It was everywhere...
In the air, spilled across the ground, soaked into once pristine, white clothes, and smeared across his beautiful, impossibly angelic face.
Blood.
No! Please, dear God, if you can hear me, no! she thought desperately, as she struggled painfully slow across the crimson splashed dirt. She was unable to stand and go to him. Her pitifully human body she once thought just as capable as any demons was now too wounded to do anything but crawl. A demon's claw embedded deeply in her left thigh prevented her from standing.
Hands caked black from dirt and blood clawed at the land with chipped and broken nails. Like the rest of her, they were feeble as she tried to use them to propel herself forward.
Why? she mentally wailed, forever continuing onward. Why, did this have to happen?
She dug her elbows into the ground in an effort to get to her destination. Her badly injured leg was bent, her inner thigh sliding through the gore and scarlet puddles, while her right leg was of more help stretched out. With her toe digging into the ground, she used it to push her aching body forward. Her legs worked together with her arms in her efforts to move.
It was slow going, so slow, she could almost cry if she let her growing despair overwhelm her mind. She gritted her teeth, denying defeat, denying the fatigue and seeming futility of her drive.
Her clothes, that of a miko, were badly stained and ripped. She had worn them with pride as she stood at his side just a few hours ago, committed to her future and the battle that lay ahead. Where was that pride now? Hidden under the many lacerations and bruises that marred her youthful body? Under the grime that changed her once white completion to varying shades of black, browns, and the ever present red?
It was everywhere. It filled her vision so that all she saw was red.
No, it was in her eye. She could feel her own blood ooze from a gash on her forehead, run into her right eye, almost blinding that eye. Her hair, too, obstructed her vision. Instead of wearing it in the common miko style, she had worn her long, black tresses down, knowing he preferred it that way. She remembered how he loved to entangle his claw tipped fingers in her hair.
Why was breathing so hard? Her chest was tight. Why wasn't she moving? She had to keep going. Move, damn it. Move!
She no longer looked to where she was headed, her body aromatically answering her will, or trying to. She was so tired, her muscles arched. Everywhere hurt.
How could she have ever thought that a weak human like herself could ever stand by his side? To stand as his equal? Fool!
Move! Don't stop. Not until...
Something touched her head lightly, and she froze, uncertain. Was she to be killed then like all the others? She waited what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds. Her heart sluggish, unable to pound in her anxiety, her blood unable to rush as it was steadily seeped into the greedy ground to join in the pools of blood surrounding her. But nothing happened. No blow struck. No sound uttered. Nothing.
Too weak to lift her heavy head, she shifted her left hand forward to touch whatever obstructed her way. It felt like leather. Round. No, oval? A shoe!
Somehow she was able to force her head up centimeter by centimeter until finally she saw the sole of a black, leather boot. She turned her head to the left and saw another black boot with what used to be white hakama cinched at the top of the black leather, now as filthy as her own once white haori.
Her cracked lips parted, a sob escaping as she realized she had finally made it. Just a little farther and she'd be curled up next to him. She had to keep moving. She had to!
She swerved to her right and made her slow, forward crawl. She came up to his knee then passing it, crawling next to his thigh, which she noticed had a large rip in it. His pant leg was almost completely torn off, revealing alabaster skin smeared in blood, surrounding a terrible, meaty wound.
Though she was becoming accustomed to the sight of the red substance, she hated it. Hated seeing it. Hated smelling it. Its coppery, iron scent was all her weak nose could pick up. At least she was passed gagging now. She didn't have the strength to vomit anymore. Even if she did, only dry heaves would shake her form, as she long since purged herself unwillingly of her stomach's contents.
Now she passed his hip and came up to his chest. She could no longer differentiate between the beautiful, red, flower pattern that graced his kimono with the blood that seemed to be everywhere. So much blood.
She almost couldn't detect his hair in some places; its silver shine dimmed and muted with dirt and grim and more blood.
Stopping at his shoulders, she made a herculean effort to prop herself on her elbows and lean over him, her beautiful inuyoukai. She tried to move her left hand over his chest, but intense pain made her pause in the attempt. Turning her head once more, this time she gazed uncomprehendingly at the end of an arrow shaft protruding from her left shoulder.
Where... her mind tried to comprehend, before she discarded the thought. What did it matter?
Somehow, she forced her hand to move up to cup his right cheek despite the wound, trying to remove the blood to see the familiar purple set of stripes hidden beneath. It was a welcome change in color and calmingly familiar when they were revealed.
Golden orbs opened slowly at her persistent stroking to lock with her chocolate brown gaze. Recognition sparked in his lovely eyes.
Her hand went down to lay on his shoulder; his armor had been long since destroyed.
“Sesshomaru,” Kagome whispered, too weak to speak any louder.
He lifted his lips in a half-smirk, an arrogant look gleaming in his eyes. “Kagome, my mate.”
Kagome's eyes turned troubled and ever so sad as she slowly, with effort, shook her head. “No, Sesshomaru. Just a weak, human.”
She heard as well as felt his chest rumble in a soft yet menacing growl. “You are mine.”
She tried to argue, to tell him she would never be strong enough to ever be by his side, but he wouldn't allow the words to fall as he lifted his head and kissed her lightly.
She tasted blood, but she didn't care, not now. Her right hand went to cradle the back of his head to continue the chaste kiss a few seconds longer. Oh, how she loved him. With just one, small touch, he was able to convey to her his own undying love and banish her thoughts of inadequacy. Her Sesshomaru.
Her love.
He lowered his head, but she did not remove her hand, pillowing his silver head with her palm and gifted him with a small smile, unaware of the dried blood that ran from her lips and down her chin.
“I love you, Sesshomaru.”
He returned her smile with a grin. “And I you, mate.”
“Ne, Sesshomaru?”
“Hn?”
“Do you remember what today is?”
He didn't say anything but continued to gaze up into her eyes as they continued to smile at one another. He felt her hand move on his cheek again, drawing a symbol he had learned from her was a heart.
Kagome drew a heart from the blood coating her fingers.
“Happy Valentine's Day.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Well I didn't expect to write anything like this, but I'm glad I did. I got the idea from Sheridan's fanart 'Tragic Valentine.' She does amazing drawings and art work. Her picture says she was looking for someone to make her picture into some kind of story, so I hope I did her piece justice.