InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Futile ❯ Oblivion's Goodbye ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Luna Rain Glimmer 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Horror / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.29.2011 | Pages: 5 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 208 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Horror / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.29.2011 | Pages: 5 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 208 | Status: Work In Progress
Part 2 of 3. I am really keying into Sesshomaru’s emotions in this chapter, and though a lot of people might not like the showcasing of his sadness, or any emotion for that matter, it’s something I wanted to do. I wanted to reveal how awful it would feel to be in such a situation, and have him make the ultimate sacrifice. He comes to an epiphany that I found fascinating to no end, and in a sense, these emotions humanize him. I’m taking a risk, I know, but it must be done.
Rated as such for sexual situations, blood/gore, and a lot of angst and poignant thoughts on life, as well as death.
I own nothing.
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“Becaus e I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me.
The Carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality"~Emily Dickinson
Revelations were never the easiest claims to accept. The epiphany of life, of every single facet that could’ve reigned dominant, came without the promise of hope. No one ever said that coming to a concrete answer would secure happiness.
Five-hundred years. That was a life well lived, a life that was young by royal youkai standards. He still had so much to discover, so much naivete to escape from, so much self-growth to follow through on. There was much to learn, so much to teach.
And yet, none of it mattered right now. For once in Sesshomaru’s life, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for his obligations. He was obligated to live, to protect his lands, his ward, and to seek an end to Naraku out of settling the personal score between them. That had been his original intentions, his motives.
Now, there was no meaning to those passionate duties that had been his life’s purpose. All of it seemed meaningless, wasted time that could’ve been well-spent somewhere else, doing anything else.
Never had he felt this way in his entire life. He was born and raised of a high pedigree, the mantra drilled into his head that he was important, and had to be important to others. Strength came, through endless lessons with his father and mother, through losing his arm, and gaining compassion towards his human ward. The ignorance that had clouded his eyes like a miring of fog was blown away by the wind he had given his heart to. She was the reason behind his change.
Nothing startled the heart more than realizing that every volition, every iron-clad will had been wrong from the very beginning.
During the trek home, Sesshomaru found himself thick in the heart of a black forest, one that was nearly devoid of light. The sunlight leaked through in patches, mainly filling the ground with shadow, drenching everything in a colorless sheet of reality. He stumbled once, and though his lack of grace should’ve surprised him, it didn’t.
He caught himself, straightened his back, and immediately fell to the soil. If there were eyes on him, either his father or mother from the youkai view of the afterlife, he cared not if he disgraced them with his affliction. Even if there had been a sudden barrage of every enemy he had created over the expanse of his life, circled around him in a sneering loop of derision, he would’ve let them do anything to him.
Sorrow manipulated his heart, and he let his new title be that of a puppet. Misery covered him like a cowl, obscuring all thoughts of music, of serenity. There was so much that was wrong, so much that he was completely unable to fix; and it killed him.
The once Demon Lord, the one that once coveted the Tetsusaiga that could fell one-hundred demon with one swing, was unable to save the love of his life. It was irony, for if he could save a human girl from the wounds inflicted by wolves, there should’ve been no reason why he couldn’t save Kagura as well.
It wasn’t the way that it was supposed to work. Yet, it was the way it meant to be. He was meant to love passionately, briefly, and feel the all encompassing sadness of a falling star. The glittering entity had once hung, brilliantly in the velvet firmament with the notion that it was invincible. Then, little by little, it began collapsing into itself, and it imploded, vanishing into bleak, black nothingness.
There was never anything that he could think of that would’ve taught him this lesson: that he, Sesshomaru, was utterly powerless. His plans were for naught, his desire was short-lived, and any semblance of hope was futile. He had run a fool’s errand, and he had come up empty in the soul, not of the hand.
Freedom would be hers, but the cost was that they would never be together. Never would he know the scent of her hair as she slept, the sweet aroma of the wind-tossed seas. Never again would he know the taste of her skin as she climaxed, the salty-sweet flavor he craved like fine wine. And never would he be able to meet with her, or fuel the hope that he could free her without consequence or price. Why he thought there had been a way was a clear indication that he was an asinine, arrogant soul. All things had a price; the cost was eternal, endless death.
Sesshomaru couldn’t help but wonder if this was how his father had felt, when he tore across the lands to save his human lover and child. He was bleeding from grave wounds, and donned nothing more than a shamble of his demure mannerisms, and yet he ran. He ran to his love, knowing that it was at the cost of his own life.
Why he was comparing himself to his Lord father was beyond him, for he wasn’t worthy enough to stand in the silhouette of that honorable youkai, much less correlate himself to him. Had he done things differently, he would never have known avarice, the snake that once threatened to devour him whole with jealousy. Never would he have known a grudge, and he would’ve treated his younger sibling, no matter the stained blood, with the respect that he deserved. The people he stepped on, the youkai he criticized, the beings that he had so despised were nothing more than reflections of the things he hated most about himself.
And now, in the fading twilight, he knew the soul-deep, shattering truth: that he, Sesshomaru, was nothing but a husk of pent-up pride, endless notions, and at the very last, a futile plan.
Had anyone been in the forest, or of able-body to witness the Lord’s breakdown, not even the cruelest enemy he had made would’ve approached him. They would’ve been frozen to their spot with heart-stopping paralysis, with the shocking revelation that this was the Lord that was their enemy; he was utterly unrecognizable.
The flowing, chrome river of his hair fell around his body, like bands of unraveled silver thread, and instead of it being beautiful, it appeared as if was no more than a poorly made shield to hide his body from the world. The spotless attire he clothed himself in was now nothing more than a blood-spattered rorschach of a garment, and it literally looked like he had clawed his way from Hell, claw and fang, until he collapsed under the black canopy of the trees. The Mokomoko appendage that wound around his right shoulder was now entirely unbound, and it fell at his feet in a heap of scarlet-splattered fur, pronouncing for all those that knew the youkai code, as a symbol of abysmal distress.
The dagger fell from his left sleeve, and it clattered to the forest floor soundlessly. Sesshomaru resisted the urge to hurl it into the shadows, but he doubted that he could’ve lifted his head, even if his Lord father were before him, much less pick up an object right then.
He was a being abject of all emotions, aside from endless grief.
His eyes blinked, and they blurred with unshed, hot tears. Not caring who knew, what they stood for, or what it meant for his “perfect” image, he wept. It began silently until he could take it no longer. His mouth opened, and he gasped and took in deep lungfuls of air, almost as if he was afraid he would lose his ability to breathe entirely. The sobs that shook his body made him feel as if he was stranded on a homeland in the middle of an earth-razing earthquake. The gesture hurt his body, and the onslaught of emotions stole his breath, his rationale, and all ability to think clearly.
There was no other way. If there had been, it would’ve made itself known to him. This was destined, fated, written in the stars in a red pattern of constellations.
His claws dug into the earth, and he tore bits of grass and soil with the clenching of his fists. This was a curse it seemed, on his family blood-line. His father had known his mother, and she had died when he had barely been one-hundred years of age. His father had mated the human princess, and his body had been subjected to the flames of Hell, the fire that was so eager to consume and replace one fiery passion for the next. His own brother had been trapped to a tree, betrayed and played by his first love, and now...it was his turn.
It was a warped twist of fate, this bewitchment on his head. How he longed to smash what the Fate’s declared to be truth, and if he could, he would leave their celestial palace in utter ruin. The diamond pillars would fall, shatter, and he would steal his beloved’s soul from beyond the grave.
It was impossible though, a word he finally knew the meaning of. Reality had never been colder to him, or more distancing from the world that he had known for five-hundred years.
Yellow, sickly eyes narrowed, and he finally raised his head. There was no one around, and the sound of bird-song was distant. Twilight had fled, and blackness surrounded him, in a bleak dance of silhouettes. The yearning to sleep, to close his eyes was the most tempting offer. Sleep offered release from a world that gave him an awful answer, and he longed for that, more than anything.
If things looked better in the morning, brighter with the dawn’s first light, he wished to experience that.
Tired, blood-shot eyes slipped closed, and his body went limp immediately.
The dagger glittered in the slice of moonlight that slithered through the trees, the only light in that part of the forest. Even in dreams, in the waking world, Sesshomaru couldn’t escape his oath.
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The blessing was in a black, dreamless sleep. No trace of nightmare touched his psyche with terrible visions that night, or early in the morning. For that, he was thankful. He thought he would surely lose his sanity if he was to experience such terror once more.
Sesshomaru blinked several times, and he was met with a glittering forest. The sunlight streamed through the tree branches, setting everything in a gilded glow. Everything was beautiful, but he knew that it was a rare beauty. This light showed him that this was a simple loveliness, without the taint of thought or intentions; it came from nature, and it would be immortal.
Never had he conceived such a poignant, morbid thought before.
Something flashed to his left, and he reached for it with his left hand, his reflexes gripping the hilt of the blade before he knew what he was doing. He was nearly sick, but he gripped it tighter, almost as if he were mocking his earlier sadness and misery. Upon this small action, the action that meant everything, he knew that he would rise out of the pit he had lain in.
It was just a matter of getting up, rising, and acting on what needed to be done. Logic defeated misery, every time.
Sesshomaru placed the dagger in his sleeve, and gently, eased himself from his crouched position on the ground. He looked at the mess of his clothing and felt strands of his hair sticking to his face, obscuring his vision. This wouldn’t do.
Gingerly--a word that had never described the Demon Lord-- Sesshomaru brushed the hair from his eyes. His hands got tangled halfway through in the slick disaster of tresses, and he nearly tore out chunks from his frustration. No, not frustration. Rage.
Anger consumed him then, and he snarled, yearning for every bestial urge to come forth and surge over him, like a thunderous wave of the ocean.
Before he knew what was happening, the trees that surrounded him in a wide, interloping half-circle were obliterated to little more than splinters. When that wasn’t enough, roots were tore from the ground, smashed, and any hope of there being a re-growth was based on wishful thinking alone. Stones shuddered from the earth, and they were picked up, only to fall once more, like a bitter hail from the heavens.
Any animal that was caught in this unfortunate crossfire was immediately killed, and the sight of blood lined Sesshomaru’s vision. Bird’s shrieked and took the skies, frantically fleeing from the being that disrupted the peace of the morning.
From his years of suppression, of thinking that withholding memories, emotions, and any thought of pain was weakness, the world now knew of this ultimate, visceral release. The aftermath was a horrific, painful sight for any phantom witness to perceive.
Snarls tore from his mouth, the anger he had always kept at bay now enveloping him with the skill of a lover.
Lover...his mind denied that so heavily, that his head jerked up, the head that now housed crimson-filled oculars, and pointed fangs.
Lover. Love. The woman he loved...
The color leached from his eyes, his fangs retracted, and he looked to his hands. They were coated with splinters, drying blood, and bits of foliage. This was evidence of how his life had collapsed around him, turning from an iron pedestal into sand overnight.
All from the truth. All from the bitter, bitter truth.
Sesshomaru took one step forward, and then another. He longed to sink to his knees, to scream his vocal chords ragged, and simply, to live with the woman who changed him.
‘Why must the one who changed me be subjected to death?’ Could he make the trek back to Death’s doorway once more, and beg that she live, in exchange for his life? Would a barter of souls be what Death desired, more than the last breath of his beloved?
He had almost took off, fleeing onto the path like a wraith. He had almost found hope, buried though it was under the destruction of any ill-conceived faith. Almost.
The voice was loud and clear, so pronounced that it startled him in his fragile state. He gasped aloud, and his eyes shot open with another somber cognition. “There can be no trade. Use the suffering of the blade for a moment of agony, or resign her to a lifetime of ceaseless servitude.”
The ghost of option flickered like the drenched wick of a candle, and it was diminished entirely by the breath of Death. There were beings more powerful than him, and he could do nothing but kneel before them.
Almost did he do just that. He almost fell to his knees, once more weeping like a newborn who needed its mother. Almost. But he didn’t. The pieces of what he once considered pride were at his feet, like fragments of spider-webbed glass, and he chose to walk through it.
Sesshomaru took one step, then another, and then walking became something automatic. He walked not with his usual air of dignity, but bereft of any semblance of certainty. He walked like a man possessed with an internal sadness that knew no end, a man that only knew the auto-pilot functions of moving forward, step by painful step.
He knew precisely where he was going, though he truly wasn’t aware of it. He was on his lands in a private glade that would take him to a thundering waterfall, one that could be used for cleansing waters, for bathing and meditation. Once, weeks after his father had passed, he had meditated under the falls for three days straight, and afterwards, he found a clarity and high that he never thought he would come down from.
He had been wrong once more.
Sesshomaru found that he was halfway waded into the shores before he realized he was still fully dressed. Mechanically, he shed the garments and simply threw his clothes on the rocks, not caring about folding them, about propriety. He was too far gone to care about what was deemed proper.
However, he did make sure that the dagger was safely concealed in his clothing. Nothing would touch it without getting surpassed by the overwhelming aura of demise, but he wanted to be careful. Only he could deliver the ultimate freedom.
Sesshomaru walked into the water, and the roar of the falls never seemed so loud to him before. The water was cold, but he hardly noticed. He kept his eyes straight ahead, and they blinked every so often with the glare of the sunlight on the surface. Had there been a moon, he wouldn’t have blinked at all.
Without a moment to collect himself, he submersed himself in the water. The chill shocked his senses, sending him to a state of full alertness. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and in the blackness, it felt as if he were floating in an unsuspended state, a state he wished he could remain in, for all of time.
His eyes opened, and he crashed to the surface, gasping, breathing, searching the area for something unspoken, for something unknown. There was no one around, and for once in his years, he felt the gulf of solitude, the loneliness that reminded every seemingly invincible creature of their true size. He felt so small all of a sudden, and it terrified him.
Somehow, despite what fears his mind projected, his spine straightened, almost in a challenge to this invisible enemy that dared claim he was unworthy, the antagonist that threatened his own self-worth. He had been demolished by his own emotions, the emotions that he had kept deep within, pent-up, until they had surged forward in a rush that no being could’ve ever hoped to contain. It was such a realization, such a reality check, that he surely thought he would’ve been destroyed by the onslaught of such claims.
If he was here, if he could feel the chill of the water, the ebbing warmth of the sunlight, as well as the still-there pang of grief, he knew he had survived. He was alive, not in the same manner, but in a way that guaranteed he was taking nothing for granted. His was not an ignorant existence any longer, but one that had looked reality in the face, accepted it, and chose to move forward from it.
Chagrin filled his mouth, and it rose with the intensity of illness. He held it back, and it abated as quickly as it had come. Shame threatened his body with self-doubt, with self-criticism, but he held that back as well. There was no time to succumb to the depths of inner-derision. What mattered now, was this sunlight, this day, and the thought of what he had to do. He had broken down and fell into the embrace of sorrow in its entirety, but now he found the strength to ease out of those cold, pulsing arms. Life awaited, and the promise of the one he would soon hold warmed him.
Sesshomaru bowed his head, and he washed his hair thoroughly, cherishing the feeling of the chemicals in the stream as they cleansed the impurities from his body. This was a baptism of sorts, a self-truth that erased every foul action he had ever done in his life.
He emerged from the stream a new being, a new spirit that was prepared for what he had to do. Internally, his heart beat with the truth that killed him. Yet, he continued walking, knowing just what had to be done. It would be so beautiful, yet so terrible.
The sunlight glittered on the surface of the water, as if urging him on with the reminder of time itself. The pendulum would be the scarlet of twilight, and by that time, the deed would be done.
Sesshomaru dressed quickly in his hakamas, ankle-high boots and his kimono. He reached for his armor and literally threw it into the water, the sound of it sinking and bubbling music to his ears. There was no need to shield himself from anything. He grasped the hilts of both the Tenseiga, a sword he was now humbled to have, as well as Tokijin, and pictured them sailing through the air, whistling by unseen and unheard, deep into the castle chambers of his home. He had no need for them anymore, no need for weapons, or for ceaseless decoration.
If he wanted, he could shred the red chrysanthemum crest from his shoulders, indicating his abdication from the pettiness of titles, of vanity, and of pride. There was no need for it anymore, no need at all. However, he wanted to look his best for the one he only had a short time with.
There was no time to return, to speak of what happened. What he knew was that time was slipping away, every second and moment bleeding into the next, becoming an endless torrent of ever-moving lights and shapes. It was up to him to reach forward in those sounds and illuminations and claim this day for his own. For, afterwards, nothing would be the same.
He regretted not being able to share this moment with his human ward, with the little Rin that would be taken care of like royalty. A feeling of endless peace filled his spirit when a premonition flitted over his eyes: the picture of Rins’ smile as she looked upon the whole of Japan, as a human bride. She would marry the one known as Kohaku, and her life would be filled with mirth and the laughter of her many children. She would speak of the legend of the strong Demon Lord that took her in, and brought her back to life. Never would she know horror, ever again. His legacy had reassured that, along with the association she had with him. That would protect her for the rest of her days. There was no more regret, only revelation.
His once stone-cold lips turned to the skies in a smile, a true smile that was unafraid of his duty. The only thing that could’ve made him happiest was one person, one being that would be at his side very soon.
Sesshomaru reached into the folds of his kimono and retrieved a long, white feather. Gently, as if caressing her back, he brushed the stem of the feather with his claws. He felt an electric jolt through his skin, almost as if something were stroking his inner-most soul right then. She had used this enchanted object as a means to communicate with him, if he should ever be in want of her company. How foolish he was to think that he would never not need her company.
‘Kagura,’ he spoke ‘are you able to be with me, all day?’ It was a stretch to think that she could get away with it, but she had done it before. Naraku seemed to have turned a blind eye to her, but Sesshomaru had known better. Deep down, Naraku always knew what was going on with his counterparts, for they were an extra extension of himself. Her “Master” was letting her get away with this, for he thought that it was nothing more than a passing phase, a fever of the flesh and a fancy just as superficial. There was never a statement more false than that.
He heard a chuckle, and it set his skin on fire. ‘Yes. Look behind you.’ Sesshomaru opened his eyes, heard the rushing of the tailwinds of a tornado, and was met with his love.
She was crouched before him in recovery of her flight, and with the slightly disheveled kimono, ruffled hair, and an inquiring expression, never had she looked more beautiful. Kagura stood, placed her feather securely on her hair, and smiled at him. It wasn’t the playful half-smirk her mouth was set in when she had something interesting on her mind. It was the smile that was reserved solely for himself, purely for his own eyes. Once, when they were laying in the open sunlight, she told him so softly that she had never known a true smile, before she had one to smile for.
Every time she did that, the smallest of gestures, he found that his pulse roared to life, as if he had shifting magma beneath his veins. She brought him to life, shook him from what he had so foolishly become, and stripped away anything foul about his person; for the time that she shared with him, he had become something worthy of Life itself.
The thought rattled him, for he knew the magnitude of their passion now. It was a roaring blaze, one that would have endless fodder on it for the remainder of the day. It was up to him to ignite it, right then.
Sesshomaru walked towards her, and before they had the chance to exchange verbal pleasantries, they found themselves in rapt of one another’s lips. His tongue delved into her mouth, she moaned and fell against him, and he knew true peace. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he gripped her shoulders, gently caressing the fabric of her kimono with his claws. This was his beloved, the one he would free.
Such thoughts, for the moment, he could forget. He lost himself in the abyss of her kiss, in the sounds that she expressed, for his ears only, and he was swallowed by a euphoria that knew no end. She was the one who was worth that entire endeavor, the being that he wouldn’t forsake for anything. If he had to, he would do it all over again, just for him to end up right in this spot, kissing her for all the world to see.
His lips trailed from her mouth, down her neck. She moaned aloud in her internal ecstasy, and she gripped his back, bracing herself if her knees should buckle.
“You’re so forward this morning...what’s come over you?” He sensed the teasing, sultry tone in her voice, and it made him want her even more.
Gently, but rough enough to where she would enjoy it, he flipped her on her back. His hands rested on the grass, and their eyes connected in a clash of the whirlwind of snow and the lapping heat of flames. In her eyes, he saw what was reflected in his own: a feverish, playful passion. It surprised her he knew, for he normally would’ve greeted her, and then claimed her mouth. She sensed something was amiss, but she had no idea how it would later affect her.
“There’s no sense in propriety when the object of your desire wants you just as deeply.” A slight flush came to her cheeks, and he found that the color was most becoming on her. It reminded him of the sprinkling of rose petals in the midsts of a freshly fallen snow drift, a lovely contradiction.
Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and he knew that she was happier than she had been since he last saw her. It was sometimes impossible for her to come and see him, and late in the evenings, they communicated with her feathers, and it was all he could do to not seek every crevice and mountain overpass until he annihilated Naraku, just for her. Forget what Naraku did to him, for it was of no consequence; it was what Naraku continued to do to a being he gave life to, and then used for his own selfish gain that deserved comeuppance.
She reached up, and touched her mouth to his with a hint of innocence, almost as if she had never tasted his lips before. Her tongue gently eased his mouth open, and in the expanse of a few moments, they knew one another’s mouths. Their eyes closed, and they gave in to the desire they had for one another, one that went far beyond the level of their physical beauty and attraction.
In each other, they saw kindred spirits, spirits that the world couldn’t understand even if they had the rest of eternity. In each other, their facades that they were forced to show the world splintered, and the sound was the symphony of the angels, a euphony that knew no literal end. The joining of their hands, of their bodies made them feel complete, as if they were a split entity coming together once more, in the literal and mental coupling. It was a holy sanction, a unification that went far beyond making love.
Clothes were shed, every portion of skin was celebrated, and they both cried out to the heavens from their release, a climax that was the closest they had ever felt to touching the Divine. They touched, and the mere brush of their hands ignited a feeling so surreal, no jumbling of words could have even began to express the depth, the profound effect it had on both parties. It was unity, in the truest sense of the world.
After this time, Kagura cried once more. He lapped away her tears, took her in his arms, and traced the mark that she was so ashamed of, the brand that displayed that she was owned. Soon, she would be owned by nothing more than the wind itself.
She stirred, wiped at her eyes, and glanced up at him in consternation. “Why do you deal with me when I’m like this? Surely you think I’m pathetic.” His expression was filled with such alarm, she reeled back a few centimeters.
The moment she leaned back, he gripped her shoulders in both of his hands. “Never, not even in the beginning of our tryst, would I label you as pathetic. You are very worthy of me.” Her eyes opened wide, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In his words, he was revealing his love for her, his utter adoration for a being that enflamed his heart with the fire of life.
Kagura’s head tilted to the left, almost as if she were seeing something in his face that she had never noticed before. Hesitantly, she reached forward and brushed the hair back from his face. Her gaze pierced right through him with an inquiry, and nothing was lost in her ruby-red intellect.
Finally, she spoke. “Sesshomaru...your expressions are so different. Your eyes...and your voice...” she trailed off, almost as if she realized she was speaking nonsense. “Never mind.”
Her gaze drifted towards the ground, but he gently tilted her chin up. He smiled to her, and the gesture must’ve been so unique, so enchanting, that she inhaled sharply. Color rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled, whether with unshed tears or with the inner-light of revelation, he knew not. What he did know, was that she was aware that this smile, the one that he had created and unearthed, was now only for her. In this sacred hour, he was showing her everything he had become, in its entirety. This new being could only be shared with one person, lest it be spoiled.
That might’ve been a frantic thought, one that was created from the inevitability of what had to occur later, what needed to be done. For now though, he banished those thoughts from his mind.
“This smile is entirely for you. It is unprecedented by nothing else, aside from your existence.” He raised his hands, and gently caressed her hair, showing her that what he held in his hands was precious enough to be treated in such a manner. She was precious, for all eternity. She had to leave this world knowing that she was loved, held dear beyond the truest definition of the world.
Kagura looked at him almost as if she could sense something was deeply wrong with his behavior. She looked at him as if she saw a stranger instead of the Demon Lord whom she shared a mutual, irrefutable bond with. Then, her suspicion shattered in a myriad of jubilation, revealing nothing but happiness in her eyes.
“I love it.” Her cheeks instantly colored, and he felt a laugh slip through his lips. She started once more, but instantly relaxed. She arched her neck, almost as if she were a swan that was preparing for a dive. She basked in his laughter the way a sun-deprived child favored the rays of the sunlight, and the gesture was so beautiful, so accepting of who he was, that he found himself smiling even more. Why he had rarely done it before was beyond his understanding. “Your smile I mean. And your laugh. It’s nice.”
He felt himself chuckling once more, and the sound made Kagura open her eyes. She blinked, and he knew scarlet eternity. “I am thankful you find the sudden change alluring.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and then flickered to her eyes. “Tell me...what do you love?”
She gripped his back with her hands, and her legs wound around his hips. He eased her onto her back, and he kissed a path from her stomach, all the way to her lips. Their mouths met, and he knew peace, wondrous peace that canceled out all thought of an end. “Tell me, Kagura.”
Their faces hovered close enough to one another, close enough to where they would be able to hear the words forming before they were spoken. Sesshomaru brushed the bridge of his nose above her own, and her eyes sparkled with a bliss that knew no confinements, no such word as boundary.
The word came out as a gasp, but it was un-retrievable. “You.” Her eyes focused on his, and in them, he saw the solid, concrete truth. “It’s only ever been you.”
This was the moment where affirmation had its say, where the bridges of what duty meant to him were destroyed. He wasn’t obligated to tell her, but he chose to. He only ever spoke the truth.
“If I knew love before you, it was not love at all. It is you, and no other.” Tears sparkled from her eyes, and their kiss sealed the end to one sadness, opening up another world of melancholy.
Soon. He would tell her soon.
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The day had been beautiful, in every sense of the word. The pair had had the chance to do activities that they had not the time, nor the means to do before. It was as if Time itself had bestowed upon them the gift of a full day, a day of perfect weather.
Sesshomaru walked hand in hand with Kagura through the forests, and they pretended that the world was their own. He mentioned to her that if he had created the world, that he would want for there to be a way to bathe her in sunlight, for never had she looked more beautiful than when the sun shone down on her. Her eyes met the ground, and then his eyes. She was still shy in an innocent way, but her soul was as old as his was, if not as experienced. In her life, he knew that she had not known more than endless injustice, tyranny, and slaughter that was on her hands. This day erased all of her past hurt, the punishments, and replaced them with a day all her own, a day that she could share with him.
The places that they ventured to were surreal and secluded with barely any wildlife roaming about. It was unusual, for it was the time of year where everything was in a flurry of activity, eager and energetic with their species. It only added to the mystical feeling that for the day, they were in charge of the world, and that it was their secret place, theirs for the taking.
Silence remained unbroken, but never was it tense. It was peaceful, a calm that had no underlying feelings of swallowed words. When it was broken, the words were without shame, for there was no need for embarrassment for confessions. Kagura told him about what she remembered from the first time she existed, up until right then. She spoke of the revulsion she held for her own life, and how she would love nothing more than to kill Naraku. At first, panic lined his heart, for he knew that somewhere in a shadow-drenched room, Naraku was keeping an ear open for any back-talk against him. Then, the feeling of premonition he had experienced earlier that day came over him, and he knew that there would be no pain for her, by Naraku’s hand, today.
He comforted her, and then she asked him about himself. So, he told her. He told her about his father and the ideals he held to be true, as well as what he could recall of his mother. Also, he told her that he didn’t truly hate Inuyasha. He hated the way that he had once made him feel, so powerless and unworthy of what his father wanted out of him. Then, he told her about the peace he made with that, and he saw admiration in her eyes. He spoke also about Rin and about how she had come to play a large role in his life. He told her how she was getting taller and that she absorbed all the information that he told her, as well how well she was doing with the lessons Jaken instilled upon her.
Their lives were discussed, until there was nothing left to say. When there wasn’t, silence reigned dominant, and it was peaceful, a soothing tranquility that was nothing short of perfect. The day itself was perfection, Sesshomaru knew. It was a time that all beings dreamed about, a day that knew no suffering, no taint of everlasting commitments for titles, or servitude. It was a day without the affliction most mortals carried with them, and every youkai as well.
He was blessed, ever so blessed.
Two hours before sunset, he knew that it was time to tell her. He needed to speak of what he had been doing, the mission that he had completed, aside from the most important aspect of his quest.
They were leaning against one another on the ledge of a boulder, one that showed a picturesque view of the countryside. Trees, villages, and deep rivulets of streams were carved into the land, and it looked so flawless, Sesshomaru thought it a portrait for a brief moment.
He turned to her, and the words came out. He told her how he wanted nothing more than for her to be free, nothing more than for her to live without the fear of endless pain. She deserved so much more than that, so much more than for her life to be lived in vain in such a regard.
The crimson eyes he so adored flared with such an intensity, he wondered if she would strike him, weep, or listen to every word he said. She simply listened, and for that, he was thankful.
Also, he told her about all of the travels he had gone on, all of the journeys to find the answer to his question, the question that had become his sole right. Her eyes opened wide, first in awe, then in admiration, and then finally, in barely suppressed sadness. He could sense what she was thinking, down to the last strand of a thought. She was deeply humbled and honored that he went to such lengths just for her, and to that, he nodded to her, affirming what words never could: that she was worth every effort. At the end of that elation however, was a horror that knew no words: that he didn’t find his answer, or that he did, and it was the most tragic thing that could’ve ever existed.
Then, he spoke of his trip to Death. He told her about the battles, the staircase made of bone, as well as the awful way that the spirits had yearned for nothing more than his life. Then, he described Death, from her dress made of soot and gems, to the mask, to the way he literally kneeled before her in his pleading.
All sound seemed to stop in their world then, and even the noise of their breathing halted, as if they had ceased to breathe entirely.
Kagura gripped his hand, and the trepidation in her eyes was greater than her hope. He spoke of what happened, the answer to the question that they had dared to ask before, with such naivete towards what was real, what they had both known all along: that the only way for her to be free, was to die.
He showed her the dagger, and he set it several feet away from them. He glared at it with such ferocity, that if he had the ability, it would have burst into flames with the effort.
“Upon this weapon, you will die swiftly, without the torment your Master will inflict upon you.” He wished to say more, but he couldn’t. His voice was frozen beneath the chill of reality, hidden far beneath the cold surface of the fiber of truth itself.
Kagura turned from the weapon, and met his eyes. In her eyes was endless gratitude, something that he knew she couldn’t place into words. No one, not even the most skilled tongue, could’ve crafted a sentence, a paragraph, or a monologue that declared the appreciation she felt for him. It was boundless, without any sense of an end. Then, she saw the way sorrow came over his features, etching them in the chiseled marks of remorse.
He bowed his head, and she gripped him to her chest, comforting him now. The tears that he thought he ran out of came once again, and he knew that a being simply couldn’t run out of tears, in the same way that he couldn’t run out of love for her; it was impossible.
They gripped each other fiercely, and once his episode was over, they rocked each other, memorizing the feeling of having one another in their arms. This was a sensation he would recall, a feeling he would never grow tired of.
Finally, Kagura spoke. “I would rather have you kill me, for you already hold my life. It makes sense if you’re the one to take it away.” She smiled up at him, but it was no weak, half-faltering grin. This was a smile that was forged through endless hardship, through the past doubt of the thought that she would never smile again, much less feel happy again. This was the smile of someone who was eager to be free, of someone who was about to experience something she had only dreamed about. Hers would be an eternal dream.
They both looked to the horizon at the same time, and both felt a piercing ache hit their chest. It was coming on sunset, and both knew that was when one life would be taken, at the expense of freedom.
Still, Kagura smiled, and it was more brilliant, more alive than he had ever seen her. She stood up, held out her hand, and helped him to his feet. He had no time to feel revulsion for the fact that she had to be strong for him, and not the other way around. With the way she looked at him, in a glance that showed that she didn’t mind in the least, and loved him all the more for feeling so deeply, he knew peace.
Quickly, he picked up the dagger, and placed it in his left sleeve pocket. The hour had arrived, the pendulum swung, and one of them would know a conclusion.
He gripped Kagura in his arms, and took to the skies on his mist. She buried her face deep into his neck, and placed her hand over his heart. She wished to know what it felt like, minutes before she left this world, to feel his heart. She owned it, forevermore.
“I want for you to be comfortable. Tell me where you wish to lay.” Kagura nodded and looked down at the orange-bathed lands. The entirety of the countryside was washed over in an ochre hue, cloaked in the rising of the shadows. Darkness would claim the both of them, very soon.
“There. I want it to be there.” She pointed towards an empty glade, one that was completely surrounded by trees on all sides. It looked like a sphere had been cut out of the forest, merely for this place of a peaceful, bloody passing to be possible. It was the way the Fate’s had intended it, the way that it was meant to be.
The thought filled him with so much consternation, so much endless rage that he nearly took off in the other direction. He entertained the briefest fancy of taking her to the ends of the earth and fighting off whatever dared threaten the both of them. That’s what made it a fantasy however: it would never happen, for he wouldn’t let it.
Softly, he landed in the grass. She gripped him fiercely, feverishly, and he clasped her body to his as if it were the only thing that supported his entire being. Then, he released her.
Kagura landed on her feet, and she stood on her toes to kiss him. They gripped one another, their mouths met, and the kiss shared between the both of them was the most passionate, and brief feeling they had ever felt. It was lightning, the flare of embers, and the endless torrent of falling stars.
She smiled at him, and then she danced. The wind picked her up, and she twirled around on the breeze, owning her element, becoming one with the dance. She turned up her hands, threw her arms out, and performed a pirouette in mid-air. Never before had she appeared so mystical, nor was the truth of her existence more pronounced than right then. Hers was a beauty that needed to last, that needed to be etched in the tablets of immortality.
The smile on her lips was genuine as she landed on the grass, her back to the ground. Her face was turned to the stars, and she was more than ready to greet Death, like the ever-constant companion it played in the whole of life.
The blade weighed down on his arm as if he had wrapped steel around his forearm, and he knew that it was merely his subconscious creating the cumbersome weight. He would use it for its intended purpose, and the thought hurt him more than he could’ve ever expressed.
He made his way over to her and when he was several feet away, bowed before her, as if she were a Queen, a Lady, someone worthy of far more than she gained in this life. In this instant of utter decorum, he gave her the respect and appreciation she was more than deserving of.
When he lifted his head, she was still smiling. Tears were shining in her eyes, but he knew that they were not happy tears, nor tears of a broken heart. They were bittersweet tears, tears that knew that this had been destined all along, in the doom of their passion. It was fated from the start of their meetings, from the beginning of their lives even. There was nothing to be done about it, which was the sad part. The wondrous part, was that it happened.
Sesshomaru revealed the blade, and in the faint, twinkling light of the hidden stars, it gleamed with an inner-strength. It wanted her life, and his hand would claim it. His hand shook the entire time he wrapped his arm around her back, and as Kagura made her kimono slide to her hips, the tip of the dagger touched her skin. It was as if the weapon had a mind of its own, and it yearned for nothing more than to slip in-between her flesh, to the bone, wounding her gravely.
‘No.’ He would control it, and nothing more. Sesshomaru tussled with the ability of the sword, and the essence of the weapon threatened to overpower him more than once. He felt the smallest trickle of blood escape one ear, and Kagura started when she saw this. In the concentrated set of his eyes, he revealed that he was controlling the blade. He wanted to be the one to end her life, and not the possessed weapon. Tears rolled from her eyes, and she opened her arms wide, as if embracing the acceptance that would be her reality.
The spirit abated, the pair drew a breath, and the knife slipped through Kagura’s back, and with applied pressure, came out the part of her chest where her heart would beat, had she an organ. She exhaled sharply, and he knew that to his utter despair, he had to push the blade in deeper to kill her fully.
His vision swam, his heart beat roared in his ears, and all the while, Kagura looked up at him. Her lips parted, and she began to say something. “Your armor... you removed it, for me.” She slumped forward in her pain, but she wasn’t through living yet. “Please...do it. Set me free.”
Free. That’s what this was for: her freedom. She would still exist in everything he saw, in the lessons he learned from her, and in the way that she had captivated his heart for the rest of his life. She just wouldn’t be beside him, which was the hardest part.
He pushed the blade in as far as it could go, a cry was heard, and his love fell limp in his arms. She took several deep breaths, gasped with a faint, wet noise, and was suddenly still. Kagura was dead, completely free.
Somewhere, he knew that Naraku sensed this as well, and would send out his minions to find the body. That would never happen, for there would be nothing left to find. Come the dawn, she would be gone, glittering like the bands of sunlight he wished to bathe her in. She would become the wind, blow the taint of the land away, and give all life the breath that it craved.
Gently, he eased the blade out of her chest, calmly set it to the right, and cradled her to his body. Whimpers left his mouth, but he was completely out of tears, out of ways to express his sadness. There were no words for his grief, for the emptiness of what his existence had now become. All variations of syllables were lost on the black waves of his subconscious, a place where he wished he could scream, wished he could cry, wished he could destroy, merely to feel. For, all he felt was the soothing ache of what oblivion promised. His farewell was empty, his plea was hollow, and nothingness would encompass his life, like a metal cocoon that wished to show him endless agony for the remainder of his endless days.
Endless days, endless time. The pendulum would swing, severing his days in half again and again, the sunrise would bleed, the stars would taunt him, and any thought of mercy, or miracles would vanish when he conceived them.
Carefully, he lay with Kagura down on the grass. The emotion sent forth a flurry of dust into the sky, and it seemed to wink at him, taunting him with promises of light, of a life with light in it. That was impossible, for it just wouldn’t be.
The yellow glow of fireflies came, as did his ability to feel. He felt like he had never felt before, and it made him moan aloud. The body in his arms was still warm, but just barely. Soon, it would be cold, and there would be nothing left. In his fancy, in his frantic and fragile state of mind, Sesshomaru considered building a fire, if only to warm her up for the rest of the night, up until she would indubitably vanish.
The light of the fireflies danced around him in a dizzying array of yellow light, reminding him of sunlight, of his lover’s banter on how he wished to bathe Kagura with it. He blinked many times, but his vision remained spotty, blurred around the edges. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to sleep, for that meant that the body in his arms would disappear, dispersing into wherever Death claimed bodies.
His heart began to beat rapidly, as if he were at the peak of making love, and he voiced his discomfort in a low moan, a sound that was pitiful to his own ears. He took a few deep breaths, but that didn’t help the sensation. It felt as if his heart were growing in his chest, growing to gargantuan proportions, and because of it, his breath was stolen as compensation.
Stolen. Compensation. Everything had a price. Nothing was free, nothing.
The thought angered him, and his breath was stolen once more. His vision danced, spotting over in a mixture of yellow and black dots. Never had his eyelids been so heavy in all of his life, and his resistance halted.
His chest squeezed, and he took in air sharply. Every nerve in his body felt as if he was on fire, but the frame itself appeared weightless.
Weightless...he liked this feeling.
Then, he knew what was happening: a blessing was occurring, one he was more than willing to face.
With a smile, he closed his eyes for the final time. Oblivion greeted him, memory engulfed him, and he knew no more pain.
The fireflies twinkled, and two of the insects flew away, dancing and swaying into the night.
Converting /tmp/phpvtEl9e to /dev/stdout
Rated as such for sexual situations, blood/gore, and a lot of angst and poignant thoughts on life, as well as death.
I own nothing.
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“Becaus e I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me.
The Carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality"~Emily Dickinson
Revelations were never the easiest claims to accept. The epiphany of life, of every single facet that could’ve reigned dominant, came without the promise of hope. No one ever said that coming to a concrete answer would secure happiness.
Five-hundred years. That was a life well lived, a life that was young by royal youkai standards. He still had so much to discover, so much naivete to escape from, so much self-growth to follow through on. There was much to learn, so much to teach.
And yet, none of it mattered right now. For once in Sesshomaru’s life, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for his obligations. He was obligated to live, to protect his lands, his ward, and to seek an end to Naraku out of settling the personal score between them. That had been his original intentions, his motives.
Now, there was no meaning to those passionate duties that had been his life’s purpose. All of it seemed meaningless, wasted time that could’ve been well-spent somewhere else, doing anything else.
Never had he felt this way in his entire life. He was born and raised of a high pedigree, the mantra drilled into his head that he was important, and had to be important to others. Strength came, through endless lessons with his father and mother, through losing his arm, and gaining compassion towards his human ward. The ignorance that had clouded his eyes like a miring of fog was blown away by the wind he had given his heart to. She was the reason behind his change.
Nothing startled the heart more than realizing that every volition, every iron-clad will had been wrong from the very beginning.
During the trek home, Sesshomaru found himself thick in the heart of a black forest, one that was nearly devoid of light. The sunlight leaked through in patches, mainly filling the ground with shadow, drenching everything in a colorless sheet of reality. He stumbled once, and though his lack of grace should’ve surprised him, it didn’t.
He caught himself, straightened his back, and immediately fell to the soil. If there were eyes on him, either his father or mother from the youkai view of the afterlife, he cared not if he disgraced them with his affliction. Even if there had been a sudden barrage of every enemy he had created over the expanse of his life, circled around him in a sneering loop of derision, he would’ve let them do anything to him.
Sorrow manipulated his heart, and he let his new title be that of a puppet. Misery covered him like a cowl, obscuring all thoughts of music, of serenity. There was so much that was wrong, so much that he was completely unable to fix; and it killed him.
The once Demon Lord, the one that once coveted the Tetsusaiga that could fell one-hundred demon with one swing, was unable to save the love of his life. It was irony, for if he could save a human girl from the wounds inflicted by wolves, there should’ve been no reason why he couldn’t save Kagura as well.
It wasn’t the way that it was supposed to work. Yet, it was the way it meant to be. He was meant to love passionately, briefly, and feel the all encompassing sadness of a falling star. The glittering entity had once hung, brilliantly in the velvet firmament with the notion that it was invincible. Then, little by little, it began collapsing into itself, and it imploded, vanishing into bleak, black nothingness.
There was never anything that he could think of that would’ve taught him this lesson: that he, Sesshomaru, was utterly powerless. His plans were for naught, his desire was short-lived, and any semblance of hope was futile. He had run a fool’s errand, and he had come up empty in the soul, not of the hand.
Freedom would be hers, but the cost was that they would never be together. Never would he know the scent of her hair as she slept, the sweet aroma of the wind-tossed seas. Never again would he know the taste of her skin as she climaxed, the salty-sweet flavor he craved like fine wine. And never would he be able to meet with her, or fuel the hope that he could free her without consequence or price. Why he thought there had been a way was a clear indication that he was an asinine, arrogant soul. All things had a price; the cost was eternal, endless death.
Sesshomaru couldn’t help but wonder if this was how his father had felt, when he tore across the lands to save his human lover and child. He was bleeding from grave wounds, and donned nothing more than a shamble of his demure mannerisms, and yet he ran. He ran to his love, knowing that it was at the cost of his own life.
Why he was comparing himself to his Lord father was beyond him, for he wasn’t worthy enough to stand in the silhouette of that honorable youkai, much less correlate himself to him. Had he done things differently, he would never have known avarice, the snake that once threatened to devour him whole with jealousy. Never would he have known a grudge, and he would’ve treated his younger sibling, no matter the stained blood, with the respect that he deserved. The people he stepped on, the youkai he criticized, the beings that he had so despised were nothing more than reflections of the things he hated most about himself.
And now, in the fading twilight, he knew the soul-deep, shattering truth: that he, Sesshomaru, was nothing but a husk of pent-up pride, endless notions, and at the very last, a futile plan.
Had anyone been in the forest, or of able-body to witness the Lord’s breakdown, not even the cruelest enemy he had made would’ve approached him. They would’ve been frozen to their spot with heart-stopping paralysis, with the shocking revelation that this was the Lord that was their enemy; he was utterly unrecognizable.
The flowing, chrome river of his hair fell around his body, like bands of unraveled silver thread, and instead of it being beautiful, it appeared as if was no more than a poorly made shield to hide his body from the world. The spotless attire he clothed himself in was now nothing more than a blood-spattered rorschach of a garment, and it literally looked like he had clawed his way from Hell, claw and fang, until he collapsed under the black canopy of the trees. The Mokomoko appendage that wound around his right shoulder was now entirely unbound, and it fell at his feet in a heap of scarlet-splattered fur, pronouncing for all those that knew the youkai code, as a symbol of abysmal distress.
The dagger fell from his left sleeve, and it clattered to the forest floor soundlessly. Sesshomaru resisted the urge to hurl it into the shadows, but he doubted that he could’ve lifted his head, even if his Lord father were before him, much less pick up an object right then.
He was a being abject of all emotions, aside from endless grief.
His eyes blinked, and they blurred with unshed, hot tears. Not caring who knew, what they stood for, or what it meant for his “perfect” image, he wept. It began silently until he could take it no longer. His mouth opened, and he gasped and took in deep lungfuls of air, almost as if he was afraid he would lose his ability to breathe entirely. The sobs that shook his body made him feel as if he was stranded on a homeland in the middle of an earth-razing earthquake. The gesture hurt his body, and the onslaught of emotions stole his breath, his rationale, and all ability to think clearly.
There was no other way. If there had been, it would’ve made itself known to him. This was destined, fated, written in the stars in a red pattern of constellations.
His claws dug into the earth, and he tore bits of grass and soil with the clenching of his fists. This was a curse it seemed, on his family blood-line. His father had known his mother, and she had died when he had barely been one-hundred years of age. His father had mated the human princess, and his body had been subjected to the flames of Hell, the fire that was so eager to consume and replace one fiery passion for the next. His own brother had been trapped to a tree, betrayed and played by his first love, and now...it was his turn.
It was a warped twist of fate, this bewitchment on his head. How he longed to smash what the Fate’s declared to be truth, and if he could, he would leave their celestial palace in utter ruin. The diamond pillars would fall, shatter, and he would steal his beloved’s soul from beyond the grave.
It was impossible though, a word he finally knew the meaning of. Reality had never been colder to him, or more distancing from the world that he had known for five-hundred years.
Yellow, sickly eyes narrowed, and he finally raised his head. There was no one around, and the sound of bird-song was distant. Twilight had fled, and blackness surrounded him, in a bleak dance of silhouettes. The yearning to sleep, to close his eyes was the most tempting offer. Sleep offered release from a world that gave him an awful answer, and he longed for that, more than anything.
If things looked better in the morning, brighter with the dawn’s first light, he wished to experience that.
Tired, blood-shot eyes slipped closed, and his body went limp immediately.
The dagger glittered in the slice of moonlight that slithered through the trees, the only light in that part of the forest. Even in dreams, in the waking world, Sesshomaru couldn’t escape his oath.
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The blessing was in a black, dreamless sleep. No trace of nightmare touched his psyche with terrible visions that night, or early in the morning. For that, he was thankful. He thought he would surely lose his sanity if he was to experience such terror once more.
Sesshomaru blinked several times, and he was met with a glittering forest. The sunlight streamed through the tree branches, setting everything in a gilded glow. Everything was beautiful, but he knew that it was a rare beauty. This light showed him that this was a simple loveliness, without the taint of thought or intentions; it came from nature, and it would be immortal.
Never had he conceived such a poignant, morbid thought before.
Something flashed to his left, and he reached for it with his left hand, his reflexes gripping the hilt of the blade before he knew what he was doing. He was nearly sick, but he gripped it tighter, almost as if he were mocking his earlier sadness and misery. Upon this small action, the action that meant everything, he knew that he would rise out of the pit he had lain in.
It was just a matter of getting up, rising, and acting on what needed to be done. Logic defeated misery, every time.
Sesshomaru placed the dagger in his sleeve, and gently, eased himself from his crouched position on the ground. He looked at the mess of his clothing and felt strands of his hair sticking to his face, obscuring his vision. This wouldn’t do.
Gingerly--a word that had never described the Demon Lord-- Sesshomaru brushed the hair from his eyes. His hands got tangled halfway through in the slick disaster of tresses, and he nearly tore out chunks from his frustration. No, not frustration. Rage.
Anger consumed him then, and he snarled, yearning for every bestial urge to come forth and surge over him, like a thunderous wave of the ocean.
Before he knew what was happening, the trees that surrounded him in a wide, interloping half-circle were obliterated to little more than splinters. When that wasn’t enough, roots were tore from the ground, smashed, and any hope of there being a re-growth was based on wishful thinking alone. Stones shuddered from the earth, and they were picked up, only to fall once more, like a bitter hail from the heavens.
Any animal that was caught in this unfortunate crossfire was immediately killed, and the sight of blood lined Sesshomaru’s vision. Bird’s shrieked and took the skies, frantically fleeing from the being that disrupted the peace of the morning.
From his years of suppression, of thinking that withholding memories, emotions, and any thought of pain was weakness, the world now knew of this ultimate, visceral release. The aftermath was a horrific, painful sight for any phantom witness to perceive.
Snarls tore from his mouth, the anger he had always kept at bay now enveloping him with the skill of a lover.
Lover...his mind denied that so heavily, that his head jerked up, the head that now housed crimson-filled oculars, and pointed fangs.
Lover. Love. The woman he loved...
The color leached from his eyes, his fangs retracted, and he looked to his hands. They were coated with splinters, drying blood, and bits of foliage. This was evidence of how his life had collapsed around him, turning from an iron pedestal into sand overnight.
All from the truth. All from the bitter, bitter truth.
Sesshomaru took one step forward, and then another. He longed to sink to his knees, to scream his vocal chords ragged, and simply, to live with the woman who changed him.
‘Why must the one who changed me be subjected to death?’ Could he make the trek back to Death’s doorway once more, and beg that she live, in exchange for his life? Would a barter of souls be what Death desired, more than the last breath of his beloved?
He had almost took off, fleeing onto the path like a wraith. He had almost found hope, buried though it was under the destruction of any ill-conceived faith. Almost.
The voice was loud and clear, so pronounced that it startled him in his fragile state. He gasped aloud, and his eyes shot open with another somber cognition. “There can be no trade. Use the suffering of the blade for a moment of agony, or resign her to a lifetime of ceaseless servitude.”
The ghost of option flickered like the drenched wick of a candle, and it was diminished entirely by the breath of Death. There were beings more powerful than him, and he could do nothing but kneel before them.
Almost did he do just that. He almost fell to his knees, once more weeping like a newborn who needed its mother. Almost. But he didn’t. The pieces of what he once considered pride were at his feet, like fragments of spider-webbed glass, and he chose to walk through it.
Sesshomaru took one step, then another, and then walking became something automatic. He walked not with his usual air of dignity, but bereft of any semblance of certainty. He walked like a man possessed with an internal sadness that knew no end, a man that only knew the auto-pilot functions of moving forward, step by painful step.
He knew precisely where he was going, though he truly wasn’t aware of it. He was on his lands in a private glade that would take him to a thundering waterfall, one that could be used for cleansing waters, for bathing and meditation. Once, weeks after his father had passed, he had meditated under the falls for three days straight, and afterwards, he found a clarity and high that he never thought he would come down from.
He had been wrong once more.
Sesshomaru found that he was halfway waded into the shores before he realized he was still fully dressed. Mechanically, he shed the garments and simply threw his clothes on the rocks, not caring about folding them, about propriety. He was too far gone to care about what was deemed proper.
However, he did make sure that the dagger was safely concealed in his clothing. Nothing would touch it without getting surpassed by the overwhelming aura of demise, but he wanted to be careful. Only he could deliver the ultimate freedom.
Sesshomaru walked into the water, and the roar of the falls never seemed so loud to him before. The water was cold, but he hardly noticed. He kept his eyes straight ahead, and they blinked every so often with the glare of the sunlight on the surface. Had there been a moon, he wouldn’t have blinked at all.
Without a moment to collect himself, he submersed himself in the water. The chill shocked his senses, sending him to a state of full alertness. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and in the blackness, it felt as if he were floating in an unsuspended state, a state he wished he could remain in, for all of time.
His eyes opened, and he crashed to the surface, gasping, breathing, searching the area for something unspoken, for something unknown. There was no one around, and for once in his years, he felt the gulf of solitude, the loneliness that reminded every seemingly invincible creature of their true size. He felt so small all of a sudden, and it terrified him.
Somehow, despite what fears his mind projected, his spine straightened, almost in a challenge to this invisible enemy that dared claim he was unworthy, the antagonist that threatened his own self-worth. He had been demolished by his own emotions, the emotions that he had kept deep within, pent-up, until they had surged forward in a rush that no being could’ve ever hoped to contain. It was such a realization, such a reality check, that he surely thought he would’ve been destroyed by the onslaught of such claims.
If he was here, if he could feel the chill of the water, the ebbing warmth of the sunlight, as well as the still-there pang of grief, he knew he had survived. He was alive, not in the same manner, but in a way that guaranteed he was taking nothing for granted. His was not an ignorant existence any longer, but one that had looked reality in the face, accepted it, and chose to move forward from it.
Chagrin filled his mouth, and it rose with the intensity of illness. He held it back, and it abated as quickly as it had come. Shame threatened his body with self-doubt, with self-criticism, but he held that back as well. There was no time to succumb to the depths of inner-derision. What mattered now, was this sunlight, this day, and the thought of what he had to do. He had broken down and fell into the embrace of sorrow in its entirety, but now he found the strength to ease out of those cold, pulsing arms. Life awaited, and the promise of the one he would soon hold warmed him.
Sesshomaru bowed his head, and he washed his hair thoroughly, cherishing the feeling of the chemicals in the stream as they cleansed the impurities from his body. This was a baptism of sorts, a self-truth that erased every foul action he had ever done in his life.
He emerged from the stream a new being, a new spirit that was prepared for what he had to do. Internally, his heart beat with the truth that killed him. Yet, he continued walking, knowing just what had to be done. It would be so beautiful, yet so terrible.
The sunlight glittered on the surface of the water, as if urging him on with the reminder of time itself. The pendulum would be the scarlet of twilight, and by that time, the deed would be done.
Sesshomaru dressed quickly in his hakamas, ankle-high boots and his kimono. He reached for his armor and literally threw it into the water, the sound of it sinking and bubbling music to his ears. There was no need to shield himself from anything. He grasped the hilts of both the Tenseiga, a sword he was now humbled to have, as well as Tokijin, and pictured them sailing through the air, whistling by unseen and unheard, deep into the castle chambers of his home. He had no need for them anymore, no need for weapons, or for ceaseless decoration.
If he wanted, he could shred the red chrysanthemum crest from his shoulders, indicating his abdication from the pettiness of titles, of vanity, and of pride. There was no need for it anymore, no need at all. However, he wanted to look his best for the one he only had a short time with.
There was no time to return, to speak of what happened. What he knew was that time was slipping away, every second and moment bleeding into the next, becoming an endless torrent of ever-moving lights and shapes. It was up to him to reach forward in those sounds and illuminations and claim this day for his own. For, afterwards, nothing would be the same.
He regretted not being able to share this moment with his human ward, with the little Rin that would be taken care of like royalty. A feeling of endless peace filled his spirit when a premonition flitted over his eyes: the picture of Rins’ smile as she looked upon the whole of Japan, as a human bride. She would marry the one known as Kohaku, and her life would be filled with mirth and the laughter of her many children. She would speak of the legend of the strong Demon Lord that took her in, and brought her back to life. Never would she know horror, ever again. His legacy had reassured that, along with the association she had with him. That would protect her for the rest of her days. There was no more regret, only revelation.
His once stone-cold lips turned to the skies in a smile, a true smile that was unafraid of his duty. The only thing that could’ve made him happiest was one person, one being that would be at his side very soon.
Sesshomaru reached into the folds of his kimono and retrieved a long, white feather. Gently, as if caressing her back, he brushed the stem of the feather with his claws. He felt an electric jolt through his skin, almost as if something were stroking his inner-most soul right then. She had used this enchanted object as a means to communicate with him, if he should ever be in want of her company. How foolish he was to think that he would never not need her company.
‘Kagura,’ he spoke ‘are you able to be with me, all day?’ It was a stretch to think that she could get away with it, but she had done it before. Naraku seemed to have turned a blind eye to her, but Sesshomaru had known better. Deep down, Naraku always knew what was going on with his counterparts, for they were an extra extension of himself. Her “Master” was letting her get away with this, for he thought that it was nothing more than a passing phase, a fever of the flesh and a fancy just as superficial. There was never a statement more false than that.
He heard a chuckle, and it set his skin on fire. ‘Yes. Look behind you.’ Sesshomaru opened his eyes, heard the rushing of the tailwinds of a tornado, and was met with his love.
She was crouched before him in recovery of her flight, and with the slightly disheveled kimono, ruffled hair, and an inquiring expression, never had she looked more beautiful. Kagura stood, placed her feather securely on her hair, and smiled at him. It wasn’t the playful half-smirk her mouth was set in when she had something interesting on her mind. It was the smile that was reserved solely for himself, purely for his own eyes. Once, when they were laying in the open sunlight, she told him so softly that she had never known a true smile, before she had one to smile for.
Every time she did that, the smallest of gestures, he found that his pulse roared to life, as if he had shifting magma beneath his veins. She brought him to life, shook him from what he had so foolishly become, and stripped away anything foul about his person; for the time that she shared with him, he had become something worthy of Life itself.
The thought rattled him, for he knew the magnitude of their passion now. It was a roaring blaze, one that would have endless fodder on it for the remainder of the day. It was up to him to ignite it, right then.
Sesshomaru walked towards her, and before they had the chance to exchange verbal pleasantries, they found themselves in rapt of one another’s lips. His tongue delved into her mouth, she moaned and fell against him, and he knew true peace. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he gripped her shoulders, gently caressing the fabric of her kimono with his claws. This was his beloved, the one he would free.
Such thoughts, for the moment, he could forget. He lost himself in the abyss of her kiss, in the sounds that she expressed, for his ears only, and he was swallowed by a euphoria that knew no end. She was the one who was worth that entire endeavor, the being that he wouldn’t forsake for anything. If he had to, he would do it all over again, just for him to end up right in this spot, kissing her for all the world to see.
His lips trailed from her mouth, down her neck. She moaned aloud in her internal ecstasy, and she gripped his back, bracing herself if her knees should buckle.
“You’re so forward this morning...what’s come over you?” He sensed the teasing, sultry tone in her voice, and it made him want her even more.
Gently, but rough enough to where she would enjoy it, he flipped her on her back. His hands rested on the grass, and their eyes connected in a clash of the whirlwind of snow and the lapping heat of flames. In her eyes, he saw what was reflected in his own: a feverish, playful passion. It surprised her he knew, for he normally would’ve greeted her, and then claimed her mouth. She sensed something was amiss, but she had no idea how it would later affect her.
“There’s no sense in propriety when the object of your desire wants you just as deeply.” A slight flush came to her cheeks, and he found that the color was most becoming on her. It reminded him of the sprinkling of rose petals in the midsts of a freshly fallen snow drift, a lovely contradiction.
Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and he knew that she was happier than she had been since he last saw her. It was sometimes impossible for her to come and see him, and late in the evenings, they communicated with her feathers, and it was all he could do to not seek every crevice and mountain overpass until he annihilated Naraku, just for her. Forget what Naraku did to him, for it was of no consequence; it was what Naraku continued to do to a being he gave life to, and then used for his own selfish gain that deserved comeuppance.
She reached up, and touched her mouth to his with a hint of innocence, almost as if she had never tasted his lips before. Her tongue gently eased his mouth open, and in the expanse of a few moments, they knew one another’s mouths. Their eyes closed, and they gave in to the desire they had for one another, one that went far beyond the level of their physical beauty and attraction.
In each other, they saw kindred spirits, spirits that the world couldn’t understand even if they had the rest of eternity. In each other, their facades that they were forced to show the world splintered, and the sound was the symphony of the angels, a euphony that knew no literal end. The joining of their hands, of their bodies made them feel complete, as if they were a split entity coming together once more, in the literal and mental coupling. It was a holy sanction, a unification that went far beyond making love.
Clothes were shed, every portion of skin was celebrated, and they both cried out to the heavens from their release, a climax that was the closest they had ever felt to touching the Divine. They touched, and the mere brush of their hands ignited a feeling so surreal, no jumbling of words could have even began to express the depth, the profound effect it had on both parties. It was unity, in the truest sense of the world.
After this time, Kagura cried once more. He lapped away her tears, took her in his arms, and traced the mark that she was so ashamed of, the brand that displayed that she was owned. Soon, she would be owned by nothing more than the wind itself.
She stirred, wiped at her eyes, and glanced up at him in consternation. “Why do you deal with me when I’m like this? Surely you think I’m pathetic.” His expression was filled with such alarm, she reeled back a few centimeters.
The moment she leaned back, he gripped her shoulders in both of his hands. “Never, not even in the beginning of our tryst, would I label you as pathetic. You are very worthy of me.” Her eyes opened wide, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In his words, he was revealing his love for her, his utter adoration for a being that enflamed his heart with the fire of life.
Kagura’s head tilted to the left, almost as if she were seeing something in his face that she had never noticed before. Hesitantly, she reached forward and brushed the hair back from his face. Her gaze pierced right through him with an inquiry, and nothing was lost in her ruby-red intellect.
Finally, she spoke. “Sesshomaru...your expressions are so different. Your eyes...and your voice...” she trailed off, almost as if she realized she was speaking nonsense. “Never mind.”
Her gaze drifted towards the ground, but he gently tilted her chin up. He smiled to her, and the gesture must’ve been so unique, so enchanting, that she inhaled sharply. Color rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled, whether with unshed tears or with the inner-light of revelation, he knew not. What he did know, was that she was aware that this smile, the one that he had created and unearthed, was now only for her. In this sacred hour, he was showing her everything he had become, in its entirety. This new being could only be shared with one person, lest it be spoiled.
That might’ve been a frantic thought, one that was created from the inevitability of what had to occur later, what needed to be done. For now though, he banished those thoughts from his mind.
“This smile is entirely for you. It is unprecedented by nothing else, aside from your existence.” He raised his hands, and gently caressed her hair, showing her that what he held in his hands was precious enough to be treated in such a manner. She was precious, for all eternity. She had to leave this world knowing that she was loved, held dear beyond the truest definition of the world.
Kagura looked at him almost as if she could sense something was deeply wrong with his behavior. She looked at him as if she saw a stranger instead of the Demon Lord whom she shared a mutual, irrefutable bond with. Then, her suspicion shattered in a myriad of jubilation, revealing nothing but happiness in her eyes.
“I love it.” Her cheeks instantly colored, and he felt a laugh slip through his lips. She started once more, but instantly relaxed. She arched her neck, almost as if she were a swan that was preparing for a dive. She basked in his laughter the way a sun-deprived child favored the rays of the sunlight, and the gesture was so beautiful, so accepting of who he was, that he found himself smiling even more. Why he had rarely done it before was beyond his understanding. “Your smile I mean. And your laugh. It’s nice.”
He felt himself chuckling once more, and the sound made Kagura open her eyes. She blinked, and he knew scarlet eternity. “I am thankful you find the sudden change alluring.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and then flickered to her eyes. “Tell me...what do you love?”
She gripped his back with her hands, and her legs wound around his hips. He eased her onto her back, and he kissed a path from her stomach, all the way to her lips. Their mouths met, and he knew peace, wondrous peace that canceled out all thought of an end. “Tell me, Kagura.”
Their faces hovered close enough to one another, close enough to where they would be able to hear the words forming before they were spoken. Sesshomaru brushed the bridge of his nose above her own, and her eyes sparkled with a bliss that knew no confinements, no such word as boundary.
The word came out as a gasp, but it was un-retrievable. “You.” Her eyes focused on his, and in them, he saw the solid, concrete truth. “It’s only ever been you.”
This was the moment where affirmation had its say, where the bridges of what duty meant to him were destroyed. He wasn’t obligated to tell her, but he chose to. He only ever spoke the truth.
“If I knew love before you, it was not love at all. It is you, and no other.” Tears sparkled from her eyes, and their kiss sealed the end to one sadness, opening up another world of melancholy.
Soon. He would tell her soon.
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The day had been beautiful, in every sense of the word. The pair had had the chance to do activities that they had not the time, nor the means to do before. It was as if Time itself had bestowed upon them the gift of a full day, a day of perfect weather.
Sesshomaru walked hand in hand with Kagura through the forests, and they pretended that the world was their own. He mentioned to her that if he had created the world, that he would want for there to be a way to bathe her in sunlight, for never had she looked more beautiful than when the sun shone down on her. Her eyes met the ground, and then his eyes. She was still shy in an innocent way, but her soul was as old as his was, if not as experienced. In her life, he knew that she had not known more than endless injustice, tyranny, and slaughter that was on her hands. This day erased all of her past hurt, the punishments, and replaced them with a day all her own, a day that she could share with him.
The places that they ventured to were surreal and secluded with barely any wildlife roaming about. It was unusual, for it was the time of year where everything was in a flurry of activity, eager and energetic with their species. It only added to the mystical feeling that for the day, they were in charge of the world, and that it was their secret place, theirs for the taking.
Silence remained unbroken, but never was it tense. It was peaceful, a calm that had no underlying feelings of swallowed words. When it was broken, the words were without shame, for there was no need for embarrassment for confessions. Kagura told him about what she remembered from the first time she existed, up until right then. She spoke of the revulsion she held for her own life, and how she would love nothing more than to kill Naraku. At first, panic lined his heart, for he knew that somewhere in a shadow-drenched room, Naraku was keeping an ear open for any back-talk against him. Then, the feeling of premonition he had experienced earlier that day came over him, and he knew that there would be no pain for her, by Naraku’s hand, today.
He comforted her, and then she asked him about himself. So, he told her. He told her about his father and the ideals he held to be true, as well as what he could recall of his mother. Also, he told her that he didn’t truly hate Inuyasha. He hated the way that he had once made him feel, so powerless and unworthy of what his father wanted out of him. Then, he told her about the peace he made with that, and he saw admiration in her eyes. He spoke also about Rin and about how she had come to play a large role in his life. He told her how she was getting taller and that she absorbed all the information that he told her, as well how well she was doing with the lessons Jaken instilled upon her.
Their lives were discussed, until there was nothing left to say. When there wasn’t, silence reigned dominant, and it was peaceful, a soothing tranquility that was nothing short of perfect. The day itself was perfection, Sesshomaru knew. It was a time that all beings dreamed about, a day that knew no suffering, no taint of everlasting commitments for titles, or servitude. It was a day without the affliction most mortals carried with them, and every youkai as well.
He was blessed, ever so blessed.
Two hours before sunset, he knew that it was time to tell her. He needed to speak of what he had been doing, the mission that he had completed, aside from the most important aspect of his quest.
They were leaning against one another on the ledge of a boulder, one that showed a picturesque view of the countryside. Trees, villages, and deep rivulets of streams were carved into the land, and it looked so flawless, Sesshomaru thought it a portrait for a brief moment.
He turned to her, and the words came out. He told her how he wanted nothing more than for her to be free, nothing more than for her to live without the fear of endless pain. She deserved so much more than that, so much more than for her life to be lived in vain in such a regard.
The crimson eyes he so adored flared with such an intensity, he wondered if she would strike him, weep, or listen to every word he said. She simply listened, and for that, he was thankful.
Also, he told her about all of the travels he had gone on, all of the journeys to find the answer to his question, the question that had become his sole right. Her eyes opened wide, first in awe, then in admiration, and then finally, in barely suppressed sadness. He could sense what she was thinking, down to the last strand of a thought. She was deeply humbled and honored that he went to such lengths just for her, and to that, he nodded to her, affirming what words never could: that she was worth every effort. At the end of that elation however, was a horror that knew no words: that he didn’t find his answer, or that he did, and it was the most tragic thing that could’ve ever existed.
Then, he spoke of his trip to Death. He told her about the battles, the staircase made of bone, as well as the awful way that the spirits had yearned for nothing more than his life. Then, he described Death, from her dress made of soot and gems, to the mask, to the way he literally kneeled before her in his pleading.
All sound seemed to stop in their world then, and even the noise of their breathing halted, as if they had ceased to breathe entirely.
Kagura gripped his hand, and the trepidation in her eyes was greater than her hope. He spoke of what happened, the answer to the question that they had dared to ask before, with such naivete towards what was real, what they had both known all along: that the only way for her to be free, was to die.
He showed her the dagger, and he set it several feet away from them. He glared at it with such ferocity, that if he had the ability, it would have burst into flames with the effort.
“Upon this weapon, you will die swiftly, without the torment your Master will inflict upon you.” He wished to say more, but he couldn’t. His voice was frozen beneath the chill of reality, hidden far beneath the cold surface of the fiber of truth itself.
Kagura turned from the weapon, and met his eyes. In her eyes was endless gratitude, something that he knew she couldn’t place into words. No one, not even the most skilled tongue, could’ve crafted a sentence, a paragraph, or a monologue that declared the appreciation she felt for him. It was boundless, without any sense of an end. Then, she saw the way sorrow came over his features, etching them in the chiseled marks of remorse.
He bowed his head, and she gripped him to her chest, comforting him now. The tears that he thought he ran out of came once again, and he knew that a being simply couldn’t run out of tears, in the same way that he couldn’t run out of love for her; it was impossible.
They gripped each other fiercely, and once his episode was over, they rocked each other, memorizing the feeling of having one another in their arms. This was a sensation he would recall, a feeling he would never grow tired of.
Finally, Kagura spoke. “I would rather have you kill me, for you already hold my life. It makes sense if you’re the one to take it away.” She smiled up at him, but it was no weak, half-faltering grin. This was a smile that was forged through endless hardship, through the past doubt of the thought that she would never smile again, much less feel happy again. This was the smile of someone who was eager to be free, of someone who was about to experience something she had only dreamed about. Hers would be an eternal dream.
They both looked to the horizon at the same time, and both felt a piercing ache hit their chest. It was coming on sunset, and both knew that was when one life would be taken, at the expense of freedom.
Still, Kagura smiled, and it was more brilliant, more alive than he had ever seen her. She stood up, held out her hand, and helped him to his feet. He had no time to feel revulsion for the fact that she had to be strong for him, and not the other way around. With the way she looked at him, in a glance that showed that she didn’t mind in the least, and loved him all the more for feeling so deeply, he knew peace.
Quickly, he picked up the dagger, and placed it in his left sleeve pocket. The hour had arrived, the pendulum swung, and one of them would know a conclusion.
He gripped Kagura in his arms, and took to the skies on his mist. She buried her face deep into his neck, and placed her hand over his heart. She wished to know what it felt like, minutes before she left this world, to feel his heart. She owned it, forevermore.
“I want for you to be comfortable. Tell me where you wish to lay.” Kagura nodded and looked down at the orange-bathed lands. The entirety of the countryside was washed over in an ochre hue, cloaked in the rising of the shadows. Darkness would claim the both of them, very soon.
“There. I want it to be there.” She pointed towards an empty glade, one that was completely surrounded by trees on all sides. It looked like a sphere had been cut out of the forest, merely for this place of a peaceful, bloody passing to be possible. It was the way the Fate’s had intended it, the way that it was meant to be.
The thought filled him with so much consternation, so much endless rage that he nearly took off in the other direction. He entertained the briefest fancy of taking her to the ends of the earth and fighting off whatever dared threaten the both of them. That’s what made it a fantasy however: it would never happen, for he wouldn’t let it.
Softly, he landed in the grass. She gripped him fiercely, feverishly, and he clasped her body to his as if it were the only thing that supported his entire being. Then, he released her.
Kagura landed on her feet, and she stood on her toes to kiss him. They gripped one another, their mouths met, and the kiss shared between the both of them was the most passionate, and brief feeling they had ever felt. It was lightning, the flare of embers, and the endless torrent of falling stars.
She smiled at him, and then she danced. The wind picked her up, and she twirled around on the breeze, owning her element, becoming one with the dance. She turned up her hands, threw her arms out, and performed a pirouette in mid-air. Never before had she appeared so mystical, nor was the truth of her existence more pronounced than right then. Hers was a beauty that needed to last, that needed to be etched in the tablets of immortality.
The smile on her lips was genuine as she landed on the grass, her back to the ground. Her face was turned to the stars, and she was more than ready to greet Death, like the ever-constant companion it played in the whole of life.
The blade weighed down on his arm as if he had wrapped steel around his forearm, and he knew that it was merely his subconscious creating the cumbersome weight. He would use it for its intended purpose, and the thought hurt him more than he could’ve ever expressed.
He made his way over to her and when he was several feet away, bowed before her, as if she were a Queen, a Lady, someone worthy of far more than she gained in this life. In this instant of utter decorum, he gave her the respect and appreciation she was more than deserving of.
When he lifted his head, she was still smiling. Tears were shining in her eyes, but he knew that they were not happy tears, nor tears of a broken heart. They were bittersweet tears, tears that knew that this had been destined all along, in the doom of their passion. It was fated from the start of their meetings, from the beginning of their lives even. There was nothing to be done about it, which was the sad part. The wondrous part, was that it happened.
Sesshomaru revealed the blade, and in the faint, twinkling light of the hidden stars, it gleamed with an inner-strength. It wanted her life, and his hand would claim it. His hand shook the entire time he wrapped his arm around her back, and as Kagura made her kimono slide to her hips, the tip of the dagger touched her skin. It was as if the weapon had a mind of its own, and it yearned for nothing more than to slip in-between her flesh, to the bone, wounding her gravely.
‘No.’ He would control it, and nothing more. Sesshomaru tussled with the ability of the sword, and the essence of the weapon threatened to overpower him more than once. He felt the smallest trickle of blood escape one ear, and Kagura started when she saw this. In the concentrated set of his eyes, he revealed that he was controlling the blade. He wanted to be the one to end her life, and not the possessed weapon. Tears rolled from her eyes, and she opened her arms wide, as if embracing the acceptance that would be her reality.
The spirit abated, the pair drew a breath, and the knife slipped through Kagura’s back, and with applied pressure, came out the part of her chest where her heart would beat, had she an organ. She exhaled sharply, and he knew that to his utter despair, he had to push the blade in deeper to kill her fully.
His vision swam, his heart beat roared in his ears, and all the while, Kagura looked up at him. Her lips parted, and she began to say something. “Your armor... you removed it, for me.” She slumped forward in her pain, but she wasn’t through living yet. “Please...do it. Set me free.”
Free. That’s what this was for: her freedom. She would still exist in everything he saw, in the lessons he learned from her, and in the way that she had captivated his heart for the rest of his life. She just wouldn’t be beside him, which was the hardest part.
He pushed the blade in as far as it could go, a cry was heard, and his love fell limp in his arms. She took several deep breaths, gasped with a faint, wet noise, and was suddenly still. Kagura was dead, completely free.
Somewhere, he knew that Naraku sensed this as well, and would send out his minions to find the body. That would never happen, for there would be nothing left to find. Come the dawn, she would be gone, glittering like the bands of sunlight he wished to bathe her in. She would become the wind, blow the taint of the land away, and give all life the breath that it craved.
Gently, he eased the blade out of her chest, calmly set it to the right, and cradled her to his body. Whimpers left his mouth, but he was completely out of tears, out of ways to express his sadness. There were no words for his grief, for the emptiness of what his existence had now become. All variations of syllables were lost on the black waves of his subconscious, a place where he wished he could scream, wished he could cry, wished he could destroy, merely to feel. For, all he felt was the soothing ache of what oblivion promised. His farewell was empty, his plea was hollow, and nothingness would encompass his life, like a metal cocoon that wished to show him endless agony for the remainder of his endless days.
Endless days, endless time. The pendulum would swing, severing his days in half again and again, the sunrise would bleed, the stars would taunt him, and any thought of mercy, or miracles would vanish when he conceived them.
Carefully, he lay with Kagura down on the grass. The emotion sent forth a flurry of dust into the sky, and it seemed to wink at him, taunting him with promises of light, of a life with light in it. That was impossible, for it just wouldn’t be.
The yellow glow of fireflies came, as did his ability to feel. He felt like he had never felt before, and it made him moan aloud. The body in his arms was still warm, but just barely. Soon, it would be cold, and there would be nothing left. In his fancy, in his frantic and fragile state of mind, Sesshomaru considered building a fire, if only to warm her up for the rest of the night, up until she would indubitably vanish.
The light of the fireflies danced around him in a dizzying array of yellow light, reminding him of sunlight, of his lover’s banter on how he wished to bathe Kagura with it. He blinked many times, but his vision remained spotty, blurred around the edges. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to sleep, for that meant that the body in his arms would disappear, dispersing into wherever Death claimed bodies.
His heart began to beat rapidly, as if he were at the peak of making love, and he voiced his discomfort in a low moan, a sound that was pitiful to his own ears. He took a few deep breaths, but that didn’t help the sensation. It felt as if his heart were growing in his chest, growing to gargantuan proportions, and because of it, his breath was stolen as compensation.
Stolen. Compensation. Everything had a price. Nothing was free, nothing.
The thought angered him, and his breath was stolen once more. His vision danced, spotting over in a mixture of yellow and black dots. Never had his eyelids been so heavy in all of his life, and his resistance halted.
His chest squeezed, and he took in air sharply. Every nerve in his body felt as if he was on fire, but the frame itself appeared weightless.
Weightless...he liked this feeling.
Then, he knew what was happening: a blessing was occurring, one he was more than willing to face.
With a smile, he closed his eyes for the final time. Oblivion greeted him, memory engulfed him, and he knew no more pain.
The fireflies twinkled, and two of the insects flew away, dancing and swaying into the night.
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