Author's Corner

Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I had an exam and a pile of assignments to hand in. Thank you so much for all the feedback! I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the story. I hope you like the latest chapter! Don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 12: The full picture

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Sesshoumaru took a stroll through the gardens, sticking to the shadows in an effort to evade the dawn for as long as he could. In the half-light, his pupils shone like fireflies. Treading delicately, he followed the trail along the stream and stopped on the incline of a curved bridge. A shoal of carp had congregated in the water below, swimming against the current.

The image reminded Sesshoumaru of one of his father's stories about a waterfall called the Dragon Gate. According to the tale, if a carp could swim up the Yellow River and leap over the waterfall, it would be transformed into a dragon. Were all carp born knowing they had the potential for greatness? If so, it seemed cruel when so many would never achieve it.

It was even crueller when he considered the choice every carp had to make – risk death by making the perilous journey to the Dragon Gate or live as a coward for not daring to try.

You're not a hero . . . You're just a coward.

The human's words were a spear through his heart.

He should never have brought her here. Was it too late to return her to the miko? Or better yet, was there a way to send her back to where she came from? Despite constantly talking about how much she missed it, her home was the one thing she had little to say about. Whenever Rin asked her about it, she always provided frustratingly vague answers. She'd mentioned to Totosai that she came from a place called 'Tokyo' – which Sesshoumaru had never heard of – and she'd told Cyril that her parents had disappeared when she was a child, but that was all he knew. He recalled Rin saying that she and the miko were related somehow, which meant they likely originated from the same place. If only he didn't tune out every time the miko spoke. Had he paid attention to her for once instead of focusing on Inuyasha, the answer might have been obvious.

The dawn was now impossible to avoid. Sunshine sifted through the branches above Sesshoumaru and blanketed him in yellow light. As he meandered across the bridge, he realised that he could see the engawa that was attached to his mother's old quarters.

His jaw tensed as a figure appeared on the threshold of the engawa.

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Octavia walked out onto the engawa to stretch. After that was done, she slouched against the bannister and rested her head in her hands. A yawn crawled out of her mouth. Her wound had kept her awake for most of the night. She'd managed to clean and dress it using what she had in her room, but without anything to numb the pain, it had been a long and unpleasant night.

She was still reeling from her fight with Sesshoumaru.

You will never belong here.

Coincidentally, the object of her thoughts appeared in her peripheral vision. Sesshoumaru was standing in the middle of a bridge that arched across the stream. He was too far away for her to be certain, but she had a feeling that he was staring at her. The heat of his gaze was undeniable.

She straightened her posture and frowned at him. Jaken had mentioned that Daiyoukai had heightened senses, so she hoped he could see her face across the distance. She'd hardly been a saint herself, but he'd started it by confining her to her room like a captive princess.

She almost snorted at the comparison. A princess? You? Don't be ridiculous.

Eventually, Sesshoumaru tired of looking at her and wandered off.

Alight with fresh fury, Octavia flounced back inside and scrambled around in the drawers for rolls of paper. Whenever she felt overwhelmed by strong emotions, her solution had always been to draw. It was a tactic she'd learned in therapy. Art was freeing. She didn't have to lie when she was creating. She could be herself. And most importantly, it reminded her that she was in control.

She spread the paper out across the floor and flattened it with her elbows. Since all she had access to was ink, painting in colour simply wasn't an option. Accepting that, she picked up a calligraphy brush and got to work.

A monstrous face began to take shape on the paper. Her brushstrokes were messy and chaotic, but they matched the atmosphere she was trying to create. She pressed down hard, splitting the hairs at the end of the brush, and continued filling in the assortment of gaps in the painting. A hideous snout, goblin ears, teeth filed to points. The monster stared at her with a hungry expression, jaws dripping with black. It was grotesque, but it was also beautiful.

"Fuck," she cursed abruptly.

She'd gotten the eyes wrong.

She moved to a different section of the paper and started over. The brush was now thoroughly wrecked. Tossing it, she reached for a new one and repeated the process of capturing his likeness, only to mess up the eyes again. Frustrated, she scribbled them out and tried again.

What was she missing? The shape was fine, and the pupils were long and thin, yet they looked flat, soulless, unconvincing, dead. She'd never cared this much about eyes before. Sighing, she pushed the papers away and chucked the brush into the ink tray, spraying droplets everywhere. She should've just painted him naked. In what world were genitals easier to draw than eyes?

At least she felt calmer now.

However, the irritation quickly resurfaced once she remembered she was forbidden to go outside. She'd scoured the room for activities to pass the time with, but there weren't any, meaning the only thing she could do was sleep. Feeling a lot like a caged tiger, Octavia stomped towards the bed and sat on the edge. Her recently cleaned jacket was draped over the foot of the bed drying, whilst the contents of her pockets were on the bedside table. The items that had travelled back in time with her had been a packet of strawberry-flavoured bubble gum, a crumpled one thousand yen note, and a pair of vintage sunglasses. She popped a piece of bubble gum into her mouth and put on her sunglasses. Maybe she could pretend she was on holiday. The engawa was basically a balcony, and she had enough cushions to make herself comfortable out there. Sunbathing did sound better than sleeping. Gathering some cushions, she headed towards the open shoji.

An unexpected surge of magic made her freeze.

She pushed the sunglasses on top of her head and tiptoed back towards the bed. Dumping the cushions, she walked over to the table and pulled the bottom drawer open. The purple crystal in the Reikon Blade was glowing faintly in the dim light of the drawer. Octavia blew a bright pink bubble before reaching down to pick it up by the handle.

It cannot inflict physical damage. It is entirely useless in that regard. No matter how much it is sharpened, it will never pierce flesh.

Trusting Nidawi's words, Octavia pushed the dagger's tip into the centre of her palm. Instead of drawing blood, the point disappeared into her skin. When she removed it, her skin was untouched.

"Freaky," she muttered, chewing harder.

There were tiny symbols carved into the edge of the handle. She recognised the character for 'soul', but even with her newfound understanding of the Japanese language, she couldn't read the rest of the kanji, if it even was kanji in the first place.

Preventing reincarnation is not all it is capable of. It also has the ability to connect your mind to another's. Their thoughts, memories, and even dreams can become yours.

"How did she do it?" Octavia whispered.

As if in answer, the dagger emitted a series of muffled sounds. She held it next to her ear and listened carefully. The sounds were scattered and indistinct, but they sounded like whispers. It was as if a crowd of people were talking over one another, only the volume had been turned down to low, so no one could hear what anyone else was saying.

A knock on the door yanked her back into reality. She dropped the dagger in fright and the whispers ceased as it hit the ground with a loud slam. Her heart thundered in her chest as she scooped it up and shoved it back in the drawer. Whose thoughts had she been eavesdropping on? Nervous to find out, Octavia crept towards the door and held her breath.

"Who is it?" she asked, spitting out the bubble gum and throwing it in the bin.

"It's Rin."

She laid a hand over her thrashing heart and exhaled deeply.

"Are you okay, Octavia-san? You sound weird."

"I'm fine," she answered. "The door's open, so come in."

The door handle turned, and Rin strolled into the room in all her finery. She opened her mouth to speak, but the rolls of paper on the floor behind Octavia distracted her from whatever she was going to say originally. "Ah!" she cried, delighted, and rushed past Octavia to study them.

Octavia's stomach dropped. She'd been so focused on hiding the dagger that she'd forgotten something infinitely more incriminating. "This isn't what it looks like—"

"These are amazing," said Rin. She'd plonked herself on the floor and was thumbing through the papers excitedly. "I didn't know you were an artist."

"I'm not," she mumbled. "Not really. I'm still just a student."

"Well, you must be some kind of prodigy, then. I've never seen this style before. Is it your own?"

"I guess so. Honestly, I just paint what I see."

Rin's eyes sparkled. "Wow. I wish I could do that." She examined the first painting – which was the most gruesome of the bunch – and smiled. "Sesshoumaru-sama will be so flattered."

Octavia's anger reignited. "I'm not letting him see them," she said, scowling.

"Why not?"

"His ego is big enough already."

Rin giggled. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Can you blame me?"

"Why don't you give him a chance? He might surprise you."

"I doubt it."

Rin touched her hand. The girl's tender smile caught her off guard. "I wouldn't think so highly of him if he hadn't earned my respect. There's more to him than you think. You've only seen one side of him. If you saw the full picture, I think you'd like him very much."

"You're wrong, Rin," she rebuked. "I don't need to see the full picture. He's a jerk. That's all that matters."

"Aren't we all jerks?"

"I'm not."

Rin's smile turned mischievous.

Octavia crossed her arms. "Now, that's just rude."

"Don't be like that, Octavia-san. It's why I like you. You're not afraid to tell people how you feel. If you disagree with someone, you say so. I admire that."

"Save your flattery for someone who's not a jerk."

Rin laughed. Octavia fought back a smile. It was nice to have company. She'd been alone since the kidnapping last night, and the smashed tub of rouge had made her uneasy. Something had definitely knocked it over. But what? No one could enter the barrier without her permission . . . Except for Sesshoumaru. Had it been his shadow she'd seen? No, that didn't make sense . . .

"Can you paint me next?" asked Rin.

Octavia shrugged. "Sure."

"Yay! When it's done, can I show it to Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"If you really want to. I doubt he'd be impressed by it, though."

"I don't know . . . Jaken-sama once said he loves art."

Octavia's eyes widened. "Did he?"

"Uh-huh. Apparently, there's an entire wing of the castle that's full of various pieces he's collected over the centuries. I'd love to see it."

"Me, too. Do you think it's true?"

"Judging by all the art on the walls, I don't think it's impossible."

Octavia glanced at the painting on the wall behind her bed and nodded in agreement. "We should go looking for it," she said. "If I ever get out of here, it can be the first thing we do."

Rin beamed brightly. "Yes! We could ask Jaken-sama to show us where it is."

"What if he says no?"

"Oh, he won't." She winked. "I'm very persuasive."

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