InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Battlelines Drawn ❯ Chapter 1

The soft breeze that stirred the treetops held a touch of a chill, though the young man that crouched upon a massive limb high above the ground showed little discomfort. From it, he looked into the night, bathed in the light of a full moon, straining his eyes, ears and nose to their utmost to detect anything which might be out of place. Sesshomaru, Rin and Jaken camped to the west, just in range of his ability to hear Rin's scream should she utter one. Kouga and the remnants of his pack were to the north, just within hearing range, as well. Kikyo was to the east, though her soul catchers weren't with her, most likely they were out gathering the souls she needed to survive. For the present at least, all was normal. The tentative truce still holding as they drew nearer to Naraku's stronghold. No words had ever been uttered to that effect, yet nothing had been done to resist it. They traveled separately, yet oddly together, always in range of the senses of the others. An attack upon one group, taken as an attack upon all, they would fight as a unit and then go their separate ways again. The hanyou let the situation tumble through his mind a bit. He hadn't liked it at first, but Kagome's patient logic had made him see things differently. There was safety in numbers, and each of these groups that lay around them had more reason to work with them than against them. He had let it be; whatever issues that needed to be dealt with could and would wait until the final battle was over.

"And this will be the final battle," he murmured to himself. There was no force behind those words, as he would have had if they had been awake, only a resignation. The confident face he showed the world shadowed with weariness and a touch of fear, not for himself, but his pack mates. As they drew closer to Naraku's stronghold the battles they fought came more often, and intensified in their attempt to stop their progress toward their goal, leaving all involved weary to the bone, emotionally fried, to use Kagome's term, and piling injury on top of injury. And if he was feeling the effects, he hated to think what effect these battles were having on his pack. His mood was pensive, and his thoughts traveled to less worn paths than planning for the battle and trying to out think the bastard. The concern and worry and compassion he felt for those he traveled with coming to forefront of his thoughts. It wasn't like him to admit these things, even to himself, but he too was tired and his heart was just too achy right now to prevent this new line of thought. He spared a glance for the camp below. His pack mates slept a wary kind of sleep, weapons at hand and ready to go into action. It was not the rejuvenating rest needed, it was just enough to keep them headed for tomorrow and whatever new horror Naraku had to throw at them. His pack was battered, inside and out. Each battle got more vicious and each battle left them with more injuries to tend. Yet, with each battle they became more resolved, their strength of will increasing and the need to overcome all obstacles crystallized within them. His pack was a group of survivors, and even if they lost the battle ahead, he would die with the knowledge that he had been proud to fight at their sides, to have shared their lives, and to have been thought of as their friend.

He settled back against the trunk of the tree and stretched out upon the limb, bringing Tessaiga around to settle it on his lap. He rubbed a weary hand across his eyes, and looked down at the camp. The scowl on his face slowly left him as he listened to their even breathing, and his expression softened to an almost smile as looked down upon them, trying to assess the damages they'd taken and coming up with something else entirely.

His eyes flickered across them.

Sango and Miroku lay opposite one another, with enough distance between to prevent his wandering hands from touching her as they slept. But, that had not stopped him from touching her, since her own body betrayed her every night. As she slumbered she never seemed to fail to stretch her own arm out across that divide, and most nights now, they slept, with fingertips just touching. They had no idea it was happening, and he had chosen not to tell them. The few nights the ritual had not occurred they had been restless and their bodies had not rested as they needed them too. This simple touch calmed them, allowed them peaceful, if wary sleep and he was more interested in them staying alive just one more day to bring it up. Maybe if they all lived, he'd tell them the secret he held. He looked them over, sniffing the air as he did so. And as he did so his feelings for the two came unbidden, and even as he tried to push them back to their little corner, his thoughts circled his head demanding release. Growling a low rumbling growl, finally, he just gave up. Apparently, his recalcitrant thoughts were going to have their way tonight, so why not just let, them. He could put them away tomorrow, into that deep hiding place within himself that only one other had ever touched.

Sango wore blood stained bandages on both arms, and one of those large bandages that Kagome brought with her from her world decorated her forehead. But, she seemed to have little discomfort. A couple of those cuts on her arms had been deep, but as Inuyasha sniffed the air, he could smell them healing. She stirred a little, as if the intensity of his gaze was something she were aware of, the hand that lay on her boomerang flexing and then relaxing, Her hair was down, and had settled onto her shoulders, just shadowing her face. The thoughts came unbidden. She was a strong fighter. With her at his back, he never feared that he would be betrayed. She would go down fighting with the same ferocity that she fought her losing battle with her own heart, her feelings for the monk brought her strength even as she fought to keep them at bay. It was a new feeling this trust in someone else to watch his back. This knowledge that if he fell, she could and would pick up where he left off and never hate him for falling. She would protect what he protected with the same vigilance and heart as he did. Even if he fell, he believed with all his heart, with Sango's protection, Kagome would live on. Inuyasha's gaze flittered to the man who lay next to her, yet so far from her.

Miroku. He was a true study in contrasts so calm and logical, yet unable to keep his hands from touching. Or was he? Was this lecherous, womanizing façade he showed the world just that, a façade. It seemed, to Inuyasha, as he looked down at the young monk, the bandages on his chest, showing beneath his robes, that most likely it was all just a pose. His lecherous ways kept females away, for the most part, instead of attracting them. He didn't want a family to have to deal with the pain of his loss when that hole in his hand finally ate him alive. He had barely even tried to touch Sango in the past month. Maybe he was starting to have a hope that they could actually win this, and he didn't want to drive her any further away than he already had. Or perhaps, that it was simply that when the time came for him to pass on, he didn't want her angry with him. The monk knew that Sango tended to brood. And if he did pass from this world she was angry with him, she would never forgive herself. The monk's spiritual powers had grown in their time together, and he fought to protect the pack, in his way, as fiercely as Inuyasha and Sango did in theirs