InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Crescent Moon On The Brow Of The Sky ❯ In Crimson Memory ( Chapter 11 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Hello! Sorry for the delay in updating- this chapter was long and hard to write. It has some sad gore in it, if that can serve as an explanation.

IF YOU HAVE NOT YET DONE SO, RE-READ THE REVISED VERSION OF CHAPTER 10. OTHERWISE, THINGS WILL GET CONFUSING!

Okay, I got so many reviews for the last chapter! Thank you all! Love everyone for their support, and even their criticism. All's good, all's good. I appreciate criticism too, for how else am I to grow?

Ffnet reviewers:I heard that ffnet's going to have a spazz attack and freeze people if they reply to reviews on ffnet. I thank all of you for your reviews and your praise(and there was a lot) but I don't want my account frozen. So you can find your replies on my xanga site, and there is a link in my profile.

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Disclaimer: Nope! Thought you know by now. I don't own a thing...

In Crimson Memory

Kagura's fan spread wide, bringing the world of the dead to her feet in a single command. Her red lips smiled, relishing this brief, fleeting moment of power, of control, of freedom. He tells me to destroy this village in the Taiyoukai's path; yet he does not tell me how or why. And in this destruction I may find my absolution.

Her dark father's plans were in effect perfectly; her brother was mad, tearing up the spring landscape in search of revenge, blind to the fact that it was Naraku who brought his twin's life to an end, gobbling him back into his dark soul.

That fool. He unknowingly went along with Naraku's plans, a tool like all the rest. He would destroy the child, and bring the miko as a prize to Naraku, as she believed would occur.

Oh, how would she laugh when she saw Naraku's corpse beneath the moon, his blood sprinkled on the smooth face of a taiyoukai enraged.

She smiled, the venom of it lost in the empty landscape. And then I will be free.

She lifted herself, cupped in the ivory softness of her feather, into the darkness of the sky to wait.

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Rin sang loudly and brightly as she ran in the field, scooping up flowers, blowing seeds into clouds of flurried white. Kagome smiled softly, her heart full at the sight of this child, at this untroubled innocence. The girl giggled, capturing her hand in her own, pulling her along so fast that she stumbled over hidden stones. They stopped, deep in the sea of swaying grasses, the heat of noon pressing down upon them.

Rin panted, her healthy lungs tired and fighting for breath from running, laughing, stumbling.“You wanted to find a place to bathe...Kagome...san...?”

“Hai, Rin. Where- where is this place?”

Rin began to run once more, yet not before bending, picking a flower and tugging it behind Kagome's ear. She smiled.“Close...soon...”

Rin captured her hand, pulling her along, following the sweet sounds of flowing water, falling like music upon the air. Kagome's hair swung in the wind like dark folds of silk.

They came upon the swift river, light blooming off of its surface, along with her softly glowing reflection. The water swept away in a wash of foam, tumbling over stones and dancing like a breath.

She thanked Rin with a smile, slipped her kimono off of her skin, and slipped into the swaying reeds and water of the bank. The water was still frigid, too swift to warm beneath the spring sun, and so she splashed water onto her skin quickly, scrubbing off sweat and dirt.

She sank beneath the water, letting it fill her, letting it drown the constant ache that was her heart, pounding over loss- and a love that was dangerous, was one-sided, was forced from her by the blade of a sword.

A quiet howl of despair fell from her mouth. Rin, humming upon the shore, seemed not to hear. I do not want to love him. I love...

She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing her cheeks. I love him. He does not love me...

He gave her life, pulled her out of darkness, helped her from drowning in sorrow and guilt. His cold eyes, his silver skin and hair, as beautiful as the moon. And she, the one who carried his beloved sword, was nothing but a human to him, harbouring a quiet love of him in her heart. He was distant, as distant to her as the sea, as deep, as and featureless.

She could not bear to understand the turbulence of this demon, the flatness of his eyes.

And for that, she was doomed, forever loving this distant, troubled, solitary one. Her heart was forever doomed to love someone she could never have.

The Taiyoukai knew of her love; and he was cruel.

She was dead. She had been killed, her destiny fulfilled. She need not be here now, living on a tattered existence, torn of all of her innocence.

She deserved to die for her final betrayal of Inu Yasha; loving the brother he hated deeply.

Kagome stood and slipped on her kimono, letting its hem trail in the water. She made to move to the shore, but her feet caught and slipped on rocks beneath her, and suddenly she found herself pulled under, silver bubbles gasping forth from her lips. The tide swirled around her, the sun blue-white, glowing through the current. She faintly heard Rin's voice, calling her name with desperate, shrieking strength.

She did not struggle. She let the water pull her, the river tugging upon her hair, upon the rough fabric of her kimono, and pressing against her lungs. She was trapped, bound, in pain- full of peace.

The air sang out from her, her vision blurring. Anguish bloomed from her chest, making her heart pound with panic, with feral fear. She clawed at the deep world around her, attempting to break to the surface, to emerge into her own element...

An embrace closed around her, pulling her back into life, filling her lungs with sudden air. She gasped and coughed, weak with relief, frail with dizziness. Her eyes drifted, relishing in the feel of life returning to her cold skin, unaware of who held her.

Her head was held gently, cradled in an arm, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. The light of the sun was so very bright, Rin's voice so very loud in her ears, the strong arms so tight around her, constricting her limbs, pressing her cheek to hard armour. Silver hair drifted into her face, filling her with his scent.

His voice was so deep, so invading, so cold, that she felt it through her ribs. “Foolish miko, foolish onna.”

She felt tears overwhelm her, and she closed her eyes to the sight of the youkai who gleamed like a second sun.

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Closer, ever closer to the center of all pain. Close to the Taiyoukai who had caused his brother's death. And there, alone in a field of blinding colour, the little singing girl he loved.

His starving claws reached out, blurred with rage and revenge...

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The scent of death had brought him, had told him to leave his retainer, his ward and his miko behind in safety. It had told him to come alone into this smouldering chaos.

Sesshoumaru stood in the center of a fallen world, his sword of destruction bare and gleaming at his side like a moon. The village, black and crumbled, bared its wooden bones, dark fingers pointing into the open celestial.

Sesshoumaru could sense Kagura's presence, a cloying, fragrant mist that sickened and swam. It choked in his lungs, it burned his flesh; it angered him.

For in the core of her undeniably female scent there was the dark spoil of Naraku.

In a blur of wind, she came to him, her fan spread wide, dead villagers bowed around her, clutching her kimono. In her eyes there burned something rare and strange to him. Adoration, or cunning?

“Kagura,” he acknowledged, barely sparing her a glance; something had curled in his feral soul: suspicion. Something burned upon the wind.

Her smile curled.“Sesshoumaru- I will find victory tonight, for I will see you despair.”

“It will be Naraku's victory,” he told her, “for you are his.”

Kagura laughed, not falling for his insult, eyes empty, almost full of sorrow. Her wind sent his silver hair to drift. “You are also his,” she replied, “we are all his. For you have played right into his cold hands.”

His sword gleamed, bright and hungry. His eyes flooded briefly with a blinding red.

“Naraku's barrier surrounds us now,” the wind-witch said, “and it will be sufficient to trap you for a time.”

She let her fan fall, and the wind died around them; the dead fell to the earth with rotting flesh and maggot eyes. The Taiyoukai's eyes blazed, a rage blood-deep filling them with violence.

Her feather cupped her softly and rose her into the sky, her voice carrying like perfume. “Where is your child, Sesshoumaru? Where is the woman that loves you?”

A howl burned quiet, unspoken and dark in his throat.

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Kagome felt as though she could burst into laughter, into song, into tears. She caressed gently a flower upon her palm, accepted wholeheartedly from Rin, who had been concerned to the point of large, childish tears.

Jaken had scolded her foolishness, had sat wearily in the grass far away from her, had dealt with Rin. He had sent her a scalding glare.

She had nearly drowned. She had felt the pressure of the river pulse against her lungs, enough to trap her helpless limbs. And he, so cruelly, had saved her.

I am useless, she scoffed. She rubbed her hands together, crushing the bloom ruthlessly.

She whispered to the torn petals,“I am...afraid.”

Her murmur passed into silence, unheard by Rin, who had bent to smell a particular bloom, her eyes full of delight and childish wonder.

A shadow moved, red eyes full of dull bloody flame, stretching its destruction across the fragrant grass.

Kagome was frozen, stiff with fear, with panic; her lips moved desperately to find the words of her warning.

“Rin...run...RUN!”

She saw Tsusimaru's eyes glimmer, bright, lustful. His claws tore at the child's chest, his fingers digging, searching. Rin screamed, her blood blooming over the front of her kimono as her form spread broken over the grass.

Kagome was soon pinned with despair, crawling over to the child who lay whimpering, grass coarse under her fingers. Tsusimaru's feet, stained red, came into her vision. She looked up into the blinding sun, seeing his crazed and narrowed eyes, drops on blood sprinkled upon his features, which were hard with despair. “Miko,” he growled, and his blade shone brightly in his hands. It sliced her chest and her kimono, a deep gash that began from her belly.

She cried out softly, her arms closing around the child, who seemed the only thing that mattered, more precious than her pain. She cried bitterly, her tears falling crystal upon Rin's tiny and labouring body.

Rin whimpered with pain, lying in the grass upon her side, eyes glazed with an empty sigh, with a distant dream. Kagome lay beside her, her blood staining her clothes. She pressed her little hands over Kagome's deep wound, her eyes sorrowful.

“Mama,” the girl whispered and smiled, closing her eyes as her brow smoothed in death. Kagome kissed the child's face again and again, calling out her name.

Tsusimaru reached down and plucked the child's heart from her corpse as Kagome's vision began to slowly fade.

His eyes blazed into her own. “Now she will never revive,” he told her. And then, “You are quite beautiful in death.”

He smiled with some of his old cunning, but it was brief. Then he was gone, leaving her to moan and scream and weep, her arms closed about Rin, who lay shattered and incomplete, without a heart.

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Kagome floated in the nothing once again, her sorrow as deep as the well.

There was a dark man with crimson eyes, and a voice as deep as providence, deep as longing. He closed his arms about her broken body, his long twisted hair falling upon her face, curtaining the world from her eyes. She could not breathe, nor speak; she could only stare into his eyes, which were the colour of the blood pooled about her.

“Ka-go-me. Poor little miko. Broken and in pain,” he traced icy fingers over her gash upon her chest, causing her to whimper hoarsely in anguish. “You will be bound ever closer to me,” his face came close to hers, and his cool palm pressed down over her forehead and eyes. “You will be mine, and you will forget...”

Naraku's grip tightened, before she could scream. All was soon lost in a crimson haze of white and wind.

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The morning was rosy and fragrant, carrying scents mixed upon a breeze. Petals formed a soft blanket beneath her aching skull, beneath the confusion and blankness of her mind. She took a deep, shaking breath. Her lungs filled, labouring, the wounds tightening over her chest.

Who...who am I...

She could not understand.

There came memories of silver, a silver man- of warm friendships with a strange boy who would only love a shadow of her. Soon they blazed and were gone.

“I do not know who I am,” she lamented, feeling a failure. She burst into laughter, into tears, and attempted to collect the fallen pieces of herself about her, like cloth.

Nothing came.