InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Winds ❯ The Conspiracy of Intentions ( Chapter 12 )

Chapter 11

The Conspiracy of Intentions

 

The light in the forest was leafy and green, the sun high and bright. A shifting tide of winds moved through the trees and lifted the hair from Sango's shoulders, easing the heat, and she lay her sword against a tree and stretched. It felt good to be out in the open, breathing new, clean air. She could smell the sea, which surprised her; they were not that close to the coast. She breathed it deep, picking out salt, and sand, and the sweet edge that always lines sea air.

In front of her, an old stump stuck up at odd angles, but the wood was smooth and it was tall enough for a high kick. Sango fortified herself with a deep breath, and then began a much lighter conditioning regimen than she normally maintained. The stump shook under every blow, spraying dusty particles of bark into the air. It was odd; the limbs that had been wounded seemed stronger than the healed half of her body. She paused, and closed her eyes for a moment.

 

Perhaps it is just that I am not weakened, as I expected.

 

After she had counted one hundred kicks, she stopped, and performed a dancing kata, forcing her legs to respond smoothly, move quickly, allowing her sword to melt into her hand. She moved from one end of the clearing to the other, around the stump that now showed the marks of her training, and then stopped to pant, and lean back, and stretch.

After a moment, she turned back to the stump, and began the silent count inside her head.

 

 

 

 

Sesshomaru was wandering, awaiting the proper moment to approach his brother, and thinking about Rin. The girl was astonishing, her fear all for humans, not for him, not for the monstrousness of his nature or the savagery of his scorn. She…loved him. He allowed this, because she strengthened him. He had accepted this without thinking about it; what was the reason for letting her follow him, with her inevitable needs, if she did not make him stronger?

 

So…this I understand, this way of strength through protection…but I do not think my brother will believe me. He will think it is a trick.

 

His brother was coming into his own - could the same be said for him? His hatred for Inuyasha had become a casual thing. They had a common enemy, and in a strange way that he hated to admit, he could trust his brother even over Jaken. Whatever death wishes lay between them, and honor aside, they shared blood. They were the sons of the Inu no Taisho…even if there were days that he thought he would never understand his father, or the choices he had made.

He would save these things for another day when they fought alongside one another, and shared the strange, smiling knowledge that they might also share death. Their enemy had colored his view for far too long, a shield that prevented looking at the future. There were no constants; everything changed.

He was walking slowly, ignoring the landscape that passed by him despite its thick summer lushness. As he moved, he began to hear a steady noise, the thwacking sound of something hitting wood. He stalked the sound through the trees. It was distracting, and anything that drew away his thoughts from their current path was welcome

The sound led him to a clearing along the river that flowed past the human village. There was a woman there, alone, and she practiced a routine of hard body conditioning that he had seldom seen among humans. While he watched, her punches and forearm strikes gave way to a long series of shin kicks. The dead wood she was striking was stronger than flesh, but it still was beginning to show the marks of continual battering. When her leg struck the bark, dust flew. The length and shape of her legs would soon be imprinted on the wood. He was…surprised.

Human women did not often condition themselves to great pain, or seek strength. It was their only duty to stay soft and vulnerable for the men. His thoughts smirked. Youkai did not believe such things. A mate must be an equal - a mate was for pups, for companionship, for when the lust came on you and suffocated reason. His thoughts dilated, and then returned.

This woman sought glory for herself, the way a man sought glory, the way youkai sought glory. He understood this. Battle was the true expression of his soul; nothing aroused his senses and exhilarated his blood more than a fight against a worthy opponent. But it had been… a long time. For this woman, he could see that it was the same. As fists and feet pummeled the wood, a fiercely happy expression had consumed all other expression from her face.

A sudden impulse moved him, and he stepped forward from his hidden vantage to catch the next kick she threw. The force of her kick stopped so unexpectedly threw her off balance, but he steadied her with a tug on the leg he had captured.

“You…you are the demon slayer?”

He wanted to smile as he said it.

“Yes. And you are Inuyasha's brother.”

His eyes narrowed. He did not like being remembered because of Inuyasha, but there were disturbing things about this woman. Her scent was spicy with sweat, a sweetness of flowers and…sake? It did not matter. Over everything else, the scent of death reared its head and lingered. It was light…like an empty space only just filled, but it was definite.

Sango was struggling in his hold, but it was useless. She could not move more than three inches in any direction without threatening to fall flat on her back.

“Sesshomaru!”

He ignored her. How was it that a strong woman with fierce eyes could be dying? His eyes left her face, searching for wounds, blood, or a sign of sickness. They found the lightning scars, and he continued to ignore the little struggle she was making. Too much movement, and she would overbalance and end up on the ground.

“Sesshomaru, let me go!”

He was surprised that she would speak his name so rudely, when she was at his mercy, but it was amusing in a vague way. His attention was distracted by the scars and the scent that poured from them.

He had seen such wounds once before, but they had not been to a human. The demon had boasted of his scars, and the power of the dragon he had fought and survived fighting, and then he had died. Those wounds had held no mysterious scent of death, but perhaps there had not been time. The woman was human - would the demon scar destroy her, as the scent promised?

Her lips had become thin and white with fury, while he stood contemplating these thoughts and holding her motionless. With a violent twist and a wrench of the leg that had been captured, Sango flung her body up into the air. The foot that had been on the ground missed Sesshomaru's temple by a hairsbreadth. He released his hold on her, and took one step back.

He had seen this woman fight many times, but he had never seen such a dangerous focus of violence in her face.

“What did you want here, Sesshomaru?”

Her teeth were bared with her question, and her eyes sought the sword behind her, stuck at a useless distance. Barehanded, she could not even give him a moment's challenge, but her heart was beating for battle. The muscles in her arms and legs trembled, and then stood fast. The scars were beginning to burn her skin, and she could feel the lessening of her strength, but she would make her body obey her.

Sesshomaru was not interested in a fight.

“You were attacked by a dragon, a dragon who brought storms.”

It was not a question.

“What do you feel in your wounds, woman?”

Sango flexed her right arm, felt the new skin stretch, but her eyes did not leave his face. His curiosity was not cooling to her fury. His eyes probed her scars, dark and purplish, a long zigzag line that had been burnt down her shoulder, nearly to her wrist.

“Sometimes there is pain - like a burn beneath my skin. Why are you asking these questions, Sesshomaru?”

His voice remained as toneless as if he were commenting on the weather.

“You are dying, woman. Your scent is thick with it.”

Anger was fading out of her, dim with surprise and confusion, but apparently he was no longer interested in her. Smoothly, he turned and walked away.

“What are you talking about, Sesshomaru?”

There was only silence, and the leaves were folding back over the space he had made between them.

“Sesshomaru!”

In another moment he had faded from her sight, and Sango turned back to her training, asking questions of herself that had no answers.

 

Dying? How am I…dying? My wounds have healed.

 

~-~

Miroku walked between the boles of ancient trees, covered in dusky moss, and stared up at their unreachable canopy, awed. Leaves, both old and new, covered the ground like a thick mulch, and the path through the dimness seemed to lead straight onward, before and behind, though he knew that he had been traveling in a wide south-eastern curve.

Dak had slowed to allow him to stay abreast of their progress, but the occasional flicker of impatience still crossed the lynx's face, and Miroku was reminded of Inuyasha, the demonic lack of patience for human needs, the awareness of strengths that were not shared. The trees grew older around him, the leaves beneath his feet from drier, less recent falls of foliage, and suddenly the path was leading them to a single tree, greater than all the others.

Between the roots, a hollow had been expanded and built upon. A false cavern strengthened with huge bones made a look-out place that protected a wide tunnel with a door, leading beneath the jungle loam.

“It is not usually our way to live beneath the ground, but it is more protected that living in the open, and the caves to the south are closed to us.”

“Closed to you?”

Dak did not reply. Miroku followed him down the long tunnel, and found it surprisingly smooth underfoot, the walls raw only for the first few yards and afterwards covered with polished boards. The ceiling was flattish, but here and there the ends of roots pricked through the earth and reached for their hair with shaggy, stringy fingers.

Doorways began to appear on both sides, some curtained, some with wooden doors finely fitted. The sounds of children, loud and at play, struck at them from behind one curtain and then rolled out in a lump. The kits spread apart at Dak's feet, and looked up bashfully, but he waved them on and gestured for Miroku to continue moving.
”There are many young ones among us now. Six or seven females gave birth in this past season - those kits will be hearth mates.”

He paused to look back and smile.

“Sometimes hearth mates are closer than litter mates. It is good for them to learn the ways, and the play-battles are necessary, but sometimes they are a little…overzealous.”

Dak heaved the carcass he carried a little higher on his shoulders, and then a tumbling ball of head over heels kit was running toward them.

“Uncle! Uncle! You promised you would take me hunting the next time you went!”

Dak's face was suddenly gentler; a surprising thing. Miroku took the opportunity while his host was distracted to peer through the edge of the nearest curtain. Tiny lynx were scrambling over each other, none of them with opened eyes. They were soft and adorable like any other infants, and he turned away, enlightened.

So these youkai…they are not evil, just as Inuyasha is not evil. Inuyasha has human blood to temper him; I wonder what it is that tempered these lynx?

 

He paid closer attention to Dak, and watched the young one that called him `uncle'.

“I am sorry, Hiro, but you were not there, and this boar chose to dive straight across my path - along with quite a few friends, actually. I could not carry them all; the others are cleaned and hung in a cave a few hours from here.”

Without all the sharpness, Dak was a different person, and Miroku understood that he was closer than `uncle' usually meant; perhaps this Hiro no longer had a father?

“Hiro, if you want to help, go select a few to come with you and bring home the rest of the meat. Lead them, and come back before dark. We will feast tonight, in honor of our visitor.”

The kit grinned, a smile of many sharp teeth at both the promise of meat and the honor of leading the group. His uncle's praise meant much to him. The boy turned to examine Miroku, his eyes fierce, and Miroku returned the measuring gaze, more than a little surprised now.

 

He has depths in him, just like our little Shippou. I wonder if they would get along, Shippou and this Hiro?

 

“Uncle, why are we honoring a human? Why did you bring him here?”

Dak fixed the boy with a smooth look, and shook his head for a gentle reprimand.

“You should not ask questions in such a rude manner before a guest, Hiro. Have I taught you nothing?”

Hiro hung his head; would the honor he had just received now be stripped away, before he had time to enjoy it? How unfair!
”This man is here to help me find your mother, Hiro. Go now, and pick your group, and track back along my path here. I did not cover my trail.”

Hiro sprang back along the passageway, and Miroku let out his breath. He had not realized he was holding it. He found he needed to breathe, badly. Dak focused on Miroku's face as the Houshi contemplated his new taste of information.

“No questions here, please. A few more moments, and all your curiosity will be satisfied.”

They continued down the hallway, and now there were no more curtains, only doors, and a few bore intricate carvings, golden locks with delicate design, or jeweled hinges. Dak opened one such door, and gestured for Miroku to settle himself. Dozens of dark cushions and soft rugs were arranged around a low, polished table. The ceiling had been set with brilliantly painted tiles, mosaics of wave-shapes and floating, light-sailed craft, mosaics of lynx in green-fixed jungles, and dark, curling, calligraphic shapes to border it all.

Soft drapes and curtains both textured and silken floated along the walls, and Miroku stood still for a moment, taking it in, before he chose a yellow cushion for himself and sat beside the table. Dak took a cushion across from him, lay his hands flat on the polished surface of the table, and watched Miroku's face.

“Are you going to tell me now why you have asked me here?”

Dak's eyes glowed with troubles, for a moment a brighter green.

“That kit, Hiro - he is my sister's son. Sixteen nights past, she went out with a group of warriors, seeking the reason why our skies have gained a dankness, a smell of rot.

Sudden focus sharpened Miroku's gaze and brought him forward on his cushion. He had heard similar stories before.

“Now that so many days have passed, the families are beginning to mourn. A few have demanded vengeance, but most are unwilling to travel a path that leads to destruction.”

Miroku remained silent, thinking his own thoughts, waiting for more.

“The path that my sister followed was south - I have tracked her far enough myself to know this. This is your direction, Houshi, but for us that direction may be death for a strong reason, impenetrable.”

A strange light touched the lynx's eyes, and his voice sank low, not much more than a whisper.

“That is the direction of the sacred mountain. That is the direction which is death for all youkai. The great tribes are being forced north, but there is a boundary beyond which they will not go. That is the place of the rot. You have come from farther north than that, Houshi. Tell me, what it is that is up there? Why are you traveling south?”

Miroku stayed silent for a long moment, unsure.

 

Kagura's warning was well timed. Naraku! If I mention that name now, what will he think? And the mountain. Perhaps…if I tell him everything but Kagura?

 

“I am searching for your sacred mountain, Dak. It will not hurt me, but it is good to know that it really exists. The source of my information was…unreliable. In the north, the sky darkens, and an evil grows. It is spreading, a poisonous miasma and a black wind. It is Naraku.”

Dak hissed, a long sound.

“They say that a powerful priest is enshrined beneath that mountain, a man so holy that his bones have enchanted the entire mountain, and a great region around it, with a pure aura. This is true; it is this aura that led us here, away from the homes and hunting grounds of our ancestors.”

The lynx leaned forward, his eyes dark and flat now.

“But you are Houshi. You may walk on the holy ground, and it will not harm you. Will you continue your journey south with this extra purpose - to seek my sister and those who went with her, their lives or their deaths?”

Miroku stared down at his hands, thinking rapidly, and nodded once, quick. His eyes were dark and serious.

“I will do it, Dak. If you will grant me a corner for the night, I would be grateful. In the morning, I will continue south.”

“Do you want company, Houshi? Even if my warriors fear the road south, I do not.”

Miroku shook his head.

“Thank you, but it is better if I go alone. You could not pass the spirit barrier, and would have to turn back.”

Dak nodded, and then smiled slowly.

“Good, good, I am glad I did not misjudge you. You think, Miroku, and that is good - also, you are stronger than you look. I am glad you have agreed to help us.”

He stood, and stepped back, and bowed low.

“You are weary from your travels, and I was not kind with the pace I set. I will send a bath for you, and robes to relax in, while I make sure Hiro has done what I asked. There are preparations to be made for this evening.”

He stepped out the door, and it clicked shut behind him. Miroku sat back, and passed his hands over his eyes, and tried to let some of the tightness ease out of his shoulders. If he did not find the sister of this lynx, he would regret it himself. These youkai were not evil, and they were suffering greatly. Was it Naraku, once again?

 

Even if I have been lured here, perhaps I can do some good for these lynx.

 

He did not believe that Kagura meant to trap him, but there was no telling what depths of deviousness Naraku would sink to.

~-~

Inuyasha had been sitting with his ears pricked all day, watchful, waiting, all his muscles tense. It did not help that Sango had disappeared, alone; Kagome worried that she had gone off on some fool mission to find Miroku on her own, but Hiraikotsu still leaned against Kaede's wall.

With a suddenness that startled, Inuyasha leapt up from his place beside the fire and started to walk towards the door.

“Kagome, wait here. Do not come outside, do you hear me?”

Her fingers gripped his arm before he could take a step, tight and unyielding.

“Don't be silly, Inuyasha. Would I ever listen to something like that - ever?”

He only paused for a moment, his hand on the hilt of his sword, before he shook his head and swept out the door. It was only a moment longer before she followed him, just enough time to snatch up her bow and quiver. A hot wind was blowing outside, and blew her hair around her face. She batted it away, searching out Inuyasha's shape, but he was already leaving village, moving into the edge of the trees.

“Inuyasha!”

She knew he could hear her, despite the wind that whipped her voice around, but he did not stop or turn.

 

What is it that has got him in such a rush? Not Naraku… I would sense shikon shards if it was Naraku. Kikyou?

 

A dark shadow clenched her heart, and then lifted almost at once.

 

No. He made his choice. But…what then? Not Kouga again!

 

Suddenly, she was worried. If it was Kouga, then Inuyasha would do something stupid…and what if Kouga were to ignore Miroku, and tell Inuyasha that he had claimed Kikyou, brag about, taunt him with it? There were no illusions in her thoughts about what would happen. Kouga's blood would be everywhere, and over what? A woman who was already dead.

She broke into a flat run, and sped into the trees. There was no sign of Inuyasha - the forest was not thick here, but she could not see him anywhere. Her feet took her right down into the trees, where there was more growth and the light was dimmer, and then she was approaching the clearing where goshinboku stood.

To her left, there was a flash of red.

“Inuyasha!”

She darted after him, and then stopped.

 

Oh…this is worse. This is much, much worse than Kouga.

 

It might be Inuyasha's blood that was everywhere.

“Sesshomaru! What are you doing here?”

Inuyasha's voice was thick with snarl, and it was indeed his brother walking toward him, his face serene, his motions supernaturally smooth.

“Is it true, Inuyasha? You have taken a miko for your mate?”

Stillness came over Inuyasha, like he had been dunked in freezing water from the head downwards.

“And if I have?”

It was a low, dangerous voice that gave Kagome a shiver of pleasure, listening from behind her tree.

“It does not matter to me. I hope you have not sullied our father's blood further by taking the dead miko. The human is preferable, despite her…mortality.”

“Kagome is my mate, Sesshomaru. You will not touch her.”

Another shiver of pleasure, this one more intense. Why was it so pleasing to hear that rough, possessive tone run Inuyasha's voice ragged?

“I have no desire to touch your miko, Inuyasha. There is a message for you.”

Confusion broke through the angry sprawl on Inuyasha's face.

“A message?”

A strange glimmer worked its way across Sesshomaru's face, and he stepped back from his brother, a motion meant to suggest no threat.

“You will come with me Inuyasha. We must…talk.”

Inuyasha gulped. For a moment, he felt as if nothing had changed, as if he were three feet tall, clawless, gutless, swordless. Talking with his brother was much, much worse than fighting him.