InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Heart Within ❯ Chapter Twenty-Nine ( Chapter 31 )

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

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.THE HEART WITHINSummary: She has carried vengeance in her shadowed heart for 500 years, sacrificing her self for that dream. Now, Sango just might get her chance… (IY/YYH crossover) A/N: Again, I have wrapped this story around the Three Kings’ saga, and it will be disjointed, as I do not want to rewrite what the original anime told so well. I will try and explain some of the scenes, but if they seem off or you need more of an explanation, please feel free to email me through fanfictionnet. I can assure you that I have the next five chapters already written, and they should be up soon, once I’ve edited and banged my head over them a few times. (Oh, the joys of self-question among the nail-nibbled doubt of an opened thesaurus---LOL!)
WARNING! SPOILERS FOR YYH CHAPTER BLACK, THE THREE KINGS SAGA

Chapter Twenty-Nine

He had spent five days in this hell of blood and fury and unending battle. The demons attacked him constantly, their numbers slowly increasing as he slaughtered each band sent against him. It was a mindless, bloody, constant slaughter, and his world narrowed to the next slash, the next jab, the next raking swipe of his sharpened talons across demon flesh. The dragon tattooed on his arm pulsed with a purple-black light, energized by the seething rage that suffused him, growling across the back of his thoughts in exultation as he vanquished each foe set upon him.

He was allowed few times to rest and recover his strength between bloody bouts that slowly rose in number. First ten, then twenty, then thirty, and now fifty were sent against him, and he killed them all, down to the last raging beast. A-class, all of them, and some fought dirty and some fought hard, and some sunk a few good hits that let his blood splash across the fleshy floor, where it disappeared as the spider-beetle hungrily absorbed it. But he always prevailed in the end, as he would always prevail, so long as he pushed all other thoughts aside and concentrated on simply staying alive.

But the thoughts intruded, and the weakening emotions that came with them. Passion. Hunger. Longing. Anger, and surprisingly, regret. Her face distracted him at the most inconvenient moments, and he cursed the damn taiji-ya, and then cursed himself for letting it bother him so fucking much.

The screams of rage and challenge rose around him, and tightening his grip on his bloody katana, he raised it again to fight. Training, the King called it. “Hn.”


She had told him everything. Or everything she could between wracking sobs as he simply held her, murmuring words he couldn’t recall as she wept for all she had lost. The brittle walls she had hastily erected around the pain to protect herself in numb avoidance had come tumbling down when she saw the wolf demon, Kouga. A demon she had known in the Sengoku Jidai, and one who could not know her now, for a hasty promise made for the cruel amusement of a malicious demon Kurama had only heard rumor of. Shigure, Surgeon of the Damned. Damned he was, to have extracted such a terrible oath for the demon heart he had implanted inside the slayer’s chest. If ever he saw the bastard, Kurama knew with cold clarity that he would kill him.

The awfulness of her pointless promise sat heavily on his mind, for he knew Sango was too honorable to go against a promise, even one made so hastily. Although Kurama would have considered the vow given under duress, and grayed the areas of her black-and-white principles, Hiei was like that, too, and the fox understood how much their honor meant to both of them.

He understood, oh too well, the significant blow Sango had been dealt after learning her whole life’s purpose had been in vain from the start. The brother she had hoped to save, the demon she had hoped to kill---both were dead before she had even found the wind-demoness’s heart and brought it to that despicable surgeon. The bitter, lonely years after were too hard to contemplate, though Kurama understood that, too, and wondered anew how she had kept herself from being consumed by the despair and hatred.

She finally slept, wearied by the tears she had spent against him. Kurama twisted a silky black lock of her hair around his finger, and watched the fine threads slither free one by one. She was so small to have born such weight upon her shoulders. So small, and yet so strong. He was humbled by the strength of her spirit, and his eyes softened as he studied the tear-streaked face. Such a delicate face, yet so sharp in outline. Her lips were swollen from where she’d bitten them, trying so stubbornly to hold back her tears, and the sooty feathers of her thick lashes lay against the drawn pallor of her creamy skin. She looked so fragile, and yet it hid an inner steel that had seen her through horrific trials he could only guess at.

He was surprised by the tenderness she evoked within him, the compassion and pity, and wondered what it might mean for the half-formed plans he was about to put into play. It would not be in the slayer’s best interests to take her in such a vulnerable state to the unknown intrigues of Yomi’s court.

Yomi’s court. The very idea of Youko’s former best friend and second-in-command rising in power enough to challenge Raizen and Mukuro for supreme control over demon world was completely unexpected. When he’d known Yomi---or rather, when Youko had known him---the demon had been a brash, disdainful man who took too much delight in the hunt for treasure, and not enough in the treasure itself. Power was what drove him, to reckless acts that had killed many of their men. Youko had forgiven Yomi, again and again, for they were close, as close as the bandit-thief would allow. Closer than lovers, actually, for Youko had always loved his friends more than his many amours. The fox had rescued Yomi countless times from his own foolishness, until the friendship had grown too costly, Yomi’s brash acts too dangerous to ignore any longer.

Youko had been quick to cut off the bad seed that had threatened to spread its poison among all their men, and thus endanger the whole band. Finding a mercenary-assassin strong enough to kill the demon was easy enough, as was setting up the trap that Yomi fell head-first into, just as the fox had known he would. It was so easy to manipulate those you knew best.

Kurama frowned. Yes, it had been easy for Youko to manipulate Yomi into the situation that should have killed him. But somehow, the demon had survived, and not only survived, but prospered. He wondered if Yomi had changed at all over the passing centuries, due to his blindness, and again, the haunting phrase at the end of his Spirit of Words, about finally finding “the one who stole the light from me” was really true.

If it was, than Kurama did not know what kind of reception to expect of Yomi. Although the King had reassured him that he valued and needed his assistance in these uncertain times, Kurama did not know if it just hid a trap he was willfully walking into. But Yomi knew how to manipulate him, by piquing his curiosity, and Kurama felt guilty for what Youko had considered an evil necessity at the time.

Ah, well, those were questions he would have answered when he arrived, and not before. For now, it was enough to follow Sango’s lead, and catch what sleep he could. Within three days, they would arrive at the city, and either Yomi would welcome his old friend or seek revenge on the half-human the silver fox had become.


He awoke just as dawn was breaking. The light edged across the coral sky, turning the lazy purple clouds a dark indigo and burnt rust. The slayer was warm against him, her tousled head bent into the crook of his shoulder. His skin prickled beneath her slow, even breaths, and he stared down at her, watching as the growing light turned various strands in her dark hair a rich chestnut as the fiery glow of the hidden sun slowly crept across her skin. He looked up, wary of the red splendor of the morning sky, and remembered the old adage, “Red sun by morning, sailor take warning.” Although it was a human saying, it was just as true in Makai. It would storm later, perhaps strong enough that they would need to seek shelter.

But for now the morning was bursting forth in all its late spring glory. A bird sang madly, and the slayer stirred, slowly opening her eyes and blinking up at him in confusion. She was so achingly beautiful in her vulnerability---perhaps because she did not let anyone see it that often---that he could not help himself. Tightening his arms around her, Kurama bent his head, shifting her slightly so he could draw her mouth up to his. Her lips were so soft, so tempting, he longed to trace his tongue across them, see if he could draw from her the passionate response of before...

But the flash of pain in her deep brown eyes made him pause, his mouth mere inches from hers. The tension was palpable as she stiffened, recollections flickering through her darkening gaze as her fingers spread, palm flattening against his chest to stop him. The stark emotion in her haunted eyes made Kurama curse Hiei for his selfish stupidity, and not for the first time.

Although he knew, and even understood, the fears that drove the apparition to do what he had, Kurama could not help but blame Hiei for the pain it caused Sango. Burdened by so much already, to be left alone at such a time, after sharing such intimacy---that was nearly unforgivable.

But Kurama, cursed to see and consider all sides of a situation, could not condemn Hiei for what was, in the end, something he, himself, might have done if given similar circumstances. Hiei’s fears where his fears---that becoming too involved, too affected, and too vulnerable to another might open the way up for a loss of control that was too hard to contemplate. Yes, he understood very well why Hiei had done what he’d done, and perhaps it was for the best that Sango was still so affected by it. For it gave him the icy knowledge that what he would do could only wound her further, and he did not want that. She deserved better of him.

Of both of them.

The knowledge sat heavily on him, and left an ache that it should not. For it was to protect the slayer from himself---and the inevitable heartache that could only come from any sort of relationship between them---that had him smoothly altering his intended kiss into a gentle press of his lips against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he said, carefully hiding the sudden sense of sorrow behind polite concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Ah…” She flushed, uncomfortably looking away, and he was glad she could not see the wry twist of his lips as he resigned himself to the inevitable role he must play.

“Sango, I am your friend,” he put extra emphasis on the last word, and felt the silent tension drain away as she looked back up at him with frank relief in her troubled gaze.

“I...thank you, Kurama,” she said, falling back into formality as she made a slight half-bow. He ached to see it, but welcomed the barrier it would put between them. A barrier necessary to protect her from being hurt again---and this time, by him.

“There’s no need,” he demurred, and wished it was true.


Kurama’s gentle reassurance soothed Sango’s troubled spirit more than he could ever know. His easy manner, as if nothing had occurred last night other than one friend comforting another, dispelled her acute embarrassment over what had, and let her regain some of the pride she’d lost in that weak moment.

The release of her pent-up pain left her drained, but calm and accepting. She still hurt, but it was not so overwhelming, and something she knew would eventually heal. She just had to give herself time. Time to adjust and accept and mourn those lost to her forever. Perhaps one day she could look beyond it, to rediscover that in life which made each day welcomed rather than just tolerated. But for now it was enough to take it one day at a time, exist in the here and now, and let the quiet comfort of the forest console her.

The wilderness they traveled through was untouched by the seething tension underlying so much of Murkuro’s territory, and not empty and abandoned like the mountain forests of Raizen’s. Here, nature was allowed to live untroubled by the struggles of more powerful youkai, and the quiet constancy of that natural cycle salved Sango’s aching awareness that life did go on. She could accept the past, bury her brother’s memory under the aching regret of not saving him, and accept that he was truly gone. It even helped to comfort her a little to think his troubled soul now lay at peace with the others of her village.

She could finally accept, too, the bitter draught of Hiei’s leaving. She couldn’t fault him, not really, when it was her who had so desperately turned to him, clutching at anything that night to deny the raw pain inside her. She’d seen that desperation with others---after a battle, when they sought to chase away the proximity of death in the arms of another. It was a very human reaction, a need to prove that life was still there, closer than death.

Still, it hurt. She knew that that, too, would eventually heal, as long as she gave herself time. But she hated how her breath would come short, her heart contracting sharply, when she happened to glimpse a pair of red eyes glowing beneath the dark shadows of a tree just before some youkai animal fled their approach. Hard, too, was when Kurama would lay a light hand on her arm or shoulder, and her skin would tingle for long moments after his warmth left hers in a way that was too---well, she didn’t know what it was, but it troubled her, and made her edgy and restless and uncertain. So she deliberately pushed it aside, giving herself time to deal with it, maybe come to terms later with whatever it was.

Time. That was what she needed now.


@
The capital city dominated the skyline, its glittering lights twinkling amid the murky shadows that swathed the base in a thick fog of demonic energy. Wreathed by grasslands where giant, flat-topped trees made strange islands in the sky, like opened umbrellas, the wide valley fanned out before them. Wild forest grew right to the edge of the cliff they stood upon, the face sheered off to show the rich red-brown soil that made the plain below so fertile.

Lightning snaked over the skyscrapers, glinting off the silver metal before thunder rolled out across the valley. Sango shivered, for the purple clouds seemed to linger over the shadowed city, as if the strong concentration of jyaki there drew them. She glanced up at Kurama, who stood beside her, pack casually slung over one shoulder, his long, red hair whipping in the rising wind.

She wondered what he was thinking, but her attention was snagged by a sharp ripple in the energy fields surrounding them. “Kurama,” she hissed, drawing her knife and shying to one side as Kurama hand-sprang away. He barely avoided the three feet of lethal steel that slammed into the ground right where they’d been.

There were three of them---no, four---for the fourth broke off from the others to swing his sword at Sango’s head. She barely held off the long blade with her knife, and grunted as he pressed his advantage. Dark eyes glittered above a metal chin-guard, and he said something she missed for the wind whistling in her ears as she swung her free hand up to slam him with her glowing fist.

He flopped through the air like a fish, landing with a hard thud. She glanced back at Kurama, worried that he was outnumbered, but he had already reduced the three to two by casually slinging the first one into a tree using his thorny vines. The tree cracked in half, the top falling over with a loud shudder as the hapless demon sprawled over the stump, gutted by the razor-sharp slivers.

The other two demons charged the kitsune together. Sango sprang forward to help, but was yanked back by a hard grip on her long ponytail. “Not so fast, little girl.”

*Damn it!* She should have made sure of that jerk. Twisting around, she planted a foot in his belly and kicked the sword out of his hand. It flew through the air, end over end, finally digging point-first into the earth. He slipped a dagger free, and they grappled in earnest. They were well-matched---she just a little quicker, he just a little stronger.

“Aren’t you the feisty one,” the demon purred, his dark eyes bleeding with the challenge. His long, black hair whipped in the rising breeze of her growing ire over how long it was taking for her to kill him.

She sneered, wishing she had more than just a poniard so she could make him eat those words. They circled and clashed, their fight taking them further and further away from the cliff and deeper into the forest. He was good, and knew what he was doing. By fighting in such close quarters, she could not stop to summon any of her wind techniques, which took too much time in the lightning-fast moves needed to keep him away.

She tried every dirty trick she knew, and finally managed to slam an elbow into his head. Ears ringing, he back-flipped to avoid her swipe for his throat. She followed, and again, it was a circling dance of two warriors too well-matched to get a good hit in. Fretting at the minutes ticking by, Sango barely avoided his sharp claws, which he had just elongated with a snarl for how long it was taking to kill her.

Now the claws were out---literally, on his part---anything was fair game. Losing her compunctions against hitting an opponent there, Sango rolled underneath him and slammed a glowing fist right into his crotch. He howled, abruptly dropping his knife to hold his privates and fall to the ground. It was her turn to yank his head back with a hard grip on his long hair, knife held to his throat as she used her knee to pin him to the dirt.

“Yield, demon,” she growled between heavy pants to catch her breath. Loathed to kill him when she might get useful information, she pressed the knife deeper. He hissed, but finally nodded when the sharp edge drew blood.

“I yield,” he grudgingly spat, and she forced him up with an ungracious tug on his hair.

“Now, let’s go join your fellows, hmm?” She smoothly kicked his knife out of reach, and begrudged the time it took to retrieve his sword. It was a little too heavy and broad for her, but it was easier to keep the stumbling demon in line as she force-marched him back to the cliff, where she’d left Kurama fighting his comrades.

Retracing their steps, she realized just how far their fight had taken them into the woods. She sent her senses along the wind, as Jin had taught her, using the jyaki to map out three dead demons whose fading energy signatures matched the lout in front of her. Sango frowned in worry, picking out a tremendous aura that faced the fox, and hustled her prisoner into a lurching run.

That aura---it was as powerful as the other kings. It must be Yomi, who had perhaps come to the fox’s aid. Kurama had said they were expected---though he hadn’t explained much past that, and Sango had been too wrapped up in her own misery to pay attention. Biting her lip, she shook her head at her own stupidity, and wondered why demons would attack them this close to the capital. She had thought Yomi’s troops were among the best, a disciplined force almost unheard of before in Makai.

But as they neared the clearing, she heard Kurama’s voice, almost mildly saying it had been a long time. Sango stiffened. *A thousand years?*

There was too much she didn’t know, which became uncomfortably clear as Yomi replied, apologizing for the “attack” and justifying it by saying he knew it wouldn’t be a threat to the fox, that he believed in his power and asked for his trust.

*Trust? When he just attacked us?* Sango couldn’t believe her ears, and her captive grinned maliciously at her dubious expression. Eyes narrowing, she pushed him forward to stumble out from under the trees.

“Kurama?” she questioned quietly, eyes flicking suspiciously between the two, refusing to be cowed by the terrible aura pouring off of the king. He turned to look at her, one brow raised in surprise, and she started at the closed eyes, lids seamlessly sealed to his cheeks, lashes drawing a dark, feathering line against his skin. The youkai’s eyes had somehow been removed, taken away so that he could not heal, and he was completely blind. Nearly as tall as Raizen, he was the picture of calm authority. His purple trench coat was cut in a military, yet regal, fashion and he had a plethora of horns and ears wreathing a handsome face cut like a Roman statue. Rather than detracting from his handsomeness, they only framed it, two horns curling forward while the rest curled back along his long, black hair.

“Shigeto?” The king suddenly frowned, recognizing her prisoner, who abruptly prostrated himself.

“Forgive me, sire!” the demon groveled, like a bad play. “I---”

“Silence!” the king snapped, and the demon pressed his face into the dirt, trembling. Troubledby the sudden fear in a warrior who had fought so well, Sango stared at the king as Kurama calmly joined her. She glanced up at him, and there was a warning in his deep green eyes, though his demeanor was deliberately casual.

“Kurama, this is an interesting turn of events. I did not expect for you to bring a companion.” The pointed innuendo of the last word made Sango stiffen. Her eyes narrowed, but Kurama put a light hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly in warning.

“And such a lovely one at that.” Yomi smiled, and coming closer, offered an ironic bow. Kurama’s hand tightened on her shoulder, but he did not look at her. Instead, he said coolly, “Allow me to introduce you, Yomi, to my companion. Sango, this is King Yomi, an old friend who seems to have come up in the world.”

Throwing his head back, the tall demon laughed---a deep, rich sound at odds with his stoic irony. “Well put, Kurama. I have missed your sense of humor. I knew I chose wisely when I asked you to come be my advisor. You will keep me grounded, fox.”

“I’m glad I can provide some small amusement, Yomi,” Kurama said, his expression deadpan. Brow knitting, Sango bit her lip, thrown off by the strange byplay between them.

“Well, you are welcome as my honored guest, Sango,” Yomi said graciously as he relaxed minutely. Funny, but Kurama’s tension was still too clear to read as the king picked up her free hand and bringing it to his lips, kissed it softly. “And it is an honor.”

Unsettled, Sango blushed. She was glad when the king dropped her hand. Straightening, Yomi was about to speak, but they were interrupted by the abrupt arrival of yet another demon, one who called out to the king.

“What is it, Yuda?” There was an edge to the tall youkai’s voice, as if he found the distraction untimely.

“It is almost time for the Unification Conference, my lord.” The short, elderly demon barely spared them a glance, his entire attention on the king. “The Council is gathering.”

“Ah.” Yomi smiled slightly. “Thank you, Yuda, for reminding me. I had all but forgotten we were to meet this afternoon.”

“I thought you might, Sire.” Sango immediately disliked the elderly demon’s unctuous manner. He was clearly that most cultivated of ass-kissers, a snob flaunting their favor any chance they could. There had been plenty of those in King Yama’s court, but she had had little to do with them, thank the kami. She wondered why a demon of Yomi’s strength would keep such a creature around. Perhaps it was for the flattery or amusement, since the presence of Lord Sesshoumaru’s personal servant, Jaken, had been just as baffling.

But then, it could be the demon’s fervent loyalty, for his black eyes were all but simpering at the king’s praise. Ugh. Sango felt soiled just watching it. Though, the startling realization came to her that for the first time in more than a week, she was actually in the moment, and not half-lost in her own world. Frowning, she mentally chastised herself for what now seemed rather foolish, as there were unexplained currents of tension here she could not quite put her finger on. She had too little information, and only had herself to blame for the lack.

Much to her further chagrin, she had just missed the next exchange, once again lost in her thoughts. That bothered her, that she had become so…easily distracted. Now annoyed, she focused hard on the stiff exchange between the king and his servant, who was peering at Kurama like he was something distasteful.

“Are you certain you want him gracing out table, Sire?”

“You heard what I said.” The hard authority in the king’s voice was so different from his urbane camaraderie that it immediately put Sango’s back up. This demon played a deep game. She glanced up at Kurama, but he seemed unaffected. Too unaffected---she had seen that expressionless look before, and it warned her to stay on guard even as the officious demon turned to her.

“And what about this one? She smells half-human, too, and has even less energy than the boy. Do you wish her to attend the conference as well?” The bewhiskered demon looked absolutely appalled by the Very Idea.

“No, Yuda.” The king seemed amused by his underling’s disgust. He smiled down at her in mock apology. “Though you would indeed grace our table, Lady Sango, I’m afraid that our dull talks would only bore you. I hope you will not mind that I am taking Kurama from your side so soon, but I am certain you would like a chance to rest after your long journey.”

He did not wait for a reply, but turned to the others. “Yuda, if you would be so kind as to show them to their rooms. Kurama, I will expect you within the hour.”

“Of course,” Kurama said blandly, and the king turned with a nod of farewell, then paused.

“Ah! I almost forgot. Yuda---”

“Yes, Lord?”

“Shigeto has proven incompetent. He must be dealt with---appropriately.”

Yuda bowed stiffly, either from bad joints or just his normal self-importance, Sango couldn’t tell. Troubled, she glanced over at the prostrated warrior, but Kurama had already taken her arm.

“Come,” he said quietly. “It will be good to wash the stain of travel from off our skin.”

Frowning at his deliberate distraction, her question died unasked at the look of warning in his dark green eyes. She silently nodded, and let him keep her arm as they strolled after Yomi, whose brisk pace soon outstripped theirs. After a few minutes, Yuda joined them, his manner repugnantly smug. He even waved an indulgent hand as he overtook them.

“We mustn’t keep the Council waiting, and I’m sure you will want to change into something a little more…appropriate.” The short demon intently watched her reaction over that last word, and smiled sourly when she only met his malicious gaze with her own, revealing nothing whatsoever. “Hmph, very well. Come along, then.”