OCCLUDED FRONT

The whole thing had been a mistake, really. Some forgotten part of her that had wished for a little more all those years ago, a tiny sliver of hope she'd manifested into reality a few years too late.

A mistake ruined by a stupid thing he'd said and a stupid thing she'd done. Words she wasn't even sure he'd meant and a half-hearted slap born from her own shock. She'd had to follow through, no taking that back, even if she half regretted it now. Even if there was that voice in the back of her head telling her that she could still go out and make it right, her pride said otherwise. Not when he'd looked ready to put his claws through her chest himself.

The sex could be violent, deliciously so, but they'd never come to blows outside of it before. Not even as enemies, half enemies, unsure of where they stood. A step too far, a dangerous game to play. But if she had the chance to turn back time, to those slow moments just before she'd raised her hand, she might never have done it. Because what that little voice in the back of her mind had wanted to say…

Yes. Yes, I am yours. Have been since the moment I saw you again after so many years. Since the day I rose from the dead and opened my eyes and yours were the ones looking back at me. Since the day I died and you were the one who came for me. Probably ever since the day I asked you to save me…

And she hated that more than the thought of being owned again.

More than the tightness that pinched the skin between her shoulder blades or the piece of glass that she still wore around her neck. It felt like failure, foolish and hopeless, like she'd given up the last part of herself that was truly hers―that thing she'd burned for before she'd ever set eyes on his damned handsome face―and placed it squarely in his hands for him to do with what he pleased.

It hurt. Ached like a gaping wound. A missing limb. She worried that the only balm that would soothe her were the very arms she'd scorned.

"You know what you need?" Momiji asked with a tusked grin, on the eighth day of her sulk.

Kagura didn't dignify it with a response, just kept on with her pout and followed the ogre's lead―ignored Byakuya's questioning eddies, her brother might sense her upset but had no business knowing what had led to it―across the sea, until she could dig her toes into soft sand and let the sun dry her salt misted skin.

…

Angry wasn't the right word for the simmering, almost boiling sensation that roiled in his belly, sizzling beneath his skin and fizzling out somewhere near his fingertips.

Not when he had no right to be. Not really. Not when he'd always known how the likes of her little troupe comported themselves―he'd seen that for himself―and not when he'd seen the look of disgust on her face when the ogre had leaned in too close. And when she'd snapped the horn from his head.

Yet, still, the image of his hand on her thigh had calcified in his mind, stuck there like a rotten thorn, scar tissue, and churning hot fury in his chest.

He'd known what would happen if he tried to lay claim on her. He'd known, had held himself back from severing the bastard's head himself. Still, he'd been angry, and maybe she'd enjoyed it some―she'd been so willing writhing against him―but he should have stopped it there, spent his fury in her and been done with it.

But months of pent up desire, uncertainty, and that little spark of warmth that had sprouted in his chest at the mere thought of her had him saying things that he meant, but should have kept his prideful tongue from spewing.

And gods, he'd wanted it to be true. Desperately. And he'd let that get the best of him. Comedrunk―he was only glad he hadn't said anything more.

Because it was Kagura.

Because it could only ever be Kagura.

And now he was bereft, drifting in a way he hadn't in years, unsure of his next step. He loathed the uncertainty, the question of whether to let things be, release them both from whatever the relationship had been. Or… Go to her, make things right. A trial all on its own, but as the days slid by, the humid heat of summer fading into the whispered chill of fall, a winter without her seemed less and less appealing.

He'd already lost her once, and didn't like to think of doing so again. Even if it was at the cost of his own pride. There was a question on his tongue, a simple thing, but one that might set her off all over again, simply for the presumption. Kagura might spurn him for it, ridicule and mock him, but it would not stand to leave things as they were.

So he turned his nose to the wind.

For all the months they'd been together, he felt as if he himself had developed an affinity for it―for the way the scents mingled on a breeze, and how even though she had taken steps to hide her essence from his nose he could still feel its presence. He followed its threads south west, nearly to the sea, where the trees still held their summer colors. He lost the trail briefly there, and it was days before he found it again, the thread that ran back east.

He knew that she would not come to him right away, that anger still fresh for them both, so he was not surprised when he found nothing more than a silent forest, the bubbling, lazy river before him visited by a lone crane. He could wait for the expected curses.

And he did just that. A test of his patience. And his perseverance. A test of that simmering heat deep in his chest. He'd never been one for still meditation, yet this might be the closest he would ever come to such a thing. He felt like a fool, the longer he waited, but still her presence surrounded him on the breeze, and he had already decided that he would wait until she deigned to see him. If not―

Well, that would be answer enough.

It felt like an eternity, sensing her presence but unable to see her. She'd improved her illusions, before, he'd had an idea of where she stood if he truly looked, but now it was as if he was blind. Unsure, all he could do was wait, silent as the forest waited and watched him.

But then, it felt as if the forest changed, movement brought back, maybe her patience wearing thin.

"Kagura?"

It was like a hiss, a gasp of surprise and a long pause, and then something like laughter as she stepped out of the trees.

She held her fan before her mouth, only her eyes visible as she watched him with an arched brow. It caught him off guard. He'd expected fury, cursing, demands that he leave and where exactly he could go instead, but she was far too calm.

"Well, well, well," her voice sounded off, too coy even hidden behind a fan. He hadn't heard such indifference from her in years. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

This was not the reception he had anticipated. Something was wrong.

"I have been waiting three days. You were hiding." He did not let suspicion color his tone, despite the way his hackles rose.

A shoulder shrugged but the fan did not drop. "I wanted to see if you were really lookin' for me."

"And if I was?" Sesshoumaru inhaled, tasting the scent on his tongue. Everything was right, the scent was the same, thick and tangible as if he had buried his nose into the hollow of her throat―the posture, the quirk in her brow, the way she held her fan, and yet the distance at which she held him was tangible. The lack of anger disturbed him. She should be raging, cursing him, or even if she had continued the game, the unending silence, any of it would be preferable to this odd formality she bestowed on him.

She tilted her head and let out a breathy sigh. "...I will say that you are a sight for sore eyes, Sesshoumaru-sama."

His hand went for his sword.

"Who are you?"

Her eyes narrowed, but there was no doubt a smirk behind her fan. The expression was so familiar it was almost painful, all wrong on this doppelganger's face.

"What ever do you mean? You were looking for me, weren't you?" She asked and finally dropped the fan. And yes, there was the familiar smirk, accompanied by a soft chuckle. But not right, subterfuge was not Kagura's strong suit. "Aren't you pleased with what you've found?"

"Reveal yourself or I will cut you down where you stand."

She tsked at him and then laughed in earnest, the sound sharp like a knife through his chest. What had they done to create such a true copy―?

"Now, now, Sessoumaru-sama, I know that it's been many years, but if you recall you were never able to lay a single hand on me." She advanced, slowly, tentative little steps that were more like the precursor to a dance than an attack. "Not for lack of trying, mind you, I'll concede that you are the single-minded type."

He racked his mind, an enemy who could create an exact replica, scent and all. In shock, only one name came to mind―but no, he had been the only to land the killing blow on Naraku, and that monster was not fool enough make such a boast―She was within swinging distance of his blade now, though he had not pulled it from its sheath. A trickster then, one who could change their form to anyone or anything. Or, not a different form, but more likely…

"I must say I am a bit disappointed, I thought I'd made a stronger impression, but I suppose to a dog the only thing that matters is your nose."

An illusion. Just like the ones she pulled from the wind.

"Byakuya."

He swung his sword, the blade sweeping through the illusion's neck with a soft slide of metal against sinew and bone. Blood leeched out of his fingertips at the sensation. Wrong. All wrong as Kagura's head slid from her body and hit the grass with a thump. Her body crumpled, unnaturally still, until the venom of his blade began to eat away at the flesh. His heart was ice, frozen at the site of it, Kagura's blank, dead eyes as her skin dissolved, rotted away leaving bones that melted into the dirt, a slurry of viscera and mud pooling in the grass―

"That was unnecessary." Byakuya spoke from his left, but Sesshoumaru could not tear his eyes away, staring until there was nothing left but a steaming puddle in the dirt. And then; nothing. No evidence left of the forgery to be found as it simply disappeared. "Turns your stomach doesn't it? Such an unpleasant sight."

"You should be dead."

Byakuya shrugged. "I got better."

At that, Sesshoumaru did turn, his sword gripped tight, to a violet gaze he had thought long gone. Byakuya stood too close, confident, but there was an edge to his stare, his ruby mouth a thin set line.

"Put away your weapon, Sesshoumaru. And tell me why you sought her out."

"I owe you no explanations."

"Don't you?" Byakuya snorted, and there it was again, that familiar sound― "If your intention is to see my sister harmed, well…"

"Your sister?" Ridiculous. Sesshoumaru struck out again and his sword met nothing. "I do not recall Naraku's children being so familial."

"Ah, you wouldn't. It's a new development. Or an old one, whichever way you prefer to look at it." Byakuya's voice echoed through the forest, one with the thundering sound of leaves trembling in the wind. Sesshoumaru didn't care to puzzle out his riddles, only needed blood on his blade. His claws would suffice, too. "She prefers the new way, if you're curious."

"Enough!" He struck out again―at something, anything―at nothing. "Your life ended four years ago with Naraku. It was my blade that felled him, rotted away by the poison, and whatever had not burned by then was swallowed by the meidou…"

Whatever had remained of Naraku had fallen into the abyss, Inuyasha had made sure of that. There had been nothing left, the bits of flesh had burned the forests to cinders and then there had been no trace, no scent, no evidence of the monstrous beast that had blotted out the sky save for the ashes. And Byakuya, as weak as he had been, should not have survived such a trial, nor the fate of anyone who was pulled into hell, even youkai would succumb to its desolation, or the beasts that lurked there. Nothing could have lasted long enough to escape, not unless―

A thought then, a memory of a long past conversation, an explanation that hadn't quite made sense at the time, but one he'd nonetheless accepted, if only because it would soothe her ire and mend whatever relationship they had had. Too many loose ends and holes in her story, why exactly his mother had gotten involved, how a god could have gotten themselves trapped in hell, or why she had such a being's continued patronage, when all it had been was services rendered, a debt paid by a youkai who should be regarded as nothing more than scum. The forest spirits had bowed to her, shown her deference, and for what? All because she had faced the mistress of hell and survived to tell the tale, a feat no ordinary being could have accomplished, blessed or no.

Sesshoumaru sheathed his sword, teeth clenched. Why hadn't she―

"I'll say I've never seen a dog like you so lost in thought."

Sesshoumaru watched him, the serenity of Byakuya's expression. He had been much like Kagura, before. Snarky and self-assured. All too aware of his own impending demise.

The snark and confidence still remained, yet it seemed tempered. As if the four years since had taught him some modicum of wisdom, though that hardly seemed enough time to weather him in such a way. The last piece of Kagura's story clicked into place.

"I'm not fool enough to attempt to kill a God unprepared."

Byakuya's grin widened. "Ah, then I was wrong about you."

He could still kill him later, Sesshoumaru assured himself, once he knew what exactly he was fighting.

"Where is she?"

"I still don't see a reason why I should tell you. Not even ten minutes ago you were severing her head from her neck." Byakuya narrowed his eyes. "You've been searching for her for some time now, if your stalking of me is anything to go by. If you haven't found her by now, what makes you think she wants to be found?"

"I harbor no ill intention towards her."

"Oh ho." Byakuya hummed and cocked his head, as if listening for something. He'd seen Kagura do the same, many times. "I see."

Sesshoumaru glanced up and found Byakuya watching him. His violet eyes so severe, his stare so encompassing, Sesshoumaru felt stripped bare in a way he hadn't since he'd been a child. And then, Byakuya grinned. Sesshoumaru's hackles rose at the sight, the familial resemblance far too strong to ignore any longer.

"So what then, pray tell, are your intentions towards my sister?"

…

A/N: Welcome back, to those of you that are still here. I will be honest with y'all that my investment in this series has pretty much died for obvious reasons. However I promised myself that I would finish at least this work and I will, even if my lack of interest might reflect in the writing/plot development. Plot has definitely sped up, word counts have gone done, and chapter estimate has gotten considerably shorter as I condense some things. Next chapter will most likely be the second to last, and hopefully there will not be such a delay between postings! Thank you all for sticking around! 3