A/N: I am so sorry I took so long to update. I just haven't been able to
write more than a paragraph or two at a time before I freeze up. I
apologize again. Anyway, better late than never, right? In any event,
there seemed to be some confusion about the last chapter. The youkai
attacking Miroku is not Kagura. She's just a random youkai. Okay, now
that we've cleared that up, on with the chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Synthetic Emotions
It should have been obvious that she was a youkai. The evidence was clearly written in the sheen of her complexion, like old silk, in the way she moved and in the contrived symmetry of her face. . . Oh, yes. It was obvious enough now, looking down into her vivid orange eyes over the brass rims of her glasses. A smile that might have been attractive if not for his opinion of the owner twisted the corners of her mouth.
The pieces fell together in an instant. Miroku grimaced as she flexed her grip, digging her painted nails a little deeper into the back of his hand.
"Naraku sent you," he said, more calmly than he felt. The curse of Kazaana had caught up with him at last. Oddly, mixed with the twinges of fear and anxiety was a thread of relief. At least the waiting was over.
"You're quick," the youkai drawled mockingly. "Quicker than your father was. Unfortunately, you still weren't quick enough to make a difference."
"Are you going to kill me, or make fun of my paternal line?" Miroku asked, stalling for time as his free hand inched toward the only thing he could think of that might serve as a weapon. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the screwdriver in his pocket. "If I might have a say on the subject, I think I'd prefer the latter."
The youkai's lips shaped a pouty frown. "Right now is not the time to be clever."
"Quite the contrary," Miroku disagreed evenly. "I think that right now is an opportune time to be clever." As he finished speaking, he stabbed up in an awkward underhand motion straight at one orange eye and the colored lens it hid behind. The screwdriver's head hit with the sound of breaking glass.
She shot back reflexively, covering her damaged right eye. Miroku pulled away, jerking free of her tight hold at the cost of a little skin. Risking a quick glance at the injured appendage, he saw four neat crescent-shaped punctures marks, each with an angry red welt trailing behind it from where he had pulled free. The wounds were shallow, but they stung worse than cat scratches, and his whole hand ached as the result of the youkai's punishing grip.
He tried to rub a little life back into it as he backed away from her, mind working rapidly to think of his next move.
With sharp hiss, the youkai revealed her eye. The sight framed by her broken sunglasses was not pretty. A thick, murky fluid slid down her right cheek in a sick parody of tears, seeping out of a red-edged hole in the eye itself. Though she blinked the other eye repeatedly, this lid only managed to twitched downward, sending small spasms through the connected muscles.
"You'll pay for that," she promised him darkly, curling her fingers into a claw.
Miroku swallowed the lump rising in his throat and backed away step by slow step. Not that he didn't have a high opinion of himself, but the young man doubted that he would be a match for any youkai Naraku would send after him alone and unarmed. His improvised weapon had fallen to the ground when he and the youkai had separated.
If he could get to his workroom, there were any number of things that would work: mallets, utility blades, and soldering torches. Hell, he even had a crowbar in there somewhere. With that, he might stand a chance. At least he'd have the advantage of reach.
The youkai's shoulders sloped forward as she stalked after him down the hall, cocking her head slightly to one side. Her pace was even as she followed him, feet barely making a whisper as they hit the hardwood floor. Her good eye took on a threatening gleam.
The crowbar might be his best bet if he'd left it out, and he could find it, but he would be wasting time he didn't have if he had to look for it. There was a five-kilo sledgehammer on the wall opposite the door. It would serve, if he could get to it.
"I think you have something going through that quick little brain of yours," the youkai said, momentarily interrupting Miroku's thoughts. She smirked slightly when he jumped a little at her words.
While a torch did sound satisfying, it wouldn't really work. It was too unwieldy, too limited, and he didn't think he'd be allowed time to use the striker to get it started. The crowbar or the hammer were much better choices.
"It won't work."
Miroku sighed, not answering. She had allowed him to get this far; it wasn't too much more to his workroom. Perhaps she would be stupid enough to let him get there.
Was he willing to take that chance?
Was he willing to chance running?
"You don't get it, do you?" she asked, a condescending note coming into her tone.
If the youkai had any intelligence at all, she wouldn't let him go where he wanted, but if she thought he was retreating blindly, she might let him get a little farther. If he ran, there was no telling how fast she could catch up to him, but there was also no telling how long she would be happy with simply playing cat and mouse.
"And here I thought you were smart."
The young man caught the smug expression creeping into her features, the same way it colored her voice.
"I've already won."
Miroku turned and ran, making a split second decision. He heard her feet behind him, thumping softly against the floor, and expected to feel her nails in his shoulder next. His hand burned in reminder of her sharp grasp, but he was able to crash through the half-open door without being caught.
He was halfway across the room before a sudden weight from behind nearly drove him to the floor. Staggering forward, he hit the wall hard enough to make lights momentarily dance before his eyes. Beside him was his largest sledgehammer. He grabbed with both hands and swung it around with all the forced he could muster.
Pure luck caused the hammerhead to collide with the youkai's neck, earning him a nauseating crack and nearly severing the thing's head from her shoulders. She fell to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.
Miroku watched as the youkai shuddered and tried to pull herself back up, her head lolling back at an unnatural angle, but her main neural pathway must have been destroyed. She couldn't get her limbs to function properly. Taking a deep breath, Miroku lifted the sledgehammer again and brought down on the thing's head. A last shiver when through the youkai, then it stilled.
Slumping back against the wall, Miroku unexpectedly realized how drained he was. He let the hammer fall to the ground and scratched the little crescent wounds that the youkai had left him.
A wave of dizziness started in the pit of his belly and rushed to his head, causing the room to weave unsteadily. The floor seemed to wobble beneath his feet. The young man blinked and shook his head in an effort to focus his eyes, but the attempt proved futile as his vision swam. The wounds began to throb suddenly, grabbing his attention. He felt the blood moving through the small vessels in his hand with every beat of his heart.
"Oh hell," Miroku breathed as his knees gave way.
*~*~*
Sango stroked the familiar soft fur of the little feline youkai, letting the tips of her fingers trace her former playmate's shape from the tip of her glossy black nose to the end of her twin striped tails. Kirara did not respond to the touch as she could have once; she didn't lift her head to nuzzle the young woman's palm, nor purr reassuringly. Sango would have liked some reassurance.
"What am I doing here again?" the activist wondered aloud, pulling away and folding her hands neatly in her lap as she studied the deactivated mechanical kitten. Kirara remained peacefully dormant under her scrutiny.
The past couple of days tumbled haphazardly through her mind. She had known before that youkai were dangerous, and knew that they were capable of slipping free of their human controls, but it hadn't occurred to her that she would run across one with a vendetta. She hadn't thought that she might meet a girl with a hanyou and a youkai who both behaved as though they were half rogue or more themselves, but also seemed utterly devoted to her.
Despite his quirks, Sango would have to be blind to miss the fact that Inuyasha was well and truly Kagome's. Was there something special about that girl that changed her youkai? Or was it something that happened to all youkai, but Kagome didn't mistake it for a malfunction and try to fix it?
'Well, here goes nothing,' she thought, and reached for the switch hidden in one of Kirara's ears. She found it easily, moving it into the on position.
One minute passed, then another. Sango frowned, bowing her head. "Nothing happened. . ."
Feeling more than a little silly, the activist put Kirara back in her storage container and closed the lid tightly. Her hands lingered on box an instant before she picked herself up and walked downstairs to make breakfast.
*~*~*
"I told you, you should have sent me," Kagura said, fanning herself languidly. "I wouldn't have had any problem taking care of the latest Houshi."
"Did I ask for your opinion, Kagura?" Naraku asked, shooting her a stony glare. His voice betrayed his short temper. She snapped her fan shut and shrank back toward the wall behind her, knowing better than to push the scowl that puckered his brow and bracketed the edges of his mouth. "Then keep it to yourself."
A long moment crept by before he turned away, and each second she was pinned by Naraku's crimson gaze crawled down Kagura's spine like a chain of ants. Finally Naraku broke eye contact. In a low, self-satisfied tone, he said, "We don't know that Ashieyu did not succeed in her mission yet. Just because she was destroyed, doesn't mean that she failed me." He gave her an oily smile. "Remember that, Kagura."
*~*~*
A/N: Alright, that's it for today. I'm going to find myself a nice hole and try to get some sleep.
Until next time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Synthetic Emotions
It should have been obvious that she was a youkai. The evidence was clearly written in the sheen of her complexion, like old silk, in the way she moved and in the contrived symmetry of her face. . . Oh, yes. It was obvious enough now, looking down into her vivid orange eyes over the brass rims of her glasses. A smile that might have been attractive if not for his opinion of the owner twisted the corners of her mouth.
The pieces fell together in an instant. Miroku grimaced as she flexed her grip, digging her painted nails a little deeper into the back of his hand.
"Naraku sent you," he said, more calmly than he felt. The curse of Kazaana had caught up with him at last. Oddly, mixed with the twinges of fear and anxiety was a thread of relief. At least the waiting was over.
"You're quick," the youkai drawled mockingly. "Quicker than your father was. Unfortunately, you still weren't quick enough to make a difference."
"Are you going to kill me, or make fun of my paternal line?" Miroku asked, stalling for time as his free hand inched toward the only thing he could think of that might serve as a weapon. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the screwdriver in his pocket. "If I might have a say on the subject, I think I'd prefer the latter."
The youkai's lips shaped a pouty frown. "Right now is not the time to be clever."
"Quite the contrary," Miroku disagreed evenly. "I think that right now is an opportune time to be clever." As he finished speaking, he stabbed up in an awkward underhand motion straight at one orange eye and the colored lens it hid behind. The screwdriver's head hit with the sound of breaking glass.
She shot back reflexively, covering her damaged right eye. Miroku pulled away, jerking free of her tight hold at the cost of a little skin. Risking a quick glance at the injured appendage, he saw four neat crescent-shaped punctures marks, each with an angry red welt trailing behind it from where he had pulled free. The wounds were shallow, but they stung worse than cat scratches, and his whole hand ached as the result of the youkai's punishing grip.
He tried to rub a little life back into it as he backed away from her, mind working rapidly to think of his next move.
With sharp hiss, the youkai revealed her eye. The sight framed by her broken sunglasses was not pretty. A thick, murky fluid slid down her right cheek in a sick parody of tears, seeping out of a red-edged hole in the eye itself. Though she blinked the other eye repeatedly, this lid only managed to twitched downward, sending small spasms through the connected muscles.
"You'll pay for that," she promised him darkly, curling her fingers into a claw.
Miroku swallowed the lump rising in his throat and backed away step by slow step. Not that he didn't have a high opinion of himself, but the young man doubted that he would be a match for any youkai Naraku would send after him alone and unarmed. His improvised weapon had fallen to the ground when he and the youkai had separated.
If he could get to his workroom, there were any number of things that would work: mallets, utility blades, and soldering torches. Hell, he even had a crowbar in there somewhere. With that, he might stand a chance. At least he'd have the advantage of reach.
The youkai's shoulders sloped forward as she stalked after him down the hall, cocking her head slightly to one side. Her pace was even as she followed him, feet barely making a whisper as they hit the hardwood floor. Her good eye took on a threatening gleam.
The crowbar might be his best bet if he'd left it out, and he could find it, but he would be wasting time he didn't have if he had to look for it. There was a five-kilo sledgehammer on the wall opposite the door. It would serve, if he could get to it.
"I think you have something going through that quick little brain of yours," the youkai said, momentarily interrupting Miroku's thoughts. She smirked slightly when he jumped a little at her words.
While a torch did sound satisfying, it wouldn't really work. It was too unwieldy, too limited, and he didn't think he'd be allowed time to use the striker to get it started. The crowbar or the hammer were much better choices.
"It won't work."
Miroku sighed, not answering. She had allowed him to get this far; it wasn't too much more to his workroom. Perhaps she would be stupid enough to let him get there.
Was he willing to take that chance?
Was he willing to chance running?
"You don't get it, do you?" she asked, a condescending note coming into her tone.
If the youkai had any intelligence at all, she wouldn't let him go where he wanted, but if she thought he was retreating blindly, she might let him get a little farther. If he ran, there was no telling how fast she could catch up to him, but there was also no telling how long she would be happy with simply playing cat and mouse.
"And here I thought you were smart."
The young man caught the smug expression creeping into her features, the same way it colored her voice.
"I've already won."
Miroku turned and ran, making a split second decision. He heard her feet behind him, thumping softly against the floor, and expected to feel her nails in his shoulder next. His hand burned in reminder of her sharp grasp, but he was able to crash through the half-open door without being caught.
He was halfway across the room before a sudden weight from behind nearly drove him to the floor. Staggering forward, he hit the wall hard enough to make lights momentarily dance before his eyes. Beside him was his largest sledgehammer. He grabbed with both hands and swung it around with all the forced he could muster.
Pure luck caused the hammerhead to collide with the youkai's neck, earning him a nauseating crack and nearly severing the thing's head from her shoulders. She fell to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.
Miroku watched as the youkai shuddered and tried to pull herself back up, her head lolling back at an unnatural angle, but her main neural pathway must have been destroyed. She couldn't get her limbs to function properly. Taking a deep breath, Miroku lifted the sledgehammer again and brought down on the thing's head. A last shiver when through the youkai, then it stilled.
Slumping back against the wall, Miroku unexpectedly realized how drained he was. He let the hammer fall to the ground and scratched the little crescent wounds that the youkai had left him.
A wave of dizziness started in the pit of his belly and rushed to his head, causing the room to weave unsteadily. The floor seemed to wobble beneath his feet. The young man blinked and shook his head in an effort to focus his eyes, but the attempt proved futile as his vision swam. The wounds began to throb suddenly, grabbing his attention. He felt the blood moving through the small vessels in his hand with every beat of his heart.
"Oh hell," Miroku breathed as his knees gave way.
*~*~*
Sango stroked the familiar soft fur of the little feline youkai, letting the tips of her fingers trace her former playmate's shape from the tip of her glossy black nose to the end of her twin striped tails. Kirara did not respond to the touch as she could have once; she didn't lift her head to nuzzle the young woman's palm, nor purr reassuringly. Sango would have liked some reassurance.
"What am I doing here again?" the activist wondered aloud, pulling away and folding her hands neatly in her lap as she studied the deactivated mechanical kitten. Kirara remained peacefully dormant under her scrutiny.
The past couple of days tumbled haphazardly through her mind. She had known before that youkai were dangerous, and knew that they were capable of slipping free of their human controls, but it hadn't occurred to her that she would run across one with a vendetta. She hadn't thought that she might meet a girl with a hanyou and a youkai who both behaved as though they were half rogue or more themselves, but also seemed utterly devoted to her.
Despite his quirks, Sango would have to be blind to miss the fact that Inuyasha was well and truly Kagome's. Was there something special about that girl that changed her youkai? Or was it something that happened to all youkai, but Kagome didn't mistake it for a malfunction and try to fix it?
'Well, here goes nothing,' she thought, and reached for the switch hidden in one of Kirara's ears. She found it easily, moving it into the on position.
One minute passed, then another. Sango frowned, bowing her head. "Nothing happened. . ."
Feeling more than a little silly, the activist put Kirara back in her storage container and closed the lid tightly. Her hands lingered on box an instant before she picked herself up and walked downstairs to make breakfast.
*~*~*
"I told you, you should have sent me," Kagura said, fanning herself languidly. "I wouldn't have had any problem taking care of the latest Houshi."
"Did I ask for your opinion, Kagura?" Naraku asked, shooting her a stony glare. His voice betrayed his short temper. She snapped her fan shut and shrank back toward the wall behind her, knowing better than to push the scowl that puckered his brow and bracketed the edges of his mouth. "Then keep it to yourself."
A long moment crept by before he turned away, and each second she was pinned by Naraku's crimson gaze crawled down Kagura's spine like a chain of ants. Finally Naraku broke eye contact. In a low, self-satisfied tone, he said, "We don't know that Ashieyu did not succeed in her mission yet. Just because she was destroyed, doesn't mean that she failed me." He gave her an oily smile. "Remember that, Kagura."
*~*~*
A/N: Alright, that's it for today. I'm going to find myself a nice hole and try to get some sleep.
Until next time.