Incomplete
- Chapter Eighteen -
The steam was so thick it settled over the bath house like a dense fog. Prying eyes had never been a problem at the palace, but just the same she felt perfectly content to take her time crawling into the bath. The water was scorching hot, just the way she liked it, and she eagerly slipped into the large cedar tub.
"Stupid Inuyasha!" she cursed quietly, easing her body further under the water.
"Stupid Sesshomaru!"
Apparently being a complete jerk was a hereditary trait in their family. Sesshomaru's pompous "You can't go unless I give you permission to" speech was bad enough, but Inuyasha's words...
"Sesshomaru's usually more possessive of his play things."
She angrily slapped the water, sending a small wave over the edge of the tub to soak the floor. How could he even think...? And after so much time apart he couldn't even...?
"ARGH!"
Her emotions were all over the place – angry one minute, hurt the next, and close to tears by the end. She couldn't even think in coherent sentences anymore. Normally Inuyasha's verbal barbs simply rolled off her back, but this time was different. His words had cut deep.
She could see now that leaving had been the right choice. She couldn't continue to let him do this to her. One minute pulling her into his arms and pretending like he cared and then shoving her away the next.
"I deserve better than that," she muttered sullenly.
Sesshomaru wasn't a picnic either. His ability to waffle between ignoring her existence and ordering her around was beyond frustrating, but at least he had the decency to not make her feel like crud. Even today in the stable, his words were blunt but they hadn't been said out of anger or spite – they were the truth. Until she'd killed that demon, she wasn't even sure for herself if she had the ability to handle it on her own. But she had and she did.
A smiled played across her lips as she remembered the rush of victory that'd surged through her when she saw her arrow hit the mark. She hated fighting but today she finally understood why some people loved the thrill of battle. It was an incredible feeling – knowing that you tested your strength and skill against someone bigger and stronger and still somehow managed to come out on top.
Despite his arrogance and lack of charm, she conceded that part of her victory belonged to Sesshomaru. In the middle of the battle, facing a terrifying demon five times her size and lethally fast with its fangs and claws, it was his words that had kept her focused. Because of them she'd never doubted her ability to succeed. She simply remembered the advice he'd given her, kept her shoulders relaxed and let her arrows do the rest.
There was a lot she could learn from Sesshomaru, especially when it came to perfecting her skills in battle. With their inevitable showdown with Naraku close on the horizon, she needed to use anything and everything she could to help her grow stronger. And for the moment, that meant him.
Besides, unlike Inuyasha, she could handle Sesshomaru without worrying about getting her heart broken and that was exactly what she needed. A little less emotional drama in her life would be a welcome change.
She breathed out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, determined to clear her mind of all things Sesshomaru and Inuyasha related. They'd occupied enough of her thoughts already today and she was more than happy to focus on simpler things for a while, like the feeling of the heat from the water soaking into her tired muscles.
Leaning her head back against the cool stone wall, she made herself comfortable and promptly dozed off.
oOo
In a remote area of the palace, hidden far from prying eyes and ears, a water stone scraped loudly over the edge of a blade.
Shhhh-ing. Shhh-ing. Shhh-ing.
Yellow eyes watched the blade closely, studied its length and edge with each pass. Every stroke held a promise, every scrape hope for a new future. The ancient war song he hummed to himself grew steadily louder. His hand set the pace, the scrape of the wet stone against metal marking the beat.
"Mountain to mountain, sea to sea..."
Shhh-ing. Shhh-ing.
"Through flesh and bone I will cut..."
Shhh-ing. Shhh-ing.
"Never to rust, never to dull..."
Holding the blade up to the dim light seeping in through the window, he tested the edge against his thumb and smiled as it drew blood.
"I will make you proud."
The task before him was simple. The plan however, was not. It was wrought with complications and unknowns. Failure would mean certain death, but he felt no fear. Such a cause was worth far more than his life.
Satisfied with his weapon, he slowly rose to his feet and firmly slid it into its sheath with an articulate 'snap'.
He was finally ready.
oOo
By the time she was finished with her bath Kagome felt like she'd had every ounce of energy sucked from her body. She was too drained to care about much of anything as she listlessly made her way from the bathing room to her bedroom. There were no thoughts of Inuyasha, no wonderings about Sesshomaru, just blissful, uncomplicated, peace.
The halls were empty, with the servants all in bed. It was a nice change from the constant hustle and bustle and it meant that she didn't have to scrounge up the energy to talk to anyone. Which was good, because right now the only thing she had energy for was finding her bed and putting herself in it.
Perhaps if she'd been less drowsy or complacent she might have noticed that something about the night air felt ominous. She might have noticed, too, that the lamp she usually left lit in her bedroom wasn't and that she wasn't alone in the darkness. But it was already too late by the time her brain realized any of those things. She opened her mouth to scream and was silenced by a strong hand at her throat.
She struggled to break free, clawing frantically at any body part she could get her hands on, but her assailant held her close, thwarting her best efforts. He dragged her further into the room, away from the door and freedom, and eventually tossed her to the floor as if she weighed nothing at all. Free of his choke hold she gasped for breath, wheezing as the air rushed into her lungs.
A few feet away a dim lamp was lit and she boldly looked into the face of her enemy.
"You," she managed to rasp out, her eyes narrowing in confusion and anger.
Her attacker was one of Sesshomaru's most trusted advisers, a decrepit, crass, yellow-eyed demon named Yakata. He had no tolerance for humans and had made certain she knew it at every possible opportunity. She despised him and the intolerance he symbolised, but even then she'd never expected he'd go so far.
He sneered down at her before advancing on her and snatching her wrist. He held it prisoner in his meaty hand and swiftly pushed back the sleeve of her yukata. The skin beneath was milky white and still blushing pink in places from the bath.
He pulled a small sword from a leather sheath at his hip and held it before her face.
Kagome's eyes widened in fear.
"Please don't," she begged, but the determination in his eyes told her he had no intention of letting her escape alive.
She struggled futilely in his grasp and watched horrified as he lowered the blade to her arm. It was so sharp that at first she only felt the cool touch of the metal against her skin. She watched amazed as tiny drops of blood began to flow down the blade and then the searing pain hit. It was like her arm had been set on fire and it only got worse as he continued to cut.
"Why are you doing this?" she managed, now freely punching and kicking him wherever she could find purchase. She wanted to scream for Sesshomaru but her voice refused to come out any louder than a hoarse whisper.
"Isn't it obvious?" Yakata demanded as tossed her bloodied arm away and grabbed the other.
"I'm going to make it look like you killed yourself. A dishonourable death for a no good human wench. With you out of the way, our victory on the battlefield is guaranteed. I won't let you distract him any longer!"
The room was starting to spin but she continued to fight. What was he talking about? What battlefield? What victory? Sesshomaru hardly spoke to her - how could she possibly be a distraction?
With a cry she finally bit into his arm until she tasted blood. He snarled and slapped her hard across the face. What had been effortless for him sent her head reeling. She fell back against the tatami floor, barely clinging to consciousness. Through her half-lidded gaze she saw a flash of silver and white, then crimson like the colour of blood.
Her conscious thoughts began to slip away one at a time, like balloons being released into the sky. She watched them go and felt sorry for their loss but couldn't be troubled to chase after them. It was easier to stay where she was. It was easier to do nothing but listen to the sluggish sound of her heart in her ears.
Is this what it feels like to die?
Too tired to keep fighting, her eyelids drifted shut and she succumbed to the nothingless void.
oOo
When she came to again it was to the realization that she was being carried. She watched, fascinated, as the blood dripped from her fingertips and left a tiny trail of red dots behind them on the floor, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading the way back home.
Drip, drip, drip...
Looking up into the face of the one carrying her she found herself feeling both surprised and not. She reached up to touch him just to be sure he was real. Her fingers clumsily grazed his cheek and soiled his marble-like complexion with a crimson stain. It almost looked like war paint, streaming down his cheek.
How fitting,she thought with a bemused smile.
At her touch he looked down at her with wide eyes, surprised to see her conscious.
"I wasn't…," she tried to explain, but she was too weak to get the words out. For some reason she felt it necessary to tell him that she hadn't tried to kill herself, but if she'd seen the body of Yakata on her bedroom floor with Tokijin protruding from his chest she may have realized that he already understood.
"Be silent," he urged and she was quickly swallowed up by the darkness once again.
oOo
Foolish!
Sesshomaru cursed as he kicked open the door to his private quarters and carried her inside.
Utterly carless and complacent! Have you been taught nothing?
He laid her atop his futon and took quick inventory of her wounds. His eyes didn't miss the way her pallor was slowly draining before his eyes. Grabbing the sheets he used his teeth to tear them into pieces for makeshift dressings.
Damn it!
He stared down at the extensive wounds and felt his stomach roil with revulsion. He'd managed to stop Yakata before he finished the job but that didn't excuse him from blame. He'd let this happen.
When they first objected to her presence in the palace he'd ignored their words as inconsequential. Who were they to question his decisions?
When they'd accused him of distraction he'd threatened them with bodily harm, certain they were nothing more than cowards. They were uneasy about the growing power of the Northern Tribes and their minds were tuned to war. They saw the miko as a threat - both to the kingdom and to his focus on the impending war.
He thought avoiding her was enough. He was certain brushing aside their concerns as ridiculous had been enough. He'd underestimated them and this was the result.
Keeping an ear tuned to the sound of her heart's feather-light beats, he quickly bandaged her arms. With each beat that passed her time was being slowly counted down. Her heart's rhythm was becoming sluggish and eventually it would stop altogether. What then?
He tied the knots on her bandages tight with his teeth and caught sight of Tenseiga resting against his wardrobe in the corner of the room.
"Useless," he muttered, scowling at the fang. It served no purpose to him now. He'd already used it to bring her back once. It wouldn't work a second time.
Feeling helpless was not something he was accustomed to. Uttering a 'tsk' of disgust, he grabbed hold of her wrists and applied pressure to the wounds.
"Do not die," he ordered, his expression intense. "This Sesshomaru does not permit it."
Her heart beats counted out the minutes, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. They were faint and fluttering but they continued on nonetheless, one after another. Her will to live was stronger than he'd first thought. The miko possessed far more strength than he'd given her credit for.
It made little difference though. However strong she might be, or determined she might be, she was still only human, as frail and mortal as the rest of them. He'd learned the hard way just how fragile they could be, and tonight was another unwelcome reminder. Humans were so frustratingly mortal.
The ache that'd taken up residence inside his chest was disturbingly familiar. He'd felt this sort of half-crazed panic before. It'd been a long time since the last time and he would have been glad to continue the rest of his existence without feeling it again, but fate had other plans in mind.
Fear had gripped him tonight for only the third time in his 800 years. The moment he'd caught the scent of her blood on the air his body had set in motion. Hardly understanding why at first, his feet raced urgently toward the palace. Nothing existed except the heady scent of her blood, the richness of it and its pungency, all telling him that there was far too much of it spilt.
He had no memory of entering the palace or shoving his sword through Yakata's traitorous chest, but he remembered the blood. It stained her robe and the tatami, her body and his hand. It was far worse than anything he might have been prepared for. He picked her limp form up off the floor and felt the stubborn thud of her heartbeat through her back. She was fighting, refusing to give up, and it kept him moving with a single-minded purpose.
But even now the fear lingered. Sitting next to the futon he'd lain her out on, he watched each rise and fall of her chest with a focus and intensity few knew. He kept his hand firmly wrapped around her wrists, stemming the flow of blood from her wounds and waited. To think of all the times he berated the hanyou for not taking proper care of her... If only the mutt could see him now.
240 heart beats and two hours later he noticed the first timid fluttering of her eyelids. Her brown eyes slid open and looked sleepily around the room until they came to rest on his face. She smiled faintly and slowly closed them again, drifting off into a deep sleep.
Bowing his head, he exhaled a small sigh of relief. He remained at her side throughout the night like a dutiful sentinel, until the sun rose over the horizon bringing with it hope and the promise of life.