InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Moving Pictures ❯ Farewell, My Concubine ( Chapter 11 )

A/N: I never could find where it says that ffnet doesn't allow authors to post comments to reviewers, so I'll start answering them again.

 

Thanks all, for reading. Your encouragement means a lot to me. I even got this one out quicker than I expected.

 

FFnet: Ki, Lucifer001 - beading is stringing and sewing beads onto something, gothic-ember, Shock119

 

Mmorg: Jovian Fleet Commander

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any character created by Rumiko Takahashi.

 

Chapter 11 - Farewell, My Concubine

 

The audience was over and youkai began to file out of the chamber. Sesshomaru was deep in conversation with Lord Yukio's generals. Charlotte hung back, wondering if she could get a better look at the Southern Lord's gifts now or if she would have to wait. Regardless, she probably shouldn't try to use the painting until she had some privacy.

 

“What have we here?” a silky voice spoke at her elbow and turned to face it, trying not to appear startled. Lord Yukio looked her up and down, leering slightly, “Sesshomaru is lucky to have such a beautiful flower gracing his garden.”

 

Charlotte smiled and fluttered her fan, shyly lowering her eyes. `Great, not another one.' But this man wasn't a silly monk or some loser at a nightclub. He was a demon lord and she would literally be playing with fire. “You flatter me,” she giggled lightly.

 

“Not at all, lady.” He hooked his thumbs in the black sash belted around his scaled armor and smiled, showing the tips of his fangs. “I noticed you admiring the gifts that I brought. Would you like a closer look?”

 

“I'd love one!” she beamed up at him, resting her hand on his proffered arm. Her heart started to pound as they approached the tidy display and she was having trouble maintaining the slow, graceful pace that the lord set. She `oohed' and `aahed' at each item, but didn't see any of them but the painting. Sure enough, it was the painting: sakura tree in the foreground, a mansion perched on a crag in the mountain at sunset. However, something was missing. Charlotte eyed the picture, trying to figure out what was different.

 

The Southern Lord led her away from the painting to another item and she so was wrapped up in her thoughts that it took her a moment to realize what the object was. Surprised, she glanced up at him. “A French writing desk?”

 

“Ah, so you've seen this kind of thing before,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed. “I acquired it from travelers from far distant lands. A rare item.”

 

“My lord Sesshomaru is honored to have received such a valuable gift. You are very generous, my lord,” she simpered at him, wishing that he'd go away so that she could study the painting.

 

“Quite so. Then your lord wouldn't mind if you accompany me to the feast?” he asked, glancing over at the lord in question. Still speaking with the generals, Sesshomaru was watching them closely, his eyes gleaming with an unnamed emotion. Yukio grinned inwardly; he enjoyed irritating his fellow lords, especially this one, and if it was with the company of a pretty woman, then so much the better. The possessiveness of dog demons was well known but he knew that Lord Sesshomaru wouldn't dare insult a guest with a public confrontation.

 

Charlotte, oblivious to Yukio's game and hiding her annoyance, inclined her head and let him lead her out of the audience chamber.

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 

Creeping down the hall as quietly as she could, Charlotte glanced behind her; the hall was still empty. She'd excused herself from the feast as soon as politeness allowed, pleading an upset stomach. It had been a convincing deception; she was so wound up about the painting that she could only pick at her food. She'd overheard the order to move the gifts to an intermediary storage room adjacent to the audience chamber. She hoped against hope that the room was unguarded and empty of people.

She slipped out of her shoes and bundled the kimonos in her hands, freeing her feet to run back to the chamber. A shadowed figure slid after her, keeping close to the walls and out of sight.

 

She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that the storage room was unguarded and unlocked. Palming the handle, she eased the door open and stole into the room, leaving the door ajar for the light. The painting was sitting on the floor, propped up against the legs of the desk. Bending down for a better look, she racked her brain for the missing element. Frowning in concentration, she scanned the painting, detail by detail. Everything was there, even the way the fog seemed to roil around the base of the mountain…

 

Charlotte strangled a shriek. “That's it! It was moving when I came through but it wasn't moving earlier. Now it is!” She giggled almost hysterically and wrung her hands.

 

A hand on her shoulder jerked her roughly around and she blinked up into angry golden eyes. “Woman, what was that back there?” he snarled in her face.

 

“What was what?” she asked, momentarily baffled.

 

He released her shoulder, almost shoving her backwards. “You disgust me.”

 

Her eyes widened incredulously, “You set me up as your whore and you accuse me of inappropriate behavior?”

 

“Are you meeting Yukio here?”

 

“Huh?” she asked stupidly, completely caught off guard.

 

He pushed her against the wall and pinned her there with a firm grip on her shoulder. “I asked you if you are meeting Yukio here,” he growled, his voice dangerously quiet.

 

“No!” she gasped, the breath knocked out of her by the force of the impact and his overwhelming presence.

 

“Don't lie to this Sesshomaru, woman,” he increased the pressure on her shoulder, nails biting into her skin.

 

`He's beyond reason. I have to reach that painting,' she thought, fear pricking at her spine. Using one of the moves her brother had taught her long ago, she knocked his hand lose with a blow of her forearm. Dropping into a low crouch, she shot between his legs with her hands stretched out in front of her and her head ducked, landing in a neat roll.

 

She leapt forward again, ignoring his roar of fury. A weight hit her back and slammed her to the floor, flat on her stomach. Crying out as her chin hit hard stone, sending shooting pain through her jaw and bringing tears to her eyes, she felt a knee grind into her back and a clawed hand grab a hank of hair. Blinking away the moisture, she realized that she was only a couple of feet away from the painting and home. She stretched her arm forward and touched the painting with her fingertips, thanking her lucky stars when the floor tilted beneath her.

 

Sesshomaru stared down at the floor between his knees where there had once been a cat youkai, the anger draining out of him. When she'd touched the painting, blue light had engulfed her, then her body had simply…dissolved. The only things left of her were the golden strands of her hair tangled in his claws. He closed his fingers over them, distantly ashamed of his behavior. He'd assumed the worst and had let his anger get the better of him. He had been doing that a lot lately and it disturbed him a little, but not as much as the vague sense of emptiness that seeped through his body.

 

She'd come for the painting, he now knew. It looked like an ordinary painting; beautiful, well painted and a fitting gift between lords, but ordinary. Hadn't she said something about it moving? He scrutinized the picture, brushing his claws over the paint. Just a regular painting: no movement.

 

“My Lord? I heard a commotion,” a guard spoke from the doorway, his sword drawn and ready.

 

Sesshomaru got to his feet and pointed at the painting. “Have this painting hung in my private chambers.”

 

“Yes, my lord.” The guard left the storage room, sheathing his sword and calling for a servant.

 

XxxxxxxxxxX

 

She woke lying on her stomach, hardwood flooring cool and hard under cheek. Groaning, she opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. Her burgundy couch filled her field of view; she grinned widely and ran a hand over the microfiber fabric. “I'm home…”

 

Springing to her feet, she turned in a slow circle, staring around her in disbelief. “I can't believe I'm really home!” Laughing giddily, she ran to the stereo and turned it on and cranked the volume, playing the first CD that loaded. The electronic melodies of Depeche Mode blared from the speakers and thumped in her chest.

 

Smiling in ecstasy, she crossed the living room to the balcony door and wrenched it open, letting the warm, polluted desert air wash over her, the roar of engines floating up from below. Leaning over her balcony, she flung her arms over her head and shouted to the hazy evening sky, “I'm back!”

 

“Shut up, bitch!” a neighbor shouted from several floors below.

 

“Fuck you,” she shouted back pleasantly, grinning and giving him the bird. He returned the gesture and stomped back into his apartment.

 

A sudden thought struck her and she sprinted into the kitchen, flinging open the freezer. “Oh, ice cream,” she chuckled as she pulled the unopened cartoon out of freezer and tore off the top, grabbing a spoon out of a drawer. Scooping out a large chunk, she popped into her mouth, savoring the cold mint flavor and crunchy chocolate candies.

 

Wandering back over to the couch, she set the carton on the coffee table. `Damn, Sesshomaru is fast,' she rubbed her sore chin. The skin had broken and it was definitely bruised, but nothing that wouldn't heal within a few hours. She'd received worse during her wrestling matches with her brother, who'd pinned her to the floor on countless occasions.

 

`He was really mad at me…maybe I should go back and explain. I didn't really mean to flirt with that Yukio guy. It was just habit.' She glanced around the couch. She'd left the painting propped up against it but it was nowhere in sight. Her heart skipped a beat and she leapt off the couch, glancing wildly around the living room. Even the box was gone.

 

“The cleaning lady must have moved it,” she mumbled, trying to reassure herself. It was not a large apartment: a one-bedroom/one-bathroom with a loft, the living room separated from the kitchen by a counter bar. Giving in to a romantic whim, she'd converted the loft to her bedroom and the bedroom to an office. All in all, the place did not take long to search, and none of the rooms contained the painting.

 

Panting, she leaned against the wall, chewing on her lip and trying to collect her thoughts. Her eyes fell on the junk closet near the front door and she pushed off the wall, yanking open the door. The painting was on its side, propped against a box that she'd moved from her previous apartment but never unpacked. Going limp with relief, she picked it up carefully and brought it back to the living room, setting it on the coffee table next to the ice cream.

 

Staring at it in dismay, she realized that it wasn't moving. She ran her claws over the paint, careful to not damage it. `So is this it? I only get one round trip?' Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as strange emptiness seemed to fill her and she blinked quickly, refusing to give in to them.

 

`What's wrong with you? You search for a week for a way home and now that you're here, you want to go back right away?' her conscience pricked at her, irritably.

 

“Yeah, but I wanted…” she spoke aloud. `What did you want?' it asked quietly.

 

“I don't know,” she sighed. “Maybe it's for the best.”

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

 

Lord Yukio's visit had been mercifully short, only three days, and Sesshomaru had not been sad to see him go, sending him off with a parting gift of matched ornamental swords: beautiful but useless. Yukio had had the temerity to hint that another gift would have been much more welcome, especially since Sesshomaru himself didn't use her. He'd ignored the comment, as he'd ignored all comments or questions from his household about the cat's whereabouts, excluding Rin.

 

The child had sought him out the day after Yukio had arrived, wondering if she could play with her. He'd simply told her that she'd gone home. Rin had teared up and sniffled, but had nodded bravely and returned to her rooms.

 

He hadn't mentioned the painting to Yukio. Sesshomaru doubted that Yukio knew that the painting was enchanted; if he had, he probably wouldn't have given it away. If Yukio did know, Sesshomaru didn't want the Southern lord to know that he was on to him.

 

As per his orders, the painting hung in the front room of his private chambers. He studied it often, but so far, it had failed to reveal its secrets. With more than a little annoyance, he realized that he missed having her around: her teasing, laughter, and bright smile. She was the only person who'd treated him as an equal but didn't want anything from him.

 

The last rays of the dying sun bathed the room in muted orange light as he stood in front of the painting yet again, his eyes narrowed in thought. He had to admit that the artist had talent. He had captured perfectly the graceful curve of the sakura tree and each petal shone with moisture clinging to its surface. The gathering fog at the base of the mountain seemed almost tangible, as if it could chill the viewer with its cold dampness. The mansion, his mansion, was almost hidden by the roiling fog and he had to squint to make it out. Absently, he lit an oil lamp and brought it closer to the painting to get a better look.

 

He gasped, rearing back. Had that speck of yellow on the mansion been there a moment before? Without taking his eyes from the spot, he blew out the lamp. The point of yellow disappeared. Without thinking, he set down the lamp and reached for the painting, the image of a golden-haired woman fixed in his mind.