The men were gathering for battle again. Kagome watched as her village leader went door to door, collecting husbands and male children. She had hidden Souta in a secret room beneath her floor boards with instructions not to say anything. The village was desperate, a sense of fear overwhelming everybody. It seemed as if no child was too young anymore. The Japanese were nearby, holding the rest of their province hostage. She could understand the urgency the members of her village felt. Her mother had confided to her the horrors of what would follow Japanese occupation. She had been indoctrinated about the atrocities that would come, right up until her mother’s death two weeks earlier. Even war didn’t put a stop to the flu. She reached over her pouch of herbs, grabbing the bucket that held the freshly dried grains of rice she harvested the other week. One handful would do for the day. They would have to ration soon and there was no point in putting it off. Both she and her brother could survive on rations until this war was over.
The fire was nothing more than a small flame on a pile of sticks and, though she knew it wouldn’t get much larger due to wet wood from the recent rains, she kept feeding it anyhow. Perhaps it wouldn’t get larger, but maybe it would get stronger. She just needed it strong enough to boil water. Men walked past her and Kagome lowered her eyes. It would be impolite to gaze upon them. She was a mere girl. War was not her business, unless the village men asked her to feed them. She was still in mourning. They would leave her alone out of respect. She hoped.
She watched from under hooded eyelids as wives and mothers said goodbye to their husbands and children. Even the elderly, the heads of households, were being armed with old, ragged guns. They would be nothing against the Japanese, she knew. The Chinese army held much power but, as they were engaged elsewhere, the unorganized men who marched out would be able to do very little to stop the oncoming invasion.
She would be spending her nights busy, she knew, as she ran from hut to hut offering medicines and herbs to those who were injured in battle. Trained in the ways of ancient healing, she held a power that made her both untouchable, yet in demand. Women from all over provided her with the herbs she would need. She kept a steady supply of plants required for healing salves already pressed and contained in a little bag. All they would require was water which, in and of itself, was scarce lately. Water was a precious commodity, needed to sustain those going off to battle. It was just one more aspect of the rationing.
“Higurashi!” a deep baritone voice called out. She looked up momentarily to see the village leader approaching her hut. She lifted herself from her crossed legs, ignoring the slightly boiling water and rice set aside in the cloth next to the pit. Sitting on her knees, she bowed low to the coming visitor, ensuring that her eyes would not meet his. According to tradition, she was not worthy of such a treat. She was female, as lowly as they come, and treated as such.
“Lord Kouga,” she acknowledged, keeping her head to the ground. “It is an honour.”
“Your brother, Higurashi. He has yet to check in with my generals.”
Struggling not to panic, Kagome spoke the rehearsed lie. She would not send her brother, her only surviving family member off to die. Trained or not, Kouga could not keep an eleven year-old boy alive. “He is not here, my lord. He is off visiting my elderly aunt, Kaede. She is not healthy and requires assistance. Souta offered to go and help, my lord, knowing that her hut would need repairs and she’ll need a steady supply of wood to keep her fires going. She has help from the other females in her village, but all of the men are off fighting.”
He regarded her for a moment. She could feel his icy blue gaze on her and she resisted the temptation to lift her head. It would almost mean certain death if she did. She was not worthy according to law, though inside, she knew her worth was so much more than his. She only wished she could vocalize this thought without repercussion. It was not in her nature to act the meek and docile woman, though she would if it meant her own survival.
“When will he return?”
“He will wait out the winter. He is still young and travelling during the harsh winter will be a danger to him. Once spring arrives he will know that my aunt is okay and will return to work in our village again.”
She hoped he bought the lies. Family ties were important enough that there should be very few questions, but then, it wasn’t common either to have the family split as such. Many of the huts here still housed several generations of the same family. Her father had kicked her, her brother, and mother out of his house. Finding a place that was acceptable for them was a difficult task and, as such, they were often regarded as lower class than everybody else. The only thing that kept them from being pushed out of the village entirely was her ability to heal the wounded and help the sick.
“We will have won by then, so it will not matter. Your family holds honour, Higurashi, to be so good as to send the only surviving male to help those who despise you.”
She flinched at his praise and felt the anger growing within her. Her fists clenched together at her side and she had to remember to bite her tongue. Kouga meant no offense. To speak to him of her ire now would only alienate herself from everybody else when she needed the village support now more than ever. She feared Japanese occupation. More so, she feared the idea of being cast out on her own with Japanese soldiers traipsing along the countryside, or her own country’s soldiers, who may not have been with a woman for months. She was not so innocent as to not know what would happen to a girl like her on her own.
“Perhaps, Higurashi, when this is complete and we have returned successful, I will marry you. It would do very well for my family to have a healer in the midst. You will be honoured.”
“I am honoured, my lord,” she bit out, attempting to sound grateful when in reality she was appalled by his arrogance. How dare he! How dare he dictate her future. She was unwed, untied to any man. Kouga had had his eye on her for a long time and once, long ago she found him handsome. But she also found him conceited, overbearing, full of pride, and egotistical. He would not do for her at all. She wanted a husband who recognized her value for what it was, not for what she could offer him. Her skills at healing were an asset, but they didn’t define who she was. Kouga just recognized the power he would hold within his hands if she belonged to him. “When spring comes and Souta returns home, I will send him back with a message to my aunt. I dare not marry without family consent. It would be dishonourable.”
His eyes narrowed, focusing in on her much like the way a wolf watched his prey. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of him touching her. In truth, there was nothing wrong with the man and he would make a wonderful husband to any girl. But she was not any girl. She was Kagome Higurashi, and she demanded a man whose sole focus wasn’t on himself. He turned and walked away, but not before she saw the upturned quirk of his lips as he smirked. He was that sure of himself. It irritated her to no end.
Turning away, she walked back into her hut and shut the door. The rice would be fully cooked soon and there was enough duck to feed both her and her brother for the next two days if they ate it sparingly. It sat upon a stick in the middle of the wooden structure roasting. Though unseasoned, it smelled good to her. She turned the spit again so it would roast on the other side, and then padded silently over to her futon. The mats slid aside easily enough and she pulled up the knotted wood that identified the trap door. “Souta?” she whispered as she peered in. She would give him notice that it was her.
Terrified eyes stared up at her from the near darkness below; save the one lamp she had him bring down. “Just checking,” she reassured.
“Are they looking for me? I should go with them, Kagome.”
“No!” she cried, jumping down into the darkness. The room was small, but well kept. Her mother had done well in anticipating what might come when she had it built. There was a small dresser for clothes, a shelf for personal items, and a futon. She hated locking Souta up in here, especially when he was so young. He hated the darkness, but the thought of him lying dead in a pool of his own blood because he was untrained was so much more frightening. “Kouga would have you killed in an instant if it meant he’d be able to get to me sooner. Furthermore, he has no use for you. He wouldn’t cover your back. You’d be lost because everybody else would care more for themselves than a child. Stay here, stay hidden.”
“Kagome,” he sighed like a typical eleven year-old. “I’ve been older than my age for a long time now. It’s my job to take care of you, not vice versa.”
She walked over and ran her hands through his hair before pulling him close for a hug. He had no clue what losing the last surviving member of her family would do to her. “You are taking care of me Souta. You take care of me by taking care of yourself. If you’re gone, I have no one left to care for. There will be plenty of time for war later, when you’re older, when you’re trained. I’ll give you up to the army then, but not to some local guerrillas. They have selfish motives. They would not hesitate to sacrifice you if you became a hindrance. Stay, Souta. I’d lose it now if I lost you, and I would lose you.”
She let go, smiling at him. “Dinner is about ready. It’s not much, some roasted duck and rice, but it’ll suffice. We’ll be rationing our food. I also have a pot on the fire boiling water for some tea. I’m sorry it’s not anything fancier.”
The boy smiled at her as she turned away. He was so little, she thought, much smaller than some of the other boys his age. She watched them all walk out of the little village with rifles in hand. She knew that less than a third would return at the end of the day. Just the other day they were running around and playing with each other, completing chores, finding water, things that a normal child would do. How would they behave on their first kill? Could they kill? She couldn’t believe that one of them could kill a Japanese soldier without repercussions. Souta would do it if it meant surviving. The Higurashi’s were survivors. But that didn’t mean he would remain unaffected. She heard of the battles that were beginning in the West. She heard of the bloodletting, the loss, the stories of houses being burned to rubble and blood flowing down the street like a river of water. Souta would be no more than a number if she lost him. And, if he survived, he’d be no more than a shell.
She would have neither.
The first crash came when she put her hands on the rungs of the wooden ladder. A quick look to her brother and he extinguished the small oil lantern, enshrouding them in darkness. She climbed quickly and silently, lifting the floorboard just a touch so she could peer into the room. Seeing nothing, she climbed out and covered it with the futon once more. There would be nobody finding her brother today. Her bow and quiver were retrieved from her chest. Though she knew they would be little defense as they were used for hunting, she also knew they were better than nothing. The hut became silent, with the exception of a man’s heavy breathing.
On alert, she peered through the door into the main room, then gasped as she saw the blood pooling on the wooden floor. Long, silver hair mixed with it, staining red, and his eyes were closed. Dropping her weapon, she ran out to meet him, rolling him onto his back. Stomach wound. The knife was still deeply embedded. The slight rise and fall of his chest told her he was still alive. The healer couldn’t abide the blood, though she knew to help this man would be treason against her country, and most certainly death. If she wouldn’t send Souta to his death, why should she condemn herself?
The blood was still warm, sticky as it gathered around her fingers on the ground. A price would be paid.
His life or her honour.
“Souta,” she called as she slid her arms under the man’s shoulders. He could not stay within sight. “I need your help. Open the floor and stand at the bottom of the ladder. I’m going to pass somebody down to you. Be very careful with him. He’s gravely injured.”
AN
This is for Walter’s WW2 fic challenge. It shouldn’t be any longer than five chapters. I’m going to stay close to the time era and what I know, but there may be some factual errors and more errors on society and customs.
Disclaimer: Inuyasha and company are not mine. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi.