Disclaimer:Nope. Inuyasha is most definitely NOT mine...:(
The wind whipped his hair backwards; he could feel his ponytail flapping in the wind and he could see his bangs parting around his face in unity with the strong breeze. The chain of his scythe rattled and he held the cold steel ball at the end within his fist. His fingers were closed tightly around it. The actual weapon itself was attached loosely at his hip. He was waiting. For orders or for death, it didn't matter which. He breathed in the pure scent of the wind and looked down into the valley below him.
"Kohaku!" A sharp cry from a voice he now recognized pierced his silence. He closed his eyes and turned around; hoping with what little hope he had left that it wasn't her. He hoped he was imagining her voice; the voice that took him back to the very few good memories he remember and the one terrible one that was now too vivid in his mind. He couldn't live with the guilt. He knew what his destiny held and what he must do.
He faced her. She had brought that monk with her. The one he knew she cared so much about. Kohaku offered them little more than a stone-cold stare. He heard the light buzzing behind him and knew he was being watched. Appearances had to be kept. Gripping the handle of his blade, Kohaku lithely pulled his weapon off of his hip and into his hands. He pulled his feet apart and took up a fighting stance. He waited for the signal; he waited to start the fake fight that took a toll on his heart every time. It brought him back to the memories of when the fight had been very real and when he had killed his friends and family. He had almost killed the girl that was now standing on the ground a few feet away from him.
She held the strap that latched her deadly weapon to her back with one hand and she reached out for him with her other. She took a few careful steps towards him. He noted grimly that they were wearing the same slayer outfit. Their weapons were made of the same demon bones and most importantly—they had the same blood pumping through their veins.
Her hand reached up to touch his face tenderly. He let her hand linger on his cheek for a moment before pulling back. Forcing the tears out of his eyes, he flung his weapon at her; he threw it at his own sister! The monk placed himself in front of the flying weapon and the girl with her defenses down. His solid gold staff coupled with many years of training and practice made it easy for him to deflect the weapon straight back at the user. Kohaku gave a chain a sharp tug and the blade found itself safely back into his hand. He formed a look void of emotion and placed it on his face. She would be less likely to get closer if he didn't let his emotions show.
"Kohaku…" her hope faded quickly as she realized he was still under Naraku's control. Miroku remained in front of her with his staff out defensively. He knew Sango was not in a good state to fight. His robes made a flapping noise as they whipped violently in the wind. Sango continued to stare hopelessly at her brother.
A pulsing pain etched through Kohaku's back. His mind felt like someone was tugging at it. He clutched his free hand to his head as he struggled to maintain control. He felt Naraku's evil presence in the back of his mind. It felt like a miasma was released into his very soul. He knew it was slowly tearing him apart. Through the darkness of the pain, he stayed focused on Sango's face. That face that he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried. The face that had brought him back his memories and helped him cope with the pain. His vision blurred as Naraku's command grew. It formed into words now.
"Kill them. Kill them Kohaku." The evil voice boomed from his thoughts. He felt himself struggling for control with Naraku's orders. He heard the Saimyosho behind him buzzing in agitation at him for going against the order. He knew the only way to relieve some of the pain was to act on what Naraku bided him. He still retained enough power over himself to not enact it completely, however. He threw his weapon directly at the monk. With ease, the older man swept the blade off to one side with his golden staff.
Miroku used the opportunity of Kohaku's distraction to run right at the boy. He intended to knock him down and disarm him. Kohaku backed up as he pulled on the chain of his weapon. He realized it wouldn't return to his hand in time. Taking another step back, Kohaku found himself at the very edge of the cliff. He looked behind him and panicked for a moment as he saw the stones he knocked free plummet down into the valley deep below. The monk was almost to him now and Kohaku panicked. He didn't want to die like this.
Miroku saw that Kohaku was at the very edge of the cliff. He would have to pull him forward instead of pushing backwards. Kohaku ducked out of Miroku's hands unexpectedly and gave him a swift kick to the stomach. Kohaku thought he was preserving his life. He knew his sister wouldn't kill him, but he didn't know what the monk would do. He never meant it to end how it did.
Miroku flew past Kohaku, his direction changed by the kick to the stomach. His momentum hadn't slowed down, however, and he found himself barreling for the edge. There was nothing to stop him with; there were no hand holds or trees to slow down on. He dug his staff into the ground, but it was too late. The inertia flung him directly over the edge and before he knew it, he was free falling down the side of the cliff with only the wind and the scream from Sango to keep him company.
"Miroku!!" Sango screamed with everything she had in her as if by sheer words alone, she could bring Miroku back up from over the side of the cliff. Grasping Hiraikotsu tightly, she cautiously made her way to the edge of the cliff. Kirara accompanied her, whining a soft sorry as if to apologize for being to far away to have possibly caught him before he would have hit the bottom. Sango looked over the edge. Miroku's staff was stuck in the ground near the edge. It glittered in the sunlight, marking the monk's final moments.
Sango felt a tear slide down her face. Her hopes for love and a peaceful future had gone over the side of the cliff with the lecherous monk. She brought her hand up in a fist in front of her. Rocks crunched to her immediate left. Feeling her emotions building, Sango swung her arm around and felt it connect with her younger brother's face. He flung backwards and landed roughly on her back. Sango kept her fist raised in front of her. She had never remembered ever feeling so angry in her entire life. She had never hated Kohaku. After all the people he had murdered, after all the things he had done, Sango had never harbored angry thoughts for him.
This was different. Kohaku had killed Miroku. She had loved the monk, even with all his pervert ways. She knew she wouldn't have changed a thing about him. She had never even gotten the chance to say she loved him and she had never had the chance to hear him say it to her. Kohaku scrambled to his feet and dropped his weapon at his feet. He lowered his head in submission to whatever was coming. Lost in the anger and sadness, Sango drew her sword and charged at Kohaku. He dropped to his knees. He didn't think he deserved to live after what he had done. Hadn't he put his sister through enough? Now he killed the man she loved. It was an accident, but he knew she would never see it that way.
Before she could make it to Kohaku, Kirara had placed herself between the two siblings. Sango slowed to a stop and realized for the first time that there were tears cascading down her face unchecked. It seemed she had been crying an awful lot lately. She remembered earlier in the day when Miroku had held her in comfort to her tears. Who would hold her now?