InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Okaeri ❯ Chapter 16 ( Chapter 16 )

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and associated characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi.

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Chapter 16

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Sengoku Jidai

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The smell of blood, copious and very close by, was the second thing that registered to Shippou's senses, even before he was conscious enough to open his eyes. The first was an awareness of pain, intense and nauseating; a debilitating pain that throbbed through his whole body, but especially his head. He struggled to escape from the wretched fog of it, to get up, to get away, panicking at his body's sluggish refusal to move. Finally his limbs responded and he rolled over onto his stomach with a gasp, and opened his eyes, panting in incipient hysteria. He froze, his eyes darting across the scene before him.

 

Shippou was inured to the sight and smell of death and the aftermath of battle. He had witnessed his own father's violent murder, lived through the years of brutal struggle with Naraku and his minions. Seeing the bodies of a dozen men-at-arms lying strewn around the bailey of the fortified manor house was not what immobilized him. Even the fact that he had nearly rolled into a pool of congealing blood, its late owner not a foot away, brought little more than relief that it was only a corpse, and not an enemy.

 

No, the enemy was the one he had followed here. His friend. Soen had done this, all of this. And that shock and bewilderment was what held him paralyzed, unable to think of where to go, what to do next, as he stared out at the carnage.

 

There was no movement around the broad courtyard but the flapping of crows, already gathering. It was silent but for their caws echoing across the mountainside. The early morning light was weak, the face of the distant sun covered with a thin veil of clouds, as though unwilling to gaze at the sight below. He saw no sign of his companion anywhere, inside or out; the gaping doorway of the manor house was empty but for the bodies of defenders. He was alone.

 

With a trembling hand the young kitsune reached up and felt the back of his head. It was matted and sticky, with his own blood, as he found when he brought his hand back to look. The pain was making him want to retch, and he swallowed, trying to quell his rebellious stomach. After a moment, he felt more in control of himself and turned his throbbing head, gingerly, on a neck that felt barely capable of holding it up, to look back at what he had hit. Directly behind him was the inside of the wall that surrounded the manor, spattered with more blood. That smear, above him, was undoubtedly his. He had hit very hard, from the look of it; the wall was cracked. With an effort he rose to his knees, then his feet.

 

They had come here to scout, Soen had said. Scout. Not…this. He stumbled forward, his only thought to get out of this courtyard and the overwhelming smell of blood and guts, before he started heaving. He quickly found it was easier on all fours, and crawled along the wall to the covered gates, torn open and hanging askew on their hinges. There were only a couple of bodies out here, and he sat down against the outside wall, shaking from the effort and gulping down lungfuls of the cleaner air. He gazed out over the landscape revealed by the light of day.

 

The manor looked southwest out of its gate, down the slope, cleared of trees, to the fields in the valley below. It was built to take advantage of a natural plateau near the top of the mountain, a common defensive arrangement for a stronghold like this. It might be good against soldiers or bandits, Shippou thought hopelessly, but what good against one maddened youkai? What had set her off like that? Blearily he thought back to his last clear memory…

 

It had been child's play to creep up on the manor in the dark, just as Soen had said. The journey to the place had even been fun; a couple of hours' run through the wooded hills to the mountain, up the steep slope, and then exaggerated stealth once they got close to the walls. The front gate, slightly ajar, was guarded by a pair of men-at-arms. The men, visible in the small pool of light provided by a pair of torches, leaned negligently against the walls to either side as they talked in low voices.

 

Shippou had paused and looked over to Soen at his side; she was almost invisible, her black coat indistinguishable from the inky darkness. He saw her eyes, glowing slightly blue-greenish like foxfire, as she turned to him.

 

“Let's get closer,” she whispered. “They might have some useful gossip.”

 

Useful for what, he wondered, but complied. They moved forward, taking care to be silent, and he could begin to hear snippets of the men's conversation. Something about their lord and his relations in the capital. Soen paused, ears pricked forward intently. Shippou found the gossip mildly interesting, as it reflected on the doings of the Shogun in far-away Kyoto; that sort of news was hard to come by, out here in the provinces. Why would the guards here in this backwoods place have heard about it?

 

As Shippou and Soen loitered in the darkness, a pair of serving women came out of the gate bearing refreshment for the two very appreciative guards. The men quaffed the sake the women brought, and the conversation turned to jokes at the expense of the lord and lady, who the women said were safely asleep.

 

“They had another fight tonight,” one of the women said, pouring out more of the warm rice wine; Shippou could see it steam in the cool evening air. “She's sorry more than ever about being tied to somebody `beneath her station' and stuck out in the middle of nowheres, while her sister is getting married to some fancy courtier in the capital.”

 

“But wasn't his grandad a by-blow of an emperor? That don't count for anything with her?” the guard on the left said. “Though o'course, half of the country's descended from an emperor, if it come to that.” He tossed back another cupful with a guffaw.

 

“To be sure, but she's related to the Shogun. Much more important, you see,” laughed the woman.

 

“The Shogun ain't nothin' but a puppet,” grumbled the other guard. “If I was my lady, I'd rather be related to the Takeda or some other strong clan. Not those flower-sniffers in the capital.”

 

“Ah, but see, Goro.” The woman poured sake into his outstretched cup. “The Shogun's family, and hers, is descended from the great Minamoto. She reads stories about them all the time, tales of heroes and ladies and such. Not too many stories about the emperors, see, so the Minamoto bloodline's so much more impressive, as far as my lady is concerned.”

 

Goro was rumbling a response, but Shippou never heard it. Beside him, Soen stiffened, her eyes blazing with sudden fire. “Yes!” she hissed. “Shippou, they ARE the ones!”

 

The guard on the left turned, gripping his spear as he peered into the darkness. “Who's out there?” he yelled. One of the women shrieked softly and edged towards the opening in the gate.

 

Startled, Shippou began “Soen, what--” as he turned to her, but she was already moving. With a joyous scream she leaped forward, transforming, getting larger with every step.

 

In the blink of an eye she had reached the gates, her form now that of a golden fox as big as a draft horse. More tails waved behind her than Shippou could count. With one swipe of her claws, she sliced the right-hand guard from neck to groin. Without pausing she bit into the neck of the guard on the left, shaking him violently before dropping him in the dust. The women had fled screaming behind the gates, not even trying to close them. Contemptuously Soen struck the gates, blowing them open with a crash, and ran in.

 

Shippou had stood still in shock—it had happened so fast. But now he shook himself and raced after her, his thoughts in turmoil. What was she…?

 

He got to the gate opening in time to see her rip out the throat of one of the women—the other still ran, screaming, for the manor. Men, armed and half-armed, were running out of the building and around the sides, yelling as they ran to meet the invader. Dogs barked from somewhere further on.

 

Shippou stared in disbelief and horror. This was crazy—how could she—? He had one thought—to stop her. She was insane—someone had to!

 

“Soen!” He ran up behind her. She was tearing into the hastily-assembled ranks of men in front of her—men screamed and died as she ripped them open, snapped necks and backs in a whirlwind of fury. Shippou launched himself forward to grab at her right foreleg, and yell in her ear, “STOP! SOEN--” With a growl, she swiped at him with the other paw, no sign of recognition in her eyes, now glowing blood-red. He managed to dodge, but lost his grip on her leg, slick with blood, and tumbled to the ground in front of her. Desperately, he blasted at her face with foxfire, hoping to snap her out of whatever had possessed her. “Soen, STOP! It's me! You have to stop!” She recoiled at the flames, hissing, and seemed to focus on him--

 

“Stay out of my way!” she shrieked. She struck him in the face, a powerful backhanded blow that sent him flying. Dazed, he tried to tuck into a ball before he hit—and then he smashed into something hard—

 

Darkness.

 

Shippou scrubbed at his face, moist with blood, or something. It's gotta be blood, because men don't cry, he thought mordantly. He must have been out for hours. It was so quiet…was everyone dead? The guards, the women at the gate…he couldn't help them. Any of them. A lot of good I was. Where was Soen now? He couldn't smell anything but death, and swiped at his clogged nose. His hand came away brown with dried blood.

 

He stared at it in disgust, and wiped it on his already-filthy clothes. Useless, that's what I am, he thought dismally. Useless without big backup. If only I hadn't agreed to go last night…stalled Soen, maybe got Sango and Miroku to come…would this have turned out differently?

 

Dully, he stared down at the valley, wondering if the peasants down there in their village had heard anything. He saw no movement, heard nothing but the damned crows, their caws mocking. And then he did see movement; he got up, squinting. Was it the villagers, coming up to look…? Maybe he should warn them off somehow, at least until he could check the place, make sure it was safe…

 

No. He focused on the line of dark-clad figures, just starting up the path from the valley far below. Not peasants. These men were toiling purposefully uphill, in two-by-two formation, their faces hidden by the bowl-like gasa they wore.

 

Monks. Shippou stared, thinking. What were they coming up here for? To investigate? To bury the dead? To track down the killer? Bemused, for a few minutes he watched them climb; at the rate they were going they'd be here soon. And then he froze in sudden realization: whatever they were coming here for, they certainly wouldn't be friendly to him. They'd probably want to exterminate him on sight.

 

If only Miroku was here. Miroku, annoying pervert though he was, would know what to say to these guys, he thought wistfully. He shook himself, and began backing away. He might as well wish for his father. There would be no Miroku or Sango, no Kagome or Inuyasha to the rescue. He was as alone as he was before he met any of them.

 

The young kitsune took one more look down at the approaching monks, then turned to make his way to the manor. He could see if Soen was there, and had regained her mind; if she had, maybe he could warn her. As he passed through the gate, he glanced down at the body of one guard—Goro?— lying in the dust, and his face hardened. Or maybe he wouldn't say a thing.

 

The crows were perched watchfully around the bailey; he avoided looking at them as he moved carefully toward the manor door. He could feel their beady eyes upon him. He got up the steps, and peered inside the entranceway.

 

It was worse than the bailey. There were some men-at-arms lying in here, but most of the corpses were obviously servants, women…and some kids. Shippou swallowed back bile as he recognized the gossipy serving woman, lying twisted like a heap of bloody rags in a doorway, and inched past her. The interior of the house looked like it had been torn apart by typhoon winds, painted panels broken and flattened, delicate and expensive shoji shredded. The glow of weak morning light coming from the outside did little to alleviate the gloom, but instead made strange shapes in the semidarkness, shapes he approached nervously, then cursed himself for being scared of. Peering around the piles of wreckage, sidestepping more bodies, he made a circuit through the clear areas, searching for Soen, or for signs of life. He couldn't even hear the crows now, it was so silent. There's nothing but corpses in here, he thought, angrily swallowing against the lump in this throat. Soen, how could you do this? And where the hell are you? He had to hurry and get out of here.

 

Picking his way carefully, he neared the back wall of the house; he could see an open door, and a view to the veranda and the garden beyond. He passed what was left of an interior room, and paused, swallowing again. Two people, a man and a woman, lay on the blood-soaked tatami, eviscerated, their entrails artistically arranged in a circle around them. From the agonized expressions frozen on their faces, it may have been done while they were still alive. He looked away, quickly.

 

A slight noise jerked his attention to the right, where an undamaged shoji hid the next room. A voice? He moved silently towards the sound, every sense straining. He could hear a tuneless humming, interspersed with the crackle of paper. A short bark of laughter startled him, and he recoiled, but when nothing happened he kept going. Every step was taken with care. He crept to the edge of the door and paused there, trying to listen over the pounding of his heart.

 

The sudden snap of her voice made him jump. “Come in, Shippou.” He peered around the door, to see Soen, the old familiar Soen, regarding him irritably. She was kneeling at a low desk in what appeared to have been the lord's study; the room was intact, though there were papers scattered everywhere. “Where have you been? Some help you were.” Then she looked more closely at him, her expression concerned. “You look terrible. What happened to you?”

 

He stared at her, speechless. Her appearance was again that of the girl he had become friends with in the forest. Hair and kimono impeccable, young, seemingly innocent. It was impossible to reconcile this with the monstrous things he had witnessed here.

 

“How could you do it?” His voice cracked as he forced the words out.

 

“What?” She stared at him, brows drawn in puzzlement.

 

He flung his arm back, his gesture taking in the house, the bailey, everything. “How could you do all that? What ARE you?” he shouted, trembling.

 

She drew back, frowning. “I'll thank you not to scream at me. And as to `all that,' as you put it, I thought I had been clear.” She stared up at him unblinking, her eyes burning. “Revenge. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

 

Shippou sank down on his knees, facing her, his stomach roiling with rage and confusion. “Revenge? You slaughtered everybody here, down to the babies! How could they have done anything to you?” He shook his head. “It's wrong, Soen. So wrong.” He shuddered, and breathed angrily, “You're not the person I thought you were.”

 

She stared at him for a moment, her face blank. “I told you enough. These people were Minamoto. I am pledged to rid the world of every last one of them. That includes babies, and women, and men, retainers, slaves, and even the Emperor himself.”

 

She turned away from his furious scowl to gaze out the back door of the room; the shutter was pulled back to reveal the garden. A plum tree was visible outside; the last of its blooms, flattened and spoiled, lay scattered on the ground. She continued, her voice low and intense.

 

“I told you they destroyed my family. It was an old den, established centuries before when there were few humans around. When the Minamoto came, new to their power and expanding their holdings, they saw us as trouble, vermin to be exterminated. For such a large den of foxes, they sent to the capital, and they hired monks, and some sorcerers, and brought in their own soldiers. And dogs.” Her voice dripped with disgust. “A whole pack of filthy dogs.”

 

Her eyes had not left the garden as she spoke, but now she turned to face him. “And do you know what they did then?” she whispered, pinning him with a fierce, hypnotic gaze. He shook his head, mutely. “The monks and the sorcerers kept us all trapped in our den so we couldn't escape, and they sent in their men and their dogs. They didn't spare a single kitsune, old or young. My parents, my brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles--they were all killed, killed without mercy, in the dark of the den.

 

“I escaped, with my brother. My mother got us out before they sealed all the exits, told us to run. But they saw us.” Her eyes had become wide, unseeing, as she spoke. “My brother shielded me with his own body when they shot at us. His last words to me were to run, to live, and avenge them all.”

 

She got up, and loomed over Shippou, piercing him with eyes now black and pitiless. “And that,” she said, her voice rising, “is why I will kill every single one of them, until the world ends. No mercy for any of them.”

 

Shippou stared up at her, speechless. This cold-eyed creature was something different altogether from both the girl he had known in the forest, and the berserker from last night. Who was the real Soen?

 

“I will do the same to them as they did to us. You don't think that's fair? I thought you had considered revenge yourself, once.” She sat back down, with a bitter smile. “Oh, wait. You had someone else to kill the Thunder Brothers for you. Makes it a lot easier, doesn't it.”

 

Shippou felt a chill as he thought of his father's murderers. If he hadn't met Kagome and Inuyasha then…but the Thunder Brothers were long dead now, and he was alive. Suddenly he felt overwhelmed by a rush of emotion—he missed them both, Kagome and that stupid dog-boy. Inuyasha always understood, he realized. “Yes, I was lucky to have someone to help me,” he admitted. “But I didn't go after their whole family. Why should I go after their little sister, or anyone else? The ones who killed my pa were Hiten and Manten, not Souten.”

 

She stared at him. “You are a strange one, Shippou. And stupid, to leave one alive. The sister will eventually find you and kill you.” She sniffed, disdainfully.

 

Shippou shrugged. “She already tried once. I don't think she'll try it again.” He tried not to let his smugness over his victory show. Souten was just a girl, after all.

 

“You think.” Soen glowered at him, broodingly. Suddenly he was reminded that he had thought Soen `just a girl' too, and not that long ago. “Little do you know. She's just biding her time, same as I did.” Then she shrugged. “Well, that's your problem. Tracking down these fools is mine.” She frowned down at the papers with an air of dismissal.

 

Shippou thought about leaving. Those monks would probably show up pretty soon, if they weren't scared off by the grisly scene in the bailey, and he desperately wanted to get away from here now. But he had failed here, failed to save any of these people. Maybe he could find out who she was going after next, and warn them…

 

“Soen.” She looked up from her papers, cocking an eyebrow at him impatiently. “I'm…I'm sorry I doubted you.” He tried his best to appear penitent, and bowed his head. “I hope you're not angry.” He looked up at her with big puppy eyes. It always worked on Kagome.

 

She glared at him a moment longer, then sighed and reached down for the papers on the desk, shuffling them together. “No, I'm not angry. Now, we'd best clear out of here soon, before the clods down in the village come to investigate.”

 

“Are you taking that stuff with you?” he asked, getting up. “What is it, anyway?”

 

“It's the reason why this particular place turned out to be so fortunate. The fool lady here had detailed genealogies of her kin. These will be useful for tracking down more of them.”

 

If all that fancy stuff wasn't just made up, Shippou snorted to himself. “What about the lord?” he ventured. “Guess you don't need to find his relatives, right?”

 

“Hmph. Plenty of Minamoto blood running through the veins of the Imperial family. It's good to kill their offspring when I can, since the Emperor himself is hard to get to.” She made a sour face. “Too many shields and protections in Kyoto. Maybe one day I'll be strong enough.”

 

Shippou thought hard as he watched her roll up the papers on the desk and stack them neatly. Her story was horrifying. His father had told him that some kitsune lived in huge dens like she had described. And he could certainly see that she would want to take revenge on the one that ordered her family killed. But all of them? Wipe out a whole clan like the Minamoto? And kill the Emperor? It was crazy, plain crazy. And she hadn't remembered that she had been the one to knock him out last night, in her frenzy. She looked perfectly sane, now. Well, looks are deceiving, he thought, watching her covertly. I'm not staying just to watch her go nuts again. I'm going to need help, though. Maybe I can get some of that stuff away, and take it back to Miroku and Sango. We can figure out what to do, then.

 

“Need help carrying that?” he asked casually.

 

“No, I've read what I needed to. I'm going to store the rest, so if I need it anytime soon I can come back to it.” Picking up the documents, she turned to the wall behind her and gestured. Shippou felt a strange surge of energy coming from it, and was astonished to see a door open up, revealing a small, shallow room, an alcove really. The walls within appeared to be earthen, almost like an underground den.

 

“Where did that come from?” he sputtered. This room was in the back corner of the building; the wall, previous to whatever she had done, had been wooden and featureless. He was sure he'd have noticed a concealed door.

 

She looked at him over her shoulder, while she tossed the documents on the floor of the alcove, and turned back to him, dusting her hands absentmindedly. She knelt next to the desk again facing him.

 

“Your father never showed you?” she asked.

 

“Showed me what?”

 

“Hmm. All right.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I haven't been completely honest with you, Shippou, and for that I'm sorry,” she said.

 

“About what?” he asked, guardedly.

 

“I'm a bit older than I appear,” she said, regarding him seriously. “That's how I know how to do a lot of things. Creating domains,” she motioned to the alcove behind her, “is another kitsune talent. Making them comes with age, though I could show you how to open them.”

 

“So how old are you, then?” he asked curiously.

 

She quirked her lips in a smile. “I haven't reached the pinnacle of my power yet, sad to say. But I am old enough to remember the Gempei War. I had so hoped those fool Taira could do my job for me. ” She smirked to herself as she scooped up some more documents and turned back to stow them.

 

The Gempei War was about 400 years ago! Shippou was astounded. He had thought she'd be a few years older than he; but now he realized that her age explained the power she'd demonstrated last night. Power like that, concentrated in the hands of someone who would stop at nothing to achieve her ends, someone not sane…he felt a chill, and wished he wasn't alone.

 

“I'm not finished with this little pocket yet. What I'm going to do is link it to the other domains I've made, over time,” she was saying. “But not directly. A sorcerer, say, would have to break through two sets of doors if I had to escape through one of these.”

 

“Other domains?” Shippou was confused, and his face must have shown it, for she smiled indulgently at him.

 

“I have a few of these little spaces scattered around. My den in the forest where you found me was actually just a doorway to a bigger place closer to my family's old territory.” She sighed. “Shippou, you remind me so much of my brother. Just for that I would be happy to teach you what I know. But,” and she fixed him with a stern glare, “you can't be so squeamish about all this if you want to come with me.”

 

“`Squeamish?'” He was unable to contain his outrage. The smell of death, the cawing of the crows, louder now—the atrocity she had committed— “Soen, you were crazy out there!” he yelled. “You even hit me when I got in your way!” At her look of shock, he added, “How the hell did you think I got so beat up? It was you!”

 

She had gone white. “I don't—” The sound of something shifting in the wreckage of the manor house made him start, and both he and Soen spun to face the sound. Her eyes narrowed.

 

“Now who would dare wander in here?” she murmured. “Surely the peasants would stay away for a little while longer, and I made sure all the humans were dead. Stay here, Shippou.” She moved quietly forward, slipping around the door and was gone.

 

The monks. Shippou now paused indecisively. He really shouldn't have stayed so long, he thought. Time for a quick getaway.

 

Before he could move, there was a sudden crash, and the sound of men chanting rose strongly from not far away. He heard Soen screech and curse, and then heard more crashing noises, and the pounding of many feet. Panicked, he darted for the back door, but upon reaching it heard a shout.

 

“Another one, master!” A monk came into view from around the corner of the building, and flung an ofuda directly for him.

 

Shippou dove behind the sliding door as the ofuda struck it, and felt a painful tingle of spiritual power from the near miss. Damn it! His heart was pounding as he wildly looked for a place to hide; he had seconds. Just at that moment Soen crashed through the shoji into the room, closely pursued by several monks. Several ofuda were stuck to her here and there, sizzling with power as they burned off. She stood at bay hissing, partly transformed, claws extended from her hands, and the monks stopped.

 

They arranged themselves around one older man, clearly their leader. With a start, Shippou recognized Ungai, the famous youkai-exterminator they'd run into a long time ago. He was the guy stupid enough to have taken on Sesshoumaru, and lucky enough to survive the experience. Last week he'd overheard some runner tell Miroku that Ungai and his disciples were in the area. Shit! Of all the monks that had to show up, it had to be him and his goons!

 

“Youkai,” Ungai intoned, his lip curled in disgust. He pointed his staff at them. “Do not fight us further, and I will grant you both an easy death, by the mercy of Buddha.”

 

“It is you who will die, monk,” she growled, her eyes never leaving the surrounding men, shifting and circling as well as they could in the limited space. “Shippou, get in!” Soen waved at the alcove. “Now!” He didn't have time to argue—she shoved him in behind her as the monks jumped forward as one. At the same time the monk in the garden burst through the back door, ofuda at the ready.

 

He hit the back of the shallow alcove and spun, just in time to see her fall, her feet bound, in front of the doorway—the monks surrounded her in a semicircle, were making for the door, and him. She looked up at him, eyes wide as she flung up her hand in a wild gesture. “You'll be safe in there!” she shouted, and suddenly Shippou was could see nothing. Somehow she had closed him in—he leaped forward, hoping to knock the door open, only to slam hard into it. He slid to the floor in total darkness, paper crackling underfoot. He shuddered in claustrophobia, wheezing as he tried to quell his panic. With a gasp he lit the small space with a burst of foxfire directed upward. It was still a small box, with no evidence of a door on the wall he had come through, though it did seem thinner, somehow. He could hear muffled sounds: shrieks, cries of pain, and a deep chanting that was diminishing gradually.

 

Pressing his ear to that wall, he could hear her voice faintly, angry and desperate. “No, you won't kill me here!” he heard her shout. “You will all die! I have too much still to do!”

 

A deep voice, fainter, gasping. “If we cannot kill you, we will seal you, youkai, where your evil will not spread further.”

 

“Try then, monk! See what it has gotten your followers,” Soen laughed, and then shrieked suddenly, in pain and rage. Crashing sounds, more cries. The other monks? He could no longer hear any chanting. Shippou barely breathed in his effort to listen. He clawed at the door in frustration, willing it to open. Open. As he did so something, some quality of the wall, seemed to change. He pressed against it eagerly.

 

Without warning a force slammed at the other side, and a painful rush of power struck him, flooding his extremities like an electric charge. It burned! He felt his consciousness slipping—so dark, his foxfire went out—! No—

 

The last he heard was Soen's wail, seeming to come from inches and an eternity away. And then his body grew chill and unresponsive, freezing into immobility. He sank into darkness. So…cold…

 

 

TBC

 

A/N:

Gasa: bowl-shaped straw hats, typically worn by Buddhist monks.