AN: After reading a fiction, "The Bleeding Rose of the Fallen," I couldn't help but write this one shot on Inu-Yasha. Thanks to Krikoris for giving me permission to use such a fab story idea for this fanfic.

Warning: A lot of cussing, and reference to God and Satan. Umm, if you're religious, you probably shouldn't read it.

Declaimer: I don't own Inu-Yasha. Idea for the story was taken from a fiction by Krikoris Kriticos. Thank you, Krikoris!

Among the Shadows

Winds of Fortune

The sound of his shoes hitting the pavement sounded loud and clear. He walked along the sidewalk without much purpose, with no destination. Yet on he walked, that dark sinister smile plastered to his face.

Inu-Yasha was no human. If his stark white hair didn't tell you that, then surely his deep amber eyes did. He was a fallen angel, thrown out of the heavens and tossed into hell. There he burned for what felt like eternity. But even Satan did not want him, cursing him and his blackened heart to a life among the living. And it was here, on the abominable planet that he had stayed for centuries.

He smirked now, as he walked, deciding to weave his way back to the only place he could call home. The entire planet reeked. Inu-Yasha despised it, the people that occupied it, as well as every other creature.

"Heading home already?" A hint of a voice asked. It felt like a breeze that wasn't there, sounded like a whisper that wasn't uttered. It was a soft voice, beautiful, eloquent, sonorous, and dipped in sadness.

Inu-Yasha's smirk twitched only the slightest. He'd forgotten to mention his hate for his lifelong companion. Certainly the true curse given him by Satan was the unfortunate companion whose only purpose on this foul planet was to annoy him. His hand flew up and raked through his silver hair. "Keep talking and I'll make a detour to kill some homeless bloke."

The voice made a soft noise and died away.

For some reason, that irked him even more. His glued on smirk came off, replaced by an irritated scowl.

"Bad mood?"

He grinned back at his shadow, satisfied that the creature, if he could call it that, spoke. He often wondered why the gods thought it to be funny to give him a shadow. Certainly every living thing on this planet had a shadow, but who said he was living? Having a shadow, however, wasn't the problem. It was just that when someone has a shadow, you'd think it would be the same gender as the person it shadows. But no, Satan thought it would be hilarious to stick a female to Inu-Yasha's feet. Satan and his fucking sense of humor.

He slammed the door shut behind him as he entered his apartment. It was practically empty. A huge king sized bed in one room was one of the few furniture. He shrugged out of his jacket, slinging it on to the bed as he walked into the bathroom. It was void of a mirror, the wall upon which it once stood was cracked and ugly. Its surface was brown and spotted.

He'd tried to keep a mirror there, really he did. But every time he saw his goddamned reflection, it reminded him of why he was here, why he wasn't up there or down there. Every fucking creature in the world belonged somewhere and here he was, stuck in the middle. And it was all HIS fault. Him, the self righteous one. God they call him. The fucking god who bestowed heavenly eyes upon a cursed being. Thus, seeing his own golden eyes, reminding himself of his past, Inu-Yasha could not help but punch out the only reminder of his damnation. He couldn't very well dig out his eyes, so he'd always chosen to slam his fist into the mirror.

He splashed cool water against his dead white skin and carefully wiped it off again.

He was cursed for all time.

A low chuckle came from his throat. Damn the world for everything.

A sudden cool touch against his cheek made him freeze. His eyes flew to the shadowed figure. In the dim lights of his apartment, he could make out the silhouette of her face. At certain angles, he could see the chiseled nose and high cheekbones. She was beautiful once.

"Don't laugh." She whispered to him for it was all she could do. "You don't have to laugh about it."

He froze, his face cradled in her shadowy hands. It didn't feel like anything, only like the hairs on his face stood on ends. He bowed his head, allowing her hands to go through his face. Feeling them slip through him, he shuddered, his eyes shutting from the pain of it. It was not a comfortable thing, to have your shadow go through you. It felt like your insides were being wretched out of place. It felt like you were being physically turned inside out, as though someone were pulling at your veins and draining away your blood. His face paled considerably more than normal, and his teeth clenched. It hurt more than anything. But pain was the only thing he could feel, the only thing that gave him comfort.

"Shut the fuck up," he ground out, still a little winded by the pain, "Kikyou."

She shrugged a dark shoulder and slinked away into the shadows. Inu-Yasha found his way back into his bedroom, pulling a chair up by the window before sitting down. He wanted, needed to feel something. "Kikyou," he called.

"What?" Her soft whisper asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Walk through me?" His voice pleaded only a little.


He cursed, turning to stare out the window at the stinking world. If she wouldn't satisfy his thirst for pain, then he'll have to do it himself. Flipping a switchblade out, he almost lovingly pressed it into his skin. There was a little resistance before the blade punctured it and slid down, drawing a line of dark red blood. He slid the blade down the length of his left arm, watching the blood bubble out. The wound lay slightly open and filling with his thick blood. He let it drip down his arm and onto the floor, a small puddle beginning to form there. Inu-Yasha brought the blade up to his lips, and licked it, tasting the tangy copper taste of his blood. It was disgusting. Like everything else in his life.

He didn't belong anywhere. And much as he wanted to deny it, he wanted to belong somewhere. The blood from his arm dripped down in little drops. Thick, red, dark. Like the world he lived in. It reeked with a bittersweet scent.

A soft whisper that sounded like a deep sigh came from a corner of the bedroom. Inu-Yasha glanced up from the pooling blood and throbbing pain to scan his serious amber eyes along the wall. He trained them on the shadowed figure of Kikyou, pinning her against the lightless walls with his gaze. "What?" He hissed out in an annoyed voice.

His arm throbbed a little, and he clenched his fist, causing the flow of blood to increase. Drip. Drip. Drip. The little droplets sped up their descending flight.

"I disapprove."

"Did I ask for your approval?" He snapped.

Kikyou shifted closer to him. "I don't understand you and your need to hurt yourself."

"Shut up." The hand holding the sharp blade tightened. "Shut up," he repeated to the air, and brought his arm out, suddenly throwing the switchblade with deadly accuracy. It whistled through the air, spinning through the shocked shadow and embedding itself deeply into the far wall. Kikyou fled from the room, blending with the other shadows and quickly retreating from the angry immortal.

"Fuck," he cursed softly. His hand caressed his wounded arm, tracing the deep cut. The whole fucking world fucking pissed him off. His nails dug into his already open skin. Hissing at the pain of it, he continued to claw at the raw wound. His arm shook violently and his hand was caked in blood. Flecks of his flesh buried deep beneath his fingernails. He shook now, the whole of him, shook from the anger of his existence, shaking from the pain that was his only means of retreat.

He had never been loved, never been wanted, never been comforted. Who needed all those things anyway? Who needed them when the world hated you, feared you, ran from you? He was born a heavenly being, all silver hair and jeweled eyes. But God didn't want him. Hells, even Satan didn't want him. As if he wasn't punished enough for his lowly existence, they decided to toss him on earth with a goddamned female shadow to annoy him.

His whole body was shaking in spasms, the pain overriding everything. His mind became blissfully empty. The pain washed over all his thoughts, draining them away like the blood that was pumped out so readily by his undying heart. He didn't have to think, he didn't need to think. But when one was damned to live eternity alone, one can't help but think. Constantly.

The blinding pain that dotted his eyes subsided a little and he could make out the shimmering edge of Kikyou. Her hand clamped softly, coolly over his harsh wound, soothing the pain. He glanced down at the mess of flesh and blood, at the revolting sight of the putrid red mass, and bent over, throwing up over floor. His puke mixed with the blood, and turned a deep red.

"You are not at fault for your existence." Kikyou murmured lightly.

Inu-Yasha shut his eyes hard, turning away from the stench of everything before him, turning to let the setting sun warm his face.

She was right. How was it his fault for ever having been brought into existence? How was it his fault for living a damned life? Why did he have to take all the punishment for it? His eyes opened, and he saw in the reflection of the window, his face. His golden eyes were wide and clear, staring at the shockingly beautiful face. The lilting eyebrows were dark against his skin, accenting his eyes. His hair was a cascade of white silk threads, waving over his eyes, past his shoulders. He looked like a fucking girl.

Without thinking, his right hand automatically came up, pulling back and delivering a punch. It crashed through the thick window, cracking the expanse of glass and shattering it. The sharp glass cut into his knuckles and drew lines of blood.

Kikyou gasped in surprise. "Inu-Yasha," She whispered, sadly, disapprovingly.

He looked down at both his bloodied arms and grimaced. "It fucking hurts," He managed with a sadistic smile.

"I know."

"You don't know shit."

A light touch again.

"I know."

He found himself looking into her eyes for the first time since they'd ever been forced to live together. They were laced with thick lashes that could barely be seen. It looked like the sculptures of men and women, their eyes a blank stare, with no pupils and no irises. Her entire face was a grey that blended into the background, like soft mesh or clear liquid, like a light brown scarf that was see through. Her doe-like eyes blinked, and he thought he could almost distinguish what color they were because for a split second, he saw a light shade to her pale eyes. But every time he blinked, his shadow's shape became fuzzy again. He felt like he was staring into a blind man's eyes and seeing the wall behind him. It was like looking about the world a whole new way. And he felt surprisingly calm.

"I can feel it," he said finally.

Kikyou nodded.

"I can feel the pain."

She traced a shadow of a finger along the lines of his wounds. "You can feel things other than pain."

His gold eyes watched the finger move. "Why do you try? I can't even feel that."

"You can't feel it there," she breathed, "you can feel it here," and she rested a hand lightly where his heart should be.

He tried to pull away, confused and a little disoriented, his painful smile fell. "What are you talking about, wench?"

He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He didn't want to feel anything anymore. He was surprisingly close to grasping his own feelings, and it scared him more than God or Satan ever could. His world was falling down, the things he existed for no longer mattered. Acceptance wasn't a problem. Fucking Kikyou, the goddamned shadow was tipping his world upside down with her damned words.

She cautiously wrapped her arms around him, careful not to accidentally run through him and cause him more pain. And next to his ear, like a breeze that wasn't there, she began to talk. "For centuries I have watched you. For centuries you have endured. You and I both have been condemned to a life on earth. Did you think you were alone? I have always been here.

"For centuries I have tried to understand you and always you have pushed me away. You have used me as a scapegoat. You have wounded me with words. And you have used me to wound yourself. Just this one time, let me do something for you that does not inflict pain. Inu-Yasha," she sighed, "let me be here for you."

Let me help you, she meant.

His eyes closed, and he was careful not to lean into her. Kikyou. His shadow. His lifelong companion. Perhaps, just this once, he would let her see into his soul, the part of him kept hidden for all their time together.

For the time being, he let her cool touch comfort him.

He'd lied before. He didn't hate his lifelong companion. He didn't hate his shadow.

He loved her.

But – how the hell do you love someone you can't touch?

His painful smirk slid back onto his face.

So that was Satan's curse.