Disclaimer: No, I'm not making any money off of this. I'm just a poor thirteen-year-old with a bad disposition and a strong liking for strange alternate pairings that, more or less, don't make any sense whatsoever. Please, by all means, sue, so I can laugh heartily in your face, and don't expect any money coming out of me. 3
Summary: Naraku has kidnaped Sango and Shippou, and Miroku finds himself on a solo journey to rescue them. The problem? He doesn't have a clue where to find them, and the only one who can show him happens to be a wind goddess who he can't seem to hate anymore… [Kagura/Miroku]
Notes: Italics are thoughts or emphasis on a word, such as hey. It also is used for dream sequences and flashbacks. As you can see, I happen to like italics. If you would like to know when this story is updated, please go to my user page for the link to my mailing list, and sign up! Once added, you'll get all the updates on my stories and such. ^_^ Revised as of 02/18/04, thanks to the suggestions made by Lynnxlady (go hug her, everyone). This probably will be rewritten many times over again in the future too.
Acknowledgements + Dedications @ Bottom.
An Inuyasha Epic by SnowEyes
It was the season of the light rose.
The glorious Indian summer had only just begun. They tracked through fields of hay and golden wheat, the long stalks whispering to the ground as the trees along the edges of the forests bristled at the touch of a human hand. The vines along the forest floor crinkled their leaves at the far away sun, and held fast to the terrific trunks of the trees, cracked bark peeling from the old spirits of the stalks. Smooth rains during the light spring had covered the soil with a light dusting of dampness, the red earth clinging to the sides of wooden sandals as they moved across the light dirt of the pathways, the sun softly pattering on their backs and the short breezes at their back.
And two beautiful human girls stood in the midst of it all -- the harvest moon just barely beginning to appear by the side of the horizon -- and took a deep breath of the sweet air.
He grinned at them, as he leaned against his shakujo in the dimming light of the late afternoon, watching them swing their resident fox-cub into the air as the small fox giggled with glee from side to side. He spread his fingers into the bright grass still covered with morning dew. They'd hiked through the damp rice pastures and waving shields of wheat through the day, stopping ever so often to greet demons and humans alike on the long winding mountain paths. This was his sanctuary -- he'd been born in a mountain shrine, one built long ago by his grandfather's ancient hands, and the air alone released the tension in his shoulders. He felt more alive then he had in weeks; his lungs filled with the magnificent air that, besides making him very dizzy, made him feel full and relaxed and happy.
Miroku could not remember the last time he'd been happy.
Kagome had left her bike at home as a decision to walk with the rest of them, and obviously was very proud of herself for not making a single peep of complaint to the traveling group as they went along. She and Sango had chatted merrily as they'd continued with long wooden branches for hiking sticks, while he himself had played quiet games with Shippou and let the cub sleep on his shoulder. Inuyasha had clasped his hands inside his robe and led them as usual, and had answered Kagome's bright questions with customary grunts, but she didn't bother him about it, and they were, for once, free of the bickering that the two seemed to engage themselves in day and night. And now they were here, in the paved fields of gold before Kaede's village, and the forest that loomed in front of them, dark and brushed with sky.
Inuyasha, of course, being Inuyasha, was now sitting cross-legged above him at the top of the hill, and paid no mind to any of it; his feet were tucked under him and his arms were crossed in front of his chest in a huff. His long white hair flowing over his red robe as he sat solitary on the hill. He was… "Oi," he called up to his younger companion with his head tilted, questioning, "Inuyasha, are you pouting?"
Grunt.
"Yes or no?"
Grunt.
"Fine," Miroku mumbled. The hanyou was probably just sick with anger at Kagome's leaving; he scolded himself silently for even wondering of the reason. They'd finally stopped for the night -- the summer days were longer, and they'd decided that, rain or shine, they'd stop to eat and rest at sunset. He glanced back at Kagome, who was laughing lightly and beaming rays of goodness that made his heart lighter just looking at her, and sighed. At least her heart knows what it wants…
He decided to forget about it and sighed contentedly, wrapped his arms behind his head, and grinned a few moments later as a certain savvy female swayed over to him and plopped -- gracefully, of course -- to the long grassy knoll beside him. She was cradling a furry red ball in her arms, close to her chest, which hummed with light sighs.
"Sango-chan," he said quietly, wrapping his fingers around the ball of fluff and transferring the yawning cub into his lap, "where did…"
She pointed softly up to the top of the hill and he nodded, understanding, as she stretched her arms and yawned, then lay down beside him on the soft grass. He watched as her eyelids fluttered gently till they reached the end of their journey.
His fingers began to twitch.
He sat on them.
H got up quickly and walked quietly toward the nearby field with Shippou in his arms. She hadn't had much sleep recently, he thought, biting his bottom lip, and that was partly due to him. An odd feeling crept along his spine and made him squirm uncomfortably, and after a moment he recognized it as guilt.
Well. That was unusual.
The last glimmerings of light disappeared below the horizon of the endless line, pink clouds fluffed softly, melted with golden mounds like butter in the sky. A small, wet nose rubbed against his hand sleepily. "Nachan," came the small whine from the form in his arms, "I wanna go sit by K-Ka-" Yawn. "-Ooome."
Nachan… his stomach twirled in surprise and he felt an irrepressible grin crossing his face, and he ruffled the blue bow that was tied from the small demon's hair and tweaked the small nose. "Alright," he managed, now glowing, "…sure."
He stared back up at the lady in question, who was currently leaning against Inuyasha, hands wrapped in the hanyou's, and he swallowed. Looked back at the blinking boy in his arm. Couple. Boy. Couple. Boy. "Umm…" he murmured, and moved a hand behind his back, biting his lip. "They're busy."
Shippou blinked sleepily up at him, mumbled something about filthy dogs, and snuggled deeper into his anointed older brother's robes, burying his nose in the crook of his arm. Miroku's grin was now taking up a very substantial part of his face; so that was what it felt like. He sat at the edge of the grassy knoll where the hill met the dirt path across from the wheat field, and stared down at the snoring boy in his arms, the demon's fluffy brown tail waving in his face and tickling his nose.
"Houshi-sama...?" A light hand fell on his shoulder and looked up to see Sango with a soft smile on her face and quiet defiance in her eyes, her hair wrapped in a thick braid around her shoulder, her face still flushed with sleep. "There's a stream near the forest," she said, "Kagome-chan and I will go to the well, and then I will go to bathe with the girls of the village, and --"
Her eye twitched at his delighted look; two seconds later he was sprawled out on the ground, and she was smiling somewhat detachedly, yawning, and -- unconsciously, of course -- his eyes sprawled down for a hint of cleavage…
(How does she do that?) he thought lazily, his head pounding as he clutched Shippou, his vision whirling as he stumbled a bit up the hill. He winced as a pair of sharp tiny claws flexed against his chest. (And how does he manage to sleep through all that?)
He waved to Kagome and Sango with finality as they transferred their packs to their shoulders and walked down the hill waving back, and sighed quietly. He was suddenly very tired and sat back down. He nodded as Inuyasha began a brisk pace towards a forest path in the opposite direction of the girls, obviously off to go hunting; Miroku was glad. The hanyou had been restless since the last new moon -- perhaps this would calm the boy's nerves a bit. He was, after all, still a boy, and was still as moody as any human teenager.
Long day, it'd been -- two demons with Shikon shards and three evil humans which just apparently "happened" to pass their way. He'd reached a quiet theory that these youkai either wanted to be killed or they were just insane... yawn. The ground was deliciously warm... anyway…
…Anyway…
========
…He was standing on the edge of his grandfather's grave.
He stood there, hands clenched, teeth bared, at the large, grass-covered grater at his feet. As he looked down the crater that seemed to deepen the closer he stared at it, panic gathered itself behind his eyes and he began to shake; fog shifted across the edges of his vision, and all he could see was that -- that thing. He was shrinking, shrinking, and the crater was deepening, deepening, until the bottom of it could not be seen save for pitch dark black. It was widening, now, too, the edges beginning to curl at the tip of his sandals, and he heard his own choked scream float past his ears. He was a boy again, nothing but a boy, the hard chorus of his breathing pushing his lungs up and outward as he wailed as the blood red of the sky suddenly flooded his vision.
"Otousaan!" he screamed. "Otousaaaaan!!"
His feet now suddenly refused to move and he was rooted to the spot with fear being pulsed in endless waves through his blood, and with a loud cracking noise, the world fell apart, and he was falling -- falling! -- and he could see no more of the red sky or the waving grass or the shrine in the center of the crater -- nothing but darkness and he screamed --
--And sat up with a gasp, panic rising and falling in his chest as he fought for breath, and peered around him with acute fear, his head swimming, his eyes blinking rapidly as he strained to see around in the pitch black. He panted with perspiration and stood dizzily, holding his shakujo so tight that his knuckles turned white, and whirled around, squinting in the dark light that shone down from the sliver of the moon above his head. The field was dark, save for the moon. His legs were suddenly weak and he sat down heavily, ran a shaking hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling beads of sweat adorning his temples and neck. It was then that he realized it, and stiffened, his hands running through thin air, his eyes so wide they stung.
"Shippou?" he whispered.
And that was when he heard it.
The scream was wavering and high-pitched, ringing in his ears like bells, the indignant squawks of wild birds that had been disturbed from their roosting nests chorusing from the flocks overhead. The sound of it pierced through his chest like a purifying arrow, and shock briefly staining his vision black, pressing him to his feet. His heart pounded fretfully in his chest as the sudden dead silence fell over him like a suffocating blanket, and he whimpered streaming curses under his breath, tearing across the thick patches of grass and cutting through the darkness with shaking fingers.
He snarled, the blood running across his lips staining his mouth with a copper taste that made him dizzy with power, his fangs biting deep into the edges of his curled lips. His heartbeat pulsed in his arms as he moved swiftly, his legs bending and flexing over felled trees and old wicket branches knurled with age, and screamed at the feeling of his flesh being torn to bone at the touch of cold sword hilt.
"Naraku, you bastard," he spat, blood staining his vision red. "You'll pay for this."
The voice came from all directions, flitting in between the old spirit trees of the forest. "What?" It came, quietly, mockingly, from the shadows, the tone of it making him want to tear shreds upon shreds of skin. "For this --" There he was, in front of him, the white fur of the monkey pelt gleaming silently in the light of the moon, the claws tearing into the base of the spine of a small girl child, blood streaming from the gashes in her neck. Her eyes were blank and wild with knowledge of the dead. "--For this child?" A grin showed itself from below the mask. "Hn. Why, Inuyasha! I expected so much better of you."
"She had nothing to do with this," he heard his voice ring out, rage pulsing in every syllable. "She had nothing to do with it! Monster. Monster." His hands shook along the hilt of the fang at his side, the glowing bone illuminating the blood that trickled from various wounds across his chest down along his legs and feet, gashes leading across his back and arms bleeding fretfully. He didn't feel them.
"I'LL TEAR APPART EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY!" He screamed, lifting the fang above his head. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
But as he screamed, the fang crashing to the ground, pain gripped his body like an avalanche and he fell to the roots of the trees with a startled cry, claws clipping at bark as blood trickled down his face. The white monkey flitted within an instant to his side, the boy's blood staining the pale fur of the costume itself.
"Kukuku." The soft whimpering breaths of the dog-boy beneath the white fur rose and fell laboriously, as Inuyasha hurled himself to his feet, clutching his arms against his chest, legs torn and cut. Blood was everywhere; he spat, blood mixing with saliva and melting into the earth, and cursed loudly as the monster in front of him laughed with sweetened malice.
"Boy," came the soft murmuring. "You are nothing to me, boy." Swish swish. "Nothing. I could kill you in an instant, boy, I could kill you in an instant. In fact…" Bright white teeth flashed at him in the darkness, vines wrapping themselves around his legs and sucking the blood from his wounds, making his head feel light and his heart pound in his ears. "I think I already have."
"S-shut up." Something lodged in his throat painfully as he glanced fleetingly at the girl child hanging from the bloodstained digits of the monster, her slick and long black hair falling over her eyes, her kimono torn and ripped to shreds. His claws dug into his palms, drawing more blood -- Gods, the blood was everywhere, everywhere, he couldn't… he couldn't smell anything but the scent of his own God damned blood --! "S-Shut up, I'll --" Swallow. "I'll kill you…"
"…Really?" Pointed claws flashed out of the darkness. "I would think that it is appearing to be the other way around, fool."
"Inuyasha!" A hand spread itself in front of his face and he was sprawled out on the ground once more, choking on sour-tasting mud, and the sound of air tunnels blurring rapidly in his ears, with the sound of laughter mixing in cheerfully.
"Miroku!"
"Aa, Inuyasha!" the monk yelled over the whirl of the kazzana, then, "MOVE!"
They both hit the ground, rosary beads covering their faces, as a whirl of yellow-covered wasps flew past where the hanyou's head had been only a moment before.
"W-why?" He choked out, gripping the edge of the Tetsuiaga with white knuckles as he pushed himself to his feet, gasping for air, Miroku's white face wavering between shock and rage beside him. "Why are you doing this, bastard?"
A single outtake of air. "I thought you knew." The monkey itself flashed in front of the hanyou, the grin from the human face dripping with amusement. "Didn't you? I thought you knew." The claws pulsed together in a clap, and the moon showed through the trees in a light caress along the tips of the robe of the fire rat, and the sight that awaited the half-demon known as Inuyasha would have torn many to pieces.
"…Buddha…"
It was a field of poppies, covered in the sea of moonlight, the forest floating on the edges as if it were afraid to venture further, and the cold breaths of wind that whispered laughter through the trees coveted a presence to him, and his knees shook, suddenly, uncontrollably. A boy in thick black robes (thatfacethatscent). In the field. In front of him, in front of all of them, the poppy seeds rushing from the sides of the long red flowers, the boy's face immersed in the poppies. He could smell the scent of blood, suddenly, overpowering, the scent of blood that wasn't his own, Gods, it wasn't his own, and the goosebumps that rose and fell across his arms.
The scent of blood, that, was twirled in the embraces of the scent of death.
"…Kohaku," Inuyasha heard Miroku whisper, his voice hoarse with dread.
"He was of no further use."
The wind blew fretfully, and it tore at Miroku's eyes, making them water, his arms too weak to lift to cover them. Wind. He looked up, feeling his stomach twist and fall, anger forgotten as Sango's face flashed in front of him, and then biting back a cry as it wisped away to form a different woman's face. One he loathed. Rage burst through his shock and he stumbled blindly toward the figure sitting on the edge of a white floating feather, her feet dangling daintily above his head. "YOU!"
She lifted the fan in her left hand, and sliced through the air with a dainty movement, which tore him back and threw him with a sickening thump to the trunk of a tree, vomit sticking at the back of his throat. Her free hand touched up gracefully to her hair as she stepped with a flourish on to the soft bed of poppies, drawing hairpins, which were flung carelessly into the material of his robes, pinning him to the trunk. "Me."
"BITCH," he heard Inuyasha scream. "WHAT DID YOU DO!?"
"I did not kill that child." Laughter.
Her voice. It was amused -- (damnherdamnher) -- but it sounded hard, as if she had to throw the words out of her mouth, as if they stuck to her tongue. She sounded almost… But he shook the thought away, pain draining his senses of reason, and dread pulsing through the parts of his body that he could feel as he heard the thunk of a skull against wood.
"I did not!" The amused tone had suddenly pitched into high anger… "--I did not!" She held her fan in a tight fist at her side, her teeth biting her lip, and without warning she flipped and delivered a high slap to the hanyou's face, wind blowing in all directions and lifting her hair in an arch. "You will not accuse me of such things! I had nothing to do with it!" She smiled, then, her kimono whipping about her legs in the clear wind. "It was not my teeth that ripped that sour flesh."
"Feh," Inuyasha whispered hoarsely, blood trickling down his eyelid. "You are an offspring of Naraku."
"The boy died of his own stupidity!" She took a step back, rage staining her cheeks red. "I would not dirty myself with his blood, fool --"
"Stupidity?" Miroku spat, as he pulled on the binds holding him to the tree. "The boy was nothing more than a doll -- nothing more than a toy to throw away after playing with it beyond use!"
"Well done, houshi!" She glanced at him, her eyes full and red and open with surprise, laughter staining her tone once more, and that infuriating smile tipping at the corner of her lips. "You have reminded me. You," she said to the figure behind the trunk. "You have done what you have been bidden." She flipped open the fan once more with a click, and sliced it down with a tight look at the sound of cracking wood, and ashes whisked themselves beyond his face into the night air. A puppet.
"The cub," she continued, sitting once more on the floating feather, "provoked Naraku." A think smile showed at the corner of her lips. "He spoke rashly to his highness. He did not know his place. So." She gestured to the corpse behind her, swinging her legs ever so softly. "Naraku taught him."
"Bullshit," Inuyasha snarled. "He didn't want to deal with the cub any more, so he killed him and didn't give a fuck."
She laughed, high-pitched and controlling. "Who would have thought a mere hanyou boy could be such a simple judge of character?" Her smile erased itself without a thought, and her claws gripped at the fan in her fingers, angrily. "I think I should kill you for that, boy."
"Why don't you, then, bitch?"
She was silent, quiet rage echoing in waves off her body.
"Keh." The white haired youth spit blood to the ground, a knowledgeable grin spreading across his face. "Naraku told you not to, didn't he?" Pained laughter erupted from his mouth. "Who thought that such a self-righteous bitch could be such a daddy's girl?"
(Girl.) Miroku's rage suddenly suspended into shaking anger, which pulsed just below his eyes. He stared at her, wind flowing through the red flowers at his feet, shrinking with a sickening realization that curved at the back of his mind. (Oh. Oh no --)
"W-where --" He stammered. "Where --"
"Your lover girl." Her tone was suddenly very quiet. He couldn't hear it very clearly amongst the whispering of the poppies. Her face was turned toward him, lips red and pursed, and she looked at him, fangs glistening with blood drawn from her lips, smile still present, yet never reaching her eyes. "The kitsune cub." She raised a soft hand worn with welts along the palm, her voice echoing in the dark night. "Kanna --" The quiet nothingness of a girl rose from out of the shadows of the trees, her white hair flowing in circles around her shoulders, and brought the shimmering mirror to his face, the surface gleaming in the light of the moon. Mist rose along the edges of the light, and he found himself staring down into it, mesmerized by horror. "Show them."
-- they were wrapped in a thin layer of blood along thick black blankets and there were gashes along their throats and cuts along their arms and chests their clothing torn and ripped and he could not breathe and there was a choked gasp of air and he wasn't sure whose it was --
"…What is…" He heard Inuyasha say as if from far away, rage sweeping the hanyou's tone with weariness and pain. "Where..."
"The poison." he heard her reply, that superior tone soaring above his head. "My feathers, boy-child."
His heart pounded fluidly, numbly. He felt her stare on his face and he looked up at her, too numb to feel much of anything, watching as she stared at his eyes, the vision of her face wavering in between hatred and laughter.
Perhaps she expected him to cry.
He never cried.