Hound of the Noh

Remembrance of Blazes of the Past

Disclaimer: This is a combination of Inuyasha characters and the plotline of Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera (centering on the most recent movie of it). I own nothing. The names of masks and descriptions of the stage are based on factual plays in history of Japan. I tried to research and make this as accurate as possible (but honestly, how factual are demons) and I apologize if I'm not 100 percent correct. All songs are from the movie.



Song (songfic section)


An elderly demon walked the steps leading towards two stone doors that stood open high above. Large logs were implanted into the ground and enchanted with white charms to lead the way for those that came to seek this place. Upon approaching the gate he could clearly read the banner at the side, the writing in Japanese.


The demon kept his pace steady as he heard the birds sing their songs of the past and the trees howl in fear while the wind danced amongst them. Once at the tip of the stairs the demon gazed at the scene before him. To his left stood a large temple: burned, broken and tainted. There were weeds and plants covering every inch of the deserted holy location. They encircled the poles, weaved through the windows and entangled the many statues of god, demons, and beautiful women. They hid their faces, their masks and thus their stories.

He stopped and quietly glanced to his right where a small shrine stood, created to honour the dead of 50 years past. He sniffed the air; he could still smell traces of the burning wood and flesh. This place of art, passion and history now lay in ruins due to the touch of one. The Demon growled deeply at the memories of men, women, children, and demons alike fleeing a great fire caused by the demonic creature of hell. The blood had spoiled this place and caused its inhabitants to fear its alignment and never return.

His eyes traveled to a nearby statue of a woman clutching her hands to her chest, holding a round marble like jewel near her heart. Though the lush plantation had dominated over the face, he knew exactly what she looked like, he could never forget. He knew exactly who she was: the last priestess of the Shiata Temple.

All because of him…All because of what happened….

A single name barely escaped his lips "Kagome…" a breeze overpowered the whisper and made it fade into the statue.

"Koga? Are you alright?" The images racing in his mind stopped and he returned to the present at the sound of his comrade's voice.

"I'm fine Ginta," he replied harshly as he whipped his head around back towards the temple and continued walking. His once dark black hair had met with time and had become streaked with deep sliver-grey colour, yet it was sill tied in a height ponytail accordingly, marking his rank as a high nobleman. His face was stern as he kept his eye on his destination.

Ginta and Hirruku exchanged glances at each other behind Koga's back. They knew that their leader was not 'fine'. This place brought back many memories that they all wished to forget, but never would. Their prince's sky blue eyes that once danced with the callings of the wind had dulled significantly, but did not lose its sparkle or its determination; though they had caught the flicker of new life and old youth dwindle as he tore his stare from the memorial.

They followed Koga, one step behind him, into the remains to the damaged temple. It was still a sturdy building, but the atmosphere only held sorrow, fear, obsession and a hint of pity within it. Koga strode through the tough terrain with ease, but the other members of the Wolf Prince's tribe had much more difficulty. They were careful to step over all the wreckage: the rotting wood, the chipped stone and the torn fabric, as if a single sound would stir the dead and revive the madness of the creature that hung in the midst.

Koga made his way through the labyrinth of hallways as he had done many times before, and stopped only when he reached the back door. He pushed open the door with both his hands and stepped back outside, not looking back to see whether or not his companions had kept up with him.

In front of him should have been a path, but now it lay under years of foliage. He walked the invisible pathway over to a small semi-circle crowd of people who stood looking at old monk in blue clothing at the head. Koga took his place at the side of the assembly. The man gestured towards a small Chukei (folding fan) in his palm.

"Lot 664, ladies, gentleman and demons. The Chukei from this temple's Noh production of the Lady Kanna. It was generously donated for the play by Lady Kagura of the House of Naraku." The monk opened the fan with great grace to reveal the image of earthy Genji. "Do I hear 3 gold?"

The bidding had begun again.

"I say 3!" Yelled a demon from the back.

"I have 3 gold, anyone for 5 gold?"

Koga blocked them out and turned his attention to the white sheet that draped over a large figure behind the auctioneer. In its place, there once stood the most magical of sights. A cheery blossom tree used to announce the joys of spring with its arrival of buds and with it came the beginning of the Noh season. It was a time of festivities, signing, music and most of all dancing. The image of a dancing figure dressed in blue and white flickered across his mind and his eyes; thus, causing his heart to clutch.

"Eight once, selling twice…SOLD, to Sir Jinenji. I am sure your mother will love it." The monk smiled sincerely as he handed the Chukei to the large demon. "Thank you very much sir."

Koga eyed the large creature as he marched back to his spot. Koga's eyes suddenly locked with woman standing to the left of him. She looked back; a shocked feature glazed her as she retained a small sad smile. She had changed no doubt from the last time he had seen her. Her long black hair was now grey and hung loosely over her shoulders and over her light purple Kimono. Her face had wrinkled and had apparently had a dance with the god of time as he stole her youth from her.

Sango nodded her head in respect and received a nod in return by the wolf prince. It had been a very long time since she last saw him…since the great fire.

"Lot 665. A musical cloth dog-like toy attached to a small podium. As you can see, once you crank the small switch at the bottom the canine begins to bark like the sounds of the drums to the music magically heard from the podium." The monk proceeded to turn the small key and the sounds of the tsuzumi drums echoed throughout the forest and off the stone fence around the temple. The music brought both Sango and Koga back to the past…back to the stage on witch they stood in front of, back to the dance where they had their lovers in their arms…only for a second…only in the past.

"This item was recovered from the great fire fifty years ago. It is a magnificent historical edition to any collector's collection," continued the monk. "Shall I commence at 15 gold?" One young lady raised her hand. "I see 15. May I add that it would also be a pleasant treat for any young children. Ahem. Miss, would you care to bear my children so that this valuable piece of treasure may be shared between us?" The monk winked at the girl as she giggled.

Sango rolled her eyes at him.

Miroku…I guess somethings never change about you. Her eyes turned sad as she watched the cradle-robber of a monk walk towards the young girl. Sango face could be mistaken for a widow's who was looking at her dead husbands grave. The monk's eyes, controversy, held a mischievous look that defied the god of time and made him look 50 years younger. Apparently he had learned to cheat time better then she. Her heart skipped a beat as Miroku grabbed the hands of the maiden with his free hand. She wanted to do something, anything to make him notice her.

Sango raised her hand and yelled, "20 Gold".

That got his attention.

Miroku froze for a brief second. He recognized that voice. That was his Songo's sweet voice. He let go of the girl in front of him and turned to face a very pissed and old Songo. He hadn't seen her before now…why?

She had been right next to Jinenji and while he was at the front. She was well hidden behind the body of the large half-demon and only when Miroku stepped into the crowd was he able to notice her. As his eyes examined her, a blush appeared on her pale skin. She was just as beautiful as ever. A little older, but he couldn't deny that look she gave him, it was what attracted him to her. Those look of jealousy, caring, anger, embarrassment and love.

It was his Sango…and yet she was not his.

A raspy voice broke through the silence at the auction. "30 Gold." All heads turned to the Wolf demon, his hand in the air, his eyes fixed on the prize.

Miroku had seen Koga enter the theatre section of the temple a few moments ago, but it was still a surprise to see him after so long. "30 Gold for Prince Koga of the Wolf Demon Tribe."

Sango watched as Koga lowered his arm and crossed it over his chest, similar to the manner he used to do when he was determined to get something. She knew that stance of stubbornness, she had seen it many times before from the prince, and she knew she had no chance to go up against it. She reluctantly lowered her arm to her side, giving up a battle that needed not to be fought. Koga wanted this, she knew why.

"Do I hear 35 Gold…?" No one dared to compete, not with the murderous stare Koga shot at them. "Going once, going twice…SOLD to Prince Koga. Thank you." Miroku walked towards Koga and gave him the dog and then he bowed deeply. A nod and a smirk of satisfaction were all he got and all he expected from the prideful prince.

Miroku returned to his place on top of the stage and continued with the auction, glancing at Sango most of the time.

A collector's piece indeed,

Koga glared at the toy. He wanted to rip it apart with his fangs…but he knew that she wouldn't want that.

Every detail exactly as she said.

She would have wanted this, as much as he hated to admit it.

Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?

He still couldn't see why. That thing tried to kill everyone…yet she still…

"Let's move on to lot 666 then." Miroku turned slightly away from the audience and signalled for a few villagers. "The Slaughtered Tree. Some of you may recall the strange affair with the Hound of the Noh. A mystery never fully explained. This happens to be that tree that figures in that very disaster 50 years ago." All eyes in the audience peered at the tarp in the background. "Our workshops have repaired some of it. Most of it is built from clay, paper, younger Sakura trees and a little magic. Perhaps this sacred monument will frighten away the ghost of so many years ago." Though Mirku spoke the words he did not believe it for a second. The aura of demon still hung in the air, thick as fog and hazardous as fire. "Gentleman," the monk gave the command and the sheet was whipped off.

Many mouths gaped at its resemblance to the real Sacred Tree.

The brown bark stood firmly, wide as 10 villagers and tall as 20. A long white charm was wrapped around the trunk, indicating its importance and symbolizing the holiness of its presence. The leaves were lush green and the cheery blossoms were in full bloom, pink and mystical.

A strong wind howled across the sacred land as it carried many buds off the large tree and brought them with it pass Miroku, pass Sango and pass Koga. Into the temple and into the past.

One of the flowers landed onto Koga's fur armour.

At once the memories rushed back to him, hitting his body, his eyes, his soul with such a tremendous fire that it burned not to remember, not to look. The same blaze that ripped the heart of the temple and once destroyed it, now burned within his body aching him to realize the past once more. He watched silently as the fire back tracked over the holy land. The stonewalls rebuilt themselves, the wooden pillars grew from the ground, the rice paper doors un-burned and repapered as if it were 50 years back. No, not 'as if', they were there now. The spider webs disintegrated off the stage as the weeds sunk away from the metal statues; therefore, allowing them to shine as if they were new and polished. The fallen and non-existing candles manifested from the air itself and lit aflame, brightening the whole temple while the tiny blossoms danced in the wind.

The past was reviving itself.

The past was now the present.

And the memories escaped his mind and flowed freely…

It had begun again…


If I don't get any reviews I will assume no one likes it and I will stop writing. I am open and enjoy constructive criticism, but sensitive to harsh flames with no point (therefore you can say it sucks, just tell me why).I would like to improve my story if need be, please review.