InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Tale of Ever After ❯ Chapter 248

[ 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 247


Sango looked at the back room of her house. She was rocking Naoya, who had just finished feeding, and although he watched the room with sleepy eyes, something, possibly his mother’s tension, was keeping him still awake. Or perhaps it was the soft sobs coming through the back room wall, as Nakao talked with his mother. Kaede’s gentle voice, the words too faint to be made out, nonetheless sounded reassuring.  

Koume looked away from the back wall and down at her hands. She wiggled her fingers and sighed, as if their emptiness was distressing. “If I had thought,” Koume said, “I’d have brought my sewing.”

For some reason, this struck Sango as funny, and she laughed softly, a nervous, almost brittle sound, but one that was not meant to scoff. “It’s funny you mentioned sewing. On a normal day, Rin-chan and Kagome usually come here this time of day, and we all sew together.”

“Sewing together is good,” Koume said. “I’m glad to hear you three are doing that. I think women stitch more than their clothes together when they do that. It might sound funny, but we sort of stitch all our lives together when we sit and work like that.”

Sango put her son down in his basket cradle. He gurgled as she did, and waved a hand in front of his face, but made no real complaint. That done, she walked across the room to her storage cabinet, took out her sewing basket, and some length of cloth cut into towel lengths.

“I like how that sounds,” Sango said. “I don’t have anything fancy to work on, but if you’d like to keep your hands busy, I’ve got these towels cut out to hem.”

“I’d like that,” Koume said. “I’m not good at just sitting and waiting.”

The taijiya shook her head. “Me either.” She handed the older woman a piece of the cut cloth and pulled out her pincushion and thread winder. “So,” she said, measuring out a length of thread, cutting it, and deftly threading a needle, which she passed to Koume, “How do you think all this will work out?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Koume said. “But I wouldn’t want to be in Seiji’s shoes tomorrow.”

“We might have to stitch him in place,” Sango said.

This amused Koume. “We just might. And there’ll be a lot of hands willing to thread those needles.”

“I bet you’re right.” Sango threaded her own needle. ”We might just have to have a sewing party.”


While Koume and Sango stitched, Kagome looked around the mostly vacant room that she shared with her husband, holding the bucket of mop water in one hand. True to his word, InuYasha had gone back to his wood pile, and she could hear the sound of a piece of wood getting the axe. It was sort of a dull sound, but had started to become a comforting sound to her - one of the sounds that she thought of as home.

“I’d rather hear that than traffic noise,” she said, walking to the back of the room and kneeling down. She dipped her cloth into the bucket, and wrung it out, and started mopping, making round sweeps of her arm as she moved across the wood.  

“Mama isn’t as lucky as I am,” she said, moving her bucket and her body to the right. “She doesn’t get to move the furniture outside when she decides to clean. At least not most of the time.”

She paused in her work, and thought of the kindly faced woman she had known all the days of her life. “I wonder what she’s doing right now. Lunch is over. I wonder if she’s gone to her lady’s circle.” Stopping for a moment, she counted the days. “When everybody uses a ten-day system, it gets hard to remember what day of the week it is,” she murmured. “Nope, that must have been yesterday. I hope they did something interesting. No matter what, it wasn’t as crazy as today has been for me.”  

She ran the cloth over another section of the floor. Small tendrils of homesickness started to wrap around her, and she worked harder. “No, I’m not going to do that one today.” She moved the bucket again, “Mama gave me her blessing. Daughters always leave their home and move out. I chose this life.” She sighed, and began scrubbing with more vigor.

Suddenly, InuYasha let out a small string of curses as something didn’t go the way he wanted it to. She looked up in the direction she knew he was in, and smiled. “Besides, that place doesn’t have something I would miss even more than seeing my family.” Tipping her cloth back into the bucket, she began singing what had become her floor washing song, since the first time she mopped out this little house:

“Why does the crow caw
flying over the mountain,
kawaii, kawaii
hear her calling.”

“Noisy bird,” InuYasha said from outside. She laughed and went on with her work.



As Kagome cleaned house, Hisa walked with the amused but slightly embarrassed Shinjiro into her family’s compound.

“Where is everybody?” Shinjiro asked, looking into the grounds and seeing none of the usual activity.

“All the children went to Fujime-chan’s for the day,” Hisa said. “Our...guest...has been rather vocal this morning. Songs you wouldn’t hear in a brothel. And loud.”

As she passed the lockup building, she noticed that Koichi and Jun were no longer there. Kinjiro was sitting on the ground playing some game with Hougen, another of the farm workers. Aki, not far away, was busy stacking firewood.

But in spite of that, it was blissfully quiet.

Not willing to disturb the silence and tempt fate, she merely waved to her son as she passed by, bringing her finger to her lips and pointing at the lockup. Kinjiro nodded and sat back down.

“It’s so much nicer than this morning,” she whispered to Shinjiro. “I don’t want to tempt fate with any loud sounds.”

The two of them headed straight to the main house, which was also silent, and for the moment, empty - no children, no women, and no Tameo around.

“Tameo-sama’s not here?” Shinjiro asked as Hisa busied herself, packing things she had fixed for the wedding in a large basket - things wrapped in bamboo leaves, two jars, and something that smelled strongly of spice that was put away in a wooden box.

“No, it doesn’t sound like it,” Hisa said. “Let me get these last things put in, and we’ll go see if he’s in the office.”

Putting two more of the bamboo-wrapped tidbits in the basket, she covered it all with a bright red and blue cloth. “Do you still like my chimaki?” she asked Shinjiro, picking up the basket.

“You make the best, Hisa-obasan,” Shinjiro said. “Hah-ue would always get irritated with me when she knew I had talked one out of you.”

“You always were showing up around here,” she said. “But I knew what you were doing. Still, I hope I made enough for you tonight.” She flashed him a slightly naughty smile. “I hear they are good to eat after...well, strenuous activity. You might find them handy.”

Shinjiro flushed.  “Hisa-obasan...”

“I know, I know,” she said, leading him to the door. “First Eiji and Haruo, and now me.” She laughed. “But I know mine really work! I’m not so sure about whatever that was they handed you.”

He grinned, still embarrassed as she opened the door and stepped outside. He pulled the little bottle out of his sleeve, and looked at it, and putting it up near to his ear, he gave it a shake. “I guess I’ll find out later tonight.” And grinning even larger at that thought, he hurried outside to catch up with her.



Like all houses in the village, Miroku’s house was made of wall posts connecting to heavy roof beams that ran across the open space of the house. The ghost of Sadayori sat on one, looking down on his grandchildren and his daughter-in-law. Maeme seemed small and very fragile to him as she lay there on her side. Nakao held her hand, and was talking in soft tones as he stroked her hair. She tried to answer him, and forced a smile from time to time, but the smile never reached her eyes. They had that emptiness that those without hope get. Sukeo, his eyes almost as hopeless, sat at the head of the bed, looking at the far wall without really seeing, lost in his thoughts.

Kaede sat across from Nakao, adding something to a medicine cup.

“Are you sure she didn’t get hurt in the river?” Nakao asked. “I heard too many stories about the big catfish who swims there. He scares me.”

“He didn’t get near me, son,” Maeme said.

“Stupid,” Sukeo said, breaking his trance, frowning at his brother. “Grandfather Catfish only eats bad people. Is Haha-ue bad?”

“I just wanted to know,” the younger boy said.  

“Your okaasan didn’t get hurt by anything in the water,” Kaede said. “Now we just let this cup sit a moment and the medicine get strong.” She put her medicine cup on a small table Sango had brought in.

“My poor family,” Sadayori said.  “I...I...I...I wish...”

Suddenly, he was no longer alone on his perch on the roof beam. “You wish what?”

The ghost turned to see Kazuo’s smiling face. “That I could take these last few years away from them. Look at poor Maeme-chan.”

“I know, I know, friend,” Kazuo said, nodding sympathetically. “Sometimes, though, the wheel of destiny has to turn to get people to the point they need to be. Your grandsons have been given lessons they’ll carry on in life. Don’t know what they’ll do with it. The gods of destiny only let me see a little bit ahead. And we’re all free to do what we want with these life lessons. Seiji fell in love and got rejected, and turning into a big mass of anger. He was just as free to learn sympathy for those in pain.”

“Bah,” Sadayori said. “I could have told them that he’d have reacted that way years before it happened.”

“We don’t usually buck our destinies, and choose the other path,” Kazuo said, “but while we’re alive we have that option...at least at times.”


Nakao began to sing a song:
“Sing, little sparrow,
sing because the snow is gone,
the breeze is now warm
the flowers are now blooming
yoiya sa.”

This made Maeme smile, and a little light touched her eyes. “Ah son, you remembered that one. I used to sing it to you when you were little. I always liked it. You were my little sparrow.”

“I know, Ha-ha.” He gave his mother a smile. “You told me your obaasan sang it to you. It was your gift to me to pass down. So I never forgot it.” It made the bruises on his face stand out a bit, and she reached up a hand and gently brushed the injury.

“This one has a gentle heart, in spite of what his life has been,” Kazuo said. “He has made different choices than his otousan.”

The boy started the next verse.

“Sing, little sparrow,
sing because the summer comes,
first the gold barley,
then comes the rice planting
yoiya sa.”

Sukeo watched the two of them and moved next to his brother, and wrapped an around him, joining in the next verse.

“Sing, little sparrow,
early in the morning time
I will sing with you
as I walk in the sunshine,
yoiya sa.”

“Funny how people’s choices affect so many around them,” Kazuo said. “Even a boy like Nakao.”

Sadayori nodded.

“Choices and destiny. By tomorrow, we’ll know which path your son will choose: the dark or the light,” Kazuo said. “The expected or the unusual turn.”

“He’s been predictable since he was seven,” Sadayori said.

“I’m betting on that,” the kami replied. “I’m betting on that.”