Wow. My first oneshot/songfic in quite a while O.o

Newayz, I had this half-finished for several months and decided to finish it last night. Took my like...four hours. O.O All my oneshots take a freakishly long time to write. Anyway, basically about how hard Kohaku has it, trying to live up the great slayers his father and sister are, but he's too timid to be really good at it. Everyone has had a moment where they want to make their parents oroud by oing something THEY want, not you, right?

Well...this is Kohaku's moment.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the "plot." The song (Numb - Linkin Park) and characters (Sango, Naraku, the demon spider, Kohaku, and their father - Rumiko Takahashi) beong to their respective owners.

"Try again, Kohaku."

His voice was cold and harsh, like it usually was during training. He winced at the sharp tone, as though he were unhappy with his progression. In a way he probably was. Kohaku was too clumsy, too timid. Nothing compared to his older sister. He was actually glad that she had been called away on a mission and wasn't there to watch his miserable failures.

"Y-Yes, Father," he stammered in response and pulled his chain-sickle back towards him by the long clattering chain. Holding the scythe in his trembling hands, he braced his legs and prepared to throw the weapon at the clay bowl targets set up before him. There was a single clay bowl set upon several short wooden posts. His father wanted him to slice the tops off all the bowls with a single swipe of his scythe.

But how could he do that when he can barely aim?

This fact was one of the many reasons his father was often hard on him. He always wanted Kohaku to get better—faster, stronger, but…he was such a small boy, a timid boy. Sango had been blessed with bravery and strength—why not him? What did he do to deserve such a frail life and spirit?

Swallowing nervously, Kohaku prayed he'd finally hit the target and threw the weapon. But he'd hesitated a split second too long and the chain-sickle lurched form his fingers and slipped from his fingers. The scythe flew through the air, dragging along behind it the rattling chains. Kohaku frantically grasped at the sliding chains and tried to jerk it back but the metal burned at his hands and he yelped, drawing back.

The scythe impaled itself in the nearest wooden post with a loud thunk. The chains snapped forward, clattering against the wood before dropping back onto the grass.

Kohaku avoided his father's gaze shamefully.

For a while he felt his father's disappointed eyes on him, and then: "Try again."

This time he didn't say his name.

Not bothering to respond, Kohaku nodded feebly and gathered up his weapon yet again.

/I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
I don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes/

Again Kohaku braced his legs and took careful aim. He couldn't mess up again—he couldn't. Time after time their training sessions would end in failure and his father would walk away, shaking his head in disappointment while Sango tried to comfort him.

That was all he was.

A disappointment.

It frustrated him that he couldn't balance properly. Nor was he fast enough, strong enough, quick enough—he wasn't anything! Nothing but a failure! What frustrated him even more was the fact that he never even wanted to be a demon slayer. That was what his father wanted. Sango got to choose to train as a slayer—and a damn good one she was, too. But he hadn't. His father had forced him to train as one.

It wasn't fair.

Sango got to choose.

Why couldn't he?

The answer was simple. He was his father's—the headman of the village—only son. And of course he wanted him (Kohaku) to follow in his footsteps, whether Kohaku wanted to or not. And his father was in for a hell of a disappointment. The first training session he'd encouraged Kohaku, but after the next few sessions he didn't bother hiding his dismay. He eventually became cold and hard, while Sango—who had already been encouraging him—took over the job of encouragement that their father had abandoned.

She was a good sister, but he knew he could never be as great a slayer as she. Not with his coordination. His skills sucked. No. He had no skills. Despite what his sister said (Sango was always telling him that he'd get better in time) he knew—he just knew—he'd never get better.

Still, with a deep breath Kohaku readied the scythe in his hand and threw it. This time, thankfully, the sickle didn't slip from his hand. It did however miss the target by mere inches and instead smashed against the second clay bowl, shattering it upon impact. The impact of the blow knocked the chain-sickle back. Kohaku instinctively reached out and grabbed at his weapon as it was hurled back to him. He felt it hit against his hand but closed his fingers around it a little too late and the blade slit open a long wound running down his fingers.

With a cry of pain Kohaku lurched back and the sickle fell from his hand and onto the grass with a trickle of blood following.

He heard his father sigh behind him. "All right, Kohaku. Training's over. Go get that wound bandaged." Kohaku heard the sliding door open and then shut with a sharp thump. Feeling a stab of pain, he looked blankly at the wide wound in his hand. He stared silently at the blood dripping between his fingers and trailing to the ground. His sister's voice in his ears startled him.

/(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)/

"Father too rough today?"

"He's always too rough," Kohaku muttered bitterly.

"He just wants you to become a strong slayer, Kohaku," Sango pointed out.

"I know, but he puts too much pressure on me." Kohaku spun around and glared at his sister. "He wants me to be as good as you!"

"What?" She seemed taken aback. "What do you mean? I'm still a beginner slayer!"

"But you're one of the few female slayers!" Kohaku argued. "Your skills exceed even that of the young male slayers with more training."

"What? No!"

"Yes!" Kohaku sighed and turned away. "I'm sorry, sister. I've just had a hard time today. As he bent to retrieve his fallen weapon, he added bitterly, "Father's always comparing me to you. He's always telling me that if I want to be as great as you then I have to try harder!" Standing up, he continued, "Well, I am trying. But I'm just not cut out to be a slayer! I don't even want to be a slayer! It wasn't my choice—it was his!"

"Oh, Kohaku…," Sango said, gently patting his back. "Don't take father too seriously. He's always been like that."

"Not when you were training."

Sango sighed. "Listen Kohaku, if you're not going to believe in yourself, then there's nothing I can do to help."

Kohaku remained silent and eventually Sango left to tell father of her mission.

And Kohaku was alone again.

His father awoke him yet again for training—how fun. Wearily Kohaku dressed in his slayer's uniform, readying himself for another brutal session.

Outside he put up his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun's blinding morning rays. The sky had a grayish tinge to it, and Kohaku prayed silently that it would clear up eventually. Then darkly he added to himself, Like anyone ever listens to me. Sango was waiting just outside as well, in her kimono rather than her slayer's outfit with Kirara in her lap.

Great. Just great. Now Sister can watch what a big failure I am. Just great.

Father, meanwhile, was in his slayer's outfit with his sword at his hip. Kohaku swallowed nervously. Why did he have such a bad feeling about this? As he came up to his father he tightened his grip on the hilt of his chain-sickle until his knuckles turned white. His father regarded him with expressionless eyes and a blank face. Finally he said, "Kohaku, I'd like to see how well your swordsmanship skills are coming along." As he said this he grasped the hilt of his sword in one hand and unsheathed the long, narrow blade.

Kohaku felt somewhat dizzy as his father held up the long weapon and nonchalantly pointed the tip at Kohaku. He twisted the sword around in his hands, shifting positions and sending glares of sunlight reflecting off the metal into Kohaku's eyes and face at different angles. The tip pointed away for him and sent a dazzling ray of golden light into his left eye; the sword tipped downward and another glare of light flashed up at him.

Kohaku began to feel a little dizzy. He wavered in place, and took in deep breaths to steady himself. Sango was seemingly the only one to notice, but when she moved to comfort him, their father cast her a dark warning look that Kohaku missed and she hesitantly sat back down as Kirara mewed softly in concern.

/I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and less like you/

"Kohaku…Kohaku!" his father barked loudly, jarring the young boy from his dizzy spell.

Kohaku blinked and slowly turned his eyes up towards his father. He jumped back when he found the tip of the sword inches from his face.

"Kohaku, you must pay closer attention!" his father snapped crossly.

"Sorry…," he mumbled,

The sword fell away from him and Kohaku could breathe easily. Ha, yeah right. He can never breathe easy during training.

His father sighed. "Well, anyway, today for training I want you to disarm me." Kohaku's eyes widened. His father was a skilled slayer! How could he disarm him if he didn't even have coordination? As if reading his thoughts, his father continued, "You have a chain-sickle, a sword, and a weighted chain; I have a sword. Use that to your advantage."

Kohaku nodded and swallowed anxiously yet again. He shifted his gaze towards Sango pleadingly again, and she averted her eyes. When he turned back his father was charging at him with the sword speeding towards him in a silver blur. Kohaku only just managed to unsheathe his sword and hold it up, successfully blocking the blade coming down at him.

But his father persisted, forcing his sword against Kohaku's, and Kohaku was eventually forced to give one last shove before ducking out of the way. He hit the grassy earth hard on his shoulder and looked up in time to see his father's weapon slam against the ground.

"Nice dodge, Kohaku!" Sango praised. "Don't you think, father?"

Their father grunted in response.

Kohaku had to roll out of the way to avoid the next swing. Breathing heavily, he jumped back to his feet and threw up his sword again. There was a sharp clang as the two silver weapons hit and connected. With both slayers forcing their weight onto the swords in an effort to toss the other's sword away, the pressure rocketed skyward and a crack appeared in the center of Kohaku's sword.

Stifling a gasp of surprise, Kohaku released the sword's hilt with one hand and instantly felt himself be pushed back. Gritting his teeth his hand went to his waist near the sword's sheathe where he'd tucked his chain-sickle. He managed to wrap his fingers around the hilt and bring it up to replace his sword just as it cracked and snapped in half. Allowing the ruined weapon to fall from his hands, Kohaku grasped the chain-sickle in both hands and tried to hold off his father's attack.

Sadly, his father was way too strong and Kohaku ducked down and wrenched his scythe away as his father slashed the weapon in a sideways swing. He scrambled away and staggered to his feet some yards away. Panting, he stared at his father, willing him to charge again.

No such luck.

He merely stared at his son, curious to see what his next move would be.

Again, Kohaku gritted his teeth and reached for his weighted chain. His father saw and held his sword up defensively. Kohaku tossed the weighted end of the chain into the air, twirled it a little clumsily for a few moments and then snapped his wrist forward and threw the chain, allowing his fingers to open slightly. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the chains slid past the skin of his palm and the chain hurtled towards his father. The weight slung over the sword and began to wrap the chain around the metallic blade repeatedly.

Kohaku yanked at the chain and stretched it taught. His father kept his grip on the weapon and for an instant they stood there, frozen in time. Then Kohaku pulled at the chain and the sword lurched forward at first. Kohaku's tensed, stiffened legs relaxed slightly and then his father wrenched the sword back, taking Kohaku with it.

Kohaku, startled by the sudden tug, stumbled forward and felt the chains burn and rub his hands raw. With a cry of pain he released the chains as the burning against his hands intensified. He was thrown against the ground and he sprawled out painfully. He lay there, unmoving and in pain until he's father's shadow flickered across him.

"You were doing so well, Kohaku," his father sighed. "So well…and then what? Why did you suddenly get over confident?" Not even waiting for a response he spun around and made his way back to the house.

Kohaku lay there as dust settled around him, clinging to his sweaty skin. Then he felt Sango's presence and he closed his eyes. He felt so ashamed.

"You really did well today, Kohaku."

"Father didn't think so."

"Father expects only the best from us."

"That doesn't mean he's going to get it."

Sango sighed. She extended her hand and helped him up. "You shouldn't have relaxed the way you did when you had the chain around the sword. You should have tensed even more, if anything. Just remember that next time, okay?"

"Yes, Sango."

"Good. Now go get yourself cleaned off and bandage those burns on your hand."

"Yes, sister…"

/Can't you see that you're smothering me?
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control
`Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you/

Kohaku sat outside the home he shared with his father and sister, still in his slayer's outfit, staring at his hands. He'd bandaged them some time ago after rinsing them in cool water to ease the throbbing. Sango had helped him tie the thin strips of cloth to keep them in place. Ever since then he'd been sitting out here…waiting…for what?

He sighed unhappily and tossed let his hand fall to the ground. His fingers brushed the small tufts of grass and passed over a patch of dirt. He felt part of a smooth stone half-buried in the ground, and dug away the soil around it. Eventually he scraped away enough earth to remove the stone. When he did, he held it up and saw that only the part that had been above soil was smooth; the bottom and edges were rough and cracked.

With another small sigh he tossed the stone away. It clattered to a stop a few yards away, hidden among a tangle of tall weeds near the training posts, which still had the clay bowls mounted on top. The stone landed with a muffled thump and sent two small blue-gray birds twittering in annoyance into the sky. They circled above the treetops several times before slowly dipping out of sight.

He was started by the sudden feel of soft fur against his hand. When he looked down he only saw Kirara though, her creamy, black-striped tails twitching back and forth. She mewed a warm greeting and purred as he scratched the fur behind her ears. Again she meowed cheerily and her tails began to lash faster.

He was jarred from his short-lived moment of peace by Sango's voice, however. At first he couldn't understand what she was saying. But after seeing that he hadn't heard she repeated herself. "Kohaku, it's time to come in. The sun is setting. Come inside and eat."

"Yes, sister," he called back in a feeble mumble. His expression suddenly taking on a blank expression, and his dark eyes void of emotion, he stood up and slid open the rice paper door. Kirara's ears perked up and she mewed, as if confused as to why he'd stopped petting her. "Sorry Kirara," he muttered. "But it's time to go in." Kirara seemed to droop when he said this, as if aware of how he felt, which she probably was.

Inside Sango and Father were already seated, waiting patiently as he came in and sat opposite of their father. He looked up as Kohaku sat down, his expression disapproving. He must not think it is appropriate that I am wearing my slayer's outfit to dinner, Kohaku thought. Not that I really care. Keeping his head tilted down and eyes lowered, he picked up his bowl of rice and took his chopsticks between two fingers. And so, in complete silence, they proceeded to eat.

After a few minutes of silence, it was abruptly broken by the sound of Kirara's tiny, shuffling black paws as she slipped through the sliding door, which Kohaku hadn't completely closed. She came padding up to Kohaku, her paw steps making only the slightest scuffling sound. She mewed to him, but when he didn't respond, Kirara nuzzled his arm and then turned away from him and went up to Sango instead.

Without so much as even glancing at Kohaku, their father said sternly, "You forgot to close the door, Kohaku. You know better."

"Well…sorry," Kohaku snapped rather coldly.

"Do you want every little vermin in the village to infest our home?"

"…"

"Well?"

"No."

"Then close it. Now."

Glaring sullenly at no one in particular, Kohaku stood, allowing his barley eaten rice to fall to floor harshly. He stormed up to the sliding rice paper door and gripping it tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, then slammed it with enough ferocity to send a ringing thumping sound to fill the room and cause the walls to vibrate.

Still without so much as glancing away from his meal, their father said, "Don't slam it, Kohaku. You'll ruin the house."

Trembling with fury, Kohaku replied icily, "May I be excused? I'd like to get some sleep."

"Fine. But I don't want you sneaking back for food when you're starving later in the night."

Without another word Kohaku turned away curtly and disappeared into his bedroom. With a small twinge of hesitation, Kirara darted after him, but was met by a loud thunk as the rice paper door slammed just as she pushed her nose in. Kirara jerked back, unharmed yet startled.

/(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take/

Kohaku sat heavily on his futon, eyelids heavy from stress and exhaustion. He heard small scratching just outside his room, most likely Kirara asking to be let in. But he just let her scratch until the sound faded away and he heard her pad away.

Through a small square section that had been cut into his wall to let in fresh air and light, covered by a large cloth, he noticed the reddish-amber glow of the setting sun fade and soon, what little light remaining fled his room, plunging him into darkness. A tiny silver sliver of faint, shimmering moonlight slipped in, but not much.

Finally, as the skies outside grew darker and darker still, he lay back on his futon and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. Eventually it did, but it was a light, unpleasant sleep. He was plagued by torturous images of all his failed practice sessions, and tormented by flashing images of his father, disappointed, as a trail of words, heavily laced with dismay, filled his ears. Throughout the short time he slept he thrashed and kicked, groaning, until he finally sat bolt upright, beads of sweat collecting on his face. Breathing hard, he decided some fresh night air would soothe him.

But he didn't want to risk awakening his father by leaving the house, so instead he went to the small square cut in his wall and pushed aside the cloth. A blast of icy air rushed against his face almost instantly. Immediately it dried away the sweat and filled him with relaxation.

Quite suddenly he was aware of voices from outside: Sango's and Father's. He allowed all but a small corner of the cloth to cover the square and peered out. He could only just see Father and Sango just almost around the corner of the house. Kirara paced restlessly at their feet, fur bristling. He was about to pull away when he heard Sango mention his name.

Stiffening, he pinched the cloth tightly between his fingertips. He barely breathed as he waited to hear what they were saying.

"Sango…I know you worry about Kohaku, but he has to learn."

"Yes…but I think you're pushing him a little too hard."

"Nonsense. I was just as hard while I trained you."

"But I learned quickly. Kohaku is different. He is much more sensitive than I. I think your training methods are a little too harsh for him."

"Nonsense!" Father protested loudly.

"Shh! You'll wake him!" Sango chided.

But sister…I am already awake…

"Anyway, perhaps they are so harsh to you, because you are an experienced slayer. Kohaku is still young and clumsy. He needs to build his coordination and confidence. But he can't."

"And why not?" their Father demanded gruffly.

"Because he can never please you. Nothing is good enough for you, Father. Everything must be perfect."

"What?"

"You heard me. Poor Kohaku feels as if he can never make you proud."

"And just why hasn't he told me any of this?"

"Because you don't understand."

"Wh…why of course I would!"

"Father," Sango began as evenly as possible. "No. You wouldn't. You are too rough with him. You never encourage him. It's always 'Do this, do that not that, this…more speed, more strength…more balance…perfect your stance…' Father…he's just a child. He's trying."

"No. He's not trying."

"He is. You just can't see it because you want perfection. And perhaps it would help his confidence if you actually encourage him rather than point out his mistakes."

For a long moment their Father was silent, and then he said, "Kohaku does not need constant praise. That will just ruin him. Too much confidence is bad."

"Constant praise?!" Sango nearly screeched. "You never praise him!"

"But you do."

"He doesn't want me to praise him. He wants you to praise him." There was another stretch of silence, but this time Sango didn't wait. Instead she stood and he heard the sliding door open and then close, followed by distant footsteps as she returned to her room. Another moment later and their father went inside as well.

Only Kirara lingered. She took a hesitant step forward when Father called her, but glanced over her shoulder, eyes sorrowful as she gazed at Kohaku. He didn't know whether or not she could see him, but he knew she knew he was there. And the look in her large red eyes was almost apologetic, as if apologizing for what he had heard. Finally though she trotted back inside at Father's second call, which was much louder and stiffer.

Kohaku quickly dropped the cloth and darted back to his futon when he heard his father's footsteps approaching. He yanked the covers over him and evened his breaths, trying to make it appear as if he'd been asleep the whole time. His sliding rice paper door slid open slightly, with only a small rustle, and he felt his father's presence, and felt his cold eyes boring into him.

"Kohaku?" he whispered, sounding almost hopeful that he was awake. Kohaku bit his tongue to keep from answering and remained as still as possible. When he didn't say anything his father sighed in disappointment and the sliding rice paper door slid shut. When his footsteps finally faded, Kohaku let out the breath he'd been holding without realizing it in a sigh of sorrow.

/I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you/

The next morning Kohaku, who hadn't been able to sleep for even a moment since hearing his sister's and father's conversation the previous night, was "awakened" by Sango. She called to him from the outside the thin paper door, asking him to awaken. She also mentioned something about important news from Father. Kohaku waited a little bit before answering; trying to make it appear he'd been asleep, and told her he'd be out in a moment. She added for him to change into his slayer's outfit before her footsteps moved away from his room.

Outside, dressed in his slayer's outfit and carrying his weapons—except for his sword—he found Sango and Father waiting for him near the training posts. Kohaku glanced emotionlessly from Sango to Father. Sango smiled encouragingly, but Father just avoided his gaze. "So…what is it that's so important?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Um…Father? Would you like to tell him?"

"You are going on your first mission, Kohaku."

Kohaku's heart skipped a beat. "Wh…what?" he stammered.

"You heard. You are eleven years of age, now, and it is time you took your first mission."

Kohaku felt like arguing, but knew it wouldn't do any good. "Yes, Father," he replied weakly…defeated.

"The Lord of a nearby palace has sent message of a monstrous demon spider terrorizing his palace. He wishes that I bring my strongest warriors to go and destroy the demon."

"Your 'strongest warriors'?" Kohaku echoed.

"Yes."

"Then why am I going?"

"Do not try to worm your way out of this, Kohaku. This will be good experience for you. You are going—and that is final."

Yes, Father," Kohaku repeated, but didn't bother to keep his disgust from leaking into his voice.

"Good," Father went on, seemingly ignoring Kohaku's tone. "We will leave as soon as the other slayers are prepared.

Kohaku nodded numbly as his father walked away with long, tense strides. He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped several feet into the air. However it was just Sango. The news of this mission had terrified him, though… "Oh, sorry Kohaku," Sango apologized. "But…here. It's a new sword to replace the broken one. I got it in the village this morning."

Kohaku slowly took the finely crafted blade from his sister. "Thanks, Sango. But it won't make a difference. My existence is just one huge disappointment."

/And I know I may end up failing too
But I know you were just like me
With someone disappointed in you/

They arrived at the castle late at night, when it was shrouded by thick blackness that seemed to stretch forever. Kohaku couldn't shake away the bad feeling he'd had all day. He was nervous and anxious. Every little sound set him off. He and Sango were crouched respectively, spread out in front of the castle Lord with their Father up front.

He heard the Lord question Father's choice in warriors—namely a female, Sango, and young child, Kohaku—but Father assured them they were all well trained and capable.

"Father…you liar," Kohaku muttered under his breath as their father told the Lord that he and Sango were one of the top slayers. Lies! Sango was strong, but not he.

Sudden a dark, dreadful aura filled the air, bringing with it a tight sense of dread. Kohaku sucked in a breath, suddenly cold. He and the other slayers looked around.

A massive spider with curved out fangs and huge, wild, wicked eyes appeared in the sky above them, descending slowly but with confidence. It let out a rattling hiss and it lowered its legs down to brace itself. Leaning its full weight on its eight long, hairy dark gray legs, the spider let out another raspy breath and hissed shrilly.

Their father stood, as did the other warriors, and motioned for them to begin the attack. They were well organized and the strategy planned out to perfection. The only problem was Kohaku, with his clumsy hesitation and growing fear.

Almost immediately Kohaku nearly freaked out as the demon spider sent out a tangled mouthful of thick white, sticky strands of spider wed, tangled together. He tried to dodge by a clump of it snatched at his leg and pulled him back. He thrashed wildly, his fear overcoming him and sending him into panic. He holed in horror until a fellow slayer approached him and tore away the webbing from his leg with a clean blow from his own weapon.

Panting heavily, Kohaku looked up to thank him. The slayer nodded and said, "Just stay calm, Kohaku." Kohaku nodded rapidly, trying to slow his beating heart.

Quite suddenly the spider whirled away from them, eyes wide as Hiraikotsu—his sister's weapon, a giant boomerang—sliced through the air and hacked up its back. A long, neat, gory pinkish wound was torn into the spider's back. It screeched loudly and fell limp as its legs buckled. Another slayer heaved his weapon up and bashed its legs. The spider collapsed fully onto its belly and slayer's gathered around as it died painfully. They examined its massive bone-like fangs and decided to take some of it home to construct weapons from it.

The only one not joining in was Sango. She had a worried expression on her face, as if this had been too easy…which is had…

Kohaku felt a tingling sensation in the back of his neck and then sudden blackness…

/I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you/

Sango's POV

This is too easy…way too easy…, Sango thought to herself. She hesitated then started to move forward when a flash of silver caught her eye. A moment later a comrade's head went rolling across the ground as blood sprayed the air. Sango gasped, but before she could full comprehend what was going on there were several more flashed of silver. More blood stained the air, tainting it and filling it with the disgustingly musty stench.

Several more heads went rolling as their comrades fell…one by one…

Where…?!

A blade suddenly sunk into her father's neck, and blood squirted from the wound. Father's eyes went glassy and rolled back into their sockets. He grunted and collapsed, his legs no longer supporting him.

The blade was yanked from his neck with a loud clinking of chains. Sango followed the sound and gaped. No…no…no!

Kohaku's POV

…

He groaned as his chain sickle flew from his hands and arched high through the air. It landed directly in its intended target: his sister's back. It sunk halfway in with a heavy thunk. Sango's steps faltered and slowed as her knees bent slightly. She lurched forward and then fell to the ground upon her knees.

She turned to look behind her slowly, looked back at Kohaku. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes misted with tears.

Kohaku trembled and fell to his own knees. Shaking furiously he looked down as his blood stained hands… "No…," he whispered. "Sister…what…what have I…" A shudder wracked his body and he pushed himself up. He tried to run to Sango when a barrage of thick spears sailed through the air…fired by the Lord's guards. They pierced his skin…his chest and stomach. He came to an abrupt halt and lurched, falling to his back. And lay limp.

Sango gaped and tried to stand, struggled… When she finally managed to, she took several small steps close to him when her legs gave out and she fell down once again. Still she refused to give up. She crawled slowly towards him, the pain all too clear on her face. She finally reached him and held out a hand to him.

"S…Sister…I'm scared…"

"I know," she answered feebly. "But it's going to be okay…Koha—" She was cut off as another barrage of spears arced through the air and the blades sunk neatly into her back. Sango half finished sentence ended with a moan of pain and then she lurched forward…falling…

/I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
I've become so numb I can't feel you there…/

As Sango fell unconscious, sure to die soon from the severity of her wounds, Kohaku let out a small, faint, weak sob. A tear rolled down his cheek as his eyes closed slowly, and his frail, wounded body shuddered with a final breath…

I'm tired of being what you want me to be…/