Kagura was birthed fighting. Shrieking ugly sounds that could not properly be called words as she clawed away from Naraku's putrid flesh.

She is the wind is the storm is the typhoon is the bound-winged sparrow that doesn't know it can't fly. An exile birthed in the vinegar distilled from the wine of hope.

Filled with fury-fire and curdled-hate she seeks deliverance from a daiyoukai with a pretty face. Weaving betrayals and stitching deceits, she is the daughter most not unlike the father.

Kagura doesn't realize this, of course, but instead clings to her pickled hope. Attempting a devil's bargain when, ironically, she is already owned by Hell.

Sesshoumaru is power is silence is apathy is sympathetic to her plight. Unfortunately, he is also unwilling to grant the mercy of his aid. Understanding, perhaps, that freedom unearned is merely slavery bereft of chains.

Pride-wounded, but anger-salved Kagura curses him as she storms back to her father-master to rage-rage alone.

Times passes, and the vinegar turns to brine as her allegiances unwisely change. She is to kill the boy whom she could almost call friend.

Kohaku is older is younger is a prisoner is a slave is a killer is a guilty innocent. Regardless, he cares little for himself, seeking only redemption for his crimes.

Above all he hopes and teaches her, what Sesshoumaru told her, what she knew all along.

Absolute mercy is unjust, and only by her hand might her chains be truly shattered. She thinks it's a pretty thought as Naraku's cruelty-poisoned limbs sunder her flesh. Sending her capsizing unto death.

In the end, where flowers bloom so does hope, but alas the die of fate is always loaded.

If he could have, he would have saved her.

And for Kagura, that was hope enough.