InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubaki's Revenge ❯ Visitations ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

 

 

Tsubaki's Revenge, Part III: Visitations

 

 

Tsubaki glowered at her scrying bowl. The latest demon she had recruited for spying was an abysmal failure: if it saw anything like a human, she had not been able to hook into it with her scrying spells. It had sensed no youkai energy in the village, and when it had detected a person with spiritual powers watching it, it had promptly fled. Which said something for the quality of its self-preservation instincts, she supposed. But it had been of no help to her, in her quest to find out exactly what had happened to Kikyo and the Shikon No Tama.

Her hands curled into fists. What she really wanted to do was to saunter into that village, force Kikyo to tell her exactly what had happened, and then cast a curse to destroy that self-righteous prig of a miko, and whoever had destroyed the jewel.

But she didn't quite dare. The reluctance angered her, but she had underestimated Kikyo once before, at a terrible cost. She refused to risk paying such cost a second time.

Setting the bowl of water on the altar, the dark priestess picked up her mirror, willing her illusion to fade. Grimly, she stared into the mirror, at the ugly, terrible scar marring her once-beautiful face. It had been her mistake that had led to this: impatience and over-confidence. She had cast the subtle spell of love and early death on Kikyo shortly after Kikyo's refusal to give her the jewel. Smug in her power and fearlessness, Kikyo hadn't even tried to remove the curse. She, Tsubaki, had been clever enough to even enhance the curse, by whispering thoughts and dreams through the curse-link—thoughts and dreams of loneliness, of separation—of difference. Kikyo had fallen prey to those whispers—how else could she have even considered befriending a disgusting, outcast hanyo, let alone falling in love with one?

But she had lost patience with the speed of the curse, fearing that it might not be fulfilled before Kikyo purified the jewel. From that fear, and with supreme confidence in her own powers, she had sought out the miko and struck. But Kikyo, weakened as her powers were, had still managed to turn the shikigami, and the curse, back upon her. Touching her face, Tsubaki remembered the pain the backlashed spell had caused. It had been meant to kill; had she not instinctively managed to deflect some of the power, it would have killed its caster. As it was, she had been in agony for days, from both the physical pain of the scale-shaped burns to her face, and the pain in the magic realm, where she could not perform with simplest spell without fainting.

Face and magic had healed, of course, but not without scars. She had even managed to gain power, by figuring out how to tap into demonic powers without giving up any of her personal freedom or will, unlike the fools who thought to gain their desires by unthinkingly giving both their bodies and souls to a demonic horde.

Closing her eyes, Tsubaki willed the illusion back. She looked at her restored face with a sense of disgruntlement. She wanted a real restoration, not a pretense of one. She wanted true power, eternal youth, eternal life. She had been robbed of her best chance. She would find another way. But there were other things to tend to, along with her quest. She must find a way to learn what had happened, without warning Kikyo that she was back in the area. She must learn who had destroyed the jewel, and how.

Then she could figure out the appropriate revenge.

 

Kikyo watched silently as Mameo—one of the three widows in the village vying for the headman's attention—removed the small tables. From experience, even before this evening, Kikyo knew that Mameo was easily the best of the three at cooking. She wondered idly if the headman was close to deciding to marry one of the three. She knew there was a great deal of subtle pressure from the villagers on him to marry again. He had been resisting it since before she arrived; why, she didn't know.

Yasuo met her gaze and smiled slightly. He was not an unhandsome man, despite his weathered skin and grizzled hair. Kikyo knew there were younger women also flirting with him, and not just because of the prestige and informal power accruing to the wife of the headman. She did not think any of the girls had a chance, however. If Yasuo was looking for something, it was not youth and simple prettiness.

“We will not discuss my marital prospects tonight, miko-sama,” he said, eyes twinkling as she twitched a little, uncomfortable at the acuity of his guess. “Despite any curiosity you may have.”

Kikyo inclined her head. “It is not my place to question your plans, Yasuo-sama. Though I am aware that many women are concerned as to whom will be the … voice to whisper in your ear.”

“True. I valued my wife for many reasons, not the least for her ability to smooth over arguments among the women. She always seemed to know what to say, to me, to anyone, truly… “ For a moment, his grief was plain on his face. Kikyo understood then why he had been resisting, for he was still mourning. He picked up his cup of tea and sipped; Kikyo followed suit, dropping her gaze to give him the privacy to regain his composure.

“I regret not having the opportunity to meet your wife,” she murmured after a bit.

“She would have liked you, I think,” he said, in a normal tone of voice. “I am sure she would have been at your hut every day, asking how the hanyo was doing.”

Kikyo set down her cup, and looked back up, sensing that the main reason for her invitation to dinner had just come up. Not that she was surprised. “Inuyasha is healing more quickly than a human,” she said, “though, judging from his grumbling, not as quickly as he normally would.”

“And when he is healed?”

“We have not—talked about the future.”

“Ah.” Picking up his cup, he took a sip. “That morning, Kaede came running to my house, terrified. She said you had slipped out before sunrise, on the pretext of gathering herbs, even though you already had plenty. She said you left without your bow and arrows, and that she was certain that something had happened to you—she said she felt it. I was still gathering men to go after you, when the demon came through.” He paused for another sip. “When we did find you, you were mortally wounded, and your hanyo was badly burned.”

“His name is Inuyasha.”

The headman did not answer, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed on her face. Kikyo looked away, uncomfortable. She had not yet told even her sister everything that had happened that bitter morning. She didn't want to admit what had happened, what she had done. But she knew Yasuo well enough to know that he would not let her avoid the topic. And she couldn't—if only for Inuyasha's sake—afford to antagonize the headman. As miko, she depended on the village for most of her supplies, in an informal exchange for her services. Yasuo had stood up for her on several occasions already: he had argued to let her stay, when the villages realized the implication of the Shikon No Tama's existence. He had also smoothed over matters when some parents had been upset over her letting the children meet Inuyasha.

She sighed, giving into the inevitability. “I was taking the Shikon No Tama to Inuyasha. I—I felt it best if no one knew. We…” she hesitated, “…it really goes back to last summer…”

 

Yasuo listened as Kikyo told her story, studying her face as she spoke. He had been concerned initially when the young, beautiful and itinerant miko had shown up in the village. He had feared that she would be a source of strife between the young men, and between the men and their families. But the young woman had shown no interest in flirting. In fact, her cool demeanor and searching gaze—and her unparalleled prowess with the bow—had managed to overawe and daunt the potential suitors. Many of the young adults had come to the conclusion that Kikyo was an emotionless, cold-hearted woman interested only in her powers.

He knew better, of course—anyone who watched her with the children knew better. But he had never guessed that her heart had thawed, and for a hanyo. For a while, he thought her discomfort in telling the story stemmed from the very fact of having fallen for such an inappropriate being. But, as she described the morning's events, he realized that her discomfort stemmed from her sense of failure. She had failed to trust the hanyo; she had tried to kill him.

She came to the end of her story, still looking away. “An interesting tale,” he said finally. “I had no idea that a hanyo was even capable of love.”

Kikyo looked up, a glint of anger in her eyes. “He is half-human,” she pointed out. “Don't judge him for his ears, or who his father was.”

He bent his head in acknowledgement. “We are in debt for the lives he returned to us, miko-sama, as we are in debt to you, for your protection and your healing abilities.” He smiled faintly. “Many find it difficult to comprehend that a—an outcast like your hanyo could have made such a generous wish. But no one will deny his claim on us for shelter and food while he heals.”

Kikyo relaxed slightly; his sharp eyes saw it. Picking up his now-cold mug of tea, he examined the contents, then set it down again. “What would you have don if your plan had worked?”

She blushed, just a little. “I wouldn't need to be a miko anymore. Inuyasha and I would be just normal people.”

Could they have become normal? He wondered, but did not say. “You would have married?”

“When he asked me.”

He felt vaguely sorry for her. Underneath her mask, Kikyo was a woman, and wanted what women wanted. A pity she had become attached to the hanyo. “But the jewel is gone,” he observed. “And Inuyasha is still half-demon. What now?”

She looked away, the blush fading. “I don't know,” she whispered. “I don't …”

The visit ended in silence.

 

“I have to go. You heard the boy - the village is being overrun.”

Inuyasha watched Kikyo as she strapped the bundles of herbs and the extra quiver of arrows to the saddle, leaning against the staff for support. He tried for a mocking answer. “Keh. You just like being a miko.”

The jest fell flat as she whirled and glared at him. “Inuyasha--!”

He cringed, and looked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He heard her sigh. She touched his cheek with a light caress, but he didn't look back.

“I'm sorry, too,” she whispered. “I know you'd be with me, if you could. And it's not that I want to go—but I have to. They need me. You do understand, don't you?”

He nodded his head, not trusting his voice. She sighed again, and touched his cheek a second time, before turning back to the horse and mounting. “I should be back tomorrow,” Kikyo announced to the gathered villagers. “I'll try to send word if I can't come back.”

Inuyasha finally turned his head back when the horse began to gallop. Willing his face not to show what he was really feeling, he watched horse and rider disappear down the dirt road that ascended into the hills.

“There's nothing to be afraid of, Inuyasha,” said Kaede, coming up to him. “Kikyo left the barrier up around the hut. And don't worry about those demons - they won't stand a chance.”

“I'm not worried,” he said shortly. A bit too shortly. Kaede gave him a concerned look.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” he snapped. He turned away, placing his back to the road up which Kikyo had disappeared. “I'm taking a walk.”

“You already took one today,” she said. “You shouldn't over-do.”

“I'll be fine! Just leave me alone a bit, all right?”

No answer came, which suited him. With short, slow steps, he moved along the path that led alongside the village, heading into the valley and the fields. Around him were the odors of cooking food, as women prepared the evening meals. The smells made him both hungry and nauseous, and under other conditions, he would have been muttering curses about how slowly his body was healing. But the gut-clenching unease beneath the physical discomfort was not something to be relieved by words. The shadows were too long for that. Evening was on the verge, driving the farmers from their fields, and deep down, he was afraid. It was the night he had been fearing ever since he woke clear-headed.

The night of the new moon.

The night he turned human.

He stopped as his head spun and his legs quivered. Clinging to the staff, he closed his eyes, breathing carefully, silently begging his body to stop with this stupid weakness. How he hated this! He should be healed by now, able to escape the village and hide. Instead, he was stuck with this painful gut and aching shoulders and useless arm, he was stuck with the knowledge that at least one person was going to learn about his weakness. Kaede was trustworthy enough, but there was no way she'd ever agree not to tell Kikyo, and it wasn't that he didn't trust Kikyo, he just couldn't stand the thought of anyone knowing!

A faint, ringing sound came to his ears. At the same moment, something set every instinct howling in alarm. Stiffening, Inuyasha snapped his head up. He looked around, sniffing for what had alerted him. Walking towards him, staff in hand, surrounded by several of the farmers returning from their fields, was a monk. There was nothing unusual in the appearance or bearing of the monk - he was of average height, mildly handsome in a bald sort of way, and wearing an expression of polite interest as the other men queried him. But Inuyasha felt a growl starting in his throat.

He hobbled forward, with a rising tide of mingled fear and anger. One of the farmers—Koranna's oldest brother—saw him and waved. “Oi, Inuyasha! Come meet the houshi-sama - we've been telling him all about what you and Kikyo did with that demon!”

The hanyo felt a spurt of panic at those words. He stopped, struggling for control. It was only a monk. Even if he did have spiritual powers, the villagers were surely grateful enough to him and Kikyo that they wouldn't let the monk attack him. But the thought didn't reassure the instincts that were screaming inside his head. The wood cracked beneath his fingers as his grip tightened. There was something wrong, something so very wrong—

An errant breeze wafted from the group of men to the hanyo. He started. Among the smells of dirt and human sweat oozed another scent, faint but unmistakable. Inuyasha stared at the group, panting, drinking in the scents, cataloging, knowing which scents went with what. Only one scent was out of place. Only one person it could belong to. Whose appearance didn't match the scent. That one.

“Youkai!”

His thoughts disappeared in a blaze of fear and anger. Snarling, dropping the staff, he leapt towards the monk, hands arched to claw. Two of the men jumped in front of the monk as they realized his goal. Instincts shouting that there was only one enemy, not many, Inuyasha grabbed one man's garment with his right hand and flung him aside. He spun to face the monk, right hand arching again. Hands grabbed his bad arm, and he yelped with pain as he crashed to his knees. Turning to try and free himself, he found himself flattened as at least two more men piled onto him.

The panic spiked even higher. Writhing, kicking and hitting with his good hand, Inuyasha fought free of the humans. Staggering to his feet, gasping for breath, Inuyasha looked around wildly for his foe, then leapt, intent only on taking the youkai down with his claws. Too late, he saw that the monk was not unarmed. He jumped backwards, but too late. The razor-edged tip of the metal head of the staff slashed through his clothing and skin. The cut was wide but not deep. He staggered a little, recovered, skipped sideways as the monk flourished his staff, and never saw the farmer's hoe.

It hit the half-healed belly wound. Inuyasha gave a small grunt as his breath was forcibly expelled. His body folded up over the swinging implement, as his mind blanked out with pain. In a distant corner, the panic continued to scream, but he was helpless as the humans swarmed over him, twisting his arms behind his back, yelling something about ropes and spears and cursed hanyos. His thoughts scrambled for purchase, but there was nothing except the pain and the panic. It was a sea, drowning him, and he could not get free.

 

Yasuo paused to take in the scene. Inuyasha was laying on the ground, unconscious, his arms tightly bound behind him with heavy rope, his legs bound as well. Half a dozen men stood around him, looking defensive and angry; one knelt by Inuyasha's side, empty hands laying palm up on his thighs. Somewhat beyond them was the stranger monk, his staff supported by the crook of his arm, his face wearing a faint smile.

Heaving a faint sigh, the headman walked over to the monk. Folding his hands in front of him, he bowed to the monk. “Please accept our apologies, houshi-sama. The hanyo was badly injured fighting a demon who had killed several villagers; at the request of our miko, we allowed him to stay while his injuries healed. I hope that you took no injuries?”

The monk returned his bow. “I am unharmed, praise the Buddha. I am fortunate that your people were so quick to defend me. They were very skilled, to be able to take down a hanyo so quickly.”

“What skill?” A bitter voice held a snarl. Yasuo turned around. Kenichi, Korana's oldest brother, was still on his knees, but his hands now were clenched. “Inuyasha could still barely walk with a staff for support. I've never fought a man before in my life, and I took him out with a cursed hoe.” His broad shoulders hunched. “I didn't think! There should have been another way! He saved Korana, and my cousin, and I—if I've killed him…”

Yasuo winced inside. Kenichi was barely sixteen, but already one of the tallest and strongest men in the village. He was also gentle at heart, and was generally only driven to anger by a threat to his family. He touched the young man's bowed head. “You acted to defend a visitor to our village, Kenichi. Even weakened, the hanyo could have injured or killed an innocent monk, and brought shame to our village. You did the right thing.”

Kenichi's hands tightened, but he said nothing. After a moment, Yasuo sighed, and dropped his hand to grip the man's shoulder. “Take the—take Inuyasha back to Kikyo's hut. Tell Kaede what happened, and that she's not to loosen his bonds. Stay with her and help her out.”

The big man nodded silently. Shifting position, he easily picked up the limp hanyo and climbed to his feet. He looked at the headman, his face a mask of misery.

“Go on, Kenichi,” said Yasuo quietly. “I'll tell your family what happened.”

Kenichi nodded and turned away. Yasuo turned back to the monk. “Will you consent to stay the night in the village, houshi-sama?” he asked politely. “My place is not worthy of you, but I would be honored if you were to stay.”

The monk smiled slightly, and bowed. “I accept your generous offer, headman. I look forward to hearing more about this hanyo of yours. He must be unusual, to come to the defense of humans.”

Yasuo's answering smile hid his thoughts. This was one visit he did not think he would enjoy.