Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger

Confessions of a Fallen Man

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

NOW EDITED! Again I apolagize for uploading another unedited chapter. Hopefully this won't happen again (or too often).

NOT BETA'D! I'm sorry, but I haven't had time to get this looked over by my beta yet, so for now it will be RAW, but I should have it fixed soon-ish. Since the deadline for this prompt ends in less than 20 minutes, I have to update it now. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Prompt: 'A serpent, if it does not devour a serpent, does not become a dragon'

Night was waning, the sun making its sluggish rise on the horizon. Birds chirped, small animals waking up and venturing out of their hiding places from would be night predators, as the new day began. The people in the small village, too, rose from sleep, preparing for another day of work, but there was one among them, a stranger, who had been awake all night, blurry eyed from fatigue.

Kagome knelt beside her comatose companion, wiping his burning brow. Her back muscles twitched from bending over for long periods of time, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, but no matter how weary she might be, she did not have the luxury to rest as she so longed to do.

She gazed down at the handsome man who lay before her, face red with high fever, lips cracked, but moving, mumbling in restless unconsciousness. When she first arrived at the small village with Onigumo, she had not been overly pleased to realize that she would be the one expected to look after him, as the villagers did not possess a healer of their own. A traveling monk would stop by once every two months or so to look after the injured and ill, but he was not expected for at least another three weeks.

Upon arriving at this desolate village, Kagome had frantically knocked on someone’s humble home to beg for help to assist with the fallen bandit. A husband and his very pregnant wife had answered her desperate pleas, gazing at her with unveiled suspicion. News of the bandits traveled far and wide, and any newcomer was looked upon with suspicion. But after she had informed then that she was a miko, though she was not dressed as one, the husband reluctantly followed her to take a look at Onigumo.

The bandit yet lived after falling from his horse, but he was out cold, and nothing they could do would rouse him. It took longer than necessary—in Kagome’s opinion—to wake the village headman and ask his permission to house Onigumo and herself.

The headman’s mistrust had been plain for Kagome to see, and she had feared revealing Onigumo’s true identity, thinking that if they knew that he was a lord in the bandits’forces, the villagers would kill him when he was most defenseless. 

Normally, she would never think someone capable of such atrocities, but ever since her village’s destruction, the dark side of human nature had been brutally revealed to her, and she was taking no chances with Onigumo’s life. Though she hated the bandit with a passion, she wanted him to be brought to justice before a magistrate, not murdered while he lay unable to defend himself, even if he didn’t deserve the consideration.

Kagome was not like him; she was no killer. If he was to die for his crimes, it would be for the court to decide, not men and women looking for revenge. She did not believe killing one defenseless man could ever compensate for the lives he had destroyed, but she knew not everyone thought as she did. Violence only created more violence. She had learned that horrifying truth from Sesshomaru after he had slaughtered the ones who had taken everything from her.

Their deaths had not assuaged the pain of losing her loved ones, her friends, and her home. It only caused a greater sorrow to grow in her breast, the knowledge that she had allowed others to die, evil men, yes, but their blood was, nevertheless, on her hands. She felt dirty, unclean. Their deaths had only proved one thing, that she was no better than they, believing death was the answer to solve her problems.

Yes, she had been against the slaughter from the very beginning, but she had not called a halt to the Inugami’s destruction, had not allowed their contract to be dissolved, and allowed her life to be forfeit. She had realized, with bitterness, that she had been naïve to think she could outsmart the cunning demon, believing that if she could prove that she was not a heartless person, only looking out for herself and her wants, then she could prove him wrong. 

Instead, her stubborn pride had blindsided her, just as it had when she had insisted that she could beseech the Inu no Kami’s aid at his temple to protect her village, instead of waiting for Kikyo to return and take up the important and honored task.

Though she was fifteen, considered a woman now, she continued to act the child.

Now she was alone, her home gone, her life as she knew it forever altered, and Kikyo, the only person left alive who knew and cared for her, was missing. What was she to do? With ill feelings towards him, Kagome also missed Sesshomaru, for at least he was someone she was familiar with, even though she cared for him not, at least that was what she continuously told herself as the night waned.

Now it was morning. She was in a strange place, surrounded by people she did not know, homeless, alone, and forced to take care of a man she had every right to despise. But where was she to go? She knew not where to begin her search for her sister. Sesshomaru was gone, probably forever, so there was nothing she could do but sit beside this bandit, and help him heal. Perhaps when the traveling monk arrived in a few weeks’ time, he would take over Onigumo’s treatment, informing him of his patient’s identity, insisting on secrecy until Onigumo’s recovery, and then…

She didn’t know. Search for Kikyo without direction, walking aimlessly from village to village until she found her? That solution bordered on stupidity. She had no way to defend herself, knew not where she was going, and didn’t have the provisions she required for an extended journey.

Which left her stranded here, with Onigumo.

If she wasn’t so tired, she knew she would cry from despair. Instead, she continued to bathe Onigumo’s face and bared chest, for he only wore baggy hakama, and bandages wound his injuries. Likewise, she too wore new garments, an ugly brown kimono one of the village woman had allowed her to borrow. It was old, the material rough, but it was clean. Kagome couldn’t care less about her appearance. She had far too many more pressing concerns to worry about.

She paused, brought out of her thoughts when Onigumo thrashed about, mumbling incoherently. Before she could restrain him yet again, he subsided, too weak to continue, but he continued to murmur wordlessly, his head moving back and forth as did his eyes behind closed lids.

She wondered, not for the first time, what he dreamed about. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant one. What demons plagued his unconscious mind? Perhaps in his dreams, he was besieged by his wicked deeds. If that was the case, Kagome though he deserved his nightmares for the atrocities he had committed, a small penance for his past misdeeds.

All that day, Kagome spent tireless hours bathing Onigumo, trying to bank the fire that was his flesh. She wasn’t sure if he would live, wondered if she would care if he would die. She wasn’t certain she wanted him to live after all he had done, but she continued to nurse him, forcing water and broth constantly down his parched throat and giving him cooling baths.

No one helped her or ventured near the abandoned hut the village headman had allowed them to stay in. None trusted her, a stranger who had a deathly wounded husband. Or at least they thought he was hers. There was no way Kagome could have passed him off as a relative. He looked nothing like her, and though she was a miko, it was not unheard of for shrine maidens’ to marry; however, it was unheard of for a miko to travel alone with a man and not be considered a fallen woman, used goods, if he were not some of relation to her.

She hardly even thought about Sesshomaru in the long hours nursing Onigumo, too tired and busy to dwell on much, other than making Onigumo well. However, when she did think of the Inugami, mixed feelings of pain, anger, and betrayal surfaced, but underneath her chaotic emotions, she missed the silver haired demon, though she would never admit it.

The next morning, Kagome was dozing, propped up against the wall nearest Onigumo, an uncomfortable position, but she did not want to venture far from his side should he need anything, but was too weak to call out for her.

“Onna, wake up.”

At first, Kagome didn’t hear the voice calling to her, sleep dragging her down, but the male voice persisted, until she woke with a start, her eyes quickly falling to Onigumo. His brown eyes were open and aware, staring back at her.

She saw him swallow.

“Water, please.”

Muffling a groan as she forced sore muscles to move, she picked up a pitcher of water, and poured some in a clay cup, then shuffled closer to him. She curled her arm beneath his shoulders, lifted him up a few inches, and helped him sip the cool liquid by placing the rim of the cup to his cracked lips.

“Slowly,” she advised, making sure he did as she said by dribbling water into his mouth. She didn’t want him to drink too fast then vomit it back up.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes closed as she settled him back down.

“Do you need anything else? The privy? Food?” she inquired as she felt his forehead with the back of her hand. He was covered in sweat, but at least his fever had finally broken sometime in the night while she rested.

When he struggled to sit up on shaky arms, her hand fell on his shoulder, intending to stop him, but his strength gave out a second later.

“Careful,” she admonished him. “You just had a strong fever. You’ve been out for two nights.”

“That explains why I feel as weak as a babe,” he said in his rough voice, made gravelly by sickness and disuse. Then he grimaced, before meeting her stare. “Yes to both, but I fear I may need some help.”

Kagome flushed. Yes, she had assisted him with his bodily functions, but he had been comatose, unconscious. Now he was awake, and there was no one else to help him. Though she was a miko, her grandmother had always taken care of any male’s bodily needs if he was too sick or injured to help himself and had no wife to assist him.

He saw her discomfort, his eyes alight with both his pain, and mischief, but he said nothing, guessing correctly that if he teased her, she may refuse to help.

Trying to ignore his stare, she glanced away, stood to get the privy, and came back, kneeling by his left hip. She took more care than necessary to lower his blanket to his knees, hesitating briefly at his hakama ties.

“Please?” he rasped. “My need is very pressing. I’d rather not wet myself as a babe or elderly might.”

Her face scarlet, unable to talk past her embarrassment, her hands slightly shook as she untied his hakama. Though she had seen his male organ before after having to clean him up when he had, indeed, wet himself as a babe would while  he was sick, she told herself to act professional, and yanked down his clothing to his knees with more force than she meant to. 

He hissed in pain, his right hand moving to his thigh as the agony from his shattered knee and the hole in his thigh, escalated.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, mortified.

“Just give me a minute,” he rasped, eyes tightly shut, his teeth clenched in pain.

He didn’t seem to care that his male anatomy was hanging free between his thighs, dark hair surrounding the appendage Kagome had heard about but never actually seen until she had been forced to nurse him.

She couldn’t help but let her eyes wonder to that strange part of him. It rested across his left thigh, limp and…ugly. Bellow his shaft, she saw two round balls, knew that a man’s seed came from them, but they, too, were unappealing to her eyes.

She was vaguely disappointed by this discovery after years of mortified curiosity. Did they all look like this? It was almost…purple in color, the tip shaped like a mushroom.

Then, before her eyes, it twitched, making her jump, slightly startled her. She was unable to look away, eyes wide, as it thickened and hardened before her bewildered gaze. It rose from Onigumo’s thigh, and lengthened, straightening above his chiseled abs.

Dear Kami, had she though him small? It had grown almost twice its original size and was a couple inches shy of reaching his naval. It reared over the thin line of black hair leading downwards to the patch surrounding his enlarged organ.

As she looked, it jerked.

She gasped and raised her wide eyes to Onigumo’s smug face, a cocky grin plastered on his lips.

“Though I enjoy a beautiful woman’s appreciation, I now find myself in a conundrum. Not only do I need to relieve myself, I need to relieve myself.”

Kagome blinked, not understanding, but then she turned scarlet, finally realizing what was happening to him. He was aroused! She saw the same look in his eyes that Sesshomaru had given her on more than one occasion.

Mortified, she sputtered, which only made Onigumo throw his head back and laugh, the sound rasping and hoarse, but she knew once he recovered from his illness, it would be boisterous, infectious.

Right now, however, she was far from amused at being the brunt of his mirth.

“Oh, you!” Grabbing the wet rag from the water bowl she had used to cool off his overheated flesh, she threw the soggy cloth at his chest, where it splattered water over his muscular frame with a loud smack.

Her outburst only made him laugh harder, then cough horribly.

She glowered at him as he fought to catch his breath, though he still chuckled.

“I think you’re capable of relieving yourself,” she said darkly, rising to her feet and turning her back to him. “I’ll heat up the broth, and feed it to you after you’re finished.”

“Hey! Wait! Onna, come back here! I still need some help,” Onigumo called after her as she went into another room, ignoring his shouts.

He tried again.

“Onna!”

He waited a second, giving her a chance to meekly return to him, but she did not.

Scowling at the ceiling, then at the privy bowl, he reached for it, knowing she would not be back to help him, and he had to go—now.

Almost an hour later, she returned, bowl in hand.

Onigumo turned his scowl on her. “It’s about time you showed up. I finished a long time ago, no thanks to you. Now I’m starving. What did you bring me?”

Outwardly calm, ignoring his ire, she knelt beside him as she responded, “Chicken broth.”

When she moved to lift him into a seated position, propping him on a wooden crate she had found in another room, he growled at her. “Are you trying to kill me? I need real food. Go get me some meat, onna.”

She ignored him, dipping the spoon into the steaming bowl, before offering it to him, looking at him expectantly.

He turned his face away with a scowl. “Onna—“

“My name’s not onna,” she interrupted him. “Now open your mouth.”

“Wench, I do not—“

“It’s not wench either.”

He glared at her, ignoring the food she held out to him, until she put the spoon back into the bowl, her expression calm. “If you’re not hungry, then I’ll feed you later.”

At that moment, his stomach rumbled loudly.

He didn’t even blush, but continued looking at her, making her nervous.

“I do not know your name,” he said unexpectedly.

Kagome blinked in surprise. “Oh.” She blushed. “It’s Kagome.”

Of course, he didn’t know. She had never introduced herself. She hadn’t seen the point while Sesshomaru and she was…interrogating him, nor when she had bound his injuries, and she certainly hadn’t been able to when he was out of his mind with fever.

“A bird in a cage,” he murmured, gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t define.

“Hardly,” she replied, looking away from him, and again spooning the broth before holding it out to him silently.

This time, he leaned forward, and she obligingly lifted the utensil to his lips, She watched his adam’s apple move as he swallowed. As she fed him, she was again reminded how handsome he was, his black, curly hair flowing over his powerful shoulders and down his chest, the rest cascading down his strong back. His skin was bronzed from the sun, his chest hairless, save for the thin trail starting just below his naval.

He had a very strong, masculine face, bold with sharp check bones, and a square chin, covered in thick, black stubble. Without conscious thought, she asked, “Would you like me to shave you today?”

When his brown eyes leveled on hers, she regretted offering. She was already seeing to his basic needs as he healed; there was no need for her to offer any further aid, but before she could take back her words, he replied.

“If it bothers you, then yes. I’ve never had such a beautiful woman groom me before. It’ll be a novel experience I look forward to.”

The spoon clanged against the bottom of the bowl in her agitation as she spooned more broth.

“You can stop with the flattery. I haven’t forgotten who you are. We aren’t friends; we never will be. I am only helping you heal from your injuries until another can take over the chore. When you are sufficiently healed, you will be brought before a magistrate, to be judged for your crimes. Also, I don’t like you.”

Kagome said the last with such feeling, he lifted an elegant, black brow at her.

“Fierce little thing, aren’t you?”

She ignored him, silently offering him another spoonful of the broth, which he took without complaint.

“How long will I be starved like this?” he asked when he waved away another spoonful.

Kagome set aside the bowl, and moved the crate from his back, before helping him lie back down as gently as she could. Still he groaned.

“A couple days,” was her clipped response, covering him once more with the blanket. She had no desire to continue conversing with him.

Onigumo was tired. Sitting up had taken what little strength he possessed, but he didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. He didn’t want this woman to leave him, so he wracked his brain for anything to say.

“Where am I? I never thought to ask until now. The last thing I remember is approaching a village.”

Kagome nailed him with a dirty look. “Yes, the village you and your friends had planned to destroy.”

“None of those men were my friends,” he denied absently. “So we made it to the village? Why do they accept me amongst them? Surely they would not aid the enemy.”

As he was, they both thought at the same time, their eyes locked together.

“They do not know who you are,” she admitted reluctantly.

“You didn’t tell them?” he asked with some surprise.

Kagome glared at him, then spoke as if she talked to a dim-witted lout. “They would have killed you.”

Not appreciating her tone, he, nevertheless, allowed it to pass without comment.

Before he could speak, she moved to stand. He reached out and grabbed her wrist with his left hand, the hand nearest her, and the one that didn’t have a shoulder attached to it, riddled with wounds.

“Let go,” Kagome said, frowning at the hand that caged her.

“I know you hate me, and rightfully so. What I don’t know is why you’d go to such lengths for one you so clearly despise. You said I had been out of my mind with fever for two nights. Why would you help instead of abandoning me to these villagers to do with me as they will? They do not know my origins, as you have just stated. You could have abandoned me. Why do you stay?”

He was looking at her with such a deeply concentrated stare, that Kagome was having a hard time meeting his eyes, but she did not look away. Not wishing to reveal the whole truth, she hedged.

“No one here would have helped you. We are strangers here, and since bandits—you—have been terrorizing the countryside, everyone who is not known is looked upon with suspicion. Now will you release me?”  

She glared at him, then his hand that stayed her, and back at his face, making it blatantly obvious she did not appreciate being detained.

He must have seen something else in her expression, for he said, “No, there is something you are not telling me. Tell me the real reason why you could not abandon me.”

After staring each other down for long seconds, Kagome glanced away, unable to look into his indomitable gaze. Though he was physically weakened—though she couldn’t tell by the tight grip he had on her wrist—his will was as strong as ever.

What harm was there in telling him? Though none of the villagers had ventured close to the hut they shared, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t at some point. Her lie would be found out if she did not let him in on it, and, ultimately, play along.

“It would look badly for me to leave my husband,” she mumbled.

Onigumo jerked, then gritted his teeth at his sharp movement.

“We’re married?” he gritted between gritted teeth, sounding angry because his molars were clenched in pain. His fist unconsciously tightened as he rode the waves of agony.

Misunderstanding his tone and brutal grip, she yanked on her arm, trying to free herself. “Let go! You’re hurting me!”

Onigumo loosened his grip, but not enough for her to escape. Then he repeated, his voice more normal as the pain ebbed to a bearable level, “We’re married?”

She scoffed at him. “Of course not! I only said we were because they were asking too many questions.”

Why did he feel slightly disappointed by that news, he wondered.

“I see,” he lamely replied.

But then he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, glaring at him, while futilely trying to free herself.

“Stop that. You’re only hurting yourself,” he said absently before replying to her question. “Married to your hated enemy, even if it is pretend. How unpleasant that must be for you.” He chuckled again.

Kagome found nothing humorous by the situation.

Her hatred and anger for this man reached its boiling point. Snidely, she said, “To lie there helpless, forced to allow another, a woman, to care and provide for you. How you must hate it.”

Instead of becoming angry at her taunt, he turned a contemplative gaze on her. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Then he released her, saying, “Leave me. I am weary. I shall rest now.”

Kagome left him without a second’s hesitation, though she left confused by his admission.

The next time he saw her was later that day. She came in and told him she had to change his bandages. He had been awake for only a short time, probably not even an hour, when she sailed in; however, he had been calling for her since he had opened his eyes, and she had not responded. He was angered by her neglect, but he forced himself to calm. It would not do to push this woman too far. She may change her mind and abandon him, and he was in no shape to care for himself, though he was loath to admit it.

She had been correct when she had previously said he would hate being weak and helpless, forced to rely on another for everything, but he found he did not mind having her assist him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you,” he commented when he was sitting up, and she had begun to unwrap the bandages around his right shoulder. “You’re not like other miko I have come across. You’re too outspoken and aggressive for the shrine maiden’s docile lifestyle."

Angered by his assessment of her character, hating that he may be right, she said, “That’s none of your concern. You don’t know me.”

He surprised her when he said, “I’d like to.”

Her hands paused before she continued and took away the last bit of his bindings, removing the patch that covered the four holes in his chest she knew went all the way through and out his back. She remembered clearly how he had gotten the strange punctures. An image of thin beams of green light searing through armor and flesh entered her mind before she dispelled the memory.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Surely you don’t expect us to be silent for however long it takes for that monk to arrive you’re planning on abandoning me to.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she replied shortly, cleaning the dried blood before applying an ointment she had made from herbs she had picked from the fields to help stave off infection and ease his pain.

He didn’t make a sound, though she was sure she was hurting him, no matter how gentle she tried to be. However, she noticed his muscles flex and tense beneath her fingers. She refused to feel bad for him.

“Then if you don’t wish to speak, I will.”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

“Well, the only way you will be able to keep me silent is if you gag me.” He smiled at her while saying it.

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, which only made him laugh, as if he enjoyed her attitude.

As she worked on his other injuries, his cracked skull, the hole in his left thigh, and retightened the bindings on his splinted knee, he told her about all the places he had been while traveling with his men, regaling her with tales of things she had never seen, such as large cities, the jungle, the people he had met, and the animals and plant life he had seen. Never once did he bring up the destruction he had surely caused while traveling with his men.

Angered by her interest in places far away, at things she had never seen, she tied off his leg splint, and said in an unkind voice, “You probably raided and destroyed every place you just told me about. I have no desire to hear about the evil you have done, even when danced around the subject as you are now.”

“Not all were destroyed,” he replied.

When she rose to leave, not wishing to be alone, hungry anyway, he meekly asked, “Do you mind bringing me that broth you insist on feeding me? I’m hungry.”

Clearly she wished to deny him, but she nodded wordlessly. First, she helped him lie back down before leaving to heat up the leftover broth.

She came back thirty minutes later, helped him to sit back up, and though he trembled with the strain, feeling fatigued already, but neither of them commented.

Between spoonfuls, he told her about his childhood, that he grew up on a farm miles from the nearest village. He was the oldest of five siblings, four girls, and he the only boy. He told her about the farm, the chores he used to do, his dreams of leaving home and doing great things with his life, instead of wasting it away as he was.

“But you didn’t grow to do great things,” interrupted Kagome. “You murder, rape, and pillage. You’re nothing but a crook.”

“Half-true,” he admitted. “I may not have contributed for the greater good, but my deeds are known far and wide. I am a legend, feared.”

“So you’ve been a rotten seed since you were young, huh?” Kagome said, eyeing him distastefully as she fed him another spoonful.

“No,” he said simply without explaining.

Kagome reluctantly found herself intrigued. What would move a boy to such evil?

“Why did you become a bandit?”

His answer was flippant. “I thought you didn’t want to hear about that aspect of my life.”

She glowered at him. “Just answer the question. You’ve been open with me about everything else. Why not reveal how you started your debauchery?” 

“You’re a bossy little thing,” he said with obvious admiration.

“We’ve already established that,” she informed him, setting aside the bowl when he declined to have anymore. Then she flushed. Was she…could she be actually enjoying their verbal sparring? She hated him! As if she could like anything about him.

Focusing on the task at hand, she helped him lie back down, making him comfortable, then knelt beside him, waiting for him to continue.

“As you noted, I wasn’t born a bad seed,” he began. “However, I left out key points in my childhood. My father was an abusive drunk. He kept my mother pregnant more times out of the year than not. He needed help with the farm as he didn’t have the money to hire help. Though, that didn’t stop him from beating her when she was pregnant, causing her to miscarry countless times.”

Kagome felt ill by his revelation, but she did not interrupt, but gazed at him, fighting back sympathy.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised she was able to carry the five of us to full term, considering the circumstances. My father not only beat my mother, but all of his children, especially me. I suppose he thought I could take the brutal punishments on the account that I was a boy, his only male offspring. My father was none too pleased that my mother couldn’t seem to give him any more sons, and blamed her for it. Once, that I recall, he beat her to within an inch of her life when she gave him another girl child.

“Though my mother never abused any of her children, she never intervened when our father would strike us for fear he would kill her. When I was twelve, the farm was failing, there was no chance to save it, and so, he decided to sell off all his children, not wanting the burden of so many mouths to feed any longer, yet still make a profit. Needless to say, I ran away before he could. I have no idea what became of my sisters or my parents.”

What Onigumo described, horrified Kagome. How could anyone treat a child and wife thusly, she had no idea. Without meaning to, her heart went out to the little boy he had been, afraid of the one man who should have guided and protected him and bring him up to be a decent man. 

Onigumo continued, his voice holding no emotion, nothing like when he was telling her about his exploits with his men. Obviously, his past still bothered him. She hurt for him, forgetting for just a moment, who it was that laid before her.

“For the next three years, I moved from place to place, village to village, half-starved, and unable to find a place to call my own. I had grown to drink heavily, whoring around, uncaring about the life I had. It could have all come to an end, and I wouldn’t have given a damn.”

How lonely he must have been, was Kagome’s sympathetic thought, her heart in her eyes. She laid a comforting hand on his uninjured shoulder, feeling his warm flesh beneath her fingers. He didn’t seem to notice her gesture, lost in his memories.

“Then one day, after getting roaring drunk on cheap sake, I was tossed out of a tavern for trying to start a brawl. I landed in a mud puddle, but I was too intoxicated to care. When I had draggled myself to my feet, using a water barrel nearby, I looked down and saw my reflection. I did not like what I saw. My life came flashing before my eyes at that moment, and I despised my reflection. I was a no good drunk just like my father. I was…insignificant, scum of the world.

“It was then that I vowed to make something of myself. A week later, I met a foot soldier in a bandit’s army, who was regaling everyone with tales of glory and riches. Without really understanding what I was doing, or who I was consorting with, I signed up.”

When he fell silent, Kagome asked in a hushed voice, “Why did you stay with the bandits when you realized you’d have to…kill innocent people?”

“Because the only way to leave their service was to die, and I admit, I was a coward. I wanted to live.”

Kagome removed her hand from his shoulder, at first feeling contempt for him, but then she recalled that she had done the same as he. If she had been strong enough to let Sesshomaru kill her instead of agreeing to abide by their contract, she wouldn’t be at least partially to blame for so much death, no matter whose life had been taken.

Onigumo noticed her withdrawal. In an offhand voice, hiding his true hurt, he asked, “Do you condemn me for my choice? Believe that I was a coward, preferring to take innocent lives instead of dying?”

Kagome met his gaze squarely, emotions swirling in her chocolate brown depths. “I have no right to judge you.”

At first Onigumo thought she was merely trying to get out of answering by claiming she was no judge, and that only the kami’could, but when he saw her pained expression, he knew there was more to her answer than she revealed. Before he could inquire, she stood and said she needed to collect more herbs for his wounds. Both ignored the fact that she had plenty in the hut, and he allowed her to escape, intrigued once again by this strange onna.