InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Every Heart ❯ Chapter 6

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.

The character Ryûtatsu is original to this story.

The title “House of the Moon” is original to Resmiranda’s Tales from the House of the Moon. It is used here in homage to said fantastic story.

This is merely one girl’s dream of life after “The End.”



“Are you sure you have no wish to stay here?” The elder monk looked closely at his companion, a lad of little more than fourteen.

“No, Master Mushin,” the boy replied, bowing slightly. “I thank you for everything you have done for me, but I don’t belong here. My soul will never be pure enough to serve the Buddha.”

Mushin, considering the boy’s seriousness, stifled a laugh. His gaze shifted to the small bundle, which lay partially open next to the boy. Even with his weary alcohol-hazed eyes, he could make out a small katana and gold armor plates. “You have the armor of a demon-slayer.”

The boy’s attention shifted to the floor. “Yes, but I have done terrible deeds with these items. I would ask that you purify them as well.”

Mushin raised an eyebrow. Purify a sword and battle armor? He hadn’t heard such a request in a very long time. “But if you used these in battle with demons, they would not need holy purification.”

The boy’s sad eyes lifted to Mushin’s face. “I did not use them in battle with demons, but to slay hundreds of humans while under a demon’s control.” His expression became drawn. “I do not remember how or why I became a murderer, and I do not wish to continue on this path. I would atone for my sins and spend my life in search of answers.”

The boy did not talk like a child, that was certain. Mushin studied him, with his bowed head and defeated countenance. He knew that demon-slayers were well educated, and had specific tools and armor. He also knew that this boy had a good heart, shrouded in doubt and agony over these mysterious past deeds.

“I suggest you seek out the village of the demon-slayers, my boy,” he announced. “Perhaps you will find your answers there.”

“Then you will not purify my armor?”

“No.”

The boy nodded, slowly standing and bowing again before collecting his bundle and walking out of the temple. As Mushin watched him disappear over the horizon, he wondered…

Sesshoumaru nodded once, dismissing his vassal. The information the inferior inuyoukai had just told him sank in, before being filed away appropriately in his mind. He noticed a little imp in the corner of his vision who was beginning to fidget uncontrollably. “Jaken, give me a report.”

The little toad jumped to attention. “Yes, Lord Sesshoumaru. I have spoken with the northern tribe. Their leader was curious to hear of your plans, and skeptical of your ability to raise an army in the time frame you outlined. I asked him how dare he doubt you, my lord, and –”

“Jaken, skip the theatrics.”

“Uh-of course, my lord. At any rate, I did manage to walk away with his word that he would send support for your mission, though after much personal humiliation, I might add.” Jaken bristled at the memory. He hated having to prove his loyalty to Sesshoumaru to the inuyoukai clans. He had been his master’s retainer for hundreds of years, surely that was enough?

Jaken waited for Sesshoumaru to say something, but when he didn’t respond, the little toad grew nervous. “So this means we have the support of the northern tribe, and the southern. There’s not much left of the eastern inuyoukai, no?”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed. “No, just the mountain dog and wolf tribes. I believe Koga will lend his support.”

“He should, that mangy mutt! Of course, without those Shikon shards in his legs, he is rather useless,” Jaken huffed. He gulped when he felt the full force of his master’s death glare.

“Shards or not, he is the wolf prince. He will support my bid.” Sesshoumaru had already sent another vassal to confirm this, with special instructions to “encourage” Koga if necessary. The wolf leader may not have much common sense, but he knew how to avoid danger.

Crossing Sesshoumaru was definitely dangerous.

“Myoga has been keeping surveillance on Ryûtatsu,” Sesshoumaru continued. “It seems our enemy lost many demons to Naraku’s seduction. This may be easier than I suspected.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “That’s no reason to be overconfident, however.”

“Aye, my lord,” Jaken agreed. “Those dragons are tricky. They do not give up easily.”

Sesshoumaru remembered the last time he’d spied Ryûtatsu, quite by accident on his travels across the country in pursuit of Naraku. The dragon, son of his father’s great enemy Ryûkotsusei, had overpowered all of the lesser demon vassals his father had commanded, to take the House of the Moon under his personal control. He had destroyed most of the building, and was living to excess in what was left of it. The whole scene made Sesshoumaru’s blood boil, and only reignited the passion to once again be in possession of his childhood home.

“Neither do I,” Sesshoumaru replied.

Sango looked doubtfully at the strange bag. “Kagome, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure this will be easier to carry than my other pack.”

“Sure it will! See, it has a side pocket for a canteen, and these little pouches up front for easy access to your poison powders,” Kagome explained, showing her friend how to open and close all of the parts of the knapsack. It was smaller than her yellow backpack, and she had brought it over in a pinch a few months before. As Sango was cleaning up her part of the room in Kaede’s hut in preparation for her journey, she unearthed the forgotten bag. Kagome was trying to convince her to use it.

Sango still looked uncertain, even as Kagome showed her how roomy the interior of the bag was. “You can hold lots of clothes,” she wheedled. “Let me show you!” She began to fold Sango’s travelling costumes and stuff them in the brown bag.

Sango watched as Kagome fit everything that she usually carried in a pack around her neck into the bag, her amusement growing as her friend touted the extra space to store other tools, like the poison masks she had been working on since their return. “All right, all right!” she finally conceded, chuckling at the expression on Kagome’s face. “You’ve convinced me!” The two continued to pack, until there was little sign the demon-slayer had lived there.

The girls joined Miroku, Shippo, Inuyasha, and his shadow, Rin, outside the hut. The sun was setting, bathing the landscape in oranges and reds. The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn, making the onset of autumn apparent to all.

“I have summoned Hachi,” Miroku informed the girls. He looked surprised to see Sango sporting the knapsack, but didn’t say anything. “He should be here any minute.”

Sango picked up Kirara and cuddled him as they waited. The badger-raccoon wasted no time in arriving, though he looked more nervous than usual.

“Master Miroku, it is so good to see you again! And without your dangerous wind tunnel!” Hachi smiled at Miroku, refraining from hugging the monk in relief as he so obviously wanted to do. “I almost didn’t make it; I see demons are emerging again in force!”

“Yes, we have felt the rising tide of youki near this village,” Miroku replied. “It seems word has spread that the Shikon No Tama remains intact.”

“Oh, is that the reason?” Hachi questioned, turning to look at Kagome. She nodded in response, pulling the jewel out from under her shirt to show him. “Oh, dear, this could mean trouble!”

“Feh,” Inuyasha snorted. “Not while it’s in our control.”

Hachi shot a wry glance at Inuyasha, but said nothing. He turned back to Miroku. “So you wish to see Master Mushin, yes? I know he is anxious to see you, too.”

“I can only imagine,” Miroku said darkly. “Yes, we will start with Mushin, but our ultimate goal is to find my dear Sango’s younger brother. He is the only family she has left, and he is lost.”

Hachi bowed to Sango. “I see, Lady Sango. I will do my best to help you.”

“Thank you, Hachi,” Sango said. “Let us begin our journey.”

The group said their goodbyes and exchanged hugs and warm wishes. Hachi transformed into his travelling form, taking Miroku, Sango, and Kirara aboard before ascending into the air. Kagome waved to them until they disappeared from sight. “Good luck!” she cried.

I hope they find what they’re looking for, she thought. Sango will be shattered if they fail.

There were distinct advantages to being as tiny as a speck of dirt. For instance, one would make an excellent spy if one could always go unseen by the enemy. That was precisely how Myoga the Flea was drafted into Sesshoumaru’s army.

Myoga was initially reluctant to help Sesshoumaru, but as a loyal servant of the Inu No Taisho, he was secretly thrilled to see the elder son take up the mantle of taiyoukai. He had spent many happy years in the House of the Moon, and was aghast when he was cast out to watch over his dead master’s false tomb. Hearing that it had been conquered by Ryûtatsu greatly saddened the old flea demon, and he agreed to do whatever he could to see that it was retaken.

Unfortunately, that meant finding the intestinal fortitude to be a spy. He had been deeply ensconced in the spoiled, selfish dragon’s entourage for almost a full moon cycle, and on the whole, the experience was quite depressing.

Ryûtatsu’s vassals were lazy slobs, given to excess in drink, women, and gossip. They discussed their latest “conquests” (which Myoga learned was really torture of the former vassals-turned-slaves) and various rumors. The demise of Naraku was of great interest to them; there were a great many dragon youkai who had fallen under said hanyou’s spell and lost their lives when he was destroyed. None of them seemed bright enough to realize that, with Naraku’s destruction, Sesshoumaru’s new focus was on rebuilding his father’s power.

Ryûtatsu realized this, of course, but didn’t seem overly concerned. “Sesshoumaru is merely a wounded puppy looking for a little attention,” he remarked to one of his counselors. “He ran away from his heritage long before I happened along.”

Myoga tactfully left that out of his coded message back to base; he sent them with his carrier crows once a week to keep his lord up-to-date with the mood of the castle. He was writing out another such missive when an interesting conversation fell to his ears.

“Did you hear?” one of the sentinels whispered to his companion as they relaxed in their guard duty. “The Shikon Jewel survived!”

This brought out a gasp of surprise and awe; the storyteller, moved by the reaction he was so obviously expecting, continued with his tale.

“Yes! It is said that the jewel remains intact with the priestess who once purified it. The jewel’s power has doubled – no, tripled! – since Naraku’s destruction, as all of his evil was purified out of it.”

“Lord Ryûtatsu will be eager to learn of this!” the companion proclaimed. He rustled about, ready to enter his lord’s chamber. “After all, any power is useful power!”

Myoga raced as fast as his tiny legs would carry him, only barely managing to hold on to the excited guard’s leg armor as he entered the room. Ryûtatsu was sitting at his desk, looking utterly bored as two of his top advisors droned on. His face registered interest at the upstart guard.

“What reason do you have for entering this chamber?” he demanded, his voice booming across the room.

The sentinel bowed, his forehead practically scraping the floor. “My lord, very interesting news has just reached us from an outlook scout.” Myoga rolled his eyes at the terrible lie, but Ryûtatsu didn’t react.

“Proceed,” he commanded, his voice calmer.

“The Shikon Jewel remains intact, my lord, and nearby. It is said that the priestess who purified it after Naraku’s destruction carries it still, and that the jewel’s power has increased tenfold in the ensuing time!”

My, how stories are embellished, Myoga reflected. Surely this one doesn’t even have a grain of truth!

Ryûtatsu grinned, looking every ounce the evil villain. “Good, good. We shall send someone to find the jewel and bring it back here.”

The guard grew even more excited, if that was possible. “Who did you have in mind, my lord?” he asked reverently, his voice quivering with emotion.

“Oh, I have someone – or should I say, something – special in mind,” Ryûtatsu replied, his smirk growing.

Oh, no, Myoga thought, his mind racing. This can’t be good.