InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity ❯ Restless ( Chapter 6 )

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Atop the roof of the shrine, InuYasha huddled in the shadows. Cursing himself for having stooped to this, he couldn't quite bring himself to move away, either. After all was said and done, his damned brother and that double damned kitsune had all but made him swear on his mother's grave that he wouldn't upset Kagome, that he wouldn't remind her who she was or who he was . . . or what she meant to him.

'Fuck them, anyway.' InuYasha stifled a growl low in his throat and dug his claws into the roofing. From where he sat, he could smell Kagome's scent wafting to him. She'd bathed no longer than a few hours ago.  He could smell the soap on her, that foreign floral scent that veiled the baser scent of her. After her baths he tried to avoid going anywhere near her. The scent of those flowers on her warm skin was enough to send his senses into a whirl of heady pleasure that bordered on frustrated longing. How often had he wanted to draw her close, to hold her next to his heart so tightly that she would know what she meant to him, how much she meant to him? Always too worried, with his gaze trained on the shadows, watching for the stirrings of enemies or threats . . . Always a little too reluctant, a little too proud to open himself up, a little too scared that she just didn't feel the same way about him . . . He had never done it. He really wished he had.

He sighed softly. She was so close and yet he dared not go to her. As it was, he had to jump out the second story window of the bedroom at Sesshoumaru's mausoleum he called home. Every time he had gotten near the front door, he'd been caught and duly reprimanded, and his trip across the city?

Somehow he hadn't noticed just how noisy it was, just how confusing it could be, and just how out of place he felt as he'd tried to find his way back to the shrine.  Mindful of the reaction he'd gotten before when he'd get down on his hands and knees, trying to locate scents on the grayish slabs of manmade rocks that they called sidewalks, he'd spent an hour trying to find his way before he'd noticed the postcard on a street vendor's table—the shrine, and he'd grudgingly asked the guy sitting behind the table if he knew where it was.

Damned if he'd realized that it was going to take so much to get used to this time, this city.  Flashing lights that were as bright as daylight . . . the myriad of smells that converged into an indistinguishable stench . . . so many sounds that overlapped each other into a jumble of white noise that culminated in a throbbing behind his temples . . . It all combined in his head to create an overwrought strain on his senses, but somehow the mere proximity to her was enough to alleviate the strain, enough to remind him just why he'd chosen to jump into the well when he had known that there would be no going back . . .

Ears flattening against his skull, InuYasha had to stifle his growl of frustration. Kagura had been livid when she'd gotten home and discovered that InuYasha had unwittingly shattered her collection of crystal animals. Shippou—the ass—had barely been able to hide his own amusement as InuYasha had sat there, dumbstruck, while Kagura brought the roof down on his head with her ranting and raving about his inability to control his temper. He had to admit, however grudgingly, that he was glad that Kagura hadn't had her fan at the time. She was mad enough that she likely would have sent her Fujin no Mai at him for the perceived transgression.

Sesshoumaru, at least, had looked a little sympathetic, or so InuYasha had thought. He hadn't known what to make of that until his bastard of a brother laughed and muttered something about being glad that it was someone else on the receiving end of Kagura's formidable ire.

It was hard to understand, he had to admit. He was used to things he could touch, taste, smell. The implications of Kagome's memory loss were harder to deal with. That the jewel was now dormant and had been purified, as Shippou said, was confusing enough but something that InuYasha could accept. He, himself, knew what Kagome had wished. The low growl that escaped his throat couldn't be helped. Why had she done that? Why had she wished Kikyou back?  The only thing he could think of, though, was his upset after they'd defeated Naraku, as he'd watched as Kikyou was taken away again, leaving him unable to say goodbye to her—again.  Had Kagome misinterpreted it?  Had she thought . . .?

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he muttered as he dug his claws in deeper, resisting the desire to race over to Kagome and demand an answer.  Heaving an abrupt sigh as the anger left him as quickly as it had come, he scowled in the night.  That's exactly what had happened, wasn't it?  Of course, if he were to be completely objective, then he'd have to admit that it wasn't really surprising.  How often had he let her down over Kikyou before . . .? Still . . . It didn't really take away from the bitterness of his own emotions, though, did it?  He reached up to touch the prayer beads and remembered with a sick feeling that he no longer had them.

How could she not remember? For two years, they had spent all their time together. She'd wheedled out his secrets in that time, driven him crazy with her silly antics and often prying ways, even if he had to acknowledge that her heart was always in the right place, even when he'd have rather that she let things alone. In those months, though—that two year time span, she'd taught him how to trust and how to have friends. She showed him how to believe in something greater than himself. She led him to the knowledge that there were beautiful things in the world worth dying for . . . like her.

Kagome.

InuYasha sighed, as the unwelcome intrusion of a painful memory fleshed out in his head.    She had nearly died, the closest she'd come to being lost to him forever.  Worse than a close call or a near miss.  That one time . . . He thought she was dead. Had it not been for Myouga, the flea demon, she would have died. It was one of the few times that InuYasha could remember being truly thankful for the oftentimes useless retainer.

He couldn't remember the first time he had realized how precious Kagome was to him. Now he realized that he'd taken for granted that she would always be there. She'd promised, after all. She'd given her word. He thought that she had known how much he relied on her. He thought that she had known what his feelings were. After all, she always seemed to know what he was thinking, even when he had trouble expressing those feelings.  Hell, Sango and that pervert, Miroku had known.  For that matter, Shippou and Kaede had known, too.  Come to think of it, perfect strangers had figured it out easily enough, so how the fuck could she not have?  Why hadn't Kagome?

He sighed as the girl in question lifted her face heavenward, eyes closed, her chest expanding as she breathed so deeply. The ache in his heart worsened, and he winced as a splinter of roofing slid way up under his claw, piercing his flesh. He dug his claws in more, and the splinter wedged in even deeper. The scent of his own blood hit him hard, and he dragged in the heady scent, savoring it in a wholly primitive, entirely primal, way.

Minutes passed—or were they hours—as he kept his vigil. Kagome made no move to return to the house. She slumped to the side, letting her temple rest against the rough bark. Goshinboku cradled her as InuYasha could only sit back and watch. The tree mocked him, taunted him in the ancient language that InuYasha barely recognized. The arch of her neck glowed with a bluish tint in the kind but wan light of the full moon, and InuYasha breathed deep. The scent of wildflowers had subsided. Instead he smelled the richness of her balmy skin, so pale in the darkness. A shocking wave of rampant lust hit him hard. He groaned softly, digging in his claws again, repressing the overwhelming desire to go to her. She shined brighter than the Shikon no Tama in a cool blue aura of the night that resounded with her miko power. If she had forgotten about him, had she also forgotten about that?

If the past had happened, and the jewel had been purified, why didn't Kagome remember? It made no sense, damn it . . . and why didn't anyone else seem to remember—Kagome's family and so-called friends?  None of them thought that it was strange, either?  They didn't think it was completely fucked up that she'd be dating a weakling like that damned Houjou?  Shippou had sworn that Kagome hadn't missed even a day of school, but how could that possibly be?  He'd heard often enough, hadn't he?  How often had she despaired over missing one test or another, and while InuYasha couldn't rightfully give a damn about those, she certainly had, and, in turn, she'd let him know in no uncertain terms what she thought of his perceived lack of concern over something that meant a lot to her.  Still, Shippou had chosen to be a teacher in hopes that he could cover up Kagome's mysterious absences, but it hadn't been needed. Why?

Leaning back against the attic wall behind him, InuYasha moved Tetsusaiga away from his side and wrapped his arms around the weapon, idly stroking the sword as he continued to stare at Kagome. He could feel his eyes glowing. If she looked his way, would she see him? He willed her to remember, desperately prayed to every god, every entity that he knew or could make up. He wanted to see that smile she reserved just for him, just one last time.

A subtle shift in her scent drew him upright. InuYasha frowned. Kagome hadn't moved at all since she leaned against the tree, but the scent that came to him now moved him forward out of the shadows as he quietly leaped down and then up into Goshinboku. It was a scent that he knew only too well after two years.

She slept.

"Kagome," he murmured softly, leaning forward to breathe in her scent. His nose nearly touched her hair. Luckily, though, after spending so much time with her, he also knew that once sleeping, not much outside of a minor act of the kami would wake her, either.

He settled back on the branch and carefully pulled Kagome into his arms, settling her head against his chest. Common sense told him that he should take her back to her room, but after everything that he'd been through in the course of one day, InuYasha didn't quite have it inside him to relinquish his hold on her yet.

He wrapped his arms around her, the long arms of his haori serving as a blanket for her. She sighed happily in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. A low growl escaped him, and he blinked almost guiltily as he glanced down at the sleeping girl in his arms. She didn't even flinch.

InuYasha held her close until the damp chill of the predawn air permeated his senses. In a couple of hours, it would be daylight, and Kagome would be waking up for real. There was no help for it, he supposed as he stifled the urge to sigh and gathered her into his arms. He lit on the ground and quickly jumped again, landing neatly on the ledge outside her window. Thanking his luck that she had left it open, InuYasha carefully maneuvered her through the opening.

She didn't stir as he laid her on her bed and dragged her covers up to her chin. He cocked his head to the side and smiled slightly as he watched her expression. Then he sank down on the floor beside the bed and folded his hands together on the coverlet, letting his chin fall onto them as he watched over her. He'd done this every night. In the two years that they'd been near constant companions, it had become second nature to him, to watch over her, to protect her, first as the miko who guarded the Shikon no Tama, and later . . . to protect Kagome—the woman—instead.

When the first red fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, InuYasha sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her.  If he had his way about it, he'd sit down again and wait for her to wake up.  If it hadn't made that damned promise . . . Well, if he couldn't do what he wanted to do, maybe he'd go back to the mansion and pick a fight with someone instead.  It wasn't exactly the better of the options, but given his current mood, it might be the most fulfilling . . . Pausing with his hands on either side of the window frame, he spared a moment to look back at the sleeping girl.  'Remember me, Kagome,' he thought with a marked scowl.  'Remember me soon.'  After a deep breath, he let himself out of the window and started out at a run through the shrine grounds.