Puppet Without Strings

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.


Prologue

It was chilly for a mid-summer morning.

Unseen sky, veiled-over by ominous gray clouds, sprinkled its crystal tears upon the dark streets of Sengoku below. Such bleakness of atmosphere served to place further emphasis on the city's already desolate mood. It was as if the weather had been privy to the ceremony that was to take place and had altered its disposition to a darker, more suitable one.

Yet in the cold and rain; in this dreariest of settings, a silent crowd had gathered, their dark attire blending soundly with monotonous cobblestone surroundings, creating a deadened sea of grays and blacks and every shade in between. In this manner the people stood, overshadowed by an aura of sadness, to accept the condolences of gray skies above in lifeless stillness. Their eyes stayed fixated upon the charcoal vehicle traveling with depressing slowness down the empty road before them.

The funeral procession followed.

Central City's Grand Cathedral had a light-colouring that was unbefitting and out-of-place for an occasion such as this. It loomed, taunting, overhead as the funeral car pulled up before its marble steps. Yet it was into this building that officers from the city's top military units carried a single, obsidian casket while a pair of solemn figures, heads-bowed and expressions vacant, trailed after them.

Later on, an emotionally-loaded eulogy would be delivered and the grounds would be opened up to the public to pay their respects as was tradition. But through it all, the eyes of one Higurashi Kagome would stay dry and blank.


The newscaster on screen recited her prepared story in the steady, singsong tone that was unique to all newscasters.

'Today, men and women, young and old alike, paid their individual farewells to President Higurash; beloved leader, and involuntary father to many who were gathered. This man who guided us through a time of war and destitution and led our people into brighter days, can never and will never be replaced.'

Pale fingers drummed on dark mahogany to an unheard rhythm as their owner sat in silent contemplation.

'Weeks, perhaps days prior to this moment, not a soul in this very crowd would have believed that our own Eiji Higurashi, survivor and ex-patriot of the great war that had robbed so many others of their lives, would meet his untimely end with something so seemingly petty as a heart disease….'

The figure let out a scoff.

"Hn. A heart disease. I'd have expected better of them…'

A creaking of the door's rusty hinges signaled the entrance of another.

'Sir. She's returned--'

The figure at the desk gave the screen a small sneer before turning to offer his subordinate a slight nod of acknowledgement. An elegant hand rose to wave the comment off.

'Right. Send her into storage.'

The doorway's lone occupant nodded but stood his ground, shuffling his feet in nervous apprehension. A staunch silence befell the room then; almost deafening in its pungency. When the figure at the desk swung round to pose his question finally, the edgy subordinate all but collapsed in foreboding. He willed his legs to stone and put on as brave a front as was possible under the circumstances. The chill in his master's voice alone nearly broke his resolve.

'Now tell me, what went wrong?'

The standing demon's voice took on an edge of uneasiness to suit the rest of his body. He knew it was in his best interest to give his master the entire truth; the man had an eerily keen eye for deception but, by all accounts, lacked a similar degree of leniency. Down to the last detail was how he was to deliver his report.

'Sir. It seems we miscalculated…'

An unnerving pause.

'How so?'

Still water ran deep. The low, measured voice of his master seemed to epitomize that phrase. The reply to his question was slow; words had to be chosen carefully.

'There were more demons in Higurashi's guard unit than we'd predicted.'

This delivered; the weaker demon paused to study his master's face, trying in vain to gauge a reaction of any sort. He understood then; after failing for the third time. It was in those ebony eyes that could have frozen a thousand raging fires, that he saw the reason as to why this man was feared by so many. And, like a deer stilled by the magnificence of the lights that would precursor its doom, the younger demon continued to stare, so entranced that he almost failed to hear his master's next statement.

'I trust she took care of them then.'

A hesitant nod.

'Good. Traitors like those deserve to have their blood spilt, but that is no excuse for your other mistakes.'

The younger demon seized his chance. Now was as good a time as any to deliver the worst of the news.

'I'm sorry sir…'

He was unprepared for the suddenness with which the voice of his master changed then. Laden with ice and threat, his next question was uttered so softly that he had to strain his ears to perceive it.

'I'll ask again. What went wrong?'

Fresh sweat formed itself on the lesser demon's forehead. It glistened in the moonlight. His master's disconcerting gaze lingered on him, stemmed from intense, cruel eyes that could peer into the depths of one's very soul. For a while he could do naught but stand frozen once more, locked in place by the obsidian orbs that stared him down until he could take no more and had to look away. The next part of the report was still to be delivered.

'S-she… she was injured. One of the demon bodyguards took a slice at her. The b-bastard's claws went clean through her suit-…'

'And so she bled. She's left a means by which they can track her by. Funny. I distinctly remember you saying that the suit could withstand any blow of anysort…'

'She was supposed to have avoided the hit! T-there was a lot of blood spilt that night! You shouldn't be concerned. It would be almost impossible to identify one individual's out of so many—'

'Unless of course the humans acquire the services of ones from the demon race. Say, dog demons for instance. Their sense of smell could detect her a mile away. Now they would be of most use in such a situation. Wouldn't you say?'

The demon leader started to rise from his seat with frightening grace that belied a great control over immense power. The young subordinate took a step back in fear, eyes darting frantically round for a means of escape.

'I assure you sir that it won't happen again. I won't fail a second time--'

The advancing figure ignored his words, intent on the delivery of his own speech.

'And whothat we know of are currently willingly offering their services to those human scum?'

The voice questioned slowly with false patience, as though he were talking to a small child. Its owner continued to close the distance between himself and the now quivering, underling.

'Please sir…'

The frightened demon backed up some more, his instincts urging him to place as much distance as was possible from the advancing figure; it seemed larger, darker, more imposing the closer it got. It held up a deceptively slender hand, counting bony fingers off as it spoke.

'There's Sesshoumaru Taisho, heir to the dog demon lordship and leader, might I add, to Sengoku Military's Demon faction which consists of an elite division under the charge of a miko…'

The utter impassiveness of the stronger demon's face served merely to accentuate the manic glint that had entered his obsidian eyes.

'…and there's also his scruffy little half-blood brother who, last time I checked was partof said elite division. Both of whom, if I've gotten my facts right, were sired by the late Inu Taisho. And both of whom, could potentially cause quite a bit of unnecessary trouble for one such as myself.'

When his back met cold concrete, the lesser demon froze, petrified. Wide eyes steadily lost focus, their pupils dilating with the sheer amount of fear their owner was experiencing.

'Exactly which part of that am I not supposed to be concerned about?'

The subordinate trembled. He could not speak for absolute terror of the man before him. It was just as well, for his demon master stood over him now, his eyes alone holding him in his place.

'Now tell me. How…'

Slender hands reached out to clasp the younger demon's face between them.

'…do you suppose…'

Dark head hovered in near his ear.

'…that you not screwing up a second time…'

Tendrils of ebony hair broke free from their constricted braid and fell forward past slim, yukata-clad shoulders.

'…is going to solve a problem like that?'

The younger demon saw then, the inevitable. He shut his eyes and, for a split second, almost fooled himself into believing that the hands lightly resting on either side of his head were there to give him the gentlest of caresses.

A choked whimper was all the warning to signal the sickening crushing of bone that would follow. The petite figure in the corridor outside stood unphased.


tbc...