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Back to the Future
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The soft click of a woman's heels down the marbled hallway was the only sign at the moment that he wasn't completely alone with this maniac who'd kidnapped him. Not that he could really judge said maniac for doing the exact same thing he had done just a few days before but still. This was unreal. The strange man wore a stark grey pinstriped suit that was obviously designer. His short white hair was perfectly combed and his skin was absolutely flawless. Everything about him screamed power and influence so…why kidnap him?
"I'll ask you again," came the monotone voice that seemed so familiar as he removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, "When did these thoughts, these visions begin?"
"I don't fucking know what you're talking about!" the man named Naraku lied through his teeth – not about to admit that he potentially dreamed up the whole situation with the strange woman, "Who the fuck are you?!."
"Let me rephrase," the man's voice continued – sounding thoroughly tired to this ordeal as he admired his nails that were beginning to glow an almost neon greenish color, "Why did these visions begin? What triggered them? What is the last thing you remember clearly?"
"What the fuck is wrong with your hands?!" Isao screamed as he struggled fruitlessly against the handcuffs, "Jesus! What are you?!"
"Who or what I am is none of your concern," the man continued with a heavy sigh – his hand still up in the air, "What I need to know if who or what triggered your memories."
"And I told you I don't fucking….MOTHERFUCKING SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" the weak protest was cut off by a ear piercing shriek when the man dug a single claw into the man's leg – his flesh slowly disintegrating around it, "Fine! FINE! FUCK! FINE! THERE WAS A FUCKING WOMAN IN A TAROT CARD READING SHOP! IT'S NEAR AMERIKAMURA!"
"Interesting," the silver haired man hummed as he removed the digit and turned to wipe the blood from his finger with a plain white handkerchief, "Now what is your name."
"Isao," the man panted heavily - grimacing in pain as he stared in horror at the increasingly large hole in his leg, "My name is Isao Nakamura."
"Must we go through this again," the man sighed heavily - his amber eyes flashing menacingly as he placed the soiled cloth onto a grand mahogany table, "What is your name?"
"Uh, uh...Onigumo? No. No, Naraku. My name is...was Naraku," the man spluttered as he subconsciously leaned away from the man and set his jaw, "Is that right?"
"It will do," the man hummed darkly as he turned once more and began looking at some news paper clippings and photographs on his desk, "Now I'm going to show you three women. I want you to point to the one who ran the tarot shop. Lies will get you nowhere. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Isao breathed as he struggled not to black out as the strange man picked up some loose papers and walked over to him. The first woman was strange looking - skinny, short black hair and very scantily clad. The background was strange - she appeared to work in a wig shop of some kind or perhaps she was a hairdresser. The shelves behind her were filled with Styrofoam heads covered with all manner of hair and elaborate combs.
"Is this her?" the man asked in an almost bored tone. Isao shook his head vehemently. Humming in approval, the man withdrew the second piece of paper - a news clipping from the fifties if he wasn't mistaken. The angry looking woman was being held at bay by several police officers at some protest for something or another - her long black hair filled with braids decorated with small feathers.
"Is this her?" the man asked casually - almost as though he knew what the answer would be. Again Isao shook his head vehemently. Nodding, the silver haired man withdrew the third and final photograph. This news clipping looked even older. The young woman had long silver hair and a scaly scar over one eye. The headline read something about the impact of the atomic bomb and had several other pictures but those others obviously hadn't caught his attention.
"That's her," Isao breathed shakily before his eyes widened in horror, "I mean, she looked like her. There's no way its her. She's too young."
"Is she?" the silver haired man chuckled - an eerie disturbing sound, "Maybe she merely looks good for her age."
"I'm telling you what I know," Isao breathed anxiously as his whole body trembled, "Maybe its her daughter or granddaughter even."
"Perhaps," the man responded coldly as he slowly held his hand in front of his face - the nails glowing a radioactive green, "It matters not to the likes of you any longer."
In the blink of an eye, a long green whip suddenly emerged from seemingly nowhere and cleaved the man in twine. Sighing heavily at the slowly dissolving waste of a corpse, Sesshomaru shook his head before walking over to the phone and dialing.
"We have a problem," he stated matter of factly when the other side picked up before ordering in a tone that left no room for argument, "Call the council."
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He'd started at the entrance to the building that held Miroku's penthouse and went from there. The scent was almost stale but as he was working backwards, that fact didn't bother him very much. He merely wanted answers. He highly doubted that the reincarnation of Naraku had spiritual powers - that fact had been bothering him from the moment he'd seen the sutra that'd been ripped off Anora's arm. There had to be someone else pulling the strings - someone with enough spiritual power to embed a sutra with enough power to last for days by a layman. Someone who knew a little too much about all of them to be just any stranger. The only problem is that try as he might to run over the list of dark mikos in the feudal era that might still be alive, the list itself was non-existent. They'd killed all of them - not that he wasn't ruling out an awakened reincarnation mind you but still...nothing about this situation made any sense. Everything was lining up a little too well and yet not well at all. Miroku hired him out of seemingly nowhere then was attacked the next day. Sango is the cop assigned to the case. Shippo's son was stolen. Everyone regaining their memories. Trust him, he wanted it to be something as simple as it all being the doing of Naraku but the more he thought about it the less likely that seemed to be plausible. While he was many thing, Naraku was never someone who was quite this...messy. His actions were that of a man who was mentally ill - not a cold, calculated supervillain. No, something else was going on.
Casually - to not draw attention to himself - he followed the scent down the cement sidewalk and groaned inwardly as he came to a stop right above a subterranean subway station several blocks later. It was going to be damn near impossible to follow a scent through there. In fact, he found it nearly impossible to breathe down there as it was but having to take long, deep breaths in that hell hole? Shit it was as good as torture. Yet for some reason, this is what his instincts were screaming at him to do which to his non-instinct driven mind made absolutely no sense. There was limited visibility, no way to pull off a clean escape, a high number of observers which meant a lot more scent to sift through. Yet his instincts were screaming at him to follow the scent into the subway with such ferocity it was almost a compulsion. Follow the scent no matter where it leads.
Stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, Inuyasha took a deep breath before slowly making his way down the granulated steps, pausing every so often to look over his shoulder. His instincts were also screaming at him that this was a trap - which also made no sense. It was like there were two sets, two parts of him and they were in complete odds. Something was wrong with him. He'd felt this for a while. Since when did he feel terrified over...well, just about anything? Death was a part of life that he'd never really seen the need to fear. Yeah, he'd been scared for his friends lives before never to the point where he felt damn near paralyzed. His strength had always been being able to think and act on the spur of the moment and yet here he was overthinking and second guessing his instincts which had never done him wrong before - at least when he wasn't in the middle of some major heartbreak- looking at you Naraku pretending to be Kikyo. Still, it was like his feet had a mind of their own as well as they continued forward, into the station, through the portals that led to the inner belly of this place that smelled like every bad thing.
The station was thriving with people as was to be expected. Every scent from soap to piss overloaded his senses as he tried to follow that one already stale scent straight to a particular terminal. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward slightly to stare into the black tunnel, willing those red lights to blink back at him so he could get to his next destination, praying they'd come closer, announcing that at least he would soon be on his way. He hated the subway. Really he did. It was his least favorite place in all of Japan. Before the jewel performed its last act of vengeance against them, the only time he'd been near one of these suckers was when he'd had to chase Kagome's backpack and he'd been on the crowded train for all of five seconds. Five seconds of pure sensory overload and that station had been above ground. Still, he just needed to get on the train and get off at the station where the trail began again. Worst case scenario it'd be thirty minutes of this and then he'd be free.
Soon the lights took pity on him and the train came whistling down the tracks before coming gracefully to a halt in front of him. Hopping on, he took hold of the nearest bar and waited. One stop, two stops, three stops then mercifully on the fourth the scent hit him and he gratefully exited onto a completely abandoned platform.
'Since when is any platform abandoned,' his instincts that had been making somewhat more sense than the second batch screamed, 'Get back on the train, stupid. Get back on the train! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!'
Glancing around, he took just a little too long as the train door closed behind him and the train took off into the darkness leaving him all alone. Adrenaline flooded through him as he turned to watch the train leaving before he turned abruptly to stare at the empty platform behind him, paranoia eating away at his calm. Something was wrong. With his instincts. With this situation. Something was very wrong.
Shaking himself mentally, Inuyasha quickly turned to follow the trail onward and out of the creepy space when suddenly he saw a familiar looking face standing before him - somehow missed completely in all this time.
'It's impossible that she's the same woman,' he lied to his racing heart as he quickened his pace towards the exit, 'We killed her. This is just a coincidence.'
The set of instincts that he should've been listening to all along disagreed while the other set of instincts cooed and told him all was well. Fuck that second set. He needed to get out of here and fast. Quickening his pace, he marched straight ahead as normally yet as fast as he could. He didn't want to be left alone with this woman - reincarnation or not. After all, if Naraku remembered he sure as hell didn't want to be...
"Inuyasha," the woman suddenly cooed - his blood freezing in his veins as he tried to continue forward only to realize he was suddenly unable to move, "Come with me."
'No, no, no, no, no,' his mind screamed even as his body moved of its own accord, 'Fight it. Fight it. Fight it.'
Traitorously, however, just as that thought crossed his mind - his mind went blank and he knew no more.