Yo. Welcome to chapter II. I do not align to a particular writing schedule, only that I promise to never abandon a story I feel confident in posting. With that means, when I have time to write, I do, and thus I can post two chapters within the span of a week, particularly as I try to get this off the ground and am feeling quite inspired. Don't expect the same pace, though I will try to write at least a chapter a month in general. It is what I attempted to do with Fortune's Disfavored, to varying success. Please, enjoy.
"You're a strange little bastard," Kagura muttered, staring at the white flesh-skeleton thing that had followed her from Yharnam. It seemed to decide if it wanted to have legs or not at random, usually just… floating along the floor, a sort of corporal tail merging with wherever it was moving. Seemed to find it easier than walking.
It wasn't enough that visually it was weird, though. She watched as it messed with a cup, putting it on the ground and tipping it over with a poke of its finger, pouring her tea onto the floor.
Her brow twitched in annoyance; she watched as it reached up, removing the strange hat atop its head. Its surprisingly long arms, considering its size, reached for the cup. It promptly placed the cup where the hat once was: atop its head. She sighed as it waved its hands together in a sort of childish joy. What a dumb creature. How annoying, that she had to deal with this little thing.
Though, it was interesting enough to offset her annoyance at its continued existence. Naraku couldn't see it or even sense it. And, if Naraku couldn't sense it, she doubted anyone, human or demon, could. It begged the question as to just what it was. There were demons capable of concealing themselves, but it was a sort of active concealment. In this thing's case, it just… no one else saw it but her. It wasn't trying to hide, conceal itself in any sort of way.
She hadn't realized the exact nature of it until, during a final conversation with Naraku, about his plans for her and this castle, it had climbed up through the floor and started trying to crawl up her leg. She remembered trying to shake it off, cursing the little thing in low mutters for interrupting her damn meeting with Naraku and revealing itself in the same move.
Kagura recalled glancing up from trying to kick it away. It was a memory that would be burned in her mind. She felt blood rush to her cheeks, and she rested her face into her palm.
Naraku had been looking at her like she was absolutely insane, and that was when she realized only she could see it. Whatever Gods there were, she prayed and wished she could go back and not have to live with that memory being reality. But here she was, and it had happened. Good had come from it, though. It had made her curious, wanting to test the capabilities of the little bastard that followed her around like a lost dog. A dog was probably smarter, actually.
Thus had begun a series of tests, remarkably simple. They all proved the same thing: it was capable of interacting with the world around it. She wasn't sure if the cup on its head would just appear as floating to others, or if when the little bastard grabbed it, it became impossible to see for others just like it. The biggest issue to figuring that out was how to test it without raising suspicion. No one could afford to suspect what she had at her fingertips.
Having a little incorporeal minion, capable of affecting the world around it? She intended to keep it a secret for as long as she could.
Kagura, loathe as she was to admit it, was getting a bit tired of referring to it as "little bastard" and "it." She needed to give it a proper name, if only to allow her thoughts to flow a bit easier. She squinted at it, trying to figure out a name. Reaching up, the bastard tilted the cup that was somewhat covering its wrinkled eyes, staring at her and tilting its head.
Slowly raising a hand to scratch the back of her head, a name came to her as they made eye contact.
Well… it was little, and there was one of it. She didn't want to give it an actual name; they said that was the first step in getting attached. A nickname could work, though, just something more distinct than bastard. "Little One," she said, addressing the thing. It clapped its hands together, cheering. No noise was made, though, in spite of its white flesh slapping against each other. Something else to note...
Nothing made sense anymore, Kagura decided, falling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. At least Naraku had seen fit to leave her alone here. He had left his puppet around, of course. He could never let anyone simply act; he had his hands in every plan, be they his or not. She suspected it was to flaunt his superiority over everyone when whatever plan came to fruition and a timely end.
His ego was truly monstrous, Kagura mused. He was beyond arrogant, holding everyone and everything in contempt. Admittedly, he… almost was everything he claimed to be? Naraku was strong, sure, but… 'a beast is but a beast, no matter how large. They bleed; they hurt; they die,' she recalled Vasyl saying, a certain gleam in his eyes at the time.
Vasyl hadn't been wrong. Everything could die. Even him, and he'd certainly seemed strong enough to stay alive. Kagura almost chuckled, but settled on shaking her head in disbelief. She'd thought him strong enough, if only for a moment, to maybe be of help against Naraku.
In the end, he'd been just another human. Sighing, Kagura turned her eyes to Little One. It was still messing with the cup on its head, and in fact now had the tricorn hat atop the cup which was resting on its incorporeal skull. She turned her eyes back to the ceiling, deciding to ignore all of… that. It was better for her sanity.
'At least Naraku isn't still around,' she mused. Whatever puppet he had left behind was off doing… something. It gave her time to think, at least until things got more active. Naraku's lesser demons had reported the wolf tribe's plan, and he'd relayed it to her. They'd be moving upon the castle anytime now, really. She was looking forward to playing when that time did come. It was sad, seeing how easily they were guided with just the possibility of gaining a few shards of that Shikon jewel.
Reaching into her new robe, she searched around in one of her pockets until she found the false-shard Naraku had given her. It was supposed to go to the wolf-demon tribe leader, one who already had two actual jewel shards. It was nothing but a fake; Naraku had made it from his poison and miasma. Anyone foolish enough to put it in them would die the moment the poison circulated their body. She fiddled with it between her fingers, passing it between them like one might a coin.
The real shards might have been useful, but ever since awakening, she'd found they lost some of their appeal. The shards could be embedded into someone, enhancing their strength, speed, everything, sure. Yet they could be removed, and that was before even getting into the fact that they were practically a beacon for anyone with even a slight sense for spiritual energies.
In the end, the shards were a tool. They weren't true strength. "Damn it," she muttered. They were certainly a useful tool, but worthless to her in spite of that. Her flesh was, after all, Naraku's.
A small, wasp-like demon, one of Naraku's favored creations, buzzed into the room she was in. Ah, perfect. Her boredom was coming to an end. Kagura flipped out her fan in a slow motion, a gust of wind forming beneath her to push her up to her feet. She dusted off her kimono, the design half red, half blue, one side with displays of birds and the other of flowers. It looked rather striking, she thought.
She waved away the wasp-demon as Little One floated over, climbing itself up to her shoulder. Giving it a glance, she shook her head and decided to focus… though not before grabbing that cup off its head and throwing it across the room, shattering it. She hadn't thrown the hat, though. She found herself staring at it for a few moments before setting it back atop Little One's head.
They entered, a multitude of wolf-demons, nearly all in their more human-like form, leaping over the walls of the small fortress without trouble. Kagura took methodical steps towards the courtyard, eyes scanning the crowd of soon-to-be corpses. None of them stood out as particularly strong. And, perhaps best of all, the wolf tribe leader, who actually was worth a damn, seemed to have stayed behind.
How Naraku had known he would, she wasn't entirely sure. "A girl," one of them called out, spotting her amidst their erratic gazes. They'd been looking around, no doubt curious where all the human guards were. She could see a few licking their lips as they stared at her. How… boring.
Kagura sighed. "Nothing but small fry. Oh well," She said, turning her head to regard Little One on her shoulder. It had begun clapping those tiny, bony, white hands together. There was still no sound, but she got the intent well enough. Who was she to disappoint?
She slashed the air in front of her with her fan, calling upon her dance of wind blades. Whatever wolf demon was at the front of the pack had only blinked in confusion before his head was sliced in two horizontal pieces. Watching one piece fall to the ground while the other hung by loose flesh to the rest of his body, all Kagura could do was feel disappointed. His body collapsed against the ground a moment later.
Her wind wasn't all that fast, really. She hadn't realized that before, but she did now.
With a step forward, she twirled her fan in another three quick motions, shooting out six wind blades. She had to give them a chance to be entertaining, after all. Most of the demons were looking at their dead comrade in shock. She watched two of them, the two she'd targeted, as it was, turn their gaze to her just as her dance of blades connected. There was a gush of blood as one of their arms was removed; the other had two deep, horizontal cuts across his chest. He fell to the ground into three separate pieces. The one that had lost his hand had also lost his leg, and she sneered at his cries of shock and pain.
She flicked her wrist, a gust of wind blowing across his neck. Blood gushed from his throat, staining the grass red. The glint of moonlight across the blood made the blades of grass almost glow, like the sheen of metal against the sun. It was… well, she wouldn't deny that it was striking.
The leftover wolf demons seemed pretty confused on what to do. Half were ready to flee, and the other half were already rushing at her. They were scattered, and that meant this was going to be even easier than it already was. Something about that made her lips twitch downward.
Four began dashing at her, their claws and rusty swords ready. Only… they were so slow. Another six crescent wind blades crossed the distance between her and the four rushing at her. She watched the one on the left in particular as her wind closed the distance. She expected him to duck aside, dodge and continue rushing her.
He tried to, to be fair, but he just wasn't quick enough. His chest was cut open and then only three were rushing her. She saw some in the background trying to flee, rushing towards the walls they once leapt over, intent on slaughtering the humans that they thought were here. That couldn't be allowed, could it? Adjusting her kimono and slashing with her fan horizontally, she didn't even bother watching to make sure they died as a blade of wind crossed the courtyard. She heard startled gasps and knew that they'd collapsed in pieces.
No, she turned her gaze back to the three still approaching her. How had they not gotten to her yet? She stomped her foot, narrowing her eyes. "You're all so weak," she sneered, flicking her fan once more and letting loose no less than a single dozen wind blades, and not one more. They were cut into so many different chunks she had trouble keeping track.
They couldn't just shrug off her blows, it seemed.
A mist had settled over the courtyard, her wind pushing it to and from across the courtyard. It was not a white mist, nothing more than light moisture in the air. Rather, it was tinted crimson, and struggled to stay afloat even with her wind traveling across the open ground and attempting to lift it up. It permeated the air, a pungent smell that she likened to metal, if only barely, and one impossible to dismiss with a wave of the hand or by covering one's nose.
The bloody mist slowly cleared, falling to the ground like a soaked feather, the wind desperate to keep it afloat, yet its fall inevitable. The last drop of glinted crimson met the tip of a particularly long blade of grass. What had once been a flock of vaporized blood, traveling to and fro, was no more.
Of the fourteen or so demons who had once stood in the clearing, only she remained. Kagura scanned the courtyard, unable to stop her shoulders from slumping. Had that really been it? She'd waited all this time for them to arrive, only for… that? She almost wished this place was more cramped, that she had been able to spread her demonic energies across this whole castle. It was unfair for them to have to fight her in such an open space. It was nothing like that maze of stone, nothing like Yharnam, with its deep alleys and narrow roads, the call of crows echoing over the screams of beasts-
Kagura closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She turned her back on the courtyard, bare feet carrying her back towards the castle. There was nothing else to do but wait now. One of Naraku's wasps would alert her when she needed to start making those corpses dance. Though, she did recall one thing she needed to do.
Swiping with her fan, she put the pieces of one of the demons back together while on her way back to the castle. She decided to go with one who had more simple injuries, choosing a particularly ugly demon, claw marks running across his left cheek and his head bald, who she had simply cut in half. His upper body connected with his hips as she willed it to do so, and she forced his eyelids open with a flick of her wrist. She threw Naraku's false shard at him, twisting her hand in a manner that had the wolf catching it. She gestured vaguely with her fan one last time, sending it on its way with a few brief commands.
Taking a stroll back across the courtyard, she let go her senses on that corpse in particular. It had a mission, and it was in a semi-animated state that it would understand what she wanted it to do. She'd even given it the exact words it was to say. The young wolf tribe leader, Kōga, would come running. By then, Naraku should have arranged for another group to arrive.
What a conniving little coward, she mused. He could easily just kill them- or, maybe he couldn't. It didn't matter. All she knew is that it was irritating that her fun had been so short… had it even been fun?
It didn't take long to find herself back in her empty room. Little One was still on her shoulder, though he was more subdued compared to his usual behavior. It honestly looked tired, which was weird. Was it alive; did it need sleep? She considered everything she actually knew about Little One. He was from Yharnam, wasn't he? Or, maybe not Yharnam, but that other place, the Hunter's Dream. Weren't they the same thing?
A part of her thought she'd never get back there. It was probably right, given she hadn't the faintest clue how she'd even got there. So, why was it stuck on her mind? No, that was a stupid question. It was obvious. How could it be anything but on her mind?
She could recall how… herself she'd felt there. It wasn't like now. She could tell who she was, obviously, but there was the constant taint of Naraku. Gah! Damn that place, for making her realize just how present the feeling was. She resisted a shudder, clenching her eyes shut and taking another long breath.
It wasn't likely she'd ever get back there. All the questions in her mind were going to remain what they were: questions. In the end, she ought to be grateful just to have Little One with her. Not because of some stupid, sentimental reason, but because she could see uses for him. Uses that just might make the whirling thoughts in her head worth it.
Kagura lowered herself onto the floor, taking a seat against one of the walls, uncaring for how she looked. She was the only one here, anyways. Naraku was out doing whatever it was he did, and here she was, utterly bored. No mystery, no intrigue, just four wooden walls, her, and Little One.
Truthfully, she didn't know how long it stayed like that. All she knew was that, eventually, she heard the buzzing of one of Naraku's insects, and she knew that the guests of the hour had arrived.
She pushed herself off the wall once more, twirling her fan and conjuring those dead outside to imitate life, even from this distance. Distantly, she could hear some yells and shouts, and she could feel the bodies she controlled get cut apart. Yet with a turn of her fan, whatever bits fell off reconnected once more. One of her poor puppets that had been in three pieces was now in five, but he moved nonetheless to her death dance.
There was a certain bore to this, however. She couldn't help but want to go out there herself, actually fight whatever fools were tearing through her puppets as easily as she had.
No matter what they did, though, they couldn't end her toys.
"Kagura," a voice spoke from behind her. She could feel the faint pull of Naraku from it, but it wasn't the demon who had born her from his own flesh. Glancing over her shoulder but not stopping the motion of her fan, she took in the favored form of his puppet. A white fur coat obscured most of it, and he had a strange, bone mask covering his face. She'd never understand his need for theatrics.
Still, she was forced to deal with it. "Kōga, the young leader of the wolf-demons is here," Naraku's puppet continued, "end your corpse dance," he demanded. She recalled Naraku's 'plan' to pin the two groups against each other. Admittedly, it was probably going to work, but there was something to be said about a straight-forward approach.
Hardly in a position to oppose him, her fan snapped shut. "How boring," she said, tearing her gaze from him and back towards an empty wall. It was a preferable sight compared to the puppet, and it had the added bonus of not making her stomach clench. "I was hoping to finish them all off."
"You will," Naraku said, turning his back to her, "Only one of them will survive that battle. You know what to do, then. I shall position myself to… impede their investigation." Kagura watched his figure disappear into one of the deeper rooms of the castle. She supposed she ought to reposition, as well.
Strolling through one of the back doors of the castle, she looked up at the night sky before turning her eyes towards the roof. With a gust of wind, she raised herself atop it, landing lightly. Soft steps took her towards the edge of the roof, and she was able to watch the fight below with… limited clarity.
And, admittedly, Naraku was right. She could see two humans- a girl dressed in black and what looked like a monk in purple robes- rushing into the castle where she'd been. They didn't matter, though. No, her focus was on the battle.
She grimaced, realizing she wasn't able to watch it in full. Kōga, obvious by his wear, covered in fur as he was, launched out with a furious, fast punch at whatever demon was on his knee, crouching. His entire arm glowed with the false power of Naraku's shard, though the fool didn't even seem to realize it.
The demon on the ground lashed out, meeting the punch with his claws in a furious deflection, his claws themselves glowing white. It helped, if only a little bit, as he didn't end up as paste in the dirt. His arm was limp, though. It was probably broken
Kōga didn't waste a second, launching forward with speed that made Kagura smirk, slamming his foot overhead at his opponent's skull. Said opponent dashed backward, and as Kōga's foot hit the ground and dirt was launched up, Kagura found herself inching forward closer to the edge of the roof.
The moment his heel touched the ground, Kōga pushed off, leaping forward with a punch that barely missed. His opponent tried to strike out with his claws, but in a smooth, familiar manner, Kōga stepped aside, twisting his body and bringing his foot around in a kick. It slammed against the white-haired demon's cheek, sending him skidding along the ground.
In a burst of motion, Kōga rushed forward, his arm primed back for maximum strength and Naraku's shard doing its work. His fist met the chest of his downed opponent, sending him, literally, cratering into the earth. There was no way he survived that, Kagura mused.
Not wasting a second- she needed to get down here, show this Kōga just who was the quicker among the two- Kagura leapt from her roof, using the wind to slow her descent into the courtyard. She ignored the human girl and strange fox-demon rushing towards the white-haired demon.
Kōga's ears perked up as the wind grew, and he glanced away from the corpse he'd created to stare at her. "Well done, Mister Wolf," she said, giving a cheeky smile. She could see a few bruises on his body, but he looked in a good condition to give her some fun.
"You've avenged your friends' deaths. Don't you feel accomplished," she taunted, gesturing with her fan towards the now crying human. Kōga narrowed his gaze at her.
"Who are you, bitch? A whore?" Kagura smiled, and she could feel her breathing grow just a hair quicker.
"I am Kagura," she greeted, pulling up the sleeve of her kimono and unfurling her fan, "And you are about to be hunted, little wolf." With but a snap of her fan, the corpses of his friends rose up in a cruel imitation of the living. He looked around, those little eyes of his so wide.
"Y-You did this?!" He said, fists clenched.
"Yes. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon… just like it was for them," she added, unable to help herself. Where was the fun if she didn't rile him up?
"Bitch! I'll end you!" He shot forward, and she wasted no time in moving the corpses of his friends- well, former friends- to confront him. Though, really, she wasn't going to use petty mental games like that for long. No, as the corpses converged on him, she let them go slack, their pieces falling to the ground.
At the same time, she conjured her blades of wind. Here, in this open plaza, the whole castle was at her command. She'd permeated her demonic energies for hours. It was layered in her yōkai. Launching forward a flurry of wind blades, she watched as he saw them coming from the corner of his eyes as his tribe fell apart around him.
He jumped up, leaping over one sharp edge of wind meant to slash deep into his leg. Smirking, she quickly took control of the wind around him, and with no small amount of pleasure, launched him into the dirt below. As he was about to impact the ground, the arm of his still embedded with Naraku's shard reached out, absorbing the entirety of his fall.
With a display of strength, dexterity, he flipped himself forward from his impromptu handstand. The moment his feet hit the ground he was already charging at her. Good. She summoned another flurry of blades, launching them at him. He dashed between them, dodging them with speed and precision. He was definitely the leader- well, former leader- of his tribe for good reason. She could tell he'd be skilled even without those Shikon jewel shards in his legs.
As he closed the distance between them and brought his heel down at her in an overhead kick, she batted it aside with a closely-formed crescent wind blade, simultaneously using a gust of wind to launch herself back and create distance. He recovered from his off-balanced state quickly enough, twisting his body and taking off after her.
She formed another gust of wind, slamming it into him with the force of a hammer. He moved his fist ahead to match it, and succeeded in doing so. With the power of the false-shard embedded into his arm, he was able to punch through her attack. Flicking her fan, she conjured another wind blade, this one far larger, and launched it at the ground in front of him.
It forced him to stop his charge forward, though Kagura paused in confusion when he seemed to stumble back. He fell to his knees, and she double checked to see if any of her blows had ended up landing. Nothing. He was bruised, sure, and had a few scrapes and cuts, some deeper than others, but nothing that should have left him like this.
The shard, she realized. The false Shikon jewel shard that Naraku had created, one that was little more than his poison. It had finally taken affect, no doubt from all the blood circulating from their continued fight. How… anti-climatic.
"I'd forgotten it would do that," she mused aloud. He was looking at her in confusion. "Hmph. Suppose I should end this." With a dreary gaze, she conjured her dance of blades, gusts of winds as sharp as steel slamming into his body and leaving him a bleeding mess. She snapped her fan shut as he fell forward onto his hands and knees. She noted that he didn't seem quite dead.
She hadn't exactly put her all into the cast, after all. Strolling over to him and giving a glance around as if she was in a garden, eyeing the bits of his friends still lying about in disorganized yet artful pieces, she ended up no more than a few feet from Kōga. Staring down at him as he was paralyzed, stuck on his hands and knees, she sighed. "Can't move, can you? It's because of that Shikon jewel shard. It's a complete fake, you know. Little more than crystallized poison and miasma."
What a fool, this wolf demon. "It's time to rip open and take the real shards from those legs of yours. Maybe I'll just take the whole legs, save me the trouble of a mess." She paused as he remained frozen on the ground. It was frustrating, that his own defeat had been due to the only thing that made him as strong as he was.
"Those shards are a crutch, you know," she explained, crouching down and using her fan to push his chin up so he could meet her eyes. "They're tools. They don't actually make you stronger. I've seen someone almost as quick as you, though maybe not as fast, and that was all him."
Why was she even explaining this? Huffing, she removed her fan and let his chin drop back down. It was time to remove those shards. Standing back up to her full height- she barely moved her head to the left to avoid an arrow. An enchanted arrow, some sort of purple energy surrounding it, continued flying past the intended target of her head. Though, watching as the arrow flew past her, she had her doubts it would have hit her at all.
Someone had attacked her. Glancing to the side, she saw that human girl. "Don't move," she said, notching another arrow, "or the next one hits."
Kagura's hip shifted, and she stared at the human. Was she serious? "You intended to hit with the last one too, didn't you?" The girl stiffened, and Kagura figured this would be swift and boring.
"Go ahead. Take good aim and try again," she said, rolling her eyes. How pitiful. Waving her fan, she called forth her dance of the wind blades, multiple crescent blades of air flying out at the girl. A gigantic sword intercepted them just before they would have cut her into pieces. She followed the blade to its wielder, seeing the demon that Kōga should have killed still alive.
He'd moved quickly to intercept her attack. Interesting.
"Kagome," he said, addressing the now named-girl as he shifted his massive sword to rest on his shoulder, "take cover."
"Inuyasha," Kagome muttered, staring up at him with shocked eyes.
"How sentimental," she said with a droll, her eyes shifting to stare at Kōga. "Mister Wolf, you failed to finish him off. Failed to save your friends and failed to 'avenge' them, too." She said, giving him another glance. He was glaring at her, how adorable. "Such a disappointment," she sighed, sending him away from her with a gust of wind and across the courtyard.
She focused on her new opponent. His arm was clearly broken, and while Kōga failed to kill him, he had put him in a rough shape. "Do you really think you can fight me in that condition?" she asked, curious. Was he delusional or just desperate?
"I could do this all day," Inuyasha said, adjusting the sword laying on his shoulder. "I'm not going to give you any mercy," he continued, narrowing his eyes. "I don't like the way you laid the blame for killing the wolf demons on me, or setting that idiot on me." He took a step forward, leaping at her with a yell a moment thereafter.
"But mostly, I fucking hate the stench of Naraku coming from you!"
She deflected his blow with her fan, a blade of wind following the path her fan took and meeting the sharpened blade. She pushed herself back with a gust of wind at the same time as he staggered from her deflection. "Good nose you have there," Kagura said, even as she felt her muscles tense. He could smell Naraku, which wasn't any real surprise. She was made from his flesh. But she was so much more!
He looked pitiful. One arm was entirely limp, his clothes were in tatters, and his breath heavy.
"I am the wind, and all the air around this castle is mine to command." She would show him just how far much more she was than her creator. She'd spread her control during her meditation at the temple, truly encompassing this whole area. Usually her control was more limited, but not here. Her namesake was Kagura of the Wind, and here, it had never been more true.
The air in the courtyard began picking up, and she watched with a smirk as it twisted, chasing itself at her command. Miniature tornadoes formed across the courtyard, devastating the ground it collided with. Ah, to be able to let loose! No interference, no partners to watch after!
Fully formed, they began moving across the courtyard with her direction. She launched one at Inuyasha, who barely managed to leap away in time to avoid it. She idly noticed the Kagome girl was at Koga's side, shouting some words of defense about Inuyasha personality. They didn't matter, considering they'd all be dead here soon.
"What a waste of time," Kagura commented, gathering the attention of both Kagome and Inuyasha. "He's already doomed. That fake shard in his arm spread poison and miasma. When it reaches his heart, well… no more wolf tribe."
"Shut up," Kagome shouted at her, and Kagura tightened her grip on her fan. "Just because you wouldn't bother trying to help someone doesn't mean it can't be done!" That… insolent little human.
"Why do you even care about him? He tried to kill your friend," she said. Really, was she dumb? Had she completely forgotten what had gone on?
"Because you tricked him!" Kagome screamed, quickly looking down. "You wouldn't get it. Not because you're a demon," she said, staring at Kōga, "but because you're a heartless monster." Kagome gestured around to the clearing, and Kagura followed, looking at the pieces of blood, flesh, and bones that had once comprised a tribe of demons.
This was a pointless conversation, Kagura decided. "And you're a corpse in the making," she said, turning back to Inuyasha. "Now, let's continue with our fun." Tornadoes still formed and spinning wildly, she summoned a few crescent blades of wind and launched them through the whirlwinds.
He blocked them with that sword of hers, aware enough to see them even obscured. She was almost impressed. His head would be a fine souvenir. "Kagome," Inuyasha called, "shoot an arrow at me!" Kagura raised a brow, but dismissed whatever their plan was. An arrow was no bullet. She could deal with whatever it was they were doing, but she didn't want to give them time, either.
It would be best to end this now. Converging her hurricanes, she directed them all at Inuyasha. Kagome's arrow sliced through her wind, purifying her demonic energy. Still, it was only for a second. She laughed. "You fool, the wind will flow back. I am in control!" She said, watching as Inuyasha stepped forward and sliced where Kagome's arrow had purified her energy.
"Wind scar!" Inuyasha screamed, and Kagura's eyes widened as a wave of his own demonic energy shot forward from that blade of his, tearing through the ground as it approached at a rapid pace. 'Wind Scar' her mind echoed. She barely had time to summon a concentrated blade of wind to try and match it, but it cut right through.
She lurched forward as it hit her, her robe falling apart and revealing her bare chest. That 'Wind Scar' had hit, gone right through her wind. Again. "D-Damn it," she muttered, stumbling forward. Her eyes trailed down to her bare chest, and she eyed the cut running diagonally across her chest. She had some difficulty bleeding. It wasn't life threatening, but damn, it hurt. A lot.
"Inuyasha!" Called a voice from behind, and she mustered up the strength to look and see that the monk and demon slayer had finally returned from Naraku's distraction. She needed to get out, now. Reaching for the feather plucked into her hair, she lifted both herself and it up in a gust of wind, the feather expanding to a much larger size, ignoring the heaving of her chest as she did so.
She looked down at the demon who'd done this to her. Inuyasha. "H-Hmph." She quickly ironed out any hesitation in her voice."We'll continue this another time; we're both equally injured." Naraku's little insects and minor demons began to converge on her, and she left before anyone else tried to stop her.
Once she was out of sight, she allowed herself to collapse forward, resting against the feather and feeling her chest against the soft material. Damn him! His wind had cut right through hers. That could not be allowed to happen! Not once, and certainly not twice!
But how could she improve? She couldn't just bolster her wind; it was already strong enough for nearly no demon to match! Nearly, being the key term. It was that damn sword of his, she realized. It helped him. She needed something, something to strengthen her own abilities.
"D-Damn it, this fucking hurts," she muttered, running a finger along the cut across her body as she rolled from off her chest to her back. It would heal, she knew; Kagura had regenerative abilities beyond most demons, but it would take time. Kagura took a deep breath, blinking as she felt something latch onto her foot. A look down revealed Little One.
"Go figure you show up now, little bastard," she said. It tilted its head in confusion, still staring at her. Kagura's eyes fluttered, and she realized how damn tired she was. Her chest burned, the wind against her bare chest was cold, and she could feel her eyes wanting to close and stay shut.
Eventually, they did.
"...You are a skilled hunter," the man in front of him said. He'd been waiting patiently when Vasyl finally scaled the ladder that led atop the tower where that accursed gun sat.
Vasyl took in his appearance, eyes scanning from top to bottom. His entire attire was an ashen white, and what looked like shreds of what once might have been a cloak rested across his chest. The rest of his ware vaguely resembled his own outside of that and a coat. A hat not too dissimilar from Vasyl's own sat atop his head, two sides framing the centerpiece and angled sharply diagonal, the back flap of a traditional tricorn hat removed, and a bandage was wrapped around his right eye.
"Adept, merciless, half-cut with blood, as the best hunters are," he continued, the strange device on his arm clicking. It consisted of some strange metal work he was unfamiliar with, a vague cylinder shape of steel and wood with some sort of lever hanging on the underside. A blade, fully extended and forged in the image of a stake, was drawn back into the strange device as if priming itself. His other hand held a blunderbuss- nothing he hadn't seen before.
"...Did you kill her too?" Vasyl asked, skipping the pleasant exchange and eyes glancing at the gatling gun that gleamed in the still setting sun. It almost seemed to glow gold like a holy weapon, mocking him. Djura shifted, though his eye never left Vasyl's own.
"I never saw the lass leave," he conceded, quickly brushing forward past the subject, "Why did you ignore the warning?" So, Lady Kagura, following his death, hadn't escaped that building. He had a hard time remembering his death; he liked to think he'd shielded her from all the bullets, but it was hard to say. Had the beasts converged on her while she was in a wounded state?
His knuckles clenched, and he held the handle of his saw cleaver just a hair harder.
"Those things you hunt? They're not beasts," The ashen white hunter said, his single eye narrowing, as if looking for something in Vasyl's own pupils, "they're people."
It was true, in a way. Those beasts he had slain by the dozen were people who succumbed to the scourge of beasts, perhaps through no real fault of their own .Yes, once upon a time, they had been people. Yet the truth remained that now they were beasts, and to delude oneself otherwise was foolish. The man looked away, no longer meeting Vasyl's eyes. Vasyl noticed the man's grip on his blunderbuss tighten.
"And for those below, who you slaughtered... they were of no harm to those above. This place? It was burned and abandoned by man. Yet you came here, ignored my warning, and killed them all. There is hardly anything to protect now."
Vasyl nodded silently. "You're a good man. Might I procure a name?" he said, pulling the lever near the base of his cleaver blade and flicking his weapon fully open.
"Djura," the hunter said, granting him his request. Djura was a good man. A man of principles. Of heart, though perhaps a weary one. He truly believed that, Vasyl did. Yet it did not change what he was going to do. Because Vasyl was fairly sure that, due to his actions, Lady Kagura was dead.
Dashing forward, Djura moved in the same instant; Vasyl's extended saw cleaver was deflected by the stake driver on Djura's arm. He quickly recovered, bringing his blade across the front of his body as he stepped to the side, parrying a strike from Djura's blade. Vasyl retaliated with an attack of his own, bringing his blade upwards and diagonally at his opponent, metal scrapping the stone of the rooftop and scarring it in remembrance of this clash.
It hadn't even come close to landing; Djura was far too quick. Vasyl's arm was left fully extended up in the air, and his torso was completely exposed. His fingers extended out and grasped the lever close to the base of his blade in preparation for his next move.
Djura slid forward, bringing his blunderbuss to bear and aiming it at Vasyl's chest, the weapon inches from his sternum. Quick as a flash, Vasyl snapped his arm down, his saw cleaver transforming to its more compact, manageable form. He brought the flat side of his cleaver in front of his chest in one quick motion, angled slightly as Djura's finger twitched and a bang sounded out atop the rooftops of Old Yharnam.
The bullets from Djura's blunderbuss impacted Vasyl's cleaver and deflected off, the metal glowing yellow as it impacted the stone brick ledge of their chosen tower, knocking them off and towards the ground below with the force of their impact. There was no time to pause, however, and Vasyl moved his cleaver in a backhand motion, the axe slicing at where his opponent had been a moment before.
Another close miss, Vasyl mused, as Djura twisted his body at a frankly unnatural angle to avoid the slice. Djura was an experienced hunter. If he had been hunting hunters who ventured into Old Yharnam for as long as it seemed, then he was likely far more experienced in this sort of fight than Vasyl was.
There was a brief lull as Vasyl and Djura circled each other like two snakes, each coiled to strike and waiting for the opportune moment.
Djura snapped forward first, closing the distance between the two in an instant and thrusting with his blade. Vasyl knew he couldn't parry it, so he stepped aside instead, aiming to create space after extending his blade. His blade transformed, but as it did so, Djura stepped inside his guard, leaving scarcely a foot of space between them. Vasyl felt his eyes widen as he tried to quicken his pace and create space between the two of them, hoping to be able to get a good swing of his extended blade and reset the pace of their fight.
Any attacks he made now would lack force behind them to do anything; Djura was simply too close, and he was not relenting. Vasyl was stuck in a constant state of moving backwards, twisting his body, and leaning aside to avoid each cut, thrust, and slash Djura launched.
Feeling a bit of blood flow from his shoulder as he had failed to keep pace with Djura's last lightning-quick attack, Vasyl tried to dash back to avoid another follow-up slash that was aimed at his chest but was unable to. His treated leather held up well enough against the metal that it wasn't a deep cut, but he was bleeding. And his coat was ruined. Damn.
Djura continued moving in a flurry, unrelenting attacks pushing Vasyl back towards the edge of the rooftop they were on. His clothes were practically in tatters at this point, multiple light cuts and slashes adding up. And, still, he couldn't do anything to stop it with Djura so close inside his guard. He had lost all control over this fight. Vasyl was well aware of what was happening; he was being funneled into a corner, only this corner was a cliff. Eventually, he'd be left with nowhere left to go.
His opponent overcompensated on a swing, perhaps expecting him to lose his cool? Regardless, he'd take advantage; he finally had enough room to actually use his damn weapon.
Vasyl gave an underhand swing from his saw cleaver, bringing it upwards and in front of Djura. In the same motion as his cleaver passed, Djura leaned to the side to avoid it, thrusting forward with his stake driver and piercing Vasyl's stomach. As it buried into his gut, Djura pulled a lever, and the stake shot even further into his stomach. It practically penetrated him from front to back.
"When the faint of heart joins the hunt, the hunter becomes the hunted," Djura said, leaning forward so close it looked as if the two were embracing. He could feel the hot air brush against his face. "You're good, boy, but a true hunter knows how to spot a pattern. You're predictable."
It had been a damn feint! Djura had left that opening- gah, he was a fool, falling for such bait!
He growled, fighting through his pain and triggering the lever on his saw cleaver, bringing the transformed blade down on Djura's extended wrist as quickly as he could. He just caught sight of Djura's pupils widening in surprise before he pulled that lever once more, the stake in his stomach retracting into its slot, pulling Vasyl's blood out with it, and giving Djura a chance to dash backwards. Still, Vasyl's saw cleaver caught him along his left arm, tearing a gash through clothes and spilling blood into the air.
Djura had thought him dead to rights.
Vasyl dashed into the still spraying blood, feeling it splatter across his nose and clothes. Some of it even landed against his still-open wound, and he could feel the properties of the blood that flowed through all of Yharnam do some light work. It wasn't enough to save his life if he didn't finish this fight quickly; that would require a more serious administration than just some stray blood in the air.
What it did do, however, was remove the blurriness of his eyes. It was hard to say what he felt, but he likened it to the full activation of his fight or flight instincts, and he was going to fight.
In three steps, the distance between himself and Djura closed. His first step, he brought his pistol forward and fired a shot. With his second step, he transformed his saw cleaver into its more compact axe form as the bullet he fired hit Djura's hand, causing him to drop the blunderbuss he wielded to the ground. With his third step, he leapt, slamming his saw cleaver into the ground where Djura had been standing.
Old hunter or no, Djura had proven himself fast, so he hadn't expected the blow to land. Naturally, it hadn't. Already Vasyl could see him out of his peripheral, priming that stake driver on his arm. Axe embedded into the stone from his leaping, overhead strike, Vasyl flung his arm back, saw cleaver extending and catching an overextended Djura, arm already coming forward in a thrust, against the side. Vasyl promptly ripped and transformed his blade back to its axe form in the same motion.
The saw cleaver was a weapon of savagery. It was built to hunt beats, cut through the thickest hides and tear as harshly as any beast claw could. When confronted with human flesh, then, it was no surprise for it to rip through it like a beast might a whore out and about on the night of the hunt.
Djura's blood painted the half of the roof not covered in Vasyl's own blood trail in dotted crimson, flecks of blood scattered about the cool stone and tinting it darker. Vasyl took two steps back, watching as Djura clutched at his wound. Vasyl could feel the burning of his abdomen, feel the air going to his head lessen. Spots of black filled his vision once more, and frankly, he was tempted to let the dream claim him.
But the temptation could not temper his fury. If he dreamed, Djura might escape before he returned. "I used to dream, too. Have you ever given some thought as to this hunt, and its purpose?" It came out ragged, Djura's words the words of a man who'd just found more of his blood removed than he would have liked.
"This place," Vasyl said, not turning his eyes from Djura but gesturing towards Yharnam as a whole, ignoring the burning across his abdomen as he fully stretched out, "holds secrets. I intend to unveil them," he finished.
"You still dream," Djura said, standing straight from his hunched form. "Come as often as you like. I'll show you a death for every beast slain below!"
He charged forward, and Vasyl moved to meet him. His axe met the primed thrust of the stake between its serrated teeth; Djura pulled the lever attached, the stake lurching forward and nearly sending his weapon flying out of his hand with the force of the motion. It did successfully send his weapon back, but Vasyl kept his grip.
As his arm was flung backwards from the force, Vasyl pulled the lever by the base of the blade of his cleaver, successfully extending it to its full length. Djura leapt forward in a frenzy, a slash aimed at his chest.
Eyes narrowed, Vasyl stepped aside and twisted, feeling the blade graze his back while he used the spin to swing his fully extended blade into Djura's calf. The burning sensation across his back was likely nothing compared to what Djura was feeling.
He stumbled forward, crashing against the rooftop before trying to scramble back to his feet. He got about half way there when Vasyl converged on him, swinging his extended cleaver. Djura gave a desperate parry. Sloppy. The sign of a cornered prey.
Vasyl's blow overpowered it, redirecting Djura's arm to the side. He struck out with his foot, kicking him in the chest to keep him off balance. His saw cleaver came down a moment later, and Djura found himself without a hand, his arm now a bleeding stump that cut off just below his elbow. The hunter looked in despair at his now removed arm.
He left him there for a moment, going and retrieving the blunderbuss he'd shot from Djura's hand. It was a useful weapon, capable of holding two shots. He wouldn't even need to reload it. Djura was working through his pain, grunting and making a few other anguished sounds. Vasyl stood before him now, blunderbuss in his hand.
Placing his foot on his chest, he pressed the blunderbuss barrel against his head. She would be avenged, now. Djura coughed as his head was forced against the stone. "It's you... You're the beast. Can't you see what you're doing? It's madness..."
Vasyl didn't say anything. Not in response, nor when Djura's brains scattered against the backdrop of grey and red stone atop this tall, solitary roof. He leaned down on weak knees, plucking the strange necklace off what remained of his neck. His hand was shaking, he noted, as he held the necklace. He stared at it for a few moments, taking it in.
The final memento of a good man.
His eyes fluttered open, and Vasyl lurched forward, abdomen clenching as his mind caught up with his heated breaths. His heart beat at a tune too fast to be normal, and as his senses came to, he slammed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
The dream replayed itself in his mind. No, not a dream; it was a memory. The only dreams he had involved a doll, a crazed, wise old coot, and a lonesome house on a hill, and were scarcely discernible from reality. What he had just seen was not a dream. Taking a deep breath, Vasyl allowed his eyes to open and glance around the space he'd found himself in. It was a cell of some sorts, though frankly the metal beams that were supposed to cage him seemed scarcely made to keep a man like him trapped here.
They were terribly rusted, bits of metal outright missing.
Vasyl allowed himself to rise to his feet, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his head. He had something akin to a fairly constant thrum back there, a sort of slight ache that was only noticeable if he sought to think about it.
At the moment, however, it was quite prevalent. It felt like something had cracked his skull, such was his ache. He tried to retrace his steps, attempting to figure out how, precisely, he'd ended up in this cell. As he recalled it, he had finished venturing through Old Yharnam, fighting through beasts before coming across some deranged, over-sized, blood-starved beast amidst the lower slums of the city. Quite the fight, that, as the beast had spit and spread acid with its every movement.
Still, a beast was but a beast in the end. He'd slain it with manageable injuries and only a handful of new scars.
He'd found the chalice Gehrman had sent him for, though he still wasn't sure of its true value. Gehrman had told him that it could be used to dive through the tombs and embolden oneself to become even stronger. Should a time come where he felt his strength was lacking, he might use it, but altogether, the trip had felt like a waste. Even if it hadn't been a waste, he was forced to wonder if it was worth it regardless.
A brief return to the dream had enabled him to use the spoils of his hunt to strengthen himself, and a few more blood shards had strengthened his cleaver. He had found himself in the Cathedral Ward once more, setting off to try and come up with a way around that locked gate, and his memories ended there. At some point, from that point on, he had ended up here. He supposed, given that he was in a cell, it was not entirely unfeasible he had been ambushed. They would have had to been skilled, indeed, to sneak up on him.
Well, he would make no better of the situation by staying here. Vasyl cracked his neck, approaching the rusted metal that might have once been a door to his cell. He put his foot against it, giving a practice kick to make sure he was aligned right before throwing his weight forward with a kick, pushing the cell door off its hinges and flying backwards until it fell, banging against the hard floor with a clattering sound that was practically deafening.
He took brisk steps outside his cell, glancing around at the large room he'd found himself in. He strained to hear if any beasts were heading his way, but all he could hear was some low mutterings off a path to his right. Not an entirely uncommon thing to hear during the hunt.
Flicking his cleaver open, Vasyl gave one look behind him before stalking off in the direction of the noise he heard. His steps were slow and poised, completely muffled, as the mutterings gained some clarity. It was the cries of a woman, getting slightly louder with each step he took further along his path. He could tell who was making the sound now, at least, but the words themselves were nothing to be made sense of; simple maddened cries that were common on this night of the hunt.
Very rarely was the source sane, and even less often did it not end up trying to kill him. He upholstered the pistol at his hip to be safe, acknowledging that even just a single, quick shot was valuable on the night of the hunt. Moving slowly down a staircase, Vasyl began to be able to make out the mad mutterings.
Only, they didn't seem so mad. "In the name of the Healing Church, cleanse us of this horrible dream," she said, words wavering and filled with stutters. He could practically hear her shoulders wracking in silent tears. Vasyl gave a slight glance over the railing, seeing a woman dressed in all black, holding another woman close to her body, concealing her almost entirely.
Vasyl continued moving down the staircase, looking around what was clearly a lounging room for whatever jailers manned this place. Only, like most places in Yharnam on this night, it was desolate and empty, the tables empty and without even a sign they'd ever been used at all. Now that was odd, Vasyl mused. Normally these places had at least a hint of actual habituation, but not here. Not a single blood cocktail, a loaf of bread, nothing. Strange indeed.
Approaching the woman, Vasyl wasn't sure how to best make his presence known without terrifying her. He settled on clearing his throat with a small cough. The woman's neck snapped over towards him, her mouth open in a silent scream of terror, her eyes so wide he thought they might pop out. "Quiet," he hissed as politely as he could, trying to keep her from alerting any lurking jailers of his presence here. He hadn't seen any on his way, but there was no way of saying they couldn't be coming.
"O-Oh thank the merciful Gods," she said, the tension in her shoulders dropping as she looked him from top to bottom, minding the woman whose head was resting in her lap, "you've come to save us, yes!?" He gave a nod, moving closer. He could direct them to Iosefka's clinic, like he had the young girl, or he could send them towards Central Yharnam. Once they navigated themselves out of this place, at least. "Y-You're a saint," she breathed, letting loose a heavy breath, "Oh, thank the Gods. I have no words to express my relief, dear Hunter," she said, bowing her head to him in an almost groveling manner.
It made him feel quite exposed. He was not a good man. That, he knew to be true; he tried to wave off her words. "I will keep you safe, my lady. What of the woman you have there?" He intruded, stepping closer to examine whoever it was. He could see that her clothes seemed to have been cut open. In fact, her wear seemed rather familiar, too.
"S...She rather just appeared, brave hunter, in this state." She paused, taking a stuttering breath. "There were many others, but they've been taken away. I've heard moans, echoes in the distance, ever since. I can only assume she was ambushed like myself by those hulking brutes in the Cathedral Ward." Vasyl nodded at those words absently, quickly realizing that it was probably what had happened to him. Still, to be ambushed by some hulking brutes, as she said... interesting. At least some good had come from it; he might be able to save the both of these-
It was her, he realized. Kagura. Vasyl stepped closer, discarding his saw cleaver and pistol to the ground and sliding to his knees in a quick motion, stopping right by her and the nun. He stared at the face he did not think he'd see again, taking in the pale, porcelain skin and stark, black hair, as well as those green, bead earnings that seemed to frame her features so well. "Lady Kagura," he muttered, reaching out and running a finger across her cheek. She was real. She was not some figment of his damaged psyche. She was alive.
Vasyl almost laughed, but it came out more akin to a choking cry. Oh, she was alive! She hadn't died in Old Yharnam, thanks to his failures! Djura hadn't… he hadn't killed her. Vasyl blinked, staring at Kagura's sleeping face. His eyes trailed down over her chest, and the sight of her bare breasts was offset by a scarred cut running diagonally across her chest. Judging by the color disfiguration with the rest of her skin, it was recent. He examined it more closely before determining that it was no real threat to her life.
She was alive. She hadn't died in Old Yharnam. Vasyl clenched his eyes shut, gripping the cloth of his trousers until they almost ripped.
"...Kind hunter?" The woman- a nun, clearly by her ware- said, trying to rouse his attention. "Do you know this woman?" Vasyl didn't trust himself to speak. He nodded, forcing himself to focus. Vasyl choked down whatever bile was trying to come up his throat, shaking his head and focusing. He leaned over Kagura, examining her for any serious injuries. He put two fingers on the underside of her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was… not there. His eyes widened, but there was no way she was dead!
Her skin was too lively, and he could see her chest rising and falling. Moving his head over hers, he placed his ear to her lips and felt the light, warm push of air against his bare skin. Yes, she was alive, that was certain. He must have misread her pulse… except he knew he hadn't. It didn't matter, he decided.
Vasyl placed a hand on her head, feeling to see if she had any sort of sickness. No, she seemed fine. As he removed his hand from her forehead, she released a sharp breath. His eyes stared into those red orbs, colored so similar to the blood he'd taken in his fury-
She was staring at him, he realized. He could see the slow dim of realization in those eyes, and he watched as her eyes darted around to take in her unfamiliar surroundings. The wheels in her head began to turn, and Vasyl saw her eyes pause briefly on the nun before shooting right back to him.
He chuckled, reaching up and lowering his mask. "It's good to see you again, Lady Kagura."
As good a place as any to end, I think. I tried to make Djura's and Vasyl's fight quite striking, as Djura is perhaps one of my favorite characters in Bloodborne. Please, if you have any notes or observations, let me know! I am trying to correct some mistakes I feel I made in regards to character development from Fortune's Disfavored, and am trying to write in a manner that is show, not tell.
Review if its towards your liking; it helps motivate me. Constructive reviews are all the better. If not, no worries! Until we next meet, have a good one!