InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Unworthy One ❯ Chapter 3. The Miko's Field... ( Chapter 3 )

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

**Not for Kikyou Lovers! This story contains violence, sexual content and rape! You are WARNED**

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor any of the associated characters. But it ain't because I don't want or wish to do so.



Chapter 3. The Miko's Field...


She writhed like this for about a quarter hour before she lost consciousness, either from exhaustion, the pain, or her injuries. It was most likely a combination of all three. It was disappointing, he decided. He had heard her screams, and for the briefest of moments it had pleased him. Then the pleasure that he thought he would have, at torturing his brother's wench, left him and all he felt was guilt.

Guilt at causing the little Miko more pain. Pain that he knew she didn't deserve, and that he had no right to inflict on her. He shook himself, angered even more. This was ridiculous. He had no guilt. This weak and more than pathetic ningen, meant nothing. She was just a source of information. Answers that he would have and then he would dispose of her. He would not feel such a useless thing as guilt for such a worthless creature.

As there was nothing he could do with her until she came to, he tore the lower part of his garment that he had wrapped around her, and rinsed the blood out of it in the lake. He then used it as a cloth to clean her wounds, and to staunch the flow of blood. That any ningen, hell any living thing could bleed that much, and not be dead was almost miraculous. And why had the smell of blood not drawing of the many lesser youkai that even now he could sense in the area, to her.

With all of that blood, he had smelled her miles away, yet none of the wild youkai had seemingly approached her. None of it made any sense. None of it was natural.

As he cleaned her wounds and looked to make sure he had not missed any, he happened to catch sight of the soles of her feet. What he saw gave him pause as to her statement that she had walked to the lake from wherever the battle had been fought. Her shoes were gone, even those odd and useless leg coverings were gone, probably lost during the battle. What really attracted his attention and pulled another gasp from him, was the condition of her feet.

It was just not humanly possible for anyone, to have walked on feet like hers. There remained no skin on the bottoms, and in fact, the one foot had a serious puncture wound that passed right through from the center arch to the top. Dirty, and grass clung to the clotting blood and they already showed signs of infection. In fact, the only way that they could have been infected that badly was if she had been walking not only for a long time over rough ground unprotected, but for days, probably at least a week.

Even her legs were covered in cuts and scratches showing that she had walked through dense undergrowth in the thickest part of the woods somewhere. He tore some strips of the shirt he had put on her, from the sleeves and using the earlier cloth to carefully clean her feet of all dirt and grime, he used the strips from the sleeves to carefully wrap them so as to at least keep them clean. They would need some serious attention or she would never walk again.

She was still unconscious by the time he finished, so he decided that now would be a good time to see if he could learn something from the surrounding area. With wounds like those, there just had to be a trail that led back the way she had came. With that in mind, he scouted around the immediate area until he came upon the scent of Naraku angling away from the lake not far from where he had found her.

But she had said he was dead that she had destroyed him. If that was the case, then why did he smell Naraku and the undead bitch, but not Kagome? Where was the scent of her blood? Why was there no scent of her? More than that. Why was the scent of the two fading, almost as though being washed away?

As he tried to trace the trail back to find where she had come from, he continued to notice that the smell of Naraku and the undead priestess was fading still more. No, that was not quite right. They were not fading. They were changing. Like something was covering them up, or replacing the vile stench with something much more appealing. It was a gentle and soothing scent, familiar and yet different. In fact, it almost seemed, no it was. It was the smell of Kagome that was overriding the scent of the vile hanyou and that thing that had wanted to take his baka brother to hell.

That was when he began to notice something else that was odd. It was early spring, and it would be weeks yet before the flora in the area began to respond to the warming of the season. As he continued to track along the path of the changing scents, however, he noticed an ever widening path of flowers. The fragrant blooms of moonflowers that one would expect to find on late summer evening, having been warmed by the day's heat, and filling the evening air with a heady, almost intoxicating fragrance.

He found himself deeply inhaling the scent, as it calmed and soothed his anger and calmed his beast. How could this have happened and why was he being drawn so by first her blood and now her scent, for it was obvious that the scent being given off by the flowers, was the scent of Kagome.

Before he could continue on this line of thinking, he caught his foot on something and when he looked down he found the remnants of a bow and broken arrow. He bent to examine them more closely. Both had been well made of the strongest yew, and ash. It would have taken a lot to have snapped such quality as these were, and yet not only had they been snapped, but shattered. In fact, they were more splinters that anything at all.

Now knowing what to look for, and what scent to follow, Sesshomaru decided to take to the air. It would be much faster and he didn't want to really leave her alone too long. He still had questions and she still had the answers. Answers that he would have or she would pay dearly until they spilled from her mouth like the blood from her veins. The very blood that he so longed to taste.

At least that is what he told himself, although his beast totally disagreed. He simply growled back at the darker side of himself, and continued on his trek.

Finding the battlefield was not nearly as difficult as it had first seemed. In fact, her path now completely covered in the wild growth of mid summer's late evening moonflowers was so easy to follow, once he took to the air, he had but to look and he could see her winding trail with ease.

When he finally got to the field, where the last battle with Naraku had occurred, he found that he had to sit for a moment. Not in shock or anger, but in awe. The only signs that the clearing he now occupied was once a battlefield were the few remaining bones of an assortment of youkai. At least at first glance.

He wandered around the clearing, trying to get some idea of what had taken place in the last few moments of the battle. Off to one side, it was evident that the Taijiya had been standing near and wielding her great Hiraikotsu. The huge bone boomerang stood leaning precariously against a tree, where it apparently have been dropped in the heat of battle.

Nearby, was the shakoju stood, standing upright where it had been stabbed into the heart of a youkai, the ribcage still surrounding the staff, and pierced into the ground below. A small, oddly shaped mound nearby, drew the Taiyoukai's attention. He approached it, and leaned down to examine it more closely. He poked at the seeming mound of fragrant flowers, only to have a portion of it shift and fall away. Beneath he found what appeared to be a hand. A hand that was as fresh as though the person it belonged to were merely sleeping quietly.

He moved some of the flowers aside to confirm his suspicions, only to find the bodies of the Taijiya, held in the arms of the houshi, the neko youkai curled in the Taijiya's lap, and the kitsune resting in their arms. The only sign that they were all dead, was the coldness to their skin, and the lack of a heartbeat in their chests signifying that the pumping of their life's blood had stopped.

Near the center of the field another smaller mound lay. He already had his suspicions of who it was, but some how found himself needing to confirm it with his eyes. The silver locks of hair that slid out from beneath the flowers, and the pointed triangles that were once animate ears, gave proof of the presence of his half brother. Tetsusaiga was still held tightly in his clawed hands, and if it had not been for this, he would have looked as though he were just peacefully sleeping.

He attempted to take the sword of his father's fang, unfortunately, even in the underworld his brother had the upper hand, as the great fang of his father's still was sealed with the barrier that had long prevented him from possessing it, and still lie bound to his brother protecting him even in death. Nursing the slight burns that he got for his efforts, he fought down his frustration and turned away.

He wandered around some more and once again found himself bumping something with his foot. It, too, was a bow and arrow, barely recognizable as such having like the other one been shattered almost beyond recognition. Oddly enough no neighboring mound accompanied this bow. The faint odor of bones and death was clear indication that this had to have been the last place that the undead priestess had stood before her own demise.

It was obvious from the site that all who had opposed Inuyasha and his pack had been purified into nothingness, while the ones that meant the most to the little Miko seemed to lay as though preserved by some unseen hand, awaiting something. But Sesshomaru was not sure what that something was.

Seeing that he could not get much more information from here, at least not without more answers from the only person who would even remotely have them, Sesshomaru set about returning to the onna. He knew of a small village a short distance away where he knew of an old miko who he was readily able to get a few items for treating wounds and a change of clothes. He was not yet willing to just let death take the girl. He had more questions now than before, and he was determined to get his answers no matter what it took to get her to give them.

He remembered an old witch. One that he knew was not, too far off, and thought of something that might help him to obtain his answers more readily. It would be a last resort, but he felt that if it came to it, the idea would bring more benefit than the risks involved. With that thought, he made one more stop before returning to the lake.