Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger
Jealousy's Reign
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to give a HUGE Thank You to those who nominated this story for the Best Dark fanfiction. It's so gratifying that someone thought 'hey, this story is pretty good, so let's show my appriciation and nominate'. Seriously, it's an amazing feeling to realize other's really enjoy my passion for writing :3 I hope this new chapter will continue to drag you further into the plot I'm weaving. Happy readings!
Prompt: 'A fool may give a wise man council.'
The next morning Kagome was kneeling beside the propped up Onigumo, spoon feeding him his breakfast of chicken broth with added small bits of chicken. When she had made his breakfast, she denied her reasons for trying to make his meal more bearable, but she knew, even though she still disliked him extremely for his part in her current homeless circumstance, she still felt a twinge of conscious for the small boy he had been, beaten and abused, and for the young man he used to be, forced to kill or be killed.
However, he too noticed his meal change, and of course he had to comment with that handsome, roguish smile of his that would have—on any other man—caused her to blush in maidenly shyness.
“So I am to be given slightly more edible fare today, little bird? What is the occasion? Am I to receive an unpleasant visit today by angry villagers or has that priest arrived early, and this is your way of a parting gift?”
Normally his outrageous flirtation would annoy her greatly, but her mind was too filled with missing the Inugami, that she felt only mild irritation.
“My name is Kagome, not little bird,” she reprimanded while spooning his breakfast and offering it to him. “And no, there’s no occasion. I figured you were right, and could be given something more solid to help regain your strength more quickly. Depending on how well your stomach takes this, I’ll see that you have something more substantial for the afternoon meal.”
Onigumo was forced to chew and swallow before he could make his reply, but she saw that his eyes danced with mirth.
“Splendid. I am not a plant to live off of water. I need meat and lots of it,” he teased.
Kagome didn’t comment, amber eyes again flashing in her mind, causing a strange pang in her chest. Perhaps, she reflected, she only missed Sesshomaru because she had grown used to his company, and he was the only familiar face she knew, and, too, because he knew what had occurred recently, how much she had lost. It was strange comfort knowing someone else was aware of her loss, but he was gone. She had to remember that he wasn’t coming back.
How foolish of her to think for even one second that he would have returned for her these past few days.
Onigumo noticed her downcast mood, wondering what its cause was. He felt a strong, unfamiliar urge to offer comfort but knew she would only reject his innocent desire. Instead, he tried to shift her thoughts in hopes of—if not cheering her—then diverting her from her current musings.
“What are your plans for today, little bird? Yesterday, I almost expired from boredom. Surely there is something that could preoccupy our time during our stay here.”
“And what, pray tell, do you suggest we do?” she challenged mildly, feeding him. “You are injured, unable to move around freely on your own, and the villagers barely tolerate us. We are strangers here. It’s not as if we could invite friends over for tea and gossip.”
He grinned at her.
“Surely you have more imagination than ‘tea and gossip’. We could play a game. I’m sure you can obtain some playing cards, or dice, or some such harmless pastime.”
“This might seem strange to you,” she said, staring him squarely in the eyes, “but I have no desire to entertain you. I am not one of your comrades or your friend. You are nothing more than a wounded man I am taking pity on to care for, regardless of your appalling past deeds.”
“So you have mentioned in the past,” he smiled wryly, not put off by her attitude towards him.
He knew he deserved far worse from her, was surprised she did as much as she was doing for him after all he had taken from her. There were times during his journeys that he had stumbled across such selfless beings, but he had always scorned their ability to overlook another’s abhorrent actions in favor of attempting to see the good inside the individual, to try and relate to the human heart everyone possessed. He had always thought them naïve.
Perhaps, in reality, he was the jaded, cynical, close-minded fool to be pitied. Always before dispatching decent people such as this miko, he would have a grand time fooling them, playing on their heart strings, making them believe he wished to change his wicked ways, before betraying them in some way, and ultimately sending them to the afterlife.
Truth be told, the only reason he had mentioned his unfortunate childhood last night—while not a lie—was to gain this miko’s sympathy, to manipulate her in such a way that she would look past his misdeeds, and view him in a better light. To pity and empathize with the child he had been.
His only aim at the time, during his revelation, was to stop her from abandoning him to some unknown priest who may or may not have his best interest at heart, and to ultimately be turned in to the law and made accountable for his past crimes.
Surely he had been somewhat successful considering her reaction to his tale, but today? She was distant, barely responsive to him. She again viewed him as an unwanted burden, and that knowledge rankled his pride as a man and his ego.
For some strange, unfathomable reason, he had also wanted her to like him, so he had endeavored to charm her with his recollections of his past—other than the one concerning his childhood, of course.
Her innocence called to him, made him yearn to reach out across the small distance between them that felt like miles, and hold her close to his chest, to a heart he had long since felt cold and unmoving. It wasn’t just her young, beautiful face, for he had seen far more beautiful visages, and it wasn’t because his battered body desired to possess hers physically, to sink deep inside her body. It was something more. The skip of his heartbeat when he saw her appear this morning to feed him, how it raced when she drew near, and the strange longing he felt to keep her by his side.
How could he have such feelings for a woman he didn’t really know?
Perplexing, but undeniable, and he was not a man to deny what he was feeling and what he wanted.
And he wanted her.
They had months yet together before that bothersome priest appeared. Surely he could make her feel the same for him in that amount of time? Women loved him, flocked to him to gain his attention. He had no doubt in his mind that he would make it so, for it had never been so important to him until now that he succeed.
He blinked, shook himself from his musings, but he grinned in self-mockery.
This had to be obsession. How else would he explain seeing her face before he drifted off to sleep and waking with her name upon his lips? This was not the first time he had felt such all-consuming desire to possess, to take for himself, for he had always been a man of huge passions, desiring things—a horse, position, riches—and going after them with single-minded determination.
His eyes flickered over her face. He almost pitied her for being the object of his desire, for there was no getting away from him. He would have her, his injuries be damned.
He cared not if he would never regain the full use of his leg. He would adjust to the limp he was sure to have. He was still young, strong, rich and influential. There was much he could offer her.
He was brought out of his thoughts when Kagome set aside the bowl. He blinked, realized long minutes had stretched between them in silence while they had both been lost in their own thoughts.
She reached for him.
“Allow me to look at your wounds. The bandages probably need changing and more ointment.”
“Of course,” he replied, taking enjoyment in the touch of her small hands on his chest as she untied the bandages covering his shoulder wound.
He clenched his teeth at the sharp stab of pain her ministrations caused his wounds. They were sore and felt like hellfire. If it had not been for the powdered pain mediation she had kept close at hand for him, he knew he would be in worse shape than he already was.
In an effort to distract himself from the agony, he asked, “Where do your thoughts take you?”
“That is none of your concern,” she replied absentmindedly, removing the last of his bandages, leaving his bronzed chest bare to her gaze, and the four punctures on his shoulder.
“Am I left to wonder? Perhaps we can make a game of this. What do you say, little bird? If I guess what is on your mind, will you tell me if I am correct or not, and of course give me small hints if I am close to discovery or not?”
During his ridiculous prattling, Kagome had fingered the flesh around his wound. It was inflamed with infection, but not as of yet oozing pus. Her worry turned to annoyance as she raised her gaze to meet his own.
“Will you be serious for five minutes? And I told you my name is Kagome. Why do you insist on referring to me by that ridiculous name?”
He chuckled.
She glared at him.
“Your name, ‘Kagome’, means ‘bird in a cage’, does it not? And you most surely are one. A spitfire of a woman, but forced into a tame, sedate calling.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, gazing down to again inspect his wound, frowning as she drew nearer for closer inspection.
“See anything you like?” he teased.
Ignoring his flirtation, she replied seriously, “Your wound seems to be enflamed with the beginning signs of infection. I do not have the herbs at present to fight it off.” She moved to his leg and removed his blanket. “I’ll check your other injuries before leaving to collect them.”
Her hand hesitated over the ties that held his hakama, looking up at him, silently asking for permission.
He grinned, showing all his teeth in a roguish smile.
“Never would I say no to such a beautiful woman bent on removing my clothes.”
She rolled her eyes at him in answer and fumbled at his ties, her hands clumsy in her embarrassment. He just had to make this situation as uncomfortable for her as he could, she thought unkindly.
He helped her by rising his backside off the floor, groaning from the pain the action caused him, his shattered knee not thanking him.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured without thinking, pulling down his garment passed his knees.
“Worried about me, are you?” he asked through gritted teeth, riding the pain.
She ignored his comment and focused first on his thigh, unraveling the bandage. She told herself to keep her gaze fixed squarely on her objective, but she couldn’t help but give his flaccid member a sideways glance. It was as ugly to her as ever, but she was still curious about this part of him that she had such little knowledge of.
His chuckle was slightly strained.
“Give me a minute, and I will be up and ready to impress.”
She frowned, not understanding his meaning at first, but a second later, she did and flushed. She knew she had been caught staring.
“You shouldn’t say such inappropriate remarks,” she scolded, her eyes on his revealed wound—a singular puncture similar to the ones on his shoulder—her face scarlet.
“You’re no fun,” he joked in obvious amusement at her discomfort.
“You should remember that,” she shot back, while she inspected his injury, noting that there were no signs of infection to worry about.
Wordlessly, she ran her hand lightly along his bandaged and splinted knee, making sure they held, and that his knee would heal aligned, and hopefully not cripple him to the extent of being unable to ever walk again.
She didn’t care if he never stood on his own again, she knew, but it was her duty to provide the best of her healing arts in an attempt at the furthest recovery possible. He wasn’t going to be walking ‘free’ anyway after he was handed over to the law. But on principle, she had to do all she could to help heal him.
He was silent during her inspection, which surprised her. She gazed up at him in silent inquiry only to see his jaw tightly clenched and beads of sweet lining his brow. She felt a pang of remorse to see anyone in such agony and endeavored to offer empathetic words.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I am only trying to help. You are doing remarkably well for someone in your condition.”
“Sweet praise from a sweet woman,” he said, offering her a tight smile.
She tried to return his smile, but it cracked along the edges. She could not get over what he had done to her. She doubted she would ever be able to forgive this man. However, she hoped her bitterness and anger would lessen after time. She did not want to be embittered for the rest of her life but return to the happy, carefree girl she had been before this mess had occurred. She was doubtful she ever would be the same again, though.
The thought only made her sad, so she dispelled it. She had had enough of self-pity. It accomplished nothing but making her more miserable.
“After I’m finished re-wrapping your leg and dressing you, I’ll leave your shoulder wound exposed for now until I get back with the herbs I need.” As she spoke, she worked, bandaging his thigh, and helping him get his hakama back on.
Then she stood and picked up the old bandages with one hand and bowl with the other.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised.
“Even a few minutes without your company feels like eternity, but I shall faithfully await your return,” he replied, ever flirtatious.
She shook her head as she exited his room, doubting his ability to ever be serious.
Minutes later, she exited the hut, basket on her arm, and walked with a fast pace.
Unbeknown to her, not long after she left, another entered the hut.
She didn’t walk through the village as the dwelling she shared with Onigumo was on the outskirts of the village and the herbs she needed would be found growing in the forest. Luckily for her, the village was surrounded by trees, almost as if it were protected by the shrubbery.
The path she followed was on the other side of the village from where she and Onigumo had entered on horseback, so she didn’t have to worry about stumbling upon the bloody scene from a few nights ago; though she was sure the village men had already moved the bodies of the fallen bandits. The memory alone caused her to shudder in renewed horror.
She had noticed, the last time she had ventured this way to collect the medicinal herbs she required, that there was a river. She had used its cleansing, yet chilly, waters to bathe and knew she would have to give Onigumo a bath soon. He was starting to smell—not his fault—and she was sure he would appreciate a bath. She should probably do that later this afternoon, she thought.
Kagome was brought out of her thoughts abruptly when sounds of splashing and gurgled, desperate pleas for help reached her ears.
Heart pounding, she raced towards the water’s edge and several yards further down before she saw what looked to be a small person—a child—thrashing wildly in the water.
Oh my God! she thought with some panic.
“I’m coming!” she screamed, hoping she was heard over the child’s struggles. “Just hold on!”
She dropped her basket, struggled out of her ugly, brown kimono until she was only in her white under yukata, then kicked off her sandals, and ran into the water, before diving in when her feet could no longer touch the ground and her head still be above the water.
It took her no time at all to reach the squirming small bundle, thankful she had been in time to reach the child before he or she went under.
“It’s okay,” she sputtered, trying to get the child to stop fighting her. “I’m helping you, now hold onto me!”
She wasn’t sure if the child had understood her words or realized that she was there to help, for the small body then clung to her. Little legs wrapped around her hips and thin arms held a vice like grip around her neck, making breathing more difficult, but she didn’t reprimand the child, only kicked and moved her arms as best she could through the icy water until she could finally touch her feet on the river’s bed.
Sopping wet, Kagome splotched her way through the ankle deep water before coming to dry land and fell to her knees upon the grass. She was trembling uncontrollably from the chill, her clothes heavy with water, hair plastered in wild disarray over her face and down her back.
She tried to set the child down, but the small body refused to release her.
Still unsure of the child’s gender, but going by the short mop of black hair and wet clothes, she’d hazard a guess that he was a boy. She patted his back soothingly, her arms holding the shivering body close to her own.
“Hey, there, there, little one. You have nothing to fear anymore,” she tried to soothe, but she needed to look him over to make sure he was alright, and there was still the threat of exposure if she didn’t get him out of his soggy clothes.
She tilted her head back and encouraged him to release his strangling hold around her neck by prying them loose and setting him on the grassy ground before her.
“I know you’re scared,” she cajoled, “but I need to make sure you’re alright.”
Just then he started coughing, raw, terrible sounds that sent alarm through her.
Without asking permission, she gently but firmly turned him over and laid him out on his stomach and began pressing on his back, forcing the water from his lungs. Though he was no longer in the river, water in the lungs could be fatal if not expelled.
More coughing followed by retching heaves as the water was forced out of his body.
Seconds later, he collapsed, unmoving other than the huge gusts of tortured breathing that shuddered his small frame. Empathy and pity creased her brow as she turned him over on his back, propping his torso against her arm, holding him up to help him breathe easier.
“Shhh, it’s alright now. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” she murmured to him softly, stroking his wet hair from his round face turned white from the cold, lips blue and trembling. “What’s your name?”
The boy merely gazed back at her silently. He couldn’t be more than half a decade old, she surmised. Maybe five or six years of age.
Perhaps he was in shock?
She wasn’t finished saving him, she knew. She had to get him out of his clothes and somewhere warm. Her eyes darted to her discarded kimono, figured she could use that to wrap around him after she had taken his dripping clothes off.
Her hands moved to his haori, intending to remove it.
“Here, let me take this off. You need—hey!” she exclaimed when the boy scrambled out of her lap, his eyes wide and fear filled as he darted a quick glance at her before running off towards the village.
Kagome stood, hand outstretched as she called after him, but she hesitated to follow. Even though she had saved him, for some reason he was afraid. Of her?
She shook her head. No, he must still be terrified from his near death experience and ran from a stranger and to his family where he felt most safe.
She sighed and glanced at her discarded clothes.
She frowned at them and not for the first time wished she still wore the garments of her trade. Perhaps then these villagers wouldn’t look at her with veiled mistrust.
Glancing around, she quickly stripped off her soaking socks and yukata, blushing at her nudity as she quickly struggled to put on her kimono, then her sandals.
Running her fingers through her wet hair, she tried to bring order to the tangled mess, half-wishing she had brought a hair tie to put the wet mass up instead of leaving the hut without one.
Normally she would have put her hair up in the traditional style all miko preferred, but today she had truly forgotten, her mind too preoccupied with the absent Inugami and the injured Onigumo to remember the subconscious ritual. It seemed trivial given the circumstances.
Folding her wet yukata as small as she could, she put it at the bottom of her basket, and with one last glance towards the village where the unknown boy had run, she turned and set off to collect the herbs she needed for Onigumo. Just thinking about the injured bandit made her sigh. He was sure to notice her wet state and comment on it.
Over half an hour had eclipsed before she made her way back to Onigumo. Because of her rescue attempt, it had taken her longer to return and renewed worry quickened her steps as she recalled the infection Onigumo was starting to show signs of having. She still had to beat the herbs into a sticky solution, the milky substance inside the plant transforming it into a very effective ointment for infections and that took time. She had to hurry. Who knew if the infection was even now spreading, worsening.
Shouts and angry yells grew steadily louder as she made her way to Onigumo. She frowned, then her heart pounded with fear. What was happening? Walking faster, unable to run in the confining kimono, she almost growled in frustration, wishing Sesshomaru was there to slice away at the fabric to make movement easier.
Exiting the forest, several yards ahead was the hut she shared with Onigumo, but dozens of villagers surrounded the small building, angry shouts barely heard above the roar of the flames.
The hut was on fire.
Kagome stood, gaping at the inferno that shot impossibly high into the sky, the smell of smoke impossible to miss. Memories of her Obaasan lying dead in their burning hut, the flames licking at Kagome’s clothes, ready to consume her too in a painful death.
Horror and remembered panic kept her immobile for long seconds as her brown, wide eyes reflected the dancing flames. She moved closer on shaky legs, unaware that she did so, still caught in her memories, unable to break free from the fear that gripped her.
Voices intruded in her chaotic thoughts, shouts and cries echoing in her ear. At first she feared she was back in her village, watching it be destroyed all over again, and the screams she heard where that of the scared and dying.
But no…she could distinguish voices, words and sentences, and none cried out in fear for their lives.
“Make him pay! Don’t let him live!”
“Despicable man. Die!”
“Kill him!”
“Kill the bandit!”
Kagome blinked, sucked in her breath, her paralysis broken.
“Noooo!” she cried, dropping her burden and running for the burning hut.
“Stop this! What are you doing?!” she screamed, coming up to a heavy set man holding a farming tool high in his hand, dragging on his arm to get his attention.
He scarcely paid her any heed, but he did answer. “We’re giving the bastard bandit what he deserves.” Then he was ignoring her, shouting in malicious joy as the flames shot higher, consumed more of the wooden structure.
This couldn’t be happening, Kagome thought frantically, her wild eyes darting around, looking for some way to put out the flames. There were none.
Eyes settling on the doorway leading into the hut, she saw that the flames had not yet made entry impossible. Without thinking, remembering the flames that had tried to consume her along with her grandmother’s body, she ran towards the opening, but someone grabbed her arms, pulling her back.
“Let me go! I have to save him!”
“What are you doing, you crazy woman? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” roared an unfamiliar, muscular man, shaking her.
“We have to save him,” Kagome pleaded, grabbing onto the stranger, looking up at him with panic filled eyes.
“Are you crazy? Do you have any idea who that man is? He’s a killer! He deserves to die a painfully slow death,” spat the man, who scowled down at her, before confusion crossed his eyes. “Who are you? You are not from around here.”
Ignoring him, she tried to yank free of his grasp, a grasp that turned brutal, painfully tight.
“Onigumo!” she screamed, trying to get to him.
“She’s his wife!” the man holding her bellowed with anger.
He looked around himself, gaining the attention of the villagers around him. “She’s his whore!”
“Let me go!” she cried, trying to get away from his punishing grip.
Others began shouting—at her.
“She’s his wife.”
“His wife”
“Whore!”
“She’s not a miko. No miko would dare marry such an evil man.”
“Kill her!”
“Kill the lying whore!”
Before they could get any closer to her, fire roared out of the open doorway, flashing close to Kagome and the unknown man who held her as they stood too close to the flames.
However, the man was a little in front of her, having moved to keep her contained.
Fire shot out, engulfed his back.
He yelled in shock then pain, his clothes catching fire. Kagome gaped in renewed horror as he released her and ran in mad circles, arms flailing about him the deadly flames raced along his body, over his head, his hair catching fire. His curdling screams were awful to hear.
The other villagers ran away from him when he got too close, afraid to share his fate, but one man wasn’t fast enough. His arm caught fire, and with a shout, he beat at the flames.
As the drama unfolded, other villagers surrounded Kagome, not forgetting who they thought she was—Onigumo’s wife.
A woman picked up a rock, spat, “Stone the bitch!” and threw the rock. The projection hit her left temple, drawing blood, and Kagome almost fell to her knees with a cry of pain.
“Stop! You’ve got it all wrong,” she tried to explain, her arms raised to protect her face, but they wouldn’t listen.
They jeered and scorned her as they picked up more rocks, arms drawn back, ready to throw, to stone her to death.
Kagome had yet to wrap her mind around what was to be a painful death, when self-preservation kicked in, and she cried out for the only man who had ever been there for her to save her from death’s door.
“Sesshomaru!”
Rocks went airborne, and Kagome saw almost in slow motions as they came for her, not realizing rocks came at her from all sides.
Just then, something large dropped from the skies to land just inches before her, and from the corner of her eye, a familiar green beam of light flashed around them, shattering the rocks meant for her.
Panic, fear filled eyes shot up a familiar white and black haori and hakama and gold obi, to crank her neck way back to clash eyes with cool amber. The pupils were shaped like a cat’s, golden eyes, inhuman eyes, regarding her steadily.
“Sesshomaru,” she cried softly, tears in her eyes.
A second later, she was scooped up into his strong arms, and they were airborne, soaring across the sky.
* * *
Forty-five minutes earlier…
Onigumo watched as Kagome left the room, heard her rummage around in another part of the hut before leaving. He sat there, propped up against a crate, his body aching, and his thoughts were centered on the remarkable woman who had just left.
Why was he obsessing over this young woman? Did it matter?
He grinned to himself. No, it didn’t matter.
While she was gone, he decided to amuse himself with how he was going to obtain his new prize.
“Kagome,” he whispered, lost in thought.
“Touching. The bandit who fell in love with a miko,” a snide voice whispered with veiled menace.
Onigumo jumped slightly in surprise, then hissed at his fast, unconscious reaction, as pain from his already throbbing wounds screamed at him louder.
“You seem to be in quite a bit of pain, ningen. Perhaps you shouldn’t move around too much.”
Onigumo turned his head towards the doorway, glaring with pent up fury at finding the white devil at his door, literally.
“I am in this sorry state, no thanks to you,” Onigumo spat, remembering how this demon had tortured him, enjoyed inflicting pain on him. He had a strong desire to return the favor and giving this ethereal beast a slow and painful death.
“You were a means to an end. Your part was unavoidable after you converged on the miko’s village.”
Onigumo gazed at him skeptically. “So I’m supposed to believe you assisted the girl for unselfish reasons, to kill the ‘bad men’? Please,” he sneered, “I am not as gullible as she is.”
“You have outlived your purpose, ningen,” the youkai told him without preamble, taking a threatening stop closer, allowing the sun’s rays from the window to reflect on his inhuman eyes.
Onigumo stiffened.
“I do hope you enjoyed your extra days of life, savored them, for I fear it is about to end,” continued Sesshomaru.
“Come to finish me off have you,” Onigumo replied bravely, refusing to cower in front of this beast. “But I warn you, I do not live here alone—“ he began to bluff, hoping to buy some time, to figure out how he was to get himself out of this mess.
“You refer to the miko, do you not?” interrupted Sesshomaru. “Hiding behind a woman’s skirts, now are you?” he taunted the injured human.
Onigumo blinked, then scowled at his own stupidity. Of course this monster would be aware of who shared the hut with him.
“Unfortunately, the miko will be…delayed,” predicted the Inugami, his mind flashing back to when he had commanded one of his underlings, Jaken, to throw a small human child into the river once the miko had journeyed closer, knowing she would do everything she could to save the little boy. She was so very predictable.
Onigumo froze, his breath suspended for several long seconds before he expelled the air in his lungs with a loud, rough exhalation as he asked gruffly, “What have you done to her?”
Fangs appeared as the youkai smirked at him.
“Answer me, vile beast!”
Instead of answering, Sesshomaru cocked his head, regarding him with unblinking eyes. “Do you really think she could ever return your feelings?”
Onigumo blinked owlishly.
Sesshomaru chuckled darkly. “Oh, yes, I am fully aware of how you regard the girl. Romantic really. A man with a brutal past as a child, who grew up alone and unwanted, only then to be recruited by an army who gave him a choice, kill or be killed. Then comes the innocent miko, your savor to turn you away from your wicked deeds and become a better man, for her.”
Onigumo’s face burned, unable to speak.
Correctly guessing his humiliation, Sesshomaru again chuckled, “Oh yes, I have kept a close eye on the two of you.”
“You’re spying on me?” rumbled Onigumo with barely leashed fury.
“You have something—no, someone—of mine, and I wish her back.”
Something clicked in Onigumo’s brain, a shocking thought that had him muttering in surprise, “You have fallen for her, too.”
It was Sesshomaru’s turn to blink in surprise.
Then he scowled when the human dared laugh uproariously. Sesshomaru growled menacingly, but Onigumo merely returned his angered stare with amused eyes.
“A demon who fell in love with a priestess,” Onigumo mocked the youkai with his own words. “You dare claim she could have nothing to do with me? It’s my belief that you refer to yourself.” Making another wild connection, he continued, saying, “You’re here—wanting to kill me—because you’re jealous. I remember,” Onigumo recalled, “that you wanted her to follow you, but she chose to stay with me.”
“I tire of your prattle,” Sesshomaru said emotionlessly, inwardly howling in anger, knowing this worthless ningen was right. However, a gleam of sinister delight entered his gaze, unnerving Onigumo. “Do you hear them yet?” he murmured.
At Onigumo’s confusion, Sesshomaru smirked, flashing his canines.
“Didn’t you know? I’ve invited the villagers to come and pay their respects to Lord Onigumo, a commander of the bandit forces who have been terrorizing the country side recently.”
It was then that Onigumo heard them, shouts and yells of anger, all directed towards him, and here he lay, helpless and defenseless. Ignoring the smug demon, Onigumo looked about himself, trying desperately to think of a way to get himself out of this mess. No ideas were forthcoming. He was about to die, for those villagers did not sound like they wanted him in some jail cell, waiting for the law to take him off their hands. No, they meant to seek vengeance on him.
“No need to rise and meet them. They won’t be staying. Lie, rest. It will be over quickly,” Sesshomaru said in an almost kind, soothing voice.
Just then, a flaming arrow sailed through the open window and embedded itself in the wall, catching the hut in fire in seconds. Thunks sounded against the hut from outside, and Onigumo knew that more flaming arrows were raining down on the building around him.
They meant to burn him alive, he realized in panic.
Sesshomaru smiled at Onigumo’s desperation. “But not too quickly,” he finished, enjoying the thought of Onigumo dying by fire, a slow and painful death.
Flames licked across the walls surrounding Onigumo, smoke obscuring his vision, making breathing difficult. He coughed violently and yelled at the demon who turned to leave him to this hell. “You think these games will end well for you?! Sooner or later, Kagome will learn of this, learn of your manipulations, and spurn you for the monster you are. You’re a fool if you think you could ever win her over. If you don’t save me now, you’ve already lost her!”
Sesshomaru turned, gazed at him from the corner of his eye, and then turned away from Onigumo, leaving him to die. “Rest in peace, Onigumo,” he mocked before he was gone.
Onigumo’s angered cry howled above the roaring flames, the enraged sound turning into an agonized bellow seconds later.
Sesshomaru felt immense satisfaction at hearing the human’s pain before he dissolved into smoke and rematerialized high up in the sky, away from the elated villagers who cried out in joyous malice as the hut went up in flames.
His anger at Onigumo’s assessment of him and his feelings for the miko dissipated as he continued to hear Onigumo’s tortured cries.
However, a commotion below drew his attention, and he watched the drama unfold as Kagome tried to save Onigumo but was stopped by a brute of a man, who recognized her as Onigumo’s accomplice. He watched with an unfeeling gaze as they shouted incriminations at her and advanced on her with deadly intent.
He allowed her fear and desperation to grow, wanted her to learn a valuable lesson for choosing to go against his decree. However, he couldn’t contain the anticipation that sang through his entire being that soon she would be with him again. All his with no Onigumo to come between them.
Even though he did nothing to stop the rock from hitting the side of her head, he frowned when he saw her obvious pain, the blood that spilled from her wound. Why he cared that she suffered bodily injury, he did not know, but he refused to allow any more harm to come to her. She had learned enough after this.
Before he could move to her side, he was surprised that she called his name for aid. As he moved to intercept the rocks thrown at her vulnerable body, he wondered for a brief second if she had sensed his presence, but that was impossible. He had hid his aura from her. He almost grinned when he realized that she had called out for him instinctively when danger threatened.
Onigumo was wrong. She was already his, whether she realized it yet or not.
He landed before her, used his green whip to disintegrate the missiles aimed at her.
After she whispered his name, gazed up at him with thankful, tear glazed eyes, he felt a swell of satisfaction at her welcome response and picked her up with an arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, and took them to the skies.
He couldn’t hide the demonic gleam in his eyes or smug smirk that graced his lips when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her wet face against his neck, holding him in a desperate grip as if she would never let him go.
She was his, finally back where she belonged—with him—and he would be damned before he allowed another to take her from him. He was far from finished with the little onna.
But all too soon, when she realized that they travelled farther and farther away from the village, she leaned back and shouted, desperation heavy in her cry.
“Wait, Sesshomaru! We have to save Onigumo. I don’t know how, but the villagers found out about his identity. We can’t just let him die like that.”
He cupped the back of her head, returned her face to his neck, and stroked her hair as if he truly cared, and Kagome was too traumatized to realize he was probably playing her like before.
“It’s too late, Kagome,” he answered.
With a muffled cry, she once again clung to him, allowing him to take them far away from a world where seemingly good people changed before her eyes to commit heinous crimes all in the name of revenge. She not only cried for Onigumo’s gruesome end, but for her lost disillusionment.
The world was full of anger and violence, of people killing each other, so she clung to Sesshomaru, hiding her face from the painful reality if only for a little while.