InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ The Eight Forked Serpent ( Chapter 25 )

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

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Eight Forked Serpent

 

 

“Yamata-no-Orochi,” Kagome murmured in disbelief, her face fading to an ashen pall as she uttered the words. The Dragon King's insidious grin grew at her whispered doubt and she took several stumbling steps back until she met the familiar wall of silk and armor of the tai youkai. “You can't be him. You can't.”

 

“I cannot, eh?” he hissed with a mix of confidence and mock pity. “How tragic. It seems that you are already regretting, good lord. But, I can assure you that I am he, the Great Eight Forked Serpent of now ancient lore.” He paused a moment to slowly lick his lips, his black tongue slightly forked at the tip. “I am The Maiden Devourer.”

 

“But-but, Yamata-no-Orochi is only a myth. He never existed.”

 

“Is the god who created this prison only a myth as well?” he snarled, turning to face her fully as his aura flared up, rippling the walls of water surrounding him. “A brief nightmare this world would make if it were only conjured by the powers of imagination.” He raised a black clawed hand, cupping it slightly before suddenly wrenching it into a fist, nails biting into his tanned skin. “How fragile it would be if it were nothing more than a storyteller's whim.”

 

“Hn,” the nearly forgotten youkai lord snorted, his expression calm and emotionless except for the hard, unwavering glare he fixed upon the king. “I know of your legend, unnatural beast. Death was your ending. How is it that you live to be here in a story that is not your own?”

 

The king's eyes narrowed on the seemingly human peasant before him and they matched stares. Fierce and red pitted against cool and gold, studying one another as they measured themselves against the roiling power the other held just beneath the surface. Finally, the Dragon King smirked, mysteriously satisfied.

 

“You press your insignificant role in this, false human,” the king remarked pointedly with a knowing nod towards Sesshoumaru, “And I need not tell you that the unfortunate nature of legends is that they are forever written by the victor and therefore rarely accurate.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel, resuming his trek through the parting lake, the wary travelers following him closely and with careful steps.

 

“I-I would like to know then,” Kagome spoke up hesitantly, her voice soft and wavering. “The truth.”

 

“You do not heed advice well, do you?”

 

“I guess not,” she replied with a weak laugh, inwardly wondering if she would really regret asking, but she easily dismissed it. Curiosity was in her nature and so far it hadn't steered her too poorly. “Even so, I am your savior, aren't I? I think your story isn't much to give to the one who will slay the Centipede and save your children for you.” A burgeoning silence filled the damp air broken only by the gentle rush of the slowly returning water at their backs.

 

“Hn,” the king snorted finally in acquiescence, intrigued by the determined interest of his guests, “If your desire to know my tale is so great, then know it you shall. I will tell you though, that contrary to my previous words, much of my told history follows the truth, but only its beginning. In what seems like an eternity ago, my seven brothers and I were once a terrifying monster, an eight-headed and eight-tailed snake bound to each other by flesh and evil desire. Our body so massive that even coiled, we could not fit in this great valley that I now call my home.

 

For many years we lived atop the mountains and basins we covered, our blood-stained bellies hungering for the untasted flavor of the pure and good, for the flesh of a god. So we laid in ambush, our backs growing heavy and hidden under the moss and trees that gradually rooted upon us over time. Then at the head waters of a river we bordered on, our unsuspecting prey approached. They drew us from our light slumber, wakening our appetite with their gentle, enticing laughter. The old, earth deity couple who dwelled in the mountain from where the melted snow seeped to the river below had fallen into our trap. Smelling of virtue, they were truly good gods and we swiftly coiled around them and poised for our strike, unwilling to let such a rare opportunity to slip away. With no chance for escape, the couple begged fervently for their lives, but we however remained indifferent to their pleas. Too long we had waited and too wicked were we for such admirable notions as compassion or pity. Then in their desperation and our delight, they shamelessly offered the eldest of their eight daughters for our appeasement. Quickly, we agreed and the young maiden was presented to my eldest brother, the delicious crunch of her bones satiating his hunger and the soothing trickling of her blood quenching his thirst.”

 

The Dragon King paused in his story and closed his eyes as his memory dwelled on the innocent girl so easily given away and he smiled evilly as he thought of her fear and anguished cries before her abrupt end in the silencing jaws of his brother. Kagome shrank away at his pleased countenance, her stomach turning and her throat aching. Whether it was at the girl's likely despair before her death or at the serpent's likely pleasure in her terror, she did not know.

 

“Eager to taste another,” he continued, “We preyed upon their weak will and required that in a year's time to be presented with another daughter or else we would return and consume them all. Naïve as they were, the couple agreed believing only one more child would fall victim to our cravings. But, we were eight brothers and two maidens are far from satisfying, so a year later and after my second eldest sibling ate his fill, we continued our demands and so on for another six years until only one daughter remained and with her our demise.”

 

“Susanou,” Kagome whispered, still feeling queasy.

 

“Yes,” he answered venomously, his eyes flaring brilliantly as he thought on the name and what it meant. “We had become complacent in our good fortune. A fair goddess filling each of our bellies and at last it would be my turn to taste the final savory maiden, for I was the youngest of my brethren. Seven years I had waited, envying my siblings as they each received their prize and now my time had come.

 

We made our way to the head of the river, anticipating the mourning couple and their last and most beautiful daughter. However, what awaited us was a great platform of stone with eight, great troughs filled with the sweetest smelling sake, all distilled eight times. An arrogant beast we were with purity as our weakness and such a rich drink after a long journey was simply too much to resist. So we dipped our heads in and drank, draining the vats of their liquor. After they were licked dry, we laid our heads down to contentedly sleep away our drunkenness, unaware of the danger lurking in a forest nearby.

 

When I awoke, my brothers were slain. Their once proud, maned heads severed from their necks, slashed and shredded by a crude blade. Their long tails carved and split and our greatest treasure, the great sword Kusa-nagi no Tachi stolen from my eldest brother's tail.” The king looked over his shoulder, anger and anguish haunting his expression. “There is no pain like biting into and gnawing away the dead flesh of your dear brothers so that you may escape the same fate that they share. The taste of their bitter blood still lingers in my mouth, reminding me of what I had lost that day.”

 

“You were lucky. Susanou missed you.”

 

“Ha,” the king laughed sourly, “Susanou does not miss anything, particularly when you are unfortunate enough to be his enemy. To be honest, I have thought a thousand times on why I lived when my brothers fell at his cowardly blade, yet still I know not why he spared me. Were he a just god like his sister and brother, I would say he did it, because I was innocent, for no maiden blood ever touched my lips. However, the god of thunder, the god of evil is not so virtuous. In the end, I believe he left me to live, so that I may suffer the loss of my brothers, like the couple and their last daughter suffered the loss of their family. On me he laid the crushing guilt of survival and the empty torture of loneliness.”

 

“What happened after that?”

 

“I hid away in a deep cave to embrace my solitude, leaving occasionally to seek enough food to survive. Years bled by as I slept, remaining but a shadow of my former glory with the savory taste of evil deeds having lost their flavor with the passing of my brethren. And there I would have stayed until the end of time claimed me; however it would seem that that spiteful god had other designs for my fate.”

 

“He imprisoned you here,” Kagome commented pensively, tapping her lip lightly. “But, why in the story of My Lord o' Bag of Rice? It's not your story.”

 

“The old earth gods,” Sesshoumaru replied before the Dragon King could respond, eliciting a grimacing smile from him.

 

“Hn,” the king snorted, “It seems you understand the irony quite well, false human. What crueler role to place the greatest evil of the world than in the part of a desperate father unable to protect his brood, a fate not unlike the one of the old, earth couple he had wronged in the past by eating their children. Appropriately, the true Dragon King was a pathetic waste of a beast, weak and passive. Though he begged the human lord for the lives of his children, it was his own that he feared to lose the most, because when the last of his children were swallowed, it would be his turn to die.”

 

“And like the earth couple, you as the Dragon King must ask for aid from a human, a concealed god or not.”

 

“If the Centipede were not protected by the power of Susanou, I would slay it myself. Instead, I must follow the tale and rely on an arrow shot by you.” His crimson eyes began to shimmer eerily. “Pray you do not fail me.”

 

The rising waves of the parting lake before them suddenly stopped, ending in a sheer wall of water. Dragon King paused in his step, raising a hand against the stayed currents, the liquid flowing gently against his open palm. Thin tendrils of his menacing aura seeped out of his chest, curling around his extended arm and into his hand.

 

“A palace beneath the waves. Of white marble and crystal,” he spoke at length and with a firm voice, focusing the energy in his glowing hand and with the final word uttered, a massive vibration rippled the water around him. A long moment passed emptily as they waited, then slowly the water churned. Thundering as they built and crashed, great, frothing waves sloshed to and fro as the exposed lake bed spread before them.

 

Gradually the water receded away, revealing a beautiful, white castle of smooth stone. Raised on gleaming alabaster stairs, the broad, ivory towers stood proudly in the bright sunlight. Their square roofs, curling elegantly up at the corners, glittered brilliantly with crystal tiles, their gentle hues touching every color of the rainbow.

 

“Wow,” the school girl muttered breathlessly, “This is your castle?”

 

“Yes,” the king replied with a smirk. “Come, good lord. You will need your rest before your battle.”

 

He stepped away before she could answer, walking down the many white shells that made up the path leading to the palace steps. At the crest of the distant stairs, seven tiny, red-headed figures appeared, huddled together apprehensively as they whispered to one another. One bare head perked up higher than the others and the small boy squealed in delight.

 

“Father!” he called out, leaving his siblings behind as he raced down the steps, his sea green coat and pants fluttering around him as he sprang. His enthusiasm and courage contagious, the others swiftly followed, as they whooped and giggled with glee. Then in one chaotic mass of red hair and teal clothing, they collided with the Dragon King, clambering over his armor and clothing, each seeking a hold and a perch. The king both laughed and scolded them as they found their chosen places on him and prattled on about their day filled with mischief and play.

 

“So that is why Akane has no hair,” the king remarked in amusement, reaching up to rub the bald head of the son straddled high up on his back, his thin arms clinging dearly around his neck.

 

“It wasn't fair,” Akane blurted out accusingly, “They did it while I was asleep, father.”

 

“Do not worry, boy. It will grow back by tomorrow,” he said soothingly, giving him a gentle pat on the head. “You will have ample opportunity to return the favor. And to all of them.”

 

“And I will,” he yelled seethingly, stifling the tears that threatened to flow as the other boys giggled in response.

 

“Let's go, father!” another boy implored, settled up high on his shoulder armor.

 

“But, you are all so heavy. Even without the added weight of Akane's hair, I am not sure if I can climb those high steps.”

 

“Father!” they complained in unison.

 

“Very well, I will try,” he acquiesced, grinning at their answering cheers.

 

Slowly and stiffly, he walked toward the waiting stairs, stepping upon each step with great, mock effort, much to his sons' well-voiced dismay. Kagome looked on, unable to suppress the growing smile coming to her lips at the spectacle.

 

“He doesn't seem very evil anymore, does he?” she finally remarked, casting a glance at the solemn tai youkai at her back.

 

“Hn.”

 

“What?”

 

“Seven sons,” he replied evenly, “Not unlike seven brothers.”

 

“I didn't even notice,” she murmured.

 

“Miko.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Be wary,” he warned as he stepped past her towards the castle. “All creatures care for their young, for their family and the intelligent ones may even love their children. Whether they are good or evil does not matter for love does not change the fundamental nature of the beast. Do not forget it, especially here.”

 

She opened her mouth to respond, but found nothing to say. In silence, together they followed the child-laden king, into the great, white palace of marble and crystal.