The Nail Clicking Fiend

I was unconscious…this much I was sure of at the very least. Maybe I'd finally frazzled my brain out and died, strangely enough the thought was not discomforting, more so the opposite. I noted my floating location, as though gravity had lost itself among the inner walls of my subconscious, my own drifting thought process serving to confuse me far more than I'd ever thought to have been. Perhaps it was this realization that commenced a great falling sensation, I plummeting toward nothing at all, soon the darkness clearing, forming plumes of black smoke, wafting through the air like the drifting seeds from a dandelion. The stench of burning flesh and decaying corpses ran havoc on my nerves, spiraling down with me through the air. My arms rose up as I dashed downward, my back toward the place of impact, sulfur attacking my senses, my eyes watering, I pondering what it was now that I held in my hand.

Feathers? Have I struck a bird?

My body began to ache with such an unbearable agony that it was all I could do to retreat into the back of my mind, hoping to all that was good in the world that I would survive this mental trial. I bit my bleeding lips, and was suddenly overcome by a wave of despair, my head falling backward until I could stare up at the smoking sky of fire above me, its oranges and reds splayed out across its surface like a watercolor painting, how ironic that such soft colors could bite and burn with such an unseen intensity. My lips parted and all I could do was breath in smoke, coughing and hacking uncontrollably, my lungs blazing with the dry heat that assaulted them.

As I careened down into an endless abyss of curses and screams my goals began to change, desperately trying to fight the strongest force in the universe for all I was worth, knowing full well that gravity would never let its clutches go. A million equations fought with each other in my mind, all wanting to be the reason I'd stop my useless flailing and give in.

I want to be a physicist, and here I am trying to defy the very law I seek to prove.

With this somewhat acrid thought eating at my sanity I ceased my movements and let myself fall, giving in to my inevitable demise. A blur of scenery passed my sight, blacks and browns, reds and oranges, bubbling and sinking and flowing until it was all mixed together in a mass of vertigo. The impact I felt should have flung my limbs from my body, or at least crush my bones to powder but they didn't, allowing me a few more seconds of consciousness in my unconscious state to read a sign over a dark rot iron gateway, the words scrawled across in a jagged script, as though the claws of some terrible beast had cut them there.

"Through me is the way into the woeful city;

through me is the way into eternal woe;

through me is the way among the lost people.

Justice moved my lofty maker:

divine Power, The supreme Wisdom and primal Love made me.

Before me were no things created, save eternal, and I eternal last.

ALL HOPE ABANDON, YE WHO ENTER IN!"-1

Sesshomaru looked at the girl on the ground, staring down at his hand where in lay the necklace, still strewn about her throat as it were. Slowly, he could feel it growing hot in his palm, as though it disliked being confined to the calloused encasement, his eyes glaring down at it, as though it posed him with a challenge. The great demon could feel it burn him, his eyes widening when it started to melt his skin and draw his blood, ripping it away from his palm by the ugly black chain it was attached too. Snarling he glowered down at it, eyes tinged red with fury, pondering how such a small implement could inflict such pain as its bloodied design now lay pressed against the skin of her throat.

He'd watched her fall back to the ground after her small spill out of the tree earlier, irritated with the young girl for her ridiculous antics, cursing her clumsy behavior. She now had a concussion that much was obvious, and in her subconscious state uttered a few words that were either of her mother tongue or unintelligible curses, whichever they were, Sesshomaru could not decipher. He caught the staggering rise and fall of her chest, nearly frowning but stopping the expression from gracing his flawless face.

I must get her inside.

Growling inaudibly in the back of his throat, the taiyokai no tashi bent down and scooped her up in his arms, deciding that, were anybody to see them, he certainly didn't wish them to witness him hauling her over his shoulder. Her body was cold, another clue as to her state of health which slightly worried the lord.

My political survival rests on her, if she dies…

Sesshomaru didn't even want to think about what would happen to him, almost shuddering at the thought…almost. He glanced down at her face, the pallor of it increasing, head tilted out of his grasp. This time the inu yokai frowned ever so slightly, glancing at her neck, and the feel of her body against him.

Disgusting. She's become so thin her Trachea is visible against her skin.

Shaking his head he realized without guilt that he hadn't fed her correctly at all, and with her running from him earlier…it wasn't a wonder why she was so thin and slightly uncomfortable to hold. For a woman, he noted, she was very tall (between 5'8 and 5'9), but she seemed so slender it gave her the appearance of being even taller. As he strode toward the inside of his keep, he began to shift her in his arms, so as not to let her head fall about. His irritation grew with her as she squirmed a bit in her unconscious state…yet to his surprise it was not in attempts to get away, but as though she were trying to get closer.

She's cold…she's always cold.

He let her do as she pleased, slightly amused by this strange turn of events.

It is not that she does not like touching people…she believes they wish not to.

Sesshomaru looked down, baffled by the curious creature in his arms, yet vowing he would never let it show. He stepped upon the eniguwa and turning, clawed the shoji open, stepping through. The great demon graced the halls quietly, no servants visible as he'd told them to keep from sight, holding onto his prisoner tighter as though fearing she'd wake and run.

It is all she does…run…from everything. It's almost cowardly.

He glanced down at her calm face, as tranquil as he'd ever seen her, a small upward tilt coming to his mouth in a half smirk at the irony that she could only be peaceful if she'd lost her consciousness…if she wasn't capable of thought. He turned his attention at the cedar flooring, the two steps protruding from the higher platform well lacquered. The deep blue and green paper lanterns did not show with their glorious glow in the morning light, though the suns rays did seem to filter through them, causing splotches of their various tinted color to appear against the white of the shoji, or golden brown of the wood.

As he approached his room he listened carefully for any movement from the inside, remembering faintly an incident three years ago where one of his advisors had turned on him, deciding to assassinate him as he retired for the night. He refused to let the anger of the event overcome him at the moment, choosing to instead concentrate on what lay within his arms, once inside his quarters placing her upon the futon, already made, a servant having rolled it out. Sesshomaru wasn't stupid; he knew of the eyes that lurked within every corner of his keep, the service always watching, ready to be useful at any given moment.

Unfortunately that means I am not capable of anything without it being known…though I have made it clear that they must take their leave from my location at all times.

The creature let out a small agonized moan in her sleep, her breathing becoming frenzied, her fear radiating off of her forcefully. This brought a barely visible scowl to his face; along with the bleeding cut on the side of her cheek bone. The demon man looked upon her with such annoyance it defied all reason.

Must she be so…so…

Sesshomaru couldn't even begin to think of a word to describe such idiocy, opting to silently and expressionlessly stew over her flaws. He took note that, if she had a small slice across her face than someone would notice and wonder why he himself hadn't fixed it. So, almost reluctantly, the taiyokai leaned over her, the scent of her blood making him dizzy once more, placing his lips upon her soft skin, and running his tongue over the scratch.

Kami-sama, I feel…

He hadn't really concentrated on the affect drinking in her blood could give him, remembering only slightly that he'd woken up with a bad headache the morning after he'd done so. His senses were knocked from him, not unpleasantly, but still, the thought of losing control of his actions tended to annoy. Sesshomaru had gotten drunk in his life a grand total of three times. When his mother committed suicide, when his father died, and when Inuyasha had severed his arm from his body, and all three times the great demon had loathed. He'd hated the way he'd lost himself, done things he usually wouldn't do (none of which he'll ever tell), but mostly he hated the whirring affect it had on his mind…hated it and loved it, needing it in those horrible moments of his life.

And as he leaned over her, letting the red liquid flow over his tongue, he felt his heart beat erratically, slow then fast, as if it couldn't settle on which was more appropriate. The taste of her blood was sweet and almost tart at the same time, interlaced with rich spices, strangely addicting. The sensation was gone in four seconds as the wound heeled, the spinning ceasing, almost feeling his golden irises contract on his dilated pupils.

He slowly released the pressure, sitting back, trying to regain some of his previous thoughts, cursing himself to never do that again for the reviling affect it had on him. He looked down while settling on his heels with a start (or as startled as Sesshomaru can be considering he'll never actually show it), stomach nearly sinking as he saw the creature's green wide eyes emanating a swirl of confusion and fear, caught in between indignation and embarrassment.

She propped herself up on her right hand, scooting back from him hastily, touching her left hand to her cheek, considerably surprised. But what Sesshomaru really enjoyed, was the face, flushed a deep cherry red, so ridiculous it nearly made him want to smile.

On the upside of things, she never ceases to amuse.

"Anou(um)…I think its safe to say I'm missin' something." She spoke in that strange voice of hers, almost androgynous but still holding an odd feminine quality.

"You are missing many things onna, to ask this Sesshomaru to name one specifically is asking too much." The demon spoke almost apathetically, though with a cynical bite to his tone.

"What can I say; we have a lot in common." She sneered back at him.

His eyes flashed dangerously at her, before he calmed his fury, standing up and striding toward his wardrobe, opening it carefully as he always did so as not to claw the furnishing from its surface. He rifled through it, ignoring her question of what he was doing, and came upon not exactly what he was looking for, but something that would have to do. He'd been physically around her age, maybe a couple of years younger, and had worn this garment to his father's funeral. It was exactly like what he now wore, save it was smaller, and black instead of white-though the patterns were the same. The properties of the clothing were the same as well; couldn't be burned, couldn't be melted, couldn't be ripped.

He threw it to her, watching as her arms lashed out and she caught it reflexively. The creature stared at it, unfolding the clothing, and marveling at it, a rather satisfied look upon her face, muttering, "Pants." In her strange native language. Uttering a word of thanks to him she proceeded to take off the outer layers of her clothing, leaving the deep blue yukata she had on beneath as she slipped on the haori and hakama he'd given to her. Grinning, she tied the obi in a simple knot, folding her arms in front of her and staring at him happily, a small grin on her face.

"It cannot be destroyed so it offers you far more protection then your previous garments…if that's what they were." He almost snorted at the thought of the disgusting rough attire that adorned her before.

She just nodded at him, turning her face away quickly, obviously more uncomfortable around him because of his earlier action. He felt he needed to explain himself for it, before reminding himself he was Sesshomaru, the great demon lord of the west, of whom didn't answer to anyone. His eyes wandered over her appearance, slightly amused by the way the cloths fit her; awkwardly, but none the less matching her demeanor.

She looks creepy, and the clothes don't help to reject it.

"What?" She demanded an explanation.

"Nanemo (nothing)." He coughed before looking into her eyes, continuing, "We need leave to find the annoyance that dare share his blood with me."

A small silence came, but just as abruptly left.

"Any brother of yours…it'll be interestin' to see how he turned out." Her voice was nearly mocking.

"So it shall…" the demon spoke just to see her reaction, merely sounding as though he uttered these words for his ears only, giving her an almost distrusting look before continuing, "Follow me."

And out they both went.

"M'Lady!" A young kitsune skittered toward his master's hostage, staring at the demoness in a mixture of fear and awe.

The woman slowly turned from the windowsill she leaned against, her silhouette seen from behind the shoji door between the two. Her outline was fuzzy, but nothing to the young demon could be clearer, spotting her feminineform and knowing her to be beautiful. Such a shame, he thought, that his master merely kept her shut up in the west wing, wondering why he did not attempt at wooing the beautiful mistress.

The fox knew the rules, he was not to enter, and he already understood how dangerous merely relaying information to her was. Her voice sounded of winter, gorgeously frozen, like the crystals of icicles, the pure and white of a frostbitten night, "Hai, kitsune?"

Her acknowledgement brought chills down his spine though the day was warm and the sun brightly shining; the soft-spoken words echoing in his heart, calling him to enter her presence. He managed to control himself, settling his nerves as he spoke back, "I bring w-word of the Western Demon lord a-as you asked."

He caught the dark figure stiffen, and could feel her attention as though it were tangible, touch him gently as though to draw out his news, "Hai?"

The demon tried hard not to stutter, suddenly embarrassed by his youth and inexperience speaking to women, "A-anou…Sesshomaru-sama has l-left his territory and travels south, leaving a kitsune behind with the g-guise of himself."

"And?" the voice queried with interest.

"W-we believe he is in the c-company of a y-young maiden…a foreigner who claims to have traversed the e-eastern sea."

"Do you know anything of this maiden?" The sound from the room was cold, yet filled with glee, as though waiting for a response she already knew the answer to.

"N-no."

"What?" The voice turned hideous and sharp, now angered and lethal.

"W-we d-d-don't kn-now what sh-she is." The young demon was now terrified.

He could see the silhouette stand, and it lashed its hand out in a gesture to leave, commanding, "Mark my words, should you come back without knowing so much as her favorite position your head will roll! Now get out!"

With that, the young kitsune scuttled away, the voice behind the door speaking quietly while settling herself back down by the window, the gentle wind whipping through several loose locks of hair, "I am the only woman who shall love my son…and I am the only one who shall destroy him."

And thus throughout the corridor, a tinkling, maniacal giggle could be heard, like the sound of clinking ice mixed with the unpredictability of falling snow, darkened by the shadows of night cast down from a full moon. Tainted, cold, unforgiving, the Lady of Tsuto tore away the last of her sanity, readying herself for the inevitable arrival of her only son, Sesshomaru.

The clicking wouldn't stop…he had told her to cut it out but she wouldn't cease.

Click

Click.

Click click.

I will not repeat myself…but if she does not stop I fear I will kill her

It was her nails, the human equivalent to claws as Sesshomaru understood it, and when he told her to stop she had done so, only to forget and obliviously continue. He wasn't going to scream at her, the great demon lord knew a lost cause when he saw one. If one could withstand such annoyances the yokai would have actually lowered his head in reverence for not even a man with the patience of Buddha could ignore this continuous irritation.

Sesshomaru walked through the dense forest and half-mindedly began to pick the girl's flaws apart in his brain. As he did this, he of course, restrained himself from twitching uncontrollably; an urge of which was becoming as unrelenting as the one he now possessed to kill the nail-clicking fiend.

1.The clicking of the nails (she must die for it).

2.The restless fidgeting.

3.The clicking of the katana popping from the saya (sheath) and then back in again.

4.The tongue running over her incisors (the sound gave him the chills).

5.The utter obliviousness to his directions.

6.The naïve objectivity of her personality, as though she believed everything could be solved like a mathematics problem, not comprehending emotion beyond irritation, surprise, sorrow, curiosity and confusion.

7.The way she looked at him in general bugged him. Her creepiness…in was the damn creepiness.

8.Her literally intoxicating scent that gave him headache after headache like the worst hangover to ever grace even the most tolerant of men.

9.Her pride.

10.Again her pride just because he really didn't like that about her.

11.The cracking of her joints…only males should do that, on a female it is unseemly.

12.The SLOUCHING! He couldn't bare it! Why couldn't she just stand up straight like she had when pretending to be in his favor!

13.The deafening silence between them. Sesshomaru knew he should find it comforting but it only added to the affect that she was the creepiest being in existence. It was so terribly uncomfortable. And the worst part was she didn't even seem to mind.

Click click.

Click.

Click click.

His mind berated him, desperately trying to defend itself for what he now believed to be the mistake of taking her into his very fragile trust. There were a few good things about her…right?

1.Intellect, she had that and it could not be denied.

2.Agility…for someone of her…whatever she was, he realized that most of her traits were human like as were many of her limits, thus by this degree she was incredibly fast and rather supple, choosing to bend and twist instead of allowing something to strike and break upon her.

3.She was extremely good at acting.

Click.

Click click.

Click click.

4.…Kami-sama he couldn't think of anything else, the clicking was bad enough to cancel out whatever good qualities she contained!

Sesshomaru was now ready to snap her fingers off.

He cast a quick look over his shoulder to stare at her, turning back to the beaten path before them as it trailed off into underbrush, his boot clad feet picking up the pace slightly. The great demon lord began to debate on whether or not she was beautiful, deciding that she was, but continually wondering why. At first glance she'd probably been the ugliest scrawniest thing he'd ever seen but when she chose to…

Ethereal, it was the best he could describe her.

Her features weren't very feminine, nor were they masculine in the slightest, they seemed completely and totally androgynous to him (A/N: Note that Sesshomaru has never seen a foreigner besides those from China) but they held such strange appeal both artistically, and just recently he realized, sexually.

However, the fact remained that he absolutely couldn't stand her, and, he took note of this and set a personal goal, it would be a miracle if, after their traverse across this forest, he didn't kill her.

Click click.

Click.

Click.

Sesshomaru twitched…there truly was only so much of this a demon could take.

Marisol's POV

At the moment I didn't know what the hell I was doing…despite that being my normal state of orientation, however ferociously I've fought with my companion to prove otherwise. To start of at the beginning the overgrown brat and I left his fief, him bestowing upon me a sword that apparently 'cuts through almost anything' after feeding me a variety of very tasteless food that I hadn't recognized and was pretty sure contained some type of medicinal value. I trudged through the forest with him, the light of the early afternoon streaming through the trees, nearly blinding me, my sunglasses only gawd knows where. I could feel the underbrush stab at my feet, cold and damp, my luck just begging me to step in poison ivy.

At one point I almost thought I saw him twitch, curious as to whether or not the silence bothered him…it never bothered me, but I knew I wasn't like most people in that respect, speaking really really wasn't my thing. As I watched his fluid walk ahead of me, trying to mimic it, yet never getting rid of the slither (as my mother used to call it) I maintain, I made a pretty lame attempt at being civil, questioning, "What's your favorite color?"

I almost screamed at myself, wondering what the hell I was thinking. The thought of actually holding up a non-violent, halfway interesting conversation with the scary demon person two meters away was as unfathomable as jumping off a cliff and flying; it just wouldn't ever happen. But more importantly, what the hell made me even consider I was socially adept enough to actually make an attempt at it with anyone, especially him?

He stopped, and turned around, staring me down with those golden eyes, so warm in color yet so cold in nature, asking me without a hint to his emotional state, "Why?"

"Umm…" I let slip, fidgeting, face heating up like a hot coal.

Wow.

Awkward. -.-;

"A word of wisdom onna," He stated sharply, "Think before speaking."

I just smiled like an antique doll, the creepy kind you see in your grandmother's house, hoping to everything good in this world that he wouldn't say anything else, feeling my chest begin to constrict, my body going cold, and that odd sensation of anxiety well up in the pit of my twisting stomach. As two people were, we could not be anymore incompatible…hell, the only time I could get an intelligible sentence out of my mouth was when I was insulting him.

Something felt wrong; I hadn't been myself since I'd woken up after that terrible dream, the vision of Dante Alighieri's gateway to hell(1) still burned into my retinas as it melted away into…. My face heated at the thought of my wake up call. There must've been a reason for him doing that, he wasn't a very whimsical guy here, though it wasn't like he couldn't afford to be; with that amount of strength he could do whatever he damn well pleased. I sighed to myself as he turned around, and I began to follow him in a subdued manner, a bit like a beaten dog, much to my irritation.

I felt more than emotional fatigue. Shaking my head I decided to stop letting my feelings or impulses get in the way. Objectivism was so much easier.

He 'kissed' my cheek for some reason, obviously a good one, thus there's none that I should feel anything for it. It happened, it's done, it won't happen again. It all fits into a nice little equation, perfect, with only a few variables. It was something I wouldn't attempt at solving either, though that was the case in most situations. On an over all I supposed I could let go of it, pass it off as nothing, but it kept lingering in the back of my mind, not so much the emotional confusion it caused but the curiosity for his reasoning on it.

There are very few reasons for a kiss, human or otherwise.

Affection- him? Out of the question.

Next.

Lust-…um…uuukay, no. I'm pretty sure he isn't into the scrawny, 'creature' type.

Next.

Curiosity- dog, not a cat.

Next.

Manipulation-…a possibility, but not even he's that cruel...right?

…Are there any other reasons? Well, reasonable under these particular circumstances? There was a variable to this equation missing and I didn't like it. I take pride in being smart in general, though I was willing to learn things from those I'd deemed particularly dense. However many times I'd been called the latter, I never completely gave up on the notion that I was intelligent, though I will admit I am quite senseless. I don't mean to be intentionally, my anti-social behavior mainly plays a major roll in my comprehension of society.

I watched him carefully, following him with an almost sinking dread welling up inside my soul, as though he'd turn about and take my head off if I spoke another word. That was just as well anyhow, I didn't like talking and my incompetent attempts at it were all but satisfactory to the demon. I was feeling close to no discomfort until I noticed the glances he'd cast at me, evanescent as they were, noting that one only did so to keep an eye on the other. I believe he was making sure I wouldn't wander off, the prospect of pissing his already bitchy self off only creating a more alluring feel every time I thought of it.

"Maru-dono?" I questioned.

He remained silent, something I'd now come to learn as his way of showing he was listening.

"We've been walkin' fer close ta four hours…where the hell're we goin?"

He spun around and glared at me seething, "You dare question this Sesshomaru?"

His eyes were flaring a beautiful red, lips curling back into a hideous snarl, the contrast between the two so strange it nearly shocked me still. I frowned at this, looking up at him and answering frankly, "Yeah."

The glowing sanguine faded from his eyes, and the snarl was swept from his lips and replaced with a thin line, his expression almost unreadable, though I'd noticed, as he'd changed from infuriated to apathetic, the slight confusion on his face. He just stared at me, most likely puzzling over the significance of my answer, though I couldn't be certain, for he expressed it not; though, all logical reason lead to this conclusion.

"Somethin' the matter?" I queried.

"What is the meaning of such honesty?" His voice came out in a tone of slight suspicion.

I just quirked at eyebrow at him before putting on a façade of thought fullness, overly exaggerated, and pretty sarcastic for even someone as myself, turning away in feigned perplexity, "Hmm…I dunno, man. But-and I'm just goin' out on a limb here- it might be 'cause you can sense whether or not I'm lyin'…kind of defeats the purpose of deceit there…no real point in trying."

My eyes had rolled from their skyward position to land on his emotionless face, wondering how pissed he'd be this time. However, to my surprise, I saw his lips twitch a little…

Kinda upward.

"Your logic is flawless." He replied…was I imagining the mocking amusement in his eyes.

To that I pretended to bristle with indignation, walking over to him as he had turned to keep striding in our direction before this small interlude, "My dear sir, it is not a matter of logic but of dignity and honor!" Continuing, I stepped right in front of him, backing up as he persisted to move forward, folding my arms in front of my chest and speaking with a feigned stuck-up sort of behavior, "This Himawari never lies."

I then turned in the direction we were walking with a 'humph', my now loosely braided hair whipped up at the force of my about face, unfortunately giving him significant leverage to yank me off my feet. I was now sprawled out on the forest floor, staring up at the streaming rays of light peering through the dense overhang of leaves. He now stood up straight at my left side, his face eclipsing the sun giving him an ethereal glow. I caught thenear grin on his face, and oddly enough, his eyes were easier read in the intense lighting; I realizing that, on the inside, whatever emotion he felt now was either new to him or extremely intense.

For the first time his smirk wasn't sadistic or sneering, my mind not able to evaluate this correctly due to lacking information on the subject of observation. His voice was filled with something I could not recognize…though I dare say, it sounded a bit like a laugh.

"Don't walk in front of me, Himawari. You don't know where you're goin'."

He turned away and strode from my line of vision, leaving me with my mismatched thoughts stunned out of coherent thinking. But, soon collecting my bearings I sat up straight and blurted out, "Well whose fault is 'zat?"

He didn't even listen to me, merely stepped over the underbrush gracefully and headed in the direction of our unknown destination. Befuddled, I began to wonder on his choice of words, noting that he'd used my name with out being forced and did not refer to himself as 'this Sesshomaru'. He'd also used contractions…

He'd been mocking me.

You started it.

"M-maru-dono, wait up!" I shouted, stumbling after him, noting that he purposefully sped up his pace.

General POV

Sesshomaru picked up his pace a bit, inwardly smirking as she blundered into the thicker brush after him. He nearly scowled at himself, as the picture of her sarcastic comment and her mockery of his own sayings entered his mind, replaying the event to keep him amused. On all accounts it didn't make sense; he should have been pissed with her blatant travesty of his code, but the way she did it…

He hated the way humans lied; it made him wish to slice them to ribbons, causing him to do so on multiple occasions. He disliked the way fear or greed guided their every decision. He especially loathed the manipulation women would use to gain what they wanted, human or demon, choosing seduction to maneuver men into any situation they wished. He knew when they attempted deception, could spot their conniving plot the moment they open their painted lips to speak.

But this one was too smart to waste her time on superficial trickery.

Besides which, honesty suited her purpose better, knowing that she believed him incapable of trusting her in the first place. It was interesting, how she understood that even with her condor he would not think of placing any type of confidence in her.

However now was not the time to be wasted on such trivial musings, for he could smell her in the wind near by. Following her scent he made his way to a clearing looking up to see the feather dancing about above his head, traveling an air current whimsically, waiting for his arrival. The girl behind him tumbled out into the medow, bumping her head into his armor, successfully grounding her. She sat up and clutched her head, muttering about what a complete and total asshole he was.

The great demon ignored the creature and awaited the speedy landing of the other party.

Kagura leapt down from her feather, Kohaku following suit, so that whence it landed he was not stepping on the miniature form of it.

"Hello there Lord Sesshomaru." Kagura greeted in her low sultry voice, smiling in her normal sly manner.

"Kagura." Was all the Taiyokai responded with, listening to the creature behind him scramble to her feet.

Usually the wind sorceress would have kept her distance from him but not today; the demon lord had called her to this clandestine meeting, of which Naraku obviously knew of but could do nothing about…it was, after all, the night of the new moon.

How unfortunate, She mused to herself, that Inuyasha's date of weakness must fall on the same night.

"I assume there is a reason you contacted me." Kagura announced with an almost cruel smile as she approached him, "I doubt it was to show off that ugly little accessory behind you."

Marisol's face went red with indigence but, to Sesshomaru's surprise, she did not react with a snide comment of her own. He did not turn around, choosing to ignore the demoness' rudeness all together.

"The last jewel shard." Sesshomaru commanded.

Kagura's red/pink eyes narrowed as she spoke, "It was at your father's grave, remember?"

"I do not speak of this." Sesshomaru stared down at her expressionlessly before turning his gleaming golden eyes on Kohaku, "I speak of that one."

"Oh ho," the wind sorceress laughed humorlessly, "Sesshomaru, Kohaku dies if that shard is removed."

"Well then he has a problem doesn't he?" the great demon of the west enquired tonelessly, continuing, "Though, it concerns me not."

"What're you doing Maru-dono…you're not gonna hurt him…right?" The creature queried, now apprehensive for the child.

Kohaku, of who had already been on the defensive, holding his chain and scythe in his right, could not hope to match the speed of Sesshomaru, flinging it at the demon lord in a last attempt to save himself.

"Dance of Blades!" Kagura shrieked, a reaction to the taiyokai's advance on the boy.

Sesshomaru spun out of the way gracefully, eyes widening slightly as he saw the idiot creature cover her head with her arms as she dove and rolled through the slicing wind, the translucent blades severing the chain from the Kohaku's weapon. Protected by the naturally armored clothing he'd given her, Marisol's only cut consisted of three inches off her lengthy hair, the girl getting up and standing in front of the ex-demon slayer, arms spread out, feet mirroring the width of her shoulders, a living breathing shield.

Amazingly this all occurred over the course of 6 seconds.

Sesshomaru was upon the girl and boy in less than a second, snarling angrily at the creature, "Get out of the way."

"Make me."

Sesshomaru stared at her, listening to Kagura begin her next attack, answering quickly, "As you wish."

With that he picked up the creature and flung her at the demoness, listening to Kagura cut off her 'Dance of the Dragon' right at 'Dra', the impact forcing both to the ground.

Kohaku stood stone still, knowing it was useless to run from the demon lord. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as Sesshomaru stepped forward, the poor boy's chocolate brown eyes widening with terror and awe as the lord of the west looked down upon him,demonic orbsgleaming with a flash of red bloodlust before returning to gold. During that moment of sanguine fury Sesshomaru struck. Kohaku attempted a scream but it was caught in his throat as it began to fill with blood and saliva, the same blood that coated the taiyokai's claws, the acid that had burned through the boy's skin slightly cauterizing the wound allowing a second or three to the boy's life.

Kohaku's pupils dilated as he stared up at his murderer, tears welling in his eyes, searching the face for some type of remorse, knowing he would find none. His brain began to fire useless signals and all he could concentrate on was the magenta upon the upper lids of the demon lord's eyes, his sisters face appearing in his minds eye, the pink reminding him of that of which she wore upon her lids. Memories flew up and all Kohaku could feel was the pain and sorrow of what he'd done, the mass killing of his demon slayers squad, his village gone, and the massacre of many others at his hand. Suddenly it was not the lord of the west staring down upon him but the face of his sister Sango.

"Nee-san…gomen nasai…" Kohaku's eyes fluttered shut for what seemed to be the final time…

To be continued…

1. This is the sign above the gateway into hell.

2.Kohaku says "Sister, I'm sorry."

Gomen Nasai! I am so sorry! I have neglected my duty to update very muchly so T.T. My computer was wiped clean after it malfunctioned, thus this entire chapter was erased…and my memory…where am I? Ah, wait no! I know where I am! I am about to thank all my reviewers very muchly so! Review Onegai shimasu (Please)!