InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Forgiven's Not Forgotten ❯ Twisted Pathways of the Soul ( Chapter 2 )

Forgiven's Not Forgotten-Twisted Pathways of the Soul

The day is passing in a haze; we have decided to head westward, as Naraku has seemed to have done. The others refuse to let me do anything, saying they don't wish to provoke me into another sudden attack. They know I see right through their fabrication, but I let it be. If they needed that small act of compliancy, then I was going to give it to them.

I am on Kirara's back, the transformed youkai walking alongside her master and Miroku. Shippou sits in front of me, currently resting. I suppose that the time is a bit past noon: Our shadows are faintly visible behind us.

Nothing eventful has happened; as of yet we haven't even stopped to eat. I can feel my stomach growling, urging me to fill the empty pit. Sango must have heard one of the rumbles I emitted, for she decides to stop.

"We need to eat while we can. Who knows when we'll run into Naraku or one of his lesser youkai."

Miroku was beginning to pick up on Sango's road of thought, and he began to nod in agreement. "We will need all of our strength."

I can sense they are trying to tell me something, but they sure weren't being a subtle as they believed. I have learned how to feign defeat, however, and allow them their small victory. I nudge the kitsune child, who curls all the closer to me. I cannot help but smile at this innocent reaction, but I know he will need to eat as well. Good thing that he isn't as grumpy when he gets up as most human children.

Very odd, how I now think on such terms. For many in my time, there are only human children. There are no monsters in the closets, or underneath the beds. Or anywhere, for that matter. "Shippou-chan, we're stopping to eat."

He mumbles something I don't hear, so I carefully lift him in my arms and join Sango and Miroku by my bag.

I have been finding Miroku rather amusing as he has been trudging along with the `inexcusably large' burlap bag. I do believe he has a bit more respect for my sheer strength of will to carry that thing wherever I go.

Sango pulls out a string of fish from my bag, causing me to fall into a state of utter amazement. How did that get in there? By way of explanation, Sango gestures toward Miroku.

"Well, we, err, I decided that the fishing in the creek near where we camped last night was too good to pass up, and I got a little carried away-" he motions to the string of fish, "And I decided that `to waste not is to want not' so I had placed them in your bag for future use."

Several questions were presenting themselves in my mind after this short speech. How did he fish? Did he just borrow one of those Americanized expressions from me? What does my stuff smell like now? I am sure I don't want to know the answer to any of them, so I remain silent. For a time.

The expectant looks the two people were giving me finally provoked me into a response. "Don't worry about it." My lips form a smile, and their looks of joy at my words send me into laughter. As the sound reberates through my chest, a sleepy kitsune opens his bleary eyes.

"Wasso funny?" Tiny hands rubbed sleep from big eyes filling with curiosity.

I can't help but smile radiantly at the little youkai. "You," I say playfully. Shippou doesn't believe me for a second.

Turning his head, the kitsune lets out a yip of excitement at the site of the fish. He leaps from my arms to Sango's back, eyeing the tasty morsels with longing.

I decide to volunteer to search for firewood.

Miroku decides to come along.

The trees present their prim trunks to us as we walk, pleading that we stop and listen as the wind stirs their leaves in a gentle harmony.

I pause, feeling the gentle caress of the wind's tendrils through my long hair. It is good to be alive. I believe the forest surrounding me is saying much the same.

Miroku politely taps my shoulder; I turn with a guilty expression on my face. His precarious hold on the bundle of stick he is carrying makes me look down at my handful and sigh.

"We should start back, Kagome-san."

"Hai." I glance around the forest once more, breathing deeply. "Hai."

I can hear Shippou now; we are but a hill away from where we stopped. He is pestering Sango, and from what I am hearing, she's having issues with Kirara as well. "We're back!" As I call out, I spot Shippou. He runs to me, wide grin on his face.

"Sugoi! We get to eat soon!" He grabs onto my leg, chattering absently as I continue on to where Miroku has set down his bundle of branches.

Sugoi? Where did he learn that word? Mysteries were building today.

I stop myself, knowing that this train of thought would bring me back to the one thing I needed to ignore for the time being. Of course, that `thing' being Inuyasha.

It's just so darn hard! Everything seemed. . . Wrong, or at least incomplete when he wasn't around. Sure, I know he can be such a baka, as well as an annoying, egotistical, macho-mannish, proud-It doesn't matter. He's my baka, and for some reason that makes all the difference.

Then again, there was the little matter concerning the word `my'. I am implying possession, which for Inuyasha I have none. I am quickly learning to hate proper grammar.

I smell something, and it penetrates through my thoughts that Miroku has started to cook the fish. Shippou's twitching nose attests to the same fact, but he is continuing to hold my leg quite firmly. I am resigned once more.

Sitting myself on the ground while avoiding squashing Shippou was an entertaining situation-If you were anyone other than Shippou or me. Thus did Kirara, Miroku, and Sango find a diversion they were only too wiling to poke fun at.

Reminds me of Inuyasha.

Miroku asks me something I don't catch. "Are? Gomen nasai."

He waves off my apology with his hand, grinning. "I asked if you like your fish well done."

Nodding warily, I eye the houshi and his fish-on-sticks.

"Good." I decide Miroku looks way too pleased with himself as he hands me one of the sticks. "Well done for the pretty young miko."

"Hai, Miroku, whatever you say. Arigato." He wasn't kidding when he said well done. I could easily say the fish was darker than Inuyasha's hair in human form.

"Not again!" I cry out before I realize. Everyone is looking at me oddly, and I weakly gesture at the burnt fish, feeling sheepish.

Miroku is giving me a most puzzled look. "Kagome-san, I haven't cooked fish for you before."

"That looks more burnt than cooked, houshi." Sango is pointedly ignoring Miroku, though her comment was heavily based on what he'd just said.

I listen as they launch into a one sided argument, the other side retorting with outrageous flirtations. I feel like I'm in some bad sitcom. . . Or alternate universe. None of these thoughts are all that comforting.

Shippou has decided that my lap is much more comfortable than the ground, and is munching on his own `fried fish'. I manage to ignore the extra carbon, and between picking out bones that only seem to bother me and avoiding chewing on the stick the fish is on, I am eating well.

Time passes, and we are on our way once more. I have Kirara run scout, checking before and behind our little group. I spot a few squirrels, but nothing else.

I cannot tell if I am disappointed or not.

The afternoon has been passing in much the same manner, myself growing tired long before the others, Shippou's constant breathing in front of me like a lullaby sung by a mother to her child. I wonder if Inuyasha's mother ever sang him a lullaby-

"Chikuso!"

Everyone stops; Shippou wakes suddenly. Miroku is first to find his voice. "Ka-Kagome-san?"

Shippou is looking around, confusion written on his face. I realize the only reason he awoke was due to the sudden shift in the group's emotions. "Nani?" he is asking, twisting around to find me with his eyes.

Sango coughs, hiding her look of surprise behind her loose hair. Miroku looks straight ahead, but not before I catch sight of a grin starting on his face.

This cannot be happening. A futile denial, I know. "N-nothing, Shippou. Just rest." I feel my cheeks warming, and I realize I am blushing. How embarrassing. . .

Shippou casts his gaze over us once more, before nodding his head in childish understanding. "Hai, Kagome." The kitsune cuddles up against my stomach with a soft sigh of contentment.

We continue on in strained silence, and partial amusement on Miroku's behalf. I am feeling utterly ashamed and shocked at myself.

The sun has lowered considerably in the sky, making our utmost priority as setting up camp. The thin trail we have loosely been following branches, and Sango strides purposefully down the northern one. The contradictions of that are simply astounding. There is a small brook, one of many scattered throughout Nippon, with an ideal clearing situated not far from its banks.

Stopping, I gently slide off Kirara's back, thanking the youkai as I do. Shippou still rests, and I hold him close in my arms as everything is laid out. Miroku is kind enough to unroll my sleeping bag, though I am somewhat wary of hentai purposes. Nothing is attempted; I gratefully lie the sleeping kitsune down on the soft surface. I catch his whimper as I step away, and I smile.

Sango is eyeing me, and I hope in vain she has forgotten my slip of tongue from earlier.

Common sense tells me she hasn't.

With a sigh, I shrug my shoulders at her and make my way to my bag, intent on bathing. Somehow, Sango discerned my goal and joins me as I stand up, change of clothes in hand.

"We will be back soon, Miroku." Sango's eyes get positively dangerous. "Don't do anything. . . Hentai."

We are speaking of Miroku, right? I can hardly repress my laughter as I watch my friend send deadly looks at the houshi. "Come on, Sango. It's bath time, remember?"

She is shaking her head defiantly, then nodding in acquiescence. "Right, Kagome. Let's go!" Her tone is definitive as she sends Miroku one last death glare, turning around and leading the way toward the water.

I watch her stomp off, raising my eyebrows in query. If they even think of insulting my relationships, they need to take a good look at their own. Not that my friends ever insult me, but they do rag on Inuyasha.

I might as well admit it. He won't stay off my mind.

I start following Sango, barely paying attention to where I am walking. So tired. The brook looms up ahead, and we begin to follow the twists and turns to a fairly wide pool. Still waters run deep. Am I warning myself?

If so, of what?

Sango is already undressing, neatly folding her things and placing them upon the ground. Her scarred back is facing me, and I feel a brief pang of sadness for her pain. For everything that has happened to me, I haven't lost any of my family. Naraku has caused her more pain than he's ever caused me.

Yet I was the one whom they so heavily relied upon; I was the pillar they leaned upon.

I am the crutch and binding rope that holds them together-Superficially.

Sango looks at me, waiting. I haven't yet unclothed, and the night air is doubtlessly cool on her skin. If the water is any warmer, I'm amazed.

Quickly, I discard my clothing, grateful to be out of the soiled fuku that had been all I'd worn for several days. I may be in the past, but I do not wish to pick up the people's rarely cleansed look. Not that they don't bathe or anything, they just do so less often. Work tends to do that to you.

I smile at Sango, shivering slightly as the night breeze swirls around me. Slowly walking up to her, I stick my toe in the frigid water, testing. The water was bone-chilling, but fresh. "Here goes."

I can see Sango's shocked expression as I step back, ready to leap into the water's crippling embrace. "Kagome?"

Is my name some sort of multi-layered puzzle? Does each situation call upon another meaning? I roll my shoulders, and take off. My left foot pushes off the bank, and I squeal in protest as the chilling water surrounds me. Shivering, I turn as I hear Sango mutter under her breath. "C-Come on i-i-in, S-s-Sango! T-The water's n-n-n-nice!"

She has an almost unbelievable look of incredulity on her face right now. I laugh.

Sango smiles, and jumps in after me. I begin religiously scrubbing at my oily skin, using a handful of sand I timidly take from the bottom of the brook. If you can really call this a brook.

My hair is spread over my shoulders, and floats in the cool water behind my head. I have already picked my next target. Sango tosses several dried plants my way; she had the foresight to bring along the soap-like plants. Tossing her a grateful smile in return, I begin to grind up the plants between my hands, a soapy lather rewarding my efforts. Gently, I begin to rub this in my hair.

I suppose I should start bringing my own shampoo and conditioner, from my home. I have been holding back, however, not wanting to find out what the chemical mess could do in this time. Maybe I could find a few herbal soaps, or something. Or something indeed.

I turn around, hands busy in my hair. Sango is doing much the same, but her hands stop. "Kagome?"

There's that name thing again. "Hai?"

"What's that?"

"What's what?" I don't like her tone of voice.

"That," she is saying, pointing at my right shoulder. "That bruise."

I glance down at myself, for the first time noticing the ugly purple-black bruise I was sporting. "Nani? I thought you guys had checked me over for injuries."

Sango is looking puzzled, and stands to gingerly grasp my shoulder. "Hai, Kagome, but this wasn't there then."

Meaning that the bruise, which was not hurting me at all, has only appeared recently. The last day kind of recently. With an inexplicable kind of recently. "I don't know, Sango. I don't know!" My voice is straining; I am trembling with more than the cold of the water now.

"Wakaru, Kagome. I understand." I am crying now, and she attempts to get me to stand. I feel her discomfort, but I can do nothing to alleviate the emotion. "Its okay, Kagome. You're just fine!" Her voice is unsure; I can feel her resolve waver.

"I know, Sango. Gomen nasai." I pull myself together; unwarranted emotional releases never help. I clamber up the bank, and I am toweling off as Sango joins me.

I can tell she is wavering between continued silence and speech. Speech wins out. "Kagome, we'll find him soon. I-"

For once, my mind is not where it normally is. "Are? Why do I care to find Naraku soon?"

Sango blinks, before stating what should have been obvious. "I was speaking of Inuyasha, Kagome."

Silence. "Oh."

I dress, pulling on the nightclothes I had finally decided to bring with me to this time. The silence is stretching out between Sango and me, almost tangible. Finally, I speak again. "Let's head back, Sango. I'm getting cold." I was cold-The night had settled in quite definitely and the breeze was picking up speed along with it.

I hear Sango's soft "Hai," as we set off back through the crowding trees. Fire flickers between branches as we approach camp, the crackling of the burning wood one of many night sounds. I wonder if Shippou has awoken yet-

The kitsune flies at me from behind a tree, answering my question. "Kagome! I missed you!"

I laugh; I can't help myself. "Shippou, I've only been gone for a few minutes."

His nose is wrinkling, his eyes widening. "Really? It feels like forever!"

I smile at his tone of sincerity, wondering what has brought all of this on. Normally, Shippou isn't quite this-Clingy.

The fire is beckoning, and I don't bother to resist. Sango is still silent, but we are now less strained. Miroku is once more turning fish into charred sticks, but in my current state of hunger I could care less.

"Konnichi wa!" Miroku appears happy, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I check to make sure that whatever I am wearing isn't transparent in the firelight. I am happy that it is not.

I puzzle over grammar for a moment-Next to Mathematics it is my worst subject. Speaking of which, "I have a test in two days!"

Miroku and Sango exchange looks, and Shippou frowns from my lap. "Why do you have to take those baka tests, anyway?"

Inuyasha always asks me the same thing. I smile down at him, tenderly. "For my future, Shippou. I don't want to burn any bridges before I get to them." I've already left so many in smoking ruins.

The kitsune youkai gives me a huff, hugging his knees to his chest. "I don't like them."

I laugh again, patting his head. "I don't either, Shippou-chan."

"Then why-"

"I just explained, Shippou-chan."

He just grumps.

Miroku extends another stick to me, and I smile at the sight of charred fish. Some things will never change-Real men can't cook.

The fire crackles; I tense. I hear something in the forest, approaching. With a sudden certain, I know whom it is. A name hovers on my lips, more an exhalation than an actual word. "Inuyasha. . . "

Turning my head, I spot the hanyou standing on the edge of the clearing, eyes downcast and hidden behind silver bangs. I am standing before I know what I am doing, and slowly walking towards him. It is now that I notice the sticks he held clutched in his hand.

No, not sticks-Broken bits of a bow. Now I am certain, and my heart aches with the knowledge, my bruised yet previously hurt-free shoulder throbbing to its own heartbeat.

I am proud as my voice doesn't catch, when I decide to speak. "Inuyasha. . . " I say, lightly touching his sleeve, my own eyes on his hidden face. "It's alright to cry." He gives no response of having heard me.

My feet carry me further, leading me to the forest so rich with life, though the effect is lost on me right at this moment. All I am thinking of is Inuyasha's loss. A loss I had felt, somehow. But how in heck did I feel Kikyou. . . Die? And what does that mean for me?

No answers, only echoes drifting through my mind. A soft scent of fresh water leads me to the brook from earlier, though by a different route. I sit myself down, and stare at the reflection of the moon and stars in the lucid water. Then I begin to cry.