InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ An Arrow Not Burning ❯ Confrontation ( Chapter 2 )

Inuyasha slammed down on a branch, claws driving deep into the wood. His ears were flattened, his mouth open in a silent snarl that displayed fangs. He panted, blind and deaf to his surroundings. He could hear only the cruel words, echoing and re-echoing, driving claws deeper and deeper into what was left of his heart. He could only see her face twisted by hate, her eyes blazing with loathing, burning what was left of hope to ashes.

He could not scream for the pain. No youkai had ever caused this much pain, no matter how poisoned or sharp their claws. No human had caused this much pain, for no one since his mother had been allowed this close to his heart. Only the pain of his mother's death came close to this, and that, at least, he knew she had died loving him.

How could she!

He had given her his heart. He had given her his trust. He had offered, to please her and make her happy, to give up half of what he was. After so long, after so much aloneness, after so much rejection, he thought he had found someone to trust, someone to protect, someone to love. And it was only a pretense, a sham! A lie!

The agony twisted deeper.

There was no one.

There would never be any one. For him.

She had taken his hope. Encouraged it.

Then broken it.

The agony was abruptly consumed in an even more searing, mental scream of pure rage.

How dare she!

A snarl guttered out of his throat as his eyes snapped open. Rage swallowed his pain and transformed it. Hanyo, was he? Not good enough for her, was he? He'd show that puling, sneering mortal! The Shikon no Tama. He'd take it, and any human who got in the way would be ripped apart, and when he transformed into a true youkai, then just let her try to call him names! He'd show her, he'd show them all, and all the cursed, burning arrows in the world would not be enough to stop him!

Burning arrows.

He deepened his crouch, ready to spring, his thoughts leaping forward to the village, his rage hungrily anticipating the screams and fear that would follow his appearance.

The arrow didn't burn.

It was a tiny thought, amidst the firestorm of rage. It came from the part of him that had learned never to be unaware of his surroundings, even asleep. The part of him that kept him alive in a world that hated or feared him.

The rage tried to swamp the thought. He didn't care! She had betrayed him, and he would show her what he thought of her betrayal, the cursed wench!

The arrow missed.

So!

Kikyo didn't miss.

Inuyasha shook his head, gasping for breath as he mentally teetered between mindless rage and the habits and instincts for survival that were beginning to flare warnings. Gritting his teeth, digging his claws more deeply into the hapless branch, Inuyasha forced his thoughts to the last moment with Kikyo. She had yelled at him to die, her hate plain in her face and her voice. Yet the arrow had been a clean miss, and he had felt none of the spirit power which should have been in that shaft.

His eyes narrowed, remembering. She had never once missed her shot at him before, even when he was frantically trying to dodge. Not wanting to harm him, she had admitted later, when they had begun talking, she had chosen not to will any of her purifying power into the arrows. Except that one time--

"I'm sorry about that one, Inuyasha," she had said one day. "Using the other attacking youkai as a shield -- I didn't realize it was you until it was too late -- the best I could do was pull the shot. I hope it didn't hurt too badly."

The arrow, glimmering with power, had had barely scratched his shoulder. Yet the pain had driven him momentarily to his knees. His arm had hung useless at his side for hours, paralyzed by the pain shooting down his limb. The cut had continued to burn for days, and weeks had passed before it finally vanished completely.

Yet this arrow hadn't even come close to killing him, despite her declared intent.

Inuyasha shook his head again, as if the action could somehow straighten out his increasingly confused thoughts. It didn't make sense! Kikyo had reviled him, threatened to kill him, yet hadn't even willed power into the arrow, let alone managed to strike him. Had she gone mad? Was she possessed?

He had to find her, he decided, slowly pulling his claws free from the splintered wood as he locked down the burning rage. He had to know what was really going on. But he would have to be careful. He didn't want to end up as the target for one of those arrows. It wasn't going to be him who died today.

Growling a little, he stood up, balancing easily on the branch. Eyes narrowing, he sniffed deeply, grimacing a little as the lingering stench of two-day old battle reached him even against the wind. He sniffed again, searching for that one particular scent that marked her presence.

He didn't find it, and felt puzzled. He wasn't that far from the sacred tree, and at the best speed a human could move, she should not have been able to get out of his range. Yet all he could pick up were lingering traces from their confrontation, and even with that, there was something odd about the scent.

With a growl of impatience, Inuyasha dropped his search, leaping into the air, aiming towards the village. The wind was too much against him to pick up much from the village until he got closer. But that had to be Kikyo's destination -- she wouldn't dare leave the jewel unprotected long, even if she hadn't betrayed him.

As he soared above the trees, he saw the smoke‰ÛÓbillowing in dark clouds, before being torn to shreds by the wind. It was clearly coming from the village. He snarled to himself, for he hated smoke. Its scent was sharp and penetrating, and it lingered, making it difficult to locate and track more delicate scents. It also tended to irritate his nose if he got too close, making him sneeze, and sometimes ruining his sense of smell until it cleared away.

During the next leap, he saw that the source of the smoke were several huts engulfed in flames. Part of him wondered what had happened to cause such fires on such a windy but otherwise fine morning. The other part of him shrugged -- why should he care what happened to a bunch of poor humans and their ramshackle buildings? Sure, he'd helped protect them from the demon attack, but his real intent had been to protect Kikyo, who, of course, had had to protect the village. If fact, the fires might help him -- once Kikyo saw the flames, she would surely become involved in the efforts to put out the fires, which would give him the perfect opportunity to get at her without an arrow to hand.

He landed on a solitary tree just within the boundary of the village and started his olfactory search again, eyes narrowed, growling a little as his nose promptly began to sting, just as he'd known it would. Where was she? She couldn't have gotten to the village before him: she ought to now be upwind of him, he should be able to find it! Why couldn't he scent her, what the hell was going on!

"Get him!" "There he is!"

Inuyasha sprang from his perch even before he saw the spears. Twisting in mid-air, he landed on the roof of an undamaged hut. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he yelled down, recognizing the faces of several men who had been involved in the demon fight. "Where's Kikyo?"

"Get him before he uses those claws again!" shouted a voice Inuyasha recognized as belonging to the headman. "Use the nets!" The hanyo leapt again, aiming towards the tall arch that marked the stairway to the hilltop shrine. Two spears whipped into the air in front of him, carrying a loose net between them. His momentum carried him into it, but he only sneered and crossed his arms, flattening his ears to protect them. As the net tightened and he reached the apex of his leap, he threw open his arms, laughing with contempt as his claws easily slashed the net to pieces. Fools of humans, to think a mere net could stop him!

He landed on the arch. On the top of the hill above the long, stone staircase stood the shrine, untouched by the tumult. Inuyasha felt the tug of temptation: the jewel should be there, if it wasn't with Kikyo. He could take it now, sprint back to a safe position within his forest, then use it to turn demon.

But it was Kikyo he wanted at that moment. He wanted to find the person who had hurt him so badly, then left him unharmed. He wanted answers. He wanted her. Dancing out the way of an arrow, he turned in place, searching for her familiar scent. He had to find her. He would find her!

The scent that he was seeking claimed his attention, and he was off the arch, his thoughts falling behind, then shattering with shock.

Blood!

Kikyo's blood! She was injured! Badly injured!

He forgot his rage. He forgot his pain. All that mattered was that the woman he loved was in terrible trouble. He had to find her. He had to protect her, help her.

He slammed to the ground in front of her, just as she emerged from the copse of trees that separated the village from the uphill meadow where they had often met. "Kikyo!" he cried, voice cracking in horror and fear as his eyes confirmed what his nose had told him. The right shoulder of her white kimono was soaked with blood. "Kikyo!" he cried again, taking her as gently as possible into his arms, avoiding the horrible slashes that ran from her right shoulder down to her waist. "Oh, kami, what happened? Who did this to you?"

A slender hand pushed against his shoulder. Easing his grip, Inuyasha looked down at Kikyo's snow-white face. For a long moment, the dark eyes stared up at him in something resembling shock. Then her face began to twist, eyes blazing. "You," she whispered, her other hand rising to touch his chest, then sliding up to his shoulder. "You--curse you--!"

Inuyasha screamed as the full force of the miko's purifying power tore into him. It was agony beyond anything he had ever experienced. It was worse than any demon poison. Worse than any monk's banishing spells. Worse than any physical fire. The power burned into his half-demon blood and nerves, ripping, destroying--

Somehow he managed to jerk away, leaping backwards, crashing to the ground on his back. It took two tries to stagger to his feet, his arms limp as his side, his fire-rat robe hanging in tatters around his waist, his shoulders and upper chest burned black and starting to ooze blood. His ears rang, his nose smelled nothing, and his eyes blurred. Blinking, he managed to make out Kikyo on her hands and knees, not quite two lengths from him. "Kikyo. Why?" he managed to croak, his throat feeling as raw as the rest of him. "Why!"

She raised her head, glaring at him with hatred. "You dare--ask why?" she gasped, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. "You--ambushed me, stole the jewel, never--intended to become human, laughed at me--I trusted you! You--betrayed! Me!"

"It wasn't me!" Inuyasha felt his body starting to fall, and braced his trembling legs. "Kikyo, I wasn't there! I was at Goshinbuko, waiting for you to bring the jewel like we agreed, then you came, you insulted me, sneered at me, threatened to kill me and shot at me, and you missed, and it wasn't your arrow, and it wasn't you!"

"What are you talking about?"

Inuyasha lurched forward a step, then another. "Listen to me, Kikyo," he said, as the pieces fell into place. "There's a shape-shifter around. There has to be. I didn't attack you. And if that had been you, you wouldn't have missed. Someone's trying to make us hate each other."

"I don't believe you!" Her eyes were wild with rage and hate. "Betrayer!"

Inuyasha stared at her, dismayed. Despair sank into him, weakening his legs. He went to his knees as a new pain rolled over him. His love's trust in him was broken. She was dying. He would be left, alone and lonely, with the intolerable knowledge that he had failed her.

He could think of only one thing to do.

Somehow, he staggered to his feet once again. Each step sent a fresh whirl of dizziness into his head, but he refused to give in. Sinking to his knees in front of Kikyo, he somewhere found the strength to move his upper limbs. Easing her to a seated position, he gently placed her arms around his shoulders. Pulling her back to her knees, he enfolded her into his arms. "Kikyo," he whispered, "I swear to you, on my mother's blood: I'm not lying. I didn't do this to you." He swallowed. "But, if you can't--believe me--" His throat choked on the words. He didn't want to die. But the alternative -- to live, while his love died believing that he had betrayed her -- was infinitely worse. His throat unlocked for the words he most wanted to say.

"I love you."