MJSKK: Finally! A creative urge!
Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takashi-san
Hetalia Axis Powers belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya-san
Note: Moscow, Russia – A.D. 1505
•Twenty-five years before, 1480, the Mongol khan marched on Moscow after Ivan III refused to pay the annual tribute of tax to the Golden Horde; to them; however, they soon withdrew without a fight.
•Thirty-three years before, in 1472, Ivan III marries the only female relative, a niece, of the Byzantine Empire's last emperor, Constantine XI.
I
Siberia, Russia
Once brilliant cerulean-slate eyes gazed blankly at the fire in front of them, small calloused hands gripped a mahogany long bow, the string long since snapped—the quiver upon their back empty of any arrows. A few crows stayed perched in the empty limbs and branches of the trees around the figure, frosty Columbian blue eyes giving the person their undivided attention. The figure shivered unconsciously, the flame flickering on the dry wood—hissing and popping, sending occasional sparks this way and that.
Flakes of powdered precipitation drifted lazily from the smoky gray clouds, abysmally black-royal blue hair dotted with off-white as the person didn't bother doing anything about the snow. Their fingers and toes were cold, frigid as they did their best to not move, shivering in the dead of winter—extremities verging on a deep shade of indigo. A minuet purr sounded from the figure's left; a ball of crème-colored fur with hints of black was curled in on itself, shivered openly.
Russo corsa pigmented irises were in a fixed stare at nothing; cerulean-slate eyes filled with tears as the person stood in the middle of the battlefield. The figure brokenly and gingerly grasped the majority of the pink marble that was within the remains, closing her hands around that and her pieces, a faint mauve light could be seen through the cracks in between her fingers as the jewel fused itself back together.
'This jewel is hell on earth…'
Lightly tanned skin paled as their eyes swept over the battlefield when the person turned, she flinched, hands tightening momentarily on the mauve jewel.
She closed her eyes, unwilling to face the blood and dead bodies littering the field of the final battle. More tears fell from her eyes as she brought her clasped hands to her chest, shivering from pent-up emotions and the chilling wind that blew through the trees around the field. Her own blood soaked through her jean caprice, running down the side of her right leg. The black long sleeve shirt underneath her white tee shirt held tears—the both of them did—more of her own blood staining the pristine material. The simple sneakers upon her feet were just about totally soaked with blood and caked with mud and grass stains—another large grass stain on the underside of her left caprice leg, running up the back of her tee shirt.
The faint sound of boots crunching what remained of the grass and of pebbles in the exposed dirt made the female peek open one of her cerulean-slate eyes, avoiding the carnage to gaze at the white-silver-haired figure taking his time walking up to her.
Empty eyes looked behind themselves as a few crows echoed each other's calls, resonating throughout the empty and dead forest around her and her animal companion. The fire flared slightly before dying down even more.
"Miko."
Cerulean-slate eyes opened even more, her voice barely escaping her throat, "Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama?"
Finger tightened around the body of the bow, hands bending and warping the wood.
"Your companions are dead; they would not want to be consistently mourned. Let them rest in peace – honor that for them."
The female closed her eyes, fresh hot tears rolling down her cheeks, "D-demo… Miroku-sama, Sango-chan… Kouga-kun…"
"Not all are deceased, miko."
The miko looked up at the Taiyoukai, eyes blurred with tears—hopeful.
The wood of the bow snapped under the tension calloused hands pressed upon it. The sudden abrupt noise jarred the animal companion out of its slumber—sangria irises bluntly staring up at the young miko.
The Taiyoukai raised one hand, by the scruff of her neck hung a bloodied—alive, though soiled with blood—Kirara, sangria eyes blinking up at the miko, purring at the site of her master's sister-like companion.
"The kit that you so dearly care for is still with Rin, Jaken and Ah-Un."
The miko pulled her thick animal fur cloak closed to her body, the two pieces of her bow thrown into the fire to prolong its inevitable death. She gently scooped up the nekomata, securing her in the scarce warmth—warmth nonetheless—of the fur cloak. The crows around them sounded even more, soul-chilling cries echoing throughout the dead vegetated wasteland.
"What of the jewel, Sesshoumaru-sama?"
The demon lord made a snort-like sound, "It is yours to protect. It came from your body; you are the one to keep it pure and safe."
Kagome let herself break down in sobs. Kirara—recently dropped by the Taiyoukai to the ground—did her best to comfort the miko, front paws resting on the female's knees that she sat on.
Sesshoumaru stood silently nearby, wind rustling both of their clothing and hair. His honey gold irises remained impassive as he gazed at her, glancing over his shoulder at the tree line behind his person.
The recently risen moon ascended higher up in the heavily dark navy sky, off-white and ice blue stars twinkling innocently in the great expanse of the sky.
The snow crunching under heavy boots drew the miko's attention from the nearly dead fire, drawing the fur cloak around her and Kirara as much as she could as her cerulean-slate eyes locked with medium shade of royal lavender-purple. Her powers flared as her instincts kicked in, hairs on her body—most specifically on the back of her neck—rising in response, body tense and ready to fight – how could someone look so childish?
"Я думал, все монголы покинули Россию, да?" ("I thought all of the Mongols had left Russia, yeah?")
The miko—Kagome—furrowed her black eyebrows, lips frowning at the tall—dangerously childish—man with a tan scarf, thick winter coat, heavy boots, royal lavender-purple eyes and beige hair – something about him rubbed her powers the wrong way. He isn't normal…
His eyes turned dark as her powers skimmed across his person, testing themselves against whatever there was of his skin showing. The beige-haired male, let his smile drop a little as it turned more sinister towards the small female, "Твои глаза отличаются от других монголов ... Вы хотя бы одну из них?" ("Your eyes are different than the other Mongols... are you even one of them?")
Kagome glared at the man, hand reaching for the dagger that Sesshoumaru had given her when she decided to travel, the sword hidden on her back underneath her cloak too cumbersome to try and unsheathe. Kirara mewed from her position in the neckline of the miko's shirt—closer to her body heat—one sangria eye able to take in the general profile of the strange man. She hissed in a warning towards him.
The man closed his in a smile, looking less sinister, yet still giving off the same feeling – if not more than before, "Вы довольно интересно. Это возмущает меня, может быть, даже отламывать вашем лице, да." ("You are quite interesting. It disgusts me, to maybe even twist off your face, yeah.")
Kagome had no idea what the man was saying, but his face grew dark about halfway through what he was saying – little warning bells in her mind starting to go off. Placing a hand in front of the mekomata's face to prevent her from jumping out of her shirt to attack the man, the miko skidded snow onto the burning embers of the dead fire—a loud pained hiss erupted from them—flinging herself forward, following Kirara's instincts about the man, attempting to take a swipe at him with her dagger.
Taking in a sharp intake of air, her cerulean-slate eyes widened and stared up at the man as he smiled down at her, both of her wrists held in his hands. Kagome tried to twist herself to get him to release her, without success, but remaining to struggle to try and escape – her powers were flaring in warning in response to the feel of the man who held her captive.
"Огненное. Я хочу увидеть, что огонь уничтожил ваши." ("Fiery. I want to see that fire of yours destroyed.")
"Watashi ni iko u!" ("Let me go!")
The beige-haired male had no idea what the small female he held in his grip had shouted at him, but he knew that it wasn't in the same language as the Mongols had spoken in. He let his grin grow creepier, she was a foreigner…
He had known that there was a disturbance at the back of his mind; Ivan had followed that feeling to where he was now, facing this small woman. Something about her had sent pinpricks throughout his body, goose bumps rising as he watched her eyes go from blank and empty to dilated pupils and a hidden fire—that needed to be extinguished—as soon as she noticed his presence.
His prince had just gotten the Mongols to leave Russia after refusing to pay the annual tribute of tax to them twenty-five years earlier, finally getting Russia under the control of Moscow. Ivan glanced down at the struggling female, moving so that both of her wrists were in one of his large hands, his now free hand taking the dagger from her grip, turning it over in his hand, taking in its sharpness and size.
"Ga modo~tsu te yo! Sore wa watachi ni zokushi iru!" ("Give that back! It belongs to me!")
Kagome glared up at the large man, gaze locked with his royal lavender-violet one. She 'eeped' as he lifted her so that her feet no longer touched the snowy ground—she flailed and struggled as much she could—attempting to even try and lash out at him, kick him in any way, shape or form.
Bringing the dagger up to her face, the small female faltered in her struggles, eyeing the weapon turned against her, trying to escape the sharp metal. Ivan took enjoyment out of this, but he'd have truly enjoyed it if she were cowering in fear of him, begging for her life to be spared. He let the sharp edge of the metal rest against the curve of her cheek, merely holding the end of the hand with two fingers, letting the blade's full weight rest against her face, "Почему ты не боишься? Я буду делать для исправления уверен, что очень скоро ..." ("Why aren't you afraid? I will make sure to remedy that, very soon…")
Kagome looked into his eyes, all too aware of the weapon against her face, vaguely starting to feel the bite of the frigid blade as it was starting to cut her face.
"Nani wo watashi ni nanu wo suru tsumori wa…" ("What are you planning to do to me…")
Ivan just stared into her eyes, a feeling of dread came over her as the dagger started to cut through her freezing flesh, a bead of deep scarlet welled up to the surface underneath the blade, slowly make its sluggish way down her cheek.
TBC
MJSKK: I had no choice but to use a google translator for the Japanese and Russian!! Eep, sorry about the crappiness of the translation. I guess I should apologise for being away for so long, yes? Well... I can't becuase I wouldn't feel sorry, I just didn't have the creative urge to write for this past year plus. Hm. Hope you all don't mind.