InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Trust ❯ Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs solely to its creator, Rumiko Takahashi. However, this story and the explanation behind which Kagome turns into a youkai belongs entirely to me. Ask, before you use it.

 

Chapter 3

 

Inuyasha watched the straight back of the hanyou-woman Kagome walk away from him down the path. He knew his words were harsh, but he had learned from dealing with both the Monk and Taijiya that sometimes the harshest words were the only ones that could reach past the boundaries that had been built to keep everyone at bay. It was the only thing he knew that was sharp enough to chip away at the mortar so he could tear down each stone with his bare hands. Who knew there was so much stone to go around?

 

He smirked a little, watching Kagome become engulfed in the darkness of the woods. He never could control his temper, at all, and he'd have to admit he enjoyed it, sometimes.

 

Squashing the thought beneath an imaginary heel, he sniffed the air, testing to make sure the unique, definitively feminine scent continued to fade with time, signifying the increasing distance between Kagome and himself. Content that she would not return to the well any time soon, he ran the short distance to the ever annoying, forever exasperating time portal and jumped into it, disappearing in a welcoming burst of blue light.

 

—\-|-/—

 

Trudging through the woods in the increasing light of dawn, Kagome kicked a stone out of her path, mumbling underneath her breath. Expletives learned from her American classmates and Japanese epithets rolled like liquid flame off her tongue to sully the crisp air around her with her ire. Inuyasha had a singular knack of pissing her off, knowing the exact button that could send her off in a fit of rage, but what made it even more difficult to hold unto her self-righteous anger was that most of what he said had been endlessly repeated in her own mind. The accusations were no worse then what she had drowned herself in.

 

She had run away from him, from Sango, Miroku, and Kaede because she was afraid. She had not thought of them, though at the time she would have sworn that it was. She ran because she couldn't stand to see herself reflected in their eyes. She hadn't even told her mother or Ji-chan the truth.

 

Everything, she hid. Money and modern technology made sure of that, and here she was, back in Sengoku Jidai and already her secret was out because Inuyasha had known what she did, had found out because she was so stupid.

 

So much for traveling incognito.

 

Kicking another hapless stone out of her path, Kagome broke through the forest and paused, staring with a yearning heart at the village already awake and busy. She could see the smoke plumes as fires were lit and men and women flitted from house to well and back again. A few were already out in the rice fields, working diligently to plant their crops before it was too late to do any good.

 

She had missed this. No one had ever been able to understand the simplicity of life here in Sengoku Jidai. It was survival of the fittest at its most basic. Every day of the year was a race against the seasons to get crops planted, to nurture them to maturity, and to harvest them. And in the winter? Well, winter was the harshest season as food stocks were carefully rationed to last them until the spring and through the summer, and the fight against the cold was harsh and bitter. The monotony itself as one was left cooped up in the tiny huts, waiting for spring to arrive was an equally tiring obstacle to overcome.

 

There was strength in each man, woman, and child that she admired and rarely saw in the modern world where the harshest thing a person had to do was pick up after themselves and drag themselves out of bed in the morning. A little cruel, but rarely did she ever see that drive for life so clearly depicted except for here, now, in these men and women she had once known so well.

 

Sighing heavily, she wended her weary way down the still well trodden path towards her mentor's home. In her mind, she imagined Kaede hovering over the fire, stirring a pot of stew while Sango knelt in the garden weeding it before breakfast. Kirara would be curled up next to the fire, dozing as she watched the elder woman tend to her home. A small smile creased her face then, as her feet at last began to pick up their pace as she sighted the tiny hut.

 

Eagerly, she bounded up the two steps and pulled back the screen, forgetting in an instant the time that had passed since her last visit. Smile lighting up her face, she stumbled into the fire-lit room and took in the strong smell of ginger and vegetables simmering over the fire. The heavenly smell of cedar soothed the flash of nerves as the wood log popped in greeting beneath the kettle, and the wide-eyed gaze of her mentor was tenderly caressed with her own.

 

She had aged in four years. The wrinkles were deeper, and Kaede's body seemed thinner though her skin seemed to hang a little looser on her frame. But her smile, her smile was still the same.

 

“Kagome!” she cried, instantly recognizing her as she laboriously made her way from her knees to her feet to rush forward to tightly embrace her almost daughter. “I am so glad ye are back, Kagome,” she whispered happily.

 

“I am too,” Kagome whispered, holding the elder woman tighter. This was what she had hoped to find when she returned, this feeling of love and acceptance. Forgetting Inuyasha, forgetting for just a moment, she reveled in the feeling of warmth that encompassed her, and fought back the tears that threatened to pour down her face once again.

 

Reluctantly releasing her grip, she allowed Kaede to step back until just her hands remained perched on Kagome's shoulders, her one eye taking everything in, noticing how much Kagome seemed to have matured from the loud, impetuous girl she had once known. There was caution in those eyes now, though no less a compassionate heart.

 

“Where have ye been these last four years?” she asked as she stepped back completely. Her mind was already grappling with the younger miko's sudden return as she turned to the more familiar task of ladling stew into a shallow bowl and passing it to Kagome as the young woman sat on the floor, her pack already lodged in the usual corner.

 

Swallowing a mouthful of hot broth, Kagome choked out a reply. “School, Kaede-baa-chan. I traveled over seas to attend college and just returned a couple days ago. I'll be going back in about six months to get a medical degree.”

 

Kaede smiled gently, happy that the woman was putting her heart to good use. “We have missed you,” she replied serenely, gathering another bowl for herself. “We were worried when ye never returned and had begun to fear you were sealed away from our time forever.”

 

Kagome shook her head vehemently, savoring her mentor's name as it left her tongue. “Kaede, it wasn't like that at all. I just needed to concentrate on catching up on my school work so I could get into a decent university. After I moved overseas, there just wasn't an opportunity for me to return until now, and I guess I did forget to unseal the well before I left so my mom could keep Inuyasha informed and everything. It was just so hectic, right before I left. I didn't even know I got accepted until a week into the new school term so I literally just threw some stuff in a bag and hopped on a plane to America.”

 

Kaede nodded sagely, picking out the key things and attributing the rest as things she would never have the privilege of understanding, not being from the future as Kagome herself was. “I glad ye were able to follow your dreams since you denied so many of your own to hunt for the jewel shards, but I must ask ye if there might not have been another reason to forget seeking us out before leaving? Perhaps ye were running away from a certain hanyou we both know?”

 

She waited expectantly for Kagome's response, noting the flushed cheeks and the nervous shuffling as she settled her bowl into her lap. She had thought Kagome might have disappeared because Inuyasha seemed determined to continue mourning for her dead sister despite the fact she had been dead for more then fifty years.

 

As Kaede waited for an answer, she mulled over the situation as she remembered it after nearly five years. She had never expected Kagome would disappear for such a long time, having seen and felt the warmth radiating from the woman and the nearly unselfishness with which she gave of herself to others. That Inuyasha was an idiot, everyone knew. That Kagome was equally stubborn was a universally accepted fact. Kagome had always fought through Inuyasha's devotion to stay by his side, so why would the girl suddenly give up when Kikyou was finally at peace with herself?

 

Sighing, Kagome shifted again under the wrong assumption Kaede radiated certainty over. She had loved Inuyasha, but she had long since given up on him, resigned to the fact that he was hopelessly devoted to Kikyou, and Kikyou in some weird twisted way still cared for Inuyasha. It had been difficult for her to see it in the dead miko, and in the end it was the things that were missing, left out in a hundred conversations and chance meetings that made Kagome realize just how much the half life Kikyou lived and the emotions she felt when Inuyasha was near tortured her. There was hate, yes, but that hate tempered gradually into hate for the girl she presumed, and rightfully so, was taking the place that had once been hers in Inuyasha's life.

 

It was because she loved Inuyasha in her first life that Kikyou gave up the stolen portion of her old soul to Kagome, willing to leave Inuyasha in her care. Kagome closed her eyes, willing back the catch in her throat and the heavy weight on her heart. She had betrayed that trust for a night of desperate passion and continued to betray that trust in the confusion that had followed as her body changed and her mind refused to acknowledge it.

 

Kagome opened her eyes, the light refracting around the pooled moisture resting there until it seeped back down into her skin, between cornea and lid. She sighed again before dredging up an answer to Kaede's question. “No, Kaede, I just had school work to catch up on.” She left out all mention of her changed appearance. She would find out soon enough, anyways, with Inuyasha's tongue roaming loose and the difference in her aura she was sure Kaede had already noticed. She no longer had any foolish dreams of pretending to be who she once was.

 

Nervously, she shifted again and glanced around the hut, looking for Sango's possessions and only seeing a spare set of clothing for Miroku. Curious, she turned back to Kaede and interrupted her before she could once again press the tender issue. “Um, where's Sango? Inuyasha already told me where Miroku was. I'd like to say hi to her before I go back home for a few days. My family hasn't seen me in four years, and I'm sure they're wondering where I'm at right now…”

 

Kagome's voice trailed off mid-ramble as she at last noticed Kaede's drooping face. “What—What happened to Sango?” she asked hesitantly, almost not wanting to know the answer. A sense of foreboding enveloped her as she remembered Inuyasha's words before they split ways.

 

Kaede sighed herself before looking up to stare into Kagome's bright blue eyes. “Sango died about a year after ye defeated Naraku. She never truly regained the strength she once had though her injuries healed nicely. How she managed to continue fighting with them, I will never know.”

 

The older woman broke eye contact, unable to bear the shock in her eyes. Pressing her hand against the ground, she walked over to an old chest, continuing to speak while hiding the tears that fell from her own worn out eyes. Sango had been a sweet girl, capable, dependable, and with a sweetness that contrasted with the strength of her spirit.

 

“Sango had been training some of the villagers in the ways of her clan when they were beset by a feral youkai. She killed the oni, but died from her wounds. She just wasn't strong enough to recover from another major injury, especially after it became infected.”

 

Kagome choked out an unintelligible reply as the unexpected news sank into her soul. Flashes of memory engulfed her with visions of Sango's shy smile, the disdainful expression as Miroku tried to feel her up yet again, even the fearful hope that would wash quickly over the taijiya's face whenever there was hope of seeing her brother. They had shared so much together over the years. There was the uncertainty of the life she lived weighing her down, her concerns for her younger brother, Kohaku and the shame she felt whenever he injured one of her companions.

 

It was all there, flashing in front of her eyes, reminding her that the single thread that bound each memory with the silken thread of trust and the belief that every confidence would be held close and never divulged. They had been each other's support when it was needed most. The pain that blossomed in her chest nearly became unbearable as the miko-hanyou shakily regained her feet.

 

She hadn't been there for her friend, preferring to engulf herself in the unfairness of her own situation and the fear that came with it. She refused to return to Sengoku Jidai when her mother suggested it on the evening before her flight to America because she couldn't imagine what she would say to them all, mostly because she was just beginning to accept herself.

 

If she had come, then, would she have been in time to help her almost sister fight the infection? Would the taijiya still be alive to smile back at her right now, suggesting a bath in the onsen to wash away the unfamiliarity of distance? Choking back a sob, Kagome stumbled a half step to the shaded door of the hut, before she paused, clenching her hands tightly as she turned around to face Kaede.

 

As the all too familiar grief enshrouded her once more, cutting off her voice as she fought to articulate a single question, her mind wandered back to another day when she had faced the sadistic face of sorrow. It was that night that had changed everything. And as she remembered, she couldn't help but agree with the lessons Sesshoumaru taught her. The pain meant she was still alive, and, oh how she hated living some days.

 

Her voice creaked with uncertain emotion as she at last forced out the single question that kept repeating over and over in her head. “Where is Sango now? Where did you bury her?”

 

Kaede turned around from the chest, knowing that Kagome needed to see the grave to accept the truth of her words. It was always a difficult thing to come back from a journey and know that close friends were gone. She could only hope that Kagome would be able to lean on her in these times as she had been unable to with Shippou. In time, she hoped Kagome would openly admit the real reason she ran away and the thing she tried to keep hidden from her. She would wait as long as need be for the miko to open up and explain just how she had turned into a half-demon nearly five years ago. She would wait, and in the meantime be as gentle as she knew how to be around the fragile girl she had become.

 

“She is buried in the village next to her Ane-ue and Kohaku.” Her old voice creaked as she closed the few steps separating the two. “And she asked that I give this to you, when you returned. She always had hope that when you were ready you would return to this era and say your farewells. She was always waiting for ye, Kagome.”

 

Kagome looked down at her hands, tears feely falling from her face to darken the fabric beneath her hands. Nodding her thanks, she ducked out of the hut, walking aimlessly through the village and ignoring all the stares and whispers of the villagers that recognized her and the silence that seemed to follow in her wake, cutting her off from reality.

 

There was no way she could get to the deserted Taijiya village on her own. She would have to beg Inuyasha to take her there or wait for Miroku to return with Kirara. Neither choice seemed very appealing. If only she could be sure of finding the way back on her own she could just leave…

 

Shaking the thought form her head, she continued to grapple with reality, acceptance eluding every twist of her thoughts as she strove to find the subtle nuance of Sango's weakened state in the memories she had after Naraku's defeat. Sango had been doing so well when she left; she just couldn't comprehend it.

 

Her feet carried her onwards until at last they stopped of their own will, forcing Kagome to acknowledge her surroundings. Her heart sank as she fell to her knees next to the one place she had been hoping to avoid for a little while longer. Sitting, she let the flow of her tears quicken as she gazed at the simple stone marker with Shippou's name written inelegantly on the surface while she clutched the still wrapped package to her chest.

 

And crying, she remembered.

 

—\-|-/—

 

She had woken up in the middle of the night with an ache in her chest that refused to allow her to return to the blessed oblivion of slumber. During those first moments of waking, she had believed she had passed into the afterlife, awash with a pain she couldn't describe, couldn't define. She hadn't remembered, yet, the true reason she thought she deserved such punishment. All she knew was that her heart ached and her skin seemed to be ablaze with a thousand needle pricks as her breath labored in her torn, unsuspecting body.

 

If it was hell, she could well imagine the many reasons she had been placed there in chains that seemed to weigh down her limbs and constricted the flow of air into her body that she struggled to overcome. She deserved something for the worry and fear she put her family through on a daily basis. She deserved a thousand lashes for every lie she told her school for skipping classes, for failing classes. She should have been torn asunder for the pain she caused Inuyasha every time she sat him out of anger and spite. There were a million tiny sins she committed that coalesced in her head to deserve the hellish destiny she was so certain she had been transported to.

 

And then she opened her eyes and beheld the twinkling stars above her head and heard the quiet labored breathing of her companions still echoing around her. And then she remembered. She had been injured, pierced with Kikyou's power imbued arrow to grant her that tiny extra power lodged in the soul she carried within her that had once been Kagome's own. She felt with shaking hands the wound on her chest, marveling at the tightness of the bandages and the fact her upper body was covered by nothing other her unzipped sleeping bag and a bra.

 

She had felt a moment of embarrassment, then, thinking that Inuyasha had tended her wound instead of feeling grateful she was still alive when she had been so certain moments before she was locked in purgatory. She didn't know what she felt for the hanyou anymore, having been resigned to the turmoil of his choices as he struggled to honor all his promises. It was strange, knowing she still felt embarrassed that it may have been his hands that wrapped her so neatly.

 

Kagome sighed, confused with the errant thoughts flitting through her mind, and let her hand fall away from the wrapping covering her ribs. The night was cool, but she felt uncomfortable beneath the heavy sleeping bag, preferring the touch of wind on her flush skin as she stared at the bright sky above her. As her mind emptied of everything but the dull throb pulsating through her body and the heavy beating of her heart, the memories of the day slowly dredged their way to the forefront of her mind, flitting through it with cruel intent and reminding her that there was more to pain then just the one from her wound.

 

She didn't know how things had ended, but she could feel the completeness in her soul and the odd ache of emptiness as the vision of friends dying swallowed her whole. She had felt the tears start leaking from her eyes to fall on either side of her face while her body curled inwards, breaking open the wound Kikyou had given at her request.

 

It had been the only way to defeat Naraku, really, channeling through her body the energy to defeat him, and contain him all at once. Without having some tangible connectedness, he could have run away again to fight another day, so she had allowed the dead miko to shot her with an arrow, knowing she played with her own life.

 

But she hadn't really cared, then.

 

Kouga was gone, dead at Naraku's hand. Shippou was killed protecting her. Miroku was knocked out, and Sango was injured. She had been bone weary with grief, and in a foolish moment wished for an end to it.

 

She still did, in a way, but not through the taking of her own life. That was selfish, and not deserving of the sacrifices they had made with the hope of killing Naraku once and for all. But that didn't make the sorrow any easier to bear.

 

How long she cried, she'd never know, but a hand, more gentle then she would ever guess possible, had pushed her flat on her back, uncurling her body from the bent position she craved. What made the evening even more surreal was that he didn't say a thing, merely looked down at her with an unspoken rebuke in his eyes and displeasure set firmly in his lips.

 

And then, as she waited for her breathing to even out, she gazed with wide, swimming eyes at Sesshoumaru's ethereal beauty. She had at last discovered why Rin was so devoted to the great youkai lord. He may not say much, but he took care of those who he thought worthy of it, and reminded them not to let obstacles stand in their way. Her eyes drifted to the left; his billowing sleeve was proof enough of that.

 

She had smiled then, she remembered, smiled despite the tears slowly trickling down her skin because she felt so useless, still living, while acknowledging that no one else shared her opinion. As she continued to watch him, she saw his gaze break away from hers to look at the wound on her chest, just below her breasts where the arrow had pierced her, and the blood stain slowly seeping through them.

 

And she had thought he was displeased to be woken up by her sobbing and tried to convey that thought by pushing his hands away while murmuring she'd take care of it. The look he gave her then was nothing compared to the previous one. But she didn't care, because she was so caught up in the minuteness of his every movement, preferring to take in his nearness then the memories that threatened to swallow her whole.

 

She could not imagine a life without Shippou in it.

 

“Miko,” he spoke, the words sending a shiver down her spine. “Don't scream.”

 

She was given little chance to comprehend his words as he picked her up with one arm, supporting her back with his forearm as his hand curled around to rest beneath her knees, nearly folding her in half. It was an awkward pose, but he managed it with grace as her arms hesitantly grasped his neck.

 

She had been pleased to note his scent was just as mysterious and clean and fresh as the youkai himself was, taking pleasure in the nearness as she concentrated on the pain of every step he took and the predictability of each fresh, new wave. He was steady as a rock, never deviating from the measured timing of his strides. She had counted them to keep her mind occupied from unwanted reminiscing.

 

And then he set her down on the ground, leaving her to look at her surrounding by the light of the newly waning moon and stars. She had been surprised to note there was a stream just beyond her reach, happily gurgling and gushing over rocks as though nothing had changed. The moonlight had glinted off the water, entrancing her with the play of light as Sesshoumaru unwound the bandages and frowned at the newly torn flesh.

 

She had been mildly surprised as he regained her attention, pushing her flat on her back to stare at the budding branches above her head, silhouetted against the night sky. She was even more surprised when he began to wash the wound of blood, chilling her skin with the stream water. She had gasped, earning a glance from the taiyoukai and barely a pause in his ministrations.

 

Kagome had never imagined him to be gentle until that night.

 

“Thank-you,” she had whispered, avoiding his gaze as he dabbed at the wound with the soiled bandages.

 

He had spoken then, his voice carrying just a hint of regret. “Do not thank me. The hanyou needed to be destroyed, and you succeeded before I could.”

 

She had surprised herself, when she grabbed his hand and pulled it to her face however reluctantly he let her. “I thank-you for tending to me,” she whispered while her body contemplated another method of thanks. She tried not to look too closely at the reasons she craved his touch, gentled for some reason tonight. She refused to acknowledge the selfishness behind her desire as she pleaded unknowingly with her eyes now darkened to a midnight hue.

 

She did not want to remember her losses, if she could avoid them. She wanted to keep the night pure from such terror, finding a surprising beauty in her surroundings as she was faced with the joy of knowing she still lived and the sorrow that others did not. It was a two edged sword that glinted in the moonlight showing death against the backdrop of life and the grey areas of living in the shadow of pain. She wanted to wallow in the darkness as long as she could, and so kissed Sesshoumaru's hand, reveling in the calluses that graced it. They made him seem more real, more touchable then she had ever imagined him being.

 

She avoided the consequences of her actions, preferring to feel life instead of the grief of death. She did not want to linger on the thoughts of others and the things they would say when they found out what she contemplated doing beneath the moon. She wanted to seek out pleasure to replace the pain of heartache. She refused to imagine the taiyoukai would deny her silent pleas, but he did by pulling away from her, frowning at the hands that still clenched his own.

 

“Please,” she had whispered, tears wallowing in her eyes once more as she struggled to keep the catch from her voice. “I don't want to remember, tonight.” She tugged his hand back to her though it refused to budge from his knee.

 

“Why would you wish to forget?” he had asked, waiting for her to release his hand so he could resume his task of bandaging her wound again. “Death is natural; to forget is to demean their existence.”

 

Kagome had been stunned silent for a moment, allowing Sesshoumaru to regain his hand. She watched him pull out what was left of her supplies from his haori, unwinding a roll of bandages until it lied loosely across her chest. She had quickly reached for the wrapping, holding down one end as she propped herself up on an elbow to allow him to wrap it around her torso, reveling in the soft brush of his hands against her skin, allowing them to send tingles of sensation flashing up and down her spine.

 

As he tied the wrappings off, she whispered, “In the morning, I can remember Shippou and the others.” Her throat closed on the next words, instead speaking them brokenly in her scattered thoughts. `In the morning, with the light of day to remind me life goes on, I can believe they're in a better place then this one, but not now with night all around us, and nothing to occupy my mind except the pain of memory.'

 

She had gazed pleadingly into his closed face. “Please, Sesshoumaru, just for tonight, just this once, keep me from thinking.”

 

She waited with bated breath for a sign, any sign that he might be receptive to her cause. She wasn't sure what she wanted, really. All she knew was that for some reason, tonight, he managed to capture her attention and made her heart a little less heavy as he tended her wounds, prevented her from crying shamelessly into a night she had first thought completely black. Now she could see the stars above and the moon lighting up a path of hope in front of her.

 

She had never realized just how beautiful Sesshoumaru could be with the slightest touch of gentleness softening his visage and the care with which he tended to her. There was no condemnation in his gaze, nor pity. It was just Sesshoumaru standing before her, a youkai who had seen his fair share of death and loss of friends and family. He had lost a father, a mother, been forced to deal with Inuyasha's stupidity time and time again, but he never seemed to change. At least she hadn't seen him change in the last three years since she met him.

 

What he put his mind to, he did, and tonight she needed that sureness to surround her. She needed something to remind her she did the right thing in letting Shippou help them fight against Naraku. She didn't need to face Inuyasha's grieving over Kikyou nor Miroku's and Sango's fear for the loss of the other. She didn't want to be the rock they leaned against as she usually was because right now, she needed something to lean on as well.

 

Sesshoumaru was the only one who hadn't lost something today, and she desperately wanted to tap into the calmness he projected so unflinchingly. She wanted to be encompassed in peace so she could shore up her flagging reserves to better face the morning when everything would be silhouetted starkly against the light of day.

 

There were times she needed to remember she could be hurt and feel pain, and that she had a right to look to others for the assurance that everything would be alright. What she didn't need was someone else's anger and pain directed at herself, nor the knowledge that they might blame her for the things that had happened or could happen still.

 

And in the tumbled thoughts running through her head, she noticed Sesshoumaru's face turn towards her own, searching her eyes for the things she no doubt was broadcasting loud and clear in her face that she was thinking in her head. Raw hope began to blossom in her chest that he might give in to her request and be an anchor for her this one night.

 

In the morning, she'd pretend nothing had happened, that they hadn't shared a moment or two on the stream bank. And surprisingly, he gave in to her silent pleas, touching her in the darkness of the night next to the stream as he brushed a hand between her breasts to linger on the wrappings. He had whispered to her, then, a lesson he would spend the remaining hours of night showing her the true meaning of, and she would be enthralled with the nuances of learning it.

 

He spoke to her with that silken voice of his, enchanting her with the subtle richness of his inflection. “Pain has many faces, miko. You cannot escape it, but you can learn to bear it gracefully.” He punctuated his words as he ripped through the binding with a single claw, causing her to shiver as the clotted blood was torn from her flesh. He soothed the pain with a swipe of his tongue against the wound, cleaning the fresh flow of blood from her skin and relishing in the taste. She gasped again, but this time with the unexpected feeling of electricity lighting up her flesh with the glow of pleasure.

 

He had smiled against her stomach, continuing to creep closer to the gaping wound and making the woman beneath him squirm in fear and anticipation. Lips hovering over the wound, breath cooling it and sending a shiver of something through her body, he finally flicked out his tongue to touch against it. The tip probed against the tattered flesh, drinking in the thick warmth to coat his tongue and feed his hunger.

 

The taste was always something to savor, revealing to him the subtle texture of her confusion and her yearning and the pain that laced her blood with spice. It tasted similar to his victims, fresh from the kill when he felt a hunger for meat gnawing at his insides, making him drink the blood before it could cool with death. And this miko, this Kagome was now his prey, and she knew it with a certainty and an acceptance he had rarely met.

 

And he told her, speaking to her with quiet sentences, digging at the wound marring her flesh as he dug at the wound of her grief and decision. He soothed the pain, and he magnified it, showing her the pain of release and the pleasure of life.

 

Her breathing became labored as he toyed with her senses, brushing claws that had once threatened her life against nerve endings, sending a pulse of desire straight to her head and straight to that untouched region down below. He could smell and taste her innocence. All she could do was feel as he plucked every emotion imaginable from her, not relenting until she moaned his name beneath the star-studded sky to entice him to travel upwards, to leave the arrow wound alone and service the rest of her body with the slick, rasp of his tongue that his fingers so persuasively promised he could.

 

She had twined her hands in his hair, luxuriating in the feeling of smoothness and the surprising heaviness of the tresses as she arranged it over her body to tease her still cloth covered breasts. She would take everything she could from the demon looming above her before the dream faded into reality, and she woke up to realize it never happened.

 

Everything about him was a contradiction. The gentleness with which he had tended her wounds contrasted the disdain he had for humans. The heaviness of his hair belied the ease with which the wind stirred it. She gasped as his mouth covered her breasts with a single minded intent to make her beg. The feel of him against herself made her wonder at his sanity. It conflicted with the person she thought she had known. She was grateful that so many of her assumptions were being proved false as she gasped his name and arched her body, the weight of gravity tugging at the wound against her back as the bandages fought to escape the clinging power of the blood already clotted there.

 

She drowned in pleasure then, as she tugged at the haori covering his limbs, his armor a breath away from lacing her flesh with fresh wounds. There was something completely erotic in the feeling of him against herself while she lied half naked beneath him, and himself prepared and girded for battle above.

 

But he relented, and stood up to move away as she whispered her pleas for an unfettered Sesshoumaru, an equally half naked man to run her hands over. She feared she had lost her sanity then. She had thought she could block out the memories of earlier, but instead they stood out in stark relief against the night as her pains throbbed with the edge of lust and the youkai in front of her tested the air for danger before slowly pulling off the armor, before laying his swords next to a harshly breathing Kagome.

 

His pelt was removed next, the strands of fur dancing in the light wind that sprang up. She shivered with desire, wondering what the feel of those strands against her skin would be like and if it was as soft as the strands of Sesshoumaru's hair. She was denied that pleasure however, when he settled it on the ground next to his armor, keeping it clear of any bloodstains she might grace it with.

 

When he returned to her open body, she rubbed the tips of her fingers against the chiseled plains of his chest, delighting in the firmness and odd sensation of rippling muscle as she explored with a single minded intent. She did not notice when his head dipped down to suck at the pulsating artery on her neck nor the pressure of his leg as it settled between her own. Her mind was completely focused on the information the sensitive pads of her fingers were telling her. At least it was until Sesshoumaru bit down on her neck, causing her to squirm with terror as her mind was brought out of its lust-induced haze.

 

Gasping, she opened her eyes to gaze down at Sesshoumaru's intently blank face. She could only discern his ire in the flash of his golden eyes as he dipped his head back down to sooth the aching pain of the mark he had given her, saliva coating the tiny pinpricks and shoring up the flow of blood. “Pain,” he whispered, “cannot be escaped.”

 

Kagome felt her whole body shiver as a flush of heat consumed her body. She was unprepared for the things that followed, the nip of his teeth and the splay of his single hand tweaking her flesh as those firm, rigid muscles kept his body posed above her, sometimes resting on her body and sometimes held above it. Whenever her mind drifted on the cloud of exhilaration, he would bring her back down to the present and the reality of the moment with an extra wound, an new flash of pain.

 

As the feelings built within her, she at last learned what he meant when pain could not be escaped. It was not the little punishments he gave her when she became to eager or lost sight of reality, but it was the pain of unfulfilled desire flooding her body, promising her something but making her ache with anticipation.

 

When he removed the remainder of her clothing and his, she had nearly cried with relief, believing the end was in sight, but he disabused her of that notion when he took her, swiftly plunging into her body, not sparing her the pain of broken innocence. She bit him then, hard and swift on the shoulder in retribution for the lack of gentleness. She discovered the heady taste of salty blood as it trickled down her own throat; she nearly choked on the unexpected elixir. She had not known her teeth were sharp enough to break his skin.

 

But he merely continued to move within her, making her forget the taste of thickness and instead revealed in a different thickness stroking her insides and reminding her of that release just out of reach and which he kept denying her time and time again as he varied speed, varied rhythm, varied the touch of his hand and lips against her as he contorted himself to reach the places he most desired to service.

 

And her hands could do nothing but clutch him fiercely to herself, occasionally running down his back, scoring it with the blunt, broken nails of her hand. Sometimes she fought to keep him within her, to stop the thrusting of his hips with the squeezing of her legs wrapped around his hips, but he was youkai and herself merely human. She had not the power to stop the whirlwind of pleasure and mixed pain from consuming her.

 

And then she exploded with unexpected relief as he continued to pound within her until he found his own release. She had not expected to feel hurt when he pulled out of her, releasing into the ground next to them. She had forgotten, caught up in the moment, his view on hanyous and children, and she had forgotten what consequences her impulsive behavior could have on herself. She had not thought of pregnancies.

 

Her shock was drowned out when he hovered over her, picking her up and carrying her over to the stream where he gently laid her on the bank, half in and half out. She felt the pain of ravishment ease with the rushing water as it numbed her tender nerve endings. He cleaned her wounds and washed himself of Kagome's fluids. The mechanical movements were telling in Kagome's eyes of his distance from the act and highlighting it as merely a means of escape and nothing more.

 

She learned later that some of that hurt was because he was slowly stripping away the trust that had been induced with the release of hormones from her orgasm, the trust he induced within her by letting her reach fulfillment. He must have known, somehow, what it was because he was tearing down that tender moment, revealing a new hurt that she would never be able to escape even though she was grateful for the lesson, for the reminder of who she was, and the gift he had given her.

 

He had taken her on the ground, and she had let him because his mask showed her a man with the capacity to understand. What she had not counted on was that he understood more then she had thought possible when she solicited his touch. She learned far more then she ever wanted to in the years that followed, but she would never begrudge him those consequences, knowing she had chosen them herself. It reminded her that there were still things worth living for, if they could scar her soul. She just lacked the courage to fight through the pain to the pleasure and joy lying just beyond her reach.

 

Later, satiated and clean, he had covered her with the last of the bandages and carried her against his now clothed body back to camp. She had been half asleep in the gentle cradle of his arm, when she asked him, “Why?” She had not expected him to answer her, but she had felt the need to ask regardless. He had shown her many kindnesses that evening, and she was grateful for them.

 

He had merely pulled her closer to his body as he walked slowly through the night back to camp. As he set her back on her make-shift bed, he had replied, “Because I could not bring the kitsune back to life.”

 

—\-|-/—

 

Kagome wrenched her mind away from her memories, dashing away the tears that littered her eyes and soaked into the ground beneath her. She was tired of crying, tired of being teary-eyed and emotional. All she had done since she came back was weep and remember and weep some more.

 

This wasn't what she signed up for when she came back, all the heart-ache she had been fighting to keep at bay. Sure, she wasn't there to ease Sango's final moments, but from what Kaede had told her, she might not have been there anyways since she still had to go to college, still had to get a degree that would ultimately turn her into a doctor. Rationally, she knew all that, but that didn't make the ache leave her chest or keep the tears from pouring down her raw skin.

 

Taking a deep breath, Kagome shoved all the emotions to the side, blockading off the new layer of guilt from her conscious thought and turned to the tiny stone marker bearing Shippou's name. She was never quite sure what the kitsune was to her, sometimes brother and sometimes son with the bonds of friendship sealing the two together while they teetered back and forth in her mind, in her heart. All she knew was that the little rascal was special to her and had left a scar on her soul where his words of wisdom and his ability to still be a child despite the terrible situations they had gone through had once resided.

 

Bowing before the little shrine, she spoke to the kit, apologizing, and filling him in on the long years of her schooling and the fears she held in her heart about who she had become and the consequences she was just beginning to accept. While she talked, she felt a lightening in her heart as her eyes finally dried and the sky brightened into a beautiful summer day.

 

Somehow, talking to Shippou, she found a bit of hope that maybe she could get through everything.

 

—\-|-/—

 

Inuyasha's ears flattened against the side of his head. He had forgotten how much he hated Kagome's era with the stifling smells permeating the air and the constant thrum of noise. Creeping slowly into the sunlight, cringing at every new sound that threatened him, he made his way to the back of Kagome's house. There didn't seem to be anyone at the shrine at the moment; it was still too early for most to be awake even though the people back at the village had already put in an hour's worth of work.

 

“Keh,” he huffed. `People are so lazy,' he thought peering through one of the many windows, trying to see if Kagome's mother was in the kitchen or not. He needed to talk to her. Gingerly sniffing the air, he managed to filter out the many scents bombarding him to pick up the fresh scent of miso soup coming from the slight opening of the window.

 

Taking a deep breath, he crept around to the kitchen door and knocked on the hard wood, hoping it was Mrs. Higurashi on the other side and not someone like the old man. Fending off his sutras was not his idea of a good start to his day, not that it had been a particularly good one to begin with.

 

He would never be able to live down the fact he fell out of a damn tree and that it was Kagome that saved his wretched neck. Almost anything else he could live with, except for the tree. And with what he had planned, there was no way he'd be able to convince the girl to keep quiet about it.

 

Keh'ing again, he knocked on the screen having ascertained by the humming coming from inside and the clean, fresh scent wafting towards him that the person he wanted to see was there. Not waiting for an invitation, he shoved the screen aside and stepped through into the dimly lit kitchen, startling the woman as she turned around to investigate his knock.

 

“Inuyasha!” she cried, holding a wooden spoon to her apron covered chest as she fought to reconcile his sudden appearance after a four year absence. “What are you doing here?” she half-stuttered as she settled into the nearest chair.

 

“Kagome came back to my era today,” Inuyasha replied, crossing his arms defensively as his carefully worded request was quickly discarded out of memory loss. All he could think about was the fact he nearly broke his neck that morning.

 

“I—I know,” Mrs. Higurashi said having talked to her daughter the last three days in an attempt to shore up the girl's flagging courage. She knew that Kagome needed to put the past behind her once and for all which was why she had been so adamant about packing her bag full of goodies for those she had left behind. Her daughter had never been the same since she stopped journeying into the past, and she wanted her to have the confidence she seemed to have lost along the way returned to her.

 

“Oh,” was Inuyasha's blank reply. Shuffling his feet, he looked at everything except for the woman in front of him, a little disturbed at how much the last four and a half years had aged her.

 

Higurashi took pity on the poor half-demon and reached out a warm hand to touch his, startling him a little despite how carefully he watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Sit down Inuyasha. I'll fix us some breakfast, and you can tell me why you came straight here instead of spending time with Kagome. It was difficult for her to return, and I thought you'd be anxious to spend time with her.”

 

Inuyasha nodded miserably as he sat down on the now unfamiliar chairs and absentmindedly began to wolf down the food that was set before him. Slurping up the soup, he held out the bowl for a new helping, expectantly waiting for the offering. Smacking his lips happily as Mrs. Higurashi smiling got up to fulfill the silent request, he finally found the courage to talk.

 

“I don't know if Kagome's told you much about why she decided to just stop visiting us, but I think there are some things we need to discuss before she tries to run away again.”

 

Inuyasha watched Mrs. Higurashi's back with interest, noting that her posture changed little though her scent appeared to be strangely filled with relief. Turning around, she smiled sadly and returned Inuyasha's bowl to him. Sitting back down opposite of the carefully watching inu-youkai, she spoke calmly. “I know there's something she's been hiding from me that happened in the past, but she won't open up to me. I was hoping she would open up to you so she can tear down the emotional block she has and move on with her life.”

 

Her hands played idly with the table cloth, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles as she continued to carefully word her response. “She might be doing well with her school work, but I never hear her talking about her friends anymore. It's always about what she's learning in this class or what she's struggling with in another. Most mothers are doing everything they can to get their children to stop going to parties and study a little bit while they make plans for an upcoming marriage to this boyfriend or that.”

 

She looked up, staring into Inuaysha's bright gold eyes before saying the last of her concerns. “Kagome has never had a boyfriend and seems to show little interest in finding one. In fact, I've heard from several young men before she left for the US that she actually turned down every invitation to go out and get to know them. It's not healthy, and I think she won't be until she figures out whatever she needs to.”

 

Inuyasha's frown deepened. Sesshoumaru seemed to have really screwed up the Higurashi he had once known. She used to befriend everyone and was oblivious to every overture of romantic interest except the blatant ones like the mangy wolf's. Her transformation had scarred more deeply then he had first guessed, and it was going to be up to him to force her to acknowledge it.

 

“Good, then we're thinking the same thing.” Inuyasha set down the bowl having already emptied it and slurped up the dregs. Pulling out a piece of paper from his robes, he slapped it on the table, gesturing for Kagome's mother to pick it up. “I want you to keep that pinned to the well for at least a week while we try to talk some sense into Kagome. She's going to try to run away again, I think, and if she does she probably won't come back. That's why you have to seal the well behind me!”

 

Mrs. Higurashi picked up the flimsy piece of paper, noting the Kanji and sensing the slight spiritual pressure coming from it, something she had picked up from Kagome. She was by no means a miko, but she at least learned she had a slight glimmering of power within her.

 

Nodding her head, she agreed to Inuyasha's request and prayed that her daughter would understand when all was said and done. With luck, Kagome would never know anyways.

 

—\-|-/—

 

Inuyasha poked his head out of the well, hanging on to the ledge with two hands as he surveyed his surroundings. Thank-fully noting the empty clearing, he cleanly pulled himself out of the well. Pausing to gaze in the direction of the village, he sent a silent apology to Kagome before turning to the west. It was time he talked to his half-brother again.

 

—\-To Be Continued-/—

 

Author's Note: And I have thus succeeded in more then doubling my current word count. Oh the irony... Although, I should warn all my readers right now that grad school takes up a large chunk of my time and that while I never mean to take a month to write a new chapter, it is by far too often the case. That, and my brain is often to fried with studying and work to be able to capture the nuances of multi-chaptered fics and turn to one-shots instead since there are no plot-holes to contend with. However, I hope this chapter was well worth the wait. If not, at least I made up for it in length!