A/N: Greetings everyone! Sorry for the long wait but life gets in the way most of the time. Quick note here before you read this, I changed the way the story flowed a lot and some of the new content might upset you. I won't change the way I set it. Turn back if you get disturbed easily this is a dark fic meaning the likely chance nice fluffy happy stuff will happen is zero to nil. The warnings are set below so don't complain I didn't warn you.
Wakizashi: a sidearm sword Samurai used when the katana was unavailable.
Title: A Miko and a Youkai
Author: Adorkablebanana
Genre: Crossover (IY/YYH), dark, angst, gore, hentai, sexual situations, incest implications, general.
Rating: R
Summary: By a ray of coincidence a certain youkai stumbles across something or someone that might change everything. DarkHiei/Kagome.
Prologue- The beginning of the end
"Stating a man can change over night by impulse is saying the world is all respected in all rights square."
- Lady Lucia del la Rose.
The wax moon reached the evening's pinnacle point where the dark hour of the early morning breached toward the next day, not a sparkling star dotted the pitch black sky. In the forest the creatures and the plant life itself stilled for the final moment the last exquisite breath left her aching lungs.
'I will be waiting…' the last thought slurred off into obscurity whilst the entire substance of manifestation her physical pain and emotional fear clipped the instant her life ended, the last step to the end was blissful.
The sole regret she feared before she met her fate, this ironic bittersweet fate, rested in the unknown destiny her infant's life will lead in his clutches. She ached for the future of her little Akako and even more Kane's very existence.
The wakizashi sunk deeper in her ruptured chest cavity the blade's tip ripping through the delicate cluster in her spine's structure. The raw image of scarlet spilling in thick pools around her beaten beautiful corpse, his tight grip on the wakizashi's handle loosen his claw streaked hand falling limply to his side.
He stared down at the heavy duty product of his sadism and rage scattered all over the crimson soaked grass. He hesitated before kneeling beside the mutilated corpse of the beautiful woman and his hands cupped her cold pale face. "You are mine, you will always be mine…" he whispered harshly, brushing his dry lips over her bloody, cold lips.
He pulled back to push her blonde curly strands off her lovely roughened face. "I refused to share you with any other man, Izuru," he said almost gently. He calmly reached for her severed hand lying across from her under the stained bundle of silver feathers torn from her wings.
He carved the characters for love using the very sharp claws on her fingertips engraving it on her forehead. The instant he finished a blinding light shone from the far corner of the sky, to his disappointment this signaled his job's completion and as far as he could possibly go he fled leaving behind the cracked shell of the woman who he once called his wife.