InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Forbidden Love ❯ Chapter III ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: rockthedragon7 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.27.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 310 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.27.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 310 | Status: Completed
Chapter III
Izayoi hummed a lullaby tune softly to herself as she strolled carelessly along, dancing across the patched of lackluster olive on the woodland floor. How she loved these walks unescorted. How she love this forest. It gave her treasured moments to reminisce of all the things that were on her mind, gave her the valued time to be alone with her thoughts. Her father - he was terribly busy. He didn’t often have the time of day to spend with her anymore. He worked all day and long into the night. He was too stubborn to admit that he was growing old. It seemed that he was working himself to his grave. Her mother - she was dearly missed. A year and seven months had crept by since she passed away, leaving a weary husband and a lonely daughter behind. Oh, but they knew how sorry she was to have left them so. The memories brought both sadness and joy, but no longer tears to Izayoi’s eyes. She knew how her father cried at night. From her bedroom she could hear him sobbing himself to sleep over his work.
‘Poor Father. He’s had such a dreadful time coping with Mother’s death,’ Izayoi thought woefully to herself. ‘Oh, I wish that there was something I could do…’ She hesitated. There at her feet were the elaborate purple flowers of the ikarisou plant. Izayoi crouched down to admire the blossoms. ‘Mother’s favorite flower. I had almost stepped on them.’ She smiled. ‘Father would love to have these in the house. Maybe they will help him forget his pain over Mother.’ Gently, as though the blossoms were made of fine glass, she broke the stems and gathered the ikarisou into her hand.
Izayoi didn’t hear the stealthy silence of the feet approaching her, the footfalls of an expert hunter over the leaf-littered forest floor. She didn’t hear them over the sound of her own melodic voice…not until the hunter’s feet hit the ground only inches before her very eyes. Izayoi’s singing came to an abrupt, startled halt. With her hand frozen, stretched toward the ikarisou, she slowly, timidly turned her gaze upward to the figure standing before her. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met the red-eyes stare of the man, his lips curled up into a wicked smile, displaying a set of piercing fangs. She tried to tell her body to move, but there she was, looking up at this clearly sinful deamon, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of violet flowers. There she was. Seventeen years old, alone in the woods. ‘I should have listened to Father!’ she was thinking feverishly. ‘Why didn’t I listen!?’
The demon grinned down at her, his eyes cold and harsh. “If it ain’t the pretty miss from the human village.” His tongue snaked out from behind his pointed teeth, sliding evilly over his black lips. “Let’s see what you taste like.” At those words, Izayoi leapt up, dropping the flowers, turning to run, but a strong hand seized her wrist painfully. She let out a shocked gasp, and the demon roughly pulled her closer, holding her shoulders firmly, the ikarisou crushed beneath her feet. Izayoi struggled against his potent grip, squirming and striking his chest, but to no avail. The demon’s greenish tongue slithered up one side of her fair face, and she tried to pull away in disgust. “Sweet, sickeningly sweet,” the beast hissed, his tongue caressing her face. “How perfectly filthy.”
“Aren’t you one to talk, Kyouaku,” came a deep, charming voice.
The demon faltered, his tongue hanging from his mouth in shocked confusion. Reluctantly, he turned his red-eyes gaze away from Izayoi, toward the strange voice. After a moment, he had gotten over his surprise, and sneered in distaste. “Well, well. Look what the cat coughed up. Sugimi Inu no Taishou, Lord of the Western Lands.”
Izayoi stared in both shock and fascination at this man who was the image of a warlord with all the power and supremacy of an emperor, fully garbed in black and silver armor, a heavy cloak of ivory fur fastened to his shoulders without two pieces of barbed, riveted metal plates, and a crimson and azure sash tied about his waist. His hands were gloved and his feet booted with white and ebony. His gossamer, gorgeous silver hair was tied up with a red ribbon, and his golden eyes were overwhelming with the most alluring, immeasurable sense of passion that she had ever seen in all of her life. How spellbinding! How captivating! How ruggedly handsome he was, this man, this Lord of the Western Lands who stood only five steps away. Izayoi could feel her heart begin to tingle.
Sugimi nodded, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his decorative katana. “Indeed. Now, release the girl, Kyouaku.”
Kyouaku glared. “You are here about the human?” At the demon lord’s silence, he cackled loudly. “Of course! You’ve always had a soft spot for mortals, haven’t you! A demon that loves humans? Their lives are meaningless!”
Izayoi’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Demon!?’
Sugimi cocked his head to one side. “Meaningless, Kyouaku? You would think such a false thing, and I would expect no less from your fetid jaw. I don’t suppose that your life is any more significant than hers, then.” Kyouaku was quiet with bewilderment. “Now, release the girl.”
The other demon leered menacingly. “I will not! My life is far more profound, far more valuable that this worthless human’s, and even that of a human-lover such as yourself!” Izayoi flinched as his claws began to cut into her shoulders with his anger.
The demon lord narrowed his eyes. “I am losing patience for this idiocy, Kyouaku. Release the girl.” His fangs were bared, his golden orbs burned with fiery intensity, his clawed fingers tightened around the hilt of the katana at his left hip.
“I will not!” was all that Kyouaku had time to shout to the demon lord before he found himself knocked to the ground, the breath ripped from his lungs, and a throbbing pain is his cracked skull. Izayoi was flung to the dirt, her black hair tumbling over her stunned features, and she glanced up at Sugimi, his katana drawn from its sheath as he shot a look of flaming swords at the fallen demon. Kyouaku touched the bump on his head, cringing at the sharp ache, and knowing what had just transpire - Sugimi had struck him with the hilt of the katana. The beast’s fearful eyes met the heated, threatening glare of the demon lord, and Kyouaku staggered to his feet, running off into the woods.
Sugimi straightened, sheathing his katana, and turned to Izayoi who still lay frightened and shocked on the ground. ‘How had he moved so quickly!? Of course, how could I forget,’ she thought bitterly to herself. ‘How ironic to be saved from a demon…by another demon.’ The demon lord held out a hand to her, and she was reluctant, glancing back and forth between those deadly claws and those beautiful eyes. He could cut her to ribbons, and charm her all at the same time…she was more concerns about being hewn to bits.
“Claws, yes?” Sugimi’s voice was soft and beguiling when he caught her staring rather anxiously at his hand, and she turned her gaze upward. He smiled. “Do not worry. They are dull.”
“Dull?” Izayoi echoed skeptically as she hesitantly reached for his hand, keeping her eyes trained on his face, searching for signs of deception, but found not a trace. His fingers closed about hers, his strong palm dwarfing her delicate hand, and he effortlessly lifted her to her feet. For one so unbridled, for a demon, even with hands that were calloused and rough as his, he was extraordinarily gentle as he held her soft fingers within his palm.
“Yes, they are quite blunt, in fact,” Sugimi grinned as he released her hand. “It has been a good many years since I have last sharpened them in battle.”
Izayoi simply looked up to him with strangely mixed emotions. He was a good head taller than she, with powerful elegance and formidable dominion, but he almost radiated with a divine benevolence. His every feature spoke of very un-demon-like compassion, but what of those claws, what of those fangs? Did those gentle hands and that disarming smile have bloodstains on them? Part of her was deathly afraid of him, but another part longed to love him. He was an enigma, but such a fascinating mystery.
Izayoi quickly averted her gaze. There was a long moment of silence, a long moment before she turned away. “I must go.”
She started away, but was halted by Sugimi’s call. “Hold.” Izayoi slowly faced him, partially out of fear, partially out of wonder. As he stood there, she thought he look almost innocent under the dancing light filtering through the treetops, with that empathetic expression on his face. “I believe you dropped these.” She hesitantly took the ikarisou from his hand as if they would shatter at her fingertips. “What is your name, jourou?” the demon lord asked.
Izayoi looked to him, clutching the blossoms like they would float away from her. Her voice was a mere whisper to her ears, but a good deal louder to his. “Izayoi.” She suddenly remembered the flowers, and how they had seemingly appeared in his hands. “How did you…”
Sugimi silenced her with a clawed finger set to his lips. “Ah, but that is for me to know.” He bowed his head to her. “It has been a pleasure, Izayoi.”
She dipped her head distractedly in reply, and speechlessly watched him disappear back into the forest. For a minute, Izayoi stood staring down his empty path, and finally glanced at the bouquet in her hands with puzzlement. “Sugimi Inu no Taishou…” she said aloud, woodenly to herself as she turned and headed for home.
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Izayoi hummed a lullaby tune softly to herself as she strolled carelessly along, dancing across the patched of lackluster olive on the woodland floor. How she loved these walks unescorted. How she love this forest. It gave her treasured moments to reminisce of all the things that were on her mind, gave her the valued time to be alone with her thoughts. Her father - he was terribly busy. He didn’t often have the time of day to spend with her anymore. He worked all day and long into the night. He was too stubborn to admit that he was growing old. It seemed that he was working himself to his grave. Her mother - she was dearly missed. A year and seven months had crept by since she passed away, leaving a weary husband and a lonely daughter behind. Oh, but they knew how sorry she was to have left them so. The memories brought both sadness and joy, but no longer tears to Izayoi’s eyes. She knew how her father cried at night. From her bedroom she could hear him sobbing himself to sleep over his work.
‘Poor Father. He’s had such a dreadful time coping with Mother’s death,’ Izayoi thought woefully to herself. ‘Oh, I wish that there was something I could do…’ She hesitated. There at her feet were the elaborate purple flowers of the ikarisou plant. Izayoi crouched down to admire the blossoms. ‘Mother’s favorite flower. I had almost stepped on them.’ She smiled. ‘Father would love to have these in the house. Maybe they will help him forget his pain over Mother.’ Gently, as though the blossoms were made of fine glass, she broke the stems and gathered the ikarisou into her hand.
Izayoi didn’t hear the stealthy silence of the feet approaching her, the footfalls of an expert hunter over the leaf-littered forest floor. She didn’t hear them over the sound of her own melodic voice…not until the hunter’s feet hit the ground only inches before her very eyes. Izayoi’s singing came to an abrupt, startled halt. With her hand frozen, stretched toward the ikarisou, she slowly, timidly turned her gaze upward to the figure standing before her. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met the red-eyes stare of the man, his lips curled up into a wicked smile, displaying a set of piercing fangs. She tried to tell her body to move, but there she was, looking up at this clearly sinful deamon, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of violet flowers. There she was. Seventeen years old, alone in the woods. ‘I should have listened to Father!’ she was thinking feverishly. ‘Why didn’t I listen!?’
The demon grinned down at her, his eyes cold and harsh. “If it ain’t the pretty miss from the human village.” His tongue snaked out from behind his pointed teeth, sliding evilly over his black lips. “Let’s see what you taste like.” At those words, Izayoi leapt up, dropping the flowers, turning to run, but a strong hand seized her wrist painfully. She let out a shocked gasp, and the demon roughly pulled her closer, holding her shoulders firmly, the ikarisou crushed beneath her feet. Izayoi struggled against his potent grip, squirming and striking his chest, but to no avail. The demon’s greenish tongue slithered up one side of her fair face, and she tried to pull away in disgust. “Sweet, sickeningly sweet,” the beast hissed, his tongue caressing her face. “How perfectly filthy.”
“Aren’t you one to talk, Kyouaku,” came a deep, charming voice.
The demon faltered, his tongue hanging from his mouth in shocked confusion. Reluctantly, he turned his red-eyes gaze away from Izayoi, toward the strange voice. After a moment, he had gotten over his surprise, and sneered in distaste. “Well, well. Look what the cat coughed up. Sugimi Inu no Taishou, Lord of the Western Lands.”
Izayoi stared in both shock and fascination at this man who was the image of a warlord with all the power and supremacy of an emperor, fully garbed in black and silver armor, a heavy cloak of ivory fur fastened to his shoulders without two pieces of barbed, riveted metal plates, and a crimson and azure sash tied about his waist. His hands were gloved and his feet booted with white and ebony. His gossamer, gorgeous silver hair was tied up with a red ribbon, and his golden eyes were overwhelming with the most alluring, immeasurable sense of passion that she had ever seen in all of her life. How spellbinding! How captivating! How ruggedly handsome he was, this man, this Lord of the Western Lands who stood only five steps away. Izayoi could feel her heart begin to tingle.
Sugimi nodded, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his decorative katana. “Indeed. Now, release the girl, Kyouaku.”
Kyouaku glared. “You are here about the human?” At the demon lord’s silence, he cackled loudly. “Of course! You’ve always had a soft spot for mortals, haven’t you! A demon that loves humans? Their lives are meaningless!”
Izayoi’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Demon!?’
Sugimi cocked his head to one side. “Meaningless, Kyouaku? You would think such a false thing, and I would expect no less from your fetid jaw. I don’t suppose that your life is any more significant than hers, then.” Kyouaku was quiet with bewilderment. “Now, release the girl.”
The other demon leered menacingly. “I will not! My life is far more profound, far more valuable that this worthless human’s, and even that of a human-lover such as yourself!” Izayoi flinched as his claws began to cut into her shoulders with his anger.
The demon lord narrowed his eyes. “I am losing patience for this idiocy, Kyouaku. Release the girl.” His fangs were bared, his golden orbs burned with fiery intensity, his clawed fingers tightened around the hilt of the katana at his left hip.
“I will not!” was all that Kyouaku had time to shout to the demon lord before he found himself knocked to the ground, the breath ripped from his lungs, and a throbbing pain is his cracked skull. Izayoi was flung to the dirt, her black hair tumbling over her stunned features, and she glanced up at Sugimi, his katana drawn from its sheath as he shot a look of flaming swords at the fallen demon. Kyouaku touched the bump on his head, cringing at the sharp ache, and knowing what had just transpire - Sugimi had struck him with the hilt of the katana. The beast’s fearful eyes met the heated, threatening glare of the demon lord, and Kyouaku staggered to his feet, running off into the woods.
Sugimi straightened, sheathing his katana, and turned to Izayoi who still lay frightened and shocked on the ground. ‘How had he moved so quickly!? Of course, how could I forget,’ she thought bitterly to herself. ‘How ironic to be saved from a demon…by another demon.’ The demon lord held out a hand to her, and she was reluctant, glancing back and forth between those deadly claws and those beautiful eyes. He could cut her to ribbons, and charm her all at the same time…she was more concerns about being hewn to bits.
“Claws, yes?” Sugimi’s voice was soft and beguiling when he caught her staring rather anxiously at his hand, and she turned her gaze upward. He smiled. “Do not worry. They are dull.”
“Dull?” Izayoi echoed skeptically as she hesitantly reached for his hand, keeping her eyes trained on his face, searching for signs of deception, but found not a trace. His fingers closed about hers, his strong palm dwarfing her delicate hand, and he effortlessly lifted her to her feet. For one so unbridled, for a demon, even with hands that were calloused and rough as his, he was extraordinarily gentle as he held her soft fingers within his palm.
“Yes, they are quite blunt, in fact,” Sugimi grinned as he released her hand. “It has been a good many years since I have last sharpened them in battle.”
Izayoi simply looked up to him with strangely mixed emotions. He was a good head taller than she, with powerful elegance and formidable dominion, but he almost radiated with a divine benevolence. His every feature spoke of very un-demon-like compassion, but what of those claws, what of those fangs? Did those gentle hands and that disarming smile have bloodstains on them? Part of her was deathly afraid of him, but another part longed to love him. He was an enigma, but such a fascinating mystery.
Izayoi quickly averted her gaze. There was a long moment of silence, a long moment before she turned away. “I must go.”
She started away, but was halted by Sugimi’s call. “Hold.” Izayoi slowly faced him, partially out of fear, partially out of wonder. As he stood there, she thought he look almost innocent under the dancing light filtering through the treetops, with that empathetic expression on his face. “I believe you dropped these.” She hesitantly took the ikarisou from his hand as if they would shatter at her fingertips. “What is your name, jourou?” the demon lord asked.
Izayoi looked to him, clutching the blossoms like they would float away from her. Her voice was a mere whisper to her ears, but a good deal louder to his. “Izayoi.” She suddenly remembered the flowers, and how they had seemingly appeared in his hands. “How did you…”
Sugimi silenced her with a clawed finger set to his lips. “Ah, but that is for me to know.” He bowed his head to her. “It has been a pleasure, Izayoi.”
She dipped her head distractedly in reply, and speechlessly watched him disappear back into the forest. For a minute, Izayoi stood staring down his empty path, and finally glanced at the bouquet in her hands with puzzlement. “Sugimi Inu no Taishou…” she said aloud, woodenly to herself as she turned and headed for home.
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