InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sacrifice ❯ Chapter 1

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

By: Ferabi

Sacrifice

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

It’s not always rainbows and butterflies
It’s compromise that moves us along
- Maroon 5

1.

Trenches of dirt ploughed up by Hiraikotsu radiated around the spot where they stood; the rocks which poked through the grass showed ash-white crescent scars of his kusari-gama. Both weapons lay well out of reach. The chain had wrapped tight around the throwing weapon, the point of the sickle still embedded in its face.

They faced each other, in the battle dress of their people: girl and boy, sister and brother, demon slayer and human slayer.

Kohaku had not come here to fight; Sango would not know what task of Naraku her brother had been doing that brought him to cross her path. At this moment, all he had wanted was to escape her, to return to Naraku, but she would not allow it. She was stripped of her weapons but not her aggression, for as he turned to run she tackled him, sending both of them tumbling through the grass. Naraku would not have him again, not this time, not any time after, and if he must be beaten unconscious, if he must be killed, this would be done.

She threw him onto his back, his arms at his sides, and she straddled him. Her knees pinned his hands to the ground. For a moment, the meadow was silent except for their breathing: heavy and hard and accentuated with painful, coughing swallows of acrid saliva. There was the soft sound of steel on cypress as she drew her wakisashi, the blade resonant and ringing for a brief moment, and the hilt was in her hand with the blade pointed downward, and she spread her left hand, and placed the spine of the blade against the webbing between thumb and forefinger, and she steadied the weapon as the point hovered above his heart. There would be resistance. The blade was sharp, and would cut the taijiya uniform with little effort, but once it bit into his chest she would need to place both hands on the hilt and put all her weight against it to penetrate the sternum. He would suffer tremendously as the steel cut into him, but if she pierced his heart in a single strike, with certainty, without hesitation, his pain would be brief, his relief eternal.

Or is it only I who will be relieved by his death? He does not suffer. He does not feel anything at all. In his brief moments of lucidity, in the few instances I have seen him begin to recover his memories, his grief drives him to Naraku, to wipe his mind clean again.

“Kohaku,” she whispered, the word taking with it any strength she had to wield her sword against him. The point scraped against the cloth of his shirt, and she threw it aside.

"Why . . . why does your pain drive you to Naraku's mind-numbing poisons?"

She took his head in her hands, forced his vacant eyes to meet hers, and brought her face as close to his as she dared.

"Why can't your pain drive you to me?"

A slight glimmer, perhaps imagined, a softening of his face, a vague recognition. Yet another minuscule fragment of her brother that broke through Naraku's enchantment. Yet another piece of heartbreak rationed to her, an insignificant morsel of her brother's love callously cast to a begging and starving Sango.

She could have known peace if only she were able to cast these things aside, but instead she leaned down and kissed him.

Will I breathe life into him, or will he breathe death into me?

At the moment her lips touched his she could claim the kiss innocent and sisterly, but a second passed, and another, and when she felt his hands touch her shoulders she did not fear, but rejoice. To feel his physical reaction to her love she would accept anything, even his hands gripping her tightly, even his mouth opening beneath hers, even his tongue touching her lips.

It was not the first time her brother had driven her to madness, and certainly not the last. Sango turned her head, and opened her mouth, and brother and sister touched their tongues together, tentatively at first, and then circling each other, and Sango shivered and blushed as a moan escaped her throat.

The shock of her own physical enjoyment, her own horrible, shameful, incestuous pleasure, sent her scrambling on hands and knees, and she crab-walked several steps backward. Her hands fell to her sides, and her fingers pressed into the grass, as she was so disoriented she could barely sit up straight otherwise. Her face burned with humiliation.

What is wrong with me?

"Kohaku," she said. "I'm sorry, I lost my mind. That wasn't right . . ."

Kohaku sat up, still no more than seven paces from her. And he came close to her, deadly close, and knelt beside her. His hands touched her face, and her jawline, and then wrapped around her neck, pushing her down onto the grass, putting his weight onto her.

For an instant she did not resist, and allowed him to squeeze, allowed herself to feel her brother's hands on her throat, this murderous touch being the most intimate act he has partaken upon her since the day he was taken from her. But she felt colors go grey, and sounds become muffled, and knew that while she wished to see Kohaku in that other world, she could not allow herself to go first.

Just as she was ready to push him away, just as she was ready to fight for her life again, he released the pressure on her neck. He leaned backward, still straddling her, this taijiya woman splayed out before him. She gasped for breath, watching the boy lower his hands to her desperately heaving chest. She felt fuzzy, dreamlike, uncomprehending of her plight, of her brother's intentions. How strange it was to trust, to not resist, to not care. How freeing it was to let herself believe her brother had released his chokehold too late, and that she was already dead.

Kohaku's hands worked the clasp at her neck, unfastening the buttons that ran from her right armpit straight down to her waist. Her uniform was meant to be worn under the most strenuous of activities, and should not impede her breathing, but perhaps Kohaku didn't know that. After all, it was a woman's cut, unlike his own, and thus a fair bit tighter across the chest. The cool air soothed the flushed skin of her upper chest as he pulled the top flap of her taijiya tunic fully open, exposing the underlayer which ran from her right shoulder, plunged down almost to the level of her breasts, and was fastened to the top flap of the tunic at her left side.

His left hand began to unfasten the left side of her tunic now, and if he completed this task she might well be stripped naked from the waist. But why would her little brother do such a thing? He must know that it was Kagome-chan that carried the jewel shards, not Sango. Or perhaps he thought the shards were distributed among them? If that were the case, as Kagome-chan kept the shards on a necklace worn beneath her blouse, Kohaku might imagine Sango too would keep a small cache of collected shards, close to her heart, beneath her clothes. Surely then, there was nothing strange, nothing unwholesome in his intentions. Surely then, there was no harm in allowing Kohaku to see for himself that she hid nothing from him.

It was not to say she was immodest; should any other man dare to undress her like this, that man would never come this far, and would suffer dearly for his attempts. But Kohaku was a boy still, and her dear little brother, and it was not so many years past when they were children sharing a cool swim in some river, or a hot bath in some onsen. If he should search her clothes, and bare her chest in the process, she should not be embarrassed, nor paint his innocent intentions with her own perverse thoughts. Indeed, to let herself think her brother held sexual desire for her, to consider the possibility that he might want to see her naked to fulfill his own biological imperative, would bring her down an unbearable path.

And so she lay there, arms to her sides, studying Kohaku's face, sacrificing her modesty to her brother's odd whim. And so he fully unfastened her tunic, drawing the material across her body, spilling out his sister's breasts.

For a moment, there was nothing, only the rushing of blood in her head. Kohaku's expression was that of confusion; perhaps he indeed thought she hid something of value from him, and now he could see there was nothing he could want hidden beneath her clothes. Perhaps now he was embarrassed by her semi-nudity.

But he did not move away from her, did not cover her. He leaned forward, bringing his head to her chest, pressing his ear to her heart, the heart that beat so valiantly for her brother. Would he press his head to her chest, curl up in her arms, and be soothed to sleep by the sound of his sister's heartbeat? Was that not the means by which a mother comforted her child, to take his flushed face and chest, and press it to her cool bosom?

"Kohaku," she whispered.

She dared to bring her hands to him, cupping his head, stroking his hair, pressing his cheek to the soft pillow of her naked breast. She felt him exhale, felt the stiffness leave his shoulders, and he extended his legs and lay fully atop her, and embraced her with his arms. How happy she was, that her body could give him such comfort.

"Kohaku," she said again. His hair was so soft between her fingers, his breath so warm against her flushed breast, as she considered the dichotomy of being a female taijiya. She was both warrior and woman, and in some ways she felt this was like two sides of her personality, opposing yet complementary. She so easily slipped from the affectations of a gentle village woman, to the gruff machismo of a youkai fighter, and back again, all without feeling either aspect was a guise placed over the other. All this time she had tried to claim Kohaku as a warrior, tried to use her strength and skill to defeat Naraku's control of the boy, to beat him into submission if necessary, to bind him back to her with force. Was she going about it the wrong way this entire time? Was it her femininity that would be the key to restoring her brother?

"Aneue," he said to her. He lay with his left cheek on her right breast, and now moved his head forward, pressing his face to her left breast. He began to nuzzle her, and with some concern she realized he was placing light kisses on her flesh, and those kisses were advancing from the side of her breast toward its peak.

There was, Sango realized, one other way a mother might comfort a child.

"Kohaku, don't..." she hissed. And yet still his lips made their path across her left breast, now making a circle of light kisses around her areola, and Sango shuddered as he slowly, deliberately, extended his tongue and ran it over her nipple.

"Ugh." Her fingers dug into Kohaku's shoulders. He licked her again, finding her nipple already stiff. This terrible, unprecedented sensation caused her to involuntarily suck in a deep breath and arch her back. And so, without thinking, she was now lifting her chest toward him, unwittingly approving of her brother's ministrations, unmistakably offering her breasts to his soft lips. Encouraged by his sister's wanton gesture, Kohaku's mouth surrounded her nipple and began to suck.

"Nnnn." She clasped his head in her hands, pushing him away at first, but she could not break the suction of his mouth, and succeeded only in making him pull hard on her breast.

"Oh, god, Kohaku."

His tongue flicked her nipple, his teeth nipped lightly, and she ran her fingers through his hair and pressed him firmly to her chest. In response, his left hand cupped her right breast, squeezing the flesh lightly, worrying the stiff nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

Something stiff and unyielding within her shattered. Something soft and pliable took its place.She was shocked by his actions, shocked by her realization that the feeling of her nipple in his mouth was strange and scary but not altogether unpleasant, and perhaps very pleasant indeed. For a moment, perhaps she did not push him away harder out of concern he might bite her. But with each second that passed she found it more difficult to do the reasonable thing and pry him from this very sensitive part of her body, and easier to accept the situation for what it was. Her little brother had stripped her to the waist and latched himself to her breast, and perhaps anyone else would think that disgusting, horrifying. Incestuous. But she know that was not the case. He was a child, just a child, and she was a woman, offering her breasts like a mother, like a wet-nurse. That was it, that was all. To allow him to continue was only to allow him that comfort, the comfort of a nursing child. She could bear this, must bear this.

Her hands cradled his head, fingers lacing into his tousled brown hair, and bit her bottom lip lest some shameful moan escape her throat and humiliate her.

She sought to save Kohaku, to bind him to her, and she would not dictate the manner. Was this her lot in life, her purpose? To throw away her honor, her dignity? This act would forever shame her; even her friends would not be able to hide their disgust. But she had been willing to throw away her life for her brother many times. Was this so different? It was a disgusting thing for her to surrender herself to her brother, but it would still pale in comparison to the suffering Kohaku has borne. What good was it to sacrifice her life if that would not save him? What good was it to maintain the sanctity of her body - unseen, untouched by any man - if being seen and touched by her brother will keep him in her company?

Truly, the things she would exchange for Kohaku’s life were many. She was disgusted by the idea of dealing with Naraku, of seeking him out under a flag of truce, and perhaps forging a separate peace with him. But she would already have done so, except that she did not have anything Naraku would accept for her brother, and even if she did, Sango had no reason to believe Naraku would honor any agreement between them. But if an exchange could be made, one with assurance of success, she would not hesitate to surrender her body in exchange for Kohaku’s life, whether that meant sacrificing a limb, an eye, or anything else. Long ago she had decided she would even sacrifice that one thing she hoped to give to someone special. Yes, if it came down to it, if it would ensure Kohaku’s life, even her virginity was available for negotiation. And knowing all this, how could she tell Kohaku to stop what he was doing? They were only breasts. When she had children these breasts would feed them, but until then what purpose did they serve? What harm was there in letting her little brother enjoy them?

Her hands moved down his back, feeling the tenseness in him, his body slim and rigid beneath his taijiya uniform, which his actions in Naraku’s service had made a mockery. How much longer would people remember their characteristic dress as the proud symbol of her village, which stood stalwart between humans and those rare demons who sought to kill them? How long until the taijiya uniform became known as the preferred clothing of Naraku’s assassin? When would the day come when someone would see her in her taijiya uniform and take her as a servant of Narku?

And yet, as her hands settled to Kohaku’s waist, Sango admitted to herself that, whatever Kohaku had done while wearing this armor, he had nonetheless grown into it while doing so. He did not look terribly different; perhaps a few inches taller, perhaps sporting slightly squarer features. But touching him was another matter. She had wrestled with him before, embraced him, when they were younger, and knew the weight of him, this skinny preteen boy. No longer did she know him this way; beneath the uniform he felt the muscles and sinew of a teenager, not lanky but trim, and hard.

He was not yet thirteen years old, she reminded herself. His round face and youthful voice were surely not those of an adult. The lean, muscular thighs that straddled her, the thighs Sango drew her fingers along, may seem to her like those of an adult, of a man, but surely they were not.

He is young, far too young. At his age I had not even started bleeding. Perhaps there is some desire in him, some childish curiosity of the female form, but no more than that. His attentions are strange, embarrassing, and god help me if anyone should ever know what I have allowed here. But so long as he is fixated upon my breasts I can bear it, and perhaps more than bear it. Yes. It is not a crime for me to feel happy at my brother’s happiness. Not many generations ago it was perfectly acceptable for a woman of my status to pull her kosode and hadagi down to her waist, and work and lounge bare-chested, and do these things in mixed company. And if a girl my age should be teased by a boy, even her own brother, if he should grab at her breasts, well, that would be a foolish thing, but not shameful, not inherently.

Even if the intent is not entirely to tease; even if the intent was simply to feel, to know the weight of his sister’s breast, to feel the warmth and softness of it, how it fit in his hand.

Even if the intent is to find if he can, with a brief stroke of fingers over the aerola, provoke the nipple to rise and stiffen. Such acts are strange, perhaps even perverted, but they were the acts of a boy nonetheless.

In the same way, Kohaku is groping me, that I cannot deny, but it is not the groping of a man, who would fondle, and be emboldened, overcome with his own desire, and proceed further, seeing all actions as some path or another toward to his own sexual climax. This is the groping of a boy, who sees this intimate touch as its own end, an independently joyful action.

Surely then, Kohaku, who continued to love his sister’s breasts, who continued to squeeze and caress her, Kohaku, whose mouth worshipped one breast and then the other, could not comprehend the full extent of his actions. Perhaps in much the same way, she herself could not comprehend the possible consequences of allowing, perhaps even indulging, in this absolutely inappropriate behavior.

Kohaku lifted his head from her chest; a thin strand of saliva trailed from the corner of his mouth to the stiff nipple of her right breast for a moment, and then broke. Without the warmth of her brother’s mouth, her breast felt uncomfortably cool. He had focused his attentions on her aureole, but nearly every part of her breast had felt his tongue, from her armpit to her sternum, and from the underside of her breast up to her shoulder. Every inch of her right breast was wet from his mouth, and a faint chill prickled the sensitive flesh.

Kohaku looked up at her.

“Aneue,” he said. His eyes were bright, not the pale brown-gray of some moments ago, and likewise, his voice displayed the soft, quiet clarity of the boy she had known throughout their shared childhood, rather than the monotone gruffness that pained her to hear. Naraku’s control of her brother was released, at least temporarily; he would not call her “Aneue” unless he remembered himself.

A blush formed on his cheeks, and his eyes flicked to his right hand, which continued to grope her left breast. She thought he might leap away from her, but rather, he seemed frozen in place.

“It’s okay, Kohaku,” she said. With her left hand she brushed the hair from his face, and trailing her fingers down his neck, to his shoulder, and down his arm, she covered his fingers with her own, and pressed his hand to her chest. She had weakened Naraku’s hold on him, and she would not do anything that might send him fleeing back.

“Aneue,” he said, “I didn’t mean to ...”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “I’m not.” Surely the blush on her own face betrayed this lie, but it was no matter. “I don’t mind at all, see?” She cupped both hands over his. “It is not proper for a brother to touch his big sister’s breasts like this, so this is our secret now, okay?” She smiled. “Inuyasha and the others won’t catch up to us for a long time yet. So stay with me until then, and I will let you hold me like this a little while longer.”

“Aneue,” he whispered. “I ... I can’t believe ...”

He bit his bottom lip pensively, and cautiously stroked her nipple with this thumb.

“May I - May I kiss you, Aneue?”

A tickle of apprehension ran down her spine. This was a line she had not drawn, and given what has already transpired, she found herself unable to refuse. Kissing one’s brother was unacceptable, but surely less unacceptable than letting one’s brother suckle her breasts.

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing softly at first but with growing aggression, at the same time cupping and squeezing her breasts with his one free hand, and soon his tongue was in her mouth. He tasted like soft earth, like lotus blossoms, and when he tweaked her nipples in a particular way her hips somehow rose toward him, and when he thrust her tongue in her mouth she extended her own tongue into his.

This was … well, it was unforgivable, for one, but it was groping, making out, heavy petting. It was romance and desire that neither of them could otherwise have - he due to his enslavement to Naraku; she due to her inability to love freely until Kohaku’s fate had been decided, one way or the other. This forbidden encounter was Kohaku’s first expression of humanity since his capture, the first time she had seen him desire or love, and although it surely was not the type of expression she had hoped, months of seeking him and losing him had made it so easy to accept this, even this, if it would bind him to her. She would take his love for her, this twisting of lover and sister, and she would not dare correct him until he was fully released from Naraku’s grasp. Only then could she safely dictate the terms of how a brother and sister should be. Only then would she dare tell him this is not how siblings kiss, and her breasts were not for him to play with.

With a pang of apprehension she felt his hand on his knee, his fingers making forbidden circles on her inner thigh, inching ever upward. That line she had drawn, not merely a line in the sand, but a trench so deep one could not climb out of it.

“Keep your hands above the waist.” An admonition appropriate for an overly touchy suitor. Too polite for Miroku. And something she should never need to say to her own brother. Something she did not in fact say to her brother, because before the first word left her mouth his right hand had already slipped under the pink armor plate at her waist and cupped her mound.

“Ko...haku...” she hissed. She clapped her legs together on reflex: slamming closed the gates of her thighs, and trapping the intruder inside this forbidden place, but at least limiting his movement while he was there.

No one had ever done this to her, not ever, not even the monk. The shock of his touch rendered her incoherent, at once intending to scream but finding no air in her lungs.

She could strike him, must strike him. Brother or no, whatever her responsibilities, whatever his fate, she would not be violated like this. But even then she could not act. Strangely, the impulse she finally succumbed to was covering herself, and she crossed her arms over her chest, each hand cupping a breast.

He tentatively pulled back, and at that moment she should have released the death-grip of her thighs on his hand, but she remained frozen. The material of her uniform here, beneath the waist-plates, between her legs, was more flexible and thin than in most places, and through this material she could feel how strangely cool his hand was against her vulva. As he was unable to extricate his hand, he curled up his fingers, perhaps to find leverage to pry his hand free, perhaps only to find if touching her in some spot there would cause her to release him. He was a young boy; it may be he thought she was ticklish there. Indeed, much as he might jab a finger in her armpit, or the crook of her knee, or a certain spot on her side and rapidly rub the flesh there with the tip of a finger, Kohaku curled one finger inward, upward, and pressed firmly at what just happened to be the very center of her.

“No!” she hissed, even as her body shook beneath his touch.

She could pretend all she liked that she was sacrificing herself to him, surrendering her dignity to the pyre, an offering to whatever god might favor her and return Kohaku to his proper state. But Kohaku’s finger pressed the fabric of her taijiya uniform against her labia, and she felt it, not nearly damp, but wet, wet enough she knew he felt it too. She was sopping. Her body had not heeded who Kohaku was; it knew only his forceful kisses and his masterful work on her breasts. She bit her lip and blushed furiously, so overtaken with embarrassment she cupped her hands to her face even as it meant leaving her breasts bare again. Her sacrifice was a farce. How could she claim that she had borne the unbearable, and surrendered herself to Kohaku’s forbidden needs, in the face of clear evidence that Kohaku’s desire was her desire as well?

“D-don’t,” she whispered, her half-hearted protests all but dying on her lips. “That’s ... that’s not a place for your fingers.”

The last of her strength drained from her, and as her thighs ceased to clench her brother’s hand, he lifted his right knee and placed it between her legs, prying her legs apart. With shock she stared at him between the interlaced fingers of her hands, watching her little brother spread her traitorous, trembling legs, and push aside the soft armor over her crotch, such that he could see without obstruction the way her taijiya uniform stretched tight across her womanhood. The middle finger of his right hand pressed more firmly against her, pushing the thin, wet material of her uniform into the valley between her labia. She wore no undergarment; if not for her leggings Kohaku’s finger would already have entered her. Or perhaps he already had; was he not in fact pushing a cloth-covered finger ever so slightly into her vagina? Did that finger not come so very close to a place where an indescribable heat dwelled; an unfathomable urgency?

“P-please,” she moaned. “Please don’t, Kohaku. It isn’t right.”

She knew her body, perhaps not as well as she could have known it, but she knew the need she felt now and what she could do to take care of it. What she did not know is what to do now, with Kohaku’s fingers tracing the contours of her vulva over her taijiya uniform. What she did not know was how to deal with the frustration, and the horrifying, sickening realization that a coiled spring was winding tighter and tighter within her.

His fingers traced upward now, along the damp line, coming ever closer to the spot that, if touched, would cause all to be lost. He had brought her to the edge already. It would take so little, so very little, for the last vestiges of her self-control to be wiped away.

She could, and should, hit him. Hard. Over and over again. Abandon him to the darkness he has so clearly allied himself with.

She meant to scream, to tell him he was not her brother, not anymore, not ever again, that he was a monster through and through, that she would not lie with him like this, that her body was her own and not his plaything. She was a proud warrior of the taijiya, and regardless of who Kohaku was to her, she would not surrender herself to such a perverse assault. He had nearly turned her own body against her, and perhaps even succeeded in some way - but only because she did not realize until too late the sensitivity of her breasts, that even a boy she felt no sexual desire for, her own little brother, could use his mouth and tongue so effectively. It was her own mistake not to realize that when she allowed Kohaku the comfort of her breasts the warmth she felt in her chest and belly was not the flush of motherly love and duty to a young child, that this heat traveled past her belly and settled between her legs. It was her own mistake to not realize that in having Kohaku suckle her breasts she was not mimicking a mother nursing a child, but a woman being pleasured by her lover. This simple mistake was the only reason she was so wet, which she had not even realized until Kohaku’s fingers began to rub her damp uniform against her.

Perhaps she had this in common with her brother, this difficulty in separating familial and romantic relationships. Kohaku knew she was his elder sister, yet he undressed her and groped her like she was his girlfriend. Sango knew Kohaku was her younger brother, yet she offered her breasts to him like she was his mother, and at the same time her body wound itself up like she was his bride. How strange it was to imagine him not as the child with whom she had shared a womb, but as the child of her own loins, and subsequently realize, at the very same time, her body had regarded him as the potential father of her children, that without conscious intention she was preparing herself to be impregnated by him.

This was disgusting, of course, but less so than it could have been, because it was so silly. He was too young to even be physically capable of such a thing. She was aroused, she could not deny this. But that did not mean she was bent to his will, whatever Kohaku’s will might be. She was seventeen years old and he was a pre-teen boy, a child that she had shared so much of her life with. It was impossible for him to simply stick his fingers between her legs and press some button that would render her helpless. What had stunned her thus far was the unbelievable shock of her brother’s actions; she was recovered from that shock, she knew now, and all she need do is grip his offending hand with her own and pull him away from that forbidden place. Employing a joint lock, if necessary.

But in that instant she decided to reach for his hand and finally end this insanity, that same hand had already moved upward along her vulva, and his thumb and forefinger had found the spot where her leggings were stretched tight across the firm little bud, and squeezed, not too firmly and not too lightly either.

“Ko - haaaaaah!”

His idle exploration of her body might very well have continued up her belly and back to her breasts if not for this outburst, but her reaction made him stop where he was and roll the bundle of nerves between his fingers. Her legs kicked, digging into the ground to get away from him, but he had moments ago straddled her right leg and pinned it, and as her left leg dug its heel into the soft turf she did not push herself away but merely turned her knee further outward and spread her legs even wider to her brother’s touch. Her arms were similarly useless, as she pressed her palms to either side of her, trying to push away from him, digging her fingers into the grass.

“Oh, god, Kohaku!” she moaned. Yes, moaned, like a shameful woman, like a brothel girl. His touch rendered her senseless, arching her back, rolling her hips against his hand. If only she could control her voice, if only she could quiet herself, he would not know what he was doing to her, and how to do it. But she moaned, and grunted, and made shameful noises, and he was too clever, treating all this like a game, and excelling at it. From the sounds she made he worked out her code, the secret way in which she touched herself, and how she someday wanted to be touched by another. First squeezing then rubbing, side to side and then in circles, he learned this, and the frequency she liked, the firmness.

“I’m gonna ...” she whispered. “P-please don’t make me...”

It was too late, she realized, far too late for her to stop this. Her body was lost to her, and perhaps now even her mind. She needed this, she told herself. She had fought so long, suffered so much. In this world where her family and her village were lost to her, everyone she cared for save her brother, could she not relax one little taboo? Kohaku did not need to know what he was doing to her, only that it was some sort of massage. What harm was there in this? Who would ever know? What person, what god, could know her pain, weigh her sacrifice, and judge her for this singular indiscretion? Was she not a dutiful daughter, a faithful sister? Was she not a woman?

And just like that, she was falling, falling.

“Kohaku … oh god … oh please … Kohaku …”

She could not remember ever coming like this, not so hard, not so long. Her own fingers had never matched her brother’s concentration, his meticulous attention to her breathing, his eagerness and dedication. She rode out her orgasm as he loomed above her, his face that of innocence and fascination, and even the shame, the realization of how deeply he had been corrupted, how much she herself had corrupted her brother, did not cut through the fog of pleasure that enveloped her. This was good, all was good. Let this be her alcohol, her opium. Let the world fade away, just for a little while.

She lay still for some time, perhaps a minute, perhaps ten, before she realized that Kohaku was still there, kneeling over her, face beset with worry. His hand brushed her hair, her cheek.

“Kohaku...”

She meant to speak her brother’s name, but if anything, she moaned it.

What is wrong with me that I could not ignore my own arousal, and simply stop my brother from committing such an unforgivable act? Why was it somehow so important to let him finish? What sort of person would need to come so badly that she would simply lie there, as I have done, and allow her own brother to sexually satisfy her?

“Aneue,” he said. “Aneue, I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry.”

The shock of his despair cut through her drugged state. Tears streamed down her little brother’s face.

“I didn’t realize … I only meant to tease you a little … I didn’t think that you’d let me …”

“Kohaku.”

She sat up and reached out to her brother, pulling him into her arms. Pressing him to her bare chest. The embarrassment of baring her breasts to Kohaku was long past, and embracing him like this somehow did not register as anything improper.

“I can’t believe I did that … touched you like that. Aneue, I’m so sorry. You deserve a better brother than me. I am so corrupted it is beyond comprehension.”

She cupped his face in his hands, her thumb brushing aside the tears on his cheeks.

“Please,” he said. “Please forgive me.”

“Shush,” she said, and leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips.

There was Kohaku, who was her innocent younger brother, the boy she had grown up with, fearful and clumsy and kind and sincere. But there was also Kohaku, the dead child resurrected by Naraku to serve him, killer of innocents, meticulous and confident and deadly. She had thought all this time that the first was real and the second was an unnatural state, one that could be purged with her love and forgiveness. But what if that was not the case? What if the true Kohaku was a combination of both? What if there was some corruption inherent in him now, something Kagome could not purge? What if the only way to regain him was to accept the disease of his soul? To be infected by him? To suffer from the same sickness?

She pushed her tongue into Kohaku’s mouth, and with her tongue, encouraged him to do the same.

What if Kohaku had grown, and become a man, and in all this time he had refused her as a sister because familial love was no longer the sort of love he sought? What if the thing he desired – what would finally draw him away from Naraku – was the love of a woman, the love that he could not take from her, the love that she could not give him?

Kohaku moaned softly into her mouth. She flicked her tongue against his with playful urgency.

What if Kohaku’s misery in Naraku’s service was so unbearable that the only thing sustaining him was this desire for her? What if his shame of that desire would drive him even further into madness, further into Naraku’s control? What if she could soothe his fears? She could prove to him he should not be ashamed. She could show him things he would remember in his darkest hours.

She broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his, finding her breath.

“Don’t-” she said. “Don’t say things like that. You are not corrupt. You have been hurt, Kohaku, hurt in ways beyond imagining.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t understand … I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like for you, Kohaku. What kind of horrors you experience in Naraku’s service. And that’s why … that’s why even if the things you want from me are strange and terrible I cannot refuse them. I have no right to judge, or hold you to the same standard of a brother who has not suffered what you have suffered.”

She took his hands, held them tight between them.

“So I shall extend to you courtesies that, in any other circumstance, no sister should ever extend to her brother. I do not know what sort of injury Naraku has inflicted on you, and will continue to inflict on you, and I cannot save you from that injury.”

A pang of regret struck her, she fought back tears. This was the core of it, really. Her powerlessness. Her inability to separate him from Narku’s control except through killing him.

“All I can hope for … all I can hope for is to try to heal you. And unless I am wrong, it seems to me … it seems that your injuries might somehow be soothed by my body …”

She squeezed his hands.

“All I need to know … all I need you to tell me … is if it will help. Will any of this help you, Kohaku?”

“Aneue,” he said. He looked down, eyebrows pensive, and took a deep breath.

“I cannot stay with you, Aneue. Even though I have come to my senses, and want more than anything to stay with you and fight alongside you, I know if I fail to return to Naraku my life will be taken from me.”

“I know, Kohaku. I’m so sorry ...”

“And when I return to Naraku, I will see terrible things. Do terrible things. And when it is too much to bear, I will think of you, as I always do, and find strength in you. When I am weak I think of you, and how strong you are. When I am disgusted with who I am, and what I’ve done, I think of you, and how beautiful you are. And that thought, that happy thought, helps sustain me.”

“Kohaku,” she whispered.

She drew him closer, pulling him to her naked chest, bringing one hand to his back and another to his cheek.

“My dear Kohaku. What about me do you imagine? Memories of the village?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes I think about how we trained together. How beautiful and strong you were when you struck clay targets with Hiraikotsu. And how happy you made me when I did well and you praised me.”

“Sometimes,” she echoed. “And other times?”

“I shouldn’t ... something like that is impossible to say ...”

“Something naughty, Kohaku?”

He nodded.

“That’s okay. Tell me, though. Do you imagine me doing things I would not normally do?”

“Not - not exactly. But perhaps ... perhaps doing things you would not do if I were there ...”

“Like what?”

“Aneue...”

“Please, Kohaku, be honest with me. There is nothing you could tell me that could make me upset.”

“I mean … it is terrible but … but sometimes ... sometimes I imagine you taking off your clothes, Aneue.”

Heat rose in her chest. Surely he desired her body, as his actions had made quite clear, but to have him say it outright evoked an altogether more intense feeling within her.

“That ... that’s quite all right, Kohaku. I don’t mind at all if you think of things like that, if it brings you peace.”

“Aneue...”

“But tell me,” she said. “Tell me exactly what you imagine, when you think of me like that.”

“A brother … a brother should not describe his big sister in such a way …”

“Never mind that, Kohaku.” She reached for his shoulders and drew him away from her chest, holding him square in front of her, so that they faced each other.

“Something like this, Kohaku? Do you think about me opening my uniform up like this, so that you can see my breasts?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“And is that all, Kohaku? Or do you think of me undressing further?”

“Aneue, I ... when I am alone, I mean ... and in those very particular times ...” He clasped his hands together. “I think of what it might be like to see you ... to see you preparing for a bath. Which is to say ... to watch you undress completely.”

“I see, Kohaku. So at those times, you imagine me completely naked.” She stroked his hair. “During those times, are you spying on me, Kohaku? Or have I invited you to watch?”

“I am very close,” he said, “as close as we are now, so that I can see every detail. And sometimes ... you ask for my assistance. Sometimes I imagine you are sitting still, and allowing me to undress you.”

“Is that right, Kohaku? Your fantasy is to strip your big sister until she is naked?”

“I know it is a terrible thing, Aneue, but that fantasy makes me so very happy, and brings me peace when I am at my worst.”

It had been mere minutes since her little brother’s fingers had, intentionally or otherwise, thrown her helplessly into the throes of a sexual climax of such intensity she had never before known. A suffusion of peace and satisfaction continued to flow through her, a very particular type of warmth, and yet beneath that were twinges of further desire. But she was not helpless, and she knew she could ignore the dull ache that began to reassert itself. It meant nothing that her brother had awoken such a sensation. Sango masturbated, and sometimes several times in a row, but that did not mean her own body longed for herself, that she desired to have sex with herself. Because Kohaku had made her come, her body wanted him to make her come again, but such a desire was shallow and easily quenched. When this was done, she would find some private time, and finish herself off, and pretend her fingers were Miroku, or Inuyasha, or even Kagome. And then it would be done.

How easily could she and Kohaku have found themselves in such a situation at a much earlier time, fighting, training, wrestling? Would it have meant anything if, after trapping Kohaku in some position, he tried to free himself, tried to pry apart her legs, her knees? If, in the attempt, his hand had slipped beneath her kosode, up her thigh? What if he found her wet? What if she found his touch irresistible?

What if they discovered Sango’s sexuality together?

“Do you know ... do you even know what a woman looks like without her clothes, Kohaku?”

“No, Aneue. I mean, I understand the basics. How you and I ... how men and women are different. But I’ve not seen a woman in a state of undress before.”

“Kohaku,” she whispered. “I’m afraid … I’m afraid that will not do at all.”

“Aneue?”

“I don’t know your suffering Kohaku; it is a thing beyond my comprehension. But I trust you. I trust you when you tell me that your fantasies make it easier for you to survive. And I don’t judge you that those fantasies focus on me. We’re unlike any other siblings in the world, Kohaku, so we need not be held by the same rules. Not when your suffering can be relieved, even a little bit, by bending those rules.”

She stood, and pulled Kohaku to his feet.

“So you understand my position, don’t you? If the thing that helps sustain you in difficult times is to picture your big sister in your mind, without any clothes on at all, why must that picture be your imagination, when it can be a memory instead? A memory that you can play back in your mind as often as you need.”

“Aneue,” he said. “You can’t … you can’t be serious … offering to me that sort of thing...”

“I am entirely serious, Kohaku. Do you think I am ashamed of my body? Or of how close we are?”

She cupped his cheek.

“Sometime after this you will be in a very dark place, Kohaku, a place I cannot reach you. And I think of you thinking of me then. And you might think of me ... s-sexually.” She smiled weakly. “You might ... you might ... masturbate ... and ... and you might even call out my name when you - when you do that.” She exhaled softly.

“Aneue … that kind of thing...”

“When I ... when I think of you doing these things, I am not disgusted. I am not disappointed.”

She smiled.

“I am happy, Kohaku, so very happy to think of myself as a ... a vehicle that delivers pleasure and peace, however fleeting, to my dear little brother. The means by which I give you that happiness no longer matters to me, Kohaku. If - if you should treasure the fantasy of stripping your big sister naked, and studying her body, then you should treasure the memory of that act all the more.”

She took his hands and pressed them to her chest.

“Let that be a memory of right now, Kohaku. My uniform is open, but other than that I am mostly dressed. If I am wearing anything you would like to see removed, then remove it. I will stand here and let you undress me, as slowly or as quickly as you like, and when I am naked I want you to study my body. I want you to remember my nudity, Kohaku, so that memory might fuel as many fantasies as you need.”

She leaned forward, and kissed his forehead with a strange chasteness.

“Let me do this for you, Kohaku. Go ahead and strip your big sister naked.”

The wind was only the slightest whisper in the trees. He stood silent, as if to see if her resolve would really hold.

“Thank you,” he said. Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you so very much.”

He took her right hand in his hands, unfastened the ties that secured the material to her wrist and forearm, kissed the flesh of her palm. His fingers traced lines along the black material until he reached her naked shoulder, and here he began to pull the material down her arm, trailing kisses on the flesh as he exposed it, until he had pulled her arm out of the sleeve. He did the same with her left arm, and with her uniform top fully removed, he lay her arms down at her sides.

He reached to her waist, unfastening the tunic from her leggings, and pulled the garment free. The pink armor pads at the elbows and shoulders hung limply from the black material; the pink sash that held the armor together was hopelessly tangled. He shook the garment in his hands, as if to straighten it out, or knock loose the brown dirt that clung to the back where she had been lying in the grass, and one shoulder pad came loose and fell to the ground.

The uniform meant so much to her, the symbol of her clan, of her work, her family. Something about Kohaku holding it before her like this caused a strange panic in her. Their people wore no medals, no awards, nothing that a taijiya leader might rescind or confiscate. Not once in her lifetime was a taijiya member ever found guilty of crimes so irredeemable he or she was expelled from their village. When that happened, on several occasions long before she was born, that person’s armor and weapons would be confiscated and destroyed. But of course, the person would not be wearing these things at the time, he or she would simply surrender the uniform and be escorted out - there was no public spectacle where a disgraced taijiya might be forcefully stripped before all the village.

And yet, what if there was such a spectacle, if a taijiya’s crimes were simply beyond measure? What if Kohaku judged her guilty, as she knew she was, and tore her uniform to pieces, right in front of her? What if he continued to strip her, and made a fire, and made her watch as he burned her uniform, and even Hiraikotsu? What if he told her she was such a disgrace to her family that she was unworthy of such things?

Her breathing quickened, and to her ever-deepening shame, she realized these diseased thoughts stoked the heat between her legs. Kohaku made no move to damage her tunic, and on the contrary, folded it reverently and placed it to his side.

He knelt before her again, running fingers up and down her bare arms, testing the muscles of her shoulders.

“You are so very strong, Aneue,” he said. “I had always wanted to see and feel these muscles that make you such a powerful demon slayer.” He squeezed her biceps. “It must take so much power to throw Hiraikotsu as you do.”

“It...it requires many years of training...” she said.

He lay his hands on her belly, feeling the flesh there, and she started for a moment as he tugged at the waistband of her uniform.

“Are you sure, Aneue?”

She nodded.

“Go ahead, Kohaku.”

He pulled loose the empty scabbard at her left hip, untied the sash around her waist, and removed the soft pink armor plates that hung from her belly and lower back. With trembling fingers he loosened the laces that held her leggings tight to her waist.

He hesitated.

“Aneue,” he said. “Are there - do you wear an undergarment? A loincloth?”

“No,” she said. “It is more comfortable for me to have the uniform tight to my skin, with nothing in between.” She understood the look he gave her - what he was about to see was something he fantasized about, a gift so precious it was beyond imagining. It was too much to enjoy it all at once; he must pull her clothing away slowly, exposing her inch by inch. So for that reason he must know how many layers remained between him and her naked mound.

“Take as much time as you like,” she said.

He nodded, and got on his knees before her, eyes level with her waist. With his hands at her hips he slowly drew the material downward, past her belly, toward her pubic mound. His breath caught as her pubic hair came into view, and he stopped for a moment, with the hem of her leggings just barely above her cleft. He lifted his hand toward her, and brushed the short, sparse, black hair with his fingers.

“How beautiful,” he said.

“Do-do you think so?” She did not expect him to admire her pubic hair, but then again, it too was a part of her womanhood, an indicator of her sexual maturity.

He placed his hands on her hips again, thumbs hooked into the leggings that were already partway down her thighs, and slowly drew them down to her knees.

She felt the damp crotch of her leggings peel away from her swollen cleft, and the smell of her arousal struck her. Kohaku, with his face mere inches away from her vulva, surely could not help but breathe in her scent as his eyes took in her naked womanhood.

“Aneue,” he whispered. “Aneue, it’s so beautiful.”

He was there. He was right there. Her little brother, on his knees before her bare mound, his breath teasing the sensitive flesh. He was so young and so innocent and he was her baby brother, and she was so wet.

“This scent,” he whispered. “In my imagination I pictured this part of you, what you looked like between your legs, although very poorly. But it never occurred to me to imagine the scent.” He leaned forward, pressing his nose to her cleft, inhaling deeply. “It is like incense, Aneue. This scent that comes from your body … it drives me near to madness, Aneue”

“Kohaku,” she moaned. Her hands stroked his hair.

This was insane. She did not travel alone. Early evening would soon be upon them, and if she did not return to her friends soon they would surely begin to search for her. And even before then, Kagome might well sense the shard in Kohaku’s back. At any moment the girl might come upon them, or Inuyasha might burst from the trees, or Miroku might appear at the edge of the clearing. Even Shippou, poor Shippou, might poke his head out from behind the protection of some bush and bear witness to this unforgivable scene.

“Aneue,” he whimpered. His breath was hot against her vulva. “I love you, Aneue.” His hands reached around her, cupped her bare buttocks, kneaded her ass. “I love your womanhood.” And he kissed her. Soft kisses. On her thighs, on her mound, on either side of her cleft. “I love the scent of your womanhood.”

It was enough now, it had to be. Her brother had seen her body, her naked body, as much of it as she could possibly show. Her face burned red.

No. There is more. There is more, if I were to fly right past the perverse, and straight on to the obscene.

But that was impossible, absolutely impossible. She had given him what she meant to give him, what she could bear to give him. More than enough to satisfy his urges, for a long time to come.

But he still doesn’t see it. That very special part of me. And if I don’t show it to him now, he might never see it. He might never see that part of any woman.

Madness. Irredeemable, impossible madness. It was not too late. She could tell him it was enough, that they were done. She could dress herself and leave him to his twisted fantasies.

“Kohaku,” she said. “Tell me what you see, Kohaku. Is it like you imagined?”

“I see … I see where the flesh comes together between your legs. Like a furrow. Is that it, Aneue? It seems … it seems rather featureless. I cannot tell where your entrance is.”

“A furrow,” she said. “Yes, perhaps it’s much like that. Like a field where seeds are planted. So you understand how I am different from you. My womanhood ... it’s not like a man’s parts, that stick out. That part of me is hidden between my legs, Kohaku, and when I am standing like this only the frontmost part is visible, and even that only barely. That is why you cannot see my entrance, Kohaku. I would need to spread my legs for you to see my vagina.”

“Aneue,” he said. “If that is true ... if there is more ...” His fingers traced idle circles on her mound. “Please. Please show me your vagina, Aneue.”

“Kohaku...”

“I want to see it. The part of you that goes inside. Please show me, Aneue.”

“H-help me,” she whimpered. “Help me get my boots off.” She stroked his hair. “I can’t spread my legs with my uniform wrapped around my knees.”

She lowered herself to the ground, and sat on her folded tunic, so that she need not sit directly on the dirt. Kohaku pulled off her boots, and her shin guards, and finally the leggings that were bunched at her knees, and fully naked now, Sango spread her legs wide.

This is it, Kohaku. This is me. All of me. The part of me that no man has ever seen. The part of me I want you to think about when you masturbate.

“Can you see?” she said. She beckoned to him with a wave of his hand, and he crawled to her, between her legs, resting on his elbows, his face so near her womanhood, bared completely to her brother’s view.

“Amazing,” he whispered. “I never imagined - I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

He reached forward with one hand, but then drew back.

“S-sorry,” he said.

The final vestiges of shame were rapidly falling away, as if they were so many boxes of cargo on a storm-pitched ship. As if the waves had torn off so many containers that she needed to start jettisoning items just to keep the ship in trim. A trail of flotsam bounced along the whitecaps behind her, with labels such as “I have never kissed my brother with my tongue,” and “I have never let my brother suck on my nipples,” and “I have never let my brother bring me to clitoral orgasm.” So few dignities were left to her that she wondered if it would be easier to simply cast off whatever was left. Return to port with an empty ship.

“It’s okay, Kohaku. You have already touched me there, through my uniform. If you want to know what it feels like to touch it directly...”

The urge to set another boundary was so easily pushed away; it was so absurd to go this far and tell him he could only look. Besides, what sense of it could he really gain with his eyes alone? What if, during his fantasies, he wanted to know the texture of this place that fascinated him so?

“...what I mean is, that does not bother me. To touch my womanhood with your fingers. But be gentle, Kohaku. This part of me is very delicate.”

“O-okay...”

His fingers traced along her labia. Her heart pounded in her head. His touch was impossibly soft.

“This part,” he said. He brushed her clit, causing her to shudder. “This was the part I was touching before?”

“That’s right, Kohaku. That part is my clitoris. You were so good at rubbing it that you made me have an orgasm.”

“I still don’t see - I don’t understand - where is the entrance, Aneue?”

She smiled.

“This part of me is like a mouth, can’t you see? You are touching the lips of that mouth. You can open me up, Kohaku, if you are very gentle.”

“A mouth, huh?” He touched his thumb and index finger to either side of her labia and spread them apart, just the smallest bit.

“I see,” he said.

With care he placed his hands on either side of her and gently pulled aside her labia. She sucked in a breath. She was exposed completely; her brother now saw her in a way she could not even see herself. She could not imagine offering such a sight to anyone, not a lover, not a husband.

“Aneue,” he said. “You are so pink.” He looked up at her. “Does this not hurt? It looks almost like a wound.”

“No, Kohaku, it does not hurt at all. That part of me is meant to be spread open.”

A strange prickling sensation arose in her, a need.

“And more than that, to be ...”

Her breath caught. The realization of what she was saying - what she was asking for - twisted and writhed within her belly.

“To be p-penetrated.”

What difference did it make, really? He was touching her there anyway. Stroking the inside of her labia. His fingers were already wet with her arousal. She might as well let him finger her a little.

“Do you see it, Kohaku? My entrance?”

“I ... I think so.”

His finger stroked up and down her slit, and suddenly slipped inside her, just a little.

“Gentle,” she hissed.

With maddening deliberateness Kohaku pushed his index finger into his sister’s vagina.

“Aah,” she choked out. “F-fuck...”

“S-sorry...”

“I t’s okay,” she breathed. “It doesn’t hurt, Kohaku. It just … it’s just a very intense feeling when you do that.”

“Should I stop?”

“Only if you want to, Kohaku.”

Kohaku withdrew his finger, and held it before his face.

“This wetness,” he said. “It fascinates me how wet you are. Is it always like this?”

“N-no. Only when I am very aroused, Kohaku. That’s how … that’s what makes it easier for a woman to accept a man into her.”

“I see.”

His finger made small circles around her entrance.

“So this is really that spot, then? Where a man might someday enter you?”

“That’s right Kohaku.”

Slowly, teasingly, he slipped his finger inside her again.

“It is very tight, Aneue. I can feel this part of you gripping me.”

He moved in and out a few strokes, each movement causing her breath to catch. He was so cautious, so attentive.

“That’s because … that’s because my body is reacting to your finger, Kohaku, as if it were a penis. Coaxing that penis to ejaculate. Do you understand, Kohaku?”

“How strange. It fascinates me to think of your body making such deliberate efforts to be impregnated. That is what would happen if a man released his seed inside here, isn’t it?”

“That’s correct. If semen is released in the place where your fingers are, it will travel upwards, deep into me, all the way to my womb. And there that seed may take root, and grow into a child.”

“I’ve understood this, but only now do I realize how very amazing it is. It fills me with happiness to be so honored as this, to explore such a mysterious part of Aneue’s body. To think that here, and only here, a life might be created. I guess … I guess that’s why I find it so fascinating. I want to know everything about it. How it looks, and how it feels.”

Of all things, she felt a strange sense of accomplishment, as a dedicated teacher with an attentive student. Or more than that. A sisterly pride, but more than that too. A sensation of total connection, absolute freedom. Every boundary between them smashed. Every pretense. Every wall. Male and female, boy and woman, brother and sister, husband and wife. They were none of these, and all of them. Their relationship was fluid, undefinable.

“Of course, Kohaku. I am very happy to teach you. Please, ask me any question you like. No subject is forbidden now; you must know that. And at the same time, if this part of my body is truly so fascinating to you, my vagina is yours to study, so please investigate to your heart’s content.”

Some minutes passed as her brother fingered her, testing her depth, the texture of her vaginal walls. It was such an oddly peaceful feeling, being fingered by Kohaku.

“Aneue,” he said. “This part of you - you said it is like a mouth, is that right?”

“Y-yes, Kohaku.”

“Then - then I shall kiss it,” he said. “I shall kiss Aneue here as I kiss her mouth.”

“That - that’s not a good -”

Kohaku continued to finger her as he brought his lips to her clit and placed a soft kiss upon it.

“Kohaku, don’t -”

Wet heat enveloped her clit, and she moaned helplessly. He was licking her. Her little brother was actually licking her there, between her legs. An act so obscene it transcended the very concept of obscenity. His tongue lapped at her, sending shockwaves through her belly and up her back. She moaned, a primitive and otherworldly sound, arching her back and digging her fingers into the grass.

He drew back for a moment, and she looked down at him, at the face of the young boy hovering over her womanhood. His eyes locked onto hers, glaring at her impishly through the soft black fuzz of her pubic hair. There was a strange playfulness in his expression, the look of a child who found the secret to winning some game.

“Kohaku,” she pleaded. “Kohaku, you just can’t do that!”

“Why not?” he asked, smiling still.

“Be-because - aah!”

He thrust two fingers in her now. Where did this confidence come from?

“You gave me permission to study this part of you, did you not? And just as I was curious about how it looked, and how it felt, you must know I was similarly curious about how it tasted.”

He flicked his tongue at her clit. She groaned.

“And do you know what I have just learned? You taste so good, Aneue. So amazingly good.”

The delicate flesh between her legs was so warm with his breath, and vibrated with her brother’s voice.

“And given this, Aneue, how can you lay something so delicious right under my nose, and ask me not to eat it?”

“Oh, god...”

Kohaku’s hands reached around her thighs and clasped her hips, holding her to his mouth as he descended greedily upon her vulva. He drew her clit into her mouth, and her labia.

“Nnn - hah! Ah!”

She wove her fingers through her hair, and tried to push him away, but he could not be moved. With increasing speed he drew her flesh back and forth over his lips.

Her hands cradled his head and she pressed Kohaku’s face into her vulva.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”

She rolled her hips, thrusting herself at him, helpless to do anything but ride her brother’s tongue. There was no point resisting any longer. No point pretending she had any honor left to her. No point acting as if she did not enjoy having sex with her own little brother. This boy. This child with whom she had shared a mother and a father.

“Kohaku,” she said. “Your mouth. It’s unbelievable, Kohaku.”

It was impossible to resist his heedless onslaught. Such dedication. Such love. For what was love, except acceptance, and what could be more accepting that this? Tasting her like this?

And in her mind, could she not admit it now, that her love for her brother was, and always had been, something far greater?

“Such a good boy,” she moaned. “Such a good boy to your sister.”

When they were very little, and did not understand yet concepts of family and romance, when Kohaku was all of six years old and Sango was still two years away from flowering, did Kohaku not tell her, more than once, that he would marry her some day? And did Sango, even understanding such a thing was impossible, imagine her little brother growing into a man, and following through with this silly promise? Did that not make her feel things she did not understand at the time? A desire to love Kohaku as a child when they were children, and love Kohaku as an adult when they were adults?

“Kohaku! Kohaku! Kohakuuuu!”

A crashing, riotous orgasm struck her, paralyzed her, rendered her senseless. Her cries were guttoral, nonsensical. Her hips shook helplessly, striving for the warmth of Kohaku’s mouth. Her body clenched Kohaku’s fingers.

For a second time now she was laid out, incoherent, her poor brother above her, but this time he was not worried, but bore the face of someone satisfied, perhaps even amused, and his face was wet, wet with her arousal.

He stood, and as if in slow motion she watched him unfasten the sash around his waist, remove his armor. She regarded him strangely. The pile of clothing beside them grew, black and coral and amber, and soon her brother was naked as she was.

“Kohaku,” she whispered. “What are you doing, Kohaku?”

The last time she had seen Kohaku naked, as best she could recall, she was younger than he was now, because at that age it was not improper for them to share a bath. Back then she was a young girl whose breasts had yet to bud. He was just a little boy then.

Perhaps he was a boy still, as he was all of twelve years old, and for the most part, his skinny body did not suggest otherwise. But he was erect. His penis was not large, not unusual for someone his size, and perhaps not his age either, but having never really seen a penis in such a state before, she could not say such a thing with certainty. Was he not too young for this, though? Had he undergone puberty already?

“Please,” he said. “I thought this would be enough, but it isn’t, Aneue.”

He clenched his fists.

“I can bear it no longer. Let me impregnate you, Aneue. Let us restore the Taijiya.”

“Kohaku, don’t be ridiculous. That kind of thing ... that kind of thing cannot be.”

“Are you not the last Taijiya woman, Aneue? Am I not the last Taijiya man? What hope is there for our people unless we continue our family line?” He shook his head. “That fantasy ... the fantasy I told you ... it’s not the full truth. Because in that fantasy, you ask me to undress you, and when you are naked, you ask me to give you my seed.”

“Kohaku! Don’t even say things like that!”

“Please, Aneue. In the time we have been separated, I have become a man. For nearly a year now I have been thinking about you, about this very moment, and masturbating. For most of that time, although I felt an incredible wave of pleasure, nothing actually came out of me, because I was still a boy. But several weeks ago, when I thought of you, and cried out your name, I ejaculated for the first time. And I was so happy, Aneue. Do you know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because it meant that, just as you are a woman, and able to bear a child if a man should produce his seed inside you, so I am a man, and able to produce that seed. Don’t you understand, Aneue? I have come to my full potential. My purpose. I can impregnate you now.”

“No, Kohaku! You certainly can not!”

“I have to, Aneue. We both have to do this. Please grant me this wish. Let me place the seed of our father inside you. As our father and mother have done before us, let my seed take root inside you.”

“Kohaku! Don’t speak such madness! I won’t have sex with you! I can never have sex with you!”

He recoiled, as if struck by some invisible slap. Her rejection hurt him beyond words.

Our family is gone, our village is gone. The taijiya bloodline survives only in myself and in Kohaku. To bear this shame, to continue down this path: is this not the one and only way to ensure a new generation of taijiya children?

No, that was clearly impossible. But still, he was a man, and she was a woman, and she knew certain means of satiating his urges. Kohaku had pleasured her, and wrong as it was for either of them to play with each other this way, it seemed a worse thing for her to accept his touch and refuse him hers.

And perhaps, also, she was intrigued by his claim that he had only recently begun to produce seed. He still seemed like a boy to her, although that was hard to rectify with the firm erection he presented to her. She had seen naked men and boys before, when changing or bathing with male Taijiya warriors. But she had never seen one erect before. And she most certainly had never seen a man come. She had heard stories from older girls. That it was white, and sticky, and - according to those girls adventurous enough to find out - not pleasant to taste.

It fascinated her that, almost as soon as Kohaku could produce seed, he wanted to produce it for her. The very thought should have disgusted her, but it didn’t. And while she could not allow him to use his seed in the way he wished, she could not deny the strange desire to see it.

He has pleasured me twice now. If I should have a sudden attack of propriety, it would mean only that I was too good to serve him as he has served me. But that is not true, not it the least. His needs do not frighten me. His body does not disgust me. No, more than that. I am proud of his budding masculinity. So if my brother should undress, and if he should show me his erect penis, I will not shy away.

“Kohaku,” she said. “My dear little brother. Your urges have driven you mad. I understand, Kohaku. I know it is difficult. So I will assist you. Let me help you release your seed.”

She reached forward, stroking his hips, working toward his center. Her fingers traced over his completely hairless pubis, stroked soft testicles, found his penis small and stiff, foreskin only slightly retracted, its folds wet with precum. She took his penis in her fist and stroked him up and down, pulling his foreskin downward, fully exposing the dull red head of his cock.

“N-no,” he said. “Aneue!”

“I can’t let you release this seed inside me,” she said. “But anywhere else I will allow. In my hands. On my breasts. Anywhere you desire to ejaculate, Kohaku. All I ask is that you not make me pregnant. That is more than fair, is it not?”

He whimpered, pressed his face to her neck, gripped her shoulders with his hands. In her hands she held him, the core of him, and he surrendered utterly to her, able to do little else but make uncoordinated thrusting movements with his pelvis, his body acting on instinct, making a futile attempt to impregnate her hand. She stroked his length slowly.

Yes, pride. That is what I feel. If things were different, I would be proud of him, proud of his strength, his skill as a taijiya. And I would know he was handsome, and desirable to other women, and that would make me proud as well, to have a little brother so coveted by the girls of the village. And I feel those things now, for regardless of his affiliation with Naraku, he is a serious and formidable warrior. And although there are no village girls left in the village to desire him, there is me. And I desire him. I know he is my brother, and it is wrong for me to feel that way. But if I am truthful and honest with myself, I must admit I do not dislike touching him like this.

With one hand she continued to hold her brother by his erection, and with the other she gripped his shoulder and guided him to lie down on his back.

Pride. Pride in my family, in the physique of our men. If things were different, I might see him shirtless at times, and notice the musculature of his chest, his back. I might blush and think of it would be like to touch that chest with my hand. But no further than that, for certain. I would not feel the pride I feel now. Pride in Kohaku’s penis, so large and stiff, knowing that he would so easily penetrate a woman with it. Pride in Kohaku’s testicles, round and heavy, knowing he would so thoroughly impregnate a women with the seed stored there. Kohaku’s seed. A very special seed.

Yes, very special. What he said before was not wrong. Inside him is the last of the seed of the taijiya. The seed of our father, and our family. Here, right here, inside these beautiful balls. As I cup them with my hands, as I gently stroke and squeeze and roll my little brothers’ testicles between my fingers, I also hold the fate of our family, of the entire taijiya people. The very future of our clan resides here. What pride I feel to know my little brother is the last man on earth who might father Taijiya children. What pride I feel to be allowed to hold Kohaku’s genitals, which contain such potential.

Her hands continued to work his cock, and although she knew it was enough, more than enough, to simply do this until he came to climax, she found herself so fascinated with his penis that she brought her face ever closer to it.

But of course I am fascinated. How could I not be? No penis is more special than Kohaku’s penis, because it is the source of the rarest of substances. The very life of the Taijiya will burst forth from my little brother, and I am going to see it. I am going to see Kohaku ejaculate, white and thick and voluminous, and indescribably beautiful. This beautiful penis will some day produce our legacy. And for that reason, I am thankful.

Sango leaned forward and pressed her lips to the head of his cock. A soft kiss.

So very thankful.

Somehow that was not enough. She kissed his penis two, three times, on the head, on the shaft.

So very, very thankful.

More kisses still, on his shaft and balls, now with her lips slightly parted, and then parted more and more, wet kisses, and on each kiss her tongue just barely slipped past her lips and touched the flesh of his genitals. And when she kissed her way to the base of his shaft, she extended her tongue, running it up his length. His penis had a strange, salty, earthy taste, and his swollen glans had a texture that was smooth and pleasant on her tongue. Somehow she knew that would be the case, that her brother’s cock would taste wonderful to her.

“Aneue!”

She could no longer help herself. Just as Kohaku was drawn to the taste of her womanhood, she was drawn to the taste of his manhood. But kissing was not enough. Licking was not enough. She needed to taste him, truly taste him. And so she descended upon his cock, taking his erection into her mouth. And so she worked him with her tongue, her lips. Her brother’s erection. She felt his length, his rigidity, with her mouth. She did this knowing the consequences. Anticipating them. He was going to ejaculate. If she continued this way, her brother was going to come inside her mouth.

“Aneue … if you do that … I’m going to...”

I know, Kohaku. I want you to. I can’t let you impregnate me, but I can’t let you spill your seed on the ground either, like it was something dirty. So let me give you a warm place to ejaculate into. My mouth, Kohaku. If you do it in my mouth, your seed will not be spilled. I will consume it, Kohaku, and your essence will become a part of me.

“Oh, god, Aneue!”

So will you honor me, Kohaku? Will you let me taste the seed of our family?

Her head bobbed and down on his cock. He writhed beneath her, unable to withstand her for very long.

“Aneue … Aneue it’s … it’s coming out, Aneue...”

Her mouth filled with liquid heat, the seed of her brother. Hot semen splashed on her tongue, her cheeks, first in a long stream, and then in quick bursts. Thick and oily, salty but otherwise without any particular taste. She rolled his semen around in her mouth, feeling its texture against her palate and teeth. She wanted to spit it out, into her hands, not because it disgusted her to have her brother’s cum in her mouth, but because she wanted to see it, and rub it between her fingers. Perhaps she might, some other time. For now, she continued to suck him as he thrust uselessly against her, collecting his seed as he fucked her mouth. When he became still, and moaned helplessly, she swallowed. His semen ran hot and sticky down her throat. She squeezed his balls and gripped his cock, milking him of his last few drops. Only when she was certain Kohaku had been fully drained did she release him from her mouth. His sexual need would be satiated, and if for some reason it was not, she would be certain his ammunition would be depleted.

She drew back, and wiped her mouth. His damp cock continued to point straight up. His eyes were closed, and soon after she leaned back and lay beside him, he turned over to face her, wrapped his arm around her back, and pulled himself atop her. She let him lay prone atop her naked body. He was still, and terribly warm. His cock, wet with her saliva, still hard, pressed between her thighs.

10.

He lifted himself up on his hands, and began to kiss her again. Her mouth, her neck. She had been so certain that his orgasm had tired him, that she had fully satisfied his need. And yet his kisses increased in intensity, and his penis grew no softer against her leg. Indeed, his feet entangled with hers, and with a sudden realization she found her legs spread apart, and his legs between hers. She could sense the forbidding heat of his penis, hovering mere inches from her vagina.

“Kohaku,” she whispered. “Don’t...”

He lifted himself up to his knees.

“Aneue, please. I need … it’s so hard …”

He knelt in front of her, before her spread legs, his penis poised dangerously close to her womanhood.

How is it even possible for him to still be hard?

“Kohaku!” she hissed. “Don’t do that, Kohaku!”

“Do what, Aneue?”

With disturbing casualness he began to stroke the length of his penis.

“Don’t have sex with me, Kohaku. I’m your sister. We can’t ever have sex; you know that.”

“Was what happened before not sex, Aneue? When we used our hands and our mouths on each other?”

“It’s different!”

“Then tell me, Aneue, what I must not do.”

“You mustn't … you mustn't put your penis in my vagina, Kohaku. You must not ever put your penis in your sister’s vagina.”

“What if I stay here, though?” he said. “What if I just touch myself like this, and pretend my hand is your vagina?”

“You mustn't come … you mustn't come there. It’s important you don’t let your semen get too close to my vagina.”

“Is there some place you would prefer me to spill my seed, Aneue?”

A shiver worked its way down her spine. It felt so strange to argue with him about something so indecent. She could simply overpower him, and dress herself, and leave him to his fantasies. Why did she feel the need to negotiate? It was a game, wasn’t it? Kohaku wanted to push her as far as he could, and it was her role to rebuff his advances. Like children daring each other into increasingly strange acts. Her part in the game was to prevent him from taking her virginity. Her part was to distract him into committing some other sexual act.

“You may do it in my mouth again, if you want, Kohaku. Was it not good enough for you, when you ejaculated in my mouth?”

“Of course, Aneue. It was an amazing feeling. But I am trying to experience as many things as I can, so that I can remember later, when we are very far apart. So I would like to do something different, Aneue. I would like to come somewhere else on you. Can you tell me where else I might do that?”

She thought of Kohaku jacking off for her, on her.

“Of - of course, Kohaku.” She touched his knee. “You could scoot up a little, and then do it on my stomach, if you want. Or my breasts. Even - even my face, if you think that would be enjoyable for you. It … it would be messy, if you came in my hair, but if you insist I could do that too.”

“I would enjoy each of those things very much, Aneue, but perhaps some other time. For now, I would prefer to do it somewhere lower. Your thighs, or …” His fingers stroked her mound. “Here. Where you are hairy, Aneue. As near to your vagina as I can be.”

“O-oh,” she said. “That … that is a little too close, Kohaku. It could still … it could drip, Kohaku.”

“I will be careful, Aneue.”

He stroked himself with one hand, his face betraying his exertion. She made no move, allowing her brother to jerk off before her. With his free hand he stroked her vulva, worked her clit with his thumb.

A shock ran through her as she realised an additional touch. Kohaku’s penis grazed her clit.

“Kohaku! Stop that!”

He slowly brushed the head of his penis back and forth over her clit. She moaned softly, humiliatingly.

“You mustn't,” she said. “You mustn't put it in me, Kohaku.”
“Do you mean your vagina, Aneue?”

“Y-yes, Kohaku. My vagina. It is important you not put your penis in there, and make me pregnant.”

“But now I know where that is, Aneue, so I can be sure to avoid it.”

He moved his penis back and forth, spreading her labia. Stroked her where she was indelibly, indescribably wet.

“Kohaku!”

“Here, for example, is the place between the lips of your lady-mouth. But your entrance is further down.”

“Kohaku...”

He slowly drove his penis downward, inside her labia.

“Kohaku, please...”

His penis stopped at the bottom of her vulva, at the very entrance of her. She reached forward, grabbing his hips. Pushing his pelvis away. Even still, she could feel it, the tip of his cock, poised at the very edge of her vagina.

“This is it, isn’t it?”

“Kokahu...”

“Tell me, Aneue. Is this it?”

“Y-yes... Kohaku...”

“With words, Aneue. Where is my penis right now?”
How dare you, Kohaku. How dare you do this to me. How dare you threaten my virginity like this. And now you speak to me this way. Asking me to humiliate myself.

“My - my vagina. Your p-penis is at the very edge of my vagina, Kohaku.”

“So if I came right now, what would happen?”

“It - it would go in. Your semen would go inside.”

“Where, Aneue? Where would it go?”

“My vagina. It might even … it might go into my womb. And if that happened …”

“So it makes no difference then, Aneue? Whether my penis is inside or outside your vagina?”

“Kohaku... “

She was too far gone to argue, to fight. He pushed forward very slowly, and she relaxed her arms, resisting him less and less. Inch by inch her brother’s penis slipped inside her. Spread her. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Did he penetrate her? Or did she engulf him? That part of her was like a mouth, and it consumed her brother’s manhood.

“Ah! Oh, no, Kohaku!”

11.

I can’t believe how large he is. How long he is. But more than that. His shape. His shape seems to perfectly conform to me. The shape of my brother’s penis and the shape of my vagina match perfectly. As if my own vagina was the mold in which Kohaku’s penis was cast. How can that even be? Is it because we are brother and sister? Do children who share the same womb naturally have genitals that match each other?

“Kohaku,” she moaned. “I told you not to do that, Kohaku...”

“It is okay, Aneue. I promise not to come. I just want to feel this sensation.”

His hips pressed against hers. Kohaku’s entire penis was inside her. He could be no deeper than he was now.

“Please … K-kohaku...” The heat of his cock was incredible. “Now - now you know. Now you know what it feels like to put your penis inside your big sister’s vagina. So - so that’s the end of it. Please, Kohaku, it’s not too late to stop. You - you took my virginity, Kohaku, but I’ll forgive you. I’ll forgive you if you just pull it out.”

“Aneue,” he said.

He withdrew his cock. The friction of his dick inside her sent her heart racing. A long, deliberate upstroke. But he didn’t pull out entirely. The head of his cock remained inside her, just barely.

“Kohaku,” she said.

I will push him away now. I will push him away and make my peace with the fact my little brother has penetrated me. I will take solace in the fact that, no matter what else happens, Kohaku will have this memory to fuel his sexual fantasies for many years to come. It is a steep price but one I pay gladly.

She bit her lip. Her eyes began to water. To think of Kohaku again trapped in misery, in a place she could not reach him or offer her comfort. To think of Kohaku seeking out momentary happiness through self-pleasure. To think of him reliving, as best he can, this moment. The memory of a single stroke.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“Aneue?”

Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hips, and she pulled him forward. Drew his cock back into her.

“Fuck,” she said.

She felt him, felt every fraction of every inch, felt her body clench tight around him.

“Kohaku. Fuck.”

Slowly he buried himself into her. Slowly he withdrew. Long, slow strokes. That was important. That way she would not overstimulate him. There would still be time to make him pull out before he had to ejaculate.

“Are you … are you sure, Aneue? You said … you said you would forgive me if …”

“Never mind,” she hissed. “It’s fine as long as you don’t cum.”

Something devastating had happened between them; Kohaku’s curiosity and Sango’s impropriety had combined into a sin that wiped away any semblance of right conduct and familial order. Her little brother had touched her. Sexually. Brought her to climax. And though she was humiliated, though her honor was not merely tainted but destroyed utterly, she somehow did not despair.

There was a home in her mind she had built, one where she had a husband - perhaps Miroku, perhaps another - and where she bore him children. In that house, or perhaps nearby, Kohaku too would live, and perhaps grow a family himself.

That home was gone now, not merely damaged, but destroyed, burned down to the foundation, the very ashes blown away, so that there was nothing, merely an empty field. Such a place could no longer exist, not with what she and Kohaku had done. And in this empty field there was no potential husband for her, as there could never be again. There were only Kohaku and herself. What sort of home would they build? What would they become?

His thrusts were faster now, deeper. They had been virgins earlier today, and now they were lovers. Not by her own desire though, surely not. Kohaku was sick. He was a very, very sick boy. And she was making him better. It was her sisterly duty. Anything to heal him. Even this.

And even still, what I am doing is not an an act of incest. This person is not my brother, not any more. He has his appearance, but even then only slightly, for his apprenticeship with Naraku has made his body stronger and harder than Father's training ever did. If his life before Naraku is lost entirely to him, I have been chasing a dream all this time. And if that is true, it is not my brother who is currently fucking me.

Kohaku leaned forward as he continued to thrust, bringing his face to her chest. She brought her hands over him, splaying her fingers on the taught muscles of his back, pressing him to her.

If our shared childhood, our familial bond, has truly been taken away from him, then I cannot be his sister, and bind him to me as my brother. Our shared blood means nothing to him. Can I abandon that bond as well, and forge a new one? Can I force myself to forget our past, our parents, our life together as children? He is the last living man of the youkai taijia, and I am the last living woman of the youkai taijiya. Is it wrong for me to love him that way?

Kohaku’s mouth descened on her breast, suckled her nipple, rolled the bud between his teeth. She cried out.

Is it wrong to enjoy this sensation of Kohaku’s penis inside me?

Is it wrong that the anticipation of Kohaku ejaculating inside me has brought me to a level of joy I have never before experienced?

Is there even any point to pretend, for one moment more, that I do not want to bear my brother’s child?

“Kohaku...”

She groaned.

“D-do it, Kohaku.”

She reached around, grabbing his ass, guiding her little brother’s thrusts.

“My vagina. Come in my vagina. That’s what it’s for, Kohaku. For Taijiya seed. For your seed, Kohaku. Ah … oh, fuck.”

Her words provoked him, causing him to drive himself faster, and more deeply, into her body.

“Brother-husband,” she said, “Make me your sister-wife. That’s what I will be if it will bind you to me. So f-fuck me. Finish what you started, Kohaku, and fill me with the seed of our family. Make me an aunt and a mother all at once. I don’t care what rules we break as long as we break them together.”

Kohaku moaned, and she felt him, felt the tenseness in his body, the heat of his cock. The heat that was now filling her. Her brother was impregnating her. Her very mind shattered.

“Fuck me, Kohaku! Fuck your sister! Put your babies in me!”

The sensation of his penis, his semen, was too much. The absolute defilement. The knowledge something unwholesome had been planted inside her. The thought of being with child. Of her friends noticing the swell of her stomach.

Her screams echoed throughout the clearing. Her body shook, her vision became dark and slow. It was a feeling incomparable to her previous climax, or any climax ever. She was nearly catatonic. What happened to her was not pleasure, not pain, but something entirely outside it. She had not been brought to orgasm. She had been fucked. Nothing remained to her. Mind, body, and soul, all fully penetrated. Every aspect of her defiled.

He collapsed atop her, and she held him there, held his penis inside her. It was important she not let his semen spill out.

Her senses slowly returned to her. Her friends would find her soon, so within the next few minutes, she knew, she would have to clean herself up and dress.

In a few weeks, if her cycle did not come, she would know a Taijiya child grew inside her. She would have to decide then, in the first month of her pregnancy, how best to hide the facts of that child’s conception. She could not simply abandon her friends, not when their partnership remained the best hope of destroying Naraku and fully freeing her brother. Perhaps her only choice, then, was to lie with the monk. Houshi-sama would be most receptive to her advances, and if the timing was right, she could convince him that her brother’s child was his own. Surely it would surprise no-one if the child appeared very much like his uncle. Kohaku would understand.

She stroked the boy’s hair, and he turned toward her, his face resting on the pillow of her breasts, his amber eyes piercing her.

“Aneue,” he said.

She smiled.

“You make me so proud, Kohaku. And I am proud as well, to be able to make my brother a man.”

“Will you - will you become pregnant?”

“I may. If I do not, that only means we will have to do this again.”

She stroked her fingers down his back.

“And if I do become pregnant, Kohaku, that also means we will have to do this again. If I can accept you even though you are my brother, than you can accept me even when I am heavy with child.”

“Do you really mean it, Aneue?”

“Of course, Kohaku. We have become lovers. We will remain lovers.”

“Aneue.”

Soon, her brother would grow soft, and slip out of her body, and they would part ways. She would fight alongside her friends, disguising her true face, her honest desires. When possible, she would seek out Kohaku, and only at those times could she be true to herself. And far in the future, in a world without Naraku, she could part ways with her friends. She and Kohaku could create a new life, somewhere far from here, where no one would know they were siblings, and no one would shun the children they bore.

But until then she held him tight, this beautiful young man she shared her childhood with. Until then she would remain one with him, bound to him, her brother, her husband, her one and only.

END