AN: In the anime/manga the jewel is somewhere else, but I took artistic license and changed the location. Sorry for any confusion. ALSO I have completed the story and it is 36 afterward chapters long (37) so, expect the updates, hopefully soon. Sankyuu.
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Chapter 35
Against the Storm
The wind was strong now that the rain had stopped. Earth-shaking gusts swept down the mountains in such a great force that many of the men stumbled half heartedly through the upland meadow. The grasses swayed and thrashed against the figures' feet, and even the well-worn path became nearly invisible through the swirl and froth of the muted yellow and grayed green of autumn grasses.
Despite the clouds having ceased their torment of rain momentarily, their forms were still dark and ominous and sailed across the sky. The strong northern winds from Hokkaido were pounding down upon them all with the coolness from that snow-bound area.
Kouga and his men had made good time through the rocky terrain so far, although when the rains had begun in mountainous torrents it slowed them down greatly. Yet, the fact remained that they were out of harm's way in a remote sector of the mountains that would provide them safety until they reached Sango's fortress some ten miles off the famed Seikoku road.
Nevertheless the walk was tiring and it drained them, most particularly Kagome whose breathing was labored as though something else was troubling her amidst the din. Although Kouga had inquired about her health several times and insist that she ride a horse for her own benefit on this relatively flat terrain, the lady of the court had insisted to walk on foot explaining that it stabilized her.
"I'm truly alright. I don't know what is wrong but I'm sure it will pass." She had called over to him, her words practically consumed by the wind that surrounded the men and the horses high above the earth, an eagle surveying its territory.
From their post, as they continued across the alpine meadow spotted with dying blue cornflowers, Lake Okoni could be seen covered in a thick layer of fog and mist that the lower lands provided it. The surface of the water looked flat and expressionless, even with hints of white appearing like the lilies of March upon its surface. The scene itself was as surreal and beautiful as a wood-block painting one found in the streets of Kyoto—a scene of such unexpected brilliance that it seemed to almost imprint itself against the soul: the black tumultuous clouds above, the yellowed grass, and the flat lake.
From far away everything was calm and distant; a picture one could look at and feel emotion for, but never truly accept as part of their life.
"The wind is really something," Kouga had commented to Kagome at one point in time when they had been walking side by side through the torrent of weeds that slapped painfully at their legs, causing them to grow slightly red.
"Yes, it's astounding. I've never seen weather like this." The lady had commented, although with weariness in her voice. It was obvious the girl was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Yet still much remained to their journey, supposed Kouga, a few more chapters needed to be added to their story and his short, if not cherished, adventure with the girl.
What and why he had agreed to partake on this return journey was beyond him. He was taking Kagome back to the world of men, the world of blood and crime, protestation and rape—of unhappiness. A life she could have so easily escaped from, with his aid, no less, he had insisted he return Kagome to her shelf—where, from her reign she would deem the course and happiness of her life.
But it was of no matter allowing thoughts on this subject—it was as fleeting as the frost covered buds of an apple tree; they would bear no fruit.
It was nearly two now thought Kouga, judging by his internal clock. He had called the men to stop for lunch and some rest while they could before the rain set in again, prohibiting both feast and slumber. By the speed of the clouds and the direction of the wind, Kouga estimated another hour to two before the perpetual precipitation continued to befall them once again.
And so, the group had camped underneath a small wind-blown pine tree that provided some protection to the sudden gusts. Their attempt to start a fire was as desperate as an animal swimming against a tide, only to consume them. There was no need to fight against the tide; however, there was no need to fight against the world. Like the tree the party now huddled beneath, oftentimes it was just best to bend to the howling winds and the forces of nature.
Separating herself from the group beneath the cragged bows, Kagome excused herself under the pretense that she would go in look for dry fire-wood, a rare commodity amongst the rain engorged lands. All the men, except for Kouga, wished her off but only under the pretense she would return soon. Kagome promised this readily, although it was possible to discern the beads of sweat forming on her brow—the pain of her unusual condition had yet to dissipate.
It was an unusual sensation, not necessarily painful, Kagome noted as she placed one foot in front of the other, her head bent against the galls of wind. It did not hurt, but for some reason she sweated. It was as though her body was in two places at once or the sensation before one fainted—however she had been feeling in such a way for some time now and she had yet to collapse. And so, she conjectured to herself, there had to be other reasons related to her sickness. If anything, the fresh mountain air was doing her good and cooling her heated nerves.
Venturing towards the crest of the hill, Kagome put one foot in front of the other and climbed to the crown, her breath labored and her eyes dim and dull like sea-glass. She needed sleep and comfort—but no such thing would be granted to her at this time. One foot in front of the other she climbed, an object lost amongst the high tide of war—the end, like the crest, unbearably steep but so close.
The wind pulled, tugged, ripped at her clothes; nevertheless she persevered in her until finally she had reached the vista.
The scene was heartbreakingly beautiful and her blue eyes scanned over the horizon in astonishment. She opened her mouth, but a moment later she felt the world fall away and the next moment she was aware of a flash of colors and light and a strong sensation as though she was being tugged round the middle to some point unknown.
A second later, the crest of the hill was bare, only ornamented with the remaining cornflowers and blades of grass, wiping about in the loneliness for the girl who had once stood on their banks.
It was shock. Pure and utter shock when he saw Kagome Higurashi appear in a flash of light before him. Coiled around the girl was glowing thread, like that in legend—only not for the purpose of love, no indeed, but of that of revenge, more dangerous than any other emotion. An emotion that could bring a respectable person to the edge of his sanity and back again, playing with their mind in ways the world had not known or thought possible. And so, there, sprawled in the mud, her skin nearly translucent, her breathing heavy, did she lay.
Sesshoumaru was speechless, whether this was brought upon by his wounds that continued to grow more serious moment by moment, or for the utter amazement of not only the extension of Naraku's powers, he could not say.
From above where the rain continued to perpetually fall came a voice, a deep dark voice that embodied the epitome of evil in Sesshoumaru's mind; that of Naraku, loftily seated in his pine tree, his robes like that of the narcissus draping about him.
"The time has come," it whispered darkly, deceivingly, and knowingly.
The figure sprawled in the mud stirred and gasped for breath. Kagome had been revived and Sesshoumaru, though never a believer in the god's themselves, silently whispered a prayer that the girl had not been seriously harmed. That was, of course, not seriously harmed yet. Before this perverse play of Naraku's finished who amongst them would be standing among the wreckage and burden of war? Sesshoumaru supposed silently to himself, not many, not many indeed.
"What do you mean?" The figure of Kagome whispered from the pools of mud. She was slowly beginning to pull herself from the earth, emerging, if not dirty and soiled, alive nonetheless. Her voice was weak and rasping, like that of a person who was suffering from a severe flu and her cheeks had the coloring of a doll, rosy and unhealthy.
"I mean, dear lady, that all the pieces are in order and the time has come for this play of mine to finally draw to a close. It has grown boring and irksome, nonetheless, and I wish to finish it as quickly as possible."
Sesshoumaru eyed Kagome apprehensively; the girl had still yet to notice his presence some twenty feet away near the fallen body of Inuyasha's advisor, Miroku. The advisor, although still alive, had yet to recover from his blow from Naraku—after all, unlike himself and his half-brother, Miroku was just a common human. Perhaps, perhaps in the beginning Sesshoumaru would have proposed Kagome to be as common as a mere peasant, but it had struck the youkai lord some time ago that there was no way that Kagome could be so plain. If there was nothing special within her then what was the reason that Naraku had wished to possess her body as ardently as he had on that hazy summer day?
Sesshoumaru had a feeling that very soon he would discover.
Inuyasha spoke up now, still clutching Kikyou, who seemed to have fainted, in his arms, "What do you plan to do?"
Naraku, from high above in his perch, smirked absently and ran a finger underneath his lips, "Oh, nothing much in particular."
However it was apparent in his eyes, as apparent as the storm, as the coming of winter—apparent as the death of them all. It was unavoidable, like the sensation of pain, the formation of tears, there was nothing anyone could do against such a fiend. That was alterable, Sesshoumaru conjectured absently to himself, wishing that he hadn't been wounded so badly, someone did something about the situation. What little strength Sesshoumaru did have, he was holding onto in a greedy and stealthy manner so that when the opportunity presented itself he would be as prepared as the farmers for the rush of the spring rains.
"Then why are we here?" Kagome whispered, leaning against a tree, her voice barely audible among the crash of trees and the splatter of rain.
Naraku smirked once again, deeper this time. At length he rose and calmly stepped off the tree as though there was something solid beneath his feet. However, he crashed to the earth with such speed and force that it would have killed a normal man. Yet, landing on his feet in the flutter of purples, he paused only for a moment before looking up directly in Sesshoumaru's line of vision and grinning like the mad-man he was.
Before Sesshoumaru could understand the meaning to the expression, it was already too late. Kagome was already pinned against a tree with the red string-like substance that hung about her body like chains of old.
"I plan to get what I have searched for the past eighteen years."
For the first time since Kagome's entrance among the shrine's protective pillars, Kaede whispered from the backdrop, "Then you mean the Shikon no Tama?"
Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rose in questioning and absently he cast a worried glance towards Inuyasha who looked as disturbed as himself. The Shikon no Tama, but that was just an object of legend. Surely it could not be real. Indubitably the jewel had been a myth for all those many years? Its origin was clouded in mist as was its powers. Why would Naraku have spent so much time and energy in such a fruitless object? It made no sense whatsoever.
Then again, had anything for the past hour made any sense? It was Naraku, Sesshoumaru had to continually remind himself—nothing was as it seemed, nothing had ever been as it seemed, least of all the bastard who now stood before him.
Yet the Shikon no Tama…that was just a myth, surely…
What happened in the next few minutes would prove any such hope he once possessed to be horribly and utterly wrong.
As soon as the girl had come Kikyou could feel her life draining. For the past several hours she had been aware of the sensation slowly and gradually pulling at her body in a way she only dimly remembered from the heated days of summer that seemed to her a blur of emotions. Yet now, amongst the wet and wild, being held preciously by Inuyasha in strong, yet shaky arms, she knew that Naraku's plans would soon come to pass.
In truth, Kikyou had arrived too late to tell Inuyasha. She could hardly speak, even now, and her body would not move, despite her best intentions.
The truth, like the storm, was raining down upon her clay body—that soon, if a decision was not reached, she would melt into the mud beneath her. Now that there was no distance between her and this girl, Kagome, their hearts had begun the battle of control, the inevitable battle that had been foreordained from her first breath. The truth, the painful truth, that between the two girls only one could technically survive—and Kagome being the more likely of the two. Kikyou, as she knew, was just a collection of spirits and mud, fathomed together to make a person: it was only with the soul, the soul that she had been sharing with Kagome for the past months that she was allowed to survive and act the part of the human being. It has puzzled Kikyou at first why Kagome should have the stamina to live with only half a soul, but finally, somewhere in the recesses of her mind Kikyou had realized the cause. The fact was that Kagome, within her body, held the jewel of the famed Shikon no Tama, a device that could keep even the dead breathing.
And soon, when Naraku wrenched it from the dark, warm, encasings that it had been hidden for so long, she, Kikyou would fall, and, no doubt, Kagome. A choice had to be made: a painful, bitterly cruel choice.
Who would live?
Yet, Kikyou thought hurriedly, in frantic, meticulous nature—she, herself, was a still a priestess in her own right, even if she had been summoned from beyond her grave. Within her body still tingled the magic and power, faint, but evident; and with the included power of her sister, perhaps, perhaps, something could be done to help the dire situation.
But it had to be fast—deadly fast. There was no time for error, for fear. What she would do, she would do in full faith of herself and her powers and would accept any regrets that accompanied her decision.
The fact remained that she was too weak to do anything. Even with her sister's guiding presence nearby—Kagome, whether unconsciously or not, was silently battling in possession for her soul. In addition, as soon as the Shikon no Tama was wrenched from the blue-eyed girl, Kikyou knew that she would fall dead to the ground. As long as Kagome kept the jewel, as long as she continued to touch it…
It was painful enough to open her eyes, let alone look at her sister. She had to communicate her intention somehow, somehow, without words, and only looks. Priestesses may have been extraordinarily powerful, but not so great as to have the gift of telekinesis.
Kikyou blinked, her vision slowly falling into focus.
There stood her sister, Kaede. For the first time, Kikyou stared openly—realizing that this might be the last time she would ever see her grown up sibling ever again. It was amazing how time had worked away its ways upon on Kaede—the young, innocent and gangly girl had grown into herself, blossoming and maturing in ways Kikyou had not thought possible. In addition, there was strength in her form, in her features—a resilience that could stand against the slings and arrows of time. A shield, a shield that even Kikyou could not break through even if she tried with all her might.
But the eyes were the key to her sister, this she knew. In strength, emotion, and communication; the eyes were the key. And so, titling her head, ever slightly, mindful of Naraku's monologue humming distantly in her ears, she attempted to silently catch her sister's eyes. Like a fish caught in a net she would have to entrap the gaze so that there could be no mistaking her meaning.
There was no point to this action, though.
Those strong eyes were already trained upon her form.
Now, Kikyou thought darkly, came the hard part—to communicate, somehow, that the jewel must not leave the presence of Kagome. It had to be caged, just for a few moments longer, within her grasp.
Yet these thoughts were easily lost in translation amongst the wetness, and almost as soon as the hope has flared it fell to the ground and dissolved. There could be no way to communicate without words, or without moving her body. No, what would happen now and in the following would remain in the God's hand and those who should see fit to intervene.
Looking away from the painful scene, Kikyou's eyes fell dejectedly to the undulating ferns on whose boughs millions of droplets hung in peril. Like a small world they hung on the brink of heaven and hell at the same moment as she. Would the wind carry these droplets away or allow them to continue on in their humble way?
But what was this…? Kikyou thought dimly to herself, blinking away her unshed tears, what was hope when there was none in the first place?
It was ironic that as Kikyou, the former priestess, thought these thoughts, a shapeless shadowy form swiftly crouched among those same ferns, the microcosms in their own right. The figure moved, the drops fell, but to a better place than the silent limbo.
It was up to her she realized. No one else knew the bastard's plans. No one else knew what to do. There was no hope. It was up to her. She had to call upon the most desperate measures, something that she had never supposed she would be forced to draw upon.
Kaede cast an anxious glance over her shoulder, mentally frowning even more. Miroku was still unconscious in the rain, his open wound beginning to bleed again, so it would seem. There was nothing she could do, not at this moment.
I can save everyone, damn it, the young priestess thought to herself, finding emotions well up in her throat dangerously. She could only help so many people at one time.
And now that Kagome had entered, now that she was here—and now that Naraku had her right where he had wanted her from the beginning, now that everyone was assembled with no hope of winning—Kaede knew that there was no other option.
Silently, she slipped her hand and reached for her quiver—and for that one arrow: the one that never in her wildest dreams would have never contemplated her using it. Yet, as usual, her husband had been correct in the end.
Grinning ruefully to herself, Kaede listened hungrily to spiteful Naraku's words, waiting in agitation as she fingered the smooth arrow absentmindedly for the just the right moment in which to unleash the power of the both gifted and accursed arrow.
"Yes, I suppose you could say so, couldn't you?" Naraku smirked absently to himself, leaving against the trunk of the tree onto which Kagome was bound. His hands began to rove about her body as he talked and these actions did not go unnoticed by more than one party.
"Why didn't you just get it when you had the chance all those years ago?" Kaede continued, moving half her body out of Naraku's line of vision to successfully hide the presence of the arrow behind the folds in her clothes, "It would have been so easy. There was no point in the senseless killing."
The figure cloaked in purple chuckled absently, withdrawing from the pitch black depths of his garments coated in silver streaks of rain. It was a new blade, unspoiled like the burgundy sword he had formerly carried in his lust. This one was a plain silver blade that managed to surpass the former both in its shine and sharpness.
"I never liked to share my toys. I would have thought you would have figured that out by now, dear Kaede. You have, after all, made the study of me for quite some time now, have you not? I find it amusing that you, yourself, did not do more in your power to stop me throughout the years—not that you would have been able to, of course. But it would have been diverting."
"Killing the innocent has never been enjoyable, Naraku."
"Perhaps not for you. I on the other hand…"
Naraku turned away from the spectators now, an unwise thing to do for anyone—but then again, Naraku knew instinctively that no one would dare raise a sword to him. No, he was too powerful, he could kill them all if he so wished. Ah, but that would be too simple, and after all, he had been looking forward to this for the past eighteen years, had he not?
Stepping forward, his hands falling away from Kagome's form which, he noted, looked very appealing at the moment—he hadn't, after all, had any form of pleasure for a few days now and his patience was growing thin and his desire was mounting.
Well, he supposed, the fun would come later, after he took the jewel.
And so, sparing no time, he gingerly began to strip Kagome. It was not his intention to reveal her entire body nude to the world, although that would have been a very nice sight. It was cumbersome as well, with her hands strung in the tree with his web. No, all he wished to get at was her left leg, more specifically her lower calf.
That was where, legend said, the jewel would lie, should it ever become encased and entrapped within a human body.
And after all, Kagome was the reincarnation of Kikyou, was she not? Who else could it be? Their similarities in physical appearance and stature, not to mention Kikyou had perchance to die the same day that Kagome was born…yes, there was no other way to explain it. In addition, the truth had already been proven on that day—so long ago, it seemed—when Kikyou had returned to him from the grave…and the moments when he had called upon the strength of Kagome's soul to sustain Kikyou's. Any normal girl would have died, or ensured the soul remain within the body…but Kagome had the power of the Shikon no Tama to sustain what left of her soul she had.
The question, Naraku supposed idly to himself, testing the blade on a large stalk of bamboo nearby, would be the question—who would live? Well, Naraku supposed, no doubt Kagome would. Her body would reclaim her soul and she would be become one again, would she not? And what of Kikyou? She would die of course.
Yet Naraku could bring her back any time he wished. It was true. He had that power. Yet that was another story entirely, wasn't it? His plans of tomorrow would be saved for later, put on the shelf, and allowed to stew. It was today's plans that were ripe and at their peak.
A day later and this brew would be forever tasteless and spoiled.
And so, bending down in one rapid and fluid, Naraku's eyes reflecting the gleam of Kagome's pale skin in the light, he raised the blade and struck down with just enough effort to open the skin, not tear it apart.
The blood and red splattered forth, as heavy and profuse as the rain itself, covering the two figure's feat and staining them. Kagome, surprisingly made no noise but bit her lips in utter pain and the tears were lost in the wetness.
The onlookers however we shocked and stunned as Naraku, only glancing half heartedly at the sea of blood he was soon becoming drenched in, gently brought his fingers to the raw flesh and withdrew from the depths a spherical object, covered in liquid and dripping in blood.
This time a scream pierced through the glen, a scream of agony and utter pain…and a moment later, only barley conscious, Kagome fell limp against the bindings.
Now…! Thought Kaede to herself, stringing the arrow, only half aware that her sister had plunged to the ground in a similar state as Miroku, unconscious and barely alive, now, you must do it now! Now! Now!
And still, she did not release. It was not the time. There was something still yet to come, she could feel it now in the air. Yet it had to happen soon….it had to.
"Ah….," Naraku whispered in silent glee, his eyes fixated onto the object that was beginning to resonate pinkish light in his clawed hands, the coagulated blood slowly falling away from his palms into puddles. "Yes, it is just as I thought…just as I thought…"
There was a flash of movement; an arrow that pierced the fragile tissue-paper balloon world in which the people had fallen prey to.
Kaede released the arrow as well in astonishment and surprise, its path varied and full of peril as it traveled through the rain.
The projectile moved and came so suddenly that it was there and gone and its damage done before anyone had realized what had happened. Sesshoumaru had been too preoccupied to notice anyone else but Kagome; and the fact that she was gushing blood like a fountain—and even though the wound itself would heal under the gaze of gentle time, even though she was not in mortal danger, Sesshoumaru's blood curdled, so much so that he angrily unsheathed his remaining sword that had been at his side. The piece of metal was not in particularly special—a mere blade like that the men of his armies used. Nevertheless, it was always good to have a second option, especially in times of war.
Inuyasha, on the other hand, had heard the sound before he saw the great flying object in a blink of an eye. Still, it was not the actual object he saw or even heard, but the mere after affects. The sound of slicing air, the cry of pain, the splash of an object, the fall of a body, the rain, a flash of light and the arrow piercing what silence was left.
A moment later, Kagome was no more and the Shikon no Tama was no where to be found.
It surprised her, no, more so than that, it was baffling that her presence had gone unnoticed for much of the time. During the entire duration of the episode while she had been crouched amongst the swaying sea of ferns, she had gone unnoticed, undetected, and uncared for. At first, when Sesshoumaru had initially arrived he had cast a wary eye in her direction and Sango had nearly contemplated emerging forth from the bushes to greet Miroku, especially when she had noticed the limp in his walk and the pale color to his tone. He was not well, and it would be some time before she would learn the truth as to how he had received such wounds. Something held her back, however, an emotion she could not particularly describe. The two had promised to meet at the shrine of the Shikon no Tama, had they not? Yet, as she watched the action unfold she soon realized that her silent presence might be needed in the near future, that was presuming she went undetected when Naraku should arrive.
He would arrive, of course. Why else would the war and its actions pivot around this one central location? No doubt, like the mist in the night, Naraku would sneak stealthily and silently upon the suspects and begin his attack in underhanded means.
It was for this reason, no, for those reasons, that she had to wait like a protective statue found on country roads, unmoving, unblinking, and waiting for her time to come alive. She would be covered with moss and a part of the environment before it was all said and done with.
And so she waited. And she saw it all. She saw the two lord's battle—clutching a bow and arrow she had pilfered from a fallen solider closer to her breast, she attempted, however unsuccessfully, to silence her rapidly beating heart, trying to look away, hiding the tears in her eyes from even herself.
Sango saw Naraku materialize, she saw the truthful words that both the Lord Sesshoumaru and the strange miko spoke be cut from the mouth of the innocent like a pointless decapitating—and still, she waited amid the trembling ferns, biding her time. Those fleeting moments of harsh words and muted chuckled were not the time to reveal herself.
Even when Miroku fell to the ground unconscious, a scream muffled within the very depths of her soul, she did not move. The crucial moment was becoming closer and closer by the moment, she could feel it in the air, see it in the fear of the onlooker's eyes, and feel the trembling in her heart.
Yes, very soon the phase would become complete in itself. The moon would finally be ripe for the viewing, without any shadows or secrets upon its surface.
And so, with her breath in her throat, it was not but a few seconds ago that she realized that the moment itself had come. She could not quite explain how she knew this information, for the actions taking place confused even her. Yet when the blade crashed down upon the Lady Kagome and her blood splattered onto the lacy rain trodden branches that surrounded her protectively, she knew.
The time had come. There was no time like the present to rise to the challenges of fate.
So, striking the bow and arrow, an instrument she was much accustomed to from years of youkai extermination training, she pulled it taught. The target Naraku was not moving much, nearly oscillating silently as he continued his muted tirade.
She pulled back further, aiming at the hand in which a bloodied object had begun to glow. So, that thing there had to be the jewel, no less. The object seemed to be pulsating within the creatures refined hand was the legend after which this whole war had been based upon. How many countless lives had been slaughtered for that object? Well, that was the power of the jewel, wasn't it; the fact that the jewel and its wishes had the power over men to cause bloodshed, murder, betrayal and revenge.
It must come to an end, Sango whispered desperately. It must.
And so the arrow was released from the bow.
Its path was true. But then again, Sango was never one to tamper with fate.
As she watched its path she saw the pointed metal pierce into Naraku's outstretched hand, the body almost taunting the arrow as it blockaded the illusive pathway into destinations unknown. Sango watched as the blood shot forth from the severed member in a torrent of angry frustration. She saw the jewel fall to the ground, its red coverings falling away in the inundation of precipitation from the heavens.
The priestess had released her taut bow, and a second later a second arrow pierced the confusion. Its target turned came to be the rim of the tree onto which Kagome was bound with Naraku's idle strings. Those same strings now fell away to the ground, still emitting a light color even as they slowly sunk into the depths of the puddles.
What came next remained a mystery to one such as Sango, and everyone else beside Kagome.
Kagome was never quite sure what happened in those few strangled moments between time and space, between fate and destiny. She would never, for the rest of her days, know what happened in those seconds that followed; for they happened in almost a blink of an eye in such unconscious movements that reenacting them would be impossible.
The arrow had been the catalyst of the situation, streaming through the secluded scene in a fiery anger in such a strong shot it could have easily dismembered an animal or person. Such was the force and intensity behind that weapon. As it was, the only obstacle was Naraku's outstretched hand in which lay the most treasured and feared object; the Shikon no Tama. Needless to say the arrow cut through the flesh as though it was sailing air, leaving in its wake a rainbow of purple and blue colored blood that fell to the rain-engorged ground in great waves, which were accompanied by curdling shrieks of pain.
The arrow landed somewhere off in the distant grey-green world, to be discovered by young villagers a few days later, lodged fiercely into the trunk of a red pine tree.
Kaede, whether out of instinct, fear, or premonition, released her arrow which for some time she had been holding steady in her taught bow, only the carefully applied pressure of her fingers holding back the raging energy.
And release it she did. It flew straight towards Kagome's taut form only missing her scalp by the breadth of a sparrow. With the force of the arrow, magically blessed by priests and priestesses in their own right throughout the many years of her wandering life, it proved strong enough to break through the bonds of even the most foulest of creatures, namely Naraku.
The glowing binds fell away towards the sopping ground, and with them the figure of a mentally, and physically bruised Kagome. She landed on her knees, her hands out before her, coated in the blood of her enemy. Yet, although she was badly bruised, within her still remained a fight that could bear the battlefield and all it's ways. Her blue eyes looked up into the tortured form of Naraku, noticing mutely his discarded hand that lay several feet away.
Whatever compelled her to do it, she did not know. It was as though something within her was calling, yelling, screeching for her to take it. She needed it. She needed the jewel. It was what made her, it was what would bring her happiness, and it was what would end all this madness.
If there was anything she knew at that moment in time it was that the key to happiness, the key to life itself, resided in this strange object that now glowed ever so slightly off in a puddle, half submerged in murky water.
So, reaching out, against all the pain that wracked her tired body, she felt her fingers curl around the strangely cold object, and then—
"I see you have arrived at last, Kagome," a quiet voice behind her greeted with all the familiarity of a snow flake in deep summer. Everything was completely foreign. Her body still tingled slightly from a sensation she couldn't quite describe, but in the back of her mind she knew that somehow she had been pulled from that wet and wild scene amidst the thrashing ferns to a new and very foreign place indeed.
Namely, there was sun: a golden sun, with light the color of barley tea. It burnished down on her, warming her body although the air itself was cold like that of an autumn afternoon. That was the first thing she noticed about the place in which she now found herself in: the sun, the glorious sun.
"We haven't much time." The voice from behind her urged in a deathly haste, with scared undertones that she would soon learn the meanings to.
Nevertheless, she was weak, tired—and more so than that confused. Where was she? Blinking and turning her head about, still clutching the Shikon no Tama in her hands, she drunk in her surroundings: inky hills on either side, the fresh valley down gracing her feet, and the golden sun hanging like an ornament just across the horizon.
It seemed a foreign world; for so long she had known only the likes of grayness and wet. For so long there had only been the wind in her ears and not the sound of the evening nightingales that she heard now trickling in her ears.
"Where am I?" She finally managed, blinking back tears from the sun.
"You are at the temple. The time has come for us to end this entire affair." The voice explained, growing closer and it's form becoming level with her now as they stared down at the silent and calm world below. It was all an allusion of course, this peace, this world: life was nearly one transient from one point to another. Yet this was beside the point.
For the first moment in many, many days, Kagome had found peace. There was no pain. Even her exhaustion had managed to slowly trickle away, like the residue from a bad winter storm.
So, looking at last from whence the voice was coming, she questioned, "Who are you?"
The man, who had been enjoying the view of the valley spread beneath them as well, glanced towards her, hiding his fine profile and jaw line, revealing dark deep-set eyes that seemed to hold all the answers to the mysteries of the world.
"I'm Hiroyoshi, Kaede's husband."
Kaede…wasn't she Kikyou's sister? The other miko at the shrine? Yes, that had to have been her. But how did I end up here of all places? What happened? Wasn't I just at the shrine of the—
"I didn't expect you, at all. But now that you are here, it makes sense. The jewel has sent you to the next safest place, after its maiden shrine, of course: the shrine that holds the blood between the two sisters."
He said this all naturally as though Kagome actually knew what he was referring to, as though she knew of the role she was destined to play, as though she knew of her place among the stars.
Yet at the moment it was all a mystery one that she was desperately attempting to sort out of her own will. What was she to do? Why was she here? What was her role? She tried to demonstrate her confusion but not seem incompetent nonetheless, and inquired rather nervously, "The blood bond? But how did I manage to get here? Not a moment ago I was at the Shrine of the Shikon no Tama."
"I myself am still confused as to that as well. Yet the fact remains that you are here, and with only one purpose in mind as far as I can see."
Off in the distance there was a caw of a raven, almost a sign that soon danger would be upon Kagome again, like wolves biting at her feet there was nothing she could do but outrun the demons themselves.
"Purpose? But what can I do? Especially—," Kagome held up the jewel, almost blinding for it shone with such intensity, for the man to notice, "With this? I don't know how to use it. I am neither a shrine priestess nor anyone who has been trained in the arts."
Anxiety and uneasiness raged with her. How could she be expected to do anything? She may have had an inkling of some training of a shrine miko, but when it actually meant calling upon forces of the super natural she was as innocent as a newborn.
"That is beside the point. Even though you may not have had your powers refined through training they still exist in the raw, and we must use them. Don't think that you have crossed time and space that Naraku doesn't have control over you. He is more powerful than us all, perhaps, given the right circumstances."
"What can I do? What am I supposed to do? I don't know anything that is going on. How is it that this thing was inside me?"
"Now is not the time for those questions—they must come later once this has all been settled." His words were said with such strength, such dismal and burdened strength that they knocked what energy and adrenaline had begun to accumulate within her.
"But what can I do?" Kagome repeated, more urgently this time, more despairing, "I don't know how."
"You must use the jewel for what it was created for—the object itself is both good and evil. Only priestesses, or those with the power, can keep the jewel pure. You have to use it for its purpose." Hiroyoshi moved towards her now, his dark eyes hard and emotionless. Grabbing her arm in a firm grip, though not hard enough to startle her, he looked down at her and waited for her reply.
His eyes were hard and cold, they way Sesshoumaru's had been when she had first met him those many moons ago. And still, she could resist the strength, if anything, Sesshoumaru had made her stronger, and not so obstinate. If she should fail this task, what of the people who were relying on her? For their sakes alone she had to be sure of her task. Still, Hiroyoshi continued now, urgently, against the sands of time, blinding his eyes, "You must wish for what you most desire…even if it forsakes yourself and others, for they say that the priestess of the jewel will have the most control in extending and maintaining the positive and negative energy with which it was originally created."
"B-but I couldn't even begin to know where to start, I—," Kagome continued feebly, finding herself drowning in her own emotions that seemed to have collapsed atop her. The tears of exhaustion and resentment began to prick at her eyes.
"Kagome, you must."
There was her answer. Those three words decided her fate. Even she was not one to go against such a plea. Not when all was at stake.
Not when all was at stake.
Naraku had fallen and stumbled when the arrow struck his hand, and when that had happened the blood poured forth with such disarray that for a few moments the sky seemed to have been cast in violent purple shades. It was not natural that this amount of blood should erupt from a person, but then again, Sesshoumaru thought absently to himself as he clutched his sword, Naraku was not a person, no, none in the least.
"How foolish I have been….," Naraku whispered off-handedly, his head down turned as though the rain was slowly plastering him against the mud beneath his feet, "How very foolish."
None of the party spoke but only watched him in silence that radiated with hatred of the most utter degree, something that could and would never be seen for quite some time. Years would go by before such a hatred for one single individual would exist. Then again, this was the legacy of Naraku.
"It is of no matter in the end, I suppose. I can just as easily retrieve the jewel in the end. She can still be caught—that damnable butterfly." Naraku spat, bringing up his blooded member and rubbing his hair out of his eyes with the stump. His face turned red, a dripping angry color that seemed both as tragic and horrifying; it was indeed a monster that lay behind those eyes, a tortured angry monster that society, throughout it's rigid boundaries had created.
Sesshoumaru blinked, looking away from the creature that even caused his bloodstained heart to pang, but only the slightest. Naraku was still a thing to be despised, hated, and wished to tread upon, if only for that momentary pleasure.
When Sesshoumaru faced him again, he paled. The hand had grown back in that short amount of time. It was startling and revolting to realize that such were the lengths of Naraku's power; to the boundless ends could the thing reach. And yet, how ironic it was that a random arrow had stuck him down, if only temporarily; none the less, it completed the desired objective. Kagome had escaped, somewhere, somewhere with the Shikon no Tama.
But one option remained for one such as him; to fight. Inuyasha seemed too startled and baffled to partake in any action, and the priestess who had shot the freeing arrow that had released Kagome was not strong enough to go against one such as Naraku. No, all that remained was he, alone in such a storm. All that remained was to battle the elements with but a chipped sword in hand.
So, slowly, ever slowly, like the coming of spring or autumn, he arranged his posture and stance, and finally his grip against the tired old blade. The act may not kill Naraku, perhaps not even wound him; but time was what was needed, he could feel it shivering inside his heart, in the darkness of dawn. And give time to Kagome he would, damn it; even if the two of them had forsaken such a thing for this moment.
Yes, even if the two had forsaken such a thing.
So, with sword in hand, Sesshoumaru raced against time as much as he could be allowed. One deadly step after another, with each movement he could feel his death pressing closer upon his heart. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
There was never a time for thoughts such as those. He had to keep moving. Naraku was so near. Glinting like that jewel had but a few moments ago.
Lifting the sword high above its head, the blade so old and broken that it did not even gleam in the grey light of the day, he allowed it to crash down upon Naraku who had been previously gathering string in which to, once again, spirit away Kagome within its bounds.
Naraku saw the blade well enough and brought his hands up, no doubt with the aid of his powers he would have been able to block the blow.
Yet Sesshoumaru was not known as the killing blade for no reason.
Withdrawing it slightly the metal merely blew upon the profile of Naraku, slightly stinging at his purple garments. Sweeping it further back, a grim expression upon his face, Sesshoumaru bent in for the kill and swiftly and efficiently, with all the grace of a lightning bolt, he jammed it into the dark recesses of Naraku….
And so it was. But not quite.