Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or any music suggested.
Author's note: So I do suggest listening to: mono- Nostalgia, Brandford Marsalis- Emmanuel, Javier navarrete- Long Long Time Ago, and finally Skylar Grey- I know you. All of these were what I listened to creating this. I think it adds (lol). Happy reading.
Remember
There were a few things she’d learned since walking through the feudal era. First, victory was glorious, and wretchedly bought.
One without the other could never exist. It was the balancing scale of life. What brings happiness will also bring heartache. What brings pleasure would also bring pain. And second, death was eternal. There was no returning. The most one could wish for were painful shadows, murmuring voices, phantom touches, and eclipsing silhouettes of that which would never be.
A dancing puppet, but never real. An illusion bound for demise.
Yes, death was eternal. And if returning ever broached the table of opportunity, if a shadow could ever truly step from its darkness and scream its existence, then no longer was it the same. No, from that second forth, it was forever changed.
Her midnight hair whipped in the strong currents, though feeling was far beyond her. That curse had been lifted from her the moment she made the killing blow to Naraku, and stepped forward as a sole survivor. And now, she assessed an army of forfeited lives before her.
With a crunch, she stepped deeper into the field, cracking, fusing, and rebuilding with each step. At some point, ice had begun to fall in the chaos of battle. And now, it was almost poetic. Snow as dead silent, as the lifeless men. Their whispers of glory, of accomplishments, and victory only carried by the phantom groans of the wind. A bath of cleansing and renewal, tainted in stains as black as sin. A dotted crimson field, like the splatter of paint across fresh paper from a furious artist.
Powerful, beautiful, and simply sad.
Her bow at her side dropped like dead weight to the ground, finding a resting place amongst the gore as she walked. She didn’t need it anymore anyway.
Yes, power came with a price, and virtuous beings died far before their time, while chaos continued to impregnate the world. It was the way of creation, a cyclic thing meant to totter precariously in its frame. Held in place only by the lucky ‘survivors’.
Stumbling to a stop, Kagome looked upon the faces of friendship frozen in unending rest, and struggled to breath.
All of them slaughtered, masks of pain, of dread, of despair painted permanently on their countenance.
The price. She numbed further, then took three more steps, mapping out the battle. Trying her damnedest to forget Miroku and sango’s tear stained faces and un-touching outstretched hands. Trying to forget the silver haired dog boy with his guts strewn across the field, as if it were some carnage themed tinsel. Trying to un-see, all the mangled bodies, scared faces, and nightmares to come. But who else other than her was there to remember.
Who else but her would carry their story on?
Her sight blurred momentarily, perhaps from tears, or maybe the snow as it had begun to fall heavier, desperate to cover, freeze, and destroy the traces of agony. It seemed even the Gods didn’t want to look upon this turmoil.
Too bad, she would make them.
With a powerful surge of energy, she domed the field in a shield of iridescent pink, stopping the snowfall from coating any more than it already had. If the Gods hadn’t wished to witness the gore, then maybe something different should have happened.
Jaded that’s what she felt. What did it matter now though? Her adventure was over, lives were traded, time was wasted, and all for a jewel.
Her hand fisted around the blood soak ornament as she pushed forward, unwilling to even look at it. Sick to death of it, of its responsibilities, of the blood that more than stained her soul. No she was drowning in blood because of it. Was it worth it?
The question had bugged her for weeks. And for weeks she had deemed it of being the upmost importance. She’d believed that the Gods would favor her and her simple militia. She’d innocently, stupidly, trusted that all fairytales ended well. That good won no matter what, and evil would sink into a deep hole of unmaking.
And here she was, the forlorn victor, champion, vanquisher, defeater, winner.
Alone. And still suffocating in crimson blacker than night.
Her chest heaved, her jaw tightened, and suddenly something within her snapped. She was no savior. She was the evil that mother’s warned their children of. She was the temptation that killed, the darkness that bred, the hate that festered, and the loneliness that ached! She was destruction, devastation, desolation! She was the sole ‘survivor’. She damned the innocent to suffering, all for the sake of a jewel.
Her indifference, hate, and anger, all pulled back like the tides preparing for a tsunami, and just as deadly, the pain surged. Her hands shook, her teeth chattered, and her body dropped unable to remain standing under the strain of such agony.
All of it, her fault.
Her mind flashed back to the beginning, to the well house with mistress centipede, to the crow who stole the powerful bauble, and the arrow that started all of it.
And every inch of misery made complete sense.
She should have died.
Her body vibrated with energy, the wave of pain cresting. Every iota, she cherished, hoping for it to be enough. This was what she deserved.
Her smile stretched from ear to ear when she lifted her head back. Salt water tracking its way in waves down her face.
There was nothing left. Only her. Alone.
A pressure settled deep in her chest, growing, burning, building till finally her mouth opened and a roar spilled out. She roared for the lost, calling the names of her fallen. She sobbed to the Gods screaming, cursing their names till her throat bled. And finally, she fell onto her side into the crimson stained snow, dizzy, wasted, and tired. And in the silence she watched the beautiful gem, that stole it all, swirl pink then purple in her outstretched hand, thinking.
As the sun settled just behind the forest of Inuyasha, she moved to stand, her mind made up.
It was decided.
Her shield flickered about the field and fell, and as it did a voice called.
“Miko.”
Her eyes remained focused on the jewel. She knew who called her; she also didn’t care. He hadn’t come for the battle. They’d captured his ward, and still he did not come. Rin was dead now. She had no reason to work with him, he would never understand. This was too much, living with it would kill her.
“Pristess.”
Closer, he was closer. She could hear him just to the left, superior, and all knowing. But too late.
With eyes swirling in madness, she raised the gem between her palms, the chant just at the tip of her tongue. When abruptly an arm of steel wrapped around her midsection.
Shocked, she froze, unable to even recall what she was about to chant. His arm felt so warm, so comforting, so…. Her lip trembled perilously, and her throat chocked closed in grief. She didn’t want to cry, least of all in front of him. She thrashed once, trying to break his hold, trying to concentrate. But he was strong, and held not only firm, but pulled her closer into him, curving his body around her own shaking form.
No. This wasn’t real. Her eyes closed. Fighting for steadiness, she spoke.
“Let me go.”
Her voice was hoarse and even though she’d attempted indifference, it wobbled; but the chill she was working for came through loud and clear. She sounded dead, even to her own ears. A powerful command.
He pulled her closer, turning her into his chest, holding her head against his armor-less torso, as he stroked her hair.
“Miko, this is not real. Return to me.”
“I know it isn’t.” Her voice shook with tears, but she couldn’t find the energy to care anymore. Why did it matter if she spoke strong or weakly, there was no way this was real. Sesshomaru would never hold her. He would never comfort her. He was never without his armor. And last she’d checked he’d saved her from the poison master, but only because he happened to be there, and had wanted to kill the poison master for personal reasons of his own. Not only that, but there was no way for him to know that she liked her hair to be pet, that it soothed her.
No this was pure illusion. But would it harm her to enjoy a few moments of niceness before ending her own life?
The cold wind blew harder, gusting her midnight hair into his silver tresses, sending her body to shaking again as the snow poured down faster in the waning light.
Illusion sesshomaru noticed, and without saying a thing, his boa manifested, and slowly coiled around her, warming, cocooning, and calming. It smelled so familiar. When it was completely settled about her, he wrapped his arm back around her, and pulled her taunt against his chest once more, wiping her tears.
At least for a moment, for just a second, she would get to experience what it felt like to be cared for. Her eyes glanced back, watching as the sun approached the horizon through the trees, ready to greet its wife for the second time that day. How fitting.
“Miko. What are you waiting for? Return to this Sesshomaru, immediately.”
Illusion Sesshomaru sounded scared. His words were low and tight, almost pleading. But it was nothing more than that, an illusion. She’d always wanted to be needed, to be wanted. The fact that illusion Sesshomaru continued ask for her return made sense. With a shaky sigh, kagome buried her head into his chest nose first, and savored the tight embrace for a second longer.
“Return to me Kagome.” He whispered, his breath hot against her ear, and heavy with obvious pain.
But there was nothing to be done. She waited until the sun kissed the ground, bringing evening, before pulling back.
And immediately craved to be in illusion Sesshomaru’s arms once more. This was why one never indulged illusions, they felt too real. She’d known this, and yet she’d allowed herself to fall for it.
“Kagome?”
Illusion Sesshomaru stepped closer, reaching to pull her back in his hold. But she stepped out of reach once more, shaking her head. It was officially time.
She tried to shrug the boa from around her, but found the thing clinging persistently, and illusion sesshomaru was once more reaching for her. His face sketched with worry.
“Kagome, listen to me. Return to my side-“
His eyes darted to her concealed hands as if he already knew. As if he already could see into her mind, and understood what she was doing.
“-This isn’t real. Do not use the jewel!”
It would be so easy. Her heart fluttered at the thought of staying, living an eternity in this dream. But nothing would be real, and nothing would be fixed.
Her eyes found his, savoring the reflection of need, want, worry and love. So beautiful. And then she turned, her eyes glistening as they surveyed the grounds in the finally light, taking in the death toll once more. Her fault.
She glanced back at Sesshomaru, and put another few steps between them. The illusion didn’t like it, he growled, and reached for her, pleading for her to return. But she’d created another shield. Even the illusion wouldn’t be able to reach her now.
“Kagome! Do not do this! Return to me!”
She smiled a bitter sweet smile, and softly spoke.
“I’ll fix this, and all will be well-“
“Kagome, this isn’t real! I swear to you upon our mating marks this is not real. You are in an illusion!”
Her hand clenched the pulsing shikon, her heart racing. It was real. She was real. The death around her was real. But Sesshomaru was not. Though he seemed more real with each passing second, as he threw himself against the pink shield she created, desperate to reach her as he spoke.
“Little Miko! You once told me, you hated being called priestess. I do it to aggravate you. I’ve taken to calling you little miko because of your tiny stature and young age. Think. I’ve told you my age before. Tell me how old I am Kagome!”
And oddly enough she actually knew. Her eyes widened a moment, then narrowed again. It was the illusion getting stronger. She was such a fool. With a spin she turned her back to the false Sesshomaru, and pulled the jewel into prayer position.
“Kagome, listen you stubborn priestess!-“
Oh, man did that sound familiar.
“There is a mating mark on you left shoulder, pull back that priestess garb you hate so much and witness my truths.”
With the sun just barely peaking over the ground, Kagome turned, eyes glowing with power and bone weary sadness. Too late.
“Im so sorry.”
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