Redemption

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

REDEMPTION

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

WORDS

shoji - papered, lattice-style screens that divide rooms in a larger house
dojo - training arena, often used for karate

WARNING! FLUFFY WAFF, BOTCHED PORTRAYALS OF HISTORY, RUN-ON SENTENCES AND SENTIMENTAL BLAH, CONTINUED POTTY MOUTHS AND TRITE ENDINGS…ENJOY!

A/N - I thought this would be a short blerp on how life is wonderful, blah blah. Didn’t think it would develop into it’s own story, LOL. But maybe, just maybe, it provides a way for the world of old to live in the world of now. Cheers and gracias, Fate (Next project, finish Solace and Vengeance…mwa-ha-ha-ha!)

EPILOGUE

Miroku was the happiest of men. Surrounded by a bevy of beautiful young women, he could think of no better ploy than the oft-times foolish one of reaching one hand out to touch and tickle. The predictable result was ever the same. A feminine shriek of pure outrage, followed by a good attempt to smack the offending hand away.

Except the girl overbalanced and fell across his lap. Convenient, that. Reaching with both hands, the monk attacked the blue-eyed girl with wriggling fingers until she all but howled for release. The other girls quickly decided to even out the odds and attacked the poor houshi until he fell beneath them, crying surrender amid the shrieks of laughter and the tumbling confusion of sturdy little bodies.

The Taiyoukai of the West stared down at the tangled mass of monk, ningen and hanyou children with a golden aloofness that silenced them all by its reproachful austerity. Amid flushes and blushes and nervous whispers, Miroku finally extricated himself and managed a rather gracious bow toward the great youkai, a bow with more than a touch of irony about it.

“Welcome, Sesshoumaru-sama. We did not expect you so soon.”

“Indeed.” The Lord’s cold gaze flickered over the small knot of children, stopping suddenly on the tell-tale silver head of a little girl who couldn’t be more than two years old. Wide amber eyes stared up at the solemn Taiyoukai, and a finger promptly went into her mouth.

“Her resemblance to that stupid hanyou is remarkable, me lord.” Jaken could not help but comment on the obvious. When no one moved fast enough to suit the snooty little imp, he said rather testily, “You, girl. You should be bowing to your betters. He is Lord of your Clan, you know.”

The two-year-old stared at the imp for a long moment before she decided to do the one thing that had always worked for her. Opening her mouth, she let out a wail that bounced off the trees and welled up over the broad fields in rising agitation. A bird squawked, startled out of its tree, and there was a distant bellow from the village not far away.

Miroku looked impressed.

“Yes, the resemblance is quite remarkable.” The Taiyoukai said dryly as his brother came bounding across the fields at a dead run.

“Sesshoumaru!” He all but snarled, claws gripping the fang at his side.

“Family reunion?” Bankotsu was but a step behind, a black brow cocked in amusement as he stared from one brother to the next. Little Mika hurled herself at her glowering father, who hugged the little girl to him with fierce protectiveness.

“Been a while, Sesshoumaru. What brings you here, of all places, to the demon slayers’ village?” Inuyasha growled as Jaken’s eyes bulged.

“Insufferable pup! How dare you talk to me lord Sesshoumaru that way!”

“Jaken.” The feminine voice was soft, but firm. The two-headed dragon landed on the grassy verge with almost dainty delicacy. Considering its burden, and the Taiyoukai’s uncertain temper regarding his wife and newborn child, it was probably a smart thing to do.

“Rin?” The female contingent finally arrived, along with most of the village, and Kagome could not believe her eyes.

Rin’s laugh was much the same, light and easy, if everything else had changed over the past ten years. Gone was the precocious little child in her adorable pigtail. The Lady of the West had grown into a beautiful woman, elegantly demure and yet fiercely loyal to her Lord. The eyes were the same, though, as Jaken hastily assisted his mistress down from Ah-Uhn’s back. They danced with merriment at the entrance her ever-solemn mate could create for them. Clutching the precious bundle close to her breast, she made her way to stand next to her Lord, whose casual glance made certain that she and the babe had traveled well before turning his full attention back to the odd mix of human and hanyou who now surrounded them in a small cluster of dubious welcome.

“Rin-chan, is that…?” Kagome clasped her hands with delight, eager to get a look at the small, wriggling bundle in the Lady’s arms. Rin nodded with a warm smile, though she would not speak before her mate.

Children nervously milled around their parents. Sango had to all but drag her youngest son with her as she pushed forward to greet the Taiyoukai. Kanaye refused to leave the safety of his grip on her leg, and seeing where their distracted mother was headed, three small bodies separated themselves from the knot that always hovered around Miroku and pressed in from behind as she formally greeted the Taiyoukai.

“My lord Sesshoumaru. You are well come to our village.” Bankotsu was suddenly there, behind her, lending his solid, unspoken support as all hell broke loose. Most of them, including an irate hanyou who was currently demanding to know just what the fuck this was all about, had not realized that the forthcoming Council would include youkai, but it was they who were needed just as much as the priests and monks and taiji, if an alliance was to be forged in the troublesome times that lay ahead.

For if Kagome was right---and Sango had no reason to doubt the young miko’s word, seeing as it was the history taught her in the modern era---then they would need all the allies they could get…

ooOOooOOooOOoo

“In fifty years, a young warlord will arise to unite Japan under one rule. Oda Nobunaga will win a decisive battle over the Yoshimoto clan, and pave the way for the coming Age of Man.” Kagome chose her words carefully, uncertain of how much to reveal. What was history to her was mere prophesized speculation to the doubting youkai and ningen gathered here.

“The what?” Kouga sprawled across the floor, his mate Ayame curled up beside him. He scoffed at the idea of a mere warlord coming to power and ushering in some golden age of man. Although a close friend, they were cautious about entrusting the wolf prince with Kagome’s true secret.

“Men surpass youkai? Impossible!” There were other noises of discontent as the youkai stirred angrily among themselves.

“The Oda clan is a small one. How can they possibly win against the Yoshimoto? They have no money, no power, no prestige!” This was from the daimyo of Kagome’s own village. Other voices rose to take up the argument.

“The Oda support the Emperor.”

“The Emperor! Hah! He’s too broke to even crown himself Lord.”

“This human Emperor has no authority over youkai, why should we concern ourselves with his interests?”

“Preposterous! This miko has no real evidence she speaks the truth. Why should we concern ourselves with the mutterings of a hanyou’s mate?”

“You’re gonna eat those words, ass hole.” Amber glare, and Kagome’s prompt protest, “Inuyasha!”

The meeting was deteriorating to the point of futility. Meeting Sango’s eyes, Bankotsu nodded reassurance. Taking a deep breath, the taijiya stood up to gain their attention. A few glanced her way but continued talking, each trying to outdo the others in airing their own opinion. Looking grim, the taijiya glanced toward the Taiyoukai, who sat quietly across from her, a small space cleared around him---a rather telling fact in a room where space was at a premium and the assembled where crowded elbow to elbow, youkai to miko and monk to daimyo, with the taiji standing nervous guard over all.

Sesshoumaru raised a clawed hand, and instantly the room fell silent, all eyes drawn to the deadly Lord of the West. He simply nodded for Sango to proceed, and she nervously cleared her throat as all eyes were suddenly focused on her instead.

“All of you know that I and mine are taiji. Traditionally, we have been enemies of the youkai, and yet all of you know how much has changed since Naraku’s death and the destruction of the Jewel. The shogunate grow stronger inside your own borders, even as your kind grow fewer in number.”

There was many a dark scowl on youkai features, though a few looked thoughtful.

“It will pass! We live many times the single life-span of a man. This warlord, this Nobunaga you speak of, he will live and die before even my own grandchild is grown to maturity!” There were other nods of assent for the old youkai’s sentiment.

“This might be true, youkai, but it is also true that for each grandchild ye claim, there are a thousand men born to each generation ye pass. Ye cannot hope to outlive them all.” The querulous old voice of the aged priestess drew a respectful silence. Kaede got creakily to her feet, shunning any assistance. With her single eye, she looked around her at the varied attendees with frank contempt. “Think of it. Your grandchild, Taimaru, was born over ten years ago. In that time, the monk Miroku has fathered nine children. His bloodline, as many of ye know from Miyatsu, is legendary. Imagine how many children each of his sons---and he has six of them already, mind ye---will father, and how many children their sons and their sons’ sons will father. And that is from but one man.”

The priestess fixed them all with a gimlet eye as Miroku flushed with embarrassed pride at the glares sent his way. “Ye count us so little, and yet ye forget that our strength has always been your greatest weakness. Your years are great, youkai, but so are our numbers. And unlike ye, we are easy to change with the varying tides, for our shorter years gives us the ability to look beyond the centuries ye count and seize the moment.”

The old woman coughed, her energy spent, but there was a heavy, telling silence as she carefully resumed her seat.

Seeing his own opportunity, Myouga jumped to the center of the divided room. Few could actually see the tiny flea youkai, though his scratchy voice spiraled up from the floor. “Just so, Kaede-sama! So I kept telling my lord Inutaisho! My continued study of our history leaves no doubt in my mind that the spiritual age is waning, and that man will try and fill the gap…”

“How can you say that, old man? You’re a fool! My clan is young and vigorous---”

“Silence, Unari! I want to hear what the flea means by ‘spirit age’.” Kouga growled the other youkai silent. His frosty blue eyes turned on the profligate houshi. “What do you have to say about this, monk?”

Miroku coughed as all eyes turned once more in his direction. The head of his order, a Buddhist monk of great spiritual power but of limited tolerance and rigid beliefs, was frowning. There was a stir among the Shinto priests, though they had already given their word to stand by Kaede, who they respected greatly. It was only Kaede’s firm convictions that had swayed them to follow young Kagome’s outlandish predictions. There was no such strong a voice among the monks that could unite them. Miroku’s mentor, Mushin, had hardly been respected among the spiritual brotherhood. Miroku’s grandfather, though widely esteemed, had died over sixty years ago, and so they had paid scant heed to the miko’s private warnings.

Kagome felt a twinge of sorrow, looking at those closed faces. Oda Nobunaga would attack the militant orders on Mount Hiei in 1571, killing thousands of Buddha’s disciples and forever ending the power of the spiritual orders as a true political force in Japan. While she had danced around telling any specifics, she had tried to phrase her warnings with the dire consequences of inaction. She did not want to utterly change history---who knew what it might do to the future and the family and friends she had left behind when the well closed at the Jewel’s demise. The effects of timeline paradox were too much for her to even want to contemplate, and so they had all agreed that while they must try to shape what they could of the future that she knew as fact, they could not change it to suit their own particular whims and desires.

They were not gods.

Miroku gingerly stood up, persuaded by Sango’s encouraging nod. “Brothers, we must all seek to understand the world around us. Kagome, the reincarnation of the powerful miko, Kikyou, has had visions of the future that show how the world we know, that of youkai and taiji and monk and miko, will eventually decline. Men like this Oda clanlord will step in to fill the gap. Time is ever flowing, ever changing, and we should prepare now for what we know is coming---”

“But how do we know?” A youkai protested. “This young girl, this miko, says this and that will happen, but how do we know?”

“Have you had any visions, houshi-sama?” This was courteously addressed to the head of Miroku’s order by a concerned daimyo, and it was with a sinking feeling that Miroku watched as the holy man’s expression hardened. The older monk had decided long before even meeting with Kagome that one girl’s ‘visions’ were not threat enough for him to even consider taking steps to prepare. With a tired sigh, Miroku closed his eyes and silently prayed as the aging houshi told them in terse words that he did not, and would not, believe any such thing from a Shinto priestess, one who might or might not be the reincarnation of a dead miko, one who might or might not have once possessed the Jewel of Four Souls, one who might or might not have had visions of the future, and one who, by all accounts, dared to flaunt her hanyou lover while still pretending to have kept her spiritual powers of purity.

Inuyasha growled, his amber eyes glittering dangerously, but it was Kaede who laid a steadying hand on his arm and kept the irritated hanyou from lobbing that pompous priest’s head off with one swing of his Tetsusaiga. Sango was surprised by the old miko’s actions, but as she watched, she was amazed to see that the old monk’s words were not having the effect she thought they would. In fact, the more the old man denounced Kagome’s visions and her fitness even as a miko, using her distasteful liaison with an inu-hanyou as his main excuse, the more restless and angry the faces about her became.

The Shinto priests who had agreed to come to this unheard of meeting maintained bland looks as the monk’s quavering voice turned apoplectic in his fanatic denial of the truth. The few daimyo, beholden to youkai lords or loyal to the shrines and open-minded enough to understand the need for this Council, were turning their eyes away from the elderly monk. Youkai were stirring restlessly, frowning in discontent at the houshi’s continued harangue. Many cast sidelong glances toward Sesshoumaru-sama, wondering what he thought of the monk’s disparaging remarks regarding his younger brother. The Lord of the West remained stoic and implacable, though Rin’s eyes were narrowing with dangerous ire.

It was she who finally stood up and said sharply, “Stop! I have heard enough, old man. You discount the honor of the inu with your remarks---”

“Foolish woman! Who are you to gainsay me?” The older monk sneered back at her. “You have borne your lord a half-bred bastard as well, have you not? You should be ashamed of yourself, taking up with a demon---”

“Enough.”

The icy voice was enough to silence all of them. Wide eyes turned to look at the Taiyoukai, who was now standing next to his defiant wife. The golden stare was hard and unwavering. “You insult the honor of my clan, monk. You will leave. Now.”

The monk actually paled, before rallying his spiritual strength around him like a shield. Lurching to his feet, his bald head shining with sweat, he shouted, “How dare you, demon! I will purify you to ash---”

Angry mutters stirred the assembled ranks. The taiji who stood guard clamped their hands to hilts as more than one youkai glared with reddened outrage. Something had to be done, and quickly, or this mockery of a Council would quickly turn bloody.

The monk sputtered in outrage as a hard hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Purify, eh?” Cobalt eyes glittered as Bankotsu smiled evilly. “I’d say you were offering threats to a peacefully assembled gathering. I think it’s time you leave, old man.”

“How dare you!” The monk choked as the former mercenary abruptly spun him about and dragged him out of the room. There was muttering among the other brethren. Miroku watched sadly as they all abruptly stood as one and defiantly, shoulders tense with pricked pride, followed their elected leader out.

“Nicely done.” Kouga smirked with approval as Sango vainly tried to restore order. Voices rose, challenging each other at the monks’ sudden defection. One or two more took the chance in the confusion to slip out as well. Noting that most of them were human, Sango wondered if it might not be miko, taiji and youkai in the end. She had hoped to forge an Alliance that might find a way to ensure that youkai-kind, who had no apparent part in Kagome’s world, would continue somehow to exist in some small way unknown to a young schoolgirl of the modern age...

The initial suggestion had actually come from Bankotsu, surprisingly. He had always had a rather loose interpretation on the way things should be. Traditions, he insisted, should only be kept when they did some good. When they became irreverent, and made no sense, they should be as easily discarded as a weakened katana. Sango wasn’t so certain they could pull it off. Taiji had always been protectors of…

She paused, inspiration dawning. A small touch of warmth whispered across the back of her mind, and she felt a sudden sense of emerging confidence that this was the right way, as a voice she had never thought to hear again whispered, :Heed him who you love, young one. Redeem the honor of your ancestors, for it was always your destiny to protect all who need it, not just those you call brother.:

Sango glowed for a moment, and she felt the unmistakable presence of her youkai friend curling around her feet as Midoriko’s ebullient voice faded from her mind with a soft, tinkling laugh. Flicking her twin tails, Kirara purred and rubbed her cheek against her ankle. Glowing red eyes blinked up at her, and the neko’s purrs increased ad the Taiyoukai made known his own choice, swaying the last of the dissident with his simple words.

“The world is changing, and we, as youkai, must change with it. My father, Inutaisho, saw this, and accepted it. He knew that the time would arise when man would come to dominate the earth. If we are to survive, then we must unite our people with theirs---or die.” The golden gaze swept the hall, which had grown still under that stark sentence.

Rin’s fingers were curled tightly in her Lord’s claws as he said mildly, “My mate is ningen. My newborn son and heir, Koushinmaru, is hanyou---and inu.” The golden eyes rested on his half-brother, as if silently acknowledging Inuyasha’s own birth for, perhaps, the first time. Inuyasha didn’t look all that grateful for the dubious honor, but he gave the Taiyoukai a slight nod of sour acceptance.

Sesshoumaru’s voice was cool as he finished simply, “I and mine will follow this woman’s words. This I pledge on my clan’s honor.”

With that simple proclamation of his favor, the Taiyoukai gracefully resumed his seat, his look one of icy indifference. Rin gave Sango an encouraging wink before setting her face into a suitably demure expression, her fingers still held tightly entwined with her Lord’s.

There was a slight stir among the assembled youkai as Sango drew in a steadying breath. For the first time, they were truly listening. Stepping forward, the taijiya outlined her simple plans for the coming future…

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Snicking back the shoji screen, Sango slipped into her children’s bedroom with a light tread, not wanting to wake them from their slumber. With a soft smile, she knelt by the boys’ futon. Little Kanaye, the youngest at three, had buried himself under the covers so that only a bit of forehead and curly black hair peeped from the blanket’s border. Bantaro complained bitterly about Kanaye always stealing the blankets, but he was sprawled on his side, his lanky form almost spilling over the edge of the small futon as he slept. He was getting too big now for the nursery, and would soon take up quarters in the training dojo with the other young apprentices.

Bantaro, born a year to the day of the Jewel’s destruction, was every inch his father in miniature. He exuded a cocky assurance that often worried Sango, reckless as it was. He led the other children into enough mischief that his mother often declared it would one day turn her hair white---though Bankotsu would only grin and say the boy was merely indulging in youthful exuberance, even as he meted out a fair measure of fatherly discipline, often with Bantaro bent over a fence vainly arguing his case against further punishment.

For all the trouble Bantaro was, he still had a loyal heart and refused to allow any bullying or nastiness among the older kids toward the younger. He was often their champion, and their adored ‘oo-aniki.’ He respected his father and all but worshipped his mother. He was very protective of both of his parents, and had already shown signs of a more thoughtful maturity than was his usual want. Already those wicked blue eyes and ebon locks were reeking havoc with the local village girls, and Sango thought ruefully that Bantaro would be breaking hearts in just a few more years…

Just as long as he didn’t take after his adopted uncle, Miroku. That flirt had already made his way through the village women, and was game for a second try, by the looks of Yasuo’s thickening waistline. The pretty widow already had a five-year-old son with Miroku’s laughing blue eyes. Sango fervently hoped that the redoubtable woman would bear the monk a daughter this time. Her village had grown enough in the last ten years, thank you.

With Kaede’s earlier predictions regarding the houshi’s future fertility making her frown slightly with foreboding for the future crowding of her small village, Sango glanced over at her daughters, who nestled together in the larger futon. Three dark heads crowned the single, large lump they made under the covers. Kaiya, the eldest, was seven, and the twins, Sorano and Leiko, were not yet five. Kaiya was a sweet girl, as shy and soft-spoken as poor Kohaku had ever been. She, unlike Kohaku, had flowered under her parents’ patient care, and had a special place in her father’s heart. Sango had worried at first that the young girl would never learn the way of the taijiya, but had finally grown resigned to the idea that her oldest daughter was not meant to be a warrior. Kaiya had a special knack for finding rare, medicinal herbs in the forest, and would spend hours with the village healer. She often spoke of Kaede, the old miko, with deep reverence and respect, and it may be that one day her young daughter would leave her to seek the way of the miko…

But for now she was still a little girl, and Sango would have a few more years yet before a decision would have to be made regarding Kaiya’s future. Sorano and Leiko, now---there was no doubt but that both of them would eventually follow in their mother’s footsteps and become warriors to equal any of the taiji currently being trained in the dojo. Although the twins looked little enough alike---Sorano tended to favor her father, with deep blue eyes and raven-black hair, while Leiko looked more like her mother, with bright brown eyes and burnished strands among the darker sable---they were fiercely loyal to one another. In temperament, Sorano was more like her mother, thoughtful, generous, and easily liked by everyone; while Leiko was often as cocky as Bantaro, and blunt and outspoken enough to rub people’s nerves the wrong way, though she had a kind heart. Both girls were as stubborn as the day was long, and their fights, though few, were renowned. Almost as renowned as that of their parents…

A soft smile curved Sango’s lips, and she looked up, fulfilled love shining in her honeyed eyes, as a distinctive shadow blocked the faint light from the opened doorway. Bankotsu entered, and laid a calloused hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Sango covered his fingers with her own, and they stayed that way for some time, eyes resting on the wonderful gifts life had brought them in the intervening years. Wonderful gifts, strong and sure, loved and loving. Their children would carry on their parents’ legacy, and would bring honor to their clans in the coming years and the coming struggles.

For the tides of the world were changing. Perhaps not in their lifetime, but in their children’s, or their children’s children, the face of this tiny island-nation would change, and both of them knew that their blood would be strong enough to meet those changes---perhaps, even, to help steer them into a future bright with both possibility and promise.

The first changes had just been put into play. The unlikely Council they had called on Kagome’s behalf had already ironed out a few tentative measures that would eventually become the secret laws that would govern the first Alliance of both miko and youkai, with the taiji---traditionally protectors of only men---to now act as Guardians for both men and demons. For inevitably disputes would arise between so volatile a species, and it would be the role of the taiji to guard and protect both from the actions of the few who would seek to supplant the Alliance’s rulings.

For although Kagome had known a world with no youkai in it, no one could doubt that they would be there, just hidden and secret from the normal, everyday knowledge of men. For as man gained in power and the old youkai lords fell from rule, old legends would be forgotten in a world that was ever racing toward a brighter future, ever seeking and ever reaching, even, eventually, for the stars.

Some might say that old legends could never have a place in such a world. But old legends never die, they just lie in wait for their time to come again…

And Sango was certain, as Bankotsu was certain, that they and theirs would always be a part of it…life renewed, honor rekindled and love reborn in a world redeemed.