InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Little Red ❯ Almost There ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Honestly? I can't seam to find the time to write, not until my damned muses came and totally drop kicked me anime style! …Seriously, if you knew what went on in my head…well…never mind!

 

Anyway, I know it's short, but it's an update right? RIGHT?! *walks off stage sulking*

 

~*~*~*~*

 

He really didn't want to go back to the hotel yet. Honestly he didn't want to ever go back, everything in the place reminded him of exactly why he was here, to search out Inuyasha, and tell his father the hanyou's location. God, when had it gone from schoolyard bullying to plotting his death? The line he had crossed somewhere in his life had been invisible to him.

 

He traced his fingers over the faded gold insignia on the cover of the small journal, feeling the familiar pressure in the center of his chest. Taking deep breaths he sat on the top of a low wall, waiting for it to pass.

 

Pulling the small booklet from his pocket he studied the worn golden pattern before opening it to the first page, inhaling faint traces of that all too familiar scent. It wasn't as strong as it was years ago, but it was all he had left. Everything else had been destroyed by his father for carrying the hanyou's stench.

 

He only carried the journal around as an anchor. Proof that he hadn't created Inuyasha from his own need to be understood, but also as a means to separate himself from his father's world, a reminder of the consequences that came with getting everything your way. He didn't have to read the faded, delicate writing to know what it said, the passage completely memorized and filed somewhere in his brain.

 

Dad died today.

 

It was the first line on the page, the line that caught his attention that day when he found the journal on the floor in the classroom. The ugly black book stank of Inuyasha, so he picked it up, intending to use it against Inuyasha. But when he read that line, those thoughts left him. Inuyasha's dad was dead?

 

He continued.

 

Everybody says it's because he was protecting me and mom, he died because I was hanyou…

 

He almost dropped the book then, uncertain if he should even trust his own eyes as he read Inuyasha's inner thoughts. Inuyasha was only half demon?!

 

He continued to read the passage explaining how he was treated in Japan during the time of the Unveiling. Italy had gone through the violence pretty quickly, but it was still difficult, conservatives openly showing their prejudices, both human and youkai, but Kouga had heard about the inner war in Japan, lasting the longest out of them all.

 

Inuyasha recalled that night with acute detail; it was like he was reading a horror story rather than a journal. Did he really go through that? Shaking he shoved the book in his pocket and ran out, heading for home.

 

With a sigh he looked up at the dark sky, the city lights overshadowing any truly beautiful sights that might have cheered him up slightly.

 

That's when he caught it, just a lingering scent, so very faint among the exhaust fumes and the odor of nearby restaurants, the smell that had clung to the fading pages for all these years, caressing his nostrils and swimming through his mind like a friendly dolphin, playful and teasing.

 

Something was different though…something changed in the scent. His excitement quickly faded. What if it wasn't really him?

 

No, it was him, it had to be! Kouga headed in the direction the scent was coming from in a brisk walk, all but running in the anticipation of finding the one he's searched for all these years. He lost the scent twice, three times confusing the faint trail with the small traces remaining on the tiny book in his pocket.

 

He must have circled the block ten times, but he couldn't pinpoint the location. Every time he thought he was nearby, the smell so strong he could turn around and Inuyasha would be standing right there, once he got to where it was strongest it disappeared. Completely vanished, overpowered by the flowery scent of the gardens surrounding the houses on that particular side of the street.

 

With a resigned sigh he collapsed, leaning back against the south wall of the gated house, breathing in the mixed scents of the flowers, his misery seeing into him heavier than ever. Building up so much hope and then losing it all in a matter of moments was exhausting. sighing again he tilted his head back to once again look at the dark sky, the painful emptiness within him all but consuming.