Chapter One:
Vision
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The pain began suddenly, robbing her of breath. She staggered, reaching blindly for the wall, her knees trembling. Head throbbing, nausea rose hard and overwhelming. She covered her mouth, a strangled sound of distress escaping her tightly pressed lips.
Stumbling, she reached out, her shaking hand found solid stone wall.
She leaned heavily, panting hard, her other hand moving to her pounding head as the pain increased, feeling as though jagged edged blades were slowly being driven into her skill and lava was being poured behind her eyes.
She couldn’t scream.
Could barely breathe and the meager strength left in her trembling legs deserted her.
Collapsing in a painful heap, she brought both hands to her head, desperate to stop the excruciating pain, knowing nothing could alleviate the agony.
Her fingers clenched, pulling at silken locks as her body contorted on the hard floor.
Dizziness washed over her, bringing with it shaky weakness and torturous muscle spasms.
It hurt.
Everything hurt...
From the top of her head, down to the tips of her curling toes.
Tears leaked down her feverish cheeks, their moisture cold and uncomfortable against her burning skin.
Taking deep breaths, she forced her body to unfurl from the ball of misery it had become, knowing fighting was a useless endeavor, that resistance would exacerbate and amplify the pain. Slowly, she moved her quivering limbs as straight as she could, letting the spasms rake over her prone body. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the pain intensified to a level beyond endurance, ripping what little air she had from her lungs.
The room spun...
Darkened.....
And then, silence...
Feeling weightless, she let her body relax, the pain gone as suddenly as it arrived. She took a moment to bask in the sweet release from pain, content in that minute to just lie there without care or worry. At ease in her body, her mind was a different story. The momentary distraction of bodily comfort began to drift away, leaving unease in its wake.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Nothingness, an endless void of whiteness greeted her. The vast, overflowing brightness was as familiar as it was terrifying. Having suffered this cursed blessing more times than she could count, she waited a few moments more before moving.
Despite the previous pain being nothing more than a tortuous memory, she moved carefully, cautiously, pushing herself up into a sitting position.
Pausing, she took one last inventory of herself, ensuring all aches, pains and twinges were being kept at bay, at least for these few moments.
Satisfied her body no longer felt as though it were being ripped apart from the inside out, she stood.
The silence was deafening, the colorless landscape stretching as far out as her eyes could see.
The world around her shifted, gravity took over and the sensation of falling brought a flutter to her belly. A small gasp of surprise escaped as she descended. Hair rippling about her face, she let her self go despite the rapid pounding of her heart. The fall lasted mere seconds before her feet gently touched solid ground.
She gazed out at the emptiness around her, the unnatural silence unnerving, bringing with it a distinct feeling of panic. The lack of color disquieting in a way she couldn’t describe. There was no sense of time, no sense of anything. It was...suffocating, disturbing, abnormal.
This place, it always left her feeling agitated and twitchy, as if she couldn’t get out of there fast enough, as if she would be ensnared for an eternity if she stayed too long.
The thought alone left her cold with dread.
If ever she ended up trapped in this place she knew she could quickly and quite easily go insane.
"It would seem fate has once again brought you before me, "said a deep baritone voice, "how fortunate am I to be blessed with such a beautiful sight,"
Shimmering into sight, a dark form began to materialize, breaking the hypnotic effect the void was having on her psyche. She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, thankful to have her fearful thoughts interrupted and forced to the back of her mind.
There was no time to indulge in her own fear, not now.
Turning her attention to the tall male standing a short distance away,
As he floated closer, she took in the familiar form, studying him silently as she waited for him to speak.
He was very handsome, painfully so, as his kind was prone to be more often than not. Long dark hair swept up into a high ponytail, the dark crimson tear drop on his forehead matched the crimson stripes that graced his cheeks. His perfect lips pulled back into a familiar, slightly arrogant smile as her observation moved to his expensive black kimono, and crimson obi. Although there was no design or pattern, none could mistake its high quality, made from the finest silk she had ever seen.
He stood seemingly careless, lean muscles relaxed, but she could feel the stead hum of the tremendous power he kept contained.
He was perfection personified as he approached her with a leisurely gait, confident and strong.
And then there were his eyes, in complete contrast to his dark features, they were a blazing ice blue, piercing and direct. Great wisdom swirled in those clear wintry depths.
They studied her as intently as hers did him, perhaps more so than she.
His slow gaze traveled over her with an intensity that made her feel exposed and vulnerable, unable to hide a single thought with the weight of his gaze leveled on her.
Ignoring her lightly heated cheeks, she smiled slightly in acknowledgment of his earlier words. Always the charmer. Having been on the receiving end of his compliments time and again, she knew it to be nothing more than a friendly, flattering greeting...sometimes.
"How have you fared?" he questioned softly, affection coating his words.
"As well as can be expected. What of you?" she asked.
"I am fine my Lady, as always," he replied.
Katzunami studied the beautiful young woman before him and felt his heart warm.
Curly black hair flowed down her back in soft rippling waves, bright brown eyes filled with warmth and compassion. Full red lips were drawn into her normal shy smile, and her clear porcelain skin looked as soft as silken sheets and made his fingers itch to caress.
Although she was very petite, she lacked nothing in curves, and he ached to explore each and every part of her body.
Yet only in his own fantasies could he do the things he longed to.
She was forbidden to him, as were all mortals or youkai of her plain.
He was but a messenger for the Gods, to go against their will was to bring their very wrath upon his head.
The will of the Gods was something he had never and would never understand.
For a millennium, he'd been at their beck and call, carrying out their orders even while questioning their motives internally. This time was no different. For what purpose did they continue to show these visions of the future to this one woman? Why send her to right the wrongs that had yet to happen? If they were all mighty, all powerful, why did they send others in their stead?
What could possibly bind the free will of a God?
His brow furrowed and a pit of unease took root in his belly.
Feeling a heavy, dark presence in his mind, he pulled away from those complex thoughts. The Gods, while mysterious and often elusive, he knew they watched him...closely.
He’d felt that presence more often than not, even more so when his thoughts contemplated what scheme the Gods concocted, what threads of intrigue they weaved and what, or who, could stop the actions of Gods.
They wanted him left in the dark, watched him intensely to ensure it was so.
He would retire his curiosity.
For now.
As the dark presence slowly retreated from his mind, he focused his energy upon their white surroundings, letting it spread like paint on a blank canvas until the bright background became a dark wasteland.
In seconds, a kaleidoscope of sounds erupted. High pitched screams of pain, low moans of agony and the overwhelming symphony of ungodly beasts wailing in triumph. The horrifying anguish filled the silence, cries that chilled her to the bone. She could feel the intense heat of raging fires against her skin, and the putrid smell of blood and death filled the air.
She gagged, staggering under the intensity of the smell.
Covering her mouth and nose, she closed her eyes to the hideous scene and the heavy smoke from the fire that brought tears to her eyes. For several moments, she stood shaking, struggling to gather herself enough to open her eyes and make sense of what was going on.
Inch by inch, her eye lids lifted.
Looking around through stinging eyes, she easily recognized the wasteland as her once beautiful home in the Northern lands. Her glorious territory turned into a hellacious battlefield.
All around her, her people fought…..and died.
Atrocious, gruesome deaths that turned her stomach and brought bile to her throat.
Vicious, unknown creatures tore them apart. Never in her entire life had she ever seen such beings. These monsters were not youkai, they were something else entirely, something that not even her worse nightmares could conjure up.
They were humanoid but deformed, their towering forms twisted and stooped in painful angles. Their bodies were ravaged, starved, their bones standing out in sharp contrast beneath the thin, wrinkled, leathery looking skin.
Her horrified gaze snapped to their faces.
Two deep gaps where eyes should be were covered by a thin piece of skin, and below a dark hole where the nose should be. Their mouth sat vertical beneath the hole, split open to reveal rows and rows of sharp black teeth. Green acidic saliva dripped from their cracked lips, eating away at the flesh of humans unfortunate enough to be below the beasts.
The humans of her land fell easily to the savage brutes.
It was hard to tell who suffered more, the humans torn to shreds or the youkai that were continuing to fight. Strong enough to be put on even footing with the creatures, they fought and slew many. But as their backs were turned, their attention on saving those that could be saved, a new monster emerged.
Ghostly beings cloaked in shredded hoods latched onto the youkai, seeming to suck the very life from their very bodies, leaving their flesh to blacken and blister.
Glowing red eyes peered out from the darkened hoods of the phantasmal figures as they watched the bodies of the youkai flail wildly about.They watched with gleeful, burning crimson eyes as the youkai flesh cracked, green pus oozing from the tears in their skin, leaving behind a horrendous stench from the seeping wounds and pain a beyond excruciating before moving swiftly to create more victims.
Brown eyes widened in terror as the creatures drifted away, picking up speed as fresh prey moved into their sights. The glowing red eyes burned, cutting through the thick dark smoke as efficiently as beams of light from the sun.
Trembling, she watched as they barreled forward, gray-blue skeletal arms stretched out from the dark cloak, bony hands curved inward like claws. Their eyes brightened, burning like the fiery pits of the darkest Hell as they drew near, their arms twitching feverishly as the first creature reached the unaware youkai.
She startled when Katzunami spoke again, drawing her horror-stricken attention from the scene before the gruesome attack could commence.
“Within hours, their body will begin to decay from the inside out," Katzunami explained, his tone filled with regret, "Within days they will die....a long and painful death."
Shaken, feeling on the verge of passing out, she stared up at the male, uncomprehending of his word for the few moments it took her sluggish brain to function once more.Silent tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks as she turned back to the scenes. She heard him but could not look away from the devastation before her, could not speak.
What could she say in the face of this savagery?
The youkai was screaming now, the wraiths floating over him in a ghastly cloud. Despite their covered visage, she could see the gleam of satisfaction in their illuminated red depths, the merriment in their eyes sickening to her very core.
Sudden weakness brought her to her knees. Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to will it away, hoping against hope that when she opened her eyes again it would all be nothing more than a horrible nightmare, maybe even some cruel trick by the Gods, anything other than this possible reality.
Shutting away the sight didn't silence the sounds.
Shutting away the sight didn't cover up the smell.
It was there, and no amount of wishing it otherwise would change things.
Change would happen only at her hands, by her strength, by her determination to ensure this devastating premonition did not ever come fruition. She had to make sure of that, not only for her sake but for the sake of everyone.
'Stand up,' she thought angrily, desperately at herself.
Her legs felt so heavy, her heart even heavier. Her fists curled, the knuckles turning white. She clenched her delicate jaw tightly, pain stabbing her temples from the pressure.
She'd change this destiny or die trying.
'Stand up!' she tried again.
Katzunami waited silently, wanting nothing more than to lend her his strength, to comfort her, to shelter her in the embrace of his arms. Rooted to the spot, he waited for her to compose herself. The Gods would strike him down should he step out of the bounds of his duties. He could offer her nothing but the comfort of his presence.
How inadequate it made him feel, how utterly useless.
Anger pooled low in his gut, anger at his situation,at having to show her this, at the very Gods themselves for putting him in such a position.
With effort, he curbed his thoughts and feelings from their dangerous path.
Each day it was getting harder and harder to stop these emotions. Resentment for his station and the Gods was blasphemy, he knew that yet the reverence, the respect, the unquestionable loyalty he had once felt for them had begun to wane in the face of the atrocities mortals faced everyday while the Gods sat by seemingly unconcerned and indifferent to their sufferings, intervening only when they grew bored of an eternity of inactivity.
"What…can I do?"
The whispered question snapped him back to reality.
She sat, head bowed, on the floor. Shoulders slumped forward, hair covering her face like a dark curtain, she wiped uselessly at the glittering tears that refused to cease.
"How can I stop this from happening?" she asked hoarsely.
Cursing mentally, he willed her to stand, to not break under the strain of this new threat. It was not like her. It disturbed him greatly to see her so despondent.
"I was not entrusted with that information, if there is a way to avoid this fate it was not made known to me,”
Anger, burning red hot in her veins flared, and he welcomed this show of emotion. Better anger than the overwhelming sorrow she had been displaying. Anger could be channeled, shaped into action, despair was best suited for those who no longer wished to fight, those that wished to roll over and die.
Shakily, she stood, tear stained face scowling, brown eyes spitting fire.
"Then what is the point of showing me this!" she exploded, "What point is this if you’re not here to offer a solution?!"
Striving for calm, relieved that she had not decided to allow anguish to take control, he said softly,
"I am but relaying a message from the Gods. I can reveal only what I am commanded to reveal, this you know. Nothing less, nothing more."
The reminder cooled the worst of her ire. She was angry at the wrong person, knowing he spoke the truth. He was bound, his hands tied by the Gods. He could tell no more than what they allowed him to simply because that was as far as his knowledge extended. The mysterious deities told him precious little.
It had always been thus in her visions, but never had her people been threaten in such a deadly and terrifying way.
What game were the Gods playing?
She took a breath.
"I apologize,” she said softly, “Please, continue."
"I don't know if these events can be avoided. I was only told to warn you of the possible future and steer you in the direction you must go to avoid it. You must find the sword Aman du Rai."
Eyes widening as hope flared she asked, "Where? Where can I find it? What purpose does it serve?"
"I regret that I must disappoint you once more," he said gently, "but I am bound, I can tell you no more than that. You must unlock this mystery for yourself. Fear not for the Gods has sent help in various ways."
Wanting to know more but knowing nothing more would be told, she fumed silently. Never had she felt such helpless fury, it was a feeling she never wanted to experience again. But she'd be damned if she'd let it continue indefinitely.
Come hell or high water, she would find that sword.
"Thank you Lord Katzunami,"
He closed his eyes in relief, and slightly inclined his head, glad to see the fire burning in her eyes. He dispersed his energy, letting the former brightness of nothingness to bleed back into their surroundings, finally removing the death and destruction from their sight and hearing but certainly not from their minds.
"All will be well. The Gods, your people, myself included, have faith in you,"
As his body began to disappear, she felt gravity shift. Tired, and ready for the vision to be over, Kagome allowed herself to fall once more.
~~~~~~~~
Miroku sat waiting with General Rykotsu inside Kagome's study.
She was to meet with the two males to go over the state of the Northern lands as was done once every week, more often if warranted. They were anxious to go over some very disturbing reports coming in from all corners of the land. The Northern lands was far from a utopia, every place had its share of trouble, crimes were committed daily, ranging from petty theft all the way up to high treason, but what was unsettling about the rate of crime over last few years was the increasing volume of transgressions that were homicidal in nature.
Murders in the Northern lands were not scarce, however the number was normally very low, with the majority being solved, the perpetrator captured and punished.
Now, the amount of unsolved murders was growing at an alarming rate. Five years ago, they had not thought anything of the murders, had chalked it up to changing times where people solved their problems with violence but now, after extensive investigation, they were beginning to worry.
The killings were becoming more gruesome, the bodies were beginning to pile up and no one knew where to point the finger.
Fear and panic had begun to rear its ugly head among the people. Angry men unable to protect their families, grieving women wanting answers, and children feared to play outside their homes.
At their wits end, the people were becoming more vocal, pointing fingers at neighbors and suspecting anyone that looked ‘suspicious’ or different.
The situation had become tense and uncomfortable, the unrest felt even here beyond the castle walls.
Perhaps the manner in which the bodies were left was also a strong factor behind the intense unease. Miroku himself had seen the bodies, and just the memory of them was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.
The bodies were unrecognizable, the murderer having butchered its victims.
The killings were brutal and inhumane. Arms, legs, even their genitals were cut from the bodies and thrown about the room as though the killer had played around with their remains after, or worse, during the cruel act.
What was worse was that the killer did not seem to have a preference or discernible modus operandi.
Women, children, the elderly, humans, Youkai, it mattered not; all were killed in some gruesome way or another. With such a wide range of victims and locations there was no way to narrow down suspects, no way to predict who would be next. In light of this frightening development, a team of soldiers had been dispatched three weeks ago to uncover any clues, or hopefully, apprehend any suspects and bring them to the Northern castle for questioning.
The investigating soldiers were due back any day now.
They could only pray the reports they brought would help pinpoint the culprit or culprits; anything to shed some light on this dark and ominous situation.
"Have the investigating soldiers returned?" Miroku asked.
"Nay, they have not," Rykotsu answered, "and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of them as of yet,"
Miroku sat back in his chair, placing a finger to his chin in thought, his brow creased in consternation.
That was definitely not normal.
Punctuality was something that was programmed into their heads during training. Each soldier knew the importance of being on time. Tardiness was only acceptable in three situations.
Death, injury or capture by the enemy.
Knowing this, the absence of the soldiers had him worried.
Speaking of absence, Kagome was still not here; which could only mean one thing. She was having a vision. Seeming to have read his mind, Rykotsu volunteered before he could.
"I'll go," Rykotsu said standing.
Miroku nodded as the male left the room.
He had mixed emotions regarding the contents of this recent vision. Her visions revealed something that would occur in the future, whether it good or bad and he could only hope it turned out to be the former rather than the latter this time.
They couldn't take anymore bad news.
It was ironic, dreading the very thing that had made the Northern lands so prosperous over the last decade. Just a year ago, he had thought the visions were a godsend, a gift. Knowing of danger ahead of time and being able to prepare for that danger gave them a huge advantage over the other three territories. But now, he'd come to rethink their benefit.
Having to deal with the bad of the present day and then to have the problems of the future compounded atop that was a heavy burden for those charged with protecting the Northern lands.
Perhaps knowing of future danger wasn't such an advantage when the warning didn't always come with a solution.
He sighed, placing his head down on the gleaming oak table.
He was getting a headache. There was just too much going on this year; the huge spike in murders, the pressure from the other Lords to meet the Lord of the Northern lands, the villagers lynching each other in a desperate attempt to stop the killer or killers.
Everything was just spinning out of control.
Gentle hands rubbed his shoulders, followed instantly by a tender embrace. A soft bosom pressed into his back. Despite the trouble weighing heavily on his shoulders, Miroku took comfort in the show of affection.
"What's wrong, Miroku?" Sango asked.
"Everything," he mumbled with a pout.
He sat up, loathed to end the embrace but finding comfort in gazing at her beautiful face. Never would he tire of it. Long black hair pulled into to a high ponytail, dazzling brown eyes, a perfect figure, tone from years of training and fighting as a warrior, everything about her made his mouth water.
Miroku was completely head over heels for the woman; had been for some time.
Sango, however, was a hard woman to crack.
Sweet words and a charming smile were not enough to win her over. But damned if he wasn't making progress, the hug evidence of that. She was becoming more comfortable with him, more prone to reaching out and touching him when just six months ago she'd have slapped his face as red as a cherry had he even dared to touch her hand…or other things.
"It will be alright," she said softly, "Whatever is going on, you'll find a solution. You always do,"
Miroku scowled up at her.
"I’m not sure if I can," he negated, standing in agitation.
He paced away, unable to stand still as he ran a frustrated hand through his short black hair.
"There are some serious problems coming to light, Sango. More may come once Kagome gets here and with the state of things now, I have a feeling its going to add to this whole mess,"
Sango sighed and took a seat on the desk.
"Another vision," she guessed.
Miroku nodded shortly.
"Rykotsu has gone to take care of her,"
"I hope it's not more bad news," she said.
"Me neither," Miroku agreed, flopping back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, "but with the way things have been going lately, it's hard not to assume the worse,"
Sango tugged on his small ponytail teasingly, trying to lighten his mood.
"Whatever it is, we’ll deal with. Together. Don't worry so much, you're not alone in this,"
Seeing the sympathy shining in her lovely eyes, Miroku pushed back his angst in pursuit of a temporary stress reliever.
"Ahhh, the stress of it all!" Miroku exclaimed dramatically as he moved over to Sango, his face inches from her own.
Sango reared back in surprise.
"Won't you take away my stress, dearest Sango?" he pleaded, grabbing her hands in his own.
Seeing the sly look in his eyes, Sango raised a twitching brow.
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea what he was going to say next.
"Why by playing a simple game," he said.
"A game?"
"Aye, games and sports are a great stress reliever," he said with feigned seriousness, "It is called, 'Naked Wrestl-'"
Sango brought her hand back and let it fly, smacking Miroku right across the face. The stinging blow echoed through the castle as Miroku fell back in his chair.
"Serves you right," she said as turned and stomped out of the study, brow twitching, face bright red.
Miroku closed his eyes; bring his hand up to his stinging cheek. Touching it softly, he winced and put his hand down. He sighed.
"It was worth the pain," he said to the empty room, a small smile making its way to his lips.
~~~~~~~
Having searched the castle for Kagome and coming up empty, Rykotsu walked down the stairs, heading towards the gardens. It was noon, and some times Kagome would enjoy a quiet moment alone in the secret rose garden she kept tucked away just beyond the other more public gardens.
She was most likely tending to the blue rose garden she had began to raise a month ago.
Kagome's mother use to grow blue roses before her death and had had her own secret garden away from the general public. Though her mother had died before teaching her the secret to creating the blue roses, Kagome had spent the last year and a half figuring out how to create them on her own. Last month she had become successful in recreating her mother's famous blue roses.
He still remembered that day.
He smiled as the memory entered his mind. It had been very warm that particular day. He had been out training the soldiers…..
Rykotsu pushed his sword full force, knocking the soldier back on his butt. The soldier grunted as he hit the ground.
"You've got to stand your ground," Rykotsu informed the soldier.
"Yes, General," the male said struggling to his feet.
The rookie soldier bowed and stumbled off to the other group of rookies standing along the wall. The Northern Army had recruited a large number of new comers this year. Most of them were young, inexperienced youkai and human alike, while some of the more mature and experienced males were looking for a way to make money.
They had all come to the right place. Joining the Army would surely fatten a man's pockets as well as give him privileges that normal villagers did not have, if he was skilled and dedicated enough to survive his first year. Many didn't make it past basic training.
"Alright, who’s next?" Rykotsu asked.
After brief hesitation, another rookie stepped forward, sword in hand. He was a human male, of average height and build, dark hair and eyes, and a handsomely rugged face.
"What's your name?"
"Shinjuki," the man answered.
"Come," Rykotsu invited, holding up his sword defensively.
The male charged, sword raised. Rykotsu gripped his sword tightly as the man's sword crashed down on his own. The sound of clashing metal filled the air.
Pushing the male back, Rykotsu swung his sword, bringing it down hard onto Shinjuki's.
Shinjuki stumbled back a moment before plating a foot and standing his ground. Before he could get his wits about him, Rykotsu was on him again, hammering his sword over and over, pushing the poor rookie backwards towards the wall.
With one last thrust, Rykotsu disarmed the male, pointing the tip of the blade at his jugular.
With his back against the wall and his sword lying on the ground a few feet away, Shinjuki surrendered.
Pulling the sword back, Rykotsu patted the man on the shoulder.
"Good job. You have excellent technique,"
The man bowed.
"Thank you, General Rykotsu," he said before rejoining the others.
"All of you need a lot more work," Rykotsu informed him, sheathing his sword, "First we will start on-"
"Rykotsu!" a voice called.
Rykotsu and the rookies turned as Kagome came running across the training grounds, her deep brown eyes alive with excitement. Not wanting her to cause a scene, Rykotsu turned to the rookies.
"Practice your form, I want them perfected by the time I return," he commanded before turning and walking away.
As he soon as he was within reach, Kagome grabbed his hand and was off.
"Lady Kagome," he grunted in surprise, running to keep up with her, "What is this about?"
"You have to see for yourself! I finally did it!" she exclaimed as she dragged him inside and through the castle.
"Did what?" he asked.
"You'll see!" Kagome said as they continued to run.
Used to her eccentric behavior by now, he followed silently. Servants dived out of the way as the two went crashing through the halls and out the rear doors leading to the gardens. They entered one garden, exited, and entered another.
Finally, she stopped, pointing to a bush near a white gazebo. Rykotsu looked at the bush. Seeing nothing he turned back to Kagome.
"What?" he asked.
Kagome huffed as she walked over to the bush and pushed it open. Rykotsu followed her over and, bending down, he peered into the hole created. Inside, a rose was beginning to bloom, its petals a light blue.
"Blue roses," he said softly.
Kagome smiled, nodding her head vigorously.
He straightened, a smile on his face. Turning to her, he ruffled her hair as he used to do when she was young. He was as proud as any father could be with their child.
" Well done, Kagome," he congratulated gently.
"You think mother would be proud?" she asked looking up at him with a smiling face, black bangs standing on end from his ministrations.
"Aye," he said, "Indeed she would,"
That had only been a month ago. Now, Kagome was planting blue roses like crazy. After the death of her mother, there had been no more blue roses. Now, news of the return of the blue roses had spread fast, and the request were already rolling in far and wide, along with a large number of people begging for the blue rose breeding formula.
Kagome, however, was not willing to share her mother's secret. Instead, she planned to grow them in abundance and distribute them to villagers and others for a profit.
Most of her afternoons were spent tending to the flowers.
He entered the private rose garden and sure enough, there was Kagome. She was lying face down on the ground next to a stone wall near one of the rose bushes.
Kneeling at her side, he gently picked her up and turned her over.
She was unconscious, blood dripping from her nose and mouth.
Carefully, he stood and made his way back to the castle. Hurrying up the stairs to her bedroom, he opened the door and slammed it closed behind him with his foot. Laying her down on the bed he picked up her arm and felt her wrist, looking for signs of life.
Only after finding a strong pulse did he turn and head for her private bathing room.
Having been through this over and over he knew she would be okay, but when she lay there, looking so pale, so lifeless, he couldn't stop the panic that clenched his gut at times. Checking for her pulse had been something he'd been doing since the first time she'd seized up and fallen unconscious at his feet and it was something he would continue to do so until the time the visions stopped.
Inside the room, a large clawed shaped tub gleamed.
Walking over to a low chest, he opened it up and grabbed a bathing cloth and a small wooden bucket. He took both items over to the tub where a pipe made of bamboo dangled over the tube. Kneeling down by the tub he put the bucket under the pipe and pulled the chain next to it. Steaming clear water rushed forward. Once the bucket was full he released the chain.
Taking the water with him back into the bedroom, he sat the bucket on a bedside table and dipped the cloth. He rung out it out and gently wiped the blood from her nose and mouth.
Cleaned up and resting peacefully, Kagome made not a sound.
Gentle fingers brushed back her hair.
His daughter was so special to him. Though not of his blood, she was as much his daughter as any blood father and daughter. He had been taking care of her since the murder of her parents, and over the years, they had grown close. The daughter and father relationship had come naturally.
Even he had not seen this coming, but now that it had, he embraced it, welcomed it with open arms.
She was his daughter, his fiery, short tempered, sweet-hearted daughter, and nothing and no one would ever change that.
Standing, he left her to sleep.
She would be out for a while. A few hours to a few days, it was hard to tell. These visions occurred randomly, and Kagome awoke randomly.
Rykotsu returned to the study where Miroku waited.
Looking at the silent male seated in the chair, he immediately noticed his right cheek was swollen, a big red hand print shining brightly on the abused cheek. He did not even have to detect her scent to know that Sango had been here moments earlier.
Rykotsu sat down next to the male. The two worked in silence, reading and signing documents before Miroku spoke.
"It was worth the pain," he said.
Rykotsu smirked.
Of course it was.
~~~~~~~~
Yuya sat eating his dinner. As usual, his dinner was nothing special really; stale rice and bad meat.
He sighed.
He hated eating this every single day for breakfast, and supper, but it was the only thing the villagers would give him to eat. It was either this or nothing.
The marked child of a condemned female believed to be a worshiper of an enemy of the Gods, Yuya had always lived his life this way. He rarely came out of his hut, fearing ridicule and possible physical harm to his person, and the few times he did the villagers treated him as though he were a diseased animal that, at any moment, would snap and attack.
The older villagers often made up stories about him to scare naughty children that disobeyed their parents and elders, or stayed out past curfew. They told the children that if they continued to be naughty, Yuya the evil spawn of the she-devil from hell that lived in the old hut on the outskirts of town would eat their hearts and send their soul to eternal damnation.
Yuya thought the tales were hurtful and ridiculous. He had no connection to hell, nor had his mother.
True he was an atheist as had been his mother, but that had nothing to do with worshipping the enemy of Gods. The fears of the villagers were born of pure ignorance and fear. There was no reasoning with the people here; they would listen to nothing he said. They were completely convinced that he was a spawn of the devil. Anything that went wrong in the village was his doing. If it rained for too long, that was his doing. If there was no rain for long periods of time, it was his doing. If there were strong winds, that blew down hut roofs, that was his doing.
If a villager was injured, it was his doing. If sickness overcame more than a few villagers, that was his doing as well.
Point being, everything was his fault.
Usually, when he was blamed for such things, he did not really care, but now, with brutal murders occurring in the village, he was actually starting to fear for his life. With a murderer on the loose, and no one else to blame, the villagers were convinced that he was the killer and for once, he was afraid.
Since he had been blamed, things had begun to happen to him, threats had been made. Twice this week alone, the villagers had tried to burn down his hut while he slept. Luckily, he’d heard the mob approaching before the fire could be set to his hut, however, since then; things had slowly been getting out of control.
He was afraid they were going to kill him soon…
He jumped at the sound of banging along the wood frame of his hut. The curtain covering the open doorway opened and a young boy rushed inside.
"Yuya!" he exclaimed.
He recognized the boy as Michigo, probably his only ally in the village.
Michigo was a thirteen year old boy that brought him the stale food from the village and the only one that seemed to have any common sense. The boy did not fear him at all. Whenever he was able to get away without being missed, the two would sit and talk or craft objects from clay. They both were very creative and skillful with their hands.
They usually created animals they had seen or even created different animals; taking parts from one animal and combining it with another.
Their hardened works lined his shelves.
"What is it, Michigo?" Yuya asked setting his bowl of stale rice on the ground.
"The villagers! Their coming, you've got to get out of here before-"
Michigo stopped as the sound of shouting and raise voice filled their ears from outside the hut. A rock crashed through the window, bouncing off the shelf, knocking the clay animals from the wall, shattering them into pieces.
"Get out here murderer!" someone screamed from outside.
"Murderer!"
"Devil worshiper!"
"You've got to get out of here!" Michigo yelled.
Yuya wasted no time. Standing, he ducked out the back door.
He stopped in horror.
Villagers stood before him, nooses, pitch forks and rocks in their hands.
"Ye're gonna pay murderer!" said one of the villagers.
Yuya ran, taking off for the cover of the woods. The crowd ran after him, yelling and tossing rocks after him. Yuya ran fast through the forest, barely feeling the branches and sticks that cut and smacked at his body, nearly tripping several times in his haste.
His heart was pounding his ears, his lungs felt as though they were on fire, his bare feet cut up by rocks and other sharp debris.
Suddenly he tripped, crashing and landing hard on the forest floor. The mob was on him in seconds, punching, kicking, spitting, hurling insults and threats. The beating seemed to go on forever. Every kick, every punch hurt more than the last.
Finally, when he was no longer able to move, the crowd picked him up, carrying him over their heads.
Yuya looked up at the dark sky through swollen eyes. Tears leaked from his puffy eyes.
He was going to die....
He knew that.
The fear he felt was all consuming.
"Leave him alone!" Michigo yelled, tears streaming down his face.
The crowd didn’t even acknowledge him. Frustrated, he pulled on the kimono of one male, not caring as he was dragged along the ground. The villager pushed him away angrily.
"He is a cold blooded killer, boy! Leave well enough alone! He’s gonna pay for his crimes!" the villager cried.
"He is not! He never hurt nobody! You have no proof that he did!" Michigo yelled.
"I will not hear anymore from ye boy!" the man said as he slapped the boy across the ground, "Ye have let the devil whisper in yer ear! He has poisoned yer mind! If ye have any sense ye will leave well enough alone and repent for ye sins!"
That said, the male turned to rejoin the crowd.
Yuya began to struggle, angry that the male had taken his ignorance out on the boy. As he struggled, the crowd lost its grip on him. The breath left his lungs as he crashed hard to the ground.
Yuya swung blindly at the villagers as they came down on him, once more kicking and punching, this time, however, Yuya knocked a few villagers on their asses.
Breaking away from the crowd momentarily, he staggered, away from the mob as fast as his battered body could move.
He did not get very far.
A large villager tackled him to the floor and began to pummel him with his fists. Over and over he punched his face. Yuya could do nothing to defend himself. His hands to his side, he took the angry male's blows. Blood filled his mouth, leaking down his throat. Something hard and small went down his throat with the rushing blood. In the back of his mind he realized it was a tooth from his mouth.
Stars danced before his eyes as another villager pulled the hefty man off of him. He felt himself being picked up and moved once more. His mind screamed at him to move, to fight, to flee, anything, but his body would not move, could not move. The fear set in again, and more tears filled his eyes.
"Nay," he whispered through swollen and bleeding lips.
"NAY!" he screamed at the top of his lungs over and over.
As they neared a large tree he cursed each and every villager. Cursed them, and damned them to the lowest pits of hell, cursed their very souls, cursed their children and their children's children, and their children's children's children.
He had never felt such hatred coursing through his body in his entire life.
Not even when his mother was killed.
He felt it like a living breathing entity. He wished he had been the killer. He wished he HAD slaughtered the people of the village and scattered them across his backyard.
He wanted to kill them.
He wanted to kill them all!
He wanted to see this village and everyone in it burn to the ground for what they had done to him, for what they had done to his mother!
The crowd sat him on his feet. He struggled wildly as they tied his hands behind his back. They held him still as they tied his hands tightly with a rope. The rope chafed, digging into his skin, bruising his wrists. He watched as they tied another rope to a large oak tree, this one with a noose knotted at its base.
A large wooden box was set beneath it. The crowd roughly pushed him over to the tree. He struggled as they pushed the noose over his neck, tightening it.
He spat blood and saliva into their faces.
A final act of hatred on his part.
The hefty male from before reared back and smashed a large meaty fist into his face, momentarily stunning him. As he stood dazed, they hefted his feet up onto the wooden box.
As his mind cleared, he tried to fight again.
It was no use.
This was it for him.
The hefty man kicked the box from beneath his feet.
Michigo wailed while the crowd cheered as the noose pulled on Yuya’s neck and a loud crack echoed through the land, the hanging male’s body convulsing.
Crimson eyes watched from the bushes, white teeth bared in a savage grin.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you all enjoy the story!
Laters!
~Sessakag