Drabble Meme: Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character giving another character an offer.
Eyes wide, filled with emotion — dismay, fear, deep anguish.
Body wounded, covered with injuries — bruises, lacerations, old scars.
Sango was on her knees. She was a figure taking the appearance of a motionless heap. Her gaze fell to her hands, her fingertips that were digging into the dark soil beneath her. The feeling of dirt caking under her nails was numb. Everything was numb. Every shallow breathe hitched in her throat. Those hands of hers. They were unable to stop him. They were incapable of ceasing the mindless slaughter committed by him.
He was the one who killed them. Miroku, Shippou… Kirara. Sango’s companions. All of which were scattered about like torn pieces of paper. Their former hanyou friend had turned full-blood and, in a voracious frenzy, murdered the only family Sango had left. It was all so sudden, but not entirely unexpected. Inuyasha was, after all, in a great depression after the untimely departure of Kagome. He lost himself after the reincarnated priestess was forcibly sent back to her own time. The Bone-Eater’s well no longer working as a path between eras. None of that seemed to matter now. In fact, nothing felt of importance to Sango right now. Not even her own—
The woman was startled out of her thoughts. She had forgotten that Kouga was standing next to her. The wolf leader had arrived as Kirara was bleeding out. The beloved feline was already unconscious in that moment, from the pain and lack of blood. Inuyasha wasn’t around at that point in time. He left for a reason unknown to Sango. Kouga didn’t get to see how Shippou was “easy enough.” He wasn’t witness to Miroku’s cries of pain or the contorted visage of his face as the life in him slipped away. Sango was helpless as the monk she cared for was treated with brutality. She was worthless.
”You can’t possibly see anything in that rabid dog anymore.” Kouga looked down at her. She was covered in filth. Her back was hunched over; he couldn’t see her face. “You have nowhere to go now, right? Join me.”
The wolf’s harsh words should have stung, but they didn’t. Sango was far too dazed. Images of the morbid event kept circling in her mind. Kouga had a point, however. There was no longer a place for her to call home. Not a single place for her to run to. Twice now, her reality had been torn from under her feet. The unfolding of it all was oddly ironic.
”C’mon,” he held out his hand. A gesture so unlike him. “Let’s go.”
The slayer didn’t move; didn’t make a sound.
A tremble ran through Sango’s being. She closed her eyes. Could she join Kouga? Would it really be okay? She hardly knew him, and he her. Something— someone, was desperately needed by her, though. If she didn’t have anyone to lean on she would surely break. She was weak and it sickened her how low she had descended.
Eyes still shut, she loosened the fistfuls of dirt in her palms. Slowly, she raised an arm in the direction his voice had come from. She was blindly reaching out; limply searching for hope.
Without a word, Kouga impatiently closed the distance by firmly grasping her hand.
It was callused, yet warm to Sango. This man, he was no stranger to loss. He knew the pain of fallen comrades. Maybe he could help her. Any consoling from Kouga would be awkward, surely. But the slayer had to have support in order to go on living. Sango squeezed his fingers with her own.
Perhaps it would be alright this way.
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