InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubaki's Revenge ❯ The Hunt Begins ( Chapter 21 )

Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

 

Tsubaki's Revenge, Part XXI: The Hunt Begins 

 

Her headache was mostly gone when she woke up. Carefully sitting up, Kikyo pulled back the cover and pulled up kimono to examine her broken leg. The lower leg was splinted; somewhat to her surprise, she saw that someone had taken the time to wrap her leg with a cushion of combed cotton held in place by a wrapping of undyed cotton bandages, before strapping on the splints. The wood slabs had not just been cut to the proper length, but someone had taken the time to smooth away splinters and round the ends.

Pulling up the cloth further, she examined her thigh by touch. The outer leg was badly bruised, but she could live with that easily enough. She was still examining her leg when a male voice bid her good morning.

She started with an undignified squeak, and then grabbed the cover and pulled it to her waist. “Don't do that!” she exclaimed, flinging her head up to stare at the monk, cheeks heating. “Sneaking up like that!”

His eyes laughed at her, though he tried to hide a smile. “I noticed when I help Shika several days ago to set your bones, that you have very beautiful legs, miko-sama. Don't worry, I won't tell a soul.”

She reddened further, but before she could say anything, he leaned over and set a small table beside her. “Next time, I will stomp,” he added, sinking gracefully to a kneeling position. “How's your head?”

“Much better,” Kikyo said, her blush starting to fade. She looked over the contents of the small table, and selected a shallow bowl filled with liquid. As she suspected, it was willowbark tea. She tested the strength with a small sip, then drained the small bowl. “Where is Shika?” she asked, reaching for the tall cup of regular tea.

“Called out to assist a birthing,” he replied blandly. “Just before dawn, and a first birth, I understand.” He paused. “Fortunate for us, I think.”

Kikyo eyed him sharply, warming her hands on the cup. “What are you talking about?”

He gave her a slight smile. “I've negotiated with the headman for a horse—yours is fine, save for a slight limp, which he assures me she will walk out, as long as you don't push her. He understands the urgency of your mission: with Shika occupied elsewhere, we should be able to slip away without a fuss.”

Kikyo blinked. “You're … coming with me? Why?”

“How can I possibly allow a beautiful, injured woman to take all the burdens of her quest on her own fragile shoulders?” he declaimed with a sly grin. Then he turned serious. “I'd been hearing rumors about a dark priestess, as well as the talk about demonic activity. Even if she still thinks you're dead, you'll be at a disadvantage coming up against her, especially if she's put youkai under her control. So I'm coming with you.”

Something within her gave a cry of relief, and for a moment, her eyes burned. “Thank-you,” she whispered, fighting the threat of tears by raising her cup and drinking. She was still afraid of what would happen when he discovered the rescueé was hanyo. But the thought that she would not be facing Tsubaki alone, when she herself was injured and Inuyasha's life in peril from the dark priestess' hands—the burden of fear was more than she had realized.

“I'm sure you can find a way to repay me,” he said, in a rougish tone of voice that made her glare at him over the edge of her cup. “Especially if you—friend—isn't the jealous type.”

“I would not suggest trying to make him jealous,” she replied coolly, after a moment. “He tends to have a temper.”

 

They were on their way in relatively short order. Kikyo had discovered her cheeks heating again, this time from the easy way Miyatsu had put his hands around her waist and lifted her into the saddle, then steadying her as she swung her good leg over the mare's withers. His hand had slid from her thigh with an unmistakable caress, which had, despite evidence for his nature, taken her by surprise. Discomfited and her hands busy with gathering the reins, she had tried not to react, but knew her blush was all too evident.

They rode at a walk, in the direction indicated by the guide. The monk rode to her left, his posture in the saddle easier than hers, his shakujou strapped to the saddle with a makeshift harness. To her relief, Miyatsu did not try to carry on a conversation. They ambled down the path in silence. Kikyo wished that they could be moving faster, but she could feel the mare's slight limp. And her own leg was already throbbing, despite the care he had taken with adjusting the length of her stirrup.

They were crossing a meadow at midmorning when Miyatsu spoke in a quiet monotone. “We're being watched. Bird-youkai.”

Kikyo resisted the urge to look up. “There was a lesser youkai watching the village several days before she kidnapped him,” she replied, keeping her voice just as quiet. “Anything we can do?”

He was silent for several moments. “Pretend to faint.”

She blinked, trying to guess what he was up to, then decided to play along. She let herself sway, then called out, bringing one hand to her head, “Houshi-sama—” She leaned forward, over the saddle.

“Miko-sama!” He was at her side, an arm around her shoulder, his leg bumping against hers. She left herself go limp, leaning against him, but kept one hand on the cantle, ready to hang on for dear life if either of the horses spooked. She felt the horses move sideways off the path. Keeping her eyes open just a slit, she saw when they moved into shade. She heard water as the horses came to a stop. The arm supporting her shifted, folding her forward over the mare's withers. There was a whisper of power, and the mare went stock still. Kikyo waited, starting to feel a bit irritated with the length of the play-acting. Hands drew her gently down, and then she was lying on the grass, her straw hat removed. 

"Can I wake up yet?" she whispered, trying not to move her lips.

"A moment." He chanted something, and she felt his power stir again. His fingers touched her forehead, and her headache faded, just a little. "Miko-sama?" he asked aloud. "Miko-sama, are you all right?"

She made herself sigh, then let her eyelids flutter open. "Houshi-sama?" she said. "What-happened?"

"I fear you fainted," he said. "I told you I didn't think you were strong enough to ride yet.  Now lie still, and rest."

"I can't," she whined. "I told you. I have to find him. She'll kill him." She tried to get up; as expected, he pushed her down.

"You can't help him when you can't even sit a horse, Miko-sama. Now get some rest." He muttered a quick chant, which she recognized as a sleeping charm. She felt the shift in the energy, but it had absolutely no effect on her. Nevertheless, she pretended it did, yawning, starting to protest, then letting her eyes slide shut. Then she waited. And waited. She started to count, slowly. She was up to 80 when he sighed. "It's moving off. You can talk now."

"You can talk--explain what you were trying to do." She tried to keep the irritation she felt out of her voice.

"Two things," he said, shifting position. "First, I wanted to get some idea how much of a link that dark priestess has with that youkai. If she could only command it, it would probably have stayed above us just a short while, then gone back to her. But if she can link with it, she'd probably keep it around to observe us."

"Which it did," she stated.

"Yes--it actually came down pretty low--lower than I would have expected, if she suspected we'd noticed the youkai. The other thing ... misdirection."

Kikyo opened her eyes and looked at him. "About you?" she guessed. "You'd make a lousy healer monk, judging by the effects of those two spells."

He gave her a wry smile. "My uncle would have torn his hair out, trying to teach me, if he'd had any to pull. No, my strengths are in the offensive spells and purification sutras. Which is where your strength is as well, I'd guess?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I know a lot about healing, but not with spells," she said. "My arrows..."

"Someday, you're going to have to tell me why one of your arrows is already charged," he observed. "Finally, if she thinks you're in worse shape than you are, that may also help. Since I think we have to assume that there's no way we can sneak up on her, we have to use other means to surprise her."

Kikyo nodded, a sudden surge of grief knotting her throat. If that was Tsubaki's servant, there would be no way to surprise her, no way to sneak in and release Inuyasha, no way to confront her except when she chose. No way to stop whatever she was doing, that had the fire-rat robes burning with his despair. Inuyasha had needed her, and she hadn't been there to protect him. She had failed him. Again.

She tried to stop her tears. A hand touched hers. "It's all right to cry, Kikyo-sama," he said gently. "Here." He eased his arms under her legs and back, and gently lifted her to his lap, settling her head on his shoulder. "You love him and you're afraid for him, aren't you?" he continued. "You're a powerful miko, and such a powerful person is never supposed to show weakness, are they?" His voice was wry, as from one who knew as well as she did the expectations of others around them. "Well, you're a priestess who loves and is afraid, and I'm a monk who would rather feast and chase women, than meditate and pray; so if we reveal our weakness to each other, then no harm done, is there? To know that there's someone who doesn't expect--perfection."

Kikyo turned her face into his robe, and the hot tears came.

* * * * *

Tsubaki eased the link with the bird-youkai, smiling thoughtfully. So, Kikyo had recruited a monk to help her out. One whose strengths emphasized healing rather than fighting, from that scene the youkai had observed. She'd figured out Kikyo's trick the next day, when, vaguely dissatisfied, she had personally visited the site of Kikyo's 'death'. Kikyo had been clever, she had grudgingly admitted. Just not clever enough, especially as she had then apparently managed to have an accident and injure herself. Tsubaki had sent out scouts, and quickly located the miko. It had been a bit dismaying when the youkai had reported two strong sources of spiritual power. But she could think of ways to fight two opponents at once. And if the monk was only a healer, all to the good.

The hanyo cried out again, his voice babbling, almost incoherent in its pleas. Tsubaki frowned. She'd left the puppet and the broken hanyo alone since last night, after removing the spell that had made that final rape so terrible for the hanyo. She'd known then, that, left to her own erratic impulses, the puppet was apt to rape the hanyo at least once in the night, and the spell was physically too dangerous for a thing that had little concept of consequences. But the puppet had been constructed to 'pet' him, to be 'nice' to him, as often as she hurt him. And, while Tsubaki hadn't been paying close attention that morning, she could not remember any times of relative silence.

Sighing, she stood up, and walked to the other room. "Kikyo, stop," she ordered, as she stood in the entrance. "Get dressed, and stand in the corner."

The puppet made a low sound, almost like a growl, but obeyed. Tsubaki raised an eyebrow, studying the puppet. That little sign of rebellion should not have been possible. She would need to check on it, but it was also possible that the puppet was no longer needed, and could be destroyed. She turned her attention to the hanyo.

And frowned.

She had enjoyed breaking the half-breed. She had laughed at the hanyo's humiliation, and yesterday had reveled in his screams. Little had been more satisfactory, than having the once-proud hanyo groveling, begging for mercy, flinching from even a gentle pat. And she still anticipated the moment when she would tear the remaining youki from his body and kill him in front of the villagers he had saved. But this--

--Was waste. Was the useless pummeling of a broken toy, to no gain. The hanyo had lapsed into unconsciousness, both ears in tatters, his back bleeding from scores of slashes. He had curled in on himself in an obvious effort to protect his stomach and his privates, but his effort had been less than successful, she found as she reluctantly sat on her heels beside him and gingerly moved his hands aside. His skin was cold, his color was bad; his breathing shallow. Focusing on his aura, Tsubaki saw that it was not much stronger that it had been that first day.  

And it was her fault, she knew,  as she reached for a discarded cover and pulled it over his body. Standing up, she went over to the clearly-sulking puppet. One index finger touching its forehead, and a mental twist, and she was in full contact with the puppet's awareness. Immediately, she saw what happened. The link last night, allowing her to control the puppet and feel everything that happened in her own body, had been too close, and had worked both ways. The puppet had felt what she had felt, and remembered. The primitive life animating it wanted to replicate those feelings.  She had given the puppet no specific orders before going to sleep, and so it had felt free to act on that desire. But it was so limited in its understanding, that it had only grasped one way to get its desires, and had not at all understood the limitations of torture or the endurance of a hanyo's body.

Tsubaki grimaced to herself, annoyed and irritated. Dropping her hand, she met the sullen eyes. "You will let the hanyo sleep. You will not touch him while he sleeps. When he awakens, you will offer him water to drink, and you will call me. If he tries to escape, you will restrain him, but not harm him, and you will call me."

"Yes, mistress," the puppet muttered, a hint of rebellion in the dark eyes. Tsubaki touched the link again, then let it go with an mental sigh. The puppet would continue to obey her--for now. But the desire the puppet had discovered would grow, and with it, its rebellion. In some circumstances, a puppet filled with dark, selfish desires might be useful, especially given that the original was still alive. But, no. The situation was complicated enough, with the addition of the monk, and her intent to carry out her plans not here, in her own home, but in the village. Unless she could think of a good use for the puppet before she left, it would be best to destroy it.

Leaving the room, Tsubaki allowed herself to sigh, then turned her thoughts into another direction. Unless stopped, Kikyo and that monk were little more than a day's slow ride away. Unless she chose to confront them here, she must be ready to move by morning.

She had work to do.