InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Feni's Snippets ❯ Calligraphy ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. The vastly talented Rumiko Takahashi does, plus all the corporations she permits to hold his leash.

 

A/N: Written for the `Calligraphy' challenge at LJ's `FirstTweak' Inu/Kag community. Thanks to Forthright for the quickie look-see, as well as JR Maxwell and Ouatic-7 for their research.

 

According to my esteemed sources, hiragana characters weren't standardized until 1900. Before this time, 'i-n-u' would have had three separate phonetic symbols (it now has two), so the chances of a 'spelling mistake' would have been higher. I also suspect, like the creative spellings of Chaucerian or Elizabethan English, hiragana characters were likely subject to regional variations. Inuyasha's lady mother possibly formed the symbols differently from the monks at Mushin's temple; it doesn't mean that Miroku is 'wrong'... it just didn't look right to Inuyasha's eye.

 

Hiragana was the preserve of women and young children; The Tale of Genji was written in this form and due to its incredible, enduring popularity, acted to spread the use of hiragana amongst both women and men. Kanji, on the other hand, was the written language of men, since it was considered 'too difficult' for a woman to learn. Therefore, Miroku's primary written language would have been kanji, so he may be excused for making a 'mistake' in hiragana.

 

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“Wonder if the girls are done yet?” Inuyasha remarked, idly scratching his stomach as he lazed in the generous shade of the Goshinboku, his head pillowed carelessly on his arm as he stared up at the shifting patterns of the breeze-tossed branches.

 

“Shippo-kun would be undoubtedly annoying you by now if they were finished with their bathing,” Miroku replied from his spot several feet away. The hanyou turned his head just in time to see the monk pin down yet another ofuda with a fist-sized rock, and again wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of fresh ink.

 

“How many more of those are ya gonna write?” he asked, hoping that Miroku was almost done because he didn't really want to leave his comfortable spot due to an ink-induced headache.

 

“The ofuda are completed; now I must write the headman's letter, but that won't take long.”

 

“Make it quick, houshi.”

 

The monk hid a smile. “I will do my best to accommodate your delicate nose, Inuyasha.”

 

“Keh. Whatever.”

 

Peace descended for a short while as Miroku bent to his work, creating neat vertical columns of kanji that announced, in very formal terms, the marriage of the headman's daughter to the third son of the local petty lordship… until the monk grumbled under his breath, “How on earth am I to dignify the young lady's name with kanji when it only exists in hiragana?”

 

The hanyou, who was lost in contemplation of life, the universe, and much more importantly, the flavour of ramen on the lunch menu, rolled over and propped his chin on his fist. “Whaddya mean? Can't every name be written in kanji?”

 

“Not at all, Inuyasha. For instance, Lady Kagome's name has no kanji equivalent, so I would face the same problem if she was to wed someone of a noble house… like you, for instance… and a formal announcement was required.” Miroku kept his face perfectly straight, but his eyes twinkled as the hanyou suddenly became extremely interested in a blade of grass.

 

“Keh.”

 

The monk was struck by mischievous inspiration and swirled his brush through the ink as he selected a fresh piece of rice paper. Working quickly, he created a very impressive-looking document purporting to be `an announcement from the august Lord of the Western Lands regarding the marriage of the second son of the house, Lord Inuyasha, to the winsome Lady Kagome of'… here he had to pause and think, since `Lady Kaede's village' didn't sound very impressive, so he substituted the characters for the much grander-sounding `Eastern Capital' instead.

 

Setting it aside to dry, he wrote out a second copy of the `announcement' in hiragana while stealing covert glances at the hanyou, who had a far-away look in his eye and a slight smile playing across his lips. When the gloss had disappeared from the second document, he casually beckoned, “Come have a look at this, Inuyasha, and tell me what you think.” The hanyou shook himself as if awakened from a particularly wonderful dream and reluctantly trundled over. Miroku blandly commented, “It looks so much more elegant if done completely in hiragana, don't you think?” while gleefully watching Inuyasha's expression as he crouched down to peruse the papers.

 

There was silence for a very long moment. Miroku expected an embarrassed outburst of some sort, accompanied by name-calling and possibly death threats delivered before the flustered hanyou bolted for the hills, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Inuyasha cocked his head to one side, his gaze very intent as he scrutinized the papers one at a time, before tapping a long claw against the hiragana version.

 

“Ya used the wrong symbols for `dog', idiot, and Kagome's name doesn't look like that.”

 

Startled, the monk looked down as well. “What do you mean?”

 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Gimme the brush,” he ordered, snagging another piece of paper and pushing back his trailing sleeves. While Miroku watched, more than a little bemused, the hanyou neatly wrote his name and Kagome's side by side in flowing hiragana. “See? These are the symbols for `dog', and that's the way her name is supposed to look,” he said, flourishing the paper under the monk's nose.

 

“I see,” he confirmed, nodding sagely to cover his surprise. “Who instructed you in the art of calligraphy, Inuyasha?”

 

“My mother,” the hanyou grunted. “She and her ladies taught me hiragana, but she died before I learned kanji… except the symbols for my name, of course.” He stood up, shaking his sleeves back into place, and said in an offhand manner, “I'm gonna go hustle the girls along; I'm starving,” and stalked off in the direction of the river.

 

Miroku watched him go, more than a little deflated, then collected up the three pieces of paper, folded them neatly, and tucked them into his robes before continuing on with his task.

 

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Several weeks later, on the other side of the well…

 

“Kagome! Granddaughter! Come look at what I've found!”

 

The dark-haired girl sighed, looking at the pile of homework teetering on her desk, and called back, “I'm really busy, Ojii-chan! Can it wait?”

 

“I think you need to see this,” came her mother's subdued voice, and Kagome was sufficiently intrigued to abandon her geography text. Bouncing down the stairs, she just managed to not roll her eyes when she saw the musty old strongbox overflowing with documents taking up the centre of the kitchen table.

 

“More `valuable family treasures' from the storage shed?” she wearily asked.

 

Mrs. Higurashi had a most peculiar look on her face as she extended a neatly folded sheaf of very brittle-looking papers. “These are indeed extremely old, Kagome. They're dated nearly five hundred years ago.”

 

“Really? That's so cool!” She fairly snatched the sheaf and eagerly pried it open… only to stare, her jaw sagging, when she read the faded calligraphy.

 

“What is the meaning of this, Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi asked, noting her daughter's shocked expression. “There are two copies, a formal one in kanji and another one in hiragana, plus what looks like a practise sheet where the scribe had his work corrected.”

 

Kagome again read over the marriage announcement prominently featuring her name and a certain silver-haired hanyou's, and was at a complete loss for words. “I don't know,” she said faintly, and sat down rather abruptly. “I mean… he's never even kissed me!” she blurted out, helplessly waving the documents.

 

“Is he really of noble birth?” Grandpa wanted to know.

 

“Er, yes… his mother was a princess of Setsuna, I think…”

 

“It appears that he has plans for you, dear,” Mrs. Higurashi smiled.

 

“Oi, what the hell stinks in here?” Inuyasha appeared in the kitchen, holding his nose. Backing up a little when he registered the various looks directed his way, ranging from calculating to dewy-eyed to shyly eager, he demanded, “What?”

 

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