Requiem Of A Death Toll
By Kito-sama
Author's note: Ahem. Yes. Chapter two. Beware. Sorry if it's not up to par with the first chapter; I'm sort of lost for what to do in between the prelude and the plotline I've created (on a secret stash of notebook paper that anyone that even has the outstanding ability to enter my room could ever find). This chapter will probably be a bit dull, so please bear with me; the rest won't be so bad.
Chapter Two
Dreamless Revenge
My name is Tsubekami, and I am dead.
No, I am not a ghost; nor am I a zombie. I am merely a spirit, trapped in the boundless chasm between this world and the next. My mind is alive though my body long dead, rotting in the earthen soil which it was buried in, fifty-six years ago. Fifty-six years ago, today. My grave still remains untouched by the living, roots and weeds twining themselves around my small, meager grave marker.
My killer was the hanyou Inuyasha. That terrible hanyou was wicked, stricken, and power-hungry, with an unquenchable thirst for false revenge. It was a pathetic death—he broke my neck with one fell swoop of those gleaming claws of his. Why he did it, I don't even know. His loathing for humans was insurmountable from the verbal abuse he was inflicted as a child, and yet I am not human. I was also a hanyou—an inu hanyou, at that—and what he once considered an equal, a partner in battle.
Somewhere along the line, that changed. I can't exactly pinpoint when or how, exactly, but I remember that awful night when the change, the final stage of mentality corruption completed…the night of my murder.
I can't quite pinpoint what time it was; I just know that it was late, the sun had set a while prior. As usual I couldn't sleep…the draw of the night's sky was just too intriguing to my inferior human senses—it was the night of the half-moon, and my particular night of weakness. It was early spring, I think…the subtle fragrance of fresh cherry blossoms were in the air, the small buds on the branches of trees releasing the scent as they grew ever-so-slowly in the night hours.
The moon…ahh, the lunar miracle, changing monthly in its courses and stages, to return to the sky as beautiful as always, every night for as long as Earth exists. It was big and bright as ever, but somehow different. It was half as large of course, but there was something other than this obvious difference hanging along with it…it was almost as if…a sense of foreboding was lingering within the air, warning me to get out, that something was not right. This was a normal sense for my night of weakness, so I pushed it from the back of my mind, unawares that it might actually be telling me that if I did not leave now, I would never have the opportunity again. But did I believe it? No. Trust it? No. My senses were always jumpy, especially at this time of the month, henceforth adrenaline was a normal feeling for my human state, and the cricket song always startled me, somehow. Eerie, I always mused.
I never really knew to trust my gut, though I immediately regretted it when a ominous, looming figure with shining silver hair emerged from the shadows, grinning such a grin that could only be that of malice, and when I saw those glinting claws tipping those evil-looking fingers, I knew it was the end, long after my body had stopped struggling for precious oxygen.
The same half moon shone upon the oddest band of traveling demon-hunters to walk the land of Sengoku-Jidai Japan. The same blue lunar lantern provided a luminous path towards their destination, the same stars dotting the same midnight blue sky. The light was diffused through the leafy treetops and thusly created starry patterns on the ground, swaying like a young lovers' dance with each gentle breath Mother Nature exhaled.
A small yawn from the young kitsune of the group broke the peaceful silence, followed shortly by a ruffling breeze, shaking the tiny leaves ever so slightly. It tossed his ginger-red hair like a small child would do to their playmate, swinging his short ponytail held by teal ribbon. The weight of the endlessly long days slowly overcome his senses, the young fox-boy drifting off into a silent sleep from his perch on the shoulder of his surrogate sister, the miko Higurashi Kagome.
"Inuyasha," came her whisper, small in size but magnified umpteen times by the stillness of the half-dark night. "Inuyasha, I think we should stop and rest…" Kagome's voice trailed off as she pressed one forefinger to her lips and nudged her head slightly to her left, towards the sleeping kit curled on her shoulder. Young Shippou-chan was the picture of innocence (which all who knew him well enough knew was quite the opposite), his eyelids closed gently over small-but-keen lime eyes, his small chest rising and falling with each subtle breath stolen.
Not keen on stopping when they had hardly traveled much during the day, Inuyasha gave a curt nod and scowled, hopping up into a wise oak tree and saying naught more to anyone else for the night. He hated to stop his vigorous search—it was so untimely—and the demon blood that gave him life enabled him to go for days, even weeks on end without sleep, so while he feigned rest, he was actually watching the world's play act on it's constant stage through one slit amber eye, waiting for someone, anyone, to intrude upon his sleeping comrades.
Then I'd get 'em, he thought. Any bastard who tries to kill one of my friends deserves to burn in fucking hell. I could use a fight right now; it'd break the fucking monotony.
Inuyasha had long since given up on pretending that Brat, Sango, Miroku, Kirara, and most of all Kagome weren't his friends. It had been months since they had started traveling together, and some sort of bond had formed between them, an unspoken agreement to stick together, all for one and one for all. Sure, Kagome was a bit of a whiner, and yes, Miroku was a sukebe bouzu, but resist as he might, they were his friends, and he would sacrifice anything, his blood for theirs, for any one of them.
Well, maybe not Shippou.
A small, hesitant smile turned up the corners of Inuyasha's lips and unseen, Kagome smiled with him, pausing the unrolling of her sleeping mat for a moment. She liked to see him smile; it was rare for any of them, these days. Especially Sango-chan.
Sango-chan had been worrying her a lot these days. After a previous incident with Kohaku-kun, she had gone into her normal somber funk, and Kagome worried that each time this happened, there was more of a chance that the poor girlwould take her life. Always so depressed, Sango was, and Kagome-chan knew that she wasn't afraid of death, to take her own life to ensure that both her brother and herself would be free.
But she wouldn't kill herself before she did free Kohaku.
Sango was too dedicated to her brother, too far in to give up now. Kagome remembered how once Sango had tried to kill Kohaku and then herself, but Inuyasha had showed up in the nick of time and the sword flew ten feet from her hand, her sanity knocked into her as the wakizashiwas knocked away. How Sango survived day-to-day kept Kagome constantly pondering. If something like that had happened to Souta, Mama and Jii-chan, Kagome-chan could honestly say she would have given up many months ago.
And yet, this amazing woman had come to them from the grave itself, remaining firm in her ways and even sometimes finding the strength to offer a small smile to a weary comrade, persistent in everything from her quest for freedom to her small slap-fits with the vivacious houshi. What did she have to smile about?
Though in sleep, Sango would smile. Maybe she was remembering the good times that she had had with her little brother, or maybe she was thinking of Miroku-sama. Quick as always, Sango had rolled out her sleeping bag and was already dead to the world, dreaming Sango dreams and thinking Sango things.
It's none of my business anyway. Sango-chan would never open up and show her emotions and besides, she looks so peaceful when she's asleep. Why take that away from her, when that's the only content that she has?
Inuyasha no baka was always so oblivious to such complex emotion, but Kagome-chan for one could tell that Miroku and Sango were falling for each other, if they liked it or not. There was always a hint of a smile hidden in the anger of Sango-chan's gorgeousmahogany orbs after a wiry slap or a stray caress, and there was always that little unspoken saying in Miroku-sama's afterward smirk—"She wants me."
He's so cocky, Kagome thought idly, feeling the welcome pull of sleep's waves on her waning, sluggish consciousness, all emotion soon gone from her mind as her brain rested, her eyes with it.
In sleep, one is forever free. In dreams, one can travel to the mountains of Tibet, see the rainforests of Panama, and play the stock game in America without fault and still be back in time for a quiet dinner with the family. Kagome-chan wondered, though, what was the girl dreaming?
Author's note:
Sorry this chapter took a bit of a while; I'm sure there will be longer, but some of you seemed a little upset that I hadn't posted yet. :Cough.: I only had six reviews last chapter, but I really appreciated them all. You're too kind, and I thank you for reviewing so nicely.
I might not be able to update so frequently until mid-August or so, unfortunately. My eighth-grade graduation is on Friday, and we're still in school until the twenty-fourth of this month. After that we're searching for a house, and we have to move by July thirty-first or go to jail. X.x
I'd appreciate your hospitality, but go ahead and yell at me if you want—I know how terribly boring summer can be without a few good things to read. ;
-Kito-sama
Chapter originally posted June tenth, two thousand five.
