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Striking Lover

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                                    * The air was thick with a sense of dread.  Miroku, still deep in his prayers, tried his best to disregard the feeling.  Energy was tingling through the air, weaving in and out in a sharp rhythm before collecting.  Slowly a barrier was forming, and under the stress it took more concentration than necessary.  The darklings flew from overhead, quicker than he had expected.  Dark spots so high up that if one didn`t look closely they could have mistaken them for some large birds.  But they were indeed menacing.  They traveled in a large flock, their dark sounds echoing and tearing at their eardrums as the hoard soared in search of them. His jaw clenched at a particularly sharp screech, eye peeling open to lock with Sangos. It wasn`t until then when he noticed Sango outside the hidden shroud of his barrier. Sangos eyes were so distant in thought that he felt that she was further than she actually was. His steel blue eyes stayed locked with hers as she took those steps back he felt her presence slipping dangerously away, and her lost stare made a cold sensation glaze throughout his body.  After giving Kira a concerned glance she instructed him the task of her protection before fleeing into the thick field in the distance, her form swift and not once faltering. 
                                     
                                    A mass of black swooped down, their cries mind numbing as they pursued Sango deep within the woods. *

                                    Sango. . . . *Miroku hissed, unsure of what to do now.  Sango was risking her life—their lives doing this.  The darklings were high in number, and he only had the slightest inkling of just how dangerous they could be.  His eyes instantly went to look towards Kira, her voice letting out a soft whimper as she watched helplessly into the clearing.  Miroku waited a few moments, letting some time pass to assure it was safe before letting down his barrier.  Finally he took in a ragged breath, holding it in longer than expected. 
                                     
                                    His instincts told him to chase after Sango, his body almost flinching for her direction. but that wouldn`t work.  Kira was with him.  He had contemplated leaving her hidden somewhere—perhaps in the niche of a large tree, or under some up-grown roots, but that wouldn`t work well.  He knew the child would refuse to stay put.  The small cry of the young demon startled him just as the flock was fully out of sight, and Miroku had acted fast as he reached to grab her arm.  Missing by just the hair of her tail, Kira neared the edge of the forest; it would seem watching Kira was more of a challenge in its self than he would have hoped for.*

                                    Kira!  Wait, come back here!

                                    *In a dishuffled mess, he hurried to his feet and drove his legs to move, and within moments he quickly swooped the young wolf up, a soft squeak escaping from her lips.  Small fingers curled into balls, the light pounding on his side and stomach bringing him no discomfort. *
                                     
                                    Kira, running after Sango will only bring her and yourself harm.  You must stay with me, please, or else someone may get hurt. I am confident Sango will be fine  
                                     
                                    *He hide his own concern in order to console Kira. The tree tops shuffled loudly—branches snapping suddenly, a gleam of red and blur or gray and black mixed with the various shades of green .  A darkling sprung from the tree line, talons curling menacingly.  They had provoked a couple to return, a second still backtracking within the deep shrubs and tall oak.  He managed to lean away from the attack, his body curling to act as a shield for Kira.  With his staff in hand he swiped toward the creature, the impact sharp and strong.  A loud smack could be heard as the wood came in contact to the curve of its side. It staggered for a moment, just enough for the monk to allow himself several feet of space.  The second had arrived seconds after, and he surveys the opponents with narrowed eyes. *












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          *Sango ducked and weaved through the trees as she ran, completely disregarding the darklings until she inevitably had no choice but to fight them. Two glided at her flanks, and she thwarted their synchronized attack with a forward tumble as they swiped their beastly claws – in turn attacking each other. She dragged Hiraikotsu up from where it landed, skittering across the ground before she sent it vertically into another darkling’s face by its handle. The weapon crushed its skull with inhuman power, and the taijiya trampled over its fallen corpse as she continued to run. Her eyes darted around for a hollow or cave she could blockade herself in so she wouldn’t get surrounded. No such luck. Instead the light that passed between the trees began to flood with the forms of her adversaries.

          Just as she feared, their wings had worked more quickly than her legs. She skidded to a halt in a clearing, dodging by a hair as a darkling flew in from her front and swiped its claws at her throat. Several more advantaged from each side, and without hesitation she swung Hiraikotsu in a heavy arc around her, killing some and propelling others. But more and more flew in, and unless she felt like turning herself into a nauseous human version of Shippo’s spinning top she would have to change tactics again. Into the trees she went, further from her companions, and further from Miroku’s energy.

          …

          Several minutes and several dozen imps later, Sango’s concentration was suffering greatly. Her chest heaved with exertion, not having a moment’s rest between fights. What the darklings lacked in wit they made up for in numbers. The few bloody tears in her suit stood as reminders that she needed to be careful. One slip up, followed by several pairs of razor-sharp claws, and it’d all be over for her. She knew this, but could do little about it as they charged her at once.

          Hiraikotsu guarded her back, while the wakizashi slashed away at the ones at her front and sides. Her eyes darted to every set of claws as they encroached, making sure to hack them off when they reached dangerous proximity. But suddenly a weapon emerged from their masses, and without thinking she dodged and went to wrench the handle from the creature’s grip. She recognized the scythe at the very moment her fist gripped around it.

          Too late.

          Dark energy erupted at the contact, forcing the darklings to part from her and the painful lightning. Sango’s startled cry echoed through the forest as it threatened to blind her senses. The staff felt like smoldering metal in her hand but she could not relinquish her grip. She could hear her flesh sizzle and burn, but the dark energy patched her wounds before any damage could be done. Regardless the pain was agonizing.
          She remembered this happened before. She’d found this weapon during her battle with Akumu at her village. It’d possessed her.

          Determined not to let it happen again, Sango threw her sword to the ground and forcefully tried to peel open the grip of her other hand. Her nails dug in with the effort, and at the expense of all her strength and concentration she knocked the scythe out of her hand. She gasped at the effort, her left hand writhing and twitching miserably under the burn that had not healed. In her pain, she didn’t even notice the juzu it no longer wore, or the emerald beads that littered the ground around her.

          Her knees wobbled, but she did not allow them to collapse. Instead she took up her sword again, and sloppily ran into the trees – this time backtracking. For some reason her mind kept telling her it was dangerous to be away from Miroku. She spent her energy dodging the darklings now, rather than attacking. But she knew with how many there were, she would soon need to start fighting again.*

          You seem a bit outnumbered, slayer.

          *Sango gritted her teeth, glancing around for the source of the sudden young male voice. It echoed along the trees in a somewhat bodiless fashion. From what she remembered, Kuroshiro never sounded so boyish. And it was certainly too deep to be Akumu.*

          Dare da? Who's there?!

          *She demanded, and as her eyes focused their attention in front of her again she realized she would be too short of halting. But her foot froze in place regardless, and she found herself paralyzed and practically nose to nose with a masked youth.

          His orange eyes held a trace of amusement, before he closed them and brought his hand to the small gap between them*

          Found you~

          *His fingers snapped, and they were gone.*


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Friendly Pup

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                                            *The only thing that had been keeping Kira in her place was the barrier, and once Miroku relinquished it she made a mad dash for the forest. Sango’s blood filled her nose as though she were right in front of her, churning her insides with panic. It only increased when the taijiya’s cry echoed their way, and the monk had the nerve to hold her back.

                                            Kira, running after Sango will only bring her and yourself harm. You must stay with me, please, or else someone may get hurt. I am confident Sango will be fine

                                            *The monk didn’t have her keen sense of smell and hearing, or her youkai ability. How could he tell her that when she could smell that she was definitely not fine? How could he not feel the dark energy enveloping the area, and the energy she always distinctly considered ‘Sango-ka-san’ disappearing?*

                                            You’re wrong, Miroku-sama!
                                            *She fidgeted in sheer fright, clawing to get away from him and not realizing the sharp little lines the effort made across his skin. Her vision was blurry with tears, her speech almost nonsensical as the last trace of her mother figure suddenly drifted from detection.*
                                            She’s gone! I have to see her!! I have to see her before she goes!!

                                            *Her mind was reeling with images. She’d only known one such person’s scent to disappear so completely. Her papa’s smiling face flooded her mind’s eye, little pieces of him crumpling into himself like ash before floating skyward in firefly like balls of energy. Within seconds everything that was him, was gone. His blood, his scent – everything. Very much like Sango’s was right now.

                                            Before Miroku had time to unravel exactly what Kira was worried about, the darklings attacked. He deflected one, narrowly escaping its claws, and ran to give them a large berth from the creature. He clutched her tightly as the second arrived, and neither party seemed to want to move.

                                            The wolf’s eyes traveled past the darklings, distracted by movement. Something dark fixated her attention from the direction Sango had disappeared in. A shadow crawled across the ground, looming long as it approached. Then, as though it had caught sight of the two, the shadow shot out for them at lightning speed. It bounced into a perfect circle at their feet, paused a brief moment, before its borders leapt out in every direction just as Miroku’s barrier had done earlier.

                                            Everything as far as the eye could see began to darken. The trees and grass disappeared. The advancing darklings vanished. And in their wake reappeared ominous stalagmites and stalactites riddled with holes – the only noticeable landscape within this sea of darkness.*
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Striking Lover

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                                    User Image * Miroku`s grip tightened around the child`s small waist.  She was struggling very much—whatever she sensed was obviously far worse than what he thought. He, too, had the urge to charge into the thick forest in search of Sango, but he ignored his gut feeling and remained steady in his ground.  Kira was screaming of Sango, her eyes tearing up as she riled. The child was frantic. His arm stinging from every wild thrash she made. Her words provoked his thoughts, striking louder then the darklings shrieks; she was gone?  She wasn`t dead, he knew, but to be gone so suddenly he couldn`t quite understand. He wanted to pursue her statements but couldn`t at the moment. They had some distance between themselves and the creatures now but they were still a threat nonetheless.
                                     
                                    The monk made sure to raise his staff, his defense as firm as a wall as the darklings schemed with one another.  Their red eyes narrowed into slits, charcoal skin tingling with their hunger to continue their hunt.  For a moment he contemplated on whether or not he should make the first move, perhaps catch them by surprise.  However, having Kira made his plans seem rather difficult.
                                     
                                    Before he could conjure up a reasonable action a movement captured his eye.  It was dark, like a pool of ink, moving across the ground.  Its form stretched out as it continued to turn and approach them, its movement quick yet heavy. Kira seemed to have noticed it as well, she fell limp in his grasp. Once the form appeared to be facing them its velocity grew to an alarming amount.  Miroku cringed, his body jerking as he hunched over with the intent to protect the young demon in his hold.  The strange mass took a pause, too close for comfort, and Miroku had his staff slightly angled before him.  Were it to lunge or strike he would be ready—but instead it expanded.  Its edges consumed every nook and cranny; every crevice was consumed in darkness.  The darklings were wiped from existence. The canvas of greens and blues muddied with greys and blacks. It looked as though the sky began to fade every shade darker until finally growing black.  It all happened so sudden that Miroku had difficulty keeping up with the quickness of this transformation. 
                                     
                                    Just as the sky had fully been submerged, forms grew from the darkness.  Spikes of grotesque formations that looked to be otherworldly, erupted from top and bottom.  Miroku felt the ground beneath him quiver, and he side swept as a stalagmite nearly nipped his side.  The rock-like structure was ridged and coarse.  Any injury from it or all like it would have been far from a clean cut.  After seconds of this everything came to a complete stop.  All he heard was his breathing, slightly quickened from everything that happened, and then silence.    
                                     
                                    Everything had become completely still now.
                                     
                                    The cavern echoed with a low noise—a consistent humming reverberating from the empty space.  It was seemingly never ending.  Miroku had focused his eyes, attempting to peer off into the distance for a wall.  But instead it stretched to an undeterminable distance all around.  Miroku`s lips pressed together, his throat tightening—where exactly was this place?  The darkness that loomed not just from the ceilings and ground but in the air itself, in yet he saw his hands and Kira perfectly fine.  In the atmosphere it drenched with death and malice, cringing at his heart as if to squeeze the very life out.  Even his lungs struggled, the scent being musky and thick.  Taking a few steps forward he noted how heavy he felt.  The spikes erupting from both ceiling and ground were of various sizes; some taller than even him, others so small he might accidentally step on them.  Carefully he slide one foot before the other, the dirt beneath his feet very dry and bulky in texture.  The matter surrounding the spikes around him dispersed out into the air—light like ash, floating upward into where a ceiling would have been before disappearing with the rest of it.  The sound it made was almost like bones being crushed under his weight, but he didn`t give himself the time to entertain the thought. *






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Devoted Slayer

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          *For a while the only noise the taijiya could hear was her heaving breath, fighting to regain her composure. Her muscles were as rigid as a statue’s, unable to move until her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. She gulped, and a single bead of sweat trickled down her tight jaw.

          This wasn’t right at all.

          Sango's eyes glided over the rough environment as her breathing calmed some. Though it had happened so suddenly, she tried to reevaluate the encounter in excruciating detail. There was a young male demon around Kohaku’s age in appearance. None of his physical features hinted toward his species. But the mask was a promising hint. And with a snap of his fingers he had disappeared, and sent her here.

          So what was it. Illusion? Or teleportation?

          She bared her gritted teeth, trying to expand her senses further. She needed to know if she was in immediate danger – if there were things lurking in the dark, watching her. But she could barely make out her own feet in the darkness, much less sense anything beyond the ominous black. Something crippled her abilities. Something evil, that crawled over her skin uncomfortably and left burning trails which seemed to collect at her shoulder blades. She rolled them subconsciously in consequence, fighting for her train of thought over the frenzy it produced in her mind.

          ‘Think,’ she plead with herself, brows furrowed as her eyes closed. ‘Your body froze when you stepped near him. He snapped his fingers. You ended up here. Where is here. What is he, and where did he go?’

          She realized it was too short of an encounter to gather much information about anything. And assuming would only get her in trouble. She still didn’t have a great feeling about where she was, either. Would it be dangerous to venture and find an exit? Would she bring uninvited attention by calling out for the monk?

          No. It would be best to stand her ground until she could think more clearly. The dust itched at her burns, anyway, and she thought it more prudent to tend to them while the lull in battle continued.
          She took her emergency gauze out from under a hidden compartment and wrapped her left palm. As she did so the dull hum of empty space suddenly sparked to life, echoing around her.*

          You’re no fun.

          I never said I was
          *She responded casually, not looking up from her work. The demon had appeared young, and if she knew anything from her experiences with Kira and Shippo – young things liked to play with their victims, and were very impatient. If she stayed where she was he might be pressured into giving away information that could help her understand exactly what was happening.*

          Don’t you like my realm, taijiya? I’m sure it will impress you if you have a look around.

          ‘Realm … So this is another plain of existence?’

          I’m fine where I am, thanks.

          *There was a gap of silence as she closed the knot on her bandage, and she peered off into the darkness once more.*

          I’ve only invited you into my home for the time being, so it’s all well that you do not make yourself comfortable. You’ll be leaving shortly.

          And where am I going?

          I haven’t decided yet ~
          You’ve made my job rather difficult, taijiya. You have so many nightmares … I wish I could pick them all.

          'Nightmares ...'

          *Her eyes widened at the word, ringing like an alarm in her head. Her mind went back to their encounter – his mask, this world, her temporary paralysis. She’d stepped in his shadow. Of course …
          By her best guess, this world was an illusion. It existed outside of reality, but at the same time was very much real. Much like Byakuya, this boy could manipulate their environment and make them see what he wanted them to see. He would use the darkness of his realm to evoke their fear, and birth from it their perfect nightmare – so that he could feed off their torment.*

          You’re a shadow demon, aren’t you?

          Well don’t you think you’re clever.

          *Despite the sarcasm she figured she was right. Which would mean that whatever he pulled out of her head, it wasn’t real. If she could remember that and keep a level head when his illusion formed, she would be in control. Or, at least, that would be a viable plan.
          Right now, her burning nerves made it hard to even concentrate on that fact. Despite standing still she felt out of breath – like her lungs were on fire. Her mind was still feverish and sloppy in its decision-making. If she truly came face to face with a threat, she had a sneaking suspicion that her brawn would mindlessly cut them down without putting the proper amount of thought into it.

          Which would be troublesome if she wasn’t the only one caught in the illusion.

          She shook her head, irritated. She was overthinking this. Whatever happened next, she would need to calm herself and judge the situation as it unfolded.

          Sango rolled her uncomfortable shoulders again, tugging at her collar with a growl.

          If only he’d get this damn thing started already!*

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                                                  *Perched on a high branch, shrouded in the lush greenery, Hidama absently plucked apart a leaf by its veins. Tied to the middle, ring, and small finger of his right hand were shimmering threads of white energy, extending outward and disappearing into space. The ring and pinky thread pulled in the same direction, while the middle one lead to the far opposite side. These threads gave him eyes, ears, and access to the three people currently suspended in his shadowplay.

                                                  It was fast apparent to him that these were not run of the mill humans. Then again, he hadn’t assumed they would be – seeing as how difficult it was for Kuroshiro to eliminate them. But as incompetent as the Lord of Darkness seemed to be, he had his uses. Namely those dimwitted darklings that hadn’t known he was trailing them for hundreds of miles. Like he’d anticipated, they lead him straight toward his target.
                                                  And, of course, he had the Lord to thank for that convenient little poison in the taijiya’s blood. She was a clever one, and knowledgeable about demons. Even if she uncovered his abilities, that curse would hinder her from doing much about it.

                                                  Separated from the monk, she was currently at her most vulnerable. He could sense the curse spreading like a ravenous virus inside her, called to life by Kuroshiro’s command. It was only a matter of time before it consumed her completely.

                                                  He would have fun taking advantage of that fact before sending her off into his illusion.

                                                  The thread on his ring finger suddenly strummed to life, catching his eye. The monk was expanding his aura, feeling around his realm for clues and room to avoid danger. Or wasting his energy, rather. He wouldn’t find anything. His world was an endless loop of darkness – the landscape sharp and rigid but not live. One would have to run into the formations to get into any real danger there. It was just a holding chamber to weed out their fears, until he could focus that energy into making something spectacularly terrifying.

                                                  While the job was difficult, and a strain on his imagination, he was at least grateful that the monk and taijiya shared many of the same fears. They both feared death – but only because they did not want to leave their children. The man suffered nightmares of a curse he once had – fearing it would resurface and burden his children. The taijiya feared she would be weak and incapable of protecting them from harm.
                                                  Ironically enough, the monk also feared his wife for the sake of their children. No doubt he had caught onto the change in the taijiya, and wondered what exactly would happen if the curse took full effect.

                                                  Well, Hidama wouldn’t have to stretch his powers too far to bring that suspicion into fruition.

                                                  He smiled. Tricking those two would be easy, but how to separate them from his target? As it was, the monk clung protectively around the girl and seemed as though he had no intention of letting her go. Hidama would need to create a diversion to separate the two, and get her close to the target.

                                                  He wondered whom the monk would choose to protect – the girl, or his wife?

                                                  Suddenly a thread shot out from the space in front of him, coiling around his left index finger and tying with a knot. He wiggled his finger experimentally, and the thread remained motionless.*

                                                  It seems all our players are in place. Let’s begin, shall we?

                                                  *Spreading his fingers out, the dark world around them vanished.*

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                                            *Despite the unpleasant musk and darkness of this new realm, it helped calm Kira some. Being unable to see very far had heightened her sense of smell – which at first had been overpowered by the foul air.
                                            The sensory shock snapped her back into her right mind, at least temporarily.

                                            She hung docile in the monk’s hold for a moment, smelling the open scratches she’d left across his arms and fighting the instinct to lick them apologetically. But his blood wasn’t the only one she could smell. Her emotions were mixed at the discovery.

                                            Sango was less than half a mile away in this hellish place.

                                            She hadn’t disappeared like her father had, but at the same time Kira was still worried. While it seemed like most of the blood she scented was from the darklings, Sango’s was mixed in there as well.

                                            Was she hurt?

                                            Wiggling Kira pushed at the monk’s arm, looking at the ground expectantly*

                                            You’re going the wrong way. Follow me.

                                            *With a bit of reluctance he did so, and when she settled on her feet she grabbed the long sleeve of his koromo and lead him around another jagged protrusion toward Sango’s scent.
                                            They hadn’t gotten far at all before a voice echoed around them, bodiless and calm.*

                                            It seems all our players are in place. Let’s begin, shall we?

                                            *Light suddenly burst forth from the ground below them, blinding Kira for a few good seconds. From their feet a new environment began to emerge, grass sprouting and ash giving way to dirt. Soon an entire village exhumed itself from the earth around them – a familiar one, but at the same time not.

                                            Kaede's village.

                                            No sound existed but the roar and crackle of fire that lit each and every house aflame. Blood and the slain bodies of villagers littered the ground, leading a path up the shrine stairs in front of them. From there Kira could smell the wretched scent veer off to the left side of InuYasha’s forest, down a trail they took often.

                                            Kira took a subconscious step forward, knowing that was the direction of Sango’s scent as well. But movement caught her eye and she turned to her right – staring at a hut that Miroku had never seen before.
                                            Like the others it was set ablaze, the heavy roof already caved in and consequently inaccessible from the entrance. The air was dark from the smoke and ash, but her wide eyes trained with incredible scrutiny on the glimpses of white skin and fur that moved against it.

                                            On the far side of the hut a young boy stared miserably back at them, his face sooty and covered in tears.

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                                            Kira’s mind went white and silent.*

                                            Keikaru!!

                                            *She took off like a bolt of lightning in the boy’s direction, too fast for Miroku to grab her collar or sleeve. As she advanced the boy turned and ran into the forest behind him, and Kira disappeared after him a moment later.

                                            Before Miroku could absorb what exactly had happened, let alone move to chase after the girl – someone shrieked his name. It was a gut-wrenching sort of sound, desperate and broken, like a person begging for their life.
                                            Or a mother knowing she could not save her children …*

                                            MIROKU!!

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                                    [Kikyou gave a slight smile when Inuyasha seated himself near her. She wasn't sure if she was meant to hear his hushed words or not, but she didn't respond on it. It always impressed her how he was able to read her as no one else ever could. Sometimes she felt he even may know her better than himself. After all, he had faithfully believed in her and fought for her even when she thought she wanted to destroy him.

                                    She listened to Inuyasha's story of what had transpired earlier that day. eventually she pulled at his sleeve, after noting the damage, and idly running her finger along the rips. She was partially wondering what powers does the young imp have and half inspecting if Inuyasha's top was beyond repair. A fire rat robe taking rips from a young ice imp...it only proves that imp to be quite strong. Inuyasha's robes are supposed to act as an armor. Was the hard hits intentional or was the young one still unable to adjust his strength.

                                    Kikyou looked up and made direct eye contact with inuyasha when he piped his question about the beads.]

                                    Prayer beads are a special power used by many priests and priestess. It is common that one set will not act the same as another. Has Yume already used the beads on Ryo? What was the reaction?

                                    [kikyou then prodded a finger at Inuyasha's shoulder where another rip was at. ]

                                    Have you been injured anywhere?



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Striking Lover

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                                    * Black. Everywhere they turned was black. With even darker silhouettes of protruding, deformed earth. Every inch had felt like an entire yard with how cautiously he was moving. The constant humming dulling out and become numb to his ears as he strained to hear past it. Kira had slacked in his grip, making it a little easier for him to focus his thoughts. He tucked her under his arm more securely in case she fussed again, cradling her to his side. They weren`t in the forest anymore. He had gathered that much. But then if they weren`t there, where were they? And who was the creator of this domain? His brow frowned at the thought- puzzled by the sudden change. He wondered if it had something to do with Sango, and if she was trapped there as well. If so, what was the purpose of them being there.

                                    Kira suddenly came to life again, ears perking and tail standing on ends as she wormed, and wiggled her way out of his grasp.*

                                    'You`re going the wrong way. Follow me.'

                                    *She scurried to the floor and tugged at his sleeve in one swift motion. At first he wouldn`t budge, but given the situation he trusted her sense of hearing and smell much more than his own. Her urgency hinted that Sango was indeed nearby, and Kira could find her quickly.

                                    They covered a short amount of distance before a voice halted them.*

                                    'It seems all our players are in place. Let`s begin, shall we?'

                                    *Weightless and airy the young voice warned them of the start of something. Players? This was a game, and whatever was to become of it mustn`t be given solidity, else the player loses. A sudden flash blinded him briefly, stinging his eyes. He made point to grab Kiras small wrist, keeping her with him. Seconds, later he blinked his eyes into focus again as the ground shifted and creaked beneath them. The air that surrounded them was heated, a light gust licking against his robes before dabbing him with speckles of snowy ash.  Miroku`s nose twitched—he could smell the strong scent of burning timber and thatched roof huts.  It was usually light and sweet, but this time quite the opposite.  It drowned his senses as it not only overpowered the usual forest air but swirled with that putrid stench.  Flesh, burning until it was charred to the bone.  He could imagine how the cackling sound of the immense heat was like the sound of bones snapping beneath the pit of flames.  They danced along the remainders of homes and buildings, viciously snapping into the chilly air before repeating again. 

                                    There were no screams; just the sounds of destruction.  He sensed Kira`s small frame tense, and he turned his attention to her.  Wide eyes were glazed, struck by something in the horizon beneath layers of smoke.  It was difficult to see, the smoke stinging his eyes.  They watered, his lids shivering to blink as a response.  If he weren`t used to this sensation his eyes would have begun tearing by now. They knew this village- most of it anyway.

                                    Miroku suddenly felt a sharp tug at his arm as Kira ripped herself free of him. Blades of grass crushed under the light weight, and as Miroku quickly registered want happened, he spotted Kira sprinting through the thin path which led deeper into the village. He inhaled sharply, the small child was moving quickly once again, and he could only manage to grasp a pinch of her clothing before losing his grip completely. The girl was gone, her feet leaving a small trail into the dirt road as she took a heavier step than the last, her desperation driving her to ignore all which surrounded her. *


                                    'Kira!  Stop, come back!'


                                    *But the fires snapped as he reached forward, as if attempting to hold the monk in place.  They burned his fresh lacerations, the blood which had trickled singeing into his skin.  He grunted, retracting his arm back before concealing a part of his face with his sleeve.  These flames were growing dangerously quick.  It was almost abnormal, and he knew it well that these fires weren`t natural.

                                    Miroku turned his attention forward again, the child still managed to be within sight.  But she was fading quickly, her stubbornness and desperation only pulling her further from safety.  Whatever Kira was approaching brought worry to Miroku—he had to get her quick, that`s all he could manage to muster up within his thoughts just as the scream pierced the night sky.  It was high and loud, filling every inch of the village.  Miroku`s body felt heavy—he knew that voice well, and it called. 

                                    No, pleaded.

                                    The monk`s jaw clenched, an expression of shock in his face as he jerked his head towards the direction of the sound. “Sango?” he spoke, the word stumbling out of his lips.  Her voice had cracked, pain lacing the one word as it tortured his very psyche.  Something was terribly wrong* 

                                    'SANGO!'

                                    * Miroku proceeded to running towards her, but he stopped in his tracks.  With his teeth clenching he turned his head back towards the direction of Kira, his eyes filled with intensity as powerful as the fires that surrounded him.  His instincts wanted him to search for Sango, but he knew well that Kira needed him just as much.  If only the child had stayed with him, he thought.  With a grip so deadly he held onto his staff until his fingers ached, his heart racing as time ticked away. This wasn`t real. It was fantasized. He knew Kira was real, she was just in his grasp. Her voice however could be a trick. But then again he knew Sango was somewhere within this realm as well. *







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Devoted Slayer

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          ‘Damn it all.’

          *By the time Hidama’s voice echoed through the cavern Sango was already taking a knee. Her weight hung heavy onto Hiraikotsu as she heaved for breath. Her skin was sweaty and feverish, and her inhales were dry and shallow. Even breathing through her mask showed little promise.

          Her eyes were clamped shut as the transformation occurred. The darkness melted away to bright light, turning the back of her eyelids red. Grass suddenly tickled the hand she had plastered to the ground. For a moment she thought, just maybe, Miroku had freed her from the realm. But the sound of burning wood spoke differently, and the putrid scent of death invaded the thin air beneath her mask. She pulled it off, coughing, and took her first look around.

          She recognized the area immediately. The well to her right was in shambles, the wood splintered out in unnatural jutting formations. Aged blood seemed to paint their pointed edges. She stared at it a moment longer, wondering about the odd shape – and what bloody mess it seemed to have cocooned itself around. The smell was enough to make her want to wretch.*

          ‘It’s fake. Nothing here is real. Don’t get yourself in trouble.’

          *With a strained noise she hoisted herself to her feet, her legs humming from the lack of oxygen. She took a step, and a vile pain stabbed her mind. Groaning she clamped her hand against the side of her temple, dragging herself slowly along the path. Despite the pain she tried to think of a strategy. It would be best to avoid their home entirely. She didn’t know what horrors would be waiting for her there. And given her fragile state of mind, she didn’t want to know. She’d have to find some part of the village that she had no connection to, something that would not effect her, and try to find the seams in Hidama’s world.*

          -

          *From his station outside the realm Hidama narrowed his eyes. Tricky humans, indeed. Neither were falling for his games. The monk seemed to be frozen in indecision. He couldn’t reach Kira beyond the flames but also would not fall for the fake cry of his wife.

          The taijiya, on the other hand, avoided the scene he’d put so much energy and detail into making.
          He thought quick, and unseen to the being within his realm, things began to morph and adjust to the changes.*

          -

          *Sango stared at it a long while. It was carelessly dropped on the path before her – a tattered piece of cloth. It was pink, the edge of a yellow bow pattern barely visible where it had been torn. Her eyes were seared by the image, her heart sinking. But she ignored it soon after, and continued down the path.*

          ‘It’s not real. None of this is real.’

          *She said this to herself even as she passed more scraps of clothing – pink, soft green, and checkered blue. The further she progressed the more bloodstained they became. The sound of crunching soon began to arrest her ears. Like a large creature snapping bones with its teeth.
          The shrill screech of an infant suddenly bellowed from the path in front of her. Against her better nature instincts kicked in, and she bounded toward the sound.*

          Yoshihiro!

          *There was a sudden gust of wind as she charged out to the forest edge, signaling the creature’s escape. The sounds were gone, and so was her boy. Just tattered robes and bloody puddles. Sango made a desperate noise in her throat, finding it impossible to breathe. Her feet fell forward, and she gripped the surface in front of her. It was the side of the shrine – on fire, and soon to collapse. Bracing her weight against it she wobbled hand over hand to the front of the building.

          The village beyond the stairs was absolutely destroyed. Huts were still ablaze, and the bodies of their neighbors littered the ground. And there among the horrific sights and smells stood but one man. Kuroshiro.
          Her nails dug angrily into the wood of the shrine*

          You b*****d.

          *Seeing his face, something snapped. She remembered everything. He’d taken her away from her family when they needed her. He’d tortured her, mutilated her, and sent her soul to hell. He used her body as a puppet and tried to kill her loved ones. He sullied her hands in killing dozens of innocent villagers before that.

          Rage gave her new strength. Even if she could remember this was an illusion, she didn’t care. She wanted him dead.

          She ran the rest of the way to the top of the stone stairs, wrenched Hiraikotsu from her back, and whirled it with inhuman power toward her target below. Before it even hit she was sprinting with deadly poise down the stairwell, her wakizashi in hand.

          The sound of whirling wind parting the smoke and fire nearest him was Miroku’s only warning.*



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Striking Lover

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                                    *The heat was nearly searing at his skin while he thought.  That scream. . . . it was possible it wasn’t real. Miroku knew that running towards the plea was a dangerous chance.  Clenching his teeth he glanced back to Kira’s direction, but only to see that the fires had spread even more. Walling off his line of sight. He struggled to see her—in fact he could not see her at all. *
                                     
                                    'Kira!'


                                    *His voice cascaded through the air, reverberating from the walls and back to him.  Upon earning no response he surveyed the demolished surroundings once more.  He looked for somewhere clear—a safe opening for him to begin his search.   The fires grew closer, and Miroku became weary of the sudden proximity. He quickly stepped out of their path, keeping a fast pace as he made his way through the side of the village.  He remembered the shrine not far off, with a fair outlook of the village below.  It would serve as a good vantage point.  He sprinted forward, making sure to avoid and dodge the hazardous buildings that crumbled from the excessive heat. 
                                     
                                    Each step made his body seem heavier and heavier.  His lungs weighed him down, sweat forming along his brow line.  The air wasn’t much clearer there, and he noticed that the shrine gate itself was decrepit like the now petty looking village he had once considered home. Skidding to a stop the monk glanced at the terrible sight, unsure of how to take it. *
                                     
                                    ' It`s all fake.'
                                     
                                    * His heart wrenched at this—he was genuinely disturbed by it all even though he reminded himself it was an illusion. In his new location he had no way of seeing the streets of the village properly.  The air was thick with grey smoke, carrying ash that still sizzled with a glowing fair orange. Raising his arm he concealed his nose and down, his lungs cringing for clean air.

                                    His ears perked. Through the deafening sound of roaring flames and creaking building he caught the faint sound of the  Hiraikotsu slicing through the thickened air. He glanced over his shoulder, quickly confirming his suspicion. Knowing fully well that he couldn`t stop the force of the fierce weapon, he considered his options and spotted the hut just to his right. He crashed through the weakened side wall of the burning building. He felt the earth tremble from the massive weapon embedding itself deep into the mixture of dirt and stone. Once inside the hut, He quickly surveyed his surroundings finding them familiar and the rubble of the structure he was in reminded him that he had been there before. It was Keade`s hut. The opening behind him groaned and snapped, causing the left half of the building to collapse on itself; blocking the way and buckling the supports.

                                    Around him the heat felt as intense as the incoming attack he had avoided. The fire in his eyes caused his vision to blur, making it hard to get a handle on on the rest of his surroundings. The weapon was Sangos, but he had no time to see if it was actually her or another manifestation that had thrown it. If it was really her, then why was she attacking him? Unless she was being forced to perceive him as something else. . .

                                    With his staff in hand and regaining his whits, he steadied himself just as the bamboo curtain over the doorway was slashed apart by Sango`s wakazashi. Revealing her poised figure and violent gaze through the smoke. The glint of fire in her eyes was almost enough to freeze Miroku in place. He knew his next move would decide the fate of not only his life but the lives of his children. If in the confusion of this illusion Sango had truly reverted to her possessed state, he would have no choice but to fight back in full.

                                    Sango lunged forward at him with a powerful downward thrust as if attempting to cleave him in half where he stood. He side stepped the attack and used the bottom of his staff to direct her energy towards the now demolished corner of the building. He used this opening to escape the area and get himself outside. Sango having recovered from his diversion made her way out of the burning after him. *






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Friendly Pup

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                                                              *Vision compromised with tears, Kira barely had time to dodge the low shrubs as she made her way through. She didn’t know where she was going. Just as soon as she’d seen her brother and caught his scent, he had bounded out of existence again. She didn’t even know if she was going in the right direction anymore.

                                                              The small wolf skid to a halt and panted for breath, eyes darting around anxiously. Part of her had heard Sango’s scream and knew she should follow it. However she’d acted on impulse – and no matter how much she loved her mother figure, her brother came first. That’s what her father had always told her.

                                                              She didn’t seem to be in danger from any of the flames. Strangely they hugged the village tightly and refused to spread to the forest beyond. It relieved her some to know that Keikaru wouldn’t get hurt by them, and calmed her until she was breathing evenly.

                                                              With an even exhale Kira began to sniff the air. There was nothing but putrid smells in the direction of the village. The forest smelt as it always did, and there was only one scent amongst it. It was foreign, and if she were older she may have been suspicious of it. Her instincts told her it would be alright to approach.

                                                              Within a fourth of a mile she found its source. Kira stayed hidden in the brush for a moment, observing the creature before her. It was a demon woman, motionless, and seemingly staring into space. There didn’t seem to be anything malicious about her, so the wolf tentatively stepped from her cover.*

                                                              Excuse me?

                                                              *The woman glanced sideways at her, crimson eyes catching the light of the sunset through the trees. Kira wrung her hands together at the woman’s silent question and pressed on.*

                                                              Have you seen a little boy pass by?

                                                              *The woman was silent for a few more long seconds, before she turned her upper body to fully face the small child. She extended a languid hand to her, and Kira hesitantly accepted.*
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Interesting Hunter

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*Inuyasha could feel the mikos gaze on him as she examined the few tears in his haori but he continued to look off into the distance listening to her speak not really focusing on anything in particular*

Heh i'm fine.

And yea we've managed to get them on the little pipsqueak *grumbles more so to himself then anyone*

and it seems like they just electricute him

*The displeasement of what the beads do to the imp was obvious all over his face but he didnt really care if she saw. He had gotten his hopes up about someone else suffering his same fate and to him it seemed like the little brat got off easier then his own beads. Eating dirt continuously wasn't at all fun or pleasant and not that he'd admit it out loud but at times were painful.*

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                                                            ‘It’s not real.’

                                                            Despite the small voice of her subconscious Sango trailed her prey with blazing eyes. She knew she was being utterly manipulated by the illusions, but the curse in her blood spurred her forward regardless. Her mind throbbed with an endless pain that seemed to separate her will from her sense of reason.

                                                            Miroku knew this all too well. He was caught between the idea of fleeing completely or trying to rescue her from the curse’s grip. As before, his feet froze with indecision as he watched her exit the unstable hut. Its last reserves gave way and came crashing down in a flurry of embers, tinting Sango’s silhouette an ominous red. The fire’s heat and tones also refracted off the translucent aura surrounding her – giving shape to the fearsome wings that unfurled with her calculated strut. The eyes of the curse bore heavy on his person, watching his every move.

                                                            When Sango moved to unearth Hiraikotsu from its embedded home in the road he took a step backward. Two fingers slipped into the fold of his koromo and locked themselves around an ofuda. Again he hesitated. When Sango’s curse acted up in the past he was able to subdue it with sutras – but then what? She would be rendered unconscious. If Hidama decided to cast her from his illusion in that state, she would not be able to defend herself against the darklings.

                                                            The Hiraikotsu didn’t give him proper time to think.

                                                            As soon as it was in her grasp Sango sent the weapon flying at him again. Miroku leapt to his left to avoid it, turning his head briefly to watch it sail through a burning residence with ease. When he refocused his attention he barely had time to protect himself against a glint of silver. The shakujo shook with counterforce as Sango’s wakizashi clashed against it. She withdrew to slash again and he blocked all her attempts in quick succession. There was a whirling beside him, and he flinched as the distraction allowed her an opening. The taijiya’s foot barreled into his stomach to push him out of her way. Her fingers curled around the returning bone’s handle, and he ducked before she had the chance to lop his head off with it.

                                                            There wasn’t a second’s room for hesitation. She used the weapon’s momentum to catch her weight and swung her leg out under him. He hit the ground on his back as Hiraikotsu looped around her form. Its thrust suddenly shifted vertically and he rolled – rubble showering him as she bashed the weapon into the dirt where his torso recently lay.

                                                            He caught the angry nocturnal glint in her eyes as she threw her weapon up, still intent to smash him into the ground. As she curled forward with the effort he shot him feet out and caught her weight – bending his spine and launching her over his shoulders.


                                                            Despite landing in a hard tumble with Hiraikotsu Sango did her best to recover. She could hear Kuroshiro already getting to his feet behind her. Spinning into a slow crouch she withdrew her blade again and glowered at him. He was just standing there, scythe in hand, with an indescribably haughty expression etched across his grey features. He hadn’t even made a move to strike her – just counter her own. Was this fun to him? After he’d destroyed everything, she was just another thing to keep himself amused with?

                                                            A soft chuckle floated out from behind his pearly smile, and she felt her blood boil.

                                                            “Fight back, you coward!!”

                                                            “I will not!”

                                                            The sharp sound of metal echoed through the village as Sango engaged another round of swordplay. No matter what he said Miroku could not get through to her. Instead his careworn and frustrated expression was replaced with one of sinister delight. With every crash of her sword a new wave of laughter emitted from her opponent. The sound was destroying her. The further she fought the more she could feel the inner barriers of her mind come undone. He was a step ahead of her every attack. He blocked her just to see her fail again.

                                                            That indulgent laugh rang in her ears and deafened her.
                                                            The strength in her limbs was waning, and it was suddenly hard to breathe again.

                                                            It felt as though her mind was being pierced with blistering hot metal.


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Devoted Slayer

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                                                          Miroku knew there was something going on beneath the surface. The strategy behind Sango’s attacks became predictable and desperate. She became more vocal, and her eyes were glossy with sudden moisture. Whatever Hidama was making her experience was upsetting her greatly. But it wasn’t just him. Her strength faltered, and the glistening aura behind her flashed vibrantly. She suddenly stumbled and gripped the side of her head. An abrupt sickness flooded his emotions through their spirit bond.

                                                          Something downright evil was vying for control over Sango.

                                                          “I can’t --”

                                                          Staggering backwards the taijiya relinquished her hold on the blade, both hands pressed tightly to her temples. He tried to follow but a sudden flare of dark energy repelled him. The fierce aura whipped around her like a vortex, stirring the air and wrenching pained noises from his wife’s lips. He could sense her pure energy flicker like an unstable candle in the wind – a sinister substitute rising and threatening to smother it.

                                                          Her opponent long forgotten, Sango fell to her knees and poured her agony out in a useless holler.

                                                          Stupefied, Miroku stared on as the cursed black wings began to solidify. Their crimson slit eyes burned ominously, daring him to intervene.

                                                          He had to do something. Even if he risked killing them both, he refused to watch helplessly as his wife’s soul was torn from her body. Gripping tight at his mala beads the monk advanced, shrouding himself in a barrier to avoid the violent and poisonous aura.

                                                          Keeping the barrier as skintight as possible Miroku pushed past the semi transparent wings that had begun to cocoon Sango. When he found her he had to remember to maintain his concentration. The transformation was already taking effect. Her complexion was as pale as death, and the delicate skin around her clenched eyes and lips had turned a deep crimson. Her hair had come loose of its tie, and now swirled around the both of them in a sea of black tresses. Only until he grabbed her shoulders did she open her eyes – fierce despite her pain, and definitely not her own. Her beautiful brown eyes were lost under the iridescence of Kuroshiro’s possession.

                                                          “Get the – ******** away from me,” she graveled out menacingly.

                                                          “Sango … please.”

                                                          Leaning forward Miroku pressed the slayer into his arms. Tucking his head against the crook of her shoulder he crushed her to him, the mala beads and shakujo crossing her back and clenched in a white knuckled grip. She went rigid in his arms immediately, and he spent his efforts keeping their contact close and trying to engulf her in his spiritual powers.

                                                          Sango’s mind could not process this level of wretchedness. The being she hated most in this world was embracing her. His face was pressed against her neck, and his voice whispered disgusting prospects in her ear. Her clawing and struggling were not enough to dislodge him. She’d also dropped Hiraikotsu and her sword, leaving her options limited. It didn’t matter to her. She’d kill him or die trying.

                                                          Straightening her arm as much as possible Sango rolled and twisted her wrist. The pattern triggered several ties on her arm, and the sickle blade tore free of her suit. Bending her arm in an almost painful angle she thrust the blade into the tender flesh below Kuroshiro’s shoulder blade. She didn’t stop there. Raising the blade from its shallow trench she struck again. Over and over she carved lacerations across what portions of his back she could reach. Still he would not let her go.
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