Author's note- I played around with ages here. This story takes place a few years before the forming of the Inu-Tachi, making the characters a bit younger than what they are in the series. However, I kept Kohaku the same age as he is when we meet him. I just figured that the interaction between a barely-teenaged Sango and an eight-year-old Kohaku wouldn't fit this story's mood. You'll see what I mean almost as soon as you delve into this.

Enjoy!

I felt a sting at my eye and realized that it was my own blood, trailing its way down my face.

Amazing, how my body could feel something so insignificant amongst all of the other shit it had gone through. Oops. I said "shit." How dare I? An honorable monk, spouting obscenities. Oh wait. I had forgotten. I am not an honorable monk. I would have to be honorable for that… or even a monk. I am neither.

Especially not to the people who are screaming for my blood.

A wonder, how the average human being is more afraid of an inhumanly powerful human than a demonic evil. My kazaana is truly my curse, for it helped to save a young boy from rampaging demons. Did they reward me? No. The first time I ever use it, and I am thought to be "marked by devils."

A stone hit the back of my head, knocking me onto the ground.

Yells, taunts, screams of fear. The young women with whom I had previously flirted were now pulling their younger siblings away, covering their eyes. I must have been a mess. But I suspect that that was not the reason they were shielding their young. I was a monster, given an unimaginable power that could only have been bestowed by a demon. A disgrace.

Blood rose up in the back of my throat, butit were no match for the sudden onslaught of tears.

I would not hide. I would not run. Then I would most assuredly prove myself guilty to some mythical crime. If I even attempted to use any of my holy powers against them, what would happen? Would they realize that I would not have gifts from the Buddha if I had sold my soul to some demon? Or would they only assume that my powers were that of the same sort as my kazaana? T'was best to keep oneself as blank as possible in times such as these.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Sunlight poured through. It was only then when I realized that a crowd had formed around me, its density blocking out the rays of the sun. Whoever the owner of this strong voice was, it was surely someone of importance. "Sir," another voice said, "we found him by Kiboyashi's hut, by his boy. He has a mark on his right palm, the mark of Naraku."

An icy shiver went through my spine.

They know. Those whom I had thought of as only simple villagers, they know of Naraku. I tried to form questions, but my mouth seemed numb and unable to speak any words. As my lips moved about, I inadvertently spat something out. It was a wad of blood, and a chipped tooth. If I had hoped to glide by life relying on my good looks, then I should have had a back-up plan.

A shadow fell over me, cooling me from the harsh sun's rays.

I tried to look up, but again my body could not respond. I lay there, my cheek on the ground, seeing only the man's black shoes as he approached. The shadows shifted, and I was suddenly looking at his knees. By the time I realized that he had crouched in front of my face, a strong hand gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him.

The man was wearing a black-and-crimson taijya outfit.

"He's only a boy," the taijya said at last. "Is he the reason you ran over to my village and told me to round up some of my fighters?" Only a boy…. Never had I ever been referred to in such a way. I would have smirked had I not lost all motor senses in my face. "Y-yes, sir," another voice spoke up. "His hand, sir. Look at his hand-."

This unknown demon exterminator paid him no heed.

"What is your name, son?" It took me a moment before I realized that he was speaking to me. I tried to answer, but try as I might, my lips would not obey what my brain begged of them. His face was kind and gentle, but what I paid more attention to was the sight behind him. The sky was a clear, clear blue. It was marred by not a single cloud.

Until the young boy stepped into the framework.

"Father?" I knitted my eyebrows, thinking for a moment that he was speaking to me. Seeing his taijya outfit lined with a blue similar to that of the sky, I realized that this was the son of the man holding onto my chin and searching for signs of life in me. "Will he be all right?" My vision doubled, and I saw two versions of the much more up-close taijya elder before me, and two of his son, standing to his left.

But my vision became clear when another figure stepped to the man's right.

Even through the blood that had fallen into my eyes, her serious brown eyes seemed to pierce into my soul. She removed the exterminating mask from the lower half of her face, seeing that I was no threat in my current state, and revealing to me a small piece of nirvana, if I may be so blasphemous as to use such a comparison. She had a large weapon of sorts- it looked almost like a boomerang- strapped to her back and carefully set it down. Bending down behind the man, she peered down at me curiously. "Is he even alive?"

I would have attempted to answer her had my whole world not gone black.