Nightshift 43: West Wing, Hall 2-A
[from here]
Although her body was going through the motions--metal, she still needed to collect metal for the blade she was going to have created--what was going on within Yomi's mind had nothing to do with reaching her scavenging goals.
Had it been real? Kagura's face, Kagura's hands, Kagura's voice, Kagura's body. Child no longer. Little sister no longer. A young woman with the combined fury of all the sesshouseki within her. Grieving Yomi's death to the point of... of resurrection.
That had to be 'Izumi'. A new her?
Yomi grit her teeth. The thought of everything said and unsaid made a part of her quake in horror, both because Yomi could be blamed for some of the future and that guilt would never leave her, and conversely, because Kagura's future choices unnerved her in their hopelessness. Kagura, did she really feel as she did? Was she really in control of that power as she said? Forsaking the world... the Kyuubi's immeasurable evil lurking behind Kagura's tears... Was it all true? And if so, what was the sick purpose in bringing them together now? Nothing but heartache would come out of it...
It was all Yomi could do, drawing a line between them. It was too much. If only Kagura had never shown up in this place.
Blindly staring into the darkness, Yomi stalked ahead, aware of the presence following in step with her, but not acknowledging it. The intercom was continuing to cut in and out, the sorrowful moans of dozens of disembodied voices filling the building in a death knell. Like they were surrounded with the Category Ds of the night before--a spike in the haunted area. She almost welcomed the promise of an attack. It would take her mind off other, more complex conflicts that she was less equipped to face.
When she came to the door leading into the men's bathroom, Yomi stopped. "Here," she heard herself say. It was then that something flickered at the corner of her vision, drawing her eye against her will... only to find nothing.
Maybe Kagura had been nothing more than the same kind of illusion. But the sesshouseki's eagerness wouldn't let her believe it.
Although her body was going through the motions--metal, she still needed to collect metal for the blade she was going to have created--what was going on within Yomi's mind had nothing to do with reaching her scavenging goals.
Had it been real? Kagura's face, Kagura's hands, Kagura's voice, Kagura's body. Child no longer. Little sister no longer. A young woman with the combined fury of all the sesshouseki within her. Grieving Yomi's death to the point of... of resurrection.
That had to be 'Izumi'. A new her?
Yomi grit her teeth. The thought of everything said and unsaid made a part of her quake in horror, both because Yomi could be blamed for some of the future and that guilt would never leave her, and conversely, because Kagura's future choices unnerved her in their hopelessness. Kagura, did she really feel as she did? Was she really in control of that power as she said? Forsaking the world... the Kyuubi's immeasurable evil lurking behind Kagura's tears... Was it all true? And if so, what was the sick purpose in bringing them together now? Nothing but heartache would come out of it...
It was all Yomi could do, drawing a line between them. It was too much. If only Kagura had never shown up in this place.
Blindly staring into the darkness, Yomi stalked ahead, aware of the presence following in step with her, but not acknowledging it. The intercom was continuing to cut in and out, the sorrowful moans of dozens of disembodied voices filling the building in a death knell. Like they were surrounded with the Category Ds of the night before--a spike in the haunted area. She almost welcomed the promise of an attack. It would take her mind off other, more complex conflicts that she was less equipped to face.
When she came to the door leading into the men's bathroom, Yomi stopped. "Here," she heard herself say. It was then that something flickered at the corner of her vision, drawing her eye against her will... only to find nothing.
Maybe Kagura had been nothing more than the same kind of illusion. But the sesshouseki's eagerness wouldn't let her believe it.