InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Seven Feudal Fairy Tales ❯ Fathers and Mothers ( Chapter 56 )

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

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Six: Fathers and Mothers

 

 

Towering at the crest of the stone stairs, the tai youkai stared down at the frail monk who now beckoned him with the casual wave of his gnarled hand. Unmoved by the continuing welcome, Sesshoumaru remained where he stood, as exclusive to the old, fruit vendor as the eternal night overhead was to the graying dawn in the east. In his eyes, the old man and his produce cart were dyed in unsavory tones, serving as potent reminders of his brief interlude in the indulgences of shame and weakness. A rare few had ever encountered him in such a pathetic state and this monk had known him in no other fashion. Yet, it was with that silently-drawn conclusion that the sincerity of the youkai lord's concern jarred in his rational mind and permitted his swift feet their chance at defiance.

 

Beginning the descent to the wagon below, he stepped without reservation, now acutely aware of the audacious thoughts that had previously sought to intimidate him. The old man simply smiled while he approached, neither fearful nor condescending, but instead retaining an easy comfort. The final step behind him, the tai youkai stopped beside the cart.

 

“Is there no tale that denies you entrance beyond its boundaries?” Sesshoumaru asked evenly, eyeing the perpetually reappearing monk and his rickety wagon.

 

“If there is a road for me to travel, then I may trespass where I like,” the man replied with a broadening, sparsely-toothed grin, his dark eyes bright and kind even in the dim moonlight. “Normally, I intrude less than I have recently, but guests such as you and the recent Momotaro-sama are a growing rarity in this realm.”

 

“Guests such as us?”

 

“Travelers,” he elaborated, “Friendliness can only be found with one prisoner here and while conjurations can make for entertaining company, it is refreshing to speak with new people on occasion.”

 

“Are you a prisoner as well?”

 

“In a way. I suppose you were soundly asleep when I explained my past to your companion. She and I played the same roles at one time, but I was dealt far worse luck. A traveler who dies here never completes the poem and is thus imprisoned by the magic.”

 

“You perished?”

 

“Only of old age. The scroll does not allow for any other death.”

 

“Hn, the island,” the demon remarked, concluding naturally about where the old man most likely met his end.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then, you informed her of the truth of that fairytale, did you not?”

 

“Not how you might believe. With respect to your decision of silence, I only told her my sordid story. She figured out her missing past on her own.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Whatever she did after our parting at the dock was her choice and in my boldness I have to say that she was uncommonly fortunate that you returned when you did. Humans only live so long.”

 

“That was not her fortune. Sparing her of your fate lies with the princess beneath the sea and not with I. My expedited return pales beside the decision of Oto-hime to release me early. Without it, mortality surely would have claimed the miko.” Finished with all he had to say on the subject, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel, ready to begin his journey to the west once more. The first drafts of youki fluttered the bottoms of his tucked pants and his sight rose to meet the jagged horizon of the bamboo forest.

 

“Wait, I am not finished,” the monk spoke up, his rough, aged voice interrupting the youkai lord's concentration. “I have more to discuss with you.”

 

“I have no need to hear anything further from you.”

 

“How can you judge that to be true if you will not listen? This is the second time in the many years since my stranding that a human has come here.”

 

“I am leaving.”

 

“And the first time was with the last visitor.”

 

“A human ventured here with my father?” the tai youkai wondered aloud, the old man finally piquing his elusive interest and the aura whipping at his boots dispersed in the air. Throughout his travels here, hints of his father's journey and his mysterious guest had been whispered, but none had been more than passing thoughts, leaving him with more questions than answers.

 

“If he was the last of your clan to use the scrolls then it was he. Many demons belonging to Lord Shiro's family have filtered through this place, but when I encountered her, I was amazed.”

 

“Her?”

 

“Yes, a woman. I remember that well, because as an ancient apparition who was once human, I cannot forget the details of another such as her. Even now, the countless tears that she had shed over your father's illness will not abate in my memories.”

 

“His illness?”

 

“Oto-hime kept him for far longer than you. Twice your time passed before her rarely-given mercy released him so that he could return to save his companion. In the sixth tale when I met her as Lord Momotaro and he as Do-Gu, he was in far worse condition than you were. Plagued with fevers and fitful sleep, days passed without him reaching consciousness. Eventually when he was well enough to wake, he still spent weeks in the home of the elderly couple and under her vigilant care.”

 

“Hn.”

 

“Together, they defeated the ogres of Oni Island. I cannot believe that she did much of the fighting, but not all victorious battles are aided with a sword alone. In this fairytale, he received the same quest as you and fought valiantly for her.”

 

“Why tell me this?”

 

“The temptation of the genuine in a world of chained gods and stale magic,” the man sighed, absently fiddling with the leather reins cradled in his hands. “True heroism and affection are scarcities, so after witnessing their many struggles and the growing strength of their love, I now must know. I have a selfish request that warmly reminds me of how much of my humanity still wanders here. I knew that your companion would not be old enough to know it, but if you are his son, then you might. Guided by your generosity, I pray that you will reveal to me what became of them when they left.”

 

Burgeoning silence swelled as the tai youkai quietly held the expectant man's gaze, knowing only a harsh truth. With the monk's confession, he now understood his own past better and it was not a tale of triumph and contentment. Undoubtedly still weakened by his sacrifice here, the fatal injuries done to his father in his final battle against Ryukotsusei had become clearer. How could he have wholly defeated that vile dragon when he could barely stand not long before? Then with his father dead, Inuyasha's mother had accompanied the inu general in the hereafter a short time later. While tragedy weighted his tongue, the youkai lord saw hope in the monk's eyes and a need to connect with a world that was real, if only for a moment.

 

“She bore him a son,” Sesshoumaru finally answered, watching the old man's eyes gloss with his reply. “He is my younger half-brother.”

 

“They had a child and he was a boy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That is good. That is so very good. I am pleased beyond words and you have my deepest gratitude for your consideration. You are an exemplary member of your clan for which Lord Shiro could only be proud.”

 

“I must depart now.”

 

“Of course, I will not delay you further,” the monk quickly said, bowing repeatedly and with respectful deference from his seat. “If you journey to the west, you shall find your quarry, but understand that firerats are dangerous and tricky beasts. Regardless of that fact, I will pray for swiftness in your victory, since there is no doubt that you will succeed.”

 

“Hn,” the demon lord snorted at the advice-laced compliment and turned away from the man again. Youki flowed from him uninterrupted with his plush pelt buoyant on the turbulent drafts. Then with a powerful leap whose force nearly pulled the frail monk down from his perch, the tai youkai sprang away. The fruit vendor stared up in awe at the silhouetted speck until it faded into the darkness of the sky. The dazzling display of stars garnered his attention next, reminding him of how long it had been since the beauty of the scroll had spoken to him. Forgiveness from the miko and closure from the demon had loosened the chaffing bonds that bound his drowning heart and lifted it from the murky waters of his eternally repeating existence. This conjured world was indeed beautiful and a peaceful smile played on his lips before he barked a sharp yip to his faithful pony. Beginning the plodding journey back down the well-accustomed route, the monk astride his produce cart soon vanished into nothingness.

 

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

 

Her delicate chin planted in her palm, Kagome lounged disinterestedly in a large room of the mansion. Earlier and with great insistence, the bamboo-cutter and his wife had ushered her there and closed the door after the knights departed for their quests. Without purpose and before the immeasurable amounts of time she would spend there began to pass, the young woman had wandered aimlessly around it. She examined the exquisite architecture and the rich paintings that framed and decorated the walls; however they soon lost their grandeur to her rising boredom. One could only stare at the same mural of a blooming, cherry tree for so long, no matter how beautiful it was.

 

Resorting to sitting on the singular cushion at the center of the room, the school girl collapsed in a neat heap of silk and jingling jewelry. Shifting often in relative discomfort with the clothing she was swathed in painfully tight and unforgiving; she waited obediently and played her part. The moon princess waited and she was meant to do the same, even if it was excruciatingly boring. In desperate need of amusement, it was as she futilely attempted to peel the irremovable paint from her nails that there was a light tap at the rice paper door.

 

“Kaguya-hime?” the elderly woman called out, the sound of her voice dulling little through the thin material of the door.

 

“Y-yes?!” the school girl replied, nearly forgetting her new name.

 

“Are you decent, my child?”

 

“Yes, I am. I don't think I could be otherwise even if I tried, so please come in.”

 

“Then I shall enter,” she said kindly, sliding the door open and smiling pleasantly at the glowing, young woman who awkwardly struggled to get to her feet without falling back down.

 

“Are the knights back yet?”

 

“The knights will not return for some time.”

 

“Oh,” Kagome murmured while successfully finding her footing. Gathering soft drapes of fabric in her hand, she kept them from being stepped on as she shakily stood up. “Then is there something for me to do?”

 

“To be beautiful is your only chore.”

 

“Am I doing a good job?”

 

“Of course,” she chuckled lightly at the earnestness shading the school girl's voice. “You are doing a fine job, but it is now time for bed and I am here to tend you.”

 

“Bed?”

 

“Yes, it will be days or perhaps weeks before the knights return. We would be neglectful if we left you to be so ornately adorned while you slept.” Before she could ask another question, the old woman left the room and stepped out into the hall. With a coaxing wave, she beckoned and Kagome followed her out with a small, but hurried stride.

 

The soft rustle of silk and shuffling steps marked their passage as they walked through a maze of corridors. Each hall uncannily similar to the last, the school girl soon wondered if her guide was as lost as she and they were simply going in circles. Eventually, the elderly woman paused in front of a sliding door and grasped its shallow handle. Gliding it down its track, an elaborate bedroom was swiftly revealed. Rimmed with expertly crafted furniture and a soft, thick futon at its center, Kagome smiled at the generous living quarters she had been granted.

 

The luster of the room lost on her after so many years, the old woman entered indifferently with the amazed princess in tow. Turning to slide the door shut, she then shepherded the school girl toward a changing screen which featured the serpentine coils of a dragon and a phoenix quarrelling on its panels. Hanging over the partition was a simple, silk, yukata robe and Kagome stepped behind it, set to perform the dubious task of disrobing.

 

“Are you in need of aid while you undress, my child?” the woman asked after a while when a series of frustrated grunts and whimpers arose.

 

“Yeah, I think I might need some help,” the school girl answered with a nervous laugh as she reached fruitlessly for another one of the many dangling ends of her obi in hopes that it would untie it. Firm and experienced fingers soon found her back and with a few easy tugs, the sashes unwound. Tossing them neatly over the top of the screen, she permitted Kagome to do the rest on her own and served only to hold the garments as they were gradually removed. Her glowing silhouette from behind the partition emanating light rather than shadow, the school girl wrapped the thin robe around her nudity and ventured out.

 

“Shall we undo your hair?” the elderly woman asked next, walking across the room to stand beside a vanity table. Nodding enthusiastically at the idea of being free of the pricking accessories that bound her hair, Kagome joined her and sat down on the padded stool. In the reflecting mirror, she stared at her radiant countenance with sheer fascination, barely recognizing the face she found there. Pin by pin, her hair accoutrements clattered on the polished table until all of her ebony tresses fell naturally past her shoulders. If not her painted face, at least her hair looked familiar now. Running a fine, camel bone comb through them, the woman continued her work, straightening the tangled locks. A curious thought snared in the school girl's mind as she sat there being tended to by the bamboo-cutter's wife. In her brief experience with nobility in the feudal era, she always thought handmaidens were meant to care for members of the household.

 

“I don't mean to be rude, but why are you doing this?” she asked hesitantly, unsure if her bold inquisitiveness would offend the gentle woman at her back. “Aren't handmaidens supposed to comb my hair and help me dress?”

 

“In this tale, you are considered too lovely for hands other than ours,” she replied kindly. “Besides, I would have it no other way. My beloved daughter deserves my hands.”

 

“Oh,” Kagome whispered with a blush only brightening her shimmer. Searching for another topic to quell her embarrassment, a repeated detail mentioned in their scattered conversations since they met came to mind. “You and your husband keep mentioning how this fairytale is meant to go. As magic of the scroll, both of you seem very aware of not only your roles but mine as well. So, I guess I want to know what it's like to exist here. Can you tell me?”

 

“That would be a simple question if we were magic, Kaguya-hime.”

 

“Wha-What?” she blurted out, staring at the solemn expression that now saddened the normally contented elderly woman's face. “If you're not magic, then who are you? Are you a prisoner here?”

 

“Yes, we both are and perhaps the only ones who rightfully belong here.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“We are…” she began, the comb she cradled in her fingers pausing in its long, sweeping motions. “We are the earth gods.”