InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Once Upon an Inuyoukai ❯ Thin Black Line ( Chapter 15 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Empatheia 
Izayoi has to do some public speaking. We meet Inutaisho's arch-nemesis, and man, is he creepy!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Hentai / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.19.2006 | Updated On: 02.20.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 236 | Status: Work In Progress
Izayoi has to do some public speaking. We meet Inutaisho's arch-nemesis, and man, is he creepy!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Hentai / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.19.2006 | Updated On: 02.20.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 236 | Status: Work In Progress
It turns out that the Stigmata soundtrack is very conducive to creativity. I wasn’t expecting to finish this until the weekend sometimes, but voila! Here it is! This chapter wrote itself, it really did. Thank you, my beloved muses!
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Chapter XV- Thin Black Line
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“Nii-sama,” Ryuukotsusei ventured quietly, hovering on the border between in-the-room and in-the-hallway. The room was almost perfectly dark, the air warm and heavy. Except for the place where a slight, stooped figure stood outlined in a brilliant slash of brilliance-a window. Pale hands delicately held the curtain out of the way as the figure gazed out bleakly at the garden beyond the cold glass.
“What do you want?” The voice was chill, liquid and mesmerizing as falling water. So soft, and yet there was the shivering glance of power hiding behind its corners.
“Nii-sama, Hebi failed. The whelp lives, and his father is nowhere to be found.”
The silence from the thin figure was ominous, pregnant with menace. Ryuukotsusei shivered and laid a hand on the reassuring hilt of his faithful sword. His ribs constricted. His brother’s fury was a legendary thing, deeply frightening even to him. Anger in those with the power to indulge in it is never beautiful, but in Ryuunomei it was hideous. When he gave in to anger, people died.
“Failed?” he asked, softly. It was so wrong, the gentle softness of his voice. It was at such sharp odds with what lay beneath it.
Terror bloomed in Ryuukotsusei’s broad chest. The shadow of pain winked malevolently at him from the darkest corner. He shuddered and forced himself to continue.
“He attempted to poison the youngster, but it seems the child has a natural resistance to all forms of poison, inherited from his mother. He hardly even became ill.”
Ryuunomei made a choking sound, and his thin shoulders stiffened.
Ryuukotsusei closed his eyes and prayed for his life.
His older brother, so frail and sickly looking, whirled and in the blink of an eye was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, his claws deep in Ryuukotsusei’s thick muscle. “That is a minor issue,” he hissed, baleful green eyes flashing demonically in the darkness.
“Minor...?” Ryuukotsusei gasped, the agony in his shoulder strangling his voice. What about that was minor? Sesshoumaru lived, and their main target, Inutaisho, was missing. That classified as fairly major indeed in Ryuukotsusei’s book.
The horrific eyes narrowed disdainfully.
“Such a weakling. You cannot even feel it, can you?” Ryuunomei laughed, tinkling and almost feminine except for the death that lurked behind it. It was the sound of despair, falling flat on the air.
Ryuukotsusei furrowed his brow. “Feel what, nii-sama?”
“It’s gone,” Ryuunomei whispered. “Gone, you simple-minded fool. And I can think of only one who could have made it so.”
Ryuukotsusei was a soldier. He was a warrior of the highest class, swift and lethal on the battlefield. In situations of life or death, he made decisions faster than thought and had never lost a batttle. But when it came to slow plotting and multi-stranded thought, he was lost as a child. His older brother, devious and brilliant despite his twisted heart, utterly mystified him. “My lord brother, I do not understand.”
“Hah. I did not expect you to, my dear, stupid flesh and blood. Tell me, brother,” he whispered, leaning his dark head gracefully into Ryuukotsusei’s ear, “where is the human woman?”
The dragon demon froze, strong jaw clenched. His brother’s claws sank a little deeper, and his slight figure swayed sensuously into Ryuukotsusei’s tall form.
“You’ve lost her, haven’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, so Ryuukotsusei did not answer, only gritted his teeth and braced himself. He was not disappointed.
Ryuunomei, with terrifying speed, pulled away and backhanded him with a strength that belied his unimposing stature. His eyes widened, irises shrinking to malevolent hunter-green pinpricks. “Imbecile! Did I not make it clear that there was a reason I wanted her watched?”
Ryuukotsusei wondered if perhaps, this time his brother would actually finish killing him.
Ryuunomei’s youki exploded and the castle trembled along with the ground it stood on. His short, lank, purpleblack hair rose on the unseen wind and sparks danced within it. “You dare to defy my orders!” he shrieked. What little light there was in the room vanished, sucked into Ryuunomei as though it had never been. Only his eyes and the shattersparking of his youki’s dance hung in the darkness.
Ryuukotsusei resigned himself to death, and closed his eyes.
Instead of a death blow, however, he was shocked to feel his brother’s youki diminish to non-threatening levels, and then thin arms circling his chest almost lovingly. He looked down to see the dark head resting gently on his armour-plated shoulder. “Ah, ototo-chan,” Ryuunomei whispered, and a long hand floated up to caress Ryuukotsusei’s strong boned face. “I could never kill you. You are merely a thick idiot, you did not mean to hurt me so. I will forgive you.” He pulled away from the shell-shocked Ryuukotsusei, who could not even move. “I will forgive you... this time. Do not ever fail me again.”
The threat was clear, and Ryuukotsusei choked out an affirmation through his terror.
“Good,” Ryuunomei hissed, but it did not sound like a reply to his brother. More, it sounded as though he were speaking to himself. He folded his swanlike hands into the deep folds of his robe and returned to the window to watch the first flakes of winter fall. “Yes, good.”
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Izayoi leaned against the shoji, shaking. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. Outside, she could hear the genial cacophony of a town full of people, gathered in one tiny square. Waiting for her to speak to them. Waiting for her to convince them to march into what was very likely going to be the death of most of them. There were thousands of men out there, all the samurai of the city and the surrounding countryside. Along with a few more militant women, and a few ronin, wandering alone and lordless.
“I can’t, I can’t!” she cried softly, pounding a fist against the wooden frame with enough force to make it splinter slightly.
There’s so many! I couldn’t possibly...!
“What is the delay, woman?” Inutaisho growled from behind her.
She sagged against the door. “I can’t,” she said simply, and straightening, turned around to walk away. She didn’t even see him move, but somehow there was his broad chest between her and the exit.
“You must.”
“Why? Why me?” she wailed plaintively. “I hate public speaking! I’ll make a fool of myself!”
“You are making a fool of yourself now,” he pointed out.
“It’s different! I know you! You won’t lynch me if I say the wrong thing!”
“No, I would use my claws. I have no use for human methods of execution.”
She stared at him. “You are not helping.”
He shrugged, nonchalant. “They will not listen to me, or Sakenmaru. Naruka does not have a loud enough voice.”
“Are you saying I’m a loudmouth?” she snapped, crossing her arms and turning away from him indignantly. Behind her, she felt more than heard his long-suffering sigh.
“Will you do it or not? This is your idea, after all.”
She gasped. “My idea, your kingdom on the line! I have no reason to do this for you except the goodness of my heart! I don’t owe you anything!”
He appeared to consider this for a moment. “Very well, then. If you will not do it, just say so and I will find someone else.”
Why is this so difficult? I just have to go out and tell them there’s an evil demon king to the north that wants to rule Japan under his iron thumb, and I need them to help stop him. Simple. So why is it so hard to go out there?
She was so nervous, swallowing and even breathing had become difficult. “What if they lynch me?” she whispered in a small voice. “I am, after all, about to suggest that they go to war against demons.”
A strong hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around to meet the annoyed glare of Inutaisho’s golden eyes. “You honestly think,” he breathed, “that I would let you die after all the trouble I just went through to keep you alive?”
It was a valid point. The fear abated- just a little- and she managed to suck in a breath. “I suppose not. But...”
“‘But,’ nothing. I am sure you will do fine. Now get out there.”
She stared over her shoulder in astonishment at him all the while as he bodily shoved her through the door. That was a compliment. Yes, it was. It really was. He just complimented me. Inutaisho. I’m dreaming. Or I’m dead after all. These thoughts were so engrossing, she hardly even noticed until she was standing on the raised box before the milling crowd.
The anxiety returned, slamming into her gut full force, and she was nearly sick.
“Er,” she began.
Beautiful. Lovely start, my dear. Are you trying to be unimpressive?
The crowd stilled and waited expectantly, thousands of dark eyes staring up at her.
“Um.”
Shit! Shit! Come on, Izayoi, you can do this! They’re just people! Just humans! You’ve faced down demons without flinching! Just humans! She looked behind her, caught a glimpse of dark red cloth and silver hair in the sliver of shoji left open. Remember, you promised not to let them kill me, she said silently to the motionless figure.
She turned back to the crowd, took a deep breath, and began. “My name is Kasurami Izayoi,” she said simply. A few people nodded or bowed. “My brothers and sisters... I came here to speak to you today of a threat from the East.”
All at once, the casual attention of the mass of people sharpened, and they began to truly listen.
“The demon lord of the East, Ryuunomei, has recently attempted to annihilate our brethren to the north of us. If he had succeeded with his plan, it would have killed tens of thousands. Thankfully, my companions and I were able to intervene and prevent this disaster a short while ago.”
She paused, and could almost hear them holding their breath. Humans were communal creatures- threats to some of them were usually seen as threats to all. “Though we managed to thwart to real disaster, the build up to it has slain most of those residing on the island of Shikoku to the east of you, and very many in the north end of your own fair land. The news should be arriving with the survivors very soon.”
Rapt silence.
“You may be thinking that he has given up after this failure. I tell you, it is not so. From personal experience, I can tell you that he will not be chastened so easily. He will try again, and there is nothing to guarantee that you will not be caught in the crossfire again. He is ruthless. He has no care for human life. Though his target is the Lord of the West, he hates all mortal folk and would not be overly concerned if his ‘methods’ destroy all human life in Nihon. In fact, if the cost in effort is not too much, he would go out of his way to use such a method.”
She let her memories of Ryuunomei float across her mind’s eye, lending terror to her voice. She knew him, knew him intimately, and knew exactly what he was capable of. There was not a word of untruth in anything she’d said. She remembered the bite of his claws and shuddered, still slave to her fear of him.
“And so, if you value your lives and those of your comrades to the north, you will not sit idly by and let this come to pass. After I am finished here, I go to the North to fight as best I can. If you wish, I would be honoured if you would come with me.” She tried to sound like a hero, tried to fill her words with the bright allure of glory. But she was just a tired, wounded human woman who was doing the honourable thing, and so the words came out simple, clean, and honest instead.
She looked out over them, saw the truth of things dawning on them, and felt sorrowful. There were so many dead already. Images from Shikoku flashed across her eye and she flinched, desperately pushing away the visions of countless people lying sprawled wherever they’d finally succumbed to the over- saturation of mana . Saw the blood running from their eyes and noses and mouths, saw the deep bruises all over their bodies where the mana flow had overwhelmed their blood vessels and burst them. It was an ugly death, and there had been thousands of them. There had been children too, small golden bodies crumpled like rag dolls in pools of their own lifeblood.
There were tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and since there was no reason to hold them back, she let them spill hot and salty over her cheeks. “You will die, many of you,” she said, “if you choose to follow. But not as many as will die if you don’t.. I will not force you. Choose as you will.”
She turned and walked off the dais to the shoji door. Inutaisho met her there, opened it for her. Once it was shut behind them, she turned to face him. “They’re all going to die, aren’t they.”
“Not all. But very many, yes.”
She sank to her knees and cried for a while then, face clasped in shaking hands. .
He watched, expressionless, until she was finished and standing up, drying her eyes on her sleeves.
“They’re all going to die following me. I really hope this is worth it.”
They’re all going to die, and it’s going to be my fault. Terrible deaths. All my fault.
“They would all die if they stayed. You did not lie.”
“I know that!” she cried. “It doesn’t help! This way... this way they’ll...” she fell silent. This way, they’ll blame me. If he just killed them, taking them by surprise, they would blame him.
“I know what you are thinking,” he said coldly, “and it irritates me. Would you truly rather let them die unprepared without a chance at survival, rather than have them blame you?”
Yes.
“No,” she sobbed, lying, lying, lying.
“You know you are right. You spoke the truth. You should not feel guilt.”
“I do, though.”
His face hardened. “Deal with it. This is the lot of a leader.”
Anger blossomed with a rapidity no flower had ever seen. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms until the skin broke and bled. “Sometimes, I really hate you,” she snapped.
“I can deal with that. If I can deal with you hating me, do you think you can deal with a lot of people you do not even know hating you? What does their opinion matter to you?”
“I don’t want to be hated.” I want to be loved.
“If you lead well, they will not hate you. They will respect you, and thank you for the lives you saved.”
“I don’t want to lead anyone.”
“It does not appear that you have much choice.”
She whirled away from him, trying to shrink into her shoulders. “I hate this.”
Footfalls behind her, almost inaudible. Then... hands on her shoulders.
“You did well,” he said softly into her ear. “It took courage to do that, and you handled it admirably. The road ahead will be long and painful and frightening. But...” He turned her gently around to face him. She stared at him with tearful eyes large and pleading.
Comfort me. Make me believe in myself.
“But, I have seen your courage. It is enough for what it coming, and more.”
She closed her eyes and, not caring if she made him angry, leaned into his chest and took what comfort she could from his solid strength. Save me. Protect me.
He did not push her away. When her hands rose to entangle themselves in his haori, he made no move to stop her. He stood quietly and let her weep. “It is hard, I know. But you are strong. The circumstances will not defeat you.” Her hands clenched tighter into the fabric.
“When you say things like that,” she whispered against his chest, “I can almost believe you.” But I am still afraid. This is such a huge thing, and I’m so small. So very small.
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The man stood thunderstruck long after the rest of the crowd had departed in a frantic, chattering mass. Her shade was still there in his mind’s eye, still standing quietly impassioned on that box above them, hair flying in the wind. Fire and grace. Izayoi.
How long had it been? Six years. She’ll be twenty-three now. Will she remember me, I wonder? Izayoi.
He ran a hand through his long dark hair, trying to ignore the slight tremble in it.
She ran through his memory, a gap-toothed and cheerful child, and then a quiet, serious girl, and then at the end, a willful, strong young woman. So beautiful. That dark hair, billowing. He remembered the feel of it in his fingers, the cool silk of it. He remembered the gentle affection in her woodland eyes, remembered the sweet touch of her hand on his arm. The smell of her cooking, the colour her skin turned in sunset light. The way her eye used to twitch menacingly whenever she was irritated. The little mole on her left shoulderblade.
Izayoi.
It had been years, but had recognized her instantly. Last he had seen of her, she had been living at the demon’s court, and there was a new sadness in her eyes that he had never seen before. She had thanked him, embraced him, and then walked away without another word. Since then, he’d been trying desperately to get in to see her, but he was always met at the gate and his messages taken from him before being turned away. Six long years since he’d last watched her walk away from him.
In those six years, he’d lost his liege lord and become a wandering warrior, and outcast mercenary. Somehow, from his home in the north-east, he’d managed to end up here on Kyushu, working under a man he respected more than anyone in the world... excepting her.
Izayoi. I missed you so much.
His feet began to walkon their own while he was still lost in thought, following the shadowed memory to the house she’d vanished into. I’m coming...
Izayoi.
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There was a knock on the shoji frame. Izayoi tore herself away from Inutaisho’s chest and wiped her eyes frantically.
“Who is it?” Gods, she still sounded half-strangled with tears.
Inutaisho faded into the shadows expertly, vanishing to all but the most discerning eye.
There was no answer. She walked over and opened the door as Inutaisho stood watchfully, on guard.
I wonder who it is? Is Naruka finished shopping for supplies? I thought she was going to meet the others outside of town with them... why would she be here?
The shoji slid open... onto memory. It hit her like a rockslide, and she almost collapsed. The man in the doorway was surrounded in flickering images from her childhood like clouds around the sun, and she could not assimilate it. Her hand on the door began to shake, and the rest of her followed soon after.
Those dark eyes... how she’d loved them. How hurt she’d been when he’d stopped coming to visit her. All those days in the sunshine, before the darkness began, all those warm nights curled up at the fire. This man. That boy. All the love she’d ever felt in her life for him came flooding back in a sweet, painful flood.
She’d been so lonely. All alone, with only Akira’s occasional gift of a few hours and Ryuunomei’s loving torment to keep her company. Six years ago, he’d come one last time. She was so full of pain from what her lord had just begun to do to her, she could hardly even look at him. And so she turned her back and walked away, and he had not come back again.
So lonely, for five years. How she’d longed to weep on his shoulder, so many times as she’d bandaged her bleeding limbs and rubbed salve onto her throbbing bruises. There was no salve for her soul, her broken, bleeding heart. And he had not been there. Never there. She’d scared him away, and he had stopped coming to patch up the places she couldn’t reach with her shaking hands.
But now, here he was, larger than life in her doorway, looking stronger and more beautiful even than her memory of him.
All the pain of the years before crushed her heart, and she remembered that she had loved him, once. Maybe still did. And he was here, now. Standing silent and patient in her doorway, waiting for her like he always had. He had always, always waited for her to catch up in their little games. Always been patient like this. Always been calm, a strong place to lie when she’d forgotten which way the world turned.
The years vanished, and in her mind, she stopped her seventeen-year-old self as she walked away that last time, turned her around to walk back to him instead.
“Takemaru,” she gasped, and threw herself into his waiting arms.
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A/N-thanks to all my reviewers, you know I love you!
If Ryuunomei’s personality sounds a little familiar to you, I’ll tell you that he was partially inspired by Akito from the anime version of Fruits Basket, and partially, by Kadaj from FFVII-Advent Children. In case you were wondering. If you would like to see some amazing human-form versions of Ryuukotsusei, go look at Vega Sailor’s Deviant Art profile. She did a gorgeous job of depicting him. Til next time! -Empatheia
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Chapter XV- Thin Black Line
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“Nii-sama,” Ryuukotsusei ventured quietly, hovering on the border between in-the-room and in-the-hallway. The room was almost perfectly dark, the air warm and heavy. Except for the place where a slight, stooped figure stood outlined in a brilliant slash of brilliance-a window. Pale hands delicately held the curtain out of the way as the figure gazed out bleakly at the garden beyond the cold glass.
“What do you want?” The voice was chill, liquid and mesmerizing as falling water. So soft, and yet there was the shivering glance of power hiding behind its corners.
“Nii-sama, Hebi failed. The whelp lives, and his father is nowhere to be found.”
The silence from the thin figure was ominous, pregnant with menace. Ryuukotsusei shivered and laid a hand on the reassuring hilt of his faithful sword. His ribs constricted. His brother’s fury was a legendary thing, deeply frightening even to him. Anger in those with the power to indulge in it is never beautiful, but in Ryuunomei it was hideous. When he gave in to anger, people died.
“Failed?” he asked, softly. It was so wrong, the gentle softness of his voice. It was at such sharp odds with what lay beneath it.
Terror bloomed in Ryuukotsusei’s broad chest. The shadow of pain winked malevolently at him from the darkest corner. He shuddered and forced himself to continue.
“He attempted to poison the youngster, but it seems the child has a natural resistance to all forms of poison, inherited from his mother. He hardly even became ill.”
Ryuunomei made a choking sound, and his thin shoulders stiffened.
Ryuukotsusei closed his eyes and prayed for his life.
His older brother, so frail and sickly looking, whirled and in the blink of an eye was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, his claws deep in Ryuukotsusei’s thick muscle. “That is a minor issue,” he hissed, baleful green eyes flashing demonically in the darkness.
“Minor...?” Ryuukotsusei gasped, the agony in his shoulder strangling his voice. What about that was minor? Sesshoumaru lived, and their main target, Inutaisho, was missing. That classified as fairly major indeed in Ryuukotsusei’s book.
The horrific eyes narrowed disdainfully.
“Such a weakling. You cannot even feel it, can you?” Ryuunomei laughed, tinkling and almost feminine except for the death that lurked behind it. It was the sound of despair, falling flat on the air.
Ryuukotsusei furrowed his brow. “Feel what, nii-sama?”
“It’s gone,” Ryuunomei whispered. “Gone, you simple-minded fool. And I can think of only one who could have made it so.”
Ryuukotsusei was a soldier. He was a warrior of the highest class, swift and lethal on the battlefield. In situations of life or death, he made decisions faster than thought and had never lost a batttle. But when it came to slow plotting and multi-stranded thought, he was lost as a child. His older brother, devious and brilliant despite his twisted heart, utterly mystified him. “My lord brother, I do not understand.”
“Hah. I did not expect you to, my dear, stupid flesh and blood. Tell me, brother,” he whispered, leaning his dark head gracefully into Ryuukotsusei’s ear, “where is the human woman?”
The dragon demon froze, strong jaw clenched. His brother’s claws sank a little deeper, and his slight figure swayed sensuously into Ryuukotsusei’s tall form.
“You’ve lost her, haven’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, so Ryuukotsusei did not answer, only gritted his teeth and braced himself. He was not disappointed.
Ryuunomei, with terrifying speed, pulled away and backhanded him with a strength that belied his unimposing stature. His eyes widened, irises shrinking to malevolent hunter-green pinpricks. “Imbecile! Did I not make it clear that there was a reason I wanted her watched?”
Ryuukotsusei wondered if perhaps, this time his brother would actually finish killing him.
Ryuunomei’s youki exploded and the castle trembled along with the ground it stood on. His short, lank, purpleblack hair rose on the unseen wind and sparks danced within it. “You dare to defy my orders!” he shrieked. What little light there was in the room vanished, sucked into Ryuunomei as though it had never been. Only his eyes and the shattersparking of his youki’s dance hung in the darkness.
Ryuukotsusei resigned himself to death, and closed his eyes.
Instead of a death blow, however, he was shocked to feel his brother’s youki diminish to non-threatening levels, and then thin arms circling his chest almost lovingly. He looked down to see the dark head resting gently on his armour-plated shoulder. “Ah, ototo-chan,” Ryuunomei whispered, and a long hand floated up to caress Ryuukotsusei’s strong boned face. “I could never kill you. You are merely a thick idiot, you did not mean to hurt me so. I will forgive you.” He pulled away from the shell-shocked Ryuukotsusei, who could not even move. “I will forgive you... this time. Do not ever fail me again.”
The threat was clear, and Ryuukotsusei choked out an affirmation through his terror.
“Good,” Ryuunomei hissed, but it did not sound like a reply to his brother. More, it sounded as though he were speaking to himself. He folded his swanlike hands into the deep folds of his robe and returned to the window to watch the first flakes of winter fall. “Yes, good.”
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Izayoi leaned against the shoji, shaking. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. Outside, she could hear the genial cacophony of a town full of people, gathered in one tiny square. Waiting for her to speak to them. Waiting for her to convince them to march into what was very likely going to be the death of most of them. There were thousands of men out there, all the samurai of the city and the surrounding countryside. Along with a few more militant women, and a few ronin, wandering alone and lordless.
“I can’t, I can’t!” she cried softly, pounding a fist against the wooden frame with enough force to make it splinter slightly.
There’s so many! I couldn’t possibly...!
“What is the delay, woman?” Inutaisho growled from behind her.
She sagged against the door. “I can’t,” she said simply, and straightening, turned around to walk away. She didn’t even see him move, but somehow there was his broad chest between her and the exit.
“You must.”
“Why? Why me?” she wailed plaintively. “I hate public speaking! I’ll make a fool of myself!”
“You are making a fool of yourself now,” he pointed out.
“It’s different! I know you! You won’t lynch me if I say the wrong thing!”
“No, I would use my claws. I have no use for human methods of execution.”
She stared at him. “You are not helping.”
He shrugged, nonchalant. “They will not listen to me, or Sakenmaru. Naruka does not have a loud enough voice.”
“Are you saying I’m a loudmouth?” she snapped, crossing her arms and turning away from him indignantly. Behind her, she felt more than heard his long-suffering sigh.
“Will you do it or not? This is your idea, after all.”
She gasped. “My idea, your kingdom on the line! I have no reason to do this for you except the goodness of my heart! I don’t owe you anything!”
He appeared to consider this for a moment. “Very well, then. If you will not do it, just say so and I will find someone else.”
Why is this so difficult? I just have to go out and tell them there’s an evil demon king to the north that wants to rule Japan under his iron thumb, and I need them to help stop him. Simple. So why is it so hard to go out there?
She was so nervous, swallowing and even breathing had become difficult. “What if they lynch me?” she whispered in a small voice. “I am, after all, about to suggest that they go to war against demons.”
A strong hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around to meet the annoyed glare of Inutaisho’s golden eyes. “You honestly think,” he breathed, “that I would let you die after all the trouble I just went through to keep you alive?”
It was a valid point. The fear abated- just a little- and she managed to suck in a breath. “I suppose not. But...”
“‘But,’ nothing. I am sure you will do fine. Now get out there.”
She stared over her shoulder in astonishment at him all the while as he bodily shoved her through the door. That was a compliment. Yes, it was. It really was. He just complimented me. Inutaisho. I’m dreaming. Or I’m dead after all. These thoughts were so engrossing, she hardly even noticed until she was standing on the raised box before the milling crowd.
The anxiety returned, slamming into her gut full force, and she was nearly sick.
“Er,” she began.
Beautiful. Lovely start, my dear. Are you trying to be unimpressive?
The crowd stilled and waited expectantly, thousands of dark eyes staring up at her.
“Um.”
Shit! Shit! Come on, Izayoi, you can do this! They’re just people! Just humans! You’ve faced down demons without flinching! Just humans! She looked behind her, caught a glimpse of dark red cloth and silver hair in the sliver of shoji left open. Remember, you promised not to let them kill me, she said silently to the motionless figure.
She turned back to the crowd, took a deep breath, and began. “My name is Kasurami Izayoi,” she said simply. A few people nodded or bowed. “My brothers and sisters... I came here to speak to you today of a threat from the East.”
All at once, the casual attention of the mass of people sharpened, and they began to truly listen.
“The demon lord of the East, Ryuunomei, has recently attempted to annihilate our brethren to the north of us. If he had succeeded with his plan, it would have killed tens of thousands. Thankfully, my companions and I were able to intervene and prevent this disaster a short while ago.”
She paused, and could almost hear them holding their breath. Humans were communal creatures- threats to some of them were usually seen as threats to all. “Though we managed to thwart to real disaster, the build up to it has slain most of those residing on the island of Shikoku to the east of you, and very many in the north end of your own fair land. The news should be arriving with the survivors very soon.”
Rapt silence.
“You may be thinking that he has given up after this failure. I tell you, it is not so. From personal experience, I can tell you that he will not be chastened so easily. He will try again, and there is nothing to guarantee that you will not be caught in the crossfire again. He is ruthless. He has no care for human life. Though his target is the Lord of the West, he hates all mortal folk and would not be overly concerned if his ‘methods’ destroy all human life in Nihon. In fact, if the cost in effort is not too much, he would go out of his way to use such a method.”
She let her memories of Ryuunomei float across her mind’s eye, lending terror to her voice. She knew him, knew him intimately, and knew exactly what he was capable of. There was not a word of untruth in anything she’d said. She remembered the bite of his claws and shuddered, still slave to her fear of him.
“And so, if you value your lives and those of your comrades to the north, you will not sit idly by and let this come to pass. After I am finished here, I go to the North to fight as best I can. If you wish, I would be honoured if you would come with me.” She tried to sound like a hero, tried to fill her words with the bright allure of glory. But she was just a tired, wounded human woman who was doing the honourable thing, and so the words came out simple, clean, and honest instead.
She looked out over them, saw the truth of things dawning on them, and felt sorrowful. There were so many dead already. Images from Shikoku flashed across her eye and she flinched, desperately pushing away the visions of countless people lying sprawled wherever they’d finally succumbed to the over- saturation of mana . Saw the blood running from their eyes and noses and mouths, saw the deep bruises all over their bodies where the mana flow had overwhelmed their blood vessels and burst them. It was an ugly death, and there had been thousands of them. There had been children too, small golden bodies crumpled like rag dolls in pools of their own lifeblood.
There were tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and since there was no reason to hold them back, she let them spill hot and salty over her cheeks. “You will die, many of you,” she said, “if you choose to follow. But not as many as will die if you don’t.. I will not force you. Choose as you will.”
She turned and walked off the dais to the shoji door. Inutaisho met her there, opened it for her. Once it was shut behind them, she turned to face him. “They’re all going to die, aren’t they.”
“Not all. But very many, yes.”
She sank to her knees and cried for a while then, face clasped in shaking hands. .
He watched, expressionless, until she was finished and standing up, drying her eyes on her sleeves.
“They’re all going to die following me. I really hope this is worth it.”
They’re all going to die, and it’s going to be my fault. Terrible deaths. All my fault.
“They would all die if they stayed. You did not lie.”
“I know that!” she cried. “It doesn’t help! This way... this way they’ll...” she fell silent. This way, they’ll blame me. If he just killed them, taking them by surprise, they would blame him.
“I know what you are thinking,” he said coldly, “and it irritates me. Would you truly rather let them die unprepared without a chance at survival, rather than have them blame you?”
Yes.
“No,” she sobbed, lying, lying, lying.
“You know you are right. You spoke the truth. You should not feel guilt.”
“I do, though.”
His face hardened. “Deal with it. This is the lot of a leader.”
Anger blossomed with a rapidity no flower had ever seen. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms until the skin broke and bled. “Sometimes, I really hate you,” she snapped.
“I can deal with that. If I can deal with you hating me, do you think you can deal with a lot of people you do not even know hating you? What does their opinion matter to you?”
“I don’t want to be hated.” I want to be loved.
“If you lead well, they will not hate you. They will respect you, and thank you for the lives you saved.”
“I don’t want to lead anyone.”
“It does not appear that you have much choice.”
She whirled away from him, trying to shrink into her shoulders. “I hate this.”
Footfalls behind her, almost inaudible. Then... hands on her shoulders.
“You did well,” he said softly into her ear. “It took courage to do that, and you handled it admirably. The road ahead will be long and painful and frightening. But...” He turned her gently around to face him. She stared at him with tearful eyes large and pleading.
Comfort me. Make me believe in myself.
“But, I have seen your courage. It is enough for what it coming, and more.”
She closed her eyes and, not caring if she made him angry, leaned into his chest and took what comfort she could from his solid strength. Save me. Protect me.
He did not push her away. When her hands rose to entangle themselves in his haori, he made no move to stop her. He stood quietly and let her weep. “It is hard, I know. But you are strong. The circumstances will not defeat you.” Her hands clenched tighter into the fabric.
“When you say things like that,” she whispered against his chest, “I can almost believe you.” But I am still afraid. This is such a huge thing, and I’m so small. So very small.
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvV
The man stood thunderstruck long after the rest of the crowd had departed in a frantic, chattering mass. Her shade was still there in his mind’s eye, still standing quietly impassioned on that box above them, hair flying in the wind. Fire and grace. Izayoi.
How long had it been? Six years. She’ll be twenty-three now. Will she remember me, I wonder? Izayoi.
He ran a hand through his long dark hair, trying to ignore the slight tremble in it.
She ran through his memory, a gap-toothed and cheerful child, and then a quiet, serious girl, and then at the end, a willful, strong young woman. So beautiful. That dark hair, billowing. He remembered the feel of it in his fingers, the cool silk of it. He remembered the gentle affection in her woodland eyes, remembered the sweet touch of her hand on his arm. The smell of her cooking, the colour her skin turned in sunset light. The way her eye used to twitch menacingly whenever she was irritated. The little mole on her left shoulderblade.
Izayoi.
It had been years, but had recognized her instantly. Last he had seen of her, she had been living at the demon’s court, and there was a new sadness in her eyes that he had never seen before. She had thanked him, embraced him, and then walked away without another word. Since then, he’d been trying desperately to get in to see her, but he was always met at the gate and his messages taken from him before being turned away. Six long years since he’d last watched her walk away from him.
In those six years, he’d lost his liege lord and become a wandering warrior, and outcast mercenary. Somehow, from his home in the north-east, he’d managed to end up here on Kyushu, working under a man he respected more than anyone in the world... excepting her.
Izayoi. I missed you so much.
His feet began to walkon their own while he was still lost in thought, following the shadowed memory to the house she’d vanished into. I’m coming...
Izayoi.
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvV
There was a knock on the shoji frame. Izayoi tore herself away from Inutaisho’s chest and wiped her eyes frantically.
“Who is it?” Gods, she still sounded half-strangled with tears.
Inutaisho faded into the shadows expertly, vanishing to all but the most discerning eye.
There was no answer. She walked over and opened the door as Inutaisho stood watchfully, on guard.
I wonder who it is? Is Naruka finished shopping for supplies? I thought she was going to meet the others outside of town with them... why would she be here?
The shoji slid open... onto memory. It hit her like a rockslide, and she almost collapsed. The man in the doorway was surrounded in flickering images from her childhood like clouds around the sun, and she could not assimilate it. Her hand on the door began to shake, and the rest of her followed soon after.
Those dark eyes... how she’d loved them. How hurt she’d been when he’d stopped coming to visit her. All those days in the sunshine, before the darkness began, all those warm nights curled up at the fire. This man. That boy. All the love she’d ever felt in her life for him came flooding back in a sweet, painful flood.
She’d been so lonely. All alone, with only Akira’s occasional gift of a few hours and Ryuunomei’s loving torment to keep her company. Six years ago, he’d come one last time. She was so full of pain from what her lord had just begun to do to her, she could hardly even look at him. And so she turned her back and walked away, and he had not come back again.
So lonely, for five years. How she’d longed to weep on his shoulder, so many times as she’d bandaged her bleeding limbs and rubbed salve onto her throbbing bruises. There was no salve for her soul, her broken, bleeding heart. And he had not been there. Never there. She’d scared him away, and he had stopped coming to patch up the places she couldn’t reach with her shaking hands.
But now, here he was, larger than life in her doorway, looking stronger and more beautiful even than her memory of him.
All the pain of the years before crushed her heart, and she remembered that she had loved him, once. Maybe still did. And he was here, now. Standing silent and patient in her doorway, waiting for her like he always had. He had always, always waited for her to catch up in their little games. Always been patient like this. Always been calm, a strong place to lie when she’d forgotten which way the world turned.
The years vanished, and in her mind, she stopped her seventeen-year-old self as she walked away that last time, turned her around to walk back to him instead.
“Takemaru,” she gasped, and threw herself into his waiting arms.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
A/N-thanks to all my reviewers, you know I love you!
If Ryuunomei’s personality sounds a little familiar to you, I’ll tell you that he was partially inspired by Akito from the anime version of Fruits Basket, and partially, by Kadaj from FFVII-Advent Children. In case you were wondering. If you would like to see some amazing human-form versions of Ryuukotsusei, go look at Vega Sailor’s Deviant Art profile. She did a gorgeous job of depicting him. Til next time! -Empatheia