A/N: At long last, this fic is ready for me to finish it. I am truly sorry for the long wait, and grateful for your patience.

I'm sure that by now I've forgotten a hundred little details-- forgive me if I contradict myself in any major point.

Enjoy!

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Chapter XXXIV: Flame

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there's thunder all around me and there's poison in the air

-Great Big Sea

The night wind was impossibly cold against the blood drying on his fur.

Myouga yammered incessantly in his ear, saying things which were completely obvious and completely useless. "It's impossible! It's too risky! My lord, please reconsider! You have yet to recover at all from the wounds received battling Ryuukotsusei! Master!"

Inutaisho appreciated the concern. He really did. However, he was running towards something much more important than his recovery, or even his life. He was running towards something he would die a thousand times over to protect. No paltry wound would stop him from reaching that goal. "I will not allow them to kill my son," he told the flea, hoping that he would take the hint and leave Inutaisho to focus all his attention on running.

Myouga, unfortunately, had never been a master of subtlety. "But--!"

"I do not have long to live in any case," he snapped.

"Master!" cried Myouga, sounding heartbroken.

Inutaisho spared a moment to regret being so sharp with him, but only one. There was so little time left for him that he could not afford to waste any of it by being angry with old friends who only meant well. He did not answer. Instead, he used his remaining breath to run as fast as he could. He had only managed to create a small version of his usual massive demon form, but in a way it was beneficial to him. He could run among the trees instead of having them stab the sensitive pads of his paws. Even if his steps were smaller, obstacles were fewer like this.

Abruptly, the ground ran out beneath his feet. He stood at the edge of a great cliff overlooking the castle he had built to protect his lover, which was now being used to protect his lover from him.

"I am coming for you now, Izayoi," he growled, and leapt into the void.

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Sesshoumaru looked up to the blood moon and narrowed his eyes.

"What need have I for something to protect? Ridiculous."

But there was a stirring in his heart, a remnant of the little boy who thought his father always right, who wondered now if his father still knew things he did not. He quashed it ruthlessly, but knew deep within himself that the wondering would never die. Someday far in the future, when he was older and wearier and perhaps wiser, it would awaken again to whisper in his ear.

But for today, he was still strong, and there were enemies left on the battlefield to slay.

He turned his back on the silver waves and drew his sword.

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What little moonlight there was left died. Darkness reigned.

Takemaru looked upwards to where the moon had been until a moment ago and narrowed his eyes. Just then, the ground rumbled ominously beneath his feet. The moment of judgement had finally come. He was not afraid.

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Tetsusaiga sang with wild joy as he let its energies tear across the rough road leading to the gates.

Arrows flew at him, but he ignored them. They were nothing, propelled by weak human bows and weak human arms. The most they could do was make him bleed a little more, and compared to the wound in his side, it was like adding raindrops to a thunderstorm. He was already dying. A few more holes could hardly hurt.

"Izayoi!" he cried.

There were feebly stirring bodies all around him, but he hardly spared them a glance. They were mortal, breakable, and they had chosen the wrong side yet again... just like the village army when he had first met Izayoi. If they were not wise enough to understand the balance of power, they were not worth his mercy. Izayoi was worth more to him than thousands of them, and there were only a few dozen here.

"Izayoi!"

There was a man walking out of the shadows who did not smell of fear. Inutaisho knew him.

"How courageous of you to come here, mononoke," said Takemaru of Setsuna. "I'm afraid you're a bit too late, however."

The light of the torches was dim, but Inutaisho could see the self-satisfied smirk on his face. Ice spread through his gut. He knew of this man's feelings for Izayoi, and he had seen the capability for madness, but he had never really believed he would give in to it. He had misjudged. He could smell blood on the man-- blood he knew very, very well. "What?" he asked quietly, death echoing through his voice.

Takemaru grinned wolfishly. "I have taken my princess, my Izayoi, to a place where you will never reach her. I, with these hands!"

Despair rolled sickeningly over Inutaisho. He nearly gave up then, but forced himself to stand strong and wait for proof that the man spoke the truth. Even if she was alive, however, he had spilled her blood. Inutaisho would never, ever forgive him for that. "You fool," he hissed furiously, and readjusted his grip on Tetsusaiga.

The human-- stupid, more foolish than any language he knew even had a word for-- drew his own sword and clattered across the courtyard towards him.

Inutaisho met him halfway. He was wholly focused on the doorway beyond Takemaru, and barely registered when his battle training adjusted his body and swung Tetsusaiga to cut perfectly through the human's right arm. He didn't spare a moment's attention to make sure he was incapacitated before racing onwards towards the horrifying smell of Izayoi's blood.

Behind him, he heard Takemaru cry "Set the fires! Burn the accursed place down, along with the mononoke!"

Of all the futures Inutaisho had envisioned for this castle, it burning to ash at the behest of one of its protectors was not one he had envisioned. It meant little to him, however, compared with the realization that somewhere within it was a woman he would build a thousand castles for, and that she was bleeding. Flaming arrows struck the roofs and the castle burst quickly into flame. It was made mostly of wood, after all, it was only natural that it would be so weak and perishable. He didn't care. The castle was only a tool to care for that which it held.

The smell of Izayoi's blood was strong on the air... far too strong for it to be simply birthing-blood. His worst fears roared to the forefront and he struggled to keep calm.

"Izayoi," he whispered.

The shoji was aflame. Inutaisho walked through it as though it were not even there, following only his nose and ignoring most of what his skin and eyes told him. In the middle of the room was a silk tent, only just beginning to burn, and from within it came a demanding wail of hunger and fright. He gracelessly tipped the tent off to the side, where it set the floorboards on fire, and stared down at what lay beneath it: Izayoi, side pierced with a crude spear, eyes wide and blank.

She was dead. There was no mistaking the pallor of her skin, the sightless staring of her eyes, the stench of stagnation which seeped from her pores.

For a moment he simply stared down at her, unable to cope with the sight of the person he loved most in the world alongside his son with her eyes filmed over with death. She had always been almost intolerably vibrant, so human and alive he had had much difficulty dealing with the sheer amount of energy she emitted. She had always been constantly in motion, and now she was perfectly, horribly still.

It was wrong. He could not reconcile the staring doll sprawled across the sheets, an infant shrieking unheard between her stained hips, with the swift, bright, compassionate woman he knew.

It was intolerable.

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Izayoi screamed and screamed and screamed.

There were only two colours in Hell: blood red and shadow-black. She was blinded and dizzy and surrounded than more people than she had ever met in her life, crowding and wandering and aimless like legged blades of grass. She could not breathe, could not think. There was so much pain. The very air seared her eyes. She closed them. It made little difference.

"Inutaisho," she whimpered. "Beloved!"

But he did not answer.

For an eternity, she wandered among the tortured souls, tortured herself with images of every decision she had chosen wrongly on in her life. Ryuunomei was there, in her sight, no matter which direction she turned in. She wept for him and apologized a thousand times, but he never seemed to hear her. Occasionally she saw her father, who looked unbearably disappointed to her eyes that she could not save him, that she had not come back in time. To him as well she apologized over and over, to no avail.

Endlessly her regrets played before her. She could do nothing to rectify any of them, only watch and weep for the chances missed and the choices badly made.

Over and over again she cried out Inutaisho's name. It soon became like a prayer, meaningless and unanswered but somehow comforting nevertheless.

After a while, she began seeing the face of her son, full of accusation for his abandonment.

Izayoi gave herself up to insanity. It was a small comfort.

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Tenseiga moaned at his side. He drew it, too afraid to hope that it could do anything for her in case it couldn't, in which case he would feel this crushing pain twice over and would die hopeless and a failure. The escorts of hell materialized before his eyes, giggling and pawing at her corpse like it was an especially desirable prize.

He growled, then bared his teeth. "Tenseiga," he whispered, "I beg you."

He swung-- once, twice. The creatures cried out and dissipated into the air.

Colour abruptly returned to Izayoi's cheeks. She drew in a harsh, painful breath, and opened her eyes.

The relief which swallowed Inutaisho at the sight was greater than anything he had ever felt. She was alive. He had not come too late. She was alive and in a moment she was going to turn her head and look at him--

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She had been there forever. Torment had been her existence for longer than she could remember even when she exerted herself. This suffering, this endless sea of red, was all she had ever known.

And it was dissolving. Izayoi knew a moment of absolute terror.

It was awful, agonizing, but it was all she knew. What would she do without it? What would happen when the pain disappeared? She didn't know, and she was more afraid of that void of knowledge than she was of the fire. For a moment, she held onto the scorched earth with her fingernails, but the force dragging her away was too strong to resist.

Terrified but powerless, she flew helplessly into the red sky.

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She stirred before him, reaching out to draw the squalling infant between her legs into her arms. Her eyes were strangely vacant, but his relief was too powerful for him to be concerned about it just yet.

Inutaisho could smell and hear Takemaru coming closer. He had to get Izayoi out of here before then.

She was now struggling to her feet. He drew the red robe Toutousai had given him out of his own robes and draped it over him. If what the swordsmith had said was true, it should protect Izayoi and his son from the conflagration surrounding them. She looked up at him as the fabric settled over him, and there was a hint of recognition and cognizance in her eyes.

The floorboards behind them groaned. Takemaru had reached them.

"If I can take you with me," he raged, "I will have no regrets, even if I am to begin my journey to the afterlife!"

There was a determination radiating from his stiff form that Inutaisho well recognized. It was a warrior's stance, one which said he was willing to face death if it meant victory. He respected it. He had seen it too many times not to. Above and beyond that, he was too weak to run. Standing and facing destiny here was something he could not escape.

"Live," he growled to Izayoi.

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She knew this man. He had featured in many of the regrets she had lived through repeatedly in hell. The expression on his face made her chest hurt, though it was a detached pain as she was only marginally aware of her body. "Beloved," her mouth whispered, though she only barely remembered what the word meant.

"Inuyasha," said Inutaisho.

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

He looked back at her, eyes deep with emotions she couldn't remember the names for.

"What?" said Takemaru, at the far edge of her awareness.

Inutaisho smiled. It was so incongruous with the situation that she could not assimilate it at all. Then he spoke. "That is my son's name. His name is Inuyasha!"

"Inu... yasha," Izayoi echoed. The word was important, very important, she had to remember it because it was very, very important. Inuyasha. Inuyasha. With great difficulty, she attached the word to the shrieking thing in her arms. Her son. Her child. Name. His name was Inuyasha. The word belonged to him, she couldn't forget it until he was old enough to remember it, very important, very very important.

"Go now," growled Inutaisho, putting himself between her and the man with the bright sharp sword whose face she knew but whose name she couldn't remember.

She knew the meaning of those words. They made her feel sick. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to stay here beside him where things made some sense, but she knew that the fire was bad and dangerous so leaving was a more sensible choice. It hurt. It hurt so much. "...All right," she whispered, then turned and ran away even though everything within the self she hadn't quite remembered yet told her she didn't want to.

The hallways were mazed with fire, but whatever it was the one she loved had draped over her just as she awakened, it kept the flames away until she burst out of the crumbling halls into the sharp late autumn air. Her legs were tireless. She ran up the mountain to the south. South was Sakenmaru's kingdom, and friendship, and safety. She had to go south. Or was it west, towards Inutaisho's castle? There was danger there, treachery, but if she carried his son?

Izayoi didn't know. She paused at the top of the cliff and looked back down towards the castle she had spent her last year in, just in time to see the flames roar skywards and the timbers collapse into a pile of coiling flame and ash.

She wanted to cry his name, wanted to pour saltwater from her eyes as she vaguely recalled she should in a situation like this, but she couldn't remember how. Instead she stared down at the wreckage of her life and tried to feel.

Sadness was the name of the emotion she knew she should be feeling, but despite all the memories flooding back into her she still couldn't define it. Inuyasha bawled in her arms as she fell to her knees in the dirt and discarded pine needles. Sadness. The tightness in her chest and throat, the burning in her eyes, the sick roiling of her stomach... these belonged to it. Tears went went hand in hand with sadness, she remembered that much. People cried when they were sad. She was sad. She should cry.

The tears would not come no matter how hard she willed them.

Izayoi stared sightlessly into the fire and waited for the grief to find her.

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He was born in blood, and he died in it, the flames boiling it even as it spilled from him. He could see the black triumph glittering in Takemaru's eyes even as he fell with Sou'unga through his chest, and felt like laughing at his childish pride. Inutaisho's death belonged to one far older and greater than him.

Even this fire was too much to bear. Gathering the last shadow of his strength, he picked himself up off the disintegrating floorboards and stumbled out into the cold night.

The forest welcomed him within its bare, harsh branches. He took a deep breath and transformed. He would die a demon lord, as he had lived, as he had ordered. Myouga would know what to do when he found him.

Be safe, Izayoi, he thought softly. Live long and happily with our son. I will wait for you when the fire is done with me.

Then he lay himself down on the cold stone and watched the moon come back to life.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!