Chapter Text
SONG OF THE WEST
an Inuyasha fanfic
i.
Rin adored the summer festival. She loved the tumult of the little village, the way that everybody seemed to work together to make sure the week-long grand gala remained the charming, prosperous event it had been for centuries. Seeing travelers from throughout the land flock to the city to barter their wares brought back fond memories of her and her elder brother walking together with grand hopes and dreams after a season of sorrow. Only children, they had no money for food, much less the expensive fabrics and jewels on display. They enjoyed strolling along the bustling city streets of Yobetsu, listening to traveling singers chant the ballads of great heroes and their conquests and romances, pretending they were the wealthy children of some nobleman instead of poor orphans. Baubles twinkled and tinkled about them; honied candies set in their molds; and people laughed and played.
Though she had been forced to watch the festival from afar in recent years, Rin never forgot their sights and sounds.
“Hurry,” an impatient voice said, disturbing her daydreams. At the mouth of the small alleyway, a dark-haired boy stood with his back to her, watching out for any potential witnesses. “My father will look for me soon!”
Rin whined in discomfort as his friend gave his last few thrusts, the music from the festival across the river in Yobetsu serving as her only solace. The ground was hot and hard, and the boy smelled of something nauseating. Relief washed over her when she felt him pull away, his foul breath a ghost on her neck and shoulders. He pushed her from him and groaned as he stood.
“Congratulations, Gōjō,” the dark-haired boy mocked. “You’ve finally had your first fuck. With a whore, but it counts. How do you feel?”
Rin put one small hand on the wooden wall beside her to pull herself off the ground. After adjusting her threadbare, patchy yukata, she turned to face them, her dark doe eyes inspecting both boys in want.
“Be quiet,” Gōjō said to his friend. He fumbled with his robes, wanting to avoid Rin’s gaze at all costs.
Gōjō had been far less bashful when his friend had brought her to him. Rin easily recognized him as the youngest son of a farmer in the village, a boy only a few years older than her. He had been left behind while his father and elder brothers attended the festival to sell what was left of their late-spring harvest.
She had caught Gōjō staring at her with a frightening fervency for the past few days. As much as she didn’t want him to come, she desperately needed the money for food. Though the excitement of the festival was the best time to steal what she needed, the locals were accustomed to her tricks. It was why Gōjō’s father had left him behind. She had been caught and punished too many times already; she did not need any missing fingers.
The dark-haired boy laughed. Gōjō, finished with his yukata, looked up at Rin with anxious eyes.
“Give her the money, Kahei,” he said.
There was something sinister in Kahei’s eyes as he walked over with a small burlap sack in his hands.
“For your hard work,” he sneered, holding out the sack for her to take.
As Rin reached forward, Kahei snatched the sack away. Laughing, he emptied some coins onto the dusty earth. Rin could hear the other half clinking together in the bag.
“I’ll return with the rest later,” he said, taking the time to let his dark eyes linger on the space between Rin’s neck and shoulder that her loose-fitting yukata had left undraped.
Rin shivered. Kahei turned to exit the alley. With a shy nod towards her, Gōjō followed his friend with no words to spare.
Rin waited for a few seconds to make sure they were far away before crouching to inspect her wages. By now, she was all too familiar with these quick exits. It would be dishonorable to be seen with her.
The money would be enough to buy a small meal, she deduced. In one swift movement, she gathered the coins and stood.
The afternoon sun bathed her face in warm gold as she emerged from the alleyway and onto the main road of the village. If any of the townspeople saw her, they paid her no mind. Rin liked it this way. Many of them were too busy watching the train of wealthy festival goers and merchants pass through with their elaborate wagons and prized horses to throw any dirty looks at a village whore.
To get to Yobetsu, the city tucked between two mountains where the festivities would occur, one had to travel by the main road that led to the bridge over the river and divided the little village into two neat halves. This allowed the villagers to see many exotic people and objects from different areas of the country.
Though Rin had a desire to stop and observe the passing cavalcade, her stomach demanded most of her attention. She nimbly made her way through the throng and over to a small food vendor nearby. The owners of the shop had sharp tongues and charged her more than they ought for such a small amount of food, but they were the only people in the village who would accept her money. The shopkeeper did not allow her to come around when there were other customers out of fear that the community would shun them for catering to the village whore. It was busy around this time of day, but the festival had drawn all its usual customers elsewhere, which meant Rin could perhaps purchase a meal with ease.
As Rin drew near, she saw the shopkeeper’s daughter, a stout pregnant woman her age with a plain face and thinning hair, was speaking to another woman. This woman donned clothing much finer than what was seen in the little village. Rin wondered if she was the wife of one of the passing merchants.
Both women noticed Rin at the same time. The dark eyes of the finely dressed woman fell on her with an awkward sort of scrutiny, as if appraising her. Rin clearly failed to pass her test, for the woman knit her dark brows together and turned to the shopkeeper’s daughter.
Rin felt her face heat. She probably smelled like sex and whatever strange aroma the farmer’s boy had borne.
Meanwhile, the shopkeeper’s daughter’s eyes flitted back and forth between Rin and the merchant’s wife, her thick hands rubbing her stomach in a restless manner.
“Take your business elsewhere, whore!” she spat. “We have no need for the likes of you.”
Rin’s stomach growled in response. She pursed her lips but tried to remain amicable. “I have the money—”
The wealthy woman’s eyes narrowed, and the shopkeeper’s daughter grew flustered. “How dare you talk back to me! The Lady and I were in the middle of a discussion. Unless you’re as blind and deaf as you are dumb. Begone!”
If Rin stayed to argue with the woman, to defend whatever shreds of honor she had left, she might never get food in the village ever again.
As she turned away, the rude women resumed their conversation.
“She’s some cheap wench, madam. A thief, too! She and some boy arrived here several years ago. I guess their folks died from that plague in the East a while back…”
“And she has been leeching off you good village folk ever since?” The merchant’s wife deduced.
The shopkeeper’s daughter hummed her approval. “She’s laid with most of the boys in this village by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she single-handedly spread another disease! Anyone who leads such a life must be cursed.”
The villagers always spoke ill of Rin, so the woman’s words came as no surprise. Still, she could feel a sense of humiliation rising to replace the hunger inside of her.
The wealthy woman made a small sound of agreement. Then upon turning to watch the travelers, she gasped.
“The Inu no Taishō!”
The two women froze. At the same instant, an imperceptible fog fell over the villagers, sending them into a quiet state of reverence and astonishment.
A handsome man sat bestride a massive black horse riding at a relaxed pace. Though his frightful golden eyes gazed forward at the path and the people before him, his mouth moved as if he were speaking to someone closer. Even from her position behind the crowd, Rin could not miss the gigantic sword at his hip or the large blade attached to his back, albeit hidden behind his long, silvery hair.
“I’ve heard he and his clan are direct descendants of the moon god,” the shopkeeper’s daughter said, running her hands over her stomach out of awe-inspired nerve.
“I’ve heard that said about the young Lord and the Princess,” the merchant’s wife countered. “As for the Inu no Taishō, I was told the storm god himself trained his ancestors in battle!”
The person beside the Inu no Taishō looked like someone out of a dream, one of the imagined heroes from her youth. His hair and eyes bore the same hues as those of the Inu no Taishō’s; thus, it was easy to deduce that the two were related. Though the Inu no Taishō seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties, the man who rode beside him was younger, perhaps in his early twenties. For a moment, he seemed only to be concerned with the hushed words of the Inu no Taishō, paying the crowd no attention. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he turned and met Rin’s gaze for a fraction of a second before turning up his nose in absolute disgust.
Rin’s face turned a bright red. Somehow aware of his son’s sudden indignation, the Inu no Taishō turned to face Rin, his brow raised. But before he could get a better look at her, Rin disappeared into the small alleyway.
The shopkeeper’s daughter, also noticing Rin’s sudden flight, snickered. “See! It seems as if her charms do not work on every man.”
Thus, Rin’s day went as usual: filled with much discomfort, with very little pleasure in return.
And she was still hungry.
That day had been one of the better days, though. Despite the rejection at the shop, she had earned money for food. Other days had not been so kind to her. Every day she went without facing too much of the villagers’ wraths was a blessing. Verbal abuse was something she could handle. She didn’t know how much more physical damage her delicate frame could take.
Exhausted and sore, Rin trekked through the village’s various alleys towards her makeshift home, a neglected hut on the outskirts of the village. Save for a blanket, an old tatami mat, and the small box at the foot of it, her hut was empty.
Rin opened the box. All that was in it was her mother’s wooden comb, the only thing she had left from her past life. Rin clutched the comb to her chest. Though it reminded her of many wonderful memories like her mother’s long hair or the gentle feeling of the woman’s soft hands, it brought back many painful ones as well: the loss of her mother, father, and youngest brother to the plague; the sight of dead, bloated bodies. But the stench, perhaps, was still the most vivid. A sickly sweetness had clung to her and her older brother’s clothing, signaling to others they met the two were bad luck. They were walking hazards, bearers of death, and were treated as such wherever they went.
Somehow, her older brother Tarō had convinced a few people to transport them in exchange for their family belongings. That was how they survived back then, by trading what little their family had owned for shelter and food and transportation. She could vaguely remember the long cart rides as they bounced from village to village.
That was how they ended up in the rotten place she was now trapped in. The comb, the last symbol of their old life and family, was the only thing her brother could not bear to pawn. The villagers treated them poorly, especially when they were forced to steal to survive. But at least they had each other and their mother’s comb.
Then Tarō disappeared.
It had been ten years since her brother told her he was going to Yobetsu to find work, only to never return. She had searched for him when she realized something was wrong. With bare feet and shaking hands, she asked around for her brother’s whereabouts, but no one could tell her where he was. Some people were truthful about their ignorance, while most simply did not want to be bothered by a sickly orphan girl.
Rin placed the wooden comb back into its box next to the tatami mat before lying down. She released a heavy breath before willing herself to rest.
When the sun finally disappeared behind the rolling hills on the horizon and she could no longer bear her aching stomach, Rin took another chance at the food shop. The storefront was now barren; the only people there were the shopkeeper’s daughter and wife, cleaning dishes in silence.
The daughter clicked her teeth as Rin approached and placed one hand on her swollen stomach.
“Mother, look who’s back! I had to send her away when she interrupted my conversation with the merchant’s wife,” she explained, smirking and rubbing her belly. “Now, she’s come back to waste more of our time.”
The shopkeeper’s wife was much older, with fading black hair, a stern wrinkled face, and unpleasant dark eyes. She was one of the many people who treated Rin and her brother with contempt the moment they set foot in the village.
She huffed and turned to look at Rin. “Did you make any coin today, girl? My husband isn’t around for you to tempt for food.”
Rin nodded and laid her coins on the counter. She watched as the older woman scrutinized her wages with hellish eyes.
Then the old woman laughed. “This is nowhere near enough!”
Rin’s shoulders dropped. She might not have been educated, but she wasn’t stupid. “This is the same amount I gave a few days ago…”
The older woman crossed her arms. “We’ve since raised our price.”
“Do you take us for fools?” The shopkeeper’s daughter growled. “You steal one of our bowls, and now you’re arguing with us about the price?”
Rin’s stomach growled in response. The young girl was growing desperate. If she didn’t eat soon, she would pass out. Her gaze snapped towards the shopkeeper’s daughter at the random accusation.
“I never stole your bowl,” Rin raised her voice slightly, pushing the coins towards them. “ Please. I just need a bit of—”
The shopkeeper’s daughter grabbed Rin’s wrists and yanked them towards her, causing Rin to stop and wince.
“You’re the only one who would do something like this!” she hissed. “Do you realize we could have these pretty little hands cut off right here for your thievery? And then have you flogged on top of that!”
“Now, that seems to be too barbaric a punishment for being short of coin, doesn’t it?” a deep voice asked, out of Rin’s view.
Rin saw the mother’s face turn white. She yanked her daughter away from Rin before bowing. “Good afternoon, Lord Inu no Taishō!”
The legendary figure had sneaked up on the trio amid the mayhem. He was just as tall and handsome as he had appearance, Rin noticed a bit of warmth in his fierce, golden eyes.
“We’re terribly sorry we didn’t have time to prepare anything for you, Your Excellency!” the daughter said. “We weren’t expecting you!”
The Inu no Taishō turned his sharp gaze towards the accused. Rin bowed her head in reverence and shame.
“So,” he started, “did you steal one of their bowls, girl?”
Rin shook her head. “I have no idea what they’re talking about.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s a known liar,” the crone snapped, forgetting the Inu no Taishō’s rank. At a simple raise of his thick brow, however, she backed down.
“We have proof, too! We count the bowls each night. She came around earlier trying to get free food, so I sent her away. She left only after making a scene,” the daughter lied.
“And you both are certain she is the only one in this village that could’ve taken it?” the handsome man asked, as if testing them.
The wife hesitated. “Well, yes. That girl has been stealing and whoring since she first stepped foot in this village. She’s probably stolen from everybody by now.”
Too tired and ashamed to argue, Rin kept her eyes on the ground in silence. She could feel a hard lump of despair rising within her throat.
The Inu no Taishō paused for a moment, his gaze flickering back and forth between Rin and the two women. Finally, he brought his hands from behind his back to reveal two halves of a broken bowl.
Eyes wide, the shopkeeper’s wife stuttered. “H-how did you—”
“I saw some children playing with it on the way here. Quite dangerous,” he said, glancing at a surprised Rin. His bright eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement.
“It seems as if we were wrong,” the shopkeeper’s wife bowed again, embarrassed. “We’re sorry for wasting your time, my Lord.”
She turned to face her daughter, who hung her head in shame.
“Prepare some food for him, girl! Hurry!”
The pregnant woman nodded and quickly prepared a plate.
“If anyone deserves a meal, it’s the accused. She looks as if she’s ready to swoon,” the Inu no Taishō said. Then, reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a large silver coin and placed it on the countertop next to the bowl. “Will this be enough?”
The wife’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when they fell upon the large coin. “This is more than enough!”
With a wolfish grin on her face, the shopkeeper’s daughter slid Rin a plate of meat, rice, and vegetables, a massive improvement from her typical meal of pottage. The sight of it almost brought her to tears.
The Inu no Taishō gave her a warm smile before turning to leave. “Enjoy the festival.”
Then he was gone.