InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Skating Blind ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 2 )

Tenshi's Spot: Me again, did you miss me? Well lucky for you I don't have much to say, this time around. All my internal ramblings are all uploaded on the previous chapter so if you want to dive into the mindless drivel of a wannabe writer . Well I don't want to delay you any longer so here is my highest anticipated (yeah, I wish) newest story Skating Blind

Story: Skating Blind

Rating: R (for suggested concepts?)

Summary: Inuyasha Hikami had been scarred early in his childhood so when he sees his angel on Earth he just can't help falling for her in subconscious hopes that she can ease is pain. But maybe, but maybe it can work both ways

Notes: I read this story called Summer Light by Luanne Rice and I fell in love with it. So this story is based of that story. also there are references to Hockey here, nothing major just wanted to let you know. I don't know a lick about that Canadian sport (no offense) so bare with me if I offend any lovers of the sport.

Side Note: there are description of violence and abuse in this chapter as well as some rough language. Duh, that's why it's R-rated. Just a forewarning to you all.

Disclaimer: I'm a professional writer, my native language is Japanese, and I own Inuyasha. I do have one fault though…I lie.

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The lake was so thick that you couldn't even see the bottom. When it's frozen like this, that's when you know that winter is truly here. The jagged edges of the snow-capped mountains rose up everywhere and snow covered everything, making it all seem like something out of a postcard. The sun was just rising casting everything in a firelight glow. But even through all of this breathtaking scenery a young boy paid it all no heed. And without looking around him that boy strapped on his worn hand down ice skates and grabbed a nearby rusted snow shovel that if held wrong it will give you a handful of splinters.

The temperature was four below zero; the highest is has been all week. But if what the weatherman said is true, then it will get a lot warmer before the day is done. The air is crisp and frigid, just the right kind of weather to play hockey in. It was so cold that you can see your breath rise up in the air when you breathe out of your mouth.

Inside his house, he had tried to warm the place up with their ancient, burnt fireplace but it was more trouble than it was worth. After only a measly thirty seconds of springing the fire to life it died out on him, leaving himself to curse his luck and his developing cold. Will it kill his father to buy them a modern heater like everyone else? Of course, his father didn't care if he was warm enough, he never did. His father was tough enough to handle a little chill so he should be too. He had to live up to his name; after all, he was named Inuyasha for a reason. So although he may be tough enough, his mother…well, you get the idea.

Inuyasha was always cold no matter how many clothes he wore or how thick his mother made them. It made no difference though; he was use to it all. Besides he enjoyed the cold it made him feel free and alive, ready to take on anything and everything. Even so, he still hated winter.

Outside the wind nipped his ears, tousled his hair, and chapped his lips. It seared his lungs with its dry air and reddened his face like a tomato. He all but lost feeling on his gloveless fingers and he hadn't been out that long. But nothing compared to the cuts on his chest and back which burned like nothing else. They were still fresh and raw and painstakingly stitched closed with his mother's white sewing thread. With the pain brought to life his reality, a reality he didn't want to accept right now; he couldn't accept right now. Oh how he hated winter.

Granted he still felt like crud, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. But this hurt won't stop him, nothing could. Besides, it wasn't that bad…okay, so he was lying. But his father always said, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and who wouldn't want to be stronger? Besides he promised his best friend since childhood ( which isn't that long once you think about it) that they were going to meet on the ice, and he'll be damned if a few cuts will stop him.

As the sunrise slowly rose over the mountains, slivers of morning light shot through the trees slightly warming up the injured boy's shivering body. Paying no heed to this minor relief, Inuyasha raced across the ice pushing the shovel ahead of him and clearing up last night's snowfall. Three and a half inches of snow had fallen but even though that wasn't a lot to him, the lake was pretty big so it'll take him awhile. Snow, the curse of winter.

Hearing the scrape of a shovel other than his, Inuyasha looked across the lake and smirked at seeing his fellow partner in crime only to receive one back. Well he'll be damned. For once, his good-for-nothing lifetime buddy decided to show up on time and actually help out.

Miroku laughed to himself as he continued to shovel away the snow. Really, did Inuyasha think so little of him? Granted what he thought was undoubtedly true but even so… okay, he'll stop while he's ahead right now.

The boys met and passed each other, both racing to finish first. Of course they had to compete against each other about things as stupid as this. After all they are boys so what do you expect? But Miroku being graced with longer legs won over Inuyasha's slightly shorter stature. And with Miroku being Miroku, he of course showed no modesty when he gloated about it in his face.

The sun chased away the last evident of night, signaling the end of dawn. Inuyasha didn't see this though, for you can't see any of that if you're inside a professional ice hockey ring. The birds are actually the crowds getting hyped up for the start of the game. The roaring of the crowd fleetingly dies down before revving up tenfold for at long last, the great Inuyasha Hikami is about to do battle on ice with the equally great Miroku Tagashi.

Exchanging their shovels for chipped, worn hokey sticks they brought along with them; they both skated to the center. Just after placing an overused hockey puck between them, Inuyasha's stomach grumbled through all the layers of his sweaters and his heavy, patched jacket. He cringed inwardly, knowing Miroku probably heard it. It wasn't his fault that they didn't have enough money to buy more food since his father was now missing in action, so he didn't want any pity from Miroku or anyone else for that matter.

Inuyasha's embarrassment quickly turned into irritation as he glared at Miroku. If Miroku so much as open his mouth, he'll make sure that'll he'll regret it.

"Ready?" Miroku asked ignoring Inuyasha's death glares and hunger pains. He learned early on that it's better for his health to do this.

"Feh" replied Inuyasha with his trademark remark. Although he felt relief at his friend's actions, he didn't thank him but rather he put on a fierce game face and scowled because that's what all the pros do.

Their sticks clicked once, twice, and three times and luckily, Inuyasha had the speed to win the puck. He shot off with Miroku close at his heels. Inuyasha smirked to himself- the race was on.

Inuyasha was gliding across the frozen lake, no- he was gliding across the ice rink. He could hear the roar of his fans egging him on, the grating of skates against ice as the opposing team struggled to catch up to him. He could see the fear and determination glistening in the goalie's eyes as he readied himself up for Inuyasha's oncoming shot.

Inuyasha raised his stick and swung only to have it meet with snow and ice instead of the puck. Hearing the sound of receding skates, he turned around only to see Miroku speed away with puck in tow. How did he not see that coming? Were the painkillers that his mother gave him dulling his senses that much? Cursing to himself Inuyasha changed directions and charged putting, his all into it.

Determined to stop Miroku at any and all costs, Inuyasha hurriedly raced after him. The outside world blew pass him as he concentrated only on his opponent. All of nature carried on around him, a million sights at a time, but he paid it no heed for his eyes were focused only on the prize.

Inuyasha caught up to Miroku but Miroku was ready for him. They fought and tripped each other, using both legal and illegal moves for their benefit. The fun of the game warmed their blood and they shouted and mocked each other in friendly rivalry.

Miroku was good but Inuyasha was better largely due to his adrenaline high. This feeling of power- he… he just loved it! It pushed him to limits he'd never been to before. He was unstoppable as he recaptured his goal and raced to his haven on the opposite side on the lake. Inuyasha was superhuman. He had the slyness of a dog and the speed of a cheetah. He was the best hockey player in the world.

Inuyasha could just hear his father's voice driving him onwards. It was so clear and sharp as if he was right beside him instead of hiding out in some unknown location. Pushing for the goal, he imagined his fans holding their breath in anticipation while his father watched him from the sidelines.

Inuyasha was a few yards from the net, enough distance to make a goal. He grinned brazenly knowing that Miroku couldn't possibly catch up to him in time. All was falling into place now and all he had to do was take action in order to claim the victory that is rightfully his.

Inuyasha glanced back looking at the now frustrated Miroku only to crack a smirk at him just to rub it in his face even more. Now fully concentrating on making the goal, Inuyasha raised his hockey stick, narrowed his eyes, aimed for the net, and let it fly. Time seemed to stand still and all sound and vision were focused only on the air-borne puck heading towards the goal.

But then all of a sudden, Miroku entered his line of sight and attempted to block the shot. The puck glanced off the stick and hit the ice but it was still going strong towards the net. Inuyasha held his breath and all seem to enter a standstill state. There was nothing they could do to catch up to it in time and it didn't escape either of their notice that the puck was slowing down.

It was inches away from it being goal before it stopped. It stopped before entering the goal zone. It stopped before he scored. It stopped. He didn't make it. Wait run that by him again. How is it that he didn't score a point? That wasn't suppose to happen. How is it that the great Inuyasha Hikami lost? How was that possible? He had everything going for him so he should've scored yet, he didn't. Inuyasha caught Miroku's eye and knew that he was in trouble. He shot off towards Miroku and the puck even he knew that he wouldn't make it in time.

Seeing his chance, Miroku once again charged. But just when he had a hold on the puck a gust of frigid, winter wind snatched it from his possession to have it to hit the goal scoring Inuyasha that much desired point. Call it luck, divine intervention, or maybe it just wasn't Miroku's point, but Inyasha scored and that's all that matters.

Inuyasha grinned, hooted, did some bizarre victory dance all the while wondering how his luck could turn so soon. How he loved winter. How he loved winning.

Inuyasha sank into his fantasy as he skated rings around Miroku. His fans were going wild jumping and cheering in the stands and it was all the authorities could do to stop them from jumping onto the ice. But that all barely registered to Inuyasha because he was too busy searching for his father. And when his eyes made contact with his father's, he saw the two things he aspired to get from him in all his life; pride and acceptance. It was for this reason he took up hockey. It was for this reason he practiced for into the night hungry, bruised, and tired just to be the perfection his father always wanted from him.

But all too soon his fantasy was gone as Miroku skates grated harshly over the lake's uneven, frozen surface. Inuyasha once again felt the cold of the harsh winter. He saw barren trees that he once took for hockey fans. The sound of nature replaced the roar of the crowds. And gone was his father's pride of him and his father himself. How illusive they actually were in reality. Now faced with reality instead of his far-fetched fantasies that he often fell into, Inuyasha couldn't help but wonder will he ever see either of them again.

Inuyasha turned around to face Miroku and rub his victory in his friend's face, but the stricken look on his face stopped him cold.

"Inuyasha," Miroku asked skating over to him, "what is that?"

He smirked, his need to boast winning over the unease he felt from Miroku's tone. "What's what?" he teased as he jokingly punched Miroku on the shoulder. "I just scored one on you. What, are you so unused to losing? Well you'll get use to it once you start playing against me more often."

Inuyasha grinned up at Miroku but the smile died on his face when he saw the seriousness in his friend's eyes. He put an arm around him acting concerned. "Hey Miroku, what's eating you?"

That seemingly innocent question from friend to friend was the straw that broke the camel's back because it seemed that Miroku's restraint snapped. All of a sudden, Miroku roughly pushed Inuyasha away and shakily pointed at the ground, speechless.

Drops of crimson red sparkled brightly across the ice. The splattering all trailed to a shining red puddle at the base of Inuyasha's feet. Rivulets of blood ran down Inuyasha's legs, covering his skates to drip steadily onto the ice adding to the growing puddle.

Inuyasha couldn't help wondering why he didn't notice this all in the first place, he must have been paying to much attention to the game to notice something like this. Wearily he looked up to Miroku only to catch him staring.

"What's that?" Miroku asked once again.

"It's nothing," Inuyasha declared with an unreadable expression.

With a grim but determined face, Miroku grabbed Inuyasha ignoring all of his protests. He took off his unwilling friend's jacket, fumbling at the buttons and zippers with unsteady hands. Inuyasha tried to fight him off but his adrenaline rush left him feeling weak and plus he was shaking too much to get away. So he just gave up, letting Miroku undress him, ruining his clothes along the way.

After Miroku took off his Eskimo sweaters and practically ripped his worn shirt, Inuyasha's wounds were there for the whole world to see. The cuts were both shallow and deep and the blood soaked stitches only made them look even more ghastly. The slices had reopened and the blood freely stemmed from his crisscross wounds. The red contrasted sharply against his too pale skin, making the whole thing look like some grisly canvas painting. It was just sickening to see something like this on someone so young. And Miroku's young eyes took it all in, while Inuyasha said nothing; did nothing.

"Kami…," murmured Miroku before finally looking up blankly to Inuyasha's downcast eyes. Inuyasha just stood there like stone offering no explanations for the state that he was in. And if it wasn't from the unsteady heaving from all the exertion and that fact that he was bleeding all over the place, it could've been said that he was just a statue.

The wind howled around them and their blood froze as they stood there in the heavy silence. Neither wanted to break the stillness- the stillness that held back the full weight of this realization. For then they will realize that this isn't some nightmare but the truth; the truth that were not ready to handle yet.

The silence broke when Inuyasha suddenly sneezed and shivered from the cold, snapping Miroku into action. Ripping Inuyasha's shirt into long, jagged strips, he bandaged him up as best as any ten year old possibly could. Inuyasha numbly glanced up to Miroku's face only to look away from the thinly veiled questions and worry he saw in his eyes. He wouldn't tell him, he couldn't tell him, how could he? How could he rat out his father who only watched as he let strangers hurt his own son? They held him down those strangers, those men. "Pay up fucker." One man said as he grinned with those crooked teeth of his, taunting them all with that shiny, bloody blade of his. "Pay up or I'll go deeper." No, how could he tell as his father cowardly watched and the tortured screams of his beaten mother drowned out his own pleading cries? He'll never tell… never. And even though his father sold him out, he'll never do that to his bastard of a dad. And true to his word, Inuyasha didn't, he didn't tell a soul. He didn't tell a single soul, well until he met…her.

Tenshi's Spot: Seven pages, not too shabby if I do say so myself, which I did so, um…yeah. Question does anyone know if you're allowed to post poems on Mediaminer, because I have loads of anime poems on ff.net but none here. That sucks, you know. I really like this prologue and I hope you guys do too. I really don't know the best day to update stories so I updated on Saturday. Can you guys tell me which you think are the best? If you have any ?'s, comments, complaints, leave me a review or email me (it's on my profile). About the last name's I just made them up but I have an inkling that they've been used before. Hopefully the next chapter will come up soon. I can't say when because I have to actually start my stupid AP English work (which I haven't started since I am the master of procrastinating). It'll come out when it comes out. Just put me on Author alert or email me if your so desperate for my story (not that that's a bad thing, of course). But my other incomplete stories should tide you over `till then. So later everybody and drop me a line if you're not too busy.