10. Contact

When Sesshoumaru opened his eyes, he found that Inuyasha had disappeared, having left on the pelt that had kept him warm only a faint reminder that he had been present mere hours earlier. There was nothing in the vicinity indicating there had been a disturbance, and Ah-Un remained sound asleep, its rumbling causing soft tremors to travel through the ground. Rising slowly, Sesshoumaru tested the air, cracking the joints of his fingers as he did so.

Witchcraft.

He could detect residual traces of magic in the air now—their foe had been clever in cloaking their aura, though their oversight lay in underestimating his superior senses. The fool who had dared to use foul play in his presence must be seeking their own end.

"Ah-Un," Sesshoumaru commanded, his tone tight and rumbling with a note of displeasure. The dragon demon roused from slumber immediately, stance on guard and ears perked, yellow eyes surveying its surroundings. Their liege rarely used this tone with them, and it was one that put them on edge. Ah-Un grumbled, making its way to the demon lord with heads leveled and eyes wary. Ah snorted and whined inquisitively, head bobbing alongside Un.

It was as he suspected, Sesshoumaru thought as his hand glided over the scales of his dragon. Ah-Un had been enchanted by dark magic. His lips curled in distaste. Toguro. It could be no other. He could see now that Toguro truly would stop at nothing to seek his vengeance. Dark, ancient magic was not to be trifled with, no matter how desperate a demon may be. To use it meant that Toguro's soul had already been tainted by it.

This may prove to be more troublesome than he had anticipated.

The demon lord's eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on the remaining hints of magic on his dragon, the muted scent of a crisp, charged current teasing his nose as if taunting him. Ah-Un followed as Sesshoumaru strode into the forest in the same direction Inuyasha had wandered. The dragon's posture was apprehensive as they moved further into the woodland, their nostrils unwittingly releasing puffs of air as uneasy whines threatened to escape their throats. Sesshoumaru ventured ahead undaunted, ignorant of Ah-Un's restlessness. His mind was filled only with unpleasant images of Inuyasha struggling in Toguro's grasp, unable to break away, powerless in his human form. And those eyes—those violet eyes wide with despair, praying for salvation.

It was happening again, this repetition of his failure.

Sesshoumaru's hand clenched, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He would not ask for forgiveness this time.

He no longer had the right.

Inuyasha was kneeling on the ground, frame shivering and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. His clothes, saturated with perspiration, were plastered to his back. The figure in white was behind him, its slender frame seated on a thin blanket of leaves, one hand placed atop his head. Its lips moved quickly as it murmured words of an incantation, the spell slowly weaving itself into the hanyou turned human.

"Please," Inuyasha choked out, sobbing. "Please," he said once more, helpless in his paralyzed state. Try as he might, he could not lift a single finger, could not even turn his head to look at the face of his assailant.

"You must not resist it," the figure scolded, lips turned down in a slight frown. "It will be more difficult if you do."

"Why are you doing this?" Inuyasha managed between gasps of pain. There was a terrible throbbing in his skull, like a small hammer steadily chipping away in his head. Images upon images flooded his mind, only to disappear into the dark void occupying a deep corner of his subconscious. He bit down hard on his lip as the pounding intensified, drawing blood, the metallic taste of it seeping into his mouth.

"Be at ease, my boy, I am simply trying to help."

"Who—?" Inuyasha was cut short by his own scream of pain, his breaths becoming desperate pants, before his eyes finally rolled back to his head and he knew no more.

"Move your behinds, you mangy mutts!" The wolf demon smirked, speeding ahead of his pack, ponytail flying in the wind.

"Wait for us, Kouga!" Ginta shouted, with Hakkaku running beside him.

The trio was out on their daily chase again, what Kouga so fondly called 'training'. Though if Ginta were to be frank, he would say it felt more like they were ducklings hopelessly trailing after their mother with the way they were running. Their leader's speed was unmatched, even without the Shikon shards in his possession. It was just about impossible for them to keep pace with him.

Ginta and Hakkaku nodded at each other before swinging their arms with greater force, pushing their thighs to propel them forward. They were so focused on catching up with their leader that they nearly collided with his back when he abruptly came to a stop in their path and raised a palm to halt their advance. The two tribe members fell to the ground on all fours almost gratefully, wheezing as they looked at their leader questioningly.

Kouga's stance was alert, his body upright and tail slightly raised. His keen eyes scanned the area and his nose was pointed upward, sniffing the air. This scent...now where have I smelled this before? But there was another scent, the odor of something dangerous. Whoops, time to retreat.

"Boys, that's enough fun for today. Let's go home," Kouga said, already turning back and moving in the direction they had come from.

"Hold on, doesn't something smell familiar?" Hakkaku sniffed earnestly, moving Ginta to do the same.

"Yeah, it sure does," Ginta nodded in agreement, taking in a particularly strong whiff as he did so.

"Whatever it is, I don't like it. Let's go," Kouga repeated, mood becoming impatient.

Before they could leave, however, a piercing scream broke the unnatural silence around them and echoed in the forest just meters in front of them. The three glanced at each other warily.

"Do you think we should help?" Ginta asked, despite the shaking of his legs.

Kouga gaped at them for a lengthy amount of time, speechless. Had these two lost their sense of self preservation during these peaceful times? The three remained rooted to their spots, no one making the next move. Kouga slowly exhaled in resignation. Well, it couldn't be helped, he was quite curious himself.

"Alright, you two stay behind me. And don't either of you dare make a move without my permission, got it?" Kouga grunted. Whoever you are, you better be damn grateful.

Kouga walked onward cautiously, ready to bolt at the first sign of them being in over their heads. His tail twitched restlessly, betraying his uncertainty at the situation. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary so far—the sounds and smells of the forest had always been a constant in his life, and his intuition had yet to urge him to fall back. Even so, it was unlike him to be interested in the predicament of others. Perhaps he himself had grown soft with the passage of time.

As a clearing in the forest came into view, Kouga gestured for Ginta and Hakkaku to remain at a distance before continuing to inch forward, his steps light and soundless. He had always been told that he was light on his feet. He lifted one hand to massage the knots in his neck, movements relaxed and self-assured.

Then he saw it. The creature.

What the hell is that thing?

Kouga staggered back, his right foot catching a twig in the process, the delicate crack of it a dead giveaway of his proximity.

The creature turned, its inky, beady eyes pinpointing him. His ears rang with the accelerated thumping of his own heartbeat, the pounding a strange sensation in his chest.

Run.

Save yourself.

If this had been any other day, he probably would have obeyed his primal instinct, would have prioritized his own safety above all else, apart from the well-being of his comrades.

Except he had seen the motionless human lying on the ground, their ebony hair reminding him so much of Kagome's. His Kagome. The woman he would always love, but could never see again.

Suddenly, that old feeling of yearning returned, the intensity of it powerful enough to overcome his initial panic. And if he needed an excuse to rationalize his brief lapse in judgment, well, maybe lately he had been itching for some action. It had been a very long time since his last fight, after all. He grinned, cracking his knuckles, and positioned his body into a low crouch.

The creature was still staring at him, having seemingly forgotten its prey. Appearing to realize that the wolf demon was not going to simply take his leave, its eyes became slits, and a wide, sinister smile stretched its ghastly skin. "Best be on your way, pup," its coarse voice raked against his eardrums, not quite speech like, as though the words had been conveyed through his mind.

Kouga's eyes narrowed. Pup? Remarkably, he opted not to waste precious minutes exchanging insults with the thing, instead choosing to rush towards the abomination in a zigzag course. From his peripheral vision, he noticed Ginta and Hakkaku were flanking him and knew that their determined expressions were a camouflage of their false bravado.

The creature quickly seemed to recognize that it may be outmaneuvered, and leapt clear of their path just as they were closing in.

"No matter, my work here is done," it crowed. Its eyes slid to Kouga one more time to fix him with a beady stare. "I'll be seeing you, pup," it cackled, bounding far out of their reach in a single motion. The three stopped and exchanged looks with each other, quietly relieved that they had avoided confrontation by a hair. Suddenly recalling that there was still a human that they had to take care of, Kouga swiftly moved to squat beside the immobile body. The human did not stir. Was it too late? Was the human already dead?

Then he heard it—the pulse of a heartbeat. It was weak, but it was there. Just unconscious, then. The human's ebony hair had formed a curtain over their face, concealing it from view, and the clothes they wore had become tattered rags of dirty red. He breathed in their scent, catching hints of sandalwood and rainwater, clean and pure, free of malignity. He couldn't place it, but he felt he knew this human. Tentatively brushing their hair back, he scrutinized the pale face, from the shut eyelids to the marginally parted lips, chapped and stained with blood. The smooth, unblemished skin that somehow struck him as if a tan would better suit it. In that instant, Kouga's eyes widened almost comically. Oh. Oh.

Holy shit.

"Mutt face?"