The Source of Solace

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. Rumiko Takahashi has that singular privilege. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

THE SOURCE OF SOLACE

WARNING! Dark imagery and lime, adult situations and issues. Foul language omitted on ff dot net.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The beautiful youkai feigned disinterest, but her red eyes, half-lidded with pretended boredom, focused on the psy-medic’s oral synopsis of what the grave doctor referred to as the ‘subject’.

Kagura had an acute interest in this particular subject of Dr. Higurashi’s, but it would never do to let anyone else know that. From childhood, Kagura had been rigorously trained in the subtle manipulations of the Game. Her father, Lord Naraku, had been an aggressive player of the youkai’s greatest sport. Some of his long-laid plots were openly applauded, though many also believed his manner of retribution shockingly crass and his personal tastes almost humanly base. His well-known fascination for the tenets of the Marquis de Sade were held in aloof, often scandalized contempt by the other youkai nobility of his caste.

“With continued application of Alteration’s basic concepts and criteria, I foresee that the subject’s psychological wavering can again be controlled, and that her almost childlike behavior restrained. This small incident of independent initiative can be repressed, and her natural tendencies toward violence suppressed.”

“Perhaps we should not suppress her nature.” Another doctor, one of several who were attending this meeting, argued. “From what I understand...” Here he paused to flick though his notes, “the subject may have need for those…ah…tendencies.”

“Need?” Dr. Kikyou Higurashi raised a skeptical brow. She was a coldly beautiful woman for her kind. Kagura could almost admire the amount of self-control and aloof distance the austere woman cloaked herself with.

The doctor coughed, put off by the mild sarcasm in Dr. Higurashi’s quiet voice.

~Neatly played.~ Kagura thought to herself, waiting for the outcome of this particular game.

“What need could the subject possibly have for her violent nature not to be suppressed?” The woman pressed, her manner seemingly surprised, but her dark eyes held only contempt for the incompetence of her colleagues.

Dr. Latham, the nominal Head of Psychological Research on Station Nine, coughed politely, covering his colleague’s embarrassment at looking so foolish in front of so noble an audience. Kagura’s red eyes flicked toward the other Lord, who had remarkably decided to attend this particular meeting, which from what little she gathered, was highly unusual.

But then, nothing was ever usual with Sesshoumaru Takahashi. He was an enigma, even among youkai kind, and the reasons for whatever he did never discerned. If the late Naraku had been lauded for his aggressive moves in the Game, then Lord Sesshoumaru was almost worshipped for his subtlety and poise. He was known for keeping his enemies close, and his ploys closer.

Why he should take a particular interest in this particular subject was cause for careful consideration, but then again, it may have been nothing more than a courteous gesture on his part, to impress upon his feminine guest that he took interest in what interested HER. And that, too, bore food for thought…

“Suppression of the subject’s inherent nature could be decided at a later date, could it not?” The Lord chose to helpfully interrupt the tense silence that had descended on the meeting, his golden eyes almost mild as his gaze touched each doctor in turn. Most of them looked away, unable to stand even so mild a glance, though Dr. Higurashi withstood it with unruffled composure.

Dr. Latham coughed again, stirring uneasily in the hard plastic of his utilitarian chair. “Um, yes, my lord. What you say is entirely true. Suppression need not be debated at this time. There is still time to decide the matter. As it stands, there is still quite a bit left to do, in regards to reactivating the subject’s initial responses and integrating additional precepts of her Identity Alteration.”

The inu lord allowed a faint, approving smile to touch his perfectly-sculpted lips, and it did what it was supposed to do, charming the simple ningen, both men and women, into following his unspoken order that the meeting was now adjourned. With far less fuss and delay than was normal for such things, the room was soon emptied of all but a few lingering participants.

Dr. Higurashi had possibly been the only one unaffected by the Taiyoukai’s charm. She took her time putting her notes into proper order before departing the room without a backward glance. Dr. Latham, her mentor, had paused to bow before his Lord and benefactor. With gushing gratitude, the old man acted the venerated fool of any ningen presented with youkai preeminence. It was almost disgusting, really, how the competent doctor could turn into such a fawning worm of a man.

“My lord, I wanted to personally thank you for your attendance to this informal meeting. My staff and I fervently hope that---“

Lord Sesshoumaru, now that he need not charm anyone to his whims, gave the man a contemptuously bored look. “You may leave, doctor.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Flustered, the man bowed and scraped his way out, though he took far too long for Kagura’s impatience. How such a competent medic could turn into such a cringing hem-grabber was almost beyond belief. How Sesshoumaru could control his ningen subjects so thoroughly should have impressed her, but it only left a bad taste in her mouth.

Finally, the man had groveled himself out, and Lord Sesshoumaru came to bow mockingly over her hand, his golden eyes appraising. “I hope that this tedious exercise in monotony did not bore you, my lady Taiyoukai.”

“Mmmm.” Kagura made a dismissingly noncommittal gesture. This Taiyoukai was dangerous, and the sooner she was able to leave her host’s particular hospitality, the better.

“Will you take a stroll with me in the gardens on Level Six? They are called ‘Eden’ for the beauty of their exotic blooms, and I have commissioned their cultivation to satisfy even one of such discerning tastes as you, Lady Wind.”

Kagura smiled slightly, though it was brittle. Her deep red eyes gave none of her emotions away, for which she was grateful. This inu was a deep player of the Game, none of the subtle nuances would escape him. But she did not wish for company right now, and cried off with a rather paltry excuse. “Perhaps another time, my lord. I find myself unused to the atmosphere onboard Station, generous as your oxygen replenishment systems are, and grow easily wearied as a result.”

“Understandable, my lady, especially for one to whom the air around her plays no small part in her true nature.” His smile was soft, his golden eyes calculating.

Kagura dismissed his probing half-question with an airy wave and an easy smile of her own, though her red gaze had hardened. “Your understanding is greatly appreciated, my lord.”

“I am glad, Kagura, that we can understand each other so well.” Using that mysteriously pithy non sequitur as farewell, the powerful inu picked her slender hand up to lay a soft kiss on her wrist. With a final bow, and enigmatic look out of golden eyes, the Taiyoukai withdrew, leaving her alone.

~Finally.~

Kagura swept to her feet, her energy belying the weariness she had just claimed. There was much she needed to do, and little time to do it in. First, she must gather every scrap of knowledge she could gain on the particular whereabouts of certain enemies of both the inu lord, Sesshoumaru, and her late father, Naraku. It should be easy; a youkai’s sense of wrong could last as long as the rather amusing myth of a cat’s, and she was merely of the first generation, not the seventh. Her revenge would be the hotter for that fact, not the lesser.

Revenge was not always a dish best served cold.

*~*~*~*~*

“There are some new, interesting, players in the game.” The words were thoughtful, the voice sensuously deep.

“Ah?” The other man sat back, steepling his hands in front of him with an air of mild curiosity.

“It should prove…interesting…to see how this game is played out.” Another, his face hidden deep in the shadows, commented.

“Mmm.” The comment was noncommittal, an echo of the kaze youkai’s not long before.

“Interesting, to say the least.” The second man agreed with irony.

“So long as we are agreed on the outcome, gentlemen.” The first man said, his tone rather sharp.

“Is it not already assured?” The man in the shadows asked with negligent disdain.

“Nothing is ever assured.” The deep voice answered darkly, his cold eyes hooded.

*~*~*~*~*

“My lady, there is someone requesting an audience with you...”

Ayame looked up sharply as the soft voice of her ningen servant fell off, surprise coloring the old, gray-haired woman’s faint scent.

Ayame frowned, seeing what had startled the old woman, who was usually so unobtrusive that Ayame often forgot her presence. The ‘someone’ who wanted to see her was standing right behind her servant, having usurped his place and followed the old woman inside.

Green eyes flashed, and the ookami female did not try to hide her displeasure, even though the young ningen offered her a courteous bow of deep respect.

“My lady Ayame, I offer my sincerest apologies for intruding in on you in this uncouth fashion, but I have an urgent matter of some delicacy to discuss with you.”

Contemptuous, Ayame dismissed her servant with a wave. “You are impertinent, human.”

“Yes, my lady.” The gall of him, that he was agreeing with her! Perhaps he was an idiot, and only agreed because he did not know what the words meant. The stupidity of ningen never ceased to amaze her.

Seeing as she had not dismissed him outright, the idiot gained a measure of courage, and tentatively stepped inside her private sitting room. “My lady, allow me to introduce myself. I am Hojo Gentry, a merchant who has just recently come to Kyouko to personally investigate some potential ventures my investors are currently considering. I have learned that we may have a mutual interest in some…ah…comparative concerns.”

What could possibly interest her that would also interest a disgusting, idiot ningen? He was diverting, however, and his obeisant behavior soothing to her youkai sense of virtuosity.

At least the fool knew his place.

Still…

Before she could make a move to arbitrarily dismiss him out of hand, the young man spoke in a rush. “Our mutual concern, my lady, is the young onna, Sango Jennar.”

Ayame’s brow wrinkled with irritation. “Who?”

The man WAS an idiot. What would ever make him think that she would be concerned with a stupid ningen woman, unless it was some young slut she had dismissed from her service. Not a few of her youkai admirers had amused themselves with the younger, feminine members of her grandfather’s staff---which had infuriated Ayame no end. In a fit of pique, she had dismissed the lazy pack of sluts, choosing to employ the plain and elderly women like the servant who had shown this fool in, though even their discretion was hardly on a par with what she SHOULD demand from mere ningen…

The man seemed taken aback that she did not recognize the name, and Ayame felt her irritation growing. “Say what you will and then leave my presence. I hardly think that I would have anything at all in common with some ningen girl, and less care!”

“But I was told that Sango had usurped your place in Lord Kouga’s interest---” The man began in confusion, though Ayame’s screech of outraged fury broke him off in mid-sentence.

“You speak of that slut to ME?” Her rage boiling over so that crimson flashed across her eyes, Ayame picked up the nearest object to hand---a delicately carved and very expensive Mayajaan vase---and threw it across the room, so that it hit the far wall with a satisfying crash of shattering glass.

The young man drew back as if afraid she would throw him next. The scent of his nervous apprehension actually soothed Ayame’s anger, and she could feel the fury receding from her reddened eyes. It was with almost lazy disdain that she seated herself, lounging back and staring at the timid fool with a faint smile on her soft red lips. She noted that the man, ningen though he was, was rather a handsome specimen for his inferior species, with deep blue eyes and light brown hair. Not as impressive as a youkai would have been, perhaps, but not bad either.

“So, Hojo.” She gifted him with a smile that had devastated many a stronger spirit than his, and shifted, so that her loose white robes parted, allowing a healthy expanse of thigh to show. The blue eyes were riveted to her exposed flesh, and Ayame felt the familiar sense of empowerment fulfill her. With a negligent wave of her hand, she summoned the young man to seat himself beside her. He almost fell over himself rushing to obey, as she knew he would.

Leaning forward, she pressed her polished claws against his chest with a light touch. With parted lips and half-closed eyes, she said softly, “Yes, my young man, it seems we have MUCH to discuss…”

*~*~*~*~*

Sango avoided the wolf lord whenever she could. It was surprisingly easy, for it was rare for Kouga to come and visit them at the cabin in the woods, as he was busy with his own concerns. When the black-haired youkai did come, he often disappeared into the forest with Inuyasha, hunting and trapping and doing whatever else guys did, as Kagome airily put it.

Her days assumed a quiet pattern, and she took on as many of the household tasks as Kagome would let her, still feeling like she wasn’t doing nearly enough to justify her continued support. Whenever she brought up her uncertain questions about the future, Kagome would just dismiss them as airily as dismissed her husband’s activities in the woods. Sango finally let the subject drop, and was surprised at how content she had become to do so.

After sampling Kagome’s rather bad attempt at making breakfast, Sango had shyly asked Inuyasha for a few instructions on how to use the large heating unit. She had proved to be a fair hand at it. Nothing compared to Inuyasha, of course, but at least she didn’t burn stuff into char the way Kagome did.

Kagome had happily relinquished kitchen duty to her, as well as the heavy cleaning of the cabin’s stone floors and manual sanitary unit. Kagome insisted on doing the laundry, though, saying she had to do at least SOME of the work herself. They had both fallen into an easy pattern of chore and leisure, both content with the quiet simplicity of their life in the isolated wilderness of Kyouko’s northern continent. Kagome would sometimes join her husband for a trip to Agariba, always asking if Sango wanted to come along. Sango would softly decline, not wishing to intrude on their privacy, and unwilling to admit that she did not want to see a certain ookami who now spent more time in the port-city than anywhere else. Kagome, sensitive to Sango’s moods ever since the night of Kouga’s reception, would not argue, though she often looked just a little wistful and sad before hugging her friend in farewell.

Strange as it was to have the cabin empty and to herself, Sango sometimes felt relief for the silence. It was often during those times that she would take time to go and wander deep into the woods, though she was more careful after Inuyasha’s growled warnings about the possibility of danger, mainly from wild predators.

The nights had grown colder, and the late summer had started to recede. The green leaves had started to change into a wealth of colors, from mellow gold to brilliant scarlet and rusty orange. Although she was cautious, Sango could not stay away from the forest for long. It called to her, giving her a strange peace as she walked and watched the wilds in lonely fascination.

Kouga would often come and fetch Inuyasha in his sleek little skimmer, going to Yoro for up to a week at a time. Kagome, missing him, had once said that she wished he didn’t have so much confounded business to take care of, but the work didn’t stop just because she wished it would. On those occasions, Kagome would often bury herself inside the library, leaving Sango free to wander the woods that she could not leave for long.

Before leaving on one of his various trips to the orbital station Yoro, Inuyasha had taken Sango aside and given her a knife, telling her he was concerned for her safety and how often she was out alone in the forest. Sango had been surprised; she had not realized Inuyasha had taken such notice of her absence when he, himself, was gone. But Inuyasha had pressed the blade into her hand, muttering that it had actually been Kouga’s damn idea.

Sango had gingerly taken the knife, and she always remembered to belt it on, feeling strangely comforted by its weight at her side, before wandering away from the cabin. As she sat one day under a thick-leafed elm, idly watching the small furry creatures scamper after fallen nuts on the ground, she stirred as a muscle cramped in her back, and the little animals vanished, not to return before she departed (as she knew full well, having tried to wait them out once before.)

She should really get up and head back to the cabin, but the sun was out, peeping golden warmth into the shadows, and she was loathed to move. So, instead, she pulled out the dagger and played with it, testing the perfect weight and balance in her hands, careful not to touch the sharp Argurien steel edges of the keen blade.

Something stirred deep in her memory, and Sango’s brow furrowed in concentration. She often tried to forget about her hazy past, there was too much pain and darkness for her to really want to remember parts of it. But she still had so many unanswered questions…like where had she originally come from? She knew she had always lived in space, in the sterile, metal environment of stations and ships, but which particular station had she been born on? She remembered her father, a stern man, but could not remember his name. And of her mother, she had not even a breath of memory, and knew somehow that THAT one was forever denied her…

Though hadn’t Kohaku, her little brother, been young enough from her in years so that she might remember their mother? For she was certain that they both had come from the same source (crass as the word sounded, it also seemed to fit her sparse knowledge, and just felt right as a definition.)

Her palm curved over the dagger’s hilt with easy familiarity. Often the body remembered things the mind could not, or so the psy-medics on Station Nine had told her. Sango wondered what tactile memory her fingers could retain that she could not. She turned the knife over in her right hand, until her wrist curved back, the sharp point at an odd angle. Something stirred, and with a practiced move that surprised her no end, she flicked her wrist, and let the dagger fly.

It landed in the tree bole some distance ahead of her with a loud thud on impact, and Sango’s mouth fell open in shock. She was up on her feet before she knew what she was doing, and pulling the dagger free of the wood. The blade was hardly dulled---Argurien steel was one of the strongest metals known in the galaxy, and could hold an edge longer than other metals or ordinary steel.

The metal gleamed silver-blue in the sunlight, and feeling almost dreamlike and surreal, Sango stepped back further to repeat the maneuver from a standing height. Biting her lip, she took aim and snapped her wrist forward, letting the knife fly once more.

The dagger hit the tree trunk, only a few inches off target. Sango knew with some distraction that her aim would improve with practice. And within a few tries, it did---to the point where she only had to decide on a specific spot, and her arm and wrist would follow the direction with deadly and automatic accuracy.

Sango suddenly felt very foolish. What was she doing, throwing her knife at trees? But it just felt so RIGHT to her, as if she was doing something that had been bred deep into her bones…

And that thought chilled her more than anything.

She almost wanted to throw the sharp blade away from her, and she had even drawn her arm back to do so, when an odd noise caught her attention. A noise that did not belong in the natural world around her, but more to the technological one she had left behind.

Looking up, she noticed that the sun had disappeared behind thickening clouds. The forest suddenly seemed eerily quiet. The reaching limbs of the surrounding elms hid much of the sky, but the thrumming noise of descending engines was growing distinctly louder. It was a harsher sound then the smooth hum of Kouga’s silver skimmer, and coming closer.

Perhaps the skimmer was being serviced, or Inuyasha had finally relented and purchased his own small flyer. Either way, it was getting late, and Sango didn’t want to face one of Inuyasha’s bad moods if he had to come looking for her because Kagome had grown worried.

Turning her way home, Sango absently sheathed the dagger, feeling oddly comforted by its presence by her side.

*~*~*~*~*

Kagome looked up as she heard the faint but distinctive noise of an incoming ship’s reverse thrusters. It seemed different, somehow, from the usual low level of the skimmer’s smooth engines, but she dismissed it as unimportant. Carefully marking her place in the book she had been reading, she yawned and stretched, a happy little smile curving across her lips.

Inuyasha would be home soon, a day earlier than expected, but she was delighted that he had been able to wrap up his business early and surprise her. She hated sleeping in that giant bed all alone…

She jumped up as she heard the clanking impact of the ship landing. It had come in faster than the level of noise had indicated. Running through the house, Kagome’s fingers fumbled over the locking mechanism on the front door. Grumbling under her breath, she finally slid the archaic bolt free and shoved the heavy door aside. She dashed out of the house, breathless and smiling in happy welcome…

To have her smile fade as she realized with a sinking feeling that the black-haired youkai who confronted her at the ship’s open hatch was NOT Kouga, and the impassive youkai at the woman’s shoulder was NOT her hanyou mate.

There was a look in the cold woman’s red eyes that had Kagome stepping back involuntarily, her fingers curling into fists to stop their trembling reaction. The youkai was as oddly out of place in the forested wilderness as her darling barbarian of a hanyou would be at a tea party. Clad in an elegantly expensive robe of rare silk in multiple layers and patterns of alternating navy and maroon, with---of all things---feathers threaded through the complicated arrangement of her black hair. Expensive jade earrings dangled from her pointed youkai ears, and the female oozed every ounce of youkai haughtiness, assured of her place and supremacy in the universe.

“You are not Sango Jennar.” The youkai’s voice was flat and cold, a statement of undeniable fact, not question.

Kagome’s spine stiffened. Suddenly, her fear of the lady was gone, and she took a belligerent stance, even crossing her arms in an echo of her mate at his most irritating. She even managed to demand, brown eyes flashing, “And just who are you?”

“That is no concern of yours, ningen.” The youkai’s glance was contemptuous.

“Excuse me?” Kagome was furious. How dare some crazy youkai come skipping down here, tell her she WASN’T somebody she had no business seeking, and then tell her that it was none of her business! Kagome was right on the point of giving this supercilious woman a good piece of her mind when there was a rustle from the trees to the left of them, and Sango emerged while incongruously brushing the browned leaves from her hair.

Kagome felt a chilling stab of fear, for the formidable woman had turned her bloody gaze on her friend. Kagome wished suddenly that Sango had stayed hidden in the woods. There was nothing good that could come of this high-and-mighty’s interest in her friend.

“You are Sango Jennar.” The youkai said in that same unemotional voice as before, and reached for something inside her robes.

Sango blinked at the scene, but had sense enough to take a wary step back. Her experience with youkai had left her with more than a faint sense of unease, and her words to Kouga on that long ago night came suddenly back to haunt her in the lady’s soft voice.

“Taijiya, I have been avenged.”

With that flat pronouncement, the woman held something up in her hand that flashed once, and Kagome’s scream was ripped from her throat as Sango’s body swayed and then slowly crumpled to the leaf-ridden ground at her feet.


*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Mwa-ha-ha! A cliffie! I am fond of those. XP Sorry this one was so short, but the next chapter is being written now, so it won’t be so long a wait. Just a quick note to thank all of the reviewers who have left such inspirational messages. It spurred me on to continue this little endeavor. Thank you so very much! ~ Fate