Facade of Order by emertheawesome

A Sea, a ship, and a Girl

A/N: Unbetad. Disclaimer for entire story: I do not own, or lay claim, to Inuyasha. For future reference, there will be fictional characters of my own making in this series. Also, I don’t actually have internet, so updates will be sporadic. Say hello to my first true multi-chapter fic.

~W~

Façade of Order

~W~

“Real discoveries come from chaos.”

~Chuck Palahniuk

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”

~Judy Garland

~W~

The island was small, stationed some miles off the coast of the main land, split by treacherous waters and questionable creatures. Ships never passed through and the boats that crossed were always manned by the bravest and most skilled sailors, Sesshomaru saw to this.

It was necessary, the separation. One did not run a militant compound that was easily accessible to opposing forces. Secrecy was of utmost importance, and Sesshomaru treasured that. The island was not small by any means. Thin forest and long sloping meadows fed the herds they kept to sustain the men and their wives. In between simple buildings—an armory, a kitchen, a minute medical shed, quarters for the single men, houses for the married—lay gardens bursting with herbs and vegetables.

On the outer edge of the simple wooden dwellings were fenced off dirt pitches, filled always with the clatter of swords, the thump of fists, and the strained grunts of men as they honed skills already close to perfect.

Sesshomaru watched them with a keen eye; his hands clasped sedately behind his back and face impassive as he studied each man’s strength and weakness.

Beside him stood Toku, an older advisor with broad shoulders and weather-worn cheeks. He closely resembled the boar of his demon heritage.

“The wind’s been acting odd today,” Toku muttered, scanning the sky warily. Clouds hung low and bloated, draping across the fields and ocean as though their weight was too much to bare.

“Hn,” replied Sesshomaru flatly. “As long as it does not delay the supply vessel.”

On the side of the island facing the bulk of sea were docks for the larger ship, the Taisho Tsukino, which traded with other ports further down the coast.

“Perhaps,” Toku mused, his cropped locks mussed as another strong gust of wind ripped through the training grounds. Sesshomaru calmly tucked his own silver hair back, securing it with a leather strap at the base of his neck. “But I’m sure they will weather it fine. Good crew.”

Sesshomaru didn’t deign to respond, instead turning to stride away to the armory. Toku watched the younger man with a wry smile on his chapped lips. “That boy needs to lighten up,” he murmured to himself. Then he turned around to belt a shout at one of the boys training. “Don’t think I didn’t see you lower your fists, Kyoharu! If I have to whip that lesson into you I will!”

O o o o o  o o

After checking the armory to ensure all the weapons from the morning’s training had been put away as directed, Sesshomaru decided to visit the medical hut. As the leader of their small but fierce group he ensured that every aspect was taken care of personally, even for something as simple as sunburn poultices. He frowned as the wind picked up to a deafening howl, grasping at his tunic and breeches viciously.

If Sesshomaru was a suspicious man he would believe the wind was unnatural. The morning had begun clear and warm. Only in the afternoon had the weather worsened so drastically, the wind gaining a taunting feel to it. Fortunately Sesshomaru believed in logic and strength, and not unnaturally spiteful winds.

Stepping into the small space afforded some relief from the buffeting gale; through it could still be heard pounding through the thin walls. A friendly fire crackled in the hearth and Kaede, the resident healer woman, dozed in wicker chair before it. The three linen pallets lay empty, and behind them was shelf upon shelf filled with pots, glass bottles, dried herbs and various tools. Experience told Sesshomaru that poultices and medicines filled those plaster bowls and ornate bottles, though as to their purposes he could only guess. He was a warrior, not a medicine man.

His intention had been to question Kaede about the sufficiency of her supplies, but her dozing figure told him that could wait for another day. If there was anything truly urgent she would seek him out. Leaving the shed was a slam in the face. Rain lashed at his skin and the wind screamed madly. Rivulets of water streamed through the beaten dirt pathways creating mud and tricky puddles. In the gloom of the gale Sesshomaru could see Toku striding towards him.

“Sesshomaru!” Toku shouted, squinting to avoid the stinging rain. “I’ve sent the boys down to lash the boats to the cliff face! This storm is too strong to ignore!”

Sesshomaru nodded in understanding. “Have one of the men double check the livestock; then have all of them assemble in the meeting hall. We will remain there until it calms.”

“The women and youngsters are already there. Head there and I’ll follow shortly after.”

Both men set in different directions, Toku to find a boy and Sesshomaru to the meeting hall. The wind grappled with him, but Sesshomaru sloshed his way through it. Reaching the hall was a relief, though he had to restrain the door from whipping open violently as he entered. The eyes of women ranging from young to crone age fell upon him as he entered, dripping on the sanded cedar floor. A few other sopping men warmed themselves by the fire, cradling mugs of tea and coffee to their numbed lips.

Sesshomaru nodded in acknowledgement before situating himself on the floor against the opposing wall. The combined heat of the hearth and people kept the large area warm and comfortable, despite his soaked state. A few minutes later Toku entered with another gaggle of men, stomping boots and wringing jackets. Wives and daughters swarmed to see to their comfort, and Toku advanced upon Sesshomaru’s resting place.

Warm brown eyes rested thoughtfully on the dog demon before laughing genially. “Not even a cup of tea, Sesshomaru? I promise it won’t weaken you.”

Sesshomaru quirked an eyebrow, but shrugged. “It is not necessary.”

Toku leaned against the wall beside him, adding the puddle Sesshomaru had already started on the floor. “Unnecessary, maybe, but no one would fault your enjoyment and comfort from it.”

Sesshomaru didn’t deign to respond, instead watching men receive comfort and attention from the females. Wives fawned over husbands, daughters smiled timidly at the younger men—newer recruits—while offering them a warm drink and a towel. Meanwhile the building shivered with each thrust the wind sought to throw, barraging the timber mercilessly.

“The shrine will be receivin’ plenty of visitors after this,” observed Toku.

“You say so?” Sesshomaru responded mildly, amber eyes glowing thoughtfully in the dim chamber.

“A storm this fierce, this unnatural—? You can be assured of it. Hardened warriors they may be, but don’t fault them for clinging to faith.”

“They should spend more time honing their skills.”

Toku scowled, shifting his arms to cross his barrel of a chest. “They spend enough time at that. These men are as trained as they’ll get, let them make an offering and a prayer every so often. You know the importance of morale.”

If anyone knew the importance of morale, it was Sesshomaru. He had tried to impose his own simple lifestyle on others in the beginning, only for it to create opposition and depression. Concessions, within reason, had to have been made—leading to the women on the island, the shrines, and the occasional dance. Toku had taken to playing a lilting pipe during these miniature festivals, and Sesshomaru had taken to sitting in the corner stoically.

“Not a superstitious man myself,” muttered Toku, “but this wind ain’t be seemin’ natural. There’s something malicious about it.”

“Don’t be rudimentary, Toku.”

Toku snorted, but his posture remained tense, and his ears keen to the howling outside. Occasionally another man would slip into the hall, weary and shivering, after completing some chore or another. Sesshomaru watched all this calmly with the knowledge that his men were trained well enough to execute perfection without instructions.

Periodically another man would leave to check on restraints and fences and a few of the other people inhabiting other buildings. The chatter died down to a low murmur and then silence as a few drifted off to a fitful sleep and others stared pensively into the fire. Toku silently slid down the wall to lounge beside Sesshomaru, who remained as vigilantly awake as ever. The bear youkai began to drowse when a loud shout could be heard from outside followed by the door banging open.

Sesshomaru was on his feet faster than lightening, Toku up a mere second later.

“What is the meaning of this panic,” Sesshomaru questioned intently, unsatisfied with the young man’s desperation.

The young man, Sen, gasped, his face pale and terrified. “A ship!” He finally breathed out. “There’s a ship out there, and I think they’re sinking.”

Silence last for only a split moment, enough for everyone to absorb the horror of the proclamation, before Sesshomaru began lashing out orders. Immediately men donned their jackets, set their mugs down, and filed urgently out of the hall. Sesshomaru led the way, his long legs deftly carrying him through the wind and over the streaming eddies of rainwater.

“Wake Kaede!” Sesshomaru ordered Sen. The rest grabbed supplies: furs, stretchers, bandages. Sen had pointed seaward, and the path there was slick and uneven. Boots squelched and men tumbled gracelessly through the muck. The path steepened as they closed in on the beach. Sen had seen the ship from the cliffs southward, but the closest path was through the eastern fields, so they trekked steadily and efficiently until they reached the pebbled shore. A single file line trailed along the cliff face, the waves reaching for them hungrily. The sky and sea were so dark as to barely be distinguished from each other, though it shouldn’t have quite been nightfall yet.

Sesshomaru scanned the waves silently. Nothing caught his eye, and he was going to be severely displeased if the young man had been imagining things in his superstitious fear.

Then the cries reached them.

With the wind it should have been impossible to hear their voices, but somehow the gale carried it just right so they could hear the screams and pleas for help. Rounding a sharp corner left them in full view of the sinking ship, hull high in the waves with the other half being sucked quickly into the angry sea. A low moan of stressed timber filled the air, followed a piercing crack as one of the masts split in half, dipping into the swirling black of the waves.

“We won’t be able to reach any by boat,” shouted Sesshomaru, “not with the storm. Fan out and wait for them to wash up. Do not get near the waves otherwise!”

The screams continued, yet the men retained their bearing, scanning the beach for any human crawling ashore. Time seemed to slow and planks and nets began to cast themselves upon the slate gray pebbles. A chest followed, then a large piece of ripped white linen that must have once been a sail. Cold seeped in, but Sesshomaru ignored it.

Finally a dark figure was released unceremoniously from the wave’s greedy grasp. Two men rushed forward to pull the figure out. They dragged it halfway up the beach before checking the person over. After a few seconds they both stood, and Sesshomaru knew the human was dead by the way they deposited the body behind them against the rocky face.

After that more humans washed ashore, but none were alive. A line of bloated corpses began to trail against the slate edge of the cliff—pale, beaten, and slumped over as though napping on each other’s shoulders. Finally the bodies stopped appearing, and with a nod the men began to carry the ones found across the beach and up to their small establishment. The bodies would be stored in an outer shed until sufficient graves could be dug and a small ceremony could be planned. They would not cross into the spirit world without guidance.

Sesshomaru took another lingering look at the ocean. The ship had disappeared beneath the violent currents, and only the churning ocean and debris strewn beach were all that was left of it. With a sharp turn of his heel Sesshomaru followed his men to deposit the bodies and attempt.

O o o o o o o o o o o

Sesshomaru’s chamber was not a standalone structure, but instead stationed off the edge of the barracks. It was a mere closet of space, retaining only a pallet and chest to carry his spare clothes and personal items. Propped gently against the far were his two swords Tenseiga and Tokijin.

A usual routine would consist of him undressing followed by washing away the dirt and grime from the day with a bucket of icy water he would bring with him. Exhaustion overcame him though. Sesshomaru stripped, toweled off, then slipped beneath the soft furs of his bed, uncaring that his soaked hair would dampen the pillow.

Sleep was fitful. Around midnight the winds calmed and the tremendous chatter of nightlife rose—the proclaiming owls and serenading crickets. Buildings and vegetation dripped in a steady melody, seemingly unaffected by the recent storm.

At dawn Sesshomaru rose, dressing in loose clothes and striding out of the barracks as his men slept deeply around him. The night had been late and strenuous so he would let them rest a little bit longer. He was not so lax himself, adjourning to the training grounds despite their muddy state and beginning to stretch. He was halfway through his third maneuver with the sun casting a peach glaze across the sky when Toku found him.

“Not surprised to see you out here,” the larger man greeted amiably.

Sesshomaru finished his maneuver before straitening and picking his way over to Toku. Mud splattered his boots and breeches.

“Toku.” Sesshomaru replied stoically, “The men are waking?”

Toku grinned. “Of course. Probably chowin’ down breakfast right now. What do you wish to do with them today?”

“We will scour the beach again. A few of the younger men will begin to dig graves. We will need that shed sanitized before shearing begins.”

The boar demon hummed thoughtfully, eyes glinting as he eyes the mucked practice yard. “Too bad we don’t have more time. I would’ve loved to have a match with you; seen your fine hair muddied.”

Sesshomaru smirked at him. “Highly doubtful, Toku. Though I’m sure you could get one of the younger women to launder your outfit after I was through with you.”

Toku guffawed and stepped away. “No need for that today, master of the island. There is business to follow.”

“Indeed,” Sesshomaru bit, glaring at the unnecessary reminder. “Uncouth Boar.”

Toku belted out another laugh before swaggering away, probably headed off to the kitchen flirt a few extra cakes out of Tsubaki’s tight hands. Sesshomaru watched him with a sigh, shaking his head in exasperation before following. He had his own breakfast to see to. His strength would need to be fueled for today would be a long day.

The sun was high in the sky when they set forth, once again toting stretchers, as well as empty plywood crates to store any miscellaneous items they could possibly find useful. The path was still slick with mud, but nowhere near as treacherous now that it was sunny daylight with only a slight, playful breeze. The briny smell reached Sesshomaru’s nose, and he resisted sniffing as he also caught the scent of sodden wood and salted skin.

More items—chests, clothes, boxes—had washed up, as well as a few more bodies. Their skin glared a bright, pasty blue in the sunlight, seemingly out of place in what was normally a peaceful place. Sesshomaru strode down the beach, checking on the chests and crates that had washed up. One was filled with damp silks, ruined by the seawater. Another had been filled with a manuscript of some sort, now illegible with wet, all the pages clinging together.

Sesshomaru ordered it all back to the village to be officially sorted through later. Perhaps it was a merchant ship that sunk.

A shout distracted from further down the beach caught his attention. A man huddled over the prone figure of someone splayed across the shore. Another ran over with a blanket, followed by two more with a stretcher. A survivor.

Sesshomaru strode over calmly. The rest of the men continued to collect and sort debris, excluding the small group that tended the lone boy. His hair was long and loose, curled wildly over delicate, wan features. Perhaps someone’s son, or a cabin boy. His attire consisted of a flowing, off-white smock tucked into fitted breeches, which were held up by a deep purple wrap that was tightly bound his waist.

Gently his men lifted the boy’s slight figure onto the stretcher, tucking a thick blanket in around him before turning to Sesshomaru.

“Kaede.”

They nodded, and two men picked up their burden with practiced ease, striding down the beach until they were out of sight around the turn. The other two men stood and strode off to continue searching. Sesshomaru stared out into the sea thoughtfully, pondering the answers he would receive from the one survivor.

O o o o o o o o

Kaede rose as her door swung open, revealing two bulky men with a stretcher in-between.

“A survivor, hm?” Kaede asked, not expecting an answer. Swiftly the men placed the stretcher on the paneled floor, stepping back as Kaede kneeled over the boy, studying him with the keen eye of a healer.

“I’ll need him out of these clothes, and I’ll need you two to do it. Agility has left me in my old age.”

They came forward, undressing the boy awkwardly to reveal scraped and bruised arms, a slim body, and a bandaged chest. Kaede’s good eye flashed and narrowed as she stared the slim waist and rounded hips. Before they could unwrap the bandage and the loin cloth Kaede stopped them.

“Out,” she ordered sternly, and both men nodded, padding out of the room. Before the last one left he paused.

“She’s clenching something in her hand. Couldn’t get her to open her fist.” Then he was gone and the door shut with a resounding thud.

“Not all brawn then,” Kaede muttered, impressed with their skills of observation. It was only half a thought though as she focused on the slim, battered figure of the girl who had been disguised as a boy. As the man had said her fingers were tightly curled around an unidentifiable object, knuckles white and wrist tense. Whatever it was must have been important for the girl to not release it even half dead.

With a sigh Kaede proceeded to strip the girl of her meager rags, wrapping her scrapes and covering her with a linen sheet and thick, warm fur. After stoking the fire Kaede gently lowered herself to her wicker chair, staring at the girl thoughtfully.

“You have quite the story to tell, young one,” she whispered to herself as the girl’s rattling breath echoed throughout the small room.