Greetings! And, welcome to another ramble through my somewhat quirky imagination. As stated in the summary, this story is a 'sequel'. Sooo... fair warning: if you haven't already read A Question of Faith, expect to be terribly confused. ;p In A Matter of Honour, I've once again had the pleasure of combining two of my favourite 'universes' -- the wonderfully magical conception of Feudal Japan that is 'InuYasha' and the equally mystical world of Irish myth and legend. There will be old acquaintances to renew, and new people to meet. I hope you enjoy it. :)
Now, postings are going to be more spread out this time around, folks, as this is not yet completely typed. It is, however, 'complete', in that the plot is organised and the ending is set in stone. ;)
Disclaimer: The characters of the anime InuYasha are the property of Takahashi Rumiko/Shogakukan and Yomiuri TV Sunrise 2000.
Prologue:
The reflection of a waxing crescent moon slowly emerged on the surface of the mountain lake as shadows, cast by the forested slopes to the west, darkened its cold, deep waters. When the young moon ultimately followed the sun in its descent behind the western peaks, only the stars would be mirrored within the still depths. Eventually, however, even those faint glimmers of light would fade into obscurity, for the mist forming on the distant shore was already beginning to spread across the water, enveloping all in its path.
A splash broke the silence as a stone ruptured the lake's smooth surface. This was followed by a sigh, as the one who had thrown the cobble searched the shore for a new missile.
'I thought that one would skip for sure, Yuki.'
The speaker was a boy standing at the lake's edge. His clothes proclaimed him a peasant's child and his small, thin frame made him appear younger than his nine years. His audience was a curly-tailed little dog whose white breast stood out sharply against his red coat.
The shiba inu panted as he sat at his young master's feet; his ears pricked forward as his shiny, dark eyes fixed on the source of the familiar voice. When the boy had suddenly decided to explore the lakeshore, the canine had not hesitated to follow him. The unfamiliar territory had certainly provided more interesting scents than any he had found while waiting for the child to finish sweeping the floor of the little shrine their family tended. Two hours had passed, however, and Yuki now whined briefly as he began to think seriously about his supper.
Then, the little dog looked toward the woodland path that led away from the lake and issued a small yip. As the boy turned to see what had caught his friend's attention, he heard his name being called and he swallowed guiltily. He had stayed too long, he realised, and now he had been caught where he knew he should not be.
'Shiro!' called a deep voice. 'Are you there?'
The shiba inu ran toward the voice and barked gladly as its owner appeared from between the trees. Kind, brown eyes in a lined face looked down at the excited dog and then at the shamefaced boy standing before him in the twilight.
'I'm sorry, Gramps,' said the boy. 'I lost track of the time.'
'I'm disappointed in you, Shiro,' said the elderly man. 'You know you shouldn't go beyond the shrine. Come now. We can't stay here – the sun has set.' He saw the sceptical look on his grandson's face and sighed. Why, he wondered, did youth always dare to tread forbidden ground? Old Takeo looked apprehensively at the ruins that lay at the lake's edge, several hundred metres farther along the shore. The mist, he saw, was already encroaching on the buildings and... had he just seen movement within those ancient stone walls?
The man shivered, then he gave his grandson a gentle clip on the back of his head to hurry him along. 'Did you try to enter the ruins?' he asked him.
'No,' muttered the boy. 'Yuki wouldn't follow me there.' He didn't add that his own adventurous spirit had flagged when faced with the dank, crumbling walls full of deep shadows.
'Clever Yuki,' answered his grandfather drily. 'Those old buildings are not safe.'
'Kanaye's father says the legends are rubbish.'
The grandfather sighed. 'Hai. And, you would take advice from the village's laziest man? His wisdom comes from the bottom of a jar of sake.' Then, Takeo shifted his walking stick to his other hand and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.
Shiro looked up, surprised by this gesture of affection from the normally reserved man. Guilt ran across his conscience again when he saw the worry in his grandsire's expression.
'Taro also decided the stories were nonsense,' the old man said softly.
The boy's eyes widened. Old Taro, the village madman, seldom spoke. When he did, it was either to mutter to himself in unintelligible phrases or to launch into violent, weeping tirades in which he pleaded for the moon to protect him. He had heard rumours about Taro being driven mad by ghosts, but had never uncovered the details since adults tended to stop discussing such interesting topics once they realised children were within earshot.
'What do you mean, Gramps?' Shiro asked now, his embarrassment at being caught in a proscribed area receding in the face of being the first among his playmates to hear the true story behind Taro's sorry state.
Takeo knew the boy's parents felt he was too young to hear about Taro. But, Shiro's daring journey to the lake this evening had shown the old man that his grandson would have to be informed, if only to scare him into obedience.
'When I was a boy, Taro was my best friend,' began Takeo. 'He was such a clever boy...' The old man sighed again. '... too clever for his own good, as it turned out. One night, just after he turned fifteen, he decided he would see for himself what ruled the lakeshore after dark...'
Yuki trotted behind his masters as they made their way down the forest path. The little dog was kept busy sniffing at the shrubs and trees they passed, until he noticed a new scent on the evening breeze. He turned and, his ears pricked forward as he stood at attention, looked back toward the lake. A low growl formed in his throat. As the scent became stronger, however, the growl quickly became a whimper. Tail tucked between his legs, Yuki turned and bolted after the two members of his human 'pack'. Safety, the canine knew, lay in numbers.
Quiet descended on the lakeshore. Then, as mist enshrouded the lonely landscape, a large form emerged from the ruins and moved slowly along the pebbled shoreline – the massive clawed feet made no sound as they passed, however, and left no tracks.
The apparition paused. A huge, shaggy head hovered over the spot where the boy and the old man had been. Then, a long, black muzzle curled into a protective snarl as the humans' scents were detected. Deep-set eyes glowed with a feral, red light – never, their owner thought, would such vermin be allowed to enter the mansion...
The large creature snorted then, suddenly dismissing these musings, for the mortals had become unimportant as soon as they had left the territory of the lakeshore. If the humans had lingered, however, they would have been destroyed. The spectre's power lay in darkness and, tonight, once the light of the moon disappeared behind the western hills, that power would be especially strong. On such a night, the strength of the guardian of the ruins was at its peak.
A rumbling growl escaped the dark creature as it returned to the buildings it protected; there, it sat on its haunches in front of the disintegrating gatehouse and curled its plumed tail elegantly around its legs. A lolling tongue hung from a panting mouth, then licked across gleaming, white fangs, as the guardian settled into the same position it assumed every night.
No one would desecrate the mansion, no one would pass – no one except... the one most desired... and, most hated.
One day, that one would come. This had been promised.
It would seem that I must make use of her sooner than expected...
So thought the tall, armoured figure as he silently watched images flit across the surface of a mirror held by the small, pale girl standing before him. Their only source of light was a feeble glow emanating from phosphorescent mould coating the rocky walls and ceiling of the mountain cave which was their lair. Yet, neither had any difficulty seeing those the mirror scried.
A foul miasma pervaded the dank cavern. But, it had no effect upon the pair. Though they might have seemed human to the casual observer, closer inspection would quickly dispel such an assumption.
The child was delicate-looking and clad in a simply-cut, white kimono. Her straight, snow-white hair framed a face which was too devoid of expression for one so young. Silently, she looked down at the mirror she held. Patiently, she waited for the orders which she knew would come. The man towering over her was her master and her creator; she obeyed him without question.
Abruptly, the cave's other occupant turned away from the mirror, a contemplative expression upon his coldly handsome face. His eyes showed no emotion; the faint yellow-green light of the cavern had turned their normal blood-red irises to a fathomless black which was darker even than the thick, ebon hair which fell in waves to his waist. As he moved, the thick tentacles protruding from beneath the back of his elaborate, heavy armour began to undulate slowly, their presence a forcible reminder that their owner had ceased to be human long ago.
Naraku was carefully considering his next move.
It had been several months since the devious hanyo or half-demon had visited the ruins by the lake. He had gone there with one purpose: to recruit a particular individual to his service. Now, he was congratulating himself on his foresight in seeking that tedious meeting. It had been relatively easy for the crafty Naraku to weave a persuasive web of words about his target – through careful questioning, he had put together the final pieces of a puzzle he had uncovered some years ago, and in doing so, he had discovered what she wanted to hear.
No, he thought, smugly. What she needed to hear.
And, thus, he had added yet another weapon to his arsenal. This, he knew, was proof that any information about his foes, no matter how mundane it seemed, should never be discounted.
You've been getting too close in your search for me, Sesshoumaru. Naraku frowned with this thought. So far, he had been successful at evading the dog demon. The same held true for InuYasha, Sesshoumaru's half-breed younger brother. Both siblings sought his death and, to Naraku's profound annoyance, both had come dangerously close to achieving that goal in the past. The fact that he was still alive was, he knew, a tribute to his own cunning.
Naraku had no doubt that, ultimately, he would be victorious. After all, the power of a complete Shikon Jewel was almost his. And, once that was achieved – once he had become fully yokai, fully a demon – no one would be able to stand against him.
No one... Not even the adversarial sons of the Great Dog Demon.
His brow cleared as the final piece of his latest plan clicked into place. He looked over his shoulder to again regard the now dark mirror and the still, silent being holding it.
'Kanna,' said Naraku, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face. 'I have a task for you...'
Sooo. Shall we continue...?
Trivia time (courtesy of Wikipedia): The Shiba Inu of Japan is one of the oldest dog breeds in the world. The word 'shiba' refers to a red-coloured shrub, but it also means 'small' in old Japanese. The meaning of 'inu' should already be well known to InuYasha fans. ;)