InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Shots ❯ The Dead Wind ( One-Shot )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Kagura.

Even the idea of her name was enough to make her laugh insanely. A dance. Something enjoyable.

Happiness.

Prosperity.

“Lies .”

She hissed silently through her teeth, glaring down at her forearms as she leaned against the wall.

Bruises, cuts, slits graced them. She felt herself smile. And it was empty. Nothing mattered to her.

Except her winter, Kanna. White hair, black eyes, the size of a child... a pre-teen at best. Her hair was silken, and she was silent. Her melodic voice was lost to time.

As if time meant something....

Time was only a silent killer... and as time went on, the more you slowly died.

Inside and outside.

Time was a hoax, a paradox, a catch twenty-two everyone lived off of.

Something that didn't matter to her because for all she knew she could and very well might be dead tomorrow.

Didn't ronin live as if their day was their last day?

Die an honorable death.

What a fucking joke.

Kagura slid down the wall, the dim room enclosing her in a comfortable darkness that embraced her and hid her marks.

It hid the truth.

She began to feel her eyes slowly close... the light flickered, causing quick bursts of white behind her eyelids... but it didn't matter.

Light didn't matter....

Nothing mattered...

The crimson, purest of reds, ruby like... hid behind her eyelids, and tugging her hair free with a flick of the wrist.... pain shot up her arms, but it didn't matter, like everything else... pure black locks fell straight to her shoulders...

If her hair was down, then she really was depressed... having it up, exposing her face... like a sophisticated, normal teenager... like an inborn lady... gave her a sense of pride. Most individuals in her situation hid themselves behind it.

And now she was hiding.

Like a coward.

Like she didn't have any uniqueness. Like she wasn't special. Like she wasn't different.

She was just a face in the crowd.

And as much as she could stand tall, talk loud, and be proud... she would be nothing but tied down... trapped. Lost in a reality.

And the reality was no one gave a shit about her except Kanna.

Slowly she crossed her legs in front of her chest, closing her eyes tightly, willing the tears away. She willed the pain away, she willed the truth away.

She cautiously lifted her hands to cover her ears over her soft hair... the softness mocked her, as she felt the cuts begin to bleed again and slide down her hair as if it were cords on a violin. The blood played her a song as it pounded like a war drum in her head, the ringing beginning in her ears as a static took hold of her mind and screamed at her to wake up and smell the roses. She was already dead, and... well, now it didn't fucking matter, did it, Kagura?!

It doesn't fucking matter because, haha, you're dead!

Death becomes you, death is you, and death is all around your pretty little head!

...shut up...

Death is your silence, death is your solace, and death is the best daydream you ever had!

...Shut up...

To take that pretty little razor and take it to the blemished skin, and a knick and two and it'll be over. You already have enough slits to bleed yourself dry, what's more now?

Shut UP...

And it'll be beautiful poetry, to lay down white as snow, eyes closed and a fabled reasoning. Leave everyone guessing, what could have made her do it when she had the perfect family?

SHUT UP...

But see, that will be the mystery of it, and the beauty. And you shall be an enigma, and everyone will remember you just like you wanted them to.

SHUT UP!

You shall be a legend, a mark on society, a memory of what the world is coming to and the truth of it all.

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP! FUCKING SHUT UP!

And the best part... it will be an honorable death because you will be forcing those mindless ants to realize what despair and agony the world is ignoring.

“...shut up...”

Her voice came out trembling, broken and shattered... usually she had control of these feelings. The voices that urged her to do what she so wanted to do...

But if she did, Kanna would be alone.

And that is why she couldn't. And refused to.

Kanna needed her, she needed someone to love her as desperately as she herself needed. And that is probably why they loved each other so fiercely; and perhaps in all the wrong ways.

“KANNA!”

Kagura's head bolted up at her `father's' enraged voice, fear taking hold of her. Her `father' was drunk again. Which meant her `father' was in the mood again.

Which also meant Kanna was hiding again.

Kagura shuddered involuntarily, resisting a strong urge to vomit upon the floor... for if she did, she'd be in for a hell of a beating. Shakily, she climbed to her knees, pressed her ear against the wall as she listened to Naraku stumbling around in the living room. Sounds of breaking glass was heard as she knew he was tripping into things...

She remembered when she was Kanna's age, Naraku liked to drag her into the bedroom by the hair, and have his way with her. That was about five years ago, but now Kagura was too old... that was what he said. Now she was just there so he could watch the two together, or so he could beat the shit out of her.

Quite a few times nearly until she died.

She laid bleeding on the floor in front of the television, as he plopped on the couch and turned on football with a beer in his hand. Her traumatized sister would stand in the corner, scared to move, but wanting to rush to her side.

After about twenty minutes, Naraku would get pissed and tell her to clean up the mess... so Kanna would literally drag her down the hall, into her bedroom.

Kanna had learned from Kagura how to stitch using regular needle and thread, and use alcohol to clean the wounds. Kanna had saved her life twice.

And Kanna was eleven years old.

Kagura rose to her feet, rushing to her door and cracking it open the slightest. Her father had overturned the coffee table, apparently searching for Kanna... but she was right in front of him... was he so wasted he couldn't see her white hair?

Naraku then grabbed Kanna's chin, tilting his head downward and shoving his tongue in her mouth forcefully.

Stop watching, stop watching...

But she couldn't help herself...

She couldn't help but watch the torment her `father' gave her half-sister, knowing she was helpless to stop it.

One thing that soothed her so very little was knowing her father barely beat her. Kanna was so submissive, so cool, so subservient to Naraku that he was lenient on her.

She watched as he pulled away quickly to hurl into the trash can near the couch... it was his vomit bucket. Naraku was the lowest, dirtiest form of scum there was.

Kagura sneered at the thought, cold tears in her eyes as she remained steadfast at her door.

Naraku grabbed Kanna by the throat, throwing her down upon the ground... down upon the broken beer bottles.

Kanna cried out, and he kicked her for it.

Twice, in her ribs.

Kagura heard a crack, and winced, closing her eyes and choking back a sob.

Naraku ripped off her dress that held on to Kanna's form feebly.

At that point, he threw himself upon her... they were inbetween the coffee table and the couch, so Kagura could not see... but she could hear Kanna's agonized cries as he pounded her tight flesh in to the broken glass.

Kagura clawed at her bedroom door, feeling her shoulders strain and tighten, and tears began to run down her cheeks.

Brushing at them furiously, she attempted to steel herself against as her sister's pained screams rang throughout the house.

But they tore at her soul, ripped the broken pieces further to shreds, and Kagura knew... one day...

She's be dancing.

But it'd be the Dance of the Dead, and of a non-existent soul.