InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubaki's Revenge ❯ Despair ( Chapter 20 )

Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

 

 

Tsubaki's Revenge, Part XX: Despair

 

Kikyo insisted on sitting up when Shika brought her food. Miyatsu helped her, his storm-blue eyes concerned. Her head pounded and her vision swam at first, but slowly the dizziness faded, and she was able to handle the bowl of soup by herself. A pair of rice-balls wrapped with thin slices of fish followed, and then, to her surprise and delight, the monk presented her with a bowl of orange sections. The pieces of sweet, tangy fruit were as wonderful as she remembered from her one previous experience with the expensive fruit. She nibbled slowly, enjoying them as best she could, striving not to think of anything except the actual experience. Spitting the last of the seeds into the bowl, she sat it on the floor, and smiled at the kneeling monk. “Thank-you, Miyatsu-dono. That was very generous of you.”

 

He smiled back, his eyes twinkling. “A single orange does not even begin to count as generosity towards one as beautiful as you, miko-sama. I would shower you with oranges, did I believe it would gain me even one kiss from your lips.”

 

She blushed. “Showering me with oranges at the moment would do nothing for my head,” she observed.

 

He laughed. “Alas, I must rethink my approach—such a practical maiden you are!” Then he shook his head, dropping his merriment. “And, in truth, we should discuss more serious matters. If you are up to it?”

 

Kikyo found herself relaxing a bit as he dropped the banter. “Yes.” She reached out and touched the bag beside her, though she made no effort to touch it contents. One brief touch had been enough. “I have to find him, as soon as possible. She tricked me; I went the wrong direction for two days. I can't stay here waiting for my head or my leg to heal.”

 

Miyatsu frowned a bit. “I don't quite understand why this dark priestess bothered to kidnap your friend. If she's good, she could torment and kill him from a distance.”

 

“He destroyed something she wanted very badly,” Kikyo said, raising a hand to rub gently at her aching shoulder.

 

“You said you went in the wrong direction. Do you know where she is now? I tried earlier to sense a direction, but her aura must still be beyond my range.”

 

“Yes, I have—“ she looked down and realized she was not wearing her own clothes, “—had a direction finder, linked to In—to my friend. It was a piece of lacing taken from his kimono: I had it tucked into my sash before the accident.”

 

“I'll ask Shika later—she took the clothes to have them washed. Now, about this dark priestess?”

 

Kikyo sighed, shifting position a bit, wishing her head and leg would stop throbbing. “Her name is Tsubaki. We fought last year, when she tried to kill me and take the Shikon No Tama…”

 

* * * * *

 

She was braiding his tail.

 

Inuyasha lay half on his side, half on his stomach, forepaws over his head, ears lowered in utter humiliation. The thing that looked, smelled, and sounded like Kikyo was giggling to herself, her hands busy braiding the hairs of his enchanted tail. He had tried to dodge her hands when she had expressed her intention, but a swipe of her knife-sharp, envenomed fingernails across his lower back had sent his hind legs collapsing.

 

“Lovely, lovely, lovely,” she caroled softly to herself, and Inuyasha felt his ears trying to sink lower, while his insides churned. The puppet was crazy. She had attacked him in mid-leap while he was `chasing butterflies', pummeling him with fists glowing with spiritual power, that burned him with every touch, all the while scolding him—in a voice that sounded like Kikyo at her gentlest—for wanting to eat the butterflies. He had tried to warn her off, snarling, ears flattened, but the puppet hadn't seemed to notice, knocking him over with a fist, hitting him in the face, in the ribs, in the stomach, over and over, until, between one eye-blink and the next, she had changed again, and announced that his tail was cute and she wanted to play with it and braid his hair.

 

And he couldn't attack her. He'd tried, when he'd snarled at her, when she hit him. But he hadn't been able to make himself jump the thing that looked and smelled and sounded like Kikyo. He couldn't make himself hate her. He couldn't make himself angry. The thing confused him, and terrified him, and all he wanted to do was escape.

 

Laughter came from the house. Inuyasha's ears flicked upright, then lowered again, as another stab of humiliation sank into him. The bitch was laughing at him. At his helplessness. As his humiliation.

 

Anger tried to stir. He tried to feel rage; urged his youkai blood to start burning at the insult to his pride.

 

Except that he had no pride. It was gone: shattered. Fighting back would gain him nothing, and he was so tired. Kikyo—his Kikyo—was gone. Dead. Gone. Lost. He hadn't been there to protect her, to save her.

 

There was nothing left to fight with. Nothing left to fight for.

 

He was only a hanyo.

 

* * * * *

 

Breathless, Tsubaki finally managed to stop laughing. Breathing deeply to still the last of the giggles, the dark priestess examined the scene a second time. The thought that occurred to her then stopped the last of the desire to laugh, as she realized that the hanyo hadn't stirred. He hadn't tried to attack her; he hadn't looked at her, hadn't growled.

 

One eyebrow rising thoughtfully, Tsubaki stepped off the porch, picking up the basket. `Kikyo' instantly stopped what she was doing, looking up at her creator, face as placid and unchanging as it always was when Tsubaki was not linked with her. The hanyo twitched an ear in her direction, but only for a moment. Slowly, she walked towards him, watching for the slightest move, taking careful note of his condition. He was thin, ribs showing and his shoulder blades standing out on his back. The purple-tinged wounds on his lower back were still oozing, while bruises darkened burn-blistered skin. Yellowing bruises and purple scars of various shades marked older torments. His hands were covered with drying blood mingled with dirt. She wrinkled her nose a little as she realized how filthy he had become over the last several days. She'd have to have that taken care of, before she took him back to that village. But there were other things to do first.

 

She toed him in the side, and he flinched and whimpered, though she'd barely touched him. She smiled. “Decided to quit fighting, puppy?” she asked. His ears twitched, then sank back to their lowered positions. “Kikyo hasn't been too rough, has she?” His arms and hands tensed, but he did not otherwise respond. Smirking, she strolled over to the puppet and handed her the basket.

 

“Make sure the puppy eats at least half,” she told her. “If he resists, you can pull out a fang and see how long it takes him to regrow it. Then get him and yourself cleaned up. If he resists, hurt him, but don't spill blood. The clothing will be in the next room when you are finished.”

 

“Yes, mistress,” murmured the puppet.

 

“Oh, and you can tell the hanyo that there are no spells on the food.”

 

* * * * *

 

The poison from the puppet's claws had generally left Inuyasha more nauseated than hungry, and prone to vomit right back up what little food the puppet managed to force down his throat. But as the puppet opened up the basket, the scent of the food infiltrated his nose, and his mouth began to water. Venison. Cooked venison. It was combined with other things he didn't recognize, but the overall scent was too enticing for his famished body to resist. He managed to make a token resistance, refusing the temptation to lunge forward and bury his muzzle in the basket. But when `Kikyo' held a piece before him, he sniffed once, then gave in and took it from her fingers. He chewed, discovering that the venison had been chopped and rolled into a ball with other ingredients, which weren't worth the effort of trying to identify. He swallowed, and realized that the puppet was holding out another piece. He hesitated, but he was hungry, and, what did humiliation matter, any more, when his pride was gone? Dropping his hands to the ground, Inuyasha shifted position so he was propped up on his elbows. Then he accepted the next piece, and the next after that, eyes half-closed, trying to ignore the dull, stinging thread of mortification.

 

His shrunken stomach soon had as much as it could take. Whining, he turned his head away from the next offering, dropping back down to a fully prone position, dully hoping that the puppet would for once be reasonable and not punish him for simply being unable to eat more. He cringed when he felt her fingers on his ear, but she only tugged gently. “Get up, puppy. Time to get washed.”

 

He groaned, pushing himself to his four feet. Hind legs still feeling numbed and shaky, he stood still a moment. A harder tug on his ear started him moving forward, sore-footed and staggering a little. By the time he arrived in the bathing room, he was beginning to feel—odd. He blinked dazed eyes as the first bucket of water was dashed over him, and did not feel even a slight temptation to shake it off. The puppet attacked his body with brush and soap. That hurt, but he could find no energy to move, even when she scrubbed his forepaws or touched his privates. He stood there, dripping, as more water was dashed over him, and didn't stir, even as one very tiny part noticed that the puppet had removed her clothing and was cleaning herself. He was half-smothered in cloth and toweled dry, roughly enough to make him whimper, then led into another room.

 

Something seemed to drop away. Inuyasha blinked, feeling a bit of his stupor fade. “Get dressed, hanyo—she decided to let you not be a dog for a while.”

 

He started, and lifted his head. The puppet smirked at him, clothed in an untied kimono that barely came down to her thighs. Discomfited and bewildered, he looked away. Raising one hand, he spread his fingers, wincing at the pain and feeling the stiffness of muscles that had not been able to move for days. Moving carefully, he stood up. For a long moment, his head swam with dizziness, while his calf muscles and feet cramped. Something kept him from toppling, until his senses steadied, then turned him slightly. Opening his eyes, he saw a set of robes folded neatly on a tall chest. Hesitantly, he reached for them, hearing a small giggle behind him, then the rustling of clothes. His tail twitched, and he wondered vaguely how he was supposed to dress with that appendage in the way.

 

The tail had been allowed for, he discovered. But the awareness was a passing thought, buried under a flood of sensations as he dressed. He had dressed in silk before, but when had it been so soft on his skin? Why did it feel so—good as it moved over his skin? Why was he feeling—warmer? And what was that—smell? Some sort of incense; it stung his nose a little, but it was making him—warm. Excited. He found himself sliding one sleeve of his kimono up and down his arm, reveling in the softness, when she spoke.

 

“That tanuki is a very clever beast, isn't she?”

 

Inuyasha turned, a part of him abruptly rousing from his daze. The puppet, fully dressed, in a fine silk version of Kikyo's miko robes, smiled at him. But it wasn't the vacuous, erratic spirit that made that smile. Another looked out of those brown eyes, which glittered with malice and smugness, and something more. The puppet's smiled widened. “Tanuki are well known for their sexual prowess, are they not? And it didn't surprise me, when I persuaded her to talk, that tanuki don't always rely just on—nature.” She took a step forward. Inuyasha backed up, a thread of fear choking his throat. “Did you like the food? Drugged, of course. Do you like the incense? Very arousing, isn't it?” He took another step back, and found himself against a wall. “No, you can't escape,” she said, as he tried to turn and break through the wall. She smiled, moving closer. “No escape for the hanyo who destroyed my Shikon No Tama.” She touched his chest, then slid her hand underneath his kimono, slowly sliding it up along his skin to his neck. He shivered, his groin tightening despite the fear gripping him. “No escape for the hanyo who killed my darling Kuroshin.” Curving her hand around his neck, she drew his head down, delivering a light kiss to his lips. “No escape for the hanyo who dared think he was good enough to love a miko.” She kissed him again, then lowered her hand to his upper arm. The other hand rose, and she rubbed both silken sleeves up and down against his skin. He whimpered. “I've changed the spell, you know,” she breathed, one hand moving down to press lightly against his hakama. “I control the body now, not just feel what it does.” He flinched as her hand went between his legs. “And since I prefer the feel of silk to straw or cotton…” She let her hand drift up, slowly, then began to caress his arms with the silk again. “Lovely sensation, isn't it?” she murmured, smirking. “The drug helps with that, you know. Enhances sensation. Of course, it enhances more than pleasurable sensations…

 

Inuyasha screamed and crashed to his knees as she drove a single envenomed claw into his wrist. Just the puncture sent pain searing up his arm, but then the poison started working into his nerves and blood, sending agony streaking up his arm with every beat of his heart. He fought against crying out, alternately gasping for breath and grinding his teeth together as the pain flared, then faded as his youkai blood neutralized the poison. A hand stroked the short plush of hair on his head, then scratched behind an ear. “Poor little hanyo,” she murmured. “Do you regret ever hearing of the Shikon No Tama? Now, come along.” She pulled him to his feet; he didn't try to resist. “Kikyo does a good job at raping you. But you'll find I do much better. Why not relax? You might enjoy it. Some of it…”

 

* * * * *

 

 

His scream and her cry twined together, and then Tsubaki found herself totally back in her own self, panting and sweak-soaked, shuddering with the aftermath of her climax. The room was dark, but the power she had pulled from the hanyo was almost visible to the physical eye. Calling on her will, she forced the youki eddying around her to shrink and coalesce into the knife that had absorbed the rest of the power she had pulled from the hanyo. Contemplating the glowing knife, she grimaced. Still not enough power for her needs. She still hadn't broken that seal on his full youkai blood. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the link with the puppet's body.

 

She had pulled the hanyo's limp organ out of her body and was examining the bleeding thing, running a clawtip through one of the slashes. Taking control, Tsubaki smiled thinly at the flesh `she' held. She had changed her puppet a bit that morning, adding a bit of spell-work, so that anything entering between her legs would be slashed as if she were made of broken glass. She wondered if men had nightmares about such a thing. They could be so vulnerable. If men weren't stronger than women; if women could control when they became pregnant, it would be such a different world…

 

Tossing the thought away with a grimace, Tsubaki brought the puppet to her feet, and walked over to a small chest. A small wax ball held under his nose, torn open with a fingernail, brought him around with a fit of sneezes, that turned into a strangled scream as his pain registered. He writhed onto his side, then onto his hands and knees as he sought the least painful position. Chuckling, she reached out and scratched an ear. He ducked away from her.

 

“Please,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming. “Don't touch me.”

 

“What? You didn't enjoy it?”

 

He whimpered, shrinking away, shoulders shaking. “Please.” His voice broke, and she saw a tear drop from his face. “I'll do—I'll do whatever you want. Just don't—just don't—“ An audible sob came from his throat.

 

Tsubaki smiled. “Poor little puppy.” She reached out and petted his head, ignoring his efforts to move away. “Going to do everything I want now, hmmm?”

 

He only whimpered, as the tears continued to fall.