InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Inevitable ❯ Reticence ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer: I own a hat. A really nice hat, too. But I don't own Inuyasha.

 

Author's Note: Hope everybody had a very happy Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza and a very happy New Year! Aside from the flu infecting myself and other various family members throughout the holidays, mine went well enough.

 

Apologies for the long duration of my not-updating - procrastination is really not your friend.

 

And last, but not least, I must thank Wendy for her superb beta job, as it always is. This story would be incomplete without her.

 

 

Inevitable

 

Chapter 12

Reticence

 

 

 

I hadn't been in the mood for tea, but by the time I had been helped out onto the veranda, Hiroshi-san had already ordered a fresh pot to be brought out, and he had even poured my cup himself, so any protesting on my part would have been extremely rude and disrespectful. Besides, at the time my mood had hardly been in a state of security, and his show of kindness to me had been more touching than I would have thought.

 

I had not yet eaten that day, however, and after the former day's bout of nausea and all horridness in general, my stomach felt so empty that it cramped. I was beginning to feel lightheaded, but I listened silently to Hiroshi-san's prattle anyway, too timid and stubborn to ask for food, not to mention for worry of being disrespectful.

 

However, Hiroshi-san had already anticipated my hunger, and a simple bowl of miso soup was brought for both he and I. The soup had eased my stomach's ache, but it hardly dissipated it completely, and I had sat there, mutely resigned.

 

Congenial and apt for conversation as ever, the old samurai had chatted on amiably for a good part of an hour, although I can hardly recall much of it now, except that at one point he did mention that the typhoon season seemed to be picking up that year.

 

But as the simple meal had drawn to a close, a tiny knot of dread began twisting in my gut; as I knew the real reason for which Hiroshi-san had bothered to spend this time with me, other than the politeness and honour in general, would soon surface from beneath his smiling façade.

 

More ocha was brought, and I quickly poured his cup to be polite, and he returned the favour, smiling at me. But despite his toothy grin that I had always found so infectious before then, I could not return the expression in earnest, and that knot of dread kept curling away.

 

“You look much improved, Kagome-san,” he'd said, for what must have been the fifth time that day. But in his tone, I caught an edge that cut at the knot in my stomach, and a sharp pang seared up my throat.

 

Unable to verbalize a reply, I bowed my head respectfully.

 

He smiled. “The past three days have treated you well.”

 

“Three da…” I tried to catch myself, but the words had already slipped.

 

“Ah, of course, 'so sorry, you would not remember such a thing,” he went on smoothly.

 

My mouth had opened to say something to respond, but he was chattering on again, observing two arguing sparrows as he did so.

 

“Kaede-san was very enthusiastic to ensure your lodging here - much better ventilation here. Ah, yes…she did frequent your room very often the first day, and Inuyasha-san came to see you once -”

 

“When? I - I mean…'so sorry, please…please forgive my outburst, Hiroshi-sama,” I blushed deeply.

 

He blinked once, appearing more amused than angered, and then he waved his hand casually, brushing it aside. “Ah, no, no; no need to apologize, Kagome-san. Inuyasha-san came the day following your original placement here. Inuyasha-san was very concerned for Kagome-san's condition.”

 

My tongue felt strangely thick in my mouth, and forming a tiny smile and nodding was a great deal harder than one would expect. The feeling in my gut only tightened, and my feelings in regards to…him, were hardly swayed.

 

I'd sipped my ocha. I remember it being hot.

 

“How is…Inuyasha-san doing now, if I may ask, Hiroshi-san?”

 

“Ah, Inuyasha-san is not here, Kagome-san. 'So sorry.”

 

I'd wondered where he could have possibly gone, and I felt something entwine itself in the quickly tightening knot.

 

“I see. How - how was he when…how was Inuyasha-san the last time you saw him, Hiroshi-san?”

 

“Very bad, Kagome-san. Terrible.”

 

“Ah - yes. Of course.”

 

“Inuyasha-san insisted he was not sick and was very intent upon leaving,” he'd paused and taken a sip of ocha. “Inuyasha-san said he had business to take care of and left soon after seeing Kagome-san.”

 

“Ah…did…” I trailed off. It would be rude to ask what this “business” of his was, and Hiroshi-san was much too polite to have asked him as it was.

 

“Inuyasha-san did not say.”

 

“Ah.” Then I had sipped my ocha, horrid thoughts tripping through my mind, all the while beneath Hiroshi-san's discreet gaze that had me crawling beneath my skin amid the chaos.

 

“More ocha, Kagome-san?”

 

“Ah, yes, please, thank you, Hiroshi-san.”

 

“It is a beautiful day, is it not?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Very good weather, this past week. But the storms will be bad this year - yes, very bad.”

 

“How so, Hiroshi-san?”

 

“Ah, very bad feeling in my bones, yes. Too many seasons I've lived through - my body's learned the weather.”

 

“Yes, of course.” And then I'd laughed, I believe, but it had sounded so fake to me. I wonder if Hiroshi-san had noticed. I believe he would have.

 

“Perhaps Kagome-san will feel apt to a stroll around the garden? Do you think your legs would permit you to do so?”

 

“Ah, I believe so, Hiroshi-san. Thank you.”

 

He'd helped me up, and surprised me with the strength in his hands. But samurai don't carry swords around as decoration; of course he'd be strong.

 

The details, though many are so sharp they surprise even me with their clarity, that walk is very hazy now, but I can recall the lovely sounds of the birds twittering among the branches, flitting to and fro. I remember the peace, the feeling of tranquility and safety, the comforting presence of Hiroshi-san at my elbow, the tiny fish that sparkled in colours of orange beneath the surface of the pond. I remember that.

 

At one point, Hiroshi-san had turned to me and said, “How was Inuyasha-san, last time you saw him?”

 

A silence had stretched and pulled away the words. The question was bolder than most I'd ever received from the aging man, but I'd felt obligated to tell him - something, anything, to help explain everything even though I'd doubted that he'd understand.

 

“Very bad, Hiroshi-san. Very bad.”

 

And then the brisk steps of a servant had intruded upon our short excursion, and bowing at Hiroshi-san's feet, I can still hear the girl's words in my head.

 

“Please excuse me, Hiroshi-sama, but Inuyasha-sama is requesting Kagome-sama's presence.”