InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Yume ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru, or Jaken (but who would want to?)--they belong to Takahashi Rumiko. I do own a sad excuse for an attempt at reproducing Sesshoumaru's boa/pelt/muffler-thingy out of dryer lint, but it fell apart. And got fuzz all over my house. And made me sneeze. *sigh* So, don't sue, because I'm a sad excuse for a woman.

** For all you rabid Fluffy fans (you know who you are), here's your chapter! **

Yume

Last Chapter:

"Kagome," Inuyasha began, swallowing heavily, a look of deep, haunting anguish and confusion in his golden eyes. The knowledge and memory of another woman with echoing wounds hung in the glowing depths, "what the hell happened?"

Still in shock, visions of her dream and reality swirling together in a cloud of uncertainty and confusion, Kagome voiced the horrifying realization that burst upon her awareness.

"You--you killed me, Inuyasha," and with those damning words, the welcoming darkness eddying around the edges of her vision rose up and engulfed her in blessed, blank blackness.

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Chapter 3

Six months! Six long, frustratingly unproductive months had passed since his last acquisition, then nothing. A brief, scattered spattering of fruitless leads, then utter silence. The darkly seductive man blew out a deceptively gentle sigh, then pursed his finely chiseled lips and opened his eyes, crimson gaze studying the dancing shapes of moonshine and shadows playing out against the delicate paper of the shoji. He shifted his back a bit, adjusting his position against the wooden door frame, and brought his right knee up a little higher so his arm could rest more comfortably against his upraised leg.

The pose was artfully executed, giving him an air of casual elegance combined with thoughtful nobility, designed to make him appear wholly approachable. Not that he desired to be approachable to his servants-he much preferred them to be cowering in fear-but the habit, once formed, was troublesome to break, so he didn't bother wasting energy in the effort. Besides, if it put any underlings to a false sense of ease, all the better...it was much easier to manipulate someone not on their guard. Inciting utter terror took energy, and Naraku did not waste precious strength on anything that did not promise to benefit him eventually.

For the first few months of his concealment, he had not been phased by the static state of his grand plan, but as time wore on, doubts began to insinuate themselves into his thoughts. Doubts! He, who planned for every contingency, made certain that every seemingly-random turn of events went his way and never failed to achieve at least one part of a specific objective, was suddenly assailed with uncertainty. Sneaking, sliding, slithering its way into his mind, it threatened his unbreachable self-assurance. Preposterous! Unthinkable! But he refused to doubt himself-no, no.

Doubt was reserved for the weak and foolish. No, he only chafed because it was obvious, through his observations of the hanyou and his miko, that they were no closer to discovering the final bit of crucial information, as well. This rendered his ability to simply steal the final shard from them, after they were exhausted from the effort expended to acquire it of course, moot. Admittedly, they were hardly ever as well-informed as he, himself, always made certain to be, but still...They were his closest competition in this race, therefore fairly well-positioned to find out leads, as well-and probably posed the greatest threat to his success. Although that cold, arrogant bastard Sesshoumaru was a close second to the dubious title of his worst enemy, Naraku was not overly concerned. He had, after all, almost succeeded in assimilating the great and powerful Lord of the Western Lands into his own body.

He still burned with remembered rage when he recalled how close he had come to achieving the absorption of all that pure, unadulterated youkai power. It was one of the few times he had underestimated that bastard Inuyasha...

Naraku forced himself to relax and chuckled softly to himself, closing his eyes as he pictured the seductively predatory taiyoukai as he was now, wandering aimlessly, tirelessly searching for any traces of his self-declared enemy. No doubt the frustration of perpetual failure was stretching his famed emotional control to the limits. He may even be getting reckless, which would only be to his own advantage. Naraku allowed himself a moment of self-indulgence, visualizing an enraged Sesshoumaru losing control of his demon fury; transforming into his magnificent canine form, rampaging across the countryside, bloody and tainted and viciously beautiful in the midst of his wrath...

It was while he was centering his delighted thoughts on the ruthless demon lord that he felt it: a sharp surge in power, accompanied by a pulsing, glowing light emanating from an object secreted in his robes. Wrenching himself upright from his semi-reclined position, all traces of his calculated languid grace retreated in the face of his surprise. Delving one pale, slender hand into the collar of his haori, Naraku closed his fingers around a chunk of stone, suspended from a delicate silver chain around his neck. It seemed to be three-quarters of a small spherical shape, like a chunk had been chipped out of a large marble.

He hissed in pain when his skin made contact with the smooth contours of the stone, and he shifted his grip to the chain instead, dragging it out of the silken confines to face his startled scrutiny. The sight that met his fiery gaze explained the burn his demon flesh received, for the almost-completed Shikon no Tama-for that is what is was-was glowing a pulsing, pinkish-white instead of the tainted black it had been rendered by its close proximity to his evil heart. Someone was purifying the jewel!

As soon as this realization flashed across his mind, the stone gave one pronounced pulse, almost visibly vibrating with the force of it, and a blinding white light flared out from the heart of the holy jewel. Naraku jerked the pendant away from his body, snapping the fragile chain, flinging the stone across the room while hastily erecting a barrier around himself to protect his demon body from the deadly power pouring forth, purifying everything within its sphere of influence.

It was over within the space of a single heartbeat. The incandescent light faded just as quickly as it had been born, shrinking back in on itself-a collapsed supernova of holy energy returning to the womb from which it was created. An idea burst, fully formed and immensely exciting with the force of inspiring implications, across the dark landscape of Naraku's mind: someone had activated the full power of the Shikon no Tama-without it being complete. He didn't have to ask himself how he knew this to be true, for the proof was in what he had witnessed in the split second he had glimpsed the jewel prior to the wave of destructive force that had crashed against his youki shield.

In that instant, the Shikon no Tama had been whole.

Sesshoumaru's eyes snapped open, suddenly and dangerously alert. His adrenaline was still raging though his body, eyes fading from demonic red back to molten gold. A low growl was still rumbling in his chest as remnants of the bloody vision remained firmly embedded in his now-conscious mind. For a brief, disorienting moment, his trademark emotional control-so essential to his existence-was no where to be found. Levering himself up to a sitting position, he lifted his elegant hands before him, certain they would be stained crimson with blood. Her blood. A shudder worked its way through his lean frame, and he noted with detached wonder that his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Letting out a deep breath, he slowly took in the peaceful sounds of the forest, grounding himself in reality. The rage and pain of the vision faded, but not the mystery-or the grief. Grief? He scoffed at himself. He, Sesshoumaru, did not feel grief, for he was no longer fool enough to allow someone close enough to create such a hazardous potential for weakness.

He pushed the image of a small, sunny girl to the back of his mind. She had nothing to do with this, regardless of his mystifying tolerance of her. She was a diversion, an entertainment to ease the ennui created by centuries of living; a burden foisted upon him by the whims of the Tenseiga, that cursed, worthless sword that hung off his sash, constant reminder of his father's humiliating legacy to him. No doubt his wise and powerful sire had meant to impart some worthless lesson upon his eldest son.

If Sesshoumaru were given to any form of emotional expression, he would have snorted (elegantly, of course). He did not need to be tutored on weakness by a sword that was not a sword; his father's ignominious downfall had taught him everything he needed to know of self-betrayal and failure. He, Sesshoumaru, did not feel anything for humans beyond contempt and, in rare cases, a certain level of tolerance. No dream female was going to cause him to discard the personal edicts he had lived his life by, and which had served to protect him so very well. Even if her power was as enticing as her scent, or a single touch of her soft hands could set his blood boiling...

Sesshoumaru viciously swiped his hand in front of him, deadly claws slicing the air, wishing that it was flesh and sinew he was severing. Ah, wanton destruction would do much to cool the raging heat of his demon blood.

Blood.

He lifted his hands to his face once again, as if to wipe away the last impressions of the vermilion rush of hot, viscous, life draining away from her pale, still form, flowing over his hands and the soaking the ground as he threw back his head and howled his agony to the skies...

Sesshoumaru grew very still. Even the breeze ceased to lift and tease the opalescent strands of his hair.

Hands.

Yes, he had held her with his hands. Both his hands, which were now miraculously restored to him. He lifted his face away from his palms and studied the elegant, lethal, matching limbs spread before his burning gaze in symmetrical supplication. Taunting him with the memory of the dream that wasn't a dream. Teasing him with the remembered feel of her bare skin under his touch. Daring him to believe in the promise of power she offered-and act.

Sesshoumaru may scoff at weak emotional displays, choosing to ignore the feelings that rocked him to the core during his dream, but, being the supremely intelligent being he is, his mind immediately latched on to the implications of his instantaneous regeneration...and the possibilities it presented.

A light slowly kindled in his golden eyes, a smouldering fire of possessiveness and triumph. The promise of power, indeed. He had no desire for the bauble, the jewel. It only served to corrupt those weak, rabid masses craving a force greater than they could possibly handle. If his vision was to be believed, though, the Tessaiga could finally be within his grasp. All he had to do was find this wench, this miko who was mistress of the Shikon no Tama. A human.

His sensibilities shuddered at the thought of being forced to associate with one of that filthy, unintelligent race, but he could not deny the extreme strength of her power. The seductive pull of it. Though his pride may suffer briefly for it, once her usefulness was at an end, he could easily end the distasteful affiliation and, if necessary, dispose of her quickly enough. To wrest control of his father's fang from his mongrel half-brother and finally secure his lands, Sesshoumaru was willing to go to extraordinary lengths-and depths.

He ignored the tiny voice that whispered his feelings from the dream were not going to be that easy to push aside. Instead, he concentrated on the most likely candidates to pursue, and determined his first course of action. He knew just where to begin.

Something close to a smile teased the corners of his stern mouth, and a predatory gleam kindled in his golden gaze. If Jaken had been present as witness, he would have run squawking in utter terror, certain of the apocalypse, for a low, rich, viciously amused sound was issuing from his master's pale throat.

Sesshoumaru was laughing in anticipation.

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Big, BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed. *bows and grovels* I can't believe the responses I'm still getting for this! O.o I'm so happy! *runs in circles like Rin on sugar* Aahh...just a few

really quick ANs, then Fluffy has a request.

Several people have seemed slightly confused about the first chapter-it's supposed to be slightly confusing (though I don't want to lose anyone completely) because it's a dream. Yep, the entire chapter. It's supposed to have that slightly disjointed, surreal quality all good dreams have. You know, open to interpretation, fraught with hidden meaning, seeing your future in the cornflakes...sorry. Wrong analogy. Well, it's also a frightening little visit into my most vivid dreams-I always sustain this mortal injury, though I never actually die. Why is that...?

Moving along. Yes, this IS a Kagome/Sesshou pairing. It might not seem like it for a while, even, but bear with me-drawing out the tension. I just want to keep my Maru-sama to myself as long as possible! (Sess: Get. Away. From. Me!) I didn't just want to jump into the relationship head first. She's a human who was in love with Inuyasha. He's a powerful, emotionally constipated youkai lord with fangs and claws. You do the math: they get together now, somebody gets hurt (though that could be fun, too).

Tom: I hope the margins are okay now. You've made me paranoid about my formatting! I'll try to think of a way to work Kagura in, eh?

Kin=chan Pandun: Pretty scary that the dream sequence is based off my own twisted subconscious imaginings, huh?

Mandi-chan: Thanks! I work very hard at keeping him out of the OOC trap. It's hard not to give in and make Fluffy all fluffy. But so very tempting...

Eqlipse_Moon: Did I update fast enough? Hope the plot gets moving along fast enough for you, but I don't want to rush it.

AnimeHuntress: Thank you so, so much! My first MM.org review-ever! I worked hard to find a plot line that hadn't been over done (fried a few brain cells in the process), so I hope I don't disappoint when everything comes to light. Let me know what you think!

D.d. and Raven39: Oh. My. God! Some of my most favorite authors reviewed ME! *squeals like a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl* `Flattered' does not begin to describe my joy at having (hopefully) impressed you all. "Hunted" was a powerful piece of writing-and you are such a tease cutting it off like that! "Vengeance, Death by Desire" is one of my all-time favorite Inuyasha fics, though I do enjoy "All We Need"-how did Kagome end up w/Roushou? And, hurry up and update your stories, you two! I check your bio pages EVERY DAY, waiting like a sad little puppy for that next treat...

Sess: So, when do I arrive to kill the half-breed?

TT: Now, now. That's not very nice. Besides, you can't kill him.

Sess: *raises eyebrow and looks down nose* And why is that?

TT: Because then a certain miko, who shall remain nameless, will hate you.

Sess: *shrugs* So?

TT: Well, if she hates you then she won't fall in love with you.

Sess: *sneering* Love?! Why would I want to debase myself with my worthless half-brother's wench?

TT: Because, if you don't fall in love with her, you have to fall in love with me. *snuggles Sess's arm*

Sess: *eyes narrow dangerously* Get. Off. Me. Wench. *cracks knuckles theatrically*

TT: *releases arm* Gotcha. *pouts* You could show a little love for the woman who is letting you express your softer side, you know.

Sess: *growls* I don't have a softer side.

TT: *snickers* Yeah. Right. And you keep Rin around for entertainment purposes only.

Sess: *swipes at TT with claws, growling*

TT: Eep! Gotta run! Come see me in a week or so!

Sess: Don't forget to review...if you write in, I might be able to kill something faster. *chases TT offstage, grinning madly*