Twice, she refused his help.
I.
She had been fighting. For how long he wasn't sure. He had propped himself into a tree and watched her swing her bow in silvery arcs, like unfurling butterfly wings. The family of snake youkai she had unearthed from an underground cavern slithered and hissed around her like a body of living water. And though she was incredibly—unbelievable—strong and they were equally stupid, there were thousands bursting from the hole, black and slippery like spilled ink.
He debated with himself quietly, and at last came to the conclusion she wasn't going to make it.
"Need any help?" he grated out of a throat not used to speaking.
Suddenly, a bright light filled his vision and on instinct he dropped backward from the branch he was on. He flipped and landed on his feet as the trunk of the tree burst into pieces and tumbled to the ground. His sharp eyes spied a tiny speck of feathers buried deep in the trunk, fluttering tauntingly in the breeze.
He threw her a glance. She was still fighting the youkai steadily, not a moment of her concentration broken. Baring his teeth at her, he patted the saw dust from his clothes and walked away.
II.
She was drawing water from the well, making great arcs with the wheel lever. The sleeves of her hakui were rolled up around her shoulders, revealing smooth alabaster skin. She was certainly strong—she had to be, if she could draw such a large bow—but her arms looked deceptively small and thin. Perhaps because he was so far away. Unconsciously, he took a step forward.
"You are scaring the villagers." She spoke up so suddenly that he had taken three steps back before he realized she was speaking to him. There was a brief moment where he was unsure of what to do with himself, but he quickly shook the feeling from him and leaned nonchalantly against a tree. He said nothing, however.
She was pulling steadily on the turning wheel. He watched interestedly as the fabric of her hakui bunched and smoothed at her gentle movements. His eyes lingered on the tensed cords of muscle in her neck. He wondered if she was having a hard time of it.
In a moment, the bucket of water appeared, sloshing water over its rim. She secured the lever in its thong and efficiently unhooked the bucket. Her face was serene, but he could see the bulge of muscles under that fair skin. She was strong—but how strong was she?
When she set the bucket on the well rim and wiped the bangs from her face, she finally turned her gaze upon him. He became aware instantly of the depth and the stark alien coldness of her eyes, imperious and unsympathetic.
"Well?" She asked. "You haunt the forests around our village, scaring the rice croppers into their homes, and you give no explanation, no indication of your intentions." When he did not even twitch, her eyes narrowed. "I am warning you now. Leave, or I will put an end to you."
He cocked his head. "And if I say now?"
She drew up sharp. "What?"
"If I indicate my intentions now, what then?"
She was silent, and though her face didn't express it, he knew she was puzzled. He pulled himself from the tree and with slow, deliberate motions walked to the well. She tensed as he stood within in three feet of her, but he merely picked up the bucket like it was weightless and held it out to her.
She eyed him coldly, which prompted him to add, "I mean no harm."
At that she made a derisive sound, surprising them both. For a moment she looked troubled before her face dissolved into irritation and she snatched the bucket from his hand. He grinned unashamedly as a large amount of water sloshed out at the movement.
It took her a moment to reorient herself, which he found even more amusing, but when she did she gave him a look of pure disdain.
"I don't need the help of a youkai," she said coldly, then turned away. The bucket remained steady as she followed the path to her village. He watched her disappear with a quiet satisfaction.
"Much stronger than she looks," he decided to no one in particular. Curiosity sated, he slunk away.
Twice, she needed his help and refused to ask.
I.
The building was on fire and she was stuck within it, grappling with a dragon youkai. It was trying to breath fire from its four-nostril-snout at her, and she was barely holding it at bay with the length of her bow. Her fingers were slippery with sweat and couldn't grasp the slick feathers of a fallen arrow mere meters from her pinned body.
This time, her attention was truly preoccupied and she didn't notice when he entered the room at a crouch, his sleeve over his nose. He spotted her and the demon through the haze of smoke, and with a startlingly clear decision, he leaped and hurled his shoulder into the youkai's tender neck. It keened with an awful noise and flew with a crunch into the opposite wall.
She sat up, her face and hair black with ash, and turned furious eyes on him. "What are you doing?"
"Get your arrow," he said, eyes locked on the enraged demon pulling itself from the wall. There was a split moment of indecision in her body, but the moment passed and fluidly she rolled to her feet just as the demon lunged towards them, claws gleaming and mouth steaming with smoke. He felt, rather than saw, the arrow whizzing by him, so close that it split his cheek. But the arrow found its mark; the dragon heart. He only had a moment to fling himself on top of her before the youkai exploded into a ball of flame.
When the searing heat passed, he looked up to see pieces blown high from the blast raining down on them. He would have stayed exactly where he was if she had not planted her hands on his chest and pushed him with a small crackle of energy. He landed with a surprised thump a few feet away.
"What was that for?" he asked angrily.
She was on her feet, shoulders tense. She opened a mouth white with fury, but then forcibly closed it. When it became apparent she was refusing to reply, he bristled and crouched down on his knees, patting at the ash on his haori.
"I thought you were stronger than this," he said scathingly.
The veneer of chilliness snapped, and her face flushed with anger. He almost stepped back when she rounded on him. "I didn't need your help!"
He returned her glare. "Oh yeah? Because it sure looked like you had everything under control. "
"I would have been fine," she hissed.
"You would have been dead."
Her face closed up instantly, and he knew that he had gone too far. She took a threatening step forward. "Get out."
"Gladly." He spit on the ground. "This was a thankless waste of my time anyway."
He walked away, determined to resume his pursuit of the jewel.
II.
He knew the moment before the rock shifted that she was going to fall. It wasn't till moments after he had caught her that he realized it would have been better for him if she had actually hit the ground.
"I didn't intend this," he growled at her. Securing her body more firmly in his arms, he leapt higher up the cliff, finding purchase on small ledges and crevices in the stone.
She stiffened in his arms. "Certainly. I've wasted enough of your precious time."
He bit down on his tongue, afraid he would lose his temper all together and throw her down the ravine himself, but instead he made a higher leap and reached the ledge from which she had fallen. He dropped her unceremoniously, and she landed with a surprised cry.
"There," he sneered. "All safe now. Start watching where you step because next time I will not be there to catch you."
Ready to leap back where he had come, he was inexplicably surprised when she cried "Wait!" He turned, bewildered, to see her straightening to her feet and patting the dust off her hakama. Her expression was distinctly uncomfortable. After a moment, she found nothing more to straighten or pat that hadn't already been attended to and so she fixed her eyes at some point behind his shoulder and said nothing.
They stood like that for quite some time until he had enough.
"What?" he bit out.
She stiffened at his tone, but then after an agonizing moment, composed herself. Still, she refused to look at him.
"That—" she stopped, swallowed, then continued. "That was uncalled for on my part. You saved my life and you certainly didn't need to. I—I apologize."
He blinked and looked at her fully for the first time in months. Her face was thin, fragile. Her hands were papery. There were blue veins visible beneath her skin. It was only her eyes that were fierce, those dark beautiful eyes that resented and fumed.
She was dying.
The jewel, he thought.
She took a breath, and he realized he had been staring. "That is all I wanted to say," she said. "Now you may go."
This time, it was she who turned and walked away, leaving him speechless.
And she still had not thanked him.
Once, she begged.
"Inuyasha, will you be human for me?" Hope, doubt, fear, longing suffused her face, and to hide it she turned away.
Yes. He would have said anything to take those trembling hands in his and wipe away the vulnerability she was so ashamed of displaying.
But he was not there.
"Kikyou," Naraku said softly, caressing her figure with envious eyes. "What makes you think you have the right to ask?"