Title: Weapons
Squicks: Blood.

Summary: Not all weapons are blades or elements.

Shard # 10 - Weapon

White became red. Black became blacker. Flesh became stained. And silver became rusted.

The metallic scent of blood clung to the air around them, just as the sticky substance clung to their bodies. Death... so much death, and for what? A single jewel shard that a village hadn't wanted to give up. Oh, they would've given it up to someone else, though. Someone who wasn't 'a female youkai or a mere boy', as the villagers had put it. Failure wasn't an option, though, so they had been forced to resort to drastic measures. Drastic measures... no, there was no need to sugar-coat things; they had been forced to resort to killing.

That had been a short time ago. Now, the two were on their way back to hand the shard over to the one person who never seemed to soil his own hands. The feather they rode upon carried them towards their destination rather swiftly. And, most of the ride passed without either saying a thing. Then, one chose to break the silence.

"It's us, isn't it?" Kohaku finally asked, his voice so low that the passing wind nearly canceled it out.

Kagura cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow, "I thought you would've already realized that."

She had realized it soon after receiving her first assignment from Naraku. Since Kohaku had been with him longer, she had always assumed he already knew. That didn't appear to be the case, however.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

His voice once again interrupted her thoughts, and she frowned at the question. How could it not bother her?

Rather than reply with some sharp remark, as she wouldn't normally done, the wind-user chose to answer his question with a question, "Doesn't everyone have their own type of weapons, Kohaku?"

The taijiya shifted his weight a little, and switched his gaze from the crimson-stained blade in his hands to the trees that passed below them, "But, we're not weapons, Kagura."

She 'tsk-ed', and shook her head. After everything he had been through; everything he had put them through, he was still as naive as the child he was, "We are to him."