Chapter Fifty-Two: The Power of Belief

Warm, morning sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating Kagome's slumbering face. Nestled in her futon on the guest room floor, she tossed and turned as the light stirred her from her sleep, aided by twittering songbirds as they flitted from tree to tree outside. Dark gray in color, her eyes cracked open, blinded by the golden brilliance, but slowly, they adapted, and the world came into focus.

Band-aids covered her hands and forearms and when she moved to sit up, pain prickled her legs and feet. For a moment, she sat confused, her hair a wild and knotted mess. But when she inhaled the sulfur on her skin, the previous night came surging back. Sesshoumaru, warm and strong, carrying her into the hot spring and soothing away her pain, both physically and in her heart.

She poked at one of her band-aids and felt a tingle of discomfort. Then as she bit her lower lip, she peeled it back. Underneath, she found healthy, pink skin and the thin line of a scab, already flaking away. She shook her head in disbelief. Five days' worth of healing after one soak. He was right. The hot spring does have healing properties. She examined the soles of her feet next, noting that the deeper cuts were mending better than she could have hoped. She'd be able to walk without much pain.

"…You are the rock. Not Inuyasha and I. Because you're the thread that binds us. We only became our best selves through… you."

She was that important to them? In the face of a species' inevitable end, her actions and her belief in them mattered that much?

"You saved us both."

Her eyes itched with impending tears and she rubbed at them with the heels of her hands. Then she gently slapped her face, refocusing her thoughts. This wasn't the time to cry over fate or a dark future that's already passed. The city needed their guardian and he needed her. He needed all of them. His family.

Terse shouts echoed throughout the shrine, blowing away the last of her melancholy like a gust of wind.

Numb to any pain, she was on her feet and at her dresser, pulling out a change of clothes. She threw them on and ran her brush through her hair, careless as she raked out the knots, snapping strands.

Then she burst out of her room and raced down the stairs, taking two at a time as she headed towards the front door.

Grandpa and Souta hung by the doorway, peering out into the courtyard. Beyond them, Bikini Girl leaned against one of the giant, saber teeth that framed the entrance and past her was Tora. A broomstick in his hand, he held it ready, his body squared with the trail leading up to the shrine.

"Who are you?" he shouted in a hard voice, one she scarcely recognized, his typical affability absent.

"Now look," a man replied coolly. "I'm not your enemy and there's not a lot of time."

Squeezing through the crowded doorway, Kagome slipped out and trotted across the courtyard until she could see the trail. There she discovered a man in a suit, his shoulders slouched with exhaustion. An old trench coat lay folded over his forearm and sweat drenched the armpits and collar of his shirt. Atop his messy mop of hair sat a battered fedora, pushed up and askew.

"I said, 'Who are you?'" Tora reiterated, and he gave the broomstick an intimidating twirl.

"Look—"

"I won't ask you again."

"All right. Fine," he conceded, waving his hands in a pacifying manner. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to ask for help."

With his jaw set, Tora waited.

"My name is Nakagawa Eiji," he said, pulling on the lanyard tucked into his suit vest until his identification swung free. "I'm a detective with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force, and I've come looking for the Demon of Namidabashi. I need his help."

"You're who?"

"It's him," Souta replied. Emboldened by his sister's approach, he now stood in her shadow, gesturing towards the detective. "He's the one that got me and Sesshoumaru through the checkpoint when the cops were after him that one night."

"Hey kiddo," Nakagawa greeted him with an uncle's charm. "Glad you're all right."

"The night at the docks? When Sesshoumaru was blinded?" Tora asked.

Souta nodded. "He gave us those business cards. Sesshoumaru didn't want them, so I gave them to mama."

"Mama, huh?" Nakagawa noted and scanned each of their faces. "Do you all live at that shrine? The Higurashi Shrine in Tokyo?"

They stared at him, eyes wide, their silence his proof.

"A couple days back, I received a text from a number registered with the shrine's address. It was from a woman thanking me for my open-mindedness and hoping that I'd be willing to do one more thing for her family and that was to come out here and find you all."

They glanced at each other, their distress etched on their faces. Except for Tora. His attention remained pinned on Nakagawa.

"You're a detective and you came all the way out here and climbed up this damn mountain over a text?" he asked. "That doesn't make any sense."

Nakagawa hedged, averting his eyes.

"You went there, didn't you?" he accused, his anxiety and powerlessness boiling out of him, raising his voice. "I've spent every day calling her number. No answer. No ring. I even hopped the train to a busier station down the line, hoping that it was just the messed-up cell reception around here, but nothing changed, like it was a dead phone." He pointed his finger at him. "But you've been there. You went to the shrine. What did you find? What happened?"

"Yeah, I did," he admitted as he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his wet hair. Then he put it back on, wisps clinging to his forehead. "Someone had been there. Probably at the same time I received the text. There was a struggle. The family room was destroyed. They threw the table and turned it into splinters."

The broomstick clattered onto the ground.

"She got her," Tora muttered and began to pace, rubbing his face with both hands. "The day we left, the oyabun came for her, looking for us. We shouldn't have left her behind."

"Was she…?" Kagome started to ask, her voice drying up in her throat.

Tora paused and the others watched her, their eyes wide and weary.

With a deep, shaky breath, she asked again, forcing the words out, "Was she… there?"

They turned to the detective.

"No," he replied.

Audible relief rippled through them.

"Whoever came for her," he added, "It looks like they took her alive. There's evidence that she welcomed them into the house. Maybe even tried to negotiate with them. It didn't go her way and I suspect they took her back to their headquarters as bait for all of you."

"She welcomed her into the house and tried to negotiate with her?" Tora asked, gesturing emphatically. "She knew that she was coming for us, so she pushed us out the door and tried to handle it herself. What is with this family and self-sacrifice?"

Nakagawa's brow furrowed. "Who's this other 'she' you keep referring to?"

"The Shikai Clan's oyabun is a woman," Kagome explained.

He blinked, surprised.

"Screw this!" Tora exclaimed, and he turned on his heel and stormed towards the shrine entrance. "I'm getting my stuff and I'm going back to Tokyo."

"Tora—" Kagome pled.

"They have her!" he shouted back at her, his eyes red and glossy. "I love her, and they have her."

"You're doing exactly what they want," Bikini Girl assured, her arms crossed against her chest.

"I don't care."

"Panicking will only get you killed by the oyabun. Or tortured which will put the rest of your family at risk."

"I said I don't care," he repeated. "I'm going back and I'm going to save her."

"Maybe if Sesshoumaru—" Kagome began.

"Have you seen his hands?" he asked incredulously. "The oyabun is a damn kirin and he's half-dead from trying to get his %$ #ing gauntlets to work. I'd last longer than he would at this point." He shook his head. "No, I'm going and none of you are stopping me."

"Hey, punk," Grandpa called out to him.

Tora spun around to glare at him.

"Yeah, you," Grandpa grumped.

"What is it, old man?" Tora spat. "I know you don't like me, so let me have it one last time if that makes you happy."

His chin trembling, Grandpa took a deep, steadying breath and then nodded, girding his resolve. "I'm going with you."

"What?"

"She's my daughter. My only child. I can't lose her either. Not without a fight, so I'm going with you."

His jaw agape, Tora stared at him.

"I'm going with you, so let's go. We don't have long before the next train."

"I…" he stuttered.

"Well? Get down so I can climb onto your back."

Slowly, his bewilderment lifted, and he nodded. "Yeah, old man. Let's go." He knelt onto the ground and gestured for him to get on his back. "We don't have a lot of time."

Hastily, Grandpa hobbled from the entryway towards him.

"You're being foolish," Bikini Girl warned as he passed.

He sighed and touched her arm gently. "I'm sorry, but foolishness is a family tradition. It's in the blood. Centuries of brave idiots trying to save the world."

Before she could reply, he gave her a reassuring pat and slipped away, heading for Tora. When he reached his back, he placed both hands onto his shoulders and another set of smaller ones joined him.

Souta stared up at his grandfather, his despair streaking his face.

Both men turned towards him, the boy's pain reflected in their eyes.

"I want to save her, too," he said softly, and then blindly rubbed at his tears with the back of his hand. "Take me with you."

"Souta-chan…" Tora began, "We can't—"

"Take me with you," he begged louder, his voice cracking.

"I can't risk you, too."

"But I want to save her."

"We're all going to save her," Sesshoumaru interjected.

In unison, they reeled towards the forested path that wound up the mountainside to the forge and gasped.

Steadying himself against a conifer, Sesshoumaru met their shock with sunken eyes and pallid skin, its porcelain luster gone. Even his hair seemed gray, dark and tarnished. As he leaned for support, gravity bowed his shoulders and back, pulling him down as if to his grave.

And yet he resisted it, staggering towards them, his will prevailing.

"Sesshoumaru," Kagome called to him, her words muffled as she cupped her mouth in horror. "Did you start training again after I went to bed? Have you been training all night?"

He frowned, and for the briefest moment, shame flashed across his gaunt cheeks. Then he glanced down at his forearms and hands and at the raw, weeping flesh caged in his gleaming gauntlets, and sighed, his voice rasping and hollow. "The oyabun and her clan won't wait for me to master these weapons at a leisurely pace. Even before your mother's capture, I didn't have weeks or months to prepare and train. I had days at most."

"But—" she began.

"He's right," Nakagawa interrupted, "In fact, there's less time than that even."

They turned to him.

"That's why I made the hike," he explained, then quickly amended, "Other than for the sake of your loved one."

"What happened?" Sesshoumaru asked.

"Something went down last night in Marunouchi and now a gang war is ripping through Tokyo. That yakuza clan you're referring to, well, it seems like a schism erupted in the family and they're tearing themselves apart."

"Like how the Kuro-Sakura Clan destroyed themselves years ago?" Tora asked.

"Yeah, kind of like that. Blood in the streets and concentrated around a tower in the Financial District, one suspected of having yakuza connections, and in occupied neighborhoods in poorer areas, like old Namidabashi."

Bikini Girl snorted. "And at the center of it is a supernatural beast who can level buildings and burn everything to the ground. A being whose presence alone can bring the strongest to their knees. That's what you'll be facing when you go back. Chaos and overwhelming power. None of you have a chance."

"But we can't cower here," Tora insisted, gesturing to the shrine. "We have to save their mother. And we have to save the city. Or die trying."

"No," Sesshoumaru objected and he gazed down at his mangled hands, clenching them into fists. "I do."

The courtyard gravel began to rattle.

Barely a breeze at first, wisps of youki churned. Slowly, the power grew, gusting as it spiraled around him like a tornado. The torrent tugged at his clothes and swept up pebbles and pine needles. His polished gauntlets luminesced, burning bright white as they absorbed his power and expelled the scent of ozone.

Jaws dropped, they watched him, barely blinking.

Then Kagome looked away. She could feel it. The discordant energy between his youki and the gauntlets. They were eating him alive, gulping down his power where there were only sips left in him.

His youki fluttered and the whipping winds turned choppy, flinging debris through the air.

Through gritted teeth, he grunted as his power sputtered. The gauntlets dimmed and fresh rivulets of blood and fluid dripped down his forearms and hands.

After a final burst, his youki dissipated, and he collapsed onto his knees in a spray of gravel. His chest heaving, he gasped for air, tendrils of saliva oozing from his mouth. Like dead weights, his arms hung from his shoulders, swollen and angry. He stared at his hands and his shame lasted longer than a flash.

An eerie silence fell over the forest, and the group stared at him, sharing his shame.

"Stop," Souta whispered. Leaving Tora's back, he shuffled over to Sesshoumaru and wrapped his arms around him in a hug, resting his head on his shoulder. "I don't want you to die. I miss mama. I don't want to miss you, too."

"…You are the rock…"

With a hesitant step, Kagome felt herself being drawn forward, memories of her mother's reassuring smile and touch playing though her head. She needed her mother now more than ever. Her family needed her now more than ever. And yet, for Sesshoumaru, she was the rock. Not her mother.

A heavy sigh rolled through Sesshoumaru, the weight of the boy's heart almost unbearable.

His eyes downcast, Tora shook his head. "Sesshoumaru, you're going to get yourself killed faster than any of us if you keep pushing it. Stay here and recover while we do what we can. Maybe after a few days, you'll figure it out and save us all." He spied back at Grandpa. "C'mon, old man, hop on so we can get going."

"…The thread that binds us…"

The gravel crunched under Kagome's feet, but she barely felt the stinging. Everyone was unraveling, torn apart by fear and desperation. Their own personal gang war. And there were no family meetings over curry to pull them back together again. There was only her and her resolve.

"Some punk and an old man," Nakagawa scoffed, "If this oyabun is as powerful as you're saying, what the hell are you two going to do other than spit into the wind?"

"Hey! You're the one who came out here looking for help," Tora growled as he hoisted Grandpa onto his back. "You've got no reason to complain."

He jabbed a finger towards Sesshoumaru. "I came out here looking for his help. I came here looking for the Demon of Namidabashi. Not for a couple idiots eager to add themselves to the body count."

An argument exploded between them, despair roiling to the surface and expelled as rage.

"We only became our best selves through… you."

Reaching out, Kagome touched Sesshoumaru's shoulder. She could feel his thinness. His exhaustion. But his strength was still there. Youki whispering beneath the surface. Pride, too. Not in himself or his station, but in his family and in his city as their spirit of hope. It was in his will to serve them and keep them from harm. To protect that which made him happy. Yet, that devotion wasn't enough.

"You saved us both."

Such things must flow both ways.

"I believe in you," she said to him, her voice nearly drowned out by angry shouts.

He blinked, and his dull eyes rose from his hands to her gentle yet proud face.

"I believe in you," she repeated louder.

Her words dragged Souta from his lament next. Rubbing his tears away, he spied up at her from Sesshoumaru's shoulder, listening.

"I'll always believe in you," she continued, "In our past and in our future, across time and space. No matter what. Because… I love you. And not just me. Your family loves you. Just like you love us. Just like you believe in us. And right now, more than anything, you need to know that."

"I believe in you," Souta murmured into his ear, then gave him one last hug before letting him go. "I love you and I believe in you."

"If you succeed. If you fail. It doesn't change," she added and took a step back, giving him an affirming squeeze before she slipped away. "We'll always love you. We'll always believe in you."

Gold light glimmered in his eyes and he nodded. Then his attention rested on his ravaged hands. His fingers twitched and through a grimace, he slowly closed them into a fist.

And the gravel began to rattle again.

Her face reflecting warm confidence, Kagome joined Souta's side, reaching for his hand to hold, and together, they waited.

"We'll always love you. We'll always believe in you."

Youki swirled and buffeted against their bodies, ruffling their hair and pulling at the hems of their clothes. It blustered in their ears as it gusted. His gauntlets glowed hot, blinding white. The same as before, and now, he poured all he had into them.

The arguments and shouting died, stripped of their rage like the nearby conifers were stripped of their pine needles. With forearms raised, protecting their faces, the others stared in awe as the torrents surged.

Then came the hum.

It was quiet at first. Dismissed as a trick of the mind. But Kagome could feel it. The harmony between the gauntlets and the youki, resonating together where there was only discordance before. She smiled. Reciprocation was the key. That's why they were gauntlets and not swords. Hands that can build and break. Or that can give and take. Like love. And belief.

"I believe in you," she called out to him.

"I know," he replied.

The hum grew louder, vibrating the ground. The air around him rippled, distorting his slumped figure on the ground. Then gradually, the winds lifted him up. A radiance suffused his body with silver light, obfuscating him further from their eyes.

And an old feeling struck her, turning her skin to gooseflesh. How many years had it been since she felt that power?

"Souta," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're about to meet the real him."

With a beaming grin, he scoffed, "I already have. This is just the badass version."

A halo of long hair radiated from Sesshoumaru's head and his molten gold irises turned bright red and swallowed up his sclerae. Eerily, he smiled, his mouth filled with sharp teeth. He hung there, buoyant on currents of power. A monster. A demon. A daiyoukai of old.

And with an elegant flick of his wrist, he dispelled the power, sending it spiraling back into his gauntlets.

Rocks and rubble pelted the ground.

And he landed on his feet.

Everyone stared, primal instincts about predators and prey prickling their nerves, and they began to eye the closest cover.

"That was so cool!" Souta shouted, his exhilaration turning him jittery.

Unimpressed, Sesshoumaru shrugged as he ran his fingers through his long hair, wrinkling his nose at the loss of his bangs.

Kagome gestured to her forehead and cheeks. "Your crescent moon and stripes are back."

Turning his wrists to spy at his old, familiar, magenta markings, he snorted. "Fleetingly so, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"The gauntlets amplify youki," Bikini Girl interjected as she strode across the courtyard towards them. "They don't generate it, so they can only work with as much as he channels into them," She smirked at him, "Now that he's learned how to do it."

"So, that means…"

"I have a time limit," he explained. "If I exceed it, I will die. My power at a price."

"Your power," Bikini Girl corrected, "And a chance." Then she turned on her heel and met everyone's eyes, lingering longer on Grandpa. "And with a chance, you might win. So, let's get you all suited up."

Tora frowned. "I thought you couldn't make enchanted weapons."

"Punk," she scolded, "I'm Bikini Girl and I come from a prestigious line of weaponsmiths. I have toys. Believe me."