Ascension of the Spirit

By Banana Rum: Kalliel

--

Thanks

Moggy-I think that too. It makes A LOT of sense if you weight out the possibilities!

Dkorely-I HOPE it was long enough, 5, 916 words! I figured out I can't TYPE on any computer and keyboard that isn't my own…

horse-crazy-girl-it's okay. Stupid fanfiction dot net's fault completely. Thanks for the compliments everyone!

MeLaiya-I get lost too. How sad…

Kikyo-the-walnut-#1 beta reader…on Mars.

Thanks for the compliments everyone!

--

Disclaimer: There is a reason this is called fanfiction…

Sorry this is late—too much soccer, not enough time and/or will to write. Too much adrenaline too.

Excessive profanities in this chapter merely because, while it is not first-person, it is namely narrated by Inuyasha.

Mentionings of roosters and pheasants because I like fat, flight-impaired birds and they do actually have something to do with the plot. Kind of. Not really.

--

Beta read by Kikyo-the-walnut/Zora (Thank the gods. This thing was typo land before.)

--

Chapter 5: Jealousy

Inuyasha

In between, Japan

Sengoku Jidai

A gentle wind, a playful push. Whirling danger; a dance of infinite tapestries sewn together with silver moonbeams and deep sea musings. The whispering winds streaming past his ears told him she was gone. His own tawny vision told him she was gone.

But it was the plunge of his spirits that told him he KNEW she was gone.

Looking upwards, all that was visible of her remnants was her torso upwards, and even then there was a gaping hole that he could have fit both his fists through easily.

Wasted arrogance. He frowned, wiping a sheen of sweat and blood from his cheek. Of all the things he could have been doing while she died, he was killing a pheasant. A damn pheasant!

She had dropped her katana upon sealing the horde-youkai's soul, and it was now plunged tip-down in the swamp-like terrain. Grasping the hilt, he pulled it out, wiping the mud off with his sleeve. It was a nice sword; passably balanced and an edge kept as sharp as possible.

He could remember the winter evenings that she would sit near the fire pit, dragging the blade across a whetstone along a well-grooved path. Thinking back, he could actually recall the making of the weapon as well. They had gone to the slayer's village, of all places, walking uphill all day.

She was being too slow for him. Walking, examining…living. By the time they reached the village there was no doubt in his mind he'd trekked up and down the whole damn mountain at least three times. She kept telling him, "Slow down, slow down. Go too quickly and you'll run out your life prematurely."

But he was still here, and she was the one who died.

That 'Sango' girl… Had she been there when the sword was forged? Maybe. She was old enough at least to be a pup waddling at her mother's side then.

Slipping the katana into his obi, his hands brushed against an engraved blemish on the surface of the steel. "Kyuuriko", the sword was called, after the woman who created it; sent into the forge untold numbers of times, made from folding the steel over and over until there were no more air pockets and the sword was durable enough to take on the hide of a demon.

Demons…Absently he walked in a dreamlike march back to the shrine, wondering who would next become the miko to protect the village of calling roosters. Midoriko had never taken any apprentices—she was too self-confident for that. It almost wasn't fair that humans had to plan ahead in their lives, learn their trades, when youkai can dominate nearly any land, conquering on power and instinct alone. Almost unfair, but not quite.

At the snail-like place at which he was receding into more personal memories, he had also managed to cross into the woodlands he called home. Unless Midoriko asked him to share her home. Unless she 'insisted', as she put it. Kicking over the tributes to Kariko and her family half-heartedly, he silently wished the entire Yakota clan would rot in hell. Midoriko wouldn't like that. Damn, she was dead and she could still influence him. Chiding himself for petty sentimentality, he bent down and set the tiny bowls and offerings back onto the mounds of mulch, still fresh and shaded from change.

She was the only one who could push him around like that; of that he was sure. Why had he let her get away with so much?

Crossing under the torii, re was reminded of all too many such circumstances. Pushing him into the mud, kicking him down, subduing his rashest actions by merely looking strangely at him…

What the hell was he thinking? Only a youkai witch should have that much over him. Not a human priestess.

Friendship was something she had introduced. He found it a pleasing enough occupation, though damnable at times. And yet she had been acting so strange of late—something beyond the confinements of friendship.

Stalking through dusk's shadows, it wasn't really worth it to light the lamps Midoriko had advertised such an obsessive fetish with. So he revisited in darkness.

That morning now so long ago, Kariko's memorial, had held promise, cold autumn awareness sinking in on the world, with just enough unkown spice to invigorate certain needs. She had been angry with him just for sitting outside. If she would stop worrying about stupid things like that, maybe she could have had time to pursue her more wild ambitions, whatever they were.

Those were secrets she would never tell, though he thought that maybe one of them had broken through unexpectedly.

Of all the bizarre actions and pathways she had walked, in the span of ages he had known her, the one that morning was certainly the most eccentric yet. She had kissed him! Not any diviner in the land could have predicted such a display. She had loved him. That he knew now, like every little piece in a jigsaw puzzle had finally come together, and with that the final revelation. But did he return the feelings? It was a question he had never found the need to struggle with before. Yes, he did, his first thoughts told him. But deeper inside, locked within reserves of power and unswept corners of his mind, his heart said no. Not love. Only friendship. Not this 'love'.

It was then that it hit him how much he really missed her. Missed the fact that she would never yell at him again, never stare off in one of her serious-spells and utter her sage advice. Because she was taken away. By who? She had captured and presumably killed the youkai, so who was to blame for her absence? From the place that the truth of the depth of his affections for the miko came from, the same sentiments told him that placing the blame on anyone but on Midoriko herself or possibly him was foolish, but for the moment, he could ignore that. The most natural actions fell far below such upstanding morals.

That fucking slayer kid. He growled, clenching and unclenching his fists as he thought about the late Kohaku. He was the bastard who so inclined Midoriko to chase her death. He was gone now as well, but there was undoubtedly still family left to pay for his idiocy.

The hanyou crept out of the shrine—there was no sense in giving the miko a burial, her body was unreachable and he hadn't the slightest idea of how anyway. All that was left was vengeance. Cold, hard vengeance. He slammed open the shouji, hitting it hard against the support beams so that a rift cracked all the way down the frame. He cursed more strongly and freely than should probably have been allowed in a holy area, and threw his body at the screen, breaking through the fragile rice paper and rendering it incapacitated.

He stormed into the forest with a more brutal visage than he thought possible for a person in mourning.

The same winds that had brought some inkling of terrors within his heart were now inviting, lifting his shining tresses up off his sweat-lined neck and offering him a cooling sanctuary.

Gauging the distance between these woods—HIS woods—and the forest of pheasants, he could get to the Taiji Village by dawn. It had been a long week already—he hadn't truly slept since the day before Kariko's memorial. If Midoriko knew what he had been doing, he would have earned more than just a kick off the house.

I was running then, Midoriko. Just like I'm going to do now. Running for me…and for you.

With that, there was nothing between him and the gods as his feet skimmed the shaded slivers of tree bark littering the ground, and spirits swam through the currents of air he created with the force of his sprint toward vengeance; remorse turned to fury.

--

Back at the shrine, two ujiko were awakened by the crash and shouting marking the hanyou's departure.

"What was that, you reckon?"

"The youkai already took the miko. Her hanyou 'pet' was surly enough to discern at least that. Scared the life ouuta me, stalking through the shadows like the obake."

"Probably wrecked the shrine. Think we could coax a fee out of him?"

"You can't get goods from those who have none."

"Point taken."

The two strange old men retreated to their beddings, but not before sneaking some more luxurious provisions out of the storehouse. There was no one to stop them now, after all.

Ah, 1530. A good year.

--

Nestled in one of the many dips and rises of the serene mountaintop, the forges of the Taiji Village lay dormant. The weapons, too, slept, while their masters rested in their beds of comfort.

A swirl of gray, rippling cloud-cover hovered over their domain, sending a light spatter of mist-like rain on their hills. The hours before dawn and work; a benevolent atmosphere that encouraged slumber and rejuvenation.

But Sango was not asleep. Nor was she comfortable. She was with Mujina, huddled in her red-sewn raingear and watching her friend 'create', as she so aptly put it.

Letting the rain drip down her slicked back hair, hands poised in a meditative gesture, Mujina's small form was enveloped in a strange light that seemed to shadow the surroundings instead of brighten them. Without warning, she broke her stance, letting the spell fall away in wisps, snaking over the fields and up into the boughs of the nearby woodlands.

"Mujina, what was that one?" Sango asked, trying to force some amount of feined curiosity into her voice. They had only just returned home from Kohaku's burial, yet the stupid girl wouldn't let her get some sleep! No, they had to be practicing charms and curses and whatnot.

"It's supposed to keep the weaker youkai away. See how it went to the fores? That means there's more of an aura in that direction than that of the village. Makes sense, huh?" Mujina smiled, brimming with pride. She patted the reeds that sheltered Sango good-naturedly, and said, "Just one more, 'kay?"

"That means there's a youkai in the forest. A strong one." Sango stated, ignoring the last part Mujina had said.

"There always are. I'll bet you're scared 'cause it's dark and all. I mean, you already insisted in wearing you uniform, "Mujina reassured her, pointing at the black catsuit Sango wore.

"Only the kitsune and tanuki. If there was no central threat, it should have dispersed evenly; not all the tendrils should have gone to one part of the woods."

Mujina's eyes widened, evident that she hadn't realized that. "You're a good taijiya, Sango. Better even than your father."

"You know how to make a profession sound very ludicrous, Mujina." Sango smiled. "You've never even see chichi-ue fight. That's where true taijiya pride themselves."

"Well I-uh…I guess not." Mujina stuttered, turning back to the task at hand. "In any case, my spell should deter and further progression. I wanna do one more ward."

"You need more practice on the last one. Just not right now," Sango commented wryly. "Because there's our demon."

And Sango was right. At the edge of the forest, a thicker shadow loomed, discernable only in shades of gray and hues of black. It was smaller than Sango had envisioned, though much larger than a forest creature.

The young taijiya threw off her gear, loosening her sword in its sheathe and grabbing the sturdy leather straps of her most prominent weapon, the boomerang forged of youkai hide and skeletons.

"Mujina."

"What." It was uncomfortable when Sango went from her obliging, childish companion to a taijiya with a duty—like they had suddenly switched roles.

"Go back to the village, but don't tell anyone I'm here. I want to do this by myself." The youkai was coming closer, trampling the tall grasses in a bloodlust manner, its intent obviously the Taiji Village.

Nodding, Mujina scrambled up the hill to the village, slippery with dew and freshly stewed mud. Grabbing at the tall weeds for support, she sunk low into the field in a clearing that overlooked the forest. No way was she going to run away. Merely…avoid being seen.

--

"You're the demon who was with Midoriko-sama! Why did she not return? What did you do with her?" Sango shouted at the youkai, closing in on her immobile prey.

He tensed, but stayed silent.

Circling him, sword drawn, she kept her eyes on his hands. He had a sword and…claws. Make sure to realize you opponent's advantages. Prepare yourself for countering them. Her father's words echoed through her head. All was quiet for a moment, with only the crunch of wilted grass beneath her boots ensuring that she had not gone deaf.

Then she struck out low at his legs. He answered her offensive with a dive, catching the place behind her knees, causing her to fall over. Flipping back upright she slashed vertically, but the hanyou caught her and threw her back a few yards.

Sango let out a grunt as she made impact with the ground, but easily rolled to a standing position once more. Grabbing her boomerang from its hidden location in the reeds, she arched her back and threw her weight forward, letting it loose gracefully.

"Hiraikotsu!" she shouted as the projectile whizzed past, hacking the tops off of some unsuspecting dandelions.

The hanyou's eyes widened in surprise as he dove to the ground to avoid the attack. Damn, I forgot about that. Just seconds too quick for him, Sango's weapon slammed into his shins as his hands touched earth, sending him flying off in a different direction than he originally intended, slamming his body into a tree on the outer rim of the forest.

With a groan, the hanyou slid down, lying still at the foot of the growth. Sango jogged over, blade in hand. Kneeling down to inspect the body, she drew back her sword to spear his heart. "Burn in hell, fiend." She whispered fiercely, only to be met by a similar retort and eyes that did, indeed, seem to blaze with the fires of hell. He spun and kicked her down, at the same time grabbing the Hiraikotsu and formlessly throwing it deeper into the woods.

Drawing out Kyuuriko, he cut in with an upwards-diagonal slash, met by the bone-jarring clang of steel against steel as Sango responded with a defensive parry. Shifting the weight to her back foot, Sango jumped backwards and lunged. Her opponent easily dodged and attempted to slash at her side, but the taijiya swerved to avoid it.

From the hillside, Mujina watched, shining steel glistening in the feeble morning sunlight and the ever-strengthening rain that had begun to grace them with a torrential downpour. Silently, Mujina cheered her friend on. C'mon, Sango. Slice him to pieces. Punch his guts out.

Their dance came to a halt as they locked close together in a stalemate. Neither, however, was willing to break it for fear the other would think he or she had given in.

Sango's eyes wandered to the demon's sword. It was much like her own wakizashi…Gasping as she read the maker's seal. "How did you get a hold of one of my mother's pieces? She would never forge one for the likes of youkai!"

Ah, so she's Kyuuriko's daughter. Come to think of it, they do look alike. This'll prove entertaining. "Your mother, eh? Kyuuriko Kaiyou was much prettier than the Kyuuriko Sango, you know that? Kyuuriko Kaiyou's daughter is more manly along the shoulders and…thighs."

"And how would you know, hanyou? Were you INSPECTING me?" she shot back. She didn't know why such a comment infuriated her so. Maybe it was because it was from HIM. "You're not much of a prize yourself, girly."

"Look who's talking, you pervert." The hanyou leapt up, somersaulting through the air to land in a tree.

"Take it as you will," Sango retorted.

"Look, I don't want to get too close to someone like you, so let's make this a long-range battle."

"I have the same sentiments."

And so their battle arena expanded into the forest. The hanyou took to the trees, weaving through the sky above Sango like a needle through silk. Grasping the weapon known as 'flying bones', Sango sprinted through the outer rim of the woods, gaining momentum for her swing. Letting loose Hiraikotsu like a wave throwing a piece of lumber, it tore through moss-covered floor and sapling alike, cleaving a nesting pheasant in two as it spun with strength much more than Sango alone could supply.

The youkai looked back as the boomerang approached him, ever so steadily gaining. Ironically, even as he turned leave its path, the weapon also began to swerve in the same direction, coming around to return it to its wielder and complete the parabola. He couldn't go the other direction—the trees stopped.

She had him. Like a trapped child about to be devoured by oni, she had him. Smiling in premature victory, she stood her ground. Five, four, three…seconds until her 'baby' came back to her… Then, in a flash of movement, something tackled her to the ground, the quickening Hiraikotsu flying over both of them and driving an edge low into the slushy fields. In a tangle of limbs and swords and angry insults, the hanyou and taijiya fell hard onto the ground, Sango pinned beneath the former.

"Damn you, you…you idiot!" she growled.

"Am I an idiot for saving my own hide?" the hanyou shouted back, pushing himself off of her with more force than was necessary.

Sango responded only with a swift roundhouse kick as she rolled to her feet, catching him off guard.

He swerved to the side, barely dodging, answering her blow with his own offensive.

Sango blocked, turning the defensive postion into a well-executed vertical cross chop. He met it with a rogue punch to her shoulder, breaking through her diminishing barriers of defense. She winced, then, attempting to recover, launched yet another flurry of hard-hitting strikes to the ribs. The hanyou leapt out of the way of the onslaught, drawing distance between them once more.

Pushing off from the base of a nearby tree, in the same instant he propelled his body forward yet again, claws outstretched.

Sango cringed, shielding her head with her arms admitting defeat.

As the razor-sharp scythes ripped through the tender flesh of her forearm and scarlet raindrops splattered her vision, all she could think of was her mother and Kohaku; how happy they must be that she was joining them. Then, as her head tipped back and she felt the true hatred of a demon pouring forth, drawing crimson lines of fire against the pallid flesh of her stomach, she saw a golden bird flit from the Taiji Village to the forest.

Collapsing as her own blood flowed freely onto her lap and dribbled down her boots, the hanyou came after her again for the final strike.

The naïve fool. If he was looking for revenge, he won't find it here. Sango bit her lip in concentration as she fumbled for her last means of salvation…ah, there is was. Soft and fragrant in her hands.

"Retribution for your brother leading Midoriko to her death, bitch," he snarled, merely a blot of darkness as the bird of riches spread behind his form.

When Sango didn't answer, he turned back to the forest. He would kill every last taijiya bastard in due time.

"I won't…die at the hands of a…" The hanyou swiveled to face her once more. Not dead yet, then.

"…the hands of a…half-breed!" The taijiya tossed a filmy gray mixture at the silhouette of shadow, its outline wavering with the poison and scalding brightness.

Her adversary retched, clutching his middle. The toxin burned his lungs, as if intent on dissolving them. He blinked dazedly as the concoction stung his eyes and his vision even more impaired by water as the rain continued to pour down.

Sango sighed, slipping further away as the rain drummed an incessant melody to which her heart strained to beat in tandem to.

"Sango!" Mujina cried once more. Had she called before, though? The taijiya couldn't tell, but she could hear her voice now, and that was all that mattered. "Do you know I'm here…?" Mujina wiped some flecks of blood from Sango's face, brushing back stray strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

Yes, Mujina. Where has the golden pheasant gone? She answered, unaware that she had only thought and not spoken the words.

"Damn you damn you damn you!" Mujina screamed at the stationary half demon, who was still fighting to recover from the poison. "You bastard!" she had never been truly frightened in her life before this—but if Sango was gone, there was no one. Nothing. All was insignificant. Leaving Sango's side for a moment, Mujina sprang up and kicked him hard in the ribs. He flinched, and didn't retaliate. Again and again, until Mujina fell into the mud, exhausted and emotionally drained. "Damn you to hell and back," she choked out, tears lacing through paths already created by the rain.

--

Elsewhere

Sengoku Jidai

Sango could see the caramel feathers of the great bird again. Not the mirage-like haze from before, but in painted detail, every uneven end and prim plume on its bronze wings arched in flight.

Surprisingly, she found herself on its back, gliding through honey-soaked muscles rippling as its wings pumped through the skies beneath her touch. The air, too, was sweeter, though it held undercurrents of dampness and blood.

"Where are you taking me?" Sango asked, a tremor riding through her tone as she realized she was naked.

The bird was silent, merely tilting downwards, beginning their descent though the water-laden clouds below. The young girl was overwhelmed by smells of immense cleanliness, puffs of fluff forking past them and drenching her skin with moisture, ribbons of white clinging to her skin.

And then her world cracked in half.

Searing whitefire eclipsed her mount, grinding pain pulsing through her body and mind. A peculiar sensation permeated her being; they were falling. Rushing rivulets of memory came back in brief snatches as she and myriad sources of power in the form of feathers cascaded past them.

Peering across the imagery of recollections, she saw darkness and blood below. Thrusting her gaze upward for reassurance, only a stinging miasma raining down on her, dissolving the feathers and indenting pockmarks into her skin, met her. Below, the ground of boiling lava and spouting blood loomed ever nearer.

Sango screamed.

--

Taiji Village

Sengoku Jidai

"Is Sango-sama feeling well?" A voice sounded from outside.

"She is not taking visitors, well-wishers, solicitors, mourners, mates, relatives, prosecutors, interrogators, or interviewers at this time," was the curt reply.

Mujina? Sango was inexplicably confused. She was in her home, thick strips of coarse cloth bound around her right arm and torso. She tried to sit up experimentally, before falling back on her futon as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her.

A shadow crossed over her face before a soft thump signified kosode meeting wooden floor. "Are you awake?" A female voice whispered timidly.

"Un," Sango answered. "What happened to the golden pheasant?"

"It was a crane." Mujina corrected automatically, an air of annoyance heating the statement.

"You saw it too?" Sango fingered an edge of the blanket draped over her otherwise bare body. Shivering, she sighed.

"Ah-no! I mean…uh…are you cold?" Mujina adjusted her position uncomfortably before rising to fetch another quilt.

Sango brushed a damp lock of ebony locks from her forehead, hot with fever and dripping with perspiration. The chill breeze sneaking under the shouji helped clear her mind. The hanyou…her defeat. She almost cried at the memory. She lost to a-a…an idiot.

"Sango…" another blanket plopped onto her body as Mujina returned. "Forgive me."

"For what? What happened back there…was my fault. For being so stupid! Stupid!" Sango's words caught in her throat before she could finish and tapered off in a quiet sob. Drawing the blankets over her head, she continued to sniffle, repeating over and over, "I'll beat him, I'll kill him, I'll beat him, I'll kill him…"

"And so you shall, my friend," Mujina soothed, blinking back her own tears. "I shall see to that."

-end chapter five

--

More author's notes than anyone will ever need:

This is the first recorded chapter of Ascension in which Inuyasha and Sango intermingle with each other. Such a…uh…ROMANTIC start, ne?

Please tell me if the part where Sango andInuy-…erm…THE Hanyou were fighting was passable. Its my first shot at any actual battle- whamming things with the goddamn Tetsusaiga or just brainless brawl scenes excluded-so I would like to know if it was good and what I could work on.

Definition of Place, Objects and Time:

Kyuuriko: (the sword) Cucumber Girl. A silent tribute to kikyo-the-walnut, I guess. Cucumbersyummy!

Torii: the gate thingys at Shinto shrines. (You know…the ones that appear in Inuyasha so often. They're usually red.)

Sengoku Jidai: Warring States Period (Kamakura Shogunate, I THINK. This is from memory, so…yeah. Don't bother correcting this if it's wrong.

Niwatori Village: Rooster Village (only later did I realize there was a Yu Gi Oh card called Niwatori. –sigh- This is why I keep mentioning roosters…yeah

Taiji Village: Slaying Village. Somewhat.

In between: not Japanese, but it needs defining. "in a kind of inhabited place like a field near a village somewhat" is more like it, but doesn't sound nearly as cryptic

Elsewhere: It WAS "in the past" which made me less confusing of a person, but Zora made me change it…-grumble-

In the Wilds: almost the same thing as 'in between' but refers to more of a mountain area, or forest. Places that are…wild.

See ya, Kalliel