InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Prisoner ( Chapter 3 )

The Prisoner

 

 

 

--(((())))—

 

 

Truthfully, Mushin had only heard whispers about Christianity. He knew nothing of its true meaning, not as he knew Buddha. Nor had he met any one who could explain the religion in simple terminology. So a threat, it was not, but it sounded so good pouring from his lips that he only mused himself in front of Tanaka that night. Nevertheless, he said a quick prayer in the morning to Buddha in favor of forgiveness for the lie he told on an unknown creed. Once he felt justified, he rolled over on his sleeping mat and heaved his bulky body closer to Itsuka, waking her. With miraculous precision, she scurried out of the room before Tanaka's servants came to wake him for the excursion.

 

 

He had to admire her cunning ways. Only she could be so bold as to sneak into his room after the palace walls had fallen quite for the night, a knowing smirk on her face and pleasant things on her mind. They rolled around on the mat for what felt like hours engulfed in each other, before they had fallen asleep.

 

 

Mushin smiled inspite of himself. It was an odd thing for a man such as he to be in love. He never dreamed of it, never longed for it, though it fell into his lap. At the very least he felt as though he had found something special in Istuka, something rare.

 

 

Her smile, maybe. He did not know.

 

 

They had met when mere children when Mushin's own father had taken him through Tanaka's lands for a visit to the city. He had not paid much attention to her then and only remembered by her rounded face. On the contrary to now, once he had laid eyes on the newly improved woman, she was in a sense something that he desired. He could see himself with her.

 

 

Giving up the priesthood his father had so forced him into, to be with Istuka. He could take her out of this servitude to Tanaka and in the back of his mind he planned to.

 

 

But first things first, he thought rising from the mat for the days activities.

 

 

The morning winds were shifting bringing in a foreboding breeze from the east. Even the sky seemed tainted with thick graying clouds, layered like the fabric that Tanaka Ukito had draped himself in for the day's trip. A traditional dobuku made of imported cloth from the continent.

 

 

Mushin would have been jealous if he hadn't found the fabric to be rather bulky and itchy.

 

 

If everything were to fall into place such as that morning, gaining his friend's freedom would be as easy as the after burn from good sake, which he could use right about now. Dealing with Tanaka Ukito was nerve racking, considering he was not that fond of such a man, but his resources were useful. His friend was going to owe him.

 

 

Owe indeed, Mushin thought gripping his staff so hard that he wondered if it would break apart in his hand. He gazed at the steed in front of him as they pulled the overly heavy carriage over the rough tureen closer and closer to the sound of the bustling town just beyond the open bamboo forest.

 

 

Tanaka sat at his side, head proudly in the air, a dignified manner about him. He had his hair lifted high on his head in a knot as a noble had come to wear in the recent years. He did look like a noble or at least he looked important.

 

 

The driver of the carriage jerked the reins bring the horses to a slow steady pace as they reach the clearing. The four samurai escort halted beside them. Their own to horses stout and obedient, staring out towards the village.

 

 

So unnecessary, Mushin thought, glancing from samurai to samurai. He would have purposed them going on foot if it had not been for Tanaka's insistence that the tureen was rough and would be traveled quicker if they were to travel by horse. He pouts like a baby; Mushin had decided when he boarded the wooden vehicle, trying to hide the frown on his lips.

 

 

Ukito remained silent for the entire trip holding his head high as if expecting someone of importance to pass through that empty forest.

 

 

Even the demons do not hassle with this place; Mushin scowled at the upcoming village. The top of its palace shown in the horizon surrounded by the silhouette of a small city against the gray clouds.

 

 

“My lord, we have arrived,” announced the gangly man tightening his grip on the reins having no real expression in his voice, nor on his face.

 

 

“Very good, Nao,” Ukito responded shifting his weight beside Mushin. “Stay the carriage outside that city, we shall enter on foot.”

 

 

--(((())))—

 

 

The outside world was full of obscurity compared to these four walls. Nothing else mattered and it seemed as if time itself had stopped, but that was ridiculous. Time stops for no man and no man can stop for time.

 

 

Tenrai was just jaded, and he knew it. The dimness of the cool cell was driving him crazy. He need open winds, and wide spaces. He never thought that a man could receive to much solitude, but after four days in this dreary den, he considering renouncing his priesthood and joining the simple life. At least that way he could be put with the other prisoners in the warmer cells.

 

 

That's unwise, he considered. His family had been in the priesthood for years and he would carry out that lineage if it killed him or until he found the right woman or women. Why restrict himself? He loved to indulge in the simple pleasures of life and women were one of many. The curve of a waist, the simple whispers from plush lips. The powdered cream skin, lined eyes, and the swish of a pulp round…

 

 

“Guard!” he called out his thoughts becoming unruly in those small walls. “Guard!” He shifted in the dark, his garments twisting around his body most uncomfortably.

 

 

Maybe, if he could see out that would be better? It would at least let him know that he was alive, along with the small dish of rice that was slid under the door three times a day.

 

 

What a nasty, distasteful ration. Tenrai turned up his nose each time he ate, only taking a few bites and then tossing it into the far corner of the cell watching the rats gather. Afterward, his nose would turn up further on his face as the scorched watery food was devoured by the little critters.

 

 

“Guard!” he called again sure that he was being ignored. “Guard!” He continued calling out to the man he knew stood outside his door. After a while he didn't know if he really wanted anyone or just wanted to hear his own voice. Sitting up on the cool floor, he folded his legs in front of him and leaned his back against the wall and continued to call.

 

 

The heavy wooden door of the entrapment shifted giving off a piecing noise, the sound of old metal scarping more metal. A thin wooded slit in the top of the door only meant for eyes to view into the cell, slid open with unnecessary force for such a small door.

 

 

“What?!” the irritation in the man voice was obvious, seeping through the cracks in the wood. With plans of intimidation, he grunted a little at the monk.

 

 

Placing on the disguise of pure innocence, Tenrai cocked his head to the side. Taking in a deep breath of relief, he asked, “are there no women prisoners in this entrapment?”

 

 

“You should be more concerned with yourself,” he grunted with malice in his voice. He had become annoyed with the monk's consistent questions. Ever few minutes he spent outside the small cell, another bothersome drivel of a question he'd have to answer. So without another word, the small door slammed shut and once again the metals clanged against one another.

 

 

“I am,” Tenrai mumbled. It was not a question to be ignored, he felt. He really wanted to know. It would make the days go faster.

 

 

Sighing, he watched the squirming figures in the corner breaking off little pieces of the burnt rice and stuffing it between two front teeth.

 

 

“At least you have something,” he sighed falling lazily to his side, lying down once again to nap. Before he could close his eyes, he heard the creak of the old wooden lock lift from its place. With a raised brow, he lifted back to his sitting position before the heavy door swung open.

 

 

A stubby man in an oversized kosode appeared before him. Eyes graying from age, Tenrai could tell that in a month or so the man would be blind. “You are free to go monk,” he stated in a rather husky voice, dry from years of use.

 

 

“W-“ Tenrai started, but thought better of it. Never question a good thing. So he simply smiled at the old man and nodded a pleasant goodbye to his roommates who continue munching appreciatively on the nasty rice. He lifted from his place brushing as much dust as he could from his black kosode. Making his way towards the open door, he could help the grin that surface when he came face to face with the guard who he had aggravated so. He was nothing that Tenrai expected as he only saw the man's dark eyes through the door. Small, shorter than Tenrai, but healthy all the same.

 

 

Shaking his head, he turned away from the man, who decided he was not worth the attention.

 

 

One he stepped into the candle lit halls, he found himself covering his eyes. The light was so new to him in those four days. Never did he want to see another jail, unless it included women, just one for pity sake.

 

 

He followed behind the man solemnly as he walked the narrow corridor. The walls lined with the same wooden door that had once separated Tenrai from the outside, behind each a new prisoner waited for release or death. Either way that was not his concern at the moment. He was in a hurry to run from that place and never look back, to celebrate his immaculate release.

 

 

The old man could not walk fast enough for the eager young man. For once he saw the light leading out into the day, he hurried his pace nearly running the old man over in his wake.

 

 

Shielding his eyes once again, he raced out, robe covered with filth from the cell room floors. The dungeon itself was only linked to the outside of the palace. The lord did not wish to soil his floors with the dirt of such people. Tenrai considered it all the better as he stomped his foot shaking off grains of brown rice that clung to his robe.

 

 

Didn't know that was there, he smiled at the small burnt crumbs. Shaking his robe as stepped into the light of day, he noticed the well-dressed noble that stood to greet him.

 

 

“So you are the man, who spoke his word to the Christians,” he greeted with a smudged look. He was upright and stood tall as though he owned the world. Tenrai was sure that his release had something to do with this man.

 

 

He opened his mouth to thank him when the noble's words struck him and he raised a brow. What are Christians? And what words did he have to say to them?

 

 

“Yes, yes,” the raspy voice behind him spoke up before a word could be uttered from Tenrai's mouth. “He is that man.” Quickly thinking he stepped in between the two men forcefully establishing his claim. “This is Tenrai. He is master of the wind you know.”

 

 

Tenrai flinched, so small that it was unnoticed by his companions. He hated that reference, but Mushin was insistent. He said it gave fear where fear was needed and added curiosity when necessary. Still it bothered Tenrai more than Mushin knew or pretended to know.

 

 

He bald his right hand into a tight fist and swallowed the ache that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach. It was a reason Mushin would speak those words. His smile was tight, but as his flinch, unnoticeable.

 

 

“So he is,” the noble commented. His face held a stringent look; expectant of good manners from Tenrai after all it was his word that had been accepted in the palace walls.

 

 

“This is Lord Tanaka. A noble from the North Providence,” Mushin continued introductions.

 

 

As anticipated, Tenrai took a graceful bow in gratitude. “Hajimemashite. It is my guess that you are the reason for my release today and for that I am grateful.”

 

 

“Well, Monk Tenrai, it is a returned favor for your companion Mushin.” Ukito replied no expression on his face and in his mind he felt that a noble should never show such primal affection to the lower class. Only problem was that to him most were in the lower class compared to who he wanted to be.

 

 

“Well, thanks to you Mushin,” Tenrai redirected his bow towards his older friend just then taking notice of the well trimmed greenery below his feet. A massive difference compared to the gray stone of the cell and he was more than glad of that.

 

 

“Oh, young Tenrai, it is my duty to protect a fellow monk,” Mushin answered him with a heavy laugh. Placing a friendly hand on his friends shoulders, he whispered, “shall we be on our way then.”

 

 

Tenrai nodded rising to his full height.

 

 

“I advise you to return to my home so that you may clean yourself and be on your way.” Ukito interrupted the two friends with a ting of jealously on his voice. Seeing the two men reminded his of his very own brother, whom had died possessed with a demon.

 

 

He turned from them before they could notice his attitude and began to lead the way.

 

 

Tenrai remained silent as he fell into step behind his savior and his two guards. Mushin settled behind them as they exit the walls of the palace into the streets. There did not seem to be a piece of greenery in sight. It was the same as Tenrai remembered as a child.

 

 

He had only been there a few times though the city never seemed to desolate despite the lack of greenery and open space for play. Back then he had been carefree with little worry. His father had once again abandon his mother as he went on his distant journeys. Year after year, he would disappear for a month exactly. Tenrai would count the days in waiting for his father and as planned he would appear at the doorstep, wrap his mother in a warm loving hug and then lift the tiny boy to the sky with little to no effort.

 

 

Yes, he would. Tenrai smiled awkwardly to himself. He would lift his hands to the sky and throw his tiny head back with gusto. His lips would part and he would grin showing all thirty-one and a half teeth- he had chipped one when he thought to eat a funny looking rock as a toddler.

 

 

He missed that especially now.

 

 

But that was a ridiculous way to think. A man of 24 was never to be so absurd. He straightened his head and his grin widened. Whoever said that he anything of the average 24.

 

 

Damn it, he cringed slightly. His hand was aching again. A stabbing pain that shot through his arm and down his spine could have brought him to his knees if he was not use to the jarring sting so much so that it was becoming more of an annoying throb.

 

 

He was almost afraid to look; though he covered it with a purple tekko trimmed in black. It too, was covered in filth, but Tenrai would not be removing it as he would his clothes once he returned to Ukito's home. His grip tighten involuntarily, the beads of the nenji (prayer beads) digging in his palm. It wrapped around the purple fabric tighter than usual, all 108 bright blue beads dancing in the sunlight in contrast to what it concealed.

 

 

“Oi,” Mushin nudged Tenrai snapping him back to the dusty roads of the small city. “Is it hurting you?”

 

 

Tenrai was taken back. Mushin's perception surprised him, at times. He, like the nenji beads tried to conceal the ache that seemed to surface only when mentioned.

 

 

“Only a mere pain,” he lied. He did not want to worry the aging Mushin while in the city. After all, the man had enough on his mind.

 

 

Still Tenrai's hand throbbed underneath the tekko. He did not know whether to call the cause of such pain a wound or weapon, for is both. A curse and a blessing.

 

 

In the back of his mind, his father sat alone before the brass statue of Buddha, draped in beautiful jewels and around it gifts of sacrifices, and precious stones. The older man gripped his right hand holding it out to the Buddha statue; tears streamed down the man's face in desperation. He screamed out splitting his son's eardrums, falling to his knees. His face was red and his eyes were fogged from the tears. If he knew of Tenrai's presence he gave no knowledge of him.

 

 

Tenrai had never seen his father in such a pitiful state. It made the young boy sick and that night he laid in bed, crying silently with no understanding of the older man's pain. Even his own mother could not comfort him.

 

 

Once through the maze of street, the men loaded up in the traveling carriage and headed for the bamboo forest. Tanaka sat with his head held high while Mushin began a routine of worry staring down at the purple fabric covering Tenrai's right hand.

 

 

Tenrai himself shook his head, throwing away those thoughts that had started to crease the skin between his brow and noticed the troubled expression that graced Mushin's face.

 

 

“No worries,” he smiled overly bearing. “It is okay for now.” He had said this lie so many times that it had started to come out as habitual.

 

 

Mushin frowned, turning from the man. He was no fool. His seat between Tanaka and Tenrai, becoming vastly uncomfortable.

 

Words That May Help

 

 

Tenrai-sound of wind; beautiful poetry

 

 

Nao- Mischief

 

 

Nenju carried by Japanese Buddhist monks were typically made of 112 wooden beads.

 

 

Tekko- the arm protectors worn by Miroku and Sango are called Tekko. Miroku wraps the Tekko over the Wind Tunnel.

 

 

 

 

Updates

 

 

Very spacey, until I get my own computer.

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

None.

 

 

 

 

Thank You for Reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tenrai-sound of wind; beautiful poetry

 

Nao- Mischief

 

Nenju carried by Japanese Buddhist monks were typically made of 112 wooden beads.

 

Tekko- the arm protectors worn by Miroku and Sango are called Tekko. Miroku wraps the Tekko over the Wind Tunnel.