InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tale of the Twins ❯ Chapter Twenty-Eight: Snow ( Chapter 28 )

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

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Snow

Kuraimaru forced his way onward. Hell, had he picked a horrible time to try to cross the mountain range. A blizzard was brewing. He needed to get out of it soon. His dog form could take this for a little longer, but it was not going to last him through the night. With all of his demonic abilities, it did almost no good whatsoever.

He couldn't see; couldn't smell, couldn't hear.

Everything was a blinding white, the scent of frozen water, and the howling of the wind.

The only real bonus was that he had some relief from the cold in his true form.

Humans called him a werewolf. He supposed it was better that than calling him a youkai. They at least were afraid enough of a werewolf to stay away. A youkai? Ha. They'd be chasing after him in an angry mob, crucifixes bared, torches ablaze, pitchforks ready. It was comical, actually.

He hadn't so much as seen another youkai since he had left Shuarra that night almost sixty years ago. There were whispers of real demons, but that was all they ever were—whispers.

Despite all of his searching, he couldn't find them. He was considering abandoning the New World and going back to the old in search of youkai. And dragons. They were all gone too.

But the important thing right now was making it through the night. One paw foreword, sniff. Nothing. Another brutally painful step. It was so cold. How could anything survive here?

Sniff. Nothing. He continued walking, forcing himself onward. He was getting kind of tired.

Maybe he should lie down. Just for a moment… He was so tired.

So… tired.

He realized that he had stopped moving. Good. It hurt to move.

His body was so numb that he wasn't feeling the cold so much anymore. He felt kind of warm, actually. That was strange. To be so warm in the middle of a blizzard.

He collapsed in the snow, white fur on white snow.

So tired.

He tried to keep his eyes open. He could rest, but sleeping out here was dangerous. If he ever woke up, he'd be buried.

Slowly, his eyes started closing. He forced them open. No. Had to stay awake.

Why?

He couldn't remember.

Something about dying if you fell asleep.

He closed his eyes.

He might die out here.

He didn't really give a damn.

It was just too cold. Too cold. Cold? No, it was warm. Warm…

He was too tired.

That was it. He was too tired to care. He had to go to sleep. He wouldn't make it like this.

He wouldn't make it if he lied in the snow either.

If he can't win either way, why bother?

Something hot hit him suddenly. Violently. His eyes snapped open. Burning fur. Pain on his right side.

He bolted upright suddenly, awake and ready to defend himself. His leg still burned from the attack. What could have possibly done that?

Shuarra Meitsuki?

No, it couldn't be her. She wouldn't be up here. Still, he couldn't help but hope it was his little sister.

He sniffed the air. Something new picked up.

No, not Shuarra Meitsuki. Not Naraku either, and definitely not Sesshoumaru. Not Jaken either. Not Iria.

Was this…? Could it possibly be another youkai? That it was attacking him was rather disappointing though.

Something landed. He could feel it. He couldn't see it; the snow was too thick, but he could sure as hell smell it. It had a distinct reptilian scent, mixed with something like charcoal and ash. “I'm sorry; I didn't know any other way to wake you. Come with me,” it yelled above the wind. He had to strain to hear the words, let alone the voice.

“I can't see you,” Kuraimaru responded.

“I'll stay upwind of you. You can track me, can't you?”

“I can.”

No more words were said. He followed the youkai. If it had intended to eat him, it could have by now. His flesh was already healing from the burn.

He forced himself to keep walking, even when his body protested the movement. Even when his every desire was to go to sleep, he refused. He couldn't do that. Not right now. He could do that later. Much later—when it was safe to do so.

The scent suddenly vanished. He froze. Scents did not vanish. If it could fly and suddenly lifted off, it would leave a lingering scent. So, something had happened, or possibly… He shook it off and continued in the direction he had been headed, nose to the ground trying to follow the elusive and fading scent.

He had walked right into a cave that smell predominantly of the creature. He went back further, where it had disappeared. Into the depths of the cave, there was light. It looked like a fire. He was suddenly joyous at the sight of it.

He trotted over to it and laid down before it without looking at his new host. Finally, he looked at the creature.

Well, damn.

It was probably just a bit larger than him, with no distinguishable gender. Its scales were a crimson red. Its claws were black, its eyes a deeper, darker red.

It was a European dragon.

It folded its wings against itself, and twitched its head, carefully shaking off the water droplets that had collected on its scales.

“Isn't it a bit cold for a lizard?” he wondered.

It looked at him. “Not when that lizard is half furnace.” It had an accent that he distinguished as being English, so it was probably from England. It came as a bit of a shock, really.

An English, European dragon. A real one. Possibly the last of its kind.

Shuarra Meitsuki had slowly gotten over her brother's departure. It had taken her two years, but she no longer lived in his room. She still slept in there on occasion, but it was a lot easier now.

Sesshoumaru and Naraku noticed that something about her—no, everything about her—had changed dramatically since her brother left. She didn't get in to trouble very much. She obeyed usually. She was respectful.

But she didn't laugh as much. She didn't want to do any more crazy things. She wasn't as cheerful.

It was disheartening, and everyone tried to get her back to normal. But after five years passed, everyone just gave up. What else could they do? That had been a long time ago, it seemed.

Shuarra Meitsuki couldn't help but feel guilty about not being able to be as happy as she used to be, but she just felt… Like something was missing. Gone. Like her intestines had suddenly vanished or something. It just felt wrong. It felt lonely.

Her best friend was gone.

“How long has he been gone?” Sesshoumaru wondered before going off to sleep.

Naraku looked at him, trying to gauge the exact length of time. Time was usually lost on Sesshoumaru. “Almost sixty years.”

The dog sighed softly. “Shuarra Meitsuki will never be the same again.”

Naraku shook his head in agreement. “No. She won't. Time has already taken its toll.” He looked out the open window with remorse. “The Shuarra Meitsuki we used to know is probably already gone. If Kuraimaru came back tonight, I don't think that she would recover completely.”

Sesshoumaru looked at Naraku. “You're worried that she's going to die, aren't you.” It wasn't even a question.

Naraku didn't say anything for a while, but, finally, he voiced his answer. “Yes. Youkai usually die if they lose interest in being alive. Sometimes, I wonder if that wouldn't be the best thing for her.”

Sesshoumaru didn't respond. He knew it was probably true.

The way she looked out the windows, staring at nothing in particular—sometimes for hours. She ate little. She spoke little. She slept often, but it was as if that was all she ever did—trying to reclaim some dream where her twin existed, as if that was, quite possibly, the only place he was alive.

For all they knew… It was true.

Kuraimaru used to write them letters. They wouldn't come too often, but he would write them. Sometimes, it was four times yearly, sometimes, less. Even when they moved, the letters kept coming. But, slowly, the letters stopped coming. Those letters, for a long time, were all that held Shuarra together. When they stopped coming, it had shattered her spirit a second time.

She had read and reread those old letters, read the ink right off of the page. But there was no hint, no clue, that he was going away. Not a single trace of a word where he might have hinted at leaving the New World, or venturing out of reach.

“If Kuraimaru really is dead,” Sesshoumaru said carefully. “It would be the best thing for her to die.”

They had no way of knowing if he was really dead or alive. Only Shuarra Meitsuki insisted that he was not. Even after over twenty years of not even a word, a letter, not even a rumour of a huge white dog roaming the countryside, she refused to believe that he was dead. Sesshoumaru was the first to accept that his son was quite probably dead. Naraku, slowly, against his well, accepted that too. Iria realized the possibility as well. In time, even Rin relented and accepted that he may be dead.

But Shuarra Meitsuki did not.

They couldn't say for sure any more whether it was a twin's intuition, or a desperate desire to believe that he was alive.

No one wanted to know if it were one or the other.