InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Art of Tea - ON HOLD ❯ The Art of Tea - Chapter 4 - Tisane ( Chapter 4 )

 

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 Four is dedicated to ILovePrettySilverHair, who wrote the following delightfully, sensual romp “License to Drive.” It is deliciously wicked and a must read. Very tongue, planted, firmly in cheek.

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

Chapter Four - Tisane

 

“A woman is like a teabag - you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."

 

-- Eleanor Roosevelt.

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

“When does she arrive?” asked the deep baritone, which reverberated in the stillness of the darkened room.

 

It was sunset. He would always remember that. How apropos that he should be called to the bedside of this ancient shrine priest for a final goodbye as the sun sank slowly beyond the window. Its last echoes a thin red line gracing the rose-colored horizon.

 

Like ghosts, the voile curtains danced in the gentle, evening breeze, which carried with it the faint traces of incense from the garden shrine below.

 

“Kun Sho,” Sesshoumaru said aloud, recognizing the rising scent.

 

A weathered, dry hand reached for his strong one, grasping it firmly, pulling Sesshoumaru's attention back to small figure cosseted within white cotton sheets.

 

“In a few days,” came the husked reply, dark eyes bright and amused and yet distant, almost questioning.

 

Sesshoumaru squeezed gently in acknowledgement, his eyes averting to the feminine figure seated just beyond in shadow, head demurely bowed, pretending not to listen.

 

“Mrs. Lee, I would be grateful if you gave us a moment or two to finish some business?” asked Mister Higurashi, politely.

 

The elderly woman quickly stood and bowed, giving a decidedly suspicious glance at the tall male before heading for the door and closing it quietly behind her.

 

Sesshoumaru placed his fingers against his lips, quirking one brow, as he padded to the door and swung it open.

 

Mrs. Lee almost fell in, but for the firm grasp the tall, pale male took of her shoulder. Leaning forward, he whispered menacingly in her ear. “Go.”

 

Mister Higurashi was not privy to the word spoken, but he could well surmise as he began to chuckle, unadvisedly.

 

When the coughing fit stopped, due to liberal sips of cooling tisane, the minor adjustment of pillows behind the elderly male's curved back, and admonitions on the part of Sesshoumaru to be still, Mister Higurashi asserted himself and spoke.

 

“Sit, boy.”

 

The look on the silver-haired male's face almost started another coughing jaunt, but the businessman sat nonetheless as requested, however diffidently, on the chair the Lee woman had previously occupied.

 

“Your age and fragility remains your saving grace, Priest. This Sesshoumaru…”

 

The old man waved a hand about weakly with marked indifference to the speech he had, apparently, heard many times before.

 

“Yes, yes, yes. We haven't time for that, Lord Sesshoumaru. Come closer. I cannot see you all the way over there in the dark. Humor an old man, pup...come,” was the thin rasp.

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

Mrs. Lee padded down the long hallway silently, looking nervously back.

 

Should she call Miss Higurashi? Her grandfather did not look to last the night. It would mean disobeying the elderly man's order not to call his grandchildren, most especially Miss Higurashi, whose items had arrived the day before. She was to follow in a matter of days after arranging her sabbatical from the University. Her grandfather spoke with pride of her accomplishments as the first Higurashi to not only attend an institution of higher learning, but to become the youngest in her discipline to go for her Masters.

 

Perhaps she should wait, Mrs. Lee told herself, putting away the cell-phone for safekeeping in her pants pocket. For now, she would remain in the house until the young woman arrived, as previously arranged.

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

“There is no point glowering down at me. My eyesight is failing and it is wasted. Sit.”

 

“What is it, old man?” Sesshoumaru feigned boredom, not missing the grimace or the halting speech pattern that had not been there days before at their last tea. He adjusted the sheets meticulously, placing both of the old man's arms under the covers, smoothing an area to perch, back ramrod straight.

 

Tired eyes looked at the Taiyoukai knowingly, a thin smile curving his lips and like the mischievous man he was, Mister Higurashi began to hum, gazing out the window with a far off wistful look.

 

“Higurashi, I don't have all night to listen to your atonal attempts at melody.”

 

Violet hues deepening to indigo was all that remained of the day beyond that window; the window that in the last few days had become his only vantage on the outside world. He chuckled sadly, resignedly as the tall, elegant figure continued to glower down at him, waiting.

 

Mister Higurashi knew better…there was no true malice in that gaze.

 

“You are a hard being to love, Lord Sesshoumaru, but worth the effort.”

 

“Hnnn,” was the quiet response.

 

Both sets of eyes turning to the window once more as the moon made its silvery presence felt in the blue black of the now, night sky.

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

Shafts of moonlight crept stealthily across the plush, carpeting, eventually coming to rest over the aquiline being seated.

 

He blinked, amber eyes taking on the moon's eerie luminescence, unaware of the otherworldly glow it cast over his features.

 

How long had he sat there in memory of that night over three months before? He had remained with the elderly human until fitful sleep claimed him and the dawn's light came through that small window.

 

Across the room, he discerned the thin T-shaped object at rest on the carpet.

 

Sesshoumaru had final gotten the hang of it. The long bamboo stem rolling against his palm and the quick release as the fragile toy spun away from him, up, up, up to the ceiling then arched towards the door. His upper lip quirked a fraction; he had taught himself that particular technique. Not the Higurashi woman, he thought with pride.

 

She had enjoyed his first two failed attempts too readily for his liking. He had almost snapped it in two, but for the fear he saw in her eyes and the sadness. Her manner had abruptly changed, as though reading his thought of action, as she carefully demonstrated without looking at him once more.

 

“I did it, old man. Nothing to it,” he murmured dismissively to the silence of his den, easing himself up to retrieve the small toy. Tomorrow, he would teach Rin. It would be Saturday, the only day spent with the child. It was his duty; a promise to be kept.

 

The rapid, assured stride beyond the closed door, heralding the entrance of Miroku, his legal counsel and general conscience, or so the man thought; conscience that is.

 

“Why is it so dark in here? I swear you are a vampire, Sesshoumaru. It would explain the pallid coloring and your ridiculous, almost non-existent appetite,” the tall, dark-haired male said, switching on the light.

 

“There, much better.”

 

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Miroku slouched against the wall, looking fit and handsome in his dark slacks and mauve silk shirt; a color most men would not attempt.

 

“Then you risk life and limb invading my home under cover of darkness, Miroku. What is it?” Sesshoumaru asked, intentionally continuing to gaze at the moon, secreting away the toy. When would the blasted man learn to knock before barging in with that inane affability of his, which masked a razor-sharp intellect and a minor predilection for `tree hugging?'

 

“What ya got there, Mister Taishou?” Miroku asked, blinking rapidly, his lips quivering as he attempted to suppress his laughter.

 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a take-tombo?”

 

“Get out!” Sesshoumaru hissed, the toy hitting the closed door, and falling to the carpeting once more. He could still hear the snickering echoing down the hallway.

 

Humans, they will be the death of me, he thought ruefully.

 

It was time for bed.

 

Another endless day had begun without his permission…

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

“You little demon! Come back here this instant and clean this up!” Kagome bellowed half-heartedly down the quiet alleyway, raising the soapy sponge in threat at the retreating figure of a short, redheaded boy.

 

She had not been surprised to see the bucket placed at the foot of the stairs in anticipation.

 

It almost made the dark-haired woman smile, as she rolled up her denim sleeves. Mrs. Lee, doubtlessly, had placed it there from the night before, prepared for the usual Saturday morning battle with the neighborhood's resident Picasso.

 

Some things never changed, Kagome chuckled.

 

Perhaps this Saturday morning would be different.

 

It… wasn't.

 

“Every freakin Saturday, like clockwork,” Kagome groused tiredly as she slapped the sponge against the glass pane of the store's entrance way. She had other things to do but felt guilty asking Oshi to do so menial a task, especially since his back was playing up.

 

Shippou was the boy's name. A bad lot in the making, Mrs. Lee had asserted repeatedly with a scowl. Then again, everyone not raised in the strictest traditions were a bad lot, perhaps even Kagome herself with all this education. What good would it do her in the end if she could not find a husband? The dark-haired woman had overheard her saying one-day to Oshi.

 

Kagome had seen the look of pity in Mrs. Lee's dark eyes as she patted her hand with sympathy, before the usual query as to the state of her love life. Then, of course, came the mention of that nice boy up the street named Houjo, who had his own sushi bar and was doing rather well.

 

“Nice boy, respectable boy and Japanese, too,” she always added, as if that would seal the deal.

 

Dunking the paint-soaked sponge in the warm water a final time, Kagome sighed, admiring her handy work.

 

There were still streaks, of course. She needed to get some old newsprint. Her grandfather swore by it and it did produce a dazzling shine worthy of Windex.

 

“Oh Kami, what have I let myself in for?” she murmured, shaking her head, the sound of a motorcycle's irritable engine becoming more prevalent with each passing moment.

 

She missed the quiet of the university's quadrangle of a Saturday morning.

 

Kagome picked up the bucket. Sango would be by soon to take her to brunch.

 

Breaks screeching at the intersection and a few seconds later the sound of a loud bang, as something connected with the hood of a car, and the immediate slamming of a car door with force caused Kagome to look up the alley to the main street. She could see nothing. Someone might need help. Instinctively she reached for her cell in her back pocket, taking off at a run, uncaring about the bucket's contents sloshing over her jeans as she took off at a trot.

 

A familiar female voice, screaming at the top of her lungs, was giving the driver of a sleek, silver-gray Jaguar, a piece of her mind.

 

“Oh shit, it's Sango!”

 

The male in question looked livid and about to pounce on the screaming female.

 

Kagome came to an abrupt halt… unfortunately her momentum carried the bucket forward and its vibrant, liquid contents found a new home as it lovingly clung to broad chest and pristine white linen.

 

And so, Saturday had begun…

 

Author's Note

 

Can you say apoplexia? ….What? You didn't think I would find a way for him to take that shirt off (wink)? Oh ye of little faith...Perish the thought (wicked grin) LMAO!

 

Oh and you guys have been awesome! Just astounding! Really enjoy your comments relating to the story as it unfolds. See you soon. I promise one more chapter by the weekend of TAoT, then it disappears for a week or two…with a nice long chapter. Gotta pay attention to TSNNAM. It is pouting.

 

Check out the beautiful artwork done by Sugar0o…just stunning…she has captured the actual mood of the piece thus far. Thank you, sweetheart.

 

***http://sugar0o.deviantart.com/art/Tomorrow-85532408***< /div>