IMPORTANT MESSAGE: So, to get ya'll excited for the coming chapters, I've started something called Sneak Peeks. If you scroll down to the very bottom of this page, past my authors notes (which I hope you read lol) you'll find this: SNEAK PEEK:
This is EXACTLY how it sounds. I'm giving little snippets of the next chapter that I will write. And, *ahem* Touga and Kagome will be in a VERY compromising position, if I do say so myself. Muahahaha...
As always-enjoy!
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Chapter 9: Kikyo's Curse
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A cold, chilled wind swept the land, ripping leaves from their perches and rustling the grass under the noonday sun. Fall was fast approaching, and in a few meager months, snow would fall from the sky and blanket the world in white.
He was unbothered by this.
A shadow moved, sliding through the trees and across the brush like a cloud of smoke in swift, yet almost languid motions, spreading its dark tendrils like an octopus on the sea floor. It choked the foliage and greenery, blocking out the shining sun and cloaking everything in a murky, black fog. Magic clung thickly to this new air, and from its depths a figure stalked forward. Booted feet landed softly into the grass and continued on, death creeping on their heels as the once green carpet was rendered grey. Arms, long and powerful seemed to draw the essence of life towards them, ripping existence from the very earth and leaving behind dry husks of mortal shells.
On a face of hardened marble, lips curled in grim amusement.
Death was his tool, and he the master of the trade. The scar he was carving across the nation was long and bleak, made with the knife of cruelty and the hands of ambition. The blood that oozed from that ghastly wound was birthing black crows of hatred, bitterness scattering across the land like dust in the wind.
Nothing had ever been so sweet.
Ruby eyes glared out into the day, glowing despite the sun high overhead. The cave that yawned before him was filled with promise and he couldn't help the satisfaction that filled him at the sight. Urasue, the crone that had summoned Kikyo's soul from hell was serving him well once again, even in death. The woman had had a talent with black magic, and ripping things back from the fiery depths was always a specialty of hers. Her cave was a treasure trove of spells, guidelines to accessing the underworld, and snatching things like a thief on light feet. And it was all just sitting here, seemingly unprotected, to whoever passed it by.
Naraku stalked closer, glee pumping in his veins.
Soon.
Soon every living being, no matter their creed, would tremble before his feet. Already his name was spreading—a venom too quick to cure that made even the strongest weak from fear. Demons and humans alike were fleeing from his clutches, unaware that the webs he'd weaved were already trapping them like the insects they were. Naraku, they would whisper. The Demon King.
And that's what he was. He was their ruler, their monarch, the emperor that would usher in a new era that he held in the palm of his very hand. He'd started from the bottom, the lowest of the low, and clawed his way to the top. And he would stay there, lording over all in his domain that would spread like wildfire. His nation would be powerful, built in the bones of the weak, his armies would march to the drum of the Underworld, immortal skeletons brought back from death itself. He would throw the land into chaos, revel in its havoc, and just when it's all falling apart, just when the entire world is teetering on the edge of oblivion, he would swing his mighty sword and from its bloody edge order would follow. They would fear him, yes, but they would love that fear. They would adore his terrible power.
They would be loyal.
He'd already set his plans into motion, the rolling stone that would bring about an earthquake. Through Shinju, he'd birthed the pearls. Orbs who's only purpose was to riot and whirl with disorder, spreading negativity and hatred to all that were close enough to feel it. The humans had been fighting for centuries now, but with the pearls, it would escalate. The fighting would burst, going up in flames like a funeral pyre and blazing its way across the continent. It wouldn't stop, the blood would never stop, and while it flowed so freely he would make his appearances. Killing indiscriminately, killing mercilessly, killing endlessly. The jewel would blacken with so much hatred in the world, he was sure. And with the jewel in his possession, under his control, he would be unstoppable.
There was only one last piece to bring to the playing field.
The humans were stupid creatures—they'd fear anything and everything that was set in front of them. Ensuring their obedience was simple. But the demons…the society that had reigned for so much longer than the weak humans would be harder to convince, harder to scare. They needed something to truly fear, something that, in their long years, they would undoubtedly recognize.
He knew what that something was.
His cold lips curled further, likened to a cat who had gotten the cream. He stepped into the threshold of the cave, the darkness seeping from every crevice not bothering him in the least. Unafraid, he walked onwards, his eyes glowing crimson in the darkness.
It didn't take him long to find what it was that he was searching for. Urasue hadn't ever been particularly careful of her things, believing that as long as she was alive, no one would be able to touch them. For the most part, this was somewhat true. She had many protections spells layered and weaved upon another to the point that even touching a one of her possessions would surely result in death by curses.
But. The ogress was dead. Her spells were rendered obsolete and the things they once protected were open to any greedy hand that walked by. Having his own talent in black magic, Naraku hadn't ever really needed to make a stop here and found his own power within himself and the jewel. The only reason why he had her resurrect Kikyo was that he needed her as a scapegoat. Kikyo was sure to purify the nearest evil thing as soon as she came back from the underworld, which was what exactly happened. Urasue hadn't lasted long after the priestess's revival, which doubled as a wonderful bonus since now, open to him, were her belongings.
But though he was powerful, summoning things back from hell required certain…finesse. Hell was a greedy, greedy place and if one wasn't careful they could find themselves dragged into the burning chasm by the same thing they had tried to take from it. And for that reason, a guidebook was a much coveted item.
His bloodshot eyes scanned the horde of spell books, scrolls, and ancient artifacts that oozed old power. Strewn about the room in haphazard piles, half decomposed carcasses and bones littering their bases, they piled on top of each other carelessly. The place was a rat's nest. His lips curled at the overall grime of the den, his foot kicking away skeletons of what looked like over-sized lizards, dark, oily liquid staining what stone ground there was. Long dried herbs hung from the ceiling, reeking of something strong and foul from their twine prisons. They crumbled and crinkled into papery shards as he brushed passed them, falling to the ground in scented confetti.
He was momentarily tempted to take a few things that caught his eye, seeming to gleam at him from beneath other, more useless artifacts. But he resisted—there would be a time for them later. Now, though, he had a mission to complete. Stalking further into the filth, he used his attached body parts to topple the piles, spewing them over the ground and therefore easier to search. It didn't take him long to find what he was searching for.
It didn't look like much, he'll admit. Bending to pick it up, he held it up to his gaze, scrutinizing the large, animal fang in his grip. The bone was yellowed and brittle with age, about the size of his forearm, and it's once razor sharp point had been deadened to a smooth tip. Turning it over he caught a glimpse of carvings, etched deep into the marrow and thrown into sharp relief with some brackish paint that he knew had been blood. The runes were old and alien, unlike anything he'd ever seen and flowing in their style. So unlike the sharp, jagged strokes of their own language—it was an attractive look.
Having acquired what he had come for, Naraku swept the area once more and stalked from the cave. Once his feet passed the mouth of the cave, a pink barrier lit up the opening, blocking it from anyone else who should stumble upon its treasures. He tucked the fang into his kimono sleeve, and once he knew it was secure, he took to the skies.
Soon…
Soon, So'unga the Hell Sword would be his.
It would be many hours later before the black fog that had heralded his presence would fade, and many days still before life would dare to grace the blackened ground once again.
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Kikyo stumbled, shooting a ferocious scowl down at her left leg.
It had been a few hours since she had shot her reincarnation and sprinted as fast as she could from the cave. She knew she had left behind a scent trail, and if any of the dog demons that traveled with the other priestess were to catch that trail…she would walk this world no more. So she had to run, had to put as much distance as she could between her and them. But in her haste she had become uncharacteristically clumsy. It had only taken one wrong step for disaster to strike, and strike it did.
Her clay body afforded her many advantages. The lack of needing to breath ensured she could cover huge distances without every running out of breath. The souls that gave her power never left, and therefore energy was never an issue. She felt neither hunger, nor exhaustion, nor pain. But there was one flaw…one significant error that had balanced out all the good things of being an undead:
She was fragile.
That one misplaced step. If she had been human, if she had a possessed a body made of flesh and bone, her ankle would have rolled to accommodate the uneven move. Perhaps it would have sent a twinge ringing up her leg, or maybe it would be sore. Maybe she would have remained uninjured entirely. But she was not made of flesh or bone and her ankle had not rolled or twanged and it certainly had not recovered. No, because of her brittle shell her ankle had broken clean off.
The angle and pressure and snapped it like a twig, sending a puff of aged clay into the air as she collapsed and further damaged what had already broken. Cracks had crawled all the way up her leg in jagged, lightning strike fissures, chipping what was once smooth and unblemished. Her foot had broken into pieces when she had crushed it with her fall, and anything from her mid-shin and down was no more.
She felt no pain of course, but that hadn't stopped her from screaming. Of all the things to happen, of all the places and of all the times the worst possible outcome had been brought into reality. Were the gods mocking her? Was this her punishment for turning her back on them? For choosing the path blackened with evil and slicked with blood?
She hadn't allowed herself to ponder on that thought for too long. Surely, at that point, the demons had found their way out of that cave. They'd be upon her in a matter of hours! She had to move.
So she had picked up her broken body and tried her best to move forward, stumbling and tripping at every turn. Her progress had undoubtedly slowed from that point, and her unexpected injury had complicated her plans tenfold.
And that's where she was now, slipping against jagged tree bark that was cutting into her hands and searching frantically for a source of water that was larger than a puddle. She seemed to be in luck, however, as she had been steadily descending downwards, sure that water would pool at lower ground. She hadn't completely toppled over with her handicap, and there, just through the trees, she could see the glimmer of sunlight on water.
Eyeing the rocks and trees beneath her, she began her steady descent. It was slow work, the terror of imagining her enemies catching up to her not far from her mind, but she persevered. She had come too far, sacrificed too much, to go to hell now without reaping her rewards.
Finally, she reached even ground and began the awkward process of making it to what was definitely the edge of small pond. She tried to walk first, but after only a few short seconds she threw pride to the wind and dropped to her knees, crawling through the grass and mud. Her lips were tugged into a sharp frown and the furrow between her eyes was ever-present. Whatever Naraku would do, she hoped the slime made sure it worked.
Making it to the water's edge, she fished around inside her kimono and drew out the leather cord that held the black stone. Taking it off, she threw the whole thing into the middle of the pond, situating herself in a more dignified pose that hopefully wouldn't portray how helpless she actually was.
The reaction was almost instantaneous. Before the splash that the stone made could settle, the water had turned black and stilled to the point that it looked like glass. Naraku emerged from that black glass seconds later, the water not daring to touch him as he rose from its depths. His head of inky hair tumbled down his back, completely dry, and his red eyes were gleaming with maniacal joy.
Standing on the water's surface, his lips pulled back to bare a fanged grin.
"Kikyo," he greeted calmly, taking a measured step towards her. Her eyes narrowed. "Naraku."
He continued to walk towards her slowly, like an animal would stalk its prey. She was unimpressed by the display, and it only served to foul her already black mood. "I have what you asked for," she clipped out, her tone even despite the fact that she was angry and frustrated. He stopped just a few feet away, still standing on the strangely still surface of the obsidian water, and tilted his head slightly. "So demure," he commented sweetly. "You look like an obedient wife greeting her husband."
The barb stung, but she refused to show it. Despite being raised as a shrine maiden, she had always wanted a family. She had wanted to greet a husband home and care for his children. But Naraku was thoroughly tainting that image. Now all she felt was belittled, as if she was a slave rather than the loving wife she had always wanted to be.
Her eyes turned to stone, glaring up at the half demon as she thrust her hand into her sleeve and withdrew a lock of dark hair. Holding it out in her palm, she placed it in the air between them, refusing to raise her hand and make it look like she was offering it to him. No…she was inviting him to take it, but never would she offer him anything. She would never lower herself to a position below this filth.
His ruby shard eyes glanced down at her prize and then flicked back up to her. With a subtle, almost unnoticeable shrug, he waved his hand lazily and from behind her she heard the eerie wail of the soul stealers. Their soft light enveloped her as they snaked around her body, lifting her up while at the same time one flew forward to snatch up the hair. It flew over to Naraku, wrapping around him and setting the trophy into his upraised palm, content to stay once its duty had been completed.
The image was a stark reminder that the only reason she even had the soul stealers was because of the spider. She touched the tip of her tongue to the front of her clenched teeth, a silent display of fury. How much she relied on this monster!
Naraku rolled the lock of hair in his fingers, and then brought it up to his is eyes to inspect. He watched the afternoon sun shine off of the dark curls with clinical detachment. How interesting that something so simply pretty could belong to someone he so effortlessly despised. He figured it wouldn't matter soon, though, since she would be dead.
Flicking his eyes back to Kikyo, he noticed for the first time the state of her leg. With the soul stealers supporting her on her feet—foot—the damage was plain to see. He gave the broken appendage a disapproving look. Really, how much was he going to have to help this useless woman? This better be worth the investment, or else his entire machinations would have to be rewritten.
With another motion of his hand, a soul stealer slithered down to the crippled leg, twisted around it, and broke off a sizable chunk. Kikyo made a strangled sound, but he didn't spare her a glance. "No fear, Kikyo," he said instead, holding out his hand for the clay and crumbling it down until it could fit in his palm easily. The remnants plopped into the water, but made no sign of splashing. "I won't leave you decrepit."
Adding the hair to the mixture of graveyard soil and clay, he clenched his hand tightly around them and brought it to his fist to his lips, whispering reverently against his white knuckles, "Bind the bodies for the prize of the soul."
The ceremony wasn't much of one, but in black magic theatrics were rarely ever needed. And that's the way he preferred his spells: quick, simple, and destructive.
Channeling his aura, he waited until his own skin burned from the magic before throwing the mixture into the air. It jumped out of his splayed fingers in sparks and glowing an angry red—proving that the mark of Hell was upon it.
For a while, Kikyo—stunned and angry, still supported by the will of the soul stealers—looked on in incredulity.
"Was that…" she hesitated, bewildered. "…all?"
It had seemed so…plain. Of course, perhaps to an outsider it wouldn't have seemed that way. Watching a demon who looked disturbingly like a chimera break off a portion of her leg, which wasn't even alive, and then burning that with a hair in his fist until all that remained were ashy sparks would be startling. But to her, who had lived her short eighteen years and four more as a ghost within a shell, it was nothing short of modest.
Naraku gave her an indulgent look laced with disgust. "You tell me," he murmured gently, oily, like he was expecting something.
Kikyo had opened her mouth, forcefully drawing in air for the sole purpose of speech when it hit her. Unfathomable pressure, right there, on her chest. It was like the gods were taking a hammer to her breast, only the hammer was falling so fast there was no reprieve. It was if a mountain had just been placed atop a nail resting on her sternum. The breath left her in a dead whoosh, bereft of any hint of her voice at all and she collapsed in on herself, the soul stealers dropping her to the unforgiving ground. She heard the shatter of more clay and briefly wondered what else had broken before the thought flickered away, replaced by the much more devastating sensation of feeling.
It was both painful and exhilarating, even as she felt she was being pressed into the dirt beneath her. What is this? She thought frantically, not knowing what to make of her first taste of humanity in four years. Clay cannot feel, but this…all she could do was feel. And it felt awful. Crushing. Completely overtaking in its all-consuming raze.
And then it was gone. The pressure eased until it was no more, but still an impression was left behind. A…mark of some kind, she felt. The phantom of what she had just experienced, serving as a reminder. Almost as if it was a promise of a threat, like an omen, or a—
A curse.
Abruptly Kikyo rose from her depreciating form, untangling herself from the heap her broken body and clothing had created. Her hand flew to where the pressure had been—still was—resting. A seconds hesitation was all she spared before ripping open her kimono top, barely preserving her modesty to the mostly forgotten being in front of her, and looked down.
A mark was exactly what it felt like, and a mark was exactly what it was. There, resting in sinister innocence on her sternum, was a small black circle, no bigger than a coin.
She recognized it instantly. Few things could claim such impossible blackness, seeming to erase wherever it sat with startling abruptness, and few things could take such a terrifyingly simple shape.
Years ago, what seems like a lifetime ago, Kikyo had been training to be a shrine-maiden. Among healing, spiritual meditation, and intense training with her bow, she had also been warned of the black magic festering in pockets of the world. Very little was known of the art, experience and knowledge left fearfully to those who wielded it, but what the holy knew they passed on with fervor. There were a myriad curses and evil artifacts, some so ancient their origins were lost to the gate of time. But there were particular curses, a surprising few, that could identified with an image.
And the most notorious were the death curses. Like death itself they always brought with them a numbering of days, a definite end to the already finite lives of mortals. You were on a timer the second it was placed, like some disturbed perversion of marking the passing of the sun and moon. They poisoned you with shadows so black that they were nothing less than pitch, contained sharply within the walls of a circle—eternal, inescapable, and certain.
A circle like the one resting on her chest, and just as black as any soulless, gaping maw that rose from the depths of the Afterlife.
Already four summers dead, and she could feel the creeping chill of the reaper at her back.
Steeling herself, though she could not tear her eyes away from her own fate, tattooed above her breasts, she addressed her curser. "How much time?" she whispered. He answered with a smile in his voice. "One hundred days, priestess."
Only a hundred? She thought, dismayed. To think, after all she had done, after all she had sacrificed for her goal, and she was the one with the curse. Above her, though she still did not look, Naraku continued. "Your duplicate has a similar mark," he said, sound all the world like the cat who had gotten the cream. " 'Bind the bodies for the prize of the soul', what did you think that meant, Kikyo? Surely, with all your wisdom," he laughed. "You didn't think you would get away unscathed?"
"One hundred days," she repeated hollowly, still in shock as she stared down at her chest.
Naraku grinned. "Your bodies are bound—the soul you seek will not escape to the afterlife. But." And here she finally looked up at him, her eyes fathomless and dull, vapid as the full comprehension of just what she had done dawned on her, weighing her down even more than the pressure from before had. "Only one can have it. You will have to kill her to claim your prize, and if dear, sweet, little Kagome wishes to live, she will have to end you herself as well." His malicious smile made it clear that he knew that the other woman would never do such a thing, not unless desperation had driven her insane. With the sudden, horrible curse placed on them both, Kikyo wondered if that was exactly what would happen.
"…And if we both fail…?" She asked uncertainly. Naraku smiled wickedly. "Then Hell will claim you both."
Silently stunned, Kikyo sat in silence. She was only torn from her stupor when Naraku suddenly yanked her head up by the chin, his grip tearing into the fragile ceramic of her face. "But," He hissed threateningly. "As useful as this curse is, what with two of the three options ending with either Kagome dead, or both of you pests finally gone from my sight," he yanked her up to stand, supported weakly on the stalk of one leg, her other missing now from the knee down after Naraku had taken a chunk. Using one of his fingers to score a line down her face in a mockery of a caress, Naraku continued on, a thoughtful cast to his voice. "There is, unfortunately, a possibility that Kagome may yet live."
His eyes seemed to darken and glow furiously as a result of this thought, and Kikyo could guess why. If Kagome was in possession of the whole of her soul, then her power would increase.
"And that is why," he drove on, "You are going to make sure that doesn't happen."
Kikyo's eyes widened as his aura spiked dangerously high, a summoning of a large portion of his power, stolen from the jewel or not. She could feel it build within him, bubbling up from his stomach and flowing down his arm in a tsunami of black power until it flowed into her. She could feel it burn.
She cried out, the first, true sensation of actual, unbridled, raw pain since her first death. He dropped her uncaringly at his feet, watching as she writhed from the fire he'd channeled into her. "That shell of yours is just that—a shell. And it will not be the only thing you and I share, Kikyo."
Gasping for breath that she didn't need, Kikyo clutched fearfully at anything: her clothes, the roots, grass, anything to ground her as this fire branded her from the inside. Surrounding them, the once gently floating soul stealers that were content to glide lazily through the air turned agitated, their blue-white scales darkening to a sleek obsidian as white gleamed from their eyes like jewels. Their mouths elongated, their jaws filling with wicked fangs and still Kikyo twisted fitfully in her place.
Above the pain, cutting through her already pounding head like a knife, she could hear Naraku's voice. "I leave you with this gift, Kikyo, as a…token of good faith. Think of it as something to strive for," he laughed. "A goal, I suppose."
And then she heard him no more.
She wasn't certain for just how long she was there, thrashing among the foliage as black serpents circled above her pained cries, but she was agonizingly aware of what stole over the pain as slowly as creeping frost.
Feeling.
Bit by bit she was beginning to be aware of her surroundings. The cool of the grass her fingers were ripping to shreds, the dirt collecting under her fingernails. She could actually feel the sunlight that was dappling on her form, sifting through the leaves in the slight breeze that was stirring her hair. Her chest was heaving with breath she'd never needed before her life, and she lay in stunned, amazed happiness as the air burned her lungs and her heart—her heart—beat thunderously in her chest.
How?
After a few more minutes, simply absorbing everything around her, all the wonders that she had silently survived without, she sat up. Her new muscles made the task easy, and she reveled in the way that it stole her breath before she could suck in air once more. Looking down, she noticed her leg—the one that had been shattered so hideously was no repaired. But it was even better than repaired.
It was flesh. She grabbed at it, a joyous laugh bubbling up and spilling from her lips in delight. It was warm to the touch, smooth just like it used to be, small, nearly unnoticeable hairs dotting the skin. And her hands! She raised them to her eyes, staring intently at the lines in her palms and the patterns upon her fingers, touching them together in awe. There were calluses on her palms from her bow, and the backs of her hands were unmarred safe for a few scratches on her knuckles. Scratches that she recognized.
He…he had given her a body. And not just any body, but her body. The one she had possessed before he had sunk his claws into it and she had been cast into the flames of her funeral pyre.
Struck with the sudden urge to see, she scrambled over to the lake, happy at the twigs and sticks that snagged at her clothing. The glare of the sun was hard to see past at first, but the lake was still strangely still after Naraku's presence, and still reflective as she needed it to be. It acted as a mirror, and gathering a fortifying breath, she peered over the edge of the shallow shoreline.
Her breath caught.
Her reflection stared back up at her, an expression of awe on her face. Marble smooth skin was soft to the touch, her dark hair tousled but healthy falling over one shoulder. Her eyes were alight with a sparkle she hadn't known she could possess, the tender brown orbs gentled with happiness. Her cheeks were flushed with life, and her lips were pink as they stretched into a brilliant smile.
She couldn't remember being so happy.
Suddenly she remembered the curse mark on her and she abruptly looked down. The mark was still there, seeming to suck all the light out of the air around it. Somehow it seemed even more evil now, seeping under her new skin and poisoning this perfect body that she had been given—no, that she deserved.
Determination swept through her. She had only one hundred days. The time limit was short, and with demons on her side Kagome would no doubt move swiftly, but Naraku was right. Kikyo had the advantage because while her reincarnation would hesitate at the brutality of killing another human being, even for her own life, Kikyo had no such reservations. She'd seen war, love and betrayal, seen the horrors that man and demon alike could commit, and decided that if they were all going to hell anyway, then she was going to enjoy every scant second that she could on this world where decisions ruled your fate.
She could kill Kagome.
She could.
But still, the priestesses allies worried her. She had no friends of her own, and while she was sure Naraku wanted them gone, she doubted that he would spare too much for her sake. As if answering her unasked question, the soul stealers, if they could still be called that, swarmed towards her.
Their sleek, scaly bodies lifted her gently to her feet, a deep, rumbling voice ringing out into the air, seemingly from all of them at once. "The Demon King has given you gifts," they whispered. "A body, a chance for a soul, and power."
"Power?" she asked breathlessly, supporting herself on her own two feet now, but still they caressed her, winding around her body in endless circles. "Yes," they hissed delightedly. "Yesss…a priestess no longer."
"Not…not a priestess?" Startled by the implication, she called upon her holy powers only to find them gone.
But something else rose in its place. Blinding, crackling white light was sitting in her palm. Her eyes were mesmerized by it, reminding her of the powerful, almighty lightning that streaked across heavy skies, frightening her in its intensity and the roar of thunder that followed. "Yess…" they whispered again, spinning tighter and tighter around her. She was unbothered by their closeness though. "Not a preiestess, no…something much more powerful. A sorceress instead…"
"A sorceress," she murmured in awe. In an act of curiosity, she tentatively put her hands forward, not really knowing what would happen. The lightning leaped out of her hands, striking at several of the trees with an otherworldly shriek that deafened her ears, a dull ring replacing everything else. The trees went up in flames if they hadn't been decimated already, the fire burning before her in crimson inferno. Her heart beat ferociously against her ribcage, pounding in her veins and making her mouth thick and unmovable in the wake of this new, exhilarating power.
As the ringing in her ears slowly subsided, she could only hear the crackle of fire, the labor of her heavy breaths, and the cackle of the black creatures around her as they laughed one more message:
"Sorceress of the Storms!"
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A/N: Soooo...what do you think about Kikyo here having powers? And both her and Kagome cursed? Oops.
Sorry for the horribly overdue update guys! I just moved from Nevada to Arizona and in the crazy fast move (we had too book it) getting settled with schools and then moving schools-keeping up was really hard. Despite the chapter being so short ( my word I had to fight to get this out) I have been writing bits and pieces along the way, no more than a few paragraphs at a time.
And omg FINALLY everything is falling into place. I had to bring so much crap into this story just to make it awesome and AT LONG EFFING LAST they're all there. Well not So'unga. Yet. That'll come in later and I promise it's gonna be MIND BLOWING! Haa, soooo excited!
Once again sorry for any spelling/typos/grammatical errors. I don't have a beta and am generally too lazy to go back and do a thorough editing, though I DO actually look it over. And also.
THANK YOU TO WHO EVER ADDED ME TO THEIR COMMUNITIES! Its actually been really hard for me to get this story into communities. I feel that if I can manage to do that then a lot more people would see this story. But seriously, when I went onto my account one day and saw that DEFCON was added to TWO MORE COMMUNITIES it literally made my day. I was pretty much a dazzling little ball of fairy joy for the rest of the weekend. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!
Enjoy the latest installment, and never fear! I will update this puppy (lol, punny) until its actually finished!
As always, read, follow/favorite, and review! I love to hear feedback from you people!
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SNEAK PEEK:
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Kagome looked stunned and he examined that expression with a curious and highly amused regard. His eyes, however, betrayed nothing, instead looking at her as if she was the crazy one. Their audience turned their attention to her, clearly expecting her to confirm Touga's totally unexpected (outlandish, completely uncalled for, did she mention crazy) statement. Heart pounding a little in her chest, and very aware of the tomato red flush that was painted high on her cheeks, she turned her eyes downwards and constantly flickered them up to (a smiling the bastard) Touga, to the inn-keepers, and then back down to her feet as she stammered out her response. "Umm...y-yes Touga isn't-is-my, my umm..."
Touga had to seriously try to contain the laughter that was trying desperately to break free, but as it was he couldn't help the wide, suppressed smile that stole over his lips at his little bird's dilemma. Her entire face and the tips of her exposed ears were bright pink. "He's uh...he's, well, he's m-my hu-hu- husband." She finally got out in squeak, although it sounded almost like a question at the end.
Grinning like a fool, he swung his beaming gaze back to the inn-keepers, tugging Kagome over with the hand he held. She tripped a little, unused to the unnaturally small steps that the demure, pretty kimono was forcing her to take, her geta stirring in the dirt at their feet. She stumbled into his side, and being so much taller than her, he took advantage and draped his arm across her back and held her to him. "You see?" he implored of the two people standing before them, on the porch of their establishment. "We're married. Sharing the single room you have left won't be an issue at all," he said genially, and the two inn-keepers looked to each other and nodded, beckoning them inside.
Oh, gawd, Kagome thought desperately, completely flustered. She couldn't believe that Touga had just said that! Without any warning, too! Face bright red, she looked up to Touga once their host's backs were turned, intending to give him a piece of her mind.
But her mouth abruptly closed at the familiar gleam in his eyes, and her blush increased ten-fold.
It was the same gleam that he had when she'd walked in on him changing.
I practically fainted when I saw him undress, she railed in her mind. How the hell am I going to spend the night with him!?
Unknown to her, Touga's smile was a little more fang than usual as he led her down the hall to their shared room and bedding for the night.