Title: Two Draw the Arrow
LJ Community: iy no kakera
Theme: Set #2, Theme #99 - Participating Together
Genres: Drama/WaFF (what, don't YOU feel warm and fuzzy?)
Pairings: None meant to be there, though some, I suppose, could pull out IY/Kag and IY/Kik if they wanted
Rating: G
Summary: During the final confrontation with Naraku, Kagome is the last one standing, yet she is not alone.
Kagome stood in the middle of the destroyed clearing, her breathing harsh and ragged. The bodies of her friends lay strewn about the battlefield – some dead, some dying – but now was not the time to mourn them. Now she had to be strong.
The gaping wound in her chest, given to her by Naraku to match the one he had given Kikyou so many months before, continued to ooze blood. She was only still standing because she was able to purify the shouki that would have poisoned her. Grunting slightly, she somehow managed to heft her bow with her weary limbs and aim at Naraku once again. She did not realize it, but her resigned, battle-worn countenance caused her to look more like Kikyou than she ever had before.
"The gods are cruel, aren't they?" Naraku mused coolly, as though he hadn't just had half his body blown away by the power of a priestess. "They created you to be so similar to Kikyou in body and spirit, just to force you to atone for her sins, love as she loved, suffer in her shadow, and die by my hands as she did."
He was trying to incite her anger and cause her to doubt. At one time, it may have worked. She had often wondered if Inuyasha would have stayed by her side initially if she hadn't resembled Kikyou. But it didn't matter anymore; it was in the past. Inuyasha had learned that Kagome was Kagome. Kikyou had atoned for her own sins and sacrificed more than Kagome could ever have imagined. Her expression hardened and she readied her attack.
"No," she said firmly. "The gods created me to be similar to Kikyou so that, through me, she might defeat you once and for all."
Before Naraku's eyes had a chance to widen, Kagome let loose her last arrow. As her consciousness slipped into oblivion, she silently thanked the feminine, ghostly hands that had supported her bow and helped her to aim true.