Once Upon an Inuyoukai

A/N: If you notice a grammatical mistake such as spelling or missed punctuation, please let me know, I hate having that kind of thing in my work. Poisons it. I'm a perfectionist, can you tell?

Haven't done one of these in a while- just to be safe I'd better. I don't own Inuyasha or anything to do with it, nor am I making any money from this. Not that it would do me any good at all if I was, because so far a whole thirty-four people have read it all the way through to Chapter XXII. Yippee.
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Chapter IX: Stolen Music

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We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. -Japanese proverb
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It was dark again.

There was no storm that night, something that made them both secretly relieved for Jaken and Ah-Un.

They huddled in the cave, her bundled in furs and him stoically pretending he wasn't cold. Below them the castle continued its stilted death march, soulless and rotting from within. Even further below lay the barely restrained lake of frustrated mana, struggling to break free of whatever hold was keeping it mostly below ground.

Despite the force of the storm of last night, it had been caused only by the small amount of mana that had managed to escape the underground medians. If the true fury of all the blocked mana were released, they would have been dead, barrier or no. Their narrow escape the night before could not actually be attributed to the shield, she'd realized earlier. It was truly the effects of the amulet that had saved them, which she had astoundingly forgotten all about. As they walked, it absorbed much of the surrounding mana, protecting them from the brunt of the seepage.

"So.... what are we going to do for three days?" she asked, feeling a little bit jittery at being alone in close quarters with a demon lord she was fast becoming attracted to. All the beauty she'd seen earlier in the day in the sunlight had become something darker and more seductive in the firelight and shadows of the night.

Nix on that! she thought frantically. Of course he's attractive, all taiyoukai are. Have you forgotten so quickly about...? She cut the thought off midsentence. Don't want to go there. Not going there!

"Wait?" He sounded as though he was unsure as to whether she was expecting a different answer.

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Is she expecting a different answer? he wondered. It was only three days, barely an eyeblink to him. He'd slept longer than that before, if he had nothing else to do.

"You mean... just... sit here and do nothing? For three days?"

Apparently, she was.

What to say now? "Yes...?"

Her face spread in a tragic expression of woe. "Oh, kami," she muttered. "Three whole days..."

"Is this onerous to you?"

"Three days is a long time!" she cried.

He stared at her. Perhaps because she was human? Did three days seem so long to her because her total lifespan was so much shorter than his? Pathetic mortals. Three days was hardly long enough to blink properly in. "Find something to occupy yourself, then."

"What will you do?"

He leaned back, shutting his eyes. "Sleep."

She threw up her hands.

"I'm going to look for some food. I feel like stew."

"Do not go out of earshot. Remember that we are in enemy territory." He didn't have to look to know she was rolling her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm not going further than a quarter ri, thank you for your concern."

When he didn't reply, she ducked out of the cave into the darkness.

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She stared around at the bewildering natural garden.

Who could've guessed that a difference of a few hundred ri would so drastically change the resident plant life? Hardly any of it looked familiar. In the flickering light of her makeshift reed torch, so scrutinized a low-growing spreading green crawler. It looked a lot like a plant from home that was delicious in stew.

Probably the same family, she speculated, and cut some off.

She continued that way for a while, finding plants that looked somewhat familiar and collecting them. It was perhaps not the wisest thing, but she was hungry and very sick of dried fish. Nor were her thinking processes at their clearest- the occasional tendril of mana that was curling up from below had a numbing effect on her mind, dulling the edges of her thoughts.

On top of that, there was something wrong with the wind. The air was so soft... and fuzzy...

In any case, any outsider who happened to be watching could have seen that she was less than cautious in her gathering.

Perhaps that's why she missed the mistweed that slipped into her basket with the wild leek.

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He woke to the rich aroma of stew. She had a fire going, and a neat tripod held a pot she'd hidden somewhere in the packs, full of bubbling green liquid. She sat with one eye on it, drinking a bowlful down. As he watched, eyes half-lidded, she got another bowlful and downed it.

"Are you going to share?" he inquired, making her jump.

"Of course!" she said cheerily, eyes strangely dilated.

His brow crinkled. Something was amiss. He sat up and ladled himself a bowlful, lifting it to his lips. It smelled... off. "What is in this?"

She shrugged, the expression on her face bordering on maniacal, the smile far too cheerful to be real.

His hackles raised and he sat up to observe her more closely. She was swaying gently like a tall flower in the wind, except without the wind.

"I don't know, some green stuff and some other green stuff. And some dried fish, and rice."

His eyes widened incredulously. "You made a stew of strange plants and did not test it before consuming entire bowlfuls of it? I thought you claimed not to be stupid!"

She drew herself up unsteadily. "Hey, they looked just like the ones I used to cook with at home. They taste funny though." She giggled, and the offness clicked into place.

"Of course they do," he grated, "this is mistweed, you utter idiot."

She cocked her head at him, and giggled again.

He clenched his fists, breathing very deeply in an attempt to stay calm. The little fool had managed to get herself intoxicated on a hallucinogenic plant without him noticing already, and the three days had hardly even begun yet. How could she be so...

Oh.

He noticed then, at last, the dusty scent of the air and spotted the tiny drifting fluffballs. Damn, I suppose I cannot blame her when the damn plant is sporing. She would have inhaled them while picking already. No wonder she did not notice.

She was swaying and singing quietly to herself in a pleasant clear alto now, alternating lines of song with gulps of soup.

"S'good," she slurred, eyes unfocused. "Mistweed, you say? Gotta remember that."

He snatched the bowl away, earning a muzzy protest from the drunken woman. "That's enough, you little idiot. Any more and you will faint."

She laughed like he'd said the funniest thing she'd ever heard and smacked his shoulder weakly. He fought the urge to knock her unconscious until the effects wore off.

Then suddenly, her laughter cut off with startling abruptness. "Do you like me?" she asked, face open and vulnerable. The question was sudden, and more serious than she had any right to be while full of mistweed soup.

He scratched around the corners of his brain for an answer, but as it turned out, he did not need one. All the talking would be on her side tonight, it seemed.

"I like you. I'm not sure why. I don't like demons anymore." She flung her arm out, clumsily smacking his shoulder. "All they do is hurt people. Why do you all want to hurt us humans? We liked you, in the beginning, I think."

She was rambling, but he let her talk, stunned to silence by her words. Izayoi's face was completely free of all barriers, open like a scroll just begging to be read. A scroll full of painful memories and awkward beliefs.

"He hurt me," she said, quietly.

"Who?" he choked out, throat closed. His fingers wanted to smooth away the jagged edges of her. He buried his claws in his palms, feeling the flesh part and bleed. The pain was very welcome.

"Ryuunomei-sama," she said matter-of-factly, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

He flashed back to her nightmare, the shrieking agony and heart-wrenching wails. Perhaps he was at last about to learn the truth of that incident.

"Why?" he prodded gingerly.

Her eyes welled with shimmering firelit tears.

"I don't know!" she wailed, disconsolate and very, very drunk. "All my life," she gulped, "I served him faithfully. I was a good hostage, in the beginning, and then later, I Saw the visions for him and saved him so many times. Everything I had, I gave to him. Really and truly everything. I suppose," and she paused for a moment, wonderment in her eyes, "I loved him, a little... perhaps, more than just a little. He was my lord, I idolized him."

There was a light in her eyes that reminded him of Mai for a disorienting second, her unreasonable passion for things that did not deserve it.

"Then one day... he changed." She inhaled deeply, apparently searching for calm. It was elusive. Izayoi shook like an autumn leaf in a winter wind. "Why am I telling you this? I haven't told anyone this."

"I do not know."

"I should stop."

"If you wish." Truth be told, he was curious now about the 'change' in his ancient rival, but he would never, ever admit that to a human. Inferior or not. Thankfully, he did not have to. She continued.

"No... I want to talk about it now. It's far enough behind me now, and for some reason I trust you."

His eyebrow raised and he opened his mouth to rebuke her for her childish willingness to trust anyone and everyone, but then he paused. Was her trust truly misplaced? Somehow, he no longer felt that it was. Perhaps the slippery slope of feeling for her had not waited for his decision before shifting, until he fell helplessly into her hurt.

Her face was now drawn and hollowed as though all the softness had been melted away. She looked haunted.

"One day, he started calling me beautiful, like he did his wives, and touching my hair like it was precious to him. I loved him so, and so I was glad of his attention. For a long time, it continued like that, and I was more happy than I had ever been. He was so beautiful to me. I would have done anything he'd asked for just one of his smiles."

She smiled fondly, and he could almost see the hero-figure she saw Ryuunomei as reflected in her eyes. There was nothing dishonest about her. She truly would have done anything for him. What had changed?

Izayoi pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her shins."But then... he started to touch me where he shouldn't. At first it looked like it was by accident, just coincidental brushes against my chest and such. I knew they were no mistake, though. But I loved him, so I said nothing. No one would have believe me anyways."

She sat before the fire, opposite him, and stared unblinkingly into the flames. "For years he did things like that, and I grew to like it less and less, but I grew accustomed and still said nothing. There was no tangible proof that he was doing anything wrong that I could show anyone. Even if I had, he was the strongest-- who would stand up to him? No one who valued their lives."

Her eyes deepened to fathomless black hollows, pulling him in. Half-unconsciously, he leaned forward in order to hear better.

"Then... he went too far. Much, much too far. He brought me back to his chambers and... did things. Things that hurt, things I didn't want. I begged and screamed but he ignored me and kept on hurting me. I couldn't decide what to think-- should I be grateful that my beloved lord was paying such attentions to me, as he did his wives, or was the disgust and horror I was feeling correct? The latter was too painful, so I decided on the former. I decided to view it as a privilege instead of a curse, in order to stay sane. When he was done, he told me to say nothing or he'd... he'd... kill my father."

She hunched around her knees and crumpled like abused rice paper. Tears poured down her ruined face, golden in the firelight.

Inutaisho sat cold and furious. He'd known of this side of his enemy, but had never met a living victim. It was far more difficult to accept when the results were right in front of his eyes, suffering.

"Afterwards, he'd sometimes call me back to his rooms and do the things again. The older I grew, the less gentle he was. At first, he just left bruises. They went away in a few days and did not bother me too much. Then he started leaving ones that stayed for weeks and turned ugly colours, and hurt if I touched them. Once, near the end, he broke my arm. I told my father I'd fallen."

Her hand unconsciously rubbed her left forearm in memory. He wanted to rub it too, offer comfort of some sort since there were no words.

"As the years went by, he called me less and less often, until I thought he'd forgotten me, and I was glad. Then, a year ago, he called me back after two years of never touching me. It was the worst time yet. He was angry about something, and took it out on me. When he was finished, I was a bleeding mess. He knew that nobody would believe me if I said I'd 'fallen,' and did not want to face disapproval from the people since dealing with that was inconvenient. So, he decided to get rid of me. He took advantage of the situation yet again and made me swallow the amulet, then took me far into the Western Lands. He left me there, alone and wounded, and told me never to come back if I valued my father's life."

She swallowed. "All he had to do was ask, and I would have given him all that he wanted. It hurt more than anything that he thought he had to threaten me to get what he wanted. He should have known I would never have rebelled against him." Her eyes closed. "He had me write a letter saying I'd eloped with my lover from the court. I had no lover." It was eerie, how the tears ran down in utter silence while she spoke with a perfectly even, unbroken voice.

"I spent the next nine months wandering the Western Lands, staying in one place after another as long as I could, until they discovered my mystical talents and drove me out, or a raid demolished whatever town I was in. That was when you found me." She looked up at him, eyes deep and too sorrowful for any mortal to bear. "I almost hoped you would kill me. But I never meant for the others to be harmed. I'm so glad you didn't take me up on the offer I implied." She looked away, ashamed. "I'm such a coward."

"No, you are not." He hadn't even realized he'd spoken until after the words hung in the air. "What was done to you is abominable. Ryuunomei is already a dead man walking, but I think I shall kill him a little extra for this." The force of his cold anger stunned him. She was only human. But somehow it was hard to remember that 'human' and 'youkai' meant different things when her eyes met his, diving as deeply as possible, perhaps looking for something to give her hope.

Whether or not she found it, he did not know, for in a twinkling the pain in her face vanished, locked away again in its dark little corner of her brain. A falsely bright expression pasted itself over her real one. "Sing for me!" she cried in a mockery of cheerfulness.

He only looked at her.

"Come on, I want to dance. Sing for me!"

He sat, silent and impassive.

When she saw that no song was forthcoming, she pursed her lips and stood up unsteadily. "Fine then. Be that way. I'll sing for myself." And sing she did, clear and tuneful despite her intoxication and the pain that still echoed around her. And as she sang, she danced.

The flickering firelight created the illusion that she wasn't remaining entirely within the form of her body, as though her spirit was flickering out beyond the borders of her flesh. The pain was in there, black and sinuous, but only served as a facet of the whole.

It was dizzying, and mesmerizing.

He watched.

Her arms floated like live things, undulating serpentine through the thick air of the cavern. Her legs, invisible beneath the night-black hakama, seemed to float, never quite touching the stone but always moving.

He watched.

The heavy curtain of sable silk that masqueraded as her hair seemed light as moonbeams as she spun, ebbing and flowing about her head in a midnight tide.

It did not seem strange to think her beautiful, not now. She was so graceful. It was only natural.

Her lashes lay thick and dark on her cheek as she danced blindly, dangerously close to the fire but always seeming to know where it was. It became a prop in the story her limbs were telling, a supporting player.

He watched, and the slippery slope was there again, waiting for his decision. Still he stood wavering. Mai... what about Mai... my love, beloved, Mai, Mai, Mai...

Izayoi.

Time slowed and stopped for the dog lord as he began to understand.

At long last, he understood what his beloved mate had seen in the humans in her last few centuries. What she had seen that had made her defend them, fight for them, even love them. This was what she had seen-- that the light of life burned brighter in those whose lives were shorter.

This woman in green before him showed him, swaying motion by gentle smile, why humans were not inferior.

He looked at the slope again, and decided. The beckoning darkness would win its long battle with his ingrown code, the pathway he'd rutted himself into. But not yet. He would not step off yet. Not until...not until... he wasn't sure what the breaking point would be, but now was not the time and so, he resisted.

I will. I will remember truth, and pain. But not now.

Now, all he wanted was to watch Izayoi dance.

He watched her dance for hours. She was inexhaustible, at sharp odds with her earlier state of depletion. It was almost as if dancing rejuvenated her, and perhaps it did. The longer she danced, the more alive she seemed. Her gentle voice grew stronger and clearer, pure and haunting as its dance within a dance curled in his ears. Time seemed a silly thing, a mortal invention that meant little and affected less. In the small cave above the dying castle, she danced in the firelight forever.

And when her dance was done, she laid next to him and it was all perfectly all right. He fell asleep with her filling the hollow in his side, and she slept with a hollow to sleep in.

There were no more decisions that night.


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A/N: Ah, the joys of working out issues vicariously through fictional characters. Forgive me for the angst... I'm really a very happy person. Writing is what takes care of all the little bits of ugliness I find within myself, and you get subjected to those. Love me anyways.

Concritters get passionate kisses. Flamers get kisses with teeth. Whatever floats your boat.