InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Drabbles and Babbles ❯ Of Fate and Sisterhood ( Chapter 13 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Wheezambu 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 04.04.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 975 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 04.04.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 975 | Status: Completed
A/N: Warning! The pairing is Kagome/Sango and I do mean pairing. Yuri love ahead!
Predictably, they had turned to each other out of need, out of compassion, out of loneliness. One warm, caring, sweet natured soul reaching out to another, wanting only to salve away the sadness and loss. Sango tried not to let her heart crumble when she thought about it, knew in silent despair with a shocking certainty although she was no seer.
So hot, so soft.
Village wise women and mountain witches make charms, she thought to herself. They claim that they can read the stars or that they can tell the future from the pattern of tea leaves. Sango wasn't sure she believed any of it, but she would have paid whatever she needed to in order to make it true.
Touch me.
It couldn't have been divined by either of them and it certainly hadn't been planned. Sango had heard tales of fortune tellers who were said to read the future in the entrails of animals. In the warmth of death lay the secrets of a beating heart. She had seen too much of blood and the steaming insides of bodies to believe that she'd find answers there.
Still, when she was weak, she rubbed her hand across her stomach and wondered. If she were cut open, all her secrets and needs laid bare, perhaps by the gentle touch of a sickle shaped blade, would anyone find her answers there?
I need you.
She wanted to be alone. Her brother was dead. Her beautiful boy, her last and only link to who she really was. Her Kohaku, never again would she feel his arms around her, never again would she bury her face in his hair when he blushed. That tortured, sweet and deadly child, of her heart but not her womb, had been stolen from her again.
What kind of cruel fate could have ordained that she must hold her dying love in her arms and feel him die a second time? Almost she'd wanted to beg Naraku to kill her again also, let them not be parted, let them not be parted yet again.
But the crimson eyed monster, that laughing death with a beautiful face, had denied her once again. His voice still whispered mockingly in her ears, a corrupt shard sparkling like forbidden desire between his fingers.
Please me.
She'd offered herself to him, standing over her beloved boy, begged him to take her life and make her his slave. Only let Kohaku live, let him live and go free and she would be whatever he wanted, whatever he made her into. It was the very last thing she could offer him and the very last thing he could refuse to take.
For refuse he did and left her stained upon the ground. Kohaku's usefulness was at an end, Naraku told her with a gentle evil on his lips. I have no need of you at all. It was my gift that you were allowed to say goodbye to him before I set him free.
Lips on skin, soft fingers between her thighs.
She couldn't say goodbye, she could not force those words from her throat. They choked her, shredded her tongue like the dry dust of his body, like the ashes of a funeral pyre. Her lungs were full of him, every time she drew breath she'd taste Kohaku in the back of her mouth and hate herself for wanting it.
Sango carried his blade now, slung low upon her hip. If a seer had looked into her midnight eyes he would have predicted that she'd use that blade to slay many. She would, she did, but not just for Kohaku. The blade was sharp, sharp as her despair, and the chain was strong, steadfast as her heart. If she couldn't follow death, she would become it and tear the living breath from every monster she met because it was not fair, it was not right that they should live while her brother was dead.
Fire in her belly, kisses on her breast.
But she could not have predicted that she would find the slaughter empty or that her fingers would grow cold with pain when she used his blade. Revenge does not cure death, no more than justice can undo the damage of a shattered jewel.
Sango withdrew more into herself, the shell of her body her only home, but found no solace in isolation. She found no solace in company either, her heart had gone cold and she knew, she foretold with a frightening accuracy not unlike the blade of a knife that it would not be long before she withdrew from the world completely.
I need more.
Kagome found her like that, late one night, deep in the forest. She was kneeling, holding Kohaku's blade in her hands like she could read her future in the gleam of its surface. She only had to force herself a little, the blade was very sharp and in a way, it would be like dying at his hands instead of her own.
"Weren't you even going to say goodbye to me?"
The soft voice startled her and Sango looked up to see such pain standing in Kagome's eyes. Compassion for her suffering, grief at her tragic loss.
"I don't know what else to do," Sango said, her voice broken and dull, rusted to the color of Naraku's eyes, old blood on glass. "I promised to protect him, Kagome. And I failed him."
Please. Save me.
Kagome knelt beside her, one warm hand covering Sango's, keeping the blade still. "It's not a failure to love and try your best," she said gently. "It's not a failure to want to keep him close to your heart."
"I did fail!" Sango cried, trying to pull the sickle from Kagome's insistent hand. "I failed them all, Kohaku, my father. You and the others. The only honorable thing left to do is take my own life, as I should have done from the beginning."
"Is it for honor?" Kagome asked innocently, not understanding what it meant to be a warrior in such time. "Or is it just fear that you'll never stop hurting. You don't have to be brave in front of me."
Together on the grass, hands grasping.
Her shoulders sagged as Kagome named her fear, gave it breath and life. She was afraid. Sango had looked into the future and seen herself become a ghost of the woman she wanted to be. A cold uncaring creature who froze in the summer and harbored death and hatred between her hands. That was her fear. Those she loved died, left her alone with no way to mend the past.
"I loved him," she whispered, tears shining on her cheeks. "I'll never be able to love anyone again."
Skin tasting of salt.
"Of course you will," Kagome soothed, stroking away her tears with soft fingers.
Tongues teasing.
Leaning forward, eyes holding hers, Kagome reached out to take Sango's grief between her palms and gently kissed her. Once on the cheek like a sister, once on the other cheek like a friend. Then she eased forward and pressed her warm lips against Sango's to chase away the chill.
Yes.
Neither would have predicted that the simple kiss made from compassion and friendship would ignite something far warmer. Just as Sango didn't believe in the future, Kagome could disregard the past. Suddenly nothing really mattered anymore, just the feel of their hands intertwined and a shared secret between their eyes.
Burning desire, hot, slick, wet.
Sango's lips parted, but it was Kagome that threw caution to the wind and kissed her again without being asked. More than just a chaste brush of lips, more than just a gesture to ease a troubled friend, they fell together as if they'd practiced such a thing for hours. Sango was dizzy, but she was warm right down to her toes and could feel again.
Teeth against tender flesh.
Hot and passionate kisses, whispers in the dark as the two explored without fear, without censure. Sango had never dreamed that it would soothe her to hold someone in her arms, or that being held by another would salve the pain of going on without him. Kagome's kisses were fire and butterfly wings, it was enough not to think anymore, only to feel and taste and live for the brief moments in between.
Bodies grinding together, fingernails raking down her back.
Hands roamed in silky dark hair, gentle laughter in the grass, testing for responses and finding them with soft cries and soothing touches. Sango's fingers traced the velvet curve of a hip, Kagome's palm warmed the shape of a breast. They joined and lay together under the starlit sky, just breathing, holding each other with legs and arms wrapped tight against the chill.
Wanting, needing, seeking.
At dawn, they dressed and exchanged shy smiles, blissful promises. Sango met the sun with brighter eyes and told the future from the ways the grass moved and the wind teased her hair. She herself became lighter and the burden,although still heavy no longer weighed her down. She might rediscover laughter, one of Miroku's sly jokes or Shippo's games might make her smile. Kirara's soft fur felt alive between her no longer numb fingers and even Inuyasha's eyes brightened when they met hers and found no dark despair.
Peaceful.
And Kagome was still her friend, smiles and warm touches on the shoulder, girlish laughs and teasing. And if they always went alone to bathe in the hot springs and if they took longer than they had before, there were no comments. It wasn't the steaming water that made their cheeks flush so, but a loving sisterhood of shared secrets.
Comforted.
She predicted it couldn't last forever. The higher the flames of passion burned, the quicker they would flicker and die. And Sango refused to ask for more, refused to look for her fate in omens or signs. What the future held for her, she couldn't guess and didn't speculate upon. But on the nights when Kagome's hair brushed across her bare skin and gentle lips sought her own, Sango gave even fate a chance.
Loved.
Predictably, they had turned to each other out of need, out of compassion, out of loneliness. One warm, caring, sweet natured soul reaching out to another, wanting only to salve away the sadness and loss. Sango tried not to let her heart crumble when she thought about it, knew in silent despair with a shocking certainty although she was no seer.
So hot, so soft.
Village wise women and mountain witches make charms, she thought to herself. They claim that they can read the stars or that they can tell the future from the pattern of tea leaves. Sango wasn't sure she believed any of it, but she would have paid whatever she needed to in order to make it true.
Touch me.
It couldn't have been divined by either of them and it certainly hadn't been planned. Sango had heard tales of fortune tellers who were said to read the future in the entrails of animals. In the warmth of death lay the secrets of a beating heart. She had seen too much of blood and the steaming insides of bodies to believe that she'd find answers there.
Still, when she was weak, she rubbed her hand across her stomach and wondered. If she were cut open, all her secrets and needs laid bare, perhaps by the gentle touch of a sickle shaped blade, would anyone find her answers there?
I need you.
She wanted to be alone. Her brother was dead. Her beautiful boy, her last and only link to who she really was. Her Kohaku, never again would she feel his arms around her, never again would she bury her face in his hair when he blushed. That tortured, sweet and deadly child, of her heart but not her womb, had been stolen from her again.
What kind of cruel fate could have ordained that she must hold her dying love in her arms and feel him die a second time? Almost she'd wanted to beg Naraku to kill her again also, let them not be parted, let them not be parted yet again.
But the crimson eyed monster, that laughing death with a beautiful face, had denied her once again. His voice still whispered mockingly in her ears, a corrupt shard sparkling like forbidden desire between his fingers.
Please me.
She'd offered herself to him, standing over her beloved boy, begged him to take her life and make her his slave. Only let Kohaku live, let him live and go free and she would be whatever he wanted, whatever he made her into. It was the very last thing she could offer him and the very last thing he could refuse to take.
For refuse he did and left her stained upon the ground. Kohaku's usefulness was at an end, Naraku told her with a gentle evil on his lips. I have no need of you at all. It was my gift that you were allowed to say goodbye to him before I set him free.
Lips on skin, soft fingers between her thighs.
She couldn't say goodbye, she could not force those words from her throat. They choked her, shredded her tongue like the dry dust of his body, like the ashes of a funeral pyre. Her lungs were full of him, every time she drew breath she'd taste Kohaku in the back of her mouth and hate herself for wanting it.
Sango carried his blade now, slung low upon her hip. If a seer had looked into her midnight eyes he would have predicted that she'd use that blade to slay many. She would, she did, but not just for Kohaku. The blade was sharp, sharp as her despair, and the chain was strong, steadfast as her heart. If she couldn't follow death, she would become it and tear the living breath from every monster she met because it was not fair, it was not right that they should live while her brother was dead.
Fire in her belly, kisses on her breast.
But she could not have predicted that she would find the slaughter empty or that her fingers would grow cold with pain when she used his blade. Revenge does not cure death, no more than justice can undo the damage of a shattered jewel.
Sango withdrew more into herself, the shell of her body her only home, but found no solace in isolation. She found no solace in company either, her heart had gone cold and she knew, she foretold with a frightening accuracy not unlike the blade of a knife that it would not be long before she withdrew from the world completely.
I need more.
Kagome found her like that, late one night, deep in the forest. She was kneeling, holding Kohaku's blade in her hands like she could read her future in the gleam of its surface. She only had to force herself a little, the blade was very sharp and in a way, it would be like dying at his hands instead of her own.
"Weren't you even going to say goodbye to me?"
The soft voice startled her and Sango looked up to see such pain standing in Kagome's eyes. Compassion for her suffering, grief at her tragic loss.
"I don't know what else to do," Sango said, her voice broken and dull, rusted to the color of Naraku's eyes, old blood on glass. "I promised to protect him, Kagome. And I failed him."
Please. Save me.
Kagome knelt beside her, one warm hand covering Sango's, keeping the blade still. "It's not a failure to love and try your best," she said gently. "It's not a failure to want to keep him close to your heart."
"I did fail!" Sango cried, trying to pull the sickle from Kagome's insistent hand. "I failed them all, Kohaku, my father. You and the others. The only honorable thing left to do is take my own life, as I should have done from the beginning."
"Is it for honor?" Kagome asked innocently, not understanding what it meant to be a warrior in such time. "Or is it just fear that you'll never stop hurting. You don't have to be brave in front of me."
Together on the grass, hands grasping.
Her shoulders sagged as Kagome named her fear, gave it breath and life. She was afraid. Sango had looked into the future and seen herself become a ghost of the woman she wanted to be. A cold uncaring creature who froze in the summer and harbored death and hatred between her hands. That was her fear. Those she loved died, left her alone with no way to mend the past.
"I loved him," she whispered, tears shining on her cheeks. "I'll never be able to love anyone again."
Skin tasting of salt.
"Of course you will," Kagome soothed, stroking away her tears with soft fingers.
Tongues teasing.
Leaning forward, eyes holding hers, Kagome reached out to take Sango's grief between her palms and gently kissed her. Once on the cheek like a sister, once on the other cheek like a friend. Then she eased forward and pressed her warm lips against Sango's to chase away the chill.
Yes.
Neither would have predicted that the simple kiss made from compassion and friendship would ignite something far warmer. Just as Sango didn't believe in the future, Kagome could disregard the past. Suddenly nothing really mattered anymore, just the feel of their hands intertwined and a shared secret between their eyes.
Burning desire, hot, slick, wet.
Sango's lips parted, but it was Kagome that threw caution to the wind and kissed her again without being asked. More than just a chaste brush of lips, more than just a gesture to ease a troubled friend, they fell together as if they'd practiced such a thing for hours. Sango was dizzy, but she was warm right down to her toes and could feel again.
Teeth against tender flesh.
Hot and passionate kisses, whispers in the dark as the two explored without fear, without censure. Sango had never dreamed that it would soothe her to hold someone in her arms, or that being held by another would salve the pain of going on without him. Kagome's kisses were fire and butterfly wings, it was enough not to think anymore, only to feel and taste and live for the brief moments in between.
Bodies grinding together, fingernails raking down her back.
Hands roamed in silky dark hair, gentle laughter in the grass, testing for responses and finding them with soft cries and soothing touches. Sango's fingers traced the velvet curve of a hip, Kagome's palm warmed the shape of a breast. They joined and lay together under the starlit sky, just breathing, holding each other with legs and arms wrapped tight against the chill.
Wanting, needing, seeking.
At dawn, they dressed and exchanged shy smiles, blissful promises. Sango met the sun with brighter eyes and told the future from the ways the grass moved and the wind teased her hair. She herself became lighter and the burden,although still heavy no longer weighed her down. She might rediscover laughter, one of Miroku's sly jokes or Shippo's games might make her smile. Kirara's soft fur felt alive between her no longer numb fingers and even Inuyasha's eyes brightened when they met hers and found no dark despair.
Peaceful.
And Kagome was still her friend, smiles and warm touches on the shoulder, girlish laughs and teasing. And if they always went alone to bathe in the hot springs and if they took longer than they had before, there were no comments. It wasn't the steaming water that made their cheeks flush so, but a loving sisterhood of shared secrets.
Comforted.
She predicted it couldn't last forever. The higher the flames of passion burned, the quicker they would flicker and die. And Sango refused to ask for more, refused to look for her fate in omens or signs. What the future held for her, she couldn't guess and didn't speculate upon. But on the nights when Kagome's hair brushed across her bare skin and gentle lips sought her own, Sango gave even fate a chance.
Loved.