The heavy sack left a deep run in the snow as Jaken pulled it along behind him. He had to travel way farther than what he liked to get food. He couldn't manage to catch anything alive. At most, he found some bushels of berries. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to procure what he felt his master would deem enough for Rin.
He also knew Lord Sesshōmaru had abandoned him long before he ever made it back to the village gates. It wasn't a surprise, so he could only be grateful for the blanket old lady Yasu gave him in exchange for the goods. Jaken also noticed that A-Un was gone, yet Rin remained. This could have only meant that Sesshōmaru must have needed him for something specific and undoubtedly has flown back up the mountain with a new plan.
Oh, how he wished he knew what that plan was! Was Sesshōmaru going to attack the swordsmith? Is that why he left Rin behind at the village, to keep her safe? Jaken was admittedly upset his master didn't find him useful in this plan and abandoned him out in the cold, but he knew if he left his post Sesshōmaru would be furious.
It was with a heavy, exhausted heart that Jaken slumped up against a tree with his blanket and stewed.
(Youtube Suggested Listening) Rain In Jiang Nan (雨碎江南) - Erhu Cover by Eliott Tordo
Surrounded by towering evergreens laden with glistening snow, a steaming mineral lake nestled amidst the icy embrace of the landscape. Its waters, a vibrant hue of cerulean blue, wafted up into a mist of tendrils that swirled and twirled like wisps of elusive spirits in the frigid air. At its edge was a narrow fall that cascaded down, past the forge, and to a green pond at the bottom. It was the Okama crater, a rich, giant hot spring at the top of the cliff. On the other side of the land bridge that spanned across the gorge was a trail carved into the cliff that snaked up to the crater, and it was here where Ishimaru liked to relax.
With bare feet dangling over the water's edge, she gently dipped her toes into the soothing warmth. She leaned on the palms of her hands, a thick braid of maroon hair cradled in the nook of her shoulder and dipping down to the grass below. The waning moon bathed her in an ethereal glow, illuminating every delicate curve of her frame.
Kenkō stood a couple of feet behind her, his icy blue gaze boring into the back of her head. The first time he played for her was here, and ever since it was her favorite spot to listen to his ballads. His grip on the ebony neck of his kokyū tightened, his gaze averting to the ground nearby.
The instrument was not widely known throughout the mainland; it originated in the Okinawa Provinces. When Kenkō traveled to the castle town of Yamagata for trade, he first learned of it from a traveling entertainer. The stringed instrument's sound was so unique and alluring, Kenkō believed if he mastered it he could attract any woman he desired and frankly, he wasn't wrong. The entertainer, an older gentleman, was more than happy to share his passion with the young warrior and eventually gave him the kokyū he used now. With a bow of horsehair and three tuned strings, Kenkō helped spread the joy of music in his village as well as seemingly captivate a certain half-demon.
"Will you sit?" It was Ishimaru. She had turned to beam up at him, thick lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks.
Kenkō shook his head and moved to sit with his legs crossed beside her. "I haven't written any new songs…"
"That's okay," she softly responded, lifting one of her feet out of the water. A glistening stream snaked down her foot to dribble back into the lake, causing a flourish of ripples. "My favorite is 'Rain', anyway. Just play that one?"
Kenkō's eyes were fixated on her hands. Her fingers were weaved through blades of grass; pristine, delicate hands. Not the hands of a blacksmith, he thought. Not the hands of someone who could pound a hammer to metal and forge such dangerous weapons. She kept them so clean and was careful not to hurt herself while working. He held up his palm to look at his own hand: rough, with calloused fingertips. Great for doing hard labor and pinching taut strings, not for caressing a woman. But her words caused heat to build in his face.
"Sure," he mumbled, reaching to remove the strap from around his chest and moving his kokyū so its body rested on his thigh. Positioning one hand at the neck and the other holding firm to the bow, he began to pull it across the strings, producing an incredibly full and unique sound.
As the soft strains of the ballad filled the air, Ishimaru closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by the music. Each note seemed to weave a tapestry of emotions, evoking memories of distant lands and forgotten dreams. The heavenly melody wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and with each delicate stroke of Kenko's bow, she felt herself drawn deeper into the spell of the music, lost in its blissful company.
Her mind wandered to memories long buried beneath snow-covered mountains. She imagined the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops on thatch roofs, each droplet a tender but fleeting touch on her skin. It was a symphony of nature, a delicate dance between sky and earth as the heavens wept tears of rejuvenation.
Around them, the moon cast its silver light upon the lake, turning its surface into an azure mirror of dreams. The gentle lapping of the water against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the melody, adding to the sense of serenity that enveloped them. As the ballad reached its crescendo, Ishimaru felt a profound sense of peace wash over her. In that moment, beneath the moonlit sky, she found solace, a fleeting respite from her day-to-day and…maybe something else. As the final notes faded into the night, she felt a longing in her heart, as if dreading the end.
Kenkō loved how she looked when she listened to his music. He could always tell she had drifted off to some faraway land, nowhere near here, and found a peace that words couldn't hope to describe. He could only dream of such a feeling, and he liked to think that he could find it somewhere, in her arms. Even as he looked at the little horns atop her head, the silent reminder of what she was, he couldn't imagine any part of her actually being a demon .
His heart pounded beneath his chest, his lips parting, "Ishi, I-"
He swallowed, something sharp, no multiple sharp things, were prodding his masculine neck. Instinctively he had lifted it up a bit, unable to move, but could make out a white sleeve next to his face. He could hear Ishimaru release a slow breath.
"You knew I was here," came the deep, unwavering voice of the great dog demon. His amber eyes were glowing under narrowed brows as they bored into the side of Ishimaru's face.
"I was trying to enjoy the moment…" she responded woefully. She padded her feat in the warm water of the lake once more, still leaning back on her hands.
"Hm." Sesshōmaru would be lying if he told her the music was not worth enjoying–the human had talent. Throughout all of his travels, he had yet to witness a musical instrument like the one Kenkō had, and it was as unique and charming as Ishimaru suggested. He gave her the grace of letting the song conclude, but now he had to present his proposal once more, this time with collateral.
"You will forge a sword for me," he started. His voice resonated with authority, each word dripping with cold intensity as he addressed Ishimaru. "Or this man, and the village, will suffer your refusal." There was a weight to his words, a commanding presence that brooked no argument.
Kenkō's teeth clenched, his throat releasing a guttural "Tch" as fury swept over him. His once icy gaze was wide with rage, but he couldn't move. "Ishi, don't do a thing this demon asks, he's-"
He stopped. When he looked at her, Ishimaru had the same soft gaze she had the first day he met her. She hadn't even looked away from the water's surface; there was no hint of fear on her face. Was she so committed to peace that she would risk the lives of the entire village? Kenkō wasn't sure how to feel about his life being gambled in such a way. Was this what it meant to be a demon, with little care for life?
His grip on the neck of his kokyū tightened, his hands trembling with suppressed rage. I left my kabanō in the forge, I wasn't prepared for an ambush at all. I can't protect myself, or her…
Sesshōmaru noted Kenkō's visceral reactions. Even as he sat there beneath the threat of the demon's claws, rage encompassed him far more than fear did. Sesshōmaru could feel the human's body emitting a potent flourish of spiritual energy, perhaps this is why the swordsmith entrusted him. His eyes fell on the woman once more, his gaze tracing the outline of her long, silken hair as it pooled in the grass behind her. "So, what will it be, artisan? The sword, or this man's life?"
She looked at him without turning her head, holding his cold eyes with her serene gaze, "It appears my initial judgment was sound." There was a brief moment of silence between them, and her head craned upwards towards the moon. "Kill him," her voice remained soft, still, even. "It makes no difference- it will gain you nothing. My refusal to make a blade for you will stand."
The swirling torment that was bubbling inside of Kenkō immediately washed away like a sudden tide. His eyes were wide and bulged with disbelief, his pupils trembling with a mixture of unrelenting emotion. Did…did she just say what I think she did? There's no way, how could she throw away our lives just like that?!
Frustration had the great demon tightening his grip. A thin stream of crimson trickled from beneath his claws, his eyes narrowed into slits. "I do not make empty threats, and your pretense does not fool me."
Her gaze shifted back to the placid water, and she slightly canted her head. "I know, and it is not. I will grieve the suffering you cause, but I will not be the one responsible for providing you with a weapon with which to strengthen your capacity for death. In the grand scheme of things, their lives-" she gestured to the man in his grip without looking, sweeping one hand in a graceful arc. "- matter little."
The human warrior was at a loss for words as it felt like his heart had hiked up into his throat. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure, he didn't want her to just do whatever this demon ordered, but he also didn't want her to be willing to put all of their lives at risk for whatever principle she was trying to hold on to here. And to think that I was just about to…
Her hand dropped. "And in either case, even if I were inclined to be swayed by threats, the point is moot. I still lack the materials to provide you with the weapon you seek."
Sesshōmaru scoffed. "A hypocritical stance for a swordsmith to have. Swords are for killing, for slaying your enemies." He said this with a hint of refrain, trying to push aside the mental battle he was still having with the tormenting sword at his side. Tenseiga was physical proof his statement held no merit, but she didn't need to know that.
"Is that what you truly believe?" She shook her head slowly, cambridge eyes closing as her lashes cast a heavy shadow on her glowing cheeks. Her hand had come to rest back on the soft grass, her posture still as relaxed and fluid as ever. "I can see in your eyes that's what you want to believe. It's the easiest to assume, after all. With all of the war and famine sweeping the nations, it's the easiest for anyone to believe. But…we both know that's not true."
Tenseiga pulsed, causing Sesshōmaru to frown, his eyes widening at her statement and the physical reaction she incited. What was she hinting at here? Did she know more about him than she was letting on? His golden eyes glittered in the moonlight as the side of his upper lip twitched, temporarily revealing a sharp fang.
Ishimaru turned her head this time, a shimmer of light washing over her lower lip as her smile alone threatened to elicit violence among the group. She was beaming at the sword strapped to his hip. "It would appear this is a lesson someone already seeks to teach you, and I will not intervene."
The speed at which Kenkō was tossed aside and the collar of Ishimaru's yukata was taken up in his place was unparalleled. It seemed to happen in a blur of motion, with Kenkō finding himself falling backward in slow motion through a flurry of long white hair. When he sat back up, he saw Ishimaru lifted to the very tips of her toes to stare the towering demon directly in his poisonous gaze. He grit his teeth, but couldn't find himself able to get up. His weapon was back in the cave, and any attempts to retrieve it could lead to a swift end. Plus, by the time he made it back whatever was going to transpire here would have already happened. All he could do was remain plotted to the ground and seethe.
Initially, the swordsmith was shocked at the ferocity of being yanked up from her cozy perch. It certainly wasn't comfortable dangling there, but she was able to mitigate a portion of malaise by putting both hands on his wrist and arm. She was staring up at him with large eyes filled with intense curiosity rather than terror.
The intensity of Sesshōmaru's gaze was a display of feral emotion not many had the pleasure of witnessing, much less surviving afterward. To say he was upset would be a grave underestimation; he was furious . This woman, this half-demon , had the nerve to not only deny him once, but twice, and then muster the gall to infantilize his maturity? He wanted to strike her, but he wanted to defeat his pathetic half-demon brother even more and to do that he needed this weapon. With Kaijinbō gone, she was his only option, and she was a pest .
A glowing, bubbly, smiling pest.
"If you are hiding something from me, it is in your best interest to spill it, now…" he growled, finding it difficult to maintain his scowl as the warmth of her personality was as bright as a solar flare.
Her grip on his wrist seemed to tighten, her body almost lifting itself by sheer motivation. "Take me with you."