InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Long Road ❯ The Dog and His Wife ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and its characters are not mine. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Biz. I receive no compensation for fan fiction.

 

A/N: These stories are exercises in theme, style and structure. Please do not flame based on pairings. If you are going to roast me, I ask that you do it in a constructive manner.

 

Genre: Horror, Fairy Tale

Characters: Sesshomaru, Rin

Warning: Character Death

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2991

Summary: An adapted retelling of a classic Japanese folktale.

 

 The Dog and His Wife

 

Once there was a young man from the Capitol named Yota who decided to go for a walk. It was a cool day in early autumn, and the sun painted a picturesque landscape before his wandering feet. All around him were yellows and reds and auburns and pale greens of foliage, while the mountains before him rose like old gods from a swirl of yellow mist. Yota, prone to bouts of poetic verse, determined that no painting, no haiku, could capture the natural beauty of the landscape. He walked, idly and without hurry, whistling an old, common tune that whispered in his ear early that morning. The dust danced mischievously around his geta.

 

In the late afternoon, after many twist and turns on well worn and less worn mountain trails, Yota realized that he was helplessly lost. This was an unfortunate turn of events, because Yota severely lacked any sense of courage or bravado, his talents mainly concerned with the newest round of gossip in the court or the most fashionable witticisms and verse to bring up in a social gathering so that one might appear learned and therefore be Desirable Company. At no point in time had he ever wished to engage in the pursuits of the Brave, because, he aptly determined, the Brave tended to do things that could very well end up in the Brave becoming the Dead. Yota had always felt that death would come soon enough, and possessed no desire to hurry towards it.

 

Meanwhile, the fast approaching evening had brought a chill to the air, and Yota could taste rain on the breeze. He hurried to backtrack his current path, which had brought him deeper into the mountain mists, and became more and more perilous as he continued on it. However, as he scrambled to find the last junction, he found himself walking further back then he remembered. He stumbled through the gathering darkness to a fork in the road that he did not recall. He recalled turning right onto this trail from a strait path, and now there was a decisive V in front of him. A post and sign marked the junction, but he could barely recognize the faded characters.

 

Yota studied each path carefully. To his right the path was clear of brush, the trees opening and inviting, the road wide and well traveled. To his left the undergrowth was thick with thorns and the trees grew into the road, scratching at the dirt with bony fingers. The choice seemed plain, until Yota recalled a tale form his tender years where the clearer path led to certain danger, while the lesser path eventually became clearer, and those who took it had emerged from its ruggedness unscathed. So, trusting the lesson learned from that particular story, though forgetting that this tale was told to impart a moral lesson, and not to serve as a guide to court secretaries lost in the wilds, Yota summoned what little courage resided in his person and trudged into the dark foliage.

 

As he pressed onward, night advanced with an unsettling swiftness. The sky turned a cold, dark blue, the haze became thicker, obscuring his view beyond an arm's reach, and the brush and brambles grew more tenacious against his bare calves. Yota felt a chilly dread nestle in the core of his being. Questioning the logic of his choice, he was about to turn back when a faint, yellow glow pierced the fog.

 

Exulting his good luck, for a light in this dark place could only mean human habitation; Yota stepped off his dubious trail and walked in the direction of the glow. It grew warmer and more inviting as he drew closer. Soon the forest opened into a secluded clearing. In its center, a modest house stood quietly, humbly amidst the acres of untamed mountain wilderness. A small garden, plowed and empty except for a small winter crop of leafy green plants in its center, separated him from the rear of the home. The grounds were well kept, the rough grass trimmed short. The house was equally tidy. Its screens seemed carefully maintained. The porch was waxed to a high luster, reflecting the glow from a small window.

 

He walked around to the front, deciding it would be very rude indeed to come knocking on someone's back door, especially when he would be requesting lodging. Never mind that they may think him a bandit and slay him where he stood (though no self respecting bandit would knock on the door of a house they intended to rob). The face of the home possessed the same simple, well cared for elegance that he witnessed in the back. He noted two stone Inugami guarding the front door. They were exquisitely carved of dark green jade, with curving, toothy jaws and a feral expression, and were the only extravagance the residence seemed to possess. In a nibbling part of his brain, Yota wondered who would inhabit such a place.

 

It may have been a trick of his overexerted mind, but Yota was quite sure that the Inugami's graven gaze followed him as his geta clop-clopped up the front steps.

 

He knocked three times on the front door, each rap becoming louder with unease. Inside he heard a great deal of scuffling and scuffing, swishing and squawking, then the gentle padding of light footsteps approached. An older woman opened the door. Though her face seemed youthful (though not young), her hair was white with age. Her impossibly black eyes were set in a gentle face with soft lines around her eyes and mouth; a visage that spoke of a long life lived in comfortable harmony with everything around her. The sight of her eased his nerves. However, after taking in his disheveled appearance, her thin lips drew into a frown and she drew back into her dwelling.

 

“Please ma'am,” he hurried to explain, “don't shut the door on me! I have been walking all day, and I seem to have gotten myself lost. I just need a place to stay for the night.”

 

The woman seemed to ponder his words a moment. Her grip on the door tightened, and, for a few uneasy seconds, Yota was sure that she would shut it on his face.

 

“I was lost once,” she whispered absently. Her eyes became distant and drifted to look at the empty space over his shoulder.

 

“You may stay the night,” she said, her eyes meeting his, “but you must tell no one you were here.” She drew back through the threshold to allow him to enter. Just as he stepped through the door, her arm shot forward to grip his bicep, “be wary,” she added sternly, “my husband does not care for most humans.”

 

Yota nodded numbly, but he did not particularly like how she said `humans' as if her husband were something decidedly Not Human.

 

She escorted him to a warm, open room, sparsely furnished with tatami mats and a low table. A small cooking fire crackled in the center of the room; the pot set on it bubbled ferociously. The breezed in from behind him, humming softly as she prepared the table and observed her stew. All the while she moved with a smooth grace that belied her apparent age. Yota sat quietly on one of her mats, noting her elegance and finely crafted, if sparsely decorated, kimono and pondered if she were some manner of royalty. Though, that made little sense, since she didn't seem to observe any of the strict codes of conduct known to nobles and possessed no servants to assist her.

 

Allowing his curiosity to overcome him, Yota was the first to break the silence, “May I ask your name ma'am?”

 

“Hrm? Oh,” she said in a soft, melodic voice, “My name is Rin.”

 

“Rin-san,” Yota mused, “how did you come to live in this place? It seems as if you are cut off from all civilization out here in the mountains.”

 

Rin raised a delicate eyebrow at him and smiled, “I choose to live this way, and I find very little civility in civilization. Besides,” she continued, ”this land belongs to my Lord Husband.”

 

“Forgive me good lady,” Yota interjected, “but, to my knowledge, this land belongs to the Emperor.”

 

With a widening smile, she tipped her head in his direction. “If you say so, young man,” she amended. Though, to Yota, she seemed to be humoring him.

 

Suddenly, a great baying broke the through the night, echoing over the mountain, creeping into every burrow, winding through the labyrinth of trees. Yota turned, fearful, towards the door with as the baying continued to growing louder. Yota felt his insides twist into a horrible knot as he realized that it was coming closer to the house. It grew so loud that the beams rattled, raining a fine layer of dust over his head and his chest shook with the vibrations. He clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to lessen the cacophony in his head. Rin, unmoved by the terrible sound, rose from stirring her stew, walked calmly to the front door and slid it open. Yota gazed down the short hallway and through the threshold.

 

Outside, illuminated by Rin's lantern, were the last two clawed toes of a giant, white paw. Unable to speak, scream or even wet his fudoshi, Yota shuddered with a terror he had never known in his life. A large maw, like that of a dog, bowed low, a hair's breadth from his hostess. Rin said something to the creature that Yota didn't hear, and it replied with a low growl that rattled his skull. She continued speaking to the maw, and when she had finished there was a long, punctuated silence. A flash of light momentarily blinded Yota, and he rubbed his eyes to clear the spots from his vision. When he looked again, a man that was not a man stood in the doorway. The man was uncommonly tall and dressed completely in white, save his dark armor and bright yellow sash. A great mass of fur sat on his shoulder, winding around his right arm and trailing behind him like a train. His fair hair, luminescent and ridiculously long, was not bound, though he carried the swords of a samurai. Under an unruly fringe of bangs, Yota was startled to see that the man bore a dark blue crescent on his forehead, a complement to the double stripe on each cheek.

 

Rin flanked him as he walked down the hallway. His boots made a heavy, authoritative clank-clank against the shining wood. Unable to do anything except stare, Yota was relieved when the man passed and ignored him entirely upon entering the main room. As the man hung his large fur stole on an ornate hook in the far corner, Yota came to a startling realization. This man that was not a man was, in fact, the Great Dog that stood outside the door just moments prior. With similar awe, Yota also realized that this was Rin's “Lord Husband.” For a moment, he felt slightly faint.

 

Rin had stopped before with a sympathetic expression. She turned a gentle smile on him, and Yota briefly forgot his fear.

 

“Are you ready to eat?” she asked him. Yota nodded dumbly in response, his eyes still round.

 

Rin moved with that strange, quiet grace and laid out three settings on the black, lacquer table. Then, she disappeared into a long hallway. The Great Dog moved to take a seat at the unset head of the table, his eyes unfocused and trained forward. Yota stood and approached warily, sitting at the corner furthest away from him.

 

“I am humbled to be allowed a place at your table, Good Lord,” Yota said with a respectful bow, and he hoped his voice did not waver too much.

 

The Great Dog's golden gaze sharpened and settled on the young man. Yota nearly shriveled like a sun-baked vine from its distain.

 

“Speak to me again,” the Dog said in a deep, rumbling monotone, “and I will cut out your tongue.”

 

Yota swallowed audibly and, wisely, remained silent.

 

Rin emerged from the hallway followed by a small, strange creature. If he doubted before that this house was inhabited by yokai, there was no doubt now.

 

The small creature was a grey green, with bulbous liquid yellow eyes. He was wrinkled like a pile of discarded silk and a small, black hat covered his bald head. The creature covered a long yawn from his beak with small, clawed hands. The Green Man stopped short when he saw Yota sitting quietly at the table, and cast a furtive glimpse towards the Dog.

 

“This is Yota,” Rin explained as she gestured towards the young man, “he was lost in the forest and will only be staying the night. I invited him in, Master Jaken.” Jaken squawked quietly, a sound Yota recalled from when he knocked earlier, and took a seat next to their guest. Rin sat at her husband's right.

 

Supper was a silent affair, and Yota might have enjoyed Rin's fine cooking very much if he were not so terrified, situated as he was at the table of a terrible monster Dog with a green imp slurping loudly at his right. Yota noticed that the Great Dog didn't eat, but remained at the table until Rin finished her meal and set about clearing the dishes. Jaken rose to help her, juggling their plates in a comical manner as he scurried through a door that led to another room. Rin set out some old furs for Yota to sleep on and, bidding him a good night, retired down the hallway. To Yota's great relief, the Dog rose and followed her without so much as a glance in his direction. The young man ran his tongue against his molars thoughtfully and settled into bed.

 

Yota woke the next morning to warm sunlight and gentle birdsong. Rin was awake and greeted him kindly, though the Great Dog and the Green Man, Jaken, were nowhere in sight. After serving him a small breakfast of leftover stew, she saw him to the door.

 

Stopping briefly, she reminded him, “You must tell no one about this place.”

 

Yota bowed deeply. “You have been most kind to shelter me for the night,” he said, “and I give you my word that I will tell no one.”

 

Rin nodded with a smile and bid him farewell.

 

Oddly enough, Yota had no trouble finding his way back to the main road that led to the Capitol. It was almost as if the mountain itself guided him on the correct path, and the young man soon found himself within the reassuring walls of human civilization.

 

Upon returning to court, Yota wasted no time telling everyone he could the strange tale of the terrible Great Dog and his kind human wife. All listened enthralled; nodding empathetically as Yota recalled the Dog's ominous words and described the strange little Green Man named Jaken.

 

Several brash men shouted angrily as his tale came to a close, saying, “This kind woman has surely been possessed by a wicked yamainu!”

 

“Indeed,” agreed others, “we should take up arms and save this poor woman!”

 

They did just that, brandishing swords and clubs and spears and arrows, anything that they could acquire. Fifty men followed Yota into the mountain trails as the young man recalled the paths that led him to the secluded house. They went on for most of the day, shouting and whooping and congratulating themselves on their bravery and upcoming victory. Soon the cool of night crept in and found the unruly group surrounded by darkness. Yota was sure they were close, and his suspicions were confirmed when he spotted the sign with strange characters at the fork in the road ahead.

 

“We're almost there,” he shouted to the group behind him. Never before had Yota felt so brave or courageous or important as the men patted him firmly on the back continuing to carry on as they followed him, their brave leader.

 

Then, the wind became violent, whipping mercilessly at their faces and the dark clouds above bowed into the earth. From the clouds arose the white Dog, his eyes a feral red in the ink of night. The ground shook as his giant paw slammed down in front of them. Yota gazed up in terror, awed by the sight of him, and realized that his true mass was easy to forget when viewed through a meager doorway. The brash men that followed Yota into the mountains raised their weapons with foolish bravado as the Great Dog howled their doom.

 

Yota turned towards the Capitol and ran as fast as his feet would carry him. Behind, he heard the shouts of triumph turn to screams of agony. As he ran, slick with sweat and fear, he could not erase from his mind the look in the Dog's eyes when he glared down on them all. Nor could he forget the recognition when the Dog laid eyes on him.

 

When dawn broke, the only one who made it back to the city was Yota.

 

Upon approaching his meager home, Yota was troubled to find a dark jade Inugami sitting next to his door. He foolishly passed it, entered his house and lay down to sleep.

 

The next day, he was found dead; his eyes wide with terror, his mouth open in a silent scream. The Inugami was nowhere to be found.

 

They say that it is foolish to wander aimlessly through the mountains in the western province. However, if you become lost in those wild places, and are taken in by a kind woman named Rin, it is wise to heed her warnings. The only thing that compares to her gentle compassion is the wrath of her husband, the Lord of the Dogs.