Reflection
Part One/Sango
It's predictable, the way they clash. She is forever a taijiya, and he, a demon. Such little words that define them, yet force them to come to blows upon their first encounter.
It's vengeance that she vows when he defeats her with little effort. Her skills, as much as she hates to admit it, are not up to par with his speed and power. With an arrogant smirk, he tosses her backward and tells her not to waste his precious time in the future. He only takes on real opponents.
She hunts, from that moment on. Anger courses through her at her own weakness and the words he's left behind. She takes on any demon enemy she can, honing her abilities and increasing her strength. Her senses are always alert for a certain fire apparition's presence.
It's difficult, finding him again. She tracks him for weeks at a time, lying low as she follows his demon energy and searches for other signs of him when she cannot feel his presence any longer. A few corpses here and there are all she needs to know that she is continuing in the right direction. She's gotten to know his handiwork well; she's able to tell which creatures had the ill fortune of getting on the wrong side of the fire demon, and which have fallen through other means.
She's unsure, whether it's luck or talent that lets her come across him time and time again. The results never differ. There are moments when she believes she has the upper hand, but it's fleeting, and he's sure to dominate again after a mere second of uncertainty.
She's persistent. No matter how many times he leaves her bruised and bleeding, she simply patches herself up and hunts him once more. Relentless, that's what she is. She refuses to stop until she has her victory. There is nothing else left.
It bothers her, that he has not tried to kill her yet. Her desire was not to die, but from the little he has spoken as they fought, she knows he holds no fondness for humans. He leaves her exhausted and barely able to move after each fight, but leaves her intact nonetheless. She knows she must be nothing other than a nuisance to him, but for a reason unknown, she is a nuisance he allows to live.
She's frightened, when a minor error in tracking the apparition leads her into a nest of high-classed demons. She tells herself firmly that she is not scared, that she is calm and confident, but her hands that tremble ever so slightly as she clutches the strap of Hiraikotsu betray her. By their sheer numbers alone, she knows this is a fight she cannot win. But if she were to fall, it would be fighting, taking as many of her opponents down with her.
He shocks her, showing up as he does. A slash across her stomach has sent her stumbling backward and she tries to regain balance, but there is no doubt in her mind that the next blow would come and kill her before she has a chance. But he is there, parrying the attack and hacking the demon to pieces with a quickness she can't even follow beyond a few flashes of light.
He saves her, though she sees no reason why he should. The demons are strong; not as powerful as he, she knows, but as a whole they are quite formidable adversaries. While she does what she can to assist him, her injuries hinder her and the battle takes a great deal out of the fire demon, she can tell.
It's surprising, how drowsy he appears after every last one of the demons are slashed apart. He seems to fight the sleep that struggles to take over, but it's a losing battle. She lurches forward without meaning to when he fall to the ground. Her throat suddenly feels dry as she goes on her knees beside him. She simply inquires as to why. As his eyes flutter closed, he tells her that there would be no honor or glory in it if she slays him now. Her heart skips a beat, though she doesn't know why.
He knows her, better than she would have thought given their numerous, yet limited interactions. For anyone to allow themselves to be so vulnerable in the presence of someone who has repeatedly tried to destroy them, it requires one of two things: trust, which she highly doubts is the cause in this situation, or an understanding of the other person. He must know that in these circumstances, she would never dream of harming him. And more than that, she would protect him if another threat appears. Not only because she would never be satisfied or forgive herself for such a cheap and vulgar way to beat him (and she certainly would not allow another demon the pleasure of the kill she has claimed as hers), but he has also just saved her and it would be dishonorable to end his life now.
She smiles, unable to deny the small tug of her lips upward, no matter how small. For once, there was nothing else hidden in the display. No bittersweet side or sadness to it, it is just pure.
He looks peaceful, lying there as he does. Of all the words she thought she might ever use to describe the ill-tempered demon, peaceful is not one of them. But it is the only way to describe it. He appears tranquil now that he is not scowling and glaring at her, spitting out insults he knows will get under her skin. More than that though, he looks… young.
She reaches out, letting her hand brush away the bangs that fall over his closed eyes. She feels herself soften. Young indeed, and she wonders why she has not noticed before. His hair is fine like most demons' are, but the fact does not stop the slight surprise as her fingers run through it. Her fingertips ghost over his face, feather light for fear of waking him, though he appears to be deeply sleeping. She's not entirely sure what it is she is doing, but she finds herself mesmerized by him in this serene state.
It's on instinct that she bends down and presses a kiss against his mouth. Even knowing that he's a being of fire, she expects him to taste of ice. He doesn't. His lips are soft and startlingly warm. His heat transfers to her by their joined flesh, creeping across her face and spreading into her chest. It makes her feel alive. Safe.
She jerks away, realizing exactly what it is she is doing. She feels her cheeks burning as she scrambles away from him, but she does not leave even though she desperately wants to. She can't abandon the demon in this state. And so she waits until he awakens later and without so much as a glance his way, disappears as swiftly as she can.
She keeps her distance, trying to sort out her muddled thoughts. She is still unsure of why she brushed her lips against his. The mere memory causes a blush to stain her face and at the same time, it angers her. And what's worse, it is no longer he that she resents, for now the irritation is brought upon herself.
It's puzzling, how he slowly begins to appear to her more often without her having to seek him out. It has become impossible to keep away from the apparition as she tries to rifle through her own mess. Sometimes he comes to fight, which she gladly accepts and gives her all, using the conflict to push all other thoughts away. But there are other times he comes and shadows her from above. She becomes accustom to it after awhile, her eyes absentmindedly scanning the treetops from time to time, always anticipating the sight of a fire apparition flittering away as soon as she gazes upward.
She understands, bit by bit, more about him with each passing day. The rare times that their weapons did not clash, she finds herself quietly observing and evaluating him. She starts to see the pain that lurks beneath the surface and the insecurities as well. Her want to fight lessens with each meeting and in its place is a desire to know him more, to get closer. And for that reason, she keeps herself further away from the demon as he returns time after time to spar.
It's laughable, how much she's grown to love him in such a short period of time. She tells herself differently and tries so hard not to, but it is there whether she is willing to face it or not. He plagues her thoughts, his scarlet eyes a clear memory that is instinctively summoned each time she closes her eyes to sleep. She can't help but feel drawn to him; to the power he radiates with, yet the pain and self-loathing as well. She wants to be beside him. She wants to heal him. She wants to love him, even if a part of her tries to deny it. And above all else, a quiet whisper in her mind tells her she wants to be loved by him.
And it hurts, how much he doesn't care.