InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Shadow ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: CatBlack400 
Kagome meets Shippou!!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.11.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 173 | Status: Work In Progress
Kagome meets Shippou!!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.11.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 173 | Status: Work In Progress
Summary
Kagome lives on the streets of Toronto, she has been there so long she has almost forgotten her past. Almost. She has night terrors. Flashes of the past she doesn’t want to remember. To forget her past she detaches herself off from her memories, from her emotions and from her music. She has done this for so long she has forgot herself. She becomes a shadow. Then she meets other street kids, each with a tale of grace and despair. Each of whom help to unlock one of her emotions. Then she meets one street kid’s brother that wears a mask so much like what she became. Can he unlock the most important emotion of all? Love. And will he be able to help Kagome find herself and with it her voice? Eventual Sesshoumaru/Kagome, little Sango/Miroku, Kohaku/Rin, Inuyasha/Kikyo, Kouga/Ayame,
Disclaimer
I do not own Inu Yasha or anything related to it. This fanfic was inspired by the series, and song lyrics (mostly evanescence).
A/N Sorry for not updating as quickly as I did before. I no longer have as much free time as I used to as I now have a boyfriend who I spend most of my free time with :D So I wont be able to update as often as I originally hoped but will still try to update on a regular basis, I will try for once every two weeks, kk? Well anyways, onto the third chapter.
Chapter 3
Friends, can a shadow have friends? I hope they can; which is strange. Up till now I have never felt the need to even speak with anyone, now all of the sudden I feel myself get pulled in. I look at the people around me and I long to be like them so much I ache inside. I want to speak, to be heard, and to be acknowledged. I want to laugh, to be happy, and to be accepted. I want to sing, to be understood, to be myself; Even if it was for a moment I could die in satisfaction that I have felt life, that I have felt life pulse through my veins, that I have felt that pulse and let it loose. I want to sing so bad my lungs are painfully pushing against my ribcage in my effort to keep the music inside.
Instead I sit on a wall by the sidewalk and play my guitar. I let some of the music flow through me and to the ears of anyone who cares to listen. I don’t really care if they do or not; I just like to play. That and the money I find in my guitar case.
After every ‘performance’ I look through my guitar case and I find change, lots of change. After a while I discovered that people passing put money in there.
I didn’t notice before because I was always absorbed in my music. Whenever I let the music out I float away with it; I’m afraid sometimes that I will float so far away I won’t be able to find my body. That’s why I only let out some of the music.
I am torn away from my thoughts and music by the ache in my stomach. I have to eat something, I hope I have enough money.
I slide off the wall and crouch beside my guitar case, placing my guitar gently beside it. I sift through my old clothes I store in my guitar case and look for money, I eventually count out the money I need for a coffee and fries; Thank god! I am starving, I wonder if my friends will be there?
I take out the small piece of paper which contains Miroku’s cell phone number; he was the only one of my new friends with a phone number. For, like me, they also lived on the streets.
How did Miroku get a cell phone anyhow? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I now have someone to call if I ever want to talk, but I’m afraid to call. What if it was just a dream?
It didn’t seem like a dream though…
Then maybe it was a prank? Maybe they gave me a wrong number? It wouldn’t be the worst thing someone has done to me. But it would hurt more than I could bear false kindness stings more than insults; I speak from experience.
Still, even with the ‘what ifs’ I cannot crush this hope inside me… I long for a friend so hard it feels like a clamp on my chest. I have to call.
But not now; now is time for coffee and fries.
I carefully put my guitar in its case and arrange the clothes around it. I sling it over my back and put my black back pack over it. Everything I own is black.
I walk to a McDonalds and get a small order of fries which is all I can afford. I turn around and as I scope out a seat a small shadow appears to my left, but it disappears soon; with my fries!
I frantically look around until I see the shadow clearly, a small little thing with a dirty green jacket. I rush over and snatch back my fries. I look down at the dirty thief, which no longer looks like a dirty thief.
He is a small child with big green watery eyes. He looks scared; scared of me. I look down at the cowering small child and feel something weigh down in my stomach, it feels like a stone.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” cries the little child, tears running down his cheeks and hopping from one foot to the other.
The feeling gets worse. Something starts to grip my stomach, twisting it. I shove my fries at the kid who stops crying and walk away. Maybe I can eat tomorrow.
A/N sorry, I sorta wasn’t in a properly depressed mood when I wrote this so it might not be up to depressing standards. Blame my boyfriend. :P I would dump him since it will help writing fanfics but he is way to cute!
A/N warning, scene containing violence ahead
Chapter 4
I watch as a young girl of 14 drops beside me, blood and tears dripping down her face. She looks at me and her twisted face dons a small, reassuring smile. But her smile doesn’t reach her bright blue eyes which stay filled with pain and tears. And fear. Fear for me. She gasps and collapses, her eyes closing. No… I look at her all night, listening to her laboured breathing, listening for her next breath. I listen to her breathing for what seems like only a moment but can tell by the now rising sun, was really several hours. I listen for another gasp of breath from my sister; a gasp that never comes. I hold my own breath, hold it until I choke. And scream.
Kagome lives on the streets of Toronto, she has been there so long she has almost forgotten her past. Almost. She has night terrors. Flashes of the past she doesn’t want to remember. To forget her past she detaches herself off from her memories, from her emotions and from her music. She has done this for so long she has forgot herself. She becomes a shadow. Then she meets other street kids, each with a tale of grace and despair. Each of whom help to unlock one of her emotions. Then she meets one street kid’s brother that wears a mask so much like what she became. Can he unlock the most important emotion of all? Love. And will he be able to help Kagome find herself and with it her voice? Eventual Sesshoumaru/Kagome, little Sango/Miroku, Kohaku/Rin, Inuyasha/Kikyo, Kouga/Ayame,
Disclaimer
I do not own Inu Yasha or anything related to it. This fanfic was inspired by the series, and song lyrics (mostly evanescence).
A/N Sorry for not updating as quickly as I did before. I no longer have as much free time as I used to as I now have a boyfriend who I spend most of my free time with :D So I wont be able to update as often as I originally hoped but will still try to update on a regular basis, I will try for once every two weeks, kk? Well anyways, onto the third chapter.
Chapter 3
Friends, can a shadow have friends? I hope they can; which is strange. Up till now I have never felt the need to even speak with anyone, now all of the sudden I feel myself get pulled in. I look at the people around me and I long to be like them so much I ache inside. I want to speak, to be heard, and to be acknowledged. I want to laugh, to be happy, and to be accepted. I want to sing, to be understood, to be myself; Even if it was for a moment I could die in satisfaction that I have felt life, that I have felt life pulse through my veins, that I have felt that pulse and let it loose. I want to sing so bad my lungs are painfully pushing against my ribcage in my effort to keep the music inside.
Instead I sit on a wall by the sidewalk and play my guitar. I let some of the music flow through me and to the ears of anyone who cares to listen. I don’t really care if they do or not; I just like to play. That and the money I find in my guitar case.
After every ‘performance’ I look through my guitar case and I find change, lots of change. After a while I discovered that people passing put money in there.
I didn’t notice before because I was always absorbed in my music. Whenever I let the music out I float away with it; I’m afraid sometimes that I will float so far away I won’t be able to find my body. That’s why I only let out some of the music.
I am torn away from my thoughts and music by the ache in my stomach. I have to eat something, I hope I have enough money.
I slide off the wall and crouch beside my guitar case, placing my guitar gently beside it. I sift through my old clothes I store in my guitar case and look for money, I eventually count out the money I need for a coffee and fries; Thank god! I am starving, I wonder if my friends will be there?
I take out the small piece of paper which contains Miroku’s cell phone number; he was the only one of my new friends with a phone number. For, like me, they also lived on the streets.
How did Miroku get a cell phone anyhow? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I now have someone to call if I ever want to talk, but I’m afraid to call. What if it was just a dream?
It didn’t seem like a dream though…
Then maybe it was a prank? Maybe they gave me a wrong number? It wouldn’t be the worst thing someone has done to me. But it would hurt more than I could bear false kindness stings more than insults; I speak from experience.
Still, even with the ‘what ifs’ I cannot crush this hope inside me… I long for a friend so hard it feels like a clamp on my chest. I have to call.
But not now; now is time for coffee and fries.
I carefully put my guitar in its case and arrange the clothes around it. I sling it over my back and put my black back pack over it. Everything I own is black.
I walk to a McDonalds and get a small order of fries which is all I can afford. I turn around and as I scope out a seat a small shadow appears to my left, but it disappears soon; with my fries!
I frantically look around until I see the shadow clearly, a small little thing with a dirty green jacket. I rush over and snatch back my fries. I look down at the dirty thief, which no longer looks like a dirty thief.
He is a small child with big green watery eyes. He looks scared; scared of me. I look down at the cowering small child and feel something weigh down in my stomach, it feels like a stone.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” cries the little child, tears running down his cheeks and hopping from one foot to the other.
The feeling gets worse. Something starts to grip my stomach, twisting it. I shove my fries at the kid who stops crying and walk away. Maybe I can eat tomorrow.
A/N sorry, I sorta wasn’t in a properly depressed mood when I wrote this so it might not be up to depressing standards. Blame my boyfriend. :P I would dump him since it will help writing fanfics but he is way to cute!
A/N warning, scene containing violence ahead
Chapter 4
I watch as a young girl of 14 drops beside me, blood and tears dripping down her face. She looks at me and her twisted face dons a small, reassuring smile. But her smile doesn’t reach her bright blue eyes which stay filled with pain and tears. And fear. Fear for me. She gasps and collapses, her eyes closing. No… I look at her all night, listening to her laboured breathing, listening for her next breath. I listen to her breathing for what seems like only a moment but can tell by the now rising sun, was really several hours. I listen for another gasp of breath from my sister; a gasp that never comes. I hold my own breath, hold it until I choke. And scream.