InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Tacit ❯ Tacit ( Chapter 1 )

AN: Okay, so this was a challenge that I put myself up to; make as many one-shots on background characters, character's and alternate pairings, with the fluffy sap of canon pairings added into the mix. And it started actually with the Kouga fic, but…yeah.

Some mild, implied hinting of Inuyasha/Sango. Not really much, not as much as I thought there was going to be, but it couldn't be helped. Sango and Inuyasha are just not the type to suddenly find romantic interest in one another. But anyways. A slight spin-off taking place a little after Chapter 182 in Volume 19. Deals with parts in Volume 18. It's just something small. It mostly deals with death, the emotions of Sango and Inuyasha, the kinship they share, and about a certain young boy with empty eyes and death looming over his shoulder…literally. I don't think there is sap, but people might prove me wrong.

Summary: Based after chapter 182, Volume 19 with an added dark twist. "It was when her pain became unbearable, that her mask cracked and her fears came to life. It was only strange coincident when the only man who could understand her weakness, was there to see it all happen." Loosely implied Inuyasha/Sango

Genre: Angst/Tragedy/Drama

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Umm…dark, deep thinking. Isolation, death, slight insanity. If you don't like reading about angst then you might not like. Alternate pairing.

IFS (Inspiration for Story): The small-depleted pile of Inuyasha/Sango fics. They were good but there was almost none. And I really don't know if my fic could even be accounted as an I x S. But who knows.

Comments, flames, criticisms, shameless plugs, advice, pointers, praises, one-word praises and any other such type of review is welcome in any and all of my fics. Any commentary is greatly appreciated.

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Tacit

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The night was dark, the sky empty and pale against the faint light of the moon. Glistening against the rushing waters of a nearby creek, it gave off an almost sinister glow, casting dim and curling shadows against the forest foliage. The tree's extended, leafless limbs stood hauntingly beneath the darkness, crooked fingers jutting out of broken, swaying arms as the faint light barely breathed against its serrated tough bark. Wilting brown leaves clumped together in earthy mounds, mixing with dirt to make streaks of black against any visible surface. The river's water was as clear and as cold as ice.

The atmosphere here was cautious, tense, secluded and isolated, almost as though at any moment, everything would erupt into a wild frenzy of chaos and disaster. Not that it was uncommon in theses times; youkai lurked in every corner of the world now a days, hiding beneath the fragile surface of uneasy and unbalanced peace, only to break free in a moment of weakness, lunging and tearing at anything and everything in reach. But for some reason, this small abandoned corner of the world stood hauntingly alone, behind imaginary prison bars that separated it from the rest of the universe. As though because of a crime it had no intention of committing, it was being punished.

The place was cold, dark, and empty.

…It almost held a sense of familiarity to her.

Standing on the outskirts of the clearing, her dry yukata in hand, Sango gazed at the scenery with hooded eyes, her lithe and dark robed figure blending seamlessly into the shadows. A sword sheathed to the hilt was gripped tightly in her left hand, and beneath the black cloth of her taijya's arm wrap, her knuckles were bleached white with a resigned bitterness.

This place, with its dead trees and ice cold water, reminded her too much of the emptiness in her heart.

The emptiness that hid beneath an imaginary porcelain mask; one that covered her face, her soul, her mind. It hid everything she had ever thought, ever felt, ever dreamed about, covering over it like a canopy, protecting everything inside from those on the outside. It was her sword, her shield, her clothing; without it, she felt vulnerable and open, easy to be overtaken.

She looked around the clearing, gazing over the dead grass, the brown leaves, the clumps of dirt, and the pebbles.

She hated it here.

She hated the fact that everything in her view stood for everything that was bottled up inside her, festering slowly like a wound unwashed.

The tangling bushes, the struggling plants, the strangling thorns; everything seemed to be fighting each other, fighting itself, for dominance, for reign, for survival. It fought battles that reminded her of the wars she fought with herself, and she hated it.

Because she was so much alike to the loneliness and the…insanity that permeated the very air that she breathed. It was dark, miasmic, foggy. It carried a heaviness that enveloped her, suffocated her, dragged her down. It taunted her.

She truly hated it here.

But…where else was there to go?

She stared at the ground quietly, knowing that with only one more step, she would be in this clearing. Not shadowing its edge with a forlorn restlessness, circling the area like a whimpering dog unable to reach its prey. She would be in the clearing and over towards the small river. Where as she crawled slowly into the cold, numbing water, the only kind of water to wash away both the physical and mental dirt that soiled her freshly opened wounds, she would, if only for a moment, feel clean and empty of emotions and pain.

The thought excited her; she had been going on for so long with pain burning at her insides, that the chance to pretend it wasn't there was a blissful ecstasy that she would indulge in to the fullest.

Even if it was selfish and shameful, she couldn't help it.

She wanted that freedom.

But…it was still that first, one footstep…

She hesitated, her form wavering.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff; one misplaced move could shatter the foundation beneath her feet, leaving her nothing to grip and no one to catch her. It was a… frightening thought.

'I'm being illogical.' she reasoned with herself. Fear was not about to control her. 'Nothing is going to go anywhere, and neither am I.'

But she still felt the small trembling quake that skimmed from the tip of her toes to the thin of her spine, dancing under her skin and rattling the top of her skull. As much as she denied the emotion, she was not stupid to her own plight. She knew what she was feeling.

Hate.

Emptiness.

She felt alone in the darkness. Well, in a truer, more meaningful way at least. All her life she had been alone; alone hunting, alone fighting, alone as a woman, and now… alone as a taijya. But what she was feeling at the moment was far from the feeling of being physically alone.

This was the kind of isolation that one succumbed to by themselves out in the wild forests and dangerous lands of Japan; the kind that swept through you in one mustering blast and left you without sanity. The kind that sunk to the very pit of your stomach, and ever so slowly crawled like the plague into every pore, every vein, every breath, until there was nothing left of you but flesh and blood. Where your mind disappeared and you were no better then an instinctual animal, a killing machine, a beast.

It was not something that she was used to. It scared her more then she would admit.

Sango closed her eyes. Suddenly, a long thin crack blossomed across her imaginary porcelain mask and something bright flashed beneath her eyelids. A wave of voices descended upon her head; voices of once happy times whispering softly, voices of dreams speaking in a strange tongue, voices she heard only in her nightmares screaming above all the rest in a mind shattering snarl.

Weakling.

Stupid woman.

Worthless.

She fought to control the tide of words that erupted in her head, searching for that strand of control that dangled hauntingly before her.

This was something that had started happening every night since that encounter with…Kohaku. The time he had clenched his weapon in his hand and had been about to slay her friend, the time he had looked at her with eyes as empty as the soul he did not posses.

A part of her had died the second she had seen the blank, vacant expression painted over his delicate face.

Because it was the expression she glimpsed at in her reflection every night.

Did that make her really, truly dead too?

The voices grew louder. She gripped her control. They vanished.

Her riddled mask enveloped around her seamlessly once again.

Sango opened her eyes. For a moment, she wished she could find some freedom from the overpowering stench of self-loathing that tasted in the air and burned her lungs. It reeked of misery and disgust, of weakness and of shame. One breath and it sucked her deeper into her body, so deep that she didn't have the strength to crawl back out again. She wished with all her heart, in just one moment, that she could let death grasp her in its clutches, and rock her to sleep in a blissful numb indifference.

The second it surfaced in her mind, she squished it down.

Suicidal thoughts meant death. Death meant cowardice.

She was no coward.

And she wasn't about to become one.

Using an expertise she had long since mastered, she sliced down on those doubts, casting the weaknesses from her mind with a flick of mental concentration. It was done with practiced ease; she could feel the sensation of ice sheathing over her, leaving only frozen remains of the voices, the pain, and the poison that trickled into her mind.

It was…surprisingly…wonderful. She welcomed it with open arms.

But even then, she couldn't stop the last drop of venom from seeping into her next thought, a thought that threatened to crack the ice that incased her once again and leave her lying in its shattered remains.

'Death would be so much more easier to handle then living.'

It was almost funny how large a dent that left in the solitude safe house she had been sweating to build around her.

It hurt.

Instantly, the animosity was gone, leaving not a trail to mark its passing. But Sango was neither deaf nor blind to the working of her senses; the taste of hatred on her tongue was just as repugnant as the memory of its burden.

It was one of the many times in her life she hated being weak, hated succumbing to her emotions and whims, hated being like every other vulnerable woman in her time. Hated the sweetness of kind actions, hated the delicacy of sugarcoated words.

Hated herself.

Because even if she wished to be treated roughly and brusquely, treated with equality, treated with the respect only men where given, she would never get the chance.

She was a woman.

And she hated herself for it.

A chill wind blew through the clearing, rustling through the dead limbs of tree and lapping at the crystal clear water in the thin but deep river. Silently, Sango looked around, checking her surroundings one last time, before stepping into the small clearing with cautious, light steps. Her breath plumed in the air as she trekked towards the river's quiet edge, the only available water to bathe in, in a 3-mile radius from their camp.

Kneeling swiftly before it, she set her dry yukata down and studied the water, her eyes narrowed. She stared at a wavering feminine pale face, with brown hard eyes framed by thick long black hair.

Suddenly it morphed into another face, a boyish face with short hair and freckles, a face with blank eyes, before returning to the previous face of a woman left with nothing. Lifting a hand, Sango reached out a finger and traced the cheek of her reflection.

Then with a quick movement, swatted it from her sight.

The water was cold, numb against her blood-warmed hands, but she didn't care. Standing up from her kneeled position, she flipped her hair over, not giving her reappearing reflection another glance.

She began to undress.

Stripping her taijya suit off of her sweaty body, feeling the cold air swamp her slick skin till it prickled, Sango discarded the clothing with a swift jerk and let it drop at her feet. She paused a moment, letting the wind caress her bare form, before pulling her hair out of its tie. As her long hair fell to her waist, its thick oiliness weighing at her shoulders, she hesitated again, her lip gnawed between her teeth.

The wind's fingers tickled at her back, tracing against the edge of her whitening and still visible large scar, the last memory of a life that had died with her family.

Why was she still alive?

Respect. Equality.

She stepped into the river.

The water instantly attacked her as she sunk to first her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. Sharp lances of icy pain snapped through her pale warm-blooded flesh, hacking away at the heat with a vengeance born of hatred. It felt burning hot, it felt numbing cold; she could feel the throbbing of pain in her legs as her body strained desperately to adjust to the sudden and drastic change in temperature. A strong current bore down on her, rushing over her bruised skin with an icy driving fist, pushing against her as she struggled to keep a steady footing.

With a growl, she strained her legs and walked forward through the rushing water.

Nothing was about to stop her.

No person or thing would reach into her heart and rip it from her chest.

Not…

"…I'll kill you, then die myself!"

Not…

Not when she had herself to do it.

"…To free you from Naraku…this is the only way!"

Her vision clouded and she was brought back to the moment.

The moment she clenched his wrists in hers, pressing the tip of her blade to a throat that had been part of her own blood. She had given into weakness.

She had failed.

The pain that washed over her tore her control in half.

Her mask shattered into pieces too small to fix.

With a strangled cry, she choked and doubled over into the deeper and stronger part of the river. Her throat was dry and crackly as she lost her footing. Pulling her mind back to reality, she floundered, her hands frantically groping for a handhold, before she was dragged down the river.

Weak.

Womanly.

The words sizzled through her mind like poison once more, bubbling at her innards as she fought against the current.

Worthless as a fighter.

Worthless as a wife.

Her hand shot out as she stumbled, her fingers out stretched above the water as the rest of her plunged forward, her body being pressed down into the riverbed. The cold stabbed her once, twice, a million more times, tiny sharp needles driving into her skin with an imaginary hammer. Her mind screamed at her to fight like the warrior she was. To not let something as weak as a river defeat the most powerful taijya in all of the lands. To prove everyone wrong about her.

Her fingers stretched towards the shore even as her eyes fluttered shut. But…her body was just so tired…

'I'm too weak…' a small strangled whimper poured from her lips. 'I'm so worthless…'

She felt like she was running in circles, trapped in a box that was as empty and closed as her heart. She opened her mouth to cry out, but instantly water flooded into her, slipping down her throat, bubbling in her lungs. Her body jerked and pain tore through every fiber of her being. She didn't even notice the muffled cry of her name as she was slowly swallowed by an endless darkness. She was sinking. She was broken.

The voices began to grow dimmer, each one evaporating one by one into the black. As the last one faded, whispered words echoed softly in her ear, a gentle caress with a rough touch.

Can't even protect her family.

Something within her snapped.

Her eyes wrenched open as a fury she had never felt before poured through her body, burning away the numbness and leaving every inch of her skin alive with fire. Her foot founding footing in the slippery pebbly ground and with burst of strength she exploded out of the water, a cry tearing from her throat as her lungs gasped in needed air. Droplets of water scattered, the river suddenly calmer and weaker as she plowed through it to the waters edge, adrenaline pounding through her every artery. With a single heave, she flung herself towards the safer, shallower part of the river, her arms wrapping around her chest as she hit the gravely and dirt mixed shore with a thud.

Stars exploded in her eyes.

She pushed him against the ground, the blade of her sword pressed against his neck. Tears pooled at her eyes as she stared into his empty black ones, her gaze searching through his blank stare for some kind of emotion, some kind of heart, some kind of life.

Minuets passed as they stared each other off, his younger body captured beneath her in a strong grip.

She saw nothing.

She drew in a shaky breath.

"Kohaku…" she whispered fiercely, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword, feeling the chain of his sickle beneath her fingers. "I will…set you free…" Bracing her left arm against his shoulder, she lifted the sword with a clink, its tip pointed at Kohaku's chest, right above his heart. "But I won't let you die alone." Her head lowered and her eyes clenched a moment, before Sango's head whipped back towards him violently, crystal tears scattering into the air.

"I'm sorry…I'll soon be at your side too!"

Lying on the ground, her breath coming out in large, gasping pants, Sango let her body go limp. Half of her body from the waist down lay in the water, her head resting against the moist earthy riverside. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip softly.

She couldn't deny it. No matter how her temper flared, no matter how it hurt to hear, it was all the truth.

She had almost taken the one thing that she would never be able to give back.

She had…she had almost killed him.

Small white tears leaked from her brown eyes, sobs choking at her throat.

'I'm…I'm such a failure…'

"You are such a crazy bitch, you know that?"

Sango's eyes snapped open, her hands instantly tightening around her chest. Her thoughts left her; her tears froze on her face. A shadow loomed over her form, a shadow with long billowing clothing and a masculine figure. Sango's breath hitched:

Someone had watched her play the weak woman.

Someone male.

Instantly, Houshi-sama's figure appeared in her minds eye, a wavering outline with a charming sly grin. She could almost see the amusement in his eyes, the laughter that would bubble at his throat at the spectacle laid out before him. She growled low, her fists clenching as the thought of him seeing her in such a manner brought a new found anger coursing through her veins. She forgot her pain, forgot her sorrow. She let the anger take control of her mind; let it shield her from everything but the rush of adrenaline that surged through her body. She thrived in it.

That damn houshi would never-

-Wait.

Sango froze. The power of fire that had raced through her once before chilled, shriveling. Her anger pulsed beneath the sheet of ice laced once more over her emotions.

Houshi-sama never called anyone bitch.

Gradually, a dawning realization came to her. Her eyes widened.

No…no it couldn't be…

Slowly, almost as though any sudden movement would shatter the fragile tense atmosphere that suddenly blanketed the area, Sango looked up from the dirt, her gaze traveling up worn feet, a bright red hakama-

-And into the face of a confused and irritatedly angry hanyou.

Sango's mouth dropped.

Inuyasha.

Inuyasha stood before her, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. Beneath the silver of his hair, his soft white ears twitched spastically, one scanning the area for intruders, the other honed in on the silent, shocked naked girl lying on the ground. Sango's anger dissipated, instantly replaced with bewilderment.

What was he doing here?

Silence filled the clearing. After a moment, Inuyasha's expression shifted to one of unease and he shuffled his feet awkwardly. Sango continued to stare at him dumbfounded, and after a tense moment, Inuyasha growled in agitation.

"What are you staring at?"

Sango snapped from her trance. Blinking at him a moment with her dark brown eyes, she pulled herself from her sluggish, muddled thoughts and took in everything around her.

She was depressed and angry. She was in a clearing naked. Inuyasha had found her. Inuyasha was glaring at her.

…and she was lying there like the weak woman she was, at mercy to anyone's will and power.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly and she wrapped her arms around her tighter. Anger bubbled at her core, burning the ice away to reveal bright red flames dancing in her eyes. Once again, everything was forgotten in the moment of blissful rage.

She needed to vent, she needed to feel satisfactory triumph in a victory, she needed to have her revenge.

How dare the hanyou act as though this was some normal everyday occurrence, to barge in on her naked and vulnerable as though he owned the place.

How dare he.

"What" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?" Her shoulders shook in suppressed anger, her hair plastered over the damp of her back.

Inuyasha snorted. "I was looking for you of course." Folding his arms over his chest, the uneasy look was instantly replaced with irritation. "Normal people don't usually get up in the middle of the night and walk off into the darkness." His tone was mocking. "But then again, you never really were normal, where you?"

He was egging her on, jabbing at her for some unreasonable excuse that she could not begin to fathom. He did this to her daily, like he did it to everyone, and normally, she would have ignored his comment. Or, like she did in secret, she would have enjoyed the treatment, the rough callousness, the kind of equal brutality that only men seemed to be given. She would have favored it over the sweet nothing words the houshi treated her with, would have turned away and smiled.

But her mask had fallen, her defenses broken, and her will to live had all but vanished. She ached of pent up emotions, ached of heartbreak, ached of failure.

Weak.

Womanly.

Worthless.

Suddenly everything was quiet, chilled, empty, dead. The words sizzled, hissed, and bubbled, curling around her, choking her, killing her. With one breath, everything whooshed out of her, and she was weak and broken and damn stupid.

Everyone had a breaking point, a boundary that one never crossed.

His snide remark sent her over the edge.

Sango's anger flared. Dragging herself to her feet, she forgot the bareness and indecency of her skin, forgot the pain and sorrow, forgot the fact that this man had saved her life, saved her brother's life, saved her soul. She forgot the humanity that pulsed beneath her skin, forgot that she was a woman, forgot what it felt like to love, to care, to feel.

She felt nothing but pure, blind rage, and hatred for the pain and darkness that suddenly blossomed in her eyes. Hatred for the one who had caused it. Hatred at herself. A red haze covered her vision, and her body shook, trembled.

Sango lost it.

Before Inuyasha had time to react, she had pulled back her hand, balled it into a fist, and lodged it into his face.

As her fist made impact, she felt the bones in her hand, creak and bend, before shattering into pieces. Blood, both Inuyasha's and her own, splattered onto her hand, and small chunks of her skin split to let through hard white bone edges. But she felt nothing. The adrenaline pumping through her veins numbed her, froze her, ate her alive. She watched it happen with blank, uncaring eyes, as though she was standing outside of her body and looking in.

Inuyasha was too shocked to react at first. His head flew back, before the pure power of the hit sent his body propelling backwards. His back hit the ground, skidding against dirt and rocks as his hand went instantly to his face. Pain exploded through his head, and he bit his lip, drawing fat crimson droplets of blackish blood.

He came to a halt on the ground. His gaze was unfocused and blurry and he blinked his eyes frantically, dragging his arms away from his face. The sound of pounding footsteps vibrated the ground and he tensed.

Something flashed in his vision. With a heave of his throbbing body, he pushed off the ground with his hands, catapulting towards the side just as Sango's foot slammed into the ground right where his head had been. A rock beneath her foot exploded into pieces under her driving force. Bracing himself against a nearby tree, Inuyasha pulled himself up and looked up at the taijya, who was running towards him with a blank hollow face, her eyes covered by her thick bangs.

He jumped out of the way and over her head as she threw another punch. Her fist embedded deep into the trunk of the tree he had leaned on, and small chunks of bark showered down around her. Landing ten feet away from her, Inuyasha crouched low on the ground, his eyes wide.

What…what had just happened?

Sango jerked her hand out of the tree, small bark chips bursting. Small rivulets of blood dribbled down her hands, splattering into dirty red puddles on the ground. Slowly, in an almost calming manner, she turned towards him, her hair still covering her face. Inuyasha stood up and watched her with narrowed, concentrated eyes. She charged him again, her body shadowed in the darkness.

He had to find away to stop her.

He caught her left fist as it came towards him, then her broken right one, and it made him wince as her bones dug into his skin. With her eyes still lowered, Sango brought her knee up to sock him in the stomach, but he maneuvered out of that as well, batting her leg away with his own. Thrashing out of his hold with inhumane strength, she lunged at him again, her fists clenched and her muscles bulging.

They fought. For every punch she threw he would parry, for every kick she aimed at him, he would dodge. Sweat gleamed against their skin as they fought neck to neck, her head lowered to his worried eyes. Broken branches lay wrecked on the floor where they had been thrown, patches of red smeared on any and every surface. She attacked him with endless amounts of power; he did not attack her at all.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the clearing, pushing her hair from her face mid kick and giving Inuyasha a clear view of her eyes. Even her kick to his stomach was nothing compared to the pain that shot through his chest at the sight. He was moving again, but he wasn't thinking, was barely breathing. Because…

Her eyes were black.

Empty, dead, tortured, black. The black that was tangible enough to choke you with an iron fist, the kind that burned in the hearts of the most feared and the most hated. The black that gleamed cruelly, hauntingly, maliciously in nightmares, the kind that was unexplainable, unforgivable, the kind that no shade of darkness could ever match. It gleamed in her eyes like black diamonds, brighter then any light could ever blind him.

She's…she's…

Gone.

And he was hollow. Like something had dropped onto the gleaming, reflecting waters that filled inside of him, and shattered the simple perfection into a million pieces. Like everything he had built up had just fallen apart.

Something resounded in him emptily, crying out in sympathy. Remembering, fighting, reaching its length to share a knowledge only those who understand could ever feel.

And then his eyes could see, but couldn't see, and instead of his surroundings, he saw a painting in his minds eye, like the ones that his mother used to hang on the walls and tell stories about. But this wasn't like those pictures; this was real. Everything around him; the trees, the shadows, the river, the rocks; they were the painted backdrop. The river was alive in blue fire, the trees swayed in an unseen breeze, the leaves rustled softly by invisible white pearly fingers.

If it had been real, it would have been beautiful. Beautiful in a terrible, surreal way, but beautiful.

But it wasn't. Because in the middle, with her face hidden in shadows and her body bleeding, stood a Sango with glowing red eyes. And those eyes were moving and they were full of vengeance. And it was clear and crisp, and there was pain and despair poured on top of it all, with a thin layer of anger and a thick coat of hopelessness. And the sky swirled grey with despondent restlessness, and it tortured him and stabbed him. But even then, what stood out the most to him was the hatred that burned of black fire in her eyes, that started from the center of her pupils and began to spread and web out, taking root. And it scared him, and horrified him, and reminded him all at the same time. Because he had seen those eyes before, seen that black seep into the crimson like a poison and steal away courage and strength and hope.

He had seen it once, twice, one cold night and one damp sunless day, in the silvery ripple of red blood gleaming by moonlight. By the glassy reflecting eyes of the people, thieves, he had watched die horribly, painfully, in the worst possible way.

By his hands.

When the lust of death had taken its hold on him and he had lost his only anchor to keep him as himself. When his anger was not only of human, but of demon as well. His eyes had changed, his hatred had grown, and he had felt like he was being torn in two, spinning in an endless spiral that was filled with only misery and universal torture.

It was only when the terrified eyes of those people reflected his inhumanity that he realized that it wasn't he who was being torn apart.

It was them.

Horror filled him once again, drowning him, suffocating him like it did when he was alone and had nothing to distract him from the tainted blood on his hands. It ran thick over him like sludge and robbed him of sight, of touch, of smell. It felt like he was dying all over again, torn little by little into shredded scarred pieces. And he wanted to scream so badly, to cry and find some way to end his pain and misery, to make his death quicker and less painful.

And then he was back, and he was fighting Sango, and she was attacking him with all she had, which was nothing at all.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

Sango knew. She knew what it was like. And if she knew what it was like, then he wasn't alone. He wouldn't have to be alone.

He would do anything to save her.

And for once in his life, he realized, he wasn't fighting to prove anything, to win, to know that he was the best, the most triumphant, half of everything and yet more whole in battle then any pure blood breed. Yes, he fought to protect those he loved, yes, he fought to save the lives of others, and yes he fought for good. But this time, he wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone, didn't have that soft, whispering hiss in his mind telling him that no one cared because he was only half of what they were.

This time it was different.

This time, he was fighting a person who had been his partner in battle for days, months, years; the woman who wore her mask of porcelain as though it were a part of her. And he was fighting to bring her back from something only she could save herself from, fighting to give her back that one breath of life that had been breathed out one to many times. He was fighting for something beyond him.

He was fighting a losing battle. And he was doing it willingly.

And that was what surprised him, that was what set it apart from so many other battles, that was what made it different, and that was what finally made him understand.

Because this was not Sango; this was a person who had nothing left to fight for, who was just moving through the motions like a mindless drone who had no mind of its own. He should not have cared, should have fought like a warrior and fought for survival. Should have done the one thing that would have been the most helpful to her; put her out of her misery.

Be he didn't, wouldn't, and just…couldn't.

Because he too knew what it was like to teeter on that thinning line between reality and insanity.

And he would be damned before he let Sango fall over that edge and experience just what he had felt.

Inuyasha ducked another punch, pulling back from the shady hazardous trees and down towards the river. Sango followed, blinded to everything but her fight. She had no battle tactics, she had no mind; it was just her and her fists and the will to dominate. And she had power, oh so much power, and that was what made her strong. Suddenly, Inuyasha dodged her kick, gripped her leg and pulled; suddenly, Sango was in water.

The coldness seemed to drive into her heart like a thousand needles, pinning her down and sucking the heat from her. Her head plunged beneath the river and the water sheathed her like ice, embracing her dying form. Her skin turned blue and her pained eyes closed tight.

Suddenly, she breathed and she was alive once again.

The hatred burning in her heart left her, leaving her insides empty. The blackness in her eyes dimmed and she hung limply in the water. Every part of her began to give off a slightly warm pulse, almost as though if she were out of this freezing water, she would have burned. Part of her wished she was. Part of her clung to the cold, awaiting deaths swift approach. And the last part of her, the part of her that held a thread of understanding, wept. And then the coldness swept over her and she stopped weeping and wished the end.

She had given up, was only so many broken pieces to a whole; hated life and didn't want to live it anymore. If she had had a knife, she would have plunged it straight through her heart and let herself bleed into an empty ecstasy. She wanted to die so badly.

And then, something splashed above her and a warm hard hand was gripping her arm and dragging her up. As she broke the surface, her sound and feel and smell came back to her. A screaming echoed in her ears.

"Sango! What the fuck do you think your doing?" Inuyasha's voice shouted at her in the darkness. Sango's eyes shut tighter. Why was she seeing Inuyasha? Why was she hearing Inuyasha? Wasn't she supposed to be dead? For a moment, she imagined hysteria in that voice, worry lined underneath the anger and roughness. "You can't fucking do this!" Something shook her shoulders forcefully. What? She wasn't supposed to feel in death, was she? This was just a dream, right? She opened her eyes and saw red and silver and black and light. She saw the world the way she had left it.

Then she realized, as Inuyasha gripped her shoulders in his hands, she wasn't dreaming. She was still alive.

And she became angry.

"I can fucking do this if I want!" She screamed in his face. "Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do!" She curled her fist angrily, ignoring the pain burning helplessly at her skin. She was on fire. She was on ice. She was graying in between, on a line that teetered one direction then the other. Inuyasha shook her again.

"Then you'd let yourself die!?"

"Yes!"

Everything went silent. An empty silence, where even nature held its breath. The wind stopped moving, the trees stopped swaying. The river stopped roaring and only began to trickle. A dark black cloud covered the moon, and everything was cast in shadow. Like a painting.

Inuyasha's eyes gleamed softly in the dim light, unreadable.

"Then you are a coward."

It was whispered so softly that Sango almost didn't hear it. And when she did hear it, it was then that everything hit her. She didn't answer, knowing that if she did, every word coming from her mouth would be a lie. Because now, she was too tired to keep up the scam, to tired to continue the lie and believe in something that would never and could never be.

She was no warrior.

She was only a cowering woman.

Suddenly, almost frantically, Inuyasha gripped her shoulders tighter, his eyes flashing. "Tell me you're not a coward!" His voice was lined with desperation as he shook her helplessly. "Say it!" He needed to know what she thought of herself, needed to know if she truly believed in what she was. If she didn't…

Her head bowed, and a small whimper escaped her. "I can't."

The silence after those words was unbearable, frozen, dead. Sango reached down and gripped Inuyasha's limp hand, before ever so slowly, bringing it up to her chest and pressing the tips of his fingers next her heart. His nails pierced the cloth. "I'm…not brave. I'm not strong, I'm not a fighter. I give in, I let go, I forget. I pine away for things that will never come to be." she whispered softly, breathily. Then her eyebrows narrowed, her eyes darkened and she was shouting at him.

"You wouldn't understand!! You're a youkai!! Mindless!!! You wouldn't understand!!!" She screamed, desperation and tears leaking through her voice. The words cut at him. "You don't know what its like to live half dead!! To pretend that everything will be fine in the end!!! That your little brother is out there, killing people, because you couldn't save him." She was hysterical now. Her hand pressed hard against his, and droplets of crimson blood wormed its way down his fingers. "You don't get it!! It's like falling asleep to a nightmare, a nightmare that chases you and hunts you down. And then when you wake up, you can't escape because then you realize your living your nightmare, and everyday it gets just a little harder to breath. The blood… so much blood… everywhere you look…"

Her voice lowered, faded into only a whisper, a sob. Dark red tears leaked down her face, painting over her cheeks and chin, mingling with sweat and blood. She was weeping, stuttering, forcing out the words with every ounce of her soul. "…You don't understand…you don't understand…" she repeated softly, her voice waning. "You can't understand." The whisper was dead, breathy, like the wind scattering human ashes over the land. Like the earth's rumble as it settles over the bodies of graves, as it listens to secrets only the dead can remember. Letting her head drop, she stood quietly once again, listening to the steady beat of her heart and feeling the steady throb of pain that pounded at her chest. She couldn't think, she couldn't believe he would understand.

After a moment, she looked up at him, her eyes not glassy or angry, just…empty and hollow. Her breath faltered.

"Please. Just…kill me. End my pain."

Silence. Empty and dark silence. Inuyasha stood there watching her, an expression of shock, of hopelessness, of anger on his face. For a moment, it almost looked like she had finally won him over, finally revealed to him what she had been hoping beyond hope that he would understand. That she had to die because she couldn't go on, because she couldn't fail one more time. Because it wasn't fair.

But then, something flashed in Inuyasha's eyes, something that Sango was too slow to catch, something that sparked before disappearing. His face shuttered instantly, the lines of his mouth hard and rigid, his eyes cold, but something about the way he looked at her…

"Sango." Inuyasha said quietly, firmly. His hand withdrew from her chest, dark rivulets of blood swirled on it, and let it drop by his side. "Don't be a fool."

The way he looked at her… It was almost like, almost like he was wearing a mask. A mask that had been beaten and cracked and riddled with age and scars but a mask that hid everything underneath its tough shell. So that it could protect both from the inside and out.

"Only a fool would want to die in such a way." He continued, lowering his eyes. The wind ruffled his hair. "Only a fool would say that death is better then living, breathing, life. And you're not a fool."

It clicked.

It smacked her so hard she forgot to breath.

It was like…like he was hiding. Hiding behind a mask, hiding his feelings, his passions, his heart.

"You've lived, you've faced the end, you made it through. You've struggled to make an impossible jump and your halfway damn across it. You fight the demons on the earth and in your heart, you've survived countless murders, a lost family, and you're still damn strong. So don't you dare fucking tell me your weak, that your not a warrior, that you can't go on because I damn know well that you can!!!" His voice raised, anger bleeding into his expression, his eyes. The muscle in his jaw clenched tightly. "Don't you dare."

She stared at him, the numbness in her body suddenly tingling at her senses, and a familiarity sparked at her thoughts.

He…he hid himself….

…just like she did.

His words tumbled back at her and they shook the foundations of her doubts, making her question.

…Strong?

"Your not alone. You're fucking not alone. Your fucking here, your fucking alive, and your going to stay that way. You're not weak, your not a coward, so don't suddenly start now!!!

How…?

How?

But…

But if he hid himself…then…maybe…

"You've got pain; yes, but all of us have pain. You've been hurt; yes but all of us have been hurt. You've lost your family; well you know what, I lost my family too. So don't think your fucking alone because your not!! Your not!! Just because I'm half youkai doesn't mean I don't understand!!! I know what your feeling!!!! I know!!!!!!!!!"

It was then it hit her, at that moment, when his last words still echoed in her mind, that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong.

Maybe…she…

She wasn't alone.

Inuyasha's hands gripped her shoulders tightly. His palms were clammy and stuck to her wet skin, his amber eyes pounding into her brown ones, fired and bright with an intense heat. Even if she would have struggled, he wouldn't have let her go, wouldn't have let her fight him. He was forcing her to understand. She watched him, her mouth open, her eyes wide, and stared, just stared. And something gargled in her throat, and she felt the world blurring in her eyes, watered with tears.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything…

And she crumbled.

Her arms wrapped around his torso, her head buried into his shoulder, and she cried. Saltine tears gleamed from her eyes and streaked down her cheeks, leaving small white trails only the moonlight could cast into the perfect pearly shade. Her bare body pressed against his, felt the heat underneath the wet cloth, and clung to it like it was a lifeline. Her mouth opened and a silent wail vibrated through her every pore, shaking her shoulders, her knees, her legs.

She cried for all she was worth in his arms for the very first time in five years. Five years of bottled up tears, pain, and disappointment. And it rushed out of her, poured out of her, left her wispy and weak and empty, but still she cried. Cried and cried and cried. Because…she wasn't alone…she…wasn't alone…

Inuyasha stood rigidly against her, nervous and unsure, hesitant and embarrassed. The anger was gone, a speck that dwindled into nothing. And then he was filled with something he couldn't name, something he had never felt before, and his arms carefully, hesitantly, wrapped around her. When she didn't budge, didn't move, didn't jump back in alarm, he pulled her close to him, knowing instinctually that she needed this kind of reassurance. She needed someone to help pick up her pieces, because right now, there was no one else that could.

He held her, and he listened to her tears. And he breathed. Truly, fully breathed. And suddenly the clouds seemed to lessen just a little and the darkness seemed to grey. And the clearing wasn't so gloomy, and everything seemed to gleam a little of hope. A hope that was prisoner to despair and pain, a hope that might ultimately leave him defenseless, shattered and dead, but a hope that gave him a tiny light in the dark.

But she was still broken and her nightmare was still living, burning in her heart. She was still crying, she was still in pain, and she was still caught trapped in a cycle that seemed eternally unattainable and unbreakable.

And…he was still broken too.

The pain still beat in his heart, in his body. It was still painted grotesquely in his mind, a picture of despair and disappointment. Nothing had been resolved, nothing had been cured, and now, the disease that had been eating at his heart seemed to fester and grow only worse. It revealed weakness that he hated all the more of himself and he still felt that darkness constricting around him, with only its grip lessened a fraction.

But also, something small in him pined away for that light in the dark, something gave into the fanciful dreams of something that wasn't reality, something that was only a wispy vision of fading perfection. And for that one moment, he didn't care because it didn't matter to him.

Because he wasn't the only one now, because there was somebody who understood him. And even if it sounded selfish…he was kind of glad. Because he wasn't alone anymore in something that not even Kagome had been able to help him with.

And the feeling that came with that realization was something he didn't want to let go of anytime soon.

Word Count: 8007

Pages: 17

Font: Verdana

Size: 9

AN: I was hoping it would be longer, and it didn't really come out the way I wanted it. I'm not satisfied to say the least. The ending seems to me too rushed. Oh well.