InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Deep Forest ❯ Deep Forest ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

 

 

Title: Deep Forest

 

Author: Anonymous Fangirl

 

Summary: Like a song, her presence made everything seem so much clearer. Like a song, he knew she would die. She would end. That is the way with humans. Sesshoumaru/Kagome

 

Rating: Mature

 

Dedicated: To Steven. Thanks for letting me write H I C K E Y on your neck!

 

Random Ramblings: Man, am I ever depressed. Depressed enough to make an actual effort towards writing angst. . . I hate angst. . . I blame Amanda, a.k.a. NessKitty. She's always trying to convert me. Congratulations, you finally converted me! . . . Bitch. . .

 

Genre: Definite Angst. Romance, but a lot of angst

 

Etc: Umm . . . this is a one shot, because I still have to work on Once upon a cell phone, which I am totally in love with. I hope you are too. Even if it is a Miroku Kagome.

 

 

 

Deep Forest

 

 

 

 

As we live on, we lose a little bit more. Shrouded in falsehoods and lies, we stand frozen to the spot, unable to cry out Exhausted, without the strength to search

People vanish into the infinite darkness. I'm sure that the heart I left behind

Still lies hidden in the heart of the deep, deep forest.

 

-Dream, Deep Forest

 

 

 

His Personality. She would think that he had been like this long before she had ever entered his life. He would have to agree, even though he knew it to be the perfect lie. However, he knew it to be true in the deepest recesses of his soul, if he still had one, that if he were to show her just how much he actually cared, he was afraid that she would maybe someday love him. And that just wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen. If she were to fall in love with him, then he would have no choice but to fall right back in love with her, then she again with him. It was a horrible sick and twisted cycle that Sesshoumaru knew he had to avoid at all cost. Not for his sake, no, more than anything else he wished he could tell her he loved her. No, it was for her sake. Or so he thought, for Sesshoumaru was a bit of a sadist and in the twisted inner workings of his mind, he thought that by not loving her he could protect her better.

 

Reflecting. He lay in his chambers, reflecting. He did so quite often, she would realize when she wasn't wondering what he was reflecting about now. The soft moon light that flooded the room and lit him up in an almost angelic fashion didn't quite reach her vision. . . he sat in the way, staring at his palms as if he could somehow change what his future held for him. Like any of them could.

 

A happier place. He knew the moment she had awoken. She shared a favorite past time with him. Sitting up late at night, reflecting. Trying to change the world, to make it for him as it used to be for her. A happier place. She often tried to rearrange his palace, as she did his life, as if she could somehow make his life brighter by putting up pretty wind chimes and cheerful colors.

 

Deceit. That was how she saw herself, though. A happy person. Anyone who knew her would agree that she could smile even through the worst of situations. That she could bring cheerfulness to any hardship. That none of it effected her. They would be wrong, they would be right. She wasn't sure what it was. . . it effected her, it just didn't affect her. She was a creature of great conflictions. . .

 

But they would be wrong. It did effect her. It effected her when she sat up late at night with him, hoping that something, anything would make it so that she would not have to find a reason to smile the next day. That she could simply. . .

 

Smile. He saw it as the worst of lies. A smile was supposed to show

happiness, but in this day and age, he thought with a shake of his head, nothing was ready for happiness. Nothing could accept happiness in it's purest form, as she claimed to. As she preached he could. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she believed it. But maybe, just maybe, she knew it was a lie, just as he did.

 

Death. He saw it every day. Created it even more often. Death of people you love, he had learned at an early age, was much harder than the death of the people you remove yourself from. One of the reasons he was sitting up, late at night, listening to the rythmatic hum over breathing, her chest moving ever so slightly beneath the satin sheets he had pulled up to her chin a few hours ago when she had succumbed to the exhaustion he had given her through his love-making.

 

He allowed himself to glance her way. She would die, too. She was only human, after all, and she would die long before he did. That was the way of humans, and no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he hated her, he could never fault her for being human. It wasn't her fault that god had decided to make him a sadist. . . it wasn't her fault that she was born to a weak body and soul. But she had spirit, he would admit even now. She had more spirit than any demoness he had ever known. Maybe that was the difference between them. . . maybe it was fair. She had an immortal soul, he had. . . immortality. But still, he thought with a frown, it wasn't fair. Humans were put on this earth long enough to find what they want, and taken from it before they ever got the chance to grasp what they wanted. Like water. . . their fondest wishes seemed to always slip through their fingers. . . And she would leave him, as everyone else had, as everyone else would, until he was left alone in a cruel, cruel distorted version of the world that he created in his own mind.

 

Light. Had he been darkness, she would have been light. She smiled, and her smile lit up the shadows in his soul. Light. Light that would one day, much to soon for his liking, burn out.

 

Stars. That's what demonesses were. Stars that burned dimly from miles and miles away. Light that never faded, but was always there. A constant in life, and sometimes a great annoyance. Impossible to catch, impossible to keep, demonesses were the vision of perfection. But as he looked down on her, he wondered what made beauty. She was beautiful in the truest sense of the word. But her features, her eyes, her mouth, her nose. . . millions of others had them. But the fact that they were on her. . . that's what made them special to him. . . That's what made him long to reach out and hold her to him.

 

Candle light. If he had but one word to describe her, that would be it. She was the candle that burned brightly, but died quickly. He knew that if he were to reach out now, try to hold her to him with all the strength he possessed, her life would flicker out like a candle. He had to be gentle with her, caress her softly, for fear she would leave him sooner than he expected.

 

A firecracker. Sparkling with joy, putting smiles, true smiles, on the faces of young children. But he knew better. Firecrackers were beautiful, and the gave you a smile, yes, but they burned out quickly. Sometimes they didn't burn at all, and when you went to play with them, you could often be burned.

 

Burned. That's what he would be if he fell in love with her. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy. She had been practicing, he thought with a roll of his eyes, at evening out her breathing to make it appear that she was asleep. But the thing about Higurashi was that when she did finally fall asleep, she ceased to move. Even now, for all her stillness, he could sense her moving. She was moving inside of him, like some parasite that had managed to crawl underneath his skin.

 

Alive. How much longer would she be alive? A week, a day, an hour? He asked himself this question more often than any other one. How long before she would leave him to be alone in his solitude again? Not that he minded his solitude, he told himself quickly. He smirked. How much easier it was to lie to himself than it was to Her. And what annoyed him more than that was, he thought as he brushed a wry strand of wavy black hair behind her ear, that he didn't want to lie to her. More importantly, he didn't want to have to lie to her. But he did.

 

Kagome. He whispered her name, and she stirred to life. So she had fallen asleep, he thought, eyes softening. My lord! He thought as he watched her eyes open, the sleep slowly fading from them. My lord she's a gift! A gift he planned on taking. He knew how long he had, how short a period of time it was until she died, or he died, or something tore them apart. Not nearly long enough. He thought as he slid down the length of her body and kissed the place where her neck met her shoulder.

 

Mate. He wouldn't mark her there, no. It would be a sign that she was his. Of course, he wanted that to be known, but there were too many negatives to marking her. Everyone would know what she meant to him. Her life would be in constant danger, she herself held in a constant state of scrutiny. He knew what their children would endure, so he made cautious steps to be sure she didn't get pregnant. He laced her food with a drug that he knew would destroy her uterus, not only making it so that she could never have his children but never have anyone else's either. He growled, a feral sound that passed his lips more often than it didn't. The thought of her becoming pregnant with someone else's child was enough to make him go on a killing spree.

 

Home. That's what her body was to him, he thought as he lapped at her neck. She cradled his head softly to him, as if some how she knew what was going on inside of his head, as if she somehow knew that she could never reach him, no matter how much either of them wanted her too. As if the two word meant something, Kagome smiled as she whispered them. “You alright?” She asked. No. “Yes, Higurashi, I am fine.” Only I'm not. Only I'm slowly dying from a poison to which you're the only antidote. But he would never say that. Could never say that. It wasn't his right or place to say that.

 

“I don't want you to leave me,” Sesshoumaru said in to her collarbone. He speaks his fear into her skin, hoping she didn't hear his nearly wordless confession. Praying that she did and wouldn't mention it. Praying even harder that she did and would fix it. He had an unbelievable amount of faith in her ability to make things right. He pressed her tighter against his chest, eyes closed to her shoulder. He clutched the fabric of her yukata, a soft silken one he had given her one day. He remembered the day with a glimmer of happiness. She had lifted the beautiful fabric- stared in awe at the artful painting- the way the sky faded in to autumn on the fabric, art work in clothing, she had later said. But then, the only words she had managed to get out through her speechlessness was, “Why would you do this for me?” Sesshoumaru had been taken back. Had he really been so cruel that the simple gift of a yukata had shocked her to speechlessness? Yes, he knew, even then, as he knew that he would continue to mistreat her, for fear she discover the truth about him. He remembered more vaguely how he had listened to her struggle to put it on by herself, so that she could showcase it for him at his silent request. It truly was a beautiful Yukata that belonged on a creature of such beauty. A yukata he busied himself now with removing from her.

 

Empty inside. That's what he was. Even as he emptied himself inside her, he knew that he could never be anything more than what they all saw him as. A heartless beast, cold and cruel and calculating. He knew it, he accepted it, and he knew that he could never change it. Knew he didn't want to. Knew he couldn't want to. He had learned at an even earlier age that if he focused on the things he couldn't have, couldn't grab, then he would live his life in a constant state of depression, much like he was now. Depressed that he couldn't hold her, couldn't love her, couldn't make her happy the way she deserved to be happy. He had stolen her, he knew, and he had stolen her from someone much more deserving with little to no remorse. That was how he lived his life. No regrets. But how he wished he could tell her those three. . . little. . . words. . .

 

Contradictory. He was the greatest contradiction in the world. He claimed he could handle death, that he revealed in it. But she knew the truth. She knew that there was more to his life than an endless on slaught, one battle after another, spilling blood his only way of assuring him that he was still alive. The silence was finally broken by Kagome. “What do you love?” She asked, knowing fully well it was more likely than not the he wouldn't answer, and that if he did it would probably be to say “it's none of your concern, Higurashi. But after a second, she asked another one. “What will you take on with you as your happy memories?” He was silent for a moment, and Kagome was sure that he wouldn't answer her. He often didn't. . . and that was fine. She enjoyed silence now and again. But he replied. He replied quite simple with “My solitude.” Kagome felt the anger rise up within her. That was fine with her, Kagome had said, making no effort to hide her hurt feelings that he hadn't replied with her.

 

Alone. Alone? He wanted to be alone!? Kagome had left him after that, left the castle, trying to go home to a home she had long since abandoned for him. Trying to get away from the man she would as easily give her heart to as she would to a small puppy that had been kicked one too many times. That was how she saw him. A hurt little puppy. Someone had abused him, Kagome thought with a tear as she turned back towards the looming castle. Not once, but over and over again. She didn't know what she would have done if she had been in his place. She didn't want to know. Alone. She sank to her knees and cried. Cried for injustices, cried for everything she had ever lost. It was a beautiful night, the skies so clear the stars lit it up so that you could see more white than black. But she would remember it as a stormy night, for years to come. A night where rain fell down and drowned her in her own agony.

 

Solitude. What would have happened if she had reached him in time? She would wonder for the rest of her life. What would have happened if he had told her the three words she needed to hear more than any other in the world? He said he wanted to be alone. . . but wasn't it everyone's fondest wish to not be alone? The more you assured someone you were fine in your solitude, the more and more you lied? She would have thought on it for hours, sitting in the moon lit rain that didn't fall, if he hadn't come for her. She hadn't heard him approach, hadn't seen him. She had no idea that he was there, but when he wrapped his arms around her, she knew. Knew that he was there. Right now, that was all that mattered. His one, tiny step that told her he wanted her more than he wanted his solitude.

 

Only human. Though he would never see her as that. He would have never taken her to his bed if he had seen her as only that. No, he regarded her as something of a new species, not human, not demon. She was immune to the evil of his world, casting it out, and he saw her as everyone else saw her- life and joy and everything that was good in the world was her. Still, she tried to meet his expectations. Tried to make him want to place that mark on her shoulder that would make her irrevocable, undeniably his. He would never say it, and Kagome would never know , but to him, there were two kinds of people in the world: Kagome and everyone else.

 

Stay with me. He wanted to utter those words to her, to let her know that there was some hope at least, to give her something to make her want to stay, to make her think that someday things would change, even though he knew, even then, that this was the way it was always going to be. He wanted to chain her to his side, and he thought that it was only by his unbelievable love for her and his even more unbelievable power of restraint that he hadn't done it already. He knew how she would react, and looking around to be sure no one could see, he leaned in and inhaled a breath of her hair. This was what made life worth living. He thought, a smile threatening to spill over his lips. But he would have none of that. Still. . . assuring himself it could do no one harm, he asked. Stay with me.

 

Shock. Even later, Kagome would swear she heard him wrong. Sesshoumaru never told her any words of love, never made any promises, never spoke of the future she knew they would never, ever have. He was a man of few words, and Kagome recognized what a terrible hardship it must have been to give her those three words. How much he was giving up to whisper those three word. Sure, they weren't the ones she longed to hear pass his lips, but they would suffice. Years later, even if he had never spoken a single word of love to her after those three little words, they would have sated the horrible longing in her heart. Stay with me. Kagome nodded. Of course I'll stay with you. She left out the unspoken word. Forever. It was funny, because when he said it, he meant forever as well.

 

”Come home with me, Kagome.” He said, careful to keep his tone emotionless and his eyes detached from her face. He focused on the moon- it was waning and clear and oh so much bigger than he could ever hope to be. . . if he could give it to her, he wondered, would she believe that he loved her with out the words? Sesshoumaru shook his head. Men had wondered the very same thing throughout their existence. He never thought that he would have, though. Never thought he would have allowed himself the pleasure of falling in love. He wondered if they could go there someday, if he could steal away with her and never look back, to go to a place where he could slowly open his heart and let her inside him. Her silence shook him, along with her absolute stillness. He looked down, admittedly afraid. She wasn't meant to be silent. But looking down, he was surprised to see her smiling.

 

Home. . . Kagome whispered, looking towards the castle, knowing fully well that no more kind words would pass his lips tonight, knowing fully well no more words may pass through them at all. But she simply smiled. That was his way. It was the way of the man she had fallen in love with, and her devotion to him would suffice. It would keep her going strong when he didn't say what she needed to hear. Her love for him was enough for the both of them. . . and she truly believed that. As she watched him watching her, and she knew what he could never say. Why? Maybe the word for a love that ran this deep hadn't been invented yet. Even in her time, the words weren't there. But that was alright. She didn't need the words as much as she needed him. He was everything. He was her life.

 

 

His way? Before she died, an old woman of ninety one, she would think about his way. He was proud, much, much prouder than any man she had ever known. He would slaughter thousands if they shamed him, yet. . . he sat by her bed every day then, waiting with her in silence, knowing as well as she that their time was at an end. He never told her the words she wanted to hear, but then, she wasn't a child any longer. She didn't need them as much as she had then, and knew that if she had received them then they may have spoiled her. May have made her want more. . . may have made her believe that it was possible for them to stay together forever. But they both knew that if they believed that, they would have believed anything. He hadn't aged a day, and Kagome wondered often why he hadn't abandoned her when he could no longer use her for a bed mate. Why he never took any other woman. He would think the answer was obvious. She would tell him to never assume anything.

 

A song. . . Later, many, many years after her death, and quite a few before her birth, Sesshoumaru would have been asked when he described her to his fellow men what she reminded him of. He would answer with a sad smile, “She was a song. A beautiful song.” His friends would laugh, all openly admitting they had expected him to say something else, something perverted, but never anything romantic. But Sesshoumaru shook his head. To him, she was a song. A beautiful song that rang in his ears. A melody that wouldn't leave his head, even all those years later. Like a song, her presence put everything in such clear and simple terms. Like a song, she had made his world a little more lighthearted. But like all songs, she ended much too soon. That was the way of songs. That was the way of humans. But unlike a song, he would think as he placed flowers on her grave, tears in his eyes but no sound on his lips, her melody would never be forgotten.

 

Stolen Moments For now, though, as they stared at the moon and the castle and the lands and each other, they would keep their true feelings inside. The days could pass and change, and they would never notice how blue the sky really was, for looking with longing only at each other. Wanting the one thing that neither could grab. He would wonder if he had grabbed it, if she would have been able to hold on. She, however, created no illusions for herself. She knew the truth. They would stand by each other in silence, living in the present and count each moment they had stolen together. For that was really all they had. . . stolen moments. That was their way, though. And it worked just fine for them.

 

 

 

 

Fin.