InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Temporal Sequence ❯ Chapter 8 ( Chapter 8 )

Temporal Sequence

 

Chapter 8:

 

“Swimming?”

 

“Yeah!” she beamed in a display of excessive energy. “You know, treading through water for fun!” She made strange arm motions then. Were those movements supposed to give him a conception of what she was talking about, because she was failing miserably—he remained quite clueless.

 

“Fun? You tread water for fun?” She nodded enthusiastically, a ridiculous grin plastered to her face as though it was nailed there. “I was under the impression you needed to study. I would hate for you to digress or else I'll have to endure another one of your panic episodes.”

 

Her smile finally faltered and her cheeks lit afire. She really was so very predictable.

 

“Hey now! I've been studying hard and I need a break! And I want to go swimming!” she said in a pouting manner with her fists clenched at her sides as she stomped her foot in the most child-like manner. Sometimes she really did seem more like a girl than a woman, which made him uncertain as to how he should act toward her. Unfortunately she was at that stage in life where she was caught in between.

 

“I have no desire to partake in this swimming. And if a reprieve is what you need, then by all means take it,” he said as politely as possible, knowing this would heighten her annoyance. Now that he thought about it, her childish antics did have a strange effect on him. She made him act immaturely in reaction to her little outbursts. Was this normal behavior for him, or was she just capable of lowering his standards of proper conduct? Either way, it still remained to be discovered why he enjoyed irritating her so.

 

“B-but,” she stuttered with an interesting o-shape molding her lips, “I can't swim alone! It's more fun with two people!”

 

He sighed to himself when suddenly she leapt for that oversized bag of hers that held entirely too many objects, pulling out something shockingly red that appeared to be made of cloth. She then marched back toward him and stopped mere inches from his person and shoved the article in his face. The rude display really caught him off-guard. Firstly, he was shocked that she would voluntarily intrude upon his `personal bubble', as she had called it, since she was so adamant about him respecting her bubble's boundary, which she set at a three-foot perimeter. Secondly, he would be damned if he wore that red cloth! It was obscene, it was inappropriate, it was…it was downright scandalous!

 

“Put it on! NOW!” she yelled, pointing to the tree line. She really needed to watch her volume.

 

“What exactly I am supposed to do with this? Wear it on my head?”

 

“NO! It's your bathing suit! I picked out a pretty one for you!” she said with a mischievous smile.

 

“Bathing suit?” he whispered as he inspected the cloth. “I was under the impression that people bathed alone. And what do you mean by pretty? It is simply red fabric, nothing more.”

 

She huffed in response to his stubbornness. Perhaps he would win this battle if she was already sighing in defeat. “That's just what it's called, but it's meant for swimming. And bathing is supposed to be done in your birthday suit, not your bathing suit,” she said plainly, as though that information was common knowledge. Perhaps it was…

 

“What's a birthday suit?”

 

He never thought she could turn so red. Then the connotation clicked and he smirked in response. It was a rather funny phrase.

 

“OH NEVERMIND! JUST PUT IT ON!”

 

She was angry now. He didn't really like to enrage her; he simply liked to frustrate her. So maybe he should forfeit this battle for her sake and swim. Whatever that was…

 

He held the `bathing suit' against his legs to see if it was a proper fit and it seemed sufficient, but there was a strange white material on the inner part of the red cloth. It oddly resembled fishing net. Should he know its purpose?

 

“What is the purpose of fishing net in this clothing? Am I to catch fish in my own pants?” he said with an indecipherable hint of sarcasm. He now decided that this was the reddest he had ever seen her. She was so embarrassed that she ran off, stopping briefly at her pack, and took off toward the forest with a shiny blue material in her hands. He supposed she was not going to tell him.

 

“JUST PUT IT ON, SESSHOUMARU!” she yelled, not looking toward him, and thankfully so given her unholy volume. “AND BE THANKFUL! I COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOU A SPEEDO!”

 

He gaped at her as she disappeared behind a large tree. He looked back at his red bathing suit and decided things could indeed be worse. How he wasn't sure, but whatever a `speedo' was, it didn't sound good…

 

After putting on the red bathing suit, he decided it was rather uncomfortable, but hopefully he would adjust. A few moments later he felt Kagome nearing as he continued to look down at his legs. He was unaccustomed to such garments where the fabric ended just below his knees. The waistband was a bit tight and made of an odd material that stretched significantly, though he could not examine its properties since it was covered by the red fabric. The red fabric bewildered him as well since it was rather loud and he was unaware that fabric could make such noises. A cream colored material was then visible under his nose and thusly blocking his inspection of his bathing suit and its otherworldly properties.

 

“You'll need a towel.”

 

He took the towel from her hands and finally looked at her, hoping her bathing suit was much different than his. It was, but it seemed even more scandalous! It was dark blue and shone like the water's surface, but it only covered her body sparingly, showing the full length of her legs and arms while exposing cleavage. Then she said something, which he did not hear, and then turned away from him, walking off in the direction of the stream. Her back was completely visible and the suit was so tight he could make out the exact shape of her derriere. It was beyond scandalous…it was…it was… He honestly couldn't figure out how to word it.

 

“Come on, Sesshoumaru!”

 

He hurried after her and his long strides brought him to her side within an instant. He wondered why she would even dare to wear such a thing. She was rather conscious of her body after all and insisted upon her privacy, telling him to turn his head when she changed for the night and such. Yet she had no qualms about prancing about in practically nothing at all in front of him? It was odd, very odd. Then again, she hadn't provided him with a shirt for quite a while, which she blamed on his wounds, so perhaps this was his payment. He stilled at that thought.

 

Suddenly, droplets of water hit his face and he realized he was at a standstill and the stream was directly in front of him. Kagome was splashing around in the deeper part of the water and motioning for him to join her. “Get in! It feels great!”

 

She then mimicked those arm movements from earlier and she glided through the water as though she was born a fish, her bathing suit shimmering in the sunlight like scales cutting through the water's surface. He watched her for a minute or so and she beckoned him once again to enter the water, but his feet were immobile, the sunlight feeling suddenly out of place.

 

He remembered a night long ago when he held his breath for as long as possible, so long that water went through his nose and into his lungs. It burned worse than fire and he willed his body back to the shore, barely able to keep his head above water as he moved. Then he was caught, but that wasn't the beginning. He should have seen it coming…

 

xxx

 

“Get up, boy.”

 

The shade was pulled up abruptly, allowing the sunlight to filter through with ease. He blinked once, then twice, and before he could open his eyes again his blanket was ripped away from him.

 

“I said, get up.” He rubbed his bleary eyes as he rolled over, barely able to make out his uncle's silhouette. “You better learn to wake faster than that. Today is the exception. Starting tomorrow, you will rise before the sun.” His uncle then stalked off and paused at the doorway before leaving. “Your breakfast is ready and I suggest you do not eat more than is sufficient.”

 

He watched as his uncle left, his eyes remaining on the screen moments after Kazuma's departure. He lifted himself out of bed, still half asleep, and changed his clothing. It seemed an eternity before he reached the dining room where some hot soup was awaiting him. Before he had his fill, his uncle appeared and commanded him to follow.

 

“But I'm not finished.”

 

“You've had enough for now. You begin your training today.”

 

“But father just left yesterday.”

 

“Then perhaps we should have begun yesterday.” Kazuma turned sharply upon exiting the doorway and Sesshoumaru hopped up from his seat and took off after him. He had hoped that he would spend the day becoming acquainted his uncle since yesterday Kazuma was absorbed in arranging his quarters. Perhaps his uncle was the quiet type like his father had said.

 

He followed his uncle silently into the dojo outside the fortress and next to the soldiers' residential halls. It was a cool morning, but the sun was bright, making it a rather pleasant temperature. Kazuma left the entrance of the dojo open, meaning at the very least that he wouldn't get too hot.

 

He immediately went to the wall that secured the weapons and picked a medium sized bokken, which he had been practicing with on his own. Perhaps he could impress his uncle.

 

“Put that back.”

 

“Why? I thought I was—“

 

“Your father has been too loose with you. Training does not begin with weaponry. You must master the basics of physical combat before you learn the skills involved with weaponry. You are not advanced enough yet.”

 

“So, you're going to teach me hand-to-hand combat? That'll be fun!”

 

“Silence! When training you will only speak with permission. Understand?” Sesshoumaru nodded in affirmation. “Good. Now, your training will begin at the most basic level, the level at which all other skills will be built upon—conditioning.”

 

Kazuma then leapt to the ceiling, touched it, and propelled himself with his palm toward Sesshoumaru and landed behind him in a smooth, flawless motion. He was so fast it appeared he wasn't even moving at all, but rather transporting himself from lateral plane to lateral plane. It was impressive.

 

“You must be faster than your opponent. You must be stronger. You must be flexible and so agile that when combined with your immense speed your opponent will be lost as to where you are even going. Then, they won't be able to lay even a finger on you. That is the first aspect of conditioning.”

 

That did not sound like fun. Swordplay was fun, but running with no real purpose was dull. “But my father says I'm faster than he was at my age!”

 

“Your father trained to get faster and so will you. My clan is gifted with unparalleled speed, but if that gift is not fine-tuned, then eventually you will come across an opponent who is faster than you simply because he developed his innate gift and you did not. Speed is one of your advantages, so utilize it. You cannot defeat an enemy you cannot touch. Remember that. Now run until I say otherwise,” he said, a single claw pointing toward the open door.

 

With a drawn sigh, he complied and he ran and ran. He ran around the dojo, then around the soldiers' complex, then around the fortress and then around the perimeter wall. He ran and ran and ran…and ran, never once stopping and barely slowing.

 

And Kazuma never came.

 

He woke up in the middle of the night to angry voices, not yet realizing that soft cloth lay beneath his skin. His uncle was yelling at his nurse who apparently brought him back inside and to his bed upon discovering him unconscious near the artillery barracks. He passed out and his uncle left him there.

 

Kazuma must be so disappointed.

 

xxx

 

“Do I have to drag you in here?” Kagome asked as she stood in the water, hands on hips.

 

He snapped back to reality in that instant and with one hard look at the insufferable female, he decided to comply. Dropping his towel on the bank, he walked carefully into the water, looking straight at Kagome, and never once looking down. It could be called deference, him bowing to her current whim, but it wasn't true compliance, for she wasn't forcing him to do uncomfortable or painful things that he'd rather not do.

 

She just wanted to share a moment with him. He realized this now.

 

Then she splashed water in his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bating his time as she laughed hysterically. He went in for the kill and her mouth made that priceless `o' again as she dove underneath the water's surface, hoping against all odds to escape him. She wouldn't—he was too fast.

 

x x x

 

“I can't believe you DID THAT!”

 

“It was not intentional,” he said flatly as he dropped his sopping wet towel on the ground.

 

“That was my favorite bathing suit!”

 

She had insisted upon him carrying her through the water as fast as he could. He complied and she laughed, and he soon realized that the faster he went the more she laughed. Her laugh was so full and hearty that it was…nice. He decided he liked hearing her laugh and so he continued on, moving faster and faster until she slipped off his back with a startled scream. Apparently he was going too fast and so he reached around hastily and grabbed her by the shoulder, keeping her head above water. In so doing, his claws grazed the strap of her bathing suit, thus shredding it. The swim session was then over.

 

“Oh, well. I can always buy another one. Do you mind starting a fire while I change?” she asked as she pulled the ribbon loose from her hair. Black locks fell free and she shook her head, allowing droplets to fall ever so gracefully down her back and shoulder. It was captivating and most importantly, not unfamiliar…

 

xxx

 

The moon hung high and full in the black sky, the only thing currently working against his mission this night. He crept silently over the wall and dashed toward the dimly lit home. It was a modest home, but sufficient, and all-around much nicer than most homes in the village. Her father was a reputable merchant, selling the finest of cloths and spices to the wealthy elite. Though not technically wealthy themselves, Hitomi's family was quite comfortable and doing monetarily better than most.

 

There were no real guards or soldiers stationed at this residence, but the family did have a few servants that lingered about in a small structure at the rear of the home where they resided. The back of the house was the best entrance for him since he could bypass the other village homes and hence his probability of getting caught was slim. He just had to sneak past unnoticed by any servants.

 

He pasted his body against the thin wall of the servants' quarters and listened, only hearing the crackling of a meager fire and the slurred speech and laughs that accompanied drunkenness. He was in the clear. He ran quickly to the other side of the house, so fast that hardly a soul would've noticed the air's disruption. He stopped in front of a dimly lit window and peered inside. He immediately noticed Hitomi and so he carefully slid the window open and pulled himself through as quietly as a stalking predator.

 

“Sesshoumaru!”

 

He looked up from his kneeling position on the floor and drank in the sight for as long as she would allow. She was wet, her skin slightly flushed, and only a white cloth separating her from his eyes. Water droplets fell from her hair and splattered delicately onto her shoulder, entrancing his eyes with each tender drop that touched her skin and he silently wished he possessed such privilege.

 

“What are you doing here?” she whispered as she grasped the cloth tighter to her body. The water falling from her hair was soaking the front of the makeshift towel and soon it would be translucent, and for a moment, he debated telling her.

 

“I wanted to see you. I feel like I haven't seen you for an eternity.”

 

“I've only been gone a week,” she said nervously as his hand reached for her arm. “You shouldn't be here,” she said hastily as he grasped her wrist, sliding his hand up her arm.

 

“How's your aunt?” he asked, distracting her as he moved his hand across her shoulder to her neck.

 

“She's going to die, but it's not so bad for me since I really don't know her. My uncle will be devastated though. Speaking of which, how's Uncle Kazuma?” she said with a tone of sarcasm.

 

“Same as usual—unsatisfied unless I pass out.” His playful mood diminished as quickly as it began when his fingertips grazed those sinful water droplets, smearing the transparent liquid across the smooth skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

 

Hunger began to overtake him, his lust intensifying with every beat of her heart. Her pulse was quickening, he could hear her jugular pulsating and the more he stroked her, the faster it pulsed. It was addictive, this feeling of want and promised satisfaction. He wanted her, there was no denying it, but she was so resistant to his advances. Perhaps he should just take her and then she would stop resisting because her body wouldn't allow her to deny him any longer.

 

“Sesshoumaru,” she breathed, placing a warm hand on his chest.

 

His control snapped and he devoured her mouth, savoring her sweetness and yearning for more than her lips. He had to take her somewhere—they couldn't do this here. Her father would hear, especially since he planned on making her scream.

 

She pushed harshly on his chest and broke the kiss. He then noticed a thin trail of blood oozing slowly down the side of her mouth. He had been too rough and now she smelt of fear. He hated that stench. Why was she afraid—because he accidentally scraped her tongue with his fang? His saliva could fix that little cut in no time.

 

“You need to leave,” she said sternly.

 

“I'm sorry, I guess I was overzealous,” he replied sincerely, deepening his voice as best he could, hoping it'd dissuade her.

 

“No, it's just what you are,” she said, turning her back, a reactionary gasp cutting the thickening air.

 

Bewilderment overtook him then; he thought she never minded that. He was born a demon and he couldn't help that fact anymore than he could help the fact that he wanted her. He looked down, feeling unduly shameful, fisting his hands in frustration as the question ran through his mind exhaustively. Has she suddenly turned her back on me because I'm youkai?

 

A coppery scent found his nose at that moment and he looked down, noticing blood dripping ever so slowly from his fists. His claws were shortening… His beast had revealed itself. She must have seen red eyes. Did she not know of his level of control? The beast did not rule him—he ruled it. But she didn't see that. Hopefully one day she would.

 

With that last thought he left soundlessly, refusing to look back when the salty cacophony of tears washed over his senses. Why was she in such turmoil? Why?

 

But the one thought that ruled his mind as he ran home that night, the scents of lust and fear melting into the wind, was the hope, the inner plea, that Kazuma was not right.

 

xxx

 

“Why don't I hear a fire crackling?” Kagome called from behind her favorite tree. He figured it must be her favorite simply due to its size; it was so large that he couldn't see around it and spot her even if he tried. He shook his head, tossing away remnants of bittersweet memories, not wishing to contemplate them right now. He had a fire to start.

 

x x x

 

The sun was setting and the sky was a masterpiece, splayed with fading blues and yellows. She figured the gods must be artists by nature, for only those with such an eye for beauty could create the wondrous things that replicate with each day. The sunset is reproduced every day's end and yet it's strikingly different each time, though its breathtaking beauty always remains.

 

She shoveled another helping of the salty noodles into her mouth, Inuyasha's face entering her mind for the first time that day. He loved ramen, though that was somewhat offensive at times, seeing as how he would prefer the instant noodles to her home cooking when the option was offered. She missed his snide remarks, as hard as that was to swallow, but she continued to wonder why he wasn't on her mind more often as of late. He always intruded upon her thoughts when she was in her own era, making life difficult to live in the place she truly belonged. But that wasn't a problem right now, which was even stranger considering a silver-haired, golden-eyed reminder was sitting across from her at that very moment. They weren't twins by any means, but you'd think the similar coloring alone would incite some reminiscing about the man who had managed to devour her life for the last four years. She wondered what Inuyasha was doing right now.

 

She set her styrofoam cup on the ground, her usually ceaseless appetite lost with her thoughts. Her eyes drifted to the silent demon lord, contemplating just how different he was from Inuyasha. Inuyasha had no home and no one, and thus a rough man was reared by the trials of a world that no child, especially a hanyou child, was ready to confront. Hardships made him abrupt and his audacity was necessary for him to survive in such an abusive world. A brash, strong and emotionally ill-equipped man was bred from a life of full responsibility and solitude. Inuyasha was just an unprepared boy, but that was to be expected. Then Kikyou came along, making her wonder if her incarnation had a hand in taming the wild Inuyasha. Then again, Inuyasha did remember his mother, a loving one at that. Perhaps Kikyou was just the saving grace for a man in need of saving—a man that wanted to be saved, because when his baser elements were deconstructed he was simply a good man.

 

Sesshoumaru, however, was a different story. It was precarious to think his childhood was similar to Inuyasha's and his regal demeanor alone hinted at his better-than-thou upbringing. He was well kept and highly mannered, his every word bequeathing education and discipline—things that taught from the earliest of ages. Such obvious knowledge left one question berating her mind like the dull thud of a continuous hammer, unrelenting till the nail was sufficiently secured. What went wrong with Sesshoumaru? Could it be that his foundation wasn't good like Inuyasha's, simply making him a bad person?

 

Or did someone make him bad?

 

“Am I that fascinating?”

 

“Huh?” she asked, feeling the heat spreading across her cheeks before she even registered his words. “Oh, no, I…uh…was just thinking and staring off into space, you know, the usual!” she said quickly, almost too quickly, waving her hands at him in hopes the motion would detract his eyes from her cherry-red cheeks.

 

He gave her that awful look again. She swore he showed more respect to the insects than he did to her. Did he respect insects? Well, he was pretty lenient toward that spider from hell! Then again, Sesshoumaru didn't really seem to respect much of anything or anyone, nor did he seem to disrespect much of anything either—except for Inuyasha.

 

She was beginning to think that rage and jealousy weren't Sesshouamru's central characteristics as she had once thought after many battles over an heirloom—an heirloom left to a half breed at that. No, it was becoming clear to her now, after these past few days, that Sesshoumaru's most dominant trait, or state of being if you will, was indifference.

 

“Sesshoumaru?” She awaited his acknowledgement, gulping down her fear, which was surprisingly easier to do than she had anticipated. Gold flashed her way and she spoke, caring not if the cold shoulder was to be his response. “Are you remembering anything? Like your father—you asked me about my upbringing and it seemed like—like you were thinking of your own father.” It was done. She had just asked Sesshoumaru a highly personal question. Now, what would he say? Probably nothing…

 

“Yes.”

 

She blinked, then again, her mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. She must look like an idiot, but that didn't matter, not when Sesshoumaru was willingly participating in a personal conversation!

 

“What do you remember exactly?”

 

He was staring straight at her and for the first time she felt no hostile intensity or intimidation from his eyes. His gaze was empty and full simultaneously, as though he was seeing, but not things in the physical world. These were things only he could see.

 

“My uncle…and a girl. I think her name was Hitomi. But the memories are broken.”

 

“Broken? Like snippets?”

 

He nodded. “As for my father, I know I look like him and that his presence lingered for days even when he was gone. But that is all.”

 

“What about your uncle and Hitomi?” She prayed to the gods she wasn't pressing her luck, but Sesshoumaru was opening up to her!

 

“Hitomi was beautiful and Uncle Kazuma…Kazuma was a hard man. And he was always right.”

 

Sesshoumaru's jaw drew taut, tightened muscles pursing his lips into a thin line. His eyes refocused and it finally occurred to her that Sesshoumaru was previously in the world of memories, abandoning the constraints of reality by allowing her to join his voyage into reminiscing. But the name Kazuma alone shattered this delightful interlude shared between two newly formed friends, shadowing his past once again.

 

She may never know what went wrong.

 

x x x

 

He had dreamt of flowers and laughter, sweet laughter that rang with innocence and love. He recalled white blossoms swaying in sync with a small breeze in the greenest of meadows while a child's giggles, even softer than the petals themselves, washed over him. He felt content. The dream was connecting and disconnecting all the same, relaying a sense of realness that felt too far from him to be real. It felt like a premonition, as though a seer had told him that happiness awaited him in a life to come. Or perhaps that little girl's laugh was an experience of a past life, a recollection he was never meant to remember.

 

He wished he could've slept forever, the breeze warming his face as he listened to a little girl enjoy the world around her, but the stars once again shattered the beauty that was his dreamscape, a feeling of malcontent coming over him. His mind shouted in alert until he rose with haste, a familiar scent wafting by his nose, one he had smelt recently for that matter. But the scent was short lived as a tingling sensation raked the outermost layer of his epidermis, the hairs on his arms rising fractionally in response. He supposed many people wouldn't realize such a subtle shift in the air, but he did; he could even smell it, and it was saturated in power.

 

He stood silently, sparing a glance at Kagome to see if she stirred, but she didn't appear to be waking. The wind was rushing, but nothing stirred. An eruption, a crash, a muffled scream and lots of blood. A light was fading from the dark backdrop of night and he ventured toward it, expectation of the known driving his steady footsteps. Why did this chain of events not surprise him in the least?

 

He was waiting for something to happen, but what he could not describe; though he wished it were possible. Perhaps that was his problem lately—the fact that the possible was indefinite. He had yet to truly know himself.

 

The blood hung heavy in the air now and he knew it was some distance away, but not too far to where his feet couldn't take him expediently. As soon as he moved to propel himself forward, he stopped. Hesitation consumed him and a piercing thought rummaged through his mind like a ruthless bandit, blade in hand.

 

Should he leave Kagome here, unprotected?

 

The scent of blood remained thick, weighing down the air around him, making his indecision all the more potent, but the wind had changed yet again. He supposed that meant he had missed his opportunity to meet his stalker, but he felt sure another chance would happen upon him.

 

Dawn was nearing; there was no mistake, for every one of his senses picked up on its subtle cues. The air was warming, that he could feel; the insects were quieting and the birds were rising, that he could hear; the stars' brightness was fading with the blackened sky, that he could see; and the breeze smelt sweeter, signaling the fresh break of day; that much he could smell. Despite knowing this much, Kagome would not wake for some time to come.

 

x x x

 

The steam rose so delicately and swirled upward so gracefully that she mused it was a dragon, ascending toward the heavens on a cloud of glory.

 

“Well, I'm glad you feel good about your classes,” her mother said conversationally.

 

“Yeah, I studied real hard.” She knew what her mother was thinking. The confidence Kagome sported about her grades surprised her mother. Inuyasha didn't have a very good history of being conducive to school.

 

“I'm proud of you, Kagome. You've been over there a lot lately. I thought I'd see more of you during such important times as exams.”

 

She always came home a few days before tests these past few months. No more all-nighters and morning runs to school spent frantically recalling complex equations. She had been more prudent about her future lately, much to her mother's joy, but her mother still worried that she would fall back into that hopeless rut of chasing demons and an unobtainable boy's heart. Things really had changed.

 

Her mother sipped her tea, eyes closed and thoughts heavy. She could always tell these things. Sometimes, she wondered, had her father lived, would she be able to read her mother so impeccably? All they really had was each other, and so the other's heart was always on display for the other to see. Grandpa was too old and Souta too young, and thus a profound bond between mother and daughter had been born, only to evolve even more deeply over the years.

 

Like that time she cried by the sacred tree. Her heart was hurting and her eyes burning, and her mother held her and said what needed to be said. And she returned to Inuyasha, knowing what she needed to know…

 

Inuyasha… I wonder what he's doing?

 

“I noticed you took a lot of bandages,” her mother said, startling her out of her reverie. “Has someone been seriously hurt?”

 

Sesshoumaru…

 

“Mama?” she began uncertainly, not sure how to word her thoughts. “Have you ever started to know someone and realized how wrong you were about them?”

 

“Why of course. When I first met your father I thought he was an arrogant womanizer! And he was anything but.” Her mother smiled faintly, her eyelids heavy as she stared toward the floor, a loving gaze enrapturing aging eyes. Her mother suddenly looked so much older.

 

She missed her father, but her mother must miss him even more. Perhaps she should tell her mother that she ate an an-dango the other day.

 

“Are you staying for dinner, dear?”

 

“Yeah, I'll help cook!”

 

“Good. Then you can tell me all about him,” her mother said as she rose from her seat, teacup in hand.

 

Her mother really did know her.

 

x x x

 

He followed his nose to his destination, his mind still rolling over the events of the day thus far. He had stolen, or rather borrowed, one of Kagome's books while she slept that morning. It was a bit confusing, but the words spoke of a rationale beyond his comprehension, which only served to fuel his determination to figure out `microeconomics.' And that was why he didn't return the book to its proper place. He still felt slightly guilty about swiping the book and not telling Kagome, but she said today was her last exam and she hadn't been reading that one, so he assumed she was done with it anyway and he simply needed something to do to pass the time.

 

After she left, he ventured out to the place where that power had been unleashed earlier that morning. The scent of demon blood led him straight to it. The ground had deep, symmetrical grooves in it, three to be precise, all of which converged together at one point—the point where the most blood rested. Other than that, there were no indications as to what could've caused such an extreme upheaval of land. He felt certain he would figure out this mystery. Just looking at the marks made his stomach churn. There was something so very familiar about it.

 

Now he was off to the nearest human village, the one in which he supposed Kagome resided. With bathing suit in hand and a determined stride, he was set on mending her favorite suit that he had rendered useless. He could already smell the village. Smoke, dung and herbs hung in the air as though suspended there by its obscenity, for even the ground refused to absorb such disgusting and overpowering scents. He would deal with it though. He needed to fix what he had ruined.

 

He reached the outer perimeter of the little village where men drove plow horses and held large tools in their hands. He quickly realized that this was a very poor village and begun to second-guess his previous assumption. Kagome smelt nice and dressed cleanly, unlike these commoners. Their clothes were nothing like the ones Kagome adorned, and thus he concluded that Kagome must come from a wealthy family. Perhaps this village was her home and she was simply an elite and so her home would be isolated in the back, away from the unpleasant peasants.

 

As he neared the working men, he inhaled the scents of dirt and sweat, so musty they were that he had to suppress the urge to gag. The men noticed his presence and fear intertwined quickly with their grotesque smells, making them all the more distasteful. A few stood still, as though frozen in ice, while one ran off and the remaining ones dropped to their knees, their foreheads connecting with the ground.

 

“P-please…d-demon lord…spare us!”

 

He stopped mid-stride, taken aback by the men's pleas, confusion and reproach threading through his mind. Did humans always desperately cling onto their own pathetic lives? He couldn't help but to think of them as ridiculous and selfish creatures. The moment was briefly forgotten as the smells of fish and mushrooms overtook his olfactory senses, blocking out all else and thankfully so. Then he heard himself speak, though he wasn't even aware that he had willed the words.

 

“I do not eat human food.”

 

“Huh? Oh-oh, I m-mean, thank you, milord! Thank you for not eating us! May the gods bless you!”

 

He watched the men scrambled to their feet and rush away from him with sloppy, hurried steps. They were running for their lives as though he would change his mind at any second and devour them whole. They were nothing but fools. Their scents alone discouraged that particular course of action.

 

He clutched the smooth fabric tighter in his hands, his anger at those humans' impudence growing. He was only here to have Kagome's bathing suit mended and here they were—

 

Kagome… She is nothing like these humans…or Hitomi….

 

His anger cooling, he set off into the village, ignoring the stares and gasps, finally realizing just how disconnected humans and demons really were. He and Kagome had a very odd relationship indeed.

 

After tiring of all the ruckus, he finally demanded one of the village wenches to find him a seamstress to mend Kagome's garment. She hesitantly led him to a small hut where an elderly woman and a young apprentice resided.

 

He stared at the old hag. Age was unkind to her and death clinged to her person. She was horrendous to every one of his senses, but she didn't fear him like the others had, which he found interesting.

 

“How may help you, demon?” she asked, not bothering to mask her exhaustion and spite.

 

“I need this garment mended, old woman.”

 

He held the suit out to her, which she accepted immediately, inspecting it from the second it met her aged fingertips. Her apprentice trembled and exuded fear, which heightened exponentially when he turned his attention to her. He found her antics disgusting.

 

“Tell me, old woman, why do you not fear me as do all the other people residing in this village?” he asked plainly, though he remained curious.

 

“I am an old widow, death beckons me. Why should I fear a demon whose only threat to me is the possibility that he may grant my dearest wish? Sen, fetch me needle and thread.”

 

“So, you can fix it?”

 

“Yes. The thread won't match, but it'll work just fine. What is this cloth made from? A demon's skin perhaps?” she asked curiously, her eyes continuing to roam the odd fabric.

 

“That is none of your concern.” The old woman does not recognize this fabric either. How curious… “How long will this take?”

 

“A little while. You may return for it if you wish.”

 

He nodded curtly and exited the hut, not wanting to smell old decay and young fear any longer. He stepped out into the sunlight, new and similarly menacing scents crossing his nose. He looked down at his attire and realized how very different it was from these humans' dress. He wore baggy gray pants that stretched significantly and a large white shirt with shortened sleeves and a blue swoosh-like symbol across his chest. Coupled with his demonic appearance, he looked quite foreign in comparison to these people. Where did Kagome get her clothes made?

 

He felt intense stares fixate upon his body, more intense than he had previously encountered in this village. There was a degree of power within these eyes that looked upon him and his head turned to evaluate this minimal threat, though some fear lingered within them.

 

An old woman, bow in hand and a patch over one eye stared at him, a look of shock plastered on her face. She was not alone. A young woman and a holy man stood at her side, their eyes all transfixed on him, the young man clutching his staff with whitened knuckles. Their powers were meager in comparison to his own, this he knew. He wouldn't even have spared them a second glance had the young man not spoken. It was a whisper rather, uttered strangely under his breath as though not meant for his ears, but his youkai hearing didn't miss a syllable, let alone a beat of their hearts, and hence his attention was now focused intently upon the trio a short distance away.

 

“Sesshoumaru…”

 

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