Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or any other characters of Rumiko Takahashi's imagination. But O'Hara, Arena, Williams, Skyward, Yukio, Takaya, and any other people never seen on the anime or manga are...MINE!

This chapter will explain any questions about Miroku and O'Hara. It's a little short but that's because I thought I had dragged out the waiting long enough. Enjoy!

The Silent Hanyou

Chapter 38

Why am I so useless? Why can't I help anyone?

Why am I even here?

He hit it again. The sand bag hardly moves on its chain; the force of his hit shudders through the fabric, loses strength, and dies. It mocks him. He kicks it. He loses his balance and he falls.

It doesn't hurt landing on the mat but he can't make himself get back up. He lies there, huffing, staring unseeing over the bright colored pad. It sickens him. The sand bag sickens him. He hates this training, hates his frailty…hates himself.

I don't have any usefulness. I'm a waste of space.

Why am I even here?

He can't even help his friend. "Could I go along?" he had asked Chief.

"No. You are not needed. You would only get in the way."

Story of his life. Inuyasha's fighting for his life in some coffin…and here he is…pathetic…kicking a sand bag…sweating and panting…

He is pointless flesh.

Someone is in the gym, crawling over the destruction still left unfixed. He can hear the footsteps and the clawing over broken floor. With shame, he hurries to his feet. He doesn't make it. Sango comes into the vicinity and he is still sitting on the ground, pale and slicked with perspiration.

"Miroku?" She questions so sweetly. "What are you doing?" There is a distant sorrow in her eyes, from Inuyasha, from Kohaku…from himself. He is pitiful…and cruel.

He stands up, smiling that crooked false smile, "Nothing, my dear Sango. I am merely practicing what O'Hara had taught us." He grows solemn, "Is there any news?"

"No. Chief hasn't called…not even if he's found him. Kagome is still crying. Not even her mom can make her come out." Sango grows closer to him and looks over at the swinging sand bag. "Can I…practice with you?"

Her shyness is charming. But he needs to be alone. "No…I…I'm already finished. I'm just about to go have some dinner or…something."

"Should we go find someone? You know, see if there's anything we can do. I'm going stir crazy…and…Kagome's not helping at all." Sango's eyes brim with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so cad. I-I just…I'm trying so hard not to cry…i-it's her boyfriend…sh-she told me she loves him…and…if he were to die…" She covers her face.

He grows numb. "There, there. It's okay."

"No, it's not! Nothing will ever be okay!" She embraces him, needing comfort, seeking it in him.

I can do nothing to help her, for anyone. He stands rock solid, patting her back without affection. He stares across the room indifferently, angry at the pity he keeps putting on himself, angry that he is pointless, angry at everything…even at the one he loves…the one opening her soul for him to see.

Sango notices his apathy and pulls away from him, sharpening up, masking her pain, looking up at him with concern. "Miroku, are you alright?"

No.

He answers robotically, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…"

He walks away from her, grabbing his discarded jacket, "Look, I'm fine. No need to worry. Now, how 'bout you go back, okay? I'm…going to go for a walk or something."

"Miroku? Miroku, come on, what's wrong?" He doesn't listen. "Miroku! Get back here! There is something wrong and I demand you to tell me what it is!"

He freezes, there's a storm inside him, a storm he cannot control. He spins and attacks. She is shocked by his verbal assault. "No! I don't have to do anything you demand! You're not my mother. You're not queen of the universe, Sango! I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to!"

She doesn't grow hurt or spiteful by his words. She understands. She stays calm. "Miroku, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound that way. I'm just worried about you. Please, tell me. I want to listen. I want to help you with anything—"

"Help me? Help me! Why would you want to help someone like me! I certainly can't help you!" The ravine of hurt in his heart is deepening. He can't keep it chained. She doesn't say a word, waiting for more. He gives it to her. "I don't even know why you guys keep me around! I don't do anything! I'm useless…useless…"

His eyes break, his face crumbles, "Why am I so useless?"

She walks to him, so strong, so beautiful, holding out her arms, grabbing him before he can go, holding him so tightly that he cannot leave. "You are not useless, Miroku. Why do you think that you are?"

He's staring at his right hand, over the flawless lines and soft tissue. He doesn't know why he does that. Sometimes he just catches himself staring at it, feeling a sense of loss, of something important, and he is confused as to why he feels like that. Didn't you want to lose it? Something would say. But…

Lose what?

"I'm…so normal, Sango. There's nothing special about me. Y-you're so strong. Inuyasha…well, he's gone through hell and back and he still keeps smiling. And Kagome would stay with him to hell and back too, wanting to protect him. They've both overcome the hate…the hate thrown at them because they're together…and you too. You've lost your parents, your brother is…gone…and…you're all so strong. I have nothing special. I'm…like the fourth wheel or something…a hindrance to you all…"

Sango holds him tighter. "You've lost your parents too."

Such an old wound but it is scabbed over. He doesn't cry about that now. It is queer to not feel a thing. "That was a long time ago. And I wasn't brave. Not like you or the others. That doesn't make me special."

"That's not true."

"Yes it—"

"No it isn't! Miroku…you are special. I can tell you lists upon lists of your talents, achievements, and strengths. But I know you won't care. You'll just say…"

"Those are pointless."

"Yes. You don't care about grade point averages, or how many extra curricular stuff you do, or even that you decided to befriend the hated hanyou at school."

He closes his eyes, feeling humiliated and exposed. Not to her, but to himself. "In the beginning…it was just so…I could like myself. It wasn't for Inuyasha. Not in the beginning."

"I know. You want to know you're not normal. That you are special. And you want that closeness right? From that someone who will think you're special…worthwhile…right?"

"Yes."

"But you're afraid. Call it a stretch," She laughs. But it's a little forced. "But maybe that's why you grope girls. You don't really want that closeness…if it comes with the risk that they won't really think you're all that worthwhile…"

He starts to smile, laying his head atop hers, "No…I think my hands are just possessed."

She shakes with controlled laughter, lightly hitting his back in a scolding manner, "Shut up! I'm trying to be serious."

His smile leaves. "I know."

She whispers against his chest, begins to stroke the back of his neck, in comfort…but to whom? "You want that right? To know…"

To be special. That is a wasteful dream. He's useless. But he speaks the truth. He knows that's what she wants. "Yes."

Sango, sweet Sango, pulls from him and caresses his cheek, "Miroku, you can be so stupid sometimes."

"Huh?" She's changed the subject. This isn't about his stupidity. Hey…wait a minute…

Sango laughs at his bemused expression. And, feeling brave, kisses the tip of his nose. "You are special, Miroku. You're special to me. And that's all that matters."

When did the pain leave? In its place is some kind of peace. Strange. How quick…

He leans his forehead against hers, closes his eyes, reveling in this peace brought only by her. This must be love. Could it really come so young? Had they gone through hell enough…to deserve it? That was a stupid thought. He smirks and sighs.

"Can…can you say it again?"

But before she can, there's a commotion in the halls. Arena runs past the open door, sees them, shouts inside, "We've found him! Inuyasha's safe!"

Sango looks at him. The distant sorrow seems less. Without any words, they hug…and she starts to tremble with tears.

Miroku blinked, coming back to reality. Memories were strange. Why would he recall such a thing as he watched the helicopters retreat from the mansion? Weird.

"They're leaving." Shippo huffed, throat thick from tears.

"Yeah. What happened?" Miroku whispered, sounding distracted. It took time to shake off such a musing.

Rin rubbed her eyes, snuggling back in the crook of the teenage boy's arm, "I'm glad they're gone."

Miroku was thinking slowly but Shippo was on the ball. His back straightened in alarm, "They're going because something bad happened! They…they must have…" He couldn't say it, not that.

Miroku's eyes widened, "They must have finished the job."

"No." The children moaned.

Miroku stood up, fear and adrenaline bursting into his system, creating an unhealthy energy boost; a boost that could get someone to run head first into danger to save someone he loved. Sango! He turned back to the open back of the van and set the kids down. "Stay here!" He cried and ignoring their pleading questions, ran over to Ron who was listening for his cue to start talking.

Sometimes anchormen take such a long time gabbing. Ron Smith danced from foot to foot, still trembling from the gun shots he had heard earlier. He's better get a raise for this load of crap!

Distantly in his microphone stuck deep in his ear canal, he heard an undistinguishable voice say, "And next we have our very own Ron Skyward doing his very first in field report. To you Ron. And could you enlighten us on where you are?"

Ron frowned, hearing the bogus smile in the voice. He was in no mood for acting. This will wipe that smile clean off your face, bozo. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when suddenly more gun shouts clashed against the quiet still of the night.

He and Yukio, his cameraman, both ducked, covering their heads. Screams from Rin and Shippo were heard in the background.

"Ron!" Smith heard from his microphone. Yeah, that must have shaken your socks, huh?

He straightened and there was no need to pretend fear. His voice quavered slightly as he spoke, "This is Ron Smith here at the old abandoned Takahashi Manor, a place of despair we all know to be where the famous and beloved Takahashi parents were murdered ten years before. A gruesome crime scene discovered by their two young sons, Sesshomaru and Inuyasha. Since that time, no one had heard of those boys. They seemed to have disappeared from the limelight brought from their parents, even if the limelight was not always favorable on according to the birth of their half breed son before the law allowing such a mingling of two species was passed.

"But I have good news that those long lost brothers have been reunited and are here tonight; older and with stories to tell; especially from the young Inuyasha, who has been the victim of the worst possible discrimination and abuse that I have ever heard."

Ron closed his eyes and swallowed. Across Japan, along with the news station, people held their breaths, waiting for the explanation of what they had seen before.

"Unfortunately, both their lives and the lives of two innocent teenage girls are in jeopardy this night. From what I have gathered, a past nightmare has reappeared in the Takahashi brothers' lives. The murderer from ten years before is back to finish the job of eradicating all of the Takahashi family and he has ensnared two more possible victims in his web of blood."

At the Eleven O' Clock news station, Takaya was in the background, covering his mouth in shock. Such dramatic words, Ronny, you rookie. The little man closed his eyes. But what have I done? "Why did I let you go? You better not get shot." Where, oh where, did he put that bottle of Tylenol?

Ron, going from memory, relayed all he had learned from Miroku and Inuyasha. But it okay that he didn't have notes; how could he ever forget this?

He did not mention any of Sesshomaru's elite squad, calling them "a secret governmental action" to catch the country's most wanted criminal. He told them of the attempted murder at the mall, Inuyasha's kidnapping, of being buried in a coffin, of Kagome, Sango's and the children's kidnappings, of how all this had transgressed to what was happening behind him.

With sorrowful and terrified eyes, he whispered, "I can't tell you if any of them will make it out alive. So pray, all who are listening to me now, pray for their safety. You may think I'm making all this up…and boy, do I wish I was. Please stay in touch for any updates, this is…"

"Hey, Ron?" Miroku was at his side, not caring that his face was being broadcasted to the entire country, not caring that he had interrupted. He was pale, shaking; his eyes glazed and wide.

Ron looked over to him, twisting his finger so Yukio would keep rolling. "This is Miroku, a friend of Inuyasha and the girls. He was the one who called me in with this story. Do you have anything to say, Miroku?" He wasn't speaking like a newsman anymore. His heart was heavy and his voice was soft.

Miroku didn't look at the camera, hardly blinking by the microphone being held under his chin. "I think I saw someone fall out of the window." He breathed out the words. "I don't know who it was but…Sango…" His chest filled with air and he bolted, running over to the house.

Ron didn't waste a minute; he waved for Yukio to follow and ran after the boy.

Takaya straightened. "Don't go over there!" He wasn't the only one screaming this.

Many wondered: was this real or was it some kind of movie advertisement? Plenty covered their rapidly beating hearts and hoped for the latter. Children being shot at?

It couldn't be true.

Could it?

Miroku could only hear the 'b-bump……b-bump' of his blood, sounding distant and slow; he could feel the veins in his neck pumping and pounding. He vaguely was surrounded by the cold whoosh of breath leaving his lips, becoming white vapor twisting in the night air. He had to go faster. Sango.

He knew Ron was following, he knew the world was watching, but he didn't care. There was a body. A dark shadow lying on the grass and it was lifting a hand, as if holding it out to someone, begging.

He grew closer. Ron and Yukio were gasping. Ron was spinning in front of the camera, shouting, "No! I'm sorry. This is much too graphic. Two people have fallen out of the window. I don't know who they are. But please, I'm sorry, this report is over!" He cut a finger across his neck and Yukio shut off the camera.

Takaya and others around the islands of Japan were crying out in resistance. The anchors were tapping their microphones, "Ron! Ron! What's happening? Are you in danger?"

There was no answer.

The anchors cleared their throats, tapped their papers, and awkwardly tried to get on with the show. Audiences were moaning and shouting at their TVs. But it couldn't be helped. Ron was through.

Skyward dropped his microphone and fought against the tremors in his bowels, telling him to turn away, don't look! Don't look!

Miroku was frozen, standing over someone, his expression inscrutable.

"Miroku?" Ron whispered in trepidation. "Kid?"

Miroku didn't answer. He let out a long whistle of a sigh and Ron shivered as the sound reached his ears.

His body was ravaged in pain but he did not acknowledge it. Could not. Not with the panic-stricken rage filling his mind and emitting from his mouth in whimpering moans and growls.

He was dying. Again.

He already knew this feeling. That inescapable lethargy and helplessness as you felt yourself being pulled, pulled away from reality, from consciousness, from life.

A man once known as Onigumo, a man who had been born again and given a different name, a name he did not agree with, a name that was falsely given by his petty and pathetic human parents—but they're gone, I got rid of them, I'm free of them, they were not meant for me, they were undeserving—but he had changed it at the young age of three, when he was in the background and pulling the feathers off a baby bird, reveling in the squawks of pain.

"I'm Naraku!"

Since he could think for himself, he had been tormented by the memories of failure, and of vague recollections of a terrible abyss where he was alone and tortured. Since he could speak, it had been utters of hatred, of evil. He had been forced to go to school and had searched his peer's faces, wondering: where is he? I am born again. He must have also. And when I find him, I will make him pay. I will make them all pay.

He had killed his parents at the age of ten in a horrible delirium of rage. He couldn't remember what had set him off but he did remember the fog that had cloaked his mind and the hypnotic need to crush, torture, kill, and he had done it gladly. He was born to do this, he thought, as he washed the blood off his hands in the bathroom sink, watching the rivers of red spinning down the drain.

The police still called it a suicide brought on by alcohol. His "father" only drank beer or wine occasionally. But it was enough to fool them all. Little Naraku had smashed glass over his parent's bodies and had spilled the liquid everyway to make it seem like a drunkard had been swinging his bottle around, chasing his wife, chasing his son.

His tears were an extra addition, an extra reaffirmation. The poor kid was mourning. He couldn't be a suspect. And as he was carted off to a foster agency, Naraku had hidden his grin.

He was meant to do this.

There were others he had killed. There were other times he had woken up fatigued and satisfied, smelling blood and death, having it all over his fingers. And he had always gotten a way with it. He was an expert after all, this was his business.

But all that wasted time going to college and growing richer had just been for his life long endeavor to find Inuyasha and Lord Sesshomaru and that blasted miko and that cursed monk, the taijiya…!

Naraku gasped and gritted his teeth as his ribcage contracted in agony. Not again, he was mulling over his past life, he was dying.

Oh, but all those years he had succeeded…he had found him! And the little hanyou was young, so much younger, and he was vulnerable and it had been so easy.

It had been a set back, yes a stumbling block, when the hanyou's father had not trusted him. Always those sidelong glances of suspicion but no proof! Ha! No proof! No reason to fear as he brushed his teeth and readied for bed, no reason to come into his bedroom and find Naraku with his wife hugged to the man's chest and a knife to her throat. No reason to fear…

It had been a difficult fight. But not even a full blooded dog demon could fight against the clouding rage and the inhuman strength that came from adrenaline and such…strong…burning…hatred! No, not when his precious love was in danger, always when their love was in danger could it be done so easily, to give up so easily…

Naraku could feel the cloud humming over his thoughts again but it wasn't strong, it was dimmed because of the death pulling at him, and he growled, he thrashed, he rolled into himself in recoiling pain. He was going to die. He had failed…again!

Kikyou…why was she there in the fog? He had found her too, she and Inuyasha were buddies, he couldn't have that, that shouldn't happen, what an opportune time to torture the little hanyou more…a car wreck…so easy…

And the monk's parents, the taijiya's parents…so easy…he would have gotten the kitsune's parents but he couldn't, they left, why follow? They were gone, vacationing, no need to follow them, crash the plane, and slit their throats in their sleep, no need, and they're nothing to worry about….not now…

He had failed.

And there would be no more second chances.

An evil voice came into his mind, filled his brain, turned his insides cold and trembling, the fear, the terror, no not the Abyss!

You have failed, Naraku! You failed. You lost your chance and there won't be another. Welcome back home, you're never going to leave again.

"N-no, please…let me try again…I promise I'll succeed…."

Now even the fog was whistling away along with his life force and the ability to stay awake. Dragged, kicking and screaming, back to the pit, why oh why, why was it always like this, why couldn't he defeat a simple half-breed…?

Naraku, a man once known as Onigumo who had struck fear into people and demon hearts alike and had tormented a group of shard hunting travelers, laid sucking in his last mouthfuls of air. His thoughts were ending. His life was ending.

He then heard voices and footsteps coming his way.

The monk…!

The boy was staring at him, younger than before, but still the same, still the same soul, with the same memories as him but locked away, not meant to be remembered because that life was over, this life was new, but Naraku remembered, he was meant to remember…that was part of his punishment…along with the…Abyss, Abyss, oh not the Abyss!

The teenage boy—the monk, so young, I HATE YOU! Why couldn't I destroy you!—only stared at him, no expression, and no emotion. The rage rekindled for one final moment before being squashed by the devilish fatigue.

Then something came into the monk's eyes. He was coming closer and Naraku identified what it was…

Pity.

There was hatred and there was anger in those violet eyes but the pity overwhelmed it, softened it, and now there was something more.

He hated that look!

Hated it!

"S-Stop…or I-I'll kill y-you…" No movement, the body had shut down, now the mind and soul was left, but that would be gone too…soon.

The monk was a few feet away when he stopped. He kept standing but the look in his eyes never left; never subsided…I hate it! Stop it!

The Abyss was swirling beneath him, it was engulfing him, wrapping him in chains but the boy didn't see it, couldn't see it, and could not hear the screams of Naraku's damned soul.

He was wrenched into the pits of hell with Miroku's final words echoing and echoing, being swallowed up the Prince's laughter.

"Goodbye…forever."

Miroku was numb. He watched as Naraku gasped, hitched on his inhale, and then his chest lurched a fraction up into the air, exhaled…deflated…and his eyes went dull. The past monk felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise.

He flinched when Ron then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Miroku, hey kid…you, uh…" Skyward could not find the words. He pointed behind him.

Miroku turned and found his arms enwrapping around Sango's sobbing form. He stood there blinking foggily, and hugged her tighter. "Sango?"

"Kohaku! He's alive! Oh, Miroku! He's okay! He didn't hurt him…Kohaku's alive…" She clamored out of his strong grip, cupped his face and kissed him hard on the mouth with desperation. Miroku was stunned but with slow seconds ticking by and her soft, warm lips seeming to fill him with a bitterly wonderful feeling of love…he broke down. Sango was suddenly holding him as his knees buckled. "M-Miroku?"

He didn't say a word, fighting back against an overwhelming wave clogging his throat and stinging his eyes. He had watched a man die…and in the beginning there had been a sense of triumph, he wanted to laugh and point and scream, "You got what you deserved!" Then shame filled his heart, and his eyes opened to see a broken and unclean spirit franticly clinging to life, fear filing past the anger and the hatred. Pity came and he didn't understand why such an emotion would come…for a creature so gruesome and terrible…

He was so confused…because there had been a fleeting moment when he…he had almost…grieved. Grieved for a stumbling lost being and the innocent ones it had destroyed, for the cruelties and mistakes and unfairness of life, for all the other beings out there who were blind and dead inside, for the innocence taken and ravaged…so much…too much…

All of it had tied his tongue and no words, especially the two words which had left his throat, could have conveyed the war in his soul.

"Sango, oh Sango…" He clung to her and she clung to him. Sango cradled his trembling form, the trembling that was from deep inside and not caused by the chill in the air, the trembling that would never stop and soon affected her.

Kagome and Inuyasha sprinted into the scene, glancing over at the embracing couple for only a millisecond, then looking around, trying to locate, trying to find…

"O'Hara!"

"Sesshomaru, guys, over here!"

"Oh my God…O'Hara!"

Sesshomaru, whom Sango had placed Kohaku to before running after Miroku, felt a terrible drop in his chest. His heart had plummeted and in the empty chest cavity, dread and horror filled the crevices between his ribs. His feet slowed for one tiny moment as his brain tried to sort out past the shock. It didn't take long before an explosive command went to his leg muscles and he sprinted to his comrade's side.

"O'Hara…" he breathed.

Ron Smith was at his side, tapping his shoulder, and offering to take the boy. He didn't wait for an answer, instead just interpreting Sesshomaru's silence as a 'yes', and pulling Kohaku out of the demon's arms. The man swallowed, "I made the report…but they'll want another addition…would it…?"

Sesshomaru's shoulders slumped. "Yes…tell it all. I don't care." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, searching for a strength that wasn't there.

Ron looked over at O'Hara's shattered body. "I'm so sorry…" He walked away, towards the vans. Yukio was following him, holding a cell phone to his ear and begging for paramedics to arrive quickly.

Sesshomaru was about to bend down to his knees when a sweet, gentle voice caressed his ears. "Fluffy!" He whirled around, finding tears in his eyes, but not caring, not caring, not now…Rin jumped into his chest. "Sesshy…"

"Rin, you're alright." She nodded and hugged his neck, kissing his cheek.

"I was s-so scared…"

"I know…I know…me too…" He sat in a cross legged position, squeezing her close, and finding a comfort from her warmth as he smelled the heat of life leave his friend. "O'Hara…"

The half breed coughed and smiled. Blood was trickling down his cheek, dying his right eye pink, gushing down from the wound in his skull. But he didn't seem to notice; he continued to grin. Amador Bronte O'Hara weakly spoke, "H-hey Ch-chief…d-do…I get a…p-promotion?"

Sesshomaru's chuckle sounded an awful lot like the beginnings of a sob. "Yes, of course. You…you did a very good job, Agent O'Hara."

Kagome was crying. Sango was crying. They were both holding their boy friends. Miroku's eyes were red and swollen while Inuyasha's were pinched, struggling against tears.

O'Hara turned his head to look back up at the sky. Red saliva burbled past his lips as well as from the gaping hole above his heart. "I-it has been…a p-privilege to w-work with you all…"

James and Arena, holding each other steady, to keep them from falling apart, smiled. Williams saluted to his dying friend. "Y-yeah…us too…"

"We love you O'Hara." Arena wiped her eyes but it was a futile effort, more just came.

O'Hara's eyes turned distant and wistful. "Can you do m-me a favor…Sesshomaru?"

The demon nodded. "Yes."

There was a dreadful pause before, "Please…find my parents…and tell th-them I love them…that…I-I'm s-sorry…T-Tom and S-Sarah…please…" His eyelids drooped dangerously low.

Sesshomaru grabbed his hand, as if doing so would pull O'Hara back from the edge, "I will do it. I promise."

Amador Bronte O'Hara sighed. "Inuyasha…"

The hanyou jumped, swallowed, "Yeah?"

Inuyasha's fellow half-breed stared deep into his amber eyes with an unsettling intensity, "N-Never hate who…y-you are…o-or who created you…'kay?"

Inuyasha nodded, "Oka—"

The Takahashi brothers gasped, knowing this smell.

"O'Hara? O'Hara!" Sesshomaru yelled, clenching his hands on the hanyou's shoulders, shaking him, shaking him, but to no avail. "O'Hara!"

No response.

No mistaking it.

Amador Bronte O'Hara had died right before their eyes, swiftly and without warning.

Inuyasha closed his eyes and pulled Kagome close. Everyone else did the same with their respected partners. All except Rin, who stared at her beloved Sesshomaru as he frenetically shook his oldest and dearest friend. She looked back over her shoulder when someone whispered her name.

Shippo opened his arms and Rin gladly cried within his embrace.

There was much weeping and grieving as a soulless body was continuously traumatized.

Kagura had been about to run out of the mansion along with everyone else, but as she put one foot out in the hallway, a suppressed sob caught her attention and forced her to a stop. Slight shame clenched her when she realized what important thing she had almost forgotten.

The woman walked to whence she came, towards the small white body convulsing in the corner.

"Kanna," She whispered comfortingly, but there was an undertone of pleading for herself to be comforted. O'Hara...are they both dead?

The albino child lifted her amazingly colored eyes, and a sweet joy filled them on the sight of her "older sister". They weren't related, but blood ties did not matter in a world of cruelty and fear. "Kagura!" Kanna leapt to her feet and into the older one's arms. "Kagura…oh, Kagura…Master said you were dead…he said you were gone…and Master…oh no…Master's dead, isn't he? What will we do? Will we die now too? Oh sister, I don't want to die!"

Kagura gathered the frail body close and walked out of the room, quivering from the emblazoned vision of watching her tormentor fall out the window—it had been like a metaphorical display…the evil had fallen away from their lives—and a lingering hatred for the man. He had starved Kanna again, look how thin she was. And for telling her that her only line to sanity was dead…it was unforgivable.

But they were reunited and something bitterly wonderful filled Kagura's soul.

They were free.

"No, sweet sister, we will not die. We are free. And I'm going to take you someplace safe, where you'll have all the food you can eat, and you'll always be warm. It'll be home. Doesn't that sound nice?" She said the consoling words like a mantra. Her focus more on walking slow, instead of booking it…for her partner had fallen out of the window too. What did that represent? Kagura felt an increasing heaviness falling upon her shoulders. She didn't want to know.

Kanna sniffed and clung to the woman's shoulders. "I…we'll never be free…never…Master said so." It was the automaton voice, no free will, no emotion. Kagura knew it well…she had used it before.

"Naraku's gone, Kanna. And he won't be coming back."

Kanna remained silent and in grave understanding, Kagura foresaw difficulty ahead. It would take time for the girl to overcome Naraku's brainwashing and to live a normal life. But now they had all the time of the world, of years without an unbidden fear that you could be "gotten rid of" in your sleep, they both would be patient, and they both would learn to rejoin those on the outside.

Kagura became aware of horrible wails clashing against the calm night sky and a booming, unintelligible voice that was barking and shouting in immense anger…despair. Once she stepped foot on grass, she sprinted across the lawn, knowing her destination was the circle of grief only twenty meters before her.

O'Hara's broken corpse was the first thing she saw with Sesshomaru's hands sinking deeper into the mottled, bloody flesh, knocking the dead hanyou's shoulders against the ground. Her mouth tasted a cottony dryness. Her love's eyes were blank red, contrasting against the paleness of his sweating face.

"Sesshomaru…stop it." Inuyasha only half heartedly said the words, looking to Kagura beseechingly. Help him. Only you can. The boy had given up the fight, and his cheeks were streaked with tears. His face was quickly hidden in the tangles of Kagome's coarse hair.

Kagura placed Kanna down. The girl didn't protest. She was staring with wide eyes at the unmoving Naraku.

"Sesshomaru, you need to let him go. He's gone." Kagura began slow, keeping her footsteps measured.

The demon only snarled.

"Sesshomaru," Kagura touched his back and he struck her away. "Sesshomaru, please stop. There's nothing you can do. He's gone!"

"NO!" Blue light burst from the pores of Sesshomaru's skin and lined his entire being. The aura sizzled and leapt from his tensing muscles like flames. The demon's voice was magnified, lowered. "No."

Kagura stepped towards him, her fingers held out to touch him again. H-he was glowing…

"No! Don't touch him!"

The wind demon froze by Inuyasha's cry. The hanyou was standing and he pulled Kagome to her feet as well. "Get back. All of you!"

"Wh-what's happening?"

Inuyasha shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother. "I don't have the slightest clue. But you need to stay—"

Sesshomaru had released the dead body and was lifting one of his hands. His fingernails had extended and there was something sparkling from his palm, elongating to a beam of light…almost that of a sword without a hilt, growing from his skin.

There was a tense period of awe as everyone stared in shock by this spectacle, and then Sesshomaru slashed across O'Hara's gaping chest.

They shouted, Kagura tackled Sesshomaru to the ground, but it was too late. A long slash ripped diagonally along the corpse's rib cage, and white flickers of fire emblazoned from the wound.

It disappeared.

No blood. No carnage. Not a single scratch on O'Hara's body.

Sesshomaru released a long sigh and collapsed in Kagura's arms.

At that exact moment, O'Hara gasped and opened his eyes. He sat up, touching his neck and chest in astonishment. Looking around at all the pale faces, O'Hara lifted a brow. "Um…hello?"

Tick. Tock.

"O'Hara!" Breaking the spell, Rin and Shippo jumped and hugged the half man. Williams and Arena joined in.

Kagome looked up at Inuyasha's smiling face. "What…I…?"

He kissed her cheek, "Don't worry about it. It's another one of those…unexplainable things." Kagome nodded and chose to enjoy his embrace, feeling a frozen contentment. It was over.

Kagura stroked Sesshomaru's brow and met the past miko's eyes.

They shared the same unspoken message.

It was finally…over.

NEXT UP: The epilogue. Yes, the story is not yet over! Have a great summer!