InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ Respect and Honor ( Chapter 38 )

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

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Respect and Honor

 

 

With a final shuddering sigh, Kagome's trembling body eased as the last of her ebbing sobs subsided into gentle breaths. Her tousled mop of long, silver-streaked hair hung around her face as she continued to press her wet cheek against the tai youkai in her tight embrace. Moistened from her tears and the steam of her breaths, the feel of his porcelain skin and the fine, combed hairs of his chest soothed her weariness. Still, it was not the flesh of his body that assured the aging woman the most that she was no longer alone, but the steady beat of his heart. It was the unerring sound of another person and with each thump it freed her little by little of her empty solitude.

 

“Kagome?” Sesshoumaru called gently, looking down at the crown of dark hair he still awkwardly stroked in her comfort. The name felt foreign on his tongue, but not nearly as strange as his half brother's name had sounded to his ears. The slight pang of regret formed behind the demon's temples as he thought on his decision to deceive the elder miko into believing he was the hanyou. He had had little choice if he still intended her to open the box. Restraining the frightened priestess in her terror would not inspire the trust that he desired, yet it was solely that aggressive act that had remained between him and her dangerous hail of purifying arrows.

 

“Mm,” Kagome murmured in reply as her grip at his waist tightened at her name, unwilling to surrender to the yet to be spoken request that she knew would soon follow.

 

“You must release me,” he kindly demanded as she had anticipated, his tone remaining soft as his telling hand found her narrow shoulder.

 

“N-no,” she disagreed hoarsely as a lost word of her slowly returning memory surfaced in her discontent. Stubbornly, she rubbed her face harder into the well built muscle of his chest and fresh tears streaked down her cheeks as she thought on the loss of his reassuring sound and warmth.

 

An elegant pair of claw-tipped fingers and thumb found the older woman's chin, raising it gently despite its reluctance. Soon her glossy, reddened eyes met his softened, golden gaze. The youkai lord's hand slipped to the tangled locks of hair that hid her face, sweeping them aside lightly with his nails. The salty streams of wetness were next as he soothingly wiped her tears with the soft pads of his fingers. Eventually, his touch strayed away from its drying intent to the many fine grains of sand that clung lightly to the delicate hairs of her face, brushing them away as well. He smiled mildly in satisfaction as his ministrations slowly revealed the beautiful face before him that was accentuated with age rather than destroyed by it.

 

“Kagome,” he spoke again when he finished, stroking her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. “You must release me and trust that I will not leave you. You are no longer alone. I will be here.” Her sepia eyes lingered on his placid expression, searching for a lie, but finding only his inexpressive sincerity. He would not leave her. She could trust him.

 

Gulping down at the impending sobs that lurked achingly in her throat, Kagome loosened her sinewy arms from around the tai youkai's long torso. Slowly and unsteadily, she hesitantly stepped back away from him. Swiftly the anxiety etching her tanned face faded as she looked him over and a gentle smile deepened the lines fanning from her eyes.

 

With a brow knitted, Sesshoumaru's own sight fell to his body and the perfect imprint of speckled sand her nearly coated figure had left on his person. From perplexed to surprised, he nearly stepped back as the elder miko closed the distance with her arms stretched out before her. Stiffening in his reaction, the demon lord's mind unhappily entertained the likely possibility of another lingering hug. To his momentary pleasure though, her calloused hands stopped short, finding the smooth skin of his muscular chest with their caring touch. Sweeping gently, Kagome freed the clinging grains from his dusted body, working her way down his chiseled abs as she went. Unsure of what to make of all her recent touching, the tai youkai quickly found the line as her fingers strayed to the few grains caught on the white silk of his fundoushi.

 

“That is enough, Kagome,” he insisted sharply, grasping her wrist firmly as her hand ghosted over the fabric and the soft mound beneath it. She stared up at him in bewilderment as he cautiously released his grip, his eyes warily following her recently accosting hands.

 

“No?”

 

“No,” he answered resolutely as he leaned forward to brush the few remaining particles away. “I will do the rest myself. Do not concern yourself.”

 

She shrugged in acquiescence and patiently waited for him to finish what she had started. Cleansed as well as he could expect in a world of sand and the gentle breezes it often rode, the demon straightened up and his sight settled on the occupied priestess before him. Watching as the youkai lord meticulously groomed himself had reminded her of her own disheveled appearance. Over her shapely figure, her hands roamed across powdered skin, revealing the golden tone beneath as she brushed the sand free. As she finished, only the subtle glittering of a few anchored grains remained behind on the toned lines of her muscles and the soft curves of her breasts and backside. Satisfied with the cleanliness of her skin, Kagome's dull nails found the snarled locks of her hair, smoothing the tangled knots as she gently raked her fingers through them.

 

Sesshoumaru looked on in quiet appreciation, uninterested in distracting the lithe elder miko from her preoccupation with her body. Catching his eye with curiosity, her peaceful expression glowed faintly in contentment as she busily combed her long, ebony hair. It was this serenity that hinted at her true power which seemed greater than the strength of her muscles or the aim of her arrow. During the cruel years that traded her tender youth for hardened scars, she had somehow retained her innocence through it all. It was a radiating light that refused to be darkened by time or loneliness. Then the sweet laughter of his adopted daughter echoed in his mind, another who had experienced so much pain, but whose kind spirit endured. Wrapped in torn fuchsia silk and hanging securely from his fundoushi at his hip, the small, pearlescent box he received from the Oto-hime felt heavier.

 

“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked inquisitively at his aloof stare in her direction, disrupting the tai youkai from his meandering thoughts.

 

“Where are my clothes?” he smoothly responded, diverting his tarrying contemplations with a concern that had been hovering in the back of his mind since before he returned. “And my swords?”

 

“C-lo-thes and s-words?” she murmured quietly, tapping her lips lightly with her finger as she remembered the words from her fractured memory. Then she smiled broadly and reached forward eagerly, grabbing his hand tightly in her enthusiasm. “Come.”

 

After pausing briefly to retrieve her dropped bow, Kagome was soon swiftly striding across the soft, deep sand with the uncertain demon securely in her grip. The earlier fall from the cliff scarcely hindering her determined steps; they wove easily through an endless maze of tall, coconut trees. The flat ground rose into an easy sloping hill as they traveled through the sparse forest. Gaining the advantage of height, the distant terrain soon grew in familiarity as Sesshoumaru recognized the far-off, smooth line of coast that the stranded sea turtle had washed up upon.

 

Through a final copse of gently waving palm trees, a small, lone hut was revealed. Its sturdy frame was carved from thick, smoothly hewn logs and its walls and roof were thatched from palm fronds. Buffeted against a sheer wall of dark, volcanic rock, the delicate structure was safely out of the prying winds of the island that would slowly erode it away with their insistent breath. Blackened with use, a fire pit was dug out near the entrance of the dwelling. In the powdery ash and crumbled shards of charred wood at its center lay a few glowing coals waiting to be fed.

 

Releasing her guest in her sudden rush, Kagome hurriedly approached the dying fire. Her hands swiftly found the broken pieces of driftwood that were collected into a pile at the rim of the hearth and she knelt down to expertly arrange a few into the pit to stoke the vanishing flame. Placed to her liking, she rose and loped to a stack of larger split logs of near the hut.

 

Back and forth she scuttled, carrying the heavy wedges of firewood to her now eagerly growing fire. The youkai lord casually strolled around the camp, absently observing the elder miko as he sated his curiosity about her lonely life on the island. Strange markings etched into the wall of rock caught his eye, drawing him to lines of writing that marred the formerly smooth plane of its stone surface.

 

“Firing one hundred arrows a day is nothing compared to firing one arrow well a day,” he read aloud, easily recognizing the words as the same ones he had taught to the miko when they stood before the devouring flames and appetite of the Centipede. “Envision nocking your arrow and envision drawing your bow. See your target and only your target. Do so until there is nothing else. Imagine your arrow's path and its strike. Imagine your success. And in that moment release your fingers.”

 

His brow furrowed as he followed the wall of rock to a lone tree several paces away. The bark of its broad trunk was engraved with the shape of a circle. At its center was a deep, elliptical gash, the perfect imprint of the elder miko's arrowhead.

 

`A well shot arrow a day as I had told her,' he thought inwardly as he fingered the frayed wood of the strike. Again, he felt the persistent weight of the gifted box grow heavier.

 

“Inuyasha?” a gruff, feminine voice called out to him at his back and the demon turned away from the tree. With a pleased smile gracing her features as she noted his interest in her practicing target, Kagome beckoned him with a quick wave of her hand “Come.”

 

“Hn,” he snorted and he followed her toward the thin shelter of her quaint hut. As he unhurriedly arrived, she crawled inside the narrow opening of her doorway. The sound of rustling and grunts marked her disappearance into the near dark of her dwelling as she fumbled about within. Then her rounded rear end reappeared as she hauled out a heavy box fashioned from reeds.

 

Lifting the fitted lid, she removed the soft, crumpled padding of grass, exposing a set of packages covered with broad, pliable leaves. Taking her obsidian knife from her belt, she carefully cut the handmade twine that held the wrapping together. With a gentle sweep of her hand, she cleared the leaves away and revealed the delicate silk within. Pure white save for the smooth gradient of crimson at the corner and the emblem of sakura blossoms in between, the haori coat he had left in her care appeared flawless despite the usual event of decay that time often wrought.

 

Carefully, she set it aside as she removed more packages, freeing them of their bindings as she went. Each one was in perfect condition, free of soil and rot. His hakama pants, his hapi undercoat, his boots and all unfazed by the corroding passing of thirty-five years. The last package she left in the box, unwilling to drag it from its nest unnecessarily. After a quick cut of her blade, the elder miko removed its wrapping. Peeking out in shimmering silver and black, the hard leather and metal spikes of his armor revealed itself as she plucked the leaves from its surface.

 

“It is oiled?” the tai youkai inquired curiously as he knelt down beside her, his clawed fingers gently stroking the familiar grain of the black leather and the glint of the shining steel.

 

Catching his meaning as he rubbed his hand over the armor in a circular motion, Kagome quickly rose to her feet and re-entered her hut. She returned a few moments later, dragging out two additional large, reed boxes. Set precariously upon them rested a corked coconut and a square of soft boar hide. She picked up the hollowed out fruit when she finished, removing the pithy stopper. She carefully handed it to the demon along with the hide. Through the narrow opening, he peered at the thick ointment within.

 

“Rendered boar fat?” he remarked thoughtfully as he examined the pelt and its recognizable, bristled, brown fur. With a slight nod, the impressed youkai lord returned the coconut and the hide.

 

Setting them aside after the she re-corked the fruit, the older woman lifted the top from her next case, exposing the downy pile of cream colored fur. Sesshoumaru petted it softly, its fate the least of his concern. His pelt would retain its power for many years after its removal and from the warmth it still exuded, his confidence was well rewarded. Delighting in her rare indulgence, Kagome's fingers found the soft tufts of fur as well.

 

“My swords?” the demon guessed as he gestured towards the only remaining reed box left unopened. A pout forming on her lips as her hands regrettably left the pleasure his pelt inspired, she removed the lid of the last box. Sleeved in cured, boar leather, two long objects laid within the case. He picked one up, recognizing the heaviness of Tokijin. He held it by the hilt, allowing gravity to slip off the soft wrapping. His mildly shocked expression reflected well on the shining blade unmarred by the expected spots of rust and the corrosion salt wrought on the steel of swords. Next he took up Tenseiga, finding it in as perfect condition as his other weapon.

 

“Oil,” Kagome spoke up with pride at his puzzlement and she tapped the coconut filled with fat as a new slew of forgotten words came to her mind. “Heat fat and clean.”

 

“Hn,” he snorted as he looked over the thin blade of his inheritance, the fang of his father. The weight of the tiny box at his hip grew even heavier in his mind, reminding him of the choice that had yet to be made. He had thought to give it to the miko before he arrived, after all her bad twist of fate had been wrought by the evil of a god and foul luck. It was not his fault that she had endured so much in her lonely stay on the empty island.

 

Pity and sympathy held an equal lack of sway in his mind. They were not worthy reasons to give such a precious gift and he loathed the idea of it. Pitying her would mean ignoring the strength and resilience she retained through the cruel years, an insult he would not exact on someone who so honored him, human or not.

 

`Would you have me go so far as to reward those who respect and honor me with punishment instead,' the gentle, unbidden voice of his great-grandsire floated through the demon's mind as he debated, reminding him of whose clan he belonged. He looked up at the glowing face of the elder miko as she prattled on with the few words she remembered, demonstrating happily on his armor the technique she used to preserve it. `Reward those who respect and honor us, Shiro-sama? Is that the aim of all who are born into your clan?'

 

Setting Tenseiga down in the case, he loosened the small, pearlescent box from its silken cover and cradled it gently in his palm. `Her blind trust, her devotion to the lessons in battle that I taught her and her unfaltering care for all of my possessions. Thirty-five years of loyalty. She is worthy of a gift, but is this the reward that she deserves for her enduring honor and respect? Will it be cherished if I do give it or will it be squandered like the many gifts you have given?' He sighed deeply in resignation. `Or is it truly my choice to make? To hold pride above shame and to reward those who respect and honor me leaves me with only one path. One that you would no doubt choose yourself.'

 

He sighed again as he unlatched the delicate lock with his thumb. The tiny box sat harmlessly on his palm, its unassuming simplicity belying what lay within. Then without further hesitation, he lifted the lid.