InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ Prison of Morality ( Chapter 26 )

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

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Six: Prison of Morality

 

 

Anxiously biting her lip, Kagome peeked in through the dark opening of the heavy, parted door centered in the silver framed entrance. The Dragon King and his giggling cargo had disappeared within the great, white castle a few moments earlier, taking little heed of the two guests still following cautiously a short distance away on the sea shell path. She looked back over her shoulder at the tall, imperturbable youkai and shrugged.

 

“I guess we just go in,” she remarked, her sight lingering on his stoic expression, studying it for a vague hint of agreement.

 

“Hn,” he snorted, “Proceed, miko. I doubt he will be returning.”

 

She nodded and stepped hesitantly through the doorway into the dim room. With walls and floors of white marble, the broad entryway was cut in half by a single stair before a waiting hallway at the other end. Beneath the step and haphazardly strewn were seven, black pairs of sandals. Amid them and perfectly arranged to point outside were the larger red, geta sandals of the Dragon King.

 

Drawn from her amused thoughts on the undisciplined, yet enthusiastic dragon princes that plagued the orderly castle, Kagome heard a strange rustling at her back. Kneeling elegantly behind her was the tai youkai, meticulously unfastening the straps of his black boots. He slipped each one off, revealing the dark, tabi socks he wore underneath them. When he was finished, he set them to perfectly face the entrance now turned exit of the castle. Once he was satisfied with their placement, he looked up and caught the stunned expression of the school girl, which furrowed his brow in return.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” she quickly asserted under his glare and followed with a soft, embarrassed laugh, “I just didn't think you ever took those boots off. Well, at least not before walking into someone's house.”

 

“Politeness is not something I lack,” he remarked with a slight edge as he rose and then stepped up the stair, moving toward the ivory glow of the hallway. “Not all though deserve such respect.” With that he vanished around the corner, leaving Kagome to hastily kick off her brown loafers before chasing after him.

 

Together, they walked through the labyrinth of halls and corridors in silence, absorbed by the exotic beauty that surrounded them. The rice paper walls framed with ebony wood glimmered in a myriad of subtle hues, the timid, swirling colors of mother-of-pearl. In the washed out gray and red tones of watercolor, a variety of fish decorated the panels. Many were graceful koi appearing to enjoy the soft shallows they were painted in, but one unusual fish caught the school girl's gaze.

 

“An angler fish?” she half asked under her breath, pausing by the oddly shaped fish with large teeth.

 

“Hmm, it would seem so,” the youkai lord replied impassively with a frown and then nodded toward the bright glow at the end of a line protruding from its head. “The light.”

 

“Yeah,” she murmured, her eyes drifting down the length of the wall to find a similar radiance a few steps away, “So, these are the lamps and their reflections on the wall light our way.” Sure of her reasoning, Kagome's sight returned to the fish before her. Despite being nothing more than an element of a mural, its liquid brushstrokes seemed to undulate under the slow flickering flame of its lure, snaring her curiosity. Tempted by the glow, she hesitantly reached up with her finger to feel the tiny ball of light.

 

“Eep,” she suddenly squeaked in surprise as the hall went black, the multitudes of fish on the walls fleeing at her delicate touch rippling the thin surface of the rice paper.

 

“Hn.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Gradually the light returned as the fish slowly swam back from the dark edges of the panels. They eyed the visitors cautiously as they settled in their places on the wall, some flitting to and fro nervously before calming enough to find their spot.

 

“Are you finished?” Sesshoumaru asked with a raised brow.

 

“Uh, yeah,” she answered with a fleeting smile.

 

“Good,” he remarked coolly, making her cheeks flush in embarrassment over her erring inquisitiveness. A smirk formed on his lips at her response, but it quickly faded as a faint sound caught his attention. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face the distant end of the shadowy corridor they had yet to pass through.

 

“What is it?” Kagome asked sheepishly with her face still slightly pink.

 

“Music.”

 

“Music?” she repeated, straining her ears in the quiet of the castle, hoping to hear what the tai youkai could listen to with ease. She frowned in defeat. “I can't hear it. What does it sound like?”

 

Much to her surprise, the demon had already begun to walk down the length of the remaining hallway, leaving her behind yet again. From embarrassed to annoyed, the school girl caught up in a few hurried strides, tempted to ask her ignored question once more when a soft, ethereal tune dulled her anger and answered it for her.

 

“A shamisen,” she said quietly, recognizing the faint, haunting strums of the slender, three-stringed guitar. Each lingering note sent a shiver up her spine, speaking a melody of pain and emptiness without a single word being spoken. Then her breath caught. Starting achingly soft and rising in chilling harmony, a beautiful, sorrowful voice joined the poignant song.

 

Her eyes growing glossy, Kagome's throat choked up at the moving music that both drew and repelled her. She wanted to console the heart that could carry such a desperate melody so alluringly, but she feared the hurt that echoed behind it, threatening to trap forever any who strayed too close.

 

The hall ended in a white, sliding door edged in silver and the tai youkai stepped forward, grasping the shallow, etched handle. It slid open fluidly, stopping with a light tap at the end of the groove as it revealed a large, dining hall. Ivory, tatami mats lined the floor, each one framed in the reflecting sheen of mother-of-pearl. Strings of small, glowing globes hung in regular clumps on the marble walls, illuminating the broad room in a silvery radiance. Several of the lights hung near an alcove midway along the room and there as if swimming in the air were the elegant forms of two mermaids.

 

Floating above the floor ever so slightly, they knelt humbly on their brilliantly white tails splotched with vivid reds and blacks. With white, painted faces and full, blood red lips, they looked up at the visitors with dark eyes shadowed with burgundy. Bound in soft loops upon their heads, their ebony hair was decorated with white, dangling shells of varying shapes. Dyed in floral patterns of red and black, their kimonos hung elegantly over their figures, ending at the wide, silver, obi sash just beneath their breasts and just above the scales of their tails. The long sleeves of their dresses draped to the floor and the pale arms and bright red nails of one could be seen as she cradled a shamisen and its wedge-shaped pick delicately in her hands.

 

“Welcome, good lord,” the smooth, crackling voice of the king called out from the opposite end of the room. Like a lone flame in a field of snow, the Dragon King sat casually on a mat before a small, black table. He smiled his grimacing grin and raised a hand to beckon them. “You must forgive my rudeness. I am used to the conjured lords who know the way. The music I hope helped to guide you here.”

 

“Yes, we heard it,” Kagome responded as she stepped towards the king, noticing two other sets of similar mats and tables near him. “It was very… beautiful. Sad, but beautiful.”

 

“Hmm,” the king murmured, stroking his chin with a black claw-tipped hand. “The geishas know the heart of who they play for and they reflect in song what they hear.”

 

“Who do they play for?”

 

“Why don't you and your servant come and sit,” he swiftly deflected, gesturing to the two other tables before him. “Our meal will be served shortly.”

 

With a slight bow, the school girl conceded her question and knelt down behind one of the tables with the youkai lord following suit at the table next to her, choosing to only instead sit cross legged rather than to be seated on his knees.

 

A door slid open a moment later and three more mermaids floated in, flicking their fins as they glided towards them with their delicate arms balancing fragile dishes of crystallized lotus leaves and flowers. They set down the vibrant plates and bowls on each table, laying out a sumptuous feast of fish, vegetables and rice and then returned to the sliding door, closing it behind them. Kagome felt her stomach grumble at the sight of the food, secretly wishing she could smell the likely aromas wafting in the light steam. She picked up the fine, ebony chopsticks set next to her meal and pressed her hands together with a clap.

 

“Itadakimasu,” she proclaimed in thanks, her gleeful tone fading as she realized she was the only one giving the praise. Her gaze traveled over to the solemn demon at her side and the untouched, cooling food before him. His arm tucked into his sleeve and his intense, golden eyes shimmering, Sesshoumaru sat quietly watching the Dragon King in aloof silence. Following his gaze, she too settled her sight on the king and his barren table, save for a long, black pipe resting on its smooth surface.

 

“Are you not eating?” she asked no one in particular as she deftly plucked at the fish fillet with her chopsticks and dipped the meat into a sauce.

 

“I do not care for this food,” the Dragon King replied, leisurely picking up his empty pipe and brought it before his lips. “But, do not let my distaste keep you from your meal. I wish for you to be in good spirits before your battle.”

 

“On't woowy,” Kagome mumbled happily with the light coral tail of a shrimp protruding from her mouth.

 

“Very well,” he chuckled darkly, puffing out vaporous wisps of smoke from his unlit pipe.

 

“Where are your children?”

 

“They eat elsewhere as this is a dining hall for adults. They would be quickly bored here regardless.”

 

“Hm,” she snorted with a smile as she thought on the young, red-headed princes, “They're a rambunctious lot.”

 

“Yes. I let them do as they wish. Should they grow into a rose or a weed, I do not care. I merely till the soil.”

 

“But, they don't grow do they?”

 

His smile dissipated at her words and he lowered his pipe away from his mouth considering it as the overflowing smoke leaked from his lips, like tiny little dragons curling in the air before vanishing into nothingness.

 

“No,” he sighed wistfully bringing the pipe once again to his mouth, “They are forever their ages, illusionary cellmates caught in the endless loop of this prison of morality.”

 

“Prison of morality?” she spoke questioningly, raising a brow.

 

“Indeed, good lord. You do know the purpose of a fairy tale, do you not?”

 

“It's a story that's meant to teach the reader about values,” she reasoned, sure of her response as it seemed not long ago she had to give a similar answer to a similar question. “About right and wrong.”

 

“Especially wrong,” he added with a fanged grin, his crimson eyes flaring brilliantly. “Every cell in this prison has a lesson to be learned, an injustice to be righted, a hero to be victorious and a villain to be vanquished.”

 

“Every story? All seven?”

 

“Perhaps,” he answered cryptically, “I cannot know what lies in the fairy tales beyond my own. Of the previous stories, I only know of what the rare few travelers like yourselves have divulged over the many years.”

 

“Who is in the first story, the tale of Kintaro? And what of Issunboshi? Who is it in that one?”

 

“Ah,” he chuckled mysteriously, “I shall give you a hint.” Exhaling deeply, he blew out a thick coil of smoke. It floated in the air gently, subtly changing shape into the vague form of a proud stag before dissipating in the air.

 

“The deer from Kintaro?”

 

“Yes, but I do not know what his offense was. His story is before any travelers know the secret of the scroll, but his role though leaves little doubt of his lesson to be learned,” he replied and then a wicked smile spread across his lips. “Ah, to spend everyday wrestling a bear, your greatest enemy. To feel his hot breath at your neck, not knowing whether this time is only play or if he really does intend to eat you. To have your life hanging on the possible happenstance of one swift bite. What could have that one time man now turned stag have done to the human Susanou to warrant such a terrifying story of humility?”

 

“But, he didn't wrestle with the bear in our travels through that story.”

 

“Ah, he has gotten craftier with time. Tempting the bear with the challenge of Kintaro and spoiling his taste for any further games, at least for that day. He is not always successful and despite his wit he will forever know the crushing embrace of the bear's claws.”

 

“And Issunboshi?”

 

Breathing out a dark, ashen plume, the smoke poured from the Dragon King's mouth and thickened into the figure of a statuesque man patiently pruning a small tree.

 

“The emperor.”

 

“Yes,” the king responded with a smirk and a nod.

 

“What did he do?”

 

“He was not an emperor in life, but a small lord with little land. His pride though was great and his treasure, a beautiful daughter. Susanou came before his court one day, hungry, dirty and begging for a station in the lord's personal guard. The fool knew not the beggar's former glory as a god and sent him away in disgust, but not before ordering his soldiers beat him for his audacity. To think he would let a nameless warrior into his leagues, let alone allow one to be responsible for the safety of himself and his precious daughter.” The king laughed his evil chuckle, his red eyes shimmering. “Susanou has been gracious in his lesson. Instead of a tiny province, the emperor rules the whole of Japan now, but at what cost? The wretched man seeks refuge in his hidden garden as his conjured daughter is left with less than a nameless samurai as her guardian and carnal bandits as their company.”

 

“It's horrible. None of them deserved this.”

 

“Are you saying they were good and righteous? That they did not deserve to learn their lesson?”

 

“N-no,” she stammered, “They were wrong and cruel, but—“

 

“When does it stop?” he interrupted, his voice smoldering as he finished her question. “When has the moral been learned? When does a necessary lesson become an unnecessary torture? When did the stag learn there is always someone stronger? When did the emperor understand that it is the strength of the warrior's heart and not his name that gives power to his sword? When did the serpent dragon know what it is to be powerless before a greater beast and have to lower himself to a lesser being in hopes to save his children?”

 

“When?” she gulped nervously.

 

“Long ago,” he answered softly, “Our sins were burnt away long ago.”