A/N: Well, I'm glad you all are enjoying this, and yes, I do know that it is a tad bit angsty-er than my previous fics…but what can I say? It fits. So, without further ado, I give you "My Favorite Color."
In this Section: Rating: R (Violence, Graphic descriptions). You have been warned.
My Favorite Color
(A song-fic to Chevelle's "The Red")
By: Yabou
Part 2 – And the Little Boy Cried
- The red, well it filters through –
He scrunched his small, clawed hand convulsively and attempted to wipe his eyes only to find a warm, foul smelling liquid coating every available span of his skin. His eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion as he tried to push his body off of the ground only to have his arms and legs slide out from under him and fall back into a pool of liquid beneath him with a sickening squish.
Carefully, he tried again, digging his claws through the thick liquid and into ground under it to prevent another unwanted fall. Somehow the overwhelming smell was trapped inside of his very nose; he could feel the drying liquid inside and knew that the stench was not one that he would soon forget. Using his chin, he nudged his haori off of his shoulder to reveal the softer yukata beneath it. Thankfully, from what he could feel, the vile liquid had not managed to seep through his strong fire-rat's fur.
Inuyasha pulled at the yukata with one hand and used it to wipe away whatever it was that was preventing his eyes from opening. He could feel the layers of crust pulling at his eyelashes even while he persisted in scrubbing it away with the clean fabric. Wiping off his claws, he used their sharp edges to remove the thicker, heavier clumps.
Finally, after several small growls and a few quiet yelps, he opened his eyes…only to be horrified by what he saw.
Blood covered the ground like a winter's first deep snow. The putrid pools were so incredibly thick that the drying grass retained its dulled red color. Nearby rocks carried an ethereal sheen of glistening red with bumpy red and black dried portions that made them look like they could possibly be the key ingredient in some old witch's ancient potion.
Slowly, he managed to push himself to his feet. What happened here? He struggled vehemently and urged his five-year-old brain to remember something…anything. Those men…they threw things at me…and that man…he had…he had black eyes! Where am I? Unconciously, his body turned a slow circle, allowing his innocent eyes to survey the full damage the hillside had taken.
There were remnants of the yellowing tents he had seen last night, and he could barely make out one of the fire pits that had burned so brightly the night before. If I am still here…then where are the humans? A gasp escaped his bruised and bloodied lips.
Dangling high above the ground from the same oak that they had secured him to, were the men that had threatened him. They had ropes, strings, and even clothing tying them to the massive branches by their ankles. His enhanced eyesight could make out the broken bones in every man's body and found that there were few that weren't. The blood flowing from their mouths and limbs was beginning to clot, and the vulture demons readily gathered round to circle their prepared prey.
He wondered what type of terrible creature could cause such harm to those men, even if they had deserved it. There was always a difference between thoughts and actions. His mother had taught him that. Quickly, he managed to stagger away from the scene of the crime using the unobstructed part of his nose to scent the air for a source of water.
He began to feel slightly better when he finished making his way through the masses of blood and entrails piled around the campsite and out into the open, clean grass. The smell of blood had been so heavy in the air that he hadn't even been able to decipher what it was until after he peeled open his eyes.
Pausing at the entrance of a cave hidden from the view of any normal passerby, he tested the air again for wild animals, youkai, and water. Catching hold of only the water's smell, he pushed aside the large, grass-like bushes blocking the opening and walked through a hole that was definitely to small and thick to be capable of housing any larger threats.
He sighed in relief and finally allowed his ears to drop from their alert position on top of his head as he made his way back to a pool of mineral water near the first bend in the cave.
His hand stopped just before it fell to cup the water; he could only stare in shock at what he saw.
His reflection.
His reflection was covered in blood. Everything was covered in blood. His fangs, his claws, his face, his skin. Everything.
One finger dipped to trace the edges of his face in the pool in stunned silence, even the steady drip from the rocks above into the pool faded into the background while his mind reeled. I did it. He gagged as the taste of the men's blood sank into his tongue; he couldn't take it. With one heaving gulp, he emptied everything that he had taken from the men.
Their food.
Their blood.
Their flesh.
He tasted every drop of it as it burned his way up his throat and out onto the ground beneath him.
He jumped to an upright position and nearly lost his balance and fell from his precarious perch up in the treetops, his breath flowing in and out in short, choppy gasps. A dream. "Just a dream." He whispered to himself, but still he rolled off of the branch with a little less than his normal fluid grace. His eyes noted the locations of each of his companions before he allowed himself to wander away to the nearby stream. It was a dream. I'm not five fucking years old anymore. I can deal with this.
His hands splashed violently against the water's surface before he had a chance to get a look at his own reflection; he was still a little afraid of what he might see in it. He could not be completely sure that the five-year-old version of himself that haunted his dreams would not haunt his waking moments as well.
His normally steady hands shook and his splashed soaked not only the skin on his face, but his hair and his clothing too. No matter…it could always dry. The water always dries quicker than the blood. He knew that his mind was playing tricks on him, but he could still feel it. He could still feel it drying and crusting and itching. He could still feel the small pieces under his claws that were so difficult to get out.
He could still feel the blood. With every thought, the gentle splashes turned to scrubbing, and then the scrubbing turned to ripping and tearing. He couldn't get it off.
All the blood.
It just wouldn't go away. Go away. Go away.
"Go away!" He screamed, pushing his hands against the sharp rocks in the bottom of the river until the water began to filter through with wide bands of red.
Then, just as abruptly as it had started, he picked himself up from the riverbed and made his way to slump against the bank in a dazed stupor. I can't let this happen. I have to be strong. It's all so fucking stupid. It's not real anymore! "It's not real." He whispered, as if hearing the words would reassure him of something he made no attempt to believe.
"Inuyasha?" A melodious voice called out worriedly from the shelter of the trees. "Inuyasha, are you okay?"
Always worrying. He grunted darkly in response, not really knowing if she could hear and not trusting his voice to not quake when he spoke. It's not real.
"Inuyasha," she sighed in relief and plopped down beside him on the grass. "Something wrong?"
He grunted again and didn't look at her either, not trusting his eyes not to give away his emotions. They always seemed to have a way of telling her things that he didn't want her to know. Or at least didn't want her to know yet.
"Inuyasha." Her voice held a tint of sadness mixed with anger when he still did not look toward her.
And he couldn't stand it. "What?"
She bit her lip at the croaking sound of his voice, but decided that she wasn't going to gain anything by trying the straightforward method. "It's so beautiful out here." She gasped in awe at the number of the stars in the night's sky.
"What?" He gave her a funny look and laid down completely, Kami knew he could barely even sit straight anymore.
"Well," she prodded. "Don't you think its pretty out?"
Giving her a very dull look and a snort, he rolled over onto his side so that he was facing away. At times like this, it was best not to look at her. "That's stupid, wench."
Kagome rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. If he's calling me names again then I guess everything is all right. "You're such a romantic, Inuyasha."
Her only response was another senseless grunt.
Maybe he just needs to be alone. She pushed herself up from the ground and called out a "Sweet dreams, Inuyasha," and headed back toward the campsite.
He grunted again once she was gone, for good measure, and rolled onto his back again to gaze up at the sky. It's not real.
All the same, the thoughts still poured over his soul as soon as he was completely alone again. He could see the small boy staring at him through a tainted pool of stale mineral water in a cave out in the middle of nowhere. He could feel the blood coating his skin in the same places that it had on the child. It's not real. He tried to remind himself. He really did, but there was no use.
He remembered that after all the trauma of that night and that morning he had done the only thing a small, frightened boy could possibly think to do.
He cried.
A/N: Well, so far so good? …Who knows…
-Yabou