Things were going well for Kagome. If she had been told a year ago that she would end up 500 years in the past living peacefully in a village, killing monstrous youkai in her spare time and helping the love of her life, a hanyou with soft ears and a softer heart, she would have assumed, naturally, that the person who told her was on crack and should be locked away before they hurt themselves.
Things were great since the death of Naraku, of course, but sometimes she still missed her family. It had been a couple of weeks since she'd left and they'd snuck up on her in her moments alone. She'd known though that the well would remain closed behind her and had prepared a little. She wondered if the photo, wilted in her hand, would show up in some museum hundreds of years into the future. Her family stared up at her.
This well had started everything for her, she placed her hand on the ledge, inhaling the scent of wood and the outdoors around her, the grainy texture warm under her fingers. She felt a flare go off up her spine suddenly. Whirling around she could hear the whistling explosion come near her, purple flames hurling themselves out, rolling and searing at the air.
Her voice trembled, a keen of her love's name leaving her mouth through her teeth but it was swallowed too quickly by the roaring purple and she fell backwards over the edge of the well. She had no time to think, and when she opened her mouth to scream the purple was surrounding her, the deep baritone of a voice too familiar whispering in her ears, pulsing through her. It was as if she could feel all the blood in her veins.
Useless, worthless, hopeless. Scent and vision swirled around her in a kaleidoscope of color and sensation, all her greatest fears rising up to swallow her.
Chanting of familiar platitudes, of first love and death defeated by love, of innocence and making the right decision, of darkness constantly fought against, as something inside her reached out bodily to help the hanyou, something ingrained and hard to forget, Kikyou coursing through her. The feeling of her very soul being ripped out, a pain unlike anything physical, dark and alone, waiting in that well, stuck in her own personal hell and praying to be saved.
He'd chosen Kikyou. How smart of him not to have fallen for the copy-cat. A pale imitation that had missed her mark. She'd given him what he'd wanted. She'd been selfless and good, had wished on the jewel to save Kikyou, and restored their hopeless romance. She'd set everything right. It should have made her feel good, but she missed her special relationship with Inuyasha. At least she could finally go home. The story was rearranged and made straight for dark purposes. Her darkness was highlighted for easy corruption, and she was rendered useless so that Naraku could come back.
He hadn't done nothing for the 50 years Inuyasha had been sleeping.