InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ The Harder Path ( Chapter 22 )

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

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Harder Path

 

 

The gray, innocuous smoke of a cooking fire billowed gently from the roof of an old, weather beaten house. Barely more than a shack, the faded wood of its walls and roof were splintered by the endless decay from the unhurried touch of apathy and time. Around the worn foundation and through the thin porch, the pale ribbons of sparse grass crinkled in the faint breeze. The hollow emptiness of the neighbor's house seemed to leak from its cracks, sapping the already desolate world around it of even the whispers of life.

 

Nearby, under the scant shade of a leafless, cherry tree, the white and crimson figure of the youkai lord waited. He leaned lightly against the smooth trunk, his sharp nails teasing away at the papery bark as he observed the hovel absently. His sight drifted away on occasion, often settling on his own clothing where he marveled at how the vibrancy of the red, blue and gold that accented it seemed to fade with every barren moment he spent near the house.

 

Sesshoumaru couldn't remember the last time he had ever waited for anything. As a powerful tai youkai, he simply sought what he wanted, the only barrier being not knowing where it might be. The act of waiting was just never an issue. He was quick though to remind himself that there was a difference between waiting and having patience. Patience was a skill he held in droves. Any warrior, no matter his strength, wouldn't remain alive for long without some measure of it. As impatience often leads to ignorance and that alone has led even the mightiest to their demise. `Regardless,' he thought silently as he meticulously cleaned the dirt and debris of the tree bark from his claws with a few deft scrapes of his thumbnail, `It has been a long time since I have waited.'

 

A strange, tingling sensation crept into the back of the youkai's mind, setting him on alert. No sound came to his ears and no scent to his nose, but that second sense ingrained in every man of the sword whispered to him, telling him that he was indeed not alone.

 

“Shiro-sama,” he called out, his tone far from questioning and the warm answering chuckle proving far from surprising.

 

“My skills must be slipping,” the old lord commented as he came to stand next to his great-grandpup. “Too many years wasting away here, I suppose.” The young lord glanced at the comparatively simply robed demon next to him and gave a soft snort.

 

“I would not consider completely concealing one's heartbeat or youki as “slipping”, my lord,” he scoffed, hiding the begrudging edge that threatened to slip into his voice. He did not miss the brief, fanged grin that his response had elicited either.

 

“Observant, pup,” Shiro remarked warmly, affectionately clapping the young lord across the shoulders, ignoring the scowl it drew from his lips. “Although, I expect nothing less from you, it is often the case that inside or outside of the scroll, few take the time to watch, to scent, to listen and to think.” Sesshoumaru regarded his great-grandsire in silence, suspiciously sorting through the apparent compliment before the demon's next comment wrenched him away. “How different you are from your father.”

 

“I am not the son who resembles him,” the young tai youkai answered slowly and rigidly, his thoughts stolen by his great-grandsire's words and their obvious implications.

 

“So, it would seem,” Shiro chuckled in response, running his free hand through his silver hair. “He was a brash pup, both arrogant and angry. Not particularly uncommon for most who have made the journey. It took several well-aimed smacks with a stick to get that one to listen when only a few words managed the same with you.”

 

“I admit my father tended to be overly confident and occasionally an emotional man, but I can hardly believe he would be so foolhardy and insolent to strike at you, the lord of our clan.”

 

“Matters of the heart and the soul can affect even the most disciplined of warriors, pup. A swordsman or an army is easy to fight. Your enemies are your enemies and he who is better with the blade or has the most luck on his side will win. Simple. A curse however, is a far more powerful thing, especially when shame is concerned. How insidious our minds can be, spoiling us without even drawing a sword. He though, like you, made the same decision and chose the same fate. The harder path of pride and honor.”

 

“I noticed his change, but he died in battle soon after and before I could learn the reason.”

 

A familiar acrid scent saturated the air, abruptly ending the conversation and drawing the demons' attention to the old house before them. Muffled by the thin walls, the neighbor's voice rang out in a string of expletives and a moment later the harmless, gray smoke emerging from the roof turned black and menacing.

 

“My final gift awaits you,” Shiro spoke quietly, his eyes not leaving the growing, thick smoke clinging heavily in the air. He slipped his hand into the opening of his robe above the sash and withdrew the empty bag he had used to carry the mortar earlier. Casually, he handed it to Sesshoumaru. “With it you shall be free, at least of this story.”

 

“Is there not a lord with withered trees that I must cure as in the poem and our history?” Sesshoumaru asked, mildly perplexed as he took the proffered sack, securing it in his obi.

 

“There is only one lord here, pup,” Shiro remarked with a grin and deepening the young lord's curiosity. His smile quickly took on a mischievous quality when he noticed his great-grandpup's single, furrowed brow and unusually rapt interest. Then he whispered as if revealing a long, withheld secret to the light of day. “It is the way with all forgotten relics, products of the heavens or not, that their magic will not last forever. It will inevitably begin to fade. And as it does here, my power grows, seeking the flaws of the weakening magic and fracturing and reshaping the will of a god.”

 

“You removed the human lord from the story,” Sesshoumaru said after a pause, finally understanding what the crafty, old tai youkai was hinting at. “You are able to change the fairy tale.”

 

“Perhaps,” he replied noncommittally, “My old, human masters were meant to follow and be rewarded by the human lord of the land, but what could such a man give to the pups of the Clan of Shiro? What purpose would he serve that I am not already providing? This clan serves only one lord and one alone.”

 

“If you can rid your story of illusions, why not rid yourself of the neighbor as well? Simply speaking with any of the pups who travel through here should be enough to dispel the curse. Why subject yourself to that filth's whims?”

 

“It is possible,” Shiro answered reflectively, speaking to himself as much as to Sesshoumaru. “I have thought of doing it many times. Every time the cold spade strikes me. Every time the hot fire burns my mortar. Every time he insults my sacrifice and honor for the sake of his own self-pity and despair. Often, I want to dissolve him back to the nothingness from where he was spawned. But even so, it is with that waste of a man, not unlike the waste of a god he resembles that my strength and my resolve dwell. Can one truly exist in this barren place without some obstacle to overcome? Some enemy to vanquish? The hope of the arrival of a wayward pup searching for answers is not enough here. If being reduced to the weak form of a dog and being subjected to the pain of never ending deaths means I have a reason to fight, then I will take that pointless torture over the agonizing peace of loneliness.”

 

“If the magic continues to decay, you will be free one day.”

 

“Yes, I will crush this prison one day and defy the pathetic god that chained me here. Fifteen hundred years have passed and another fifteen hundred may still come, but I will break it and smell the sweet, honey scent of summer again. It is my hope, my dream that you, Sesshoumaru and the rest of my clan are there to greet me, because without you, there is no Clan of Shiro. Only Shiro and that is one torture that I could not bear.”

 

They stood quietly together, watching the black smoke continue to rise, marring the pale sky with its dark plume. The young lord stared at the old one expectantly from the corner of his eye, wondering if he had anymore secrets to divulge, but Shiro said nothing further. Eventually, he released Sesshoumaru's shoulders and turned away, strolling toward the elderly couple's house a short distance down the easy sloping hill. “I must fetch the young woman from her much needed rest. I will return shortly so that you both may be on your way.”

 

Once his great-grandsire was out of sight, the tai youkai returned his attention to the hovel. He took a step forward, noticing the hesitancy he felt before with the rice cakes was conspicuously absent in both his mind and actions. He smiled mildly at the return of his usual sureness. The gift was his and the wait was over.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A sudden, hard knock at his crooked door jarred the neighbor out of his frustrated anger and lament. He eyed the entrance suspiciously, knowing all too well who stood outside the threshold of his rundown home. Anxiously, he rose off of his comfortable seat near the dying embers of the hearth. His nose and lungs burned at the sickening odor that still reeked in the air and had only grown more pungent when he threw the revolting mortar into the fire. While he didn't look forward to the guest who waited patiently for him at the other side of his door, he did welcome the fresh air that would be accompanying him.

 

The neighbor jerked the sliding door open, kicking it free several times as it became lodged in the warped groove. The youkai lord looked down at the small, filthy man who was busily cursing at the obstinate door as he jammed it down the track. How inconsequential this oily, wretched human seemed to him now. He was so imposing and wicked before when the weight of the curse was set firmly on his shoulders, but now with it lifted, the man was nothing, only a pathetic creature drowning in his own envy and self-pity. The words of Shiro came to mind as Sesshoumaru stared at the neighbor in disgust. `That waste of a man, not unlike the waste of a god that he resembles.'

 

“Move,” the tai youkai ordered, his patience even more taxed by the revelation. He brushed past the man roughly and stepped through the narrow doorway into the house. Quickly, his eyes focused in on the dead fire in the center of the room and within it the gray, powdery ashes of the mortar.

 

“What do you think you're doing, old man?” the neighbor protested angrily, his thoughts no longer concerned with his broken door as he stared in shock at the figure now kneeling at his cooking hearth. “You need to ask for those ashes.”

 

“I will not ask for what is mine,” Sesshoumaru answered coldly, his customary glare acting to thoroughly silence the man and assure there were no further objections. Satisfied, he returned his attention to the blackened earth before him and the soft, white mounds cradled at the center. Gently, he scooped his hand into the pile, the delicate flakes still warm from the fire. Then he carefully dumped them into the open bag he had placed at his feet. Sweeping the remaining ashes together, he remolded the shrinking pile and scooped again. Repeating his motions several times, soon nothing remained, but the hard, dark ground. He lifted the surprisingly light bag, considering it for a moment and then stood up. With a proud and graceful ease, the youkai lord made his way through the unkempt house and paused a moment at the doorway, his cool, golden eyes catching the nervous man at his side.

 

“I can see now why Shiro-sama allows you to exist,” the tai youkai commented casually, indifferent to whether the neighbor was listening or not. “You are more than the purveyor of shame and torture in this empty world. You are more than the injustice that was leveled against him. You are more than the essence of the god that he battles every moment he is trapped here. You are the unexpected beacon that gives him purpose amid the senselessness. Because if he loses hope, if he loses his heart here, then he will become you and that I believe is what Susanou intended so many years ago. So live on wretched human, for you are not worth soiling my claws over.”

 

With that, Sesshoumaru left the house, stepping out into the pale light of the day. Under the naked boughs of the cherry tree stood the smiling Shiro and the yawning Kagome, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

 

“Are you ready, pup?”

 

“Yes,” the young lord answered, glancing at the filled sack in his hand.

 

“In some ways,” Shiro said wistfully, “This is the moment that makes it all bearable. A simple pleasure, really, but often those are the moments that make life worth living.”

 

“Hn,” he snorted in accession as he set the bag down on the ground, his hand seeking the opening. Cradling an ample amount of ash in his palm, the young youkai lord stepped towards the waiting tree and readied his arm.

 

“Shiro-sama,” the school girl spoke up with a smile and followed with a low bow. “Thank you for your words earlier and for your generosity. I hope one day you'll be free and able to take your place at the head of your clan.”

 

“Your welcome, Kagome-san,” he replied with a warm smile and his own bow. “Keep your spirit and find your strength, young one. You will need it. I cannot see beyond my own tale, but I do know that the trials that await both of you are ones far more difficult than either of you may imagine.”

 

Ashes showered into the air, sparkling silver as they floated over the skeletal branches of the cherry tree. Silence enveloped the group as the glittering dust dissipated, leaving the world unchanged.

 

“Is that it?” Kagome asked at a loss.

 

“Wait for it, young one.”

 

The sweet scent of sakura blossoms, faint at first, grew on the rising breeze. Then she spied one, a light green bud forming at the end of one of the thin tips of the fanning branches. Then another and another, as the tree swelled with brimming life, eager to burst open. When it seemed like no more buds could fill the weighted branches, they exploded open in a shower of vibrant blooms. Rich pinks and purples saturated the tree, drowning out the faded landscape around it. Speechless and enraptured, the three looked on the soft waves of flower blooms with a warm contentment filling their hearts.

 

Hidden in a crack in the trunk, something caught the young, tai youkai's eye drawing him away from the spectacle. Shiro watched him go to investigate with a smile and turned to the pretty, young woman at his side. The falling petals glittered pink in her reflecting eyes as she marveled at the richness and vibrancy she hadn't realized she missed. An idea caught in the old lord's mind and he shrugged in acquiescence. He really couldn't resist.

 

“Kagome-san?” he asked in a deep tone.

 

“Yes, Shiro-sama?” A warm hand slipped around her waist, dipping her back off her feet as she squeaked in surprise. Bending low, his intense, amber eyes sought her wide, sepia stare, stealing her shock and replacing it with a deep, rosy blush.

 

“You should know,” he whispered huskily, his breath sweet and hot against her cheeks. “I would die everyday, if it meant I could spend every night with you.” Her mouth moved helplessly as her words failed her. Then he moved in close, brushing his lips against hers teasingly, before taking them fully against his own in a deep kiss. His mouth moved against hers, guiding her lips with his as he slipped his tongue easily into her mouth, tasting her. She went limp in his arms, unable to hold a thought, let alone protest. Then as quickly as it had begun, it ended as he leaned back and grinned his fanged smile. “But then again, I die everyday anyways, so I suppose that would mean very little.”

 

“We shall meet again, Sesshoumaru,” the old lord called out to his great-grandpup as he set the numb Kagome as well as he could back on her feet. “Remember your pride and your honor. Remember what it truly means to give. If you do, then the curse will never claim you again.”

 

“I will look after the clan, Shiro-sama until you are with us again,” Sesshoumaru answered with a bow, holding a flat piece of wood in his hand. “And you will return to us for even a god cannot keep you away forever.”

 

Shiro smiled proudly and bowed. Then with a quick movement of his hand, he tossed his robe high into the air and strolled away, vanishing into nothingness.

 

The youkai lord looked on for a while before letting his gaze wander to the wooden seal in his hand. Engraved on the sanded plank was the kanji for tree and etched on the other side, the next lines of the poem.

 

“A bridge laden with serpent. Only the fearless may pass,” he said at length as the meaning of the characters came easily to his mind. He looked up at the quiet woman staring at nothing and frowned in annoyance. “Miko?”

 

He was answered with silence, only furrowing his brow. He called several more times, finally drawing her from her daze.

 

“Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama?”

 

“The poem.”

 

“Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I was just—“

 

“Indeed,” he interrupted and gestured to the seal he held in his hand. With a fresh flush on her cheeks, she walked over to the demon's side and peered at the writing on the wood.

 

“A king without hope. His children stolen by night. A hero must choose.”

 

“A palace beneath the waves. Of white marble and crystal.

 

“Fiery eyes wait. Slipping down from the mountains. Kiss of arrow slays.”

 

With the final words spoken, the seal shattered into blue, sparkling dust falling away from tai youkai's hand. A strange glow of morning light poured from the windows and the cracks in the door of the neighbor's house, beckoning them.

 

“Shall we?” Kagome asked softly.

 

Sesshoumaru nodded in agreement and together they went to the waiting house. Sliding it easily, the school girl opened the door and eagerly stepped into the bright light. Pausing a moment to look over his shoulder, the youkai lord looked back on the prison of his ancestor and smiled mildly. Then without any further thought, he stepped into the light as well.

 

 

A/N: Yay, the third tale is done. I hope you enjoyed this one. It was a lot of work to write and burned me out towards the end there. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who sends me comments and supports me. Well, onward to the next story, although I'm gonna miss Shiro…