Pre-Note: The layout of this chapter is a little different, because the timeline is of weeks and not just a few days. It's also 10 pages long—my muse went crazy. Also, this is the last chapter of my spam!uploads. I will have a new chapter posted tomorrow, for your reading pleasure, and you can now expect updates to come weekly - On Thursdays.
Chapter Thirty-Three—What Must Be Done [Part Two]
Day 5 The haze over her mind was thick, but despite her diminished faculties, Kotono still recognized the scent of a family member; slowly, deliberately, she turned to face her brother's son. 'He looks nothing like Ryuu,' she thought, looking over his unruly head of auburn curls and large black eyes with no small amount of relief. Though she had found that his mother had died in childbirth, Kotono couldn't deny that he would, one day, make a fine lord to the people of the North. Despite being bereft of the essential nurturing that mother dragons bestowed upon their young, he had proven himself to be fair in her days here, as well as intelligent and honorable, and she hoped that he would one day put that intelligence to good use for the well-being of their people. She could only hope that he became nothing like his father. "Is there something you need, hatchling?" He took her question as invitation and stepped more fully into the rooms she had been allowed to dwell in for the duration of her stay. The shoji whispered behind him, and she forced herself not to flinch at the soft sound of it clicking in to place. "I'm going to get you out." It was an unexpected statement, and she made no move to hide the interest that slipped across her face. "Oh? Do tell." The boy—Isamu, his name was—settled comfortably across from her, kneeling on one cushion and drawing another into his lap in an absentminded motion. "The guards change shifts at midnight; I can delay the relief." "And then? He will know what you've done." A clawed hand reached up to spear through the copper-colored ringlets that curled around his ears. "I'm coming with you." Emotion welled, and for a long moment, her breath struggled to make it past the ball of gratitude and awe in her chest. She closed her eyes. Three days and two nights after her arrival, she had been told that she could not leave, that she was now a prisoner of war. Confined in her rooms—and they were her rooms, the very ones she'd inhabited as a girl—she'd had only the company of her brother and her nephew; company she despised and enjoyed, respectively. For all the sick desire he harbored for her, Ryuu had not touched her again, but he would never let her wallow in her misery, would never let her grieve over what he had taken from her—at least, not when he wasn't present to watch her do it. His visits lasted hours; hours in which she would sit rigidly and endure the oil-slick rumble of his voice, knowing what he had done, and knowing that she wouldn't—couldn't, according to Fate's whim—stop him if he tried again. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to murder him, and yet… And yet she did nothing, because it was not time, because there were things that had to happen first, things that had to come to pass before she could see the proof of his vile existence fade from his disgusting eyes. And so she waited. Waited, and got to know a nephew she hadn't thought she would meet. Isamu was, as his name implied, one of the most courageous young dragonlings she had ever met. Despite his father's influence, he had a strict code of honor that he never strayed from, and he empathized with her just enough to keep her from giving up on what was left of her family—if anything, he'd restored her beliefs in her bloodline; made her believe that there might be something worth saving of her brother's reign. Still, he was young—two years away from his two-hundredth birth day—and often acted rashly. More than once, he had lashed out at his father, had argued against the elder dragon's treatment of her, and had been beaten as a consequence. She had tended to him, treating him much like his mother would have if she'd been alive, but had scolded him all the same, trying her best to impress upon him the art of subtlety and discreetness. She had, she knew, become quite attached to him. However… "You cannot." When she opened her eyes again, he was scowling at her, dark brows drawn into an angry 'v' on his brow. "It is not time." A low, rumbling growl rolled from his chest. "I am not going to—" "Get yourself killed," she finished, gazing at him calmly despite the dangerous glower he leveled in her direction. "I cannot allow it." "Ryuu has taught me how to fight," he declared hotly, the scales clustered in the corners of his eyes spreading down to his cheekbones as his temper heightened. Though she had stopped being surprised at (and was secretly quite proud of) the disrespect he felt for his father—she herself hadn't held any respect for the monster for centuries— she expected a certain amount of decorum when they were likely being listened to, and cocked one brow in warning. "Control yourself, hatchling." Isamu visibly forced himself to calm, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it in a slow stream of air. The cushion in his lap—the one Ryuu had taken during his last visit and was now covered in Isamu's spicy scent—was placed back on the tatami, and Isamu fixed her with a glittering gaze. "What can I do, then, aunt? I can't let him—" But anger had seeped into his eyes, and he stopped, claws flexing on the tabletop. "You can do nothing," she responded softly, and just as he opened his mouth to argue, she lifted a hand and drew a set of characters into the air. Play along, hatchling, they read, and Isamu's entire demeanor changed; he sat just a little straighter, and his black eyes shone with intrigue. And as he began, in a very convincing voice, to tell her exactly what he thought he could do, she wrote out a plan.
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Day 8 "Nothing will happen until spring." If Chiyoko meant to sound reassuring, Kagome hoped that her glare told the demoness otherwise, and without a word, the miko turned her attention back to the Go board between them. Propping an elbow on her thigh and dropping her chin into her palm, she placed her stone, and while Chiyoko observed the board, her mind wandered. On multiple occasions, she had tried to talk to Lord Sesshomaru, to ask why Kotono wasn't back yet, but each time, he gave her a blank look, murmured that the dragoness would come back when it was time, and then lapsed into silence. She hated the silence. 'But he's hurting,' a soft voice would admonish, sympathy and understanding turning it into a croon that sounded much too much like the sound Kotono made to soothe her. And he was hurting, she knew that. Perhaps that was why she had stopped asking three days ago; perhaps that was why, when he would do nothing but stare out of the window of his archives, she would gather her courage and settle herself on his lap, kissing at his jaw and threading her fingers through his hair until he took her desperately, her back pressed against the chilled glass and his breath panting hotly at her throat. She didn't know if he would ever acknowledge those moments of passion for what they were—attempts to forget that they were both guilty for what had happened. She didn't know if she wanted him to. Deftly, Chiyoko plucked five of her pieces from the board, and frustrated on a level she didn't understand, Kagome shook her head. "I don't want to play anymore." The lady lifted a slim brow. "I was not aware that you were so easily beaten, Higurashi." Kagome tsked, and Chiyoko made a noncommittal sound deep in her throat, gaze piercing. "Surely you have not allowed Naraku's missive to distract you so easily? I told you; nothing will happen until spring, when Ryuu and his dragons are less affected by the weather." Angrily, Kagome shoved a hand through her bangs, pressing them off of her forehead and trying not to huff at them when they fell stubbornly back into place. "No, but I—" She scowled at the wall over Chiyoko's head. "I knew she shouldn't have gone; I should have—" "You did what you were meant to do," the aloof demoness interrupted, her cool voice at odds with the intensity in her gaze. "Kotono knew what was going to happen; it was time for it to happen, and you played your part, as expected." "But why?" Kagome pushed to her feet, pacing with frustration and anger and worry pulsing through her with each heartbeat. "Why did it have to be her? She's done everything she was supposed to do, even when she didn't want to do it! It isn't fair!" "There are few things in life that are meant to be fair, Higurashi," Chiyoko shot back, irritation laying thickly over the usual cool tones of her voice. "And I can assure you—Kotono knew what was going to happen." Kagome's breath caught, and she narrowed her eyes, Chiyoko's tone jarring at her emotions as though the youkai had rung a particularly unpleasant bell. "You did too," she whispered, realization and horror welling in her chest until she thought her lungs would give. Her fists clenched. "Why didn't you stop her?" And anger—true anger—flashed in Chiyoko's eyes, and she was up and standing so closely that Kagome could feel the heat of her body before the miko had even realized she'd moved. "I tried," the demoness hissed, all pretense of nonchalance burned away. "And I failed. There was nothing that would have changed her mind. Nothing!" The red-tinged amber of her eyes swirled and blurred with the pale color of her face, and Kagome ducked her chin into her chest just before the first tear fell. She tried to stop, but the nuances of pain in Chiyoko's voice kept echoing in her mind, and by the time she realized that she wasn't going to be able to keep the tears at bay, she had crumpled to the floor and pressed her hands to her face. For a moment, there were no sounds in the large room except for the heavy rise and fall of Chiyoko's breathing and the grating rasp of Kagome's sobs—and then there was a rustle of silk, and Kagome looked up, shocked, when Chiyoko touched her hair. Through her tears, she recognized her own sorrow reflected back at her; the same guilt, the same sadness, the same wish for things to have been different. Unable to do anything else, she accepted the gentle embrace as she was pulled into it, looping her arms around Chiyoko's slim waist. And when she felt the first few tears began to wet her hair, she only held tighter.
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Day 10 Kotono watched in amusement as her nephew glared distrustfully at the handsome hanyou across from them, and then turned an even more distrustful glare on the silver-haired hanyou beside him. "How do we know that they're telling the truth?" Isamu finally asked, keeping his voice low. "Keh. The hell reason would I have to lie to you, runt?" "Inuyasha," Kotono warned, holding back a smirk as her easily-riled nephew bristled at the gruff tone. "Isamu, a lock of your hair, please." Grumbling, the youkai reached up and plucked a curled tendril of hair from his head, passing it to Inuyasha's outstretched hand. "Is that all you require, Lord Naraku?" The golem of Naraku gave a swift, decisive nod. "Thank you, Lady Kotono. If all goes well, you shall be home soon." Kotono smiled, but knew that the expression was strained. "I truly hope so." Turning to Inuyasha, she inclined her head. "I must thank you for this, Inuyasha; I know you are not fond of your half-brother." The hanyou's lips twisted. "Yeah, and I ain't doin' it for that bastard anyway." His cheeks flushed, and he looked away. "'Gome woulda wanted me to." With a smile that was much closer to genuine happiness than her previous one, Kotono nodded, knowing that the friendship the miko and hanyou had developed had been quick to grow and would be slow to fade, if it ever did. "And I'm sure she will thank you," she murmured, amused as the pink spots on his cheeks deepened to red. She turned back to the false Naraku. "Tell Sesshomaru to look after her," she said, and though it sounded far too much like the plea it was, Naraku's smile was soft and understanding. "As you wish." When they left on Kagura's feather—the wind youkai gave her a grave nod as she collected her companions—Kotono waved to Isamu, dismissing him despite his protests, and after he had gone, she closed the shoji that led to her balcony and curled on her futon, safe in the knowledge that her brother would not be back for a day or two more, affairs of the state having calling him out of their ancestral home. She did not rest, but rather kept her mind off of other things by remembering Kagome's laugh and Sesshomaru's eyes; the miko's warmth and the inu's rare affections. She refused to cry.
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Day 12 Combing his claws carefully though the miko's sweat-damp hair, Sesshomaru watched her sleep with something dangerously close to sorrow constricting itself around his lungs. Why was it, when his life had finally settled into something he could appreciate, that the Fates had decided to be so cruel? He was the first who would admit to himself that he would never understand how the gods worked, but right now, at this moment, he would have liked to know. He would have liked to know why a creature as innocent as the one spread out next to him could be allowed to fall asleep with her lashes spiked with tears. He would have liked to know why a youkai as strong-willed as Kotono had to suffer such injustice at the hands of her own family. He would have liked to know why she hadn't told him about the blemish on her bloodline. In her sleep, the miko whimpered, and he realized that he had stopped stroking her hair; immediately, he began anew, and the frown that had begun to twist her lips relaxed and faded away. For a moment, he allowed himself to marvel at the comfort she gained from him, and wondered—not for the first time—how she had come to care for a youkai as cold as he. Sesshomaru was no fool; he was well aware of his shortcomings, of his frigid personality and domineering persona. He knew that he was intimidating, calculating; that he spurned pursuits he thought foolish and that he would sooner kill a man than listen to his plea. 'And still, she…cares.' She had not told him as much, but words meant little to him, and it was her actions that conveyed the depth of her feelings. It was the way she smiled at him, bright and honest; the way she allowed him to take of her body in any way he pleased; the way she curled, now, closer to his chest as his fingers grazed the curve of her shoulder. And recently, her caring had been in the silence she granted him, in the soft way she kissed his jaw and gripped his hair and gave of herself to distract his mind from contemplating the myriad of unmentionable ways he was going to make Ryuu hurt. The miko shifted once again, a light frown marring her features despite the fingers he shifted through her bangs. The scent of salt swirled up to his nose, and though he had anticipated the fresh tears she would shed upon her waking, he still felt his beast stir in unadulterated rage. That Ryuu had destroyed his dragoness and broken his miko in the process was unacceptable—the disgusting lizard would pay dearly for his transgressions. "Please, Sesshomaru-sama," Kagome whispered, her voice a mere waft of breath against the skin of his chest and her fingers a light caress of obvious invitation across his hip. "Please…" He could not deny her, and lowered his head, nuzzling at the curve of her shoulder and then the swell of her breast as she sobbed and arched into his touch. Silently, he rolled until she was pinned beneath him, and despite the red, tear-streaked mess of her face, he felt his manhood stirring to life, appreciation for the softness of her skin melding with the desire of making her overlook her tears. She reached for him, lips trembling, and he kissed her until she stopped crying, kissed her until it was arousal and not sadness that hitched her breath. And for a handful of minutes, he made her forget. For a handful of minutes, he drove every thought but those of him from her mind, holding her close to his chest and digging into her with fierce, jaw-clacking thrusts that made her cry out each time he forced her over the edge of sensation. And only when he was through with her, when he had at last spent himself into her pulsating sheath and drew her carefully against his side, did the tears come again. He gathered her close, and promised to make Ryuu pay.
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Day 13 The time was drawing near, and as a decoy Isamu—created, controlled and fueled by a mixture of Naraku's and Isamu's youki—began to integrate himself into castle life, the real Isamu hid in the forests, masking his scent and his aura as his father had taught him to do when he was just a boy. Out of all the things he was glad to have learned, this technique was now his favorite. As he huddled in a small cave many miles from what he had once called home, he wondered about this miko that his aunt had told stories of—and wondered if she was as compassionate and as accepting as Kotono made her to be. 'If she is…then maybe she can help…I hope she can help.' Because every day, he knew, Kotono was losing more and more of what made her, her. There was less light in her eyes, less emotion in her voice. She was breaking, and Isamu prayed that Kagome could fix her.
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Day 14 Mei was pregnant, and it was with true joy that, after so many days of worrying, Kagome laughed and gathered the shyly smiling inuyoukai into a tight hug. "Oh, I'm so happy for you," she whispered into the pointed ear near her mouth before pulling away and gracing Mei with the happiest smile anyone had seen from her in two weeks. And despite Kotono's absence, the day was a good one.
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Day 20 Early in the morning, nearly before Kagome had broken her fast, Lord Naraku came at the behest of Lord Sesshomaru. He gave her a wide smile when she met him in the courtyard, and for the few minutes it took to walk him to where Lord Sesshomaru waited, she learned one very important thing: Kotono was coming home.
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Day 20 When Kotono caught sight of a familiar head of curly auburn hair, relief unlike anything she had ever known filled her heart near to bursting. She embraced him when he saw her, uncaring of Inuyasha's gruff demands to hurry the hell up, and when she pulled back to look at him, she saw the same relief echoed in his own eyes. She sighed, shook off any and all emotion, and slipped into a role she had not had to adopt for over three centuries. "By now," she murmured, catching the attention of her two companions, "he knows. We will have to fight." And Inuyasha grinned a wicked grin, knuckles cracking like a whip in the cold air. For once, he and Isamu agreed on a course of action, and as they turned back to head off the first wave of soldiers that were sure to follow them, Kotono allowed her body to shift and took to the skies, savagely roaring her triumph—and her challenge—loud enough for Ryuu to hear.
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Day 22 Kagome felt, somehow, hopeful when she received a letter from Lord Naraku, and as she nestled in Sesshomaru's lap, their shared scroll forgotten on the floor in front of them, she read two words that made her heart patter ferociously in her chest. Three days.
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Day 23 The gash in his side wouldn't stop bleeding until it was tended to, and with a frustrated growl, Isamu dropped out of the sky, partially shifting back to his humanoid form mid-fall and slowing his descent with powerful beats of his wings. When he landed, a battered Inuyasha was skidding to a stop in the snow, and Kotono, her own wounds bleeding just as heavily as his, was plummeting through the trees at a frightening speed. She landed, gently, on her feet, the snow beneath her bare toes hardly stirring—Isamu made a mental note to ask how she'd done it, crouching in the quickly melting snow at his feet. "Move your hand." Obediently, he dropped his palm, and Kotono made a sound in her throat, eyes fierce in the mostly-scaled planes of her face. She flashed a glance at him, and then shook out one hand and pointed a hotly glowing claw at his side. "This will hurt." And then there was intense, burning pain, and Isamu shoved a fist between his teeth to muffle his scream. When she finished, the bleeding had stopped, but the injury would still need to be tended to by a professional healer; at any rate, they couldn't linger, not when they were finally so close to making it out of the Northern Lands. Silently, Kotono gave herself the same treatment, cauterizing the deep cut in her right upper arm and the even deeper gash across her belly with her face set in the stony mask she had adopted days ago. And if he had learned nothing else about his aunt in the weeks he had known her, he now knew that to be on the wrong end of her claws was a death sentence of the fiercest kind. "They're comin'," Inuyasha announced quietly, eyes and ears trained on some distant point. Isamu nodded, trusting the hanyou's judgment; as his and Kotono's senses had dulled in the cold, and only the strongest pulses of youki and the thickest fall of blood would catch their attention, Inuyasha's nose and ears were all they had to go by. With a nod, the two dragons leapt into the air, transformed with controlled bursts of youki, and sped off toward the West, their hanyou escort tearing through the trees below them. Isamu lost consciousness the next day, and Inuyasha slew three of their pursuers in retribution. Late that same night, Aoi, Rin and Miroku met them as they rounded through the Eastern Lands, were granted temporary asylum by the Eastern Lord, and learned that Isamu had exhausted himself past the point of help—he would have to awaken on his own. When they set out the next morning, Aoi coolly reported that the rest of Ryuu's contingent had been killed at the Eastern Border. Inuyasha had never been more grateful for the exotic cat.
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Day 25 It was bitterly cold and surprisingly windy, winter's first snow having covered the ground with a thick white blanket. Tugging her fur-lined coat tighter about her shoulders, Kagome stood silently beside Lord Sesshomaru, squinting at the pre-dawn sky and straining her senses for any inkling of Kotono's youki. The sun had come up long before she felt the first nuances of it, and she pinpointed it nearly at the same time that Inuyasha came barreling through the front gates, a robed monk and two very familiar and much-missed faces entering after him. Though Kagome breathed their names, a stronger pulse of Kotono's aura forced her eyes to the sky once more, and while servants attended to an unconscious, curly-haired youkai that Inuyasha set carefully on the cobblestones, Kagome finally saw the sight she had wanted to see for weeks. "Kotono!" She didn't care that the dragoness probably couldn't hear her, didn't care that she would lose her voice if she kept screaming—over and over again, she called out, and uncaring of the snow or the cold, she pulled her kimono and her coat up away from her ankles, kicked her geta off to the side, and ran. And Kotono, stumbling to the ground as a dragon and staggering forward as a battered humanoid figure, opened her bleeding arms and drew the weeping miko close to her chest.
Author's Note: Review?
This is most definitely my favorite chapter to date, and if you all like the format, please let me know, because I've been thinking of writing an entire story formatted exactly like this, and I'd like to know if you all would enjoy it. Oh and once again, in case you skipped my pre-note, this chapter completes my quick-update dash. I will post a new chapter tomorrow, and then updates will come weekly, schedule permitting. Thanks for reading!
~Aubrey
