InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Torn Apart ❯ Chapter 22

 

Chapter 22:

 

Clawing, biting, nasty little things. They were everywhere, growling, hissing, challenging. Their numbers were waning as they trampled their comrades, everyone out for themselves. He hissed and growled in return, riling them up, making them kill more of their numbers, drinking off the blood and ragged flesh of the dead and dying.

 

He licked at his own wounds, spectre though he may be. They bleed silver mist, shrouding the inside of the shield from the gaze of the feral. His fur rose on end as he sniffed, picking up the putrid smell of disease and decay.

 

His mistress was dieing.

 

His growl intensified, as he narrowed his eyes at the culprits, those nasty, stinking, unwashed things laughing in glee as the shield flickered briefly, scorching flesh of those closest to it as they fell through. None lived to survive the tiny breach of protection.

 

Crouching over his mistress and the other two companions, he twisted slightly to press a clammy nose to her skin, comforting her, asking her to let him protect them. Her illness was progressing faster then it should.

 

Licking her cheek, he howled forlornly, causing his prey to yip as a hundred ears were assaulted. As the shield flickered one last time, he settled into his stance, an unwholesome gleam shining in his white milky eyes. Claws digging into the concrete, he waited for the first unfortunate thing to cross his path. He had a score to settle.

 

—\-\-|-/-/—

 

He nearly faltered in his head long flight over the rooftops. That howl echoed something hidden deep in his soul. It was both challenge and warning combined. It was a promise of blood to be spilt this eve. An answering light of challenge crept into his eyes as a cruel smile broke his mask to grace his lips. If Kusari yūrei was thirsting for blood then there was but one conclusion to be made; hell would open its gates tonight.

 

He cracked his knuckles before letting them fall to grasp the hilt of his sword. Consequences be damned, he would not let his servant consume all the souls surrounding them. He would be there to ensure sure nothing was left living, himself.

 

His hair whipping in the wind, he jumped another building, landing softly, never breaking stride. His nose testing the air currents, he snarled roughly. The smell of blood was thick, cloying his nostrils, making his olfactory senses nearly useless. At least he could not smell Kagome's sweetness. Only the kistsune's was mingled with the heavy scent of filth, decay, and disease.

 

His nose twitched again.

 

There was something more hidden beneath the overwhelming metallic taste of red blood. There was a shade of coldness, of musty air. Kusari yūrei smelled of winter, but musty decay? His blood chilled. There were too many unanswered questions he dared not attempt to answer. Sesshoumaru sped on.

 

—\-\-|-/-/—

 

Sango tightened her grip on Inuyasha's shoulder, a shudder rushing through her black clad skin. That sound, it made her fear the whisper of spectral hands pushing their coldness through her body. She had not felt that fear since her battles with Kohaku, ever meeting a jarring lesson against hope, a promise of despair.

 

She never wanted to feel that way again.

 

The hanyou flicked his ears back, catching the tiny hiss of pain from the taijiya. His own body leaned forward, crouching closer to the ground in an attempt to diminish air resistance, to give himself an extra ounce of sped. Kagome was in danger, that he knew, but his own heart felt heavy. He would never forgive himself if she died. It was his fault Sango was distracted for so long. It was his fault for not watching out for the miko. It was always his fault.

 

Squeezing his hands in comfort around Sango's thighs, he drew comfort of his own. He was not alone in horror. Sango was with him. He only hoped that whatever they found just beyond the next building, the next street, wouldn't break them. He had already gone through grief once before, he didn't think he could handle it again.

 

—\-\-|-/-/—

 

Steel cut through flesh, a green light lit up the alleyway warning spectators away, silencing the noises in the night. The bar behind him was awash in a cloud of sweat and smoke, already cleared of patrons with the roar of the spectre clawing his way through tufts of fur. Those that had not heeded the challenge were lying on the ground, victims to the rats that thirsted so for the sweet, cloying taste of blood. Most were living, having escaped death by default.

 

Sesshoumaru had arrived.

 

His body twisted and glided through the air, taking out the threat to his family. His whip burned through bone and sinew, annihilating those who crept to near his chosen one. His hand rose and fell, taking delight in the crunch of bone as Toukijin plowed through body after body, leaving nothing but indistinguishable parts behind, barely constrained from using its full power. Oh how it wept to be used so again; its evil aura working in sync with the taiyoukai's desire, awakening with the bite of flesh against its teeth.

 

It was a blood bath of death; the concrete slabs stained forever beyond repair. He relished the release of emotion, cleansing his system from the unwelcome bite of fear, of anger, of regret. With a final drip of poison from his claws, he watched the sea of rats turn tail, acknowledging his dominion as they returned to the darkness of the sewers to nurse their wounds, food for the underworld.

 

Eyes glowing brightly, he turned and nodded in thanks to his ancestor, vowing silently to destroy the dagger and let the beast go, debts repaid. A spark of gold reflected in Kusari yūrei's startling white eyes before fading. He knew his freedom was coming. Turning his back on Sesshoumaru, he limped his way to the three prone bodies, nudging his mistress with his black nose, whimpering softly in his throat.

 

Sesshoumaru wasted no time in sheathing his sword, before gliding to Kagome's side, mind clinically cataloging the injuries, the smell of decay overwhelmingly stifling her sweet scent. Snapping out his cell phone, he called a private hospital, swiftly telling the operator to send an ambulance, barely remembering to ask that a local hospital be alerted as well to take care of the foolishly wounded patrons.

 

His heart wept in dread as he dropped the cursed piece of metal as he cradled his Kagome's cheek in the palm of his hand. She winced softly in pain, before settling against his flesh. She was seemingly uninjured, though her skin was hot to the touch and her lymph nodes looked swollen. Her arms were loosely gathered around her son's limp body, shielding him against further attack. Looking closely at her skin, he cataloged more abnormalities; blotches speckling her skin with bursts of redness. He could almost smell the pooling blood as the vessels hemorrhaged just beneath the thing layer of cells covering her body.

 

Worriedly, he listened intently with his ears, trying to gauge her blood pressure by speed alone. It was weak. She would go into shock soon of whatever disease continued to work as fast as it was. It was unfathomable.

 

Giving her cheek a tender caress, he forced his eyes to tear away from her, turning instead to check Shippou's wounds, already having discerned that the other girl beside them was uninjured although filthy. His skin hung in tatters, barely knitting fast enough to keep the blood from draining completely out of his body. The kitsune was an absolute mess. Unsheathing Tensaiga, he swept it simultaneously through the miko and kitsune, praying that death would be thwarted until medical help arrived.

 

Dropping to his knees, he tore off the hem of his haori, wrapping it around the tattered holes in the kit's hands. The sword could only heal so much after all. The pieces had to be there for it to knit sinew and bone together, but the skin was already gone, gouges taken out of the muscle by hungry teeth. Pressing down on the cloth, he heard the sharp intake of breath as Shippou fought to snatch his tender paws from his grasp.

 

Unrelenting, he pressed harder, hoping to stop the flow of blood. A moan echoed in the alley before eyes weakly fluttered to focus blurrily on the red streaked being in front of him.

 

“Sesshoumaru?” he asked shakily, unwilling to believe his eyes. Never had he seen him so unkempt and prayed never to do so again. The once calm, imperturbable taiyoukai looked mad in the dim glow of neon lights, blood streaking his forehead and spattered across his white chest.

 

“Shippou,” was his curt reply, textured with concern, dread, fear. He would do anything to keep from hearing that tone again, though his heart skipped sluggishly as warmth filled him. Never before had he really felt that the elder youkai cared for him. Always, he was just an extension of family lost, of Rin's death and Kagome's absence. But perhaps, he was finally more then that.

 

He coughed, blood flecking his lips as his body worked overtime to repair his battered limbs. “Kokushibyou,” he whispered haltingly. “It was always Kokushibyou, starting us in the face, mocking us.”

 

Sesshoumaru frowned, puzzle pieces falling into place. Black death, the rats, Kagome's strange illness clouding her aura. The plague, it was a coward's way to fight.

 

“He has it,” Shippou whispered, fighting against the need to sleep, to regenerate his strength. “He has the jewel.”

 

His blood ran cold, remembering the strength that was needed to take out the last demon to harness the jewel's power. Though it had lain dormant, he felt the flickering of renewed power through the past weeks as Kagome's world was reshuffled. He silently cursed, as Shippou retreated into unconsciousness.

 

—\-\-|-/-/—

 

They found their companions kneeling in the middle of a pool of sticky sweetness and vile refuse. Sesshoumaru's youkai was pulsating with anger while Shippou's weakly held on. Kagome's was nearly drowned beneath the stink of decaying flesh. The white ghost of a dog laid protectively next to the miko, gently whimpering in comfort.

 

“Inuyasha,” snapped Sesshoumaru's anger coated voice. “Sango,” he said as they landed heavily on the slippery ground. “The yakuza leader has retreated into the tunnels. Find him, and kill him.”

 

They exchanged glances as they shifted to grasp weapons, bodies sliding into high alert. “Is Kagome all right?” asked Inuyasha, unwilling to budge though the weight of command pushed him heavily.

 

Silence wrapped its amorphous coils around their bodies, weighing down their bodies with the ill will of despair. “I don't know,” was his whispered reply, only caught by Inuyasha's keener senses.

 

A snarl broke from his throat as he stalked towards the sewer drain, yanking up the lid violently. As the lid crashed to the floor, wobbling on its edge before coming to rest, Sesshoumaru spoke again.

 

“And he has the Shikon no Tama.”

 

“Shit,” was Inuyasha's forceful whisper as Sango crept up behind him.

 

“How the fuck did he know she had it?!?”

 

Sesshoumaru turned soulless eyes to his half-brother. “I don't know, but the fool smells of a dead enemy, someone who should have met his end long ago.”

 

“Who is it?” asked Sango, struggling to contain the conflicting emotions of grief and anger, trying to stay clear-headed.

 

“A rat, a rat that has been the cause of plague for over one thousand years.”

 

Inuyasha swore again. Now he knew who Shuukaku was. The man had seemed to intent on creeping close to Kagome in the nightclub while cozying up to her friend. He was the damn youkai that ultimately killed Myouga, providing them that elusive clue between plague and beast.

 

It was never Sesshoumaru the gang had been after, but his heir, Shippou for sealing his blood from spreading new strains of plague around the world. A sealing spell was all that could be accomplished when confronted since the youkai rat managed to call more of the lesser kind to swarm Shippou and himself, while the coward slipped off into the unknown, disappearing completely.

 

They should have known.

 

“Fuck,” he said for good measure before grimly turning to Sango. Grabbing her hand, he yanked her off her feet as he dangled her over the manhole, lowering her into the darkness beneath.

 

“We'll get him,” he said before jumping after the taijiya. Landing with a thud in the slimy water, he gazed with gold flashing eyes down the tunnel, sniffing the air. Turning to the left, he motioned for her to follow. “Let's go kick some youkai ass.”

 

—\-\-|-/-/—

 

Sesshoumaru watched the duo disappear into darkness before turning back to Kagome. Brushing his claws through her hair, he worked to free the tangles. Fear crept up his spine as focus was lost having released his will onto another. There was nothing he could do to help, and he despised it.

 

His enemy had done his research well, infecting his wife-to-be with the pathogen. He knew its statistics, having been forced to watch as Shippou diligently worked to discover a cure for it alongside Alexandre Yersin a hundred years ago. Even a normal strain was deadly, causing nearly half the infected to die if not treated in 24 hours. With how advanced her disease state was already, he feared there would be no way to defeat the parasite in her blood. It was the one thing he could not help her fight against.

 

A howl built up in his throat, threatening to break free. Instead, he swallowed it whole and continued to stroke Kagome's hot, feverish flesh as his mind was thrown back into the past, remembering, aching, and fearing the worst.

 

He could not save her.

 

There was nothing he could do but wait.

 

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