InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Temporal Sequence ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Temporal Sequence

 

Chapter 9:

 

xxx

 

The sun was shining and the breeze was cool, the effervescence of fresh spring surrounding him, though his spirits remained deadened, likened to the frigid winter just past. He found himself in a meadow where he should've stilled himself to admire its subtle beauty, untouched by man and preserved from drought and war. But these things mattered not anymore as he walked briskly through the soft grass, not caring to notice that nature was all around him, offering him a tranquility that had been long lost with the simplicity inherent in something as unappreciated as newly born blades of grass.

 

The serenity of being that had evaded him with the absence of a remarkable father, the entrance of a hardened uncle and the rejection of a human woman who was undeserving of his attentions from the very beginning. He had grown weary of disrespecting himself—something he would never do ever again.

 

He smelt the human female, who possessed a nostalgic scent of sorts, before he felt her presence and even before he heard her footfalls, light as they were, fall upon the grass below her feet. She held a power he was unaccustomed to, but not completely unfamiliar with, but that knowledge did little to spark his curiosity since those with holy powers shied away from him, knowing their powers were too weak to challenge his own. He continued walking quickly, as he always did, not interested in fleeting meetings or useless pleasantries—that was, until the woman who was a miko did something unexpected.

 

“Demon,” she said authoritatively, yelling, so her voice would travel across the meadow. “You approach a peaceful village. Turn back now and leave us. We have no need for youkai here.” He stopped then, fascination threading its way through him as he heard her draw an arrow and notch it in her bow. Though the string was taut with resistance and steadied with confidence, her fear was so visible he could reach out and touch it.

 

He looked at her from over his shoulder, only then noticing the traditional garbs of a miko that had thrived throughout the centuries and would probably continue to thrive even longer since the Japanese revered tradition as they did. She was homely and her face was scarred from battle, though he was sure such an experienced miko had yet to cross paths with a youkai like him. Of all the brief encounters he had had with humans possessing holy powers never once had any raised a weapon or even a threat toward him, until now.

 

“I suggest you lower your weapon. I have no use for humans. Your meager village is insignificant.”

 

“Perhaps to you it is. However insignificant it may be to a vicious demon does not diminish the threat you pose to it. Turn back now, demon!”

 

He turned fully to her, staring at her blankly and bewildered that she ignored his warning and stood her ground. He usually wouldn't waste his time with a second warning, but he was curious. What would she do? Would she actually release her arrow and try to purify him?

 

“No.” It was plain and simple and her defiant reaction would teach him much about humans and thus catalyze his future actions toward her species, though she would never know that. He saw the twitch of muscle flex in her right forearm, the hand holding back the string tightening as her eye rolled over him and focused on an exact point in the space between them. She was aiming.

 

He wasted no time as he lunged forward, legs propelling his feet in a speed she had never witnessed and her surprise didn't escape him. Her defiance was almost respectable, almost, and her determination led her hand to relax, arrow driving forward, left arm taut with practiced fluency as her target moved toward her with deadly intent. If her arrow missed, she was dead. Her aim was perfect, but she ultimately failed to realize what was rapidly approaching her—failure.

 

His right arm extended, the arrow reached his body within a meter of her and he released his energy whip from its confines, all the while releasing drops of liquid poison at a time until the whip was coated in the deadly substance. Then in a flash of light and green mist, the arrow split—two pieces of wood flying in opposite directions, already well behind the demon moving at a speed too fast for her to follow. Her gasp was faint and stifled since her throat was already pressed between his thumb and index finger, her feet dangling limply while suspended in air, her blood already running through his fingers and down his hand.

 

“Fool.”

 

“B-but,” she managed to speak, her difficulties astounding, “my ho-hol-y p-ow—“

 

“Are but a shadow of nothingness in comparison to my youki.”

 

He was about to crush her windpipe and end this charade when he realized something of vital importance that had somehow managed to escape his sight until that point in time. The acid from his whip had splattered across her face. Her flesh was burning and her eyes were but vacant sockets. He could already see bone peeking through charred flesh. She was as good as dead now. The poison would spread through her bloodstream rather quickly, at best giving her only a couple more hours of painstaking life.

 

Humans were so fragile and so brief that their permeating fear was almost understandable. They fought against great odds to preserve their small lives and every now and then their lack of sense and instinct led them into battles they could not possibly win. They were simply too weak. And the weakest of them all were like the miko in his grasp—too concerned with the welfare of others to remember their own self-preservation. She was nothing but a fool. Had he wanted to slaughter her entire village, he would've simply done so, and there was nothing she could've done to stop him. Luckyily for her, he didn't entertain such a notion. She wasted her life on a ridiculous concept—protection.

 

He realized then what her scent reminded him of, though it was virtually unimportant now. She smelt like an old magnolia tree covered in fresh snow. The scent was fading as his poison overwhelmed her body and soon enough that magnolia that represented her scent would fade as the old tree fell prey to the death of winter. Her resilient nature would fail as had she, at protecting her own life, which was what she should've been concerned about from the start.

 

He dropped her on the ground and turned back to resume his walk toward a destination he didn't know, nor did he care to know. He never looked back as he walked on with the fleeting knowledge that he'd just left a woman for dead.

 

And it didn't bother him in the least.

 

xxx

 

Now, two holy humans stood before him with a demon slayer, but the older human woman demanded his attention, though the monk who said his name should've demanded more of it. The demon slayer stood idly beside the elderly woman and the miko's eye patch only served to heighten his nostalgia as he stared at the two. That miko he had killed long ago was a warrior, life devoted to slaughtering youkai, and he had taken away her eyes.

 

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” the old miko said with a voice ragged from age and rasped with wisdom, “what brings ye to this human village? We are destitute and uninteresting and I assure ye nothing here is worthy of ye attentions.”

 

They definitely knew of him. How, though, was what he wanted to know, making this place highly interesting to him, contrary to her words.

 

“Surely ye have ye reasons.”

 

Yes, to repair what he had damaged, but her attitude toward him sparked a multitude of questions. Was he known as a rational demon? He figured that much based upon his exhaustive inquiry of all that surrounded him. That thought made him speculate the reason he killed that miko all those years ago. Why did he kill that miko again? He simply didn't know.

 

“I am here to repair a garment.”

 

They stared at him in unadulterated curiosity and near disbelief.

 

“Speaking of garments,” the monk stated strangely, “where did you come to possess such interesting clothing?”

 

The monk was eyeing him oddly and by the slight inflection of his voice, Sesshoumaru knew something was amiss. He felt the tang of deceit roll over his tongue to settle sourly in his jaw, tightening the muscle with intangible spite. He didn't like that particular sensation.

 

“Do I know you, monk?” he asked as his eyes fell upon the purple-clad man, pinning him with a glacial glare. This man was sly, he could tell, and Sesshoumaru found him overall distasteful.

 

“Well,” the man said while scratching his head in pseudo embarrassment, “not really, but that's to be expected, right?”

 

“How so?” Sesshoumaru demanded, hoping his tone of voice would be enough to deter this man from further deceit. The monk then took on an expression that could only be described as flabbergasted, thusly ensuring Sesshoumaru that his plan had indeed been a success.

 

“Huh? I mean, uh, I'm human.”

 

“And?” he prodded, hoping to excrete as much information as possible.

 

“And you hate humans,” the monk said with an interesting tone bordering on disbelief.

 

That much he had figured, though the reality of Kagome's increasing camaraderie made him question the truth behind that assertion. Was his disdain for humans an act, a façade—was there something more? Or did the fact that Kagome wanted to help him through this recent ordeal soften his hatred of her kind? He knew his dislike of them was real, he felt the distaste settle in the back of his throat like bitter sake only worthy of spitting out in good riddance—their weakness, fallibility, their ridiculous notions and conceptions all accumulating to brand them as an ultimately inferior and unworthy species. And yet, Kagome was there and something told him he had never really needed her in the first place. He sat next to her, talked to her, jested and jostled her and even swam with her.

 

Why? Maybe he simply had no true conception of who he was, though an inner voice hinted at a predisposed nature of hostility that seemed so foreign yet so native to him. He remembered the bitterness and dispassion left behind by a departing father and picked up and cultivated by a cold uncle. He recalled mercilessly killing a woman with no reason other than a whim based upon a misconceived sense of disobedience. What kind of person was he?

 

And the worst part was what his mind had been repeatedly asking him all the while—`why care?'

 

“Why are you here, Sesshoumaru-sama?” the younger female asked, her oversized weapon giving away her position in life, though that fact bothered him little. “You haven't come after Tetsusaiga again, have you? I-I, don't mean to pry, but I can think of no other explanation and I had thought you stopped that particular quest, seeing how useless it is and all.” The slayer oozed anxiety, apparently thinking she said things she shouldn't have and subsequently fearing the consequences.

 

Tetsusaiga? Oh yes, Kagome had mentioned that name before. What was it again?

 

The monk immediately put a hand on the woman's arm and stepped forward, a curious gleam in his eye. “Sesshoumaru-sama, can you tell me what Tetsusaiga is?”

 

The monk was clever, but he supposed a conniving man should be. The monk was setting a trap, the Tetsusaiga bait to ensnare him. A dog never likes to be cornered and neither did Sesshoumaru. Before his mind could even register what he was doing, the monk's neck was in his grasp and he idly wondered if this was his body's natural reaction to human defiance. Maybe it was his way of demonstrating his superiority; they were simply helpless in this position.

 

He heard several footsteps encircle him and the slayer unstrapped her weapon and the spiritual powers of the miko flared. He was surrounded by armed men, awaiting the instructions of the old miko, whom they obviously respected on a profound level. It was meaningless; he already knew they were powerless against him.

 

“Tell me how we met,” Sesshoumaru demanded through gritted teeth, thinking it abominable that these humans had figured out his secret. His blood was boiling with rage that they now knew he was nothing more than a blank slate. He loosened his grip a bit to aid the monk's speech.

 

“I travel with your younger brother, Inuyasha. You came after him one night for the Tetsusaiga and I aided him in fending you off. You would have killed me had it not been for Lady Kagome. But I do not think us great enemies anymore, not since you learned Naraku deceived you—“

 

All fell on deaf ears at that moment and Sesshoumaru's grip softened. Kagome… This man was speaking of his Kagome. He felt the rough ache of a blade sliding into his back and the monk yelled in protest. Sesshoumaru sensed the men falling back and the miko begging something of him. She feared his reaction, and naturally so. The blood was warm as it ran down his back, bleeding through the gray cloth Kagome had provided him. Again, he had ruined something that belonged to Kagome, but she had given it to him so it shouldn't matter, but somehow he knew that was a rare honor for someone like him.

 

Kagome knew these people and supposedly he did as well. It would be foolish to kill the indignant man for his transgression, as rightful as he would be to injure the man in return. Kagome might be angry if he sought his revenge and, for whatever reason, that thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

 

The monk bowed low before him, holding prayer beads in his left hand, his right hand clenched tightly and held close to his chest as though in anticipation of an inevitable battle. “Please, Sesshoumaru-sama, I beg for your mercy. The man did not know any better. He followed his instincts. Humans feel the need to protect. Please, I beg of you to understand.”

 

He understood. He had killed them before because that faulty instinct provided him the opportunity to introduce them to death. He also knew holy men were wise, for this was not the first time he had encountered one.

 

xxx

 

It had been fifty years since the last and only time he had passed this village. He would have thought nothing of it either had it not been for burning wood and incense that carried with it an earthy smell laced with a scent that should have perished long ago and was only freshly decayed. And so he followed the scent until he reached a funeral procession that had stilled for prayers of remembrance and good tidings in the afterlife.

 

Old magnolias covered in fresh snow, and the tree had finally succumbed to winter and the snow frozen in ice.

 

He stood still, his height permitting him to see the body. An aged woman's corpse was covered in new garbs, red and white, and made of silk. Her skin was dry and splotched from years of hard labor and exposure to a relentless sun. Her eyes were covered with a black mask of sorts that extended past the bridge of her nose and disappeared behind both ears, the rest covered by brittle gray hair. Her scars were almost invisible now, but calluses remained pervasive on her hands where she held her bow strong.

 

The miko had lived somehow and survived into old age where disease had taken her instead of the poison of a powerful demon. It was remarkable to say the least. He stood there, perplexed and fascinated that a human had survived his poison when a man vied for his attention. He turned reluctantly and met the eyes of a young monk.

 

“Have you come to pay homage to the revered Aiko-sama?”

 

“I am just passing through,” he replied, silently wondering why the monk was not more displeased to see a demon at a miko's burial, or in a human village for that matter.

 

“I see. Since you are here I must tell you of her or else the gods may frown upon me. She was wise and compassionate. Her power was great, but not as great as her heart. She took sympathy on all, human and demon alike.”

 

“Demon?” Sesshoumaru couldn't filter the surprise from his voice.

 

“Yes. She was once a warrior miko, aimed at ending the lives of youkai, thinking all of them evil and thirsting for human blood. But one day, she confronted a youkai with the intent to kill him. He took her sight, but not her life. She realized then that fortune had smiled upon her, though fate had decided to teach her this important lesson by painful means. You see the path we walk upon is the path we are meant to tread. The key to happiness, therefore, does not lie in power, as the great miko once thought, but in our ability to decipher life's tests and its subtle lessons, and to learn from them. Adversity teaches us what it truly means to be a good person. Thus, fulfillment is derived from enlightenment. How would we know what is good if we do not understand what is evil?”

 

“You think evil is ignorance?”

 

“Yes. An evil soul may be knowledgeable, but that dark soul lacks the ability to understand what is really before him. Enlightenment is knowledge of what is true. Truth leads to good and good leads to happiness.”

 

“Hn,” he nearly spat, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Tell me, do you strive to understand truth?”

 

His eyes drifted away from the young monk and grazed over the crowd gathered around a meager shrine, soft chants filling the air. He didn't show the miko mercy that day nearly fifty years ago, but she had deciphered it as such and it changed her life. She had found happiness indirectly through him. It was a strange thought, one that crawled under his skin uncomfortably, which was something Sesshoumaru was unaccustomed to experiencing.

 

He thought the monk and the dead miko fools that day, spouting about truth and enlightenment and contentment being intricately intertwined. When really the truth of the matter was that the miko had misinterpreted the situation and deciphered a falsity. He didn't spare her and, therefore, truth wasn't what had ultimately brought her happiness. She had lived a lie.

 

However, he would find himself visiting that same monk again and again.

 

xxx

 

Mercy—he had felt the need for it before, but his uncle had forcefully ridded him of it. The concept of mercy was reintroduced that day and he held it close thereafter, displaying it at his discretion, which was highly affected by his mood. But never had he chosen to show mercy when a person had directly violated him in any manner. He was certain he had granted mercy on numerous occasions, though he could not recall when or why, but this man had stabbed him. Not a killing blow or even a lasting wound, but still the man had violated him.

 

The monk's pleas were as useless as they were meaningless, and Sesshoumaru heard the mountainous gasps of surprise and alleviation when he walked away, demonstrating the rarest form of mercy he could've ever accomplished. A human stabbed him, and he did nothing more than slowly retreat, not wanting anything to do with these lowly mortal creatures. The irony of it all was that the truth behind his course of action this day lay with a human female, who was so far away at the moment that he couldn't even detect the faintest trace of her scent.

 

And none of these people would ever know the truth behind his reasoning this day, leaving them to interpret it as they wished.

 

x x x

 

“Another one of those scholarship applications arrived in the mail again,” her mother said enthusiastically as she shuffled through the mail.

 

“The one from Tokyo U?”

 

“Yep,” her mother replied, holding the infamous letter out for inspection. This was the third time that particular letter came.

 

“Just throw it away,” Kagome replied, refusing to let hope blind her from the reality of things.

 

“Why?” her mother asked, disappointment littering her voice.

 

“Come on, mom, be realistic. I barely graduated high school and it took longer than the average student.”

 

“But there's nothing average about you, dear.”

 

“More like below average.”

 

“But you're doing well in community college.”

 

“I've just completed my second semester. I haven't even gotten my grades back yet!”

 

“But you felt good about them, right?”

 

“That's not the point, mom. I filled out some of those scholarship finders or what not and that's why they keep coming—not because I'm some exceptional student or something. I'll never get a scholarship.” She could feel the dejection filling her voice, furthering her frustration. She wanted to go to Tokyo U. It was a great university with a stellar psychology department. But the truth of the matter was that she'd never get in, nor could she ever afford to get in.

 

“Good grades in community college is the gateway to acceptance into a respectable university. You know this. That's why you're doing it and working so hard to boot!”

 

“Pipe dreams, mom, pipe dreams. I just need some sort of degree. You and I both know that I'll never get a scholarship, especially a good one that would put me through college. And if I did, it would probably be some second rate university on the other side of the country.”

 

Pipe Dreams—that was the story of Kagome's life. On her fifteenth birthday, Kagome had no need for dreams, or rather she had abandoned them. She made pretty good grades, though they usually fell short of her friends' marks, and she had a fulfilling social life and a supportive family offering her comfort each day's start and end. But school was boring and so she didn't really entertain thoughts of college, thinking she'd deal with that road when it came, which happened too abruptly when it did. Boys seemed to like her for the most part, though she found virtually all of her admirers uninteresting, as she seemed to find most things in her serene, insignificant little life.

 

Then, she was pulled into a well and saw a slumbering boy who was fated to mark the god tree and her life by a spellbound arrow, fired by her incarnate of all people. Her life in the present was made difficult by her life in the past, but perhaps that was Fate's plan all along—to make things exciting for her. But it came at a cost and now all those things she neglected before her fifteenth birthday suddenly seemed so very important.

 

She would never see Tokyo U and make her mother proud like every parent became when their child succeeded in a way they did not.

 

She couldn't blame that on Inuyasha like she did when she decided to spend more time in her own era. She suddenly felt bad for the way she treated him. Guilt pooled in her belly when she thought over the things she had said to him.

 

xxx

 

She thought she could see every star in the sky. It was so clustered and speckled that the navy backdrop almost seemed nonexistent, as though the sky itself was made of nothing more than bright, sparkling stars. Maybe tonight wasn't a good time to talk about this, but she already made the mistake of setting the discussion in motion, thus solidifying the end of the night's former beauty.

 

“Will you get on with it already?”

 

Inuyasha was being harsh, but that was expected. It wasn't because he was impatient and evasive of more intimate matters, but rather that he tensed from the moment he grasped her hand at the lip of the well. He must have smelt her apprehension; there was no other explanation.

 

No use in delaying; there's no better time than the present.

 

That thought almost made her laugh, seeing as how she was presently in the past, five hundred years to be exact. And that was her problem right now. Time was not on her side, and it hadn't been—not since she met Inuyasha.

 

“I'm going to spend more time in my era. I enrolled in community college back home.”

 

“What? But you just spent a whole month there! You said your mom would stop you from coming back for good if you didn't do that summer school or whatever it was!” He was angry, but he always was when it came to this particular topic.

 

“I know. I did what I had to do. I'm tired, Inuyasha. Tired of leading a double life and tired of disappointing my family. I need to start thinking of my future, you know.”

 

“Well duh! That's exactly why we need to find the remaining jewel shards and defeat Naraku for good! There'll be no future as long as he's around!” He pumped his fist in the air to emphasize his point, like he always did when he got on his high horse. He was missing the point, however, like usual.

 

She felt something then that she wouldn't recognize until after the fact. Her gut twisted and her temple throbbed, the aching leaving a bitter taste in the back of her throat as though she had just regurgitated her supper. She was bitter.

 

“You're so stubborn, Inuyasha. I agreed to help you get your revenge and all, but you always forget how hard it is for me!” she said a little more harshly than she had intended.

 

“My revenge? Have you forgotten that you're the one that broke the damn jewel! Don't be stupid, Kagome. You're honor-bound to fix your mistake,” he replied in a similar tone, which only further fueled that bitterness accumulating in her mouth.

 

“Stupid? I guess you're right as always, Inuyasha. I am pretty stupid. Stupid for putting my life on hold to follow around a hard-headed hanyou and getting nothing in return. And yeah, I broke the jewel. And it probably wouldn't have gotten broken in the first place if you hadn't tried to steal it from me!” she said as she stood abruptly, pointing an accusing finger at him all the while.

 

She had never called him a hanyou before.

 

“Well, excuse me for being a little pissed off! I had just woken up from a fifty-year-old spell to see a girl that looked a lot like the woman that put me under that spell!” He stood then, even leaning in a bit to invade her personal space, knowing that would further rake her nerves that were highly sensitive at the moment.

 

“And you seem to forget to appreciate who freed you from that stupid spell! Poor, poor Inuyasha. I'm sorry I forget how hard life has been for you. I just thought that someone like you that has been through so much would be more understanding. But then again, you are dense. You were too dense to figure out that you were being deceived, so I guess you're too dense to see what's going on in front of your face right now! Your friend is exhausted and all you can think of is yourself. You're so selfish, Inuyasha. I am going to spend more time at home and that's final! If you're so pissed off about it, why not go find your perfect Kikyou to help you find those precious shards!”

 

He looked absolutely crestfallen in the starlight. She suddenly wished the stars' light would diminish and darkness would reign in that moment. That way, she wouldn't have to see his expression so clearly. She felt ashamed, taking a step back, fearful of his hurt and wishing to distance herself from she had just caused.

 

“I'm sorry I'm so selfish, Kagome,” he said softly, too softly. “I guess I just don't know any other way to live. It's always been just me before you came around. Do what you need to.”

 

And then he walked away. He didn't run away or take to the trees like he usually did if he were to turn his back. He didn't even huff or puff or explode, falling into a sitting position—arms crossed, back rigid, expression hard—which was most common in instances like these when they fought. It was odd and uncomfortable and so very cold, and it grew colder with every step he took that carried his body farther and farther away from her.

 

She began to think she had never regretted anything more in her entire life.

 

xxx

 

“Kagome, are you all right?” her mother asked softly, concern written on her voice.

 

She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, hoping that memory would vanish with the phlegm coating the back of her mouth. “Yeah, what were you saying again?”

 

The worry remained evident in her mother's eyes. “Just promise me you'll look at it when you get back. I already filled out the necessary information for you on the last application they sent. All you have to do is write the essay.”

 

She sighed, very audibly. “Mom—“

 

“Kagome, please. I know how much you want to go there and this scholarship is offered by their psychology department—the very department you'd be in! This scholarship is need-based and gives special consideration to students currently enrolled in community college or those who have already obtained an associate's degree. You see—it's written right here!”

 

She didn't need to look; she had already read the application. She couldn't bring herself to throw it away, though she knew she'd never win such a prestigious scholarship. It offered enough money to put her through seven or more years at Tokyo U. She knew the recipient would be a stellar student with sky high marks that went to community college near her small home so that she could nurse her dying mother back to health, all the while engaging in extensive community service. So why did she hold onto the application again? Hope—it was all she had left, though it had a history of failing her.

 

She had once hoped for her father to return to her. She was left with young disappointment. She had once hoped to be a great student to make her mother proud. She was left far short of her goal. She had once hoped to wake from her nightmare after falling through a time portal in her backyard. She was left sourly disillusioned. She had once hoped to protect a sacred jewel from harm. She was left wallowing in her own inadequacy. She had once hoped to successfully live a double life. She was left acutely mistaken. She had once hoped for a boy's heart. She was left desperately wanting.

 

After all that disappointment had scarred her life, surely hope would eventually fulfill her. That was why she hadn't thrown it away like reason had instructed her. Maybe this was to be her reward for enduring so much disappointment.

 

“Please, honey. You want it so bad and I can't give it to you. You must try to find a way into Tokyo U.”

 

“What if I don't get it?” she asked, feeling smaller than she could ever recall.

 

“There's always next year and you have to try. I just don't want you to have any regrets.”

 

x x x

 

She jumped through the well without even thinking about it, which struck her as odd as she climbed out of the wooden relic. Lately, her mind ran circles, stalling her in her descent through time. She worried about anything and everything, suddenly realizing that she carried too much with her everywhere she went. When she was in the past, she should leave the future where it was—five hundred years away and out of reach. She would like to think she should do the same with the future, leaving the past behind while she was there, but that's not how life worked; the past was always with her, beckoning for a reexamination at some point or another. Memories were ignited by all sorts of stimuli and there was no way to prevent it.

 

Like now—climbing out of the well had been a chore as of late. Inuyasha wasn't there to help her out and all because she had lied to him. She pondered her decision to deceive Inuyasha as she traversed through the woods and to his eccentricity of a brother, half or not. A small part of her felt guilty, but a larger part of her was glad. Glad because she was seeing something that she would never otherwise experience. A detour into the life and mind of Sesshoumaru, or at least as much as he would offer.

 

She continued on this line of thinking, silently giggling to herself as she thought about the swimming fiasco. He was fun, oddly enough, and he legitimately seemed to want her to have a good time. She even swore she saw him genuinely smile, though she couldn't be sure since she was on his back at the time. That was a nice thought she had neglected—Sesshoumaru gave her piggyback rides! It was almost too priceless to ponder! He was so fast and she could feel every muscle move on his back and…

 

Oh. Gods. He has a nice back. Stop now, Kagome.

 

Just as she began to chastise herself, she entered the little clearing where she had made camp for several days now. She immediately spotted Sesshoumaru sitting on a log by the fire pit, where he usually sat as still as a rock. She smiled and for some inexplicable reason she felt like she shouldn't be smiling, but no matter how hard she tried to end the grin's reign, she simply failed and gave up trying. When she noticed that delightful back she was previously thinking of her smile finally loosened its hold.

 

“You're bleeding!” she said as she ran to him, dropping her backpack in a forgotten heap.

 

She immediately crouched down and inspected the wound, peering through the small hole in his shirt. Not able to see much, she pushed her hand gently through the hole and ran her hand along his back. He gasped—softly, almost inaudibly—she was glad she didn't miss it.

 

“It's healed,” she said, removing her hand, almost reluctantly. “What happened?” He said nothing for a while and when she was about to stand in frustration and swear at him, he spoke.

 

“I killed a priestess.”

 

That was not what she expected to hear.

 

“Except I didn't.”

 

“What?”

 

“A long time ago,” he drawled, “a miko challenged me and I sliced her arrow.” He held up his hand, inspecting his claws as though they were foreign to him. “My poison blinded her and undoubtedly entered her blood through her eyes. I left her for dead.”

 

She waited for him to say more and when he didn't, she decided to help him along. “But you said you didn't kill her?”

 

“Fifty years or so later I passed that same village and saw her body. She was old and had just parted for the afterlife. She had thrived and I was simply fascinated that she did. I did not feel remorse for my actions and no regret for leaving a woman for dead. A monk once told me that regret is an inevitable part of life, the greatest of regrets being the result of hurting people, especially loved ones.”

 

Her heart stopped for a split second as she listened to him, his words pricking her chest. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was trying to kill her.

 

“I did it again, I think. I killed another woman. I hear her scream and see nothing but a green fog. And I feel no regret."

 

Oh, gods, that sounds familiar…

 

“I told that monk I regret nothing I have done, except for not killing my late father's mistress. He told me that only bad people harbor no genuine regrets and then tells me to think about that.”

 

She feels her heart pumping then and it aches. It didn't ache for her and her regret, or for Inuyasha, or for her hardships in leading a dichotomized life. It didn't ache for the things in which she thought it should. It ached for Sesshoumaru.

 

“I am a bad person. Why? Why, Kagome, are you here?”

 

He looked at her then, eyes darkened with regret for perhaps the first true time in all his life. He seemed to be looking to her for an answer and she simply couldn't deny him, but she didn't know what to say. He was a bad person, sometimes—perhaps most of the time—but there was a little girl somewhere who was no doubt sick with worry for him. Yet, she didn't know what to say to him.

 

So she acted on impulse, and perhaps instinct, and did the only thing that crossed her mind, though she did it so quickly that she could hardly believe what she did, nor could she assert that she gave it any kind of thought at all.

 

She hugged him.

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist as he sat rigidly on the ground, legs crossed, her own legs straddling one of his thighs, her calf pushing into one of his, and she hugged him. She tried to convey to him in that one extraordinary moment that he wasn't alone and that she cared. She wanted to tell him that the world wasn't miserable enough to dismiss even the worst of people, and she tried to tell him in her own way that he was far from the worst of people. She wondered if he could feel it. Inuyasha always told her that actions spoke louder than words, and she believed him, and so she held his brother, testing that theory.

 

Finally, he acknowledged her. Sesshoumaru hugged her back.

 

x x x