InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ The Insult in Honor ( Chapter 17 )

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

 

 

Chapter Seventeen: The Insult in Honor

 

 

“Oi, old man,” a short, unkempt man with greasy, bound hair called out loudly from the dusty path in front of the porch. Taking the tai youkai's lack of response as an invitation, he quickly strolled onto the porch and slapped the demon hard on the shoulder in greeting. The man's dirty, calloused hand lingered as he grinned broadly, his eyes closing into thin slits. Puzzled at the audacity, Sesshoumaru looked over at the offending appendage, tempted to remove it in a rather permanent fashion. Stepping back at the glare he had provoked with his gesture, the man feigned indifference as he withdrew his hand to casually rub the non-existent tickle on his nose. “How have you been old man? Is the old lady home as well? Oh, there she is. How are you doing, ma'am? Is your back still bothering you?”

 

“What do you want?” the youkai lord interrupted, his voice hard and unwelcoming.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” the man replied quickly and began to fidget nervously as he scanned the area around the porch. Finding no one, but himself and the seemingly old man standing in the doorway in front of him, he wrung his hands and let his sight settle back on the tai youkai, a smile growing on his weathered face. “Well, there's one thing. I need to borrow something. You know, from one neighbor to another.”

 

The demon's eyes narrowed on the man before him and his nails dug into the door handle he still held, curls of wood shavings falling to the floor as his claws scraped. “What is it that you desire, human?”

 

“Just that dog of yours,” the neighbor answered nonchalantly, pointing casually into the house at the white animal, now held protectively in Kagome's arms. “I've got a rodent problem out in my field that I need to take care of. I'll bring it back this evening.”

 

“And why should I permit this?” Sesshoumaru asked in a measured tone, keeping his rising anger in check.

 

“Well, you don't want to be un-neighborly, now do you?” the neighbor snapped edgily, uncomfortable with the incessant line of questioning. “You and the missus are getting on in age and with no children and the coming winter, you don't want to offend the only friend you got, do you? It'd be a shame if something happened to the two of you, because you didn't want to share. Now just lend me the damn dog.”

 

The youkai lord stared down at the small, burly man before him. He stared at his body bent from years of laboring in the fields. He stared at the coarse weave of his gray, sweat-stained clothes, ragged and covered in patches. He stared at his bare feet, rough and scarred from years of working without sandals. He stared at the pitifulness and the desperation and he understood why. Why the old man lent that which was most precious to him. Why he believed in another so unworthy of trust. It was the same compassion and generosity that allowed him to cherish and honor a simple dog. It offered only one option to such a person. The old man, no matter how rude and cruel the neighbor had been in the past or present, would lend him his greatest treasure, as he truly was too kind to refuse. He, Sesshoumaru, however, was not the old man and if he was one thing, he was not kind.

 

“Look, I'm gonna bring him back tonight, so I don't see what your damn problem is. It's only a stupid, mangy dog,” the neighbor spoke sharply, growing impatient under the harsh, penetrating glares and quiet tongue of the man in front of him. The tai youkai clenched his jaw at the words, his teeth pressing hard against each other, the pressure seemingly tempting them to fracture. He wanted to rend the man. Shred him slowly with his claws, each scream of agony smoothing away the growing cracks creeping across his cool façade, born from the mounting anger that churned beneath the surface. Then burn away the bloody filth with his poison, purging the world of the wretchedness. He wanted the man gone and more than anything he wanted this dilemma gone. This choice he had to make. In any other moment, in any other time, he would have done that. Violence had always served him well when any other diplomacy seemed pointless or at times, dull. Now though, something intangible stayed his claws and dried up his poison. It kept his brutal whims at bay and despite all of his power and strength; he could do nothing, but watch. Honor as it was, always comes first.

 

“Sesshoumaru-sama?” Kagome called out behind him, still sitting behind Shiro, her arms wrapped around his soft chest. The dog tipped his head back at her words, his cool, wet nose seeking her cheek and he bathed what he could with his long, pink tongue. “I know what you said about reckless compassion and I meant it when I said I wanted to change, but are we really going to let that man take Shiro? Are we going to let him kill him?”

 

Sesshoumaru broke away his stare from the neighbor to look back over his shoulder at the miko and at his great-grandsire she held firmly in her embrace. The dog retreated in his assault of affection on Kagome and returned the tai youkai's troubled eyes with his own warm, amber ones.

 

“What is it that you wish for, Shiro-sama?” Sesshoumaru spoke softly. “Honor only permits me one path. Is it your desire to follow it?”

 

Shiro stood quickly, easily breaking his captor's hold and answered with a loud bark, pride and eagerness teeming in its single syllable. The youkai lord sighed faintly, still feeling angry and lost, but now more than before, he felt powerless as he returned his sight back on the neighbor.

 

“The dog will go with you,” the demon said slowly, each word heavier than the last. The man grinned in response and rummaged through a sleeve of his haori coat.

 

“Do we have to?” Kagome asked quietly, sniffing and wiping at her watering eyes that were making good on their threat to overflow. Weakly, she rubbed the dog's thick coat of fur, giving him one last pat. Shiro turned gently and lapped at her face, drying it of the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

 

“To deny him his fate is to dishonor the sacrifice he made,” the tai youkai replied finally. “There is no greater insult.” The school girl sat for a while, considering his words before she nodded and hugged the dog as she rested her head against his warm body.

 

“Good-bye Shiro,” she whispered into his ear and with a hard squeeze, she released her grip. The dog took a few steps away and looked back, sending her a soft, rumbling bark and then padded over to the youkai lord's side.

 

“Are you ready, Shiro-sama?” Sesshoumaru asked gently of the dog that had paused by him. Shiro stared down at the waiting man at the end of the porch who had found the cruel tangle of rope he had been seeking a moment earlier. Then with ease, he trotted through the proffered gap in the doorway and down to the neighbor. Quickly, the man tied the rope around the dog's neck, tightening it until its noose was completely hidden by the thick, white fur.

 

“Let's go, dog,” the man said once he was satisfied and jerked the leash hard as he moved to walk away. No yelp escaped Shiro's lips and he swiftly kept up with the neighbor's rushed pace as they climbed the hill towards the field and small orchard on the man's land.

 

“Is that it?” Kagome murmured, wearily pulling herself to her feet. “Do we just wait for it to happen?” He glanced back at the miko with her red, swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks.

 

“I have done my duty,” Sesshoumaru replied, stepping out into the bright, gray, midday light. “What happens now is not my concern.”

 

“That's all it is? A duty?” she called out after him, her voice seething and wavering in anger as she chased him out to the doorway.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How can it only be duty? He's your family.”

 

“It simply is. I did what was honorable and now I will leave. What he does now is not my responsibility.”

 

“You want to talk about honor? He was honorable. He died for that old couple. He died for your clan. And he died for you. How is it not your concern what happens to him now?”

 

“Miko, know your place,” he warned from the bottom of the porch, sending her a piercing glare.

 

“No, I will not,” she exclaimed, storming up to him, returning his intimidating look with one of her own. “That is your great-grandsire marching to his death over that hill. Your blood tied to a rope being forced to dig his own grave. The least you could do is watch.”

 

“Your opinion has no weight here. You are not of my clan. You do not understand it,” he said slowly and coolly, but with a voice edged and sharp.

 

“Oh, I understand it,” she answered with a bitter laugh. “I've seen how your clan works, how you treat family. You forget who I've been traveling with for so long. Inuyasha had to fight for everything, struggling to survive in a world where he didn't fit in, being neither human nor youkai. The only place where he could have called home is this stupid clan with his asshole of a brother. But where were you? Huh? I think you were exactly where you are now, making it not your concern.”

 

In a flash of white and red, a hand gripped her throat, the pricking of nails at her neck. “You will quiet your tongue about things you know nothing of,” he bit out, squeezing harder as she gulped for air. He felt it, cushioning against his grip. The same barrier like with the bear from the Kintaro legend.

 

“If it wasn't true,” she whispered hoarsely between gasps, gripping his striped wrist with her hands, “Why weren't you there to protect him, to give him a home. Why aren't you on that hill truly honoring Shiro by witnessing his end?”

 

“A cursed clan such as this deserves no better,” he answered lowly and sourly. She looked up into his eyes, her own burning from the choking vice of his claws. His once angry glare was now broken, his golden depths adrift. Gently, he released her and she fell into a heap, coughing and sputtering as her fingers ghosted over where his hand had held her so tightly. He stared down at her crumpled form on the dusty ground for a moment and then pivoted away, walking down the hard, dirt road towards the town.

 

 

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The world drifted by the tai youkai as he traveled, his mind idling absently around his clan, around his history. How could something that was such a source of pride for him as a youkai enrage him so? And why wouldn't this feeling of anger die? Why couldn't he bury it? It was so easy to bury it before.

 

He leapt off the road, seeking the nearby forest and its trees to burn away his brimming frustration. Under the leafless boughs the youkai lord strolled, flexing his claws, searching for a suitable quarry. Finding a thick tree to his liking, he moved into a sprint, preparing his strike. As he closed the distance, he watched his nails glide through the air as they neared the bark of his victim. Suddenly, he retracted his hand and twisted away, coming to a rustling stop as he slid through the fallen leaves at his ankles. He looked at his hand in disgust. His claws, his stripes, his poison, his clothes, his hair, his pelt, his face; everything reminded him of his clan. There was nothing about him that wasn't the embodiment of his resentment.

 

“Find it, you stupid dog!” a distant voice yelled, breaking the demon from his thoughts. He focused his hearing, listening carefully as his feet unconsciously carried him toward the sound. Approaching the edge of a clearing, he peered through the few bushes that still held their leaves.

 

“Dig deeper!” the man yelled into a hole at the base of a tree. Hidden just beneath the rim was a hint of white and behind it, a furious plume of earth being thrust into the air. Abruptly the soil stopped flying and the dirty form of a dog leapt out of the pit. “You're not finished, dog. There's no treasure there. Get back down and finish.”

 

Shiro looked up at him, his legs and chest caked with mud and maw open as he panted, a grin stretched across his muzzle. The smell of rot and decay wafted up from the hole as a green liquid bubbled and popped as it pooled at the bottom.

 

“Not again,” the neighbor cried out as he fell to his knees, coughing and retching on the ground from the revulsion. “Why do you do this every time? Why don't you just give me what I want? What I deserve. Why should those two pathetic, old people get gold? They gave all of their food, all of their best possessions; they gave everything to a damn dog. It doesn't make sense.”

 

Shiro stared down at his kneeling body, tempted to nuzzle him in compassion, but as he moved forward, the man struck out, his fist nearly grazing him. “I don't need your pity, you filthy beast. I just need the gold. Everything would be better if I just had money.” The man looked up at Shiro, his eyes wild. “You could go home. Live happily with them. Never have to die. Never have to watch over them from afar. Be together forever.”

 

The dog hung his head and looked back in the direction of the dilapidated hovel belonging to the old couple. His eyes wandered over to their weed choked field and broken fence. He stared at their poverty and their need and then with a good shake, sending mud and debris through the air, he returned his gaze back to the man and held his head up high and defiantly.

 

“You bring this on yourself, dog,” he spat out coldly as he stood up and reached for his shovel. “You force me to do it. I have no choice.” Slowly, he raised the spade into the air, gathering his strength. Shiro looked away from the man, his eyes settling on the youkai lord hidden in the trees. Their gaze caught and after a moment and with a slight nod of acceptance, the dog closed his eyes. A breeze caressed him, ruffling his short fur as the world fell silent. Then he was gone with a sharp crack of metal as the shovel struck.

 

His limp body fell to the ground without a yelp and tumbled lifelessly into the hole. The neighbor stood over the pit, his body shaking and the spade dropped with a soft thud onto the ground. A silver blur shot out of the forest, seizing the man by his throat, raising him high into the air.

 

“You will regret your actions, wretched human waste,” Sesshoumaru said slowly and harshly, barely concealing his rage. He could feel the unseen pressure pressing against his hand as he constricted. “This Sesshoumaru is glad for this barrier that protects your life, for it is the torture that you live through that hurts most.” A shadow approached the tai youkai as he stood contemplating his next action and silver hair not his own waved into the corner of his eye.

 

“You've done well, pup,” a deep, warm voice called out next to him as a clawed hand with a three-striped wrist came to rest on his forearm, “It's nice to know my clan has gotten wiser over time.”

 

 

A/N: A few people have been asking me about this fairy tale. This is a real fairy tale and not one that I made up. It's called “The Old Man Who Could Make Withered Trees Bloom”. The only part I changed was the very ending where Shiro becomes a youkai. I'm happy that so many people like it as my choice for Sesshoumaru's family history. I was really nervous about it. When you think about it, Clan of Shiro sounds pretty cool.