It was her alright. Her scent confirmed it, but what his nose told him, his eyes and his aura did not accept.
Her black hair fell in lusterless waves down her back, and she was garbed in her usual attire of hardly anything. If possible, she looked thinner than she used to be. Her tear stained face was far more angular and through her bloodstained white shirt, the outline of her protruding rib cage was visible. She was filthy. Scrapes covered her legs, and dirt covered the scrapes. Infection was already beginning to set in. The one pure soul the world had been offered as a guiding light had been smothered.
She looked like a corpse apart from the unsteady rise and fall of her chest where her shirt clung to deep scores on her stomach and breasts. There was too much blood for it al to be her own, and indeed, some of it still retained a demonic aura, but her ghostly pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes proved evidence enough that much of it was hers.
It was the reek of blood that brought him to her, but her eyes were what kept him there.
Gods, her eyes. He almost expected them to glow. Voids of endless black, bloodshot and filled with what can only be described as an all consuming hatred, a voracious black fire fed by pain and fury. For everything. For everyone. For life. The shine of her pure energy that hid behind the surface of her eyes like a whispered secret was dead.
A glimmer of sadistic amusement flickered across his face, illustrated only by a slight twisting of his lips. He despised this repulsive human more than most, and he reveled in the continuation of this lovely little show he had been so lucky to chance upon. At the same time she unsettled him, and for that, he hated her all the more.
She sat slumped against a tree, staring into the distance. How easy it would be to kill her. How she deserves it, his half brothers whore. Disgusting. Her loyalty to him had obviously gotten her nowhere. It was no doubt what put her in the state she is now, and also what caused her to blatantly assault him so many times before this.
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. Her mere existence was insulting.
Somewhere in the recesses of his rational mind, he reminded himself that while this girl was the same in a physical sense, Inuyasha's wretch was very much already dead. This creature that lay before him had been stripped of all innocence, of all kindness, of all hope. Her aura reflected the internal burning sea of chaos ripping her apart, feeling much more demon than priestess.
Before he could even will his body into motion, the rapid dilating and focusing of her wide eyes caught his attention, sliding thickly in their sockets to lock on his face. An eerie grin spread across her face.
Chills snaked down his spine.
No, not a demon.
This creature was a monster.
"Sesshomaru-sama," her voice was poison, laced with a giddy form of cruelty that grated on his ears.
She stood, rolling her weight to one hip with exaggerated fluidity that made her look drunk. It was an act. Her legs were steady beneath her, one foot ahead of the other.
"What a coincidence that I meet you here." She hissed. "You know, I was just looking for someone to play with. With Naraku dead and all, I figured you'd be the next best thing."
He bristled and released a menacing growl. The girl was insane. She was just as fragile as she was before, just as human. Challenging him while wounded and alone was a death sentence. Without her spiritual powers, she was no more dangerous to him than a dying mouse.
"Aw, did I piss you off?" Her voice became a degrading whine. She let out a harsh cackle.
"Do not flatter yourself, wretch. You hold no power over this Sesshomaru's emotion."
"It speaks! And here I thought you were dumb and mute."
She hit the tree hard, his hand wrapped around her throat. One razor sharp claw glowing with acid remained poised over her carotid artery. If he pierced her skin, she'd be dead in minutes. To his utter bewilderment, she let out a wheezing laugh.
"No power, eh?" She taunted. He growled deep in his chest. She didn't even flinch.
"What's the matter?" She choked through the pressure he was putting on her throat. "Can't kill me?"
"Don't be a fool. Death would be a gift I do not intend to give." He snarled.
"Then why are you still here." Her disrespect knew no bounds.
"You will answer this Sesshomaru's questions."
"This Sesshomaru can kiss my ass." She whipped her knee up to catch him in the groin, but he was too fast. His grip changed on her neck as he used it to haul her over his head and slam her down on her back. The air knocked out of her, she heaved herself up into a sitting position, convulsing for a moment before dragging in a short labored gasp. A gasp that slowly rose into a shriek of laughter.
This disturbed him; truly, honestly disturbed him. The tang of blood was fresh in the air overwhelming his sense of smell. He had reopened her wounds.
"You try my patience, wretch."
She moved her body like she was a puppet with a palsy stricken puppeteer; constantly in sickly motion. Her head lolled to the side as she moved to stand again. She was wrong. Her existence was unnatural. But he would not be bested by this bitch. He brought the blunt side of Tokijin down hard on one of her shins, aiming for a massively infected cut and she collapsed, but did not cry out.
"Speak." He demanded. She shook on the ground before him holding her wounded leg. Her hair fell around her face, and she began to make an eerie broken noise. She swayed from side to side, her antics making him more and more uncomfortable, yet all he did was stand and watch, his stoic mask firmly in place.
She swayed towards him and caught herself with her hands. Her smirk rivaled his on the scale of creepy.
"I think," she giggled raising sinister eyes to meet his, "you're ready to play now, Sesshomaru-sama."
She lifted her hands, her smirk returning. He raised an eyebrow, feeling no impending surge of power. She had never been able to manifest her power in such a way before, why would she be able to now. She was obviously 'playing' with him, and he was not amused.
"Foolish hum…" The blast of energy caught him square in the chest and sent him reeling backwards. It felt like the filth of Naraku, but somehow different. He could tell this power was not hers, but neither was it that bloody hanyo. Tokijin pulsed madly in his hand, thrilled by the black power sizzling around them. It faded and then sparked out.
When the dust cleared, he noticed the immense power of the attack was divided and sent marginally to either side of him. He received only half the power the surrounding area had.
'That wench protected me.'
It was then he made himself a solemn vow. Once he got his answers, he would kill this bitch good and dead.
"BECAUSE THEIR DEAD, INUYASHA. THAT'S WHY."
"YOU DON'T…" he winced and gripped the bandage on his chest, "…you don't know that."
Tears streamed down the demon slayer's face, but her shaking voice was hard and cold.
"Miroku had a hole in his chest as big as my fist. All that was left of Kikyo was her bow and arrows. What makes you think Kagome will be ANY different?"
"BECAUSE…" he roared, his voice breaking.
"Because what?" She spat back.
"Forget it." He sniffed stubbornly and almost looked himself again. Sango fought the urge to pull away, and instead shrugged off the hurt. They needed each other if they were going to survive this. She touched his hand and met his amber gaze.
"Please?" She cajoled. He glared at her for a moment, his eyes laden with pain before heaving a huge sigh that melted his guarded expression and left him looking exhausted and vulnerable.
"Because I need to believe in something." He whispered brokenly. Sango's expression softened.
"You have plenty to believe in." He let out a harsh bark of resentful laughter.
"Like what, Sango?" His voice was instantly scathing. "What the hell do I have left if Kagome is dead? NOTHING. I have NOTHING left for me. Kikyo's dead and I spent my LIFE trying to get the Shikon Jewel, and for the past god knows how long, it's been my purpose to put it back together. And now it just up and disappears? So you tell me, Sango, what is my purpose if I've lost Kagome and my only chance at acceptance. Tell me, WHERE the HELL do I belong now?"
Red patches blossomed on his bandages, and he swore loudly. Sango was stunned into silence, and unable to think of an answer, she watched the fire crackle merrily. Silence settled around them. Kirara nuzzled Sango in a comforting gesture, stumbling as she climbed onto her lap. One of her gorgeous, bushy tails had been cut off making her unbalanced and unable to fly straight, but she had refused to be left behind.
Sango sighed and rested back against a tree, petting her loving companion softly. They had left Kaede's weeks ago in search of their missing friend, but it rained the night Naraku died and they waited two full days to start looking beyond the well and the village. They buried their dead, and mourned, and when they were finished they reeked so badly of tears, death and soil, any trail that could have been was long gone or too faint to find over the fresh, incredibly overpowering ones. They were wandering aimlessly, hoping to chance upon something or someone that had seen her.
Sango knew the search was hopeless. Why would Kagome leave them all in the first place? The pieces just didn't add up. But this was giving the two comrades something to do rather than face reality, something that was becoming exceedingly hard to ignore.
Sango had been so absorbed in her musings, and Inuyasha had been silent so long his voice startled her when he finally spoke again.
"She's alive." He promised as if reading her mind. "I can feel her." Sango smiled bitterly after a moment.
"I sincerely hope you're right."
'I don't know what we'll do if you're not out there somewhere, Kagome-chan.' She silently added before curling around Kirara and falling into a fitful sleep.
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