Together, Kagome and Kanako picked their way across the splintery rubble, skirting carefully around the abyssal hole that had caved in half the room. By the guard’s hunched-over corpse, Kanako paused. Kneeling down, she hefted up his fallen katana.

“Here, Kagome-sama. You should take this.”

The miko frowned. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with it. I can’t swing a sword—can you?”

The waif shook her head.

“Best leave it then. It’ll only slow us down.”

The sword returned dull and leaden to the dust. Shoving the cracked screen aside, they pushed together against the warped outer door. Perspiration beaded their brows by the time it gave at last with a shuddering groan, easing open just enough for them to slip past the jamb.

Bracing her hands on her knees, Kagome stood panting on the chilly veranda as her vision swam perilously again. Clinging to her at the waist, Kanako gave a scared little moan. Against the burn of her lungs, the knives in her stomach, the miko clenched her jaw and straightened, gazing out at the lurid hellscape before her.

It was like a scene from a nightmare—

Edo fortress had devolved into chaos.

Men fought and fell in the blood-churned earth. Foul demon appendages lay scattered all around, oozing miasmic gore where they’d been hacked off by swords and spears or shot off by arrows. The butchered youkai corpses fumed that much stronger, polluting the air with noxious vapors that had more than a few soldiers on their knees wheezing and clutching at their throats. They were easy targets for the hellish vultures who descended upon them, ripping their armor off like scales. Kagome squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of their muffled screaming, nausea and guilt roiling through her.

What… she thought faintly, her furled hands hanging listless at her sides. What have I done?

Somehow above this gruesome din, she heard Kanako’s urgent, pleading whisper: “Kagome-sama, we must go on.”

Numbly, the miko nodded. Still holding strong against the youkai barrage, her barrier glowed like a beacon in the distance, deflecting each successive strike. The sight heartened her slightly. Shaky at first, her descent down the porch steps gave her momentum. With Kanako in tow, she picked up the pace, their sandals squelching through the sickly mud as they hastened for the safety of town.

More than once, they were forced to change course when their path was blocked by fighting soldiers, fallen structures, or flaming debris. Fires of all kinds had sprung up in the tumult; the black demon flames Kagome could extinguish easily enough, but the bright orange ones that had arisen from flung torches or upturned oil lamps raged on unchecked. Kanako shrieked as a horse thundered past them, fleeing from its burning stable. Clutching the startled girl to her chest, Kagome stared after it.

“Jiro!” she gasped. “That was Jiro just now.”

“K-Kagome-sama?”

“Rin-chan’s horse,” the miko said shortly. “I’m sure it was him.”

Kanako frowned. “Perhaps she left him stabled for the night.”

Kagome’s head gave a vehement shake. “She wouldn’t just leave him and return to town by herself.” Her heart sank in terrible dread as she glanced back toward the many-tiered castle, looming untouched as of yet on its dark wooded hill. “That means she’s still here—with him. We have to go back.”

Kanako paled, tugging on Kagome’s sleeve. “No, Kagome-sama, we cannot turn back now! Rin-chan is a miko—she can defend herself.”

“Not from him she can’t!” Kagome shot back, wrenching herself free. “I can’t just leave her alone with that psycho. Who knows what he will do?”

Abscond with Rin? Force her to shield him? No matter the outcome, it wouldn’t be good. Rin would be in greater danger than ever, and Ren would live to plague Edo still. Kagome just knew it.

“You can go on to town if you want,” she said to Kanako, her expression hard as she turned to face the castle in full, “but I’m going back.”

Grasping her sleeve again, Kanako spoke in a trembling voice. “Then I am going, too. To the bitter end I will go with you, Kagome-sama.”

Let’s hope not, the miko added grimly to herself.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi