InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Whispers Behind Rice Paper Walls ❯ chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter 9: A night of weakness.

 

Isshin was feeling quite smug that evening.

 

It was 'that time of the month' again, but for once she didn't need to roam the filthy human abodes to bear the curse. Her sustenance could easily be found on the Western Castle grounds, thanks to an obtuse half-demon and his little bitch, conveniently soaking the silk of her luxurious bedding with her tears and her despair.

 

The strong negative emotions exuding from the petite form of the human female were positively delicious... pun intended.

 

Cloaked by shadows, aura retracted to a small pinprick and scent concealed, the elegant youkai fed upon the deep sorrow of her 'compatriot' courtesan, wide hungry smirk showing sharp white fangs, the black pools of her eyes hidden behind red painted lids in delight. She nearly groaned when the Miko started sobbing, the heart-wrenching sounds almost making her coming undone.

 

Humans were so full of uncontrolled emotions, every one of their feelings plastered on their wrinkled and greasy skin, the stories of their lives printed onto their own bodies, written with scars and salt-scented memories. They were so weak and pathetic she could have spent her whole immortal existence ignoring them like she ignored the ants she occasionally walked upon without even knowing it.

 

If only she hadn't been cursed...

 

Couldn't that damn witch find a more refined spell? Like, for example, needing to bathe in the blood of virgins on full-moon nights, like some other youkai nobles?

 

No, not her. Now, she had to bear the sight of worthless mortals crying their eye sockets out, and even, sometimes, bear witness to their own self-inflicted demise.

 

Disgusting.

 

But, well, sometimes, it had its own perks. Like feeding of the sorrow of the bitch currently occupying her rightful place in her Lord's bed on more occasions than she had the privilege to in all her years at the court.

 

She was supposed to be the future Lady of the West, for Kami's sake! What was her Lord thinking? Were humans so dedicated in the arts of rutting, for him to indulge in her presence so often? After all, the woman had had his hanyo half-brother wrapped around her little finger, perhaps she was gifted in more areas than holy powers?

 

Perhaps she would have to ask her... just before killing her, that is. And kill her she would, when her Lord regained his sanity and good tastes in women, putting this unsightly human back in her place: in the soldiers' barracks as the whore she was.

 

And it wouldn't be long now. The Lord would soon realize the unworthiness of this one and lose interest in her. The Sisters could then let the old black dog have his ways with the human female, and no one would ever look at the Miko the same way after he was done with her.

 

After all, no one came out unscathed from one of his 'sessions'. He wasn't the West's best torturer for nothing. No one escaped his broken mind. He ensnared you within his madness and never let you go. Or so she had thought before the Sisters.

 

The brittle and young water youkai had been with him for a whole night, and she had come out of it with nary a frown. To think this frail-looking creature would be this strong... or perhaps she was just unimpressed by the depths of the General's psychic fissures?

 

After all, a broken mind could not be broken again, could it?

 

Unbeknownst to the slightly dazed youkai, lost in thoughts as she was, the human had stopped crying, and was now panting, sapphire orbs glazed over. The feeding had been too strenuous for the little Miko, and there was only so much she could take before losing the battle against unconsciousness.

 

Isshin never noticed it when her prey slipped into a deep sleep. She merely continued sucking her very essence, tugging at her immortal soul, darkening her light with the blackness of despair and sorrow.

 

$$$$$$$$

 

Ruby jewels shone in the darkness as the Beast rose to wakefulness.

 

It had been sleeping for so long now that it couldn't remember the last time it had been conscious and in control. Was it not four human years ago, the day its left arm was cut off by the detestable whelp? Probably.

 

It had had glimpses of awareness from time to time, when the Little One had been in danger, but his more civilized side had always kept tight reins over it.

 

But now, something was urging him to get up, something about the new female of the pack.

 

Drawing his legs under him and raising himself in an odd sitting position, his nostrils quivered in a silent inquiry. Yes, her scent was there, marred by salt and water and an odd smell of putrefaction.

He growled lowly. She was weakening, and he couldn't track any direct threat to her by scent alone, he had to go where she was.

 

Unfurling his slender body gracefully, but still maintaining his humanoid form for the sake of his logical side's home, he strode purposefully through the wooden corridors, pale predator roaming on silent naked feet, the disguise of a nobleman belied by sharp claws and gleaming eerie gaze. He never stopped, never hesitated, his long shadow gliding along the delicate shoji of the castle.

 

When he reached his goal, he could hear her heartbeat slowing dangerously. This would not do.

 

No pack-mate of his would be harmed or worse, die, on him. He was Alpha. He was responsible for their health and well being, just as his Great and Terrible Father had been before him. His civilized personality had accepted this at long last, but it had taken time, and the beast was weary of being so lonely.

 

Pack was all for a Dog; family was the epicenter of his existence, and he had been denied this only luxury for so long now that he ached deep inside. He craved for contact and affection; he craved for trust and companionship. What the Lord in him saw as weaknesses, the Beast saw as something fundamental, something he would die without.

 

But the Girl had brought that to him. She had soothed him; he had touched him without wanting anything from him in return. She had not lusted after his power or wealth, or even after his body. She had reached for Him, Sesshomaru, not the Lord, not even the Beast, but the whole being.

 

Just like the Little One had, years ago.

 

And now she would perish just under his nose? Unacceptable!

 

He ripped the flimsy door out of its slide and prowled further into her private quarters, sauntering towards the futon she was currently lying on and lowering his tall frame onto the silken bedding, coming to the woman's side on all fours like the animal he was.

 

He sniffed towards her discreetly and frowned, his blood-red eyes narrowing into angry slits. Whatever was happening to her, she was not fighting it, just as if she was welcoming the embrace of the darkness, basking in the promise of oblivion it carried.

 

She was delusional if she thought peace could be achieved in death. Losing hope could only blacken her soul and bring her to the deepest recesses of Hell, where no peace could remain. Only unending pain awaited her there, he knew this for sure.

 

After all, he had been there himself.

 

No... something was wrong... he hadn't known this female for long, but she was a fighter, a fierce warrior. Whatever ailed her was not of her own volition.

 

Something, somebody, was harming her, and he needed his more refined senses and intellect to figure it out. Blood red turned to amber, and then to gold, as Sesshomaru regained his control over his own body.

 

In an uncharacteristic show of mild concern, a small crease appeared between his brows. Eyes hooded, he focused on a point just above her head to assess the state of her aura. It was weak, the pinkish white wisps of her purity almost overcome by dark stains and the greenish brown of decay.

 

But those did not belong here. There had probably been a tear in the barrier her Miko powers provided naturally around her more subtle structure, the seed of doubt and self deprecation weakening her defenses, and one had just had to slither inside of it to feed on her energy.

 

Sure that no one was there to witness his rare show of emotions, he outright frowned this time, understanding that without help, she might die, withering inside her more physical shell like a plant deprived of water.

 

This battle was not one to fight with weapons or claws. His youkai abilities would be of no help. He would have to understand where her 'breach' was, to know why she had allowed herself so much near the brink of death.

 

Well, somehow he gathered this must be linked to the previous 'interaction' with his dimwitted half-brother. He was treating her like a 'thing' to be discarded at will; he had never recognized her worth, when even the human-hating inu Lord respected her, appreciated her company, begrudgingly so, but still...

 

The faults he would despise about her kin were absent in her character, like greed, ignorance by choice, cowardice, and so many more traits that made humans insipid and far beyond his notice. She was none of that. Her foolishness was born out of an infinite selflessness. She never feared what she didn't understand, her child-like curiosity opening her mind on things her brethren would hate out of bigotry. She was loyal, patient (infinitely so, he believed, if her staying by his irate half-brother's side was any indication), and had a sense of honor even samurais claimed but never followed as naturally as she did. She would do anything to protect her loved ones, even sacrificing her own existence.

 

In short, leaving her to death, or even to Inuyasha for that matter, was a waste. And the young Lord hated waste with a passion.

 

He called her name, without any effect on her state of consciousness. He shook her lightly by the shoulder, and then slapped her, controlling his strength to avoid injuring her. He pinched her, and then cut her lightly, a few drops of her blood staining the white linen, looking nearly black in the darkness of the room.

 

His face was as cold and devoid of any emotion as ever, but he felt the first stirrings of something he scarcely felt: some form of confusion bordering of fear. He could not wake her, and didn't know what to do to make her fight back.

 

Not sure about the results of such an action, but refusing to let anything as appalling as failure creep through his spotless sense of self, he let his aura expand, the furious waves of his youki emptying the room of any deceptive sense of calm it may have possessed. He waited for the logical response of any purifying energy in the vicinity of such an aggressive display of power, but what happened left him almost slack-jawed.

 

Her eyes opened suddenly and her body writhed under the sheets, streaks of white shooting from her, but not towards the threat he would have thought. Those bolts never aimed him or his aura, but the dark blemishes nested comfortably in hers, destroying them, but weakening her in the same time.

 

She was going to kill herself, he realized. No living being could walk this earth without its more subtle structure, the aura being just the emanation of those energetic bodies buried deep under the physical skin.

 

But then, the human woman did something he would not have thought possible for one not of youkai blood. Arms extended towards him like the silent plea of a child wanting a comforting embrace, eyes still open but glazed over, she reached closer to him and put her cold hands on his chest, the sensation of her touch sending silent ripples of unease up and down his spine.

 

And then, she inhaled.

 

The proud youkai, not one for letting pitiful noises pass his thin lips, almost whimpered. The pain was excruciating, just as if his own blood was being sucked from him through every pore of his pale skin. But then, the sensation calmed, leaving a dazed Sesshomaru behind. She was draining his energy to replenish her own depleted one, and, him possessing an unbound quantity of it, found he didn't mind one bit. He was just glad it was not as painful as when she had started.

 

Her own aura had been reduced to a flickering and nearly invisible hue of purple, and she would have been dead if not for her ability to leech his youki out. Now, she was coated with his reds and blues, and he felt himself surprisingly pleased about it, wondering if she would stay this way or convert it into her own power. Purification usually destroyed youki. That was the point after all, but he had to admit to not knowing the intricacies of what had just transpired that very night, albeit not aloud, of course.

 

The borrowed energy retreated into her form, heating her body from within, making her face look less pale and sickly. Not more changes occurred; she still looked human, skin as fragile as rice paper, brittle polished nails, warm hands now sliding from his chest to rest innocently on his upper thighs.

 

She was looking at him now, a flicker of incomprehension flashing through deep sapphire pools.

 

What in the seven layers of Hell was Sesshomaru doing in her room at night, straddling her, his night yukata slightly open showing the pale expanse of his broad chest, with her hands on his...

 

She 'eeped', lifting the offending appendages as if she had burned herself, but not knowing where to put them, lest she touch any other... inappropriate... places of his -gorgeous and very male- anatomy. Noticing that he still had to address her in any form, and that he was still focused intently on the crown of her head for some reason, she huffed irritably and crossed her arms on her chest.

 

She would have tapped her foot on the floor with righteous feminine indignation too, if she was not currently lying on her back, the tall form of the master of the house still seated on her lower abdomen...

 

She blushed madly, feeling the part of his body she did NOT want to think about so close to the part of her own body that did NOT want to be this close to anything of the male persuasion... and, yes, theses thoughts seemed quite jumbled to her addled mind, but who would notice, as it was in her own head, and no one in the direct vicinity was a mind reader... or so she hoped with all the strength of her dwindling faith.

 

His penetrating golden gaze drifted downwards and locked onto her own, a small but smug smirk gracing the stoic face of the pale adonis above her.

 

Hmmm... or perhaps Sesshomaru did have the ability to read one's thoughts, and he never told anybody to keep the ace in his sleeves, so to speak?

 

She gulped, not knowing what to expect with him while not 'in the game.' After all, she had taken liberties with their shared intimacy before, but it was just for the sake of her 'mission' in his keep. She was certain there was no attraction between them, nothing physical above the affection she admitted to feeling for him.

 

And, probably, he would have loathed knowing how much a frail human woman basked in his closeness and comforting presence. He would hate the fact that she was using him in this way, sharing warmth with him and liking each and every minute of it. She would never admit openly to him how much she dreaded the day she would undoubtedly have to go back to her previous life, to her very real and heart-breaking problems. To Inuyasha.

 

He, for his part, was probably looking forward to it.

 

Or so she had thought. But she wasn't this sure about it now, looking at his almost-smile, this unusual and infinitesimal upturn of the corner of his lips, and was it relief shining in those unforgiving golden depths?