InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sleeping Beauty ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

First, a shout to my totally awesome beta, Autumn/Sahara. She's totally amazing. Another shout to my other beta, who will be helping me as real life won't leave me in peace. A shout to the totally awesome CiraArana, who constantly puts up with me being a complete slacker of a beta. If you haven't checked out her stories, do it. They're amazing! Third, a shout to everyone who sends me reviews! I love you all so much!

 

This chapter was exceedingly difficult for me to write, and I imagine it will be painstaking for you to read. Not much Sesshoumaru/Kagome goodness here. But they will return soon.

 

 

“And now, with the princess sleeping inside her castle, she needs her yokai prince to wake her,” Miroku said, mostly to the crowd of small children gathered around his feet. His eyes were filled with smiles as he spoke, glittering with his excitement. He doubted he would ever grow weary of telling Kagome's story to people.

 

“Why a yokai, mister priest?” one of the little boys in the audience called out.

 

Beside Miroku, Sango smiled. “Because it's part of the spell the miko Kikyou wove around the princess,” she explained to the boy.

 

“No yokai would rescue a human,” a little girl stated, a frown on her face. “Mommy tells me that yokai are evil and want to kill humans.”

 

Sango bit back the urge to find the girl's mother and tell the older woman how stupid she was. “Not all yokai are evil,” the demon hunter explained. “Miroku and I have met a number of nice yokai.”

 

“Sango is right. There are bad yokai and there are good yokai, just like there are bad humans and good humans,” Miroku replied. He smiled at the children. “Just because you always hear stories about the bad ones doesn't mean they're all bad.”

 

The children stared blankly back at Miroku and Sango, occasionally casting furtive glances to the adults standing nearby.

 

After a moment, an older man stepped forward from the crowd. “Anyway, we've all heard a different story about that castle,” he said in a shaking voice. “I've heard that a powerful yokai lives there, and he's the one who attacks our village and the others nearby.”

 

A younger man laughed at the old man. “Don't be foolish, Gure-san,” the man said, his voice light. “There's a dark miko what lives there. She comes out on a cloud of ice to steal the souls of virgin girls.”

 

Sango cast Miroku a furtive glance filled with slight paranoia. She couldn't believe that people actually put their faith in a story like that. Miroku shrugged back, in the same position as she.

 

“You're both wrong,” a matronly woman replied, adjusting her grip on a bag of grain she was hauling to her home. “The palace is the resting place of a great spirit. No one wants to disturb it. If we do, it'll destroy the village.”

 

“That's because it's a yokai!” the old man exclaimed, his voice still warbling. He took a step towards the woman with a glower.

 

Glancing at each other, Miroku stood from where he had been sitting. “We should go,” he murmured to Sango.

 

Sango nodded, slipping her hands into the folds on her colorful kimono. She smiled at the children and gave them a bow. “Thank you for listening to our story,” she told them. “Miroku and I appreciate that you have let us take advantage of your time.”

 

The children laughed at her formality, though it was meant more for their parents, and they leaped up, running to help with the chores they had been excused from. The village elder approached them from one side, his gnarled hand almost indistinguishable from the walking stick he held.

 

“You are leaving, then?” the elder asked.

 

Miroku nodded. “Yes. We are very grateful for the room you provided us with last night,” he replied with a bow, “but we must continue on. We have a long journey still ahead of us.”

 

The elder bowed in reply. “Our village is forever in your debt. We thank you for eradicating the spirits residing here,” the elder told Miroku. He hobbled beside the two travelers as they approached the town's exit.

 

“It was no problem,” Miroku said with a laugh. “It was our honor to do you a service.”

 

They arrived at the edge of the town and the elder paused. Sango and Miroku stopped beside him, glancing over to him. With a smile hidden by a white moustache and beard, the elder reached out and clasped his hand on Miroku's arm. “I hope you find your princess her yokai,” the old man said in a quiet voice. “Will you be visiting the palace before you continue on your journey?”

 

Sango cast a quick look at Miroku, whose brows were slightly furrowed. “Yes, we will be,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

 

“It has changed since you last passed through,” the old man said, his eyes showing a small twinkle of mirth, “even though you two have not.” Done speaking, the old man released Miroku's arm and turned, hobbling back into the village.

 

“I knew I recognized him,” Miroku muttered, watching him go. “He was the son of the elder when we came here… How long ago was it? Nearly sixty years ago. He was ten then. I thought he would be dead by now.”

 

Sango gave a weak smile. “We can't keep track of all of Japan,” she replied. “Let's go, Miroku. Kirara is probably upset that we've left her out in the woods all night.”

 

“Right,” Miroku agreed, beginning to walk away from the village, on the path that would take them through the woods that had grown up around the castle. “I wish we could take her with us, but people trust yokai even less than they used to.”

 

“I wish we knew why,” Sango said, slipping her hand in Miroku's. He squeezed her fingers lightly and she smiled at him. She sighed, her face suddenly gaining a weary quality. She still looked as young as she had when Kikyou had cast the spell to keep her and Miroku young, but the years still wore on her.

 

Miroku rubbed his thumb along her fingers and offered her a smile. “Why don't you check the mirror when we get back to Kirara?” he asked in suggestion.

 

A smile bloomed on Sango's face and her mood seemed to lift, the weary look fading slightly. “Perhaps the mirror will be able to show us a better picture this time!” she exclaimed, her step quickening. Sango hurried down the trail, pulling Miroku with her. They came around a corner and Kirara stepped from the bushes, her small tails twitching.

 

Releasing Miroku's hand, Sango hurried to the neko yokai and swept her into her arms. “Kirara, how was your night?” Sango asked her. She cradled the tiny yokai to her chest, scratching the underside of Kirara's chin. The neko purred happily in reply as Miroku retrieved their packs from the bushes where he had hidden them.

 

“Let's see,” he muttered, slinging one over his shoulder while he dug through the other. “Ah! Here it is.” He withdrew the mirror from the pack and handed it to Sango.

 

Kirara scurried onto Sango's shoulders as the woman took the small hand mirror from Miroku. It was delicately made, its detail fine. The ice mirror was circular in shape, with a fine, lace design wrapping the glass. Ice lilies bloomed at the top and bottom of the mirror, and vines sprouting from behind the flowers wrapped around the lace design. As always when she held the mirror, Sango was careful not to drop it. Although Miroku had once before and it hadn't broken, she was still wary. It looked so fragile. So delicate.

 

Holding the mirror from behind, Sango ran her finger around the edge of the glass. “I wish to see the yokai who will save Kagome,” she told it.

 

Miroku came up from behind and peered over Kirara at the mirror. It glinted in the afternoon sun for a moment before finally revealing an image. Silver mist swirled across the glass, interrupted, occasionally, by blue lightning.

 

“Still nothing,” Miroku murmured.

 

“Still nothing,” Sango agreed with a sigh. She touched the edge of the glass, clearing the image and turned. Miroku held open the bag and Sango pulled out the fabric they kept it wrapped in. Tying the wrapping closed, she carefully put the mirror back inside the bag, taking it from Miroku. Kirara jumped from her shoulder and Sango swung the pack into place.

 

“Let's go then,” Miroku said. “We've got a bit of a hike yet, and there aren't any towns between here and the palace.”

 

“Right,” Sango replied, adjusting the bag on her shoulders.

 

Heading down the path again, Sango slipped her hand into Miroku's. He smiled warmly at her, and a faint blush covered her cheeks. He knew she was only being this receptive because he hadn't flirted with any of the pretty girls at the village. Years separated him and those girls, though, and he had found flirting less enjoyable after he and Sango had finally admitted their feelings for each other three hundred years before. A smile spread across Miroku's face at the memory.

 

Sango had refused to talk to him for three days after they had left the village they had been staying in. When he had tried to initiate conversations, she would turn away. Kirara even turned against him, hissing quietly from beside Sango. On the evening of the third day, he had tried more persistently to get her to talk to him, and she had ended up trying to brain him with her hiraikotsu. After beating him up for a few minutes, Sango had come to her senses, apologizing and beginning to patch him up.

 

As she had worked, she had told him she didn't like when he flirted with the girls. It made her jealous. And, because she didn't really know how to handle that jealousy, she had transferred it into rage and anger. Miroku had tried to laugh it off, but he quickly realized if he did, he would only make Sango even more upset. So he had apologized and told her that the other girls really didn't matter to him. Only she did.

 

Miroku would have been pleased if they had had their happily ever after ending right there. They could have run off and had lots of children and lived out the rest of their days in some remote part of Japan that neither demons nor humans cared to visit. But they had their responsibility to Kagome, and Sango would never abandon the girl she had loved so dearly.

 

“What are you smiling about, houshi-sama?” Sango asked. She only used his title when she was teasing him.

 

“Surely you are implying that I am thinking dirty thoughts about you, my sweet Sango,” Miroku replied, feigning offense.

 

“Would I imply anything else?” Sango asked with mock sweetness.

 

Miroku laughed, leaning close to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Of course you wouldn't,” he replied. “But at least you know that I'm thinking only about you.”

 

A blush colored Sango's cheeks and she said nothing for a moment. “Miroku…?”

 

“Yes?” he asked, looking down at her prettily stained cheeks.

 

“When this is over… Can we…” Sango trailed off.

 

With a squeeze to the hand he still held, Miroku nodded. “Yes,” he told her.

 

Sango returned the squeeze and the group of three continued their journey to the palace, mostly in silence. Only the sun dancing across the sky indicated the passing of time as they walked. The trees had grown so tall that it was impossible to see the palace above their branches, so they could not gauge their distance that way as they had been able to years before.

 

Rounding the final bend that would take them to the village that once surrounded the palace, the group drew up short. Miroku's eyebrows shot upwards as he stared at the briars that had grown up in the last sixty years, and he glanced at Sango.

 

“That's new,” he commented dryly, not sure what else to say or how to take the plant's appearance. “Do you think it was part of the miko, Kikyou's, magic?”

 

Sango shook her head, taking in the briars with wide eyes. “I don't know. They weren't here before. You would have thought that they would have appeared when the magic first set in,” she said.

 

“Magic can be a fickle thing,” Miroku muttered.

 

Sango opened her mouth to reply when Kirara leaped from her shoulder, hissing, and started running around the perimeter of the briars. The priest and the demon hunter glanced at each other before quickly turning to follow the neko yokai. As they ran after Kirara, both sensed a presence they hadn't a moment before.

 

“Sango—”

 

“I sense it, too,” Sango replied instantly, cutting him off. “Another yokai is here.” She adjusted hiraikotsu on her back, and Miroku smiled to himself and shook his head. No doubt the demon hunter would be put off at having to fight in her kimono.

 

Coming around one more turn, Sango and Miroku both stopped running, their eyes alighting on a yokai hovering a short distance away from the briars and a meter or two off the ground. Her dark hair was pulled back, but a few stray pieces snapped about her face in the wind that she seemed to be creating. Her red eyes were narrowed and focused on another yokai standing in front of the briars. Little arms spread wide, the small kitsune yokai hissed at the female. Neither seemed too aware of the humans.

 

“Move aside!” the female yokai commanded, the wind whipping about with her agitation.

 

“No!” the small kitsune shouted back, his green eyes full of determination. “You can't go! I won't let you!”

 

“Foolish little kit,” the yokai sneered. “Do you think you can stop me?”

 

“He might not be able to, but we certainly can!” Sango shouted, suddenly finding the voice she had lost. Kirara sat patiently at her mistress's side, her tails twitching in anticipation.

 

Both yokai turned to Sango and Miroku, who were both poised to strike. Hiraikotsu rested in Sango's hand, and she was ready to throw the deadly weapon. Beside her, Miroku had his hand on the rosary binding his kazaana, ready to pull it off. The kitsune looked relieved to see others who could aide him, while the female yokai looked exceedingly irritated.

 

Sneering, the female held up a hand. An eddy of wind swirled about her limb and she readied herself to hurl it at the humans. “As if you could stop me,” she snarled to them, red eyes still narrowed. She pulled her arm back, ready to throw the eddy forward, when she froze abruptly, the wind about her dying.

 

Miroku glanced at Sango, who gave him a bewildered expression.

 

“We could stop you,” Miroku told the yokai, his grip on the rosary beads tightening. “We've fought worse than you.”

 

“I doubt that,” the female yokai growled. With a snarl, she pulled a feather from her hair, and it grew, allowing her to sit on it as she floated away.

 

“Coward!” the little kitsune suddenly called from his place beside the briars. “Don't run away! Come back here and face us boldly!”

“You're one to talk, runt,” Sango said, her tone dry, as she lowered hiraikotsu. She reached for the pack that she had dropped when she and Miroku had arrived at the scene. Frowning at it momentarily, Sango wondered when she actually had dropped it. She couldn't remember.

 

“What do you mean?” the kitsune demanded. “I was defending the castle from that witch!”

 

“Were you now?” Miroku asked, his tone indulgent. He approached the kitsune and knelt before him. “And why would you do that?”

 

The kitsune crossed his arms and gave Miroku and imperious look. “Because someone has to keep the princess safe from the wind witch,” he replied succinctly.

 

Interest flashed in both human's eyes at the mention of the princess, and Miroku leaned forward slightly. “You know about the princess sleeping inside the palace?” he asked softly.

 

The kitsune nodded. “Of course I do. My entire clan knows.” A frown creased his brow. “Or, rather, they did know. That stupid wind witch killed them!” he wailed, tears suddenly welling up in his eyes.

 

Sango knelt beside Miroku and reached out a hand to the kitsune. The small yokai launched himself straight into her arms, clinging to her. Gently, Sango ran her hand down the tiny creature's back, trying to sooth him. “You're the only one left?” she asked him, giving Miroku a meaningful look.

 

The tiny kit nodded against her shoulder. “She killed my entire family since they wouldn't let her near the palace and the princess. Right before she killed my father, he used his magic to make the briars. He and I were the last ones alive,” the boy explained around broken sobs.

 

Kirara made a quiet noise and rubbed her head against the yokai's dangling foot, as if trying to console him. Sango smiled down at her friend, continuing to rub the little kitsune's back.

 

“You did a good job defending the castle,” Sango told the kit.

 

Miroku nodded in agreement, giving an affirming grunt. “Sango is right. You were very brave to stand up to her…” Miroku trailed off, not knowing the yokai's name. “What's your name, kit?”

 

“Shippou,” the kitsune replied, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Who're you?”

 

“My name is Sango,” Sango told him gently, giving Shippou a small smile. “The monk is Miroku and my neko yokai's name is Kirara.”

 

“You aren't going to hurt the princess, are you?” Shippou asked, suddenly wary.

 

Miroku shook his head with a small laugh. “We'd never hurt Kagome,” he told the kit. “She's our friend.”

 

Shippou's green eyes widened. “But that would make you…” He hesitated, scrunching up his face as he tried to process the numbers in his head. Finally, he just said simply, “That would make you really old! And humans can't live to be that old.”

 

“Have you seen the sleeping people inside the castle?” Sango asked. Shippou nodded. “Well, the same miko that put all those people to sleep put a special spell on Miroku and me so that we wouldn't die,” she explained. “We're trying to find the yokai who can take the poison out of Kagome, the princess, so that she wakes up.”

 

Shippou's eyes widened again in sudden awe. “Wow…” he breathed. The awe on his face suddenly vanished, replaced with childish enthusiasm. “I'll help!” he exclaimed, pulling free from Sango's arms to jump up and down merrily. “I'll help you!”

 

Miroku laughed warmly and patted the kitsune's head, much to the kit's annoyance. “Why would you want to do that?” he asked.

 

“Because! I want to help the pretty princess, too! Just like my father and my family did,” Shippou replied, crossing his arms and fixing Miroku with a determined look.

 

Frowning, Sango cocked her head to one side. “Why did your family want to protect the princess?” she queried.

 

Shippou opened his mouth to reply, then paused. His face scrunched up again as he thought. “I don't know,” he finally answered with a small shrug. “But my father always said that the princess was a special person and that she guarded something special. He wasn't sure what it was, only that it was powerful. Then that stupid wind witch showed up and demanded that we take her to the… the Shikon Jewel.”

 

“The Shikon Jewel?” the two demanded, at nearly the same time. The two looked at each other for a moment, confused.

 

“But Kikyou used the Jewel in her spell. It went away when she made her wish, didn't it?” Sango asked.

 

“I told you magic was a fickle thing,” Miroku replied, glancing away, brows furrowed in thought. After a moment, he shook his head to clear it and glanced back up. “Well, it's not so important to figure out right now,” he said. “It's late, and I'm hungry. What do you say we make a little camp here and start traveling in the morning.”

 

“I want to come!” Shippou exclaimed, jumping up and down again. “I want to help protect the princess!”

 

Laughing, Sango began picking through her pack for the food they had collected while at the village. “I don't see why not,” she replied to him as Miroku picked up some branches before clearing a space for a fire.

 

With an exuberant exclamation, Shippou danced a merry circle around Sango and Kirara, while the latter regarded him with what could only be construed as an amused expression.

 

When the fire was built up and the group had eaten their fill of vegetables and rice, Sango looked up at Miroku. “Why don't you get out the fire orb and see if it has any direction to give us,” she suggested to him. Miroku nodded and turned, digging through his bag.

 

“Fire orb?” Shippou asked, looking up at Sango. “What's that?”

 

“When Kagome was born,” Sango explained, “her parents invited all the taiyokai to a party, along with eight miko, and all their nobles. The taiyokai and the miko each gave her a special gift.”

 

Shippou listened, enraptured. “It sounds like a fairytale,” he said, a bit breathless to think about what wonderful gifts the princess Kagome had undoubtedly received.

 

Sango laughed. “I suppose it was. I wasn't there for it,” she said. “One of the gifts was an orb filled with fire that would never go out. It was from the taiyokai of the east.” Sango pointed to the orb as Miroku held it out for the kit's inspection.

 

“It doesn't burn when you hold it,” Shippou said wonderingly, turning the orb in his paws, careful not to drop it.

 

“No,” Sango replied. “And it can do other things, not just provide unceasing light.”

 

Miroku plucked the orb from Shippou and cupped it in his left hand. He held it up, level with his eyes. “I wish to see the path that will lead me to my destination,” he said to the orb. The fire inside flickered momentarily, and then a thin beam of light extended from the glass, pointing to the west.

 

Shippou leaped to his feet, eyes wide with excitement. “Wow!” he shouted. “That's amazing!”

 

“It's pretty handy, I must agree,” Miroku replied. “That's the way we'll be heading in the morning, then.”

 

Sango looked up from petting Kirara, who had settled into her lap in Shippou's absence. “Do you think it's a good idea to leave while that wind witch is sniffing around?” she asked, concerned.

 

“I don't think she'll be back for a while,” Shippou replied. “When Kagura leaves like that, she doesn't come back for weeks.” His expression dropped. “But when she does, someone always dies.”

 

Sango gave the kitsune a small smile, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry. The wind witch won't be able to kill us,” she told him.

 

“That's what the other kitsune thought,” Shippou mumbled, sniffling and wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

 

Over Shippou's head, the two humans looked at each other. There was nothing they could say to that statement, and they both knew it. With a comforting smile, Miroku urged Shippou over to the place he would be sleeping.

 

“Come on, kit,” Miroku said. “Let's call it a night. Tomorrow, while we're walking, we'll tell you all sorts of unbelievable stories.”

 

“Promise?” Shippou asked with a yawn.

 

“Promise,” Miroku replied, lying down on the blanket that covered the earth. He pulled another blanket over himself and the kit, watching Sango settle into her bed on the other side of the fire. She gave him a smile before closing her eyes, Kirara curled up at her side.

 

“Aren't you afraid to sleep?” Shippou asked with another yawn.

 

“No,” Miroku replied. “Yokai tend to stay away from the palace because of the miko's spell. And you just said Kagura wouldn't be back for a while.”

 

Shippou nodded. “Right,” he mumbled as sleep began to cloud his over-taxed mind. “Night.”

 

“Good night, Shippou,” Miroku murmured, tucking the kit close to his chest and closing his eyes.

 

---

 

After nearly five hundred years of traveling, the different villages started to blur together. There was less and less, Sango had found, to distinguish one from the next. In fact, as Miroku convinced the elder of the current village that there was a restless spirit living in his house, she found herself wondering if they hadn't just left this village a few days before.

 

Having Shippou along was a benefit, though. His view on the journey was so fresh that it gave both Sango and Miroku a newfound energy. The little kit was determined to help them find the yokai who would wake their princess, and his resolve was infectious. Sango hadn't felt so motivated in nearly three hundred years.

 

When she realized that she had been so unmotivated, Sango wanted to beat herself. It had been a steady wearing down over the years, a tiredness from working tirelessly to spread Kagome's story, that had caused her to lose her resolve. But with the addition of Shippou to their group, she found that she once again told about the sleeping princess with an eagerness that drew in her audience.

 

Sitting back, finished with her tale, Sango looked over the audience she had been regaling in the center of the village. The children were already running off, the girls clamoring that they wanted to be the princess, while the boys fought over who would be the yokai. The adults glanced at each other, murmuring softly to each other. Clearly, they didn't believe her story.

 

Sighing, Sango watched the people depart. She looked down at Shippou, who was sitting beside her, arms folded in his haori and a dark expression on his face.

 

“They're stupid,” he stated.

 

A small smile appeared on Sango's face. “There's less magic in the world now than there once was,” she replied. “Sixty years ago, those same people would have believed us.”

 

“What changed?” Shippou asked, looking up, obviously confused and desperately wanting an answer.

 

Sango shook her head. “I don't know, Shippou,” she murmured, her voice filled with sadness. “I don't know.”

 

Miroku approached the two from one side. “Sango! Shippou!” he called as he neared. “The elder has requested that we stay the night in his home, in order to repay us for putting the spirits to rest.”

 

Sango shot Miroku a dark look. Although she had grown used to the lies about spirits in houses, she still didn't approve. Miroku gave her a cocky smile in return, pulling her up from where she had been sitting, dislodging Kirara from her lap. The neko yokai promptly leapt to the woman's shoulders. Shippou grabbed Miroku's free hand, and the monk released Sango, swinging the kitsune into his arms.

 

“Come on, then,” he said to them. “The elder was just telling me about the marvelous dinner the women in his house have cooked up for us.”

 

“I can't wait. I'm starving!” Shippou exclaimed.

 

“You aren't starving,” Sango replied, giving him one of her looks. “You just ate an apple that I bought for you.”

 

“But that was ten minutes ago,” Shippou told her, as if that made all the difference. “Ten minutes ago, I ate an apple and wasn't hungry. But I'm hungry now.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Sango approached the elder's house. The old man was waiting outside for them, and he gave them a polite bow when he saw her approaching.

 

“Sango-san,” he greeted. “Houshi-sama. We are honored to have you in our house.”

 

Sango and Miroku returned the bow.

 

“We are honored that you have let us take advantage of your hospitality,” Sango replied, slipping her shoes off as she stepped into the room that the elder showed them to.

 

Miroku followed, removing his shoes as well, setting Shippou on the tatami mats. The group settled around the table that sat in the middle of the room.

 

Smiling kindly, the elder waved at the miso soup that lay waiting for them. “Please, eat,” he told them, folding his gnarled hands in his lap. “I find that miso does not agree with me anymore.”

 

Shippou took complete advantage of the permission to eat, digging voraciously into the meal before him. Miroku was only slightly more reserved than Shippou, and Sango found herself rolling her eyes at the two. Men, she thought to herself. Taking a spoonful of soup herself, she looked up at the elder and found him smiling indulgently, his gray eyes twinkling.

 

“I cannot begin to express my thanks, houshi-sama, that you have removed the spirits from my home,” the elder said when Miroku finally set his spoon down.

 

“It was no problem, truly,” Miroku replied, trying to sound as humble as possible. “I would not want my fellow man in danger from vengeful phantoms.”

 

Sango rolled her eyes, one hand scratching Kirara's head idly as she took another sip from her spoon.

 

“I don't wish to intrude, but where are you traveling?” the elder asked. “You are such an odd group. I would never expect a demon hunter to travel with yokai.”

 

Sango glanced at Shippou, who was still attacking his soup. She wondered if he realized he wasn't getting any of it on his spoon before she looked down at Kirara. “They're friends,” was all she said.

 

“Clearly,” the elder agreed, a kind smile on his face.

 

There was a moment of silence before Miroku finally spoke up, answering the elder's question. “We are actually on a quest of sorts. I assume you heard the story Sango told the villagers?” he asked.

 

The elder allowed a small smile and he nodded his bald head. “My older sister used to tell it to me. She heard it from my mother,” he replied.

 

“We're looking for the yokai who will wake the princess,” Miroku told the man, bracing himself for the jeering he was sure would come.

 

“I figured that was your purpose,” the elder said, regarding the hands in his lap. He looked up at Sango and Miroku's shocked faces. “Children, children. I am a man who grew up surrounded by more magic than any of these people will ever hope to see. I believe your story quite readily.” He paused, a pensive look crossing over his face. “Although, I suppose I shouldn't call you children, should I?” There was a wry look on his face as he regarded the two humans.

 

“No,” Sango finally said after a pregnant pause. “You probably shouldn't.”

 

“Tell me, do you have any idea of who you should look for?” the elder asked.

 

“All we have,” Miroku replied, “is an image provided from a magic mirror. It was a gift to the princess we hope to save from a yokai who once ruled the north.” Miroku glanced at Sango, and the woman turned to her bag, shuffling around inside it before fining the wrapped mirror.

 

Pulling it out, the demon hunter carefully unwrapped the ice and glass mirror, setting it carefully on the table. “The mirror is set in ice,” Sango explained as smoothed the wrappings down on the table.

 

Miroku pulled the mirror into the center of the table by a corner of the wrapping. Neither he nor Sango touched it, and their careful handling would ensure the elder thought the mirror too fragile to touch. “One needs only wish to see someone, and the mirror will display that person,” he continued. “I wish to see the yokai who will save the princess.”

 

Like always, a silver mist fluttered across the glass, interrupted by blue lightning.

 

The elder peered at the glass, curious. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, but he said nothing for a long while. Finally, the elder leaned back, closing his grey eyes. “I have heard of a powerful yokai, a taiyokai, who wields blue lightning,” he said quietly.

 

Sango felt the fingers of excitement dance along her spine as she sat a bit straighter. Kirara picked up her head, and even Shippou stopped his assault on the soup he was still trying to eat.

 

“A taiyokai…” Miroku murmured, his eyes fixed on the image in the mirror. Slowly, the silver mist and blue lightning faded, and Miroku reached out, folding the fabric back over the mirror and tying it in place. Gently, he handed the wrapped mirror to Sango, who placed it back in her bag.

 

As if sensing the sudden excitement in the group, the elder leaned forward, eyes snapping open. “You do not want to seek out this yokai,” he said, his tone grave. “He is a dangerous creature and hates humans. I can't believe that he is the one who would wake your princess.”

 

“Nevertheless, it is a lead,” Miroku replied. “Even if he won't help, he might know someone who will.”

 

“You have dealt with taiyokai before?” the elder asked, folding his hands on the table. Miroku and Sango nodded. “Then you know the bitterness they harbor toward humans. Do not seek the aid of this taiyokai.”

 

Sango shook her head. “We appreciate your concern, but this is a lead we have to follow,” she told the elder. “Please, can you give us a direction to head in when we leave tomorrow morning?”

 

She watched the man hesitate, taking a slow sip of tea. Setting the glass down, the elder closed his eyes. “The last I heard of him, he was traveling toward the southeast,” the elder lied.

 

A smile blossomed across Sango's face. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to touch the elder's hand. “You don't know how much it means to us, having this lead.”

 

The elder withdrew his hand from under Sango's touch. “If you value your lives, you will forget about this yokai,” the elder said. “The stories I have heard of him are… less than pleasant.”

 

Miroku shook his head. “We want to save our friend,” the monk told the elder. “And we would go to the depths of hell to do so.”

 

The elder said nothing as the group finished eating and retired. He continued to sit, alone, long after the visitors had left. Guilt for lying to people so devoted nagged at him, demanding that he tell the truth about where the taiyokai traveled. But he couldn't. If they ever came into contact with the monster, their lives were forfeit.

 

 

 

For a while, I don't know how much of this I will be able to update. I'm currently in training as a scuba diving Divemaster. Tomorrow and Sunday, I'm spending the afternoon in a quarry to get my Rescue certification. The following week I get to start doing all the crazy work being a Divemaster entails, including taking eight tests and learning all about physics, chemistry, and physiology in relation to diving. After I take my first three tests, I get to start working with classes as an intern, even though I won't be a full Divemaster until I take the other five tests, as well as particle in the water. Wish me luck, and I'll do my best to keep updating!