"Finally," Jaken heaved, "we made it back to the village."
Despite the trip down not nearly as difficult as the trip up, the imp was still exhausted. The snow wasn't any less thick, nor was it any less cold, and Sesshōmaru out-paced him the entire way in disgruntled determination. Jaken partially walked, partially ran, but was mostly dragged all the way down by Sesshōmaru's coattail. "That human must be resilient to make such a trip on that mountain."
Sesshōmaru ignored his ward, his primary objective to test his theory. But Jaken was right; a journey up that mountain was no easy feat, even for demons. While he wasn't as affected as Jaken, he couldn't deny the small toll the travel and cold took on his body. For a human such as Kenkō to survive, there must have been other things as play, such as the barrier around his cart. He had no doubt that was placed by the swordsmith to ensure her supplies got to her safely. She couldn't have instilled power within the human, however. That seemed a bit far-fetched and out of her scope of practice.
In the tranquil embrace of winter's breath, nestled at the foot of the towering mountain, Sesshōmaru once again found himself standing just outside the gates of the village. Snow was gently falling, collecting on his shoulder and the top of his mōkōmōkō. Despite the chill in the air, there is a palpable sense of warmth and tranquility that envelops the village. The inhabitants move about their daily lives with a sense of quiet contentment, their footsteps muffled by the powdery snow beneath their feet. Smoke curls lazily from the vent holes of homes, painting wispy trails against the wintry sky. The place almost seemed…timeless.
From here, he could see Rin. She was outside, appropriately dressed, and running in circles with a couple of other children in the snow. The demon stepped closer to the gates and felt a prickling sensation suddenly wash over his skin from head to toe. It almost felt like an electrical current, a thickness in the air that pressed upon him with rippling energy. He reached out his hand, his fingers barely grazing where he suspected the barrier to be. He could see small flares of purple energy flickering at the tips of his nails, and his eyes narrowed.
A barrier around the entire village, just as I suspected…
"Lord Sesshomaru, a barrier!" Jaken exclaimed, jumping back. "Did that woman really put a barrier around the entire village, from all the way up there?"
"Jaken."
The imp's jump was immediate. "Y-Yes my lord?"
"Go fetch some food for yourself and Rin."
"Of course! Ah, but what about the barrier? I won't be able to pass through my lord," the imp said defeatedly.
"Leave a basket at the gates for the old woman who's taking care of her."
The imp nodded before fidgeting his hands slightly, his staff balancing in the crook of his arm. "Ah, if I may be so bold my lord, what will you be doing?"
"Quickly, Jaken."
"Ah! My apologies my lord, I'm going right now!" Jaken scuttled off in a flurry, not wishing to invoke the wrath of his lord.
Once the imp had disappeared, as if by sheer willpower, Sesshōmaru summoned A-Un without uttering a word. The dual-headed dragon demon padded out of his stable and elegantly jumped up and through the barrier to meet his master on the other side. Curious, how A-Un was able to pass through and no one else. The only theory that Sesshōmaru could conjure in this moment was A-Un's pure intentions towards Rin. But if it were solely based on that…
While the great demon felt he could pass through despite this, it would not be without having to use an excessive amount of energy which he felt no need to waste. Demons of lesser power would surely be unable to pass, indicating Ishimaru's need to protect these villagers whether it is for selfish purposes or she actually cares for them. The barrier inside the forge, however, was of a greater caliber than this one. It was possible her power could only stretch so far, even with the conduits of deer roaming everywhere. The reality that her power could extend to such lengths was palpable, even with the manipulation of living creatures.
It didn't matter how strong Kenkō thought he was, the calves of his legs always burned like fire when he made it to the top of the mountain trail. The sun was beginning to set; the trip always took several hours with having to make pit stops for his ox, and himself. He was grateful he didn't have to defend himself against demons the whole way up. A herd of deer would accompany them sometimes and the warrior knew they were an extension of Ishimaru, guiding and protecting him and his bullock on their journey.
They carefully traversed the ledge leading to the falls, the wheels of Kenkō's cart just barely fitting the span between it and the rock wall on their opposite side. A tumultuous river raced down below, steam from the hot water rising up to kiss his face. It was always a relief to make it to this point. The biting cold would release its hold on them and make way for the warmth from the falls. Kenkō's theory had always been that this mountain was an active volcano and the magma from its core was what heated the falls. Ishimaru's forge was in a cave on the side of the mountain, below a large lake from where the falls were produced. The unusual length of time that the water stayed warm, however, he felt was caused by the swordsmith herself and whatever she used to heat her forge from within the cave. There was a clay shaft that extended from her firepit to the ceiling of the cave where it connected, and he believed there was a hole there where the smoke and heat of the flames would rise. While the set-up she had was not an exact replica of the average forge, it was clear that the traditional style was her inspiration.
They were reaching the land bridge now, the spray from the falls showering them with a glittering gold mist. Kenkō leaned on his kabanō for support as he panted for breath. Small beads of water gathered on his frilled hair and raced down to drip off the tips of his bangs. The ox opened her large mouth to bellow at him before shaking her head, splashing her master with the mist her fur had gathered.
"Aaaah, Hiromuuuu…!" Kenkō wailed as he held out both arms, the sleeves of his dark blue hakama now dripping with water. He shook like a dog to get back at her, and she grabbed onto his waistband in retaliation.
In the midst of their playful scuffle, a giggle could be heard. Kenkō stopped tugging on Hiromu's ear to look ahead, her whole front leg positioned on the back of his neck as if trying to pin him to the ground. The color in his face was replaced with an embarrassed red as his bright blue eyes laid claim to the woman standing in front of them.
Ishimaru had just traversed her way back up the spiraling ledge on the other side of the landbridge that led down to a pool below where the falls ended. Steam from the warm water was rising around her like a delicate veil. She wore a simple yukata, the fabric clinging to her damp skin, accentuating the curves of her figure. Her long hair hung loose and damp, cascading down her back in dark, glistening waves of maroon. She didn't have bangs, so long strands fell down her face and beside her nose to eventually curve and blend in with the rest of her incredible mane. Somehow, her hair seemed even longer than normal.
The sight of her took Kenkō's breath away, his heart skipping a beat at the ethereal beauty before him. He was upright in an instant, even his ox Hiromu straightening her posture and averting her wall-eyed gaze.
"L-Lady Ishimaru," he called out softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You look..." But his words failed him. Instead, he simply stood there, drinking in the sight of her, feeling a warmth spread through him at the mere sight of her.
She was smiling, like always. "I'm glad you made it, let's get inside so you can dry off."
She stepped in front of him to turn and pass through the tunnel through the falls which opened up for her in earnest. After shaking his head to regain his senses, Kenkō quickly filed in line behind her, Hiromu and her cart following soon after. They walked together through the cave, Kenkō unable to utter a word. His eyes were fixated on Ishimaru's cascading, wet hair that swayed gently behind her as she walked.
This woman is supposed to be a demon, but I can't tear my eyes away from her. I feel like it's a spell at this point…
Kenkō raised his hand to rest his forehead in his palm, a sensation of defeat washing over him in a powerful wave. It was exhausting to have to fight these feelings of captivation on a regular basis in efforts to hold true to his character.
"Are you alright, Kenkō?" she asked, her voice like velvet.
"Ah, yeah, just tired," the warrior answered, his face having returned to its normal shade for a while now. Hiromu nudged his back with her head, nearly causing him to fall over. He shot a glare at the ox.
"I'll help you unload the cart, then you can rest to prepare for your return," Ishimaru said as they entered the mouth of the forge.
"N-No, you shouldn't have to worry about th-"
"Nonsense," she interrupted. "You've worked hard enough already. Come, Hiromu." Ishimaru stopped to turn around and take the ox's lead rope from Kenkō and guided her over towards the center of the cave where her firepit structure was. Hiromu padded along behind her without protest, knowing a big bucket of grass clippings was in her near future.
Kenkō stopped to watch as the delicate-looking swordsmith began to unload supplies from the bullock, starting with the bucket of grass for his pet. He couldn't help but to admire her. Her talent was remarkable but she did not see herself above him or anyone else, always willing to help and always…smiling…
She reached to pull out a heavy log, guiding it along the rim of the bullock before large arms reached past her to effortlessly lift it up and out. "I got it," Kenkō said quietly, directing her to some smaller things while he handled the tougher materials. Soon, her forge was replenished with tans, clay, wood, ironsand, and even some homey essentials like a basket of tea leaves and haze-wax candles. Hiromu was unhitched from the cart and let to roam around the forge freely, eventually settling on a bed of hay beside the white stag.
Kenkō handed Ishimaru a woven square basket lined with white cloth. "Here, I know you're mostly self-sufficient and all up here and don't need much, but Granny Yasu wouldn't let me leave without bringing some rations for you."
"Oh?" the woman mewed, eagerly looking inside the basket with wide, child-like eyes.
"There's rice, biscuits, fruits and veggies, and some uh, some sake…" Kenkō muttered, pushing the basket towards her to take.
"She is so kind, and her cooking is wonderful! Please, give her my appreciation when you go back," Ishimaru chimed, wrapping her arms around the basket and moving to place it in her living quarters.
"Yeah, sure."
Kenkō's weary sigh spoke volumes, his shoulders drooping. The emotions swirling within him had taken their toll and his eyes were tired. There was a stack of finished weapons and tools off to the side which all had their blades wrapped for travel. Sickles, saws, axes, picks, and various weapon types made up the pile. He moved to start packing those into the cart, but was stopped by a gentle tug on his sleeve. He looked behind him to see the red-haired woman staring up at him with her soft, seafoam-green gaze. "Why don't you take a break? You look exhausted…"
Kenkō shrugged his sleeve away from her, moving to start loading up the tools. "I'm fine, I'd rather get this done sooner rather than later anyway," he mumbled.
"Oh… Well, are there any requests for your next trip?" the smith asked, clasping her hands together in front of her as she watched him.
"Not-" Kenkō started, heaving some of the stack into the bullock and then adjusting them appropriately so they were spread out across the bed. "-right now." He let out a breath before putting his hands at his hips. "The tools you make last a long time. The majority of this haul I plan to take into the city and try to trade for some nice clothes. With this quality, I should be able to get more than enough for the villagers. Thankfully, spring will be here soon."
"Then I will work on some more items for you to take to trade," she nodded, turning away from him then to approach her table and begin sorting the tea leaves.
Kenkō looked back at her with a softened gaze. "Why are you doing this?" he wondered aloud. He couldn't figure her out to save his life.
"Hm?" Ishimaru looked over her shoulder with raised eyebrows.
"This." Kenkō gestured at the entirety of the forge with his arms. "All of this. Making all of these tools, all of these weapons, not really caring what I do with them or who they go to. This," he said, pointing at his spiked club. "What's it all for? I can't see any real gain on your end for any of it. You're not getting paid with *koban or rice, there's no trading of something of equal value. So what's it all for?"
What drove her to devote herself to such tireless work, without seeking material gain or recognition?
The bemused look on her face quickly returned to that persistent, infectiously warm smile of hers as she turned to fully face him.
"Peace."
*koban: a Japanese oval gold coin in Edo Period feudal Japan
