InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Priestess ❯ Troubled Minds ( Chapter 1 )

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any ideas created by Rumiko Takahashi.

CHAPTER 1: Trouble minds

"So, you see, Michiro-sama," the words rang out lazily. The nasal voice burned Michiro's ears, as she sat facing her father's advisor with an expression of haughty indifference shuttering her features.

"…It is important that you do not pester your father anymore with your insignificant qualms. He is a sick man, and he does not need the weight of your demands upon his head as well as illness." He was implying that he felt bored by being her caretaker- that she was just a blip on the scheme of things rather than the esteemed daughter of his liege.

She shot his words back at him with a hooded glare, wondering why her father had ever entrusted his welfare into the hands of such heartless and brainless fellows as these. Still withered as they were during that funeral four years ago, yet a skin-crawling mix of agelessness and greed. She longed for the day when she could be rid of their self-serving rule on the dying man's estate.

The miko, shrouded in the traditional dress of a Shinto priestess, outwardly calmed her self. She looked down her nose at him, trying to portray condescendence in the same fashion that he had shown her. "May you be rewarded thousands of lifetimes of happiness for your service with my otou-san, Shinjiru-san. I understand that my father is not faring well….but if I could only see him……perhaps….."

He fanned her suggestion away as if it was something rotten that was assaulting his nose. "No, no, miko-sama, you have already done enough here. Your silly rituals and praying are of no assistance anymore to okayata-sama. He craves no help from you anymore. You are just as well to tend to your silly little shrine duties and leave the poor man be!"

Michiro's nostrils flare with indignance as she comprehended what lies the old bat was purporting to her. "To tend my shrine and leave my father alone? Have I no right as his only child to stand by his side or to converse with him? I am not a servant that you can oppress with threats or with bondage, Shinjiru!"

"But, I am sure you see the necessity of not bringing anymore grief to his already troubled mind…."

"Troubled mind…. If my father's mind is troubled by anything, it is by the way you have holed him up in that stuffy room and allowed his illness to fester." Michiro entertained a picture of her fist puncturing that self-satisfied face, as she would run to comfort her sick father.

But, realizing that her usual battle was lost for today, she rose from the floor, and fixed the advisor with a scorching look again.

"May you be damned for eternity if you do not take heed of my words. All of us will be killed if you do not pay mind to the outside world. The youkai are warring with each other. My miko power cannot sustain more than a scant barrier around this mansion. If we don't do something to protect ourselves- if I cannot speak to my father of this matter….we will all be dead in the wake of an attack." With that, she hurried out into the long hallway, leaving Shinjiru with a flabbergasted expressing shadowing his thinned brow.

She escaped quietly into the shelter of the shrine, immediately flinging her body at the foot of the altar, where the incense still burned for Michiro's deceased mother. That dream of her mother, swathed in the breath of a thousand flowers caused the miko to re-light the sweet-smelling substance whenever the flame died.

She never wanted the memory of her sweet okaa-san's light touch or graceful ways to fade. Her life had lost some luster the moment of her mother's death, and she was loath to forget that soul-consuming pain. Why did death have to fall in this manner on both her parents? Why should she be left alone, so young, as the last heir to the Hakeda estate? Only the gods knew for sure…..

Bowed and huddled on the floor, the sleeves of her hakama spilling over the scrubbed wood, Michiro wished that she could see her father one last time before he, too, was just another soul to send to the heavens. It had been months since the advisors had even let her past the heavy curtain to look upon his face. If she could just speak to him, she would have so much to tell.

A potential danger was looming over the courtier's estate. The youkai were waging war against one another for land purposes. And, these youkai weren't just the everyday small and cowardly creature or spirit guardian- they were the lords of the lands- they were astounding in their grace and beauty, yet their battles were brutal, powerful and ruthless. The demons rarely took notice of human settlements when they warred, unless it was for the purpose of eating them. Humans were lowly. Humans wouldn't interfere with battles of this scale. Humans and demons did not interact in any way except through fighting and death.

Michiro knew quite well from her rare dealings with the powerful youkai, that the safest place for the people was as far away as they could get from the battleground. Acidic spit and torrents of flame that covered every bare piece of flesh and ground were things that not even her miko powers could withstand. She would rather her father pass peacefully than drowned in the poisonous wastes of these dreadful creatures. She also had a fervent amount of care for the families that served under the Hakeda, and would not dream of causing them pain.

She sat back on her haunches, absentmindedly watching the smoke from the incense curl up towards the sky, folding her hands among the billows of her white and red robes. When she trained her ears, she could make out faint echoes of rumbling or pounding from the forest that spanned many miles adjacent to the estate. The demon lords were growing restless.

As she sat, poised and straining for new noises, her mind drifted to more thoughts of her father. She puzzled deeply over the fact that she was prevented from contacting him.

--What advantage do otou-san's advisors have in keeping me from him? They act as if they were afraid that father will do something about that battle. Damned cowards.--

Her expression hardened again as new ideas began spinning around with the old ones. --It's as if………..It's as if they are waiting for him to die…the old weasels want nothing more than to be granted the entirety of his fortune when he passes.-- She screamed at them in her mind.

-- They care nothing for otou-san's welfare- only of his money. They would do anything….even bar his family from him, in order to get their way.--

Every muscle in her body tensed as she thought up something else.

--If they would do anything for his money and power, would they……murder him?--

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Hakeda Michiro was a beautiful girl, already blossoming into a gorgeous woman.

Just turned eighteen, she had developed the astounding peaked sweetness of her mother, the graceful limbs and thick black hair. She had gained her dark flashing eyes from her once-powerful father. She was slender, and delicate, yet the strength of a miko swirled, untamed, beneath the surface of her personality. From her loving and nurturing parents, she received the gifts of caring, humor, patience, humility, understanding, persistence and an unbridled ferocity. She was a lady of unsurpassable loveliness.

But, at the moment, her pale beauty was marred with the pain of yet another death. She cradled her father's head in her lap, tears dropping steadily from her eyes as she lifted a few stray wisps of gray hair from his sunken cheeks. "Otou-san!" she whispered, shakily, her soft lips trembling.

The moment she had had her epiphany on the shrine floor, she had dashed down the planked halls with breakneck speed, her bare feet pounding roughly on the wooden flooring. Fighting for her breath, she had wedged her way past the standing guards into her father's quarters.

There, she had found the weakened form of her father, sprawled out on his sleeping mat, his breathing stopped, his head lolled at an unnatural angle. Seven advisors were standing around the bed, looking on in tones of false humility and mock sadness. Michiro whimpered a little, pressing her father's lightened body to her breast.

Shinjiru stepped forward, hesitantly, opened his mouth to form words of comfort. "Lady Michiro, we offer our condolences. Oyakata-sama….he died with dignity, leaving behind his weary sickness for the peace of death."

But, this time, the nasal voice was like an attack on her heart. Raising her head sharply to look him in the eyes, her face was fuming with rage and grief.

"Dignity! Sickness!?" She spat at his feet, still holding her father's body in her arms. "You filthy rats! You poisoned him! You caused him to waste away into nothing until you could control him!" She whipped her eyes around the room to glare at every advisor, shrieking loud enough to rouse the entire household. "Vermin!"

One of the other men, wrinkled and graying under a cloud of moustache and drab robes, stepped toward Michiro. "The woman has gone mad with the knowledge of her dear father's death," he stated dryly, as if it was only natural that she would accuse them of murder. "Take her to her quarters so we may prepare the body for ritual."

Before Michiro had another opportunity to ravage the seven with her scorching words, the guards had seized her forcefully by the arms. They were dragging her down the hallway as she screamed out and writhed with emotion.

They threw her unceremoniously into her room, one keeping guard at the entrance so that she could not leave to see her father anymore.

The moment she had been left alone in the bare room, she collapsed on the floor, and let the tears spill out onto the floor. It was not as she had imagined- it was far worse. She had not even been able to say goodbye.

She did not know what they planned to do with her, now that her father was dead. Michiro curled into a ball, and shook with pain until she could cry no more.

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Back in the quarters of the nobleman, the advisors stood, silently together, looking upon the limp form of their lord with expressionless faces.

The same advisor, Mansou, that had thrown Michiro out, now looked into the faces of the six others. "No funeral preparations. We will burn the body tonight. Send for Ganzau. Let the miko be. She must be too distraught to witness the ceremony." The others nodded at his bidding, and shuffled away to complete their duties.

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