InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Sweetest Escape ❯ Nasal Impact ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

Bear with me. This is an extra long chapter. So, faithful readers, don't get bored and leave, okay? Please!

 

Okay, that's it.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3: Nasal Impact

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, the meeting went well…I mean, it didn't end in complete and total anarchy, and that's pretty much as good as it's gonna get with that bunch….no, I was not a controlling dictator—and hey! Even if I was, the project was my idea; I have a right to be in control!” Kagome emphasized into her cell phone as she wrestled with the zipper on her purse. “Yuki, contrary to what you like to believe, I am a competent individual. And I don't appreciate you insinuating that—stupid zipper!” she growled, frustrated, giving the stubborn fastener a sharp tug. That finally dislodged it from whatever it was stuck on, but unfortunately sent all of her personal belongings flying down the sidewalk. She continued to prattle on as she chased down her rolling tubes of lip gloss, hairbrush and comb.

 

 

 

 

“I am not a spazz!” she exclaimed. “My zipper was stuck! The zipper on my purse, Yuki, not my pants…” she said dryly, inserting her sought-for keys into the door of her car. “I mean, honestly do you think I'd be talking to you in the bathroom stall? That's really gross, Yuki…” Kagome tossed her school bag and camera bag into the passenger seat along with her purse and slid into the car herself. “And you say I'm the ditz? Yeah, right…”

 

 

 

 

Kagome held her phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear as she started the car, thankful for the whoosh of heat that immediately blasted through the vents. “Yuki! That's disgusting! Why are you telling me that?” she squealed with a giggle. Putting the vehicle into `drive', she pressed accelerator, clicking her tongue in dismay when the car didn't budge. She tried again. Again, the car wouldn't move. “Try to have a little discretion—just because I've known you since you were two does not mean I need the intimate little details of your life— Crap!” she exclaimed. “My car's stuck, that's what's wrong! Stupid snow drift…” she muttered. Glancing briefly out of the windshield and happy with the fact that there were no cars, or cops for that matter, in the vicinity, Kagome near-floored the accelerator pedal in a last-ditch effort to get the car to move.

 

 

 

 

A sudden movement in her rearview mirror made her jump and immediately let off of the gas. She squinted into the mirror, trying to make out what it was. She cut the engine, and hopped out of the car. “I don't know, I just saw something in my rearvie—“ Kagome froze.

 

 

 

 

Right behind her car stood a boy. Drenched from head to toe in slush, apparently from her vehicle. He spit a spray of mist out in from of him, and Kagome grimaced.

 

 

 

 

“Uh-oh…Yuki, I think I'm going to have to call you back…” she murmured. She snapped the phone closed and stuffed it in the pocket of her coat before the girl could say anything else. “H-hey…oh, wow…I'm, um, I didn't even see you there! Kami, I'm so sorry!” She edged closer to the boy, who still hadn't moved. Glancing down, she saw the splayed stack of books lying haphazardly in the slush occupying the dip by the curb.

 

 

 

 

She stepped around his immobile form and gingerly picked up the top book by the corner of the back cover between her thumb and pointer finger, and then held it out to him as if she were holding a dirty diaper.

 

 

 

 

“Here,” she said softly. The boy finally tore his gaze from its place on the concrete to look at her as if she were the antichrist. She flinched under that leer. He slowly, deliberately took the book from her fingers and proceeded to kneel and begin picking up the rest of the absolutely sopping stack, making himself even wetter in the process.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, let me help you,” she offered. She crouched on the curb, attempted to pick up another book with extended arms and flighty hands… and ended up dropping it back into the slop, and inadvertently splashing the boy in the face again in her desire to touch as little of the filthy book as possible. He recoiled and spluttered, spitting to the side. Kagome clapped her hands over her mouth.

 

 

 

“I'm sorry! Kami, I'm sorry!” she exclaimed in a rush. He merely glared at her, his jaw set. “Oh, man, that was a total accident! Let me get that—“

 

 

 

“Leave it,” he bit out through clenched teeth, pushing her hands away. Kagome pushed back.

 

 

 

“No, I've got to help you, since I got you all wet—“

 

 

 

“I said leave it,” he ground out, by now thoroughly irritated. Kagome held up both her hands and backed away, standing.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she repeated her apology for the umpteenth time. He scooped up the remaining books and began to walk away at a brisk pace before she could even react. “Hey, wait!” she called. She jogged the few steps he'd already crossed and cut him off, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt. He stumbled to a stop, staring at her incredulously.

 

 

 

“Um…look, I…I feel really bad about what just happened, and…well…my house is only a little ways from here. I mean, I could get you a clean t-shirt and I could toss your jacket in the wash—“

 

 

 

 

“No,” he said flatly. He stepped around her, but she refused to relinquish her hold on his jacket.

 

 

 

 

“But you're absolutely soaked. You're gonna get sick out here in those wet clothes. At least let me take you home,” she implored. He sighed heavily as he thought about it.

 

 

 

 

“Fine,” he relented. She smiled. He gave her a weird look and looked pointedly at her hand, still quite securely fisted in the material of his jacket. With a little self-conscious chuckle, she quickly loosed him.

 

 

 

 

“Oops. Sorry.” She walked back to her car and popped the trunk. “I think I've got some towels in here somewhere…My mom is always stocking the car with all kinds of stuff…first-aid kits, flashlights, stuff like that. She's always saying `You never know when you'll have an emergency on your hands,' or `Nobody means to get into an accident—that's why they call it an accident! So you need to be prepared',” Kagome babbled as she shuffled through the contents of the small space. A quick glance at the boy told her that he probably didn't care too much about her mother's little axioms of wisdom. “You can put your bag and books in the back…um…on the floor, `cause they're kind of dirty…” she instructed from around the back.

 

 

 

 

 

“Here we go!” she exclaimed, pulling out two pink, rumpled towels. She spread these over the expanse of the passenger seat, and swept her arm out graciously towards the car. “Your chariot awaits,” she said dramatically. The boy gave her another weird look as he clambered into the vehicle, and she quickly straightened her posture. `Okay, Yuki was right. Kagome, now is not the time to act like a spazz!' she admonished herself.

 

 

 

 

She hadn't been expecting him to be absolutely comfortable sitting in her car, as he was quite tall, and, well…her baby was only a VW Bug. But she hadn't expected him to be squashed in like a sardine. He grunted uncomfortably at the small space. Kagome had to bite her lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to rise. His shins were getting quite intimately acquainted with her glovebox, and his knees were only a hand's length away from his nose.

 

 

 

 

She rushed around the front of the car to slide back into the driver's seat and start the car. This time, the car moved easily forward with no problems.

 

 

 

 

“Guess all that slush was all that was in the way,” she said lightly.

 

 

 

 

“No shit,” he said dryly. Kagome frowned at him.

 

 

 

 

“You don't have to be so grumpy,” she pouted.

 

 

 

 

“Well, seeing as how you just sprayed me with toxic snow, and it's about thirty degrees outside, and I'm freezing my ass off, I'd say I have a right to be fucking grumpy,” he spat venomously.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, okay…sorry,” she apologized meekly. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. Finally he sighed and swiped the sleeve of his jacket over his face tiredly.

 

 

 

 

“Sorry… `s just been a shitty day,” he grumbled. He leaned his forearms against his knees and held his hands, still cocooned in his sleeves, in front of the vents from which warm air blew forcefully.

 

 

 

 

“Um…you might wanna put your seatbelt on—“

 

 

 

 

“I'm wedged in here, practically sniffing my knees. I'm not going anywhere,” he snapped.

 

 

 

“Alright, suit yourself…Hey, how stupid of me! I didn't even introduce myself!” she exclaimed suddenly, brightening. “I'm Kagome. Higurashi.” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You look kind of familiar…what's your name?”

 

 

 

 

“Inuyasha,” he said briefly. She snapped her fingers and pointed at him enthusiastically.

 

 

 

 

“That's it! Inuyasha! You…you're in my class, aren't you? My seventh hour—Biology, with Ms. Sakagami, right?”

 

 

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

“I knew I recognized you!” she smiled. “So? You transferred?”

 

 

 

 

“Something like that.”

 

 

 

 

“Okay…So how do you like Daisuke High so far?”

 

 

 

 

He shrugged one shoulder noncommittally.

 

 

 

 

“Wow, you love it that much, huh?” she said sarcastically with a smile, in an attempt to get him to at least crack a tiny smile. Or at least respond. “Hm…man of few words, eh?” Once again, he was silent as the tomb, with only a small lifting of his left shoulder to indicate that he'd even heard her.

 

 

 

 

“You know, you're gonna have to speak to me eventually, if I'm gonna give you a ride home. I don't read minds, and you can't exactly grunt directions,” she pointed out as she inched the tiny car onto the main road.

 

 

 

 

 

“Expressway going to exit 174,” he mumbled.

 

 

 

 

“All the way down there? Jeez, how far do you live?” she exclaimed. She got no response. She sighed. “Well…anyway… Daisuke isn't that bad. It's actually a pretty cool place once you get to know some people…” He snorted derisively, in what Kagome could only deduce was disbelief or skepticism. “Hey! Maybe I could introduce you to some people! Tomorrow? Yeah, you could meet my friend Eri—she's in our Biology class too—anyway, she's nice, and I'm sure I could introduce you to some guys at lunch—what hour do you have lunch anyway? I've got fifth—But I know a couple of guys you might get along with, so you're not just hanging around with a bunch of girls. I bet you'd hate that! What do you say?”

 

 

 

 

 

Inuyasha stared at Kagome as if she were absolutely deranged and in dire need of medication. He shook his head and turned away from her, opting to stare out of the window instead. Kagome stared right back, absolutely flummoxed.

 

 

 

 

“Well, the whole `conversation' thing is supposed to go both ways, but, hey, whatever…” she mumbled. Kagome knew she was a talker, and while she could probably carry a conversation by herself, she hated the thought of the strange, silent boy next to her thinking her an absolute imbecile. So, she shut her trap and turned the radio on, settling on a popular station playing a catchy little song. She hummed softly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Inuyasha staring at the radio as if he'd never seen one before.

 

 

 

 

“What, you don't like this song? You can change it if you want,” she told him. He shook his head slightly and turned back to the window.

 

 

 

 

“Is that time right?” he asked out of the blue. Kagome was so surprised he'd spoken of his own accord that she stared at him.

 

 

 

 

“Um, yeah, it's right…well, it's actually about three minutes slow, but—“

 

 

 

 

“Do you think you could step on it?” he pressed.

 

 

 

 

“What, you mean go faster?”

 

 

 

 

“Yes, that's what `step on it' means,” he said impatiently. Kagome hesitated.

 

 

 

 

“But I'm already going the speed limit, and I don't want to get a tic—WHOA! Idiot!” she screeched as a large white pickup suddenly darted in front of her, it's bed only a breath away from the front of her own car. She instinctively slammed on the brakes. And in that same instant, Inuyasha's upper body jerked forward, bringing his nose to collide quite soundly with his knees.

 

 

 

 

 

“Holy FUCK!” he roared, recoiling, his hands immediately flying up to clap over the offended body part. Kagome stared in faint horror as blood started to run from between his fingers.

 

 

 

 

“Oh, Kami, you're bleeding,” she murmured, glancing back and forth between the macabre sight next to her and the road.

 

 

 

 

“Ya think?” he snapped.

 

 

 

 

“Just—um….there's tissues in the glove box right there…” she said softly, wincing as he contorted his body to get at the glove box, and his hand smeared blood on the handle of the compartment. `Note to Self: get Lysol in here, stat,' she thought with a grimace, and turned the radio down to almost silent. He held a wad of her favorite scented blue tissues up to his nose to stem the flow of blood. His head fell back weakly against the head rest with a groan. “I told you to put your seatbelt on…” she said meekly. With another defeated groan, he slowly pulled the belt across his chest and clicked it soundly at his side.

 

 

 

 

“Um…do you think you might pass out or something? Is your vision spotted? Do you want me to take you to a hospital or anything?” she asked gently after a few long moments of silence.

 

 

 

 

“No,” he said weakly. He pulled the tissues back, as the bleeding had apparently stopped. He sniffled a few times and rubbed the area just under his nose, a bit harder than necessary, Kagome thought.

 

 

 

 

“I'm really sorry about all this…some help I am, huh?” she said, joking lamely.

 

 

 

 

“It's fine.”

 

 

 

 

“Are you gonna be late somewhere if I don't speed up? I mean, we're going seventy-five right now…but I could go a bit fas—“

 

 

 

 

“No…it's really fine. Don't worry about it. It's not your fault, really,” he insisted. He suddenly sounded exhausted, and, if Kagome wasn't mistaken, a bit sad. He rubbed the heel of his hand, covered by his sweatshirt, across his forehead, eyes clenched tightly shut as if he had a headache. `Well, with that bonk in the face, he probably does have a headache,' Kagome thought.

 

 

 

 

After a few minutes of complete and utter silence, Kagome pulled off the expressway at exit 174 as Inuyasha had instructed.

 

 

 

“Okay, where do I go now?” she prompted the boy, who still had his eyes shut and his hand pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes and glanced out of the window.

 

 

 

 

“This is fine,” he said.

 

 

 

 

“Huh? But…we're still on the service drive…I can't just leave you here—“

 

 

 

 

“This is fine,” he repeated. He unclipped his seat belt. “Just pull over.”

 

 

 

 

“You don't want me to take you to your house?”

 

 

 

 

“No, just pull over,” he emphasized, his hand poised on the door handle. Kagome shrugged and pulled over to the curb, putting the car in park. He practically launched himself out of the car, and flung the seat forward to get at his things. He shoved his arms through the straps of his bag and cradled the soggy books one arm while he pushed the seat back into its place.

 

 

 

“Um…alright, well…I'll see you tomorrow in Bio,” Kagome said, nonplussed at his sudden rush. He grunted a response she couldn't hear, and closed the door firmly. She blinked after his retreating form in her rearview mirror before shaking her head and pulling away from the curb to head home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inuyasha shuddered violently at the sudden blast of cold air that hit him once he left the warm little cocoon of the girl's car. `If you can call that sardine can a car,' he thought dryly. He was nowhere near dry, his nose stung, and on top of that, he had a pounding headache. Whether it had come from his face crashing into his knees or from the anxiety that was quickly building, he didn't know.

 

 

 

 

 

He clutched his pile of books close to his chest and trudged home, not wanting to go, but knowing he must. His mind idly wandered back to the girl whose car he'd just vacated.

 

 

 

 

`Introduce me to people…yeah right,' he thought derisively. She was a blabbermouth, he thought. She talked constantly and animatedly, the hand that wasn't steering the car waving and flapping about, causing the platinum-colored charm bracelet she wore to clink softly as she prattled on. She didn't even seem to realize just how excessively she was speaking, and Inuyasha had watched her in a vague kind of awe as the pom on top of her woolen Derbyshire-green hat bobbed with her movements. Only when he failed to give her a vocal response did she finally shut up. But not for long. `Some people just have to have noise,' he mused. `Weird girl…'

 

 

 

She hadn't seemed to care—or notice—that there was something not quite right about him. She had to be apart of the minority at Daisuke High that hadn't heard about him. `Well, that little group will be gone by tomorrow morning, first period,' he thought with certainty. `Too bad, I don't get to meet Eri,” he thought sarcastically.

 

 

 

 

Inuyasha regarded his house from the icy sidewalk with reluctance. He felt as though he were being sent to walk the plank as he shuffled stiffly up the walk, his damp, heavy jeans just starting to have tiny crystals form over them. Pulling his key out of his bag, he inserted it into the keyhole and slowly turned it. There was no point in trying to sneak up to his room—his father would no be right on the other side of the door, no doubt, just waiting to throttle him. He pushed the door open, and entered the lion's den, pressing it softly shut behind him.

 

 

 

 

“Inuyasha, come here,” the deep voice seemed to resonate through the sparsely furnished house. The boy shuffled into the kitchen where his father sat at the round table, nursing a sweating glass of nameless liquor. He was dressed in clothes that he only wore when he went out, and so, Inuyasha was somewhat comforted, as he knew he'd now be able to nurse his impending injuries in private.

 

 

 

 

 

“Inuyasha, do I stammer?” he asked. His voice was calm. Inuyasha hated that voice, deceivingly comforting in its tone.

 

 

 

 

“No, Sir,” the boy mumbled. He kept his head bowed, eyes carefully trained at the floor. His ears pressed flat against his head.

 

 

 

 

“Is the Japanese that I speak quite clear?”

 

 

 

 

“Yes, Sir.” The man nodded, a slight frown marring his face.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hm. I thought so. Then…you can understand me quite plainly when I speak to you,” he reiterated.

 

 

 

 

“Yes, Sir.” `Just hit me and get it over with!' Inuyasha screamed at him mentally. `Just finish the damn thing, please…'

 

 

 

 

“I thought so…do you know what time it is, Boy?”

 

 

 

 

“I…um…after four, Sir.”

 

 

 

 

“It's four oh-nine.”

 

 

 

 

“It was an accident…” Inuyasha began. “I…I was only looking for the front office, and then this horrible teacher came out of nowhere and—“

 

 

 

 

“Did I ask you for an explanation?” the man roared, slamming a palm flat on the table and making it and the boy jump.

 

 

 

 

“No, Sir,” he whispered.

 

 

 

 

“Did I not say this morning that I didn't want any of your, shit, Inuyasha? Didn't I say that?” he yelled, standing up.

 

 

 

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

 

 

 

“Detention. Your sorry ass goes and gets a detention on your first fucking day of school!” he raged on. He stepped closer to his son, his fists shaking with fury. “You get in a fight too?”

 

 

 

 

“No, Sir! I wasn't fighting anyone, I just—“

 

 

 

 

“Don't you lie to me, you filthy trash! Do you think I'm stupid? I can smell the stench of your blood,” he spat. “A fight with a human! A puny human made you bleed! Do you know how much of an embarrassment you are?” Inuyasha said nothing. His father laid his hands into his chest and shoved him hard, forcing the boy to the floor, his books skidding across the wooden planks. “Answer me, you twit,” he sneered dangerously.

 

 

 

 

“Yes, yes, Sir…I'm sorry I—“

 

 

 

 

“Don't speak. Don't say one more fucking word, you disgusting little halfwit. I don't to hear one more word out of your mouth…”

 

 

 

 

He braced against the floor, practically hyperventilating from the intense feeling of dread that washed over him and made him nauseous. His father's eyes segued from the rich gambol gold color that so closely mirrored his own into a furious lattice red. The boy whimpered and leaned away ever-so-slightly. That was all it took to bring a reckoning down on him.

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Inuyasha sat bent over on the lid of the toilet seat, his head between his knees, hands clamped tightly around his ankles as he tried to rid himself of the nausea that washed over him in waves. He had lost count of how many times he'd clenched his throat to bite back the bile that threatened to spew forth. He couldn't throw up—rather, he couldn't allow himself to throw up. That would only upset his father all the more, if he were to come back to the house and catch the scent of vomit. He'd lose his temper with Inuyasha simply for being so weak to give in to an urge so revolting.

 

 

 

 

 

Feeling the blood pounding in his skull from his awkward position, Inuyasha jerkily sat up and let the blood continue to flow normally before standing. He staggered out of the tiny bathroom, ignoring the mirror. He didn't need it to know how terrible he looked. He didn't want to see reflected back at him the discoloration that he knew mottled his right side. He didn't want to see his busted, bleeding lip, nor the outline of four fingers circling around his windpipe. He'd seen it all before. No need to rehash what had already been known to him.

 

 

 

 

He limped down to the base of the stairs where the phone sat in its wall cradle quite innocently. With a shaking hand, he picked it up and punched a number into its pad. He held the phone to his mouth, and the earpiece fell short of his ear, instead hitting at the place behind where his ears should have been, where he wished they were. It was of no consequence; he could still hear the ringing just fine.

 

 

 

 

“Hello?” came the voice, smooth, yet clipped and brisk.

 

 

 

 

“Sesshomaru?” Inuyasha asked needlessly, knowing it was him already.

 

 

 

 

“Yes. Who is this?” he asked, sounding annoyed and impatient.

 

 

 

 

“It's Inuyasha,” he said softly.

 

 

 

 

“Oh, Inuyasha…I'm sorry, I didn't even look at the ID,” he said quickly, allowing some of the annoyance to slip out of his voice. “What do you need?”

 

 

 

 

“Well…I was just wondering…when you were coming to visit again? Like…maybe you could come soon?” he asked, allowing hope to lilt his voice. The pause, followed by a long sigh caused those feelings to flee as quickly as they'd come.

 

 

 

 

“I don't know when that's going to happen, I'm afraid…I'm pretty tied down right now. Did I tell you I'm in Europe? Just discussing some new contracts and such. Anyway, it's pretty hectic. I'm here for at least another month,” he explained briskly. That was Sesshomaru: all cosmopolitan, sophistication, and business.

 

 

 

 

“Another month?” Inuyasha repeated despondently.

 

 

 

 

“At least,” the man repeated. “Listen, Inuyasha, I've got to go, I'm right in the middle of a meeting.”

 

 

 

 

“But, I—“

 

 

 

 

“Tell Father that I'll be sure to bring him back some of that fine French wine he loves so much, alright? I'll bring you back…well…something. Just tell him that. I really have to go.”

 

 

 

 

“Sess, wait—“

 

 

 

 

“Inuyasha, please. Don't whine, now. It's unbecoming, and quite frankly, you're getting a bit old for it. I tire of this routine. Try being a bit more outgoing or something instead of staying cooped up in the house all of the time. Now I really must go.”

 

 

 

 

“Sesshomaru—“ The line was dead. Inuyasha stared gloomily at the phone for a long moment before balancing it in its cradle once more.

 

 

 

 

He would count the days until his brother came back. He always had. It wasn't because they were so incredibly close. They weren't. In fact, Inuyasha was fairly certain that Sesshomaru knew next to nothing about him, and probably couldn't care less that he did.

 

 

 

 

The fact of the matter was that things went better for him when Sesshomaru was around.

 

 

 

 

Inuyasha looked forward to the man's visits as a father looks forward to the return of his prodigal son. Though incredibly rare and fleeting in their length, those visits were the only times when Inuyasha actually enjoyed being at home.

 

 

 

 

It was like Sesshomaru knocked twenty years off their father's life whenever he was around. He became young again. His father would laugh and smile and actually act like a real father. Even to Inuyasha…sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

Sesshomaru would always take his father out to dinner or to a baseball game that he had box seats for, or some other father-son activity. Once, Sesshomaru had even artfully persuaded their father to let Inuyasha tag along, when he was fourteen. It had been one of the best nights of his life. They'd gone to see a movie, and then taken a walk around the streets of Tokyo during a street fair. Taishou had spoken exclusively to Sesshomaru, as the younger inuyoukai had done the same, only speaking to his father, with Inuyasha simply tagging along a few steps behind them. But he'd been content to simply listen to their chat and watch as his talented older brother made their father laugh and smile. And for the briefest of moments, Taishou turned around and flashed Inuyasha the tiniest of half-smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

It was only a brief, upwards twitching of his lips. But on a face that had only directed scowls and expressions of rage towards Inuyasha, the boy recognized it for what it was immediately and had frozen completely in absolute shock. It was the only time he'd ever felt like maybe, just maybe, they were a tiny family.

 

 

 

 

 

Sesshomaru was the light in his father's life, with his commanding presence, his successful, self-made business, and, of course, his pure blood.

 

 

 

 

 

The deep, throbbing, painfully obvious inadequacy that Inuyasha always felt around the man was constantly just under the flesh, only needing the slightest hint from his father to sting anew. Even still, he couldn't hate his older brother. His feelings were quite the opposite, really. There were times when Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to be just like Sesshomaru: flawless, successful, and, of course, pure; free from what he felt was his curse: his filthy blood. It pained him to say, that as much as his father hurt, demeaned, and hated him, he still wanted to make the man proud. He still yearned for the man's approval, for even something as simple as a word of praise to pass from the man's lips to his own ears.

 

 

 

 

In all honesty, Inuyasha didn't care whether he was full demon or full human. Either one would have done him just fine. What he didn't want to be was a hanyou. A half-breed. An unfinished monster, as if stuck in some the middle of some strange metamorphosis. He wanted to look into the mirror and like what he saw. As a half-breed, he knew, he would never like what he saw. He wanted to be all of something. All human blood, or none at all. All demon blood, or none at all. It didn't matter. Just not this.

 

 

 

 

Inuyasha staggered his way back upstairs. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to bundle up and run away to his private getaway, and make his escape. But hurting like he was, he knew he would be unable to make the trip quickly, and therefore, wouldn't be able to return home before his father.

 

 

 

 

Once inside of his room, Inuyasha slumped into his bed, pulling the blanket over his shivering form, over his head. He had homework, he knew. He just wanted to take a small nap and escape for a bit before reality smacked him once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

 

Wow, even I'm depressed.

 

 

I hope everyone is okay with this pace. I know, it's kind of slow, but I'm building it up eventually, don't worry. I'm not going to tell it a day every three chapters at a time, that'd be awful. I'm just trying to explore Inuyasha's sad little head right now, and give some detail and some background.

 

 

And if anyone is worried about Sango and Miroku, yes, they will be in this story---Just not yet.

 

 

 

Oh, and I thought I made the teacher obvious, but I guess not.

 

 

Hint: His name is an anagram.

 

 

You know what to do! Review!