Disclaimer: This is a derivative work featuring characters from Rumiko Takahashi's series, Inuyasha, whom to which the characters belong. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not making any money from this creative venture.
Author's Note: I want to personally thank fellow fanfiction writer, maestro de la muerte, for their help, input and feedback regarding this story. (I seriously owe this re-write to you! ^^) Please do check out their works, they're an excellent writer!
Also, thank you everyone who read the initial upload of this story. I'm sorry for changing things up on you, but I really appreciate your initial interest and I hope you might come by again to check out the revised version of Trust Works Both Ways!
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A watery substance fell in droplets from a weeping stalactite landing squarely below onto an oddly shaped jutting of rock. The liquid left a slimy trail as it spiraled its way down to the cave floor.
Tap. Tap.
The tapping stopped. The leaky cave ceiling hadn't been the cause of the sound; rather, the relentless drumming stemmed from the bony fingers of a man. Seeing the abrupt pause of his actions, an outside observer might believe a long-sought thought had finally occurred to the man. A ghost of a smile etched across his features. The pale man's eyes refocused on the one before him.
Knelt down by the pale man's feet sat a much older man so decrepit looking, it was a wonder the ancient artifact still breathed the same air. The pale man's mouth morphed into a grin when he noticed the older man's fearful expression. The derisive taunt didn't last for long, however; soon, the pale man's face became a blank slate as his eyes shifted to focus on something far off deep within the cave.
The old man let out a sigh of relief. The younger man seemed to be preoccupied with his own thoughts. Good. This was a slight repose from the scrutiny he'd had to endure ever since his guest had arrived.
The pale man had forced his way into the old man's cave, seeking to solicit his services as a shaman. The old man hadn't had a choice in the matter; the young man's tone and demeanor demanded obedience or else. The old shaman hadn't dared think on what that, "or else," could have meant, so he had conceded and obeyed his guest's demands.
Thus, here they were. The old man fidgeted in his precarious position before his guest, a man who happened to be one of the most feared throughout the land of Yamato.
Yes, he knew this man's—rather—half-demon's identity. This was Naraku, a murderer.
"You know, I was made in a cave."
The old man's jerking frame suggested that the half-demon's voice had startled him. When the old man's eyes met the vermilion ones of Naraku, his mouth fell open, seemingly having forgotten what it was he was about to say.
The half-demon was quick. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the old man's hesitance.
"Aren't you at all curious about that?" Naraku deadpanned, narrowed eyes sweeping over the restless figure of the shaman.
"Ah, n-no, Naraku-dono. I tend to mind my own business…" the old man laughed breathlessly, his own voice giving out at the end as worry overtook it. The old man's features were strained. It was clear he didn't want a conversation.
The half-demon picked up on the old man's nonverbal cues and he sneered. Naraku began to tap his fingers again, the tempo steadily increasing into a crescendo when he stopped abruptly, tilting his head. "If only everyone shared your reasoning, shaman."
Silence settled over the two once again, only to be broken by the sound of the old man's swallowing. Naraku grimaced.
"So… shaman. You say that if I were to get a physical part of my enemy, that I would be able to control his blood, and thus him, from afar?"
"Yes, Naraku-dono," the old man swallowed audibly again, taming his voice, "that is the ability of this… craft."
"I see," Naraku lowered his eyes momentarily. He appeared lost to his thoughts once again.
Another drop of liquid fell from the ceiling somewhere deep within the cave.
"I would need to obtain a fragment of my enemy's person…"
It must have stemmed from a strange desire to be useful for the old man spoke up suddenly, seeking to aid the half-demon's thoughts. "Yes, that is correct, Naraku-dono. And it must be given to you freely, willingly."
Naraku's head snapped up. "Explain yourself."
The shaman gave a knowing, yet tense, smile. "I suppose if your enemy was so free with his gifts to begin with, he wouldn't be an enemy…" A skinny, pink tongue flicked across the old man's dry lips before he continued. "This is a technique often used in suspected demonic possession to expel the intruding demon. The possessed one offers a drop of his own blood to the shaman who then takes control of his body and assists his soul in expelling the demon. One might wonder how it is possible to do this if the victim is under possession, but possession isn't constant, you see. It occurs in lapses. The stronger willed ones always have more lapses." The old man visibly shook himself, and when he spoke again, his topic of thought had changed. "Other agents may be used in place of blood, but any agent you receive must be given to you willingly by your enemy. Trust is the key to this technique and that trust is physically manifested by his willingness to entrust you with a part of himself. Then, once you have gained your enemy's trust, it is easier to control him as a whole," the shaman paused for a second. "Do you understand?"
Naraku's eyes glinted dangerously, yet he smirked, amused. "You've spun such a complicated web, old man. Though, if age is any indication of your expertise in the matter, I dare say you appear to know what you're talking about."
The old shaman sat patiently as the half-demon quieted once again, a series of subtle emotions playing across the half-demon's face as he turned idea over idea around in his head. The shaman's own face took on an air of concentration, as if trying to decipher some of the thoughts that manifested themselves on Naraku's countenance. Perhaps if he had an idea what the spider demon was thinking, he'd have a hint to his own survival out of this situation.
Understandably, the sudden grin of pure malice that split the half-demon's face provided the shaman with little hope.
The whites of the half-demon's eyes seemed to double as his irises shrunk, his handsome face contorting into something more maniacal than simple malice.
The abrupt change caused the man to quiver in his seat. His legs shook so badly he seemed near to soiling himself.
And just like that, the half-demon's insane expression was gone. It was as if nothing had been amiss. If it weren't for the shaman's beaded brow and wringing hands, none would know of the terror he'd felt. Naraku's eyes were still alight.
"Revered shaman," the half-demon's voice was almost a purr as he leant towards the man, "must I be the one to receive this 'trust' you so speak of?"
The shaman's prolonged silence suggested that he hadn't quite grasped the half-demon's meaning.
Naraku rolled his eyes, sighing harshly before reframing his question. "Could someone else procure the enemy's trust in my stead? And then give it to me?"
The old man began to nod as he processed the words. His expression was still pensive.
The shaman's hesitation forced Naraku to explain even further. "If a contact of mine were to receive, say, a hair freely given to him by my enemy—and he was then to give the hair to me—would this blood enchantment still work?" The half-demon's voice was becoming strained.
The shaman's face brightened suddenly. The creaky wheels of the old man's brain were finally beginning to turn. Naraku scoffed, looking elsewhere.
"Ah! I get what you are saying now. You want someone to act in your place."
"Yes, that's more or less what I'm saying." The half-demon looked as if ready to wrestle a bull.
"Well, it's certainly worth a try."
"What?" Naraku gritted out, teeth clenched and the reds of his eyes turning to fire. "You are not confident," he intoned. Somewhere in that statement was a question demanding an answer.
The tapping started anew.
The old man was hurriedly formulating an answer. There appeared to be a correlation between the half-demon's flares in temper and the mechanical drumming of his fingers. "It is simply something I haven't tried myself, Naraku-dono. Not to that extent, no."
There was a hint of condescension in the shaman's voice that made Naraku growl slightly, as out-of-character as it was.
Hackles raised, the shaman rushed to explain, "As long as there is trust there, Naraku-dono, it will work. Trust me. You cannot control someone who isn't willing; as long as they are willing to entrust themselves to you, to someone—anyone-the enchantment will work. Absolute control will be possible."
This explanation seemed to settle Naraku. The old man fought a sigh of relief when the half-demon seemed to shrink in size, returning to his usual complacence.
It was a few seconds more before the half-demon spoke again.
"You've proven quite useful, old man. I am forever… indebted to you for the knowledge you have imparted upon me today."
Though he had fought down his relief easily enough, the shaman failed to quell the hope that lit up his face. There was nothing damning in what the half-demon said—perhaps he would get out of this predicament alive!
Naraku started slightly at the man's hopeful expression, but it wasn't out of surprise. The half-demon's face took on a look of disgust.
As non-assuming as he could, Naraku stood from his perch of stone, smoothing the white baboon pelt as it fell about his frame.
"I do believe now's the time," Naraku announced as his eyes settled on the old man before him.
The shaman's eyes followed the half-demon's movements warily. He'd lived too long for him not to know that an evil man couldn't be trusted. He refused to let his trepidation show, however. He forced an upbeat disposition.
"Oh, will you be leaving now?"
"Why, yes I will… but that's not what I was referring to," Naraku looked almost pensive as he cast a look over his shoulder to the entrance of the cave. Was the half-demon expecting someone?
"You'll forgive this old man, Naraku-dono," the shaman chuckled dryly, sweat beading his brow once again. Something seemed amiss. "I'm not as quick as I used to be. I'm afraid you'll have to be more exhaustive in your explanations—"
"There's no need," Naraku interrupted as he spun his head back around to face the shaman. An almost kind smile graced his features but it didn't reach his eyes. "There's something you ought to know about me, Sakaki."
The old man's sharp intake of breath dwindled to nothing as the half-demon suddenly advanced upon him. The shaman's throat clenched when the half-demon knelt down before him, his eyes bulged when the spider demon brought his mouth close to his ear.
The old man was beside himself with fear and yet Naraku did not end it. Instead, the half-demon leaned ever so slightly forward and whispered quietly, gently.
"I hate being in debt."
It hadn't taken long for the hoard of demons to come. Naraku had been calling them, summoning them throughout his conversations with the old man. Although he was several paces from the small cave, he could still hear the screams from the old man inside.
Naraku thought the end fitting. In his fear, the old man had implored that he, Naraku, trust him. That Naraku was to somehow trust an old man and his senile musings, why, it was ludicrous.
Naraku trusted no one.
But that wasn't to say that fact couldn't change in the near future. The half-demon supposed he would have to, eventually, learn to trust someone if there was to be any chance of Sakaki's enchantment working. Naraku had to sacrifice even that much.
And what if Naraku's sacrifices were for naught and the enchantment failed to work?
Well, he couldn't very well kill the old shaman twice, now could he?
A malicious grin took root on Naraku's face and the birds ceased their song as he made his way passed.
Thank you for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!