InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Someone To Watch Over Me ❯ Haunted ( Chapter 10 )

***Chapter 10***

~*~*~*Haunted*~*~*~

 

 

The darkness of the night was being chased away by the subtle light of the predawn sky. The long shadows began to shorten; the stark black of the room faded into colorless shadows as those within waited for the comforting warmth and familiar gold of the brilliant sunlight to make its appearance. The shoji door of the room opened slowly, the darkness of the hallway contrasting with the myriad shades of shadows in the room, casting the figure standing in the doorway into an eerie black featureless outline.

 

Across the room, near the lightly covered window, sat a lone figure, his white hair gleaming in the ambient light and shining out as though a beacon for lost souls. White puppy ears swiveled back and forth, alert for new sounds and possible threats. Nose twitching as scents, new and familiar, were identified; the sword encased in its magnolia wood sheath that leaned against his shoulder was set aside on the floor as golden eyes opened.

 

The soft click of claws on the hardwood floor drew the hanyou's attention and he watched as the thickly coated wolf bitch trotted across the room to the girl who lay sleeping in the wide patch of blue light from the window. Lying down on the floor, the wolf nuzzled her way beneath Inuyasha's fire rat haori that blanketed the girl. Her nose reappeared by the girl's cheek, her tail the only bit of the wolf left uncovered by the hanyou's kimono.

 

“Inuyasha,” Ginta greeted as he slowly stepped through the doorway and into the room.

 

The hanyou nodded his greeting as he stood and glanced down at Kagome and the wolf. Ginta's eyes followed Inuyasha's, and he moved slowly to kneel beside the girl's outstretched arm, her head pillowed on her bicep. Reaching out a hand, he tucked her hair gently behind her rounded ear and, ever so slowly, stroked his bent knuckles down over her sleep-warmed cheek.

 

A warning growl from Inuyasha sounded when Ginta lingered too long over Kagome for his liking. The wolf youkai offered up a sheepish half-grin and rose from where he had been crouching. Keeping his eyes on the sleeping miko, he moved to stand beside the hanyou.

 

“The wolf is for Kagome,” Ginta told Inuyasha. “Kia bonded with her and wishes to stay by Kagome's side. There was no reason for me to deny her request.”

 

Inuyasha nodded but remained silent. Narrowing his piercing golden gaze on the wolf, he sniffed the air and stared at the hidden form of the canine intently.

 

“That wolf is pregnant,” Inuyasha stated before turning his eyes on Ginta. “Should she be this far away from her pack?”

 

“Kia has always preferred to be by my side rather than run with the pack. She's been that way ever since she was a pup. She's a good wolf,” Ginta assured his friend. “She's loyal and protective, and she's quite fond of Kagome and her pup.”

 

“You're leaving then?” Inuyasha asked as he watched the fire rat cloth that covered Kagome move as the girl curled her arm around the wolf lying next to her.

 

“From what Kanaye told me, Sesshoumaru intends to hunt down Akira-sama - ”

 

“That I do wolf,” Sesshoumaru said as he stepped into the room and over to Kagome. “You are not to interfere.” Kneeling down next to Kagome, he touched her face. “You intend to go after the human,” the taiyoukai stated, his brow furrowed as he touched the backs of his fingers to Kagome's neck.

 

Issuing a short, low, commanding growl, Inuyasha looked at his brother who was still bent over Kagome.

 

“Your miko is fevered,” Sesshoumaru stated as he flicked his eyes down at the wolf lying beside Kagome, her thick tail thumping lightly on the floor.

 

“Yeah, I know,” the hanyou affirmed. “The healer thinks it's just from the stress of everything.”

 

His left ear twitched, in agitation or concern, he wasn't certain which. Looking down at Kagome, watching as she slept now and knowing without any doubt in his mind that in a few hours she would once again wake from nightmares of her ordeal; once again she would call for him in her sleep as tears slipped from her eyes. He knew this would occur, just as he knew he needed the air to breathe and the water to drink. He only prayed that this time, this time she got more rest than she had any of the previous times.

 

“But you don't,” Sesshoumaru stated, his piercing gaze demanding an answer.

 

“She's still having trouble keeping food down, and she's only sleeping because of the healer's potions…” Inuyasha trailed off, watching Kagome as she whimpered and jerked, her eyes opening and searching, even as her mind seemed to stay asleep. “I'm here, Kagome,” he assured her, touching his hand to her exposed calf.

 

They all watched as Kagome, half asleep and nowhere near alert, struggled weakly to her hands and knees, the fire rat cloth slipping down over her still too-thin body to pool on the floor beneath her. Taking shaking half-steps, she crawled unsteadily to Inuyasha's side. Panting her exhaustion, she whimpered gratefully when the hanyou caught her as she fell and dragged her gently into his lap. Curling up against his chest, the hanyou held her cradled against his body, wrapped securely in his arms; Kagome nuzzled her cheek against the hardness of his collarbone.

 

“Go to sleep, Kagome,” Inuyasha soothed her, one hand stroking her hair.

 

Sighing softly at the comfort his embrace gave to her, Kagome closed her eyes and felt herself sink weightlessly back down into the world of sleep. The door to the room opened once more and the hanyou stifled an irritated growl. Kirara scampered into the room without a sound; bounding to the center; she stopped and turned toward the doorway, watching intently as Miroku stepped inside carrying a sleeping Sango in his arms. Nodding to the others in the room, the monk moved over to Inuyasha and sat down slowly on the hanyou's left side, cradling Sango in his lap.

 

“She's still sleeping?” Inuyasha asked gruffly, a bit worried.

 

“Yes. That's why I've come to speak with you,” Miroku said, looking down as Sango shifted in his arms and nuzzled her face deeper into the folds of his robes. “I found her outside earlier. At first, I thought she was sleep walking…”

 

 

 

 

Something was missing. That was the only thought in Miroku's mind as his violet eyes opened and he blinked in the darkness. Lifting a hand to drag down over his face, the monk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking in a sudden, sharp breath, he sat up quickly and searched the darkness almost madly. He knew what was missing…Sango.

 

Shivering as a cold, bitter wind blew over him, the monk's eyes darted to the shoji door that led outside the house they stayed in, and saw that it stood open just enough for someone to have slipped in - or out.

 

`She's outside?' Miroku stood quickly, wrapping his outer robe around his shoulders and torso before stepping out into the night. `Kami, it's freezing out here! How can she be out here in just her sleeping robe?'

 

Wincing slightly as his bare feet stepped down onto the grass, frozen stiff from the dew and bitter cold wind, he nearly slipped, steadying himself against the knee-high platform of the wooden house before moving forward haltingly. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought the taijya out into the cold, away from the comfort of his arms. `It's going to snow soon,' he thought absently as he searched the darkness for her, the starlight not helpful to his sight. As much as he enjoyed holding her body against his at night, he found it odd that Sango kept searching him out in her sleep. She seemed more and more frightened by her dreams and sought out comfort and safety from him as she slept. `Now, if only she would be that willing to come into my arms when she was awake, too.'

 

Hissing as he stepped on a rather sharp rock, Miroku looked up to see Sango ahead of him in the darkness. She stood near a once full maple tree, it's leaves fluttering to the ground and dancing around her body in the cold wind. She was turned slightly away from him, and though he couldn't see much of her face, he could see her jaw moving rhythmically telling him that she was talking to someone…but no one was there.

 

“Sango!”

 

There was no indication that the woman had heard him call her name, not even a tensing of her body to denote she'd even sensed his presence. He opened his mouth, narrowing his eyes and called to her again, but the wind whipped his words back in his face. He walked closer, struggling against the frigid wind and shivered violently. A growl sounded next to him and he soon felt Kirara's large, warm body lean against his own, her thick silken fur a blessing in the biting cold. The wind picked up again, and he almost missed hearing the feline's mournful growling moan.

 

“I know, Kirara,” he commiserated as he walked next to the fire neko, as they both moved closer to Sango.

 

For some reason, it felt to him that Sango was beyond his reach no matter how close to her he got. The wind changed suddenly, whirling around the monk's body with the force of a great tornado before pushing forcefully at his back, nearly throwing him into Sango. His brow furrowed as he caught only half of what she said to him, but it was enough.

 

“Sango!” Miroku called to her again as he reached out to her. “There's no one there!” he called to her over the roar of the furious wind. “Kohaku isn't there!”

 

The moment his hand touched her shoulder the insanely strong wind vanished, causing them both to fall to the ground. Miroku caught Sango in his arms and rolled, taking the brunt of the impact with the frozen earth below. The woman he held was stunned momentarily and lay still against his chest before turning her head to look up at the monk pillowing her.

 

Grimacing inwardly at the tears and confusion he saw in Sango's eyes, Miroku lifted his cursed hand and cupped her cheek in his beaded palm. He waited silently, chaffing her cheekbone gently with the smooth pad of his thumb as she haltingly, brokenly spoke to him. He was patient as she told her tale, waiting until she was finished and had grown silent before tipping her face down and pressing a kiss to her brow.

 

“There was no one there, Sango,” Miroku said, hushing her gently when she attempted to protest. “I sensed no youkai or oni, no spiritual powers, nor a spirit - human or otherwise. There was no one there with you, Sango.” He spoke softly to her, petted her dark hair and encouraged her to rest her tired head on his chest. Tipping his head, he kissed her head and tucked her dark locks behind her ear. “Sango…you told me that Kohaku was there with you, you even told me that you spoke with him, but you never told me what he said to you.”

 

Sango knew what the monk was asking of her, but she wasn't certain she could answer him. Giving voice to the words her brother had spoken to her - repeating his request aloud to another - would that make it more real to her? Would the pain of his request be her final undoing? In the end, the woman lying atop the monk, taking comfort in his embrace, gave voice to the conversation she had had with her brother.

 

Nuzzling her cheek against his chest, Sango took solace in the steady beat of his heart thrumming below her ear. “Kohaku kept telling me that he was tired,” she said slowly, twisting her fingers in the folds of his robes. “He said he had to be careful, that Naraku didn't know he had all of his memories.”

 

Sango grew silent, tears slipping soundlessly from the corners of her eyes, some rolling down to fall over the bridge of her nose to pool with the others as they gathered beneath her temple and dampened Miroku's robes. Hearing the soft, gasping breaths as the taijya struggled to keep her tears silent, Miroku tightened his arms around her, feeling unnervingly helpless in the face of her despair. He knew - could sense - that there was more to the story than what she'd already told him; he could feel her hesitation to speak as more tears soaked through his robes to dampen the skin of his chest.

 

He wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her that he loved her and would always be there by her side, but the words wouldn't come, and in the end he remained silent, holding her and letting his actions tell her what his voice couldn't. Moving, shifting slowly, haltingly, Sango lifted her head, sniffling back her tears and looked down into Miroku's violet eyes. His eyes searched hers, and when she bent her head and kissed his lips, he knew what she was asking.

 

“No,” Miroku refused her gently, hating the hurt he saw in her eyes. He encouraged her to lie back down on his chest, stroking her hair when she tucked her head beneath his chin once more. “I love you, Sango,” he told her fervently, hushing her when she tried to lift up to look in his face - to see his eyes. “And someday, when you're truly ready to accept me in that manner, I will love you until the sun comes up and until it goes down again.” He kissed her hair, rubbed her back. “You're not ready to accept me like that yet, beautiful Sango. You're seeking comfort, and while I understand that feeling - that need - I won't take advantage of you like that. I love you too much to do that to you, koishii.”

 

The woman in his arms shook, trembled, one hand fisting in his robes and pressing against her mouth as tears overcame her. It may have taken her a long time to admit her love for the lecherous monk, but Sango had never loved him more than in that moment. Haltingly, her voice and body trembling, Sango told Miroku of the request her brother had made. She repeated Kohaku's words to her; told the monk of her brother's request to be allowed to return to the world of the dead - to finally, truly rest in peace.

 

Closing his eyes against the sorrow he felt for his love, Miroku encouraged her to rest - to sleep - promising to take care of her. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, and whispered to her words of comfort that escaped his memory moments later. Kissing her hair, he let his head fall back into the pillowing soft grasses he laid upon - warmed from their body heat - and waited until Sango was deeply asleep before rolling onto his side and laying her gently in the grass, careful not to wake her. Kneeling next to her, he lifted the woman into his arms and carried her inside, taking her to see Inuyasha.

 

 

The hanyou snarled, startling the monk who had finished telling his tale. Golden eyes flashed red for a single instant; his puppy ears flat against his head as his lip curled up and revealed a deadly white fang. Inuyasha couldn't believe that Naraku was messing with Sango like this; he highly doubted that the boy would be able to contact his sister on his own, especially without Naraku knowing. More than likely, it was another attempt of the vile hanyou's to destroy his pack. It was one thing for his pack to stand beside him and face down one of Naraku's incarnations in battle. Inuyasha's ears twitched, folding back and flattening against his head only to spring forward and twitch again. It was quite another thing for that damned monster to attack the female's of his pack through subterfuge and deceit, turning their own hearts and minds against them.

 

Inuyasha wasn't aware that he'd been growling - snarling - so fiercely. He didn't know that his eyes had turned red - pupils teal - and were flashing angrily, the light of his youki flashing menacingly within them. He couldn't see the jagged purple streaks that had appeared on his cheeks; the sight of them bringing caution and fear into the minds of those in the room with him. He could sense both his brother and Ginta tensing as if ready for battle, the movements - directed at him - enraging him even more. A soft, cool hand, slowly gaining warmth, brushed up over his jaw to cup his cheek with its palm.

 

“Stay with me, Inuyasha,” Kagome's tired voice called to him softly. “Come back to me.”

 

The girl in his lap moved, shifted, her soft warm lips pressing to the corner of his mouth in a gentle kiss. That chaste kiss, meant to calm him, a repeat of the one that had taken place in Kaguya's castle, wasn't nearly enough for the man or beast. Turning his head slightly, the hanyou growled as he captured Kagome's lips in a passionate, all-consuming kiss.

 

The girl in his arms whimpered, groaned as strong, sharply clawed hands sunk deep into her thick tresses, fingertips massaging her scalp. One small hand fisted in his haori, the other - still cupping his cheek - lifted up to stroke the delicate, fine hairs at the base of one puppy ear; the appendage drooped in pleasure. The growl that issued forth was one born of pure pleasure.

 

Pulling back, the miko watched as the jagged purple streaks faded from his cheeks and the red light of his youkai blood dimmed from his eyes leaving behind the shimmering gold that Kagome knew and loved so well. Sliding her hand against his, aligning their fingers, her palm pressed loose and flat against his, she studied how small and delicate her hand was compared to his. Slowly sliding her hand further up his own, her eyes met his and the hanyou gasped, golden eyes widening when her delicate skin brushed along the tips of his razor sharp claws so trustingly. Folding her fingers down over the tops of his claws, she gripped the tops of his fingers between her warm palm and soft fingertips; feeling the tips of his claws making small indentations in her skin without ever breaking the delicate flesh.

 

Looking deeply into his golden eyes, her own melted chocolate orbs as warm and open as they were serious and compelling, she spoke.

 

“I trust you.”

 

She placed her palm over his heart. “Human.”

 

Raising the hand from his heart, she rubbed the base of his left ear, smiling softly at the feel of the silken fur beneath her fingers. “Hanyou.”

 

The hand holding his claws tightened. “Youkai.”

 

She watched his eyes widen in shock, in awe, as she lifted both hands to cup his face and tilted his head down to kiss his brow. “I've always trusted you, Inuyasha,” she whispered to him.

 

Kagome gasped her surprise at the sudden crushing strength of his arms holding her tightly to his chest. Inuyasha buried his face in her neck, breathing in deeply of her scent and feeling her arms wrap around his back to stroke his hair as she returned his embrace. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve a woman like Kagome, but he would protect her and he would cherish her with his last dying breath. In doing so, he hoped that she would never stop loving him.

 

 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

 

The dull whir and blip of sirens was distorted and echoed off concrete walls and support columns of the second basement level of the underground parking garage. Red and blue lights flashed and rotated off walls, cars and signs, illuminating dark shadows even as they cast harsh lines on the skin and clothing of the men and women mulling about. Radios chirped, voices - nasal and hollow - sounded over and through the static as car doors opened and slammed shut.

 

An older man in a dark tan suit and black trench coat, both two years too old to be fashionable, stepped toward a uniformed officer who looked to be fresh out of the academy. Flipping open the single fold, leather book, the man flashed a gold shield and ID proclaiming him to be a homicide detective. The young man nodded and lifted the yellow police tape, permitting the man entrance to the crime scene behind him.

 

“Detective,” the young officer spoke up, his voice surprisingly deep, “Special Agents McFadden and Linden are here. They said to inform you specifically.”

 

“What are the Feds doing here?” the detective grumbled, confused. Wasn't this just your average `body found in car'?

 

“John.” The detective turned as his name was called. “Come over here, will you?”

 

Detective John Belfry nodded to a man he'd known since high school: Special Agent Michael Linden. Running his hand through his thick, salt and pepper hair, John pocketed his credentials and stepped over to the car beside which the man stood. The senior detective of the Butte, Montana Police Department waited as Special Agent Linden from the Special Investigative Unit opened the trunk lid of the '94 Volkswagen Jetta.

 

“Tell me that isn't who I think it is,” Agent Linden demanded of his friend.

 

“God, no,” John gasped and nearly whimpered when he looked at the discolored face of the woman lying bound and dead in the trunk. “That's her, Mike,” his voice choked and breathy. “That's Patricia Higurashi.”

 

 

 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

 

She groaned, whimpered in abject misery, as she pulled one of the many silk-lined fur blankets that were piled on top of her up over her head. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she buried her face beneath the feather and buckwheat pillow. The pillow was one that had been made especially for her - a present for her birthday. Normally soft as a one imagined a cloud might be, it now felt as though the embroidered silk case was filled with wood chips and stones.

 

Biting her lip to keep from crying out when the blanket covering her head was pulled away, the girl kept her eyes tightly shut as a cold hand rested on her fevered brow. Light hurt. Sound hurt, and she groaned when a soft feminine voice offered her words of comfort. Pulling away from the woman's hand, the girl on the futon whimpered; touch hurt the most. Her skin felt as though it was burning, her head pounding fiercely while her stomach churned madly.

 

Two thin, almost talon-like, leathered fingers stroked gently down her cheek and over her brow before resting in her palm, a third talon-like finger chaffing the back of her small hand. A high-pitched, nasal voice spoke to the woman, concern - just on the edge of panic - coloring his tone. She whimpered again, calling out his name. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? He hadn't even said goodbye to her before he'd left. He always said goodbye.

 

She sniffled back tears, feeling as though she were underwater. Her ears felt clogged, no sounds - no words - were clear. The closer she got to full consciousness, the clearer the words being spoken became. But with consciousness came an increase in the pain she felt and the sick feeling twisting her stomach into knots became almost too intense to handle, and when she finally did open her eyes, the room around her spun.

 

“Take her to Musashi, to the village just beyond Inuyasha's Forest,” the high-pitched male voice said. “There is an old miko there named Kaede. Stay with her there until I come for you.”

 

“And you, Jakken?” the female kitsune asked, her green eyes concerned as she tipped the child's head up slightly and pressed the rim of a delicately carved silver goblet to her lips. “Drink, sweetie, it will help.”

 

“I must find Sesshoumaru-sama. Go to sleep, Rin,” he soothed when the child whimpered at the sound of her adoptive father's name. “Go to sleep.”

 

 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

 

 

She knew she was growling, snarling even. She could feel her youkai clawing its way to the surface, demanding to be released, and just knew her eyes were glowing red. She didn't want to be calmed, didn't want to be pacified. What she wanted was the blood of the man who was threatening her pack sister.

 

“Calm yourself, wolf,” Sesshoumaru spoke evenly, unfazed by her anger. “I share your rage, but he is human, and so is she. In this we cannot interfere. You know as well as I, Ayame, that the miko will survive this.”

 

“After nearly a year of mental and spiritual torture!” she raged, the broken pieces of her cell phone falling from her clenched hand to land soundlessly on the plush carpet below her feet. “She nearly died three times! How do you know that you didn't interfere before?”

 

Sesshoumaru leveled a stare at the red headed she-wolf. Ayame wouldn't be calmed, refused to allow his assurances to comfort her. He thought back to those distant memories of so long ago. He remembered Kagome's struggle; could still almost smell the salt of her tears, the bittersweet tang of her fear. He still remembered all the sleepless nights he'd endured after moving Kagome and her pack of misfits into his castle in the Western Lands while Inuyasha had returned to her world - this world - to hunt down the one responsible.

 

“I know, wolf,” Sesshoumaru spoke low, demanding her full attention, “because I still remember the scent of blood on Inuyasha's claws.”

 

Ayame fell heavily into the padded black armchair behind her, the fight suddenly gone from her, leaving her with only a sense of resigned defeat in its wake as she dropped her face into her hands and sighed heavily. She let her palms slide slowly down her face until only her fingertips covered her lips and looked up at Sesshoumaru, her eyes sad and pleading.

 

“Why?” she begged an answer from the inu-no-taisho. “Why must she go through this pain?”

 

Although his expression never once showed it, he sympathized with Ayame, shared her desire to protect the miko. Coming to stand in front of his cherry wood desk, he leaned back against it and crossed his ankles and arms.

 

“Do you remember the final battle against Naraku?” He waited as she remained silent, watching as she nodded slowly. “Do you remember the strength of Kagome's arrows and how Kikyou's power paled in comparison?” Again Ayame nodded, once again choosing to remain silent. “This battle for her soul, and ultimately her sanity, strengthened the miko beyond anything that any amount of training could have. If not for having endured what she did - what she will - she would not have been able to defeat Naraku.”

 

Accepting the cornflower blue mug of dark rich coffee that Sesshoumaru's mate handed her with a nod of thanks, Ayame turned to her.

 

“Kagura, I didn't hear you come in,” Ayame greeted the wind sorceress.

 

“It's been awhile, Ayame,” Kagura returned with a welcoming smile. “How's Kenji?”

 

“He's good.” Ayame sat silently for a moment, the tension from Kagura's unspoken question thick in the air. “Kenji discovered the identity of the dark sorcerer.”

 

Kagura remained silent as her mind processed what Ayame was telling her. Her magenta eyes widened in surprise before quickly narrowing in anger. Sesshoumaru could feel the snap and crackle of rage in his mate's aura, could feel the powerful swell of her youkai as her eyes glowed the color of fresh blood with the force of her youki.

 

“Who?” the wind sorceress growled low, dangerously.

 

“Her uncle.”

 

All heads turned at the sound of Ginta's angry voice. The human woman leaning against his side, wrapped in his arm, looked half asleep. Ayame stood quickly and took Kina from Ginta's embrace, guiding the woman to sit in the chair she had just vacated. Sesshoumaru and Kagura studied the newcomer curiously, the wind sorceress's eyes widening in surprise seconds before she addressed the woman.

 

“Tell me,” Kagura said, stepping away from Sesshoumaru and toward Kina, “are you Kagome's mother?”

 

Kina nodded, struggling to grasp onto the last vestiges of consciousness as the sound of Ginta's soft rumbling growls robbed her of the ability to stay awake. Kagura looked up at the wolf youkai when her sensitive hearing registered the sound of his almost silent growling. She knew the technique quite well, Sesshoumaru having used it on herself quite a few times when she couldn't sleep or had woken with nightmares of Naraku.

 

“What is it that you don't want your mate to know, wolf?” Sesshoumaru demanded of Ginta.

 

“Shiro came to the shrine last night, searching for Kagome,” Ginta said and lifted a brow at the blank stares he received from the inu-no-taisho and his mate. “Shiro is Kina's brother; he's also the dark sorcerer,” he said, his eyes darkening as he revealed a truth he wished he could deny. “I swear he smelled like Naraku.”

 

 

 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

 

 

His blue eyes shone in the harsh, angry red light of the sinking sun. The deep, contrasting colors of the sunset bled together in the sky above his head as twinkling stars began to appear on the blue-black horizon. Turning his attention to the red haired youkai approaching him, he waited for the news his companion would bring. Green eyes that shone like emeralds in the sun looked like dark jade in the fading light, yet still had the ability to hold him fast with their piercing gaze.

 

“He's in there with one of the members of the panther youkai tribe. They've been negotiating treaty and ally proposals for the past two days. They've reached an impasse that neither party is willing to budge on.”

 

“And that would be?” the blue-eyed youkai demanded.

 

“The price given to the one that brings her in alive.”

 

 

Blue eyes narrowed, a low snarling growl sounding like thunder from the youkai. “Why do they want her?”

 

“The humans want her for a gift. Giving her to the panther youkai tribe will assure that they get the lands and other demands that they want. The panther youkai tribe wants her because they believe that the offering of her blood will return their master who was slain by her and her mate.”

 

His dark hair fluttered in the wind for only seconds when Kanaye's strong hand wrapped around his bicep and held him fast, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“If you go in there now, Kouga, you risk not only your own life, but hers as well. We still don't know yet if either party has sent hunters out after Kagome or not.”

 

“Then why didn't you stay and listen more?” Kouga snarled angrily, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“They've all retired for the evening.”

 

Kanaye shook his head at the impulsive wolf prince. How would this young pup ever successfully lead his pack if he didn't learn to think things through and be battle wise instead of letting the heat of battle and emotion cloud his mind? Even Inuyasha, brash and hotheaded as they came, knew enough to slow down and form a battle plan.

 

“When all of this is over, wolf, you should come to the Western Lands and train with Sesshoumaru-sama.”

 

Kouga eyed the kitsune next to him suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as they darkened to a storm-cloud blue. “Why would I want to do that?”

 

“To train, baka,” Kanaye replied, half wanting to slap the arrogant wolf upside his head. “You know how to fight. And while that's good, wolf, it's not nearly enough. To rule and successfully lead your tribe you need to become a great taiyoukai. That means training, and lots of it. Battle planning, diplomacy, leadership - true leadership, not just throwing your weight around as you see fit - and those are just for starters. You can't lead your pack by snapping at their heels. You need to learn to lead them by example. Support them, be their strength even when you feel like doing nothing more than falling down. That's what it means to be taiyoukai, Kouga. That's what you need to learn.”

 

The kitsune's speech - his revelation, his epiphany, left Kouga motionless and speechless as well. He stared straight ahead at the forest in front of them. He wasn't sure what to think, but he knew that Kanaye was right. As it stood now, Ginta had better leadership skills than he did. Once everything with Kagome was taken care of and the threats against her were neutralized, he would have time to truly consider Kanaye's recommendation. He had so much to think about now, and he gave a mental groan as a dull throbbing began behind his right eye.

 

 

 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

 

 

 

He was worried. There were no two ways about it, and no comforting efforts could chase the worry away. He was on edge, had been for the past week - ever since Ginta had disappeared with his mother. He had gone so far recently as to take Shasta, a golden retriever-American Timber wolf mix, everywhere he went. Looking down at the Yugi-oh watch his sister had given him nearly a year ago for being ranked in the top two-percentile of his grade school class, he twisted the rubber-plastic band around his wrist - chaffing the skin beneath.

 

Wandering out into the forested back yard behind the stone and wood mansion, Souta kicked off his shoes and tucked his socks inside the black sneakers. He let his feet slide through the thick grass, damp from the rainfall the night before. He had hoped that in doing so he would feel closer to his sister and her hanyou love that he idolized. Instead, he felt nothing.

 

The wolf-dog by his side whined up at him, not understanding the darkness and loneliness that had suddenly colored his scent. No one knew, everyone thought him little more than a child - no one understood. Did they think he didn't care? His mother and sister were being tormented and torn apart by something he couldn't see, something he heard them all say that they couldn't fight. He hadn't seen Kagome for almost three months now - or had it been four?

 

That was another thing, the boy silently raged as he kicked at a few stray sticks in the grass. He couldn't accurately determine the passing of time anymore. Some days passed by so slowly that he thought they would never end, while others flew by so quickly that he thought them little more than a dream. He hadn't seen his grandfather in a while either, and while he knew the older man was off visiting friends - what would happen when he came home and no one was there?

 

His foot slipped in the wet grass and he fell to lie on his back; Shasta trotted over to stand next to him, her tail wagging as she looked down at him. Souta didn't know if he was angry, scared, or just plain crazy. His mother had quite effectively pulled both he and his sister out of school until further notice, citing a family emergency.

 

Raising a hand up to pet the thick fur covering Shasta's shoulder, Souta looked up at the cloud covered sun. A strange sort of calm, an almost cold emptiness, settled over the boy. He let his fingers sink down into the thick fur of the animal next to him until he was idly massaging the corded muscle beneath. He sighed deeply a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the wolf-dog laid down beside him and rested her head on his chest.

 

Was this how it would be from now on, he wondered. By no means was he at all displeased with where he was or the people he was with…but he couldn't help but hate the events that had led them all to this place, left them in this situation. Would his sister ever be safe again? Would his mother's eyes ever shine again with happiness that wasn't clouded by worry or fear? Or would they always live with the threat of his uncle looming dangerously in the background?

 

Reaching into his right front pocket, Souta retrieved and old and yellowing piece of parchment paper that he had carefully folded in a small enough square to fit inside his palm. He had come across the old tome containing this particular page late last night when he'd been to restless to sleep, and though he'd known it was a bad idea as he was doing it, he'd torn the page from the book and snuck it back to his room before anyone was the wiser.

Taking great care in unfolding the paper, he read and reread the ancient ritual and spell written in medieval Japanese.

 

I could do this, Souta thought as he read through the instructions of the ritual. In fact, I'm the only one that can.

 

The torn paper he was studying held a spell - a ritual - to call back a soul from the afterlife. Specifically, it would be able to call back his father's soul. In order to work, the spell required the offering of the heir's blood - his blood. Folding the paper and tucking it carefully back into his pocket, they boy relaxed back into the grass in which he laid and thought about the next move he would make and how he could successfully perform the spell without anyone interfering.

 

Dad, when I do this, I hope it makes everything okay again. I hope you can make us safe again.

 

 

 

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