Authors note: I do not own Inuyasha. Also I might have spelt some things wrong I am sorry. If I have please tell me so that I may fix it. I have no clue what the pairings will be. Also I bet you know who's POV this is. If you don't it will be made clear in the later chapters. I hope you like it and enjoy!

An old picture that still hangs in our office. I still look at it sometimes. It calls to me. I haven't touched it in 100 years. Funny when I was younger I would always look at the old cloth that covers it. My father forbid me to ever look at it. He said not until I entrust it to you will your eyes ever see it. Even though I have had it for over 200 years now I still have yet to take the cloth off of it. Something inside of me told me that what was on it, held so many secrets that my mind would go mad trying to unfold them.

"Sir!" said a blue colored ogar that has been under my service since I was first given this position. "What is it?" I stat while I give him my full attention. "Well you see I was wondering what was under that cloth over on that wall. Well, it has been here ever since I started working for you. And, it is, well I have never seen it." As he was saying this I noticed him rubbing the back of his head. Giving off the impression that he was nervous asking this question.

"I know I have never looked at it either." I found myself yet again gazing at it. Such a foreign thing. Jumping off of my chair I stroll over to it. My little hands slowly raised up to grab a hold of the now old and tattered cloth. My hand stops in hesitation. Do I really want to look at it? I use to always wonder what it looked like. But soon I forgot all about it. Leaving it in the corner on the floor. As if a forgotten object. But something wasn't right. Me becoming so interested in it must mean that it is time to gaze upon it.

In one fast motion I pulled off the cloth. Dust flying everywhere, burning my lunges when I breathed. What I saw froze me in my very spot. I couldn't move. It was horrible but yet held this beauty. The frame of the canvas was a worn down gold color with little engravings in it. But that is not what holds me in place like a deer caught in headlights.

It was the beautiful but grotesque scene before me. On the painting was that of a bloody battle. Corpses line all over the ground. Some with no heads and some so bloody and torn apart that you couldn't tell what they were. The bodies were that of humans and demons. I could tell that what was once a beautiful clearing was now the remains of a horrid battle.

The only living thing that was in the picture was that of a women standing in the middle of the carnage. Her head held up high as if looking at the night sky. But her eyes were closed. And a single tear fell down her creamy white skin. She had blood all over her body and some of it was on her face. She was adorned with a battle kimono. The colors of it you could no longer tell. It was covered in blood and dirt. Her hair was matted and bloody and fell down the back of her back.

She wore armor around her upper body and around her shoulders. Armor that didn't cover much but gave enough movement to battle in. Her arms were hanging lose at her sides. But in one hand held loosely but firm enough so it wouldn't fall was a sword, covered in blood. The sword was barley touching the ground. As if trying to kiss the only green spot in the clearing.

The way she held her body was as if she was tired and the sadness came off of her in waves. It was as if I too could feel the sorrow and the despair that she had felt. Even though the picture was painted with night all around the battlefield. There was a small glow to her, like she held great power.

I still couldn't move or breath, like I was waiting for her to open her eyes and look at me. I could almost have sworn that I was standing there and looking at her like this painter had seen with his own two eyes. She must have been a great warrior and respected person. For the painter to have put so much detail and emotion into it. I could tell right away that this was a battle of great proportion.

My eyes slowly went to the metal object at the bottom of the painting. It was positioned right on the top of the frame. It had engravings on it. And what it said had not only taken my breath away again with surprise, but also of shock.

"The battle of the Jewel of four souls. This picture is for all the fallen warriors that fought so hard. But also in honor of the great miko who won over the evil. May she rest in peace. The one and only pure soul in the darkness. "

Could this be the battle that my father talked about? The battle against the truest form of evil? And this was the legendary Miko that had won the battle. Who was she?

There you go that is the story thus far! I hope that you like it! This is my first crossover so be gentle. It maybe a little vague right now. But you will soon know the story plot. I hope you like!