InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Trapped from Within ❯ The Beginning ( Chapter 3 )

AN: Blah…

Summary: IK MS "Their humanly weaknesses were what kept them defenseless to their enemy. Each and every one of them were trapped by their fears, their pains, haunted by their own faults and need for revenge. But alone, they would only succeed in failing."

Genre: Angst/Romance, Drama, Tragedy

Rating: PG13

Chapter Warnings: Some self-loathing in all directions, pain, angst, drunken abuse, alcohol problems, dark crap. A little of everything, maybe even some horror if I decide right.

Inspiration For This Story: Umm…actually this story was solely based on the summary. I made the summary up, because doing so was one of my favorite past times (which at the moment is getting on my nerves), and I wrote the first two chapters on whim. ^^; Obviously, from the lack of updates in the past 6 months, I never really took the time to write a plot. But I have now, so lets hope we all get more updates. ^_^

Comments, flames, criticisms, shameless plugs, advice, pointers, praises, one-word praises and any other such type of review is welcome in any and all of my fics. Any commentary is greatly appreciated.

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Trapped From Within

Chapter 3

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A small lithe figure stood in front of a desk, her hand clasped to her chest. The room was dark, save for the one swinging light that cast a small glow on the dark oak desk. 'A typical Classic bad guy thing to do' she thought. Everything else was cast in dark shadows, ones that were as real as bruises and blood.

The plush blood red carpet felt soft and squishy underneath the soles of her shoes, but "Feather" knew better. She knew that the carpet had once been the purest of white. She gave a glance down at her feet, and noticed the sticky wetness clinging to the carpet threads. It looked almost black.

She would have shivered, if not the fact that she was in the presence of a man who would take her shiver as weakness and kill her on the spot. Instead she gave an indignant glare at the leather chair faced towards the opposite wall, ignoring the red puddle that seemed to gather at the base of her feet.

"Yes, sir? You wanted something?" Walking all the way from the other side of the dark building from her desk would have been a lot easier if there weren't so many idiotic brutes looking for a quick fling, or the fact that her boss kept moving his office into a different part of the structure. If Feather would have had her way, she would have complained on the spot, but another known factor about her boss, was that complaining ended with a bullet through your head. So she limited herself to words that were submissive and a tone that was anything but. "I was called by your secretary."

The chair squeaked on its swivel as it partially turned to the side. Feather still could not see her bosses face.

"Yes I called you…Kagura…" he paused, letting his words echo in the room.

Feather, or "Kagura" growled softly in her throat. Kagura was the name she had been born with. The name he had given to her.

She preferred her alias to it any day.

Her boss continued on after the brief silence. "You know as well as I do that our big move is coming up again." Kagura watched as his arms came into the light and balanced on the desk, fingers lacing in an aristocratic fashion. "This warehouse will have to be cleared out in 12 hours flat before the monthly check up, and if anything is left out, my…policy…will be enforced."

Kagura nodded; execution.

"Further more, that last shipment of T.S will need to be brought to HQ without any detection by any law enforcement parties. Use a different route, a different system; use a different way of transportation. There are too many ways to transport a load of cargo from point A to point B, so I shall assume that your house will have no problems."

'A warning underneath all those intelligent words. Not unusual.' Kagura thought. 'But he never needs me to come to his office to debrief me on our next move.' She nodded, waiting.

There was a slight pause, before her boss's fingers unlaced and he pressed the tips together. She breathed in a draft of air.

"Your not going this time though."

The air whooshed out of her so fast she almost choked. She struggled to keep a straight face. Not going? But then…that meant…

"You have…another assignment." He spoke smoothly, his knuckles running across the desk. Even through the darkness, she saw his lips grow into a slow malicious grin. She shivered slightly, shaken of fear.

"Its time."

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Kagome sat down on the couch quietly, ignoring the chunks of fabric torn off of it. With a half eaten sandwich in her hand, she leaned back against the broken backboard. Her eyes were lowered and shielded by her bangs, her face blank and pale as she listened to the soft thrum of their now broken television and the loud thuds and angry drunken cries that echoed from their upstairs bedroom.

He was drunk again.

Lifting the sandwich to her mouth, she took a bite, sinking her teeth into the suddenly chalky bread. She swallowed after a struggle, the sticky peanut butter still clinging to the roof of her mouth, before gripping the soda she had placed between her knees and taking a long swig. The liquid rushed down her throat, the fizz burning against the delicate skin of her mouth.

It would have been terrifying to hear his screams and curses, to see his icy blue eyes light up in red flames, if she hadn't been used to it by now.

About a year ago, on the night after the terrible accident, things had changed. With the sudden responsibility of a working successful business on his shoulders, and the strains of hospital records and death hanging over hers, it was a wonder Kagome hadn't followed her boyfriend into the quite numbing solitude that only came with alcohol burning down your throat.

She gave a small gasp for air as she lifted her lips from the can. Blinking away the sudden lights that danced in her eyes, she gripped her sandwich tighter and took a bite. A roar of anger and the crashing of a door torn from its hinges was the only music to her ears.

There was nothing she could do at the moment; he needed to vent and she needed to be there for him when the alcohol boiling in his blood burned out and he was back to his old self again.

Taking another swig of the soda, she finished it off and set it on the ground at her feet. Being careful to not press against any stray hazardous couch springs, Kagome closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She listened and waited, like she always did.

After a few minuets, the pounding upstairs quieted. With an almost audible sigh, Kagome opened her eyes tiredly and stared up at the ceiling, watching the black spots of her vision grow and shrink to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. A silence settled over the couch, the room, the house, blanketing her in a bleak and utter nothing.

She had 15 minutes to assess the damage done to the apartment and judge just what she would have to replace, before she'd go upstairs and find Kouga. The man would most likely be in their bedroom, the only room he never seemed to be able to wreck.

But she didn't want to go up there to quick. He needed time alone, time to battle with his inner demons and struggle with his repeated failures as an heir to a company, as a boyfriend, as a son. Everyday, he carried burdens that no one saw but her, that no one cared to see but her.

Her eyes blurred, the lines on the ceiling wall meshing together and forming squiggly patterns, before she blinked the wetness away. Her fist clenched at her side.

With his family's disapproval glaring at his back, and the added weight of business, work, and his final year in high school, Kouga was dying ever so slowly on the inside, something that killed Kagome to see. He needed that small time to himself, that time to remember who he was and what he was doing, and she didn't have the heart to take it from him.

After a quiet moment, Kagome set her sandwich down and heaved her suddenly heavy head up. The room swam for a split second, and Kagome gripped the arm of the couch to steady her body. Squinting her eyes, she focused on the solid feel of the couch, the rough cotton beneath her fingers, the constant throb that pounded at her arms.

Her vision cleared. With a tiny shake of her head, Kagome looked up from her lap and brought a hand to her temples. She had no time to dawdle. She had work to do before she was needed.

Surveying the living room with a quick, but through glance she grimaced. Kouga had out done himself this time.

The side table that should have been next to the couch was torn limb from limb and scattered across the room; one leg was sticking out of one of the splintered kitchen cabinets. Vases, moving boxes, cards, stacks of old unused books, CDs, Styrofoam cups and bowls, and plastic utensils were scattered everywhere on the floor. The couch had been decapitated and its stuffing strewn about, the TV was still fizzing from being punched straight through.

Nothing had been left untouched.

Spotting her laptop in the corner, wires sticking out of its ends and its two halves torn completely apart, Kagome winced. She had bought that two weeks ago with her own money rather then using Kouga's, painstakingly taking a small amount of savings for college to piece together enough to buy it. She had been so proud that she had earned most of it all by herself; Kouga had been happy for her and had taken her out to eat that night.

Now though… she flinched as a part of the broken casing splintered into pieces. Maybe bringing that home hadn't been such a good idea. She should have known by the look on his face when he had picked her up, that it wouldn't last the day.

Standing up from the couch, she picked her way across the room, sidestepping broken cardboard boxes and shattered glass as she made her way to the corner. Crouching in front of the dismantled laptop, she poked its silver casing with a skinny finger.

She almost yelped when it sparked with bright dots of electricity. Her hand instantly went numb.

With a groan, Kagome cradled her palm to her chest. Though she loved electronics, the hardware itself had never been her expertise. She liked software and the many programs that could be used, but hardware - the actual mechanics of the machine - was another matter entirely. She left that up to Kouga.

Checking over her hand to make sure there was no burn, she massaged it with her nimble fingers. After a moment, she shook it vigorously to try and get the feeling back. It started throbbing. With a sigh, Kagome gave her hand one good last shake, before grabbing the handle of a broken plunger that had been thrown precariously against the wall. Gripping it in her good hand like a battle arm, she began poking through the heap of metal, determination set on her face.

She didn't put anything valuable in the house anymore; after the time Kouga had torn every single one of her family photos in half and burnt the remains on the kitchen stove, she had put all her trinkets in storage and had bought only generic, cheap furniture, pictures and fabrics to decorate the large apartment with. After all, no one knew about Kouga's little escapades into the local bar, nor his wild raging rampages after drink. But even then, things she cherished more then the bland chairs and couches always seemed to find their way into a dismantled pile on the floor sooner or later.

Giving up entirely on salvaging anything from that scrap of torn metal, Kagome dropped the plunger handle and sighed wearily. Rubbing her temples, something she had been doing a lot of lately, she stood up from her squatted position and tiptoed across the floor back to the couch. Picking up her sandwich, she took another bite and sat down with a thump.

As she chewed softly, she looked around the apartment, the place that had been her home for the last year and a half.

And unshed tears glistened in her shadow grey eyes.

The part that hurt the most wasn't the destruction of her house, or the bruises.

It wasn't the pain that coursed through her body every time he came home drunk and couldn't control himself. It wasn't the scars that remained after she let him do to her what he needed. It wasn't even the words that he said when he was angry. It had never been any of those.

Because she knew what a human in turmoil had to go through.

Her father had died in her arms; her mother had been in the hospital for the past two years, struggling against leukemia with a slowly weakening will. Her brother had been sent to a foster home, were he had a life that Kagome would never have been able to provide for him. She had been broke, bankrupt, and emotionally torn to pieces.

Until she had met him.

At the time he had been rich, kind, and had loved her more then anything he had ever dreamed of. In time, with his persistent gentleness, she had fallen in love with him and brought him deeper into her heart then any one or anything else in the world. He had maneuvered his way through the shambles that had been her life, and had reconstructed her future; he helped pay for her mother's hospital bills, he had comforted her when she was ready to break down and cry. He had been there for her when her grandfather had died, and had been the one to hold her as they buried his coffin on the hillside.

He had always been there for her.

And then, his heritage had slammed into his side like a thorn, draining a little bit of him away each and everyday.

He began to drink. Giving into the numbness that came with alcohol, letting it burn away the torment that suddenly was quaking beneath his skin. And truly, she didn't blame him.

He became wild, reckless, and uncontrollable. He became intoxicated all the time.

And every once in awhile, in his blind rage, he would hurt her.

But it wasn't that she hated him now; gods no, she loved him with all her heart. If she hadn't loved him, she would never have come to him in the first place, never would have let him use her when his mind was confused and his heart was aching. She knew above all else that he was going through some of the toughest times of his life; that even though he never shared his emotions with her, he was hurting on the inside.

He had always been there for her.

So she would be there for him.

Any pain was worth his happiness.

Kagome sat up sluggishly. She felt lethargic and slow, like her body was moving through water. Shifting her weight off of the couch, crouching on the floor, she balanced on the balls of her feet before standing up. Slowly, she turned to face the stairway, her eyes gazing at the mahogany banister as it climbed its way up to the second floor.

It was never the pain he could do to her that hurt her most.

That pain was temporary and paled in comparison to the hurt she knew that lay deep within his icy blue eyes.

With slow, deliberate steps, Kagome made her way towards the stairs. Alighting her hand on the banister knob at the bottom of the staircase, she looked up solemnly into the darkness of the second story. She watched the shadows dance swiftly before her eyes. She started to climb.

It was the lies that he said to try and elude himself, the lies she heard every night and hoped beyond hope would change into truth. When he would wake up with his head in pain, and see her with dark bruises scattered all over her body. When he would cry out his sorrows into her lap as she gently stroked his hair. When through his sobs he would tell her he would stop drinking and give her a happy life. That he loved her so much and didn't want to hurt her ever again.

She would listen to those words, take them to her heart, and cry in her pillow when his eyes closed and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Because he lied to himself, was hurting himself, was obsessed with something that might kill him in the future. She was afraid every day that something could go wrong. She was afraid that his drinking problem would affect him to a point that he would never be the kind sweet and caring guy she had fallen in love with, that she would only see glimpses of him when the night was dark and the last of his drunken state faded away into tears of frustration. She was afraid that if his habits wouldn't stop, that someone would find out and take him away from her. She was afraid for him, rather then of him.

And that was what hurt.

Her foot thumped softly as it rested on the top step. She peered into the darkness thoughtfully.

Not the bruises, not the words, but the lies he told himself every night.

And so instead of running, she let him do to her what he wanted, let him beat her and hold her, let him love her and hate her.

And after it was all over and he would fall into that same dreamless sleep, she would kneel on the mattress, clasp her hands together, and pray with all her heart between the sobs and tears.

She wanted him to get better. She wanted it so bad it hurt.

Kagome made her way to their room. The hall way was dark, a blackness seeming to smother any sound or movement in its confines. It was almost…tangible and pliable, easy to tease into substance. Like it was alive and waiting, settling over her in a tense almost familiarity. Like…like a cloak.

Predator and prey.

She shivered instinctively, before shaking loose her thoughts, pushing her dream - that living embodiment of her life she feared - into the back of her mind.

Side stepping a broken picture frame, Kagome placed her hands on the wall, guiding herself by touch to the very back of the house. Glass crackled under her feet as she moved swiftly and silently on soft plush carpet, and a stab of pain shot through her leg and up her calf. She barely winced, too intent on her destination.

She didn't have time to think about dreams or pain.

She had to find Kouga first.

Her hand found the doorknob to their room. Pulling herself from her thoughts, Kagome paused against the door, her breath caught in her throat. Pressing her ear against the wood, she listened.

Nothing.

Clenching her eyes briefly, she carefully pushed the door open.

Their room was in perfect condition. Her eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, easily sought out the shaking bundle on their mattress, his arms entwined in the blankets. He lay there with his head buried in her pillow, his shoulders shaking even from his curled up position.

Her breath whooshed out of her. Her eyes momentarily filled with tears before she was instantly at his side, her hands hovering over his soft head. Looking him over carefully, she drew in a ragged breath.

He stiffened at the sound.

Ever so slowly, his head lifted, his hair framing his face. Kagome stood stock still as after a moment's hesitance, Kouga looked up into her face.

He looked haggard. Tired, frustrated, pained, sickly. His hair was oiled and slick, his eyes red and strained. The skin on his cheeks and around his eyes was stretched, pale white, and he looked old. His lips were bluish, and all he could manage through his throat was a dry raspy breath.

It scared her.

They stared at each other a moment, eyes locked in an emotional battle. Then, suddenly, his eyes clenched, his shoulders shook and she wrapped her arms around his head, letting him bury into her lap like a sickly puppy. Smoothing over his hair, she held him tight, listening to his sobs, feeling his fists clench in her skirt.

But she felt the difference.

She felt the gentleness in which he clung to her, the tenderness even through his own turmoil. She felt the heart she loved beating underneath her hand, felt his words run across her lap in helpless frustration.

His tears soaked through her shirt, and she cradled him closer. Her Kouga was back.

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"I don't know what I can do for you Hijori-san." The voice said apologetically from somewhere around the floor.

Miroku nodded absently from his seat in front of the desk, staring at his hands apprehensively. A file cabinet drawer shut with a snap, and round, owlish eyes peered up at the quiet man. When Hijori Miroku didn't seem to notice his audience's gaze, Tamada Hachi sighed before getting up off the floor and settling into his desk chair. Pressing his fingers together, he stared at his dark skinned hands.

"I wish I had more information on what you wanted, but I'm afraid, there was little to no details found in the police records about anything under the name or alias "Spider"." Hachi glanced at the thin manila folder sitting in Miroku's lap and winced. "The problem is, is that although the warrant has been open for years, every cop has died in action or mysteriously disappeared before the man himself was found." Running a hand through his short hair, Hachi gave a weary sigh. "Seeing so many educated youths die that way under my office takes a toll on everyone obviously."

Miroku stared at the folder in his lap solemnly, having already flipped through its contents.

Fresh new lawyer or not, Miroku was as clueless to the most wanted criminal in all of Japan's where a bouts as anybody else.

Hachi continued quietly. "We do have a girl on the case though. As far as I know, she has had personal issues with "Spider". Her parents killed and her brother kidnapped I think it was. She is a prodigy, one of the best officers I have seen in any female. She is the best of the best, and at the moment is working right along side the investigator assigned to this case. But as hard as she is working, nothing new as of yet has come up." Hachi sighed wearily. "I just…don't know what to do anymore."

Miroku clenched his fist tightly.

Spider. Well known for his leadership in the black market, his dealings with the Japanese mafia, his dabbling in human splicing, cloning and mutilation, and his towering figure directing many of the terrorist organizations across the China Sea. Every victim found, and every henchman under his power had the mark of a spider burned on his back. Spider himself, was as unknown to the public as the living was unknown to the dead.

If only the man wasn't so slick, so smart. If the murderer was as dumb as most of the brutes on the streets, Miroku would have had the killer of his grandfather in his clutches and thrown the man into so many debts, financial turmoil, and physical harm that he wouldn't be able to crawl out of his rotting hole in one piece. Miroku cursed silently in his head, leaning against the palm of his hand in a tired frustration. If only he knew his real name!

Breathing out angrily, Miroku stood up, his face emotionless. Hachi stood up as well, his expression slightly worried.

Miroku glanced out the window, watching the streets below from the 22nd story of the police station. He watched as thousand upon thousands of people crowded across the streets of Tokyo, watched their bustling and arguing, watched them converse and fight. He watched with bitterness in his heart, at how all these people could live on when men were dying each and every day to fight against something that could destroy them all. He turned away, disgusted.

"Thank you for your help Tamada-san." Miroku finally said stiffly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. Hachi didn't even bother noticing the rude tone Miroku used, knowing full well that he was not the one his friend was angry at. Having known Miroku since high school, Hachi knew Miroku more then was given. He gave Miroku a curt nod. "Thank you for stopping by, Hijori-san. Its an honor to have someone with such learning come to such a small office for his work."

Miroku blinked, his earlier stiffness wiped from his face, before nodding back almost sheepishly. A silence passed between the two, each gazing back out towards the blood red sunset.

"Well." Miroku said quietly. "I think its time I take my leave." Hachi only nodded, still staring out the window. Miroku glanced at Hachi, stared at his medium stature, bulky, and shorthaired figure, before shaking his head. Slowly, he made his way towards the door.

"Oh, and Hijori-san?"

Miroku paused, his hand lightly gripping the doorknob. Hachi turned from the window and closed his eyes, sitting down in his chair. "Don't call me Tamada. My name has been, and always will be Hachi."

Miroku nodded, his back to the chief of police. "And I am Miroku, not Hijori." With that, he twisted the knob and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.

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"Kagomee…" Ayumi whined over the phone. "You can't do this…"

Kagome sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Actually, I can."

After putting Kouga to sleep and going through the carnage of her room, Kagome had found the phone once sitting on the nightstand and discovered it to be still working, though slightly dented. Then she had sat down on the floor and thought.

"But…but Kagome…"

After a long time and a lot of consideration, Kagome had finally decided that she wouldn't go to school tomorrow. She would be back on schoolwork, and also she would miss their school field trip, but at the moment, she was more needed here then there. Even if she had been looking forward to taking a break, Kouga needed her.

She wouldn't and couldn't deny him anything.

"I'm sorry Ayumi." She said, her voice tinged with traces of guilt she didn't really feel. "But mother needs me right now, as does Kouga, and I need to put my responsibilities top priority. Besides, if I don't go, nothings going to stop you from having a little alone time over with Kenji-san."

The little white lie about her mother was hard earned to prove wrong, since her mother really did need her, and the point about Kouga was the absolute truth. All she had to do, was visit the hospital for a couple of hours -hours she was already looking forward too, despite the suddenness of her decision and the fact that she had used it as an excuse to stay home-, then call Souta and see how he was doing, clean up the mess, order some more dining and living room furniture, and cook some soup for Kouga.

Besides, Ayumi was the least suspicious and most naïve of her friends, and that little tidbit about Kenji-san would surely set her off her rocker.

As usual, she was right.

"Oh…umm…that's right. Well…I guess it won't be that bad without you…"

It never really took much convincing to get Ayumi to agree with anything. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Kagome smiled. "Its not like I don't want to go Ayumi."

Ok…so…maybe she didn't…

"I know Kagome. Its just…you know…your always so strict and you never have fun anymore. I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

A warmth bubbled in Kagome's chest and she smiled a true honest smile. "I know."

"So…I'll see you in two days?"

"Yep."

"Okay then. I'll tell Eri and Yuka. Good-bye.

"Bye."

Setting down the receiver, Kagome smiled softly, feeling a small pang of guilt. She really truly did love her friends, and she did miss having fun with them. She missed the parties and the girls' night-outs, the movies and the sleepovers. She missed the teasing and the joking and the fights and the laughter. She…she missed it all.

Looking over at the bed, her hand clasped over her heart, Kagome spotted a dark brown head, its face buried in her pillow. Her smile turned tender.

But…it felt good to be with him too.

Standing up, Kagome wiped off the dust on her jeans and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Now…there was work to be done.

Giving a quick glance at Kouga, to make sure he was asleep, Kagome gave him one last smile before walking out of the room and shutting the door softly behind her. The hall way was dark, but with a quick twist of the blinds, it changed.

Suddenly, everything seemed a lot brighter. Light -shadowy noontime light- peeked out from beneath the shades, making squiggly pale lines run across the carpet floor. The hall lit up in a soft glow. The tall towering shapes that had littered the hallway like ghosts were nothing but broken frames and material things that didn't scare her now that there was no darkness to hide them. The shadows shrank and settled in small corners, part of neither the darkness or the light.

Bending down to pick up a broken vase, Kagome caught sight of small shards of glass gleaming in the light, almost blinding her. Reds and yellows and green and blues sparkled on the glass like a prism and her smile turned into adoration. It was…it was…beautiful.

She picked up the pieces of broken pottery and glass and wood carefully, humming softly to herself as she piled it into one corner to throw away later. After all the big pieces were settled together, she walked downstairs and pulled out the vacuum from its locked cabinet, thankful that it hadn't been ruined as well. Hulling it up stairs, she plugged it into the hall plug and turned it on. It roared to life, and she quickly vacuumed, singing a happy tune.

Yes. Even if the day had been hard and painful, it was looking brighter. It always looked brighter when her Kouga was back, and for the rest of the night and the morning, he would be. It made her smile and laugh and wants to go out and have some fun. Of course, he was still sick with a hangover and wouldn't even dream of going anywhere but dreamland, but it still made her happy. It gave her hope.

It made a world of a difference.

She finished vacuuming the floor. Now it was time for downstairs. Shutting the machine off, she hummed happily, gathering the cord into her hand to take downstairs.

She didn't notice the dark shadow creep up the stairs stealthily, making its way towards her. She didn't notice the white cloth held in its hand, or notice that its face was cast in a blackness impenetrable to the eye. She didn't see the gloved hand until it pressed an alcohol smelling fabric against her mouth, wrapping arms around her so she would not escape. She struggled valiantly, screaming at the top of her lungs, but her voice was muffled and she was helpless.

Darkness swam into her vision as she breathed and everything turned black. By the time Kouga woke up knowing something was wrong, she was already gone.

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It took him a second to realize what had happened, when the dreams that had plagued his mind non stop since as long as he could remember disappeared. It had been a flash of pain dotting at his side, something that had distracted his mind from the haunting broken images he called nightmares, and when it did happen, he didn't realize what was going on until a light filtered behind the darkness of his eyelids. He was awake.

And suddenly, he could breathe.

It attacked him at once. Oxygen flooded his lungs, burnings its way down an unused throat, and energy he had never felt before tingled inside his every limb. Purple and green spots danced beneath the light in his eyes and if he could, he would have screamed at the sudden pain that throbbed his body when the numbness of sleep dissipated. Instead, he could only whimper, his jaw clenched. Something sharp pricked into his palms, lightning down his arm, and he gasped, reflexively loosening his fist from its bloody grip.

What was going on?

What was this pain, and moving, and…and beating? Why was he alive?

Something hitched loudly close to his ear, and a beep sounded. Instinctually, he knew he was being set free.

Free? Free from what? Where was he? Why was he in this…this cage?

Pain shot through his head as something sparked and the tubes that had been pushed in the skin of his neck and arms withdrew, being drawn back into the metal cylinder that held him captive. He didn't notice his skin glow red where the holes had been, and then swallow up over itself. He didn't notice the wires circling around his arms and torso retract away from him.

It hurt too much to notice anything.

But after a few moments, a part of the person inside him pulled him from his panic, pulled him into reality and pushed him forward.

It was the humanity left in him that accepted what was going on, accepted that he had been trapped in a cage with no way to get out, had known all along that he was being used and mutilated. It knew, and it hated it to the very core of its existence. It felt pride, anger and pain; it felt sadness, loneliness and discomfort. It fought to stand, fought to move on, fought for pain as long as there was a way out. It fought for revenge, freedom and death. It was the part that made him human. It was the only part of him that had the mind to fight for such things.

His other half was just blind with rage.

His eyes opened, and he saw for the first time.

Water flooded his eyes, rolling underneath his eyelids, and he had to blink a couple times before his eyes changed to accommodate the strange foggy liquid. After a moment, his pupils narrowed into slits and he could see clearly. Something in his head told him he that he wasn't supposed to be able to do that, but at the moment, his mind was blank and he couldn't have cared if he had been threatened to do so. With quiet curiosity, ignoring the part in him screaming for an explanation, he turned his head and looked around.

He was in some kind of pod, surrounded by a liquid-ish substance. He tried focusing on the water, his eyes crossing, and he noted the color was not the normal blue, but a purple-magenta color that reminded him of…

He paused a moment, trying to remember what it reminded him of. Why couldn't he remember? He shook his head shaggily and decided he would think on it later. He looked at the liquid around him again.

Definitely not normal water.

His gaze traveled downward, noticing socket holes and wires drifting sluggishly beside him. White, foggy tubes snaked loosely around his ankles and waist, two ends sticking into the flesh right above his pelvis bone, and if he tilted his head at such an angle, he could see through the tube and into his body.

His fingers clenched at the tinge of blood fogging part of the tubes inside, and he almost jumped when something pierced the skin of his hand. Instantly relaxing his fist, he looked down at his hands.

He watched blankly as small plumes of red-black blood blossomed, changing into a violet as it mingled with the water. His eyes trailed up his palm, absently following the lines on his hands, until he came to the curling point of his fingers. Something poised at the edge of his fingers glinted softly, blackly, and his sharp eyes stared at it.

They were…claws…

Experimentally, he flexed his fingers, watching the tendons stretch and the muscle bugle right under his skin. Lifting up his other hand, he ran a finger over the smooth black nail, not even wincing as the sharp edge accidentally sliced some of the skin on his index finger.

He studied the slice. It was a clean cut. Suddenly, his finger twitched. His gaze swept to the tiny scratch.

Letting his uninjured hand drop, he watched as the sliced spot bled, before glowing a pinkish red and overlapping its frayed edges like waves, sealing the skin and rippling into a new piece of flesh. He blinked and inspected the finger, finding no trace of the wound.

A word swam out of the fog in his mind:

Regeneration.

He rolled the word over in his head, his tongue curling. Giving his finger one last shake he dropped it.

He stood there for a long moment. Long, soft straight strands of silver framed his face as he looked up and out of the glass panel shielding him from the rest of the world. His eyes caught sight of a blurry figure standing in front of the capsule, its arms crossed. His lip curled slightly. Can't see. His eyes shifted once again, and he saw clearly through the panel.

He stared into the face of a delicate woman with long black hair and brown eyes. He noticed her pale quietness and her silence; he sensed the air of power and mystery swirling around her. He noticed her beauty.

He remembered.

And he became angry.

The human part of him screamed, crying for answers "Why are you angry? What have I forgotten?" before the wildness in him let itself loose and it was swallowed into the darkness blanketing his heart. The part of him that had not forgotten, the part of him he could not control, raged beneath his skin, boiling his blood.

His eyes gleamed from amber to crimson red as he pulled back a fist and sent it flying through the glass panel separating him from the outside world. Water and glass scattered everywhere, throwing itself in all directions.

The woman ran, unafraid and controlled, but ran all the same. She was fast and powerful and had a mind that worked calmly under the pressure. She knew her way. She ran without a glance behind her, down corridors and passages and twists that no human could follow.

But then again, he was not fully human.

He chased after her, faster and more powerful then her, but blind with rage. By the time she had tricked him and was gone and unattainable, he had gone mad with bloodlust.

It was only a matter of time before he found his way out of his prison and into the city.

.

-~-

.

The darkness blanketing the building was still as the sound of malicious laughter ricocheted through every crevice, every space and every heart. It was an unmistakable laugh. Kagura clutched her fan in her hand as she heard its echo from her post at the cargo bay and fear curled tightly in her chest. She knew at once, that the game had started and the pieces were in place. It was a game of wits, and cunning, and trickery.

No one would stand a chance when her master came onto the board.

"Aneue…" a voice whimpered behind her, and Kagura turned to see the boy she had been watching curl into himself. She turned away and breathed shallowly staring out into the darkness. She opened her mouth to speak, her voice hollow and raspy.

"It has begun."

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~

Font: Verdana

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Words: 6,863