InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubaki's Revenge ❯ Youkai! ( Chapter 33 )

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

 

Tsubaki's Revenge, Part XXXIII: Youkai

“Get off me!” not quite screaming, Tsubaki shoved and kicked the body that had knocked her to the ground. It flopped over onto its back, and the dark priestess scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering, her breath coming in short pants. She looked around wildly, spinning in a circle, looking for foes, the bloodied knife still in her hand. She saw villagers, mostly scattered around the meadow like so many pieces of downed branches after a storm. She saw the monk lying on his back, groaning a little, a handful of ofudas scattered in the grass where he had been kneeling. She saw Kikyo coming into view around the tree she'd been tied to, leaning against it for support with one hand, the other hand holding what looked like a bow and a quiver of arrows. Snarling, Tsubaki snapped out a word and pointed the bloody knife at the miko. Kikyo slammed against the tree, then slid to the ground.

Tsubaki completed her circle and glared at the sprawled, unmoving body. She was shaking. How had he managed to get that close to her again!? How had his claws managed to penetrate her shield? She hadn't intended to kill the hanyo yet, but she had chosen to take precautions after the close call the night before. But--curse him, anyway!

She raised the knife to clasp it between both hands, to invoke the spell to absorb the youki drifting around the corpse. As she did, she saw that the blade, her hand, and her sleeve were coated with blood. She looked down at herself, and mentally cursed again as she realized that her robes were soaked with blood. His blood. She could feel moisture against her skin, and realized that the blood had soaked through to her inner garments. Her skin crawled at the thought. Even in death, the hanyo kept annoying her--

Tsubaki forced her thoughts back to the business at hand. Quickly, she invoked the absorption spell. Watching the youki start to gather around her knife, she frowned again. She was positive the seal had shattered with the death spell. So why wasn't there more youki dissipating from the body? The hanyo had proven to be more powerful than expected, and with taiyoukai blood, there should have been more power released when the seal was broken. So, where was it?

The back of her mind prickled. Tsubaki tensed, then realized it was the strongest of the youkai she'd made her bargain with, and one of the earliest. It was usually silent in her mind, content to share her senses and share with her its power. Now, it wanted out.

Why? she asked.

Drink its blood. Eat its soul.

Tsubaki blinked, and realized that the hanyo's soul had not yet left its the body. She thought of the youkai's request for a moment, then decided it would be a very good idea. There were powerful spells capable of bringing the recently dead back to life. She had no desire to have that happen to the hanyo. She hadn't gotten all that she wanted from him, but she had absolutely no desire to have someone revive him, and set him to seeking revenge.

She let the illusion drop, and willed the gateway open. Her eye went blind with a flash of light. When it recovered, she found herself facing the twin-tailed, three-eyed, vaguely wolf-like youkai. It grinned at her with all of its sharp teeth. Hadn't you better check on your other enemies? it conveyed, lowering its head to sniff the hanyo. A tongue reached out and took a long lick along the deep slash up the hanyo's torso. Delicious.

The dark priestess turned away, not wanting to admit to herself that she felt repulsed by the youkai's enjoyment. Deciding to follow the youkai's imminently sensible advice, she looked at the monk. He had managed to force himself to a seated position, but his face was drawn with pain. A quick glance towards the tree revealed that Kikyo was still crumpled at its base. Tsubaki returned her attention to the monk. "Still interested in trying to woo me, houshi?" she asked lightly, with a smirk.

* * * * *

His defeat, at least, was not as thorough as the night before. With trembling arms, Miyatsu shoved himself himself to a seated position. He raised his head just in time to see the youkai emerge from the dark priestess' eye. His gut twisted in horror and revulsion. He had assumed that the woman had mastered spells to control youkai and to absorb their power into objects. Instead, she had clearly made a bargain with a youkai to obtain her power. And there was generally only one type of bargain a youkai was willing to make.

He didn't answer her immediately, looking beyond her to the limp form of what must be Kikyo's hanyo beloved. “Are you so lost to your own humanity that you will let that youkai eat his body?” he asked finally. “That hanyo has human blood; given what he has done for this village, he deserves a better ending than that.” He could not hide the disgust on his face.

She laughed. “Such concern for a hanyo you were quite willing to risk purifying with your ofudas a bit ago, houshi,” she said. “Should you not be worried about the fate of your own body? The power I am gaining—“

There was a pulse, a beat, of pure energy.

 Tsubaki stopped in mid-phrase, looking startled. She started to turn, her knife glowing red from the youki it was absorbing. Already looking in that direction, Miyatsu saw what happened next. Another pulse of youki jolted the air. The dark priestess dropped the knife with a cry of pain, as the youkai started to jerk its head away from the hanyo's body. An arm lay limply on the grass one moment, and then with incredible speed, lashed. The youkai did not even have time to scream as its head shattered into little pieces under the impact of five golden arcs of eldritch claws, leaving its body to stagger and start to collapse. Before it could hit the ground, its killer was on its feet, staring fixedly at the woman.

Its aura was glowing as red as its eyes.

Youkai.

* * * * *

Tsubaki stared at the revived hanyo in shock. "I killed you!"

Furry white ears twitched among the thick thatch of almost visibly growing silver hair as he tilted his head slightly. Jagged streaks of blue ran down his cheekbones. The mouth stretched into a smirk, long fangs jutting past the lower lip. “I don't feel dead,” he said in a raspy, guttural voice. Cracking his knuckles, he took a step forward. “You failed, miko.”

His aura was almost overwhelming, and his eyes fastened on her were not human. Tsubaki fought off a wave of terror, realizing that her collar was still on his neck. “White dog, sit!”

He staggered, going to one knee, eyes widening in shock. Tsubaki took a step back, muttering a quick charm to retrieve her knife. She nearly dropped it again as the heat seared her palm, but grimly held on. The transformed hanyo was growling, both knees on the ground as he struggled to bring his hands up to his neck. Gritting her teeth against the pain, knowing she'd have only one chance, Tsubaki lunged forward, intending to bury the knife in the hanyo's heart.

She never had a chance. The youkai snarled, and then a flash of light blinded her as something slammed up her arm, numbing it. The next moment, she was choking, pulled up onto her toes by something grabbing her robes and twisting them. Vision returned, and red youkai eyes stared down into hers from less than two hands away. “Let me go!” she shrilled, fighting another surge of panic. “Don't touch me!” She raised her arm in an instinctive gesture, and froze as she saw that her hand was gone.

She knew, then. Realized with a distant thought that the sheer power of the unleashed youkai blood had shattered the collar and her knife. A whimper strangled in her throat as she found her gaze reclaimed by those dreadful, demonic eyes. Hanyo-Inuyasha's golden eyes had always reflected his human blood and his human heart, no matter their shape and color. There was nothing of humanity in those blood-red orbs. No pity. No compassion. No mercy. Not even hate.

He grinned at her, and he released her and shoved her away. She staggered, off balance, her eyes catching a glimpse of claws flashing as a spread hand rose. Her mind went blank with despair, with only a single thought.

Kuroshin, why didn't I listen—

* * * * *

No person watching would ever forget that morning, that scene, for the rest of their lives. They saw the transformed Inuyasha kill the dark priestess, slashing her body into pieces with a single, terrible blow. Some gagged, a few going to their hands and knees. Those holding or touching children snatched them close in an instinctive effort to protect their innocent eyes. Most simply froze, stunned.

 

And, regrettably, some few panicked. They screamed, turning to flee back to the illusory safety of their huts.

 

He heard them, of course. He whirled, stared at their fleeing bodies, and sprang, a low, guttural laugh issuing out of his throat.

 

Those who recognized what was happening shouted then, in denial, in a fruitless effort to get the panicked villagers to stop, or in desperate hope that the maddened hanyo would hear them and respond. Miyatsu lunged to his feet, his hand darting for the last of his ofudas. But his knees gave out and he collapsed, the ofudas falling from his fingertips. Yasuo turned to watch after his one useless cry, crushing Korana to his chest that she would not be able to see.

 

And Kikyo found the glowing arrow to one hand, and Kaede's small bow in the other. She could see the aura, which held no hint of humanity; could feel the ravening desire to kill that had consumed him, sense it through the not-yet dissipated spell she had used to speak directly to his mind. She did not understand what had happened to transform Inuyasha into the pitiless monster. But she knew he had to be stopped. Before he destroyed innocent lives.

 

Arrow clacked against bow. “Inuyasha!” she shouted with both mind and voice, and with all of her heart and soul. “Inuyasha, come here!”

 

He whirled in midair and landed backwards, sliding a little in the grass, ending less than a length from the nearest villager, who screamed and threw herself to the ground, covering her head with her arms. His ears twitched and he started to turn towards her, making a little chuckle of greedy anticipation. “Inuyasha!” His head snapped back, red eyes staring at her. “I'm the one you want to kill! Come here and kill me!”

 

The youkai shifted his weight from one foot to the other, indecisive. “Come here! Now!”

 

He leapt, straight towards her.

 

Kaede's bow was small, fitted to the girl's height and her strength. Kikyo was on the ground, unable to rise without assistance, and with a bow that could not draw back two-thirds of the sacred arrow's length. But she had long since lost count of the number of youkai she had killed with her weapons. And if her heart screamed or wept, it did not show in her face or in her body. He ran straight towards her at a speed his hanyo form could not match, a wide, feral grin on his face, his hands arched to claw. Kikyo watched him come, the bow swinging up, calling on that one special spell and imbuing the arrow with what was left of her miko strength. The arrow didn't really need more power, but what was already within it was unfocused. She gave it meaning, shaped its form. The blood-maddened Inuyasha closed, far closer than she would normally have allowed a youkai to approach.

She released.

He grunted and staggered as the arrow slammed through his chest and through his heart. Shock flashed across his face, wiping out the grin, as he took another step forward, and fell to his knees. He looked down at himself, and tried to raise a hand to the arrow with an arm that trembled. As if it had grown to heavy to lift, the arm fell back. He raised his head—so slowly—as his chest heaved once in a strangled gasp for breath. Wide and shocked, the red eyes stared at her. “You. Ki—kyo—“

His eyes glazed over. He swayed, and then slowly toppled over onto his side, his breath leaving him. His aura collapsed, and his body went limp, motionless, to all appearances, dead, the arrow centered in his heart, though not a drop of blood could be seen.

And for a moment, nothing in the meadow stirred.