InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ To Begin Again ❯ Scroll Two: Mourning ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A month now she had not been back home and Kagome was beginning to get anxious. She had gone through every extra school uniform she’d brought and the regular clothes she’d brought were not exactly appropriate for the current weather conditions. It was warm for spring and getting warmer. During her last trip through the well the temperatures had still been rather chilly, thus the clothes that she had brought with her were too heavy for comfortable wear. She’d finally had to give in and allow Sango to purchase a couple of summer yukata for her as her money held no bearing in the Sengoku Jidai. She’d promised to repay Sango by finding some useful things in her era for the girl to have although the taijiya had insisted there was no need.


With the purchase and wear of the feudal era clothing, she was no longer the strangely clad miko of the Shikon no Tama…she was just another miko whose only claim to specialty was that she just happened to be in charge of the sacred jewel.


She wasn’t exactly sure she liked that idea. There was something…energizing…about being instantly recognized when she walked into a town. She’d never really tried to be popular at school; she just always was. To get the same reaction of popularity in the Sengoku Jidai by all the villagers was…well…after all, she was the Miko no Shikon; she traveled with the infamous Inuyasha; she and her friends saved countless lives by slaying evil youkai and worked to gather the shards of the jewel so that feudal Japan would be safe once more.




Yep, she was special.


Now if only he would realize that.


He was a temperamental hanyou who had cautiously avoided her for a complete month.



“Inuyasha?” Kagome watched him stand just as she came in the hut and brush past her without a second glance. “Inuyasha, where are you going?”


He didn’t even stop or turn around. “Out.”


When he spoke to her his words were short and clipped, not harsh, but almost strained. He looked at her forehead or her nose, but never her eyes. They didn’t argue any more and when she tried to find out what was bothering him, his eyes would flash with some emotion that disappeared before she could recognize it. Then he would ‘keh’ and walk off.


“Hurry it up, wench. We ain’t got all day.” Inuyasha stood at the edge of a path through the trees, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his haori, scowling in her direction.


She forcefully zipped her backpack closed and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m coming.” She walked quickly to catch up with the rest of them and then stopped in front of Inuyasha.




He looked at her for a second, his eyes focused on the tip of her nose. Such a situation would have ended in a blown up argument and an osuwari before but that day, and the days following, he issued no smart remarks on stubborn, slow bitches or girls who carried to much stuff. He just waited.


“Inuyasha? You okay?” She frowned, worried.


His eyes moved to look at the center of her forehead, completely avoiding her eyes. Something flickered in his golden depths, but was soon gone. “Keh, I’m fine, wench.” And then he turned on his heels and walked off.


He still carried her and he still protected her, but it was painfully obvious that things had changed between them.


She sighed and looked down at the bowl of leaves she was currently grinding for Kaede’s mixtures. The old woman’s arthritis would no longer allow her hands to do such work and she had taken to storing powders so that when the need came they were readily available. Sango, Shippou, and Kagome had been helping her gather the herbs and grind them to powder.


Does he blame me? She wondered, once more questioning her own guilt. I was trying to help. I didn’t know…maybe I did know…what if I really was responsible? Oh, Kami-sama…what if I did kill her? He blames me for her death, I just know he does. He probably wishes that I’d go back through the well and never come back. And here I was, like a baka, sticking around because I thought he needed me…


It was the truth. She had not gone back through the well since Kikyo’s death because she thought that her disappearance, despite her arguments that she would be back, would only hurt him.




The shadow in his eyes when he had looked at Kikyo’s makeshift body lying lifeless on that beach…he’d looked so afraid…it was a look she’d never seen on Inuyasha before and one she never wanted to see again. She had thought perhaps he was afraid because he was losing someone he cared about once more and she didn’t want to add to that fear by leaving him, but maybe that wasn’t the cause of his fear…maybe he was afraid of her…of Kagome…



“K-Kikyo…Naraku, that bastard. He did this.”


“I-Inuyasha…I'm Sorry…I'm Sorry…I'm Sorry…I'm Sorry…I'm Sorry…”



“Kagome?”




The old miko’s voice tore into her thoughts and she lifted her head, realizing for the first time that she had started to cry as she felt a tear roll down her cheek followed by another and then another.




“Kagome, what is wrong child?”


What could she possibly say to Kaede about what she had been thinking? Hurriedly she put the bowl and grinding stick down, wiping her tears with a harsh action on the back of her hand.




“I’m okay, Kaede-sama…I was just thinking that’s all…about my family and…things…”


The old woman stirred the contents of a pot and looked across the room at the young girl, eyeing her suspiciously. “I may be old, child, but I’ve still got my wits about me. You were not thinking about your family just now. You were thinking about Inuyasha.”


Kagome sighed. Was she really that obvious or was the woman taking a stab in the dark? Either way, there was no denying the truth of her observation when the heat of a blush crept across her cheeks.




“Yeah…It’s just that he’s been so distant since…since then. He doesn’t talk to me anymore and I’m worried. I think he holds me responsible, Kaede-obaa, and maybe I am…I don’t know anymore.” She wrung her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the tie of her yukata, no longer able to meet Kaede’s eyes after having admitted her possible guilt.


The old woman heaved a great sigh and slowly rose from where she had been kneeling over their dinner. The food was cooked, it was just a matter of keeping it warm until the others could arrive. Inuyasha was heavens knew where, sulking, and Miroku had gone to retrieve Sango from Kohaku’s grave. She gave Kagome a kerchief to dry her eyes with and touched the young girl’s head.




She had come to a realization herself in the past month. These strange young men and women who often took shelter under her roof were not just guests in her home as they had been when they had first arrived nearly two years before. This was not just some hut they came to when they needed shelter or advice or a place to heal. This was their home and they were her family, her…well, she was too old to be considered a mother… These talented and special young people were like her grandchildren and she worried over them as much as any good obaa would when they were away. And this village, this hut, would always be there for them even when she no longer was. They would always have a place to come home to.


“It’s not you that Inuyasha blames, Kagome,” she told the young girl. “I do believe he has taken full responsibility on himself and his distance is because he feels that he is no longer strong enough to protect you.” She smiled kindly down at the girl. “Do not fret, child. Inuyasha will come around eventually. He simply needs time to heal.”


Kagome nodded, still not feeling appeased.




The warm spring sun beat down on her back, warming the thin cloth of her summer yukata and the skin beneath it. Had she not been so deep in prayers she might have noticed the shadow that came to loom over her, blocking her from that very heat; but her head was bowed and her eyes were closed, her lips moving slightly as she spoke under her breath. It wasn’t until a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder did she realize that she was not alone.


The taijiya who had allowed so few to sneak up on her in the past, jumped at the touch, mentally scolding herself for being caught off guard as she had been. What if it had been a youkai and not one of her companions? They were still in possession of several jewel shards and the power of the shards lured youkai their way constantly…Naraku was lured by those same shards. It could have been him that snuck up on her so.


Naraku.


Just the thought of that name left a bad taste in her mouth and, for a moment, her deep brown eyes flashed with something besides grief. She would kill Naraku for what he had done. He would die a slow and painful death, begging for mercy at her hands by the time she was done with him. She would make him feel what she had felt the night Kohaku was forced to kill their family; the pain she’d experienced when he came back to himself and saw what he had done; the agony of returning to her village only to find them slaughtered by rogue youkai at Naraku’s orders; the helplessness of watching her little brother roam the earth in a trance, controlled by the very thing that their village was sworn to protect, a pawn in Naraku’s game. Then she would rip out his heart the way he had done her when he decided Kohaku’s usefulness had run out and he stole the shard from him, leaving him to die alone in the forest knowing that Inuyasha and their friends would show up on that very path too late to save him.


Somewhere deep within her, hope stirred. Her brother was free now…free from Naraku’s grasp, free from the pain, free from the memories… If her gentle brother had had to live with the knowledge and memory of what he had done at Naraku’s bidding, would he have been better off?

“Ane-ue,” Kohaku called, bounding up to her as she repaired a crack in Hiraikotsu. He was cradling something in his arms. “Look what I found, Sango.” He opened his arms slightly to reveal a small, blue bird, its wing hanging open at its side. The creature shivered in her brother’s arms. “Its wing is broken. Will you help me bandage it?”


Sango set Hiraikotsu across her lap and had him set the bird on the large boomerang so she could get a better look. “Kohaku, you’re supposed to be practicing, not nursing injured animals.”


The boy sighed and scuffed his heel in the dirt. “I know Ane-ue, but I couldn’t just leave him there to be eaten by some animal or something. Besides,” he added quietly, “I’m not any good with the sickle.”


“And you’re never going to get any better if you don’t practice.” Sango scooped up the injured blue bird in one arm and stood up, easily taking Hiraikotsu in her free hand. “I’ll bandage its wing if you’ll go back to practicing. And no more birds or dogs or rabbits or whatever else you find - at least not until this one’s better, alright?” She gave him a smile. “You’re better than you think you are Kohaku, and even father was just saying how proud he is of you.”


At that the boy’s face lit up and he looked up at her, hope shining in eyes so much like her own. “Really?”


“Yes, really. His son is going to follow in his footsteps and become a taijiya. Of course he’s proud and so am I.”

No, Kohaku could have never lived with the knowledge that he had harmed his own family. If he had lived and had remembered that night…he wouldn’t have been her little brother anymore. It would have made him into something unrecognizable. The gentleness would be gone and he would never be happy.


Miroku saw the flash of emotions that flew across Sango’s face. Surprise, anger, sorrow, hope, all played in her eyes within the seconds since she had turned around. His own violet-black eyes were saddened by the sight before him. Her brother had died the night he slew the taijiya family. What had remained had been no more than a shell, like Kikyo.


Briefly his eyes flicked to the side to rest upon the small, stone grave marker with Kikyo’s name engraved upon it. She had been killed as well, her ashes returned to the memorial where they had once rested.




Unlike Sango, the hanyou’s grief was much harder to detect or to soothe because he kept it locked so deeply within him that it seemed he was almost indifferent to the priestess’s death. However, they knew that he was not because they had seen the look in his golden eyes when he had seen her there, broken on the banks of the stream. Naraku had poisoned her and forced the dead souls from her body until all that remained was the small part of Kagome’s soul, which had refused to be expelled by the quasi hanyou. When Kagome had tried to purify the miasma, as she had done once before, Kikyo had simply let go and returned what she had so long ago stolen.


“Sango-sama,” he said quietly, “I did not mean to disturb you. I simply wish to inform you that dinner is prepared when you are ready to return.” Absently his hand wandered to her cheek, brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumb.


Somewhere in her mind Sango seemed to register that this was an unusual act for the monk who, when his hand wandered, usually caressed a different cheek. However, for the time being it was a distant and unimportant thought.




“Thank you, Houshi-sama, I won’t be much longer,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I…I just had to speak with Kohaku…”


Miroku furrowed his brow slightly as more tears made their way down her cheeks. Kneeling in front of her, he set his staff to the side and took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Sango, do you believe that Kohaku is happy now?”


“I hope that he is,” she replied and used the cloth to dry her cheeks then tried to hand it back to him, but he shook his head, motioning for her to keep it. “I think he is with Chichi-ue and the others now and that they have forgiven him just as I did. Hai, I do believe that he is happy now.”


Miroku looked at the grave marker that indicated Kohaku’s resting place, engraved with his name. “I do not believe that he is.” When her eyes widened in shock that he would say such a thing to her, he slowly brought his gaze to rest on her once more. “I believe that he is unhappy because he knows that he has caused you pain.”


“No.” Her denial was forceful and she pulled away from the monk, turning away from him as she rose to her feet. “I forgave him for what he did to Chichi-ue and the others. I forgave him for what he did while under Naraku’s control. He was not himself. He knows now that I have forgiven him.”


Miroku rose to his feet, coming to stand in front of her once more, and put a hand on each shoulder so that she could not move away. When she turned her head away from him, he took her chin in his hand, brining her back to look in his eyes. “That is not what I mean,” he said gently. “Sango, it has been over a month. You have to begin to heal at some point and move on with your life. It is what Kohaku would want. His spirit cannot rest peacefully until he knows that you have begun to recover.”


Her eyes widened and her breath left her body. Without warning, she fell against him, grasping the material of his robes in her fists as shattering sobs shook her body. He brought his arms around her, holding her until she had calmed enough that she could breathe almost normally. Without realizing it, he had started to stroke her hair and back in an attempt to soothe her and she continued to lean against him after the tears had stopped.


Finally she moved so she could look up at him. “You called me Sango…just Sango…”


His smile was simple, not like the prince charming, all pearly whites, that he used on other girls. This one was sincere. “Well, we are promised to be wed.”


She blushed, realizing he was correct. He had, in essence, asked her to marry him and she had readily accepted; but that had been a long time ago and he was only now beginning to treat her as his betrothed? Wait, that wasn’t true. Hadn’t he refrained from inappropriately touching other women shortly after that? She tried to recall the last time he had been caught with his hand on some other woman’s bum, but couldn’t.




And he had begun to walk solely with her when they walked or shared Kirara when they used the neko youkai for transportation. It also hadn’t been long after that that he had begun to sleep slightly closer to her at night. She had not noticed before, having been too preoccupied with all the things he had done to make her feel as if his proposition had been nothing more than a flight of fancy or a spur of the moment whim for him. She’d begun to wonder if she had misinterpreted his meaning.


“Miroku…” His name on her lips sounded strange and yet felt so natural. “Thank you, Miroku.”



He nodded and kissed her forehead, causing them both to blush, before opening his arms so she could step out of his embrace. Once he had retrieved his staff, he waited for Sango to say farewell to her brother and the two of them started back down the hill towards Kaede’s hut.


She glanced at him from the side and tentatively reached out, taking his cursed hand in hers and blushing. He had tried to communicate his intentions towards her in little ways that she had been too blind and too suspicious to recognize and now it was her turn to show him that she intended to hold him to that promise. She had realized something when he held her and she cried her sorrows out on his robes: letting go of and saying goodbye to someone you loved was never easy, but it made the pain a little more bearable to know that there was someone beside you, supporting you and loving you.




He did not come to dinner.


The mood in the cabin had lightened a bit when Shippou and Kirara had come in, panting after exerting themselves in a game of chase. Her spirits had brightened just a little more when Miroku and Sango entered the cabin, hand in hand and smiling at one another. She would have to speak with Sango about what had gone on when the monk went to get her for dinner. This sudden change in attitudes was definitely gossip-worthy.


But the burst of normalcy had diminished quickly when they had finished eating and the hanyou, who was always hungry and never turned down a meal in all the years she’d known him, had still not appeared. He had probably been waiting for Sango to finish her prayers at Kohaku’s grave so that he could visit Kikyo’s in private. He had most certainly lost track of time, they decided, and there was no need to worry.


But when the sun set and the moon rose overhead and he still had not come, the uneasiness in her stomach had suddenly twisted and knotted itself into worry. And when the kitsune cub fell asleep in her lap, the fire starting to die out, and he still had not returned, the knot of worry had become full blown panic.


Kagome maneuvered herself so that she could reach her pillow and set it next to her and then shifted the kit so that he was curled on it instead of her legs. It was soft and warm from the fire and held her scent so that he should not awaken before her return, she decided, and stood up.




“I’m going to find Inuyasha. Something may have happened to him. It’s not like him to not show up for a meal.”


Sango nodded, her brows knitted with worry also. “Take Kirara with you.”




The fire neko, upon hearing her name, stood and stretched, yawning slightly.


“Mreow.”


Kagome nodded and walked out, holding the door so that Kirara could trot out behind her. Once out in the open the tiny youkai took on her full form, fiery feet and all, and walked slowly beside the human miko towards the forest of the Goshinboku. It was his favorite place and the first place she would suspect him to be. But before they could get there Kirara turned in another direction, pausing only slightly to indicate that Kagome should follow her.


They found him in the grass in front of Kikyo’s grave marker, sitting there cross-legged, staring straight ahead with the wind blowing his silver hair slightly off his back. He’d been there for quite some time, probably since Sango and Miroku left, and showed no signs of moving.


Stopping a good ways back from the hill, Kagome put a hand on Kirara’s back, lightly rubbing the fur there in an effort to soothe her own self. He was probably worried that Urasue, or someone like her, would attempt to steal Kikyo’s ashes and burial soil to once again resurrect the priestess. She, whom he had not been able to protect in life, he would be sure to protect in death.


She sat down, drawing her knees under her and Kirara lay beside her, offering her large body for warmth. Despite the fact that the days were warm, the nights were still chilly and she still wore the thin yukata, which ended just below her knees; and, unlike with her school uniform, her legs were bare with only a pair of sandals covering her feet. Gratefully, she snuggled up to the large cat and put an arm around her back.


She didn’t approach him because she didn’t want to disturb him, only to know that he was safe. She had planned to leave once she discovered his location, but he seemed so…depressed as he sat there, shoulders hunched over, eyes locked on the stone marker, that she wanted to comfort him though she knew he’d never allow it. She just couldn’t leave him alone like that…



He knew she was there from the second she and the oversized feline had walked up, but he didn’t acknowledge her presence with so much as a flick of his ear. He kept his gaze straight ahead, away from her in the hopes that she would give up on him and return to Kaede’s home where she belonged, tucked away in her warm sleeping bag and getting the rest he knew she needed.


But she didn’t.


Instead she insisted on staying where she was, far enough away that she wouldn’t disturb him and yet close enough that the cool night breeze carried her unique lavender and rose scent to his sensitive nose. That was how he knew she had not left, but had chosen to stay and watch over him for as long as he decided to stay at the gravesite.




Baka girl. It wasn’t like he needed someone to protect him. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and, in fact, he was the one they relied on to protect them, not the other way around.


His first idea was that if he ignored her then she might give up and go back, and so he continued to sit in the grass and stare off into the starry night sky, pretending he didn’t realize she was there.




He knew Kagome was stubborn. Hell, she was near as stubborn as he was and that was what had caused most of their fights. He also knew that once she got an idea into her head, it was a long and difficult process to get it out again. That’s why it was always so hard…and loud…when they had to deal with her notions of going home. Loud was the reason she usually won. Girls, he had to admit, were just better at screaming than guys were. They could raise the pitch of their voice to a high-toned screech whenever they desired and such noises were very harsh on his delicate ears. That’s why, in an attempt to make the abuse to the aforementioned appendages cease, he would give in.


That she sometimes cried had nothing to do with it. Those crocodile tears that would stream down her face and cloud her blue eyes meant absolutely nothing to him.


Nada. Zilch. Nunca. Niente. Nothing.


It was just more proof that she was a weak bitch, right?


And he especially didn’t give in because she used that word - that word that activated the damn rosary. Humiliating, that thing was. Sure, he was an inu hanyou and, yeah, his dad was an inu youkai, but he wasn’t just any old dog daemon. He was a tai youkai, Lord of the Western Lands. For him, the youngest son of Inutaishou, tai youkai, being told to ‘sit’ like some common mongrel was totally and utterly humiliating.


And it hurt!


He would, of course, never show or admit to pain, especially when it was caused by some human girl, but having one’s face impact the ground with a force hard enough to create a crater in one’s wake was painful. Did she think that just because he was a hanyou that he didn’t feel it? Of course he felt it! The same way he felt it when Sesshomaru had rammed his hand through his stomach or the many times he’d been run through with a sword or a tentacle or whatever else his enemies could find.


The fact that he didn’t tell anyone for them to know that it hurt never crossed his mind. To admit pain was to admit weakness, and he was not about to admit he was weak. If he were to say something, they might not consider him good enough to protect them anymore and they might leave, then he’d be alone again.


He did not want to be alone.


Just the thought scared him. For years he’d been alone after his mother had died until he had met Kikyo.


Kikyo.


She had offered him a respite from the emptiness, the loneliness that had been consuming him for years. She had been his companion, his confidante, his friend and his chosen mate. He’d had every intention of using the Shikon no Tama to become human so that he and Kikyo could live their lives together and be happy. But he had lost her to betrayal, to foul trickery and to death only to have her return half a century later with promises that they would be together in hell once the jewel had been restored.


Now she was gone again, once more dying at Naraku’s hands. And once more he had been unable to protect her. She was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.


Inuyasha focused his attention behind him to pick up any movements in the girl’s location, but could only hear the far away rumble of Kirara’s purring. The neko youkai must have been enjoying a good rub down. He knew how those felt from the few times that Kagome had been able to scratch his ears without being batted away. For some odd reason the human seemed to be obsessed with his ears and used every available opportunity to put her hands on them, squealing at how soft and fuzzy they were. They were just ears…and just a reminder of what he was, a half-breed. As if he needed to be reminded. Of course, the girl seemed to enjoy that fact too, speaking as if it were something to be proud of.


Nothing about Kagome made sense.


Resisting the urge to turn his head and see just what the girl was up to, he brought his golden gaze back down to the stone grave marker.




If Kikyo had continued to roam the Earth until the shards were recovered, would he have really followed her to hell? There had been a time when he would have gladly died, when something inside of him had actually hoped that his next attempt to steal the jewel would lead to Kikyo aiming her arrow with the intention to cause death. There had been a time when he cursed her because she spared his life again and again and again, prolonging his agony.


Did he still want to die?


If his life were to end, who would protect them, his pack? Who would fetch Kagome when she lingered too long in her time? Then…if the jewel were reassembled, there would be no reason to fetch Kagome…she’d be back at her home to stay with no further reason to travel back and forth through the well.


He couldn’t say when, but at some point during their journey together it had become natural to have her with him and then it had grown to a point where he wanted - needed - her with him in a way that he had never needed anyone before.


Did he still want to die?


No. He didn’t.




Something warm was being draped over her, something that smelt of grass and woodlands. She snuggled into the warmth only to find a gentle pressure on her waist and thighs before feeling the sensation that she was weightless. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to lift herself from the fog of sleep and find out just what was going on, but her body’s desire to stay in that restful relaxation was becoming much too strong. When had she fallen asleep anyway? The last thing she remembered was scooting closer to Kirara for warmth and waiting for Inuyasha to come back to the cabin…


“..nu...a…sha…” She tried in vain to make her mouth work, but could only elicit a sleep induced mumble, and reached for whatever cradled her until she gripped a soft warm material in her fist. She was only barely aware that she was moving before the fog once more trapped her in dreamland.




Stupid girl. Did she plan to sit out there all night? She was going to catch her death of cold trying something like that. He’d really have to knock some sense into her now.


With that thought in mind, he stood up and walked over to her and the neko youkai who looked up at him with large red eyes as if to ask what took him so long.




“Keh,” he muttered and looked down at the girl who had fallen asleep, leaning against the youkai’s midsection, her arm draped over the feline’s back and her head resting on her arm.




She still wore the short, thin piece of material that Sango had tried to pass off as a yukata, swearing it was not that indecent. The girl shivered in her sleep and he undid his haori, draping it over her legs and shoulders. Immediately she curled up further, bringing more of her exposed flesh beneath the makeshift blanket.


Hanyou and youkai exchanged glances before he knelt down and scooped her up into his arms, bridal style, careful not to jar her and wake her. The neko stood and stretched, yawning so that it’s large fangs were exposed before she blinked and walked in time with Inuyasha, back to the old woman’s hut.


“…nu…a…sha…”


He looked down, relieved to find her still asleep, unsure if he could have stood to have her conscious while he carried her. There were too many thoughts circling his mind for him to be able to talk to her right then.




He had failed to protect Kikyo after promising her that he would. He couldn’t stand to think what his life would be like if he were to fail to protect Kagome…if something were to happen to the young woman cradled in his arms…just the idea made his stomach knot.



A/N: I know that in the show Sango and Miroku call each other by their given names, but in the manga she always refers to him as Houshi-sama and he calls her Sango-sama. If you’ll remember in the manga when Koga and Inuyasha met for the first time, Koga called out to Kagome by just her name with no tag added and Inuyasha got mad and screamed at him not to call her so familiarly…that’s why I had Miroku calling Sango with no tag and her calling him Miroku and why she was surprised when he called her just Sango…