InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Untamed: Lecherous Hand, Wandering Iris ❯ Temple of Innocence ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Xagzan 
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. That all belongs to Rumiko Takashi, so I make no money from this.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Adventure | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 06.11.2008 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.6K | Visits: 302 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. That all belongs to Rumiko Takashi, so I make no money from this.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Adventure | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 06.11.2008 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.6K | Visits: 302 | Status: Completed
Hey everybody, welcome to the latest chapter. I'll admit that for a while, this wasn't the easiest one to write. In fact, I had `the block' for a short time there. Had to work through that, and I did, and I think it turned out well. I appreciate reviews, enjoy.
Temple of Innocence
Miroku gazed straight ahead at the sizeable pit rendered into the earth. At the bottom stood a solitary stone, which was now partially covered, in the growing grass.
“We're here,” he announced to his friend, who was staring at the temple ahead.
Ryutaro took a few steps forward towards the temple gate. “This is it? The temple where you said you were raised?”
“Yes.”
“And what's this giant hole?”
“That,” said Miroku, staring at the tombstone fondly, “is my father's grave.”
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”
“No, don't. It was a long time ago. Actually, I finally got to avenge his death just several months ago.” He smiled. He had not visited this grave since Naraku's defeat, and for the first time, he didn't feel a small gust of wind around his right hand when he passed it. Miroku raised his unclothed hand and stared at it. “And also,” he continued, “to rid myself of the same curse that caused his death, and would have resulted in mine as well.”
“Hm?” Ryutaro turned to face him. “What was that?”
Miroku held out his palm for Ryutaro to see. “A hole in my hand that sucked up everything in its path, and if it had grown large enough, would've devoured me too. My hand had to always be clothed and covered with sacred sutra beads.”
Ryutaro gulped. “Whew. I'm kind of glad I didn't know you back then. You might've sucked me up by mistake.”
“Come, let's go in,” Miroku said, not wanting to dwell on the past. He walked forward through the gate and up the steps, and his friend made haste to follow.
“Now you said the monk of this temple is called…?”
“Mushin,” Miroku repeated.
“That means `innocence', doesn't it?”
“Yes, which is actually quite misleading when it comes to Master Mushin.”
“What do you mean?”
Miroku sighed. “You'll see.”
They arrived at the top of the steps. Miroku slid open the doors and ushered Ryutaro inside the entrance chamber. “Master Mushin,” he called out, looking around for the monk. “It's Miroku.”
The two only had to search a little more before Miroku spotted the old man on the floor. True to form, he was sprawled out on his back, robe open, and an empty jar of sake under his bald head for a pillow. Under the statue of Buddha, no less.
Ryutaro walked over to the sleeping monk and bent down. “Oh man,” he said, quickly standing back up, holding his nose, “He's flat out drunk.”
“As usual,” Miroku exhaled. “Wake up, old man!” he commanded, bringing his foot back and then kicking the sake jug out from under the master's head, which hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Hnnnnn…” The monk groaned and rubbed his scalp, brushing off the dust that had gathered on it. “Who's that…? Oh, Miroku? It's been a while since I've seen you. Why are you here? Do you need me to mend a wound in your Kazaana?”
“Not exactly…” Miroku smiled and thrust his hand in front of the man's reddened face.
“Ohh!” He exclaimed. “My, my…either I'm still out of it, or the curse has at long last been broken!”
“I'd say both,” Ryutaro muttered.
Miroku nodded. “Yes, Master Mushin. Naraku was killed several months ago and the Kazaana disappeared along with him.”
“Hmm,” the old monk scratched his chest. “And it's taken you that long to come and visit? Oh dear, it seems I taught you nothing about manners, did I.” Mushin shook his head regretfully.
“Talk about manners,” Miroku snorted, “How about you learn some manners yourself before lecturing on them. Tidy yourself up you old drunk.”
Mushin sighed and slowly rose to a sitting position, folding his robes back over his gut. “Actually, Miroku,” he said, “I was hoping you'd show up. Your tanuki friend arrived just a few days ago, and said you were nearby.”
“Hachi's here?”
“Oh, no, he left just yesterday. I have no idea where he was going.”
Miroku was about to respond when two young ladies entered the hall, wet with water from the falls out back. The small droplets still clung to their hair, and their thin white robes didn't do much to cover their soft bodies underneath.
“Master Mushin, you're awake,” one of them said delicately, a touch of innocence in her voice. She and her companion stood calmly in their spots, as if awaiting orders.
Miroku and Ryutaro cocked their heads to the side, then the former lifted his staff and drummed it against Mushin's head. The old man grunted and clutched the bump on his brow, looking dumbfounded at Miroku's glare.
“Mushin,” he uttered in frustration, putting his hand over his forehead, “What is this? Please tell me you aren't… How old are they??”
Mushin clearly looked confused, but then his eyes shot open and he shook his head. “No, no, it's not what you think at all! They're just maidservants from the nearby village I hired to clean the temple for me.”
Ryutaro looked the girls up and down. He put on a confident grin and sauntered over to them, putting an arm around their shoulders. “And I'm sure the fact that they're gorgeous had no impact on the decision-making process,” he chimed in sarcastically. The girls giggled lightly at the compliment. Miroku caught their gazes; they were admiring him and Ryutaro too.
“Well…” Mushin began, but couldn't bring himself to deny the fact. Then, he realized he had forgotten to ask something. “Miroku, who is your friend there?”
“Oh, this is Ryutaro,” Miroku replied, remembering he had yet to introduce them. “And Ryutaro, this is Master Mushin. Ryutaro. Hey!”
His friend wasn't listening though. His concerns at the moment didn't lie in introductions with old monks, but rather tilting his head back to peruse some very feminine backsides. When he was done, he looked back at Miroku and winked, signaling his approval.
I guess it's too late now to ask them to bear my children, Miroku sighed inwardly. “Anyway,” he turned to Mushin again, “Ryutaro here wants to become a monk himself.”
“A man of the cloth, eh?” Mushin stroked his chin and looked at the fraternizing guest. “Hmm, but with that lecherous disposition, I'm not sure he should be entrusted with such a sacred vocation.”
Ryutaro looked at him in honest shock. “Y-You're kidding…” He looked between the two monks. “Right?”
Mushin struggled to his feet and brushed the dust off his robes. “Miroku,” he said, ignoring Ryutaro, “As long as you are here, take your friend and go cleanse yourself outside. Heaven knows you need it. And you two,” he looked at the ladies, shooing them away with his hands, “Clean. Make yourselves useful.”
“Yes, Master Mushin,” they bowed and left the room. The old monk followed them.
Watching them go, Miroku's vision focused on the girls' retreating rears. He hadn't missed the alluring glances they'd given to him and Ryutaro. He was certainly beginning to find them plenty desirable. “With women like them around, I might have to purify myself twice,” he said to himself, earning a laugh from his friend.
A few minutes later, they found themselves behind the temple, sitting on the rocks under the waterfall, their robes cluttered off to the side. Ryutaro watched Miroku, who was sitting cross-legged and resting his hands on his knees, and imitated him. Once he was in the same position, he closed his eyes as the other had.
“This is a traditional Buddhist ritual,” Miroku explained, “Meditation to cleanse your body and spirit of all earthly impurities you acquire.”
“You must have loads of them.”
“Be quiet and meditate.”
Miroku took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He lost himself in the water, immersed his entire being in the cascade, letting it wash away his mortal sins. Out of curiosity, he allowed himself to open his eye and peek at Ryutaro. His friend was sitting there in a mirror position, eyes shut, seeming to be focusing intently on meditating. Miroku closed his eye again and breathed again, calmly. Every sin he could recall floated freely into his mind; he brought all his misdeeds and faults to the surface, where they were banished into the pool below, thus purging him of uncleanliness, for a time.
He lost track of time, but a short while later, he heard his friend's voice calling to him over the rush of the waterfall.
“Hey, Miroku.”
The monk looked over to him. They both remained sitting in their positions. “What is it, Ryutaro?”
“Why did we come here again?”
“We're going south, aren't we? This temple just happened to be a very convenient place for us to stay on our way. For free. Not only that, but as I found out when I was a younger boy, the village near here has extremely…nice women. I was thinking we could travel there after staying here.”
Ryutaro stared at him blankly. “I can't believe you're thinking about that already, while you're still trying to purify yourself.”
“Yes, Miroku here has an almost one track mind.”
They looked up and saw Mushin standing on the bank, scratching himself again.
“You're one to talk, old drunkard,” Miroku retorted.
“Now, now, no need for that,” Mushin yawned. “Oh, by the way you two, have you seen a young man, just a bit younger than you I'd say, wandering around anywhere?”
“Um,” Ryutaro pointed behind the old monk, “You mean that kid over there?” Indeed, there was a young man, about fourteen or fifteen, walking in the surrounding fields, apparently headed back towards the temple.
Mushin turned around and caught glimpse of the lad. “Ah, there you are,” he called out to him. The boy didn't seem to realize he was being summoned. Mushin cupped his hands to his mouth and called again. “Shuichi!”
This time, the boy turned at the sound of his name. Seeing Master Mushin was calling him, his eyes widened and he quickly hurried to the pool. Miroku noticed that he was dressed in robes similar to his own, and also had his long hair tied back.
“As you've probably guessed,” Mushin said, almost reading Miroku's mind, “Young Shuichi here is an apprentice monk. He has been going on minor exorcisms lately for practice, and he helps me with my duties in the temple.”
“What, like drinking?” Ryutaro quipped. Miroku had to stifle a snicker. Shuichi didn't seem to hear the remark and bowed deeply at the two men under the falls.
“It's an honor to meet you, Master Miroku!” He exclaimed earnestly, his eyes on the ground. “And you too, Master Ryutaro. Master Mushin told me about his two visitors.”
Miroku decided that he was as pure as he could possibly be right now, and went to get his robes. He rose on the rock and nodded to Shuichi in greeting. “It's nice to meet you as well.” Ryutaro saw his friend getting out and quickly followed.
“You're training under old Mushin, huh?” Miroku asked Shuichi, walking over to him once he had gotten dressed.
“Yes, Master Miroku.” He bowed deeply once again. “Master Mushin is a monk of unequalled esteem and wisdom! I am truly honored to be allowed to care for his temple.”
Miroku sighed. Gods, this kid is stiff as a board, he thought. He reached back to tie up his damp hair. Together, the group made their way back to the temple.
“How long have you been here, Shuichi?” asked Ryutaro.
“Just a couple of months, Ryutaro sir. You see, I come from the nearby village where Master Mushin found Fuu and Yui, the girls in the temple. My father was also a monk, and I saw my perfect opportunity to follow in his footsteps. Master Mushin was generous enough to let me accompany him back and take me on as an apprentice. I am extremely privileged to be allowed in—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Ryutaro cut in. “Sheesh.”
Miroku chuckled at Shuichi's sincerity. There'd be no traveling with this one, with all the…slightly questionable things he and Ryutaro did with the fairer sex, and the methods they used to acquire lodgings. This kid was too disciplined for that, he thought.
They arrived back at the temple, where Fuu and Yui had already laid out a large dinner for them.
“Miroku,” Mushin spoke up once they'd started eating, “You are welcome to stay here as long as you need it. But, I know that you and your new friend are healthy young men, and that's why I'm going to suggest that you also pay a visit to the village where Shuichi and the girls are from.”
The apprentice boy looked up. “Why would they need to go there, Master Mushin?”
“Umm, well…” He struggled to answer appropriately in front of the well-mannered kid.
“I understand,” said Miroku, quickly catching on. “I'm sure Master Mushin is recommending that we go to that village to see if there are any evil spirits there, and to protect the vulnerable young maidens from any youkai. Is that right, Master Mushin?”
“Yes, that's exactly correct.”
Ryutaro was astonished at the way they could keep straight faces like that in front of Shuichi. Although, it wasn't like he also couldn't be subtle and deceptive like that. It wasn't that hard.
“Oh, I see,” Shuichi nodded.
“However,” Miroku continued, “We will stay here for a few days before setting out. Right now, I don't sense any evil presence nearby.”
“Me neither,” Ryutaro piped in, figuring it was the right thing to say.
“It's settled then,” Mushin confirmed. “I suppose you're tired from your journeys and will want to get to sleep soon?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Ryutaro replied.
“And tomorrow,” Mushin said, “You and Miroku will assist young Shuichi in his tasks.”
Miroku sighed and ignored Ryutaro's crestfallen expression. “Deal,” he conceded.
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------
Later that night…
Miroku leaned back on the futon and closed his eyes. Behind the thin door to his side, in the next room over, he heard Ryutaro flop down loudly on his own mat.
“Hey,” he called, suddenly curious, “Where's that bird of yours? He hasn't been with us for a while.”
“Ban?” Ryutaro asked. “Oh, he isn't always with me. I let him be free as much as he needs until I need him to deliver messages.”
“I see…”
“Yeah, he'll be back soon enough. Don't you worry. Now, I'm going to sleep.”
“Good idea. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Miroku put out the light and lay down again, settling in for sleep. What a long couple of days it had been since he'd left the ruins of the Komoko House. His time on the road since then before arriving at the temple had been dull and uneventful. All that he and Ryutaro had to do was tell the other things about their lives. That had gotten boring after a while. Ryutaro had told him that his parents were both dead, and that he had met some of Japan's most prominent figures of the time, like that Nobunaga people often talked about. Miroku had told him about his travels with the hanyou named InuYasha and their companions and their struggle to defeat Naraku and destroy the Shikon no Tama. Although, he had left out a lot about his relationship with Sango. He didn't need to bring that up.
Running all these thoughts through his head was slowly putting the monk to sleep. Just as he was about to nod off, however, there was a small tapping at his door. He barely heard it the first time, but when it sounded again, he opened his eyes and looked up. Then, when the knock came a third time, he could also hear a rapping on Ryutaro's door in the next room. However, he was far too tired to answer whoever it was, and fell asleep a few moments later.
----------------------------------------------------------- ----------
“Buddy? Hey, buddy.”
Miroku let out a great yawn and groaned when he felt something pushing on his stomach. He opened his eyes, brushed the sleep out of them, and saw a very pleased Ryutaro standing above him, his foot resting on his gut, shaking him. The monk blinked as the rays of the morning light caught the corner of his eyes.
“Hnnn, morning already?”
“Yep, you've been out all night. But boy, are you going to regret it.”
Miroku was perplexed by the silly grin on his friend's face. “What're you so happy about?”
Ryutaro motioned with his head to his own room next door. Miroku rolled onto his side to see what he was looking at. He had to squint, but he was eventually able to make the soft silhouettes of two people lying on the floor. From this angle, they looked like…
“Are…are those?” He stuttered. “The girls?”
“Hah! Who else did you think was knocking at our doors last night?” His friend laughed giddily. “You should've answered, buddy. Didn't you see the looks they were giving us yesterday? Anyway, when you didn't answer, Fuu came to join me and Yui.”
Miroku sighed at the man's lack of reserve. “I cannot believe indulged in such carnal pleasures in this sacred place,” he said sanctimoniously, lifting himself onto his rear.
“Don't give me that,” the man snorted. “You're just upset that you missed out on all the fun.”
“Yes, that's it,” Miroku said, disguising his indifference with fatigue. It was true that normally, he would be extremely dejected at having missed such a delightful opportunity as this. But, given his recent dream, he probably wouldn't have been up to a rousing orgy anyway. He scrunched up his face, recalling the events of the dream.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////
He was walking down a road, just an average dirt path. Forests and mountains off to his sides in the distance, nothing more. He kept walking, not thinking about where he had been, where he was, or where he was going. Walking, enjoying the day, those were his only concerns. And then, a village popped up. It didn't slowly come into focus down the road. No, it just popped up instantly just a little ways ahead. But Miroku didn't take any notice of it. What was so strange about a village poofing out of thin air in this world? Surely it was just as commonplace as say, a leaf blowing in the wind.
He decided to enter the village. Upon entering, however, he was greeted with a strange sight. There were, to his pleasure, no men he could see. Only a group of beautiful young women. They were scattered throughout the village, some just walking, some standing with their babies, others tending to gardens. What struck him, though, was that they had no faces. Well, perhaps they did, but their visages were too blurred in his vision to make out even the simplest of features. Those hazy faces then turned to his direction, making him even more curious as to what they looked like. Besides gorgeous, of course. They had to be gorgeous. Nevertheless, and although he didn't know how he could tell, he could sense that each and every one of them was…furious.
Furious? At what…? At who…?
Him?
Yes, that was it, they were angry at him. Fuming. And he could hear them. Not their voices, for they didn't have those either. But their emanating rage was just as loud and pronounced as any vocal scream. It rumbled over the huts, through the air, growing in power as the women slowly approached the monk, who found himself unable to move. The previously bright and sunny day found itself invaded by dark magenta clouds that rolled from over the hills and covered the sky.
Suddenly, the women grew. They towered more and more over the now petrified monk as they got closer. He didn't know what it was, but something forced him to his knees under an immense pressure. It roared in his ears. He could see nothing but clouds and hear nothing but rage. Somehow, with great effort, he was able to turn around and start crawling back the way he came. But wait…where was the way he came? Wherever the path was, it was covered in those clouds, and the shadows of the towering women behind him. He tried to scream when he felt them converge on him, but he couldn't. They were slowly, painfully crushing him into oblivion. He knew this was just the beginning, though. And then…
//////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////
And then fingers were snapping quite rudely in his face. Miroku blinked, knocking himself out of his trance. He reached out and pushed Ryutaro's hand away.
“I'm right here,” he said flatly.
“Good. You spaced out for a few moments there. Everything ok?”
“Yes,” he replied. He glanced over to the other room again where the two girls were waking up and stretching. “Next time,” he said, turning back to Ryutaro with a forced grin. The dream had ended at that point, so there was no point in dwelling on it further right now.
Ryutaro returned to his room where he and his companions got dressed. Miroku did the same in his own room. Once finished, they walked out to the entrance chamber, where the girls took leave of them. Under the Buddha, Miroku spotted Shuichi, sitting in quiet meditation. Miroku put a finger to his lips, telling Ryutaro to keep quiet, and they tiptoed past the boy. However, he must not have been in such a deep meditative state as they thought, for he opened his eyes as they passed him.
“Ah! Masters Miroku and Ryutaro. Good morning! How was your night?”
Miroku responded politely that it was just fine. Ryutaro snickered and said, “Incredible.” Shuichi looked at him in sincere confusion at what was so funny. Miroku was really surprised at just how innocent this kid really was. If he had known what Ryutaro did last night, in this temple, he'd probably have fainted while still smiling.
“Shuichi,” he asked, “Do you know where Mushin is?”
“Yes, Master Miroku. He said he would be outside purifying himself under the waterfall.” Shuichi spoke of his master with much more admiration than Miroku could ever remember having personally.
“I bet he's napping,” Ryutaro butted in.
“Don't say such things about Master Mushin!” Shuichi protested indignantly. “He is a good and wise man, and I hope to be just like him someday when I am a true monk.”
“Yes, he is a good man,” Miroku admitted. He patted the apprentice on the head.
At that moment, they all heard the rush of footsteps thumping up the wooden stairs outside. Miroku was startled at the speed with which Mushin darted into the entrance hall. The old man stopped and leaned against a post, panting to catch his breath. Miroku and Shuichi hurried to him.
“Mushin, what's the matter?” Miroku asked.
“Huff, huff… Shuichi's village…about to be attacked by a horde of youkai. Their presence draws closer…”
The young monk's face grew serious and he gulped nervously. Miroku could tell he was shocked. He turned back to the old man.
“Ryutaro and I will go deal with the situation,” he stated firmly. He glanced over at his friend who nodded resolutely. They made for the door, then noticed that Shuichi was right behind them. Mushin noticed as well, and pulled the boy back by the robes.
“You must remain here,” he told him. “You're not ready for a true youkai threat like this.”
“But I must go, Master Mushin!” The boy insisted. “That's my village, and it's my job to protect it!”
Miroku could see that Mushin wasn't strong enough to hold the kid back, so he barred the door with his staff as he was slipping free. “Shuichi,” he said calmly, “Listen to Master Mushin. We will handle this and make sure your fellow villager remain unharmed.” Shuichi made to protest again, but Miroku stopped him. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.” He turned to the old man. “Mushin, we'll be back soon. Ask the girls to have some food ready for us when we return.”
Mushin nodded, and Shuichi watched downtrodden as Miroku and Ryutaro raced out the door and down the stairs, and rushed off onto the path away from the temple.
To be continued…
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Next time:
Miroku and Ryutaro have a new mission: Protect Shuichi's village from a horde of youkai. However, what will they find when they arrive? Stay tuned.
My notes: Whew. Introducing OCs and developing isn't as easy as one would think. Obviously, I've just introduced another, who was in the outline for the story from the start. So I know where I want to go with him in the future, thankfully. Planning is good.
Anyway, comments welcome, see you next time.
Temple of Innocence
Miroku gazed straight ahead at the sizeable pit rendered into the earth. At the bottom stood a solitary stone, which was now partially covered, in the growing grass.
“We're here,” he announced to his friend, who was staring at the temple ahead.
Ryutaro took a few steps forward towards the temple gate. “This is it? The temple where you said you were raised?”
“Yes.”
“And what's this giant hole?”
“That,” said Miroku, staring at the tombstone fondly, “is my father's grave.”
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”
“No, don't. It was a long time ago. Actually, I finally got to avenge his death just several months ago.” He smiled. He had not visited this grave since Naraku's defeat, and for the first time, he didn't feel a small gust of wind around his right hand when he passed it. Miroku raised his unclothed hand and stared at it. “And also,” he continued, “to rid myself of the same curse that caused his death, and would have resulted in mine as well.”
“Hm?” Ryutaro turned to face him. “What was that?”
Miroku held out his palm for Ryutaro to see. “A hole in my hand that sucked up everything in its path, and if it had grown large enough, would've devoured me too. My hand had to always be clothed and covered with sacred sutra beads.”
Ryutaro gulped. “Whew. I'm kind of glad I didn't know you back then. You might've sucked me up by mistake.”
“Come, let's go in,” Miroku said, not wanting to dwell on the past. He walked forward through the gate and up the steps, and his friend made haste to follow.
“Now you said the monk of this temple is called…?”
“Mushin,” Miroku repeated.
“That means `innocence', doesn't it?”
“Yes, which is actually quite misleading when it comes to Master Mushin.”
“What do you mean?”
Miroku sighed. “You'll see.”
They arrived at the top of the steps. Miroku slid open the doors and ushered Ryutaro inside the entrance chamber. “Master Mushin,” he called out, looking around for the monk. “It's Miroku.”
The two only had to search a little more before Miroku spotted the old man on the floor. True to form, he was sprawled out on his back, robe open, and an empty jar of sake under his bald head for a pillow. Under the statue of Buddha, no less.
Ryutaro walked over to the sleeping monk and bent down. “Oh man,” he said, quickly standing back up, holding his nose, “He's flat out drunk.”
“As usual,” Miroku exhaled. “Wake up, old man!” he commanded, bringing his foot back and then kicking the sake jug out from under the master's head, which hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Hnnnnn…” The monk groaned and rubbed his scalp, brushing off the dust that had gathered on it. “Who's that…? Oh, Miroku? It's been a while since I've seen you. Why are you here? Do you need me to mend a wound in your Kazaana?”
“Not exactly…” Miroku smiled and thrust his hand in front of the man's reddened face.
“Ohh!” He exclaimed. “My, my…either I'm still out of it, or the curse has at long last been broken!”
“I'd say both,” Ryutaro muttered.
Miroku nodded. “Yes, Master Mushin. Naraku was killed several months ago and the Kazaana disappeared along with him.”
“Hmm,” the old monk scratched his chest. “And it's taken you that long to come and visit? Oh dear, it seems I taught you nothing about manners, did I.” Mushin shook his head regretfully.
“Talk about manners,” Miroku snorted, “How about you learn some manners yourself before lecturing on them. Tidy yourself up you old drunk.”
Mushin sighed and slowly rose to a sitting position, folding his robes back over his gut. “Actually, Miroku,” he said, “I was hoping you'd show up. Your tanuki friend arrived just a few days ago, and said you were nearby.”
“Hachi's here?”
“Oh, no, he left just yesterday. I have no idea where he was going.”
Miroku was about to respond when two young ladies entered the hall, wet with water from the falls out back. The small droplets still clung to their hair, and their thin white robes didn't do much to cover their soft bodies underneath.
“Master Mushin, you're awake,” one of them said delicately, a touch of innocence in her voice. She and her companion stood calmly in their spots, as if awaiting orders.
Miroku and Ryutaro cocked their heads to the side, then the former lifted his staff and drummed it against Mushin's head. The old man grunted and clutched the bump on his brow, looking dumbfounded at Miroku's glare.
“Mushin,” he uttered in frustration, putting his hand over his forehead, “What is this? Please tell me you aren't… How old are they??”
Mushin clearly looked confused, but then his eyes shot open and he shook his head. “No, no, it's not what you think at all! They're just maidservants from the nearby village I hired to clean the temple for me.”
Ryutaro looked the girls up and down. He put on a confident grin and sauntered over to them, putting an arm around their shoulders. “And I'm sure the fact that they're gorgeous had no impact on the decision-making process,” he chimed in sarcastically. The girls giggled lightly at the compliment. Miroku caught their gazes; they were admiring him and Ryutaro too.
“Well…” Mushin began, but couldn't bring himself to deny the fact. Then, he realized he had forgotten to ask something. “Miroku, who is your friend there?”
“Oh, this is Ryutaro,” Miroku replied, remembering he had yet to introduce them. “And Ryutaro, this is Master Mushin. Ryutaro. Hey!”
His friend wasn't listening though. His concerns at the moment didn't lie in introductions with old monks, but rather tilting his head back to peruse some very feminine backsides. When he was done, he looked back at Miroku and winked, signaling his approval.
I guess it's too late now to ask them to bear my children, Miroku sighed inwardly. “Anyway,” he turned to Mushin again, “Ryutaro here wants to become a monk himself.”
“A man of the cloth, eh?” Mushin stroked his chin and looked at the fraternizing guest. “Hmm, but with that lecherous disposition, I'm not sure he should be entrusted with such a sacred vocation.”
Ryutaro looked at him in honest shock. “Y-You're kidding…” He looked between the two monks. “Right?”
Mushin struggled to his feet and brushed the dust off his robes. “Miroku,” he said, ignoring Ryutaro, “As long as you are here, take your friend and go cleanse yourself outside. Heaven knows you need it. And you two,” he looked at the ladies, shooing them away with his hands, “Clean. Make yourselves useful.”
“Yes, Master Mushin,” they bowed and left the room. The old monk followed them.
Watching them go, Miroku's vision focused on the girls' retreating rears. He hadn't missed the alluring glances they'd given to him and Ryutaro. He was certainly beginning to find them plenty desirable. “With women like them around, I might have to purify myself twice,” he said to himself, earning a laugh from his friend.
A few minutes later, they found themselves behind the temple, sitting on the rocks under the waterfall, their robes cluttered off to the side. Ryutaro watched Miroku, who was sitting cross-legged and resting his hands on his knees, and imitated him. Once he was in the same position, he closed his eyes as the other had.
“This is a traditional Buddhist ritual,” Miroku explained, “Meditation to cleanse your body and spirit of all earthly impurities you acquire.”
“You must have loads of them.”
“Be quiet and meditate.”
Miroku took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He lost himself in the water, immersed his entire being in the cascade, letting it wash away his mortal sins. Out of curiosity, he allowed himself to open his eye and peek at Ryutaro. His friend was sitting there in a mirror position, eyes shut, seeming to be focusing intently on meditating. Miroku closed his eye again and breathed again, calmly. Every sin he could recall floated freely into his mind; he brought all his misdeeds and faults to the surface, where they were banished into the pool below, thus purging him of uncleanliness, for a time.
He lost track of time, but a short while later, he heard his friend's voice calling to him over the rush of the waterfall.
“Hey, Miroku.”
The monk looked over to him. They both remained sitting in their positions. “What is it, Ryutaro?”
“Why did we come here again?”
“We're going south, aren't we? This temple just happened to be a very convenient place for us to stay on our way. For free. Not only that, but as I found out when I was a younger boy, the village near here has extremely…nice women. I was thinking we could travel there after staying here.”
Ryutaro stared at him blankly. “I can't believe you're thinking about that already, while you're still trying to purify yourself.”
“Yes, Miroku here has an almost one track mind.”
They looked up and saw Mushin standing on the bank, scratching himself again.
“You're one to talk, old drunkard,” Miroku retorted.
“Now, now, no need for that,” Mushin yawned. “Oh, by the way you two, have you seen a young man, just a bit younger than you I'd say, wandering around anywhere?”
“Um,” Ryutaro pointed behind the old monk, “You mean that kid over there?” Indeed, there was a young man, about fourteen or fifteen, walking in the surrounding fields, apparently headed back towards the temple.
Mushin turned around and caught glimpse of the lad. “Ah, there you are,” he called out to him. The boy didn't seem to realize he was being summoned. Mushin cupped his hands to his mouth and called again. “Shuichi!”
This time, the boy turned at the sound of his name. Seeing Master Mushin was calling him, his eyes widened and he quickly hurried to the pool. Miroku noticed that he was dressed in robes similar to his own, and also had his long hair tied back.
“As you've probably guessed,” Mushin said, almost reading Miroku's mind, “Young Shuichi here is an apprentice monk. He has been going on minor exorcisms lately for practice, and he helps me with my duties in the temple.”
“What, like drinking?” Ryutaro quipped. Miroku had to stifle a snicker. Shuichi didn't seem to hear the remark and bowed deeply at the two men under the falls.
“It's an honor to meet you, Master Miroku!” He exclaimed earnestly, his eyes on the ground. “And you too, Master Ryutaro. Master Mushin told me about his two visitors.”
Miroku decided that he was as pure as he could possibly be right now, and went to get his robes. He rose on the rock and nodded to Shuichi in greeting. “It's nice to meet you as well.” Ryutaro saw his friend getting out and quickly followed.
“You're training under old Mushin, huh?” Miroku asked Shuichi, walking over to him once he had gotten dressed.
“Yes, Master Miroku.” He bowed deeply once again. “Master Mushin is a monk of unequalled esteem and wisdom! I am truly honored to be allowed to care for his temple.”
Miroku sighed. Gods, this kid is stiff as a board, he thought. He reached back to tie up his damp hair. Together, the group made their way back to the temple.
“How long have you been here, Shuichi?” asked Ryutaro.
“Just a couple of months, Ryutaro sir. You see, I come from the nearby village where Master Mushin found Fuu and Yui, the girls in the temple. My father was also a monk, and I saw my perfect opportunity to follow in his footsteps. Master Mushin was generous enough to let me accompany him back and take me on as an apprentice. I am extremely privileged to be allowed in—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Ryutaro cut in. “Sheesh.”
Miroku chuckled at Shuichi's sincerity. There'd be no traveling with this one, with all the…slightly questionable things he and Ryutaro did with the fairer sex, and the methods they used to acquire lodgings. This kid was too disciplined for that, he thought.
They arrived back at the temple, where Fuu and Yui had already laid out a large dinner for them.
“Miroku,” Mushin spoke up once they'd started eating, “You are welcome to stay here as long as you need it. But, I know that you and your new friend are healthy young men, and that's why I'm going to suggest that you also pay a visit to the village where Shuichi and the girls are from.”
The apprentice boy looked up. “Why would they need to go there, Master Mushin?”
“Umm, well…” He struggled to answer appropriately in front of the well-mannered kid.
“I understand,” said Miroku, quickly catching on. “I'm sure Master Mushin is recommending that we go to that village to see if there are any evil spirits there, and to protect the vulnerable young maidens from any youkai. Is that right, Master Mushin?”
“Yes, that's exactly correct.”
Ryutaro was astonished at the way they could keep straight faces like that in front of Shuichi. Although, it wasn't like he also couldn't be subtle and deceptive like that. It wasn't that hard.
“Oh, I see,” Shuichi nodded.
“However,” Miroku continued, “We will stay here for a few days before setting out. Right now, I don't sense any evil presence nearby.”
“Me neither,” Ryutaro piped in, figuring it was the right thing to say.
“It's settled then,” Mushin confirmed. “I suppose you're tired from your journeys and will want to get to sleep soon?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Ryutaro replied.
“And tomorrow,” Mushin said, “You and Miroku will assist young Shuichi in his tasks.”
Miroku sighed and ignored Ryutaro's crestfallen expression. “Deal,” he conceded.
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------
Later that night…
Miroku leaned back on the futon and closed his eyes. Behind the thin door to his side, in the next room over, he heard Ryutaro flop down loudly on his own mat.
“Hey,” he called, suddenly curious, “Where's that bird of yours? He hasn't been with us for a while.”
“Ban?” Ryutaro asked. “Oh, he isn't always with me. I let him be free as much as he needs until I need him to deliver messages.”
“I see…”
“Yeah, he'll be back soon enough. Don't you worry. Now, I'm going to sleep.”
“Good idea. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Miroku put out the light and lay down again, settling in for sleep. What a long couple of days it had been since he'd left the ruins of the Komoko House. His time on the road since then before arriving at the temple had been dull and uneventful. All that he and Ryutaro had to do was tell the other things about their lives. That had gotten boring after a while. Ryutaro had told him that his parents were both dead, and that he had met some of Japan's most prominent figures of the time, like that Nobunaga people often talked about. Miroku had told him about his travels with the hanyou named InuYasha and their companions and their struggle to defeat Naraku and destroy the Shikon no Tama. Although, he had left out a lot about his relationship with Sango. He didn't need to bring that up.
Running all these thoughts through his head was slowly putting the monk to sleep. Just as he was about to nod off, however, there was a small tapping at his door. He barely heard it the first time, but when it sounded again, he opened his eyes and looked up. Then, when the knock came a third time, he could also hear a rapping on Ryutaro's door in the next room. However, he was far too tired to answer whoever it was, and fell asleep a few moments later.
----------------------------------------------------------- ----------
“Buddy? Hey, buddy.”
Miroku let out a great yawn and groaned when he felt something pushing on his stomach. He opened his eyes, brushed the sleep out of them, and saw a very pleased Ryutaro standing above him, his foot resting on his gut, shaking him. The monk blinked as the rays of the morning light caught the corner of his eyes.
“Hnnn, morning already?”
“Yep, you've been out all night. But boy, are you going to regret it.”
Miroku was perplexed by the silly grin on his friend's face. “What're you so happy about?”
Ryutaro motioned with his head to his own room next door. Miroku rolled onto his side to see what he was looking at. He had to squint, but he was eventually able to make the soft silhouettes of two people lying on the floor. From this angle, they looked like…
“Are…are those?” He stuttered. “The girls?”
“Hah! Who else did you think was knocking at our doors last night?” His friend laughed giddily. “You should've answered, buddy. Didn't you see the looks they were giving us yesterday? Anyway, when you didn't answer, Fuu came to join me and Yui.”
Miroku sighed at the man's lack of reserve. “I cannot believe indulged in such carnal pleasures in this sacred place,” he said sanctimoniously, lifting himself onto his rear.
“Don't give me that,” the man snorted. “You're just upset that you missed out on all the fun.”
“Yes, that's it,” Miroku said, disguising his indifference with fatigue. It was true that normally, he would be extremely dejected at having missed such a delightful opportunity as this. But, given his recent dream, he probably wouldn't have been up to a rousing orgy anyway. He scrunched up his face, recalling the events of the dream.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////
He was walking down a road, just an average dirt path. Forests and mountains off to his sides in the distance, nothing more. He kept walking, not thinking about where he had been, where he was, or where he was going. Walking, enjoying the day, those were his only concerns. And then, a village popped up. It didn't slowly come into focus down the road. No, it just popped up instantly just a little ways ahead. But Miroku didn't take any notice of it. What was so strange about a village poofing out of thin air in this world? Surely it was just as commonplace as say, a leaf blowing in the wind.
He decided to enter the village. Upon entering, however, he was greeted with a strange sight. There were, to his pleasure, no men he could see. Only a group of beautiful young women. They were scattered throughout the village, some just walking, some standing with their babies, others tending to gardens. What struck him, though, was that they had no faces. Well, perhaps they did, but their visages were too blurred in his vision to make out even the simplest of features. Those hazy faces then turned to his direction, making him even more curious as to what they looked like. Besides gorgeous, of course. They had to be gorgeous. Nevertheless, and although he didn't know how he could tell, he could sense that each and every one of them was…furious.
Furious? At what…? At who…?
Him?
Yes, that was it, they were angry at him. Fuming. And he could hear them. Not their voices, for they didn't have those either. But their emanating rage was just as loud and pronounced as any vocal scream. It rumbled over the huts, through the air, growing in power as the women slowly approached the monk, who found himself unable to move. The previously bright and sunny day found itself invaded by dark magenta clouds that rolled from over the hills and covered the sky.
Suddenly, the women grew. They towered more and more over the now petrified monk as they got closer. He didn't know what it was, but something forced him to his knees under an immense pressure. It roared in his ears. He could see nothing but clouds and hear nothing but rage. Somehow, with great effort, he was able to turn around and start crawling back the way he came. But wait…where was the way he came? Wherever the path was, it was covered in those clouds, and the shadows of the towering women behind him. He tried to scream when he felt them converge on him, but he couldn't. They were slowly, painfully crushing him into oblivion. He knew this was just the beginning, though. And then…
//////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////
And then fingers were snapping quite rudely in his face. Miroku blinked, knocking himself out of his trance. He reached out and pushed Ryutaro's hand away.
“I'm right here,” he said flatly.
“Good. You spaced out for a few moments there. Everything ok?”
“Yes,” he replied. He glanced over to the other room again where the two girls were waking up and stretching. “Next time,” he said, turning back to Ryutaro with a forced grin. The dream had ended at that point, so there was no point in dwelling on it further right now.
Ryutaro returned to his room where he and his companions got dressed. Miroku did the same in his own room. Once finished, they walked out to the entrance chamber, where the girls took leave of them. Under the Buddha, Miroku spotted Shuichi, sitting in quiet meditation. Miroku put a finger to his lips, telling Ryutaro to keep quiet, and they tiptoed past the boy. However, he must not have been in such a deep meditative state as they thought, for he opened his eyes as they passed him.
“Ah! Masters Miroku and Ryutaro. Good morning! How was your night?”
Miroku responded politely that it was just fine. Ryutaro snickered and said, “Incredible.” Shuichi looked at him in sincere confusion at what was so funny. Miroku was really surprised at just how innocent this kid really was. If he had known what Ryutaro did last night, in this temple, he'd probably have fainted while still smiling.
“Shuichi,” he asked, “Do you know where Mushin is?”
“Yes, Master Miroku. He said he would be outside purifying himself under the waterfall.” Shuichi spoke of his master with much more admiration than Miroku could ever remember having personally.
“I bet he's napping,” Ryutaro butted in.
“Don't say such things about Master Mushin!” Shuichi protested indignantly. “He is a good and wise man, and I hope to be just like him someday when I am a true monk.”
“Yes, he is a good man,” Miroku admitted. He patted the apprentice on the head.
At that moment, they all heard the rush of footsteps thumping up the wooden stairs outside. Miroku was startled at the speed with which Mushin darted into the entrance hall. The old man stopped and leaned against a post, panting to catch his breath. Miroku and Shuichi hurried to him.
“Mushin, what's the matter?” Miroku asked.
“Huff, huff… Shuichi's village…about to be attacked by a horde of youkai. Their presence draws closer…”
The young monk's face grew serious and he gulped nervously. Miroku could tell he was shocked. He turned back to the old man.
“Ryutaro and I will go deal with the situation,” he stated firmly. He glanced over at his friend who nodded resolutely. They made for the door, then noticed that Shuichi was right behind them. Mushin noticed as well, and pulled the boy back by the robes.
“You must remain here,” he told him. “You're not ready for a true youkai threat like this.”
“But I must go, Master Mushin!” The boy insisted. “That's my village, and it's my job to protect it!”
Miroku could see that Mushin wasn't strong enough to hold the kid back, so he barred the door with his staff as he was slipping free. “Shuichi,” he said calmly, “Listen to Master Mushin. We will handle this and make sure your fellow villager remain unharmed.” Shuichi made to protest again, but Miroku stopped him. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.” He turned to the old man. “Mushin, we'll be back soon. Ask the girls to have some food ready for us when we return.”
Mushin nodded, and Shuichi watched downtrodden as Miroku and Ryutaro raced out the door and down the stairs, and rushed off onto the path away from the temple.
To be continued…
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Next time:
Miroku and Ryutaro have a new mission: Protect Shuichi's village from a horde of youkai. However, what will they find when they arrive? Stay tuned.
My notes: Whew. Introducing OCs and developing isn't as easy as one would think. Obviously, I've just introduced another, who was in the outline for the story from the start. So I know where I want to go with him in the future, thankfully. Planning is good.
Anyway, comments welcome, see you next time.