By Cynic.
Rating: PG-13 for language and mature themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inu-Yasha. I am only borrowing it.
A/N I had the urge to write an Inu-yasha fic and there are no good slash pairings dammit! So here is a wee vignette. Enjoy.
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Damn Kikyo. She left. She died. She is dead, was dead. Why couldn't she stay dead and leave me hating her in peace? Damn her. Damn her so she could return to me. Kagome leans into my touch, and I ache to turn to her. It burns within me, a want that cannot be constrained or understood.
I do not want to understand.
But I must. I am supposed to be evil. And yet I love her. But do not ask who she is. For I couldn't tell you. I just love her. I am a demon! Yet I was human when I was with her. My heart beat like hers. My heart loved, and would that hers did too! She said she loved me. Yet she turned on me, thought so easily that the pretender was me and believed that I had betrayed her. How dare she. How dare she play into the nonsense spawned of the scum Naraku. How dare she have faults.
I have enough for two.
I have been soured of love and weaned of hate. I no longer care. I no longer want to care. Kagome mistakes instinct for feeling. An instinct that turned me wrong. It was instinct that led me into Kikyo's arms, and it was instinct that killed me. Killed me deeper into the nine hells than any real death could. A demon cannot rely on such base urges. Yet I did. I let lust lead to love, and I did not escape when the way was open. I tested the rope, cut the length, tied a loop, inserted my head and grinned. It was suicide.
But death was sweet in coming.
How do I hate her, while my heart is burst with love? I despise her, yet her image in Kagome's innocence makes me burst with want. Love is far too close to hate, and my hate has made the love stronger. I fear it. I am afraid and I hate it. Inu-yasha does not fear. Inu-yasha can not fear.
Inu-yasha is only fear.
I fear myself. I fear my love. I fear my hate. The mask I wear is good, honed, perfect. None but Kikyo could see through it. And I feared her most of all. She was strong, Kikyo. Not weak like Kagome. One did not dare to presume with Kikyo. It was said she was good. But I knew the truth. There is no goodness in Kikyo and there was no goodness in Kikyo. She merely hid her wickedness under a veil of compassion. And I pray that I will no longer have to undergo her poison for it tastes like sugar.
Damn Kikyo.
I pray it. Damn her. She has ruined me. As Kagome turns her sweet brown eyes to look into mine I damn her predecessor. I wish for her to sink into my embrace, yet the memory remains. Kikyo taints my life even fifty years after death. Her tendrils reach even here. How ironic it was her trying to cleanse the jewel. For nothing was clean with her.
She had said she loved me.
But with any test she thought I had betrayed her. She thought I had betrayed her. It was not the arrow that killed me, but the knife in my back. I am not guilty for fearing she was false in intent. I have faults, I acknowledge them. But Kikyo was perfect. She had no cracks. Her crystal would not shatter. She did not trust me.
Am I worthy of trust?