AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Word Count: 2,569
SESSHOMARU FROWNED DOWN at the onna who’d fallen asleep in his arms.
He sat with his back against a dilapidated well a few miles from her village, contemplating her.
She was not what he had expected. Was she so unaccustomed to death? Impossible. She was a miko. Yet she’d fallen apart. Not once, but twice now. Perhaps he could understand her fainting spell back at the shrine. He’d been overly…exuberant, massacring those men.
Kagome’s gaze was the deepest brown. The first time he’d peered into them, he knew he would have her.
Perhaps she was weak. The old man, the one who’d died upon Kagome’s return, certainly had a low opinion of the onna, and wouldn’t he know her well enough after living in the same, small village together for years? Enough to blame her for the misfortune that had befallen them.
Utter foolishness.
And yet, he’d been unsurprised when the onna had turned those accusations upon him.
But the fate of her village was of no fault of his. Or hers.
Ridiculous superstitions. Only the arrogance of man could ever believe a kami was at their every beck and call.
Sesshomaru had shrugged away the miko’s reaction to the massacre at the shrine. He’d been certain that this time around she’d be enraged. The bandits had killed everyone, including her elderly kin.
Instead, Kagome’s eyes had glazed over in shock.
He’d tried to shake her free from her numbness, to fuel the spark of hatred that undoubtedly lurked within her heart at her loss.
At once, he knew his mistake.
Instead of anger or a thirst for vengeance, he saw her sorrow, witnessed a baffling innocence at a world filled with cruelty for no other reason than cruelties sake. She was a strange onna, one he sought to understand. Then she’d started crying, silent tears of despair.
He wanted to curse her, to demand for her tears to cease and to give him what he longed for: her capitulation. Her anger. Her bloodlust.
Understanding he would not be getting the reaction he desired from her, he’d done the only thing he could think of. He’d pulled her into his arms, mimicking what he’d seen other ningen do when one of their own wept. He comforted her in a silent embrace. It went against his very nature, but if it would stop her incessant blubbering, he held her all the closer, pressing her face against his chest and stroked the coil of her frizzy braid.
When all she did was cling to him and cry harder, he thought she might be more trouble than she was worth.
When her sobs had finally subsided, Sesshomaru felt her soon drift off in slumber, having exhausted herself. He continued to sit there, holding her to his chest. Not because he wanted to, but to make sure she did not wake and start crying all over him again. The front of his haori was soaked in the salt of her tears, and he did not relish the thought of having to endure more of her human emotions this night.
Let her sleep. Perhaps come morning, she would give him what he wanted. Only when he was certain she would not wake did he move. Rising with languid grace with an arm beneath her knees and the other supported her back, he made sure her head was resting comfortably against his shoulder before he began walking.
With his back turned to the burning remains of her home in the distance, he walked towards the forest just ahead, and entered. He continued on until he came to a large tree. A god tree, he knew the ningen referred to it as. There, he sat amongst its large roots and rested his broad back against the wide trunk, ignoring the roughness of its bark.
Rather than pass the night out in the open, their current position was more secure; though, he didn’t worry of any possible danger. He nearly snorted at the thought. No, he wished only to allow the onna the opportunity to sleep, uninterrupted. Seeing as she wore only a simple sleeping yukata, he kept her close to keep her warm. He’d even removed her sandals, where they’d been discarded amongst the god tree’s roots.
When she woke, things would be different.
He’d done things her way, but now her village was gone. Her loss did not negate their contract.
Sesshomaru stared down at her.
Her tears had left a clear path down her soot-stained face. He’d witnessed many tears over the centuries. Tears of those in pain, the fearful, the dying, from those begging for mercy. So many tears, and not a one had ever moved him. Not even hers. Such a display was contemptible, no matter the reason behind them.
She was weak.
How often would he be pressed to provide such comfort? It wasn’t that he minded holding her close, but he would much rather it be for a more intimate exchange.
Such thoughts lead to the morning to come. No more tears. He’d make sure of it by stoking the embers of her anger. Her village’s destruction played right into his plans.
He’d awaken the darkness inside this miko, and revel in it together. Then he’d leave her. Perhaps he should kill her instead? Once he’d proven to her that her self-righteousness was nothing more than a conceited lie, perhaps he should go a step further in this tangled web they played. After she’d given him everything, her body, her soul, did he not then own her life? Would it not then be his for the taking of?
He smiled was pure malice as he leaned down, nuzzling against her temple.
Tomorrow, she would ask him to kill for her. Never was there a more beautiful sight than seeing the seemingly innocent turn from the light and embrace the darkness within themselves.
THE ONNA WOKE with a terrified gasp. Her heart pounded, her breath erratic, while her eyes darted around.
By the wild look, Sesshomaru guessed she did not see what was around her but saw inward, to whatever nightmares chased her to wakefulness.
Not requiring the sleep, he’d instead watched the onna, noting each time she was gripped by nightmares. She’d flinch in her sleep or release a small cry of a wounded animal. More than once, she’d curled into his chest, seeking comfort unknowingly from her dreams. She’d calm, as though his nearness soothed her. Did she know, on some primal level, who held her? Or did she seek comfort indiscriminately?
Or…was there someone else she dreamed of? A man, perhaps? His lips turned down, displeased by the notion.
Her fearful whimpers still echoed in his ears, but he had done nothing to save her from her nightmares, wanting her to remember even in her dreams all that had been taken from her, to build her anger, the need to see blood spilled when she finally woke.
Last night, she’ d been too traumatized, too broken to do anything other than weep. Today would be different, filled with the blood and cries of her dying enemies.
Focusing her attention on him rather than the images he could tell where playing behind her open eyes, he called to her. “Aijin.”
He felt her start against him before she jerking back to stare up at him, fearful. For a moment, there was no recognition in her gaze, but then she did. With a small sob, she launched herself at him. Arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into his back, he felt her moist breath against his throat—scented her tears.
Sesshomaru’s felt his eyes go wide at her actions, before dread pooled in his stomach as he tightened his arms around her back. He held her gently when she started to tremble against him.
She was crying. Again! He wanted her angry, dammit.
Reigning back his annoyance, he turned his head to press his lips against her ear, murmuring a compelling compulsion. “Are you remembering, Kagome?” Her name, an intimacy he used against her.
She nodded mutely, rubbing her face against his neck.
Encouraged that she was listening, he continued. “Do you remember the fire? How it consumed everything in its path.” Her whimper was answer enough. “Can you hear them? The screams of the fearful, of those in pain. From the dying. How their murderers laughed as they cut down everyone you once knew?”
“Stop,” she implored softly, her hold on him slackened, but she did not withdraw, not yet.
He ignored her. “Do you want them to pay?”
His body thickened in want. He couldn’t deny that the thought of her asking him to kill for her, to use him to exact her revenge, called to his dark nature. To bask in the blood of her enemies before lying her down to rut was a temptation beyond bearing, yet he waited, inwardly pleading, demanding that she give in.
The onna tried to pull away, but Sesshomaru wouldn’t let her. He cupped the back of her head and pressed her face against his throat.
Her words were a rejection he didn’t want to hear. “Let me go, Sesshomaru.”
Sesshomaru’s hold tightened, refusing her. Cravings bombarding him, his voice was a harsh rasp. “They killed everyone, your grandmother included, and burned your village to the ground.”
“No more.” Her small hands pressed against his chest, trying to shove him away, but her paltry strength could not move him.
“Do you think it was unintentional? Some kind of accident?” he demanded of her in a fierce whisper, refusing to let her put space between their bodies. He liked her close, wanted her closer. “Those men knew what they were doing. You cannot deny the destruction they have caused. They took everything from you. Your home. Your family,” he repeated, thinking perhaps she hadn’t understood the first time.
“Enough!” Her shout blasted his eardrums uncomfortably.
She was angry. He smirked. Now they were getting somewhere. “You’re all alone in this world, because of them.”
He felt her stiffen. Finally, she stopped struggling against him. He pressed harder; though, his offer was spoken gently, coaxing. “They deserve to pay, to suffer as you now suffer.” Almost comforting, he stroked her hair and back, his nose nuzzling behind her ear. “It’s alright to hate them, Kagome. To want them dead for what they have done. Embrace the pain, the anger. I will kill them for you. You don’t have to.”
Yet, he added silently. One day soon, she would kill with him.
But not this time. She would learn. He would be her guide in decedent darkness.
Since she wasn’t fighting him any longer, he leaned back and cupped her left cheek in his large palm, meeting her tormented gaze. There was sadness and anger there. The last quickened his blood. “Let me help you.”
“What would their deaths accomplish?” Her question surprised him. “Will Kaede come back to life, or any of the others? Or are their deaths supposed to fill the void they’d caused inside me?” She shook her head. “Killing them would accomplish only one thing. More blood, more senseless death. I have nothing, and killing them—or having them killed—won’t change that.”
Without warning, Sesshomaru stood with her in his arms and flew through the air back to her village, ignoring her cry of alarm. Beneath his feet, a cloud had formed, carrying them through the sky. He landed in the middle of the destroyed village, small fires still eating away at the embers of what remained. The bandits had left the bodies to rot where they’d fallen, allowing the birds and animals to feed on their corpses.
He set Kagome down and demanded, “Look.” Perhaps she needed a visual reminder of the destruction that had occurred last night.
When she tried to avert her gaze, he pressed up against her back and cupped her face from behind, making her see. “Look! See what they have done. Do you think they deserve to continue living after all the pain and sorrow they have caused you? To others? Have you never heard the saying, ‘what goes around, comes around’?”
“Stop it!” Fury saturated her voice. Only then did he realize her enmity was directed towards him. She tried to wrench away from him, but he crossed his arms over her breasts, his hands holding onto her shoulders as he kept her against his body.
Let her detest him, he thought angrily, for he abhorred her.
“Where is your anger?” he demanded. “You cry, yet you do nothing to avenge the dead!” Was she a coward? No, he had assured her that he would do her dirty work for her. He didn’t understand her. “Why did you hesitate?”
Panting heavily, he waited in silence as he stared down at her, watching as she glanced around at the destruction.
“I am angry.” At the soft admission, she slumped against him, no longer fighting to get away.
Sesshomaru blinked, surprised. He thought he’d failed to entice her into violence. He grinned. He hadn’t been mistaken. Of course, she desired revenge. Who wouldn’t in her stead? He opened his mouth, but her words cut off his own.
“I am angry,” she repeated. “But killing them will not make me feel better.”
His arms slacked around her, and she was swift to step away from him. She didn’t go far, only a single step. This close, she was forced to tilt her head far back to meet his gaze. He frowned down at her, realizing what she was saying, liking it not one bit.
Her gaze implored him, more compelling than her words. “But there is one thing that will. My sister. I have to find Kikyo. She was in the neighboring village when it was attacked the day before. Captives were taken. She might be among them. If she’s alive, if they have her, I have to save her.” She lifted her small hands and clenched them into his haori. “Help me find her. Help me save her. I can’t do it alone. There’s too many of them. I need you. Please, Sesshomaru.”
He didn’t move or speak for several seconds, his eyes never leaving hers. He saw a glimmer of doubt enter her own, then despair, attributing his silence as refusal. When she would have released him, he wrapped his much larger palms around the backs of her hands. He leaned down closer to her.
“I will help you.” Hope and gratitude metamorphosized her face. When she opened her mouth to speak, he spoke before she could. “However, I will be teaching you the pleasure of revenge.”
She tried to draw back, shaking her head, but he tightened his hands around hers, forcing her to continue holding onto his clothes. “Have you forgotten our contract? You have agreed to cooperate in my attempts to corrupt your soul. You have never tasted the pleasure of vengeance, and I will see to it that you do. I shall show you by killing every one of those bandits, and you are going to watch me. Then, you will know for a certainty the ones who have caused you such pain are gone from this world.”
Kagome didn’t speak, only stared up at him with a bleak sort of horror, while dark anticipation thrummed through him.
Soon, she would understand the merits of revenge—and thank him.