InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsuki no Aika ❯ Verse 1: Return ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Tsuki no Aika (Lament of the Moon)
Summary: The tale of the love between the daiyoukai of the West and a hime from the East.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of its elements. They are the property of Rumiko Takahashi.

For wicked-oni, for happy thoughts.
Also for moreta and eleia for feedback.
And most definitely for quietharm, for beta-reading, for artistic inspiration, and for starting me in the IY fandom.

 

~ One ~

 

The palanquin swayed rhythmically. Izayoi barely noticed the motion anymore, having traveled this way all her life. Nor did the faint creak of the frame or the flutter of the sheer curtains draw her attention.

 

She inhaled a breath, relishing the way it did not catch or spark off a coughing fit.

 

She knew that her father did not like her going West; it was her failing health that forced him to let her go. He would not speak of his reluctance, but Izayoi thought she knew why; although Takase no Shinawaru was his ally and husband to his lady's sister, Takahiro no Matsumori felt that the West was a poor influence on his daughter.

 

His feelings were not, perhaps, completely unfounded; life in the Western realm was indeed very different from that in Kiso-sanmyaku, the central mountains. Izayoi felt a smile tug at her mouth, remembering her first exposure to that startling new world.

 

In her mind's eye, she saw a tall girl in a yellow-and-ochre tsukesage. “Let's get you out of those robes; they must be suffocating,” she had said briskly, peeling off the outer layers of Izayoi's junihitoe. “With all this weighing you down, it's no wonder you're so tiny.”

 

Amaya had been so different from any other girl Izayoi had met up to that point; a whirlwind of words and emotions, fresh, uninhibited, cavalier.

 

And by the time the missive arrived from Matsumori biding his daughter return home, the cousins had become inseparable.

 

It had been five years and Izayoi was eager to return. The long journey wore on her patience and she restlessly turned her face to the setting sun.

 

The messenger her father had sent to announce her arrival had taken twenty days to return; that meant that he had reached the Takase manor in ten. Izayoi's journey would not be as speedy. Her entourage - made up of twenty warriors, a baggage wagon and her palanquin - would take nearly a full cycle of the moon to travel from the chilly mountains to the warmer lowlands.

 

It was the evening of the twenty-eighth day; they would soon arrive at the Takase manor. This close to their destination, she could barely contain her impatience—

 

“Hime-sama.” The sudden intrusion of a rumbling male voice jerked her out of her reverie. “A word with you, if you will permit.”

 

Knowing who spoke, Izayoi felt her body go rigid and she felt the prickle of perspiration under her collar.

 

Beside her, Kuma stirred, roused from her dozing. The woman who had once been her nurse was middle-aged now, and brusquer than ever. Izayoi saw the scowl of disapproval furrowing her brow and laid a hand on her knee to quiet her.

 

She glanced through the curtain, seeing her guard captain in profile. She had only looked him full in the face once but the image was etched in her mind; eyes, dark and sharp as a sword thrust above the red cheek-guards of his helmet. Mouth a hard, unforgiving line. Brows knitted in a habitual scowl.

 

A skilled fighter, a pessimistic fellow, wary and suspicious of everything. In her father's eyes, that made him eminently suitable for guarding his daughter. And so Matsumori had made him responsible for Izayoi's safety, and in turn gave her command of him and his men.

 

Surely her august father had not erred in doing this. Yet, it put her in an untenable position. The warrior was proud; she could tell that being commanded by a woman, even one of her stature, chaffed at his sense of dignity. Moreover, he was as an unbroken stallion, aggressive and intransigent, fighting her, attempting to bend her to his will.

 

Izayoi admitted, if only to herself, that he intimidated her. And yet, she could not yield to their battle for control; she was her father's daughter, the mirror of all his honor - and her own.

 

She steeled herself. “Takemaru,” she acknowledged. Her tone was steady, rising in a note of faint inquiry, a subtle signal for him to speak.

 

“The hime's instruction was to lighten the guard. This is unknown territory; I would advise greater caution.” His phrasing was stilted, his manner stiff, as behooving one who would contest the orders of his lord's daughter.

 

She could - and should - chastise him for his audacity. Before she had worked up the nerve to do so, he added, “It may not be safe.”

 

His words called to mind a painting that hung on the wall of Shinawaru-dono's study. In light blues and yellows, a dog arched through the sky. It was pale and savage-looking, with bared fangs and baleful eyes. Clouds curled around its paws as if it stood upon them.

 

She had stood before it once while Amaya explained its significance.

 

“Inu no Taisho is the daiyoukai who brought peace to our land,” Amaya had said and Izayoi could still remember seeing her profile as she gazed at the painting. “In my great-grandfather's great grandfather's time, he laid down laws forbidding violence, laws to protect both humans and youkai. Anyone who broke the law faced his wrath.For a hundred years and more, we have lived in peace, mai-chan. We have live without fear.”

 

Izayoi recalled the sensation of unreality that had risen as she tried to fathom such a world as the one her cousin described. It had taken a while but in time, she had begun to understand and believe, and to lose some of the perpetual fear that haunted her.

 

“Hime-sama? Shall I double the guard?” Takemaru prompted none too gently.

 

“Ii-e,” she said, injecting conviction into her staccato reply. There was a strained pause. “We are in the lands of the West now. No youkai will attack us.” She drew on Amaya's remembered certitude, echoing it to the warrior: “It's safe.”

 

He did not withdraw, nor did he speak, but maintained a stony presence beside the litter, the action loudly declaring his defiance.

 

Izayoi broke the impasse first before she thought better of it. “We will arrive at the manor before dark. The lands surrounding the manor would certainly be well guarded.”

 

There was another tense moment before he bent in a sharp bow and returned to his place at the head of the column.

 

Kuma huffed to indicate her opinion of the man and shut her eyes to resume her nap.

 

Izayoi rested her head against the padded back of her seat, gathering her scattered nerves and restoring her composure. Through the curtains, she watched the sunset paint the landscape gold and forced herself to think of something else.

 

She wondered what she missed in the last five years. She was sure Amaya would give her the full details.

 

She didn't realize she had dozed until Kuma woke her. “Hime-sama.”

 

Izayoi opened her eyes.

 

The sun had set, leaving the inside of the palanquin filled with grey shadows. She heard a male voice raised in inquiry and Takemaru's swift answer. Then came the sound of a gate being unbarred and the creak of hinges as the heavy doors swung open.

 

“We have arrived,” Kuma murmured unnecessarily.

 

Through the thin curtains of her palanquin, yellow torchlight flickered up ahead. Menservants bearing torches stood in front of the manor house, illuminating the group of people assembled there. Izayoi resisted the urge to lean forward and peer out, seeking familiar faces. Instead, she smoothed her robe, calming herself.

 

The litter halted and lowered.

 

Kuma rose first, then turned and bowed, helping Izayoi step out of the palanquin. The serving woman stepped back, bowing, as soon as Izayoi stood, pulling herself as straight and regal as she could.

 

She tried to pick out Amaya, but it was too dark. Takase no Shinawaru bowed first, followed by his family and then the household. “Izayoi-hime. I'm glad you made the journey safely. I hope that the road was smooth and the way easy.” His graying hair shone silver and gold in the yellow torchlight.

 

Izayoi bent in slightly less depth, returning her uncle's ritual greeting. “I thank Shinawaru-dono for his welcome and bear the greetings of my House. May I hope, in return, that all is well with you?”

 

The lord straightened. “The hime is kind; it is well with us.” Formalities observed, her uncle gestured to the manor. “We have tea, and some refreshments,” he said in oblique invitation.

 

Izayoi gestured acceptance and Shinawaru-dono turned to lead the way. An unfamiliar man turned with him, keeping pace one step behind at the lord's left shoulder.

 

Who was he, Izayoi wondered as she mounted the stairs with Kuma beside her. And where was Amaya? Speculation was drowned by nostalgia as she followed the two men through familiar corridors to the dining hall she knew well.

 

She knelt at the threshold, entering the room on her knees. As she made her way to the place already arranged for her, she spotted Amaya.

 

The sight of her cousin shocked Izayoi. Gone was the braid that used to hang down her back and the tsukesage; in its place was a heavy coil of dark hair at the nape of her neck and a more formal irotomesode. More striking than the physical differences were the less tangible ones; the set of Amaya's shoulders, her downcast face, her stillness and silence, spoke volumes of an inward change. It was so uncharacteristic that it sent a pang of fear through Izayoi.

 

Her eyes surreptitiously trained on Amaya, she seated herself, tweaking her heavy robes into order with practiced ease.

 

The stranger seated himself beside and slightly in front of Amaya and revelation collided with worry.

 

Amaya… married.

 

The thought provoked a flash of memory, of an earlier time, another room. Of Amaya, eyes flashing and face flushed. “Chichi-ue is trying to marry me off, but I won't have it!” Her voice was raw, harsh, as she told Izayoi vehemently, “I'm not like my mother. Haha-ue is content to follow chichi-ue's instructions and sew and take care of the house. I want to do so much more!”

 

Izayoi blinked away the sudden distraction, the remembered force of Amaya's emotions stirring her trepidation.

 

“Hime-sama,” Shinawaru-dono called her attention away from Amaya. He gestured to the strange man. “I make known to you Suotetsu no Yukio.”

 

In the simple words, Izayoi read the intended meanings. Yukio retained his own name and so had not been accepted into the family yet. That meant that Amaya had not borne a child. The brevity of the introduction and the even tone of Shinawaru-dono's voice spoke of a lack of warmth for his future son-in-law and successor.

 

Izayoi's apprehension escalated.

 

Her eyes drew back to Amaya. Was this drastic change in her cousin due to this man, her husband-to-be? Surely not. Surely he treated her well, Izayoi thought in rising distress.

 

And then she caught Amaya watching her through lowered eyelashes. Her older cousin's lips turned up in a smile although she kept her face modestly bowed.

 

The small, simple sign drained some of Izayoi's anxiety. She bent forward in acknowledgement to Yukio's bow and studied him.

 

He had a thin face, with a chin and nose that one might call pointed. The wrists that rested on his knees were bony, the fingers long. Izayoi would have thought him someone who brimmed with nervous energy. Yet, he had a languid air about him that could be read in the way he held himself and the way his eyelids drooped.

 

Izayoi caught a suspicious crinkle at the corners of his eyes and realized that she had been looking at him overly long. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling warmth creep up her neck.

 

A timely servant set a tray of light refreshments before her. She politely waited for everyone else to be served and her uncle to pick up his teacup before reaching for her own.

 

Her eye lighted on the woman seated demurely beside Shinawaru-dono. Her mother's sister looked much the same as she had five years ago, save some silver in her hair and perhaps deeper lines around her eyes and mouth.

 

Takase no Rei looked up and their eyes met. The older lady smiled in quiet welcome and Izayoi felt an answering greeting tug at the corners of her lips.

 

She sampled the refreshments, carrying on light conversation with her uncle. Yukio contributed the occasional remark, but Amaya and Rei remained silent during this first `formal' interaction. Izayoi longed to adjourn from this stilted audience but quelled her impatience.

 

When the refreshments had been consumed and protocol observed, Shinawaru-dono brought the conversation to a point of polite withdrawal. Izayoi took her cue, excusing herself with the formalized phrases of departure.

 

She had been given her old room, the one from which she could watch the sun rise over the gardens. Her belongings had already been placed within and she sent Kuma to prepare a bath.

 

Alone in the room, Izayoi hesitated, then reached for her obi herself rather than wait for her handmaid to attend to her. The heavy robes of her junihitoe, such a comfort in the East, were nearly suffocating in the heat of the West.

 

Hands grasped the edge of the garment as she slipped off the heavy brocade outer robe. Izayoi glanced behind her but instead of Kuma, she found Amaya's grinning face.

 

“With all this weighing you down, it's no wonder you're so tiny,” she commented, and Izayoi felt a pang of nostalgia at those words.

 

She turned to face her cousin and bowed. Then she found herself pulled into a tight embrace, which she returned after a moment of hesitation.

 

“I have missed you,” Amaya breathed before holding her at arm's length, smiling into her eyes.

 

“And I you,” Izayoi returned, emotion suddenly clogging her throat. “Is all well with you, juushi-san?” she asked, letting some of her concern shade her voice.

 

Amaya's smile widened briefly to a grin. She did not pretend to misunderstand Izayoi's question. “It is indeed. Yukio is... tolerable.”

 

There was droll humor in her tone that did more to reassure Izayoi than any eloquent declaration. She wanted to ask more, but Amaya spoke first.

 

“And what of you, mai-chan? Is your cough back?” And now it was Amaya's turn to be concerned.

 

Izayoi ducked her head. “Yes,” she said quietly, choosing a simple understatement.

 

Amaya was still for a heartbeat, and then she tugged the next layer of Izayoi's junihitoe off. “Well, then, we'd best get you clean and comfortable and to bed. I'll get Shinju to brew some of that herbal tea that seemed to help you before,” she said briskly.

 

Kuma bustled into the room and saw the young Lady of the House helping her hime disrobe. She threw them a look of disapproval but past experience with Amaya's sharp tongue made her refrain from comment. Instead, she contented herself with picking up the discarded robes and assisting with the undressing.

 

Amaya walked with Izayoi to the bath and sat by the tub, regaling her with anecdotes while Kuma helped her wash off the travel dust.

 

When they returned to Izayoi's chambers, they found Shinju there, bearing a tray with a steaming cup. The maid bowed before speaking. “Rei-sama sends tea with the hope that it will ease hime-sama's discomfort.” She straightened and inclined her torso slightly towards Amaya. “And Yukio-sama wishes to know if his lady will rest soon, in deference to her delicate condition.” Shinju's voice was bland, betraying no emotion as she delivered this message.

 

Izayoi sent her cousin a startled look of inquiry.

 

Amaya turned from glowering at her maid to give Izayoi a rueful little shrug and a nod, confirming the news.

 

Izayoi felt her lips part and her eyes fell to Amaya's slim torso. There was no visible sign of the life growing within. “Oh, juushi-san!” Izayoi impulsively clasped Amaya's hands. “That's wonderful!”

 

The older cousin glowed with happiness, just a little.

 

Kuma took the tray from Shinju, and Izayoi released Amaya's fingers with a squeeze. “Wonderful,” she echoed. “And Yukio is right; it's getting late and you should rest.” She thought briefly to chide the mother-to-be for not telling her earlier.

 

Amaya looked about to retort, then seemed to change her mind. She gestured again, an action between a shrug and a nod. “And you. We'll talk some more in the morning,” she promised.

 

Izayoi bowed in acquiescence.

 

Amaya uncharacteristically executed an answering bow. “Oyasuminasai.” She left, padding down the hall with Shinju in her wake.

 

* * *

 

Izayoi woke with a start and lay still. It took her a moment to recall where she was and the knowledge made her relax into her tatami, relishing the moment.

 

She sat up and inhaled, happily noting that her breath did not hitch or rattle; the herbal tea had helped. She must remember to thank Rei-sama for it later.

 

Izayoi glanced to her left; Kuma was still fast asleep.

 

Quietly, Izayoi rose and straightened her yukata. On her knees, she went to the screen that opened to the garden and eased it open, using careful application of pressure to keep it from making a noise. Casting a backward glance at the slumbering Kuma, she slipped through the opening and stood on the platform that opened to the garden.

 

The sky was lightening to a rosy glow. The heavy coil of her sleeping braid hung over her shoulder and Izayoi absently played with the end of it as she watched the first rays of the day gild the garden. She enjoyed the quiet, reclaiming that sense of security that she had gained five years ago, a security she had left behind when she returned to her father's palace. In the East, there was never a time when she could be completely alone, unattended, unguarded. It was not safe. Until she had come West, she had never known the luxury of solitude.

 

Birds were wakening, their song a sweet counterpoint to the play of light.

 

Izayoi crossed the platform to sit, dangling her bare feet off the edge of the polished boards. Not far in front of her, shrubs lined a path that wound through the garden. Sunlight reflected off wavelets of the little stream that ran in the heart of the garden, flowing into the pond on the other side of the mansion. She could picture the pond in her mind; deep green water and moss-covered rocks and thick grass running up the slope of its banks. It had been a favorite place of hers in the evenings. She would often sit playing her sou, eschewing the pavilion in favor of the grass, much to Kuma's disapproval.

 

She smiled faintly at the memory, then the sound of a step from the garden path made her turn. Amaya, perhaps; her cousin knew her habit of watching the sunrise.

 

The armored warrior froze to a stiff halt at the same moment Izayoi saw him.

 

He straightened his stance in greeting. “Hime-sama,” came the rough voice she recognized.

 

“Takemaru,” she acknowledged. Aware of how she must look, bare feet dangling and attired for sleep, Izayoi had the urge to scramble upright and muster what little dignity she could. To do so, however, would betray her chagrin, something she would not do before the warrior.

 

Instead, she schooled her manner to serenity. “Are the men well?”

”Hai.”

 

The curt response bordered rudeness. Silence stretched between them uncomfortably and, this time, Izayoi let it.

 

“Hime-sama,” Takemaru ground out finally. “What do you require of us?”

 

Izayoi turned her gaze to the rising sun. “You are free to rest and train. Defer to Shinawaru-dono's captain,” she said.

 

“Shall I have a guard accompany you?” His tone told her that he already knew her answer but wanted to hear otherwise.

 

“That will not be necessary, Takemaru.”

 

Another stiff silence ensued. Izayoi kept her attention on the horizon. There was a sharp clatter of armor as he gave his abrupt salute and left. She waited until he was gone, then looked down at the hands she folded in her lap. The sun had risen above the snow-capped peaks of the Akashi-sanmyaku, the southern mountains.

 

Her quiet reverie had been shattered beyond hope of recovery. She rose and entered the room to find both tatami folded away neatly. Kuma had a faint scowl on her face but said nothing, motioning Izayoi forward. Her former nurse took away the yukata and held up a tsukesage. It was peach colored with a pattern of grey flowers running across the bottom of both sleeves and diagonally up the hem. The obi was grey to match the pattern. Dressed, Izayoi knelt and Kuma combed out her hair.

 

Just as Kuma was putting away her comb, Amaya arrived with two servants bearing breakfast trays. “Did you sleep well, mai-chan?” she inquired.

 

Izayoi bowed. “Very well, juushi-san, thank you for asking.”

 

Amaya's smile turned lopsided at her formality. The servants left and she took her seat before one of the trays.

 

Izayoi nodded to Kuma and the maid left to break her own fast.

 

Both cousins sipped their hot tea, and then Izayoi broached the subject she was most curious about. “Tell me about Yukio.”

 

“What would you like to know?” Amaya asked, setting down her teacup.

 

“Hm.” Izayoi shrugged. While she was curious, she did not wish to pry. “What is he like?” she asked tentatively.

 

Amaya pursed her lips. “He's clever - but don't tell him I said that - and he's lazy.”

 

Izayoi went still with shock at the blunt description but Amaya was going on.

 

“A while after you left, I made chichi-ue agree that I would only marry a man who could best me in wits.” She laughed softly at Izayoi's expression at her gall. Flicking her fingers in a dismissive fashion, she went on, “For years, no man was able to do so. Then a year ago, chichi-ue lost his patience and asked Hiroshi-sama, the nakodo, to send suitable candidates. The matchmaker said that there was one person he had in mind, but he doubted chichi-ue would allow it.” Amaya smirked. “Chichi-ue did something then that he now regrets; he swore that if the candidate Hiroshi named could pass my trial, he would be accepted. Yukio arrived the next day...” Amaya trailed off.

 

Izayoi lifted her teacup to her lips, subtly prompting her to go on.

 

“He's very clever when he wants to be.” Amaya said blandly. “Unfortunately for chichi-ue, he has no desire to govern the House.”

 

Izayoi stared, lips parting.

 

Amaya smiled, clearly enjoying the response she evoked. “Which is just perfect, don't you think?”

 

“How so?” Izayoi asked cautiously after a moment. She put her cup down and folded her hands in her lap.

 

“Because then I can.” Amaya picked up her chopsticks and nibbled a bit of pickled vegetable. “Yukio and I talked it over and we agreed; I will manage affairs and he will... idle his days away.”

 

Izayoi stared at her teacup, trying to absorb this bizarre turn of events. “Otooji-sama is aware of this?”

 

“Somewhat. He knows that I'm running the affairs of the House although he's of the impression that I do so under Yukio's instructions.”

 

“And he accepts this?”

 

Amaya grinned. “He has no choice; he swore to the nakodo that he would accept the candidate.”

 

“So desu ne.”

 

Unconventional. Amaya had not changed at all. If anything, she was even more unorthodox than before. Izayoi stirred her miso soup and sipped. “Are you happy?” she asked, finally.

 

Amaya's eyes locked with hers. “I am.”

 

Izayoi set down the bowl. “Then I'm glad.”

 

“Arigatou.” Amaya set down her chopsticks and bowl and bowed, hands flat on the floor. Looking at the top of her head, Izayoi was struck by how unlike Amaya the mannerism was. Perhaps her cousin had changed without even being aware of it.

 

“What would you like to do today?” Amaya asked, resuming her meal.

 

Izayoi picked up a morsel of pickled vegetables. “I haven't any plans in particular,” she temporized. “What of you?”

 

“I thought we might go into town.” Amaya speared a piece of tofu.

 

Izayoi hesitated. She had never been into town before and she was not sure she particularly wanted to enter such an unfamiliar environment. “What's in town?” she asked.

 

“Hm... merchants, for the most part,” Amaya said off-handedly. The casual air slipped when she threw Izayoi a look that told the younger woman she read the reluctance and was not fooled.

 

Izayoi sighed but felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards. When Amaya had her heart set on something, it was often easier to be swept along than to resist. “I had looked forward to a quiet chat,” she commented nonchalantly by way of registering her protest.

 

“We'll have plenty of time to chat,” Amaya assured breezily, picking up another piece of tofu.

 

She left with the breakfast trays. When Kuma returned, she had apparently been informed of the day's outing. She opened a trunk containing Izayoi's junihitoe but a soft word from the hime forestalled her.

 

“Hime-sama cannot go out without—“ she began, swiveling her head to look at Izayoi. The level look she received interrupted her protest.

 

“Ii-e, I shall go attired the same way as Amaya-sama,” she said. She wished to blend in and become inconspicuous, not draw attention to herself. “You may change my obi,” she added by way of compromise and closing the topic. She raised her arms to allow Kuma to fasten a heavily embroidered maru obi around her waist. It was a bit too formal for a day in the town, but Kuma's knitted brows spoke of intractability.

 

The older woman brushed her hair and then Izayoi led the way to the entrance of the mansion. In the courtyard, they found Amaya already standing there with... a surprise.

 

Instead of two palanquins, a large ox-drawn carriage stood ready to bear the women into town. Six menservants in house uniform were busily hitching the brown ox to the yoke.

 

While Izayoi liked that she and Kuma could ride with Amaya and Shinju, she also felt that the choice boded ill as an indication of the number of purchases Amaya anticipated.

 

She went to join her cousin, returning Yukio's courteous greeting. The man stood to one side, watching as his wife-to-be was assisted into the seating compartment. Izayoi waited her turn to be helped up.

 

“Hime-sama.”

 

The clatter of armor and the abrupt hail made Izayoi stiffen. Beside her, Kuma huffed. Izayoi turned slowly, bracing herself for a disagreement. Conscious that all eyes were focused on her now, she tipped her head up to look at him, feeling her expression close. “Takemaru?”

 

“Does the hime require an escort?” His tone was barbed, his words more demand than question. His eyes, framed by the red helm of her House, bore into her. He lowered his voice but there was an edge to it that skirted insolence. “Matsumori-dono charged me with guarding your safety.”

 

Let me do my duty. The words hung heavily between them, unsaid but not unheard.

 

She gave him a sidelong look, weighing her actions. If she denied him and something should happen to her, it would mean his life. Yet, to reverse her decision would be to weaken her authority.

 

Izayoi thought about the possible repercussions of her choices and almost acquiesced. No one else would know that she had told him to stand down that morning. And while an easy agreement now would only make the next battle harder, perhaps a bitter fight later was preferable to the consequence of a threat to their excursion—

 

And then, over her guard captain's shoulder, Izayoi caught sight of Yukio studying their interaction with sharp interest. “No, Takemaru. That will not be necessary.” She started to turn away in clear dismissal.

 

She heard a rapid step behind her, the creak of leather and metal.

 

“Peace, warrior,” Yukio spoke up suddenly, his tone easygoing. “No one could care for Izayoi-hime's well-being more than the House of Takase. Amaya-sama has already arranged for an escort. I'm sure she and hime-sama will be safe.”

 

Izayoi threw back a startled look but recovered quickly. “It would be disrespectful to add my own guards, as if I do not trust her to keep me safe,” she seconded, following his lead.

 

Her guard captain hesitated for a heartbeat then executed a stiff bow, his face a hard mask.

 

Izayoi allowed the waiting servant to help her mount the carriage and entered the seating compartment.

 

Amaya was watching her avidly while she seated herself. “Your guard captain is most dedicated,” she remarked.

 

“He is,” Izayoi agreed noncommittally, avoiding Amaya's prying eyes.

 

Thankfully, the thread of conversation was lost with the arrival of Kuma. The middle-aged lady huffed ungraciously and collapsed into the seat beside Izayoi. The carriage began moving before she had caught her breath.

 

* * *

 

 

I know I used quite a number of Japanese terms; hope that wasn't too technical for you! ^^;

For those who are thinking, `where is Inupapa!', don't worry; Chapter 2 is all him.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

 

Glossary
Akashi-sanmyaku - Southern Mountains of Japanese Alps
arigatou - Thank you
-chan - Casual term appended to name to signify familiarity and closeness
chichi-ue - Father, possessive/personal, respectful. Literally `my father, above me'.
daiyoukai - Great demon
-dono - Title/honorific, means "lord"
haha-ue - Mother, possessive/personal, respectful. Literally `my mother, above me'.
hai - Yes
hime - Princess / lady
ii-e - Literally, 'no', but connotative can mean 'say nothing of it'
inu no taisho - Inupapa's title, not to be mistaken for his name. Literally `Dog General'
junihitoe - Formal ladies' court garb made up of 8 - 20 layers of robes. Literally "12-robes"
juushi - Older cousin sister. Added a -san for a slightly more formal mode of address
Kiso-sanmyaku - Central Mountains of Japanese Alps
mai - Literally `younger sister'. Shortened from juumai, meaning younger cousin sister.
maru obi - The most elaborate and formal type of obi
nakodo - Matchmaker
obi - Sash that fastens around the waist of the kimono
otooji - Uncle
oyasuminasai - Good night
-sama - Title/honorific, generic
-san - Most generic title for people
sou - 13-stringed koto or Japanese harp
tatami - Sleeping or sitting mat.
tsukesage - Kimono with modest patterns worn by unmarried women, somewhat casual
yukata - Light robe, very informal