InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodlust ❯ Unrequiem ( Chapter 46 )

The glow of blue light diminished into a glittering flux of dust-matter that dissolved on contact with floor or flesh, and in its wake there was the sound of a rattling breath from Kinawai's bloody body. The torn flesh of his throat was pulling together even as they watched, and when the skin had closed over, Kinawai stood slowly, as if waking from a dream. He turned towards Kagome and bowed to her with formal words.

“I know not how you returned it to me, but I thank you for my life. I do not deserve it, for so threatening the mate and heir of my ally - my friend.”

Sesshomaru walked behind Kagome and lifted his pup carefully, seeing for the fist time how tiny and perfect was his son. He stayed behind Kagome, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder as she gathered the pieces of her thoughts to answer the Lord she barely even knew.

“Lord Kinawai…it is I who must apologize. I knew the consequences of ending Kasuka's life, and did so anyway. I would ask your forgiveness, rather than hear your pleas for the same. Still I thank you. You are an honorable youkai and a great Lord.”

Kinawai blinked in surprise, hearing the last thing he had expected - indeed had not expected at all. He looked deep into her eyes, seeking some sense of sarcasm or insincerity that just was not there. He nodded slightly, accepting of her words, and spoke briefly to Sesshomaru.

“You have found a rare mate, Sesshomaru. I wish you a good life with her…and your son.”

There was a wistful glint in his eye, and his gaze lingered on Sesshomaru's son for a long moment.

“I will go make the announcement to the troops - without Kasuka's magic, the dragons will fall like sand from a cliff top.”

Sesshomaru nodded and Kinawai left in silence, with one final bow in Kagome's direction.

 

When he had turned the corner at the end of the hallway, Sesshomaru turned to look at his mate, and his eyes drank her like fine wine.

“Kagome…”

For the first time since the war began, Kagome felt completely relaxed, an empty space of tension inside her that came as a welcome presence. He took two quick steps toward her, and then she was in his arms, against his body with their son between them. He lifted her swiftly, so that their pup lay comfortably against her breasts, and the few steps down the hallway to their bedchamber took him only a moment. Kagome felt the cool silk and soft fur of their futon under skin, and he took his son out of her arms and lay him on the pile of silks that had been Kagome's bed the first time she had come to him. He turned to Kagome then, bloody and beautiful, wounded and weary.

“Kagome…”

He spoke her name again and his voice cracked, looking at her. He could see that the blood of her opened wound had dried on her kimono, a rusted stain that struck at his heart, and he sat beside her and touched the mark gently. The tie of her obi came undone at his touch, and he winced every time she did as he worked the fabric away from her wound. He was gratified to see that only the covering of new skin was badly torn, and that the healing of muscle and tissue had not been much undone.

 

Kagome could see worry and guilt warring in his eyes, as though it was selfish of him to be guilty when she was bleeding in front of him, and she smiled the soft smile she saved to reassure him. Carefully, she searched for the soul strands of her miko power, and twisted them around her wound, binding her torn skin and muscles. When she was through, she turned her attention to the torn tissue between her legs, and sealed the wounds of birthing. Sesshomaru touched her healed skin as her eyes clouded with tiredness.

He did not make a sound but sat on the floor beside the futon with his sword across his lap and sat back on his legs.

“My mate….I could not protect you, and then of my own will I nearly took your life. Take mine…”

He pressed tetsusaiga into her hands and against the flat of her palms, so that the unintentional slit of Eldest's dagger bled dark blood on to the braid-bound wooden sheath of tetsusaiga, staining the lacquered wood. Her eyes were wide with grief and compassion, and she took the sword and lay it on the end of the bed.

“Come up here.”

He obeyed her command, proud still but with no haughtiness in her presence, all masks of carelessness thrown away in the glance of her eyes on him. When he was sitting beside her, she threw her arms around his waist and muffled her voice against the silk soft steel of his chest.

“I am glad…you are alright, Sess-chan.”

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, heartbeat against heartbeat easing out to matched and comfortable pulse. Kagome relaxed, tired but unsleeping, drinking in the fire and blessing of his presence. His whispered question almost caught her off guard, but still he never finished it/
”How can -“

“Whose face did you strike at? That is what I care for, that is how I can forgive. I love you….that is enough for me.”

Her pulled her closer, as though he could bind them that close for the rest of time, and she smiled with the pull of his arms around her that she had so missed. There was a long minute of tiredness, broken only by the gentle caresses of his unbelieving and grateful hands on her back, feeling the motion of fragile bones under his fingertips, moving with her breathing. They were broken apart by a willful wail, and Kagome felt a pull on her thoughts, a `feeling' of hunger that did not belong to her.

She nudged Sesshomaru away from her gently, squeezing his hand to gentle the separation he did not want. She lifted her son and cradled him gently, untying her kimono and slipping out of it.

“Sess-chan, I think I shall bathe while I nurse-“

She stopped silent for a moment, and then she looked up at her mate in surprise/

“Sess-chan, we haven't named our son!”

Sesshomaru looked at her askance, tingling her skin with the pressure of his eyes on her naked body, and she blushed gently, rose spreading down her neck and across the top of her chest. He shook his head, smiling at her discomfiture, and he turned to the wardrobe, choosing a kimono to replace the torn and bloodied fabric she had dropped on the floor.

“I will announce a name for our son at his naming ceremony in three days time. Here, take this and go to your bath - I must go and make certain of the dragon clan's surrender, and arrange for the holding of those who put up their weapons. Also the execution of their leaders….no matter what vendetta may have been mixed up in this, it was still a council matter to begin with, and it must be dealt with as one. Rest here, and I will come to you by the setting of the sun. I…love you, my Kagome.”

She nodded, and pulled him close to her for one lingering kiss, falling in love with the taste of him all over again.

“Come back to me soon, Sess-chan. I do not want to be away from you any more.”

He touched her hair and swept out of the room, and Kagome looked closely at her son for the first time since his birth. There was a pale fuzz of silver hair on his head, soft and fine as silk, and his eyes shone gold with a thick inner ring of silver. His scent was thick and deep but gentle, and she slipped into the kimono that Sesshomaru had handed her and held her son against her skin.

He latched onto her nipple, and she winced less than the first time, adjusting to the sensation of small pup mouth and sharp pup fangs. She covered one of his tiny hands with her larger one, marveling that someone so small could grow into a complete youkai. She walked slowly to the bath, enjoying the familiarity of surroundings and the scent of her mate that seemed to permeate the very stones around her, built into the alls. The waters of the spring were hot and welcoming, and she washed days of blood and grime away from her skin gladly. She held her son up and out of the water, and he cooed at her, half-open pup eyes glittering in the steam and fog of the room.

“My son…your father had best choose a good name for you….”

He giggled and splashed steaming water at her face, and Kagome laughed for the first time in months.

 

Sango wept alone. In the moments after Kasuka's death there was a sigh in the wind, though she did not know the reason at the time. All around her, she could see that the battle was stopping, soldiers of Sesshomaru's army stepping backward as those they had been fighting sparkled a fluorescent blue-violet and dissolved into bone dust and a swelling tide of mist that hugged the battlefield like a thick morning fog. It obscured all vision for a few moments, before the wind swept it all away like sunlight after a bad dream.

When the mist had cleared, the swirling darkness of storm clouds cleared as well, leaving the mid-afternoon rays of an early spring sun to light upon both tragedy and hope. In the instant of first sunlight, Miroku blinked in Sango's arms, feeling a sudden wash of dizzy drowsiness claim his mind, and he turned to look at Sango through bleary eyes.

“Sango…I do not feel…well.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he fell forward unconscious into her arms. And so it was that alone on a field where thousands stood, Sango stood holding her husband, unknowing of how to aid or cure him, unknowing what was even going on. His breathing was shallow, broken by random gasps, as though he saved his strength in between breaths to try and force more air into his lungs.

Behind Sango came a soft and comforting voice, strange though it was to say so of a stranger.

“He is not gone yet, little huntress. I can give him health, but you must heal him of his fear.”

Sango turned to see the most mysterious looking youkai she had ever encountered, in battle or friendship.

“Ex…cuse me?”

Eldest smiled.

“You are the Lady Sango, mate of the Houshi Miroku, yes? You are a friend of my sister-daughter, and so I will aid you. She does not deserve more sadness.”

Sango watched as one hand touched Miroku's arm and came away drawing a dark string of energy that connected her hand and his for a long while. Like the snapping of a whiplash length from the end of her fingers, Eldest gestured and the string collapsed, dissolving into the air like windblown dust. Miroku shuddered and coughed, suddenly conscious, breathing fresh air with into untainted lungs. Grateful beyond words, Sango passed her tears into relief, and Eldest smiled and stood.

“There now, that will be better. Time enough for grieving in the years ahead. Where is Kagome?”

Sango laughed, exuberant with the aftermath of her fear, and gestured at the castle.

“So many look for Kagome! She is with Sesshomaru; they went first, and afterwards Kouga, Lord of the Wolf Tribes - also an Inu Youkai by the name of Histaru. Kasuka followed, and then Kinawai, her mate.”

Eldest's eyes dilated open, sparkling in the sunlight, and she whispered to herself as she turned her back to them.

“My only daughter, child of my lost heart…”

Sensing worry, she turned back to Sango, relieved of one burden and straining under another.

“You need not worry for your sister, Taijiya Sango. My…Kasuka is dead - there is no need for your concern any longer.”

Sango shook her head, all at once unsmiling.

“She was gravely wounded - part of the castle walls came down on top of her, and we were too late to save her.”

Eldest smiled, and turned to walk away.

“Only that? She is fine, then. Her own miko is more than enough to heal such wounds. But there was such a strange wholeness in Kasuka's death…”

Sango stared after her, reliving the strangest and most inexplicably wonderful conversation she had ever had.

“Kirara!”

The fire-cat mewed softly and accepted the careful weight of Miroku across her back, conscious and lacking his fever, but no words escaped his dry lips, and his limbs were weak. Sango pressed his hand into hers and squeezed gently. He smiled, and Kirara lifted into the air, headed towards the balcony window that opened into his castle chambers.

 

Sesshomaru stood on the battlements only soon enough to see the fading remnants of flesh founder in the absence of Kasuka's magic, gone with the taste of ocean water on the air. He perused the field before his gates, and there were only the bodies of the dead and dying among his own soldiers - the dead dragon youkai had disappeared along with their living comrades. On a far corner of the field came a loud shout, Akira's voice raised high in the clamoring silence.

“Sesshomaru!”

From the battlements beside the easternmost towers of his castle, Sesshomaru leapt. He did not touch the ground but once on his journey from there to the source of Akira's shout. He landed, stricken, staring at the group of dragon youkai sitting on the ground behind Akira, heads bowed the moment he stepped before them.

“Why have these alone among our enemies survived the dispersing of magic after Kasuka's death?”

Akira shook his head slowly, but was interrupted before he managed his first word of reply.

“The Lady Kasuka is dead? Truly dead?”

One of the dragons had spoken, grief lifting and unassuming, still powerful, and Sesshomaru looked down with disdain on his face and cruelty in his eyes.

“Yes, she is dead. My mate killed your Mistress, called off the enchantment that bound you from all sensing.”

There were tears of joy and shouts of prayer and wonder from the dragons in front of him, and he narrowed his eyes slightly in annoyance.

“If this display does not cease you will die. Do you dare flaunt yourselves, dragons, enemies?”

The dragon who had spoken before stood, intent and formal, moving with a great stiffness, as if of age.

“You are mistaken, my Lord. We are not your enemies - we are your servants. It was the Lady Kasuka who lay on us the curse of loneliness and fear we have lived under. What youkai can ever forget the taste of blood on the tongue or the want for steel, the hard - wrought weight of a hilt in the palm? No slash of claw or tear of fangs can press joy into the heart like the roulette of play with a swift blade, the bone sharp edge of dodging, the quietness and the head rush of battle noise. We came because we were seen and knew the magic that covered us was gone - now we would hand ourselves to you in gratitude for the freedom you have bought for us.”

Sesshomaru stood silent, contemplating and reflective, and then he picked up a katana from the ground and held it out hilt first.

“What you have missed, retake in my service. I will take this oath from you, and hold the debt of your clans repaid. I give you my gratitude as well, for helping me to understand the past.”

The dragon nodded and bowed, and took the battle-worn blade from Sesshomaru's hands. His fist tightened upon it with new strength, and he bowed more deeply still, glowing with the power of the memory of joy.