InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Honden ❯ Chapter 1

Honden

by nhn

 

There is no suffering

No cause of suffering

No end to suffering

No path to follow

There is no attainment of wisdom

And no wisdom to attain

-Heart Sutra

 

I'm on my second drink

But I had a couple drinks before

I'm trying hard to think

And I think I want you on the floor

- The Donnas

 

-1-
Consciousness

 

After dinner had settled, after the last suggestion of sunlight no longer made a mark on the paper streamers over the window, after the hut was made warm with candles, Kagome took the clay cup in her hands, hesitated for a moment, and - in three quick sips, as Kaede instructed - drank the lukewarm tea, which was staunchly bitter in the way that powerful hallucinogenic drugs tended to be.

 

So she had heard. She'd never even smoked a cigarette before.

 

 

Kagome was not herself but did not quite know who she was yet.

 

Kaede had said nothing about how she should behave. She thought, at the beginning, that she should perhaps be quiet and meditative, but the drink made it difficult to be quiet. Thoughts and memories flowed, and more importantly, the sensation of speech, the feel of her mouth moving, her tongue moving inside her mouth, felt unusually intense. She breathed air as if it were candy; each molecule dissolving on her tongue and cheerfully becoming part of her.

 

 

She realized that Sango was not listening to her, and hadn't been listening to her for a while. Sango's eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling slightly. She was sleeping sitting up, like Miroku did sometimes.

 

Kagome realized the floor felt exquisite to her, and she lay flat, her palms caressing the planks worn smooth by thousands of passes of damp rags, and breathed warm wood and earth.

 

 

The music was amazing. She didn't know when it started, but it had been gradually becoming louder and clearer. Her CD player and a set of speakers, hidden somewhere, probably as a way for her to pass the time.

 

Was she supposed to dance?

 

Of course she was supposed to dance.

 

She danced.

 

 

In the beginning she danced as she thought priestesses should dance, as an oracle would dance - strong strokes, stomping, a firm connection to the ground, and waving arms, tree branches reaching the sky. This is what priestesses did.

 

Would she make a prophecy?

 

Was Sango here to listen to this prophecy?

 

 

The music became different. Now she was in Tokyo, past curfew, watching the older high school students come to Shibuya, some of them going toward the heated energy of the clubs, others going toward the equally heated energy of the love hotels. She could tell by the way the couples held hands which direction they would go. Her friends would giggle, and point out foreigners with their sandals and cargo shorts, their black Jansport backpacks, their shoulders slack - they were lost - their expressions hopeful - this was a good place to find a Japanese girl who wore too much makeup and have sex with her.

 

“He'll pay our way into Gaspanic, Kagome, just tell him you like him,” said Yuki.

 

“Say `Faaku mi puriisu,'” said Ayumi. “A girl in our class got a whole wardrobe from a Westerner just for saying that.”

 

“Westerners don't bathe,” said Ayame. Wandering Tokyo and watching guys being continually drawn into clubs and bars by suggestions of cheap beer, nude shows, and massages, tended to get old after a few weekends. But ice cream was always delicious.

 

 

The music was like one of those clubs now, the heavy beat places with hours-long waits and 7000 yen covers. Club Yellow, was that still open? She's been in the sengoku jidai for 500 years.

 

She danced.

 

She sweat.

 

She drank more.

 

The words came from Kagome in Kikyou's voice. Sango wrote them down as quickly as she could manage.

 

-2-

Will

 

She was in the quiet alley, some hours before sundown, shortly after the stores selling flowers and fruit, pottery and artwork, and other items of the day had closed, and shortly before the stores selling beer and whiskey, fried eel and donburi, and sex of every technically legal means had opened - the doors remained closed, the meter-high self-standing light-up signs remained blocking them - and thus neither the day-shoppers nor the night-shoppers were to be seen or heard; the only footsteps on the hard asphalt were her own loafers, echoing against the three- and five-story multipurpose buildings which crowded shoulder-to-shoulder on this and every block of Shinjuku. None of these buildings were older than Kagome. Seventeen years from today, none of them would be here anymore. They would be new buildings, taller than before. Here, humans had longer lives than stones. Here, nothing 500 years old existed.

 

The sensation of hands reaching around her waist caused her to -

 

She was in the wooded valley, and the fog rolled down from the mountains, a knee-deep carpet, hazy blue in the pre-twilight, and the hands slipped away, and Kagome turned and Kikyou stood inches from her face with a look of tortured patience.

 

“Kikyou!”

 

“You.”

 

“Am I alive?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Am I - ”

 

Kikyou's face became blurry. Kikyou moved forward, gripping Kagome's shirt with one hand to pull her forward, clapping her other hand over the girl's mouth. Do not say `dream.'

 

“Every moment is agony, and the sacrifice I made to come here is not a thing I can speak to you about. Listen. Only listen.”

 

Kikyou's lips did not move.

 

-3-

Thought

 

Your powers are sealed. I cannot unseal them. But I can tell you how.

 

It is because you are still young. Your experiences are limited. You have innate spiritual abilities, but they are still locked within you. Your major limitations are not external; your strength is bound tight inside you and, with some assistance, may be unbound.

 

I know this because circumstances very similar happened to me once.

 

You need to understand what causes this, what allows you to purify. This is a mystery to you, I think. You were once a shrine maiden, I know. You wore the clothes, you swept the leaves, and you sold trinkets to visitors. You assisted your grandfather, a kannushi, and on certain festival days you attended him as he rang the bells to call the gods, and waved the god-papers to draw them in and out. But you were not a priestess, even though the clothes you wore mimicked mine. I was a priestess, Kagome. You are still becoming one.

 

The priestess does not exist in your time, but this does not surprise me, because even in my time we were few and fewer. Men were threatened by us. They desired our power, power only women can have, and they sought to control us. But they could not do so; only a free woman can be a priestess. It is not an issue of virginity, though that is part of it. It is a question of service and loyalty. A priestess is married to the gods and loves only the gods. The gods are jealous, Kagome, and if the priestess loves a man the gods will leave her.

 

A thousand years ago, men and women were equals. The first gods who left heaven and came here were brother and sister, and they became one, and she bore all the earthly gods. Since the very beginning men had feared and respected women, for only we could bring life. Woman is the soil; men have nothing which can compare to what we can create. That is what gives us power, Kagome. We are already gods. We create men. Men create nations and castles, they form wood and stone into crude likenesses of living things, but they are forsaken by the gods, and they cannot create life. They were deemed unfit for this power, too weak to wield it, and in their frustration they did all they could to use our power for their own. They constructed marriage, virginity, fidelity. They did all they could to make us believe that our wombs are only for growing them heirs, and the space between our legs serves no purpose but accepting a phallus. They truly believe we do not, can not, and should not feel pleasure, and they have never investigated well enough to realize there are features there which serve no purpose except to give women pleasure.

 

The priestess is among those very few women who rejected this foolishness, and kept the power given to her by the gods, and in doing so, kept their favor and their strength. She keeps the tradition of the oracles who cast bones, cured disease, and - on occasion - called upon a god whose power she desired, and took that power inside her.

 

A shrine maiden is nothing like this. You assisted some rituals, with the knowledge you'd put your hakama away and marry at some later age. A priestess cannot think this way. We are beyond these constructs. We worship the gods in ways only women can.

 

So you have reached the same point I reached when I was your age. I was seventeen, and my powers had reached a plateau. I had come of age, and in my meditations I came to realize what was happening. My revelation came to me as I was staring into a sacred fire: a priestess must be a woman, but she must not lay with a man. The flames before me slowed, and I saw, very clearly, two women embracing.

 

I was very dedicated, Kagome. I did not question my vision, for I had many like it which had improved my abilities when followed immediately. My only concern was to find a proper partner for this next stage of study, and to put forth my request in such a way that she would understand.

 

I went to Tsubaki. We had been friends when we were younger, and had meditated together at times, but to be a priestess is to be alone, and though we met on occasion to discuss our abilities, we conducted most of our studies in our respective villages. Still, because we met often, and were about the same age, our progress as priestesses remained very similar. Though I will say, without arrogance, that in the majority of our meetings I invested more time teaching her what I had learned in the interim, than she did teaching me.

 

With anyone else I would not have been so direct. Or I should say, with anyone else I would never speak this. But with Tsubaki I held no secrets. After we greeted each other, and had tea, I told her why I had come. I told her my vision and what I thought it meant.

 

“I have had the same vision,” she said to me.

 

Even now I do not know if she told the truth that day: Let it not be said that there is revelation in death. Whether or not she lied, I thought she concealed her ultimate intentions, and though I was suspicious, I knew, and she knew, there was no one else I felt safe enough to turn to.

 

“Did you come here to ask me, Kikyou?”

 

“I have no shame before you; if you feel the same way I think we can fulfill this vision we have shared, break this limitation on our advancement, and be women. Women who have come of age by the hand of another woman, as the gods have instructed us to be.”

 

Tsubaki regarded me without expression; I could not be sure if she hid sorrow or joy.

 

“Kikyou, I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I told you I had the same vision, and of course I did not hesitate to follow through with it. Since then, my limitation has been removed. I have no need to repeat the experience.”

 

Of all the absurdities, a hot knife of how could you? stabbed deep in my gut. What betrayal did I feel? That Tsubaki would advance her study in secret? Or that she had another woman she trusted more than me? Until this point I had been dedicated in purpose, but control of the situation had been wrested from me, and I was embarrassed.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” I managed to say.

 

“This was several months ago, after the last time you visited me. I would have told you today.”

 

I could not choose a single thing to say, so I said nothing.

 

“You are my oldest friend. We are sisters in our study to be priestesses, Kikyou. When I realized what must be done, I sought out another. It is dangerous to mix lovers and friends. For this reason I chose a female lover, who I trust and who I can return to if I must. For this reason, I assumed that you would do the same.”

 

“It did not occur to me to do that. I though it would be better . . . it would be stronger if it were the two of us.”

 

“Is there another, Kikyou? Someone else you can ask?”

 

“There is no one else I trust.”

 

Even dead, I have shame, but for you I shall be shameless, so that you do not make the same mistake as I did, or at very least, so that you will be prepared for the experience if you do. She told me to say things I had never said before, and do things I had never done before, and I said these words, and I did these acts.

 

The sensations she arose in me could not make up for my humiliation; the smug manner in which she eyed me over the curve of my belly chilled me. I did not stay even for the night, and the next time I saw her she sought only the jewel.

 

That was my sacrifice. The gods blessed me for this sacrifice. My powers were released.

 

-4-

Feeling

 

The prophecy began many hours after sundown, and proceeded in fits and starts. Sango wrote quickly but carefully, and she was glad for Kagome's writing utensils; with a little practice she could write with a pen at least ten times faster than she could with any ink brush she had ever handled. She wrote as best she could; some parts were paraphrased, and at one point the prophecy returned to the encounter between Kikyou and Tsubaki with substantial detail, which Sango found herself too embarrassed to transcribe completely. Later, she regretted this, as she did not know for certain whether or not the encounter must follow a set procedure, and she was not entirely sure she could remember the things Tsubaki did and in what order. Aside from this, she had little difficulty documenting the prophecy, which was her major concern.

 

When Kaede asked her to take up this obligation, Sango was not entirely certain she was the best choice. She thought it would be better for Miroku to transcribe, as he was by far a better writer. But Kaede insisted that Sango take the job; the reasoning became clear as the drug took full effect on Kagome, even before the content of Kikyou's message was established. Prior to the prophecy, she danced, and sweat, and bit by bit her clothes found their way to the floor, so that, sometime around midnight, Kagome demonstrated what Sango supposed was the modern version of the fertility dances that Sango knew from her village. The version in her village was less traditional, so this was the first time she had seen a miko dance naked.

 

It was not the same as bathing together. When they bathed together, Sango was not required to watch and study and record her impressions. But this was what Kaede asked of her, and she sat, and without words, without motion, she watched her friend use her body in ways that miko allowed only gods to see.

 

Sango had sexual thoughts. She can admit that much to herself. She was comfortable with herself and her emotions; she knew in an abstract sense that Kagome was attractive, but until now it hadn't been quite so forced upon her, and Sango went further and admitted that, though she loved Miroku, though she loved him physically, there was a place, a place she might potentially reach through some magical combination of despair, desperation, and alcohol, and in that place she would want to kiss Kagome, or touch her breasts, or give her pleasure, and in some place farther beyond that she might even want pleasure in return.

 

But this is simple acknowledgement that Kagome was attractive. Surely if Miroku, through unexpected circumstance, happened to watch Inuyasha masturbate, he too would consider possibilities. She did now know specifics of Miroku's upbringing, but as he was raised by monks, the appreciation of men as potential sexual partners was not likely to be totally alien to him.

 

But there are idle thoughts, and there are acts.

 

Sango knew the most likely thing, the easiest thing, the most rational thing, would be for Kagome to dismiss the prophecy. She would disbelieve Sango's transcription - this would be embarrassing, of course, for why would she write such a thing? - or she would regard the transcription as the ramblings of an intoxicated young girl. Which was possible; Sango would swear that it was Kikyou's voice that came from Kagome's mouth, but if Kagome spoke evenly and seriously (as she never did) her voice and Kikyou's voice would be difficult to distinguish. The simple fact was that Sango did not have the skill or training to confirm the legitimacy of a miko's prophecy.

 

But Kagome did not seem to doubt.

 

This made things more complicated.

 

Some time before daybreak Kagome finished, and she curled up in a corner of the hut and slept. Sango covered her with blankets and waited for Kaede, and when the woman took responsibility of her, Sango took a well-deserved rest until shortly after noon. Kaede read the transcript, and allowed Kagome to read it after she awoke in the late evening, and now it was dusk and Sango returned to meet privately with Kagome and discuss what it all meant.

 

“I'm glad that Kikyou did not ask me to sleep with Inuyasha,” said Kagome.

 

“Oh?” Sango suspected Kagome was still groggy; she would not be so candid when she was sober.

 

“I wouldn't be able to do it. I'm not ready for that. Not with him. Not with any man. And even if I was, I wouldn't want our first time to be for this reason. I will not use my virginity as a weapon.”

 

“It might lessen our problems with demon kidnap attempts,” noted Sango.

 

“Truly, my magic vagina is a heavy burden,” said Kagome.

 

“Have you been drinking?”

 

“A little. I couldn't get through the transcript without it. Did I really strip?”

 

“I assumed the stuff you drank made you burn up.”

 

“I'm sorry to embarrass you.”

 

“Kaede told me to be prepared for anything. So I was. If anything, I should apologize for not making you stop.”

 

“I'm glad you didn't. As bad as I feel now, I'd hate to feel this way and have nothing to show for it. Thank you for sticking through it. When I read your notes I recalled bits and pieces; I remember some of her memories as if they were my own.”

 

“So it was truly Kikyou?”

 

“I'm sure.”

 

“And you think her story is sound?”

 

“I'm sure of that too.”

 

“So what will you do?”

 

Kagome sighed.

 

“I don't know. I know I lack Kikyou's dedication. She had a vision and she followed it without hesitation. I had a vision, and my instinct is to look for another way.”

 

“It seems best to regard her advice carefully,” said Sango.

 

“What are your thoughts, Sango?”

 

Sango shrugged.

 

“My strongest feeling is only that Tsubaki was a very unpleasant person. For her to treat Kikyou like that was very cruel.”

 

“But Tsubaki had a point: something like this does terrible harm to a friendship.”

 

“Tsubaki was a bad person from the very beginning. I don't think someone like her could really extend true friendship. I don't think Kikyou can be blamed for what happened afterward.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“I would not do what Tsubaki did.”

 

Kagome blushed.

 

“No, of course not. I'd never ask you something like that.”

 

“What I mean is, I would not take advantage of your needs to embarrass you.”

 

“Sango-chan?”

 

“I'm not saying I would be with you in that way.”

 

“Of course,” said Kagome.

 

“But I'm not saying I wouldn't, either. If you asked.”

 

“Sango-chan!”

 

“It will release your power if you choose to do this, won't it? If that's what you decide, who else could you ask?”

 

“I don't know. Some villager. Someone discreet. I have no idea; I never said I'd do it at all.”

 

“You'd seek out some stranger? Not someone who knew you, or cared for you?”

 

“Sango . . . I'm not . . . do you . . . like me like that?”

 

“No. No, of course not. I just . . . if it were me, I would want it to be someone I could trust. And I trust you. But you feel differently. I'm sorry, it is your business. I have no right.”

 

“Sango-chan.”

 

Kagome gave Sango a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but pulled back before it could lead to anything else.

 

Moments passed. Sango noted the bottle of sake and, after a reassuring nod from Kagome, helped herself.

 

“Sango . . . can I ask you something? I don't know so much about your time, and your village, and I'm curious.”

“Of course.”

 

“Are you a virgin?”

 

Sango laughed.

 

“Because if you were to marry Miroku, you must be a virgin. I thought that was your way in your time here.”

 

“We are not samurai, Kagome.  We are proud, but we have our own ways.  We are taijiya, but we are villagers, what the samurai call hyakushou.  Farmers and hunters, we work the land and feed the nation with our labors.  Unlike the samurai, we do not marry for riches; my father would not have me marry another headman to make his village ours.  He would have me marry the man who he though would most make me happy.  I would produce children, not heirs.  Unlike a samurai woman, I would not need to demean myself to my mother-in-law's inspection.  If she wants to know how tight I am she will have to ask my husband after the wedding night.”

 

“I . . . don't understand.”

 

“Shortly before the wedding, someone representing the groom's family, often his mother, calls in the bride for inspection. The bride strips naked. The inspector fondles her, and at some point inserts fingers to check that the bride is intact. I should not have to tell you that this is a thing no taijiya would stand for.”

 

“Why would anyone stand for that?”

 

“I don't know. Samurai women will do whatever men tell them to, I suppose. They say it's to prove virginity, but I really think it's more about humiliation.  Because our women are so active very few of us are intact by the time we marry, and because I and my friends have known of several women who were intact on their wedding day even though they had slept with men before, we are aware that this proof is not proof at all. And more importantly, taijiya would murder the inspector.”

 

“Are most women still virgins when they marry?”

 

“In my village, most have not been with men, I think.”

“I see.”

“Though almost all of them have been with boys.”

 

“…Huh?”

 

“Occasionally there are parties where children played kissing and fondling games. Nothing serious.”

 

“Did you?”

 

“Never alone, but I've been pulled into different games.  The touching games are fun, but I don't think they count because I never climaxed when I played them.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I was too nervous, at least at first, and when I got the reputation of being hard to please it got more difficult. Boys would try harder to please me, and I would try harder to conceal what I was feeling. Still fun, but taijiya training intensifies around thirteen years old, so about that time I stopped. Many of my friends continued; a friend of mine even became pregnant by her cousin at fourteen. The others were more careful, or else luckier. But I haven't taken part in these things for about five years now. I was the headman's daughter and needed to set an example.”

 

“And Kohaku?”

 

“He never expressed much interest. Which isn't surprising; lots of boys don't attend these parties until they were twelve or so. Kohaku was eleven, and had only been masturbating for a few months, and not yet produced seed.”

 

Kagome made an unpleasant face.

 

“I suppose if I had a house as large as yours, and my own bed, I would not have known that,” said Sango.

 

“I'm sorry, I just . . .”

 

Sango waved this off. “So to answer your question: I've been with boys, to the point of nudity and touching. I've most likely broken my hymen during my taijiya studies. I don't know what it means to be a virgin.”

 

Kagome composed herself.

 

“I've never kissed a boy.”

 

Sango blinked.

 

“Or a girl,” added Kagome.

 

Sango laughed.

 

“Kissing girls is easier. Girls aren't so needy.”

 

“You kissed girls?”

 

“As I said, there were games when I was younger. I was popular enough that even a few girls wanted to play with me. I found some of them attractive, so we shared sleeping pallets sometimes. One girl climaxed while she was naked with me, and that made me very popular. But this was not unusual. If a girl was willing, she could make another girl climax almost as easily as doing it herself.”

 

“And that is . . . your skill?”

 

“I think I was just more aggressive than the others. I was young. Then, and now, I did not desire women over men.”

 

“But you are not against the idea of two women together.”

 

Sango sighed.

 

“Kagome, you are from a place where I am long-dead, and where most of the things I know have ceased to be. I can try to understand you, but I know that your mind and your attitudes are products of influences I can't imagine. I've realized your feelings on family and life are far from mine. I've begun to realize that to you, sex takes on an importance such that it is unattainable for most people at most times.”

 

“Well, yes. It's . . . there should be romance. A woman should find a man who will love her always.”

 

“What about a woman who wants to have fun with a friend? Is that not done?”

 

“Well, I suppose. But it's better to wait and only be with someone you love.”

 

“Do all women in your time feel that way, or is that only because you are a priestess?”

 

“I . . . I don't know. One of my friends in school had a crush on me - maybe she still does - and I sort of liked it. But it's different. To have someone look up to you like that . . . it's more than friendship, but it's not like I feel for …” She bit her lip. “It didn't make me feel like I did for Inuyasha.”

 

She frowned.

 

“I think in the future, you will no longer be able to come here,” said Sango. “We will defeat Naraku, and I fear that when that is over you return to your world and be unable to return. So that gives me a sense of urgency. Houshi-sama's time is not certain, and for this reason I am constantly tempted to share myself with him. Likewise, your time here is limited. I do not feel for you as I do for Houshi-sama. But I fear that there will come a time, years after you have left, that I will feel regret for things we have not done together. So that is what I feel. I care for you. If I can be of use to you, I would like to be of use to you.”

 

She stood.

 

“If your mind is not made up already, please consider this: If our situations were reversed, I do not know if I would ask you to be with me, Kagome. But I know that if I made the decision to follow Kikyou's advice, I would complete the task with you or with no one at all. That is my true feeling.”

 

-5-

Body

 

If the conversation had never taken place, if Kagome had never known about Sango's openness, their friendship would have remained, constant and solid, but also static and stagnant. But words were spoken which made it easy for strange thoughts to stay longer in Kagome's mind. She thought about the future, about love, and what she thought was love. She was so sure that she had friendship with Sango, but if she loved Sango, would Kagome know? She was sure it was not love because Sango did not make her angry, or upset, or uncomfortable, or demand things, or threaten to leave her.

 

When Sango spent time with Miroku and not her, was she jealous of the monk having Sango's company? To what extent? Would she rather be the one embracing Sango? Kissing Sango? Groping Sango?

 

The answers to these questions were of course no and no and absolutely not and you are going insane.

 

It frustrated her that Sango continued to behave as if the conversation never took place, while Kagome could think of nothing else. It took nearly a week before she could share a bath with Sango without blushing in embarrassment. That Sango seemed so unaffected made Kagome question her sanity - had she hallucinated Sango offering to sleep with her? Was that also part of the divination?

 

Was she hallucinating even now?

 

`Come back to me, here, tonight.'

 

Kagome's powers remained sealed, and the night that she finally caved, weeks after the event, it was because she didn't care. She didn't care about unsealing her powers. She only wanted to kiss a girl just for fun and Sango was the only person she felt safe with.

 

`A beauty desired.'

 

Weeks of denial brought her to this point, this inn in the mountains west of the Tama River. One week ago, or 450 years later, she would be in this same spot, except she would cross the river by walking over the Chuo Expressway bridge, instead of paying a boatman to take them across. They had eaten together and retired to sex-segregated rooms of an inn perched on the mountain. One end of the room opened outward to the river, which brought them cool air. Sango's white shitagi was loose on her sweaty shoulders.

 

`Even your garment plunders my eyes.'

 

Kagome kicked off her pajama bottoms and let the river breeze touch her thighs.

 

In my world this spot is a convenience store parking lot and this woman is four hundred years dead.

 

The quarter-moon illuminated the room enough to see that Sango was asleep on her futon. If Kagome wanted more light, she was lucky enough to be in possession of the only source of non-combusting light in the world: a small pen light in her backpack. From camping so often, she could tell by the moon's position that it was approximately one hour before midnight. Kagome was also the only person in the world with a tiny and perfect time-telling device: a digital watch, also in her backpack. Months ago, when she noticed that the sun was directly overhead, she took out this watch and set it to noon exactly.

 

But she did not want light, and she did not want time. She did not know what she wanted, but she believed that she could get closer to what she wanted by sitting up and leaning toward the sleeping girl beside her.

 

There was nothing wrong with this. Sango was as ancient as the Buddha statues at the Kamakura History Museum, and it was not wrong to stare and study. The strangeness of a centuries-old wooden statue supported by a web of polyester fibers, encased in bulletproof polycarbonate panels, sharing its home with a lunchbox-sized dehumidifier with blinking lights, and all this being nicely labeled with placards in Japanese and Chinese and English - this strangeness was the same in Sango, who was born around the year 1535 and smelled of 20th Century shampoo and body wash and moisturizing lotion and whatever else Kagome could convince her to try.

 

`Amongst all mortal women the one…'

 

Sango was less comfortable with wearing modern clothes; to her the revolutionary fabric of the times was Japanese-grown cotton, which did not exist in her mother's time. This made up the shitagi she wore now, which was the only thing she slept in: she had tried, and kindly refused, such modern conveniences as cotton/poly pajamas, nightshirts, running shorts, cotton underwear, sports bras, and whatever other items Kagome purchased to bring to the sengoku jidai only to return them later. Sango parted with the sports bra reluctantly, explaining that she much liked it, but it would eventually suffer wear, and when it did she would have no way to repair it. She would rather not get used to an item of clothing that must be discarded and could never be replaced.

 

`…I most wish to see.'

 

So when Kagome sat beside Sango it seemed more intimate. She could pull at the string at Sango's right hip, and pull the flap across her body, and she would not be in her underwear. She would be naked.

 

But I would never want to do that!

 

Kagome balled her fists on her bare knees. Sango would not forgive her for these thoughts. She started to scoot back to her futon.

 

“Kagome-chan.”

 

It was not quite a whisper, but a soft exhale, so that Kagome did not know for sure if she imagined her name spoken until she saw Sango open one eye.

 

“There was a game,” Sango said.

 

“Sango-chan?”

 

“In my village. There was a game that we played. The Shy Game. Or The Sleeping Game. One person is asleep. One person is awake. What does the awake person do?”

 

“Sango-chan, I'm sorry, I don't mean to take advantage.”

 

“What does the awake person do, Kagome-chan?”

 

She goes back to bed, Sango-chan.

 

She is not a pervert, Sango-chan.

 

She likes boys, Sango-chan.

 

“She . . .” Kagome's mouth was dry. “Is the sleeping girl comfortable?”

 

Sango closed her eyes. “She is uncomfortably warm.”

 

“Then . . . the awake girl wants to make her cool.”

 

Kagome's hand moved toward the tie at Sango's hip, then moved away and picked up a fan. She quietly fanned Sango's face and neck.

 

“Is it . . . better?”

 

“I can't say, for I am asleep,” said Sango. Saying so, she snatched Kagome's right arm, shook her wrist to dislodge the fan, slid her hand into her shitagi, and squeezed to curl Kagome's fingers over her left breast.

 

“Is my skin still warm?” asked Sango.

 

Kagome's stomach leapt up to her neck and dropped down again. She needed no additional prompting to untie the shitagi and pull the material away to pool at either side of the taijiya.

 

They had bathed together, but never had Sango been so exposed, and never had she asked for Kagome's touch. Her fingers traced Sango's shoulders, her breasts, her ribs and belly. Suddenly, this was not enough, and she crawled on top of Sango and she kissed Sango on the mouth. Sango returned the kiss, and wrapped her arms around Kagome's back, and quickly the kisses became deeper, their mouths opened wider, each tongue ventured closer toward the other's mouth, and met, and curled around each other, and then Sango rolled over Kagome and, breaking the kiss only for a moment, hooked her thumbs under the hem of her shirt and drew it over Kagome's head.

 

This was madness, pure madness, and Kagome drowned in sensation, and Sango's mouth sucked hard on her breast, and Sango's hand stroked her inner thigh, and brushed against her underwear, and why am I so wet, and she felt the elastic waistband suddenly at the underside of her buttocks, and on her thighs, and her knees, and her ankles, and when it was gone Sango's hands were firm on her thighs, and her breath was ticklish on her pubic hair, and Sango's lips were warm on her vulva, and when Sango used her tongue to part Kagome's labia, and ran that tongue up to her clitoris, and then drew the flesh into her mouth and rolled it between her lips, Kagome found her body no longer responded to her will, and only through incredible concentration was she able to grip an item of clothing - her pajama bottoms - and clasp it to her mouth to muffle the sound of her climax.

 

What followed were little more than scattered memories, bits of sensation, sounds and images, flesh against flesh, the taste of things Kagome never thought she would touch with her tongue, her friend's breath on her ear, and all this floating in an ocean of warmth and comfort and inexorable satisfaction. Waves had swept away fear and indecision. Every bit of her skin tingled.

 

She did not worry about Inuyasha or Miroku-sama, and she did not fear that now she wanted to be with Sango forever. She did not concern herself with her miko powers being released. These things would be problems after. This was now, and now stretched on forever in all directions. Each time Kagome wished it, the moon moved backward in the sky, and it was midnight again. Each time she brushed Sango's face, the girl awoke and gave Kagome pleasure, or received Kagome's pleasure with prodigious gratitude. Time was no longer a series of moments; it was this moment, and this moment forever.

 

Kagome had regained her powers, and she expended them all in this moment, in an orgasmic cry, to stop time, to pin the stars to velvet sky, to stop the Earth, to freeze the moon, and so long as she held strength Kagome would not relent.

 

Kikyou could not judge her too harshly.

 

Body is emptiness

And emptiness is Body

The same is true for

Feeling, Thought, Will

And Consciousness

They are simply emptiness

And emptiness is simply them

-Heart Sutra

 

Show me how you do it

And I promise you

I promise that I'll run away with you

- The Cure

 

END