Chapter Six: Trading Fool's Gold for Snake Oil

A/N: This chapter's songs are "Bloodstream" by Ed Sheeran and "Riverside" by Agnes Obel. (It's pretty much gonna be two songs per chapter now, one for the feel for the beginning of the chapter and one for the end of it. I couldn't ever decide and then realized that I didn't need to.) Enjoy!

Lixue leaned against the railing, watching with impatience as the wind dragged the ship closer to the peaks of upward-breaking earth; the water slapping against the wood and the sea birds screeching above her barely filling the empty space in the air about her. She licked the cracked surface of her lips, knowing that it wouldn't help but seeking the momentary relief. Adisa was napping belowdeck, as at home on the cramped and salty ship as he would have been on land.

One of the sailors was watching her, curiosity and suspicion clouding his dull features. The tigress turned her eye to him and sharpened her silver gaze. What.

He studied the wood at his waist.

It hadn't taken but a few days for them to realize that they were in the company of demons; surprisingly, it had been Adisa who gave them away, yawning too widely and showing his fangs to anybody who cared to look. They'd already been suspicious of the pair, their attire and their attitudes not suited for human travelers.

Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me, she contemplated as she ran her claw along the grooves of the wood, its color muted by sun and water and time. He says he knows me, and I thought I knew him, but this isn't my Adisa. It's some imperfect facsimile, dead weight and clumsy tactics where there should be utility and dependability. He doesn't know how to do anything. I don't think he's ever even drawn blood, at least not to kill. What use is he to me beyond a burden?

It wasn't entirely fair, she knew. Her Adisa was older, had more time to learn, but he hadn't come to her so fresh-faced and arrogant, assumptions and flirtations. He'd been careful and cunning, bold and temperate, appealing to her need for him that she hadn't known she had. She'd drive him away, this pest who petitioned her for the right to serve her, one in a sea of lesser males whose blood she'd spilled, their eager overtures a bid for a part of her growing power. The others would limp away, forgotten, but no matter how she'd maul him, he'd escape and return a few days later with another scar and the same request. He'd left 'gifts' around her, notes on how exactly he'd gotten there without her knowledge, every one signed with a single foreign flower, its petals curling and alluring. He'd laughed, calling it a rose. It didn't look like the roses she knew, the petals too few, the scent too strong, but some part of her thought that it fit him. It was velvety, its head hanging with petals the color of blood. He'd smiled for her then, the day she allowed him to stay, and that smile never changed.

This Adisa had ridden on the coattails of her memory of him, driven to be with her without understanding her. Every day she was with him, his smile faded, and she felt the distance between them grow. Now he slept away the days, waiting for land, and she watched the water in thought.

It was one day in particular that she remembered, just a few days before they had approached the town from which their ship would depart. A small village, with the inhabitants under the selfish and unreasonable thumb of a rather ugly demon, the souls within trudging with dead looks in their eyes and silence blanketing over every face. No children lived here, only the lined and colorless. They only glanced at her, at Adisa, not even summoning enough emotion to frown before turning back to their limply attended tasks. She'd heard of their position, and had decided to pass through to see for herself. She surveyed, Adisa watching them with pitying curiosity, before turning her back to them to go on her way. He'd hesitated before following her, "Shouldn't we help them?" asked incredulously to his mistress. She stopped and looked at him, irritation tinting her response, the people walking about them like so much stupid water about a stone, no thought, no care. "No, Jin." She'd used his family name to remind him of his place – subordinate. But he did not understand, and he'd pressed. "They need our help! We can't just leave them to their fate!" He had reached for her arm with his hand, and she gripped his wrist, not hard enough to hurt but enough to give her claws purchase, speaking clearly and loudly. No eyes looked their way. "I cannot help them. Nobody can. Humans are weak, generations passing in a single lifetime, with no gifts of strength or sight or power, just the stupidity to keep trying even if it's hopeless. These are not humans. They're not even alive." She gestured around them. "Say we do help them. We destroy the demon and hand them back their lives. What happens then, when they did not care enough to have it in the first place? It gets taken away, perhaps by someone who doesn't even allow them the things they have now, and all I've done is waste my time." She dropped his wrist, and he rubbed it, protests in his eyes but his tongue still. She sighed and lowered her voice apologetically. "If they'd wanted it badly enough, even if they'd tried to ask for help, I would have. But I cannot help them if they won't even try."

She rubbed her nose, the salt making her skin dry. It had been one of the biggest moments that she'd been experiencing that this was not that – nothing she'd known was guaranteed to be true. Even now, aboard this human vessel, she found herself thinking about… a lot.

The human element aboard the ship feared them – for good reason, she reminded the hyena – but wisely, they chose to keep their distance rather than provoke the beasts. It worked for her. It dampened his spirits, and she couldn't help but think that it made him sad, but she couldn't fathom why. They were humans, they'd die soon anyway, and they'd forget them in a few short years. Maybe she'd understand if they were friends, or perhaps familiar at all, but they were of no import – simply aboard the same vessel they were, and their approval was not necessary, their companionship boring.

She sighed and went to find him, shaking free her thoughts. Time enough for that later.

He breathed deeply when she entered the room, his sleeping face etched with worried lines, his lips moving. She stilled, perking her ears.

"It's alright, Imani…" he whispered to his dreams.

His sister, she recalled, an unexpected pang in her heart. Did he miss her? Did her Adisa miss his family too? I've always had him by my side. He never really talked about them, and I… I guess I thought they weren't close.

She shut the door again, leaving him to his dreams of family, her thoughts drawn down to her, a cloak of rainclouds about her shoulders. Did I ever know him…?

The invisible hand gripping her heart only squeezed harder, the pain sharpening because she knew that the answer had always been no.

oOxXxOo

Adisa woke as the ship's hull shuddered, bleary thoughts forming in him that something was wrong. He shook the idea away and rolled over in his bunk, closing his eyes to catch just a little more sleep. Whatever was going on would either wake him up or didn't matter.

It was only when he was awoken by the clatter of human feet that he thought to look for the tigress, a worry beyond words chilling his gut and making his hands shake. He scrambled to the deck, searching with every sense in his possession and calling for her, but by then, she had vanished into the wilderness – no more than an idea and a fearful memory and the fading, burning tones of poisonous oleander.

oOxXxOo

Lixue ground the inkstone some more, her previous attempts at a letter curling to ash in the fire near the table. She gestured for more paper, impatiently handing over a coin in return. It wasn't like sending a letter to her father; she had to be polite. Verbose. Haughty enough to be believable, but not so much as to be rude. Flattering, but with a gentle touch – otherwise it may be seen as sarcastic or obsequious. She stilled her brush, contemplating what she could say. It's been too long since I've done this sort of shit. Normally, she'd have Adisa do it, but…

She sighed, deeply, trying to return her mind to the task at hand. She'd left him behind days ago. No point in thinking about the man that he should have been, who he was claiming to be.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt, or that she didn't have some measure of guilt at leaving him behind in a foreign country he could barely understand. But she'd left him some money, left him aboard a ship that would be returning to the mainland. He'd be fine.

She ignored the twisting of her stomach and began writing in long, precise strokes. A letter for a human lordling, some relation of the Shogunate, having trouble with his vassals. An offer of assistance that she would deliver, pretending to simply be a courier with little knowledge of its contents. It was an easy task, one she had every confidence her father could handle. She'd sent the letter for him a few days ago, summoning him to meet her in Japan, and instructions on what to bring, what to say. This was delicate; she had to build his confidence at the same time as keeping the lordling's confidence in her father as high as possible. She knew the answer to this question, having seen something extraordinarily similar in her previous lifetime, but wasn't going to give the answer away. It was her trump card, only to be used if her father couldn't find it himself.

The letter's arrival to him wouldn't take as long as it could have; she offered a lock of her hair to a spirit – or demon – that lived among the clouds in exchange for delivering her summons. She had the space of time between now and when he arrived to find him a service to perform.

Wiping the brush clean, she stood. Short of forging the papers and claiming he's a government official, this was the best she could do. If he did well, word of mouth would spread and it would matter less that he was a stranger and a foreigner both. If he didn't, well, he'd have more chances but they'd diminish drastically. Tucking the letter safely into the folds of her new clothes – simple garb, passable for a page or some such station – she passed through the open door of the inn and stepped into the warm spring air.

The lord she'd picked out was a human, his position given to him too early by the death of his father, who hadn't bothered to teach his son what he'd need to know to rule or how to handle the conflicts he'd left at his son's feet. Thought he'd live forever, she scoffed to herself. Imagine his shock when he died.

It took most of the day, but she blended, walking with the trickle of humanity on the road toward the meager riches of the lord's home, birds fluttering away as the feet came too close and the unappeasable wail of a baby somewhere behind her. The creaking of a wooden cart holding too much weight, the irritated snort of an ox clearing its nose of flies. The ever-present cloud of dust hugging the ground, curling around the legs of travelers. The sun's warmth on her head and her back, tempting her to lie down amongst the trees and take a nap under the cloudless sky.

This is how it ends, echoes die soft and away, indistinct and gray.

oOxXxOo

She hadn't expected it to be an all-day affair, but neither had she expected to have her message taken from her and then be shooed away without even speaking her piece. She couldn't insist, either, or risk giving it away that she wasn't someone in the employ of someone else much more influential. She had to bow and obey – waiting listlessly in the heat and the stillness outside of the walls wasn't her first choice to spend her free time today, but would she rather do this or play the weak-willed toady for some puffed-up child that had inherited the means but not the skill? It was a difficult question.

Lixue leaned against the lone tree in the courtyard, the flies and the dust from the training yard threatening to force themselves up her nose. She snorted and shook her head like a horse, hoping it would be enough to convince them that she wasn't worth it. They didn't fall for it. She sneezed and tried to shut out the strained grunting and panting from the sparring trainees downwind. Thank everything that she didn't have to smell them, too.

The tigress was not given to lengthy introspection, but when she was forced to be still, it was unavoidable. She couldn't run right now, couldn't concentrate on a fight, or an enemy, the waiting turning her energy inward, ruminations and fixations turning her thoughts this way and that, inspections and a disappointed clucking of the tongue as she didn't quite measure up. It was all well and good that she was helping her father build, but to what end? To be potentially married off to someone better than she would have, Kuno's engagement the poor aftertaste of a poor estate? She was certainly happy knowing that he wouldn't be a part of her discussions any more, not after she uplifted her father beyond the point of his debts. The process for his uplifting was going to be delicate. It was not a comforting thought that if it wasn't earned for him in just the right way, he may change, easy power twisting his priorities and his desires. She wanted to believe he was better than that, but she didn't. What would her role be? Did she want to be a part of it, past the point where she was too integral to be taken away? Was her father's success worth bearing his weight on her back for the rest of his life? Did she want to focus on him, or on herself, or on simple freedom, or the turmoil eating the land alive? She knew it would get better eventually, but without her father, it would be slower to heal. Was it selfish of her to build him up, or selfish of her not to?

She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. She was asking the wrong person, if there was a right one at all. Beyond these questions were the thoughts of Adisa, who wasn't himself, and the deeper waters where her forgotten memories swirled, ink clouds down where the light couldn't reach; their menace coming not from the idea that they could have answers, but that they might lead to somewhere darker, pulling her under slowly enough that she wouldn't notice the surface fading away until it was too late.

There she went again. She pushed herself away from the tree, shaking her hands idly near her waist and walking in a circle under the branches' shade. And again. Once more.

She clenched her teeth together and made herself resume her leisure against the tree. Patience, patience.

oOxXxOo

"Was it that hard to just say yes then instead of making me wait all damn day?" Lixue muttered when she had finally passed out of earshot. Theirs, not hers. They were talking about stew, of all the riveting topics to choose from.

The sun had set in earnest by the time she had received the curt response from the little lordling, a condescending and bored affirmative not enough to convince her that the offer of assistance hadn't come as a relief to the boy, who was surely feeling buried. Having her wait all day was not convincing, either; all he'd managed to do was irritate her, and even an ignorant insult was insult all the same to the woman who was saving his skin. She knew he wasn't as important as he was making himself out to be, but that was bluffing, and it was part of the game that had to be played if he were to keep his head on his shoulders for at least a little while longer.

Now begged the question of what she was going to do with the rest of her time. Not just for tonight, but for until her father managed to make it to Japan. She should stay in the area, learning as much as she could of the situation and the people, but a sliver of her tugged on her, drawing her silver eyes to the forest. Freedom, it seemed to tempt her, a memory of trees and rivers and stone gnarling and unfolding up the mountains pulling her away. Grasp it before it leaves. Nobody will care. This time is yours to do with as you please, before it's taken away.

She couldn't blink, her thoughts going blank as she obeyed the call of her blood, the shadows of the trees stretching forward across the grass like giant fingers, beckoning, and as she slipped into their embrace she also slipped free of the humanity clutching at her bones. She wasn't a princess, or a merchant's daughter, or an empress, or a warrior, but simply a creature who needed to run between the trees and feel nothing but wind and leaves under her paws until her stripes broke the daylight on her back.

The tiger's motions were effortless and almost hypnotic, a shadow in a night full of them. She watched the moon through the leaves, its light pulling her forward as its crescent face rose behind her, above her. It beckoned, whispered, run, run! Push it down, away, run and satisfy me. Follow me across the sky and I'll let you swallow the world. Just run. Run.

She obeyed it as she obeyed her blood, something in its shape tugging at her, tearing bits free. What was it? Please, tell me, she pleaded, her breaths deep and rhythmic, her heart here in her body but flying somewhere before her, too fast to catch. It began to sink in the west, promise unfulfilled, her strength beginning to wane. She slowed to a stop as the first hints of the sun painted the sky in gentle pinks and oranges. It wanted to reassure her, but she never wanted to see the sun. She wanted the moon, to follow it, the nighttime of mysteries and seduction – the sun, it always took her away, hiding the stars and stealing her dreams. She should love the sunlight, its fire reflecting her own, its purity of purpose and unchanging nature reassuring and familiar. But it wasn't. She was a creature of fire, but she wanted the moon.

The moon was no longer there, the empty place where her eyes dwelled. She was somewhere west, the water's surface still shadowed by the rise of trees she stood in. It wasn't truly the west, distant shores picking up the light shared so freely by the burning star behind her, the birds beginning to wake and sing. Her flames shuddered noiselessly in the sea breeze, a final caress of the moon. She closed her eyes and breathed its scent. The moon and the wind and the sea; someone told her once that it was all connected, a push and pull of the moon and the earth. It was a beautiful thought, one that stilled her as little else could at that moment.

The breaking of wood, water splashing, growls and angry muttering.

She opened her eyes, looking across the valley below her; a great many demons were emerging from the forest bordering the south, fording the river that fed into the sea, looking very much like an army. She hadn't heard of any demon armies on her way here; this intrigued and troubled her. It could spell difficulties for her father to broker peace if there was a band of murderous demons scouring the land for an easy meal, let alone if they were led by a demon that thirsted for more than satisfying his basic needs. She needed to investigate, or at the very least, watch. It was an entire army, after all, and she was hungry after running all night. She shifted in place, seating herself on the grass and pricking her ears forward. Maybe they were one of two armies, and they'd grind themselves to dust against each other. Anything left remaining would likely be exhausted and alone, easy prey for the tiger in the forest.

The army boiled violently forward, a lack of common form making uniformity impossible, but led in what appeared to be two great sweeps, arms reaching forward to drag itself across the grass. At the fore of one, it appeared to be a brown dog or a wolf of a decent size, walking on its hind legs and surrounded by other wolves, most of where its chest would be instead containing an enormous mouth. At the fore of the other, a man in white, something over his shoulder. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to, everything below her neck suddenly rooted, the air drawn from her lungs and her fire blowing out in a sigh of sparks. She couldn't breathe back in, couldn't think, her entire world focusing on the figure in the distance. The wind wailed between the trees, speaking the name dying on her lips, Sesshomaru.

Her vision blurred and she found herself blinking again, trance broken for the moment, feeling something clinging to the fur below her eyes. She wiped it away with her paw and licked it, the taste of the sea as she found herself drawn to look at him again, never bothering to question if tigers could cry.

He was too far to make out anything specific, but there was no question in her mind if it was he. Her memories didn't rush at her like a wall of cold water as they had with Adisa, but rather felt more like sinking into a bed of warm silk – they welled up slowly, subtly, softly, as though they'd always been there and she'd simply not bothered to look. She'd been angry to forget her hyena, but nothing more than the feeling of respite and long breaths now, here, for him.

Lixue swung her head to inspect the area before the army he was inexplicably leading. They were soon to be in another area of forest; she could cut them off there while their progress was slowed, figure out what was going on, and perhaps find a word.

She swallowed hard against the lump of joy that was rising in her throat. She knew him, but at either an age where they were too young to care much or as old friends long separated. She never saw him at this age, and he had never seen her at all, a fact almost certainly true if 'she' had never ventured beyond China. Her eagerness to be reunited must be tamped down, buried under caution and disinterest and confidence.

That's what she told herself, but she found her paws making their way toward him at a rapid trot. She could not bound, could not rush them, but she pressed, only pausing to quickly devour a small sika deer that had the misfortune to nap in her path. Its fellows fled as it cried in surprise, but she was not in a playful mood today and its end came before it could next draw breath, disappearing down her throat in a jumble of limp legs and blood-matted fur. Onward.

She slowed to a leisurely walk as she approached the flank of the demonic horde, fire illuminating the trees and leaves in an eerie blue, throwing shadows outward. She held her head proudly, her size and purposeful stride giving her all the berth she needed. They growled but gave way, watching her. Those that could speak whispered to each other, those that could not baring their teeth and shrinking away from her light. She didn't pause for them. That's not why she was there. The disturbance was the point; it would attract his attention. She cast her gaze over them, her dominance not needing assertion. Have you ever seen a gray tiger, they asked each other. Is she from the mainland? Why is she here?

When she found him, he had stopped, waiting for her to approach him. It was both an acknowledgement of her and a demand for respect. She was downwind, which wouldn't keep her scent away from him for long. She kept her eyes on him as she paced forward, careful to keep herself as neutral as possible. He missed little.

She stopped a fair distance away, watching his posture. It didn't matter if she got closer or not; at this distance, he could close the space between them in a breath. She couldn't shift to a more comfortable form for speaking right now; she was still dressed as a page, and had no weapon save her claws and her fire if she did. His attire was similar but not the same as she was used to; a large flower instead of many smaller ones, his obi reversed in color, his mokomoko not nearly as voluminous and long as she'd like it to be. He had likely caught her scent before she could see him, but his face gave nothing away, his eyes glittering like chips of ice as he waited for her to speak.

"Lord Sesshomaru." She greeted him, not able to keep a tone of familiarity from her voice. She didn't introduce herself – had he dreamt of her too?

"You will explain yourself." His words as cold as his eyes, sharp at the edges. She felt that tiny pearl of hope she'd held – maybe he would know her, maybe he'd remember her, maybe, maybe – disintegrate into sand. "Tell me your name, and why you address me so informally."

"I am Xing Lixue, from the mainland. I am here for my father's work." She avoided his second question, hoping offering different information might distract him. "I am nobody of consequence."

He studied her, thinking over her words. "I will give you only one chance more to tell me why you address me so."

Shit. She almost broke eye contact – but she instead gripped her teeth. He wouldn't want excuses, or what felt like excuses. She bowed, as well as a tiger could. "Allow me to offer my apologies. It would be difficult to explain, and it was unworthy."

"You will explain," he ordered, walking toward her. Wary of his intentions, she regained her feet, as he continued. "Not only this, but why you have approached me so freely, and also why your scent falsely marks you as my mate."

He would smell a lie, and he was dangerously close to outright attacking her. Was he young enough that she could match him, despite the fact that she'd never dealt with a genuine attempt for him to take her life? A stranger, a tiger, someone he'd never met and a match he'd never ask for – the idea was preposterous, and she knew it.

"I wish I knew a way to explain it," she dropped any attempt at formality, knowing that the more genuine she was, the more likely he'd be to listen. Not that it wouldn't anger him. "I'm not trying to trick you. I don't know if I'm back in time, or dreamed about everything before, and I know you don't know me but I know you, and I know better than to lie to you. I just needed to see you," she finished lamely, not sure if she should continue. This was awful already, and so many eyes, all on them – she couldn't say everything and he wasn't likely to be anything less than the ruler they were intent on following, why, oh why did she do this here?

She twisted her body away as she felt the snap of energy that immediately precluded his change, her familiarity giving her the chance to dodge the snap of his jaws. She ducked away and flared, standing her ground before the canine. He wheeled around and she found herself momentarily surprised – he had all four legs, and he was only about as big as she was. Her surprise must have seemed to be confusion, and he pressed his attack, venom souring the air as it pooled in his throat. She pinned her ears but did not respond, turning her neck away from his attack and having it meet the hard bone of her shoulder instead, her fire searing away the venom before it could do any harm but his fangs scoring deep, shredding the muscle before he leapt away to try for her throat again. She knew this dance and she feinted, turning away again at the last second, slamming her weight into his leg and deflecting his fangs from her again. He rolled only once, regaining his feet and snapping his jaws at where she was, but she didn't follow through with the attack, taking the moment to allow her fire to spread all over her body. If he bit again, he'd be burned, and if he breathed the superheated air, he'd lose his sense of smell. She watched him watch her, ignoring the bitter pain in her shoulder and the river of blood coursing down her arm. What was she supposed to do?

"I don't…" she trailed away. She didn't what? Want to fight him? Want to leave? Know why this was happening? None of it would matter if she said it, and he wouldn't care.

She didn't have a choice.

She drank in the sight of him for a moment more, even snarling and angry, before turning and walking away. He let her leave. His point had been made. He didn't even watch her go, ignoring her to be the lord he was born to be.

She let her stupid, proud stride take her the direction of away, with stupid, proud blood painting her footsteps the color of regret.