WRATH
There were few things Kagura knew better than death.
Murder was one of the few skills she excelled in, something she could bring on with nothing more than the flick of her wrist. She felt no guilt for the lives she'd ended, the blood she'd spilled. Inconsequential, the lot of them, and she'd never had reason to question the value of a life other than her own.
Despite the terror she wrought, she was as apathetic in regards to her own violence as she was when it came to anything else she did. Naraku would have been the exception, had she survived long enough to kill him herself.
As loathe as she was to have missed the spectacle of his death―oh how she would have relished the look on his face―the simple knowledge of it was enough to appease her. She'd certainly grilled Kohaku for all the grisly details, and she found that she could live her newfound life without regret.
An uneventful life, but a free one. She could live quite comfortably with that.
Death is her trade, and yet as she throws herself to the sky and flies to her heart's content, she finds herself avoiding the sort of conflict that had painted so much of her former life. It's as if she's atrophied under such peace, and she doesn't quite realize it until―
She thinks she's found herself a cozy little spot, a patch of moss beside a shallow and slow flowing river. It's quiet, and Kagura sets down softly, intending to take a nap or a bath or whatever the hell she damn well pleases just because she can. Despite the changing of the leaves above her head, the weather is still warm, and when she dips her fingers into the clear water it doesn't yet have the icy bite of snow run off.
Kagura lets down her hair and unties her belt―her robes need washing, too, so she doesn't think twice about removing them before she wades into the river and ducks down til the water reaches her belly. She moves to slip the robes from her shoulders, but the slightest pitter patter of feet slapping against rock reaches her ears.
She freezes, ears twitching and trying to pinpoint the sound...
Across the water, partially obscured by a fallen tree, a small girl, no older than ten with a basket slung over her shoulders as she scampers across the stones and boulders that make up the opposite bank. She hardly weighs enough to shift the rocks beneath her bare feet, the only thing to give away her presence is the slap of skin against stone and her panting breaths as she skips along, searching for something. The girl doesn't notice her, too focused on her task.
Stupid little thing, Kagura thinks, no wonder human children die so easily.
With her bath ruined, Kagura stands, leaves her sodden robes dripping off her frame and picks her way through the smooth river rocks back to the shore, irritated that she'll have to find another spot up river to avoid the child screeching at the sight of her. Kagura rolls her eyes and doesn't bother fixing up her clothes as she reaches for the feather she'd left on the rocks, she only spares the girl a final exasperated glance―
And sees that she's frozen in place.
She can't see the girl's face, but knows that it isn't terror that grips her. The girl shifts her weight from foot to foot, dips her chin to the ground and then looks back up again, fists the hem of her dress in her hands.
Kagura pauses, curious what's got the child so nervous, until she sees a shadow beyond the fallen tree, and a man steps into her line of sight.
Even shaded by dead branches, he's unassuming, a bland face with a top knot pulled tight at the back of his skull; but his clothing is fine, far nicer than the girl's simple hemp robes. He doesn't see her watching, and smiles down at the child, and Kagura might think the scene quaint, if not for the way the girl leans away when he steps forward.
He speaks, and despite the strength of her ears she can't make out more than a mumble above the bubbling water, but he takes another step and the girl shrinks under his shadow.
Something sinks in Kagura's stomach.
He takes another step and kneels down―has to, with how tiny the girl is in comparison―close, and keeps talking, that disarming smile spread across his lips. The girl isn't looking at him, and Kagura might think she's in for a scolding if not for the man's smile, that oddly soft look in his eye, and the way he reaches out a hand to place it on the girl's shoulder.
She flinches, but still doesn't meet his eye, and something like annoyance flashes across his face, the smile falls away, but the girl doesn't notice because she's staring at the rocks between her toes, and she's still frozen when he removes his hand from her should and drops it lower, to grip her thigh just below the hem of her robe, his hand big enough to touch fingertip to fingertip around her leg as he moves higher―
Kagura moves without thought, urged on by the sudden fire thundering through her veins, heart beating louder than it ever has as her vision goes red and she can't see anything except for the man's hand where it should not be.
She lands, more like a collision, and the stones beneath her feet clatter with the force of her weight, but the man―stupid and human as he is―is a little too slow to register her presence.
"Move your hand any higher and it won't be the only thing I remove."
The scream that leaves his throat isn't enough to soothe the fury burning down her spine, if only because the girl looks just as frozen and nervous at the sight of a youkai as she had at the man's arrival.
"What the fuck were you doing?" Her words are barely more than a hiss, a snarl curling her lip and her rage fueling the winds that lash at the air around her, whipping her hair and the shallow puddles at her feet. He stutters―eyes wide enough to make her laugh if she was in a better mood―his mouth flaps, but nothing comes out besides mumbles and gasps and Kagura does not have the patience.
"I asked you a question."
She swings her arm, and a wind blade explodes against the stones near his feet and somehow he finds his voice.
"I―she―she is my betrothed and―"
Another swing of her arm, another wind blade slicing through rock, and he snaps his mouth shut.
"Girl." She tries to steady her voice. Kagura has never had to hone her capabilities for kindness. "Is what he says true?"
The girl hesitates, then nods. Kagura turns her gaze back to the man, tilts her head and pulls her lips away from her teeth in something resembling a grin.
"Quite a nice day, for a romantic rendezvous with your fiance, isn't it?"
He blinks, and then as if she's just told him some great joke, that simpering smile comes back to his face, and he nods excitedly, all she can see is his gapped teeth―that fury blazes up between her shoulder blades―
And then he is screaming, that vile grin made permanent as blood spills from his mouth, the gashes across his cheeks sloppy and uneven―embarrassing, that she has to claim such quick work―but his screams and his thrashing against the ground are like music to her ears, and she revels in his agony.
Beside him, the girl stares, wide eyed and now truly terrified…
"Girl―" she jumps, "do you have family?"
She nods slowly, trembling, as the man continues to moan against the rocks.
"Go on then, go and tell them your dear betrothed had an accident."
She hesitates, glances at the man at her feet, the blood pooling in the crevices between stones.
And then she runs.
Kagura watches until her shadow disappears into the trees before she turns her attention back to him, and takes a step forward.
Death. Violence. Bloodshed. All things she has mastered, refined, and yet when she looks down at the pathetic excuse for a human whimpering at her feet, she suddenly forgets all that she has learned.
"I'm sure that wasn't the first time…" the sickening crack! of her heel smashing through the bone of his shin is delicious, "...but I'm happy to let you know that it will be your last."
He screams, but it does little to assuage her.
First it is his leg, so that when he tries to run all he can manage is a pitiful crawl.
Then it is his hand, the one he'd used―a harder task, with the way he cradles his split face, but she manages―she grabs him by the wrist, and though her strength is meager compared to other youkai, she can still snap the bones of his fingers with ease.
Next she simply slices off the entire hand, tosses it into the water, food for fishes.
Death by a thousand cuts.
The river runs red.
Screams turn to moans, to silence.
In the moonlight, his corpse―mangled and mutilated―dances to Kagura's song.
…