InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ All You See ❯ The Begining of All You See ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Plain white running shoes pounded against pavement, the sound almost as frustrated as the woman who wore them. Laces slapped indifferently against the canvas as the feet encased in the shoes duck and wove through the early morning traffic, deftly avoiding loafers and wingtips and pin-striped business suits to whom such shoes belonged.

The owner of such canvas shoes however, wasn’t focused on her shoes, or even on where she was going, trusting such mundane matters to her feet, which had nothing better to do. The owner of the plain canvas shoes was too busy raging at herself, wholly consumed with her own problems.

‘It’s all his fault!’ She raged internally. ‘He has to be behind this somehow.’ It wasn’t everyday that one was offered a prestigious job half a world away in an internationally acclaimed hospital, especially if they weren’t head of something else almost as good first. She surely didn’t qualify, so why had the job been offered to her?

‘Definitely all his fault.’ She confirmed, nodding decisively to herself. Things like this just didn’t happen, unless someone was influencing things from behind the scenes.

‘But why? After all these years?’ She wondered, turning the corner and stretching out into the final leg of her run, sprinting and wishing she could outrun her problems as easily. It had all ended a lifetime ago; the war that no one knew about was over, regaled to the recesses of history as a fable used to awe small children and amuse the elderly. The exterminator, and the monk who loved her, the hanyou and the priestess, the lovable fox kit and the imposing taiyoukai were myth, had never existed.

It still hurt.

Skidding to a halt on the stoop of her apartment complex, Kagome stood panting, lost in the memories. Sometimes it seemed that no matter what she did, the past was determined to haunt her.

Then again, she had given it direct access, had she not?

He had been there, after all was said and done. A single small comfort to a grieving and desolate woman-child, shattered by the lost of her friends who were more than family, and by the betrayal of the one he had held most dear above all.

Opening the door, Kagome strode inside and made her way to the elvadors that would carry her up to her fifth story apartment. Once inside, she punched the button and leaned back against the false wood of the back wall.

Neither of them, she reflected, could have known how quickly things could - and did - spiral out of control. With one fell swoop, they had chosen their course, and though they could have altered their fates many times, neither of them could have lived with themselves if they had. The past which she had been trying to run from had been brought with - for her at least - painful clarity, and had stared her in the face nearly every day since.

‘Do you really want to forget though?’ A small voice piped up from the back of her mind as she fumbled with her key.

Sighing, knowing she could lie to everyone but herself, Kagome swung open the door to her empty apartment, removing her shoes out of habit before continuing into the living room.

The room was comfortable, the sofa and easy chair over stuffed and the rest of the furnishings sparse. A few pictures were scattered about, hanging neatly on the walls or sitting docile on the entertainment center. One of her family a couple years ago, before her grandpa had died. One of her and her brother at her high school graduation, and of he and her mother at her college graduation.

One of the pictures featured a small boy, black-haired and blue-eyed, standing by a lake in a pair of swimming trunks and proudly displaying a fish almost a big as he was. A man - or what appeared to be a man, if one didn’t know better - knelt by his side in stained khaki pants and a cheap tee shirt, bright blue eyes beaming at the camera, almost as proud as the boy himself was.

Kagome stopped, stared at the picture, momentarily transfixed depite the fact tat she had seen the picture every time she stepped foot in the room. At first glance, the boy-child and the man were nearly identical. Both sported black hair and blue eyes, and unrepentant grins with a dimple winking mischievously in their left cheeks. However, on closer inspection, the boy’s hair was true black, dark enough to carry blue-ish highlights, whereas the mans was more of a brown-black, and had nearly no highlights. The boy’s hair was also fine, feathering gently around his ears and down the nape of his neck in a way the man’s did not. The elder’s hair was as straight as a pin, held tightly in a high ponytail that would have looked ludicrous had it not looked so good on him. Also, Kagome mused, picking up the picture for closer examination, the boy’s eye were a darker blue than the mans. ‘Like sapphires, not ice.’ She mused, setting the picture down once more. Everything else about the boy was a miniature mimicry of the man, right down to the stance and build of the body.

Shaking her head, Kagome turned resolutely from the photo, ignoring the slight twist in the reign of her heart as she headed for the shower.

The day was just beginning.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Half a world away, a man strode into his house at the end of another - long - day, dropping his sweater carelessly on an easy chair and pausing. From somewhere close came the sounds of a small boys laughter, on the edge of a younger woman’s gentle response. The smells of fish and chocolate permeated the air and though not usually an appetizing combination - downright nauseating really - the man smiled.

He was home.

Kicking off his shoes next to the same easy chair he had draped his sweater on, he made his was towards the kitchen and, resting lightly against the doorframe, observed the interplay going on inside. A young woman with laughing brown eyes and light, strawberry blonde hair stood in the kitchen across from the boy sitting at the island counter, waving a dish towel in a manner that she must have hoped was threatening.

“No! After you coned me into making the cookies, the least you can do is wait until after supper to eat them!”

“Awww…” The boy whined anxiously, putting on his best pleading face. “But Jenna..”

“Nope, not happening.” The girl replied, biting the inside of her cheek and turning away from the boy’s large, liquid eyes and quivering lower lip before she caved in.

Kouga chuckled from the doorway and the young woman glanced up, a blush rising fast and furious to her cheeks as she watched the man reclining in the doorway slowly unfold himself and saunter into the room. The boy on the barstool spun around, a grin lighting his features and sending the dimple in his right cheek to winking.

“Dad!” Without further ado, he launched himself off of the barstool and into the man’s arms, laughing when Kouga pretended to almost drop him, then hefting him up into his arms for a proper hug.

“You know,” Kouga commented, setting the boy down when he squirmed for release. “you’re getting pretty heavy. Have you been sneaking cookies?”

“Not by a long shot.” Ryosuke snorted. “I’ve been eating my meat! I’m almost as big as you!” To prove his point, he stretched up to his tip toes, till the top of his head came nearly level with the base of Kouga’s breast bone. “See?”

“Hmmm.” Kouga eyed his son speculatively. “I guess you have grown a bit. That’s okay though, I can just squish you back down.” Reaching out, he placed a hand on the top of the boy’s head, laughing as Ryo ducked out of the way, dancing around to the other side of the counter and the relative safety that Jenna provided. Amiably, Kouga grinned across at her, wandering around to the cupboard and grabbing a cup to fill with water at the sink.

“What are you doing here Jenna?” He asked. “Not that I mind.” He added quickly as the girl flushed again. “But I was expecting Margaret when I got home.”

“Oh- Um, well,” Jenna muttered, nervously twisting the dish towel in her hands and wishing she were a bit more…sophisticated. “It’s just that Margaret got sick and I… agreed to come over so she could go home and” she swallowed nervously, “get some rest.”

Kouga frowned. “Was she sick?”

“She’s fine Dad.” Ryosuke spoke up as he tried to scramble onto the counter next to Kouga. “Her head was hot and her stomach hurt. I told her that sushi wouldn’t agree with her.” He added.

Kouga repressed the urge to groan. Hakku, in one of his well-known fits of “genius,” had decide to try and combine native Japanese cooking with other ethnicities and the result - sushi flavored liberally with habanera powder - was enough to knock a goat on its ass.

And goats were known for eating anything…

“Well, I guess she learned her lesson then.” He said, grimacing. Sixty year old ladies, no matter how adventurous, should not try more…exotic dishes unprepared.

“Thank you for coming Jenna, and taking care of Ryosuke until I could get home.” He said politely. “And for making supper.” He added, grinning wolfishly.

Jenna smiled, putting down the dish towel as pink tinged her cheeks at the praise. “Oh, it was no problem. I’ll just be going then.”

“Why?” Kouga asked. “You helped prepare such a fine meal, you should at least stick around to enjoy it. Tell you what,” he continued, swiping up the towel from the counter, “You go study for the test I know you have tomorrow, and Ryo and I will finish up these dishes. No buts,” he added, forestalling the comment about to pass her lips. Her mouth closed with a snap click of teeth. “You made the supper, the least Ryo and I could do is clean up.”

“Okay.” She agreed, after mulling it over for a few moments. Turning, she moved out of the kitchen and towards the den, where her books lay scattered across the table before Ryosuke talked her into making cookies.

Grinning in triumph, Kouga tossed the towel to his son. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

“Jeeze Dad.” Ryo grumbled good-naturedly, accepting the first dish.

“Yeah yeah,” Kouga said. “How’d your day go?”

Ryo immediately perked up. “It was so cool! Today at lunch, we had this really nasty thing called a ‘fish patty’ - it didn’t really smell like fish, I thought - and after lunch, Ryan threw up all over the floor of the music room! That was okay though, I hate music class. But when Allie saw Ryan’s throw up, she puked too! The teacher was so mad, and…”

Kouga continued washing dishes, nodding absently, watching Ryo talk. His whole face lit up a he did, his eyes sparkling as he animatedly recounted the days events. His chatter was bright and bubbling, his hands waving expressively when he didn’t have a hold of he dishes Kouga kept handing him.

He looked so much like his mother…

Kouga shook his head, mentally squelching the thought. While it was true enough that Ryosuke looked like a miniature of the young woman he had fallen in love with, he bore little resemblance to the woman who had born him. The woman who had borne his son was… lost, hidden within herself. There was no joyous sparkle in her eyes, no bounce in her step. If he hadn’t known her to be the same fifteen year old girl who had so blatantly disrespected his authority, who had laughed and joked and smiled at him, he would never have recognized her. The woman she was today would never be mistaken for the same brazen girl who had slapped his face when he had declared that she was “his woman.”

That damn hanyou….

“Dad?”

Kouga glancd down at his son, who was leaning over the counter, eagerly peering out the same window Kouga had been staring through moments before.

“What’s wrong Dad? Why are you growling? Is there someone out there?” Ryo peered into the darkness, obviously looking for signs of imminent danger.

“No son, there’s nothing out there.” Kouga replied. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh.” Hopping down, Ryosuke took the next dish, studying Kouga’s face and chewing his bottom lip for a moment before anxiously blurting out: “I was thinking…”

“Oh?” Kouga asked, handing Ryosuke the last of the silverware. “About what?”

“About Mom.”

Kouga froze.

“She called today.” Ryosuke rushed on anxiously, knowing his father didn’t like to talk about his mother. “Se said she can’t wait for me to come home. But, Dad…” He trailed off, eyes wide and uncertain.

“Yes?” Kouga prompted.

“I.. Kinda feel bad, you know?” Ryo said, scuffing a toe along the hardwood floor. “She talks about me coming home for a month and all that but… Tokyo isn’t home. I hate it there!” He burst out. “It’s crowded and noisy and smells bad.”

“Do you not want to go?” Kouga asked carefully, putting away the dishes that were too high up for Ryo to reach.

“It’s not that.” Ryo fidgeted. “I love Mom, and I want to see her. I guess… Why can’t she just come stay with us?”

Kouga chose his words carefully, ignoring the way his ribs seemed to squeeze his lungs. “There’s more to it than what you see.” He finally said, placing a dish in the cupboard with exaggerated care.

“Doesn’t she love us?”

Kouga winced. ‘It’s not us she has a problem with, kid.’

“It’s not that.” He hedged. “Your mother loves you very much.” He turned, looking directly into Ryo’s eyes, just to make sure the got the point across. “You’re the most important person in her world. Never doubt that.”

“Then why doesn’t she want to be with me?”

Kouga sighed, scratching his head as he tried to think of a way to explain to his son what he really couldn’t explain to himself. “Your Mom’s got a lot of hurts inside Kid. I hurt her real bad and with that, and everything else..” Kouga forcibly stopped himself. Ryo wouldn’t be able to understand all of that yet. “Anyway, she’s scared, near as I can tell. She doesn’t want to be hurt again.”

The timer on the oven dinged and Kouga leapt to retrieve the pot holder and get the fish out, grateful for the distraction.

“Have you tried saying you’re sorry?”

The words were spoken softly, but Kouga heard then, and winced again at the twist in his chest. “There are some things sorry can’t fix.” He said, setting the baking sheet down on the counter.

Ryosuke watched his father for a while out of the corner of his eye as Kouga scooped the broiled fish off of the sheet and onto a plate, setting the sheet in the dishwater to soak. He knew when not to push his father any further, and Kouga had given all he was going to for now.

Finally, Kouga turned back to him with a pained look on his face. “Why don’t you go get Jenna Ryo? Tell her dinner’s ready.”-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Later that night, much later, Kouga lounged in the recliner in the den, a bottle of good American brandy and a half-full snifter on the end table beside him. Blue-hued images danced across the screen, casting light and shadows across the youkai male, and Kouga stared at the box without really seeing it, his mind far away in his thoughts.

“Have you tried saying you’re sorry?”

The words taunted him. Kouga snorted, a gentle whuff of air as he lifted the snifter up to study it, watching the blue-ish light dance through the amber liquid, distorting the images on the other side. ‘Kid, if “sorry” would fix it, I’d have said it a million times over.’

Stupid: that’s what it really amounted to. He ha been stupid. Too young, too full of himself to see beyond his own pleasures and the heat of the moment. Now or then, it didn’t matter, he had been blinded to what was by what he wanted to see.

He tossed back the liquid, savoring the burning sensation as the brandy scorched its way down his throat. The sensation reassured him that he was here, was real, not a figment of his own imagination. Setting the glass aside, Kouga leaned back in the chair, content to let the alcohol cushion the hard blow and whip-like sting the memories still brought.

When had it started? Kouga liked to think that it had begun a decade ago, the last time Kagome had fled the well, or maybe back when he had snatched her from her traveling companions for her special sight. However, if he wanted to be honest with himself - and for nearly a decade he had made it his policy to be - he would acknowledge that it had begun long before he even knew of Kagome’s existence. She had already been more than half in love with that damn hanyou before he met her, and he, being the young pup that he was, seeing only what he wanted to and acknowledging only what suited his purposes, had refused to see the bond forming right under his nose. That the bond had been ultimately one-sided was irrelevant; it had played a deciding factor in his life from square one.

Reclining further in his chair, Kouga let the memories wash over him. The final battle had been brutal, but they had all emerged alive… more or less. The unnatural miko, Kikyou, had died, shattered into the dirt from whence she came by one of Naraku’s poisoned tentacles, and the fox kit had also perished trying to protect Kagome from one of Naraku‘s dispatched children in a surprisingly brave maneuver from one so young. Naraku, however, had finally been defeated, sent straight to hell after being purified. Kagome had done both the purifying and the sending, to everyone’s total surprise; no one had known she had become that powerful.

He had bid her goodbye, promising to return to her once he told his pack of Naraku’s defeat. He had made the journey as swiftly as possible seeing as he no longer had the aid of the jewel shards, eager to get back and claim his mate. He had spent only one night at the den, drinking and feasting with his pack mates, before leaving to return to the village that his bride resided in. He had left with the blessings and well-wishes of his pack on his heels, and had promised to return shortly with their queen.

But she wasn’t there. Kouga closed his eyes against the pain, fresh as a bleeding wound against his heart as it dug silent steel-tipped claws of agony into his chest. She hadn’t been there when he had returned, but the undead miko bitch was. Out strolling in the sunshine with dog-shit, neither of them with a single care in the world as far as he could see.

Kouga skidded to a halt, flabbergasted at the sight of the previously dead miko strolling along he edge of the woods, the inu-hanyou at her side.

“Oi! Inu-koro!” He called, catching Inuyasha’s attention. “Where’s my woman?” Kouga couldn’t see her anywhere, which wasn’t unusual. The fact that he couldn’t smell her anywhere did. Something was off… he just couldn’t tell what.

“Keh!” Inuyasha snorted, sneering at the ookami youkai in his characteristic manner, but an underlying concern lit his eyes. “She went home.”

Kouga relaxed, some of the tension draining out of him. Home? That wasn’t so bad…

“Great.” He grunted to himself. “Where’s that?” He said a little more loudly, garnering the half-youkai’s attention, which had wandered back to the copy-miko.

“Keh. Like you’d believe me if I told you.” Inuyasha snorted. “Give it up already, will you? If she’d wanted you, she’d have waited for you.”

“Whatever.” Kouga dismissed the hanyou. He didn’t have to know that Kouga’s youkai left little choice in the matter. “It’s not my fault you chose that dead thing over the living, breathing one. You were never good enough for her to begin with. Now, where is she?”

Inuyasha’s eyes flashed with barely contained rage. “Watch your mouth wolf, or I’ll make sure you’re able to.”

“Oh yeah?” Kouga taunted, unable to resist. “How would you do that?”

Inuyasha’s tenuous control snapped. “By rearranging your face!” He screamed, already halfway through the leap.

And while the fight had been invigorating, it hadn’t really yielded any more clues as to where Kagome had gone. Afterwards, Kouga had gone in search of the monk or the demon exterminator, who had both survived the fight. He had found the monk on the far side of the village; he had been difficult to recognize at first because hi usual purple-and-black robes - the one that signified his status as a monk - were gone, replaced by a simple woven hut and trousers. He toiled like a average villager, carefully laying the foundation to a hut, which Kouga had assumed would be shared with the huntress. Really, the only thing that identified him was the low dragon’s tail he kept his hair in, so diferent from the top knots that all the other villagers wore. However, when Kouga called out to him, he turned and it was easy to see that the almost boyishly smooth face was the same, as were the twinkling blue-violet eyes, though some of the sparkle seemed faded.

“Yes Kouga?” Miroku asked, unbending from his labor.

“Where are your robes at monk?” Kouga blurted, somewhat disconcerted by the sudden change in appearance.

Miroku had merely chuckled at the demon’s unease. “I’m building a home for my futire wife.” He replied amiably “Monks robes aren’t necessarily practical for hard labor. However,” he added as Kouga opened his mouth to speak, the sharp look belying the pleasent tone, “that doesn’t mean I’m not a monk. Now, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for my woman.” Kouga had responded, disgruntled. “Mutt-face said she went home.”

Miroku paused, his lips pursed together slightly, and steepled his fingers together in a pose that Kouga recognized, as his lashes lowered slightly to hide his downcast eyes. “Indeed she did.” He said.

And paused again.

The wolf prince fought back his growing impatience, which was warring mightily with the desperation clawing at his chest. What were these people saying that he wasn’t hearing, or better yet, what weren’t they telling him?

“Well? Where is she then? She’s my mate and I need to find her.” He added the last in a eucharistic plea. There was something going on, something big, that no one was telling him.

“She…isn’t somewhere you can follow.” Miroku finally admitted.

Kouga’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Bullshit.”

However, for all that Kouga had wanted to deny the truth, the recalcitrant monk had been correct. After a lengthy explanation, Miroku had finally admitted that Kagome was from the future, and had never truly been a part of their time. Kouga had protested the news violently, but had eventually been forced to acknowledge the facts; Kagome was not in the village, and she was not from this time, and she was not coming back.

He had waited for days, searching for a trace of her. The best he could do was an old well outside the village, and even there the scent was faint and polluted with tears. The place had simultaneously comforted and disturbed him - comforted because even that faint trace was soothing to his inner youkai, and disturbed because his mate had been there, been there, and had been extremely upset for some reason. Possibly at the idea of leaving, but he knew there had to be more to it than that.

Eventually, Miroku had admitted to him that Inuyasha and Kagome had a fight before she left, but had also said that none of them had witnessed it - it was Inuyasha’s word alone that they had to go on, and Inuyasha had been the only one able to determine that she left vi the well. The fact that the well was now full of water had led them to assume that the time slip was now closed, and could no longer be re-opened… that, and the appearance of Kikyou. Apparently, she was Inuyasha’s first love, and his mate.

And, Kouga remembered belatedly, Kagome had been rumored to be her reincarnation. However much Kagome had cared for - Kouga still couldn’t bring himself to say loved - the hanyou, it was apparent that his affection for her had lay solely in the fact that she had resembled his former love.


In the end, Miroku had taken him into the old miko’s hut, opening a chest in the corner of the room and dragging out a yellow bag that Kouga had recognized as being the one Kagome had often carried with her. Reaching inside, , the monk had pulled out a small, covered book and had flipped it open before handing it to Kouga, who had taken it and stared at the contents quizzically. It had numbers on each corner and midway down the page, interspaced with lines, soe of which had contained writings. But the writings made no sense; things like “geometry” and “physics” hadn’t been known in that time. Finally, Kouga had looked up and into Miroku’s amused eyes, silently demanding an explanation.

Helpfully, Miroku reached out and tapped one of the numbers. “This is the day she left. Be at the well at this date in five hundred and three years, the year nineteen ninety-three, and she will appear.”

“Are you sure about this monk?” Kouga asked, studying the number quizzically for a moment.

“Entirely.”

And he had been right, Kouga reflected, absently swallowing another shot of liquor. He hadn’t believed him, and no matter where he had gone through the next few centuries, he had looked for her, any sign of her, only to be disappointed time and again. Finally, as the promised date loomed, he had almost dared to hope and, convincing himself to try it - just once more - he had left his new territory in Canada and had traveled back to Japan.

Kouga sighed, fortifying himself with a small sip of the burning liquid as the memories washed over him like liquid ice through his blood…. So cold they burned…

She had come, in the dark of the night, just as the monk has described her disappearing. However, for all that Kouga had fortified himself against her upset, he could never have prepared for what he had gotten.

The first thing he had heard was her crying, the first thing he smelled the salty-scent of her tears. Great wracking sobs had shook her frame, and Kouga had been half-afraid that the force of them would rend her in two. She had been unable to climb out of the well and, when Kouga peered anxiously over the rim, she had been collapsed on the bottom, shaking as the sobs tore through her.

Leaping down into the well, Kouga had grasped her arms, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her, quickly turning into a mass of nerves himself. What was wrong with her? Why was she crying? She should have been happy to see her mate, and instead she was distraught, her breath unable to keep up with her distress and leaving her gasping as stale breath rattled in over-taxed lungs.

He had gathered her close, as close as he could, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nonsense, trying to ease her distress as much as his own, with his inner youkai raging and wailing in perfect accord with its mate.

In the blink of an eye, Kagome had leaned back, looking up into his eyes and, even in the dim light of the well house, he had been shaken be what he had seen there.

Desolation.

It was her eyes that betrayed her, he would later decide, and her eyes that had been his undoing. The girl kneeling before him, was not the smiling, joyful girl he had known, who could take anything thrown at her and snap back like grass in the wind. This girl was a broken replica of that shining being, raw pain of a thousand scars left untended and a million hurts left unsoothed naked for the world to see, raw pain vibrating through every fiber of her frame, shattered dreams darkening the once star-bright blue eyes.

Kouga groaned softly, leaning back in his chair as his hands slid up to cover his eyes. His next action had - in hindsight - been the true beginning of the end.

He had kissed her. For one wild moment, he had thought that if he could show her that she mattered to someone, she wouldn’t cry. She would be happy belonging to him, rather than a half-breed dog who didn’t - wouldn’t - appreciate her.

However, he had underestimated the sheer power of her grief, and had neglected to think that a woman-child who felt she was truly alone would reach out to anyone - anything - for a comfort and stability that she couldn’t find in herself. And when she kissed him back, as passionately as he had kissed her, was the beginning of his shining moment of stupidity.

There were no real thoughts; no confusion or hesitancy, no doubt or anger. Just the rush of blood in his ears, pounding through his veins drowning out everything but the taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, and the sheer rightness of it all. The scent of her continued tears had overwhelmed him, filled him with a beating, driving need to make it better, to make her stop crying, if only he knew how…

He had been without her so long…

He had awoken the next day, still at the bottom of the well, and Kagome still wrapped securely in his arms. Hazy recollections of the night before bombarded him - of a wild and uncontrolled passion that had left little room for restraint despite the fact (Kouga winced) that she had been a virgin.

Smiling, Kouga snuggled her closer. He would make it up to her later. They were true mates now, and despite the wriggling doubt that wound through his mind - she would accept the union, wouldn’t she? She had to! - his inner youkai was sated, practically purring in delight. Kouga himself felt far more refreshed and…whole than he had in… forever. The feeling of being empty, of having that indefinable something missing, was gone.

Kagome stirred in his arms, absently pushing at his hold in her effort to be free. Kouga grinned and pulled her closer. “Morning, mate.” He whispered.

Kagome froze.

Kouga frowned. Whatever reaction he had been expecting, that surely wasn’t it. “Kagome?” He queried.

Kagome’s hands began shoving at his arms with a renewed frenzy and despite his better judgment, Kouga released his hold and allowed her too sit up, unable to prevent the appreciative gaze that swept over her sleep-tousled form.

“Kouga?” She asked incredulously.

She didn’t sound thrilled.

“Of course.” He had answered, stretching lazily, unabashed of his nakedness, though unable to prevent the smug grin when Kagome’s gaze unwillingly swept up and down his form before her cheeks turned red, even as she struggled to hide her own nudity.

Kouga’s grin abated, just the slightest bit. “Who did you think I was?”

Kagome refused to meet his gaze as she, after an obvious internal debate, chose necessity over modesty and grabbed for the remainder of her clothes, throwing them on and beginning to scramble up the well ladder.

Kouga watched the whole scene in silence, until her foot hit that first rung, the dull scraping of leather against wood snapping him out of his daze.

“Wait a second!” He cried, reaching for her. “Where are you going?”

The scent of tears brought him up short, halting his hand a hair’s breadth from the back of her shirt, and she continued up the ladder.

Kouga caught up with her outside the well house, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her to face him. Dawn wasn’t too far off, and the first, pink-and-orange rays of sunlight illuminated her face, bringing the silvery tracks on her cheeks and the fear in her eyes into stark relief.

Kouga stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides helplessly. What was she afraid of?

“Kagome?” He whispered, his mind whirling.

She shook her head wordlessly, not denying who she was, but denying the entire situation.

“Kouga…” She whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”

Turning, she fled into the house.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ryosuke crept quietly down the stairs, taking care to avoid the step he knew creaked. No use waking his dad, though he had the excuse of wanting a glass of water ready should Kouga catch him anyway. He only wanted one more cookie…. Okay, maybe two…

A faint snoring from the direction of the den caught his attention and, unable to suppress his curiosity, Ryo altered his course for the doorway.

Kouga was laying kicked back in the recliner, snoring softly as the blue-ish light from the television set cast patterns over his face. Sniffing delicately, Ryosuke winced as the scent of despair and alcohol flooded his nostrils. Padding over, Ryo no longer even attempted to conceal his presence, knowing that little more than a direct shock to the senses would wake Kouga now.

“He has a hard time sleeping sometimes.” His uncle Hakku had told him once, covertly exchanging resigned looks with his best friend Ginta, thinking Ryosuke wouldn’t notice.

“Why? Why doesn‘t he just go to bed?” He had asked, curious.

Hakku had scratched the back of his head, trying to decide how much information was too much.

“Sometimes, a bed is too big when you’re the only one in it.” He said at last.

“Well then, why doesn’t he get a smaller bed then?” Ryo asked, with all of the candid logic of a eight-year-old boy. “Or sleep with me? I don’t mind sharing.”

Both of his uncles shrugged, looking as stumped as he was, and Ryo growled softly at the memory. He was young, but not stupid! There was obviously more to the story, and his uncles were simply unwilling to divulge it. Who was he supposed to ask anyway? Ginta and Hakku were mum, the rest of the tribe had only sketchy details, and Kouga himself sunk into a funk every time he brought it up.

Ryo’s growl turned into a whine as he capped the bottle, wincing at the potent smell. He wanted to help… but how could he?

Sighing, he pulled a light blanket over his father’s prone form before turning off the television and heading back towards the stairs.

He didn’t really feel like a cookie anymore…