InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Bamboo Whips ( Chapter 2 )

 

 

Chapter 2; Bamboo Whips

 

 

--(((())))—

 

 

Every action has a consequence. Even the seasons responded to one another, winter to summer, spring to fall. Tanaka Miyabi had contemplated this time, and again, though she was a most irrational girl, acting before she considered her very own consequence.

 

I was afraid. That's all, she continued searching for answers to her undisciplined actions by the banks of the river. Now she stood at the base of the mound that split the dense bamboo forest from the confides of her father's home. On the other side of the home, small village houses decorated the grassy hills, all in organized squares separated by thin dirt paths that served as roads for the rice fields on the outskirts of the rural community.

 

 

A dismal smile strained her lips as she tugged a mangled strain of hair up top her head, lowering her eyes to her bare feet.

 

 

In all truth, she was beautiful and had no knowledge of it. Her eyes glistened a blue-gray that changed with the seasons, sitting aptly above a button like nose and lips that had been stuck between her teeth so long they were turning plush red. Cheekbones raised so high that, the people of her village thought of her as exquisite and she was, but she worried now with the mess she had made of herself.

 

 

Her father had so often had words about her olive colored skin because she was not the snowy white that he'd hope for. And that alone made her question what beauty she heard the villagers speak so incessantly of.

 

 

She gazed at the white stone building contrasting against the black sky. It was not a lavishly decorated building, a red reeded rooftop and a bamboo porch. However, it was larger than the other homes of her village, and held more interior décor. It was the place she had grown up in and now it was the place she did not want to return to.

 

 

A foreboding thought crossed her mind and she wondered if she should return to the banks and collect each strain of hair she had cut, as though they could be replaced some how.

 

 

Tears stared to well up in the corners of her eyes and she hated herself for it. She wished she could stand up to her father, tell him what she thought, what she wanted, but that was not her place. Moreover, she could not gather that much courage.

 

 

As a lone figure in the night, she stood at the base of the small mound her home only inches away. Chewing on her lip, a habit her father wanted her to quit, she took the first step towards the lone building, crushing the drying grass beneath her feet.

 

 

Panic started to well up in the pit of her stomach. A lump formed in her throat so thick that it was becoming suffocating. Her heart pounded tapping a rhythm in her ears. Still it did not change her course and did not change her fear.

 

 

She had not yet ascended the thick wooden stairs, before she came face to face with him. He eyed her horrified at her appearance, obviously awaken from his sleep with word of her absents.

 

 

Tanaka Ukito was not an incredibly handsome man, but a most stanched man. He was only 5' 9”, but to Miyabi, he was massive. He stood before her dressed in his night robe of Japanese silk with beautifully imprinted feathers about the hem. As his features contoured into a smug grimace, it was clear that in some way he was Miyabi's father. He held those same unusual eyes and they sat in the middle of a thick unsympathetic face.

 

 

He was war stricken and had only managed to become bitter at his many disappointments. He was not a strong lord as he had so hoped, but he was a nobleman, rich, and respected well enough to be considered with the best.

 

 

Indeed, he fancied a son, but his true desire was for power. He valued it above anything and had spent most of his life trying to obtain that power through any means necessary. It was only luck that the daimyo laid eyes upon Miyabi. Nevertheless when approached by the influential figure he did not have to give a second thought to the young man. Any man would be honored to have such a son in-law. He was the man Ukito always wanted to be.

 

 

And now as he stared at her, foolishly baring teeth as if an animal, he could see that same disappointment that had plagued him his entire life rising in the back of his mind. What would the Daimyo think when he saw such a woman?

 

 

He tightened his grip on the stick of bamboo in his right hand. He had cut it along time ago, when Miyabi was a child of 7 and spoke so abruptly to Lord Yamato. The end sliced into thick strips that hung lazily over his hand. When swung with the right amount of force, it set skin, especially delicate skin on fire. Gazing into her terrified eyes, no compassion came to him. In fact, he felt nothing, but the sheer anger. In her impulsive actions she had not only damaged herself, but she had possibly ruined his chance at power and achievable greatness.

 

 

Breaking the unbearable silence between them, Ukito growled underneath his breath, “lye down.”

 

 

Miyabi reluctantly kneeled, clutching her hand to her chest and lowering her head. Her knees hit the pavement with a low thud that echoed in her mind. By the time she was laid flat on her stomach on the cool cobblestone walk, tears ran down her cheeks in small rivers and she sobbed openly, her vision so blurred that she could not see her father's servants peeking out the heavy wooden door of her home.

 

 

Lifting the stick of bamboo, he had so long ago prepared for her, he brought it down hard. Miyabi screamed even before the strips snapped at her back and once they did her once smooth skin began tearing in thin slits of open meat.

 

 

“Do you realize what you have done?!” he barked at her, though the only thing she heard was the crack of the abrasive whip.

 

 

Unacceptable, he'd called her. Even ugly. He roared so loudly that the villagers were starting to appear at the bottom of the mound with sleepy eyes, but close mouths. For no one would dare stop the respected Tanaka Ukito. So they watched, gawked, and turned their heads in shame. A few dismissed the vile act and proceeded back to their homes.

 

 

When Ukito concluded his act of chastisement on Miyabi, she laid quite, staring into the bamboo forest that held her hair by its river. Her sobs had turned into silent tears as she pressed her cheek on the cobblestone still cool from the night air.

 

 

Her father scowled at the heap of a woman in front of him, a diminutive feeling of commiseration for her pulled at his heart. After all, she had an impulsive father that acted without thought and was too stubborn to take back what he had done. Maybe he was where she got her impetuous ways?

 

 

Sadly, Ukito had forced such feelings away for so long that he could not decipher whether it was pity for his daughter or regret for his dissatisfaction in her. He did know one thing, though. She would not be his downfall.

 

 

Turning away, he decided that she was sickening to look at. Her beauty had been severely diminished in his eyes. It was not commonly thing for woman to show herself with hair such as her's. It was hacked at, chopped up, and it would takes months, no years for it to return to its former glory as it had reached the rare length, below her knees. Who had ever seen such woman?

 

 

And he told her so before he left her lying on the ground.

 

 

Her grayish eyes watched the swaying feather of his hem as he departed her. His words had hurt almost as much as the blows he had laid on her back.

 

 

Subsequently, Miyabi had enough resolve to lift herself from the ground, noticing the eyes that stared at her through the cracked door and open windows. Her skin paled to a sicken white and in the back of her mind she was sure that behind the sorrow filled eyes there was a sense of satisfaction. To those that knew no better, she had lived a somewhat high-quality life and needed to be reminded of her humanity. To others her father had every right with the distortion she had caused.

 

 

How easy it would be too simply march in to tell her father what she felt and then disappear into the bamboo forest?

 

 

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. Not today, she told herself, dragging her maimed legs up wooded steps towards the already open door. Today, I am afraid.

 

 

 

--(((())))--

 

 

The room is to quiet, Miyabi decide shifting her weight to rise from the mat she rested upon. The reverberation of her very breath could be heard in her ears and she could not want for the morning when servants would busy the quiet halls outside her door.

 

 

Careful to avoid the irritated skin about her back, she lifted to her knees staring at the rice doors leading to the courtyard behind the home. The white panels letting in a vague glimpse of moonlight. Absentmindedly, she began tugging on the strains of hair left on her head. Her father had immediately demanded that she get it cut in a respectable style, after her wounds were treated. Still it did not come below her ears.

 

 

When she saw her image her small mirror, she laughed out of sight of her father. It reminded her of a bowl about her face. Reluctant to say it, she was quite fond of it.

 

 

She felt no resentment towards her father and had slowly come to blame herself for stepping foot out of her room that night. The overwhelming feeling of guilt leaving her with a tight knot in her stomach.

 

 

“Sssh.”

 

 

Miyabi froze at the sound. Where they talking to her? Was someone watching her?

 

 

A small unorthodox giggle followed and she knew better.

 

 

Glancing around her room as if the answers were written on the dark wood of the walls, her eyes stopped on the door to the courtyard, just then noticing the shadows dancing behind the white panels of paper.

 

 

Curiosity had always been her friend and she listened to its every word. So, when it asked her to discover, she padded over the hard wood floors of her small room on hands and knees, pulling at the skin of her back, but refusing to stop her pursuit. Even as a pained hiss came from her lips.

 

 

Anticipation shot through her once she finally stopped and touched the brim of the sliding doors. Holding her breath, she applied just enough pressure for the door to inch its way open. Slowly, and steadily, she stole a glance into the open night.

 

 

The lake frogs crocked loudly in the distance and the morning fog was starting to form just above the grass, but none of that concerned Miyabi as her eyes surveyed the area; pass the small pond and over the dying grass, over every candle lantern and pass the stone path. Her sights stopped once she found what she was looking for. Behind the brush, in the mist of her mother's old garden of Nadeshiko, she could make out clumsy movements.

 

 

Another giggle.

 

 

Mumbles from a rather raspy voice sounded in her ears, though she could not make out the words and she knew without a doubt what was happening, but who? Like a inquisitive child, she stuck her head out a little further in hopes of making out the next set of whispers that flowed through the air.

 

 

“Bouji…”

 

 

More giggles.

 

 

Miyabi's ears perked up, able to make out that one word. She quickly covered her mouth to conceal any words that might escape.

 

 

Whoever was so bold as to perform such an act so close to public view was outlandish, not to mention a fool. But, oh the fury on her father's face if he were to find out…

 

 

Did they have no mind of the patrol that went on during the night? Essentially, one of her father's few samurai stood in clear view of the area in which the late night romp was taking place.

 

 

But it seemed that did not matter to the two or they had no noticed of the two armored figures, as they approached the brush. Obviously, the woman's giggles were far louder than she meant for them to be because when the guard called out to them she covered her mouth lifting to a sitting position where Miyabi got a practical view of her face, and breast.

 

 

Itsuka, Miyabi drew back in surprise.

 

 

Itsuka served her father as one of his best. She had grown up with Miyabi and they often played together behind close doors. And now, she hid behind the bushes like a common whore.

 

 

Itsuka's round face grimaced when she realized that it was she who the guards where calling to. Her hair was matted and sticking to the paling skin on her forehead. Beside her, a rather chubby man fumbled finding what little clothes he could.

 

 

To her disappointment, Miyabi was unable to get a clear view of what he looked like in the shadows.

 

 

The man continued to approach completely clad with a sword clanging against his side, stopping once in observable view of the two.

 

 

With sudden vigor, her companion leaped from his place, immediately on his feet, in his hand a wooden staff. His bald head smooth and cleanly shaven, his face plump and just as round as Itsuka's. Eye dark and slanted upward in an almost permanent smile. In a nervous jester, he dusted off the black kimono he wore with a brown piece of cloth.

He's a… Miyabi blinked once to make sure she saw correctly.

 

“Monk?” the surprise was evident in the samurai's tone. “What type of fool-hearted act is this?” He took a step closer, but smart enough to keep his distance.

 

 

“I am glad you showed, my dear warrior,” his voice came out muffled and monotonous, a complete change from the excited whispers Miyabi had heard only seconds earlier. Lifting his eyes to meet the samurai, he carefully tamed his look to appear like that of a holy being. “She was a possessed woman.”

 

 

Itsuka's mouth formed the perfect O shape as she digested what the monk had just said. “What?” she nearly choked on her words.

 

 

Straightening his stance, he continued to explain himself. “I was merely exercising the demons from this woman.” He lowered his head in a most humble bow, the top shining like glass in the candle lit courtyard.

 

 

“I have no demons in me!” Itsuka retorted back at the now modest man, unashamed of her bare breast. She narrowed her eyes, pinning the monk with a brutal stare as if daring him to say more.

 

 

“You have been released from their grasp,” his words flowed smooth like the sap from a tree. Fuzzy brows lifting causing three thin wrinkles of skin about his forehead. “That would account for why she is bare breasted in the presence of a monk.”

 

 

The samurai stared for a moment, eyes switching back and forth from Itsuka to the astute monk. His mouth frowning in confusion, not knowing what to believe. Bewildered, he scratched his head as it began to ache.

 

 

“She would have no memory of it. It had taken control of her would it not have taken her memory as well. She even ripped my Kesa,” he gave a congenial smile, lifting the brown fabric that Miyabi had seen him dust the soil from his robe with. He extended it out just enough for the samurai to see and believe.

 

 

Miyabi covered her mouth to keep from laughing at the look on young Itsuka's face as she realized that the warrior was drawing his conclusion. The frown between his brow eased away as he returned the monks smile.

 

 

Tugging on his immaculately placed samurai vest, the warrior asked, “What is your name monk?”

 

 

“They call me Mushin,” he responded taking another humble bow before him.

 

 

“And I am Chikao,” he said nodding in response. With a rather crude manner, he eyed Itsuka and glowered at her almost naked form. “Put some clothes on woman and return to your room. You should thank the humble monk for his kindness.”

 

 

Itsuka's face was bright scarlet, though Miyabi could not decide if it was shame or anger. “He is a lying monk,” she protested twisting her body, jerking at the kimono fabric around her waist.

 

 

"Of all the-" she began mumbling exclamation that would make the most vial man blush.

 

 

Chikao glanced back at the monk with a more than baffled look, and questioned, “is she still possessed?”

 

 

“No, young Chikao. I am good at my work I assure you that,” From the monks throat a most joyous sound emerged and his face lit up unlike any that she had seen. His smile stretched from ear to ear and dark eyes shined. His jolly laugh reverberated like music to Miyabi's ears as she watched on. His whole body shook underneath his black covering and instantly she decided that she rather liked the cunning Mushin, even though he was caught in a most compromising position.

 

 

“But she curses to the high heavens, she does?” he questioned staring at Itsuka's moving mouth as though she spit the very plague of death. “It is as if she has no mind of us,” his eyes returning to the monk.

 

 

Mushin contemplated only a moment, maintaining his tranquil demeanor “Well, you must understand, she does not remember and does not understand,” he enlightened the young man. In a gesture of true friendship, he draped his arm around the young man's shoulders and proceeded to lead him away from the still bare chested Itsuka.

 

 

And she watched them go, still jerking her clothes around her form.

 

 

Miyabi was still in wide-eyed shock, inches from bursting into terrible laughter at the dumbfounded look that covered Itsuka's face. She had never known that side of her friend, nor had she ever seen her bare breast.

 

 

Where had all that come from? Miyabi thought ashamed of her own. She was not that voluptuous of a woman though she had developed quiet nicely over the years.

 

 

It was not until Itsuka's eyes met her's that she realized how hard she had been staring. “My lady,” she gasped pulling her clothes completely over her exposed chest for the first time since the incident began. “What are you doing up so late?” She flushed turning from red to pale white.

 

 

Miyabi could tell that she was more than ill at ease showing herself like that, but she merely smiled. “Watching your performance, Itsuka,” she responded her smile turning into a grin.

 

 

Itsuka lifted herself to her feet, scurrying to Miyabi's side with a pleading look on her face. “My lady, you won't tell the lord, will you?”

 

 

Miyabi eyed her friend and could no longer hold back. An idyllic laughter escaped her and she had to cover her mouth to lessen the noise.

 

 

A listless smile crossed Itsuka's lips as she watched her lady. She had been one of those who peeked out the doors earlier that night to watch the appalling treatment her father placed on her.

 

 

It was strange to see such blissful laughter pour from her after her tearful night, but enjoyable all the same. Besides, Itsuka liked the short hair cut on Miyabi.

 

 

Keeping her thoughts concealed, Itsuka allowed a true grin of her own and waited for Miyabi to speak again.

 

 

“Never,” she responded breathless. She gripped her ribs forcing in what little air she could afford. “I could not dare.”

 

 

Itsuka gave a sigh of relief believing Miyabi to be true to her words.

 

 

With a sudden sparkle in her eye, she turned to her friend. Her inquisitive look filling Itsuka with a deep seeded apprehension. She knew her well, and Miyabi had a knack for asking uncanny questions. Itsuka did not blame Miyabi. She had not been exposed to much in life. And maybe it was all for the better.

 

 

“Can you answer something for me, please Itsuka?” Miyabi whispered expectedly, gaining a shamed air about herself.

 

 

“Yes,” Itsuka raised a brow at the thought.

 

 

The lady hunched her shoulders and lowered her head. Her cheeks pinking gently.

 

 

“Go ahead,” Itsuka encouraged. The look on Miyabi's face drawing sheer interest from her. She shifted her position settling in beside the modest maiden and waited.

 

 

“How…” she started searching for the right words. “What…” she sighed gathering herself.

 

 

Spit out Miyabi, she told herself glancing at her friends raised brow and smiling face. “How is it?”

 

 

“It?” Itsuka questioned returning Miyabi's stare millions of conclusions racing through her head of what Miyabi could possibly be thinking of. “It…” her voice trailed off as sudden realization dawned on her and now it was her time to laugh.

 

 

“Don't laugh,” Miyabi protested with a puckered brow discerning the curve in her friends's lips.

 

 

Itsuka let out a light chuckle, before running a hand through the sweat soaked tangles in her hair. “Well,” she smirked. Unlike her lady, Itsuka had become rather promiscuous girl and enjoyed the simple-minded pleasures life had to offer.

 

 

Cringing as she jerked out one of the tangles from her waist length locks, she broke into a fully awkward smile that stunned Miyabi. “Well, won't you find out.”

 

 

At that Miyabi redden to a ripe tomato. She would, wouldn't she?

 

 

The realization brought on that familiar feeling of dread turned her stomach and she openly cringed unbeknownst to Itsuka.

 

 

“At least it seems as though he would be quiet good at such a thing,” a slow unorthodox gleam filled her eye and Miyabi if she had known any better should have taken caution. Secretly Itsuka could only wonder what it would be like to be with a lord such as that. To her, he was strong, handsome, valiant, and at the peak of perfection in his life.

 

 

As she look at her friend now, Itsuka had to wonder why he would choose such an ignorant young child like Miyabi or at least that was what Itsuka thought of her friend. She had no desire to be with him, it was obvious to her. But maybe that ignorance was what he liked about her. In the recesses on her mind, Itsuka had begun to regret her licentious behavior, considering maybe becoming more of the reprehensible character that Miyabi was.

 

 

The thought brought on a laugh, gaining a perplexed look from the said ignorant girl.

 

 

“What is so funny?” Miyabi pouted folding her arms across her chest at Itsuka's sudden outburst. Rather insulted she asked again with more vigor, “What is so funny, Itsuka?”

 

 

“I guess it is all as well,” she sighed concluding her laughter, ignoring Miyabi's question. She refused to believe she was jealous of Miyabi. Yet she had been for years.

 

 

Standing to her feet, she dusted imaginary dust from her red kimono and shifted her breast making sure to keep her prefect voluptuous form perked and aware. Her inadequacy to Miyabi, feeling her with a want for attention and she knew just where to get it.

 

 

“Where are you going?” Miyabi asked oblivious to her friends feelings, but more than aware that she was not going to the servant quarters.

 

 

“To get Mushin, where else?” A sigh of irritation escaped her and she immediately regretted it, knowing that Miyabi still had the power to punish if she wished, though she never did and probably never would.

 

 

“Why?” Miyabi questioned. After such treatment from a man, she could not possible understand running back to him.

 

 

“He is a good lay,” Itsuka responded staring in to distance, not wanting to see the clear confusion on Miyabi's face. She was easily becoming agitated by the girl's questions.

 

 

Taken back by her friend's reply, she looked stunned and a little disturbed by her upset.

 

 

“Would you like to come?” Itsuka redeemed herself and regretted it more than that disgraceful sigh she had given.

 

 

Miyabi's eyes lit with excitement and she felt sorry for her. Maybe she would never know how Itsuka really felt or maybe she just chose to live unknowingly. Which ever it may be, Miyabi seemed contented in her way and Itsuka would never ask.

 

 

Lifting from her spot between the sliding doors, she tugged at her watarie hanten and smiled. Reminiscences of childhood filled her head once Itsuka took her hand and began to pull her down through the courtyard towards where the monk and samurai were headed.

 

 

In truth, Itsuka smiled to herself. In her to thoughts of childhood filled her with vivid memories and she could see Miyabi's mother in her garden that she had earlier defiled with the monk and she wonder that if maybe she was watching on the other side. Did she feel anything?

 

 

She sighed out loud pulling Miyabi along the dirt path, feet exposed and dirty.

 

 

“Sssh,” she touched her lips ordering young Miyabi to silence as they neared the edge of the courtyard. Itsuka peeked around the bamboo wall of the building, Miyabi under her chin making sure to get a good view.

 

 

“Okay,” Itsuka gave a breath of relief realizing that no one was there. She tightened her grip on Miyabi's hand, so tight that it was starting to ache, but she said nothing.

 

 

Sliding around the corner of the bamboo wall, Miyabi could see the remnants of a bright light coming from the next corner, which led to the entrance doors. Itsuka flattened herself against the wall in front of Miyabi, breathless and anxious, though Miyabi was excited by the thrill of the hunt.

 

 

Itsuka shook her head at her friend and crept a little further with her back so stiff it hurt. Miyabi shifted her weight onto her right foot and stepping on the tips of her toes, smiling inward at the thought of this devious character.

 

 

As the girls neared the corner, Miyabi could hear her father's voice, impatience, but tolerant. They reached the edge with no incident. Both hearts pounded in one single rhythm that only speed up when Miyabi decided to peek around the corner.

 

 

Her eyes immediately drawn to those dark eyes of the monk's as he smiled, deep in conversation with father. Each man seemed unaware of the two girls.

 

 

Both men stood posed in the very spot Miyabi had laid that night. Two soldiers decorated their right sides. She could tell by the satisfied look on her father's face that he was given the reasonable amount of praise from the monk.

 

 

She hushed and focused herself on the two men so much so that she forgot about Itsuka as she loomed above her head.

 

“You are well trained monk,” the tedious Ukito complimented.

 

Once again that ebullient laugh filled her ears.

 

Straining her neck a little further than her sound judgment advised, she scrutinized the different character as he continued the meaningless conversation and she hung on their every word. He had traveled with his comrade through the furthest corners of Japan in search of a most atrocious demon. They had become well known in their travels and had stopped along the way to help when needed. Yet they were tired in traveling and looked for a place to bed down for the night or more.

 

 

“However-“

 

 

Miyabi's face brightened at the word.

 

 

“It seems as though my comrade has ran into a bit of trouble along the way involving the newly spread Christian religious leaders,” he folded his arms over his chest closing his eyes for a more calm demeanor and continued. “He has been placed in the city's prison beneath the palace there.”

 

 

“It would seem this new religion is a bother to you,” her father nodded rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe the Christians pose more of a threat than anticipated.” With a narrow squint in his eye, he quizzed Mushin, “What will you have me do about that?”

 

 

“If I may be so bold as to ask your assistance in this matter for his release.” Once again, Miyabi saw him bow. For needed persuasion, he added, “there is no telling what that demon girl would have done.”

 

 

A smirk crossed Miyabi's face as the girl in question gave an exasperated huff and slung her body against the wall out of sight of the men.

 

 

“Sssh,” Miyabi hissed at her as she noticed the perplexed look her father had taken.

 

 

“I guess you have done a good deed here tonight,” he commented of the Mushin, poring over his form sizing the pudgy man up from his black robe to his dusty sandals. Considering the small offer, for it would be nothing for Ukito to ask the release of a prisoner if he deemed worthy.

 

 

“This is all I ask of you. For he did nothing wrong. Only spoke the truth of Buddha.” Mushin continued hoping to convince Ukito eventually.

 

 

With a stirring brow, he answered the monk in a low monotonous voice. “Fine monk for your deed tonight alone, I will allow for this.”

 

 

“Arigatou gozaimasu,” he lowered his bow in a show of appreciation of his deed.

 

 

“Now show him to a guest room for the night.” Ukito turned away from Mushin catching sight of the round headed mistress with her head poking out from the side of the building. “Itsuka,” he called just before she could disappear from his sight. “I would hope that you have given the monk a considerately decent show of gratitude.”

 

 

Itsuka stepped out from her hiding place and Miyabi's heart stopped, falling on a downward spiral to her feet. She was not sure if she was breathing nor did she care. Her back stayed glued to the bamboo wall and the sudden excitement she had felt at the beginning of their adventure had turn into pure trepidation.

 

 

If Ukito had known that she was there, he did not show interest. Gaining a boisterous air about himself, he continued his route into his home and laughed within himself. He loved his authority even if it was only mere, he had importance.

 

 

“Do not bother me with anything else for the night,” he called back to his soldiers feeling a bit tired from the night's events. “I must rest till morning. We leave at dawn.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Words That May Help

 

 

Miyabi- refinement; elegance

Nadeshiko- an autumn blooming flower in Japan.

 

Bouji- sex; sexual intercourse; lovemaking

 

Kesa- (Buddhist priest's) stole (the purple cloth Miroku wears over his robe.)

 

Mushin- innocent

 

watarie hanten- a bed jacket worn over a kimono. Pictures at http://www.hanten-usa.com/

 

Arigatou gozaimasu- very formal way of saying thank you.

 

 

 

 

Updates

 

Three weeks estimate, maybe a little earlier, but no later.

 

 

 

Disclaimer

I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the characters placed in this story.

 

 

 

Take Note

Sorry, so late, but it's a long story about a lost disk and broken computer.

 

 

 

 

Thank You for Reading.