Thank you for the hits! Finals are over, and I'm home at last; updates should be regular and rather quick from now one.
When Sango regained consciousness, it was to such a powerful instinct to run for her life that she just barely prevented herself from following it.
Because, with awareness came the instant memory of just how she'd been knocked out- and that memory was nothing but the picture of her pacifistic, smiling, dear monk- standing there with eyes glinting in a chilling light of bloodlust, and his mouth twitched into a hungry, feral snarl.
Stabbing Inuyasha. Aiming the Kazanna at them. Sword held as naturally as an extension of his arm, dripping with blood...
The terror tinted memory turned red with sheer, unadulterated rage- and all fear vanished.
Her fists clenched.
Kirara, with Kagome; her katana, back at the campsite, abandoned; Hiraikotsu, forcibly left behind... it didn't matter. Weaponless? Then she would tear apart the demon that had taken up refuge inside her monk with her own two hands.
Your monk, Sango? Yours? He is betrothed to you, and you to him, but that makes him yours, now? And knowing that lecher, he'll find a pretty woman soon to bear his child regardless of what he said to you... he needs an heir, after all...
Flushing furiously at her own thoughts, Sango shook her head at herself and made herself focus. What was wrong with her- thinking about such things now? This had been exactly what Miroku had been afraid of! Allowing something to develop in between them, and that something would progress to the point where it could distract them even when there was a demon right in front of them.
What was important now was getting that monster out of Miroku. Anything else was immaterial.
Sango forced herself to open her eyes, nerves still tight and anger still rising.
Miroku- or, whatever was inside him right now, at any rate- stood with his back to her, staff lying abandoned on the ground, sword by his side. She had been left on the dirt as well, her face inches away from a struggling growth of brown, straggly weeds, and she winced at the sight, pulling away. Her hands had been left free, and she quickly raised them into a defensive position, for all the good it would do her, and glared at the demon's back. "What do you intend to do with me, youkai?!" she snapped, ready to dodge at any moment. "Why did you take me?!"
Hardly seeming surprised that she was awake, he merely waved dismissively in her direction, not even turning his head towards her. "All in due time, human," he murmured casually, head still bowed. The demon paused, sword leaning against his shoulder, then cleared his throat. "I've got some business to take care of. If I return, and you have left, then I will depart for another vessel, and your precious monk will die. Keep that in mind, human." The threat sounded idle, absentminded; a casual afterthought for him in parallel as a heart stopping death threat to her, and Sango remained frozen on the ground as the demon reached for the monk's staff, preparing to leave.
What happened next made Sango cry out and recoil, eyes shielded from the blinding light, and the demon's hand curled frozen in mid air- palm scorched raw.
Miroku's staff had expanded in a glow of white energy so intense she could feel the heat from several feet away, reacting against the demon trying to touch it with a holy barrier so powerful he was unable to even breach it. It glowed there even now, sizzling in a protective shield ofstunning strength, the holy and spiritual power so bright it was blinding.
She stared, utterly speechless.
The demon withdrew an inch, hand hovering just outside the protective barrier- features, an indescribable cast of frustration. "What, he's got sutras in the staff, too?" he muttered, turning his burned hand over in calm introspection. "Paranoid twit." The demon pulled his arm back, shaking his long sleeve over the burns alongside another growl of annoyance.
Calmly, he brought one sandled foot down through the barrier to plant it against the staff. The burning of flesh was horrifying against her ears and Sango gasped, kneeling in shock as the demon withstood the scalding barrier without even flinching.
He splintered the staff in half with a single stomp, and in the same breath, that barrier dispersed in a defeated deflation of light. "Thing was worthless anyway," he murmured under his breath, rotating his burned ankle a few times before he carelessly turned his back, proceeding away down the hill without a second glance.
Sango covered her mouth with a shaking hand, staring after him and finding herself left completely without words.
From behind, the careless, cruel shadow of features she knew so well was disguised, and he looked no different from the monk she cared for.
Then, unbidden, her eyes were torn away from Miroku, and towards what he had left behind.
His staff lay there innocently on the ground, two, broken halves of something that was as much a staple of Miroku as his Kazanna and his lecherous habits, and to see it lying there, no longer whole, left behind simply as unneeded remains...
She was reminded, horribly so, of how Inuyasha had first believed Kikyo to have fallen, when Naraku had sent the dead priestess into his river of miasma. All that had been left behind of her had been the two halves of her bow.
That had been enough to convince him.
And, even now, as she watched Miroku walk silently down the hill and to the village below, the broken staff left behind said everything that words could not.
"Houshi-sama..." she breathed, shaking from the pain of it, and moved to kneel next to the staff, touching one end of it reverently.
Her heart broke.
Houshi-sama...
As crushing as the defeat that tried to encompass her now was, though- there was also a problem.
That barrier had been almost identical to the prayer bead's rejection of the spirit inside Miroku's body. However, the demon had clearly been able to touch the staff before now, no matter how well Miroku had tried to protect it against evil spirits. It made sense, to be sure, that the prayer beads would've been charmed stronger than his staff- but even assuming its protection was weaker than that which sealed his Kazanna, why did it affect him now when it hadn't before?
She ran a hand over the cool metal, thinking hard.
If the charms on this to ward against demons weren't as strong as the ones on his prayer beads, it only led her to assume that the demon in Miroku was losing a tolerance or resistance that he had to them only last night- losing it quickly. Most demons that had a resistance to such sacred objects usually did it through brute strength alone; a sutra that might destroy a weaker demon would disintegrate if some foolhardy priest tried to slap it on, say, Sesshomaru. But it didn't make any sense that the demon's life force would degenerate so quickly over night- especially since he didn't seem to be weakening in the slightest.
She frowned again.
This wasn't a typical demon. This was a possession- a possession by an extremely strong and experienced spirit. And that sword was used as a medium. It was very clear now that Miroku had been targeted from the start; the 'traveler' had handed Miroku, specifically, that sword, and from there on, the spirit seemed to have had complete access to try and take up residence inside him.
Trepidation rising, Sango grimaced. It sounded rather like a Tessou- or, a Soul Stealer.
It wasn't something she had ever come across herself, but her father had spoken briefly of them. They existed as immortal spirits without a tangible form- latching onto inanimate objects instead. Once the proper rituals had been performed, the demon and the object were linked- the only way to kill the demon was to destroy the object. Of course, because no creature, human or youkai, would be content to live inanimate, they took to possessing humans.
However, in contrast to most possessions, this was meant to be long term. Most demons, whenever they deigned to possess a mortal, did so brutally and violently, so as to immediately take complete control. Their host did not last long.
But, they already knew that this demon had taken its time with Miroku. It had hidden in the sword until it was sure of uninterrupted hours on end in which to assault its unwilling host, and even then, when Inuyasha had found out and attacked, he still had yet to take complete control.
Also, in most possessions, the body remained human until it was discarded, and the demon came out. And yet, Miroku had been able to hold his own against Inuyasha's brute strength and impossible, demon borne speed. That suggested the Tessou had, even as early as last night, begun to enhance Miroku's body to become less of a human's, and more of a demon's.
She gasped- disgust and horror rising together in a terrible blow that left her speechless.
Of course... that was it.
Last night, he hadn't been as far along in that transition. Capable of matching Inuyasha for only a short while and producing miasma- but that had seemed to be the limit of his abilities. But now, he had to have proceeded further along in the transition. And the further we progressed, the more sensitivity he would have to sacred objects.
That was why Miroku's staff had only now rejected him.
She looked miserably down at the forlorn pieces of his staff, then down towards the village the Tessou had disappeared into. "Sorry, Houshi-sama," she murmured, closing her eyes. "...I'm sorry."
Clinical detachment shattered as quickly and abruptly as it had come. Sango bowed her head, shoulders trembling, and choked back a sob, fist clenched so tight around one half of the staff it hurt.
She had her own experience with possession. She knew how terrifying it felt. How sudden and immediate that loss of control was... the realization that he suddenly was locked in the back of his mind, held there by some invisible and omnipresent force that slowly choked back everything until he could not even breathe...
Sango would never have wished that hell on even her worst enemy.
Now Miroku was trapped in it- and with Inuyasha absent, she was his only way out.
She shut her eyes with a gasp, biting into her lip so hard it bled. The responsibility weighed impossibly heavy as iron on her shoulders, leaving her doubled over on herself and shaking. That uncaring monster in him now- god, he had to be terrified... and he was aware, she realized in horror; he'd managed to throw off the Tessou enough to warn Inuyasha. He was just as aware as she had been during her ordeal, if not even more so.
"Houshi-sama," she whispered, voice breaking. "God, Houshi-sama..."
Sango shut her eyes and forced a breath, fighting as hard as she could to tamp down on the ruthless terror tearing her apart from the inside out. The idea of what he was enduring right at this very moment was almost more than she could bear- but she couldn't accept it. She could not listen to the hellish nightmare growing in her mind now; letting it consume her would be the worst thing that she could do.
Miroku had been wary of growing closer to her for precisely this reason. If she let herself be distracted by the thought of what he was fighting through now, be dragged down by the crushing responsibility and the fear that she would fail and the sympathy for his pain- that would only slow her down. He had fought for her without fear until he saved her; if she couldn't handle fighting for him now...
One more long, unsteady breath later, Sango opened her eyes again.
"I will save you, Houshi-sama," she whispered, bowing her head in resolute determination. "I don't know how yet. But I promise. I will."
Her hands trembling, she swiftly reached for the two fragments of his staff and began to dig. She hid them in a shallow grave, covering them with dirt and leaves, then quickly bowed her head in silent prayer over the remains of his weapon, the same way she had seen him do for the countless victims of Naraku and other demons that he had laid to rest. Including, she knew, her own family and village.
She had never truly thanked him for that.
Given the Tessou's threat, Sango had no way to fight until he'd returned. She could not risk leaving to go against him now only for him to make good on his threat to kill Miroku.
The outburst of screaming from the village, however, forced a change of plan.
Sango sat bolt upright at the first cry of terror, staring down towards the village in alarm. The second one had her on her feet, reaching for the knife hidden in her arm guard, her heart pounding. The third had her taking off in a run, the warning the Tessou had given her entirely ignored.
She wasn't running away. She was running to him.
Miroku, god... what are you making him do, Tessou?!
The screams continued as she ran and she only pushed herself faster, weapon hidden in her kimono, unable to stop her mind from racing on and imagining all sorts of terrible nightmares of possibilities. Screams like that, she had heard far too many times in her work as a demon slayer and her time with Inuyasha.
Demons, attacking a village... monsters, bring a clawed hand through an innocent's throat...
And even more recently- it had meant Kohaku.
Kohaku, attacking those who had only made the mistake of standing in front of him.
It's destroyed Kohaku, to be made to do such things. If... if that is what the Tessou is making Houshi-sama do...
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sango ran even faster.
The stench of blood was heavy on the air, and no matter the fact that she had long since become accustomed it, its likely cause turned her stomach. The screams of terror and despair grew only louder, and she whispered another apology to Miroku as she ran, heart breaking.
First Kohaku, now Miroku... I'm sorry, both of you. I'm so sorry.
At last, she reached the scene- only to stumble to a halt, frozen in horror.
Devastation. Sheer devastation.
Everywhere she turned, there was death, and with it, suffering, the signs of it both obvious, undeniable, and small, subtle. From a black trail of blood leading from the door of a silent home to the gutted body of a farmer left behind in the middle of the road... everywhere she turned... everywhere she looked...
My god. Houshi-sama...
Sango covered her mouth, staring in wordless horror at the disaster that awaited her inside the village. She had only left him alone for ten minutes at the most... for it to have gotten this bad, so quickly...
The only solace, terrible though it was, was that not everyone had been killed.
The Tessou seemed to have moved carelessly, indiscriminately; slicing his sword with every turn that he made, and if the wound left behind was not fatal, he did not care enough to turn back and finish the job. She could see those injured; some fatally so, but many more that were not, slumped in pain against the sides of old, ruined homes or, those few that were able, running for their lives. This had been a senseless slaughter in every sense of the word- done purely for his own perverse enjoyment.
Shaking, Sango stumbled forward another step, staring numbly at the graveyard that the demon had reduced the village to. She wanted to throw up.
Possibly the only thing that stopped her was the tiny, cold hand that came to grip her ankle.
She gasped, in her alert state any unexpected touch enough to make her jump a mile. She withdrew her knife only by instinct, moving back from the unknown- then found herself rooted the spot by nothing more than sadness.
There was a little girl at her feet.
A little, bloody girl.
She couldn't be more than fix or six, but she lay there now, limp and cold already, her wet eyes hazy but still retaining enough focus to just stare up at her without words. She couldn't talk, because her throat had been cut.
One long- yet excruciatingly shallow- cut. Long enough to insure death- shallow enough to ensure that it took time.
Sango dropped to her knees like a puppet that had had its strings cut.
There was nothing that could be done for her. She'd surely already lost too much blood; her pale kimono was covered in it and the hand that still held on to her ankle was wet and dripping in red. Even her boots squelched in the blood soaked ground, and Sango stared down at the child with tears in her eyes, scarcely able to breathe.
To the Tessou, this had probably been no more than a careless flick of his arm. Something he'd barely even cast a thought towards. Just flick, slice through skin as butter, onto the next victim... he may not even have seen her.
And now, those wide, terrified eyes still stared up at hers, tears streaming weakly down her drained cheeks. They looked to her in a long, silent pleading. A request that she did not have the energy or ability to speak- but that Sango heard still, plain as day.
Don't leave.
Please, don't leave.
All she could offer was a person to hold her hand as she died. That was it. No possibility of life, not even any easing of pain. Just someone there so she didn't die alone.
Utterly numb, Sango sat back against the bloody ground, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded once.
She didn't think she wanted to be the kind of person who could refuse a look like that- for Miroku or not.
The end came swiftly. As shallow as the cut may have been, the child was just too small to take much more of it- the blood loss or the suffering. Sango held her hand as she died, and as such, she felt her little heart fight and try to hang on, she felt it slow- and, she felt it stop. She couldn't help a sob when the girl's gaze shifted from staring at her to staring through her and, in utter despair, Sango folded the girl's cold arms over her chest and bowed her head again in a silent prayer.
Please, whatever gods or spirits that may exist, give this girl the mercy she missed in death. Give her soul peace.
When the screams started again, Sango had no choice but to follow. But the blood from the child remained, the weight on her heart did not lessen, and the memory of her cold, shaking hand in hers would remain with her. Forever.
She'd died for nothing. Nothing at all.
Completely numb, Sango moved in search of the Tessou. The hate, the anger, the desire to kill from before... all of it had been sucked away, leaving her feeling curiously, and painfully, empty. All that remained behind was encompassing grief.
Somehow, even when she at last came upon the demon, the sight of him did nothing but spurn more of it.
Miroku stood alone in a sea of carnage. The black blade dripped by his side, the shifting border between where metal began and where it was covered by blood indistinguishable. The monk's robes were splattered from head to toe with the substance, leaving him soaked in it and dripping as well. His hair had been loosed from his ponytail, falling limply around his shoulders in a black cast of savagery, and his fists by his sides... even from where she stood, Sango could seek that his fingernails had shifted to become claws, like Inuyasha's. And there, at the hem of his robes- there flicked the tip of an actual barbed tail, drifting back and forth over the blood spattered ground.
Claws. Tail. Blood- everywhere.
He was becoming less human by the second.
Her bile rose, and she almost threw up.
Around him was nothing but death. Death, that he had caused.
To see Miroku standing there, like that, to see everything that had happened by his hand... her heart broke.
"If I recall, human, I ordered you to remain behind, with the cost being your monk's life. Did you forget, or did I really misjudge you in how much you care for his life?"
Sango stared hopelessly at his back, feeling herself sink even further into the depths of despair. "I didn't run," she pointed out, weakly. "That's all you cared about, right? That I not run?"
There was a short pause. Then, a single, slight shake of his head. Blood droplets scattered off his hair with the motion, and she felt sick.
"I suppose you are right, human. That is all that matters." And, as silently as a ghost, he turned.
His face, too, was so far away from anything she recognized as Miroku she really almost could've believed it wasn't him standing there at all.
Some of his teeth had already elongated into fangs, again, just like Inuyasha. There was a streaked smudge of blood on one pale cheek but otherwise his features were unmarred and unstained, and to see such flawless skin before what had happened here- it looked out of place. Wrong.
The darkness in his eyes had grown, and along with it an unmistakeable air of careless cruelty that bespoke of everything that had been done to this village. He was smiling, for god's sakes. A slight, satisfied smile.
He tilted his head to the side at the sight of her, then pointed with his sword again, towards her face. "This body... it reacts again. At the sight of you sad, this body feels something. Tell me, human. What is it this man feels now? I do not like it."
Startled, Sango stared at him then reached to rub furiously at her cheeks, getting rid of the tear marks. "It's sympathy, you monster," she fired back, gripping the knife even tighter under her kimono. "Houshi-sama is sad that I am sad, and wants to help. What kind of a monster are you to have never felt sympathy before?! What, have you never cared for anyone?!"
The demon again paid her little attention, instead allowing his gaze to roam around the decimated village in simple curiosity. "Sympathy... what a joke. You are sad for these villagers, and he in turn is sad that you are sad. You mortals... feeling things for the sake of others like this... it is no wonder you are all pathetically weak. Held back for the sake of others? Nonsense. You! Why would you feel anything for these villagers? You know them no more than I did!"
She stared at him again, the utter callousness of the statement breathtaking. "Feel sad for them..." she whispered in shock, again taking in the carnage of one demon's war, then stumbled a step back in horror. "They had done nothing to you! Why do this?! Why kill them?! What could they have possibly done to you to bring this?!"
He laughed again, running a hand through Miroku's hair and sending some of the blood still dripping from it to the ground. "Done to me?" He sheathed his sword in the reddened, soaked dirt, one hand still wrapped warmly around the dark hilt. "Humans are incapable of doing anything so severe they necessitate my killing them, mortal. They existed here. My sword desired blood. That is all." He smiled slightly, looking down at the cursed weapon that had started it all. "This blade... it still houses things that I need. Right now I remain restrained by a mortal's fragile limitations- I needed to free what of me remained locked in this blade. Blood is what draws that contract, mortal. Blood released the parts of me that were still locked in here- that is all." His clawed fingers curled again and flexed, turning the hilt around in a deft toss; his tail flicked again, sharp barbs catching on the grass and tossing off some of the blood that still clung to it.
"Of course- that is not all. This arrangement is a complex one... I am not only bound through my power locked away in here- I am freed by it. This blade... it also lays claim to all about me that I wish to cast aside. Hunger, greed, desire... all things that weaken me, remain locked in here. Sometimes, I must feed them. As a sword, it hungers for what it is meant for- death. It is not complicated, mortal. It keeps what I wish to cast aside away-and returns what I require. In return, I feed it in blood. A mutualistic relationship, if you will..." He trailed off as he turned the sword again, flinging it in the air to release a scattering arc of black drops of blood, growling out a chilling laugh. "That is all this is, human."
His tail flicked again, eyes gleaming in satiated hunger, and the deadly, black blade gave a pulse in time with its master. A beat of energy that was raw in its hate and agony, something so strong and terrible it nearly staggered her.
And Sango, for her part, just stared at him, rooted to the spot, breath stolen and words robbed.
She'd been wrong. This wasn't like Kohaku at all.
Kohaku was a mindless slave. Naraku took away every memory he had, and memories were what made a person. He slaughtered because a force stronger than his own will ordered him to, and he killed without thought or reason. But it remained that he had been kept alive specifically because he was her weakness. Naraku feared them, no matter what he might say, and Kohaku was what he would trot out in front of her should she ever get too close to him.
But this thing in Miroku would use him only to destroy, and had no purpose other than that.
"Does that make you angry, human?" the Tessou questioned curiously, walking a step forward above the ruined ground. "You no longer look sad. You look angry."
Sango bowed her head, shoulders shaking in intractable grief and sorrow.
The others could say and promise what they liked; in her heart of hearts, she still believed the only peace and salvation for her brother was death. As long as Naraku lived, his fate was a slave's, and even if they won against him and freed her brother- what kind of a life was that? Memories, always, of killing his own family... slaughtering scores of innocents... going against even her...
And now, Miroku.
This demon was immensely powerful. Even housed in a human's body, he'd been able to put up a fight against Inuyasha. Getting Miroku out of this alive would mean shattering the blade. And it just didn't seem possible to do that without killing him. He was too dammed strong.
Of course she would never give up on him, but... to shatter the blade... if it left with Miroku with the Tessou's memories- what then? He was a pacifist. Warring against demons was necessary to save lives, but she didn't think he'd ever raised a hand against a human in anything but self-defense, and even then, he had never killed anyone aside from demons. Now, with those memories...
They would devastate him.
Except, even knowing that- she wanted him alive next to her still.
It was a selfish desire. Kohaku; what she wanted for him transcended anything she wanted for herself. She wanted for him to have peace, and if the only way for him to have it was by death- then so be it. No matter how much she hated herself for it, no matter how many tears she would cry or how much she would want him to live- if it was truly best for him, she would swing the blade herself.
But she didn't care how much Miroku hurt. She just wanted him to survive. No matter how haunted by memories that weren't his, no matter how broken by what he'd been forced to commit, whether he even stayed with her or not... she just wanted him to survive.
I don't want to live in a world that he's already left. My parents, my village, Kohaku... I can't take it again.
I can not give up another person that I love.
From the sorrow that grasped her now, she at last pulled determination. She at last found strength.
I will save you, Houshi-sama.
Sango withdrew the knife from her kimono and faced the Tessou, preparing herself to give everything that she had to give.
I will save you.
The Tessou raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. "What's this, now? You want to fight me? You saw me best the hanyou. What, you think you will be strong enough? This, I must see."
She didn't speak- she was beyond words.
She just attacked.
Sango fought against Miroku the same way he had for her when she had been possessed by the salamander demon. He struck in what were always meant to be fatal attacks, and she went only to wound, only to incapacitate. She wished she could free him without hurting him, like he had done for her, but this wasn't a human she was fighting. Miroku had the skill and strength of a demon swordsman right now. She couldn't afford to hold back.
With every lightning fast blow, he came closer and closer to her heart or her neck- whereas she got no closer to the sword. She had no idea how to shatter it, was sure it wasn't as simple as brute force- but she had nothing else to try.
And the longer the fight went on, the more apparent a single, depressing truth became: he was taking it easy on her.
He'd struggled against Inuyasha. She wasn't a match for Inuyasha. Therefore, it followed that she wasn't a match for him. And by the steadily growing grin on his face, she was right. To take him down without killing him- she didn't have the strength.
"This is what you come at me with?!" the demon laughed, bringing his sword against hers in such a resounding blow it made her vibrate all the way the down to the base of her spine. "Weak willed, slow... you are pathetic, mortal. You are not worth the waste of time you have become!"
One clawed hand flashed forward to catch her by the wrist and twist in a devastatingly fast attack; pain shot through her arm and Sango cried out, fingers forced to open and release her sword to clatter on the ground.
The deadly change from a battle to completely out of control was so fast it was nauseating, and Sango struggled, fighting to pull away- but his hold was as unyielding as metal. "N- no!" she gasped out through gritted teeth, struggling again as hard as she could to gain control again. "Let me go!" Houshi-sama!
The Tessou advanced further still, the hold on her arm so tight she could not even pull away. His fangs glinted in bloody light and he forced her wrist to bend even more- every pained whimper that escaped drawing a broader smile. "You thought this would be enough to best me. This?! You humans are pathetic! The fact that your mere existence gives this weakling strength- the strength to stand up to even me..." The glow of bloodlust in his eyes morphed into vicious hate- the claw around her wrist shifting from an amused hold to one that trembled with desire to kill.
"Lie back and die," he hissed, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn't talking to her. "Lie back and die, pathetic human. Your kazanna will be mine. Your love for this girl will kill her and when she dies so will you. The longer you resist the more I will make this torture!"
The sword whirled through the air in a violent slash so quick she could hear the wind, whirling straight down towards her throat; Sango's arm rose by instinct alone to block it from taking off her head-
And the Tessou froze.
Sango remained paralyzed, still crouched in as defensive of a position as she could get- but all she could see was the Tessou frozen in mid air, blade quivering- features now torn in inhuman, murderous fury. He struggled against a seemingly invisible force that held him in place, fangs bared, growl growing from a low hiss in his throat to a barely contained snarl of hate. "Y-you..." he ground out at last, but still not to her, "you pathetic human, you dare..."
And at last, she got it.
It was Miroku! Miroku had stopped him!
And now's my chance!
Houshi-sama! Hold on!
Sango lunged forward, going straight for the sword, reaching out in sheer desperation. She got as far as grabbing the sword by the blade so tight it dug into her hands and yanking before one sandled foot swung around to collide with her chest and sent her to the ground in a heap.
"You," Miroku hissed, all easygoing and uncaring pretenses dropped. He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her upright, dark eyes flashing. "You are the cause. He intercedes for your sake. His will is all but eradicated but what remains is still strong enough to save your pathetic life. First he seals he Kazanna... now he prevents me from killing a human like yourself..." His eyes darkened in rage, entire form beginning to shake. "Your interference no longer amuses me, human. Your Kazanna will be mine, and if this girl is what gives you strength, then I will destroy your strength is the most painful way possible. I will break it down, step by step, until you have no more hope left. And in that moment that your despair is at its peak, your soul will fall prey to mine, and you will no longer have any resistance."
The fist that came towards her head to knock her out again was expected, and Sango found herself only able to fight for a few miserable moments before unconsciousness returned, and she saw only darkness.
Sango vs Miroku!Tessou, next chapter! Reviews, anyone :)