Chapter 04: Guidance from a Cat
Adrift in dark water, Sesshoumaru floated deep in a sea of nothingness. As an anchor to bind him, an unseen chain pierced him through the back and left him to face the black emptiness above. For ages, he hung there tethered until even the memories of sunlight faded into the void. In their place, the deep invaded, blotting out the world with black.
Then without warning, the chain snapped, falling away into the abyss as he slowly began to rise. Limp before their mercy, he let the currents carry him up as the water began to lighten from black to blue. The paling sea was lost on Sesshoumaru; instead he stared at the first glimmers of light with the eyes of a drowned man. Soon the dazzling rays of sunlight penetrated the water, dissolving the murk. Appearing above and marked by shards of white, the surface approached, its reflecting lights promising freedom with edges sharp like knives. His strength gone, he realized that he couldn’t stop and so he did what he knew. He surrendered. So through the flickering lights, he rose, listening to the delicate chime of glass striking as he waited to be cut.
Dark gray eyelashes fluttered and amber eyes opened, blinking at a blinding world missing for nearly half a millennia. The daiyoukai’s fingertips sought his eyes and he rubbed them soothingly until the glare dulled to reveal shadows and shapes. Above him was a white ceiling, smooth and clean with a strange contraption hanging from its center. It was a peculiar set of glass tubes suspended by bits of metal with a delicate chain dangling beneath it.
Drawing his attention away, a warm breeze brushed against his cheek and he looked to its source, a white plaster wall with an open window set in the middle of it. The parted blinds rattled quietly with the next gentle gust and beyond them, a tinkling ring stirred him with thoughts of white shards and an endless sea. Held by a thin string, a glass, wind chime hung from the eave, swinging lazily as it sang.
A bubbling purr began to rumble and Sesshoumaru looked down at his chest, realizing that the added weight upon him wasn’t natural. Although it was slow, his sense of feeling was returning. Forepaws tucked under its body, a plump cat lay upon him, its slit eyes regarding him coolly. Then it gave him a welcoming mew, sounding strangely reminiscent of a cow rather than a cat.
Feeling defeated by nothing more than an overfed, house pet, the daiyoukai decided to sit up. Sore and clumsy, he strained to shift his weight onto his forearms. Sensing his struggle, the cat stepped down from the warm roost, choosing instead to sit on the floor beside him. Muttering its bellowing mew, the animal offered encouragement. Unimpressed by the cheering, Sesshoumaru summoned his strength and began to push himself up until he finally managed to sit up. With his upper body hunched, he stared at the now rumpled futon lying over his legs. Then he felt something bump against the hand he had braced against the floor. Looking down, he discovered the cat rubbing against his forearm, pleased by his efforts. Clearly believing that its support had been pivotal in his success, annoyance brewed in the daiyoukai. After all, it might be right.
Deciding it was best not to think about it, Sesshoumaru began to examine the strange room. Surrounded by plain, white walls and a tatami mat floor, the space was simple and rather empty. It smelled of lead paint and old wood. Then he wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. And it smelled of humans.
Strong and potent, the human odors enveloped him, emanating from sources closer than the walls. Picking up the edge of the quilted futon, he sniffed it lightly. Musty and sweet, it had belonged to an old man. Then his fingers felt for the lapel of the thin, yukata robe that hung from his body. Even though the scent was faded by time, it still bore the faint musk of a young man. The presence of humans was indisputable, but by clothing and caring for him, their intentions only grew more mysterious.
Keen to investigate, he pulled the blanket back, exposing his legs. Although the daiyoukai’s body was shaky and sore, he gradually felt more in command of it, shifting each leg until it responded aptly to his will. Ready, he slowly bent both of his legs until his feet were under him. Then he pushed forward off of his hands, pivoting onto the balls of his feet. Between balanced and wobbling, he maintained his crouch and carefully began to stand up.
With legs like rubber, he took his first step next and stumbled toward the wall. Reaching out with his hand, he landed hard against it with a loud thump. Sliding to lean against it with his shoulder, he felt his heart drumming in his heaving chest. There he stood for a long while, waiting for his body to calm down. While he gathered his bearings, his fingers drew his attention next. Dull claws tipped them, their razor points lost to the passage of time. A once instinctive feat, Sesshoumaru concentrated on his youki, attempting to grow back his missing claws, but none of his familiar power surged through his veins. Instead, a foreign sensation spoiled in the pit of his stomach, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was fear.
The daiyoukai pushed away from the wall. Heading for the rice-paper, sliding door, his awkward steps began to grow steady as walking became natural again. His hand met the door jam and he slid the door down its track, revealing a hallway. Cramped and short, the hall floor was paneled with wood, its polish worn away. Quietly, he stepped out and began to follow the corridor. Fingertips grazing the wall, he passed several doors. His stealth however was routinely interrupted by the talkative cat following him and its constant need to announce his arrival.
The hallway ended in a flight of stairs and Sesshoumaru peered down at the floor below. Muffled by the walls, he could hear people talking and music playing. Blurting out a rapid chatter, the voices changed every few moments. One attempted to convince him that by using her soap, he could get his whites whiter and his colors brighter. A strange offering considering that he felt his hair was white enough. Another then asked if he’d like to feel fresher, but what a pad had to do with that was baffling.
Hearing so many voices vending and yelling, the daiyoukai lingered with hesitation. Without any youki or strength, he was in no shape to confront what could be hundreds of humans. Instead, he sniffed the air as he tried to determine their numbers and location. It might still be possible for him to sneak out. Then his brow furrowed. Despite all of the talking and bartering, he could only detect the scents of two males in the cacophony. It didn’t make any sense. He sniffed again and was met with the same result. Could they hide their scents and thus mask their numbers? What was the point of that if they were going to make such noise regardless?
Soft and slow, he began to make his way down the stairs. With one hand on the rail, his other was tightened into a fist. Dull nails grazed his palm and left him to wonder if he had the strength to defend himself if it came to that. Then his ears perked up. The merchants were silent, their confident shouts replaced by the singing of a young woman lost in love. Bizarre and cheerful, her song was peppered with bizarre gibberish from what might be a language he hadn’t ever heard before. Then sounding distinctly closer than any voice he’d heard yet, an old man began to mutter.
“She’s a pretty cute girl,” Grandpa said with an appreciative tone to his voice, “I like how she shakes her butt.”
“Ugh, grandpa,” Souta grumbled. “I don’t want to hear about what you like again. It makes you sound like some dirty, old man.”
“Bah! I don’t have much time left, so I ought to enjoy it.”
“By looking at girls’ butts who are as young as your granddaughter?”
Grandpa scoffed. “It’s better than looking at old lady butts. They’re all wrinkly and saggy.”
“I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to get some more tea.”
“I want some too. Take the tray and refill the pot.”
“Yes, grandpa.”
“And bring back some of those red bean sweets while you’re at it.”
Souta sighed. “All right.”
Tray in hand, the boy came around the corner, eyes on the floor and complaining under his breath. Then a strange, tall figure caught his eye and he looked up. With a loud crash the bamboo tea tray struck the floor, scattering ceramic shards of the now shattered teapot across the wood.
“Oh shit.”
“What was that?” Grandpa yelled from the other room, “Guess I’m not the only one who has a bad habit. You better get those sweets if you don’t want me to tell your mother.”
Wide-eyed with shock, Souta gawked at Sesshoumaru who stared silently in return. Neither moved nor spoke, their minds absorbed by what options they had for escape.
“Souta, don’t worry about it,” the old man yelled again, worried when he didn’t hear a reply from his grandson. “I won’t tell your mother about your cursing, after all I’ve said worse out in the storage shed.”
Limping as he backed up, the daiyoukai began to move away.
“Sesshoumaru,” the boy spoke up, his voice trembling and barely more than a whisper.
Perplexed and made uneasy by his knowledge of his name, the demon kept moving, edging down the hall and away from the boy, the old man, the mysterious vendors and the singing woman.
“Wait, Sesshoumaru,” he said louder and took a step forward.
Fierce and vicious, the demon growled.
Souta froze in place, terror coursing through him. “Kagome!!”
His scream for reinforcements wasn’t lost on the daiyoukai and he instantly moved away, stumbling down the hallway in a hurry. In no position to fight, he needed to find someplace safe to hide and regain his strength. If they were malicious humans who intended to harm him, he would make them regret it soon enough. Until then, he had to figure out where he was and what to do.
Ahead, bright sunlight diffused through another rice-paper, screen door and a slight smirk played on his lips. Behind him, the boy continued to sound the alarm, but the demon paid him no mind when his shoulder slammed into the door frame. Reaching over, his hand grabbed the handle and he slid the door open. There was little that they could do. He was free now. Then he looked out and for the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru’s mouth dropped.
Behind a paltry veil of trees, a city beyond his imagining hummed. From the vantage point of a small hill, he stared down at asphalt streets, the sweet odor of tar pungent in the heat of the summer afternoon. Bustling across the roads, giant, metallic beetles scurried. Trailed by faint puffs of smoke, they hummed and roared as they went, carrying humans under what could only be their half-translucent wings. Above them, multi-colored lights flashed beside huge signs painted with meaningless words and smiling, human faces. Towering amid them, massive buildings rose far overhead, their tallest crests seeming to mingle with the wispy clouds that marbled the pale sky.
Preceded by a deep mew, the daiyoukai felt soft fur rub against his calf. Tearing his sight away from the chaotic city, he looked down to see the cat slip past to hop out onto the porch and then pad down the steps to the ground below. Devoid of surprise or fear, its indifference dissolved Sesshoumaru’s complete astonishment and he soon followed.
With a hobbling gait, he walked out onto the courtyard. There, his sight roamed over the trees and buildings as he tried to sort out where he was. An old, iron bell caught his eye and he nodded. He was at a shrine, but that only left him with more questions. It was safe to say that as a youkai lord, he didn’t care for them, so to awaken in one was profoundly mystifying. What priest or monk would harbor a demon rather than purify it?
Turning the corner, he soon came across an enormous tree. Full and a vivid green from the spring rains months before, the daiyoukai stared at it, sure that he had seen it somewhere before. Then his eyes brightened and he remembered. Bigger than his memory served, it was the sacred tree, Goshinboku.
Stepping through the gate, he walked up to the trunk and felt its smooth bark with his hand. High up, he spied the deep, elliptical notch left by an arrow, reminding him of the one time he visited it with a purpose, to see his half-brother sealed to it. Brow furrowed in thought, his memory of Inuyasha’s sealing stirred up another memory, one of the young woman who seemed to always be at his side. He referred to her as Kagome, did he not? Wasn’t that the name the boy was yelling earlier?
“Sesshoumaru?” a woman called out, her voice oddly familiar and out of place.
‘Are my memories manifesting in reality?’ he wondered silently with eyes closed. ‘Has time degraded my mind this far?’ He hoped not. He then pivoted on his heel, turning around.
Graced with black, wavy hair and gray eyes, it was a memory that awaited him. “Sesshoumaru, it’s me, Kagome.”
One by ladybattousai