Compassion

Chapter 4

          “It’s my seventeenth birthday today.” She whispered, alone in her chambers. She had been in the castle of the Taiyoukai nearly two years, and had now considered him her dearest friends for a year and a half.  She felt a pang of homesickness, but it was quickly lost.  She was not sorry to have come here.

          There was a gentle rap at the shoji and Kiyomi entered.  In her hand she held a strange bundle wrapped in white silk.

          “My lady.” Kiyomi bowed, extending the bundle, which Izayoi took.  Kiyomi did not wait for a dismissal, but simply left the room to wait beside the shoji.  When the mistress needed her she would call.

          Izayoi studied the silk blankly for a few moments, running her fingers over the smooth, cool cloth.  She wondered what it was, and then realized that the only way to find out was to open it.  Carefully she laid it on the low table and untied the ribbon bindings. She folded back the silk wrapping and gasped at what she saw.

          It was the most exquisite kimono she had ever seen.

          Gently she lifted it, letting the bottom fall to the floor – she had no fear of it getting dirty as every inch of the castle was meticulously maintained.

          It was a deep blue, the kimono, with a white floral pattern and touches of silver.  Turning back to the table she saw that this was merely a piece of the ensemble.  There were two other layers and an obi, each as exquisite as the first piece, but in varying shades of blue and purple, with white and silver accents.  At the bottom of the pile she found a small scroll.

          Once unrolled she found it contained the elegant hand writing of her Lord.

          Izayoi, today you become a woman.  May Kami bless you and keep you, for you are a companion of unusual depth and perception. You possess an exceptional beauty, both of spirit and body.  Use it well in the coming years.  Happy birthday, Izayoi.

          She felt tears fill her eyes as she reread the words, her eyes then falling to the breath-taking kimono.  His gift to her.

          For a moment she could not breathe, she was so filled with elation.  The only thought she could keep anywhere near coherent was that he had said that she was beautiful.  Those simple words filled her with incredible warmth, and she caught herself hugging the scroll to her bosom, eyes drifting closed on a dreamy sigh.       

          It was then that she knew beyond all doubt that she was in trouble. 

          She loved him.

          Her eyes snapped open, as she was filled with a slow-building dread.

          How was she to keep it from him?  Surely, with his superior senses, he could tell how she felt.  With sudden mortification she realized that he probably already knew.  How long had his presence made her pulse jump, how long had his touch brought a gentle blush to her face, how long had she secretly longed for his attentions even while denying her attraction to him?  Certainly he had known from that very first time.

          Why was she such a fool?

          But then, he had never turned her away.  He had never seemed disgusted with her or even angry.  He sought out her company.  If nothing else, he valued her friendship.  She could face him, she must, because it wasn’t fair to deprive him of the only friend he had.

          With that thought to strengthen her resolve she pushed back her nervousness and picked up her new kimono, prepared to get ready for the day.

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          Inutaisho had had a special meal prepared for her.  All her favorites, though how on earth he had remembered them was a mystery to her – she was certain they had only had a few conversations about such things.  But then, she hadn’t mentioned her birthday since a week after she had turned sixteen, and he had remembered that.

          She forced herself not to read too much into that.  He was a demon after all, his memory was likely far better than hers.

          Still, she couldn’t help but feel that he was especially attentive today.

          He had arranged for a traveling group of entertainers to stop at the castle and perform for them.  Another expensive gift for her.  But she reasoned that he was trying to distract her from the homesickness she had mentioned had plagued her on her last birthday.  After all, he had wealth beyond imagining, what were a kimono and some entertainment to him?  He likely enjoyed the diversion as well.

          They spent nearly the whole day together, and she congratulated herself that she did not stare or blush all day.  Perhaps she would be able to live with her new-found awareness after all.

          That conviction lasted until just after supper when, for the first time all day, they were alone.  And he chose that moment to compliment her on her attire.

          Struggling to fight down the heat rising in her cheeks, she forced a smile and thanked him for his gift.  Fortunately he seemed not to notice her discomfort.

          But when he slipped her arm through his to escort her back to her chambers after a moonlit walk through the outer gardens she was certain he had to hear her heart racing.  She prayed that he would believe her exhausted from the eventful day, and dismiss it as that.

          Outside her shoji he took her hand and bowed over it, brushing his lips against it in a custom she had rarely seen practiced.  She flushed deeply, and ducked her head away as he straightened, missing his strangely sad smile.  He whispered goodnight, brushing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, before departing. 

          Perhaps she had imagined it, but she could have sworn that his hand had lingered on her face a bit longer than was necessary. Entering her chambers she changed before collapsing on the futon.  She sighed; certainly it was merely the idle dreams of a young woman’s infatuated heart.  He couldn’t possibly have any interest in her – he was a god among men, and she was a child.  She must seem hopelessly immature to him, rambling on about childish dreams and thoughts in their daily discussions.  She wondered how he managed to put up with her.  Why he indulged her as he had today.  She found her thoughts drifting to the times he had spoken about his first wife.  If that did not squelch her foolish dreams, she didn’t know what would.

          She was the epitome of elegance, wisdom, beauty and power – his wife.  She had died decades before, but she was still alive in the heart of Inutaisho.  Izayoi had seen the look in his eyes when he spoke of her - no woman would ever take her place.  She could never hope to compete.  Against such perfection what hope did a mere human child have?

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          Inutaisho frowned.  He was a fool, allowing himself to get so close to her.  A fool to hope.

          He had indulged himself too much today.  And, likely, revealed far too much to her.  He would be fortunate if she ever spoke to him again, especially after his actions in front of her chambers. He growled softly before sinking down to the floor, crossing his legs and attempting to clear his mind.  Meditation was what he needed, especially after that encounter...

          But his mind would not cooperate; it kept drifting to the young woman who was so close... and so very far.  He could almost feel her soft hand against his lips. This was more than infatuation...

          This was impossible.

          He knew what they thought - the humans.  Youkai were monsters, barely a step above animals, and it was only because of their strength and numbers that they ruled over humanity.  Humans didn’t respect youkai – they merely feared them.  Nothing he had done in these lands had done anything to change that.  Izayoi’s presence here was proof enough of that.  In his own provinces ignorant humans had believed a human sacrifice would somehow ingratiate them to him!  It was ridiculous, insulting even, and proved beyond doubt that they had learned nothing.  There was a difference between the low-class bestial demons who terrorized innocent villages, and high class youkai like himself - a great deal of difference.  But they refused to see...  Perhaps that was why so many higher class demons had given up on humanity completely.  They would never see demons as anything but base and evil.

          Izayoi didn’t seem to share that view, but she had grown up around it all her life.  Though he had never seen the evidence of it, surely she had not remained entirely unaffected.

          And, even if she did not share that prejudice, there was still the matter of their age difference.  He was centuries older than she.  It didn’t matter to him, but surely to a young woman such as herself that must seem an intolerable difference.  True, thanks to his demon blood, he still appeared young and healthy by human standards – and by demon standards he was fairly young, and certainly fit, and he would certainly outlive her if nature was allowed to run its course.  But she would always know that he was, by her standards, ancient.  What young woman wanted to be bound to an old man?  She would long for excitement, newness, discovery, and he would not be able to share that with her – he had seen all there was to see. 

          And there was the matter of his duties.  She didn’t deserve to live with the fear that her husband could die at any moment.  It wouldn’t be fair.  And if he were to die, what then?  Her people would never respect her knowing that she had been mated to a demon Lord, and Sesshoumaru could hardly be expected to care for her. What kind of life would that be for her?  Despised by demons and humans alike?

          He couldn’t love her.  It wasn’t fair to her. 

          And that meant he could no longer allow her to remain.  She was of the age to marry.  If she did not find a husband soon it was unlikely that she ever would.  And as much as he longed to fill that position in her life himself it was not his place... he had to let her go.

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          He found her alone in the koi garden, her favorite spot.

          He entered silently, so as not to alert her to his presence.  For just a few moments he wanted to just look at her.  Except that looking at her like this made him ache with longing.  He wanted to draw her into his arms and give in to this feeling that had been growing for months.  He could feel his heart rate increase, hear the blood pulsing in his ears.  Digging his claws into his palms he forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

          He opened and closed the shoji once more, as though he had just entered, the small cuts in his palms healing even as he lifted his hands to perform the task.

          Izayoi looked up at the sound; a hesitant smile touched her face before falling away.

          He could smell her nervousness.

          He wondered if it was in reaction to something in his expression, and he carefully schooled it into what he hoped was a calming pleasantness. 

          “Hello.” He began softly as he drew as near to her as he dared.

          “My Lord,” she dipped her head briefly and he felt his stomach tighten.  She hadn’t addressed him so formally in quite some time.  Did he look that intimidating?  Or was she upset about last night?  She hadn’t seemed upset.

          He smiled, reaching a hand to lift her to her feet and then taking a step back once she accepted his help.  He stood casually, willing her to relax, but it was difficult since he was far from relaxed himself.

          “You missed breakfast.” He smiled so that she would know he was not angry.

          She nodded, “My apologies, I did not sleep well last night, and the maids were reluctant to wake me.”

          He felt a pang, had her lack of sleep been caused by his actions?  But she truly didn’t appear upset with him.  Perhaps it had been the excitement of the day that had chased sleep from her.  “I missed you.” He admitted before he could catch himself.

          Amazingly that seemed to lift her spirits and she smiled at him.  “I missed you also.”

          Warmth filled him as she said that, but he quickly forced it back.  She merely missed his company.  After all, she had no one else to speak to, and no human companionship.  Of course she would miss their conversation.

          “What did they prepare?”

          For a moment he couldn’t remember what they were talking about, but then he shook himself into awareness, “duck omelets.”

          She grimaced and he remembered that she was not overly fond of eggs.

          “You could always tell them you don’t want eggs.” He pointed out. 

          She shook her head, “then they would think I objected to their cooking.  It is not their cooking which is at fault, but rather my taste buds.” She laughed lightly and he forced himself to join her.

          She was becoming more comfortable, but he was not.  He felt like the string of a bow, pulled taut, about to break at any moment.

          This conversation was so much harder to start than he had hoped it would be.  He decided the only thing to do was just get it over with.

          “Izayoi, if I were to send you back to your people, with assurances that you had adequately repaid their debt, would they accept you?” he asked with what appeared to be no more than idle curiosity. 

          She tilted her head at him, surprised at the sudden change in topic, but it was not really out of character for him to make such a switch, “My father would, of course,” she said slowly, “but the others,” she shook her head, “I’m afraid I cannot answer, for I do not know.”

          He appeared to consider this a moment.  “I will contact your father then.” he said abruptly, turning away from her.

          Izayoi started in shock, pain lancing through her heart. What was this?  She had spent much time thinking last night.  And she had come to the conclusion that she could be content with his friendship as long as he desired her companionship – and he clearly did.  So she had thought... but it apparently didn’t matter what she had thought.  Still, she had to know what had brought this on.

          “Have I done something to offend you, my Lord?” she asked, her voice timid and shaking.  She berated herself for her weakness.  He didn’t need to know her anguish.

          He stopped, half turning toward her, “Of course not – why would you ask such a thing?” he truly seemed surprised.

          “You’re sending me away...” she was dismayed to feel tears rising in her eyes.

          She saw him swallow, but he still didn’t fully turn to meet her gaze, “It is for your sake that I must send you away.” He told her solemnly, “You are of the age to be seeking a husband.  You cannot do that here.”

          She squeezed her eyes shut, relieved that he was not displeased with her, but heart breaking just the same, “but... I do not wish to leave.” She said quietly.  Had he been anyone else – any thing else – he would not have heard her, but his sensitive ears caught the broken whisper. She sensed movement and when she opened her eyes she was a bit startled to see intense gold staring back at her from only inches away.

          “Izayoi,” his voice was low and husky, and she was certain there was pain lurking in his eyes. A suspiciously familiar pain.  “I would like nothing more than for you to stay,” he shook his head slightly to keep her from voicing her obvious question, “but, if you do, I can no longer assure the integrity of your honor.”  The confusion in her eyes made it painfully obvious how naive she still was, and he swallowed, still keeping his gaze steadily locked with hers, “I love you,” he confessed quietly, “I desire you as only a man can want a woman.” Her eyes widened as she realized what he was speaking of.  “If you remain, it would be as my mate – my wife – I would not dishonor you by making you less.”

          She searched his gaze for long moments, and he watched in awe as her eyes seemed to shift from stormy confusion to crystalline clarity, “Yes.” She finally whispered.

          He brought his hands up to lightly grip her upper arms, as though assuring himself that this was real and not an illusion, “What?”

          She flushed, but did not look away, “Make me yours.”

          His hands tightened, but he kept his claws from puncturing her skin, “I am a demon.”  He reminded her.

          “It doesn’t matter,” she smiled gently, “when I came here, my father told me that I need not be afraid of you,” his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, “he said that you were just and merciful, and he was right.  You are that... and so much more.  You’re wise, kind, gentle, and caring.  People think all demons are evil, but they are wrong.” Her voice had risen in her conviction, but it dropped now, “You’re the most compassionate man I have ever known. I love you.”

          “Izayoi,” he breathed in wonder, bringing his hands up to gently frame her face before dipping his head to meet her lips in a tender kiss.

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Notes:  Okay, I know that nowadays in western culture a girl “becomes a woman” officially at 18, and biologically I suppose we could say it happens between 11 and 14 for most girls.  But in feudal Japan I’m guessing women married around 13, but weren’t really considered mature until 16 or so.  By saying that Izayoi is now a woman, Inutaisho is saying that he feels that she is truly a mature adult now...

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.