InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Encounter ( Chapter 9 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Thanks for the review Briana D: I agree Tenrai should be groping lots of other women, but he just needs space and opportunity. Your advice is really great. I will eventually go back over and correct soon. I love to write and improving makes it worth it. So I look forward to all the advice I can use. Thanks. Keeping reading. Oh, yeah. Sorry, it’s so late. I really do want to get better at updating.


Grassy plains gently bent into one another while sloping hills formed small streams, and they one by one fell into deep valleys adorned with autumn flowers. These were Lord Yamato’s lands.


It was not hard to tell with the way his arrogance seemed to swell, but he was a man that had fought, schemed, and conned to get everything that he had and he deserved it all. Staring at the vast hills and valleys before him, made him proud of what he had done.


His palace was towards the west amidst a militant town consisting of his men and their families. For the protection of his property, he had a wall built encasing the town itself and the people could not have been more thankful for a lord such as him. Strict and callous, he was their savior. A man who protected his lands and everything that they held.


With a word from his lips and a lift of his sword, the walls parted to let the Warlord through. The caravan trailed behind him and bystanders bought into the curiosity, watching the foreign carriage trail their lord. Quite words were shared between them, speculating who it could be.


Miyabi stayed hidden along with her servants. Yamato had ordered them to remain unseen. He wanted her polished and poised when she made her introduction to her new court. Yet she could not help the interest that caused her to stir uncomfortably in her seat. She would gaze from Itsuka to Gekido and back again, and the two women were no more at ease.


At the halt of the convoy, she nearly leaped from her seat. She shifted regaining what little composer she could muster. To her the lord’s world was unrealistic, even more so when she stepped from the carriage onto the solid ground of cobblestone. His home towered before her.


Miraculous was the word use to describe it. It’s colossal form intricate with details from hands of diligent men. It was not hard to tell it must have taken years to create such a work of art.


Three wings only separated by inches of courtyard stretched to the sky above. The place she had only dreamed of, the white walls seemed as though impenetrable, for the safety of his people they were enforced from the inside. No more was the reeded roof tops that she had come to know. Now, they were gently slopping, each shingle perfectly fit into place forming picturesque patterns.


Four floors in the first tower and that was the tower in which she was to dwell. The second tower only held two floors. The servant quarters on top and a few of the soldiers nestled at the bottom. The third was merely a store house that held the year’s worth of rice and barley.


All of this rested in the courtyards. Beautifully decorated in autumn blooming flowers, the trees were trimmed, and the grass was evenly cut. Cobblestone walkways danced configurations from the front gate to the doors of her new home; lest there be anyone who maimed the grass, but the gardener.


And Miyabi had not felt more alone. Around her servants decorated beyond what she had become accustom to, began hustling and at the words of Yamato, she was wisped away to wash and change. Gekido and Itsuka vanished in the turmoil.


She bathed in tubs of ivory and dressed in a wardrobe room that held kimonos made out of some of the loveliest material that ever touched her skin. Servant women even combed her hair into a bun on the back of her head lacing it with ribbons and combs of jade. Those same women doused her face in powder, decorated her eyes and colored her lips in red. And when they were done, they marveled at their own work.


With small delightful little steps they lead her down the wide isles of corridors where servants dusted. Each halting to lay eyes on their new and improved lady-to-be. In all the attention, Miyabi felt a miserable loneliness and when she stopped before the doors of Yamato’s whereabouts, she would have ran the distance home, but the doors parted before she could gain her footing.


Books hung from shelves, maps spread about the floor, it looked like a study of some sort, but it was not nearly as neat as her father’s nor was it as small. Lord Yamato stood at the corner window gazing out into his lands, his mind shifting between the woman who had just entered his palace and the woman that would become his wife.


At fist sight of her, he was honestly surprised. She had cleaned up quiet nicely. Her look was as graceful as the woman they had met in the road and just as divine. Even the unruly head of hair fell into place.


His servants had done their jobs and done it well. Nothing was more attractive than a lady of royalty and for a moment she exhumed that. Until, she tucked her bottom lip into between her teeth and bit down. She was Miyabi-Chan all over again.


He frowned, the appreciative glare gone from his eyes and he wondered how long he would have to deal with her childish ways before he could change her. The next years of her life, he had them planned as easily as putting ink to paper and when it was all over, he would have the woman in which he wanted or to the streets with her.


In neat, bold characters, he had summoned the unsurpassed teachers. Those that could train her and cultivate her into the woman that he wanted without fail. He needed results with Miyabi and while she still had a will of her own, she was useless.


Tenrai had no interest in the eastern temple. If it was up to him he would simply forget where it was. At least, that was what he would tell those of the southern temple when he arrived days early than expected.


However one of the best cities Tenrai had ever seen rested only a short distance from the eastern temple and how he could deter Mushin had not, yet crossed his mind. The soldiers there got drunk on some of the best sake in the lands and had sex with some of the best looking women. Tenrai recognized a few by name and they in return recognized him. He had gotten food, drink, and other trivial things that they gave freely relying on the lord they served to support them and their habits.


He seemed to treat them as well as any other and they served him with ease.


Maybe, I should join his samurai, he amused himself. He knew that there was no way he could find comfort in the consistent killing of his fellow man for the love of a lord that had no real interest in him. Probably would not even bother to learn his name.


But what a good provider he was.


Shuffling over the fallen leaves and rocks beneath his feet, he contemplated a number of options, none which made sense to do, but everything was worth a shot. Thus, he went with the most practical action. Turning to Mushin, who had begun the lag behind, thoughts of Itsuka cluttering his mind.


He finally looked serene. After a moment or two of being sober he had begun to notice Tenrai’s missing kesa again and voicing his concern, the vein about his forehead bulged all the way to the back of his head.


But while everything seemed silent Tenrai wanted to take his chances and push his luck.


A loud sign escaped his throat and with a melodramatic gesture, he stretched his hands to the sky, “I feel a little tired, my friend. It may be of benefit if we stopped and rested a moment before going to the temple. I wish to look my best for the priest there.” It was not a blatant lie, but an over exaggerate truth.


Mushin broke from his reverie of the lovely woman he adored and glared at Tenrai with a questioning lift of his brow. He was not dim. Tenrai wanted to stop in the city and fool around, which was most unreasonable considering that they were only a mile and a half away from their destination. There they could rest and have drinks, and fellowship with their counterparts.


Then again what was it to enjoy their time, besides one more day would make none the difference? They were days early in their travels. Though why give Tenrai the pleasure. After all, Mushin was not finish with the matter of the missing kesa.


“We can make it to the temple.” Mushin turned his head not to meet the eye of a highly dissatisfied man.


Disappointed, but optimistic, Tenrai was not one to easily give up. “Hum. “


If not for the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Tenrai would have continued, but the bend in his black garb silenced him. His right index finger started to twitch like it had many times before.


Something was in the air. And it seemed to beckon him, smothering him. His back straightened, standing the man to his full length, his eyes scrutinizing the area with a careful glare. He had felt this way before.


Waves and waves of nausea built up in his chest unsteadying his feet. It was a miserable feeling, but Tenrai had become use to the stir in his belly. The first time he ever felt it, he could not keep his supper from rising in his throat, but years of training had made him proficient in these sorts of things. His teachers had made sure of it.


A loosely hanging strand of hair tickled the bridge of his nose as the slow incoming breeze picked up whispering words all about the forest floors. Foreboding and direct, Tenrai listened to the hallow sound it made, the quite sinful way it swept the ground, building about his feet.


Mushin could only stare at Tenrai. He remembered that look, the stiffness in the man’s back. Tenrai sensed something in the distance. He , on the other hand, had not trained himself to feel such things and had no care in them. He did not plan to be a monk forever after all.


As for Tenrai the thick and tainted air was troubling. Something about it was familiar, yet something he could not place. The miasma that cloaked the grounds of the forest brought back hurtful, angry thoughts that he had worked so hard to push away.


Before he could wrap his mind around the situation, Tenrai had begun a stride through the trees. Everything about this feeling was malevolent, but proverbial.


So engulfed in feelings, he failed to hear Mushin’s calls or curses when he realized that he was not catching his friend without a long stride. The chubby little man was not cut out for this and he had no bones about letting Tenrai know. The man had become as fast as the demons that were sure to emerge as soon as the sun touched the top of the mountainside.


“Tenrai, damn it!” he called, but it was a useless, irritating effort that Mushin eventual gave up on. His robe had begun to get in his way and he had no intention of falling in the dirt for a man who had left him without as much as a word.


Mushin halted and stared after his friend. There was no catching him and it did not bother the older man at all. They would meet up again. After all, he was the only one that could fix the wind tunnel. Straightening his resolve, Mushin turned on his heels, returning to the path that would lead to the temple.


It was the burning in his lungs that forced him to take in extra air; the ache in his ankle begging him to stop that slowed him down and still he was not slow enough for a normal human to catch him. Even the branches and shrubbery tapping his cheeks could not stop him.


What he felt and what he knew had started to come together piece by piece. Somewhere close by, he was waiting, lurking around a corner. Tenrai could catch, kill him, and live.


The very thought quickened the beat of his heart.


Naraku. He was out there. He had to be.


“Just has to,” Tenrai repeated to himself.


He had learned time and time again that there were no guarantees that once the source of this feel was found it would be Naraku. The demon had been so evasive that his very existence was in question. But god the hope…


The hope kept his feet pounding the ground, made the aches in his legs nothing, and made his past trails and errors have value. So, he forced his body to move, no longer the youngster he use to be in his teens.


It was close now. So close that the sensations were becoming overwhelming, making him feel as though it were his first time rummaging for a demon.


“Do not stop,” he begged his legs as they threatened to give way beneath him. He was not sure how far he had ran, or how off course he was, but he knew that he was getting closer to what he wanted.


A new wave of determination hit him as visions of a small fort town came into distance and from that town the miasma expelled, bleeding from the front gates. And the source lay in the arms of a woman.


Her back was turned to him as she stood before the wooden entrance of the village. A smile grazed her face and she spoke quiet words to her child, no longer the calm being he had been for the remainder of her walk. Fully uniformed Samurai stood at her side. Each held perplexed looks on their faces and swords at their sides.


They were the first to see the monk coming over the hill with speed they had never witnessed. They questioned mutely if he was a demon as they shoved the woman and her child through the gates for protection.


In her arms, the child was going fanatic. The approaching monk frayed on its nerves and the demon inside was in panic.


The last thing that he desired was to show what he was. To reveal himself he would need to emerge from the child and that in return would kill the baby. At the moment, they shared a life and it was that life that allowed him to maintain in these weak times.


There was only one way out of all off this and she stood clutching him between her forearms and her chest, still whispering calming words.


Tenrai nearly ran through the guards and if they had not been bolted down by samurai uniforms they would not have been able to stand up to him. For he was like a mad man, with no knowledge of how he look, nor with a care.


In the velocity of wind, he had lost the band that held his hair and it draped uncombed, caging his handsome face. His robes had been ripped on tree limbs and shrubbery that he failed to notice. Still, his mind was sharp and alerted to his surrounding. His eyes immediately went to the woman and her child.


The wail that the baby gave grinded on his nerves as though someone had taken an axe to his head. It was abnormal and if the humans before him had listened, they too would have admitted it. Tenrai had taken their attention and they stood before him in an instant blocking his way into their military fort.


“You there,” The tallest of them dared to speak first. He took a step forward, hand on his sword for a warning. Tenrai did not perceive it as such and wanted not to be stopped. Irrationally, he pushed pass the man, with a force that the soldier had not been ready for, knocking him to the ground. And as though the other soldier were paper, he was easily shoved from his post and out of Tenrai’s way.


“That baby,” he spoke to no one particularly. His eyes narrowed at the woman, questioning what she was to possess such a child. The thing radiated heavy miasma, thick and damn near unbreathable from the blanket. Could she not see it, feel it?


It was gradually becoming nauseating with each breath. Tenrai lifted the wide sleeve of his robe covering his nose, but only for a momentary relief. “Ma’am, your baby.”


Lady Kagewaki turned up her nose in disrespect. In the back of her mind, she could hear the words of the priest. ‘The boy holds a demon in him.’


If the people of the fortress were to find out then he would be lose his life, and this man, this nobody had come out of the nowhere pointing and accusing her child, putting him to death. She would not have it.


“He is after my child!” She screamed to the top of her lungs knowing that once the soldiers heard her words they would give their very lives to protect their prince. Her loving husband would have it no other way.


Tenrai gazed at her through angered eyes.


She knew that she carried a demon in her arms.


He had not even told her why he had repeated those words to her and yet she screamed for help before he could explain. It was maddening.


“It is a demon!” he called to her taking a malicious approach towards her, a hand buried inside his sleeves. His fingers had started moving back and forth on the ofuda paper, eager to place it on the infants head and clean him of this impending danger. “You know, don’t you?”


The question shot through her with the precision of an arrow. ‘You know, don’t you?’ She tightened her grip on the child, turning her body to place him out of harms way, but it wasn’t enough to stop Tenrai as he stood before her.


He reached out for the child with a trembling hand. Only fingertips were able to graze the tip of the child’s forehead before he pulled away taking the blanket away from its face. His proof was there. The child glared at him with those same menacing red eyes rooted in his memory. They stared at him through the opening of the forest, the morning he stood alone beside the carter where his father had once been.


An infant was all he was, Tenrai forced himself to come to the realization that his father had been taken down by something that could possess a child. Deplorable.


“Possessed,” he whispered on his breath before the collar on his kosode tighten around his neck forcing him back, away from his prey, and to the ground.


“You will die before laying a hand on the heir of our lord.” The voice was that of the soldier at the gate. He had regained what it took to confront Tenrai and now he was more than ready. His sword had been drawn. He held it loosely in his right hand and had jerk Tenrai’s collar with the other.


Tenrai lifted himself from the ground. His fortitude was set and he refused to be stopped from his goal. Naraku lay only inches away and the world wanted to stop him. “The child is a demon. “ Steadying himself on his feet, he stared ahead where soldiers had started to appear before the woman blocking his way once again. Each held weapons of protection before them.


“Will you people not see what you protect?!” This was outrageous! Tenrai wanted to charge all of them but with no weapons, his only source was the wind tunnel and he had made a promise to his father and the memory of his mother. Never would he suck humans into the abyss. Most humans after all, were clueless in their actions.


Yet after coming so close, he would not willing give up.


Naraku grew anxious. The child needed a diversion, something that could catch them all off guard. So, that he could escape. From the tip of his blanket he could see the monk, Miyatsu. Foolish of him to come here. But he had not come without doing his damage. The brush of his fingertips over the baby’s forehead burned to high hell. So he screamed in the woman’s arms as she ran for cover through the courtyard of the fortress and into the arms of a lord that stood waiting.


“What is it, my love?” His voice was easy like the drip of honey and the child decided he immediately liked him. The demon inside did not.


“He is after the prince!” She huffed pressing the child into the armor of a man who had fought his fare share of war.


Lord Kagewaki gripped the hilt of his sword, taking no time to examine his child for the first time. He was a man who had learned to throw his power around. He sipped hot tea and watched his men fight a dying war, but he was a tactical man and had proven himself many times over when in command.


Just as any other lord, he hated to be tested, his power questioned and thus he would not be at peace until the man that hunted his son was dead.


With heavy strides, he approached the scene, giving a watchful eye to the man who chattered vigorously to the on looking soldiers. Crazed was what he was. Drawing a thin curved blade from his side, his stride turned into a light jog, picking up speed. He wanted his head for posing a threat to his family; highly inexcusable.


Tenrai felt the danger before it hit and with the grace of a gazelle he ducked and leaped away from the streak of sliver that danced above his head. When he turned to face his enemy, he was not at all surprised at the display of highly expensive armor decorating his chest.


A lord, he acknowledged in his head before he took notice of the man‘s fight stands.


The lord was beyond listening to his reasoning.


“You pose a threat to the safety of my son,” he announced, giving sentence to the younger man.


“Your son poses a threat to you and your fortress,” Tenrai corrected him lifting a brow, readying himself for the attack that was sure to come.


“I am Lord Kagewaki and I sentence you to death for treason on my lands.”


Tenrai stared idly at the Lord. The tall slender man before him was authority, but Tenrai frowned and disregarded him. “I am Miyatsu, a monk. Your lands are tainted.”


The corners of Lord Kagewaki’s mouth turned upward no concerned in Tenrai’s position. “What proof do you have of your so-called-monk status? Where is your kesa? Your staff?” His taut was nothing, but informative.


Tenrai taking his words into consideration had a slow dawning of how plain and crazed he must look to the men. After all, he was just a man in a black tattered robe and strains of hair about his head, raving in the middle of a fortress courtyard.


“Prepare, Miyatsu,” the lord spit his name like venom from his lips. “I will take you from this life and may you find peace in the next.” And with the sound of the heavy boots on the stone ground, he charged the perceived threat.


If not for the sickening miasma, Tenrai would have easily pushed through the lord with skillful moves, but all he could do was maneuver himself to avoid quick thrust and heavy slashes with an unsteady blade. The lord was not that skillful in battle. His slender frame did not carry enough power to uphold a true battle with a man of Tenrai’s statue and with a mishap swinging of his sword it was becoming obvious as Tenrai ducked his head, watching the tip of the man’s blade cut through air.


How he had become the power that he was was at question as Tenrai lowered himself in one quick motion. Proficiently, he swipe his legs underneath the man, connecting and taking him to the ground. “I wish not to fight you.” His words were genuine and if the man had stopped to think them over, he would have seen that his fight was not with Tenrai.


Soldiers stood all about them watching and waiting for the moment to strike when Tenrai laid a blow to their lord, for it was he who supplied them with what they needed. None to bright enough to realize that the true source of his influence stood about watching the impending fight.


Tenrai stood. His eyes gazing from the man to the last place he had seen that woman. With a slow and steady voice he called out to him, “Naraku!” His shouts echoed off the high walls of the fortress and was heard by its intended ear.


Irritating was what he was and Naraku shivered in the woman’s arms.


If only the burning could stop.


His forehead was on fire and he had no way of healing it without his true nature revealing itself to the woman. He was sure from her delicate disposition that she would not be able to handle what she held and protected so dear and it was that protection that helped him survived. His last battle had not been a success and this one would not be as well.


The monk was to risky a prospect at the moment. He had become too powerful. From his brush to the boy’s forehead, the demon knew that the man was most formidable. His powers had increased dramatically from what they were years ago, when he gazed through the brush at the small crying thing. And it was to be expected that he’d hone his skills over time.


Was he not doomed to die like the one before him? And if Naraku could help it the next generation would die just the same. Be that as it may, he still needed to heal and the time of recombustion was coming, the occasion when he would rest and grow stronger. The miasma had already started to attract demons and monsters of all kind to this place and they would eventually destroy what Kagewaki had built. The family then would be force to move on.


All the better for the demon. He did not like these lands. They radiated thickly with wards, spells put out to stop his kind, delaying his heal process.


Slowly and cautiously, he closed his eyes burying his head in the chest of the woman that borne the body he had taken. The monk’s aura dim as the woman huddled into the palace walls.


Humans were certainly foolish.


Tenrai was swift, easy with his movements unlike the sword that rattled the ground when swung.


The imprudent man refused to stop his tirade and Tenrai refused to be taken down. It was too risky when Naraku lay only inches away.


It was the shake in the ground that had gathered the attention of the soldiers and the wails from above that stopped the swinging of the sword.


Tenrai felt queasy as he gaze up towards the sound. A sickening cry erupted at the sight of above. The sky had turned to black darkened by shadows of foreboding doom. Tenrai could feel them, harsh on his nerves and his right hand tingled at the sight.


Masses of hungry fiends sailed from the sky showering the ground with a mist thick enough for the eyes of regular humans. Shocked cries and horrified screams erupted the night sky as gangly figures touched the ground. Some covered in slim, with bodies contorted in odd positions, teeth that glisten a rotten color yellow and green. Wailing war cries of their own, they attack the closes things to them, soldiers, women, children, and even themselves.


They covered the ground thriving in the miasma that had begun to choke villagers that cowered and ran in horror.


Tenrai swallowed his disgust at the sight before him, gripping his right wrist in anguish. His fingers were throbbing. He would have to save the exact people who wanted to murder him for treason.


“Save the lord,” the words were said and soldiers laid their lives before them as they huddled around the unskilled man and Tenrai did not know if he was revolted from the demons or the fact that women and children where left in the open. They had begun to make trails for the open palace doors and others huddled in the far corner of the courtyard, whispering prayers between their lips.


A lord with no regard to his people. It was unbearable to watch.


In any case, Tenrai made it his sacred duty to protect the women that had decided to huddle in the corner of the courtyard at the far end. Quickly thinking, he jerked the sword from the hand of a samurai protecting the lord and raced with a vengeance that only he could mustered.


Swinging and cutting at small demons pouncing, daring to get in his way. Their tiny bodies spilling out thick pools of blood on the ground as they bent and broke in half at the tip of Tenrai‘s new blade.


If he was quick enough, it was possible for him to get to Naraku.


A smile of satisfaction had started to turn the corners of his mouth. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together better than he had hoped for. He knew that Naraku had summoned these demons. The haze of his aura was retched and undeniable. But no matter how malevolent it was, Tenrai was freed from his sentence as Lord Kagewaki was now sheltered from harm by his men.


The foul miasma had started to sweep the floors of the courtyard and Tenrai had to cover his nose, sensitive of the poison it held, but he was trained and with his competent and skillful eye, he noticed three. Three women that he would consider beauties awaiting his help and what a waste it was to allow them to be eaten by such filthy creatures.


Evil indeed, he thought and could not help the small smile that sheltered his lips. He sounded like Mushin.


Then he would go after Naraku. Yes, that was the plan. So simple to lay out and, yet so difficult to follow.


The huddle of women only closed in tighter when he approached, standing before them like a statuette figure to take on the approaching demons. With a scrutinizing eye, he surveyed his surroundings. All the humans had found places in the corners of the yard; even the lord had a special corner of his own, sheltered by soldiers.


Gaining accurate footing, Tenrai could feel his fingers twitch as though they had a mind of their own. The thought of having to remove the cloth was bothering him again as it had before.


Ridiculous, he thought of himself, the sword slipping from his fingers. As many times as he had used the weapon, he should have been use to it and everything it entails. But that was not the case and when he lifted his right hand towards the sky, weak knees buckled underneath him.


“Come on, damn it!” he shouted in frustration, forcing steady the looseness in his knees. He’d be damned if he would allow himself to fall right here and now.


He swallowed hard urging his mind to let go of the heavy burden as he jerked the beads with his left hand. The wind, lifting the fabric from the long unending hole in his right hand, also swept free the strains of hair from his face in a gentle breeze.


Narrowing his eyes against the current, he watched the large mass before him, twisting and turning. He wished to cover his ears as the sound of cracking and howls echoed through the air. It was agonizing and yet the people about him had begun to watch in awe. Lord Kagewaki had even cleared a hole to peek out at the man that was saving a village that he could not.


The surge of jealousy that turned his face green was visible, momentarily. Who was this nothing of a man?


The large mass before Tenrai had shrunk, disappearing in the palm of his hand. Wave after wave of demons howled out in pain, as they were helpless to stop their own pending doom.


And soon the courtyard was clear and still though the event had never taken place. Tenrai stood alone.


Lord Kagewaki emerged from the center of his men, a frown on his face and sword in hand. A scowl complemented his features when he made a clear, straight path to the nothing of a man in front of him.


How he had opened his hand and rid Kagewaki’s lands was astounding. A miracle, that’s what the man had been. And he should have all the praise for saving the lord’s people and possessions. They should have draped him in gold and given him rest for the evening. A grateful lord would have offered him that and more.


Kagewaki was not that lord. His angry was borderline rage. In his eyes the man had some audacity to come and attack his son and wife. Then save his people with the lift of his hand. He had no pity and no appreciation for his acts. Gratification would come from the dismissal of the man or dismembering of him. Whichever came first.


Tenrai’s body kneeled to prevent him from crashing to the soil beneath his feet. His feebleness had fast become overwhelming and he needed a moment to gather his tenacity. Somewhere Naraku was lurking and from wherever he was Tenrai knew he was watching.


The throbbing in his hand had started to send stinging pains through his forearm and he clinched it to his chest, unsure if he would be able to continue his pursuit. The slow breeze that swept his hair from his face brought with it the realization that Naraku’s aura had ceased to be. The only miasma that covered the ground was an after glow of demons.


“Damn it,” he whispered to himself tightening his right fist against the pain. Forcefully, he lifted to his feet in one steady motion, squinting his eyes at his surrounding, now calm and silent. That peace only interrupted by the lord’s footsteps approaching.


Detesting the thought of being caught off guard, Tenrai strained his mind to focus the blurriness before his eyes.


“Do you still wish to attack my son?” Those were his first words. Lord Kagewaki straightened his back noticing the way Tenrai gazed at his palace walls. The one story building stretch gallantly over acres of land. If this man made a move, it was no guarantee that he would find his child before the Lord’s men could strike him down.


Naraku was no longer there. It was the only explanation that made any sense. There was no way a demon could mask his presence to this degree. Where the creature had gone boggled Tenrai as he stood there tuning in and out of his surrounding. The demons he had taken into his palm had been more than he expected and gradually they had begun to take effect.


He was almost out done.


The atmosphere tensed instantly when Tenrai turned to his attention to Kagewaki. He drew a picture of the man in his mind. His gangly frame visible despite his armor, his hair cut back from his face, starting his hairline about the center of his head; beady eyes, a thin brow and cheekbones that cut sharply into his altered mane. He was almost sickly looking and it did nothing for his weak stand.


“No,” Tenrai leveled his eyes. There was no point in pursuing his attack any further. These people were simple minded and nothing their Lord could do was wrong. For men to give up their lives for such a man was repulsive and Tenrai wanted not to be in their company without good reason.


And his reason had just disappeared into thin air.


“I wish not to see your face in my lands again,” Kagewaki spoke dignified as if he had not just coward behind his men. Honestly, he wished he could cut the man down where he stood for more than just the threat he posed to his son, but how would it all look when the man who had just saved his village laid face down in the dirt, dead by his hands.


Tenrai, not one to mince words, gritted his teeth scanning the world around for one last clue to Naraku. Nothing, but the villagers standing and watching with wide eyes and baited breaths. His presences made them uneasy, even the three that he had found save worthy. They still huddle together as if the attack was not over.


Without a word, the lone hero turned leaving the repugnant village to its Lord.


Naraku was laughing inside. The catacombs below the palace had worked out perfectly. The dark and musty area was just what he needed.


The woman before him had kneeled in a corner, her body limp and her eyes closed. She would occasionally whisper for Kagewaki Hitomi, but he could not be reached at the moment. Her attendants had fallen unconscious a few yards back, but Naraku made certain to let the woman make it deeper into the maze of tunnels before he released a massive amount of poison to lay the Lady Kagewaki to rest.


His body had begun to wither away, almost before the woman had passed out before him. Now he lay amidst fragments of himself. The only thing remotely recognizable about the baby was his head which mounted up top a pile of slithering creatures that looked no more than skeletons of snakes. They scathed each other, engaging in small bouts for power.


With eager eyes, Naraku watched. For the one that would win would be the one that he kept. It was not a complicated process, but a thriving one. When he had the winner it would make his body stronger, his power would increase, and his abilities would grow.


Perfect, he smiled to himself and on the face of a baby, it was sorely out of place. As for the Miyatsu…


He had no intention on allowing the monk to find him again. For time itself would take care of him.


The forest was starting to whisper night through its branches and small howls could be heard. Tenrai had found the path to the eastern temple hours ago and followed it with a slow lead. His mind was such an obscure of thoughts, he had to convinced himself that he had seen the face of Naraku. He had been right, so right that the monster did exist and like the noonday sun he also disappeared.


His tattered robe, and mangled hair danced in the coming breeze. His knees were no longer able to respond to his constant begging and he was too dazed to continue pleading. So his steps staggered from time to time.


He played the scenario in his head over and over again, looking for things he could have done differently, things he could have said and didn’t.


Words muttered from his lips out in the open for passing travels to hear, but none were on the road as night started to fall. He knew that depression was not an option in this situation, not if he ever hope to find peace, a family, a home.


But discouragement was a tricky feeling and he was falling deeper and deeper within the dark place that Mushin warned about. What was he to honestly do if he could not find the demon again? What was he to do if he stood before his death with only days to count until the hole completely opened to engulf him?


“So damn close,” he mumbled the words, watching the twitch in his right fingers. His hand was starting to have regular spasms and that was not good. Mushin was nowhere around and with the massive amount of demons he had just taken in, it had to have stretched the hole. Hopefully, it was not beyond repair.


The slow and steady drain of his spirit continued to tremble his knees and his steps. If he had not been so dazed he would have felt the water crystals that had started to make trails down his cheeks.


How much of this could a man take? When the things that he had so treasured as a child were disappearing behind the tunnel in his right hand.


How long would it take? How long before he found Naraku again? He had no intention of giving up, but he needed a long break. Some time for his mind to recuperate, gather his thoughts and become stronger than he was now.


And still he had to persuade himself that his time was not wasted. It would help for him to become stronger. Maybe in becoming more than he was now, he could find Naraku even when he masked his aura.


Yes, it was possible. Possible for the man to obtain strength and take down that bastard of a demon and live.


“Yes, I want that,” he rambled on with barely a parting of his lips. Even as a monk he wanted to live a happy life. He was good enough for that.


His footsteps had taken him up a small hill and on the horizon the Eastern Buddha Monastery smiled down at him. The walls were made of fine wood and stretched along the grass from one end of the hill to the next. A statue of Buddha sat on the left side of the door, rounded and smiling with ease at oncoming travelers. His brass belly glistened remnants of the noonday sun on the grass path leading up to the door, welcoming the monk to rest.


Next to the statue, another round figure waited, staff in hand. Mushin.


Tenrai wanted to smile, but the emotion was lost. Instead, his mouth twisted awkwardly in a worthless attempt and he let it fall, figuring it useless.


The small city nearby meant nothing, now. He only wanted to rest, to breath without the thoughts of Naraku and the events that had just occurred.


“Tenrai…” Mushin’s calls cut short as the chubby man trampled through the grass. He held his small staff at an angle and his robe was newly made.


As he drew closer to the man, he could easily make out his tattered garment, his mangled hair, but more than that he knew a defeated man when he saw one.


“What happened to you?” He offered the wooden pole to the weary man for him to lean on.


“I saw him, Mushin,” Tenrai whispered gripping the staff and nearly falling over it. “I need to train. I need to get better.” He lifted his legs nearly dragging them over the terrain.


Mushin stared at his friend calculating the damage that had been made. The external was fixable, but the internal damage bothered Mushin. He did not know how much further the man could go, but he would not question his decision. He was a grown man and not his son.


“Okay, Tenrai,” he followed solemnly. All his questions would have to wait. “Okay.”