~~Chapter 6~~

~Assimilation~

 

 

Kagome carefully nocked the arrow back and took aim, focusing her energy into the softly glowing tip. It was one of the exercises she did daily to keep her senses open and receptive, and she had to admit that, in the time since they’d defeated Naraku, she had grown a little rusty. It just hadn’t been the same, and while they’d fought some youkai along the way, it wasn’t like it had been before. Fighting every day . . . remaining on constant guard . . . She had let her focus drift, and she knew it.

 

She went through the motions of training with Kaede every day despite her preoccupation and the pain that was never very far away, and all the while, she tortured herself with questions and thoughts . . . ‘What would InuYasha think of this . . .? Would he think I’m being stupid? Would he be angry? Would he think that I was trying to be too much like Kikyou . . .? Would he be proud of the progress I’ve made?‘

 

The questions were enough to drive her insane.

 

The breeze caught her hair, tossing it into her face. She shook her head to clear her vision, focusing her energy into the arrow. Releasing it, watching as it zipped through the air, she saw it all with a certain level of detachment.   The arrow struck the target dead center—an ofuda that Miroku had affixed to the trunk of a stout tree that held a barrier in place. The barrier was released with a flash of pink light. She turned away, lowering the bow as she strode away from the field as the ofuda burst into flame and curled up on itself.

 

She felt like a stranger in her own skin. With every day that passed, she felt more and more like she was standing back, simply watching someone else’s life—someone who called herself Kagome but who wasn’t; not really. Too bad she wasn’t sure who the girl was.

 

‘Was this how Kikyou felt . . . when she looked at . . . me . . .?‘

 

Brushing the thought aside, she closed her eyes and kept walking toward the village. She could hear the sounds of children playing—laughing and yelling, the kinds of noises that were timeless and beautiful and somehow sad, just the same. The sun was shining, the breeze was gentle . . . the varying sounds of animals blended with it all to create a calm.

 

Yet the more peaceful that the day was seemed, the more fake it felt, and the biggest fake of all was Kagome.

 

Smiling brightly at a few children chasing after a makeshift ball, she wondered vaguely when the last time she’d felt like smiling really was, wondered if they could see right through it if they tried hard enough. “Will you play, Kagome-sama?” one of the children asked.

 

Her smile faltered. “Not today,” she said, very aware that she always indulged the village children when they’d ask her to join them. Today, though . . .

 

Veering away from the village, she took the path that led toward the river nearby. Kaede had mentioned something about journeying to a neighboring village to exorcise an earth spirit that had taken up residence in a hilltop shrine. She’d wanted Kagome to come along; Kagome had sensed it—and had summarily ignored it. To her, it felt like everything was crashing down on her, crushing her, bearing down so heavily that she had to struggle just to breathe.

 

The sanctuary on the bank of the peaceful water soothed her, calmed her, as unbidden memories dug under the edges of her shaky façade. InuYasha, sitting on the cliff overhead as she bathed . . . It was the first time he’d looked at her with anything other than absolute disdain, and while she’d come to realize later that his curiosity had more to do with Kikyou than it did her, she’d never, ever forget the feel of those amazing golden eyes staring at her, either.

 

Crumpling to the ground beside the water, she covered her face in her hands and drew a steadying breath.

 

“Kagome?”

 

She didn’t uncover her face at the sound of Miroku’s voice. She didn’t acknowledge him at all.

 

She heard the chimes of his shakuju coming closer, and he hunkered down beside her with a gentle sigh. “You did well in training today,” he said softly.

 

“Did I?” she asked quietly.

 

Miroku cleared his throat, and somehow she knew that he was trying to weigh his words carefully. “You did,” he finally allowed. “So well, in fact, that I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

 

“That’s what expected of me, isn’t it?” she replied, her voice taking on a vague sort of monotone. “That’s all I have left . . .”

 

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

 

Kagome sighed. “I don’t know . . . I don’t know anything. I think . . . I think I’m losing myself,” she whispered, shaking her head as she tried to make him understand just what she was trying to say. “I can feel it every day . . . I’m losing those things that made me who I am . . .”

 

Miroku sighed and shifted to sit beside her. “Is that honestly how you see it?”

 

She nodded, finally lifting her face, closing her eyes as she allowed the gentle breeze to soothe her. “I . . . I don’t know . . .”

 

“You don’t want to be a miko?” he asked gently, lending voice to the singular question that had been plaguing Kagome for awhile.

 

“I . . .” With a sigh, she shook her head and bit her lip, staring out over the landscape, her eyes shifting quickly with every movement on the far side of the stream; waiting for a flash of silver, a blur of crimson . . . and when she realized what she was doing, she sank her teeth into the soft inside of her cheek, willing herself not to scream as a pang of loss so harsh, so strong, hit her yet again. It was those pangs that had convinced her that she was still alive, after all, but suddenly she had to wonder . . .

 

‘If I look down, would I see my hands? My feet? Would I see . . . myself . . .?‘

 

“You don’t have to become a miko if it isn’t what you want,” Miroku said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “We simply thought it best for you to learn how to use the power you have. What you choose to do with that power is entirely up to you.”

 

It was the same thing that he’d said before; that they’d all said before. In the beginning when the suggestion had been made, they’d all maintained that it was best to have Kaede teach her how to harness and use her spiritual power, and while Kagome knew deep down that they were trying to help her—maybe trying to distract her. In the end, she had to wonder if they weren’t also trying to change her, even if they weren’t really conscious of the intention . . .

 

Shooting to her feet rather abruptly, she gawped, dumbfounded, at the reflection mirrored on the water. Hair hanging down her back but caught toward the end by an insular white band of cloth . . . white haori . . . red hakama . . . the quiver of arrows peeking over her shoulder . . . even the expression on her face wasn’t truly her own: a blankness that she’d seen far too often on another face at another time . . . Blinking once, twice, to clear her vision, she snatched up the bow and jammed it down hard in the center of the reflection, disbursing the image with a splash and a ripple.

 

It was too much, wasn’t it? Too hard to look at herself; too difficult to separate herself from the image that had mocked her. ‘I . . . I’m not . . .’

 

Turning on her heel and dashing away, she ignored Miroku’s voice calling after her as she ran blindly through the trees.

 

Breaking through the forest into the clearing around the small village, she ignored the odd looks she garnered; ignored the voices calling out to her. Kaede’s hut was mercifully empty. The old miko still hadn’t returned. With a harsh cry, Kagome dropped to her knees, shaking her head as she frantically dug through the bag for the familiarity she needed. Clothes—her own clothes . . . whimpering softly, she pulled the clothes out with a shaking hand, yanking on the ties of the hakama with the other.

 

‘I’m not Kikyou,’ she thought, tugging and pulling at the clothes that didn’t seem to want to be discarded. ‘I’m not Kikyou; I’m not Kikyou . . .’ Wincing as she struggled with the stubborn fastenings, she couldn’t help the rising panic, the fierce surge of absolute fear that shot through her. “I’m Kagome,” she whispered, a tear spilling over; coursing down her cheek. “Kagome . . . Kagome!”

 

Hurling the haori across the small hut, she dashed her hand over her eyes and snatched up the pale pink blouse, tugging it over her head in a reckless sort of way, she couldn’t help the little sob that escaped her as the sense of familiarity of having her own clothing on buffered her.

 

“Kagome? Is something amiss?” Kaede asked as she pushed aside the mat covering the doorway and stepped into the hut.

 

Tugging the zipper on the side of the skirt up, Kagome managed a shaky little smile that was entirely too thin but would have to suffice. “No, not at all . . . I’m fine; just fine . . .” she assured the aging miko.

 

Kaede’s eyes slowly shifted around the room, taking in the garments that Kagome had throw in her haste to be rid of them. “Be ye certain, child?”

 

“Of course,” she insisted, her smile faltering despite her best efforts to keep from letting Kaede see through her upset.

 

Kaede nodded slowly, shuffling across the floor to take up a hunk of wood for the dying fire in the pit. She didn’t speak as she hunkered down, carefully coaxing the fire back to life. “Kagome . . . do ye not wish to train as a miko?”

 

Taking her time adjusting the hem of her blouse, Kagome didn’t respond right away. Sitting on the edge of the wooden platform floor, she carefully tugged off the long white stockings before pulling her bag over to root through it for a pair of her normal socks. “Training’s fine,” she allowed, careful to keep her gaze trained on the socks she gathered in her hands to pull the first one on.

 

“Ye fear that ye will lose yourself,” Kaede ventured when Kagome didn’t volunteer more information.

 

Giving up her pretense, Kagome hunched forward, wrapping her arms around her legs and letting her chin fall onto her knees. “I don’t have an identity here,” she murmured, her voice catching as emotion rose to choke her. “I . . . I don’t guess I ever have.”

 

“Of course ye have,” Kaede said though not unkindly. “Ye never have given yourself enough credit.”

 

She didn’t respond for a moment, wishing that she could understand the things that had never made much sense. “Can I ask you something?” she finally ventured, watching a bird soaring through the crystal blue sky outside the hut through a window.

 

“What is it?”

 

She made a face and hugged her knees tighter. “Who do you see . . .? When you look at me . . .?”

 

“Ye are no more my sister than my sister could be you,” she replied quietly. “Kagome, ye must forge your own path . . . and mayhap ye should stop looking to the past to better see the future.”

 

‘Stop . . . looking to the past . . .? To . . . InuYasha . . .’

 

Standing abruptly, she walked out of the hut without another word to the old miko. Blinking fast to stave back the hotness that poked at her eyelids, she knew deep down that Kaede was just trying to help her, and yet she couldn’t suppress the rise of anger that nearly choked her, either. InuYasha had done so much for the village; protecting it from youkai and other threats. He’d become a part of her life; inseparable, really, and now . . .

 

‘Stop? How? And how could they?‘ she fumed. After all was said and done, and it was so easy for them, wasn’t it? Easy to shove him back, easy to lock the memories away, to allow him to become nothing more than a legend, a fairy tale, a bedtime story for children. All of the things he’d done, the times he’d stood up to protect them all, and now . . .

 

Smashing her fist against her lips, she broke into a sprint as she neared the path—the one that led to Goshinboku . . . the one that led to the well . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Miroku watched Kagome’s hasty retreat with a thoughtful frown darkening his gaze as the breeze stirred his bangs. As abrupt as her behavior was, he had to admit, however grudgingly, that it was a good sign. She’d been walking around in an almost trance-like state for far too long, and he’d been worried that she’d never snap out of it. Even if she wasn’t in the best of spirits, he had to allow that it was a relief,

 

A flash of color drew his attention, and he couldn’t help the indulgent little smile that surfaced on his features as Sango stepped out from behind the foliage that otherwise blocked her from view. Spotting him hunkered down beside the water, she returned his smile, albeit a little shyly as she made her way to his side. “Have you seen Kagome-chan?” she asked, breaking the companionable silence.

 

“You didn’t pass her?” he asked, his smile fading as he slowly got to his feet.

 

“No . . .”

 

“Hmm . . .”

 

He could feel her discerning gaze on him. “How did the training go?” she asked softly.

 

Miroku shrugged. “She’s doing very well,” he allowed.

 

“Why don’t you sound as though that’s a good thing?”

 

Casting her a half-hearted smile, Miroku shook his head. No doubt about it, Sango was far too perceptive. “She thinks she’s losing touch with herself.”

 

Sango considered that and slowly nodded. “It must be difficult for her.”

 

There wasn’t really anything that he could say to that. True enough, he knew. It was a tough thing when the one person who had always served to give Kagome a defining presence was no longer there.

 

“Where are the children?” he asked suddenly since Sango had taken Shippou and Bunza with her and Kaede to exorcise the hilltop shrine.

 

Letting out a deep breath, the taijya shook her head slowly. “Those two . . .” she began only to trail off with a sigh.

 

Miroku winced in commiseration. “Still not getting along well?”

 

Sango shot him a dark look, her meaning clear, and he chuckled. True enough. The two seemed to get along too well or just not well enough, depending. Judging from the look on Sango’s face, though, Miroku figured that it was the latter of those options today.

 

“They fought over who got to help Kaede check the shrine,” she admitted at length.

 

“They couldn’t both help her?”

 

Kirara climbed into Sango’s lap and yawned wide before curling up in a ball and closing her eyes for a nap. “No . . . and they interrupted Kaede’s mantras a number of times before I thought to send them both off to find a few herbs that we didn’t need.”

 

“That’s my smart girl,” Miroku intoned with a soft chuckle. “Both wise and beautiful . . .”

 

The woman’s cheeks pinked at the warmth of his praise, and she scrunched up her shoulders in a decidedly nervous sort of way. Biting her lip, she stared over the water’s surface, and while Miroku didn’t shift his gaze away from the rise of trees on the far side of the stream, he could feel the intensity of her stare time and again. It was dangerous, wasn’t it? Sitting here with her . . . ‘How ironic . . .’ he thought with a sardonic little smile that held very little real humor.

 

‘I cannot change things for you. I cannot lessen your fears nor can I dispel your doubts. I can tell you that the things you seek are not impossible. The path is troublesome, but you, Miroku . . . you must be certain that it is what you truly want.’

 

Closing his eyes just for a moment as he tried in vain to forget the meaning behind Midoriko’s words, Miroku frowned.

 

That was the trouble, wasn’t it? He knew what he truly wanted, and yet . . .

 

And yet those choices that Midoriko had alluded to . . . They were choices that he wasn’t entirely certain that he could ask Sango to live with, either . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

“You failed to mention exactly how . . . charming . . . he can be.”

 

Sesshoumaru strode along the wide corridor illuminated by the ambient wall sconces that dotted the walls of the elegantly appointed office building. Sparing a glance at the hanyou who walked beside him, he didn’t pause in his gait as they headed toward the grand staircase in the center of the area. “I told you that he was a baka,” he intoned smoothly.

 

Sora’s lips twisted into a sardonic little smile, and he shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded at a woman hurrying past with her arms full of manila folders. “Was it really all right to leave him in the forest?” he asked at length.

 

Heels clicking against the cold marble floor, the Inu no Taisho’s steps resounded in the comparative quiet. “Incidentals,” Sesshoumaru remarked. “There are far more pressing matters at the moment. I cannot be bothered by the likes of InuYasha.”

 

Neither man reached for the banister railing that lined either side of the immense staircase. For the moment, Sesshoumaru’s words had taken the edge off Sora’s very real concerns.

 

At least the meeting had proven interesting. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he’d expected. After having heard so much about the hanyou history called InuYasha, he had to admit that he was taken by surprise by the surly, defensive teenager that he’d led on a merry chase through the woods.

 

“I must confess, the stories I heard did not do him justice,” Sora went on with a shake of his head as his smile widened slightly. “He’s much more volatile than I was led to believe.”

 

“I have cautioned you before not to trust everything you hear,” Sesshoumaru reminded him.

 

Sora nodded vaguely. “You did,” he agreed at length, lifting his gaze to the vast open ceiling of the skyplex. “She . . . She wasn’t with him.”

 

Considering Sora’s observation for several long moments, Sesshoumaru nodded. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Raising an eyebrow at Sesshoumaru’s marked lack of concern, Sora frowned. Of course, it bothered him. But if Sesshoumaru didn’t find anything amiss, then Sora could only assume that perhaps he was simply over-thinking the situation. “So what’s next?”

 

“Next?” Sesshoumaru repeated. Sora could feel his gaze though the youkai hadn’t bothered to turn his head. “Next . . . we wait.”

 

“Why?” he challenged sharply, casting Sesshoumaru a questioning glance. “We know where he is . . .”

 

The look he garnered for daring to doubt Sesshoumaru’s command was enough to diffuse the precluding sense of haste that had remained just below the surface of Sora’s affected calm since the altercation in the woods days ago. It was a frightening expression, full of disdain and designed to let one know when he had overstepped his boundaries. It was simple to see exactly why Sesshoumaru was the undisputed Inu no Taisho, in Sora’s estimation. “I apologize,” he murmured, making a low bow. “I did not mean to be presumptuous.”

 

“You show your true colors,” Sesshoumaru mused.

 

The hanyou grinned. “Is that a compliment?”

 

“Take it as you will.”

 

Sora chuckled softly, even as he reminded himself that the only thing that could help him now was to exercise the patience he’d struggled so long to learn. “And you are certain that he will come to you?”

 

Sesshoumaru considered Sora’s last question. “He will,” he decided, “and when he does . . . I trust you remember what you’re to do.”

 

Sora nodded slowly, his amused expression dissipating, only to be replaced with a steely glint of absolute determination. “Absolutely, Sesshoumaru-sama. Leave it to me.”

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

InuYasha dug his claws into the table top and concentrated on the idea that he really, really, really couldn’t tear the irritating human limb from limb—at least, he couldn’t unless he wanted to endure what he figured would be a fairly nasty scolding from Mrs. Higurashi, that was . . .

 

“So if you take the numerator and multiply it by the denominator, then you’ll get the product, and—”

 

‘And I don’t give a rat’s ass!‘ he fumed, glowering across the table at the oblivious Houjou who had his nose buried so deeply in the text book that he wasn’t even aware of the mutinous scowl he was receiving.

 

“—try the next problem. I’ll bet you can get it if you just set your mind to it.”

 

No doubt about it, Houjou’s eternal optimism was stepping all over InuYasha’s last nerve. With a muted growl, the pencil that he’d been gripping snapped in half, and that, at least, was enough to draw the human’s attention. “Lesson’s over,” he snarled, standing up so abruptly that he shoved the chair back with a loud scrape.

 

“Uh, okay,” Houjou agreed, looking completely perplexed as he started to gather his things. “Just work the rest of the problems on this page, then, and I’ll . . . I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

InuYasha snorted noncommittally, tossing the remnants of the pencil in the general vicinity of the trash can as he stomped out of the kitchen. Beneath the baseball cap that Mrs. Higurashi had reminded him to put on just before Houjou’s arrival, his ears twitched nervously, and he grimaced. He started to reach up to yank it off only to stop when he spotted the old man leading a few tourists around the shrine grounds.

 

“Aww, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, stopping short as he weighed his options. He could go hide in Kagome’s room, but he still hated to go in there. Odd thing, really . . . being surrounded by Kagome’s lingering scent both comforted and irritated him at the same time. ‘Damn her,’ he thought with an inward snort. ‘Stupid girl . . . can’t even make a wish right, can she? She’s completely useless without me . . .’

 

The snort shifted into a soft little whine, and without stopping to consider his actions any further, he pushed the door open and stomped past the tourists who were all staring at him with varying degrees of interest—possibly because he’d managed to sniff out his old clothing and put it on, much to his satisfaction, and much to Mrs. Higurashi’s dismay.

 

“There’s an old legend about a terrible, ornery hanyou who was pinned by a sacred arrow to this very tree!” the old man was saying.

 

Ordinarily, InuYasha might have taken issue over the ‘terrible, ornery hanyou’ part, but he just didn’t feel like spending the next hour yelling at the crazy old man, either. He kept moving toward the one place where he might find a modicum of peace, and only because it wasn’t an area that was normally part of the tour—the well house.

 

To be honest, InuYasha had never really stopped to think about why the well wasn’t part of the tour, though he had a feeling that it had more to do with the loss of Kagome than because an old dry well was less than fascinating. He felt it too, didn’t he? Every time he stepped into the shadowy building, he couldn’t help but remember the countless times that he’d traveled through that very well—sometimes to fetch Kagome, sometimes to bring her home to visit . . . sometimes just because he missed her . . . Maybe . . . Maybe he ought to have told her that last part a little more often . . .

 

Hunkering on the steps, he pulled the baseball cap off and let it tumble from his fingers as a thousand memories assailed him in the dimness and the quiet of the stagnant air.

 

‘Kagome . . .’

 

What was she doing now? Was she helping the others to protect the village? He grimaced. ‘That damned pervert and Sango better be taking care of her,’ he thought with a decisive snort. ‘Kami only knows the kind of trouble she’ll get into if they leave her to her own devices . . .’

 

That was right, wasn’t it? How many times had she gotten him into precarious situations simply because she never knew when to leave well enough alone? Jumping right into the fray when Sesshoumaru had tracked him down to challenge him over the ownership of Tetsusaiga . . . getting herself kidnapped by that moron, Kouga . . . nearly dying from poison in that damned burning shrine . . . so many more times than he really wanted to consider, and still he couldn’t help the sad little smile that turned up the corners of his lips as he remembered the feeling of contentment that he’d gotten just knowing that she was there with him. She wanted to be, that’s what she’d said, even if he hadn’t deserved her devotion.

 

‘Keh! If she wanted to be with me, why isn’t she now?‘ he fumed, shaking his head as a rapid gush of anger shoved the melancholy feelings aside. As though he couldn’t control the need to move, he shot to his feet and stomped across the well house to retrieve the carefully wrapped piece of wood that he had stashed under the platform that ran around the perimeter of the building.

 

Strange how the parcel seemed to temper his anger. Frowning at the smudgy cloth that he’d carefully wrapped around the simple shelf he’d fashioned out of the branch of Goshinboku he’d cut down, he let out a deep breath and felt his ears flatten momentarily.

 

He supposed that it was stupid. There was a strange sense of urgency that he couldn’t shake, an unreasonable fear that if he didn’t hurry, something terrible would happen. It didn’t matter that he knew damn well that nothing would be able to bring her back, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, if he could finish this . . . maybe . . .

 

With a deft hop, he lit on the edge of the well, holding the shelf against his chest, he stared down into the darkened void. He hadn’t been inside it since he’d found the letter she had written him. Almost afraid that he would find another one, he had ignored the urge to test the portal since he knew deep down that the well really was closed.

 

Settling down with a dejected sigh and a shake of his head, InuYasha carefully unwrapped the piece of wood that he’d been carving. A small shelf carved out of a solitary branch from Goshinboku, it was simple—almost plain—yet he had a strange feeling that it would please Kagome.

 

‘If she ever sees it . . .’

 

Wincing inwardly as the truth behind that statement struck a little too close to home, InuYasha ground his teeth together, willing away the familiar ache that always accompanied his thoughts of Kagome, of the time that he knew and the life he’d left behind. From the moment he’d started to fade—the moment he’d realized that Kagome had wished for something entirely different—he felt as though he’d somehow stopped living, existing on the edge of nothing. He’d lost everything in that moment, hadn’t he? His reason to fight, his feeling that he was worth something, after all . . . Somehow in the course of the years since he’d first met her so long ago, she’d quietly and gently and without his ever having realized it . . . She’d become all of those things to him, and he . . .

 

Kami, he missed her.

 

‘There has to be a way,’ he thought with a scowl as he shaved away bits of wood here and there along the plane of the shelf. ‘Just have to figure out how . . .’

 

Too bad there wasn’t someone who could just tell him how to do it. He’d been thinking about it ever since the night everything had happened, to no avail. He’d thought so hard that his head hurt, and he wasn’t any closer to figuring out if there was anything he could do than he had been in the beginning.

 

Rubbing the wood with the pad of his thumb, he sighed again and slowly shook his head, his scowl resurfacing as he concentrated on the task at hand.

 

If there were someone who knew and understood his problem, maybe they could help him figure out how to fix it all . . .

 

Someone . . . someone . . .

 

Sitting up straight, InuYasha’s eyes flared as an insular thought occurred to him. “That’s . . . That’s right . . .” he murmured.

 

The shelf thumped on the packed earth floor as he shot to his feet and stomped toward the stairs, pausing only long enough to snatch up the baseball cap as he snorted indelicately since he really had to wonder exactly why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It was all-too obvious, wasn’t it? Well, provided he could find him, anyway . . .

 

‘He’d know, wouldn’t he?‘ he fumed as he shoved out of the well house and into the hazy afternoon sunshine. ‘That damned old bastard . . . of course he would . . .’

 

 

<<< 005: Secrets of the Well

007: Modern Inconvenience >>>

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Taijya: Youkai exterminator.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from InuYasha:

What the hell do I need to know math for…?

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 5~~

~Secrets of the Well~

 

 

InuYasha narrowed his gaze as he peered up through the branches of Goshinboku.

 

“What are you doing, Inu-no-nii-chan?”

 

He grunted in response but didn’t turn to face Souta as he continued his perusal.

 

“He looks like he’s trying to find something,” Hitomi ventured.

 

“I can see that,” Souta grumbled. “What are you looking for? Maybe we can help you find . . . whatever it is.”

 

“Are you sure he can hear you?” Hitomi asked dubiously.

 

“Yeah, I can hear you,” InuYasha growled, crouching down before leaping into the branches of the beloved tree. “I was trying to ignore you.”

 

Hitomi lifted her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes and stared up through the branches. “Not very friendly, is he?”

 

“Sure, he’s friendly,” Souta shot back. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

 

InuYasha settled back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, set to ignore both Souta as well as his little friend as he crossed his arms under the generous folds of his haori sleeves. In the length of time he’d been forced to say at the shrine, it never ceased to annoy him whenever those two ended up arguing—which was all the time. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another, and that was enough to set InuYasha’s nerves on edge. They’d ended up arguing over the shade of green on a flyer that had been left on the front door earlier. It was stupid. It was senseless.

 

It made him miss Kagome just a little more, too.

 

‘That ain’t true,’ he insisted. ‘We didn’t fight about stupid shit . . .’

 

Flinching inwardly when the memories of the number of times they’d done exactly that assailed him, InuYasha couldn’t help the slight flattening of his ears. ‘All right; so we did fight over some hella stupid shit . . .’

 

He sighed. He’d been doing that a lot of late. He missed Kagome so much that he hurt. Unable to eat, unable to sleep, he couldn’t even stand the sight of the ramen he used to love. Mrs. Higurashi offered it to him, but when he’d looked up to take the food, he could only see Kagome’s face smiling at him. How many times had she brought him ramen—even times when she professed to be upset with him . . .?

 

Cracking one eye open, InuYasha shifted slightly, gazing down through the mesh of branches. To his relief, he noticed that Souta and Hitomi were shuffling toward the door. Still arguing, they were, but at last InuYasha was left in blissful quiet. Turning his attention upward, he slowly got to his feet once more. About ten feet over his head, he spotted it: the branch. Five hundred years ago, it was the one that he used to sit on with Kagome all the time. It was the branch he wanted.

 

Leaping up to land on another branch just below the one he’d chosen, InuYasha cracked his knuckles and drew his hand back. The thick branch gave easily, and he watched with a self-satisfied grin as it crashed down to the ground. The network of branches below slowed the decent, but the tremendous sound of the branch hitting the pavement below the tree echoed through the air. He dropped out of the tree, landing neatly beside the fallen limb. Drawing Tetsusaiga with a flash of yellow light, he grasped the hilt in both hands and raised the sword over his head as the clatter of footsteps sounded behind him.

 

“What on earth . . .?” Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed as she hurried over to InuYasha’s side. “The branch broke?”

 

“With a little help,” InuYasha mumbled as he shot her a dark look. “Stand back.”

 

“He broke it on purpose!” Grandpa hollered as he pushed the door to one of the smaller storage rooms open and poked a spindly old finger in InuYasha’s direction. “He’s gone mad, I tell you! Mad!”

 

InuYasha snorted and rolled his eyes. “Ain’t nothin’ ‘mad’ about me, jiijii,” he growled.

 

“Well,” Mrs. Higurashi said quickly, glancing from InuYasha to Grandpa and back again. “The tree is still healthy enough . . . but InuYasha-kun, you really can’t go around chopping off branches.”

 

“He’s trying to desecrate Goshinboku!” Grandpa yelled, stomping toward them.

 

“I’ll desecrate you next,” InuYasha snarled.

 

“Now, now . . . Come on, Grandpa,” Mrs. Higurashi cut in as she hurried over to intercept the old man in an effort to stave off the coming altercation. “I just made some tea . . .”

 

Grandpa followed Mrs. Higurashi back into the shrine, muttering under his breath about irrational hanyou, foul-mouthed hooligans, and general desecration. InuYasha watched them until the door closed before he was satisfied that he was finally—mercifully—going to be left alone before turning back to the felled branch and wrinkling his nose.

 

The branch was heavy, sturdy—more than adequate for what he had in mind. ‘It’s all that damned Souta’s fault,’ he mused as he grasped the branch under one arm and dragged it toward the well-house. He’d mentioned that modern girls liked silly things like weird trinkets that were entirely useless and just sat around on decorative shelves made expressly for displaying those ridiculous things, and InuYasha wasn’t entirely certain why, but he’d been obsessed with that idea ever since he’d heard it.

 

The inside of the building smelled stale and dusty. Ignoring the offensive stink, he pushed the branch down the steps with his foot, flattening his ears momentarily as the wood crashed against the side of the old well. It shuddered and shook but didn’t break. He didn’t expect it would. That thing had been standing for over five hundred years. He had serious doubts that anything could actually bring the sides down, especially not a paltry bit of timber.

 

Stomping down the steps after the fallen branch, InuYasha crouched down and scowled at the wood. It was simple enough to strip off the bark. It fell on the earthen floor under his deft fingers. Using his claws to carve deep into the branch, he carefully started to chip away hunks of wood, gaze glowing in the dim half-light as he settled down to work . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

“She’s doing better, don’t you think?”

 

Sango glanced up from polishing Hiraikotsu to watch Kagome. The miko was kneeling on the ground near the fire, carefully scraping a couple fish that Shippou and Bunza had caught for dinner. The two children were far from getting along. Since hearing the story of InuYasha’s disappearance, Bunza had seemed almost hostile toward Kagome. Maybe he blamed her for the fact that InuYasha wasn’t there to help him save his tribe. Still Sango knew that Kagome blamed herself for his disappearance, too, and hearing the same thing from the youngster just wasn’t something that was going to help anyone in the end. Miroku had taken to dragging Bunza everywhere he went, mostly to keep Bunza from saying things to Kagome that would only serve to deepen her depression. It helped, but Sango had to wonder just how long they could keep the child away from Kagome before he said something bad.

 

“Better? Maybe . . . she still misses him.”

 

“I’m certain she does,” Miroku agreed, thrusting the end of his shakuju into the soft earth beside the fallen log Sango was using as a bench. “She cared about him more than she wanted to admit.”

 

“Sometimes it’s difficult to admit your feelings to someone when he seems a little distant,” Sango remarked, carefully keeping her eyes on Hiraikotsu and stubbornly refusing to inflict any emotion at all into her words that might give her away. He’d been distant himself of late. At first, she’d thought it had something to do with InuYasha’s sudden disappearance. She had to wonder, though, if that really could be the case. Something about his behavior . . . She sighed. ‘Maybe,’ she told herself as she rubbed to remove a blemish from the weapon’s smooth surface, ‘I’m just reading too much into things . . .’

 

If Miroku sensed Sango’s underlying meaning, he didn’t remark on it. Hunkering down beside the log, he turned his head, staring off into the distance. “I suppose some things just aren’t meant to be,” he finally said, his voice quiet, tinged with a sort of bitterness that Sango felt deep inside.

 

“Houshi-sama . . .”

 

He turned his head slightly, gazing at her out of the corner of his violet eyes. “Don’t worry, Sango. Everything will be as it should be. Fate is unavoidable.”

 

Frowning at the sadness in his eyes, she watched as he stood up and headed off to gather more firewood. She had the feeling that he wasn’t simply talking about InuYasha and Kagome, but was talking about them, instead.

 

“After we defeat Naraku . . . will you live with me? Bear my children . . .?”

 

Wincing at the memory of those words—words that had thrilled her even as they had frightened her, too—Sango bit her lip and stifled a sigh, unable to shake the notion that he was trying to push her away.

 

‘But he promised . . .’ she told herself with far more bravado than she was actually feeling. ‘He said that was what he wanted . . . Houshi-sama never would have said it if he didn’t mean it . . . He promised . . .’

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

The forest was darkened with the shadows of descending night as Chiyo moved through the trees. The gurgle of water somewhere to the distant east drew her toward the place where she said she would meet Tadao, but she didn’t quicken her pace.

 

She was late, and he would be irritated, but that was of no real consequence. She’d heard all of his complaints before. He never had been able to grasp the concept of being patient. It was one of his flaws.

 

Stepping out of the trees near the small clearing near the stream, she wasn’t surprised to see Tadao pacing to and fro near the water’s edge. Indulging in a moment of watching him, she almost smiled to herself before ambling over to announce her presence. “Come now, Tadao. I’m not that late.”

 

The dragon-youkai whirled around to face her, narrowing his ruby gaze as the tip of his forked tongue flicked out of his mouth for a split second. “You try my patience, Chiyo. What did you learn?”

 

“He is gone,” she said simply.

 

A cold smile surfaced on his face; a hardened glimmer of satisfaction brightening his blood-red gaze. “So the prophecy cannot come to pass,” he mused, more to himself than to her.   “Excellent . . .”

 

She didn’t confirm or deny his assertions. In truth, she was rather perplexed by it, too, and while she had yet to have another vision, the fact that InuYasha didn’t seem to be anywhere didn’t offer her the same level of reassurance. It was too . . . easy, she supposed, too neat and tidy, and if she had learned nothing else during her lifetime, she’d learned never to trust anything that appeared to be that simple.

 

“This calls for a celebration,” he decided, casting her a calculated grin.

 

Chiyo shrugged and turned away. “Celebrate if that’s your wish,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Just remember that altering the future isn’t as simple as you believe. If I were you, I’d make certain that what I have foreseen does not come to pass. There are more effective ways of ensuring that than simply relying on happenstance.”

 

She left him standing there beside the water’s edge as she disappeared back into the forest once more. He’d be angry, of course. He despised it when she left before he granted her leave. She’d learned long ago that he needed her. He relied on her abilities far too much to lose his temper with her, after all. ‘Let him sit and stew over things for awhile . . . I am not as foolish as he. There is still a very real threat, whether he wants to believe it or not . . . those same dreams that foretold of his failure . . .’

 

Her pale violet eyes narrowed as she moved through the trees.

 

She could still feel the truth in those dreams, couldn’t she?

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Kagome sat on the edge of the Bone Eater’s Well, clutching the slip of paper that fluttered in the breeze. She wasn’t certain when the idea had occurred to her. It had started more as a passing whim than a concrete thought. She’d been looking through her backpack at a notebook that she’d used to work math problems, and she’d just started writing a letter to InuYasha.

 

She wasn’t sure she actually expected him to get the letter. She just felt closer to him when she was here, at the well. Unfolding the letter, she heaved a sigh, her eyes hot, dry, burning.

 

:

 

‘Dear InuYasha,

‘I don’t know why I’m bothering with this letter. I don’t really think you’ll get it or anything. I suppose I just wanted to find a way to tell you that I miss you. I think about you every day in a part of me that hurts when I remember even the good times we shared. I feel as though I’ve broken the promise I made to you; the one I made when I said I’d never leave you.

‘Bunza is with us now. He came here looking for you. He needed your help in saving his tribe. We went with him, and we tried to help, but we got there too late, and, well . . . We brought him back with us.

‘All I wanted was to stay with you. That was the wish I’d made. I ask myself every day what went so wrong, and yet I know that your wish . . . you wanted to stay with me, didn’t you? You gave up everything you knew? You did all of that just to stay with me . . . and that means more to me than you’ll ever know. I only wish there were some way I could tell you all of this. A piece of paper can’t last five hundred years, can it? Manmade things aren’t meant to last, are they?

‘I see you every time I turn around: in the whisper of the wind in the trees, in the constantly flowing waters of the streams we’ve crossed . . . I see you in the stars—I only saw the stars with you, did you know? Tokyo, even at night, even at the shrine . . . You can’t really see the stars so well there. I guess you know that by now, don’t you?

‘I miss everyone—Mama and Grandpa, Souta and Buyou . . . but I miss you most of all, and I think about the silly arguments we’ve had, and I’m ashamed. I let my temper get the better of me, always taking for granted that you’d always be there. I catch myself thinking a thousand times a day, ‘Oh, wait! I want to tell InuYasha about this . . .’

‘And then I remember, and remembering hurts.

‘I doubt you’ll get this letter. I just wanted to write all of this down. I miss you more than you’ll ever know, but I hope that you’ll find a way to be happy in my time. If by some miracle you do get this, though, know that you’re always in my mind and heart. Be well, InuYasha.

‘Kagome.’

:

 

Wiping away a tear that streaked down her face, Kagome refolded the letter and pressed it against her heart. Every day she woke up and tried to smile until she remembered that InuYasha really was gone. Every day she told herself that it was okay; that whatever was meant to be, would be. Every day she forced herself to go through the motions of living so that she wouldn’t worry her friends, and every day, she felt as though a part of her was dying . . .

 

She loved him, didn’t she? She’d loved him for a long time. Grouchy, curt, arrogant, and oftentimes impossible, she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t there, and no matter what happened back then or even now, nothing could change her feelings, could they? Nothing could erase the sense of complete and utter loss; of desperation and despair that twisted her stomach until she felt as though she was going insane.

 

‘Mama will help him, and Souta will, too,’ she told herself as a wan smile surfaced on her face. Trembling and unsure, it flitted over her lips like a feather on the wind, and she sighed as her tears prickled her nostrils. A sudden, savage pang ripped through her, and she gasped, doubling over, nearly toppling headlong into the well. She didn’t care. For the briefest of moments, she’d felt him, hadn’t she? As close as he would have been if he were standing directly beside her, his youki had seemed so real, so encompassing . . . so comforting . . .

 

“Kagome-chan!”

 

Turning at the sound of her name, she hurriedly dashed the back of her hand over her cheeks and swung her legs out of the well, waiting for Sango to catch up. “Yes?”

 

Sango hurried over and sank down beside Kagome, clutching the wooden lip of the well as she shot her a timid smile. “Kaede is looking for you. She wants to know if you’re interested in starting your training.”

 

Kagome nodded, digesting Sango’s words. “I should, shouldn’t I?” she said slowly, biting her lip as she pondered the options.

 

“That’s up to you. If you don’t want to, then don’t. Just because you’ve got spiritual powers doesn’t mean you have to be a miko.”

 

Kagome sighed. “It’s not that. I should learn how to use my powers. It’s just . . .”

 

“You’re tired of the comparisons to Kikyou?” Sango asked when Kagome trailed off.

 

“No . . . sort of . . . not really . . .” She sighed and shrugged, unsure how to explain her feelings to Sango when she wasn’t at all positive that she understood them, herself. “It’s just . . . a miko should be at peace; tranquil . . . and I’m not. I can’t help but question and wonder and . . . and be a little angry. I mean, look at Midoriko. She was a miko, and I know she didn’t have regrets, but she gave her life to fight youkai, and because of her, everything . . . and then Kikyou . . . Didn’t she pay the ultimate price just because she fell in love with InuYasha?”

 

“But, Kagome, the Shikon no Tama is gone now. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Stubbornly shaking her head, she blinked quickly to stave back the angry tears that rose up fast. “Don’t you see? It already has, and I . . . I don’t know if I can find the peace inside me to . . . It seemed so easy before. I thought . . . I thought I’d be sent back to my side of the well, or I thought that maybe I’d be allowed to stay here with InuYasha, but I never . . . I never thought that I’d be here without him.”

 

“Anger is difficult to deal with,” Sango agreed. “But I’m sure InuYasha wouldn’t want you to be angry or to be sad . . .”

 

Standing abruptly, Kagome couldn’t help the surge of rage that shot through her. “I can’t help it!” she exclaimed. “I just can’t!”

 

Stomping away, she broke into a sprint, unconsciously heading for the sanctuary of Goshinboku. Sango watched her go and sighed, heading back toward the path that led to the village.

 

Neither girl had noticed the folded paper sitting on the lip of the well after Kagome made her hasty retreat. The breeze caught the folded edges, pushing it closer to the edge of the wall. A light gust blew across the meadow, and with a whisper of movement, the paper teetered on the lip before careening down into the blackened depths of the well.

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Perched on the edge of the well, InuYasha stared down into the murky depths with a melancholy sigh. He spent a lot of time here, and maybe he really thought that if he stared at it long enough, it would somehow open, and Kagome would appear. It was wishful thinking, surely, but he couldn’t quite help himself, either.

 

He jumped into the well daily, all in the desperate hope that it would open up beneath him, and while he knew that it just wasn’t going to happen, he couldn’t help himself, either. The one day he didn’t try it was bound to be the one time it would work . . . Then he’d spend an hour or two fighting off the overwhelming hopelessness inspired by the desolation of being alone.

 

He hated the stagnant smell of Tokyo; despised the noise and the constant motion. The only place he had to escape all of it was here, the well. Even the forest that stretched out behind the shrine wasn’t immune to the ‘modern conveniences’. The sound of the trees couldn’t drown out the hundreds of thousands of noises that made up the world he was stuck in.

 

Scratching his chest—he despised the strange feel of the cloth of what Mrs. Higurashi had told him was a ‘tee-shirt’. It wasn’t rough, no, but the feel of it just felt disturbing, almost like he wasn’t wearing anything at all. She’d dealt him dirty, waiting until he was in the bathtub—also her idea—before she barged right into the bathroom and snatched up his clothes with the promise of washing them for him and leaving behind the irritating and strange things she called ‘jeans’ along with the stupid tee-shirt. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes before he’d figured out that he was supposed to wear the thin cotton short pants—she called those ‘boxers’—as underwear, and the jeans? He grimaced. How the hell he was supposed to fight in these things was completely beyond him . . . Then to add insult to injury, he’d located his regular clothes lying neatly on Kagome’s bed. But they smelled like soap and fake scents. The washing machine had laundered out the last lingering remnants of Kagome, and that . . . Well, that pissed him off far worse than the clothes she’d bought for him . . .

 

His ears flattened as he grimaced. He still couldn’t bring himself to go into that room. Her scent was still too strong in there, too overwhelming, and too comforting. The problem was that the comfort he garnered from it hurt him, too. He couldn’t help but feel completely overwrought with guilt if he allowed himself to take comfort in anything that should remind him that she was stuck in the past because of him . . .

 

The kicker, though, had been her nonchalant announcement that Houjou would be arriving within the hour for his daily tutoring session. InuYasha had stomped out the back door with Tetsusaiga in hand, and now his beloved sword was doing the greatest task of all: it was lodged through the door handles, barring entrance against anyone who thought to interrupt his solitude.

 

With a sigh, he pushed himself off the edge of the well, dropping into the darkness and grimacing when he lit on the hardened earth beneath his feet. The familiar surge of sadness swept through him, and he couldn’t suppress the half-moan that spilled over. “Kagome . . .” he whispered, closing his eyes against the darkness. Leaning forward, fists resting on the compacted dirt, he drew his arm back only to slam his fist into the ground. The earth shook, dislodging dirt that fell around him like rain. Pulling his other hand back, he punched the ground once more but blinked suddenly. His fist had smashed against something almost smooth. Scowling in the darkness, he saw the faint outline, and he picked up the item in question, staring at it with an expression akin to grudging curiosity writ in his gaze.

 

Leaping out of the well, he strode up the stairs and jerked his sword out of the door handles. Sunlight flooded the well house when he opened the doors, and he blinked for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of day. Turning the slip of folded paper over in his hand, he frowned. ‘InuYasha’ was written on one side of it, and he recognized the handwriting as his heart skipped a beat.

 

Vaulting over to the base of Goshinboku, he leapt into the branches, thankful for the cover provided by the thick foliage. Examining the paper, he scowled. It looked like it was crumbling before his very eyes. Wincing as he tried to use his claw to separate the weathered paper, he carefully managed to pry the first fold open before it broke in half. He could piece it back together, couldn’t he? If he could get the bits apart, he could piece it together so he could read it . . .

 

The next fold wasn’t nearly as easy to maneuver. The paper was just too old. Having spent five hundred years sitting in the bottom of the well—he could only figure that being in the enclosed well was the reason that it hadn’t disintegrated long ago—but he desperately needed to read whatever Kagome had written . . .

 

A sound akin to a whine escaped him as another bit of the paper crumpled to dust in his hands. All he had left was half of the folded letter—the half with his name written on it. Swallowing the bitter wash of disappointment that assailed him, he tried to take comfort in the idea that she’d written him the letter, even if he couldn’t read it.

 

‘Kagome . . .’

 

Ears flattening as the sound of her laughter echoed through his head, he wrapped his arms around Tetsusaiga and tried not to think about how often he’s sat in trees—this tree in particular—with Kagome. Too many times to count, and how often had they just sat without saying a word? They hadn’t seemed necessary, after all, had they . . .? He winced. No, they weren’t necessary at all because . . . because Kagome knew him better than he sometimes knew himself . . . Carefully clutching the remnant of paper as though it was his last lingering hope, he sighed again and let his head fall back against the tree trunk.

 

‘Some way, somehow I’ll find a way, Kagome,’ he vowed. ‘I’ll get back to you . . . just . . . wait for me . . .’

 

 

<<< 004: Ashes to Ashes

006: Assimilation >>>

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Shakuju: Miroku’s ringed staff.

Hiraikotsu: Sango’s weapon.

Houshi-sama: Sango’s ‘pet name’ for Miroku … a very archaic way of formally addressing a monk.

Miko: Shinto Priestess.

Chiyo: Thousand years; eternal.

Tadao: Complacent; satisfied.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from InuYasha:

Damn it … what did it say …?

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 4~~

~Ashes to Ashes~

 

 

Sango scowled as she stared at Miroku’s back. Striding along, using his shakuju as a walking staff, the monk stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the taijya’s ardent attention.

 

“Earth to Sango-chan . . . Are you okay?”

 

Sango blinked and forced her gaze away from the monk, eyes shifting to meet Kagome’s worried gaze. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “You were saying?”

 

Kagome frowned, eyes clouding with concern, and she wrinkled her nose as she adjusted the straps of her backpack and scowled thoughtfully. “You’ve been like this all day,” Kagome remarked. “Is something wrong?”

 

She shot Kagome an apologetic glance and shrugged, hitching Hiraikotsu more securely over her shoulder as she hastened her step and lifted her chin. “Of course not, Kagome. I was just thinking, I suppose.”

 

“You’re sure?” she asked, her voice tinged with a suspicious lilt.

 

Sango forced a bright smile. “We should be reaching Bunza’s village soon enough.”

 

Kagome sighed. “I’ve been a horrible friend lately, haven’t I?”

 

Caught off guard by Kagome’s softly uttered question, Sango stopped and turned to stare at her. “Why would you say that?”

 

Giving a slight shrug, Kagome kept her gaze trained on the path beneath their feet. “I just mean that I’ve been so caught up feeling sorry for myself that I haven’t really been listening, have I?”

 

Sango clucked her tongue and quickly shook her head. “That’s not true, and you’ve had every reason to be upset.”

 

Kagome winced. “Maybe, but that still isn’t an excuse . . . I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. You’ve always been there for me. It’s your turn to let us support you for once.”

 

Forcing a wan smile, the miko shrugged and adjusted the strap of her backpack. “So tell me . . . What’s bothering you?”

 

Sango tamped down the furious blush that threatened to stain her skin. “Nothing,” she replied hurriedly. “Nothing at all . . .”

 

“Is something wrong with you and Miroku?”

 

Sango missed a step and hoped that Kagome didn’t notice. “Not really,” she insisted when one of Kagome’s eyebrows shot up in silent question. “I’m sure I’m just imagining things.”

 

“Things? What sort of things?” Kagome pressed gently.

 

Sango sighed. “He’s been a little distracted lately . . . nothing important, I’m sure.”

 

Kagome digested that in silence, frowning as she stared at the monk’s back. Shippou was perched atop his shoulder while Bunza strode ahead of them, chin lifted proudly, leading the way along the path toward his village.

 

“I hope that we’re not too late,” Sango mused, following the direction of Kagome’s stare. “I wish Inu—”

 

Kagome winced as Sango cut herself off. Lowering her eyes as she scowled at the dirt path, Sango’s cheeks blossomed with color that she couldn’t suppress. She hadn’t meant to say that . . . Stealing a glance at Kagome, she bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were suddenly awash with tears that she stubbornly held back, making Sango feel even lower than she already did for the careless slip of the tongue.

 

“Kagome-chan, I’m sorry.”

 

Kagome shook her head and blinked furiously, a slight quivering of her lips belying the calm in her tone. “Don’t be.” Her voice lowered almost to a whisper, and she dashed the back of her hand over her eyes. “I miss him, too.”

 

Sango started to tell her that she was sure that InuYasha was fine, wherever he was. Bunza’s yell interrupted her. Turning to follow the direction of the lynx-youkai’s outstretched finger, Sango gasped when she saw it: the thick, billowing cloud of acrid black smoke rising over the trees in the distance. Miroku hollered at Kirara, and in the blink of an eye, the fire-cat-youkai transformed. He hopped onto her back as Sango broke into a sprint to catch up with the monk, vaulting onto Kirara just before the cat leapt into the sky.

 

“What do you think is going on?” Sango murmured quietly.

 

Bunza climbed onto Kirara’s head as Miroku shot her a worried glance. “I don’t know,” he replied, his tone carefully calm despite the feeling of foreboding that was so palpable that she could almost touch it.

 

“My papa’s all right, isn’t he?” Bunza asked, his eyes lit with concern and a choking sense of fear.

 

“I hope so,” Miroku said, unable to summon more reassurance than that.

 

Sango winced. Something in his voice sounded so final—too final. Without thinking about it, she reached around him, squeezed Miroku’s hand. Miroku spared her another glance and tried to smile. “We’ll do what we can, right, Sango?”

 

Sango nodded and glanced over her shoulder to see Shippou’s inflated form trailing behind them. So far away that Kagome appeared no more than a misshapen blob on the bright pink Shippou-balloon, Sango tried not to think about how wrong it seemed to her. Too used to seeing Kagome huddled against InuYasha’s shoulder as the hanyou sprinted wherever they were heading, the sight of the miko with the youkai child . . . Somehow it made Sango want to cry . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

InuYasha glared from his half-brother to the strange hanyou and back again. Defenses high as he cracked his knuckles and reached for Tetsusaiga, his glare narrowed when Sesshoumaru uttered an unnerving sound—one InuYasha had never heard from him before. He chuckled. “Be not a fool, InuYasha. This is neither the time nor place for me to see you dead.”

 

“As if you could kill me!” InuYasha scoffed without taking his hand off Tetsusaiga’s hilt. “What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?”

 

Bored gaze flicking over his half-brother in an entirely dismissive sort of way, Sesshoumaru didn’t look away. “Where is your miko?”

 

Grinding his teeth together in an effort to suppress the pang brought on by the blatant reminder, InuYasha snorted. “Keh! None of your business.”

 

“So you’ve misplaced her?”

 

“Shut the fuck up!”

 

Sesshoumaru smiled just a little though there was no actual humor in the expression, only a sense of condescending loathing. “Still as ill-tempered as ever, I see.”

 

InuYasha’s gaze shifted from his irritating sibling to the strange hanyou beside him before flicking back to Sesshoumaru’s face once more. “Who the hell is that?” he demanded, jerking his head to indicate the intruder without actually acknowledging him.

 

“Who, indeed?” Sesshoumaru replied, his expression shifting into a narrow-eyed scowl.

 

“I’m not in the mood for your games, bastard,” InuYasha snarled. “Either tell me what the hell you want, or get the fuck outta my forest.”

 

“I see you did not exaggerate about his foul disposition,” the strange hanyou commented, his gaze mocking, the half-smile on his face almost insincere.

 

“Odd. I thought I understated it,” Sesshoumaru remarked dryly.

 

InuYasha glowered at Sesshoumaru for another minute before shifting his eyes to the side to assess the hanyou. “Who the hell are you?”

 

The hanyou started to speak. Sesshoumaru’s hand shot out to silence him. “Who he is matters not. Your business is with me. This Sesshoumaru simply dispatched Sora to lead you here.”

 

“That Sesshoumaru can kiss my ass,” InuYasha growled without taking his eyes off the hanyou.

 

Sesshoumaru held his hand out. Sora bowed slightly before shrugging off the beat-up, dirty brown backpack. Scowling as he dug a black folder out of the bag, he handed it over before refastening the buckles and slinging it back over his shoulder again.

 

Sesshoumaru looked over the contents of the folder, an altogether nasty smile surfacing on his features before he tossed it onto the ground at InuYasha’s feet.

 

“What the fuck is that?” InuYasha demanded without sparing the folder even a moment’s glance.

 

Sesshoumaru’s smile dissipated. “It’s your future, baka.”

 

“I don’t want or need a thing from you,” InuYasha assured him.

 

Sesshoumaru stepped forward slowly, deliberately. The strange clothing he wore—Kagome had called it a suit—seemed to add even more coldness to his already frigid façade. Something else struck him as strange, but he didn’t bother to try to figure out why. “I don’t care if you want it or not. Times are different, half-breed, and you will not embarrass me.”

 

“All the more reason for you to shove that folder straight up your ass. As if I give a shit if I embarrass you or not.”

 

“It matters not to me, InuYasha. Sora, call him.”

 

The hanyou dug a little black device out of his pocket and flipped it open. The soft beeps that sounded as he pushed the buttons made InuYasha’s hackles rise, and he couldn’t quite stop the low growl as he jammed his hands up his sleeves to keep from using Tetsusaiga to silence it.

 

“Good day, Houjou-san . . . yes, this is Sora . . .”

 

InuYasha growled at the mention of that particular name, balling his hands into fists as he clenched his jaw and glared at his deranged half-sibling. Sesshoumaru didn’t even blink.

 

“What the hell is that all about?” InuYasha demanded.

 

“I arranged for a tutor for you, baka. Houjou-san was to instruct you.”

 

“Houjou?” he snarled, caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “As in, the little shit that used to bug Kagome all the time?”

 

This time, Sesshoumaru chuckled, as though he were enjoying InuYasha’s displeasure. He probably was. “Yes, Houjou . . . I know nothing of his . . . bugging . . . the miko, however, he was highly recommended by the university, so unless you think that he is too smart for you . . .”

 

InuYasha erupted in a low growl again. “He ain’t fucking smarter than me. Go to hell, bastard! I don’t need your help.”

 

The expression that surfaced on the youkai’s features spoke volumes about his agreement with InuYasha’s claim. “In any case, he’s definitely the best one for this task.”

 

InuYasha uttered a terse snort. “Keh.”

 

Sesshoumaru stared at him for a long minute then shrugged. “I should have known that you would be too afraid to try.”

 

“Afraid? To try what?”

 

Eyes narrowing in silent warning that InuYasha summarily ignored, Sesshoumaru raised an articulated eyebrow. “Afraid to carve out a life for yourself here . . . or are you giving up before you even try?”

 

“Go to hell, Sesshoumaru,” InuYasha growled, cracking his knuckles. For reasons that InuYasha didn’t understand and didn’t really care to think about, Sora chuckled at him.

 

Sesshoumaru nodded at the folder on the ground. “Being a half-breed doesn’t make you worthless, InuYasha. Being a coward does.”

 

InuYasha started to reach for Tetsusaiga. Stifling a low growl, he stooped instead and retrieved the file. Scowling at the strange papers, he could only make sense out of one of them. ‘Akamori InuYasha,’ it said. “What the hell is all of this?”

 

“Those are everything you need to exist in this world, baka,” Sesshoumaru said. “Take them and invent yourself or remain forever a worthless half-breed.”

 

“Bastard,” InuYasha gritted out from between tightly clenched teeth. “I hate your fucking riddles!”

 

Staring at him for several long seconds, Sesshoumaru’s expression remained impassive. When he finally did speak, his words were clipped, as though InuYasha had succeeded in getting on his nerves at last. “As I’ve stated, InuYasha: either you do what needs to be done so that you don’t dishonor your father or me, or you come to my house, and I’ll see you dead.”

 

Taking a step closer to his half-brother, InuYasha did not back down. “Why don’t you shove your threats up your ass?”

 

“Would you like me to . . . take care of him for you?” Sora asked, keeping his gaze trained on InuYasha’s face though his question was directed toward Sesshoumaru. The almost smug little grin on his face hadn’t dissipated, and for reasons that InuYasha didn’t really understand, that grin was almost enough to goad him into losing the little bit of patience that he had left.

 

“If you think you can, then by all means,” InuYasha ground out.

 

“Do not waste your time, Sora,” Sesshoumaru interrupted dryly as he turned on his heel to walk away.   “We are finished here.”

 

Sora spared a moment to bow before following Sesshoumaru without a word.

 

InuYasha didn’t look away until the two had disappeared into the trees. Gaze falling back on the folder in his hand, he snorted. ‘Keh! That bastard . . . always dishing out stupidity . . . I don’t need his fucking help! I don’t need—’

 

The sudden flash of brown eyes and black hair . . . the gentlest smile and softest laughter carried on the breeze. InuYasha gritted his teeth again, closing his eyes as he grimaced at the sharp pain that stabbed at his chest.

 

‘Kagome . . .’

 

He opened his eyes, told himself not to bother looking around. She wouldn’t be there, as much as he wished otherwise. He couldn’t stand the disappointment, and yet . . .

 

And yet his gaze still traversed the forest. His chest still constricted painfully when he saw the trees, the leaves, the rich, brown earth, and no Kagome.

 

Dropping the folder on the ground, InuYasha jerked Tetsusaiga from the magnolia wood scabbard. Unleashing an infuriated howl as the blade transformed into the beloved sword of the fang, he heaved it over his head, holding the hilt in both hands before bringing it down onto the earth with a ferocity that shook the ground. Yellow-white streaks of flame shot out of the blade, ripping deep gashes in the dirt until the flames converged, exploding against a gnarled old tree. The detonation of wood splinters and dust clouded the air but did nothing to assuage the anger that still ravaged InuYasha’s emotions.

 

Letting go of the sword, InuYasha fell to his hands and knees. Claws scraping the rich, damp earth only to leave empty indentations in the ground, he crumbled forward, rested his forehead against the forest floor. How could such an innocent wish be twisted into something so ugly, so tainted?

 

‘I just wanted to stay with her,’ he told himself, chanting it over and over in his head like a mantra. ‘I just wanted to belong with Kagome . . .’

 

He hadn’t felt quite so lost; quite so alone in such a long time. He hadn’t felt that way since . . .

 

‘Since Kagome woke me up . . . since Kagome saved me . . .’

 

Eyes stinging, nose tingling, he felt the tears rising. Squeezing his eyes closed, he shook his head, groaned softly as his chest constricted, another painful wave of desolation ripping through him with the force of a gale wind. The tears would not come. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so painful if he had at least been left with some sort of hope. What hope could there be for a damned soul? What sort of answers could he find in something that held no logic, no reason? Kagome had given him a reason to fight. Kagome, Sango, Shippou, and Miroku . . . The friends he had told himself that he didn’t need; the family he used to think he didn’t want. They were all gone, weren’t they? Five hundred years . . . They couldn’t have survived five hundred years.

 

‘Shippou!‘ InuYasha thought suddenly, head snapping up as he sat back on his heels. Sesshoumaru had lived through those years, hadn’t he? If he had, then maybe Shippou . . .

 

If he could find him, maybe the kitsune could answer some of the questions that plagued him.

 

‘Then again,’ he amended with a grimace as he pushed himself to his feet once more. The questions about Kagome . . . Had she been happy? Had she found a life for herself that hadn’t included him? InuYasha swallowed hard.

 

Maybe some questions were best left unanswered . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Kagome stared around at the smoldering embers and dying flames of the once proud lynx-youkai village. Smoke stung her eyes, burned her nose, and as she picked her way through the packed earth path, she slowly shook her head.

 

They were too late.

 

In the distance, she could hear Bunza’s frantic cries as he called out time and again for his father, for anyone he knew. There were no answers; just the crackle of burning wooden supports and the blazing fields . . .

 

‘If InuYasha had been here . . .’

 

She shook her head quickly. Thinking about him wouldn’t really help at all. No matter how many times she wished that he were still here, it didn’t change a thing. Even if he had been there, it wouldn’t have guaranteed that he would have been able to stop the oni that had laid waste to the village.

 

It looked as though the lynx-youkai had fought bravely. The signs of struggle were conspicuous even in the rubble left behind. Shippou hopped onto Kagome’s shoulder, covering his nose with his tiny paw-like hands. “Kagome? They’re all gone, aren’t they? All of them . . .”

 

Kagome swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, Shippou. I think they are.”

 

“And Bunza’s father? He’s gone, too?”

 

Kagome didn’t answer right away. Lifting her chin and squinting as she tried to see through the billowing smoke, she spotted Miroku ducking into the huts, looking for any survivors while Sango did the same on the other side of the path. Bunza’s voice was fading in the distance.

 

“I think . . . I think he’s gone, as well.”

 

“So he’s an orphan, like me,” Shippou mused sadly. “Will he stay with us, Kagome?”

 

“I . . . I don’t know.”

 

Shippou hopped down and shifted his gaze around the ruins. “Even if we had gotten here in time,” he mumbled, dashing the back of his hand over his eyes, “without InuYasha . . .”

 

Kagome gritted her teeth and knelt beside the kitsune. “You listen to me, Shippou,” she said, determination lending her voice a strength that she didn’t really feel deep down. “Even if InuYasha . . . Even if he . . . that doesn’t mean we’d have gotten here on time . . . besides that, we’re strong, too. Miroku and Sango . . . and I can be strong . . . InuYasha wouldn’t want us to give up. Don’t you know that?”

 

Shippou bit back his tears and slowly turned to face Kagome. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I can be strong, too!”

 

“Of course you can,” she assured him. “We all can, can’t we?”

 

“Kagome?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Shippou shuffled his feet in the dirt and scrunched up his shoulders, chin dropping as though he were afraid to look her in the eye. “Is he ever coming back?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know.”

 

Shippou whipped around suddenly, scanning the area behind them.

 

“Shippou?”

 

The kitsune darted off, scampering through the debris and completely ignoring Kagome. She got to her feet as he disappeared into the fog of smoke. “Shippou!”

 

“Kagome-chan, what’s wrong?”

 

Kagome glanced at Sango as the youkai exterminator skidded to a stop beside her. “Shippou just ran off,” she explained. “He acted like he heard something . . . or sensed something.”

 

Sango didn’t wait to hear more, and Kagome hurried along behind. The jingling of Miroku’s Shakuju rang out as he joined the women. “Shippou!” Sango called, glancing back and forth as her high ponytail swung around her shoulders. “Shippou, answer me!”

 

The kitsune stepped out onto the path in front of them, a perplexed sort of expression creasing his brow as he scratched his head thoughtfully.

 

“Shippou!” Kagome exclaimed as she ran to the child and snatched him up. “Why did you run off like that?”

 

“I sensed . . . something,” he told her.

 

“The oni?” she pressed. “But—”

 

“Not the oni,” he insisted. “It felt like . . . like we were being watched.”

 

Miroku scowled at the surrounding trees. “He’s right,” he agreed at length. “I can feel it, too.” Raising his voice, he jammed the tip of his staff into the ground. “Whoever is there, come out and show yourself.”

 

The forest remained still, silent—too silent. As though not even the trees dared to stir, the effect was eerie, and Kagome couldn’t help but tighten her hold on Shippou’s small frame.

 

“They’re gone . . . all gone,” Bunza said sadly, shuffling down the path from the village. His eyes were dull, vacant, too shocked to feel much of anything, Kagome supposed. As much as she hated to see the youth in such a state, maybe it was better that way. Time enough to mourn his loss later, when he wasn’t standing in the midst of the place that he used to call ‘home’.

 

“Bunza . . .” Sango began, taking a few halting steps toward the lynx-youkai.

 

Bunza drew himself up proudly, face screwing up in a determined scowl. “Thank you for your help,” he told them. “I guess I don’t need you anymore.”

 

“Come with us,” Kagome said, letting Shippou hop onto Miroku’s shoulder so that she could step up beside Sango and kneel before the child. “You can’t stay here alone . . . You can come with us, if you’d like.”

 

Bunza’s cheeks reddened as he shook his head. “I must rebuild my village,” he decided. “That’s what my father would have wanted.”

 

“Your father would have wanted you to be safe, Bunza,” Sango said softly. “My family—my village . . . they were all destroyed by Naraku. Come with us now, and someday you can come back here and rebuild your village, but in order to do that, you have to live, right?”

 

Bunza stared at Sango for a moment but finally nodded. “Humans are weak,” he decided as a quickly dashed a trembling hand over his eyes. “I can protect you.”

 

Kagome watched as Sango picked up the youth and hugged him close. The look on the slayer’s face tore at Kagome’s heart, and she choked back a wash of tears. Did it matter how many years it had been since Sango had first lost her village? No, Kagome supposed it didn’t. In the end, the pain would always be there, just below the surface, and maybe the only thing that made it bearable was the support of those that she called her friends.

 

‘InuYasha . . . I miss you . . .’

 

“Let’s go,” Miroku finally interrupted, though not unkindly. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

 

They trudged along the path in silence, oblivious to the pale violet eyes that peered out at them from the darkest shadows of the trees.

 

 

<<<003: Filling the Void

005: Secrets of the Well >>>

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Sora: Sky.

Shakuju: Miroku’s staff.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from Shippou:

I know I sensed something there …

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 3~~

~Filling the Void~

 

 

InuYasha wrinkled his nose and glared at the clothes lying on Kagome’s bed. Standing in the doorway of the entirely too-familiar room, he could feel the emptiness in the air and stifled a sigh. Mrs. Higurashi had bought him clothes to help him ‘fit in’, and he knew she was trying to be helpful but it didn’t alleviate the bitter stab of resentment that surged in him.

 

‘Kagome . . . didn’t care that I didn’t ‘fit in‘.

 

Out of sight, out of mind, or however that saying went . . . The only thing that Kagome seemed to mind was that other people would see his dog ears, and since the initial reaction to those in the modern age was for people to want to touch them, he didn’t mind wearing the baseball cap. She never asked him to dress differently. She never really asked for much.

 

‘Ain’t nothing wrong with my fire rat clothes,’ he grumped as he turned away from the room and stomped toward the stairs. ‘I ain’t wearing those. No one can make me! Keh!‘

 

Souta was lying on his stomach in the living room, playing one of his ‘video games’ with Hitomi. There had been a few times before, when the boy would try to get InuYasha to play, too.

 

“Inu-no-nii-chan, you can play the winner,” Souta offered without looking at the hanyou.

 

“That’ll be me,” Hitomi assured him.

 

Souta scowled at the girl and rolled his eyes. “Fat chance! You stink at this game!”

 

“Oh, really? Then who beat whom the other day at the arcade? That’s right; it was Hitomi-chan, wasn’t it?”

 

“Because I let you!”

 

“You did not!”

 

InuYasha’s decisive snort went unheeded by the arguing youngsters as he tried not to remember the same sort of petty arguments that normally ended with an irritated miko yelling the word that InuYasha both despised and somehow craved. “Osuwari!”

 

‘Keh! I don’t miss that, damn it! Why the fuck would I miss that, of all things?‘

 

Still the emptiness surged inside him as the ache of missing her grew more intense, uglier.

 

“You’re such a pain, Hitomi-chan!”

 

“And you’re such a baka, Souta-kun!”

 

‘Playing’s for pups,’ InuYasha thought sourly, ignoring the argument that struck a little too close to home. ‘I ain’t got time for that.’

 

He didn’t, not really. Spending all his waking moments trying to concoct a way to reopen the Bone Eater’s Well, to find a way back to the past—to Kagome . . . Those thoughts were the things that kept him moving, kept him thinking, drove him like the threat of Naraku never had. To think that there really wasn’t any way to get back to her would be akin to giving up, and, well, InuYasha had never been very good at that, either.

 

Grandpa Higurashi shuffled through the back door, eyes shifting around the living room as though he were looking for something in particular. His gaze lit on InuYasha and stuck. The hanyou’s ears twitched as the man drew near, as he reached into his shirt and pulled out an ofuda.

 

InuYasha glared menacingly at the old man. He didn’t trust the strange look in Grandpa’s eyes, and when the old man raised the paper charm to put it on InuYasha, he drew his lips back in a fierce snarl meant to ward off the action. Grandpa ignored the obvious warning, slapping the paper on InuYasha’s head. InuYasha pulled it off and crumpled it in his fist. “I told you, old man, your stupid little pieces of paper don’t work on me!”

 

Grandpa grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Next time it will,” before shuffling off toward the kitchen.

 

‘We’ll see about that,’ InuYasha thought with a decisive snort. ‘Yeah, it ain’t happening . . . the only one who could purify or seal me is Kagome, and she ain’t—’ His ears drooped as he cut himself off. Glancing around quickly to ascertain that no one else had noticed his momentary lapse, he made a face. ‘She ain’t here. Stupid Kagome . . .’

 

It confused him a little. Since finding out that Kagome hadn’t made it back after purifying the Shikon no Tama, her grandfather had been almost hostile toward him. InuYasha didn’t care—at least, that’s what he told himself. He only wished he knew why. It was almost as if the old man blamed him for Kagome staying in the past, and in a way, it was true. InuYasha strode toward the doors, figuring that Goshinboku was the best place to be at the moment. At least he would be safe from little brothers and irritated grandfathers. Then he could think in peace.

 

Leaping into the highest branches to hide in the relative tranquility of the God Tree, InuYasha settled back with a dejected snort, thrust his arms together in the sleeves of the haori. He figured he had a good hour or two before Mrs. Higurashi came looking for him. She had an annoying habit of doing that at odd moments during the day. She always stared at him with a slight frown, as if she thought he was going to sprout another four heads and start breathing fire.

 

He knew that the Shikon no Tama had been the reason the well had been allowing the time travel in the first place. He could understand that, he supposed. It hadn’t really surprised him when the well had closed. To be completely honest, he’d rather expected it. He just hadn’t expected Kagome to wish to stay in his time. Why should she? Sure, Sango, Miroku, and Shippou were there, but her family was here. Her friends were here. All her modern conveniences and those things she couldn’t seem to live without were here—things like shampoo and the rest of the things that she loved to remind him of on a daily basis.

 

Even then . . .

 

Even then, the worst of it all was the feeling that he was absolutely useless here. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but there just weren’t the numbers of youkai these days—if there were any at all—which he was seriously starting to doubt. But that didn’t make sense, did it? Youkai were strong. There was no way that they’d be extinct.

 

Nope, the one in real danger from youkai was Kagome, and that was one of the many thoughts that tended to keep him up at night, too. Sure, she had Miroku and Sango with her, and he knew damn well that they would look after her, but he was the one, wasn’t he? The one who always rushed in, the one who always saved Kagome.

 

‘Sure, except you’re underestimating her—again.’

 

InuYasha snorted indelicately. ‘No way! She’s just a pathetic human—and a girl! She cries at everything, remember? And she never shuts up . . . Maybe she could blab the youkai to death . . .’

 

Then he sighed. The truth of it was that as much as InuYasha liked to think that Kagome needed his protection, she didn’t, not really. He’d started suspecting early on that she chose to let him protect her, and maybe she understood that somewhere deep down, someplace hidden in the confines of his psyche, maybe he needed to protect her. She was smart, she was strong . . . and maybe InuYasha was the one who really needed Kagome far more than Kagome had ever needed him.

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

“Did not.”

 

“Did, too.”

 

“Did not.”

 

“Did, too.”

 

“I did not, you liar!”

 

“You did, too, you baka!”

 

“I don’t think it matters, which one of you emptied the last water bottle,” Sango interrupted reasonably. “We’ll refill them as soon as we stop for the night. It isn’t a problem.”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes as she hitched her bow over her shoulder and spared a glance behind her at the fighting youkai children. Bunza sat on Sango’s lap, sticking his tongue out at the kitsune, while Shippou crouched on Miroku’s shoulder, glowering back at the lynx-youkai. They really couldn’t seem to stand one another, and Kagome wasn’t entirely sure why it would be so. As though they were vying for some sort of rank in the social hierarchy of the group, Shippou and Bunza were wearing on her already thin nerves. She wished they would just stop bickering.

 

“That’s enough, you two,” Miroku said, heaving an audible sigh as he slowly shook his head. “This looks like as good a place as any to make camp.”

 

Kagome dropped her backpack and rummaged around for the water bottles. “I don’t like him, Kagome,” Shippou said as he scampered over to her side. “He’s shifty . . . How do we know InuYasha really helped him before? We don’t, do we? We can’t trust just anyone, right?”

 

“Shippou,” Kagome began in a warning tone. “He’s just a little boy like you. I’m sure you’ll be friends once you get to know him.”

 

Shippou wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms over his chest and reminding Kagome of InuYasha during one of his stubborn moments. “Here,” she said, digging a packet of pocky out of one of the last boxes in her backpack. “Why don’t you try to make peace with Bunza? I’m sure he’d like pocky as much as you do.”

 

The kitsune looked appalled at the suggestion that he share his precious snack with the lynx. Kagome stood up with the water bottles, ruffled Shippou’s russet hair as she shot him an encouraging smile before heading off to find the stream.

 

The late afternoon sunshine reflected off the rippling water as a sultry heat brought an instant sheen of sweat to Kagome’s brow. Wishing that she’d taken the time to change into a cooler blouse, she couldn’t help wondering how warm it was back home; couldn’t help wondering how InuYasha was adjusting to life on the other side of the Bone Eater’s Well. Hunkering down beside the water’s edge, Kagome rinsed the water bottles before she began to fill them.

 

“Those two get along as well as InuYasha and Kouga on their best day,” Sango remarked as she stepped out of the trees to kneel beside Kagome next to the stream. Taking up an empty bottle, the youkai exterminator wiped her brow and blew out a breath of air that sent her bangs flying up off her forehead. “You’ve been quiet,” she remarked, trying for a casual tone of voice.

 

Kagome tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. Sango tilted her head in a compassionate sort of way, and the gesture only served to make Kagome feel that much worse. “Sorry, Sango-chan . . . I guess I’ve just not been in the most talkative of moods lately.”

 

“It’s okay. We all understand. We miss him, too . . . even Kirara does.”

 

“I feel so stupid,” Kagome admitted, gazing at the water, at the silvery glints of sunlight that reminded her of InuYasha’s hair, of the way it blew behind him, rippling in the breeze as he ran through the forest. “I’ll bet he blames me for being there. I blame myself for him being there . . .”

 

“That’s not true. How were you to know that he’d want to go to your time?”

 

Kagome smiled sadly, digging a rumpled kerchief out of her pocket and dipping it into the tepid water. “That’s just it, you know? He always complained about my time. Too noisy, too smelly . . . too crowded . . . I never thought he’d choose it. I never thought . . .” She shrugged and squeezed the excess moisture out of the kerchief before wiping her face. “What do you think he’s doing right now? Do you think . . . do you think he misses us, just a little?”

 

“Kagome, of course he does! He chose your time because of you. He must have believed you’d choose it, too. Then you’d have been together.”

 

Sango was right, and Kagome knew it. Still it offered little in the way of consolation when there was no way to fix the wishes gone wrong. In the two days since they’d left the village to help Bunza’s clan, Kagome had started to come to grips with the idea that InuYasha might not be able to come back at all. She didn’t want to believe it. She also couldn’t think of a single way to change it. The well was closed. Midoriko had said as much, and while InuYasha might have lived through the five hundred years separating them if the situation were reversed, Kagome wouldn’t be able to do that.

 

“It’s so stupid,” Kagome mumbled with a shake of her head. “Just . . . stupid, you know?”

 

Sango sighed and shook her head. Kagome could see it in her friend’s gaze. Sango felt helpless, as though nothing she could say or do would really make a difference, at all. Maybe it wouldn’t, but it did help to know that she was surrounded by people who loved her. Sango, Miroku, and Shippou . . . they were as close as family.

 

‘InuYasha . . . will you find that, too?‘

 

Thinking about that brought the memory of her mother’s face to mind. Sharp and poignant, Kagome couldn’t quite grasp the idea that she really wouldn’t see her again. ‘Mama will help you, InuYasha . . . She’ll do it because that’s what Mama does. I don’t think she’ll be able to help herself, but maybe you’ll help her, too . . . Maybe you’ll help her so she doesn’t miss me . . .’

 

Kagome shifted her gaze toward the hazy blue sky. ‘Such a perfect evening,’ she thought with a stifled sigh as she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. How often had InuYasha and she sat on evenings such as these, content to stare off into the distance from the highest boughs of Goshinboku? No words had ever been spoken. They hadn’t really needed them back then. It was enough to sit beside him, to accept the quiet comfort of his presence.

 

She felt like a child all over again. She felt the same uncertainty and fear she knew on that first day of school long ago. Staring at the strange faces of the other children in her class, she’d wanted her mother to take her back to the safety and security of the shrine. In the end she’d been fine, of course. Kagome had never forgotten that feeling of dread—the same one she felt again years later after she’d fallen through the Bone Eater’s Well in the time before she had met InuYasha . . .

 

The same sky felt emptier now. The world seemed darker and somehow sadder. Still, she knew that with every second that passed, every minute that slipped away, the memories she held so dear—so vivid in her mind—would fade with time until all that was left was the thin wisp of a hazy vision, and the cherished memory of sensations that might make her stop and think and wonder. She would remember his name. She would remember that she loved him. Would he remember her? ‘Such a sense of serenity . . . but I can’t find any real comfort in it, at all . . .’

 

The fluffy clouds resembled the shape of a surly hanyou, and the smell on the wings of the subtle breeze smelled like him: like InuYasha.

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

“She’s not doing as well as she wants us to believe,” Sango said softly, staring across the dancing flames of the campfire at the sleeping miko.

 

Miroku stifled a sigh and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Of course she isn’t. She misses him, as we all do. They’ve always shared a special bond. It stands to reason she misses him more.”

 

“A special bond?” Sango echoed as Kirara curled up on her lap. “She loves him. She’s loved him forever.”

 

“Small comfort that he verified what we all suspected,” Miroku agreed. “His actions proved it, didn’t they? He chose to be with Kagome, but he never thought . . .” He trailed off and shook his head, sighed as he turned his head to stare at Bunza, who was curled up on a blanket nearby.

 

She fell quiet for a moment, her gaze careful, direct as she slowly stroked the fire-cat’s fur. “What’ll become of her, without InuYasha? She chose to stay here because of him, but . . . But he’s not here, and I don’t think . . . He can’t come back, can he?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Miroku agreed. “I don’t know of anyone who could reopen a time slip.”

 

“I just wish there was something we could do.”

 

“I know what you mean. I feel that way, too. There isn’t really anything we can do for Kagome, aside from being her friends. She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”

 

“I know. It just makes me angry,” Sango said suddenly, vehemence thinning her voice to a hiss as her eyes sparked dangerously. Miroku winced inwardly. He’d seen that look one time too many. Her fire, her passion, the same fierce determination . . . He adored that about her. He adored everything about her . . . “Why would Midoriko do such a thing? She had to have known, didn’t she?”

 

“I don’t know, Sango. We can’t ask her. She had to have had her reasons.”

 

“Houshi-sama . . .”

 

He could feel her troubled gaze but didn’t dare to look at her.

 

“What did Midoriko say to you?”

 

‘I cannot change things for you. I cannot lessen your fears nor can I dispel your doubts. I can tell you that the things you seek are not impossible. The path is troublesome, but you, Miroku . . . you must be certain that it is what you truly want.’

 

Shaking off the sadness inspired by Midoriko’s words, Miroku forced a half-smile as he tossed another log onto the fire. “It’s not important, Sango. Don’t worry about it.”

 

She looked like she wasn’t sure what to believe. His words were confident enough, but he knew that she could see right through his attempt to evade her question. He didn’t doubt for a second that she was far from buying his feeble attempts to placate her.

 

“It’s hard to believe that the Shikon no Tama is gone, isn’t it?” she finally asked. “It seems strange. I want to be happy, but . . .” Her words died away as her gaze returned to Kagome’s sleeping form again. Sango sighed and shook her head. “Maybe it was true. Maybe what we did to purify it . . . maybe it was our faults.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Miroku replied. “It’s all right to be happy. You lost your village and your family because of Naraku’s evil wish to possess the jewel. You’ve earned the right.”

 

“Not all of my family,” she ventured quietly. Her gaze fell to her hands, clasped in her lap.

 

“He’ll come back eventually,” Miroku told her.

 

Sango sighed and bobbed her shoulders as a hint of a blush crept up her cheeks. “I sound so petty, don’t I? I should just be glad—thankful—that Kohaku lived, and here I am, whining because he is off on his own . . .”

 

“I don’t think that’s whining, and I don’t think you’re petty, either,” Miroku said gently. “Maybe, instead of dwelling on the idea that he’s out there alone, you should think about the things you want to do.”

 

“Like what?” she asked, her tone more questioning than challenging.

 

Miroku considered it before answering. “I don’t know, Sango . . . Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

 

“I want to restore my people,” she replied automatically. “When I think about my village . . . when I think about the sadness that lives there . . .” Trailing off with a sigh, she shook her head. “I want there to be laughter again. I want to be able to smile when I think about it—when I look at it.”

 

Miroku chuckled. “I think that’s a fine ambition, Sango.”

 

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. He could sense a definite lightening in the air surrounding her, and while he knew that she wouldn’t delude herself into thinking that it would be easy, he did know that there was no one quite like her once she set her mind to something.

 

“And you?” she asked at length.

 

“Me?”

 

She nodded. “What is it that you want, houshi-sama?”

 

Miroku smiled as Sango’s gaze rose to meet his. Reluctant, unsure, her body seemed to whisper things that his mind tried desperately to ignore. It was the closest they’d been since the night they had gathered to purify the jewel. Too worried about Kagome to concentrate on anything else, Miroku and Sango’s moments had been few and far between since the mishap. There were still too many things that Miroku wasn’t sure he could ask of her, too many sacrifices that she would have to make. She would choose to make them, wouldn’t she? She’d smile and say it was her choice, after all.

 

Miroku shifted his gaze away, unable to voice his concerns. If there were no answers for InuYasha and Kagome, what were the odds that there would be any for the likes of him? “That’s simple,” he said, his tone deliberately teasing her. “I have earned the right to sleep. Between Shippou and Bunza, it’s been a really, really long day, don’t you think?”

 

Sango was caught off-guard by his flip answer. For a moment, he thought she was going to call him on the intentional sidestepping of her question. In the end, she stretched out on her blanket. Kirara curled up in a ball of fur beside her.

 

Miroku stared at the fire for a long time. When he glanced over at Sango, she was asleep.

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

InuYasha kicked a rock as he wandered through the familiar forest, trying to ignore the strange sense of emptiness that surrounded him. Located behind the shrine, he’d sought refuge here after Mrs. Higurashi’s well-meaning but unwelcome attempts to cajole him into trying on the clothes she’s purchased for him. All of the animals that used to roam the same forest were gone, chased away by too many humans, by the smelly air of the hulking buildings that loomed over the top of the trees: the city of Tokyo. It used to be his forest. It used to be filled with birds and animals, and even the trees were silent now, relegated to the role of little more than nuisances that hindered the further development of the vast city.

 

He’d never understand this time, and without Kagome, he didn’t really want to.

 

The feeling of utter helplessness was something that nearly killed him. Used to being able to fight through whatever opposition came his way, the foreign sense that the situation was entirely beyond his control was enough to put him on edge. For the first time in his life, the antagonist was something he couldn’t touch or see or smell. He couldn’t track it, he couldn’t hunt it, he couldn’t confront it. ‘How the hell am I supposed to defeat it?‘ It wasn’t as simple as a youkai, standing between Kagome and him. No amount of hollering or fighting was going to change it. Digging in the well until his fingers bled under his claws didn’t work, either. He’d tried everything he could think of. He’d run out of ideas.

 

Kagome.

 

What was she doing now? Did she miss him? Did she worry about him? Was she trying to figure out a way to get to her time?

 

Mrs. Higurashi had mentioned that she was checking into finding a tutor for InuYasha. He hadn’t really understood what that meant, but as she kept talking, he had gotten the distinct feeling that whatever she meant couldn’t possibly be good. She said that since they didn’t really know how long InuYasha would be staying with them, that it was safest to assume that he’d be there indefinitely, and if that were the case, then he’d need to have an education.

 

He did understand what education meant. It meant the same to him that it had to Kagome: tests and exams and stupid books. ‘Keh! Over my dead body,‘ he grumbled, stomping a little faster as he flicked his ears and glowered at the sparse grass on the forest floor. He hated when Kagome ignored him in favor of studying. There was no way in hell he was going to do the same thing . . .

 

But the main reason he didn’t want to cooperate was the irrational notion that in doing so, he would be accepting his fate, and if he accepted that, then it meant that he never really was meant to be with Kagome, didn’t it? It meant that he would have to give up hope.

 

‘Stupid Kagome . . . What was she thinking? She knew I’d choose to be here with her. She had to have known. Why does she always have to be so difficult? I swear she did this on purpose. Some sort of stupid trick of hers, ain’t it? She’s always trying to push me . . . I’ll bet she did this just to piss me off! Well, I’ll show her! I . . . I don’t care! Why should I care when she didn’t? If she did, she’d be here, too, wouldn’t she? If she cared . . . Wench . . .’

 

He sighed, scowl dissipating as InuYasha’s ears flattened against his head. It was simpler to be angry with her than it was to let himself feel anything else. It was easier to deal with that. It was far less complicated to tell himself that she didn’t care, that she’d done all this on purpose. Irritation and rage were things he knew. Those emotions had always worked to cover the truth of his feelings. Kagome had peeled away those layers, had uncovered a vulnerability that InuYasha truly despised. In the time they’d spent together, he’d allowed Kagome to see more of his heart, more of his emotions, than he’d ever showed a single soul.

 

He needed a good fight. Unused to living in a time and place where youkai were either unseen or had ceased to exist, InuYasha’s outlet for his pent-up frustration had been taken away. At least if he were still in the past, he’d only have to go so far as to search out his bastard of a half-brother. Always willing to oblige him in a decent fight, InuYasha figured that was Sesshoumaru’s single saving grace. Then, too, he could have looked for Kouga . . .

 

At the thought of the wolf-youkai tribe’s leader, InuYasha stopped and uttered a low growl. ‘Damn that Kouga . . . He’d better stay the hell away from Kagome . . . Knowing that coward, he’ll be sniffing around her just as soon as he figures out I’m not there . . .’

 

Wincing as the memory of Kouga, holding Kagome in his arms after the mangy wolf kidnapped her so long ago, InuYasha’s growl escalated as he cracked his knuckles. Kagome didn’t like Kouga—at least, not that way—but that hadn’t ever stopped Kouga from trying, and InuYasha didn’t even try to delude himself into thinking that the wolf-youkai wouldn’t try it again, especially when he found out that InuYasha was gone.

 

‘Yeah, that ain’t happening,’ InuYasha snarled. ‘I’ll kill Kouga if he tries anything . . . See if I don’t!‘

 

A streak of movement off to the right caught his attention, and he turned his head. ‘Who the hell is that, and what the fuck is he doing in my forest?‘ InuYasha thought with a scowl as he cracked his knuckles and darted toward the blurry figure running through the trees. ‘Youkai? No . . . hanyou . . .’

 

InuYasha sneezed and lifted his sleeve to cover his nose as he chased after the hanyou. He stank—really stank—-smelled like a mix of scents, and not one of the scents seemed natural. It was almost as though he were hiding his true scent, but the odor of the fumes emanating from the strange hanyou prevented InuYasha from even beginning to discern a thing. Silvery hair and hanyou dog ears, and when the hanyou looked back over his shoulder, InuYasha narrowed his gaze. Golden eyes, a knowing grin . . . There was a familiarity about the hanyou that InuYasha couldn’t place. ‘Who the hell is that?‘ he asked himself again as he increased his speed, as he sprinted after the stranger.

 

Cresting a low rise that dropped sharply to create a small gully, InuYasha skidded to a halt as the hanyou he’d been chasing stopped beside the one being InuYasha hadn’t bargained on ever having to see again.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

Amber eyes lit with unabashed amusement flicked coolly over InuYasha and dismissed him just as quickly as InuYasha fought down the fierce growl that welled in his throat.

 

“It’s been a long time—worthless half-breed.”

 

 

<<< 002: Changes

004: Ashes to Ashes >>>

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Ofuda: paper charm.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from InuYasha:

Who the hell is that?

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 2~~

~Changes~

 

 

“I see.”

 

InuYasha jammed his arms up the sleeves of his haori as he tried to keep his ears from flattening against his head while sitting on the kitchen floor next to the doorway with his knees up to his chest and his hands on the floor between his feet.

 

Mrs. Higurashi’s face was pale and drawn, ashen, and InuYasha winced as he noticed the trembling in her hands as she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “So you don’t think she can get back through.”

 

Swallowing hard to force down the thickening in his throat, InuYasha jerked his head once in answer. “The well’s closed. I checked it.”

 

She sighed, licking her lips before pressing them together in a thin line. “I don’t understand,” she began in a quiet monotone, “I don’t see how this could have happened.”

 

‘Because,’ he thought as he scowled at the floor. ‘I was careless . . . I thought . . . and she . . . Damn that Kagome . . . always doing stupid shit, and now . . .’

 

Mrs. Higurashi pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to the cupboard, rummaging around until she located a big Styrofoam cup of instant ramen. It didn’t take long for her to open the container and dump in the boiling water. Her actions reminded InuYasha of her daughter, of how Kagome would do things simply to keep herself from having to think about things that troubled her.

 

The smile that surfaced on Mrs. Higurashi’s face was somehow horrifying to him. As thin and weak as a grimace . . . “You must be hungry, right? We already ate, but . . . You’re probably starving.”

 

InuYasha ducked his head at the smooth tone, the calmness that she used to hide her emotions. ‘What the fuck is wrong with her? I just told her Kagome ain’t coming back, and . . . and she’s making me ramen? What the hell is she doing?‘

 

“Do you have a place to go, InuYasha?” Uttering a terse little laugh, the woman waved a hand dismissively, as though she’d figured something out on her own. “Of course you don’t, do you? You can stay here, naturally. Souta and Grandpa . . . and I . . . we’d really like for you to stay.”

 

“Thank you,” he grumbled, ears flattening for a moment before he willed them to pop up again.

 

Mrs. Higurashi sighed again, her gaze rising to stare out the window at the darkness . . . at Goshinboku’s leaves swaying in the summer night. “You can stay in K-Kagome’s room,” she said at last, her voice faltering when she tried to say her daughter’s name. “Yes, she’d want you to.”

 

‘Stay in her room?‘

 

Could he do that? To be surrounded by Kagome’s things . . . to be so near the objects that were hers and yet to know in his heart that she couldn’t get to him? InuYasha shook his head. “I’ll sleep in Goshinboku,” he mumbled.

 

“If that’s what you want,” Mrs. Higurashi agreed, forcing another smile that was paper-thin.

 

“Inu-no-nii-chan! You’re here! Where’s nee-chan?” Souta asked as he ran into the kitchen with his best friend on his heels. Hitomi skidded to a stop and bowed to Mrs. Higurashi before cocking her head to the side and staring at InuYasha—or more precisely, at his ears. He’d seen the girl a few times. He’d even spoken to her once, but he’d been wearing a kerchief to hide his ears, at Kagome’s insistence, of course.

 

Souta used to have a crush on Hitomi—that was what Kagome called it. She said it was puppy love, and while InuYasha had taken offense to that reference, he sort of understood what it meant. Souta and Hitomi hadn’t been boyfriend and girlfriend long, but they had become friends, and that sort of friendship was hard to find. InuYasha knew that, first hand.

 

“You have . . . dog ears!” Hitomi blurted, cheeks turning bright red about the moment the words left her mouth as she slapped her hands over her lips, eyes widening in shock at her slip. “I’m sorry!”

 

Souta laughed. “Sure he does! He’s hanyou—inu-hanyou!”

 

“I didn’t know that, baka!” Hitomi growled as she rounded on Souta. The boy backed up, fingers splayed as he waved his hands to protest his innocence.

 

“It’s fine! Calm down! Inu-no-nii-chan doesn’t mind, do you?”

 

InuYasha took the ramen from Mrs. Higurashi and shot Souta a cursory glance. He didn’t feel like eating, but for some reason, he thought that Mrs. Higurashi would be upset if he didn’t. “Keh.”

 

“See?” Souta sputtered as he backed away from Hitomi’s wrath.

 

“But I didn’t know it, and . . .” Hitomi gasped. “Souta! You said you tell me everything! You’re a liar!”

 

“I didn’t lie! I just didn’t tell you! Inu-no-nii-chan!”

 

“You’re on your own, runt,” InuYasha grunted between bites of ramen.

 

“Where’s nee-chan? She can explain this better than I can,” Souta insisted.

 

InuYasha choked on the ramen that he’d been eating. Mrs. Higurashi uttered a tiny sound that reminded him of Kirara’s soft mewling when the youkai was in her normal form. The stubborn desire to eat the ramen dissipated, and InuYasha set the bowl on the floor with a hefty thump, sending a wave of broth over the edge of the Styrofoam as his chopsticks hit the floor with an obscenely loud clatter.

 

“What’d I say?” Souta asked, staring from InuYasha to his mother and back again.

 

Mrs. Higurashi cleared her throat as she glanced over Souta’s head. Grandpa Higurashi shuffled into the kitchen. While he seemed surprised to see InuYasha crouching on the floor, he didn’t remark on it, and InuYasha had to wonder if the old man knew something. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” he asked without preamble, his voice a dry whisper as he gripped Mrs. Higurashi’s shoulder.

 

“Who’s gone?” Souta asked, the first real hint of panic seeping into his tone.

 

Mrs. Higurashi shot InuYasha an indiscernible glance and slowly nodded. “I think so.”

 

Grandpa’s hand dropped away, and he turned, stumbling back out of the kitchen without another word and still without even glancing at the hanyou.

 

InuYasha winced, hearing the old man’s muffled sobs mingled with the creak of the stairs. The others probably didn’t hear it, and that was what he wanted. InuYasha wished that he hadn’t heard it, either.

 

“Nee-chan’s gone?” Souta demanded, shaking his head as he scowled at his mother. “How? How could she be . . . But Inu-no-nii-chan’s here . . .”

 

InuYasha shot to his feet and stomped out of the house, through the back door, not pausing till he reached the base of Goshinboku. Leaping into the uppermost branches of the gnarled old tree, he hid himself among the leaves, smacked his head back against the trunk as he balled his hands into fists, biting his lip until he tasted blood.

 

After he spoke to Midoriko—after he told her what it was he wanted—he’d appeared in the bottom of the dry well. His senses had told him immediately that he was in Kagome’s era, in Kagome’s time. He knew it, and yet he couldn’t accept it. Jumping out of the well only to leap back in again, he’d tried to ignore the voice in his mind, the one that told him that he wasn’t going to get back through. He’d made his choice, but what he didn’t understand was how it had gone so wrong.

 

‘I want to be in Kagome’s world. That’s what I . . . I want . . .’

 

Midoriko had smiled at him, and he had thought, for that brief moment, that maybe dreams did come true. When he’d started to disappear, when he’d realized that Kagome wasn’t coming with him . . .

 

His stomach twisted itself in knots. Surrounded by a world that didn’t make sense to him, lost in a place where he didn’t really belong, any more than he belonged in the world five hundred years ago, InuYasha closed his eyes and moaned softly. The only place he’d ever belonged was beside Kagome. The only times he’d ever felt completely accepted was when Kagome smiled at him. To be here or there or anywhere without her . . .

 

‘Stupid Kagome . . . This is her fault! She was supposed to want to be with me! She . . . she wasn’t supposed to leave me alone . . .’

 

“Can I stay with you, InuYasha?”

 

“It’s all right, you know . . . I’m with you by choice . . .”

 

And all the tears she’d cried for him . . . after all the times he’d let her down, all the times he’d failed her . . .

 

All those moments when she hadn’t said a word because she didn’t need to . . .

 

Something inside him was breaking, shattering. The terror that choked him as he thought of never seeing Kagome’s face again was so much worse than the wounds he’d received while he sought to protect her.

 

She was his reason for living, wasn’t she?

 

She was his entire world, and now . . .

 

Now she was gone . . .

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

“. . . Won’t eat . . .”

 

“. . . Hasn’t slept . . .”

 

“. . . How long . . .?”

 

“. . . Will she . . .?”

 

“. . . Because he’s . . .”

 

“Poor Kagome-chan . . .”

 

Kagome stared into the blackness of the gaping hole and blinked slowly. If she stopped to consider what she was doing, she would have realized that there was no way that it would happen. The well wasn’t going to suddenly open, and InuYasha . . .

 

Her eyelids burned, her throat ached, and she wished she could cry. Sure, she’d come close to crying more than once. She’d teetered on the brink—nose burning, eyes prickling, lip trembling. It was her last hope; a desperate hope. She sat here on the edge of the Bone Eater’s Well every day for the last three days since the night InuYasha had disappeared. She hadn’t been able to muster the courage to drop into it yet. In her heart she knew the well was closed. In her mind, she knew that there really wasn’t a way to bridge the five hundred year separation, but she couldn’t help hoping, wishing, wondering . . . If she wanted it bad enough, couldn’t a wish come true? If she promised enough of herself, would it count for anything?

 

Hitching her backpack over her shoulder again, Kagome braced herself on the edge of the well. ‘It has to let me through, right? It . . . it has to . . .’

 

“Kagome-chan . . .”

 

She didn’t turn at the sound of Sango’s soft voice. Gripping the wall until her fingertips turned white, Kagome braced her feet against the wood, ready to push off and drop.

 

“Kagome-chan, please . . .”

 

“I’ve got to try,” Kagome whispered, unable to look her friend in the eye, unable to deal with the pity in her expression that Kagome knew she would see.

 

“Do you think it’ll work? Do you really?”

 

“It has to work.”

 

“But what if it doesn’t? What if . . .? It’s a long drop.”

 

“And if you were me? If Miroku were InuYasha instead? You’d try; I know you would.”

 

Sango didn’t deny it. She sighed and touched Kagome’s arm. No one had tried to touch Kagome since that night. Whether they were afraid of her miko power or if they just didn’t know what to expect, not one of her friends had tried to say anything. She heard them whispering, knew of their concerns. Some things were more important; things like InuYasha and the things they hadn’t gotten a chance to say . . .

 

“I have to try,” she stated again. “I have to.”

 

“If you do, and it doesn’t work—”

 

Kagome shook her head. “If I do and it doesn’t work, then at least I’ll have tried.”

 

“Kagome-dono, wait!” Miroku called, the hoops on the Shakuju jingling as he hurried forward. “Listen, please. If you jump in there, and you don’t go through, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

 

She didn’t know how to explain it to them. She didn’t know how to make them listen. Part of her was already broken. Part of her felt like it was dying.

 

A low rumble split the afternoon. A tell-tale rustling in the trees drew their attention. The bag slipped off Kagome’s shoulder as she flipped her legs back around to the solid side of the well. Miroku spared the women a glance before he stepped forward, waving for them to stay behind. “It’s youkai,” Sango murmured, holding onto Kagome’s arm as the miko retrieved her bow and arrows.

 

The lynx youkai ran out of the forest, spotting the group and running straight toward them. He was young—not much older than Shippou, and by the time he skidded to a stop before them, he was panting for breath, his ears drooping in exhaustion as he tried to speak and draw air at the same time. “Looking . . . for . . . Inu . . . Yasha . . .” he gasped. “Hi, Kirara!”

 

The fire cat youkai mewled and rubbed against the lynx youkai’s leg.

 

“He looks shifty,” Shippou remarked, tugging on Kagome’s sock. “I wouldn’t trust him . . .”

 

“It’s okay, Shippou,” Kagome assured him. “I think he’s fine.”

 

“Yeah, but he knows InuYasha. That can’t be good.”

 

“Hush, Shippou,” Sango hissed, waving her hand at the kitsune to silence him.

 

“InuYasha? Who are you, and what business do you have with him?” Kagome asked evenly.

 

“Name’s Bunza,” he replied. “My tribe is being attacked. InuYasha said that if we ever needed him . . .”

 

“Attacked by what?” Sango asked.

 

Bunza shrugged and made a face. “There’s an oni that came down from the mountain. He says that my father woke him, and he’s demanding retribution. My father could take care of it, no problem, but . . . but he’s been sick lately . . .”

 

Kagome sighed. InuYasha could have easily helped Bunza, she was sure, and even if he grumbled about it, he’d have done it. How many people did InuYasha leave behind? How many people need his protection, his help? ‘Oh, InuYasha . . . I wish you were here . . .’

 

The monk frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Kagome.

 

“How do you know InuYasha?” she asked, kneeling down before the young youkai.

 

Bunza stared at her curiously, head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed. “We trained together with Master Totosai. We wanted to learn to break barriers. InuYasha helped me save my father that time. He’s my kouhai.”

 

“Kouhai?” Miroku echoed rather incredulously.

 

“Yeah, because I was there first, so I was his sempai. InuYasha was pretty tough, but he was still only my kouhai.”

 

“Did he thump you for saying that?” Shippou asked, peeking out from behind Sango’s legs.

 

“No, he was kind to me,” Bunza replied. “He gave me his fish and stuff.”

 

Shippou hopped down and ran over to Bunza. The two youkai children were practically nose to nose, staring at each other like they were sizing up the competition. “You’re just a lynx. You’re not very tough,” Shippou remarked.

 

“Yeah? You’re just a kitsune. Kitsunes use tricks and toys,” Bunza shot back.

 

“Kitsunes are masters of deception,” Shippou replied hotly.

 

“And lynxes are faster that stupid kitsunes, so we don’t need your babyish deceptions!”

 

“InuYasha’s not here,” Kagome said, struggling to keep her voice steady as she pulled Shippou back before the two started fighting for real. Shippou tried to pull himself free but settled for sticking his tongue out at Bunza. Bunza retaliated in kind as Kagome sighed and shook her head. “Maybe we can help you.”

 

“Kagome . . . are you sure?” Sango questioned as Kagome stood up.

 

Kagome nodded, retrieving her bag, a determination stealing into her gaze; a determination that had been missing of late. “InuYasha would do it,” she stated. “I can do it, too.”

 

 

<<< 001: Deebacle

003: Filling the Void >>>

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Nee-chan: big sister. Souta refers to Kagome in this way.

Inu-no-nii-chan: This is the cutest thing, ever. Souta calls InuYasha this: dog-big-brother, basically.

–dono: largely archaic honorific denoting very high respect.  Typically denotes status above ‘-sama’, often translated as “Lord/Lady” but does not necessarily reflect a lower social status for the speaker, as is implied.

Kouhai: roughly translated Junior (Little) Brother.

Sempai: roughly translated Senior (Big) Brother.

Shakuju: Miroku’s staff.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from InuYasha:

Kagome …

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 1~~

~Debacle~

Three years later.

 

 

Kagome stared at the brilliant, shimmering orb in the wan light of the merrily dancing flames. Pink and white undulated inside the confines of the Shikon no Tama. It cost so much in terms of lives lost. It was impossible to look at the jewel and feel anything but utter sadness. Some of them had lost more than others, but everyone had lost something.

 

Shippou had lost his father because of the Shikon no Kakera. His father had died because of the one shard he possessed. Slain by the Thunder Brothers, Shippou was left an orphan, and his quest to avenge his father had led him to InuYasha and Kagome. The kitsune had seen too much, had lived through more than he should have had to, and because of that, he seemed so much older than his eleven years.

 

Sango, the youkai exterminator, had lost her entire village and her family, save one member: her younger brother, Kohaku. Kagome knew that Sango considered herself lucky to have been able to keep him when they hadn’t known for so long if it would be possible for him to survive once the shard that had kept him alive was removed from him. That he had was nothing short of a miracle—one granted by Kikyou just before she’d died when she transferred the light of purity from the shard in Kohaku to the boy himself . . . Now, Kohaku wandered, slaying troublesome youkai in an effort to make up for all of the mistakes he’d made in his lifetime, and while Sango was just grateful to know that he was alive, Kagome also knew that Sango wished that he would come back, that he would chose instead to stay close to her.

 

Miroku hadn’t lost as much because of the Sacred Jewel as he had in a family feud with Naraku. His grandfather had been cursed with the kazaana—the wind tunnel—and it had been passed down to Miroku’s father, and at last, to him. In those last days before they found and defeated Naraku, the kazaana had expanded so much that Kagome had feared that they would lose Miroku before they tracked Naraku down. He had been very, very lucky.

 

InuYasha had lost fifty years. Pinned to Goshinboku by Kikyou’s sacred arrow, he hadn’t been alive, but he hadn’t really been dead either. He hadn’t aged at all, and there would have been no telling how long he would have remained there if Kagome hadn’t fallen through the well. Then to find that he’d lost Kikyou, all because of Naraku’s deception . . . and then to lose her a second time . . . Kagome had seen that last kiss, and it had hurt . . . Under the stars, he’d sat holding her . . . but Kikyou had managed to save Kouga and Kohaku, both, and . . . well . . . how could she fault InuYasha for doing whatever he could do to make peace with the first woman he’d ever loved? Kikyou had chosen to die instead of living with the pain of InuYasha’s perceived betrayal the first time, and the second? The second death . . . it was the one she was supposed to have had . . . Kagome winced. InuYasha had lost so much, too.

 

Kagome’s brow furrowed as she stared at the jewel. She hadn’t lost anything, not really. Unlike the others, she’d gained more than she ever had to lose. Sure, she’d struggled to keep up in school since she spent so much time here helping her friends recover the jewel shards, but she had finished school a couple of months ago, in March. Maybe she’d had to learn how to rough it, to make due in a permanent camp-out, but she’d gained another family—dysfunctional, perhaps, but family just the same.

 

Glancing over at InuYasha, Kagome bit her bottom lip and waited for his signal. He stared at her for a long, solemn moment before nodding once. “Okay,” she murmured, squeezing the jewel tight before dropping it into Shippou’s hands.

 

The young kitsune who had grown so much since the fateful day he’d come across InuYasha and Kagome had flourished in the love he was given, the love of friends who were more like family. ‘Shippou understands what life is all about,’ Kagome mused as a gentle smile touched her lips. Drawing a deep breath, the kitsune passed the jewel to Sango.

 

The exterminator stared at the jewel in her hand, wiped a tear from her cheek as she stared at the swirling mist in the orb. She had found wisdom through her losses. ‘Sango knows what it means to lose . . . and she knows how to pick up the pieces and go on.’ Sango used that wisdom to guide her, and as she gazed at the Shikon no Tama, her sad little smile broke Kagome’s heart. Sango closed her hand around the jewel then handed it to Miroku.

 

Balancing the jewel in the hand that used to house the kazaana, Miroku caught Kagome’s gaze and nodded. ‘Miroku’s remembering that night,’ she thought absently. ‘The night he told me that the kazaana was spreading.’ How he’d managed to find the courage to face every day and to do so with a smile and his gentle grace still amazed Kagome. He dropped the jewel into InuYasha’s hand with a knowing nod and a reverent bow.

 

InuYasha didn’t hold the jewel long, simply passing it back to Kagome. ‘He trusts me to do this,’ she realized as a warm glow wrapped around her. ‘He’s learned to trust us all.’ InuYasha had found something that had eluded him for far too long. He had friends now, people who depended on him, friends to protect.

 

‘The Four Souls aren’t really one person,’ Kagome mused. ‘Sango and Miroku, Shippou and InuYasha . . . They are the four souls, and their perfect balance with each other . . . that’s what we needed to purify the Shikon no Tama. They are my sakimitama, kushimitama, aramitama, and nigimitama . . . they are my love, wisdom, courage, and . . . my friendship.’

 

As soon as the words entered her mind, the jewel rose in front of her, suspended in the air. No real wish came to her, nothing meaningful or profound. The Shikon no Tama slowly brightened, the tinge of pink dissipating. A low hum emanated from the jewel, growing louder and louder like thunder rolling across the land. The jewel shattered in a burst of light and sound. Wind erupted around them but didn’t touch the fire. Kagome lifted her hands to shield her face moments before InuYasha’s arms wrapped around her, protecting her from flying debris. As quickly as the wind had come, it diminished, and Sango’s gasp echoed in the quiet meadow.

 

InuYasha let his arms drop though he didn’t let go of Kagome. Opening her eyes, Kagome breathed sharply as she stared at the shimmering vision, the beautiful warrior-miko of legend, Midoriko. Kirara mewled softly, recognizing her former mistress. Midoriko smiled at the double-tailed fire cat-youkai and nodded her thanks. “Well done, Kirara. I missed you. Tell me, what is it you wish?”

 

Kirara mewled again, rubbing against the apparition or entity—Kagome wasn’t sure what Midoriko really was. Midoriko laughed softly as Kirara leapt into her arms. “Yes, of course . . . you simply wish to remain with Sango.”

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Upon hearing her name, Sango lifted her chin, steadily met Midoriko’s calm gaze. The warrior-miko’s voice came to her in a whisper. Her lips didn’t move, but her smile was radiant and somehow sad. Midoriko nodded slowly, seeing past words and into Sango’s heart. ‘You and your brother are the last of your people—the protectors of the Shikon no Tama . . . Your kin died protecting my sanctuary, destroying the youkai who would threaten these lands. I cannot give you back what you have lost, and in truth, I think you’ve found a new place to belong. You wish to be with the houshi. You wish to be his wife. With a union between the two of you, you can restore what you have lost. Do you understand, Sango? It won’t be easy. Then again, some of the things you’ve found comfort in are not the things that are easily obtained.’

 

‘I understand, Midoriko.’ Casting a glance at Miroku, the taijya smiled. ‘I understand.’

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Midoriko nodded and caressed Sango’s cheek, her fingers lingering before she let her hand drop and turned to face Miroku. ‘Houshi-sama . . . that is what she calls you, isn’t it? Your heart is conflicted, isn’t it? You know what you want, and you fear that you cannot have it.’

 

Miroku couldn’t look at the miko. She could see into his heart. She could see the conflict that divided his soul. Painful, bitter . . . Everything he’d ever wanted was right there, so close, and yet . . . Miroku didn’t dare look at Sango. ‘I . . . yes.’

 

A shadow of sadness washed over Midoriko’s feature before a compassionate smile replaced the emotion. ‘I cannot change things for you. I cannot lessen your fears, nor can I dispel your doubts. I can tell you that the things you seek are not impossible. The path is troublesome, but you, Miroku . . . you must be certain that it is what you truly want.’

 

He swallowed hard, nodded once. ‘I understand, Midoriko. You are wise.’

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

‘Young kitsune—Shippou. Your wish is the easiest of them all.‘

 

Shippou blinked as he stared up at Midoriko’s shimmering visage. ‘It is?‘

 

‘Of course. You want what you already have, don’t you? A family, though perhaps not in the traditional sense?‘

 

‘I don’t understand,’ Shippou thought as he slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t have a family . . .’

 

‘Don’t you, Shippou? Are you so certain?‘

 

‘My friends, you mean? Are they my family?‘

 

Midoriko’s smile was radiant, shining. ‘There are two kinds of family, you see. There are those who choose to have you, and there are those you choose to have.’

 

Shippou slowly shifted his gaze around the campfire, staring at his friends—his family—and he realized that Midoriko was right. ‘Thank you,’ he told her with a bashful grin. ‘I chose them a long time ago, didn’t I?‘

 

‘You did, Shippou. In the coming years, you’ll grow and mature. Always remember the things that they have taught you, even if they are no longer with you. If you hold them dear—if you hold them in your heart—they will always be there to lend you strength and comfort, and they will always hold you the same way.’

 

‘I understand, Midoriko,’ Shippou assured her. ‘I’ll do my best.’

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

InuYasha regarded the ageless miko with a curious gaze. Arms tucked around Tetsusaiga with Kagome by his side, the hanyou waited almost patiently for Midoriko to speak.

 

‘I know what is in your heart, InuYasha. I know what it is you want. Haven’t you found that already? The acceptance of others? The warmth of true friendship?‘

 

InuYasha wrinkled his nose and snorted. ‘Keh! That don’t matter. I never wanted nothing, anyway.’

 

Midoriko laughed, and InuYasha blushed as he ducked his chin and folded his arms together under the sleeves of his haori. ‘You don’t have to tell me what you want, InuYasha. You fought to protect the Shikon no Tama, and you fought to protect Kagome. You fought for your friends, and you fought for yourself. All you have to do is think about what it is that matters most to you; what it is you really want.’

 

‘Whatever.’

 

‘Mark my words, InuYasha: there may come a day when you must shed your tough exterior and let someone see into your heart. Do not be foolish enough to miss your chance.’

 

He started to scoff at the miko’s words. Something in her eyes stopped him. A sense of quiet foreboding, a single look that quelled the sarcasm, the brusqueness that he used to hide his feelings from everyone—from himself . . .

 

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally nodded, one terse jerk of his head. ‘I understand, Midoriko, but . . . it don’t make sense.‘

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

Kagome waited patiently as Midoriko leaned down, listened as InuYasha whispered something to her that Kagome didn’t hear. Intercepting Shippou’s joyful smile, she couldn’t help but smile back, and that smile lingered on her lips as she noticed the peaceful expression on Sango’s face. Whatever Midoriko had said to her friend had helped to alleviate the hint of sadness that seemed to follow Sango everywhere.

 

Kagome’s smile faltered as she glanced at Miroku. The monk was flexing his hand, frowning thoughtfully as he touched his glove that used to cover the kazaana. Fingering the prayer beads that he wore out of habit rather than necessity, he was pensive, quiet. She wished she knew why.

 

InuYasha scooted a little closer to her, and Kagome shot him a quick smile. He didn’t return the sentiment, but he did look content. Kagome didn’t have time to analyze it. Midoriko reached down, held out her hand. “Come with me, Kagome. You and I should talk.”

 

Kagome took the miko’s hand without question, brushing off her skirt as she rose to her feet. She could sense InuYasha’s reluctance to let her wander off. She gave him a reassuring smile before following Midoriko away from the campfire.

 

“Tell me what I can do for you, Kagome. Tell me how I should repay someone who possesses a heart pure enough to set me free.”

 

Kagome licked her lips nervously, feeling her palms break into a sweat. She hadn’t been sure this morning when she’d left the shrine five hundred years in the future. She’d hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. “The well’s closed, isn’t it?”

 

Her question was more of a statement than anything. She didn’t need to have anything affirmed to know. She’d felt the shift in the ground beneath her, and she’d known; of course she’d known.

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

Kagome swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “I see.”

 

“You knew, didn’t you? You said goodbye to your mother and your brother and to your grandfather, as well. You wrote letters for your friends in hopes that they would never read them, and you kept this from InuYasha.”

 

She shrugged as she tried not to think about the things Midoriko had mentioned. It hurt enough at the time. It had hurt worse than anything she’d ever had to do before.

 

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” InuYasha grouched as he waited for Kagome to climb out of the well. Tapping his foot as he wrinkled his nose, he snorted loudly as she tossed her backpack over the ledge and pulled herself up. “Keh! Your time stinks, wench.”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes. “I know. It’s called ‘pollution’, dog boy; now give me a hand, will you?”

 

He shook his head but caught her hands, easily dragging her over the side of the well before setting her back on her feet. Letting go of her as soon as she was on solid ground, he snorted again, pausing long enough to grab her backpack, before stomping up the stairs that led out of the well-house. Kagome sighed. ‘He’s as nervous as I am . . . He’s afraid that the jewel won’t be purified . . . or maybe he’s afraid that it will . . .’

 

It was a plan that they’d been thinking about for awhile. Kaede, the old village miko, had suggested that Kagome and the others try to purify the jewel as one, just as they had defeated Naraku years before. They’d had the jewel all this time because they hadn’t wanted to jeopardize tainting the Shikon no Tama in making a wish because, as Miroku had pointed out, wasn’t the root of all wishes really a selfish thing? “Even the most seemingly selfless wish is based in some bit of selfishness.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” InuYasha snarled from where he lounged casually in Kaede’s hut. “There ain’t nothing selfish about it, Miroku.”

 

Miroku shook his head and held up his hand perpendicular to his face. “Purifying the jewel, in and of itself, would alleviate the base need to protect it. That is a selfish desire. Without the jewel, the youkai would stop coming, and we—Kagome especially—would be out of danger.”

 

‘InuYasha didn’t want to admit that Miroku might have been right, but he had stopped demanding that we try to purify it, didn’t he?’

 

Kagome followed InuYasha into the hazy light of the setting sun and shook her head. He hadn’t wanted to let her go home, either. He’d started to throw one of his fits about it; about her running home to her time whenever the going got tough, but it wasn’t like that this time. It wasn’t like that at all. Finally telling him that she was going whether he liked it or not, InuYasha had finally given in, albeit with all the ill grace he could muster. Kagome had been surprised when InuYasha had called out to her, stomping after her as she had swung her legs over the ledge of the well. He hadn’t said a word to her when he reached her, but he had given her the ‘Pathetic Human’ look and had snatched her off the side of the well before hopping into the darkness.

 

She’d eaten dinner with her family. She’d shared in their happy banter, and she’d laughed with them. Careful not to think about the things that she knew could happen later, she concentrated instead on making sure that she memorized everything about them: Mama’s gentle smile, the unruly tendencies of Souta’s hair despite his efforts to keep it neat, Grandpa’s never-ending stories . . .

 

“We’re going to try to purify the jewel tomorrow,” Kagome had said as she washed the dishes after supper. Wincing as she felt her mother’s pause as she cleared things off the table, Kagome had known that Mama understood what she had been trying to say.

 

“I see. It’s been a long time in coming, hasn’t it?”

 

“I suppose. We have to do it. It needs to be done. The jewel’s hurt too many people. It can’t go on like that.”

 

Mrs. Higurashi leaned against the table and folded her arms together over her chest. “And what will happen when you do this?”

 

Kagome shook her head, shrugged in what she hoped was a careless manner. “We don’t know for sure . . . The well . . . it’ll probably close.”

 

Mrs. Higurashi sighed. “I understand.” Wandering around the kitchen as she tried to find the words to say, Mrs. Higurashi sighed again, stopping by the framed pictures that lined the walls. All the years of her life were there, displayed for anyone who cared to look. Kagome blinked quickly as the prick of tears stung her eyes, realizing just how abrupt it was. “Kagome . . . That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You . . . You might not come back.”

 

“Mama . . .”

 

Mrs. Higurashi laughed, waving her hand as she hurried over to hug her daughter. “You know, Kagome, I’ve never expected you to do anything less than what your heart tells you, and no matter what you choose, I’ll never be more proud of you than I am right now.”

 

Kagome nodded, brushing a single tear off her cheek as she managed a thin, watery smile. “I love you, Mama.”

 

Mrs. Higurashi smiled as she reached out and stroked Kagome’s hair. “I love you, too, Kagome.”

 

The letters she’d written were hidden away. She wrote them in the middle of the night as InuYasha dozed under the window. Arms wrapped around Tetsusaiga, chin tucked against his chest, she’d seen him sleep like that too often to count, and as she watched him, she knew she didn’t really have a choice, and maybe she never really had. InuYasha needed her as much as she needed him, and whether or not he admitted as much, she knew it in her heart. They were meant to be together.

 

She’d given Mama the letters intended for Souta and Grandpa, and for her friends. She hadn’t mentioned to Yuka, Eri, or Ayumi, just why she had gone away. She figured it would be ambiguous at best. Some things should be left unsaid.

 

Kagome hadn’t slept at all that night. Lying awake in the room that was so familiar to her, she held the jewel in her hands and tried not to be sad for whatever might be. She was the one who woke InuYasha in the morning, and she was the first one done eating as InuYasha watched Mrs. Higurashi stuff as much ramen and pocky into Kagome’s oversized bag as she could. Kagome forced a hug on her nearly teenage brother, Souta had grumbled and complained as he tried to push her away. She’d hugged Grandpa next, and he seemed oddly quiet as he hugged her back.   Mrs. Higurashi had been the last. InuYasha rolled his eyes as Kagome had hugged her mother for a few extra seconds. When they stepped out of the shrine in the bright morning sunshine, he snorted and shrugged and told her to hurry.

 

“You’re so mean,” she complained as she hurried to catch up with the hanyou. “Why do you have to be such a baka?”

 

InuYasha shoved open the doors and ran down the stairs to the well. “I’d rather be a baka with you not crying than not be a baka with you blubbering like a girl.”

 

Kagome paused as she pulled the doors closed. “I am a girl,” she pointed out, though her tone had lost most of her irritation. ‘He doesn’t like it when I’m sad, does he? He . . . he just doesn’t handle it well.’

 

“And it’s stupid, anyway,” InuYasha went on as he picked Kagome up and hopped into the well. “Ain’t no use crying over it. Whatever happens, happens, right?”

 

Kagome sighed and nodded, fingering the stiff envelopes in her pocket. She’d also written letters to Sango and Miroku, to Shippou . . . and to InuYasha. If things didn’t work the way they’d planned, if she was separated from them forever . . . Kagome had given those letters to Kaede, who would give them to the intended recipient if things went awry. “You’re right,” she agreed, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice. “Whatever happens, happens . . .”

 

“You know that you must choose. You know that you were never meant to be able to transcend time,” Midoriko broke in. “It is time, Kagome. You have family and friends in your time . . . but you have the same here, too.”

 

Kagome nodded, lifting her gaze to the star-filled sky. She could have been searching for answers or looking for another choice. In the end, she knew what she wanted, and she knew what her heart had already chosen.

 

“Keh! I hate your time, wench! It’s too crowded, too smelly, too loud, too everything.”

 

How many times had she heard the same thing from him? Ever since the beginning, he’d never hidden his disdain for her era, and considering his need to be outside, she couldn’t really blame him, either.

 

“Keh! Your time stinks, wench.”

 

Yes, to an inu-hanyou, it probably did. Her time was too congested, too crowded, too overwhelming for his senses, and too . . .

 

‘Would he even want to choose my time? Of course not . . . He’d stay here, and I’d be . . . without him . . .’

 

Kagome shook her head. Was there ever really a choice at all? As much as she loved her mother and her brother, her grandfather and her friends, maybe she loved InuYasha just a little bit more.

 

“I . . . I want to stay here,” she murmured. “I need to stay here.”

 

Midoriko frowned, tilting her head to the side as she regarded Kagome calmly. “And you’re sure? That is what you truly desire?”

 

Kagome swallowed hard, blinked back tears that threatened. “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

Staring at her for several moments, as though she were trying to figure something out, Midoriko finally, hesitantly, nodded. “So be it.”

 

“InuYasha!”

 

Kagome’s head snapped toward the sound of Sango’s exclamation, and she gasped. Spinning around as she ran, she skidded to a stop before the hanyou. His body was fading away, and as he caught sight of Kagome, his eyes flared wide. “Oi, wench! What the fuck did you do?”

 

Kagome reached for him but her hands slipped through him. “InuYasha! No!”

 

“Kagome!” he yelled, wildly trying to grab her. Barely more than a vague outline in the darkness, InuYasha’s voice lingered in the air, an echo that whispered in her mind.

 

“What . . .? Why?” she demanded as she stared in shock at the place where InuYasha had stood.

 

“Where did he go?” Shippou asked quietly, his voice a tiny squeak. “Kagome?”

 

“Midoriko!” Kagome shrieked as she whipped around to look for the miko. ‘There’s been a mistake . . . there had to be . . . InuYasha . . .’ she thought as she stumbled back the way she’d come, her eyes filling with furious tears as she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t really true. “Midoriko!”

 

“Kagome, no!” Miroku commanded as he grabbed Kagome by the shoulders to keep her from running away into the night.

 

“Where is he, Miroku?” she whispered, desperation creeping into her tone. “Where is he?”

 

Miroku shook his head and hugged Kagome tighter as Kagome sank to her knees. “I . . . I don’t know.”

 

“He can’t have just disappeared! He can’t have just . . . he can’t!” Kagome railed.

 

Another set of arms wrapped around both her and Miroku as Sango rested her cheek on Kagome’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s not really gone,” Sango rasped out, her voice deep and stunted, and Kagome knew that the youkai exterminator was crying.

 

“InuYasha! InuYasha!” Kagome screamed, wincing at the lonely sound of her voice rising above the trees only to echo back to her as she struggled against her friends’ grips. “InuYasha!”

 

Shippou threw himself onto Kagome’s lap. “Where’d he go, Kagome? Why would he leave us? Where’d he go?”

 

‘Midoriko,’ Kagome thought suddenly. She knew what happened, didn’t she? “Midoriko!”

 

“She’s not here, Kagome,” Miroku told her, his tone overly reasonable and so very, very sad. “She’s gone, too.”

 

“No! She can’t be gone! She has to tell me where InuYasha is! She . . . Midoriko!” she shrieked, tugging against the arms that held her back. She screamed until her throat was raw. Over and over, she called out, hoping that the miko would answer as Sango’s tears ran down Kagome’s arm, as Shippou’s tears dampened the front of her blouse, as Miroku squeezed her tighter and tighter.

 

Kagome’s eyes were strained and burning from her futile attempts to see even the vaguest hint of movement in the night, she slumped weakly against Miroku, her mind numbing to the truth that she didn’t want to believe. Never in her life had Kagome ever felt quite so empty, quite so alone. It made no sense, and as weariness stole over her, Kagome willed herself to cry. She felt the tingle of tears prickling her nose, felt her throat thicken as she blinked rapidly. The tears wouldn’t come.

 

It was no use. It didn’t matter. Midoriko was gone, and InuYasha . . .

 

InuYasha was gone, too.

 

 

<<<Prologue: The Great Debate

002: Changes >>>

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A/N:

Sakimitama: Love.

Kushimitama: Wisdom.

Aramitama: Courage.

Nigimitama: Friendship.

Shikon no Kakera: Shards of the Sacred Jewel of Four Souls.

Shikon no Tama: Sacred Jewel of Four Souls.

Baka: Fool/Idiot.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from Kagome:

Where did he go?

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~

~~Prologue~~

~The Great Debate~

 

 

‘How the fuck did that happen?‘ InuYasha fumed as he grudgingly watched out of the corner of his half-closed eye as Higurashi Kagome stomped across the meadow toward the lone structure in the field: the Bone Eater’s Well. It was the link between his world of Sengoku Jidai—the Warring States Era—and her world, the place she called ‘modern day Tokyo.’ Virtually, the two places were the same. What separated them was that well . . . and roughly five hundred years.

 

He hadn’t meant to start the fight with her. He’d been secretly pleased when she had come looking for him. Standing at the base of Goshinboku—the God Tree—she wandered around the thick trunk, running her fingers along the bark as she cocked her head to the side and stared up through the branches at him. He pretended not to notice her down there—she really hated when he did that—and started his mental count.

 

‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’ he thought, pausing a moment between each number.

 

He was just hitting the thirties when she sighed very loudly and stepped back from the tree trunk. “I’m going back now, InuYasha,” she called up hesitantly, her voice clear and thin, carefully pleasant though he could sense the underlying turmoil. She was obviously expecting him to argue with her about her plans to return home.

 

“So go, already,” he growled as he lifted his chin and closed his eyes, one foot tucked under him, the other dangling from the branch where he sat. “Just don’t be gone forever. We got work to do, remember?”

 

He heard her sigh, knew that her shoulders had just drooped as he winced inwardly and stifled a sigh of his own. “I don’t suppose you want to come with me?” she ventured in an even more pleasant tone.

 

“Keh!” he scoffed, lifting his chin another notch. “And why the hell would I do a fucking stupid thing like that?”

 

In his mind, he could see her expression twist into one of the disgusted affectations that he loved—yet another reason he goaded her temper as frequently as he did. “Because you like to be around me,” she stated tightly, her patience wearing thinner and thinner like a wire ready to snap.

 

“About as much as I like having fleas,” he countered.

 

Kagome made a small growling sound. After a moment, she tried another tactic, her sweet tone back in place once more. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Ramen? Potato chips? Milk Bones?”

 

That earned her a long-suffering glance. “Keh. I’ll pass,” he grumbled haughtily, referring to the dog treats instead of the first two options.

 

“Suit yourself, then, grumpy . . . I’ll just bring back pocky for Shippou and stuff for the others,” she agreed lightly as she whipped around to leave.

 

“Ramen!” he hollered after her.

 

Kagome stopped and wandered back with a happy grin on her face. The grin took on a bit of a wicked edge, and she clasped her hands in front of her. “If you want ramen, you have to come with me,” she said.

 

InuYasha made a face as he snorted again. “Keh! I hate your time, wench,” he reminded her. “It’s too crowded, too smelly, too loud, too everything.”

 

“It isn’t that bad,” she argued, her tone taking on the instant defensive undertones he knew well enough. “There are things to be said for progress, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed with yet another derisive snort, “it’s stupid!”

 

“It’s not stupid!” she shot back. “At least we have indoor plumbing!”

 

“Overrated.”

 

“And electricity.”

 

“Big deal.”

 

“No running around, fighting youkai.”

 

“Keh! Boring.”

 

“Ramen!”

 

“One good thing, wench! The rest of it can go straight to hell.”

 

Kagome sighed again. “Fine, fine,” she muttered. “At least boys are taught manners in my time.”

 

“You mean like that one from your school? That ain’t manners! That’s just pathetic.”

 

“Right,” Kagome said mildly as she shrugged off her backpack and rummaged through it. “Admit it: you’re just scared of being in my time because you don’t understand it.”

 

“Scared? Like hell!” he snarled, quickly forgetting that he’d instigated this little discussion. “I ain’t scared of anything, Kagome!”

 

She dug a tiny white tube out of the bag and yanked the lid free with a small popping noise. He made a face at the vague yet still unnatural smell of the greasy-waxy gunk she liked to smear on her lips. She called it ‘chap stick’. He called it revolting.

 

“That’s disgusting, wench,” he pointed out as his face contorted in absolute disdain.

 

Kagome rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she remarked dryly. “You get youkai guts all over you just about every day, and you’re calling me disgusting?”

 

“That ain’t by choice,” he retorted in a tone that stated quite plainly that he thought she ought to know as much.

 

She shook her head slowly before pinning InuYasha with a calculating stare. Breaking into a cunning grin, the miko blinked a few times as she stared up through the branches. “Why don’t you come down here, InuYasha?” she coaxed in a tone that he really didn’t trust at all.

 

“I think I’ll stay up here, thanks,” he grumbled sarcastically. “Anyway, I thought you said you had to go.”

 

“I will,” she agreed as she stuffed the tiny tube of nasty-wax back into her gargantuan backpack. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? I’ll only be gone a day or so . . . .”

 

“Go, already, will you? All your yappin’s giving me a headache.”

 

“I see,” she shot back stiffly. “Maybe I’ll stay a week or two . . . I do need to catch up on my classes, anyway.”

 

InuYasha ears twitched. He knew she was deliberately goading him. He knew she expected him to yell and bluster and demand that she sure as hell better not think she was staying in her time that long. He knew that she wanted him to go with her with the ruse that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t gone forever. Common sense told him not to take the bait. Common sense be damned. “The hell you will!” he bellowed. “Damn it, wench, if you make me come after you, I’ll—”

 

Her laughter cut him off, filling the air like the sounds of tiny ringing bells. “You’ll what, InuYasha? There isn’t much you can do, if I don’t come back right away. After all, you’d have to come through the well to my time to get me, and you ha-a-a-ate my time, remember? You’re all bark and no bite, you know.”

 

Face shifting into his signature pout, the hanyou snorted indelicately and shoved his arms together under the sleeves of his haori. “Keh! All right, Kagome, just stay gone a day too long, and see what happens.”

 

Kagome sighed. “My time isn’t nearly as bad as you think,” she told him. “You just won’t give it a chance.”

 

“Do you remember the last time you said something wasn’t as bad as I thought?” he shot back.

 

“You’re just never going to let go of that, are you?” she asked with a marked narrowing of the eyes.

 

“Keh. No.”

 

“I told you I was sorry for that,” she grumbled, knowing that he loved to bring up ‘The Curry Incident’ to prove his point. “I forgot.”

 

InuYasha snorted. ‘Forgot, huh? After the time her mother nearly torched my tongue, she forgot that I can’t stand spices like that? Ri-i-ight . . . .’

 

“I stay here in your time more than I’m home, you know,” she pointed out reasonably.

 

“That’s because we had to find the Shikon no Kakera. You remember, the shards of the Sacred Jewel? The one you broke?”

 

Kagome glared up at him as her cheeks reddened at his blatant reminder. “I know I broke it, InuYasha. You don’t really have to remind me.”

 

“That’s debatable,” he growled.

 

“Fine,” she retorted. “Give me one good reason you won’t come with me.”

 

“Got stuff to do.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Stuff.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“What’s that mean? You think I’m lying?”

 

She apparently didn’t figure that his challenge deserved an answer because she ignored it. “I don’t know why I even bother,” she fumed instead. “Stay here, then! I’ll just go back to my time—alone—even though I have spent more time here in your era than you ever have in mine.”

 

“That’s because my time ain’t stupid!”

 

“Neither is mine!” she argued.

 

“Is, too.”

 

“Is not.”

 

“It is!”

 

“Is not!”

 

“Just ’cause you say it don’t make it true.”

 

“You know I’m right.”

 

“In your dreams.”

 

“Seriously!”

 

“Keh!”

 

“You’re just being stubborn.”

 

InuYasha snorted. Loudly. “Ain’t nothin’ stubborn about it. You’re just being stupid.”

 

He could feel the spike in her aura as her irritation shot higher. He ignored the obvious warning in it, though. “Watch who you’re calling ‘stupid’, dog-boy.”

 

“Watch who you’re calling ‘boy’, wench.”

 

“All right fine, baka. That fits better, anyway.”

 

“Bi—.”

 

“Don’t even finish that, InuYasha . . .”

 

“—itch.”

 

“Osuwari.”

 

“Ungh!” InuYasha grunted as his body crashed through the branches of Goshinboku, dragged down by a flash of light that erupted from the kotodama rosary around his neck, only to slam into the earth at the young miko’s feet.

 

Kagome planted her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly as she tapped the toe of her scuffed leather loafer while InuYasha peeled himself out of the slight indentation he’d created as he glowered at the girl’s pretty face. “Why do you always have to pick fights with me?” she complained.

 

InuYasha snorted as he spat out some dried leaves and sat up. “Keh! Me? You started it! I didn’t!”

 

“I did not!” she countered as she glared back at the half-human, half-dog-youkai as he shot to his feet and ‘keh’ed’ again for good measure.   Kagome reached out to snag a leaf out of his hair. InuYasha bared his fangs at her. She narrowed her deep brown eyes in silent threat. “Did you just snarl at me?” she asked quietly, disbelief brightening her eyes with a glint that he couldn’t ignore.

 

InuYasha snorted. “Keh! So what if I did?” he demanded, mustering as much bravado as he could.

 

Kagome’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes narrowed even more. The result was even more intimidating when coupled with the way her back suddenly straightened, the way her entire body stiffened as her miko’s aura pulled in closer. “Good bye, InuYasha,” she said as she spun around on her heel and started to stomp away.

 

InuYasha’s ears flattened at her entirely too-pleasant tone that was completely at odds with her very apparent pique. He tried to ignore the desire to dart after her. As much as he hated to admit it—and never to the girl in question—he hated when Kagome was truly angry at him, especially when he actually had started the fight.

 

‘Keh! Who cares if she goes back to her era?‘ he fumed, trying not to wince as a sudden emptiness settled over him; the same emptiness that Kagome always left when she passed through the time slip. ‘I don’t need her, anyway, not really. She just gets in the way, and then I have to save her. Trouble—save—trouble—save . . . It’s a vicious cycle. Pathetic human.’

 

Still, as hard as he tried to convince himself that he meant what he said, a part of him couldn’t help but miss her, too, and the more he tried to ignore the sudden feeling of melancholy, the more acutely he felt the emptiness. Leaping back into the protective shelter of Goshinboku, the hanyou flopped against the tree trunk as he jammed his arms together under the generous cover of his haori sleeves with a loud snort and a telling drooping of the ears.

 

‘See if I go after her! I won’t, not this time! Not till she admits that her time ain’t so great . . .’

 

 

:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:O:

 

 

‘InuYasha no baka,’ Kagome thought with a scowl as she fell through the gentle light and space of the time slip. ‘I’m not going back till he comes to get me, and then he can apologize for always putting down my era.’

 

Feet touching down on the solid ground as the darkness above closed in on her, she sighed. “Right, Kagome. He’ll apologize about the time that pigs start flying. Irritating, stubborn dog-boy! Why does he always have to argue with me? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he likes it or something . . .”

 

Her voice echoed off the cold stone walls surrounding her, and Kagome wrinkled her nose. With a heavy sigh as she swung her backpack over her shoulder, she reached for the ladder and started the long climb out of the well.

 

She should be used to InuYasha’s constant picking. She’d put up with it for nearly a year, since the day she first fell through the Bone Eater’s Well on her fifteenth birthday. InuYasha tended to be brash and surly, disagreeable and grouchy, but he also had his moments. Kagome winced as she braced her hands on the ledge and hoisted herself out of the darkness.

 

‘Okay, he does have his moments. I just wish he’d choose to have them more often.’

 

Jogging up the stairs and sliding open the well-house doors, Kagome squinted as she stepped outside into the bright sunshine. Everything looked exactly the same as it had two weeks ago—the last time she’d come home. The shrine grounds were neat and tidy, as always. The flowers bloomed in the bed around Goshinboku as the ancient tree’s branches swayed in the gentle afternoon breeze. It simply wasn’t a day that lent itself to gloomy thoughts or feelings of anger. Too bad that’s exactly where her thoughts were. With a sigh, Kagome brushed off her bleak thoughts and pulled the doors closed before skipping down the steps and striding toward the shrine.

 

‘Pocky, of course, for Shippou . . . Sango didn’t really ask for anything, but I know she loves the body wash. I’ll get her another bottle of that. Miroku . . . I should get him some ointment. He’s been slapped more often this week than he has in a long, long time.’

 

“Because he’s a fucking pervert,” InuYasha’s assessment echoed in her head.

 

Kagome frowned. ‘No, there’s more to it than that . . . something’s bothering Miroku. He hasn’t been this bad since Sango joined the group . . .’

 

Just last night, she’d seen the monk staring at the horizon with such a pensive, foreboding expression. She asked him if something was wrong, and for once, Miroku hadn’t tried to hide his obvious concern. “It’s getting worse,” he admitted quietly, violet eyes scanning the horizon as he refused to meet Kagome’s gaze.

 

She didn’t ask him what he was talking about. She didn’t have to. The way he clutched his right hand—the soft click of the prayer beads that sealed the kazaana closed . . . There was nothing Kagome could do. Grasping his shoulder just to let him know he really wasn’t alone felt like such an empty gesture, but it was all she had to offer him. “We’ll get Naraku. We’ll find him.”

 

“Of course we will,” he agreed, an edge to his voice, as though he didn’t really believe her; as though he were simply humoring her.

 

Suddenly it all made sense. Miroku’s behavior wasn’t some resurgence of lechery. Maybe . . .

 

‘Maybe he knows . . . If the kazaana is spreading, then . . .’

 

Deliberately cutting off her train of thought, Kagome quickened her step as she neared the back doors of the shrine house. ‘I can’t stay. Miroku . . . He might not have that long . . .’

 

 

 

001: Debacle >>>

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A/N:

de·sid·er·a·tum: Something considered necessary or highly desirable …

From desidero –are: to long for what is absent or lost , to wish for; to miss, find a lack of.

Osuwari: archaic way to say ‘sit’ but most often used as a sit command for dogs these days. (I never use the words, “Sit, boy.” Kagome doesn’t say that to subjugate InuYasha. She literally uses a dog command. Call it a bad translation.)

Baka: idiot; fool.

Shikon no Tama: Sacred Jewel of Four Souls.

Shikon no Kakera: Shards of the Sacred Jewel of Four Souls.

Goshinboku: The God Tree.

Hanyou: half-magical creature (youkai); half-human.

Haori: InuYasha’s fire rat shirt.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from Kagome:

Why does InuYasha have to be so infuriating?

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Desideratum): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter Two Hundred Twenty~~

~Reconciliation~

–OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO–

‘A child arrived just the other day …

‘He came into the world in the usual way …

‘But there were planes to catch and bills to pay …

‘He learned to walk while I was away …’

-‘The Cat’s in the Cradle’ by Harry Chapin.

–Evan–

 

 

Gin hurried into the bright and airy kitchen humming a low song under her breath as she made straight for the refrigerator without noticing Evan, sitting in the breakfast nook with a cup of tea and a scowl on his face. The moment he saw his mother, however, that scowl dissipated, and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him at the sight of his tiny mama and her less-than-tiny belly. “Mornin’, Mama,” he called as he lifted the mug of tea to his lips.

 

Gin squeaked in surprised and whipped around to face him, nearly losing her balance when her extra girth kept going but her feet did not. “Oh, Evan!” she exclaimed softly, steadying herself on the counter beside her. “When did you get here?”

 

“Just a few minutes ago, actually,” he admitted, then nodded at the white enameled kettle on the stovetop. “Made up some hot water if you want tea.”

 

She spared a moment to stare almost longingly at the pot then sighed. “I promised your father I’d drink more milk and less good stuff,” she admitted, her face contorting for a moment, designed to let him know what she thought of the idea of drinking milk.

 

Evan grinned. “Well, some people put milk in their tea,” he remarked mildly.

 

“That sounds so gross! Why would any—Oh-h-h-h,” she breathed as her eyes flashed open wide in understanding. “That would make the milk taste better,” she decided, spinning around to retrieve a mug out of the cupboard behind her.

 

“Speaking of Cain,” Evan said with a frown, deliberately taking his time in choosing his words, “he in his studio?”

 

“Your father?” Gin asked, her voice preoccupied as she set about making a mug of tea. “Well, he’s probably up now, but he was sleeping when I came down. Is that why you’re here?”

 

“Mmm,” Evan replied in a non-committal sort of way. “I promised V I’d talk to him.”

 

Gin didn’t seem to find anything amiss in his words, and she spared a moment to cast him a bright smile before resuming her task once more, and Evan had to shake his head when she stopped only long enough to pour about a tablespoon of milk into her teacup. “He mentioned working on that sculpture for your wedding present,” she went on before sipping from her cup. Then she sighed and closed her eyes as though she were in heaven. “Oh, this is nice . . . Well, aside from the milk . . .” Then she blinked and frowned as she glanced at Evan once more. “Will you be staying long? I could make a nice lunch . . .”

 

Evan sighed and shrugged as he forced himself to stand up. No sense in delaying the inevitable, now was there . . .? “I, uh . . . I don’t know, Mama. Maybe.”

 

Her frown shifted from thoughtful to slightly worried, and Evan could have kicked himself for the change. “Is everything okay?” she asked in a brighter tone than he supposed she would have normally use—proof positive that she was more concerned than she ought to have been.

 

For that reason alone, Evan wandered around the counter to give her a hug and a loud, obnoxious kiss on the cheek. “Everything’s right as rain, Mama,” he assured her. “I just . . . I just need to ask Cain a few things.”

 

“All right,” she relented, taking her time as she sipped her tea. Staring at Evan over the brim of the delicate cup, she seemed to be considering something. “Make sure you find me when you’re done! Seems like we haven’t had much time to visit lately.”

 

Sparing a moment to smile and to step over to give her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, Evan wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t gainsay her, either. “I will, Mama. Promise.”

 

 

–Cain–

 

 

He almost missed the soft knock on the studio door. Having just taken a step back to give the painting a critical eye, Cain blinked as the abrasive sound intruded on his thoughts. “It’s open,” he called, crossing his arms over his chest, using the heels of his hands to idly rub at his sides and inadvertently smearing traces of paint onto his skin in the process.

 

“Hey, uh, Cain . . . Got a minute?”

 

Scowling at the paint he’d managed to get all over himself, Cain spared a moment to glance over at Evan and nod. “Sure,” he said, reaching for a work cloth to clean himself off, only to succeed in adding to the mess since he’d been using it to dab his brushes on, too. “Um . . .” he drawled, jerking his head in the vague direction of the bathroom. “It’s ‘Dad’, and let me clean this up, first . . .”

 

Digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Evan shuffled forward, following in Cain’s wake. “If, uh . . . If you’re busy, I can come back later . . .”

 

Glancing up a he stuck a clean white washcloth under the running tap, Cain shook his head quickly, casting Evan an apologetic kind of glance. “No, it’s fine,” he assured him quickly. There was something weird in Evan’s aura, a sense of reluctance, of complete reservation, and Cain wasn’t sure why. “I just need to get this off me before I forget about it.” Rubbing at the drying paint smears, he frowned. “What do you need?”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Evan slumped back against the shower stall, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered Cain’s question. “I . . . I don’t need anything, Cain. I just . . . just wanted to . . . talk.”

 

That got Cain’s full attention. Frowning thoughtfully as he stared at his son’s reflection in the plate glass mirror over the sink, he nodded slowly and dropped the washcloth on the counter. Something about Evan’s stance, the reticence that he was trying to hide . . . “Okay,” he said, leading the way out of the bathroom, lifting a hand to gesture for Evan to follow. He said nothing as he crossed the floor to the small sitting area at the far end of the studio, Sitting on the sofa, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and waited for Evan to sit down, too, before asking, “Is this something about the lighthouse or the wedding . . .?”

 

Evan made a face and quickly shook his head, and for the briefest of moments, time seemed to reverse, bringing to mind Evan as a small boy when he’d had to confess that he’d accidentally knocked Cain’s cake off the counter because he was running through the house with the first bokken he’d just been given. Cain smiled at the memory and wondered vaguely just what could inspire Evan to make that same kind of expression now.

 

Turning his head to the side, Evan scowled at the far wall, as though he thought maybe he could find the answers he sought written there. “V,” he said at length, haltingly, hesitantly. “She . . . She asked me to talk to you about . . . about things . . .”

 

Cain’s nostalgic smile dimmed then disappeared, and he gave the smallest shake of his head. “What kind of things?”

 

Heaving a sigh that seemed almost defeated, Evan let his gaze drop to the floor under his feet. “Just things . . . like . . .” Face screwing up into a disgusted grimace, Evan quickly shook his head again. “Like . . . Ah-h-h, this is stupid!” he growled, shooting to his feet, striding around the coffee table as he headed for the door.

 

Cain stood up, too. He wasn’t exactly surprised by Evan’s show of temper, but there was something else there, too—something that Cain couldn’t quite put his finger on but there, nonetheless. “Evan, wait,” he called after him. Evan stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around. “What’s this all about?”

 

“Nothing,” Evan grumbled, still refusing to face Cain. “It’s not important. Go back to your . . . well, whatever you were doing.”

 

“No,” Cain insisted, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the smudged and rumpled khaki pants. “I want to know what’s on your mind. I want to know why . . .” He made a face that Evan didn’t see. “If this is about yesterday, I apologize. I really wasn’t trying to say that I thought you weren’t taking things into consideration, and I’m sorry if you thought that I was.”

 

Evan snorted indelicately, his shoulders slumping forward as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Just yesterday, huh? Nothing about the million other times you’ve just assumed I was a damn idiot without bothering to ask me anything first, right?”

 

Cain blinked, more in reaction to the raw vehemence in Evan’s tone than because of the actual accusation. “I’ve never—”

 

“Bullshit, you’ve never!” Evan snarled, his words warped slightly, enough for Cain to understand that he hadn’t opened his mouth to utter them. The crackle in Evan’s youki spiked, jagged, sharp, as though it could keep everything—or maybe just Cain—away. “That’s all I’ve ever gotten from you, isn’t it? The only faith you’ve ever shown in me is that you know that I’m always gonna fuck everything up, right?”

 

Shaking his head as though to refute Evan’s claims, Cain took a step toward his son, but stopped. “That’s not true. I—”

 

“Forget it,” Evan growled once more, his words galvanizing him into action as he started toward the door again. “Settle things with you? Keh! How the fuck can you tell me why you’ve never wanted m—” Biting himself off with a very decisive snort, Evan shook his head again. “Dumbest damn idea, ever.”

 

“Evan!” Cain called, striding after Evan to intercept him, only to draw up short when Evan slammed out of the studio so hard that the door creaked and groaned against the hinges. The sound echoed in the quiet as Cain tried to figure out exactly what had set Evan off. ‘Never . . . Never wanted . . .? Him . . .? But . . . that’s not . . . Why would he think . . .?‘

 

 

–Evan–

 

 

Slamming out of the studio, Evan was so absorbed in his own anger, his own emotions, that he smacked right into Gin. She squeaked in surprise as he caught her, steadied her. “Mama . . . sorry,” he muttered. It took another moment for him to get his rampant fury under control, and, willing himself to take a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes for a moment and struggled for a semblance of calm, forcing a smile that he hoped would fool Gin. It didn’t.

 

“Evan? What’s going on?” she asked gently, concern marring her brow as she reached up to touch his cheek. “Why are you fighting with your father?”

 

Giving up the pretense that wasn’t working anyway, Evan let out a deep breath and furiously shook his head. “It’s nothing, Mama. At least, nothing important.”

 

She didn’t look like she believed him. “It didn’t sound like ‘nothing important’,” she pointed out in a carefully reasonable tone. When he refused to volunteer anything more, she sighed and reached for his hand, dragging him down the hallway and toward the stairs.

 

He let her lead him through the house and into the kitchen, and she finally let go long enough to heft the giant cookie jar she always kept fully stocked. “Sit with me,” she said, her tone light and pleasant as always but with an underlying sense of purpose that he couldn’t ignore.

 

Seeing no way around it, Evan slipped into the breakfast nook but shook his head when Gin nudged the jar toward him. “V . . . V wanted me to try to talk things out with Cain,” he finally admitted.

 

“Did the two of you have a disagreement?”

 

He shook his head. “Not exactly . . . Not unless you can call my whole life one massive disagreement, anyway.”

 

“What do you mean?” she demanded, unable to keep the nonchalant tone that she had previously managed to maintain. “Your whole life . . .?” When he didn’t answer right away, Gin sighed softly, shaking her head, gnawing on her bottom lip in a troubled sort of way. “The two of you used to get along so well, Evan. I . . . I just don’t understand . . .”

 

Uttering a terse snort, Evan flopped back in his seat, his foot hammering up and down in a nervous kind of cadence. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” he grumbled.

 

“Did . . . something happen?” she asked carefully, as though she needed to measure her words.

 

“Not really,” Evan admitted grudgingly. “I mean, nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

Gin sighed, her ears flattening as she winced. “Evan, your father . . . He loves you, you know? I mean, he doesn’t really come out and say it all the time, but surely you know—”

 

“Do I?” he interjected, his gaze blazing as it locked with his mother’s. Too many memories of different things over the years—too many to count, too many to list—and the underlying knowledge that he just had never really measured up . . . “All I’ve ever been is a disappointment,” Evan concluded with a furious shake of his head. “That’s all he’s ever seen in me.”

 

Gin’s soft gasp was audible in the ambient quiet. She drew herself back as though he’d struck her, blinking quickly as a wash of suspect brightness entered her gaze. “That’s—That’s not true!” she insisted, the hurt inspired by his words, a palpable thing. “Your father’s just as proud of you as he is of your brother and sisters! Why ever would you think any differently?”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Mama!” Evan complained. Cutting himself off abruptly, he made himself take a deep breath, willed himself to calm down before he really managed to upset her even more. “He stuck me in the basement away from everyone else,” he said in a tone so low that she had to struggle to hear him. “He couldn’t even be bothered to have any pictures taken with me, ever. The only time he has anything at all to say to me is when he is telling me just what I’ve done wrong, and God forbid that anyone ever find out that Zel Roka and Evan Zelig are one in the same . . .” Pausing for a moment to drag his hands through his hair, Evan shook his head once more. “Hell, he couldn’t even be bothered to attend my college graduation, now could he? It kind of speaks for itself, don’t you think?”

 

“But,” Gin began slowly, shaking her head in obvious confusion, “of course he was at your graduation, Evan. Why in the world would you think otherwise? As for Zel Roka . . .” Trailing off, she suddenly stood, reaching over to grab Evan’s hand, to haul him to his feet once more. “Come on.”

 

“Mama? What . . .?” he said but allowed her to drag him out of the living room once more. Through the living room, into the foyer, and around the corner into Cain’s study, she led him, not stopping until they were standing in front of a small bookshelf near the far windows. On that shelf were CDs—Evan’s CDs—every last one of them, but that wasn’t Gin’s target. No, it was a small leather-bound book, and she picked it up, turning it over a time or two, before sticking it in Evan’s hand and stepping back again. “What’s this?” he asked, frowning down at it. Upon first glance, he figured that it was a very small photo album, but it didn’t seem to have any pictures in it.

 

“Just look at it, Evan,” Gin encouraged gently.

 

Sparing a moment to stare at his mother, Evan slowly lifted the cover.

 

Inside the plastic-pocketed pages were stubs—ticket stubs from various concerts he’d had in the area, even as far away as Massachusetts—and all of them were from his shows. There had to be at least seventy-five or more of them, all carefully stuck into the pages of the book. “What . . .?”

 

Gin laughed softly, sadly. “We never miss one in this area,” she admitted with a shrug. “Even the shows that sold out so fast, Cain’s always managed to get the tickets.”

 

Blinking slowly as he tried to understand the meaning of it all, Evan leafed through the pages once more. “I could have gotten you tickets if you’d just told me you wanted them,” he muttered.

 

Gin giggled. “Your father said that it wouldn’t be right, that you made your money from performing,” she said. “Besides, it’s always so exciting, being in the audience!”

 

‘All right, so he’s been to some of the shows . . . That doesn’t mean . . .’

 

‘I don’t know, Evan . . . Maybe there really is more to it than you thought . . .’

 

“When your last CD came out, your father and your brother stood out all night in line with all these teenagers, waiting for the store to open,” she went on. “Sydnie and I took them coffee and blankets. It was so cold, but your father was afraid that they’d sell out of he waited to go in the morning. They always make sure that they get your CDs the day they’re released . . .” As the memory faded, so did Gin’s smile, and as her gaze cleared once more, she sighed.

 

Evan wasn’t sure what to think of that. Bubby and Cain, waiting out in the weather, all night to get his CDs? That was entirely ridiculous, wasn’t it? There wasn’t any way in the world they’d do that . . . was there . . .? But . . .

 

“Your father loves you, Evan . . .” Suddenly, she grimaced, her gaze skittering away as a hint of a blush crept up her cheeks. “Maybe it’s my fault,” she admitted quietly. “Cain always held Sebastian, you know? So . . . so I told him that you were mine, that he had to let me hold you and baby you . . . You were . . . and Cain . . .” Shaking her head, she paced the floor, uttering a soft laugh that was tinged with a little sadness. “You know, he’d try to take you with them when they went to pick out the Christmas tree. But I . . .” Wincing as though she were ashamed of what she was about to say, Gin sighed. “But I always wanted to keep you close to me . . .”

 

“You . . . did that . . .?” Evan couldn’t help asking as year after year of memories rushed to the fore—always asking if he could go, the strange look that Cain always got on his face, like he might have wanted to take Evan along, and yet . . . And yet, Evan had never stopped to think about what those expressions meant, had he . . .?

 

Still, the other things . . . The explanations of a few minor details did not really change the bigger picture, and there were far too many instances of the same thing that couldn’t just be wiped away.

 

Gin slipped her arms around him, gave him a reassuring hug. “You know, Evan, maybe . . . maybe you should go look at the gallery—really look at it, I mean,” she suggested.

 

Evan shook his head, unsure why she would suggest that, all things considered. “What difference would that make?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at his mother.

 

She shrugged a little too off-handedly. “They say the easiest way to understand an artist is through his art, right?” she replied lightly. “I just thought that if you looked at your father’s work, maybe you’ll see something you haven’t noticed before.”

 

Evan digested that in silence as Gin leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Casting him a warm smile that trembled just the tiniest bit, she left him there alone to think.

 

‘Keh! What the hell is there to ‘think about’?‘ Evan fumed, dropping the book onto the shelf again before turning on his heel and heading for the door. ‘Completely useless . . . Sorry, V, but there just isn’t any ‘fixing’ some things . . .’

 

It wasn’t at all like her family, was it? They made their mistakes, sure, but they hadn’t stopped loving Valerie, and as far as he could tell, Cain had spent much of his life barely tolerating a son who hadn’t been able to fit into the perfection of the Zelig family framework.

 

‘Yeah, but maybe your mama has a point,‘ his youkai voice remarked slowly. ‘Maybe there is more to it. I mean, strictly speaking, Mama sucks at lying, you know? And she really seems to think . . .’

 

‘Of course Mama thinks that this is all in my head,’ Evan scoffed though his tirade had lost some of the overwhelming anger. ‘It’s second nature to defend Cain, isn’t it? He’s her mate, after all.’

 

‘And you’re her precious baby,’ the voice shot back dryly. ‘So maybe instead of doing all this for you or for V or for whatever reason, maybe you should consider trying—just trying—for the sake of that woman instead. After all, you can’t really think that leaving her in the middle like you always do can be a fun thing for her, either.’

 

That thought drew him up abruptly. Standing inches in front of the door, he let his hand drop away with a heavy sigh. ‘All right; all right: point taken.’

 

It wasn’t as though he honestly believed he’d get any real answers out of anyone, least of all Cain. It really wasn’t that Evan truly believed that Cain was really trying to be a jackass about everything, either. No, a part of him had to wonder, didn’t it, if everything had just become a habit to Cain, that his indifference might just be something that he didn’t really think about at all.

 

Or maybe he was the one who had grown to expect it.

 

Still, there were so many times, so many instances and examples. Even Valerie had noticed, too, hadn’t she? He’d realized a long time ago that the photo albums that Gin had so carefully and lovingly put together really didn’t have even one photo of him with his father—not one. So many pictures of Gin holding him while he slept or playing with him on the floor, Gin holding onto the back of the bicycle that he’d first learned to ride. Gin catching him as he flew down the slide at the park, Gin, Gin, Gin . . .

 

Even so, he found himself moving toward the stairs once more, not really knowing just what it was that his mother thought he would see, unable to reconcile the sense of resignation that he’d carried around for so long when it came to his father with the strange and foreign hope that maybe, maybe . . .

 

“I just thought that if you looked at your father’s work, maybe you’ll see something you haven’t noticed before . . .”

 

Evan couldn’t rightfully recall the last time he’d bothered to wander through the gallery housed on the second floor of the mansion. Maybe he’d avoided it, knowing what was never there. As silent as a tomb, the room was, filled with the underlying odors of paint and canvas, of linseed oil and a hint of turpentine. But those smells were faint—a human nose likely wouldn’t be able to discern them. Partial walls had been constructed, hung with paintings, illuminated by soft spotlights. Pedestals of varying height were carved out of some of the structures, adored with statues of varying medias. Most of the paintings near the front of the gallery were ones that he’d seen so many times—too many to count—paintings that had evolved over time, telling the story of the Zelig family through pictures. Progressions of various family members as they grew from infancy through adulthood, insular moments in time, captured so expertly by an artist’s eye, a craftsman’s hand . . .

 

And Evan had to admit that there was something spectacular about his father’s ability to project such feeling. He’d always respected Cain’s work as an artist. Maybe that’s what made it all the more painful in retrospect: the idea that Evan . . . Had he ever commanded that kind of thought, that kind of dedication from Cain?

 

‘Entirely unfair, Evan, and you know it,’ his youkai voice chided gently. ‘You know damn well that all those paintings of you and Gin . . . He made those, too, and with as much care and deliberation as he’s ever devoted to any of his other masterworks.’

 

Why was it so easy for Evan to look upon those pieces, to tell himself that the devotion had gone into immortalizing Gin on the canvas and not Evan? And yet . . .

 

As he wandered slowly from painting to painting, pausing now and again to touch a sculpture, to run his fingertips over the roughened texture of the dried paint, he frowned. Jillian, standing before a huge window, her hand resting lightly on Evan’s arm as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, careful not to muss the wedding dress she wore . . . Bas with Bailey draped around his throat, with Olivia in his arms as Sydnie leaned in for a kiss . . . So many moments that Evan hadn’t even realized that Cain had witnessed, all captured in minute detail . . .

 

Frowning thoughtfully, he shuffled further on, but stopped in front of a different painting—one he hadn’t seen before. It was him—Evan—standing on a stage, accepting his bachelor’s degree, but there was something odd about the picture . . .

 

He hadn’t thought that Cain was there, had he? At the time, he’d brushed it off, smiled at his mother, and insisted that he couldn’t hang around for a family dinner, that he’d had plans with some friends that were leaving the next day to go home. Gin had seemed upset over the entire affair, but for once, Evan just didn’t have it in him to give in, to pretend that everything was all right. Ignoring the protests, the interrupted insistence that he wait, that he listen, Evan had given his family that carefree grin and waved a hand before darting off again. It had felt like one defection too many, hadn’t it, but . . .

 

But the angle of the view in the painting and the photographs that he’d seen later . . . He hadn’t ever stopped to think about that, had he?

 

‘Cain . . . Cain was there . . .’ he realized with a start. Cain hadn’t sat with the rest of the family in the audience, no. He’d moved around to the other side, watching everything, snapping pictures . . . and Evan . . .

 

“Your, uh,” Cain cleared his throat, jamming his hands deeper into the pockets of his rumpled khaki slacks, “your mama said she thought you might be in here.”

 

“Cain . . .”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Cain tried to smile. It ended up more of a grimace, though, as the strain in the air thickened and settled over them both like an invisible fog. After a minute, Cain cleared his throat once more and shrugged. “I’ve been . . . been trying to figure out why you’d think that I never . . .” he grimaced, “never wanted you. That’s never been true, Evan.”

 

Evan wasn’t sure what to say to that, but somehow, the idea of arguing it further just wasn’t as appealing as it used to be. Turning on his heel, he took a few more steps, his gaze shifting over the collection of paintings. Cain fell into step beside him, and neither had much to say as they slowly perused the gallery.

 

Pausing before a painting that Evan hadn’t seen before, he jerked his shoulder in that general direction. Tanny, who looked to still be a toddler, sitting on the counter in the kitchen with a pretty white dress concocted of yards and yards of antique white lace with two handfuls of Cain’s cake hovering before her cake-smeared face and an angelic expression illuminating her gaze. “Sami seen that one?” Evan asked, more than a little surprised that Cain would paint such a scene, given that he hated sharing his cakes with anyone. Then he saw the brass placket under it, bearing the title, “The Cake Thief”, and he chuckled.

 

“She saw it,” Cain remarked, wrinkling his nose, obviously still quite irritated over the entire affair. “She wanted to take it home, but your mother wanted to keep it.”

 

“At least she’s better about it these days,” Evan pointed out since Tanny, now five years old, had at last learned that Cain’s cakes were sacred.

 

Cain snorted indelicately. “Not that well,” he grumbled. “Last week, I caught her sneaking crumbs.”

 

Heaving a sigh and slowly shaking his head, Evan shot his father a droll glance. “That’s pretty sad, Cain,” he remarked.

 

“I know it,” Cain replied. “You’d think she’d know by now that her grandma makes those for me.”

 

Opening his mouth to offer a rebuff, Evan snapped it closed before he could. That wasn’t exactly what he had been thinking, but pointing out to Cain that stealing a few crumbs wasn’t really the same as trying to take the whole cake was rather a moot point, as far as Cain was concerned.

 

But the traces of amusement brought on by the Tanny discussion faded away when Evan glanced at the next painting on the wall. Another one he hadn’t seen before, certainly—a hazy, smoky, dark piece: a lone figure on a backdrop of inkiness, of burring lines and almost insular motion. As though the figure was the only thing worth seeing, it took a moment for it to sink in: the image on the canvas . . .

 

Noticing Evan’s preoccupation, Cain pulled his hand out of his pocket long enough to flick his fingers at the painting almost dismissively. “Did that one a couple years ago, I guess,” Cain said quietly, almost absently, as though he were trying to remember the specifics. “It was after one of your shows in Portland,” he went on, his tone taking on a stronger sort of lilt. “Not that you have bad shows, of course, but something about that one was particularly memorable . . .” Then Cain suddenly laughed, more of an exhalation, a breath, than anything. “It’s weird, you know . . . I see you up there, and then I think about other times . . . like when you were smaller and you’d drag that, uh . . . that blue plastic guitar around . . .? Or . . . Or when we made up that waffling song . . .”

 

“The Waffling Song,” Evan repeated, a trace of a smile quirking his lips. The Waffling Song—a child’s misunderstood version of the Wassail Song . . . ‘Cain . . . He remembers that . . .’

 

Cain sighed, digging a rumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and taking his time as he shook one out and lit it. Staring up at the ceiling so high above, watching as the tendrils of smoke rose and dissipated, he gave an offhanded shrug. “Your mom said . . . Why didn’t you ever tell me that you didn’t like the basement?” he asked quietly.

 

Evan blinked and shot Cain a quick glance, but he couldn’t really tell what he might have been thinking.   Just staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing much of anything . . . “It’s . . . It’s not that I didn’t like it,” Evan replied. “It just seemed like . . . like you were trying to distance me—trying to get rid of me or something.”

 

That got Cain’s attention quickly enough. Evan could feel the intensity of his father’s gaze though he didn’t look to verify it. “That’s not . . . Evan,” he said, and maybe it was genuine surprise that halted his words, “You liked to stay up, to play your music and stuff,” he explained. “We thought about soundproofing your room, but I thought . . .” His smile suddenly seemed a little sad, a little lost, and maybe he was second-guessing himself, the decisions he’d made years ago. “Your mom said that it’d be cool to put in a little studio for you down there,” he went on almost philosophically. “There was more room in the basement . . .”

 

He hadn’t stopped to think about that before, had he? Concentrating instead on the proximity, the idea that he, unlike Bas or Jillian, was being moved out of the upper levels . . . That wasn’t what Cain had been trying to do, and maybe . . .

 

Drawing a deep breath, Evan tried to brush off the last lingering doubts, and yet, there was one thing: one big thing . . . “All right,” he allowed, a forced neutrality entering his tone, “then tell me, Cain—not that it matters, I guess, ’cause it kind of doesn’t—why didn’t you tell me you were at my college graduation?”

 

Cain blinked and gave his head a little shake. “I . . . I thought you knew,” he finally said. “I mean, why wouldn’t I have been?”

 

Was it true? All of those things that Evan had perceived over time . . . Had he been wrong?

 

‘It’s possible,’ his youkai voice remarked slowly. ‘So quick to assume that your father has always treated you like an afterthought, but you know . . . I . . . I don’t think that’s true . . . Do you?‘

 

Always so quick to assume that he understood the meaning behind it all, Evan had to wonder just how many things had been altered by his own desire to see them in a certain light. Was that . . . Was that what Valerie was trying to make him understand?

 

He winced inwardly, stealing a surreptitious glance at Cain once more. Gaze trained on the image of Evan on stage, there was a certain level of recrimination just below the surface that Evan could feel. Regret that he hadn’t told Evan these things before, maybe . . .? Or could he simply not comprehend just how much anger Evan really had been trying to hide . . .?

 

And suddenly, Evan realized something: something he hadn’t really considered before. Maybe Cain didn’t truly understand him, or maybe he did, Evan wasn’t sure. But maybe that didn’t really matter, after all because Cain . . .

 

“I, uh . . . I guess I never got a chance to tell you,” Cain began slowly, shuffling his feet, rolling his shoulders as though he were trying to diminish his stature. “I was really proud of you that day . . . and I’m . . . I’m really proud of you now, too.” Then he chuckled and glanced at Evan for just a moment before his gaze flickered back to the painting once more. “I mean, at least you weren’t kicked out of college for fighting.”

 

Evan chuckled despite himself at the not-so-subtle reminder that Bas had, indeed, been expelled from law school for that very reason. “Yeah, well, don’t take it too hard, Cain,” Evan relented, breaking into a tiny smile as he shifted his gaze to his father’s face once more. “Guess there are things I never told you, too.”

 

Cain met his stare and raised his eyebrows. “Like what?” he asked almost hesitantly, and Evan supposed he couldn’t blame him for that, either.

 

“I . . . I went on to grad school,” he admitted.

 

That seemed to surprise Cain. “Did you?”

 

Evan nodded. “I was going to tell you. To tell the truth, I was going to surprise you by just inviting you to my graduation, but . . .” Trailing off with a grimace since he knew well enough why he didn’t bother to do that, he shrugged. “I ended up missing it, anyway.”

 

Grasping Evan’s shoulder, Cain pulled him around to face him, irritation surfacing on his father’s features. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Graduate school? That’s a huge deal!”

 

Holding up his hands to stave off whatever lecture Cain was gearing up for, Evan shook his head. “Sami was missing,” he explained with a simplistic shrug. “She was more important than anything. To be honest, it slipped my mind at the time, and by the time I remembered it afterward . . . Well, it just didn’t seem as important as everything else.”

 

Cain didn’t look like he agreed. “You don’t think we’d have wanted to hear about this?”

 

Again, Evan shrugged, but he also smiled. “It’s not like I can go around, calling myself Dr. Zel Roka—though that’d be kind of cooler than shit . . .”

 

“Doctor . . .” Cain repeated, his tone a mix of wonder and amusement. “So what’d you get your doctorate in?”

 

“Music theory,” Evan replied simply. “I mean, it’s not like I could deliver babies or anything.”

 

Cain chuckled, too, clapping Evan on the shoulder. “You know . . . Why don’t you call Valerie? Tell her to come on over, and we’ll go out to dinner. Celebrate your accomplishment, even if it is a little late.”

 

Evan opened his mouth to tell Cain that it wasn’t a big deal, that it was fine. Instead, however, he uttered a chuckle, but there was nothing dry or sarcastic to the sound. “All right,” he agreed. “You paying?”

 

Cain laughed. “Sure. I’ll call your brother—see if he and Sydnie can join us.”

 

Evan watched as Cain strode away, watching as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear before slipping out of the gallery once more.

 

“I want you to find out the reasons why you feel the way you do. You . . . You’ve taught me just how precious family is, Evan. If there’s even the smallest chance that you can come to terms with your father, then I want you to.”

 

As her words resounded in his mind, Evan’s grin widened. All right, so there was a good chance that Valerie was going to do some gloating when he told her, but that was okay. The understanding he’d gained was well worth it, wasn’t it?

 

‘Of course it is.‘

 

Evan chuckled and pulled out his cell phone, too. ‘Yeah,’ he allowed as he brought up Valerie’s number and dialed it. ‘Yeah, I guess it is.’

 

 

 

221: Haste to the Wedding >>>

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A/N:

‘The Cat’s in the Cradle’by Harry Chapin originally appeared on the 1974 release, Verities and Balderdash. Copyrighted to Harry Chapin and Sandra Chapin.

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Reviewers

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MMorg

Media Miner seems to be having issues with reviews, including looking up older ones.   Sad, but I seriously think this site is dying a slow death. Starting with P10, updates will post to my blog, so if you’re not following it, you might want to, and comments are easier left on the blog, as well—and I can respond to them, too, which is nice.

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cutechick18 ——— amohip

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Final Thought from Cain:

A … doctor …?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Subterfuge): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 2~~

~Charity Case~

 

 

Madison sighed as she hurried up the wide stone steps onto the Zelig family’s front porch.  If she had been thinking a little more clearly earlier, she would have remembered that she’d left her cell phone on Valerie’s nightstand.  As it was, she’d been home in the middle of cleaning guns with her father when Shar, one of the girls at her main salon, had called her parents’ house phone, grumbling about being out of a certain brand of conditioner, and just why wasn’t Madison answering her cell?

 

Her father hadn’t done more than offer a distracted little grunt when she said that she’d left the device in Valerie’s bedroom and that she was going to go over there to pick it up.

 

‘Are you sure you’re just not looking for a reason to go back?’

 

Wrinkling her nose at her youkai voice, Madison shook her head and squared her shoulders before raising her hand to knock.  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.  What other reason could there possibly be?’

 

‘Oh, I don’t know . . . a mysterious stranger that you ran down on the stairs, maybe?’

 

Madison could feel her cheeks heat up as she shrugged.  ‘That’s just ludicrous.  I don’t even know him; at least, not really.’

 

‘But that doesn’t mean you can’t get to know him, does it?’

 

‘Ignoring you now,’ she thought with an indelicate snort as she drew her hand back to knock.

 

She didn’t get a chance to do it.  The door swung open, and she stepped back just in time to avoid colliding with a very angry looking Mikio, who didn’t seem to have noticed her standing there.  Realizing a little too late, he jerked back and pulled himself up short, using his hand on the door to steady himself.

 

Madison swallowed hard, ignoring the way her heart lurched in her chest as she smiled a little timidly and cleared her throat.  “Hi again.”

 

He blinked once, twice, left ear twitching horribly, and for a moment, Madison wondered if he could really be that agitated.  “H-Hi,” he stammered.

 

“I forgot my cell phone,” she explained quietly.

 

Mikio didn’t appear to have heard her.  The anger that flashed in his eyes dissipated, leaving behind a curious sense of wonder as he stared at her.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

She giggled then sighed as she slowly shook her head.  “Are you okay?”

 

He seemed taken aback at her question, and he blinked in relative confusion for a moment before opening and closing his mouth a few times, as though he were at a loss for words.  “What?  Oh . . . yeah . . . fine.”

 

Biting her lip, Madison wondered if she hadn’t overstepped her boundaries, if she weren’t being just a little too intrusive for his liking.  “I’m sorry.  You just looked a little . . . upset.”

 

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, waving off her concern despite the hint of irritation that had resurfaced in his expression.

 

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t push it, either.  Reminding herself that she really didn’t know him well enough to ask such personal questions, Madison shrugged and nodded toward the doorway he was blocking.  “So . . . may I get my cell phone?”

 

Mikio’s cheeks pinked as he realized that he was in her way, and he quickly stepped back.  Grimacing as his face lost much of its color, he caught hold of the doorframe again, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  Madison didn’t think.  Stepping toward him, steadying his elbow, it was her turn to blink in surprise when he shot her a weary, shy smile—wan at best, but so completely endearing that, for a moment, she couldn’t think of  a single thing—not even her own name.

 

“You’re not okay, are you?” she finally asked, her voice quiet, as though speaking in a normal tone might hurt him.

 

He grimaced and leaned heavily against the wall.  “Airplanes . . .” he managed, closing his eyes.

 

It took her a moment to interpret his reply.  Then she recalled Evan mentioning before that Mikio tended to have more trouble than the rest of them in coping with the strains of air travel—something to do with the rapidly changing air pressure, and it made sense.  “The airplane?  Oh . . . I’m sorry . . .”

 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, cheeks finally pinking up again, and even though the color obviously stemmed from acute embarrassment, Madison couldn’t help but feel relieved.

 

Even so, she also couldn’t help but sympathize with him, too.  Of course he would want to be here for his nephew’s wedding, but if traveling affected him so badly . . . Well, it had to be frustrating, to say the least . . . “Maybe you should go for a walk or something?  Fresh air . . . I could go find Gin . . . or your mother . . . she’s here, right?”

 

Mikio grabbed her wrist as Madison whipped around to find Kagome.  “Not her,” he hissed, his whisper imploring as his eyes met hers.  “Not Mama.”  He grimaced and let go of Madison’s wrist.  “Please.”

 

Madison frowned in confusion but nodded.  “All right,” she agreed slowly.  “If you’re sure . . .”

 

Swallowing hard, he squeezed his eyes closed for a second before managing another weak smile.  “You’re right.  Fresh air.  I think that’d help.”

 

“Okay . . .”

 

He pushed himself away from the wall, his movements stilted, almost mechanical.  He took a few steps onto the porch but stopped suddenly and glanced over his shoulder.  “You . . . would you come with me?”

 

Madison didn’t think twice.  Pulling the door closed behind herself, she fell in step beside Mikio as the hanyou shuffled down the steps onto the flagstone sidewalk.

 

“Is that why you don’t come here to visit as often as everyone else?  Because of the airplanes?”

 

Mikio shot her an inscrutable glance as he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and shrugged.  “Sort of.”

 

“I mean, I’ve been friends with Evan for . . . forever, I guess . . . and I don’t remember seeing you, other than the couple times when I was still pretty young . . . and at Bas and Sydnie’s wedding . . .”

 

“I hate flying,” he remarked.  “That’s all.”

 

“You’re a lot quieter than your brothers.”

 

He paused mid-stride for only a moment, his back stiffening almost imperceptibly, as though her question was more of an accusation than an observation.  “Is that bad?”

 

She laughed, remembering the outrageous things that she’d heard over the years; the stories about the Izayoi twins.  “Not necessarily.”

 

“I’m not really like them,” he explained quietly.  “I’m not really like anyone, I guess.”

 

Madison nodded as the pebbly ground gave way to the finer sand near the ocean.  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she pointed out with a gentle smile.  “Granted, I don’t have much room to talk, given that Evan is one of my best friends, but I have to admit that there are things I wish hadn’t happened—and most of those were his idea.  I just went along for the ride.”

 

“So Evan’s the instigator,” he replied with a curt nod, as though that made perfect sense.

 

“Well, maybe not entirely,” Madison admitted.  “But the things that normally ended up badly for me usually were.”

 

“Sounds like what aniki and Kichiro-nii say about their exploits.”

 

She smiled to herself at perceived cuteness in the way that Mikio referred to his brothers.  “Too bad those are some of the best stories,” she went on to say.  “Don’t tell Evan I said that, though.”

 

“Understood,” he said with a curt nod and an overly-serious expression.  Then he sighed and shook his head.  “I guess sometimes I wish . . . I wish I was more like them . . .” He uttered a short chuckle that was almost sad.  “Well, sometimes, anyway . . . I don’t think I’d want to get into trouble like they did . . .”

 

Mikio took a few more steps before sinking down to stare at the sky over the water.  Something about him seemed so . . . almost melancholy that Madison bit her lip and frowned.  For some reason, she didn’t really feel like she could ask him why he seemed so upset, so she figured that the next-best course of action would be to see if she could make him laugh, instead . . . “If it makes you feel any better, the first time Evan took me out on his motorcycle, I ended up puking off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

 

He shot her a quizzical glance and then uttered a terse laugh.  “You did?”

 

She made a face as she sat, cross legged, beside him.  “Might have been because he insisted on seeing just how fast he could make the thing go.  I thought he was going to kill himself or me—maybe both.  He’s sort of an ass that way.”

 

Her story had done the trick, and Mikio still looked amused when he asked, “How’d you meet him?”

 

She laughed as she considered that question.  Easy enough to say that she’d known Evan for so long that she didn’t really remember not knowing him, but everything had to start somewhere, didn’t it?  And she’d heard the stories often enough, even if she was a little young at the time and didn’t rightfully remember it completely anymore.  “Mom brought me over.  I was three, I think . . . he threw my doll into a tree and got stuck when he climbed up after it.”

 

He thought about that for a moment then shrugged off-handedly.  “Maybe you should have left him up there.”

 

Madison grinned.  “That’s what Cain said.”

 

Mikio started to say something but stopped, as though something had just occurred to him, and he slowly shook his head.  “Wait . . . you’re the one he was telling me about, right?  The one he set the dog loose with?”

 

Madison groaned.  In one of his moments of bored inspiration, Evan had rigged up a harness for his dog, Fugly, and he’d gotten Madison to sit on the little sled, strapped in so that she wouldn’t fall out, just before he’d set off a string of fire crackers to galvanize the animal into action.  It had taken almost an hour to get Fugly to stop running—and yipping—and to this day, Madison wasn’t quite sure how Evan had ever talked her into that stunt . . .

 

“Yeah, that was me,” she confessed.

 

“Evan bragged about that for a year,” Mikio remarked with a slow shake of his head.

 

“Figures.  I’m not sure why I stayed friends with him.”

 

“Looking into becoming a saint?”

 

Madison giggled at the teasing tone in his voice.   “A saint?  Oh, I don’t think that’d ever happen . . .”

 

“Why not?”

 

She ducked her chin.  “Well, let’s just say that I doubt I’d meet the requirements.”

 

Taking his time as he slowly rolled up the cuffs of his long sleeved white dress shirt, Mikio didn’t speak.  Madison smiled, noting the deliberateness of his movements, the almost lethargic sense that surrounded him.  Even the shadows that fell on him in the darkness of the night didn’t quite seem to affect him in a normal way.  Maybe it was simply because, dressed in khaki slacks and the white shirt with his silvery hair and pale skin, he almost seemed to glow.

 

Snorting at her own whimsical thoughts, Madison shook her head and sighed.  ‘He’s just a guy . . . just like every other guy, right?  He’s wrapped up in a nice package, sure, but in the end, he’s just the same, isn’t he?’

 

‘When did you get so cynical?’

 

‘Am I?’

 

‘Aren’t you?’

 

Madison shifted her gaze out over the expanse of water in the moonlight.  ‘Maybe I am . . .’

 

“You live around here?”

 

Blinking as she cleared her mind and stole a glance back at Mikio only to find him staring off in the same direction she had been just moments before, Madison cleared her throat.  “My mom and dad do.  I normally live in New York City.”

 

He grinned a little, lopsided, shy sort of grin.  “You strike me as a metropolitan girl.”

 

“How so?”

 

He shrugged, his gaze shifting to meet hers though he didn’t turn his head.  “Polished, I guess . . . do you even own a pair of jeans?”

 

Glancing down at the short black suede skirt and matching suede thigh high, stiletto heeled boots, Madison laughed.  “What are jeans?” she joked.

 

He chuckled, too—an entirely pleasant sound.

 

“So what do you do for a living?” she asked, bending her knees and weaving her fingers together under her legs.

 

“Me?  I’m a lawyer,” he replied.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

He seemed genuinely confused by her apology.  “Sorry?”

 

She giggled.  “They say lawyers are boring, is all.  Then again, Valerie’s a lawyer, and she’s not boring . . . of course, that might be because I try to save her from herself, but I’m not sure . . .”

 

He chuckled softly.  “I see.”

 

“So are you?”

 

“Am I, what?”

 

“Are you boring?”

 

“Hopelessly, yes.”

 

“You mean you don’t have anyone to save you from yourself?”

 

“Nope,” he chuckled.  “I turn them all boring, too.”

 

She laughed.  “Somehow I doubt that.”

 

“Well . . .”

 

“Are you feeling better now?”

 

Madison could have kicked herself for having said that.  The easy laughter died away, and he cleared his throat as his gaze fell to the sand around his feet.  The random twitching in his ear hadn’t gone away though it had diminished somewhat.  He checked his watch, holding down the little switch that made the front glow in a pleasant aqua color, and winced.  “It’s nearly midnight,” he told her.

 

Madison frowned as she stared at the hanyou.  “Why don’t you have a concealment on?” she blurted before she could think about it.  True, when youkai gathered, concealments weren’t necessary, but since the wedding would involve some humans—mostly Valerie’s guests—everyone would have to remember to hide their youkai attributes before the guests arrived.

 

Mikio reached up, touched his ears, blushed as when he realized that she could see them.  “Oh, I, uh . . . it must have slipped.

 

“Yeah . . . sorry about that,” Madison apologized again.  Tumbling down a staircase, she supposed, would be a big enough shock to loosen the concealment, and she’d seen his ears then, too.

 

“About what?”

 

“The stairs,” she admitted as he stood up and brushed himself off before offering her a hand to help her to her feet.  Ordinarily she’d ignore such an archaic gesture of chivalry.  She slipped her hand into his and let him help her.

 

“Oh, that,” he mumbled.  “Not the first time I’ve fallen down the stairs.”

 

Something about his quiet admission made Madison stop for a moment.  He seemed almost angry . . . or was he more . . . resigned?  ‘Strange,’ she thought.  ‘Strange, indeed . . .’

 

“Looks like Evan’s at it again,” Madison remarked as the two neared the mansion.

 

Mikio sighed then shook his head.  “He’ll never learn.”

 

“Of course not.  I told V there’s no way he’d give up so easily.  She’s probably upstairs laughing at him.  I would be . . .”

 

“He was here earlier,” Mikio supplied, stopping to watch the entertainment.  Cain was standing on Valerie’s balcony, leaning over the railing to watch as Bas and Gavin tackled Evan to keep him from trying to climb up.  Gunnar ran around the side of the house, hollering something about impatient grooms with Morio close on his heels.  Mikio laughed.

 

“That’s just shameful,” Madison remarked but laughed anyway.

 

“He ought to give up.  I think Zelig-san’s going to sit outside Valerie’s door all night.”

 

“You think so?”

 

Mikio nodded.  “Papa says it’s because Zelig-san was forced to sleep at Kichiro-nii’s house before his wedding . . . if he had to suffer, so do his sons.”

 

“You mean there’s a method to the madness?”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

Madison laughed and reluctantly made a face.  “Thanks for the walk, Mikio.  I think I’ll check on Valerie, grab my phone, and head home.  I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

 

He blinked and shook his head.  “Tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, tomorrow . . . the wedding?”

 

“Oh, yes, that . . . okay.”

 

Madison turned to leave but stopped when the resistance in her arm brought her up short.  She was still holding Mikio’s hand.  Letting go with a mumbled apology, she crossed her arms over her chest and hurried toward the mansion, willing herself not to blush as she stepped into the light spilling through the windows from the great glass doors.  Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the doors open and strolled into the house, unaware of the bright golden eyes that watched her hasty retreat.

 

“I almost feel sorry for Evan,” Valerie commented without turning away from the window when Madison slipped into her room.  Staring down at the spectacle that resembled a football game, she was smiling as she shook her head and sighed.  “Almost.”

 

“He’s earned it,” Madison agreed, grabbing her cell phone before wandering over to grimace at the pile of bodies wiggling around on the yard below.  “That just looks wrong.”

 

“It does, doesn’t it?  I figured you’d be back for your cell.”

 

“Uh oh . . . looks like they’ve gotten caught,” Madison mused as InuYasha, with Toga and Ryomaru in tow, stomped into view.  The hanyou reached down to yank someone to his feet.  He got pulled into the fray, too.  Minutes later, the mass of dogs in the pile had grown.  Madison caught sight of Cain on the balcony.  The youkai shook his head and sat back in a plastic lawn chair, kicking his feet up on the railing as he knotted his hands together behind his neck.  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was grinning, though it was impossible to tell for certain.

 

“I’ve got to hear this,” Valerie said, nimble fingers working the lock before she pushed the window open.

 

Madison wrinkled her nose at the hot air that invaded the air-conditioned room but she leaned forward to listen, too.

 

“Will you let go, damn it!” InuYasha snarled at someone.

 

“Oi, jiji!  That’s me!” Ryomaru growled back.

 

“Then get the hell outta my way!”

 

“All right, whoever’s got their hand on my ass had better move it . . .” Morio growled.

 

“That’s your ass?  Damn, it’s fucking huge!” Evan scoffed.

 

“Baka, you’re not going to make it to your own wedding if you don’t move your kami-forsaken hand!”

 

“That has to be one of the strangest families I’ve ever met,” Madison remarked as she pushed on the window sill, rising up to peer over Valerie’s head toward the beach . . . toward the place where she’d left Mikio standing.  He was still there, hands in pockets, and while she couldn’t see his face where he stood, she had the feeling that he, too, was laughing.

 

“I’m sure everyone thinks that about their future in-laws,” Valerie replied.  “It’ll be no different for you.”

 

“Don’t curse me,” Madison said.

 

“Curse you?  So I didn’t see you walking up from the beach with Evan’s uncle?”

 

Madison snorted and turned around.  “Well, look!  I found my cell phone, and I think I’ll be going now.”

 

“You’re such a chicken,” Valerie pointed out.

 

“I am not.  You’re just crazy.  I think your wedding dress is a little too tight.  It’s been cutting off the oxygen supply to your brain.”

 

“He’s not really your type, is he?” Valerie pressed, giving up all pretenses about watching the scuffle in the yard below as she peeked over her shoulder.

 

“What do you mean?” Madison asked, unable to repress the hint of defensiveness in her tone as she slowly turned to face Valerie again.

 

Valerie waved a hand dismissively.  “Just not that flashy, you know?  He’s like . . . the anti-rockstar.”

 

“He’s nice.”

 

Tuning away from the window, Valerie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the frame.  “So?”

 

“So, what?”

 

Eyes sparkling as she grinned at her friend, Valerie shrugged in a show of deliberate nonchalance.  “So was holding his hand nice, too?”

 

Madison whipped around before Valerie got a chance to see the heightened color in her skin.  “You’ve lost your mind,” she grumbled.

 

“Details, Maddy!  Did you kiss him?”

 

“Night, V,” she grumbled as she reached for the doorknob and gave it a rather vicious twist.

 

“Was it nice?”

 

“I wouldn’t know because I didn’t kiss him,” Maddy shot back.

 

“Mad-dy!”

 

“It’s not too late to find another maid of honor,” she tossed over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.  She could hear the muffled sound of Valerie’s soft laughter and grimaced.

 

“He’s not really your type, is he?”

 

Scowling as she strode down the hallway to the staircase, she sighed.  ‘No,’ she agreed, smiling sadly at the memory of the way he’d looked, sitting on the beach in the moonlight.  ‘He’s really not my type at all . . .’

 

 

–OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO–

 

 

“Kami, that was harsh.”

 

Mikio chuckled as Morio flopped onto his back in the grass beside him.  “Evan finally give up?”

 

Morio shot him a dark look.  “Are you kidding?”

 

Mikio shrugged.  “You’d think he would.”

 

“You’d think . . .”

 

Leaning up on his elbows, Morio let his head fall back to gaze up at the stars.  “So why are you out here instead of inside with everyone else?”

 

Mikio sighed and idly fingered his left ear.  “Just . . . quieter.”

 

“So . . . I noticed you were talking to that girl . . . umm . . .” Morio asked, rolling his hand in an effort to remember the name in question then snapping his fingers when it apparently came to him.  “Madison, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed then grimaced, glancing around in a decidedly nervous sort of way.  “Did . . . anyone else notice?”

 

Morio nodded.  “Nope . . . Don’t worry . . . In all the chaos, I’m pretty sure that no one else saw the two of you together.  They were kind of busy at the time.”

 

Mikio nodded.  “Good.”

 

“She’s a sweet girl . . . a little wild, but nice enough.”

 

“Wild?”

 

Morio shrugged.  “Well, she is Evan’s friend.”

 

“I see.”  He tugged a handful of grass and watched as the blades slipped through his fingers only to fall softly back to earth again.  “She’s . . . pretty . . . don’t you think?”

 

“Maddy?  Sure . . . yeah . . .”

 

Mikio grimaced as the first rumble of faraway thunder rumbled in the air.  “You, uh . . . think . . . she and Evan . . .?”

 

Morio sat up, scratching the back of his neck as he considered Mikio’s question.   “I don’t know . . . does it matter?”

 

Mikio wrinkled his nose as he fought down a furious blush and shook his head.  “No . . . no . . . I just wondered.”

 

Morio sighed.  “You’d be hard-pressed to find a virgin in this day and age, especially among youkai.  Thank your brother for that, I guess . . .”

 

Scowling at the rapidly clouding sky, Mikio nodded.  “I know.  It’s not . . . I’m not interested; I just . . .” He trailed off with a wince.  “Yeah.”

 

He could feel Morio staring at him, even if he stubbornly refused to look for confirmation.  “Not interested, huh?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Morio chuckled.  “Mikio, it’s okay be interested.  Any single man with a pulse would be interested in a girl who looks like Madison Cartham.”

 

That comment didn’t actually comfort Mikio; not at all.  The first droplets of rain hit his face, his bared arms.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m going back home in a couple days, anyway.”

 

Morio sighed and slowly got to his feet.  “‘Course you are.”

 

Mikio shrugged.  “And she . . . she’ll go back to New York City.  That’s where she said she lives.”

 

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Morio flicked his ears to shake off the descending moisture.  “Mhmm.”

 

“So I won’t see her again after the wedding.”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Unless I went to the city, and why would I do that?”

 

Wisely stifling his amusement behind a well-placed cough, Morio shrugged.  “No need to convince me, Mikio.”

 

“I-I know.”

 

“Unless it isn’t me you’re trying to convince.”

 

Mikio didn’t answer as Morio shuffled back toward the mansion.  He was lost in contemplation of the girl with the violet eyes.

 

 

<<< 001: Spreading the Love

 003: The Favor >>>

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

Final Thought from Morio:

Violet eyes …

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Anomaly):  I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga.  Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al.  I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~

~~Chapter 1~~

~Spreading the Love~

~o~

 

 

“Spit it out, Maddy,” Valerie Denning—soon to be Valerie Zelig—said as she glanced up from brushing her hair to meet the steady gaze of her best friend and maid of honor.

 

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to do it,” Madison Cartham groaned, wrinkling her impish little nose melodramatically.

 

“Of course I’m going to do it,” Valerie scoffed. “I adore Evan—even when he’s being a big, fat jerk.”

 

Madison snorted indelicately, tugging the brush from Valerie’s slack hand and dragging it through her glossy blonde locks. “As if I didn’t know that.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“You know what. You’re not seriously going to try lay a guilt trip on me, are you?”

 

Valerie cleared her throat and blinked innocently. “A guilt trip? Over what?”

 

“Over the fact that I’m single, and happily so.”

 

Valerie made a face and shrugged. “Would I do such a thing?”

 

The brush paused mid-stroke, and Madison heaved a sigh. “I believe you would; yes.”

 

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

 

“Come off it, V. It’s a documented fact that people in love tend to make it their mission to hook up all their single friends, regardless of whether said-friends want it or not—and the happier and more disgustingly in love the couple is, the more likely they are to try to play Cupid.”

 

“Disgustingly in love?” Valerie echoed with a little grin.

 

“Absolutely disgusting,” Madison agreed amiably.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t do any such thing,” Valerie protested, feigning a hurt expression that was completely ruined by the soft giggle that slipped from her. “Then again, would it be so bad? Just think about it—a steady man to do all those things for you that you hate doing, coming home to the same person every night—someone who knows you and adores you . . . worships the ground you walk on . . .”

 

Madison set the brush aside and picked up a rattail comb. “Oh, my God, it sounds worse when you put it that way,” she maintained, carefully dividing off a section of hair before jamming the comb between her teeth and reaching for a large plastic curler.

 

“It’d be nice to see you settled down and happy.”

 

“You’wah foahgetting one fink,” Madison grumbled around the comb.

 

“Oh? And what’s that?”

 

“My fafah.”

 

“Your father’s a pushover.”

 

Madison paused long enough to roll her eyes as she pulled the comb from her mouth and parted another section of hair. “Not with guys he isn’t, or did you forget that he’s got enough guns and ammunition to wage a small war?”

 

Valerie laughed as she pulled her notebook and pen from the table and idly tapped the pen’s cap against her lips. “You make it sound like your father’s stockpiling for a hostile takeover,” she pointed out idly then quickly shook her head. “Let’s see . . . I double checked the caterers, called the florist to make sure everything was set, had the final fitting for my dress this morning . . . Did I forget anything?”

 

Madison blinked a few times and slowly shook her head. “You know, Evan’s probably sitting at Bas’ house trying to figure out a way to escape.”

 

Valerie spared a moment to peer up at Madison’s face to see whether or not her friend was being serious. “He can be good for one night,” she remarked.

 

Madison giggled at the hint of foreboding in Valerie’s tone. “And I’m going to go join a convent right after your wedding,” she scoffed.

 

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Madison snorted indelicately. “Yup. I went in to have my habit fitted while you were stuffing yourself into that sausage casing you like to call a wedding dress.”

 

Valerie choked on a giggle since she was the one who had aptly dubbed the dress she’d chosen as the sausage casing from hell. Skin tight to the hips where the skirt flared out around her in a billowing mass of silk and chiffon, she had grumbled more than once that she wasn’t sure what she was thinking when she’d bought the dress just weeks before. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Her mother liked the dress, too . . . “Figured I’d make Evan work for it.”

 

“He’s got claws, you know.”

 

Valerie ducked her chin as a heated flush broke over her skin. “Oh, I know he does.”

 

Madison laughed. “Anyway, what was the verdict about the piercings?”

 

Valerie sighed. “His father said that he had to take them out for the wedding since the generals are going to be there, but you know Evan . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves at least one or two in, just to irritate Cain.”

 

“Just make sure he keeps the tongue one in.”

 

“That goes without saying.”

 

“Like it, do you?”

 

Valerie grinned. “Just a little.”

 

“So where is he taking you on your honeymoon?”

 

Her friend’s smile faded, and Valerie grunted in response. “You mean he didn’t tell you?” she asked, looking more than a little hopeful.

 

Madison shook her head. “Actually, no. He said I’d tell you.”

 

Valerie’s lips twitched though she didn’t smile. “Well, you would.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Madison didn’t deny the claim. “Of course I would.”

 

“Because you love me.”

 

Madison giggled. “Damn right. Unfortunately, Evan knows that, too. So why did you think I’d know?” She shrugged, securing the last curler in place before dropping the comb onto the table top and brushing her hands together.

 

“Figured you’d have weaseled it out of him by now,” Valerie admitted.

 

“Nope . . . he’s being uncharacteristically stubborn about this.” Madison stepped back, satisfied with the task of setting Valerie’s hair. “I’ll be over tomorrow to take those out and arrange your hair. Touch it and die, woman—understand?”

 

Valerie laughed and stood up, hurrying to hug Madison before she could take her leave. “You sure you won’t stay here tonight?”

 

Madison laughed and kissed Valerie’s cheek with an obscenely loud pop. “I’d love to stay and wax nostalgic with you, dear, but I promised I’d help Daddy clean his guns tonight.”

 

Valerie stopped and shot her friend a quizzical glance. “You’re not serious, are you?”

 

Madison sighed, unsure whether it was more depressing that she really wasn’t kidding or that she had actually agreed to it.

 

“He hasn’t gotten the baby a gun yet, has he?”

 

Madison grinned, mostly because baby that Valerie was referencing wasn’t even born yet. Cartham hadn’t said as much, but Kelly had remarked to her earlier that her father had been absolutely thrilled when he had found out that they were expecting a boy—Madison’s as-yet unseen brother. “No, but I’m sure it’s coming soon, even if Mom objects on principle.”

It was something that most people really didn’t understand, she supposed. Closing the bedroom door behind herself as she paused in the dim hallway long enough to allow her eyes time to adjust, Madison figured that for folks who didn’t know Deke Cartham, it would be hard to explain. Her earliest memories were of standing by her father’s knee while he slowly, methodically cleaned and oiled his guns. At least he’d waited until she could walk before taking her outside and lining up soda cans along the fence. He slipped earphones over her tiny head, pulled her into his arms, helped her steady the small pistol, and he’d taught her how to fire the weapon.

 

“Girls don’t learn how to fight. Protection is a man’s job,” he’d told her. “But I’d be worthless, wouldn’t I, if I didn’t teach you how to survive.”

 

She smiled as she hurried down the hallway, digging her car keys out of her purse without pausing in her stride. For her high school graduation gift, her father had given her a Colt .45, and not just any Colt .45 but the same one she’d first learned how to fire—her father’s favorite gun.

 

So absorbed in her memories, so bemused by the trip down memory lane, that all the talk of weddings and stuff inspired in her, Madison wasn’t paying attention as she rounded the corner and ran toward the stairs.

 

A whoosh of breath, a grunt escaped her as she barreled into a solid chest. The scream that welled in her throat slipped out but was bit off as sinewy arms locked around her. She tumbled down the stairs with the stranger, unable to see more than a flash of silver, the blur of motion.

 

They smacked into the banister on the middle landing, and the unseen face of the man she’d run down finally came into focus. Madison grimaced as she pushed herself up on her elbows, curiously eyeing him, unable to stop her blatant perusal. Golden eyes . . . silver hair . . . little white hanyou ears . . . He was unmistakably Izayoi, and dizzily, headily, she felt her heart skip a beat only to hammer hard against her ribcage like a wild thing trying to escape its confines. The man had yet to let go of her, not that she really minded. Still, propriety reared its ugly head, and she blushed. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

 

“N-No, it was m-my fault,” he stammered as blood rushed into his cheeks in late response to the predicament they found themselves in.

 

Madison blinked and tried not to let her blush darken. “No, really . . . it was mine . . . I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I didn’t realize you were coming upstairs . . .”

 

He blinked, too, pink tingeing his cheeks. “Oh . . . I . . . your eyes . . .” he said quietly.

 

“My eyes?”

 

He winced as the pink darkened to a rosy red. “They’re beautiful.”

 

“Th-Thank you . . .”

 

He grimaced, casting her an almost apologetic sort of glance. “You’re . . . poking me . . .”

 

“Wh—?”

 

Gasping as she realized she was, indeed, poking her keys into his stomach, she jerked her hand back and bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Did I . . . hurt . . . you?” he asked, letting go of her at last and slowly climbing to his feet, offering his hand to help her up.

 

“I’m youkai; I’m tough,” she said, her voice almost reedy as she offered him a wan smile.

 

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “I-I’m Izayoi Mikio,” he said with a low bow. “H-Hajimemashite douzo yoroshiku.”

 

“Oh,” she breathed with a little nod. “I know. I’m Madison—Madison Cartham . . . maid of honor, I suppose.” She giggled suddenly, and Mikio’s frown deepened. Waving her wrist, she covered her mouth with her free hand. “I met you before, a long, long time ago. I was just a child, though . . .”

 

He looked confused for a few seconds, then he shot her an uncertain little smile that was gone about as quickly as it had appeared. “Hmm, yeah . . . Evan’s friend?”

 

She grinned at the quizzical look on his face. “And Valerie’s.”

 

“Understood.” He cleared his throat as though he were nervous. “Are you staying here tonight?”

 

“Actually, I was just leaving,” she replied, stepping back and nearly tumbling off the landing.   Mikio’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, and he let go as soon as she steadied herself with a hand on the banister.

 

His cheeks reddened a little more. “Oh . . . right . . .”

 

She shot him a contrite smile. “Sorry again . . . I wasn’t really trying to maim you or anything.”

 

Mikio grimaced. “I’ve taken worse falls than that.”

 

“It was nice meeting you,” she remarked with a smile.

 

He nodded and bowed again. “Likewise.”

 

Madison turned and hurried down the stairs, heart thundering in her ears as she bit her bottom lip and made a beeline toward the front doors.

 

Heat lightning illuminated the cloudy skies as Madison strode to her car. Pausing with her hand poised on the door handle, she lifted her face up to the heavens and frowned. The past few days had been hideously hot, almost humid, and she hoped that it would rain. ‘V’s wedding needs to be perfect. Sweating on your big day is bad form, after all . . .’

 

As if in answer to her silent musings, a gust of wind blew off the ocean, and she could almost feel the rising humidity that bespoke a healthy rain.

 

Letting her gaze fall away from the sky, Madison gasped, her heart lurching wildly in her chest as she caught sight of the lone form in the second story window—the window she knew was at the end of the hallway. She wasn’t sure if Mikio could see her staring back at him or not. Slowly, hesitantly, she waved. His silhouette straightened, and he lifted his hand to return the gesture.

 

“Your eyes . . . They’re beautiful . . .”

 

A sudden giggle bubbled up in her, spilled out into the night as she opened the car door and slid behind the steering wheel.

 

 

–OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO–

 

 

Mikio stared up at the starry, inky sky and heaved a sigh as his right ear flattened against his head. The left one twitched madly—the aftereffects of the dizzy spell that landed him flat on his back. He grimaced, willing the appendage to still. The twitch worsened.

 

“Holy damn, Mikio,” Evan Zelig said as he leaned over, hands on knees, peering down at Mikio’s face. “That was a hell of a fall.”

 

“I didn’t . . . notice,” Mikio lied, wincing as he tried to ignore his twitching ear.

 

“Didn’t notice?” Evan echoed incredulously as he sank down on the grass beside his uncle. “If you say so . . .”

 

Mikio made a face. “You can stay out of her room for one night, can’t you?” he asked, waving his limp hand in the vague direction of the third story balcony that Evan had been trying to reach.

 

Evan grinned unrepentantly. “You’re assuming that she wants me to stay out.”

 

“Nee-chan said it’s bad luck for you to see Denning-san before the wedding.”

 

The grin widened. “The hell you say! Bad luck would be me, standing at the altar with a boner. I think the neighbors would gossip about that . . .”

 

Mikio rolled his eyes and started to sit up only to flop back when the stars started spinning overhead. He sighed, willing the dizziness to pass. “You don’t possess even a modicum of shame, do you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“There you are. Come on, you little ass.”

 

Mikio shifted his eyes to the side, catching sight of Evan’s older brother as Sebastian rounded the corner of the mansion. Spotting Mikio lying on the ground, Bas stopped for a moment and shook his head before loping over to them and slapping Evan across the back of the head before sinking down between Evan and Mikio. “Trying to sneak in Valerie’s window, were you?”

 

Evan laughed, rubbing his head as he shrugged. “Like you thought I wouldn’t?”

 

Bas snorted. “Pfft! I knew you would. I just didn’t think you’d sabotage me. You’ve reached new lows, Evan.”

 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Bubby . . .”

 

“You mean Evan has even lower lows?” Gunnar Inutaisho drawled as he and Gavin Jamison slipped out of the shadows on the other side of the assembled men. Gunnar sat down, too, and Gavin knelt, leaning his weight on his forearms placed on his knees.

 

Mikio managed to push himself up and hooked his hands around his legs, letting his forehead drop against his knees for a minute as he regained his composure.

 

“What’d you do this time?” Gavin asked in an almost foreboding tone of voice.

 

Bas crossed his arms over his chest and snorted again as he frowned at his sibling.

 

Evan scratched his head. “You should be glad, you know. You got to benefit from it, after all.”

 

Bas rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly the point.”

 

Evan grinned once more. “So I don’t see the problem.”

 

“What did you do?” Gavin asked calmly.

 

“Nothing . . . just slipped Sydnie some catnip.”

 

Gunnar whistled. “Yep, that’s low, all right,” he agreed. “Low enough that I’d slap you across the back of the head if I were Bas.”

 

“He already did that,” Evan grumbled, taking a step away from his brother for good measure.

 

“If we beat the hell out of him tonight, do you think that he’d make it to his wedding tomorrow?” Gunnar mused. “After all, it’s not like he hasn’t already had sex, so it wouldn’t really be anything new to him . . .”

 

“Speak for yourself, asshole,” Evan grouched.

 

“Tell me again: how did you trick a level-headed girl like Valerie into marry you?”

 

He grinned unrepentantly. “See, she likes my tongue ring . . .”

 

“Oh, hell, you walked right into that,” Gavin said with a wince as he slapped Gunnar’s shoulder amicably.

 

“Yeah, he did,” Evan gloated.

 

“Definitely asking for a beating,” Gunnar contended.

 

Evan rolled his eyes as Bas turned thoughtful. “You know, that’s not a bad idea . . .” Bas mused slowly, scratching his chin as he stared at his sibling.

 

“There will be no beating on your brother, Bas,” Cain stated as he stepped out of the glass doors from the living room and glanced over his shoulder to ascertain exactly where his mate was. She must have been well out of earshot for his next comment, though. “But if you do, don’t leave any marks where your mother might see them.”

 

“Fork it over, old man,” Morio Izayoi remarked, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers as Cain grimaced but reached into his pocket for his wallet.

 

“I said an hour,” Cain grouched as he fished out a fifty dollar bill and slapped it into Morio’s waiting palm.

 

“And I said ‘less’.”

 

“You were betting on me?” Evan demanded, alternating his incredulous stare between his father and his cousin.

 

“Yes,” Cain said evenly, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket once more, “and you just cost me fifty bucks.”

 

“We should have gotten in on that one,” Gunnar muttered to Gavin. Gavin nodded sagely.

 

Morio chuckled, stowing the money into his pocket as he reached down to help Mikio to his feet. “You all right?”

 

Mikio nodded, clenching his jaw and ignoring Morio’s offer of assistance as he slowly stood, grimacing at the stiff soreness in his shoulders. Slipping away from the gathering since they could keep Evan from scaling the mansion in order to sneak into the bride-to-be’s room, he trudged toward the doors, blinking as the brighter light blinded him momentarily.

 

He appreciated their understated show of support, of course. Ever since he could remember, they’d all sat down whenever he’d ended up flat on his back. Lately, however, it had begun to grate on his nerves. They shouldn’t have had to do such a thing, should they? Mikio sighed. Best not to think about it, he decided. ‘Damn it . . .’

 

Cain watched him leave before slowly turning back to eye his sons. “What happened?” he asked.

 

Evan grimaced.

 

“He caught you trying to sneak in Valerie’s window, right?” Gavin guessed.

 

“Somethin’ like that,” Evan grumbled. “He leapt up after me and lost his balance . . .”

 

Cain rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Another dizzy spell?”

 

“It wasn’t my fau—Yes, sir,” Evan replied, catching the darkening in his father’s gaze.

 

“Mikio’s fine,” Gunnar cut in, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he slouched against the solid trunk of a very old white ash tree.

 

“Getting dizzy and falling over constantly isn’t really fine,” Cain remarked mildly, digging a cigarette out of a rumpled pack he carried in his breast pocket.

 

“Yeah, well, he mentioned something before,” Gunnar went on, turning his gaze skyward. “Said that Gome-oba-chan and Yasha-jiji used to argue about that a lot. I think he just stopped talking about it to keep them from fighting.”

 

“They fought over his dizzy spells?” Cain asked.

 

Gunnar shrugged. “Sure. I vaguely remember my parents talking about it. Gome-oba-chan thought that Mikio had problems with his inner ear.”

 

“And InuYasha didn’t?” Gavin put in.

 

“Not exactly. I don’t remember . . . I wasn’t very old then, myself. I remember that Gome-oba-chan brought Mikio over, and we were playing with Kubrick while she talked to Mother . . . He had some sort of testing done, and Yasha-jiji made them stop when Mikio got scared, or so I seem to recall hearing . . . I was about three, I think, so Mikio was about five, I guess . . .”

 

“Oh, yeah . . . I remember that,” Morio added as he stared up at the stars high overhead. “Mama and the old man used to talk about that some. Guess everyone was disagreeing about it at the time.”

 

“Ryomaru agreed with InuYasha,” Cain supposed.

 

Morio shrugged. “Actually, no. Oyaji said that baa-chan was right. It’d be better to see if something could be done while Mikio was still young.”

 

“Didn’t they do some sort of testing?” Bas questioned, grabbing Evan’s arm and yanking him back when the latter tried to sneak away.

 

“The MRI,” Cain agreed absently. Kagome had called to talk to Gin about the entire ordeal. He remembered the sadness on Gin’s face as she recounted the tale for him later. Mikio hadn’t reacted well when faced with the machine that he was supposed to lie in for an hour or more while the doctors got a good look at his ears, and InuYasha, who had never been fond of anyone messing with his ears, had apparently broken the door down in his haste to get to his son, to save Mikio from the evil machine . . .

 

Cain sighed. He didn’t blame InuYasha, actually. Had it been one of his pups, he probably would have done the same thing. The instinct to protect was a fierce thing; a difficult thing to ignore, and with InuYasha’s background of fighting, of being an outcast, it wasn’t surprising that the desire to protect his own was so strong.

 

Of course, it would be a cold day in hell before Cain ever admitted that he respected his father-in-law in that . . .

 

“Come on, Evan. You might as well spend the night at my house,” Gunnar said with a sigh, pushing himself away from the tree.

 

Evan looked like he was going to protest until he caught his father’s scrutinizing gaze. “Can I at least say good night to her?” he complained.

 

Cain rolled his eyes and pushed Evan’s shoulder, sending his son stumbling after his cousin. Gunnar chuckled and grabbed Evan’s arm when the groom-to-be tried to veer off toward the mansion again.

 

Gavin shook his head. “You know, I don’t think he’s going to give up that easily.”

 

Bas nodded. “Hell, no . . . He’ll be back.”

 

Cain chuckled, breathing in a last drag off his cigarette before he tossed it away. “As if you didn’t sneak into Sydnie’s room.”

 

Bas grinned and rubbed the back of his neck as he ducked his head shyly. “That was completely different, Dad.”

 

“How so?”

 

He shrugged. “She was already my mate.”

 

 

–OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO–

 

 

“Mama says you’re still having those dizzy spells,” Gin commented a little too casually as she scrubbed the white marble counter by the kitchen sink.

 

“Did she?” Mikio muttered, trying not to fidget under his sister’s scrutiny.

 

Gin nodded as she rinsed the sponge and wrung it out. “She said that you won’t talk to her about them, though.”

 

“They’re not that bad.”

 

“‘Bad’ is a matter of perception, Mikio. Mama just worries about you.”

 

He grimaced and dug around in the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “It’s nothing,” he grumbled.

 

Gin dropped the sponge into the sink and turned around, leaning against the counter as she crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with her entirely too-discerning gaze. “I know you hated that Mama and Papa disagreed about it when you were a pup, but they both want what’s best for you—you know that, right?”

 

Ear twitching as he made slow work of swallowing a few gulps of water, Mikio couldn’t quite meet Gin’s pointed stare, either. “With all due respect, I hardly think that it’s really that important. I’m not a pup anymore.”

 

“And if you think that Mama and Papa stop worrying about their children just because we’re not pups anymore, then you’re wrong,” she remarked.

 

“They worry a little too much.”

 

“It’s only because we love you,” Kagome remarked as she breezed into the kitchen, making a beeline toward her youngest son. Mikio winced as Kagome hugged him and kissed his cheek.

 

“Mama . . .” he protested, suddenly feeling like a child getting ready for his first day of school. ‘Come to think of it,’ he thought with an inward sigh, ‘I sort of sound like one, too . . .’

 

“Will you get off it, wench? The last thing the pup needs is you hanging all over him,” InuYasha grumbled as he stomped into the kitchen, repeating the process that Kagome had just done, but his target was his only daughter. Gin giggled softly and kissed her father’s cheek.

 

“I’m not hanging all over him,” Kagome shot back before turning her deep brown eyes on Mikio once more. Her expression registered obvious concern, and Mikio braced himself for whatever his mother had on her mind. “You look peaked, Mikio. Maybe you should go on to bed.”

 

“I’m fine,” he replied, striving to keep the hint of irritation out of his tone—the same irritation that was becoming harder and harder to hide.

 

“I’m sure that everyone will understand. You really hated the airplane ride, didn’t you?” Kagome went on, fussing idly with Mikio’s bangs.

 

InuYasha snorted. “Kami, wench, I think Mikio’s old enough to decide if and when he should go to bed, don’t you?”

 

“I’m just worried, dog-boy!” she shot back.

 

Mikio shook his head as the argument escalated. Flattening his ears against his skull, he slipped out of the kitchen and strode toward the front door as quickly and quietly as he could.

 

He couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t like that. It seemed to him that his mother and father spent far too much time at odds with each other over him than they did getting along. Gin had always maintained that InuYasha and Kagome seemed to enjoy arguing. Still, Mikio couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the raised voices, the tension . . . it was completely his fault. If Mikio sneezed, Kagome was convinced that he needed to be lying in bed with a mountain of blankets and lots of soup. InuYasha, on the other hand, would tell his wife to stop being a mother hen and to let Mikio have room to breathe, and it always—always—ended up in one of those arguments.

 

Grabbing the door handle and giving it a vicious yank, Mikio nearly barreled straight into the woman who was standing in the doorway with her hand poised to knock. Brilliant violet eyes locked with his, questions awash in her gaze, and she looked rather surprised, though whether that was because he was obviously irritated or because of his sudden appearance before she could knock, he wasn’t certain.

 

As quickly as his irritation had come, it was gone. The woman smiled—eyes shining like the stars he’d been staring at earlier after trying to keep Evan from scaling the mansion walls—and for just a moment, Mikio forgot to breathe.

 

“Hi again,” Madison said, her voice soft yet sure.

 

“H-Hi.”

 

 02: Charity Case >>>

 

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A/N:

Hajimemashite douzo yoroshiku: “Pleased to meet you. Please take care of me”, basically.  The standard greeting when one first meets someone.  In this case, Mikio doesn’t realize that he has met Madison before, and even then, he was never formally introduced to her, either.

Kubrick: Japanese Lego.  They’re the same thing lol.

Baa-chan: Grandma.  All of the Japanese children would call Kagome this (her grandchildren, anyway).  Gunnar takes after Toga and calls her Gome-oba-chan (Aunt Gome).  Note: Gunnar addresses his mother as “Mother” because she’s American and that’s what he was taught.

Yasha-jiji: Gunnar’s address for InuYasha, basically, he’s calling him ‘old man’.  InuYasha’s grandsons address him as ‘jiijii’ (really old man lol).  This is also considered a rude way to address and older man.

Oyaji: There is some debate on this term as some people will translate it as ‘dad’ or ‘pops’.  Many, however, would actually translate this more as ‘old man’ in reference to one’s father. Considered to be fairly rude, one would not use this address for more formal family settings.  For example, Toga would never, ever call Sesshoumaru this, and for that matter, Gunnar would not use this for Toga, either.  Ryomaru, Kichiro, and Morio would use this form of address for their respective fathers.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Final Thought from Mikio:

… Ouch …

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Anomaly):  I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga.  Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al.  I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~