Shadows Against a Shoji Screen Chapter 31: the song of the forgotten, an inuyasha fanfic

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Spoilers: none

AN: It took me a long time to get chapter 30 out, and probably even longer for 31. I compiled all the chapters of Shadows into one long thing (279+ pages) and while I was reading through it, I remembered about all the things that I started and left unfinished. This chapter is to clear this up, somewhat, as well as get rid of the cliffhanger I left on the last chapter. In this chapter you can expect to see the reemergence of Kai (remember him? I didn't!), Kaede and Hiroyoshi, more about "the swords", end of the cliffhanger, and (due to popular demand only) Sesshoumaru-sama.

***

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 31

The Song of the Forgotten

***

Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Rating: pg13

Genre: romance/action/adventure/drama

Spoilers: none

***

Shadows Against a Shoji Screen

Chapter 31

The Song of the Forgotten

***

The rain had lessoned with the coming of night; those two elements, so dark and dreary, fighting for control. Two cats, a black and a white, two pieces of the Go board, fighting, fighting until the end.

Amidst the dripping world of the present, amid the towering trees, the small shrine was situated quite picturesquely amongst the green. It was traditional and Shinto in its design, no splash of red; no great Chinese roof highlighting the hillside. There was only the earth, molded and sculpted into the architecture. It was the forgotten Manabe Shrine of the Eastern Lands.

A figure moved across the great gravel covered plane, a simple bamboo broom planted firmly in her hand. Her dark eyes, filled with an unknown grief, strayed from the temple and out onto the valley which was presented below.

This was the beauty of the forgotten. The forgotten could look over the land, seeing what no one could see, plan and plot and wait. This was its splendor.

The valley floor was calm and peaceful, the green rice fields swaying softly in the breeze, no longer torn by the violent storm that had temporarily passed. Tonight and possibly tomorrow would be calm and star-studded as the eye of the storm passed overhead.

The figure cast her deep dark eyes downward and sighed. The war had begun, though it was as silent and stealthy as the night. Yet come tomorrow, the land would awake to unimaginable blood floating in its once green depths.

But for tonight, tonight there would be peace.

"Do not concern yourself too much, Kaede," a voice behind the figure said soothingly.

The form turned around, her dark eyes clouded, her long ebony hair swaying in the light breeze. Her lips were parted and her expression troubled.

"I know it was unwise of me to have trusted him so. We did not make it clear, that night, about what Naraku is truly capable of." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and scowled angrily, "I remember his hotheadedness of the past. It was foolish of me to think he could change so greatly in eighteen years."

She looked up towards the person, Hiroyoshi, her husband, and waited for his response. The man had shifted his expression upward and towards the sky, "And what will we do, then, hm? When the wounded remain dying in the fields, will we turn an empty eye, because of the foolishness of the past?"

Kaede followed his gaze to the rapidly moving clouds above. It was becoming night quickly, and soon they would have to ring the temple bell. Those farmers, still fearless enough to brave the elements and the troubles of war would soon return to their homes that called out for them, unheard, through the breeze.

"No, we shall not," Kaede replied at length, her thoughts lethargic. "We shall allow them to have a place of refuge. For all sides."

"Even Naraku's men?" Hiroyoshi questioned, sternly gazing at her, his eyes serious.

She nodded curtly, "Yes, even Naraku's. Those men do not know what evil infests them, but we can overlook them for blind deeds."

A grin slowly appeared on Hiroyoshi's lips and he quirked amusedly, "Yes, this is the Kaede I married."

Kaede chose not to reply but silently felt out for his hand in the growing twilight. Come tomorrow, would the war separate them even farther than death could? Their fingers intertwined softly, and closing her eyes, Kaede inhaled a large amount of breath and leaned anxiously on her husband's shoulder.

Humming slightly to herself, she whispered to the night, "Isn't it amazing how far the bounds of love can take you?"

Farther than the sea, the night replied, farther than the sea.

***

It was a red blanket that covered him. Red in all its layers, one that he could not escape from for it was as impossible as time. But then again, he did not wish to. He knew he could die, and would have wished it if possible. He would have drowned in that water at that moment, and he tried, tried to fall into the darkness that seemed so comforting and simple. Death, to him, was just as intangible as the clouds.

No matter how far he reached, he just couldn't touch their feathery substance.

Yet perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, this would be his moment. This would be the end. He did not desire the end, truthfully. But his regrets were futile and unavoidable. To die now…

He could feel the blood leaving his body, only encouraged by the presence of water all around him. The footsteps of his attackers shouted in his ears. They would come, and destroy his body, and he would no longer be Inuyasha, lord of the eastern lands.

Just as long as Naraku was killed, tortured, destroyed; just as long as he failed, Inuyasha would die happy.

And for some odd reason, Inuyasha knew that Sesshoumaru would take care of the bastard. If the youkai could not get his revenge upon his hanyou half-brother, who better to feel his wrath than the hell-sent demon himself?

It was a fading twilight, and already the moon had appeared on the horizon? So early in its cycle had it risen? The creamy orb would soon look over the land, and twinkle down onto all. Tomorrow night would be the full moon, but already, he could feel the power coursing within him.

This had been his genius, hadn't it? To attack when he was ripe and ready to be picked was the key to his victory. Yes, this had been his plan, his thought, and he digested it over the past months.

But it was over now. The steps were nearly upon him, and the darkness was clouding his vision. He had gone blind with death.

He fought it no longer; he thought no longer, he lived no longer; for there was nothing else besides destiny…

…

But was destiny? Was destiny created by his own actions, or by that of others? Was destiny something he created or was it foreordained? Was he just a piece to be controlled and captured in a game of Go? Would his existence be of any importance? Would this last and final move win the game before it had started? Could he afford to let life get in his way from his goals?

No.

The blood that poured from his back—was this equal of the blood that would be shed at another point in time? Was this not indeed his destiny, or did it lie somewhere else, beyond the next hill? Did it lay slashed by the hand of his brother? Was his life rightfully Naraku's property? In whose palm would he eventually fall into? Would there ever be one?

All were questions as large and as unfathomable as existence he now floated amidst, a lotus among the muck? Could he really be satisfied with that which he could see but could not hold?

He thought not.

No.

He did not want to die. Not yet. Yes, of course, it was a fact; he would die eventually—most likely during this war. But no, not now. If he was to die, he deserved something more spectacular, or at least to be surrounded by his kinsman. But alone, in the dark, where no one would find his body for days to come?

Such a death was not for him.

He pulled himself, grasping onto to any ounce of energy he had within him, holding on tightly to the promise of tomorrow. And there, in the growing night, Inuyasha arrived once again at the fading day.

Fear gripped at his heart as did the water. Terror held him close in its crimson embrace. His eyes were red like the war, and like the war, there could be no stopping him now…

***

The rain had stopped and so had she. For the night she had managed to find residence in a secluded town off the Den Road, so small and insignificant it was not even alluded to on the map. But find residence she had, she as so, she was content with it all, with it all.

Having retired early for the night after breakfasting lightly on miso soup, rice, and a bit of meat, she stared up at the heavens. The clouds, like her fate, were beginning to clear. If there was such a thing as destiny, she could feel it enclosing about her now, she could feel its hands, so warm and sensuous.

What a flirt destiny was. How it danced before you, how it strutted and laughed and pointed. One could chance it, but to what avail? You would find yourself within its grasp sooner or later.

The first star had appeared and the clouds had separated, their edges burned with the splash of silver. They moved along, their fates and burdens traveling to the north. She bid them farewell, knowing that tomorrow their relatives would visit once again.

No, in this fading twilight, there was only herself within these shoji screens. Kikyou was alone, free, and flying to the side of where she belonged.

It was reaching the five o'clock hour and the sun was setting early on such a day. It did not come as much of a surprise. Perhaps, the sun realized, as she did, that tomorrow would be a long, hard and bloody day.

Closing her eyes, the humid wet air surrounded her form, and she gingerly wrapped the light covers about her, not yet ready to surrender herself to that darkness which continually scratched at her eyes. To her, sleep was a deranged beast, pillaging her body at all times.

Yes, sleep and death, they were but the same. Yet one was much longer in its duration.

Heaving a sigh, she rested her head against the wooden pillar and closed her eyes. Just a little longer, just a little longer…

Red. Blood. This was all she saw.

Her deep black eyes opened with a start, and gasping for breath, she tried to concentrate. Her powers, once free of Naraku's domain were returning, returning quickly like a landslide ready to consume her any second. She had to concentrate, for what she saw; these were images that would never reappear again…

Crimson, covering him like a blanket.

It was Inuyasha, swaying underneath a blanket of green rice fields, falling into this pit of moist darkness. He was breathing faintly, still alive, still having the will to continue on.

But he did not wish it. Perhaps he too saw that destiny was inevitable.

Kikyou was not chasing that fiend this time; destiny was perhaps unavoidable, if only temporary. Like the sun, destiny would rise again, but not for a few hours at least.

She stood quickly and made her way to the open window, her breath filled with grief and pain. She had to help him, even in her weakened half-alive state. Inuyasha was the only love she would ever know, and through life and through death this truth would remain the same. Yes, she would wait there amid the rubble of her life—but Inuyasha, his temple had yet to be destroyed. This was only a temporary crack, she would remedy it quickly.

He could not fall. Not now. Not when there was so much to lose.

"Do not believe, Inuyasha," Kikyou whispered up into the night sky, "that I will let you die."

Quickly grabbing her provisions, yet to be unpacked, she quickly hurried down the stairs. If she was not fast enough, the boy would die; of all tragedies in the war, this would be the greatest. Inuyasha would not, he could not die. She would not allow it.

Throwing a few coins onto the front desk, she dashed to her horse and swung quickly over his sides. Within a second she had taken off down the wet and muddy road, once again riding against the currents of destiny. If she could just hold out a little longer, if she could just put the pieces together, and into the correct positions than she would die with no regrets.

Regrets were not for the young, but she was old now and she was not allowed such indulgences.

Speeding off into the night, she tried to concentrated her borrowed power onto Inuyasha's form, lying their, still and quiet in that wind swept terrain. She did not know how effective this effort would be, but all she needed was time. She was but a woman, half-dead, a walking zombie, still not yet come to terms with her fading life. Like a firefly alight until the end, she would try if it was the conclusion. To die to save the one she loved, yes, there would be no greater death than that. If the boy came too close to death, if he became too frightened, if he allowed fear to grip at his heart, then all would be lost to that fear.

Like the blood that surrounded him, his eyes would turn red, and there would be no hope of survivors.

But then, with Inuyasha, there hardly were any. The boy was a double-edged sword, and none were free from his wrath…not even she.

The footsteps echoed softly behind her, the footsteps of destiny, so close and so far in the bemused world.

***

The Lord Sesshoumaru glared down onto the rain drenched valley. His expression was hard and ruthless. There was no glimmer of emotions he had so passionately displayed at dawn. There was just cruel reality.

Picking his way amongst the pond of grass, Sesshoumaru held back a sigh and returned to his horse that was nibbling at the leaves of a camphor tree. Behind the great creature lay a swarm of forms; tents, human bodies mulling about the camp, armor, knives, blood, and swords. All the ingredients of war lay before him. It was his recipe.

The horse grunted as Sesshoumaru pulled himself atop and nudged it forward. He was to ride on tonight to Tairo, before his men come the next day. One man could easily infiltrate any enemy territory…or youkai, in his case…

And there was only one person he wished to meet amongst the wreckage of war-torn bodies.

Even now, this early, only one day into the blood-feast, if he could end it, if there was some way, any way, and then he would find it.

The sword, Tetsusaiga, it was nearly a memory. Of course, he would desire it—he had always desired it…but now it no longer seemed important. That piece of metal, that sword, was one of his youth, his desire to kill, to inflict pain. He was older now, as much as he denied it, he saw that blood and war only created unhappiness.

He had learned this too late in life. The chase was over. The play was coming to a close. The climax of his youth had ended, and now there was but gradual slope to his demise. Whether or not he would reach the bottom today, tomorrow, or in ten years; it was of no matter.

Tetsusaiga seemed so distant and unattainable at one time, but now, he realized, in spirit he had always carried Tetsusaiga within his soul. He had wanted to kill in his youth, kill for the cruelties and uncertainties and injustices.

Yes, his father had seen Sesshoumaru's lust for blood, even early in his youth. This had been the wisdom of Inutaishou.

And only now would Sesshoumaru admit to this downfall.

The horses steps quickened beneath his feet. The country side sped by, a Noh play, only the basics in the world now. Only the essence.

His soldiers had killed forty some men today on the way to the Minami Road and over the Tenryu River. These men had been part of a small brigade and his own solders had cut through them like a katana through the soft surface of tofu.

The blood had spilled, yes; the men had died, yes. They had not been his men, but his brother's. Even if he did not wish to fight, he could not live and die all in the same breath. If life required that he win this war, if life required that he fight this war, he would do so.

The rain had stopped now and the clouds were clearing as the eye of the storm approached in the midnight hours. The stars twinkled high above his head, stitching in the great kimono that covered him protectively. It reminded him of her, and the ever-blue color of her eyes, that daily, with the force of the storm would turn from clear, to cloudy, to tempestuous, and once again back to clear.

Such was the cycle of that strange girl, the one he would not forget.

Was she high in the mountains by now, fleeing to the safety which she both loved and hated? Was she more content?

A poem from the great Chinese master Tu Fu entered into his head. It was a poem he knew she would have liked. It symbolized that longing which could never be quenched. Like the windswept sand dunes of Hokkaido, there was only that infinite silence and longing…

By bent grasses

In a gentle wind

Under straight mast

I'm alone tonight

And the stars hang

Above the broad plain

But the moon's afloat

In this great river

Oh, where's my name

Among the poets?

Official rank?

Retired for ill health?

Drifting, drifting

What am I more than

A single gull

Beneath sky and earth?

But that was just regret for his youth, one that he was not allowed. He cherished those memories, he fed upon them, finding strength…but the god's would not be so kind as to actually grant him happiness, would they? No. He thought not.

There was only revenge to him…a revenge as sour and repulsive, one he had waited too long to savor.

The countryside flew by on the back of the horse, and willingly, Sesshoumaru sped towards his brother. His fool hardy, idiotic brother. It was all but complete now, this circle. The girl, the one object he had wished for, over Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga, it was his brother's once again.

Ah, how ironic were the gods.

A smile came to Sesshoumaru's lips as he rode through the hand-stitched blanket of night. Yes, yes, the war had begun. Blood had been spilled. More would fall to the ground tomorrow, and the day after and the day after. But it was all-meaningless... Until he met Inuyasha in war, there would be nothing.

All he could do now was to wait for his brother to come to him, as he would eventually do.

The road sped by into the night and he was enticed by its lull. He had not slept in some twenty-four hours, and oh, so much had happened. He had bid farewell to Kagome, the one girl he would ever truly love, he had ridden off to war, killed the innocent, and was hurrying on to kill more.

But this was just a dance.

And dance he would, until he met that partner that he was so itching to meet.

Inuyasha…

***

Kill…I will kill them all…

The hanyou stood engulfed in that dark sea of water, his eyes as red and as hungry as the pitiful youkai that crawled on the battlefields scavenging for food. He saw nothing but the bodies before them, their steps echoing in his ears. He saw their arrows, their pointed swords, he saw them all.

But none ever pierced through the red fog his brain that had now been consumed.

It was over for these men now. Their deaths would be cruel and painful and meaningless.

And how willingly they walked towards death, shrouded in its crimson robes.

The great breast of a man walked, no, stumbled forward, a great smirk spread across his features. He thought himself the victor already.

But to Inuyasha, the wound which now poured from his back was only flesh. He would live still. He would still live, die and kill.

The man was but ten meters away, his sword already withdrawn and glinting in the growing twilight. The man lunged with all the fierceness of a mountain storm, victory already painted on his features.

But rain and water and blood washed away the paint, and Inuyasha moved as well. His steps were calm and slicing, perfectly refined in their movements. He attacked to kill.

And kill he did. His great claws, now as sharp as razors, crashed through Kyokotsu, feeling the blood sprout and cover his hand as he ripped through the armor and into the skin and deep into the dark red abyss. The blow was so powerful and deadly that it traveled through the figure in a dull squish.

For a minute there was nothing, no movement but the bending blades of the grass. And then, the blood, like the rain itself, poured down from the heavens, blemishing Inuyasha and forming a new man under his reign of terror. Kyokotsu fell with a splash into the water, his eyes unseeing, his mouth still smirking until death, his pupils unfocused and dull like bits of worn glass.

The man was dead.

This was not enough for the hanyou, and he set out, his footsteps quick and nimble. He could smell the meat that lay just beyond the horizon, tempting him with its untainted brilliance. He moved forward, a magnet, drawn by reasons he could not comprehend. To kill was happiness, and happiness was to kill. There was no thought, no method in his way. He just wanted to feel those organs against his claws as they burst under his touch.

He wanted to become death itself, for death itself would soon become him.

There was no Kikyou now. There was no war. Sesshoumaru did not exist in his eye, the swords, Naraku, Kagome, the world. There was nothing but this urge to kill.

And he obeyed with vengeance…

The soldiers were asleep in their mountain-top cave, and a death already surrounded them.

Inuyasha moved closer, his eyes alit, his teeth gleaming in the weak light of day, his fingers dripping red with blood. Silently, he moved softly into the cave.

***

It was dark by the time she arrived at the place. She had been confident that she had found the correct place as she had seen in her vision, yet Kikyou was uncertain and hesitant. She could not sense Inuyasha's presence anywhere in the vicinity. Fear clung to her heart; perhaps he was dead, and whisked away to be tortures in the dark dank recesses of some unknown fortress.

Where was he?

The wind seemed abnormally warm, considering the weather that the world had suffered today. Yes, on this thinly clouded night, there were still sparsely veiled threats of the summer heat lingering in the air. Perhaps she had been wrong in her predictions earlier in the day; perhaps summer was not yet over, perhaps that season of ripeness had not yet collapsed.

Perhaps she had been wrong about everything.

It was possible, she mused silently to herself, standing in the deep flooded rice field, that she had misread her signs, that somehow, she did not know when or how such an action would come about. If Inuyasha was not here, then where else could he be?

Guiding her horse through the field, she sighed. Whether or not Inuyasha was alive or dead, she still had to find him. If he was alive, there were her warnings he had yet to hear. If he was dead, then he would need a proper funeral with her by his side. No, she would not cruelly leave Inuyasha alone in the darkness of the underworld. No, she may have been cold, but no, never cruel.

The wind whistled through the expanse, and through her ears, unbinding her hair and stroking it gently.

But Kikyou did not notice, she only continued towards the black hills before her, hoping to find a place to sleep for the night.

The underbrush seemed to almost part on its own as she approached it, their edges trampled and bent down as though some one had formerly walked the same route as her. But, then again, she was too tired and exhausted to notice. She needed her spirits of the dead to guide her along. Yes, there would be many now, now that the war had begun.

She was sure that much blood had been spilt today, this she discerned. If that was the only thing she knew now, that was it…

The moon had been behind a cloud for a great period of time, their rain burdened depths moving slowly, slowly, across the great vista in the darkness of the night. Perhaps, the orb had wished to hide, to not have to see the burden that the earth now carried.

But now, that silver orb had braved its fears and reemerged, glorious and shining once again…

And as it did, a tortured scream filled the night, a scream of terror, or fear, of sorrow, of sadness, or regret. It was a scream of insanity.

Grasping the horse in horror, Kikyou clung heavily onto its edges. There, sprawled before her, were…things…

She did not wish to call them bodies, for that was not what they were. There was not one intact form there, not one thing that remotely could be considered human. But human they were. Fingers were sprawled across the ground like cherry blossoms, torsos resting against the earth like old and rotten logs in which animals hid. And, yes, animals were doing so at this minute. Rats and youkai alike were scourging over the bodies, their red and blue eyes alight with a primal hunger, their teeth bared.

Yes, the battlefield was their breeding ground. It was their water hole. Anyone who dared to come too close would suffer the consequences.

The horse began to grow restless beneath her hand, and a sweat had formed like anxiety on Kikyou's brow. No matter how tired, exhausted, and worried she was, this was no place for her to be. Without giving the body parts and the animals that now hung over them like fog a second glance, she scrambled up the horse and kicked it with such a fury that it took off, even before her feet reached the thin coat of hair.

The animal swam through the sea like the great wind god itself, blessed and carried with the burden.

As the rice fields blurred into one under the silver gaze of the moon, as the hills became but boils in a stew, as the world melted and formed once again, thoughts raced though Kikyou's mind. So, there had been a massacre. And, Kikyou thought sadly, there was only one person who could inflict so much damage so quickly.

The fear still clung tight to her heart; a fox being chased.

It had been Inuyasha, blind and consumed with fear and grief and pain, yes, it had been him all along. It was he who was the murderer in this war, it was he who raped and pillaged the world from beneath her feet. In that half deranged state of his, oh, anything was possible. The stars could be mochi for plucking and he could eat their soft and chewy depths. In that blood driven time there was nothing the hanyou could not do.

There was nothing at all.

Into the dark she rode, to the side of her lover, to the side of the murderer, who still yet would prove his worth in this war.

Once again, she sped off into the wilds. She knew not where Inuyasha lay, but she had a feeling this conflict would come to a close in the place that it had begun.

Reaching the main road at last, she redirected her horse towards the road that led to her homeland, once so far away and forgotten. She rode to end this conflict of the future to where the conflict of the past was born. She rode to the shrine of the Shikon no Tama…

***

The moon hung full in the dawn hours, still low on the western horizon, still visible. Its form was not yet consumed by the blue light of the mild-mannered morning, splashed only with the occasional clouds. The scent of rain still hung on the wing, but not with the approaching viciousness that had happened the day before.

The world was still drying off, still sweeping the morbid petals off a textured coat. The world still had yet to pull itself from this bath.

Amongst the dripping world, figures stirred in the early morning mist, not yet fled into the shallows of the caves with the first touch of the sunlight. Their movements were quick and hurried, yet oddly slow and laborious.

The two silhouettes towards the front of the formation paused and looked back at those who remained. All seemed still and hushed, and even their words were muffled by the sunlight, now beginning to peak out from the ridges in the mountains.

It had been a long and difficult night for the moon high above; it had been arduous.

Those two figures in the front made their way to the group, and mingled between them, embracing at times, sharing words; conversations that the world would never know amongst the silence of the rose-colored day.

And then, as quick as foxes, or the god of the deer itself, the two sped off down the hill and into the dark murky brush that awaited them. They head down into the blood-filled valley, aware of their intentions for each knew what lay shrouded on the wing. They knew what evil they were drawn to, but such was the price of loyalty in a day and age such as these.

The figurines still remaining at the top of the hill did not move for some time, and so still did they stand that they seemed to have sprouted and grown leaves themselves, finding much more happiness here with the larks and thrushes.

But move they did at last, along the rocky ridge, slipping and falling with every step. The world did not want them to continue. Did they wish for them to follow their comrades? What did they wish for? Was there nothing?

They continued, one step after another, the mild air of the dawn calming their heated and anxious nerves. There had been no sleep last night, only walking, one foot in front of the other. Much distance had to be traveled now, for safety was beyond the clouds, beyond the horizon, and the group only knew this too well.

Kouga, the leader of the wolf clan, paused and looked behind him at the headstrong girl who was climbing over a fallen mossy log. Her cheeks were flushed with the exercise, and he soon found himself entranced with her. Never had a seen a girl so strange and odd as that; so carefree and obstinate.

It intrigued him.

"Do you need any help?" He called back, a calloused hand resting on his pelt-clad form.

The girl, her blue eyes glistening, replied sternly, "No, not from the likes of you."

The grin only grew wider across Kouga's features, and he watched her with much amusement. He would yet make this girl his. Against all odds, he swore.

A few minutes more he watched her, until she caught up with him, resting causally against a great pine tree that had been there for many years.

Looking up at him, she rubbed a bit of dirt away from her cheek and questioned, "Well? What are you standing here for?"

Kouga said nothing, but only smirked, his fangs glinting in the early morning sun.

"We are waiting for my men, and then, Lady Kagome, you shall know." Kouga explained after a moment, pulling up a blade of water-pelted grass and chewing on it half-heartedly.

The blue-eyed girl huffed in annoyance but bit her tongue and said nothing. He, Kouga, was not as stupid as she assumed. He saw how she missed Miroku and Sango already, and they had not parted but an hour ago. He saw that Sango and Miroku had held some unseen bond with the girl that he could never hope to attain. At least, not yet.

The other members of his wolf-clan finally arrived, and waiting for a moment before he began to lecture (for making everyone wait always added bits of dramatic effort that always helped. Always).

"Now that Miroku and Sango have gone on their merry ways," Kouga began, flashing a blue-eyed glare to Kagome who promptly looked away, sighing heavily as she crossed her arms. Gods, she was a feisty one. Continuing to nibble on the blade of grass, he expanded, "We need to get down off these mountains and into the valley behind so we can take the road that'll lead to Sango's place, or whatever she calls it."

The members of the wolf tribe nodded in agreement, a few of them mumbling questions and comments to one another.

"We shouldn't have any issues, really," Kouga enlightened, looking up at the sky, "Now that the storm has blown over for a while. I know a guy down at the foothill who owes me a favor. We'll just take his horses from there down into the valley. With any luck, we should be there some time tomorrow night, that is, if the weather fairs."

A wolf youkai spoke up, "I wouldn't count on that Kouga, this here is just the eye of the storm."

Spitting in the general direction of the youkai with some disdain, Kouga scoffed, "You think I didn't know that? Gods, I know more than any of you guys here. I'm just trying to put a 'pleasant light' on the matter, what, for the lady friend of ours."

All eyes turned to look at Kagome who just sighed in exasperation and commented tersely, "You didn't have to lie. I know very well that we have another front moving in. I would surmise it would be here by this afternoon or evening."

She paused, and flashed a rueful grin at Kouga who looked at her, blinking, unaware that he was blushing.

"Which means," she continued primly, "We should continue on, being that we need to get those horses soon."

The men nodded and agreed and picked up their packs which they had taken off for the time being to rest their backs. Kouga, on the other hand, glaring feverishly at Kagome, who was smiling cheerfully, snapped, "Oi, you idiots! Who do ya think is the leader of this group, eh? Me! We do what I say!"

The members of the clan looking up quickly returned to their places and apologized in unison. The boys were very well trained, so it would seem.

"That's right. Now we better be getting to those horses! Come on!" he snarled, stomping off along the worn out mountain trail once again, mud splashing up behind his seething form.

Kagome, watching him go, smiled softly. He was such a little boy. It made her happy to know that there was such innocence in the blood-shed warriors. It made her happy that she once again had found her voice, if only temporarily. Once she would return to Inuyasha's domain, she would become a chrysanthemum: stiff and still and beautiful. She would no longer be that zinnia that she wished to be…

***

It was dawn now. The second day to this war. Already, Naraku could see how beautifully his efforts were coming along. There had been several minor battles, but nothing so great, so great as to wash the world away.

The horse beneath his figure ambled along the valley floor, being lead through a dirt road now devoid of any human figures besides those that followed him, a cloak to his uniform.

To his right another horse walked, and atop it was his most treasured of all his war-time flowers. The fellow's name was Kai and had come to him some time ago and over and over again he had proven his worth. Naraku often times thought that Kai loved him, but then of course, that seemed only natural since he had watched the boy grow and mature through puberty. At first, it had been that simple raw love a child feels for their parent, but now, now with the onslaught of manhood, he could tell that something else stirred and waited in the man's depths.

In truth, Kai was hardly a man, more a creation of two worlds like his own. The boy had been human once, before he found him, but the boy was also known for having violent tantrums, often times cutting himself and those around him. The time that Naraku found him in the wood he had at first presumed a great battle had taken place. Yet when he saw the boy drowning in a pool of his own blood, and everything and everyone around him dead, well then, he had known.

Kai was a man after his own heart now.

Turning towards his companion, Naraku asked, "You know of your mission then?"

Kai, turning his deep gaze towards Naraku, nodded and replied stiffly, "Yes, I am to take this road to the rear of the mountains, and there, through the mountain trail, attack Sesshoumaru's fortress."

Kai seemed nervous, Naraku noted, but then again, this had been his first call to war. He was new and green, and that was expected of him.

"I would not be too worried if I were you, Kai. Sesshoumaru does not expect me to attack his fortress whatsoever. There should be no problems at all. And, if there should be, you have more than enough men to successfully complete his mission." Naraku continued, glancing up the rapidly changing sky. It would be morning soon, and with the onslaught of the sun, he had other places to be. Adding as an afterthought, "I made sure of that," Naraku quietly nodded to Kai before kicking up his heals to the side of his horse. In a moment the two were racing along the next bend, through the hills, in a world that had not yet awaken.

Kai watched him go, his dark eyes deep and quiet, yet his reign on his grips tightened. If he completed this mission successfully, then perhaps Naraku would take notice of him, and perhaps all his efforts would not be in vain. But 'perhaps' was as numerous as the lilies of the valley that now bloomed on the side of the road…

***

The dawn was nearly upon them now. Slowly, graspingly, as precarious as a child at play, the golden orb moved closer and closer, lighting the sky with milky hues. In the distance it was still a light wash of blue, yet it was that miraculous moment in which the sky above was pale lavender, dappled with stars like tears against a woman's cheeks.

Perhaps the stars in the heavens were tears shed, and oh, how numerous they were indeed.

The battlefield had an eerie silence, one that usually accompanied death. The crickets only chirped occasionally, as though hearing their own voice alone amongst the shadows brought fear into a heart as small as theirs.

The lord of the western lands looked about the once unblemished meadow, his golden eyes narrowed in cunning. Yes, it had been a slaughter on both sides. The blood had poured as thick and wet as the rains had earlier on in the day. And, so like the rains, the blood would return. Would there be scattered thunderstorms, or continual rain day in and day out?

Yes, thunderstorms, thought Sesshoumaru, seemed better. Although painful, and the causes of flash foods, they were also short lived. The rain, the blood, it was all the same; yet the damage was minimal.

His boot-clad foots swiftly parted their way through the body-strewn ground. Sightless eyes looked up at him blearily, already covered with flies. Some solder's mouths were open, gaping, already half-nibbled upon by the night's rats.

Yes, this was the reality.

Closing his golden depths, he sighed and whispered to himself, "So, the ruins must be our ends as well?"

At that moment the first gentle rays of butter colored sun spread across the valley and highlighting Sesshoumaru's face against the darkness that still surrounded him so desperately. His eyes, although beautiful and shining, were rimmed with a night filled with lack of sleep. His journey had been hard, a deep and troubled path through the mountain ways and across folded rivers.

But such trivialities were the cost of war.

The lord closed his eyes for a moment. In truth, he had not slept for a good 48 hours, and even for a youkai, his energy was growing thin. He could feel his patience and resilience disappearing as was the night. The air fluttered about him for a moment, and it took him but half a second to realize he was falling, falling into the death that surrounded him.

It disturbed him how comforting this idea of death felt. It disturbed him how content he had become.

It was true: Sesshoumaru, the great lord of the western lands, has grown weak and old.

He caught himself, but just in time. Stumbling a few steps, he found a nearby tree on which to support his rain and mud-trodden figure. Yes, it had been a long night for him indeed.

Sesshoumaru shrugged off any emotions and slowly and successfully, with the art of a geisha, carefully arranged his features into the ones that were known and feared. The hint of exhaustion only whispered about him, the defeat was all but non-existent. It was only the ruthless Sesshoumaru, the killing blade, the one who would strike down his enemies.

And strike down his enemies he would, whether they be Inuyasha or Naraku. If this was to end quickly, he knew that there was only one destination in which this war would cease to exist. To end the started, one had to return to the beginnings. And, deep in the back of his mind, Sesshoumaru knew where his destiny lay. He knew that those long forgotten temple bells, now covered in secret, were the key to this war.

Whatever magic there might be hidden in the heart of man or woman, it would be found at the tori of shrine of the Shikon no Tama.

There was nothing else left today, but ride another day without rest. The war had to end. It was his ultimatum against the coming tide.

Making his way back towards his horse and the survivors of the battle, he heard a strangled cry amongst the wreckage. So, someone has deceived fate, it seemed.

Arduously, Sesshoumaru crept over the piles of body until he found a pair of deep eyes looking up at him through the web of bodies.

"Can you move?" Sesshoumaru found himself asking, almost coldly, at the young man.

It surprised him when the being smirked, and replied, "But you are just the person I wished to speak to."

The man, Sesshoumaru surmised, must have gone crazy in the war zone. Perhaps death would have been a better option for the youth. But, he was no player of fortunes, nor did he go against the gods.

Casting a side-long glance towards the remaining solders that were circled about a small fire, he knelt down closer, his voice conveying no emotion whatsoever, after all, he was just humoring this man who now hung in limbo, a gray place between life and death.

"Yes, yes," the voice whispered softly, "You are Sesshoumaru, the lord of the western lands."

Sesshoumaru made no reply. It was obvious who he was, and there was no need to waste words when they were not needed. Unconsciously, he found himself leaning towards the man, a bit of stubble apparent on his study features. He was buried beneath another male, and mud had dried all about him. A mummy perhaps, sinking to his grave.

Yet the youth, whoever he was, did not seem to give up without a fight. Yes, death was but an adversary, something he would eventually succumb to, but not now, not now.

"Take me with you," the voice came again, stronger this time, revealing a deep rich tone, classically trained. No, this was no ordinary solider that now fell amid the crashing waves of feudal war.

The man seemed to realize how crazy his idea sounded, and added hurriedly, though he winced slightly, "I will explain later. We are friends, I swear to you on all that I hold dear."

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rose. Had he not been affected by the likes of love, he would have cast aside this deranged one at that moment. Yet something in those brown eyes called out to him, a plea; as though there was some unfinished work somewhere that had to be completed. No, the man was determined not to die.

And for this, whoever the stranger was, he had gained Sesshoumaru's respect.

Aware of the risk he was taking, aware that this man could be lying, and could easily attack him at any moment, Sesshoumaru knelt down and began to lift the dead body from off the man. As he did so, his thin lips pursed in curiosity, "You give grand promises. I only hope that you can keep your word."

The man coughed slightly, blood rupturing from his lips. He had attempted to laugh, and that had proved dangerous.

"Can you stand?" Sesshoumaru asked, looking at the sprawled figure beneath him. Now that the dead body had been dealt with, Sesshoumaru admitted that he was surprised to find the man in the clothes of a traveler. This was no solider at all. He was but a bird captured in a cage that was not meant for him, and he, Sesshoumaru, had gone and opened the door.

The man attempted to get up, but only managed half way before demanding assistance from Sesshoumaru.

As he helped the man stumble along, Sesshoumaru sighed to himself. Perhaps he was a man of war no longer. No, he was sure that the time of his youth was over and done. The blood that once so famously flowed from his sword had grown dry, and nearly down to a trickle, threatening to disappear for ever.

Looking towards the man, Sesshoumaru realized for the first time that he was vaguely acquainted with the person's looks. Yes, it had not been but two days since last they had seen each other, standing atop that foggy mountainside.

It was this man that had taken Kagome away.

"I know you," Sesshoumaru replied curtly, stiffening slightly as he stopped walking, unsure if he should trust him. "It was you who came to take Kagome away, not but two days ago."

The man glanced at him, his face smeared in mud, his eyes giving away too many of the world's grievances. A smile bloomed amid the wreckage of war, and he replied, "Indeed you do sir; I was wondering how long it would take you."

Sesshoumaru scowled and spat, "I meet many people throughout my life. You obviously did not make much of an impact with me or I would have recognized you immediately."

Miroku chuckled, and continued to be guided by the bitter youkai lord, who was now quiet, his eyes troubled.

Finally, Sesshoumaru asked the question Miroku had been waiting for through this entire escapade, "But if you are here, then where is she?"

Miroku coughed slightly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "Lady Kagome, I presume? We separated on the mountain. She is finding safety, but I find that duty and honor call me back to my lord's side."

"That is very honorable of you," Sesshoumaru nodded curtly, "If not foolish. Yet you do realize that we are enemies. I could easily kill you now."

Miroku stumbling slightly cursed and then chortled, "I do not think we are as great as enemies of you perceive."

Sesshoumaru clicked his tongue and spat, "Maybe so."

The two continued to hobble across the battlefield, over the fallen graves of men, armor and trampled weeds. Yet, at last, the two reached Sesshoumaru's horses, and a servant attending to Miroku scuttled him away.

Sesshoumaru, his eyes stormy, called after, "What was your name again?"

"It is Miroku," the wind said, picking up the man's words as he collapsed onto a table.

It was not as though it was a common name, even in this day and age, yet both were aware of the weight that this title held. Yet the image and the knowledge behind those three hiragana characters would not emerge.

Perhaps it was better this way, Sesshoumaru thought enigmatically, looking up into the sky, and finding that day had broken.

Perhaps war was meant for mysteries.

Finding that he liked this notion, he allowed his thoughts to drift high above to the clouds, to places much more comforting and filled with that everlasting blue.

****

***

AN: So! There you have it! Chapter 31. Hopefully you guys liked it. Sorry it took so long to come out…^^;;

As usual, read, review, say "Yuu!"