InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ Innocence ( Chapter 28 )

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

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Innocence

 

 

Like the slow thaw of spring, time trickled by as Kagome waited silently in the soft blue shade of the square courtyard. Her tender lip grew raw under the scrape of her teeth as she gently bit at it, lost in her indecision. It had been determination and rage that had guided her steps away from the dining room and the infuriating tai youkai within it, Sesshoumaru and his wise, but unforgiving advice. She reached for her sore arm, rubbing her elbow soothingly as she swallowed down at the renewed lump of anger that burned in the back of her throat. `What a jerk.'

 

The quiet sound of splashing water contrasting with a series of loud, slurping pops drew the school girl from her frustrated thoughts and her sight into the amber and pink reflections of dusk. The rich hues painted every surface that shadow did not touch, drowning even the bleached white planks of the polished, wood floor in warm color.

 

At the center of the courtyard, stood the king, his dark silhouette edged in golden light as he leaned against a delicate, ebony rail. He appeared lost in contemplation, his elbows resting heavily on the wooden bar in front of him as he overlooked a small pond sitting below the raised deck of the floor. The calm water reflected in near perfection the magenta sky of the slowly fading sunset, with only the black shadows of its shallow ripples marring its effort. Reaching over leisurely, his hand sought an elegant porcelain dish sitting precariously on a narrow post next to him. He dipped into it absently, grasping a few pellets with his fingers. He cradled them in his hand, considering them as he rolled them around in his palm with his thumb. Satisfied or bored, he abruptly cast them into the water with a light spattering. Scarcely a breath passed before the liquid surface churned violently in reaction, the gentle waves lapping at the smooth rocks that framed the pool. Like giant, graceful teardrops, koi fish of red and white emerged from the darkness, sucking loudly at the floating pebbles of food that had lured them from the security of the depths. Under the flourish of fin, soon the pellets were gone and as quickly as they had appeared, the fish swiftly faded into the blackness, their appetites sated.

 

Finding herself completely at a loss, Kagome watched on at the king's back as he fed the fish a few more times. For all of her pride and desire to heal him from the old wounds that scarred his words and his heart, in the end, she had no idea what to say to him. What do you say to an evil monster whose brothers once devoured innocent goddesses? What do you say to a brother who woke up from a peaceful slumber to find his family dead? What do you say to a tortured father who has found the illusion of family in a prison, but has been denied the strength to protect them? She bit at her lip again.

 

“Why do you hide, good lord?” the Dragon King spoke up finally, turning his head slightly to eye her curiously, taking note her startled expression with a smirk.

 

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing lightly in embarrassment as she searched for answers that were not the real ones that idled in her head, “I came out for some air. I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

 

“I am doing nothing so important that I require your absence,” he replied reassuringly before letting his eyes fall to the pond yet again. “As it were, if you wish to step out of the shadows, you may join me. I am not known to bite, despite my reputation.”

 

“I didn't think you would.”

 

“Your innocence is refreshing,” he remarked with a low, sinister chuckle, his pearly fangs taking on a more menacing glint than before. Then with the stately motion of a black clawed finger, he gestured to the empty railing beside him. “Come, but only if you desire.”

 

With a deep breath to summon her confidence, the school girl moved forward, her hesitancy waning with each unwavering step. In a few short strides, she was at his side. She rested her elbows on the rail, mimicking his posture and eliciting another smile from his lips.

 

“So, where is your dog servant?” he asked after a moment, a red eye peering down at her to catch her frown of disapproval.

 

“He's not my servant,” she quickly answered with a firm voice to leave no doubt. “But, he's still in the dining hall.”

 

“You are brave to be in my presence without his escort.”

 

“He would say I was a fool.”

 

“Ha,” the king laughed, “Bravery and foolishness are often one and the same. All that separates them is success.”

 

“I suppose so,” she sheepishly agreed with a smile. “Sometimes I don't know which I am.”

 

“Hence why you are here.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“No one ventures into the same courtyard as Yamata-no-Orochi to simply share the air. There must be some need waiting behind your lips. Some question you wish to ask.”

 

“Hm,” she snorted, looking up at him to catch his knowing gaze, “Am I that obvious?”

 

“You are as transparent as water, good lord,” he remarked, his tone unimpressed, but nothing else. “So, what does my children's future savior wish for?”

 

“I don't really wish for anything, to be honest,” she answered, rubbing her thumbs gently over each other in fidgeting nervousness. “I just want to do something. I want to do something to save you.”

 

“You will,” he replied in mild bewilderment, unsure of the intent behind her words. “You will slay the Centipede and my children will be spared. The glory of being a hero will be yours with a little patience. Midnight will be upon us in a few, short hours.”

 

“That's not what I meant. I want to help you.”

 

“Help me?” he repeated darkly, turning to face her with a crimson stare anchored firmly to her own sepia one.

 

“Yes,” she replied with a deep, rasping breath, waylaying the anxiety creeping into her throat. “I can hear your pain when you talk about your past. I can see how you hurt over what has happened to you at the hands of a god. I understand what you've lost and I, I want to help you.”

 

“You know my pain?” he wondered harshly in disbelief, sparks flickering in his eyes as thin wisps of aura slipped from him. “You've awakened to your family lying in pools of their own blood beside you? You've wished a thousand times that the blade that felled them had sliced your throat as well? You've cursed the heavens every aching day that bleeds into every unbidden, tortured night and back again? Over and over, until you can barely remember a time when you lived free of guilt and anger?” He leaned in close examining her uneasy expression with a scrutinizing glare before snorting in satisfaction. “You are too naive. Too pure to truly know what it means to be me. I do not desire your comfort or your help.”

 

“But you need it.”

 

He scowled at her as he tamed his rage, leaving his waning evilness to evaporate in the air.

 

“If you didn't want my help, then why did you tell me your story?” she demanded softly, finding confidence in the strength of her resolve. She would help him. No one else would. “Why tell me about the unfairness dealt to you, if it wasn't to seek help?”

 

“I told you nothing that you did not wish to know,” the king answered seethingly, gripping the railing beneath him. “You wished for my identity beyond the Dragon King and I told you. You wished for my story as Yamata-no-Orochi and I told you that as well. Like now with this unsavory discussion, how can I deny the one who will save my children?”

 

“That's just it. They're illusions, not children,” Kagome reasoned. “And even more so, they're not your brothers. They're not your family. All they do is keep you from peace by worrying you over their fate.”

 

“You know nothing of loneliness, do you?” he remarked bitterly with nails grinding against the wood within his grip, sending fine shavings fluttering to the floor. “Let me ask you, do you believe me weak for not breaking the magic of this world? That bastard dog demon did. I carry as much power as he does and many times more when I was not alone so many years ago. It was enough to scare even the great Susanou from an honorable battle.”

 

“Then why don't you? Between you and Shiro, this scroll, this prison would be nothing. You could be free.”

 

“And what is freedom, but a dark, empty hole? There is nothing out there for me. These children, conjurations of a spiteful god or not, are all that I have. I will not jeopardize them just to bend the magic a little to my will. I could end the existence of the Centipede whenever I want, but what role will my children play if they are no longer in danger? Could my worst fear of their non-existence be brought to pass by such blind thinking? I could not bear it.”

 

“And so you stay,” she murmured in frustration, running her fingers through her hair, “To pay for the crimes of your brothers and to live in fear of what could be.”

 

“Hn,” he snorted, dismissing her words with the wave of a hand, “You still do not understand. My brothers and I were one and the same beast. Their acts are mine as well and so are their punishments.”

 

“But, you didn't drink the blood of a maiden. You're innocent.”

 

“Innocent?” he laughed wickedly, startling the school girl with its suddenness. “Is that what this is about?”

 

“Yes,” she replied adamantly. “You haven't done anything wrong and that's why you were spared. No goddess died at your hand or claw--”

 

“And so, good lord,” the king interrupted with a nod, “That is it. You've torn into every aspect of my existence with your words and sagely assumptions, finding only pain and anguish in your wake. Even now you deny me guilt and all under the premise of innocence. I tire of your pity and selfish altruism.”

 

“I don't pity you.”

 

“But, you do,” he quickly remarked and followed with a sneer, “It is all clear to me now and I know how you may aid me in easing my heart.”

 

“How?” she asked hesitantly as he leaned in closer to her, his hot, sparking breath flush against her cheek.

 

“It is quite simple. You can give me guilt.”

 

With that, his clawed hand seized her throat, searing her neck with its heat as his fire darkened nails pinched her skin. Her hands flew at his grip, clawing and wrenching vainly as he chuckled evilly at her struggle.

 

“Sessh--,” she half-choked out as the vice of his fingers tightened and ended her cry with a pained squeak.

 

“Shh,” he whispered into her ear, his lips grazing her lobe, “Your dog will not arrive in time to save you, good lord. Or should I refer to you as good miko? One does not need to see your true form to know the pure essence that flows from you. Priestesses wield the power of the gods, little girl.”

 

“Let me go,” she demanded in a hoarse whisper, “You know I can't save your children from the Centipede if I'm dead.”

 

“Hn,” he snorted, “Yes, my children could perish tonight at the Centipede's whim, but you are mistaken if you believe that when I awaken tomorrow on the bridge that they will still be gone. You forget the nature of this scroll. Nothing created here is forever. The lord has missed before and I have heard and seen the terror of their deaths. What is certain is that if I suck the marrow from your bones and drink the blood from your skull, I will be cleansed of all innocence and my heart will be clear. You though, being not of this world, will be dead forever.”

 

“No,” she muttered venomously, summoning her miko power, hopelessly hoping that it would be enough to free her. That it would be enough to give her time to call for him, wherever he may be. The king's dark, soiled aura flared up at the desperate pure burst of pink radiance she mustered, squelching it like rain in a river of lava. She felt her lungs seize as the evilness washed over her in burning waves, robbing her of consciousness.

 

“Delicate, aren't we?” he scolded gently as her head lolled to the side and her eyelids drooped. He rolled his thumb over her cheek, propping her heavy head up with ease. “Stay with me, good lord. I am not finished with you and it would truly be a pity if you were not able to fully appreciate the fruits of your efforts.”

 

Using the forefinger of his free hand, he scraped a nail into her cheek, drawing a thin line of red. Beads of blood formed along it, contrasting brightly with the growing paleness of her porcelain skin. He leaned away from her ear and flicked out his black, slightly forked tongue. Achingly slow, he eagerly dragged it along the scratch, drying it of blood.

 

“Hmm,” he considered as he drew away from her, his shadowed body still framed in golden sunlight and his eyes glowing bright red. “Like ash compared to a real god's taste, but it will have to do. You have my gratitude.”

 

Then all went black.