InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Metamorphosis 2: Legacies ❯ The Shrine ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"I don't sense anything," Jirou remarked with a thoughtful frown, hanyou ears flicking as he strained to hear, to smell, any youkai in the vicinity as Marisaiko and he stared at the humble Inari shrine situated at the bottom of the hill, mostly for weary travelers who wished to stop along the way and for the local farmers to make their offerings to the kami of agriculture.  The building was little more than fifteen feet wide by perhaps twenty feet from front to back—hardly large enough for a youkai of any real consequence to have taken up residence, in the first place.

The taijya scowled.  "I don't, either," she admitted without shifting her gaze away.  "But the locals swear that there's—something—in there."

"They also said that they haven't seen it," Jirou pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest, hands hidden in the folds of his haori, as he leaned back on his heels.

"But the offerings they leave keep disappearing, too," Marisaiko said slowly, as though she were pondering the situation.  She shook her head, the long, black ponytail she wore to keep her hair out of the way while she worked, swinging pertly with the motion.  "What do you think?  I suppose we could always just post a couple ofuda and call it good . . ."

Jirou snorted indelicately.  "Sounds like something Papa would accuse Miroku of having done, back in the day."

"Are you calling him a shyster?"

Jirou shook his head but grinned.  "If the proverbial shoe fits . . ."

She laughed and started walking once more, striding purposefully toward the small shrine.

Letting his arms drop to his sides, Jirou followed Marisaiko.  It was weird, really, he thought.  The headman of the village that had requested the taijya's assistance really did seem convinced  that there was a youkai taking up residence in the tiny shrine, and he figured that stranger things had happened, so it might not be completely out of the range of feasibility.  When he considered all the stories that he'd been told over the years, all the things that seemed entirely too impossible, so much larger than life, he figured that anything was possible, but if that were the case, then why didn't they sense the presence of a youkai?

Marisaiko knelt down to retrieve a tiny bit of fabric off the ground.  Turning it over in her nimble fingers, she bit her lip—a normal enough expression for her when she was concentrating.

Peering over Marisaiko's shoulder, Jirou frowned.  Rather rough grayish-brown material—definitely homemade—it really wasn't very remarkable otherwise.

"What's that?" he asked when she remained silent.

"I don't know," she admitted at length.  "Maybe it's not important.  Who knows?  But it's dry—bone dry."

Leaning over her shoulder, long enough to pluck the scrap out of her hand, he straightened up as he looked it over, too.

'True enough,' Jirou thought  It had rained most of the day, had only just stopped in the last hour, in fact.  If the little swatch of fabric had been there, it should be damp, at the very least, and probably ought to be soaking wet.

Even so, a bit of fabric didn't really mean much.  He lifted it to his nose, but wasn't surprised that he couldn't rightfully ascertain a clear scent, either.  Well, that wasn't entirely true.  He could make out a bit of the scent, but it was more like hints and traces, kind of like puzzle pieces, really, and, considering he had no idea, just who or what they were even looking for, it was impossible to say if the things he could discern even belonged to anyone of interest, anyway—or if the convoluted smells all emanated from a single being, for that matter.

He handed the scrap back and stepped around her, inhaling deeply as he passed through the three vermillion torii, gaze focused straight ahead, fixed upon the twin kitsune statues flanking the opening.  Stepping over to the bamboo fountain, he took the ladle and cleansed his hands and rinsed his mouth before dumping the rest of the water onto the ground and replacing it once more before stepping into the shrine.

Before the small alter were empty bowls, an empty flagon left carelessly on its side, but the shrine itself was empty, despite the lingering smell of incense.  Still, he rang the bell and clapped his hands twice before lowering his head for a few moments of prayer.  Kagome had insisted upon her children learning the Shinto faith, even if InuYasha wasn't exactly religious.  Having shown the proper respect, he flattened his ears as he wrinkled his nose and fought back the urge to sneeze, then slowly pivoted on his heel, letting his gaze shift over the empty interior.

"Well, the headman was right about the offerings being taken—or eaten, anyway," Marisaiko remarked quietly as she stepped into the shrine.  She followed Jirou's lead and offered a silent prayer of her own before resuming her inspection.

Jirou grunted.  "Whoever it was isn't here now," he said, satisfied that there really wasn't anyone inside the building.  "Even so, I still don't sense any youki."

She slowly shrugged off the small hip-pack that she used to carry some of her smaller necessities, and Jirou raised an eyebrow as she pulled out two small onigiri and placed them upon the alter.

"Come on," she said as she strode briskly over to him, grasping him by the arm and tugging him out of the shrine behind her.

"What are we doing?" he asked, tugging his arm free and casting her a quizzical glance.

Crossing the path, she led him a few feet into the cover of the forest before turning her attention to a sturdy-looking tree.  "We're waiting," she said, careful to keep her voice down as she started to climb.

Rolling his eyes, Jirou caught her around the waist and leapt into the branches.  "What makes you think that the thief is coming back?"

She shrugged as she made herself comfortable on the branch.  Their view of the shrine was pretty obscured, but it didn't matter when they would be able to sense anyone who happened to stop.  "Free food," she replied in a completely matter-of-fact tone.  "Even though that's entirely despicable."

Settling back against the sturdy tree trunk, he folded his arms together, resting his bare feet on the roughened branch.

"So . . . " she drawled at length, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them.

He sighed.  "So?" he echoed.

She shrugged, her gaze scanning the area near the shrine that they could see through the veil of foliage.  "So . . . Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you lately?"

Grimacing inwardly, Jirou stifled a sigh.  It wasn't entirely surprising that Marisaiko would pick up on his general preoccupation of late.  Even when he succeeded in hiding such things from his family, which wasn't nearly as often as he might have liked, Marisaiko was not nearly as easy to fool.

It was a strange thing, maybe.  The two of them had always been closer than anyone else, even closer than he and his own twin.  That wasn't to say that he and Ai weren't close.  They were, but there was a certain degree of separation, too.  Maybe it was because of Ai's tendency to be more reactive than Jirou, or maybe it was simply the underlying sense of sibling rivalry that had always delineated their relationship.  He didn't know, but there had never been that kind of feeling with Marisaiko, either.

"Dunno what you're talking about," he muttered, scowling over her head at nothing in particular.

"Even Ai's noticed it," she went on in a carefully nonchalant tone, ignoring his claim entirely.  "Says you've been too quiet lately.  I mean, you're always quiet, but she said you've been almost distracted—I think that was her word for it, anyway.  Want to talk about it?"

He sighed, letting his head fall against the tree, staring at Marisaiko through half-closed eyes for several long moments.  Watching as the breeze tossed her ponytail, as she kicked her feet that dangled off the branch, he couldn't help but to feel slightly stupid about his own feelings.  She'd never understand, would she?  Marisaiko, whose entire life seemed like it was preordained, that she had always been the blessed child . . . How could she understand, really, when, in all honesty, Jirou himself didn't?

"It's nothing," he stated once more.  "At least, it's nothing important."

She wasn't buying.  He could tell by the way her thin shoulders stiffened just a little, could tell by the way she sat up just a little straighter, could tell by the subtle shift in her aura.  "Okay, then tell me what's unimportant, then."

He opened his mouth to insist once more that there was nothing at all bothering him.  The words died on his tongue, though, when a slight movement off to the left drew his attention.  Sitting up straight, he caught Marisaiko's eye and held up a finger to his lips before pointing in the direction of the movement.

Carefully getting to his feet, he pushed himself off the branch to one that was a little closer to the shrine, though not quite near enough to draw notice.  It afforded him a better view, and he frowned as he watched an old farmer, leaning heavily on a walking stick.

The old man shuffled forward as Jirou relaxed slightly.  If that was the thief, he'd eat his sword, and he stifled the urge to sigh.

But the old man pulled a small pot of sake out of his haori as he passed under the Torii.

"False alarm," Marisaiko muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.  But she'd known that he'd hear her.  "Posting a couple ofuda is starting to sound better and better by the second."

"It's a shrine," Jirou pointed out with a shake of his head.  "If that's not enough to dissuade someone, then a couple ofuda won't, either."

She sighed.  "We're going to be here for a while, aren't we?"

Jirou didn't respond to that since he had a feeling that she was absolutely right . . .


InuYasha stomped into the hut with a loud, "Keh!" as he let the bamboo mat that covered the doorway fall back into place carelessly.  "Oi!  Kagome!  Where the hell are you?" he called.

Poking her head out of Jirou's bedroom, she scowled at her mate.  "I'm in here, dog boy, and just why are you bellowing?"
He snorted again. "Do me a favor, will you?  If one more villager shows up, asking me to get rid of the rat-youkai in their hut, tell 'im to shove it up his—"

She rolled her eyes, but broke into a grin.  "I'm not telling anyone to shove anything anywhere," she retorted, though she sounded more amused than irritated at his harsh choice of words.  Leaning in the doorway, she crossed her arms over her chest and slowly shook her head.  "It's nice to be needed, isn't it?"

That didn't deserve a response, as far as InuYasha was concerned, and he stomped over to the fire pit, yanking Tetsusaiga from the waistband of his hakama before sitting on the floor, cross legged, with his arms wrapped around the legacy sword.

It figured, didn't it?  For the last month, all he'd done was vermin control in the village, and, to be honest, he was getting a little impatient.  Part of it was just dumb luck, and part of it was by design, he supposed.  He had consciously taken a step back in the last few months to allow his pups to get their feet wet, so to speak.  Even so, the lack of real challenge was grating on his nerves, and it just figured that Kagome could see the humor in it, too.

"InuYasha . . ."

Blinking away his thoughts, InuYasha shifted his gaze to his mate—and the thoughtful frown that had solidified in her expression.  Still leaning in the doorway, she was frowning at him, deep in thought.  He waited for her to speak.

The miko sighed, and it struck InuYasha not for the first time that in the twenty-plus years that she'd been his mate, she hadn't really aged at all.  Then again, he probably hadn't, either, but then, he couldn't say he had ever been in the habit of staring at his own reflection to make that sort of judgment call, anyway.

"Spit it out, wench," he prompted when Kagome remained silent.

She made a face but pushed herself away from the doorframe to wander over to his side where she knelt beside him, her gaze trained on her hands, folded in her lap.  "I wondered," she finally said in a slow, almost calculated sort of way, "has Jirou said . . . anything to you?"

"'Bout what?"

She shrugged, and her exhalation was a little louder than it should have been.  "I don't know," she replied just as slowly, "It's just a feeling, I guess . . ."

Ears twitching as he pondered her assessment, he scowled at the fire.  It'd be easy for him to automatically reassure her, certainly, but he knew from past experience that her feelings were dead-on most of the time.  "What kind of feeling?"

Letting out another deep breath at the softness behind InuYasha's tone, she shot him a wan smile, as though she were trying to convince him that she was wrong, after all.  "He . . . He just seems so . . . distant lately . . ."

Considering her statement, InuYasha nodded just a little.  He'd be lying if he tried to say that he hadn't noticed the same thing, and it shouldn't have surprised him that Kagome had noticed it, too, since she tended to be far more intuitive than he ever was.  "You're reading too much into it, Kagome."

"No, I'm not," she insisted matter-of-factly.  "At first, I thought maybe it was too much for him—Todai's not an easy university—but it's more than that.  It's like he's . . ." Trailing off, she sighed again.

"Like he's trying to figure things out," InuYasha finished for her.

Her scowl darkened as she turned her face to stare at InuYasha.  "But what things?"

Giving an offhanded shrug, InuYasha rolled his eyes.  "Things, wench, things," he insisted.  "Be weird if he wasn't.  He ain't a pup anymore."

Waving her hands dismissively, Kagome made a face.  "Yeah, okay, but what kind of things?  And why can't he talk to us about it?"

"Leave him alone, wench," InuYasha stated flatly.  "He'll talk when and if he's ready, and if he don't, then it ain't any of our business."

The mulish set to her features stated quite plainly that she didn't agree.  Not surprising, he figured.  Years of being a mother hadn't helped to quell her unnatural need to fix everything and everyone . . . and he loved that about her, too.

"Maybe if you talked to him—"

"Forget it, wench," he interrupted with a shake of his head.  "And don't you do it, either.  I mean it."

She uttered a longsuffering sigh designed to let him know exactly what she thought of that idea, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off short by another voice.

"Oh, there you are, InuYasha," Miroku remarked as he pushed the bamboo mat aside and stepped into the hut after allowing Sango to enter ahead of him.  "Here."

It was pure reflex that caused InuYasha to catch the small cloth pouch that Miroku tossed to him.  The jingle of coins rattled in his hand, and he dropped it on the floor beside him.  "You took money again, monk?"

Miroku grinned, raising a hand perpendicular to his face as he made a bow.  "It's only right, considering.  If you'd just accept payment for your services, you'd be rich by now," he pointed out.

"Don't need it," InuYasha insisted stubbornly.  "And it ain't no big thing, anyway."

"Oh, it's not that much," Miroku insisted.  "Just a few coins, and they were glad to give it."

"Then you take it," InuYasha grumbled.

Sango smiled, her long, black pony tail flipping over her shoulder as she glanced from her husband to InuYasha and back again.  "Houshi-sama, you know as well as I do that InuYasha only helps the villagers because he cares about them," she pointed out reasonably.

"Keh!" InuYasha growled, hooking the cloth bag on the claw of his index finger before flicking it to Kagome.  "As if!" he grouched, cheeks pinking as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around the sword and closed his eyes, set to ignore his annoying friends.

It wouldn't matter, anyway, not really, considering that most of the time, Kagome ended up giving the coins that they did have to anyone who needed it.  They had everything they needed, and that was enough for him.

Miroku sat down beside InuYasha.  "Did Marisaiko or Jirou say when they'd be back?"

Stepping over to pour tea, Kagome shrugged offhandedly.  "No, but Marisaiko did say that the shrine's only a couple hours' south of here, so it would depend upon how long it takes them to deal with the youkai."

"You worried, monk?" InuYasha couldn't help goading.

Miroku chuckled.  "Not in the least," he assured the hanyou.  "Those two are more than enough to deal with whatever they find, I'm sure."

"Were you two going to start back today?" Kagome asked before InuYasha could needle Miroku further.

Sango sighed.  "We were going to wait for Marisaiko, but . . ."

"Ichisaru heard something about some youkai near the village, so we figured we'd better," Miroku replied.  "Apparently, there was some trouble near Midoriko's cave."

"Midoriko's cave?" InuYasha echoed, opening his eyes and pinning Miroku with a no-nonsense glower.  "Ape-shit tell you anything else?"

"No.  He only heard that there were a couple youkai who wanted to pass through to get to the cave.  He said that they left when they were told they couldn't enter," Sango added.

"Anyway," Miroku said, holding up a hand to decline the offer of the cup of tea that Kagome held out to him, "if you'd tell her that we've already gone back, we'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure," Kagome replied with a bright smile.  "I'll ask Jirou if he'll escort her home."

"Thanks," Sango said, hurriedly giving Kagome a quick squeeze.  "She can make the journey alone, but . . ."

Kagome waved off Sango's unvoiced concern.  "It's not a problem."

InuYasha stood up, shoving Tetsusaiga through his waistband once more.  "I'll be back in a day or two," he said, striding over to kiss Kagome's cheek.

"You're going, too?"

He shot her a droll kind of look, as though she ought to have figured as much.  "Keep those pups of yours out of trouble, will you?"

Kagome laughed and gave him a quick hug.  "You love those pups," she reminded him.

He followed Miroku and Sango toward the door.  "Keh," he replied, but the smile he spared her before stepping outside spoke volumes.


"Here."

Marisaiko jerked back as Jirou dangled a big, fat rabbit before her face.  Hunkered down next to the fire pit, she'd just finished building a makeshift spit out of stout sticks.

She shot him a droll look but took the animal and jabbed it onto the sharpened stick.  "I thought you were going to catch some fish?" she said without looking up from her task as she settled the stick over the supports she'd already erected to roast it.

"I was going to," he agreed.  "But the rabbit was right there, so-o-o-o-o . . ."

Settling down against a nearby tree, Jirou pulled his sword, Shinkoukage from the waistband of his hakama and wrapped his arms around it protectively.  "What's the plan now?"

She didn't look nearly as irritated as he figured she probably was.  Having spent the better portion of the afternoon, sitting up in a tree while they waited for the thief to show up again, only to end up, admitting defeat, at least for the day, they'd decided to make camp and try again tomorrow.

"With any luck, the thief will show himself," she said.

He grunted in response.  "If you think so," he allowed.

She didn't say anything to that.  She probably thought the same thing he did: that it'd take a whole lot of luck to catch that thief.  'Unless they're stupid,' he thought wryly.  'Never discount the intelligence—or the lack thereof—of the enemy, after all . . .'

"If the thief isn't youkai, then this is all pretty pointless, isn't it?" she finally remarked, idly turning the rabbit as the pleasant smell of the cooking meat resonated from the fire and wrenched an uncomfortable groan from Jirou's empty stomach.  "I'm a taijya, not some weird, medieval police officer."

Her assessment drew a chuckle from him, mostly because it always amused him whenever she referenced things from the present day and things that she, by rights, shouldn't know anything about.

"Pointless, maybe," he allowed, "but it's kind of . . . nice out here."

Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she stared at him for a moment.  He could feel the intensity of her gaze, as though she were trying to see right into his mind.  "It is," she finally agreed.  "It's probably a lot like it was when our parents were searching for Naraku."

"There's nobody like that anymore."

She frowned.  "You say that like it's a bad thing," she ventured, choosing her words carefully.

He shot her a droll look.  "I didn't.  I just meant that Mama, Papa  . . . your parents . . . They really did something, you know?  Everything they did . . ." Trailing off, he scowled.  He still couldn't put his feelings into words, and he sighed.  "It's just not like that now."

Marisaiko stared at him, but slowly nodded.  "But isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah," he allowed.  It wasn't like he actually wanted some great evil to rise, to threaten all of those whom he held dear.  That would be stupid, after all, especially after his parents had fought so hard to quell it before, had struggled to achieve the relative peace that was the only world that Jirou knew.

No, it wasn't that he wanted anything like that.  But what he did want . . .

Suddenly, she pushed herself to her feet and shot Jirou a mischievous grin.  "Come on," she prodded, rolling her hand as though the gesture would hurry him along.

"What?" he asked as he slowly stood.

She laughed, tugging the two, wicked-looking chakram off her belt.  Tossing them into the air, only to catch them in her gloved hands, she raised her eyebrows at him.  "Let's find out if my Suigin are faster than your Shinkoukage," she goaded.

"As if!" he scoffed, jamming the scabbard through his waistband before drawing the sword.

She hopped back, rapid firing both chakram at him with a wave of her arms.  He grunted, using the sword to deflect the first one, jerking his arms slightly to the left to deflect the second, grimacing as the harsh clang of metal meeting metal rang out, as the force of the chakram reverberated through Shinkoukage and up his arms.

With a soft laugh, she caught the rebounding circles and dashed to the side as she fired them off again.

The blur of silver moved almost faster than he could see, but he managed to deflect those, as well, as he darted forward, intent on closing the distance that Marisaiko was widening.  Disarming her was a challenge, not only because she was human, so he couldn’t rightfully unleash much in the way of a real attack, but also because she was far too quick, too nimble, and she was entirely too good at anticipating his movements, too.

Springing back, she caught the rings in mid-air, then launched herself forward, spinning the rings on her fingertips so fast that the high-pitched whistle made him flatten his ears against the sound.  She knew it—counted on it—and he gritted his teeth as blocked the accursed chakram again.

"Why can't you use oba-chan's double-damned Hiraikotsu?" he growled, barely managing to deflect the second ring.

She laughed.  "That thing's too cumbersome," she replied, "and they've fought together for so long, it's bonded to her."

Grunting as he blocked the next volley, he grimaced as the second one nicked his knuckle.  That one fell harmlessly to the ground, though, landing with a dull thud in the grass.

She shot forward, whipping the chakram he'd deflected back at him once more as she dove for the other one.

He let go of Shinkoukage with one arm and raised it to defend against the oncoming projectile as he drove his sword, point down, through the center of the ring, effectively pinning it in place.  Uttering a terse growl as the blade of the other circlet sliced through the lava eel haori's sleeve, he twisted his wrist and caught it, too, ignoring the pain that erupted in his hand as the blade grazed his palm.

"All right, you win," she said, rolling her eyes despite the grin on her face as she held out her hand for her weapons.

He handed the one over as he jerked Shinkoukage out of the earth.  Then he flicked the tip of the sword against the dormant chakram, flipping it up into the air.  She caught it and hooked them back on her belt once more.  "You're getting a lot better," she commented, her cheeks flushed from her exertions.

"I could have done that faster, but I'm pretty sure your parents and mine would have my ass if I hit you with a Kaze no Kizu or something," he scoffed, dropping his sword into the scabbard on his hip so he could lift his arm to inspect the damage.  The cut on his palm wasn't enough to worry about, and the tear in his sleeve was of little consequence since it would mend itself by morning.  The cut on his forearm, though, was deep enough.  Grimacing as inspected the laceration, he wasn't surprised to see that it was bone-deep.

She made a face at the blood running down his arm, dripping off his elbow onto the ground.  "Sorry about that," she muttered, digging into her pack for a kerchief.

Biting her lip as she carefully dabbed at the wound, she studiously avoided his gaze as she sighed.  "That's really bad," she remarked slowly as she inspected the wound.

"It'll be fine," he said, taking the kerchief and applying pressure to it stop the bleeding.

Marisaiko didn't look entirely convinced.  Lifting her chin, tilting her head back, she frowned at the falling dusk.

"We don't need to start back now," he said, figuring that she was trying to decide if it would be safe enough to travel at night.  "It'll be healed by morning."

"Maybe," she said slowly, dubiously, "but you know how Kagome-oba-chan is when you get hurt."

He snorted indelicately since he did, indeed, know how his mother was.  She'd worry, she'd fret, and then she'd scold if he admitted that he'd allowed Suigin to hit him on purpose.  "I'm not a pup anymore," he grumbled, ears flicking as his irritation sparked.  "Forget about it.  It'll be fine, I said."

She stared at him for a moment, arms crossed over her chest as a stubborn expression darkened her countenance.  Finally, though, she shook her head and gave up on the idea.  "Come on," she said, grabbing his arm and turning back toward the fire.  "The rabbit's probably . . ."

Jirou drew up short when Marisaiko did, and he blinked in surprise.  The fire was fine, blazing merrily in the falling night, and everything was exactly as it was before Marisaiko had challenged him to a match.

The rabbit, however, was gone.