Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha
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He will always blend in.
In the curls of searing noxious heat he unwittingly incinerates his bandit skin, transmuted into an enfeebled thing lying in wait. Once a thief who stripped men of money, skin and viscerals, he is fire-new and broken.
He waits rather than stalks. The allure of his innocent guise holds promise, and the best prey is the prey deceived, the prey misled, the prey betrayed.
But that is now.
There was then.
In villages then he wiped blood from his weapons, come from his cock, and sweat from his skin. Blending in like a human. Except humans don't breathe blood and fumes and pain like he does.
But that was then.
There is now.
In caves where the shadows are alive now he envisions the woman who feeds and bandages him as broken and useless as he, and not just physically. On her back, her flesh as twisted and mangled and corrupted as her soul. Blending in like a threat. Except worthwhile threats can do more than wish.
But now that now is then.
Now there is what's to come.
There are things borne of hellish unions, things that live off rancor. Things that slink through both day and night undetected until it's too late. Onigumo invites these to consume his putrid body so he can consume her pious soul. And now he blends in.
He is the Miko is the Hanyou is Hell is Kagewaki is Naraku.
But no longer Onigumo. There's no changing back.