Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Series: Inuyasha
Genre: AU/Romance/Drama/Action/Adventure/Suspense
Rating: pg13
Chapter: 27
Primary Characters: Naraku/Sesshoumaru/Kagome
AN: This chapter plans to be most interesting, and as usual as it seems one full of revelations. I have taken about a 2 week writing break and now am back to see if I can write anything half way decent.
Shadows Against A Shoji Screen
Chapter 27
Pivotal Territory
The sky was white in those pre-dawn hours. Soft, silent and stealthy, like a cat in the night, its surface began to slowly tint blue as it sneaked its way along the horizon. The house and all that remained inside its fortified walls were gently prodded into a conscious state of being as the light permeated through the shoji screens It was a soft light, hazy and without weight. Like a weak tea, it slowly seeped through all barriers until nothing was left untouched, like the passage of time. It was a gentle color, full of warmth and coolness like the dread and fear of autumn. Joys of cooler weather ahead always blessed the thoughts of the country people, but with autumn came the tremble of winter. The tremor ran throughout the country, slowly at first, yet picking up momentum like a great tidal wave out at sea. It would wash all away.
It was not truly light which shone through the thin rice paper, but more the empty feeling of such—more the rumor, more the whisper, more the sentiment of the morning more than anything.
Only one day remained. One day until the start of the war, one day until the end of their chapter. It was the beginning and the end for all. It was the heron, waiting, tranquil, calm and silent in the waters; its presence not even detected amongst the reeds. But come tomorrow, the elegant creature would reach out into the water with a flash of lightening and fly away, a writhing body in its solid and powerful grip.
War was such a bird, carrying people off into the mists of uncertainty and death.
Sesshoumaru, somewhere in the course of the evening, had fallen asleep atop his desk, his head cradled in his arms with a look of discomfort. His eyes did not stir or even open when the beams of light shone dimly through the screen which led to his balcony. No, his thoughts were deep and dark—so much so that it seemed no light could penetrate. He held no light within him; he held no hope, only despair. He wore it like his clothes, he bathed in it like the water, and he fed upon it like rice.
In the early morning light it was apparent just how exhausted Sesshoumaru was indeed. It was apparent how tormented he was—caught between duty and loyalty and honor. Would he, like a prisoner, have his limbs tied to horses and each taken off in opposite directions? Would his body fall to the ground, by the time this experience had ended, no longer a body, just a whisper of what had just been there?
Although not looking ill or sickly, or even discolored—there was an aura, a sensation, a peculiar feeling. It swept over one and stayed by their side when one entered into his room. Once a person left the gold plated barrier that separated his world from the next, only then, at that instant, would this feeling dissipate. Even once one had fled from his room, the scent lingered on temporarily; the scent of fear.
Fear.
The servants had come and gone and it was nearly eleven o'clock, the rooster no longer howling incessantly at the moon like a perverse dog. Perhaps the rooster, like the animals of old, was longing for its year. It was longing for the year in which he could protect his people, in which the stars would align under his house…
But this year was the year of the tiger, after all. The tiger which hid in the bamboo, his teeth gleaming like stars, waiting to strike. Whether be it in life or love or war, the tiger was always unexpected, always stealthy, and always willing to risk its life. Yes, the year of the tiger was some how very fitting; very appropriate.
As whispers began to sing through the floorboards in the house, across the nightingale floors, through the shoji screens and out into the world, there seemed to be no relief from reality. All the servants were worried for their master. All were worried for his future, his outcome, his potential downfall—and his exhausted state of being did not bode well. Yes, there was a general fear of his defeat—for after all, never had there been a war such as this. Never had there been so much to risk, never had there been a person to win the war for, never had there been such a fear…
*
Kagome looked up from her ikebana and smiled warmly as Fujiko entered the room and placed down a tray filled with warm and comforting barley tea. Its scent, like the steam which rose from the handsome container, floated gently throughout the room enveloping ones senses and giving them, if however false, a feeling of utter contentment. Yes contentment was only an illusion, like a world within a painting—a place so difficult to find, a place so exhausting to discover. Yet, Kagome thought softy to herself, placing a green stalk into the arrangement, when she was in the arms of Sesshoumaru—there seemed to be no world, there seemed to be no laws; there was nothing. There was only contentment.
Fujiko did not leave, like the feeling of doubt, and sat down primly on the tatami mat, waiting patiently for Kagome to finish her task at hand. Fujiko's eyes were soft and gentle, like those of a deer, but today, more so than others, they flashed with an unrestrained emotion.
"It is no use," Kagome sighed to herself as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the other hand holding a long stemmed cornflower, "There is just no place for it."
Fujiko looked hesitantly up at the piece and exclaimed, "Kagome-sama, that is very beautiful."
Kagome reddened and held the compliment tenderly to her heart, like the golden necklace that now hung over it.
Her hands still held the cornflower, and extending her arm, she questioned, "Would you like it, Fujiko? I could put it in your hair." A simple ornament for a simple girl—yet highlighting the beauty in innocence, highlighting the wonder in those unclouded eyes.
Fujiko smiled softly and shook her head, "No, Lady Kagome, you should keep the flower. Its petals are the same color as your eyes."
Kagome looked down at the flower and touched its lacy petals delicately, "No, this flower is much finer than my gray eyes."
The two were silent for a moment, and outside there was a splash as a heron dipped its beak into the water of the pond like a gun shot and withdrew, a glimmering effervescent fish caught in its trap. How patient was the heron, standing still and awaiting the perfect moment to execute its attack. How beautiful it was, its body gleaming white in the morning sun, its great wings broad and expansive. How free was the heron amongst the cages of the world.
"Kagome-sama," Fujiko broached, leaning forward and pouring the lady a cup of the tea in a fine viridian glazed ceramic cup. The autumn ceramic wear was slowly being added to the dishes, so every now and then, one would catch a flash of red or gold or orange amongst the backdrop of summer. Taking the cup, the color of an old weeping willow in hand, Kagome looked up and saw the fear in Fujiko's eyes for the first time.
"There is something that I, and the rest of the servants wish to ask you. We hope it is not too great a burden."
"Burden?" Kagome laughed softly after sipping the tea tentatively. "My dear Fujiko, I am sure that whatever you request would be no burden at all." After all, there could be no burden greater than that which she carried previously. There could be no sentiment of greater torment to her soul—there was nothing that could over power such despair.
Fujiko shook her head, her cheeks rosy as blood rushed to them. Closing her eyes, as though to steady her voice, she questioned, "The staff is worried about Sesshoumaru-sama."
"Sesshoumaru?" Kagome questioned, passion flooding into her voice, even against her will. She placed down the ceramic cup down hurriedly and interrogated, "But what is the matter? Is he hurt or sick? Has he disappeared?" Panic was hinted in the depths of her questions, pure emotion unfiltered in their content rushed through her thin walls. She wondered if Fujiko suspected her feelings towards the youkai. She wondered if their love was like a moon behind a cloud; not readily visible, but known to exist.
"He is…," she paused, and licked her lips, "I believe that he might be feeling unwell. He has yet to awaken."
There was a long deep and silent pause. From outside there was the gentle chirp of sparrows, the steady hum of the cicadas, the distant whisper of the river running against the lush loveliness of the damp forest mosses.
"You mean he is still asleep? Now?" Kagome questioned, incredulous. It was practically unheard of for Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the Western Lands to sleep past seven in the morning. It was already eleven, soon to be twelve. Yes, there was no mistaking it—despite the naïve demeanor of the day; something deeper ran in its currents.
"Yes, Kagome-sama," Fujiko admitted softly, the first whisper of fear becoming apparent in her voice.
Lifting the ikebana arrangement, she smiled sympathetically down at Fujiko and comforted, "Yes, I understand your worry, Fujiko. Now, so close to the war, there is no time to have shadows of doubt lurking nearby." She could hardly contain her nerves; hardly contain the fear, the trepidation…"I will attend to Lord Sesshoumaru, Fujiko."
She left her there, sitting quietly on the fresh tatami mats, the pot of warm tea still steaming merrily, its scent running about the length of the small sunny room. Her steps echoed quietly against the silent nature of the house, and even she was mildly surprised when she found that her steps continued to quicken and quicken, like the beating of her heart against her breast.
The cornflower was still clutched in her hand.
*
They were a maze, the screens, a maze that separated her from the real world. When walking along the seemingly endless corridors, it was as though one was in a place that did not exist. Once you were beyond the bounds of those shoji screens, there seemed to be no world; only empty halls, passageways that led to nowhere. Within those shoji screens lay everything, a microcosm of all of ones wants and desires—beyond the shoji screens, beyond the memories of what indeed lay ahead, there was just a cold emptiness.
A vortex in time and space.
Walking along the dark halls, Kagome felt her heart quell within her breast. Was there ever a peace in which she could take refuge? Why must it have been that her life and Sesshoumaru's were not aligned in the stars? Whose twisted joke had they been subject to?
Why did she want to live only for the hope of tomorrow? Why did she want to live if destiny lay before her, a predicable road, encompassed with cliffs on either side?
It was as though they were connected by the red strings of fate—and more so. Yes, she could feel the same pain that he felt, she knew when he was angry, or sad, or bitter, or remorseful—even with his expressionless mask. Yes, she saw beyond the mask of Sesshoumaru. Kagome saw what lay beyond, and she cried at its sheer beauty and potential.
The screen door slid hurriedly open; a sharp intake of breath, and then a slow and steady sigh. Outside the wind bell tinkled in a light breeze blown in from the sea, and all was at peace once again.
Looking up at her, Sesshoumaru smirked softly and whispered, "No, there is nothing the matter, Kagome."
He sat there, behind his desk, as was described. Sesshoumaru looked perfectly calm and awake as though, as though he had been expected to hear her footsteps padding along the hall. Yes, Sesshoumaru was prepared when he saw her—prepared to understand and accept the world for another day. The last day…
Kagome's face contorted for a moment into anger and annoyance, and nearly slamming down the ikebana onto his desk, she ranted angrily, "What do you mean, there is nothing wrong? One of the servants was practically in tears!"
I was practically in tears…
"You mean I am not allowed occasional extravagance when it comes to the amount of sleep that I allow myself?"
He was mocking her now, his eyes dancing in the morning light. But she knew he could see her pain, she knew by that dark look in his eyes that he meant her no harm. She knew…
Kagome, looking fearfully up at the youkai, licked her lips and whispered softly, bowing her head, "I was worried about you…I know that now is the most taxing time of the whole endeavor, and I do not wish…" She could never convey what she wished to say to him. Had she been a typical girl, she would have confessed her love right then and there. But what was the point of confessing such a love? Where would love take her, even if it was returned? Yet, she still wished to describe in words, yet not invented, how deep her love for him ran. It was like an underground current of gold, a sea beneath the surface—never detected by the world, yet a secret only to the two of them. Only they could see into the black abyss.
She paused, and studied the grain in the tatami. Kagome could feel his eyes against her; she could feel his stare against her skin. Sinking down to the ground, seated not a foot away, she whispered, "I was worried. I do not wish for you to—I want you to be careful. Don't you understand?"
She was looking at him again and was mildly surprised to see that Sesshoumaru was staring at her in amazement, his lips slightly parted. What had happened to her this morning? Why was it that she wished to expose her heart? Why was it that she wished to be unprotected? Why was his stare more damaging than ever? Why did his eyes have to convey all the passion he wished to hide?
"If you, if you—," she could hardly form the words, her throat was so full of meaning, so full of fear and sorrow and regret, "If you are not careful, you will die, do you realize this Sesshoumaru?"
He scoffed in indignation, "You insult me." Yet it was not an angry or even bitter repartee, it was something without substance like the steam from warm tea, the reflection of the heron against the watery surface.
"I know you are powerful and skilled and have outlasted more than your share of battles. I know you are strong, but if I were to lose you, even though we may never be together, then my life would be worthless, more so than it is now." Yes, there was her declaration. She had whispered it to the world, and only he had heard amongst the light and shadows of the shoji screen, against the reflection of the water, beyond the blue sky…
She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, she could feel the flush against her breast, her cheeks; she could feel her rapid breathing and the beat of her heart. Yet it mattered not. What she had said was her hearts deepest fear, a dark depthless pool. In that moment she had admitted to love, something that was denied to one such as her…
Sesshoumaru looked at her, staring, in actuality. He heard every word she said, yet nothing at all. Yes, she had confessed to that same sentiment which had been haunting him for the past weeks. That same hope that was never openly expressed, yet implied…
Kagome had never looked more beautiful than she did now; in this morning light, her cheeks pink with emotions, her eyes sparkling with her tears which were threatening to overflow. Yes, never had she seemed more alive than she did now—never had she displayed such character. It was said one should live each day as it was your last—and for today, it was so…
How much he wished to reach out for her right now, to envelop her in his arms, to taste those tempting lips against his own, to feel her bare body—but, like this war, like his life, like love, it was all in vain. Where would hope take them to? Was there a paradise in which they could be together? No, hardly...death was the only option, and both held too much pride than to abandon their worldly ties.
No, they could only enjoy their love for this moment, for tomorrow there was a destiny that neither could turn back against.
Yet, once again, he desired her above all else. He desired her above his happiness, his hope, his future…
Without her, his life was but a meaningless game, for all were losers in the end. Without her there was nothing.
There was nothing.
She faced him now, her face red, her chest heaving, her lips trembling out of worry, out of fear, out of sorrow. Yes, she cried for him—she was perhaps the first and last to do so, he thought to himself as he felt the desire wash over him. He could not restrain its force, it consumed him, it would eat him alive if need be—and once he had tasted her, once she was his, if only once—than he would die happy knowing that at least on one occasion they were not denied what they wished.
"…then my life would be worthless, more so than it is now."
What a stupid, foolish and utterly perfect girl.
Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently and caught the tears that fell like the plum rains of spring. Yes, they were too late for the festival, but they could still see the fireworks.
Sesshoumaru leaned forward, titling his head and softly, slowly he kissed her smooth and fresh neck. It was just as he had imagined it would be; tender and soft, yet so full of life and trembling beneath his touch. She was just as afraid as he; afraid that all this would shatter to the floor. Hope was already gone, but its echo remained.
Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru drowned in her scent, drowned in her and let the fire consume his soul; his movements, and soon he himself would not be able to contain his actions. Her breath and slight moans only encouraged him, and entangling his arms about her waist, he looked down at her, his eyes gleaming, awaiting the prize—her lips which he had yet to taste. Yes he was consumed by the fire that Naraku had predicted, he was consumed to death with this creature—and although regret and remorse still loomed heavily on the horizon, the sun only shone for them now.
Yes, there was only now.
He kneeled closer, their breath mingling as one. What a mutual relationship it was between the two, they fed off one another and prospered…
She called out his name, softly, and in a hushed voice. Her fingers gently brushed against his cheek-bones causing a sensation to flow down his spine.
Her skin, from beneath the many folds in her kimono, called out to him. Kagome was willing to be called his as he felt her hands trace along his back. His sharp claws gently stroked their way down her neck, to her collarbone, and down…and down…and down…and he nearly went insane with hunger…
"Oh my. I dare say, am I interrupting something?" A voice behind them questioned, the manner of false surprise yet deep knowledge lurking in its masculine tones. The voice was deep and liquidly, thick and full of merit and wit and substance.
The screen door had slid open, and even Sesshoumaru's ears had been distracted at the task at hand that now lay in his arms. He would have wished it no other way, for indeed, Kagome required and demanded his full attention.
But now…now, it was ruined. Their breathing slowed, and the two recovered. Kagome adjusted her silks, and bent her head down and avoided the eye contact of the man who now entered so casually into the room, beaming and smirking in a knowing fashion. He settled himself down near Kagome, a bit too close for comfort, thought Sesshoumaru decidedly.
Gazing across his low-lying table, Sesshoumaru studied Naraku in an icy reserve as he adjusted his garments. He had recovered quickly enough, or as was quickly as could be expected. His heart still raced, but his eyes no longer held the expression that would give all away. There was no trace of love, no trace of scorn, no trace or desire or passion, no trace of anger; they were unaffected and blank, like the white of a snowy scene.
"And what, Naraku, do I owe to the pleasure of your unexpected visit?" He questioned coolly, his eyes glancing to Kagome who sat quietly, if composed, some three feet away on the opposite side of his desk. Her hair was not undone, but arranged neatly atop her head only a few strands escaping. The color was beginning to sink away from her cheeks. Yes, Kagome was smart, she realized who this man was, she realized his power, and she realized her role.
"Why, my dear Sesshoumaru, I come to wish you good luck. For, after all, tomorrow begins the day of days, does it not?" Naraku's voice was false in its hope, false in its wishes, false in everything. His façade held no merit in Sesshoumaru's eyes.
"There is no such thing as good luck, or good fortune. All is a matter of fate and destiny—and there is no changing that. Neither you nor I can tamper with our fate." Sesshoumaru replied coolly, withdrawing a piece of rice paper from a folder and beginning to grind the ink.
"Ah, well, there, my dear friend we differ in our opinions, do we not?"
Sesshoumaru did not say anything, but applied his concentration to adding a bit of water to the ground ink. Sesshoumaru did not see the look that Naraku made, he did not see the anger that was hinted in his eyes, he did not see the lust nearly boiling over, he did not see it at all…
Naraku's smile was as false as a transformation of a tanuki. But, nevertheless, he turned that false smile unto Kagome and waited patiently.
"So, Kagome, what news have you heard of your husband, Lord Inuyasha?"
Sesshoumaru nearly lost his grip on the ink well, but he recovered silently. Yet even Kagome was aware of the tension that filled the room, she was aware of the importance of her answer.
"I have heard no news, Lord Naraku," she replied demurely, yet she had enough strength to look up into his dark eyes. What she saw in his face was the deepest scorn, the deepest travesty, the deepest current of pride. He knew, he knew the power he held over her future.
"Oh?" He questioned sweetly. His thick sculpted eyebrows rose in amusement and disdain, and fear consumed Kagome's heart, only to be replaced by anger and hatred.
"If you will excuse me, Lord Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered, bowing deeply towards the youkai, and then, silently she stood and exited the room. Sesshoumaru would not be angry with her quick, if not rude departure, she told herself. Sesshoumaru was just as aware as she was that if she stayed all would become loose and frayed and undone. She had no choice but to leave and to seek safety as far away as possible.
Her role at this moment was to seek solitude, in a place where only he would find her in the end. A place out of harm's way.
Sesshoumaru was the heron in the pond, patient and powerful. He was deadly.
*
Naraku's eyes immediately fell to Sesshoumaru and a grin began to form, slowly, deviously. Yes, there was dark knowledge as evident as tadpoles in a forest pond. They swam and lurked and darted and glowed…and their unborn croaks and chirps swarmed the water with meaning.
"That is the way things are then, hm, Sesshoumaru?"
Sesshoumaru said nothing, but he did not look away. He was not afraid to face the truth. He was not afraid to face what he believed in. Like the morning sun at dawn—bright and brilliant, it was also dangerous and tempting to look into its depths. It was too easy to allowed oneself to get sucked in by its rays. Yet Sesshoumaru knew restraint, he knew restraint as he knew his life. His life was restraint.
How easily he could kill Naraku at this moment, yet restraint, always the constant annoying restraint.
"Well, I must say," Naraku continued, moving more towards the desk, and draping one arm over its surface, "This comes as no surprise. She is a beautiful woman, and my, my, one of the most beautiful bodies I have ever seen. I know few that could rival her."
Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed, and dipping the bamboo brush into the pool of black ink, he coughed discretely, signaling a change of topic. He would speak no more to Naraku; he would avoid the subject—for since when had Naraku become his keeper? Since when did he have to justify his actions towards his ally? No, that time was never and would remain as such.
"You realize, Naraku that you have left me no plans on your initial attack come tomorrow. All my tactics purely derive from my own interests, and this has been selfish of me. We are partners, and as such, I have treated you unfairly. I presume the reason in your unexpected visit was to inform me of your plans so that mine may be accommodated to yours." His brush hung over the paper, awaiting Naraku's words, awaiting the attack. None came, only a gentle yet strangely harsh laugh.
"My dear Sesshoumaru, in all honesty, I only came here today to wish you luck. I have no military plans, for my soldiers rely only on the fate of your battle. If you do terribly, we shall be there, if you do extraordinary, we shall be absent."
Sesshoumaru placed his brush against the rest, and said nothing, but instead rested his chin against his hands and whispered, "And this was your only purpose in visiting unannounced?"
Naraku smirked, and whispered, "Well, when it comes to you, Sesshoumaru-sama, there are many other purposes lurking in other parts of my body."
Sesshoumaru grimaced and said plainly, "I am sorry I cannot indulge you in your sexual fantasies. As it is, I have much work to do—,"
"—Oh, I'm sure. Yet, distractions run rampant like weeds, do they not?" Naraku's eyes glinted in the midday sun, and despite the brightness the room suddenly seemed very dark. Yes, Naraku would bring this subject into the sun, would bring it out into the light, even if it brought Sesshoumaru to the edge, to the point beyond no return.
Sesshoumaru ignored the comment and continued, "As such, it would be most convenient for me if you could leave me in peace then, and tomorrow, once it has begun, I am sure we will remain in contact. That reminds me, have you prepared your carrier birds?"
Yes, let the innocent birds die for us amongst the wreckage of the battle field. Let Mother Nature suffer our losses; let her wounds heal as ours have not.
Naraku nodded, and studied his finger tips, "Yes, I have at least twenty that are ready. And what is your number, may I ask?"
"I have thirty that are prepared and able." Sesshoumaru conceded, not begrudgingly, but anxious that Naraku take his leave. He wished Naraku to disperse just as he wished the heat of summer to flee come the moment of battle. Yet, the cool winds of autumn would hardly arrive tomorrow…
Naraku stood up, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders, and grinning he leaned over the desk, prepared to repeat the action of the last visit. Prepared to taste the sweetness of Sesshoumaru's lips; the treasure that they held, their enjoyment and their pleasure. Yes, Naraku knew that soon he would have to wait no longer for Sesshoumaru's body, but it was so enjoyable playing this game of cat and mouse!
He wasted no time in leaning down, willing to steal the man's honor at a moments notice, willing to risk it all. Yes, Naraku was a risk taker when it came to attraction.
This time, however, Sesshoumaru was ready.
Metal glinted in the light, and Naraku felt a soft, if acute, pressure against his neck. A long thin blade sparkled and shone, the double edged sword that Sesshoumaru was.
"I would not do so if I were you," Sesshoumaru hissed, "Go seek your sexual pleasure in other places."
Naraku stood up, and bowed deeply, the act strangely dishonorable, "As you wish, Sesshoumaru-sama. Until tomorrow then."
He cast the youkai lord one more approving grin before he walked calmly out of the room and into the hallways lined with decorative shoji screens. The gold leaf glinted as did his eyes. Yes, if he would not be allowed to taste Sesshoumaru this morning, then he would settle for his wench; the kind and sweet girl Kagome, who, come tomorrow, would be dead, drowned in a battle field of blood.
Yes, the girl was ripe with her lust towards Sesshoumaru—surely he would not sneak a nibble before the girl died. Yes, Kagome was ready to be tasted, and he imagined her sweet juices and they brought a tingle to his spine.
*
He found her some five minutes later walking down the outside pavilion in a most auspicious place indeed. This side of the property was perhaps the most dangerous as well as the most cunning. Yes, this particular spot truly demonstrated the military ingenuity that Sesshoumaru possessed. He had not designed his fortress in vain. The property itself was located on the side of a cliff; all sides except one were in relative safety. The northern expanse faced the mountain range as did the east. The western expanse was some twenty meters away from a steep decline that lead into a deep forest that was divided in two by a gurgling brook that, come winter, swelled with the full intensity of a the God's wrath. It was truly the southern side which remained the most dangerous, at least, for any one stupid enough to be caught there. And Kagome was about to be trapped.
Yes, it was odd enough that the south, facing his lands, should bring so much treachery. No, Sesshoumaru did not even know of the power he, Naraku, had. The power he held, the power he wished for. Sesshoumaru, as well as his wench Kagome, were both but fools caught up in the heat of war.
In all areas of the house there was a surrounding pavilion on the one story level. Random strips of the pavilion were covered in the traditional nightingale floor. On the southern face of the property was a basement had been formed to keep surplus crops from being spoiled by rain, or as storage to hold spare artillery. This route also happened to be the quickest to the lake located in the back of the property. The upper deck allowed for two flights of stairs to be made for the stretch of about two hundred yards. There were only two ways in and out of the area, which was clever indeed. For example, if a group of thieves had been cornered on either side, there were only two possible ways for their escape. The first of which was suicide, or the second of which was torture, as they were killed by their captors.
If there had been only one set of stairs, this would have been a burden to those defending the property. If there had only been one flight of stairs, the men would have been outnumbered as well as outmaneuvered. If preformed correctly, this strategic location could kill a group of one hundred men with only ten to perform the action
Ah, and how beautiful that Kagome should find herself here, in this most exclusive part of the house. How beautiful it would be when he raped her amongst the sacks of rice, and no one, not even Sesshoumaru, would be able to hear her screams. The basement, after all, had been created with several layers of rock. Yes, he would enjoy making love to the virgin, enjoy her sobs and eventual moans—he would enjoy it all, and promise her, after the act was done, that he would return to her in the night to take another serving. Her rapid breath amongst the bounty brought him infinite amounts of pleasure.
"Ah, Kagome-sama, just the person I was looking for…" Naraku greeted suavely, running his hands automatically through his long dark trusses of hair. The light green of his attire, mixed with the white and gentle cream, gave him an almost kind-hearted look. He had particularly chosen this apparel for this journey—for perhaps the light colors off set the dark and devious, and oh, the cunning quality of the visit itself. Yes, light colors suited him nicely.
Kagome, glancing up from her position by the railing (it seemed as though she had been admiring the view) paled and whispered, "And why is that, Lord Naraku?"
Naraku smirked and moved closer. He could feel the fear radiating off her, as did the blush on her cheeks. Her submissive nature towards him seemed to turn him on in some way, she was the complete opposite of Sesshoumaru's dominating and controlling nature, and in addition inside he knew there lay a passion as deep as his. And more so, he would be the first to taste that fervor. Yes, he would over take Sesshoumaru's property and taste her sweet nectar…
"Why, I wished to discuss with you a very important matter." He stepped closer. Their eyes met, and she looked away. Ah, how coy indeed. How faithful she was to her lover and not her husband, how faithful indeed.
"Oh?" She took a step back and fingered her lush kimono nervously. Little did she know that the kimonos she dressed in every day were that of Naraku's—little did she know that she wore his property, all kimonos were Naraku's; except one, that was.
"Yes, that is correct." He moved forward another step.
"Does Sesshoumaru-sama know where you are?" Her voice was beginning to give all away. She was beginning to realize his intentions. He liked his women cunning, just as he liked his men.
"Why would that matter? He is not my ruler…," He smirked and allowed his eyes to travel first to her lips, her neck, to her breasts and then down and down and down, perpetually down.
A bee droned lazily as it pollinated a cliff dwelling flower, holding on to the edge.
"You are in his house, his domain," she pointed out apprehensively. She was but two meters away from the stairs, but two meters away from her potential safety. Had she not realized it yet? There was no safety when it came to Naraku. Nothing was sacred, not even the miko. Not even the gods.
"Well, he is free to act the way I do, if he should ever visit again," Naraku brushed aside, making sure to keep his gaze pinpointed on her pretty eyes. "You know my dear; it is amazing how similar you and Sesshoumaru are—both unaware of what lies before you. You refuse to see what is really there, you refuse to go against your word, even if it will torture your life, even….," he paused, "If your husband has taken a lover as I speak…even if they are intimate, you look away and are noble. I admire this in a woman, however idiotic it may be."
Kagome did not flinch, did not move, did not blink, and did not breathe. Only her lips moved, as though she was an impassive marionette.
"Well, if you shall excuse me," Oh, her eyes had turned glossy with tears. How touching. How touching indeed. But something else lay in those depths, it made him uneasy. It was as though she had realized something, as though he, in his lust, had given away a secret, had given away something of great importance.
But no. That could not be. He was creating unnecessary problems.
She started for the steps.
No. Not so easily, my dear Kagome. There is no escape from me now. Ah, look you are fleeing up the stairs, but what is this? How easily I have caught your hand, how easily I have pulled you too my side. How easy it shall be to take your virginity.
He laughed.
"Naraku, let me go," she begged, holding onto the banister for support. It felt week and unstable to the touch, despite its sturdy foundations. Yet it was no use, his grip was so powerful that it overcame her, and suddenly, she found his hand over her mouth, and the other holding her wrists. Kagome was now his prisoner, she was now at his mercy, now at the wrath of his desires, his body, and his ambitions.
She could say nothing, she could not scream. She watched as the storage door was closed and as the darkness surrounded her. She felt the hand from her mouth being released only to be replaced by Naraku's lips and his searching, insatiable appetite. Her hands were now over her head, being held firmly in place with his grip. The remaining fingers were now undoing the folds in her kimono, and tears began to fall without mercy when she felt his hand against her breast.
No. No. No. No. It could not be like this! His lips were still pressed against her own, and biting down hard she drew blood. It was salty in her mouth, a flavor she had never tasted. It startled him, but to her disgust, he seemed to be used to it. His eyes took on a new glint in the din of the chamber, and he only deepened the kiss, forcing his will against hers. For a moment he withdrew and tilted her head towards his so that she would be forced to look into his face, into his eyes, into his desire that looked at her without blinking.
"Oh? So you like it that way, do you then?"
For a split second, he brought his hand to his lips and wiped away the blood. His lips gleamed red like the juice from a pomegranate, stained and punctured and glowing like rubies. If there was an opportunity, it was at this second, at this moment in time only. There was no time for regrets, especially in her youth. Yelling at the top of her lungs while firmly kicking him in the thigh, she watched as he bent over in pain, like the chronic illness of an old man, with a vocabulary just as broad. Collapsing against the bags of rice he laid there for a split second, a fraction of time in which escape was probable—even possible, so, scrambling to her feet, Kagome dashed towards the closed exit. There was no time to think, there was no time to question—no time to debate, no time to ponder or wonder or even surmise. Her hands had just felt the cool metal of the handle, to her, a savior, but she was yanked back again in pain as Naraku pulled her hair with the force of hatred itself.
"Nice try."
She continued to scream and kick, and dimly, she thought she heard footsteps—or perhaps it was the beating of her heart, rapid, and out of breath. She was the deer in the hunt, impaled by an arrow—there was no escape, only death, only him, only Naraku and the darkness of the room. Kagome nearly gagged when she felt something hard between her legs, she felt his ravenous hands begin to untie her obi and it fell away like regrets. She was now bare in the darkness of the cellar, Naraku pressed against her hope, and suffocating all fear, all hope, and all sentiment.
But no footsteps could be heard, no distant voices like the boom of thunder, no noise—there was nothing, just the blue in her heart.
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AN: *cackles madly* bwah ha ha ha ha.
Originally, this was going to be a much longer chapter, but it has been a while since I did one of my signature "suspense" chapters. A miko doesn't need to be a virgin, ne? Isn't that only for Fushigi Yugi? Anyways, yes, this chapter was interesting. Lots of action, and rather cut short in my opinion.
In any case, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and part III ('the war') so far. Wow, the war is but one day away! Naraku needs to learn some control! But is it just me, or is he some how appealing in all his bad-ass sexiness? Whoops, getting too involved with the characters here.
Want to know what a cornflower looks like. This link should help.
Read, Review, say…Abu! (you know, Aladdin's little monkey side kick?? He he he. That is how you spell it, ne?? O_O)
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