InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Incorrigible ❯ Namesake ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this short bit of speculation… especially for the monk who probably has an absolutely lovely singing voice. A nod of recognition is bent towards Rumiko Takahashi for her creative prowess.

This oneshot was originally posted to Live Journal on April 7, 2007.

oOo

Namesake

Miroku sat at the base of a tree, looking on as Kagome led a group of village children in song. Eight barefooted scamps were fanned out in front of her, faces eager as they repeated each phrase after the miko. She tried to keep tempo by directing them with her finger, singing with exaggerated slowness. Her little chorus members were quick learners, happily lisping the words back to Kagome line by line. The monk chuckled, for what the little crew lacked in tunefulness, they made up for with enthusiasm.

Kagome had offered to help Kaede entertain the lively bunch for the day while their parents and older siblings were busy with the spring planting, and it was obvious to Miroku that she knew a thing or two about keeping little ones out of mischief. Her charges had been trailing after her like a row of chicks since just after daybreak, completely captivated by Kagome's carefree manner. She certainly has a knack for breaking down barriers. She's not any more bothered byage differences than she isby social, cultural, or racial ones. To Kagome, we're all just friends.

The song she was teaching them now was actually called “Kagome, Kagome,” which Miroku found an amusing coincidence. Apparently this simple melody was an integral part to a game from Kagome's time, and Miroku was most curious to see what would come next. It cannot be too complex, surely, if she's able to teach it to children so small.

Finally satisfied with the children's grasp of the song, Kagome motioned for them all to join hands, forming a ring. She tapped Shippo, his fiery hair a striking contrast to the dark heads around him, to take up a position in the center. “You're playing the part of the oni, Shippo-kun. Close your eyes and try to keep track of where we stand by our voices, okay?”

The kit flashed a cheeky grin and placed his hands over his eyes. Catching up the hands of the children on either side, Kagome led them in a slow march around Shippo. Once they'd gotten a feel for the footwork, she nodded, signaling them to begin their song.

Kagome, Kagome, the bird in the cage,

When will you come out?

In the evening of the dawn,

The crane and turtle slipped,

Who stands right behind you now?

Miroku couldn't make heads or tails of what the lyrics were talking about, but the nonsense seemed to appeal to the youngsters, judging by their bright eyes and wide smiles.Perhaps they are allusions to something in her time? I'll have to ask her about it. As the song drew to a close, Kagome brought the circling group to a stumbling halt. She held up a finger to her lips, urging the children to be silent. They mostly succeeded, despite some shuffling and tittering.

“Now you have to tell us who you think is standing behind you, Shippo-kun,” Kagome directed in a whisper.

“Is it… Keiko-chan?” asked the kitsune, tail twitching with unabashed excitement.

“Yes,” chortled the young girl who'd been left standing directly behind Shippo, as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands in delight at being `caught' by the oni. Keiko took her place in the center of the ring, and the game began again. The tune was simple, even catchy, and Miroku found himself humming along as the game continued. Once a few more children had been given the chance to be it, Kagome joined the hands of the two children she'd been between and stepped back, excusing herself while encouraging the group to continue. “Now you all try it together,” she urged, helping them to begin the tune again, “Kagome, Kagome…”

Kagome moved to join Miroku in the shade, flopping wearily down onto the grass beside him and leaning back against the tree. “That should keep them busy for a while,” she said with an air of satisfaction. “I loved this game when I was their age.”

“The song shares your name, Kagome-sama,” observed Miroku, giving a questioning lift to one brow.

“Yes. I was actually named after it,” the young woman confided with a touch of pride. “Mama was always singing it to me when I was little. It must have been her favorite too.”

With an eye on the singing children, Miroku chuckled. “Well, as `Kagome, Kagome' seems to inspire much happiness, I would say your name suits you well.”

A quick roll of the eyes was the only acknowledgment the monk's flattery received before Kagome went on. “I've always rather liked my name,” admitted the young woman. “There wasn't anyone else named Kagome in my school, so I always felt rather special.”

Miroku nodded his understanding, then inquired politely, “So tell me, Kagome-sama… what does it mean?”

“Kagome? It's actually a kind of woven basket made out of bamboo,” she replied with a shrug.

“Ah, that is interesting,” commented the monk before clarifying. “I'm actually wondering about the song. What do the words mean?”

“Oh! You mean all the stuff about birds and cranes and turtles? I haven't got a clue,” the miko admitted. “There are different theories, but since it's such an old tradition, no one remembers the meaning behind the words. The story behind the song has been lost to time.”

“I see,” Miroku murmured thoughtfully, eyes drawn once again to the circling children, who were giggling and jostling in an effort to avoid being caught behind the oni.

After a few moments quiet contemplation, the monk gave a small start, then turned to face Kagome with a sly smile. “Do you know, I think there's a simple explanation, Kagome-sama.”

“Really?” Kagome asked, surprised.

“Perhaps you learned the song from them,” Miroku suggested, nodding to the children.

“What do you mean, Miroku-sama? I'm the one who just taught them how to play `Kagome, Kagome.' You saw me.”

“Mm-hmm,” agreed the monk easily, “and they're enjoying themselves quite a bit. I'm willing to bet they'll keep playing this game all through the summer. They'll sing that song and teach it to more of the children in the village, and once they're grown, they'll teach this game to their own children, and then to their grandchildren.”

Kagome sat up a little straighter, leaning towards Miroku, “Do you mean to say…”

Ignoring the wide-eyed young woman, Miroku went on in a dreamy voice, “The children's game `Kagome, Kagome' will be passed down through their families, one generation to the next. Over the centuries, it'll be one of the first games every child is taught, as commonplace to childhood as hide-and-seek and follow-the-leader.”

Kagome gaped at the monk, flabbergasted.

“And to think, I was here to witness the origins of the very song for which you were named. I must say, this has been an unexpected privilege, Kagome-sama,” concluded Miroku smugly.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kagome stammered, waving both hands in the air. “Are you suggesting that the reason no one knows what `Kagome, Kagome' means is because I don't know what it means?”

“Exactly!” exulted the monk. “It never had any real meaning to start with.”

“So if you're right,” Kagome went on, thinking hard, “then the only reason I learned the children's game I was named for was because I brought it back with me and taught it to these guys?” The miko was incredulous.

“I suppose you could say that the origins of the song were lost to time because you were too.”

Kagome turned a slightly dazed look on the children at play, “Huh. Well, I suppose there are worse things I could have brought back than a nursery rhyme that makes no sense.”

Miroku grinned, “You did say your name made you feel special. I should think it doubly unique now, knowing the namesake is ultimately behind the naming.”

“My whole life is a twist of fate,” muttered Kagome grumpily.

“Kagome, Kagome,” called the monk teasingly as he waited for the miko to give him her attention. “Your very presence in this time is a perplexing impossibility, and yet here you are. This children's song may be a small thing, but it something that has brought a great deal of happiness.” Miroku nodded meaningfully towards the romping youngsters. “What's more, we know that your seemingly small influence has left a lasting impression—one that touches your life in a very personal way.”

“It's just a silly song, Miroku-sama,” protested Kagome.

“You're not looking at this in the right way,” rebuked Miroku gently.

“I don't understand.”

“Let it give you hope, Kagome-sama,” urged the monk. “What you do may not seem like much at the time, but it can have lasting consequences. Most people will never see the outcomes of their efforts, yet you have been given the chance to experience those results firsthand. You've made a difference while you have been here, and your very name is proof of that fact.”

“This should give me hope?” Kagome ventured, still a little uncertain.

Miroku nodded, “I take heart from it. Perhaps it bodes well for the tasks that remain to us?”

“Do you really think so? It doesn't seem like much to hang onto,” Kagome sighed, eyes back on her frolicking charges.

“Indeed. In fact, I shall hold onto the hope that my own children will play `Kagome, Kagome' one day.”

“Will you teach them yourself?” Kagome teased, nudging him with a friendly elbow.

“Perhaps I can convince the game's namesake to do it for me,” suggested Miroku with a gleam that meant trouble.

“Oh, no, Miroku-sama” Kagome stood, sidetracking the monk by holding out her hand to him. “Come on. If you're actually going to let my nonsense song carry that much significance, then I think you need to experience it firsthand!”

Miroku rose, but pulled back, dragging his feet a bit, “I must protest, Kagome-sama…”

The young woman just laughed and tugged him towards the children, “Come on, Miroku-sama, you'll make a fine oni.”

“This hardly falls within the duties required of me…” he tried again, though he allowed himself to be led.

“Nonsense, your presence is absolutely necessary. Your services have never been in greater need; you must help secure my name for me,” Kagome demanded sweetly.

“I don't suppose it will help my cause to point out that your name has already been secured since you bear it now, Kagome-sama?”

“Nope,” grinned the miko. So a passable baritone was added to the chorus of children's voices as they filled the meadow with laughter and song.

Kagome, Kagome, the bird in the cage,

When will you come out?

In the evening of the dawn,

The crane and turtle slipped,

Who stands right behind you now?

oOo

End Notes: In case you didn't know, an oni is a sort of monster in Japanese legend, comparable to a goblin or troll, I suppose. This oneshot was written in response to the Live Journal community iyfic contest for Week 92—Song Theme. 1,778 words.