Clothed once again in red hakama and white haori, Kagome made her way through the castle gates. It was early morning yet. Against the soft, thawing ground, her horse’s hooves made only a whisper of sound.

On the way out of town, she encountered an army marching up the road. At their advance, the townsfolk drew warily back. Kagome slowed her horse. The dark, sharp plates of the soldiers’ armor gleamed redly in the sun. Banners bearing the crest of a black chrysanthemum listed in the alpine breeze.

At the head of this army was Saigo Isami himself, looking regal and resplendent in his burnished armor and winged helm. Formidable, with the last contingent from his home turf marching at his back. But this was only a fraction of the force he commanded.

Recognizing Kagome even in her miko garb, his sharp dark eyes seized hers from beneath the shadowed visor of his helm.

…

“I won’t marry you,” she had said to him, the moment he’d entered the hall at her summons.

Isami had glared at her, unable to hide his indignation. “You bid me come here in haste,” he’d said angrily, after a pause, “just to tell me this?”

“I summoned you here because you’re a capable, ambitious man whom I admire and have no wish to deceive. I don’t want to make an enemy out of you by stringing you along under false illusions. I have no interest in remarrying, and never have. So whatever ideas you may have had pertaining to that, you can forget them.

“However,” she’d said, as his wounded pride had continued to smolder before her eyes, “if you still wish to rule these lands, I’d like to propose an alternative to you. A peaceful transition of power is what I hope for now, and if you’re amenable to all that entails, you’ll find no opposition here. So, General Isami, what do you say?”

…

With one gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his sword, Saigo Isami nodded to her. He spurred his horse to a canter. The army behind him picked up the pace of their march in turn. Sunlight glinted from the steely points of their upraised spears.

Kagome steered her horse aside for them to pass. The regent of Tatsumi swept swiftly by her, toward the castle gates that stood open to receive him.

…

The shrine where the priestess Nazumi dwelled lay beyond the mountains, in the old Hiromi territories.

Yet before Kagome reached the pass, she took a detour into the foothills. She had a little visit to pay.

Since asking nicely had gotten her nowhere so far, Kagome’d had no choice but to up the ante. With her reiki licking rosy flames up the walls of the fell, cavernous abode, she nocked an arrow and leveled its blazing point at the form of her fallen foe. The heel of her sandal crunched into his bony throat. Beneath the dark cowl that shrouded him, red eyes and white fangs glared out at her, the latter flecked with black blood.

Behind him, the den of youkai sorcerers lay in smoldering chaos. Acolytes ran about, burning and screaming, fleeing through rifts into the immortal realm. They were going to raise all sorts of unholy hell on the other side. Kagome knew this. But she couldn’t be bothered to care.

“The terms of our agreement,” she said, grinding her heel a little harder into the demon’s throat, making him bloodily choke, “I hereby reject them.”

Seething red eyes narrowed up at her further. “Your word…was given in blood.” Scalded by her flaring reiki, the daiyoukai hissed, only his own concentrated power keeping him from disintegrating into ash. “That mad miko…she deserves to die.”

Kagome glared. “Whatever ‘fit of rage’ prompted her to slay your kin, I’m sure it was justified.”

“You…know nothing.” The demon’s fangs gnashed. “We did nothing.”

Her nose wrinkled at the foul aura emanating from him—the unmistakable reek of a killer. “I know enough. Now hand over that crystal. This is your last chance.”

“A treaty was forged between us,” the demon grit out, “…on bond of death.”

Easing off him, Kagome saw the way his dark youki coalesced, around a particular spot at his chest. He was determined to exact this blood toll from her, one way or another.

“Hirokin should’ve warned you,” the miko said, as she aimed toward that spot. “I don’t negotiate with demons.”

Freed from her fingers, her flaming arrow struck true, obliterating both the blood crystal and its keeper.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi