Part One

Chapter One:

Vision

Disclaimer: I Don’t Own InuYasha.

The pain began suddenly, robbing her of breath and driving her to her knees. Taking deep breaths, she embraced the pain, knowing it was her due for the gift she was receiving. As the pain turned excruciating consciousness was lost, sending the young woman into a temporary comatic slumber.

In her slumber the young woman was very much aware of her state of body. Having suffered this cursed blessing hundreds of times, she waited patiently for the Vision to reveal it’s self. As her surroundings began to blur and fade into blinding white, she kneeled and waited for the figure to appear to her.

As if on cue, HE appeared, seeming to have stepped out of nowhere. Tall and muscled, his features aristocratic perfection the Inu Youkai approached her slowly. Although they had met hundreds of time, she could never stop the feeling of being stalked. Feeling as though she was being hunted. He, the hunter, she the prey, but as always she shook off the absurd feeling and concentrated on the business at hand.

Looking up at the Youkai she studied him silently as she waited for permission to rise. He was very handsome indeed. Long dark hair swept up into a high ponytail, dark crimson tear drop upon his forehead matched the crimson stripes that graced his cheeks.

His perfect lips pulled back into a familiar smile. Her observation moved to his expensive black kimono, and crimson obi. Although there was no design or pattern on the expensive material, none could mistake its quality, made from the finest Youkai silk she had ever witnessed it clung to his muscular for in a delightful way.

And then there were his eyes, in complete contrast to his dark features, they were a blazing ice blue, piercing and direct, wisdom clear in those blue depths.

“You may rise, my dear, “he said in a deep baritone voice that sent chills down her spine.

She rose silently and waited.

“How have you fared?” he questioned softly.

Dropping into a graceful courtesy, she spoke.

“Very well, sir, thank you. May I inquire the same of you?” she asked respectfully.

Smiling softly he said, “You need not worry for my health, my dear, and well you know it. Although you cannot help but worry for all those you encounter I suppose. I am fine my Lady, as always.”

Lord Katzunami studied the beautiful young woman before him and felt his heart warm. Curly dark red hair flowed down her back in soft rippling waves, stopping at her hips, bright emerald eyes filled with warmth and compassion, studied him as intently as he her. Full red lips were drawn into her normal shy smile, pearl white skin as soft as silken sheets, extremely generous of breast that Katzunami had a hard time not letting his gaze wander to, small waist flared into curvy hips, although she was very petite she lacked nothing in curves, he ached to explore each and every part of her body, but knew it was forbidden.

He was but a messenger for the Kami’s.

Bringing his attention back to the business at hand, hating what he had to show her, but knowing it was his duty, he focused his energy upon their white surroundings, letting it spread until the white background became a dark wasteland.

Screams of horrifying anguish filled the silence, ungodly screams of pain that chilled her to the bone. Looking around she easily recognized the wasteland as her once beautiful home in Northern Japan, her glorious Northern territory turned into a hellacious battlefield. All around her, her people fought…..and died.

Horrible gruesome deaths.

Vicious beast like monsters tore them apart. These monsters were not Youkai, they were something else entirely. Rows and rows of sharp fangs lined there snarling mouths, spewing forth green gases that made her eyes burn, they stood on two legs with great big clawed hands that dripped of a toxic poison. The humans of her land easily fell prey to the beasts, while the Youkai slew many monsters they fell to ghost like creatures that latched onto the Youkai, sucking their strength from their very bodies, leaving their flesh to blacken.

“Within hours, their body will start to decay from the inside out.” Katzunami explained, “Within days they will die a long and painful death.”

She heard him but could not look away from the devastation before her. Tears glittered in her beautiful eyes, causing Katzunami a stab of regret.

Unable to understand how this could happen to her precious land and people she fell to her knees and sobbed. Wanting to pull her into his arms and comfort her but not trusting himself to touch her, he stood silently, waiting for her to compose herself.

Taking a few deep breaths she stood again, determination shinning in her eyes she demanded, “How do I stop it?”

Admiring her determination he nodded and explained, “That I cannot I say.”

Anger, burning hot red in her veins flared.

“How can you not?! My people will suffer and die if you do not! How can you be so cruel?!” she exploded.

Striving for calm, as he was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, he said softly,

“I am but relaying a message from the Kami’s. I can reveal only what I am commanded to reveal, this you know. Nothing less, nothing more.”

Bowing her head in shame, she tried to rein in her wayward emotions, knowing he spoke the truth. It had always been thus in her Visions, but never had her people been threaten in such a deadly and terrifying way.

“I apologize, my lord. You are correct. Please, continue.”

Nodding in acceptance of her apology he continued,”These events can indeed be avoided. I cannot reveal how, but I can give you direction. You must find the sword Aman du Rai.”

Eyes widening as hope flared she asked, “Where? Where can I find such a sword?”

“That I cannot reveal. You must unlock this mystery for yourself. Fear not for the Kami’s has sent help in various ways.”

Wanting to know more but knowing nothing more would be told, she fumed silently.

“Thank you Lord Katzunami.” She said dropping into a graceful courtesy.

Katzunami watched the young woman once more, and doing what he’d longed to do for years now, he walked up to her, startling the young woman, as he had never before gotten this close to her before, he gently touched her skin, stroking her cheek, reveling in the soft perfection of it.

“All will be well my dear rose petal. All will be well. The Kami’s, your people, even myself have faith in you.”

As his body began to disappear, and she began to feel herself fade away, she remembered thinking that his hands were warm and gentle on her skin. Then the feeling began; the feeling of falling. She felt as though she was dropping from the sky, she closed her eyes and embraced her fall.

OoOoOoOoO

Miroku sat waiting with General Rykotsu inside Kagome’s study. Kagome was to meet with the two males to go over the state of the Northern lands as was done once every week. Last week’s review had raised some red flags however.

There seemed to be a spike in brutal killings as of late. Murders in the Northern lands were scarce, however they did occur. At first, they had not thought anything of the murders, but now, after extensive investigation, they were beginning to worry. The bodies of the victims were unrecognizable. The murderer butchered its victims.

Literally.

Miroku himself had seen those bodies. The killings were brutal and inhumane. Arms, legs, even the heads were cut from the bodies. At times, the killer would chop the bodies into bits and pieces and spread them about the room.

What was worse was that the killer did not seem to have preference. Women, children, the elderly, humans, Youkai, it mattered not; all were killed in the same gruesome way. In light of this frightening development, a team of soldiers had been dispatched a week ago to uncover any clues, or hopefully, apprehend any suspects and bring them to the Northern lands for questioning.

The investigating soldiers that had been dispatched were due back any moment. Hopefully, the reports would help pinpoint the culprit or culprits.

The inhabitants of the Northern lands were in a frenzy, afraid to even step outside anymore. Consequently, fingers were being pointed, and once those fingers were pointed, those people were labeled as killers no matter what that person said.

On top of the killings of the real killer, they now had to deal with the villagers killing other villagers thought to be the killer.

It was a mess.

This also made it hard for investigating soldiers to search for the real killer, because they had to stop and pass judgment on villagers that lynched suspected killers. No villager had the right or authority to take a life unless in self-defense. However, the villagers seemed to have conveniently forgotten that little law of the land, which Kagome was extremely displeased with.

Since the incident, Kagome had been visiting each and every village in order to try and stop the unnecessary violence between the villagers.

Only in a few villages had she been successful.

“Have the investigating soldiers returned?” Miroku asked.

“Nay, they have not,” Rykotsu answered, “and there does not seem to be any sign of them,”

Miroku sat back in his chair, placing a finger to his chin in thought.

That was not normal for the soldiers. Punctuality was something that was programmed into their heads during their training. Each soldier knew the importance of being on time. Tardiness was only acceptable in extreme situations. Knowing this, the absence of the soldiers had him worried.

Speaking of absence, Kagome was still not here; which could only mean one thing. She was having a Vision.

“I’ll go,” Rykotsu said standing.

Miroku nodded as the male stood and left the room. The Vision could be a good thing, or a bad thing. Her Vision usually either revealed something that would occur in the future, whether it good or bad. Her Vision was one of the reasons why the Northern lands were so prosperous. Knowing of danger ahead of time and being able to prepare for that danger gave them a huge advantage over the other three territories.

But every Vision came with a price. That price was paid by Kagome herself.

It was a price Miroku wished she did not have to pay; however, he knew there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. It was just the way things were. He sighed, placing his head down on the gleaming oak table.

He was getting a headache. There was just too much going on this year; this serial killer, the pressure from the other Territory Lords to meet the Territory Lord of the Northern lands, the villagers lynching each other. Everything was just spinning out of control.

Soft hands rubbed his shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Miroku?” Sango asked.

Miroku sighed again, sitting up he looked up at Sango. She was such a beauty. Long black hair pulled into to a high ponytail, dazzling brown eyes, a perfect figure, tone from years of training and fighting as a warrior.

Miroku was completely head over heels for the woman; had been for some time. Sango, however, was a hard woman to crack.

Sweet words and a charming smile were not enough to win her over.

“Everything,” he said with a pout.

“It will be alright,” she said pinching his cheeks, “Whatever is going on, you’ll find a solution. You always do,”

Miroku scrawled up at her.

“I am not sure if I can. There are some serious problems coming to light, Sango. More may come once Kagome awakens.”

Knowing what he meant, Sango sighed and took a seat on the desk.

“Oh dear,” she said, “Kagome is having a Vision isn’t she?”

Miroku nodded.

“Rykotsu has gone to take care of her,” Miroku said.

Sango nodded.

“I hope it’s not more bad news,” she said.

“Me neither,” Miroku said leaning back in his chair, eyes staring at the ceiling, “We do not need anymore bad news,”

Sango tugged on his small ponytail teasingly.

“Whatever it is, we will deal with. Don’t worry so much,”

“Ahhh, the stress of it all!” Miroku said as he moved over to Sango, his face inches from her own.

Sango reared back in surprise.

“Won’t you take away my stress, dearest Sango?” he said.

Sango raised a twitching brow.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” she asked, though she had a pretty good idea what he was going to say.

“Why by playing a simple game,” he said.

“A game?”

“Aye, games and sports are a great stress releaser,” he said with feigned seriousness, “It is called, ‘Naked Wrestling-‘”

Sango brought her hand back and let it fly, smacking Miroku right across the face. The stinging blow echoed through the castle as Miroku fell back in his chair, hitting the floor hard.

Sango stood, hands on her hips as she stood over the fallen male.

“Serves you right,” she said as turned and walked out of the study.

Miroku closed his eyes; bring his hand up to his sting cheek. Touching it softly, he winced and put his hand down. He sighed.

“It was worth the pain,” he said to the empty room.

OoOoOoOoO

Rykotsu walked down the stairs, heading towards the gardens. It was noon, and the most likely place Kagome would be at the moment was the secret blue rose garden she kept tucked away just beyond the other gardens. She was most likely tending to the blue rose garden she had begun to raise a month ago.

Kagome’s mother use to make blue roses before her death and had had her own secret garden away from the general public. Though her mother had died before teaching her the secret to creating the blue roses, Kagome had spent the last year and a half figuring out how to create them on her own. Last month she had become successful in recreating her mother’s famous blue roses.

He still remembered that day. He smiled as the memory entered his mind. It had been a very warm day that particular day. He had been out training the soldiers……..

Rykotsu pushed his sword full force, knocking the soldier back on his butt. The soldier grunted as he hit the ground.

“You’ve got stand your ground,” Rykotsu said to the soldier.

“Yes, General,” the male said struggling to his feet.

The rookie soldier bowed and stumbled off to the other group of rookie soldier standing along the wall. The Northern Army had recruited a large number of new comers this year. Most of them were young, inexperienced Youkai and human alike. Some were more mature and experienced males looking for a way to make money no doubt.

They had all come to the right place. Joining the Army would surely fatten a man’s pockets as well as give him privileges that normal villagers did not have.

“Alright, whose next?” Rykotsu asked.

After brief hesitation, another rookie stepped forward, sword in hand. He was a human male, of average height and build, dark hair and eyes, and a handsomely rugged face.

“What’s your name?”

“Shinjuki,” the man said.

“Come at me,” Rykotsu said holding up his sword in a defensively.

The male charged, sword raised. Rykotsu gripped his sword tightly as the man’s sword crashed down on his own. The sound of clashing metal filled the dojo.

Pushing the male back, Rykotsu swing his sword, bringing it down hard onto Shinjuki’s.

Shinjuki stumbled back a moment before plating a foot and standing his ground. Before he could get his wits about him, Rykotsu was on him again, hammering his sword over and over onto his sword, pushing the poor rookie backwards towards the dojo wall.

With one last thrust, Rykotsu disarmed the male, pointing the tip of the blade at his jugular.

With his back against the wall and his sword lying on the ground a few feet away, Shinjuki surrendered.

Pulling the sword back, Rykotsu patted the man on the shoulder.

“Good job. You have excellent technique,”

The man bowed.

“Thank you, General Rykotsu,” he said before rejoining the others.

“All of you need a lot more work,” Rykotsu said sheathing his sword, “First we will start on-“

“Rykotsu!” a voice called.

Rykotsu and the rookies turned as Kagome came running into the dojo her emerald eyes alive with excitement. Not wanting her to cause a scene, Rykotsu turned to the rookies.

“Practice your technique, I want those techniques perfected by the time I return,” he said before turning and walking away.

As he stepped out of the dojo and closed the door, Kagome grabbed his hand and was off.

“Kagome,” he said in surprise, “What is this about?”

“You have to see for yourself! I finally did it!” she said as she dragged him outside and through the castle.

“Did what?” he asked.

“You’ll see!” Kagome said as they continued to run.

Servants dived out of the way as the two went crashing through the halls and out of doors. They entered one garden, exited, and entered another.

Finally, she stopped, pointing to a bush near a white gazebo. Rykotsu looked at the bush. Seeing nothing he turned back to Kagome.

“What?” he asked.

Kagome huffed as she walked over to the bush and pushed it open. Rykotsu followed her over and, bending down, he peered into the hole created. Inside, a rose was beginning to bloom, its petals a light blue.

“Blue roses,” he said softly.

Kagome smiled, nodding her head vigorously.

He straightened, a smile on his face. He ruffled her hair. He was as proud as any father could be with their child.

“Good job, Kagome,” he said.

“You think mother would be proud?” she asked looking up at him with a smiling face.

“Aye,” he said, “Indeed she would,”

That had only been a month ago. Now, Kagome was planting blue roses like crazy. News of blue roses being grown had spread fast, and now, everyone wanted such a rose. Kagome, however, was not willing to share her mother’s secret. Instead, she grew them in abundance and distributed them to villagers and others for a profit.

Most of her afternoons were spent tending to the flowers.

He entered the private rose garden and sure enough, there was Kagome. She was lying face down on the ground before the blue rose bush. Hurrying over to her, he turned her over. She was unconscious, blood dripping from her nose and mouth.

Carefully, he picked her up and made his way back to the castle. Hurrying up the stairs to her bedroom, he opened the door and slammed it closed behind him with his foot. Laying her down on the bed he picked up her arm and felt her wrist, looking for signs of life. Only after finding a strong pulse did he turn and head for her private hot spring.

On the shelf inside the room containing the spring sat a bathing cloth and a small wooden bucket. Grabbing both he kneeled down by the spring and dunked the bucket into the water, scooping up steaming water.

Taking the water with him back into the bedroom, he sat the bucket on a bedside table and dipped the rag. He rung out the rag and wiped the blood from her nose and mouth.

Dipping the cloth again, he washed the blood from the cloth before washing her face again. Once done, he placed the cloth back in the bucket. Reaching out, he stroked her hair back. His daughter was so special to him. Though not of his blood, she was as much his daughter as any blood father and daughter. He had been taking care of her since the murder of her parents, and over the years, they had gotten so close. The daughter and father relationship had come almost naturally.

Even he had not seen this coming, but now that it had, he embraced it, welcomed it with open arms. She was his daughter, his fiery, short tempered, sweet-hearted daughter, and nothing and no one would ever change that.

Standing, he left her room. She would be out for a long time. A few hours to a few days, it was hard to tell. These Visions occurred randomly, and Kagome awoke randomly from the affects of the Visions as well.

Rykotsu returned to the study where Miroku waited.

Looking at the silent male seated in the chair, his right cheek swollen, a big red hand print shinning brightly on the abused cheek. He did not even have to detect her scent to know that Sango had been here moments earlier.

Rykotsu sat down next to the male. The two worked in silence, reading and signing documents before Miroku spoke.

“It was worth the pain,” he said.

Rykotsu smirked.

OoOoOoOoO

Yuya sat eating his dinner. His dinner was nothing special really; just the usual, stale rice and bad meat. He sighed. He hated eating this every single day for breakfast, dinner and supper, but it was the only thing the villagers would give him to eat. It was either this or nothing.

The marked child of a condemned female believed to be a worshiper of an enemy of the Gods, Yuya had always lived his life this way. He rarely came out of his hut fearing ridicule and possible physical harm to his person, and the few times he did the villagers treated him as though he were a diseased animal that, at any moment, would snap and attack.

The older villagers often made up stories about him to scare naughty children that disobeyed their parents and elders, or stayed out past curfew. They told the children that if they continued to be naughty, Yuya the evil spawn of female devil from hell that lived in the old hut on the outskirts of town would eat their hearts and send their soul to eternal damnation.

Yuya thought the tales were hurtful and ridiculous. He had no connection to hell, nor had his mother.

True he was an atheist as had his mother that died, but that had nothing to do with worshipping the enemy of Gods. The fears of the villagers were born of pure ignorance and fear. There was no reasoning with the people here; they would listen to nothing he said. They were completely convinced that he was a spawn of the devil. Anything that went wrong in the village was his doing. If it rained for too long, that was his doing. If there was no rain for long periods of time, it was his doing. If there were strong winds, that blew down hut roofs, that was his doing.

If a villager was injured, it was his doing. If sickness overcame more than a few villagers, that was his doing as well. Point being, everything was his fault.

Usually, when he was blamed for such things, he did not really care, but now, with brutal murders occurring in the village, murders he was being blamed for, he was actually starting to fear for his life. Murder was a serious offense in the village.

Deaths that occurred from disease and accidents were always investigated thoroughly. With a murderer on the loose, the villagers were convinced that he was the killer and for once, he was afraid.

Since he had been blamed, things had begun to happen to him, threats had been made. Twice this week alone, the villagers had tried to burn down his hut while he slept. Luckily, he had heard the mob approaching before the fire could be set to his hut, however, since then; things had slowly been getting out of control.

He was afraid they were going to kill him soon.

He jumped at the sound of banging along the wood frame of his hut. The curtain covering the open doorway opened and a young boy rushed inside.

“Yuya!” he exclaimed.

He recognized the boy as Michigo, probably his only ally in the village. Michigo was a thirteen year old boy that brought him the stale food from the village and the only one that seemed to have any common sense. The boy did not fear him at all. When ever he was able to get away without being missed, the two would sit and talk or craft objects from clay. They both were very creative and skillful with their hands. They usually created animals they had seen or even created different animals; taking parts from one animal and combining it with another.

Their hardened works lined his shelves.

“What is it, Michigo?” Yuya asked setting his bowl of stale ice on the ground.

“The villagers! Their coming, you’ve got to get out of her before-“

Michigo stopped as the sound of shouting and raise voice filled their ears from outside the hut. A rock crashed through the window, bouncing off the shelf, knocking the claw animals from the wall. The animals shattered into pieces.

“Get out here murderer!” someone screamed from outside.

“Murderer!”

“Devil worshiper!!”

“You’ve got to get out of here!” Michigo yelled.

Yuya wasted no time. Standing, he ducked out the back door. He stopped in horror. Villagers stood before him, nooses, pitch forks and rocks in their hands.

“Ye’re gonna pay murderer!” said one of the villagers.

Yuya ran, taking off for the cover of the woods. The crowd ran after him, yelling and tossing rocks after him. Yuya ran as fast through the forest, barely feeling the branches and sticks that cut and smacked at his body, nearly tripping several times in his haste.

His heart was pounding his ears, his lungs felt as though they were on fire, his bare feet being cut up by rocks and other such sharp objects.

Suddenly he tripped, crashing and landing hard on the forest floor. The mob was on him seconds, punching, kicking, spitting, and hurling insults and threats. The beating seemed to go on for ever. Every kick, every punch hurt more than the last.

Finally, after he was no longer able to move, the crowd picked him up, carrying him over their heads.

Yuya looked up at the dark sky through swollen eyes. Tears leaked from his puffy eyes. He was going to die. He knew that. The fear he felt was all consuming.

“Leave him alone!” Michigo yelled, tears streaming down his face.

The crowd did not even acknowledge him. Frustrated, he pulled on the kimono of one male, not caring as he was dragged along the ground. The villager pushed him away angrily.

“He is a cold blooded killer, boy! Leave well enough alone! He is gonna pay for his crimes!” the villager said.

“He is not! He never hurt nobody! You have no proof that he did!” Michigo yelled.

“I will not hear anymore from ye boy!” the man said as he slapped the boy across the floor, “Ye have let the devil whisper in yer ear! He has poisoned yer mind! If ye have any sense ye will leave well enough alone and repent for ye sins!”

That said, the male turned to rejoin the crowd.

Yuya began to struggle, angry that the male had taken his ignorance out on the boy. As he struggled, the crowd lost its grip on him. The breath left his lungs as he crashed hard to the ground.

Yuya swung blindly at the villagers as they came down on him, once more kicking and punching, this time, however, Yuya knocked a few villagers on their asses. Breaking away from the crowd momentarily, he began to limp away from the mob.

He did not get very far.

A large villager tackled him to the floor and began to pummel him with his fists. Over and over he punched his face. Yuya could do nothing to defend himself. His hands to his side, he took the angry male’s blows. Blood filled his mouth, leaking down his throat. Something hard and small went down his throat with the rushing blood. In the back of his mind he realized it was a tooth from his mouth.

Stars danced before his eyes as another villager pulled the hefty man off of him. He felt himself being picked up and moved once more. His mind screamed at him to move, to fight, to flee, anything, but his body would not move, could not move. The fear set in again, and more tears filled his eyes.

“Nay,” he whispered through swollen and bleeding lips.

“NAY!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs over and over.

As they neared a large tree he cursed each and every villager. Cursed them, and damned them to the lowest pits of hell, cursed their very souls, cursed their children and their children’s children, and their children’s children’s children. He had never felt such hatred coursing through his body in his entire life.

He felt it like a living breathing entity. He wished he had been the killer. He wished he HAD slaughtered the people of the village and scattered them across his backyard. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill them all! He wanted to see this village and everyone in it burn to the ground for what they had done to him, for what they had done to his mother!

The crowd sat him on his feet. He struggled wildly as they tied his hands behind his back. They held him still as they tied his hands tightly with a rope. The rope chafed, digging into his skin, bruising his wrists. He watched as the tied the rope to a large oak tree.

A large wooden box was set beneath it. The crowd roughly pushed him over to the tree. He struggled as the pushed the noose over his neck, tightening it. He spit blood and saliva into their faces. The hefty male from before reared back and smashed a large meaty fist into his face, momentarily stunning him. As he stood dazed, they hefted his feet up onto the wooden box. As his mind cleared, he tried to fight again. It was no use.

The hefty man kicked the box from beneath his feet.

The crowd cheered as the noose pulled on his neck and a loud crack echoed through the land, the hanging males body convulsing.

Crimson eyes watched from the bushes, a smile on his face.

OoOoOoOoO

This is the rewritten version of the first chapter. I will slowly but surely be rewriting many of the chapters. Don’t worry, I will be sure to tell everyone when a chapter has been rewritten. The rewritten versions will not change the storyline or plot, however I want all my chapters to be at least 5,000 words a piece, therefore I will be adding scenes to the chapters that do not meet the 5,000 mark. Tell me what you think of this version!

That said, I hope you all enjoy the story!

Laters!

~Sessakag