InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Lord of the West ❯ "If I Must, I Will . . ." ( Chapter 19 )

Yamisui: There will be one more chapter after this one. As for some of you, those predictions you've postulated are wrong. (kukuku)

 

{+} {+} {+} LORD OF THE WEST {+} {+} {+}

 

{+} {+} Chapter 18: “If I Must, I Will . . .” {+} {+}

 

There are certain moments in a person's life that do not seem real. Yet they are real . . . so real that the mind cannot bear to see them in full clarity, and so they take on a dreamlike quality to soften their intensity. This was what Kagome felt, watching the arrow cut a sizzling path through the steam that rose from the surrounding fissures. The edges of her vision blurred, as if she had her own steam rising, only this might have been tears. And Inuyasha, bent over his brother's inert form, was so caught up in his bloodlust that he paid it no heed.

 

It passed through his back as easily as if he'd been made of air. Kagome knew that it had struck the shard by the sudden flare of light. It radiated briefly from the place where it struck, like a sunburst, and then she saw the minute twinkle of the shard as it fell from Inuyasha's body. Watching it, Kagome was amazed at her own shortsightedness. While preparing to shoot, with her thoughts only of Inuyasha, she had not considered the consequences to the shard itself.

 

It was now split cleanly in two. As Inuyasha slumped forward, head bowing over his brother's chest, Kagome let her bow fall. It clattered onto the stone face below. She didn't even look at it; her eyes were on the shards. One lay where it had fallen. The other half skittered haphazardly across the rough ground, jouncing toward the edge.

 

“Kirara!” Kagome cried, motioning toward it frantically.

 

Kirara's eyes were sharp; she understood immediately. Together they swooped downward into a death dive. The tiny fragment spun, still glinting from the residue of Kagome's arrow, and she tracked its progress with her great orange eyes.

 

They landed at the edge of the rock. Kirara stamped one massive paw down over the shard, inches away from the edge. Kagome didn't waste time retrieving it from the demon. Instead, she slid off Kirara's back, heading for the other shard. It lay beside Inuyasha. She was afraid to even look at Inuyasha. His white hair, now soaked with sweat, straggled blood across his brother's chest, hiding his face. She knelt by his side, reaching for the shard.

 

A clawed hand clamped down over hers, pinning it against the shard, against the rock.

 

Inuyasha's head lifted.

 

“You,” he snarled. “You'll die for this, bitch. I'll slit you open.”

 

Kagome froze. She didn't know what to do. The arrow had expelled the shard from him, yet he hadn't returned to himself. He wasn't even recognizably human any more. His eyes were red and pupil-less, and blood trickled from his fangs. And his voice was little better than a beast's growl.

 

She swallowed, forcing her tongue, which had suddenly gone numb, to find her voice.

 

“Let me go, Inuyasha,” she whispered. She was shaking. She couldn't stop. `It wasn't even the shard that did this. This is . . . Inuyasha. This is what he really is . . .'

 

She hated herself for thinking it. Even through the fear, so thick she could hardly breathe, she was angry at herself for letting herself believe, even for an instant, that he was a monster.

 

But she didn't know what to do.

 

Behind her, she could hear Kirara behind her, growling low in her throat. Kagome's gaze slid sideways; out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the tiger demon shift ever so slightly, preparing to take a step toward them.

 

In that instant, as her attention was diverted, she never even saw the clawed hand shoot out. One instant she was breathing. The next, she wasn't. His hand was clamped around her throat. There was no hesitation in that hand; he began to squeeze immediately, without a word. She tried to speak, but her voice was held fast in his grip; she could only gaze imploringly. His face, distorted and ugly, began to waver in her vision.

 

Then things went hazy. She heard a loud snarl and felt a jolt. Pain flared along one side of her body, and the world reeled crazily. Then the darkness cleared from her vision, and she became aware of the rough press of stone against her cheek and hand, and that she was lying on her side on the rock. Inuyasha had thrown her aside. Gritting her teeth against the ache in her jarred bones, Kagome pushed herself up onto one elbow. Inuyasha was advancing on Kirara now, who now bore a nasty-looking gash across the front of her chest. Kagome couldn't see the actual wound, but in the lurid glow of the lava flowing around them she could see blood matted in streaks across Kirara's thick ruff.

 

Streaks splayed like claws.

 

Squinting against the pain, Kagome reached for the sword strapped across her back.

 

`I haven't saved him yet,' she thought fiercely, willing fingers numb from bruised nerves to move to move to move. `But I won't give up! Not until he's Inuyasha again!'

 

White wires seared through the nerves of her hand as it clenched around the hilt, willing muscles to tighten and lift her arm, to roll her body onto her knees.

 

Love alone moved her legs, and her arm.

 

She ran at him, charging him from the side.

 

At that moment, the ground beneath them lurched suddenly. Somewhere below, where the great boulder was still rooted to the ruins of the mountain, something had begun to give way. The shift was brief, for at that moment, far below, another boulder had also fallen and wedged against it. Yet it was enough to throw off Kagome's balance. She tripped over Sesshoumaru's body.

 

When she landed, her elbow and forearm hit stone, causing her to lose her grip on the sword. Tetsusaiga went spinning across the rock face in a hiss of steel scraping. She lunged after it on her hands and knees. Then the ground lurched again. She heard a faint, tiny ping as the jewel shard lying near Sesshoumaru bounced a few feet along the rock. She'd kicked it with her sneaker.

 

`Oh!' she thought. The pain had temporarily brought her to her senses. If one shard of the Jewel was lost, it would never be completed, and none of this would ever end. She lunged backward over Sesshoumaru's body again to recover it. She slid it inside her jeans pocket and hoped desperately that it would stay there; she didn't have anywhere better she could put it right now. Then she turned toward Inuyasha again, still on her hands and knees.

 

To her utter surprise, Kirara appeared to be holding her own. There was an aura of fire about her that flared far brighter than usual. And though Inuyasha, enraged beyond all reason, struck at her in a blind fury, it seemed he was unable to land another blow. Kirara was moving to avoid his claws with a speed unlike anything Kagome had ever seen.

 

But she understood why; she could see the other half of the Shikon shard in Kirara's mouth.

 

Then Kirara lashed out with her own claws, catching Inuyasha across the stomach. He went down on one knee with a grunt of pain, but didn't seem badly wounded. A split-second later he was on his feet again, lunging for his opponent with a vicious swipe of his claws. Red light trailed from his nails where he struck; his awakened demon blood was adding extensions of raw jyaki to his transforming body. Only Kirara's own enhanced jyaki held it at bay. His claws connected with her powerful chest, but could not penetrate the wall of muscle to reach her heart. And she, in turn, snapped forward and caught his throat in her jaws.

 

“NO!” Kagome screamed. “Don't kill him!”

 

Kirara heard her and hesitated, and the massive jaws closed tight but did not meet. Kagome cast about her desperately, searching for some way out of this. Inuyasha was not going to die. She was going to save his future. The future.

 

Once again, she caught up Tetsusaiga with both fists clenched around the hilt.

 

“Hold him!” she cried to Kirara, who was doing this anyway despite the deadly claws digging their way deeper into her chest. In a few seconds she would be dead.

 

Kagome wasted no seconds hesitating. She charged again this time, and did not fall. The blade caught him deep through the shoulder---the arm with which he was attempting to reach Kirara's heart. It was also where Kagome felt it was least likely to kill him.

 

He let out a bellow of rage, snarling something incoherent, and let go of Kirara. The demon cat kept her jaws firmly locked about his neck, twisting her head and attempting to shake him off balance. He wasn't getting much air at all, and her fangs were digging into his skin, but he didn't seem to care. He was all but mindless.

 

“Inuyasha!” Kagome cried, forced to back away from him again because of the danger of his thrashing claws. “Inuyasha, come back!” She was crying freely now. She didn't know what to do. “Come . . . back . . .” she repeated, her voice drained to a whisper.

 

His one good arm balled into a fist, and slammed into the side of Kirara's head. Because he had used raw brute strength and not jyaki, the demon cat's own aura did nothing to protect her. Kagome winced at the sound of bone cracking, and Kirara's jaws flew open as her head was struck away from Inuyasha's neck. The punch was so violent that it pushed her a good five feet to the side, throwing her off-balance.

 

That was when Kagome saw the shard fly out of her mouth, amid a shower of blood-flecks from her shattered jaw.

 

It soared through the air, glittering in the firelight.

 

In that instant Kagome chose between saving the world and saving Inuyasha.

 

She sprinted after it and took a flying leap.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Inuyasha turned toward the running girl with a malicious grin. With his good arm he grasped hold of Tetsusaiga's hilt and wrenched it free of his arm.

 

The shard was falling fast, toward the edge of the rock. Kagome forgot all about keeping her own balance and dove for it.

 

In Inuyasha's hand, freed from the flesh of his arm, Tetsusaiga blazed into life.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Kagome's hands closed around the shard just as her body hit the rock. She landed on her stomach, and the wind was knocked out of her, but her hands were firmly clamped around her prize. Then the ground lurched again . . . and she was hurled forward, scraping across the stone, toward the end of the boulder. She scarcely even had time to draw in a breath of alarm as her body slid off the edge.

 

Her eyes, which had until this instant been focused on the shard clasped between her palms, now witnessed the roiling river of flame below, toward which her downward tilt was speeding her. Her heart clenched in terror.

 

Then strong arms caught her from behind.

 

She gasped now, pulling the Shikon shard in to her chest. Her last desperate thought was to protect it, to see to it that it did not fall forever beyond reach. She knew she was about to die. She felt hot breath on the back of her neck, and warm saliva, and knew the crunch of fangs through bone would come next.

 

He pulled her back from the edge, onto the stone, but he didn't kill her.

 

He just held her. And Kagome, pulled into this sudden, fierce, embrace, realized that the body against which she was being held was shaking, and that the heat on the back of her neck was the warmth of his tears.

 

For one brief, blessed, eternal moment, neither moved. The ground beneath them ceased to heave, the flame-light dimmed, the heat cooled, the dark rock faded, and Kagome was locked away in the circle of his arms, where pain and danger were a fairy-tale somewhere far away.

 

`It's over,' she thought, closing her eyes to stop her own tears. `At last it's over. I've saved him.'

 

Then the ground beneath them heaved again, violently.

 

She felt something thump against the body pressed against hers, and woke from her dazed moment in dull surprise.

 

“Kirara?”

 

Inuyasha's voice. His voice.

 

“Kirara!”

 

Kagome turned to see that Kirara had reverted to her smaller form, and that she had leaped onto Inuyasha's back. She seemed in very bad shape; she was slumped over his shoulder, whimpering. Her jaw was a mess; Inuyasha was wincing at the sight of it.

 

“Don't worry, Kirara,” he said hoarsely. “We'll get you out of here.”

 

Then he turned back to Kagome, whose head now rested just below his chin.

 

“We have to get out of here fast,” he told her. His face was very pale. “This place is falling apart. And if these earthquakes are any indication, it's going to blow soon.”

 

As if in response, the ground beneath them began to slant downward, tipping over into the river of fire below.

 

“Shit!” Inuyasha swore, digging the claws of one hand into the rock and catching Kagome round the waist to keep them from sliding down into it. Bits and chunks of rubble bombarded them from above.

 

Kirara was clinging to Inuyasha's shoulder with her tiny claws, mewling in alarm. Thinking quickly, Kagome inserted the Shikon shard she'd been clutching into her pocket before she forgot herself and let go of it. Then she heard a familiar rasp of steel on stone, and saw Tetsusaiga sliding down with the debris.

 

“Shit!” Inuyasha swore again when he saw it. “Kagome, hang on!”

 

Kagome had no idea what he was doing, but she knew better than to disobey when their lives were on the line.

 

Pushing off the slanted rock face with his feet, like a grappler, Inuyasha swung them to one side. Realizing now what he intended, Kagome disengaged one arm from around his neck and reached out to catch Tetsusaiga. Once it was securely in her sweaty palm, Inuyasha allowed them to swing back.

 

“Good, now give it to me,” he ordered.

 

Kagome blinked in confusion.

 

“You don't have any hands free!” she protested.

 

He opened his mouth. Kagome stared for a second, and then . . .

 

“Oh!”

 

She inserted the blade between his teeth, and he clamped them closed. Kagome wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck, trying to use her feet to brace them against the rock as well.

 

The boulder was still tilting downward.

 

“Shith!” Inuyasha swore a third time, this time with his speech impaired by the sword in his mouth. “Le ave thoo GO NOW!”

 

He turned his face upward, braced his feet against the rock, and jumped. His leap carried them high up the rock face, almost to the opposite edge, which was now swiftly becoming the high ground.

 

Almost.

 

His nails found scant purchase, for the fingers of that arm were suffering nerve damage from when Kagome had stabbed him with Tetsusaiga. He dug his claws into the stone, but he was beginning to slide.

 

“Inuyasha!” Kagome screamed, letting go of him with one hand and trying to find her own handhold. This wasn't working; they were going to . . .

 

White claws caught Inuyasha's sliding wrist.

 

“You . . . half-breed . . . bastard,” came the whispered curse from above. “`Chosen' . . . she called you . . . and you can't . . . even save . . . yourself.”

 

Inuyasha's head tilted upward. Kagome saw his face light up with sheer amazement. She didn't blame him. She was just as surprised---although she was even more surprised to see Sesshoumaru alive than she was that he'd bother to save them. Then Inuyasha remembered that this was his half-brother, and that they were supposed to mutually hate each other, and he scowled.

 

“Justh shuth ub and PULL!”

 

Sesshoumaru obliged without a word, hauling them up with a strength that Kagome could not fathom. Where it was coming from, she had no idea.

 

Because it was obvious that Sesshoumaru was dying.

 

Blood trickled down the sides of his face, and his hair was matted with it. His breath came long and painfully labored through his mouth, and his eyes were clouded with a glazed, faraway look. As he dragged them upward Kagome watched his pale face, and she could see that he was battling to keep his eyes focused on them, and his mind focused on this task.

 

It was a battle she could see he was losing.

 

“Inuyasha, let go of me,” she said tightly. “I'll hold on to you. You have to help him, or we won't reach the top.”

 

Inuyasha nodded grimly. His own breath was whistling between his teeth and the sword clamped between them. Kagome tightened her hold, and now he dug his other claws into the rock, pulling himself upward toward his brother. Together, they crested the edge, until at last the four of them slumped over, panting, atop the boulder.

 

Sesshoumaru lay back, resting his head on the stone. His eyes were unreadable as he gazed upward at the cloud of ash above. The jyaki-driven storm from before had cleared. Kagome saw that he had somehow reinserted the demon sword Tokijin back into the sheath at his side, but she no longer felt any malice emanating from it. Once again, having mastered himself before this last act of begrudging loyalty to his brother, he had gained mastery over Tokijin.

 

The rock beneath them began to rumble, and this time it did not stop. At long last, the mountain was going to erupt.

 

“INUYASHA!” Kagome cried. “We have to get out of here NOW!”

 

Inuyasha grunted, rising into a crouch.

 

“I know.”

 

Kagome stole a swift glance around them. The ground was vibrating so badly now that her teeth chattered and her head ached.

 

“Get on my back,” Inuyasha ordered, reinserting Tetsusaiga into its sheath at his hip. “We're going to run for it. . .or die trying.”

 

“Ah . . . no . . .”

 

Both heads---black and white---turned at the soft whisper of voice.

 

Sesshoumaru lay still and calm, like a dead man, but his lips had moved.

 

“Take . . . sword,” he whispered.

 

Inuyasha went utterly still at the sound of that voice. Kagome, who had just climbed onto his back, felt his uncertainty in the stiffness of his shoulders. Sesshoumaru's breath had become so quiet that steam no longer drifted from his lips into the sulfurous air around them.

 

Then, abruptly, Inuyasha rose to his feet.

 

“We'll go,” he said brusquely, still staring down at the pale form lying on the rock.

 

But Kagome could hear the thickness in his voice, and felt a lump gathering in her own throat.

 

“Inu . . .” she began. But she stopped short; he had just shaken his head sharply.

 

“We have to hurry,” he cut her off. “We'll leave him. He's dying anyway.”

 

Kagome was shaking so badly that she knew she wouldn't have been able to stand had he set her on her feet. She was terrified for her life. The ground was heaving now as if it would never be still again. Kirara, who was pressed between Kagome's chest and Inuyasha's back, was unconscious. There would be no more transforming, and no swift ride out of this hell of stone and fire. Even if they should run, with Inuyasha's demon speed . . . even then . . . the place could blow at any instant.

 

“It won't make any difference, Inuyasha,” she whispered raggedly into his furry, singed ear. “Take his sword. It's what he wants.”

 

Inuyasha drew in a swift, shaky breath. Then he knelt to take the sword Tenseiga from its scabbard at his brother's side. In order to do so, he had to reach across Sesshoumaru's broken, battered form. As he did so, Kagome thought she heard his breath catch, but she couldn't see his face and it might have been Sesshoumaru's breath catching. Or it might have been the fissures of steam, rising through the cracks appearing suddenly beneath their feet.

 

As Inuyasha's one free hand closed around Tenseiga's hilt and drew it free of its scabbard, a pale hand clamped over his like a vise, clasping both sword-hilt and hand against the bloodstained chest. Alarmed, Inuyasha tried to pull free, to loosen the sword from Sesshoumaru's grasp. When that didn't work, he tugged sharply to free his hand, intending to leave the sword behind.

 

But Sesshoumaru would not let him go. Nails sharp as needles, sank into the back of Inuyasha's hand, pinning it to the sword, which in turn he held close against his chest with unnatural, iron strength.

 

“What are you doing?” Inuyasha hissed, letting go of Kagome's leg in order to attempt to pry himself loose with his other hand. “Why are you doing this?”

 

One second passed. Then two. Sesshoumaru said nothing. And the white claws did not release their hold.

 

Inuyasha's breath came in quick pants now with the strain of tension. If he could not free himself, they would all die here.

 

“Do you want it to end this way so badly?” he snarled suddenly, lowering his face nearer to his brother's. “We'll die the White Brothers, here, on the mountain! The fucking White Brothers! And Naraku will win. And he'll deserve to win, because we were too fucking weak to save ourselves!” He paused, breathing hard, angry beyond measure.

 

Sesshoumaru's gaze shifted, coming to rest upon his brother's face. His eyes were strangely beautiful; luminous and deep. There was no savagery left in them. Kagome held her breath.

 

Inuyasha's head lowered further, as if he, too, were trying to fathom what lay in the white demon's heart at this moment.

 

“Do you hate me . . . that much?” he whispered.

 

The ground beneath them all began to crack and shift. Small geysers of steam rose around them; between them.

 

And Sesshoumaru opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Don't . . . fight . . .” he breathed. “Trust . . .”

 

The ground beneath them heaved mightily.

 

And then the rock exploded, and they were swallowed in a column of fire.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Even from the snow-covered streets of the city, in the sheltered valley beyond the mountains to the east, he could see the fire from Reiyama. It pierced the night in a violent, upward jet, like a red sword stabbing skyward. It thickened, becoming a pillar, exploding so high and straight that it disappeared into the dark clouds circling that place.

 

Asano-o-sama, king of the Tatesei, stood upon the stone terrace of the palace, on the side which overlooked the lake behind the city. The orange light from the distance reflected in the lake's surface, which was broken and distorted into countless tiny shards of water because the earth was shaking beneath it.

 

`The mountain has erupted,' he thought, wondering what this meant. He knew nothing of the future that stood to be altered, nor that in that future he was to die in the flood of fire that would spill forth from the mountain. Yet he felt its coming, as surely as if the lava had already washed over him in a hot wave.

 

`Sesshoumaru-sama,' he thought, his eyes reflecting the glow from the fire. `Do you watch? Are you watching us now? Do you stand atop the cliffs of this valley, watching our fate come pouring toward us over the ruins of the mountain?'

 

He thought of the Seer, and how she had looked upon the white demon with such apprehension.

 

Asano's youthful face was smooth, but there was sorrow in his eyes. Deep sorrow. He was sinking in it.

 

`Or are you the one hastening this doom,' he thought, `because we have betrayed you?'

 

“Husband!”

 

A tall, slender woman came rushing onto the terrace, throwing herself into his arms. He did not look at her, though his arms closed automatically around her thin shoulders. She was taller than he was, but fear had bowed her head and she had to lift her face to look at him.

 

“Husband,” she repeated, her voice trembling. He did not have to look down to know that her obsidian eyes, black with the Dragon's taint like his own, were full of desperation.

 

But he, as her king and lord and lover, had only one hope left to give her. . .one last hope for all of them . . .

 

“The guards came to me saying you'd given the order to empty the city,” his queen said, grasping the front of his green robes as if she intended to pull him away from the terrace by force. “But they said you refused to leave. Why? Why won't you flee with your people?”

 

Still he would not look at her. He kept his eyes trained upon the mountain.

 

“A shadow is coming,” he said quietly. “It is the Dragon. I can feel it, searching among us for one who would draw it in . . .”

 

His wife shook her head, pulling back from him a little in horror.

 

“You mean to possess one of us, as you said Irusei-sama believes?”

 

Slowly, Asano shook his head. The gold ornaments in his hair jangled softly.

 

“Irusei is dead,” he said softly. “Either Sesshoumaru-sama has killed him . . . or he has died in the eruption. I can sense that the Dragon is searching for one among us who will draw it in willingly; if Irusei were not dead the Dragon would not be searching for a new avatar. But our people must flee, and they must be made to understand that the Dragon is the one who has brought this upon us. If they fear it, they won't accept possession willingly, and the Dragon can't take their bodies.”

 

His wife was not a shrewd woman, but nevertheless she drew back from him now, knowing instinctively what he intended.

 

“Then why . . . won't you flee?” she whispered. “You can't intend to . . .”

 

“The Dragon wants a human vessel,” Asano interrupted grimly. “If it gains what it wants, it will surely save us from the lava.”

 

“No!” the queen cried.

 

But she was already backing away.

 

“I am king of the Tatesei,” he told her softly. “If I must give this creature what it wants to save my people, then so be it.”

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

It was Shippou who first heard the rush of wind overhead. It wailed between the peaked roofs of the Inu Youkai palace; whistled between the trees in the garden. It was Shippou, with his keen Youkai ears, who first noticed beneath the noise of the gale the fainter rasp of scales on stone.

 

“Something's outside!” he announced at the top of his lungs, scurrying back down the hall from the room where he'd gone fetching blankets.

 

At first, his cry gained little attention. Both Miroku and the Seer had been laid on the cushions in the main hall, close to the fireplace for warmth. Sango was busy tending to them, and she didn't turn around as the Kitsune came running. Jakken heard him, but he was too busy pacing worriedly to care.

 

“Shut up, stupid brat,” he screeched. “I'm trying to think!”

 

Hurriedly, Shippou dumped the blankets he'd brought beside Sango and began tugging on the sleeve of the kimono she'd thrown on to replace her wet clothes.

 

“Hey, there's something out there!” he insisted, peering up at her with wide green eyes. “On the roof.”

 

Sango finally took heed, turning away from the dressing she was applying to Miroku's wound. However, before she could even open her mouth to reply a new distraction burst onto the scene.

 

“RIN!” Jakken wailed. “DON'T BRING AUN INSIDE!”

 

The heads of all parties not lying unconscious by the fire now turned toward the two who had just entered the hall. Rin was approaching them, leading the two-headed steed by a short halter. Aun's claws clinked across the stone floor.

 

“Jakken-sama!” Rin exclaimed, ignoring his protests. “There is a monster circling the palace! We must do something about it!”

 

Sango rose onto her knees, eyes narrowing.

 

“Where did you see it?”

 

One hand was already reaching for her Hiraikoutsu, which wasn't there. She'd taken it off when she'd changed clothes.

 

“It is big!” Rin told her, wide-eyed and pale. “And black, but shining too. It keeps circling the palace.”

 

Shippou was about to ask “What is it?” but then shut his mouth. One glance at Sango's face told him exactly what it was.

 

“Sango!” he cried, tugging worriedly at her sleeve. “You shouldn't go out there. Even Inuyasha was no match for the Dragon!”

 

“Her face!” Jakken exclaimed suddenly, pointing directly at the Seer, who lay to Sango's left. “L-l-l-l-look at her face!”

 

Shippou crept nearer to see what the imp was stuttering about. To his surprise, fire was beginning to gleam through the veins in her face again. And the odd thing was, the phenomenon seemed to be confined solely to her---Sango's face was normal.

 

“He's calling us,” Sango said, tilting her head back and gazing up at the ceiling. “Raiiru is calling us.”

 

“But why isn't your face like hers?” Shippou pressed.

 

“He's searching for a willing host for his spirit,” she replied in a low voice. “But I'm unwilling. She, however . . .” She lowered her head, glancing pointedly at the Seer. “Some part of her must be willing . . .”

 

The Seer's eyes flew open.

 

“Suiton!” Rin dropped Aun's tether and came running to her side. “You must not go!”

 

The woman was attempting to sit up. Sango caught her, however, holding her down with one hand on her shoulder.

 

“Stay,” she warned. “We haven't fought this hard for him to win now.”

 

Suiton's eyes were mad with fear.

 

“I've seen this!” she cried. “I've seen it!” She fought against Sango's restraint with sudden vigor, arching her back and trying to twist sideways out of the demon-slayer's grip.

 

Alarmed, Sango bent over her, pressing more of her weight against the woman's chest and taking hold of her other arm as well.

 

“Someone help me!” she called, casting a brief glance at the others. “She's gotten stronger, and my body's too tired for this.”

 

Overhead, a gale-force wind wailed across the roof, and the Dragon let out a long, reverberating hiss. All present froze, scarcely daring to breathe as they listened. Then Suiton began to struggle again. Tears streamed from her black eyes, soaking into the hair strewn across her face.

 

“We can't fight this!” she cried. “Give me to him, and he'll spare us all!”

 

Rin stood beside her, wringing her small hands in distress.

 

“But Sesshoumaru-sama will save us,” she told the Seer. “Inuyasha-sama too. And Kagome-sama.”

 

The Seer turned toward her, her fire-streaked face contorted in misery.

 

“Sesshoumaru is dead,” she said, in a voice heavy with despair. “His brother killed him. And Inuyasha has been consumed in flame. The skies are now raining fire. Can you keep doubting my vision? The White Brothers are dead, and the world is going to end . . .”

 

Sango slapped her. Hard, across the face.

 

“Be quiet,” she told the woman sharply, still holding her down. “Stop letting your fear of evil make it your master. Raiiru is showing you these things in your mind, isn't he? That's where your visions come from, isn't it?”

 

The Seer went silent for a moment, struck dumb by the blow.

 

“Has it never occurred to you,” Sango pressed, “that the Dragon might be using your predictions to manipulate the future?”

 

The Seer drew in a soft gasp.

 

“My gift . . .” Suiton finally murmured. “It is . . . All Tatesei Seers were the Dragon's children. It must be so . . . And I . . . After the Dragon began to awaken in response to Kagome-sama's possession of the Shikon no Tama, he must have sensed Sesshoumaru-sama's obsession with power through me. And he showed me the Jewel falling into my scrying bowl, because he knew that if Sesshoumaru brought it to me and it came into contact with the ryunochi the bowl was carved from . . . he would then awaken in full.”

 

Sango nodded grimly.

 

“All the more reason not to give him what he wants. We'll find a way to fight this future.” She paused; she felt movement at her back. “What---?”

 

Behind her, Miroku was pushing himself into a sitting position.

 

“Miroku!” Shippou exclaimed tearfully. “You're awake!”

 

The monk didn't reply. His gaze was turned upward; he was listening to the noises overhead. Slowly, pushing himself up one knee at a time, he rose to his feet.

 

“Miroku,” Sango said in a low voice, watching him, “what are you thinking?”

 

“The Dragon's in wraith form right now,” he said quietly. “It isn't wearing Sesshoumaru's flesh.” Absently, one hand brushed across the prayer beads covering the other.

 

It was a gesture Sango didn't fail to notice.

 

“You're not doing this,” she warned him, understanding what he intended. “At least, not without me.”

 

“Sango, please stay inside,” he told her, without looking at her. “We don't know what this thing is capable of, and you're injured.”

 

“You too!” she argued, temper flaring.

 

“Stay,” Miroku said firmly. “I can't risk having you nearby; you might be drawn in. I want you to find somewhere in this place to anchor yourselves. Hide yourselves. Especially her.” He nodded toward the Seer.

 

He seemed much steadier on his feet than Sango had anticipated . . . or, at least, adept at ignoring the pain.

 

“I won't leave you to do this by yourself!” she snapped.

 

Then there came a loud crack from overhead.

 

Shippou jumped and let out a squawk.

 

“Th-th-th-the DRAGON!” Jakken stammered, cowering behind his Staff of Heads, which he was holding in front of him like a shield. “It's going to come through the roof!”

 

Sango gritted her teeth; this was bad. Though he was a wraith, apparently Raiiru's body was just solid enough to crack stone.

 

“Jakken, Rin,” she said, turning abruptly to face them. “Is there anywhere to hide in this place? Any underground passageways?”

 

Rin and Jakken exchanged glances.

 

“One,” Jakken replied, in a tone oddly hushed. “It leads to caves in the mountains just northeast of here.”

 

Sango stared at him; he looked a bit sad. But they didn't have time to indulge his reluctance.

 

“Can you lead them there?” Miroku asked him. “You won't be safe here for long---from the Dragon or from me.”

 

Sango rounded on him to protest, but the movement set her head reeling. To her frustration, Miroku caught her before she could stumble. She was surprised how strong the urge was to keep standing her, with his hands on her shoulders, but another reverberating crack from above forbade hesitation. She lifted her head, straightening, and saw that he was smiling down at her.

 

“It will be all right,” he told her. “Just go. I'll keep the Dragon from following you; right now they need you to lead them to safety.”

 

Sango swallowed hard and nodded.

 

“Once we get down into the passageway, we can ride Aun,” Rin volunteered. “They will fit; the tunnel is large.”

 

Sango nodded briskly.

 

“Very well. Can Aun carry all of us?”

 

“I can walk!” Shippou offered gallantly.

 

“You can go ahead of us and conjure foxfire to light our way,” Sango told him. He nodded seriously. His face was pale, but he seemed proud to be of use. “Now, where's the passage?” she asked, turning to Jakken.

 

The imp sighed, rubbing at his nonexistent eyebrows as if opting for the tunnel pained him greatly.

 

“Follow me,” he said.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Miroku strode quickly down the empty halls, robes billowing about his legs. His right hand was clenched into a fist so tightly around his prayer beads that they left indentations in his fingers. His left trailed along the stone wall; he was extremely dizzy and feverish, and was trying not to faint. He had left his staff in the great hall; it wasn't going to be any help given what he intended to do. His staggering gait was swift, however awkward, and his course undeviating. He soon reached the end of the hall, and slid aside two door panels carved with white cranes.

 

He paused on the threshold, panting.

 

At first he thought he had been unconscious for a whole day, and now it was night again. Then he realized that what he was seeing wasn't the pitch blackness of an unlit garden at night, but the dark coils of the Dragon flowing past the doorway.

 

`It must have wrapped itself around the whole palace,' he realized, staggered. He hadn't imagined it would be so huge. He couldn't even see top or bottom of the coil---all he saw were rows of silver-black scales.

 

`I should try to get outside to do this,' he thought, swiping at the sweat on his brow. `If I try to pull it into my hand from inside the palace it will end up breaking this place apart, and I'll be crushed before I can draw it in fully.'

 

Leaving the doorway, Miroku stumbled back down the hall, searching for a room where he couldn't see black out the window. The last one he tried had no window, but its contents gave him an idea. He could see by the dim light from the hallway torches that the place was full of weapons. Swords and shields, axes and daggers, arrowheads and halberds, all stacked on shelves or mounted on sconces like someone's collection. He lifted down an axe and swung it at the wooden wall. If he could hack a hole large enough to squeeze through, he might be able to find a place where the dragon's coils didn't block his way.

 

Weak as he was, his swing only made a dent in the wood. The walls were thick; it would take a supreme amount of strength to penetrate them . . . unless he swung with something heavier. Miroku dropped the axe and caught up a halberd. It was far heavier, and his muscles burned as he lifted it, but he gritted his teeth and swung it anyway. It clove a great crack in the wood, vertically long enough for him to slip through. He could see faint light filtering in from outside; there was an opening, if only he could reach it.

 

But to reach it, he was going to have to widen the crack considerably, and this meant swinging sideways with the halberd---a task that seemed near impossible. His arms were shaking. He struck slantwise, and the crack widened a bit. But it was nowhere near enough. He could tell this was going to take multiple tries to work.

 

`But why is the Dragon still determined its prey is here?' he wondered as he labored. `It came here in the first place because it sensed two of the hanryu were here . . . But they should be gone by now . . .'

 

He lifted the halberd over his head to give extra momentum to his next strike, but this time the weight was too much for him. He started to topple backwards.

 

Strong arms caught the blade before it could descend, and he found himself stumbling against someone standing behind him.

 

That someone had breasts.

 

“You're a fool to think I'd leave you like this,” Sango murmured into his ear.

 

“Nice and soft,” Miroku remarked. His ear was tingling.

 

Sango made a faint chuffing sound of irritation and clasped both her hands more firmly around the halberd's handle, just above his.

 

“We'll swing together,” she said.

 

And they did.

 

The crack did not merely widen; an entire section of the wall of approximately one-yard radius shattered, showering splinters outward onto the terrace. They dropped the halberd and crawled through it, emerging into what appeared to be the freezing crack of dawn.

 

Immediately, Miroku realized that something was Very Wrong.

 

“Why can we see the dawn?” Sango asked, echoing his thoughts. “Where has the Dragon gone?”

 

The dark coils were gone; in their place was the view of the garden, touched gently by a wan morning light gleaming between the mountains. Miroku fell from his knees to his rear end, splaying both hands behind him on the terrace.

 

“Why has it left us?” he mused. “If it has given up on you, Sango, it must have gone after the Seer . . . but . . .”

 

“. . . we would still see it if that were the case,” Sango finished for him, picking splinters out of her bangs. “It would have been tracking their progress through the passageway from overhead, which goes east.” She pointed across the garden; despite the ashy cloud hovering over the mountains, there was no sign of the Dragon there. “But what could have lured it away from the palace so swiftly?”

 

“Then . . . it may have gone west.” Miroku started, rising onto his knees again in alarm. “Sango, if it has found you and Suiton-sama unwilling vessels . . . and it's left this fast . . . It may have found a willing vessel elsewhere . . .”

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Asano stood upon the stone bridge by the lack, watching the fury of the mountain unfold. The air above it, and above the Tatesei Valley, was swathed in a black curtain of ash, but he could still see the liquid flame beginning to pour down toward the city. It filtered through the crevices in the slope, pooling and splashing and oftentimes simply flowing over the obstacles in its path that it could not burn.

 

Reiyama, the city of the Tatesei, was going to burn.

 

Then he tilted back his head, squinting against the black snow because he'd seen something moving. It was coming toward him, dipping into the valley and flying down toward the lake.

 

“Raiiru-o-sama!” he cried, lifting his arms in supplication. “Come fill me!”

 

And the shadow twisted, fixing his small figure with the pinpoint gleam of its eyes. The long forked tongue flickered, tasting the air and reveling in the scent of destruction. For a moment it hung poised in mid-air over the water; the Dragon had wrought this catastrophe, and was savoring it.

 

Then it made straight for him.

 

{END OF CHAPTER 18}

 

Yamisui: . . .where it took over his body and stopped the lava flow and the Tatesei made a fortune starting up their own casino chain. The deaths of Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru, and Kagome were tragic but unavoidable. The End.