InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity ❯ Echoes of the Past ( Chapter 29 )

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

"I still don't think you should be making me dinner. You're the one who should be celebrating, not cooking," InuYasha pointed out with a decisive snort. Arms crossed over his chest, the hanyou looked sorely affronted that she would be flitting about, making his meal.

"I want to do this," Kagome replied as she dug out a cookie sheet to put the rolls on for baking. "Besides that, my mom would have been upset if we had gone out to dinner without them, too."

"Well, she's got a point. It isn't every day you finish school, is it?"

Kagome stopped her task long enough to shoot him a quick grin. "I know. Weird, isn't it? I can't believe I've graduated."

He shrugged with what he hoped was convincing nonchalance. "You decided against going to the university?"

Kagome slipped the rolls into the oven and carefully stirred the contents of the wok. "Well, I thought maybe I'd take some classes at the junior college and stick closer to home."

It relieved him to know that Kagome wasn't thinking of leaving home to study further. If that was what she'd wanted, he would have had to find a reason to go with her, especially if she had chosen to attend a school further away. That she hadn't . . . He'd just consider himself lucky and leave it at that.

"Can I help with anything?" he offered slowly.

Kagome stopped and eyed him with a slight frown. "I can get it," she said. She moved around the kitchen with remarkable ease. InuYasha couldn't help but appreciated it. "I want to do this."

"Kagome . . ."

She shooed him out of the kitchen with a wave of her hands. Dammit made a noise suspiciously close to a snort. Kagome either didn't notice or just didn't care to comment on it. "Go sit down. Everything will be ready in a little bit."

With a heavy sigh designed to tell her that he was only doing so because she asked him to, InuYasha crossed over to the fireplace to drop another log on the small flame. He sank down on a cushion to wait. Dammit lay down beside him.

InuYasha stared down at the dog with a thoughtful frown. Though she'd behaved herself well enough around Kagome since the osuwari incident, InuYasha still didn't understand what had come over the dog at the time. `Hur-r-r-rt, hur-r-r-r-rt,' was all he had been able to discern from her. Had the dog thought that Kagome's inadvertent use of the incantation had hurt him? Irritated him, maybe. Embarrassed him, sure. But hurt him? "Keh!"

`Is that what you thought? You gotta be joking! Kagome can't hurt me,' he thought as he stared down into the dog's eyes.

Dammit stared back with a sad expression. `Much hur-rt Lor-rd Dog's hear-rt.'

InuYasha shook his head, his scowl darkening considerably. In the weeks since she'd come to live with him, he'd slowly come to realize that Dammit could talk to him like this, in an abridged way. She didn't know many human words. Most of the time, however, she was able to tell him enough that he understood.

Kagome hummed softly as she finished up supper. With a twinge of recognition, InuYasha realized that it was the same song that she'd whistle or sing while she made dinner with Sango. The dull ache in his heart that never seemed to go away intensified with the poignant memory. InuYasha closed his eyes for a moment against the emotion.

`Anyway, you'd best behave yourself. Kagome's here for good.'

Dammit snorted but didn't reply.

InuYasha reached over and dragged his briefcase closer. Kagome was still busy preparing dinner. He might as well do something constructive. Digging out the brochures from the local college, he leafed through them, frowning as he stared at the course listings. Though he'd picked up the booklets for Kagome, he also couldn't help but think maybe he ought to consider taking some classes, himself. He couldn't be a substitute teacher forever, now could he?

Kagome set a plate of food down on the low table beside him. She handed him a set of chopsticks and returned to the kitchen to retrieve her plate as he stowed the booklets away again. To his surprise, he saw that she came back with two more plates. She set one down on the floor by the dog before settling down at the end of the table opposite him.

They ate in silence. Dammit, InuYasha noticed, wouldn't touch the food that Kagome had given her. He stifled a sigh, deciding that he would have to have another talk with the animal later.

Kagome pushed her food around and occasionally ate a bite. For the most part, she only picked at hers. He set his chopsticks aside and scooted toward her. "What's wrong?"

She set down her utensils and smiled. It looked more like a grimace. "Why do you get that look on your face? Why do you look so lonely?" She cupped his cheek in her small hand; she stared into his face as though she was trying to read his mind. "It's that girl, isn't it? The one who forgot you?"

He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to tell her that she was that girl. Her eyes were pained, sad. `If only she would remember . . .'

Her head bowed. He hated that he couldn't see the emotions she couldn't hide from him. He resisted the urge to lift her chin, to make her look him in the eye, to dare her to lie to him.

Kagome drew a deep, ragged breath. "It's all right. You don't have to say. I see it in your eyes sometimes; when you think I'm not looking . . ." She and forced a smile that was only a shadow of the genuine emotion. InuYasha flinched at the suspicious brightness behind her gaze. "If she came back . . . if she remembered . . ." She swallowed hard. Her bottom lip trembled. Still she smiled. InuYasha's chest constricted painfully, fully aware of what it was costing her to say what it was she was trying to say. "I know you've said you'd stay with me, but if she came back, if she made you happy . . . I'd want you to be with her."

InuYasha started to reach for Kagome. She drew away from him and reached behind her neck, working the clasp on the chain that she always wore. She stared at the dormant pink orb on the necklace for a long moment. Then with a smile that closer resembled what a smile should be, she dropped the jewel into his hand.

"I don't know where I got that. I feel like I've had it forever. When I felt sad or lonely, just touching it made me feel better." She took the chain and leaned over his shoulder to work the clasp. When she sat back, she reached over, her fingers idly touching the jewel before she sighed and said, "I want you to have it because . . ."

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. He had always wanted to make her feel like that—safe, secure, happy—but he hadn't known how. And now . . . now that she couldn't remember him . . . he'd finally succeeded. He only hoped that it wouldn't be too late.

InuYasha clasped the jewel in his palm. It was still warm. She'd given it to him, and she didn't know? In one movement, he dragged her forward into his embrace, crushing her to him with a fierce protectiveness that he rarely showed her. Normally too afraid that he would hurt her, he had refrained from doing it before. Kagome gasped softly but hugged him back, her own strength surprising and comforting at the same time. "Stay with me, Kagome."

He didn't see her frown but he felt her body tense in his arms. He leaned away to look down at her face, and he puzzled over the odd look in her expression. "Kagome?"

She looked a million miles away, and the confusion in her eyes tore at him, raked at him, left him raw and bleeding in places that no eye would ever see. "You've said that to me before," she whispered, shaking her head as though it made no sense to her. "You did, didn't you?"

InuYasha gently drew her back against him, smoothed her hair under his hands. He never answered her question. He wasn't sure how to do it without telling her too much, without explaining things that couldn't be explained. "I have something for you, too," he said.

Kagome straightened up and leaned forward, her eyes brightening in anticipation. "What?"

He chuckled. In the past, she'd always given them things—treats from her time, things that she thought would please them. How often had she returned from her visits home with candy or crayons for Shippou, with makeup and soaps that smelled nice for Sango? How many sodas and treats had she given Miroku? How often had she thought to bring him ramen or potato chips?

With a sharp pang of guilt, he realized that he'd never really given her anything. `But it wasn't as though I'd never thought of it,' he reasoned. `There just wasn't anything that was good enough to give her.' He got up to retrieve the plainly wrapped gift. "I'm not good at wrapping things," he remarked with an inward flinch as he handed her the package and sank back down on his cushion to wait. "Sorry."

Her already bright smile widened as she lifted her eyes to stare through her lashes at him. "It's perfect."

For some reason, watching her slowly open the package did little to alleviate InuYasha's anxiety. He asked himself again if he had chosen the right thing. It was the one thing that he had that she might one day understand. It was the only thing he had that meant enough to give her.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as the paper fell away. InuYasha dug his claws into the cushion and waited for her to speak. "What is this?" she asked finally, lifting the fire rat robe to stare at it.

InuYasha sighed, shoving aside the ill-placed feelings of sadness. He had hoped . . . "It's a family heirloom," he explained. "My father gave it to my mother, and she gave it to me. She said I should give it to the one I want to protect."

Kagome's gaze dropped back to the garments in amazement, in wonder, as though she didn't dare believe what he had said. "You want me to have it? Are you sure?"

InuYasha made a face. "It's not fancy," he grumbled. "It was a stupid thought. I'll take you tomorrow and get whatever you want, okay?"

The gift slid off her lap as she launched herself into his arms. He blinked in surprise but hugged her back. "What, exactly, will you protect me from?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

InuYasha kissed her forehead as a stuttering warmth grew stronger in his chest until he felt like he wanted to laugh. He didn't, but he did smile. Curiously, he felt tears prick the back of his eyes. He blinked them away and had to clear his throat before he could answer her.

"I'll protect you from anything that would hurt you." He grimaced as images of her face, of her pain, of the times she'd found out that he'd talked to Kikyou, raced through his head. As well as they had always seemed to understand one another, Kagome had never, ever understood why he had sought Kikyou out in the past. To let her remember pain—any pain—especially pain of his own making . . . Could he stand it if Kagome remembered that?

InuYasha's arms tightened around her. No, he couldn't. `I'll protect you, even if it means you never remember us, Kagome . . .'