InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Peace Treaty ❯ Ghosts ( Chapter 43 )

Sesshoumaru stroked the smooth, polished wood of his father's pen and, correspondence finished, let his mind wander.

 

Two days before, he had abandoned his quarters; Kagome's scent caused too much pain. At first it was strong, like she was still there, like he could reach a hand out into the dark and touch her. He would close his eyes and let her scent surround him, but then he remembered what she had done and felt he was being caressed by a deceitful lover. Sleeping in their bed was out of the question. Worse though was when he noticed her scent had begun to fade. He wanted to cling to that last bit of her, to his memories of them. He couldn't let himself. He had too many responsibilities to indulge in sentimentality.

 

So instead he left. He moved into his father's quarters, a place where the smells and memories brought comfort and didn't torture.

 

He looked around the study, walls lined with books and maps and weapons. Nearly all his experiences connected with this room were pleasant. He recalled, so long ago, scampering into the study to show his father the parchment where he had first written his name. Then decades later, when his father told him he was being given his own troops to command. So many milestones, pride at his growth and pleasing his father. And other times, too.

 

“Sesshoumaru,” the General said as he entered, filling the space like a god, “is that you hiding behind my desk?”

 

He peeked his head out. “Gina and Sumiko are being stupid. I hate females.”

 

General Inutaisho laughed as he picked up his son. “Missing Kintaro as he visits his family? Don't worry. Your foster brother will be back by the end of the month. I'm sure he'll willingly help as you extract your revenge on your tormentors.” He set him down and playfully ruffled his hair. “And I daresay at some point you'll sing a different song about females.”

 

He doubted it. His mother told him that he and Gina would be mates one day. “May I stay in here with you?” The road traveled between childhood and adolescence was a long, lonely one, made worse when surrounded only by bothersome female relatives.

 

General Inutaisho began to strip off his armor. “What would your tutor say?”

 

“I finished my history lessons for the day.”

 

“Alright. Come here.” They sat together, crossed-legged twins, though one was a much smaller version. General Inutaisho became more serious. “I was told today by the master-of-arms that you lost your temper during training.”

 

“Sumiko and Gina were watching and making fun of me.” He knew better than to pout, but the injustice of their mockery still stung.

 

“That shouldn't matter, Sesshoumaru,” he said. “It's beneath you to lash out. Emotions are important. You should always be careful to acknowledge them and likewise strive to keep them in check. Let me tell you a story.” He pulled his son into his lap, a lap that was quickly being outgrown. “A year ago I fought against a miko. Midori was her name. I've never seen anyone move so fast, use a sword so well.” He laughed at his son's incredulous expression. “It's true. I underestimated her and it cost me. I became frustrated and angry and made mistakes. She almost killed me.” He watched as Sesshoumaru absorbed this information. “Don't ever let your emotions cloud your judgment. Draw from them, learn from them, but in the end reason and calm must always triumph. The power you will have one day demands that you stay above gut reaction. Instinct is important, but sole reliance on it opens the door for mistake.”

 

Young Sesshoumaru didn't know what this had to do with the plague that was his sister and cousin, but the words his father spoke stuck with him.

 

He cleared his mind of the shadows and rose to go to the Advisors' Hall. The meeting would start shortly.

 

XXXXX

 

Sesshoumaru glanced around the table at those present—the Advisors, his mother, Gina, and Lord Okuri—seated and waiting for him to commence. Beginning when he left childhood, his father had included him at his right hand in meetings with the Advisors, but in the General's absence it was typically Commander Endo or Lord Sato who acted in his stead. Sesshoumaru had naturally excelled at commanding his own army, and now he was to fill the other leadership role for which he had been groomed, though none of the treachery and political maneuverings he had witnessed in his lifetime could ever have prepared him for this situation—the problem of his own murderous mate. “Gina,” he began, “share the latest news of my father.”

 

Gina rose, hazarding a glance at Lady Seiobo. After four days of heartbreak watching her aunt cry at the General's bedside, that morning she sensed a change. Seiobo was different, more herself. I will accomplish nothing by weeping incessantly. Show me how to care for my mate. As long as there is a chance that he'll wake, I'm not going to give up on him. So Gina showed her how to feed him and clean him, how to prevent bed sores and his muscle from wasting. Given a task, Seiobo seemed to achieve a measure of peace. She had always been strong and survived tragedy as many times as any. Gina knew it must be tearing her apart inside to see her mate, such a powerful Youkai, reduced to the state of an infant, though when Gina mentioned that she should continue to talk to him, that she had heard of Youkai who wake after prolonged periods and report hearing voices, Seiobo visibly cheered, as if that broken body lying on the bed had turned back into someone she recognized.

 

“General Inutaisho is still unconscious. There are no signs of infection in the wounds on his head or,” she swallowed the word stump, “his arm. His breath and heart are still strong, and, though pain produces no reaction, he retains the ability to swallow.” She looked directly at Lord Okuri. “I am ever confident that he will make a full recovery.”

 

Sesshoumaru had heard Gina's unfiltered report earlier that day. She had said the prognosis was not decidedly negative. Her words now, as she emphasized the positive to the assembly, gave him some relief. “I've received responses from the other three Houses. They express their outrage and condolences and offer support for whatever we decide is necessary to deal with this…misfortune.”

 

In the held-breath pause before the last word, they mentally supplied their own. Gina thought misunderstanding. Lady Seiobo, tragedy. Lord Sato, abomination.

 

Sesshoumaru continued. “We have received the first intelligence reports regarding any possible involvement of the Ningen Council. Lady Inoue, you have compiled the spies' information. Please summarize what they were able to discover.”

 

“From what they have learned, the Ningen Council seems to be completely unaware. My spies said there have been no new meetings called, no increase in correspondence to each other, no whispers among underlings. I've been in contact with Lady Nekoko, and she says her reports tell the same. Apparently our efforts to control information getting out have been successful. I believe we can proceed with an assumption that the Council had no hand in the attack.”

 

“Then their interests still lie in the preservation of the peace treaty,” said Commander Endo. “We'll need to draft a formal demand for either the capture of Lady Kagome and her return to the West to stand trial or for us to be given free access to Ningen lands in order to search for her.”

 

Sesshoumaru nodded. He had written the letters to the other three Houses to inform them of the assassination attempt, his first as acting leader of the West. This letter would prove more difficult. “I'll write it as soon as we finish.”

 

“Lord Sesshoumaru,” Lady Inoue said carefully, “if I may.”

 

“Please.”

 

“I've examined the letter written on the Longest Night and compared it against other samples of Lady Kagome's hand. I think there is a good chance it may be a fake.”

 

Apart from Gina, the others were shocked dumb to hear this announcement. No one had wanted to believe Kagome capable of betrayal and murder, but the evidence was clear; now their acceptance and consequent next step forward had suddenly been thrown into disarray. Lady Higa broke the startled silence. “Are you certain? On what do you base this?”

 

“I'm far from certain. If it is a fake, it's a very clever one,” Lady Inoue said, shaking her head. “I've studied some notes Lady Kagome penned to Lady Gina. Her characters have a distinct flourish that, in the letter, seem too careful, too contrived.”

 

Lord Okuri held his tongue, waiting for someone else to cast doubt. He couldn't have been more happy when Lady Seiobo spoke.

 

“Masako, I understand you are an expert at your art, but my son has identified the author of the letter as his mate. If the letter is a fake, who could possibly have written it? You are the only one in the entire stronghold with that level of skill.”

 

Lady Inoue drew a deep breath, dreading the storm she was about to create; Lord Sato was a close friend. “Lord Akeno, I've been told, acquired a great amount of knowledge of cipher and forgery while he lived with the Yamaguchi clan.”

 

Lord Sato felt like he had been struck. He had buried Akeno, his only son, the day before and came out of mourning seclusion in order to attend the important meeting. “You mean my dead son?” he said, torn between utter disbelief and fury. “You can't possibly be serious!”

 

Lady Inoue bowed her head. “I'm not convinced of it, only thought it important to tell you my observations.”

 

“What could he possibly stand to gain?” Lord Sato asked, trying to remain reasonable. “Why would he do such a thing?”

 

“I think we can agree,” Lord Miyaki, another advisor, said, “that Lord Akeno's death at the hands of the Ningen who attacked precludes him from suspicion.” He looked at Lady Inoue. “I just can't believe there is a larger conspiracy at work. Who here would possibly wish for the General's death?”

 

Gina stared at Lord Okuri. When Masako had told her the letter may be false, she immediately thought of Okuri, who had tried to influence succession in the West many times in the past, the attempt at her life foremost in her mind. “I can think of someone in this very room.”

 

Okuri kept tight hold of his temper; it would not do to protest too vociferously. “How dare you,” he said. “How dare accuse me only days after I prostrated myself and swore an oath of loyalty to my cousin? You accuse me of treason, multiple murders of other Taiyoukai, and violating an oath? I am aware of my part in the history of the House of the West and wish to make atonements, in fact I think you'll find consensus that I have already begun to do so.” He stood and looked at Lady Inoue. “And these samples you compared against the letter? Did she give them to you?” He gestured at Gina. “I wouldn't put it past her to alter them in order to make me look guilty.” A quick glance around the table told him not to push, so he lightened his tone. “Perhaps you could suggest, dear Gina, how I came to command a group of miko?”

 

Lady Seiobo was used to lively debate, but the level of hostility, at a time when they needed to be united, worried her. “Okuri, please sit. You are not being accused. Masako,” she said gently, “no one doubts your skill at decryption. But Kagome was your friend. She perhaps saved your pup's life a month ago. Certainly she prevented him from suffering injury.” Seiobo held her hand up to warn off Lady Inoue and Gina's protests. “I'm only suggesting that your judgment may be clouded without your awareness. You must realize how impossible any other scenario is.”

 

Lady Inoue stiffened. “I like to think myself capable of setting aside personal feelings, but I won't argue. Again, I never said I was certain, only that I thought you should know.”

 

They all looked to Sesshoumaru to judge his reaction; his face wore a careful, stoic mask and gave no clue. “I'll draft the letter to the Ningen Council demanding my mate's immediate return.” He rose. “I will be in my father's study. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

 

The gathered crowd dispersed, and Gina followed him toward General Inutaisho's quarters. “Sesshoumaru,” she said when they were away from the others, “wait. Please.”

 

He stopped and turned. Throughout his life, his cousin had always been cool and confident, her sarcasm ever-present. Now standing before him, she only looked desperate and vulnerable.

 

“Everything will come out at her trial.”

 

“How can she defend herself against a story told by a dead Youkai?”

 

“I'll know if she's lying.”

 

His confident reassurance gave her no comfort. She shook her head to ward off tears. “Are you prepared to sign her death warrant?”

 

He only hesitated a moment. “If convicted, I am.”

 

Gina couldn't believe he said it. “Then I hope she's never found. She deserves better than you,” she spat.

 

Hurt and anger briefly flashed in his eyes before he turned and began to walk away.

 

Gina grabbed his sleeve. “Stop. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.” She was grateful he didn't shrug her off. “I'm not your enemy.”

 

Sesshoumaru knew this. His cousin had remained faithful to Kagome, keeping that spark of hope alive, but now it only served as a distraction he couldn't afford. “You can't accept the clear evidence because you're in love with her.” His statement was part accusation, part gentle reason.

 

The joy her laugh lacked was made up with recklessness. “I'll admit that she fascinated me in the beginning, but it's not my nature to want the thing I cannot have. No, I'm not the one who is in love with her. You are.”

 

He stayed silent; acknowledging her words would give them a dangerous life, denying them would be worse.

 

“You say nothing, but we both know it's true.”

 

“Gina, I understand that you wish to believe in her. I did too.” His face hardened. “Now I forbid you from speaking further of this.”

 

“Why is it so difficult to admit that you may not have the right answers, that you don't know? Is staying in control that important? Why are you so much more willing to simply turn against her than accept that there may be forces at work that are larger than we realize? Is it that easy to hate her?” She spun and fled to cry in private.

 

“No, Gina,” he said, touching the braided bracelet tucked inside his haori, lying warm next to his skin, “it's the hardest thing I've ever done.”

 

XXXXX

 

Kagome lost count of the number of days since she had been taken. It had been at least a week, she thought, but seemed so much longer.

 

Two days before, a snow storm had hit, forcing them to stop for endless hours, though the resulting difficult travel had a bright side—they removed her hood and allowed her to walk on her own instead of being carried. Kagome rejoiced at the opportunity to stretch her legs and observe the land through which they journeyed, and since that morning, it had begun to take on a vague familiarity. Rock formations, a bend in the river, those unchanging features of the landscape spoke to her like echoes, so it came as no surprise when she heard that they were crossing the Teshio River at the Takenaga Bridge.

 

They were on Higurashi land.

 

Her suspicions that Kurono and Akagawa were producing their weapon in her homeland had been correct, and she hoped that the excitement didn't show on her face. Not only would she get an invaluable glimpse into the world that Lady Inoue's spies couldn't see, now when she was able to escape, she wouldn't be lost and running blind. The despair she had been fighting as the days away from her mate dragged on suddenly disappeared.

 

They crossed the river in the late afternoon, and Kagome paid close attention to the surroundings. The road was heavily guarded and frequently used, the snow lined with deep ruts of wagon wheels. Whatever the cargo that was being transported, it was heavy and had value. She assumed that the other roads leading into the area were similarly busy and pondered the best direction to go when she finally was able to get away from her captors. As a motherless girl, she spent wild years roaming the countryside playing with servants' children, and ten years of absence and ten years of tree growth wouldn't erase her memories of caves and hidden paths. Despite all the tragedy of her childhood and the last horrible half year living there, it was the happy times she chose to focus on as they neared the manor.

 

Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the sight when they rounded the last bend in the curving road and it came into view.

 

She stopped, frozen where she stood. More than half the windows were broken out or boarded up. The wood of the walls was rotting and buckled in places, the stone crumbled. Dark gaping holes yawned in the sagging roof, toothless mouths silently protesting mistreatment. Her old home didn't have the majesty of the Inutaisho estate, but, apart from the last months when she resided there, it was well-kept and elegant. The thing before her was almost unrecognizable. It was like a decaying corpse, slowly collapsing in on itself, sad and utterly alone.

 

She was pushed forward and immediately led into the overgrown courtyard where two Ningen, imposing and dressed in somewhat thread-bare military finery, were waiting.

 

“Lady Kagome Higurashi,” the taller one said, her name rolling off his tongue, “I haven't seen you since your father's funeral. You were a timid little thing, hiding behind your brother's legs. It was so long ago, I doubt you remember us. I am General Akagawa, and this,” he indicated with a flourish of his hand, “is General Kurono.”

 

“I remember you both,” she lied, trying to duck their game of intimidation.

 

General Akagawa inclined his head in a brief bow. “Good. We have much to discuss, but first I'm certain, after this arduous travel, you'd prefer to bathe and eat. Alas, the spring-fed baths you knew in years past are gone. We had need to direct the water to other uses, but I'll have some brought to you. And some hot food.” He looked toward the group of miko. Hiroko stepped forward. “Put Lady Kagome in the Black Room.” He turned back to Kagome. “There is a room in the manor that no one wants to enter. I don't know if it's superstition or stupidity…they claim it's haunted. Rest assured, you will be well guarded. You needn't worry.”

 

They watched as Hiroko led Kagome away.

 

“We've been expecting you for two days,” Akagawa told Manzo, his second-in-command. “Did you have weather or was there some other disruption?”

 

“A storm slowed us down, but no other problems.”

 

“A letter came today from Takeo. The Council received word from the House of the West. General Inutaisho is still alive.”

 

Manzo stared in shock. “Is it possible they are bluffing? I personally dealt the death blow. No one could have survived a head wound like that.”

 

“I told you. Taiyoukai are difficult to kill.” He shook his head. “No matter. A crime of that type will still give them a reason to break the peace treaty.”

 

“And how did our abductee behave?” Kurono asked.

 

“She was cooperative,” Manzo said. “No attempts at escape.”

 

“Did she seem thankful to be back among her kind?” Kurono and Akagawa, despite the arrangement with Lord Okuri that they kill her, were eager to gauge if she would be a willing accomplice.

 

“I wouldn't go that far. When we attacked, she defended the Youkai General until she had to drop her sword to save a hostage. Seems she has some affection for them.”

 

“Interesting,” Akagawa said. “We shall see how long that lasts. I assume this hostage was not allowed to live?”

 

Manzo raised a brow to indicate there were no unplanned survivors. “What are your plans for her?” He followed commands without question, but dreaded that he would be given the order to execute the proud, brave miko they had captured. Her father had saved countless lives with his sacrifice, and Lady Kagome, though she had spent the past two months living with Youkai, was still a Ningen.

 

“I'd like to find out exactly what the Youkai know about kayaku. Hopefully, once confronted with the inevitability of her position, she'll volunteer and then accept our offer to become an ally.”

 

Leiko had been listening attentively, with increasing agitation. “I thought she was supposed to be killed when we arrived.”

 

“We can't afford to lose such a powerful miko. I know our bargain included her death, but Lord Okuri can't do anything about it…if he even learns the truth.”

 

“You already have several powerful, loyal miko right here. Your greed is dangerous,” Leiko challenged. “And if she won't accept your offer?”

 

“We'll have to use more persuasive means,” Akagawa said and turned his back to the insolent woman.

 

Leiko strode from the courtyard, followed by the other miko. She and Kagome had been bitter rivals at the Sisterhood, a rivalry birthed by their similarities and fueled by her own jealousies. She didn't trust Kagome, but neither did she trust the Generals and had no intentions of answering to them. They had been more than ready to use her dissatisfaction with the peace treaty for their gain, and now, in her view, they were foolhardy in their belief that they could use Kagome. And she planned to make sure the others shared her concern.

 

XXXXXX

 

Kagome heard the door close and the heavy lock slide into place, leaving her alone for the first time in days. She sighed with relief and, hands finally untied, stretched her arms up and out. The movement of unused muscles was stiff at first. Nonetheless she felt light and free, like a bird released from a cage. A great part of her wanted to take that small freedom and break away, but she knew she wouldn't get far. There were guards and soldiers stationed everywhere, all on alert for her. Akagawa's reassurance of her safety was naked threat. She would have to bide her time and wait for an opportunity.

 

She glanced around and shivered—they had put her in her brother's room. Daichi, the beloved brother who had come home from War broken, unrecognizable. The brother who had betrayed her. For years she developed a necessary skill at burying the horrors of the past—her brother's consuming sadness and anger; the degenerate ex-soldiers who moved in and didn't leave; her assault. No wonder they said the room was haunted, she thought. If any area of the manor was cursed, it would surely be her brother's room.

 

As daylight faded fast, she examined her surroundings, curiosity overcoming the stifling weight of history. It appeared as though the room had gone untouched for almost a decade, so extreme was the neglect. The windows had been boarded up clumsily; loose planks rattled in the wind and fresh feathers of cold blew in through the uneven gaps. Destroyed furniture and shattered dishes, the visible evidence of Daichi's screaming, panicked nightmares still lay strewn about, all covered with a thick layer of dust. The blankets on the unmade bed and mats on the floor were in various states of molder, lending a scent of decay to the emptiness. At least the roof above was sound, Kagome noted wryly, looking at the ceiling. The room may be cold and drafty, but she would stay dry that night.

 

A knock on the door interrupted. Hiroko entered with a basin of steaming water and set it down on a dilapidated table. “I'll bring food soon. The Generals ordered that you be given the best we have.”

 

Kagome dipped her hands into the water and splashed her face, sighing happily. “Ahhh…that's better.” She looked at Hiroko, standing near the door. “Odd that I'm being locked up and treated as an honored guest. Do you know their plans for me?”

 

“No,” she said flatly. “I'm not considered important enough to merit that kind of knowledge. And even if I knew I can't tell you. You may be a miko, Kagome, but until I've been told otherwise, you're still the enemy.” She snorted, a combination of sympathy and disgust. “I hate this whole situation.”

 

Hiroko exited, leaving Kagome to wonder what had happened and if she still had an ally. She washed, watching the water darken as she cleansed over a week's worth of grime from her face and neck. A proper bath could only be a thing dreamed about. The promised food came, this time delivered by a low-ranking soldier. Though simple, the food was fresh and better than that consumed while traveling, and she was grateful.

 

After an hour being alone however, her newly found sense of liberation evaporated in the gloom, and she began again to feel like a prisoner. Like any confined beast, she longed to pace, but the detritus on the floor prevented much movement, so she turned instead to exploration.

 

She started by picking up the clothes that littered the floor, lapsed time rendering them mere rags, covered with dark stains of obscure origin. As she piled them in a corner, a few jeweled combs and fans tumbled out. She recognized them as family heirlooms, the things she had been told long ago that would one day be hers. The remaining clothes were given a more careful handling, and Kagome found a dagger that had belonged to her father, still in its elaborately decorated scabbard. Kagome wondered if Daichi had been protecting them from being stolen, or intending to pawn them himself. She put the dagger into the pack at her belt, replacing her confiscated knife, then added her favorite comb.

 

Next she turned her attention to a small, upended writing table. The top, she saw as she righted it, was splattered with spilt ink and carved with erratic ramblings about guilt and forgiveness. Kagome frowned and forced the locked drawer open. It put up little fight. Inside was an assortment of pens and brushes and a loosely bound bunch of papers, still in good condition. The first few pages were notes on training and studies of battle tactics. She almost put it into the pile of clothes, but the next page made her pause.

 

My father was buried today.

 

Died a hero's death, in a manner befitting the greatest of the historical annals, but glory is hollow, almost false. I don't remember him as the man who saved the Ningen army from hordes of Youkai. He is the man who taught me about the value of respect and the importance of family. He is the husband who never stopped honoring his wife's memory and the father who could coax smiles from my sad little sister. The man who dreamed of peace in which to grow old surrounded by books and grandchildren gave his life to a War he hoped to see end.

 

Kagome cleared a spot on the floor and sat next to the dim lamp.

 

I mourn, not for my loss—I am a man grown and near ready to depart for War myself. My lament is for the ones who are long gone, mother and Jiro, and especially for Kagome, so brave at his graveside. She whispered to me that she wouldn't shame him by weeping and instead bit her bottom lip. Where she gets these ideas…she always tried to bargain with fate, offering her own physical pain to relieve the suffering of others. I wiped the blood from her chin and told her she could cry, but by the gods, the girl is as stubborn as she is brave. Too brave. Too brave and too sorrowful. She's seen things in her nine years that no one should see in a lifetime…and now our father is gone. He tried so hard to give her happiness and a normal experience of childhood. I'll do all I can to keep her safe; I worry already for next year when I am off to War. Until then, all I can be, will ever be, is her adoring older brother. But sometimes I think the Higurashi family is cursed.

 

Kagome paused, letting emotions wash over her. This house held so much pain that she all but ignored for so long. She remembered him once as a loving brother, caring and competent, given the role of protector. What had happened to make him change? Why had he not continued to protect her? Hoping to find answers, she kept reading. The next pages were more observations about life at the manor, primarily concerned with suddenly taking on the responsibilities of being the head of household. Then the dates on the top of the pages skipped a year.

 

I've been back two weeks. I return to these old pages to record my deeds, in the hope that seeing a confession in print will keep the ghosts at bay, a brash idea that words on paper will remove the thoughts and memories that are eating me alive. Am I foolish? Gods, I hope so. Far better to be a fool than a madman.

 

I grew up the son of a General, a good man who told me honest stories of War—that honor will be found in sacrifice, that there is nobility in defending one's land. He also taught me that, though we fight Youkai, we are all the Earth's children. His lesson, over and over, was that we, Ningen and Youkai, were gifted with dignity during our creation and there is no honor in senseless killing.

 

How many times have I violated those two important precepts?

 

I have spent the past year serving under General Kurono, a man whose world is an entirely different place. In his world, the enemy has no dignity and there is no such a thing as senseless killing. After months living in this world, I too began to believe it. I'd like to say I'd had no choice, that it was a matter of survival, of brotherhood. But that is a weak man's way; there is always a choice. The only thing of which I am certain is that somewhere I lost my soul and became someone else…someone my father would never recognize. Somehow I must find strength and look at the crimes I've committed. And I pray in doing so I can hang on to sanity and again become the man my father raised.

 

We had killed so many, putting fire to whole villages, full of civilians, and slaughtered refugees in flight. Enemy children grow up to fight; women breed the next generation. That was the reasoning behind the orders. So despicable, but the life of a warrior is to obey a superior, and, aided by alcohol and opium, we had all become numb to the acts we were ordered to commit. If I could hide behind that excuse…gods, the truth is so less honorable.

 

That night…we were camped in neutral territory and for weeks had been awaiting Kurono to send the word to move and meet up with him and General Akagawa's army. Several of our company had gone into a town to acquire some drink. They returned with a tale of a high-born Youkai Lady, hidden nearby with her infant. We were bored and set out for an adventure, never imagining that we would actually find anything. I daresay when we encountered the guard, watching over a quiet summer retreat on the edge of a lake, we were the more surprised. They recovered quickly and attacked, but we more than doubled their number. The fight was long and bloody…we lost four of our company to their six.

 

In the silence afterward, we heard the unmistakable wail of a baby. The fact that the sound only fueled our bloodlust shows how far we, I, had sunk. We broke through the entryway to find a withered old Youkai cowering in front of a door, whispering entreaties. She was bludgeoned as we ran past and into the room.

 

I'll never forget the sight inside.

 

A Youkai, tall and with long white hair…the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. She was holding a crying baby and had a proud, sad look on her face. Several of us immediately lost our urge to kill. Takeo told her to give him the baby, that if she cooperated we wouldn't hurt it. She didn't answer, just tightened her hold on the infant. He stepped forward, and I put my arm out to stop him and said we should just leave. “Are you crazy,” he said. “I've never killed a Taiyoukai and don't plan to lose this opportunity.” He motioned at a few of the others and they overpowered her and wrenched the baby from her arms. It took six of them to subdue her. Takeo threw the baby at me. “You seem to need reminding of what we do. Kill it.” She screamed and begged me, telling me to look at him and have mercy. She knew I didn't want to do it. He was so small, dark hair and a faint crescent on his forehead. “His name is Kiba. He's just three days old. He's the grandson of the Leader of the West. You can use him for ransom. I don't care what you do to me, but please…” Takeo slapped her and told her to shut up. He looked at me. “Kill him quick and easy, or I'll do it long and painful.”

 

I did it. I slit his throat. Was it a merciful thing? If I had refused, I've no doubts that Takeo would have killed him bit by bit and made his mother watch. If I had tried to run, I'd have been stopped. Gods…the things that were done that night. I stopped killing, but am no less culpable in the butchery.

 

Will this confession calm the ghosts? The memories. I can still hear her cries. The sickness in the pit of my belly rises to my throat, and again my hands are sticky with blood. I am surrounded by the stench of my guilt.

 

The next date was two weeks later.

 

It's no good. The crying wakes me up at night, echoes in my ears until I can think of nothing else. I scream in the dark, asking her to tell me how to make amends, how to appease her vengeance. I'll do anything to put her to rest. I'm met with silence, but the silence only lasts until the next time I try to go to sleep. I'm losing my wits.

 

Days are no better. I can't leave my room. I can't face anyone else. They are so concerned, and I am so undeserving. What if they knew the things I did?

 

Kagome is afraid of me; she won't even come in here anymore. It's my fault. It breaks my heart, but she's better off staying away.

 

Three weeks later.

 

Am I sober for five minutes? Some of the soldiers who served with me showed up at the manor two weeks ago. I have company in Hell, surrounded by those share my guilt. And they brought drink and whores—finally a way to calm the voices and let me sleep. It's not safe for Kagome to be here; I know what these men are capable of. I'd written to my aunt that perhaps she could go live with her, but I was told that the fighting is too intense in that area and travel is unsafe. The best I could do was to pay a couple of the whores to look after her. When the fighting ebbs, I'll send her away. If anyone tries to hurt her, I'll kill him. And if she comes to harm, I'll kill myself.

 

There was no more. With shaking hands, Kagome set the papers down and extinguished the lamp. She crawled onto the filthy bed and hugged her knees to her chest. Curled up, she closed her eyes and tried to make sense of the words she had just read.