InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Driven to Ascent ❯ Prologue, Part II: Healing ( Chapter 2 )

Prologue, Part II: Healing

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On the day before their departure to Hong Kong, Kagome walked out of the house. First she lit candles at her parents and Souta's shrines and meditated for a few minutes. Then she strolled along the temple grounds, pausing here and there to feel the wind blow on her face or to gaze quietly at a tree. At each stop, her mind took a snapshot with her eyes, permanently storing away the images in her memories. She would miss the temple and its tranquility and peace. It didn't matter that Miroku would take her to see more exciting and adventurous places. In Kagome's mind, the temple would always be home.

The three months since Kagome's fight had been mixed. Kagome had gone back to school with a varied state of mind. Her classmates had held her in high esteem after the fight but it was the kind of esteem reserved for a dangerous beast. She promised never to raise a fist against her classmates again, but that did nothing to improve their attitudes. It was hard seeing fear and dislike in the eyes of her classmates whenever they looked at her. Despite her fierceness against the three girls, Kagome at heart was soft and sensitive. Being ostracized by her classmates was troubling and more than once Kagome broke down crying during recess.

At some point in the months, Kagome remembered that she might not be staying here forever. She remembered that there was a chance that she would be staying with Miroku away from the people who pitied her. Once Miroku turned eighteen, she could escape and start a new life. This thought alone prevented Kagome from slipping into total depression. Whenever she felt like curling up into a ball, she remembered that Miroku would take her away in just a few months from it all. No more stares behind her back. No more whispers. No more unwanted fear. It would all go away. Just like that. Then again, it was only a chance of escape after all. It might be that she would endure this pain all her school life. But it didn't matter to Kagome because a chance was enough for her.

Maybe it was not a completely healthy way of thinking, but it helped calm and sooth Kagome's child's mind. The months flew past and suddenly Miroku was eighteen, legally recognized as an adult, all grown up. It was enough of a rush to make Kagome forget that her twelfth birthday had gone by too.

At the moment, cars containing luggage were driving towards the airport. The same cars would transport the Higurashi's and Sango tomorrow.

Kagome's wanderings led in random circles. Eventually, her feet brought her to the base of the oldest tree in the shrine grounds. The Goshinboku tree had been a part of the Higurashi home for as far as the family could remember, and perhaps even farther than that.

The wind whistled gently through the leaves. The sounds of crinkling leaves and birdsongs floated in the air. She arched her head back and gazed up at the softly swaying branches of the Goshinboku. They seemed to stretch up and beyond the limits of Kagome's sight, soaring all the way to the top of the sky.

Where does the Goshinboku end? It was a question her parents used to ask the Higurashi children from time to time, like a beloved nursery rhyme. Miroku had always answered, all the way to the sky! Souta: To the sun! Kagome would take a moment to think before answering: It never ends!

Kagome stood on her toes, hands braced against the tree trunk, and looked through the branches again. If she squinted, she could see bits of the twinkling blue sky through the endless entangling of branches and leaves.

Where does the Goshinboku end?

She stared up at the sky for a moment, then stepped back. She touched the soft tree bark for a moment and walked away. She did not look back. She'd come back.

It never ends.

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The first half of limo trip to the airport was fairly uneventful. The last half was overly eventful.

The only stop they made was at Sango's apartment. Miroku himself had gotten out of the car to ring her buzzer. Perhaps because it was so early in the morning and that he didn't find it necessary, but Miroku had neglected to wear his baseball cap disguise. He had even gone out with his hair tied back in his customary rattail.

With all his years of mobs and screaming fan girls, Kagome would have thought that Miroku knew his own neglect. Therefore she had no sympathy whatsoever when bouts of screaming suddenly echoed across the street as Sango stepped out of her apartment building. Kagome shook her head when young female heads suddenly appeared at windows, mouths formed round O's at the sight of Miroku. When fan girls and boys alike suddenly started stampeding toward them, Kagome sighed as a frantic Miroku and a confused Sango dashed into the limo, just barely making it before the fans' groping hands caught Miroku.

"Drive, drive!" Miroku yelled to the chauffeur.

The chauffeur, with many years of mob experience under his belt, obliged. Tires squeaked and they were off. Unfortunately the teenage population with driving licenses had seen Miroku and they too were off.

"Maybe if you stick your head up through the car roof and yell something at them, they'll go away," Sango suggested as they proceeded to a cat-and-mouse chase.

"Uh-uh," Kagome grunted, caught in a morning stupor. "People will just throw themselves onto the limo and get hurt. Then Miroku could get sued. Then there'd be more crowds," she pointed out, citing from experience.

"Very good Kagome," Miroku said distractedly. He was peering out of the tinted windows as girls leaned half out of car windows to blow kisses at the limo.

"Miroku, why is that girl over there slapping her butt?" Kagome asked curiously.

"I have no idea," Miroku replied hazily, eyes bugging.

Sango sat on her seat, staring at Miroku. "Wait a minute," she said. "I knew you were a celebrity, but are you that one who always fondles-"

"We're almost there, boss," the chauffeur interrupted.

"Thanks Jin," Miroku answered with a carefully straight face.

Word tended to spread quickly whenever something involved Miroku. As a result, a farewell crowd awaited them at the airport. Throngs of people were yelling and hollering all manner of farewells. Some waved signs that Sango for some reason would not let Kagome see. (Kagome felt that this was an act of extreme injustice as Sango had only known her for a few days and therefore had no right to censor signs or anything else for that matter.)

"Nooooooo," Miroku groaned, rubbing his face. "It's too early in the morning for crowds…"

A squad of police motorcycles escorted them into the airport parking lot. The crowd let out a roar as Sango stepped out of the limo, which quickly died down when they realized that Sango was not Miroku. They cheered again when Kagome stepped out, which lasted somewhat longer then Sango's cheer when they recognized her as Miroku's sister. The roar was deafening when Miroku strode out with once hand covering his eyes from the sun. The crowd surged against the police guards. Some girls even started crying.

"Don't go back to Hong Kong Miroku-chan!" a girl cried, sobbing against a police guard's arm.

"Stay here in Japan!" another yelled.

Miroku paused in the act of dashing away and faced his fans, turning slowly around so that they all had a glance at his face. He blew a kiss to them and grabbed Kagome's hand. He led his company in a dash through the crowds into the terminal.

The airport graciously let them board Miroku's private jet earlier than scheduled. As they took off into the air, there was once last cry of anguish and a chanting of "We love Miroku!" followed them out of Japan.

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Miroku lived in a two-story, wall-to-wall carpeted penthouse containing four bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, a vast living room in which a nice-looking 48-inch TV sat at the far end complete with a VCR, DVD player, TiVo, and whatever video game software were most recent. The white-tiled kitchen contained a somewhat large refrigerator packed with food exploding to the brim. Here and there were little additional rooms that seemed to have no purpose but looked good and stylish anyway.

"I didn't live here before when I was alone. Don't know what I would have done with all this space," Miroku remarked as he gave Kagome and Sango a tour. "My agency generously bought this flat for me when I told them I was getting new housemates."

It was a bit of change for Kagome, who grew up in the simple, Spartan quality of the shrine grounds, and she never really became used to the sophisticated furnishings of the penthouse. She knew that before, Miroku had lived in a flat similar to this one, if a bit smaller, and it was a wonder that Miroku ever bothered coming home when he had a place so glamorous.

Miroku was usually away for the majority of the day but he always came back in time for dinner. Kagome was used to seeing Miroku much less often so a meal everyday with her brother was a huge improvement. He always came back with an apologetic look on his face and tried to make up for his absence as much as possible whenever he could.

Adjusting to Sango's presence was admittedly a bit of a pain, possibly because of her role in Kagome life. Kagome had never really been a serious scholar and ever since the Accident, she had given up on paying attention in school altogether. The prospect of beginning an education in which all her teacher's attention would be solely devoted to Kagome and Kagome alone made her a little bitter and apprehensive. Add to the list that this teacher would also serve as a live-in babysitter made education seem all the more annoying.

Kagome did not like to admit it but the fact that Sango was a genius and already a college graduate at age eighteen made her a little nervous as well.

One of the depressing aspects of Kagome's new education system was that there was nothing else to do during the day but be educated. Kagome was wholly terrified of venturing outside the apartment. She knew nothing of Cantonese (the only foreign language she had studied in school was English, but that didn't necessarily count. Kagome had only put a half-hearted effort into it and only wanted to learn it so that she could understand her Western cds) and she feared any sort of communication with the people of Hong Kong.

Unfortunately, Sango acknowledged this fear and wanted to remedy it. In the morning, as soon as Kagome was done eating breakfast, Sango would whisk Kagome out the door down to the street markets. As they bought food for the day's lunch, she would force Kagome to speak small phrases and pleasantries to the market employees, amid laughing and snickers at her accent. It was her way of curing the fear and helping Kagome practice using Cantonese.

Kagome would have been perfectly satisfied with lazing on the couch in front of the TV, but Sango had a strange way of dancing her away from the TV.

"All right, Kagome, let's go over these new words," Sango said, plopping down onto the couch next to her, a sheet of Chinese words in her hand.

Kagome did not refuse but she glared at the sheet anyway. Learning Cantonese was a struggle but it stood to reason that she should concentrate on this subject the most. All the different accents and pronunciations made her head whirl and she had to relearn every kanji character she knew and more.

"Come on now," Sango said encouragingly. "I know it's tedious but it'll pay off in the end."

And it did. By the end of the week, Kagome had gotten over her fears and knew enough Cantonese to ask for directions without anyone laughing at her accent. Surprisingly, after she had tackled the initial difficulty of mastering the subtle nuances of Cantonese, Kagome began to learn Cantonese at a strangely rapid pace. After a month of studying, Kagome picked enough Cantonese to venture outside into Hong Kong alone without fear. It helped that Sango was aware of Kagome's struggles. To make Cantonese learning easier, Sango devoted one day a week solely to watching movies. Often times, they watched Miroku's Hong Kong-based movies (although Sango was extremely selective about it. She seemed to harbor a deep mistrust of his movies' content for some odd reason).

Kagome did not notice her quick progress until she surprised herself and shocked Sango by swearing back at an irritable housewife in the market. Even Kagome had not known that that particular expletive had been in her personal vocabulary.

Kagome could not help but like Sango. When she was not in tutor-mode, Sango had the personality of the World's Best Sister Figure. She had a wide, open smile that practically gave off waves of trust and friendliness. At first, Kagome was slightly mistrustful of this Big Sister mood. But after a while, she found, to her surprise, that she genuinely enjoyed Sango's company (except the tutoring sessions, those were horrible and downright oppressive. Understanding as she was, Sango was a slave driver when it came to studies).

"So, you know how to speak Cantonese now, huh?" Miroku asked Kagome over dinner one night.

"I do, goh goh," Kagome answered cheerfully, addressing her older brother in Cantonese. "Well, I'm not completely fluent yet though."

"I'm sure you will be with Sango teaching you," Miroku said, nodding in compliment to Sango. "What'd you do today then?" Miroku wondered, turning to address Sango.

"Math!" Kagome blurted out, grabbing the chance to exhibit her keen, nonexistent love of mathematics in hopes of lessoning the work in that subject. This was already known; unfortunately her outburst was ignored.

"Oh nothing much," Sango answered demurely. "Although I think you should know, we were mobbed today outside the theatre."

"And did you get away from the mob?" Miroku asked serenely.

"Just barely!" Sango exclaimed. There was an edge to her voice. "It was quite dangerous you know. Those people are maniacs! They were grabbing at Kagome-"

"Yeah, I don't know how we would have got away if Sango wasn't wearing boots," Kagome remarked.

Both eighteen-year olds swiveled around to stare at Kagome, one in a blushing state and the other in amused confusion.

"What do boots have to do with mobs, Kagome?" Miroku asked, mouth twitching in repressed laughter.

"This guy grabbed my sleeve and started pulling at it and Sango kicked him hard in the… the you-know-where, and he let go," Kagome said cheerfully. "Sango's boots have silver plate at the toe so the guy started crying. I don't think he would've cried if Sango kicked him with sandals," she remarked thoughtfully.

"I think he was crying because of the area she assaulted him in," Miroku said solemnly, raising an eyebrow in Sango's direction.

"Maybe," Kagome contemplated. "The guy called Sango a 'bat pau,' what does that mean?"

Miroku decided not to tell Kagome that the grabber had called Sango the equivalent of a bitch and looked back to Sango with an amused smile on his face.

Still blushing, Sango stuttered, "Miroku-san, I assure you, I…I don't always have…er…violent tendencies very much…"

Miroku flapped his chopsticks at her. "Don't worry about it. I confess, I'd forgotten to think about Kagome's personal security here. By all means, when it comes to Kagome's safety, use as many violent tendencies as you like."

Sango stared at Miroku but he dropped that subject.

"I'm sorry I've been neglecting you this past month," Miroku apologized dejectedly. "I wanted to spend more time with you but the timing's been horrible. I had to finish filming and then I had to work on the soundtrack almost right away."

"Don't worry about it," Kagome said.

"No, I've been horrible. I mean I became your legal guardian for a reason and I hardly see you at all."

Miroku folded his hands on the table expectantly. "How would you both like to come to my recording session tomorrow?"

Kagome lifted her head in gleeful anticipation. "Ooh, really?"

"Yes, really." Miroku cocked his head to the side. "Unless you'd like a vacation, Sango-san? A day to yourself? You haven't taken a day off ever since you started working for us." Miroku hummed to himself in thought. "Very insensitive of me, shameful actually. I probably never gave you a chance to complain, did I?"

Sango looked like she was going to protest but then she paused.

"Oh, I see, Higurashi-san," she said, enlightened. "Of course, I see. You've been so busy and I'm sure you want to spend time with Kagome alone."

"Er…"

"Yes, I shouldn't accompany you after all." Sango smiled. "All right. I'll take that day off."

"Very good," Miroku confirmed with a nod.

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In the morning, much to her chagrin, Miroku shook Kagome awake up early at 6:30. When she feebly tried to pull the covers over her head, he only smiled and effortlessly threw them off the bed.

"Time to get up!" he said cheerfully. "We're going to be late! Let's go!"

Kagome groaned and squinted up at him blearily. "But it's so early," she moaned.

"Well we do have to get to the studio by 7:15, which gives you-" he checked his watch, "-about twenty minutes to make yourself decent if we want to leave by 6:50."

Twenty minutes later, Miroku half-dragged and half- led a sleepy Kagome down to the lobby where they met his driver and bundled into the car. When they arrived at the studio, Kagome was handed a pastry.

"Breakfast," said Miroku, smiling merrily.

He then rushed Kagome into the building, and whizzed her past various staff members and employees of the company. It seemed to be seconds later that Miroku settled her down on a chair and loudly introduced his sister to the crew members around them. The employees paused in their duties to greet "Nay ho!" before turning back again. Miroku shoved a pair of headphones around her neck and then dashed off to talk to various people, leaving Kagome to stare blearily at her pastry.

Blink blink.

After a moment, Kagome remembered what to do with the pastry. Chewing on a bite, she looked around, observing as Miroku smiled sheepishly as a woman berated him for being late with loud Cantonese.

"It was only ten minutes, Jun," he said in defense.

"Do you know how expensive each minute in here is? Did you oversleep or something?" Jun scolded.

"No, we stopped by a pastry shop and then someone recognized me," Miroku said, shrugging.

Kagome frowned. She did not particularly remember seeing one of Miroku's fans, but then she did not quite remember stopping by a pastry shop either.

Jun threw her hands up, muttering. Miroku smirked and winked at Kagome.

"She's the producer, the boss lady," Miroku said, making the effort to raise his voice ever so slightly.

"Boss lady makes me sound so old," Jun said, scowling ill naturedly at Miroku. But she smiled amiably at Kagome.

"Kagome mou-mou," she said, addressing Kagome as a little sister. "You can just call me Jun jeh-jeh."

"More like Jun-yee," Miroku sniped playfully. "Ow!"

Kagome's eyes widened as Jun swiped her brother on the head again and widened a little more as Miroku laughed good-naturedly. Getting up in the morning really sucked.

"Um," she said. "Why do I have to call you Big sister? Or Aunt?" she added in confusion.

Miroku waved a hand. "It's a Chinese courtesy," he explained. "Girls address others older than them as Big Sister or Brother and middle-aged people as Aunt or Uncle."

"I am not middle-aged! I'm still young!" Jun snapped. This time, Kagome giggled when she cuffed him on the head.

Kagome had only just mentally congratulated herself for not being laughed at for her accent when Jun abruptly turned to the room and clapped her hands for attention.

"All right! Miroku's here! Let's get started!" she announced.

Kagome observed as the previously chaotic and wild studio suddenly became organized and ready to work. The crewmembers sat in their positions. Miroku gave Kagome a little wave and went behind a glass wall with a microphone set up in the middle.

"Kagome."

She looked up as Jun motioned her to move her chair closer to the glass wall to have a better view.

"I see Miroku already gave you headphones, very good," Jun observed. "Put them on," she commanded.

Once Kagome (and everyone else in the recording studio) snapped the headphones securely on her head, Jun nodded to the engineer at the controls.

"Alright, this is take one," she said into a microphone at the controls table as she swiveled up next to the engineer. "Miroku, can you hear yourself?"

"Just fine," Kagome heard Miroku reply through her headphones.

"Good. Now start…now."

Miroku nodded and suddenly Kagome heard a piano playing.

She looked up and blinked hard, willing herself to wake up. Inside the padded recording room, Miroku sat at a black, grand piano. The sight caused Kagome a small stir of memory. Miroku had begun studying the piano at age ten, but Kagome had never been certain if he continued to play after his celebrity comeback. She wondered how he found the time to practice in his busy schedule.

After the first few bars of piano playing, Miroku leaned slightly forward and crooned into the mike. Surprisingly, the lyrics were in Japanese. And they were the cheesiest lyrics Kagome had ever heard.

Her disgust must have shown on her face as she fervently prayed that no one would ever sing those lyrics to her when there was a small tap on her shoulder.

She turned to see Jun grinning at her.

"We're going to record three versions of this song," Jun explained. "Cantonese, for the Canton and Hong Kong release," she said, counting on her fingers. "Mandarin, for Mainland China and Taiwan release, and Japanese, for the obvious country. I didn't write the lyrics," she added. "Terrible, aren't they? We're recording the ending theme for Miroku's latest soap opera, you see."

Kagome agreed passionately and expressed her disgust at Miroku wasting his vocal talents on such things like this.

Jun opened her mouth to reply and then snapped her head to glare at Miroku.

"No, no, you can't slow down in this part, you're professing your love, not dying," she snapped. "Stop the recording! We're starting over! Alright, take two!"

There was a chorus of moans and they began again.

Kagome frowned in confusion. "What was wrong with it?" she asked. "It didn't sound that bad."

"Kagome dear, that was only the first recording. We're going to go through a lot of tries before it's perfect…Miroku, you're breathing louder than you're singing. What are you doing, drowning? Again! Take three!"

At take seven, Jun was silent, allowing Miroku to actually finish playing the song. She switched off the recording and leaned back in her chair, fingering her chin thoughtfully. The room held their breath…

"It was good…" she said with a touch of uncertainty and doubt. The room breathed.

"But your piano playing just drowns you out," Jun added.

She barely flinched at the chorus of loud complaints.

"Well that's what we have this stuff for," Jun replied, waving a hand out the control table. "Why are you all moaning? We'll just up the vocals and downplay the piano. That's your job, Mr. Mixer." She pointedly looked at the man next to her, who flinched. "Okay, Cantonese now. Take one."

Miroku seemed to have a better idea of what Jun expected in the song. It only took three takes to get it right.

"Miroku is wonderfully attuned to sound," Jun commented to Kagome as they recorded the Mandarin vocals. "Very sensitive ears he has."

Kagome beamed with pride at her compliments to Miroku. "Yeah, my brother is really talented," she agreed.

"Yes, there is talent. I only wish he'd take it more seriously," Jun muttered. "He picks up foreign languages so easily too. It took me years of studying in school to learn Mandarin and he's already fluent after a few months." She looked at Kagome. "How long did it take for you to become fluent in Cantonese?"

Kagome shrugged. "About a month. But I'm not completely fluent yet."

"Really? Your accent is very good. Guess you must be very- MIROKU HOW DARE YOU CHANGE THE LYRICS THAT WAY!"

Kagome's head whipped up in time to catch Miroku's twinkling smirk and wink. Around her, the crew muttered things like, "Obscene, just obscene," and "We're not recording a sex tape for god's sake."

Kagome's shouts of, "What? What? What did he say?" were deliberately ignored.

"Do you want to die! You can't just sing something like that!" Jun roared into the microphone. "This is a family drama! We'll have little children listening to this! Begin again!"

Kagome took off her headphones, stood up and walked around prodding people, but it was soon made clear that no one was going to tell her what Miroku sang. Pouting, she sat back down on her chair and felt sorry for herself for not knowing Mandarin.

It had taken an unbelievably long time to record just one song (in three different languages yes, but still). Kagome began to get a little bored and started spinning around in her chair and got herself tangled in the headphone wires as a result. As she untied herself, Kagome realized two things.

First, that she had always taken Miroku's fame for granted. Kagome knew that Miroku was talented, it was a given really. She could not picture her brother without adding "perfect" to the image. But she had never truly appreciated Miroku's abilities. Miroku's current performance was slightly downplayed by the cheesy lyrics, but Kagome could still recognize hints and signs of genius. She wondered why this genius only manifested in hints. It seemed obvious to Kagome that Miroku was holding back something great and giant. In other words, Miroku was not putting in the effort to turn this cheesy love song into something meaningful, like he didn't care about holding back. Kagome was bothered and annoyed by this.

But then again, this was only just a cheesy love song. Now that she thought of it, it wasn't really worth putting effort into. Those lyrics…

Kagome felt a little better and relaxed.

Second, Miroku's excellent sensitivity to sound was hereditary. Both of the Higurashi parents were not professional musicians but they were talented nevertheless, and they both loved music as more than just a hobby. Papa played piano and often sang with an amateur singing group comprised of his old college friends. Mama studied music in college but never pursued a musical career, choosing to stay with her children instead. Mama seemed to know how to play any instrument in the world, except, ironically, piano. Often times, Mama and Papa would provide an evening's entertainment with a musical duet: Mama playing an instrument of her choice and Papa accompanying her on the piano and joining in with a rich, booming base voice.

And at this realization, Kagome's high spirits plummeted and died.

Kagome's chair now faced the recording room. She put her feet onto the chair and hugged her knees, gaze staring at Miroku as he sang. She could feel her sight beginning to wax over as a film of wetness glazed over her eyes.

Papa… Mama…

It was a tenor version of Papa's voice singing through Kagome's headphones. The same tonality and the same effortless brilliance in his voice, only difference being in the higher pitches and notes. The same facial expressions Papa made and the same phrasing and accents he made on certain notes and the same way Papa closed his eyes as he took a quick breath. If she pictured Papa's face on the youth playing piano, there would have been little difference between the two as far as body movement was concerned.

Kagome's gaze lowered to the keyboard. Papa's fingers were thick and plump, not the ideal fingers of a pianist. Ironically, Mama's fingers were perfect for piano playing: long, slender, and flexible. Miroku's fingers were almost identical to Mama's. He played in the way that Mama would have if she had ever learned how to play piano. There was the same rhythmic swaying as the melody rose and fell and the calm, steady style of playing with slight variations and inconsistencies of the beat.

As she continued to watch Miroku, Kagome pondered how Souta would have performed if he were still alive. He had just begun learning the tenor sax. He had not advanced very much in three months so it was hard to tell how much he liked it. Had liked. Would he have enjoyed making music as much as the rest of his family? Which of Papa and Mama's musical traits would he have inherited? Would his voice be base or tenor? Or a combination of both, baritone? What if…

Kagome took a trembling breath. She woodenly took off her headphones and swiveled around so that her back faced that glass wall. Hastily, she wiped away stray tears before anyone would notice.

Her thoughts drifted back to the first realization. Why was Miroku holding back? Did not he know that Papa and Mama were singing through him? It was as if he repressed their parents by keeping back the true extent of his talent.

For the first time in her life, Kagome felt disappointed in Miroku.

She quickly pushed this foreign, repulsive emotion out of her mind and swiveled back around in her chair to face the glass wall.

.

It was a sweltering Hong Kong night. It was the kind of heat that hugged your body in a moist, sweaty embrace and floated all around in the air. Kagome had woken late at night drenched in sweat and had gone down to the kitchen for something cold to drink.

As she came back from the kitchen and started to close her bedroom door, Kagome heard a sound. Then there were footsteps.

It was dark but Kagome's eyes had already. She nervously inched her door closed, leaving a width of a few inches to peek out of, clutching her cup tightly. Were they burglars? How did they get in? How come she did not see them go up the stairs?

There were two shapes walking along the second floor corridor. They walked from opposite sides toward each other. It was too dark for Kagome to see who these two were but…

Kagome's room was situated at the end of the second floor corridor. If she stood in her doorway she could see straight down the corridor. Sango's room was at the opposite side of the corridor and Miroku's was in the middle.

The two figures had each appeared out of Sango and Miroku's room. Kagome relaxed when she realized that they were not burglars.

Both did not appear to notice each other. Thus, neither detoured from their path nor could they avoid the collision.

Sango squealed in a high-pitched feminine voice. Miroku's figure paused in surprise and the dark shadow of his arm waved at the air around him, feeling for the source of the squeal. Kagome almost giggled when Miroku's hand disappeared into the black space of the lower mid-region of Sango's silhouette. Sango stiffened.

Kagome thought, oops, to herself and waited for Miroku to move his hand away from Sango's nether regions.

Strangely, Miroku did not move his hand. Well, he was moving it, just not away from Sango's bottom.

Wait a minute.

If Kagome was not mistaken (and in the darkness, she really hoped she was), Miroku was groping Sango's butt.

Sango screamed. A black, silhouetted arm rose up. There was a smack. A head whipped back.

Pause.

Somebody reached into a room and flicked on the light.

Kagome blinked, blinded by the light, as Sango and Miroku stared at each other.

Sango reacted first.

"Higurashi-san!"

"Ah, Eiri-san."

Sango's back was rigid with anger and her fists clenched.

"What do you think you're playing at, Higurashi-san?" Sango hissed.

"Oh, let me ex-"

"You are my employer!"

"Yes but-"

"This is sexual harassment."

"Please listen-"

"I'll have you know that I can sue you for sexual harassment! It is perfectly within rights--"

"Sango-san." Miroku's was soft but there was something that made Sango pause.

"Sango, I sincerely apologize for my inappropriate behavior. It was entirely accidental on my part and no doubt extremely shocking to you," Miroku said quietly.

"To say the least," Sango mumbled.

"I confess, it's a bit of a habit for my hand to…wander, you could say. You see, before Kagome became my ward, I… didn't always live alone. Sometimes, my…girlfriend you could say would spend the night and I would indulge in such behavior that I forced upon you tonight.

"I admit, I'm not in a very clear state of mind. So you see when I heard you I automatically identified you as a girl and then I acted out of habit. I assure you, it wouldn't have happened if it weren't so dark."

Miroku bowed his head in apology. "I am very sorry for my bad habits. But of course, you are entirely within your rights to sue me and resign, to say the least. If you want to, you may do so."

"I'm…" Sango began.

"But I do hope that you will not," Miroku added. "Sango-san…"

There was shuffling. Kagome squinted and saw that Miroku had fallen to his knees and grabbed a startled Sango's hands.

"If it were only me at stake I wouldn't care if you sued me three times over. But Kagome… You've been so good to Kagome. I brought her away from Japan so to help her heal but I'm never here when she needs me. Your presence has such a good effect on her and she seems so much happier... Please, Eiri, for Kagome's sake, do not quit your job. If you despise me now I understand but… don't let tonight change things between you and my sister! She needs you."

Miroku's back faced Kagome so she could not see his face. But she could see Sango's stunned expression, eyes widened, mouth gapping slightly. Slowly, Sango set her mouth and looked down at Miroku with an unreadable expression.

"If you hadn't interrupted me," Sango said coldly, "you would have known that, although it's tempting, I was never going to charge you with sexual harassment."

Miroku's head sharply tilted up.

"I can't leave Kagome," Sango continued. "I put a lot of effort in gaining her trust and I can't just throw it away now."

Miroku's back visibly relaxed. "So we can just forget about this?" he asked.

"I suppose, as long as this never happens again," Sango said, sighing. She politely helped Miroku back to his feet and gently disentangled her hands from his. She was about to turn back but stopped.

"You're wrong about one thing, Higurashi-san," she said. "Kagome… I don't know what she was like before in Japan, maybe the way she is now is an improvement but… Kagome isn't as happy as you think. Whatever sadness you wanted to take her away from… it hasn't gone completely away yet."

"What do you mean?" Miroku asked.

"I am in her company much more often than you are. You don't think I notice these things?"

Sango yawned. "I was just going down to get something to drink but I don't think I'm very thirsty anymore." With a nod and mumbled "Good night Higurashi-san," Sango turned around and walked back into her room.

Miroku leaned an arm on the wall and stood there for a moment. He turned his head to look over his shoulder.

Kagome quickly shut the door before he caught sight of her. She leaned against her door and took a few breaths.

As she climbed back onto her bed and tossed the damp covers onto the floor, Kagome replayed the overheard conversation and closed her eyes in shock.

Kagome's adolescent mind recoiled from the perversion in her brother. What was Miroku doing, groping Sango like that? And he said it was from habit. Habit? That meant Miroku probably groped girls on a regular basis. But this was Miroku, her big brother, her perfect big brother. Miroku was not one of those perverted, gross people…

It had occurred to Kagome before that there were things about Miroku's celebrity life that he kept from her. She had never questioned it and it was easy to forget that there might be things that could shatter her perfect image of Miroku. But lately Kagome had begun to notice small dents and scratched in that image.

This latest weakness was a huge cut in the image, a slash from the sword of perverted conduct.

And what was Sango talking about?

"I put a lot of effort in gaining her trust and I can't just throw it away now."

That was ridiculous. Kagome had trusted Sango ever since the interview. She knew that someone who could stand up to Miroku's rabid fans was the perfect person to stay and live with them. Her trust deepened as Sango settled into her life. Sango was like a sister to Kagome.

Didn't Sango know that? Didn't she know that Kagome would accept her no matter how much effort she put into gaining trust? Why did Sango doubt this?

But still, Sango had not known Kagome for that long. What right did she have to judge her happiness?

Kagome was perfectly happy and content. She had gotten what she desired. She was living with Miroku, someone who understood her. She was away from her infuriating classmates. She had a wonderful tutor and plenty of things to distract her from the deaths…

The deaths…

In the living room, on the decorative mantle piece, there was a photo of Papa, Mama, and Souta. Sometimes, Kagome would find her gaze drawn to that picture. She would observe this picture, noting the smiles of the dead ones, the joyful expressions in their eyes. Kagome could stare for long stretches of time at this picture before something called for her attention.

Was it this staring that caused Sango to believe that she was still grieving? Well, of course Kagome was grieving, and she would never stop. But Kagome had already recovered from the intense pain and loss. She had, she really had. She did not even cry anymore.

The tears on her cheeks contradicted this thought. Kagome buried her face into the pillow. No, she did cry sometimes. Late at night when Sango and Miroku had gone to bed, Kagome would stay up and sob. She never wanted to cry. The tears always just came on their own.

So many images began to crack. Miroku, tears, life…

Kagome forcefully pushed it away and fell asleep.

.

"I have a surprise for you Kagome," Miroku said to his sister, some days later, as they ate dinner.

Kagome looked up expectantly. "What is it?" she asked in excitement.

Miroku smiled mischievously. He crooked a beckoning finger. "It's in the piano room," he said, standing up.

The piano room was located in a corner of the first floor. It was a plain and possibly boring looking room as compared to the glamour of the rest of the penthouse with its plain white walls and nondescript rug. But the beauty of the room lay in its contents. Overhead studio lights created a glowing kind of aura around the black, grand piano. In the piano room, Miroku kept up his performing skills, often singing as he practiced playing his latest song. Often, he had Kagome play out the melody of a new song he had to learn for the next recording. Sango hardly ever came into the piano room. It was Miroku and Kagome's special place.

Kagome's anticipation grew at Miroku's mention of the piano room. She eagerly followed him and looked around wildly for the surprise. When she found it, she stopped short.

On the piano lid lay a curved, rectangular instrument case. Kagome recognized it immediately and turned to Miroku in confusion. Miroku only nudged his chin toward it.

Taking a shaking breath, Kagome approached the piano apprehensively. Maybe her eyes were just playing tricks on her mind. It could not be what she thought it was. Miroku would not do that to her… By the time Kagome reached it, she was almost convinced that she had never seen the instrument case in her life. She slowly undid the strapping of the case and, with trembling fingers, she opened it.

Inside lay a glossy wooden instrument. The viola was beautiful. It shimmered brightly as the overhead lights shone upon the surface. Scarcely able to believe it, Kagome hesitantly ran a finger along the black fingerboard, gently plucking the strings. There was a bow placed along the lid and a cake of rosin in a small compartment to the side. Kagome's finger ran across the chin rest and traced the engraved name. Higurashi…

Kagome snatched her finger away and sharply closed the lid. She collapsed, trembling hands gripping the edge of the piano.

"How could you," she whispered. "Miroku how could you?"

She could not see Miroku's reaction but she felt him come up beside her.

"How could you," Kagome repeated. "This is Mama's viola!"

"You haven't touched a viola for almost a year," Miroku commented. "I thought it was about time you restarted your viola lessons."

Kagome looked up at him with wide, blurry eyes.

"Kagome," Miroku said kindly. "I've already asked the principal violist in the Hong Kong Symphony to give you lessons. What will I tell her after she generously agreed to teach you in her free time? Kagome," he said, giving her a little shake, "can't you at least give it a try? You used to love playing viola."

"This is Mama's viola," she said again.

"She gave it to you a few weeks before she died. It was little big for you then but you've grown a little bit so you should be able to handle a full size viola now," Miroku continued calmly.

"Miroku listen to me!" Kagome shouted. She shoved away the viola case across the piano lid. "This is Mama's, not mine! And I don't want to learn the viola."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to, do you?"

"No," Kagome screamed.

Miroku's face was uncharacteristically serious and grim.

"Kagome-chan, you shouldn't let Mama's death stop you from making music," he said to her.

Kagome's chin began to wobble as tears spilled from her eyes and mucus built up and leaked from her nostrils.

"Nothing's stopping me," she said stubbornly. "I just don't want to anymore."

"Are you afraid?" Miroku asked. "Do you think Mama's ghost will appear when you start playing her viola? It's not even Mama's viola anymore. It's yours. She passed it down to you."

"But Mama's never going to hear me play," Kagome screeched. "She's gone. I can't play her viola without being reminded about…about the…"

Miroku placed an arm tightly around his sister's shoulders and looked her full in the face.

"Look, Kagome-chan. Mama would have wanted you to play on her viola. She's always wanted you to. Don't you remember? She always urged you to grow up so that your arms would be long enough to play it.

"You can't just quit learning forever after playing viola for six years. Mama gave you a talent. Do you think she would want you to throw it away? And how do you think she'd feel if she found out you wouldn't play because of her?"

"Mama has nothing to do with that," Kagome insisted. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Nothing," she repeated.

Miroku reached across the piano and pulled back the viola case.

"You see this, Kagome? Mama loved playing the viola. She played out her soul when she performed. I think some of her soul is still in the viola. Don't you want to bring out some of it? I think that when you learn to play again, you can let out some of her soul. It'll be like Mama's back here again with us."

Through her tear-stained eyes, Kagome glowered at Miroku.

"You're so…stupid," Kagome screamed. "Mama's gone. They're all gone. She's never coming back!"

She tried to break out of Miroku's grasp but he kept a firm hold. He let her sob against his shirtfront.

It was just too much. Everything in Kagome's world was breaking down into pieces. Miroku was becoming a brother that she did not recognize, someone she never thought he was capable of coming, someone imperfect. Kagome could accept this. It was unfair of her to not let Miroku have some faults. But she did not know if she could ever forgive him for trying to bring back Mama like this.

Miroku gripped Kagome's shoulders and gently pushed her face from his shirt so that he could look her in the face and bent down. Even on his knees his face almost at a height with Kagome's.

"I know it's hard to live with the fact that they're dead. Mama, Papa, Souta… remember our conversation back then? When we first talked of you living with me? Do you remember the reason why Grandpa let you come?"

Kagome nodded tearfully.

"Tell me."

"Because I was sad…" Kagome drifted off. What had she been? "Sad" didn't seem like the right word. It didn't describe what she was like right after the deaths.

"We thought that a change would help you overcome your sadness. Maybe I could help you in ways that Grandpa couldn't. But," he took a tissue and began to wipe her face, "it doesn't look like I helped very much, did I?

"I feel terrible about it," Miroku muttered, holding the tissue to her nose, dabbing away the mucus. "And guilty, yes, extremely guilty. I didn't try very hard. I hardly see you… I was used to only being responsible for myself. I tried to put you before work but it wasn't enough and I wasn't strong enough to fight for it.

"I failed you as a brother and I know it. I don't know what else to do. I thought that bring the viola back from Japan might help you with your grief but it's not and I've failed again. Will you try at least? For me? For Mama?"

He looked so desperate and tired, immensely tired. Kagome could see the way his eye lids drooped in distress just slightly beneath their normal level of liveliness. Desperation did not look right on Miroku. It was alien, wrong, and unnatural.

It was her fault.

"I'll…' she croaked. Her throat felt dry and sore from shouting but she tried again. "Maybe…try lessons…a few first."

.

During the month of October, Miroku's filming schedule brought him back to Tokyo. His agents raised eyebrows in surprise when he arrived at the airport accompanied by his sister and her tutor, but they wisely decided not to question his companions.

Kagome looked at this return to Japan with mixed feelings. She was eager to see Grandpa again. They had not gone to visit him during the three months and Kagome found that she had missed his presence. But on the other hand, she was going back to a place of many dark memories. And it was almost a full year after Papa, Mama, and Souta had died.

Miroku and Kagome agreed to perform a small recital on the anniversary of the Accident. When the day arrived, they ushered their small audience of two into the Music Room. Inside, Sango and Grandpa sat beside a small altar that Kagome and Miroku had set up earlier. The picture of Papa, Mama, and Souta sat behind three candles.

Kagome nodded to Miroku and they both approached the altar. Miroku struck a match. He shifted his grip so that Kagome could hold the match as well. Together, they lit the three candles. Kagome blew out the match.

Miroku took up his place at the piano and nodded for Kagome to speak.

Kagome nodded back and turned to address her audience.

"I've been working with sensei for just a little over two months, but she wants me to perform at her student recital. She said I'd be the only violist there because most of her students play violin."

She watched her audience nervously. Grandpa looked nothing short of proud and Sango had a small smile on her face. Her gaze turned to other three members of the audience.

Taking a breath, she continued, "I'll be playing this piece for the recital, so this is kind of like a rehearsal for me. You may notice, Miroku is using the music score but I'm not. This will be the first time I perform this memorized. Sorry if I make mistakes," she added.

Kagome bowed to the audience and took her viola, placing it under her chin. She nodded to Miroku to start.

Miroku smiled in reply and raised his hands. He brought them down with a sprightly introduction, his fingers lively and light upon the twinkling keys of the piano.

Kagome tapped her feet to the rhythm and patiently waited for her entrance. When she heard the vivacious and animated melody sway and lapse into a quiet and lulling lullaby, Kagome brought up the bow to her viola and began.

The first note was a long half note played with a wavering vibrato that quickened and frenzied as her bow moved. And then a succession of vibrating notes up to the G-string and then an arpeggio sequence back to the C-string. Kagome closed her eyes at this point as she played, trusting her fingers to know what they were doing.

"The viola is probably the sexiest of all instruments."

The corner of Kagome's mouth crinkled up at this thought. Mama had a soft spot for the viola and took every opportunity to tout its brilliance to Kagome when she had started taking lessons at age six. Mama had particularly sensual opinions.

Kagome's mind jumped back a little bit further into the past.

"I want you to learn a string instrument. But which one?"

Mama and Kagome stood in front of the piano, lid closed. Two instrument cases lay open before them. One viola and one violin. They had already been tuned and their shoulder rests attached. Their accompanying bows rested beside them, already tightened, ready to perform.

"Hm…"

Mama picked up the violin and plucked the strings absently. Then she switched to the viola and did the same thing. She glanced at Kagome with a thoughtful expression.

"Listen to this." Mama plucked the C-string of the viola. It trembled and rumbled against her fingertip. The deep, low sound shivered across Kagome's face and made her giggle. "See? You can not only hear the sound, but you can feel it on your skin." Kagome nodded in agreement.

"People always describe the viola as merely a big violin," Mama said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I think it's the other way around. The viola is a viola. The violin is only a small viola. This C-string? The violin doesn't have it. Sure, the violin has an E-string and the viola doesn't, but that doesn't mean we can't play the notes on an E-string."

Kagome opened her eyes for a moment to concentrate on a trying staccato passage. Miroku had it easy: all he had to play were long, minor chords. Kagome's part was particularly difficult as the staccato was done in a combination of light, spiccato brush strokes and heavy, brusque, marcato bows. To complicate it even more, the staccato notes in question were quick, little sixteenth notes that spread all across the fingerboard, forcing Kagome into a rapid succession of shifting from first position to fourth to second… It had taken much concentration and practice to get it right. Kagome thought it was a miracle that she managed to memorize this passage.

But she was doing it. Two months of hard practice and she had gotten nearly all of her old skill back. Not all of it of course, but she was getting there. She even had the beginnings of thin, red calluses on the fingertips of her left hand.

The staccato fell back onto the C-string and here, Kagome really concentrated. Here, she had to hook all the staccatos into one long bow and it was all done in the loudest fortissimo she could possibly manage. Since it took place on the lowest string, Kagome elbow was brought up high and her wrist was bent to a steep angle. It was a very trying passage.

"The viola can give you a huge sound if you ask nicely. See how it echoes? It rolls right up your spine. See? Beauty and sophistication right there. Sexy isn't it? The viola is probably the sexiest of all instruments."

Kagome closed her eyes again. At the climax of the frantic staccatos, the yelping melody gradually entered sostinuto, slowing down bit by bit, until it started to purr in deep, tensed, vibrating whole notes.

This was the bit where Miroku began the piano solo. At the moment, all Kagome had to do was pluck out chords at the appropriate places in pizzicato.

Here she let her mind reminisce again.

"We need more violists in the world."

"Why Mama?"

"There's too many violinists of course."

Nine-year-old Kagome reframed from pointing out that Mama herself was a violinist as well as a violist. As well as many other -ists as well.

"There are too many pianists as well."

"Oh Mama…"

"What? It's true! Every child takes piano lessons at one point! It's easy to play. All you do is hit the key and you have a sound. No work at all. It's so easy it's cheating."

Mama maintained a healthy bias against the piano. It was worth wondering why she had married Papa, who was a passionate pianist.

"That's not true, dear," he defended now.

"Oh really? Well, with string instruments, you have to work to play a note. You have to tune it right, bow at the right angle, use a certain amount of force… The piano is really very overrated, you take my word for it Kagome-chan."

"Hah! String players can't play more than four notes at a time! And string players can only handle one melodic line! ONE! Pianists, on the other hand, play contradicting, complex, intertwining melodies! Violists on the other hand-"

"Pianists can't vibrate though, can they?"

Then they both burst out laughing and kissed.

There was a flourish of scales and diminished seventh chords and Miroku's solo ended at a grand finale, signaling the beginning of the recapitulation of the concerto. Kagome crept her way from the background into the melody again. Now, they both played furiously, replaying the original melody with variations and slightly more endearing dynamics.

Four-year-old Souta led Mama down into the music room, where the rest of the family gathered. They were well prepared for their arrival due to Souta's loud insistence that Mama was not to peek and that she would most certainly be delightfully surprised for what Papa, Miroku, and Kagome had in store for them.

"We're HERE!" Souta yelled as he stopped just outside the closed door. "Are you ready?"

"Just about," Papa called. Then he turned to Miroku at the piano and Kagome, who was tucking her viola underneath her chin. He mouthed, "One, two, three, four," and then they were off.

At the signal of the first few bars, Souta opened the door and ushered Mama in. She laughed out loud in delight as Miroku and Kagome started a rendition of an old, Hollywood love song. Kagome's bow quivered slightly due to immense excitement and Miroku kept missing notes as he kept looking up to see Mama's reaction. Papa leaned against the piano lid, snapping his fingers to the beat. And then he began.

"Some day," he cooed, sauntering toward Mama, arms spread wide. "When I'm awfully low, when the world is cold..."

Mama seemed to be in indecision on whether or not she should laugh or smile. She seemed to reach a compromise and settled by grinning a glowing smile and chuckling delightfully, hands clasped on Souta's shoulders.

"Lovely ... Never, ever change," Papa continued, nearing Mama. "Keep that breathless charm…" Souta dashed to the sided as Papa took Mama in his arms and began to dance her around the room. "Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you." He dipped Mama back.

"Just the way you look…" Papa nuzzled her face with his nose, "…to…night…"

Kagome and Souta simultaneously shouted, "EW!" and Miroku made a face as Papa dropped a deep kiss on Mama's lips. Luckily, Kagome and Miroku still had the sense to continue playing and they finished with a grand flourish.

Papa and Mama moved apart and looked at their observant and disgusted children. Then they turned back to each other and grinned.

"Happy Valentines Day," Papa murmured and dipped Mama back with another kiss.

Kagome kept her eyes closed. She could just picture Papa reclining back in his chair, tapping his fingers to the beat. She saw Souta sitting next to him, trying to look bored. And Mama, smiling and hands clasped in pride as her head swayed slightly with the music.

Kagome opened her eyes and at the moment before the finish of the concerto, she saw them, sitting in those exact positions before the altar. They smiled at her. And then they disappeared.

Miroku and Kagome ended brilliantly. The sound of the final notes echoed against the walls, resonating and then disappearing amid the sounds of the clapping audience. Sango and Grandpa were both standing, applauding as their hands turned red.

Kagome took the viola from her chin and looked up, panting. She had not noticed that there were tears on her cheeks and did not bother to wonder how long she had been crying. She turned to the audience and bowed deeply to them. Then she turned to Miroku and bowed to him, rising up just in time to see him return his own bow and warm smile. Kagome turned to the clapping audience again. She stared at them, hard, breathing for dear life.

A sob escaped her throat and she turned to the altar. Kagome looked at the picture and bowed once more to the other three members of the audience.

.

.

Edit: Ah, I forgot to disclaim one thing.

Song credit: "The Way You Look Tonight," written/composed by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields.

And a little author's note:

To all those violists, violinists, and pianists out there, if I somehow offended you, sorry. Mr and Mrs. Higurashi's commments were all done in parody. I've been playing piano since I was six (about ten years now) and violin since I was fourteen (two years).