InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Spider and the Fly ❯ The Spider and the Fly ( Chapter 1 )

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Disclaimer: All characters are the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, no matter how much I wish they were mine. The opening lyrics are courtesy of The Rolling Stones. (These lyrics aren't present for the FanFiction dot Net version, in keeping with their policies.)

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The Inevitable Attempt to Avoid Confusion: This is the third in a series of one-shots about Naraku and Sesshomaru, beginning with Sympathy for the Devil. I've tried my best to make this stand alone so readers don't have to be familiar with the first two one-shots, but I'd love it if you could find the time to read them anyway.

 

 

The Spider and the Fly

 

Don't say hi, like a spider to a fly
Jump right ahead and you're dead

 

The hanyou known as Naraku had been defeated, and most of the members of the odd little group were delighted. Kagome felt relief, for the Shikon no Tama was now complete. Inu-Yasha felt satisfied, for he had avenged the death of the priestess, Kikyo. Miroku watched with glee as the void in his hand disappeared forever. Even the tiny kitsune Shippo was overjoyed, knowing the monster would terrorize them no longer.

 

Only the taijiya remained wary. Although she had personally witnessed the hanyou's destruction, Sango could never let go of the feeling that somehow, somewhere, Naraku was still present. Perhaps it was just the tiniest piece of the evil bastard's soul that had evaded their onslaught, but Sango knew in her heart that they hadn't gotten rid of him completely.

 

And so it was that, despite all evidence to the contrary, Sango clung ferociously to her belief in the hanyou's tenacity. The rest of the group could never convince her to do otherwise, and so the taijiya spent the rest of her days in a state of discontent. Sango longed for vengeance, and she had yet to claim it. When death came at last to take her, her soul could not be put to rest.

 

When Sango's soul was reborn into a new body, it was accompanied by the vengeful recollections of her previous life. This time, however, she was born into a coastal tribe in a place that bore no resemblance to the Japan of her memories. Wisely, she kept her knowledge to herself, knowing that telling the tribal Elders of an evil hanyou from a strange land would only bring ridicule.

 

She went about her days with quiet resolution, waiting for the hanyou to make his appearance. Sango was convinced that her soul was somehow bound to Naraku's, and if she was in this place, then he must be here as well. It was just a matter of finding him.

 

The opportunity to search for him never arrived. A strange vessel appeared upon their waters, bringing men with light skin and blue eyes. One of the men had strange spots upon his face and body. He died within a few days.

 

Not long after, spots appeared on the members of her tribe. The sickness worked its way through the young and old, the hearty and the weak, leaving behind a wide trail of death. Sango was not immune to its fatal touch.

 

As she lay dying in her own filth, with no member of her tribe able to care for her, Sango realized that this sickness bore all of the marks of Naraku. It destroyed all it touched, yet the one responsible could not be seen. Sango was convinced that the hanyou had brought about these terrible events and again swore her vengeance with her dying breath.

 

Her next few incarnations took on a curious pattern. Always, Sango retained her memories of the previous lives, and always, she spent her life searching for the hanyou. Her lives were often violent and brief, and she was often frustrated. While Sango could see the path of pain that Naraku left behind him, she was never able to lay eyes on the hanyou himself. He worked behind the scenes, controlling others with his lies and deceit.

 

A brief moment of satisfaction came during Sango's next incarnation, when she spotted Naraku in the angry crowd. His outward appearance had changed, but she knew him anyway. Such evil as the hanyou's could never be masked completely.

 

She wanted to give a triumphant cry at having been proven right - the hanyou was still alive and up to his old tricks. Even more, she wanted his blood to stain her hands. Whatever had happened to Naraku had weakened his powers considerably, and Sango was sure she could take him down if she had the chance. Unfortunately, this opportunity was not to be hers. The razor-sharp blade of Madame Guillotine descended upon her neck, and Sango's last vision was that of Naraku's jeering face.

 

Now that she had proof of Naraku's survival, Sango grew even more determined in her subsequent incarnations. So many times, she found the hanyou within her reach, only to have the opportunity (and her life) ripped away from her. She'd been close enough to touch him during a mutiny in Delhi, if a bullet fired by one of the British troops hadn't hit her heart. She tracked him all the way from Ireland to an American sewing factory, only to perish when flames broke out on the upper floor and she couldn't make it through the blocked fire escape. She even spotted him in a military parade, right before an alert German soldier threw himself on top of her in order to prevent her from lobbing the live grenade in her hand.

 

After being killed during the fall of Saigon, Sango might have been forgiven for wanting to quit. Her pursuit of Naraku had led to nothing, for he was as active and strong as ever. But Sango was stubborn, the eldest of a proud family of taijiya, and she refused to give up her quest for vengeance. She felt her soul being drawn into the body of a second daughter of a Chinese peasant and took a solemn vow. This time, things would be different.

 

……

 

“Kagura, do you remember what I told you about the companions of Inu-Yasha?” Sesshomaru asked his companion.

 

Kagura set down the shirt she was mending and peered over her bifocals at Sesshomaru. “Are you referring to the houshi or the taijiya?” she asked, dismissing the kitsune for lack of interest. “Of course I remember you telling me about them, Sesshomaru. One doesn't forget a story about two humans choosing to keep the company of a half-demon. Why do you ask?”

 

Sesshomaru set down his own book and frowned. “I met the taijiya today,” he told Kagura, “or rather, her reincarnation. It's her, though; I feel certain of it.”

 

“Well, that's not too surprising, is it?” Kagura asked. She absently tucked a lock of her gray hair behind her ear and studied the stately youkai before her. “My soul was reincarnated, why should the taijiya be any different?”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Sesshomaru said vaguely. “I just didn't expect to find her where I found her. In fact, I would have thought she'd be anywhere but…there…”

 

“Nothing is predictable with reincarnation,” Kagura pointed out. “Look at me, for instance. You could hardly have expected to find me as a human, after all. Damn this old age,” she cursed softly as she picked up her sewing. “I can't see if this seam is straight or not. Does this look right to you?”

 

“The repair is unnoticeable, as it should be,” Sesshomaru said, standing up to inspect the shirt. He took the garment from her. “You needn't mend my clothing, Kagura. I do not require this of you.”

 

“Nonsense,” she shushed him. “I like to keep myself occupied, and my card game was cancelled this week.”

 

“You could always come and observe my weekly shoji match with the hanyou,” Sesshomaru said lightly, dangling the shirt from a clawed finger.

 

The youkai loved to tease her; Sesshomaru knew she'd never go near the hanyou if she could help it. Kagura gave a delicate snort. “You want me to spend the evening watching two has-beens play at world domination via the shoji board?” she sneered. “I think not.”

 

……

 

The hanyou who was once known as Naraku contemplated his next move. He often beat Sesshomaru during their weekly shoji match, but the youkai won often enough to keep him interested. Sesshomaru's approach was much like his fighting style - direct and deadly. The hanyou, however, preferred elaborate snares and subtle attacks. What was the point in winning or losing, if you couldn't do it with style?

 

The hanyou's companion, a Chinese woman with a lethal combination of fighting skills and incredible beauty, flashed him an approving look beneath half-closed eyes as he moved his piece. No stranger to strategy, the girl had spotted his snare. So had Sesshomaru, for that matter, but was of no importance. The real strategy was in the moves hidden by the obvious gambit.

 

The youkai took the bait, and within a few moves he was vanquished. The Chinese woman watched with a look of awe as the hanyou cleared the board, easily winning the game. Too easily, the hanyou noticed.

 

“Your attention wanders tonight, Sesshomaru,” the hanyou scolded as Sesshomaru gathered his belongings in preparation of taking his leave. “I begin to think you find me boring.” He drew the Chinese girl at his side into a casual embrace, slipping his arm about her shoulders as he escorted the youkai to the door. “Perhaps my lovely friend here is more of a distraction than I had supposed?”

 

“Believe what you will,” was the youkai's cool reply as the door closed behind him.

 

Inside the hallway, the girl leaned into the hanyou easily, something he truly enjoyed. So many human women shrank from his touch, sensing that all was not right beneath the surface of his handsome skin. This girl, however, was different. She reveled in his nearness, marveled at his hanyou traits. Strong enough in her own right, this woman seemed fascinated by the power within him.

 

The one formerly known as Naraku often found himself demonstrating that power for her, flexing his muscles, so to speak. His actions with her were curiously human, and sometimes he wondered just why she provoked that side of him. It might have been because she openly encouraged the very opposite. It was his demonic nature that excited her, and she praised his strength and spurred him to rough lusts in the bedroom.

 

One of these days, he was going to give her a name. When he'd first met her, she'd simply told him that the second daughter of a Chinese peasant wasn't supposed to be permitted life in the first place, so she'd never been named. Thinking her presence to be a brief flirtation, the hanyou had taken to calling her Nanashi.

 

Still, everyone was known by some name, even a hanyou who'd rejected the name he'd once been given. The hanyou used many names outside the walls of his home, adopting whatever moniker suited his purposes. Nanashi should be no different, the hanyou decided.

 

“What did the people of your village call you?” he asked her.

 

“They called me Nothing,” she answered. Her eyes took on a lustful gleam he knew all too well. “Nothing will harm you,” she said, shoving the hanyou roughly against the wall.

 

“You think I will submit to Nothing?” the hanyou hissed, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her against him. How he enjoyed their games. He could be as cruel as he liked, leaving her badly injured and bleeding, and she seemed to enjoy it all the more. Sometimes he surprised her with a kink she hadn't encountered, but more often than not, it was she who surprised him.

 

Such as now. “Nothing will take you to places you've never been before,” she rasped, forcing him to the floor and biting his lip so hard she drew blood. “You are nothing…without Nothing.”

 

Nothing mattered, Naraku realized as he tore at her dress with his claws, avoiding the ancient talisman she always wore around her neck. Her very essence spiked through his veins, sending a thrill through his core. He knew that she was dangerous, and that he would have to kill her eventually. Until then, however, he would enjoy Nothing.

 

……

 

“Your soul is well-traveled,” Sesshomaru once said to the girl who had once been a taijiya. It was a brief encounter, the only contact he had dared make. The hanyou didn't recognize her for who she was, and Sesshomaru didn't intend to reveal the woman's secrets. “Your soul keeps returning to this world, time and time again. Why?”

 

“It cannot rest,” the once-taijiya answered him. “I need vengeance in order to be complete. My soul cannot move on without it.”

 

“And this time, how will things be different?” Sesshomaru asked. “How will you alter what fate seems to have decided?”

 

“It will be different this time,” she insisted stubbornly. “This time, I will succeed. I refuse to accept any other outcome.”

 

……

 

Of all the things Naraku had done to make her angry, Sango decided, the worst insult was his failure to recognize or remember her. She'd gone through countless incarnations in search of him, only to discover that she rated no more notice than last night's dinner. Meanwhile, she'd suffered and burned and choked and exploded and died, over and over, all in pursuit of the vile creature.

 

She kept these angry thoughts buried deep within her. Naraku was a weakened version of himself, and he lacked the Shikon jewel to help him with his manipulations, but he was still powerful. Fortunately, he was no longer all-powerful. He could be deceived.

 

Sango wasn't fooled - Naraku didn't trust her. This was unimportant, however, because he allowed her to be near him. He permitted her presence because he believed himself invincible. If she attacked, he believed he could crush her in an instant.

 

He was correct, Sango conceded. Naraku could destroy her in a single heartbeat. It was a good thing that a single heartbeat was all she needed. The hanyou didn't realize how very much he was going to be like the soldier who tackled her while she held the live grenade. She would die, but Naraku would go with her.

 

……

 

“Will you tell me what's bothering you?” Kagura asked sleepily.

 

The nearly full moon spilled its light across the sheets, illuminating Sesshomaru's silver locks and giving him an ethereal appearance. He was magnificent, and Kagura wondered for the millionth time why such a marvelous creature would wish to be by her woefully human side. Had she still been in possession of her youkai body or even her youthful beauty, she might chalk it up to odd lust, but in her present form…

 

Sesshomaru rolled onto his back and laced his fingers behind his head. “I am pondering the progression of souls,” he said eventually. “Why do some souls return again and again, while others seem to move on from this world?”

 

“I don't know,” Kagura mumbled, curling up to his side and resting her head against his shoulder. “Maybe there's something that keeps them here. Or someone,” she added meaningfully, twining one of his silvery strand around her fingers. “Maybe that's enough to bring them back. I certainly hope so, anyway. Would you like it if I came back, Sesshomaru?”

 

“That would please me greatly, Kagura; but if it is not meant to be, there is something I would like you to remember.” He caught her hand in his own and pressed it to his lips. “It is enough,” Sesshomaru continued softly, echoing her words of so long ago, “that you are here with me now.”

 

……

 

She had believed that this time, things would different.

 

“You thought you'd deceive me, didn't you?” Naraku asked, a cruel smile etched across his handsome face. In his hand, he held the glowing talisman Sango had tried to wrap around his neck. “I have to say that Nothing has disappointed me. I had thought you would realize the extent of my power.”

 

“Don't call me Nothing,” Sango spat. She struggled against the tentacles that held her captive.

 

Naraku tightened his grip, squeezing the breath from her. “But you are Nothing,” he smirked, “unless, of course, you decide to tell me who you really are. Nothing seems familiar.”

 

She glared at him and remained silent.

 

“Germany,” Naraku said suddenly. “You were that woman who gave the Kaiser's top-ranking general a venereal disease!”

 

He couldn't be serious. “No,” Sango said flatly. “That wasn't me. I wasn't in Germany during the Kaiser's reign.”

 

“No? Maybe that was Sesshomaru,” Naraku muttered. “That would be just the sort of interfering stunt he'd pull. I don't suppose you were that girl I ran over with my car in Tokyo about forty years ago?”

 

“No!” Sango shouted. She wanted to keep distracting him, for he had walked into her snare. The talisman was just a lure; the real power was entrenched within her body. By grabbing her, Naraku had activated an invisible bond between them. He had pulled the trigger on an ancient magic, and when she died in a few minutes, so would he.

 

“That really was an accident that time, anyway,” the hanyou was still talking. “I don't like to mess with children; they're much more fun to play with when they're grown.”

 

His reference to children sent her over the edge. “You didn't have any qualms about playing with Kohaku!” she screamed. “I have lived countless lives trying to destroy you; you could at least have the decency to remember my name!”

 

Naraku was surprised, she could tell. “Sango…” he breathed. He snaked more tentacles around her and pulled against him. She was helpless, completely unable to move. “Are you really her? How I loved tormenting you…watching you twist in the wind while I used your brother Kohaku to do my work. I had hoped to taint you completely, Sango. I wanted to turn your heart as dark as mine, but you always managed to resist me.”

 

Her head was forced back, and Naraku ran his tongue against her exposed throat. “Delicious as ever,” he shuddered. “But how is it that I did not recognize your soul? You are changed, my Nothing, my taijiya. Even now, I do not see that which is familiar.”

 

“You see what I want you to see, which is Nothing,” Sango wheezed, trying to force air into her crushed lungs.

 

“I will kill you now, but will that be the end?” Naraku whispered hoarsely, tracing her ear with his lips. “You tell me that you have spent several lives in my pursuit. It seems we are bound by your vengeance, taijiya.”

 

His words stopped her struggles. Something was pushing at the edge of her consciousness, a wisp of an idea that she struggled to make concrete. Everything that had happened to her, all of the lives she had used and discarded…

 

Could it be…

 

No, it couldn't…

 

Just maybe…

 

This wasn't about Naraku?

 

But instead…

 

It was about her?

 

Her mind raced along this path. It was not Naraku who searched for completion, his heart set on a single act of revenge. Naraku wasn't the one who wanted a peaceful soul…

 

All of her past lives whirled before her, leaving Sango to grasp the final piece of understanding that had evaded her in previous incarnations: the progression of her soul didn't hinge on her ability to exact a long-overdue vengeance. She would not find peace in Naraku's destruction. Until she willingly stepped outside of the mindless circle, the circumstances would alter but the outcome would remain the same.

 

This time, things would be different.

 

Something within her snapped, and with a strength she had never before possessed, Sango freed herself from the tentacles and snapped the magical binding between them. “No, don't grab me, or you'll be pulled back into the snare!” she yelled in warning to Naraku as he lunged for her. “This has to end, Naraku! This has to stop!”

 

He reached for her anyway, but the magic buried within Sango had risen to the surface. A black vortex was spinning around her body, consuming her with an ancient fire. Darkness descended, and the flames sent her hurtling toward death.

 

This time, she opened her arms and welcomed her soul's release. This time, peace filled every possible space inside of her. This time, things were different. She had spared the life of her greatest enemy, but this time, it wasn't about him.

 

……

 

Sesshomaru sauntered into Naraku's home, arching an icy brow in the direction of the shattered remains of the door. “That was quite a flare of ancient magic, Hanyou. Surely you haven't been foolish enough to disturb such entities? You must be aware that such powers cannot be easily controlled.”

 

The hanyou once known as Naraku was kneeling in the center of the room, holding a talisman within his hand. As Sesshomaru looked on, the talisman sent out a tiny shower of sparks. It then disappeared, leaving behind only the leather string that had once graced Sango's neck.

 

“What is that?” Sesshomaru asked, pointing to the leather string Naraku was still clutching.

 

“Oh…it was Nothing,” the hanyou told him. Nevertheless, he gripped the string tightly, as if he were holding on to something that was no longer there.

 

Something had happened in here, but the hanyou wasn't going to talk. Sesshomaru gave up trying to pry and helped the hanyou to his feet. “You're not allowed to get yourself killed on the day of our shoji match, Hanyou. You would have to forfeit the game.”

 

“That would bother you, wouldn't it?” the hanyou countered. “You care too much about our precious games, Sesshomaru.”

 

“Better to care about shoji than to care for nothing at all,” Sesshomaru shrugged.

 

The hanyou grimaced. “That must be my problem, Sesshomaru,” he rasped, then gave a hollow, empty laugh. The hanyou gave the youkai a weary look, one that held a lifetime of pain. “I was foolish enough to care for Nothing.”

 

……

 

A/N: This was originally posted on LiveJournal as a gift-fic for BelleDayNight at the IY Flashfic Community, October 31st, 2005. I give tribute to the late Douglas Adams for the vengeful reincarnation/ignorant recipient idea, although my take on it was serious instead of funny.