InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Anchored ❯ Anchored ( Chapter 1 )

One-shot blurb~

* Signifies a flashback or previous event. If it's not there, then it's just a quote xP

Enjoy~

 

 

 

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Anchored

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My mother's name was Mitsuki.

 

*

`Momma, why do angels have wings?' She smiled.

`So they can carry us when we're down.'

*

 

Tetsuna was my father.

 

*

`Higher, dad, higher!' He laughed.

`Hold on tight!'

*

 

I loved my brother, Sota.

 

*

`Open up! I really gotta go!' He protested.

`Hold on! Hold on!'

*

 

My fingers find a home in jacket pockets as I glide through the frosty morning grass. Mist wraps around me, but I don't mind the chill. It seems I've become numb to the temperatures.

 

My hair rests perfectly around my shoulders. I don't even bother styling it anymore, since it stays where it is more or less. Except for a nasty knot that refuses to come undone at my temple, but I've long since given up trying to fix it. My down coat cuts off at my waste, where comfy track pants peek out. They're a bit stained. I don't mind.

 

A couple drives by on the road on the other side of the fence. I see them, more than hear. They don't notice me, but not many people do. I don't really mind that, either. I don't want the attention, not truthfully. I cherish my peace and quiet.

 

It's funny how the oddest things come to you at the strangest of times. In times of grieving, laughter bubbles up at the suppressed feelings, so inappropriately, so wrong, yet so predictable. Is it any wonder why we don't know each other so well? I wish I had time to figure out someone entirely, know things about them that even they themselves haven't learned yet. It's so intriguing, the levels on which we carry ourselves. But I digress.

 

I blink, realizing that my feet had stopped moving. Onward, onward I go. I don't want to turn back, not yet.

 

Trees bend and give to the chilly gusts of air sweeping through the quiet, solemn field. I breathe deep, trying to fill my lungs; it seems as if I can never breathe a full breath lately. Suffocating, restricting. My hand brushes over the top of an engraved stone.

 

*

`BOO!'

`You idiot! You scared me half to death!' He runs away, laughing maniacally. `Come back here!'

*

 

You know I love you. You can scare me again a thousand times, and I wouldn't care.

 

`You can't do these things anymore! You have responsibilities now!'

 

I know.

 

`We care about you so much, we don't want you to get hurt!'

 

I know.

 

`Stay safe! See you after school!'

`We're strict because we love you.'

`How are things going now? Are they better? We're here, we're always here.'

`We trust you… We care about you so much.'

 

I KNOW.

 

There was so much time. There was so little time. Can you ever have enough? I don't think so…

 

The hardest thing in the world is to be alone. Nobody to lean on, nobody to confide in. Nobody to love you just because you're there, you're real, you're you. It must be nice to be able to touch, to hold and to caress.

 

I've long since forgotten, unfortunately. The rumble of footsteps upon earth alerts me of the presence of others. A young boy is running from his mother behind me, coming upon me fast. I stand in the middle of the walkway, watching with a sort of detached interest and wariness. His mother calls to him, but she's not worried. They're smiling, enjoying themselves along the outer track of the closed-in field. It's important to be able to laugh in the most depressing of times, isn't it? He comes upon me, and I hold my arms out to receive him with a small smile pulling at the corner of my lips. His eyes are looking past me, to the future beyond where I stand.

 

My arms remain open, as he runs through me. There's a split second in which time seems to come to a horrifyingly slow tempo. It doesn't affect me, though.

 

I don't belong here; I'm not a part of this world. Time restores to its normal hectic pace and I step out of the mother's path with downcast eyes. The boy and his mother move forward, beyond where I stand, beyond where I'm stuck. The vibrations weaken until I can't detect them anymore.

 

My ears are gone, stolen from me like the rest of my future was. That's what happens in general when a bullet ricochets throughout your skull. I can't change it. I cling to my dreams, though. My dreams keep me here, in the real world. Where I belong, where I stay because I can, because it's home. They watch over me from above, but I can't join them, not yet. Yet I'm not welcome here. I'm not real. I loathe my peace and quiet.

 

If I could hold you, would you let me?

 

 

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