Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
WARNING: This story contains sexual content (if you're under 18, scram! :P).
Author's note: This one-shot was originally posted under my old account, Taney, and was the first IY fic I ever wrote! Feedback is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy! :)
Frailty
"Jeez, not again!"
Kagome groaned in frustration, lowering her bow to the ground for what had to have been the fiftieth time that day. Trusty as the weapon was, she knew it would be of no help to her in this battle. Her hands now free to engage, she turned carefully and leveled her assailant with a glare. Its spines gleamed darkly in reply.
"Stupid plant," she muttered, plucking at the pesky creeper that had burrowed into her hakama.
No matter what lengths she took to avoid them, the vines had been snagging her clothes with unparalleled success. As the day wore on, their attacks had left Kagome with the vague impression that the forest held nothing for her—but, then again, that could have very well been the case.
It was his forest, after all.
Wisely letting that train of thought crash and burn, Kagome gave her thorny foe a final tug, breaking its grip once and for all. Frowning, she surveyed her latest battle scars before taking up her bow again. A glance at the sky told her it was just past noon, though the sweat beading on her brow begged to differ.
She shuddered to think what Sango and the other villagers must be experiencing right now out in the open. At least here a canopy of branches shielded her somewhat from the summer sun. Irritating creepers aside, it had been, in fact, a rather pleasant, peaceful trek through the wilderness.
Which is exactly what was fueling Kagome's present irritation.
According to a multitude of confounded villagers, something had been stealing from their farms for several months now. It had begun with a series of seemingly isolated thefts—a chicken here, a couple of dried fish there. Always overtly random and occasional, to the point where the victims at first attributed their losses to wolves or village hoodlums.
But then the crimes had become rather peculiar. A kettle went missing; freshly-made candles vanished. A drying kimono was snatched right off the line. No wild animal had any use for such items, and all possible candidates for petty theft within the village had been thoroughly interrogated. Thus, the residents of Edo arrived at a unanimous conclusion:
Kitsune.
And when it came to youkai, there was only one person for the job.
"Miko-sama, you must purify the youkai that is plaguing our village!"
"That trickster kitsune will be our ruin, Miko-sama!"
"Our children are next, Miko-sama!"
Kagome really doubted that. She also doubted that a youkai was responsible for any of this. In her opinion, the crimes seemed much more like the desperate acts of a human being than the pranks of a kitsune.
"But it leaves no tracks," one man insisted, crossing his arms as though this settled the matter.
The others nodded solemnly, some whispering "An evil spirit, to be sure!"
Sango pointed out that the thief only struck when and where the ground was dry, so, naturally, no clear tracks would remain. Though retired at present, the taijiya couldn't help but investigate this matter a little (especially after some herbs were swiped from her garden).
Kagome thought Sango's line of reasoning pretty sound, but it appeared to have the opposite effect on the superstitious villagers. At once their whispering intensified, their faces paling.
"Only on dry ground—it's true!"
"Cunning fiend!"
"A kitsune—no doubt now!"
A bit exasperated, Kagome maintained that the most obvious culprit was a human. The villagers maintained that she should purify the kitsune that must be lurking in the forest by day.
"Kaede-sama would never have let this evil kitsune continue to torment us," they added stubbornly.
Well, that did it. If there was one thing that made Kagome's blood boil, it was being compared to a dead miko…
"Kagome-sama."
The quiet address effectively stilled the brewing of Kagome's rage. Her eyes softened as she looked at the young woman who had spoken.
"It does seem like the work of a human," she continued shyly, "but why would a human be driven to steal from us in secret? Why would a man in need be afraid to show his face in our village?"
Why, indeed.
Kagome flung herself down gracelessly upon a smooth stone. She had reached a stream—one that she had not encountered since her travels with Inuyasha. Those days spent wandering with him now seemed to her like a second childhood. Fleeting and detached.
Slipping off her geta and tabi, she dangled her feet in the cool water, feeling far older than a woman of twenty years should. Time, it seemed, had not silently borne her abuse, but had left her instead with the keenest sensation of feeling both stretched and compressed. Young, yet inexplicably old.
Her mind prickled at the paradox she had become, and sometimes it was all Kagome could do to convince herself that she did not resent her fate. Leaning forward, she peered into the clear stream below, tracing its steady current over her skin. Near her right foot a little fish hovered before darting ahead to nibble inquisitively at her toe. Unsatisfied, it soon released her and allowed the flowing water to sweep it away.
Kagome, too, had relinquished what anchored her to this place. There were days she thought of returning to the well, of returning to the future. But two years had passed since her final trip to Sengoku Jidai, and whether or not the decrepit portal could stand for another, it now felt to her like an object too far upstream.
And so she continued to drift without tether. But every river has its end, and Kagome could only speculate about her own: whether it would terminate in an endless sea or a mighty fall. As for this small stream, however, the miko knew clearly of its final destination—an old secluded shrine.
Based on her current location, Kagome reckoned that the shrine was no further than a couple of miles away. Though less than half a day's trip from the village, no one had visited the shrine regularly for at least a hundred years. With Kaede gone, Kagome was probably the only person who even knew of its existence.
Since she had come so far out into the wilderness already, Kagome saw no harm in lengthening her trip a bit more. As the only miko for miles around, she acutely felt her responsibility towards the neglected shrine. The least she could do was tend to it a little and pay her respects. That aside, she was eager for anything worthwhile that could be gleaned from this otherwise useless venture.
Kagome rose so that she stood on top of her stone seat. While the hot sun dried her feet, she surveyed the forest around her. The atmosphere had remained tensely calm throughout her reverie; her surroundings, still and unchanged as well. Closing her eyes, she focused on the various youki that pricked at her senses. All of them were puny and familiar—the same ones she had felt upon first entering the forest.
These were just small fry, weak youkai clever enough to keep their distance from Kagome's immense spiritual power. Wary, they had apparently opted to tail her instead of withdrawing altogether. It was annoying, but nothing beyond that, fortunately.
After stuffing her feet back into socks and sandals, Kagome started off toward the shrine, keeping close to the stream as it wound through shifting pebble banks, craggy boulders and clusters of massive trees. Not the friendliest terrain by any means. Her refreshing dip seemed like a faraway dream as the sweat god unleashed his fury upon her once again.
As is usually the case, the little trip to the shrine turned out to be somewhat longer than Kagome had anticipated. By the time she reached the stream's end, she was salty, sticky, and, altogether, in a mood more inclined to curse than to reverence hidden sanctity.
Still, regardless of the scale, Kagome, like most people, always found a certain measure of joy in any good discovery. As the stream curved for the last time into a granite cliff side, Kagome's grimy face split into a smile.
"How beautiful…" she whispered.
Like a crystalline blade, the stream sliced and parted the lustrous gray-white stone, which was shrouded in moss and flowering vines. Some time long ago, human hands had lent their strength and skill to this invasive effort, and now, though worn somewhat by age, a magnificent carved entryway marked the intersection of water and rock. The space beyond the rock face, where the stream ended in a deep pool, had been likewise altered—hollowed out and smoothed over for the sole purpose of housing a holy shrine.
The shrine itself sat at the back of the cave on a ledge that began narrowly at the entry and circled, widening, around the whole interior. As Kagome moved closer, the darkness of the cavern lightened a little, and she caught a glimpse of the still, sparkling water within. The sight of it resonated with her soul like a clear bell, its tranquility washing over her more strongly with each step she took. Unconsciously, her pace increased until she was almost running toward the source of that blissful peace. Old unbidden memories flashed afresh before her mind's eye—of running toward the sound of Papa's car pulling up in the driveway, of running toward the savory scents of Mama's cooking.
Only a few yards separated her from fulfillment when suddenly a dark form materialized in the opening, partially obscuring her view. Kagome skidded to a halt. Reflexively rather than rationally, she fitted an arrow to her bowstring and took aim at the mouth of the sacred cave.
"Who's there?" she called out. "Show yourself!"
Seconds ticked by, but the shadowy figure did not stir. Sweat broke out anew on Kagome's palms, the bow in her hands beginning to quaver. Had it simply been a trick of the light, an illusion? No, something was definitely there.
Just as her eyes began to sting from lack of blinking, her dark target shifted, concealing even more of the glittering pool beyond. Kagome's breath caught dry in her throat. Her spiritual powers flared and set the arrowhead aflame with raw, crackling energy. Seized by primordial fear, she watched, heart pounding, as the unknown creature inched slowly forward, moving as though with difficulty into the light.
Under the sun's warm radiance, all but two traces of the figure's darkness melted away—the black kimono wrapped rather loosely about its human frame and the waves of inky hair that streamed over its broad shoulders and hid, poorly, a face Kagome knew only too well. And when that face rose and locked its bloody brown eyes with her own, it was difficult to tell, at first, who was more startled by their meeting.
Kagome was the first to break. She gasped softly, numb fingers letting her bowstring fall slack and sending the loosened arrow to the ground with a clatter. Her stomach reeled and churned; her throat worked at swallowing nothing. Inarticulate screams ransacked her uncomprehending mind, its chaos roiling through her features as her wide eyes continued to stare.
"Kagome."
Though frayed by obvious disuse, that silken tone was unmistakable. Kagome staggered back as if he had dealt her a physical blow. A moment more passed in confused hesitation before she turned and bolted through the trees.
A few miles out, the screaming in her head had quieted down to the point that she could finally decipher it. One word alone kept reverberating in her brain—a name:
Naraku
Kagome's grip on her bow remained white-knuckled for the remainder of her trip home. By the time she trudged wearily into the village, night had fallen heavily, but, unluckily, the villagers had decided to wait on pins and needles for her return. They swarmed her the second she entered, ready to badger her to death.
"Miko-sama, miko-sama!"
"Miko-sama, did you defeat the kitsune?"
"Is it gone for good, Miko-sama?"
Kagome shook her head, pushing through the crowd toward Kaede's—and now her own—hut. She was on the verge of both mental and physical collapse, but the villagers persisted.
"Well, did you find it then, Miko-sama?"
"Is it still lurking in the forest?"
"Did you find anything, Miko-sama?"
Kagome paused, turning toward the person who had posed the last question. It was Juro, the man whose kimono had been stolen. Behind him, Sango and Miroku stood, looking at the disheveled miko with obvious concern. Kagome's eyes flicked briefly to their faces before returning to Juro's.
"No, Juro-san," she spoke, lashes lowering over her haunted gaze as she moved away. "Nothing at all."
Kagome spent the next three days trying to convince herself that what she had seen in the forest had merely been a heat-induced delusion. On that point she failed spectacularly.
Here in the village, surrounded on all sides by the utterly mundane, absorbed in the often menial tasks required of her station, Kagome could, at times, laugh off her preternatural encounter as if she were still in Tokyo and not in the mythical, youkai-infested past. But whenever her mind was free to wander unchecked, whenever her eyes and thoughts lingered too long on Inuyasha's forest, the shadows between the trees grew sinister and secret, and cold liquid uncertainty seeped steadily through to the marrow.
With a shake of her head, she would cast off the chill of her apprehensions—knowing, dreading, that in any unguarded moment they would resurface from the depths of her own traitorous mind. Her nights were restless. She tossed and turned and whimpered at lurid images of curving black strands, of eyes that were like blood and mud mixed together. Sweating and shivering, she would wrench herself from the mire of her dreams, one hand straying involuntarily to the empty space at her side.
"It's not real. It isn't real—he's dead," she whispered firmly in the dark. "Pull yourself together, Kagome!"
And she would. Bleary-eyed, she would don her hakama, her kimono shirt. She would pick up her bow and exhale, and in the light of the morning sun her murky recollections would retreat to the recesses and wait. Not for long, though—never for long. Even in the company of others they would suddenly seize hold, and Kagome found herself stopping mid-sentence at the sight of a spider weaving its web, or watching Miroku's palm over dinner as if the kazaana might reappear at any moment—until the spider remained a spider and not a single speck darkened the monk's right hand.
It was a maddening cycle of yes and no. Ceaselessly, the scales rose and fell, Kagome herself preventing them from reaching equilibrium. Willingly, knowingly, she had set them in motion, refusing to let them settle because of a single, feather-light weight that rested on the former side. A weight she had grudgingly placed during the first night, after spilling the contents of her quiver onto the wooden floor of her hut. No matter how many times she counted, she always came up one arrow short.
On the night of the third day, Kagome finally decided to stop pretending.
Weary as she was of paradoxes, she knew the time had come to make some sense of this madness. By all rights, Naraku should be gone—clearly, he was not. Had merely his spirit returned from beyond? Kagome considered this only briefly, recalling as best she could his haggard appearance and his seemingly injured leg. She had seen ghosts before on occasion, but she'd never seen one in such a sorry state.
Setting that aside, Kagome next puzzled over his presence at the shrine. As a hanyou, Naraku would avoid purification, but adverse effects were still guaranteed. Could they be the cause of his lingering injuries? But if that were the case, what sense did it make for him to be hanging around there in the first place?
Brow furrowed, Kagome sifted through what little information she had been able to gather in the few panic-stricken minutes she had spent with him. In the haze of her recent memories, she finally discerned something strange and distinct.
Youki. She thought. I can't remember sensing his youki at all.
She wondered if this anomaly had anything to do with his presence at the shrine. Maybe the holy place somehow concealed his youki? Something in his expression had communicated his desire to remain hidden. But why?—why hide in the forest? Why steal from her village? Why be here at all?
Reaching an utter standstill, Kagome heaved a sigh. Trying to answer questions with questions was pointless. The truth, she knew, remained right where she had left it—in a cave in the wilderness.
So, rolling over onto her side, Kagome temporarily abandoned the mystery of Naraku in favor of rest. For the first time since her incident in the forest, she slept soundly, lost in vague and unrelated dreams.
At the first sign of day, she rose. Armed and ready in record time, she slipped swiftly from her home and headed towards Sango and Miroku's hut, anxious to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. To her relief, the villagers had yet to stir.
Impolite though it was, Kagome entered her friends' home without preamble and made her way to Sango as stealthily as she could. Luckily, Miroku's snores masked most of the noise she made, and, after smiling warmly at the three children snuggled in the corner, she knelt and shook Sango gently by the shoulders.
"Sango-chan," she whispered. "It's Kagome."
Sleepily, Sango sighed. "…stop that…we'll wake the children…"
Kagome froze, red creeping faintly through her cheeks. Recovering, she gave Sango a slightly firmer shake.
"Sango-chan, wake up! It's me, Kagome."
Finally, Sango's eyelids fluttered open. She blinked slowly as her gaze focused on the woman at her side.
"…Kagome-chan?"
"Yeah, sorry for barging in like this."
"That's all right," Sango said through a yawn. "Has something happened?"
"No, not really," the miko replied carefully. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm going back into the forest today—in case people start asking."
"Okay," Sango said, her eyes narrowing a fraction. "But why are you going back? It's been over a week since the thief last struck. Perhaps you managed to scare it off."
"Maybe for now," Kagome assented. Unable to withstand her friend's increasing scrutiny, she turned away, facing in the direction of the forest. "But I can't just leave it at that."
As she made to exit, Sango reached out and grasped her hand lightly.
"Kagome-chan…"
Kagome looked back at her. All the inquisitiveness in Sango's face had disappeared, replaced by the same expression of tender concern she had shown the night Kagome had returned after meeting Naraku.
"…Be careful."
Forcing a smile, Kagome nodded.
"I will."
Telling Sango and Miroku the truth was entirely out of the question. Though guilt surged through her, though wisdom berated her, Kagome maintained her secrecy. She would not allow Naraku—spirit or otherwise—to taint her friends' happiness. She would end this herself, quickly and cleanly and quietly.
Naraku…
Whatever your reason for being here, whatever it is you're after…
Taking a deep breath, Kagome stepped forward into the shadowy embrace of the trees.
I won't let you have it.
Kagome's second trip to the shrine proved both quicker and messier than her first. The vines and branches, taking full advantage of her haste, had torn fiercely at her hakama and furisode, at her heat-moistened skin, at her hair. Dreading the damage control she'd have to do later, she advanced toward the mouth of the cave, keeping close to the stream. A brief scan of her surroundings revealed that her discarded arrow was gone.
When she drew close enough to feel the cool breath of the cave, Kagome slowed, a few feet separating her from her enemy. She had considered the consequences of challenging him in such close quarters and decided that, with the shrine's holy influence aiding her, she'd likely fare better in there than out in the open. Flicking her sweaty bangs out of her eyes, she readied her weapon and entered the cave.
Lit torches dotted the walls, shedding soft light on the space. Her eyes fell on him at once—he lay at the rear of the cave, close to the old stone shrine. His eyes were clenched shut, features twisted and coated in a sheen of perspiration that Kagome recognized immediately as a symptom of fever. Unconsciously, her bow lowered as she continued to approach him, carefully sidestepping the stolen items that littered the ledge.
By the time she reached him, her weapon dangled only limply at her side, his feeble state rendering her inexplicably powerless as well. Overwhelmed by the absurdity of her situation, Kagome could only stare at him in bewilderment. This was certainly not what she had expected.
His jagged breathing sawed at her eardrums—a disconnection. Dimly she realized that to kill him like this would be tantamount to slaughter. Even as her hand tightened on her bow at the last urges of reason, her heart's sympathies won out.
Trembling from inaction, Kagome studied his reclining form. Her eyes traced the darkness that smudged his own, the hair that adhered to his pale flesh. His cheeks were thin—and in all likelihood so was the rest of him. And, as she had recalled the previous night, not even the slightest youki emanated from him. Everything considered, it was almost as if—but, no, that would be impossible…
"Have you come to finish me, Kagome?"
She started at the sound of his strained voice, instinctively raising her bow. Sometime during her musings he had woken, and now his eyes peered out at her from slits in his heavy lids, dark amusement pulling his dry lips into a grin.
Her response was a long time coming. Even after the shock wore off, she still didn't know how to answer him or whether she should answer him at all. Hadn't she come here for answers herself? Internally, she bristled. If anyone in this cave was going to make demands, it would be her. How had he escaped the destruction of the Jewel? What was he doing here? What did he want with her village, apart from food and crockery?
A million pertinent questions swam in her mind, danced on her tongue. But in the end, what came out of her mouth was quite unexpected.
"What happened to you?"
He snorted, closing his eyes.
Growing steadily peeved in the pause that followed, Kagome prepared to leave the jerk there to rot. But something in the way his brows knit together ultimately arrested her motion, and, after a little while longer, he finally spoke.
"I was attacked."
"How long ago?"
"Five days," he breathed out.
Kagome could tell that his bout of consciousness was nearly over. Setting her jaw, she knew she'd only be able to ask one more question.
"Where?"
His lips now irrevocably closed, a twitch of his right leg was the only reply he could give her. It was enough to confirm her previous suspicions.
Leaning her bow upright against the shrine, she sank to a crouch. Only then did she spot her missing arrow. It rested close to his leg, its tip bloody and singed. Apparently, he'd tried to use the spiritual power she'd infused in it to purify his wound.
Gingerly, she reached out and peeled back the fabric of his kimono. There on his calf—bandaged with strips of a blanket—was the injury. With a practiced hand Kagome removed the wrappings and the stolen herbs he'd packed beneath them. Uncovered, the wound consisted of two sizable puncture marks. The herbs had prevented infection but had done nothing to combat the youkai poison that would accompany such a bite. Hence, his use of her arrow—but by the time he'd applied her spiritual power to his wound, the poison had already spread throughout his body.
The remedy was simple enough, and before Kagome's actions even fully registered in her brain, she'd seized his small stolen kettle and taken off towards a copse of trees she'd noticed on her first—and more leisurely—trip to the shrine.
Two hours later found her back in the cave, scraping finely mashed leaves into a kettle full of boiling water. After stirring the bitter concoction for a few minutes and tasting it for a second, the miko deemed it finished and took the kettle off the fire. It was only as she lowered the kettle into the pool to cool it that her mind finally caught up with her.
What am I doing? Am I really about to heal Naraku?
She glanced over at him—watched his chest labor under each breath, followed the beads of sweat as they trailed glistening down his skin. He was her enemy, but when she looked at him now, all she could see was a dying man.
Once the temperature of the potion reached lukewarm, Kagome hefted it out of the pool and made her way over to him.
"Wake up, Naraku," she said tiredly, prodding him in the shoulder. "You're going to have to drink this stuff."
Eventually, she managed to rouse him. Wasting no time, she began to pour the antidote down his throat. It was by no means a smooth procession—every couple of seconds, it seemed, she'd have to pause to keep from drowning him. About halfway through she decided that he'd had enough, and she set the kettle aside to tend to his wound.
Fortunately for him, it was one of those injuries that looks far worse than it actually is. The bite marks, though large, were rather shallow. After washing them with water from the pool, Kagome pressed her hands to his skin, her touch burning away the last traces of superficial poison.
"You're not to steal from the villagers anymore," she said, applying a salve to the punctures. "I'll bring you food and whatever else you need, so…"
She looked up at him. The remedy already seemed to be taking effect—his eyes, though a bit glassy, were open, and his breathing had evened out. And, she suspected, he was now fully capable of speech.
"No entering the village. You got that?" She rose, peering down at him, hands on her hips.
No response forthcoming, Kagome huffed and sat back down. Under the weight of his gaze, she systematically tore a clean blanket into strips and wound them—perhaps a little too tightly—around his calf. Her work done, she washed the last of the blood and salve from her fingers and, grabbing her bow, started for home.
"Those clothes…"
His sudden words made her pause. Turning, she looked at him curiously.
His eyes were trained on her figure with an intensity that she found more than a little unsettling, a phantom smile gracing his lips.
"…They don't suit you."
Flushing, Kagome stared at him for a moment before taking flight. Her second trip home from the shrine was just as much of a blur as the first had been—though this time, it was not fear that blinded her. Uncertain whether the night sky could effectively hide them, Kagome swept a tattered sleeve over her tears as she entered the village.
Once again the villagers nearly bowled her over. Taking her battered appearance as the sure sign of a confrontation, their enthusiasm quickly reached a fever-pitch. Kagome decided it would be best to head them off.
"Everything's been taken care of. You don't have to worry anymore," she declared with as much force as she could muster.
"The youkai is dead!"
"Miko-sama has defeated the youkai!"
A general uproar ensued—one that only time could quell. As Kagome waited it out on the sidelines, Sango came over to join her. Looking her friend in the eye, the miko found that there was one thing she could now say to her clearly.
"He won't be back."
That, and that alone. But it was more than she'd been able to say earlier, and so, all things considered, Kagome counted her mission a success.
Those clothes…they don't suit you.
Kagome fumed, his last words to her still replaying in her mind the following day. After an overnight coup, anger now reigned in place of hurt, and the villagers, sensing the transition, had given her a shockingly wide berth all morning.
The white-hot sun seemed to echo her sentiments, and its descent was noted with great relief as everyone retired from the fields at dusk. Alone in her hut, Kagome ate her evening meal as best as she could through gritted teeth.
If he'd cursed her, if he'd called her names, if he'd insulted her abilities—all of those she could have brushed off with relative ease. But what he'd said to her, what he'd chosen to point out instead, was something she could not ignore. Whether he'd stumbled upon it or sought it out, Naraku had found a crack in her.
A flaw that was true.
How many times had Kagome made the same observation to herself? How many times had she read the word imposter in peoples' faces? How many times had she, in bitterness, dashed apart her own unrecognizable reflection?
He'd only mocked what she herself had mocked, and, rather than offended, Kagome felt strangely violated. As if he'd breached something in her, as if he'd seen something she had meant to keep secret.
Red-faced, she retrieved a basket and stuffed it with all the rice, umeboshi, and dried fish she could spare, including her own leftover dishes. Next to these she packed incense for the shrine—her cover in case she met with inquiry. Shoving all of her many objections aside, she tucked the basket under one arm and, slinging her bow and quiver over the other shoulder, left for the forest.
Once inside the trees, Kagome drew an arrow with her free hand and held it like a candle before her, her powers channeling to a bright sphere at its tip. Instantly her path cleared, as both darkness and dark intent fled the otherworldly light. Feeling the energy flow so freely from her fingers, Kagome remembered a time when such a feat would have been unfathomable. She remembered her frustration, the Jewel stymieing her potential, preventing her from aiding the one she loved.
She remembered the uselessness she'd felt back then and discovered that it was no different from how she felt now. Only her circumstances had changed: The Shikon no Tama was gone, and she no longer had anything to blame.
Kagome arrived at the cave in pretty decent shape. Her feet by this time had begun to learn which parts of the path to tread with care. Letting her powers extinguish, she returned the arrow to her quiver and followed the moonlit stream the last few yards.
At the entrance she stopped, her fickle manners pressing her to make her presence known. Far too indignant to ask for his permission to proceed, she settled for a slightly snappish announcement.
"Naraku, I've brought you some food."
Without further ado, she entered. Both Naraku and his dwelling looked a good deal more presentable than they had yesterday. Cross-legged, he sat in his place by the shrine, arms folded in his sleeves. In the warm torchlight his face shone—not from sweat this time, but from scrubbing.
"How's your leg?" she asked stiffly, eyes averted as she set her weapon aside.
"Tolerable," was his short reply.
Kagome nodded, turning toward him and extending the dishes of food. As his hands rose to accept them, she nearly took a step back. His dark eyes were glaring menacingly into her own, scorching in their accusation.
"Tell me," he said lowly, voice simmering with bitterness. "Am I too pathetic to kill?"
Kagome's eyes, which had widened with shock, suddenly narrowed. His flare in temper had succeeded in sparking her own.
"Something like that," she said hotly, thrusting a pair of chopsticks into his hand. "Now eat while I check your wound."
To her amazement he sullenly complied, and Kagome shifted her attention to his leg. Slipping into the role of healer, she cleaned and dressed the bite marks with an almost mechanical efficiency. Though grateful for the silence that stretched between them, it placed an unfortunate emphasis on the irony of their situation. The thief, the miko, the cave…
Kagome shook her head to dispel the image. Rocking back on her heels, she looked up at him, coloring when she realized that he'd been watching her intently.
"Er…it should be fine in a week or so," she said awkwardly.
Naraku scoffed, returning his hands to his sleeves. "What does it matter?"
Heat climbed steadily up Kagome's neck to pool in her cheeks, a distant pounding in her ears.
"You know," she said through gritted teeth, fists curled tightly at her sides. "I spent a lot of time and effort healing you yesterday when I didn't have to. Everyone I know would have told me to let you die an agonizing death." She paused to think, to breathe. "I never expected you to thank me or anything, but to sit there and—and—spit in my face like this is just too—"
"You still don't see it, do you?"
His interruption effectively derailed her. She froze, her mouth snapped shut.
"A week, a year, fifty years," he continued irritably. "Sooner or later, this body will betray me. This weak, failing flesh…"
Kagome looked at him, realization dawning even as she posed the question.
"What are you trying to say, Naraku?"
For a while he only stared contemplatively at the domed ceiling of the cave, eyes tracing the shimmering patterns cast on it by the pool. When he finally spoke, his words were faint, cold.
"This will be my fourth summer as a human."
In Kagome's mind everything suddenly clicked into place. He'd avoided her village by day out of fear that he'd be recognized. He'd taken refuge at the shrine because it afforded him protection from the youkai that lived in the forest. Too slow to elude attack, he'd been bitten by one, and, in his human form, the poison had nearly cost him his life.
"I see," Kagome said quietly, simply.
There was, really, nothing else to say.
After handing him the rest of the rice and other food she'd packed in her basket and pointing out the locations of all the wild vegetables she'd spotted nearby, Kagome collected the used dishes and, muscles practically screaming for sleep, prepared to leave.
"Well, see you in a couple of days, then," she sighed, already dreading the return trip.
A sudden grasp on her furisode delayed her.
"I haven't forgotten our past."
Glancing back at Naraku over her shoulder, Kagome matched his stony expression.
"Neither have I."
Three days later Kagome returned as promised. In the time that had elapsed, Naraku seemed to have worked out all of his insecurities about being human. His eyes had regained their derisive glint; his features, their sneer.
Vaguely, Kagome speculated that she preferred him sullen. At least when he was brooding, he was quiet.
"I wonder how long it will last," he said, affecting wistfulness.
Kagome stiffened a little at his tone, gripping the basket she had been in the middle of unpacking.
"How long what will last?" she asked cautiously.
"Your pity."
She turned to face him, hackles raised. "I'm not helping you out of pity, Naraku."
"Then, why?" He smiled at her contemptuously. "Because I'm human?"
"Because you need it," she retorted coolly, returning her attention to the basket.
"Hmph."
Before she could revel too much in his silence, he spoke again.
"Acting cold and noble doesn't work for you, Kagome."
She whirled, eyes sparking. "What?"
The expression that met hers was calm, indulgent.
"You're not Kikyou."
She looked at him wrathfully, desperate—yet desperately unable—to counter. Though her blood boiled, her insides churned with ice. Unconsciously, she pulled at a thread in her furisode, unraveling it as he was unraveling her.
"There's more to your actions than mere obligation," he continued smoothly. "Your responsibility is like the clothes you wear—a cover. It only describes you at the surface, yet you brandish it like a shield. You hide behind it—you're hiding something, Kagome…what is it?"
Furious and sad, she wrenched her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "…you don't…that's not…" She swallowed, hands fisting in her hakama. "Why are you here, Naraku? How did you survive?"
He smirked at her blatant change of subject.
"How did I survive?" he repeated blithely. "There's not much to tell. I remember being inside the Shikon no Tama, being wrenched, torn. I thought I was dying, but when I awoke, I was as I am now." He paused, considering. "At first I believed that my condition was temporary, that I would revert. I retreated to the south, fearing pursuit, though I needn't have. My scent has undoubtedly changed."
"But why," she said, trying and failing to suppress the tremor in her voice, "why did you come back? You knew we'd be here, so why…"
"Perhaps," he mused aloud, as though his motive behind returning had never occurred to him before. "Perhaps, I wanted to die."
His words reminded Kagome of the vow she had made outside of Sango's home, before she'd embarked on her second journey to the shrine. Somehow, the knowledge that she'd successfully denied him, that she'd upheld her unspoken promise, didn't bring her any satisfaction. Beleaguered though her mind was, it suspected his use of past tense was the cause.
"Kagome…"
His silky cadence shattered her reverie. Almost lazily his eyes slid down to lock with her own, too focused to be purely speculative, too…
Red, Kagome thought faintly. Definitely red.
"Where is Inuyasha?"
Kagome blinked against the stinging of her eyes.
"I don't know," she said tersely.
If he'd heard the warning in her tone, he didn't heed it. "Why isn't he with you?"
"He…" She choked lightly. Her hands balled to fists at her sides.
"He left you, is that it?"
She slumped to the floor, wiping at her eyes and refusing to face him. Her shoulders shook as she held back the tempest of her sorrow. She would not let him see her break.
Before he could prod her further, she turned. Her eyes were puffy, but out of sheer determination, her features remained tenuously composed.
"We'd only been married a few weeks when the rumor reached us from the north…that a powerful miko had returned from the grave."
Naraku's eyes flickered in understanding. "So, Inuyasha ran off at once to find out."
"No!" Kagome said sharply. "It wasn't like that at all..."
"Feh, how stupid. Those samurai bastards reeked of sake."
At first, Inuyasha seemed to disregard the rumor completely. But, as the days wore on, Kagome would catch him frowning toward the north. When he spoke to her, when he looked at her, it was always as if from far away. Though he never said anything, she could sense his restlessness, and it pained her deeply.
"Go, Inuyasha."
His ears flattened. When he reached for her, she'd never seen him look so wretched.
"Kagome, I—"
"Don't!" she cried, pushing him away. "Don't say it, Inuyasha! Just go!"
"Why did you let him leave you?"
She looked at Naraku brokenly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
"Because I love him."
He scoffed. "How foolishly sentimental."
"Well, I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," she grumbled, rubbing at her nose.
"No, I don't," he returned loftily. "Do you think he'll come back for you someday, Kagome? Is that why you stay in this village, though it pains you—are you clinging to some frail hope—"
A resounding smack echoed in the cave as Kagome's hand connected solidly with his cheek.
"Shut up," she seethed, quaking. "You're wrong—you don't know anything about me."
Without another word, she was gone.
Naraku never outright mentioned Inuyasha to her again. Even a week later, the side of his face had remained visibly bruised.
Instead, he relegated the subject of her lost love to subtleties. To every offhand comment, to every seemingly innocent illustration, he affixed a barb of insinuation.
"Why did you want to become a full demon?" she asked him one day. "Weren't you already more powerful than most youkai as you were?"
Inside of the cave she sat at the edge of the platform, hakama rolled up, soothing her tired legs in the pool.
"Powerful, indeed," he owned, smirking. "But that power alone is useless against time. I wanted to be immortal. The thought of dying, of letting time erase every trace of my existence from this world, was disgusting to me. Back then, I couldn't imagine a worse fate."
Kagome looked over at him inquisitively. "Back then? Does that mean you've changed your mind?"
"I have," he replied evenly. "My current situation is far worse. I am nothing now. To live forgotten, to witness firsthand my own inferiority…surely there is no greater torment than that."
He ended abruptly, his eyes flicking furtively to her own.
"Wouldn't you agree, Kagome?"
As the weeks trickled by, she found herself both arriving earlier and staying longer at the cave. Duty became benevolence, benevolence became fascination. He intrigued her endlessly with his growing dependence, his craving for everything that burned beneath her frigid miko's shell. Whenever she exposed her fiery temper, her heated sentiments, her warm and passionate heart, he absorbed it eagerly, insatiably.
His words and looks dissolved her without fail. More frequently now she caught glimpses of his terrible hunger and knew that whatever restrained it was crumbling fast.
"Ah! How pretty," Kagome said, gazing up at the night sky.
After dinner, they had ventured outside the cave, picking their way along the rocks that surrounded the stream. Kagome, having decided that the middle of the stream would afford her the best view, stood perched on an island of a stone, a swath of tree-less sky sparkling overhead. Even after more than two solid years in Sengoku Jidai, she still couldn't get enough of it. Tokyo had just been no comparison.
One rock behind, Naraku didn't share her enthusiasm.
"I suppose," he commented listlessly.
Annoyed at what she perceived as his attempt to dampen her otherwise crisp and clear autumn evening, Kagome glared back at him. "If you're bored, you can leave, Naraku."
She knew he wouldn't, though. Among other things, he had become her shadow, trailing after her wherever she went. He darkened her footsteps, her thoughts.
Shifting a little in her contemplation, Kagome lost her footing on the slippery rock. As she slid into the stream, Naraku reached out, seizing her under the arms. With effort he plucked her from the current, pulled her into him.
Flushed with adrenaline, Kagome shivered, steadying herself against him. Her heart pounded audibly as she gripped his shoulders, his proximity counteracting her attempts to reestablish calm.
"Thanks," she rasped, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn't slackened his hold on her in the slightest.
It was a tense moment. Her first tentative moves to extricate herself met with a tightening of his arms, a sharpening of his palpable intent. Trapped in his embrace, Kagome swallowed nervously, her mind racing. She fought the urge to face him, unsure of what she'd see.
He certainly wouldn't be looking at the stars.
Summoning all her strength, Kagome placed her palms firmly against his chest.
"Let go of me, Naraku," she said as coldly as she could, pushing back.
To her surprised relief, he acquiesced. But there was a sluggishness in his movements, a smugness in the ghosting of his fingertips against her back. As if his actions were merely a gesture. Done only to humor her, to tease her.
With newfound agility, Kagome hopped to shore, Naraku in her wake. They covered the short distance back to the cave in silence, Kagome grimacing at the dark smile that branded her from behind. She could feel him stalking her, driving her into a corner, and she had no choice but to let him. Her only defense remained therein, leaning against the shrine where she had left it.
Once inside his territory, she showed no outward signs of fear, but she knew he could sense it as well as any other predator. As she bent to retrieve her bow, she heard the rustle of fabric close behind her—too close. Tensing, she waited for the strike.
Slowly, purposefully, an arm snaked around her, long fingers spreading flat against her belly. With the slightest pressure he drew her back, and Kagome felt a soft brush against her neck and cheek, his other hand freeing her hair. Her chest clenched violently as he sighed into her tresses, fingers weaving into them, nails scraping a little at her scalp. She followed the downward course of his breath with a shudder, gasping when he pressed cool lips to the skin just behind her jaw.
The hand not occupied with her bow grabbed convulsively at the one on her stomach. As his tongue began to slide along the delicate shell of her ear, she jerked, prizing his fingers from her frame. In her brief gain of space she turned on him, nocking an arrow in an instant.
"Get back!" she commanded hysterically, the tip of her arrow an inch from his face.
His crimson eyes seared, narrowing in anger. Her spiritual powers were useless against a human, but that wouldn't make her arrow any less sharp. He neither backed down nor opposed her as she edged around him, careful to keep her aim until well outside of the cave.
Disappearing into the trees, she finally relaxed. At this distance, the odds that he'd pursued her were slim to none. It just wasn't in his nature.
A spider waits on his prey to come to him.
In the few dark hours remaining before dawn, Kagome cried.
For the first time, she understood why Inuyasha had left her, why even the mention of Kikyou had held more sway over his heart than a lifetime with her ever could. Because she and Inuyasha were two of the same kind.
Fire likes fire, she mused, but more than that, it likes to spread.
She thought of Naraku, of his frozen wasteland of a heart. Enough space in it for her to burn forever. With each silken word he'd snared her, drawing her closer, drawing her in. He wanted her—her warmth, her tenderness. He wanted to hold her inside of himself.
So he'd given her the illusion of control, letting her come and go as she pleased. His humanity had elicited her sympathies, luring her, disarming her. Catching her off guard, he'd dissected her resistance. He'd learned that she'd lost her faith in Inuyasha. Forsaking the protection such hope afforded her, she could only bolster her resolve with her identity as a miko. But it was a flimsy defense.
Slowly, carefully, then, he'd begun eroding her armor. Each time she saw him her shielding was more brittle, more thin. She sweated beneath it, ached beneath it. He made her suffer beneath it to the point where, earlier tonight, she had almost cast it off entirely. Had almost ceased her struggling, had almost let him take her.
Tear-stained, panting, she raised trembling fingers to her ear and wondered how a kiss so cold could still be burning hours later.
"Kagome-chan, Miroku told me that you've been going into the forest alone after nightfall."
Kagome paused. After seeing to some sick children in the morning, she'd offered to assist Sango with her afternoon chores. Even the task of hanging wet laundry on the line was proving a challenge to her following her sleepless night, but Sango's probing statement hit her like a bucket of cold water.
Flashing a soft smile, she nodded. "Several months ago I found an old shrine in the forest. I remembered it from our travels, and I've been visiting it ever since."
Actually, I've never prayed there once, Kagome thought suddenly with a twinge of guilt.
"I don't remember a shrine in the forest," Sango said, forehead creasing.
"Eh…I mean…I remember it from—from my travels with Inuyasha," Kagome stammered, coloring. "Before you guys joined us—when it was just the two of us…"
Sango's dubious expression vanished at once. Sorrow and understanding shone in her eyes.
"I-I see," her friend said, abashed. "Forgive me, Kagome-chan."
"No, that's all right!" Kagome said quickly. "I should've told you before, I just…didn't know how to bring it up."
And I still don't. And I never will bring it up, if I can help it.
Naraku had caused the deaths of Miroku's father and grandfather, Sango and Kohaku's entire village, Inuyasha's Kikyou—had Kagome experienced similar loss at his hands, she could never have forgiven him. Like all the others, even she would have hated him enough to let her arrow fly without hesitation. But as it was…
She was a traitor, in everyone's eyes but her own.
Kagome knew that this amounted to very little, but it was enough to justify her weak heart in its pursuits. It was enough to disgust her, but not enough to deter her.
No, forgive me, Sango-chan.
Sango, for her part, left the subject of the shrine alone. Anything that Kagome found comfort in, found peace in, was welcome in her eyes. And, from what Sango could tell, the shrine appeared to have supplied Kagome with that.
The joy of discovery was evident in her face.
That night, when Kagome went to him, she brought only what he really wanted.
Dressed once more in her modern clothes, with nothing in her hands but a lantern and a small spare bow, she moved lightly through the forest. Despite the chill that assaulted her bare legs, Kagome felt warmer than she had in years. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistened. Beneath her shoes, she heard the satisfying crunch of dead vines breaking.
Every now and then a breeze would filter through the trees, lifting and tossing aside her unbound hair just like he had done the night before, and she would shiver with anticipation. Her heart beat restlessly, anxiously—a furnace behind her ribs.
At the entrance to the cave she stopped. By lantern light she studied the graceful patterns etched into the stone. Most clearly now she saw the full extent of his web, all of its intricacies displayed before her. Seeing it, knowing it, she blew out the flame in her lantern and, setting it aside, strode forward.
Preoccupied with roasting fish over a small fire, Naraku didn't notice her at first. When she let her bow fall to the ledge with a clatter a moment later, he spun around to face her, wide-eyed. His surprise wore off quickly, though, and Kagome fidgeted a little as he glanced appreciatively at her change in outfit.
"I didn't think you'd be back," he said, returning to the fish.
Kagome resisted the urge to call him a liar.
Instead, she decided to save his meal from becoming a cinder. Making her way over to him, she took charge of the spitted fish, rotating them above the flames.
"Aren't you cold, dressed like that?" he asked casually, a wry grin playing at his lips.
"No," Kagome said, smiling slightly in return.
A few minutes later, she removed the skewer of fish. After an experimental pick, she whipped her hand back.
"Ow!" she exclaimed, shaking her wrist vigorously. "Kami, that's hot…"
As she rose with the intention of dousing her hand in the pool, Naraku's own hand shot out, grasping her forearm, pulling her back down. Only a small part of Kagome's shell-shocked mind registered the fact that she was sitting in his lap. The vast majority of her attention was riveted elsewhere.
Breathlessly, she watched his hand advance towards hers, his thumb gliding gently over the soft underside of her arm. Reaching her palm, he smoothed back her furled fingers, lifting their scorched tips to his mouth.
At the first gust of his breath against her skin, Kagome jumped, prompting Naraku's free hand to latch onto her hip. She knew that he meant to restrain her, to prevent her escape. But he needn't have bothered—running away from him was the furthest thing from her mind.
Through the thickening haze, she saw him pull her fingers past his lips, the first caress of his damp tongue rendering her own mouth dry. His teeth grazed her knuckles lightly, her fingers twitching as he enveloped them with his lips, his tongue. Steadily, he lapped at her flesh, flicked at her nails—each stroke agonizingly longer than the last.
From where it bubbled in the pit of her stomach, desire began to seep. It grew to a flood, bathing everything below her waist in delicious heat, steeping strongest between her thighs. It coursed through her veins, scalded her heart and lungs, sent steam through the pores of her skin in heady waves. It seared her mind and raged behind her eyes. And still he was…he was…
Kagome shut her eyes against the onslaught, imagining.
When she opened them again, her moist fingers were smeared across his cheek, her palm hovering over his panting mouth. His hand still covered her own as he gazed at her with hooded eyes.
"Better?" he murmured into her palm.
"Yeah," she managed weakly.
And it was true. Her torrent of desire had drowned out every other feeling, pain included.
Easing her uninjured hand up and the one on his face back, Kagome slowly angled his head down toward her own. His arms encircled her, dragging her in. The first brush of her lips was hesitant, testing—the barest whisper of a kiss. Emboldened by the hitch in his breath, she lingered, hugging him close as she moved in for another.
Opening her mouth against his, she breathed into him and fed his starving heart.
He responded immediately, half his fingers splaying between her shoulder blades as the rest buried themselves in her hair. Slanting his lips against hers, he deepened the kiss, tasted her tongue, her teeth, her essence. Gripping his shoulders, Kagome arched into him, her whimpers smothered in his relentless exploration.
As they paused to breathe, he cradled her face in his hands, leaning his forehead against her own. When he drew back slightly to look at her, his thumbs quivered on the apples of her cheeks.
"Stay with me."
Through his thinly-veiled command, Kagome discerned a plea. Feebly it glimmered in his shadowed eyes, a pinprick of warm light. She stared at it wonderingly, in awe of what she herself had planted.
Tenderly, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, her lashes fluttering over his cheek. She felt his hands trailing down her neck, his lips lowering to her throat even as he lowered her to the blankets on the floor. With hot, opened-mouthed kisses he covered her from chin to collar, one hand clutching her arm while the other slid up her thigh. Knees slightly bent, Kagome sighed when he paused his ministrations, her hand fisted in his hair—completely unprepared for what came next.
Before she could gasp in shock, he'd crushed his mouth to hers, running his thumb torturously over her captured breast. The hand on her thigh temporarily abandoned its course, slipping under her loose blouse instead. At the contact her stomach muscles flinched, and her head fell back, ending their kiss.
Without missing a beat, Naraku hauled her up, his lips on hers once again as he tugged at her shirt. Relinquishing her hold on the front of his kimono, she lifted her arms to aid him, only retreating from his mouth at the last possible moment of the removal. Her bra proved to be more of an obstacle, and he fumbled with it for a few seconds until Kagome grew agitated enough to unfasten it herself.
A little embarrassed, she tried to divert his attention from her exposed chest with another kiss. Unsurprisingly, her efforts were futile. Holding her at a slight distance, Naraku gazed at her for what seemed an excessive amount of time before he finally inclined his head to her breast.
She shuddered, his name leaving her mouth in a moan as he licked and suckled at her sensitive flesh, his hands ensuring that the rest of her chest felt no neglect. In the mad scramble that followed, Kagome could never recall who took off what—only that by the end of it they were both naked and on the floor again.
Naraku loomed above her, his hands on either side of her face. He groaned as her fingers explored his bare chest, glided over his stomach, brushed teasingly between his legs.
"Stop that, Kagome," he whispered huskily, shivering.
When she pointedly ignored him, he shifted, bringing his hand to the juncture of her thighs. Stifling her whimpers with his lips, he teased her, invaded her. To Kagome it seemed almost like a formality now, a physical representation of something he had been doing for months—from the moment he'd first spoken her name in the wilderness.
She writhed beneath him, begging wordlessly for the only type of release he would give her. Sensing her need, he removed his slick fingers, settling himself against her hips. As he entered her, something inside her snapped like the breaking of a promise.
She cried out, mesmerized by his burning gaze as he moved within her. He filled her as she had filled him, reveling in her softness, tangling them together inextricably. With limbs, with hair, with threads of radiant heat.
Greedily he feasted upon her, siphoning her euphoria, accelerating them both toward the same conclusion. Kagome reached it first, her nails digging into his back as she ruptured with fiery bliss. Lost in its crashing tide, Naraku quickly joined her.
Panting in the aftermath, he pulled out of her only to pull her into him. Tracing her curves, he kissed her brow, her nose, her cheeks and lips. He inhaled her, embraced her with distinct possessiveness, with no small amount of ferocity. Trapped willingly in the cage of his arms, Kagome realized that being human hadn't made him any less of a monster.
But she didn't want him any less for it, either—though certainly she should.
Love, she acknowledged, as she drew him gently inside her again, had always been her greatest weakness.