Tis' fit we understand @undermine-the-instinct - Tumblr Blog

Jul 13

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

{PART 2 OF IV}

Sesshoumaru x Reader Read on A03... WC: 15.8K

Masterlist.../ Previous.../ Next...

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

Warnings: Child abuse, child endangerment, character death, mysongynistic overtones, gore. The worst of it will be seperated by a thick red divider towards the end of the chapter.

At some point, you grow tired, and fall asleep, Rin in your arms, pearl shard tucked away. The sound of the rain is soothing, even if the change in the air makes your hair rise. You hope you don't shock the girl. You don't dream.

At some point, you startle awake, shocked by a cold drip of water on your cheek. You wake to a mouth full of teeth, a flash of silver rushing, and gasp.

“Wake up!” In another breath, your eyes fly open and you shoot up, your arm numb under Rin’s head.

“Bwahh??” She blubbers. Your head thuds. You can hear your blood in your ears. A-un bumps into your side, affectionate, while Jaken slides off his back in a sopping wet hurry.

The dregs of your dream drain from memory. The chill remains. “Oh, wait, you’re back?”

“And you're barely coherent! Arise!” He slams his staff to the ground. “I have survived to bring my news to the Lord!”

“He’s not here,” Rin mumbles into you.

“What do you mean?!”

“He went to fight the demon of that town. He said to stay here; The storm will pass un a few days but we’ll be leaving after.” As you speak, Jaken tries wringing the clothes on his body of water. Droplets hiss when they touch fire.

“I don't suspect that he is unable to return. But there is more to that nest in the mines than just a few demons!”

“Mines? Just what happened to you?” Those seem to be the magic words he was hoping for, because he plops down on the floor while A-un walks off to shake out his mane.

“I was out, on a mission by my Lord, to acquire much needed herbs for…for his purview.”

“Okay…?”

“I stumbled upon an altar of sorts, outside of a half boarded mine entrance, covered in claw marks and black soot. Just look at my clothes! Ruined!!”

“Fresh soot? That means something is still burning down there.”

“I smelled sulfur. Nothing could burn without setting everything alight. Smoldering. It matches what we’ve seen among the broken houses in this town!!”

“...Tunnel.” Both of you turn to Rin, who hides further in your sleeve.” “The tunnels.”

“Tunnel? What tunnels? Is that what he meant by you going off on your own?” The girl only shrugs, and you could wrangle her. “Rin? Answer me!”

“Outside the mine there were offerings upon an altar, including silver utensils and a bowl of white rice. Steaming rice.”

“Oh, nope. I’m out.”

“Exactly!! So, when I turned to leave, I heard noises. I dared them to approach, when a young male's voice called out to me, ‘You are very welcome inside’. Then, pairs of hands shot out and grabbed me, dragging me!”

“Oh no….” Rin mumbles.

“Now, because of the sulfur, I could not release flame in the mines without killing myself. So I flooded the tunnel we were in, but alas, we were all swept in further.

“What I experienced was an intricate tunnel of paths carved in the mountain, deeper than the mine chutes. The old silver mine channels are a coverup for what is really down there! I did not go too deep to the lower levels, but, I could feel a large demon slumbering down there! I felt dread! I knew I had to get out as soon as I could!” He shivers, holding onto himself.

“I thought going up would be my ticket out, but soon, I was almost caught by a male naga there- with a silver tail and hair. He said I should to follow him for the way out. I did for a time; I lost him before he could catch my trail. When I finally made out, A-un found me,” the beast rumbled, coming close. “And that's how I came to be here, with you all, alive still. Thank the Lord!”

“But what did you want to tell him,” you ask. “You said you have news.”

He pauses. Then he gasps. “Right! Yes!!!’ He shoots to his feet. “I noticed-The naga who led me out– he had the same scent signature as that boy Lord Sesshoumaru disciplined, the rice farmer's son!”

“Takashi-kun?” You frown. “What do you mean by scent…?”

“That same cheap spiced smell!!” He waves his staff. “Oh, it wasn't him I would have recognized his face, but those hands that grabbed me? That male naga? All similar scents!! And Lord Sesshoumaru had met the demon of the town, but he had dark hair and white scales. This one had silver hair and scales.”

You nodded expectantly. “...And this means…?”

“Dont be daft! Those similar scents, the Innkeepers sons who are ‘arriving’, sending you to the streams, the rice farmers boy attacking you, the scent of his blood there. They've been trying to fool us! To get to you!!”

“But the people of this town want the demons gone, so why anger the one who seems most probable to do it? And why me? Waaaaiit wait wait-” you cut him off. “It's whatever makes me so irresistible to demons, right? So, what, I'm bait?”

“....Essentially.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Sesshoumaru also said that the youkai signatures all resemble each other. With Numachi’s husband and kids, and his mistress babies… But then why would Takashi-kun's scent be similar to the demons? He’s human."

Jaken groans. “You are daft. The only reason that the boy's scent would be similar to the demons there was if he was a demon. It's not impossible for a demon to masquerade as a human.”

You and Rin share a look, though her eyes are half lidded. “But he has multiple sisters, I saw them myself. Earlier, the farmer came to the inn and his daughter had to save him. Wouldn’t Lord Sesshoumaru notice them then? Ooh, or how about when he made Takashi bleed?” You shrug. “I think he would have noticed.”

“It's a very slim chance they could have avoided our Lord’s notice… I had initially suspected the boy was a victim of the demons with how much blood I smelt there. He was injured already.

“But even then, the scent signatures are too similar. Even if they're human, he, and his sisters for that matter, are involved with the demons there. But no human could survive down there with that amount of sulfur.” You gasp. You snap your fingers in an ‘aha’ moment.

“Maybe they’re hanyos! Like, you know, half blooded–”

“I know what a hanyo is."

"Like Lord Sesshoumaru's brother, right?"

"That blasted bastard Inu-yasha,” Jaken grouches, mocking the name. He rolls his eyes.

“Wait, aren't hanyos like, super powerful? Wasn't it a hanyo who took Lord Sesshoumaru’s arm? And he's going to go fight a nest of them?”

“What?!” Rin shoots up, hair in disarray. “Wait, what?!”

“No! No!” Jaken waves his staff. “That mutt was only that strong because of the blade left to him by the late Lord Tōga-Ō!”

“Oh, that blade…Tessaiga? Isn’t that the blade Sesshoumaru really wants? The one he’s kinda feigning over? And, wasn't that blade Sesshoumaru’s dad’s blade?”

“How dare you! But...yes.”

You’re confused. “...Yes? So then why did his dad leave a hanyo a precious heirloom, should'nt it go to his– OHMYSTARS.” Jaken yells in frustration and you gasp even louder. “THE ONE HE FOUGHT WAS HIS BROTHER? INU-YASHA?! IT'S THAT OBVIOUS?!!”

Jaken screams. “How did you get to that conclusion!?”

“Why else would that guy have one of his Dad’s blades?! Ohmygoodddd,” you groan, head in hand.

Well, that explains why he was so butthurt about the situation. This wasn't just a grudge, it was a blood feud.

“No matter,” aha, does he think he can just wave your new revelation away? “If they are hanyos they still would have those distinct scents. They did not.”

Your hands come to your forehead, peeling your skin back to open your sleepy eyes.

You sigh. “Fine, let's put ALL that aside for now. Somehow, the children of the rice farmer are involved. Maybe more of them, if this is a plot as you've said."

“The hands that dragged me into the mines were feminine! And the one who led me out had a different voice than the first who invited me in.”

“Two men and two women at least then. Neither are Takashi, but the girls could be his sisters. I know he has four of them, and the youngest was at the inn, she had said her sister sent her.”

But Jaken finally peeled out of his drenched outer layers, reclining by the fire, soaking in the warmth. He looked comfortable, eyes closed in bliss. “Actually, none of this is pressing news,” Jaken shrugs. “Nothing our lord can not uncover when he goes looking, and in battle, he will emerge victorious. No need to complicate things.”

“Whats with the switch up? There's no telling what kind of battle he will face with them.”

“He’ll win, regardless.”

There's still a throb low in your gut, and an ache to your limbs. Your body longs for sleep, and for him, and yes, you know he is soon to return. His strength is dependable; Whatever lies within that town or mountain will fall. You can rest. He will return.

But unharmed?

He’s already come back to you once, hair limp, bloody, arm missing. Eyes pin-pricked in pain, not focus. It wasn't your place then to wonder or speculate, perhaps it isn't now. Perhaps he expects you, like then, to accept what he brought before you and let things settle back into an ordinary picture. That is a choice.

Something irks you, though. You can't have calm dreams as it stands anyways.

“We have to go to him.”

“Can’t. It's pouring now, anyways.”

“So? You have news. I also have news for the Lord.”

Jaken pauses, and in that spli-second he sneers, full and mean and snide. “...I think it's too early to be certain for you.”

His eyes drop, below your bosom to your belly. The euphemism is not lost on you, and you throw your shoe at him immediately, he scrambles to dodge.

“Not that kind of news, asshole. Don't be gross.”

“You’re not very subtle. I could smell it from outside. The Lord must be very agitated to be so bold.”

“Bitch." You circle him around the fire, your other shoe poised to strike. "Don't insinuate.”

“Eventually it will happen. Natural, even. Finally learnt your place?”

“Asshole,” you throw, but he dodges, smile slipping-- not keen it seems on playing up to these antics. “I’ll spit roast you. over this fire.”

He doesn't even retaliate, justs lets the moment go with no more preamble or grunge, moving on.

“So? What reason do you have to go to him? It must be a good one to disobey him.”

“...” In truth, no, you don't. You're just worried, and… maybe you can convince him. To leave, you don’t know.

But, you're also not dumb. You're not obtuse, or dense. Even if it's easier to pretend sometimes.

“Well, I want to ask him about this thing I have.”

“What?”

“I took it from Numachi-san’s room when we left, and I'm not sure if it's valuable or not.”

“You want to go to him… to appraise some junk you stole.”

“Its not junk, I swear. It looks pretty important.”

Jaken doesn't look impressed, and even A-un stares you down with something like apprehension.

“Do not bring something so trivial to the Lord, human. What a stupid reason. Let me see it, I will appraise it–”

As he speaks you reach inside your collar, bringing out your hand, unfolding the silk careful around the shard when–

“Where in the hells did you get that?” Jaken, and even A-un rush forward, and reflexively you retract your hand.

“I just said from, from the inn? I took it before we left?”

“This?!”

“Yes?” Your voice pitches. “Is this important?”

“This?? The old woman was hiding this…?” Even with your fist closed Jaken reaches out and cradles it, his eyes wide with wonder. A-un sniffs your fist like you're holding a treat, twin heads star eyed. He’s drooling.

“Is this something…?” Good? Bad?

“Oh, it's something…a wonder. A terrible, terrible wonder is what this is…” After another moment of awestruck staring at your fist, Jaken shoots his head up with an audible crack. “We must go alert the Lord.”

“Huh-” Rin blinks away as he moves to pace, blinking wearily.

“What? Now you’re gungho?”

“A shard of the Shikon jewel!! Here! This news will greatly serve our Lord!!” He stops, stunned. “Now I know what that feeling of dread was, for surely no other demon than my Lord could inspire such awe and fear…And he’s going to fight that?” He squawks, and immediately goes to grab at A-un.

“Come, give me the shard and I’ll–”

“Hell no.”

‘Wha-”

You shove the shard back into the folds of your clothing. “Demons go crazy after this thing, right? You and A-un are literally drooling. I'm keeping it.” You set Rin on her feet, and she groans, almost flopping back.

"Staaaayy."

"I'm not leaving you alone little miss."

“Humans also lust after the Shikon jewel. I should hold it.”

“Well, my lust is currently sated.” You grin when Jaken flushes, pales and then gags, gathering your robe. “I’ll hold this for the Lord. Perhaps, if there are more of these things around, they seem to be pretty important, he could use them–”

“Do not disrespect him!” Jaken shouts and you jump a foot, so different from his theatrics. This is genuine. “The Lord does not seek any of the shards of the Shikon jewel. It is only that if there are shards here, then that means that that damned Naraku- curse the name,” he spits, “was here, or is going to be here. This is important, the Lord must know these details.”

Naraku. You've heard the name in passing, hushed under breath and with downturned eyes. Your Lord mentioned him once to you, once, with a simple warning:

‘He likes theatrics. And to chase. He is a demon that feeds off fear. If you encounter him alone, wait for me. And die fighting.’

So you suppose you wouldn't last long enough for him to rescue you if that demon were to somehow get to you. And he might have been here?

“What If he’s here then?”

“Then he’s watching with glee, no doubt. Best give him a reason to seethe,”Jaken growls.

“...” You only pause for a moment, to gather yourself. “It's best if we stick together then. A-un?” Said beast snorts, shaking his great head. His scales were still shiny and slick with water.

“Tie a cloth about the saddle so you can't slip off his scales. It's still raining.” A boom of thunder accentuates his words. “A-un and I could survive a lightning strike but you two cannot. But if there's any chance of that demon's handiwork, you ought not to be left here.”

So you do just that, reaching through your supplies and finding a cloth large enough to knot under A-un’s belly. It will have to do.

Harvesting wild rice Among the marsh waters of the Yodo: After rain, Extraordinarily the waters Overflow, as does my love.

Kiyohime’s mother dies before her next set of twins are born. Her father had already died before her sons Takashi and Kikyomizu were born, so she knows what to do.

But she’s not allowed to do much–bad for the babes in her belly. So she wets her mother's lips with her last taste of water, and washes her body, and places her head upon a pillow. Her mother had died in her sleep, and in Kiyohime's dreams her face is smiling. Like she found more peace in death than she ever did in life.

Jugonshi-san, the most spiritual in this town, is notified, and she tells them to prepare the kyuzen nikku twice a day until her body and spirit are resting, whilst she goes to prepare herself and the shrine.

Funerals are very important her. It's horrible enough to be surrounded by demons (by her), no one needs a vengeful ghost as well to torment them. So her mother’s body is placed within a box, and brought to the broken shrine to be purified and prayed over. Masaki-san performs the senrei sai, the transferring of her mothers spirit.

She doesn't eat any of the food. She thanks the mourners who pass by and whisper words of kindness to her mother before she is cremated. She’s made to sit while Taiga-san, Jugonshi-san, and Masaki-san purify the room her mother died in, remove the funeral altar, and set aside a new one with offerings to the Gods. Its the last time she steps in her old family home. There is no one with her for the Kotsuage.

Taiga-san’s hands tremble now, and she did not want her children to be so close to these ashes. So she makes likes she is two people, a pair of chopsticks in each hand, and passes the bones of her mother from one hand, to the other, to an urn. The sounds of bones clicking against each other could almost pass as music.

Ayumi-chan appears, wide and dark eyed as always. She doesn't flinch.

And she doesn't speak, not yet so Kiyohime does.

“I would hope, Ayumi-chan,” it would be a drawl if her voice had any emotion in it, “that your husband would be decent enough to not give my mother any company on her way to the afterlife.”

“It's harder to control himself, on new moons. But I made sure he wouldn't. He wouldn't want to trouble you either.” A huff of breath, weak. Ayumi-chan watches her sift through the ashes. It took days for the burning to reduce her to ashes.

“Did your mother know about your children?”

“Would it matter? As soon as I married she never spoke to me again. Like she completed her life's mission. My children only know of her because I bothered to tell them of her. Father was even worse when he was alive,” she sighs. “I can hope now, at least, she can rest somewhere that's not some tiny, dull corner of the world.”

“Flowers were placed on her coffin, and not a sword for the senrei sai. We have one specifically for these sorts of things, Kiyohime.”

“And I’ve been here longer than you have, Numachi-san. I know. That sword will be cursed if we keep using it over and over. for the same empty, meaningless deaths.” She has to reach far, past where her belly extends and pushes her farther away from the other edge of the tray.

“My mother loved the flowers that bloomed at the edge of town. Never let herself get them, too dangerous, and my father agreed.” Her voice goes soft. She loved her mother, after all. “She can go pluck them all to her heart's content, now.”

“...It was a kind thing for him to do. Shows that he's not all gone this time of month.” Ayumi-chan stands to her full height, and Kiyohime notices that her children are not with her, a rare occurrence. Hiroya, with the knowing eyes and ready smile. Ren, with the round face and curled hands.

“Have you wondered why I have not birthed him more children?”

“Huh?” A bone almost slips her grasp but she catches it in time.

“You’ve given him two sons and a daughter. Soon to be two, or more, with the size of your belly. Most women in my position would think themselves in jeopardy of losing their husband’s favor.”

“But you're not.”

“But I'm not,” she nods. “I could have birthed more. Sometimes I think I want to, or would have.” Ayumi crimps her neck to the side, and from the peek of her collar, Kiyohime notices a patch- a bandage on her neck, wrapped tightly.

“Its not common knowledge among the commonfolk, but I learned at the shrine I was birthed at that people… Humans aren't that different from animals. Some of us give off scents, pheromomes–some stronger and some sweeter to others. To demons. That, is you and I.” Her neck cracks as she rights herself.

“They call us Omega. The sweet, fecund ones.You just don't hide it. You never learned how to and apparently…it would be too little too late for you. It is how you survived birthing so many of his children, if you survive this one. Alpha, I believe he's called?”

“What are you talking about.” Kiyohime has been still this whole time, listening. “I’m picking the bones out of my mothers ashes and you're talking to me about attracting a man? Specifically him?”

“I wanted to let you know. I’m… feeling sentimental. I lost my mother when I was very young. She was a miko. I was a mikogami. I was…people held expectations of me. I wonder how my father fares.

“I’m… not sure what my mother would say of my decisions, here and now. You don't have to wonder, because your mother never cared. I almost envy you.”

“Get out.” Kiyohime’s fingers tighten on the silver utensils. “Please get out.”

“You’ve coupled during your heats with him, when you're most fertile and eager, which is why you conceived so easily. It was the same for me. But when mine arrives, I perform a kagura, it keeps us both pure; We work well together. I am the child of Susanoo-no-mikoto. For Mutsu, as a child of Tsukuyomi-no-mikoto, the loss of the moon enhances his demon self. The Kagura is almost enough to keep him from annihilating this backwater town.” She sniffs, and pats down her collar.

“If you want–”

“I said get out.”

“If you want, go to the apothecary. She can get you the patches to hide your scent. After a while, they dull down the temper of your heats as well.” And she gathers herself, and leaves towards the door.

“The only reason people keep dying in this town is because you cannot restrain yourself. One indulgence becomes an excuse for another, then another. You're a mother, not a child, Kiyohime. Learn some discipline.” And before Kiyohme could yell back or retort, she leaves.

The silver feels cold and useless in her hands, now.

———

“Is it true, about him?” Is what she wants to ask. “Is she right about me?” But things get a lot more clear when you see your children sitting atop the corpse of a ronin, their father watching with a fond smile.

Hiroya taps Takashi on the shoulder from behind, and runs as he turns, prompting her boy to chase after him. He slides off the man's back and blood comes with him, on his tiny, precious hands.

Each breath is a conscious pull. “What have you done? Mutsu, what is this?”

“The Ronin was sneaking about the town's edge.”

Kushinadahime sits with the other boy, Ren. They’re playing some hand game. “...And? That warrants death?”

“He cut me!” Her heart jolts, and from behind Mustsu comes her child. Her boy.

Kiyomizu. “He saw my tail and came at me, laughing, so I went away, but he was fast. That's when Father and Hiroya and Ren came and saved me.” He shrugs, he’s no more than five, but he’s taller than Takashi.

His scales scatter rainbows like glass shards. Mutsu was right- he does shine. “We played, together. Takashi got hurt but he heals so fast. Faster than me! Now the man is sleeping.”

Sleeping, sleeping right…

“Kiyomizu… A-and,” she stutters. “What about Takashi-kun? And Kushinadahime-chan? Do you know how they got here?”

He shies away from her reaching hands. “Yoshida-san is sleeping. And Father knew you’d follow his note so he took us out to play together.” The body twitches and they all, save Mutsu, flinch.

Kiyomizu gives a nervous laugh. “I don't get to play outside a lot. Jugonshi-san lets me be with father but I mean with the other kids. You know?”

You know? With Father?? Like hell, she knows now. She's going to spit fire at that old bag.

“All this talk, and you’ve yet to greet her,” Mustu nudges him forward. “Is this your first meeting? Come, show your respect.”

“Oh yeah! Hello Yoshida-san,” he bows his head, a fast bob, then cringes when Mustu takes him by the back of the neck to stand, well, stand, or bow, in front of her.

“Is that the proper way to address her?” Mutsu says, and pushes his head down before releasing him. “Show respect to your mother, boy.”

“Mother?!” Her children turn towards her, shock and joy on their faces. But it’s Kiyomizu who gasps the loudest, who breaks free from his father and slips right into her arms. Her heart breaks just a little further.

-----

“Not getting involved doesn't mean handing him off to a demon when you're busy, woman!!”

“Don’t yell in my house. And so what? It’s not just any demon, it’s his father. He’s stable enough. I couldn't keep him out if I tried.”

Mikogami. “Well you can try a little harder.”

Jugonshi-san exhales loudly and slaps a package down on her counter. It’s her bandages. Kiyomizu is in the back room, snuggled in her robe. He said he likes her scent, and her clothes are worn soft by time.

“Listen, Kiyohime, the boy obviously isn’t going to live a good life around humans. So why not learn from one who could… understand him a bit better?”

“I understand him plenty,” she snaps. I’m his mother, dammit.

-----

She doesn't go back to the pond. She doesn't call Ayumi-chan or Jugonshi-san when her water breaks. In the morning, her cousin Masaki-san gasps when she checks the house for a late Kiyohime; Many people have those to check their homes if they are not seen, in case they are taken or vanished. Masaki-san gasps when she grins, two pink babes in her hands. She names her daughters Tamayorihime and Toyotamahime, after the sea princesses. Her pearls.

Kushinadhime adores and laughs over them, their tiny fingers and soft lashes. Even without scales they shine. Takashi wonders over them as well, but the wonder wears off when she forbids him to leave the house or the paddy field after sunset. Anywhere else he must have an adult with him.

“Listen to your mother, Takashi.” Taiga-san puts his foot down and her son stops his whined crying. But, she allows him to keep the ronin’s sword–that was his own compromise. If he can't see his brother, he can at least train, in secret, to protect them all right? Father doesn't need to know he still has it.

Which one? Guilt gnaws.

Takashi and Kushinadahime follow her to her pond. Takashi trains, a basic stance and swing set, and Kushinadahime is transfixed by the light on water. She sits in the cool shallows, with the twins kicking their feet on the water's surface, enjoying the moonlight with her children; When the cicadas go silent she rises, ignoring the sharp pains of afterbirth and hurries her children back to the house.

Taiga-san welcomes them back, and feeds them rice by hand. He tucks the children in, and after the twins have fed from her breasts, he changes and tucks them in too. He rubs her back until she falls asleep, sitting like that. Always, when she awakes, she is under the covers with the sounds of breathing around her. She’s always missing one.

She’s starting to think whether or not she should come forth with the truth. Other times, she thinks she will die carrying it. Or passing it on to her children.

She makes a point to start visiting her son more often.

“The apothecary was right to warn me about you.”

It's not hard to sniff out her place of work. And he doesn't try to hide either– he walks right into town and the people there, preparing for the storm, stare wide eyed before they scurry out his way with half bows and prayers.

Fools. It's not the deference that pleases him. It's the fear.

There's an added layer of panic when they see where he’s going, the few that try to deter him with words wither under his glaring.

The door is locked, but Sesshoumaru just peels it back like a film of skin, vernix, flaying. He steps inside.

It's dark. Sharp and bitter scents of green, the powdered sweetness of old blooms, strange poultices. Whoever was here, has left, and very recently. He recognizes one scent; Warm, tannins, thin under smoke and rainwater, the telltale sweetness of an omega. The rice farmer's youngest daughter. The other, he doesn't recognize, but it's clear–Alpha. Old, and faded, but heavy, like wet wool. The apothecary must have bid the girl leave, then.

Whoever is left then must answer his questions. And he knows he is not alone. Softened footsteps, still loud to his ears, to the back; Slow, if labored, breathing. Sesshoumaru recognizes the pattern of it, that pounding of heart. Something alights like a predator's instinct in his senses, sharp and delightful.

He walks to the back of the shop, taking note of the open door and the cloying-smelling fuming pot on the stove there. He steps in, douses the flame under. He goes to the only other door in the back, and opens it.

Immediately- a blade to his face. With a simple arc of poison from his nail, the blade dissolves in two.

Oh, but the old man is not to be deterred though, coming at him with his pinky stub of a weapon. All Sessoumaru has to do is grab his wrist, tighten his grasp until it creaks, and he drops the blade.

He’s annoyed that he remembers this fool's name. “Taiga Yoshida. The humble rice farmer.”

He laughs, a foul breathed wheeze.

“I didn't expect you to keep your word. You're a demon, it’s no surprise you're a liar too.”

Sesshoumaru doesn't award him an answer; he tosses his wrist to the side and pushes him further into the room. He shuts the door.

…Already, he’s rambling. For his wellbeing, Sesshoumaru will filter out the nonsense. He won't be here long.

“Where did the apothecary who lives here go? And your daughter, to leave you here, all alone?”

“You’ll never get to her. Thank goodness she left before you could get to her,” Sesschoumaru scoffs. “You’ll kill me, but I’ll scream so loud everyone around knows not to come here, demon.”

“Why would you tell me that? I could rip out your throat now then, idiot. I walked through the front door. I did not sneak,” he sneers.

The old man steps forward, for another bluster or diatribe, but Sesshoumaru just lifts a hand and pushes him again. He lands on the open futon, and Sesshoumaru is loomed above him before he can get his feeble bearings.

He stares. He stares and he cringes back.

“...If you didn't come to kill me, or us, then what have you come for?” Bravado blusters in the face of mortality. How refreshing.

“Let's be simple about this. You will have a chance to make up for your transgressions– by satisfying my curiosity.” Sesshoumaru notes the bag at the foot of the futon. Hastily wrapped things, wrapped in dark fabric. Some of the shelves in the room too, they lie open– no doubt stolen. He looks at Taiga, whose face flushes darkly, and he knows too.

“Where did the apothecary go?”

“Apoth…? Oh, Jugonshi-san,” his ears perk at the title. “I…do not know. If it so much as drizzles she refuses to make her rounds. I have no idea where she might have gone in this weather.”

“No idea?” He would lean in if didn't want to smell anymore of his old flesh.

He swallows. “Sometimes…sometimes she goes to the abandoned shrine to pray. It’s pretty close to the new moon, so, she's probably preparing it for the next funeral. “

“Why is such a desperate town without a shrine?”

“We have one, it's just been abandoned since the Kannushi died, way back when my grandfather was still young. Eventually the priests and miko left were picked off. Hardly anyone goes there anymore.”

“Except for Jugonshi-san.” He knows where it is. He passed by it getting the two of you to safety. That should be his next stop then.

“And your daughter?”

“...”

“The child.”

“...My daughter…accompanied her, most likely.”

Sesshoumaru clicks his tongue. “And what of your other daughters? I know your son was your eldest, and that girl is barely older than the child in my midst–where are the others?”

Yoshida titters, exhales through his nose and averts his eyes, it's an awkward thing. “It's…a womanly thing they endure, every month. The bleedings, you know…? They seclude themselves during this time. “

“Bleedings.” And, yes, the heats. It's faint, beneath the smell of old flesh and medicine, the brine of grains and heated waters of a paddy. Something a hint like floral, fermented fruit, metallic and alluring.

It’s not his. His daughters, of course. Sesshoumaru thinks that this man’s scent must be like his son’s–tangy, spiced, a heavy foul musk. But it's much weaker– a beta, an old one. Sesshoumaru’s glad he did not give into the curiosity to taste the boy's blood. The taste would have fouled his mood for weeks.

“Who accompanies them. Surely they are not alone?”

“...Yes, they. Not many of our women in the village are young or healthy enough to bleed anymore. We’ll probably die out in the next generation or two.”

“And the ones who do? You seclude them. Why.”

“The blood attracts demons. My daughters have always chosen to leave, and they’ll be kept safe by the wards anyways–” Immediately his jaw snaps shut. He looks up at Sesshoumaru as if checking to see if he caught his slip, but by his face, he knows they both did.

“Most women here know a spell or two. And the wards in that place are old. They hold up.”

Most women? How interesting, Sesshoumaru thinks. It would explain the town's size–for a place plagued by demons, most aren't afraid to walk in daylight, only fearing a specific time of month. Like most women usually do.

“The demons of this town. The ones you worship and the ones you revile. Tell me of them. There is no spiritual artifact calling them here nor many delightful humans to stalk.” Evidence right in front. “Tell me of them.”

“The demons are here because of the Daimyo!” The old man yells, but when Sesshoumaru’s hand twitches, he flinches back.

“Not… not the one who died, recently. When the Kannushi first came here–”

“Came here? He was from another shrine?”

“Yeah, er….my grandfather was with the Kannushi in their first shrine when they left, and came here. The Kannushi had performed a kagura without permission, and he and a miko had a mikogami. The Kannushi wasn't the head in that shrine, so the Kannushi there banished him. But, he took his kid with him in the night and vanished. Eventually they came here and…made a living among our people.”

And conveniently named himself Kannushi of this shrine? “What shrine did he come from?”

“A big one. The Gassan shrine, that's why they wanted to keep the kid there so bad. That Mikogami’s father was Tsukuyomi-no-mikoto. Born with the white hair and everything.”

It isn't hard to find Kushinada-hime. Hiroya’s rushing through the veins of the mountain when she appears like blood burst out of an artery; violent and flushed from heat.

“Woah! Are you–”

“I’m fine.” Like her sisters, her hair is loose, damp and sticking. She pushes it back from her face and exhales in a loud gust.

“Mother was startled by a lightning strike to the peak of the mountain, but she’s back to resting. Again. As always. What are you rushing for?”

“I was looking for you.”

It isn't hard to explain the situation. Big demon Lord, angry, another demon Lord, roused from slumber, big battle, everyone-dead. She's always been more levelheaded than her other siblings.

Maybe because she was a beta--demonically, at least. Something something clear headed because lack of hormones something sort of thing.

“And that's why I say we should leave. Preferably now.”

“But what about our mother?” The twins speak in unison. Their eyes go back and forth between the older siblings, eyes wide under wet hair. “We can't leave her.”

“Exactly! That's what I'm saying–”

“Takashi,” He’s much too loud, “did you prep them beforehand–”

“No, no, don't cut me off, worm,” He hisses, and if it weren't for the shock of his audacity Hiroya would go over and slap the fangs out his mouth. “You want us to just abandon her? How lucky your mother is to survive this demon too with her demureness and subservience. It's the only thing she knows how to do! My mother doesn't have to resort to schemes and platitudes–let him come, face us head on!”

“It would be wise, for you to watch your mouth, Takashi,” Hiroya drawls. The tip of his tail idly sweeps back and forth. “I won't repeat myself.”

“I’m not lying–”

“The issue is about us. Not about mother, and not about dealing with that Lord.” Kushinadahime moves so she blocks Takashi and Hiroya’s sight of each other. It wouldn’t be an issue to move her if Takashi tries him again. “The question is do we stay? Or do we go?”

“Kushinadahime, why would you even consider that? Obviously we’re staying.”

Hiroya clicks his tongue. “You’re so quick to make decisions for everybody–”

“Hiroya, please? Think about it, Takashi. If he sees us here he’s going to attack first, ask questions never.”

Tamayorihime nods. “With his imp gone, vassal insulted, and appetite whetted, I”m sure he has some motivation for coming to the mountain.”

“We can lose him in the mines. Block off a channel and set it alight. When he’s charred we can drag him down, and then mother–”

“You would rouse her for such a trivial thing,” Kushinadahime snaps at her sister. Her arms unfurl from their crossing. “He wouldn't fall for such a simple trap. He already knows yours and Kiyomizu’s and Takashi's scents, he’d just follow them. Or, follow the scent of his imp, he went down far enough thanks to you two,” the girls flinch and bow their heads.

“Attack first, ask questions never. I wonder where they got that from., hm?

“Hey. Don’t talk to me like that–”

She hisses, leaning into Takashi’s space. “If you had never angered the Lord, then maybe we could have tried for some diplomacy. But no, you're a demon now so you think we can take down the Inu. Lord. Daiyokai? He’s Lord of the Western Lands for a reason!!”

“That’s an inherited title. Meanwhile, it’ll be five against one–”

“I think we go.” Four faces turn to stare at him. Hiroya cuts through the blather. Blah blah blah, dear Kami.

“First of all, it's a guarantee that if he sees us, like this, he will kill us. Especially you Takashi. He doesn't like you. Also–he’s definitely going to try and fight Kiyohime-san. So.”

The siblings cast their eyes like nets around each other, unconsciously drawing closer.

“What is not definite then,” the twins ask.

“What is not definite, is whether or not he can win. Kiyohime-san is rather formidable, even if she's been asleep since, y’know.” He quickly skips over that topic.

“Our priority right now is staying alive. Your mother is going to go all Susanoo if she smells your blood after he kills ya here and then? Goodbye hometown. Goodbye our other siblings.” He turns to the twins. “So on that note girls, I think it's time.”

“You mean now?” The girls perk, wilt, look at one another, and turn back to him with a light in their eyes. They're not much older than Ohatsuhime, are they? Still children, basically.

“Now?”

“It's as good a time as any. Your sister is waiting.”

“Good a time for what. What about Ohatsuhime–”

“I can trust you?” Hiroya holds out a palm, flat to Kushinadahime’s face. Of course from this distance he can't touch her, but the audacity works well to shut her up the same.

Takashi hisses, a scathing commentary. “And you accused me of prepping them beforehand.”

But the girls look towards their oldest brother, not older. Hiroya nods, and they brighten again, holding the hands as they leave for above.

“Girls? Wait, where are you going? Wait!” But the twins were already racing out the channel, soon just a silver speck at its end. Kushinadahime whirls. “What did you tell them to do? Why– are they going to Ohatsuhime?”

“You know, just because they're younger siblings, dear sister, doesn't make them invalid. You can trust them.” He looks pointedly at his brother for that one.

“Where is Kiyomizu? He’s not with Jugonshi-san this time.”

“Then he’s at the shrine. Why?” Takashi crosses his arms. “It's still protected by the old wards. He’ll be fine.”

“Not in the case of a landslide. Or a flood. You should go to him. And then, go find the twins. They should have finished their job and be ready for you both.”

“So you did prep them–”

“And you’re going to stay here, aren’t you.” Kushinadhime's eyes were always darker than anyone else's. Like they could swallow up all light. As children in these tunnels, if he stared at them long enough, his vision would go dark at the edges and then all over. Light and sight, gone until he blinked again.

“Demureness and subservience, right? Respect, deference... If anything, I can get him to spare my life. Perhaps I can ask the same for our mother.” As if on cue, a great sound like a groaning shuddered the walls and their bones.

The shaking in Takashi’s voice doesn't seem to be from that though. “And if not? If he kills you to get to mother? You’ll die for what?”

“I’m our best chance for a chance. If Mother is roused from her dreaming–”

“-She's woken before–”

“-When waking up from a dream is your fear, living becomes the nightmare. If Mother wakes, fully, this town will be crushed. And our siblings will die.” And here she slithers up to her brother, and looks up into his eyes, her hands twitching at her sides.

“As the oldest, I need you and Kiyomizu to look after us. Make sure Father is secured. And if the town does fall… save our sister and brother. They need you more. And at least save Masaki-san.” Hiroya turns away when the sound Takashi makes sounds more like a sob than a laugh.

He doesn't have an obligation to, or a choice. It’s a decision. Hiroya has to wonder if he’d ever been trusted so eagerly.

His brother loves him, to be sure. But Hiroya is the ocean. He swallows everything. He doesn't know if he can love him back.

Does it change the fact, or matter, if he longs to though?

“...I’ll come right back.”

“Please don't, you’ll ruin all my efforts.” A twinned sound, heavy, muffled, Hiroya turns back only when he’s sure they released their embrace.

“I’m going into town too. I can try to buy you some time, but I'm not sure how receptive that Lord will be to my brother or I, after our mother has...”

“Your mother what? Surely whatever she's done isn’t that egregious.” He's going to smack this boy. “She knows how to handle his type.”

“Not this time. I think the white hair set her off. Too many memories tied to the image, y'know?" Hiroya rises, cracking out his long spine, readying to race all the way back up to the world above. “Why do you think Ren and I hardly ever go back home, or stay in the honjin?”

“To escape her coddling, perhaps?”

“Let's go. We don't have much time. Kushinadahime, until we get back, enjoy the peace and quiet, okay?”

“While it lasts.” He can't stand to see that wan smile, so he turns his head and holds out a fist to his younger brother.

“Last one backs a rotten egg?”

Takashi pauses, then pushes out a sigh, pumping his fist against his own. “Oh brother,” he laughs, Hiroya lets him slide in front, “you know we were rotten from the start.”

For love a riverUnending flows;Foam upon the watersAm I yetI’d never perish for not seeing you!

Her last child. Her youngest. Another daughter.

Ohatsuhime.

Her daughter is born when the summer rains have chilled into a hastened Autumn. She is red cheeked and loud; Taiga is awake for when she calls him, and knowing her gender he smiles, yes, but she sees the look in his eyes.

If only you knew, she mourns. If only you knew she was truly yours you would be grateful.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he’d still be disappointed. With no sons to claim his land or daughters to marry off– perhaps things wouldn't change.

So she dreams of nothing. She names her child Ohatsuhime, and just like with the other three the villagers thither and sneer and nag at her choice of name. She does not elaborate nor explain, even when Taiga raises his voice and questions her.

She does not step outside for a time. Jugonshi-san says that Kiyomizu can read simple letters, so she writes to him. She writes to all of them. She wishes she had something of her mother’s.

The bodycount starts to rise.

What was once once a month becomes three, five. Households start vanishing, not singular people.

Should I talk to him? She entertains the thought for a second before discarding it. Don't be crazy. He has his wife for that.

“You think he knows?” The streams are cool and dark under the shade of a wood after noon, and her son lies in her lap, curled. Her letters are scattered around him– she's been reading them to him. Jugonshi-san is not a mother, she does not convey the warmth her voice holds for her child. Takashi and the twins are with Taiga, and Masaki-chan. Kushinadahime and Ohatsuhime are with her.

“Who knows what?”

“Father? That Ohatsuhime isn't his?” Odd, for such a young boy, his words are perfectly enunciated. All of them have matured out of their infantile ways rather quickly–She recalls his clear explanation when she caught them with Mutsu and the dead Ronin. She can't believe she let Takashi keep that blade.

She’s taken to carrying Ohatsuhime in a basket. It's easier on her back, and Kushinadahime can hold her hand more easily, or play with her wisps of hair, like she does now, across the grasses.

Kiyomizu doesn't stutter with his sister's names. He looks her in the eye when she speaks, and when his brow is drawn he looks so severe.

She speaks low so they don't hear her. “Well, why should your father have to know? Or, not know?” But, that only confuses him further; His lip dips in a pout and he looks up at her, hair long and mussed.

“But if she's not Father’s child but Yoshida-san’s… doesn’t that make her not my sister?” Her heart falls before she catches it.

“What?”

He twiddles his thumbs, bashful. “She’s not Father’s child, so she's not my sister, right? At least, I think that's what Father meant…”

“...Kiyomizu.”

She doesn't know what comes over her; She reaches out and cups his face rather violently, lifting him to better see her eyes. Kushinadahime startles towards her at the abrupt motion, dropping her scale necklace into Ohatsuhime’s eager fingers.

“Listen to me,” her voice grits and scrapes. “Your father…it doesn't matter who he is. I am your mother. I held you in my belly. I birthed you, I have cared for you, and loved you before you ever had a name or a soul. You are mine– and I will care for and I will protect you, okay?”

“Okay…” His little voice warbles, muffled as it is with his face between her palms.

“Ohatsuhime is mine. Kushinadahime is mine. The twins, your brother, you. All of you are.”

“...Even Hiroya and Ren?”

“...They are Numachi-san’s sons. But they’re your family too.” She pulls him in to kiss his tears away.

“Your father is very… agitated right now. I want you to stay away from him for now, okay? No more going out into the woods, especially at night. I don't want him to hurt you by accident when…he’s in his moods.” Or on purpose.

“Okay… Numachi-san said he’s inside the mountain to not be hurting anybody. I won't go there when its dark, Mother.”

She tries to follow her own advice. If she sees Mutsu, she turns. She does not make eye contact. The new moon passes and a man loses his heir. The twins' birthday passes and she finds pearls on her doorstep. Families start camping along the streams when the dark night comes; He knows better than to be near her when he’s battling his inner self. He gets too demanding and people clue into the safe haven the waters support.

The streams are where the purest water runs, melted rivulets from the mountain's top. Mutsu mentioned drinking its waters at the height of his delirium, before. He does it again now.

Or maybe hes a ghost haunting her conciousness like a guilty thought. “It’s harder now with so many staying there. Ayumi has to collect it in a special basin for when she performs her Kagura for me. When my Father turns his face in the sky away, and my blessings are at their weakest, the waters help to clear my head, to remind me.”

Of what?

An elusive smile. A snake's mouth cutting to where dimples should be. “Myself. My priorities.”

People notice the safe haven of their paddy. They start to ask if their most vulnerable can sleep within their home and because no one will listen to her she tells Taiga to send them away.

“Why? It’s one night, two or three at most. We can use the help with the household and the children. And if keeping them here for a night saves a just few more people–”

“Worry about your children and wife first. There'd be no room, no privacy. Ohatsuhime is a newborn, she hasn't yet reached her hundredth day. She could fall ill.”

The tents are enough. Better a few mosquito bites than a demon’s.

The season of storms comes. Clouds block the moon. When the night is still enough one could imagine screams rising from the earth, under the hollow sound of the ground, waiting to cave in. She doesn't know if they’re the victims screams or Mutsu’s.

Or hers.

Kiyohime starts to sing again, if only to drown out these sounds. Sometimes she could hear a family outside her home join in. Tamayorihime and Toyotamahime learn the quickest– humming the melodies and words. Kiyomizu thrums a beat on his drum. Ohatsuhime laughs, voice faint. Takashi listens. Kushinadahime likes to try writing her words down and Taiga-san helps her–oh, oh her birthday is next. She will be four, an unlucky number, but it will pass.

So too will the shadow outside her door.

Ren hardly speaks. He prefers not to. Hiroya too; It's something they share in common, even if Hiroya does speak more.

Twins. If he concentrates hard enough, he can see or smell through his brother's senses. And speaking between them wasn't an issue either. Up to a certain distance, they could communicate with their thoughts. It comes in handy, even if it leaves Ren with a splitting headache.

The incapabilities of a beta. Hiroya took too much in the womb.

Ren.

A hum.

Where–

Here. Both of us. Leaving soon.

Don’t stall. Kushinadahime is staying. Twins and Takashi are getting Ohatsuhime.

He wants to shoot back a question, ‘Isn't that a bit risky?’ But his pulse thrums a painful streak from temple to jaw, so he just sends back an affirmative hum, and lets the tension release. He’s already here for someone.

( And maybe then he can go get his mother– )

Would she come with, was the question.

Hiroya would be able to convince her with the straight-minded, no nonsense talk of an eldest son, the common sense of life versus death. But with Ren, Mother was the type to entertain his fears and woes as worrisome things.

The times she did listen to him though, were grave times, and he can only hope his mother’s pride doesn't clash with her self preservation.

Omegas could be just as stubborn as alphas, but mother was just like that as a person. Polite and dutiful, than stern and forebearing. Lax, then highstrung. A demon for a husband and children probably influenced her temperament– and miko girls are all haughty. Funny mother brought that with her from her girlhood.

How did Father ever get her to be so… acquiescent? Or was she that in love? She had to be.

However he could be, Father, when he tried, was a good husband. He did at least one thing right. When he wanted to…Some people in town called him demon, others omen. Others, a blessing with a price. But Mother, she only ever called him 'Anata.'

“When I mention that one specific person, it can't be anyone else other than him.” Perhaps she thought acting the part of a wife would help her feel more like one. Or remind Father of who he was. What.

“Your father is family, Ren. Hiroya. Your family is here."

That's why they left.

"We don't give up on our family. Ever. You hear me? We won't." That’s why he’s here. “Are you listening to me?”

He’s not the one who killed his father. He killed himself long before his physical body died.

Father often slid between two ends of a spectrum. Perhaps that was why they were all born as pairs- the sole exception being Kushinadahime, of course. Perhaps she wasn't an exception but merely caught in the middle, unable to move forward or backward.

In that case, she was more like Father than any of them were. Ren would sympathize, but it would be more pity than anything.

And look at him. Who is he to pity any one?

{ He brought mother blooms- White chrysanthemums brushing her cheeks like seafoam. He pressed the flesh of foreign fruits to their mouths and let them savor the nectar. A moment of sweetness. } Hiroya is so much better at acting the part of 'older brother,' confident and sure. Did he take that too, when they split in the womb? “Kiyo.” Ren’s voice echoes off of wet and rotten wood; a damp sound.

“Kiyo.” He waits, before a clattering turns his head towards the side. It's dark, inside the wrecked shrine, but that's no issue for Ren. Not the same for him, though. His younger brother sucks his teeth, gathering the bowls he dropped. “Stupid... human senses are so weak. I can’t see for shit.”

Ren isn't one to curse, and neither is Kiyomizu, but he’s frustrated, so Ren lets it slide. “Hey. I need to talk to you about what’s happened.”

“Can’t it wait till light? It's so dark. And cold.”

“Here then.” He lights a fire talisman, clearing a spot on the floor and setting it on the driest part.

Kiyomizu lets him do as such, looking up at him with brown eyes, round pupil-ed. It makes him look softer. “Did you see Jugonshi-san for these? She never lets me get the fire ones.”

“No, actually. You know she’s stingy.” Kiyo sighs something like a chuckle, and as he draws closer to the fire, his profile is thrown into sudden, gentle relief. Softened lines. Bare feet, flexing toes. Chewed fingernails. Short hair, soot dark.

His trembling is minute, but it’s there. ”...Are you still cold? I’ll light another.”

“I’m always cold. It is easier to keep warm in a body like this though, thanks. Warm blooded beats cold any day.” As if to spite, a cold gust of wind breaks through the ruined wall, and Kiyo moves to protect the flame.

…The name Shingetsu does not suit his brother. Even if he chose it himself.

“Jugonshi-san came earlier to give me some stuff but she told me I‘m on my own basically. I should have prepared this place beforehand.”

“No matter how you prepare this place, it’s still more holes than structure. You’ll get sick if you stay here.”

“And go where?”

“An abandoned house, perhaps? There's plenty in town.”

He shoots him a disbelieving, unimpressed look. “Thats so disrespectful to those people. Father shattered those houses when… y’know, when my mother…?”

“That was no one's fault but his and he's dead now. Use them. ”

“Oh yeah? What about all the soot then? That’ll be hard to breathe in, human as I am now. Mother’s fumes coat the tunnels to get there and fill those houses like shaken boxes of charcoal. The whole thing is just waiting for a match. No,” he shakes his head. “The shrine is the best spot to hide. Ohatsuhime is already at the apothecary with Yoshida-san and there’s wards down there too.”

Ohatsu. Apothecary, he sends to his brother. Hopefully, Jugonshi-san can make back it in time to greet them.

Help soften the blow, if anything.

“Why didn't you go with them, then? They’d have you stay. Ohatsuhime would make a fuss if Jugonshi-san tried kicking you out.” Ren is not good with words, so it’s awkward trying to find the right ones to emphasize his meaning. “You’re… her friend, and she’d want to see you well.”

Kiyo shivers horribly then, from shoulder to leg, hair raising. “Yoshida-san, and Ohatsuhime of course, don’t know I’m her brother. He’s going to try matching us up again even if Ohatsuhime lays him off again. I’d rather not go through that again.”

Both of them groan out an affirmative, and the air goes silent again, cold whispers tracing their skin from beyond the fire's heat.

Yes. Kiyomizu. Another simple, non-descript young man of the village. One of Jugonshi-san’s messenger boys, hidden for fear of a demon who loves plucking them off. Men have a higher death rate in this town, so that's why the Yoshida family, or anyone, hardly sees Kiyomizu, why no one questions his lack of family, and why Yoshida-san would hurry to marry one of his daughters off to a man near her age.

No one bothers with engagements anymore. When one is announced, the man usually goes missing. Takashi -And Kushinadahime for that matter- curate their mother’s meals thoughtfully, yet pettily.

(Takashi once killed a man who, fifteen years her senior, asked for Kushinadahime’s hand, right to his face like he was commenting on the weather; Takashi didn't wait for new moon, just night.)

Ren sighs. “Why are we keeping this up? Why should Ohatsuhime only know you as Kiyomizu and not Shingetsu, as well?”

“Shingetsu the murderer? Shingetsu the demon? "The same reason I don't head over there right now. To keep her safe. She’s still my sister, even if we have different fathers.” He shoots a sudden, baleful look at Ren. “Why don't you start off by telling her? She already knows about ‘your’ father.”

Ren regrets his reticence at times. Being mostly silent just means you’re always in fear of using the wrong words. Still, he tries to say it kindly. “…Exactly. She has a different Father, Kiyo. She’s not my sister.”

There's no gentler way to say it. It’s obvious. Perhaps her sisters hid the truth in the hopes of holding out, but Ohatsuhime is already a young woman. Upon their first bleedings, every daughter in the Yoshida family had transformed into a naga–it was only through the help and foresight of Ren’s mother, Jugonshi-san, and Masaki-san that the secret had been hidden for so long, much less from the sharp eyes of Yoshida-san.

Ohatsuhime is already a young woman and she has not transformed. Her teeth are not sharp, her eyes do not see farther. She has no scales or talons of venom. She is the only child of Taiga Yoshida.

Kiyo… it's not the first time he’s confronted this reality. But he has a soft spot for the youngest child of Kiyohime-san. “...She is my sister, still. And the one I know best, so I know how she’ll react to this. But, enough about that, that's depressing. You wanted to talk? What happened?”

Ren is thankful for the change in topic. “The Lord took his consort and child out of town. He’s returned though, and seems to be sleuthing, sniffing around. Hiroya and I think he might be trying to piece together the entire story.”

“The story? Of father? Or our mothers? Do you think he suspects us?”

“He should know about my brother and I. If he does not suspect you, he will soon. His steed has gone, no doubt reunited with the imp that the girls tried to hunt in the mountain. The imp’s already met Takashi, smelled his blood–”

“Which he no doubt tracked with him into the mines.” Because of your ‘attack’, no doubt.

“So with the girls bleeding, there's no doubt the connection you share as siblings. Especially if he encounters you–connecting their demon scents to yours, or your human scent to theirs previous.”

“But he never met the girls before to know their scents. Or me as a human.”

“He met Takashi. He met Ohatsuhime when Yoshida went to avenge the death of his ‘heir.’ He can figure it out.”

Kiyo exhales hard, dragging a hand hard down his face. He uses a silver chopstick to poke at the dwindling talisman. There isn't much dry wood around, so Ren will just have to light another one.

“The Lord of the Western Lands travels to collect antiques, stories, things of fable and legend. He fights countless demons, hoping to contend their strength and prove his own. He both saves and punishes. He’s already cleared the demon nests all around the town, and further. The numerous little fucks that kept breeding and hiding that I, or rather we, could never flush out completely.” Kiyo stops poking, and holds up the soot dark end of the chopstick.

“He’s not sleuthing. He’s parsing. Parsing out the strength of the strongest demon. He thinks they’re close by so he’s luring. Once he learns that's it’s Mother… if he hasn't already.. He's probably set on it.” He sets down his utensil. “He’s going to the mountain to kill my mother.”

“There's no guarantee–"

“Don’t patronize me. Mother is formidable, but I won't pretend that half that fear isn't my own awe of her. But that Lord is… she can’t win.”

Ren… doesnt like where his brother's mind is going to. “Will you give up so easily?”

“...My mother died in the waters long ago. I guess it's just time now we finally put her to rest.” Kiyo sighs and stands, lifting his arms and curving his spine.

“I wanted a gentler end for her. I just never knew how to give it to her. It's too late for that now.”

Ren grabs his arm as he passes. His grip is warm from the fire but Kiyo jolts anyway. ”So, what, you’re just going to go help him to kill your mother?”

“What’s your plan? Like you didn't already know about this. I bet you were planning on holing us away and pretending to mediate the situation, huh?”

“There is a chance for diplomacy.”

“You're thinking too much like a human. I didn't slave away for almost two decades," his voice rises, all at once, "culling the demons all around these parts to let this town die in a giant ego battle, you know.” “So you’re helping him.”

“I’m doing what I can. Father did teach me a few good things after all, before he went mad.”

“No,” Ren shakes his head. “He taught you where to place your priorities. You never stopped Takashi, or Kushinadahime, and you're not stopping him.” Ren drops his arm, with more force than necessary.

Kiyo frowns. “I can’t stop anyone while I’m like this. Every month, when I’m weakened and turned human, my brother is strengthened and turned into a demon. I used my last strength before this, ‘setting the scene.’ Just so that Lord would think him dead.” He exhales loudly, hands grasping his hair at the roots.

“I cracked his skull to throw off that dog. I thought i killed him. I thought his moontime wouldnt come in time to heal him, there was so much blood. But, it worked. So long as he lays low, he–”

“-Maybe it's karma for what he gives to others. “ Stereotypical man, stereotypical demon. Dangerous in one form. “The people they've dragged for your mother to eat–”

“I can’t stop him while I’m like that either, Ren,” he hisses. “I can't just slither in broad daylight, and I'm not small enough to stalk the town streets at night and remain unseen. I’ve been stationary most days of my life–”

“And that's your problem. Take some responsibility, won't you?”

“What about you?” Kiyo snaps. “Don’t be a hypocrite. Your mother and brother aid him. Your mother gets more victims, places the bodies and Hiroya’s just the delivery boy, right? And you watch. Thats your thing.

"Everyone thinks you're here to help. Everyone in this town would kiss your feet if it means one more day to live. But do you actually do anything? No. No, that's me.” He laughs, scorns.

“Then go talk to your siblings, Kiyomizu,” Ren barks. “Kushinadahime disapproves but she's not strong enough to stand against him if she tried instead of helping. Takashi takes ‘training’ with the twins and twists it so they think they’re helping their Mother. At least Kushinadahime tries to stomp that down, I do what I can, Kiyo.”

“You weigh your hand on whatever end is lightest. Coming every month, doing the bare minimum and telling us–”

“I’m not the type to impose myself on those who are uncooperative.”

“They're stubborn, not uncooperative. They haven't lived this life like I have, so they think it a lecture when I try to warn them. Who else could tell them? Anyone else could end up dinner,” Kiyomizu grouches. His cheek is mushed against a propped fist, and he picks up his utensil again, drawing in the soot.

"If they don't want to listen to me, maybe they should look at their younger sister as an example,” he grouches. “Live just a little beyond your means, and that's where contentedness lies. I taught her that.”

“...You did.” You set that example.

“...” But your means are so thin, brother.

They have to leave. They're wasting too much time. Already, Ren can imagine the frown on Hiroya’s face. His mothers waiting, folded hands.

He needs to get her somewhere safe. He needs to bring his siblings, and Ohatsuhime all together so that he can help smooth over the revelation of their patronage. He needs to get his mother out. Masaki-san too. Jugonshi-san. A few more people, maybe. Plenty of them, actually.

How is a different, later story.

“Kiyo. Your siblings already left the mountain. At least, we should meet up with them after they get Ohatsuhime–”

“Ohat–why are they going over–?” Realization dawns on his face. Ren bolts to his feet a second after his brother. He follows his backward step with one of his own. “No,” Kiyomizu denies, “no, no she can't know yet.”

“If not now, when? You have to tell her.”

“Is that the pressing issue here? When everyone here could die? Why here, why now?!”

“Because–” Its not Ren’s voice that answers, “ –just based on what I've heard–” They both whirl, stand to full height, wide stance.

The person leans against a boarded up hole in one of the walls. They must have slipped in from a pried board. Unfamiliar. Dread–Ren feels it first, then confusion; They hover against the darkness of outside.

The fire talisman can only draw the outline of their profile. A nose, an arm. “It's better if she learns from your mouths than seeing a den of familiar faced snakes be torn apart. You ought to be quick– My Lord is not a very patient fellow at the moment.”

The rain must have hid the sound of their approach. The piles of broken wood and old draping fabric hiding them from view.

But, how could Ren not notice them? Spiritual energy leaks and wavers from their form in tendrils, like cracks in a crackling, frozen river. But underneath it, therethere. That.

He recognizes it.

Kiyo speaks. “And who are you, stranger? Seeking refuge from the storm, perhaps…?”

“Shingetsu. You've met my lord, haven't you?” The person steps closer, hands held up. They step back. “You know how obdurate he can be. So please…”

A hand moves, past the sword at their hip to a staff, from out from the dark. The staff of two heads, with fire pointed towards them. A grinning head.

“I need you both to come with. I need your help.”

“...” Kiyo pauses, and speaks out the corner of his mouth. “Its just a human…I’m bigger and you’re, you, whoever this weirdo is we can take them–”

“I can hear you. Just because my Lord and friends can’t enter here doesn't mean I’m helpless. You will come with me–if you want to save this town that is.”

Ren blocks his brother with his body. “What are you talking about?”

“We don't have much time.” They shuffle, and fire illuminates the downturned edge of an eyebrow. Thicker than is in fashion. “My lord doesn't know that I'm here, either.”

”How are we supposed to–”

“Kiyo, wait.”

Ren recognizes that signature. That clear, bright, jagged streak of light among the murk and mire. Underneath their own spiritual energy. Despite a stranger holding it, he doesn't feel threatened.

Because even within the old, sacred bones of this shrine, where the air proves fresher, nothing compares to a shard of the shikon jewel.

He knows. The devil gave it to him months ago, after all.

“Come along, now. Walk in front of me.” The old man, Yoshida, Sesshoumaru supposes he should call now, trembled when he said this. But as minutes passed and Sesshoumaru did no more than walk behind him in the rain, he calmed. A kasa hat keeps the rain out of his face, but he still shivers from the cold. His feet sink in the mud.

But they’re going somewhere. He’ll realize it in a moment.

Yoshida continues recounting history, his voice buffeted by the winds. “The Daimyo approved the Kannushi and his priests staying here. He figured that more respectful rites would please the Kami, especially since he had his eyes on our mountain here.”

“Clarify.”

“He wanted the silver deep in our mountains. Started sending our men down there; Women refused to marry the men they were engaged to if they were sent to the mines, you know.” He almost trips. Sesshoumaru doesn't catch him.

“A sort of protest. No wives, no heirs, so no workers. Stop the mining, right? Nope.”

Sesshoumaru can feel the gathering power, the tremble in the earth, the wind–no doubt a reaction now that a demon of strong caliber challenges it; The night is a dark this, this far and this deep in the mountainland. It hums and chitters, like a grinning mouth waiting to gasp on the punchline. It breathes, and it lingers.

Involuntarily, annoyingly, his hairs raise in response. A challenge then.

“So he disrespected the mountain.” Sesshoumaru kicks pebbles out of his way. The air is wet. “In its own nature a reprehensible offense, but blasphemous to the Kami, obviously.”

Yoshida keeps up with him, conversation wise. “Here, we used to worship Ōyamatsumi, and he aint the Kami of Mountains and War for nothing. The silver in the mines went dark- tarnished. Demons started coming. Men died–either from the mining or devouring. Most women became miko when they refused to marry, but soon there were too many to train them all in good time.”

“The shrine accepted them all?”

“The mikogami refused to turn anyone away. And his father often went along with his whims.”

“You put your trust in such an imperturbable child?” Sesshoumaru admits he is intrigued.

“Yeah. And the Mikogami delivered. He made our wards, trained the others best he could, the practices have been passed down to a few of us still. The kid would confront the demons and purify them, but nothing could be done until the mining stopped, offerings made, and the kami appeased.” He snorts.

“Even with the mining stopped now I guess Ōyamatsumi is still pissed. But what can we do with a broken shrine?”

Sesshoumaru scoffs. You call the god by name with no honorifics and expect grace? How arrogant.

Sesshoumaru holds no love or fear towards the Kami. They do what they will and things are the way they are. Certain things are to be expected– he certainly holds respect for certain kami, such as Izanami-no-mikoto, or her son, Ebisu, the laughing fisherman. He respects the teachings of the Buddhists and admires the intricate tales of the Hindus, rejecting the creeping ideologies of the Jesuits. Sesshoumaru isn't a man of faith, but he understands the hierarchy of Gods, and those who mimic them.

“Daimyo’s are a voracious breed. Hardly honorable.” Not the weak excuses he's known. “Few can fake respect for a religion they don't believe in, but not when it skims the lining of their purses. Not for men like that.

“But the kid was relentless. Demanded the mining stop and scared the Daimyo enough into doing it. We went back to paying our taxes in rice for a time.”

“But then?”

“There's always a catch, huh…? The mikogami wanted to lead a few young priests on their pilgrimage. Never made it back. We don't even know what happened.” He shook his head, shaking off about a cup's worth of rainwater.

“The Kannushi was old. Demons caught us unaware, took out our best in fires, all over. The Priest and miko who remained just…died out. The shrine fell into disrepair but the Daimyo didn't care. He just wanted silver. And so did the next. Until another demon came and took his head for his greed. Now if we could've gotten the other old bastard too before he died I’d consider that a win.” he sighed.

“But, that's it.”

“That's it?” His shoulders hunch. “That hardly quenches my thirst.”

His steps stutter. “I….don't know what else to tell you.”

“The people here are old.” Sesshoumaru's noticed. There's very few children, and fewer adolescents. Most of the village are aging humans, past child rearing years.

“Yet you have five children, Yoshida. Four daughters and a son, what blessings.”

“...I've had to raise them alone, mostly, after my wife died.”

“One wife birthed them all?”

The man’s looking about now, no doubt recognizing the path they take. He doesn't dare slow though, looking back with oddly young eyes.

Or maybe fear makes anyone look young. “My wife's cousin is a miko, and she has her own duties and the villagers have their own families. My eldest and his sister stepped in when I could not.”

“I assume often. And how did your wife, pass?”

“My wife was killed when my youngest was just over a year old. Collateral, in the last battle of the naga.”

“Yes, the demon you lot bring offerings to, Shingetsu, fought his father to take his place.”

“‘Shingetsu?’ Oh, how arrogant. Numachi needs to reign her boys in already– it doesn't do for a woman to be running a house alone for so long.”

“Then you can tell her yourself.” like an apparition, the honjin appears, lonesome a dulled by rain and night.

The hanyo scents he caught along the path should be gone now– the rain should have washed them away. But from here he could catch the muted blandess scent of a beta. Whether he left or not, Sesshoumaru doesn't doubt the next son will be here soon.

And Sesshoumaru isnt a tracking dog; he prefers to lie in wait.

The dream ends as it always does.

With her dying. But is it really a dream, if every time it's so vivid? The events always play out the same- what changes is how she responds to it. The end is the same.

But originally. How it happened, she has to think. The new moon was approaching. Tents outside her home, cheerful voices, trusting in the knowledge that they will be safe here. Sun setting.

There are footsteps, heavy and unfamiliar in the floors of her home, and when she turns, the twins are there. Not her twins, Ayumi-chan’s. Hollow breathed and ruddy red, hair stark under no cloth.

From the other room. “Who is that?” Taiga-san calls. He has Ohatsuhime.

“Oh, it's just–” their eyes widen even further, they shake their heads frantically.

A seed has sprouted in her heart. “...Takashi and his friend running to grab something. They already rushed out.”

“Oh, I’ll give them a word when they get back…” his voice peters off into nothing, and she crouches to the boys. They’re shaking.

“Whats wrong,” she mouths.

They're holding hands. “Dad is… father, he, he left.”

“Left?”

“He and mom were arguing, they’re not loud but we can tell when they're arguing. He didn't even finish dinner before he just left–”

“And mom stepped out of the honjin into the woods after dinner, where she never goes–”

“What are you trying to say?” Her hands on them make them jump, but the twins lean into the warmth. Cold blooded, that's right.

“Calm down and tell me the jist of it.”

“...We don't know if dad’s coming back,” Hiroya whispers. A tear falls, and he looks all the angrier for it. “Can you tell him to come back, i-if he comes here? Mom is pacing the house and she's so… so– We think, oh, I don't know–” Another pair of footsteps, and Kushinadahime comes running in, pitter patter, with Tamayorihime toddling in tow. Her eyes too, are wide.

“Kushinadahime.” She knows her name. Kiyohime doesn't skimp with shortening it or with nicknames, with any of them. “Where is your other sister?”

“Mama. There’s a snake in the grass, mama.” She shivers on her feet. She remembers code. “He has my Toyo–” Kushinadahime doesn't finish her sentence before Kiyohime is on her feet, rushing to the back of the house.

He’s not there. And the grass is hardly disturbed, overgrown. But she remembers the path to her pond, and runs there.

And there he is.

“...” He’s just standing there, back turned. But he sees the feet of her daughter, idly swinging in the air. Children are perceptive, but they are naive. Toyotamahime hasn't been given a reason to fear her father.

“...Please put her down.”

“Kiyohime. I’m only took her-”

“I said put her down.”

“-To talk to you. There's no need for hysterics, Kiyohime.”

“Hysterics?”

“Can I not hold my own child?” He holds her, hands under her armpits, fingers overlayed on her back. “Can I not take a moment to appreciate the life I helped bring into this world?”

“You know what you're doing. You know why you did this you always do this! You hold one of my children to keep me with you.” Kiyohime is already pressed for breath, but she uses what she has to pitch her voice. She knows it pierces his ears. “I told you to put her down!”

His eyes are so somber, almost hurt as he regards her. “When did you become so fearful of me, Kiyohime? I am your lover.”

“You are the father to my children. But you are not my husband. You are my lover no longer. Leave us be.”

Mutsu sighs, and it stutters into a laugh, soft and skin shivering. “Did you finally come to your senses?”

“...Humans and demons aren't meant to intermingle. We should have never–”

“I suppose guilt is why you say this, why you leave me. Why you gave him a child of his own, though she be a daughter, which he has no use for.” He lifts Toyotahime in the air, regarding her.

“...You're married, Mutsu. Go back home.”

“I am home,” he snaps. “I was raised here. I was the mikogami here, before it was shattered. I was adored. I…adored them back. I had a duty to these people, and, I failed. I've done in demonhood what I never lived to do as a human. I protect this place. I help people with their idle tasks and miseries, I’ve married a woman. We have children.

“You’ve birthed me children as well. If demons and humans should not interact then what of them? What have they in store for all their lives?”

Just put her down. “Do you regret them then?”

“No, never.”

“Then what of the woman you harmed?”

“...If I was human, it would be acceptable and you would say nothing. Children of a true, full bloodied mikogami. Not this corrupted thing. I wasn't strong enough to protect anyone then. I was caught unawares. Not this time.”

Annoyed, she clicks her tongue, a foot closer. “Mutsu, is this what you wanted to talk about? You’re the strongest demon around here.”

“Not enough.”

What have you to fear? She sucks her teeth. Another foot. “You act as though you're being hunted-”

“-Because I am!” He recoils, Toyotamahime in his arms now, against his heaving chest.

“I am.”

“Mutsu, just–”

“I dreamt, Kiyohime. I’ve been dreaming of my human life, my human death.” He sighs, curls over their daughter.

“The same demon who killed me is the same one who made me.”

Okay, okay. “... That… makes sense. A strong demon could have corrupted you, w-when you were human.”

He nods. She creeps. “You were a priest, a strong one. He sensed you. He couldn't absorb you without purifying himself, so he corrupted you. But you were strong then, you're still strong now–”

“No, no, you don't get it, no, you don't get it at all.”

“‘Get’ what?! Put her down and talk!”

“He can see the future, Kiyohime…That's why he went to Ayumi’s shrine–it was no Kami who ordered the union, it was him." he spits, wonder and digust and awe all swirling mad in his eyes.

"He led me there, to her, she was supposed to kill me. Empty this vessel for him. Ayumi would have been eaten– not a true mikogami, so there’d be no issue for him,” he mumbles, mad murmurings.

“But that didn't happen. That’s why he punished her, that's why he burnt the shrine, he smoked us out and he’s been waiting–”

“Or, hiding.” She has to be calm. “This place isn't hard to find. It’s not hard to see the lack of other demons. I'm sure there’ve been word spread of your strength, otherwise, this threat would have arrived so much sooner. You're strong, Mutsu.”

“... But I gave too much of myself away. My power, split among my children. If he comes for me, for his vessel I can't, I can't fight him. But...

"But I can save Ayumi, and you. Just a bite, to turn you, just one–” He must hear her heartbeat stop–she can't move away, he has her daughter– because he’s begging now.

“--hurt only for a bit, but then, we’d be...nothing can get the better of us, and the children will be safe! The transforma–”

“Mutsu.” He brightens, hopeful.

“I’m sure it’d take with you and Ayumi, it will function as a sort of mating mark– much more significant than some vows, and you’re already mothers and omegas so it would definitely take–”

“What makes you think I want to be anything like you?”

“...” His face goes blank. His outstretched hand falls, curls at his collar and then cradles Toyotamahime's head.

“What?”

“You think you’re a living martyr. But you’re a ghost haunting past echoes. You think you're owed for–everything!! Just because you suffered. Well, we all have. We all go through the same thing, Mutsu. And a good part of it is because of you. I'd hate to be anything like you.”

Kiyohime remembers the silence–the space of words unspoken, known, nonetheless, and could not be taken back. She remembers how shocked he looked, and how angry that made her, like he couldn't fathom her refusal.

He broke the silence with a gasp. Sharp, like she just broke his heart, but she doesnt recall how the tears fell. Just how they had fallen to his hands. Who was in them.

‘So, he can weep’, was the first, impassive thought that crossed her mind. The second one was, clear-sharp; ‘He's going to throw her into the pond.’

He's going to throw her in the pond.

He’s going to throw in the pond pond pond pondpondpondpond

Its–fast. Kiyohime thinks she imagines the memory now. He looks at her. She moves.

She falls that last step forward, his hands spasm and Toyotamahime shouts when she’s dropped, but just once. She screams just once.

Because Kiyohime catches her. She hits the water like a lash, but she catches her, she does, that's the one certainty she knows, she remembers. He's vanished by then, but someone screams. She thinks the twins followed her.

The children don't go outside for a week. Kushinadhime cries and apologizes to her, them, and Taiga-san says he heard screaming from the grove. For the life of him he can't understand why Kushinadahime is so inconsolable, or why she wont tell him anything. He makes a joke about ‘early hormones’ and Kiyohime throws a bowl at him.

Takashi is fuming– six years old and he’s so protective over his sisters. She wishes he could extend that to his brother as well. If he was only closer.

But he’s- safe. She made sure, she made Jugonshi-san swear to high heaven she’d keep him inside. Her wards are strong– only those she wants inside can get in. She knows she can ward against a mikogami, if she really tried. Says a lot for how lax she’s been before.

New moon comes. The night passes. So does the second.

She doesn't make it past the third. Mutsu is rope wrapped like a silver noose, and his teeth are cold, then warmed by the heat of her flesh. His teeth were already red before.

Air burns aroundwhere they entomb in her throat. A bruise like a plum blossom, blossoming and tender.

“--let go of my mom!” She drops, she falls. Takashi. Her baby. Takashi, too big sword, his head cracking against wood, blood is red, red–

And then she’s out. Away. It doesn't matter what she dreams of next. It's all a nightmare after.

Her thoughts slip. Slipslip blood slip she has to keep it in one place. Grass, theres grass, she’s a farmer. Wind, cold– she’s a respectable lady, her collar shouldn't be thiswide–married, she's married. Are her teeth black? Kids? Ohatsuhime, and Kushinadhime’s birthdays have passed. It's still winter. And she's burning.

There's more she clings to, but slips he speaks. “You should have just let me finish. Deal with your husband, finally. Or, you could’ve had, have your first taste of blood. But no. Your first taste has to be your own.”

Water. Water, its raining, and the shower makes arrowheads out of her lashes, spindly and sharp--like her fingers. To her right, she can hear, rushing...Rushing, river. Theres snow, on the grass. She must be high up the mountain.

How did she know she's on a mountain? How is she seeing in the dark?

“Takashi burst in before we could explain everything. He probably thinks im eating you right now.” Takashi? takashi takashi

Takashi boy her boy. Baby. Half.

“You know that boy is worse than his brother when it comes to holding a grudge.” Brother. Half. girls, no pearls, pearls girls one half two, no no no. Kiyo. Brother, not pearl. No sea.

Kiyo. No, no, no that that’s…her, name? Kiyo…?

It rings a faint bell.

“...ve’nt seen Kiyomizu.” Ah, that's his name.

She gurgles out a non-reply.

He sits against the grass. Tail flicking idly. The blood makes him patterned like a koi fish in a lord's pond... Mutsu. She does know him. He should have been named Anchin instead.

He should have left for Takamagahara already, instead.

“You think I'm selfish, Kiyohime. And I am. It is both my nature and my form now. You think I'm entitled. Do you know what it's like, traveling, for decades, looking for what was once lost? Your dignity, home, purpose, joy? To have a taste of it again, and know that it is threatened?”

She crawls. To the water. Dirt cakes under her nails, wet and clumped.

“Maybe this is just all another excuse for selfishness. Another tool of vanity. But…we can still do good. We can be useful, and like this, when that monster, when that true evil comes, the children can stand a chance. Help me, Kiyohime. Help them.”

You killed me. The thought heats there. She feels cold. She plugs the punctures in her throat with her fingers but the air is heated iron when she breathes. It sits sick in her belly.

“You take the mating mark better than Ayumi did. You still smell so sweet- have I ever told you? You smell like metal, and blooms, like a samurai’s wife,” he laughs, but it peters out, falling dead like her weight.

“...Ayumi. She ripped herself from me– I think it's going to scar horribly, and not the way it was meant to. I’ll apologize later.” He rises, and she crawls faster; she slips on the slick grass of riverbank; hands snapping the sheaths at their base and Mutsu, he catches her by the ankle. She chokes on the pain, voiceless.

Her legs, there's supposed to be, two, yeah? It looks like she has two, where the fusings been torn by her aborted fall.

He lets her go. He’s apologizing, frantic at the blood between her legs but not that slipping down her throat. Soon it will be his.

He cups her half knee-tail, her thigh her neck--clammy, shaking. He presses his nose hard to her temple and she feels the dampness of his skin.

When she opens her mouth to scream, fire pores out.

When Mutsu recoils, she rolls; She holds her breath, and plunges into the river. She falls.

She doesn't need to breathe, but the instinct reignites when she crashes against the streambed, silt and sand, rocks and fish. But she moves, down, down, forward, fast, just– away.

She throws up pink foam when she crashes against land, claws her way back up, the water calmer, sky lighter. Her—Her tail; Lashing, aimless, uncoordinated. New.

( She has no legs. She has no legs. She has no legs. )

Day is dawning gray, and it is cold. The clouds were a churning gray, her skin, pale, hair, black as ink. The air is rank and the wind cuts her hollow-strained and she is oh-so miserable.

She can't help but think this is familiar.

A lady, white robed, pants red, sees her first. She runs, and she smiles, a breathless bright thing. By her are two boys, and they look the same; They scream out “Mother-!” and that's how she knows that's her name.

Boys. baby. One boy has a tail, like hers and the other–sword sword yes, cutsharp big no baby Takashi Kiyo Kiyomizu Masaki sister friend dont talk to me babypearl where baby helprunhelphelprunhelpgo– He simply has her face. They both do. Even if she doesn't know what her face looks like she knows it's there.

Then the woman really sees her. Long limbs, pale, bloody, waterlogged, scale-tailed and fang-smiled. She screams.

Then a hand curls over her face, and she is under the water again.

She bites–hard, fingers snap and heal and snap again under the grind of her teeth, not quite sharp. She thrashes. they throw up on land again and again, like aimless, flopping fish.

When she dreams, sometimes she claws out his throat. Or his eyes. She wraps her new tail around him and squeezes until he is pulp. She eats his heart.

In her dreams, he doesn't beg her to see reason, and his eyes aren't tormented like he’s the one in pain. He doesn't drag her back under the water, again, and again, and it doesn't matter that she can't drown and he keeps on anyways. He doesn't kill her again. The children don’t scream. Masaki doesn't watch.

In all versions though, she fights. She tastes his blood. She screams and water turns into vapor, bubbling and hissing like angry wasps. The fight is taken out the water. She screams and the grass is gone to flame. Houses fall like leaves when her tail misses its target. She screams and the sky goes gray with smoke. And from the smoke, comes two glints of light.

Arrows. One pierces his throat- shaft buried deep, and a murky pink bubbling out. The arrowhead is darkened, by grit or gore, and hisses against his skin; He collapses trying to pull it out.

The other hits her heart– or pretty close to it. And then it's dark.

What else is there to imagine, or remember? There is no want to. Mutsu has gone or fled or died. And she dreams. She teaches her pearl daughters half forgotten songs cherished for melody; and she dreams. She pins Takashi down with one hand with her great size and teaches him wit and endurance; and she dreams. Kushinadahime and Kiyomizu come and sleep in the great weave of her hair, which they untangle; and she dreams. She slumbers in the deepest cavity of the mountain, drowsy eyed and docile and warm. She dreams and when she wakes she has her children.

It's a simple existence and she does not have to think about it before unless something triggers a long, still memory.

It's a simple existence with little to want. Even if her youngest has not yet matured enough to visit her, even if her friendhumanister Masaki doesn't visit her until she brought her here.

She knows someone must have brought her back up the mountain, and then deep. She knows this arrow in her breast is not natural but if she doesnt move too much it doesn't hurt. Anymore. She knows she’s forgetting someone. Someones.

Then why haven't they come to see her…? She knows Ohatsuhime is still immature, her baby… and sometimes she misses the sky… but when that happens her chest thrums and sleep shrouds out the rest of her thoughts.

What was she thinking about…? Her babies? Why aren't they back yet? Are they…checking the traps?? She can hear Kushinadahime’s heartbeat within these derelict halls. Are they seeking their father– no, no, right? Isn't he dead? Or old?

Then, what exactly happened….?

[ Kiyohime dreams. The dreams start as they always do, bleak and without color. ]

“Two, no… no three. I sense three shards up ahead.” This high up, the humidity and gathering storm made her hair frizz like crazy, but Kagome could deal with some frizz.

“They're spread out though.” Especially for three Shards of the Shikon jewel.

“Where? In the town? The market?”

“Close to the end of town,” She pets Shippo’s fluffy hair. “Another in the mountain. The other… I think it might be there, a shrine.”

“Then that should be our first stop.” Sango's hand falls steady and warm on her back. “With the new moon, Inuyasha will be incapacitated. Look how quiet and glum he is now. Poor puppy.”

“Shut it woman–”

“Don't make me say the word si-” he flinches, good, “and send you all the way down the mountain path!”

“The shrine would be easier to fortify and will give us some refuge from the storm, though I say we get to know the locals first,” Miroku ignores the shouting, and shrugs.

“I sense a great presence in that mountain. The divine aura of the Mountain’s Kami is faint, but not quite missing. This other presence is not hostile though, and I'm sure such a town would have a few words to share about that…. And all the demonic bodies left miles outside it…”

And here he grins like a fool, and Kagome already dreads the next words out his mouth— “There's sure to be at least one beautiful, young and fertile Miko in that shrine willing to -” Kirara swats him with her tail and he goes down.

Kagome sighs. They've been traveling for almost two weeks straight and she's sore. She never knew before how bad she could want to stay home and study.

“Then let's get a move onto that shrine, ‘kay? Those shards aren't going to collect themselves.”

“Than move your flat ass on-”

“Down, boy!”

taglist: @tanspostsblog @xmentira @shadowywizardarcade @layla2-49