Chapter Text
There was a willow tree that kept Izayoi company.
It stood deep within the forest, hidden beyond the trickling streams and the dying orchards on the outskirts of the village, looming at the end of a lonely path that let out onto a frost frozen lake. There it towered, dwarfing the forest canopy with its height and shading the world from all light with it’s long, swaying boughs. Within the confines of its veil of leaves the seasons had no effect. Winter had come to the world; the pine trees were bare and the ground was hard, but within the willow’s embrace there was soft green grass. Little white flower buds bloomed along the edge of a tiny pond that was hidden inside, separate from the lake itself, which harbored a lonely silver koi fish that swam within its crystal waters.
It was an otherworldly place, but it was warm and peaceful, and it was the only kindness Izayoi knew. So it was here she ran—here where she spent her most private moments, escaping her village to find some comfort out in the winter wilds. There was no warmth to be found at home. No love, no kindness. Peace had been forgotten. Her husband had succumb to an obsession with war and bloodshed, which left him alone at the bottom of a bottle more often than not. Drunkenness was his comfort, not her. What little attention he gave her was due to the the alcohol, but it was attention made of generous fists and a loose tongue.
It was an attention she could only suffer for so long.
Now, sitting beneath the grey-green veil of the willow’s protective embrace, Izayoi wondered if she could suffer life much longer.
Once, the world had been kind. Her family had been noble, their house had been respected, and they’d had land and men at an excess. The most important thing on her mind had been her future: her marriage, children, and legacy; the sort of thing most noblewomen fretted themselves over. In those days, Takemaru had been respectable. Her suitor had been a young, ambitious, and talented samurai, adept with a bow and deadly with a blade, who’d wanted nothing more than to excel at his trade and negotiate a fruitful marriage. He’d treated her like a queen, then. Honored her wishes, respected her words.
But then war had come to her house and it had fallen, until all that was left was her tattered name, her husband, and her womb.
Her barren, bleeding womb.
To his credit, Takemaru had tried. With whatever they’d had left in their coffers, he’d tried to regain what was lost—what was his, by marriage and law, and what was meant to be his future. His house, his home. His legacy. Throughout the entirety of one terrible summer he’d tried to persuade enough allies to his side to overcome their enemies, but winter had come too swiftly. With it came the snows, and with the snows came a premature frost. Crops died and villages froze, and when food became sparse, so too did their numbers.
So now they lived with his mother without an ally in sight, taking shelter in a house that’d been built by his late father. A rattling cough had taken his mother and Izayoi could see that death was inevitable, looming over them like a dark cloud. There, on the outskirts of a city that did not care for them, Takemaru was surrounded by his failures. By the remnants of what should have been a great family. Then, Izayoi had tried to consider that hardship when she’d considered how badly her face was bruised.
But no woman could bear that weight forever.
It was these things that she thought about as she traced her fingernail over the still surface of the pond, watching the ripples extend from her touch. She was laying on her back, dark hair fanned out beneath her as her wrist floated listlessly above the water. Beneath it, the silver koi swam in its quiet circuit, nibbling on plant life and tiny things in its habitat.
She liked to tell herself that the fish was a moon spirit. That it was watching over her and welcoming her to this silent refuge.
But that wasn’t true.
There was no true refuge here. This was no sanctuary. This was an unnatural tree deep in the forest that was said to belong to a daiyokai, and it was only a matter of time before her peace ended and her sanctuary was destroyed. She would be discovered by some unkind creature, no doubt, who was as hungry or starved as she, and that wasn’t a fight she could win.
Or worse, she considered, and that made her wrinkle her nose. Though she supposed she didn’t have much to fear in the ways of assault from yokai or spirits—their avenues were far more permanent—but there was the off chance that rogue bandits could stumble across her. Not that it mattered, really; were she so unlucky, they’d be likely to kill her afterwards, and at least there was comfort in the idea of death. There, she could sleep. Her stomach wouldn’t growl, her body wouldn’t betray her, and her mind could go silent. There would be peace.
There would be quiet.
But quiet was not in her fates, tonight.
“How many times have I told you not to come here?” asked Fate, and Izayoi closed her eyes and sighed. She shrugged and didn’t look up at him, letting her finger continue to drift idly over the water.
“How many times have I told you that I’m not afraid?” she countered, and Fate—the daiyokai of this forest—must have rolled his eyes at her.
“You should be.”
He was called the Inu no Taisho. The rumors that a daiyokai owned these forests were true; he was a real, tangible being, who’d come across Izayoi not so long ago. He didn’t want her here, he said. It was dangerous and she was unwelcome, no matter how safe this forest seemed.
But she didn’t care.
If he wanted her gone so badly, he could make her go, she thought. He was more than capable of doing it and she stood no chance against him. But yet as fearsome as he was, as terrible and cruel and strong as he might be, he hadn’t lifted a finger to force her out. He was all words and nothing more.
So Izayoi remained.
She came and went throughout the seasons. She suffered life and visited her sanctuary with a dangerous lack of regard for consequences, desperate to find those little moments of peace despite the daiyokai’s warnings against it. She fed flecks of dry food to the koi fish in the spring and scavenged fruits for herself in the summer and fall. The tree and its lake remained ever the same. The Inu no Taisho flit about her—threatening her at times or forcing her to endure his company, demanding that she tell him about the struggles she faced.
And with every struggle she divulged, his insistence on seeing her gone began to wane.
Izayoi learned what she could about him. By word of mouth, she’d heard that the “silver spirit” of the forest was a cruel, brash being, who conquered everyone in his path and kept an iron grip on his territories and vassals. He was young among his peers and obscenely powerful besides, carrying a weight with his name that outclassed countless creatures that were centuries his senior. From his mouth, she knew he was inuyokai—that he claimed dominion over all the woods and forests in the area, and that his territory spread as far as the coastal villages where she lived. His private lands were not so far from the willow tree, in fact—close enough that he took offense to her constant invasion, because she was visiting without invitation.
He couldn’t have a human too close to home, after all.
Fall came, and with it came a curious lack of monthly blood. It was a cruel reminder of her failures, Izayoi thought, because when her husband touched her at all it always ended in disappointment. So she ignored it. She ignored the swelling of her thin frame as the golden leaves fell from the trees, ignoring even more when the acorns fell and the branches went bare. She couldn't bare the shame of knowing if it all went south. When it all went south.
But one day she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Her belly was round and her hair was thin, and besides that, her husband had taken notice. Takemaru had smiled and embraced her, just as he had when they’d first become one. He’d said that he loved her. He’d let himself hope and, foolishly, she’d let herself hope with him.
But when winter came again, it came with blood.
It was not the first time Izayoi had lost a pregnancy, but it was the first time she had lost a baby, and it destroyed her. All that she could possibly hope for in this world was a child to care for—a family to raise, despite all odds, and a light to foster in this bleak world. Her body had failed her time and time again, but this time it almost hadn’t. She’d almost had her dream.
Stupid, she called herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was stupid to hope—to dream. To think she was good enough to be a mother, and stupider still to think that Takemaru would forgive another failure.
It was after his discovery of the bloody sheets that she fled.
Tears burned in her eyes as her bare feet carried her through the wilds, rocks cutting into her soles and dirt sticking to her skin. She was bloody and tattered by the time she reached the willow tree—and cold, so cold—and it was there she collapsed. Beneath its weeping shroud she fell apart, a heap of wracking sobs and white-hot tears.
In the pond beside her, the koi fish made a lazy circuit to the sound of her sorrow.
At the end of it all, Izayoi wanted to die. She wanted to close her eyes beneath these swaying branches and never wake again, succumbing to the world. What was she if she wasn’t a beloved wife? A mother? A noblewoman? What was she but a waste of space and food, hiding in forests and cleaning dusty corners? What good was she? What purpose did she serve? All she could do was run; from her husband, from her life, from the village. What reason was there to—
“Izayoi?”
Fate returned and the sobs came anew. Desperate and numb all at once, Izayoi’s hand fell to the leather boot beside her head and clung to it, hoping the universe would show her mercy.
“Inu no Taisho,” she begged. Above her, willow leaves ruffled in the breeze and stars peeked between the branches, watching the Inu no Taisho look down on his wayward trespasser. He shone brilliantly in the rays of silver moonlight, beautiful and ethereal, and if she’d had the bravery to look upon him, she would've basked in his radiance. “Please—please, I can't—I don't want to—not by myself—please, just please.”
What went on his mind, she couldn’t possibly imagine. She didn’t want to know what he thought of her or how he saw her. She just hugged his ankle and prayed—knowing she was pathetic, that she was worthless and weak—and waited, hoping he was kinder than this cruel world. That he would give her what he wanted.
And he did, in his way.
“Please, what?” the Inu no Taisho asked. He pulled his foot away from her and crouched down, studying her like an animal. She couldn’t bear to look up at him.
"I want to die," she confessed. It was so soft she barely heard her own voice, so small and weak that it sounded like someone else. But he would hear it, loud and clear."
"Over him?"
No, not for him. For me, for me, for me, she wanted to say, but her voice was gone. All she could do was shake her head, hating herself as she stared at the dirty ground. She was black and blue and awful on the inside, her soul as heavy as a rolling tide.
This was what she deserved. Death by daiyokai. Death by pain and blood and—
"And you want me to do it? To take your life?"
All she could do was nod. There was no honor in this, she knew, but honor had been lost a long time ago.
“All right.”
The world stopped spinning. Her lungs ceased to function, all the air leaving her body in one fell swoop.
He said yes.
He said yes.
“I’ll take your life.”
She had no time to say a thing before his claws found her hair. Before he pulled her face off the ground and forced her to look at him—to look at the willow tree and the veiled sky, which twinkled so quietly above their heads.
It was so peaceful, she thought. So very peaceful. And he was so beautiful.
Thank you, she wanted to say, but her lips were cracked and her tongue was dry. It was as if her voice had left her body before her soul had had the chance. So she just waited in his hold, looking at the world all around them. Thinking about everything and nothing all at once; wondering if there really was peace beyond the borders of this life.
Because whatever was waiting for her, it had to be better than this.
Chapter Text
The willow tree continued to keep Izayoi company long after the Inu no Taisho had taken her life.
The path to reach it was no longer long and winding. It was short and pleasant, making for a quick stroll through a forest where no enemy dared to tread. It stood tall and serene in its clearing, waiting for her as every passing day rolled by, never changing in the face of weather or war. The koi fish in its pond never aged—never wilted or wandered, always there to eat her treats and listen to her stories.
Izayoi wondered if someone else would’ve taken refuge here if she hadn’t remained.
Today she sat beneath its boughs on the first warm day of Spring, two years after the night where Toga had taken her life. She wore fine silks and finer jewelry, each layer spilling resplendently around her in a shining pastel pool of color. It was not where she wanted to be. Not where she’d expected to be. But it was where she needed to be, because there was nowhere else to go.
The Inu no Taisho had taken her life.
He had taken her life as his.
Death had not found her beneath that twinkling night sky. Ownership had found her—the Inu no Taisho, in his infinite egotism, had twisted her words and claimed her life as something to be owned.
“I’ll take your life as my own,” he’d said, forcing her eyes to his. “To live, until your mind is clear enough to decide if you truly want to die.”
What other choice had she had?
So she’d remained. She’d relinquished her freedom of choice at his behest, all because she couldn’t find the motivation to offer up any rebellion. She didn’t know how to, anymore. The Inu no Taisho took her because she let him, and he took her because he wanted to.
The castle he took her to afterward was not so far from where they’d been. It was a sprawling complex spread across woods and lakelands that were surrounded by tall stone walls, each little palace within seeming so ostentatious that even the richest of lords would balk at its craftsmanship. He took her to one on a lakeshore and there she was bathed and attended to by strange-looking servants, all her wounds treated and her bruises soothed until she was so warm and numb that she went limp with exhaustion. They put her to bed in a comatose state that she wouldn’t leave for days.
Since that day, life had been a slow uphill climb.
The Inu no Taisho—Toga, she later learned—ruled her with a steady hand. He did not impose on her, nor did he punish her cruelly for her misdeeds, but it was understood that he was to be obeyed without question. When food was placed before her, she ate. When clothes were presented to her, she dressed in them. When he ordered something, she obeyed. When he summoned her, she came.
And in all that, she learned that she could trust him—that, at the very least, his rulings were fair, and that she had no cause to fear him.
It was a simple existence, but it took her far too long to realize how much freedom there was in simplicity. Toga was not outwardly complex. He rewarded loyalty and obedience from his subordinates, and if she wanted something, all she had to do was ask.
That first ask came on an inconsequential night. One of the few things Toga consistently asked her to do was to share dinner with him, and there was rarely a night she wasn’t expected to join him. So long as he wasn’t away from the castle, they ate together on a private balcony that overlooked the lake outside his palace, whether he felt like eating or not. He liked the company of beautiful women, he said, and Izayoi believed that much was true even if she didn’t believe herself to be beautiful.
“You played the koto?” he inquired, interrupting her story. Izayoi came up short for only a second, blinking as she folded her hands in her lap. Her plate was half finished, which meant their conversation was half-done.
“I did, Toga-dono.”
“Would it please you to have one now?”
In response to her blinking surprise, Toga simply chuckled and took a sip of his sake. In the summer evenings he only ever wore a thin yukata, which hung open around his chest to let in the breeze, giving a small glimpse at the chiseled body beneath. Izayoi had trained herself not to look.
“You only need to ask, Izayoi. I’ll provide whatever you desire.”
What was his was cared for, he always said, and she was his. There was no other reason.
And for a time, they both believed that lie.
Now, sitting beneath the willow tree, Izayoi plucked the strings of that very koto and considered her new life. Her world was less narrow, now—less weighted down with her sorrows and pain. Everything felt easier to endure. She still found it difficult to live sometimes, because even as Toga’s pet her future seemed very bleak, but it was easier to see sunrise through to sunset. Everything was just easier.
Like the strings of her song, she plucked away at her life.
Things continued on. Eventually, a cold breeze took summer away and brought in the chill of autumn, and Izayoi began to test the boundaries of her new life. She asked for things and found herself pleasantly surprised to receive them. She sought out Toga on her own when she was bored, even if all she could do was be bored in his presence. She asked him questions. She spoke to him and learned about his world, flitting around on the peripheries of his life until one day, he looked at her and said:
“Come to court with me.”
It was the beginning of the end.
Chapter Text
Court was droll and dreary and boring, but that came as no surprise to the daughter of a nobleman. She was used to the tedious nature of it, familiar with the boasts and brags of overconfident men, the tittering of their women, and the showmanship of their young sons trying to make a reputation for themselves. It was a song and dance she knew well from having sat on in her father’s court for years, entertaining friends and suitors alike, and it was a place she’d never expected to find herself again. And she hadn’t found one, really; she’d found herself on the sidelines of one, having no place in a court of yokai.
But she suspected that she was here purely because she was out of place, because that seemed like a thing that Toga would enjoy doing.
Thrice a week Toga took to his throne to see visitors, underlings, and vassals, obligated to take the time to listen to their woes and settle their disputes as their lord. In the past, these were audiences Izayoi had never been allowed to attend. She was inconsequential in the scheme of Toga’s rule, usually creating more of a fuss among his peers than she was worth, and she had no interest in making herself seen.
But the more they complained, the more Toga seemed to want to bring her to the light.
So here she was. Dressed in the finest clothes Toga could commission, Izayoi sat or knelt at the foot of his throne, decorating the short stairs of his dais that kept his head higher than those who stood before him. She appeared as a paragon of beauty, her face painted to perfection and her clothes flowing down her body, silk pooling in resplendent colors all around her in many layers of embroidered red, gold, white, and black. She didn’t dress as a lady would; she dressed as she pleased, using whatever clothes she was given, and often wore her layers loosely around her shoulders so her neck could be seen. She wasn’t a fool; she knew that Toga liked looking. All men did. But that he could look kept him happy, and that kept him suggestable. Lenient. He didn’t like her leaving the palace, but with a bat of her eyelashes and a smile, she’d learned she could convince him to go with her for a walk beyond its borders. She could convince him to do anything, really. What was given was taken in equal strides, and she was constantly exchanging affection for favors and leniency.
She didn’t love him, but she was fond of him. Fond enough to let him touch her, to let him put her head in his lap and run his fingers through his hair, all because he was kind and she was lonely.
It didn’t bother her that he seemed fond of her, too.
The throne itself was a gift from an ally who lived on the Continent, carved of painted red wood in the shape of a snarling dragon, whose tail twisted around one armrest and curved around and over the back. Its head rest on the opposite side, frozen in an eternal snarl beneath Toga’s deadly claws with eyes inlaid with glimmering gems. It was an ostentatious display of wealth that did its job well, supporting the Inu no Taisho as he did his very best not to bore himself to death in front of blubbering underlings.
Izayoi tried not to fall asleep as she rested her head on his knee, letting him fidget with silken strands of her hair.
But when she did dream, she dreamed of the willow tree.
Chapter Text
One morning, at the end of a long week where Toga had been away to battle, Izayoi sat beneath the willow tree and tossed dry scraps of food to the koi fish that swam within the pond. Fall was beginning to wane and the chill of winter sometimes came in the night, but within the embrace of the willow’s leafy veil, Izayoi kept warm. She’d brought and set out a small tea tray with a pot and cups for herself, a blank scroll rolled out next to a stone inkwell beside it. She’d been taken with art, recently. It kept her mind busy when Toga was away.
The silver koi fish—which Izayoi had named Hikari—nibbled on the last of the treats that had been tossed into the pond as Izayoi brushed her hands off, pulling her outer winter layer tighter to her chest. Reaching out and cradling her warm cup in both hands, she took a sip, trying not to think too much. Toga wasn’t usually gone this long. He’d said he’d be away longer than normal, but that didn’t calm her nerves any. It only made her more restless as every day went by.
Just come home.
There was no doubt that her life was strange and unusual, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t found comfort in it. The last thing she needed was for her protector and keeper to suddenly perish in battle. Where would she go? What would she do?
Who would she talk to on long summer days and lonely winter nights?
Setting her glass down, Izayoi looked distantly at her blank canvas and sighed, shuffling over to the short table on her knees and picking up her brush. She needed to distract herself. He would come home just like he always did, and then she’d be wishing him away again when he got on her nerves.
Time stretched in a long, peaceful silence as she began to paint a scene of a weeping willow tree draped over the edge of a cloudy cliff, the moon shining high above it against a sparkling sky. Her brushed moved in a steady sweep over her scroll, trailing scenes of thin grey and deep black across the landscape in her mind. It was peaceful. It was kind. It was ethereal and otherworldly in a way she couldn’t quite place, because there was nothing there that made it unnatural. It was just rare to see so many perfect things fit together so neatly, the earth reaching out to the sky in harmony despite the great distance between them.
“—You’ve grown more proficient,” said a voice right next to her ear, and Izayoi nearly knocked her inkwell straight into her lap when she startled. But slender, claw-tipped fingers caught it in its fall, holding it above her lap as a warm body leaned over her shoulder.
Izayoi’s cheeks flared red hot as she looked up and saw her Keeper, who smirked down at her from above.
“Well, hello to you, too,” said the Inu no Taisho. He set her inkwell safely back down where it belonged and pulled away from her—always teasing, always closing the distance between them—and swept over to the other side of the table, taking a seat without invitation.
“Toga-dono,” Izayoi managed, trying to catch up with her racing heart. He looked battle weary. His hair was slicked back and muddied, his cheeks smeared with dirt in the same strokes as his indigo markings, and his armor and clothes were a terrible mess, spattered with blood and broken in some places. Izayoi’s heart jumped into her throat, but he was waving his hand in dismissal before she could say a word.
“I’m fine,” he said. He looked pointedly at the pot of tea and she reacted without thought, reaching out to pour him a drink in the spare cup she’d brought along. Just in case. “But surprised to see you outside the castle gates.”
“There’s—well, Aiko-chan encouraged me,” she said quickly, watching her work until she sat back down on her heels and folded her hands in her lap. Toga brought the cup up to his lips, listening to her. “Daisuke-sama is nearby.”
Daisuke was her personal guard; the son of Toga’s Captain of the Guard. Aiko was her sole handmaiden and confidant, who respected Toga about as much as a rebellious student respected their teacher: a healthy amount, but not enough to kill their spirit.
“I know.”
Of course he did.
“Are you sure you’re all right, my Lord? You’re—”
“I was on my way back when I noticed you nearby,” he interrupted, setting his cup down. “It’s only right of me to escort you home, is it not?”
She did her very best not to blush. Toga was very overt in his attraction to her, but that was only because she was very forward with her affection towards him. It wasn’t unusual for her to join him in his study and sit on his lap to bat her eyelashes at him to get what she wanted—it was a tactic he was vulnerable to, and effective besides. Propriety was a bygone standard. Toga encouraged nothing but for her to be true to herself, and being true to herself meant doing what she wanted to do instead of what society desired.
And what she wanted was to be loved. Cared for. She wanted cold and sorrow to be distant strangers to her, and Toga was willing to give her the attention she wanted in exchange for her beauty, company, and comfort.
“Shall I gather my things?” she asked softly. Toga shook his head.
“Finish. I’ve nowhere to be.”
Izayoi nodded. She was used to being watched by him, now. He would watch her paint and listen to her play instruments at his leisure, finding some sort of entertainment or sense of calm in her presence. That sort of attention from anyone else would likely unsettle her, but from him it felt natural.
Perhaps it was because she took comfort in his presence, too.
But she made quick work of what she had been doing, not finishing the painting in its entirety before moving to pack her things. Toga needed to return home. He didn’t need to be out here covered in filth and other people’s blood—he needed a wash and a warm bath.
“Leave it,” he ordered gently. “I’ll have it collected. No need to haul it back.”
Izayoi nodded, not arguing. She only rolled up her dried scroll and tucked it away in the layers of her kimono as she stood, not wanting to trust that to whichever poor soul got sent out into the growing cold to gather her things.
“Let’s go back,” she said gently, watching him stand. His armor creaked, but he was unphased by it, simply nodding when she took his forearm in her hands and kept to his side. She didn’t care that he was filthy. “I can draw you a bath when we get back. Play some music, have some food brought in. I assume you won whatever fight you got yourself into?”
He scoffed at the implication that there could be any other outcome and she smiled at his arrogance. He was egotistical, yes, but at least he had good reason to be.
“Then maybe something to drink to congratulate,” she proposed. Toga nodded.
“As you wish.”
Chapter Text
Toga’s personal palace was situated on the edge of a pristine lake. It was a three-tiered building fitted with sloping roofs and long engawa that bordered its perimeter, the foundation of the mansion situated half on land and half on water. Autumn had swept across the grounds in a fiery inferno of yellow, gold, and orange, the trees changing their colors with the season as they leaned over the lakefront. This was the scene that greeted Toga and Izayoi as they returned home, and it was this very scene that would stay with them as he lifted his ward into his arms and leapt up onto his second-story balcony from the ground.
Izayoi clung to him until his feet were back on the ground, forever afraid of heights—and his uncanny ability of flight. He laughed at her and she shushed him, pouting and playfully pushing him towards his doors.
In the privacy of his rooms, Izayoi helped Toga shrug out of his armor. It was a dance of leaning and bending to accommodate for their differing heights, but it was easier than him trying to get out of it himself. Soon enough he was free and Izayoi had stacked all the pieces outside his bedroom door, left there for a servant to fetch and deliver to the armorer later when they were gone. From there she left him to descend to the lower levels, hurrying down the stairs to prepare the small bath house for him while he changed out of his ruined clothes. She laid out all the accessories and bottles he needed to bathe after hurrying Aiko to collect food and drink for them, sweeping fallen leaves off the stone floor to pass the time in between. The bathhouse was akin to a private onsen: exposed to the elements and covered by a half-awning that sloped down off the main building, it was a quiet reprieve built around a small bubbling hot spring for the lord of the house to enjoy.
By the time he finally arrived, Izayoi was well-prepared. Food and drink had been laid out for him along the water’s edge and she’d situated her koto nearby, comfortably positioned in the shade so she could play for him once he was washed. He came out from the washrooms in a towel and nothing else, having scrubbed away all the dirt and grime and blood from his body and hair so he wouldn’t soil the spring’s waters.
Izayoi kept her eyes on his face and averted her gaze when he winked at her, trying not to give him any satisfaction.
For a lord his age, he was still considered young. His lessers called him brash, selfish, and reckless despite his power over them, and Izayoi had learned with time that his disposition in front of others was purposefully kept neutral and emotionless. With her, he’d become playful and honest—and still selfish—but in general, he was quiet and kept to himself, often quick to anger and easy to provoke. The best way to describe him was hungry, she thought: forever chasing power, respect, and control, not caring what lives he devoured along the way on his path of conquest, and always ready to consume whatever was offered to him. In the same way he met challengers and threats with eagerness, he returned her affection in kind.
What was there to have was his to take, she supposed. But underneath the hardened exterior or a warlord she knew there was a young man existing within, hungry to learn everything his long life had to give him.
When he was in the water, she began to pluck at her instrument with care, playing the songs she knew he was fond of as he relaxed in the warm water. It wasn’t long before she saw the environment win out over him; his shoulders relaxed and his head tipped back against the edge of the spring, the water level reaching his chest and soothing every ache and pain. He lazily picked at the selection of food left out for him and closed his eyes, just listening.
So she kept playing.
Time stretched on. Like the sweep of a paintbrush, the passing moments dragged long and smooth behind the path of the sun, stretching cleanly between them. One song transitioned into the next, into the next and the next, until she was playing compositions of her own making. Leaves drifted down from the trees above, littering their scene with orange and gold.
It was perfect.
At the end of her song, the silence was broken.
“So, Songbird...” Toga said, in way of starting a conversation. Izayoi put her instruments down and folded her hands in her lap, listening to him. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
A red leaf drifted down from the trees, falling in the water next to Toga. He stretched his arm back along the edge of the spring, wrist loose and fingers dripping down to scrape the surface of the water. He flicked the leaf’s stem with his claw and it spun in a calm little circle at his guidance, entrancing him.
“Dying.”
Chapter Text
Dying, it turned out, no longer called to her. Not in the same way.
“Tell me, Izayoi,” he asked her. “What is it you desire in this life?”
They were no longer at the spring. They were in his rooms some hours later, standing on the balcony underneath the twinkling stars. The moonlight swam between those pinpoints of light, shimmering against the sea of the black sky. They shared sake and enjoyed the night, watching the dark surface of the lake reflect the stars.
She leaned against the banister and considered his question.
“...Warmth, I suppose. Safety.” She sighed.. “I wanted children, once. A happy husband and a family. But there’s no use hoping for that, any more.”
“Why?”
Toga stood beside her, back to the lake and hip against the rail of the baister that Izayoi leaned forward against. His hair was loose, spilling down his shoulders in skeins of silver over a loose nighttime yukata. The cold of the coming winter didn’t seem to bother him.
“You won’t let me marry, will you?” she challenged.
Predictably, he shook his head. “No.”
She wasn’t angry. She didn’t even particularly want to marry again; her life here was too safe. Too comfortable. Why would she throw it away for a man she didn’t know?
“But,” he continued, tilting his head. “That doesn’t leave you without options.”
“I’ve lost every baby I’ve tried to have, Toga, I—” She stopped short, registering what he’d said and what he was implying. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a lord without a wife or concubine in sight. I’ve prospects, but no promises.”
Her fingers curled tighter around her saucer of alcohol, cheeks and ears tingling with warmth. He couldn’t be serious.
But what if he was?
“And?”
“And you are welcome at my side, if you so wish. Officially,” he added. “You're already mine, after all.”
Already his. Except in the ways that really mattered to men.
She looked down at her drink and considered his words, tracing the rim of her saucer with one delicate finger. It made her think of Hikari, swimming endlessly in her little pond. Safe. Warm. Secure.
But trapped.
“Exactly,” she said softly. “I’m already yours.”
All parts of herself had already been given away. Her life, her love, her virginity. What else did she have to give him but company? Affection?
Maybe that was all he wanted, though.
“I can’t have children,” she said. Toga shrugged.
“You’re only half-certain of that.”
“They wouldn’t be like you.”
“No child is completely like their father.”
That had a certain tone to it that Izayoi could not place, but it warned her off of talking more about children and their fathers. She tried again.
“I’ll grow old,” she reminded him. “I’ll die.”
“Nothing is beautiful without also being fragile.”
Toga turned to her, reaching out to cradle her cheek. She didn’t flinch away as she had in the past; she leaned into his palm, sighing softly. She was conflicted.
“Why?” she asked. “Why marry me? I’m only human. I—”
“Being human is what makes you fascinating.”
That brought her up short. Looking at him, Izayoi felt her breathing grow shallow. He was as ethereal as ever, shining silver underneath the moonlight. He was kind. He was warm. He was…
Hers?
“You intrigue me, Izayoi. Every part of you. What comes so naturally to you puzzles me. The depths of your sorrow and the heights of your happiness… all things I don’t understand. All things I cherish. All thing that I desire to protect.” His thumb smoothed over her cheekbone before his hand drifted away from her. She felt cold in its absence. “There is nothing I want for you but your happiness. What you ask for, I will give. Always.”
“I don’t want you to marry me just because I want—”
“And if what you want aligns with my desires, then all the better, I say.”
The world stopped, slowed. Izayoi’s heart thundered in her ears.
He wasn’t demanding that she give herself over to him.
He was offering himself to her.
“Toga,” was all she could say, any semblance of formality drowned out by her emotion.
She had given him her life.
Now he was giving her his.
Chapter Text
Two years after that terrible night when Izayoi had surrendered her life, she sat beneath her weeping willow with Toga and giggled like a child.
Between them, their unexpected little baby lay on a spread of red fabric, grasping for a tiny flower that Izayoi held up over him. Hikari kept on swimming her lazy circuit in the pond and Toga leaned back against the tree trunk, chuckling as his son sneezed when he managed to yank the blossom to his nose and get a good sniff. Izayoi laughed and let him snuggle the flower to death, leaning down to tickle his little belly as the petals broke away.
It was spring and life was in bloom all around them.
InuYasha grabbed at her hair and Izayoi struggled to get away, finally freed when Toga intervened and untangled her from the baby’s superhuman grip. The babe only pouted a moment before he was distracted by his own fist, smiling and gnawing on his knuckles as his little legs kicked.
“Sweet boy,” Izayoi crooned. InuYasha squealed and smiled before giving a great yawn, whining softly in a way that told his mother he wanted to be snuggled.
And snuggled he would be.
Izayoi brought him to her chest and coddled him until it was time to feed him at her breast, leaning up against Toga for support as their son nestled against her skin. Toga held her with ease, letting her snuggle up against his strength as she fed their babe from her body.
It was perfect. It was kind.
It was the life she wanted to live, and the life she’d given everything up to find.
“I love you,” she told her baby boy, poking his nose. He smiled against her nipple and then went back to suckling, soothed by her hand rubbing his back and bum. “My little fish.”
He wiggled his butt as though he understood. Toga chuckled.
“A fish and a songbird,” he said, thoughtful. “What a strange menagerie I have.”
“Oh, hush, you,” she whispered, tilting her head up to him. He smirked, smoothing her bangs out of her face with his free hand before planting a kiss on her forehead.
Safe, warm, and loved.
Izayoi leaned against him, closing her eyes. What more could she want than this?
“I love you too, you mongrel.”
He chuckled, shaking his head at the loving insult. She knew he’d get his revenge later.
“As I love you, Izayoi.”
Notes:
I'll probably come back and give this a good edit later, but I hope everyone enjoyed!
And again--Happy Birthday, Mochi!
ari_hawai on Chapter 5 Mon 06 Jan 2025 09:19AM UTC
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Streamsofstoriesandcolour on Chapter 6 Fri 26 Nov 2021 01:35PM UTC
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Streamsofstoriesandcolour on Chapter 7 Fri 26 Nov 2021 01:37PM UTC
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Emar1522 on Chapter 7 Sat 04 Dec 2021 07:55PM UTC
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