Arise, fair Sun to meet the Moon

“Where the scent of life goes, a wilted rose still holds fragrance.” His voice, whispery velvet in the haunted courtyard. “Twisted essence, morbid faces. But the thorns of vengeance are still sharp. The cut of a barb is jagged and painful.”
Her nubile form shuddered, pressed between the hard wall and his own self, trapped and helpless; eyes half closed. Stripped to the waist, she was fully his. Kagura’s only saving grace was that she was slave to master, could not have resisted even if she had the strength to do so.

“What more do you want?” She sounded husky and weak, lost in her ecstasy. “You have my heart, do you take my pride as well?” Her back arched, she ground into him when his fingers played her spine. With that inevitable thread of fate, she could not contain the moan that waited at the tip of her tongue. It was long, and when he finally released her she fell to her knees, breathing hard.
The gesture brought her throat to the thin sheet of paper, hand drawn away to slit her skin. The blood of Naraku, from self to self, stained its surface. It had been quick, so effortless she could not sense it. Naraku cupped her chin in his hand, gauging her thoughts. She deserved to know.
“With your small sacrifice, great things will be set in motion.”

He let the poisonous gasses claim her; asphyxiation was a painful way to die. He savored her gagging as long as he dared, grabbing her by the throat and shoving the bloodstained paper inside it like a cork in a wine bottle. Some sights were impossible, beyond the imagination of many. Not so for Naraku, his only answer for the thing that happened next was a ravenous smile.
With a wad of damp, inked bark inside her windpipe, one would find it hard to come up with a reason as to why she could scream with such spine-tingling anguish. In a sickening puddle of goop, her breasts had melted off, and the bloody mess covering her face was a fair testament to her scratching the exposed nerves there. Her nails could be claws, her own suffering would be her greatest struggle as she tried desperately not to destroy herself. In the end, it was as he expected.
Her vocals grew raw, deeper. Just as they should have been when he’d created her from his own flesh, so long ago- a crime for which she’d never been forgiven. But now was the time to make amends, with this action she would be redeemed in his eyes.

Her body lay naked, covered by the tattered shreds of the form-fitting Kimono she’d once called her own. The eyes, like two bloody jewels in her face, had taken on a harder cast. The hair, once lustrous and fraught with many pins, was thick and loose. A delicate jaw had become strong and unyielding. A woman’s garb would no longer fit this one, and with a slight chuckle, he acknowledged that all was as it should be.
He saw down, closed his eyes and began to concentrate. It was time.
His consciousness turned inward, and traveled somewhere forbidden. A dangerous practice, but a necessary risk, with an escapable punishment should he fail in his task. His mind weaved through the fabric of the realities, around physical, shadow and spiritual. The realm of dreams was the place he sought, and the doors and safeguards that should have barred him were as nothing before his formidable willpower. It took only one word for him to find the prey.

“Inuyasha.” He tightened his grip on the young warrior, his demonic presence consuming every piece of the pleasant mental images. The beauty of a nightmare was that nothing need be done. Symbolism could run its course, nightfall to men, who flourished in the light of day. The mind would breed horrors that were not there, that seemed all too real. But sometimes, just sometimes, those horrors had a foundation in life.
Naraku watched him suffer, waiting for the moment he at last awoke to discover what had truly happened. Thus could great men be brought from brilliant flare to pitiful ash.
Shadows swam around him, laughing and pointing at something they ridiculed with abandon, at nothing in particular. When a broken mind heard laughter, there were blows that may not truly have been directed. Perhaps the most arduous torture of all was one the mind could not endure. The frailties and weaknesses of a woman not exposed to the world.
Sobbing, Inuyasha at last began to change, having seen countless times as his love Kagome was murdered before his eyes, and he the one responsible. Naraku suppressed a laugh.
And then he opened his eyes. For now the prey had awoken.

Inuyasha had indeed awoken, opening his eyes to greet the troubled denial howling from his throat with the fervor of a divine wind. His breathing seemed faster than the deadly rush of combat, his eyes frantically darting from place to place. They sought Kagome, found her curled in her bedroll, safe. His relief was visible, but barely comforting. With one good thing came another ill tiding. Reflexively he had gripped his chest in order to find his heartbeat; they came away more bewildered than anything.
He mouthed a silent scream, seeing that his dreams were not so unreal after all. His first reaction was instinctive, he struck the tree in his rage, scarring his palm yet utterly shattering the hapless thing.
Kilala mewled in protest, incredibly it was only Sango who awoke, bolting upright with a weapon in hand. By the time she arrived at the source of the disturbance, there lay a tree stump surrounded by the shards of its former self, and an angry cat-demon. A scream spurred her into further motion, she mounted her companion and kicked her into motion, following the sound. Nothing occurred to her still dazed mind that suggested anything was out of the ordinary. Her only concern was helping the woman in trouble.

Mile by mile they leapt across the land, playing a parody on the grand orchestra of life. Inuyasha knew of what was pursuing him, even he couldn’t run faster than a smell. But if Sango knew…
She would be in doubt as to whether or not she should laugh. But there were other things on her mind, more important troubles than what should not be. Whatever held the woman captive was fast; impressive even by the standards of her half-demon companion. There were no travelers nearby when they’d made camp. But that meant only one thing to her frantic mind. The captive could be Kagome!
And She had forgotten to wake the others!
“No time for doubt, Sango,” she admonished herself. “Kilala, go quickly!”
Their response was even more imperative now, any captured human was as good as food for the worms by now. Especially according to whatever unspoken codes Demons seemed to have. Kilala dug back on her haunches and leapt with astonishing agility. The world blurred passed in messy, kaleidoscopic colors. The dust cloud in their wake grew until it nearly met proportions equal to the demon ahead; a pair of ugly serpents chasing their tails.

They were closing on it now, breaking through the laughably obvious trail it left. It was time to end this little chase. She wasn’t going to give it the chance to hurt Kagome. “Kilala, pin it to the ground.”
Her curt snarl was testament enough to her anger. She wouldn’t let anyone- demon or mortal -hurt her loved ones again.
She bit back her discomforting groan as her stomach shifted, hanging on tightly to her fire cat’s mane. She hugged tightly, burrowing into the flower-scented fur. With a delicate, if jarringly soft impact, they ended their graceful assault. “Feel the full weight of your crime, beast.” She leaned forward to get a better view, sitting up and holding herself aloft with her thighs.
It was still wreathed in a dust cloud, each successive impact having tossed up a formidable brown pain to the eyes. Two functions were served, and her watering eyes tried desperately to remedy that. They did, only not in the manner she had been expecting. The last thing she was a harsh red claw before something started attacking her. The damned thing had thrown dirt in her face.
She pried her eyes open, pulling back on Kilala’s mane. Responsive as always, the mighty feline hopped back, standing on two legs with her claws unsheathed. The roar was of such fury it deafened her ears. She could no longer hear, but she did not need to. Her vision gave her all the information she needed.
The dust began to clear, showing her for the first time how despicable her foe truly was. She understood immediately, she was no fool. She had been the only one two awaken at the sound, the shattered tree should have at least alerted Inuyasha that something was amiss. The chase would already be over. He was likely drowned in the lake by now. The demon had killed him in his sleep and taken Kagome.
But it hadn’t counter on her being there. That was the last mistake it would make before she mounted its head on a spear. It had even gone so far as to wear the clothing of her friend after slaying him. Such a dishonor was unforgivable.
“Kilala!” Her face twisted into a savage mockery of calm, a snarling tiger. “Attack!” She had forgotten her customary weapon and so focused on what never left her side, an exquisitely made Katana, which she admittedly used far too little. Its mirror surface reflected the surrounding arena, a place one of the two combatants would never leave again. “Its your lucky day, demon.” She taunted her foe. “You get to test just how sharp this thing is.”

“No Sango. Stop.” The demon’s voice was calm. It was womanly, but just as a demon’s voice should be. Their trademark was the ability to remain calm, perfectly composed and focused no matter what the circumstance. Even to their deathbeds. “It isn’t what you think.”
“Your tricks won’t fool me.” Sango spoke easily with concentration, and conviction. Kilala snarled and closed the small distance between them with a bound. Sango tightened her grip on the sword and pulled her weight behind the blow, turning her entire body so she wouldn’t be relying on strength alone for the desired effect. Nothing should be able to move away, in this arena, with this mind; the hand would be quicker than the eye.
The battle would be over before the demon knew what hit it. With a gruesome tear, a defeated groan, the demon swayed on its feet. It knew that it was about to die.

Still, the demon caught its balance; calmly lifting its arm. The jagged tear split apart and bared smooth, light skin. The severed red sleeve fell gently to the ground, a red cherry blossom petal. Disbelief crowned her features, slowly overcoming her sense of anger. Only the most capable of fighters could avoid her lightning fast cuts; she herself was among the best in the land. It was less pride, more professional judgment. Evading such a strike without a weapon-
Unless the demon had known what she would do, was analyzing her every move, even under that deep red hood. She forced her features into a stone block, revealing nothing. This one was more a threat than she had realized.
“Focus, Sango.” She whispered to herself. “The body can be divided into less than six key zones, all spit down the center. It looks human enough.”
She thanked the dexterous movements of her mount for saving her life. She had frozen up. A mistake she would not make again. She adjusted her grip on her sword, and swept it down, parallel to the soil. After pulling back, Kilala lunged in again and she struck, using both their motions to fuel this cut.
This time, the demon was ready. She stepped back and to the side with an equally impressive lunge, only on the retreat. Well out of the range of Sango’s efficient blade. Such a retreat could be used on an opponent who was about to stop. A measure of maintaining reaction distance. But Sango and her companion did not stop. Kilala growled again, turning on her flank.
She snapped at where she expected the counterattack to be, but found only air. She recovered instantly, adjusting her angle of attack and launching her body like a spring, straight and flexible. The second bite was far more accurate, rending and tearing until her razor teeth came away red.
The demon staggered again, raising her arm in defense as Sango’s sword screamed in again. The Slayer encountered no resistance, and silently cursed herself, leveling the sword for another blow. Having evaded Sango’s last cut, the demon’s still upraised arm revealed the true extent of her wounds.

Another, decidedly more rough tear in the other sleeve.
“Damn you, Sango,” Her fists clenched, reinforcing her angry shout. “This is my best Kimono.” Another quick slice quieted her whining. For a few seconds. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“You won’t break my concentration, you filthy beast.” She told her levelly. “Where did you discover my name? Have you read my journal?”
“What?” She might have believed the woman sounding so surprised, if she hadn’t already known is clever tongue. “Sango its-
Kilala swift forepaw sent her reeling. Stunned, the demon started to speak, shaking off some of her disorientation all the while. “Sango, its me-
Kilala was not one to relinquish an advantage easily, and Sango did not disagree with her. This she-demon was as good as dead. The cat let out an angry yowl, swiping her claws horizontally in tandem with her mistress’ vertical Katana slice, both going for the killing blow. Both seeking to end the fight and see her friends avenged.
The demon was far from beaten.

She leapt up, crying out her own sort of collected rage that came out more ‘startled’ than anything. Her balance appeared to be off, as if she’d committed too fully. Nonetheless, Sango found herself in a dire situation. The demon’s quick reflexes had nipped her strike in the bud, and Kilala’s claw had missed completely. She tried to struggle away, but the hand gripping her wrist was too strong.

The demon pulled with staggering might, so she dug her heels into Kilala and did the same. If she lost, she would be dead. That fact along gave her the courage she needed, the motivation to give it all she had. After encountering an opposing force, the demon didn’t disengage as she expected her to; but merely allowed herself to be taken along, using Sango’s own foothold against her.
She landed behind her, astride Kilala. With an equally quick motion, the demon’s hands seized her waist and threw her off, the cat bucking wildly, turning herself around; snapping, clawing. The she-demon rolled free, away from the danger and draw back one wickedly clawed hand.
“Iron-reaver,” Sango’s eyes widened.

“Down!” Kilala ceased all struggle, falling limp, completely relaxed at her mistress’ word.
“soul-stealer!” The red-clothed demon glided smoothly over the prone feline, her strike overextended. She curled her hand into a fist and struck what Sango now saw was a nearby cliff.
Rubble sprayed everywhere, closely accompanied by a deep tremor. Laughter echoed down from above, cruel and confident. The voice of Naraku was difficult to miss, strong as it was. It would likely carry for some distance.
Crescents of wind gouged at the soil, barely missing the two combatants. Sango would have counted them lucky, but in her heart she knew there was something else at work here. The ensuing rumbles proved her thesis was more accurate than was prudent. Rocks rolled down the cliff, cracking and breaking off one another, building off each other.
Her ears deafened, the impacts had filled the air with fine sharpness, hard little rock shards the size of a pin head, gnawing at her exposed skin. She closed her eyes and curled up, overwhelmed. This was no honorable way to die, but she would die thinking of Kohaku; she would be with their family soon.

“Damn you, Sango get up.” Her voice, the demon’s voice; was calm despite the chaos. “We have to run, or we’ll be crushed.”
Startled, she opened her eyes, finding a strange sense with that fact. She had been in worse situations before. Being afraid wouldn’t help. She blinked, realizing she was riding on the back of the demon, with Kilala leading slightly, just beside.
“Who are you?” She stammered.
Her only answer was silence as they proceeded to move further away from the danger of the last trap Naraku had seen fit to set for them. After what seemed like an age, the demon finally skidded to a stop, dropping her without ceremony. She suppressed a groan and hit the pain of her rough impact with a determined scowl.
Out of breath, the demon glanced up at her, watching her every move from under that shadowy hood. Sango returned the favor, giving her one of the fiercest gazes she could muster. Their game persisted for a time, before the demon finally broke the stalemate with a gesture, brushing the hood off. Sango’s fractured awareness finally pieced itself back together again.

“Inuyasha?” She felt her jaw drop.

She pulled a shaking arm from her stomach, revealing the torn cloth, and the pale skin with an even deeper red. With a shocked smile and a nearly insane giggle, the Hanyou fell back. Sango immediately rushed to the side of her friend, weariness forgotten.
“You’re wounded. Stay still.”
She gauged the extent of the wound quickly. She’d had battlefield experience, it was easy; coming second nature to her perceptive mind. She almost immediately set about caring and dressing for it, offering Inuyasha a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. Were you hit anywhere else?”

Laughter. “First I’m a demon you’re trying to butcher, now you’re saving my life.” Inuyasha kept his- her, voice at a whisper. “Do you see the irony in that?”
“I thought Kagome was in trouble.” She couldn’t stop the incredulous expression on her face.
“No,” The Hanyou laughed again, and coughed a dry throat away. “Just me going through a late stage of puberty.”
She couldn’t help but smile back, just a little. “We need to find someplace safer. We can talk there.”