The Brand by Leen

As Good As the Other

Author's Note:  I'm a long-time lurker around here, and I saw one of R0o's many linearts, and for whatever reason, this popped in my head. I have a busy career, so here's hoping maybe I'll actually type away at this from time to time, being as I never finish anything I write, it seems. Hope this isn't too bad!

I expect this to probably be closer to a series of short chapters. The first, is in Sesshomaru's point of view, simply to explain more succinctly how he's going into this story. The rest will most likely be third person. Bear with me.

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The brand wasn't meant for her.

The body of clay and enchantments was that which it was meant for.

It was a spell meant to turn the tide of things, one that traded power for excruciating pain, and if one wasn't careful, it would snuff the user's life out. A desperate move, but my own alliance with my half-blooded brother's pack was enough evidence of this. We were out of options, time, and worst of all, shards.

That is why they chose the undead miko. But something went wrong, there was a misstep perhaps... A flash of light, then the dust cleared, and everyone had been thrown to the outer ring of the hut, Inuyasha knelt beside the miko Kikyo. The confused, and rattled expression he flashed to me brought a furrow to my brow.

"What the hell? Didn't it work?"  With my own eyes, I could see there was no such glowing brand upon the dead woman's face. Her expression was as dull and sightless as ever.

The monk was the first of the humans to rouse themselves, and after holding his head a moment, he scrutinized the scene carefully and quickly. "If the spell didn't fall upon Kikyo-sama... Then who did it fall upon?" His wit was acceptably sharper than my brother's, at the very least.

As the others came to, I glanced about myself. Through the murmurs and the still clearing haze, I could see a dull, pulsing light at the opposite end of the structure.  Wishing to push down the frown of consternation threatening to settle on my face, I made my way to the as yet unmoving heap. As I settled on one knee, my sense of smell sorted itself, and I knew what had happened before my eyes adjusted. The frown couldn't be held at bay any longer, as I knew this would complicate things immensely.

There, sputtering upon the other miko's forehead, the miko that was still one of the living, was the brand. Her eyes were closed tightly, and she appeared to be refusing to get up. My frown deepened. 'This does not bode well for our purposes...'

"K.... Kagome? She's the one who got the mark?" My half-brother raged behind me, though I should be thankful he finally caught up. "We gotta do it over." I resisted the urge to melt him into a puddle in an attempt to silence his idiocy, but the taijiya saved him.

"Inuyasha, it can't be done again! That scroll was one of a kind, and the priest who made them is no longer alive!" She cried. It was clear she was attached to the other miko, and I was sure she understood the implications as I did. It was safe to assume the monk knew as well. There was no need to see their eyes, to recognize the scent of apprehension and worry.

With a low growl of disapproval, I hauled the woman in question to her feet. She whimpered, and resisted. I ignored.

"There is no choice. We use this one." I stated curtly, leaving no room for argument. There was no time for such things.