Nock
Title: Nock
Fandom: Inuyasha
Genre: Drama/Suspense/What You Didn't See/Mindfuck (with a pinch of horror)
Pairings: implied Inuyasha/Kikyou, Naraku/Kaede
Rating: PG for horror aspects
Summary: She has sprouted like a shadow blessed with the near-forbidden privilege of advancing to the station of the original.
Word Count: 1214
Note: unusual interpretation of younger!Kaede
Nock
At eight she is small and crouching, half-stripped of sight.
She pretends she is blind. No, that flash of red and silver-white didn’t just disappear to terrorize the rest of the village, no, it didn’t, it’s simply an illusion, and that really wasn’t who she thought had taken away half her vision, no, and her thoughts are racing as fast as her heart as she stumbles to safety.
The sky still fills with the roar of destruction, falling-flaming timber, and the cries of humans.
An hour later, she is bandaged. An hour later, her elder sister is bleeding and breathing her last. The slash in her shoulder, red bleeding upon white, sets the younger one back a step, pigeonholing her in a corner as she cups the cursed pinkness in her hands.
Her throat is scraped clean as she screams out her sister’s name.
There is no passing of hands for this curse. She knows.
It’s her sister’s wishes. She knows.
But something else comes through and settles itself within her soul. Just as that sphere shall burn, something new, some blazing and deep-set passion, will send fiery fingers up her spine. It will set its palms upon her shoulders and drive her forward, and she cannot refuse.
Somewhere beyond the scope of the village, a figure lurks. He smiles, eerie smile, and licks his claws clean. Clean of her blood, of her blood, of their blood. Two sisters never tasted so sweet.
Smoke and death pollute the sky, darkening it like a false sunset. He shifts, and he is no longer as he was before.
-
At ten she feels eyes upon her. They always come in sets. They always have. They burn. She turns, and they are gone.
She takes a bow in her hands and attempts to string it. She fails miserably.
-
At twelve her body is lean and sinewy. Her hair is painfully familiar, as is her way of dress. Eyes still move over her. They do not belong to the villagers. They have grown used to her and the patch over her eye.
This time she can string the bow, but nocking the arrow is the farthest she will go. Aiming on her blind side hurts a little too much.
-
Three years gone past and she is still slight in frame, but at fifteen she is still an adult. She has sprouted like a shadow blessed with the near-forbidden privilege of advancing to the station of the original. She was never quite as good with herbs or arrows as her sister had been. She is still eager to learn. She knows she has a long way to go.
She stands near the treeline and glances upon the village far below, turning to enter the forest, basket in hand, bow strapped to her back. No younger sibling is there to carry it for her. She bites her lip at the thought, almost forgetting who she is.
At the sacred tree she stops, her one eye traveling up the trunk to where the hanyou hangs. It has been too long since her last visit.
Her gaze lingers upon those claws of his. She cannot help it, she tells herself, those claws are so sharp, and it is times like this that she remembers. I’m not blind! she nearly screams. I can still see clearly, she says in self delusion. With fisted hands she drops the basket and tenses in place, shaking with anger.
The trees creak and groan with an ominous wind as she shuts her eye and sighs, and the breeze nearly chills her to the bone. In a flash the bow is in her hands, arrow nocked, feathers nearly dusting her cheek, and the shadows slip from the corners of her mind. Something has moved. Show yourself, she whispers aloud but too low to hear. She turns at the crunch of leaves, skittish.
She and the slumber-enchanted hanyou are alone.
Her body shakes as she releases the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
-
On the other side of the forest, the shadows have eyes.
-
At sixteen she has her first suitor. He seems incapable of comprehending the meaning behind her robes. He is not of her village.
She is gardening the first time he comes by. A few quick, sharp words are all she gives him before turning her back. He chuckles, and it is then that she recognises him, or rather, the feel of his eyes sliding over her neck, the prickle of his gaze upon her.
Eye wide, she turns with a gasp. Nothing stands in his place.
She returns to her gardening, pulling weeds with tense, aching muscles as her arms shake.
-
When he returns two weeks later she is two steps ahead. His mistake was taking the form of a villager who died two days before.
But that is not whom she sees. Those eyes are too painfully familiar.
Bow drawn, the string stretched tight, she glares as she whispers, demon begone, too low to hear.
His gaze burns into her throat as he shifts and vanishes.
She keeps the arrow nocked for ten more minutes, just in case he returns.
-
The next and last visit he pays, she is already visiting the hanyou.
She stands at the base of the tree and looks up, gaze focused on his eyes. What did you see before my sister shot you through the heart? she silently asks, not for the first time. What did she see in you? Then from his eyes, down to his claws.
A rustle sounds, and she tears her gaze around, leveling it at the stranger behind her as she recognises his eyes.
“Leave!” she cries, bowstring stretched tight with an arrow nocked. “What is it you see in me, that compels you to follow me?”
He leans wordlessly to one side and smiles, and for a moment she fears he will vanish again. “Who are you?”
“Are you really so blind?” he drawls.
She tenses, anger flaring like the flames that swallowed up her sister and the jewel. “Who are you?” she repeats, threatens.
A chuckle. “You don’t recognise…” His eyes burn as he lifts a hand, fingertips morphing into claws, and “These, that blessed you with that patch?” he says as she backs toward the tree.
She pulls the string back wordlessly.
“You are the shadow,” and his lips curl into a smirk of cruelty.
The arrow hits only air. He has shifted and vanished, leaving behind only words.
She swallows. Dropping the bow, she drops to her knees, heart racing. After a moment she looks up at the hanyou and says, “I didn’t see you, did I?”
He doesn’t answer, but she knows what his reply would be. Keh, you blind or something?
She doesn’t answer, but she knows what her reply would be. No, I didn’t. No, she wasn’t. It was simply an illusion, and that really wasn’t who she thought had taken away half her vision, no. There are still many things she wishes to know, but a few are now for sure.
She takes off her patch and tries to see with both eyes open. Physically she can’t, but in her mind, she can.
And after today, she is no longer a shadow, as she becomes herself.
Fandom: Inuyasha
Genre: Drama/Suspense/What You Didn't See/Mindfuck (with a pinch of horror)
Pairings: implied Inuyasha/Kikyou, Naraku/Kaede
Rating: PG for horror aspects
Summary: She has sprouted like a shadow blessed with the near-forbidden privilege of advancing to the station of the original.
Word Count: 1214
Note: unusual interpretation of younger!Kaede
Nock
At eight she is small and crouching, half-stripped of sight.
She pretends she is blind. No, that flash of red and silver-white didn’t just disappear to terrorize the rest of the village, no, it didn’t, it’s simply an illusion, and that really wasn’t who she thought had taken away half her vision, no, and her thoughts are racing as fast as her heart as she stumbles to safety.
The sky still fills with the roar of destruction, falling-flaming timber, and the cries of humans.
An hour later, she is bandaged. An hour later, her elder sister is bleeding and breathing her last. The slash in her shoulder, red bleeding upon white, sets the younger one back a step, pigeonholing her in a corner as she cups the cursed pinkness in her hands.
Her throat is scraped clean as she screams out her sister’s name.
There is no passing of hands for this curse. She knows.
It’s her sister’s wishes. She knows.
But something else comes through and settles itself within her soul. Just as that sphere shall burn, something new, some blazing and deep-set passion, will send fiery fingers up her spine. It will set its palms upon her shoulders and drive her forward, and she cannot refuse.
Somewhere beyond the scope of the village, a figure lurks. He smiles, eerie smile, and licks his claws clean. Clean of her blood, of her blood, of their blood. Two sisters never tasted so sweet.
Smoke and death pollute the sky, darkening it like a false sunset. He shifts, and he is no longer as he was before.
-
At ten she feels eyes upon her. They always come in sets. They always have. They burn. She turns, and they are gone.
She takes a bow in her hands and attempts to string it. She fails miserably.
-
At twelve her body is lean and sinewy. Her hair is painfully familiar, as is her way of dress. Eyes still move over her. They do not belong to the villagers. They have grown used to her and the patch over her eye.
This time she can string the bow, but nocking the arrow is the farthest she will go. Aiming on her blind side hurts a little too much.
-
Three years gone past and she is still slight in frame, but at fifteen she is still an adult. She has sprouted like a shadow blessed with the near-forbidden privilege of advancing to the station of the original. She was never quite as good with herbs or arrows as her sister had been. She is still eager to learn. She knows she has a long way to go.
She stands near the treeline and glances upon the village far below, turning to enter the forest, basket in hand, bow strapped to her back. No younger sibling is there to carry it for her. She bites her lip at the thought, almost forgetting who she is.
At the sacred tree she stops, her one eye traveling up the trunk to where the hanyou hangs. It has been too long since her last visit.
Her gaze lingers upon those claws of his. She cannot help it, she tells herself, those claws are so sharp, and it is times like this that she remembers. I’m not blind! she nearly screams. I can still see clearly, she says in self delusion. With fisted hands she drops the basket and tenses in place, shaking with anger.
The trees creak and groan with an ominous wind as she shuts her eye and sighs, and the breeze nearly chills her to the bone. In a flash the bow is in her hands, arrow nocked, feathers nearly dusting her cheek, and the shadows slip from the corners of her mind. Something has moved. Show yourself, she whispers aloud but too low to hear. She turns at the crunch of leaves, skittish.
She and the slumber-enchanted hanyou are alone.
Her body shakes as she releases the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
-
On the other side of the forest, the shadows have eyes.
-
At sixteen she has her first suitor. He seems incapable of comprehending the meaning behind her robes. He is not of her village.
She is gardening the first time he comes by. A few quick, sharp words are all she gives him before turning her back. He chuckles, and it is then that she recognises him, or rather, the feel of his eyes sliding over her neck, the prickle of his gaze upon her.
Eye wide, she turns with a gasp. Nothing stands in his place.
She returns to her gardening, pulling weeds with tense, aching muscles as her arms shake.
-
When he returns two weeks later she is two steps ahead. His mistake was taking the form of a villager who died two days before.
But that is not whom she sees. Those eyes are too painfully familiar.
Bow drawn, the string stretched tight, she glares as she whispers, demon begone, too low to hear.
His gaze burns into her throat as he shifts and vanishes.
She keeps the arrow nocked for ten more minutes, just in case he returns.
-
The next and last visit he pays, she is already visiting the hanyou.
She stands at the base of the tree and looks up, gaze focused on his eyes. What did you see before my sister shot you through the heart? she silently asks, not for the first time. What did she see in you? Then from his eyes, down to his claws.
A rustle sounds, and she tears her gaze around, leveling it at the stranger behind her as she recognises his eyes.
“Leave!” she cries, bowstring stretched tight with an arrow nocked. “What is it you see in me, that compels you to follow me?”
He leans wordlessly to one side and smiles, and for a moment she fears he will vanish again. “Who are you?”
“Are you really so blind?” he drawls.
She tenses, anger flaring like the flames that swallowed up her sister and the jewel. “Who are you?” she repeats, threatens.
A chuckle. “You don’t recognise…” His eyes burn as he lifts a hand, fingertips morphing into claws, and “These, that blessed you with that patch?” he says as she backs toward the tree.
She pulls the string back wordlessly.
“You are the shadow,” and his lips curl into a smirk of cruelty.
The arrow hits only air. He has shifted and vanished, leaving behind only words.
She swallows. Dropping the bow, she drops to her knees, heart racing. After a moment she looks up at the hanyou and says, “I didn’t see you, did I?”
He doesn’t answer, but she knows what his reply would be. Keh, you blind or something?
She doesn’t answer, but she knows what her reply would be. No, I didn’t. No, she wasn’t. It was simply an illusion, and that really wasn’t who she thought had taken away half her vision, no. There are still many things she wishes to know, but a few are now for sure.
She takes off her patch and tries to see with both eyes open. Physically she can’t, but in her mind, she can.
And after today, she is no longer a shadow, as she becomes herself.