Undeserving

Chapter One

Mood Music: Cave, by Muse

Inuyasha was restless, his face chiseled in a frown the likes of which most would consider detrimental to his health it was so intense. This frown had found its home between Inuyasha’s eyebrows and it twisted along the line of his mouth. It had been there, comfortably expressing his stress, since night had fallen and he’d gone off on his own, away from Kagome but still within her barrier.

He stayed within her barrier because if he didn’t his chances of dieing this night would jump up by about fifty percent.

This night was the night of the new moon, and although Naraku had been destroyed, the jewel as well, Inuyasha never felt safe when his body changed into that of a human. It hurt his pride, as well, to feel so weak.

So, mustering as much of his damaged pride as he could, Inuyasha would set off on his own at every night of the new moon. It had been this way since he and Kagome had started traveling together, alone. She was strong now, like Kikyo, and she didn’t depend on him near as much as she used to. He pushed down any guilt he might feel for leaving her. He would be nothing more than a burden in a fight anyway, so his guilt was misplaced.

Inuyasha fumed silently within the trees, where he sat at the base of one because he couldn’t very well make it onto a high branch like he normally would. Things were quiet around him, but not unnaturally quiet, and he let his mind wander back over his worries.

Kikyo had disappeared, and with her had gone Kagome’s jealousy, which only resurfaced at her every mention and trace. Kagome tried to play it down, to understand that he just couldn’t forget about her, no matter how much he tried, but she didn’t pretend that the feeling wasn’t there. She didn’t pretend that it didn’t hurt her to realize she would never have his full heart. Not as long as Kikyo stayed a memory that might just be more than that still.

Inuyasha grumbled slightly at his idle mind’s choice of thoughts, and pushed up from the ground.

He was going to find a stream somewhere, dunk his head in, and maybe rid himself of these thoughts for a while.

--

His hair now sufficiently drenched, his mind clouded over with nothing but, “Fucking cold, damnit! Why the hell did I do that?” Inuyasha leaned back against a trunk of another tree and looked up at the moonless sky with a slight frown, his eyes solemn.

Then, swerving over his eyesight so fast that he hardly noticed it, a soul collector swooped through the air gracefully, giving off its chilling, eerie cry.

Inuyasha jumped up, remembered his inability, and then cursed the new moon. Looking around quickly, Inuyasha inwardly shrugged off the burden of his weakened state and began to run, making his way as best he could through the fairly thin trees. He listened intently, mildly surprised when he could still hear the soul collector, enabling him to follow it by sound to Kikyo.

He paused at that thought—if he could still hear it, if it was traveling slow enough for him to follow, this wasn’t a chance incident. Kikyo was retrieving him for . . . something. She had something planned, and he was slightly wary underneath his blinding, desperate excitement.

Kikyo was here! After all these years, Kikyo had returned—and Inuyasha didn’t know what to make of it.

With an irritated growl, Inuyasha pushed down his thoughts and continued running. He would know when he got there what she wanted—all he wanted, all his being cried out for, was the sight of her, the feeling of her skin beneath his own.

He’d missed her more than he’d realized.

The thought sent a pang resonating within his chest, because he knew it was not the same for Kikyo—and because he knew how much this feeling in his chest hurt Kagome as well.

The wind rushed around him as he ran, nothing like what he felt when he was really running, but enough to have his fragile, human flesh pinking and burning under the cold of the air against his face. He pushed branches out of his way as he went, growling lightly at the inconvenience, even as his impatience troubled him.

Nothing good would come of this encounter, he knew.

But he couldn’t stop running.

Inuyasha came to a clearing after a short time of running, of straining his ears for the cry of Kikyo’s soul collectors, and almost crying out with the horrible feeling of pain-drenched hope. His feet met soft grass, and he halted, staring around the meadow, trying to see through the ethereal quality of it.

The air shimmered, like it would when his human eyes grew increasingly tired in the dead of night, and the mystic quality of it all had him tensing up. He searched his surroundings, taking in the ring of trees around him, edging the meadow; the soul collectors swirling about the sky, slithering in the air around him in ways that made his stomach twist; the slight fog that may or may not have been an illusion of his own mind.

Suddenly, a sharp cry ripped the air, the sound high and pained. It was a sound that called out distinctly, desperately, for help. On instinct, his head snapping around to where he thought he’d heard the sound originate from, Inuyasha obliged to that call for help. Human form be damned, he couldn’t ignore someone crying out like that!

He took off running again, his chest stinging with the cold air his lungs sucked in hungrily, his breath panting out visibly before him in small clouds of mist. They hung suspended in front of his eyes for only a moment, before he ran straight through them and continued on. The fog was all around him now, and he had only the sounds of what he could only interpret as torture leading him on.

“Inuyasha,” a cold voice cut through the mist, and Inuyasha went shock still, stopping all movement so fast he fell forward and only barely managed to catch himself before his nose smashed into the dewy grass beneath him.

He recognized that voice, and it hurt so much to hear.

“Kikyo,” he gasped out, looking up to find the fog gone and in its place a horrific scene was placed upon an ice-frosted platter.

Kagome, her arms held up above her head. Kagome, with her head hung low as she whimpered out and choked on her spit when the soul collectors binding her to a large tree tightened their grip around her neck, chest, and waist. The swirled around her, crying out along with her, as if they were rejoicing in her pain; and Inuyasha felt as if he were going to be sick, as he lay on the ground, weak and without any way to help her.

The helplessness clawed at him, squeezed at his neck as he fought to breathe, and Inuyasha found purchase in anger, swiveling his head around as his face contorted in a human snarl.

“What the hell is this, Kikyo?” he growled out lowly, his voice rumbling dangerously as he pushed himself up from the ground into a ready stance.

Kikyo stood behind him, he could feel her breath on his neck, soft and cold as it misted his skin, and chills broke out from the point of contact, his whole body tingling with an unsettling feeling. “Use your eyes, Inuyasha,” she told him, her voice as eerie and mystic as the scene surrounding him, the reality he was fighting to keep surfaced in for the danger of drowning.

Inuyasha reached a hand back and pushed her away gently, his head lowered as a growl escaped his lips warningly, even as the pain of separation knifed through his heart so mercilessly he felt more like whimpering.

Another harsh cry whipped through the air, and Inuyasha flinched as if he had been struck, guilt rushing through his insides like just the right amount of acid to put him in agony and not enough to kill him.

“Call them off!” he ordered angrily, desperately, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. He pushed forward, ready to run towards her and rip the soul collectors off her himself, human form disregarded, but he stilled mid-motion and could not move again.

Ice cut through his veins, and panic soon followed, but Inuyasha could do nothing but stare over at Kagome, his gaze longing and painful. I’m sorry . . .

“That was easier than I might have thought, Inuyasha,” Kikyo told him in an unfeeling voice, he felt the rogue stands of her silk hair brush against his cheek, and he had to swallow to force down the impeding bile. Her touch was meant to hurt; it was cruel, even as the wind controlled their contact. “I have your body under complete control,” she continued, and he felt her move from behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling in warning. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and Kikyo slowly pulled into his line of sight, her ivory skin goddess-like in the moonlight as she stared at him with unfeeling contemplation.

“Come to me, Inuyasha,” her voice rang out in his mind, but he watched her lips moving—she must’ve said it aloud, but that wasn’t how he heard it. His eyes widened at her . . . command, and they widened even further with panic as his body moved forward fluidly, eagerly closer to her.

“Inuyasha!” relief washed over in Kagome’s tone, and she snapped into abrupt clarity in Inuyasha’s peripheral vision. Her head was up now, and he knew the kind of emotion that must have been swimming in her eyes; the hope, the teary happiness, and the relief that he was there, that he would protect her.

His chest ached as he continued moving closer to Kikyo, as he kept his eyes on her alluring form alone, unable to cement these theories in mind, but he knew them to be true. Kikyo’s feet moved not once while he stalked closer to her, ignoring Kagome’s now panicked cries by force.

“I-Inyasha? Inuyasha . . .” He knew she must be breathing heavily, her chest rising as falling in fast movements as panic slowly crawled in on her. But he couldn’t look. He didn’t look. But really, that didn’t matter, because what really killed him was the simple fact . . .

“Inuyasha, look at me!”

That he didn’t want to.

Everything in him desperately reached out for her—Kikyo, and he spared not a glance to the suffering woman bound to a tree by the will of his dark, bitter lover.

Kikyo was controlling his body, not his mind, because she didn’t need to.

Inuyasha came to stand before her, looking down into her dark, emotionless eyes with his own violet-black, human gaze. He stared, his body waiting for his next command; his body aware of her every breath against his skin—though, she didn’t need to breathe, did she? Everything she did now, it was all for him. All to torture him, and to help him to betray Kagome as she tortured her.

Inuyasha’s chest ached, his mind trying to reject the truth of the situation as his eyes desperately drank in the sight of her, dark and magnificent before him. Kikyo was beautiful, and still, she held his affection in such quantity like he’d never given it away before.

Behind Kikyo, Kagome screamed.

The sound pierced through the night, as well as Inuyasha’s pointless thoughts. What was he doing? He asked himself as he stared down into Kikyo’s eyes, transfixed on her even while she looked up at him with nothing.

He was tired of feeling weak—of being weak. This weakness he harbored for Kikyo disgusted him, abruptly, and his eyes flinched out of their loving gaze, and into an angry, rebellious challenge. Just try to control me, they snarled without words.

Kikyo showed no reaction, he felt no weakening of her hold over him, but he felt victorious—he hadn’t given in to her. Night closed in around them, sounds seeping in through the mist Kikyo seemed to have called forth. He could hear the forest around them again—but it didn’t interest him, he thought nothing of it, for Kagome was sobbing quietly where she was bound to the tree, and Inuyasha could do nothing to help her.

As of yet. He refused to give up, and he tried to pull against his restrains, the eerie sensation of not being able to move his body, even when he sent the signals down to his limbs, enveloping him. He stared down into expressionless eyes as he struggled, and he knew she was fully aware of what he was doing. Her eyes grew cold.

“Kiss me, Inuyasha,” chilled the world around him, and he fought down the irrational longing that struck through him. This woman was strangling Kagome—she had him under a body spell—and he would not feel anything but anger towards her.

Moments passed, and Inuyasha didn’t move; he didn’t kiss her, his body never bent forward, and he never watched those dusty, pink lips loom closer and closer to his own, until finally they connected with a sensation that had him growling out and pulling her closer—no, it didn’t happen. But he didn’t pull away either, didn’t look towards Kagome, take in the sight of her pathetic, utterly defeated body, before running toward her and saving her valiantly—that didn’t happen either.

There was simply nothing, until a small flash of irritation flashed in Kikyo’s dead, black eyes.

She wouldn’t ask twice, he knew; it was beneath her. But, what she wasn’t opposed to was letting her lips curl into a cruel smile, letting her bitter, cutting laughter slice through him like small, poisoned blades that would leave the wounds festering and angry for days. She apparently wasn’t opposed to gripping his upper arm in an imitation of a loving caress, her touch somehow sarcastic when matched with the frustrated and cruelly determined look in her eyes.

Their eyes connected heatedly, though Kikyo’s were still playing emotionless, and Inuyasha lost himself in her darkness. Even his mind was lost now, as he sank farther and down into the black abyss of her stare, until—

“Inuyasha! P-please!” Kagome’s stuttering voice rang out through the air, fazing Inuyasha back into reality once again. He felt his shoulders pull back slightly, and noticed the light edging in from the horizon, almost unnoticeable through the trees, darkness, and mist.

“Answer her, Inuyasha,” Kikyo’s voice was heard through sound-waves, and Inuyasha knew, he was minutes away from reverting back to his half-demon form. Kikyo’s hold on him was failing.

From the slight narrowing of her eyes, Inuyasha found that Kikyo knew this as well, and that she was testing her control over him. He didn’t know what the best move would be from here, but he did all he could in that moment that was without apparent consequence: he obeyed her.

“Kagome . . .” Apparent, being the key word. “What the Hell do you want?” his vice growled out, and his heart clenched.

Kagome looked affronted, as he saw when he turned an annoyed face to her, his violet-black eyes unreflecting of the horror he felt inside, the desperate anger. Kagome’s dark hair framed her pale face, her eyes wide and frightened; she looked terribly fragile under the cruel mercy of Kikyo’s soul collectors.

She was Kikyo’s reincarnation, but she was so different—she was so much brighter. She was so happy, when Inuyasha wasn’t hurting her as he was now, and that was a feeling he didn’t think Kikyo would ever have again, not with him.

“I-I . . .” Kagome looked horrified, lost, as if she were about to cry. Like the love of her life had just betrayed her. “Inuyasha,” she whispered, her voice broken and hurt in ways only the heart could hear and interpret. She was losing her hold on faith for him. Her head fell down slightly, her long, dark hair falling forward to frame her face more closely. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, before looking back up at him abruptly, a last ember burning in her eyes.

“This isn’t like you! She’s done something!” she yelled desperately, shaking her head in denial as much as she could in her trapped state.

That ember would glow one last time, before Inuyasha stepped on it.

“Wench,” his voice scoffed. Inuyasha felt his eyes grow hard, cruel, and his voice rumbled out from his chest once again, “Kikyo has returned—did you expect me to stay with you?” His voice was almost taunting, his words poking fun at her distraught expression.

Kagome shook her head again, the motion desperate, as if she were clinging to hope she no longer believed but wished she did, and she called out once again, “This isn’t you!”

Like she really wished she believed it.

“This is me,” his voice told her, sounding bored and irritated, but Inuyasha could see the sun rising—he watched it in his peripheral vision, desperate longing mounting higher and higher in his chest as it became lighter off in the distance.

“I love you, Inuyasha! Please, don’t do this—don’t, please,” her voice was weak, pathetic, by the end, as if she knew her pleas would fall on uncaring ears.

Please, Kagome . . .

“I don’t love you,” his voice growled out, his hands balling into fists for what would seem to be anger towards the situation. And it was, but not for the reasons Kagome was slowly starting to believe.

Just last a little longer, he begged her desperately, straining against the binds of his body. I want to love you, too.

And then the sun was rising, its light striving to meet Inuyasha’s shadowed form.

Kikyo worked quickly, her head snapping around and sparing the sun but a glace, before she turned desperate eyes on Inuyasha once again. She looked momentarily wild, and Inuyasha felt like he’d sunk two feet into the ground. He couldn’t understand this! What was Kikyo’s goal? What would she get out of this?

What had her looking like she had one last chance, and if she didn’t take it at this very moment, she might as well die?

“Kiss me, Inuyasha,” was her last order. But that wasn’t how he heard it; that wasn’t how he perceived the commanding shell over her voice. Kikyo was pleading with him, she was begging him. She wanted and both detested the touch she asked for.

His body was moving before he realized he’d looked away from Kagome; his hand reached out for her and pulled her to him securely even while Kagome’s protests faded away into nothing; and while he bent to kiss her, when their lips met in something he’d so longed for longer than he cared to remember, there was nothing.

There was nothing in the world but the connection of their lips, albeit a strong pang of sadness that had him ripping his mouth away from hers.

Why hadn’t he enjoyed that? Why hadn’t he reveled in the touch? Was it because he knew her intentions were dark? Because the one he wished he could love was watching as her heart wrenched horribly in her chest?

That could be it.

Kikyo, I feel everything for you. You are dead to me now.

The sun washed over him, he felt its warmth attempt to warm his body, and he felt his body transform.

Black hair turned to white; violet-black orbs shimmered into amber; and his ears grew into existence. His eyes were closed throughout this all, his back arching just slightly as he welcomed the change with breathless relief. He saw white no matter how much he didn’t want to see because of the sun staring intently down at him.

He could save her now.

Inuyasha opened his eyes and sought Kagome, instantly signaling his body to move forward when he noticed the empty base of the tree. But he couldn’t move.

Inuyasha’s heart panged with regret.

“Do you hate me, Inuyasha?” an emotionless voice spoke from behind him.

And in that moment, yes he did. He needed someone to hate right then, someone to blame.

“Yes,” he snarled, baring his teeth out of anger, frustration, as he fought desperately against himself to run after Kagome. She’d left. She’d given up on him. But she never would! That wasn’t Kagome! She wasn’t weak, she didn’t fall victim to things like this! He wouldn’t be her weakness—it wasn’t right!

He wouldn’t be to her, what Kikyo was to him.

Inuyasha didn’t know if he could stand being the pain of her past that would cling to her for years to come, that would haunt her and taint her existence, never allowing her true happiness. He would do anything to keep that burden from her . . .

Was that what Kikyo was doing now? Was she doing all she could to lift the burden of her existence, of their lost love, from his being? Only, she was too selfish to make a clean break and allow for his happiness with Kagome . . . So, was it, no happiness with her, and no happiness at all?

“Do you love me?” was her expressionless question, and he was unaffected like she pretended to be.

“Yes,” he spit out, staring off into the distance where she would allow his gaze and body to face. But I’m letting you go.

Things happened faster than he’d thought they would after that, and he was too surprised, too lost and overridden by his extreme longing to run after Kagome—to convince her that all this was wrong, that he hadn’t meant what he’d said—for his mind to really register all that happened, and just how it all happened.

All he knew was that he was running, that he was tearing off after Kagome’s scent, and that a solitary form stood stone still some distance behind him.

He didn’t pay it any mind, his thoughts swirling solely on the subject of the crying woman some distance ahead of him.

--

Off, some miles away from them all, a wolf demon froze while pulling off the pelts of fur that draped around his lower body to scream, “Kagome’s in danger!” and rush off out of his den.

His tribe of wolves, Ginta, and Hakkaku were left puzzled and rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Kouga had sniffed out something that Inuyasha could not (though he had identified the source of Kagome’s woe incorrectly). Not at the moment, anyway.

Inuyasha had followed Kagome’s scent as far as about a quarter of a mile, before her scent had started to dwindle out, and eventually cut off. He’d screamed her name, called out for her more times than he could remember, but he remained alone and without answer under the morning sky, which felt too bright and unfitting for his current situation.

He wandered around, at top speed sometimes but at more of an easy pace most times so as to give himself more time to pick up her scent, and he wondered what could have happened to her—or what she could have done—to keep hidden from him.

Had he really hurt her so much?

If he could only find her! He could comfort her! Assure her that he hadn’t meant any of, and tell her that, finally, he’d let go of his dead and deteriorated tie to Kikyo. He had let her go—for Kagome! And now he couldn’t find her!

But, putting aside this ever-growing frustration for her continued misunderstanding of the situation, Inuyasha was worried.

Worried out of his mind, and he would only ever admit that to himself inside his currently chaotic mind.

She could be hurt! Physically, he meant—not in the way that he had already hurt her. A demon could have attacked her; someone or thing could have decided she looked tasty or fuck-able; and, worse, he felt in his mind, Kouga could have found her.

Inuyasha ran beneath the canopy of trees, dodging obstacles with ease and grinding his teeth tersely as he supposed that it wasn’t worse for Kagome’s health, and that at least if he couldn’t be there for her Kouga would, but it stung. His chest constricted slightly at the thought of Kouga comforting her—of her finally giving in after all this time of because of how Inuyasha had hurt her.

If that were to happen, it would be entirely his fault—as it was his fault she’d given up on him.

A blinding shock of pain after this realization had him falling backwards, bouncing against thin air as if he’d encountered a barrier. He slammed back against a hard, unrelenting branch, and groaned. When he looked up from his backbreaking position, Inuyasha watched an ethereal swirl of power ripple out from his point of contact.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Kagome had erected a barrier—against him or all of the world, he wasn’t sure—and the only way to get through it was with the Tetsusaiga.

Inuyasha would have to use the Tetsusaiga against Kagome.

Realistically, it wasn’t against Kagome herself, but still—it was her power against his. Should he accept that she was crying somewhere within her barrier, that she was weak and at the mercy of anyone or thing that might come across her, and that she didn’t want to see him? Maybe so, but that wasn’t Inuyasha.

He growled and grumbled lowly under his breath, pushing up from his awkward position horizontally to stand in another awkward position perpendicular to the one before. He eyed the barrier for a moment, then realized that the word for what he was doing was stalling and quickly unsheathed the Tetsusaiga.

Inuyasha brandished his sword, and the demon blade pulsed red. With a cry of activation, he pushed off from the branch and flew, fangs barred, toward the faintly shimmering barrier. He ignored how absolutely wrong the action felt.

Tetsusaiga slashed through Kagome’s barrier after meeting brief resistance, the sound like a despairing cry. He fell forward through the air to land readily, glance around him, and then continue forward—but he didn’t get so far.

He stood a few yards away from a river, free of trees aside from one slim but sturdy looking willow a few feet from the rivers edge. Inuyasha’s movements stuttered and failed as he looked upon the sight of Kagome against the trunk of the tree, her legs pulled up to her chest, her hands placed over her eyes, and her body shivering slightly with silent sobs. The nonexistent sound echoed around him.

“Kagome,” he said without realizing his mouth had opened. Kagome’s body flinched at his voice, before stilling, and she looked up. Light reflected off the river lit her face, and he was given a bright view of her pink, swollen eyes and chewed lip. Her expression was that of a small, scared animal.

“You—I blocked you—” she whimpered out, like she wished she couldn’t see what was in front of her; like she wished he wasn’t there. “I told myself it was foolish to do—” she spoke quiet and small, as if to herself. “Because why would you want to see me? Not after that—n-not after Kikyo,” her voice wobbled, and she let it fade away. She worried her lower lip slightly, he eyes remaining large.

Inuyasha was abruptly confused and irritated beneath his quilt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stopping himself before he ground out something like “What the hell are you doing to your lip?”

“What?” she answered absently, looking away from him and frowning, teeth no longer latched onto her lower lip. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice breaking in a pain-threaded twist. Inuyasha was abruptly brought back to the situation at hand, away from his bafflement at Kagome’s actions.

“I didn’t want to do any of that,” he said, his voice softer that usual, an almost pleading note to it.

“But you did it,” she informed him, staring blankly into the river’s surface.

“Kikyo had me under some sort of spell,” he pushed on, moving forward and sheathing his sword noisily. Kagome didn’t seem to hear.

“Kikyo, Kikyo, Kikyo,” he heard her repeat faintly, a small frown and pale weariness claiming her features.

“I didn’t mean it!” he told her desperately, his unsettling emotions tinting with anger. She was ignoring him!

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly, and he balled his fists.

“Why not?” he raged quietly.

“Words don’t matter quite as much as actions, Inuyasha,” she told him, her voice soft. He deflated, his mouth falling open slightly as his eyes took on a helpless quality.

“I didn’t want to kiss—”

“It doesn’t matter!” she suddenly yelled, turning tortured dark eyes on him—he found that they too much resembled Kikyo’s dead orbs. That was his fault.

“Why—?” he asked, instinctively stepping closer. She pulled away from his impending form, and his chest constricted at the look on her face.

“This isn’t possible between us anymore,” she whispered. “I’ve known it wasn’t for a while . . .”

“If you’ve known ‘for a while,’” Inuyasha started, attempting to contain his boiling emotion, “then why has this,” he gestured between the two of them, “been going on for so long?”

“I didn’t want it to be true,” she answered, her voice hushed, her face pulling into a saddened smile after a moment. Inuyasha found himself compelled forward.

“Kagome—” his hand reached out for her and she pulled away, a hand rising as if to block him, before she looked at it stupidly and dropped it.

“No, Inuyasha,” she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now,” she told him, turning her head away.

Inuyasha’s steps faltered back and the tingling of pain inside him built up into a searing burn of emotion, before his face hardened and the pain of rejection set him on the defensive automatically.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked with a sort of aching anger, pushing his emotion aside with distaste, with burning shame that he’d ever made himself so vulnerable.

The air currents picked up, dust gathered in a slight hover over the ground, and there was no mistaking the obvious approach of Kouga.

“Do you want me to leave you with him?” Inuyasha asked as unfeelingly as he could manage, though the constriction of his throat meant that something must have seeped into his voice, even if he didn’t care to listen. He turned his back on her as he spoke, much like she had him. He could still see her, though, and he watched her front teeth come out to bit her bottom lip. He watched that curious act as his stomach dropped, and he watched her nod before she squeezed her eyes shut.

Inuyasha’s body erupted in agonizing heat.

And he left her.

He didn’t stop when he reached the cover of the trees; he didn’t look over his shoulder to watch the interaction between Kagome and Kouga—he could picture it well enough without confirming the image. Inuyasha didn’t stop running for what felt like a numb hour, but it had been much longer, his body argued momentarily.

His body slowed, his chest ached, and he walked with muscles screaming their protest through a field of short green grass. His feet felt the cold blades beneath him absently, his eyes set on a slightly lit, bare cave ahead of him.

His feet took him inside as his mind idly pondered the distance he had covered. He didn’t know how long he’d been running, body numb yet someone how still finding a way to ache.

As Inuyasha stood silent in the impending darkness of ending day, his emotions closed off, and he didn’t care. He sat down and leaned against a cold wall, his eyes staring blankly at the rock opposite him. The floor temperature clashed with the heat of his body, and he shivered, deciding that he liked this place, as much as he would like anything anymore. That certain weakness was something he would not allow to form within him again.

He could just hear the voice of his brother in his mind, telling him of his mistakes in a cool, uncaring voice. His words would be condescending and sharp, though spoken in his low, soft voice. Inuyasha wouldn’t be weak anymore; the words echoing in his mind wouldn’t be true.

Even on the night of the new moon, humanity wouldn’t consume him. He would feel nothing. He felt nothing.

He would be like this empty, perfect place.

A/N:

Mmk, this is going to have three chapters, and the second chapter is halfway done already. Reviews=updates.

Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think of it ^-^.