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resilientamber · 11 years

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Coming Home

Naraku’s defeat held within a variety of emotions and results. The Shikon Jewel was completely destroyed, Kagome was returned to her time, Inuyasha disappeared from the village, Shippou ran off to advance his kitsune arts, Rin was left with Kaede, and Sesshoumaru was…Sesshoumaru. Most important of all, to Kohaku, was that his sister was to be married to Miroku. For him though, everything had changed. He had grown used to traveling with his companions and the loss of Kikyou still saddened him. The implications Naraku had in his life were anything but minor and those finalities would stick with him till death.

One year ago, Kohaku was living in his own village, everyone around him the same throughout the year as he grew older. There would be some who died out on missions, but it was rare. Regardless, it was a happy, if pressure filled, life. From practically when he began walking, his teachings in slaying started. His father was hard and strict, but still loving. His older sister Sango took on the role of mother and sibling and was always around to boost his confidence whenever it started to decline. For all the fighting they did, the village was peaceful, happy, and prosperous. For Kohaku, he never expected anything different. To him, his future had already been planned out; after all, his father was the strongest man he knew. Then Naraku’s schemes began.

In a single day, everything was destroyed and Kohaku didn’t even know it. For weeks and months, he didn’t know anything as he was molded into Naraku’s puppet. Devoid of emotion, ruthless, deadly, everything that spider hanyou wanted. He was unsure how many people he had killed in that mindless state, but even when he regained his consciousness, he was still forced to kill. Seeing the terror and fear on those people’s faces…it had marked him and even though he knew he had no control, it still affected him. The eyes of all those people, the blood that sprayed across his body, the stench of death that permeated his nose and skin, it was all still there. Whether he was awake or asleep, it continued to plague him and the moment he stayed in one place for too long, it all came back even stronger.

It was primarily for that reason Kohaku decided to not stay in Kaede’s village. Seeing the happiness of the farmers and workers, seeing the children run and play, and seeing his own sister gain some sense of normalcy, it was just all too much. As children, they had always been close, whether it was from their father’s strict teachings and the need for more comforting love or the loss of their mother and a sense of keeping close those who had been left behind. Kohaku would watch in awe as his sister threw the bone boomerang with excellent precision. If he was reprimanded by his father for not angle the sickle correct, he would find comfort in Sango’s soothing words of encouragement. Even once when his poison mask was not attached properly and he had fallen ill, it was Sango who watched over him with her warming presence. He always saw his father in the background and loved him dearly, but it was his beloved sister he was vastly more attached to.

All that joy and memories brought up, even the chance at being with his sister yet again, it had proven too much. They had gone different directions, not willingly on his part, but it had happened nonetheless. He wanted to be around her, worse now that Naraku was finally gone and he couldn’t be used against her, but seeing how bright her life looked, he didn’t want to be a hindrance anymore. He was safe from being controlled and she wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer. It was a naïve thought, but he was still only eleven. Thus, when the first opportunity arose, he snagged Kirara and disappeared. She would be able to live a normal life with Miroku as her loving husband, but he could not see himself ever staying still. He had to keep moving, and most of all, make sure nothing like what happened to him happen to anyone else.

Of course, life never works out quite as planned, especially when it is thought out by a child. Kohaku could be more mature for his age, especially when turning up at nearby villages to kill demons, but he still had a child’s heart and a longing to be loved. His skills were deadly and precise, but with the freedom of his mind and the lack of any new real goal, his abilities declined. With one imperfect sway of his wrist, the sickle which had been with him for years was caught in the jaws of a demon and snapped in two. The creature was still quickly killed with his rarely used sword, but the lack of his primary weapon, his effectiveness as a demon slayer had dropped tenfold. He would need a new chain and sickle, but he had never been taught the ways of a forge like other slayers. His peaceful life had ended before those lessons…unlike his sister.

It had only been a week since his departure by the time he returned to the village. A place he hadn’t planned to see for months or years and he was already back. Feelings of happiness and failure warred within him as Kirara touched down on the ground just outside Kaede’s hut. Her smiling face was all that kept the depression within at bay, but even still, he couldn’t approach just yet. The daytime breeze flowed through his hair and he closed his eyes to image her arms tightening around him in a fierce embrace. There would probably be some unhappiness with his unannounced departure, but he could handle that. Yet, as much as he kept thinking that, his feet wouldn’t move. It was only when Kirara brushed against his feet and sauntered inside the cloth flap did he let out a long held breath and follow after.

#fiercecoral #yay! finally got the starter on kohaku out #I do hope you enjoy it.#He was a fun muse to portray and I think this thread will be lots of fun!

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resilientamber · 11 years

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Drabble

Note: Um this started out as set post series but then somehow my writing decided to go in a different, more angsty direction. I only intended to try practicing writing as Kohaku, and older Kohaku at that, but of course that didn't happen lol. :c I did research about how sickles work, by the way. c: So it's all fact! And basically...it became angst, and a retelling of the past. ;; Enjoy? OTL

To use a chain and sickle to the full extent of its capability, it takes flexibility, speed, and precision. Only a fool with over exaggerated confidence and self esteem would think a sickle was as easy to use as a sword. One cannot simply pick up a sickle and chain from the ground and hope to make contact with a target, much less cause any serious damage. It was impractical, but a common belief amongst many people all the same; nothing to it, more than knowing how to throw it. But Kohaku knew better. From the day he was born he was raised amongst the finest warriors who excelled in weaponry made from the hardest shells and bones that came from slain demons. He was trained in everything, from the usage of a katana, spear, daggers, from how to create effective poisons and lay out traps for peskier and less intelligent demons. The chain and sickle was amongst one of the most difficult weapons to use, however.

It took absolute devotion to learning how to toss a chain, wrap it around an enemy's weapon (or in some cases limbs) --- and halt an attack so as to charge forward and use the sickle to cut them down. That in itself took more than the average fighter was capable of. But to hold onto the end of the chain, decide on the width of the throw, take aim, and then fling the blade itself was another matter entirely altogether. This was exactly why Kohaku chose the chain and sickle for himself as his main weapon, because he knew that it would take incredible hard work and finesse to fully learn how to wield it effectively, to learn to have complete and utter control. Kohaku wanted to prove himself: to his clan, to his sister, to his father, to everyone. I want to be strong, just like everyone else. I want to show everybody I can do this!

By the age of eight, Kohaku was able to take out dozens of clay pots set up as targets for practice on top of wooden posts without so much as breaking a sweat in one strike. This would be cause for uproarious celebration in most villages, but in the famed and legendary village of the demon slayers, home to warriors known widely in the land as the strongest and the best of the best, it was not so. Sango praised him on his accomplishment, ruffling his bangs with an affectionate smile tinged with sisterly love and warmth, but his father only told him to practice harder, practice more, practice until he could throw it with his eyes closed. There was always work to be done, there was always some fine detail he missed, a small mistake in his footing or the movement of his wrist that his father would detect and critique. Kohaku would always then bow in respect and utter in a serious, grave tone befitting the master of their village and the slayers he would do as he was ordered. What else was there to do?

Inside, he could not help but wonder why he wasn't good enough, and when he finally would catch up to everyone else and be worthy of his father's praise. As much as he tried to hide it, Kohaku was deeply insecure in himself. Not only that, but as much as it ashamed him, he was scared, no, terrified of what the future held. His reputation, his being the son of the leader of his village was weighing heavily upon his shoulders, and it was growing heavier and harder to bear everyday. He knew he had to bear it, and he had to prepare himself for the day he would be inevitably joining the other slayers and venturing out into the real world, where the monsters and men met on the battlefield...still, that did not mean it made it any less overwhelming! Kohaku knew the day was coming, and within the deepest chambers of his hearts a premonition was triggered that early morning as he awoke to the pouring sunlight --- it would be soon, very, very soon. Yet, when his father clasped his hand onto his shoulder beside him as Kohaku took in the luminous shine of the shard and said it was time, he still could not hold back the sincere shock that doused him instantaneously.

"What, me?!" His voice rang loudly in the air, so much so that it positively squeaked. Kohaku normally would have blushed beet red after hearing the sound of his own voice break in such an embarrassing manner, but the reality of the situation was crashing down upon him, and instead, his face was bleeding out of all its color. I can't do this! his traitorous thoughts screamed. I'm not ready! I don't know everything I need to know! I can't possibly be of any help! I...I...Oh God...

If his father was taken aback or disappointed in the way Kohaku reacted, he did not show it. Brown eyes bored down into his unwaveringly. "You're eleven now," he announced, as if Kohaku could have possibly forgotten his own age. A big, fat lump sat in his throat like stone, which he tried valiantly to swallow around with minimal effort, but of course, failed. His heart was furiously beating within his chest like a little hummingbird trying to desperately break free, and light perspiration broke out all over his face. Kohaku gulped as the next sentence was uttered with a note of finality, marking his fate: "It's time you experienced a real battle."

Time was running out, and it was now or never. Sango was sprawled out behind him, playing with Kirara from the sounds of her soft, contented mews, and Kohaku was facing away from her, trying to lose himself as he tossed and swung his blade, and in a perfect arc, all of the pots were broken to pieces, loudly clattering and clanging from their perches and onto the ground. When the sickle returned in his hand, Kohaku did not feel triumphant. Instead, he felt utterly and completely sick to his stomach. In just a few hours, he would be leaving, suited up in armor and weapons at the ready to go. Oh, Sango, Kohaku thought mournfully. How are you able to be so strong and confident? Kohaku wished he could be more like her, than maybe father would not always be forced to tell him how to fix this, or change that. Maybe then he wouldn't be so afraid.

"Do demons really spit fire and venom?" Kohaku asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could, although the question still tumbled out rather quickly, too quickly. He cringed, awaiting her answer.

"Sometimes," Sango piped up, and Kohaku's shoulders slumped straight away at the answer of affirmative, a crestfallen sigh escaping his lips.

"So it's true..."

"Kohaku...are you scared?" Sango had caught on to his true feelings, and sidled up beside him. "N-No, not really!" he stammered out. Why did he have to be so transparent? Kohaku denied it although it was futile, since by the twinkle in her eyes as she regarded him, she already knew the answer. Sango merely gave him a firm pat on the back. His sister radiated such warmth and easy confidence, his exact opposite in every way; unlike Kohaku, Sango never struggled to learn how to do anything. Everything came naturally to her, she was a natural, born fighter, whereas Kohaku was awkward and fumbling like a newborn baby bird compared to the likes of her. Sango was easily the strongest girl Kohaku knew, maybe even the strongest person. "Don't be scared," she began with a smile, her expression eventually smoothing out to betray a more serious train of thought. "The demons we exterminate are only giant snakes and spiders and such...As father's fond of saying, the fearsome demons are the ones that wear a human form. Those are the ones we'll have to fear if they get their hands on a Shikon jewel shard."

Kohaku didn't provide an answer. As far as I'm concerned, all demons are equally fearsome. Fingers turned bone-white as they were clenched tightly around the handle of his sickle, and Kohaku's mouth was pressed down into a thin, grim line. He exhaled, and then inhaled, trying to put his own mind and troubles at ease. At least I won't be alone...And this could be my chance to finally prove myself, too...

The sharp blade of his sickle swung out and struck like a rattling snake --- relentless in its strike, deadly. Kohaku was never so completely powerless, so completely helpless. It was all in a flash, but Kohaku picked out everything as he returned to himself and fell to his knees. His face was stricken, contorted with the deepest, bone-deep regret that would haunt him for all his days. As he lifted his chin and saw what he had done to his sister, with his blade buried in her back, the grief in the depth of her honey eyes, the trembling of her lips --- something within Kohaku snapped. Jerking back into a standing position he reached out a hand towards her, his own eyes begging her to forgive him. There was a quiet, an eerie silence, as deep as the ocean inside of his own head as he ran towards her, sobbing. His vision was weaving in and out due to the tears glistening and pouring down his cheeks in sparkling rivulets.

"No, SANGO!" he bellowed out, his pitch high and voice watery. God, he was scared. He was so, so scared. There was blood on his hands, and he was so frightened, he was so shaken. In that stretch of time he spent regaining himself and flying towards her across the battlefield the terror was a merciless thing that preyed upon his soul and sucked him dry for everything he had and was. It was relentless. It was everlasting. Kohaku would never forget how it felt like to see his own sister injured and bleeding at his own hands. It was a living nightmare he just wanted to wake up from.

A volley of arrows rained down on Kohaku, and he jerked as he felt each one slash through his armor and pierce into his flesh. Gasping back the tears that choked at his throat and pain that made breathing just another labor for him, he collapsed, quivering, dark brown hues rolling into the back of his head. Beneath the smoky, purple sky, Kohaku met the horizon, the colors melting and swirling in an explosion of light, another day melting into twilight. Kohaku had never felt so painfully alone lying there, thoughts and fears laid out in the open and exposed for everyone to see. All of his life he had always felt so weak, so incompetent when compared to the rest of his village, and it'd been true in so many ways. He couldn't even try to be strong for Sango's sake, he was so selfish with his pleading for her comfort. "Help me, Sango...I'm so scared..." Kohaku whimpered weakly, and there were a pair of sturdy arms wrapping around him, and a familiar warmth settling down beside his prone form. He couldn't believe that after everything he had done, everything he had done to her, she could still hold him like this.

Kohaku was relieved, and grasped for her warmth, relishing in it for as long as he could, until he couldn't anymore.

#my writing yup #some drabble thing set in the past >> did not expect to find myself writing this!#I don't know how good it is gomen OTL but it helped me get into Kohaku's head more!#At least I came up with a neat headcanon in the process!#longpostsahoy

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