Chickahominy Creek

Of All Possible Worlds

Chapter 2: Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

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Tokyo traffic was terrible. Cars and buses were backed up from the subway station all the way to Odaiba Park. Vehicles of all colors formed a dragon with multi-colored scales that reflected pale sunlight. It breathed fire and created artificial smoke, the prone body winding between buildings and nestled on hills. The heat wave that held Japan in its clutches lulled the dragon to sleep, too hot and heavy to move.

Kagome took a deep breath and fiddled with the radio. The voice over the waves reported the heat wave with no end in sight. Not something she wanted to hear while stuck in traffic in a beat up old box car with no air conditioning. Although she brought water, she had long since finished the final drops. Her mouth was filled with sand that stuck to the roof of her throat. Every grain dug into the sensitive cavity, every swallow caused pain. Her black hair stuck to her neck, pulled back in a low pony-tail. It was so hot that her skin was riddled with cracks. Water seeped up through them. It was quite puzzling, really. How could the city be so dry, yet her skin be oozing water?

The dial slid across the meter and finally reached a clear signal—98.5, KMPA. Kagome leaned back in her seat and allowed her melting skin to mold itself to the upholstery. Dart Yuimota's voice rang through the car. The DJ was on air with a caller, a woman with a nasal voice complaining about her children. KMPA was a station Kagome rarely listened to, though several of her friends virtually lived off of Yuimota's show. However, even Kagome had to admit that the man had a soothing, pleasant voice. It was comforting.

She gently pushed the accelerator down as the dragon inched forward, crawling along the burning black pavement. Her tires were sticking and the car groaned in complaint. It didn't want to exert itself and it was already overheated. Finally, a white sign loomed up against the hazy sky. Black paint, peeled off due to age, ran in dark smears, withered and dead. With relief, Kagome detached herself from the rest of the body and moved toward the area she had called home for most of her life.

The area commonly known as the sunset district was calm. Once off the exit, highway gave way to suburban streets and shops. At eleven o'clock, people were out in full force. Kagome had to stop at every crosswalk to allow pedestrians to pass. With school out for the summer holiday, kids lined the sidewalks in groups, talking and laughing. Mothers with small children carried grocery bags in one hand while steering a stroller with the other. She drove past her old high school, slowing down slightly as she neared the gates. They were closed now, but she could still see the entrance through the cracks and the large clock in the front of the building.

This place never changes. It's almost exactly as I remember it, down to the last stone.

Traffic took her past the old high school, winding leisurely through the downtown area and into the residential one. Houses were slowly beginning to replace shops, intermingling at places to make the transition smooth.

On instinct, she began to take the first right at the beginning of the residential area, down the road that led to her family's shrine. She had just barely begun to make the turn before she caught herself and twisted the wheel sharply to her left, forcing the driver behind her to slam on his brakes.

The car behind her laid on his horn and Kagome winced. At least he hadn't rear ended her. She hated to cause problems, but she didn't want to return home yet if it meant she had to revisit some of her past, not when she was doing so well.

Her mother had once told her that the shrine drew the Higurashi family. It pulled them towards it like a fisherman reels in fish. Sometimes, it let its catch pull away for awhile and draw the line outwards, but no matter what, it would always reel it back in. Kagome's mother had been raised there too, and after high school, she too had moved out, trying to get away from the quiet life at the shrine. She went to college, got married, and for one reason or another, gradually found herself returning to the shrine periodically. First, it was only once a month, then once a week, which turned into once every three days. It was always unconscious. Sometimes, she would be out shopping and find herself along the main walkway. After Kagome's grandmother died, Kagome's mother gave up and moved in permanently.

Kagome drove past, willing herself to ignore the urge to visit, just for a little while. She couldn't go home now, but it was hard to ignore the pull.

Three blocks later, she encountered a detour sign directing traffic away from the main road. Beside it was another sign reading "National Embassy Archeological Association: Dig In Progress." A police officer stood erect by a barricade, eyes drooping.

Kagome pulled her car up next to the officer and cranked down her window. As if he were just noticing her presence, the officer looked up, quickly pushing his dazed look aside and shoving his face into her car window. Sweat poured down his face, oozing out of small pours and bubbling to the surface. It looked like his skin was being boiled off his bones. The flesh was melting.

"The detour is that way. You can't get through here." Kagome stopped breathing, refusing to inhale the air he was pushing out of his disgusting lump of a head. The smell of his breath was acrid, a combination of stale milk glazed with mint from the old chewing gum in his mouth.

"Did you hear me? I said you can't come through here."

Realizing that holding her breath for the duration of their conversation would be impossible, Kagome exhaled. "I have permission from Mr. Akitaki. He invited me here today." When the oversized hog still didn't budge, she added, "I'm Kagome Higurashi."

The policeman pulled his head back through the window and began searching through his coat pocket, mumbling to himself in a low, grouchy voice. He produced a steno notepad from his jacket and began to flip through it roughly, jerking the pages backwards until he found what he was looking for; he scowled at the answer. He looked her over again. "Do you have ID?"

Kagome nodded and began rummaging through her purse before producing her driver's license and placing it in his outstretched hand. He inspected the photo carefully, bringing the card up to his face until it was only centimeters from his eyes. "This doesn't look like you," he said at last.

He moved towards the barricades at a reluctant amble, limping slightly as if he had a pebble stuck in his shoe that he couldn't get out. Beefy hands closed around the first wooden block and lifted it up; the man grunted with exertion. When the barrier was moved far enough that a car could pass through, he ambled back to her.

The officer stuck his head through the window. "If you have the boss's permission, I guess it's alright. Don't let me hear of you causing trouble." With that, he placed Kagome's ID back into her hand. The moment his head was clear, she rolled up the window, firmly shutting him out of the pure air in her car. Before placing her driver's license back into her wallet, she wiped it off, still disgusted at the slime that covered the plastic surface.

Once through the blockaded area, Kagome drove between a small grove of aspen trees, their backs arching over the road. Branches formed a tunnel that was as effective at blocking light as a tunnel through a mountain. The world beneath their haven was dark, enough so that Kagome thought about turning on her headlights. They say that the path to the spirit world was something like this, a midnight void into the afterlife. It was the same in almost every country—a dark tunnel with a light at the end connecting the living world with the dead.

Once upon a time, there was a war, a great battle that shook the foundations of the world. A maid lived within this time, the wife of a great lord, a powerful man who had gone off to battle to defend his clan immediately after their marriage. One night, she awoke to a loud wail, a horrible sound that wracked the hills. The maid ran to her window and peered out into the night. There, she saw a pale young woman, running from the gates of the castle. Although the maid had never seen the young woman before, she knew immediately that this must be a banshee, and from her startling cry came the herald of her beloved's death. The young wife was not ready to let go of her new husband yet, so she fled from the castle and followed the shadowy form into the hills. With her feet throbbing and her hair laying in tangles down her back, sweat drenched, she arrived at a pair of standing stones that led into a cave. When she entered, the light was pulled away and she could hear soft voices from within the walls. Many times she stumbled, but she would not relent. Finally, when it seemed the darkness could not become any blacker, a pale light exploded in front of her between two stone columns. The ghostly harbinger stood by the leftmost column. "Why do you come?" asked the banshee. "I come for my husband," answered the maid. "He cannot return," the banshee said. "Then I shall go to him." The maid stared into the mists between the pillars and out of it came a large fist. The palm uncoiled beckoning to her. At first, she was afraid, but then she noticed the ring on its finger, a larger version of the one she wore on her own right hand. The maid placed her hand in her husband's and allowed him to pull her into the light.

Kagome still remembered groves like this, from a long time ago…

"Inuyasha, are you sure this is safe?" Kagome asked, peering hesitantly through the underbrush. The path they were on was narrow, barely wide enough to allow a single person through. She kept her eyes on Inuyasha's red kimono. If she couldn't see the darkness closing in around her, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

"Of course it's safe! You said you wanted a bath, didn't you? There's a creek right through here." He cut away some undergrowth with his claws, clearing away greenery that had grown onto the path.

Yes she wanted a bath, but not if it meant getting lost in the forest and possibly eaten alive by whatever was waiting for them around the next corner. She could feel a tickle on her leg as something scraped against her flesh and she unconsciously moved closer to Inuyasha.

"Inuyasha…" Whatever was on her leg was moving up to her knee. She turned her head to look at the back of her leg. Resting on her knee was a black, hairy beast about the size of her hand. One of its eight spindly legs reached forward toward her thigh, pulling itself higher.

"What is it now?" Inuyasha had also stopped. He stood looking inquisitively at the young miko.

Kagome choked down a scream as the bug made its way higher, beneath her skirt, but let it go when she felt tiny fangs insert themselves into her skin. She tried beating at her leg, but when she couldn't get it off; she shoved past Inuyasha and bolted down the path. She could hear the hanyou's light tread behind her and the familiar swish as Tetsusaiga was removed from its sheath, but her fear made her faster than her protector.

Finally, the trees broke and revealed a small, pristine creek breaking through the forest. Without bothering to shed her cloths, she dove in head first and began scraping at her legs to dislodge her antagonist. After several minutes of splashing, she relaxed against the bank, heaving.

Inuyasha had stopped at the water's edge and stood against a tree, staring at her with wide eyes, one eyebrow arched in question.

"There was a spider," Kagome said, a sheepish blush spreading across her cheeks.

The hanyou groaned. "Was that all, a little spider? The way you were screaming, I thought Naraku had come out to get us. Foolish girl."

Kagome fumed. How dare he mock her? She had been scared out of her wits! What if that spider had been poisonous or something? "Inuyasha?"

Her companion glanced up at her from his place by the tree. One look at her face made his eyes widen and he backed up a pace. "Kagome…"

"Sit boy!"

The trees spat her out, plunging her car into a manmade wasteland. The ruins of an old building lay scattered, huge chunks of iron and steel shoved out to the side like the walls of a crumbled fortress. Mingled with the remains was several canvas tents, flaps open to the late morning breeze. Within the circle, men and women swept in and out of holes, carrying everything from shovels and picks to large hunks of dark earth. It looked like the earth was gobbling them up, the holes serving as the ground's orifices in which an earthen demon took in nourishment. Many of the workers came out with scrapes and abrasions. Watching them, she wondered if it hurt when the ground bit them. They didn't seem to notice.

Kagome shifted the car into park and stepped out, her eyes seeking out someone who could help her find Professor Akitaki. As she crossed the barrier between the grove and the wasteland, she almost ran head-on into a worker coming out of a hole. The boy couldn't have been more than a junior in college, at best. He towered over Kagome, and despite the baggy t-shirt and shorts, she could tell that he had the body of a needle. Dirty blonde hair fell over his ears, hiding the headphones that diluted sound from the outside world. Kagome could hear the distinctive sound of rap music; the boy's head moved to the beat.

She stepped in front of him as he emerged fully from the ground. "Excuse me, could you tell me where Professor Akitaki is?"

The boy frowned, shifting the shovel he had slung over one shoulder. "What?" he said loudly, talking over music no one but him could hear.

Kagome pointed to the headphones and the boy, realizing the problem, reached for a knob on an mp3 player at his waist. The music lessened in volume and Kagome repeated what she had asked earlier.

"The professor? I think he's in the central unit. Found some interesting stuff in there the day before." He moved passed her and began walking toward the middle of the wasteland. Kagome followed. "I'm assuming you're the lady he's been waiting for." He glanced behind him and looked at her, trailing his eyes from her face down to her chest and slim waste. "Girlfriend?" he asked casually.

Kagome grunted and slowed her pace, putting more space between them. She began to wonder if maybe Miroku had been reincarnated. All she needed now was for this boy to ask her to bear his children. "No," she replied evenly. "And I'm not looking."

The boy shrugged, grinning slightly. "Too bad." They made it to the hole and Kagome looked down; she could barely see the bottom of it, like looking into the Bone Eater's Well. As with the workers, the earth swallowed up all light trying to pry its way through. It was another gap in time in and of itself.

"I'll get the professor," the boy said. He pointed to a large tent several yards away, relatively clear of workers. "Wait over there." The earth took him too.

There was nothing else to do but wait for Akitaki to join her, so she settled herself in the tent. Inside, rows of tables, covered in dirt encrusted white cloth—probably old bed sheets—lined the walls. Kagome felt her mouth go dry at the sight of the artifacts. Ignoring the few archeologists within the tent, she went over to the tables, running her fingers over what the ground had given up.

For a moment, she was back in the Feudal Era. Most everything back then was made out of wood, and yet, everything in front of her was almost perfectly preserved: old mortars and pestles, the framework to a door, scraps of cloth from a summer yukata, broken pieces of weaponry. It was like being in a museum, and yet, she could remember seeing a replica of every single piece in real life.

Time blurred together for Kagome. Her dark brown eyes drank in the mortar and pestle, the nearest artifact to her. She studied every smooth line carefully, watching the present until she could see a pair of hands coaxing the two parts, grinding something she couldn't see. Delicate hands, long fingers, thin, unwrinkled—feminine, but strong.

Kagome blinked. The mortar and pestle were lying on the table—still. For a moment, she thought she caught the smell of mint, but it was gone before she could get a full breath.

Then she saw them, resting on a table in the center alone. The rational part of her mind told her that she was delirious, that what she was seeing was impossible. Things from the past were meant to stay in the past, said the logical part of her brain. Things that are dead don't come back to life. Then again, she had stopped listening to that part of her consciousness when she fell through the Bone Eater's Well.

Two swords lay on top of the cloth, as pristine as they had been centuries ago. The two seemed an inseparable pair, resting hilt to hilt, sheaths lightly touching. Ironic that the two brothers who had wielded them were as separate as the sun from the moon. Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga—death and life. One the property of a hanyou, the other of a full-fledged demon lord. The lowest and the highest.

Kagome's vision blurred again and she half expected to see a familiar form rising from the mists of her memory again. And a familiar for did come—just not the one she expected.

The eyes appeared first, as if they were painted on the off-white canvas of the tent. Not dark yellow eyes, Inuyasha's eyes, but lighter ones, like sun-warmed honey; molten gold eyes. The almond shaped orbs were framed by a long face with sharp angles and a firm mouth. Spun snow fell from the head and draped over shoulder's covered in armor; not Inuyasha's silver. The figure in her mind's eye was tall, towering two heads over her. A long, billowing white pelt was draped over one shoulder. He was missing an arm. Her mind was showing her the demon lord.

But why him? Why not Inuyasha? I want to see him…

Suddenly, her hand started tingling, the flesh hyper sensitized. It was like every nerve in her fingers was excited. Kagome looked down in surprise. Her fingers were resting against the Tenseiga's hilt.

She wrenched her arm back with a gasp as the physical world came back at full force and stared at the swords accusingly. She searched her mind, but couldn't recall moving so close to table. Its end was still brushing up against her thigh. Within her chest, her heart was pounding. She could feel the pulse of it soaring through her body.

"Magnificent, aren't they?"

Kagome whirled around at the intrusion and hit her leg against the table. She mumbled a startled curse, wincing against the new pain blooming in her thigh. Her eyes were closed when a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to surprise you. Are you okay?" It was the same voice, but it was next to her ear now. She could feel someone's breath on her neck and involuntarily shivered. Another hand came to rest on her thigh, overtop of hers.

"I thought you saw us, Kagome. Should I get some ice?" The voice was male and a little hesitant. She recognized the tone, but she could not put a face or name with it. It was nice though. Very warm if a little unsure.

The hands were moved off of her and another set took their place. These pushed her into a chair and firmly set her down. "Don't be silly Hojo. It's just a bump, I don't think it's an emergency." This voice was female, light and airy with a strong hint of friendliness.

Kagome forced her eyes to open. Two faces loomed in front of her with identical looks of concern. Both had dark brown eyes framed by light brown hair. It took her a moment, but after several seconds of intense scrutiny, she recognized the man on her left.

It had not been long, but Hojo Akitaki looked older. His hair was longer, long enough that he could tie it back and only leave a few errant strands hanging in his face. A shadow of a beard touched his chin, tiny hairs barely breaking the surface, suggesting that they were due more to days without shaving than some sense of style. The face was dirtier too, smudged here and there with mud and soil. He was also wearing glasses, a pair of thin frames that rested precariously on his nose. Like his face, they were also covered in a thin layer of filth. Kagome didn't understand how he could possibly see through the lenses. Probably something one had to adjust to.

"Hojo, it's good to see you again," Kagome said. "It's been a long time."

The man stood up and pulled a lock of hair out of his face, revealing a blush that was just beginning to flood his cheeks. "Sorry I haven't kept in touch. I've been busy. The work here as been…" he stopped, struggling to find words, but finally settled for giving the tent a sweeping glance, spreading his arms out wide as if presenting a grand work of art. "Well, you can see for yourself. I have never seen anything like this, ever."

The woman she didn't know cracked a smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse him. When he's talking about his work, there is nothing else. It's his masterpiece."

"So I can see," Kagome replied, struggling not to release the chuckle that threatened to explode within her throat. He was definitely happy. The grin splitting his face was as blinding as the first break of daylight in the morning, the kind that woke a person up with blinks and squints. Hojo looked almost adorable like that, he always had. Her old friend had been attractive as a boy, but as a man—her heart was still beating too fast, but she couldn't tell whether it was from shock or from Hojo.

"I'm sorry," Hojo said, apologizing again, "I don't suppose you've met my little sister Midori, have you?"

Hojo's female companion bowed slightly, her brown hair falling into her face. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard a lot about you from my brother. I hope you are feeling better now than you did in high school. It seemed like you were always ill, Kagome. It gave Hojo great cause for concern."

"Ill…" Kagome's mind went blank. What did she mean ill? She had rarely been sick as a girl. Then it hit her—the excuses her grandfather had used to cover for her absence while she was in the feudal era during high school. While she was hunting jewel shards with Inuyasha, her grandfather told everyone that she was sick as an excuse for not attending school. I can't believe they even remember that… "Yes, I am much better now. I assure you, I've made a full recovery from everything that plagued me."

"That's good to hear," said Midori. "You have to take good care of yourself."

"Of course," Kagome replied stiffly, trying to catch Hojo's eye. The man was standing behind his sister, scratching his growing beard nervously with one hand. He was staring right at her, as if he had never seen her before in his life, and the intensity of his gaze was startling enough to make Kagome squirm. Her younger brother, Sota, had the same look on his face whenever he was looking at his girlfriend. It was admiring. But why would Hojo want to look at her that way? There was nothing special about her. The girl Kagome saw in the mirror everyday was as plain as any other face in the crowd.

Do you want him to look at you that way? Her mind prodded. Kagome couldn't decide. On the one hand, although Hojo had made it obvious to everyone that he had a crush on Kagome during high school, they hadn't seen each other in years. In a way, it was like they just met and no respectable woman would want a man to be thinking of her in such a way the first time he lays eyes on her. But on the other hand—he was staring as if he were looking at a goddess.

Midori cleared her throat, her focus turning from the woman in the chair to her brother and back again. When it was clear that neither was going to say anything, she stood up and addressed Hojo. "Why don't you tell Kagome how we came across the swords. I'm sure she'll be as fascinated as you are."

Hojo jumped and the hand at his chin fell to his side. He seized the bait. "Yes, of course." He moved over to a table and pulled up another chair, obviously feeling more confident sitting than standing. "It was Midori who found it actually, though I wish it had been me. She discovered them in the central site, them and a stature we're still excavating. To have found something this amazing is…" he shook his head. "I couldn't begin to describe it. Two swords from the Feudal Era, in almost perfect condition, though almost everything we've found so far seems to have been preserved just as well. You can only imagine what this will do for our studies on the Feudal Age."

So she'd noticed. Everything she had come across on the tables so far looked like it could have been made yesterday, though she knew very well that they were hundreds of years old. "Just how is that possible?" Kagome asked. "Even the wooden pieces are still nearly whole."

"I've asked that question myself thousands of times, but I can only reach one possible conclusion," Hojo paused and reached for a glass vial resting on a nearby table.

Kagome accepted the vial carefully and pulled out the stopper. She shook the contents into her hand; what came out was a dark gray, softer than soil with a chalky texture. "What…"

"Its ash," Midori said, watching as Kagome studied the substance. "The only possible explanation for the preservation is a volcano. During the excavation, we encountered mounds of this stuff. It covers everything. If a volcano had erupted, it is possible that the ash and lava preserved whatever it touched."

"Like a Japanese Pompeii," Kagome said, still bent over the ash.

"Sort of," Hojo continued. "However, it's not encrusted in it. Had this been a 'Japanese Pompeii,' there would have been so much ash and lava that the substance would have formed a mold around everything, and the wood would have still decayed inside. We would have imprints as opposed to the actual objects in most cases, although undoubtedly, some of the original substances would have been preserved, but…"

"…not everything that is buried," Kagome finished.

"Precisely."

Kagome let the conversation trail off. Something about this wasn't right. She wasn't an archeologist, but even she knew that nature did not do this on its own. And her hands were still tingling from where they came in contact with the Tenseiga's hilt. The entire situation was unnerving.

"So, why tell me about the swords," Kagome asked, thinking that it was past time for a change in subject.

The confident Hojo vanished and the man sunk into his chair as if trying to absorb himself into the wood. "Well, I read your book and when I saw the descriptions of Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga, I just thought…"

"You read my book?" That surprised her. Hojo Akitaki did not strike her as a fairytale enthusiast. She had always had him pinned as a logical, bookish type of person.

"I know, it's a little strange," Hojo said, as if he had read her thoughts, "but if you step back and look at the whole picture, it makes a lot of sense. Fairytales are tied with culture and reflect the beliefs of a people, who are inevitably tied to a country's history, which works hand in hand with archeology. Your novel, although a work of fiction, holds some element of historical truth."

If you only knew how much truth.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it and yes, I was pleased to see the two swords. It feels like my work as come to life," Kagome replied, and silently, again. Honestly, the whole situation made her want to stand up, go back to her car, drive home, and never step foot anywhere near the site again, but she couldn't tell him that.

Hojo must have been pleased with the comment because he rose from his chair and crossed the few feet towards the table holding the blades. He picked one of them up carefully, holding the weapon in his right hand, gripping the sheath just beneath the hilt. He held it out to her. "Would you like to hold one of them?"

Kagome was about to say no, recalling the reaction she had just minutes earlier, but she didn't have time to argue as Hojo placed the weapon in her hands without waiting for a reply. Tenseiga was placed against her bare flesh.

The electric feeling returned the second the hilt touched her skin. It was almost as if her hand had fallen asleep, it was the same tingly feeling, except the tingling was accompanied by warmth. The sword itself was—singing. She couldn't think of another word. She could feel it humming, the tone resonating against her skin. Chords washed through her, vibrating inside her body. It was like standing in front of a large pipe organ playing at fortissimo. The sword was reaching for something, but it didn't hurt, in fact, it felt good—relaxing. Something inside of her wanted it to find what it was looking for within her consciousness. It felt—happy. The world fell away and became a hazy purple, thrumming with power. She watched various shades of violet swirl together in the back of her eyes, mesmerized.

Kagome dropped the blade as if she had been burned and raised her hands to her face. They were glowing faintly. She frowned. My miko powers. I haven't felt them since the well closed. Why are they reacting to the Tenseiga?

"Kagome, are you okay?" Midori's face hovered in front of her. She had caught Tenseiga as it fell. "You look a little pale, perhaps you should rest."

"I'm fine, just a little tired. Please don't worry."

"Kagome, I think she's right," Hojo appeared behind his sister. "You've never been very healthy and…"

Hojo didn't have time to finish his statement. The flap to the tent was roughly thrust aside and one of the workers came through. His eyes were wide and his face looked paler than alabaster. From where she sat, Kagome could see that the hand resting on the canvas door was trembling. "Professor Akitaki, you need to come to the main site now! Something's happened. Please." The voice was panicked, wild.

The worker didn't wait for a reply. He left the tent with Hojo on his heels. Kagome followed them to the hole at the center of the camp where the remainder of the excavation team was gathered, the recent emergence of her miko powers pushed to the back of her mind.

She leaned over the edge and gasped. The bottom of the hole was covered in blood. From the smell of it, the blood was still warm. The earth was soaking it up slowly, taking it all in with great thirst. Around her, Kagome could hear voices shouting in desperation. Above the roar, Midori and Hojo were giving orders, calling for an ambulance, although anyone could see medics would be useless.

Two dead faces stared up at her. One she didn't know, but the other was the boy who had helped her find Hojo earlier. His hair was now dyed red and she could no longer see the color of his eyes; they were rolled up into their sockets. His headphones were miraculously still there, smashed against his ears and embedded into the skin, but whole. Both victims' mouths were open, but she couldn't recall hearing anything from within the tent earlier. Neither victim had time to scream.

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AN: I was going to put more in here, but I think that's enough for one chapter. Sesshoumaru will appear in the next one. Also, I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I was working on a project for school, so I didn't have time to write. This chapter was a bit rushed. Till the next update, please, please, please take some time to review! I love criticism.