Chapter Text
The arena was little more than a hole dug into the ground.
A hole, yes: but it was a big hole, and deep. The sides were sheer and completely smooth, reinforced with some unknown material impervious to even the best-made weapons and the strongest of demon claws, impossible to climb: the many, many individuals who had tried to climb it had learned that the hard way.
Even in the unlikely event that some lucky individual was smart or strong enough to get to the top of the wall, there was still the barrier to contend with.
Naraku's barriers were now completely impenetrable even with Tetsusaiga's most advanced techniques… and they no longer had Tetsusaiga. Once that barrier had gone up, it never came back down until only one of the people under it was left standing (and even the one was generally considered optional).
There was a roar from above as the first booted foot stepped forward, stirring up the sand of the pit with every step its owner took.
Sango walked quickly, confidently, her stride steady and sure. It was absolutely imperative never to show weakness when entering the arena; she'd learned that hard lesson a long time ago. Nor did she bother to look up through the top of the barrier; she could hear the jeering and roaring of the demon audience above her well enough as it was: calling for her victory or for her demise, it made no difference to her in the end. There was no particular need for her to see them as well.
Nor, for that matter, did she need to see her brother, sitting docile and dead-eyed at Naraku's feet.
…in the beginning, she had always looked. Hoping desperately for a sign that he was still in there, that he might recognize her or at the very least himself. No matter how many times she'd craned her neck or how hard she'd strained her eyes, though, Kohaku's gaze had remained dull and lifeless, staring right through her as if she weren't even there, as unresponsive to her pleading eyes as he was to the jeering of the demons around him and to the long fingers that combed through his hair in much the same way that another man might pet a cat.
(Sango still had no idea what had happened to Kirara. She could only hold onto the hope that wherever her nekomata companion was, it was as far away as possible from all of this.)
On the opposite side of the arena, there was the long slow scrape of a door sliding open.
In the arena, there was no such thing as honor. Most combatants wouldn't wait for their opponent to be ready before they attacked, which meant that if she wanted to live, she couldn't afford to either. In a single smooth motion, Sango slung Hiraikotsu from her back, and held it poised and ready as she waited to get a clear shot.
Across from her, a set of bare, clawed feet stepped forward to face her.
Even through the puff of dust that rose up, it was possible to see the silver hair and the intense red of fire rat fur.
"I might have known." Even from behind the mask that covered her face, her voice was coming out clear. Grimly, she hefted her weapon. "Are you ready, Inuyasha?"
"Ha!" He smacked a fist into his palm, giving her a cocky smirk that did not reach his eyes. "Bring it on!"
Once, she remembered, there had been a time when things were different.
Once, humans like herself had lived in small close-knit villages, which many generations of families had built and maintained together, hunting and farming and fishing only for themselves. Yes, there were bandits and wars, and once in a while some youkai or other made themselves a problem, but humans had still been independent. They'd still had at least the hope of living out a normal, peaceful life.
That had been before Naraku.
A village slaughtered and a young boy enslaved . A family curse. A priestess and her half-demon lover tricked into turning on each other.
Perhaps it was because it had happened over so many years and generations that nobody had ever imagined exactly how bad it could get. They'd been doing nothing but reacting in the moment, when all along Naraku was playing the long game.
Yes, Naraku kept getting stronger and stronger… but then again, so did they. Yes, Naraku was powerful, and manipulative, but he was only one demon, his only ally a rogue priestess who'd sold her soul for eternal youth . Yes, the Shikon Jewel was in play, but they still had at least some of the pieces.
Yes, they had known it was bad, but back then, it had still been possible to believe that they might have hope.
Of course, all of that had been before Naraku had won.
Now, humans were little more than fodder for demon whims, kept in glorified pens for use as food or to be hunted down for sport by their new demon overlords.
…the ones who were really unlucky were forced into the arena.
"You call that a punch!? That was fuckin' pathetic!"
Sango gritted her teeth, but choked down all of the retorts that immediately rose to her lips. She knew what he was trying to do.
Instead, she hefted Hiraikotsu from her back and grimly swung. The blunt end, and slowly enough that it should be no match for his demon reflexes.
It was no match for his demon reflexes. As a matter of fact, it seemed like she'd held back just a little too much.
The formerly swelling roar of the crowd broke into a chorus of boos and hisses, and a sudden increase in the weight of her weapon had Sango looking up, only to meet the yellow eyes of the very annoyed half-demon who was now crouched on all fours on Hiraikotsu's blunt side.
Before she could react, he'd slid all the way down to her over the surface of her own weapon, grabbing two fistfuls of her armor in a pair of clawed hands.
"What the hell, Sango!?" He shook her, not gently, a low growl bubbling up in his throat. "You call yourself a Demon Slayer!? No wonder your village got slaughtered, if all of you were this weak! Now fight me like you fucking mean it!"
Sango didn't even hear the rest of what he was saying.
All at once, where they were, what she was doing, why exactly he was so deliberately digging his fingers into old wounds, all flew from her mind. The only thing she was aware of was the rage that filled her vision, and she threw him off with a yell before running directly at him, Hiraikotsu raised high.
She missed the brief look of triumph that flashed across his face before her weapon connected with his chest in a crack of broken ribs.
The last thing that Sango remembered was burning.
She and Inuyasha had been alone, that night. Kagome had gone home for a test. Miroku and Kirara were both still recovering from their last battle, and were too injured to fight. The smart thing to do would have been to wait until the whole group was back together, and then go after the problem in force.
The issue was that problems like this wouldn't wait for all of them to be healed and present, and they couldn't just stand by and let that demon keep tearing up the village.
They'd been so sure that they could handle it.
So, they geared up and headed out. Inuyasha complained the whole time about how slow she was moving. At the time, she'd found his griping annoying. Now, she clung to that memory, turning it fondly over and over in her mind every night to lull herself to sleep: the last vestiges of a time when there was still the possibility that things might be okay.
They had thought that it would be an easy job… right up until they were met with a pair of Naraku's newest incarnations, and an impenetrable barrier.
The last thing she remembered before they were taken was the hut where Miroku was staying going up in flames, and screaming her throat raw as the stench of the smoke overpowered even the miasma.
She knew it wasn't a kindness that she was allowed to see him, after.
Naraku didn't do kindness; it wasn't in his nature. No, he only ever had one motivation for all of his actions, and that was to make people suffer.
Naraku was having her brought here not as an act of compassion, but rather to revel in her guilt.
Sango wasn't bound as the two demon guards opened the door of her cell and gestured for her to follow. Restraining her wasn't necessary: not when she knew what was at stake if she misbehaved.
The cell they led her to was in an entirely different wing—couldn't risk the two of them actually talking to each other on any kind of regular basis, she supposed. Still, she knew who that cell belonged to even before she saw the mass of silver hair splayed around the figure that lay crumpled on the floor.
She was not going to break down. Not here, not now. Even if the guilt that Naraku had so carefully cultivated was now gnawing away inside of her like acid, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing a reaction.
As the cell door creaked open and she was pushed inside, Inuyasha turned his head, a single swollen eye cracking open as his mouth quirked upward in a smirk. "Nice one."
Control. Control. Shrugging off the guards, Sango stepped into the cell and knelt down beside him, ignoring the clang of the door being shut and locked behind her. "How are you feeling?"
The guilt settled heavy as a rock in her stomach as her eyes flicked over him. He was stripped to the waist (a detail which Naraku had probably also planned in advance), so she could see the livid black and blue of every bruise she'd inflicted and the shock of red blood against his skin and hair—and that was with at least an hour for his demon healing to repair the worst of the damage. Yes, he had very deliberately provoked the beating… but Sango, like an idiot, had been one who'd fallen for it.
"Keh. How many times do I have to tell ya to stop worrying about me?" Pushing himself up on his elbow, he levered himself into a sitting position. His long hair fell down over his shoulders, screening some of his injuries from view, and Sango could not help but wonder whether that had been the point.
"Why do you do this?" Sango's hands clenched into fists atop her thighs. "It isn't—"
"Don't try to tell me that it ain't fair." A low growl rumbled in his chest as his lip lifted slightly to reveal a single fang. "You wanna know what else ain't fair? That you can't heal from this kinda—"
Halfway through speaking, though, he doubled over with a gasp, wrapping an arm protectively around his stomach, and Sango's heart sank as she saw his hair darkening and his ears shifting position.
Now she knew why Naraku had allowed them to have this visit: it was the night of the new moon.
Just because demons were now the rulers of this world, that didn't exempt them from taking part in the fights.
Many of them were there simply because they enjoyed the bloodshed, and would take any opportunity afforded them to slaughter humans (or, for that matter, each other) at will.
Some of them had broken some demon taboo or law, and had been forced into the arena as punishment.
More than either of them would like to think about were political prisoners, guilty of nothing more than having opposed or questioned Naraku.
Out of all their opponents, the latter were always the most painful to kill.
Sango could not help but remember Kagura, who'd wanted nothing more than her freedom, only to die with it at the very tips of her fingers. She knew what it was, having the one thing you wanted most constantly being dangled just out of your reach.
In the arena, there was only one rule: out of all who walked in, only one would walk out. Sometimes, they might be able to get away with beating their opponent unconscious, but more often than not, they were forced to kill.
Sango told herself that it was an act of mercy.
Sometimes, she wondered how she and Inuyasha were both still alive, despite them having been to the arena again and again, but more and more often, she thought she already knew.
If they were dead, that would mean they could no longer suffer.
There was nothing she could do to help him.
Kagome had always been the one who'd been there with the bandages and the disinfectants and the medicines that could make even the most intense pain miraculously disappear. She'd always been the one who was there with the gentle touches and the words of reassurance, not only for Inuyasha but for Sango as well.
They'd both touched Kagome… but never each other.
"Fuck." Inuyasha curled in on himself, gritting his teeth. "Fuckin' hate this night."
Apologizing was pointless; he wouldn't have accepted it anyway. They also had no medical supplies in here, so there was nothing Sango could do.
…there was only one thing that Sango knew how to do.
Shifting her weight, she gathered her legs underneath her and pushed herself to her feet in a single fluid motion.
Now curled onto his side, Inuyasha cracked open a single dark eye. "The fuck are you doing?" Despite the harshness of his words, the question lacked any real bite.
Sango didn't answer outright. Instead, she only turned to look back over her shoulder as she firmly planted her feet, placing her body between him and the door. "Try to get some rest."
He snorted lightly, but did not otherwise respond, so Sango held her position. Anyone who came through that door trying to get to Inuyasha while he was human and vulnerable would have to get through her first.
Neither of them mentioned what they both knew, regarding what would happen if Naraku showed up at that door with her brother.
Another day. Another round in the arena.
Sango and Inuyasha danced around each other as the demons in the audience jeered and the dust blew up into their faces.
It wasn't their first battle, and it certainly wouldn't be their last. It was a dance they'd done so many times that they knew every step by heart.
She swung. He dodged. He swiped. She blocked.
He called her weak, a failure. He dug up the memories of her village, her brother, and Miroku, and threw them all in her face. He knew all of her sore points, everything he needed to say to get under her skin, to invoke her rage, to channel her anger against him specifically… but the more routine it became, the less effective these tactics were becoming.
"Damn it, Sango!" His fangs were bared as they pressed right up against each other, his fingers wrapped around the edge of Hiraikotsu, having caught it effortlessly after she'd taken a half-hearted swing at him. "You know what you gotta do, so just get it the fuck over with!"
Yes, she did. She knew all too well what it was she had to do.
With a scream that sounded suspiciously like a sob, she jerked Hiraikotsu out of his grasp. Then, before he could recover, she dealt him a sharp rap to the side of the head.
He dropped like a rock, the dust puffing up around his body as Sango stood over him, panting, the roaring of the crowd indistinguishable from the ringing in her ears.
A mortal man, she knew, would not be getting back up after such a blow.
Oh gods, had she killed him? Had she finally taken things too far, beyond what his demon healing could handle? What if it was another new moon tonight? She… she was…
There was a loud thump, accompanied by another puff of dust, as Sango fell to her knees, her weapon clattering to the ground beside her.
High up above them, Naraku smiled.
When she heard two sets of footsteps approaching her cell, she didn't even bother to look up.
"Go away." She spoke the words into her knees, wrapping her arms more tightly around her shins. "I'm not going to play any more of these games."
"Oh, but I think you are."
Her head snapped up with a gasp at the all-too-familiar voice. It wasn't a pair of common guards who were standing outside of her cell.
It was Naraku.
Kohaku stood beside and slightly behind him, his dead eyes staring straight through her without the slightest spark of recognition. Her brother was right there, only a few short steps away… yet at the same time, so far out of her reach he might as well have been on the moon.
Naraku snapped his fingers.
Immediately, Kohaku stepped forward to unlock the door of her cell, dancing back out of her reach before Sango could even so much as think about trying to hold him. Warily, she pushed herself to her feet, but made no move toward the open door and the illusion of freedom it offered.
"What is this?" Her voice was coming out almost deathly quiet.
"This, my dear Slayer, is the part where I tell you what is going to happen next, and you respond with 'Yes, Naraku-dono'."
Involuntarily, Sango flinched, but she kept her voice steady. "What more do you want from us, Naraku? You've won. But if you think that I'm going to lick your boots like that pet miko you're keeping—"
Lifting his chin, Naraku continued, talking over her as if she hadn't even spoken. "You've been holding back."
Sango froze.
"The next time you enter that arena, you are going to give it your all, and I want you fighting to kill."
There was no need to ask who her opponent would be.
…she could end this, right now. Her weapons had all been taken away, but she still had her fists. Yes, the chances of actually doing damage to Naraku were minimal, but even if she didn't manage to hurt him, she could at the very least die with honor. Even as the thought crossed her mind, though, Kohaku raised his chain scythe… not to turn it on her, but rather to aim the curve of the blade over his own shoulder, hovering directly over the Jewel shard that was embedded in his back. A wicked smile curved Naraku's lips. "Or do you require further incentive?"
Sango fell to her knees.
"Please." She was staring at the floor, fingers curling into clenched fists against the cold stone, choking back the tears that were threatening to fall. "Naraku…" She swallowed. "Naraku-dono."
"There." Naraku's voice was a low croon above her, but she didn't look up to see his triumph at having finally broken her for good. "Now, was that so hard?"
He moved a single foot forward. Sango felt sick to her stomach as the top of his boot slid directly under her face.
It wasn't necessary to ask what was expected of her. Instead, she simply bent her head.
I'm sorry. It was the only thought there was room for in her mind as her tongue was coated with the grit of dust and the aftertaste of polished leather, all of it seasoned with the salt of her tears. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
She could no longer be sure whether she was apologizing to Kohaku, to Inuyasha… or to herself.
At first, the only thing he was aware of was that his head was pounding like a motherfucking bitch.
Sango had really gotten him good with that one; he had to give her that. Whatever, he would heal; not like it hadn't happened before. As the throbbing in his skull slowly lessened enough for him to focus on anything other than the fact that his head felt like it was about to split open, though, Inuyasha realized that something else was off.
He was in the wrong position.
Normally when he threw a match, the guards would just drag him in and dump him on the floor. This time, though, he wasn't lying in the uncomfortable but familiar heap of his own limbs; instead, his arms had been wrenched to the sides, his head was slumping forward onto his chest, and the cold stone of the floor was hard beneath his knees.
Slowly, Inuyasha forced open his eyes.
He wasn't in his usual cell. Instead, he had been stuck in a tiny little box of a room so cramped that his outstretched arms could almost touch both walls at once… which they nearly were doing, thanks to the heavy manacles clamped around his wrists, forcing his arms wide apart and leaving all of his vitals exposed.
Experimentally, he gave one of the chains a hard yank. The only thing that happened was that the links rattled weakly against each other.
Just as he thought, the chains were sapping his youki. Those manacles must be lined with ofuda. Damn it.
With no other options, he began to take stock of the rest of his situation. He had, indeed, been forced onto his knees, and though they'd left him his hakama, his fire rat suikan was nowhere to be found, his bare skin prickling into gooseflesh in the chilly air and all of his vitals left uncomfortably exposed.
There was also a metal mask strapped to his face, much like the one that Sango wore… except that Sango wore her mask to protect her from poisonous gases. This was to prevent him from using his teeth.
Not good. Whatever was going on, it absolutely reeked of some sinister new scheme—he didn't think Naraku would have gone this far solely to humiliate him.
…even if he was succeeding on that count.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
Immediately, Inuyasha's head jerked up, his ears quivering forward to focus in on the sound. There were two sets of footsteps, one of them slightly heavier than the other, and even though the air in here was too stagnant and too saturated with the stench of blood and various other fluids for his twitching nose to pick up any real scent, there was only one person who would be bothering to pay him a visit under these—
"Hello, Inuyasha. Have you been enjoying your new accommodations?"
He jerked against his chains in a futile attempt to lunge, metal and holy power alike biting into his wrists as the restraints forced him right back to his knees. "FUCK YOU, NARAKU!"
The latter only chuckled, not in the least bit perturbed by his defiance. "Such rudeness. And here I went to all the trouble of bringing you a gift, too."
"Yeah? Well that's too bad, 'cause I don't fuckin' want it!" If not for the muzzle, he would have spat in Naraku's face.
"Not even if it would help you win your next match?"
Inuyasha froze.
No matter how many times he was forced into the arena, it was still a rare occasion indeed that he was the one who fell… unless, of course, he was up against Sango, and Naraku knew damn well that he was throwing those fights on purpose. If Naraku intended to "help" him win, then that must mean…
"I'll take my chances, thanks." Despite his attempt at a nonchalant shrug, his heart was beating so hard that he thought even human ears might be able to hear it.
Naraku's dark chuckle made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "I don't recall having offered you a choice."
Up until this point, Inuyasha's attention had been so fixated on Naraku that he'd barely even considered the person accompanying him. Now, though, as she stepped forward, the keys to his cell jingling in her hand, his attention immediately snapped to her.
Her gray hair belied the apparent youth of her face—a face that might have been pretty, if not for the bitterness and cruelty he knew lay just beneath the surface. A growl bubbled up in his throat as she opened the door and stepped forward into his space.
"Tsubaki."
"Oh?" Her red-painted lips quirked upward in a smirk. "So you do remember me."
"Keh. Hard to forget a face like yours, after what Kikyo did to it."
That got under her skin, and Inuyasha watched with a satisfied smirk as Tsubaki's face twisted in rage, now no longer even remotely good-looking. "Why, you—"
"Tsubaki."
With a visible effort, she wrested herself back under control, albeit still glowering at Naraku's orders. "Hmph." With a flourish, she brought her hand out of her sleeve. "Well then, half-breed, I trust you remember this as well."
At the sight of it, Inuyasha's mouth ran dry.
As Tsubaki began moving forward again, Inuyasha could not take his eyes off of the object she held between two fingers: a small lavender shard, no bigger than a fingernail, but glowing black with an aura of paradoxical dark light.
A shard of the Shikon Jewel. Tainted. Unholy. Corrupted.
Now no longer even pretending at nonchalance, Inuyasha thrashed—fighting to scramble backward, to slip past her, to fight back, anything—but no matter how desperately he flailed, even as he bucked against his bonds nearly hard enough to dislocate his own shoulders, the chains continued to hold firm.
"Enough."
Tsubaki's free hand shot out to grab a fistful of his hair. Reiki sparked around her fingers, her nails digging into his scalp as she gave a hard yank to force his head up, until the only thing he could see was her face.
"I am going to enjoy watching you put down like the dog you are." Then, before he could retort, she drew back her hand and rammed the tainted shard directly into his heart.
The pain was instantaneous, the taint of the Jewel infecting his own youki like knives lancing deep into limb and muscle, his restraints now the only thing holding him up as he began to convulse. "You'll thank me for this later." Naraku's gloating was barely audible over the roaring in his ears. "After all, your next opponent will be trying to kill you."
It was the last thing he heard as his fangs and claws elongated and jagged purple markings slashed across his face.
Sango stood silently on her side of the arena, waiting. Though her eyes were rimmed with red and her breathing was coming out ragged and too loud in her own ears, the hand that gripped Hiraikotsu was steady.
The roar of the crowd was little more than a dull ringing in her ears. Above her, on the opposite side of the arena, Naraku stood watching, Kohaku sitting at his feet and showing no reaction as long fingers reached down to brush against his neck or stroke his upper back.
The message was clear: at even the slightest sign of hesitation on her part, those fingers could open up her brother's arteries, or pluck out the Jewel shard that kept him alive.
…Inuyasha had forgiven her every other time she'd betrayed him. He'd probably even try to goad her on, and the thought of him doing his best to bait her into killing him somehow only made it worse.
Her friends deserved better than her. But much as she was contemplating the idea of throwing herself on his claws for once and finally being done with it, she knew he would never—
The creak of the door opening on the other side of the arena was accompanied by a low, threatening growl.
No… no…
Elongated claws. Purple stripes that slashed across his cheeks. Blood red eyes that carried not the slightest spark of recognition.
No, he wouldn't understand… and this round, they would both be fighting to kill.
He moved almost faster than the eye could follow.
Sango barely managed to get Hiraikotsu up in time, sliding backwards as he slammed into her weapon with the force of a thrown boulder. The shock of the impact reverberated through her arms as the jeers of the crowd roared in her ears.
As quickly as he had hit, he was darting away, and Sango whirled around, swinging her weapon without even thinking, because right now, she had exactly two choices: fight to kill… or die by his hand.
A flash of red in front of her was the only warning she got.
He was grinning, fangs bared, claws flexed and ready to bite into her flesh. Funnily enough, that was the sight that abolished the last of her misgivings.
Inuyasha wouldn't want to live like this… and he would never forgive himself if he killed another human in this state.
The crowd let out a roar as Hiraikotsu went spinning into the air.
In a flash of red, he dodged out of its path, but she already had her sword drawn and was lunging at him with a battle cry. The tip of the blade only just barely missed his throat, instead slicing off the ends of a few long, silver strands of hair.
His arm shot out, and her sword stopped.
Blood trickled down Inuyasha's forearm as he gripped the blade bare-handed, his hold completely unbreakable no matter how hard she tugged. For a moment, it appeared that they were at a stalemate, but then, a wicked grin spread over his face.
Then, he squeezed his fist, and blood spurted out of his hand as her blade shattered.
She staggered backward, the now-useless hilt tumbling from suddenly numb fingers. Inuyasha's knuckles cracked as he flexed his claws…
…and that was when Hiraikotsu came back.
There was another sickening crack as it slammed into his side.
Sango just barely managed to catch her weapon after it knocked him to the ground, her feet skidding backward with the momentum. She was breathing hard, but not from the exertion.
Inuyasha coughed. Blood sprayed from his mouth out onto the sand.
"If you hesitate for even so much as a second…"
With a war cry that sounded a lot more choked than fierce, Sango threw herself forward, swinging the edge of her weapon directly at his neck.
The only thing she could do for him now was put an end to this quickly… and then once she had finished with Inuyasha, she would move on to herself.
She wasn't going to let Naraku keep hurting them like this.
Unfortunately, it looked like Inuyasha wasn't going to make it easy either.
Right before her weapon connected, he lunged, causing her to miss.
She let out a cry of surprise as his claws raked across her stomach, only her split-second dodge preventing her guts from spilling out onto the sand. She was still too caught up in the battle to feel any pain.
As they faced off against each other once more, he grinned. Raising his hand to his mouth, he licked her blood off of his claws.
Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sango once again went on the attack.
Her own blood smeared across the surface of Hiraikotsu as he caught it with his bare hands, wrenching it out of her grip before tossing it nonchalantly to the other side of the arena.
Even as he threw her primary weapon away as if it weighed no more than a feather, Sango took advantage of the momentary distraction and lunged, the hidden blade snicking out of her arm guard as she took aim at his briefly exposed vitals.
Blood—both his and hers—went flying as they cut into each other, the crowd roaring its approval.
For a moment, the two of them stood, face to face, her blade buried deep in his chest even as his claws scored deep cuts along her back and sides.
They were now face to face, and even though there was no recognition in his white-pupiled red eyes, he hesitated as they stared each other down, the only sound the drip of their mingled blood that was pooling on the sand beneath their feet.
A trickle of blood ran from the corner of Sango's mouth as she smiled.
"I don't know if you can understand me right now, but just so you know… it's been an honor." She shifted her stance slightly, bracing the arm that wielded her blade. "Shall we both go together?"
Her blade ripped through his chest at the same time his claws tore into her body.