Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha. There, I said it. Happy?
Author's Notes: I'm sorry if you do not like the story, but it's mine and I wrote it, so THERE!
Sango awoke earlier than the others. Something felt out of place. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew something was wrong. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the shadows.
Sango quickly turned her head, only to see her friends sleeping. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But then the words that her father had told her when she was nine rang clearly in her mind: Not all youkai let you know when they're there, Sango. If your eyes fail you, use your ears.
Obeying her father's long time advice, Sango closed her eyes, allowing her ears to tell her what was surrounding her. It was odd. She didn't hear a thing. Not even the sound of her friends breathing, or turning in their sleep. Her own pounding heart did not stir the silence. She was certain, that something was wrong.
Carefully, silently, Sango reached out and gripped the strap of her Hiraikotsu. Gently, she drew the weapon close, so she could grab it at any time. Letting go, she looked around again, trying to find the source of this unnerving silence.
Sango didn't have to worry about finding it. It found her. She felt something cold press against her neck and an arm wrap aggressively around her shoulders. She opened her mouth, but a rough hand covered it.
"Don't scream," a raspy voice whispered in her ear, "I don't want to harm you."
If you don't want to harm me, then get that dagger away from my neck! Sango thought, irate.
"Come now, we'd best be leaving," the voice murmured.
No way! Sango tried to yell, but her voice was muffled. Instead, she jabbed her elbow into her captor's stomach.
She felt the arm around her go slack and her attacker stumble back. Sango grabbed her Hiraikotsu and moved so that she was across from him.
"Don't bother!" the voice scoffed, though it sounded a bit out of breath, "You're coming with me anyways. But I don't want to hurt you!"
"Then why the hell were you pressing a dagger to my neck?" Sango demanded.
"So you wouldn't run."
"Well it seems to have done a lousy job!" Sango retorted, "Now tell me who the hell you are and what you're doing, or I'll make you pay!"
The voice made a strange sound. Sango realized that it was a laugh. He was laughing at her! What on earth gave him a reason to do that?
"How cute," the voice chuckled, "A young girl of sixteen is no match for me! Yet she thinks she can deliver some sort of pain! What a farce!"
"You bastard!" Sango yelled, "I'll make you eat those words twice over!"
"Go ahead and try," the voice laughed, "You're just a pretty face!"
Sango squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get a hold on her temper. Where was this strange person anyway? She had been facing him that whole time, yet hadn't seen the slightest glimpse of him. She couldn't hear him either, for he seemed to be the source of all silence in the world.
Sango opened her eyes and looked around. Wait a minute, she thought, How come no one even stirred when I yelled? Why am I the only one who woke up? She still couldn't see or hear him, but he had to be close by. He must've done something so that the two of them could only hear themselves speak, and the others couldn't hear them at all.
"What's wrong?" the voice taunted, "Aren't you going to attack me?"
There it is! Sango thought, releasing her Hiraikotsu.
There was a surprised "oof" and the sickening sound of flesh being cut into before Sango caught her weapon again.
Hesitantly, Sango crept over to where the sound had come from. She saw her attacker lying on the floor, unconscious. Surveying his face, Sango furrowed her brow.
It was a man, who looked to be not much older than Miroku. He had short black hair and black eyes that were half-closed. He was wearing simple green kimono and there was a katana at his waist along with a multitude of knives and throwing stars. He appeared to be a ninja, but something told Sango that he was not.
Then Sango realized something on his face that she had missed before: a blue mark on his forehead, in the shape of a spiral. Her suspicions were confirmed. This man was a youkai.