InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Humiliation ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5; Humiliation

 

 

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There was no commotion, no word spoken, expect an offered apology before Lord Tanaka shut the door in Tenrai's face. He gave a long-suffering sigh, staring at the dark wood before him.

 

 

Maybe I should at least check on the girl, but was it not her fault? He had considered this even before he had returned from the woods to gather his things. She had, after all, followed him. Though did she deserve that type of treatment for her curiosity?

 

 

He did not think so, but at the same time was it truly any of his business. After watching Tanaka tonight, he found that he did not agree with most of his actions as a lord, but he had not said a word. He felt it was not his place.

 

 

"What is done is done?" he spoke out loud turning from the door finally, feeling the heavy drawl in his eyes. Narrowing his sights at the downhill stride to the village, he smiled noticing the bright light shining through the window of one of the better looking home.

 

 

The village it is, he smiled to himself.

 

 

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

 

 

Tanaka could careless of the monk, he had so gingerly opened his home to, but if he had so much as touched Miyabi he prayed for his death. To ruin something that had been so carefully thought out, so carefully planned was inexcusable and despicable.

 

 

It was that contemplation that fueled Tanaka as he stormed through the corridors, shadows of death looming in his eyes. Angry seeped through his skin so thick that the few servants in the same corridors pressed themselves against the bamboo walls, wishing to merge with the material in hopes of not being seen. Anyone who was awake that night knew where he was headed, but no one knew the extent of his rage. What he would do or how far he would go.

 

 

His footsteps pounded the floors coming to a halt in front of Miyabi's door. She heard him before he pushed the screen door back, so hard that the wood splintered. Her wait for him had been excruciating, sitting on the floor, bawling into the palms of her hands.

 

 

She knew he was more than upset. She should have never followed the monk, but why punish him for her mistake by allowing him to spend the night in the wideness. A panicked fear slithered up her spine and her heart felt as though it would explode from the frightened sight before her.

 

 

He was blinded by his anger and tainted with hate, more of himself than any other. In her at that moment was everything that he wanted and she was close to ruining it all over again. His eyes were red and his body seemed to swell with the fury of a mad man.

 

 

"You disobedient child," he started in on her huddled form at his feet. Her eyes wide and frightened as they should be, gazing up at him. "What is it that you think you are accomplishing?" His words were like venom and cut deeper than she would have allowed had she not treasured the man before her.

 

 

"I am sorry!" she cried out falling at his feet in forgiveness. Her forehead lying against the cool floorboards as floods of water poured from her eyes. A slow prayer formed on her lips, loud enough for only the most sensitive ear to hear.

 

 

He fell silent, fuming. Thoughts running through his head of the young woman in front of him huddle beside the handsome monk, entered his mind once again and he felt the pressure build needing release, until finally he lifted his foot making contact with her shoulder.

 

 

She screamed at the pain rolling over onto her back, away from his feet. The agony that she felt did nothing to dull the pain he caused her. Closing her eyes against the sight above her, she couldn't calm her hasty breaths nor ease the fear of what came next if anything.

 

 

"Did he lay his hands on you?!" Tanaka screamed circling the crying spectacle. "Did he?!"

 

 

"Noooo," she sobbed out. Her words no more than whispers in comparison to his yells. Balling her hands into tight fist against her stomach, she bellowed there in hope that he would just leave her now, like he would usually done.

 

 

But tonight was different. Tonight he had caught her with another man. Sneaking around, whoring around, ruining her body. Before Tanaka could catch himself, he leaped upon her.

 

 

"If he has touched you, so god, I will kill you." He promised placing his left hand in the between her breast pressing down with unnecessary force, trapping her and cutting her hasty sobs short.

 

 

Her slender hands grasped desperately at his stubby fingers until he relented a moment to let in a much needed breath for her burning lungs.

 

 

She will not ruin this for me! She cannot... She will not...

 

 

Tanaka could feel his own sanity slipping , his mind nothing more than an anger haze of irrational emotion. Though, he had to know, had to make sure that....

 

 

What if she had ruined it all? What if she had fallen for the strange monk? What if he had forced her?

 

 

Sightless, he traced his hand roughly up her leg, clumsily pulling her clothing aside in anticipation of finding out what he had so desperately tried to prevent. His fingers danced gently over his daughter searching, searching blindly, his hand gracing her most vital parts feeling for the thin skin that convenient her virginity. It was there intact.

 

 

God, I'll...I'll...

 

 

His thoughts had been so forceful, so crazed that it took some time for it to occur to him that his fingertips were fondling the soft warm skin between her legs. Astonished, he froze there lifting his head to indeed assure that it was his own daughter that he was doing this to.

 

 

Suddenly, the room was too large. The wood was too dark, and held to many shadows. The floor was cold beneath his knees and his daughter's tears made perfect little streams down her cheeks.

 

 

God, how she looked like her mother.

 

 

Her eyes were wide, gawking down at her father. Her mouth opened to the perfect O. It took a moment for her to realize that his touch had sent a wave of shivers up her spine and she was appalled.

 

 

Something was transpiring. Something that a father and daughter should never share and they both gazed at each other in silence, questioning what the other thought. Tanaka even had the nerve to blush as he sat there frozen in time feeling her body's moist reaction to his fingers.

 

 

Miyabi was not sure what to do next as she stared down at him. She could feel every thread in her body break. Her mind was in a fuzzy haze and her stomach was in knots. She had never felt like this and the man who had done it had frightened her and left her deadly confused.

 

 

Without a word, he jerked his hand from her as though she were some dangerous disease. Quick and precise, he slapped her face with the opposite hand, turning her head with a jolt. A wave of relief flooded through him once those condemning eyes of hers were not staring at him.

 

 

It was her fault, he decided his fingers shaking with remorse. She had scared him and he merely needed reassurance that she was not as promiscuous as she seemed. It made sense, right?

 

 

Miyabi closed her eyes, refusing to open them. She couldn't look into his face. It was sickening. Was power such a magnificent thing? What had she done? What had she been reduced to?

 

 

He had touched her and made her feel...

 

 

That was not the way it should be. It was sick, twisted, and unexplainable.

 

 

"Don't ever let it happen again," his warning sunk deep into her mind and he rose wiping his hand on the cloth of his yukata, scanning his mind for excuses of why her clothes were so mangled. Why her kimono shifted open beneath her waist? Why the skin of her thigh glared out at him accusingly?

 

 

She was a whore.

 

 

She stared at the darkness behind her own eyelids until the vibrations of her father footsteps shook the floor beside her head as he walked pass her. He had taken his leave of her.

 

 

And she stayed there, unable to move, unable to think. She opened her tear stained eyes training them on the wood of the ceiling, her vision hazy. No attempt was made at fixing herself. In that instance she could not gather enough of what happened to truly realize what she needed to do.

 

 

How did it all occur?

 

 

She had never considered her father crazy, but she was staring to consider herself insane. It made no sense to drive a man to such madness and then derive the fleeting pleasure that she had received.

 

 

Blinking repeatedly in a failed attempt to keep her tears from falling, she made her first move, turning to her side, her short strands of hair tickling the side of her face.

 

 

Visions of her mother raced through her head. She could hear her cries so vividly that she was sure the woman lay behind her unmoving as she had been and sobbing just the same. Miyabi turned quickly hoping to catch sight of what she hoped, finding nothing. It had all been in her head.

 

 

What little comfort she had had been in that woman and she too had cried on the same cold wooden floors, closing her eyes as her father departed leaving her there. And that more than anything scared Miyabi. She had become the mirror image of that woman, so blindly.

 

 

Miyabi closed her eyes in a peaceful confusion as she called out to her softly in hopes that some way she would be the only one that heard from the place she rested her head. "Mother."

 

 

Then she was sleep.

 

 

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

 

 

Miyabi shifted her weight on the wooden panel, absentmindedly expecting her hair to be beneath her. She had not moved since last night and it took its toll. The dull ache caressed the small of her back as she lifted to glare out of the open door. None of her father's servants dare disturbed her as she fell asleep. Some felt she had needed it and others were too afraid of what the lord would do if he found any of them talking to the girl, and deep down she knew there were those that smiled, laughed, and made fun of her as she laid on the cool floor.

 

 

A fresh wind swept through the open door brushing her feet and tickling the exposed thigh her father had left her. Memories of last night flooded her mind and she found herself close to tears.

 

 

Had the servants seen? She wondered quickly and clumsily covering herself. Had it all really happened? Her eyes stared down at the wrinkles in her kimono fabric.

 

 

Maybe it had not taken place at all, she tried to persuade herself, but the slight sting of her cheek spoke differently.

 

 

He had touched her and she was not sure if was her fault or if it was him.

 

 

"Lord Yamato has arrived!" The shouts were unexpected and if Miyabi had been herself she would have jumped to attention, but instead she glanced up breaking her thoughts away from her foolish questioning, become conscious of the heaviness of her eye lids.

 

 

The padding of footsteps drummed over the floors of the outside corridor. She guessed those steps belong to the small girl, that soon appeared before the open door, her hair floating behind her, like a black canvas. It made Miyabi miss her own hair, especially if what she had just heard was true. The lord had appeared, unannounced, and much unwanted.

 

 

The girl stopped at her door and stood with a modest poise, hands before her twisting her fingers together. Her kimono was a plain black one and Miyabi could see that she was not much older than her. They may even have been the same age, but Miyabi had paid her no attention in all her years. When had she come and why did she stare at Miyabi with such admiration?

 

 

She bowed low in her presence, her hair draping gracefully over her shoulder. "Lord Yamato has arrived most unexpectedly, my lady," she stated close to a whisper as the nervous twitch in her fingers ended. "Do you wish me to say something to him?"

 

 

Narrowing her eyes, Miyabi allowed time to take in what the young girl had just told her.

 

 

"My lady?" she questioned lowering her eyes to the kimono that Miyabi wore.

 

 

Her stomach turned as she sprung away from the girl, wishing to switch places with this nobody and become some common girl so that she could escape the confusion that was starting to brew in her head.

 

 

How was she to face her future husband, knowing that another man had touched her and that man was her...

 

 

"Yes," she choked out. "I will make myself presentable." Slowly and carefully, she lifted to her feet. Her body felt like a weight as she glided pass the girl into the halls. They were darker than normal, no candles had been lit and it was nearly empty.

 

 

"My lady," the young girl turned to face her. She had watched Miyabi throughout her life and this was odd behavior, bring to mind the lord's anger. She watched her stroll down the hall and something about her, that spark of life, that simple smile that she would offer was gone. She seemed almost like the dead walking.

 

 

What had occurred between the future lady and her father that had caused such a reaction?

 

 

"Miyabi-san," a familiar voice, being followed by pounding footsteps. They raced towards her from her right side as she reached the ends of the hall. Itsuka face seemed unpleasantly happy and more than bright. "The lord has arrived to take you away."

 

 

This was a common joke for Itsuka every since the marriage had been announced. No one knew for certain when the lord would take home his new bride before or after the wedding. With his list of concubines, Miyabi did not know why he would need to take her at all.

 

 

Forcing the remnants of a smile, she gazed at Itsuka's round face. She could not quite understand why she was so ecstatic to see her lord and at the moment she did not want to take it into consideration.

 

 

Itsuka's smiling face shifted into one with a crease of concern that shadowed Miyabi. "You look as though you have not slept at all," she blurted out. A small part of herself was glad that the lord would see Miyabi at her worst.

 

 

"I just need a small bath and I will be fine." She looked away from her in fear that she would read her expressions and so easily find out what haunted her this morning.

 

 

"Oh," Itsuka's voice trailed off to a mere whisper as she too watched Miyabi's back.

 

 

Wordlessly, she began to walk away without the small hint of a blush as she was use to. She seemed so dazed and heavy as if the world weighted on her shoulders.

 

 

Maybe life had finally found her, Itsuka presumed as a soft tranquil smile crossed her lips.

 

 

Either way, she determined, she would present herself to the lord no matter what.

 

 

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

 

 

Miyabi had spent more time staring at the water of the small pool than she had bathing or soaking. Her skin felt so dirty and revolting from his touch that when did she stepped into the water she found herself rubbing and scraping until her skin was a beautiful shade of red almost to sensitive to her touch.

 

 

It was not until she stepped out of the pool that she realized she had carried nothing to cover with and would have to once again return to the white bedtime kimono that her father had touched her in. Sickened, she lifted it to her body wrapping up in the thin fabric with a vacant in her eyes.

 

 

"It did not happened," she chanted to herself. "It did not happen."

 

 

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

 

 

She had unknowingly haunted him. That night he dreamed about her and what he had done. She looked like her mother, smiled like her mother, even spoke like her at times.

 

 

Tanaka smiled at the Lord before him, greeting him with the respect of a blood son and Lord Yamato greeted him the same. He was only years younger than Tanaka, and still old enough to be Miyabi's father. He lifted his cup of sake to his lips and sipped it elegantly, as he was use to the finer things of life.

 

 

Tanaka shifted his weight. The silence between them was uncomfortable. He had asked of Miyabi and Tanaka had told him the truth. She was becoming most disobedient. She had been caught in the woods with another man and she was punished for it, which would explain the redness of her face.

 

 

Yamato only laughed halfheartedly and stated, "she needs true training."

 

 

As if Tanaka had not tried to train the girl. It was mere curiosity that she had, her mother had told him such before she died. She had told him that she, at one point in her life had been the same. Her father had taught her different and he should do the same.

 

 

'I am only trying to live by your standards,' would remind her and she'd laughed wrapping him in a wary hug.

 

 

'Live for yourself,' she would say.

 

 

She had been perfect and yet he knew that deep down inside she was disheartened. She spent so much time watching him, loving him that he felt somewhere she had gotten lost and he had taken over. Pushing aside everything, he vowed for power anyway he could get it, with the exception of Miyabi's mother, Nagami. She was not to be compromised, never to be compromised, yet she had died of her own freewill, leaving behind her likeness in this daughter of his.

 

 

Nothing had prepared Tanaka to loose his support, his crutch in the end. He was not sure if Miyabi knew the true nature of her mother or if she only saw what she wanted to see, the prefect mother. She hugged her, kissed her, did all the things that he would not, but she hated the reality that she had not been a boy, the one thing that Tanaka wanted most in the world.

 

 

The woman stood there most of the time and watched the child as he beat her and punished her for reasons that he could not recall after the beating was over. She never stood up for her and even pretended to be unavailable in her most times of need. She died with a prang of guilt that she had not been the mother that she should have. In so, she wondered if maybe she created a monster in waiting.

 

 

But Tanaka never spoke a word of it to Miyabi because he also felt a certain guilt. His mother had loved him with all she had and never turned her back on him when he needed her. She had been everything he could ask for and more. Spoiling him, beyond good reason and maybe that was his problem. She was not so easily controlled.

 

 

In actuality, they were neither good parents and he knew it, but she was older now and to be married. Not to mention she carried the likeness of her mother which had started to turn Tanaka's stomach when he looked at her and cause many late night when he thought of her.

 

 

"Miyabi-chan," Yamato smiled lifting his eyes towards the door.

 

 

In the entranceway, Miyabi stood, decorated in a beautiful silk kimono the color of jasmine. The hems traced with ivy leaves and markings she did not understand. Soft traces of makeup stained her face, a light tanned powder covered the dark circles that had formed underneath her eyes, while black coal trace the fine line of her eyelids. On her lips a hint of color the lightest shade of pink. In the eyes of others she was gorgeous, even without her lengths of hair.

 

 

Tanaka's breath was taken back. She was a beautiful image of her mother

 

 

He hated her with a vengeance at first sight. His heart raced, dancing to the beat of a drum and he gazed down at his right hand holding the small cup of sake.

 

 

He had touched her with that hand and it had been...it had been...

 

 

Tanaka did not feel the thin shards of the small goblet neither did he hear the small bells of shattering glass as it crushed between his fingers. He only noticed the daimyo's eyes as they gaze at him, then to the cup, a crease between his brow.

 

 

Slow comprehension took place, as Tanaka lowered his glaze to his hand still gripping the glass with the same tension that had forced it apart. The shards dug deeper into his palm and dawdling blood began to pour from the close fist.

 

 

"Excuse me," Tanaka gathered from his reverie. "I have a few business matters that demand my attention. I am sure that you would like to talk to Miyabi alone." He lifted from his place, the numbness in his hand wearing away.

 

 

"Father, will you be-" Miyabi started to question, her voice soft and withdrawn.

 

 

"I am fine," he spoke sharply, stern towards her and saw her flinch. She remembered last night, he thought. "If you would excuse me," he spoke through clenched teeth, stalking pass her gaining a whiff of the lilac oils she had use to bath.

 

 

Gods, help me.

 

 

Gaining speed once he was released from their inquiring view, he could hear her voice again. Nagami.

 

 

'Gain power any way you see fit. I am behind you,' she continued to whisper to him night after night. She would turn to him and lay her hands on his bare chest. With a voice of an angel, she would whisper, 'She is your child to do with as you wish.'

 

 

Gods, help me.

 

 

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

 

 

Miyabi watched after her father, a slight flush on her cheeks.

 

 

Was he thinking of yesterday? Something that she wanted so desperately to forget. Something that never happened, she repeated her chant in her mind.

 

 

"Miyabi-chan," Lord Yamato's voice came in tall and bold. Unbreakable had been used to describe such a man.

 

 

He stood a foot taller than Miyabi as he drew to his full length.

 

 

Just like the monk, she realized and she once again hated that.

 

 

"Your father has spoken to me, Miyabi-chan," he smiled warmly and rose from his place his samurai armor clinging to his well-developed frame. He seemed so perfect, so untouchable. "Let us take a ride shall we? I have brought with me a new steed."

 

 

His suggestion caught her off guard. He smiled so sweetly and lovingly, holding his hand out for her. A welcomed change from the torment of her father and so she took him up on that offer, placing her hand in his in that same poised manner that she had used with the monk.

 

 

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

 

 

Lord Oda Yamato was power and in a world were power was everything his name was know throughout the Northern providence. No one dared oppose him, lest his mighty blade strike them down. It was believed that he had allied with a demon for his seeming immortality and at times he was a brute of a man, yet that did nothing to diminish his many followers, nor did it lessen the many women that had vowed their loyalty to him.

 

 

He was not a handsome man though he could not be called ugly. His looks were merely average. His eyes dark and narrow, above a ruddy nose, and full lips that could form the thinness line of anger Miyabi had ever seen. Though when pleasantly groomed he could be called handsome. The side of his face had been marked by war, a long gaping scar extended from his ear to the tip of his cheek, another crossed over from his eye to the start of his chin. His hair that he wore in a high tail up top his head extended the length that hers' had once been. If he had been an average man, it would have been a privilege to wed Miyabi.

 

 

But he was not average, Miyabi constituted as she hung her legs over the side of the massive beast that Yamato had deemed a horse. It galloped hard, bouncing her back and forth, but the lord had one hand on the reins and one hand wrapped around Miyabi's thin waist gripping the opposing left hand. Every now and then, she would glance down at his hand as it held hers' and realized how much bigger his was than her. She felt like a little girl around him and she guessed that she must have acted like it as well. 'Miyabi-chan.'

 

 

Had she not grown any since the last time he saw her? The reference seemed so out of place for a future wife.

 

 

"Your hair?" he spoke breaking their silence once her father's home had disappeared on the horizon.

 

 

"Oh," she blushed, embarrassed of her actions, yet again. She reached up to run her lilac colored nails nervously through the strains.

 

 

"What gave you the idea to cut it?" His question was serious and brought a frown to his lips.

 

 

Shifting her sights to the corner of her eye, while gazing at him without turning to face him, she shyly spoke. "I don't know," she lied. She knew why when she stood by that river's edge and she knew now.

 

 

Because I did not want to marry you, she thought wrapping her free arm around her stomach. It was starting to act up again.

 

 

"Your father explained that you had gone out in the night and hacked it off by the river," he told her as if she did not know for herself what she had done.

 

 

His tone had taking on a more shifty expression, one that was not easily read. She turned back measuring their distance away from her home. The building was long gone and she was scared.

 

 

With a sudden vigor, his horse galloped harder, gaining speed through the forest. Lord Yamato narrowed his eyes, focusing on the road with a sudden fierce drive. He released her tiny hand and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist gluing her to him.

 

 

"My lord?" Her words came out gushed and in a panic. She was not seated properly on the saddle for such a speed. "My Lord, I will fall!" She squealed close to his ear. Her heart pounding with fear as she felt her body began to slip from safety.

 

 

"Quite, Miyabi," he growled out, pulling back on the reins of his steed. "Whoa!!!" he directed the beast and it reared back on its hind legs tortured by the bit in its mouth. Giving out a loud neigh, it fell back to the ground calming itself.

 

 

Miyabi shifted her position on the saddle, glancing into the face of her future husband as if she could tell what he was thinking. He was tight lipped and did not seemed impressed by her ability to hold her own on the wild ride. "Do you think of yourself as superior, child?"

 

 

"Uh," she drew back from his face causing her to slip completely from the saddle. In a heap, she collapse to the ground, her beautiful kimono gathering rough grass stains at the knees.

 

 

Purposefully, she did not look up. She did not want to see another man that was to take from her until she could not bear it. Her father was that and now so was he, but she knew that. She knew that when she first laid eyes on him across her father's dinning hall.

 

 

"Do you feel as though you are superior?" he reiterated dropping from the tall horse. With a swift motion, he wrapped the reins on the nearest tree. His horse gave a loud sneeze. "You have not answered my question, girl." His tone was not angry more demanding, like one would demand of a servant.

 

 

She opened her mouth, however no words were spoken. Nothing was there to come out. How do you answer such a question like that without repercussion?

 

 

He was approaching, grass crushing under his feet and Miyabi was once again nothing, but helpless. The closer he got the more her heart pounded. The palms of her hands began to sweat and she could feel her insides turning over.

 

 

"Look at me girl," he ordered stopping before her.

 

 

She continued to stare at his well-polished boots as they dug into the grass.

 

 

"Do you plan to just sit there, Miyabi-chan?" he asked.

 

 

Her eyes rose to meet his, most uncertain. She could see her father standing there. His arms folded over his chest gazing down at her with a look of true disappointment of her actions.

 

 

Lord Yamato, she thought pulling herself from the desolate contemplation of her father.

 

 

"Do you not hear me, girl?" Lord Yamato kneeled before her, gazing into her eyes. Indeed they were blank as if he was not there at all and yet they were frightened and afraid. He did not like that. The void that she carried. If she was to fear him he wanted it in full.

 

 

Fear meant understanding.

 

 

He wrapped his five fingers tightly around her throat, and lifted her as if she were as light as a feather and to him she was. Her eyes met his and he was not sure if she even felt the pain around her throat and so he squeezed tighter and there it was. Her well-painted lips parted gasping for breath. She cringed, involuntarily grabbing for his fingers, clawing at his skin making sharp bleeding cuts.

 

 

He grimaced at that, throwing her back.

 

 

Miyabi groaned falling back on her bottom as she grabbed for something to hold on to.

 

 

"This is not happening to me," she said out loud, praying to wake up soon. To hear, the morning maids calling for her to dress for breakfast. They would have her kimono pressed laying out for her to wear, but when she lifted her eyes to see the gorgeous kimono fabric blowing in the morning breeze she found him standing there, arms still crossed over her chest as he approached.

 

 

He reminded her so much of her father, that it was excruciating to her eyes.

 

 

"He tells me of the man you had in the woods last night." He came within reach of her again and this time she jumped to her feet, her tatami sandals rocking underneath her. "Do you have no sense of decency?!" He was yelling now and she could see the veins pop out of his head.

 

 

Yes, he did look like a demon, she decide though she had not seen enough in her life to truly know, but she was beginning to wonder. She reached out to grab onto the branch of a small tree so that she could balance on the shaky shoes before he struck again.

 

 

"You have not been trained properly," he laughed out loud echoing off the high trees. "This is the only solution to such a problem."

 

 

The small strains about her head fell over into her eyes as he rushed over to her. She was sure that she looked a mess in his eyes, but he liked that look on her. The look of terror, of desperation, helplessness.

 

 

Pounding his footsteps on the fallen leaves, he closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders. He lifted her so close to his face that she could feel his hot breath tickle her cheeks. It smelled of the chamomile tea that he sipped at her home.

 

 

"I will not have you tainting my name girl," he barked at her leaving droplets of spit in on her nose. He slammed her on her feet and gripped the obi of her kimono. "I will train you properly."

 

 

Properly? She questioned. Staring at him, he resembled a mad man.

 

 

Is this what a demon possessed man is?

 

 

With that she began to spin her obi coming undone, looking like non other than a long ribbon in his hands.

 

 

"You will learn from me," he spoke with a vicious hand, grabbing the silk fabrics around her neck yanking and pulling the beautiful material until it tore like paper between his hands.

 

 

"No!" the word escape her throat as she realized that he was trying to undress her, leaving her vulnerable to him and any other in the woods. She grabbed at her fabric yanking it from his grasp ripping it more, but leaving enough for her to cover herself. Even the kimono underneath had started to tear under the friction.

 

 

Now it was Yamato that drew away. Shocked that the young girl had it in her. He was stronger and more dominant than she so what gave her the right to oppose him and his rule? Had she gone mad?

 

 

She could see it. He was lost in what she had done and she knew to gain her escape before he gathered himself. Turning, she threw off the sandals as they were hindering her from her escape. She would find her way home she did not need him. Or maybe she would not, maybe she would just run until she could not run anymore. Either way he would have to catch her first.

 

 

She stretched her legs further than she ever could, gaining only a little distance between them.

 

 

"Miyabi!" he roared behind her easily closing the gap that she had created.

 

 

She did not see him as she crashed to the ground, feeling the heavy weight up top her. With the force that was meant for a man, Yamato turned her to face him as he straddled her. He placed his full weight on her pushing her into the ground.

 

"You are..." he spoke grabbing for her kimono finding pieces here and there, between her small fist as they fought back furiously. If he had known the girl was such a fighter he would have taken precautions. She was not the first and she would not be last.

 

 

Deciding on a better course of action, he went after her hands gripping her wrist slamming them of the ground above her head. "You lost your place, Miyabi," he grunted leaning close to her face.

 

 

If she could not fight with her hands she would not give him the satisfaction of doing the same things her father had done.

 

 

"Noooooooo!!!" she screamed from the depths of her lungs kicking her feet and turning her head.

 

 

He only stared at her, a smirk crossed his face. "Scream if you must. No one is coming for you, Miyabi." Locking her wrist in one of his massive hands, he began to rip and tear away her clothing, until he saw her flesh. A vision underneath her kimono.

 

 

He calmed his hasty breaths at the sight of her blushing skin. No, that was not why he had brought her out here. He could wait. With his line of concubines, he would have his pick when he returned. Gazing back to her closed eyes, he saw those crystal lit tears dance down her cheeks.

 

 

That had been what he was waiting for. Tears meant defeat. She was breaking down.

 

 

He lend close to her ear, pressing her bare skin against the cold metal of the armor he wore. She laid still waiting for him to do something more. With a hushed tone, he smiled pressing his lips to her cheek in a bittersweet kiss. "I win. I always win."

 

 

Her eyes shot open staring at the roof of the forest, the intertwining branches that sheltered them. Would he force her to bear everything to him? Right here on the forest floor?

 

 

How did I do this? She cried starting those same sobs that she had with her father.

 

 

"Return to your home," he told her lifting his weight off of the young girl, the shreds of fabric tangled in his fingers. "I will be waiting. If you do not return..."

 

 

He turned his back to her straightening himself, following the trail that they had run.

 

 

"I will find you. Be it alone or with my men and then I will kill you with my bare hands," his warning was solid and he was known for his word, be it right or wrong, easy or hard to bare.

 

 

She knew he would find her and he would kill her.

 

 

She turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. "You can not just leave me here!" she cried out pleading with the lord. Reaching out to him, she hoped for pity. Hoped he would wait for her in the least.

 

 

He was beyond that point and had promised to let her soak in the responsibility of what she was doing. It was necessary for her to become what he wanted her to be. Besides that he liked that desperation on her face, he loved the smell of her fear, the panic in her voice. It was intoxicating.

 

 

"Find your way back Miyabi or" he told her heaving his weight over the saddle of his horse. "I will kill you. I promise."

 

 

Miyabi watched him go sobbing into the dirt, her body exposed to any passerby. Had her father condone his behavior? Did he encourage it?

 

 

In that moment, she realized how defeated she was. She could do nothing even if she wanted to and she took in the truth as if it were written in stone. No would come to help, no one would truly save any innocence about her. She was alone in this world as she was in those woods, laying bare to the world.

 

 

What had he and the lord spoken of as she readied herself for this? He knew, she decided. He knew and he did not care.

 

 

Her snivels had turned into nothing the more than quite tears as she stared at the skyline that peeked through the mangled branches. Bits of chilly wind poked at her skin.

 

 

Little by little, she could feel herself falling apart, taking in what had just happened. She was once again too afraid to run away and foolish enough to stay. Where would she go if she did decide to flee?

 

 

It would disgrace the Lord. The thought of a woman racing away from her groom would disgrace any man and a lord even. She would be asking for death.

 

 

There were things worst than death, she had been told, but most unsure of them. There were things that she loath, but still she wanted life. Nothing compared to it and even when she had caused disruption, she had always learned, experienced, and grew. Was that why she hung on so?

 

 

With the confusion left from a broken heart, she decided. Listening to the crunch of leaves, she rolled over, making careful precautions to keep her body from brushing against the dirty grounds. A smirk crossed her lips through her tears at her pettiness.

 

 

The time to be unsoiled had passed. The lord had seen her and so would every other man that walked through this forest during the day. A little dirt was nothing at this point, but an insignificant stain.

 

 

Lifting the weight of the world upon her shoulders, she began to drag her feet back down the familiar trail home.

 

 

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

 

 

 

Words that may help

 

 

Oda- order

 

 

Yamato- Ancient Japan

 

 

 

 

Disclaimer-

 

 

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