InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Flowers of Yesteryear ❯ Flowers of Yesteryear ( Chapter 1 )

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.
A/N: A little one-shot idea floating around in that space between my ears where strange things lie waiting, just itching to come out. I may continue, I kind of like the idea of a reincarnation fic set in the modern era. Might be interesting… =)

FLOWERS OF YESTERYEAR

He was drawn by the heat-signature of her jyaki. It was like, and yet unlike, his own. Curiosity gnawed him, that and a wistfulness to maybe find others like him, who might know his father, or where he might be. Although the old bandit who’d taken him in said time and again it was useless looking for a man who didn’t want to be found, still Hiei wished…

The anxious thought added urgency, and he burst through the scratchy brambles and out into the clearing with more haste than sense. Panting, he stared at the nekomata in acute disappointment. This, then, was the fire-youkai he’d sensed? A stupid cat-demon?

The cat demon, creamy in color, raised black-tipped ears at him, her red eyes curious, but she made no move to attack.

“What is it, Kirara?”

Jumping back, Hiei clutched the hilt of his sword to show he wasn’t entirely defenseless, but let go in disgust when he spotted the little girl, skirt kilted up to her knees, staring at him from the shallow creek that trickled through the grassy clearing.

Her mouth fell open in a silent “O” of surprise, her eyes growing wide as she stared at him. They were a pretty brown color, like pine-bark, and so thickly lashed they resembled a bird‘s feather. Her hair, somewhat tangled, was caught in a low ponytail, her bangs tousled across her cheeks and forehead. She was pretty, if dirty, and dressed in a pink and white yukata.

Still, she was a girl, and a weak human one at that.

Making a face, Hiei brusquely turned away.

“Hey!” she shouted after him, splashes marking her passage as she clambered up over the bank. “You! Little boy! Stop!”

“I’m not a little boy,” Hiei snapped, turning around to glare at her.

“You look like a boy to me,” she argued, hands on her hips as she glared back.

“Well, then you must be stupid, because I’m not.”

Her eyes flashed at his comment. Crossing her arms, she demanded, “What are you, then? A turnip?”

“A turnip!” He couldn’t believe the gall of her. A turnip?

“I never met a talking turnip before,” she said, grinning.

“I’m not a turnip!”

“But you just said---”

“I did not!”

“Did, too! I heard you. I asked what you were, if you’re not a little boy, and you said a turnip when I said---”

“You’re stupid!” Hiei declared, growing dizzy with her logic. Girls!

“Am not,” she declared. “I’m Sango.”

“Well, I’m leaving,” he declared, turning away. Stupid girl!

“No, you’re not,” she said confidently.

Whipping back around, Hiei dropped his hand on his hilt. “What did you say?”

“You can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You shouldn’t use bad words. My daddy says so. And you can’t leave yet, you haven’t probably in…intro…intro-juiced yourself.” She was proud to get that one out.

“It’s ‘properly introduced yourself.’” Hiei spat. “Gods, you’re stupid!”

She glared at him. “I am not. And whatever it is, you haven’t done it.”

“Well, you’re short,” he retorted, stung by the validity of her argument.

“So are you,” she replied.

“I’m taller than you,” he declared.

“Not by much.”

“I’m older than you, too.”

“Not by much.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Whaddya got?”

Well, that proved---on her side---to be some lint, an ugly little rock she claimed was pretty, and a braided bit of string. Nothing of value, really, when compared to his two pennies and the marble he’d found yesterday.

“That’s stupid.”

“You think everything’s stupid.”

“Do not.”

“Do, too.”

“Do. Not.”

“How come you keep grabbing that sword? Is it real?” She peered down at it, curiosity in her dark eyes.

“Of course it is!”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Or course I---”

“My dad won’t let me train with one until next year. He says I’m still too little.”

Hiei grinned.

She glowered.

“Girls can’t use swords,” he said arrogantly, fingering the pommel.

“Why not?”

“They’re girls.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” She stuck her bottom lip out. Gods, she was annoying. Stubborn, too.

“It just does.” He sighed at her cynical look, and explained, “Boys do boy things, and girls do girl things. And swords are…”

“I bet I can catch a fish faster than you,” she suddenly interrupted, challenge in her bright brown eyes as she parked her fists on her hips. “That’s supposed to be a boy thing, but I’m the best fisher in my village. My daddy says so.”

“Hn.”

But he couldn’t pass up the challenge, not and let her win. That would just prove she was right, by default. And he was wrong. Which was unthinkable.

She produced her string, and used some hair pins to twist into hooks. He found some branches, to use as poles. She had no problem digging in the dirt after worms, carefully baiting the lines. He could respect that. In his limited experience, girls turned squeally around bugs.

Their arguing and her bossiness kept the fish away, or so he claimed. She claimed it was his splashing around like a tortoise. He didn’t like being compared to a big, dumb tortoise and pushed her right off the log and into the water. She came up, not angry and sputtering like he expected, but laughing. She had a sweet, clear laugh that rang around the little clearing, causing the birds to stop and listen, then resume their scolding as he stood there staring at her in complete bewilderment.

“Now, you look like a fish!” she said, mimicking his open-mouthed expression and crossing her eyes. Hiei snapped his mouth shut and glared.

“I‘m not a fish,” he growled.

“Well, if you’re not a fish, and you’re not a tortoise, and you’re not a turnip, then what are you?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

“I’m Hiei,” he grit out.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Hiei!” She swept him a curtsey, made awkward by the wet yukata tangling around her knees. “Help me out, would you? This water’s cold!”

Gods, she was bossy. But he found himself reluctant to leave. He told himself it was only hunger, since the nekomata took it upon herself to catch their lunch and fry it up, using the flame of her jyaki. He didn’t know a fire-demon could do that, and wondered if he might be able to master the technique.

“Her name’s Kirara,” the girl told him matter-of-factly, between bites of fried fish. She ate neatly, and silently handed over her second one when he finished his in under a minute, his hunger getting the better of him. He hadn’t had this good a meal in…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Go on, take it,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He slowly extended his hand, and stared down at the stick she laid in his palm. She curled his fingers over it with a final pat, getting up to leave. “I should be going before my dad starts to worry and comes looking for me.”

He wondered, suddenly, how that must feel, to have someone who cared enough to come looking for you. Someone who actually worried about you. He suddenly felt lonely, sitting there by himself as the nekomata nudged the little girl. He sneered.

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t have to tell anyone where I am.”

“Really?” she said, frowning. “That’s…sad.”

“No, it’s not.” He scoffed. “I’m free to do whatever I want, anytime I want.”

“There’s that, I guess.” She suddenly seemed reluctant to leave. “Uh, will you be here? Tomorrow?“

“I don’t know,” he said, importantly. “I have a lot of stuff to do.“

“Well, when you get through doing it, meet me here and maybe I can teach you how to fish.”

He sputtered.

She giggled at his anger. Then handed him the ratty string, saying he could use it to practice in the meantime. And waved as she left with her stupid cat, gaily saying she would maybe see him tomorrow.

In the end, he kept the string, which smelled like rank fish, but used it to tie the hiruseki stone around his neck.


Leaning against Kirara, soaking in the warmth of the sun dappling through the trees that waved lazily overhead, Sango sighed. She didn’t know if Hiei might come---he often didn’t, even when she had a chance to steal away into the forests alone with Kirara. Her days had grown busier, training now took up most of her time.

It had been five years since first she met the strange boy in the woods. They had both changed in that time, although he less than she. Her body had grown from the slender boyishness of childhood, small breasts budding as her womanhood came upon her two months ago. She hadn’t seen Hiei since before then, and wondered if he had grown taller, as she had, although she would never top five feet, or so her father grinned.

Sango scowled. It felt awkward now, her arms and legs too long, her armor ill-fitting. Father promised her new armor for her birthday. It couldn’t come soon enough. She had lumps and bumps where she hadn’t before, and her breasts felt squashed beneath the plate made for a boy’s slender (and flat) chest. Besides, it was high time her little brother, Kohaku, started training. Handing over their father’s first armor was more than just symbolic. It might be good for Kohaku, help him get past some of his fears and give him some of the self-confidence he so sorely needed…

Hearing a sound, Sango looked up. Then relaxed, as she spotted the dark figure half-hidden in the trees. Shielding her eyes, she smiled. “I wondered if you’d come by.”

“Hn.”

Jumping to the ground in a single, graceful leap she frankly envied, Sango watched as Hiei crossed the clearing, his feet scarcely making a sound against the short grass. He had exchanged his ragged brown cloak for something black. The scrap of white cloth at his throat emphasized the stark contrast of the white star-pattern of his bangs against the inky tangle of his hair.

He stared down at her, his red eyes startling in the tan, rugged face. Gone were the boyish curves that once softened the hard lines. His expression, always remote, was cold now, almost chilling. She felt goose bumps rise on her arms at that look, but dismissed it as foolish.

“Been awhile,” was all she said. He, of course, didn’t answer or explain. He never did. But then, his silence, which had grown over the years as his answers grew short, had never bothered her.

“It’s your turn,” she pointed out, teasing lightly, “Or do you still need me to teach you how to fish?”

Kirara wuffed in amusement at the old joke, closing her red eyes to purr against Sango’s back. Hiei didn’t answer, only stalked towards the stream. Their meetings, few as they were, had assumed a familiar routine. Sango watched him covertly from the corner of her eye as he stripped off his cloak and boots and waded into the creek to catch their lunch. The sun turned his skin a golden color, muscles rippling under the surface. Sango suddenly felt flushed, and wondered at the hungry feeling curling low inside her belly.

Maybe she was just ready for lunch.

Jumping up, she went to gather kindling for the fire. Using flint, she had a good flame going by the time he emerged from the stream with a mess of trout. Spearing them on sticks, she sat back and waited. It felt good to relax here, letting her mind wander away from the familiar worries for her little brother and how he might cope with their stern, if loving, father.

She grew conscious of his eyes on her, and looked up, questioning. He was so still, his forearms dangling on his bent knees. He hadn’t resumed his cloak, and the dappled sun touched across the wide length of his shoulders. His arms had thickened along with his shoulders, the muscles compact and clearly defined. There was more strength there than simple swordswork might account for, although he still wore his sword slung across his back. But then, he never took it off.

She found herself fascinated by his hands. Broad hands, capable hands, so different from a boy’s slenderness. Callused, as hers were, from long hours spent with a weapon in hand. She wondered what he might think of her boomerang, the one her father was insisting she learn. She could barely lift the larger Hiraikotsu, but her father assured her that she would develop the strength and muscle in time to handle it. She wondered if she might look like him one day---confident, strong, capable. Deadly.

Hiei tensed, his red eyes darting to the trees surrounding them, which had suddenly grown quiet. Too quiet. The birds had ceased their chatter, listening as well. Hiei stood up in a move so fast it took her breath away. Sango stood as well, wary and tense, wondering what he sensed to give him that angry frown.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly.

“Do you?” she asked, disappointed, even as Kirara rose to her feet, her ears swiveling as her twin tails swished. The nekomata stared at the woods. Sango placed a hand on her neck, reassured by the thick creamy fur as her other hand reached for the familiar, comforting weight of her katana.

“Well, maybe some other time,” she suggested lightly, watching him don his cloak in a swirl of black fabric. She felt oddly bereft.

“No,” he suddenly said, staring back at her, his expression firm. “There won’t ever be a next time.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded, frowning.

“Our worlds are too different,” he said, more to himself.

“That’s just an excuse,” she said flatly, in denial. Then gasped as he seemed to disappear in front of her, only to reappear right in front of her, so close they were almost touching. And suddenly were touching, as his hands came up to cradle her face between them. He stared down at her, his red eyes only an inch or two above her own. Not a tall man, but still taller than her.

“Hiei?” she asked uncertainly.

Half-closing his eyes, Hiei leaned down and kissed her. His lips were soft against hers, soft and exploring. Finally stepping back, he stared into her wide brown eyes, and then drew away, pulling something from his pocket.

“It always reminded me of you,” he explained huskily, curling her fingers around a small white flower. Sango stared down at it, frowning. A star-flower?

“Goodbye,” he said, abruptly turning away.

She never saw him again.


Opening an old trunk, Sango stopped for a moment, seeing the small flower cradled in an old yukata’s folds. Her hand, wrinkled now, shook slightly as she touched the small gift in wonder. Cupping the tiny flower inside her calloused palm, her eyes were awash with memories.

“Grandma?”

Smiling, she put the flower back and closed the lid. That flower belonged to a young girl in an innocent time. Many years had passed since then, much loss and bitterness and joy and fulfillment. Much life has passed since then---a life made with her Houshi-sama, with her little ones, and their little ones. But still she remembered, would always remember, the ghost of a star-flower’s fragrance, long summer days, fish cooking over a fire, a red-eyed stare and a young girl’s first kiss.

She wondered if he would, too.

“Obaa-chan?”

“Coming,” she said, getting stiffly to her feet and leaving the room.


He did remember, though he also remembered how short a human’s life was, when compared to a demon’s. How even the borders between worlds could shift, even time lapsing, so that only a century passed in one world while five passed in another. And when next he came to Human World, how even her bones must be dust by now as he stared at the world of metal and machines the Living World had become.

And yes, he remembered.