InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Inevitable ❯ Perpetuation ( Chapter 13 )

Disclaimer: Creativity to devise a catchy, humourous disclaimer to simply state the fact that the ownership of the manga/anime Inuyasha does not fall to me, but to that of Rumiko Takahashi, has left me.

 

Author's Note: Fast(er than usual) update. Because I'm nice (but evil). Blame Vivaldi's Four Seasons; L'estate (summer) III: Presto. Ah - the tension in that piece.

 

And let's not forget Wendy, whom we all love and worship for her masterful beta-reading.

 

 

Inevitable

 

Chapter 13

Perpetuation

 

 

These days, when sometimes I get lonely and nostalgic, especially about things I never had, or barely had, I'll think of Hiroshi-san. He reminds me of my father - someone I had, once, but barely.

 

Still bowing with her eyes to the ground, the servant girl didn't say a word as the long seconds had ticked past, Hiroshi-san appearing neutral save for his eyes that had gone into contemplation. After a time, he had turned his face to me, eyes clear and unclouded but hiding everything and nothing. He was so good at that.

 

“Hana-ichi, please tell Inuyasha-san that I will see him shortly,” he'd said, still looking at me.

 

That had made my stomach flip and dance among the organs.

 

The girl lifted her head just enough to stare at Hiroshi-san as if to say: “but…”.

 

He nodded then, before any silent protest on her part could dissipate his decision, and she bowed once more, low, and then scurried off, her geta click-clicking as she ran up the steps of the veranda.

 

“Hiroshi-san…” the sounds spilled off my tongue, the words that would have followed trapped and left behind in my throat, stuck.

 

“I will ask a maid to ready a bath for you, Kagome-san. You will want one after so long, yes?”

 

Lodged and unmovable, the words I wished to say could not be called forth, and all that had managed to wheedle their way past was, “y - yes, of course. How generous of you.” `Hiroshi - generous. How ironic.'

 

“Come now, Kagome-san, smile. It is such a beautiful day. Come, come.”

 

`Yes', and I smiled a fake smile just to please him, and let him assist me back to the house and up the small steps and inside, where he called loudly for servants and issued orders in a genial but firm way until all the necessary staff members were doing their necessary tasks, and he handed me over to a plump and rosy-cheeked maid.

 

Hiroshi-san had patted my hand, so gently and so kindly, as if he were soothing a crying child. But then, I was a crying child, except no one could see my tears but him, and his gentle pat wiped almost all of them away.

 

“You will feel better now, child, a bath will do you well,” he said, smiling, so gracious, always so gracious. A perfect host.

 

I'd wanted to say `thank you', and when I say `thank you' I mean thank you, not just domo arigatou gozaimasu, but thank you, something beyond words that I didn't know how to reach, how to wrap my fingers around and open them up to show him, to place it in his hand so he could hold onto it and never lose it, so he would always know, always remember.

 

But all I'd said was, “Yes, thank you. Thank you.” And then he'd turned away and walked from the room, screen door sliding behind him, and the maid was then leading me away, holding me steady upon my feet.

 

Somehow, though, I think that Hiroshi-san did understand. He just never showed me at the time. He rarely ever did something like that.

 

A bath had been such a wonderful idea, the steaming water hot and easing me into its wet and humid embrace. My jelly legs dissolved in the water, and I sunk onto the seat as if my ass was a rock.

 

You would think that it's funny I remember something as trivial as a bath, but whenever I have nothing else to do all that there is left is to remember, and after a while you get really good at it and remember all the stupid things you thought you forgot.

 

Besides, it's not so much the bath I remember as the door being ripped open and being confronted by none other than a gasping servant, struggling to talk through his loud breathing. All the servants attending me scrambled around hastily as suddenly an air of frigidness crept through the dank air of the bathhouse.

 

All the women had surrounded him, and I'd wondered if they planned to suffocate him so that they could fix his awful breathing permanently. What a morbid thought that was.

 

It was only when I'd noticed the blood trickling down his leg and staining his kimono that my heart had really begun to speed up, nearly choking me and causing my breath to falter.

 

The image of Hiroshi-san closing the screen door behind him flashed through my mind, as if I rode on a merry-go-round that never stopped and the image just kept on flashing and flashing as I spun continuously, around and around and never stopping.

 

“What happened?!”

 

I hadn't realized that my legs had actually solidified and straightened or that I'd shouted until the words had already flung themselves between the servants and the newly arrived one, forcing them apart to stare at me, almost agape.

 

Then I'd realized that I was naked, and the bleeding man was transfixed and still in shock from whatever had happened that had injured his leg, but he was staring at my boobs.

 

“Ack!” I'd shrieked, practically plunging myself back into the hot water, my weak legs slipping and sending me underwater in a storm of bubbles.

 

Now, I've only fallen into baths a couple of times, but dear gods, when I say we Japanese like our baths hot, I mean we like them hot, hot as in “scalding”, as a tourist once said to me at WacDonald's. And, though I'm sure this is common knowledge, scalding-hot water on your face is not pleasant.

 

It was barely two seconds before I'd been pulled out of the bath and wrapped in a kimono and sat down on the floor, still coughing and my face still burning.

 

Weak though I was, I had barely waited to catch my breath before I was lurching to my feet and gripping the servant by his collar and demanding information lest he wanted…well, I can't really remember the length of that list of threats I'd used, but all I have to say about it now is that I was being irrational and was highly stressed at the time.

 

“What happened? What! Why are you bleeding - was it him? Oh gods, no, no - don't, don't tell me I don't want to know who just…”

 

I had to take a breath to steady myself. The poor man was petrified. Actually, no, he'd hardly been a man, more of a boy coming into manhood. Younger than me, at the time.

 

“What happened?” I tried again, this time using a soothing tone, or what I was attempting to pass off as soothing.

 

“I - well I…”

 

“Spit it out!” I lost my control.

 

He trembled. “Please - it was my own fault, forgive me Kagome-sama! I angered him!”

 

“…What?” Why was he begging me, I'd wondered.

 

A tremor in the corner of his lips.

 

“I - I insulted him, I - I said…I said…”

 

I could almost feel the bile rising in my throat, tasting of fear. “Who? Who is he? Tell me.”

 

One of his eyes opened to peer at me, the eyelid next to vibrating as was the rest of him. “It…Inuyasha-sama, lady. It was Inuyasha-sama.” Suddenly he seemed almost calm.

 

“What?” Except I hadn't really said it like a question - more like a confused statement, bordering on query.

 

His head came in contact with the floor to show his shame. “I insulted him,” he whispered.

 

“When - when did this happen?” I demanded.

 

“Not long ago, Kagome-sama.” He was speaking clearly now. “It was as he was leaving Hiroshi-sama's house.”

 

“Leaving…?” And then my breath had eased like a sweet release from my chest, and my eyes closed almost in prayer. If he'd been leaving Hiroshi-san's than surely he had not harmed him.

 

My eyes flew open.

 

But - but then, if the boy had come running here and had rushed in so desperately then -

 

My thoughts had not been able to complete themselves, however, because at that moment a tall shadow had fallen across the tiles, looming in the doorway. And I did not need to look up to confirm because someone else had already spoken his name.