InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seemingly Insignificant ❯ The Villager ( Chapter 1 )

Seemingly Insignificant

 

1: The Villager

 

Another day, another demon.

 

This routine seemed to have been imbibed in generations of families living in this cursed village. In the Great War the demons wage on each other, intensified further more by the breaking and scattering of the Sacred Jewel, we villagers are caught in the middle: innocent pawns in the great fight for power that the demons play. Everyday our hard-earned and meticulously cultivated lands are soaked in the acidic saliva and black blood of countless demons, leaving their cursed mark on the land forever, rendering it completely infertile. But even that is minor as compared to the mindless slaughter of human beings, the heart-wrenching separation and death that plagued millions of villagers' families' lives…

 

It was a sorry existence for the common villager, like me.

 

I woke up that particular morning with a feeling that weighed more than the usual despair and apprehension. The day belied my emotions; the morning was beautiful: the golden sunshine shone brightly down on the lush landscape; rolling golden fields of wheat that would instill pride in the hearts of any farmer stretched for what seemed like miles; a gentle, soothing breeze blew, promising lovely weather for the rest of the day; the birds chirped cheerfully. It was very beautiful; awe-inspiring.

 

It was as if Nature was doing Her best to make up for the carnage we witnessed the previous night.

 

As I got ready for the day's work, memories of that battle rushed back into my mind, causing a shudder to travel up my spine. A group of vicious demons, having just acquired a shard of the Sacred Jewel, had decided to test out their enhanced powers by (take a guess) slaughtering the people in my village. When it seemed that the blood-fest would never stop; that the generations of villagers who had held up the principles and honour of this village would finally come to an end, this… half-demon and his friends had come along. And…

 

“Hey!”

 

I looked up to see one of my fellow farmers waving excitedly at me, and nearly tripping over his own feet in his enthusiasm to converse. I sighed. There was the proverbial village idiot, the gullible simpleton who was easily influenced by anybody who was even marginally better than him. And they weren't hard to find, obviously.

 

“Hey, hey,” he panted, finally coming to a stop in front of me. I just stared at him coldly while he caught his breath, but that didn't seem to deter his enthusiasm. He flashed a bright smile before he began to speak.

 

“Did you see that amazing battle yesterday? I mean, all those, um, scary demons, there must have been millions of them, I guess… but I'm only talking figuratively you know, I mean, I couldn't really count them, because I might have been killed…” He laughed weakly.

 

Wish you were. I said coldly, “Oh?”

 

He nodded with the pathetic eagerness of a little child. “Yes. And then, in front of all those horrible demons, this half-demon and his friends, all of them making a strange looking group, no doubt, defeating all those demons single-handedly, and, and, I just can't imagine a half-demon being so powerful, or a strangely dressed priestess, or a monk, or fox-demon, or a female demon-slayer… You know what I mean? Maybe half-breeds and females are better than we thought… Or maybe not. I mean…”

 

I was finally spared from his mindless rambling by the call of another farmer, who was reprimanding (quite rightly) the simpleton for not attending to his duties diligently enough. I returned to my own work.

 

As I went about my morning toils, my mind once again drifted to the little group who had saved our village the day before. The half-demon, the breed we had scoffed so much had been extraordinarily powerful, with his amazing sword, and even more extraordinarily considerate about human life. Half-breeds or not, demons never gave a damn about us simple villagers, the real victims of this power race for the Sacred Jewel. But this particular hanyou… he had really surprised all of us with his true consideration for human lives. But even then…

 

I only wished he had shown the same consideration for my fields.

 

His `Windscar', the great power locked up within his gargantuan sword had burnt great portions of my wheat and corn to a crisp. Not only mine, but many others' as well. But one couldn't witness any sort of anger, or discontent in us. We were used to this; this was the way of life of a common villager in Feudal Japan.

 

I came to another area of my field which was not burnt, but rock-strewn and spotted with thin arrows jutting into the ground here and there. I remembered what, or rather, who had caused this: the monk and that strange young priestess. The black hole which had opened up in the monk's hand, which sucked in everything into its void… was truly something indescribable: a heady mixture of evil, and, strangely, a godsend, for it sucked in most of the demons that were threatening to devour us. Respect had immediately emanated from our ranks toward the monk, a wielder of such incredible power.

 

Then the strange beautiful priestess: she had been amazing, riding majestically on the cat-demon, shooting down the invaders with arrow after arrow… an angel, descended from the heavens… and so was that demon-slayer, with her enormous boomerang-like weapon, which brought down hordes of demons with deadly precision… their courage had shone like a beacon… faces so mesmerisingly beautiful…

 

I shook my head, hardening my heart and cursing myself for entering those courses of thought. I couldn't be like that simpleton, whose simple, easily-influenced nature threatened to make everyday that he lived his last. I had to be tough, alert; one false move, one uncalculated step, and I would be nothing more than demon-fodder.

 

Being a villager was not easy.

 

At that moment, screams of our village women pierced the air. The rancid smell of more demons hit my nose with a vengeance, and sweat broke out on my forehead. An attack… so early in the morning?!

 

I ran into my modest home, grabbing the sword that I kept hidden under my pillow for just such moments. My wife ran inside as well, collapsing into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The sense of despair and apprehension reached a crescendo within my heart as I grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, trying to console her. My wife never lost control of her emotion like this; something terrible must have happened.

 

Finally, when she had gained enough control to string a few words into a coherent sentence, she gasped, “Oh God, my son…” and she started sobbing again.

 

My heart dropped to my feet. My son… my only son… what had happened to him? I desperately wanted to know… only if she would stop crying and tell me… Finally I lost my patience. I shook her hard. “Come on, woman, tell me!” I bellowed. “What has happened to our son?”

 

She stared at me in surprise, her grieving eyes glazed by a fine layer of tears. “Our- our son…” she swallowed, and spoke the dreaded words. “… is dead.”

 

I sat down on the bed, too dumbstruck to do anything else. My wife continued, fighting back a fresh torrent of tears, “He was- was playing in the outskirts with the other children when-when the d-demons attacked, and, and, and they were all killed… Oh, my baby!”

 

Sobs racked her body once more.

 

I dragged my mind out of the astonishment and grief it was suspended in. I tried to sort out my feelings- a crushing sense of resignation at the inevitability following a demon attack, which was just proved by my wife's words, dumb grief, painful shards of denial that seemed to have wedged itself into my chest… all these fought for domination over my heart. A fog drove over my eyes, and I felt myself lost in the black void of mindless sadness… when a single fact burst out in startling clarity.

 

The fog cleared.

 

I grabbed my sword and moved resolutely out of the house. My wife recovered long enough to call after me, implore me not to go, but I let her plaintive call go unheeded. The demons were responsible for my son's death. And for that, they would have to pay.

 

With death.

 

That fact alone drove me on, through the carnage.

 

Half the village was on fire; the demons were running rampant, creating havoc everywhere. Tides of innocent villagers ran this way and that, trying desperately to evade death at the hands of those demons. Corpses littered the ground and the sight would have been sickening, were it not for my will to carry out the singular purpose: kill those demons.

 

As I broke into a run, sighting more of the demons ahead of me, I tripped over a corpse on the ground, landing sprawling on the rock-strewn round. Cursing viciously, I got up to see who in hell it was- and my eyes widened. It was the village simpleton. His torso had been torn open by claws from collar to navel- he was clearly dead. Strangely enough, his eyes were still open, empty, showing signs of some numb surprise at the death that had claimed him.

 

I almost felt sorry for him. The fellow had been happy while he had lived- always hoping, always optimistic, and simple… only to be betrayed by those very feelings. I shook my head and continued on my morbid quest.

 

One of those demons turned when it heard me coming; its fangs bared in an evil grin and acid-saliva dripped from its mouth, which was stained black-red by the blood of countless human lives.

 

And my son.

 

My eyes flaring with anger and an animal growl emanating from my throat, I charged at it, my sword at the ready. Memories of all those villagers, not only from my village, but from other villages as well, whose lives had been rudely taken away from them by these heinous demons only incensed me in my charge. Sure, there were some who were good, some who truly cared to save human lives, like the group which had shown up the previous night, but…

 

There just wasn't enough like them in the world.

 

My sword drove into the demon's thigh; it didn't even flinch. Instead, it brushed me aside with its claws, almost uninterestedly. I got to my feet and turned to face it again, when it swooped down me, trapping me between its bloody jaws, and started closing its mouth while I struggled.

 

As my body was slowly, inexorably crushed between the monster's jaws, I could only pray- pray that one day humans would be valued more, where people like villagers could live in peace, where mindless killing was not rampant… Oh, if only that day could come…

 

Blinding, white-hot pain resounded through my body as the monster clamped down harder. Darkness, that blessed precursor to oblivion, slipped in and out of my blurred vision. And finally…

 

Death claimed me.