AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Word Count: 3,854
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ONIGUMO WAS A trickster. An exceptional deceiver. Just like a certain inugami she knew.
Kagome felt a shiver run down her spine, though the night was warm. She was bedded down in the main room of the dilapidated hut, covered by a thin blanket. Now that Onigumo’s fever was broken, there was no need for her to remain in constant close proximity to him, for which she was glad.
However, her thoughts were not far from him.
If she’d met him under any other circumstances, had she not known who he was, Onigumo would have had her fooled. Today had been nothing more than a well-played performance. But Kagome wasn’t fooled. While he’d done a lot of talking, she’d paid attention to what he hadn’t said. Not once had he mentioned any of his misdeeds. Instead, he’d painted himself in such a light as to be mistaken for a simple traveler, with a provincial upbringing that had been taken advantage of by a criminal overlord.
A false image.
She knew him.
Or rather, what he was. A warlord in command of a large band of criminals. Volent men who attacked the helpless, thieving from the impoverished, and killing the defenseless. Those they didn’t murder were taken captive, sold into slavery and prostituted. Onigumo was the mastermind behind every raid. People were maimed on his word, their lives lost by his faintest whim.
And for some reason, he wanted her to forget what he was by weaving a pretty story of his life. How much of it had been true?
“Every good lie is overshadowed by some truth,” Kikyo had told her, years ago. A warning Kagome had never taken to heart as she should have. But she was now. Kagome never considered herself naïve. A miko’s life was not for the faint of heart. But she’d always sought the good in everyone she’d met.
A memory surfaced.
“Your kindness is commendable, Kagome, but I fear, lacking in proper discernment.” Kikyo’s words.
“What dies that mean?”
Kikyo had stared at her without comment. Coolly. Calmly. That look said it all.
Immature.
Kagome recalled her anger falling away under the weight of inadequacy. Unlike her, Kikyo never allowed emotion to rule her.
Kikyo had finally broken the heavy silence with, “You are too trusting.”
Kagome rolled over on her bedding with a tired sign, eyes settling on the doorway that lead to Onigumo’s chamber.
The warlord was very charismatic, she thought grimly. Had she met him as a stranger upon the street, she never would have guessed at the corruption hidden beneath his charming smile and pleasant attitude.
The ease of which the wicked were capable of concealing their inner darkness terrified her, made her question everything she knew, everyone she’d ever met or known.
Trust. A commodity she’d once taken for granted. Had thought was a virtue. Now, she saw what Kikyo had been trying to teach her. Trust—blind trust—was a weakness and beyond foolish.
Deception was merciless, seeking advantage. Basking in the ignorance of others. The too trusting.
These last few days, Kagome’s eyes had been ripped wide open. The world was a much bigger place than she’d ever stopped to conceptualize, the people scarier beyond her wildest imagination.
She had been naïve.
A quiet, derisive laugh escaped her, directed solely at herself. Not so long ago, she’d believed that an ‘evil’ man would be easy to spot. Surely such darkness could not be concealed? But since having Onigumo as her patient, not once had he struck her as a criminal, and one of the worst of the worst at that.
If he was convinced he’d successfully deceived her, she thought it best to allow the misconception. For now. It would work in her favor. She wasn’t sure what he was planning, but she did not fool herself. He was scheming. He had no intention of meekly accepting that justice had finally come for him.
Let him underestimate her.
She’d been underestimated all her life, but she was stronger, more resilient, than anyone ever given her credit for.
Though, really. What could Onigumo do? He was injured, unable even to walk with that leg of his, and he was alone, the warband he’d travelled with decimated. There were others, she was sure, but the rest of his men, wherever they were, would have no idea where he was, and in a few days, it wouldn’t matter. The village monk would return soon. Then Onigumo would no longer be her patient. Or rather, not her problem.
Another man came to mind, one who wasn’t really a man at all.
Sesshomaru.
Unlike Onigumo, who hid behind false smiles and pretty lies, the inugami had never once deceived her. He’d always been open, honest about his intentions. He’d never tried to mislead her—a daemon.
Inugami especially were tricksters.
And yet, he had shown more integrity than Onigumo, a human.
Kagome’s whole belief system was turned upside down, where right was wrong and wrong was right, and light was dark and dark was light. The world was full of complexities that went far beyond her simple upbringing. She was out of her depth, had been the moment she’d gone to the Inu no Kami’s shrine. As evident when she’d retuned with an inugami.
For all his faults, Kagome felt a grudging respect for Sesshomaru’s transparency.
But mostly pain. It went beyond his little cruelties, his harsh handling of her and vicious words.
When Sesshomaru looked at her, he didn’t see her at all.
He saw a symbol. A miko. A lie.
A hypocrite.
Miko. Dark miko. He saw little to distinguish the two, except an unshakable belief that one lived a lie. Such a one as her. To prove his estimation of miko, he toyed with her, sought to manipulate her emotions, her reactions.
No, he didn’t see her.
He saw what he wanted to see, and if she didn’t fit what he saw, he was determined to make her fit into his perception. But when he’d failed, he’d abandoned her.
They had a contract, forged in blood and death. Granted, for a single a month, but hadn’t he made an issue of staying by her side? Not for first time, she wondered if their contract had been revoked now that he was gone. Had she won? Was she free?
Could it have been that simple?
And what of the promise he’d made to help her find Kikyo? Had that vow become void if their contract was no longer in effect?
Some childish part of her was hurt. He’d promised.
He’d lied.
Kagome had never felt more alone. Her heart cried out for her sister, to feel Kikyo’s comforting arms around her, to hear her soft assurances. She denied feeling a similar need from a certain inugami, hiding that traitorous desire in the longing she felt for Kikyo.
Just as she was falling asleep, she spoke a name, but it wasn’t Kikyo’s. And the face she saw before awareness left her had eyes as gold as the sun. Oblivious, Kagome lost herself to dreams.
A COUPLE DAYS later, Kagome offered to allow Onigumo to feed himself breakfast. She’d been slowly thickening the soup with additional scraps of chicken, root vegetables, and herbs with each meal.
Onigumo ate everything she gave him, often demanding more.
“More meat, less everything else,” he’d complain, good-natured. Always with a smile. Except for his eyes. The dark, blue-green pools were aware, assessing, but empty.
It was eerie.
Surprisingly, Onigumo did not reach for the food, even when she showed him more meat, less everything else to tempt him. Instead, he gave his bad shoulder a feeble shrug, wincing at even that small movement.
“I hate to impose upon your kindness further, little bird, but I don’t think I’m yet ready to do much for myself. The wound pulls something fierce.”
Kagome eyed the two puncture marks just over his collarbone. The flesh was puckered, fiery pink, and raised. Like burns. She’d yet to give him a haori to wear, knowing the open air would do his healing wounds good.
She knew his injured arm was his dominant side, and any movement would be unpleasant, but her tone was matter-of-fact. “I’m sure it will be uncomfortable at first, but you mustn’t neglect your recovery. If you do not start working the joint and muscle soon, the more long-term damage you will have. Your mobility will be greatly affected, as will your strength.”
She held the bowl and spoon closer in encouragement—a silent demand.
“You’re a hard woman, little bird.” But he did take his breakfast with only a small wince.
She eyed him suspiciously. He was moving easier than he’d lead her to believe. Almost as though he were already working the joint to return flexibility. She’d never seen him doing it, but as she watched him spoon his first bite, she knew he was. Secretly. Without her knowing.
Perhaps he wanted her to view him as feeble? Believing she might have further pity on him and not give him over to the authorities. Kagome nearly snorted. If that were his aim, he wasted his time. Still, she played ignorant.
“Noted,” she replied dryly to his comment on her character. “And stop calling me that.”
“As you like, Kagome.”
Kagome’s brow twitched at his teasing. The way he said her name was far too intimate, and the look in his eyes sent heat flooding her face. He was flirting with her. Her lips thinned, discomforted by her reaction to him and unamused by his inappropriate familiarity. He was a handsome man, and charming.
She was unaccustomed to such attention. She was a miko, had always been shown the proper difference of her station. Never was she seen as anything less, certainly not as a woman with her on wants and desires.
She decided to ignore him, least her displeasure encouraged him. It had before. For the last two days, he’d been laying on the charm as thick as honey, and just as sweet. No amount of ill-temper had been able to dissuade him. In fact, it had done the exact opposite. Even ignoring him did little good, but what else could she do, she thought with an inward sigh of irritation.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that soon he would no longer be her responsibility. Onigumo didn’t know it, but while he’d slept last night, Kagome had received news that the monk had arrived.
After breakfast, she was resolved to pay the monk a call and reveal everything. She’d already waited too long to confide in somebody. There was cunning in Onigumo’s eyes just beneath his genial facade. Kagome had to remind herself not to underestimate him. It was time to wipe her hands clean of him.
What was he thinking? she thought, trying to hide her unease. What could he possibly do to prevent the inevitable?
He could attack her, her mind warned. Try to kill her.
She gave an inward shake of her head. Even if he was somehow able to gain the upper hand and overpower her while in his wounded state, where would he go? How would he leave? He’d need help, or at the very least, a horse. His steed was currently on the outskirts of the town, refusing to allow anyone to get near who wasn’t his master. Would the beast hear his shrill whistle from such a great distance and come for his master?
Even so, someone would see him, and it wouldn’t be long after that someone would come looking for her—probably the elderly miko, or recently returned monk. And once they found her, a search would undoubtedly follow, and in Onigumo’s condition, he wouldn’t get far.
No, killing her was a poor option.
Was that why he tried so hard to be charming? Her mind circled back to a previous thought. Was he so arrogant to believe he could change his fate by seducing her?
The audacity of this man!
The sooner she saw the monk, the better. But what would she say? Certainty, she had no intention of bringing awareness to the whole story, least of all her foolish agreement with an inugami. The daemon was no longer an issue, anyway. But what if Onigumo were to mention her association with the daemon once the authorities came for him?
A criminal’s word could not be trusted.
But what if the monk listened…?
Kagome felt sweat gather under her arms. She should make ready to depart as soon as she spoke to the monk, she decided. No one would be able to follow her because no one knew where she was going. Not even her.
She still had no notion how she was to continue her search for Kikyo, other than to travel the countryside in a slow circuit, checking every village and town she found. She’d start looking in nearby settlements and gradually branch outwards. It would be slow, but it was something. Giving up was not an option. And besides, she had nowhere else to go.
“What are your plans for the day, little bird?”
Kagome’s gaze flickered to Onigumo then away, shoulders stiffening. Did he know what she intended? Had he heard her conversation with the elderly miko last night? Impossible. The aged woman had stopped by only long enough to bring more supplies and news without even stepping into the hut, and their voices had been low whispers so as not to disturb her sleeping patient.
“More chores, perhaps?” he prompted.
Kagome cleared her throat, refusing the bait despite her discomfiture. Yesterday, she’d purposefully stayed away from his room with the excuse that she had other chores to attend to without elaborating. She’d had to get away from him. All he did was talk, and despite her loathing, he was too…likeable. Too beguiling.
That his scheming proved successful, for even a single moment, strengthened her animosity towards him, while heightening her disgusted towards herself.
Naïve. Gullible.
Her inadequacies were given fuel to the fire, incinerating what little confidence she’d gleaned for herself over the years. They now appeared as little more than childish reassurances.
Once, her anger towards him—at herself—had nearly overcome her. A traitorous thought had demanded to be voiced, to point out that his masculine appeal didn’t even come close to the painful perfection of Sesshomaru’s beauty.
Foolish, foolish. Luckily, she’d been able to bit back the impulse just in time. But thoughts of Sesshomaru never failed to pain her.
How could she even notice either males’ attractiveness, let alone react to it, when she knew what they were? Wicked. Corrupt. Was she so shallow that she could forget for even a moment of the rot they harbored inside themselves just because their outward appearance was so appealing?
Onigumo continued, oblivious to her self-deprecating thoughts.
“Yesterday, I nearly expired from boredom. If you have no pressing concerns, perhaps you and I can find some way to occupy ourselves. Together.”
Kagome eyed him, wary. “Not that I have any intention of agreeing, but what have you in mind?”
Was he trying to keep her from leaving? From seeing the monk? Or was he being genuine? She was chagrined to learn that, where Onigumo was concerned, she could not tell. Her inability to read him went beyond the fact that they were mere strangers. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have fallen for his amicable charade long ago.
“Anything. Everything. Something… pleasant. Pleasurable. Where we may find equal enjoyment.”
Heat lit his usually dead eyes, the fire scorching his words, transforming them into a thick smoke of seduction.
Kagome’s voice was sugary sweet. “I would hate to cause you further discomfort if even the simple task of feeding yourself is too much for you.”
His grin was full of amusement and wicked intent. “I have it on good authority that my recovery would benefit greatly from some measure of exertion. Perhaps a demonstration of my current mobility and strength is necessary for a more complete analysis of my condition?”
“I believe you are overestimating your, ah, abilities.”
Kagome blinked, shocked. Was she…flirting back? With Onigumo?
Furious, at herself, at him, she waved impatiently for his empty bowl and spoon. “If you have finished, I have other business to attend to.”
Onigumo did not relinquish either item. “I don’t know what you are referring to,” he teased, causing her to blush to the root of her hair, “but I had something simple in mind. Playing cards, board games, or even dice. We could make it even more interesting by raising the stakes. Are you a gambling woman?”
“I’m a miko.”
“Implying, you are above such pleasures.” The look he gave her was disbelieving.
Their conversation uncomfortably mirrored one she’d had over a week ago, with another incorrigible male.
You appear of breeding years. Are you truly untouched?
“I am a miko,” she remembered saying to Sesshomaru, a reprimand.
Miko fornicate all the time.
Obviously, Onigumo had just as low of an opinion of miko as Sesshomaru.
The memory of her conversation with the inugami made her burn, and not just with embarrassment, for her next thought was that of Sesshomaru kissing her. Of him touching her.
Kagome clenched her knees tighter together where she knelt beside Onigumo, trying not to fidget at the low ache that had sparked in her core.
Shame scolded her. What was wrong with her?! She’d been acting strangely ever since meeting the inugami. She froze. Had he done something? Not for the first time she wondered if he had cast some sort of magic upon her. Impossible!
She was a…miko.
The excuse was becoming worn, even to her fraying nerves.
Kagome’s reply was tart, filled with venom. “This may come as a shock to you, but I have no desire to entertain you. I am not one of your men. We are not friends. You are nothing more than a wounded man I am taking pity on—temporarily!—regardless of your appalling past deeds.”
Leaning over, she took his bowl and spoon and set them at her far hip with a sharp crack. “Now, before I go, I’ll look over your wounds. First, your leg. Lift your hips.”
Onigumo had insisted to lower his hakama leg days ago, forcing her to go through this ridiculous ritual to see to his injuries.
“Never would I say no to such a beautiful woman bent on removing my clothes.”
At his outrageous remark, Kagome jerked against his hakama ties with more force than was necessary, her temper flaring.
“Eager, I see.”
Her back teeth clenched as she bit back her instinctive retort, knowing he was baiting her. Refusing to fall for his games, she reigned in her temper as best as she could and kept her movements brisque but gentle as she lowered his hakama.
Onigumo’s voice was casual, his words were not. “See anything you like?”
Hakama down to his calves, a white fundoshi covered him, along with the wrappings around his left leg, supported by two wooden poles. Damn the male, but he knew what effect he had on women. Young, muscular, without an ounce of fat on him, Onigumo was an impressive specimen of manhood, but Kagome wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
She focused on his wounds.
The puncture on his thigh was the same as his shoulder; it was healing. There was nothing she could do for his shattered knee other than to check to make sure the bandages remained secure. The best thing for his leg was to keep it immobile and not allow him to apply any weight to it for several weeks. With that done, she helped him readjust his hakama. Only when she reached his hips and her forearm brushed his fundoshi did she notice the swelling. She stiffened at the evidence of his desire for her.
Rage seethed. The urge to slap him nearly overwhelmed her.
Needing to get away from him before she fell to the impulse, refusing to let him reduce her to violence, she quickly put his hakama to rights, before knotting the ties.
She had to visibly relax before she could continue. Thankfully, Onigumo did not tease her. Perhaps he was not as unaware of her loathing towards him as he conveyed, realizing just how close she was to losing it and causing him harm.
Once she’d regained control over her emotions, she asked, almost politely, “One last thing. May I?” Hands raised, they hovered over the bandage wrapped around his forehead. She wanted nothing more than to leave, but she was compelled to complete her exam.
She kept her eyes on the bandage wrapped around his forehead even when she felt his stare bore into her.
Heat blazed in her face, but vaguely, she noted not in her body. Only one man had ever been able to pull that response from her. A daemon, not a man. She shook the thought away before it could fully form and make her even more agitated than she already was.
Onigumo’s desire unnerved her—enraged her, but she forced herself to ignore it. Pretended it did not exist.
Neither of them spoke. Instead, he only nodded for her to continue, but when she unfurled the bandage and pressed gentle fingers to the scabbed gash on the back of his head, feeling the tender swelling, he flinched.
Her response was immediate. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.” After checking that the gash was healing without complication, she decided to leave the bandage off, believing the air would do the wound good. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone in your condition.”
“Sweet praise from a sweet woman.” His smile was tight with pain, but the empty eyes continued to blaze with fire, with passion.
Shaking her head with a roll of her eyes, Kagome picked up the used bandage and the bowl and spoon before getting to her feet. Moving towards the doorway, she threw over her shoulder, voice casual. “I have an errand to run, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Oh? Where are you going?”
Kagome wasn’t fooled by his disinterested tone.
Did he know?
She doubted it. He did nothing to stop her. He was only curious, she told herself. Perhaps suspicious but he couldn’t know. Not for sure.
She should have revealed his identity sooner, she castigated herself angrily. Now, she itched to get it over with, but she forced herself to stop and glance at Onigumo over her shoulder.
Lest he see the truth in her eyes, she lowered them to his homespun hakama, pointedly drawing his attention, and weaved a lie. “You’ve been wearing the same garment for nearly a week. It needs to be washed, but we have no extras. I’m sure the town’s miko can spare another.” Her eyebrow lifted. “Unless you’d rather sit around in your undergarments while they are cared for?”
A lascivious grin curled his lips. “Whichever you prefer.”
His invitation was clear.
Kagome turned away in silent refusal, his husky laughter following her out of the hut.