Compassion

Chapter 3

          This garden was her favorite.  It was tucked away in a far corner of the castle, protected from the elements and wandering eyes.  It was the only one of the indoor gardens that had a koi pond, complete with a small bridge.  Izayoi found it very comforting.  For some reason she had begun to feel an affinity for the slow moving orange and gold fish.  They were peaceful, with no pressing concerns.  They were not given a say in their stay here – captured by some servant for the sole purpose of entertaining guests of the Lord.  But they were well cared for, and they were content.  She felt very similar to them at times, though she was not here for anyone’s amusement.

          She trailed her fingertips over the surface of the pond, smiling gently as the fish jolted away from her with unusual speed.  Yes, after two months in this place she was as content with her confinement as they seemed to be.

          She heard the shoji slide open behind her, but did not turn.  It was likely a servant come to check on her, they would leave once they were certain she was well.

          Long moments passed, and the shoji did not open again.  This piqued her curiosity.  Did the servant have a question, but not wish to disturb her?  She stood slowly, straightening her kimono and brushing her hair behind her shoulders as she turned toward the door, only to freeze as she realized who had entered.

          It was Inutaisho.

          He didn’t appear to notice her movement, his eyes still fixed on her.  Somehow it wasn’t uncomfortable as Sesshoumaru’s appraisal had been.  Still, she wanted to know what he was looking for with so intent a gaze.  She bowed her head, effectively snapping him from his trance. He shifted his gaze from her figure to the koi pond, his expression unchanged.  He made no other movements.  Now Izayoi let her gaze trace his figure.  Two months in his castle had not made her any more immune to his appearance.  He still took her breath away.

          Suddenly Izayoi had the unnerving feeling that she was intruding on a very private moment.  A slow flush came over her pale skin and she gripped her kimono tightly, twisting it in her hands.  Nervous, she moved to step around him, giving him a wide berth, her head turned away from him.  But just as she came up beside him, he spoke.  

          “Izayoi...” his tone was gentle, interested, but that didn’t lessen her nervousness even though she felt it should have.  “How have you been occupying yourself since coming here?”

          She struggled not to fidget, something she did far too often these days, “Well, I...” she took a breath, calling up all of her practiced calm and regal upbringing, and actually managed to calm her racing heart and behave as the princess she was... for a moment, “that is, one of the servants has been teaching me a dialect from the mainland to the west, and I have learned a bit about plants...” she trailed off uncertainly, her momentary courage gone.

          He eyed her with a contemplative look, and she found herself growing uncomfortable with the long silence. “I wonder if you would consent to take your meals with me from now on?” he suddenly asked, startling her.

          “O-of course, my Lord, I would be honored.” She bowed her head to him.

          “Hmmm...” his face still held that look, as though he were lost in his own thoughts.  Then he bowed to her deeply and left the garden, leaving her to wonder what had just occurred.

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          It had been unusual at first, sitting across from him at mealtimes.  She had seen him perhaps twelve times during her first two months at the castle, and spoken to him about a third of those times.  Now she saw him three times a day – sometimes more – without fail.  If she had expected these times to be awkward and silent, she had been mistaken.  Inutaisho was always at ease, always congenial, and always in the mood for conversation.  She was learning a great deal about his life, and, in turn, he had inquired about a great deal of her life as well.  Of course, she had far less to tell being only 15, while he was nearly seven hundred years old.  Yet he never seemed to tire of listening to her, asking her about her dreams, her thoughts, her opinions.

          She was beginning to wonder if he were lonely.

          After all, he had no friends.  He had allies, and servants, and even a few equals.  But he had no friends, and his only living relative, Sesshoumaru, had not been in contact with him since his brief stay shortly after Izayoi’s arrival.

          She didn’t complain.

          After all... she was lonely too.

          It amazed her how quickly she became accustomed to his presence.  Where it had taken him several attempts to draw her into real conversation at first, she now needed no encouragement.  She even felt comfortable asking him question rather than waiting for his, or simply listening to whatever happened to be on his mind.

          For the first time in her life, she had a friend.

          The feeling that knowledge gave her was almost giddy.  She felt like a small child so great was her joy at times.

          And he gave every indication of enjoying their time together as well.  That was what amazed her most. 

          What did a human hime, just barely approaching her sixteenth year, have to offer a centuries old demon Lord?

          But she didn’t think about that much.  She didn’t like the depression that came with such thoughts.  And he never drew her attention to it, never made her feel inferior or inadequate.

          In fact, the only time she found herself feeling out of place was when he talked about his wife.

          It had been rare at first, for him to speak of something so personal.  In fact, it wasn’t until just after her sixteenth birthday – about five months after they had begun to eat together regularly – that he dared broach the subject.  It was a brief mention, in the midst of a war story.  But the look in his eyes had been haunting.  It was very clear that he loved his wife.  Izayoi felt simultaneously a sense of elation and despair: elation because he trusted her enough to share something so personal and intimate, and despair for a reason she couldn’t quite identify.  She only knew that she wished she could wipe the sadness from his soulful eyes – not take the memory, but ease the pain.

          By the time her seventeenth birthday approached she felt she knew Inutaisho as well as it was possible to know anyone.  And he knew her just as well.

          She had found him to be everything her father had told her and more.  He was kind, just, stern, gentle, firm, caring, compassionate, intelligent, understanding, a man of deep thought and deep feeling, but a man of action when it was necessary. She had heard about his battles, his victories and his losses. He had told her the thoughts behind his decisions, the emotions stirred by the world around him.  He had told her some of his regrets, some of his sorrows, some of his dreams.

          And he had somehow managed to draw those same things from her in a way that was causing her to mature and grow in ways she hadn’t thought possible.  His influence had calmed her, made her less apt to despondency, brightened her view of the world even as he forced her to question all she had been taught to believe.  It was an intellectual and emotional challenge that she grew to relish.  And somehow she knew that, even though she was young, conversing with her had the same effect on him.  It was comforting knowing that they could teach each other, rely on one another.

          Comforting... and very disturbing.

          Izayoi was finding it increasingly difficult to squelch the nagging feeling in her gut that she was in far too deep.

          Perhaps it was the way his hand would linger on hers after he had helped her rise from her seat, or the way it would rest casually, yet intimately, on her back briefly before he left her at her shoji.  Or perhaps it was the fact that she sometimes caught his gaze following her as she walked through a room, the way she could sense him observing her every movement.  Perhaps it was the warmth in his eyes, the softness in his tone, or that smile she knew only she could provoke.  The way he made her feel as though everything she said mattered, and nothing she did could make her less in his eyes.

          Or perhaps it was the tell tale way her stomach flip flopped when she noticed one of these things.  Perhaps it was the way her breath still caught at the sight of him.  The way her heart pounded against her chest.  The feeling of heat coursing through her whenever he touched her.

          Perhaps that was what truly frightened her.

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Note: I haven’t the slightest idea how old Inutaisho was when he met Izayoi... so I made up a somewhat vague age, but I did have to place a century on him... terribly sorry, I tried to avoid it...

VOCAB:

          Hime – princess

          Taiyoukai – demon Lord

          Youkai – demon

          Inu – dog

          Hanyou – half demon

          Shoji – in Japanese architecture: the portion of the wall that slides back to serve as a door.