InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Different Always Means The Same Thing ❯ Black Holes and Red Marks ( Chapter 8 )

A/N: I apologize profusely for the lateness of this chapter. It seems whenever I get up to asking life for a little break, more shit just hits the fan. Oh well, boring real life aside, this chap gave me a lot of trouble in places (a little something I like to call selective writer's block) Basically, I know where the story's going and how it's going to get there, I just occasionally run into a patch where I can't seem to write it the way I want to. Thankfully, I pulled myself out of that hole, wrote the longest chapter on record for this fic (a little over 20 pages in Word!) and managed to get out some good developments for my effort--- slowly but surely a plot is forming (I repeat this to myself whenever I feel like banging my head against the keyboard) and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did bringing it to life. Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers who stuck with me even after a month long wait. And with a cliffhanger too. Yikes! Sorry about that!

 

Disclaimer: If I was making a profit off this I wouldn't have to get up early for class tomorrow, now would I?

 

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Chapter 8: Black Holes and Red Marks

 

By Kenkaya

 

 

“And so that's what happened over the past two days,” Kagome finished from her kitchen chair, a strong case of déjà vu washing over her. Tentatively, she waited on tender hooks for her audience's response.

 

Miroku leaned back with a thoughtful “hmm.” He had sat still through the entire story, occasionally nodding his head with a contemplative expression. Now, with all the facts out on the table, he seemed to be mulling them over carefully.

 

Sango's interest had been far less reserved. Rising from her kneeling position soon after Inuyasha's awakening was mentioned; she proceeded to walk circles around the perplexed youkai, pausing occasionally to properly examine him from every possible corner while he scooted back and forth not-so-subtly. By the end of the tale, Inuyasha was shooting Kagome obvious “get your creepy friend away from me, NOW!” glares. Sadly, she was far too anxious to humor him and the trend persisted through the following silence.

 

“Some fascinating developments, I must say,” Miroku commented simply, concluding his lengthy brainstorm. Lifting ungloved hand to stroke his chin, the overtly dramatic teen “hmm” `ed once more, completely ignoring his girlfriend's antics.

 

“You can say that again,” Kagome chuckled intrusively, sending the amber-eyed nuisance a “deal with it” look while she was at it. “But I was wondering Miroku--- has this Kagura person ever approached you or--- maybe--- have you heard anything about her?”

 

“So that's why,” Inuyasha suddenly interjected, causing Sango to jump back a bit in surprise. “You didn't tell your mother all that stuff.”

 

“Of course not!” the young girl fumed. “Would you tell YOUR mother if someone offered you a shady deal and then later that night masked thugs tried to kill you?!” the youkai suppressed a flush of shame at her words. Of course he knew, but Kagome wasn't aware of that. He had kept many similar secrets from his own mother centuries ago. Even the incident with the doctor, he had returned to her room late that afternoon and claimed to have missed the man.

 

“Anyway,” she continued, ignorant to the youkai's inner turmoil. “Miroku's a mutant too so I figured he might know something about Kagura and the organization she works for. It's too much of a coincidence that I happened to be attacked the same night that woman came with her offer. I'm pretty sure the two are connected.”

 

“I agree,” Miroku sighed, arm dropping to his lap. “Unfortunately, I don't have any information regarding your mysterious `Kagura,' but I could always ask Kaede-sensei--- that is, of course, if you don't mind. In fact, I may not have been solicited like you because of my affiliation with her.”

 

“Is she from the school you mentioned a while back?” Kagome questioned. In the background, Inuyasha humorously evaded Sango's energetic attempts to grab hold of his ears for closer inspection.

 

“Why, yes. Kaede-sensei is headmistress,” Miroku perked up at her apparent interest. “She's a delightful old lady and incredibly intelligent--- I'm sure you'd like her.”

 

“Miroku--- you've asked me before and the answer is still no,” the mutant girl rebuked sharply. “It's bad enough with practically everyone at school knowing. If I joined now--- my family would be dragged in deeper by the stigma. Besides, I can't really afford to drop anymore hints to Jii-chan. He wouldn't be able to take it.” Kagome bit her lip at the end of her practiced spiel. She wasn't exactly lying, family had definitely been a main factor in her reasoning, but the troubled teen had never given voice to her other (deeper) trepidations for fear the loyal couple would realize just how insecure she was.

 

Kagome received her first invitation shortly after joining their tiny group. The idea of a “mutant school,” which the junior high senior could attend anonymously during evenings, where her unique abilities could be honed to benefit society- had hardly seemed a tempting option at the time. Her pain over suddenly being ousted from an accepting society was still fresh. Miroku had simply smiled at her flat refusal, ending the subject by stating he'd “been a doubter once too,” and never asked again (though he brought up hints occasionally to suggest the offer was still open.)

 

Back then, she had been reluctant and green; now, she was just plain frightened. Oh, the girl didn't hate herself for being a mutant, and she certainly wasn't afraid to use her powers anymore, but joining would mean accepting a personal commitment. One she wasn't sure she was ready to take. Kagome worried to the point of neurotic that, if she were to reach that point, things would change; wouldn't be as simple anymore.

 

“I understand,” Miroku spoke, breaking her line of thought. Sango had paused off to the side, brow furrowed, giving her new guinea pig opportunity to shield himself behind Kagome.

 

“Kagome-chan--- that reminds me, about your grandfather---”

 

“We're home!”

 

The foursome visibly jumped as running footsteps pounded down the hall. Souta skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, decked out in all his tussled eight-year-old glory. A wide grin spilt across his face.

 

“Awesome, Miroku's here! Someone I can finally play Street Fighter with!”

 

“I'm afraid you're out of luck, Souta,” the young man put on a superior air. “I refuse to taint my hands by touching a controller connected to a fighting game not made by SNK.”

 

“Aww! But nobody else here can play me!” the boy whined.

 

“Well--- how about next time I come over I bring a copy of King of Fighters to conver--- to play with you. I swear you'll never poison yourself with another Capcom game again.”

 

“Oh, Miroku-kun--- Sango-chan, I didn't realize you were here,” Higurashi-san chimed in, stepping around her sulking son. Her movement was a bit awkward, and rightfully so, as she was balancing multiple bags with only two arms.

 

“Mama!” Kagome exclaimed, rushing over to relieve her. “Let me get some of those--- Souta!” she rounded on her mopey brother. “Why didn't you help Mama carry the bags inside?”

 

“I did,” he mumbled, still pouting. “I helped her carry them to the door.”

 

“Why! You unbelievable---”

 

“Kids! We have company!” the older woman emphasized. The pair immediately stopped trying to strangle each other.

 

“Oh, don't mind me,” Miroku grinned deviously. “I find violent sibling rivalry quite amusing, actually.”

 

Inuyasha turned to peg him with a stony look, “I don't really know you,” he began. “But something about the way you said that makes me think you're really a twisted person.”

 

“Is it that obvious?” the male teen blinked. Inuyasha blinked back, not expecting such a blunt response.

 

“At least he hasn't seen how perverted you are yet,” Sango remarked dryly. Her boyfriend appeared hurt at those words.

 

“Why, my darling Sango,” he gasped, violet eyes tearing up on cue. “You know my hands belong to your rear--- and your rear alone! After you, I could never bring myself to grope another woman again!”

 

“Honestly, Miroku!” she shouted. “You don't have any respect for me do you? Have you ever thought that maybe I might have some feelings on the matter? What if I don't want to be touched like that in public--- or without my permission for that matter? Have you ever thought about that?”

 

“Oh, but how can I possibly be expected to keep my wits about me in the presence of such beauty? You are cruel, my beloved Sango! Too cruel!”

 

“Well, perhaps if you respected my personal rights---”

 

The tomboy's sentence was cut off by the set of lips now stealing breath from hers. All too soon, contact was broken and they stood mere inches apart; Sango staring at him with wide, emotion-filled maroon irises.

 

“Sango,” Miroku whispered, his voice lowered to a rich baritone.

 

“Oh, Miroku!” she cried, flinging herself toward him at the same time he leapt for her. They crashed together in a mangled heap of limbs and touching body parts, falling to their knees as they slumped against each other. Caught up in the moment and completely unaware of their audience, the couple proceeded to engage in a very graphic make-out session on the Higurashi's kitchen floor.

 

“Eeeew!” Souta moaned, turning away while making gagging motions.

 

“Oh, my! There's just no stopping them, is there?” Higurashi-san clapped a dainty hand to her cheek. Kagome shook her head with a `here they go again' eye roll.

 

“I think we should leave the room before they REALLY get carried away,” the girl muttered. Her family took the initiative, leaving poor Kagome alone to hoist a mortified Inuyasha up by the elbow.

 

“Kagome, dear,” her mother called back. “When those two are done, why don't you invite them to dinner?”

 

“Sure thing, Mama,” the mutant girl answered while dragging a reluctant youkai behind her. Golden eyes stared as the entwined couple disappeared beyond the hallway corner, still attempting without success to process what he just witnessed. Sure, Inuyasha had seen people kissing before, but the act (as he recalled) was always treated as something secretive; done between lovers in shadowed corners and forest hallows. Not in an exposed room and certainly not with visible spectators. He found himself wondering: what kind of culture bred such free behavior?

 

“Sorry you had to see that,” Kagome shrugged sheepishly. Inuyasha flicked his gaze from the wall to look her in the eye. He may not have voiced or hinted his gratitude, but the time-hopper did appreciate her clumsy attempt to ease his discomfort.

 

“I mean--- geez!” she steered headfirst into a rant. “I swear, every single time! Those two just can't keep their hands off each other for more than five minutes!” the teen finished with a frustrated huff, undermined by the wistful smile adorning her face. Ear muscles ticked repeatedly as his head spun in circles. So their actions were commonplace? Inuyasha lost count of the many times he felt like an utter alien in this world, yet he had a growing feeling that particular incident was quickly climbing to the top of the list.

 

Meanwhile, nearly ten minutes later in the previously occupied kitchen, Sango and Miroku broke apart giggling. The boy's vocal amusement soon died, even if the jaw-splitting grin on his face did not. Sango, still tittering, rested her head along the crook under his chin. They sat together in a loose embrace, basking in the afterglow, content to absorb themselves in their love for each other. Violet eyes scanned the room languidly before a nagging thought finally clicked in the boy's brain.

 

“Huh? Where did everybody go?” he blinked.

 

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“---And Houjou was so busy shouting insults at us, he didn't even notice the fence pole until he slammed into it face first! Then he did this funny little backwards arm wave and fell flat on his ass in front of half the school! It was hilarious! You should have been there Kagome-chan!”

 

“Sounds like it, Sango-chan,” Kagome grinned half-heartedly at her excited friend. “So--- do you have those assignments you came here to give me?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Sango jumped up, remembering the initial reason for her and Miroku's visit. “They're in my bag.”

 

The mutant girl felt a wave of relief rush over her as the pony-tailed girl scurried off to fulfill her goal. Not that Kagome wasn't grateful for Sango's attempts to cheer her up, but the last thing she wanted at the moment was to be reminded of her heartache in front of everyone. Especially Inuyasha and her family.

 

The lovey-dovey couple had accepted the Higurashi's invitation to dinner earlier, after a brief return from cloud nine. Now, the entire group sat clustered in the living room: Kagome and her mother dominated the sofa, Miroku had made himself comfortable in an adjacent matching chair (his girlfriend perched on the wide, cushioned arm when present,) while Inuyasha and Souta occupied the ever popular floor.

 

“Hey, Miroku-niisan,” the eight-year-old suddenly piped up, breaking the standing quiet that descended on the room at Sango's departure. “I know you're a mutant like neechan too--- but I kinda always wondered--- what are your powers?”

 

“Souta, sweetheart--- you shouldn't just come out and ask personal questions like that,” Higurashi sighed at her son's childish curiosity. “It's a sensitive subject. What if Miroku-kun doesn't feel comfortable discussing those things?”

 

“But neechan never told me! And I've been wanting to know since forever!”

 

“Oh, it's quite alright, Higurashi-san,” Miroku waved a placating hand. “I'm not ashamed of what I am and I trust your family.”

 

“Yeah! Told you!” the boy cheered, completely forgetting his former hesitation. Inuyasha leaned closer at the impromptu celebration, attempting rather unsuccessfully to hide his own interest. He wanted--- no, needed to know more; old instincts kicking in despite the massive information overload he'd experienced over the past two days. Kagome and the thugs who attacked her were the only other mutants he'd seen since waking up and (though he'd been told powers varied from person to person) the full extent of their abilities remained a mystery to him. Inuyasha didn't like uncertainties. A hard life had taught him to always look for possible trouble in order to avoid it in future endeavors. Besides, he was still wary of this Miroku character.

 

“I'll show you,” he smiled as Sango re-entered the room, papers in hand. Slowly, he began to undo the clasps of his gauntlet. Inuyasha and Souta inched close eagerly as the mutant boy pulled away the thick material to reveal---

 

A perfectly smooth, ordinary right hand.

 

“Aw, I thought you were hiding something cool under there,” Souta fell back with a groan. The child's disappointment echoed Inuyasha's sentiments exactly. That had been an awful lot of build-up for nothing.

 

“You think not?” Miroku quirked a dark eyebrow playfully. Suddenly, the whole atmosphere shifted. Every single alarm in the youkai's head went off with a vengeance as surrounding air currants switched abruptly to converge on the nonchalant boy. A brief glance around the room revealed to Inuyasha that, while everyone else had definitely felt the change, none seemed very startled by the drastic effect. Thoroughly unnerved by now, sharp amber eyes and sensitive ear skin quickly zeroed in until all his senses found common focus on a tiny spot, barely a centimeter from the mutant's palm. Slitted orbs narrowed. For a second, Inuyasha swore he saw a rip in the air, a void of suspended nothingness little more than the size of a rice grain; but almost as soon as he noticed it, the hole vanished, leaving the perplexed youkai to wonder if he had just imagined the whole apparition.

 

“Miroku!”

 

Sango screeched as multiple ivory white sheets flew from her arms and scattered in mid-air. Just as suddenly as it began, the environment snapped dramatically back to normalcy. Papers fluttered noisily as everyone in the room (aside from both female teenagers) attempted to comprehend what had just happened. A resounding click reverberated. Miroku finished fastening the final clasp of his gauntlet before the first gliding sheet even touched the ground.

 

“Damn it, Miroku! You did that on purpose!” flames engulfed the girl's blazing maroon eyes, causing the recipient to chuckle nervously as he scratched the back of his neck.

 

“Now, now, Sango--- they just asked what my power was so I obliged.”

 

“You didn't have to show them like that!”

 

“Now, kids,” Higurashi placated, preparing to assume her familiar roll of peacemaker.

 

“What in the Hell was that?”

 

Five heads turned in unison towards Inuyasha's vehement outburst. Immediately, Miroku opened his mouth, always ready to have a little more fun. One look at the aggravated youkai (clawed fingers hooked into the carpet, whole body tense, fangs subtly barred) and the young mutant decided against it. He had to remind himself they were dealing with a displaced supernatural being (of relatively unknown capabilities) who was constantly on edge: a potentially dangerous combination that probably wouldn't appreciate his warped jokes. Miroku valued his life after all.

 

“What you just witnessed was the result of my power,” he began to explain with a wary eye on Inuyasha. “I'm able to manifest an inter-dimensional tear through the palm of my right hand. What you felt was the vacuum pull of the small opening I summoned.”

 

“That's so unbelievably cool!” Souta practically drooled. As a child literally bombarded with science fiction concepts in manga and video games, he had no problem understanding the basic mechanics.

 

Meanwhile, the unwitting time traveler merely sat there, blinking dumbly. In her head, Kagome began a mental countdown: three--- two---

 

“Inter-WHAT?!”

 

One. Wow, she conjured an imaginary whistle. That was fast.

 

“Well you see--- how to explain this,” Miroku ran his gloved hand through ebony strands with a troubled sigh. Perceiving a somewhat superior air in the boy's words, Inuyasha allowed a low growl to issue from the depths of his throat. He had been looked down on many times in the past and ample experience had proved that he absolutely loathed the feeling. However, a sharp kick to his lower back silenced the affronted youkai, reminding him painfully that a certain girl was sitting directly behind him on the cushioned couch.

 

“Ah! I have it!” Miroku snapped his fingers triumphantly, catching everyone's attention. “Alright, now, imagine a mirror---” he paused for effect.

 

“Yeah, and the point of that is?” Inuyasha received another swift kick for his intended sarcasm.

 

“Well, when you look into a mirror you see a reflection--- now, imagine that reflection is another you: walking alongside you, living a life parallel to yours, but you can only see each through the mirror because you live on different planes of existence. Now take away the mirror and you have two different worlds right beside each other but who are unaware of one another. Almost like our world is a ghost of theirs and vice versa.”

 

“I think I get it,” the white-haired boy mumbled, rubbing the left side of his skull with the end of his palm.

 

“Good,” Miroku nodded before quickly moving on. “Now what I'm able to do is create a sort of portal between those worlds. However, the leftover force behind opening it converts into a type of vacuum. Meaning, if I were to use this ability fully on someone, they would be sucked into the other world without hope of escape--- at least, not through me.”

 

“So why do you wear that glove-thing?” Souta chirped. Inuyasha internally thanked the boy for voicing his own daunting curiosity. As far as he was concerned, the youkai had made a fool of himself enough for one day.

 

“Well--- you see,” the mutant hesitated a bit, though not out of fear. A light flush briefly brushed across his cheeks as he plunged onward. “When my power first manifested, I--- I didn't have very much control. It didn't happen often in the beginning and the openings were rather small so I tried to ignore it. Eventually, I noticed they had a tendency to pop up when I was emotional or tired--- so I pushed away my friends, became cold to everyone, and gained a reputation for sleeping through classes. Not like they would have stuck around once they found out anyway. But of course, that couldn't last for very long---”

 

Sango placed a comforting hand on his upper arm. She knew the story by heart and all the painful parts where he might need support. Miroku covered her hand with his, tossing a grateful smile over his shoulder before continuing.

 

“One night I--- got into a very bad fight with Mushin, my foster father,” he elaborated for the two floor loafers. “I lost it big time. The hole was bigger than usual, and the suction was powerful enough to actually pull Mushin off his feet. In a panic, I closed my hand into a fist but I could feel the vacuum pulling at my fingers. Back then, I had no clue of exactly what I was doing. The thought of being sucked into an unknown void, possibly dying or being trapped forever in nothingness, numbed my mind long enough for me to finally concentrate on closing the rip. Afterward--- Mushin told me that I needed to go get help--- that I couldn't just keep dealing with it by myself like this. Kaede-sensei recruited me shortly afterwards.”

 

“Is she the person who made that for you?” the child interrupted with pointed finger and classic timing.

 

“Oh, no,” Miroku chuckled, seeming to break out of his self-induced melancholy. “We decided early on, since I was a danger to others as well as myself, that--- precautions--- should be taken until I gained more control. Kaede-sensei contacted one of her American colleagues and he found someone over there to make this for me (Forge was his name, I believe.) Anyway, the glove has been inter-woven with small fibers of a unique metal called vibranium which has been altered to absorb the vibrations caused by the pull of my---”

 

The young man trailed off on the technical details. Inuyasha had completely discarded any pretext of appearing interested in the face of utter bewilderment. Even Souta seemed stretched to his sci-fi loving limits.

 

“Oh, I give up,” Miroku sighed, falling back in his soft armchair. A crafty arm sneaked around Sango's waist, pulling her stealthily onto his lap while she squealed indignation.

 

“Oh for the love of--- can you please restrain yourselves just this once?” Kagome moaned, complete with eye roll. “For all our sakes.”

 

“But how can I possibly hold myself back within arm's reach of such unwavering beauty?”

 

“Oh, Miroku--- you're hopeless,” Sango sighed with a playful elbow to his gut. The boy in question grinned mischievously, but (to everyone's immediate relief) initiated a tickle battle instead of the expected tongue wrestle.

 

The two guests didn't stay much longer, citing the late hour as they rose to leave. Kagome cheerfully waved her friends goodbye from the top of the shrine stairs before remembering Sango had mentioned something about her grandfather earlier. She opened her mouth to call out, knowing full well that Sango's aunt worked at the hospital, but soon cut off the shout. They had already reached street level besides, she assured herself, the doctor would have called if something important had happened. Stifling a yawn as the couple walked out of sight, the weary girl figured she could always ask tomorrow.

 

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“Are you almost ready, Kagome-dear?” Higurashi called from the kitchen stove. Said girl walked in the doorway seconds later, sleepy eyed and obviously not appreciating the morning hour.

 

“Yeah, Mama,” a loud yawn punctuated her sentence as she seated herself at the table. “I'm just gonna grab something to eat real quick.”

 

“You're not wearing your school uniform,” the woman frowned at her daughter's plain, oversized t-shirt and ripped jeans.

 

“Oh yeah,” Kagome scratched her scalp to cover the pause. “I was thinking of--- going somewhere for a little bit after school, just to give myself a break from everything. Don't worry, I won't stay out too long and I have an extra uniform in my bag.”

 

“Alright,” Higurashi relented, expression clearly showing she hadn't swallowed the terrible lie at all. Lips twitched nervously, as if hesitating to commit themselves to her next words, before finally managing (with visible trepidation) to part the thick silence. “You're a good girl, Kagome--- I know that. I'm just afraid you'll stop caring and start acting like--- like some delinquent. You're better than that.”

 

“I know, Mama,” the teen mumbled, watery brown eyes downcast. What could she say to her mother? Certainly not the truth: that her school stopped caring for her ages ago. It would break the poor woman's heart.

 

“So--- what do you have planned for Inuyasha today?” the girl asked, desperate to change the subject. Amazingly enough, the tactless ploy seemed to work.

 

“Oh, I was planning on giving him some chores to do around the shrine. Goodness knows things haven't been the same since your grandfather fell ill. Besides, he could probably use a break of his own from studying.”

 

“That sounds good, Mama,” Kagome spoke tentatively. “But what if one of the tourists sees him? Bit of a far stretch to say he was wearing a costume for sweeping.”

 

“Oh, that's right, I didn't show you my purchases yesterday,” Higurashi perked up. She turned off the stove flame quickly before scurrying out of the room in a flurry of excitement. “Why don't you go get Inuyasha-kun, dear,” she threw over her shoulder. “He should see this too.”

 

Kagome shrugged indifferently. Covering another wide yawn, she rose slowly and trudged toward the stairs to follow her mother's whimsy.

 

“I heard my name.”

 

Bleary eyes peered up to meet piercing amber, glaring at her from above. She should have guessed, the drowsy girl thought as she blinked back from the bottom step, especially after yesterday's escapade.

 

“Mama wants to see us both for something,” she spun around quickly, missing the strange look that crossed Inuyasha's face at her dulled tone.

 

“Oi! What's your problem?” he groused.

 

“It's seven-thirty in the morning! That's my problem!”

 

The youkai backed off instantly, deciding it was in his best interest to keep his big mouth shut. Deep down, a primal male instinct whispered to him that incurring Kagome's wrath now would be a very, VERY dangerous thing.

 

“Ah, here we are!” Higurashi-san exclaimed as they entered the dining area together. “I was wondering when you two would decide to show up. Here,” she pushed a large shopping bag over the table. “This is for you, Inuyasha-kun.”

 

The boy in question merely stared at the object in front of him. From across, the older woman beamed: hands folded delicately as she waited patiently for him to open her gift. He chanced a sideways glance at Kagome to find the half-awake teenager seemed just as curious as he. Having received no clue from either female, Inuyasha reached into the mysterious bag without further adieu.

 

“The Hell?”

 

He pulled out a soft, durable cloth of dark grey. Spreading the material apart upon closer inspection, the youkai realized with a start that the article appeared to be a garment of some sort; cut almost identical to the ones Kagome and Souta usually wore on their upper bodies.

 

“You bought him clothes, Mama?” snowy ears twitched expectantly as Kagome voiced the exact question running through his skull.

 

“Well, I didn't go overboard, dear--- just a couple t-shirts and a pair of jeans to start with. I figured, now that he can fit in a bit better, the two of you could shop for more later. After all,” she smiled humorously. “We wouldn't want Inuyasha-kun to go walking through town looking like his mother dressed him, would we?”

 

“Thanks, Mama,” the young girl nodded. She turned to her companion, fully ready to kick an expression of gratitude out of him, but halted at the odd shimmer in his eyes. An experimental hand reached out, waving inches from his nose before retracting slowly, dejected by his lack of reaction. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he spun around suddenly, pegging her with glimmering gold.

 

“Inuyasha?” she inquired softly. He didn't answer, only continued to stare through her iridescent depths.

 

To say Inuyasha was touched would be quite accurate, though much more than he'd be willing to admit. The boy sat there, blankly observing Kagome's baffled response as emotions swirled wildly inside; churning into a veritable maelstrom of confusion. His mind swam madly, searching anywhere for a decent handhold and latched onto the largest outcrop immediately. Nostalgic sadness filled him. He vividly remembered his own mother giving him the firerat cloth as a child. The noble woman had smiled back then, humming softly as she wrapped sturdy red fabric around his small frame: wistfully telling him the story behind `his father's final gift.' A ruefully twitch escaped the corner of his perpetual scowl.

 

That had been the last time anyone provided for, let alone clothed, him. No one cared to after his mother died.

 

But, the youkai realized with overwhelming astonishment, the Higurashi family already had done both. They offered meals, a comfortable place to sleep, and information to him without asking a single thing in return. Now, Higurashi-san presented him with modern wear. An unfamiliar prickle emerged behind amber eyes. Kagome tapped his shoulder gently, voicing concern as he fought valiantly against the traitorous moisture. It was at that precise moment Inuyasha recognized how truly lucky he was.

 

The world was cruel and (from what he gathered) it didn't seem that fact had changed over the last five centuries. Souta's bruises, Kagome's tears, Miroku's story--- they all proved to him the average human still shunned what society deemed abnormal. Mutants, though different, were still human beings essentially. He, however, was another story entirely.

 

Inuyasha knew Kagome's abilities: he'd watched her walk on air after awakening, seen her tease Souta for taking too long in the bathroom by sticking a warning hand through solid wood door. He suppressed a shutter. How easy would it have been for her to escape him that night? To see him as something other than human; something to be feared, hated, and simply phase through his arms? She could have slid through the wall, fleeing as a surprised youkai stood there in shock, leaving him alone to confront a world he had absolutely no idea how to coexist with. Most, he thought bitterly, would have.

 

Not Kagome.

 

She had stayed, looked straight at him and (after one of what he began to consider their `routine shouting matches') asked who he was. Holding the t-shirt gingerly in front of him, Inuyasha couldn't help musing that the mutant girl had inherited more than just eye color from her mother. The youkai had never met such a generous family in all his years.

 

“Inuyasha?!”

 

Worried brown broke through his rumination. Kagome leaned forward with furrowed brow, a small hand resting lightly on his red sleeve, face perilously close.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Of course I am!” he shot back gruffly, more than a little pink on the cheeks. The youkai jerked back roughly, dislodging her loose grip in the process. He really was grateful--- but Inuyasha still had his pride to maintain.

 

“Oh, I see,” the girl murmured as she backed away shyly.

 

“Well, I'm sure you won't need to wear all of these today,” Higurashi interjected, sensing the young man had just sent a potentially tender moment crashing out the window. “Nobody will find the old fashion clothing out of place on shrine grounds, at least. The ears might be a little harder to explain--- I didn't think to get him a hat yesterday, but I'm sure one of my work bandanas should do the trick for now.”

 

“What for?” Inuyasha squinted suspiciously across the table. “Am I going outside for some reason?”

 

“Well, with Kagome going to school, I thought you might enjoy some fresh air--- you've been cooped up for a long time,” the older woman answered his glare with a smile.

 

“Really? I don't need to watch that T.V. thing or read that book anymore?” to his credit, the youkai did make a token attempt to disguise his immense delight, though he failed miserably for lack of caring. He merely shrugged the slip off. Tact was never one of his stronger points anyway.

 

“Hate to burst your bubble, Inuyasha,” the teen chuckled at his perplexed expression. “But you still have a long way to go--- five hundred years is a lot to catch up on. Just think of today as a short break.”

 

“I guess,” he pouted slightly. “So what am I supposed to do all day?”

 

“Ah, I'll handle that,” Higurashi volunteered, gaining another dubious look. “You see--- there's plenty of work to do around the grounds. It'll get you out of the house and keep you occupied so you don't start to suffer boredom. Besides, I could really use the help.”

 

Silence reigned supreme as both females watched for the youkai's reaction carefully. He went from slightly flustered pink to full-blown scarlet in a matter of seconds. Face muscles worked furiously, mouth falling open several times only to close as he bit down whatever scathing words had formed on his tongue, slitted pupils practically invisible amidst a sea of wide amber. Surprise, disbelief, and (finally) fury flashed across his trembling countenance before sound eventually managed to escape mute flapping lips.

 

“You--- want me--- to do--- labor,” Inuyasha sputtered indignantly. The middle-age woman cocked her head quizzically, not fully understanding why her mundane request appeared to offend him so. How could she know he spent his childhood as a noblewoman's son (despised though he was) and subsequent years in the woods as a lone, self-sufficient survivor? Never in his life had he worked for another person; he certainly refused to act like some human's dog! Perhaps he had judged too kindly earlier. The boy inhaled sharply, ready to further give a piece of his mind.

 

Souta chose that particular moment to conveniently barge in.

 

“Inu-no-niichan's up! Cool! Can I stay home and help him out today?! Huh?! Huh, Mama?! Pretty Please?!”

 

Kagome promptly enacted a face-plant on the dining table, dreading the inevitable three-way battle that was to come.

 

“No, Souta,” Higurashi tactfully took control of the situation. “Finish getting ready for school--- and its not labor, Inuyasha-kun. Just a few simple chores---”

 

“Oh, servant's work then. Why didn't you tell me sooner? That makes me feel so much better!” the youkai snapped, literarily dripping sarcasm.

 

“Now, now. I'd never ask you to do something I wouldn't be willing to. Actually, Kagome and Souta often---”

 

“I don't care!” he interrupted. “You can't just make me do whatever you want!”

 

“Inuyasha-kun---”

 

“Aw, come on! Neechan got to skip yesterday! I wanna help Inu-no-niichan too!”

 

“I'm off!” Kagome chose then to make a hasty escape from her chaotic household. She rushed out the door, racing down long familiar stairs, jumping the last two as tradition warranted. Sounds of war faded behind her as she continued her mad dash at street-level.

 

The girl didn't slow her pace until she was well out of range. Releasing a prolonged sigh the wound-up youth didn't even realize she had been holding, the trek to school resumed at a more relaxed gait. First thing, she began rummaging through her bag, pulled out the folded sick note her mother wrote that morning and tossed it dismissively into the nearest trash can. The validated excuse wouldn't have done her any worthwhile good anyway.

 

Kagome exhaled loudly. School had fast become a sort of voluntary prison for her. Only the thought of her mother's disapproval (on top of an innate eagerness to learn) stopped her from ditching the institution altogether. Staff and teachers ignored her, as if paying little to no attention could erase her existence from the very earth. Students were by far worse. They teased and bullied: never letting a single reminder of her outcast status slip by. No one admonished her for attending out of uniform, bothered to acknowledge her work (the mutant had accepted the fact that every assignment or piece of homework she did was a personal achievement now.) Sango and Miroku alone made the ordeal bearable.

 

A standard, sterilized white building loomed into view. Kagome paused. Dumbly, she stood at the wrought iron gate, watching with misted brown as several teenage boys ran past, laughing playfully while chasing after a renegade soccer ball. Not too far off, she spotted her old friends: Eri, Yuka, and Arumi sitting clustered together in a neat semi-circle, talking excitedly amongst themselves complete with hand gestures. She looked on as shy Arumi suddenly began blushing to the roots of her dark curly hair, the others seemingly grilling her on an uncomfortable subject. Probably Houjou, Kagome thought absently. She heard in passing several weeks ago that the two had become an item.

 

Waves of sorrow crashed over her heart as a cold wind blew from behind, conjuring a frosty mist to glaze over her memories. To think, just a few short months ago, she would have been kneeling in the empty space beside them; swapping gossip and stories.

 

Like there was nothing more important in the world.

 

The melancholy teenager sighed. God she had been so naïve then, ignorant by choice of mankind's inherent bigotry. As if sensing her lingering gaze, the trio turned, hushing immediately when she met their dirty looks head on. Yuka (unofficial leader of the group) made a stiff jerking motion, giving the girls signal to retreat. Kagome could only stare with masked longing as they scurried away out of sight. Like Houjou and so many others, they had abandoned her.

 

Unexpected as it came, the brief squall calmed into a gentle breeze. Kagome inhaled the clean chill deeply. Those innocent days may be gone, but for everything she had lost, the girl had to admit she gained invaluable things in return. She never once gave “mutant lover” Sango the time of day until after that fateful math class event when, feeling alone and scared, Kagome hid in the girl's bathroom during class for a good cry. She remembered soft words filtering through the stall door, a simple phrase that only brought more tears to her eyes.

 

“Is that you in there, Higurashi Kagome? Are you alright?”

 

That, she smiled, was real friendship. Not the glossed over amity she shared before. Feeling restored, Kagome took another breath, stepped across the threshold, and plunged in. Conversation halted on cue as she entered the courtyard, soon replaced by easily overheard whispers. Kids hurried out of her way to make a wide path. She held her head high through it all. A pariah, outcast: she refused to let them win, staring past them toward the open door, a mirage of Sango and Miroku waving warmly from the end.

 

Kagome made it to her first class without further incident. She walked aimlessly to the back row where she usually sat, visibly apart from the rest of her peers. The bell rang and the entire room quieted as their teacher stood at attention.

 

“Put your work on the right-hand corner of your desks, please,” Yamashita-sensei instructed needlessly. Everyone knew the routine by now. He traveled between the rows in an efficient manner, collecting papers from each student without breaking his brisk stride.

 

Until he reached Kagome.

 

She saw him pause out of the corner of her eye, fingers hovering barely inches from her large stack, before they fell back and he moved on. Her homework remained untouched. Hardly surprising, she fumed inwardly. Teachers rarely picked up her assignments these days and managed to grade them even less.

 

Tucking her forsaken work away, Kagome proceeded to open her notebook; preparing enthusiastically for her favorite part of class: lecture. Of course, the neglected pupil was never called on and a few spitballs always seemed to make their way into her long sable locks during this time, but Kagome found it much easier to pretend she was actively participating while Yamashita-sensei talked endlessly. Pen ink flew furiously across manufactured blue lines as she scribbled copious notes. She had to learn this, the girl repeated like a mental mantra, to absorb everything she could. Even if it was mostly for her own sake now.

 

Yamashita-sensei's voice droned on as Kagome became lost in thought.

 

She had loved school before (perhaps with the exception of math) and been a model student. Houjou, with his top ranking test score, had been a perfect match for her. The aspiring teen couldn't help basking in the glow that came with her popularity status back then, arrogantly believing her future could be nothing but brighter. Oh, how wrong she had been. So very wrong.

 

A sticky, wet ball bounced off her cheek, followed by a series of snickers that went unscolded. Kagome blatantly ignored them. She found it cruelly ironic that she, once little Miss Teacher's Pet, was now practically considered “drop-out” material. Another spitball smacked her temple, staying stuck this time. The mutant peeled the white glob off casually without blinking to a chorus of loud snorts. Yamashita-sensei said nothing about their behavior.

 

Life, she wanted to scream, wasn't fair.

 

----------

 

Kagome didn't have time to react, let alone scream, as she was roughly shoved into an open broom closet. Her upper arm slammed against the butt of a hanging mop, tearing a sharp cry from the depths of her throat. Malicious laughter echoed through the tiny space before the door slammed shut, locking her in darkness.

 

“Do you think she'll walk through?”

 

“In that dark little space? Hell, yeah! I give her ten minutes, tops.”

 

“Nah, I hear this one's stubborn. I say fifteen.”

 

“Wanna bet on that?”

 

Inside, Kagome slid down the plaster wall into a sitting position, knocking over several wooden handles and cleaning utensils in the process. Cradling her sore limb, she banged her head backwards softly (one thump, two thump,) wondering why she always happened to find herself in these situations. Then again, she added on second thought, the day had been a rather uneventful one for her. She should have expected something like this when lunchtime came around without any out-of-the-ordinary hitches.

 

“Hey, she's not coming out.”

 

“Give her time, man! God, you're such a wuss!”

 

The girl's smile went unseen in her pitch-black prison. Oh, yes, she could escape at any time, but that didn't mean she planned on giving those boys a show. If they wanted to witness her “freaky powers” that badly, they were in for a long stake out.

 

Kagome leaned back with an exasperated sigh, bumping her knee hard against an empty mop bucket while listening to her captor's petty bickering outside. She knew they would get tired eventually, all bullies did, and then leave to search for an easier target. It was all a battle of wills now. Experience taught her that lesson the hard way.

 

Hours seemed to tick by. The bored teen was just beginning to feel the first inklings of claustrophobia when she heard the muted sound of school bells.

 

“Uh, lunch is over guys--- I don't think she's coming out,” the more timid of the bunch stuttered.

 

“Then go run on to class, chicken shit! She's not gonna last much longer anyway.”

 

These guys sure were persistent! Kagome felt hot, her breath starting to come out in short, labored spurts. She wanted--- no, needed more air! But she couldn't let them win. There'd be no end in sight if she did.

 

“Aw, man! We're gonna get in so much trouble!”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“God! Somebody tell me why did we bring this pussy along with us?!”

 

“HEY! What do you creeps think you're doing?!” a strong female voice interrupted.

 

Sango! An overpowering wave of relief washed over Kagome at the sound of her best friend's voice. She tried to stand up, but only managed to crash into multiple broom handles painfully for her effort.

 

“Well, well--- it's our little mutant lover!” the most obnoxious group member sneered. “So what're gonna do about it sweetie? I might be willing to give you some small favors if you suck it out of me.”

 

His lewd comment was accompanied by collective snickers.

 

“Oh, I'm sure my boyfriend would be more than happy to oblige,” she responded with a syrupy sweet tone. “I find that whole fettish thing kinda weird, though. What's so great about having your balls torn off and sucked through a black hole, anyway? Oh well, Miroku seems to really enjoy it, especially when I'm involved.”

 

“Man! That bitch's crazy!”

 

The closet captive found herself hard-pressed not to giggle as slippers slapping tile noisily gave away their mad dash. Seconds later, Kagome threw her arms up as a sudden bright light nearly blinded her.

 

“I thought something was up when you didn't show for lunch,” Sango sighed, offering her blinking friend a helping hand. Kagome accepted gratefully.

 

“Thanks, Sango-chan. Those guys were too persistent for their own good,” she lifted the sleeve of her left arm to reveal a nasty red mark where she fell. Ouch. That one was going to leave a pretty nasty bruise.

 

“Kagome-chan,” the girl in question peered sideways into Sango's concerned eyes. “Why do you let them do that to you? You should have just walked out--- you don't need to take that kind of crap from scum like them.”

 

“I know,” Kagome huffed, turning to face her friend fully with an empathetic grimace. “It's just--- it's the only way I can really fight back and still keep a clean conscience.”

 

Maroon orbs widened as the weary teen turned away from their owner.

 

“I think--- I'll just head home now. I'm very tired. Not like the teachers here take attendance for me anyway.”

 

“Kagome-chan,” Sango whispered sadly at her retreating back.

 

----------

 

Finally, Kagome ascended the final step, officially entering the shrine proper. She stopped to catch her breath. Relief filled her over reaching safe ground, only to be shadowed by the impending reality that her mother would demand a viable excuse for coming home so early from school. The teenager slapped heavy hands over bleary eyes and groaned. The day had already taken a toll and it wasn't even half past noon.

 

“Oi, Kagome! I thought you had to go to that school place all day.”

 

Fingers parted reluctantly to reveal an irate youkai: voluminous red sleeves tied back, dusty sky blue bandanna covering his ears, and apparently caught in the act of sweeping. Kagome briefly wondered how on earth her mother got the stubborn boy to cooperate, before deciding she was thoroughly too exhausted to care. Speaking of which---

 

“Inuyasha, I don't see Mama around. Is she inside?”

 

“No, she left. Said something about errands--- like I care when she comes and goes,” he groused, eyeing the teen girl scrupulously. Whatever the older Higurashi said (or did) seemed to still be in effect.

 

“Whatever,” Kagome waved aside his customary rudeness. “I wasn't feeling well so I came home from school. Tell Mama that when you see her,” she brushed past him, heading toward the house. God, both arm and head were really killing her!

 

“Tell her yourself! I'm not some messenger boy!” he fumed as she lifted her hand in a half-hearted salute, shutting the front door behind afterwards. Twitching ears seemed fit to pour steam any moment. How--- how dare she! How dare she dismiss him like that!

 

Throwing the broom down with an angry clack against stone, Inuyasha stomped after her. Damned if he wasn't going to give at least one of these women a piece of his mind! The thought of doing so with the elder brought up memories of that morning, sending a slew of icy shivers down his spine. But the supernatural youth felt right at home arguing with Kagome. He slammed open the front door, heard his target rummaging through the kitchen, and proceeded to march down the hall in typical snit fashion.

 

“Oi, wench! I wasn't done with---”

 

He stepping into the kitchen and all insults died on his tongue.

 

Kagome stood before an open freezer, loading ice cubes into an unzipped plastic bag with a spare dishtowel wrapped around the bottom. Her warm brown grew large, fearful, as she followed his amber stare to her rolled up sleeve.

 

To the vivid red mark marring the skin on her bicep.

 

She nearly panicked. What if Inuyasha told her mother? Oh, Kagome was sure the woman had some idea of the daily torment her daughter endured by now, but that didn't mean the girl wished to validate all her uncertain worries. What Mama didn't know couldn't hurt her after all.

 

“Kagome?”

 

Hastily, she pulled the loose sleeve of her t-shirt down, finished her makeshift ice pack, and turned to leave. The young mutant paused when she reached Inuyasha, raising her chin to meet his golden gaze directly. The youkai almost reeled from the sheer emotional force her eyes assaulted him with.

 

“Please,” she whispered, and in her words he heard his own eerie child-like voice. “Please don't tell Mama. I was feeling a bit sick and decided to come home early today. Nothing more. Right?”

 

“Right,” Inuyasha somehow answered around the forming lump in his throat.

 

“Thank you,” she flashed him a genuine smile before dashing upstairs with her load, leaving him alone to ruminate in the kitchen.

 

Poor Inuyasha's mind was definitely in turmoil. He hated to admit it, but seeing Kagome bruised had left him deeply unsettled. Self-defense mechanisms immediately kicked in, taking him back to that day---

 

He was running through the woods, trying to put as much distance between himself and that dreaded place, chest constricting painfully at the thought of what had just occurred.

 

Kikyou betrayed him.

 

The one person since his mother's death that had actually given a damn. She had promised to live with him, a promise which lay littered across their favorite clearing like broken glass. And, though he denied it stubbornly, that unfulfilled promise hurt more than anything else.

 

Inuyasha decided right then that he didn't need anybody. He would become the hardened youkai he always wanted to be, wild and free; never again ensnared by the weakness of human attachment. Yes, he was better off on his own.

 

But, as Inuyasha stood in a twenty-first century tile floor kitchen, he couldn't stop a single image from floating through the shoddily patched cracks on his inner walls: Kagome, facing him. Sporting the brightest smile he'd ever seen.

 

Sleeve rolled up to display a spreading red stain on her upper arm.

 

----------

 

A/N: Well that's it for chapter 8--- and no evil cliffhanger either! I plan to churn out at least a few more chaps before con season hits late spring and most of my attention gets devoted to cosplay. Next chapter shouldn't take nearly so long to post, hopefully. Thanks for reading!