InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Temporal Sequence ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

Temporal Sequence

 

Chapter 13:

 

He felt ridiculous. In all actuality, he felt like a moronic imbecile trailing after his master like an affection-starved puppy.

 

But she has no weapon, he reminded himself.

 

Kagome left shortly after rising, not even bothering to bathe, as was her morning ritual, saying she was returning home for a short while to procure the agreed upon books she promised him. She had warned him not to follow, promptly reminding him of their agreement—he was not supposed to know the medium by which she defied time.

 

And here he was, silently weaving in between trees, a far distance behind her, but close enough to smell and hear her. He had every intention of following her wishes and he did in fact plan on following through with the main objective of that wish, though he was tailing her. He would simply continue tracking her footsteps until her scent disappeared. So in essence, he would be living up to his side of the bargain by not actually looking when she traversed time and space.

 

That fact still didn't shake the feeling of absurdity as he measured his steps, ensuring a proper distance, though he knew she couldn't even smell him no less sense him. Why was he doing this again? Oh yes, he had realized it this morning.

 

She was unarmed. But she had been unarmed the entire time since he had awoken. Why care now?

 

Because they were being watched, he could feel it, again.

 

He had felt this before, on more than one occasion, so why concern himself with it now? He really couldn't answer that question since he had felt the eyes of another while Kagome was home taking tests. Perhaps this uninvited visitor was watching him.

 

Either way, he didn't know. All he knew was that it was not safe and most definitely not prudent for the girl to roam around without a weapon of any sort. Could she even wield a weapon? She must be able to, for she had said so herself when he instructed her to procure a weapon before she returned so she may protect herself. He was beginning to wonder how well she handled her weapon, whatever it may be, since he hadn't asked and she hadn't offered to name it. He just couldn't imagine her wielding a sword with any proficiency and her sad lack of sensory abilities and overall pacific nature made her appear less than capable of defending herself.

 

So he had followed her and he felt pathetic for it.

 

She didn't even know he was there, lurking in the brush a few long meters behind her as she hummed softly to herself, arm swinging at her hip, in tune with her strides. He smirked to himself when he thought about how easily he could frighten her. It would be a thrill to playfully stalk her and then grab her suddenly from behind, all the while maintaining anonymity. She would be scared out of her wits and then furious when he revealed himself. Then again, she probably wouldn't see the humor in it.

 

A yelp pulled him from his inner musings as he prepared to lunge forward in attack. That was, until he realized that she simply stumbled over a rock. He smiled when her colorful words of frustration reached his ears and his smile only widened when she kicked the inconspicuous rock only to yelp again. Apparently, that rock had a firm stake in that particular plot of earth and was quite reluctant to forfeit it and her toes had paid the price.

 

She was such an amusing creature.

 

He watched from behind a branch full of leaves as she sat down and removed her shoe to inspect her pseudo-wound. The breeze picked up ever so slightly, bringing to him a delightful rush of her scent. He vaguely wondered if that scent was part of the reason he was following her now—like a subconscious desperation to keep it near him. He could openly admit to himself that he liked her scent, very much. It was like a calming force upon his body, competing for dominance with his more rigid state of being. He honestly couldn't describe it, but he found it pleasant. And he liked it when the atmosphere around him was pleasant. It seemed like a rare treat.

 

His sense of smell was perhaps his most dominant, he realized, as memories of Kazuma hunting him as he hid in a river sprang to mind. He remembered being so frightened as he ducked underneath the water, thinking his uncle would be furious if he were to be caught. Those first few weeks of being in his uncle's presence had quickly taught Sesshoumaru one thing—not living up to Kazuma's standards had painful consequences. Though it was in the name of training, it was still uncomfortable, he thought as he recalled Kazuma repeatedly submerging him in water saying he needed to expand his lung capacity. He hated water ever since.

 

After that unfortunate, yet effective lesson, he quickly learned how to mask his scent by the direction of the wind and by controlling his youki. The control of his youki took far longer and he hadn't mastered it for many, many years thereafter, but he had become competent enough in discretion to pass Kazuma's `stalking test', as he liked to call it. After conditioning, the next level of training was stealth. With both of those skills mastered, combat training could commence since it would prove he had sufficient control of his body. Though that fact changed once he commenced using his innate weapons. His youki whip was hell to control and his dokkasou was difficult to consciously call upon. He remembered waking up to the putrid scent of acid in the middle of the night only to discover he had subconsciously released it onto the floor during his sleep. There was no doubt to whom that room belonged. That training was anything but pleasant and Kazuma had told him to focus his acid onto his whip, which served as a point of concentration, thus enabling him to utilize his poison at his own whim. Eventually, he was able to use his dokkasou without his youki whip, which was a long time in the making.

 

His head jerked forward when he realized her scent was moving away. Before he could take another step, he knew she was gone.

 

He wanted to look into that clearing so damn bad.

 

But he didn't.

 

And he already missed her scent, its potency decreased as its remnants faded.

 

Again, the fact that he found her scent pleasing perplexed him. He recalled Hitomi's sweet and grounded scent that had excited him, causing his blood to rush through his veins. Her scent had been an oxymoron, like heaven and earth being one in the same. Oh, how Kazuma had hated her! Kazuma and the foreigner his father had brought home nearly killed each other over their conflicting views of the girl.

 

“How do you know of Athens?”

 

“She is the goddess, Aphrodite, in human form.”

 

“So you take what you wish from different religions?”

 

“Whether I stand before Allah, Judea, God or Buddha, none can smite me!”

 

“She tells you how to love life. Listen to her teachings.”

 

“She would rather curse the very ground you walk on than love you.”

 

Words of broken Japanese and tales of a desert god flowed into the ears of a conflicted youth. Kazuma sat beside him, a look of discontent etched into his face.

 

“Maurus,” he whispered to himself.

 

xxx

 

Kazuma handed him a flask as he took a seat on the cool grass, sweat running down his neck and a battered bokken resting at his hip. Just as the first droplet of water touched his lips, he caught whiff of his father's scent on the breeze. He jumped to his feet, Kazuma already looking toward the citadel and he ran toward his home, all thoughts centered on his father's once again late arrival. In his haze, he barely registered the unfamiliar scents accompanying his father.

 

He leapt over a wall and nearly crashed into a soldier as he skidded across the courtyard.

 

Then he saw them. His father was speaking to a strange looking man with a bright red cloak wrapped around his face and neck, its tail flowing down his back to end at his feet. The oddest part was that a woman seemed to be mediating between the two, almost as though she was speaking for them, but that was impossible, for he saw the men speaking as well. When he neared them, his father's eyes greeted him and he recognized the human woman as being a native of the mainland. Before he could even contemplate why his father had brought home another human female, he caught the man's words. He spoke formal Cantonese with a strange accent that nearly subdued the flowing syllables of the language.

 

He was foreign, very foreign.

 

“Sesshoumaru,” his father greeted.

 

Black eyes turned on him then.

 

“Father,” he said with a curt nod as he stopped in front of the small group.

 

“This is Fei-Lei,” his father said, pointing to the Cantonese woman. “She was a great asset to me during my last campaign in her homeland. Make sure she is granted the respect she is due.”

 

“Yes, father.”

 

“And this is Maurus,” his father said, gesturing to the red-cloaked man. “He comes from the distant land of Mauretania and is a close ally of Fei-Lei. Treat him well, for he shall be staying with us for quite a while.”

 

He took a good look at the foreigner, now realizing how very black his eyes were. A few sparse strands of black hair curled up from underneath his makeshift headdress and his skin was a deep copper.

 

That was the first time he had seen Maurus.

 

A few moons later, his father ventured back to the mainland with the translator, Fei-Lei, and the dark-skinned foreigner had remained, though Sesshoumaru had hardly seen him throughout the past months. He did know, however, that the foreigner named Maurus laughed a lot and liked to drink with his father. They would go out in the afternoon and not return until the early hours before dawn. He had asked his father about Maurus and all his father would tell him was that the foreigner was old, very old, and found traveling a good investment of his time. Apparently, the traveler was well versed in many languages and cultures and wished to add Japanese to his repertoire.

 

He stumbled upon the foreigner that very morning.

 

It was rather late in the morning, at least to Sesshoumaru, who was forcibly accustomed to Kazuma's early starts, when he ventured into the gardens to meditate after a rather arduous training session. Maurus was leaning against a tree; his head slacked upright against the trunk.

 

“Sessh-maru,” he said brightly in greeting. Maurus could never pronounce his name correctly. Certain syllables seemed to be physically impossible for the man to annunciate, or he was just too lazy to try to speak proper Japanese.

 

He nodded at the man, intending to bypass him without another word, but Maurus would not have it so.

 

“Sit with me.”

 

“Why?” he asked after a brief pause.

 

“We don't speak.”

 

“We're speaking now, are we not?” he asked sarcastically. All he wanted was some damn peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask?

 

“You so boring!” He laughed, full and hearty, the sound almost warming in its richness.

 

But that fact alone didn't ebb his insult.

 

“And you so stupid,” he snapped, mocking the man's less-than-perfect Japanese.

 

“Anda-tt tmazight di ttawilat n teghwalt?” he said sternly in a coarse, but wondrously flowing language.

 

Sesshoumaru just stared at him.

 

“Pourquoi êtes-vous si froid et condescendant?”

 

He narrowed his eyes at the foreigner.

 

“¿Por qué eres tan frío y condescending?”

 

He glared, hard and cold, at the defiant man.

 

“ΓιατÎ&# 175; είστε τόσο κÏÏοι και?”

 

The insult was growing by the second. Why had his father demanded the best treatment of this vile vermin? However, it wasn't like his father would know if he did something to this disrespectful creature.

 

“Or would you have me ask in the language of my namesake? Perchè siete così freddi e condescending?”

 

“What are you saying?” he demanded quietly through clenched teeth.

 

“Let us talk,” he said casually as he patted the ground next to him. He even scooted over a bit to suggest that Sesshoumaru sit on that particular plot of grass, mere inches from his person.

 

He sat down across from him.

 

“Maurus is not my given name. My father called me Almohad. My people called my land Tamurt Nnegh. Later they would call it Al Maghrib. The Romans called it Maurtania and they called me Maurus. My skin is dark they say and they call me Maurus. I keep it since.”

 

“Where are these places?” he asked, trying not to sound interested, though he was.

 

“Al Maghrib is in north Africana. It is far away. The Romans, they were powerful. So powerful they spread and take my homeland. From Rome they came in the heart of Europa. Beautiful their land it is.”

 

“You carry the name given to you by those who conquered your homeland? That's ridiculous.”

 

Maurus laughed, short and loud. “You see them, you know. They were human, but like plague they take and destroy. I was in love!” He laughed again.

 

“I don't understand. Your given name is far more valuable than the name given to you by a people you found yourself infatuated with.”

 

“You are young, no understanding. They were majestic and strong. They build such marvels!”

 

“If they were so great, why are you here?”

 

“They fall. They grew too much too fast and they fall. The people find rule.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“The Greeks call it democracy. The people rule and people are fools.”

 

“Who are the Greeks?”

 

“Curious you be. I tell you when I speak a better. Japanese…it difficult, even for me.”

 

Even though he didn't interact with the foreigner, it was no secret that he liked to talk.

 

“In other words, you don't feel like talking about it.” Maurus smiled wide. “I still don't understand why you're here.”

 

“To learn Japanese and your ways. I am old. I have more years than your father. Life is boring and I find interest where I can. It has brought me here from the west. I go back one day.”

 

“To see how it has changed?”

 

“More or less. Mainly, I go back to make my homage.”

 

“Your homage?”

 

“Allah calls me home.”

 

“Allah?”

 

“The God of the Desert.”

 

“That is your god?”

 

“My people's God.”

 

“Then you do not worship this god?”

 

“Eh, yes and no.”

 

“What do you mean?” This man was exasperating—like a walking contradiction. Apparently decisiveness was not in Maurus' vocabulary.

 

He turned his hand and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a six-pointed star set in ink into the skin of his wrist. “The God of Judea gives me wisdom to do what is right, for he reminds me what happens to fools.” He released his sleeve and pulled an uneven cross from beneath his cloak. “The God of Rome gives me thanks, for he reminds me what it is to suffer.” He pointed west and sighed softly. “The God of the Desert gives me courage, for he reminds me what awaits the dutiful.” He turned black eyes to Sesshoumaru, a tiny smirk tugging at full lips. “Now I wish to learn of Buddha for he promises peace to those who open their hearts. I long for peace.”

 

“So you take what you wish from different religions? That seems rather counterproductive.”

 

“No,” he said, his smirk growing to a full-blown smile. “This way, when the earth dies or I, which ever comes first, I be okay. Whether I stand before Allah, Judea, God or Buddha, none can smite me!”

 

Sesshoumaru couldn't help but roll his eyes.

 

“You make absolutely no sense.”

 

“Why are you so cold and condescending?”

 

“What?”

 

“That is what I ask you before. I can ask you in Canton if you like.”

 

“That is not necessary.”

 

“You answer my question?”

 

“No.”

 

“You very different from your father.”

 

He stood and walked away then, only seeing the foreigner sparsely over the next several months.

 

Then Hitomi turned her back on him because of his youkai blood, though it was more symbolic in nature than concrete actuality. He knew her body still longed for him even if she tried to deny it. Nevertheless, he was upset and confused at first, but when he rose the next morning, that uncertainty morphed into fury. He sat down silently at the table across from Maurus, not surprised like he should have been that the desert youkai actually made it to breakfast.

 

“What troubles you?” Maurus asked quietly, teacup in hand.

 

He ignored him, his eyes boring holes into his own empty cup as he willed it to break under his intense gaze. He really wanted to destroy something.

 

Kazuma entered the room, pausing briefly as he silently inspected the room's occupants, then took a seat at the head of the table. Maurus nodded to Kazuma and the inuyoukai ignored him as well, opting for the pot of tea at the center of the table.

 

“You arrived home earlier than expected last night,” Kazuma said, his eyes on Sesshoumaru.

 

“I was tired.”

 

“Really?” Kazuma asked sarcastically. “I think I would have believed you had you actually smelled of sex.” His uncle wore a devious smirk on his face and Sesshoumaru wanted to smack it clean off.

 

Maurus' eyes lit up then.

 

“Need help in the art of wooing?” Maurus asked, a naughty tone to his voice.

 

“Look at the boy,” Kazuma said rigidly, turning his attention to Maurus. “He could be a blundering fool and women would still fall at his feet.”

 

“I was just offering assistance,” Maurus asserted roughly, obviously in no mood to tolerate Kazuma. “The girl is human and I doubt you could help him.”

 

Sesshoumaru turned a shocked expression to Maurus then, wondering how in the hell he knew of Hitomi. Maurus laughed at the look he was given and decided to elaborate.

 

“I heard Kazuma here warning you of the evils of human women. I was curious to see who little Sessh-maru had taken interest in, so I followed you to the village.”

 

“And you didn't detect his presence?” Kazuma asked accusingly, making Sesshoumaru inwardly cringe. “He smells of cheap sake and spoiled fish. How could you not catch his scent?”

 

“Just because I prefer my fish cooked does not mean it's spoiled,” Maurus said calmly. “And if the sake I drink is cheap, then the tenants of this home are to blame.”

 

Kazuma looked disinterested as usual. “Perhaps it is simply your natural scent then.”

 

Sesshoumaru repressed a laugh. Kazuma and Maurus did not care for one another, but were forced to deal with each other civilly nonetheless because of his father. But that didn't mean they couldn't throw insults at each other from time to time.

 

“Well, I saw her and I must say I was nicely surprised by little Sessh-maru's choice.”

 

Why couldn't he just say Sesshoumaru? He could speak the language fluently now, so there was no excuse. When asked, Maurus simply replied that he would call him `Sessh-maru' because it was what he first called him and thus it held sentimental value. It was absurd and especially demeaning since he frequently added the word `little' before it as though it was a disgusting prefix to his name.

 

“It's Sess-hou-maru,” he asserted.

 

“Whatever,” Maurus said, waving him off like a child. “Maybe if you'd take a look at her Kazi-mu then you'd change your mind.”

 

“If you cannot pronounce my name correctly, then do not say it at all.”

 

“She is the goddess, Aphrodite, in human form,” Maurus said in a delighted voice as he brushed off Kazuma's words without a second thought.

 

“That girl is worthy of nothing but insult.”

 

“Since when did Allah die and name you his successor?”

 

“Do not include me in the same sentence as your ridiculous and vile god.”

 

“How the great Inu no Taishou allows such a disrespectful man to run his home in his absence is beyond me.”

 

“Perhaps you'd understand if you did not spend your existence in a state of drunkenness.”

 

“At least I know how to enjoy life.”

 

“Hn, if that's what you call it. At least you were tolerable when you couldn't communicate.”

 

“Jealous at how quickly I mastered your language?”

 

“Hardly.”

 

It was amusing at first, listening to them bicker, but now it was just plain ridiculous—especially since the topic of conversation was him, even though they were digressing to insult one another.

 

“She turned her back on me because of my youkai blood,” he said quietly, not at all surprised when two sets of eyes focused on him.

 

“You need to make her understand,” Maurus began with his usual up-beat attitude. “She will; you are too tempting for her not to. You are beautiful and powerful—two things no woman can resist!”

 

“You are a fool,” Kazuma stated with severity, though Sesshoumaru wasn't sure if he was talking about Maurus or him. “She is unworthy of his mere attention, least of all his affection.”

 

“I don't expect you to understand the beauty of a human woman's touch,” Maurus said to Kazuma, his black eyes slowly drifting to Sesshoumaru. “Love is a beautiful thing. She tells you how to love life. Listen to her teachings.” Was that why his father seemed to enjoy the company of human females?

 

“Love?” Kazuma spat. “He is in lust, not love. Perhaps it is time to introduce him to the carnal pleasures of the world. That way, his ignorance will not cause him to stoop so low as to crave the touch of a worthless human female.”

 

“Listen to yourself!” Maurus nearly yelled, much to the disdain of both Sesshoumaru and Kazuma. “His first experiences with these things should not be tainted as such. What would his father think?”

 

“I don't know what his father would think,” Kazuma began, malice hanging on every word, “since the Inu no Taishou takes little interest in his son's upbringing. His sentiments be damned. I will gladly rid you of this world and face his wrath than have you pollute Sess-hou-maru's mind with your folly.”

 

“It's not your decision anyhow and I'm sure that fact alone pisses you off to no end. Why don't you ask the boy?” Maurus turned his attention back to Sesshoumaru. “Do you love her, Sessh-maru?”

 

Did he? He knew he wanted her so badly that his stomach flipped and his blood sang when he caught scent of her. His fingers itched to touch her pale skin and he…he wanted…

 

“I don't know,” he replied flatly.

 

“Sesshoumaru,” Kazuma said fiercely, bringing Sesshoumaru's eyes to his. “She would rather curse the very ground you walk on than love you.”

 

He wanted to strike him then, but he knew better. His uncle's tongue may be sharp, but it also had impeccable aim. Did she love him? He was suddenly so angry and so confused and…and… He stood and walked away.

 

Maurus ran after him.

 

“Sessh-maru!” he yelled.

 

He didn't respond, only continued walking away from his problems, like he always did.

 

“Anda-tt tmazight di ttawilat n teghwalt?”

 

Sesshoumaru stopped, not daring to look at him as he asked that familiar question in his native tongue for the second time over the course of a year.

 

“I know the answer now.”

 

He turned his head to the side and tilted it downward in the attempt to stop himself from looking at the youkai behind him. He would not grant this foreigner the respect given with direct eye contact and full attention. He was so angry right now and he couldn't disrespect his uncle and so Maurus was the logical and convenient choice.

 

“Because you take after your uncle.”

 

With an abrupt intake of air, he shot Maurus a nasty glare and turned quickly to continue his departure, all the while wondering if he had anything of his father's besides his dokkasou, golden eyes and silver hair.

 

He would find with time that there were in fact only four things he possessed that originated with his father. The fourth being a life-giving sword that had no use to him, for a human woman's touch he would never know.

 

xxx

 

 

He possessed a love-hate relationship with Maurus. There were times he found himself enjoying Maurus' company and other times he loathed the desert demon's very existence. He enjoyed listening to Maurus' tales of lands beyond his comprehension and discovered that for some odd reason he liked the sound of Maurus' voice, with its heavy accent and flighty annunciation. He found Maurus' whimsical nature rather foolish, but then again, Maurus was older than his father, and thus the demon couldn't be all that stupid to have survived so long—fate didn't allow such consistent luck. He would later learn that Maurus' carefree and non-committal attitude granted Maurus with a fulfilling and satisfactory life full of varied experiences. Sesshoumaru was jealous of the freedom Maurus exercised over his own life, and Maurus tended to rub Kazuma the wrong way, making Sesshoumaru's life all the more unbearable for it.

 

But Maurus made him realize he was more like his uncle than his father. Maurus craved new experiences, thus compelling him to travel all over the world in order to sate his appetites. He was a fan of progress and integrating various components of foreign cultures and religions into his own, which led to one undeniable conclusion in Sesshoumaru's life—tradition equaled stability. Stability in turn ensured responsibility, of which Maurus had none.

 

That was when he vowed never to change his name. If he lived long and was forced to move to other lands, he would never leave his name behind. It was his and his uncle had given it to him.

 

And he cherished everything his uncle had given him.

 

The more he thought on it, the more he realized that perhaps his experiences with Maurus made him as curious as he was of Kagome's era. He may not live to see the changes before him and so he was interested to know what would come of his homeland. However, he also realized he liked to listen to her talk. Her speech patterns were different, even if only slightly, but her adjoining words and phrases were worlds apart from what he was accustomed to, making him rather content to simply listen to her as she babbled on about things he couldn't possibly imagine.

 

She was like Maurus in that she was free to decide her own fate, unlike himself, a being bred for power so that he may rule what his father left behind. Freedom was not his to have and that further fueled his quest for power, because with more power came more freedom. But if Kazuma had taught him anything at all, it was that with greater power came greater responsibility and thus an honorable being craving freedom must learn to balance those conflicting ideals. Responsibility limited one's freedom after all.

 

Kagome just didn't know that yet. Or maybe she did and balance had eluded her. One of the two had to be true or else she wouldn't have spoken of liberty as she had last night.

 

He grew up with a rather convincing example of that particular crisis. His father held great power and subsequent responsibility, hence he was kept away on a nearly regular basis as he defended his lands and thwarted malicious invasions in nearby regions. His father was a creature who had longed for self-determination and he had never found a way to balance the conflicting desires of his life. That was why his son never seemed to be much of a priority.

 

Flighty dispositions and cravings for varied life experiences had brought his father and Maurus together, both sharing a commonality for personal freedom, though honor had kept his father from achieving that standard to its fullest, unlike Maurus.

 

But unlike Maurus and much like his father, Kagome had a strong sense of duty and responsibility, honor holding a place of high value within her life. The Japanese have always placed importance on honor and they are a people of customary tradition, which apparently holds true five-hundred years in the future even in the face of prioritized progress. Unless of course, Kagome was simply an anomaly while the people of her epoch brushed off responsibility in favor of more freedom and less honor.

 

Nevertheless, she retained such noble qualities despite her temporal position and immense worldly knowledge. He found that these facts equipped him with a rather great deal of respect for the young human woman, especially since the only other person he had known with such cultural know-how was nothing like her.

 

The combination of this knowledge with the fact that her scent was one of the most pleasing he had ever smelt made for one multi-faceted, but nonetheless frightening conclusion.

 

He was beginning to like her.

 

x x x

 

Kagome pulled herself out of the well and hoisted her backpack over her shoulder as she walked to the dark well house entrance. She felt a little sluggish this morning, probably because she woke up much later than she usually did. She wasn't fazed by the fact she had slept-in, but she was a bit flustered over the circumstances that had prompted her to stay up and inevitably wake up at a later hour than usual.

 

She wanted to listen to Sesshoumaru talk.

 

His voice was rich and smooth, syllables flowing from his mouth like a silken chocolate delicacy. The usual subdued volume and overall calm nature of his voice combined with the unique inflections of his tones, was soothing to her ears and the depth of his baritone was nothing short of entrancing.

 

She was beginning to think she could listen to him talk all day.

 

And that was a bad thing, she presumed.

 

She sighed, long and hard, as she recalled the twitch of his jaw as he prepared to comment on her remarks. The muscle was taut and his lips tight as he thought about her words and it twitched ever so slightly as though he was grinding his teeth while he formulated a response in his mind. She could see the muscle roll over as he opened his mouth. It was unique and eye-catching—a personal idiosyncrasy that belonged solely to Sesshoumaru.

 

She never would have thought that a mouth could be so alluring.

 

She shook her head rather violently as she stepped through the patio door. Before she could yell her greetings as she normally did when arriving home, she was rendered silent by her mother's laughter.

 

Curiously, she tiptoed to the kitchen and listened as her grandfather mumbled something, her mother's merry laughter overwhelming his raspy voice. A loud pop erupted and she stepped in the kitchen to see what in the hell was going on.

 

“Kagome!” her mother sang in merriment, a half-empty glass of champagne in her hand.

 

Her mother was drinking in the middle of the day. She started to worry when a particular lecture on alcoholism came to mind. Had the family money troubles finally taken their toll on her mother's mental health?

 

“Here, honey, have a glass! You're plenty old enough now.” Her mother proceeded to pull another stemmed glass from the cupboard. “I was saving this for when you got your semester grades back. You've been working so hard that I just knew it was going to be a day of celebration!”

 

“Mom, what's going on?”

 

“I'll go get it!” her grandfather offered, his tone similar to that of her mother.

 

Her mother handed her the bubbly liquid, a wide smile spread across her face.

 

“Remember that foundation that was created a few years back?”

 

Her mother's hope from that time was too easy to recall. “Yeah. A representative was here a few months back, right? To see if the shrine qualified?”

 

“Yep,” her mother said, trying to control her grin. “We qualified! They sent us a check for 1.8 million yen!”

 

“A-are you serious?” Kagome nearly stuttered, her hands trembling with excitement.

 

“Here it is!” her grandfather yelled as he shuffled into the kitchen, a crisp cream-colored check in between his fingers.

 

“That'll,” she began, pausing to sip the sweet liquor, “that'll pay off grandpa's medical bills and get us out of debt!” she exclaimed happily.

 

“Actually,” her mother said after taking a long swig of the carbonated wine. “I was thinking that it would pay for two semesters at Tokyo U.”

 

She nearly dropped her glass.

 

Her mother was the only person on the planet that did things so selflessly for her. No one else had ever been so thoughtful of her, sacrificing their own comfort for the sake of her desires. It was so sweet, but it was her mother. Mothers didn't always think coherently when it came to their children.

 

That meant that Kagome would have to do it for her.

 

“No,” she said softly, her previous joy dulled with the possibility of regret. “Pay off our debt. Tokyo U can wait.”

 

“Kagome,” her mother said sternly, placing her glass on the counter. “I want to do this for you.” Her mother grasped her hands, pressing her fingers firmly against her own in a display of affection and reassurance. It wasn't working. “You deserve this and I can give it to you now.”

 

“I can always get a job after community college and save up if it's still important to me to go.” She offered a watery smile; obviously lacking in luster as evidenced by her mother's deepening frown. “You're forgetting about that scholarship that has my name written all over it. It'll pay for everything, remember?”

 

She tried to sound convincing, really she did. She knew she didn't have a cool day's shot in hell, but she'd write that essay and send it out, if only to make her mother feel better. Even if she never saw Tokyo U, at least she'd be able to sleep knowing she made the right decision for her family. Her mother was already paying her current tuition, though cheap in comparison to the four-year university; it still put a huge strain on the family bank account. Her mother had taken out a pretty substantial loan to pay for it. Two million yen was enough to pay off that loan and grandpa's mounting medical bills and so Kagome would make sure that 1.8 million went where it was needed.

 

She would do it on her own, or not at all—like most things in her life.

 

“Oh, Kagome,” her mother said, sorrow lacing her voice. In other words, `let me help you.'

 

“Thank you, mama, really. But I can do it on my own. I promise.” `If I can't do it on my own, then it wasn't meant to be. There's only so much I can take from you, mama.'

 

Her mother smiled as though she could read Kagome's thoughts—the true meaning behind her words. “Alright, honey. I understand. We'll figure it out eventually, okay?” She nodded in response, not trusting her voice at the moment. “We ordered out to celebrate. Do want to come with me to pick it up?”

 

She nodded in the affirmative, a wry thought taking hold.

 

“Maybe I should drive.”

 

x x x

 

Her family ate a late lunch, which felt more like supper, so that Kagome could eat with them and still make it back to the Feudal Era before dusk. They were so understanding of her situation, though her mother found something humorous about her current predicament. But she had a wonderful time with her family nonetheless. Everyone was so jovial and it was a nice change to see her mother without worry veining from the corners of her eyes. It felt more carefree than ever, reassuring her that she had indeed made the right decision. But by the gods she was tired of wanting and choosing to sacrifice.

 

Maybe she really did want too much, but right now, she wanted someone out there to care about her like her mother did.

 

Well, that wasn't necessarily true. Shippou loved her like a sister. Miroku and Sango loved her like a friend and Inuyasha, he loved her like…like… Well, she wasn't sure how he loved her, but he did. If she was a gambling woman she'd wager that he loved her like a best friend loves his platonic counterpart.

 

A strange thought crossed her mind then as she entered the well house, one in which she couldn't explain. She suddenly wondered what Sesshoumaru thought of her.

 

It shouldn't matter to her as long as he didn't kill her, but somehow the importance of his perception managed to slither into her psyche like a venomous viper, threatening to strike with its profound significance. His thoughts were just that—deep and encompassing—and she had to admit that it would be a rare honor if he were to think well of her.

 

She shook her head as she rearranged her heavy backpack on her shoulder, silently hoping he liked her offerings. She was becoming too acutely aware of a subtle desire within herself to please him and that fact, combined with her previous hope that he carried a favorable view of her, made her a bit uneasy. He probably felt indifferently about her and would probably find the books sufficient and nothing more. Either way, she really shouldn't care.

 

But that didn't stop her from caring.

 

Nor did it halt her wishful thinking.

 

Oh, gods, she was a mess!

 

Without another thought, she leapt into the well, allowing the soft blue light to engulf her as she succumbed to its timeless embrace, not wishing to think of such things beyond her control. She would leave it to Fate, though that decision, too, was not hers to make. The Fates obviously derived some sort of sadistic pleasure out of her chaotic life, so she was basically throwing all to the wind and letting them bring it as they pleased. They would mess with her regardless.

 

She was beginning to wish they had never brought her to Sesshoumaru. She was blessed with a rare insight into the aloof demon's life, yes, but there were other, less obvious, consequences.

 

Like the fact that his gaze alone made her skin tingle. His voice haunted her mind and made her crave his attention, if only to hear him speak. After noticing how his jaw tightened and relaxed before speaking, her damn eyes were always glued to his damn face!

 

She was sensing the upcoming onslaught of confusion and did her best to push it from her mind. The black haze cleared as dimming blue skies greeted her, dusk nearing its daily birth. She took a long, shaky breath as she refocused her mind from its previous musings. She decided to blame it on his looks. A handsome man could turn a level-headed girl like herself into a sputtering fool. Kagome vowed not to let that happen. He was still the cold-hearted assassin, Sesshoumaru.

 

Too bad she wasn't more persuasive, even to herself.

 

She really needed to go on a date or something when this was all said and done. Those devious little hormones were now playing tricks on her mind and that could not be good.

 

She pulled herself toward the open sky, the vines reluctantly supporting her weight as they creaked in protest. She was almost at the top when a clawed hand appeared before her eyes, offering silent assistance. She was about to yell at him in hurt and anger since he disrespected her wishes, until she noticed something.

 

There were no stripes on his wrist.

 

Her eyes traced his claws up his arm until a bright red haori became painfully visible.

 

“Take my hand,” he said softly. “I'll help you.”

 

Her hand clasped gently onto his of its own accord as she stared at him, mouth agape in shock or happiness, she wasn't sure which. Maybe it was both, but in that moment, she gave freely to him and he returned the gesture, as he brought her feet to the grass in one fluid pull.

 

“Inuyasha,” she said, her voice but a faint whisper on the breeze—lost within the warmth of summer and the death of day.

 

x x x