AN: Hello hello! Here's another little prologue for you all! I actually like this one better than the first one. I just looked and realized that the formatting of the other chapter was a bit bad (And no offense taken, Celeste Spring. I didn't mean for it to look so cramped! I wouldn't have been able to read through that mess, and I wrote it!). It seemed so cramped. So I'm off to try and fix that. This story will be picking up real soon, with a plot and everything, so keep reading! In the meanwhile, enjoy this chapter please!
(Disclaimer) I don't own Inuyasha so let's just move on.
Prologue B: His Prison
He sat crouched in the darkness of the cave, squinting his eyes as though some bright light burned them. This was untrue. There was no light in the cave. Even to him, with his acute vision, it was infinitely dark. His white hair was matted and stuck to his face and neck. His ears drooped. He breathed heavily. He wondered where he was. Why he was? He was sure he had died. He had been meant to die when she died. How else could he have allowed her to be injured, mortally wounded? How else could he have allowed her to be dying in his arms, their blood mixing? He wished that everything wasn't so damn fuzzy. He tried to take stock of what he did know. He knew that he had awakened in a cave of some sort, and that it was magically sealed. He knew he had been slowly coming to himself.
How long had it been? Years surely, of sleepy complacence and the soft glowing light bringing him back to life from somewhere inside him. What could have happened? He had only slowly come back to himself, been able to take stock of what he knew of himself. He knew he was a hanyou, a feared and reviled half demon in an age of war. He remembered vaguely having friends, more clearly having enemies, one in particular over whom he had not been victorious. His name came back to him, flowing through him, comforting and familiar, warm like the blood in his veins. And her, he remembered her, another warm sensation, so much that he knew he had spent months remembering her only. A girl who looked like Kikyo, another lost love who he had known before he had friends, or before he had known his greatest enemy, but was more to him than the other girl, and more to him than she knew.
It was the girl who had somehow preserved him, bound him, with her dying breath. Had she saved herself? He remembered her eyes falling shut, her body stiffening, the glow that her magic had created around her fading. Dead. And yet in his mind he could never hold onto that idea, so maybe it meant that she was alive. Or perhaps he was just a bigger fool that he had dared to imagine. Often in his mind she was angry, somehow slamming him into the ground. She was also often happy, though he knew they had fought many battles together. She appeared to have been more tender to him than anyone save his mother. He also realized that she had never known he loved her. And he had hurt her feelings many times. She had made promises to him anyway.
He finally, remembered his name, almost smiling at the familiarity and comfort in it. Soon, soon he would be able to move from this place, and he would, despite the magical barriers around him, both dark and light. He had a sword with a name strapped to his red clad hip.
He flexed one claw and finally managed to smirk before he remembered one final thing, His red eyes, opening wide in disbelief, his claws tearing into soft flesh that hid under flimsy and unusual closing. He found himself quite suddenly able to move more easily and he dug his claws into the earth as he felt in his memories how he had come to himself so suddenly after that, and how he had actually not meant to kill her, even in the haze and blood lust of his demon form. How then?! How had it happened? All he saw was the pain in her eyes. All he felt was the softness of her flesh under his claws. All he heard was the scream, a scream that could have come from either of them. He shook the memory away. He pushed it all away, growling at the night, knowing somewhere in his muddled mind who was responsible, and who would soon pay, if he still lived. He pushed everything away, until he drifted into unconsciousness. He wouldn't watch her die, not again.
Instead she was spinning in his mind, spinning in a green dress that swirled gracefully. She was spinning, small hands clutching brilliant red fabric, slim green clad waist encircled tenderly by normally rough hands. She laughed and spun in his arms. He heard his voice croak out a single word into his dark prison. "Kagome…"
Inuyasha wondered how much revulsion she would hide behind her pretty face.
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'Till next time then.
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