InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Forgiven's Not Forgotten ❯ Home of Loss ( Chapter 3 )

Forgiven's Not Forgotten-Home of Loss

Such a quaint term, is `cry'. Does it infer loud, heart-wrenching sobs, self centered whining, or a release of unmanaged pain? Perhaps all, but I was not employing any of them. Water falls unbidden, uncalled for, from my eyes to run in rivulets down my cheeks and collect in miniature seas on the frigid ground. No, not a sound escapes my lips, except the steady whisper of my breathing if that counts at all.

I struggle to see the small points of light in the sky above me, those tiny bits of sparkling luster drawing my hungry eyes.

I want reassurance, I want comfort, and I don't even know why.

Apparently, Inuyasha doesn't know why either. The acidic taint of miasma gives his presence away to me, though how I know for certain it is him I cannot say. I don't even know why the tell-tale scent didn't register with me when I first saw him, though perhaps I merely didn't think on the fact.

Not that this is an important point as far as I am concerned; a good sense of smell was never on my priority list. In fact, that was more Inuyasha's forte. Still is, if I am not wrong in thinking that his nose led him to me.

Then again, I'm still not much of a forester. The path I forced through this dark and brooding forest is probably more obvious than the changes in weather.

Which I am beginning to notice, as I feel the hanyou approach me from the darkness that enfolds the world as of this moment. Yet my traitorous mouth doesn't mention the shifting winds, or the gathering clouds. No, I can't be indirect, or misleading at the moment. I have always found this hard to be with Inuyasha. I suppose I always will. "How?"

I can tell he stiffened at my word; for a moment the world stopped completely. That moment is gone-My hanyou moves once again.

I see him, a bit of darker shadow amongst the rest, as he steps into the light of the moon. My hair has fallen back, a consequence of my initial lost gaze into the space above our little planet. Above our little hopes, our little dreams, our little. . . Problems. Though I suppose I really mean my little problems, my little dreams, and my little hopes.

To some extent, they are all I have.

I still cannot see his eyes, eyes of amber so rich and deep with emotions he holds very dear to himself. Eyes that can act like mirrors into a soul whose pain has been great, and whose trust has been gradually reawakened. Eyes that could tell me so much, or so little at the same time.

Those eyes which I feel have never seen me as who I am-Not whom I was. Whom my soul was at one point, to be exact.

The lingo's catching up to me. An oddly appropriate thought.

A small intake of breath, irregular for the man to the front and left of me, warns me now that he has seen my tears and understood what his nose had been telling him. I cannot think that this is a happy revelation for Inuyasha-He has never been able to cope with my tears.

He still hasn't answered me.

A sigh finds its way through my clenched teeth, a weight greater than any I have previously felt settling about my shoulders. A mantle of responsibility-And maturity. Fanciful thinking.

"Sit down, Inuyasha." I am not asking, but rather telling. I feel little surprise as he complies, sitting dangerously close to the flowing waters edge. He is turned away from me.

"Naraku." I startle, the sudden sound of his hoarse voice filling my ears. "Naraku killed her."

"But," I begin, "His human heart wouldn't let-Oh no." Horrific images of the vaguely child-like youkai whom had been within Mount Hakurei flash through my mind with terrible clarity. "A child. Naraku's put Onigumo's heart into a child."

His silence is all the confirmation I need. Yet maybe Inuyasha doesn't know for certain himself. If so. . . ? "How, Inuyasha. Tell me how."

The hanyou doesn't speak, but I can hear him growling lowly. The sound is hypnotizing; I almost miss his response. "Miasma."

I feel a lump form in my throat-The scent of miasma clinging to Inuyasha makes sudden sad sense. I slowly push myself to my knees. Somehow, the action still ends up being jerky and forced.

Sliding forward, I wince as a rock grinds into the tender skin on my knees. One of Inuyasha's ears flicks toward me; I know he hears my soft exclamation of pain. After what has begun to feel like eternity, I reach his diffident back.

My hand-fluttering, unsteady thing that it is-reaches out to touch him, pausing before making contact. I gather myself close about me, turning my uncertainties into raw emotion, converting them into some sort of foolishly brash confidence. Slender fingers merge with the rough fabric of the hanyou's haori, and my mouth begins to form words. "Inuyasha, I'm sor-"

"Why are you crying?" I realize two things at once: The tears haven't stopped falling from my eyes, and I'm having the strangest sense of de-ja-vu.

I smile, and speak, though not in answer to his question. "You asked me that when we were hiding from the Spider-Head youkai." I feel him tense under my hand.

"Why are you crying?" If I can say anything, it is that Inuyasha is persistent.

Good question. "Ano. . ." Two silver-white ears turn, intently following my every word. "Sadness."

"You're crying because of sadness? What fucking kind of reason is that?" I can hear the incredulity in Inuyasha's voice.

This doesn't stop my anger, however. It's the hurt I know he's feeling. "The most common kind."

He's growling again; I can feel the rumbling in his chest. I know the moment his tears start to flow, as silent as my own. His shoulders slump dejectedly. "What do you have to be fucking sad about, bitch?"

I flinch at his harsh words, though they are normal for him. My mouth opens, and then closes. Instead, I move my hand to his shoulder, and pull the hanyou into my embrace. "Baka. I told you already, it's alright to cry."

"Ursai! I am not crying!" I remain silent as his own tears give him away, slipping off his face to hit in a miniature rainfall on my arm. A shudder passes through Inuyasha, and I can sense that he is on the edge of surrendering to his own emotions. There is turmoil there, I know this, and as I attempt to cradle his large form in my arms I can almost see his mental reserves crumble and fall.

I feel like a mother, right now, comforting a child who has just realized for the first time what life truly is. A child who, in the process, has forgotten that for all of life's cruelties, there are also life's kindnesses.

What I need to do will not remind this man-child in my arms of this particular fact.

The turbulent clouds have covered the night sky, rendering everything into a darkness rich with the promise of heavenly release; of rain. For a moment, I feel a hand cover my own, a hand that I know belongs to a face with eyes laden with guilt and grief that the bearer knows not how to handle.

Yet this only lasts a moment, as the self-same hand pushes me away, violently. I understand; perhaps my curse is to always know why. I am almost grateful, as the rain finally decides to come crashing down to earth in unchecked fury.

I have my own duties to attend to, and though my heart aches now with the knowledge of pain caused for those I hold dearest, I must leave.

He won't understand-I know him too well to fool myself into believing such.

How I wish I could.

I cannot hear the hanyou speak, as he surely does, over the thunder of the rain, but this is for the better. Denials, in any way, shape, or form, can kill my heart right now. Worse still, would be an acknowledgement or confession. I have my own inner demons to confront, once reality has set in.

Turning, wet hair clinging to my head and shoulders, I start back toward where I believe camp to be. Facts begin to register, and I fully realize the impact of Inuyasha's tears. He was crying. Inuyasha-Crying. Cruel fate will make me analyze this as I have never done with mathematics, where such analyzing is part and parcel of comprehension.

There it is-My reminder. School, homework, tests. . . They were all my parallels to a life of peril, my own constant, completely harmless life. Well, maybe not completely harmless. Half of my future relies on those very things.

And when I start to think about this, I find that it is not as much dangerous, as critical. Yet which life do I now speak of?

My footsteps pound along, keeping me steady on slick ground. Rain blinds me, but doesn't hinder my sense of direction. Amazingly enough, I have one. As I get closer to the dying campfire, a nauseous feeling stops me. The bruise on my shoulder is aching once more, with enough persistent pain to bring me to my knees.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. The most automatic of responses, and surprisingly enough this mantra helps. My stomach settles, the bile no longer rising in my throat. I need to stand up. I have to go!

Maybe not, but this thought propels me forward, awkwardly gaining my feet again. My tired eyes spot a flicker of orange, the fire that I had not long ago left behind. Almost there.

"Kagome-san?" I smile at Miroku's concerned appearance from where he lounges by the fire, as I don't want to upset my friend.

"Konnichi wa, Miroku. Where's Sango?"

She stands from where she has been resting. The rain lessons somewhat, though this is hardly noticeable as shielded by the interlocking branches above as we are. "Sango! Just who I wanted to see." There is no mention of my short disappearance, or of Inuyasha's continued leave of absence. "Can Kirara take me back to the Hone Kui no Ido?"

The exterminator looks slightly shocked at my request, but still nods her head understandingly. "Hai, Kagome-sama." She motions with her hand, and her friend, the felinistic youkai Kirara, transforms to her full size, unhappy with the scant rain that has been falling down upon her.

"Gomen, Kirara," I whisper, heaving myself onto her back while I reach for the bag Miroku so kindly brought for me. Kirara's ear turns to meet my voice, and the youkai nods her head, though I know not if in understanding of my apology. I allow my eyes, misting over so slightly with unshed tears, to turn to the others. "Gomen Miroku, Sango, Shippou." A quick glance to the darkened forest, silent with the onset of rain. "Inuyasha. . . " My heart constricts, but I force a smile to my face.

Shippou is resting once more on my sleeping bag, as of yet protected from the cold reality which has set in around the three ningens, and perhaps the youkai as well. "When he gets back, tell him I've gone home for a while. I should be back within the next three days, I hope." Houshi and exterminator nod in unison.

"Arigato, everyone. Ja ne." Kirara is already in the air as I am speaking these words, running on invisible pathways through a sky of dangerous black and gray. Did they hear my goodbyes? I hope so. This trip, I think, should not be a long one.

"Kagome-san? Is that you?" I am looking down in surprise as Myouga appears from under Kirara's fur.

"Hai, Myouga-san. Why are you here?" He had run away from the last battle, had hidden as he usually did. I wonder if it is because his is a coward, or if his knowledge makes him fear the `could be's' and `what if's'.

"Well, I, err, decided to, uh, find out some information concerning, ah-"

I silence the flea, speaking in his stead. "It's alright, I know."

He puffs up, nodding his head with sage-like wisdom. "Yes, indeed." He pauses, obviously thinking. "Where are we going, Kagome-san?"

"I believe, Myouga-san, that I am as much of a coward as you are. I'm running away, with excuses much less transparent than your own but of the exact same caliber."

"Running? From what?" He sounds confused, I think. Something begins to register in his head. "Thin excuses?"

My smile is a reflection of my sad eyes as I reply. "Affairs of the heart."

"Sounds like one of those bound scrolls you bring back with you."

"Does it really, Myouga-san?" I sigh, clutching Kirara's dampening fur more firmly with my hands. The landscape below us, a collection of trees and hills, valleys, lakes, ponds, clearings, and villages passes by in a shadowed blur. So different from the cement Tokyo I've grown up in. Peaceful in one sense, deadly in another.

Myouga has lapsed into silence. The raging sound of thunder reaches my ears, behind us and before us. Lightning strikes in the far off mountains, a deadly spear of blazing beauty from the heavens. I find my voice again as a thought strikes me.

"Myouga, what was Inuyasha's mother like?"

The flea has a worshipful expression in his eyes, as he begins to tell me what he remembers. "Oh, she was the most beautiful of mortal women, with hair like gossamer and eyes deeper than any sea. She was a princess, a most beautiful pearl in the oyster of humanity. Her heart was bigger than the whole of the world, her understanding and hurt for her child greater than can ever really be known."

I stay still, listening to tales of a woman I will never meet, a woman who left her son by no choice of her own. Myouga speaks on, not needing my encouragement to talk of the woman he so obviously admired. I register little of what he says, too lost in what had happened earlier this night to fully comprehend the flea's words.

Kirara sinks lower in the sky, the end of my journey approaching. Myouga doesn't stop his flow of words, and I do not feel the need to silence him. The trees rise up to meet us, silent watchers of the forest, impassive in their nonjudgmental way. The Hone Kui no Ido in its meadow is a sight that freezes my heart, for some inexplicable reason.

I dismount, scratching Kirara's ears as I do so. "Arigato, Kirara. Take yourself and Myouga-san back to the others, and do be careful." A pitiful meow greets my words, but the feline wastes no time in taking to the air. "Sayonara," I whisper, the wind stealing my words from me.

My steps are hesitant as I approach the gateway to my time, to the reality I had grown up in. When will I be back? I don't know. Maybe when I said I would, maybe longer.

I have to tend to a few wounds on my heart before I can face Inuyasha again. There was too much torture in his amber gaze for me to face without some sort of shield. I can't have my heart broken yet again, the glue holding the pieces together already losing some of its hold.

The tenuous grip I have on my sanity hums with painful clarity, and with a flying leap I am falling, ever falling through a scattered light that should have never been there. I close my eyes, waiting for ground to reappear beneath me. When it does, I find myself falling to my knees.

"Chikuso!" This was the second time today I had used that word, and I greatly disliked myself for this. I've been around Inuyasha for too long. The thought is kind, rather than cruel.

I suppress a groan as I stand, my knees that had been tender from earlier now bleeding from their rough treatment. "Baka," I call myself, hooking my large bag over my shoulders.

I now need to climb up the ladder.

Needless to say in so many words, I am not looking forward to this.

My rain-slicked hands grasp the ladders rungs as I haul myself up toward the lip of this stupid well. I feel a brief lick of anger touch my soul, but soon this is gone. Left behind is the bitter embers, growing cold within me.

I grip the edge of the well, flopping onto my stomach and whipping my legs up and around. Once I feel like I can stand without falling, I move. The shrine is dark, concealing the corners and giving the room a rounded effect. My shoulder is aching once again, pounding and pulsing. I feel light-headed, and lean against the well's rim for support.

A single thought takes form in my mind, a single, scary question. What's wrong?

Worry enfolds me, embracing me with its cold, cold arms. I break out in gooseflesh, every individual hair on my body standing straight up.

What's wrong?

One step. Another. Yet another, and now I am at the base of those steps that would take me up and out into the world I had been born into. I hesitate.

"What's wrong?"

I startle, not recognizing my own voice. Even though I knew I'd spoken. Even though.

Anger flares to life, and I take the first, daring step toward my home. "Chikuso! What's wrong?" The steps fall beneath my feet, a short, pounding tattoo taking me up, up to the world. Not even my backpack weighs me down.

Once again, I hesitate before the door, caught like some poor creature in a spider's web. Dread fills me. I wasn't thinking of Naraku by chance.

Thud.

My backpack has slid off my shoulders, kicking up a puff of dust as it hits the wooden planks I stand on. My hands reach forward, to slid the door back.

Terror seizes my soul. The courtyard, always so spotless, is stained with some dark, black substance. The scent of iron assaults my nostrils, and I know with horrifying clarity what I am seeing.

It is blood. Human blood.

I am running, though not running aimlessly, following the trail of black by the light of the quarter moon. Denial floods my mind, denial that I am awake and not dreaming. Yet never had any of my dreams conveyed such finality, such dread certainty that something, something awful, had happened. Was happening.

My voice returns to me, and now I use this weapon as effectively as I can. "Souta? Mama? Jii-chan? SOUTA?" I remind myself not to scream, not to waste my breath in such a way. My speed increases, and by some miracle I manage to not slip in the slick stains. Ahead was my house.

And none of the lights were on.

Fear settles like a clamp around my midsection, squeezing. Air-I need air.

My feet slow, my body regaining precious, life-giving air. Terror wants to immobilize me-I cannot let this happen. Everything is in slow motion, my approach to the front of my house taking an ungodly amount of time. Not a whisper escapes my lips. Not a sound.

The blood is newer here, more thickly permeating the air with its stench. I am hypersensitive to this, yet still I walk through the puddles congealing in the room.

I see nothing unusual, if I discount the blood marring the floor, the walls, the windows, and even the ceilings. Nothing is out of place, everything neat.

The same in the kitchen. Nothing missing, nothing misplaced. But the blood, oh, the blood is everywhere.

Shock. Immense shock takes hold of me as I follow the hallway to the stairs, christened with blackend blood. What an absurd contrast. Everything, everything was so neat, nothing messy, but the blood. . . The blood was not. Why? Why the control?

The top of my stairs. Everything is dark, the doors impassive observers. Like the trees they had been made of. Yet they were more sinister, in their frames, for they hid behind them unspeakable acts of terror. Massacres. My family, and maybe their murderer.

For I hold no hope in my heart that they are alive.

The first door, I begin to open slowly. This is my brother's room, my dear and sweet Souta's haven.

Pristine. I can see no blood anywhere, but a perverse sense of cynicism forces me in further. My eyes travel to his bed, and I flinch. The bed has been raveged, the pillows and blankets mauled. Here there was blood, dying the already red sheets a dark maroon.

My stomach flips, and I now hurry away to the bathroom. There is blood here, in the bath and on the walls. I shudder, feeling an urge to wash my hands clean, clean of all this blood I haven't even touched. I twist the handles, turning on the faucet. Cold water splashes onto my cupped hands, and I lift them to my face.

I haven't dried off from the rain that had been in the past, but this water seems like a knife of frigid chill through my ribs the way it wakes me from my shocked retreat. This is reality, Kagome. This is really happening. My lungs fill with ragged breaths, but I cannot cry. I can only stare at my hands, and the water running over them.

Slowly, I raise my head, for some inexplicable reason. The mirror shows my face in the weak moonlight, but also shows something else. I lean forward, terrified yet intent on reading the word that is there. I am squinting, not able to make much out without turning on the lights. For that was something I could not do.

Kagome.

My name was on the mirror, written in blood. My name.

I dry gag, running back into the hall. I can care less that the water is still running-I am not going to go back to that atrocity.

I ignore the rooms where my mother and grandfather slept, going straight to my own room. I know quite clearly where the bodies are. Where the murderer most likely still is.

My hand doesn't tremble as I push open the door, nor does the murderer jump out of the shadows. They are gone from here, but I do not believe that they have gone far. "Mama? Souta? Jii-chan?" Three still forms lie on the floor, all appearing to be peacefully asleep if I only looked at their faces.

Spots of blood destroy the illusion. I kneel, reaching my hand out to brush a stray lock of hair off my younger brother's face. His face is all that remains human, as with the rest of my family. The rest is mangled beyond recognition, the obvious source of the blood elsewhere.

"No." Is that my cracked voice? It must be. "No, no, no, no, NO!" I am standing now, fists by my side. I strain, searching for something. I sense a strongly dark youki from outside, near the kitchen. Terror, my immense terror, my immense lack of comprehension turns rapidly into anger.

"You will pay." I begin to run, back along the path I had taken. To the kitchen, where in a single lucid moment I find myself taking one of the large knives from a drawer. Fat lot that would do, but this is better than nothing.

Through the kitchen door, and into the night once more. I sense movement, and throw the knife in that direction. Great. I already lost my only weapon. A furiated hiss meets my ears, and the youkai steps out of the shadows. With surprise, I note that the knife has struck home on the youkai's left arm.

He was reptilian of face and body, though he walked upon two legs. A forked tongue flickered between sharp teeth, wicked talons decorating the youkai's unnaturally long fingers. Another scent finally reaches me.

This youkai is decaying. He probably isn't even alive.

"Kagooooomeeee." He hisses my name, and anger overtakes my shocked self once more as he pulls the knife out of his scaly arm.

"You. . .You killed my FAMILY!" I am leaping toward the youkai, throwing myself at the creature. He backhands me, effectively throwing me away. For the third time tonight, my knees are rubbed raw. A trail of blood marks my skid from where I have hit the ground.

"Theey were weeeeak, pathhhhhetic humanssssss." He scurries forward, a reptilian grin on his blood smeared face. "Theey tassssted good."

Anger. I seem to have a lot of this in reserve. "My family! I'll make you pay, BASTARD!" I dimly am aware of how much I am acting like Inuyasha at this moment. Funny that I fall back on his example when the shock has taken me over otherwise.

I am attempting to stand, but failing miserably as the pain freezes my legs beneath me.

The youkai laughs, a painfully high cackling. "You cannnnot ssssstand, cannnn you bitcccch?"

I pull off my best imitation of Inuyasha growling in anger.

The laughter continues. "Naraku ssssshall beeee sssso pleassssed. I sssshall have my resssst, at lasssst."

Shock, again. Naraku? Alive? We never killed him? I am staring at this pathetic youkai corpse, this murderer of my family, this destroyer of my home. He shouldn't have been here, in my time. He shouldn't have existed. I watch as he darts forward, talons extended to my throat. I close my eyes, the bitter aftertaste of my passing anger more like grief than any other emotion. Soon, it would all be over.