If You Need Her
by Scribe Figaro
THIRD INTERLUDE: INUYASHA
Humans were afraid of the dark.
Inuyasha found such fear silly, but he himself held the same apprehensions on the first night of the moon. His sight became so poor that he could not see anything but the vaguest shapes. His sense of smell became so dulled that he could not detect an enemy unless it was already upon him. His hearing became so weak that if he slept the sound of nearby footsteps might not rouse him.
He did not sleep in his human form.
He needed Miroku around to be at ease. Miroku slept very lightly, if he slept at all. Each time Sango moved in her sleep he could hear the bouzu's breathing pause. When she awoke and left camp to worry over her brother, Miroku would always open his eyes and watch her go. Sometimes he followed her. Once in a while he would return with a red welt on his face. Sango would not be far behind. She would be angry. Even from the tree branch on which he feigned sleep, Inuyasha felt a bit unsettled. But it was better to see her angry. Sadness sapped your strength, made you weak. Anger made you stronger, harder. Anger can be forged into a weapon to destroy your enemy.
But, just as importantly, he hated to see Sango cry. Not as much as he hated to see Kagome cry, but almost.
Almost.
Inuyasha had found peace with Miroku's resurrection. He still had some distrust until the morning after he had returned to them, but as his hanyou senses returned, Inuyasha quickly realized that Miroku . . . well, he just smelled right. How else could he say it?
There was grave-dirt on him, of course, but he could tell that was mostly washed off and held only lightly to the purple cloth he wore. He held an untainted Miroku-smell, and less strongly was the Sango-smell, the Inuyasha-smell, the Shippou-smell, and the Kagome-smell. Inuyasha could detect all of these on Miroku and knew that such a thing would not be possible unless he was the same man who had spent countless days traveling with them.
And, to her credit, Kagome was more than a shard-detector. He didn't quite understand the concept of a kind heart, but he had an idea. Kagome had one, and she could sense it in others. If Miroku meant to hurt them, Kagome would know.
Both of them would sense Naraku's influence on Miroku if he was resurrected by him. They were fooled by Kohaku, but only because they dismissed Naraku's taint on him, that they considered it evidence of his previous enslavement to Naraku and not his current state.
Besides, Naraku did not have the power to resurrect people by himself. Not without a Shikon no kakerra.
Still, it was unsettling letting Miroku and Sango go off together. It was of course necessary for them to leave for Kaede's village. Miroku could not remember most of his life, and his cavalier attitude was missing along with it. To be fair, it suited Inuyasha's tastes that Miroku forgot he was a pervert. But he also forgot his Buddhist rituals, and a holy man that could not write and use sealing scrolls, or whatever other tricks humans used, was not much use to them.
And that wasn't all. They had told him of the Kazaana, and he had appeared so disturbed by the information it was unlikely he would ever use it, out of fear that he might not recall how to re-seal it. They had told him of his family, but rather than filling him with vengefulness, it made him despair. Inuyasha knew that Miroku would surely die if he continued to travel with them as he was. He knew that he would be safe in Kaede's village, that the old priestess would know how to help him become whole again, and that Sango would protect both of them until that time.
But what if it was all a trick? What if Naraku was not ahead of them but back in Kaede's village, knowing Sango and Kirara alone would stand no chance against his youkai swarm?
If something happened, if they were wrong and Miroku had returned only to betray them . . .
Inuyasha regretted his willingness to continue onward. But what would Kagome say if they turned around? Would she consider him weak?
He couldn't allow that. To be weak – to even appear weak – is death. Death to him, death to Shippou.
Death to Kagome.
No, he couldn't allow that at all.
His ears twitched. Something was coming.
Something very small.
He could smell it too. A young girl. She was sweating, breathing hard. She had been moving quickly for the past few days.
He recognized the scent.
Rin.
He could not detect his brother. If Sesshoumaru was coming, he was far behind the girl.
Something is wrong.
Inuyasha slowly slid from his perch. He reached a hand over Kagome's shoulder and shook her awake.
"Inu . . . yasha?" she yawned querulously.
"Get up. Rin is coming, and she's alone."
"Alone?"
Kagome quickly unzipped her sleeping bag, slipped on her penny-loafers, and got to her feet. She took notice of what direction Inuyasha was watching and strained her eyes to see through the dimly-lit trees.
"She won't be here for a few more minutes," Inuyasha said. "Be ready."
"For what?"
Inuyasha grunted. One hand tightened over Tessaiga's scabbard; the other hovered inches above the hilt.
Kagome beheld him with abject horror.
"Inuyasha! You wouldn't hurt Rin!"
He couldn't tell if it was a command or a question. Perhaps she didn't know either.
"This is some sort of trap. I can feel it in my blood." His voice was low and deliberate. As much as she and the others made fun of Inuyasha for his lack of intelligence, Kagome could tell by the detached way he spoke that his mind was racing, strategizing, and at the same time taking in every smell, every sound, every movement around them.
"Rin wouldn't come here alone unless she was forced into it. I don't know if it's Sesshoumaru or Naraku or what, but something's about to attack us. When it does, you and Rin get behind me. Understand?"
Kagome nodded.
They waited.
The girl came.
She pushed herself through the brushes softly, her hair muddy and scattered and full of twigs, her kimono stained and torn in places, mud caked to her feet and calves and scored with sharp thorns and other undergrowth. Her hands were in tight fists at her sides, and there was a traveling pack much too large for her tied around her waist.
"Kagome!" she cried.
It was as if that strained voice drove the memory of the past minute straight from Kagome's mind. She ran to the girl, meeting her halfway between the old tree that was their camp and the line of trees from which the young girl came. Kagome kneeled down before the girl and allowed her arms around her, not quite meeting at Kagome's back.
"Rin-chan," she whispered. "Rin-chan, what's wrong?"
It was at that moment Inuyasha felt the fast approach of a powerful inu-youki. True to his pompous nature, he could tell his brother had raced to the very edge of Inuyasha's vision and then walked slowly from that point on, so that he could approach from the woods in a dignified manner.
"Sesshoumaru!" Inuyasha called to his brother. "Always a pleasure to fight again."
Sesshoumaru ignored him. As he walked toward Rin, Inuyasha drew his blade and blocked his path.
"Fool," Sesshoumaru uttered under his breath.
"What's going on here, Sesshoumaru?" Inuyasha demanded.
Sesshoumaru stopped mid-step, and something in his face registered in Inuyasha's mind. He didn't know his brother very well, nor was he familiar enough with his mannerisms or countenance to read his mind. But there was something about the way he avoided Inuyasha's gaze, the way his otherwise effortless dismissal of everything Inuyasha said and did somehow didn't seem quite so effortless. Inuyasha's question pricked him.
He doesn't know. Sesshoumaru doesn't know what's going on.
Behind him he heard the sound, the terrible sound, the sliding of metal upon wood and leather as a knife was drawn from its sheath.
Inuyasha turned, seeing the slow arc of glittering blade in Rin's right hand, the shining metal dancing in the moonlight, drawing a path from Rin's back to the general vicinity of Kagome's throat.
The act was done before Inuyasha could so much as take a step. Kagome, eyes wide with surprise, pushed herself from her knees to her feet and stepped backward.
Kagome's mouth formed the words "Rin-chan," but the only sound was a gurgle in her throat. She turned to Inuyasha, eyes pleading, as a thin horizontal red line appeared halfway between her chin and collarbone, encompassing half her neck.
Startled at the voice that would not leave her throat, Kagome pressed a hand to her neck. The slight pressure was enough to coax a fountain of bright red blood from between her fingers.
Her eyes rolled backward in her head.
Her knees buckled.
Her white blouse turned red and stuck to her chest.
Her lips moved.
"I-"
Blood poured from her mouth.
"-nu-"
The scent of blood assaulted his nostrils.
"-ya-"
One hand reached out toward him.
"-sha."
Inuyasha's mind split in two. His hands gripped Tessaiga tightly.
Shippou, mindless, heedless, fearless, lept at Rin, a feral roar in his throat, and met the cross-swing of Rin's blade, impaling him through the chest. With an atypical kitsune tenacity, he sunk his teeth into Rin's hand, finding bone, and disarming the girl.
Shippou fell on his side, inches from Kagome, the tanto's hilt sticking out his chest and much of its blade protruding from his back.
Rin leaned down, extracted her weapon with her left hand, and ran it along her own throat.
Three bodies lay in a pile before Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru.
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow. Clenched his teeth. Sucked in a short breath.
Rin . . .
His mind raced with something a human might call horror, but his thoughts were interrupted by the assault of a powerful youki on his senses.
He heard a low sound, a laugh. Maniacal. Deadly.
Inuyasha turned to him. His face was dark, streaked with the lines of his inu-youkai heritage. His eyes were blood-red and focused on Sesshoumaru.
"Inuyasha . . . you have . . . transformed?"
Inuyasha smiled. One hand released Tessaiga and clenched a fist at his side. The other slashed at the air, testing the form of the blade.
His youkai nature has never before wielded Tessaiga.
He has been driven insane. Tessaiga should bind his youkai blood, but its limit is surpassed.
Inuyasha is a formidable opponent with the sword. With his youkai blood strengthening him, he may very well be unstoppable.
This may be it. The final fight between us.
Seshoumaru drew Toukijin.
"I refuse to believe it," he said. "I have already determined your fate. You will not die here, and you most certainly will not defeat me."
Inuyasha laughed.
With a single effortless swing, as if swatting a fly, Inuyasha sliced the Kaze no Kizu. Waves of deadly energy raced to Sesshoumaru.
"Die."
Author's notes: "OMGWTF!?"
Since I've started this story, its structure and movement has changed significantly, and thus I need to fix a lot of the previous chapters. This is a change I've intended since mid-summer, but I've yet to find the time to go on FF.net to rearrange the chapters. They belong in the same order, but they belong in "Sessions" with the following titles, with the "Interludes" as brief offside events that give me a break in the timeline and move the narration a few days forward or backward.
Session One: Miroku's Journey
Interlude: Asesu
Session Two: Sango's Sorrow
Interlude: Rin
Session Three: The Return
Interlude: Inuyasha
Session Four: Breathe With Me
Separating events this way is awkward at best, but it's the best way I can manage to make such a structurally odd story episodic. I apologize if it's confusing, but I like to try new stylistic techniques with my fiction (and fanfiction) whenever possible.
Thanks again to everyone who have written to me about the story, and thanks especially to those who have been patient as I allowed this story to gestate in my mind. I realize three months is an obscenely long time to allow between updates, but I cannot force myself to write at any pace other than what is normal to me.
That's enough, then. On with the story.
-Scribe