InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubaki's Revenge ❯ Revelations ( Chapter 22 )

 

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

 

Tsubaki's Revenge, Part XXII: Revelations

 

The fire crackled softly. Kikyo gingerly leaned her head back against the boulder, waiting for the water to boil, the shallow bowl she used for medicines in her lap. Her leg throbbed abominably, and her head was not that far behind. She was going to need strong medicine tonight to get some sleep. She hated the thought of it, as it would leave her groggy and unable to control her powers if an emergency came up. But Miyatsu had insisted that she take the potion, more concerned about her ability to keep traveling, if she failed to get sleep.

Rubbing one temple, she looked across the fire. Miyatsu was sitting in the lotus position, meditating, his staff lying crosswise across his thighs. She studied his face. So far, he'd been an excellent traveling companion. He'd said little on the ride; but then, neither had she. He was considerate and attentive of her injured position, but did not hover. Once he had found their campsite, he had carried her to this location and made sure she was comfortable, then promptly made sure she had tasks to keep her occupied, from selecting the food and preparing it for their meal, to cleaning the horses' harness, to setting her ward spells into four hand-length twigs, which he then set about the camp. It was a clever way to set her wards without having to actually walk the perimeter, and she'd been a bit surprised that it had worked. Once he had insisted that she prepare a pain and sleeping potion for herself, she had wondered aloud how he was going to know if anything touched the wards, since she had set them up, not himself. He had smiled and shown her a fifth bit of twig, which had come from the same branch as the other four. A very tiny bit of power from both of them, and any touch on the wards would resonate in the fifth twig, picked up by his power and alerting him. His temple, he had explained, when she asked, included techniques for monks working together, even to the point of merging their powers into a greater whole.

Her thoughts drifted to Inuyasha, and the one trip they had made together, to fight the youkai that had been raiding another village. Inuyasha, she remembered, had not precisely traveled with her, as much as he had traveled near her. He'd be in a tree above her one moment, bounding off ahead the next, coming back to follow several dozen steps behind her, then before she knew it, leaping off into another direction. He'd never quite gone out of sensing range, and he'd always come back, as if she were at the center of circle limiting his movements. The two nights she'd had to camp, he had come bounding in to drop a rough-butchered animal by her fire, only to disappear before she could thank him, let alone offer to share dinner. The night she had stayed in a village, he had disappeared as soon as it was clear she was entering the village, and had not reappeared until she had left it. The only time he had stayed close to her for any length of time had been the last day coming back, when it had begun to snow so heavily that she feared losing her way. He had dropped down beside her, practically forced her into his fire-rat kimono, then had walked ahead of her to break trail, wearing only the one thin layer of his inner kimono as protection for his upper body. The fire-rat kimono had been astonishingly warm, but by the time they arrived at her hut, he was soaked and covered the snow. He had tried to shrug off her concern and leave, but she had acted without thinking, grabbing his wrist and dragging him inside. She had told him in no uncertain terms that he was staying the night, and to her surprise, he hadn't argued.

Of course, he'd almost bolted after he'd unthinkingly dropped to all fours and shaken the snow and water off him, exactly as a dog would have done. Kikyo smiled to herself, remembering how red his face had gotten, when he had looked up at her and Kaede's yelps, and seen the splatters of snow on them and around them. Kaede's laughter, after the first shock, had made it even worse. Poor Inuyasha, she thought. That night, more than anything, had revealed to her how alone his life must have been; his embarrassment had clearly shown that he knew his behavior was inappropriate in human society. Especially after the way he had bolted down the first bowl of stew. He had learned human behavior, but had been alone so long that he had forgotten the habit. And cared enough to be ashamed at his mistakes.

"You are smiling, miko-sama," came Miyatsu's voice across the fire. "May one share in the reason for that lovely smile?"

She looked away. "I was just—remembering something about—my friend," she said, looking away.

There was a long moment of silence. “Kikyo-sama.”

Kikyo looked up, startled by the use of her name and the sudden reserve in his tone. Miyatsu looked at her over the fire, his face unreadable. “I think you should tell me about your lover.”

She paled. “I—” She looked away. “I just—I'd rather not—“

“Kikyo.”

She tensed, snapping her head back to stare at him, slightly angered that he had addressed her by her bare name. His eyes were black in the low light, and somehow they caught her gaze and held them. “Miko-sama,” he said, “I have given you my word to help you free your lover. If we succeed, then I will meet him, and I will learn what it is about him you fear to reveal. Therefore, there is no reason to refuse to tell me now. And I would prefer to know that there is a level of trust, and honesty, between two people who are going to be battle comrades.”

She blinked against the stinging in her eyes, and tried to find the core of the cool, remote miko she had trained to be. She failed. “I—he's not—my lover.” Not yet. “We haven't—everything's that's happened—“

“But you do love him. And there is some reason to be ashamed of this love?”

“No!” she burst out. “There's nothing wrong with him!”

“Then tell me his name.” His statement had the force of an order. She trembled.

“His name—” she swallowed. “His name—is Inuyasha. He's—he's a hanyo.”

 

* * * * *

Hanyo.

Miyatsu stared at the woman across the fire, appalled. This beautiful, strong-willed, and powerful priestess, was in love with a half-breed youkai? The hideous offspring of the most shameful act a human could perform with a youkai? “You love—a hanyo,” he stated, trying and failing to keep the revulsion out of his voice.

He saw her lift her chin. Tears streaked down her face, but having admitted her fault, she met his gaze. “I love Inuyasha,” she stated.

“Miko-sama,” he said slowly. “I have no doubt you care for this creature. But how can you love something so—so—inhuman?”

“He's not inhuman!” she snapped. “He's more human than some humans I could name!”

Her vehemence surprised him. “Miko-sama,” he tried again, “I'm sure he's been very—careful—around you. But how do you know you can trust him? How do you know, that he hasn't simply been trying to gain your affections, for his own base reasons?”

She glared at him. “Inuyasha almost died, to save eight people in the village, most of whom he didn't even know. He put his life in my hands when I'd already attacked him, thinking he'd betrayed me. He was willing to give up his youkai blood, willing to become human, for my sake, to help purify and destroy the Shikon No Tama. Are those reasons enough to trust him? Or is everything he does, everything he tries, count for nothing, because of what he was born? Of what he can't help being?”

Miyatsu opened his mouth, and then closed it as no argument came to him. He studied the young woman, mind trying to grapple with what she had said. A hanyo, morally capable of sacrifice? That wasn't possible, was it? Everyone knew what hanyos were—the filthy, degraded offspring of two beings who had blackened their own souls by their unforgivable behavior. Hanyos were the weak, contemptible combination of the worst of both their parents. The best fate that could befall a hanyo was a merciful death at their birth, before they had a chance to spread their corruption.

She stared at him, angry and defiant. She had ridden out on her own to save a hanyo from a dark priestess. She had insisted on continuing the search, even after injuries that should have kept her off a horse for at least a moon. Her spiritual power was perhaps the equal of his. She had been entrusted with an object to which legend had attached awesome powers.

And she loved a hanyo.

A half-breed.

He closed his eyes, finally, lowering his head. “Miko-sama,” he said softly. “Forgive me. What you say seems impossible. Yet I know you are not lying. To think that a hanyo could do what you describe—I find it difficult to accept.”

“I won't—hold you to your word, houshi-sama. If you can't accept helping to rescue a hanyo from a human priestess, then I'll do it on my own.”

Miyatsu looked up sharply. “Miko-sama, I do not go back on my word!”

She gave a slight nod. “But you didn't know what you were offering. I should have had the courage to tell you the truth before you offered to help me.”

He gave her a twisted smile. “Miko-sama, if I give my word to a beautiful woman who hides a secret, it is entirely my fault if I do not like what that secret turns out to be.”

“But—“

He held up a hand. “Miko-sama, I will not go back on my word.” He sighed then, shoulders sagging a little. “Your words challenge what I thought I knew. I must acknowledge that what I think I know, may be wrong. I will meditate on this. Please forgive me, for not being able to immediately accept what you have said.”

She nodded, losing her tense, angry look. “I forgive you, Miyatsu-sama.”

 

* * * * *

 

Tsubaki leaned back from her worktable. So. Kikyo was as stubborn as she had always been, not stopping until sunset, despite barely being able to stay in her saddle without assistance from that monk. If they started early, and kept the same pace, they would be at the hidden path to her hut by late afternoon. With their powers, they would have no problem discovering the path and finding her place.

It would not be that hard to kill them while they slept, or destroy them as they attacked. But that would not be satisfactory. There would be no witnesses to her victory, no one who could pass on the word to powerful. There would be rumors, of course, but who would know for sure?

Kuroshin, of course, would council her to take the surest course.

She sighed, wishing that he were still around. He would have prevented that mindless puppet from nearly killing the hanyo. He would have objected to the risk of linking herself so deeply with the puppet, but still. She could so use a discussion with the shikigami on the most appropriate way to destroy the monk and Kikyo. She could almost hear his quiet, passionless voice raising objections, dissecting the dangers and opportunities, offering alternatives which hadn't even occurred to her—

Mistress. The hanyo is awake.

The sullen thought brought Tsubaki back from her reverie. “Thank-you, Kikyo,” she said, getting to her feet. She would check on the hanyo, it being better to trust her own eyes at this point, than to trust the puppet.

She found the puppet kneeling next to the hanyo, a petulant expression on her face, and a bamboo drink container in her hand. “He does not want to drink, Mistress,” said the puppet, looking up, a flicker of avarice in the dark eyes. “I should punish him.”

“No.” That slipped out before Tsubaki even really took a look at the hanyo. What she saw took her by surprise. His body was wracked with spasms. Sometime during the afternoon, he had kicked off or otherwise pushed away the cover, and she could clearly see the muscle twitches flowing over his limbs, his torso, and even his head. His ears were in manic motion, fresh blood oozing out of the caked slashes.

It must be an effect of the poison, she thought, as she invoked the paralysis spell in his collar. His body, below the neck, went limp, but his ears kept up their rapid dance. The hanyo whimpered, tears gathering in his barely-open eyes. “P-p-ple-as-s-s-e,” he whimpered, the spasms affecting his speech with all the rest, “s-s-st-stop. H-h-hurts-s-s.”

Considering expanding the paralysis spell to include his entire body, Tsubaki dismissed the notion with a headshake. Plucking the tube from the puppet's hand, she knelt by the helpless hanyo. With her free hand, she touched his forehead, determining that he was, as she had expected, running a fever. Pulling him onto his back, she braced his head up with her free hand, and then wedged the end of the short, slender drinking spout into his mouth, past his dried, chapped lips. “You will not like the alternative if you do not drink,” she told him, angling the container so that water flowed slowly.

He tried. It was a long, messy process. The spasms jerked his mouth from the spout, spilling the water. He had trouble swallowing, and more than once the water trickled down the wrong pipe, igniting a spell of racking coughs. When half the container was emptied, Tsubaki decided it would have to suffice for now. Letting his head down, Tsubaki rocked onto her toes, shifting position to pick up the discarded cover and pull it back up over the limp body. Standing up, she looked at her hand, and grimaced for the streaks of dried blood on her palm.

“Mistress.” She looked over at the puppet. “I want him.”

“No.” Tsubaki backed up her negative with a touch of power, and saw the puppet flinch. “The hanyo needs rest. He needs to be able to travel before Kikyo and that monk get—”

She stopped abruptly as she realized what she had just said in the hanyo's hearing. “Just let the hanyo be,
she continued firmly. “His youkai blood needs time to clear out the poison in his body, and I can't let you play with him until it does. You may return to the corner, and wait.”

Tsubaki left the room as the puppet obeyed, not quite daring to look behind her. The hanyo had been barely conscious. Even if he had heard her words, he might think it just a fever dream. She didn't want him to figure out that she had been mistaken, when she had told him Kikyo was dead.

She didn't want him to find hope.