InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Floating World ❯ Chapter 1

Floating World

by nhn

 

I.

 

The studio smelled strong of pigment, and the overpowering odor at the moment was the bitter sting of the blue-black ink. There were other colors - reds and oranges, blues and pinks, colors adequate for flowers, and - she noted - magenta and green, of tones somewhat lighter but strikingly similar to her own clothes.

 

As she watched the painter carefully inspect vials, pour their powders into shallow bowls, and mix them vigorously with cold water to form churning pastel liquids, she again questioned herself why she was doing this. Because it was the easiest thing, of course. Naraku had yet again put an obstacle before them, the Tessaiga had yet again been inadequate to surmount this obstacle, Toutousai just happened to know a trinket which would yet again augment the sword, and through investigation and bartering it was eventually found that - of all things - the item lay in the village of Marunouchi, where they had left the girl Koharu some months ago.

 

This was also the village where Kagura, Kanna, and Naraku himself made a powerful assault on their group, in the midst of which many villagers were possessed by Kagura and subsequently assaulted by Miroku and Inuyasha. Perhaps even worse was the final battle, where Kagura's winds, Inuyasha's kaze no kizu, and Kanna's reflection of the same all combined to thoroughly demolish at least half of the planted fields, ruining the harvest and - though they would not realize for many months - thoroughly bankrupting the village.

 

Many villagers fled, and others sold what few items they owned to stay on this side of starvation, but in very short time an envoy from the daimyou would arrive for his yearly taxes. He would not be easy to placate. In this region a demon battle in the fields happened to be a fairly common excuse for incompetent farming methods, and furthermore any explanation which involved an attack on the village - demon or otherwise - would be an accusation that the daimyou was unable to secure his own fiefdom. (This was plainly true but still very rude to say.) The headman's only real chance to save his village would be to kneel in the street before the entourage with a sharp knife, spill his intestines on the dirt before the daimyou's horse, and try to die as painfully and slowly as possible. A true seppuku where the person is quickly beheaded would be a faux pas, as commoners were not allowed to die in such a way, and more importantly, samurai only barely tolerated the possession of swords by commoners, so even if one could be had, handling one before the envoy of the daimyou would be egregiously offensive.

 

With this show of apology and good faith, the headman's brother and sons would have a tenable negotiating platform. In lieu of the harvest, they had little to offer but manual labor, and by that time they would already have several young men fit to be slaves for the daimyou's mines and iron-works, and several young women fit to be slaves for the daimyou's brothels, and if this was not enough some villagers in ill health have already volunteered to test the daimyou's sword. This of course immediately followed by apology for presuming any one of them was worthy enough to have the daimyou's exquisite stroke split them like cordwood.

 

II.

 

Sango and her group approached the village in the midst of this planning. They never made it to the headman. Parents preparing to sell their children would not speak to them. The children themselves threw rocks. They made their camp, more distant from the village than they would usually do so, and waited. Kirara meandered in the fields, and shortly before midnight Koharu met her there. Under cloudless moonlight and Kirara's guard, Koharu slipped out of the village and met the group. There, she explained the seriousness of the village's situation.

 

She had acknowledged Houshi-sama with a greeting that was alarmingly casual, in stark contrast to how she regarded him before. Reflecting on this later, Sango felt sure this was because she was one of the women intending to give the rest of her free life to save the village that had taken care of her during these hard times.

 

There was a ripple of confusion when, their meeting adjourned, Koharu asked for Sango, and not Houshi-sama, to walk her back to the village. Sango consented, expecting a lengthy dispute for “stealing” Houshi-sama, and for urging Houshi-sama, out of jealousy, to leave Koharu in this village. The latter accusation would not be altogether untrue.

 

Instead, Koharu told Sango that an artisan had come to the village, aged and in ill health, and the headman had given him a home and made Koharu his nurse. Still aged, but now in better health, the artisan began painting again, first whorls and lines that became flowers and trees, mountains and water, men fighting and women lounging. All this to merely work out the stiffness in his hands and the fog in his mind; all agreed that the paintings were interesting and possibly skillful but not particularly resonant with any particular aesthetic. The painter, Takeshi, had been regarded by the village as an altogether average painter, until Koharu had inadvertently come across some tightly-wrapped bamboo scrolls, containing in them images so exquisite, so realistic, and yet composed of strokes which were strikingly similar to his current mediocre work. Koharu brought these to the headman, who agreed these were indeed the work of the same man, and that Takeshi was indeed a great painter and - one might hope - could be again.

 

Sango's face most likely inquired why any of this was relevant, to which Koharu explained that it was important Sango know that there was a painter in the village who was very good. This would make it easier for Sango to accept another piece of information: Takeshi saw Sango before the group was expelled from the village, and he told Koharu that Sango had a very unique look about her, and would model well for a painting that would sell for five koku, which was slightly more than the village's missing harvest. Saving the village in this way would surely prompt the headman to part with the relic they came to the village to obtain, and would save the lives of the villagers who had so kindly adopted her.

 

Sango wondered what sort of idiot would spend a samurai's salary on a painting of a woman, and what sort of painting would possibly attract such a price.

 

The answers came to Sango after she and Koharu had parted, and after she promised to meet with Koharu and Takeshi in the morning. The type of idiot was a perverted idiot. The type of painting was a sex painting.

 

Knowing Houshi-sama would come to these conclusions ten times faster given the same information, Sango was vague, and went to the village with Koharu and Kirara the next day after leaving implicit instruction that Houshi-sama and Inuyasha would not follow. This required invoking the curse which worked every bit as well on Houshi-sama as Kagome's osuwari command worked on Inuyasha - that is, implying very strongly that she was upset and not well due to a recurring condition of which only women suffered.

 

III.

 

“My name is Takeshi. I am happy to meet you.”

 

The man was probably in his late fifties, in the latter stages of balding, and his clothes were simple and threadbare but clean. His hands, meanwhile, were calloused and stained, with black and red and blue pigments ground beneath the fingernails. He was not overweight, but what weight he had was not distributed well, in that his legs and arms were thin while his belly protruded. He greeted her with a bow that betrayed some discomfort with his back, such that Sango would have asked him to please not hurt himself if he remained in that position for more than an instant.

 

She greeted him as well, bowing much lower, to respect his age, and the fact she was invited to his home - which was a hospitality that should be recognized separate from his purpose for inviting her.

 

Takashi sat facing her, on the other side of the fire-pit, whose embers hid beneath layers of dark flaked ash and radiated a slightly perceptible heat. Koharu placed a tray of tea and rice crackers to the side which was Sango's right and Takeshi's left, and Sango took tea when prompted.

 

Takeshi took three deliberate sips, and his face changed to indicate that greeting was over and it was time to discuss business. Sango was glad for this; politeness would require her to breach the subject and volunteer her services without being told what those services would entail. She would not do this, and would just as happily have tea as Takashi's guest and then take her leave.

 

“I asked Koharu to bring you here for a purpose. At this moment I ask of you only two things. First, I ask you to not speak a word of this conversation to anyone, as that may engender confusion and lead to harm to your reputation, and mine, and Koharu's, and many other good people of this village. The matters we will discuss have been tolerated by the daimyou, but I fear that may be changing in the near future.”

 

“I can't promise to keep a secret before I know what that secret is,” cautioned Sango. “But I think I know what it is you do, and why you do it secretly, and if I am correct I can keep this confidence.”

 

He smiled. “That is a wise and calculated answer, and I will accept it. The second thing I ask you is to allow me to explain this secret to you, and once I am done, make your decision to take part or not take part. If you decide the latter, I will respect your answer and you will not be bothered again.”

 

“That is fair.”

 

“I am an artist of a style some call ukyou-e, which is a source of happiness and pride to me. But this style does not sell nearly as well as another style I often draw, which is called shunga. It is the latter style in which I have received a certain level of fame among the upper classes, and in which I've fulfilled a number of commissions. These commissions, and my self-inspired work, sometimes require a model, and for this I've paid women and men to pose. In some cases I've been asked to paint a particular person, or group of people. Other shunga artists rarely do this, so even when I've retired I can still be petitioned for work. A commission was given to me years ago, a fairly detailed request to paint a woman of the youkai taijiya clan.”

 

Sango gaped.

 

“This isn't as unusual as you think. The art of shunga is the exposure of the intimate lives of all classes of people. There are many works of farmers and merchants and artisans, and of samurai and courtesans. But no work was ever made of a taijiya man or woman.”

 

“For good reason!” said Sango. “My people would never have allowed such disgrace!”

 

Takashi shrugged.

 

“I'd never seen a taijiya so I declined. This commission was for one koku, which is of course a very large amount. Recently, I received an amended commission for five koku, which is so absurd I would have assumed my intermediary was a fool if I did not know him as well as I do. I was intending to send another letter declining until I noticed you and your group. Even though I had never seen one, I knew for certain that a taijiya woman should look exactly like you.”

 

“The village was destroyed,” Sango said. “And yet someone would pay so much to soil the image of those who have died.”

 

“You may look at it that way,” said Takashi. “But I don't think that is the case. I think someone was in love with one of your fellow taijiya, a love over some great distance, and now that she is dead, that person wants even more desperately an expression of the beauty of her clan.”

 

Sango supposed this was not surprising; taijiya women were well-known to be strong and outspoken, and many men found that attractive - the walls of the village dissuaded waves of suitors as well as demons.

 

“But the person asking for this work is anonymous, and his or her purpose is as well-hidden as his identity. I can guarantee you that this shunga piece would be sealed and seen by no one but the person requesting it - my work is respected enough that even a daimyou would heed my request for utmost discretion. But who that person is, and what he or she will feel upon seeing this piece, is something I cannot control. That is the nature of what I do.”

 

“You say `his or her.' Do you think a woman would make such a request?”

 

“Women of the upper classes have many idle pursuits, Taijiyasan. I make no assumptions.”

 

Sango relaxed, taking another rice cake and balancing it on her fingers.

 

“You admit, though with subtlety, that it is possible that this artwork you want to do will be the source of perverse enjoyment for some anonymous man. That is not something you would say of you were trying very hard to persuade me.”

 

“If something is worth doing, it is worth doing honestly. I will not mislead you.”

 

“You will not surprise me either, I hope.”

 

“That is not my intention.”

 

“You want me to pose for you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You want me to be disrobed.”

 

“Partially.”

 

She placed the rice cake on her tongue and let it dissolve.

 

“Give me all the details, and then I will make my decision.”

 

IV.

 

When Sango agreed, after many contingencies were satisfied, Koharu embraced her and wept. She kept a secret that would burden Sango if she had refused, though it was a secret Sango already suspected. Along with several of her friends, Koharu had volunteered to be sold to a house of prostitution to buy the daimyou's leniency, because she heard that a virgin would fetch a higher price.

 

Takeshi suggested Sango return later, so she would have more time to consider her decision, but if she returned to the others only to leave them again, that would arouse too much suspicion. So Takeshi prepared his paints and Sango went behind a partition to undress.

 

The pose was negotiated, to meet Sango's personal comfort, and to ensure that the taijiya woman that she portrayed - the spirit of her village - did justice to her clan. This deviated slightly from the commission request, but Takeshi believed this would still be accepted, as the alternative was no picture at all.

 

She would be naked. This she could do. But she would not be captured and demeaned. The implied request for a taijiya woman who was defeated by some enemy, her wrists bound by rope, her weapon out of reach, her clothes torn to expose her breasts, and her legs spread wide through some creative use of knots and wooden sticks, such that the flesh between was wide and glistening and ready to accept - it need not be said that such an image would never be made.

 

What this commissioner would see would be Sango, a woman of the taijiya, who was beautiful and defiant and proud, who held Hiraikotsu in her right hand, and her drawn wakizashi in her left, both weapons in a state of post-battle rest, and for some reason - perhaps she had been attacked by youkai while bathing - all she wore was a white-and-pink kosode. Without benefit of an obi or any other securing device, this single piece of clothing had become open, and fallen from her shoulders, so that it hung motionless from the crook of either elbow, and otherwise did not touch or in any way obscure her body, but merely pooled to the ground just behind her bare feet. These feet were arranged in a battle posture, her right foot turned to be nearly parallel with her shoulders, a strong foundation from which the power to cast Hiraikotsu came, and the left pointed forward toward her unseen and dispatched enemy. Her knees were only slightly bent; if the enemy should appear again she could fall into a deeper crouch and throw her weapon with her right, or else roll forward with her left while she brought her sword to bear. Her strength was evident in the muscles of her arms, the square of her shoulders, the firmness of her breast, the slope of her abdomen, the curve of her buttock, the sweep of her thigh, and the crook of her knee - turned in such a way that the viewer would know only that at some point below her navel there was an indication of what might be shadow, and what might be a patch of dark hair, and beyond that there was only the viewer's dreams. Despite all this the taijiya did not blush or cower or shame, for the woman in the painting exposed herself only to dead youkai, and in the next instant she would safe her weapons and return to her bath.

 

After several hours, with about four breaks each hour, Takeshi was finished. Sango dressed, and studied the image of her - she was surprised, to think such a display could make her appear so imposing!

 

“This meets your approval then, Taijiyasan?”

 

“It does, Takeshi-sensei.”

 

“Good. I will make some adjustments over the next few days, and when I am done this will be sealed and delivered.”

 

Takeshi moved to one corner of the hut and pried loose a floorboard. From this he produced a round object wrapped in a sack, which he placed before Sango.

 

“This will save you some time, I think. Koharu explained you were looking for this item, so I asked to borrow it for a short time. In one week I will tell the headman that I have lost it, and apologize, and for his trouble I will give the village five koku. I think he will forgive me.”

 

V.

 

He had requested this art piece nearly three years ago, through various intermediaries, and taken great care to conceal his identity. He hoped that some member of her clan had survived, and would be willing to compromise and be made into the image he so desperately needed.

 

His patience was rewarded, for the artist that finally fulfilled the contract made a work that was not what he requested but what he desired so much he was afraid to ask.

 

How did the artist know what she looked like? How could he know her image so well? He asked only for a taijiya woman, with very little physical description, but the artist drew the woman in his mind with precision. How was this even possible?

 

The answer came to him in a rush of emotion: Sango had taken off her clothes for him, exposed her immaculate body to his unworthy eyes, and - knowing that a life with him could never be had - she had been so merciful to him, and given him the treasure that would sustain him in his life with lesser women.

 

This painting was Sango. It was a religious icon, and it was her honor, which he would protect with his life. No other shall see this treasure, or even know of its existence.

 

He had been praised for his actions since returning to Shinano and taking charge of the newly captured castle at Toshi, and his army was requested to support an excursion to seek out Uesugi Kenshin near Kawanakajima in June. To ensure victory, he would cloister himself for three days of private prayer and meditation.

 

With his bedroom sealed, Takeda Kuranosuke undressed and worshipped Sango, which he had done many times before, but never with such intensity.

 

END