Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this story. Rumiko Takahashi created them, I am just having a brief, merciless play with them. Unless I happen to invent and insert my own characters. In which case I still won't make money off them. Benten is an actual Goddess and if I tried to claim creative rights she'd probably set dragons on me so I won't.

Author's Note: [Edit July 2015] This has been rolling for five years now! I'm still chipping away at it, little by little, and the end is in sight now.

~ Chapter 1 - A Goddess Scorned ~

Sesshoumaru was not in a pleasant mood.

He had been passing through one of the smaller forests with the intent of settling some small boundary dispute with another youkai that had foolishly infringed on his territory, what should have been a brief task.

A short way into the forest he had encountered an old human lady in patched kimonos kneeling at the base of two intertwined pine trees. A battered koto* placed before her on an equally shabby square of fabric. Her gnarled fingers and plectrum coaxed a delicate, sweet folk-song from the frayed strings, the tones only slightly hindered by the arthritic stiffess of her hands.

As he had approached she had lifted a chipped lacquer begging-bowl beseechingly.

Sesshoumaru had swept past ignoring her, intent on his path. He had heard finer musicians in his fathers halls, had finer musicians in his own service, though he rarely cared to listen now, had, as a child, produce better music by his own hands. His thoughts were not on music but the task at hand. He would not be swayed.

Or so he had thought.

What should have been a quick passage through the forest had stretched to hours. The area covered by these trees shouldn't have been more than a ri* in distance. Less than that and beyond lay fields and mountains. Yet he had entered the trees in the early morning and now the sun was high over-head and he had yet to find the forest's edge.

Flying had made no difference. Sesshoumaru had launched himself beyond the canopy several hours ago only to find that the forest now extended as far as the eye could see.

The faint sound of plucked strings drew him back down to the forest floor. There the old lady still sat… no… a different old lady. This one was dressed even more beggarly than the first and held a shamisen made of poorly stained paulownia wood. The smell of old fish and seaweed clung to her clothing and Sesshoumaru wrinked his nose.

Yet the shamisen was skillfully played, the music a piece worthy of a nobles entertainment, despite the quality of the instrument and the appearance of the musician.

The old lady paused in her playing, as if only just realising his presence and scrabbled for her wooden begging bowl, the shamisen forgotten in her lap.

"Kind sir. Kind sir. Mon* or Rice? A blessing on you… Mon or Rice?" Her face split into a blackened, snag-toothed grin as she held up her bowl rocking it hopefully. Her cracked fingernails were ingrained with dirt and the Taiyoukai could see lice skittering through the folds of her clothing.

Disgusted Sesshoumaru had launching himself swiftly into the air once more, leaving the parasite riddled human behind. Unwilling to back down on his quest.

Night was now drawing in and Sesshoumaru was seething inside. The sun sat low in the sky and the forest still did not end. There any sign of life now: not yokai, human, animal or bird. A fierce wind began sweeping across the tree tops, ruffling them like an ocean's waves and the Taiyoukai allowed himself a small frown.

From below, once again, he heard the sound of a stringed instrument being plucked as an elegant ballad was played. A taunting, jeering noise it seemed to Sesshoumaru. His jaw tightened and he dropped like a falcon from the sky towards it.

A third old lady, this one wearing only tatters, her hair a birds-nest of tangles sat playing a crude biwa: the music as delicate as a nightingale's song. Sesshoumaru did not pause in his descent but landed at her feet, grabbing her by the throat and lifted her in one smooth motion.

"What enchantment is this crone?" He growled, shaking her. "Old women don't beg for coin in the middle of a deserted forest where there are no roads, no people, no life. Who are you?"

The old woman dangled for a brief moment then began to laugh. Not the cackle of an old woman – but a deep, mirthful rich laugh and, though he squeezed at her throat, he could not silence her…. Her laugh sent a jolt of unease down his spine– it held anger, spite, challenge, purpose and most disturbingly, humor.

"Ah Child. You have just granted me the permission that Bishamonten* would have withheld. Ah such shame! What warrior would strike at a harmless old woman? He shall not try to stay my hand now."

The old woman looked directly into his eyes and they glowed with a pale light, the irises bright grey. The old woman's age fell away as her hunched body stretched. "You are a fool to dismiss the elderly Sesshoumaru. You are fool to dismiss my music." Her feet met the ground and she straightened.

"And you are thrice a fool to forget there are beings far greater than yourself."

The woman now stood a good head taller again than Sesshoumaru. No longer dangling from his grasp, the lady casually peeled his hand from her throat and the Taiyoukai found himself powerless to stop her. This was no youkai nor human that held him powerless. There was no reiki or youki around her yet the air around her crackled with power.

The tattered rags had disintegrated as the woman changed, replaced by russet kimonos that were embroidered with dragon scales and wave patterns. Her hair now reached down to the ground and a live white snake coiled through the ornate loops of her hair. It flicked its tongue at him distainfully.

Then She Looked at him and he felt her gaze pierce his very being, sifting and judging all he had done. Outrage bubbled up within him but he could do nothing to free his hand from her grasp. The very air seemed to gel around him and he could not draw on his Youki. He gritted his teeth and willed himself to calm. Searching for an escape or some way to equalise the situation.

"Hmm." The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully, as if she had seen something in his thoughts to make her reconsider whatever she had intended. She studied his hand next, turning it still firmly gripped in her own, tracing a fingernail across his palm.

"A long life-line. Though you make waste of it now. Your father showed proper respect. He, and his father before, remembered the rituals. I have waited two hundred years for you, Sesshoumaru, to remember the tributes due. Waited without avail. And now I find you are…" She curled a lip. "...uneducated in appreciation of what I have bestowed upon your family. Ignorant of the duties held by those blessed with true power, stagnant of heart. And worst! You have ceased entirely to think of my tribute, and after showing such promise as a child."

She looked up from his hand again and her eyes were fierce, joyous and determined.

"I do believe you are in need of a lesson… It will be most… illuminating."

And as she let go of his hand the world went dark around him and Sesshoumaru knew no more.

~o0o~

* 箏 Koto: a large box shaped stringed instrument that is played resting on the ground with finger picks

*里 Ri: Traditional measurement of distance that measures to roughly 3.9 kilometers.

* 文 Mon: One of the smaller valued coins cast in copper or Iron and used as currency in Japan from 1336 to 1870.

* 毘沙門天 Bishamonten: Armor-clad god of warfare or warriors and one of the seven gods of fortune. Originally from India, where he was Vaiśravaṇa, one of the four heavenly kings in Buddhist mythology.