InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Mothers of the Disappeared ❯ Oneshot ( Chapter 1 )

Half-blinded by tears, Midori ran through the forest at a breakneck pace, heedless of the brambles tearing at her legs. Her white kimono, still drenched in the sweat and blood of birth, clung to her like a second skin. She stumbled yet again, but she never took her eyes off the thing in the sky, the thing that had stolen all that was left of her precious daughter.

No one else had seen it, not even the midwife, but Midori had always been able to see things others could not. So when the pale, eel-like apparition had appeared and snatched away the glowing soul of the dead newborn child in her arms, Midori had ignored the pleas of the women in the birthing room and followed, desperate to save her daughter's soul.

Midori had been running for an hour now through the youkai-infested woods, and some part of her knew that she couldn't keep this up forever, but she paid no mind. She was running on pure instinct and adrenaline, still riding the natural high that only comes to women immediately following childbirth. This was her first child, and perhaps if it had been her third or fourth, she would have let it go. But with her first, she had not yet accepted the harsh truth of the world, the truth of loss. And so she ran.

Overhead, the white eel apparition was joined by three more like it, and Midori saw them descend into the trees below, just beyond the meadow ahead of her. She clutched a tenbin with shaking hands; it was the only thing even close to a weapon that she could find in her haste. With renewed determination, Midori broke through the tree line.

She suddenly slammed into something soild and smooth that that knocked the breath out of her. She couldn't see anything in front of her, so she stepped forward again, only to be knocked back once more. Some sort of barrier had been formed, and Midori peered into the forest to see what it was protecting.

Not twenty paces ahead of her, a woman lay cradled in the branches of an ancient maple tree. Midori could see the soul-stealers twining about her, offering up the souls of daughters and mothers, sisters and wives, which glowed brightly until they disappeared into the strange woman's body. This beautiful monster lounging in the tree -- for surely it could not be a woman, reasoned Midori -- was robed in the garb of a miko. Midori gasped when she recognized the woman as Kikyo, a wandering miko who had spent several days in her village.

When Midori saw Kikyo absorbing the stolen souls, she lost all thought for her own safety and flung herself desperately at the barrier, again and again, dislocating a shoulder, breaking her nose, sobbing uncontrollably. With the last of her energy, Midori hurled the tenbin at the barrier, and it broke in half and fell softly to the leaf-littered ground. With a keening cry of despair, Midori collapsed to her knees.

"Kikyo!" she cried out.

The woman in the tree finally turned her cold gaze to the young mother. "Woman, why are you here?" she asked.

Midori raised her eyes to glare at Kikyo. "You stole my daughter," she ground out through gritted teeth.

Kikyo raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Stole? I do not steal the souls of the living. Your daughter was gone before I called her soul to join me."

"You stole her! You stole any chance she had at another life," Midori said, sobbing. The pain she felt at her daughter's death was nothing compared to the emptiness that filled her now, knowing that her daughter's soul would wither and die to feed this monster. "Please, let her go, I beg of you."

"I will do no such thing," Kikyo replied coldly.

"Then...then I will kill you," whispered Midori. "If it's the last thing I do, I will hunt you down and release the souls you imprison."

The woman in the tree laughed mirthlessly, sending cold shivers down Midori's spine. "You cannot slay me, for I am already dead."

Midori rose from the ground and held Kikyo in her unwavering gaze. "Then, Kikyo, I shall do everything in my power to ensure that your undeserved life is spent in misery. Everywhere you go, every village you visit, I will be right behind you, and I will cry out to all the world to tell them what you are. I will haunt your very steps until there is not a place left in all of Nippon for you to rest. All shall know your name as a curse, and none will welcome you into their homes. You will regret the day you chose to steal the soul of Midori's daughter."

Kikyo was not pleased. While she didn't care for the living -- they simply served to remind her of her own death -- she oftentimes found herself drawn to village life, taking comfort in simple conversations with villagers or a hot meal at an inn. If this Midori wasn't bluffing, she might very well take away what little comfort Kikyo had left in this cold, unfriendly world. Kikyo called her soul-stealers to lift her from the tree and set her gently on the ground, where she picked up her bow and quiver. Dropping the barrier, Kikyo strode over to where the exhausted woman had collapsed, panting on the ground.

"You will not," Kikyo said. "I cannot allow you to sully my name. I have business left to attend to in this world, and I need no more obstacles." She nocked an arrow and aimed carefully at the woman below her. Midori made no effort to escape, and the arrow flew true to its mark, sinking deep into Midori's right shoulder.

Still, she did not scream. Midori's eyes filled with tears as she spoke in a harsh whisper. "Her name was Aiko." Kikyo frowned. She drew another arrow and fired again, this time hitting Midori in the left shoulder.

"She was so active, the midwife was sure it would be a boy. For months, her kicks would awaken me in the middle of the night," Midori whispered. Kikyo's eyes narrowed. Why wouldn't this woman just give up and die?

"Woman, your tactics will not work on me. I will not release your daughter's soul."

Midori coughed -- a course, wet sound -- and blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth. "But she kicked the most when she heard her father's voice. She knew him, even before she was born." Midori's eyes glazed over, as though she was looking right through Kikyo.

Kikyo had had enough. She nocked a final arrow and pulled back with all her strength, releasing it with a soft curse. The arrow struck Midori right between the eyes, and she was suddenly silent.

One of the soul-stealers drifted above the body, and when the bright glow of Midori's soul emerged, the soul-stealer grasped the soul in its spindly legs and floated up to offer it to Kikyo. Kikyo smiled when she felt the soul's energy merge with her body. She turned her smile toward a particular tree a few paces away and gazed up into its branches.

"Will you not come and speak with me, Inuyasha?" she asked.

The hanyou remained in the tree, silent. Kikyo laughed. "Does something trouble you? Does it upset you to see me taking the souls of the living to maintain my own cursed life?"

"Why, Kikyo? Why are you filled with such hatred? Why do you slaughter the innocent and steal the souls of babes?" Inuyasha's voice was low and pained, so low Kikyo could barely hear him. He thought he saw a shadow of regret pass over her eyes, but as soon as it was there, it was gone. Inuyasha was left to wonder if he'd imagined it in the first place, to allay his own guilt over Kikyo's pained existence.

"This is all your doing, Inuyasha. If you would but embrace me and descend into hell with me, all of this pain and suffering would end. How does it feel, Inuyasha, to have the blood of an innocent on your hands?"

High in the branches of the tree, Inuyasha trembled, but he could not answer. Kikyo didn't speak a word as she called her soul-stealers to lift her into the sky, and Inuyasha watched until she disappeared beyond the horizon.

He cursed his own cowardice. Why couldn't he end it all? Why couldn't he fulfill his promise to her? His thoughts immediately turned to the bright-eyed young girl who was his reason for living. He growled and headed back toward camp. He would say nothing of this to Kagome. She would surely hate him if she knew he was the cause of so much pain, and Inuyasha didn't think he could bear any more hatred.