InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Confessions of a Western Lord ❯ Tainted ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: dracoqueen22 
Sesshoumaru goes through with his decision
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.22.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 361 | Status: Completed
Sesshoumaru goes through with his decision
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.22.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 361 | Status: Completed
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!! I'm really glad for the support. This is two first times for me, a dark fic and an Inuyasha fandom fic so i'm glad that people are enjoying this! Thanks again!
Warning: This is a strange episode. The beginning tone is reminiscent, but then, it goes into all out R-rating with violence and blood shed. Be prepared for a twisting of your heart.
Confessions of a Western Lord
Episode 4: Tainted
Once I made my decision, I wasted no time in carrying it out. After Miroku left my side this morning, I made plans. I sent Rin and Jaken back a top Ah-Un to my home. She cried, as I knew she would, and protested loudly. But with one look, the child and Jaken left to somewhere safe. A part of me knew that what I was about to do was something that no child should be forced to see.
Rin hates being separated from me for long lengths of time. She worries for my health, an endearing but unnecessary act, and I think on some level, she fears that I will leave her. Being an orphan, I’m sure, has much to do with these fears. To be honest, I cannot really say why I have not left her behind at some ningen village with her own kind. Only that I am sure if I tried, she would seek me out, only to end up as fodder for some hungry youkai’s belly.
I cannot know why in the beginning of all this I allowed a human child to accompany me. Or why she even chose to follow after me, despite the fact that I was the one who saved her. It had been much the same when Jaken impressed himself into my service.
When I lay injured and she first came to me, afraid and yet with a determined bravery, I was intrigued by her. I was still reeling from my unfortunate failure at retrieving the Tetsusaiga, not that I had been trying particularly hard. I admit, I was a bit curious. I wondered was this the tenacity of humans that made my brother able to pull strength from nowhere to combat me time and time again?
No matter how many times I told the child that her kindness was wasted and that I did not eat ningen food, she still persisted. This only added to my ponderings, especially those concerning Tenseiga. I had once thought it an essentially useless blade. In terms of battle, it is. What use have I, an accomplished assassin, for a blade that does not kill? Yet, now, I realize that the Tenseiga can be powerful indeed.
This is what reviving Rin has shown me.
I stood there, looking down upon her bloody and mangled body, the scent of her death and wolf permeating the area causing my sensitive nose to twitch. Those once innocent eyes stared blankly up at the sky, one hand outstretched as if reaching for someone to save her. It was then that the Tenseiga pulsed at my side, almost as if it were prompting me to draw it. Intrigued, I pulled out the blade, gaze flickering along the silver sword as I contemplated it and its desires.
Then, I saw them. The skeletal-like creatures of death, sallow skin stretched tight over their thin frames and dead eyes almost glowing despite their lack of souls. The creatures grinned and displayed sharpened and decayed teeth as they wrapped the child’s spirit in chains, preparing to drag her down to the underworld. I was fascinated by this, until again the sword pulsed in my grip, a warm throbbing feeling that spread from my claws up the entire length of my arm.
Out of pure curiosity, I used the Tenseiga. The sword made two quick and artful slashes through the air, like a silver scythe, instantly banishing the soul chainers. They screeched and hissed angrily, shooting me looks of anger before disappearing. Tenseiga was sheathed in one smooth motion as I knelt fluidly and pulled the still body of the child into my arm. I waited with bated breath, wondering if the power of life and death was truly mine.
Jaken and I watched, the toad gaping in surprise, as brown eyes opened, blinking in both recognition and confusion. She simply stared up at me, her expression the same as before. There was no fear.
I had succeeded, and that thought instantly filled me with pride and satisfaction. The child now lived, all of her wounds miraculously healed. I felt a strange sort of pleasure but not because I had mourned for the loss of the human, but because I had the power. I had the strength.
It was my sword that defeated death.
As I turned to leave Rin behind, she followed after me. Somehow along the way she wormed her way inside of me, past the wall of thick ice and stone, until I became attached to her presence.
Rin is terribly perceptive, even for her young age. She knows when to keep silent and when she is free to chatter without irritating me. She is remarkably devoted to those she cares for, and her bravery, for such a child and human, surprises even me at times. I recall how she had risked her own life to save that of Jaken’s. I am not sure that I would do such a thing, even though he is my servant.
Somewhere in our travels, I have accepted her presence, and she has become the daughter I never knew I wanted or needed.
I cannot say why or how. Perhaps it had much to do with what she saw with those eyes, whenever she smiled one of those easy innocent child-like smiles. Rin did not see a fierce youkai who could kill her at any moment. Nor did she see the most feared assassin in the Western lands. She did not even see the first born /abandoned/ son of the great Inutaisho. She simply saw Sesshoumaru, as I am.
And now, with the Tenseiga as the bane of death, and Tokijin, the bane of life, I am even more powerful, even more dangerous than before. I, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands have become a most godlike daiyoukai. Yet, I have been brought to this…. hunger for a human, a desire that I cannot sate no matter how many times I seek him. And now, I seek to kill for my own purposes… all over a ningen monk. I must make claim on what is mine. The interfering demon slayer has ceased in her purpose. I will not abide by this jealousy for a human.
After I sent away Rin and Jaken, I bathed in a nearby cool spring, washing away all lingering scents of rutting from the night before. It was a constant and distracting reminder. Another reason for me to despise what I have become: this sniveling shadow of a once proud daiyoukai. I always wanted to be like my father; now, it seems that I have found his footsteps. The things that I will do, that I am planning, all for love of a human.
Pitiful.
I dressed quickly, efficiently strapping on my armor and swords, before delicately and surreptitiously sniffing the scent on the winds. I have seen my brother on his hands and knees before, nose pressed to the ground as he searched for a scent. It was an undignified act that I would never take part in under any condition. I suppose he could not be blamed for his lack of shame considering his upbringing.
I caught the easily distinguishable scent of my brother’s pack… that of ningen, kitsune, and fire cat all tumbled together in a conflagration of scents. They were coming from the north, towards the lands of the northern wolf youkai. I sniffed again, realizing the strange scent of my brother’s woman and fire kit were faint, as if the two were not present. I distinctly recalled this having happened before, usually leaving Inuyasha in a temperamental mood. That leaves me with two fewer opponents to concern myself with. I am certain that the demon slayers’ friends would not allow her to die without a fight.
I transformed myself into the ball of light that would allow me to travel at great speeds and headed in the direction of the familiar scent. By the end of the day, the demon slayer’s annoying presence would be gone from my life, and I would find some semblance of normality.
*****
I waste no time in attacking once I come upon their motley pack. They have made camp alongside a river with a rocky stream bed. My brother has already noticed my arrival and stands prepared for battle, Sango and Miroku flanking him on either side. The kit clings to Inuyasha’s shoulder, still frightened every time he sees me. A wise choice.
Inuyasha growls and charges me the minute my feet touch the ground, no idle chatter for him it seems. However, I am in no mood for games. It is not the Tetsusaiga or determining my half-breed brother’s skills that I have come for. I briefly glimpse my monk’s face as I raise the Tokijin and easily sidestep Inuyasha’s initial attack. Miroku is not shocked or surprised, but he does seem contemplative… as if he is guessing why I have come, but it is not certain. One hand remains near to his staff, ready to step in if needed.
“Too slow,” I utter simply, knowing that my taunt will further enrage Inuyasha, causing him to make even more mistakes as I easily dodge another of his unskilled and boorish attacks. He treats the weapon as if it was a large club or something equally unrefined.
Has he no finesse? No pride in his swordsmanship?
I move quickly, nearly faster than the blink of an eye as I appear behind him. He stares dumbfounded for a moment as I swing the Tokijin, the flat of the blade striking him soundly across the back. If I were out for his blood today, my half-brother would already be dead.
Feh, if I were truly out to kill him, the pitiful hanyou would have died years ago.
He stumbles forward from the force of my attack, gasping for breath as I am certain I forced the air from his lungs. Yet, it is not enough to incapacitate him. However, before I can attack again, the whistling of air alerts me to the demon slayer’s choice to join the battle. I twist my body and flip artfully backwards as the hiraikotsu flies by me, far too easy to outmaneuver. It flies in an arc, only to return to Sango’s hand, her face set with determination. They are convinced I am here to kill Inuyasha and take his sword once more.
How very wrong they are.
I shift my weight just in time to find Inuyasha attacking again, having caught his breath and restored his balance. I tighten my grip on the Tokijin and swing it, releasing the kenatsu (1) and sending a burst of my youkai out at him, forcing my brother to either leap out of the way or get caught up in the attack.
“This does not concern you,” I hiss at him coldly, informing him that he initiated this duel for no purpose even as he darts forward to continue, nearly dragging the blade of Tetsusaiga on the ground. I inwardly cringe at his lack of skill; he makes a mockery of father’s name with his unsatisfactory abilities. For all intents and purposes, though hanyou, Inuyasha is still inuyoukai. He must be made to take pride in that rather than hate his demon blood.
My brother growls as he begins to duel, the others standing by as he shoots them a glare. The kitsune has made his way to Miroku’s shoulder, the monk seeming confused… and worried at the same time.
“Why did you fucking attack us?” he demands with every swing of the Tetsusaiga. It is an easy enough task to nimbly dodge out of the way. “If you didn’t come for father’s sword then why?”
I pull back enough to allow him to use the kaze no kizu, a plan having already formed in my mind. I want to draw him into a trap, rendering him out of my way until my task is complete. I am tired of playing this fool’s game. Inuyasha is interrupting me, and that I will not tolerate.
I shall have to kill him eventually.
“I have come to claim what is mine,” I utter coldly, knowing the words will incite him to react with ire and a complete loss of control. “Never fear, dear brother, the Tetsusaiga will return to its true owner soon enough.” It is decidedly easy to manipulate him at times. I am sure that has much to do with the weakness of his hanyou heart. A demon would have more control, more pride in his own.
Inuyasha snarls, baring his fangs as he tightens his grip on father’s sword. “Tetsusaiga is mine!” he argues unnecessarily as the sword gives off a surge of power. I recognize that as the beginning of his main attack. I brace myself, easily noticing my brother’s intense look of concentration as he studies the wind scar.
I raise the Tokijin, pretending as if I intend to fight back. Seconds later, he snarls loudly, declaring the attack and sending the kaze no kizu barreling across the ground towards me in a wave of youkai power. I can feel the ground trembling from the force as the kaze no kizu rips through it, creating the familiar scarring furrow.
At the last possible moment, I leap into the air, forcing strength into my legs so that I soar above the attack. In mid-flight, I sheathe the Tokijin, calling my poison. The acidic green substance seeps onto my claw as the kaze no kizu passes harmlessly beneath me, taking out a stand of trees. I can see my brother’s look of smug satisfaction, as if he truly believes that the attack struck me.
Surely, he is not that stupid.
Nevertheless, I continue with my plan. I attack from above, barreling down upon him as an unstoppable force. He is too slow to respond, still reeling from releasing the powerful wind scar. I aim to hinder his eyes, my poison enveloping his head. He coughs and swings the Tetsusaiga blindly, his free hand rubbing at his eyes. I easily dodge the wild slashes, even as he staggers back, struggling to both breathe and see. His eyelids blink, but I know that he is blind. By the time his sight returns, my task will be complete.
“Inuyasha!” the monk calls out, very concerned, while also managing to fulfill their need to incessantly call each other’s names more times than necessary. It is a ningen habit I find most irritating, even my brother seems to have picked up on this custom.
Disgraceful.
I turn to see the demon slayer rushing me, preparing to swing the hiraikotsu. I allow a smirk to cross my features. She has made it much easier. I have never harmed any of Inuyasha’s pack before… or attempted to kill them. Perhaps it is for this reason she does not fear to attack me or maybe she is just that ignorant.
Either way, I do not have to worry about attacking her first.
“No!” Miroku yells, sudden understanding and horror on his face. He must have finally realized my plan. Or maybe it was my smirk, the one Jaken claims is much more frightening than my placid expression, which is his warning. I cannot say.
“Sango! Don’t!” he attempts to warn, but she ignores him, intent on her revenge with her face fierce.
I am not afraid of a ningen, however, even though she may be a formidable demon slayer. No one can stand up to the strength of the Lord Sesshoumaru. I stand my ground, letting her come to me, not even bothering to draw Tokijin. I shall not need it, of that I am certain. For a moment, I admire her courage for facing someone such as I, though it is laced with idiocy. It is unique as well, the strength in which she wields the weapon.
The demon slayer swings once, the huge weapon slicing through the air with an obvious keening wail. I back step quickly to avoid, her human reflexes not quick enough for mine own. She grits her teeth, brown eyes blazing with the fire and passion of ningen and brings the hiraikotsu around again, but this time, I am prepared. I narrow my eyes only slightly as the curved weapon makes a path towards my form.
Quick as lightning or perhaps even faster, I draw the Tokijin, batting away the Hiraikotsu. It careens away, landing in a tree with a perceptive thunk. The demon slayer turns in her surprise, watching the weapon sink into the bark of the tree, but that moment is more than I need. My sword is quickly sheathed, and my claws dart forward, snatching her throat with my poison tainted fingers.
Her entire body freezes as her eyes widen in shock, staring intently back into my own anger-filled gaze. A hatred for this female begins to bubble up within me as I squeeze lightly, the tips of my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.
Such fragile creatures.
A choked gargle emerges from her lips as she attempts to lash out at me. I easily dodge the pathetic try, squeezing her throat in a reflexive warning and lifting her squirming body off the ground with ease. The demon slayer – Sango if I should choose to name her – clings to my one arm, trying to alleviate the pressure on her throat. In her eyes, I can see that she knows the truth… that I am not going to just set her free.
It is intriguing how much this control excites me. I have never thought much of killing ningen before, much like they don’t think much of slaughtering livestock or cattle. Yet, the death of this female will bring me much satisfaction and an uncomfortable feeling of relief as well. Her very existence threatens me, and I will not abide by that. I begin to squeeze ever so slowly, relishing the feel of the fragile skin stretching, and my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.
“Sango!” Miroku cries out in concern, immediately disturbing my intentions.
My eyes narrow as I glance past the dangling woman, catching sight of him. He sees her weakness, and yet, still calls her name. I am unable to restrain a growl of annoyance. He is torn; I can see the hesitation in his violet eyes. One hand clutches tightly to his staff, while his cursed hand is clenched into a fist. He fears using it for harming her. Yet, he knows that within mere seconds I could easily take her life.
In another second, I am distracted, an outraged cry catching my suddenly fickle attention. I shift my gaze to spot the kitsune attempting to attack with his weak fox fire.
Silly child.
The fox kit’s eyes widen in surprise when mokomoko-sama (2) wraps around him, easily tossing him aside and into a tree where he hits with a distinct snap, collapsing into a mass of limbs and fur at the base of the vegetation. This pelt is one of my weapons. I suppose I cannot fault them for not knowing that.
Every detail of this moment is being etched into my memory even as I stand with this female’s throat in my grasp. Inuyasha growls with anger but edged in panic. I know he can scent her blood, and he fears for this ningen he considers a friend. I glimpse the fallen body of the kitsune, though I know he lives. I note the look on my monk’s face, and it is somewhere between devastation, disbelief, and pleading.
For a moment, my resolve to kill falters, and I am inexplicably torn myself. Though indifference registers on my face, beneath the surface is a seething mass of anger and hatred, directed towards this Sango. Yet, beside it remains the feelings of lust and desire for Miroku… and the sudden deep realization that I have doomed myself. I am at a crossroads yet again, and indecisiveness has never been a part of my thoughts before now. Internally, I boil with fury. Again this Sango has caused disruption of my pride, my youkai. Even now with her throat in my hands, she still has control over a part of me!
“Release her!” Miroku orders defiantly, recapturing my attention as he advances towards us, staff at the ready. Though he seems unsure of his plan, as if he hopes by merely making some sort of movement something will occur.
A slight narrowing of my eyes is the only outward indication of my twisting emotions. It is shameful that a human has brought me to this, both the monk for his conniving lust and love and the demon slayer for her gall to touch what is mine.
“You are mine!” I hiss angrily, my nose twitching at the scent of Sango’s fear, rising in steady waves all around her. It overlaps the smell of blood and the fresh water until I am nearly drowning in it… an intoxicating feeling, as if the control is all mine. Just as it should be.
Even though I can scent her fear, her eyes remain hard, her face set with grim courage. The slight feeling of control, of dominance that I am regaining, the intoxication from that fades with every defiant stare.
He attempts again, his voice softer and pleading, nearly the same tone he uses on me in the course of our liaisons. “Let her go,” he appeals. “She has nothing to do with us.”
He would say such a thing! When it is because of her he leaves in the morning! When it is the fault of her that he does not give me his all after he so blatantly took it from me! He dare tell me that this woman has nothing to do with my pain!
His outright begging for her life reignites my jealousy, fueling my hatred. All hesitancy has left me now. There is but one choice I have if I ever want to regain a sense of normalcy. The shift of power must return to my favor, the monk must be made mine! Her fear sets ablaze my fury, the scent of tears prickling my senses and blood dripping down my claws from her wounds. My youkai keens in pleasure within, eager to see and feel blood once more. A thrill of pleasure runs through my body, their fear heightening my senses as I hold her life in my hands.
But it is ruined almost immediately when I shift my gaze back to her face, meeting a mirroring anger rather than the fear I have scented.
Such arrogance for a human! In the face of one like I!
I snarl angrily, my face twisting up furiously and revealing emotion I rarely exhibit. I release her body, strangling her not enough to sate my blood lust. She stumbles, coughing, but it is only a minor respite. My claws rake down her chest, poison filling the wounds I leave behind. I slice easily through her clothing, tearing into the tender flesh and feeling warm blood spill out onto my claws. She shrieks in pain, staggering backwards as one hand goes towards the wound, her body curling over. My poison is spreading through her like a raging fire, causing her to shake.
“Sango!” Miroku’s cry barely reaches me. The sound of his running barely echoes on the edge of my consciousness.
In that moment, she still manages a glare of hatred through the pain, looking up at me with vile fury as blood drips down the front of my hakama. All traces of fear vanished from her scent, replaced with this righteous anger, even as her knees wobble… as if mocking me for being the one to drive me to such acts.
It is not enough, slicing her through with my claws. It is not enough to sate the blinding rage that courses through my body. I fiercely grabbed the Tokijin, staining the blade with my blood-soaked claw and slashed violently, releasing the kenatsu attack once more. Two equal cries of rage echoing each other barely broke the din of my blood lust as the kenatsu struck, slamming into the demon slayer’s body with enough force to send her flying backwards… directly into Miroku.
He oomphed as he caught her, both of them collapsing to the ground. The scent of blood now overrides everything in the small clearing next to the river, the waters still babbling innocently on… as if nothing had just occurred on its shore. I can feel the crimson fluid coating my claws and the hilt of the Tokijin, but I ignore the metallic scent. A strangled gasp captures my attention, turning my faintly reddening eyes back to their normal amber color as I look down impassively, seeing Miroku staring down horrified at Sango. His hand are stained with her blood.
“You bastard!” Inuyasha screams, the sound of his feet pounding across the ground a warning of his impending attack. “You killed her!” He half-chokes on a sob, attempting to attack with a snarl, though he cannot see. He is fighting blind, in a rage of sorrow.
I remain expressionless as I absorb his words and sidestep his attack, causing him to careen into the river, which will undoubtedly help with the poison. I have only a short time before he regains his eye sight. However, I ignore the plight of my half-brother, instead focusing my attention on the monk, locking my eyes with him.
“That I did,” I reply to Inuyasha’s prior statement.
Miroku stiffened, scrabbling to his feet in a mad hurry and breaking our gaze to stare down at his hands, crying out loud at the blood that soaks them thoroughly. Even his robes have fallen prey to the demon slayer’s life fluid, no longer pumping through her still form.
“Miroku, you fucking asshole!” Inuyasha splutters from the river. “You brought this!” It is obvious what he means, my brother being the only one who knew of our liaison.
I narrow my eyes in anger, planning on retorting to his foolish words when Miroku gives a strangled cry, violet orbs widening in shock and disgust. His gaze shifts from mine back to the mangled body of the demon slayer, taking one and then two steps back. I am not certain that the look on his face is a good thing. I take one minor step forward, though I’m not sure why, but he shakes his head, suddenly turning and running, staff still in his hand.
I take off without another thought. It is he that I have come for, he that I commit this deed to claim. Even while I am flitting through the forest, my speed hardly anything to rival his own, I am again struck by this loss of pride in my being that I have suffered. For this human, I have killed. I have lain on my back and offered my body. I have given chase like a jilted lover. It is demeaning. Yet, I cannot seem to stop myself.
Within moments, I have caught up to him, though a far enough distance from their campsite that the smell of the demon slayer’s blood has faded slightly. I can still scent it lingering on my clothes and claws, however. I grab his arm to cease his fleeing, but unexpectedly, Miroku whirls on me, swinging his staff directly at my head. I easily dodge the blow but frown as he rips his arm free from my grasp.
“You bastard!” he screamed, the scent of salty tears beginning to overwhelm my senses. “You killed her, you bastard!” He holds the staff tight in his hands, veins popping on his fingers from the force of his grip. I wisely keep my distance as his anger overspills from his lips, directly entirely at me.
“I did,” I reply dispassionately, seeing no need to deny the truth.
Miroku is stating the obvious as all ningen are wont to do, but I will forgive him this annoyance. He cannot help his human heart and feelings. They have superseded his judgment and turned him into an emotional wreck. It is understandable for the moment.
He blinks away the tears, struggling to keep the cries within. “Why?” he grounds out, voice ragged with his sorrow and fury. “Why! Damn you… why?” He is nearly pleading to understand, as if he is torn between his loyalty to her and his desire for me.
Though I do not feel a need to explain my actions to him, I have never been able to keep within the ice shield. Something about this monk makes me react differently than my impassive shell of indifference, than my arrogant youkai pride. I cannot explain it, only that I desire to assuage his pain, somehow making it my own.
“She was interfering.”
Violet eyes blaze in rage as he clamps his teeth. “You had no right!” he growls. “None! To take her life! I’m not a possession!” The last is yelled in a voice that climbs in pitch, forced from his lips and heavy with distaste and anger. So much passion… for their short lives, humans have so much passion. I find myself nearly envying it.
I narrow my eyes almost imperceptibly. I had no right? The demon slayer dared touch what was mine, though she had not known. With her teasing ways, leading him into thinking there was a future, ultimately stringing him along in a flurry of false hope. Yet, I had no right?
“I do not share… nor will I abide by irrational jealousies. I made that clear.” I am insistent, my voice firm and unyielding.
I crave Miroku, every part of my body straining to be joined with us, so much so that I am fighting within myself to keep it under control. He takes it from me so easily, this control that I covet so much. And though I give up all pride for the pleasure this monk can bring me, I will not beg or cajole. I will not plead with him to understand.
Miroku clenches his jaw, fingers shaking as they grip the staff. “You killed her!” he reiterated on a hiss, narrowing his own eyes. “Did you think I would come to you when you slay the woman I love?”
Love… to use such a word so blatantly around me and yet not directed towards my person. There is a strange gripping inside of me, some sort of clawing, numbing feeling that I am not sure how to describe it. That is what he has done to me. Opening up the gates, allowing these emotions to filter in when I have blocked them for so long. I cannot identify the shiver up my spine at his words.
“I have killed many ningen.” My retort is cold. “She was no different.”
Even as the words pass from my lips, I know them to be a lie. She was different from all the rest because I sought her out and made a personal vendetta. Her death was planned and executed swiftly. She stood in the way of my pride, of my gradual return to what I should be, a proud daiyoukai. And now Miroku is mine and mine alone… as it should have been in the first place.
Instead, my monk’s eyes frost over with anger, and he stands up proud, glaring at me from our short distance apart. “I am no fool,” he claims. “You would get to me before I can pull you into my kazaana, though you deserve to die.” He literally spat his words at me, as if my presence were a vile stain upon his existence.
The beginnings of anger curl in my body, although him being dominating causes my body to shiver with excitement. I keep my expression schooled into nonchalance, however, unwilling to show my emotions
“But I am as much to blame,” he continues, lowering his staff and his voice, the tone shifting to something frightening cold and remorseless, almost dead. In this moment, he sounds like me, and I am not prepared to deal with such a thing. “If you ever come near me with that tainted hand again, I will pull you into oblivion… my own fate be damned.”
At his words, my nose twitches at the scent of Sango’s blood still clinging to my clothes, armor, and claws. He turns then and begins to walk into the forest, making his steps an even pace, staff clicking against the ground at planned intervals.
He does not even run this time, nor do I chase him. Not this time.
Despite what has been taken from me, what I have given, I must keep this small bit of pride. As his form disappears into the darkened trees around us, I can see his shoulders slump, and the scent of tears assails my nostrils once more. Yet, still I do not give pursuit. I cannot.
I turn, determined to seek the fresh spring that I can sense and wash off the foul smell of the demon slayer, but in the act of doing so, something within me breaks… much like the feeling that assailed me when Miroku professed his love for Sango. It hits like a physical pain, nearly rending my innards like the cut of a knife and causing an unexpected gasp to burst from my mouth. I cannot understand or identify this emotion, this ragged sense of loss and it causes me to snarl irritably.
That brief control I had regained from defeating Sango had been stolen once more, it seems. Miroku means more than I ever realized. I want… no need him, with every inch of my being. Something within me craves him beyond all normal thought and desire.
My claw clenches into a fist. The monk has to be mine… must be… without any sense of doubt. Perhaps not this very moment, not when his grief is so fresh, his unnecessary and ridiculous sorrow. I will give him time to calm, time to realize that I have chosen what is better then I will seek him, and then I will bring him back to me.
But even as I force my body into a sort of calm and head towards the spring, his words cannot help but reverberate within my mind.
“That tainted claw….”
****
(1) The name of Tokijin’s attack, the power behind it depending upon Sesshoumaru’s will.
(2) The fluffy fur-like object that rests on Sesshoumaru’s shoulder.
A/N: No, this is not the last episode. There is one more. And yes, Sango is dead, completely and utterly. Sesshoumaru will not be guiltily flying to her dead body and reviving her with the Tenseiga, that scenario is just highly unlikely with the plot I have built. I know I probably could write a much longer fic with this plotline, rather than the five episodes that jump in time. And perhaps I will. But as of right now, I am considering writing a partner fiction to this which would be titled Confessions of a Cursed Monk, from Miroku's POV of course. It depends on what you, the readers, want.
With that said, please review. I am glad for any feedback, encouraging or not.
Warning: This is a strange episode. The beginning tone is reminiscent, but then, it goes into all out R-rating with violence and blood shed. Be prepared for a twisting of your heart.
Confessions of a Western Lord
Episode 4: Tainted
Once I made my decision, I wasted no time in carrying it out. After Miroku left my side this morning, I made plans. I sent Rin and Jaken back a top Ah-Un to my home. She cried, as I knew she would, and protested loudly. But with one look, the child and Jaken left to somewhere safe. A part of me knew that what I was about to do was something that no child should be forced to see.
Rin hates being separated from me for long lengths of time. She worries for my health, an endearing but unnecessary act, and I think on some level, she fears that I will leave her. Being an orphan, I’m sure, has much to do with these fears. To be honest, I cannot really say why I have not left her behind at some ningen village with her own kind. Only that I am sure if I tried, she would seek me out, only to end up as fodder for some hungry youkai’s belly.
I cannot know why in the beginning of all this I allowed a human child to accompany me. Or why she even chose to follow after me, despite the fact that I was the one who saved her. It had been much the same when Jaken impressed himself into my service.
When I lay injured and she first came to me, afraid and yet with a determined bravery, I was intrigued by her. I was still reeling from my unfortunate failure at retrieving the Tetsusaiga, not that I had been trying particularly hard. I admit, I was a bit curious. I wondered was this the tenacity of humans that made my brother able to pull strength from nowhere to combat me time and time again?
No matter how many times I told the child that her kindness was wasted and that I did not eat ningen food, she still persisted. This only added to my ponderings, especially those concerning Tenseiga. I had once thought it an essentially useless blade. In terms of battle, it is. What use have I, an accomplished assassin, for a blade that does not kill? Yet, now, I realize that the Tenseiga can be powerful indeed.
This is what reviving Rin has shown me.
I stood there, looking down upon her bloody and mangled body, the scent of her death and wolf permeating the area causing my sensitive nose to twitch. Those once innocent eyes stared blankly up at the sky, one hand outstretched as if reaching for someone to save her. It was then that the Tenseiga pulsed at my side, almost as if it were prompting me to draw it. Intrigued, I pulled out the blade, gaze flickering along the silver sword as I contemplated it and its desires.
Then, I saw them. The skeletal-like creatures of death, sallow skin stretched tight over their thin frames and dead eyes almost glowing despite their lack of souls. The creatures grinned and displayed sharpened and decayed teeth as they wrapped the child’s spirit in chains, preparing to drag her down to the underworld. I was fascinated by this, until again the sword pulsed in my grip, a warm throbbing feeling that spread from my claws up the entire length of my arm.
Out of pure curiosity, I used the Tenseiga. The sword made two quick and artful slashes through the air, like a silver scythe, instantly banishing the soul chainers. They screeched and hissed angrily, shooting me looks of anger before disappearing. Tenseiga was sheathed in one smooth motion as I knelt fluidly and pulled the still body of the child into my arm. I waited with bated breath, wondering if the power of life and death was truly mine.
Jaken and I watched, the toad gaping in surprise, as brown eyes opened, blinking in both recognition and confusion. She simply stared up at me, her expression the same as before. There was no fear.
I had succeeded, and that thought instantly filled me with pride and satisfaction. The child now lived, all of her wounds miraculously healed. I felt a strange sort of pleasure but not because I had mourned for the loss of the human, but because I had the power. I had the strength.
It was my sword that defeated death.
As I turned to leave Rin behind, she followed after me. Somehow along the way she wormed her way inside of me, past the wall of thick ice and stone, until I became attached to her presence.
Rin is terribly perceptive, even for her young age. She knows when to keep silent and when she is free to chatter without irritating me. She is remarkably devoted to those she cares for, and her bravery, for such a child and human, surprises even me at times. I recall how she had risked her own life to save that of Jaken’s. I am not sure that I would do such a thing, even though he is my servant.
Somewhere in our travels, I have accepted her presence, and she has become the daughter I never knew I wanted or needed.
I cannot say why or how. Perhaps it had much to do with what she saw with those eyes, whenever she smiled one of those easy innocent child-like smiles. Rin did not see a fierce youkai who could kill her at any moment. Nor did she see the most feared assassin in the Western lands. She did not even see the first born /abandoned/ son of the great Inutaisho. She simply saw Sesshoumaru, as I am.
And now, with the Tenseiga as the bane of death, and Tokijin, the bane of life, I am even more powerful, even more dangerous than before. I, Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands have become a most godlike daiyoukai. Yet, I have been brought to this…. hunger for a human, a desire that I cannot sate no matter how many times I seek him. And now, I seek to kill for my own purposes… all over a ningen monk. I must make claim on what is mine. The interfering demon slayer has ceased in her purpose. I will not abide by this jealousy for a human.
After I sent away Rin and Jaken, I bathed in a nearby cool spring, washing away all lingering scents of rutting from the night before. It was a constant and distracting reminder. Another reason for me to despise what I have become: this sniveling shadow of a once proud daiyoukai. I always wanted to be like my father; now, it seems that I have found his footsteps. The things that I will do, that I am planning, all for love of a human.
Pitiful.
I dressed quickly, efficiently strapping on my armor and swords, before delicately and surreptitiously sniffing the scent on the winds. I have seen my brother on his hands and knees before, nose pressed to the ground as he searched for a scent. It was an undignified act that I would never take part in under any condition. I suppose he could not be blamed for his lack of shame considering his upbringing.
I caught the easily distinguishable scent of my brother’s pack… that of ningen, kitsune, and fire cat all tumbled together in a conflagration of scents. They were coming from the north, towards the lands of the northern wolf youkai. I sniffed again, realizing the strange scent of my brother’s woman and fire kit were faint, as if the two were not present. I distinctly recalled this having happened before, usually leaving Inuyasha in a temperamental mood. That leaves me with two fewer opponents to concern myself with. I am certain that the demon slayers’ friends would not allow her to die without a fight.
I transformed myself into the ball of light that would allow me to travel at great speeds and headed in the direction of the familiar scent. By the end of the day, the demon slayer’s annoying presence would be gone from my life, and I would find some semblance of normality.
*****
I waste no time in attacking once I come upon their motley pack. They have made camp alongside a river with a rocky stream bed. My brother has already noticed my arrival and stands prepared for battle, Sango and Miroku flanking him on either side. The kit clings to Inuyasha’s shoulder, still frightened every time he sees me. A wise choice.
Inuyasha growls and charges me the minute my feet touch the ground, no idle chatter for him it seems. However, I am in no mood for games. It is not the Tetsusaiga or determining my half-breed brother’s skills that I have come for. I briefly glimpse my monk’s face as I raise the Tokijin and easily sidestep Inuyasha’s initial attack. Miroku is not shocked or surprised, but he does seem contemplative… as if he is guessing why I have come, but it is not certain. One hand remains near to his staff, ready to step in if needed.
“Too slow,” I utter simply, knowing that my taunt will further enrage Inuyasha, causing him to make even more mistakes as I easily dodge another of his unskilled and boorish attacks. He treats the weapon as if it was a large club or something equally unrefined.
Has he no finesse? No pride in his swordsmanship?
I move quickly, nearly faster than the blink of an eye as I appear behind him. He stares dumbfounded for a moment as I swing the Tokijin, the flat of the blade striking him soundly across the back. If I were out for his blood today, my half-brother would already be dead.
Feh, if I were truly out to kill him, the pitiful hanyou would have died years ago.
He stumbles forward from the force of my attack, gasping for breath as I am certain I forced the air from his lungs. Yet, it is not enough to incapacitate him. However, before I can attack again, the whistling of air alerts me to the demon slayer’s choice to join the battle. I twist my body and flip artfully backwards as the hiraikotsu flies by me, far too easy to outmaneuver. It flies in an arc, only to return to Sango’s hand, her face set with determination. They are convinced I am here to kill Inuyasha and take his sword once more.
How very wrong they are.
I shift my weight just in time to find Inuyasha attacking again, having caught his breath and restored his balance. I tighten my grip on the Tokijin and swing it, releasing the kenatsu (1) and sending a burst of my youkai out at him, forcing my brother to either leap out of the way or get caught up in the attack.
“This does not concern you,” I hiss at him coldly, informing him that he initiated this duel for no purpose even as he darts forward to continue, nearly dragging the blade of Tetsusaiga on the ground. I inwardly cringe at his lack of skill; he makes a mockery of father’s name with his unsatisfactory abilities. For all intents and purposes, though hanyou, Inuyasha is still inuyoukai. He must be made to take pride in that rather than hate his demon blood.
My brother growls as he begins to duel, the others standing by as he shoots them a glare. The kitsune has made his way to Miroku’s shoulder, the monk seeming confused… and worried at the same time.
“Why did you fucking attack us?” he demands with every swing of the Tetsusaiga. It is an easy enough task to nimbly dodge out of the way. “If you didn’t come for father’s sword then why?”
I pull back enough to allow him to use the kaze no kizu, a plan having already formed in my mind. I want to draw him into a trap, rendering him out of my way until my task is complete. I am tired of playing this fool’s game. Inuyasha is interrupting me, and that I will not tolerate.
I shall have to kill him eventually.
“I have come to claim what is mine,” I utter coldly, knowing the words will incite him to react with ire and a complete loss of control. “Never fear, dear brother, the Tetsusaiga will return to its true owner soon enough.” It is decidedly easy to manipulate him at times. I am sure that has much to do with the weakness of his hanyou heart. A demon would have more control, more pride in his own.
Inuyasha snarls, baring his fangs as he tightens his grip on father’s sword. “Tetsusaiga is mine!” he argues unnecessarily as the sword gives off a surge of power. I recognize that as the beginning of his main attack. I brace myself, easily noticing my brother’s intense look of concentration as he studies the wind scar.
I raise the Tokijin, pretending as if I intend to fight back. Seconds later, he snarls loudly, declaring the attack and sending the kaze no kizu barreling across the ground towards me in a wave of youkai power. I can feel the ground trembling from the force as the kaze no kizu rips through it, creating the familiar scarring furrow.
At the last possible moment, I leap into the air, forcing strength into my legs so that I soar above the attack. In mid-flight, I sheathe the Tokijin, calling my poison. The acidic green substance seeps onto my claw as the kaze no kizu passes harmlessly beneath me, taking out a stand of trees. I can see my brother’s look of smug satisfaction, as if he truly believes that the attack struck me.
Surely, he is not that stupid.
Nevertheless, I continue with my plan. I attack from above, barreling down upon him as an unstoppable force. He is too slow to respond, still reeling from releasing the powerful wind scar. I aim to hinder his eyes, my poison enveloping his head. He coughs and swings the Tetsusaiga blindly, his free hand rubbing at his eyes. I easily dodge the wild slashes, even as he staggers back, struggling to both breathe and see. His eyelids blink, but I know that he is blind. By the time his sight returns, my task will be complete.
“Inuyasha!” the monk calls out, very concerned, while also managing to fulfill their need to incessantly call each other’s names more times than necessary. It is a ningen habit I find most irritating, even my brother seems to have picked up on this custom.
Disgraceful.
I turn to see the demon slayer rushing me, preparing to swing the hiraikotsu. I allow a smirk to cross my features. She has made it much easier. I have never harmed any of Inuyasha’s pack before… or attempted to kill them. Perhaps it is for this reason she does not fear to attack me or maybe she is just that ignorant.
Either way, I do not have to worry about attacking her first.
“No!” Miroku yells, sudden understanding and horror on his face. He must have finally realized my plan. Or maybe it was my smirk, the one Jaken claims is much more frightening than my placid expression, which is his warning. I cannot say.
“Sango! Don’t!” he attempts to warn, but she ignores him, intent on her revenge with her face fierce.
I am not afraid of a ningen, however, even though she may be a formidable demon slayer. No one can stand up to the strength of the Lord Sesshoumaru. I stand my ground, letting her come to me, not even bothering to draw Tokijin. I shall not need it, of that I am certain. For a moment, I admire her courage for facing someone such as I, though it is laced with idiocy. It is unique as well, the strength in which she wields the weapon.
The demon slayer swings once, the huge weapon slicing through the air with an obvious keening wail. I back step quickly to avoid, her human reflexes not quick enough for mine own. She grits her teeth, brown eyes blazing with the fire and passion of ningen and brings the hiraikotsu around again, but this time, I am prepared. I narrow my eyes only slightly as the curved weapon makes a path towards my form.
Quick as lightning or perhaps even faster, I draw the Tokijin, batting away the Hiraikotsu. It careens away, landing in a tree with a perceptive thunk. The demon slayer turns in her surprise, watching the weapon sink into the bark of the tree, but that moment is more than I need. My sword is quickly sheathed, and my claws dart forward, snatching her throat with my poison tainted fingers.
Her entire body freezes as her eyes widen in shock, staring intently back into my own anger-filled gaze. A hatred for this female begins to bubble up within me as I squeeze lightly, the tips of my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.
Such fragile creatures.
A choked gargle emerges from her lips as she attempts to lash out at me. I easily dodge the pathetic try, squeezing her throat in a reflexive warning and lifting her squirming body off the ground with ease. The demon slayer – Sango if I should choose to name her – clings to my one arm, trying to alleviate the pressure on her throat. In her eyes, I can see that she knows the truth… that I am not going to just set her free.
It is intriguing how much this control excites me. I have never thought much of killing ningen before, much like they don’t think much of slaughtering livestock or cattle. Yet, the death of this female will bring me much satisfaction and an uncomfortable feeling of relief as well. Her very existence threatens me, and I will not abide by that. I begin to squeeze ever so slowly, relishing the feel of the fragile skin stretching, and my claws breaking her delicate ningen skin.
“Sango!” Miroku cries out in concern, immediately disturbing my intentions.
My eyes narrow as I glance past the dangling woman, catching sight of him. He sees her weakness, and yet, still calls her name. I am unable to restrain a growl of annoyance. He is torn; I can see the hesitation in his violet eyes. One hand clutches tightly to his staff, while his cursed hand is clenched into a fist. He fears using it for harming her. Yet, he knows that within mere seconds I could easily take her life.
In another second, I am distracted, an outraged cry catching my suddenly fickle attention. I shift my gaze to spot the kitsune attempting to attack with his weak fox fire.
Silly child.
The fox kit’s eyes widen in surprise when mokomoko-sama (2) wraps around him, easily tossing him aside and into a tree where he hits with a distinct snap, collapsing into a mass of limbs and fur at the base of the vegetation. This pelt is one of my weapons. I suppose I cannot fault them for not knowing that.
Every detail of this moment is being etched into my memory even as I stand with this female’s throat in my grasp. Inuyasha growls with anger but edged in panic. I know he can scent her blood, and he fears for this ningen he considers a friend. I glimpse the fallen body of the kitsune, though I know he lives. I note the look on my monk’s face, and it is somewhere between devastation, disbelief, and pleading.
For a moment, my resolve to kill falters, and I am inexplicably torn myself. Though indifference registers on my face, beneath the surface is a seething mass of anger and hatred, directed towards this Sango. Yet, beside it remains the feelings of lust and desire for Miroku… and the sudden deep realization that I have doomed myself. I am at a crossroads yet again, and indecisiveness has never been a part of my thoughts before now. Internally, I boil with fury. Again this Sango has caused disruption of my pride, my youkai. Even now with her throat in my hands, she still has control over a part of me!
“Release her!” Miroku orders defiantly, recapturing my attention as he advances towards us, staff at the ready. Though he seems unsure of his plan, as if he hopes by merely making some sort of movement something will occur.
A slight narrowing of my eyes is the only outward indication of my twisting emotions. It is shameful that a human has brought me to this, both the monk for his conniving lust and love and the demon slayer for her gall to touch what is mine.
“You are mine!” I hiss angrily, my nose twitching at the scent of Sango’s fear, rising in steady waves all around her. It overlaps the smell of blood and the fresh water until I am nearly drowning in it… an intoxicating feeling, as if the control is all mine. Just as it should be.
Even though I can scent her fear, her eyes remain hard, her face set with grim courage. The slight feeling of control, of dominance that I am regaining, the intoxication from that fades with every defiant stare.
He attempts again, his voice softer and pleading, nearly the same tone he uses on me in the course of our liaisons. “Let her go,” he appeals. “She has nothing to do with us.”
He would say such a thing! When it is because of her he leaves in the morning! When it is the fault of her that he does not give me his all after he so blatantly took it from me! He dare tell me that this woman has nothing to do with my pain!
His outright begging for her life reignites my jealousy, fueling my hatred. All hesitancy has left me now. There is but one choice I have if I ever want to regain a sense of normalcy. The shift of power must return to my favor, the monk must be made mine! Her fear sets ablaze my fury, the scent of tears prickling my senses and blood dripping down my claws from her wounds. My youkai keens in pleasure within, eager to see and feel blood once more. A thrill of pleasure runs through my body, their fear heightening my senses as I hold her life in my hands.
But it is ruined almost immediately when I shift my gaze back to her face, meeting a mirroring anger rather than the fear I have scented.
Such arrogance for a human! In the face of one like I!
I snarl angrily, my face twisting up furiously and revealing emotion I rarely exhibit. I release her body, strangling her not enough to sate my blood lust. She stumbles, coughing, but it is only a minor respite. My claws rake down her chest, poison filling the wounds I leave behind. I slice easily through her clothing, tearing into the tender flesh and feeling warm blood spill out onto my claws. She shrieks in pain, staggering backwards as one hand goes towards the wound, her body curling over. My poison is spreading through her like a raging fire, causing her to shake.
“Sango!” Miroku’s cry barely reaches me. The sound of his running barely echoes on the edge of my consciousness.
In that moment, she still manages a glare of hatred through the pain, looking up at me with vile fury as blood drips down the front of my hakama. All traces of fear vanished from her scent, replaced with this righteous anger, even as her knees wobble… as if mocking me for being the one to drive me to such acts.
It is not enough, slicing her through with my claws. It is not enough to sate the blinding rage that courses through my body. I fiercely grabbed the Tokijin, staining the blade with my blood-soaked claw and slashed violently, releasing the kenatsu attack once more. Two equal cries of rage echoing each other barely broke the din of my blood lust as the kenatsu struck, slamming into the demon slayer’s body with enough force to send her flying backwards… directly into Miroku.
He oomphed as he caught her, both of them collapsing to the ground. The scent of blood now overrides everything in the small clearing next to the river, the waters still babbling innocently on… as if nothing had just occurred on its shore. I can feel the crimson fluid coating my claws and the hilt of the Tokijin, but I ignore the metallic scent. A strangled gasp captures my attention, turning my faintly reddening eyes back to their normal amber color as I look down impassively, seeing Miroku staring down horrified at Sango. His hand are stained with her blood.
“You bastard!” Inuyasha screams, the sound of his feet pounding across the ground a warning of his impending attack. “You killed her!” He half-chokes on a sob, attempting to attack with a snarl, though he cannot see. He is fighting blind, in a rage of sorrow.
I remain expressionless as I absorb his words and sidestep his attack, causing him to careen into the river, which will undoubtedly help with the poison. I have only a short time before he regains his eye sight. However, I ignore the plight of my half-brother, instead focusing my attention on the monk, locking my eyes with him.
“That I did,” I reply to Inuyasha’s prior statement.
Miroku stiffened, scrabbling to his feet in a mad hurry and breaking our gaze to stare down at his hands, crying out loud at the blood that soaks them thoroughly. Even his robes have fallen prey to the demon slayer’s life fluid, no longer pumping through her still form.
“Miroku, you fucking asshole!” Inuyasha splutters from the river. “You brought this!” It is obvious what he means, my brother being the only one who knew of our liaison.
I narrow my eyes in anger, planning on retorting to his foolish words when Miroku gives a strangled cry, violet orbs widening in shock and disgust. His gaze shifts from mine back to the mangled body of the demon slayer, taking one and then two steps back. I am not certain that the look on his face is a good thing. I take one minor step forward, though I’m not sure why, but he shakes his head, suddenly turning and running, staff still in his hand.
I take off without another thought. It is he that I have come for, he that I commit this deed to claim. Even while I am flitting through the forest, my speed hardly anything to rival his own, I am again struck by this loss of pride in my being that I have suffered. For this human, I have killed. I have lain on my back and offered my body. I have given chase like a jilted lover. It is demeaning. Yet, I cannot seem to stop myself.
Within moments, I have caught up to him, though a far enough distance from their campsite that the smell of the demon slayer’s blood has faded slightly. I can still scent it lingering on my clothes and claws, however. I grab his arm to cease his fleeing, but unexpectedly, Miroku whirls on me, swinging his staff directly at my head. I easily dodge the blow but frown as he rips his arm free from my grasp.
“You bastard!” he screamed, the scent of salty tears beginning to overwhelm my senses. “You killed her, you bastard!” He holds the staff tight in his hands, veins popping on his fingers from the force of his grip. I wisely keep my distance as his anger overspills from his lips, directly entirely at me.
“I did,” I reply dispassionately, seeing no need to deny the truth.
Miroku is stating the obvious as all ningen are wont to do, but I will forgive him this annoyance. He cannot help his human heart and feelings. They have superseded his judgment and turned him into an emotional wreck. It is understandable for the moment.
He blinks away the tears, struggling to keep the cries within. “Why?” he grounds out, voice ragged with his sorrow and fury. “Why! Damn you… why?” He is nearly pleading to understand, as if he is torn between his loyalty to her and his desire for me.
Though I do not feel a need to explain my actions to him, I have never been able to keep within the ice shield. Something about this monk makes me react differently than my impassive shell of indifference, than my arrogant youkai pride. I cannot explain it, only that I desire to assuage his pain, somehow making it my own.
“She was interfering.”
Violet eyes blaze in rage as he clamps his teeth. “You had no right!” he growls. “None! To take her life! I’m not a possession!” The last is yelled in a voice that climbs in pitch, forced from his lips and heavy with distaste and anger. So much passion… for their short lives, humans have so much passion. I find myself nearly envying it.
I narrow my eyes almost imperceptibly. I had no right? The demon slayer dared touch what was mine, though she had not known. With her teasing ways, leading him into thinking there was a future, ultimately stringing him along in a flurry of false hope. Yet, I had no right?
“I do not share… nor will I abide by irrational jealousies. I made that clear.” I am insistent, my voice firm and unyielding.
I crave Miroku, every part of my body straining to be joined with us, so much so that I am fighting within myself to keep it under control. He takes it from me so easily, this control that I covet so much. And though I give up all pride for the pleasure this monk can bring me, I will not beg or cajole. I will not plead with him to understand.
Miroku clenches his jaw, fingers shaking as they grip the staff. “You killed her!” he reiterated on a hiss, narrowing his own eyes. “Did you think I would come to you when you slay the woman I love?”
Love… to use such a word so blatantly around me and yet not directed towards my person. There is a strange gripping inside of me, some sort of clawing, numbing feeling that I am not sure how to describe it. That is what he has done to me. Opening up the gates, allowing these emotions to filter in when I have blocked them for so long. I cannot identify the shiver up my spine at his words.
“I have killed many ningen.” My retort is cold. “She was no different.”
Even as the words pass from my lips, I know them to be a lie. She was different from all the rest because I sought her out and made a personal vendetta. Her death was planned and executed swiftly. She stood in the way of my pride, of my gradual return to what I should be, a proud daiyoukai. And now Miroku is mine and mine alone… as it should have been in the first place.
Instead, my monk’s eyes frost over with anger, and he stands up proud, glaring at me from our short distance apart. “I am no fool,” he claims. “You would get to me before I can pull you into my kazaana, though you deserve to die.” He literally spat his words at me, as if my presence were a vile stain upon his existence.
The beginnings of anger curl in my body, although him being dominating causes my body to shiver with excitement. I keep my expression schooled into nonchalance, however, unwilling to show my emotions
“But I am as much to blame,” he continues, lowering his staff and his voice, the tone shifting to something frightening cold and remorseless, almost dead. In this moment, he sounds like me, and I am not prepared to deal with such a thing. “If you ever come near me with that tainted hand again, I will pull you into oblivion… my own fate be damned.”
At his words, my nose twitches at the scent of Sango’s blood still clinging to my clothes, armor, and claws. He turns then and begins to walk into the forest, making his steps an even pace, staff clicking against the ground at planned intervals.
He does not even run this time, nor do I chase him. Not this time.
Despite what has been taken from me, what I have given, I must keep this small bit of pride. As his form disappears into the darkened trees around us, I can see his shoulders slump, and the scent of tears assails my nostrils once more. Yet, still I do not give pursuit. I cannot.
I turn, determined to seek the fresh spring that I can sense and wash off the foul smell of the demon slayer, but in the act of doing so, something within me breaks… much like the feeling that assailed me when Miroku professed his love for Sango. It hits like a physical pain, nearly rending my innards like the cut of a knife and causing an unexpected gasp to burst from my mouth. I cannot understand or identify this emotion, this ragged sense of loss and it causes me to snarl irritably.
That brief control I had regained from defeating Sango had been stolen once more, it seems. Miroku means more than I ever realized. I want… no need him, with every inch of my being. Something within me craves him beyond all normal thought and desire.
My claw clenches into a fist. The monk has to be mine… must be… without any sense of doubt. Perhaps not this very moment, not when his grief is so fresh, his unnecessary and ridiculous sorrow. I will give him time to calm, time to realize that I have chosen what is better then I will seek him, and then I will bring him back to me.
But even as I force my body into a sort of calm and head towards the spring, his words cannot help but reverberate within my mind.
“That tainted claw….”
****
(1) The name of Tokijin’s attack, the power behind it depending upon Sesshoumaru’s will.
(2) The fluffy fur-like object that rests on Sesshoumaru’s shoulder.
A/N: No, this is not the last episode. There is one more. And yes, Sango is dead, completely and utterly. Sesshoumaru will not be guiltily flying to her dead body and reviving her with the Tenseiga, that scenario is just highly unlikely with the plot I have built. I know I probably could write a much longer fic with this plotline, rather than the five episodes that jump in time. And perhaps I will. But as of right now, I am considering writing a partner fiction to this which would be titled Confessions of a Cursed Monk, from Miroku's POV of course. It depends on what you, the readers, want.
With that said, please review. I am glad for any feedback, encouraging or not.