InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Tale of Ever After ❯ Chapter 336

[ 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 336

Chiya sat in the old second son's house in her place by the spinning wheel her father Tsuneo had forced her to stay in, watching – not that there was much to look at in the place she was in. Still, it was better to look than dwell on the thoughts swirling in her head. After a day being forced to confront what she had done to her life, and then an afternoon filled with dreams of love and her husband, only to wake up to the sad reality she was in, she preferred staring to thinking.

To an outsider peering into the little house, it would have looked like a pleasant enough place. It was small, larger than the second son's house that Yoshimi had been living in, but smaller than the second son's house that Eiji made his home in. It was actually just about the same size building as InuYasha called home. There was a cheery fire burning in the fire pit lighting the interior and driving off the cool. The sound of rain falling and dripping off of the roof made a pleasant, calming sound. To add even more light, Hana had lit a lamp. Content to sit in a corner, the teenager worked on some sewing and hummed very softly to herself, too soft for Chiya to make out over the sound of the rain.

As a second son's house, it was not nearly as large as her parents' house, or even the house that she and Michio shared with her father-in-law, the type of house that belonged to a farmer who owned his lands, but it was built solidly, not like some of the homes of some of the less important people in the village. It was built well, and Tsuneo had maintained it well, of fine carpentry, with no sagging anywhere in the roof line, but it befitted its station, built to house the son who was important to the family, but not the heir, and thus rather small. The important things of the family, like the tools and the family loom and other goods would be in the main house. This night, the difference hit Chiya strongly and in the smallness she could feel the walls closing in on her.

She studied the room carefully, almost as if looking at it for the first time. Most of what had come with her fit in a single chest – kosode and scarves, an extra wrap. Her sewing basket and box of cosmetics, her comb and mirror resting on an otherwise empty shelf. In the back of the house, Hana had laid her bedding out, a bag stuffed with rice straw with a quilt to cover her. Her eyes didn't linger much on the bag of straw - this was what most people here slept on. Futons were expensive and rice straw was cheap, and few lay on anything more elaborate. That was just the type of bed she and Michio used. But her eyes did linger on the quilt, which had been a gift from her husband after the birth of their daughter, made of fine cotton and silk. She had been surprised, almost frightened when Hiroki had brought it with the rest of her things, amazed that Michio had let it out of the house. Even several years of use hadn't really dulled it much and it was more valuable that most of her kosode.

She had been so proud the day he gifted it to her, a love token she hadn't asked for, showing it off to every woman she could, more proud of the quilt than she was of her infant daughter, a fact that got her a prompt scolding from Haname, but for a time she felt very loved and wanted.

"Why did you send it over, Michio?" she asked herself, softly. "Because you knew how much I loved it, or was it because you regretted ever giving me something you knew I loved?"

There was, of course, no answer, except the anxiety in her heart and a deep swell of regret.

Nearer at hand, there were bundles of hemp to spin, and a basket half filled with thread she had already spun. There was a small table. It held the basket Benika had brought, filled with a few treats her friends had sent over. A few cushions. This domestic clutter gave it the appearance of a lived in space, a used area, but not a home. No pots were stacked near the fire pit except for water kettles. There were no dishes waiting to be used for meals. No barrels for rice or containers for dried foods. No children's things. No husband things. At that thought, she gave a long sigh. Her body ached remembering her husband's touch, the way his breath would tickle her ear, how he would pull her close at night when they slept.

"Do you miss me, Michio?" she whispered. "It's only been a few days. Have you begun to miss how I would reach out and touch you when the children were fast asleep?" She shifted uncomfortably, and reached out for a handful of hemp. "I probably shouldn't think of that right now."

She sighed and turned the spinning wheel, drawing out a thread. Hana glanced up from her sewing, then went back to her work, paying the older woman no real mind. The two of them had run out of small talk the first day she was here.

"I'm sorry you're stuck here with me tonight," Chiya said. Her voice hung heavy in the air.

"I don't mind," Hana said, her voice carefully neutral. "I like the quiet."

Chiya was well aware of what the girl thought of her, and how she would have chosen to be almost anywhere else. It was only Tsuneo's assignment that kept her here.

"Quiet," Chiya said. "So much quiet." Her voice was also careful as she wound the thread back on the spindle, before drawing out the next. "And I used to complain about the noise."

Continuing her spinning, she thought about what her mother had said, about sending Michio a letter. Maybe she would have a talk with Hiroki tomorrow. She began to think about what she could say.

 

Up on the hill on the other side of the village, it too was mostly quiet at that same moment except for the sound of rain and water running off the roof, but the feel in that small house was much different. Small and only one room like the house Chiya was staying at, as solidly built, if much newer than the one by the river, it was not just a living space or workshop, a building housing two people who sat in the evening in awkward silence, but was clearly a home with all the little touches of supplies and furnishings that said here was a family no matter that it was a small one, including laughter and two people who were very clearly happy to be living together.

To keep that feeling of contentment going, InuYasha studied the wood in the fire pit, and used a metal poker to shuffle the coals and burning pieces of wood into a pattern that he studied for a moment, and then, pleased with his work, he began to thoughtfully place unburned logs in the pit, both around and on the burning wood.

Kagome, from her place on the futon, giggled a little at his careful work.

"What's so funny?" InuYasha asked.

"You," she said, giving him a bright smile. She sat up from where she had been laying down on the futon, letting the quilt fall away from her. "I know I don't build a fire as well as you do, but I don't know if I've ever seen anybody look so seriously while they take care of the wood in a fire pit."

He grinned at her. "You'll thank me later, when I don't have to get up in the middle of the night to take care of it," he said. "I just didn't want to hear you complaining to me about how cold you get when I do that."

"It gets cold when you get out of bed," she replied. "I don't complain. It's just true."

"Oh?" he asked. "What do you call what happened last night?" He carefully added some pine wood to the fire. As it caught, it started to burn with a bright, clear light, brightening the room. "I seem to remember how you dived onto me and told me if I was gone that long again you were going to take my fire rat and never let me wear it again."

"It was late," Kagome replied. "You sort of woke me up when you got up. I got cold. You're lucky I was so sleepy or I would have, too. You took forever to get back to bed."

"No longer than I usually take." He tossed on one more piece of pine. "And that is why I'm making sure the fire will burn a good long time." He turned to glance at her with such a look of mock indignation that she started giggling again. "And this time, I'll make sure my clothes are in a safe place."

She laughed again as he stood up and brushed the ash off his hands and clothes. Slowly, he moved to the wash basin. "Toss me a towel, will you?" he asked. "Don't know where the last one got off to."

Standing up and walking to the cabinet, she found a new one. "I used it to mop up the bath water," she said. "We really splashed more than normal." Kagome sighed. "I guess I'll have to do laundry tomorrow. This is the last one."

Not sure of what to say to that piece of news, he said nothing in reply as he took the towel from her hand, but quickly washed his hands and face. Looking back at Kagome who was watching him with anticipation as he hung the towel on its peg near the basin, he turned and began a calculated stalk back to their futon.

First, he took off his fire rat, folding it and laying it on the clothes chest flexing a little extra as Kagome watched. His grin moved into a smirk."Maybe that'll be far enough to keep out marauding miko hands," he said.

"Maybe," Kagome giggled. "Wouldn't need to grab it if someone stayed in bed so I didn't get cold."

"You'd get even colder if I didn't make sure about the fire," he said, then slid out of his hakama, and placed them on top of his jacket. He noticed how her eyes went to his legs, and he pranced toward where she was standing with slightly exaggerated movements. Finally, he unfastened, but didn't step out of his under kosode.

Kagome watched his strip show with some interest, leaning back against the large cabinet as he disrobed, but as he dropped his hakama, she took that as a signal and walked over to him, resting her hands on his chest.

He leaned over her, catching both hands in his much larger ones as he gave her a small kiss."See something you like, woman?"

"Hmm," she replied. "Could be. What about you?"

He reached for the obi that kept her kosode closed. "Maybe if I could see, I might tell you." With a slight tug, he pulled the bow loose, and let the thin white tie flutter to the ground. Kagome had not fastened the inner flap after her bath, and the garment fluttered loose, like his did. His hands went to the cloth and pushed it to the side.

The firelight reflected warm colors on the revealed skin, the curve of her breast, the warmth of her tummy, the inviting patch of dark curls between her legs. "Definitely see something I like a lot."

Kagome's hands slid under the folds of the cloth of his own garment, drawing him close, letting her fingers find the small of his back, pulling him close to the bare warmth of her own skin. He cupped her face in his hands, brushed his lips against hers, a gentle kiss that quickly grew heated.

"I think," Kagome said, after they separated for a breath of air, "that I need to lie down."

"Good idea," he said, and picking her up like she weighed no more than a feather, he cradled her in his arms and carried her over to the futon, where they continued what they had started, until a good bit later, as the fire burned down into carefully planned coals, they both fell into a deep, contented sleep.