InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ My Heart, Rest In Pieces ❯ Blood Runs Cold ( Chapter 5 )

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I heard this line one time
`Bout trying to save the world.
But have you ever tried
To save yourself?
Def Leppard “Blood Runs Cold”

Sango tucked her bare feet under her body, hugging a pillow to her chest loosely. She was curled up in the corner of the beige loveseat, downstairs in the sitting room.

After overcoming her initial shock at the ghost's rapid appearance and subsequent disappearance, Sango had tried calling out to him, attempting to convince him to reappear. Her shouts went unheard or ignored, echoing dully off the empty walls in vacant rooms. She had not felt frightened by the spirit; maybe a little violated, but not frightened in the least. She continued searching upstairs until she heard the front door open, signaling Kagome's return. All she'd discovered was more dust bunnies.

Kagome had been shocked by Sango's dazed appearance, and realized immediately that something had happened in her absence. The girls had moved into the living room, where Sango recounted every last detail of her paranormal encounter.

She now worried the edge of the pillow with her fingernails, looking to Kagome for a response. Kagome's reaction was to take a deep breath, organizing her thoughts before responding.

“And he was gone? Just like that?”

Sango sighed wistfully. “Just like that.”

Kagome frowned in thoughtful silence for a moment, finally shaking her head in disbelief. “Sango, that whole ordeal…it just doesn't make any sense.” Sango tensed, reacting defensively.

“Are you implying that I imagined this whole event?” she asked incredulously, dropping the pillow and squeezing her hands into fists. “Because I can assure you, I did not just dream this whole thing up!”

“That's not what I'm implying at all.” Kagome's voice took on a dry tone “I just think we should look at this logically before we call in Mulder and Scully—”

“Look, Kagome, I know what happened; I know what I saw! I didn't make up this levitation, and I didn't imagine that ghost,” Sango stated defiantly.

“Of course not,” Kagome agreed, touching her friend's shoulder. “I'm not doubting what happened to you. I'm just questioning the ghost's motives. Nothing seems to make sense.”

Calmed for the moment, Sango asked with curiosity, “What do you mean?”

“Well, for instance, why would the ghost burn you, grope you, and then save you. In that order, I might add.” Kagome gave her an expectant look. “All of those seem so contradictory towards one another.”

Sango blushed. “Well, the whole groping thing could have been accidental.”

“That's not what you told me earlier.” Kagome grinned.

The pink-cheeked girl shook her head. “That's beside the point.” She paused. “Uh…what were we talking about, again?”

Kagome laughed out loud, taking the pillow from her friend and whacking the other girl over the head with it. The stuffing made a soft thump as it connected with her skull.

“Hey!” Sango protested, batting the pillow away and kicking her friend, who was seated beside her on the couch.

“Stop that!” Kagome kicked back, giggling.

Before an all-out, barroom brawl could break out, Sango said, “Wait, wait! We've gone off-topic.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.”

Sango smacked her friend with the pillow a final time, before continuing. “I think we need to find out more about the ghost first.”

Kagome's smile waned, before disappearing altogether. “And we need to find out what the heck Kikyou was doing here.” This statement jolted Sango's memory.

“That's right! I noticed something odd while I was exploring upstairs,” Sango recalled. “I noticed that it was extremely dusty. There was mold in the bathroom, too.”

“Ew.”

“If Kikyou was keeping this place up for Sesshoumaru, she did a real piss-poor job on the second floor.”

Kagome giggled. “Piss-poor?”

“My dad used to say it,” she explained with a shrug, falling silent. A melancholy look passed over her eyes, as memories bubbled to the surface of her consciousness, surfacing with a painful pop. Bouts of sadness crept upon her at the oddest moments, catching her off-guard and continuously throwing her for a loop. She hated how small, insignificant events could make hot tears sneak behind her eyes. She could have long conversations about death without flinching, but little things obliterated her equilibrium.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Kagome asked gently.

Sango swallowed.

“No,” she said flatly.

“I think it would help—”

“Would you just drop it!” Sango snapped, turning her head away, but not missing the wounded look that graced her friend's expression. She immediately felt guilty, and struggled against the lump in her throat to find words that would make Kagome understand.

It was quiet for a long moment. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees, and Sango hugged her arms around her abdomen. She finally spoke.

“My dad,” she began, looking at the floor. She felt Kagome's head turn to look at her. “He, uh…remember how he used to talk? He didn't like cursing in front of us…so he would try and catch himself. It was always funny when he'd accidentally let one slip…” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Kagome took over the story. “He would look so guilty. Like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar or something.”

Sango finally looked up. Her eyes were bright, but dry. She laughed. “Yeah. And he would apologize to us. Even when we were older and exposed to far worse language from jerks at school.”

The girls smiled at one another for several seconds, happy that they had smoothed things over. Both girls, Sango especially, had a penchant for secrecy and independence. They didn't like showing things close to the heart, things that would give them pain to reveal. Kagome, however, had a habit of prying things out of people; things they might not want to share. They often butted heads over certain situations, but feuds between them were short-lived.

But Sango didn't really feel better after confessing to Kagome. She felt as though she'd only shared her story to placate the other girl, rather than to heal her own wounds. She shrugged off her dark frame of mind as best she could.

“I'm sorry for snapping at you,” Sango admitted with a rueful smile.

Kagome winked. “What are friends for?”

“So…what's the plan for tonight?” Sango switched gears, swiping at her dry cheeks pointlessly.

Kagome's countenance visibly changed with her darkening mood. “I think we should find out what Kikyou was doing over here. That might explain some things.”

Sango watched her friend silently for a beat, coming to an internal conclusion. She said, “We should probably save that for tomorrow. I mean, interrogation would require that we return to town. Again.” Sango chose her next words carefully. “We should probably ask Inuyasha about her…”

“What?” Kagome screeched. “Sango, are you nuts? You saw the way he reacted before! I doubt he'd tell us anything. And it's not like they're together now, or anything. Why should he know about what she's been up to?”

“Kagome,” Sango said, her tone calming, “it's the logical thing to do.” She chewed on her tongue for a moment, pensive. “I think you're reacting this way because you identify with Inuyasha. You feel empathetic towards his experience. I think you just…don't want to hurt him.”

“Well, Sango, we can add pop-psychology to your repertoire of achievements,” Kagome said bitingly, but her cheeks flamed up and she refused to meet Sango's eyes.

Sango wisely kept quiet, letting the incident slide. “Well, in any case, we can figure out Kikyou's motives tomorrow. Today—” she looked at the rapidly darkening skies through the windows in the foyer. “—er…tonight, we should concentrate on that door.” She pointed to the huge wooden door responsible for the tender, raw skin on the palm of her hand.

“Good idea.”

“Although it still doesn't explain why I encountered the ghost upstairs…”

“Sango!” Kagome admonished. “We can work all that out later. We still have some investigating to do. Besides, we were downstairs when we were first exposed to paranormal phenomenon.”

“Lead on, Macduff.” Sango made a sweeping arc with her arms, motioning for her friend to go on ahead.

Kagome rolled her eyes and muttered something about misquoted Shakespeare.

..:X:..

“Just do it!”

“But what if it burns through?”

“Stop being a baby, Kagome!”

“I'm not being a baby. I'm just being practical!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Sango declared, ripping the thick towel from around Kagome's hand. She began spinning it around her palm and fingers.

“Hey! I would've tried eventually,” Kagome protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at her impatient friend.

“Yeah, but we'd be old and gray by the time your `eventually' came!” She finished wrapping her hand, and then turned towards the “cursed” door. Facing Sango's back, Kagome stuck her tongue out with childish petulance.

Refusing to hesitate and face the mocking of her best friend, Sango reached out with a steady, albeit towel-laden, hand and grabbed the doorknob as best she could.

There was no burning through the towel, no sizzling of cooked flesh, no sickly sweet smoke. The girls let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, and Kagome let out a nervous laugh. Sango bit on her tongue to keep from shuddering. She ignored the goose bumps popping up along her arms, instead concentrating at the task at hand. She chalked up the sudden chill to excited apprehension.

She turned the knob without any resistance.

“It's not locked,” Sango breathed, amazed. She leaned into the door, holding the air in her chest tightly.

It didn't budge.

“C'mon Sango. Stop keeping me in suspense,” Kagome teased, but her voice wavered slightly with anticipation.

“I…can't,” Sango huffed out while she began pushing her whole weight into the door, her feet sliding on the floor with the strength of her exertions. “It's…stuck.”

“Have you tried pulling?” Kagome's expression was deadpan.

Sango thought it was unlikely that such a large door in such a small space would open towards the room, but she gave it her best shot. She leaned back with her entire body and even tried gaining leverage by pushing her feet against the wall. Still, it would not budge.

“If you have any more bright ideas, I'd love to hear them.” Sango released the doorknob. The towel hung limply in her grasp. She didn't want to complain, but her injured hand was throbbing unbearably. The raw skin was stretched tight, and it felt like it was on fire.

“Maybe there's something behind the door, blocking it,” Kagome suggested, resting a tentative hand against the wood. She raised a fist and knocked with intrepid gumption.

“What're you doing?”

“Shhhh. Listen.”

She knocked once more, and the hollow sound echoed throughout the otherwise silent house.

“Did you hear that echo?” Kagome inquired. “There's nothing behind that door but air. My guess is that…”

Kagome continued talking, but her friend was too preoccupied. Sango's body felt as though it had been submerged in a chilly ice bath, until only the agonizing heat in her hand remained. Her breathing was labored, and she ignored the panicky palpitations of her heart. A soothing, watery feeling spread along her injured skin, cooling the angry nerves. She dimly realized Kagome was grabbing her arms and shaking her. Kagome's hands felt shockingly warm against her frozen flesh.

“Sango! Sango, what's going on? What's happening?”

She began to feel warmth seeping into her weary bones. She lifted her hand and gazed at the cool, pale flesh as she opened and closed her fingers.

“The ghost healed me.”

“Sang—what? Why?” Kagome sounded shaken-up.

She lifted her shoulders. “I don't know.”

Suddenly the chilliness was back, and this time it pressed ominously against them from all sides, pushing against their lungs like a great weight and suffocating them. There was a terrible scratching noise, and then a wailing screech. When they looked up, the girls saw a message had been carved into the great wooden door:

`Next time I won't be so forgiving.'

A/N: Ominous.

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