Miroku eyed Inuyasha from the door of the small hut where they were staying. The half-demon took his unbidden rage out upon an unfortunate tree, fists and claws leaving deep scores into the tree's soft flesh. Miroku shook his head sympathetically, allowing the rush screen that covered the door to fall, blocking the sun's light.
Sango sat in the corner, quietly whittling at a small stick of firewood with a tiny carving knife. She turned her attention momentarily to her monk companion settling down nearby. Shippo looked up from patting a dozy Kilala, his young eyes full of worry.
"Is Inuyasha doing okay?" he queried.
Miroku sighed unenthusiastically, slipping his arms into his sleeves. "I'm afraid it doesn't look good, Shippo. Inuyasha is really taking Kagome's departure hard."
"Well you'd be takin' it pretty hard too if the one you loved left you," muttered the little fox-demon in defense for Inuyasha
Miroku gave him a little smile. "Why Shippo, I never knew you caught on so quickly with these kinds of matters." He sounded impressed.
"Don't try to flatter me," snapped Shippo. "I ain't clueless. I know what it's like to love some…" He broke off suddenly, blushing to the shade of deep crimson. Both Miroku and Sango grinned knowingly but said nothing.
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Inuyasha's fist shot out like greased lightning, leaving behind a deep indentation in the tree's surface. His breathing ragged from exertion, he finally slumped to the ground and held his throbbing hand, worn from the many blows he had assaulted upon the old oak. He critically examined his claws, to make sure they were not chipped or compromised in any way, and then let his weary gaze trail up towards the hut. He snorted.
Making sure no one was around, he fell backwards into the cool grass, collecting his breath in total peace. It had been three days since she had left, three days he had spent sleepless and uncomfortable. He longed for the calm breathing sounds she made that lulled him to sleep on hard nights, and the feeling that she was safe as he guarded over her each and every night. Subconsciously his claws dug themselves into the dirt, leaving deep furrows. He needed something to take his fury out on, those mixed up emotions swirling around in his soul needed to be released before he went mad and did something totally irrational.
As if by coincidence, a cry rang out from the nearby village. A young man came stumbling down the nearby path towards him, cutting across the field. Inuyasha could smell the fear from him and knew instantly that something was most definitely wrong. He jumped bolt upright as the man fell to his hands and knees before him.
"Sire," he wheezed, "a demon in attacking out village. We can't do anything to stop it! Please help us!"
It was evident that Miroku and Sango had heard the cry, for they poked their heads out from the hut door in interest. Before they could even ask the obvious question of what was going on, Inuyasha was already galloping full-pelt towards the village at a deceptive speed. He tore like wild fire over dry grass, skidding to a halt at the brow of a hill that looked down into the heart of the village. All he could see was smoke and fire, people running for cover, and the reaper of all this destruction.
The wolverine stood maybe three stories or more taller, it was hard to tell from his position on the hill. It tore at buildings with impassive, hooked claws, and every so often, a concentrated beam of aura and energy shot from a glimmering spot on its forehead.
'Must be a jewel shard,' he thought. 'Perfect…'
Like an arrow from a bow, he shot down the hill, running so quickly that he did not trip nor fall. And as he went, his hand shot to the worn hilt of his sword strapped to his side; Tetsusaiga.
In a flash of metal, he drew the magnificent blade from its scabbard, and swung the cumbersome thing aloft. Its edge was perfectly curved, just like a fang, and sharp only on the side that curved forward, like the swell of a wave. He wielded the thing with unnatural ease.
As Inuyasha neared the base of the hill, he leapt, soaring over the tops of yet untouched huts, and panicked villagers, landing in the village's main road.
The wolverine - a beast of nightmarish proportions - rose high above him, towering like a freakish monolith of shaggy fur and deadly fangs and claws. Hardly thinking, Inuyasha's wild instinct took effect. He pulled into a crouch, then his legs shot down like well-oiled pistons, propelling him up the creature, to which stayed blissfully unaware of him.
Until now.
The sword was brought back over his head, and then slammed back forward with unmerciful force. It cleaved through flesh and bone alike, and as he went soaring past, he could hear the wolverine's cry of pain, for its left arm now hung by a mere few strands of bloody skin.
Deep inside, a dark part of his soul growled with satisfaction, and he felt a shudder of unpleasant glee run up and down his spine. Two thoughts came simultaneously to his mind.
'Why am I feeling this away about harming something?' And. 'Who knew it felt so good.'
Rebounding off the wall of a hut, he came back at the vexed demon, sword ready to taste blood again. This time it saw this little determined missile of steel and fang and swung its remaining arm towards him like a clawed juggernaut, the bulge of muscle at his shoulder rippling.
Like a bothersome fly, Inuyasha evaded the wolverine's effort to take him down with lazy contempt, launching off one of its claws. His sword flashed one last time.
Inuyasha landed with ease on the roof of a hut, watching as the demon stood motionless. It turned towards him and stared down upon him with eyes that were cold and dead, flickering as its life eddied away. A thin line of blood began to ooze from a diagonal seam across its face. Then, with a sickening wet 'shnk' the top half of its head slid from the bottom, and fell to the ground below, spattering blood and brains.
With a lifeless body the wolverine staggered drunkenly with no more then a bottom jaw trickling a steady stream of blood. Then, like a tree that had past its time, the demon keeled over.
Charred wood and earth crunched beneath its bulk, now just dead weight. Sango, Miroku, and Shippo suddenly appeared, riding atop the monstrous form of Kilala in all her glory. Live flame crackling at her heels; she seemed to run on the air itself with feline grace, jutting fangs protruding from her top lip like icicles of fiercely glimmering ivory.
The demon cat yowled a greeting to the half-demon but was not heard, for Inuyasha seemed too entranced in something else. He stood over the crass form of half of the wolverine's dismembered head. His eyes held a confused, glazed look to them as Sango and the rest dismounted Kilala and moved towards him.
"Great job!" grinned Miroku, moving to give Inuyasha a hearty clap on the back.
Inuyasha twisted around upon the monk; his eyes seemed to be daubed with the crimson light of feral fury. Miroku withdrew quickly. Was it just him or did he perceive a subtle glance of jagged purple gashes upon Inuyasha's cheeks?