Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Series: Inuyasha
Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama
Chapters primary characters: Naraku, Kikyou, Inuyasha, Kagome-tachi (Miroku, Kouga + etc, Sango)
Rating: pg13
Spoilers: n/a
Chapter: 30: Rain and Blood
An: It took me a long time to get this chapter out, basically because of the fact that I have to write war scenes. Also, probably, from this point in the story, I am back to switching view points. What I mean is, incase you haven't noticed, the past few chapters have usually been one thing or the other. It was either Inuyasha-tachi or Sesshoumaru-tachi, it did not switch from Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru, Kagome, and back to Inuyasha—but since the advent of chapter 29 and we are back on the same old schedule. Scene changes can be recognized by '***'. Also, as usual, a big shout out to taskinLUDE who always takes the time with me, for reasons I have not come to comprehend myself.
Shinigami: I have been thinking about Gundam Wing a lot lately (God! I love that anime! It's all just so wonderful! Slash, politics, hot guys, and nice music, as well as good animation. And, oh, did I mention hot guys? Oi…am I the only one who would think Wufei and Relena would make a good couple? Like, think about it…you have Heero x Duo, Quatra x Trowa, Zechs x Trieze…and so, what about poor Wufei? And Relena…isn't…so…bad….(*gags*) ANYWAYS, sorry bout that rant. I have been thinking about Gundam Wing, and, as you know, Duo is the pilot of Shinigami…and Shinigami is the god of death, and so, I just thought I would reference to him a bit.
Rain/water/grey: Yep, this chapter has a LOT of it, as will most of the others. Sorry if you get tired of it, I am trying to set a "mood". Just DEAL.
****
Ariel: You asked if Sesshoumaru and Kagome are going to be together? Well, I can neither confirm nor deny that fact. All of you who keep asking my questions, you will just have to wait and see. I won't say yes, but I won't say no either. ^_~ don't ya just love me?
Devil-incarnate: Happy or sad ending? Both! ^_^ I mean, after reading this story so far, you know that it is very different from my past works, so you can't expect the same ending, however nice that would be!
Peenya Kowlada: Kagome seemed more rebellious in the past chapter—especially with Sesshoumaru. Yes, to reply to that comment, I was sort of unsure how to make that. But, I decided that Kagome has a naturally rebellious personality, and I think she can be a lot gentler when in private, but in public she wants to make sure she does not get walked all over. Also, I think that I hadn't shown her rebellious nature for quite a long time and it was overdue.
taskinLUDE: Uhm, no, not Mulan related, but still, a great story anyways! Inamoto..Juunichi? Who? *doesn't know anything about soccer/football* Is he cute? *smirk*
****
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Chapter 30
Blood and Rain
Zaa Zaa Zaa went the rain upon the roof of the castle. It fell down in great sheets, one after another, each drop following its brother to the earth below, to its grave. The rivers swelled, the trees swung in the great winds, the reeds and thrushes flailed innocently among the endless sea of green; the endless sea of rice.
From his position upon a grey speckled mare, Inuyasha looked down into the valley, onto the thick shiny form of bodies beneath his feet. They pulsated like the war cry of a great Taiko drum. They were waiting for his answer to battle.
The sky was the color of the first light of dawn; bluish in all its glory, only magnified by the low lying cloud cover. The water-colored depths of these forms swept and crashed through the surrounding mountains, inhaling the inky pine trees and any decipherable form. There was only the wind and the rain.
Inuyasha's figure, although dressed for battle in shades of crimson, was drenched this continual waterfall. His silver locks were plastered to his tan skin, and they seemed so rooted there as to never to escape. The water held tight against him in such a fury, as did his fate.
His grip on the leather reigns tightened. He must not delay it any longer. His future, his country's future, all rested on the following days. There was no time to get cold feet, no time to let the fear grip at his heart. He would override such an emotion—even if it destroyed him.
But he paused…and looked down at the ground, searching for a sign, only to be presented with a warm shade of pumpkin orange from an opened parasol. Beneath its glowing cover, an elegant face peered out. Two black eyes, fair skin, and a wave of hair; it was Kikyou, come to wish him off.
"You should not be here," he began, looking down at her, examining every detail subconsciously. Should he never return, he wanted to remember her form to the grave. He wanted her body to wrap around him in the fading twilight…
Her eyes were dark and serious, and she spoke in a particularly deep voice, laced slightly with the sound of fear, "I had to see you, I had to tell you something before you left."
Inuyasha did not speak, but watched as her delicate hand reached out from under the protection of the parasol to hold his own clawed fingers. Kikyou squeezed them gently, her eyes focused on the small, but intimate embrace. As she did so, however, her lips moved, and Inuyasha heard her say in a hushed whisper, "I have something important that you must know, that you must know before you meet your brother in battle."
Interest was kindled in his eyes. So, once again, he had been left in the dark as far as something was concerned. But, he thought reasonably, he could not blame Kikyou for this. The youkai was sure that Kikyou had her reasons to withhold such information—most likely, thought Inuyasha; it was the veiled threat of Naraku in this damnable house amongst the cottonwood trees.
"What is it? You must tell me now before—,"
There were hurried footsteps, even through the percussion of rain, he could hear them, trampling along the wooden veranda, the one Kikyou must have traveled upon. The lord's eye swiveled slightly and he saw a dark haired figure approaching them rapidly. The steps were smooth and almost feminine in their sound—it could be the stride of no other. No other could sound so delicate; no one could create such a false sense of security, especially in a hakama…
The form bent to reach for an umbrella planted firmly in a bamboo stand, and in an elegant movement, opened it, revealing a startlingly bright color on its edges; that of blood, deep fresh blood.
"Lord Inuyasha!" an unusually playful voice called.
The two amongst the plummeting rain were now looking at the approaching figure, dressed in deep plums and blacks. Their hands, once held together so intimately, had fallen to their sides, cool and impartial. They were now but strangers; strangers amongst the rain…but the fog that poured over the hills held a secret, a secret of the unspoken, a secret only the eyes could uncover…
The umbrella lifted, and the face of Naraku greeted the two: murky eyes, smirking lips, and a waterfall of luxurious shining hair, with almost the same quality of the men below in the valley. His hair glinted and shone, both alive and dead at the same time.
The silver-haired youkai and his miko companion were surprised, but not truly so; each knew Naraku was swift and cunning—no doubt he had come to intercept Kikyou's oh-so-important information. Naraku was a rapid current, swallowing anything that came in his way—he would destroy the trees, the boats, the villages, and the rice fields—even people. Nothing could be left untouched in such a storm.
"Why do you hesitate, hm?" Naraku questioned sternly, withdrawing a cypress pipe from the inner recesses of his happi coat. He chewed on its worn wooden edges, although not attempting to light it. It was, after all, not suitable weather for smoking. "Your men wait for war, even in this damnable weather!
The dark lord's eyes were alit, and brave, and hungry—Naraku had waited for this day long enough. The dark haired lord had planned and yearned and plotted for this day—and finally, after months—no, years of waiting, it had arrived. So slowly had it been encroaching that it hardly seemed plausible to Naraku and he could hardly control his elation. He wanted to watch the blood flow, down from the mountains, and into the rice fields, fertilizing what would soon be his. Naraku wanted to wrap Kikyou in his arms, he wanted to tell her that this had all been for her—he wanted her to understand more than ever, and the only way the girl would ever understand was after the two brothers, those two thorns in his sides, were successfully disposed of.
And then there was the matter of Kagome, but that was to be savored for later.
Inuyasha could not think of an answer to this reply, but did not withdraw his pensive gaze from the dark lord, now giving him and Kikyou amused glances through the raindrops. He could not help but notice how the droplets became caught in Naraku's eyelashes, as though they were spider webs sparking with the morning dew.
"I believe," Kikyou whispered, bowing her head with the grace of an imperial swan, "I will return to the fortress. I have just come to wish Inuyasha-sama the best of luck in this campaign."
Naraku watched her go, her small careful steps echoing in his heart, as she made her way, once again, back to the safety of his domain. He grinned lustily. What a pity it was that he could not taste her juices tonight—no, he would have to be satisfied with a young solider from the battlefield.
Turning once more to face his ally, Naraku quipped, "I will get my horse, and then shall we be off? The men grow restless for the word—the war has not even started, and already they undermine your strength!"
The Lord Naraku ambled away across the gravel expanse, chuckling to himself, in search of a servant who would bring him Hayakaze, his most treasured and beloved horse. As he made his procession to the main house, he looked over his shoulder once to find that Inuyasha was watching him with a serious glint in his eyes. Oh, it was such a pity; he thought regretfully, that he would never be able to hold that pearl that he had so dreamed about for many, many moons.
Yes, all through those nights he had heard Inuyasha and Kikyou through the thin walls, he found himself aroused—the thought of Kikyou, let alone Inuyasha…ah, such sweet torture…
At night the late-flowering zinnias were blooming, and between her thighs, would a narcissus grow?
Such a pity…he sighed distressfully, his eyes glazing over as they traveled up the expanse of Inuyasha's abdomen, Oh, indeed such a pity…
Inuyasha watched his ally go, anger falling in his golden eyes, sparking the ground, like the rain that plunged before him; the rain that threatened to wash everything away.
Do not think I cannot see what lingers in your eyes, Naraku, Inuyasha sighed, burying his head in his hands, almost in a defeated pose. Yet, the war had not even started. I see what you think I cannot—I know what lurks in your heart, and if I do not, I will soon find out…
Nudging his horse Umeboshi forward, he headed down the slippery mount, gleaming and bright in this mild light of dawn. Perhaps the horse, for whatever reason, could sense his fear.
It was a long journey down that hill…
****
One after another, one after another, one after another. One step. One more step. One more step…just one more, and you will fly down the hill, you will fly down into the valleys, fly into the grasslands, the marshes, the keeps—you will be there, amongst the world, amid the beauty.
Will you see it, a flash of red, among the tortured screams? Will you hear the gentle pattern of the rain? Will you close your eyes and marvel at the world?
Not now. Not now, for you are a warrior—only in peace is the world beautiful. In times of war, there is only the blood, the rain, the sweat, the tears, the grief, the joy, the sorrow. There is no peace in war.
Inuyasha rode on through the fog, covering him like a blanket, as though he was the gentle hill that surrounded him on either side through this path. The narrow mountain passes seemed treacherous, but Inuyasha did not notice. He noticed nothing, his golden eyes only focused terrain straight ahead.
Subconsciously, he wished for his brother to appear, to face his twin, his opposite, his rival and friend—he wanted to slash him in two, he wanted to make him suffer…then this war would be over.
Wouldn't it?
Snorting, Inuyasha shook his head at his own foolishness. He really was young and inexperienced. He was afraid, wasn't he? Yes, he supposed he was. Not matter how many battles he partook in, no matter how many things he killed—whether it was animals, youkai, hanyou or men…he still regretted seeing that flash of red against his sword.
His grip about the neck of the horse tightened, and he felt the steps from the creature begin to quicken. The pass was not safe. The enemy could be above, their snake eyes looking down on them, waiting, and ready to strike. The arrows would fly through the air and there would be no chance. What a massacre it would be. They would tell of it for years to come.
"Yes, and did you hear about Inuyasha's massacre? Not five miles away from where they started and they were all killed!"
"No, that can't be true."
"I swear on the Sea-God, it was the shortest war ever fought."
The rain was continuing to fall hard, and although the physical ailments did bother him—the cold, the hunger, the fear, the pain—it was his thoughts that had managed, somehow, against all hope, to transcend time and space. It was as though that the fear that had bound him not only a few seconds ago had flown above these clouds—a crow with no mouth.
A crow would seem fitting, he supposed ruefully, guiding Umeboshi about a corner, a crow, the bird of death and bad omens. But it meant nothing, he insisted. Whether or not he died in this war was of no importance—he was fully satisfied, there was nothing he felt missing. Of course, he would die with regrets, as had everyone before them. It was impossible not to have regrets—such was the way of the world. Could a crow sing a song as beautiful as a mockingbird? No, for such a thing was impossible. One could not ask for the unattainable, that was blasphemy in and of itself.
Yes, people laughed because they were alive—but did they see the bones they walked upon?
They were now parallel with the small Ishin Creek that would eventually flow into the Tenryu River. Swallowing hard, Inuyasha slowed Umeboshi's pace to a canter and waited for General Musou to approach him.
"Soon I am to leave you."
The general nodded and bowed slightly, although the action somewhat inhibited by the fact that he was riding atop a great horse.
"Yes, my lord, I am aware of the plans." Musou assured, reaching for the map tucked in his leather belt.
Shaking his head, Inuyasha nodded and replied, "I trust your judgment. Remember, if we cannot win the battle, there is nothing dishonorable in retreating—in the end, it might be retreating that wins us our victory."
Looking at Musou, Inuyasha suddenly wished that Miroku were here by his side. The two had practically grown up as children—every battle, every war the two had encountered, there was the perverted lecher. It was unwelcoming; it was going to be lonesome, crossing this wild and untamed territory without his friend.
Had Miroku been there, Inuyasha felt certain that this war would have turned favorable.
Musou could not understand, or perhaps he was not allowed to. The only thing the general saw was what he was supposed to see—the best way possible to win. Inuyasha, although commander of this army and the decider of battle tactics in general could not do what this general could; he was not as skilled as that. When those men returned, creaking back to their families on canes, permanently injured beyond repair—what could he, Inuyasha, do? There could be no apology that he could give; no sum of money could compensate the hurt.
I am not that strong, Inuyasha admitted bitterly, motioning the general to continue the troops moving. I will never be as strong as Sesshoumaru…
But now was not the time for self-indulging oneself as far as feelings were concerned. Now was not the time to sort out the relationship between him and his half-brother; now was not the time to think about anything except for winning. Competition and stress was where he did his best work, and, Inuyasha knew he would not give up until he drowned in his own blood. It would be painful, it would be tiring…this he knew…but he could not give up. Although the risks may not have been as high anymore, he still needed to prove, once and for all to his brother, that even though he was not as powerful, he was a formidable enemy…
The generals knew their plan; they knew the route that needed to be taken. Inuyasha himself and a quarter of his men were to travel across the Edomaki Valley until they reached the infamous Den Road that crossed over the Koten River. They would follow this road for sometime, through the rice fields, their main purpose in avoiding combat and successfully positioning themselves at the convergences of the Yoshinaka Pass and the Yuukie Pass.
The Yoshinaka and Yuukie pass were critical, but then again, Inuyasha admitted, all passes into his domain were key pieces to the war. There was no secure spot in this entire conflict—there was nowhere that was considered useless.
And maybe this made the stakes higher, the way they were meant to be.
General Hojo, positioned in Inuyasha's own fertile lands, was to cut across the valley until he reached the Tsuyoshi road, the main thoroughfare in and out of the Okuba Valley. Although other trails managed to infiltrate the Okuba valley, it was the Tsuyoshi Road that remained the keystone in this war. If the Tsuyoshi road was taken, so was Inuyasha's land. Three-quarters of the troops were to be taken on this venture to the Tsuyoshi road, a thousand or so men, however, were quartered to the Yamachi-Kofuchi triangle. It was a center position, and although this meant having the ability to be attacked on all sides, the Koten, Kyu, Koyou and Yoi River protected them with their rapidly moving waters.
The rain, it seemed, was not so bad…
Continuing along with the pace of General Musou, Inuyasha allowed the horse to lead him as he fell into thought once more. This war had come up so suddenly, although he had known of its existence since the previous summer—but the fact remained that he was not prepared. Had he actually expected everything to happen and be planned out without his involvement? And even if so, had he automatically labeled such responsibilities as Naraku's? He found that no work had been done at all; everything had been put together so haphazardly that it was impossible to tell their proper places. His course of action was as clear as mud, and for no one's fault but his own.
Truth be told, he would have been content with Kikyou amid the magnolia tree for the rest of his days…but such was not his fortune. His wind blew from his homeland, the east, and the place where things began…
As far as Inuyasha knew, Naraku had his own plans, ones that Inuyasha had not quite inquired on. Naraku was so dark and empty that he could not hide in his own sleeves. He did not trust Naraku, nor did he wish to know what the bastard held within his plum-colored sheathings. No, the only thing the youkai lord knew was that 'Sesshoumaru was in for a surprise', as the dark lord had so eloquently put it. The edges to all swords, all swords owned by every man (but particularly Naraku) were life and death and it was incomprehensible to decipher which side was which.
What was life?
What was death?
Would a friend's funeral burn within him like his own?
The rain continued to fall with an increasing viciousness that Inuyasha had never witnessed or felt before. Already, the rice crops showed signs of flooding, and the farmers that were not participating in the war were desperately trying to drain the paddies, although to no avail. Some were urgently trying to harvest the kernels from the stalk.
Water was everywhere, just as the war was.
Urging his horse Umeboshi forward through the great puddles, dripping forests, and flooded rice lands, he called out to his men, a great trail of horses behind him. It was a sea of movement, the flash of red from the uniforms, brown from the horse's flanks, grey from the great beasts' breasts, and the sound of hooves like the lull of the sea. Traditionally, these men would have marched, and although many were directed as foot-solders, due to the lack of time and open country, the horses proved more efficient to the call of war.
We have to make it to the Yoshinaka pass, if nothing else! Inuyasha swore to himself, wiping the rivers of rain from his eyes, it having temporarily blinded his vision.
Hojo can survive, I am sure…but we must get there! If we loose the Tsuyoshi Road then we don't stand a chance…
The rain continued to pour, but there was alertness in Inuyasha's eyes. Looking out at every corner, every turn, every bend, through every shadow, tree, hill, and mound—was the enemy here? There? Had they reached the bridge yet? Would battle face the men so early on in the war? Would they reach their strategic position and hold all that threatened to wash away?
He was unsure. Nothing was sure.
Looking up at the clouds, he noticed they were low; it took no words to pull them there. How ironic.
The horse's hooves beat faster against the puddle-pocked surface of the Den Road, and with each step, Inuyasha's heart beat as one, tightening a fraction each and every second until it was almost painful to breathe…
****
Drip
Drop
Drip
Drip
One after another they fell into the water, becoming one, morphing and merging until their existence as separate entities were but all forgotten to the world. Like the cherry blossoms of spring, no one flower was remembered—it was the collection as a whole that would be discussed through poetry for centuries to come.
Alone, it seemed, one would easily be forgotten.
Kikyou watched the rain as it dripped off from the roof and into a puddle at the base of the veranda. Closing her eyes, she allowed her body weight to fall against the exterior pillar, painted a deep burgundy, and drifted off into her own thoughts, mingled and mixed, falling about her like the precipitation.
She had not been able to tell Inuyasha of Kagome's residence with his brother, let alone the fact that it had been Naraku who had kidnapped his wife. No doubt, Naraku had been aware of her efforts in communicating such information to Inuyasha, and that had been the reason for his sudden appearance earlier on in the morn.
At least, that was what she presumed…
The lord was wise, this she knew, and he would keep any information away from Inuyasha that did not prove lucrative to himself. Kikyou had a feeling that these matters would appear again, quite soon, perhaps even more rapidly than she realized. Yes, Naraku had plans for this unspoken bit of information. Naraku knew of its use—he knew he could wield Inuyasha like a sword, and take control, play Inuyasha as a marionette, just like a famous puppeteer. If this was the case, Naraku would be the most renowned of all.
She could just imagine it, the two brothers having finally met each other in battle, and Naraku, in his magical ways, appearing before the two, whispering into Inuyasha's ear this very information. The hanyou would grow crazy as his eyes turned blood red and full of hatred; there would be no control. The boy would lash out.
Even if Inuyasha did not love his wife, men were strongly attached to property in any way, shape, or form. Kagome was his, even if he did not desire her. The blue-eyed girl was his to shelter, even if he would have rather thrown her aside into the wilds. It would be Inuyasha's will, not that of Naraku.
This she knew.
Her eyes opened, and a cold sweat had appeared on her brow, despite the cool temperature outside. Her body was shaking, and looking down at herself, she found her body glowing ever so lightly. I may be a walking corpse, Kikyou thought to herself, But I still hold my miko power.
She knew these signs. It was that of foresight. In her mind, in her vision, she had seen the future. The two men, facing each other, each hurt and confused and angry. She could see Sesshoumaru moving his mouth, trying to explain—but in her vision, she could hear no words. Or, perhaps there were none to begin with.
Naraku appeared then, smoothly, gracefully, nodding in composure to Sesshoumaru, as though the two knew each other much better than they should have.
Naraku must have made an alliance with Sesshoumaru as well…
There was no other explanation for his kidnapping of Kagome. The bastard wished the brothers to kill each other in one fell swoop, in that way Naraku would be ruler of the land in every degree. Such was the sick and perverse nature of Naraku, one Kikyou knew all too well.
-Try to understand, Inuyasha, it wasn't meant to happen! Don't you see, you fool, Naraku has betrayed us both? We are but pawns!-
She shuddered. There was more, and she knew it, but her power was fading. In truth, she was borrowing it from her other self, from Kagome, somewhere in time and space where even she could not see. She was borrowing her powers, and she silently apologized and murmured a prayer.
Her intentions had been good, she swore.
Turning towards the interior of her private chambers, she looked at a stack of silk kimonos resting complacently against the bureau drawer. Kimonos, a thing of this world she would never see again.
Ringing the bell for a servant, the miko waited in silence, and listened to the rain—the outside world as it fluttered past, a beautiful butterfly, being torn by the winds of misfortune.
She would ride these winds, she told herself, like the great gods. Her mission, she thought bitterly, realizing there were tears in her eyes, may be one of finality—but there was no place for her in this world any more. She was a character only introduced to move the plot along, and then, at the most convenient moment she would be killed.
There was no avoiding death, she realized unhappily, not wanting to have to face the darkness again without Inuyasha. No, her time in this world was soon running out. She could feel her body automatically using Kagome's powers to replace her own. The spell Urasue had preformed could become permanent, as long as Kagome died. Once the young, new, wide-eyed miko was killed, then Kikyou would return to life, full and complete. She would take the blue-eyed girl's place in the world, but would her presence be over-shadowed by the grief that would follow?
She bit her lip and swore silently. There was no winning in a situation such as this…
But there was no going back, the images, the visions would not fade from her mind, and she knew where her destiny lay. She would no longer be constricted to the shoji screens of this dwelling. Nay, she would venture out beyond this cage, and out into the battlefield, where one as innocent as her was destined. A miko with her past, and her future, belonged in no other place but amongst the rivers of blood. Perhaps then she could be stained like she so rightly deserved...she was not so presumptuous to assume herself innocent…no…that was her new self, Kagome, somewhere amongst the wilds.
Closing her eyes, she whispered softly to the servant who had just entered the room behind her. The rustle of fabric was so relaxing, and she imagined that it was Inuyasha—that he had returned, cast aside Naraku's agenda, and arrived to her once more…Glancing over her shoulder, her deep eyes momentarily alit like the fireflies of summer, but they died instantly. It was not he, nor would it ever be. Kikyou turned once again to the rain, the real world, not one filled with hopes and desires and her silly fantasies. He was not coming back…
"Bring me clothes fit for traveling."
She could hear the rustle of fabric behind her as the servant bowed, the swish of the shoji screen along its runner, and once again, it was she and the rain…
****
The figures emerged, all but actors in a play, making their way across the stage. Each step was one after another, planned, as though by a divine notion. Were the gods of the mountains studying their every move? What was their wish? Destruction? Salvation? Were they to be washed away by the rain? Would the trees throw them off their homeland and back into the flooded refuge of the valley, the valley where the sounds of battle now raged below? The loss of life was undistinguishable at this towering height above the earth—the daily happenings seemed trivial so far above, and the group that made their way, had only their lives to worry over. There was no pity in their heart for the young men and boys who lost their lives beneath them.
The group did not care as the boy, not but thirteen as he struggled to keep his sword aloft. They did not see him begging for mercy before his head was cleanly and efficiently lopped off. They did not see the tears, still hanging on his eyelids, never to fall to the earth. They heard and saw nothing, nothing but their own journey: the goal that seemed as unattainable as the stars.
Oh, Kagome thought dearly, nearly loosing her footing on a particularly spotty climb, why was it that war had to happen? What was land, after all? Was it the greed of humans that were the destruction of the world? Was it misunderstandings, lack of communication and empathy—what was the purpose? What was so important that it tore people from their homes, from their families, only to die in the most horrific of ways?
What man, what person, could take sport in such an action, when lives, as gentle and precious as the cherry blossoms of spring, were being torn from their branches? Yes, they would bloom again the next spring, and would they be frayed off once again? Was there…any end to this cycle? Was her life to be forever determined by wars, and death; exchanges and barters, valuable and worthless?
She did not know, and she feared the answer, and concentrated on only the necessities. She did not want to think. She did not want to wonder about war, the victor, and the loser; Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru. She did not want to remember how he had held her not but three hours ago…she did not want to remember his lips against hers. It would have been better had they never said goodbye…for now, that action, that single embrace, would haunt her for the rest of her days. This she knew above all others.
I wonder if he has ridden off to war yet…
There was no doubt that he had already left the fortress, she thought, her eyes moving back and forth amongst the forest floor, spotting a bramble, as though reading a book.
Of course he had ridden off to war. He was pressed for time, even while I was there. No, he has gone.
And she would never see him again; at least that was what her heart told her.
Trying to hold the tears within her body, she quickened her speed up the mount, one foot after another, until finally, after some time her thoughts had turned dark and stormy and back to the present. She would only concentrate on the weather, the road, the cold, the danger, and the fear—there was and there would be nothing else to her now.
She was Kagome Higurashi, wife of Lord Inuyasha, returning to his lands. That was it.
The road had become washed out, that is if it had ever existed in the first place. Kagome was beginning to doubt that there was even a faint trail through the treacherous mountains; she was lost like her emotions. Clinging onto a low hanging pine branch moving beneath her due to the strong gusts of wind, she called out loudly, "Miroku, where are we going?"
The monk, a few feet up the trail, and holding to a tree bough for support, called out quite vociferously, though his voice was swept up by the wind, "We will skirt along the mountains for some time and will take the Sagano Pass to the Seikoku Road. From there, we will journey to Sango's homeland."
Nodding slightly, and wiping the liquid away from her face as best she could, she continued to make her way arduously. Although having changed clothes more fit for traveling, they had already become soaked through by the continual downpour. There was no escape from the liquid, even amongst such lushly forested mountains.
But there was no escape from anything. Running was fruitless. Could she really avoid Inuyasha? Would this expedition out-maneuver Naraku and all his minions? She thought not.
Her gaze remained only a few feet ahead, footing her way about the small streams that had sprung up, the sharp rocks that could be painful should she lose her balance, and gleaming soil that proved to be unstable and often times created minor mudslides.
Kagome closed her eyes and tried to focus her breathing that had become rough and ragged. The trail was nearly vertical and every few steps or so she would have to grab out at a branch as support to help her up the hill.
Miroku and Sango were in the lead, and behind her was the wolf youkai known as Kouga. She distantly remembered having heard of his name before. Supposedly his clan was centrally located in the south on the farthest post of the Akaino Mountains.
That would mean they are in close proximity to Inuyasha.
After all, his fortress of Genma only lay on the other side of these mountains in the Okuba Valley…
But she did not wish to think of Inuyasha. Bitterness hung on her heart, that of regret and loss, and even the torrents of rain would not wash away the pain.
She stopped, and found another tree on which to lean against. Kagome had not realized that she was so physically weak—or perhaps it was the circumstances. The cold cut at her bones and it sliced through her clothing even as she ran her hands up and down her arms in an effort to stay warm. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt sick for a variety of reasons.
Bowing her head, she listened to the rainfall about her, on top of her, and through her. It was a chorus of singers, so beautiful and calming that it even managed to smooth over her uneven nerves. The rain lulled her into a quiet softness, one she wished never to escape from—such as Sesshoumaru's arms…
Warmth surrounded her suddenly, and glancing up she felt movement against her shoulder. A slight wash of color came to her cheeks and she looked up into the face of this man that she did not know. It was Kouga. Kouga, the person she had never met, Kouga, rough around the edges, Kouga who smiled down at her, his small fangs showing. How he managed to smile, Kagome could not guess. But, if he could smile, so could she.
He gave her strength, just by looking at her.
"Here," he whispered, the rain falling down his face, his deep, dark, damp bangs having dropped before his eyes. He pulled them away feverishly, and continued to wrap the animal fur about her shoulders. "You should be warmer now. The skin is water-proof."
Looking up at him, Kagome nodded and smiled, "Thank you."
Where has my old self gone? Where is the Kagome who smiled all the time? Where is the carefree girl who was not afraid to speak up? Has that part of me died? Escaped? Disappeared?
Am I still the same girl I once was…?
Kouga nodded and looked away before mumbling, "Get going now, we have a lot of space to cover before dark."
Unsure of how she should reply, Kagome turned once again and faced the mountain, one foot in front of the other. She did not see Kouga's appraising glance, nor the kindling of interest in his eyes. However, even if she had, her thoughts were so withdrawn so as not to notice. She was lost in her thoughts, and she had no intention of finding the way home.
At last, the procession had reached the top of the mountain, although there was hardly a view; only grey dreary clouds, water and pine trees. There was no vast blue yonder, or rice covered valleys. There was the rain and fog—and it was beautiful, beautiful in its destruction and death that followed it like a mosquito did a person on warm summer nights. Leaning against a fir tree as the other members of the group had done, she listened half heartedly as Miroku continued to explain to the group their intended plans.
It was not as though she did not want to listen to her old friend and all his plans—but she was the outsider, she was the thing they were supposed to protect, supposed to ensure the safe arrival of. She could voice no opinion…for after all; she knew not what was to be done with her.
At least I am warmer now…Kagome glanced back at Kouga and found that he was staring at her, although he directly turned away in a concentrated effort. She could not help but smile. He reminded her of Inuyasha in a way. But that was all so long ago. She was different, in those times. She had not changed yet.
"We will follow the mountain range along this until we reach the pass. But at the pass…we will part."
The monk's eyes flashed to Sango who casually leaned against a particularly fine tree, and he nodded, although slightly. Something had happened, something that was not quite visible to the trained eye, and Kagome had not even caught this subtle move between the two of them.
Kagome, fully alert now, gasped, "What? You are leaving us?" This truly did come as a shock. She had expected them to see her to…wherever she was traveling to. What was the purpose to splitting up this group?
The monk nodded, tucking stray pieces of hair behind his ears, although they immediately fell out again, "Yes, and Sango as well." His words were not forced, but planned, as though he had long thought of how exactly he was going to communicate this particularly…delicate…piece of information.
Kagome was speechless, and looked at the two in disbelief. Her blue eyes were wide, but she could say nothing. It was not her place. Her decision mattered not. Perhaps at one point, surrounded by the pine trees of Sesshoumaru's fortress, her opinion might have had some weight. Yet, at this point in time she was just a noble girl; she was not trained in battle, let alone mountain travel.
For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt truly weak.
Yet she was not the only one who was startled. A great roar of indignation came from the wolf-clan, but most profound was that of the leader, Kouga. In a great hurried movement, the youkai moved forward, his blue eyes alit and shining almost cobalt. They were filled with anger and indignation.
"What do you mean you're leaving us!?" Kouga was furious, bitter and impatient.
So much like Inuyasha…Kagome sighed self-consciously. It was as though, now that she had left Sesshoumaru's fortress, the realization that she was indeed married came to strike her with double the intensity as it had before.
"Yes, I made that perfectly clear." Miroku murmured soothingly, although there was an edge and seriousness to his voice that was rarely bestowed. Miroku, the lecherous advisor and traveling monk—always grinning and smirking, his eyes always jovial: there was no such characteristic now. He meant what he spoke.
"What the hell!? Why!?" Kouga shot forward, making his way angrily towards the monk through the puddles and grabbing him about the soaked collar and yelling furiously into his face, "This mission ain't just about you, y'know? And how come I get stuck taking little-miss-prissy home?!"
Blue eyes widened in anger.
And to think I was beginning to like him!
Yet it was true, she realized almost as quickly. She was a burden to this group. She was a weakling. Kagome was but a girl thrown into a situation against her will. Could she be expected to keep up with the group? Could she…? It was nearly impossible. She was 'prissy'; but through no fault of her own. It was what her social class had required her to be; never self sufficient, gentle, soft, beautiful—but strong? No…that was unheard of!
Miroku glanced at Kagome, who fingered the animal skin about her shoulders nervously, casting her eyes downward onto the hill they had just climbed. Perhaps, Miroku thought sadly, she wished to return to Sesshoumaru's domain so quickly. He could not blame her. The poor girl must have fallen in love, and to return to her husband who didn't really care?
Good lord, it was torture just thinking about it.
And Kouga, with his simple country manners, had gone about being as blatant and blunt as he obviously could. Had the youkai not an ounce of wit in his head? Did he not see how she suffered? Did he not notice her concentrated effort to ensure that she did not delay them?
"You insult her, and us." Miroku spat, hitting the leader upside the head with his brass staff with a free hand. The metal rings about the top echoed through the rainy hilltop.
Kouga relinquished his grip on the advisor, and rubbed his head in pain. "Y-You!" he sputtered angrily, his cheeks red and hot, even in the cold wind. Kouga's eyes fell back to Kagome's figure, but their vision did not meet.
Yes, now you see the pain you have caused, Miroku grumbled noiselessly.
But more explanation remained. He had to tell the group all he could. He had to make them understand what motives coursed through his blood. It would be unforgivable to leave them in the dark, especially concerning the matter with Sango.
"I only go, because my duty and honor lies in the pledge I gave to my Lord Inuyasha. It is my duty to ride with him into war. I cannot cast such shame upon my name, especially…" He glanced at Sango for a moment who had been watching him, her dark eyes silently smiling. She immediately turned away, a blush on her pretty cheeks, "Especially since when my child, bore by Sango, comes into the world—I do not want it to be born into a dishonorable house."
Kouga sputtered for an answer, Kagome was unsure whether to be disgusted or delighted, but satisfied herself with a gasp of surprise and clasping her hand upon her mouth. Her blue eyes fluttered down and saw a small firm mound appearing on her. She could not but help to smile. They were a good match, Miroku and Sango—both sensible, yet in their own ways. They complimented each other perfectly; Miroku and his lackadaisical nature and Sango with her serious disposition. Although their life was to be full of fights, Kagome reasoned that it would be a joyful existence, filled with many an unforgettable experience together.
It was for that reason, no doubt, that Sango wished to accompany Miroku to battle. To begin a life together, to only be separated through battle and death—oh, such was a pitiful idea, sorrowful and heartbreaking.
Sango, speaking for the first time, admitted embarrassingly, "We were married in the second to last town…in, private."
Kagome had never seen Sango look so happy, so elated; even between the cold and wet conditions that the world seemed compelled to offer. Sango glowed, like the light from the sun, touching everything and turning it warm and rosy. Stepping forward, and into a particularly large puddle, Kagome felt for Sango's outstretched hand and squeezed it. This was proof, proof that happiness could be found amid the battle scars, amid the blood and tortured cries.
Continuing on, Miroku explained, grinning against his will, "You will be enacting your revenge by escaping with Kagome. Naraku, no doubt, wants her to work into the picture somehow. By making her presence hard to locate, you will be thwarting his plans. Whether or not this is revenge enough for you remains to be seen. But, this is your duty now. You have already made a verbal agreement and—,"
"Oh, quit your yapping!" Kouga spat, interrupting and crossing his arms upon one another and shifting the weight in his legs. His deep eyes were calm and content, and strangely enough his cheeks were tinted pink, "Let's get going! The sooner I get to Sango's place, the better! It will take me days to dry off!"
He stalked off; one leg in front of the other, with a grace those years upon the mountains had allowed him. His dark hair, wet and wild, wiped behind him, a deep scowl on his pouted lips, but a deep elation in his eyes. He looked over his shoulder once, towards Kagome's figure, which still stood, solitary, beneath the great tree.
The group was quiet, and silently they set off on their journey once again, through the pine and camphor trees. Through the uncivilized world, through the world untouched by man—a world beautiful and innocent. And would these words, so harshly spoken beneath the towering boughs, poison the earth? Would this mountainside no longer hold the pure and clean waters that it was once so famed for?
The journey, once so brutal, was less taxing now that they had reached the top of the mountains and only had to follow the rises and falls of one slope after another. Did the animals, which lived upon this mountaintop, walk along this same path? Kagome, swift and nimble like the large-eyed deer that had managed to find her place in the ranks again, looked back at Kouga, a deep frown on her face.
Her fingers still clutched the tassels on the fur—uncertain of her actions, uncertain if she had the bravery to confront a being such as Kouga, the leader of the wolf clan. Yet, Kagome reasoned, she was free—free from Inuyasha, free from the world, and she would not continue to be this meek and scared creature any longer. "Kouga," she called through the falling drops, her hands slowly untying the strings. In a perfectly civil voice, she unfastened the fur from about her shoulders and threw it bitterly at him, the object falling atop a collapsed camphor log with moss growing on its old and withered frame. "I don't need your help," she informed him bitterly, before turning to follow Sango and Miroku through the rain. Her steps were hurried and light, and pride burned on her cheeks—she found herself smiling…a beam she never thought she could smile again.
Her elegant fingers wrapped about the gold pendant that now bounced with the rhythm of her steps.
I have not forgotten you, Kagome thought, her head looking down towards the valley she had just left, and towards the north, where she knew, hidden between the great mountains and pine trees lay Sesshoumaru's fortress, a place more dear to her now than her own ancestral home.
Kouga, bending over to pick up his tossed fur, held it tightly for a moment. What she had said was the last thing he had expected her to say. Not her, in reality, but any girl. She was different, more singular than he first believed. Turning to watch her retreating figure, he grinned to himself, suddenly knowing what he had been searching for during all his years of travel.
"That girl…,"
****
Leaves fell from the trees, one after another. It was not the wind and rain which caused such actions, no, they were falling, turning golden and red in some places—but it was not the rain which sent them on a journey to their graves. It was nature, a cycle repeating itself, each day growing closer and closer to the goal, and then, after that was reached, the next one. The scent of death and destruction, fermentation and ripeness was hinted on the wing.
The autumn had come, Kikyou realized, with a fury. There was no promise of warmth on the wing of the rain, there was no break in the clouds that revealed a warm lush sky—there was only the cool, water-colored heaven above. There was no warmth anywhere. She could feel about her the slow sleep the world was entering—preparing itself for the otherworldly whiteness of what was to come. She could feel the trees whisper their farewells as the leaves that had once been so green, so promising and full of life, now fell to the earth, dead and brittle, a mere shadow of what they had once been.
Ah, so fitting it was.
Yet, she could not allow her thoughts to stray to death, which was inevitable as the sunset. She could not allow herself to become weak, and her heart to panic under the fear of that infinite darkness once again. She would die, she told herself, but this time—not in vain. There were greater purposes for her in this world—like the fallen tree, her heart would be a home to all, and any who wished to find comfort within her.
The horse beneath her shifted its weight to its front legs. They had reached their first hill, slippery and treacherous, one of many that would take them down into the depths of the valley below. The creature's breath came rapidly, and Kikyou felt the pain of guilt in her heart—that she should be so comfortable atop the working animal. She, like so many before and after her where exploiting the things of nature…the goodness that she and her kind would turn to evil…
It was not intentional, she sighed in a self-sacrificing manner.
But it was of no matter. She could feel no pity. It was war, a time when if one carried such emotions it only quickened their death. To pity was to fear, and to fear was to die. Kikyou was not afraid, and nor would she ever be. She was but a woman, yet even tied by these bonds, she had to prove herself in a world dominated by men, in a world where women lived their lives within the shoji screens. The doors had been flung open, and the sunlight, all so foreign to her skin, was slowly turning her brown—she was slowly becoming used to the ways of this man's world. Could she ever return to the dark, satisfied? She was a sword that would cut through this rain, through this storm, a merciless angel, to the side of her beloved, even if that meant living a life so looked-down upon.
She had to protect him. The boy did not know of what danger lurked in the heart of that man; it was black and rotten, an apple that would affect many. Inuyasha was innocent and naïve; the first untouched snow of winter. She had been partially destroyed by that man's touch, but she had managed some how, to cut herself away from his destruction, and remained intact, however marred. Would Inuyasha and all his unquestioned ideals survive the brutal slashing that Naraku approached everything with?
Kikyou closed her eyes and listened to the rain. She could hear the sounds of war on either side, the echoes of voices, the clash of armor and swords, the sparks as the metal impacted. A few troops had managed to find each other through the rain, probably not expecting the other to peek out through the forest. But they were here now, and their voices echoed through the mountainous canyons. They were sounds of death that surrounded her.
A sword lay tied to the side of her crimson hakama, and her eyes flashed in the rain. Ahead was movement. It was blue. It was Sesshoumaru's men. To her it was neither enemy nor kinsman—it was an obstacle, something that would stop her on her journey. An arrow she was, she would fly through the countryside as she sliced through the world, and watch as it bled mournfully behind her. These men, atop the hills, had already sealed their fate. Like the readers of fortune on the side of the roads, she saw and could foretell all. Blood drained before her eyes.
Kill me…the world screamed, each tortured sob, one after another and after another until the world dripped and was soaked in their pleas.
The sword glinted now, unsheathed, in the rain. There could be no sparing them. The men would likely attack, this she knew. After all, she bore the color of their enemy: Inuyasha. For the men, the men dressed in the color of the heavens, she whispered the plea, as did the rest of the world.
Kill me; they seemed to hear through the fog and rain. To them, their eyes clouded with fear and anxiety, there would be no questioning. Whether she was the enemy or not, she could not pass. She could not pass. The one atop the horse would die, if not by their sword, than by another—but her future had already been predetermined. Their feet held tight into the mud, their toes curling about the earth, clinging for support and stamina as they slowly withdrew their swords from their scabbards, slowly, in a soft humming sound that rang in their ears.
The horse continued to gallop forward, each hoof following the next, through the rain, through the mud. With each step that this creature took the closer she became a murderer. She would soon be painted in black, like Naraku, the man who had brought her from the death. It was a full circle. Now, enclosed, in a torturous ring, she closed her eyes and unsheathed the polished sword. It had been her grandfather's—but that was many years ago, ancient to her now in this day and age.
She could hear their calls.
"It is one of them!" they cried, their straw hats above their heads giving them looks of a toy or a cheaply copied scroll they used to sell in the streets of Kyoto. Soldiers were all alike under the helmets and hats. If she could not see their eyes, if she could not make the connection—then to her, they were just walking objects, with no heart, with no soul, with no fears and emotions.
Kikyou closed her eyes once again. Yes, at this moment, at the crest of the hill, she too would partake in the actions that would make this valley overflow with crimson. These were her first killed. How many more would suffer under her sword, meant only for good intentions? These men would never know the difference. To them, she would be death, Shinigami…with a sword of doom and pain.
They were not but ten feet away. She gradually allowed the blade to swing low. The men were on her right side. There were only two, but through the trees she could see the glimmer of the hats, hidden through the branches. Perhaps those within the shelter of the forest could predict the future as she could—perhaps they knew that if the ventured out onto the road it would only bring death.
Had they not seen the blade? For there was no sound of metal. In fact, it has been a clean cut through the bodies. Soft and juicy, in three moves she had slashed through them both, clean through the center; the horse and its momentum had helped the process.
Had they realized they were dead yet? Perhaps a couple more beats from the heart, a blink of the eye, a breath, and then…they would fall like flies.
She did not look back. Kikyou was well acquainted with the techniques of battle. After all, she was born and raised in a feudal age. Yes, the men would continue to stand for a moment, and then their legs would collapse beneath them, followed quickly by the body. The two halves would not land together, but a few inches apart, blood flowing late into the night from their pulsating and twitching halves. By evening, this hill would be swarming with rats over the lifeless bodies.
Bringing the sword forward, in her free hand, she withdrew a white handkerchief and wiped off the fresh and gleaming blood. In an instant, it was gone, like their lives. But the memory remained, stained forever on this once unsoiled piece of cloth. Never would the stain be truly removed from the fabric—and perhaps, it was just…the only physical evidence of their existence.
A whisper of a prayer hung on the wing, following her. She sang it until she reached the first bridge, now deserted; it had not yet been fallen upon by the second wave of troops.
She sped on. There was so much she had not said. There were to be no regrets as she rode to her death.
None at all, she swore.
****
It was cold, and wet and rainy. It had been this way for days. Or, at least so it seemed.
How quickly would this war would have ended if the rain clouds had not flooded the roads and rice-fields. The rain fell with the same fury that the blood would by tomorrow. The first days were always the most dangerous. It allowed the soldiers to fall into a false sense of security. Come tomorrow, their smirks and grins would be wiped off their dripping faces, and they would truly realize the hardships of war. They would truly see the pain in their enemy's eyes, they would feel the blade against their stomachs, or necks, or arms—and in that second, the men of the battle would realize that there was no turning back. It was honorable to die for one's lord, but no one ever said it would be swift and painless.
No, it took some days; drowning in their own blood, or in the heavy rainfall that blinded their vision and consumed their lungs: the cold, wet rain, so reminiscent of November, while darkness closed about them blinding them slowly.
A lone figure amongst the green and blue and grey stirred, moved, and separated itself from the road, now under two inches of water. The figure, bathed in a rich, deep red, his happi coat flaring about him in the bitter wind, narrowed his golden eyes, as deep and murky as the weather, almost brown in this light, and sighed deeply.
"Will this damn rain ever stop!?" Inuyasha grumbled to himself as he jumped off his horse with a great splash, water soaking into his already drowned clothing. He stood there for a moment, his legs engulfed in deep brown water in the flooded rice-field. He had been riding for most of the day—half way to his journey's end. Half way to his death, half way to his life, half way to his brother, half way from his wife—he was alone now, within the glassy lake whose edges moved and vibrated with each passing wind. His journey and fate lay parallel to this road, and once he reached his destination, he would see, truly, once and for all, whether his destiny was on this earth, or above, amid the great stars of his father. Fate would be concluded the next day—that is, if he saw the coming dawn.
That itself seemed unlikely, for nights, alone in the wilderness, were one of the most vulnerable times a man of war and action could suffer. Danger was rampant like the plague, and ones mind got the better of them, as they huddled, alone and cold in the dark, shivering, and trying to glue reality and distortion together.
It was nearly five in the evening, and steadying his shaky stance against the horses shuddering body, he patted its coat gently. The animal was hot and sticky, covered in a mixture of sweat and rain, much like himself. His thoughts had been deep on this journey—there had been much to think over, much over looked, and, sadly he admitted, it was he to blame. Inuyasha had allowed his thoughts to journey high above the clouds to where happiness lay—but now that he was beneath them once again, the shades of grey and white and black distorted his vision and regret followed him with each step.
"You did well, Umeboshi, you did well." Inuyasha sighed gently, resting his head against the saddle.
There had been the matter with Miroku, of course. For the past three months he hadn't a clue on where his advisor was, let alone if he was still alive. He had allowed his emotions to get the better of him, something Miroku had continually warned him of. But it was too late for Miroku, only time would tell if that wound would heal.
Inuyasha knew that he had betrayed Miroku. Yes, he had pride enough to admit he had fallen prey to Naraku's temptations. He had gone against his advisor's word. And where had it left him? An ally to a man he did not trust for something as simple as a bet? No, Naraku was foul and dangerous—and it had been his weakness and want for Kikyou that had allowed the dark lord to consume his soul.
He hated himself and even more; only one thing kept him going, the promise of Kikyou and the end to the war.
Inuyasha both loved and hated that woman more than he could bear.
Kagome, despite her lack of presence rested heavily on his mind. He could not help but feel guilty in his regards towards her. He liked the woman well enough, and he would even dare to say he admired and respected her—but now nothing could justify his feelings, now that Kikyou had once again returned to his life. Inuyasha could not expect himself to choose between the woman he once loved and his wife—but hadn't the decision already been made? Did not Kagome now lay tossed aside in some unknown sector of the world? Yes, she did, and although Inuyasha would not have it any other way—pain and resentment rested on his heart, for he knew, he had done one of the most despicable actions ever. Inuyasha had thrown away his wife, a woman who was long dead in his eyes, for another…He had been cruel and needlessly so.
Yet what could be done, Inuyasha thought fitfully. A divorce against her would blacken both their names forever. Each would be shunned even more so from society, and his house, no doubt, would run into extinction. Inuyasha could not destroy his father's name. That too, was beneath him.
Yet what was to be done? What was to be done?
Inuyasha could not even begin to wonder what actions he could take—and the guilt weighed heavy on his heart. He had betrayed what was legally his; he had thrown her away by the wayside. For months he had tried not thought of her, but this had been purposefully so. Even against his better will, while lying in Kikyou's arms, he had thought of her. Thought of a future he could have had, but had not chosen. But, Inuyasha, he had no regrets…he didn't.
There were so many questions, so many other veiled threats and whispers that hung on his mind that he could not help but force his thoughts in another direction—to the present, to the future, but not, not, to the past. If he thought about that, he would only drown in his own fears…and now was not the time. War was on, a battle against his brother, against his fellow countryman.
He had parted from his men at least three hours ago and given their command to a General Musou, a man that Miroku, some months ago, had suggested partake in this war. Miroku seemed now but a memory, and amongst the loneliness of this deserted field, he, Inuyasha for the first time in month's felt the pain that his friend was far away in places unknown.
The wind howled about him, and raindrops, sharp like daggers stung at his skin. He had to find safe shelter before night. Being caught in the Yoi-Tenryu River Point and just barely off the Kei Road was dangerous, even to the most skilled of warriors. Thankfully, there was a low-lying mountain range bathed in deep forests. There, amongst the hills, he would find refuge in a cave he remembered from his youth. There he would find safety.
Guiding the horse through the flooded rice plane, Inuyasha stepped slowly forward, his clothes sticking to his sides, making the journey long and arduous. As he made his way across the wind-swept terrain, thoughts flooded through his head, thoughts and memories he had not allowed himself to think for so long. At Naraku's castle, he had kept his emotions inside, enclosed and it almost tore him from the inside out.
The rain had lessoned some now, and the world was in the process of drying off as best as it was able to. From the boughs, water droplets, as large as ornaments on a tree, hung on their bare branches—for their leaves had blown off in the sudden and devastatingly strong gusts of wind. The world was throwing off its beauty and preparing for winter—winter a time of cold reflection. Winter, a time of death and stillness, winter, Inuyasha's most hated season of all…
Inuyasha sighed, and Umeboshi trotted forward. The cave he knew of was just over the next hill and deep enough into the forest not to be easily discovered by Sesshoumaru's men. He and his brother had happened upon it once in their youth, in a water-colored memory of happiness—a time in which father had been alive, and smiles had been so beautifully painted on all their faces. In that time, that one golden memory, their smiles had been true, their smiles had been real, and as the two silver haired boys had crept into the cave, both slightly nervous, their father's jovial chuckle ringing throughout their ears…
Sleep hung at his eyelids, and brushing it away fervently, Inuyasha swore softly. That memory always brought a smile and warm feeling his body, making him sleepy. But memories proved dangerous, even to one such as him. In truth, Inuyasha just wanted this war over. It didn't really matter whether or not he won—he had Kikyou, which was all he wanted. The world could crumble, his brother could die, his lands be destroyed, his wife forever forgotten…all could fall to ruins; all could disappear, if only she remained with him. He was greedy, this he knew, but had not he suffered for so many years? Did his happiness constitute anything at all?
Over the years, his brother had suffered losses from great amounts of men and resources—surely this war, these attacks, had been enough to make his intentions known? Would this conflict end soon? Would Sesshoumaru prove undefeated, and would he, Inuyasha, crumble once again? Would Sesshoumaru once again take everything he had held dear? Would he be forced to watch another murder?
Why did you do it, Sesshoumaru? Over the course of his life, Inuyasha had asked this question many a time. Sesshoumaru was a bloodthirsty youkai; this Inuyasha knew and had witnessed many a time before. Yet, what had been the motive behind his actions on that warm summer morning? Had Inuyasha offended him in some way? Had Sesshoumaru, himself, fallen for Kikyou? This seemed unlikely, the fact that a woman could ever touch Sesshoumaru's heart—no, the thought was nearly impossible. Sesshoumaru? Fall prey to such things?
No. It was unrealistic. He brother was as cold as a stinging sword, and just as brutal.
Was this…damnation, worth his time and effort? Was it worth the lives of his people, the destruction of his lands…? Was Sesshoumaru's wrath and destruction upon the world more than necessary? What would it accomplish? It was time, Inuyasha decided, that this family conflict ended, and whether the odds should prove favorable or ill, he would take him. Inuyasha would grow up, and accept his fate if that was what the gods above him had predicted. If it was life, so be it. If it was death, so be it.
****The bushes hung wet and black with water, their forms hardly decipherable against the darkness of the overhanging bows of the forest. The wind whispered through its leaves and branches, softly and swiftly, causing a light musical sympathy to ensue. The dark brush parted, not but one hundred meters way and through the tangle of leaves and moss, General Kyokotsu slowly narrowed his snake-like eyes. There, in the deep murky green of the valley, there, among the darkness, the color of red splashed and flashed, almost as though beckoning all onlookers forward. In such a terrain as this, it was foolery indeed to wear such a shade…and the general's lips formed into a great gaping smirk. Even amongst the scattered droplets of rain, the wind, and the great bows the trees, all was visible…and oh, it was too perfect, too perfect to imagine.
A filter of thoughts ran through Kyokotsu's head, but almost automatically, he strung the bow. It quivered and whispered, just like the rain and wet about him.
My, my, Inuyasha is too risky to wear such obvious colors out in the open…It was almost too perfect. By the palpable posture it was obvious the youkai lord was bordering on exhaustion, and perhaps even mental collapse. His ears were drooped and un-alert—no doubt, only sleep rested on his mind, if not darker images at work. Yes, Shinigami was awakening once again, after a long sleep from its confined quarters.
Kyokotsu smirked, and scratched his stubble. He hadn't shaved since last Wednesday and an unruly amount of hair was beginning to appear…soon, if such trend continued, he would have a beard, and he would be unrecognizable to his enemies. He had faced the hanyou Lord Inuyasha in war before, losing more than his dignity, but his pride as well. It was now time to wreak his revenge along the unsuspecting and innocent being, down there, among the rice fields…
The bow quivered in the strong, whip-like zephyr, and steadying his crouching position he glanced back over his shoulders. His men, no, more like Naraku's men, had stopped for the night. Their aim was the southern most entrance into Inuyasha's valley. There, the men would make a great sweep through the dale, pillaging and destroying the territory—par directions. Kyokotsu was unsure what his lord had up his sleeve, but he did not question. He was but a general and a slight alcoholic at that…
"God, I could use some heated Choya…" he snorted, rubbing some clear liquid away from his nose. The weather was terrible—cold and wet, and only doomed to get worse. Every couple of years when the unpredictable Chinese rains came, the country was always hit hard. Hopefully, those rice-farmers with any brains, had harvested their crops early. The summer had been fairly hot, and so premature ripeness could be expected.
The general was on duty now, guarding the entrance to the cave. How their lord had known of its existence still remained a mystery to him—but the general wasn't complaining. After all, it was better than having to spend a night out in the wet.
He was soaked through, after-all…
He blinked, feeling exhaustion set into his system, he shifted his legs somewhat, allowing the blood to flow to those appendages once again.
Kyokotsu's eyes narrowed, and lifting the bow up, he stood, out of the brush, his aim true…to the direct back of Inuyasha. Although Naraku had instructed that nothing be done with Inuyasha until he reached the Shikon no Tama shrine, Kyokotsu reasoned, how would the lord Naraku know if something unforeseen was to happen?
It's not like an arrow through the back will kill him…instantly.
His chapped lips turned up. It was always so much fun preying upon the oblivious.
The bow was taut now, and the steel arrow glinted in the weakening light of day. Droplets hung onto the string, collected, and fell to the dark dank ground bellow.
The General Kyokotsu released the arrow, almost tenderly. It shot through the air, cutting through the rain, the trees, the air, the world—fast and true was its target. It only laid for one, the hanyou lord, set to die by the war's end.
Inuyasha was not allowed to live. His arrow, that now sped like a magnet towards his back—it was destined for none other. The arrow was drawn to the scent of death…
There was a terrible sound. Flesh, and metal colliding…a great rip, a thud…
Inuyasha collapsed with a splash; crumbling to the mud, face down in foot of water, red slowly creeping out from his body, surrounding him and enclosing him in a womb…He was but a picture of red, the green surrounding him on all sides, the world goading him on, smirking, laughing, slapping his face with the rain, which had started once again. Yes, the world of green and blue and grey scorned and pitied and provoked the young lord, who now laid, quite still, in the water, his eyes closed, unseeing of the water that now pulled him to his murky end.
The silver haired hanyou did not move…he did not resist death as he floated into the darkness…
****
***
**
*
AN: I know. You hate me. Cliffhanger. Haven't really done that for a while, though, have I? This chapter was originally going to be so much longer, but since I am having such a hard time recently, I figured I would just make it shorter, so you guys could read it sooner. Hope that helped you guys out a bit. Maybe short chapters are the key, perhaps.
If you have any questions, please ask me. Kyokotsu is actually an anime character from Inuyasha, case you didn't know. Some random guy I picked up…because I needed some more people. Generals and stuff. If someone could please send me a picture of this Goshinki, or whatever his name is, that would be much appreciated. That way, I can work him into the story, somehow…
As far as the bit with General Musou goes, I just had to add him in, so just pretend he isn't evil. He was too cute and I could not resist. I know, it makes no sense, but does it really have to? Just imagine Musou as a nice, beautiful, pretty boy…with *no* ulterior motives! ^-^"
Read, review, say achu!
Questions? Comments? Just want to rant?
E-mail me: cappiepost@yahoo.com
Feel like visiting my site, for some odd reason?
Want to know what the hell I am talking about territory wise?