InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Harusame ❯ Life is but a dream ( Chapter 1 )

~<>~ Harusame ~<>~

 

 

-And now a word from the author: I want to thank those who have flowed over from `Curse of the Dragon' to read the new story. I don't plan, at all, for this to be as long as `Curse', maybe about half the chapters at most. Also, don't hate me…but I'm sure I'm going to anger a lot of people through this story. It won't be a racy as `Curse' but I'm basing this off real life. That means that the characters (all of them) are human and subjected to human mortality.

 

 

-Also, note now; this is an Inu/Kagome fiction. Though Sesshoumaru is a main character and him and Kagome are best friends, there will be no lewdness between Kagome and Sessh. As for lewdness in general, it won't be as much as `Curse', I can say that now.

 

 

-anyway, on with the show!!!

 

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~<>~ Chapter 1 ~<>~ Life is but a dream

 

 

 

His hair was matted by the hazy night's rain; it hung limply, cluttering in his face like a mask of sorrow and regret. The morbidity of the night stung at him like a thousand knives, each one drilling slightly deeper into his soul…ripping out his heart piece by piece, rendering him cold to the world. With a deep sigh, the man ran his trembling hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The pale moonlight danced upon his striking features, delineating this figure that so many thought an angel fallen from heaven. His narrow light brown eyes gleamed with an ironic sadness; sadness for regrets that couldn't be counted, for accidents that salvation for was now impossible. His black hair fell like wet cloth over the sides of his face, clinging to his strong cheekbones and broad shoulders, the black midnight locks tangling together as the wind kicked up around him.

 

Papers danced to inaudible yet enchanting music in the streets, circling each other unabashed in a hypnotic memorizing rhythm. They danced to the whispers of the night, the untold stories of the city and unseen horrors of the darkness. It was enthralling, dangerous; like dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight. The whirlwind of news grazed by the man's feet and continued its seductive dance onward into the ominous darkness.

 

The man turned his face from the captivating sight. Standing slowly from the frigid marble bench, he pulled a cigarette out from his pocket. The Zippo lighter just short of materialized in his hand as he shoved the cancer stick into his mouth. He cupped his hand, and then ignited the flame. The fire spurted forth from the tiny metal contraption like that from a dragon's mouth, warming his freezing hands. `Like trying to warm the dead…what is the point?' Titling his head to the right, he shoved the end of the cigarette into the destructive path of fire. As the paper began to burn with life the wind swirled around the man and ended the existence of the dancing flame. The tiny glowing ember at the end of the stick was now the only mark of ones existence beyond the stone walls.

 

He wasn't ready to face this…he couldn't face it. That was one of the main reasons he was standing outside instead of being at his place next to his brother. The air had been to stifling, the unspoken words unbearable. Taking one look at the girl, so beautiful…by the gods she was always beautiful…then catching the eyes of his brother…it had all been too much for him. Now he stood alone in the windy December night, the night air biting at his face like piranhas. He walked up and down the street slowly, his feet dragging lethargically behind him, his head pounding with a tension headache.

 

He paused, glancing at the church on the corner of the street. With a grunt, he walked towards the church, his hands jammed into his pockets, the cigarette hanging from his mouth like a limp hand. Somehow he had almost expected to hear the dramatic music of his life echo from the tall bell tower that lingered over the muddy rooftops of the deserted Queens streets. He hesitated putting his foot onto the sacred ground, as if he wasn't worth enough to even be in the presence of God. `Their God…my Gods…in the end, they are all the same, aren't they? Yet, here I am…a sinner, unworthy of this ground…do I dare tread up it? Will it reject me, turn me away, and cast me to hell? Is this not hell?'

 

 

With a grimace, he placed his foot onto the decaying marble step hesitantly, as if in fear of some holy barrier that would burn him for being so close. He leaned forward, his weight resting on his knee after a moment of finding himself safe. There was no holy barrier that judged sinners; he had escaped from Minos and his condemnations. For the time being; he has slipped through those impenetrable gates, slithered under the doors that held the Italian warnings which seemed to linger like clouds above his life `Before me nothing but eternal things were made, and I endure eternally. Abandon every hope, who enter here'.

 

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes darkened. `Hope…I know of no such word.' Hope was desolate…hope was unobtainable; hope was a myth, a fantasy made up for children so they grew up only to be disappointed in the atrocity called the real world and take part in ritual suicide under the pretense that life would `get better'. The truth: there was no hope, no good tidings, only darkness…only death. His hands balled to fists, his eyes turned to a near mocha color bordering obsidian…bordering oblivion. What more was there in life? Another step, another dagger to the heart. It was as if the sacred ground was draining his strength, rendering him helpless, defenseless. The once proud millionaire nearly sunk to his knees, the strength fleeing him like rats a sinking ship. He stumbled and grabbed onto the railing, his support transferring to his muscular arms. He was in no sense a weak man, yet all of the tragedy, the desolation of his life, it burned his energy like autumn leaves.

 

Finishing his ascension, he came face to face with the front of a late nineteenth century church. Lifting his eyes, he focused on the figure of Jesus that guarded the doors. He was neither his God nor his idol. He knew very little of the western religions and less of their practices. What he learned he had from his best friend. Thinking of her…thinking of everything…his heart lurched in his chest, slamming against his chest painfully. He winced, trying hard not to let the emotion slip through his hardened stoic exterior. He paused at the church wall and gently reached out, letting his fingers lightly touch the wet cement wall of the Catholic sanctuary.

 

 

Only then, as he held his hand out before his body, did he realize just how much he trembled. Tenacity weighing over the simple shudder of his hand, he languidly dragged his digits down the wall, watching the tiny paths of dew scatter, like ice from a spoon, around his fingers. His throat constricted and for the third time in the last two hours, he had to swallow down the golf ball sized lump in his throat. `The strong never cry' He could remember his father teaching him. `Yet how is it I can't keep these tears from rising?' Did it make him weak…or broken? He knew not the answer.

 

His chest heaved and he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the wet wall. `Kagome…' His right hand clenched into a fist. Pulling back slowly, he punched the cement, indifferent of how the tiny grooves carved into his skin like savages a roast. Blood trickled from the wound, staining the church with the blood of yet another sinner. He pulled his hand from the block and punched again. `Damnit…why her? After all of this, why did it end up like this?'

 

A hand clasped down on his shoulder, startling the man from his brooding and self-righteous indignation. He took a moment to compose himself; his brown eyes sealed shut before he stood upright and turned to face whomever had joined him on the terrace of this lone church. His eyes met lavender and for a moment he breathed a sigh of relief. Had it been his father or brother, it was quite possible that he would have exploded in quite the violent outburst.

 

The new figure regarded his elusive age-old friend out from under blonde bangs, a worried scowl etched onto his face like stone. After searching the man's face, his pain indisputable, he offered a sympathetic frown. “For all it's worth…”

 

The aforementioned man shook his head. “Don't you dare apologize! You're not to blame; you had no hand in this. This…this is my fault.”

 

The friend shifted back to sit on the heels of his feet. Searching his friend's face for a trace of understanding, he slowly shook his head. “How is this your fault? There isn't anything…” His words trailed off like tresses of smoke into the night air, letting silence speak in volumes.

 

Brown eyes closed, images flashed like a home movie in front of his face. Flashes of the past, of how it was, of days he longed to return to. It was a time of shattered innocence, then of tranquil healing…then of friendship and longing…and now…now it was gone; like the wisps of a dream…had it all been a dream? Was life anything more then that, though? Once in your hands, in your arms, you could hold the world, feel like you were indestructible. Then a material object no bigger then the size of half a dime could take it all away. How could something so small, so miniscule lead to this…disaster, this tragedy? A voice sang wearily from the inside of his head in a near ghost-like whisper. `Row…row…row your boat, gently down the stream'

 

 

He screwed his eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the voice. A voice he longed to hear tell him this was a lie…a voice that would tell him that she hadn't married his brother, abandoning him to the harsh realities of the world. A voice that wouldn't tell him that she was pregnant with his arch nemesis's child. A voice that didn't haunt his dreams and wake him at two in the morning calling out for her. `Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,' His right fist clenched shut, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. His façade flickered then faded away, like his connection to the little girl singing in his head. Opening his eyes, tears fell. His voice was hoarse, strained, tired…devastated. “How did this happen?”

 

His long time friend gently patted his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in concern. “I wish I could tell you. But…I can't. What I can do though is tell you that if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

 

Not really meeting his friend's gaze, he nodded dumbly. “Sanzo…that means a lot to me.”

 

The man, Genjo Sanzo, nodded, his blonde hair following his head. With a sad smile, the man hooked his thumb towards the archway doors of the tiny church on Bayside avenue. “ Here, of all the places to hide, would be the last place I would have looked. I half expected you to be halfway to Newark Airport, to be honest.”

 

Hardly casting a glimpse to his side, he answered rather sardonically, “I do not run.”

 

Sanzo shook his blonde head and sighed. “Why don't you come back inside…I'm sure you're missed.”

 

A firm shake of his head was his response. Walking towards the cement steps, he stared out at the buildings across the street. The streets of New York never seemed emptier. Like a wasteland, he thought disjointedly. A moment of silence passed between the two. “I can't…not yet. I'm not ready.”

Sanzo's smile collapsed, sorrow filtering into his eyes. “Somehow I doubt they will hold the service for you much longer…”

 

The man swung himself back around, his suit tail snapping through the air like a whip. Gone was the sorrowful man and in his place an enraged one. The side Kagome hated, the side his enemies feared, it broke through his emotional barrier with a vengeance. “You think I don't know that? You think I want to be out here? I want to be strong for her…I need to be.” He swung his arm wildly to point at the church. “And yet here I am crying like a little bitch on the steps of this fucking temple! Take your pretentious bullshit and shove it up your ass, Sanzo! I know where I need to be, damnit! Just…” He brought a hand to his face and slowly dragged it over his pale skin. His anger melted like ice and drained from his eyes. An ever more violent emotional storm ensued. This storm was of bitterness, of sadness; it stripped him of all of his possessions, his security; this storm ravaged his soul. “Just let me collect myself.”

 

Sanzo, slightly put off by his normally emotionless friend, nodded with empathy. He understood what it was like; he had been in similar situations. “Just…do come back. You're missed.” Turning from the man, he began to retreat the way he had come. The chide response stopped him.

 

“Who is missing me? My brother hates me and I can promise he doesn't give a damn that I'm not there, not that I give a damn, mind you.”

 

Sanzo stroked his chin, his left eyebrow arched. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder and sized up his friend and the ill-fitting lie. “No…it doesn't sound that way at all.” He licked his lips and placed his hands behind him. Leaning back, he redistributed his weight onto his palms. “Sesshoumaru…I think it's time to come to peace with your brother. You two are only hurting each other at this point. You need him…”

 

Sesshoumaru cursed violently. “The hell I do, Sanzo! I need him like I need a bullet in my skull. What the hell would I want him in my life for? I've spent my entire life trying to pretend as if he doesn't exist…”

 

With a deep sigh, Sanzo shook his head. “And then your best friend made you remember he existed and then you spent the other five years pretending she didn't exist either. Tell me, haven't you learned your lesson yet.”

 

Sesshoumaru scoffed deeply and flipped the man off. “Fuck you and your hypocritical bullshit. I don't take lectures from my father and you are far from that.”

 

Sanzo shook his head. “You're right. I'm not your father. I'm your friend, your best friend at that. And tell me just who you are to call me a hypocrite? I resent that remark.”

 

Sesshoumaru glanced at his friend. “You resemble it as well.”

 

Sanzo narrowed his eyes and shook his head. `Fuck off and…” Sanzo nearly immediately shut his mouth and flashed him a grimace of repent. “I didn't mean that…I apologize.”

 

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes. “I told you…a hypocrite. You call yourself a religious man and yet your morals are worse then a common mongrel.”

 

Silence fell between the two. They shared a glance of commiseration before collapsing to the marble steps.

 

Sesshoumaru swallowed hard, his fingers toying with the laces on his black shoes. “I'm here for her…not my brother, if you must know. I could care less if that gutter rat crawled back into the sewer he came from. In fact, a part of me wishes he would. He's been a plague on my house since he surfaced. His mother was the death of mine.”

 

Sanzo turned slowly to glance from the corner of his eye at his friend. “You cannot honestly believe that, can you? You hold your brother…”

 

“Stop calling him that. he is my half brother.”

 

With a wild hand gesture, Sanzo corrected himself. “My apologies, my liege…”

 

Sesshoumaru turned, his brown eyes beginning to kindle with the rising of a raging temper. “Cut your travesties, Sanzo, I am in no need of further stress.”

 

Sanzo sighed and ran a hand through his ear length spiky blond hair. “Fine. You cannot blame your half brother,” he bowed his head towards the other man, as if asking approval, “for his mother's or your father's mistakes. What they did was between them…”

 

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “And it lead to the eventual destruction of my mother…and my life.”

 

Sanzo tilted his head towards the ground and sighed. “I pity that even after all of these trials, you still feel that way, Sesshoumaru.”

 

The man, Sesshoumaru, closed his eyes and rubbed then wearily. “Now is not time for a Buddhist lesson, Priest.”

 

Sanzo inclined his head, the crimson shakra on his head catching the light of the moon. “As you wish. Just…” He paused then shook his head. “Never mind…just come back. Your father has been looking for you.”

 

Sesshoumaru laughed bitterly. “If my father wished to find me, he would have come to Japan. He knew where I was…I had long ago given him my address. It would not be hard to locate me.”

 

Sanzo stood up and brushed off his pants. “I was under the distinct impression they have tried…many times over. You wanted nothing to do with any of them.”

 

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes. “Can you blame me? They betrayed me.”

 

“I think you have it backwards, Sesshoumaru.”

 

Sesshoumaru grit his teeth so hard the bones in his jaw twitched “It's been five years since I've had any contact with this family. They did not come looking, they merely sent letters, trivial bullshit for little children.”

 

Sanzo winced. He had heard the entire story from InuYasha, time and again. The truth was that it was not only letters…it had been private investigators, emails, letters, and more. But he could understand just where Sesshoumaru was coming from. Would it have been different if Kagome had shown up at the office in Tokyo…or in Singapore? Would it have been different if she had walked across country to find him in California or Chicago? The Buddhist priest doubted it. With a rather redundant question, he pushed on. “What about her?”

 

Sesshoumaru's brown eyes darkened as he slowly looked up to the sky. The guilt ate at him like acid. `Has it really been five years since I talked to Kagome? She must have thought I abandoned her.' The pain in his heart spoke words he never wanted to hear…the truth. `You did…right when she needed you the most.'

 

Sanzo grit his teeth and nodded slowly. “So…is that your conviction, your sin?”

 

Sesshoumaru glanced at the man from the corner of his eye. “Forgive me father…for I have sinned…it's been a life time since my last confession.”

 

Sanzo chuckled wryly. “You're talking to the wrong priest for that kind of confession. Maybe you should confess it to yourself though, and believe it this time.”

 

Sesshoumaru sighed, hanging his head, then leaned back to rest against the church wall. Another tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away furiously then cursed. “This is preposterous. This Sesshoumaru does not cry!” he scolded himself out loud.

 

Sanzo opened his mouth to speak then thought otherwise. Taking a moment, he walked to his friend and leaned on the wall next to him. Reaching up, he took the cigarette from his friend and took a long drag. Letting the smoke make trails through the crisp night sky, he slowly prodded, “Do you remember when we first met, Sessh?”

 

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and took back his cigarette, the memory staining his brain like iodine. “No,” he lied.

 

Sanzo smiled in spite of the lie. “I do. Kagome had four kids try to jump her on the playground…fans of yours I suppose.”

 

Sesshoumaru's heart lurched at her name. `Why does this hurt so much?' He knew damn well why. There would be no more nights of a scared little girl tapping on his window, no more days of sitting in his room in security with his arms around her, her resting against his chest watching television...where she was safe; where she wasn't in his arms…where she wasn't likely to be hurt or used…a place where she wasn't under his asinine brother, being fucked like a common whore. Like a glass shattered, all that remained were fragments of memories…and they cut at his heart. With his mouth dry and his throat raw, he forced out, “I…I guess.”

 

Sanzo studied his friends face then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back with the falling rain. He decided to reminisce anyway. “I was in sixth grade…so she was in fourth. It was the year you started middle school, I remember her telling me later. Some kids that were in my grade who had been watching her, I guess, decided to talk to her since you weren't there to scare them away. I was cutting class with Gojyo and Nicholas, we thought we were so cool standing on the side of the school smoking.” He trailed off and stared at the cigarette in his hand. “I can't believe I'm not dead yet, honestly. With as many cartons as I smoke a day…I guess Buddha is taking his time with me.” Shaking his head; he digressed.

 

“They started to shove her, and she proudly shoved back. I know they said some nasty things to her and she was on the verge of tears. Then one slapped her and that's when I jumped in. Nicholas and Gojyo backed me up. I don't think I've ever been in a worse fight, not even in high school. We put two of the kids in to the hospital. I remember you just short of frying my ass when you came with your dad to get her from the principal's office. Then she stuck up for the others and me; hell, she didn't even want you going after the guys who attacked her. That girl…she's something else.”

 

Sesshoumaru's nails bit into his palm. Hearing this was like tearing open a wound with a soldering iron. His already bloodied right fist made contact with the cement of the steps, his face hardly betraying its stoic nature as his nerves screamed in pain. Blood seeped out of his fist, coated his hand and formed a puddle on the steps. “Damnit, Sanzo…I don't want …” He made a face and nearly growled, “I can't…” His voice fell away, as did his strength. Leaning forward, he buried his head in his hands and tried to hide from the world. “I just…can't do this…not now.”

 

Sanzo stared at his friend for a moment, blinked then relented, “I'm sorry…it was inconsiderate towards your conflicting emotions.”

 

Sesshoumaru lifted his head to eye his friend. “Inconsiderate of my emotions? Since when have you given a damn? Next to that…conflicting? My emotions aren't conflicted Sanzo! I know just damn well how I feel! I'm angry…I'm pissed as fuck at that dip shit of a brother of mine. And…I'm…” Knowing that next to him was the one man in the world he couldn't lie to, he sighed deeply. “I'm miserable. I lost my best friend.”

 

Sanzo turned his eyes to the barren streets; since when was Bayside ever this dead? Without looking at his friend, he added, “Today you did not lose your best friend. You lost her when you turned your back and walked away from her for her choice in lover. You exiled her, Sesshoumaru.”

 

Sesshoumaru shook his head firmly, his eyes misting up. “He's not good enough for her…he never was and will never be!”

 

Sanzo piped, “And who was ever good enough for her? You?”

 

Sesshoumaru turned his head indolently, anger surfacing across his face as his lip pulled back into a sneer. “You know damn well our friendship was never anything more then platonic! She was like…like a sibling to me.”

 

Sanzo shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Tapping the box against the heel of his palm, he remained silent. He offered a cigarette to his friend then struck a match to light it up. He lit his friend's and refused to return to the forbidden topic. Never had Sesshoumaru tolerated anyone questioning the merit of his relationship with Kagome. He had started fistfights with men for lesser insinuations then what Sanzo had implied and the priest knew it.

 

The duo sat in the rain in silence, watching it pool at their feet and soak through their suits. Both indulged in another cigarette without any conversation. Bells above chimed…six o'clock. With a grunt, Sanzo extinguished the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. He slowly worked his way to his feet, and then helped Sesshoumaru to his. “Come on…we're going to be late. It will not be appreciated.”

 

 

Sesshoumaru shook his head desperately, his grip on sanity starting to waver. “Just another moment…”

 

“You had your moment. Now it is time to begin. InuYasha will be upset if you aren't there.”

 

Sesshoumaru ripped his arm out of Sanzo's grasp and angrily spat, “May the Kami's forbid that I anger the Prince!”

 

Sanzo sighed, swearing his patience was running thin. “Okay…fine. I am going back inside…you sit out here with your cigarettes and your regrets. I'll say this much…if you don't go into that building, you'll regret this for the rest of your life.”

 

Sesshoumaru wouldn't meet his eyes as he slowly turned his back on his friend and his family.

 

Sanzo shrugged with a roll of his eyes and slowly disappeared into the darkness that had engulfed the entire street like a blanket.

 

Sesshoumaru faintly heard the doors slam shut and winced. Somehow the sound seemed to be of his fate being sealed. He had shunned his family years before, when he felt like his entire life had been turned upside down. He had hated his brother from he first learned of his existence, and he had resented his father even longer. But Kagome…Kagome had always been his guiding light, his beacon of hope. She was by his side for eighteen years. Now…. Sesshoumaru felt his chest constrict again, the pang of heartache tearing away the remaining pieces of his soul.

 

Slowly, the six foot four giant slumped to his knees, his face turned towards the heavens. As if begging the rain to wash away his sins, waiting for the gods to tell him how to move on…he held out his arms and prayed. He prayed for the angel of death to steal him away, take him from the pain. He was sure that his heart was breaking. The world around him seemed to fade to black as his eyes focused on the building across from the dreary little church. Soon, that building to became hazy then faded into the nothingness that consumed Sesshoumaru as memories began to overwhelm him. The waves crashed over his head like a drowning man in a raging storm.

 

Sesshoumaru teeteredon the edge of sanity, being supported by the weakest of strings. It was like watching his entire life flash before his eyes in a decrepit movie theater, being nailed to the seat forced to watch as his life fell apart in front of his eyes. The pain was too much, the agony and self-hatred that had festered for years overflowed and his soul screamed. As he slipped from the conscious world, the voice of the little girl he knew once upon a time washed back to him, `life is but…a dream.'

 

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~*~ a special thanks to my betas; you guys are great!