InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tangled Destiny ❯ As Old As Time ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: squeakyinuears 
This fic is an Inuyasha story with a healthy dose of fairy tales sprinkled in. If you do not like fairy tales, then let us be realistic. This story is not for you.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.30.2004 | Updated On: 05.30.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 336 | Status: Completed
This fic is an Inuyasha story with a healthy dose of fairy tales sprinkled in. If you do not like fairy tales, then let us be realistic. This story is not for you.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.30.2004 | Updated On: 05.30.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 336 | Status: Completed
Tangled Destiny
By Squeakyinuears
Disclaimer: I do not own the cast of Inuyasha in any way, shape, or form, but occasionally I'll have them over for tea and cucumber sandwiches.
This newest story is influenced, in part, by the books "Goose Chase," by Patrice Kindl, and "The Fairy Godmother" by Mercedes Lackey, neither of which I own.
And while I'm at it, I suppose I should mention that none of the fairy tales alluded to in here belong to me - they belong to the Brothers Grimm, Hans Andersen, and/or Disney.
This has also NOTHING to do with "Shrek 2" coming out in theaters. 'Tis merely a coincidence, I assure you.
I'd like to thank Alesyira for her comments at GT, and Kat Morning for beta-ing this chapter, as always - and I'm still rather stunned there were so few pink notes. O.o
-
Chapter 1 - As Old As Time
"Hair brings one's self-image into focus; it is vanity's proving ground. Hair is terribly personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices." - Shana Alexander
-
My name is Higurashi Kagome, and I hate my hair.
Please do not mistake me. My hair, in and of itself, is actually quite beautiful. I am not being vain, I am merely pointing out a fact. It is long and silky with the ends slightly curling up in artless disarray. Blacker than a raven's wing, it almost shines blue in the light, and is soft to the touch.
Why do I loath my tresses, then, you may ask? Well, I believe I have already mentioned that my hair is long. Not long, however, in the sense that it reaches past my waist, or even that it hits the back of my knees. No, it is much longer than that. Think yards and yards long; as long as the length of a large ballroom. As long as seven bed sheets, sewn end to end. As long as the height of a single, lone tower.
That is how long my hair is. And let me tell you, all that hair is HEAVY. Having so much weight pulling on your head is no picnic, and now imagine carrying that weight day in and day out, with never any breaks or respites in between.
And the CARE involved! With the majority of it dragging on the ground all day, I need to wash it every evening. Simply the act of washing takes me at least two hours each night. If I do not keep it clean, who knows what creatures will try to make a nest in it? The thought is enough to make anyone squirm - and to make me endure the nightly lathering.
The sugar on the cake, however, is that when you have hair that is so long, people tend to want to exploit it. Take the Witch, for example. It is always, "Kagome, Kagome, let down your hair," in that reedy, cackling voice of hers.
Even the Prince wants to use my hair for his own benefit. Prince Kouga, to be exact. He is a wolf youkai who hails from the neighboring kingdom, and attempts to persuade me each day to put my hair to better use.
Allow me to explain. I live in a tower. Many people do, but none live in MY kind of tower. My home is a lone structure standing four stories high, deep within the wild forests. There is no door, and exactly one window, high at the top story. And not even a bay window, at that.
It has been my home for seventeen years, and I have never stepped foot outside. Not for lack of trying, though, believe me. Unfortunately, I only have one bed sheet, one blanket, one kimono set, and one under-kimono to my name. (No need to cringe - they are spelled to be both self-cleansing and self-mending). There are no curtains, no scissors, no needles, and no thread - nothing I could use to create a means of escape. Four stories is a bit too high for me to jump, and I have no intention of breaking my neck just yet.
In many ways, it is a lonely life, I must admit. My friends are the birds, the squirrels, and the occasional deer that visit the tower. Sometimes I talk with them, but the conversations are, of course, sadly one-sided. Other times, I make up my own songs, and sing to an audience who cannot boo and jeer at my less-than-perfect warbling. Pathetic, I know.
There are some perks, however. With practically nothing to do, I can devote almost my entire time to books. They are my windows to the outside world, and they range in subjects from the Histories of our kingdom to the ways of life on a farm.
I may not be able to cook, or sew, or milk a cow, but I am confident I would certainly know HOW to do it, if ever given the opportunity.
It was the historical fairy tales of princes, dragons and sleeping maidens that drew me as a little girl, however. One story in particular, I found, greatly resembled my own. Many people have heard the story of Rapunzel, or Kikyou, or whatever you choose to call her; but most people do not discover their own life in the pages of a book. It is more than a bit disturbing.
Generations before I was born, there was indeed another girl who was forced to stay locked up in a tower by a scheming witch, and she too possessed abnormally long hair.
Apparently, Kikyou met a prince and they fell in love. Unfortunately, the witch in HER life found out about them, and tossed the prince out the window, where he most likely fell to his death. Either that, or he was blinded by the thorn-plants below, and wandered around sightless for the rest of his life. The Histories disagree upon this point.
Of Kikyou, however, my books are quite clear. She was so aggrieved that she purposely pricked herself with the spindle of a spinning wheel and instantly died, losing her pain in death.
Luckily, our lives seem to split well before that point. While this Kikyou girl was cast into her fate because of pregnancy cravings and salad rampion, I am of the opinion that my life, to put it simply, just sucks.
Still, Kikyou's story is a rather sad one. . . very well, it is a really sad one. I know I should probably be more sympathetic about their plight, but it is difficult endeavoring to cry over people who died long ago, and whom you have never met.
The resemblance between the lives Kikyou and I were similar enough, however, that I studied the Histories avidly as a child, determined that my destiny would not be the same as hers. In this topsy-turvy world of mine, one must be ready for any kind of magical interventions thrown one's way.
My world is actually made up of dozens and dozens of small kingdoms. And each and every one of them is held under sway by the Histories of the past. The Histories cannot be expected to be completely accurate to the letter - different situations in each life are factors that will change the flow of each tale - but time has proved that they are ALWAYS correct by the end.
The prince still wakes up the sleeping girl with a kiss, no matter if he reached her by cutting through a thorny garden or if he had to kill a dragon. The maid-who-never-had-a-tan-in-her-life is still presented with different trials, no matter if she was first given spelled combs and deadly laces, or if the impatient queen went straight to the poisoned apple (or even if she did not have vertically-challenged men helping her). The end result is the same, no matter the varying circumstances in-between.
It is rumored that in a different world - in many ways similar to ours - there are people who do NOT believe in magic. Such a world sounds dreadful to me. How can those people not believe what is right in front of them?
Magic has such a permanent and solid place in my life it is hard to imagine a place without it. Not to say that it is always a good and benign thing, however. One look at the Histories will reveal that the endings are tragic ones more often than not. Yet, or better or worse, the magic is THERE. Our fairy tales are both the history books of the past and prophesies of the future. Knowing the roles you are expected to play is vital.
I now consider myself well versed in the matter of fairy tales.
As such, I knew immediately upon the appearance of a certain wolf that he was TROUBLE. It mattered not whether either of us were willing - simply the fact that he was a PRINCE, and I, a girl in a tower, signified that he suited the role and would be practically compelled to play out our miserable fate.
Prince Kouga was out hunting one day in the woods and chased a stag through the trees until he came to my part of the forest. He heard me singing. As the stories go, he was supposed to become dazzled with my heavenly voice, and search for the owner of said voice.
That is not exactly what happened, in my case.
It has already been said that my voice is by no means beautiful. I shall expand upon the matter a bit further and say that it is closer to a goose's honking than a nightingale's song. Though he will never admit it, I believe Kouga was first attracted to me because he mistook me for some sickly or injured animal calling out in its last moments on earth - and then, when he was close enough, he was attracted to my face.
It matters not exactly why we met, however, because it resulted in the same manner. Step One of the story was complete.
History then says that the prince, in his bewitchment, would seek to enter the tower, but unsuccessfully. After returning many times to hear my songs, and after falling in love deeper and deeper, he would then finally grow bold enough to address me.
Again, the books were not entirely accurate.
Prince Kouga is not shy. The day he blushes like a maiden is the day I manage to sing in tune. It did not take him trip upon trip before he could get up the nerve to make his presence known. Not hardly. Moments after he dashed into the clearing - and right after his youkai nose informed him I was NOT prey - he saw my face, announced to me in his bold, brash way that I was "cute", and declared me his "woman".
Exactly how he made this decision without any consent on my part remains a mystery to me, but decide he did, and he has subsequently managed to convince himself that we are meant to be. Step Two was achieved.
Accordingly, the prince is then supposed to implore me to tell him of the entrance to my high tower, whereupon he could woo me and plight his troth.
Now, I may have been raised in a tower, and I may be naive, but the first thing a girl learns is to never, ever let a stranger inside the house. Moreover, I am NOT ignorant to the evils of the world. The Witch - whom I am certain is really a baboon-outfitted magician in disguise - is living proof of that.
Even aside from tales of pigs with hairy chins and girls in red, I was NOT about to let some strange wolf trap me in my own room! It mattered not that he was of royal blood, or that his eyes were a striking shade of blue, or even that he tried to entice me with those legs of his. Well, this was one tower-maid who refused to be seduced!
The next phase of the conventional tale is for the prince to enter the tower, win over the maiden, and consequently bring dreary doom down upon them both.
Frankly, I do not wish for any kind of doom to befall me, particularly the dark and dreary kind. Should the final stage of the story occur, most likely Kouga will be horribly disfigured - if not killed outright - and I will be convinced that death is the only solution to my agony. As annoying as he can be, I do not wish such a terrible end to Kouga. And, I would also like to stay alive and spindle-free.
Therefore, I am bound and determined to remain unmoved towards the Prince's pledges of devotion, and to ignore his attempts to persuade me to "lower the ladder of love."
Said task is not so very difficult when the target recites such bad poetry and insists upon using such embarrassingly corny language.
No, my main difficulty lies in preventing the Witch from ever discovering Kouga's existence. I am not entirely sure whether even simply seeing the Prince will constitute adequate reason for our sad demise. Though it did not happen in the past, a girl can never be too careful.
However, Prince Kouga is very stubborn in his affections, and WILL come to visit me every single day. His loyalty is endearing, I must admit, and if it were not for the ghostly spindle I can almost see hovering before my eyes, I believe that I really COULD come to love him.
Unfortunately, I do love my own life quite a bit more than any potential feelings I may hold for Kouga, and as such, my life is currently rather stressful, to put it lightly. In fact, it is a daily terror, struggling to reason an extremely willful and ardent man into leaving before the sun sets.
That is when the Witch comes to my tower each day - at dusk, when the sun is setting and the birds are flying home to roost. As a child, I used to view the darkening sky with both anticipation and dread. Excited, for that was when my meals would arrive, and scared, because. . . well, who would not be frightened of a white-furred crone? One who cackles, might I add? The Witch claims to be my "mother", but I know better. After all, there is no way he/she could have borne anyone as lovely as me.
Again, do not think I am vain. When I was born, four fairies each bestowed upon me a gift. Yes, four, not three. Now, the first fairy presented me with the gift of intelligence, and to her, I am eternally grateful. It appears, though, that she was the only one who had an actual head on her shoulders, because the other three gave me all the usual things. Beauty, grace, lips like rose petals and of all that useless fiddle-faddle.
How, I ask you, can anyone survive on big blue eyes and long eyelashes alone? No, I think I will put my trust on intelligence, thank you very much.
But I digress.
The last fairy gave me a rather unusual gift, even for someone not of this world. And I must say, it was the most worthless present of all. I am of the opinion that this particular fairy was an apprenticing one, for she chose to give me - of all things - LONG hair. Yes, I speak the truth. Long hair is all that this Mura, or Yura, or whatever-her-name-is woman bestowed upon me.
It is she, who gave me the cause of all my sorrow, the bane of my existence.
Who knew fairies had hair fetishes?
-
-
-
(The following translations is courtesy of Aino-kaachan, from her website. Thank you, Aino-kaachan!)
Japanese Translation:
youkai - The most common English translation is "demon". However, youkai is a broader term, referring to many sorts of (Japanese) mythological creatures and monsters with magical abilities.
-
A/N: Alright, I realize I have some explaining to do. . .
First of all, like I said up top, this story is influenced, in part, by "Goose Chase" by Patrice Kindl and "The Fairy Godmother" by Mercedes Lackey. "Goose Chase" is a wonderful book, and I guess I'm basing this fic in terms of general things, such as tone and humor for the most part. As much as I love the book and want to read it again, I am restraining myself, as I do not wish to inadvertently start copying the actual ideas and words.
From, "The Fairy Godmother", I am borrowing the idea of "Tradition" (and all that it entails), in here simply known as the Histories.
-
For the readers of TYRTM out there - do not worry! I am not abandoning it in any way. I DO intend to finish it first.
So, why on earth would I start yet another fic? Well, here's the thing. I have noticed that a few well-known authors are also intending on writing IY stories of a similar nature - fairy tales and such - and since I didn't want to be accused of stealing ideas from them, I decided to put out the first chapter of this story, to put my stake in it, so to speak.
This way, no one can say I copied them.
This chapter was most fun to write, and I believe it will be, on the whole, just a very fun story. Definitely not as dark as some of my other ones. I also don't believe it will be a very long story, either. Then again, TYRTM originally started out as a simple, 12-chapter romance, and we all know how well THAT plan turned out. . .
A big thank you to everyone who is reading this! Remember - it will probably not be updated for quite a while, but thank you all the same for reading!
By Squeakyinuears
Disclaimer: I do not own the cast of Inuyasha in any way, shape, or form, but occasionally I'll have them over for tea and cucumber sandwiches.
This newest story is influenced, in part, by the books "Goose Chase," by Patrice Kindl, and "The Fairy Godmother" by Mercedes Lackey, neither of which I own.
And while I'm at it, I suppose I should mention that none of the fairy tales alluded to in here belong to me - they belong to the Brothers Grimm, Hans Andersen, and/or Disney.
This has also NOTHING to do with "Shrek 2" coming out in theaters. 'Tis merely a coincidence, I assure you.
I'd like to thank Alesyira for her comments at GT, and Kat Morning for beta-ing this chapter, as always - and I'm still rather stunned there were so few pink notes. O.o
-
Chapter 1 - As Old As Time
"Hair brings one's self-image into focus; it is vanity's proving ground. Hair is terribly personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices." - Shana Alexander
-
My name is Higurashi Kagome, and I hate my hair.
Please do not mistake me. My hair, in and of itself, is actually quite beautiful. I am not being vain, I am merely pointing out a fact. It is long and silky with the ends slightly curling up in artless disarray. Blacker than a raven's wing, it almost shines blue in the light, and is soft to the touch.
Why do I loath my tresses, then, you may ask? Well, I believe I have already mentioned that my hair is long. Not long, however, in the sense that it reaches past my waist, or even that it hits the back of my knees. No, it is much longer than that. Think yards and yards long; as long as the length of a large ballroom. As long as seven bed sheets, sewn end to end. As long as the height of a single, lone tower.
That is how long my hair is. And let me tell you, all that hair is HEAVY. Having so much weight pulling on your head is no picnic, and now imagine carrying that weight day in and day out, with never any breaks or respites in between.
And the CARE involved! With the majority of it dragging on the ground all day, I need to wash it every evening. Simply the act of washing takes me at least two hours each night. If I do not keep it clean, who knows what creatures will try to make a nest in it? The thought is enough to make anyone squirm - and to make me endure the nightly lathering.
The sugar on the cake, however, is that when you have hair that is so long, people tend to want to exploit it. Take the Witch, for example. It is always, "Kagome, Kagome, let down your hair," in that reedy, cackling voice of hers.
Even the Prince wants to use my hair for his own benefit. Prince Kouga, to be exact. He is a wolf youkai who hails from the neighboring kingdom, and attempts to persuade me each day to put my hair to better use.
Allow me to explain. I live in a tower. Many people do, but none live in MY kind of tower. My home is a lone structure standing four stories high, deep within the wild forests. There is no door, and exactly one window, high at the top story. And not even a bay window, at that.
It has been my home for seventeen years, and I have never stepped foot outside. Not for lack of trying, though, believe me. Unfortunately, I only have one bed sheet, one blanket, one kimono set, and one under-kimono to my name. (No need to cringe - they are spelled to be both self-cleansing and self-mending). There are no curtains, no scissors, no needles, and no thread - nothing I could use to create a means of escape. Four stories is a bit too high for me to jump, and I have no intention of breaking my neck just yet.
In many ways, it is a lonely life, I must admit. My friends are the birds, the squirrels, and the occasional deer that visit the tower. Sometimes I talk with them, but the conversations are, of course, sadly one-sided. Other times, I make up my own songs, and sing to an audience who cannot boo and jeer at my less-than-perfect warbling. Pathetic, I know.
There are some perks, however. With practically nothing to do, I can devote almost my entire time to books. They are my windows to the outside world, and they range in subjects from the Histories of our kingdom to the ways of life on a farm.
I may not be able to cook, or sew, or milk a cow, but I am confident I would certainly know HOW to do it, if ever given the opportunity.
It was the historical fairy tales of princes, dragons and sleeping maidens that drew me as a little girl, however. One story in particular, I found, greatly resembled my own. Many people have heard the story of Rapunzel, or Kikyou, or whatever you choose to call her; but most people do not discover their own life in the pages of a book. It is more than a bit disturbing.
Generations before I was born, there was indeed another girl who was forced to stay locked up in a tower by a scheming witch, and she too possessed abnormally long hair.
Apparently, Kikyou met a prince and they fell in love. Unfortunately, the witch in HER life found out about them, and tossed the prince out the window, where he most likely fell to his death. Either that, or he was blinded by the thorn-plants below, and wandered around sightless for the rest of his life. The Histories disagree upon this point.
Of Kikyou, however, my books are quite clear. She was so aggrieved that she purposely pricked herself with the spindle of a spinning wheel and instantly died, losing her pain in death.
Luckily, our lives seem to split well before that point. While this Kikyou girl was cast into her fate because of pregnancy cravings and salad rampion, I am of the opinion that my life, to put it simply, just sucks.
Still, Kikyou's story is a rather sad one. . . very well, it is a really sad one. I know I should probably be more sympathetic about their plight, but it is difficult endeavoring to cry over people who died long ago, and whom you have never met.
The resemblance between the lives Kikyou and I were similar enough, however, that I studied the Histories avidly as a child, determined that my destiny would not be the same as hers. In this topsy-turvy world of mine, one must be ready for any kind of magical interventions thrown one's way.
My world is actually made up of dozens and dozens of small kingdoms. And each and every one of them is held under sway by the Histories of the past. The Histories cannot be expected to be completely accurate to the letter - different situations in each life are factors that will change the flow of each tale - but time has proved that they are ALWAYS correct by the end.
The prince still wakes up the sleeping girl with a kiss, no matter if he reached her by cutting through a thorny garden or if he had to kill a dragon. The maid-who-never-had-a-tan-in-her-life is still presented with different trials, no matter if she was first given spelled combs and deadly laces, or if the impatient queen went straight to the poisoned apple (or even if she did not have vertically-challenged men helping her). The end result is the same, no matter the varying circumstances in-between.
It is rumored that in a different world - in many ways similar to ours - there are people who do NOT believe in magic. Such a world sounds dreadful to me. How can those people not believe what is right in front of them?
Magic has such a permanent and solid place in my life it is hard to imagine a place without it. Not to say that it is always a good and benign thing, however. One look at the Histories will reveal that the endings are tragic ones more often than not. Yet, or better or worse, the magic is THERE. Our fairy tales are both the history books of the past and prophesies of the future. Knowing the roles you are expected to play is vital.
I now consider myself well versed in the matter of fairy tales.
As such, I knew immediately upon the appearance of a certain wolf that he was TROUBLE. It mattered not whether either of us were willing - simply the fact that he was a PRINCE, and I, a girl in a tower, signified that he suited the role and would be practically compelled to play out our miserable fate.
Prince Kouga was out hunting one day in the woods and chased a stag through the trees until he came to my part of the forest. He heard me singing. As the stories go, he was supposed to become dazzled with my heavenly voice, and search for the owner of said voice.
That is not exactly what happened, in my case.
It has already been said that my voice is by no means beautiful. I shall expand upon the matter a bit further and say that it is closer to a goose's honking than a nightingale's song. Though he will never admit it, I believe Kouga was first attracted to me because he mistook me for some sickly or injured animal calling out in its last moments on earth - and then, when he was close enough, he was attracted to my face.
It matters not exactly why we met, however, because it resulted in the same manner. Step One of the story was complete.
History then says that the prince, in his bewitchment, would seek to enter the tower, but unsuccessfully. After returning many times to hear my songs, and after falling in love deeper and deeper, he would then finally grow bold enough to address me.
Again, the books were not entirely accurate.
Prince Kouga is not shy. The day he blushes like a maiden is the day I manage to sing in tune. It did not take him trip upon trip before he could get up the nerve to make his presence known. Not hardly. Moments after he dashed into the clearing - and right after his youkai nose informed him I was NOT prey - he saw my face, announced to me in his bold, brash way that I was "cute", and declared me his "woman".
Exactly how he made this decision without any consent on my part remains a mystery to me, but decide he did, and he has subsequently managed to convince himself that we are meant to be. Step Two was achieved.
Accordingly, the prince is then supposed to implore me to tell him of the entrance to my high tower, whereupon he could woo me and plight his troth.
Now, I may have been raised in a tower, and I may be naive, but the first thing a girl learns is to never, ever let a stranger inside the house. Moreover, I am NOT ignorant to the evils of the world. The Witch - whom I am certain is really a baboon-outfitted magician in disguise - is living proof of that.
Even aside from tales of pigs with hairy chins and girls in red, I was NOT about to let some strange wolf trap me in my own room! It mattered not that he was of royal blood, or that his eyes were a striking shade of blue, or even that he tried to entice me with those legs of his. Well, this was one tower-maid who refused to be seduced!
The next phase of the conventional tale is for the prince to enter the tower, win over the maiden, and consequently bring dreary doom down upon them both.
Frankly, I do not wish for any kind of doom to befall me, particularly the dark and dreary kind. Should the final stage of the story occur, most likely Kouga will be horribly disfigured - if not killed outright - and I will be convinced that death is the only solution to my agony. As annoying as he can be, I do not wish such a terrible end to Kouga. And, I would also like to stay alive and spindle-free.
Therefore, I am bound and determined to remain unmoved towards the Prince's pledges of devotion, and to ignore his attempts to persuade me to "lower the ladder of love."
Said task is not so very difficult when the target recites such bad poetry and insists upon using such embarrassingly corny language.
No, my main difficulty lies in preventing the Witch from ever discovering Kouga's existence. I am not entirely sure whether even simply seeing the Prince will constitute adequate reason for our sad demise. Though it did not happen in the past, a girl can never be too careful.
However, Prince Kouga is very stubborn in his affections, and WILL come to visit me every single day. His loyalty is endearing, I must admit, and if it were not for the ghostly spindle I can almost see hovering before my eyes, I believe that I really COULD come to love him.
Unfortunately, I do love my own life quite a bit more than any potential feelings I may hold for Kouga, and as such, my life is currently rather stressful, to put it lightly. In fact, it is a daily terror, struggling to reason an extremely willful and ardent man into leaving before the sun sets.
That is when the Witch comes to my tower each day - at dusk, when the sun is setting and the birds are flying home to roost. As a child, I used to view the darkening sky with both anticipation and dread. Excited, for that was when my meals would arrive, and scared, because. . . well, who would not be frightened of a white-furred crone? One who cackles, might I add? The Witch claims to be my "mother", but I know better. After all, there is no way he/she could have borne anyone as lovely as me.
Again, do not think I am vain. When I was born, four fairies each bestowed upon me a gift. Yes, four, not three. Now, the first fairy presented me with the gift of intelligence, and to her, I am eternally grateful. It appears, though, that she was the only one who had an actual head on her shoulders, because the other three gave me all the usual things. Beauty, grace, lips like rose petals and of all that useless fiddle-faddle.
How, I ask you, can anyone survive on big blue eyes and long eyelashes alone? No, I think I will put my trust on intelligence, thank you very much.
But I digress.
The last fairy gave me a rather unusual gift, even for someone not of this world. And I must say, it was the most worthless present of all. I am of the opinion that this particular fairy was an apprenticing one, for she chose to give me - of all things - LONG hair. Yes, I speak the truth. Long hair is all that this Mura, or Yura, or whatever-her-name-is woman bestowed upon me.
It is she, who gave me the cause of all my sorrow, the bane of my existence.
Who knew fairies had hair fetishes?
-
-
-
(The following translations is courtesy of Aino-kaachan, from her website. Thank you, Aino-kaachan!)
Japanese Translation:
youkai - The most common English translation is "demon". However, youkai is a broader term, referring to many sorts of (Japanese) mythological creatures and monsters with magical abilities.
-
A/N: Alright, I realize I have some explaining to do. . .
First of all, like I said up top, this story is influenced, in part, by "Goose Chase" by Patrice Kindl and "The Fairy Godmother" by Mercedes Lackey. "Goose Chase" is a wonderful book, and I guess I'm basing this fic in terms of general things, such as tone and humor for the most part. As much as I love the book and want to read it again, I am restraining myself, as I do not wish to inadvertently start copying the actual ideas and words.
From, "The Fairy Godmother", I am borrowing the idea of "Tradition" (and all that it entails), in here simply known as the Histories.
-
For the readers of TYRTM out there - do not worry! I am not abandoning it in any way. I DO intend to finish it first.
So, why on earth would I start yet another fic? Well, here's the thing. I have noticed that a few well-known authors are also intending on writing IY stories of a similar nature - fairy tales and such - and since I didn't want to be accused of stealing ideas from them, I decided to put out the first chapter of this story, to put my stake in it, so to speak.
This way, no one can say I copied them.
This chapter was most fun to write, and I believe it will be, on the whole, just a very fun story. Definitely not as dark as some of my other ones. I also don't believe it will be a very long story, either. Then again, TYRTM originally started out as a simple, 12-chapter romance, and we all know how well THAT plan turned out. . .
A big thank you to everyone who is reading this! Remember - it will probably not be updated for quite a while, but thank you all the same for reading!