I've had these random conversations drifting through my mind for a while now, and rather than just toss them out as drabbles, I got the bright idea of trying to sew them together into a slightly more coherent form. Only time will tell if I'm successful. :)It is a work-in-progress, but I'll do my best not to drag it on forever as I have certain lengthy experiments in ::cough:: other fandoms.
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Nibankari (Aftermath)
by Lynn Gregg
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I. Prologue (Departure)
Naraku was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. How he got that way is immaterial; suffice to say it involved betrayal on the part of his remaining detachments, a post-midnight reconnaissance beyond his weakened barrier for the weary and wary Inu-tachi, and, ultimately, a vile sticky mass of splattered youkai remains left courtesy of the combined efforts of a team that had at last come to realise not only their individual gifts but their strength in concert as well. All those things are important, but what matters the most is this: Naraku was well and truly dead. Deceased. Taking a richly deserved dirt nap. Naraku was no more.
Which should not be taken to indicate that said Inu-tachi were relieved of all their concerns simply because the chief one amongst them had ceased to be. Naraku's demise had merely freed their minds to focus upon other things which, while lacking imminent mortal threat, still had the power to perturb:
Kagome's school marks, for instance, which were at an all-time low.
The remainder of the Shikon no kakera, including but not limited to the ones still in Kouga's keeping.
What to make of Kagura, now a free agent and, apparently, an ally, since she it was who sought them out to tip them to Naraku's regenerative cycle--the key, ultimately, to his destruction.
What to do with Kohaku, now Shikon-free and back among the living, thanks to a seemingly random swipe of Sesshomaru-sama's despised Tenseiga.
And then there was the little issue of a promise made between comrades, dating back to a time when neither could be certain of its fulfillment ever coming due.
Such were the thoughts that plagued the travelers as they made their slow and silent progress back to the village in the soft grey light of the morning after. Later--after sleep and food and a good scrubbing--later, there would be time for celebration, but for now there was only shock, and rushing thoughts, and the one overmastering question that hung over every head like the dark clouds Miroku so frequently spotted hanging over likely-looking inns:
What the Hell are we gonna do now?