InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Tale of Ever After ❯ Chapter 272

[ 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 272

The sky was darkening as the group at Miroku’s house filtered out onto the verandah. On the tree that Miroku was fond of meditating under, there were bird calls and the whirring of wings as a small group of birds, slightly disturbed by the exit of humans into their visual space, settled down for the night. It would be hours before the moon would rise, but as the last bit of light faded, the first stars began to come out.

The monk hung his lantern on a hook on the porch. It was already able to cast a warm pool of light on Miroku’s face, although in the late twilight, there was still enough light for the adults coming out to find places to sit.

“It’s a lovely evening,” Koume said, pausing a moment as she came outside “And you have such a lovely view. Remind me to come visit you on better days, Sango-chan.”

“I’d like that,” Sango replied. “You should see it on a full-moon night, right after they flood the rice paddies.”

“If you can get a night between the rain showers,” Miroku said, smiling at his wife.

“There is that,” she said, nodding.

The two women took seats to the left of the door, Sango closest, in case she needed to get up to take care of her children. Fumio joined the monk next to the lantern and sat down, looking at the path down the hill.

“At least some people are having a good time tonight,” the blacksmith said.

“Let’s hope they are.” Koume shook her head, and made a gesture meant to chase away bad luck. “Chime’s worked hard to make tonight special for her son.”

“Funny how that works,” Fumio said. “Some people work so hard to make life a blessing for their children, and some people...”

“Some people seem to want to make their children’s life hell,” Miroku replied, sighing. “I’ll never quite understand that.”

“It happens often enough,” Sango said. Her hands twitched in her lap, as if they were uneasy with no sewing or cooking to do as she sat in the gathering dark.

“I know,” Miroku said, turning to look at his wife. “I’ve seen if often enough.” He shook his head. “But the why...why Seiji would treat his family like he does...I’ll never really understand how a soul gets that twisted. Was his father like that, too?”

Fumio shook his head. “No, no. Sadayori was a good man. He dealt fairly with people, and I never saw him even raise a hand to his boys.”

“It was losing his wife, I think,” Koume said.

“You might be right,” Fumio said nodding. He took his hammer out of his belt and lay it next to him. “When he lost her, the light went out of his life. Yoshimi was just a small thing, too, when it happened. She had gone to her father’s village, and never managed to come back.”

“Not the usual visit, either. She went off to spite him, if the gossip’s right.” Koume adjusted the knot on her head scarf just slightly, and looked off into the distance. “If Seiji gets his temper from anybody, it was his okaasan. She would get into these dark moods...but he loved her, and put up with it.”

“That sounds like Chiya and Michio,” Sango said. She stopped for a moment, as if she heard something, and then twisted around, and looked into the house. Seeing nothing that needed her attention, she turned back to her guests.

“Problems?” Koume asked.

“No, nothing. I just thought I heard one of the girls. They can be so hard to get to sleep some nights.” She settled back down, and rested her hands on her thighs. “Do you know a lot of people who do things like that, like Chiya and Michio, who have such big fights? I sometimes wonder about those two.”

Fumio chuckled a little. “I think we all do. But no,” he said, shaking his head. “I haven’t met many quite like that. I don’t think Seiji’s okaasan was quite like Chiya, either. She tried to keep more quiet about it, but maybe she got even more angry.”

“I just hope their story ends better than Sadayori’s did,” Koume said. “Even if they did try to keep it quiet, everybody gossiped about them. Sadayori and his wife had been arguing a lot before it happened.” She shook her head. “I think Chiya and Michio have gotten past the point of even caring about the gossip.”

“It seems like that,” Miroku said. He rested his chin in his hand. “But that were Sadayori and his wife arguing for?”

“The usual,” Koume said. “Something about Seiji. He was already starting to get into trouble.”

The blacksmith nodded. “He always was a handful, almost since he could walk. His okaasan wanted to send him to her ojisan’s, I heard. The man was a craftsman. He made wagons, and had raised three wild sons of his own who turned out all right. He had a reputation of knowing how to handle hot-headed young men, and he was willing, too, but Sadayori wouldn’t budge. He was the firstborn, so he needed to stay and help with the farm work. This went back and forth for a while, her mood getting darker and darker as he stood in her way about it. One day, he came home from working the barley planting, and although her boys were home, she was gone.”

Miroku tilted his head. “She ran off?”

“Indeed she had,” Koume said. “Maybe it would have been better if he had been angry enough to just let her go.”

“Maybe so, but that’s not how their destiny worked out,” Fumio said.

“What happened?” the monk asked.

“The smallpox,” Fumio said. “She came down with a very bad case. He went after her, but by the time he arrived, she had passed on. He even got sick. It was weeks before he got home, and when he did, his face was scarred and his eyes...” The blacksmith yawned. “Took the uncle she wanted to send Seiji to, as well. Sadayori always blamed himself for her running off. When he came back, he didn’t have what it took to control a boy like that. It looked to me that he spent most of the energy he had on repairing the damage his sons caused. He should have remarried, and found a tough woman, like my Koume here.”

“Bah, don’t try to saddle me with that man,” Koume said. “I’d have probably drowned him before he got too strong to fight back.”

“Today would have been a different day if you had,” the blacksmith said, smiling sadly at his wife.

“Truth,” the monk replied.


At Tameo’s household, things had grown rather quiet. Koichi had curled up into a little ball, lying on his side. The fire was burning low, mostly coals. Jun, cradling the empty sake jug between his legs, reached a bit wobbly towards the wood stack and snatched a stick which he tossed on the glowing coals.

“Need more light,” he mumbled, and reached for another stick. “Hey, Koichi, when’s the moon supposed to rise?”

Koichi didn’t answer. Jun poked him with the stick. The farmhand slapped at the annoyance, but didn’t look up. Jun poked again.

“Go away,” Koichi muttered. “Big damn mosquito. Go bite someone else.”

Jun poked him again. “You think that’s a mosquito?”

Koichi cracked an eye open. “You go away, too. Done celebrating.”

“Don’t think I’ll do it,” the other man said, tossing the stick in the fire as well. “Sit up. What type of watch are you keeping like that?”

“Watching that pretty dancer who works at the market,” Koichi said, slowly sitting up. He shook his head. “You chased her away with that stick of yours. And she was dancing just for me.” He rested his head in his hands. “She was smiling at me. And the old lady who holds her contract - she was nowhere around.”

“Ah, lovely woman,
dancing by the firelight,
you set this old man’s blood
racing as you smile,
I will give you a flower
to remember the power of love.”

“You should be so lucky, man. Never happen.” Jun moved the sake bottle to the side and stretched out his legs towards the fire. “Not unless you bring some good silver with you.”

“She does it for free in my dreams,” Koichi said, scowling at his companion. “Eager, too.”

A mocking laugh came from the lockup. “Only way a piece of trash like you can get a piece,” Seiji croaked.

Koichi started to wobble to his feet, but found the effort too hard. “Give me the jug,” he said.

“It’s empty,” Jun said. “Why?”

“I want to throw it at him,” the farmhand replied, reaching for it.

Jun grabbed it and moved it further away. “This poor jug doesn’t deserve that fate,” he said. “To get smashed on the wall or get contaminated by touching that piece of crap. You want to throw something, pick a rock.”

Koichi looked at the ground around him. “Can’t. I’ve already thrown them all.”

“Didn’t do you much good, did it?” Seiji said. “You’re just a lazy fat-assed farmhand.”

The night was darkening around them, and wove shadows around Koichi’s face that made him look feral in the small pool of firelight. He managed to get to his feet as he grew madder at the jibes. “I’ll show you - ”

“You’ll show him nothing,” an unseen and unheard voice said. A firm but gentle hand pushed Koichi down. The farmhand landed with an audible oof.

“Stupid feet,” Koichi said. “Must have tripped on them.”

“Don’t let anybody say Tameo doesn’t brew good sake,” Jun said. “It’s doing the job.”

Seiji started to laugh.

“And that’s enough out of you for now,” the voice said, and pointed a finger at the lockup. To Jun and Koichi, it looked like the fire had flared up for a moment.

“Bugs,” Koichi said. “Always burrowing into the firewood and sparking when you get burned up.”

But for those with spiritual eyes, a golden light had surrounded the lockup building briefly before pouring in through the barred window to wrap around the person inside. Seiji’s laughter died almost immediately as he began first to cough, and then to wheeze.

“Not too much,” said another unseen, unheard voice. “I know you’re not planning to choke him to death.”

Kazuo, the bearer of the first voice, turned to his companion. “Oh, it’s tempting, but that’s not, I think, his destiny. Maybe if we could have convinced his family kami to intervene...” Kazuo sighed. “Well, at least the land kami’s not fighting me on this one.”

Seiji’s breathing evened out.

“That’s better,” Daikoku said.

“It’s always better when he’s got his mouth closed,” the old kami said. “I guess we’ll have to continue on with the plan.”

“You’ll need luck to get it to all come together,” Daikoku said. “ Especially with players like these.”

“That’s why I asked you,” Kazuo said. “I’m a farmer. All I can do is plant the seed.”

“And pray for rain,” Daikoku said.

“Ah lovely woman,” Koichi said, staring at the fire.
“I will give you a flower
to remember the power of love.”

His voice trailed off, and his head dropped.

“Something like that,” the family kami said, rubbing his cap back and forth over his head.

Daikoku walked up to Koichi, touched him lightly with his mallet. An unseen cascade of sparks fell around the farmer. He couldn’t see anything, but he must have sensed something, because he jerked up the moment it happened.

“Sometimes, we can arrange that,” the luck god said, and walked over to Jun and did the same thing.

“One more place,” Kazuo said. “And then . . . ”

“And then we’ll see who gets lucky,” Daikoku said, smiling.

Together, the two kami disappeared into the night.