InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Heart of a Thief ❯ The Gifts of Destiny ( Chapter 11 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I own nothing InuYasha-related and make no profit from this fic.
 
 
Chapter 11: The Gifts of Destiny
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After Kuromu had left, Shikaeru spent some time brooding over the uncertainty of the future and the fact that they couldn't go back down the road they had taken. Things seemed to have come to a dead-end and the only means she saw that would get them out of that corner would be to pray that Lord Hakujou would do something to put security back into their lives and give them a place to live. She was never one for begging, but she wasn't going to declare that an unviable option before she had gone through all other alternatives. It didn't take long for her to become mentally fatigued by the stress and she decided to deliberate over the matter later after Kuromu returned. I need his opinion, and besides, if something happens to him, it could change our circumstances so much that whatever I come up with might become useless.
 
She stood and crossed the room to the door. When she opened it, she came face to face with someone who had just been about to knock on the doorframe. I'm sensing a pattern here… she thought, moodiness once again creeping in to dominate her other emotions. “Can I help you?” she asked to the dark haired stranger who seemed a little taken off guard by the coincidence.
 
“Um, yes. I assume you're Shikaeru?”
 
No, I'm some other person who just randomly showed up. “Yes I am,” she answered, her eyes reiterating the message in her voice that told him to `hurry up so we can get this over with.'
 
“My father has requested that you and your traveling partner come join him for dinner tomorrow night,” he said in a slightly hurried voice.
 
“Your father?” Shikaeru question as she raised an eyebrow to his vagueness.
 
“Lord Hakujou,” he clarified. “Since it would seem that the only clothing you have with you is what you are wearing now, he has arranged for you to go to be fitted for additional garments.”
 
Can't this guy talk without making everything sound so formal? Ok, he's Lord Hakujou's son, but still, he needs to learn how to relax once in a while. “Where do I need to go for that?”
 
“I could take you there now if you're ready,” he answered.
 
As if there's anything else I could be doing. “Well, I'm ready now, so lead on.”
 
She followed him down a few hallways that took them the opposite direction of the ones she had taken earlier to find some breakfast. They came to a door with a frame painted black and they waited a moment after he had knocked for it to be answered. When it slid open, a very small, old woman stood before them in an odd sort of indigo kimono adorned with silver koi. “So this is her? Well, come on in so we can get things started,” she said with a voice that reminded Shikaeru of the meaningful but tangled growth of branches of an ancient tree.
 
The old lady had surprising strength for her size and pulled Shikaeru into the room before she could say anything to the Lord's son. “This must be important if Lord Hakujou is insisting that I have a kimono ready for you tonight,” the old lady muttered partly to herself. “Come stand over here in the light so I can see you well enough.”
 
Shikaeru moved to where the lady had pointed with one knobby finger. The older woman looked her up and down with a well-trained eye and seemed to be making a fair number of mental notes. “What sort of kimono will I wear?” Shikaeru asked after a moment as the woman continued sizing her up.
 
“Something special if they sent you to me. Turn around for me.”
 
Shikaeru did as she was told and faced the corner of the room for a moment before the woman approached her. “How old are you?” she asked after judging her height.
 
“Almost fourteen,” Shikaeru answered, feeling a small bit of pride for the imminent next step towards womanhood.
 
The woman hummed at her answered. “I'll have to make sure the kimono leaves room for you to grow. It won't be long until you'll have to replace a few shirts.”
 
Shikaeru blushed at the comment but also found the reminder uplifting. She could tell she was already changing, but it would be another thing entirely when other people could notice it too. She wondered briefly about what Kuromu's reaction might be. The woman walked over to the doorway of an adjoining room and threw a “stay here” over her shoulder before moving out of sight. A moment later she brought out a kimono and gingerly set it down on a smooth table in the corner. “I believe this should fit you well enough,” she said as she motioned Shikaeru over to her. “I designed this furisode decades ago but I refused to make it until I found the silk that was meant for it. It wasn't until recently that I finally found the silk that was its match.”
 
“What do you mean by `the silk that was meant for it'?” Shikaeru asked as she regarded the beautiful kimono before her.
 
“When some people make a kimono, they simply construct a garment to be worn. But I know the secret to giving life to it and letting it reach a state of unity. Part of the process is making sure you have the right silk for it, lest you wish to crush its potential and trap its life behind a façade. Using the wrong silk is like making somebody wear a mask day in and day out. The person doesn't change because they're hidden behind the mask, but the rest of the world will never be able to truly know their identity. You wouldn't wish to live your life behind a mask, would you?”
 
“No,” she answered and a pang of guilt rippled through her as she came to a realization. That's what I've done to Kuromu. I've given him a mask to wear, to protect him, but all I've done is lock him away from living his life freely.
 
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Kagarou and Kuromu descended the steep snowy hill that led them into the small town Kagarou had spoken of earlier. The plain buildings, seemingly huddled together against the cold, reminded Kuromu a little too much of his old home. They traveled down a few narrow streets until they reached a small shop with a sagging roof and a weathered wooden sign hanging above the door. “Kagarou!” came the voice of an old man who shuffled out of the shop upon sighting the pair on horseback. “It's been too long since I've been able to talk with you face to face. I see you are still in one piece?”
 
“As I always will be,” the pale man answered with a smile.
 
The old man's gaze shifted to Kuromu and scrutinized him for a moment. “Who is this you've brought with you?”
 
“This is Onigumo, and he is in need of a new bow. What can you do to help us?”
 
“Hmmm, I don't know if it'd work perfectly, but I have something that should fit him. Why don't you come on in and I can show it to you. Just tie to horses to the post on end and they shouldn't be bothered,” he answered as he retreated into the darkness of the shop.
 
Kagarou and Kuromu dismounted and led the horses to the corner post that the old man had pointed to. Kuromu began to tie Aisuchi's reigns around the post as he received a glare from the horse as if Aisuchi found it to be an insult to his intelligence to be tied up like some common animal. Kuromu ignored the resentful stare as best he could and followed Kagarou into the shop.
 
The smell of treated leather and wood shavings met him as he was engulfed by the warm darkness of the shop. As his eyes adjusted to the change in light, he could see racks holding lengths of leather, partially carved bows, and other raw materials lining the walls. “I have a few new bows,” the old man began, tearing Kuromu's attention away from his surroundings and back to the task at hand. “But the one that I think will be the best match is this one.”
 
Kuromu watched as the man went to a rack on the far wall and took down a bow protected in a cloth sleeve. The protective layer was removed and dark, polished wood gleamed in the dim light, looking as smooth as silk. The old man strung the bow and held it carefully before him. “See if you like the weight of it and the feel of it under your hand,” the old man said as he handed the beautiful weapon the Kuromu. “I have a small range set up out back, so why don't you go and test it a few times.”
 
Kuromu nodded and followed the man's gesture to a door that led him back outside. A few quivers hung from a bracket on the wall and he took an arrow from one before going to the edge of the deck that projected from the back of the shop. A simple target hung from a tree branch not ten yards from him and he took aim, expecting anything but a challenge. But when he released the arrow, the bow gave an odd sort of kickback that caused his arm to become unsteady and jerk the arrow from its desired path. The arrow shot far off into the trees and Kuromu felt the stirring of memories he would rather forget about. He took another arrow and tried a second time, but received the same sharp kickback that once again ruined the shot. “I guess that bow's just not the right one for you,” came the old man's voice from the doorway leading back into the shop. “It's been a while since the last time I've considered this…”
 
Kuromu watched the old man falling into deep thought, his eyes gazing absently off as if looking upon a distant memory. “Not much luck then?” Kagarou asked as he came to stand behind the shopkeeper.
 
The old man surfaced from his thoughts and reengaged himself in reality. “Not yet, but I have something that I'm almost certain will be the one.”
 
“Yeah, but you said pretty much the same thing about the last one,” Kagarou chided in a teasing way.
 
“Ah, enough with you. You were bad enough when you were his age, but I would've thought you'd have grown out of it by now… Oh well, I'll be back in a moment.”
 
The old man faded back into the dimness of the shop, the sounds of his footsteps betraying his course as he went off into one of the far corners of the shop. The silence that came after he stopped only lasted a few seconds before it was shattered by the sound of various pieces of equipment crashing to the floor, accompanied by the old man's cursing. A few moments more passed before he finally reappeared from the darkness
 
A cloth bag as dark as midnight protected the bow the man held, and it glinted softly in the sunlight. He removed the bag almost reverently and held the bow for a moment as if it were made of glass, simply looking down at the priceless weapon in his hands. He strung it and exchanged it for the one Kuromu had tested. “If this bow doesn't work for you, nothing I can make will,” the old man said in a serious tone.
 
Kuromu felt a sense of unease as he admired the deadly work of art. There almost seemed to be a tingling in his skin where his hand touched the bow, and an odd sense of power surged into him like electricity. The old man handed him an arrow and Kuromu prepared for the next shot without even really focusing on what his hands where doing. He found himself standing at the edge of the deck with the bow drawn and the target in his direct line of fire. He let the string slip from his fingers as he pulled his hand back and watched the arrow's flight path. A soft whisper accompanied its departure and it slipped almost silently through the air, taking barely a blink of an eye to meet the target. “I believe we have found our match,” the old man said quietly, looking at the hole where the arrow had passed through the thin wood target.
 
Kuromu looked down at the bow that almost hummed with disturbing vibrancy, the black wood taking on its own luminosity despite the reflection of the sun's rays on the snow.
 
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The woman brought out a kimono for Shikaeru that was a deep purple color. “I believe this should do nicely,” she said as she spread it out on a long table.
 
Gold cranes where embroidered on the furisode along with silver blossoms that started at the bottom and spread upward. At the collar and the hems of the long sleeves were smaller versions of the flowers and cranes, winding around each other gracefully. Shikaeru came to stand next to the woman and delicately felt the silk garment with her fingertips.
 
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“How much will the bow cost me?” Kuromu asked.
 
“Don't worry about that, just take it. The bow was meant for you and it's not my place to stand between it and its rightful owner,” the old man stated firmly, even as he looked at the bow as if he were losing an old friend.
 
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“It's beautiful,” Shikaeru said softly, her eyes never leaving the cranes that danced among the flowers.
 
“Let's make sure that it fits before you get too attached to it,” the woman said, eyes brightening with the compliment.
 
Shikaeru nodded and stepped away from the table so the woman could have room to free the various components of the kimono from each other so it would be possible to be tried on.