Book of Longing by Demona Leigh

Prologue

Book of Longing

Prologue

She had never dreamed that they would be doomed. Their struggle had been the classic clash of good versus evil. She had truly believed that they would defeat Naraku, set things right, and live happily ever after.

Miroku's kazana would close; Sango would have her brother back; Inu-Yasha and Kikyo would finally have closure; Koga would avenge his comrades.

Though they had defeated Naraku, the cost had been great.

Kohaku had cut down his own sister; Miroku had taken so many youkai into the wind tunnel that eventually it became too much; Koga had not been strong enough to stand against Naraku; Inu-Yasha had fought hard and long, had dealt the deathblow but only at the cost of his own life. (Despite his crass behaviour, deep down he had always been too heroic for his own good.) Kikyo had sacrificed herself to purify the dying Naraku.

Kagome Higurashi had gotten lucky. With so many opponents, Naraku had scarce paid her any mind. Still, she'd been hurt and for a long time after the battle, she lay on the miasma soiled ground. She was bleeding from a deep gash at her side, ironically from the same side The Shikon no Tama was been expelled three years earlier.

Kagome did not know where the jewel was now and couldn't bring herself to care.

In her darkest hours, when she'd considered her death, she had always imagined that she would remember the best of times with her family, both by blood and her extended family of this era. So she was vaguely surprised when all she felt was numb, tired, and a bit relieved.

Through her dying haze, she felt more than saw a tall, male figure loom over her. Kagome squinted through blurry vision up into a face framed by luxurious silver hair that was streaked with blood.

Sessho-Maru stood over her, splattered in gore and blood. She felt fairly sure that little of it was his. He looked to her, in that moment, like an ancient death god.

His expression blank, he tore a wide strip of unsoiled fabric from the sleeve of his haori. He did it with his teeth, had somehow managed to look dignified as he did so.

Kagome was surprised when he knelt at her side and pushed the brocaded silk against her wound. He put pressure on it, pressed down so hard she feared he might break her ribs.

"Why are you--?" she breathed.

"Quiet," His voice was low, almost soothing, "Don't speak."

Kagome didn't feel like arguing with him; it took too much energy to talk anyway. For a small eternity, he knelt there, still as a statue, pressing the cloth against her side.

"You have lost a lot of blood," Sessho-Maru informed her softly, "but you will live."

His words cut her deep as any insult he'd leveled upon her. She wanted to cry out, beg him not to save her.

Sessho-Maru left the silk like a makeshift bandage against the wound and lifted her easily up to cradle her in his one arm. She felt like a child, huddled up against his body.

Weakly, she lifted her head to look into his face. Had she enough strength, she would have laughed. When she'd first encountered him, all that time ago, over the first battle for tetsusaiga, she had been struck by how lovely he was and yet how terribly cruel. It had distressed her, disturbed her in a way she had never understood. Strange now to be held by him, taken care of. Kagome couldn't imagine what he was thinking.

"I am taking you somewhere safe so that you can recover," Sessho-Maru's voice impinged on her thoughts.

Kagome rested her head on his shoulder, nodded slowly. He smelled of blood and death, yet it did not bother her. She was used to such acrid scents by now.

A blinding light enveloped them, wrapped around their bodies like a womb. Kagome was too tired to understand or question what was going on. She felt light and formless, helpless and yet oddly protected.

Before the destination was reached, Kagome had fainted, fallen into a deep, dreamless oblivion.

To be continued....