A/N: Okay, so I'm updating much sooner than I'd planned to, but I feel bad for leaving you guys hanging for so long, so you now reap the benefits of my guilt—congratulations. So, this chapter I love. Seriously. Possibly even more than chapter eight…okay, maybe not, but it's a really close race between them. Just like chapter eight, though, it gets a little depressing. This is not a chapter that ends on a happy note, but then, I'm not the sort to write cheerful things—this, you should have all figured out by my frequent use of depressing lyrics. Oh well, enjoy—and Merry Christmas!
Words To Know:
shiro: castle
oni: ogre…more or less. Some kind of monster, in any case
Disclaimer: check Chapters One through Nine if you're really wondering.
Chapter Eleven: The Dead
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You're far beyond a visible sign of your awakening,
Failing miserably to find a way to comfort you…
Far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
And hiding from some poisoned memory….
"Sleeping Beauty"/ A Perfect Circle
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"We smell rank."
Sesshoumaru did not often find himself in agreement with a human. Particularly when the issue of his cleanliness—in this case, his lack thereof—was under discussion. However, he had to concur with the miko: they did smell rank. But that didn't mean he had to concur with her out loud.
Luckily, she didn't seem to want his verbal accord:
"Is there a river nearby or something?" Kagome asked from beside him, sending him a hopeful look.
He sniffed the air. "A river," he said. "We should be coming upon it very soon."
"Thank the gods," Kagome murmured fervently.
His mouth twisted into a decidedly malicious smirk.
"Indeed."
She glared at him, knowing that he wasn't echoing her sentiment, but making an observation on how she smelled.
They had been walking all day long, and it was nearing sundown. They were going to be reaching the river a half an hour after sundown, by his calculations. It wasn't a great start, but the walking had given him time to think. He would have been able to think if he had been leaping over trees or hurtling through the air via youki, but the thought process was always a little fragmented, since he had to watch out for things like gaps in the forest growth or mountains. He had learned both lessons as a pup the hard way, and Sesshoumaru never did anything twice, if he could help it. Especially if it was something unquestionably moronic.
He had been feeling something on the very edges of his awareness all day, and the sensation was beginning to annoy him. He couldn't identify it, he couldn't quite get a handle on what it was, only that it disturbed him at the most basic levels of his being. It was a little like the feeling he got when he and the miko faced off and her hands started glowing. Whatever the something was, it was a threat to him. He wasn't positive, but instinct said it was probably that youkai bastard that had been consuming his thoughts and life for nearly a decade. And while Sesshoumaru wasn't adverse to the idea of warfare, one tired of the same old shit after a while. Particularly when one wasn't doing, to take a page from the miko, "so hot."
Kagome was thinking too. And while some of it was heartbreaking, most of it was happy. Hell, she could even find something happy about the heartbreaking parts.
She had said good-bye to Sango and Miroku's children, all eleven of whom she had met in some fashion or another during her visits to the village. Upon finally seeing all of them together and counting them, she had smiled, a little sad, a little amused. When Mamoru had asked her what was so amusing, she had replied,
"Not quite a dozen."
The siblings had stared at her in astonishment. It wasn't until she got nervous under the weight of so much disbelief and turned to Mamoru for help that she discovered that she had quoted Miroku's oft repeated phrase, chapter and verse. Her eyes had watered even as she had laughed.
Mika had given her another blanket and a thick bar of soap, homemade, of course, along with a comb, a few lengths of ribbon and some food stuffs. She had also supplied three huge rolls of ragged, but clean, linen turned bandage.
"You never know," the old woman had said as she stuffed the items into Kagome's arms. Kagome had sent Sesshoumaru a helpless look. He had sourly watched her become even more weighted down, but he hadn't said a word. He didn't have to: everyone in the village had been able to sense his displeasure.
Mai and Kin, baby Yasuo in tow, had said their good-byes. Kagome had had a moment of inspiration and walked over to Sesshoumaru. She had tugged on his sleeve and motioned for him to lean over. He had rolled his eyes but complied. She had whispered her request into his ear, and he had stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Annoyed, she had grabbed hold of a lock of his hair and given it a yank. He had growled in warning at her, and the taijiya who had showed up armed placed their hands over their weapons at the sound.
"You will not dishonor our parents," Mamoru snapped, his voice hard and cold as he glared at the offenders.
Kagome and Sesshoumaru watched, eyes going from the monk to those he was reprimanding. After a handful of tense seconds, hands had been removed from hardware and Kagome breathed a sigh of relief, then went back to Sesshoumaru, sending him her best pleading look. If it was possible, his expression became even more disagreeable than before.
"Oh just do it already, you overgrown baby," Kagome hissed.
His eyes narrowed. "Remember that later," he told her, then reached around, grabbed her hair and sliced off a lock. It fell into her palm, and she smiled cheerfully at him.
"Arigatou," she said, then turned and walked back to Mai and Kin, who had heard the exchange and were presently doing a very good impression of the expression Sesshoumaru had been wearing after she'd made her request.
She smiled at Yasuo, leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then handed him the lock of hair.
"I expect you to keep your hands to yourself next time I see you, kid," she said.
Mai had laughed. Kin sent his wife and the miko a look that plainly said he thought they were insane. When he'd glanced over at the demon lord and seen the same look on his face, he inclined his head, a gesture that the demon acknowledged with the barest flicker of his eyes.
They had ended up leaving the taijiya village with the rising of the sun, Kagome walking backwards to the best of her ability—she found she didn't have a particular talent for it—and waving furiously until she couldn't see her friends' children. She had wanted to go back and stay with them a little longer, but she had business to attend to. The promise she had made to Sango made her silently vow that she would do all Sesshoumaru needed her to do and more: she'd perform the purification to end all purifications, and then she'd come back and make sure her friend's children were safe and well.
Half an hour later, they had reached the river. The sun had already set, and the last paltry rays of light were fast disappearing, chased down behind the horizon by the descending night.
Kagome plopped down at the base of a tree and went through her belongings, looking for the bar of soap Mika had provided her with. She also pulled out the dark blue haori and hakama Mine had given her. She had begun to pull out the pajamas, but the memories attached to the article of clothing had stayed her hand. She was never going to be able to watch that anime ever again without thinking about Inuyasha and Kaede-obaa-chan being dead.
"I won't be long," she said to the silent demon.
Sesshoumaru didn't acknowledge that she'd spoken. He was seated under another tree a few feet away, head resting against the bark and eyes closed. Kagome took his silence as an answer of sorts, and went to the river.
She striped and waded in, cringing at the cool temperature, but glad nonetheless for the opportunity to wash. She scrubbed her skin vigorously with the soap, and used it to wash her hair, then washed her miko's garb. She dried off with a spare scrap of cloth that Mika had provided and got into the dark blue haori and hakama, then wrung out her wet, now clean clothing and gathered her soap and the cloth and went back to camp. The entire process had taken her thirty minutes.
When she got back to where Sesshoumaru was sitting—as far as she could tell, he hadn't moved—she started a fire and rigged a line to dry her clothes. That done, she dug through her bag for her comb and began methodically working through the knots in her hair. She glanced at him.
"If you'd like, you can borrow the soap Mika-san gave me," she offered.
He opened an eye and watched her. She shrugged, set her comb aside and grabbed another cloth from her bag, put the soap in it and tossed it at him. He lifted one hand lazily and caught it, then shut his eye and leaned back against the tree. Kagome went back to her hair.
Silence stretched between them, companionable and comfortable for the first time in Kagome's memory, and then Sesshoumaru opened his eyes and rose fluidly and left the camp, walking to the river. Kagome noticed that he was still holding the cloth-wrapped soap.
She finished her ministrations and got out her tea kit and cooking implements, along with some of the food Mika had provided her with. It occurred to her that her pack was starting to resemble the bottomless yellow backpack she'd carted all over Japan while on her quest to complete the Shikon with Inuyasha, Sango, Miroku, and Shippou, and she smiled, a little wistfully at the thought.
She had just finished serving the dinner she'd cooked when Sesshoumaru returned. He came up behind her so silently that she didn't know he was back until he dropped the cloth next to her, making her jump.
"Aiieee!" she yelped, then sighed and shut her eyes. "Why do you DO that?" she asked.
He didn't reply. He merely continued on towards the tree he'd been sitting under before and lowered himself to the ground gracefully. She sighed again and shook her head, then picked up one of the two bowls and rose. She walked to him, and held the bowl out. He had closed his eyes again. She stood in front of him, offering the bowl, for several seconds before he opened one eye and looked up at her. He opened both eyes, reached out and accepted the bowl. Kagome inclined her head, and as she did, she noticed his hair. She paused, then leaned closer. It wasn't quite as smooth as it had been before.
"If you'd like, I'll comb the knots out of your hair," she blurted before she thought.
He went still, and Kagome, realizing what she'd said, fought down the urge to bash her head into the tree he was currently sitting under.
He didn't say anything, and Kagome started getting nervous. Why in the world had she made such an incredibly idiotic offer? How could she have forgotten who she was traveling with? Sesshoumaru was not like Inuyasha—she couldn't treat him the same way she'd have treated his half-brother. To begin with, they disliked each other and weren't at all shy about making that fact abundantly clear. Sesshoumaru tolerated her only because he found her useful, and Kagome tolerated him because she was beginning to think that his battle was the reason she had been taken back through the ages. But beyond his war, Sesshoumaru had little patience for her, and she had absolutely no permanent obligation to him for the same reason. They were united in this uneasy alliance to defeat a threat, that was all. Still, that didn't change the fact that Kagome had uttered possibly the stupidest question of her life, and she was caught between the urge to call back the words and the knowledge that such a thing was not only impossible, it was extremely rude. But since when did she care if she was rude to him?
Since he'd helped her.
Kagome sighed inwardly.
"It shouldn't take me very long," she said hesitantly. "And, with your hair being so long, it'd probably be easier to let me do it for you."
He still wasn't saying anything. Kagome didn't know if that was a yes or no. After a long pause, she decided to take it as a yes. She turned and went to her pack and took out her comb, then walked back to him and settled down beside him. She took a second to gather up her courage, then reached up and gently dragged the comb through the fine strands that glowed like moon shine.
To say that he was stunned was the understatement of the millenium.
Sesshoumaru hadn't expected the offer, although, once he thought it over, it shouldn't have surprised him the way it had. She was a naturally thoughtful person—that particular quality had just never been present in any of her previous dealings with him. He really hadn't known how to respond, especially since the offer had reminded him, sharply, painfully, of Rin. She seemed to do that a lot. And he resented her more and more for it, when it happened; the rest of the time, he was just annoyed that she existed.
Rin had been fascinated with his hair as a child, and it was a fascination she had never entirely grown out of. It was a fascination that her children had inherited, as well. Her children. He hadn't thought very much about them. Mostly because they had so resembled her, all cheerful smiles and obedient curiosity. It was like remembering her. Sesshoumaru swallowed, his grip on the bowl tightening.
Why? he silently asked. Why am I being punished NOW?
It took several minutes to settle himself. Once he did, he began to quietly eat the meal Kagome had given him, even though he didn't need it or particularly want it; he'd only accepted it so that she'd go away and leave him alone. Now, however, he was grateful he had it—it would give him something to occupy himself with, something that didn't require much thought. She was mercifully silent, meticulously combing out the snarls in his hair, and actually, if he didn't think about anything, it was a rather nice feeling. He hadn't really relaxed while someone had attended to his hair since the death of his mother. Nowadays, nameless, faceless servants attended to him.
He moved forward so that she could sit down behind him. And once she could no longer see him, Sesshoumaru shut his eyes and did something he hadn't done in centuries—he imagined he was a pup again, being attended to by his mother. It was a mistake, that: not only did it not make him feel any better, it depressed him when Kagome finally finished and rose.
"There, all done," she murmured, walking back to where she had set down her dinner. She tossed the comb on top of her pack, sat down and dug into her food.
She did not expect his thanks, and he did not give it.
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Sesshoumaru stood in the middle of his garden, his right arm hanging as limply at his side as his empty left sleeve, and stared ahead at nothing.
The little one had married.
He pursed his lips, still not entirely sure how he felt about that. He had taken her in, raised her. She had been his companion for almost seven years. Seven years. Gods above, it didn't seem like it had been anything at all.
In truth, he would have preferred to wait for her seventeenth birthday to marry her off, but there was unrest in the youkai world, and it was dangerous for her to remain with him. So when the boy had asked for Rin's hand, he had given his blessing. It suited his purposes to get her out of his shiro and far away from him. She was his only weakness. A sweet little human woman-child who had wormed her way into his icy heart. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that, either.
He heard Inuyasha long before his half-brother actually showed up.
"Hanyou," Sesshoumaru said coldly.
"Cut the shit asshole," Inuyasha spat. "Your toad thing said you wanted to talk to me."
Sesshoumaru turned and faced his long-estranged brother. The hanyou was glaring at him. He still wore the red fire-rat haori and hakama, still had Tessaiga at his hip. He also still wore the rosary around his neck that his odd little miko had used to control him. Sesshoumaru mentally scoffed at the show of sentimentality.
"Well?" Inuyasha snapped impatiently.
"I merely wished to inform you that I have forfeited all rights to the Tessaiga," Sesshoumaru said smoothly.
Inuyasha stared at him, more still than Sesshoumaru could ever remember seeing him—except, perhaps, for those fifty years he'd spent under enchantment, pinned to the tree by the dead miko. His ears flickered once, then twice.
"What?" Inuyasha asked finally, sounding absolutely and completely perplexed.
Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to kill him on the spot for his stupidity.
Not on the little one's wedding day, he silently reminded himself.
"You heard me."
"No shit—I just don't believe it."
"That is your business."
"Why don't you want it anymore?" Inuyasha demanded suspiciously.
Sesshoumaru did something he had never done before: he sighed in impatience and impotent frustration.
"Because, baka, there isn't a chance in all the seven hells that I will be able to wield it, and I refuse to waste any more of my precious time on a fruitless endeavor." he snapped irritably. He glared at his half-brother. "Besides, I gave up on the thing some time ago. This is just a formality."
Inuyasha watched him, one eyebrow raised, lips pursed. "Yeah, you like that formality shit," he said absently.
Sesshoumaru again reminded himself that he couldn't murder Inuyasha on Rin's wedding day. It might upset her groom and his family, which would in turn upset her. The last thing he needed right now was an excuse for the ceremony to be reduced to a shambles.
"Is that it?" Inuyasha asked, scratching the back of his head. He looked off balance, which cheered Sesshoumaru up a little.
"Hai," Sesshoumaru returned, then turned around again.
"Oi bastard," Inuyasha said after a pause.
"What is it now, you abomination?"
"Don't think this means I'll give up on trying to beat your arrogant ass."
Sesshoumaru indulged in a rare smile, but didn't turn around.
"I wouldn't dream of it Inuyasha…."
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Kagome found herself walking down a dusty road under an orange sky. As far as she could tell, she was alone, and there was nothing but the road and the sky. No grass, no ground—just road and sky.
She glanced around her, looking first to her left and then to her right. When she looked to her right, she suddenly found Miroku walking beside her, looking as he always had. She was so startled by his appearance she stopped walking and stared at him, eyes wide. After several seconds, Miroku stopped as well and turned around and met her wide, shocked eyes. They stared at each other in silence; Kagome couldn't seem to find her voice, and Miroku seemed to be waiting for her to speak.
"M…miroku-s…sama?" she asked hesitantly at long last.
He grinned widely at her and bowed ever so slightly. "Kagome-sama," he returned. "It's been some time, hasn't it?"
Dumbly, she nodded as she stared at him.
"Am I dreaming?" she asked finally.
"Indeed you are," Miroku replied with a nod. "We are currently on the dream plane."
"Any particular reason?" she asked.
He sent her a decidedly wise look. "You tell me, Kagome-sama. This is, after all, your dream, not mine."
He had a point there. Kagome pondered while they walked down the path together. Dreams were supposed to be symbolic, or at least that was what her psychology professor had said. Dreams were the unconscious mind's attempt to communicate with the conscious. So what did her unconscious know that the rest of her didn't?
"I'm not really up for figuring it out, Miroku-sama," she said finally, wearily.
Miroku nodded solemnly. "No, I don't suppose you are, considering everything that's been happening."
"You know?" she asked, surprised.
Miroku grinned at her. "Of course—you told me all about it."
Kagome watched him, then slowly grinned back. "You were listening."
"You're my friend, Kagome-sama," the houshi returned sincerely. "To do anything less than listen to you when you needed me to would be wrong of me."
Kagome sighed.
"That's nice to know," she said. "But I would have rather had you and Sango there with me," she added sadly.
"We were there."
Kagome's head jerked up and she stared at him in surprise. He laughed.
"Did you think you were hallucinating?" he asked, still laughing.
"Well…yeah!" she shot back defensively. "That was some pretty freaky incense, Miroku!"
He smiled, shaking his head.
"It was quite ordinary, I assure you," he said. "People's minds are fascinating things, Kagome-sama. The mind is able to create any reality it wishes. That's what yours did. The incense only helped to soothe you, nothing more."
"I freaked out pretty bad huh?" she asked after a pause.
"You've had to deal with quite a lot."
Kagome swallowed. "That doesn't make it any better," she murmured, eyes on the path she was walking.
"That is a matter of perspective."
She felt her lips twist. "You know, you used to say that a lot—especially when we called you on your exorcisms."
Miroku sent her a serene smile. Kagome laughed.
They continued on it silence for some time.
"Were you happy?" she asked him.
"Hai," he replied without hesitation.
She pursed her lips. "It must be nice not to have to think about that answer," she mused aloud.
"It is," he returned. He glanced over at her. "Kagome-sama, are you up to the task Sesshoumaru-sama has given you?"
"No," she said honestly. A pause. "But I wasn't up to defeating Naraku either. I figure if I can do that, I can do this."
Miroku looked troubled.
"Kagome-sama, the evil you face now is more insidious than Naraku could have ever hoped to be. This is evil, the purest, oldest evil there is." he said.
"What do you know?" she asked; getting information from Sesshoumaru was about as effortless and enjoyable as pulling teeth.
"Only what I've seen, and, unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough. I only visited long enough to sit with you," Miroku admitted, frowning. "But I felt it. It's a presence that soils everything it touches. It's thousands of times more pervasive than Naraku."
"You're starting to scare me Miroku," Kagome said quietly.
"Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing, Kagome-sama."
They walked on, the sky around them suddenly more oppressive than it had previously been. It hadn't changed color or visibly darkened, but it was just a feeling.
"I don't know how to control my power," Kagome told him. It was her greatest fear, the amount of untamed power she housed in her petite body.
"I can guide you through that, if you'd like," Miroku said with a nod.
"You won't grope me or anything, will you?" Kagome asked suspiciously.
Miroku pulled a wounded expression, clasping his right hand to his chest as if he'd been struck.
"Kagome-sama, your suspicion cuts me to the quick."
"Uh-huh."
His lips twitched. "Don't worry about it—Sango broke me of the habit many years ago. She's the only one I grope now."
"That's sweet…in a creepy, perverted kind of way…."
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Kagome's eyes opened. She lay on her side for several seconds, staring out into the night, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness around her. After several seconds, she was saw Sesshoumaru under his tree, presumably sleeping. The fire she'd built had burned itself out.
She blinked, wondering if she was still dreaming or if she was really awake now. Everything around her seemed real enough. Then again, so had her dreams.
She moved slightly, and heard the clink of beads bumping beads. Looking down at the hands fisted under her chin, she found Miroku's prayer beads tightly wound around both. She blinked down at them, then looked up at the sky. Still dark, still starry. No moon, though. She found herself strangely disappointed. Moon-watching did wonders for the soul. So peaceful, so calm….
Kagome sighed, then settled down again. She was going to need to sleep if she expected to keep up with Chuckles.
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It took him three days to figure out why he was sleeping so peacefully and why he was reliving memories he wished he could forget.
Sesshoumaru eyed Kagome as she walked alongside him, looking rather engrossed in her thoughts. She had been quite serious lately, and he had noticed that she had been meditating every evening after dinner. And he was noticing an improvement in her ki. There was focus, or the beginnings of it. There was a sense of control about her that had been missing before. He was grateful for that. A little. Okay, maybe not so much: the bitch was using him as her practice.
He had figured it out this morning, when he had awakened from another memory-dream. And when he did, he had immediately noticed that his youki was intertwined with her ki. He had sat in rigid shock for several moments, stunned by the realization. His first reaction had been to get up, grab her and snap her neck. But he had discarded that action when he looked at her. She was still asleep. And she was too green to be able to control her ki in her sleep in such a manner. No, this was her ki's doing. The energy had sought out his. For what purpose, he had no idea. He knew for a fact, however, that her ki joining with his youki was making him memory-dream, or what ever the hell it was. And he despised it, hated that she made him relive, however unintentionally, things he wanted to obliterate from his mind. He loathed his memories. If he could have, he would have happily erased them.
He had no use for them. They merely served to remind him of his failures. And he detested that he had failed so many times, even if he was the only one who remembered them anymore.
Kagome glanced at Sesshoumaru nervously out of the corner of her eye for the tenth time in five minutes. He looked pissed. REALLY pissed. And she really hoped he wasn't pissed with her, though something told her he probably was. After all, in his mind, he was the Golden Boy—perfect, could do no wrong. He wasn't the type to get upset with his perfect self. He was the type that preferred to take out his aggressions on the imperfect mass around him. And unfortunately for her, Kagome was the only "mass" nearby.
A spike of youki made her stiffen.
"Did you feel that?" she asked him, stopping.
He didn't verbally reply. Instead, he unsheathed Toukijin. Still, that was answer enough for her.
Sesshoumaru's youki began to uncurl around him. Kagome's ki responded in kind, and her hands began glowing as she drew an arrow from her quiver and placed it against the string of her bow, not quite nocked but close.
It was such a massive presence that Kagome had no trouble sensing which direction the threat was coming from; she turned to it at the same moment Sesshoumaru did. They stood tense, ready. Waiting.
"It's huge," Kagome murmured.
"Miko."
She looked at the back of Sesshoumaru's head.
"I would suggest that you try out your katana."
She frowned. "My katana?" she asked. "But I could do just as much damage with my arrows."
"Perhaps—but it would be best to find out just what exactly you're capable of before you face the youkai bastard. Don't you think?"
Kagome hesitated. "I guess."
His head moved ever so slightly, and she thought he might have nodded. And that was about all she was capable of thinking.
An enormous oni ripped through the woods in front of them—saying he was hideous would have been a polite description.
"Oh crap—why can't these things be more pleasant-looking?" Kagome asked, automatically letting her arrow fly.
The arrow sliced cleanly through the oni's raised hand, and obliterated it. The oni bellowed, and Kagome winced at the sound and hooked her bow over her back and unsheathed her sword, which promptly began glowing bright yellow.
"Fantastic—you've enraged it," Sesshoumaru said sarcastically as he grabbed her about the waist and leapt out of the way of the oni's remaining fist, which smashed into the ground where they had been standing.
"Well, you'd be upset too if someone took off your hand," she returned mildly.
He glared at her, and she had the good grace to blush and smile in embarrassment. "But then, you know about that already, don't you…?"
He glared at her a second longer before dismissing her and dodging another blow. He was eyeing the oni, plotting something. Something that involved her using her sword. Kagome was actually a little curious as to how the sword purified demons. She assumed it had some kind of attack, like the Tessaiga's Kaze no Kizu, but perhaps less destructive to the world around it. She hoped, anyway.
Sesshoumaru landed in a spot just behind the oni, and set her on her feet.
"Got any ideas?" she asked.
"I believe you do," he said, watching her sword. He gestured to it with his nose. "Or maybe that's your weapon speaking."
Kagome glanced down at the sword she held. It was now glowing white. It pulsed, once, then twice. Kagome looked up at Sesshoumaru, surprised. He was eyeing the sword suspiciously. Right—being a demon and all, he was naturally suspicious of anything remotely pure.
The oni figured out that they were behind him and turned around with a roar. Kagome looked up, saw him beginning to bring his very heavy palm down upon them, and did the first thing that popped into her head: she chucked her sword at him like a throwing knife. The sword spun through the air, a glowing metallic blur, and hit the oni dead in the chest. The oni jerked, looked down and screamed as the sword shot holy light all through him. He exploded, and the blast sent Sesshoumaru and Kagome flying back. Sesshoumaru hit a tree with a grunt, then grunted again when Kagome slammed into him. Pieces of oni rained down all around them.
Sesshoumaru sighed wearily and shut his eyes, leaning his head against the bark.
"Woman," he said slowly, "you will be my undoing."
"That is easily the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Kagome said, wrinkling her nose, as she watched bits of oni fall around her with sick splats. She gagged.
Sesshoumaru shoved her off his lap. Kagome glared at him; he ignored her. They sat there for several minutes, surveying the havoc Kagome's sword had created.
"It smells," Sesshoumaru finally commented.
"I'm with you on that," Kagome agreed. She grinned at him. "But that was pretty cool, wasn't it?"
His expression told her plainly that he did not concur. She chose to ignore it.
"Miko," he said, his voice dry, and Kagome inwardly moaned, knowing he was going to make her feel stupid, "just how are you going to go about retrieving your weapon?"
She glared darkly at him. She had not thought about that when she had thrown her sword. She'd been concerned with other things, like not becoming a Kagome-sized pancake. In retrospect, she figured it had not been the best idea. Not that she was going to let HIM know that:
"The usual way," she snapped.
He looked darkly amused: "Good luck," he said with malicious cheer.
She shot him another bird. He smirked at her.
"I'd avoid doing that, Miko—it's terribly easy to lose a finger."
She quickly lowered her middle finger and settled for sticking her tongue out at him.
Oh yeah Kagome, she thought to herself, real mature. Great comeback. Just look at how impressed Icicle Ass is.
They got to their feet, and Kagome started walking toward where the oni had been standing, hoping her sword hadn't flown somewhere too far from it. Her right palm started itching all of a sudden, and she absently scratched it as she walked. Instead of going away, the itch just got more insistent, and Kagome looked down, irritably wondering what in the hell was wrong with her hand. That was when she noticed a scar on her palm that she hadn't seen before. She stopped and stared down at her hand.
It was the cut Toutousai-ojii-san had made when he'd put together her sword, sealing her ki to the weapon with her blood. The one Sesshoumaru had licked shut. The cut had been a faint line before, so weak as to be almost invisible. Now, it had thickened and looked inflamed.
"What in the seven hells…?" Kagome asked, a little scared. She turned her hand over, palm down, to see if the back of it was turning any weird colors. And that was when her sword shot up from the ground several yards away from her and sped through the air toward her. The handle slammed into her palm and nearly knocked Kagome over.
"Holy crap!" she yelped, dropping the sword and jumping back.
"Must you scream?" Sesshoumaru asked irritably, walking toward her.
Kagome edged toward the sword carefully, her right hand clasped to her chest. She leaned over and peered down at the weapon, eyes narrow and accessing. Experimentally, she held out her hand, palm down. The sword immediately lifted up and the handle slapped her palm. Kagome closed her fingers around it, staring at the sword in shock. She then looked up at Sesshoumaru.
"It appears your scar calls your katana back," he stated.
She nodded, then looked back down at the weapon in her hand.
"This…is SUCH a cool katana," she murmured.
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
She was little better than a child.
Sesshoumaru watched the miko stick her sword into the dirt, walk several feet back, hold out her right hand and call the weapon back for the eightieth time that evening. And for the eightieth time that evening, she said,
"This is so freaking cool!"
He thought about killing her to shut her up and then using the Tenseiga to revive her after he'd had about an hour's peace, but he made no move to get up. In all truth, he could probably have tuned her out and ignored her, which would have been far easier and less messy than killing her…but not nearly as satisfying. Or fun.
He rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree he was sitting under, closing his eyes. In another few minutes, he was going to order the insufferable woman to go to sleep. He'd do it now, but she wasn't really annoying him overly. She was just acting like a child with a new toy. Which she was, in a way.
It took him several minutes to realize that she had quieted down—he'd tuned her out and retreated into the sanctity of his own mind—and in the same second he became aware of her silence he felt her ki spike. His eyes shot open, and he found her standing rigidly by the fire, looking at something in the woods. He looked too, but saw nothing. And that was when he felt it: a cold, creeping feeling that slid over his body and made him want to shudder.
"Son of a bitch," he snarled, instantly on his feet, Toukijin drawn.
A laugh echoed all around them, and Sesshoumaru saw the miko flinch violently at the sound.
"Ah Sesshoumaru-sama," the voice, soft and deep said. Sesshoumaru's teeth clenched and he growled low in the back of his throat, menacingly. "Oh, come now Sesshoumaru-sama, I thought you'd be pleased to hear from me. It's been far too long, don't you agree?"
"Come out you miserable shit," Sesshoumaru ordered, eyes flickering everywhere.
"I'm sorry to disappoint, Sesshoumaru-sama, but I'm not here." the voice said, sounding amused. "That's why you can't smell me either."
Sesshoumaru had never been so furious.
"Then where are you?" he demanded, voice taut.
The voice chuckled, sounding indulgent.
"Suffice it to say that I'm not anywhere near you. Or your charming little miko. Tell me, for I'm most curious…what would a youkai so powerful as yourself be doing with a miko?"
Kagome was slowly backing away from the fire, coming closer and closer to him. His eyes went to her. Fear was rolling off of her in frantic waves. Her ki was on high alert, which made his youki curl protectively around him. Shit. If she didn't calm down, she was going to purify him.
"Nervous, Sesshoumaru-sama? I can't blame you. Purity like the miko's…that's impressive. Wherever did you find a miko with so much power?" There was a pause, and then the voice chuckled lightly. "Ah, I know: she's the miko who traveled with your brother, isn't she? Kagome?"
The demon lord and the miko stiffened in unison, shock ripping through both of them.
"What was his name?" the voice mused. "Inuyasha? Hai…that sounds about right. And Kagome is the reincarnation of the miko who sealed Inuyasha for fifty years. Kikyou, wasn't it? Hai, Kikyou. You look very much like her, Kagome. Tell me, does it bother you that Inuyasha and Kikyou are together in hell?"
Kagome flinched as if she'd been shot.
"Ah, I see that it does," the voice said, sounding delighted by the discovery.
Kagome edged farther back, reaching Sesshoumaru's side. She grabbed hold of his kimono sleeve and stepped back, almost behind him. She was shaking violently, terrified and hurt. Sesshoumaru ignored her. He didn't trust these under-handed tactics. There was probably an army heading straight for them while this faceless, formless speaker wasted their time and diverted their concentration.
"Would it bother you that Inuyasha died cursing you, hating you, Kagome?" the voice wanted to know.
Kagome jerked and whimpered. Now THERE was a tender nerve if ever Sesshoumaru had seen one. Love. His lips curled in a sneer. Such a useless thing.
"Is there a point to this idiocy?" he snapped icily.
There was a long pause.
"Why of course there was Sesshoumaru-sama," the voice said sincerely.
"And?"
The voice chuckled wryly.
"Ask your little miko," was the reply, and then the cold, creeping sensation vanished.
Sesshoumaru stood unmoving for several minutes, then sheathed Toukijin and turned his head to look at Kagome. She had leaned her forehead against his arm, still clinging to his sleeve and still shaking.
"Why did he come?" he asked.
"For me," she whispered raggedly. She raised her head and looked at him, face white and eyes tragic. "You were wrong."
"About?" he asked, wondering why he felt a pang at the expression in her eyes.
"Him getting into my head—you were wrong."
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
Kagome stood on the dreamscape path where she'd spent her nights "walking" with Miroku. She was shaking, even now.
That…thing…had slid into her mind, shapeless, formless, but with such a malevolent presence about it that she had felt ill. It had dipped into her memories, then withdrawn. It hadn't taken more than a second. But it had been terrifying. She hadn't realized that it was done pillaging her mind until she heard Sesshoumaru's furious voice. And she had automatically moved toward him, knowing that he wouldn't let her die, because he'd promised, and he took his honor very seriously.
"Kagome-sama?"
Kagome looked around and saw Miroku standing there, face serious.
"Miroku-sama," she said weakly.
He didn't smile. "You met the evil this evening, didn't you?"
She shuddered. "Hai," she whispered.
Miroku stepped forward and began walking. Kagome fell into step beside him. Tonight, the dream had begun differently. Then again, tonight had ended differently, too.
"It was so evil, Miroku-sama," she murmured. "So…gods, I don't think even Kikyou could purify something so bad."
"Kikyou-sama isn't the one purifying it, Kagome-sama," Miroku said. "You are. And you've demonstrated, on several occasions in the past, that you are capable of power that surpasses even hers. You only lack focus, training."
"'Only'?" she repeated, sending him an exasperated look. "That's a pretty important 'only', Miroku."
Miroku shrugged. "It's something easily remedied. Sesshoumaru-sama's presence and kenjutsu training helps as well. He forces you to focus and apply yourself. I believe he is attempting to teach you control through combat. It's very effective training. But you haven't the time required for proper training." He looked over at her and smiled gently, encouragingly. "However, your meditation has been helping immensely. And the practice you engage in every evening with Sesshoumaru-sama only adds to it. And then, of course, there is you."
"Me?" she asked, confused.
He nodded. "You're the right type of person for something like this. Trust me when I tell you that you will not fail, Kagome-sama."
"I trust you Miroku," she said quietly, with feeling. She sighed. "I just don't trust myself. So much could go wrong…."
"Indeed," Miroku agreed. "And so much could simply fall into place."
Kagome grinned wryly. "Miroku-sama, this is ME we're talking about," she said with dark humor. "Fate positively LOVES to screw with me."
Miroku smiled at her.
"Kagome-sama, you're not a special case."
"Uh-huh," she returned, tone disbelieving. "So you say to the girl from the future who fell through a dried-up well that took her five hundred years to the past to fight youkai—"
"I know the story," Miroku politely interrupted, managing to keep a straight face.
Kagome laughed. "Just checking," she replied.
They continued on in companionable silence.
"Will…will Sango-chan come one of these nights too?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid to hope.
Miroku smiled gently. "Hai…when the time is right."
Kagome sighed, but accepted the answer—who was she to do anything but?
"You know," Miroku said conversationally, "we aren't the only ones you can dream with."
Kagome shot him a curious look. "Oh?"
"You could always dream with Inuyasha."
The air left her lungs, and Kagome felt agony shoot through her. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping for air.
"No!" she managed to get out. "No, not Inuyasha—NEVER Inuyasha!"
Miroku knelt beside her, one hand on her shoulder.
"All right Kagome-sama," he murmured soothingly. He didn't seem shocked or confused by her vehement refusal. "I only mentioned that you could. You don't have to."
She moaned, shutting her eyes.
"I don't think I could ever face him, Miroku, not after I left him like that…." she said brokenly.
Miroku said nothing for a long time, simply knelt by her and offered her the silent comfort of his presence and understanding.
"One day, Kagome-sama," he said finally, quietly, "you will have to confront your guilt. For now, you must concentrate on the task at hand…."
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
What a fucking waste.
The thought tore through his brain like a wind storm, howling and bouncing off the walls of his mind, echoing and repeating as Sesshoumaru's hand clenched violently, angrily.
Inuyasha, you selfish fucking bastard.
His brother's corpse had been cleaned and properly attended to by the elderly miko seated by the fire pit behind him. She had retreated there after showing him into her hut and gesturing him to the body laying in the corner. Decay had already set in; it had been pure luck that Myouga had happened upon Sesshoumaru while he was in the taijiya village.
He had not expected the sight that had greeted him: the hanyou was in his human form. When the old miko had seen his surprise, she had said,
"He died the night of the new moon, Sesshoumaru-sama."
"He was attacked?" Sesshoumaru asked quietly, feeling rage slide through him. He didn't know who he was angry at or even why. But he'd been living with the feeling for the past few days. Ever since the little one had died. He moved away from thoughts of her as the old miko replied:
"He was not—he jumped into the well in the darkness again. He must have tripped over the vines this time." She paused. "He missed Kagome," she said quietly, sadly, her voice hitching slightly.
"He died from a fall?" Sesshoumaru couldn't believe what he was hearing.
The miko nodded. He felt more than saw it.
"He broke his neck. I found him the next morning. He always comes for asagohan, and I was worried when he did not show up." Another pause. "He looked very peaceful, laying at the bottom of the well."
Sesshoumaru didn't reply.
The miko had retreated to her fire after that, left him to his own thoughts. Only one circled around his head:
What a fucking waste.
He wanted to snatch the corpse up and beat the dead bastard, wanted to shred his miserable body to pieces, wanted to howl at him for being so reprehensibly stupid, so inexcusably selfish…so unforgivably lonely. He bowed his head as a mixture of grief and fury roared through him.
He had never loved his brother. Not really. At first, he had felt pity for a child no one save its mother would ever be able to truly accept—it was that pity, and honor for his father's memory, that had stayed his hand. Later, he had been repulsed by him, but never to the point of absolute, total hatred. He really hadn't felt very much for Inuyasha—he felt a multitude of things about him. But that had been changing over the past five years. They had warily established a relationship. There was nothing remotely loving about it—in fact, they fought as viciously as ever. But there had been an understanding between them, a truce. Tolerance. Inuyasha was still a hanyou, and Sesshoumaru doubted he would ever completely change his stance on the matter of half-breeds. But he no longer blamed the son for the mistakes of the father. It was the most forgiveness he had been willing to bestow on his younger brother for what he was. But now…this…this was unpardonable.
Sesshoumaru had felt lonely with Rin married and living her life far away from him. He had accepted her into his life as a pseudo-daughter, a part of his family. He had missed her presence, and had felt his own solitude keenly for the first time in his life. On a whim, he had sought out Inuyasha's company. The blood they shared had urged Sesshoumaru to keep track of the other member of his small pack, to forge some kind of bond besides blood. He had not been entirely happy to do such a thing, but it had made him feel less isolated. He had learned to hate isolation. He had learned to dread being alone, something that had once brought him peace.
The little one really had made him soft.
And now, he truly was alone.
"You selfish son of a bitch," Sesshoumaru snarled tightly under his breath. "How dare you."
He had never taken Inuyasha for a suicide. The hanyou had always fought so ferociously, tooth and nail, for life. And yet he'd jumped down that useless well the night of the new moon, when he was at his most weak, when his sight was worse than useless and his reaction time off. It was as if he'd wanted to die, damn him.
He drew Tenseiga, knowing that the sword wouldn't be able to revive someone who had been dead for so long, someone whose soul had already been sent on to the next world. It was such a futile action. His jaw tightened as a small part of him waited for the healing fang to glow, to show him the pall-bearers. Of course, none of that happened. Tenseiga remained stubbornly dark, and Inuyasha remained stubbornly dead.
He sheathed Tenseiga, suddenly hating Inuyasha. For being stupid enough and fallible enough to die. For leaving him alone. He had no one.
"Bury him under his tree," he said to the miko behind him. "I will provide the headstone." He paused. "I expect it to be well-tended to, old woman."
He didn't know why he had said that. Only that some part of him did not wish to see his brother's resting place fall into disrepair. It was a stupid, useless wish. That knowledge did nothing to make the wish go away.
"Of course, Sesshoumaru-sama, it will be," the miko returned. "Inuyasha was well-loved."
He resisted the urge to snarl at the remark. The bastard didn't deserve love, he deserved contempt. He didn't share that with the old woman. Instead, he once more looked at his brother's face. Inuyasha did indeed look peaceful. For the first time in his life. An unfamiliar feeling welled up in Sesshoumaru, and he had difficulty swallowing.
His feelings for his brother had never been clear, never been easy. They were even more nebulous now.
He turned and strode to the door, shouldering the reed flap out of the way and striding out, into the dying day. He strode to the well, stood before it, watching it, hating it. In that moment, he decided to destroy the despicable thing and drew Toukijin. He held the sword for a moment, as still as the forest around him, then slowly slid the sword back into its scabbard. Destroying the well would do nothing. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, then turned and walked away.
I gave you a chance and you squandered it, he thought bitterly. You squandered it on a human woman, just like Chichiue. You stupid ass. I can never forgive you. Not for this. Never for this.
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
Kagome shot to her knees, gasping.
She was trembling and crying. And feeling so ill she thought she might throw up in another few seconds.
It was just a dream, she told herself frantically. It was just a dream.
But she had felt as though she were there, had felt everything Sesshoumaru had been feeling. Why? Why had she felt his fury and disappointment and bitterness…and grief?
"Are you satisfied?" he asked flatly from beside her.
"What?" she asked, voice shaking as tears slid down her face. She looked at him. He was staring straight ahead, face obscured by shadow. But there was no mistaking the rage in his voice.
"Are you satisfied?" he repeated. "You've made me relive things I have no wish to."
Her body jerked and she reached out and steadied herself against the tree they were under.
"No," she said raggedly.
He grabbed her and slammed her into the ground, pinning her down by the throat with one deadly hand. He squeezed, his other hand ripping into the ground by her head.
"WHY!" he roared as he reared above her. His voice had never sounded so demonic, so livid, so feral. It was scary.
"I'm not doing it on purpose," she sobbed. "I didn't want to know—I never wanted to know! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…."
She dissolved into tears.
Sesshoumaru glared at her, furious. With her. With himself. With Inuyasha. With Fate. She wasn't lying. He knew that she wasn't.
Oh gods, how he wanted her to be lying.
He let go of her and rose. He walked a few feet away, stood there, flexing his hands, then spun around and lashed out at the nearest tree with his claws. And he kept taking down tree after tree, trying to get the anger under control by purging it. Behind him, the miko's sobs gradually quieted. An hour later, he stopped, still angry, still dissatisfied. Still hurting. Why wouldn't it stop? Why did being so utterly alone in the world still hurt, after fifty fucking years?
She shuffled toward him, still sniffling occasionally. He stood still, eyes staring sightlessly into the night.
"Sesshoumaru?" she whispered behind him.
He remained silent. She stepped closer, placed a light hand that was meant to be comforting on his arm. He shrugged her off with unnecessary brusqueness.
"Don't touch me," he said, voice sharp.
She retreated a step, but didn't say anything.
They stood there in silence for a long time.
"I meant what I said earlier," she murmured. "I didn't do it on purpose."
He didn't reply.
"Sesshoumaru?"
"We have an hour to sunrise," he said, turning and walking back to the camp. After a second, he heard her follow in his wake, picking her way over the demolished trees.
He settled himself against the tree he'd been sitting under before, leaning back and closing his eyes. She timidly lay back down beside him, on her blankets. She pillowed her head on the end of his pelt, as she had earlier. And, after a long pause, she had very hesitantly clutched the end of his kimono sleeve, just as she had earlier, when she had still been frightened by the youkai. He let her now because he had no desire to speak to her, afraid that if he did the darkness that lived in him would stir again and he'd kill her.
Neither one was able to go back to sleep.
