Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Chapter 11: The First Skirmish

The youkai examined the camp from his perch, his thoughts grim. He could envision many possibilities in what he would do next—and for the humans, the mostly likely outcomes involved death.

He examined the camp again. It was far too easy to make out details, with the lit fires. The miko was barely visible under an untidy heap of logs: his first reaction had been shock, until the view from different angles had revealed that the wood was not actually laying on her body. But, the wood was clearly booby-trapped, and he wondered, uneasily, if the traps were meant for him, or to kill her if it looked as if he might succeed in rescuing her. Was that a step that humans would take, to destroy if they couldn't keep possession?

A swirl of chilly youkai, and whiffs of ice and cat warned him. "Xue-sama," he murmured, not moving his eyes from a continued examination of the humans.

"Inu-sama," she replied, with a hint of sarcasm, which he interpreted as annoyance over his not having given her his name. Since he had no name to give, he ignored it. "You seem reluctant to attack."

"True enough," he replied. "I could slaughter the human men, but the miko would probably not approve. I have promised her my protection; to keep that promise, I need her trust. How is that trust kept, if she believes that I willingly killed people she knows and possibly cares for?"

"They've taken her captive—why should she care what happens to them?"

He sighed. "Why should she not? Humans..." he hesitated, groping for an explanation, to put into words what he knew, that he did not know how he knew. "She has lived with these people, maybe been friends, before she accepted the offer of my protection. Her—refusal to change her mind, when confronted, is what turned them against her. When we left, the miko was not angry, but very sad. It is … I think it is the way of at least some humans that even betrayal does not make them not care about another human's fate."

"Then, she is very stupid."

He shook his head. "She is not." He started to say something further, then changed his mind. Discussing human motivations was not something he wanted to do.

A motion caught his attention: the nekomata had swung her head in his direction, nostrils flaring as she caught his scent. "Time to move," he murmured. He skimmed through the branches and down to the ground at less than his full speed, fully aware of the potential foe behind his back. He finished a third of the way around the clearing, and well away from it. "Taijiya-sama," he pitched his voice to be easily heard, "You should reconsider your intent to fight me. You cannot defeat me."

"That's what you think," came the reply, edgy and angry. "We've killed stronger youkai than you."

"And just how do you know that you've seen everything I can do?"

"That goes both ways, youkai! Don't think those stink bombs that stopped you before are the best we have–not even close!"

"I have no intention of underestimating you for a second time, taijiya," said the youkai, projecting a sense of amusement in his voice.

"I do not understand why you are just flitting around and talking to them," muttered Xue, as she came up next to him—not approaching from behind, though it would have been a shorter route. "If you will not attack them, what do you plan to do?"

"Distract them, wear them down," he answered shortly, starting to move slowly through the trees, searching with his youkai senses for the ice imps that had to be around somewhere. "They won't have my stamina, and waiting may reveal an opening."

"I could help that along," she offered. "My imps can't approach too closely, but we could create an area of cold, slowly. Humans get sluggish and sleepy in the cold."

He considered the offer. "The nekomata would sense your attack. Even if she couldn't dispel your cold, she would probably warn the humans, and they might have a counter."

"So, we take her out," she said. "Aisumaru would love to have a rematch."

"After what I did to him, do you really think he has a chance?" he asked. "Expending an ally to little or no gain is scarcely wise."

He felt her flash of anger. "What concern is it of yours, what I do with my servants?"

"Nothing," he replied. "But, your ambitions to return to the mainland: how far will you get without reliable allies?"

"If I have the Shikon no Tama, I will need no allies."

"If you somehow obtained the Shikon no Tama, you would never make it back to the mainland," he retorted. "There are many stories of its power, but how many stories of anyone achieving and keeping their dream?"

She said nothing, a sullen, brittle breeze surrounding her. The youkai gave her a few moments to consider, and then changed the subject. "Distracting the nekomata is a good idea. Other than sending Aisumaru on a suicide attack; what would you suggest?"

… … …

Kirara paced just inside the perimeter of the camp, paws hurting with each step. Some of the taijiya poisons were fairly short-lived. The one they had used on the ground was not. She would have taken to the air and patrolled from there some time ago, but Iwao had ordered her down, and Tatsuo had added his plea. The human commander had said something about 'saving' her strength, which Kirara knew was stupid. But, she did not have words to argue, and Iwao had never learned her signals. She could have ignored him, but she had been part of too many battles. Ignoring Iwao's order would cause consternation, argument, and distraction. For the miko's sake, she would not cause that.

No matter how much it irked her feline soul.

A blast of icy air slammed into her side. Kirara whipped around to face the source, pain, and unhappiness forgotten as she snarled, ears flattening, hackles rising, youki fire flickering around the bottling hairs of her twin tails. Aisumaru! She recognized his frigid scent. They were opposites in nature and power, and had fought on more than once occasion, usually to a draw. This time, she realized as she drew in another breath, she knew she could take him. His youki was brittle and erratic. Something had happened to him. What, she didn't know, and it didn't matter. Growling, head lowered, tails whipping back and forth, she crouched, shifting her weight, preparing to launch herself at the spot where his youki was strongest.

"Kirara, no!" A slight weight flung itself against her, wrapping an arm around her neck. "It's a trap!" She felt Tatsuo's fingers digging into her fur. "Can't you feel it? There's a whole bunch of youkai around, including that guy who took Kikyou away. They want you to attack! Don't do it!"

"Yes, little kitty." Aisumaru's voice came from the shadows just slightly further away than a leap she could make without flying. "Do what your mortal masters say. Such a weak, sickly youkai, doing the bidding of those who should be your prey…"

Kirara snarled again, her crouch deepening, instincts burgeoning against the restraint of experience and the bonds of loyalty and affection. She was in pain, she was sick, she was angry, and her foe was vulnerable and so close, so close! Her hindquarters tightened, back claws driving out of their sheaths into the ground, preparing to leap—

"Don't!" Kirara's leap forestalled as Tatsuo jumped in front of her, hands grabbing for her ruff. "You-can't-go—arrgh!"

Her senses fuzzing with the poison seeping into her body, Kirara sensed the attack just a moment too late. Lunging sideways and forward, she used her head to toss the slightly-built human aside, but too late, as a stream of ice struck him in the middle of his back. She yowled, taking the last of the attack on her side, but too late, as Tatsuo's cry cut off, and as he landed limply, ice crackling as it raced over his body.

Kitten!

Kirara roared, primeval rage and blood lust swallowing caution and thought. Flames flared high, banishing any darkness that dared to linger. She leaped forward, fangs fully bared, her only thought to grapple and eviscerate her foe—

… … …

Iwao tightened his grip on his weapon as he mentally cursed. "Kenichi! Grab Tatsuo and get him between the fires!" His words were clipped as he watched the flaming nekomata bolt towards an unseen foe. "Mamoru, attack five! Wait for—"

Something ghostly flowed towards Kirara too fast for the human eye to make out details. Golden arcs, more intense than her flames, lashed out, and the youkai cat shrieked in agony and collapsed, her flames lasting just long enough to reveal a rapidly shrinking silhouette.

The taijiya cursed silently. "Mamoru, hold fire, unless you see a clear shot. The rest of you, hold your positions!"

While I try to come up with a plan, was his silent addendum, his jaws clenched as he tried to come up with a plan. He'd never approved of depending on youkai allies such as the nekomata: youkai were what they fought; it was foolish to depend on youkai: look how the cat had relied on instincts and sprang to attack, instead of waiting within the circle for the attack to come to her. But, he knew that—unreliable or not—the cat was a powerful fighter. Without the nekomata, he had only five taijiya he could really depend on. The boy was out, and the farmers might have courage, but little skill. And they were up against a clever, intelligent youkai of unknown strength.

There had to be a way to take him at disadvantage. There just had to be—

… … ...

The golden-eyed youkai stopped in the shadows, pulling back the last of the flickering glow around his claws. That, he thought, had been almost too easy. He had not really expected the nekomata to be that easily lured into pursuit. He didn't know her, but from the description Xue's son had given, and what little he had sensed from her aura, he thought she was a youkai of considerable experience, and freely associating with the humans.

"Yesss!" An exultant, chilly wind of a hiss behind him made the youkai turn. Without pause for thought, he leaped forward, as Aisumaru brought down a glimmering icicle two-thirds his height long down towards the helpless feline. The youkai lord snatched the spear of ice just beneath the Aisumaru's hands, wrenching up and sideways, pulling the slighter youkai off his feet completely before the ice youkai let go.

"No!" shrieked Aisumaru as he landed off balance. "She's mine!"

He tossed the spear away, hearing it snap and crack against a branch. "My prey," he said coldly, snatching up the limp, furry body with a single hand. Aisumaru yelled as his personal weapon—and part of his power, shattered into a dozen pieces. The nameless youkai shifted the limp cat into his left arm, right hand ready to defend or attack.

Aisumaru shook, his aura wavering as his weapon dissipated into mist. "She's mine," he insisted, pale eyes glittering in the dark. "She's killed my kind. Hates my kind. Hate her, kill her. Mistress said, she's mine."

Feeling his own temper flickering with irritation, the youkai flared his aura, causing the other to flinch. "If you two want to fight it out when you are both healed, fine," he said coldly. "But, until then, the nekomata is—"

The hiss of an arrow splitting the air was unmistakable. The youkai lunged forward, grabbing the ice youkai and throwing the smaller youkai before him. Too late, he heard the second hiss, and realized that the humans had taken advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration. They had predicted his reaction to the first arrow. He could increase his speed and dodge the second, but the stumbling Aisumaru could not.

Cold, selfish logic said to leave Aisumaru to his fate—a logic nearly all youkai would act on.

The nameless youkai did not know why he seemed to be an exception.

But, it displeased him to think that such a weaker foe would die because he had accidentally put him into a position to be killed by something else.

Not that there was time to clearly think through that. He had only time to act on habit and instinct, placing himself between the arrow and the stumbling Aisumaru, shifting to once again take a weapon on a forearm sheathed in the solid, youki-created armor of his own will.

The arrow slammed into his arm and exploded. Momentarily blinded, the youkai leapt sideways and back, feeling a dozen pricks of fire slash into his cheek, his ear, his shoulder, his upper arm, his torso. The stench of the explosion was worse than the discomfort of the burning remnants of the arrow clinging to various bits of his anatomy, but scarcely as debilitating as the scent balls of that morning.

But, for only a moment.

And then, the tiny flames flared, transforming from inconsequential bits of fire to searing tongues of red and gold, searing-hot flame. The youkai started, breath catching as pain abruptly burned his face and his shoulder, and with a flare of shock realized—the flames were consuming his youki!

Aisumaru screamed. The nameless youkai turned his head enough to see the ice youkai beating frantically at a shard of flame that had taken root on his shoulder. Youki flared around the beating hand, forming ice. With growing horror, the inu youkai saw fire catch in the ice itself.

And he could feel the multiple flames of fire expanding on his own person.

"Aisumaru! Inu-sama! Hold still—I'll send the imps and snow—"

"No!" Thoughts snapped into brutal clarity as he shouted. He whirled, knowing that one youkai was almost certainly doomed. "The fire feeds on youki!" His left hand, holding the limp, fortunately untouched nekomata whipped out in a flat, hard throw. "Catch her! Get out of arrow range!" Not looking to see whether Xue would catch the tiny Kirara, the inu youkai sprang forward, snatched the screaming Aisumaru by an arm and sprinted towards the nearest trickle of true water, relying only on the muscles in his legs, compressing his youki and ignoring the pain with all the strength of will that was within him...

... ... ...

A short, dying shriek of terror was accompanied by a silvery-white column of flames shooting above the treetops.

"You got him!"

"Shut up." Iwao's snarled command silenced the farmer before he could add to his yell. "We've won nothing—yet."

Silence fell, save for the gentle crackling of flames. Mamoru stood close to the edge of the poisoned circle, two more arrows in hand, their heads both wrapped in balls of the youki-burning clingfire the taijiya had created. Watching the shadowed patch from which the youkai had fled, Iwao acknowledged silently their debt to the unconscious miko. Bows were rarely used by taijiya, mostly because the ranged weapon gave most youkai too much time to avoid an arrow. But, Mamoru had practiced archery as a boy, and when Kikyo had learned that he had just enough of the spiritual gift to be able to see youkai auras, she had insisted on teaching him how to use his gift to guide his aim. And he would have to thank old Amaya as well, for she'd known to obtain some of the ingredients in the deadly mixture, and had willingly made several batches, despite the fact that the stuff could be almost as dangerous to humans as to youkai.

He still found it hard to believe that the youkai had let himself be that vulnerable. Mamaro's two-shot attack had been the only chance against a youkai with that kind of speed, but he should have been able to avoid both of the arrows...

"I don't think that was the big youkai," said Mamoru softly, barely loud enough to be heard by the leader.

"Agreed." Iwao shifted his weight. "The flames on him were red and gold. Can you still see his aura?"

"No. There's others in the area, but his … it just sort of—vanished. I could still see the flames, before he went down that slope, but it was as if he'd managed to shut it down." The tall, slender man was silent for several moments. "Could a youkai draw in his aura so much that the clingfire would stop burning?"

"Doubt it." Iwao flexed his hand holding the long shaft of his weapon. "The youkai's just making his death longer."

Or, so he needed to believe. A youkai couldn't survive being hit with clingfire. Clingfire burned anything with youki in it, until every bit of youki was consumed. And the youkai who had been hit by the arrow was unquestionably the one who had seduced the miko and turned her against her own kind. There was no mistaking that long, silver hair, and furred, two-tailed cloak. There was no mistaking that clingfire had struck him in multiple places, from head to thighs. He was a dead youkai walking, even as he dashed away, dragging the slighter youkai with him. He must have realized that the flames fed on his youki, and must be heading towards water, not knowing that not even water could put out that fire. Any moment, the growing flames must overcome the power and will that ultimately held the physical form together. Any moment, flames would overpower will, and then, in a single, explosive instant, consume that will, and that life-force in a tumultuous burst. It had to happen. It had never not happened, by all the lore and legend of his clan.

He tried not to think of the word 'yet.'

Iwao tightened his grip on his weapon for a moment, then forced himself to relax and concentrate on the moment. "Kenichi," he called out. "How's Tatsuo?"

"Um, I've wrapped him up in a couple of blankets, and put him close to the fire, but he's still shivering really bad."

"Give him some saki. Bottom of the red sack. Then start some water boiling for tea. Make enough for you, as well. And eat something. It's going to be a long night, even after that big youkai goes up."

If the youkai goes up.

Iwao slapped the doubt away, and continued to consider his options.

Author's Note: Real life has been hectic and stressful the last month or so, and I have to admit my writing is down. I hope I can get it back up—what I'd like to do is concentrate on the two major storylines—this one and Blood Unbound—and get at least one chapter posted for one of the other every week. Well, I'll try, anyway...