InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ Shiro ( Chapter 16 )

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

 

 

Chapter Sixteen: Shiro

 

 

“Sh-shiro-sa-sama?” Kagome exclaimed, her voice nearly screeching in surprise.

 

“Yes;” the tai youkai replied, breaking his stare to close his eyes and raise his hand to his forehead, his fingers and thumb seeking to soothe his temples.

 

“You actually call someone, sama?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well, what?” he replied, peering down at her from behind his hand.

 

“Who is he?”

 

“He is,” he began, his gaze shifting to the dog who had since leaned forward into a slightly ridiculous position to scratch at his ear with a rapid kicking of his hind leg, “my great-grandsire.”

 

“Him?” the school girl nearly shrieked again, unable to hide her incredulity. The dog yawned wide at her reaction and gave her as much as a dog could, a look of utter indifference. She blinked twice at the unexpected expression, not quite believing what she was seeing. “I guess I can see the family resemblance.”

 

“Such observations are not necessary,” Sesshoumaru responded, sending her a glare that made her breath catch.

 

`He was definitely less intimidating when he could sit on my shoulder,' she thought, gulping at the knot of dread that swelled in her throat. Once again, he returned his sight to the dog who had since taken to sitting back on his haunches lazily, waiting for some yet to be named event to occur. “How can he be your great-grandsire? This is just a fairy tale, isn't it? It's not real. They're stories with lessons and morals, meant to guide people. They didn't actually happen.”

 

“Miko, are you attempting to tell this Sesshoumaru that his family history is a figment of his imagination?”

 

“We-well, I-I, mean,” she stuttered, gesturing with her hand hesitantly, hopelessly hoping to retrieve her foot from her mouth, “It's just that, tiny, little boys aren't born to elderly couples and if they are, they don't travel up rivers in rice bowls and battle bandits. Just like there wasn't a boy who lived in the forest and had woodland friends whom he wrestled with. They're just stories about courage and strength. About honor. Nothing more.”

 

“I had thought the same, but it seems to not be the case. Regardless of that, after the many things you have seen in your stay in a time of demons and magic, how is it that you believe these stories to be solely fictional? Lacking even the barest hint of truth.”

 

“I just,” she began and then sighed, “I just never thought they could be real, even the barest hint. They're just supposed to be fables to guide people to do what was right and to warn people from doing what was wrong.”

 

“Hn.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, what?”

 

“What's the story of your family? I don't recognize this tale. It seems familiar though.” He sighed long and hard, startling the school girl at the expressiveness and the strange weight that shadowed behind it.

 

“Do you remember how a youkai comes into being?” he answered finally, lowering his hand from his head to look directly at her.

 

“Uh, you said that youkais were either born from other demons, like humans or they were aspects of nature that gained a strong will and simply came into a higher existence through that.” The youkai lord nodded slightly and the school girl sighed happily, grateful that he seemed to be pleased enough with her definition to not correct her.

 

“Shiro was a loyal dog who was honored and loved by an elderly, human couple,” he began and then stopped, the words feeling strange on his tongue. At that moment, the tai youkai realized that he had never told this story before, not even to Inuyasha. It was such a major part of his heritage, of his lineage, but it angered him to even think about it. He absently flexed his claws into a fist, his nails biting into his skin.

 

“Okay…” the school girl remarked, her face puzzled as she waited patiently. His eyes turned away from hers to land on Shiro, whose triangular ears had perked forward with interest, his amber eyes unwavering as he returned the gaze. It was a story, an important story and it deserved to be told. And despite how he felt about the past, he wasn't one to allow his emotions to control him, even when it was anger.

 

“The couple had no children and lavished all of their attention and love on the great, white dog. They had very little food, but the best of what they had always went to him,” he began once more, sure of himself. “In return, he guarded them and protected them. It was still not enough for all they had provided and Shiro sought to reward them with what they lacked the most.

 

One day, he called to the old man and took him out to a tree on their land. There he dug, loosening the soil and revealed a chest filled with gold. The old man loved and admired Shiro for his wondrous gift, but all the while he was ignorant of his envious neighbor hidden in the trees nearby. Later, the neighbor came to the old man, asking to borrow Shiro for the day. The old man thought this odd, as the neighbor had often tried to hit or hurt the dog. He was however too kind of a man to refuse and allowed the neighbor to take Shiro.

 

The neighbor tied Shiro to a rope and dragged him to a tree, demanding a chest of gold as well. The dog could not find such a gift for so cruel a person, but was forced to dig regardless. His claws found a slurry of foulness instead, nearly causing the neighbor retch from the odor. Angry and finding the fault of his own greed in the dog, he struck him, killing Shiro and buried him quickly in the hole beneath the tree.

 

The old man came to the neighbor several days later, worried over what had happened to Shiro as he had not returned yet. The neighbor remorselessly confessed to killing him for not giving him what he wanted. The old man wept at the loss and sought to honor Shiro even in death. He asked the neighbor for the tree and at such a small request, the neighbor could find no reason to refuse.

 

The old man chopped the tree down and carried its trunk back to his home. There he chipped out a mortar of which he and his wife intended to pound out rice for a festival in honor of Shiro. His desire to reward and to protect the loyal couple for their faithfulness to him only grew after his death and as they ground out the rice, they found that the quantity they put in increased tenfold as they worked. They tasted the overflowing rice and found it tastier than any they had eaten before.

 

Hearing of the mortar of never-ending rice, the neighbor's greed and envy returned and he came to the couple asking to borrow the mortar. Expressing sorrow over the loss of Shiro as well, the old man easily gave the neighbor the mortar to borrow, unable to refuse as he was too kind. The neighbor swiftly took the mortar home and pounded out his rice, but instead of rice, the same foulness that bubbled from the hole beneath the tree before now brimmed within the wooden bowl. Angered, he threw the mortar into the fireplace, burning it to ash.

 

Later that night, the old man came to the neighbor at his home, asking for the mortar to be returned. The neighbor heartlessly gestured to the fire, saying he burned it for when he tried to use it, it produce a putridness that offended him. Saddened once again, the old man asked for the ashes, so that he may have something to remember Shiro by. The neighbor easily consented and the old man gathered the ashes into a bag.

 

As he returned home, a few of the ashes spilled and the fruit trees which had blossomed in spring and now had long since lost their leaves in autumn, burst into flower once more. The final gift from Shiro, who was so adored and honored by the old couple. The old man soon spread the ashes throughout the land, earning respect and love from the people and gifts of gold and silver from the lord. The envious neighbor angered again at the old couple's fortune, gathered the few ashes still remaining in his fireplace and professed to be far better at restoring trees, calling the other an impostor. To the lord he went to show his abilities, wanting the gold and silver the old man had received. The ashes though, gave no life to the dead trees and the evil neighbor was locked away for his deceit, finally punished for all of the cruelty he had committed.

 

Shiro's soul and will to protect the old couple though did not die with their growing prosperity and fame for their ability to raise withered trees into the health and vigor of spring. Years after they perished in luxury, he came into being, as a youkai.”

 

“He became a youkai?”

 

“Yes. An unimaginably powerful, tai youkai. His lineage, the clan of Shiro, hold their true forms as great, white dogs who control poison as in the story, to punish those who dishonor them. On their robes they wear the floral crest, the symbol of Shiro's greatest gift to the old couple and the world.”

 

“A-And, you're from the Shiro clan?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“As is Inuyasha.”

 

“And he's the Shiro?”

 

“Despite how mild his scent is, this Sesshoumaru cannot be mistaken.”

 

“Everything else in this world is an illusion, I mean,” she remarked, not really liking where she was taking this conversation as the likelihood of her coming out of it unscathed was rather dubious, but she couldn't let it lie. “We haven't found anyone in this story that was real. Maybe he's a representation, as the princess was or the emperor.”

 

“No, he is the one.”

 

Kagome sighed and rubbed her hands over her once white sleeves. The adrenalin and warmth of her run a few minutes before had worn off and the nip of the autumnal wind began to make itself known through the thin cotton of her sailor top. She looked at the sun bleached gray wood of the small hovel and the dark plume of smoke emerging from the opening in the roof, the promise of a warm fire beckoning her from within.

 

“Whatever the case,” she said, stepping onto the porch, “I'm going to see if anyone is home. You two can have your staring contest out here in the cold, but I'm going somewhere warm.”

 

“There is no one in there.”

 

“Really? Maybe they stepped out”, she replied thoughtfully, mentally debating just how rude it would be to sneak into a conjured person's house to sit by their fireplace.

 

“We are the ones who are meant to live here. You are the old woman and I, the old man.”

 

“Oh?” she responded in mild surprise and then paused to look down at the white dog near her feet, “Is it okay for me to go in, Shiro?” At her question, the dog quickly rose and stood by her legs, his head easily coming up to her waist. Lightly, he nosed the door, pushing it sideways to open and trotted inside. A gentle wave of warm air cushioned itself against her body, drawing a smile of contentment from her lips. “Are you coming?” she asked, turning her head to face the demon lord who had yet to move.

 

He remained quiet, his expression blank, but faintly she could see his jaw still set and nearly hidden by the sleeve of the haori, his clenched fist. As the image of him rooting himself there like a tree crossed her mind, the tai youkai stepped forward casually, brushing past her. Letting out a sigh of relief, the school girl slid the door shut.

 

The quaint, little house was even smaller than it appeared on the outside as Kagome found out by nearly stumbling into the fire pit as she turned around to come in after closing the door. Steadying herself after she gracelessly managed to avoid her fate with first-degree burns, she looked around the dark room, lit only by the orange glow of the fire and the filtered sunlight coming down through the smoke from the hole in the ceiling. Around the fire pit nestled on the hard-packed, dirt floor was a raised wooden platform. Boxes and crates of various sizes were stacked neatly on it and a set of folded, thin futons leaned against the gray, soiled walls. Shiro had since curled up happily on a noticeably nicer futon near the fire, dozing softly. In the far corner, stood the youkai lord, the light dancing in his golden, eyes, giving off a beautiful, yet eerie glow. His expression, while often bored or indifferent, seemed strangely vacant and adrift.

 

“Are you all right?” she asked timidly. Unhearing, he remained silent and lost, watching the white dog as he slept. “Sesshoumaru-sama?”

 

“Yes?” he replied finally, his vision drifting up to the slender form of the woman and her worried look.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“It is not for you to be concerned with, miko,” he said after a pause, shifting from his position to go look at a particular mud encrusted chest sitting conspicuously next to the fire. He stood over it, staring at it in silence. Then carefully, he unlatched the metal fasteners and lifted the heavy, wood lid.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Gold,” he replied quietly, hiding his sigh as he leaned back to allow the approaching miko to see. Stunned, her mouth dropped open at the glinting, metal coins piled within the box.

 

“Is this the treasure that Shiro dug up in the fairy-, I mean, in your family story?” Kagome asked in a whisper, hoping that her slip of the tongue was less offending than he might take it. A loud bark from behind her was her answer, as Shiro stood up proudly and padded over to them to inspect as well. “Did you find this Shiro?” she asked the dog happily when he arrived, scratching his head and behind his ear, much to his pleasure.

 

“It will begin soon,” Sesshoumaru remarked, his voice stiff and still quiet.

 

“What will?” she asked absently as she rubbed the dog's chest, her fingers delighting in the soft fur. Her ministrations stopped suddenly as a thought settled in her mind. “You don't mean--?”

 

A rough knock pounded on the door, its abruptness rippling the peaceful atmosphere within the small room. They stood for a moment staring at the empty door and the heavy, menacing presence that waited impatiently on the other side. Stepping gracefully around the miko and Shiro, the youkai lord approached the door and grasped the shallow handle firmly, sliding it open with ease.