InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Limerance ❯ Into the Light ( Chapter 3 )

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Limerance

Chapter 2 - Into the Light

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He would never forget that day.

The silence was deafening.

The atmosphere reminded him of what the air might feel like after a tremendous explosion.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps he had anticipated a look of pain - or was it horror? At the very least, he had expected the child to scream. It was in human nature to express their weakness through sound. He'd heard it often enough. Yet, this thing that was supposed to be human had yet to do something he expected.

He didn't smell any blood. Odd, for the arrow had definitely hit its mark. But, her face had not changed. She still looked at him with anger - protectiveness - as though she could sense the bloodlust in his mind. Experimentally, he let his aura flare out, sending out an intent to kill that only another demon could have felt. To his supreme amusement, her eyes ignited with an even stronger fire.  

“It's just a child! Atsuo, have you lost your mind?!” There was a commotion from the building straight ahead. “You've shot a child!” He did not tear his gaze away from hers. There was no need. He did not need to see the humans to know their movements - vision was not a demon's primary sense. Instead, he focused on the girl. There was a high-pitched whistling. The arrow that was supposed to have killed her cried out in agony as a ferocious flame splintered and devoured it from inside. The ashes fell to the ground and were carried off by the wind.

So, you are not human after all, he thought.

“That is no child! It is a demon! A demon!” The man who had attacked was already preparing to shoot another arrow. Sesshoumaru debated letting him hit her again. Would she die this time? Or would the arrow burn up as it had before? The bow groaned as the man pulled it back, but just as he let go of the arrow the other man pushed him aside, sending the projectile flying off in a vague direction.

“Get a hold of yourself!”

Still she did not break their self-declared staring contest. Wasn't she frightened in the least? He took an experimental step forward, calling forth acidic miasma to his claws. Again, she narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips.

“Sesshoumaru…” she said with perfect clarity, her whisper so quiet he wondered if he'd imagined her saying anything at all.

“She broke the stone, Gaku! She broke it!” The tussle between the two humans came to an abrupt halt. He turned to look at them. “She must die!”

“But she's just a child…”

“Do not be fooled!” came a booming voice from the doorway behind the two men. Both humans suddenly dropped to their knees. There was the sound of gentle bells as a woman stepped into the light. She had long, flowing hair that was expertly arranged around a gleaming, golden comb. Her headdress was made of silver, displaying various symbols of what Sesshoumaru assumed to be the deities she worshipped. It flared out in a semi-circle - like a halo - and was tipped with a set of thin, dangling figures that jingled as they swayed with her movements. On her body, she wore robes of the finest silk - red, white, and purple.

Expensive dyes, he thought. Not something a mere priestess could afford to prance around in.

 He was still digging through his memories, trying to rationalize the fact that he hadn't noticed this place in his past travels when it was so obviously important.

And that stone - it pulsed with tremendous power.      

Despite the beauty and lavishness of her attire, the woman was everything but. She wasn't old enough to have her stature shortened by a back broken with years of age, but her face was carved with lines that told of trials passed and failed. There was an unfamiliar wisdom in her eyes, the sort of thing he saw in demons that were just beginning to truly feel the passage of time. It was the kind of wisdom that was branded there by the cruel hand of reality - the realization that the world moved on but mortality and change were out of reach.

An aging demon's eyes in the face of a priestess. Without knowing why, he felt unsettled.

“That is no child, and that,” she said with a grimace of distaste as her eyes settled on him, “is most definitely a demon.” With mild amusement, Sesshoumaru watched as she shifted her heavy priestess' garbs to reveal a beautifully carved bow. “Be gone from this place abomination or I will purify you where you stand!” With supreme grace, she notched an arrow and pointed it straight at his heart. Briefly, he wondered if she would truly dare to shoot him. Surely as a priestess she could sense that his level of power was significantly higher than some common monster that would listen to such ridiculous demands. He kept his silence, suddenly very interested in watching how this would all play out. He decided that the split second that she chose to let go of that arrow, she would be ripped to shreds by his claws. A small thrill went through him at the prospect of such an opportunity. He was in a sour mood of late. Perhaps shedding some blood would improve his disposition.

“No!” Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, he watched as the not-so-human child lowered her arms and ran to stand in front of him. She faced the priestess with the same determined expression she had sent his way just moments prior. The priestess seemed to hesitate; the tip of her arrow lowered a little.

“Move aside, or you will die with him,” she said in a calm voice that bellied doubt and uncertainty. He knew why, of course. It was her eyes - the eyes of a child that was not a child. If they could give him pause, then humans would surely be no exception. Heavy footsteps resounded in the courtyard as at least twenty more men ran over to stand next to the priestess. They all wore the same clothing - the robes of monks. In unison, they pulled back their bows in preparation of attack.

“Leave now or die!” Still, he remained silent.

With a frown, the priestess raised her bow back towards his chest and shouted, “Fire!”

Time slowed to nearly a stop. There was no chance that any of those arrows could come even close to matching his speed. He prepared to jump out of the way, but before he could he was blinded by a flash of light so bright that it nearly disoriented him. He felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, as though something was going through his very core. Briefly stunned, he shielded his eyes with his arm. The sounds of bells momentarily filled the air, then the wind picked up and there was the deafening roar that signaled a complete absence of sound.

Slowly, the light died down. His sight returned, and he looked on with some surprise to see that all of the humans had been knocked back. Their weapons were shattered. The arrows they had shot were strewn about on the ground, burned almost beyond recognition. The only one standing was the priestess, who looked pale as death. There was an expression of horror on her face, as though she'd just seen her inevitable death approaching. Without conscious intent to do so, he found himself seeking out the child. He looked at the place where she had been standing, only to find nothing but charred earth and tatters of cloth that he recognized to be her clothing.

Suddenly, he realized that her presence - just like the Jewel of Four Souls - had been a tangible thing to him. Though he hadn't realized it before, he had always been able to feel her there. Even when he left her far behind, in the back of his mind he knew she would return. Now, however, there was no such feeling.

There was no presence.

There was no certainty.

There were no blue eyes and no voice to call his name.

There was only the horrified look on the old woman's face and a feeling that he could not name.

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Sesshoumaru opened his eyes to see the rising of the sun.

Nearly three years had passed since the incident with the stone at the mysterious temple, and still he dreamed of it. It was unacceptable to dwell on these memories. Yet, no matter how much he told himself not to think of that day, the dreams came all the same. He struggled to forget the look of horror on the priestess' face and the emptiness he felt after he realized that the child had vanished. And, just as he fought to forget these things, he also struggled to find the reason for his inability to do so.

Many times, he had returned to that place, only to find that the temple had been abandoned. The structure had collapsed in a storm and was now nothing but a pile of rubble. There was no sign that anyone had been there for centuries. It was hard to believe that it had been filled with people only years prior. The stone remained a hollow, broken shell. No longer was there a throb of energy around it. All in all, the place looked like any other abandoned shrine, and no matter how many times he returned to try and find answers, there was nothing to be found.

He shook his head.

The whole incident was a mess that he did not want to deal with, especially now. So, as he always did, he forced all thoughts of the past to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

Over the past several years, a conflict between warlords had - once again - slowly matured into a full-blown war. Humans were, as a species, prone to such things. It seemed that their desire for power and influence was an obsession that drove them to kill each other over and over again. It was surprising that there were still enough of them alive to continue the cycle.

As the reigning Daiyoukai of the Western Lands, his responsibilities included the suppression of massive conflicts that would tear his lands apart. Although there were plenty of incidents like this related to territorial disputes among his kind, it was humans who wreaked the most havoc. It was these mortals that were still under the illusion that they were truly in control. In reality, it was the four Daiyoukai who truly ruled the lands and could twist and turn the fate of them in any direction of their choosing. Typically, human wars were allowed to occur. The negative energy, blood, and suffering they created were the perfect atmosphere for demons to secure footholds within society. Suffering, after all, strengthened demons and kept the human population under control.

Some wars, however, were too great to be allowed to pass. One such war had occurred around the time of his father's death. A pointless dispute over an heir to the Shogunate had accelerated into a series of battles and massacres that had devastated the land for nearly eleven years. The humans called it the Onin War. Sesshoumaru still preferred to call it carelessness. Had his father not been distracted from his responsibilities, such a thing may not have come to pass. It was this war that had given many demons the courage to begin their own small conflicts and to rise up against the Daiyoukai for the first time in centuries.

We are still paying for this in blood and unrest, he mused. In fact, he could almost see a direct line between the events of the past and those of the present. The current war was - as before - over the legitimacy of an heir to a powerful house. At least, that was what the humans were made to believe. This time, however, the humans were not alone in their fight. Tribes of youkai that had before remained silent and fearful under the iron rule of the Daiyoukai were now boldly forging alliances with the humans to fight against the four rulers under the pretense of aiding the humans in their own goals. As a result, the battles were more devastating and the damage to the lands and people much more critical than before.

He had been traveling for nearly three days to reach the location of the most recent battle. As the location came into sight, he saw right away that things were indeed as dire as he'd predicted. The lands before him were scorched bare. Where there was previously a flourishing farming community, there was now nothing but ash and blood. He walked through what he supposed had been the center of a trading village. There were merchant caravans tipped over, their goods spilling forth like the innards of a felled beast. Nothing had been taken. That alone was a sign that the ones responsible for this destruction had been demons. Demons did not loot and pillage - their reward was power and the pleasure of the kill.

As he continued to slowly make his way between burned down huts and charred crops, he was careful to avoid stepping on any bodies. Men, women, children -they were all there. Some had died fighting, others had simply been cut down where they stood. Their expressions were ones of frozen fear, rigor mortis having permanently carved the powerful emotion onto their faces. Some fires were still burning, the flames feasting on carnage long after the end of the battle. There were no survivors. Flies and ravens were the only inhabitants of this place now. The cries of the feasting birds were shrill and angry. He watched a group of them fighting over a piece of meat and turned aside in disgust. He did not want to be here, surrounded by filth and desolation. This place was rank with human stench, worse in death than it was in life. He had to stay, however. He had to know what happened and who was to be held responsible.

He had his suspicions. For a long time now, he theorized that the Neko Tribe was behind some of the upheavals in his lands. There was no concrete evidence. They attacked in the night and left no trace of their presence by morning other than a trail of bodies that lead nowhere. His councilors believed that his opinion was influenced by his hatred for the tribe. His father had waged a long and trying war with them, after all. But Sesshoumaru argued that this was not the case. Although no one had seen the tribe for nearly 20 years, he knew that they waited for the right moment to strike. It was a gut feeling - an instinct. When instinct called, there was no ignoring it.

Something reflected the light of the sun and caught his attention. As he moved closer, he saw that it was the metallic eyes of a child's doll that had caused the brief flash. He turned slightly. There was a child lying not too far from where the toy had been dropped - a girl. He could not see her face, as she was lying on her side. Her hair was tangled and matted with blood, her skin covered in scratches and soot. Normally, he wouldn't have spared her a second glance, but there was something almost familiar about her. Curious, he looked closer. It was something about the color of her hair - it was black, but reflected a blue sheen in the light. The color of a raven's wing.

Sesshoumaru…

The voice floated to him on the wind. A sudden cold gripped his chest. It was only thanks to centuries of self-control that he stopped himself from frantically reaching down and turning the body over. He, Sesshoumaru, was never frantic - he was never irrational. Stomping down the initial shiver of dread that slipped down his spine, he gingerly placed his foot under the body and turned it over.

Sesshoumaru…

The child's hair still covered her eyes, but he saw a pair of familiar, pink lips. Three years had gone by, and he still remembered her face as though she was chiseled in his memory. He would have recognized those lips anywhere. And that voice - it spoke to him from the darkest corners of his recollections. Slowly, he unsheathed Tokijin and pressed the blade to the child's cheek. In a swift motion, he flipped the ruined, black hair aside to reveal her eyes.

It's not her…

The feeling that came next was completely unexpected and nearly overwhelming.

Relief.

It was just another human child.

What is it that I was expecting? That she would suddenly reappear after all this time? He frowned. Ridiculous…

Sheathing his sword, he stepped away from the body and continued his passage through the village. The relief stayed with him. It was as though all of his senses had been alerted all at once. Adrenaline still rushed through his system. His hand was gripping the hilt of his sword with enough force to whiten his knuckles. He berated himself severely for his unacceptable behavior. The thing was dead. It had died all those years ago. Good riddance. There was no room in his life for a distraction, and he would be damned if he repeated his father's mistakes.

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“Look there, Shin - another one,” a young man said as he spotted a plume of smoke in the distance.

“Do you think we're too late?” said another man behind him.

“We're always too late, Ryo.” In response to these words, the group of young men lowered their heads. The one called Shin was the leader of this group. There were fifteen of them, all dressed in the same colors of black and white. Across their backs, they carried satchels, bows, and quivers full of arrows while on their waists they carried swords. To an outsider, they looked like priests or monks traveling the road, but they were far from such. They were not samurai, ronin, or even simple farmers. In their minds, they had no place.  

“Don't say that Shin. Sometimes we find survivors,” Ryo argued. The man who had pointed out the plume clenched his fists.

“Damn this war. I don't understand it - any of it. What's the point?” His voice was full of anger and frustration. The group paused and Shin put a hand on his shoulder.

“Takahiro, we knew what we would face when we agreed to do this. We knew, and that's why we came. Don't forget why we're here.” When he saw that the man was too angry to reply, he signaled for the group to follow and set off again. It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. By the time they did, the smoke had died down and nearly disappeared. As they took in the scene before them, anguish filled their eyes. Some put their hands on each other for support, while others trembled with a barely suppressed fury.

“They're just farmers…what did they do to deserve this?”

“It is not our place to judge, Takahiro,” Shin said calmly. “Now, everyone, split up and search for anyone who may still be alive. Let's do what we came here to do.” Without waiting to see if the group would carry out his orders, he moved forward and began his own search. Takahiro's friend, Ryo, tapped his shoulder. He shrugged him off.

 “My mother and sister lived in a village just like this,” Takahiro said quietly. Ryo frowned. When he had met Takahiro nearly two years ago, he had been just another survivor in a growing rash of conflict that was spreading across the land. His family had been slaughtered by a band of demons carrying the banner of the current daimyo. It was around that time that the two prominent factions who were at war over the lands were seeking alliances with the demons of the area. Destroyed villages like the one Takahiro was from were becoming a common sight. It was only the opportunity for assisting others like him that Takahiro had joined their cause - the cause to walk the land and help those who suffered most from the growing war.  

“I thought I saw something moving over there. Let's go see what it was,” Ryo offered, trying to pull his friend's thoughts away from their destructive path. He pulled on his sleeve and walked forward. Takahiro watched him go and squared his shoulders, trying to reign in his emotions and concentrate.

They picked their way through fallen wood and overturned crates and barrels until they stood in front of a small house. It stood apart from the other huts and probably belonged to someone important. Only rich merchants and traders could afford to build homes out of such fine wood in small villages. As they approached, they heard a thudding coming from inside. Hope leapt into Takahiro's chest and he jumped forward.

“Hello? Is someone there?” he shouted. “Don't be afraid! We're here to help you.”

“Wait!” Ryo shouted. “It could be dangerous!”

Ignoring him, he rushed to pull open the sliding door and screamed when something black sprang forth and knocked him backwards. He had been caught completely off guard. Rolling to his feet, he quickly drew his sword and prepared to fight for his life, only to hear his friend chuckling behind him.

“Careful Taka - I hear ravens bite.” Still disoriented from the sudden scare, he looked wildly around for his attacker. When he looked up, he saw a raven flying away, cawing indignantly at having been so rudely awakened from its slumber. Slowly, he took a deep, steadying breath and waited until he could no longer hear his heart pounding to round on his partner.

“I don't want to hear that from you, Ryo. Not when you nearly gave away our position that one time because you saw a spider on your shoulder.” Still laughing, Ryo waved him off.

“That won't work with me, Taka. I don't have a pride for you to insult with such petty reminders.” Takahiro sighed and sheathed his sword. Ignoring Ryo's statement, he turned around and finished pulling open the door - this time with more caution. What he saw made his eyes widen. There was a woman on the floor, her clothes in tatters. She was bleeding from a deep wound in her stomach, but she was still alive. Both men rushed to her side and knelt beside her. She was clutching a small bundle to her body. Neither of them had to guess what it was.

“My daughters…my daughters…” she croaked.

“We're here to help you,” Ryo said dumbly, taken back by the suffering and sadness he saw in her eyes. Though he'd seen plenty of injured and dying people in his time, this woman's obvious pain was almost tangible. Unable to meet her gaze, he looked away, feeling like the worst of cowards.

“My daughters…please…help them…”

“I'm going to get Shin. Stay with her Taka.” Without waiting for his response, Ryo flew out the door. His friend cursed. Left alone with her, Takahiro felt bile rising in his throat. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? He reached into his satchel and pulled out strips of linen, feverishly pressing them to her wound. Even as he did, he knew that it was too late. The blood continued to seep through the cloth and between his fingers.

“My daughters…”

“It's alright…he's gone to get help. We'll help you…we'll help you…damn it, why won't this stop?” Red filled his vision as the blood bloomed over the linen, covered his hands, and started to stain the floor beneath the woman's body. Suddenly, she grabbed his arm. Even through his sleeves, he could feel how cold her hand was.

“Take my baby…save my baby…” she pushed the bundle in her arms towards him.  

Damn you Ryo, where are you?

“But, your baby is…” he stopped at the desperation on her face. Her eyes were haunted. In a flash, he remembered his mother's face as she lay dying on the ground. Just like this woman, she had died to protect her child. His hands shook. Slowly nodding, he took the dead child into his arms, helpless to refuse her. “I will…” he found himself saying.

“My second…she ran outside…she lost her doll…” Her hand went limp and dropped to the ground with a sound that seemed to echo all around him. “Thank you,” she said as she breathed her last.  

“Please hold on. We're going to help you…” Takahiro pleaded. But it was too late, her eyes were already fogging over, her body visibly stiffening. Just at that moment, Shin and Ryo jumped into the doorway.

“Where is she?” they asked almost in unison.

“Dead,” Takahiro replied tonelessly. “She's dead.”

A beat.

“Taka,” Ryo whispered, “there was nothing we could have done.” He walked towards his friend and squeezed his shoulder. “I know what this means to you, but there was nothing we could have done. Her wounds were too great.”

“She wanted me to keep her child safe,” the boy mumbled in response. “But it's already…” he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. “It's already…”

A sudden wail knifed through the heavy atmosphere in the room. All three men jumped. An animal? No, the sound did not resemble a beast. It was a child's cry. And it had come from Takahiro's arms. Shin ran over to the two men, his eyes confused.

“It's alive!” Ryo shouted. “By the Gods, it's alive!”

Not daring to believe it, Takahiro moved aside the thick swaddling to see a pair of huge, brown eyes. The baby's cheeks were covered in ash, but even that could not hide their rosy hue. When she saw the three men looking down at her, her eyes filled with tears and she wailed again, this time crying with all her strength.

“It's a miracle,” Takahiro whispered.

“We should take her to the priestess,” Shin said.

“Are there no others?” Takahiro asked. Sadly, the leader shook his head.

“No. Now let's go before that crying attracts any unwanted attention.”

“I want to bury the mother.”

“There's no time for that, Takahiro. The sun is nearly setting and the night brings demons.” He knew that very well, but he still felt guilty as they left the house and regrouped, preparing to set off for home. They had made a large circle around the land. It had taken them nearly three weeks to travel from village to village. This was the second scene of destruction that they'd run into, but the only one with any survivors. As much as they would have wanted to press on, their supplies were running low and it was time to return home before setting off again.

Thoughts of home swirled in his mind as Takahiro walked with the child in his arms. She had stopped crying now and was sucking her thumb. At home, she would be taken care of. There were plenty of women who would take her in - women who had lost children just like her in this senseless war. Then there was the priestess, who would bless the child. At the thought of her, his cheeks turned a little red.

The beautiful and kind priestess Midori was the center of all their deeds. She was the one who had gathered them together for a common cause all those years ago, and she was the one that continued to lead them towards a brighter future. There were rumors that she was a vessel for the soul of a Goddess. From the first moment that he'd laid eyes on her, he had been convinced that this rumor was true.    

“You should name her, Taka,” Ryo chuckled as he elbowed him in the side and startling him out of his reverie. Takahiro glared.

“That's not a man's job,” he protested.

“Still, you saved her. I think you should name her.”

“She's not an animal or a pet, Ryo. I can't just give her a random name.”

“Then don't make it random. Make it thoughtful.” As if understanding that she was the subject of the conversation, the child opened her eyes and made a gurgling sound. Ryo tickled her under her chin and she giggled. Despite his claimed reluctance, a small smile tugged at the corner of Takahiro's lips.

“What should I call her, then?”

“Something not at all random,” Ryo offered jokingly. This time, Takahiro chuckled. Brushing some strands of soft, black hair away from the child's face, he nodded. The name was already there, on the tip of his tongue. It was a name he said in his heart all too often after the death of his family. That day, he had not been there. He had been out by the river, slacking off instead of tending to the fields as he was supposed to. When he returned home, he found everything in ruins. Demons had raided his village. By the time he made it to his home, his sister was already dead, and his mother was only a few breaths from joining her. Since then, he had blamed himself for living - for not being there for them.

Now, with this child, perhaps he could make up for that.  

“Rin,” he said suddenly. “I'll name her after my little sister.”