Fear Is Unbecoming: Slaughter of the Silent Lambs

Kagome walked through the shaded path in the forest surrounding her home and Sunset Shrine, otherwise known as Inuyasha’s Forest. She knew she had nothing to fear and felt at peace as she looked to the shrouded skies, flaring with hues of violet, rose and cerulean. As she trailed her calloused fingers across the firm, supple flesh of the ancient trees of whose verdant leaves seemed to sway at her touch. This forest was hers and hers alone. After all, Inuyasha left it to her and she would not let anyone sully his last gift to her. An intense pang of sorrow, grief and regret swarmed though her heart but like all the other times, it faded into a constant dull ache of remembrance instead and she merely spoke out loud the vow of a lifetime.

“I, daughter of the holy bloodlines, sister to the wolves, mother of the fallen, forsaken and alone, lover of the earth, keeper of the past & guardian to the future vow to live a life of my own--no savior of prophecy, no tool of fate, no chosen of the damned. Let me be at peace with my beginning and let my end come in due time. For the lives unsought and loves unknown, I vow to be nothing less than who and what I am or must be to survive.” Of course, no one said anyone would be able to understand what she said for Kagome spoke in a mix of the ancient tongues of youkai and human.

Sesshoumaru taught her that little trick, reluctantly but necessarily. It was unwise to speak of their plans for battle when there were spies everywhere, in the shadows, under the rocks, hell, even above them in the seemingly harmless, innocent-looking squirrels munching on tasty nuts in the trees.

There was a restless ness in the winds that caressed her face and the scars along her arms, her legs and wherever else a youkai’s claws or a human’s sword may have pierced her. A miko who chose to not only befriend a demon, or worse a hanyou--a half demon, would never be accepted by either races. Then to further cause isolation would be the fact that she was the so-called reincarnation of another miko who was once the protector of the Shikon no Tama or the Jewel of Four Souls, though it remains to be seen if they truly are connected in such a way or if it was the morbid sense of humor fate holds that made her look so similar to Kikyo in the eyes of others. Lastly, she was a woman independent of the time and one who would not bow to another unless they had earned her respect, even at the risk of her sanity.

Some would call the reckless pride or simply stubborn, but when was anything ever simple? To Kagome, she could never bow to anyone who had not earned her respect because she would not compromise her ideals for circumstance nor would she willfully submit to one who sought her for power, pleasure or destruction. She never forgot what it was like to be different and the only reason she had been surprised by the centipede demon was the fact that she had only dealt with mostly small youkai who were either physically weak or spiritually inexperienced. She was taught the family scrolls on holy powers, youkai, the history between the three races of youkai, ningen and reikai, how to defend and attack, everything and more a miko needed to know to survive thought the need for miko, themselves, had diminished over time. She was given basic knowledge on the bow, swords, spear and the shadow arts--the ways of the ninja. She knew what to do to survive and she would do whatever she had to.

When she was dragged into the past, she was so overwhelmed by her newly bestowed duty as the miko of Kaede-sama’s village, her natural inclination to protect and provide, and her obligation to collect the shards of the Shikon no Tama that she could do nothing but follow her instincts and deal with a power she thought would always lay dormant within her until the day it was passed on to her child as any holy power is if it was not used at all. It was too late to change the opinions of the villagers or Inuyasha or Sango or Miroku or anyone who mattered that she wasn’t as unknowledgeable as she seemed to be or acted like, so she was only able to show her true potential at the End. At the final battle between her and her friends and Naraku.

She could not help the grinding of her teeth or the automatic tightening of her lips, a half-snarl, half-grimace that did not convey all of her unkind thoughts on such a heinous being. He was the ancient enemy of humanity; he was her mortal enemy; he was everything she fought against and hoped never to become as time passed. He was simply evil and she was simply good--in the most basic of terms only.

They both knew there were a part, even parts of themselves that they neither wanted nor cared for. He could not stand for the existence of Onigumi still within him, the human who gave his soul to thousands upon thousands of demons for the woman he desired and ultimately lost, because that would be a mark of weakness. It would be proof that he could be defeated and hurt and that was wrong, so wrong. He was a powerful youkai, though he held the illusion of a human, and he did not like weaknesses.

‘No one did. Not even monsters, but was he really a monster?’ This thought had dropped in unannounced more than once when she was thinking deeply about something and it was unwanted as well. Naraku was a bastard, that was established on their first meeting and was not forgotten as he continued to commit murders, scheming and anything else that stank of suffering. He could care less about anyone else, even his own ‘children’, if you could call them that.

Kagura, the wind youkai, was his first child and he held her heart, literally, in his hands as he ordered her to do evil. She was his prisoner, they learned later on, more than his devoted follower. But she was not the helpless, innocent victim either. No, she knew what she was doing and she didn’t mind it, she even like it at times. Kagome saw and felt her satisfaction when she killed, be they deserving of their death or not. Kagura liked to kill and she would probably kill whether she was a prisoner or not, but Kagome also knew that Kagura felt pain, regret and even love. Kagome knew the youkai wanted to be free and thought that perhaps, if Kagura had been raised as a cherished daughter that she might have turned out a little differently.

Kanna, his second daughter, was a soul stealer and looked as if she was the pampered, sheltered little princess of some daimyo. She was far from sheltered or pampered, however, as she was a haunting presence on the battlefields either covered in blood or the agonized echoes of anyone unfortunate enough to be reflected within the mirror she always carried. Her eyes, like the mirror, always reflected others and never seemed to hold anything but an emptiness so void of thought that they were a horror to stare into. Strangely, there was an aura of innocence around the girl as well, one that didn’t fade away no matter what she saw and Kagome somehow understood, at least, one thing about the girl. Kanna didn’t realize that stealing souls were bad or that she was evil, Kagome didn’t think she knew what the word evil meant. And this was one of the reasons why she could not hate Kagura or Kanna or any of Naraku’s other ‘children’ for what they were, not fully. She would always know, that deep within their hearts, they were just children.

‘Just children. So why do they always stare back at you with eyes so beaten and lusting for death--of any kind?’ Kagome never really tried to find out because she knew the answer would make her cry for days on end and become too angry at Naraku to think properly. And Kagome?

Before, she desperately wanted to deny ever having the possibility of becoming a dark miko or just dark in one form or another, but she was older now, seen more, knew more and accepted harsh truths she’d rather not. There was a part of her that wanted to live selfishly, not that living for yourself was so selfish but to ignore all else in the pursuit for happiness was definitely selfish and she tried so hard not to be. There were some things, however, that would not be denied. Her love for one. She loved Inuyasha with an alarming surge of longing and affection that she only relented and let him go to Kikyo because he loved her and not Kagome, but the heart didn’t understand respect or heed warnings. And she knew now that if anyone dared to harm the people she loved or protected that she would stop at nothing to make them pay in blood, no one hurt the people she cared for and got away with it. No one.

Sometimes, in the darkness of late nights, she imagined the different ways she would torture and maybe even kill if she was pushed too far…she would think about the flesh rotting away from the inside out, the eyes partially gouged out but still able to see just enough to know when it was time for fresh scars, to hear the agonized screams of her enemies as they were torn out and messily put back together to form some kind of Frankenstein she could play around with for the fun of it. These thoughts, malicious and scathing, were her secret, dark, deepest desires. They were the wishes of psychopaths and killers and evil and…Naraku. She was exactly like him when it came to retribution and vengeance, which is why she didn’t hold back when she let loose her final arrow and allowed herself to indulge in a smile of dark satisfaction at his suffering in the swift second before death caught his soul in a firm grip in the form of Inuyasha’s swing of his Tetsusaiga.

The only difference between her and Naraku was that she chose to be the willing martyr while he chose to be the sadistic villain waiting for the hand that would slay him willingly because all forms of evil are destroyed in time, though never vanquished for it shall always find a heart to steal, a body to posses and a soul to corrupt.

Having these not so happy-go-lucky thoughts spiraling through her head in an unending chain of ifs, buts and maybes would drive anyone crazy, so she decided to stop being so introspective for the rest of the day until her head was clearer and her heart more guarded to understand what she was thinking. She could never think so clearly this early in the morning anyway, though she didn’t mind the beautiful skies or the calm feel of the forest.

As she focused more on her surroundings, she realized that the forest was way too peaceful because there was absolutely no sound at all; no lovely morning songs from the chirpiest birds she had ever heard, no slow slithering of a curious grass snake, no rustling of the leaves. Nothing. Nothing but the unnatural wind pulsing with power and an unknown scent carried with it, not bad but not sweet like kaki either. It was like the sweet aroma of the milkiest chocolate mixed with the bite of an unripe raspberry and with the underlying hint of rotting flesh. And Kagome was around enough battlefields and lower level youkai to know how that smelled like, more than she had ever wanted to.

Kagome relished the memories of all her adventures, her schooling, her family, friends and her one great love. She sat in a meadow and waited for whatever was to come, the restlessness she felt in the wind was now raging and struck a high-pitched wailing that she heard only because she was forced to improve her senses or be at a disadvantage against a youkai. She sensed the dormant spirits of the forest, of this ancient battleground, awakening and crying out for peace; the energies swirling about in the forest was disturbing their rest, so strong that it was crossing the spiritual boundaries to force the souls of the past to seek an end to their pain anyway they can. Which meant that they came to her because she could easily put them to rest with a few blessings, combined with her power and they would return to the spirit world or wherever it is they came from.

To pass the time she took out a sheet of paper with a poem she had started when she first felt more than deep friendship for Inuyasha until the day of the last battle, the blazing path of her holy arrow descending with a frightening certainty into Naraku’s heart when the last lines of the poem came to her in a startlingly clear and disturbing moment. She only read certain lines from it because it was so long and full of bittersweet memories that she didn’t want to remember in detail. And she didn’t come to the forest to mourn the past, she came to let go of it.

I don’t know what you want

I don’t know what you need

But you’d better let me go

Or I fear that I will bleed

Yes, it was torture trying not to anger Inuyasha but unwilling to so easily submit to his will. He always thought he was right, that he was strong even when it was glaringly obvious he was not. And she knew somewhere in her love-sick heart that he would cause her pain. Inuyasha didn’t mince words for anybody, save Kikyo.

Don’t you see my eyes?

They hope to kiss the skies Goodbye

But you never seem to realize

That I’m waiting to fall

He never bothered to ask if she wanted something out of the quest for the Shikon no Tama, he never asked what she wanted to wish for. It was as if she was nothing more than the shard detector to him and that made her distrust her worth as a woman, but more importantly as a person. He never understood that she was standing on the edge of a great frozen lake just waiting for that final push to land on the thin ice and drown in coldness. But Naraku knew. The only one who knew, who understood was her greatest enemy--how pathetic was that?

All they ever ask is

Why won’t that girl just let go?

But how can I do that--

If there’s no one who really wants to know?

Sango, strong and smart and far more experienced than Kagome ever was would still not be able to understand Kagome entirely because she didn’t live through the Sengoku Jidai with only her wits, instincts and half-remembered history lessons. Sango was trained and a veteran of battles. Kagome was only ever taught the theories because she never showed any true potential and there was really no possibility of some ancient youkai seen it fit to cross the boundaries between the three worlds just to wipe out an entire line of holy women and men when they weren’t even actively hunting them down, especially since it was more than just difficult to cross them. It was damn near impossible.

I could care less about others

When I have always been on the outside

Always.

‘ Don’t talk to me.’

Merciless grade-school kids knowing exactly what they are saying

Kikuta-kun and his little minions, much like Naraku that one.

‘ Why are you here?'

Strangers who assume and never think to ask ‘why not?’

Who ever said it was better to deal with the devil you knew than the devil you didn’t?

‘ You really are an idiot.’

The reason why I dream of running far and sleeping forever

Cruel words from a cruel-fated hanyou.

‘ Don’t be a coward.'

A demand from careless lips when one knows not my situation

Sometimes she wondered what she ever saw in him and tried to remember the reasons why she stayed by his side because she forgot sometimes when he was overtly harsh or indifferent or simply ignorant. And then she remembered and that was that.

All seek to explain me

All desire to label me

But none will ever understand the things I do

It would be a very cold day in Hell when someone would truly understand Kagome’s mind as well as their own.

Because I am the only one of my kind

Kagome did have a natural desire to protect the helpless, poor and anyone else who needed or wanted help, but she wouldn’t so far to say she would go to the ends of the world for a stranger, not even one who pulled at her heartstrings. Especially one who pulled at her heartstrings because that put too much energy into something that could very well turn out to be a dead end with no path back to the beginning. Nothing but the end before you, endless and gaping.

There was one time when she thought that everything was rainbows and sunshine, ice cream and cool waters of the crystal sea, everything seemed so much brighter when she was a child. So bright that it blinded her from the reality of being different, of being whatever the hell she was back then because she never noticed the glaring, accusing stares from her cousins and she didn’t see the sneering mouths of the neighbors across the street or the shudders that wracked the elderly as she neared them. Until that day when she was forced to see that being who she was might not be so great, not so safe as she had always thought…

And I never knew true despair

Until I’d found a place for me

Only to watch as it was returned to the Earth

Yes, father, ever faithful and kind and strong took the blows meant for her flesh and wasted away in her place. Because she was the One, the One who had potential and the one who was different. Her mother, grandfather, brother and other members of the family believed in the old ways, the honor her family was once known for but not all. Not all. They came at her with sharp, shiny things she had only ever seen in movies she were never meant to see or understand, but in that moment when his eyes--resigned to his fate, eager even to die for her because he, too, believed she had potential--when his eyes sought hers unflinchingly and dared her to turn away, she knew then what was going to happen. Knew that this was all her fault, felt the guilt of a thousand clawing youkai tear at her flesh though not a cut marred her. It was all in her head really, the physical pain , but the one thing she didn’t make up was his sacrifice, his blood literally on her hands and face and hair. So much…it was too much.

If you ever had to see

The snarls behind the smiles

Or the tears within,

Would you be so strong

So fearless of this world?

Miroku was so strong and wise, but did he, for all his wandering and studying, really knew what it meant to be fearless? To be the willow dancing the dance of the wind until the wind faded away and the willow was left alone? Kagome didn’t want to know the answer--no, she already knew the answer to that miserably sobering question. Miroku lost his father to a curse passed from father to child, he had to watch as his father was swallowed up by the vortex within his hand; his father unwilling to let Miroku die with him, he fled, not quite fast enough and died alone. Just like Kagome’s father who, though did not run from her, died as she watched him be slaughtered by fearful relatives who wanted someone with holy powers, like Kagome, that could awaken to be “taken care of” before she was too strong to be stopped. So yes, Miroku was strong but so was she.

You told me not to bother

Being what I wasn’t meant to be

But don’t you understand

That no one is meant to be

Anything they don’t try to be?

Inuyasha, Naraku, Kikyo, even Sesshoumaru who didn’t really care about her at all told her not to try so hard, not to act like what she wasn’t. They all told her that she was weak or stupid or childish or inexperienced--what did it matter so long as it struck her down? Still, she knew that she was trying her best because you were nothing if you didn’t try, nothing because it takes effort and practice, not just talent or instinct, to survive--to live.

I’m screaming out loud

Where no one will ever hear

But still I hope that someone stumbles by…

Are your demons so loud that you hear nothing?

She had been prepared to accept her lot in life: Kagome the faithful, Kagome the miko, Kagome the sacrifice, Kagome the weeping, Kagome the blind even but not Kagome the weak. Did they all really think she was just going to watch them train so hard every day and fight for their lives without having the urge to help them? To fight alongside them? They all knew she was inexperienced, that she did not know this world, this time, as well as her own and was expectedly having difficulty adjusting to it but they went further and simply assumed that she would do nothing to change that or if they asked it of her that she would refuse.

Of course, she spoke of her deepest thoughts to no one, at least, to no one in particular; there were words to a friend, an ally, hell, even her enemies sometimes but those same words were meaningless unless they were strung together in some coherent chain of metallic flavor. Her heart was the only one who knew her thoughts completely and that was only most of the time--when it was blinded by infatuation, jealousy, grief or anger, thoughts would become tangled in the trivialities of life and answers would be lost in the eye of the storm. Her lips were silent when she should have spoken up and told the truth, her truth, about everything but she didn’t and there would be no more chances now. Still, she had hoped…wished…for someone to hear the screams inside. But it was too late, too late for anything, too late for words unspoken, for actions untaken, for love that never bloomed and lives lost.

And then she sat in a scene from a fairy tale: candy green grass, violet, pink, purple-colored skies, strong ancient trees and the warmth of the sun shrouding her in a token of innocence--contemplating the ways in which fate would cruelly twist her life into some morbidly humorous play only the gods would understand. It was inevitable. Something was coming. Or someone. It, he, she, whatever--was coming and it was powerful enough to awaken the blessed spirits of this forest. Spirits that had been resting since their passing, for this forest was protected by Kagome’s own houki energy, the power of the Goshimbuko and the blood of the fallen.

For every word spoken in unguarded spite

For every thought unwise to hold

There will be a consequence for the silence that should not be

And there will be passion as bitter as the desert rains

Tempests as vicious as scorn

Warmth as insubstantial as the words that fall from a lover’s lips

It was here. And--‘What…?No, no, no, no!!

For the End is near

And she wanted it gone. ‘After everything, this is the End? Kami-sama, you are too cruel.’

“For the End is near.” Her voice--hoarse, almost broken, the trailing thoughts of her grief gently carrying all that was unspoken, sounded unmistakably throughout the meadow. Her eyes--bloodshot, shimmering with emotions too varied and numerous to be sure of barely revealed themselves for the overshadowing presence of numb disbelief, closed in harsh, desperate denial…and how she wished the tears would fall, heavy and wet and true. How she wanted it to know she was human, that she felt more than her eighteen years of age should allow.

Fury was clawing its way out from its gilded cage just to the side of her wavering conscious; her mind struggling to understand what her heart was already weeping, screaming, demanding vengeance for; her body yearning to strike it for its audacity, for its stupidity; her soul finally having found the perfect outlet for all its miseries, she could hardly contain the instinctive call to defend what was rightfully hers to defend at last, what she had fought for so hard for, lost so much blood for, so damn much. She should not have been able to speak for all the weight that threatened overwhelm her, but she did and her words fluttered, shuttered into the quietly, menacing silence from its arrival.

“The End for you and me.

The End of all eternal things

The End of love and hate and stupidity

The End of memories long past

Of souls--”

But then, at last, her voice faded, hissed, started again hopelessly, then achingly, slowly, broke and she could speak no more. The lines continued in the fortress of her mind: Now open, her eyes were empty of humanity, her body immobile, her heart of stone and fire…she was done.

Too far in the abyss to ever reach out a searching hand

The End of hopeless aid

Of naïve, smothering kindness

She was done pretending she was okay with Miroku, Sango, Kaede-sama, little Shippo, Inuyasha, even Sesshoumaru dead or somewhere far from her reach. She was done smiling that stupid, sweet smile of the martyrs. She was done wallowing in memories, in horror of everything that happened back then. She was done, dammit, and it had ruined the last slim hope she had to let go of the past, of them, of him.

And the End is here

She looked at what was so terribly, terribly wrong with the picturesque scene: Virgin white, radiant Chrysanthemums embraced a weathered, moss-covered stone that was littered with etchings, words that were illegible now after five hundred years past. She looked at his grave drenched in a slick, familiar liquid as the stone shattered upon impact from the raging wind that suddenly struck it with the force of nature, as blood rained from the darkened skies. She looked at the cursing, blade-wielding maniacs who had dared to interrupt her chance to say goodbye, who had, who had…A wailing, angered roar tore the silence to shrouds in its vengeance and she vaguely realized it was coming from her own throat. How could it, how could it--they do this to her?

To torment

To bless

To will away

Everything in its path

For this is our chosen fate

And this is our chosen End

How could they destroy Inuyasha’s grave?

--

AN: This is a three anime crossover of Inuyasha, Naruto and Yu Yu Hakusho but for those readers who don’t like to see the plot lines messed up--don’t worry about it! I’ll only use Yu Yu Hakusho for the whole barrier between the worlds thing which Kagome did not do in my story and Naruto and Inuyasha is going to be the main interaction between the animes, okay? Though I don’t know how this turned out, I already have an idea of what I want to happen in the next chapter so I’ll get that up in maybe one, two weeks. Though its definitely not a promise; I have to make up a lot of work. Kami, I’m such an idiot! Anyway, review so I know how this turned out and, well, I just like reviews, too!