InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Tale of Sesshoumaru ❯ Concubine ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer: I do not own copyright to any of the Inuyasha characters. Wish I did. I make no profit off of my fan fiction. Wish I did.

 

Disclaimer #2: I do own the character of Akanesuji and Smart Ass. If you would like to use them, please contact me at skycladstrega@yahoo.com

 

 

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Akanesuji had insisted on leaving the grounds first, packing up her ox wagon with just a few items from her room, the majority getting left behind for the next winter together. She had finally told him about her reoccurring nightmares about watching him walk away from her a few days before she started packing. There was something desperate and weak in her eyes, but he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Akanesuji had not shown herself to be fragile all season, but in this, she was. “I will not go through that again,” she had cried, reminding him of being exiled. He had begun to feel bad for doing it to her, but he would not totally regret his choice. She was right when she had told him that exile had been the best thing for her ever. Her soul was tempered through adversity and made stronger.

 

Rin had ran tears all morning, but Akanesuji was quick to remind her that she would be promptly back when the snows came and that at any time, Sesshoumaru could easily find her past the mountain stretch where the demon wolf Koga lived. She explained that her little township was just outside the Western lands in the neutral buffer area between the west and the north and not too far from the ocean. Sesshoumaru had never traveled into that area before and was unfamiliar with the land descriptions she gave, but was confident he could find it should the need arise using his nose.

 

And it was going to arise. He would not have his pregnant wife living unprotected.

 

Watching her leave out the gate, Sesshoumaru found himself very unhappy.

 

Not just his normal, moody bitch, grumpy and cynical self, but lonely, depressed and somewhat worried. The buffer lands were notoriously chaotic with demon activity, a breeding ground to every evil thing with no master or lord to weed them out. Akanesuji was skilled in the arts of war, his morning sparring sessions with her leaving him confident she could handle any lesser demon than her self with ease...it was just the ones her own level or in groups that he worried about. The woman was good with her blades when she wanted to be, but more often than not liked hand-to-hand close combat where she could use her enemy's own strength and weight against them. That would simply not do against something five times bigger than herself.

 

Turning back to his rooms, he pulled out a plain wooden box that had been wrapped in a dark green rice paper from a lacquered trunk. Carefully opening the paper so that it could be reused again and bundling up the silk lace that had kept the parcel together, he set the top aside. Inside the box was a dark green uniform with black floral mons. It was the uniform of a shinobi. At the bottom of the box was an oni half mask carved of deep mahogany. It covered the users nose, mouth and chin. It had once been used inside a samurai helm, but now it was part of this special costume. He had killed the vile human who once wore it. It was beneath him to wear this clothing, but he saw no other choice. It was the only way to track her without making his presence known. He could not trust a spy or hired shinobi to do it.

 

As he trailed his finger along the cheek of the mask, touching the curved out teeth, he remembered how Akanesuji had first come to him wearing the uniform of a demon hunter, not much different than this. Hers had been more tailored, probably something she had sewn herself. She had disguised her hair, eyes and facial stripes, knowing that he would rely on his nose to identify her. He had been a fool for not looking at the angle of her nose or the curve of her cheeks. Truly he had learned a valuable lesson there. Don't judge a demon only by their smell.

 

He sat the mask on the top of the box and stared at it for some time.

 

Three days passed and Sesshoumaru left in the middle of the night. He walked the lonely roads quietly, keeping to the side. This traveling seemed lonelier than before. There was no Rin, no Jaken and no Wet Nose. Memories of their winter together would flood him to keep him company.

 

He thought about how far away she would be by now. She could not get too far by ox cart and horse, unless she had planned to dump the cart somewhere. He doubted she would do such a thing. It contained precious gifts for her people, in particular, clothes she had sewn over the winter for the smallest of the children. He had wondered at first if they were garments for their own child, but she was quick to tell him that the orphans of the area needed new things. Remembering her gorgeous embroidery, he had asked her about it too, once again assuming it was for her. It would have made a lovely wedding furisode for herself, but she simply stated that she did not need such a thing. It was for a friend's fiance.

 

Rin asked her for a furisode of her own, he remembered, and Akanesuji told her that she would make a very special one for her someday. She would only start it when the betrothal contract was settled between the boy's family and Lord Sesshoumaru. The little girl then started pestering her about what kind of husband would be arranged for her. In her childish manner, she demanded a magical demon with a cute fluffy tail. He had to like flowers and making kites, and riding ponies and sugared dried plums or honeyed cherries. In those moments, the thought of Rin growing up and taking a husband really settled in. Finding her a spouse would be really difficult. Most youkai would not have her, not because she was unlovable, for she certainly was. It was just that her body was so frail.

 

It also impressed the both of them deeply that Rin did not want a human mate, but expected nothing but a youkai of her own. When the day came, would she be disappointed in her own race after spending her life with demons? It indeed was a sad dilemma.

 

Privately, Akanesuji had also suggested to him another route. Rin could become a priestess and avoid marriage altogether, or choose to become a concubine or mistress. He protested that Rin would never stoop so low as to become a concubine, but Akanesuji said that being a beloved concubine was better than being an unloved second or third wife. Sesshoumaru had not thought of that before as that kind of situation would never befall him.

 

“Would you have been my concubine?” he had asked her on that last evening together.

 

“Now that I am your wife, that is an unnecessary question,” she said, never looking up from her embroidery. Pulling up her chin to look into his eyes, she could not dodge it a second time.

 

“Answer me please.”

 

“Yes my love,” she sighed. “I had already settled myself to being your winter concubine and nothing more.” How he loved her then, knowing she was not the trained courtier he had once thought her to be. He planted gentle kisses over her soft eyelids. “Why have you continued to love me all these many years?”

 

A wide smile struck across her face. “Because Fluffy, you promised me you would love me forever when we sat on the southern wall, watching the sun set. Do you remember that night?”

 

“Yes,” Sesshoumaru lowered his eyes from her. “We were so young then. I had just started training with the katana, and your mother had started you on the koto.”

 

“I snuck out to see you that day, and watched you from the battlements.”

 

“And after dinner, when everyone was celebrating with drink, we met on the wall. I held your hand.”

 

Akanesuji giggled. “Remember our first kiss?”

 

Sesshoumaru nodded. “I thought I would burst in my chest that night.”

 

“Me too. Did you know your father was watching us?”

 

“No.....how did you know?”

 

“He caught me sneaking back to my room and ratted me to mother.” Akanesuji laid the embroidery down to the side of her. “She beat me to an inch of my life and got me a permanent chaperon.”

 

“I'm sorry about all that. I guess it was all my fault.”

 

“Why did you send me to exile?”

 

It was the question he had been dreading her asking all this time. He put his hand under the sleeve of his kimono and rubbed his thumb against the nails of his fingers. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he quit the subtle fidgeting, telling himself mentally not to do it anymore. “After father died, I hated every decision he made. I was young, my love, and so angry. Every decision he had ever made was suspect to me. Even the decision to wed us together.”

 

“You know he did it because you chose me.” she started to cry a small tear down her cheek. No matter how much she told herself she was over it and how much she had healed, there still lay deep in her heart that betrayal. “It was your decision to call me out that night. It was your choice to kiss me. You could have picked any other girl that night to hold your hand on that wall...but you chose me.”

 

“I am sorry my love.” He pulled her tight to him until the smell of her hair overcame him, the odor of her salty tears filling his senses. “I am so incredibly sorry. I chose you, and he honored that choice and I dishonored him by sending you away.”

 

Sesshoumaru continued to playback all of their conversations in his head, over and over and over again as he traveled in darkness to where her scent seemed strongest. He was still amazed at himself for apologizing to her, intimate confessions blurted without thinking them out through logically. Akanesuji messed up his self discipline, but that was also what he liked about her. Love was a really wonderful thing.

 

He remembered falling asleep with his head on her belly, trying to listen for any sign of their baby after they had made love. He knew it was way too early yet, her belly had not started to grow, but he wanted to try anyway. How warm her skin was. Even the sounds of her heartbeat and breathing were a comfort to him.

 

When he had found some little hole to rest in during the daylight hours, sleep would not come and he was miserable.