Godlike by Rachel

The Curious Demon

A/N: A special thanks/shout-out to my reviewer autumngold, who unknowingly inspired me to take this chapter in a very different direction from what I originally had planned. Kudos to you!

It’s almost the end of my first semester at college, and I’m procrastinating on essays by writing this. But you all mean far more to me than my professors do, and have far better and constructive things to say about my writing than they! I write for you, after all.

••• This chapter is also an entry for Skye’s newest weekly challenge – the prompt is ‘Evolution’ •••

Disclaimer: I do not own Apuleius’ version of The Myth of Cupid & Psyche, nor do I own Inuyasha or its characters.

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            The end of the hour was announced with the ringing of the temple gong. The golden sound flittered over the excited crowd in one sonorous note, and with a collective breath, the thousands of guests turned their heads toward the lord’s home. The sun had long since set behind Akio’s home, but the sparse evening clouds were stained pink by the last remnants of its rays. Colorful lanterns strung up on cords of silk were lit by the hundreds, casting a serene yellow light upon the countless upturned faces of the villagers. There was a great hush upon the crowd as they waited in suspense for the wedding to proceed, a silence interrupted only by the occasional wail of a child, asleep on her feet.

            Within the lord’s home, the silence was even more deafening. Masuyo, having changed into a simple red kimono for the ceremony, was standing by the door of the house, peeking out at the crowd now and then through a crack. Akio was nearby, taking long, slow sips of sake to calm some of his nerves. They were waiting on Musubi to arrive to make the ceremonial walk from the home to the dais where he and the princess would be married, but he had not yet returned from the stables.

            Unlike her father, Kagome was not allowed sake to calm her nerves, nor was she allowed to go near the door lest the spectators behold her without her intended. She was made to kneel in her bedchambers by the door and wait for word of the general’s arrival and to make no attempts to leave the house. Kagome was happy – overjoyed, in fact – to be back in the safety of her own room, but with the situation at hand, being cooped up inside of the stiflingly dark chambers was torturous. She yearned to be out in the open air, and yearned even more to be finished with this marriage nonsense. Akio and Masuyo were lucky to have lured a man like Musubi to the village, for if it were any other man preparing to walk her to her doom Kagome would not have left the bedroom unless the entire Western army was at their door.

            And she was uncomfortable, to the highest extent of the word. Her hair had not been changed from the style it had maintained throughout the day, but the white marriage shroud (which in her opinion looked rather foolish on her) precariously perched over her black locks forced her to maintain a slightly bent neck so as to avoid wrinkling the delicate fabric. It was awkward, uncomfortable, and on top of having to wear an even heavier kimono than before, it was very trying on Kagome’s patience. Where was Musubi? He had to have heard the signal...

            Peeking out the door between short intervals, Masuyo would frequently gasp as if she had seen the general finally emerging from the crowd, only to wave Akio away, calling it a false alarm. It had been only five minutes since the signal had been given for the start of the ceremony, but without the general, there would be no such event. Akio could hear the servants already gossiping about the absent General Musubi, and the words passing from their lips only served to exacerbate his aggravation.

            Without the sun to mark the passing of time, Kagome was left to her own devices to calculate how much time had passed since the signal had been given. By her estimation, ten minutes had elapsed since the ringing of the gong, and by all appearances, General Musubi had still failed to present himself for duty. The princess fidgeted with the thick hem of her wedding kimono, the opalescent silk shimmering in the dim light of the lamp outside her bedchambers. Kagome was waiting in complete darkness, and it was driving her mad as nothing else could. Where was the general?

            Fifteen minutes after the gong had been rung, the village stable-boy came running up through the crowd, waving his arms frantically. The people parted for him like the waves and the boy fell up the steps to fall prostrate before the door of Lord Akio’s home, his hands outstretched before him. Within, Masuyo beckoned her husband over to behold the happenings.

            “Do you know this boy?” she whispered. Akio shook his head, but gently moved his wife aside and opened the door. The onlookers took in a collective breath, as if the news the boy bore would be announced loud enough for all to hear. Without a word, Akio knelt and placed a gentle hand on the child’s shoulder, urging him to pass on the news through touch. The stable-boy rose to his knees, maintaining a bent head out of respect for the venerable Lord Akio.

            “What news, my lad?” Akio asked, his hand still resting on the boy’s shoulder. The young villager heaved a great sigh that ruffled the frayed edges of his tattered work kosode.

            “I bear unfortunate tidings, my lord. It appears as though General Musubi has left the village.” The boy spoke in a whisper so as to avoid letting the villagers hear him, but Akio heard the words with painful clarity. The lord sat back on his heels and felt dismay fall heavy upon his shoulders.

            “His horse?”

            “Gone, my lord. The general told me to allow no one into the stables while he prepared for the ceremony, but when the summons rang and he did not appear, I entered to pass word along, but the general was long gone.” The stable-boy’s voice was watery and he clenched his eyes shut, prepared for the inevitable strike. Lord Akio would be furious at the boy’s inattention and would reprimand him suitably before the thousands of disappointed spectators. The child’s breath hitched when the lord’s hand squeezed his shoulder, but when the hand fell away without so much as a slap to the face, the boy looked up into Lord Akio’s eyes and wondered at the sympathy he saw within them. How could the lord be so composed in the face of such misfortune?

            “Return to your duties, my boy. You were right to inform me of the situation.”

            The stable-boy got to his feet with a gasp. When he bowed, the lord spoke again.

            “What is your name?”

            The boy of no more than twelve summers met the lord’s steady gaze with his own.

            “Kohaku, my lord,” the boy replied. Satisfied, Lord Akio patted Kohaku’s shoulder with a heavy hand and bid him to return home. When the lord stood after the boy disappeared into the crowd, his face was solemn but impassive, as if the news he had just received was not going to effect a single part of their life in the village. With steady hands, Akio raised his arms into the sky and told his people, as well as the people who had come from afar, the situation.

            “Good people,” he intoned, “I am afraid that General Musubi has been called away on urgent matters. The marriage will be postponed until he returns for his intended!”

            And with that, Akio turned on his heel and stole inside of his home, uncaring as to the deep groans of disappointment that came from the masses of people just outside. Masuyo shut the door to the house quickly, coming to her husband’s side with a face that bespoke all her deepest worries. For a short while Akio did not meet her eyes for fear of seeing the concern he would behold in them, but when the woman did not cease tugging persistently on his sleeve, Akio met Masuyo’s gaze and sighed.

            “The general?” she whispered. Akio shook his head in utter defeat and resignation.

            “Gone.”

            “For battle?” There was little hope in her voice, but Masuyo was dedicated to her family and would not be downtrodden until all possible chances had been rendered asunder. But Akio again shook his head, and Masuyo felt that last shred of hope leave her.

            “He is gone. I fear he came only to make a fool of us...” Akio looked over his shoulder at the closed door of his daughter’s bedchamber: “...to make a fool of Kagome.”

            Masuyo went to speak again, either against the general or for their daughter’s sake, but Akio merely took his wife’s hand in his own and lead them to their own bedchambers, passing by Kagome’s room without so much as a word through the shoji screen. Akio had not the heart to tell his precious daughter the awful news, but he did know that she was dangerously perceptive and would have already come to the unhappy conclusion that had befallen the entire family: there would be no marriage between Kagome and General Musubi.

            Kagome watched the silhouettes of her heartbroken parents pass by her door like ghosts on display, and when they passed out of sight completely, only then did the young princess reach up and tear the bridal veil away from her head, releasing the thick onyx waves of her hair upon her shoulders in so doing. The wretched piece of silk landed somewhere on the other side of the room with little more than a gust of wind that died as soon as it was made. A servant passed through the hall and blew out the lamp that offered Kagome what little light there was to be had. The sun was long gone.

            She remained there, sitting by the door in her white bridal kimono, hair undone, for some time. How long, she did not care to know or remember. There was little solace to be found, and whatever she did find was produced by the complete blackness of her silent room. The spring wind had even lost its fervor during the proceedings of the fall-through wedding.

            When Kagome had finally regained enough of her wits to stand, she quickly realized that instead of feeling intense sorrow, there was a flood of fury in her hard-beating organ of fire. With careless, oily fingers, the princess tore the wedding kimono away from her body with growls and quiet curses, not caring if the fine silks were spoiled beyond all reparation. When the soft fabrics were satisfactorily strewn all about the bedchamber, the princess took to kicking the edge of her mattress with short, sharp hisses through her teeth.

            “Foolish Kagome, stupid general...” the princess paused and held up her hands in the air by her head, fluttering her fingers and batting her eyelashes prettily. “Oh, Musubi, of course I’ll be your wife, so long as you promise you’ll run off before you can marry me and make me your miserable beating post!” With an exaggerated sigh, the girl fell upon her bed, wearing nothing but the sheer sleeping yukata that would have screamed virgin bride to any knowing husband, if only there had been a husband to see it.

            “What will papa do now?” she wondered aloud. Since realizing that the general had disappeared and would not be marrying her, Kagome worried over the state her father must have been in. He now had to fend off the other lords before they waged war upon him, all because some general had shirked his own wedding. Rather than feel unhappy, or – Kamis forbid – heartbroken, Kagome was infuriated at how the general had so happily duped them for pleasure when their very lives rode on her marriage. Could a man of such honorable rank be so heartless? So cold? Kagome pressed a hand to her brow and sighed.

            “Poor papa...poor mama,” she whispered into the blackness of the room, within which no one would hear her grieving lamentations or her livid frustrations.

            But for all of Kagome’s wit and sharpness of tongue, she did not possess any keener senses. For if she had, she would have felt the overwhelming presence of a mighty demon outside her open window long before she had opened her mouth to proclaim her feelings about the general and the plight of her family.

            Sesshoumaru had heard, and seen, it all. He had seen the maidservants dress the princess in the ceremonial wedding kimono. He had watched as young woman knelt by the door to wait for the general’s return. He had heard the stable-boy tell Lord Akio of the samurai’s disappearance. He had watched the girl’s shoulders drop, crestfallen. He had listened to the lord’s hastily made remarks about the wedding being postponed, and he had heard the frantic beating of the Lady’s heart when she heard the news.

            Then he watched with some fascination as the young princess tore almost every article of clothing from her body, cursing the general’s name and the misfortunes the man had brought upon her precious family. And when the girl had fallen upon her bed in a mass of black hair and angry breaths, Sesshoumaru wondered if perhaps he – just like Musubi – had underestimated the tiny human woman.

            As he watched Kagome begin to fall asleep, he reflected on the day that had transpired before the evolution of the Higurashi family’s downfall. Vinasu had seen to it that many of her son’s personality traits were subdued with Musubi’s human ones, which, Sesshoumaru had to admit, was very smart to have done. Had he been merely himself with a human exterior, he would not have had the stomach to woo the human female. With a romantic heart like Musubi’s, the job had been far simpler, but his mindset had remained the same throughout the proceedings: kill the princess.

            Through Musubi, Sesshoumaru was able to familiarize himself with a Kagome that, apparently, not even her family was aware of. She was far from being the simple-minded villager that his mother had made her out to be, but that did not change the fact that the princess’s stubborn streak was a nuisance to both the demon and the general. It made it difficult to court the girl quickly, and while Musubi seemed to truly like the princess, Sesshoumaru did not share the same sentiments. She was beautiful, certainly, and the demon prince appreciated a sharp mind in a woman; but considering the circumstances, a dim-witted simpleton would have made the assignment far less painful for everyone involved.

            Sesshoumaru watched with some fascination as the angry breathing patterns of the flustered princess eventually evened out into the steady inhalations of deep sleep. She had forgotten to cover herself with the bed sheets, which left her practically bare, save for the wedding yukata that she had failed to remove in her wrath. Standing silent just outside of the girl’s window, it dawned on the demon prince that this was the first woman he had ever seen, if only almost. He considered her face beautiful, of course, but in his ignorance, Sesshoumaru did not stop to think if that beauty was a part of all of her. Musubi had thought about it throughout the day, much to the demon’s chagrin, but now, as he beheld the young woman in almost all of her Kami-given glory, he could understand why the human lingered on such thoughts.

            She was small, amazingly so, but shaped like a woman. Her hips flared out just enough to form a soft curve before meeting her proportionately long legs. Her waist was not scrawny like the starved courtiers that his mother ‘employed,’ but soft and natural, befitting her size and shape. From beneath the filmy yukata the demon prince could see the moderate swell of her breasts, neither small nor heavy with milk, tipped with dusky nipples that stiffened from the cool breeze brushing against them. Her throat was long and defined, with delicate clavicles that were neither pronounced nor imperceptible. Her hair, which had come undone in her anger, laid about her head in a perfect circle of black waves, and the cherry-blossom scent of her locks reached the demon prince with delicate brushes of fragrant air.

            Sesshoumaru was looking upon a mortal girl, but in her, he saw a true woman. He was not so ignorant of the happenings of the married and the depraved to know that while this woman was divinely beautiful, she was still untouched. By the way she had reacted to Musubi’s near kiss, it was apparent that even such an act of affection was unfamiliar to her. Sesshoumaru wondered at this, for he had seen such open displays among the people of Kagome’s village, and yet she had never experienced it, herself. Was it not a common custom among humans? He did not know, for he had never experienced it, either. When Musubi had pulled in close to the princess, the demon prince had reeled back, which had caused the girl to fall against him as she had. He had been shocked at the loss of control he’d had, as if the general had truly taken on a mind of his own.

            Sesshoumaru fought the shivers of disgust and placed a tense hand on the girl’s windowsill. With one delicate leap, he flew through the opening and landed without a sound at the princess’s bedside. He towered over her, and so he knelt. Even in the darkness, the prince’s close proximity to the girl gave him a much clearer view of her barely-concealed figure, and the sight of it set the demon’s blood to a low boil. Did he desire her? Sesshoumaru shook his head of such notions and dragged his eyes to rest upon the girl’s face. It was peaceful in sleep, but there was an edge of sorrow that made the sight of it mournful to behold.

            Sesshoumaru found that he pitied the human princess even then, as he knelt over her, prepared to make the kill. His hand had gradually come to rest just above her delicate throat, his claws scant millimeters away from her pulse. He pitied her beauty, and he pitied the misfortune it had caused her and her family. While her personality had been mostly torturous to the stoic demon, her veracity – and certainly her reaction to Musubi’s disappearance – had been intriguing to the demon so used to feeble and ignorant humans who did not have the intelligence necessary to survive. Kagome was different...beautiful...special...the evolution of his feelings towards her was late in coming

            But she had to die. Vinasu’s will was law, and not even her own son could disobey her. Sesshoumaru and Musubi might have been different in heart and body, but the demon prince had come to realize that their opinions of the human girl had retained many similarities. She was such a curious human in all aspects of the word, and it seemed a terrible shame to behold her for a day only to kill her in her sleep at night. Sesshoumaru almost sighed in his disappointment, but refrained. It truly was a pity – Kagome would have made a wonderful pet.

            The demon prince channeled his energy – that which wasn’t being used to maintain his invisibility – into the hand hovering above Kagome’s neck, and a soft green glow appeared, but only to his eyes. The assassin beheld the peaceful visage of his unfortunate target with a lingering glance before he raised his hand in preparation for the death strike.

            And just as his hand began to descend, Kagome’s eyes opened wide. The demon prince’s hand fell away and he sat back a barely suppressed gasp, for the princess was looking directly into his own eyes, despite his being completely invisible. Could she sense him? Could she see him?

            When Kagome winced and broke eye contact with the invisible demon, Sesshoumaru quickly came to his senses, only to feel a burning in his opposite hand. When he looked down, the sleeve of his kimono was pulled back to reveal a deep cut in the skin just below his wrist. It would not have burned because of his poison, for the energy had cut short in surprise when the human woman had looked into his eyes, but still the cut burned. Sesshoumaru looked at the princess, whose own hand was pressed up against the column of her throat. She looked surprised but otherwise unhurt, until she pulled her hand away.

            Sesshoumaru beheld an abominable thing – there was a lighter cut on the side of the girl’s neck, and blood was seeping from it. It was not life-threatening in any way, but it was deep enough to draw blood. With a dawning sense of dread, Sesshoumaru realized that the burning sensation in his wrist was the presence of the princess’s blood as it combined with his own.

            He had inadvertently taken the blood of a woman into his own. While the demon might never have known the pleasures of the flesh, Sesshoumaru knew what such an action meant to his kind – it irrevocably bound the woman to him as his destined mate. After this, he would not only feel desire, but he would desire her, and no other. His entire being would seek to bind with her fully, and until he did, he would not be at peace. Sesshoumaru had just sealed his fate, all with one slip of a claw.

            And with that realization, the demon prince leapt out of the human princess’s window and ran far, ever farther, into the night.

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            I know this was shorter than the last chapter, but it got things rolling! I know the whole blood thing has become kind of cliché, but I needed to find a way to create a similar scenario of the myth that fit Sesshoumaru’s character (since Fluffy doesn’t go around shooting people with arrows making them fall in love...). Either way, I hope you enjoyed it! It’s not my best work so far, but it’ll do for now.

x

Rachel