InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Tale of Ever After ❯ Chapter 214

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I do not own InuYasha or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi


Chapter 213


As the two miko and InuYasha headed to Tsuneo’s house, Miroku walked into the village.  The first person he saw was Hisoki, one of Toshiro’s many cousins.

“Ah, good morning, Houshi-sama,” Hisoki said. He had a hoe over his shoulder and a pack basket on his back.

“Off to the fields?” the monk asked. “It looks like a good day for it.”

“Looking to see what I can get done. I may check on my eggplant patch,” the man said, nodding. “It’s a little early to plant, but the ground needs work, I’m sure. But I was really thinking of mushrooms.”

“I wish you good luck with that,” Miroku said. “It’s supposed to be a very auspicious day.  Maybe you’ll find a good place.”

“I’ve got a secret place or two that usually have some by now. If I do, I’ll be sure to put a few aside,” the man said, smiling. “I know how much your woman likes them.”

“She does, indeed,” Miroku said.

“And after your help with that ghost that was haunting my okaasan’s house - well, I’m still grateful.”

Miroku bowed slightly. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“And we’re glad you’re here. Well, the day’s not getting any younger,” the man said, and nodding his goodbyes, he headed off for his field.

Smiling at the way the morning was turning out, Miroku headed west along the main village street. He usually stopped and talked with a few of the villagers every day.  Sometimes, as he did this, the people he visited would give him donations of food or other things for the temple, because it was considered good merit and all monks were expected to be supported by the people they passed by. A few, like Kimi, were grateful to have him in the village, because it had been a long walk to the nearest temple. Sometimes, others would stop him and ask for prayers and tell them their troubles, and a few, like Isamu and Susumu, seemed to just enjoy his company, or at least his love of gossip. He very seldom returned home without at least a piece of news to share with Sango.

At the moment, he didn’t spy anybody else out on the street, and stopped a moment to think of what to do next. “Maybe I should stop at Tameo’s,” he said. “I wonder how things are going with Seiji?”

Before he got that far though, his attention got drawn by the sound of loud giggling, the type girls do when they think grownups aren’t listening.

The sound came from the back of Kaede’s house. “Rin must still be at home,” the monk said.  “And from the sound of it, Tazu and Iya are there, too.  This must mean Miko-sama is out doing rounds.” A thought struck him.  He leaned his staff up against the wall of Kaede’s house and moved quietly, along the side of the building.

“I saw them coming - Obaasan and Emi and the children, so I asked Haha if I could come see you,” Tazu said. Miroku peeked around the side to get a glimpse of the girls, and Tazu looked quite proud of herself. “If I had asked even a little bit later, I bet I would be watching the little ones.”

“Emi-obasan and all the children from Tameo’s household were with them?” Iya asked. The girl’s voice sounded rather amazed.  

“All of them. Even Riki-obasan’s little boy,” Tazu said, with a nod. “I got away just in time.”

“Now that’s curious,” the monk said. His voice was too soft to be overheard.

“Aomi-chan is such a sweet little girl,” Rin said. She had her sewing in her lap and took a few stitches. “Rin likes to play with her.”

“But Mitsuo...you know how wild he can be.” Iya shuddered in mock fear. “He reminds me of my brother when he was little. Toshiki was a brat.”

“Ha!” Tazu said, grinning. “Remember what he did last week? He’s still like that.”

“That is interesting,” the monk said to himself as he leaned back against the wall of the miko’s house. “Why would all the children at Tameo’s be ushered over to Fujime’s place?”

There was another burst of giggles, and Miroku used that noise as an excuse to withdraw, pick up his staff, and head down the street towards the headman’s place.

He heard a voice singing, or rather yelling out a song before he reached the complex. The words intrigued him; he’d never heard that particular one before and he leaned against the gate to listen.

“If at night, you get close,
and her womanhood smells too bad to breathe,
Yoi, yoi, yoiya sa,
and it smells so bad you can’t breathe,
boil up some fish,
some nice salt fish,
and wash her well in the water.”

If at night, you get close,
and her womanhood smells too bad to breathe,
yoi, yoi, yoiya sa,
and it smells so bad you can’t breathe
even with the fish,
even with the fish, add pepper to the water.”

The monk looked into the courtyard. The only people that he could see about were Jun and Koichi, one standing, one sitting near the lockup building.

“The effects of bad singing,” the monk whispered. “I wonder how long he’s been at it?”

“Kuso,” Miroku could hear Jun say. His voice was strained and very irritated

“Too long, I guess, if he can make Jun that angry. Jun’s usually so patient.” As he watched from the street, the farm worker picked up something off of the ground and threw it through the lockup’s window.

“You missed!” Seiji’s voice from within the lockup sounded gleeful.  

“Keep it up, and I’ll be throwing more than dirt clods, you asshole,” the farmer said.

“Definitely too long,” Miroku murmured.

Koichi pointed to a water bucket, left out for the guards to slake their thirst. “Might try this,” he said. “Pouring water over cats that won’t shut up helps sometimes.”

“How about a bucket of cow piss? I bet we can find one of those.” Jun said. “Or maybe just dung.”

“Definitely plenty of dung in the back,” Koichi noted.

“Damn you two,” Seiji said. “Your turn’s coming.” The effect of his rant was broken though, as he started coughing, and hard.  

“If he keeps this up, he’s going to eventually run out of voice,” Koichi said, hopefully.  

“We should be so lucky.” Jun replied.

“Well that answers that question,” the monk said, “but I’m not sure I want to deal with that quite yet.” Turning, he headed back the way he started. “It would certainly spoil the plan I have in mind.”

To the west of Tameo’s place, it was much more quiet. Amaya, Isao’s mother, was not working in her garden for once. She, like Maeme, had laundry to do and at this moment, she stood by a clothes line, where she was hanging up a sheet she had just washed.  Like Seiji, she was singing, but the song that she chose was a totally different type than the locked up man was belting out. Her voice was sweet and not nearly as loud as she smoothed the cloth across the line.

“In a little house
underneath a pine tree,
the house with the wicker gate,
look at them working,
the old man and his wife,
the old man and his wife.”

Moving back to her laundry tub, she added a couple more garments to the water, and began rubbing them across her scrubbing stick.

“Heading for the hills,
his back stood straight
heading for his home,
his back was bent over
with a load of firewood,
a heavy load of firewood.”

She lifted the white under kosode she was washing, and looked at it.  Displeased, she dunked it back in the water.

“There you are, Haha-ue!”   

Turning around, she saw her son Hiroki walking up to her. He was carrying a large bundle on his back. It made him lean forward under its weight, much like the old man in the verse she just sang.

“I didn’t expect to see you! Tsuneo-ojisan said you’d be spending most of your time up there this week,” she said. She let the kosode slip back into the water, and stood up. “When did you come down? That’s a big bundle you’re carrying.”

“Pretty early this morning, right after breakfast. Chiya-obasan asked for some things,” he said in a resigned voice. “I’m her pack horse today.”

“Is Michio-sama sending all of her things over?” she asked, wiping her hands dry on her wrap skirt.

“I don’t think so,” the young man said. “I hope not. She sent me with a list. This wasn’t his doing. I don’t want to be making that many trips.”

“How is it going?”Amaya asked.

“She’s sad. She cries. She bosses me and Hana-chan around.” He tried to make a joke about it, but they both knew how Chiya behaved. “Sometimes, she even spins.”

“And...and that...that man?” she asked.

“He’s happy as a bee. He thinks he’s found his long lost family. It’s really rather amazing. No more stealing the pickle lid to chase monsters. No more panic attacks. At least not yet. It’s only been a day.” His voice signaled just how sure he was that it wouldn’t last.

“You be careful, son,” Amaya said. “I’m still not sure if this was the best idea.”

“Maybe it’ll turn out all right. At least Haname-obasan will be able to get some rest and quiet now.” Hiroki shifted his pack a little.

“Yes. And it’s been wonderfully quiet since they took him to the other place.”  Amaya sighed. “And Haname-obasan needs it.”

“Is she any better?” Hiroki asked, his eyes marked by real concern.  

“She’s...she’s holding her own..Maybe the quiet will help.” Amaya wrung her hands together, and catching it, she moved them to clutch her wrap skirt.

The youth sighed. “Maybe it will. I had better get to the river before Chiya-obasan drives Hana-chan crazy.”

Amaya nodded. “Take care, son. I’ll try to get up there sometime tomorrow.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky,” the youth said. “Maybe Michio-ojisan will come to his senses and we all can come home.”

“Maybe so.” Amaya managed to wrap her hands totally in the fabric of her wrap skirt. “Maybe so.”

Waving goodbye, the boy headed off to the river.

Amaya went back to her laundry. She picked up the kosode and looked at the spot that had troubled her before her son had walked up. Frowning, she rubbed it once more on her rubbing stick. “If this doesn’t come out this time, the sun’s going to have to bleach it. I have too much to do to deal with it now.”

She wrung it out, and started another, picking up her song again.

“In a little house
underneath a pine tree,
the house with the wicker gate,
look at them working,
the old man and his wife,
the old man and his wife.”

“She headed for the stream
a basket on her head,
it didn’t weigh a thing.
The basket was much heavier
full of wet clothes,
so full of wet clothes.”

She picked the kosode out of the tub and began wringing it out. “So true, that verse. Wet clothes weigh so much.” Once done, she walked to her clothes line, and hung it up.

“Hang them in the sunlight
let the breeze work,
there at the house
with the wicker gate
they move like warrior’s banners,
they dance like warrior’s banners.”

“We might not have a wicker gate, but let the breeze work anyway,” she said. Turning, she rested her hand on her back and stretched. Looking at the road that ran in front of the house, she noticed three figures coming up the way. “Must be time for a break. We’re about to have company.”