InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Art of Tea - ON HOLD ❯ Chapter Three - Macha ( Chapter 3 )

 

DISCLAIMER - The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.

 

 

By: ElegantPaws

 

Edited by: Meara the Celt

 

Chapter Three is dedicated to Minerva One, writer of my current favourite one shot “Dear Diary.” Run don't walk to read it.

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

Chapter Three - Macha

 

“Lady Astor (infuriated): Mister Churchill, if I were your wife, I'd put poison in your tea.

Churchill: Madam, were I your husband, I would surely drink it."

 

-- An exchange overheard between Lady Astor and Winston Churchill that took place in the Houses of Parliament one day.

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

Continuing his ritual cleansing at the fountain's basin, Sesshoumaru gave a final predatory glance to the little garden. He could now hear her shuffling on the tatami toward the small opening to bid him enter. His face took on its usual impassive expression in anticipation.

 

The faint scent of aloes wood incense preceded the shoji sliding open, revealing the tearoom and a petite vision in gray silk.

 

Kagome, kneeling seiza style, remained bowed as she carefully and quietly opened the sliding door, internally reciting the four quintessential principles in the art of tea: tranquility, purity, harmony and respect in conduct with nature and the guest at all times.

 

He blinked in disbelief.

 

Sesshoumaru shielded his expression of surprise, though his citrine eyes drank her in greedily from head to toe, amazed at the transformation and amazed at her beauty and delicate grace. This was to be a chakai, a relatively simple tea, and yet she was dressed in a manner befitting a kaiseki and looked very much a lady worthy of a samurai.

 

Her head, dark and glossy, remained bowed as was customary, while ushering him in with a delicate gesture of her hand. Kagome's sooty lashes fluttered briefly as she carefully snuck a peak at him from beneath them. Her breath caught as their eyes met.

 

Whether it was nerves, or awareness of him as a desirable, dominant male, the Higurashi woman's temperature had elevated. Intriguing.

 

Sesshoumaru bowed perfunctorily. Either would suffice, he thought. There was surprise in her gaze, and an underlying challenge mixed with curiosity.

 

He bowed again, recovering himself, then crouched to enter in the small space provided. It was an intrinsic reminder that all who entered this sacred place should do so with humility. Personal status was to be left behind.

 

The door slid closed behind him quietly as she shuffled forward to prepare the utensils for tea.

 

“You may begin, Higurashi. Speak your mind, within reason, within the way.”

 

He felt her aura shift. She had stiffened at the use of her family name in so dispassionate and curt a manner. One silver brow quirked, his point had been made.

 

Keep the modern female on her toes. She had not shown him an ounce of respect earlier. He would take this opportunity to test her mettle, regardless of the precepts bestowed to the ceremony.

 

Turning his back to her, yellow eyes traveled the four and a half tatami enclosure with relative satisfaction, looking for the anomalous but finding none. It was only then his eyes fell on the print set lovingly and respectfully in the alcove.

 

Sesshoumaru noticed the tatami mats had been changed for the season and were a quiet, natural wheat in color. They were, in slight contrast to the mat of the sunken hearth and the bamboo accented walls, acceptable.

 

Never one to shuffle across the tatami, as tradition dictated, he strode to the Tokonoma with quiet purpose and kneeled seiza style in front of Hokusai's work with reverence.

 

She had kept it. That had been unexpected.

 

Kagome glared at his back as she removed the chakin from her obi to ritually wipe the tea bowl and scoop, while the water boiled in the ancient iron pot atop the hearth. The task performed, she placed the small, rectangular linen cloth to the side, palms folded as she attempted once more to retrieve the calm required to execute the ritual perfectly.

 

As host it was her place to instill reverence in all aspects of the service, chiefly amongst them, tranquility.

 

None of which she was feeling at the moment.

 

In fact, the urge to take the ancient cast iron pot's liquid contents and liberally drench the insufferable male was growing by leaps and bounds.

 

“Harmony,” she murmured to herself between gritted teeth, retrieving the ladle.

 

“I'm not sensing any, Higurashi. You do your grandfather a grave disservice.”

 

That's one, Kagome thought, taking a deep breath, doing her level best to instill harmony in her demeanor with very little in the way of success.

 

Yes, he is definitely a pompous, egotistical, overbearing ass; but exquisite to the eye and it would not do to give a client third degree burns. Kagome took the opportunity of glaring at the male with his back to her malevolently. He really had the most gorgeous hair and such an unusual color, too.

 

“You would perform the tea meeting more effectively if you spent less time admiring my form, woman, when you think this Sesshoumaru unaware.”

 

That's two, the dark-haired woman reflected with embarrassment as the ladle clattered into the hearth. She cursed under her breath in its retrieval, her cheeks burning with humiliation at having been caught.

 

“So much for grace,” Sesshoumaru murmured with just a hint of boredom to his deep register, turning and gracefully edging forward to his rightful tatami as guest.

 

She remained silent watching his progress.

 

The manner in which she held the ladle looked moderately threatening as she stared into his eyes boldly; the very height of rudeness, thought the patrician male, before he lowered his gaze. Her eyes were very disconcerting.

 

He would be loath to admit it but he found her fighting spirit somewhat thrilling. It aroused the predator that lurked just below his civilized exterior. She had clearly spent far too much time in the West. The silver-haired male could tell by the set of her little jaw Kagome wanted to retaliate verbally, but decorum had won out thus far.

 

She took her frustrations out on the bamboo ladle as she carefully and meticulously cleansed it once more. It was not lost on Sesshoumaru's delicate hearing that she was grinding her teeth, soft lips forming a very thin line of suppressed rage at his audacity.

 

“The point of the ceremony is to get the guest to relax and enjoy the quiet of his or her surrounding, Mister Taishou. I do apologize if I have caused offence. This is my first ceremony for an outsider. Clearly it is not to your liking. Consider it my humble gift and requires no remuneration as it will be your last with this teahouse.”

 

Looking at her through his lashes with a malicious glint, Sesshoumaru flicked one silken sleeve of his haori in mild irritation at her presumptive tone and veiled dismissal. There was no doubt in his mind, he was being handed his walking papers as patron in the most gracious manner possible.

 

“You overstep again, Higurashi. I have yet to inform you that your services are no longer required and when this Sesshoumaru decides, in due course, you will be informed forthwith. This Sesshoumaru was merely making observations to better enable you to perfect your duties in future.”

 

Interminable silence…at the rate she was going nothing would remain of the ladle's handle, he mused with hidden amusement.

 

A muffled squeak came from the female's throat as her lower jaw tightened further, the exposed flesh to the right of her throat now a hot pink as the muscles in her neck worked furiously. Sesshoumaru bit his lower lip, suppressing the chuckle his throat wanted to utter. She was so easy to rile; very easy prey.

 

“Case in point,” Sesshoumaru said lazily, pointing his index finger at the ladle. “The handle can not withstand the pressure you are applying.”

 

Kagome realized in that moment she had two choices.

 

Either lunge for the tall, smug bastard fond of speaking of himself in the third person and remove his voice box decidedly painfully, or continue with as much dignity as she could muster for posterity's sake, for Grandfather's sake.

 

She would not lose face.

 

Sighing in exasperation, she settled on the latter course, however appealing the former.

 

“Speak woman. Thus far you have proved rather boring. A complete disservice to your Grandfather's memory,” he added.

 

Perfectly white teeth gritted between moist, petal soft lips.

 

“That's three…” she whispered in a soft threatening tone. He had finally exceeded his bounds.

 

A rare thing happened then. Sesshoumaru held regret in his choice of spoken words. He had meant to irk, nothing more.

 

Sesshoumaru licked his own lips in predatory fascination as he watched the female's head slowly rise. Her gaze was intent and frozen, as she carefully raised the ladle then lowered it to its holder and began to scoop the macha carefully into the bowl, performing the task gracefully and without effort.

 

Unquestionably, Sesshoumaru thought, she was about to crack. Why he needed her to do so remained a mystery. He was, however, elated at the prospect.

 

Now that she had a focal point, her blinding rage, she had gone on automatic and all the years of training came to the fore.

 

Reverently she reached for the ladle, placing the ascribed amount of near boiling water into the bowl and grasped the chasen delicately and began to whisk the fragrant powder to frothy perfection.

 

He watched her hands thoroughly mesmerized by each subtle movement of her wrist, long, tapered digits lovingly holding the chasen, which had become an extension of her hand. The quiet dignity and centuries old execution in the art made manifest for the perfect cup of the Kami's brew. So entranced was he in the subtlety and near sensuality of her gestures, Sesshoumaru barely heard her retort as his heart leapt in his chest.

 

“You are determined to ruin what is to be a simple, pleasurable ceremony for guest and host alike, Mister Taishou. Why are you here if you find my company so disagreeable? I have given you several opportunities today to avoid this unwanted encounter. When it no longer could be avoided, I made every effort to fulfill your needs despite my own well-founded misgivings and your inordinate rudeness.”

 

The Aristocratic ice cube across from her merely quirked a brow. His eyes took in the detailed pattern of her kimono with reserved admiration. The demur curves of her body, well hidden by the furisode, further enhanced her allure and the tearoom's appointment.

 

“You wear it well, Miss Higurashi. It is an antique, yes? Designed to imitate the print?” he added conversationally.

 

Ignoring his attempt at a compliment in the way of an apology, Kagome organized the tea bowls for service. “It is with great respect, Mister Taishou, I ask that you never speak of my grandfather in so dismissive a manner again. He meant nothing to you, but he was my entire life,” she added quietly.

 

Sesshoumaru, unaccustomed to rebuke, stiffened visibly. He had paid her a supreme compliment. He rarely, if ever, did that and yet she would continue with her little peeve? Ningen!

 

She never noticed his large, graceful hands curling into fists on either side of his thighs, effectively hiding his claws, which had begun to extend instinctively. He wanted to rend from stem to stern the offensive being's comment with respect to his youkai.

 

His deep, mesmerizing baritone spoke. “Higurashi, never mind the tea. This Sesshoumaru wishes to have his box now.”

 

Kagome sighed in relief that this farce would not continue, then thought better of it and gave a sly smile as she looked into cold citrine. His pupils had contracted. He looked just this side of dangerous as he meet her steady gaze without flinching.

 

“No. I prepared it. You. Will. Drink. It… and only then, will you get your pressie, Mister Taishou,” she said quietly, barely suppressing her own chuckle at the horrified look in his eyes. If he insisted on acting like a child, she would treat him as such.

 

Ignoring him, she turned the bowl three times, as tradition demanded, then carefully placed it in front of him. She lowered her gaze to her lap and waited for the tsunami that would surely follow.

 

None came. He shuffled forward on the tatami and retrieved the bowl swiftly, almost spilling it.

 

“So much for grace…” she mimicked softly, just sufficiently loud for him to hear.

 

Kagome flinched as a low warning growl came at her from somewhere within the tearoom. It took a moment for her to realize it came from the male sitting opposite her. She refused to look in his eyes, even though at that moment, the petite woman would have given anything to see his expression, suddenly recognizing Oshi's trepidation in this man's presence.

 

It seemed an eternity before he moved, shuffling forward gracefully to return the bowl to its former position.

 

This she had not anticipated. In truth, she had expected to be `wearing' the green tea for her effrontery. The proprietress had broken every rule and Kagome knew she should feel shame…but didn't. He had asked for it. Mister Taishou had not spent sufficient time in the West to lord it over her in this way. He was, as her brother would say, `Old School.'

 

He returned the bowl to its original position and glowered. “Higurashi, the leaves were too young and hence overly sweet.”

 

Eying him carefully, she removed the elongated, white box from her obi, ignoring his acerbic comment, which she had anticipated. It was inevitable he would try to get his own back; she being nothing more than an onna in his eyes and well below his station.

 

Lowering her eyes, she bowed deeply extending her hands over the hearth, palms up. Whether for his benefit or her own, Kagome carefully adjusted her hands' positioning so they could avoid touching.

 

The box was perched precariously on the flat of her palms, Sesshoumaru observed, and his upper lip quirked mischievously. He was having none of it. Her insistence on this self-imposed decorum would be broken. How dare she act the part of a lady in an attempt to make him feel small? In truth, Sesshoumaru wanted to see that fiery spark again. It was fascinating; something to conquer in an age devoid of challenge.

 

“My given name is Kagome, for future reference, Mister Taishou. You will find I respond to it readily and rather pleasantly.”

 

He quirked a silver brow at her in lieu of an answer.

 

Kagome chuckled. “Those brows of yours speak volumes, Mister Taishou. Where do you have them done?”

 

“You will find, Ka-go-me, I do not respond well to commands from any quarter. I do and say as I see fit, woman. Get use to it. Your grandfather did,” was his casual indifferent reply, as he extended a large hand and caressed the tips of her fingers while retrieving the pristine white box.

 

“Ahhh, Mister Taishou, therein lay your error. I am not my grandfather.”

 

Moving like a lightning strike, Sesshoumaru retrieved the box.

 

His hands were hot and callused! Kagome blinked in shock. Her eyes flew to his in reproach as she retracted her palm as though burnt; her cheeks glowed cherry red with mortification at the intimacy of his touch. She knew now he was intentionally goading her, but why?

 

“It had not escaped my notice, Ka-go-me.”

 

With infinite delicacy, he examined the box while she put away the tea items, occasionally glancing at the petite, and now that he gave it proper thought, exquisitely refined little woman in front of him.

 

Sesshoumaru smirked secretively, having devised a new strategy.

 

It was probably innocent, she thought; not worth thinking about and yet she continued to blush, each time she recalled so simple a touch. With luck he would assume it was due to her being so close to the hearth and nothing more while she ritually cleaned and put away all items in the tea caddy, avoiding his eyes.

 

“Hnnnn?” asked the rich baritone across from her in question.

 

The dark-haired woman looked up, prepared to be aggravated once more until she saw the genuine perplexed expression on the Tai-Pan's face. He certainly was handsome in any light and at that moment he looked very much like a bemused child with a new toy.

 

In fact, he did have a new toy. A Take-tombo; two to be exact, each brightly colored.

 

Kagome graciously hid a smile behind her hands in relief, before answering the unasked question.

 

“They are bamboo dragonflies, Mister Taishou. Have you never played with them as a child? One assumes you were a child once?” she added mischievously, her facial expression softening.

 

Sesshoumaru looked at that moment like a dead halibut as he glared at the female across the hearth, extending one of the offending items to her by its `stem'.

 

“And what exactly is this Sesshoumaru to do with these brightly colored pieces of nonsense, woman?”

 

Kagome's genuinely pleasant smile shifted, her eyes holding just a modicum of menace now as she mumbled under her breath, retrieving the Take-tombo reverently. He need not know she recognized them.

 

“You don't really want me to answer that Taishou Sesshoumaru…really you don't.”

 

Author's Note

 

I hope you enjoyed. The games are about to begin. The next chapter we meet Sesshoumaru's clan and Kagome's friends…one by one…

 

Shortly, the finale of TSNNAM…and its epilogue SM:AVC.

 

EP