InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Memento Mori ❯ Interlude ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Author’s Note: Due to overwhelming reader response of the best kind : ) I’ve decided to extend this universe. I still believe the original oneshot stands up quite well on its own, so consider this ‘bonus’ material.

This is a short interlude from Inuyasha’s point of view. Ironically (or not?) this was also originally entered as a contest piece.

Want to see the ultimate author’s notes for this piece? Visit me at LJ! Explanations, clarifications, spoilers available!

Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media. Lyric from “Bridge Over Troubled Water” © 1969 Paul Simon



This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He was Inuyasha Tashiro! He had big plans for his life; he had better things to do than worry about all this high school bullshit. 13 years he’d be subjected to the scorn of his peers – for being different, for being a loner, for being himself – and he was so close to escaping it. Two more months, and he’d be free of this prison, his own personal hell.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was another inane homework project, which his history teacher seemed fond of assigning. The scope of freedom was nice, for a change; he didn’t mind having to put forth the effort if he was investigating something interesting. Best of all, he was paired with Miss Perfect, Miss Never-Less-Than-the-Best-Mark-that-Screws-up-the-Rest-of-the-Curve, Kagome Higurashi herself! So, he was destined to have a good mark before he graduated, after all!

Sweet.

He enjoyed their time together, working on said project. She was fun to tease and easy to flirt with…especially when she lost the plot and flirted back. Someone who commanded the social stratosphere as she did usually knew it, never bothering to look down their nose at someone as ‘lowly’ as him. She wasn’t pretentious in the least, and seemed genuinely interested in his ideas.

He didn’t know what brought it on; why he felt compelled to comfort her in the middle of a raging thunderstorm (didn’t she have a boyfriend for just that reason?), or why he let it go as far as it did. He’d never much been interested in romantic relationships with girls his own age – after all, the alternative music crowd generally skewed a bit higher on the age demographic – but he was pretty powerless to resist when she threw herself in his lap under the library table.

Or maybe that’s just what he told himself?

He could sense it: her fear, her desperation, her longing…for him. It kinda blew his mind, truth be told, how someone like her could be interested in someone like him. They were from completely different worlds, rarely crossing paths in the last six years. If they hadn’t been partnered on this project, would they have ever exchanged more than passing pleasantries?

But, he wasn’t one to question fate.

He lived his life in his own way; what happened between them was exactly that – between them. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t wanted to. In that moment, the chemistry was right. They connected on some level beyond mere physicality, and it was quite precious to him. He knew he’d not easily forget such an encounter.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to take her virginity.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either. On the one hand – what an ego boost! On the other – holy shit, she had a boyfriend. A long-term boyfriend, a nice, safe, decent guy she’d probably end up marrying. He felt like the ultimate prick when he thought of it that way…

So he didn’t.

And that was the end. Their project was finished. They got an A. She turned to him that day after class and stroked his hair and told him goodbye. Did she know what she was saying? He suspected so. She was a Somebody in this little microcosm, whereas he was decidedly a Nobody. He could see the indecision in her eyes as she stared up at him, the slight exasperation as her boyfriend interrupted their moment.

She was afraid, and she was going back to her ‘old’ self. She was going back to being Miss Perfect, a stodgy, responsible girl who knew her place, her path, her plan.

Not that he could blame her; he had plans of his own. He wasn’t disappointed that she didn’t turn away from her life for him; frankly, he would’ve been upset if she had done that. She was her own person, and he could respect that.

But he didn’t say good-bye; he couldn’t. Something held him back from saying those final words.

The reason why hit him a few days later.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Miroku was going to give him such hell for this.

He could hardly believe he was here, either; after all, hadn’t it been him that proclaimed proms were nothing more than “social herding exercises”? Not two weeks earlier, no less? And yet, here he was, drawn like a moth to a flame, a curious cat to a rocking chair.

Yes, he deserved every bit of ribbing that was coming his way, especially if he ran into his perverted friend.

Inuyasha ducked into the ballroom of the exclusive Imperial Hotel, a sprawling complex of a building that was originally commissioned to be the first European-style hotel in the city. Only by the grace of God – and the lubrication of the property owners’ hands by some of the school’s more ‘elite’ families – was the class able to score one of the ballrooms.

It was appropriate, really; a Western-themed venue for a Western-styled event.

The room was decorated in shades of blues and silvers; the theme was some sort of strange cross between “Under the Sea” and “Space Exploration”, if the favors were anything to go by. Just standing there made Inuyasha want to puke, but he told himself he wouldn’t have to stay for very long. He had only come for one very specific reason, a curiosity that could be satisfied with a mere glance, and then he was free to run screaming in the opposite direction.

He wandered along the fringe of the crowd of classmates that had already gathered; the night was still young, and couples were streaming in the doors at a steady pace. He was content to stay in the shadows and observe. Surely, she would be here by now…

It was stupid, his reason for wanting to come here. Really, when the hell was any decent guy ever interested in a girl’s frilly, formal dress? Maybe at his own wedding, maybe, but otherwise? Unless the guy was intending to wear one himself, there seemed to be little point…

…but he couldn’t help to overhear her conversation with her three best girlfriends that day at school, where they were all gushing about this amazing dress she was having custom-made just for this event. Senior Prom was apparently Serious Business, for those in the know. He would’ve just dismissed it as fashionable girl talk, but the more they went on about it, the more curious he became. He’d never really seen her out of her school uniform (quite the amazing feat, considering their history), but the dress sounded pretty enticing. Form fitting, spaghetti straps, possibly silvery?

Oh, hell yes. This he had to see.

He moved on silent feet, dodging the knots of people clustered against the walls. After completing a turn around the expansive room, he was ready to give up. He hadn’t seen her, and he was growing increasingly annoyed by the theme, the music, the snide conversation of his classmates, which filled his senses to capacity. He’d been there all of fifteen minutes and was ready to leave. How the hell could they stand it for two or three hours?!

Just as he was about to say, “fuck it,” and leave…she arrived. His heart literally skipped a beat as she walked through the door, a vision in ice blue. Her smile was as radiant as her dress, which was indeed as promised (mostly): a long, sparkling concoction with a fitted bodice, sweetheart neckline, and thin straps that sat elegantly on her shoulders. Her hair was piled atop her head in some sort of complicated hairstyle, adorned with silver combs.

Inuyasha’s mouth went dry as he stared, the rest of the room falling silent around him. He had no words for it: she was absolutely…exquisitely…stunningly…breathtaking.

And so far away from being his that it was painful.

Not until that moment in time did he admit to himself just how hard he’d fallen for her. Their project was in the past – they’d barely spoken to each other beyond simple ‘hellos’ since. They didn’t travel in the same circles at all, but she’d always been there, in the back of his mind, an integral part of one of his fondest memories.

She was out of his league – he knew it, accepted it, didn’t really much care about it – until now.

Something snapped within him as he stood there, watching her sweet, steady boyfriend enfold her in his arms and lead her away, further into the crowd, into their social strata. Memories of that night washed over him as something akin to possessiveness coursed through his veins. He wanted her –

– she’d wanted him, kissed him, begged for him, held him tightly, cried when torn away from him –

– he wanted her, and he couldn’t have her. He’d lost his chance…or did he ever really have one in the first place?

His chest constricted, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. He clenched his teeth and his fists, willing himself to calm down enough to leave. He’d done what he came here to do.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He stepped out into the cool night air, taking a few grateful breaths. He had every intention of leaving this scene, but something held him in place. He wandered through the alley behind the main building of the hotel, trying to sort out his feelings. He regretted it – coming here – but all the same, he didn’t. He didn’t begrudge her happiness or success or love…mostly, he just wished he could’ve been a part of it instead of on the outside, looking in.

He didn’t know how long he lingered there, trying to clear his head. As he made the slow turn back toward the door of the ballroom – he stopped.

Kagome leaned against the wall near the door, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly.

He could only stare at her, not believing his eyes, his mind racing as it sorted possibilities. Why was she standing there? Alone? What could’ve possibly happened to melt her radiant smile into a pool of tears?

Slowly, he walked towards her, uncertain what – if anything – he could say in comfort.

She glanced up as he approached, wiping her tears away as she straightened. “Inuyasha,” she whispered, licking her lips. “What are you doing here?”

He dropped a small smile. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he replied, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She looked down again, folding her arms across her chest. She didn’t seem inclined to say anything, and he felt no urge to push her, to find out why she was outside.

Crying.

Alone.

His arm slipped around her shoulders, and she fell against him, tears still trickling down her cheeks. He felt her hands drift down to his waist, which made him tighten his own embrace.

“I’ve made a mess of it,” she said a moment later, glancing up. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, well, it did happen,” he replied. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

She laid her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know,” she sighed.

He simply held her, realizing – this was her decision. She was back on that precipice, looking over the edge of her own life, teetering on the brink of a life-altering decision. Maybe it would include him, maybe it wouldn’t. He knew what he wanted…could she say the same thing?

A light drizzle began to fall, interrupting their serene moment. She pulled away suddenly, turning, reaching for the door –

She glanced back at him as she stepped inside, her expression telling him what she couldn’t say out loud, giving his heart another reason to gallop in his chest. “Thanks for not saying goodbye,” she said, the door closing, cutting her off from him once again.