Dying to Live

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. However, the unique plot and original characters are mine. So, no touchy, lol... I do mean that seriously, though.

Summary:

The tables are turned in this alternate ending fic: At last, after 6 years Naraku is defeated, Inuyasha finally gets his wish, and Sesshomaru finds himself literally on the precipice between death and a whole new life. "Have you someone to protect?" someone once asked him... Sometimes it takes a brush with death to understand why we fight to live. Family, Romance, Drama, Relationships, Transformations. Rin x Sesshomaru and the whole cast.

::::

PROLOGUE

::::

Kohaku's eyes scanned the woods around him. The smell of the air was thick with the scent of wet vegetation and decomposing wood. The dense canopy of branches above held out the sunlight year-round so that moss and various types of mold and mushrooms were scattered across the muddy forest trail.

Deciding that his position was clear, the armor-clad youth paused on a matted pile of leaves, a few feet from a rotting log in the middle of the path. Reaching to one side, he loosened the fastener on a small leather pouch that was tied at his waist. From it he produced a small, ruby-colored crystal. It was about the size of a small hermit crab's shell and crafted into the shape of a tear drop. Glowing from the core of the little charm was a crimson hued light. Nearly a day before, when Kohaku had first started out on his journey, the light emanating from the crystal had been but a faint, flickering ember; now, however, the glass drop was brightly illuminated by the throbbing of its tiny, scarlet nucleus.

:

"Yes, Master?" Kohaku had said as he knelt obediently on one knee before his demonic lord. "You wish for me to do some task?"

"Yes," Naraku answered, his voice deep and sinister, as he moved out of the shadows to stand in front of his servant. In the form of Onigumo, he slid his pale, slender hand under the collar of his indigo over-garment to produce a dull, colorless stone shaped like a tear.

"I want you to take this crystal to the tomb in the forest," Naraku told him. As he said this, he held the crystallized drop in his left hand, between his index finger and thumb until it made small cuts in his skin and the blood trickled onto the stone. As a seed thirstily soaks up water given to it, the crystal rapidly absorbed the blood into its center until it blushed red and gleamed in the light. The core throbbed blood-red once and then immediately died down to a weak fluttering glow.

"When you arrive there, drop it into the grave and return here. The crystal will guide you to the tomb," Naraku instructed, as he dropped the crystal into Kohaku's cupped hands.

:

He was in the forest now, and Kohaku felt that the tomb was close by, judging by the stone's reaction.

Closing his hand around the crystal, Kohaku started toward the rotten log in the middle of the path. Although partially weathered away, the log was still massive, coming up mid thigh on Kohaku. Placing one foot up on the log for leverage and boosting himself up with both hands, he was able stand atop the log on its soft, soggy bark. Stealing another quick look at his surroundings, the boy prepared to launch off of the log, but just as he was about to spring away from it, he was over-powered by a sharp bolt of pain from his shoulder. Kohaku was vaguely aware that the pain was coming from the cramped spot on his back, just above his left shoulder-blade, the spot from which Naraku kept a hold over him. He screamed in pain as it surged down his left arm and shot in all directions across his back. Having lost his footing from shock, he slipped forward and collapsed into the mud at the base of the log. Paralyzed by the horrifying sensation that was blazing through his body, Kohaku lay motionless and sprawled in the mud. Naraku's bloody-red crystal continued to throb rhythmically in his open, outstretched palm.

A refreshing breeze was blowing in through the doorway of the small hut when Kohaku opened his eyes. Warm beneath the blankets that had been carefully laid over his body, the boy had been gently awoken by the refreshing summer air against his cheek. Slowly opening his eyes, Kohaku first noticed the bright strips of light that shone around the bamboo curtain covering the entrance to the hut; the curtain swung slightly in and out in the cool draft. There were no windows in the house, so the room was only dimly lit, but he could see that his armor had been laid out neatly in the far corner of the room.

Although he was fully awake, Kohaku rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheets up to his neck. This place was peaceful, and it made him feel relaxed as he watched the curtain shifting in the breeze.

Kohaku knew that he had once lived in a village in a hut similar to this one, because he had memories of it, and had occasionally dreamed of it. And sometimes he had dreams of the girl "Sango," who traveled with the young miko and Inyasha, his lord's greatest enemy. In his dreams, her eyes were soft and brown and her long, black hair was pulled up into a tie. He did not know exactly who she was, but he recognized her as a demon slayer from the armor that she wore. In his dreams, she always had a very gentle and kind face, although sometimes she would look as though she was very frightened, and the dreams would end. Kohaku felt that he had once known her, but feared that he may have done something horrible to her that he could not remember.

Tearing himself from the comfort of the bed, Kohaku folded back the sheets and hurried to dress. Once again fully downed in armor, he headed for the door, planning to find whoever had taken him in and give proper thanks. He drew back the bamboo curtain cheerfully; however, his good mood was treacherously pierced by the steel blade of irony as he turned into the brightness outside.

The sun's rays burned against his skin, despite the cool breeze that continued to carelessly skirt across the porch. At first blinded by the intense light, Kohaku lifted his hand to shield his eyes. The air here was stale and sour with death. The tainted scent was no stranger to Kohaku, yet his muscles contracted and his teeth ground.

The sight of the village only confirmed the fact: the streets had been completely massacred, and bodies lay slain and staggered about. Gathering courage, he stepped off the porch into the open grave before him. Moving through the mass carnage, Kohaku forced himself to look around. It was difficult to tell exactly how long it had been since the attack had occurred, but he felt that whoever had done it was no longer present.

Continuing through the village, his eyes watchfully shifted from side to side, almost causing him to trip over the body of a man lying in the middle of the street. Startled, Kohaku halted before the figure in his path. The cause of the man's death was apparent as he lay in dirt muddied by his own blood. Kohaku examined him; the man's left arm had been severed away from his torso. The cut was not clean, causing the flesh to be torn and ragged and the bone splintered. Unable to stand the sight of it, Kohaku cringed, turning his eyes away in grief. It was not the work of a sword, which told Kohaku that it was unlikely that a human had killed this man. He looked down again at the corpse, this time careful to avoid the sight of the mortal wound, and noticed the gleaming blade of a sickle lying on the ground near the victim's stiff hand. It looked like the villager had dropped it when he had fallen to the ground. Kohaku squatted down and picked the abandoned weapon up and secured it under a strap on his armor; perhaps he would need it.

Rising to stand again, his attention was captured by movement coming from the body of another fallen villager only a few feet away. Kohaku's eyes darted to the man's face, and he saw that his eyes were open.

"Hey! Hey!" the man called hoarsely, lifting his head off the ground.

Hurrying over, Kohaku dropped to the villager's side. "What happened here? Who attacked you?" Kohaku asked frantically.

The man's gaze was dazed and glassy as stared up at Kohaku, but he managed to reach up and grasp a fold in the boy's clothing. The man had been badly beaten, and his face and chest were marked with large gashes. "It… It took the crystal," he rasped, as his body began to quiver.

"Huh? What crystal? What was 'it'?" Kohaku questioned leaning closer to the villager. But it was too late; the man's soul had already drifted from his body.

:::

Notes: This is a story that I started quite a while ago and never had time to finish, although I have kept the ideas for where I wanted it to go in my mind ever since. Finally, I again have to time to work on it, and I still wanted to share it :) It is really a "What if...?" fic inspired by the more ambiguous closing of the original Inuyasha series before "The Final Act" episodes and does not deal with the Naraku/Infant story line.

Rather, we begin our tale here 6 years (instead of 3) after Kagome initially shattered the Shikon Jewel...