InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ There and Back Again ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2

The wind whistled a haunting melody in the open fields of Japan. The perfectly scythe shaped moon cast an eerie, silvery-blue glow, illuminating the vast landscape as various creatures of the night made their way out of their resting places, ready to go on the prowl. The sky was clear, the air slightly chilly. It was a night when prey hid and predators hunted.

This didn't seem to bother the glowing blur that was making its way swiftly through the lands, though. And why should it? He was a predator too, after all. A creature the likes of which ruled Japan, animals and men alike, now, even though in a few thousand years would seem more of a myth than wizards and witches. Feet clad in boots that looked more like slippers, covered ground faster and lighter than humanly possible, making their youki covered owner seem like nothing more than a streak of light to the casual observer. The great taiyoukai of the Western Lands, the infamous dog-demon general, Inutaisho Shimoharu was making his way home.

Being one of the four demon lords of Japan, the inuyoukai took his responsibility to the land and its inhabitants very seriously. He did have a vast army and hoards of servants back at his castle, but that didn't make him arrogant or self-centered, something that had earned him both the love and respect of his people. He knew that no one could do a better job at protecting them than himself, and he ruled with a strict, but just hand (or paw, as the case may be). Unlike the other demon lords, Inutaisho preferred to do his own patrols, making sure his borders and subjects were safe and well taken care of for himself.

And that's exactly what the proud inutaiyoukai was doing now. He'd set off with the setting sun and was now making his way back to his mate and pup, content that his lands were safe for another night. Although he could have taken to the sky or even shifted to his real shape, Inutaisho had settled for using his inhuman speed and covering the distance on foot. He'd always loved the feeling of the night air in his face and silver hair. It was refreshing and helped clear the mind, in his opinion. A perfect way to end a patrol. He had no idea how different this particular night was going to be though, or how much it would affect his and his pack's lives.

With another powerful push of his strong legs, Inutaisho found himself weaving through the trees of a young forest. It wouldn't be long now, he thought, and he'd enter the heart of his territory, the lands surrounding his castle and home. Sniffing the air in anticipation, Inutaisho almost stumbled when his sensitive nose caught a truly unexpected scent. Stopping dead in his tracks, the dog-demon tilted his head slightly upward and, with a puzzled expression, took a more careful sniff of the surrounding air.

Like most dogs, the inuyoukai didn't have very good eyesight (though still far superior to that of ordinary canines), but he did have an exceptional sense of smell. So, focusing on that, the Lord of the Western Lands closed his eyes and concentrated on the night wind, trying to pick up what had caught his attention. He'd been right, there it was again! A delicate, enchanting scent that played on the edges of is senses. Mint, melting snow, and…kitsune youkai!

Snapping his eyes open, the dog-demon furrowed his brows in confusion and tilted his head in the direction of the delightful smell. Whoever it was, didn't seem to be moving, and that was strange. Kitsune youkai were known as loners and overall reclusive creatures, it was rare to see one out in the open like this, apparently sitting in one spot, even if it was night. But even stranger was the cool, refreshing undertone he'd picked up in the scent. Most kitsune had a close bond with fire and earth. In all his years, the mighty taiyoukai had only heard of one clan with an affinity for the more elusive elements, wind and water, the Kage Clan. But as far as he'd heard, the shadow foxes, called after their clan, were even more secretive than their cousins the fire and earth kitsune. That, combined with their rarity, only helped turn them into something akin to a myth even among youkai.

So, after all this, it was only natural that the dog-general had halted his return home and instead opted to follow the unexpected scent. Inutaisho was truly curious. If it really were a Kage kitsune, what was it doing so close to his territory? Despite himself, he felt excitement. If his suspicions were proven to be true, he'd be the first to see a shadow fox in a century, if not more!

It wasn't long before his nose and feet carried him over a small clearing right to what looked like an old well. The inuyoukai was confused. Had the creature perhaps fallen down the well and injured itself, rendering it unable to escape? He shook the thought out of his head. It was rather unlikely. All fox youkai were graceful and agile, the Kage Clan even more so, if the stories were true.

Cautiously, Inutaisho neared the old well, his claws glowing an acidic green just in case, and peered over the rim. At first he didn't see anything, and he cursed his poor sight, but then his eyes adjusted slightly and the stoic demon barely contained his almost comically surprised expression. He managed to tone it to down a mere widening of the golden orbs. There, at the very bottom of the well, lay a small, indistinguishable lump. That in itself wasn't that exciting, but that small lump seemed to be emitting the scent he'd picked up earlier.

Hesitating for no more than a millisecond, the inuyoukai jumped straight into the well and landed elegantly beside the slumped figure, his mokomokosama fluttering gently back to its place on his shoulder. Inutaisho gently turned the prone form over so it was lying on its back and his jaw clenched in an attempt to contain a fierce snarl. He hadn't been mistaking. The form he was now kneeling beside was too tiny to be a grown Kage kitsune. It was a cub, a mere babe of no more than four or five summers. And the condition this rare and beautiful creature was in had the demon lord's eyes bleed red for a moment.

The cub was dressed in strange, but old and worn clothing that was obviously too large for the slim frame. The eyes were covered by some sort of black, round frames with a clear stone in them, now cracked. The pointy ears, three slanted black lines on each side of his cheeks and the single black, fluffy tail with a silver tip clearly gave away the little one's demonic heritage. The cub's skin was smooth and clear, glowing slightly silver in the shining moonlight, except for a jagged, lightning-shaped scar on its forehead. Full, pink lips set in a delicate, if a bit feminine, face, and a tuft of raven black, silky hair finished off the look nicely. But despite the beautiful picture the cub made, Inutaisho could clearly see the signs of malnutrition in the slightly too hollow cheeks and too prominent cheekbones.

And that made him, to put it mildly, very unhappy. Youkai were mostly hunters, yes. They had a generally ruthless and sometimes even primal nature. They were rarely one hundred percent loyal to anyone but themselves and their mate and pack, if they had one. But they valued their cubs like no other race. Even though most demons were immortal, they weren't as fertile as humans or animals. Cubs were highly praised and fiercely guarded, not even enemy youkai dared harm, let alone slaughter them. It was considered the lowest and most shameful of deeds.

So to now see a cub so young, and even worse, a Kage kitsune, at the bottom of a dirty old well, clothed in nothing but rags and obviously malnourished, had Inutaishou's youkai almost howling in rage. Only the site of the slowly rising and falling thin chest and the lack of fresh blood stalled the demon lord.

Without a second thought, the taiyoukai scooped the little one in his strong hands, grimacing again at how light the boy felt, and gracefully leaped out of the well. He only hoped his mate didn't mind another cub, though he had a suspicion his lovely Miaka would be more than happy to take the foxling in. Either way, he wasn't leaving the boy here. Whoever had abandoned the rare creature to its fate, had forfeited all rights on its life the moment they had done it.

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When Harry first regained his senses, all his scrambled brains could come up with was `Who the Hell puts a truck at the bottom of a well and then has it charge vertically at innocent tourists?' It was quite the complex thought for someone who'd just clawed his way back to consciousness, but, as already mentioned, he'd always been a smart kid. A bit reckless when curious, but smart nonetheless.

The next thing his poor, abused mind registered was the sensory overload. He groaned, noting how dry and sore his throat felt, as his nose was bombarded by hundreds, if not thousands, of smells and odors, the amount so great he couldn't even distinguish them from one another. And his ears, Gods above, his ears! He could swear he could hear the scraping sound his hair made against whatever surface he was laying on, as he winced slightly from all of the sensations! Not to mention the fact his skin felt as though it had been rubbed raw, he was oversensitive in and aware of places he hadn't even known existed! He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the sense-free darkness he'd been blissfully lounging in for the past…he didn't know how many hours. And he hadn't even opened his eyes yet!

To be honest, he didn't really want to. He had no idea what had happened or where and, more importantly, with whom he was. Oh, he remembered the surcumbstances that had landed him in whatever position he was in now perfectly clearly. He remembered the trip to Japan, the visit to the Higurashi shrine, his uncle telling him (okay, ordering him and threatening him with severe consequences including, he was sure, bodily harm) to stay put, his usual disobedience, the well and the light…He remembered all that alright. He'd never had what he'd heard people refer to as temporary amnesia after fits of unconsciousness. He should know, how many times had he woken up in his closet after one of his uncle's more…zealous sessions with nothing more than his bitter memories for company?

No, he didn't dare open his eyes because he was afraid he'd find Uncle Vernon's fat face looming above his ominously, red and purple with anger at his blatant disregard for the man's rules. He knew perfectly well how good his loving uncle was at keeping his word when it came to punishing Harry. Just the though of that leather belt and its heavy buckle slashing across his back was enough to have him hyperventilating.

Having worked himself into a panic already, Harry almost shrieked when he felt something wet and cold press against his forehead. Instead, his trembling body froze, going completely rigid, and his previously furiously contracting lungs refused to take in even a breath of air. The brilliant emerald orbs snapped open a moment later, and Harry smacked himself with an industrial sized sledgehammer mentally. The light that invaded his poor eyes felt like it was burning into his skull. Harry couldn't help the pained whimper that escaped him. His eyes immediately teared up, but the child refused to close the stinging organs and tried valiantly to blink the moisture blurring his vision away. He was determined to see where he was and who he was with. Self-preservation instincts honed from years of use demanded it of him.

He didn't know how long he just lay there, blinking his eyes like a loon, when he finally realized that the cool wet feeling hadn't left his forehead and that a soft, feminine voice was slowly but surely drowning out the rest of the awful din. The gentle murmur felt like a balm to his aching ears, so he tried to focus on that and soon everything else was nothing but a background buzz. It was still there, but now it was more muted, like every sound but the calming voice was coming from underwater, deep, deep underwater. Relieved, Harry wondered if the same would apply for his nose, which was currently scrunched up in distaste and confusion. And, sure enough, soon he caught whiff of a delicate flowery fragrance. It was light but had a slight undertone of cinnamon to it. Taking deep, long breaths, Harry relaxed with a sigh and focused again on his vision. Surely someone who smelled as wonderfully and had such a calming voice couldn't be threatening, could they?

His blurry vision soon cleared and Harry made out a high wooden ceiling with a few beams of sunshine spread out. Confused, the six-year-old scrunched his brow in confusion. Where was he? This definitely wasn't the ceiling to the well house, and even more definitely not the hotel the Dursleys had decided on.

Suddenly, he became aware of the voice still murmuring to him in a language he didn't understand, but was sure he' heard. At least he was still in Japan. Maybe not Kansas, but at least Japan. Slowly, so as not to aggravate his oversensitive skin further, he turned his head in the direction of the voice. What he saw stumped him to the point of stupification. A beautiful…no, beautiful didn't even begin to describe it, a gorgeous woman was smiling at him tenderly, still holding the wet cloth she'd obviously used to wipe at his forehead.

Sleek, silver-white hair framed a pale, obviously Asian face with perfect facial features. Every line and plane in it was without a fault, symmetric and all around stunning. Piercing but soft light golden eyes seemingly glowed with good nature and care. She was fit to grace the front cover of every fashion and beauty magazine, in Harry's humble opinion. But it was the blue crescent moon on her forehead and the twin magenta lines on her cheeks that had put Harry into such a state of shock. That, and the pointy, delicate ears and elaborate, elegant and obviously expensive blue and green robes she wore (he distantly remembered reading they were called kimono).

He didn't know how long he just gaped like a brain-damaged piece of road kill (a fitting description of how he felt, actually), before he realized she was talking to him again, and that she seemed worried for some reason. He didn't want her to worry. He wasn't sure how or why, but he felt he was safe, and that was rare in his world. She just seemed to send this soothing vibe, he couldn't help but want to trust her, to sink into her embrace. And her smell was washing over him, giving him a pleasant, dozy feeling… He tried to sit up and reassure her, tell her he was alright and that she shouldn't waste her worries on him, that he wasn't worth it, but his body felt so damn weak! His trembling elbows refused to support his weight, and he grunted in frustration.

It seemed he didn't have to worry though, because the next thing he knew, she was pushing him back down. He peered up at her from his position on the bed or whatever it was he was resting on, and once again marveled at the sort of surreal beauty she had about her. She was smoothing out his hair now, and he just basked in the sensation of total safety that surrounded him. He'd have mistaken her for an angel of some sort, had he still believed in God or angels. He felt compelled to learn her name.

“Who are you?” He slurred in awe, his eyes already drifting closed as his body prepared to shut down completely.

He vaguely noted the concerned look that flittered over her noble features, before she lifted a dainty hand and pointed it at her chest, uttering only one word.

“Miaka”

The last thought to pass through Harry's foggy mind was that her name was as beautiful as her.

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The Lady f the Western Lands, Inutaisho Miaka, slid the shoji door closed behind her, as she elegantly swept the last folds of her kimono out of the little one's room. Her flawless face was thoughtful and worried. With one more lingering glance at the now closed shoji screen, the beautiful inuyoukai turned and glided in the direction of her mate's study.

When one of her servants had roused her from sleep three nights ago with an urgent message from her beloved Shimoharu, she'd been more than a little worried. Her mate was easily one of the most powerful demon lords alive, but that didn't stop her from feeling a bit of anxiety every time he left to do his duty. So, when she'd found him safe and sound in the parlor of their castle, she'd been more than a little relieved.

But she still couldn't describe the shock that had seized her at the site of the frail looking bundle in her mate's strong hands. At her questioning look, Shimoharu had nodded only once. It had been enough. She too had heard tales of the legendary Kage Clan and, the moment she'd taken in the scent of melting snow and kitsune youkai, she'd realized the ramifications of the fact that an un-well looking kit was now resting in her mate's arms. Her mother instincts had kicked in at once. She'd automatically put her beloved Sesshoumaru, then resting safely in his rooms, in the place of the young shadow fox, limp and seemingly dead to the world, and her youki had flared. The cub before her being a few years younger than her own son only added fuel to her anger. Whoever had done this to the tiny kitsune, would answer to her.

Without a word, she'd rushed to her still mate and scooped the fragile looking kit from his hands. She frowned worriedly at how light he'd felt, but said nothing as she'd rushed through the expansive hallways to one of the guest-rooms, calling instead for a servant to get warm water and herbs.

The following discoveries had left her tender heart aching for the small shadow fox. His body, once uncovered from the rags previously covering it, had shown obvious signs of malnutrition. The ribs had been almost painfully prominent, the arms too skinny. And although the young kitsune hadn't been grotesquely thin, the slash marks they'd found cross-crossing all over his back had almost had the calm, elegant Lady of the Western Lands snarling and cursing in anger and revulsion. Some of the marks had still been red and swollen, possibly infected.

She'd kept her cool though, and tended to every single one of the wounds. She couldn't do anything about the older scars, but she hoped the newer ones would heel completely with the proper care. One thing had become clear after she'd finished though. Whoever had done this to the poor kage kitsune, would have to go through her if they ever intended to get to him again. She'd known then that she'd keep the kit and take him under her wing. Not as a mother, because abandoned or orphaned youkai children never looked at anyone like another parent (and she had a sinking suspicion it was the latter case), but as a caretaker and a guardian. From what little she'd seen, her mate felt the same, and she was sure her Sesshoumaru would love someone around about his own age.

That had been three days ago. She hadn't left her young patient's side for more than a few minutes since then. Sesshoumaru had been irritated at her keeping secrets from him, but she'd wanted to make sure the shadow foxling was well and truly healed before she subjected him to her son's rather…extravagant and eccentric nature. She chuckled slightly at that thought. Her pup could be quite a handful for those more unused to his mood swings.

With a start, Miaka was brought out of her musings as she realized she'd reached Shimoharu's study door. She didn't bother knocking and simply entered. She knew her mate would have smelled her by now. And she was right. The moment she entered, her lord rose gracefully from his seat among a multitude of scrolls and parchment and gave her a tender smile.

“Miaka, my darling” He rumbled in his low baritone “How come you've left our kitsune's side? I thought I wouldn't see you again before he was completely well. You seem so taken with the foxling.”

She just smiled back at his light mocking. It was true, she was enamored with the shadow cub, she couldn't deny it.

“Well you were right, to an extend.” She answered with a light laugh “He is getting better. That is why I am here, to tell you he woke up a while ago.”

Inutaisho's eyes widened minutely and his face instantly sobered. He closed the distance between them with a few swift strides.

“He is well? Awake, you say?” He began, excited “Did he say who he was? Did you tell him who we are?” The demon's expression darkened and he almost growled the last part out “Did he say who left him at the bottom of that well, starved and beaten?”

Miaka smiled tenderly at her mate. She loved him, her Shimoharu, always thinking of others. She lifted one elegantly clawed hand and cupped his cheek softly before speaking to placate her youkai lord.

“Calm down, beloved. He woke only briefly, I believe he was exhausted from whatever it was that had happened to him. He has the most amazing green eyes I have ever seen.”

Inutaisho sighed slightly, but then perked up again.

“Well, did he at least say what his name was?”

Miaka instantly lost her good humor and her expression changed to one of worry. The change didn't go unnoticed by her mate.

“What is it? Miaka, darling?” He asked her gently, trying to hide his own rising worry.

“I…I believe he does not know how to speak our language, Shimoharu.” She finally uttered.

Inutaisho looked truly perplexed.

“What makes you say that, Miaka?”

“He did say something while he was awake, my lord. But it was not in any language I am familiar with. I took a guess and told him my name, thinking it was what he wanted to know. And before that, I had been speaking to him, hoping to calm him, but I do not think he really understood what it was I was saying. I believe it was more the sound of my voice that soothed him.”

The taiyoukai sighed heavily and sat down on one of the cushions littering the floor of his study, pulling his mate down with him. He took a hold of her hand and looked her in the eyes.

“That is unexpected. But we will get over it, you yourself said the sound of your voice alone was enough to calm his fears. He will learn and he will heal. We will make sure of it.”

The certainty and dedication in his voice almost had Miaka shedding tears of joy.

“So, nothing changes?” She asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Inutaisho smiled brilliantly at her and traced one of the magenta lines on her porcelain cheek with his calloused fingers.

“Yes, my love. Nothing changes. He stays here with us, as long as it is what he wishes.”