It was midday by the time Kagome, Kohaku, and Kirara reached the remote northern village–a small scattering of sturdy huts nestled in the foothills of a snow-capped mountain range. Isolated as they were, the residents were understandably wary of outsiders–and especially of kitten-sized Kirara. But after Kohaku and Kagome introduced themselves as close acquaintances of the villagers’ erstwhile guest Miroku, the tension lifted at once.

“Houshi-sama mentioned that a priestess might come to offer us her aid,” the headsman said to Kagome with a bow, extending the gesture to Kohaku in turn. “But a demon slayer as well! Truly, we are grateful you are here.”

“Miko-sama,” a sad-faced woman addressed Kagome as she stepped forward, the white-haired man trailing in her wake devoid of expression entirely. “We have delayed our daughter’s burial at Houshi-sama’s behest. Please,” she implored, tears choking her voice as she dropped to her hands and knees, “come and see to her so that we may lay her to rest.”

With a heavy heart, Kagome bent down to help the forlorn mother to her feet. “Of course.”

The three travelers followed the couple down a winding dirt road, to a shed at the outskirts of the village. After tying back his own mask, Kohaku offered Kagome a spare mask for herself. Donning it with a word of thanks, she entered the shed first–her eyes stinging as much from the cloying scent of incense as from the stench of death itself. Even through the fine mesh of her mask, the putrid smell was stifling.

A few low-burning candles lit the shed’s dark interior. Slipping on a set of leather gloves from a shelf, Kagome approached the still figure lying on a table at the back of the room. A white sheet covered the victim’s body–only the girl’s face was visible above it. Behind her mask, Kagome grimaced at the sight of the girl’s pasty, bloated features, deformed by death and prolonged exposure. Long ropes of raven-dark hair spilled out across the table behind her, bent around the corpse’s head and shoulders in a coarse, spidery halo.

“We need to turn her over,” Kagome said grimly to Kohaku.

Nodding, the taijiya circled around to the table’s other side, helping Kagome to rotate the heavy, waterlogged corpse. Like all the others, this girl’s body had been found face-down and floating–fortunately for her family, in a mountain spring not overly far from the village. Kagome could only wonder at how many other despondent parents were still searching for their own missing daughters, who would never return home.

Pushing the thought aside with difficulty, Kagome focused on the gruesome task at hand.

After drawing the girl’s gnarled mass of locks aside, she hooked her fingers into the sheet that concealed her and carefully peeled it down. The miko’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in a mixture of revulsion and morbid exhilaration. Even after seeing it so many times before, the sight was still a fresh horror to her.

Deep wide gouges spanned the girl’s back and sides–creating dark, jagged canyons in her flesh. As the blanket descended further, they saw that the girl’s hips and backside were nearly torn to shreds, flaps of skin, fat and muscle overlapping in sickly, misshapen layers. A vicious mauling if Kagome had ever seen one–and as she gazed upon it, she found herself revising her theories. This slaying was more reminiscent of the earlier killings she had witnessed. Perhaps the Beast was going back to his roots–messy as they were, the size, depth, and array of the cuts certainly aligned with his signature.

There was only one thing left to confirm.

Placing a steadying hand on the table, Kagome looked warningly at Kohaku as she pulled the victim’s covering down to her knees. One nauseated glance at the black, bloody crevice between the dead girl’s thighs was all the proof Kagome needed. Her fingers jerked as she ripped the blanket back up, breathing heavily to keep the bile down–even the hardened taijiya across from her reeling away from the table with a muffled curse.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome managed weakly, meeting his gaze from her hunched position. “I had to know.”

“I understand,” Kohaku said as he pushed off from the wall, helping her to right the girl and properly re-cover her once more.

His eyes were dark and grave as he stared down at the body–faced now, as Kagome had long since been, with the irrefutable truth of what lay before him. Tucking the victim’s stringy hair gently behind her shoulder, Kagome clasped the girl’s stiff hand through the sheet and closed her eyes.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to try before we go.”

Previously, when confronted with the Beast’s victims, Kagome had relied on Inuyasha’s senses to lead the way. Knowing that she had only herself to rely upon now, Kagome had spent the intervening years honing her spiritual skills, preparing herself for this fateful moment. Entering into a meditative state, she felt her reiki swell within her–let it pervade from herself into the body of the girl whose hand she held.

The victim’s eternal soul had long since abandoned this poor mangled shell–and that was good. But with the gentle coaxing of her own soul, the miko urged what remained of the girl’s earthly spirit to return once more, to help them learn what had happened to her flesh.

As Kagome opened her eyes, a shimmer stirred in the hazy air. Seeing it as well, Kohaku’s gaze widened.

“Is that…?”

“Her ghost,” Kagome answered, watching the pale shadow as it disappeared partially through the wall of the shed. “Come on,” she said, turning to the mystified taijiya as she strode toward the door of the hut. “She wants us to follow her.”

“Where?” Kohaku asked, walking after her.

Stripping off her gloves and mask, Kagome stepped outside. “To the place where she died.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi