InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Two Colour Palette ❯ Respect: Distant Meetings ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

This chapter is the longest so far, by nearly 1,000 words - hopefully, it doesn't look too out of place, or drag on for an interminable amount of time. x.x Feedback on the length would be brilliant, as would any comments on Inuyasha characterisation so far, as I've had some criticism of it. Thanks to all who reviewed last chapter - you helped me get my inspiration back for this series more than you can ever think. -hugs- Anyway - enjoy!

Distant Meetings

Kagome climbs out of the well courtesy of Inuyasha, who lifts her and the bulky pack as if they weigh no more than a feather. The clearing is empty; the sky a pale eggshell blue, pristine and cloudless, and the trees lining the well-trodden path to the village rustle in welcome. She takes a deep breath of clean, Feudal air and smiles.

Home sweet home.

Beside her, Inuyasha sets her pack down in the long grass and visibly relaxes, all of his annoyance with her and Shu and life in general draining away, like water soaking into the earth after a long storm. Kagome watches it leave, relieved that she won't be subjected to an immediate interrogation. Later, when he's recovered from his fit of pique at her delayed return, they'll be able to have a reasonable discussion.

Hopefully.

Ears flick in her direction, and Inuyasha slants a look at her, unfathomable. She blinks, confused.

"What's wrong?"

Her hanyou friend takes a deep breath, letting it go slowly, measured and careful - totally at odds with his careless temper.

"... I don't like that guy, Kagome. He smells weird. Hell knows how you met, but you should stay away from him."

Kagome's brows knit into a frown, and an oddly defensive feeling rises up in her chest.

"Is that why you were so annoyed?"

Inuyasha crosses his arms.

"You were late. There're shards to hunt."

'And that's Inuyasha-speak for "yes"'.

"He doesn't seem like trouble, if that's what you mean. I only went to the art gallery because I liked his pictures, and we got talking. That's all."

The half-truth wriggles uncomfortably in her stomach, but she still feels undecided about mentioning the Feudal paintings - especially when she hasn't properly puzzled them out herself, yet. Knowing Inuyasha, he would instantly assume that Naraku has something to do with it. No matter that the hanyou has never before interfered in the future. Hell, they didn't even know if he knew about her origins.

But, if he did…

The idea alone is enough to give her nightmares.

Inuyasha scoffs, and she stops thinking, bristling a little at his disbelief.

`Just because I'm not telling the whole truth doesn't mean I can't stand on principle! Haven't we been travelling together long enough for him to take my word for it?'

"Hey! Trust me a little, why don't you?"

Inuyasha holds her glare for a moment, and then his ears drop. He looks suitably chastised, so she softens her expression and keeps explaining.

"He thinks I helped him out with some inspiration, so he gave me a painting..." She shifts the canvas under her arm, nudging it into her open palms for a long-overdue examination.

When she sees it, her breath catches in her throat. The glance she snatched earlier between accepting the painting and being pulled away by Inuyasha was only the tip of the iceberg. Her wonderment at seeing her own face - staring back at her from canvas in delicate brushstrokes and pastel shades - is rivalled only by her amazement at how he could possibly have managed to paint this... beautiful, beautiful thing in such a short time. A matter of hours! And after only meeting her twice...

'But still... that can't be me! It's too... well, too. In everything. I mean, are my eyes really that shade of blue? It doesn't stop it from being gorgeous, though. Even if it is a little exaggerated.'

Inuyasha peers at it over her shoulder, and dismisses it with a quick 'keh!'. He hefts her pack again, signalling the end of the conversation. She takes the hint and replaces the canvas beneath her arm carefully. Together, they walk along the track to Kaede's hut, and the questions she tried to leave behind in the future give her a swift kick in the backside.

'Can I justify keeping those paintings to myself? .... urgh. It's nothing to do with him, really, but... if he's suspicious...'

She catches Inuyasha looking at her as they walk through the rice fields, eyebrows raised and sleeves billowing in the breeze.

"What you thinking about, wench?"

His tone is genuinely curious, and she thinks she can catch a hint of concern in his eyes.

`Ah, the wonders of a hanyou nose.'

He must be able to catch the scent of all those crazy thoughts, tumbling around in her head. Kagome exhales, long and ponderous, swinging her arms by her sides.

'... I feel bad about not telling him, as stupid as it sounds. It has to do with the Feudal Era, so... I suppose he has an indirect right to know…'

She starts to take a breath. Suddenly, Inuyasha freezes, ears rammed forward and eyes focused on something beyond the tree line. Whatever it is, it isn't good.

"Inuyasha...?"

He silences her with a look. And then, she hears the screams, the shouts, the inhuman roars coming from ahead, along the path.

At the village.

Her pack is mercilessly abandoned beneath the nearest tree, the painting propped carefully against it. She leaps on to his back, and they take off, blurring across the short distance left between them and the battle raging over the hill.

Gripping his shoulders, Kagome squeezes her eyes shut against the wind.

'Please, please be all right. We're coming.'

&&&

He is minding his own business when he comes across the pile of items, sitting innocently against the trunk of a large tree.

The forest does nothing to hide the scent of his half-brother or his wench. Their trail hangs like careless curtains in the summer air, and he steps delicately around them, sniffing distastefully. The idea of having 'eau de fear and panic' saturating his clothes when he returns to the Western keep is most... inconvenient. It would not do for his generals and subjects to perceive the half breed's agitation as his own, or to make the assumption that he has lowered himself to the point of associating with his younger brother.

But despite this, his curiosity is caught by the oddities in his path.

He hasn't seen anything like the vulgar yellow... something, before. It isn't dissimilar to the medicine slings used by the healers in the keep, but the very fact that he, Lord Sesshoumaru, can't define its use is enough to incite his interest. He sifts through the different layers of scent surrounding the mysterious objects, peeling away the emotions, thoughts and worries of their wayward owner - clearly the dark-haired miko nuisance, if the nearly overpowering scent of witch-hazel and white clover is anything to judge by.

"Hn."

The wooden square leaning against the yellow bulk captures his eye, and he stoops to pick it up, the lines of his body ruler-straight. When he turns it over, Sesshoumaru finds himself confronted by a thing of beauty.

The artwork has the boldest and yet softest colour he has ever seen. It is something more suited to the bright creations lovingly daubed on the rich, folding screens, spread across the keep at his insistence. But here it is, a smaller piece with the vibrancy of a mural and the quiet calm of the Zen gardens, their flowing curls of silent water and contemplation. His eyes examine the structure of the canvas.

'What method is this?' Claws trace the fabric, angled away, teasing the edges of the wooden frame keeping the piece in shape.'It is none that is employed at current in the keep, nor one I have seen in the merchant gatherings.'

For now, it is no matter of consequence that the subject is Inuyasha's miko. He is drawn in, against his will, by the swirls of paint, of blues and blacks and greens and whites that make up her silhouette, coming together to create something... new. Something beautiful.

Inwardly, Sesshoumaru allows himself to smirk at the irony. He, the Lord of the West, the perfect soldier, the Killing Perfection, is taking the time to enjoy a piece of artwork. Yes, he has an appreciation for art, and beauty. The walls of the Western keep are proof enough of that. But this is different. This is a painting depicting a human. Better yet, a human female. A human female miko.

His father would be rolling with laughter, in the space between life and death.

He narrows his eyes minutely in disdain. Placing the art back from whence it came, Sesshoumaru moves to walk away.

'These objects are not worth my time.'

Unfortunately, circumstances interfere. And which particular circumstance is the most interfering, irritating and infuriating of them all?

Instinct forces him to still at the wave of familiar youki that comes sweeping from the nearby village, violent and vengeful. Out of control.

A feminine scream rents the air.

`Ah. The impertinent miko.'

The inhuman snarl dragged to his ear by the wind reminds him of his own stakes in this battle. His half-brother, no matter how annoying, is a member of the Western lineage. Familial bonds between pack members - however weak, tenuous or hated - are very demanding when ignored. And oh, yes, Sesshoumaru is ignoring them with every considerable ounce of power at his disposal.

Unfortunately, his building curiosity at the situation overpowers even his youki. It manages to send his feet along the path before he can draw Toukijin and soundly slaughter the wandering impulse. He fights the futile battle against his own interest for a while - because what Daiyoukai worth his blade would accept defeat? - before sighing, and conceding gracefully.

`What have you done this time, half-breed?'

Sesshoumaru continues towards the village. The painting sits, unmoved.

&&&

When he arrives, he views the bedlam from a distance. Although his instincts compell him to investigate the swell of Inuyasha's youki, that doesn't mean he has to intervene. And he isn't. Instead, he watches.

The human settlement appears to be plagued by an intermediate youkai pack. With them, from them, around them, the stench of unwashed bandit roils, and the gang of accompanying humans raise their knives and katana against the villagers, eyes blank.

`Feeble.'

He recognises youkai mind control when he sees it, even with the wind blowing in the wrong direction for scenting. Their youkai masters are nearest to him, watching from the flanks and waiting for the bandits to kill the fighters so they can feast on their flesh. Some are clearly too eager to taste blood, and decide to join in the fight, not discriminating between villagers or their own enslaved men.

Clearly, his half-brother and his comrades lack the superior knowledge and judgement to tell when a human is being controlled.

`But then, what more am I to expect from a hanyou alpha?'

Bleeding from several deep gashes littering his arms and torso, Inuyasha charges towards the group of youkai, claws raised. Even from his viewpoint, Sesshoumaru sees the red tainting the corners of his eyes. The Tetsusaiga is somehow buried in a tree, beyond the attackers and impossible for him to reach.

Luckily for Sesshoumaru, it is only a few metres to the left. He could take it in seconds.

`How very… irresponsible, to lose something so precious….'

His fingers twitch, but curl uselessly into his palm. His honour shackles him.

Utterly disgusted with both his upbringing and the sight of Inuyasha being bested by such a meagre pack, he turns his attentions to the rest of the battle. The slayer is protecting the injured monk, who lies spread-eagled in the grass, bleeding sluggishly. The firecat and kitsune are with the villagers, standing as a second line of defence against the bandits. And the miko?

His eyes scan.

“Get off me!”

Sesshoumaru lifts his lip in disdain. The woman is as loud as ever, brandishing her bow at the youkai attempting to crush her in its grip. The quiver is lying empty on the bloodied grass, snapped in half. She screams again, until its fist squeezes tighter and she chokes, arms falling down as she gasps for breath.

An enraged snarl comes from Inuyasha, and without the calming influence of Tetsusaiga, his youki surges further. He moves to attack again. But the bandits converge on him, their weapons pushing him back.

“Kagome!”

The wail of the kit as the girl goes limp kicks his half-brother into a fury, and his claws gleam in the sunlight, red beginning to bleed towards the centre of his eyes, pupils contracting, elongating.

`Pathetic.'

As Inuyasha is about to cut down the humans around him, Sesshoumaru senses a rise of power from the miko wench. Her eyes fly open, and she swings the bow forcefully into the face of the youkai. It howls in pain, purification energy crackling across its skin like wildfire, and crumbles into dust. The girl barely catches herself as she falls, but it is only a matter of seconds until she looks over at the others; the monk and slayer, the human villagers, the kit - all now fighting off bandits with little to no success against the mindless killers.

And then, she catches sight of Inuyasha, half-transformed and swiping at the expanding group of youki, spurred on by the death of their comrade.

Sesshoumaru observes, impassive, as the fear gleams in her wide eyes.

`The wench is scared of the half-breed. Predictable, for a human.'

Bored of watching his half-brother's pack being beaten to a pulp, he turns to leave. But for the second time in one morning, something stops him in his tracks. The woman is running across the battlefield, dodging youkai and bandit alike, and heading straight towards him. For a moment, he is confused - why would she be running to him? Does she think he would help? Then, he notices that her eyes are locked on the Tetsusaiga, embedded in the tree.

The wind changes direction, blowing towards him and bringing the scent of the battle, the scent of her approach, and with it, clarity.

She isn't scared of the half-breed, but for him. The woman wants to help his brother, he realizes, as she nearly trips on to the hilt of the sword and begins to pull at it frantically. The noise of the battle escalates behind her, and the woman speeds up, throwing all her strength into her action. Her expression perplexes him, a combination of determination and desperation that he only ever thought to see on the dead, or dying. This wench is experiencing neither of these frankly unpleasant states, and yet…

She is still fighting to uphold his honour. The honour of a worthless half-breed, a hanyou. She doesn't want him to be cast aside by the villagers, after his youkai form devastates the battlefield. Her scent tells this story, but he is no less confused.

Because if the wench is fighting for the honour of another, doesn't that make her honourable herself?

`No. Humans are not honourable creatures.'

His fingers twitch again, just as she gives a frustrated scream. It hurts his ears at such close proximity, but doesn't prevent him from hearing the sound of the blade rasping free from the wood. She stumbles backwards, into a bandit. Sesshoumaru expects her to cower in fear, but instead, he watches the fire in her eyes flare as she slams the hilt of the untransformed Tetsusaiga into his temple. Hard.

The man crumples, and she starts running back towards the mass of youkai surrounding Inuyasha. As she nears the main fight, the wench falters at seeing the bandits advancing on the slayer, the monk and the remaining villagers. The fighting woman looks over and shouts encouragement. He catches the words on the breeze.

“Keep going, Kagome! If he gets the Tetsusaiga and kills the youkai, we'll be fine!”

She nods and shoves her bow into the stomach of an advancing youkai, buying herself enough time to fight her way through the failing mob surrounding the half-breed. He is growling constantly, now, blood dripping from his claws and glowing in his eyes.

She pauses and squares her shoulders in the little space between them.

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rise.

`The wench is going to confront him in that form? … Hn. Her death is guaranteed.'

Bow in one hand, Tetsusaiga in the other, she takes a breath.

“Osuwari!”

The youkai-half-breed slams into the ground with a loud snarl, and she throws the sword into his open hands. Seeing their opportunity, the depleted youkai opponents charge towards the defenceless woman. She lifts her chin, shaking minutely, bow half-raised.

Cries of her name come from the other pack-members, stranded by the fighting.

She stands by the half-breed, ready to defend him.

Sesshoumaru snorts softly.

`Foolish.'

But somewhere in his cold, cold heart, respect stirs.

The youkai pack roars. Inuyasha, golden-eyed and sane, strains against the spell. When he speaks, his voice is harsh and wretched.

“Fuck! Kagome, move!!'

Inwardly, Sesshoumaru scoffs.

`That woman will not listen to one such as you, half-breed.'

His prediction is correct. She doesn't, eyes stubborn and stance firm. The bow begins to shimmer, trapped in a heat-haze of miko power.

But then, the magic releases Inuyasha, and he snatches her away, bringing Tetsusaiga up as he retreats back towards the rest of the pack. The wind of death blows. The remaining youkai fall easily, and the bandits follow suit when their masters depart for Hell.

The pair land, and the hanyou immediately turns to her, hands gripping her shoulders, skimming along arms and checking for injury. But even from his vantage point, Sesshoumaru can see the panic in his eyes.

`Useless half-breed.'

The woman is harder to read, but when he catches a glimpse of her face, softly smiling and shaking her head, his thoughts return - almost inexorably - to that painting.

And he finds himself doing something that he doesn't do very often.

Reconsidering.

'The artisans of the West could benefit from the new method. I will take it. It could be… profitable.'

Decision made, Sesshoumaru leaves, and lowers himself to petty theft.

&&&

Written for Set 1, Prompt 5, Respect, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated! Especially concrit. :)