Author’s
Note: I wrote this story as a get-well-soon prezzie for houses, who managed to
injure herself. She’s a fantastic beta and truly remarkable person.
By
CinnamonGrrl for houses
Only a
little while
And we
believed our love
Would last
a thousand years
--Yakamochi
Another
year, and in the autumn word reached me of a powerful group of youkai in the
South engaged in a vendetta against the miko Midoriko. Her powers had only been
increasing, and her protection of the ningen settlements formerly under the
reign of youkai terror had nearly destroyed their population in the southern
and eastern regions.
A group of
youkai had organized to eliminate her. This I learnt from ambassadors of those
regions came to enlist my help, as they had heard of how I had battled with
her, yet remained undefeated—the only youkai to do so. Jealous of her seeming
avoidance of the West, they wished to know my secret of success against her.
Akako did
not wish my involvement in this war with the miko. She was by this time
carrying what was to be our only child, and her time to deliver was nearing.
She said she hoped it would have my ivory hair and golden eyes, but my only
concern was that he not bear her sanguine nature. A cold woman was Akako,
bloodthirsty and vicious, opportunistic and single-minded in pursuit of a goal:
the ideal youkai. Had I met her before Midoriko, my heart might well have been
hers. But it would seem there is some failing within me, some weakness that draws
me to humanity…
“Perhaps a
compromise can be reached,” I told the ambassadors. “The miko is fond of
compromise.”
“But how
can we compromise,” demanded the envoy of the dragon-youkai of the South, “when
to approach her is to be killed?”
“I will approach
her on your behalf,” I told them, “for though she is keen to slay me, still she
has not been able to.” Yes, I can be an accomplished liar when it suits my
purposes. They believed me, and in spite of Akako’s protests, off I went to
seek her.
I found
her in a cave not far from a village of demon exterminators. I made no sound,
but yet she knew of my presence. She stood in the centre of the cave, head
tilted back as she studied the damp walls, the stalagmites jutting down like
knives.
“This is
where I shall meet my end,” she said by way of greeting. Fury bubbled up in me
but before I could vent it, she continued, “I hear you are to be a father. I
congratulate you.”
I bowed in
recognition of her words, but was troubled by her acceptance of my situation.
“How can you bear it so easily?” I demanded. “Were you carrying the get of
another, I assure you, it would not be my congratulations you would hear—“
Midoriko
kissed me, and I poured all my frustration out into her embrace. “I do not bear
it easily,” she whispered when we pulled back. “If you knew the number of tears
I have shed at the knowledge you are wed to another, of my shameful jealousy
that it is not I who will bear your child... ah, Inutaisho, my soul is heavy
with loss.”
“You have
lost nothing,” I tried to assure her. “For whilst she may have my child, you
have my love, and always shall. And the love of this Inutaisho will endure, a
thousand years or more.”
She wept
then, and if I am honest I will admit that I wept some, too. “What good is love
if it is doomed?” she asked. “What good is pain if there is nothing gained by
it?” Midoriko lifted her head from my chest and stared up at me. “What can come
of such suffering?”
“Not all
is suffering,” I told her, my hands stroking over her, reminding her of the
sweetness that could be had, as well. Shuddering, she fell into my embrace,
pulling at my clothing with an intensity that surprised and pleased me. I took
her from behind the first time, glad to let my nature assert itself, delighting
in her receptive moans and eager arching back to meet each thrust.
The second
time, we took our pleasure of each other with more leisure, exploring each
other as we had never had time to do before. Compared to the deep peace I found
in Midoriko’s eyes, and the jasmine-scented darkness of her hair, Akako’s
flamboyant beauty seemed garish and overblown.
“I would
give you a child,” I whispered to her sometime in the night. “I would not be
bothered by fathering a hanyou, conceived in love.”
Her
trembling fingertips traced lightly over my face. “I would have been honoured
to be the mother of your child,” Midoriko whispered back. “But there shall be
no children for me.”
I placed a
hand possessively on her belly. “What of this time?” I asked. “You are
approaching heat in the next day or two, and I am not expected back for weeks.
If we—“
She shook
her head, glossy hair pooling on my chest. “I shall be dead before the spring,”
she said.
I
protested, railed and even screamed against this, but she only watched me
sadly. “It shall not change,” she told me, and pulled my head to her lap,
stroking my hair in the way that soothed me. “No matter how we wish otherwise,
the gods will not be dissuaded from this fate of mine.”
“Then I shall
at least be here to delay this hated destiny,” I told her, determination
flowing like fire in my veins. “You will live as long as I, Inutaisho, have the
power to ensure.”
We tarried
long in that cave, and learned all there was to learn of each other. Throughout
our time together, daily Midoriko partook of a tea that would prevent her from
conceiving. “I would not bring our child to meet my fate,” she said sadly as
she drank it the first time.
After a
week, it was time for me to return to my duties in the West, and she had evil
to confront elsewhere. She agreed to the compromise I proposed, that she would
cease her slaughter of the southern and eastern demons if they agreed to leave
the ningen of those territories alone.
I returned
to the West, revealed the new truce between the miko and the South and East,
and was amused to hear how Midoriko was telling the tale of the fierce battle
she had fought with the Western taiyoukai in the cave, how closely she had come
to being conquered...
“But I did
conquer you, miko,” I thought. “As often as you conquered me.”
Life
settled into something almost pleasant, then. My son was born, and at his
mother’s insistence, we named him Sesshoumaru. “Killing Perfection” is somewhat
of a steep nomenclature to live up to, I felt, but Akako would not be
dissuaded. He was my very image, but for the stripes on his tiny face; where my
own were jagged and violet, his were smooth streaks of fuchsia, like those of
his mother.
My pride
in my son was immense, matched only by my desire to present him to Midoriko,
and I was not surprised to receive, one day, a scroll bearing a birth-blessing
for him. The seal at the bottom was not one I recognized, but I had only to
smell it to know the scent of she who had sent it. Midoriko had poured a huge
amount of her power into this blessing, and I knew that my son would be well
served by it throughout his lifetime.
The winter
was mild, but the approach of spring and Midoriko’s death made me... unpleasant
to be around. All bore the brunt of my impotent rage, all except for
Sesshoumaru; he alone had the ability to calm me. It was ironic, I felt, that
the coolness of temperament that had repelled me in his mother, attracted me to
him. His quiet golden gaze, his silent watchfulness, soothed me as only
Midoriko had been able.
It was by
merest chance that I learnt of her final battle. I had gone hunting that
morning, and was entering the house via the forest entrance when I overheard
the discussion of two newcomers.
“That
miko’s not long for this world,” one said. “She’s been in that cave for five
days already, and she can’t defeat them. They’re too strong, they’ve been
preparing for a year.” He chuckled, a low and oily sound. “And no more than she
deserves, lowly ningen that she is.”
“I
wonder,” pondered the second, “if they shall ruin her before they kill her? It
is a common happenstance during war, but to mate with a human, even by force…”
His words trailed off. “Disgusting.”
I killed
them, and did not trouble myself to make it easy for them. Their pleas for me
to explain their crime were their last words. I never answered; this Inutaisho need not explain himself. I
left without a word to anyone; foolish, I know, but what words could I use to
tell my wife I was going to rescue my lover, and might lose my life in the
process?
“Even more
foolish to go at all,” I thought as I flew to the cave, my heart in my throat.
To risk my lands, my son’s inheritance, for a human miko… it was madness. And
yet I would have slain any who tried to stop me, without a backward glance,
without a pang of remorse.
I arrived
at the cave. From within issued horrific sounds of violence, of weapons rending
armour. Inhuman screams of pain, and I smiled—she was holding them off nicely.
I tried to enter the cave, and was thrown back against the villagers milling
about, curiosity and dread plain on their faces as they listened to their
saviour do battle.
“Why can I
not enter?” I demanded, but none would answer, none but a girl-child.
“Midoriko sealed
it,” she offered timidly. “She feared for any to interrupt. She said she would
not have any more destroyed than necessary.” The girl peered more closely at
me. “She said there was one who would give his life to save hers, and that he
must live.”
Fury rose
within me, and I turned back to the barrier, pounding on it with my fists and
hacking with my sword, my entire might behind it, before falling to my knees.
She had known I would come, and thwarted me. How I hated her then, hated her
for keeping me from her side, hated her determination to die alone when I would
gladly have died with her.
I scoured
the mountain in which the cave was situated, desperate for another entrance,
but there was none. I tried to dig out a new hole but even the massive strength
and sharp claws of my beast-form could not penetrate the rock. Time and again,
I returned to the barrier blocking my entrance to the cave, and time and again
was repelled.
All the
while, the sounds of Midoriko’s struggle with the demons issued forth. Each of
her cries of pain or exertion ate at me, making my fists and stomach and eyes
clench in despair. Both hoping and dreading the end of those sounds, I could
not bear to hear her pain, and yet if it stopped… if her cries came no more… it
would mean her death.
Powerless
and anguished, I slid down the barrier and buried my face in my hands. There I
remained another day and night, and then finally came the moment I feared: all
sound from within abruptly ceased. I had leant my back against the barrier; its
fading made me fall into the mouth of the cave. Instantly, I was on my feet,
running to Midoriko.
Her power
was immense, and throbbed like a heartbeat. Leaving the narrow tunnel, I burst
into the main chamber to find her clenched in the jaws of an immense,
absolutely colossal demon. The tail of a scorpion, legs and claws of an eagle,
body of a lion, and head of a wolf—all combined into a monstrous creature that
gave even this Inutaisho pause, in
awe and fear.
I ran
forward with blinding speed, but she knew I was there, somehow, and raised a
bloodied hand, stopping me with another barrier. She spoke, and as though
through deep water, I heard her.
“I will
die for you, my Inutaisho,” she said.
“You will live for me.”
And she
reached out with that hand, thrusting it deep into the chest of the beast
mutilating her. An unearthly howl arose then, for Midoriko was grasping its
soul, entrapping it within her own, condemning herself to an eternity of
struggle and combat. She withdrew from its protesting body a murky black
shadow, and it flowed up her arm, malignant and thick.
She
pressed with her hands, forcing it into her own chest, and for a moment she was
encompassed by its evil gloom. Then Midoriko shuddered, and her face
transformed, not unlike when I pleasured her during our joining.
A burst of
light, then, violet and piercing; the murk was dispelled, winking out as
suddenly as a blown-out candle. And she was screaming, screaming… to this day,
I hear her screams in my head. Again I watched, listened, unable to move as she
suffered. Something burst from her chest, something pale and glistening and
effulgent, as she gave a single whimper. It floated in the air, but my eyes
were locked on Midoriko.
“Beloved,”
she mouthed, her gaze gentle on me, making nearly no sound at all, but my soul
knew the word she spoke. She seemed to be stiffening, her limp form still
clutched by the beast becoming rigid. I as watched, my fists pounding yet again
on a wall keeping me from her, grey rock seemed to flow up her body, fusing it
forever to the creature she had just destroyed. “Belo-“
And then
her lips were frozen forever, bound by merciless stone. The barrier abruptly
fell, and I lurched forward, scaling the demon like a tree to reach her.
“Midoriko,” I called, shouted, screamed, but she was gone, and only a statue
was left. Cold granite, but tears yet welled in the corners of the blank,
unseeing eyes that were still turned to me. And in the centre of her chest,
where her heart had resided, was a hole, an empty cavern.
How long I
remained there, lost in grief, I do not know. Eventually, the villagers crept
into the cave. Some tried to speak to me; some wanted to pull me away from her.
The first who tried was dead before he could take another breath, and my claws
dripped his blood across her battered armour.
I came to
my senses eventually, and left the cave. I wandered home, not flying but
walking, aware that each step took me farther from Midoriko. When finally I was
within my own home again, Akako said not a word, but placed Sesshoumaru in my
arms. His calming presence smoothed my ragged soul; not much, not enough to
erase the pain of loss, but enough to bear it.
Life went
on. Akako died giving birth to our daughter, who also died. I reared
Sesshoumaru alone, then, and became aware that he had in fact inherited his
mother’s coldness and utter contempt for humanity. Like her, he was entirely
too hasty in dealing death instead of life, and I resolved to find a way I
could impart some mercy, that most powerful of Midoriko’s traits, in him.
Years
passed, and I made the acquaintance of a human woman, Izayoi.
She did not look like Midoriko; she was no miko, had no power to speak of. But
she was kind, and gentle, and when I put my head in her lap and she stroked my
hair, I was able to pretend, though it was wrong of me. We had a boy-child
together, and I named him Inuyasha. She is a fine mother, I think, and he is
well on his way to being a fine adult. His hanyou blood marks him for derision
from both ningen and youkai worlds, and though I try to unearth the disgust I
myself used to have for half-breeds, to look at him, all I can see is my son.
He,
too, has the look of me, though the eagerness and open affection in his
demeanour is all human, and nothing of youkai. This son will not have the
blessing of a miko, I fear, and I hope that his life will be a good one, free
of sorrow and filled with success. But he is selfish, this latest son of mine,
and unable to see others’ needs for his own.
I
have commissioned the making of two swords, one for each of my children. Each
shall address a lack in their character that I cannot remedy, but which will
only change and improve with their own grudging practice of it. Sesshoumaru
will be furious with his Tenseiga, I know, and Inuyasha will rage against the
futility of his Tetsusaiga. And yet this is what they need, what I know
Midoriko would have advised I do to complete the rearing of them, though it be
after my own death.
Yes,
my death. I know it is coming, even as I strap on my armour for this battle.
The dragon of the south has encroached upon my lands until I can no longer
ignore him, and the dragon-youkai are notorious for their ruthless ways. This Inutaisho is as a mere pup compared to
their ferocity, I assure you.
And
I fear that I have not the longing for life I once had. Too late have I learnt
that one person cannot replace another; Izayoi is not Midoriko. Midoriko is
gone. My death is coming. Is it wrong to rush headlong toward it? Is it futile
to hope we shall be reunited after I die? For I do not know where reposes the
soul of my miko; there is rumour that it is trapped in the jewel that was borne
of her heart, the jewel in which is captured the monster she battled for seven
nights and seven days.
I
fly to the South, to meet the dragon. We fight, we clash, we strive. I stare
into his red eyes and see my doom. But I also see peace, and the end to my
longings, and perhaps I am not quick or as steadfast as I should be.
There
are his claws, raking across my chest, rending my armour from me. There is his
breath, hot and rancid, as he kneels on me, holding me down so he can clamp his
jaws around my neck. And there is my end, life fading as he tears out my
throat. And yet I manage to mouthe, “Beloved,” hoping that somehow, Midoriko can
hear me, and know I call to her in my last moments.
Thus
ends the tale of the great inu-youkai, Inutaisho, and the love he bore a human
miko.