InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Worth Waiting For ❯ The St. Valentine's Day Massacre ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: They’re not mine. I just take them out to play once in a while.

A/N: This was the first lemon I ever attempted. Originally it was designed to be a PWP one-shot, but somehow it grew a plot (sort of).

Worth Waiting For   1. The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre  

It was a quiet morning in the Sengoku Jidai. Little wildlife marred the pristine whiteness of the mid-February meadow that lay between the small village and the nearby forest despite the slightly warmer than average temperatures and the thin layer of snow covering everything. That peace was about to be shattered by the two figures that entered the meadow from the direction of the village.

The first of the figures appeared far more massive than the second due to the heavy jacket that concealed a petite female form. Although anyone with the slightest trace of intellect could have seen that the girl was edging closer and closer to pure fury by her rapid pace and stiff movements, that fact was lost on her companion.

The second figure, visible only as a smear of brilliant red against the pale landscape, grabbed the teenaged girl by the arm and swung her around to face him. There was a brief exchange of heated words, and she tore her arm from his grasp, resuming her march towards the decrepit-looking wooden structure not far from the edge of the forest.

Not entirely believing that she had decided to totally ignore his wishes, the young hanyou leaped ahead of the girl, placing himself directly between her and her destination. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at her, trying to look especially intimidating.

Without slowing her pace in the slightest, she yelled, “SIT!”

As the luckless hanyou was driven face-first into the snow-covered ground by the power of the subduing spell he wore around his neck, the girl casually stepped over him, sitting on the edge of the well. Turning to look at the flattened male, she screamed, “SITSITSITSITSITSIT!” before swinging her legs over the side and dropping into the blackness of the old well.

Kagome groaned as she dragged her overstuffed bag up out of the well in the shrine’s well house. Although she had been traveling through the time portal on a regular basis for nearly three years now, her bag was usually much lighter when she returned. She stomped into the house, relieved that her mother didn’t seem to be home--she really didn’t feel up to explaining things right now. Ignoring the greetings from her younger brother, she stormed up the stairs to her room.

Dropping her bag in the middle of the room, she gave the innocent luggage a vicious kick. What the hell was wrong with him?!? It wasn’t as though she was going out of her way to be difficult. After all, she did everything that was asked of her, but that still wasn’t enough. That incredible idiot seemed to think that she was obligated to spend every waking moment doing whatever he wanted. After all, she did have a life…sort of.

Looking around, she decided that she needed nothing more than a long, hot bath. Nothing seemed to help raise her spirits or clear her head quite as much as a good soak in hot water.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom wearing a thick robe with a towel wrapped around her hair, she had gotten over a little more of her anger. After all, she had known what he was like for a very long time now--with but a single exception, he had objected to her returning home on every occasion: why had she thought that he would take this time any differently? It wasn’t even that important an issue--not like a test or anything. One of her friends was having a party for Valentine’s Day, and she had been invited. She hadn’t even really wanted to attend until he had decided to make an issue of it. After all, given the nature of the party, the house was going to be full of either couples or desperate singles trying to find whatever companionship they could.

She sat on the edge of her bed, trying to remember exactly what had possessed her to accept the invitation. It wasn’t like she was desperate or anything. Granted that she couldn’t explain the nature of their relationship to her friends, but--

She paused briefly, thinking about that relationship. Was there even any relationship to speak of? Much of the time it didn’t seem like it--he was rude, violent, demanding, childish, stubborn, and utterly self-centered. But then there were the other times, when one or the other of them was hurt, or ill, or in trouble, or even just unhappy, when he sometimes let something a little softer show through. Of course, every time he did, it was only a matter of time before he had to do something incredibly annoying to bring things back to the old status quo.

Standing up, she dragged herself to the closet, looking for something to wear tonight, something that would make her look good, but not available--or desperate.

The hanyou had been sitting, his back against the wooden side of the old well, for some amount of time he couldn’t define, growing more and more furious as the minutes passed. What the hell was wrong with the wench? Didn’t she understand how important it was that they complete the Shikon no Tama as soon as possible?

It wasn’t even as though she had some kind of test at that school of hers. This time she was leaving him behind to go to some kind of festival, of all things. A low snarl escaped him as his claws dug involuntary trenches in the frozen earth at his sides.

She would, he decided, pay dearly for this betrayal when she returned.

Startled out of his growing anger by the faintly musical sound of the rings on the head of the monk’s staff jingling as he walked along, the hanyou looked up to see that he was apparently the object of at least a little amusement. “What the hell do you want, Miroku?”

The Buddhist monk looked at the hanyou sitting on the frozen ground like an abandoned puppy with an air of righteous innocence. “I was wondering if Kagome-sama returned to her home. When neither of you returned, I was concerned for her safety.”

“She went back, monk. So what?”

Miroku was beginning to enjoy this: one of his greatest pleasures--aside from groping young women, of course--was tormenting the hanyou about his tumultuous relationship with the girl from the future. “Didn’t you try to stop her?” Glancing at the deep depression in the frozen earth near the well, he continued, “Ah, I see that you did. I take it that she wasn’t particularly agreeable.”

Inuyasha stood, trying to ease the kinks that the series of “sits” had left in his back. “You could say that,” he growled.

The monk stepped back, just out of range of the hanyou’s sharp claws. “I have to say that you’re taking this a lot better than I had expected, given the nature of the holiday.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, monk?”

Miroku fought down the urge to take a swing at the inuhanyou with his staff. “From what Kagome-sama was telling us earlier, Valentine’s Day is a very important holiday for young people--a time for lovers to celebrate their relationships.” Turning to head back to the village, he continued, “If you had been listening instead of screaming at her about going back home, you would have known that.”

The hanyou watched him walk back toward the village, thinking about what the monk had said. As if she could have a relationship on her side of the well--

‘Of course not,’ the tiny voice at the back of his mind said. ‘You always keep her here away from her friends and family.’

Wasn’t there some guy in her world that she talked about once in a while? The one who was always bringing her gifts and asking her about her health and helping her with her schoolwork--what was his name? Homo, Hobo, something like that.

The voice came again, mocking him. ‘Why wouldn’t she like him--he doesn’t yell at her all the time and tell her how useless she is and how she could never measure up to Kikyo….’

Inuyasha slumped against the side of the well, head in his hands, suddenly realizing that he was on the losing end of any comparison between himself and the considerate boy from her own world. His ears flattened to his head as he finally understood that the Shikon no Tama would one day be completed and she would then return to her own world, leaving him behind forever.

He pounded his fist into the ground, not stopping until his torn flesh stained the snow crimson. Standing up, he walked slowly back in the direction of the village, heedless of the pain in his hand and the drops of blood marking his passage through the snowy field. There had to be some way he could prevent the future he feared most from coming--there had to be a way to keep Kagome by his side.