Legends In The Dark by WritingMage

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and the legends aren't either. However, the plot and character interpretation is.

A flash of white somewhere amongst the cherry trees caught her eye and it entices her. Nonetheless, Kagome is already stepping off of the paved walkway and onto the pliant dirt. Following the fleeting hints of white feathers, Kagome began wandering deeper through the cherry blossoms.

Standing regally in the moisture of a small pond that sat in the valley of two tall hills, the object of her curiosity was what she had thought all along. The heron stood tall, watching her.

Quietly, with as much care as she could muster, Kagome edges closer. One more step. A little more. That last step was all she thought she needed as she readied her phone, aiming to get the perfect photo of that pretty bird.

Peering intently at the bird on her screen, the shot wasn’t quite right and so, biting her lip she inched forward just a bit more. A small and harmless gust of wind blew across the glade.

Her foot slips.

She screams.

The heron flies.

The ground collapses.

And she rolls.

And for a moment, her thoughts fled and she slipped in between consciousness and dreams. Through the haze clouding her vision, she sees a face peer down at her. ' You’ll be alright, Kagome ,' she hears them say.

“Hello?”

WIth an ache in the abused portions of her body, Kagome squints into the darkness, but all she can make out are vague shadows and the whisper of silence. All she hears is the steady beat of her heart against her ribcage like the constant staccato of bird wings. Blinking the dust from her face, Kagome lifts herself up from the ground. Her hands pat against the earth blindly, and when she finally finds her purse, the stiff tension leaves her and she's nearly boneless in relief.

Shaky hands explore the soft depths of her purse and she can't locate the object of her search. Her phone isn’t there. The blind desperation takes over and she search the contents of her purse and her person until Kagome feels the sharp pinch of broken glass against her hand as she scrounges on the ground. With a sigh of  elation she held her phone up and noticed the shattered screen. Even Kagome can recognize that is was  cracked beyond repair.

How will she call for help? Without her phone, who can she call? No one is around to hear her.

Maybe she can find a way out. . .

Sighing, Kagome looks up to the small patch of blue that she can still see.

The best case scenario is that someone might find her within the next day, but that is an impossibly slim chance.

“Senile, old man,“ she grumps, plopping onto the patch of dirt taking a moment to wince at the soreness of her bruise-mottled legs. “I’d be nice and happy and aboveground if it weren’t for you.”

And really, it is all Grandfather’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted that Kagome “reconnect” with her ancestors and come to “value” her heritage and the rich history of not only the shrine, but also the rich history of her ancestors, then she wouldn’t have gone for a romp through the ancient Higurashi Shrine that was now an antique museum with sprawling grounds that had been donated by generous benefactors throughout successive generations. And more to the point, she wouldn’t have been walking through the orchards only to fall through the ground.

But, Kagome contents herself, at least she has a good six hours or so before the day becomes night. Hopefully, she will get out before then.

Dusting off the dirt from her pants and looking up, Kagome judges the height of the gaping hole. She took note of the exposed roots of a nearby tree. “It’s only a good eight feet or so, not too much bigger than what I jump during track.” With a nod to herself she began walking back into the shadowy darkness until she reached the wall of the small cavern she fell in. Kagome slowly counts to herself.

"One."

“Two."

“Three.”

Her muscles tense and contract as she makes crossed the tight space. Adrenaline pumps through her veins. She feels it in the heady excitement of invincibility as she jumps. With an arm stretched high, she saw the distance between the lip of the hole and the tips of her fingers grow near, when, just for a second, it looked as if the land shifted and the gap widened.

Abruptly, Kagome crashes back into the dirt, not having been able to even touch a ledge of ground. As she landed on her feet, her ankle rolled from under her, and the rest of her body dropped to immediately take the pressure from her injured leg. There was a pounding pain and she sat up quickly, careful not to bump the sprained joint. Taking note of the throbbing pain she struggled to push it to the wayside. She had to get out of here.

Kagome quickly looked up where she sat and shook her head, baffled. She must be going crazy. She must have hit her head a bit harder than she originally thought. She gave the gap a second look and shook her head again.

“So much for being a track star,” she mutters, wiping her hand across her forehead. But her hand is wet. Pulling it back, she inspects it only to see a slight gash running across her palm, bleeding exiguously and dripping small drops of blood onto the moist earth beneath her feet.

“Damn.”

' You should take better care of yourself, Kagome-chan ,' Kagome can hear her mother’s voice in the emptiness.

Shaking off the pain and mild stiffness of her muscles, Kagome righted herself, ripping off a piece of her shirt and tying it to her exposed wound. The bleeding had already stopped.

It takes another ten tries before she actually catches the ledge and an exposed root  and manages to pull herself up from the darkened hole. Purse slung across her chest, Kagome tumbles through the cherry blossoms, trying to find the stone path she veered from. She was certain she was going into the right direction.

As she falters and stumbles on her sprained ankle, she breathes in heavily, reveling in the remainder of the sunlight and the fresh air crisp with promise. Kagome is glad that her small adventure through the Higurashi Shrine is nearing an end.

Fervent, freed and filthy, Kagome limps along the uneven path and enjoys the gentle scenery. Around her, ancient trees snarl together into skyscrapers that commemorate and stand as testament to thousands of years of history. Deeper in the forest surrounding the shrine, the brush thickens into verdant forest. The stillness of the morning is accentuated by soft bird calls that meld seamlessly together.

She had forgotten the beautiful peace of the shrine grounds, forgotten the cool dampness found beneath the trees’ shade, forgotten the tinge of salt that the sea wind brought. ‘It has been too long,’ Kagome thinks for a moment, ‘only a year short of a decade.’  

The last time she had visited the Higurashi Shrine Museum, she was eight. Her grandfather had insisted Kagome not come back the following summer after her father’s death, and her mother had easily complied. Whenever they visited the Higurashi Shrine, Kagome suffered night terrors and would sleep walk and wake deep within the forest.

Kagome’s eyebrows dip together into a frown. She remembers the last summer she had stayed over at the shrine. Her night terrors had worsened and everybody had been tense with worry and stress. Not only was Kagome getting worse, but her mother had been in the last trimester of her pregnancy with Souta, Kagome’s younger brother. The stress had been a bit much.

So lost in thought was she that she never noticed the thickness of the trees around her. She had entered the deepest depths of the forest. It wasn’t the right direction, she was certain of that now. She left the inner recesses of her mind and took stock of her location when a thick sound reached her ears and she wasn’t ready. Ready for her body to rush and run.

She is running, running through the shadows of the forest, and behind her there is a predator in white, a wolf or something more terrifying. Instinctually, she knows to run, to run and never stop. She knows undoubtedly that the thing behind her is out for her blood.

Kagome runs until the adrenalin pumping through her veins faded and her head throbbed. The heavy thrumming of her heart was loud in her ears. She slows and stops to lean against a nearby tree before she slid down to the ground, all was quiet. She sat there hidden beneath the brush hoping it will not find her.

The fear of the unknown being that was chasing her magnified the thundering of her heart, overshadowing any sound that may have been heard from the inaudible steps of the creature.

Fear gripped her and tensed her muscles, locking them in place. It froze her vocal cords, stifling her desire to scream. Every erent thought, every  visualization of what could happen to her made her heart beat faster and louder. She knew if she made a sound it would find her. She had to slow her breathing and her heart,s he had to calm down. She would -- She would be caught. Perhaps taken away forever. Perhaps eaten or killed. She would never see her family ag--She felt its presence over her.

“Oh, how sweet you are, little crow,” the creature croons down to her. Razor sharp talons caress the soft of her cheek. She tries to move away from the path of those deadly talons, a whimper escaped her lips. Unbeknownst to her, the creature’s eyes held a victorious and feral gleam, taking in every last visage of her.

“To gift me such a merry chase. . . How good to me, you are, pet.” Its icy breath caused a permeating chill against the back of her neck and gooseflesh to rise all along her body.

“ Now , I shall claim my prize.” There was such a victorious and ravenous quality to those words.  The razor edge of fangs pricked her neck with just the slightest bit of pressure at first, and then, a flash of pain and chaos abound as she and the creature were drenched red with her blood as it tore through the fine sinew of muscle.

The tension and fear were more than she could take and her vocal cords loosened, Kagome screamed for every second those fangs pierced her neck and drowned in the crimson sight and coppery smell of her blood. her breath was---

“Kagome! Kagome.” Hands noose around her body, and Kagome thrashes wildly. She does not want her soul to be eaten.

“Kagome!”

Harder, harder, harder - she fights! If she bites and thrashes wildly enough, she will live. If she fights hard enough her life is hers!

“KAGOME!” Then her blue eyes open, and she sees her father.

“Kagome,” he says again, and this time, she doesn’t thrash against him. Rather she launches herself into his arms, clinging for dear life as tears and terror-driven hiccups assault her senses and the fear and adrenalin leave her body.

The two of them sat out there for hours. Her father pets her hair and calming her until she is done crying and falling asleep against him. He carries Kagome back to the shrine grounds, drawing her a bath and then tucked into bed where he promises her that she will be fine. She falls asleep to the sound of him crooning her old lullaby. At some point in the night, she awakens to hear harsh whispers in the dark. Crawling from the warmth and comfort of her bed, she follows the voices and peers around the corner into the kitchen.

“You have done this! You- with your crazy superstitions and myths!”

“No, son, the girl is merely sensitive to the spirit realm. She can feel-“

“Enough, Father!,” the last word is spat with anger and disdain, “Kagome is reacting to this trash about your lores and lies that you put into her head! You have harmed her, and now, she believes the sh-“

There is a resounding slap that echoes in the hallway, and Kagome is a statue, straining to hear this grown-up talk.

“Do not speak of things you do not know, boy. I am your elder.”

Her father’s voice is quiet, so quiet that the words almost slurred into vague sounds. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we won’t be coming back to this place. If you want to know your grandchildren, change your ways. You may visit us in our home, but never bring your tales with you. We reside in Tokyo.”

They will never come to the Higurashi Shrine again.

It’s all her fault.

She’s the one who made it happen, because she’s too much of a baby to know that monsters aren’t real.

Kagome blinks. She’s remembering all the things that she had so easily let go and so easily forgot. Maybe it’s the scenery, this forest had once been her playground after all. Kagome shakes her head and continues limping along.

Eventually, her trek comes to an end and she finds herself back to the shrine’s back entrance. Digging through her bag she finds the keys to the Main House and enters in through the back door. Hopefully the landline will  and she’ll be able to call someone, maybe a taxi or maybe her mother.

Stepping inside the museum, Kagome can already feel her old memories unraveling, unbidden snapshots of her childhood: running through the shrine grounds on late Sunday evenings, her grandfather’s stories, the fresh sharp smell of mint through the hallway, all the games she would play amongst the glass and books and scrolls that detailed much of the history of mortal and demonic Nihon and Japan.

Still filthy, Kagome feels the acute itch of the dirt and caked mud pasted across her skin, and she knows the phone call can wait after a much deserved -- she took a quick sniff of her shirt -- and needed, rinse off and then bath.

The hot springs, Kagome remembers suddenly. They were to the back end of the shrine  bordering the forest and closed off by a natural wall of stone.

Walking through the bright halls, Kagome feels a strange sense of elation. This day will soon be over, and on the best note possible, with a dip in the hot springs! She rushed to her room and gathered her things. Coming to the showers to rinse off the worst of the mud and other bits of forest from her skin and hair she sighed as she stepped out.

Carefully, Kagome folds away all her clothing before setting it to the farthest edge before entering to soak in the hot water. Gently, the water dances over her skin in sweeping caresses, and Kagome enjoys herself thoroughly. Like the water, faint whispers of memories also dance over her, small flits and broken pieces.

Her grandfather’s gift, a single string of beads. “ Never take this off, Kagome .” he says.

When she finally tears herself away from both the clinging memories and the clinging water, the sun has begun to descend below the horizon. Kagome only has a few more hours of sunlight. She goes up to finger the string of beads she remembered wearing when she was a child. She felt nothing there, her neck was bare save a streak of dirt from when she tried to climb out of that blasted hole.

Her hair is plastered to her back as she dries herself, but Kagome hears the bathhouse’s door creak open. Turning with a rush of alertness, Kagome looks at the now-open door and squints. Who could it be? No one was supposed to be at the museum today.

Kagome’s panic is suddenly soothed as she remembers the sheer age of the shrine. Even when she’d only been a young girl, the doors and floors would creak, and old wood doors would open if they didn’t have a proper latch, like the one in the bathhouse.  

“ Spirits love to wander, Kagome .” The faint reminder from her grandfather rushed through her mind.

Settled, Kagome turns from the door to pick up her clothing and heads back to the shrine passing through halls full of exhibits. One hall in particular gives her pause.

Inside it, a glass case that extends along the whole right wall. There is an assortment of claws and old (“ antique, Kagome ”, her mother always insists) Japanese paintings of fearsome yokai and of conquering priests and priestesses. Just as Kagome turns to find the telephone, a glimmer of white catches her eye. Turning to give it her full attention to the glimmer, she saw it was an Inugami mask. Her lips quirk, and Kagome remembers the frequent chats with her grandfather about the myths, specifically the one concerning this mask.

“This mask is vessel that houses a very fearsome spirit, Kagome,” he always began, “Very fearsome. And it was recruited to guard the shrine . . ."

Kagome remembers that she used to hang on to every word he ever said, but of course, Kagome thinks to herself as she smooths her pale hand over the glass, of course a child would. Children always love to extend their imagination to somehow make the impossible a part of reality, and grandfathers love to tease children’s imaginations to new heights. And yet, nine years later, she still remembers every tale.

When she was six, Kagome believed in all her grandfather’s tales and legends and whispered stories of the Inugami who guarded the shrine for centuries and more recently her, even as she slept.

“Never fear, Kagome,” he would say, “The Inugami will not allow a mere monster to remain under your bed.”

But her father had set her straight and showed her that none of that existed. He showed her the truth.

Thank Kami, Kagome thinks to herself uncharitably. Or else she’d end up like her senile grandfather who to this day is constantly muttering to himself about the old legends and the importance of protecting oneself from yokai.

At times when Kagome decries the existence of yokai, her grandfather raves and they argue once again.

“To protect yourself from oni--”

“Ji-chan, they don’t exist.”

“Fool,” he’d say with a reprimanding frown. “I have seen them with my own eyes, Kagome. And it is your duty as the next Higurashi priestess-”

“Grandfather, mikos are a myth too.”

Remembering once such argument, Kagome grimaces. Her poor grandfather, the rich Higurashi heritage had gotten to him long ago.

Curling her lips in distaste, Kagome hastily moves away from the glass and the mask. She has to get the phone, and the day isn’t going to last much longer. Besides, she doesn’t want to stay in the shrine, this place that helped her grandfather fall into madness.

But he isn’t the first to succumb to the madness. In fact, Kagome knows that the Higurashi line is known for two things: the majestic shrine heritage and the penchant for madness. Scurrying out the exhibits, Kagome enters through to the foyer and hunches behind the reception desk rummaging through the cabinets to find the phone and finally get out of the shrine.

Kagome hears the click of shoes against the foyer’s marble floor. She freezes and listens. It could be an intruder. Or a rapist. Or a murderer. Or-  

She chides herself. If it was any of those things, she has both her pepper spray and her Taser, and should all else fail, she also has the confidence of those pesky self-defense classes her mother made her take last summer would see her out of trouble long enough to get away.

Cautiously, Kagome looks about the reception desk. Looks for something big. Big and heavy, she coaches herself. As she feels around for a weapon her gaze is constantly perusing the area until she feels the solid weight of a trophy in her hand. Curiosity had her taking a quick peek at why the shrine was given an award. It was an award for Excellence in Exhibition. The solid weight of the trophy gave her confidence , Kagome finally speaks.“Is anyone here?”

In a slow stretch, Kagome looks over the reception desk. Scanning the large foyer, Kagome clutches the heavy trophy tightly in her hands.

Then the clicking of shoes gets closer. And closer still until finally a figure emerges from the left side of the foyer, somewhere where the sunlight doesn’t reach, enshrouding the figure in darkness. Kagome licks her lips in fear. Waiting. Concentrating. Remembering everything she could.

Her instructor had said to hold her attacker back with a right hand on their shoulders and her feet would be arranged with the left one towards the front and the right one towards the back. Or was it the left foot?

“Are you the receptionist?”

Kagome jumps out of her skin and hurls the trophy towards the enshrouded figure, towards the disembodied voice. A dull thud was heard as the trophy connected with human flesh.

There is a groan somewhere in the darkness, and Kagome frantically searches for another object, freezing when the shadowy figure nears. Frantic blue eyes try to discern her attacker’s intentions.

But then, a man steps into the light, and he is bent over, looking tousled and more than a smidge in pain. “You have good aim.”

The man is tall with short, black hair slicked back. For a moment, Kagome’s suspicions and panic lighten with the realization that this man doesn’t look too dangerous, but rather, he looks like any other normal business man. Although younger and a tad more handsome than most. Yet, despite this, the uneasy quivering of her heart is enough to keep her on edge.

“Who are you,” Kagome demands even as she dances on the balls of her feet.

“Saiga Yuu, I scheduled an appointment to tour the museum today.”

“Well,” Kagome says, treading cautiously closer to the reception phone, “You must have come on the wrong day. The museum is closed Mondays.”

“Precisely,” the man says, smiling wryly, “I merely wanted to see what my family and I have been sponsoring for the last decade. I am a patron, you could say,” he says, and his voice echoes through the room, empty if not for ancient artifacts and the reception desk. “I was told that someone would show me around today.”

“Oh,” Kagome trails off awkwardly, already feeling the sweat beginning to pool on her palms. Hopefully her grandfather never finds out that she accidentally assaulted someone that contributes to their livelihood.

“In any case,” the man begins again, “I presume that you aren’t the one that will give me the tour.”

“No,” Kagome says, shaking her head. Licking her suddenly dry lips, Kagome opens her mouth before hesitating, “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone. There must have been a misunderstanding.”

Kagome nods to the man. “You’ll just have to reschedule.” She gives a small bow and a chagrined though still-formal smile.

The man looks vaguely disappointed but nods. Before he walks back out the door, he looks back at her. Slowly, so as not to set her off, he asks in a smooth, warm timbre, “Are you sure there isn’t a way that I could get a tour today? I came very far to see the shrine and all its history.” His smile is bright and warm.

She knows the type, the charismatic man whose charm extends from the roots of their hair to the tips of their toes and everything in between. Kagome also knows, that charming doesn’t mean ‘safe’. Charming men can be psychos, after all.

“No,” Kagome says firmly with a smile of steel.

It is enough for the man and he nods understanding. Dutifully, the man walks out the museum front doors as Kagome follows, at a safe distance, behind him.

“Take care,” the man says, but as he walks into the sunlight and stares at her, his brown eyes flash into a gold amber in the light. In that instance, the man’s whole countenance changes, and suddenly, Kagome hears her grandfather’s old warnings.

“Spirits can take corporeal form, Kagome, just as we do, but in the end, spirits are spirits. And should it please them or suit their ends, they will possess mortals. Those weak of mind or weak of heart.”

“Take care, little kasaru,” says the young man. “May we meet again.” And his voice sounds completely different than the man who spoke a few minutes earlier. It is deeper, richer, lilting with an undertone of indulgent mockery.

“Should it please them, they will possess mortals.”

And as his smiles gleams, an aching cold washes over Kagome’s skin, and gooseflesh rise on her skin, which tingles with all the awareness of hunted prey. Hastily, she runs back inside the museum, bolting the door, and tensing as she sees the man leave in his car. She watches until the car fades into the dying light.

She’s finally alone and the only danger out there is remembering her grandfather’s old ghost stories. Without further delay, Kagome double-checks the deadbolt and for any open windows in the foyer before heading back to the desk. Finally dialing her mom’s phone number, she shakes away the sudden chill and prickling of her skin. She licks her lips waiting for her mother to answer.

The phone rings a few time when her mom’s voice finally comes through.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Hey, Mom,” Kagome says, her voice shining with relief.

“Kagome?” Her mom’s voice is startled. “Why aren’t you calling from your cellphone? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just…” Kagome hesitates a moment. “I just broke my phone while walking around the shrine grounds. There was a perfect view on this cherry tree, and just had to take a picture. And just as I clicked it, the phone slipped out of my hands.”

“I see. But, are you sure you’re alright?” Her mother’s voice is worried. Kagome knows the warble her mother’s voice will take on.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I promise. Anyway. Mom, could you pick me up? I just finished touring the grounds, and I’m ready to visit Grandpa again tomorrow. Now he can’t say I don’t care about the Higurashi “history”.”

“Kagome,” her mom says. Kagome hears the smiling reprimand in her mom’s voice.

“So when can you pick me up?”

“In an hour, two at most.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mom. Bye.”

“Bye, Kagome. Call if anything else happens. Understand?” Her mother’s voice is velvet steel.

“Yeah, Mom,” Kagome says before hanging up.

Sighing, Kagome rubs her arms. What will she do to occupy the time?

Ten silent minutes pass as she sits there in the reception chair, each minute slower than the last. Each minute is composed of sixty seconds announced by the loud tick of the corner clock, and between each second lies an infinity that Kagome dissects all the old folklore of which her grandfather is so fond. But the restless energy builds and bubbles underneath her skin. It simmers higher and higher with each passing tick of the clock.

Maybe she can explore the restored gardens that were added in the front of the shrine. With a push from the chair, Kagome sets off through a set of double-doors off to the side of the foyer that lead out to the garden.

The garden, much like the rest shrine, is a remnant of the past, and Kagome revels in it.

A dainty red bridge stretches over a large natural pond, and koi fish dance through the water in delightfully dizzying circles. Along the surface of the water, lily pads float. ‘Where could all this water lead?’

Voraciously, Kagome explores deeper into the garden as the setting sun kisses over her skin. Throughout her walk in the gardens she noticed there are small monuments or statues. Some are dragons and others are kitsune. Some plaques speak of their significance to Japanese history and others give fun tidbits to entertain the common tourist.

After an hour’s wandering, Kagome found where the edge of the garden becomes the grove of moss and verdant trees that reach high for the Tokyo skyline. It is there that Kagome comes upon a final statue.

It is an Inugami statue standing proudly amongst the background of nature, there was a strong similarity to the mask from the museum. As Kagome nears to read the plaque a sensation of unease returns in full-force and Kagome slowly turns and retreats back towards the museum before she can even make out the full wording on the plaque. All her eyes had caught were: ‘dog’ . . . ‘sacrifice’  . . . ‘guardian’.  

As she turns to walk away, she feels a phantom hand on her shoulder pulling her back. Her blue eyes widen and ever-so slowly she turns back to the statue and the hand inscribed plaque under it. Studying the statue, Kagome notices how life-like it is: every single strand of fur is painstakingly carved and its eyes are proud, there were markings on the fur she could make out. Almost languidly she moves to read the plaque, before she could make to it  the raven-haired beauty heard the crack of a twig, the echo of footsteps somewhere within the woods, and her eyes flicker uneasily about the nearby area as she steps back one foot behind the other.

Never turning her back towards the forest, Kagome keeps taking hurried steps back until she is safely ensconced well within the boundaries of the garden. With one last penetrating look was aimed towards the grove of moss and trees, Kagome’s legs pumped hard to get her back to the shrine quickly. She spots another of those whispers of white flickering from within the corner of her eye. No matter how hard and fast she ran, she couldn’t escape those flickers.

Until, one of the lengthening shadows that encompassed the flashes of white morphed into something else entirely, into a figure, a column of strength in white whose face is covered by nothing more than an inugami mask.

Kagome freezes, and this moment of hesitation is what ensnares her. The figure’s hand snatches her into its clutches. Clutches that encased figure that is no ordinary man. Those hands that cradled her have claws, and beyond the mask, golden eyes glow with a supernatural radiance she only heard of in her senile grandfather’s stories. Kagome feels fear compound into greater heights and her body freezes in the creature’s hold.

“My Kasaru,” it croons in a deep and smooth voice. “How I have longed to meet you face to face once again.”

Kagome does not move, she can not as fear keeps her trapped and anxiety keeps her quiet. Is she to also fall prey to the Higurashi curse: the propensity for insanity, like so many before her?

One moment of hesitation and she looked inside herself, answering the question. No. No, she will not. She breathes deeply, forcibly willing the fear and anxiety to recede. She pauses any moments, waiting, observing the figure that still held her in its grasp. For each second she stood watching, the clutches of the creature loosened even as the figure dissolves into nothingness, and the shadow melds into the rest of them.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kagome began to walk through the garden in quick steps back to the museum. This cursed place is already making her hallucinate. Her steps are faster, as she pushed herself to return to the safety of the locked building. Kagome refused to let herself become like her grandfather, who was sent to a care facility for the old and senile, an asylum, somewhere else on Yakushima island.

Yet, she can’t shake the feeling of unease that plays at the edges of her senses. Perhaps . . . maybe she is not hallucinating . . . maybe this is real. This week was the anniversary of her father’s death and Kagome knows that even the sanest of people can hallucinate from such emotional duress.

Somewhere towards the forest, Kagome thinks she hears the start of the it's awakening for the night. She hears the chirp of crickets and the far off howls of wolves. Soon, the sun will completely fade from the sky to fall below the horizon.

Phantom sensations play over her skin, hands gently caressing every crevice of her body, clothed or not.Disembodied whispers fluttered around her, a voice softly calling. Kagome ignores these sensations as best as she can, though shivers repeatedly crawl up her spine. The darkness and lengthening shadows help to play tricks on the mind.

The later time of day has created shadows that make the garden look different than it is. Instead of beautiful, calming, and lively, it looks haunted, sinister and abandoned.

She hears the calm flow of the water, the cries of ravens, all resounding echoing praise. “Kasaru, Kasaru, how you fly.”

Suddenly, The miko’s mind is assaulted by a cold chill and her steps never falter. Even as an old dream teases at the fringes of her memories.

“Very fearsome. Periodically they can be vengeful.”  

She sees it: the hallucination, the dream. She is standing in front of an altar and the prescience of the creature is behind her and it places her hands upon its mask and Kagome knows that this beast is no man. Why wear the mask? With a sharp tug, the mask falls away to reveal an inhumanly beautiful face.

The thing stills, allowing her to study its delicate features.

“What do you want from me?” Her words fall to hollow air. There is blessed silence and no more of the infernal ghosting of words that have played along amongst the shadows of the garden as the creature whispered to her.

A conversation so reminisce of one she had with her grandfather the morning she leaves the Higurashi Shrine Museum more than nine years ago.

“Do you know how you conjure a spirit, Kagome?” Grandfather’s voice was earnest and forceful in pushing her to never forget this.

“Do you know how to conjure a spirit, Kagome?”

“Blood.”

The terrible hallucination is once again in her sights. “ Anything ,” it says with a sharp snap of its fangs and the grating, crazy tone of grandfather. Both of which merged into a sentence full of unworldly sound that would haunt her.

“Heiress of the Higurashi line, inheritor of your shrine’s ever-faithful dog. Long have I waited for a revenge so sweet . . .”

Nervous fluttering was felt against her ribcage as her heart raced in trepidation  and she struggled to pull away from the firm grasp of the demented thing. “What revenge?”

“Oh, little crow, I am the dog that your family so mercilessly slaughtered to conjure a spirit of protection and luck to bless this wretched shrine so many centuries ago. How faithfully I served so that one day I may avenge my murder.” A bitter sneer could be seen on that ethereal face.

“Why me?! I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill you!” Kagome squirms underneath the whispers of claws against the soft of her cheek. “Let me go, please!”

“Do you know how to conjure a spirit, Kagome? With blood, it but one way. Once, very long ago, there existed a tradition… For protection, a family would conjure a spirit -- to be more exact, create a spirit -- typically an Inugami . . .

“I cannot, nor will I ever intend to harm you, kasaru, but I have come to spirit you away at last. Only imagine it,” it says fervently, “to take something most precious from the Higurashi: their most promising heir and make her mine.”

Kagome continues to struggle fruitlessly to get away when the spirit lets her go with a mischievous grin.

“Run free if you can, my little Kasaru.” it says. With no further thoughts than escape, the miko runs as fast as she can.

No more than a second passes when she feels its presence behind her, sees the white flickers of cloth, and strands of silver hair.

“And so, they would kill the prized dog. It was a cruel practice, Kagome, but it was done. Your ancestor followed the practice, buried the dog, leaving only its head above ground with just a bit of food barely within the dog’s reach--”

Kagome runs, her hands over her ears to block out the haunting sadness. It did not work.

In her flight, she hears its croon. “It is finally time, little crow. Now, you shall be mine.”

With the wind blowing in her ears, she can hear the beat of her heart, feel her blood rapidly pumping through her veins, all as she remembers flickers of her childhood once again. From nightmares to her imaginary childhood friend . . .  

She remembers the funeral they held for her father. The funeral had been one of the few times Kagome had ever seen her grandfather away from the shrine or from Yakushima. It is during the funeral that she overheard her grandfather tell Kagome’s mother not to bring her back to the shrine.

“There is a danger to her there. The spirit is angered. It cannot have any power over her.”

She is his unwilling bride, and like the predator he is, he takes joy in the chase. He is inescapable, even in her worst dreams. But still, Kagome runs.

Maybe, this time. In the fading light of day, she can escape.

"Please," Kagome begs, "Please--"

Tears fell heavily from her cheeks and her ink black hair flies behind her. The utter hopelessness of the situation doesn’t stop her feet from pounding against the earth in one last desperate plea for salvation, for escape, for mercy.

All of a sudden, she hears the rumble of a car and sees the museum looming ever closer. Maybe the kamis had answered her desperate prayers. The well of hope inside her grew deep and with it her pace increased. This, Kagome understands, is the pivotal moment. She gave one last burst of speed and flies.

Her feet touch the asphalt, and she sees her mother coming closer. She sees their old car. She sees her freedom so far away.

“Mama!” She screams, and she knows she must look desperate. Hair entangled and in such a disarray, but she is free! Her tears of terror become drops of happiness. Her heart quivers with the promise of escape from this wretched place and frightening nightmare.

Kagome's screams were never heard and her mother never saw her as the older woman struggled to get their old car up the hill with the harsh glare of the sun limiting her sight. “Mama! Mama! Ma-!”

Behind her, the creature’s claws were a harsh vise-grip over her arm and its claws dig painfully into her skin, drawing blood. It turns her to face him and covers her mouth with its other disgusting paw. She struggles, jerks, bucks, flaying -- anything to get away and nothing works.  

And the abomination dares to nip her in reprimand. “Quiet, Kasaru. You are mine and mine alone. And no one . . .” he says as he turns for her to see the road, to see her mother, “No one shall tear you from me, nor shall I allow you to fly away from me even if I must be forced to clip your wings.”

The inugami whispers this warmly against the back of her neck, and finally, Kagome understands this feeling of hopelessness as she sees herself begin to fade back into the forest as her mother finally parks in front of the shadowed figures.

Kagome now understands the fear of a bird and its final resignation as it lies helpless in its hunter’s hands.

“Kagome!” Her mother calls, and if only she could answer . . .

This will be the final time she sees her mother; through this haze of drying tears.

“Come, little crow,” her hunter murmurs once again. They leave a worried mother to look about the grounds of a lonely shrine.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

"You have grown old. Your body is failing you already." A sneer covered a inhumanly beautiful face.

Indignation filled the old man as he spoke with a creature no one could see. "You took my granddaughter.”

His golden eyes lazily flicker to the old man, and with burning intensity, his claws wrap about the old man’s neck. “I claimed what was owed to me.”

"We paid our dues." Trying not to show any fear he felt, the old man sat back against the chair he was seated in.

“I, Sesshoumaru, your ancestor's once prized dog was killed unjustly. I did as I was bid faithfully, willingly since the day I was created. However, as time went on your bloodline grew cruel to this one."

The inugami watched as little Mayou scoffed in his hold. "I have no control over the actions of the past."

"Your bloodline never followed the rules did they? The man who created me had been accused of such sorcery and the code of the times was to give up such a lavish lifestyle and live a solitary life. However the rest of the family denounced him and they kept me, knowing what I was killed for. That pathetic man died alone and angry." Sesshomaru gave a bitter bark of laughter.

"From then on, every member of your family save two, were cruel to I. For that, my anger and my desire for revenge grew." Sesshoumaru punctuates each syllable with a pinch of his claws and a tighter hold.

“I was finally given reward by a foolish young boy who knew not to never engage the spirit realm. But this boy’s foolishness was my fortune. Would you like for me to tell you a story, little one?” Sesshoumaru waited for an answer, but the man could neither speak nor cry out.

Calculating, Sesshomaru's golden eyes once more studied the frail man within his grasp. “Once, a young boy lost in my forest cried for help. As the ever faithful guardian, I went, and I served. Out of his thankfulness, the boy wept tears of gratitude and offered a gift, a boon if you will, to his savior.

“Of course, as I had been bidden by the first Higurashi, I denied the offer. But this boy,” For a moment, the flat golden eyes look inexplicably fascinated and curious. “This boy offered his gift thrice more and when the faithful guardian turned to leave, he ordered the Inugami to accept what was offered.

“And there is, of course, no real way that a dog can disobey its master.” The smile on, the former inugami, Sesshomaru's face is feral and he continues his story with all the eloquence of a seasoned story-teller.

”Tell me,” said the boy, “tell that which you most desire.”

“Freedom. Revenge,” said the spirit.

“The boy was befuddled and said nothing. “How about a friend?” asked the little boy. "My name is Higurashi Chidenzo, but my friends call me Mayou." He puffed out his chest in pride and said with a sort of superior air that earned him his little nickname.

“And you,” Sesshoumaru says, claws tightening as he inspected his prey, “You thought to offer your friendship, as though this one would take such a paltry substitute for that which this he  most desires.

“It is good I had my wits about me that day, little Mayou. Do you remember still what this one said to you that day?" The former inugami looked down to the old man, remembering the small boy he once was. "This one asked instead for the hand of one of the Higurashi household, and you, in all your disgusting naiveté thought that this one meant the hand of friendship. How quick you were to agree.”

Raising the old man’s face to meet his, Sesshoumaru pinched the man’s weathered skin. “I shall not take your life this day, Mayou, for you have given me something of far more worth. Something precious.”

Sesshomaru's claws retracted away from beneath the flesh of the elder’s neck, before the claws of one hand ghosted along the old man’s face and white hair, in a semblance of a father’s pat.

“However, no other favors shall be extended to you. And this one orders you, little pet, to never interrupt my peace by searching for me or my precious little kasaru again.” Sesshomaru dropped the old man back into his chair and turned on his heel,  his kimono moving like silken water.

There was a breeze that drifted across the old man as the figure before him turned on an exquisitely booted heel.

"WE STILL OWN YOU!" One last bid of indignant fury left spittle to pour from the old man's lips.

"That is what you think little Mayou."

With that, the spirit left and the weak old man knew that this was the final time, never again would he see any spirit nor be visited by the mystical nor would any spirit haunt him. Never again would his family be blessed or broken by these spirits.

How bitter and happy were his tears that day.

Original Posting Date: July 9, 2016

Prompt: N/A

Word Count: 7534

Note: Let's all say a big thank you to my Beta, Aeris! She is honestly amazing, and without her, this wouldn't have been nearly as understandable. I leave gaps in my writing. So let's once again say thank you to Aeris.
Anyways, the idea for this story snuck up on me suddenly so I am not sure where the inspiration came from, but I do know what I referenced to help me through the writing process: Forsaken Memories by LC Rose (That story scared me silly the first time I read it), the Japanese folklore of the Inugami, and Yakushima, a Japanese island that is home to my fictional Higurashi Shrine Museum. Though, this short list does neglect a few articles I read to help me be able to write this... Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'd love to know what you think. Do you think this is horror or maybe something else entirely?