Echoes: Makoto III

DISCLAIMER: Inuyasha and all of the characters featured in this fanfic are the property of Takahashi Rumiko, Sunrise, Viz and all other respective copyright owners. I do not lay claim to these characters in any way, shape or form.

Glossary

Tatami (armour) - a type of lightweight portable folding armour worn by samurai and foot soldiers. It was made from small plates of metal sewn to a cloth backing.

Kami - spirits or phenomena that are worshipped in the Shinto religion. They can be elements in nature, animals, creationary forces in the universe or spirits of the revered deceased.

Kata - detailed choreographed sequences of movements practised either solo or in pairs. These were originally teaching and training methods by which successful combat techniques were preserved and passed on.

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Makoto III

Today.

Grandpa roused him at dawn with a smile on his lips and Jatou in his hand. One word was all it took to get Makoto's pulse racing.

It had been six months since Grandpa let him touch Jatou for the first time. Four months since he'd let him swing it. Two months since he'd let him release the catch and send the blades flying.

Today he'd let him test his father's sword.

Onuki-sama's bed was already empty. They found him in the yard outside the forge, a bokken in his hands. No matter the weather, he'd run through his morning exercises without fail. He claimed all that bed rest made him stiff. The lack of action had weakened his arms and dulled his instincts. He couldn't afford to go to rust. Even Ume-sama hadn't been able to keep him from practising as soon as he could swing a sword.

A small crowd had gathered to watch Onuki-sama. Makoto spotted Ichirou perched on the fence at the end of the yard. Aoi stood beside him, a new ribbon in her hair. A couple of Ichirou's friends had joined them, along with one of Aoi's brothers. For once, all of them were silent.

If this was rusty then Makoto could only dream of how sharp Onuki-sama must have been.

The samurai's face was still as a pond. His breath was steady, his stance was sure and his eyes held nothing but concentration. Despite his injury, his movements were smooth as a summer lake. Each technique flowed seamlessly into the next, swift and sure as the river.

Makoto couldn't help but stare.  He wasn't the only one. No one could have missed Aoi's admiring glances. Ichirou certainly didn't. That brought a smirk to Makoto's lips, although Ichirou's glare soon wiped it off again.

Makoto coughed and looked away. Aggravating as he could be, Ichirou was cute. His hair was dark and glossy, his eyes large and grey, his limbs strong and supple. Yet next to Onuki-sama...

Onuki-sama had a wife. A son too. Guilt crept up Makoto's neck and threatened to break out on his face. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd reminded himself of that over the last few weeks. Yet he could never quite resist a glance in Onuki-sama's direction.

"Ready for practice, Makoto?" Grandpa threw him a wink and a bokken of his own.

Makoto caught the bokken and gave him a sheepish grin. He buried himself in his practice before his face could betray even more of his feelings.

Grandpa made him warm up for an hour. He'd also made him wear his old tatami armour. He'd assured him he'd grow into it. Makoto didn't doubt it; he was already tall enough to look Grandpa in the eye. The weight was enough to make him sweat despite the morning's chill. Yet it was a small load to bear for a chance like this.

As the morning wore on, Makoto caught sight of Ichirou sneering at him. There were giggles coming from behind him. Snickering too. Yet as soon as he so much as glanced in their direction, their gazes shifted to Onuki-sama. All except Ichirou's. He'd linger on Makoto for a second, a smirk spreading across his face before he turned away. He'd never looked more punchable.

But that would cost him Jatou.

Makoto fixed his gaze straight ahead and shut them out. He ignored every snicker, every giggle, every sneer. He went through every motion with an exaggerated care, ever wary of Grandpa's caution and Mama's watchful eye. He even managed to keep his eyes off Onuki-sama. Until Grandpa finally returned with a bundle tucked under his arm.

A target.

It wasn't much to look at, just a wad of rice straw wrapped around a stick of bamboo. Yet Grandpa assured him the straw was thick as flesh, the bamboo as hard as bone. Makoto had cut through more of them than he could count.

But never with Jatou.

With a katana in his hands he could cleave the same target three times without breaking his flow. He could cut through a lump of bamboo thicker than his arm. Even slice a falling leaf in two.

But Jatou wasn't so easy to handle.

The snake sword was unlike any other sword he'd seen. Broad and curved, its blades looked more like leaves than those of any katana. The twelve blades folded seamlessly into one, as if they'd been forged as a whole. When he swung Jatou, the blades sprang from its hilt like the snake they were named for. One swing could bring down half a dozen men, if you believed Grandpa's tales. Most people didn't.

But Jatou was still his favourite.

Makoto slid Jatou from its sheath. The blade's whisper silenced the onlookers. He raised the sword, keeping his eyes locked on his target. Just a little to the-

"Is he going to stand there all day?"

Ichirou's voice brought him back to earth with a thump. He turned to glare at the older boy, only to find his back turned. One of the others whispered something in Ichirou's ear. Aoi gave a nervous giggle. He tightened his grip on Jatou.

"From there?"

"No way..."

Makoto clenched his teeth. Of course Ichirou wasn't going to make this easy for him. He muttered a curse under his breath.

"Ignore them, Makoto." Grandpa placed a hand on his shoulder, nudging him back towards the target. "Why, you must have cut down a thousand of these."

But not with Jatou. Makoto held back a sigh and nodded. He tore his gaze away from Ichirou and focused on the target once more. All he had to do was-

"Get on with it!"

Ichirou's voice stung him into action. Makoto whipped back his arm and unleashed Jatou.

The blades sprang out, quick as their namesake. They rushed towards the target. Makoto held his breath, silently begging the kami for help. The final blade leapt past the target.

And struck the ground.

Makoto yelped and dropped the sword. He stumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet. He landed flat on his backside, just in time to avoid the tangle of blades hurtling towards him.

"Makoto!"

Makoto flushed and bit back a curse. Laughter filled his ears as he struggled back to his feet.

Grandpa rushed over to help him up. Makoto sighed and shook his head. He looked up and found Mama peering out of the hut's doorway, concern etched on her face. She was still holding the mirror she'd been painting for Ume-sama's shrine.

"I-it's okay, Mama. I didn't get cut," Makoto added, as Mama's accusing stare moved towards Grandpa.

"I thought I told you-"

"It's alright, Ageha. No harm done." Grandpa patted Makoto on the back, showing that he was still in one piece.

Mama didn't look too convinced. "He's twelve, Grandfather. Sparring with Ichirou is one thing but that..." She shook her head. "He's more than good enough with a katana."

Makoto's blush deepened. Mama worried too much, everyone agreed. Still... "Sorry, Mama. I'll be more careful. I promise."

He didn't have to look round to know that Ichirou was rolling his eyes. As he dusted himself off, he caught the familiar words. Mama's boy. Not like Ichirou could talk. He'd caught him eying her up more than once. Then again, most of the village men could barely keep their eyes off her.

Pity he'd never look at him that way.

At least his words were enough to satisfy Mama, for the time being. She put down her mirror and paintbrush and settled herself on the porch. Her eyes remained on him and Grandpa.

Grandpa picked up Jatou and began to fold up the blades. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Maybe I should take another look at Jatou."

Makoto shook his head. "It works for you, right?"

Grandpa gave him a wry smile. "Not the first time." He pulled up his sleeve to display a silvery scar. "Jatou's bit me more than once. Maybe we should-"

"Shun'ichi?" Onuki-sama's voice came clear across the yard. He stood at ease, his bokken still in his hand. He hadn't made a move since Makoto's fall.

"Onuki-sama?" Grandpa bowed his head in respect.

"May I test the blade?"

Grandpa made a deep bow. His eyes betrayed nothing. "It would be an honour, Onuki-sama."

The samurai bowed his head and strode across the yard. The bystanders' eyes grew wide. He took Jatou from Grandpa and tested its weight. His brow creased as he examined the sword.

Makoto fought the urge to fidget. It was wrong to begrudge Onuki-sama's desire but the sight of Jatou in someone else's hand filled his stomach with lead. He forced himself to wait.

Onuki-sama raised Jatou above his head. The sword caught the morning light and shone like a sunbeam. Makoto sucked in his breath. Aoi let out a gasp. The world slowed to a halt as the samurai drew back his arm.

And lowered it once more.

The blades remained sheathed. Makoto released his breath. Onuki-sama gave Grandpa a nod and held out Jatou.

"Onuki-sama?" Grandpa's wrinkles deepened.

"This is fine work indeed, Shun'ichi. The balance is perfect."

"It is very kind of you to say so, Onuki-sama." Grandpa's face remained fixed in a smile. "I see you have need of a new blade."

The lead in Makoto's stomach turned to ice.

"Thank you, Shun'ichi. But a katana will suffice." The samurai offered the sword to Makoto. "Try a little less force this time."

Makoto blinked. He glanced at Grandpa, who nodded his approval. Makoto laid his hand on Jatou's hilt, somehow managing to keep it from shaking.

Onuki-sama favoured him with a smile. "I believe this is yours, is it not?"

Makoto bowed his head in thanks. His fingers clasped Jatou's hilt. The snakeskin was still warm from the samurai's touch. He turned away before another blush could make its mark.

The target stood waiting.

He swallowed and raised Jatou above his head. A murmur rippled through the bystanders. One of the boys nudged Ichirou with his elbow. Ichirou snorted. Cold sweat trickled down Makoto's back.

He looked to Grandpa for support. However, it was Onuki-sama who spoke.

"Makoto." The samurai's voice was soft but firm. "Remember what you're aiming for."

Makoto stared at him. He received only a smile in response. He gave the samurai a small nod and fixed his gaze on the target.  He lifted Jatou once more.

The murmurs grew louder.

Makoto drew back his arm. His hand was steady as a mountain. As his finger slipped over the catch, he caught sight of Ichirou's smirk in the corner of his vision.

How he longed to cut that smirk in two.

"Like he's going to hit anything with that dumb bendy sw-"

Makoto released his breath and let the blades fly.

Jatou unfurled like a whip. The blades sped towards the target. Their path was true as an arrow. The twelfth blade sheared clean through the bamboo.

This time, Makoto was ready for them. He tilted back his arm and retrieved the blades. The impact staggered him but he managed to stay on his feet. He caught his balance and turned to grin at his audience.

Grandpa beamed back at him. Mama couldn't help but smile. The villagers still couldn't shut their mouths, although they'd run out of words to fill them with. Ichirou had fallen straight off the fence.

But in that moment, he only had eyes for Onuki-sama.

The samurai's smile was soft as snow. His eyes held nothing but warmth. He didn't say a word but that hardly mattered. The pride in his eyes said more than enough.

Grandpa's hand ruffled his hair. He'd never looked so pleased. "What did I tell you, young man?"

Makoto's grin widened. "I-I did it!"

" 'Course you did." Grandpa turned to Mama, still beaming. "You've got nothing to worry about here, Ageha."

"So long as I've got my eye on the pair of you." She didn't stop smiling though.

Grandpa chuckled. "Oh, I can be sure of that." He looked up at Onuki-sama. "Although I think you deserve more credit than me."

The samurai laughed and raised his hands in protest. "Please, Shun'ichi. You've given him far more instruction than I have."

It was Grandpa's turn to raise his hands. "You flatter me, Onuki-sama. I'm more smith than swordsman. Makoto's a natural." His expression softened as he gazed at Makoto. "I haven't seen anyone handle Jatou like that since my boy."

Makoto's eyes grew soft. If it wasn't for Jatou, Grandpa's stories were all he'd have left of Papa. Mama spoke of him even less, though she'd never tried to find another husband. Papa's hut held a lot of memories for both of them.

Onuki-sama let out a cough. "If you're looking for work, the Onuki are always in need of smiths. My father has an eye for good steel."

Grandpa gave him a rueful smile. "You honour me. But I've seen more than enough of war, Onuki-sama. This is where I'll stay."

The samurai bowed his head. "I see." If Grandpa's words disappointed him, he was disciplined enough not to show it. "Although it's a shame there's so little demand for your skills in these parts. I would have thought there'd at least be someone to join your grandson for practice."

Makoto glanced in Ichirou's direction. He looked away, although not before Makoto glimpsed a sudden flush on his cheeks.

Onuki-sama followed his gaze. Ichirou was unable to meet the samurai's eyes. Onuki-sama turned back to Grandpa.

"My apologies, Shun'ichi. It seems I have another favour to ask of you."

Grandpa shook his head. "No need for apologies, Onuki-sama. What can I do for you?"

"Well, as it happens, I too have need of a partner."

Makoto's eyes grew wide. Surely he couldn't be-

"Will you grant me this kindness, O-Ageha?" the samurai continued.

Mama fixed the samurai with a steady gaze. Fresh sweat broke out on Makoto's forehead. Finally, she made a small bow. "The kindness is yours, Onuki-sama."

Relief fell over Makoto like a blanket. Another grin spread across his face. "R-really? Um, I mean, thank you, Onuki-sama. Very much."

Onuki-sama smiled back at him. "I'm not up to sparring just yet but I can show you a few kata. If I have your permission, of course?" he asked Mama.

Mama returned the smile. "Of course."

Makoto's heart swelled in his chest. He couldn't resist a final look back at Ichirou. The older boy avoided his eyes. He put his arm around Aoi and called the others away. They left without so much as a glance in his direction.

Somehow, he didn't mind that so much anymore.

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Constructive criticism is very welcome!

I update every Sunday.