"Is there anything more heartbreaking than drowning in the sight of land? Is there a single one of us who hasn't at least once felt haunted by the fear of slipping away within sight of a safe haven?" - Carsten Jensen
If there was ever a time Inuyasha truly cursed his superior hearing, it was in that very moment. The screams were deafening, the abruptness of people scrambling in fright cutting through his ears like a knife. As the sounds of gunfire filled the usually hushed space once more, chairs flew and bodies collided with each other in their frenzy as the situation became clear.
There was an attack on Taisho Corp.
Like a shockwave, the scatter was immediate. Groups piled into the conference rooms at the far end of the gargantuan room while some took the liberty to storm down the stairwell placed only for emergencies. Those who were too terrified to make a break for it barricaded themselves under their desks, allowing the all-consuming feeling of mass hysteria to get the better of them.
The three women decked out in armour and weaponry galore appeared unmoved by the scene they caused, merely waiting for the ruckus to die down. An eerie quiet took over the room for a small, insignificant blip in time, Inuyasha's ears flattening to his head as he could hear the blood pumping through his veins.
Something inside Inuyasha snapped. A small spark went off in his brain, so tiny and timid in amongst all the white noise. A spark that he wanted to nurture and care for and bring to life. A foreign sense of calm came over him, turning his limbs into lead and forcing his mind into limbo. Barely aware of his actions, Inuyasha's fingers began to glide over the acrylic of his keyboard faster than his brain could keep up with.
There was a faint shout in the distance, the disjointed realisation of it being his own voice in his own head disappearing before the thought had any time to solidify. In the blink of an eye, a holographic interface for a program that shouldn't have been there popped up on his desk. He paused for a breath, possibly two. It had already been too long. He didn't think; he typed.
Mere seconds passed as reams of code flowed from Inuyasha's fingers and into the ether, mind numbing as he became less compos mentis with each tick of a clock. He didn't know what he was typing; he just knew he had to.
5 seconds. A line break here, a bracket there. Text whirled before him in a language he'd never used, swarming the display.
8 seconds. The edges of his vision began to blacken, the thump of a migraine breaking its way into the mix and smacking him hard between the eyes.
10 seconds. Just a little bit more. Inputting the last character of the cryptic piece of code, he hit enter.
12 seconds. That was all he needed.
The projection blanked before thrumming back to life, a bright, garish red filling the illuminated space. The emblem of a viscous white dog appeared in the middle of the display; its red eyes slanted with pupils of bright blue glaring through its virtual confines.
He froze, fixated on the image as if it were going to jump out and maul him. Tunnel vision kicked in full force, drowning out everything that was going on around him. He was completely and utterly unaware of the three shadowed figures making their way towards him.
Everything went black.
For Inuyasha, it seemed consciousness was a fickle bitch. Making sense of reality had never been his strong suit, an act that required careful thought and patience. Two things he sorely lacked.
Wading in and out of his surroundings, he tried in vain to focus on the sounds that were muffled as if he were underwater. But this time, Inuyasha couldn't help the distinct feeling that it mattered. That this time, he needed to pay attention.
This time, he needed to wake up.
Blood pumped through his veins like a river, a rush of something he might describe as excitement flitting in and out. There was a vague familiarity with the feeling, one that he couldn't place.
One that he didn't want to place.
An alarm, loud and piercing blared to life, echoing through his mind.
A shout, a scream, the bellowing cry of someone that he might know.
The scent of blood, fresh and thick and inviting.
The rush was thrilling, igniting something in his body that was so bone-deep that he could feel it etched into his very soul.
He felt the whisper of cool air washing over him, bringing some relief to the surging heat that emanated directly from his core.
Once again, he was dragged under, mind waterlogged with the inky blackness he was so familiar with.
"R...Roku...wha's goin' on?" Inuyasha's mouth was dry, the kind of dry that only came once in a blue moon. He was covered in sweat, droplets racing down his face as it poured from his brow like a faucet, soaking his once pristine white shirt in the process.
Taking a gasping breath, Inuyasha started his exercises, focusing on the top of his head, down to his shoulders, over his arms and hands...where he could feel a burning itch within his claw-tipped fingers.
His vision cleared, the unnerving realisation dawning on him that his eyes were already open, yet unseeing. Raising a hand to his face, Inuyasha blanched at the sight. Claws that could usually be considered menacing had extended to nearly double the length, displaying a horrifying picture. He blearily looked up to find Miroku rushing around his apartment, hell-bent on whatever it was he was doing.
"Miroku..." the man in question snapped his head up then, the look of complete desperation covering his face fading as he caught sight of his visibly shaken friend.
"Man... come sit down, Ok? We'll get you sorted out," he approached Inuyasha, manoeuvring him to sit on the couch as if he were a toddler needing to be coddled. The treatment made him rage.
Inuyasha lunged from his seated position, startling Miroku into stumbling back and tripping on his own feet. His ass slammed onto the armchair near him, complete bafflement overtaking his features. Inuyasha took inventory of his surroundings and panic set in as he gathered they were back at his own apartment with no idea how they got there. Eyes halted on the opened hatch that sat above his couch. That certainly hadn't been there before. Or…he didn't know that it was there before.
"You...you!" Inuyasha pointed accusingly at the other man, losing his increasingly sporadic train of thought at the reminder that his claws weren't quite right, watching as they oh-so-slowly retreated to their usual length. His stomach dropped.
Golden eyes levelled with violet ones, intent on finding something that was clearly hidden beneath the surface. As the silence stretched on, Inuyasha's lip twitched in poorly concealed anger. It dawned on him then, the gravity of his situation. Something was happening to him, had been happening to him for fuck knows how long and his 'best friend' had been in on it the entire time. He had been so fucking stupid. So fucking blind.
He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to rip the sheet metal off the suffocating walls that surrounded him with his bare hands. But more than that, Inuyasha wanted answers. And the prick in front of him had them.
Moving to grab Miroku and shake the truth out of him if need be, he stopped short at the sudden impression of a solid weight in his hand. Looking down, Inuyasha gaped at the object, the unawareness of its existence before unsettling him further.
A sword -older than dirt by the looks of it- was clutched tightly within his grasp, knuckles white with the force he held it with. Battered black covered the sheath made of...wood? That was a rarity, a material he was profoundly unacquainted with. The crusty old wraps that covered the grip had seen far better days, and he wasn't sure if it was worth a lot or completely worthless. Swords belonged in fairy tales, not in some data analyst's ordinary little apartment.
But as he took in its appearance, a tickle of familiarity egged him on. Inuyasha raised the sword to his face for a closer inspection. There. That scent.
His feet moved of their own accord, ignoring the frantic pleas Miroku sputtered after him as he shouldered the door to his room before it had a chance to open for him. He punched the panel to his closet, the door opening with a whine as its electricals were obliterated. He fished through the discarded shoes and fallen clothes on the floor, articles flying through his room before he came across the box that he had been looking for.
He threw it onto the bed, continuing to ignore whatever Miroku was saying as he flittered around him like an erratic, aggravating bot. He was but a buzz, a minor distraction from Inuyasha's attempt to connect the dots. He opened the box, the stale smell of something old wafting throughout the room as it was opened.
There, nestled on top of a few other insignificant pieces from his past, was the old red robe he'd kept hidden for nearly 20 years. It looked the same and yet, entirely different from how he remembered it. Gingerly, he ran the pads of his fingers over the rough material, surprised at the quality of such an item given its obvious age. Thick and clearly woven with care, Inuyasha lifted the article from the box and held it in the hand opposite the sword he'd come to wield. Glancing back and forth between the two, Inuyasha just knew he should have been able to put two and two together. But he couldn't.
Whirling on Miroku then, he took the two steps he needed to get in his face, a snarl ripping from his throat for the first time in years. He felt bad for a moment, albeit a brief one, when he saw the poorly masked twinge of fear flash through Miroku's eyes.
"Talk."
Miroku opened his mouth to speak, cut off abruptly by Inuyasha bringing his arm up to cover the lower half of his face. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as the acrid stench of sulphur and smoke stung his nostrils. An instinctual reaction to the sudden onslaught to his senses, Inuyasha grabbed Miroku harshly and dragged him over to the glass wall covering one side of his bedroom. He paused momentarily to really think about what he was about to do.
The overpowering smell of plastic and smoke and something was increasing by the second; nauseating wouldn't even begin to describe the sickness that came with it all. They needed to get out of there.
Inuyasha wrapped the sword in the red robe before slamming his fist into the glass, a hairline fracture emanating from where it had connected. Not good enough. He reeled back again, throwing all of his weight into it and following through with a force he didn't know he possessed. The glass burst spectacularly, chunks falling hundreds of feet onto the street below them. There still wasn't enough room to fit a person through, so he kicked the remainder of the glass out.
Inuyasha hoisted Miroku onto his back before peering down onto the street below. The sight stopped him. A few floors below his, he could see the smoke and flames billowing from the vents of the complex. Miroku's floor.
He turned his head to look at his best friend, a look that promised a world of hurt and a damn near endless conversation. For once, for the first time since Inuyasha could remember, Miroku was silent. An odd revelation, considering the circumstances they'd found themselves in on this fucked up Monday.
Turning back to their escape route, Inuyasha took stock of the area surrounding them, noting absent-mindedly that he'd never really noticed the buildings around him before now. Across from them was a small platform nestled between the floors of a skyscraper, a little lower than he would have liked. It would have to do. Taking a deep breath and praying to anything, Inuyasha hefted Miroku up a little higher for better leverage, pausing for only a moment's hesitation.
One step, two steps and he launched himself from the gaping hole that used to be his window. Miroku's alarmed shout cut into his ears harshly as they soared through the air, eyes set on his destination. It was hard for Inuyasha to ignore the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, his friend emulating a backpack as he practically flew through the night sky. Still, not the weirdest thing to have happened lately.
They landed without grace on the platform's smooth cement, skidding to a halt as they nearly collided with the wall of the structure. Inuyasha shrugged Miroku off, a small part of him happy to see him tumble to the ground. He threw the wrapped sword at his feet, the clatter echoing off the wet walls.
A moment too soon, a burst of heat assaulted them brutally, not unlike that first bombing they'd experienced a few days prior. Shielding themselves as best they could from the blast, it was more than a few agonizing moments as the chemical reactions simmered down and the brightness of it all dissipated.
Astounded, Inuyasha stumbled over to the edge to peer down at the scene unravelling in front of him.
Screaming. Crying. People dying. Someone had blown up the entire building.
Walking through his once pristine neighbourhood, Inuyasha surveyed the decimation in complete shock. Detachment consumed him as the smoke and dust that coated everything like a thick miasma choked him. He pushed through it; he needed to see.
See what had caused this, what had ended so many lives all at once. Some faces he found vaguely familiar ran and tumbled through the debris, panic thick in the air everywhere he looked. They were fortunate. Anyone above his floor surely was no longer of this earth.
Inuyasha stood transfixed, looking up at the shell of the building he'd called home for more than a year of his life. Contorted metal and charred shapes littered the once strong frame, a far cry from the sleek housing it boasted mere moments ago. He flinched at the sight of an appendage near him; one he couldn't quite make out.
Taking a step back, the urge to high tail it back to where he'd left Miroku on that little platform that saved their hides was overpowering. Distractingly, Inuyasha's nose twitched as an enigmatic scent infiltrated his senses, breaking him free of his stupor as he frantically looked around the mass of people to pinpoint it. Her.
Jogging along the ruined path, he let his nose lead him to where he needed to be. There, at the outskirts of the mayhem was a familiar bike, leaning up against some railing that had survived the explosion. But it wasn't the bike he was interested in, no. It was the three women that stood, watching everything unfold as if it were no more than a show.
He picked up his pace then, hoping to corner them before they noticed him and had a chance to flee. He was only feet away as they finally took note of his appearance, the one closest to him drawing her gun to hold him off. As if that'd work.
With an alarming swiftness, Inuyasha slapped the offending weapon out of her hand, a shriek of indignation leaving her as his hand collided with hers. This girl, this girl, the one that had blown up the shop on Friday night, the one who had unloaded fucking bullets at his place of work, the one that had blown up his fucking home...
Anger the likes of which he'd never felt swam through him and he grit his teeth at the bitch that seemed to be the root cause of all his problems. A clawed hand raised to grasp around her throat, and he hefted her off the ground, bringing her face closer to his so he could get a better look. She tried to thwart him in vain, twisting in his grasp as she swore colourfully.
He ripped the glasses she sported away, taking note of a pretty face with a defiant look in her chestnut eyes, one which exacerbated him beyond belief. The other two watched on with caution, weapons drawn on him as they waited for his next move. He didn't so much as spare them a glance, eyes blazing into those of the girl he held so deftly in his grip. If he turned his attention to Kagome, his resolve would be no more.
"Who the fuck are you?" He fumed, breath catching painfully from the fumes still billowing around them.
Before his life became about bombings and strange girls and terror attacks, he'd always teetered on the edge of bafflement. Uncertainty. Doubt. Now though… now he was sure. For the first time in a long time, Inuyasha felt the veil that had covered his eyes lift.
When no one made a move to appease him, Inuyasha grit his teeth at the girl in his hold, fingers tightening ever so slightly in warning as a low growl built within his chest.
"Inuyasha, it wasn't us," Kagome's voice cut through, smooth like goddamn butter. He was pathetic.
He threw his glance to the left, locking eyes with Kagome behind those stupid glasses as she kept her gun aimed steadily on him. He cut quickly back to the one he wanted to take his anger out on because he couldn't do it with her. Never her. The absurdity of that wasn't lost on him.
"Alright Firestarter, start fucking talking right the fuck now. Otherwise, you and your little cronies are gon-"
"Inuyasha Taisho."
His interrogation was barely underway as another voice -strong and clear- drew the attention of the group. Inuyasha swallowed thickly, the resonance of that name breaking through every noise that surrounded him.
His heart thudded painfully in an attempt to leap from his chest. A white-hot flush took over his entire body, igniting every nerve ending and barraging his senses overwhelmingly.
He felt the elongating of his fangs, the sting of them cutting into his bottom lip numbing almost instantly as he turned towards the voice that had called out to him. His nose twitched wildly as every little irrelevant scent from the world around him intensified tenfold. His ears flapped wildly around his head, sounds that he'd never heard before seeping through the cracks. Three heartbeats and quickened breaths roared to life behind him as if someone had turned the volume up to thunderous.
Inuyasha's vision blurred, tinged with an unnerving red as he zeroed in on the silhouette of a man in the distance. He dropped the girl he'd been dangling carelessly to the ground in a heap, completely forgetting her existence along with his reasoning. He took a step towards the new arrival, eyesight sharper than ever before.
He smiled then, a haunting thing. The whisper of a ghost played in the back of his mind, propelling him forward and onward as his world once again became dark.
Turns out, Inuyasha's luck had finally run out.
Fin
