Sleeping Beauty by SaikonoYume

Prolog

I've had many people tell me that writing Inu Yasha into a fairy tale is nearly impossible. I suppose it would be, if one kept the same structure a fairy tale had, or if one tried to replace the characters in the fairy tale with the characters from Inu Yasha. Understand that I have no intention of doing either of those things. The premise of this story follows that of Sleeping Beauty insofar as there is a princess, that same princess falls into an enchanted sleep, and there is a prince who rescues her. The rest is... rather up for grabs.

Also: I do not pluralize words like "miko" or "yokai." Some people do, and this is their choice. I am, however, something of a language purist. The Japanese do not pluralize words as English speakers do (or most who speak a romantic language). There are few words which they do pluralize, and they do it using the suffix, if you will, "tachi" (i.e. kodomo, child, becomes kodomotachi, children). To pluralize Japanese in the English way makes me cringe.

Prolog

Once upon a time there was a king and there was a queen. They lived happily for many years, and the kingdom prospered under their rule. But, as time passed, the queen found that she could not bear a child for her husband. Distraught, the queen traveled into the forest that lay to the north of her husband's castle, despite his pleas that she not go. Legends said that great and powerful yokai and miko lived in the forest, and the queen was certain that she could convince one to help her.

In the forest, the queen met a miko, and asked the young woman for her help. The miko told the queen that she could make her dreams for a child come true. She cautioned her that whenever great magic is used for good, great magic will often be used for evil, in order to equate the two forces. The queen, believing she understood the risk, asked the miko to help her regardless.

Two moons later, the queen discovered she was pregnant. Eight moons after that, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The kingdom was filled with elation on behalf of the king and queen. An extravagant celebration was held in honor of the princess's birth. Even peasants were welcome to celebrate in the palace courtyard, and danced and sang and feasted. Inside the castle, the king and queen held a special feast for their nobles and the many miko and yokai.

Careful not to offend, the king and queen had invited the eight most powerful miko in the realm, as well as the four taiyokai. The taiyokai came to honor the pact that had been established between the yokai and the humans. The miko came to honor the great work that their sister from the forest had done; she herself was one of the eight invited. As custom dictated, each miko and each yokai came with a gift for the baby princess.

The taiyokai of the north brought the small child a mirror made of ice that would never melt and would show her whomever she wished. The taiyokai of the south brought the baby a carved ivory box that contained jewelry. Each piece was charmed to protect the princess against poisons and weapons. The taiyokai of the east brought the little princess a small glass globe that, when she held it in her hand, would burn with an inextinguishable fire. The final taiyokai, the lord of the west, brought the newborn a bow made of sturdy rowan and a quiver filled with arrows that would never miss their target.

Once the taiyokai had given their gifts to the smiling baby girl, the miko stepped forward. Smiling to each other, they clustered about the princess's crib and bent over her, laying their hands on her and giving her their special gifts. The first gave the princess grace. The second gave the princess song. The third gave the princess dance. The fourth gave the princess beauty. The fifth gave the princess compassion. The sixth gave the princess wisdom. The seventh gave the princess joy.

When the eighth miko, the one who had helped the queen to conceive, approached the cradle, a great explosion shook the palace. When she turned, the miko saw the land's only dark miko. Chilling realization swept over the room at the sight of the black miko. The queen had forgotten to invite her, inadvertently causing offence.

With a vicious smile, the black miko approached the crib, ignoring the mother's pleas for forgiveness. She peered into the crib, stared into the little princess's bright blue eyes. The little princess peered out of the crib, stared into the black miko's cold dark eyes. Laughing at the child's boldness, the miko announced that she, too, would give the baby a gift. Bending over the cradle, despite cries from both mother and father, the black miko bestowed her gift.

On her eighteenth birthday, the little princess will cut herself on the edge of a poisoned yokai blade and she will fall to the ground, dead.

Laughing wickedly, the black miko left the castle grounds, her revenge exacted. As the miko left, a great cry went up from both human and yokai alike. The humans were enraged, calling for the removal of the yokai immediately, for they did not want their long-awaited princess to die. If the curse called for her death by a yokai blade, they would remove the source of such a blade. The yokai were enraged as well, crying out at how quickly the humans dishonored the pact that had built up many years of peace. And while the humans and the yokai shouted their rage at each other, the queen fell into the king's arms and wept for the daughter she would barely have a chance to know. Eighteen years were not enough for a woman who had waited so long for a child.

But the eighth miko had yet to give her gift.

Stepping forward, she spoke, her quiet voice demanding attention. Gently, she reminded the humans and the yokai that she hadn't given the child her blessing. She explained that she could not undo the black miko's curse, for it was the act of magic that balanced what she had done to help the king and queen. But, while she could not remove the curse, she told the yokai and the humans that she could temper it. Turning to the little princess in the crib, the miko smiled.

You will not die, she told the quiet baby. You will still cut yourself on the edge of a yokai blade. But you will not die, little princess, because you are a miko as well as I and your body will purify the poison on the blade. Instead, you will sleep eternally, never aging, until a yokai comes and takes the poison from your body into his own.

Her amendment to the curse made, the miko stepped back from the crib to rejoin her sisters. Sitting quietly, his wife in his arms, the king realized his nobles would not rest until they were assured the safety of his daughter. They were as eager as he for the princess, knowing now that their country would not be torn asunder by civil war should he die without an heir.

Enraged by the breach of treaty, the taiyokai rose from their seats and departed the king's castle with their retainers. There would never again be a peace between human and yokai, they proclaimed as they left. If the humans could not trust the yokai, there was no way there could be peace, for peace always requires trust.

And so, the humans lived, separate from the yokai who threatened the princess. All weapons created by yokai, all weapons containing the yokai's strengths and powers, were destroyed in the purifying fire of the miko. Parents began to weave fantastical stories about the yokai, describing to their children dangerous beasts, nothing like the creatures that had, not so long ago, been part of their lives. Yokai, parents whispered, were to be avoided and, if possible, destroyed. Indeed, any yokai who ventured too close to the palace was felled by the eighth miko, who had remained at the palace to guard the young princess.

As the years passed, the princess grew into a joyful and wise young woman. A compassionate creature, with a love for music and dancing, the princess always moved with an ethereal grace. Her parents tried to have her trained to master the powers she had been born with; hoping that it would help her to protect herself against the poison she was bound to encounter, but the princess could never sit through her lessons. She was always running off on some grand adventure in the forest with her closest companions: a demon exterminator and a Buddhist monk.

The princess grew older, everyday bringing her eighteenth birthday closer. But her parents and the people around her began to relax with each passing day. The yokai were quiet; none had tried to enter the castle or the surrounding city for quite some time. Weapons containing youki had been eliminated. The people thought their princess was safe.

Soon, the princess's eighteenth birthday arrived. The king and queen planned a grand festival to honor their daughter, one that would last an entire week, ending on the princess's birthday. There was to be dancing and singing and feasting. Samurai were to come to display their skill and fortunetellers would whisper the secrets of what was to be.

The princess couldn't care less.