Every Time

Chapter 12: Tangles

You'll all probably wondering where I disappeared to in concerns of this fic. Well, a lot of stuff happened. Sorry about the wait.

Thanks very much to Parsnip-san for beta-ing. You rule. And yes, I can picture Naraku playing Monopoly.

blusorami – No, Naraku will not be raping Sango. I think I considered that at one point, but definitely not. Nope, he's just being scary.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

Her eyes bored into him, two sharp reminders of something he'd buried inside of him.

Please, tell me!

"Kohaku?"

Tell me who I am!

Her hands were on his shoulders and she could feel him shaking, skin cold to the touch. Dead. And yet his shackled soul could still be seen in his eyes, in his expression, that innocence he'd once had. To her, it seemed impossible that he'd lost it.

"Kohaku?" she said again, and he became aware of the tears falling down his cheeks.

Who are you? Who are you to me?

"Sango," came the monk's worried voice, "what's going on?"

The boy studied her face, both inattentive to anything else happening around them. She counted each freckle, each in the exact same place it'd been before, and he gazed at every detail of her face, feeling both a flutter in his chest and a nauseating lurch deep within his stomach at once.

"Tell me…" he choked out again, and she nodded, sinking to her knees. He went down with her, like a limp rag doll, and the monk looked nervously in their direction.

"Sango?"

"It's okay…" she whispered, but to whom this was directed was unconfirmed. Miroku sat, knowing he could do nothing else aside from listen and provide assistance if asked.

Pain erupted inside of his head and it felt like his heartstrings would snap from the guilt weighing them downbut Kohaku kept pushing. The thoughts and half-memories had been bothering him, to the point where he could no longer think straight. He was going insane, and he couldn't stop it.

But maybe she could.

He closed his eyes, and let her soft voice trickle into his ear.

o

Kagura tried her best to keep that smug little smirk off her face, but sometimes she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but feel rather pleased with herself, having been able to gain Sango's trust and form an alliance of sorts. It had been a miracle that the slayer had even believed her! Sure, they weren't exactly near the end of things, but it was a hell of a lot closer than she had been, seeing as Sesshou-maru refused to be of any service to her previously.

Eyes stuck in a glare directed at the floorboards, she paced around the room in tight ovals, lips pressed against one another in thought. Even so, the smirk would return every now and then, and she would enjoy it for a while, imagining it was Naraku she was stepping on, and then dismiss it go back to what she was doing. She was trying to formulate a plan of sorts. She figured it couldn't be too hard; Naraku did it all the time. Then again, that was all he ever seemed to do, obsessing over his enemies and moving them around like figurines in a board game.

He already suspected her. The element of surprise was almost gone, and she doubted he would let her in on his plans for the taijiya and the houshi.

Biting her lip a little harder, she stalked over to the doorway. The stuffy air was doing her no good; she needed the fresh air of the world outside Naraku's prison. She started down the hallfingering the feather in her hair.

She knew how much her master liked the desperate song of a caged bird.

o

"There used to be a village tucked in the mountains in which there lived a clan of demon slayers. There were quite a few of them, and all had been training since when they were small children. Two were barely adults, yet they fought strongly."

Sango smiled fondly, though her eyes looked far-off. Miroku winced at the falters in her voice, sitting quietly by the wall while Sango held Kohaku next to her so his temple rested against her shoulder. The boy trembled, staring intently up at her.

"Those two," she continued, bringing one hand to his nose, "were you and I. Kohaku and Sango. Our father was the head of the village, and the leader of the demon slayers. He loved us. In the summer we ate peaches with him, do you remember? You tried to feed some to Kirara, but he wouldn't let you. He laughed about it afterwards though."

Kohaku nodded and swallowed, clearing his throat. He could feel the barriers in his mind beginning to loosen, and little things were coming through. They seemed so familiar, and he was so happy to have them back. But…

Sango's hand moved to his hand, opening his palm and tracing the thin white line across it. "This scar here. You got it training that one day. You tried so hard to please father."

"I…remember that… I think…" Kohaku felt himself tremble, his head warm and fuzzy, vertigo setting in. Sango stroked his back gently, though her chest hurt with anxiety and fear of what inevitably had to happen. She couldn't back out now. It had to be done. The little girl in her tried to be stubborn and unreasonable, and believe that somehow she could fix everything; that somehow her village could be resurrected, and they could create more memories. She felt like she had too few.

The harsh truth, though, was that she couldn't. It wasn't any fault on her part. Death was death, and there was no way to change that. Kohaku wasn't alive. He was a slave, a mindless puppet. Sango couldn't let him remain that way!

She knew it would hurt him, but… she had to give him back himself.

"The next day, you came on your first mission with us," she began uneasily, glancing down at her brother. Her eyebrows furrowed as she caught his worried expression, as if he could sense something that was wrong. "Kohaku?"

"I'm listening," he whispered, eyes wide. He was remembering, now. The castle was beautiful, and old…

"…but the Lord was pretty ugly. We were getting rid of a demon. Big, but nothing special. You helped, Kohaku, and you were excellent. I know father was proud of you…" Sango continued, her voice growing very faint. In her head, she could hear the eventsof that nightso loudly it felt as if her head might burst. No matter how many times she relived it in her head, it never grew any less disturbing. She squeezed her brother's shoulder gently. "Then… Kohaku…"

Miroku felt sickness grow in the pit of his stomach as he listened, hearing a hand smack against the floor.

"I…"

"Kohaku, please!"

The boy struggled to get out of her grip, but Sango just clung tighter to him, wrapping her arms securely around him and pressing him to her in embrace. He tried to plant his feet against the ground but only succeeded in giving her chance to disable him further.

"I won't let you go!" Miroku could hear Sango's promises, muffled because she had pressed her mouth to Kohaku's crown, not really wanting to hear it herself. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it were all a nightmare? Just one big nightmare, that wasn't real. But she knew that was a lie, and continued trying to reassure Kohaku. "I'm sorry… but I can't let you be like this."

Kohaku screamed, the note high and pained, and Sango clamped a hand over his mouth. The tears running down his cheeks wet her hands, but she didn't much care. She could barely stand hearing him, seeing him like that. She couldn't let him stay a puppet of Naraku. As much as she'd like to have him alive, she would rather have him resting where Naraku couldn't harm him than as a shell; a mindless weapon. She had the choice, and the right choice was obvious. As his sister, she had to look after him. That's what her father would've wanted her to do. That's what she had to do, as much as it might seem too difficult, too heartrending, too much!

They didn't make it that far for nothing.

Gently, she pushed him down so that his back rested against the floor and she was crouched over him, though holding him down took almost all of her strength. Just like the old days in sparring practice, came a thought in the back of her head, barely heard over the storm of varied thoughts raging in her mind.

"Sango?"

The taijiya looked over to Miroku, who stared back at her urgently, his jittering fingers betraying his worry.

"Is everything…"

"I'm okay," she told him over Kohaku's cries, both able to make out the repeated and garbled syllables of 'Aneue'. She forced another smile onto her face, wiping at his tears with her sleeve.

"It's not your f-fault, Kohaku. Naraku did it. He used you." Her brother tried jerking one of his arms up, but she caught it. "Sssh, please. It wasn't you! Please believe that."

"Aneue!"

Sango moved her hand from before his lips, and he gasped in a quick lungful of breath.

"Sango, should I-"

"Please don't!" she hissed at the monk, barely acknowledging him.

Kohaku cut in with another desperate cry, trying to push her away.

"A-Aneue, you should hate me!"

Sango protested, "I could never hate you!"

"But I hurt you! I could've killed you, and I might…he might make me kill you!" Kohaku looked like he was about to be sick at the idea and convulsed, skin growing paler by the second.

"Kohaku…" She could hardly stand to hear him say that, as she knew it was truth. Trying to dismiss doubt from her mind, Sango snaked her hand around Kohaku's neck, her fingers dancing in between tufts of hair not long enough to stay in the ponytail, the stray locks feathery against his cold skin. Then she reached down a bit farther, feeling the skin of his back through the robe he wore, until she came upon a spot that was just slightly swollen between his shoulder blades.

"This might hurt a little…" she murmured, ignoring his protests as her other hand pulled at the collar of his robe so that it slipped over his shoulder, revealing more of his body. The same body she'd bathed with as a toddler. The same body she'd hugged to give and receive love. The same flesh and blood as her own. She could see his ribs through his skin. He always had been on the thin side. His father had been worried that the boy might not survive, but Kohaku had always surprised them with his will.

"It's not your fault, Kohaku," Sango told him again pleadingly, and he quieted for a moment, hoping desperately he would believe it. His throat felt raw, and it was getting harder to breath, pains shooting through his lungs. "I want you to know that I love you. I know you would never hurt me. But here, with me, you'll only hurt more. And I'll miss you. Why wouldn't I? But you'll get to see father again. And you won't hurt anymore! It hurts, doesn't it?"

Shakily, he nodded, knowing it hurt her just as much. "A-Aneue…"

Miroku heard Sango flip Kohaku onto his back and pull away fabric, no doubt to give her access to the jewel shard. Kohaku whimpered, as his sister traced down his spine.

"It's true," the monk supplied, "Your sister does love you. Naraku is the one to blame."

"You're going to kill him?" came Kohaku's quivering voice.

"We have to," Miroku told him, hoping Sango wouldn't mind. "There is no choice in the matter."

Sango's fingers pinched the skin that hid the jewel shard, glad there was still a small opening where it had been pushed in. It was all that kept her brother 'alive'. But he wasn't living, and there was no way she could change that.

"It'll be okay, Kohaku," she murmured softly, the tones child-like, almost sounding as if she had lost her sanity. "I love you."

He whimpered again as she squeezed slowly, trying to be gentle. Realizing there was no way to go about it without causing him pain, she used both her hands to force out the shard, bright red blood leaking out with it. His body jerked violently, and a choked cry could be heard. Quickly, Sango gathered him in her arms once more, though he was limp and unresponsive, skin clammy and desperately pale. Miroku remained as he was, too frightened to move or even breathe normally.

"A…Ane…ue?"

"Ssssh," Sango pushed back his bangs, closed her eyes, and kissed his forehead again. As she drew away she didn't open her eyes, letting her teeth mar her lip just lightly. For a few painstaking moments there was only stillness, until finally she gathered herself and let her eyes flicker open. And there in her arms was his corpse, staring up at her in an eerie, childish way. Instantly her body contracted inwards as if she'd been punched hard in the stomach. She pressed the cold body tightly to her as it slowly disappeared, turning to nothing but a fine dust that stuck to her legs and chest. Unable to help herself, she screamed and squeezed her eyes tight, though the tears still came. She was almost surprised she still had any left to cry.

Carefully, Miroku made his way over to her on his hands and knees, reaching out his hand. As he found her shoulder, she jolted and continued patting the empty space that she held. He was gone. Her baby brother was gone again, but this time it was for good. It had been hard enough the first time, and experiencing it again was just as tough.

"Sango…"

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her face. Wet smudges of grey were left from the dust. "I should be happy, right? He's…"

Running his hands over her shoulder blades, Miroku got a good idea of her position, and was able to wrap his arms around her. The taijiya fell into his embrace, closing her eyes. He felt some dust from her rub off onto him and instantly guessed what it was, but didn't mention it.

Clinging to the monk, Sango pressed her ear to his chest. Through the folds of fabric, she could hear his heartbeat, strong and constant.

It was there.

It was real.

o

Kagura's eyes caught the ceiling as she leaned her back against the wall. The door beside her had been slid open just a crack, and unbeknownst to the three- now two- inside, she had decided to take a peak. Spying hadn't been her intention; she'd simply been curious to what all the noise was about.

Carefully and quietly she let out her breath, bowing her head. You'd think, after all the death she had seen, that she had delivered, it wouldn't affect her in the least. But to see the taijiya's heart so broken like that… Before she would've laughed it off, but things like that, as much she hated to admit it, were really starting to get to her.

Naraku will pay…

Kagura stood upright and took a few lengthy steps away from the door, glancing back over her shoulder just to check that things were alright. Through the small gap between the door and the wall, she could see Miroku look up at her, an almost anxious expression in his eyes as he continued to cradle Sango in his embrace.

Unsure, Kagura gave a nod, then almost laughed in realization that he couldn't see her; he could just sense her energy. Nonetheless, she opened her fan a small bit and a gentle breeze started up, a refreshing difference from the stale, grave-like air that filled the castle. With that, the wind youkai turned on her heel and disappeared into the flickering shadows cast by the candles that lined the narrow hallway.

o

His hand curled into a fist, pale fingers all too bone-like in appearance, and squeezed, nails digging into the skin enough to leave small crescent marks colored dark rose. The vines of light blue and indigo that crawled up his wrist pulsed angrily with his blood.

…how nice it would be… that redness…

A bitter and somewhat mad grin came across his face, and he opened his lips just a little to let out an unimpressed 'tch', which erupted into a short bout of laughter after he found that wasn't enough. The sound bounced off the walls, coming back at him again and again, though he pretended to ignore them altogether.

It had just been a sudden pinprick in his mind, a sharp little pain alerting him before one of the many voices always murmuring and screaming and crying desperately inside of his head came to a sudden stop, dropping away where he couldn't find him.

They took him away… one of his favorite playthings…

But no matter. Naraku released his fingers from the fist, ignoring the aching in his hand. Kohaku had served his purpose time and time again, and was getting a little boring anyways. He probably would've done away with the boy soon, so perhaps he should consider it nice of them to do it for him.

His eyebrows wrinkled at that thought.

The taijiya and the houshi… they did that…

What mean, mean people… spoiling his fun!

They had the jewel shard, two in fact, but they didn't dare use them. Not when they were so encompassed with his malicious aura, and their precious little Kagome wasn't there to purify them.

Naraku smirked, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

No, they hadn't won yet.

o

A young girl's voice lilted out over the hill, an almost faerie sound in the night air. After twirling a few times, raveny hair and aurin sleeves whipping around her, she fell back onto the thick grass that covered the ground. Her eyes excited at the stars hanging in the deep blue that expanded on forever above her, seemingly endless. Though she'd seen them many a time before, she never could get over how beautiful they looked.

Suddenly, a wrinkled green face obscured her view.

"Rin! What do you think you're doing, wandering this far off?" it squawked.

Her lips came into pout. "But Jaken-sama…"

A sigh came from atop the hill. "She's fine, Jaken…"

"But Sesshou-maru-sama!"

The voice came again, this time in a threatening tone. "Jaken…"

"Hey look!" Rin interjected, pointing up at the sky.

"What is it now, girl?" Jaken growled (a rather funny sound, coming from him).

"It's that woman that came to see Sesshou-maru-sama before," she announced happily.

Jaken looked up into the sky, discovering a feather coming near to them, and rather low to the ground too. Sesshou-maru just gave a small 'hmph' in disinterest.

A great gust blew in as the grey plume landed on the ground and shrunk until it was normal sized and caught between the first and middle fingers of its rider. Kagura stepped forward, tucking it back into her hair.

"What, no welcome party?" she asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Sesshou-maru ignored her jests, taking a step forward. "Why is it you keep paying us visits, wind-user?"

The amused smile dropped from Kagura's face. "A fortnight from now, Naraku's guard will be down as he must revert to a weaker state, him being a half-demon and all. If you want any part of his death, come then."

"Is that all?"

"I guess so," she answered, the smug grin returning to her lips. "I'll see you around then."

She plucked the feather from where it rested in her hair, and with a sharp breeze it expanded. She hopped on, giving the party a short wave before rising upwards and creating a wind to carry her away. Rin watched this, wide-eyed.

"Cool!" she exclaimed after recomposing herself. "I wish I could fly too!"

Sesshou-maru closed his eyes, leaving Jaken to deal with the child.

A fortnight…

o

Floating.

That's the only way he could describe it. His body felt weightless and light and empty. As if he wasn't really there. But he could still feel things, and hear things too. Every now and then a voice would come along, only faintly, but it would leave just as soon.

On his tongue was the taste of peaches. Warm sunlight touched his skin, along with shadow, as if he were lying under a tree in summer. That's what it smelled like. Summer.

"Kohaku…" the voices came again, like wind tickling his ear.

It was beautiful, and perfect.

His soul was unburdened; unchained.

Forgiven.

End Chapter 12