Disclaimer: I do not/ will not ever own Inuyasha. Naraku, Sango, Miroku, Kohaku, Sango's father, Kazaana and Hiraikotsu are not mine. All other characters (for example: Kyoden and Tomomi) and plot developments are mine and shall not be stolen. Thank you.
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to post, but you wouldn't believe the amount of schoolwork my teachers are piling on top of me! Especially my English teacher!! I had an English test Friday where we had to write seven essays (full essayswithout the book) in forty-two minutes!!!!! AH! It was a NIGHTMARE, honest.
Anyway, thank you all for your reviews! -
I really like this chapter, hope you do too! Well, here goes nothing!
Translations:
Tono: Japanese lord during Sengoku Jidai (for example: Sango's father or Miroku's father in this story mind you are both tono).
Chapter 6, The Awakening of Evil
To her, it passed as a dream. The princess had been in her gardens when he appeared before her, dark, strong, and beautiful. From inside his robes, he had produced a tiny crystal vile from which an inky, intoxicating liquid had poured into her mouth. Them she had collapsed into his arms and slipped from the hold of her conscious mind.
When she awoke, she was in a quiet glade. Her clothes lay scattered across the clearing from where she rested. Beside her was a tiny crystal vile. Confused and unsure, she changed quickly, grabbed the vile and went home. In a short time, she had forgotten about the whole ordeal.
A week later, she and the wealthy prince, who she had been betrothed to at birth, were engaged. To her horror, she soon found that she was pregnant. Having never been with her fiancé, she realized to whom the child belonged and was terrified. In her desperation, she sought out a hermit, rumored to have power over the dark arts.
She went to the hermit with a heavy purse and pleaded with him to kill her unborn child. The man waited until she had finished and shook his head. He told her that he could not destroy the babe, for it had been chosen upon conception for a great destiny. So, the princess returned home with a heart of lead.
Many months passed and the cursed, unwanted babe grew within her. Her husband pretended that the baby was his to save her from dishonor. Finally, on a stormy night so cold that the snow came down in icicles, the woman called for her three maids. They rushed to her chamber and helped birth the sickly baby boy. His cries were heard above the howling of the ferocious wind, striking terror in those who perceived them.
As soon as she saw him, the woman shrieked in agony, for she saw that she had let loose a great evil unto the world. Regret and grief filled her heart. When her maids left her to nurse the son, she attempted to smother him. But when the maids returned several minutes later, they found that the princess had been murdered by the curse that protected the child.
The three ladies wrapped the babe in a blanket and brought him before his stepfather. Enraged by his wife's death, he sent the maids to the north, where a powerful miko lived, in hopes that she would purify the corrupt baby.
For months they traveled through wilderness until finally, in the heart of an ancient wood, they found the miko. She agreed to help them and, using the very same vile that had ensured the child's conception, sealed the baby away.
And the people connected to his birth moved on. But still within the castle grounds, there was a dark presence on the mind, a haunting of sorts. And on dark, stormy nights when the wind howled and the snow was like ice, the servants cuddled together by the fireside and whispered the tale of the cursed baby boythe tale of Naraku.
-
Sango and Miroku walked back in silence, side by side, no words between them. Both sets of eyes were dry now, but Miroku's still watched Sango for any signs of wooziness. She had been put through a lot that day, and he was unsure of the stableness of her condition. From the rubble, Sango had selected a wakizashi that had belonged to her little brother and her large boomerang: Hiraikotsu. The short sword was concealed beneath her houshi robes, while the boomerang, which could hardly be disguised, hung on her back. Also, she had salvaged a few minor supplies: a hidden wrist blade, shinobi stars, and poison powder.
Suddenly, a long cry of terror arose from the grounds. Sango stiffened. "That's Tomomi!" Sango cried, the color rushing from her horror-stricken face. She looked imploringly at Miroku and he broke off at a sprint, desperate to reach the princess's best friend. He wasn't sure whether Sango was following him or not, but it wasn't important. She was in a state of shock and would therefore be of little use if there was a skirmish waiting ahead.
He dashed out of the palace and into the ruins of the gardens. Tomomi stood in the center, shaking badly despite the roaring fire she had built. Her eyes were searching blindly as she spun around and her hand clutched the cloth over her heart. Her face was as white as Sango's had been.
"Tomomi, what's wrong?" he called to her
She did not answer, but her dark eyes darted to his face with a vacant expression. Two red lips parted and moved stupidly around her sobs.
Miroku grabbed her arm roughly and slapped her cheek. She gasped and looked at him. He was relieved to see that sanity had been restored within them. "What's wrong?" he asked again, gentler this time as he saw she was on the verge of tears. It was unnerving to see the typically cool, calm girl in such a state.
"There was something moving in the shadows" she whispered. Her voice was faint, as it she were trying to recover a dream. "He wasevil. I tried to stop him, but then I lost all sense of it." She paused and her eyes widened. "Where's Sango-chan?"
"Why?" Miroku questioned, intensity building in the air.
"He was heading toward the palace"
"Sango!" Miroku gasped, amethyst eyes flashing. Something had followed them here, despite his precaution. Or perhapscould it have been waiting here for them? He released Tomomi and ran back the way he had come at break-neck speed. Whatever it was, if it could do that to composed Tomomi, Miroku didn't want to think about what it could do to an already unstable Sango.
Sango's scream came a second later.
Miroku smashed through a half-incinerated wall and stumbled into the battle. He spied Sango lying across the large room from him, clutching her right shoulder while in a faint. Hovering above her stood the antagonist, his blade pointed to her heart. Miroku cursed fluently and the shadow unhurriedly rounded on the prince.
Amethyst met sapphire, and an electric hate flashed between the two.
Miroku rose to his full height and glared at his opponent who was dressed in the garb of a wealthy tono's son. Miroku prayed that Sango was not severely injured, and took a step toward the monster, drawing out Kyoden's katana. Again, he felt the warmth radiating slowly and soothingly from the hilt. "Who are you?" he asked coldly.
"Ah," seethed the creature, beginning to circle. Miroku moved easily into a half-crouch and circled as well. "You are the brother then?" He dashed forward, and Miroku easily deflected the blow.
Miroku did not answer; if the creature wanted to play mind games, Miroku didn't mind. He had been talked through a battle many a time before; this fight would be no different. He needed to concentrate on finding an opening.
"Silent, then? Just as well," he cooed. "A mute prince, eh? If you had a voice, you'd be almost the image of your brother."
The words caught Miroku off-guard, and he was too slow in deflecting the swordsman's next move; the cool steel grazed his sword arm and formed a minor cut. The wound hardly drew blood, but Miroku felt a flash of anger. He struggled to rein in his temper, knowing that to stay levelheaded was to be victorious. "Who are you?" he asked again. And how did he know Kyoden, but he let this go unspoken.
The monster smirked, displaying pointed eyeteeth. "My name is Naraku, though it will hardly be of any use to you, as you will be dead in a short time," he answered, not missing a beat.
Miroku ignored this and lunged. Naraku dodged and the circle began to turn the other way.
"Now that you know my name, I will have to know yours." When Miroku did not answer, Naraku's wicked grin was intensified. "Well now, despite your equivalent lack of sword-skill, you can clearly not be Kyoden-" He rolled aside and Miroku realized a second too late that he was heading for Sango.
Rage, white-hot, filled Miroku as he hollered in protest. He rushed, blade tip directed at the monster's heart. For a split second, Naraku faltered. Miroku seized the moment and jumped in front of Naraku's sword, letting the steel pass harmlessly into his thigh. Miroku stumbled and then turned to the beast. "Don't you touch her!" he snarled in feral anger.
Sango stirred behind him, lifted herself onto her elbows, and gasped as she took in the scene. Immediately, she began backing away from Naraku.
Something between a whimper and a hiss came from Naraku's throat. Two sapphires gleaned savagely from behind long tendrils of inky-colored hair. "Bastard" he growled, "I was so close" He swung his sword over his head and brought it down across Miroku's chest.
The uncalculated move tore Miroku's robes, but the skin underneath remained unharmed. Miroku frowned and lashed out skillfully. Naraku dodged, but a second too late, and the sword cut the bandage from Naraku's neck. It fell away, revealing the wound that Kyoden had caused before his death. With horror, Miroku realized how Naraku knew his brother-- the account of his death (as told by Sango) rushing back to him. "You're-!" he barked, pallor flowing into his cheeks. "You're the one who-who killed-"
"ENOUGH!" Naraku roared, grabbing his neck to hide the cut. "You will pay for my humiliation, brother of that wretch!"
Miroku stepped back, amethysts gone wide with shock, as a sparkling black aura surrounded Naraku. Foul syllables reached his ear and he recognized too late the evil chants of the black magic. The magic hit him full force, and a maniacal laughter arose from Naraku.
The magic caused agony unlike anything he had previously experienced. It consumed him like a hungry beast, tearing apart his insides. The black fingers of magic wrapped around him, squeezing air from his lungs. It was a fire, a fire that hated and destroyed. Miroku dropped to his knees, the magic roiling through him. He could feel it eating away at his spirit. Kyoden's sword tumbled from his nerveless fingers in his right hand, from which the pain radiated. Here, the fire came to settle, burning away the flesh slowly and deliberately, then allowing it to rejuvenate in a series of agonizing puncture-like tingling, then burning it away again. The magic became a sword then, and stabbed through Miroku's hand like acid, creating a clean precise hole. The fires seized hold of the skin around it and ripped it away from the hole, widening the curse-wound.
"Houshi-sama!" he heard Sango cry.
Something dark was growing inside his hand now, something vast and unimaginably evil. He could not fight it off. He was too weak to do so.
"Sango!" he whispered hoarsely. "I"
Then he was drifting, falling into another time and place. It was summer in the Takara kingdom, and he was a child of seven. He was playing with Kyoden in the gardens and had fallen while trying to climb a tree. He had bumped his head had and was sprawled out in the grass. Kyoden was above him in the tree, saying, Oh don't be such a baby! That fall was nothing; you're alright!
"Get up."
Miroku opened his eyes. Sango knelt close on his left, her eyes filled with tears and her cheeks wet with them. Her hands covered her mouth, muffling her words beyond comprehension; it had not been her who had ordered him to rise. Miroku's left hand found and held hers. He managed a thin smile before darkness covered his eyes and stole away his sight. There was a breeze that rushed past his face, and he momentarily wondered what a breeze was doing in these ruins. He sighed once, and was gone.
-
He awoke with a start as a damp and steaming cloth was placed on his burning forehead. It was morning, and a campfire was burning nearby. Miroku's eyes sought and found Sango's face immediately. She smiled gently at him and began to dab his forehead with the cloth. "It's alright, houshi-sama," she muttered. "We're safe now. Go back to sleep."
Sleep? Sleep! How outrageous! How could he sleep at a time like this, when so many questions were racing through his mind? Where had Naraku gone? How was Sango's shoulder? Was Tomomi safe? And the most prominent question in his mind, the one he was most afraid of the answer to: What had happened to him?
Sensing his inquisitiveness, Sango shook her head. "You have a fever; you need sleep. You can ask later."
Miroku began to protest, but his eyelids were already drooping. She was right of course, he could feel illness within him and it made him drowsy. His racing heart slowed and his pulse regulated itself. Before falling entirely to unconsciousness, he squeezed his right hand once. A pang shot through him and he gasped, but the ache had gone down considerably. Faintly, he noticed that he was clutching his prayer beads. I must have grabbed them before I passed out last time,' he thought distantly, not comprehending the significance of this instinct as of yet.
He sighed contentedly and fell back asleep.
- Ichimu
P.S. I love reviews!!!!!!