InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Peace Treaty ❯ Guilt ( Chapter 15 )

Another warning—there is violence in this chapter.

 

Sesshoumaru was enraged. “What's the meaning of this?”

 

The Youkai looked nervously at each other.

 

Sesshoumaru growled a low warning. “Someone tell me why my mate is restrained.” Poison seeped from his claws and dripped down, hissing and smoking as it hit the earth.

 

General Inutaisho's officer spoke up. “Lord Sesshoumaru. She confessed. She admitted to unlocking the cell door. There was no choice. We've all seen her fight. We had to tie her hands until you got here.”

 

Sesshoumaru frowned at Kagome. “Miko, what are you doing?”

 

She met his eyes, challenging, but said nothing.

 

“Commander Endo, where are the guards.” Four pale, quivering prison guards came forward. Despite his current taciturn appearance, they knew their Lord had been close to dispatching them to the next world when he first learned of the escape. “Speak,” he snarled.

 

They glanced at one another, each hoping he would not be the one expected to give testimony. Command Endo shoved one of them. “Answer.”

 

The unlucky guard cleared his throat. “Lady Kagome came into the prison when we were changing shifts. She was inside several minutes, then left.”

 

“Who else was there? Who else saw anything?”

 

“The fox kit who works in the kitchens and the drunk who collects the laundry.” One of the prison guards spoke quickly, hoping to deflect some blame.

 

One of the guards shoved Shippou forward. Kagome pushed him back. “He doesn't know anything!”

 

“Where's the launderer?” Sesshoumaru demanded.

 

“He's passed out again, but we managed to question him.”

 

There was a pause; Sesshoumaru grew even more impatient. “And…” His hardened face barely contained his wrath. The level of incompetence infuriated him.

 

“He said he thought the cart seemed heavy, but he didn't make anything of it. We think the spy slipped out of his unlocked cell, saw the empty laundry cart, climbed in, and was rolled away before anyone noticed a thing.”

 

Sesshoumaru turned on Kagome. “Did you do this?”

 

She straightened. “I'll not deny it.”

 

Shippou realized the danger in which Kagome was putting herself. He ducked between the guards legs and ran, hoping he could track down Lady Gina quickly.

 

Sesshoumaru could not believe this was happening. “Why?”

 

“Because I felt sorry for him. Torture is barbaric.”

 

He sensed that she was not telling the truth, but guilt surrounded her like a miasma. “Kagome do you understand what this means? Whipping is the standard penalty for the release of a prisoner. Even if you weren't a conspirator.”

 

Kagome looked at Endo. “And how many blows am I to receive?”

 

He looked away. “Ten lashes, administered by the Youkai of highest rank, is typical for the level of crime accompanied by a confession.”

 

“Kagome, I don't want to do this. Say something in your defense.”

 

“I am prepared to admit my guilt and accept my punishment.”

 

“My Lord, I realize she is a Lady and your mate, but this cannot go unpunished,” Endo said quietly.

 

“Do you think I am unaware of that?” Sesshoumaru's eyes, rimmed red, scanned the throng with ill-concealed menace. “Leave us! This company should be searching for the spy, not loitering in the courtyard.” He glared at the guards. “I'll deal with you four later. Find the launderer and throw him in a cell. Do you think you can manage to secure an inebriate? We'll see what he can remember when he sobers up.” The crowd dispersed rapidly, and Sesshoumaru faced Kagome, anger and disgust tempering to disbelief. “Why? Didn't you understand from our conversation how important this prisoner's information is?”

 

“I made a mistake. I am prepared to be punished.”

 

Sesshoumaru felt himself torn in two. He didn't want to hurt her, but he had an inkling that she was forcing his hand, though the motivation was obscure. He was responsible for the stronghold and that included assuring discipline was carried out. It was his misfortune that it was more dishonorable to let a crime go unpunished that to injure one's mate. He was angry with her.

 

He silently led her to the yard near the prison where a whipping post stood, solitary and darkened with dried blood, like a beacon of death. He grasped her wrists and lifted bound hands to a hook on the post, securing her, stretching her before him. Ebony hair fell part way down her back. He knew he should cut it off above her shoulders, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He swept her hair over to one side of her neck. She smelled like rain. He was suddenly conscious of the night before, holding her, small and fevered, to his body as she fought nightmares.

 

He bowed his head in defeat. “Kagome, I don't want to hurt you. I don't have a choice.”

 

She met his eyes. Hers held a heartbreaking mixture of guilt and sorrow. She blinked, leaving only steely determination. “Just get it done,” she said in voice so lacking emotion, he didn't recognize it.

 

Using his claws, he tore the top of her kimono, grabbed and pulled down, ripping cloth and baring her back. Her flawless skin, soon to be scarred, was exposed to the cool morning air. He had never felt such antipathy at a situation. And he could do nothing. His path was chosen from the moment she confessed and accepted punishment in front of witnesses. The long whip was curled next to the post like a sleeping black snake. He picked it up and walked to the groove carved in the ground that indicated the distance from the post the whip-wielder should stand in order to make contact but not kill. His fist tightened around the stiff handle, smooth leather heavy in his hand, and he flicked it. There was a whistling sound and the thing seemed alive, like it was capable of movement independent of his intentions.

 

Kagome pressed her forehead as hard as she could into the rugged post, steadying, focusing. She almost told him the truth when she saw his eyes. Her regret at causing him pain stabbed at her, but in the end it only strengthened her resolve that she needed chastisement. Her betrayal of her mother and brother had eaten at her when she was a child, and she stuck needles under her fingernails to punish herself. This was worse by far. She not only forgot her dead, but had the temerity to live, and live with happiness, among their butchers. Befriend them. Desire him. The fact that she had no real option in her role in the peace treaty meant nothing. In her eyes, it was worse. She had willingly let go of her loathing and sought contentment. She was a traitor.

 

She heard a loud crack, immediately followed by a sensation of such cutting heat that she gasped with shock. Breathing heavily, trying to calm, she bit her lip against the desire to scream. Then a second crack. The pain bloomed on her back, spreading down her legs and up her arms, so her entire body felt on fire. She squeezed her eyes shut and inwardly chanted. You deserve it you deserve it. The words became a mantra. The third crack produced an involuntary, animalistic cry and the noticeable feeling of wetness, dripping on her back. But the welcome agony had its desired effect; she began to feel cleansed, purged. The fourth strike wracked her so thoroughly she thought she was being cleaved in two. Her head hung and breath burned, caught in her throat. At the fifth crack of the whip she no longer had the strength to support her weight and sagged on her bonds. She thought she heard Gina's voice yelling as she lost consciousness.

 

“Sesshoumaru, for the love of heaven. Stop!”

 

Sesshoumaru turned and saw Gina running toward him, carrying the young kitsune Kagome protected. He threw the whip down in relief.

 

“She didn't do it. Shippou told me everything. She was taking the blame for him.” Shippou sobbed against Gina's neck. Gina looked past her cousin and noticed Kagome. “Oh no,” her said, voice cracking. She was too late.

 

Sesshoumaru sped to his mate, severed the ropes around her wrists, and caught her limp form as she fell. Her head lolled against his shoulder as he carried her swiftly to their rooms, mindful of her lacerated back, heedless of the warm blood soaking his clothes.

 

Her eyes opened a little. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

 

XXXXX

 

Jaken puttered around Sesshoumaru's study, waiting to be of service. He had been a faithful retainer since Sesshoumaru had come of age, and he had served General Inutaisho before him. Despite his pride of unquestioning loyalty, he had difficulty extending it to the Ningen woman. Humans were filth, weak and witless. She was completely unworthy of the honor of being the mate of his illustrious Lord. He wasn't the only Youkai to feel that way.

 

Jaken made it his business to know things. His size and plainness allowed him to be in a room, remaining primarily unnoticed. He listened and kept secrets. It was all done so that he may attend that much better, to anticipate his Lord's needs before he knew of them himself. But lately the talk was troubling. All Youkai at the stronghold were happy to celebrate War End's, as none of them had been untouched by the brutality, however the presence of a Ningen in their home was a bitter medicine that stuck in the gullet of many. Jaken wasn't surprised to learn of spies, destroyed documents, and prison breaks.

 

He heard his Lord's footsteps coming near, then detected the smell of Ningen blood. “Jaken!” Sesshoumaru called from the corridor. Jaken was perturbed at the sight that met him. There was no way to foresee that need.

 

“I'll need a basin of hot water and towels. But first get me a blanket.”

 

After Jaken dug a blanket from a chest and brought it into the bedroom, he went to the kitchens for water, eager to fade into the shadows and absorb the gossip.

 

XXXXX

 

Sesshoumaru sat on the bed with Kagome slumped against him. He untied her belt and slipped her torn, bloody kimono from her shoulders. She winced as the blanket touched her back, but he needed to keep her warm. Her hands clung to his haori, and she slowly ceased shuddering. “This is about more than just the kitsune, isn't it?”

 

“Yes,” she admitted quietly.

 

“Why, Kagome?”

 

“I thought if you hurt me, it would be easier to hate you.”

 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

 

“If I hate you, I can't be happy here, can I? But when you said you didn't want to hurt me, and I saw your eyes, I realized hatred was impossible. I knew then I only needed to be punished.” Her voice was barely audible.

 

Sesshoumaru didn't understand. “Kagome…punished? Why?”

 

She took a deep breath. “When I was nine, my father was killed. Martyred they called it. The Battle of Fukuoka. The Ningen army was ruthlessly pursued by Youkai and was on the verge of being pinned against the Fukuoka Canyon. The Generals decided the best course of action would be for a small group to make a stand, while the remaining forces escaped across the bridge. The bridge would then be burnt, ending pursuit. Those left behind knew it was a suicide mission and were strictly volunteers. My father led them.” Kagome stopped, sighing. “It worked. The Ningen army crossed the bridge, destroyed it, halting the Youkai advance. My father and his troops were revered for their sacrifice.”

 

Sesshoumaru was aware of this chapter of Ningen history; he'd been there. He said nothing.

 

“At my father's memorial service, he was praised for his bravery in the face of certain death. I heard people talking about him, how he volunteered to command the martyrs. They said since my mother's death, he had changed. He had nothing to live for. And I thought…I am nothing.”

 

“Kagome—”

 

“But I'm not nothing.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “I am the one who continues to exist. They are the victims; I still live. And I realized I am here, happy, with those who killed my family, betraying them. I couldn't bear it, that one as treacherous as I was the one to survive.”

 

Jaken entered with hot water and towels, set them down, and left.

 

Sesshoumaru took Kagome by the shoulders and straightened her. “Lie down. Let me cleanse your wounds.” He pulled back the blankets on their bed, and she lay, face down, with her head resting on her arms. He covered her up to the waist and examined with sadness her ruined back, though the blood made it difficult to discern the degree of injury. He picked up a towel, dampened it, and carefully began to wash away the drying blood, avoiding the crimson gashes themselves. “Kagome, one does not need to die to be a victim. You are as much a casualty as the dead. Wouldn't your family want you to experience happiness?”

 

“I no longer think the dead care about the living.”

 

“Survival does not necessitate misery. You are betraying no one, and you've suffered more than many. War often leaves its most persecuted alive.”

 

“The living victim…my brother, Daichi, was one.” The pain was a drug that loosened her tongue. “He was eight years older than me. After my father's death, it was just the two of us. And a household full of servants, of course. The next year my brother came of age and went to war. But it wasn't he who came back. For weeks he just sat and stared out the window. It was like he left his soul on the battlefield. At night he had nightmares. I could hear him screaming and crying, but no one could calm him.”

 

Gina silently walked in, carrying bandages and ointment. She set them down and noted Kagome, relaxed and prostrate on the bed. Sesshoumaru was gently bathing her back. The scene was very different than she expected. She reached in her pocket and handed her cousin a vial of poppy tincture and a needle and suture string. “The cut on her shoulder blade needs stitching. Do you want me to do it?” she asked quietly. Gina knew Sesshoumaru had experience tending war wounds and would do a capable job.

 

“Thank you, I will.” Gina exited quickly and without a sound. “Tell me more about your brother,” Sesshoumaru said softly, praying she would continue to confide in him.

 

Kagome paused; if she kept speaking she wouldn't be able to hide her past any further. She made her choice and continued. “He began to become violent. He would go into awful rages…for no reason. I was scared of him and scared that it would worsen. It did. Some soldiers with whom he was posted came to the stronghold. They had been discharged from the military for various reasons. Illness, criminal behavior, dereliction of duty. They were all drunks. They came and didn't leave. One was the ringleader. Takeo.” She said the name like a curse. “He brought in whores, who stole my mother's jewelry and kimono. They gambled, got in fights, drank. The furnishings of the stronghold were pawned for coin and liquor. I avoided them when possible, but mostly learned how to stay invisible. One by one all but the most loyal of our servants left. I didn't blame them. They were regularly assaulted and staying wasn't safe. My father's old manservant was still there, and he realized if it wasn't safe for the help, it certainly wasn't safe for me. One day when he couldn't stand it, he left to obtain assistance from Lady Tokuhoshi, whose lands bordered ours. He told me he would be back in two days and I should stay out of the way.” She was quiet a moment. “I tried.”

 

Sesshoumaru began to stitch close the flesh laid bare on Kagome's shoulder. The gash was deep and bleeding freely still. She tensed when he started, but eased into calm. “One night they were all gaming at dice. My brother always had pitiful luck at dice. I was hiding in a shadowy corner of the hall when I heard Daichi protest that he was done, he had nothing left to wager. `You've one thing left of value,' said Takeo. `And what is that?' asked my brother. `Your little sister's virginity,' was the reply.” Kagome shifted her head and readjusted her arms. “The ancestor who designed our stronghold was skilled in architecture. The manor was a beehive of secret passageways and hidden doors. I had one preferred hiding spot. It was perfectly concealed. Only my brother and I knew of its existence. All the servants who were aware of it were long gone. I went to it, thinking I was safe. My brother would probably lose his bet, but he would keep my secret. They would look for me, unsuccessfully, and my brother would say `She must have run off.' I would wait until they all succumbed to drink, then sneak out and hide in the forest. But my brother didn't play the game with me. He gave me away. He opened my door. The knowledge of his betrayal hurt worse than anything that was done to me that night…Lady Tokuhoshi arrived the next morning. My brother was nowhere to be found. Days later, I was told, his body was discovered in a river. I never knew if the guilt drove him or if it was an accident. Lady Tokuhoshi brought with her a small battalion. They drove out the drunks and the whores. My rapists were executed.”

 

Sesshoumaru grimaced at her use of the plural, but said nothing. What was there to say?

 

Kagome, unburdened, sighed with catharsis. “Lady Tokuhoshi took me to the Miko Shrine. I had a dislocated shoulder and, though I was only eleven and had not yet begun my menses, Lady Tokuhoshi wanted to ensure I would not become pregnant. The Sisterhood maintains an infirmary known both for its skill and its discretion. As I recovered there, I noticed a few things. The first was the lack of men. The second was the kindness of the women. Then I saw some miko on the training field. They were so strong and could fight. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be able to defend myself, to never be hurt again. I asked to stay and, because I showed potential, it was allowed. Normally a daughter of a Great Family would be a bartered bride, but the Higurashi clan was no more and I was no longer marriageable. One of the other Families annexed our family land, and I became part of the past. Until the peace treaty.” Kagome looked over her shoulder at Sesshoumaru, applying ointment to her back. “Do you understand, perhaps, why I was not the most willing of participants?”

 

Sesshoumaru's anguish at seeing her tied to the whipping post, back streaked red, was nothing to hearing her history. He wanted to go out and kill something. He stroked her hair. “Kagome, Gina left her drugs.”

 

“I don't want it.”

 

“Will you try to get some sleep? I need to check on the status of the investigation of the spy's whereabouts. I'll be back later.” She didn't stir, so he rose. He was on his way to the infirmary when he crossed paths with Gina.

 

“Sesshoumaru, I was hoping I'd see you soon. I'm taking the kitsune Shippou in a few minutes to an emergency meeting of the Advisors so he can tell all he knows. Your father just returned, without having discovered anything. Your mother took to her rooms crying when she heard you had been forced to whip your mate, and to top it all off, we just received a courier with a message that Okuri is arriving tomorrow. I feel like we're being besieged from within and without.”

 

Sesshoumaru groaned. “I'll be with my father and the Advisors for a while. After the fox gives evidence, will you see to Kagome?”

 

“How is she?”

 

“Gina, how does one protect someone from herself?”

 

Gina was unable to answer. They entered the Advisors' Hall together.

 

XXXXX

 

It was late afternoon when Sesshoumaru made it back to Kagome. “How do you feel?” he asked.

 

“Raw,” she answered, though she did not specify if she meant internally or externally. “I've never told the whole story to anyone. I've never spoken of my brother before. Now that you know the sorry tale, will you send me away, like so many damaged goods?”

 

“Kagome, you're not damaged.”

 

“In Ningen society I am. Damaged. Spoiled.”

 

“You're not in my eyes.” Sesshoumaru brought a heavy blanket and gently put it around her shoulders. “I'd like to show you something.”

 

They walked through the grounds to an area Kagome had not been, past gravestones and up a hill. They sat in front of three stones.

 

“About a decade ago my sister gave birth to her first pup,” he said. “The fighting around here was intense, and her mate sought to insulate them from the bloodshed. My sister was in what was thought to be a safe place, but a horde of Ningen attacked and killed her guard, her, and her newborn pup. Her mate, my best friend, couldn't live with the loss and fell on his sword. In two days I lost the people to whom I was most close.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Kagome said. She read the names on the stones. Kintaro was on the right; Sumiko was on the left. The center stone was blank. “Why is there no name on the center stone?”

 

“They were waiting to announce the name until my father came back from the battlefront. No one knew what he was called. Kagome, I show you this, not to make light of your suffering, but to let you know that you don't have to be alone.”

 

Kagome noted the name of Sesshoumaru's sister. The coincidence was not lost on her. “Sumiko was my sister's name too. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought.”

 

They watched the sun set in silence. “Sesshoumaru, have I irreparably damaged things between us?”

 

“No, though your tendency toward self-destruction is alarming, nothing is damaged. I'll never harm you again, if you promise not to use me as an instrument of flagellation.”

 

She smiled. “Agreed.”

 

He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

 

She leaned back slightly, looking up at him and said, “Sesshoumaru, I think I'm ready…I am. I'm ready.”

 

He pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head. “Let's wait for your back to heal.”

 

They walked back to the manor, hand in hand. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Admit it, though; you've wanted to beat me since we met.”

 

“Miko, if I had my choice, I'd wrap my hands around your pretty neck.”

 

She grinned. “You think my neck is pretty?”

 

They slept that night in each other's arms.