InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodlust: Purity ❯ Light Like A Spear ( Chapter 20 )

Chapter 20

Light Like A Spear

 

“Is it time?”

Eldest spoke aloud to herself, in the quiet dark near the black fountain of visions. She took a deep breath, and it stirred the bitterness inside. The dark water took on color and reflected forms that did not exist near it, swoops of shape and motion moving quickly across the surface of the water. Everything was coming together in one place, moving like water that flowed downhill. It was time for her to leave this place that had sheltered her for so long, and re-enter the current.

“And will it sweep me away?”

She stood slowly, with a last, lingering look into the dark pool, and then moved toward the door.

“It is time. Who am I waiting for, I wonder?”

In another moment, the house was empty, and silent, and she looked back from the trees and pressed her hands together tightly. What was she thinking she could accomplish, after so long?

~=~

“Ah, I see you have finally returned!”

Sesshomaru raised a single eyebrow as he stepped over Totosai's threshold and dropped his burden on the floor.

“Finally, you say? I recall that your bow which was so easily destroyed took years of searching to create.”

Totosai cleared his throat, bent down amongst the bloody pile Sesshomaru had dropped.

“Yes, well, it seems as if you have done quite well, quite well!”

Kagome stood, and peered over Totosai's shoulder.

“That…will become a bow?”

“Not yet, not yet it won't. There is one more thing I need from you, Sesshomaru-sama. You haven't forgotten, I hope?”

In his left hand, the pliers glittered, and Kagome covered her eyes with one hand. She would not be able to watch this without laughing, and if she laughed - she did not think Sesshomaru would ever forgive her. There was a clink of metal, and a low growl. Then a `pop', and another growl, and she thought she could open her eyes.

Sesshomaru sat quite still on the floor, one fang lopsidedly over his lip and the other held tightly in the end of Totosai's pliers. The smith looked like someone who has conquered, and won a great victory. Sesshomaru's face was expressionless, except for that peeking fang.

“Then that is all, Totosai? We are free of this place now?”

Totosai did not at first answer him. He was peering studiously through the remains that were bleeding onto his floor.

“Dragon's claws, dragon's fangs…where did you find these, Sesshomaru? They are powerful, but they are not fresh.”

“Do not ask questions.”

Sesshomaru had come to conclusions of his own while he spent a day and a night searching for the things Totosai required. He had killed three demons that would not obey his request; the arm of the Bear-lord of Takudo had come from one of these. Even now, there were still some who fought against his will, however futilely. It was good.

“These hairs, Sesshomaru-sama. From which kitsune did you obtain them? They are of a fine quality.”

The most insignificant of smiles moved like a wisp of smoke across his face.

“Did I not tell you, Totosai, ask no questions?”

Kagome took a few steps closer to him, touched his arm gently.

“You did not…kill a kitsune, did you? It's just that…Shippou is…”

He bent close to her ear.

“That is Shippou's hair, Kagome. What kitsune would be better to protect you?”

There was a certain note of pride in his voice that pleased her. He had taken great care with Shippou's training, as much as with Kouga's, and someday Shippou would realize that he was strong.

 

But he is still young, even if he is the eldest…

 

Oh, how it had shocked her to realize that Shippou was eight years old in his tiny fluffy tail; and how quickly he had begun to grow when he turned ten! And now…well. If it wasn't for the hair, no one would know he was not Sesshomaru's son. He was as tall as she was now - no, taller - and that fluff-puff of a tail had become an arrogant brush.

“Well, Sesshomaru-sama, that is indeed all I needed from you - but there is something also that your mate must give me, and you know what it is.”

His eyes sharpened; he had forgotten this part, and he saw that Totosai knew it, and was not pleased.

“Come now, young master, don't let all this effort be for nothing, hmm?”

 

Young master.

 

He had not been called that since the days before his father's death. What ghosts did this smith seek to resurrect? But it was true. It would be a great deal of wasted effort, and this weapon…she must have this weapon.

“Kagome…I am sorry. I did not tell you, because I forgot.”

A shining blade was suddenly glittering in Totosai's hands, the edge sleek and silky, the handle worn, the pommel darkened with age.

“Your blood, Kagome-sama. I am sorry, but it is the surest way to bind the blade together.”

She knelt beside him.

“I am not afraid. I have been more deeply wounded than you could do with your little knife, Totosai.”

Her smile was for Sesshomaru, but he could taste the flutter of her pulse in the air, quickening the flood.

“Your arm, lady.”

The blade slid into her flesh easily; it was not until a moment after she heard the plunk of droplets that she felt pain. Already, the edges of the wound were sealing together from the ends up, until the flow dried to a trickle, and then nothing.

“One more should do it.”

Again, that easy slice, and then the fresh, wet pain as the air touched the pink flesh, the slow grasping of skin for skin. Totosai held up a glass bottle, full of thick crimson, and suddenly she felt lightheaded.

“Here, lady, sip this…”

It took a moment for Totosai to find a glass and spill the thick wine into it.

“Bloodwine. It will help to replenish what you have lost.”

She sipped the rich wine, but her teeth were aching for meat. Sesshomaru stood beside her, holding her shoulders, waiting for her steadiness, but his eyes shifted quickly and she knew he was anxious to be away from here. Already they had wasted days.

“There is something in the wind, mate, a scent that I cannot match. It comes from far away, and touches me like the guilty confession of a child.”

He shook his head, and looked to Totosai, who was already beginning to clean the fangs and claws that he had been brought.

 

Time to go.

 

“Ehh, now, Sesshomaru-sama! Why did you have to bring the whole arm, eh?”

There was no answer, and when he turned around he saw that no one remained to give one. A single arrow lay across his chair, a silent farewell from the miko. The arrowhead shone dangerously, but he stroked the feather with a fond smile on his face. He remembered the girl; scary, sometimes, but quite devoted; an admirable mate for any Inu, especially now that she was youkai herself. He would make her a fine weapon…a fine weapon.

 

“Where are we going, Sesshomaru?”

He was not moving too swiftly, aware that her blood was thin, but there was an intense purpose in his face.

“We are too far south. Have you forgotten that there was a message for us to bring?”

Her eyes widened as a burned-out, blood scented darkness replaced the landscape flashing alongside them.

“Akira….I had forgotten. What is there to say to him?”

Sesshomaru's run faded to a walk, and then nothing. His eyes interlaced with the far horizon, and pulled, as if he could draw it nearer him by force of will.

“The truth, Kagome. What else would I say?”

A cold hand squeezed her lungs; a hot hand held her heart. She was thinking of what it would feel like, if someone came to tell her that her children had been slain. She couldn't even hold the thought in her mind; it was painful, brought up tears like little daggers of salt water.

“Does he…have a mate?”

Sesshomaru shook his head.

“No. She is long dead. Only Histaru is left to him now.”

Her hand was suddenly on his arm, holding tightly, drawing his attention. He looked down at her, and her eyes were bright with the fierceness he most loved.

“I want to find this…this miko, Sesshomaru. She is the one who should die, not…not these children.”

Silently, he agreed with her, but the hunt would have to wait. First, the honor due the dead, and then…that scent, the scent that played hide-and-seek with him. Perhaps, when they were closer, he would know what it meant.

~=~

“What is it that has branded you with a frown, Shippou? What is it that makes you so silent?”

Miroku poked questions the way a seamstress pokes needles, and did not relent. Shippou did not intend on going anywhere; the discussions of the previous day had made that quite clear, though he was not certain what drove Shippou's decision. An adamant refusal, without reasons; and now this?

“It is this Murasaki, isn't it? You are in love, and now you have no time for old friends, that is it. Well, let me tell you - “

“Miroku!”

“What?”

Miroku sat waiting expectantly. Long years of practice had made him an expert at finagling information out of the unwary, the unsuspecting, and those who just could not escape. Having daughters had perfected his expertise into an art - and no youkai, not even a kitsune, could be as adept a deceiver as a human girl with a guilty conscience.

“I will not go, and leave Kouga behind, and Murasaki is…very strange. I have been thinking on a story she told me, and it is hard to think while being shot up with questions like arrows!”

There was a seriousness in Shippou's tone that Miroku had not expected; though he sought the source of troubles, he did not want himself to be a trouble.

“I am sorry, Shippou, but strange things are moving and it seems like no one has gone to the trouble of telling us. I should like to know. Everyone is gathering here, though I don't know why.”

He smiled, more like a grimace, and let out a low huff of laughter.

“Did you know there was a foreign child who came, asking after Kagome? When I told him that she no longer lived here, he said that he knew; and that when she arrived, couldn't I please find him, so that he might speak to her?”

Miroku shook his head.

“It's been nearly six years since Kagome came to the village. With Kaede gone, and the coming of all these strangers, I'm sure it no longer held a feeling of home for her. Even the pull of the well must have faded with time.”

Shippou's eyes and thoughts were pulled away from his contemplation, towards the dark space between the trees where the trodden-down path led to the old well.

“Do you think it would still work for her, Miroku? After all this time?”

Miroku shrugged, and stood with a groan. His joints sometimes complained at him, especially when he sat in one place for too long.

“How will we ever know, unless she goes - and who among us would ever want her to try?

Shippou stood, too, and followed Miroku as he wandered through the house and outside. Sango was standing in the low rays of sun, and as she turned towards them and waved Miroku felt a chill wash over him. The red light had shaded her body below her breasts with a ruby stain, and he hastened toward her, pulling her into his arms.

Beside them, Shippou paid no attention, sifting scents through the breeze.

“Miroku…you were not kidding.”

“Huh?”

With narrowed eyes, and then a sudden burst of laughter, Shippou ran his hands back through his hair and leaned backwards until he was almost falling over.

“Rin is coming, with Kinawai in tow, and the scent of them…ahh, if only father were here!”

Whatever Shippou's secret amusement might be, Miroku had not a clue, and his thoughts were less occupied with those coming towards them than with those who were already here.

 

It cannot get any stranger. Kouga, a memorial to the past, and Murasaki, a mystery, and Shippou, with secrets.

 

~=~

“Rin, you are sure this is the way?”

He could smell a human village, coming nearer even as he spoke, but he could not afford to have found the wrong one.

“Mmm…yes. The house, the house is…”

Her head nodded and fell against his shoulder. He could feel the heat of her through his haori, in his hands, and it was far too much heat.

“Rin, Rin, what do I do with you, Rin? Will the humans know?”

It was his fault, and he knew it, letting her fight, keeping her out in the rain, letting her tempt him - and then to just lay there, naked in the cold and the wet! It did not matter to him, it could not hurt him any, but she…he had known she was human, and this was the result!

He had had time, running and holding her and worrying, to think about the real consequences of what he had allowed to happen between them. He owed her an obligation; he owed her the truth of the bond that was between them now, but he had taken her because of desire, and because of her strength, and because there was a secret magic in her movements, strangeness in her shadow.

Sesshomaru may wish to kill me, now, but she will keep me safe from him…if she lives. And if this sickness kills her, nothing will keep me safe. He will come, and he will see me, and he will know.

 

He did not know if her sickness was serious or spurious, but he could smell it in her breath and feel it in her skin. Was there a miko in this village? He knew that the old miko, the lady Kaede, had died. Kagome had grieved, and there had been ceremonies, a funeral, but no one had said anything about a new miko.

 

I will find the lady Kagome if I must, and even Sesshomaru, and I will tell them…so that Kagome may heal her. And if there is a miko, perhaps we shall escape, she and I, for a little while.

 

Why he was so certain of Sesshomaru's wrath he could not have said, but the knowledge burned into him. Rin was something sacred, something inviolate, the one who Sesshomaru had protected first. And he - had he not taken that away?

Village scents began to loom over them, and more quickly than he had thought they were in among an edge of dwellings that had broken outward from the main body of the village and clustered up to the edge of the trees. There was a strange silence among them, a lack of movement, and he slowed, walked through the quiet houses towards the bustle that he could hear.

“So, Kinawai, that did not take long. Have you come here to make it easy for father to find you?”

“Insufferable kitsune! There is no time for this now. You knew I was coming; can't you smell her sickness?”

Shippou had not been paying any attention but now that the words were spoken, they were undeniable.

“Well, come on then. Bring her to Miroku, and I will find Teza.”

“Who is that?”

Shippou was already jogging out of sight; his voice came back to Kinawai like a leaf on the wind.

“The new miko, Kinawai.”

 

Ah…so there is a miko, here. You are safe now, Rin.

 

Soon it would be time to turn his thoughts to other worries, like the priestess who sent humans to the slaughter, seeking his life. Who could she be? Why would her hands desire to reach out and crush the life from him? He could not remember having done anything that would attract the attention of the powerful; he could not understand how a human miko would even come to know his name.

The men who had owed him allegiance, they were not trustworthy and he had known this. Humans seldom were. Could they have sought out the miko, desiring an end to the contract of his protection?

 

But no. The man…Toshiro. Hiramaki Toshiro. He said the miko sought them out, and then my life Of why, he could not say any more than I can.

 

Soon, it would be time for those worries. For now, he took slow steps following Shippou, intent on his armful of woman. Rin's face was flushed with the heat he had been feeling. A sheen of dampness glistened on her forehead, and sometime during his run her breathing had settled into a soft rasp. He wished she would wake up.

Ahead of him, there was a wide settlement of houses along a curve of road, and then a foot-path that led away from the main road and down to a large house with its lamps still lit. A dark shape of a man waited in the doorway, cast into shadow by the lamp that lit the path up to the door.

“So, Kinawai it has been a long time since we have seen you, and you have never visited us; be welcome in our home.”

Kinawai was not concerned with formal greetings. He stepped forward, and held out Rin like a talisman.

“She is ill. Shippou told me to bring her to you, Houshi-Miroku.”

Miroku grinned. He had forgotten this tiger, and how he had enjoyed having a `friend at court' - or something like that.

“Yes, Shippou has gone to fetch Teza, if she is not dead asleep. Waking that one can be a challenge, let me tell you…”

The houshi paused, and seemed to consider for a moment before he continued.

“I hope Shippou has the sense to tell her that it is Rin, who is ill, and not Sango giving birth. She would be entirely ill equipped, and extremely…upset.”

“Perhaps I should make myself scarce. I do not wish to disturb her.”

Miroku waved off the suggestion like a bad smell.

“She is a rather strange miko, I wouldn't worry about it.”

Kinawai followed Miroku as he moved out of the doorway, beckoning, and further into the house. He was led to a rather well-prepared room, in which a pair of futon had been rolled out and a lit fire blazed brightly.

“This room is this way…all the time?”

Miroku shook his head, and went to the screen at the furthest side of the room.

“Sango? Murasaki! Come meet our guests.”

He turned to Kinawai with a sheepish grin, and gestured at the cushions on the floor near the fire.

“Put Rin down and sit, if you like. We aren't very formal, it never really worked. Sango is not a conventional woman, and I -“

“And you are not a conventional Houshi. Yes, I remember. Who is Murasaki? A daughter?”

Miroku laughed, and the lines on his face relaxed a little, gave him back some of the youth that time had stolen. Kinawai saw it, the memory of the man he had known in this changed face, and felt pain. This is what is was to be human - to live, and then to grow old, and then to die. It had only been fifteen years or so since he had last since this man, and already time had wrought deep changes that would not be overturned. It would be this way for Rin.

He did not question the laughter, took a few steps instead and sat in front of the fire. Rin lay across his lap now, and he let her use his arm for a pillow, watched her eyes moving beneath her lids as she dreamed.

“Kinawai?”

Miroku sensed the change in mood, if not the reason for it. Kinawai looked up, and there was the huntress, enormously pregnant, and beside her a wolf he did not know. His nose tested out her scent; his eyes looked deep into her, but there was something wrong that he could not explain, something that did not line up.

“I remember you, lady Sango, so you must be Murasaki. Who were your parents, wolf?”

Her eyes widened, and he suddenly saw whiteness through her, an unfettered celestial light, impossibly radiant.

“Who -“

The light was gone before he finished the word, but so was Murasaki. He could just see the ends of her hair whipping around the door behind her, and then nothing. Her scent did not remain behind, as if it had never really been there at all.

“Kinawai, what on earth just happened?”

Sango's consternation made her eyebrows draw together, and Miroku held out an appeasing hand.

“Please, Sango, you should not upset yourself.”

She turned her ferocious face on her husband, and Miroku fell silent.

“Lady Sango, if I knew what is was that passed between that wolf and I, I would tell you. Since I do not, I cannot help you. Perhaps - Murasaki knows.”

His eyes peered after the way she had fled, oddly bright. He felt infected by the whiteness of that light. He wanted to be Changed, and run under the moon, and fight with cold water. He wanted to win the fish from the river, and sleep with a growl in his throat.

Then Rin shivered, and Sango saw, and went to fetch blankets, and Miroku said something about going outside to wait for Shippou and the miko, and Kinawai stared into the fire, away from them all, and felt only Rin, breathing thickly under his hands. It was not even five minutes, before there was a clatter and greeting-noises, and a red nosed young woman with an armful of bundles.

“You must be Kinawai - I am Teza, miko of this village. Is that Rin? But she's so feverish! Here, lay her here, and go away. You aren't helping, so I don't think…Miroku, will you boil water - yes, lots!”

She was a flurry of action, a fountain, a frazzled spray of words and hair and smiles and sleeves.

“Sango! Put those blankets down and get to bed. I can see him kicking through your yukata, crazy woman! Listen to the child inside you, by the gods!”

 

A strange miko, indeed. Perhaps if they all were like her, many more lives would be saved.

 

His thoughts were dark on the subject of miko, and he set Rin down as he was instructed, and moved to the corner and sat with his back against the wall. Perhaps later, when it was quiet - if she was ever quiet - he could ask this miko a few questions, and see if there was a name she knew.

 

Leiko. I will find you, Leiko.