InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Half-Breed ❯ Chapter III ( Chapter 5 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: rockthedragon7 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.27.2005 | Updated On: 03.31.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 176 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.27.2005 | Updated On: 03.31.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 176 | Status: Completed
Half-Breed: Chapter III
I ran, as far and as fast as my young legs could carry me, until one day later, I stumbled with exhaustion into a woodland away to the east of the ruins that once were my home, and the death that once was my life. I wept, face down on the leaf-littered ground for all that I had lost, and for all those disillusioned pleas to sweep my mind clean again, yet I could not get the images from my head… could not dismiss the vision of my fallen mother from my mind - her gray, frozen skin, her cold hands, her eyes… the starlight was dead. I lay there for all of that day, and part of the next, feeling as lifeless as the light in her eyes, wishing, praying for some beast, some god to take away my agony. The pain of claw or fang could not be as the pain of loss, never as the pain of loss. But nothing came, and I dragged myself to a small clump of bushes, seeking to forget in sleep. Could I forget? Could I cease to remember the flames which consumed my hope; the screams of the women as their bodies were turned into garlands of smoke; their futile pleas to a heartless, black sky; the nocturnal silence that deprived me of the aspiration to live; the instants that murdered my soul and crooked my dreams to dust? Could I forget my mother, and her last likeness in my head - livid, and pale, and looking so very old? No. No, never will I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live forever. Never.
I was worn out. I was beat. I collapsed unconscious to the dirt, and never did I feel so at ease to let the darkness of slumber take over me. Sweet silence, beautiful darkness. There were no screams, there were no flames, there was not the scent of fire. Maybe here, in this still night, I could forget.
I’m not sure how long it was that I slept. Hours? Days? My eyes cracked open, and my senses woke up. The smell of damp leaves and dirt filled my nose, and I could feel the cool earth pressed against my tear-stained face. The wind rustled through the boughs above my head, and there was songbirds chirping somewhere among the trees. And - please, no! - I remembered. My face screwed up in a desperate attempt to freeze my cries, but they came without fail. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Wretched sobs were wrenched from my chest. I buried my head in my arms as if I could block out the heartbroken images in my mind. “Why!?” I cried out, and the birds ceased to sing - could they feel the pain in my voice? “Why!?” I wanted the world to hear me. I wanted the whole world to suffer my grief. I wanted it to know what its hate had done.
I bit my arm, sunk my fangs in deep, to stifle my sobs. Blood welled up against my teeth, and the taste filled my mouth, coppery and sharp, and the tears stopped little by little. My cries came as hiccupping, uneven little breaths, and I finally lifted my fangs away. My blood-caked arm was throbbing painfully and shaking. Physical pain helped. It let my mind visit something else for the time. Already, my demon qualities were at work to mend the cuts, darning and healing methodically and meticulously at the broken skin and torn muscle.
There was a sudden snarl, low and ominous, and my ears flicked forward. I held my breath, heard my heart pounding in my head, felt my form become taut. My eyes searched the brushwood, my ears rotated and hitched. The silence swiftly became heavy, and the forest unexpectedly seemed to be closing in around me. I forced myself to swallow, though my mouth had gone dry, and guardedly pushed myself to my hands and knees at a snail’s pace.
A russet, sinuous form slipped from the scrubs, like an unkempt, ratty weasel, three feet tall and eight long, head low, red eyes burning. [Demon.] I went still. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. I don’t know if I was afraid, or just surprised, but I didn’t move. All I could do was stare back, right at those fiery eyes. It looked at me, and I looked at it. The smell of my blood must have drawn it to me. The demon’s lips had curled back into a wicked expression that resembled a malevolent grin, showing off numerous jagged teeth. The fur at the base of its neck stood on end. Its back legs tamped beneath it. The snarl became an open-mouth shriek that was hurting to my ears, and the beast lunged toward me, slavering jaws snapping wildly. [Move!] My feet came under me, too quick for me to register the movement, and I scrambled backwards, avoiding those razor teeth. The demon’s claws whipped outward, slicing a slab from my left ankle, and I lurched and stumbled to my knees. But the demon did not come forward. It simply stood there, eyeing me, growling low and forebodingly in its throat. I stared, whether in fear or confusion, you decide.
“Keep away from this place, little half-blood,” the demon snarled in a voice that sounded as both a woman and a monster, spitting out ‘half-blood’ as though it was a curse. “I’ll not allow for tainted blood spilled here. Be gone from here, young half-breed, before my temper bends.” It turned away, that stretched, twisting body sliding back through the brush.
My breathing was haggard and raucous in my own ears, my eyes were wide, and my heart was pounding madly in my chest. The adrenaline began to wear away, and in its place came agonizing, stabbing pain. I let out a yelp, and wrapped my trembling hands around my gushing ankle, gritting my teeth at the hurt. Blood pooled beneath my leg, staining the dirt black, coating my foot and layering my fingers. There were tears in my eyes now, and I rocked back and forth, clutching my ankle. I took in sharp breaths, biting back the pain.
There was a growl from the trees, and I knew that my time was running short and the strangely gracious demon’s patience was wearing thin. I had to leave. I had to leave now. I leapt up, screaming at the pain shooting up my leg, and toppled back to my knees. I hastily scrabbled at the ground with my claws, delving long gouges into the dirt, scrambling forward until I could pull my good leg beneath me. I took a step, pitching to the side as my weight fell on my injured ankle, but managed to keep my balance as I leaned against the sturdy trunk of a tree, and I limped away, timidly glancing over my shoulder only once to see those red eyes glinting back at me.
Night fell, cloudy and dark, and still I walked lamely through the forest. Most of the pain was gone, and in its place was a blunt throbbing ache. My surroundings passed me unnoticed in a sort of fuzzy blur as I set one foot in front of the other mechanically. My head was full of empty, heartrending thoughts, and I wrapped my arms tight about myself. I felt cold, felt tired. I felt sick. I wanted to go home… to what? There was nothing to go home to. There was not even home. I let out a shivering sigh, my breath fogging in the cold air, and fell kneeling at the base of an old sugi. Where was I to go? What creature of sound mind would take pity on a wretched thing such as me? I turned my eyes upward to the hoary, aged branches like knotted arms as they stretched up to the cloud-covered moon. Somewhere in my heart, I pleaded to the old tree, “Please help me, please.” And the silence offered by the crooked boughs came to my ears as, “I shall.”
I found safe haven there in those twisted arms, in that treetop. It wasn’t a palace - it was cold and drafty and far from comfortable - but it did me good in this land where the hunter can swiftly become the hunted. It was troublesome learning to sleep in the branches of a tree. Seven times in that first night I spent in a treetop I had fallen. Seven times I had swallowed a mouthful of dirt and soggy leaves. Seven times I had climbed back up. Oh, I didn’t blame the tree - it was doing the best it could at any rate. In fact, I thanked the old sugi, because it had taught me to be ever vigilant. My senses no longer fell asleep when I did.
Yet, I could not help but sneer. This place I called refuge could not be more opposite Sesshomaru’s wonderfully warm and cozy castle, and I was resentful. He had hundreds of servants, a harem no doubt, and a land full of demons at his beck and call. I lived on nature’s garbage. I wanted a restful home, a snug bed, and a steaming meal, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they.
As dawn broke and my eyes opened, the first thing to strike me was overwhelming hunger. I doubled over at the ache, clutching my stomach and groaning. There were no thoughts of tragedy or death or fear in my head. All of a sudden, only survival mattered. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast three days before, and although the thought of raw meat wasn’t particularly appealing, I felt that my foot was beginning to look rather appetizing.
There was a great splash and a shower of water as I toppled into the forest stream and grappled to my feet, sprinting after the little brown squirrel that would serve my hunger for the time being… if I caught it - and I’m mortified to acknowledge that I was lacking rather in my hunting abilities. I leapt ahead, claws swiping at the tiny animal, and succeeded only in diving face-first into the sodden ground as the furry creature easily evaded my fingers and scurried away up a tree, disappearing into the dark hollow of its home. I lifted my head, baring my teeth in rage, my face now decorated with a multitude of scratches. “Stupid squirrel!” I pushed myself up from the land and got to my unsteady feet, furiously turning in a circle, searching the surrounding trees with angry eyes for the animal. I backed away a few steps, my expression melting from outrage to despair. Who was I trying to kid? I couldn’t hunt worth shit. I was going to die, cold, alone, and hungry.
Quite suddenly, I lost my footing and tumbled down a hill, landing hard atop a large round object, layered with a thin coat of graying fuzz. For a moment, I just laid there, dazed and listening to the unusual grunting sounds that it made, taking in the strange musty scent until it forcibly tossed me to the dirt. I struggled to sit up as the beast turned toward me, and I froze when I found myself staring into the seasoned face of an old spider demon, a set of husky ivory fangs jutting from its mouth, and crimson eyes peering out from underneath shaggy white eyebrows, and eight spiny legs trimmed with yellow stripes that were fading with great age. I scrambled to back away, just to prevent yet another demon from picking its teeth with my bones.
The spider demon furrowed its wrinkled brow at me, noticing the tears forming in my eyes, and the whimpers of fear that fled from my lips. “What’s wrong? You aren’t hurt,” it spoke in a gruff and stern, yet calm voice. “Come, now. Dry your eyes, lad.” Hesitantly, I raised an arm to my eyes, and I brushed the tears away. “Now then, why all the tears?”
“It’s all her fault! She should have known better!” I cried. “She didn’t try to get away! She didn’t!” I turned my gaze to the ground, a stray tear tumbling down my dirt-stained face. “Stupid demons,” I said quietly, wiping my eyes again with my sleeve.
The spider seemed surprised, and arched his eyebrows at my words. I had even taken myself aback, and wondered why I had said what I did. Wasn’t I afraid of this demon, this six-foot, three-thousand-pound arachnid who could mill my body into dust under one huge foot? Why was I telling this beast what troubled my heart? The demon took a step toward me with one long, thorny leg, its voice gone soft with sympathy and its eyes gone understated. “You listen to old Kumo. It is nobody’s fault.”
I took in a sad, quivering breath. “But I miss her so much.”
“And so you always will, but the feeling with fade,” Kumo responded with a kind understanding, his rough voice sounding rather awkward with empathy. “She’ll always be right here with you.” He gently tapped my chest with a bristly leg. “Right here.” Kumo’s toothy mouth turned up into a soft smile. “The pain will go in time, lad. Only in time.” With that, he slowly turned himself around and lumbered burdensomely away through the trees to leave me on my own, his caring words hanging in my mind.
Time was all that I had left. My life would long outlast a human’s, a tree’s, a river’s. Throughout my years I could watch mountains move, and forests change, and I could see stones wear away, and empires collapse. Time wouldn’t make me forget. My memory would not grow careworn like a rock on a riverbed, and would not disappear over the years. But perhaps time could dull the hurt. Watching after the kindhearted old spider for a moment, I stood, and started in the opposite direction through the woods.
In the stillness of that melancholy night, as I sat in a branching treetop, I assembled the last fading memories of my mother’s beautiful scent in my head. Sakura trees and spring showers. I could hear her voice in the silence of the back of my mind, singing to the melodic sound of her music box, that sweet lullaby that would hum me to sleep, and I dreamed that her arms were wrapped around me. I gazed at the glittering stars above me and the pale light existing by the crescent moon, imagining that I could see my mother’s face traced in the night sky with her hair waving in the celestial wind and her eyes sparkling… just like the stars.
Converting /tmp/phpcCIneR to /dev/stdout
I ran, as far and as fast as my young legs could carry me, until one day later, I stumbled with exhaustion into a woodland away to the east of the ruins that once were my home, and the death that once was my life. I wept, face down on the leaf-littered ground for all that I had lost, and for all those disillusioned pleas to sweep my mind clean again, yet I could not get the images from my head… could not dismiss the vision of my fallen mother from my mind - her gray, frozen skin, her cold hands, her eyes… the starlight was dead. I lay there for all of that day, and part of the next, feeling as lifeless as the light in her eyes, wishing, praying for some beast, some god to take away my agony. The pain of claw or fang could not be as the pain of loss, never as the pain of loss. But nothing came, and I dragged myself to a small clump of bushes, seeking to forget in sleep. Could I forget? Could I cease to remember the flames which consumed my hope; the screams of the women as their bodies were turned into garlands of smoke; their futile pleas to a heartless, black sky; the nocturnal silence that deprived me of the aspiration to live; the instants that murdered my soul and crooked my dreams to dust? Could I forget my mother, and her last likeness in my head - livid, and pale, and looking so very old? No. No, never will I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live forever. Never.
I was worn out. I was beat. I collapsed unconscious to the dirt, and never did I feel so at ease to let the darkness of slumber take over me. Sweet silence, beautiful darkness. There were no screams, there were no flames, there was not the scent of fire. Maybe here, in this still night, I could forget.
I’m not sure how long it was that I slept. Hours? Days? My eyes cracked open, and my senses woke up. The smell of damp leaves and dirt filled my nose, and I could feel the cool earth pressed against my tear-stained face. The wind rustled through the boughs above my head, and there was songbirds chirping somewhere among the trees. And - please, no! - I remembered. My face screwed up in a desperate attempt to freeze my cries, but they came without fail. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Wretched sobs were wrenched from my chest. I buried my head in my arms as if I could block out the heartbroken images in my mind. “Why!?” I cried out, and the birds ceased to sing - could they feel the pain in my voice? “Why!?” I wanted the world to hear me. I wanted the whole world to suffer my grief. I wanted it to know what its hate had done.
I bit my arm, sunk my fangs in deep, to stifle my sobs. Blood welled up against my teeth, and the taste filled my mouth, coppery and sharp, and the tears stopped little by little. My cries came as hiccupping, uneven little breaths, and I finally lifted my fangs away. My blood-caked arm was throbbing painfully and shaking. Physical pain helped. It let my mind visit something else for the time. Already, my demon qualities were at work to mend the cuts, darning and healing methodically and meticulously at the broken skin and torn muscle.
There was a sudden snarl, low and ominous, and my ears flicked forward. I held my breath, heard my heart pounding in my head, felt my form become taut. My eyes searched the brushwood, my ears rotated and hitched. The silence swiftly became heavy, and the forest unexpectedly seemed to be closing in around me. I forced myself to swallow, though my mouth had gone dry, and guardedly pushed myself to my hands and knees at a snail’s pace.
A russet, sinuous form slipped from the scrubs, like an unkempt, ratty weasel, three feet tall and eight long, head low, red eyes burning. [Demon.] I went still. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. I don’t know if I was afraid, or just surprised, but I didn’t move. All I could do was stare back, right at those fiery eyes. It looked at me, and I looked at it. The smell of my blood must have drawn it to me. The demon’s lips had curled back into a wicked expression that resembled a malevolent grin, showing off numerous jagged teeth. The fur at the base of its neck stood on end. Its back legs tamped beneath it. The snarl became an open-mouth shriek that was hurting to my ears, and the beast lunged toward me, slavering jaws snapping wildly. [Move!] My feet came under me, too quick for me to register the movement, and I scrambled backwards, avoiding those razor teeth. The demon’s claws whipped outward, slicing a slab from my left ankle, and I lurched and stumbled to my knees. But the demon did not come forward. It simply stood there, eyeing me, growling low and forebodingly in its throat. I stared, whether in fear or confusion, you decide.
“Keep away from this place, little half-blood,” the demon snarled in a voice that sounded as both a woman and a monster, spitting out ‘half-blood’ as though it was a curse. “I’ll not allow for tainted blood spilled here. Be gone from here, young half-breed, before my temper bends.” It turned away, that stretched, twisting body sliding back through the brush.
My breathing was haggard and raucous in my own ears, my eyes were wide, and my heart was pounding madly in my chest. The adrenaline began to wear away, and in its place came agonizing, stabbing pain. I let out a yelp, and wrapped my trembling hands around my gushing ankle, gritting my teeth at the hurt. Blood pooled beneath my leg, staining the dirt black, coating my foot and layering my fingers. There were tears in my eyes now, and I rocked back and forth, clutching my ankle. I took in sharp breaths, biting back the pain.
There was a growl from the trees, and I knew that my time was running short and the strangely gracious demon’s patience was wearing thin. I had to leave. I had to leave now. I leapt up, screaming at the pain shooting up my leg, and toppled back to my knees. I hastily scrabbled at the ground with my claws, delving long gouges into the dirt, scrambling forward until I could pull my good leg beneath me. I took a step, pitching to the side as my weight fell on my injured ankle, but managed to keep my balance as I leaned against the sturdy trunk of a tree, and I limped away, timidly glancing over my shoulder only once to see those red eyes glinting back at me.
Night fell, cloudy and dark, and still I walked lamely through the forest. Most of the pain was gone, and in its place was a blunt throbbing ache. My surroundings passed me unnoticed in a sort of fuzzy blur as I set one foot in front of the other mechanically. My head was full of empty, heartrending thoughts, and I wrapped my arms tight about myself. I felt cold, felt tired. I felt sick. I wanted to go home… to what? There was nothing to go home to. There was not even home. I let out a shivering sigh, my breath fogging in the cold air, and fell kneeling at the base of an old sugi. Where was I to go? What creature of sound mind would take pity on a wretched thing such as me? I turned my eyes upward to the hoary, aged branches like knotted arms as they stretched up to the cloud-covered moon. Somewhere in my heart, I pleaded to the old tree, “Please help me, please.” And the silence offered by the crooked boughs came to my ears as, “I shall.”
I found safe haven there in those twisted arms, in that treetop. It wasn’t a palace - it was cold and drafty and far from comfortable - but it did me good in this land where the hunter can swiftly become the hunted. It was troublesome learning to sleep in the branches of a tree. Seven times in that first night I spent in a treetop I had fallen. Seven times I had swallowed a mouthful of dirt and soggy leaves. Seven times I had climbed back up. Oh, I didn’t blame the tree - it was doing the best it could at any rate. In fact, I thanked the old sugi, because it had taught me to be ever vigilant. My senses no longer fell asleep when I did.
Yet, I could not help but sneer. This place I called refuge could not be more opposite Sesshomaru’s wonderfully warm and cozy castle, and I was resentful. He had hundreds of servants, a harem no doubt, and a land full of demons at his beck and call. I lived on nature’s garbage. I wanted a restful home, a snug bed, and a steaming meal, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they.
As dawn broke and my eyes opened, the first thing to strike me was overwhelming hunger. I doubled over at the ache, clutching my stomach and groaning. There were no thoughts of tragedy or death or fear in my head. All of a sudden, only survival mattered. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast three days before, and although the thought of raw meat wasn’t particularly appealing, I felt that my foot was beginning to look rather appetizing.
There was a great splash and a shower of water as I toppled into the forest stream and grappled to my feet, sprinting after the little brown squirrel that would serve my hunger for the time being… if I caught it - and I’m mortified to acknowledge that I was lacking rather in my hunting abilities. I leapt ahead, claws swiping at the tiny animal, and succeeded only in diving face-first into the sodden ground as the furry creature easily evaded my fingers and scurried away up a tree, disappearing into the dark hollow of its home. I lifted my head, baring my teeth in rage, my face now decorated with a multitude of scratches. “Stupid squirrel!” I pushed myself up from the land and got to my unsteady feet, furiously turning in a circle, searching the surrounding trees with angry eyes for the animal. I backed away a few steps, my expression melting from outrage to despair. Who was I trying to kid? I couldn’t hunt worth shit. I was going to die, cold, alone, and hungry.
Quite suddenly, I lost my footing and tumbled down a hill, landing hard atop a large round object, layered with a thin coat of graying fuzz. For a moment, I just laid there, dazed and listening to the unusual grunting sounds that it made, taking in the strange musty scent until it forcibly tossed me to the dirt. I struggled to sit up as the beast turned toward me, and I froze when I found myself staring into the seasoned face of an old spider demon, a set of husky ivory fangs jutting from its mouth, and crimson eyes peering out from underneath shaggy white eyebrows, and eight spiny legs trimmed with yellow stripes that were fading with great age. I scrambled to back away, just to prevent yet another demon from picking its teeth with my bones.
The spider demon furrowed its wrinkled brow at me, noticing the tears forming in my eyes, and the whimpers of fear that fled from my lips. “What’s wrong? You aren’t hurt,” it spoke in a gruff and stern, yet calm voice. “Come, now. Dry your eyes, lad.” Hesitantly, I raised an arm to my eyes, and I brushed the tears away. “Now then, why all the tears?”
“It’s all her fault! She should have known better!” I cried. “She didn’t try to get away! She didn’t!” I turned my gaze to the ground, a stray tear tumbling down my dirt-stained face. “Stupid demons,” I said quietly, wiping my eyes again with my sleeve.
The spider seemed surprised, and arched his eyebrows at my words. I had even taken myself aback, and wondered why I had said what I did. Wasn’t I afraid of this demon, this six-foot, three-thousand-pound arachnid who could mill my body into dust under one huge foot? Why was I telling this beast what troubled my heart? The demon took a step toward me with one long, thorny leg, its voice gone soft with sympathy and its eyes gone understated. “You listen to old Kumo. It is nobody’s fault.”
I took in a sad, quivering breath. “But I miss her so much.”
“And so you always will, but the feeling with fade,” Kumo responded with a kind understanding, his rough voice sounding rather awkward with empathy. “She’ll always be right here with you.” He gently tapped my chest with a bristly leg. “Right here.” Kumo’s toothy mouth turned up into a soft smile. “The pain will go in time, lad. Only in time.” With that, he slowly turned himself around and lumbered burdensomely away through the trees to leave me on my own, his caring words hanging in my mind.
Time was all that I had left. My life would long outlast a human’s, a tree’s, a river’s. Throughout my years I could watch mountains move, and forests change, and I could see stones wear away, and empires collapse. Time wouldn’t make me forget. My memory would not grow careworn like a rock on a riverbed, and would not disappear over the years. But perhaps time could dull the hurt. Watching after the kindhearted old spider for a moment, I stood, and started in the opposite direction through the woods.
In the stillness of that melancholy night, as I sat in a branching treetop, I assembled the last fading memories of my mother’s beautiful scent in my head. Sakura trees and spring showers. I could hear her voice in the silence of the back of my mind, singing to the melodic sound of her music box, that sweet lullaby that would hum me to sleep, and I dreamed that her arms were wrapped around me. I gazed at the glittering stars above me and the pale light existing by the crescent moon, imagining that I could see my mother’s face traced in the night sky with her hair waving in the celestial wind and her eyes sparkling… just like the stars.
Converting /tmp/phpcCIneR to /dev/stdout