InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Art of Tea - ON HOLD ❯ The Art of Tea - Chapter 7 - Oolong Tea ( Chapter 7 )

 

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 Seven is dedicated to YOU…you know who you are and that is all that matters. Life is the Art of Tea…(wink) as we both well know. Thank you for being, dear one…you've mastered the art of authority without domination.

 

Namaste

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

 

 

Steam rises from a cup of tea

and we are wrapped in history,

inhaling ancient times and lands,

comfort of ages in our hands.

 

---Faith Greenbowl---

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

Chapter 7 - Oolong Tea

 

No wonder he despised pancakes, Sesshoumaru thought, wiping a clawed finger across his forehead in disgust, as he looked in the mirror. The make-up had stayed put on his forehead.

 

He had yet to learn how to mask the crescent. Damn fool old man had died before they had reached that final bit of the spell. For a fraction of a second he thought she had seen through the illusion to his true appearance.

 

He would have to speak with Oshi before leaving today. Had he given her the diary? Sesshoumaru wondered, adjusting the collar of the white cotton shirt with displeasure. There was a gap. He would have to open the top three buttons, to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders; ningen and their inferior build!

 

Sesshoumaru sniffed the air and snarled, the rest of the illusion dissipating as his jagged jaw marks shun through. Control! How he despised having to live through this era when his kind was hunted for sport by a select few, one of which was downstairs. The tables had turned. Hanyou filth!

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

 

Obsidian eyes looked towards the glass with a thin knowing smile. He was being watched. Someone more powerful was here as well, but whom? The entity was male and a youkai but of what caliber? He hid himself well, too well.

 

“Oolong, five pounds of your best, my man,” Naraku requested with a wink and lazy smile as he looked about him disinterestedly. He was still wearing his shoes, daring the elderly man to make the request so obviously on the tip of his tongue for their removal.

 

Oshi had not taken his eyes off his feet since his arrival.

 

It was times like this the older man resented his position and wished for a stronger male presence. The icy stare from the tall, lean male held a challenge reminiscent of Mister Taishou, but with a decided edge that held his life in the balance. He had no honor and that was the difference. Something about his manner bespoke danger. Oshi had the feeling he was not here for the tea.

 

“Is the owner about?” was the silky, sibilant question, veiled in a casual smile.

 

The elderly man adjusted the sleeves of his haori, stalling for time as he opened the container and busied himself with measuring the loose, fragrant tea with a vacant smile of stupidity. His tone is far too flippant, Oshi thought.

 

He would have to answer soon, or there might be repercussions. The two goons at the door stepped further into the store, hands firmly planted in their pockets, dark glasses not hiding the imminent threat to his person.

 

“Well? Are you hard of hearing old man? Is she about?!”

 

He knew Miss Higurashi was here. Why did he want to see her?

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

Sango's eyes narrowed. What did he want?

 

“Look, I have to go out there. I don't need Kagome to face this. Go back to making bubble tea with the other girls. You seem good at taking orders,” Sango said icily, just as a firm hand took her arm.

 

Turning toward Miroku, she gritted her teeth. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

 

“No, we go together and we are going to be friendly with Naraku. We don't want to arouse his suspicions further. Got it?” Miroku said smoothly, loosening his grip a fraction. She was far too willful. He would have to domesticate her, he thought fleetingly, never stopping to wonder why this had entered his mind.

 

“Who the…”

 

Silence overtook the belligerent coach, not of her own choosing mind. At the moment firm and decidedly soft, peppermint flavored lips had covered her own as she was pressed firmly against the wall. Her fists coiled to strike…then thought better of the action. TRAITORS!

 

Her damn knees were not at the moment holding up their end of the deal either as the tip of a tongue lathed her lips, demanding entrance. That made no difference whatsoever since the hard, very male body in question, adhered to her every nook and cranny like a sticking plaster; a very fine, smelling sticking plaster who tasted a smidge of tapioca. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the mind that was being suctioned through her lips she realized, he knew Naraku.

 

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

The ledger was bound in black leather with a gilded crescent design hovering over the embossed passage from the TaoDeJing.

 

“Know the masculine and keep to the feminine...know the white and keep to the black...know the glorious and keep to the lowly…” - Lao Tzu

 

How had the ledger gotten here? It wasn't actually a ledger, if she thought about it, more like a diary; Grandfather's diary. The one he had kept locked in that ancient Tansu.

 

Her fingers passed over the parchment of the first page with a sad smile, reading his chicken scratch. English was never his strength, but he insisted as this was the language spoken by those in their adopted home.

 

She read the lines written boldly.

 

And by doing this, you will conquer the Unconquered One….for his own sake, and just possibly yours and those to come...

 

Oh and before I forget. Do not allow him to break the take-tombo. He is easily frustrated as you will find. Strive to be patient with him. Full of pride that one, something you should know well.

 

In future, pick up this book and simply open it. What you need will be there…make me proud. Oshi's memory is going. Remind him to give you the key to the Tansu.

 

Lastly, never, ever give him chocolate. It is poisonous to his system. Please remember this.

 

Love

 

JiJi

Of its own volition, the bound volume snapped shut and fell to the floor at her feet.

Kagome eeped and leapt back into a hard, warm surface; a freshly showered, familiar hard, warm surface whose heart was beating rapidly. Why?

She turned, ready with invectives, but his expression stopped her. She could tell he had thought her in danger. Kagome blinked. No, there was no excuse. This was her bedroom after all. He had no right, even if his reasoning was well-meaning.

“You screamed,” he said with a bland, well-scrubbed expression. Silver tendrils flowed over the white shirt as he bent and attempted to retrieve the diary, finding nothing dangerous in her midst.

“Leave that alone, please and leave,” Kagome requested evenly and to her mind, respectfully. He hadn't actually done anything wrong, other than set her heart racing again.

The sound of material tearing and a sliver of glowing, taut, buttock of the pale, male variety smiled up at her from her current vantage.

Kagome's eyes were glued to one peg before she stifled a snort. Yes, this was a fine Saturday.

Neither noticed the book's surface glowed with equal incandescence; he in utter humiliation, and she in absolute paroxysms of joy at his loss of face, or more accurately, bottom.

Sesshoumaru's keen hearing did pick up the sound of familiar laughter though…however distant. It reverberated in his ears as an echo.

“Old Man,” he said between gritted teeth, unaware his fangs were exposed.

The female in question was flat on her back howling on the bed and pointing with laughter, her hands coiled around her stomach as she gasped for air and tried to look contrite.

“Wait…Oh Sesshoumaru, I'm s-s-s-orry. You can't go out there. I-I'll get you something…” she tried to say, unsuccessfully, as the door slammed with finality behind him.

Sesshoumaru strode book in tow, heading for the guest quarters downstairs. He would wear his hakama home. This day had already been too much …and what was that scent? Could it be hanyou? He would investigate, but first to relieve himself of the unnecessary ventilation.

…Oh the indignities of the 21st Century. What had he done to deserve this? All this, because of an antiquated practice that served no real purpose in the modern era? He was a fool, seeking what could no longer be found. He should simply accept his fate.

Looking down at the book he held, he watched in horror as it vanished before his eyes. He didn't have to hazard a guess where it was currently. She had stopped laughing and squealed.

That laughter…again, a quiet, male laughter that echoed down the stairs as he took them by twos.

It only hit him then; she had called him by his given name…Sesshoumaru.

---------------

 

Author's Note

 

Yes…I know…you are making voodoo dolls for me…but wait…it gets better…see you soon.

 

And yes, the butterfly did not die in vain…hang in there…trust me.

 

EP