Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Like Sakura Petals Falling... ❯ Refuge ( Chapter 8 )

Blanket Disclaimer: InuYasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, YuYu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi. Perverse bastardizations of both can be blamed on me.

 

 

"All of this dust All of this past All of this over and gone and never coming back All of this forgotten, not by me." - `All of This Past' by Sarah Bettens

 

 

Chapter Eight (Refuge)

 

Kagome stood just inside the doorway of her childhood bedroom, oddly grateful for the reprieve from her family's incessant attentions. Her room remained seemingly untouched since the last time she'd left it three years ago.

 

Three years. Had it only been three years? To Kagome it had felt like centuries since she had last stepped foot in this room A lifetime since she had been a part of this family and their small shrine. Her life, of the life that she had known, a distant and fading memory leaving her feeling empty and disconnected, lost. A shadow of her vibrant young miko she had once been, a ghost.

 

Her family's own reactions to her sudden reappearance only seemed to further that analogy. Hover about her as though afraid that if they leave her alone for a mere five seconds she disappear again. Kagome was silently grateful that none of them had questioned her on her disappearance those three years ago. Though that small blessing could be in part on account for Shuuichi's presence.

 

Kagome could not resist the small sigh and smile as she quietly closed her bedroom door. Not bothering with the light, Kagome moved silently to the window, and gazed out of the window at the shrine grounds bathed in moonlight below.

 

Aside from her mother's constant fretting over Kagome's state of comfort and well-being, was the veritable hero-worship of one Minamino Shuuichi. Kagome's smile widened slightly in the dark. Apparently, Shuuichi-kun could do no wrong in her family's eyes. Fight youkai, loving and devoted older brother, rescuing and returning stray daughters.. All in a day's work.

 

Hail fellow, well met, and all that. She hadn't seen such adoration since her family had welcomed InuYasha into their home.

 

Kagome's smile faded softly, as her brow furrowed in frustration.

 

“InuYasha,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of her window. “What happened?”

 

Kagome's memories were a tangled web of chaotic imagery of battles, violence, destruction, slaughter… and then, nothing. As though someone had turned off a movie right before the end scene.

 

Did I die? Kagome wondered as she turned away from her window to stare blindly at her room. But if I died, then why am I here? How?

 

Kagome bit her lower lip in thought as she sank down onto the edge of her bed.

 

“What happened?” She breathed out to the empty room.

 

Kagome started at the sudden soft knock on her bedroom door, tearing her forcibly from her brooding thoughts. She stared blankly at the door, until she heard another rapping followed by a hesitant “Kagome?”

 

“Yes,” she called out squinting as light spilled in through the doorway as Souta slipped into the room quietly.

 

“Why's it dark in here?” He asked with slightly petulant frown. His voice had dropped several octaves since she had seen him last. Long gone was the childlike tenor she long accustomed with her kid brother. It was vaguely disconcerting to hear her little Souta sound… and look, so grown.

 

Kagome just shrugged and patted the spot beside her on the bed. “Just didn't fell like turning on a light.” She replied simply.

 

“Oh, okay.” Souta replied sitting beside her, only to fall silent for several minutes. In that time, Kagome felt those soft, brown eyes observing her In the dark; as though searching for some hidden answer.

 

“Kagome?” Souta finally broke the silence, softly calling her name.

 

“Yes, Souta.” Kagome replied with a quiet smile.

 

“You're not going away again, are you?” He blurted out, brown eyes watching her with an intensity that caught Kagome by surprise.

 

He's grown up! She thought with a sudden pang.

 

“No.” She answered aloud softly. “I'm staying right here from now on.”

 

“Promise?” Souta demanded in a manner that was childish in an achingly familiar way.

 

“I promise.” Kagome laughed out gently. “Where would I go anyway?” She asked lightly.

 

“So you did it? You and InuYasha defeated Naraku?” Souta asked, his eyes lighting up in his excitement. All grown up, but still her Souta.

 

Kagome's smile faltered. “I don't know.” She whispered. “I can't remember.”

 

“You can't remember?” Souta echoed his own face sobering into soft lines of concern.

 

“I--- it…” Kagome frowned at her own inarticulateness. “It's all so confusing.” She sighed in frustration.

 

“It's okay, it's okay.” Souta quickly soothed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder comfortingly. “You'll remember, just give it some time.”

 

Kagome nodded, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment, before sitting up straight to meet his eyes squarely.

 

“Hey! When'd you get taller than me?” She demanded with a mock pout, winning a startled laugh from her younger sibling.

 

“Growth spurt.” He announced, puffing out his lean chest mightily. “You can't call me a baby anymore.” He teased.

 

“No, but `brat' is still in the running.” Kagome quipped back with a playful slap on his shoulder.

 

“Ooh! That really hurt!” Souta taunted, only to yelp in pain with his sister punched him in the same shoulder.

 

“Don't get snippy with me.” Kagome huffed turning up her nose daintily in mock disdain. She cast him a quick sideways glace before smirking. “Brat.”

 

“Hey!” Souta protested half-heartedly before the two dissolved into laughter.

 

“You know, I'm really glad you're back.” Souta admitted once he'd sobered enough to get a word out.

 

Kagome hiccupped on her giggles, and managed a “Me, too.” Taking a few deep breaths, she finally managed to sober enough to add. “Now get out! I meant it when I told Mama I was tired.”

 

“You mean it was just a clever ruse to escape Turbo Mom?” Souta asked feigning astonishment, then shrugged. “Okay, okay. I'm going.” He added, pushing himself to his feet.

 

When he got to the door, he turned back face solemn. “She's been worried sick about you. Scared of what to think.” He stated flatly.

 

“I know.” Kagome replied softly, averting her eyes from his steady gaze.

 

“But you're here now, and you're not going to up and leave us. You promised.” Souta added with a cheer that sounded somewhat forced; then slipped out of her room, leaving Kagome alone with her thoughts.

 

~*~

 

Only one word could even begin to explain the scene unfolding before wary eyes.

 

Chaos.

 

The world was awash in crimson, white, and green, like some morbid Christmas card scene. The air biting at the skin in its unforgiving chill, and rank with the scents of death and blood. A deafening din of cries, and the clash of weaponry shell-shocking to the mind, adding to the all intensive sensory overload.

 

Suddenly through the roaring confusion, tentacles came into view. Then the sense of constriction as feet were forcibly left to dangle feet above the ground.

 

“InuYasha! No!”

 

“Kongo Souha!”

 

Screams ignited deafening and shrill; then the world bled to pink.

 

~*~

 

Hiei awoke with a violent start, nearly cap-sizing himself from his perched position. Blinking, the first thing that came into his focus was a haze of pink.

 

Pink? He blinked rapidly as a multitude of tiny, delicate petals came into focus. Sakura petals. He realized, still unsettled even as he relaxed back into the braches of the cherry tree he'd found refuge in.

 

Absentmindedly, Hiei lifted one hand to massage his brow over the implanted Jagan eye as it throbbed and pulsed. His brows drawing together as he frowned in thought.

 

His dreams, visions, whatever the hell they were, were getting worse. Or was that better?

 

Elements of them were becoming clearer, and Hiei was finding it easier and easier to recall the jumbled images he was onslaught with repeatedly. Helping immensely to organize, and create some bizarre sense of chronological order for these psychic outpourings.

 

Though the source and relevance of these images still eluded Hiei's comprehension, despite their growing clarity. Leaving him vaguely disoriented and unsettled by the events being randomly played out to him.

 

Whomever's psychic baggage he'd found himself forced to endure would surely pay, and pay dearly for their impositions upon his psyche. It was just a matter of finding the source, and Hiei suspected the key to discover said individual lie in the visions. A damned annoying conundrum.

 

Growling lowly to himself, Hiei glared at a small fragile, pink petal as it drifted, then settled against the stark blackness of his attire, followed by a second then a third.

 

He winced as the Jagan eye gave off another throbbing pulse. Sometimes he felt as though the images and visions the implanted third eye picked up on were not unlike these sakura petals. Aimlessly drifting and settling in a random pattern and order. Leaving the observer to figure out their order and significance.

 

If there is any. Hiei snorted to himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to regain some much needed rest.

 

~*~

 

Rain. Shuuichi heard the lulling patter of rain. Glancing up from his textbooks, he cast a wary glance out his bedroom window, only to see… the moon.

 

There was a sudden howl of wind that did not touch the sakura tree that grew in their back lawn. Shuuichi frowned, rising from his seat to better view the scene out his window. Cautiously, he lifted up the sash of his window only to be filled with a soft, hair-raising, skin-tingling sense of static electricity as though lightning as, or was about to strike nearby. His nose was assaulted by the scents of rain, ozone, and---

 

Salt? Shuuichi's brown eyes widened in shock, there were miles upon miles from the ocean, why could he smell it? Better yet, why was he smelling, hearing, and sensing a freaking storm?

 

The sight below him was of a calm, peaceful night, no signs of the tempest his other senses were telling him was raging. Shuuichi closed his eyes and suddenly he could almost feel the sheets of wind-blown rain as they assaulted the exterior of his home. His nose became filled with the wet, salty air as thunder claps caused his whole world to shudder and tremble from its might. His face felt cool, and clammy from the mist created from errant splattering raindrops and low-lying clouds, and in the distance he heard the waves. Giant, crashing waves.

 

He almost felt the tug of the tides pulling him forward then pushing him back. Shuuichi swayed on his feet as the wind shifted and the heavy sheets of rain began to fall directly into his face, drenching him. The trickling of water as it slid down his face until it dripped from his chin and nose felt real. As did the cold, wet silks of a Yucatan pressed to his chest.

 

Shuuichi breathed in deeply of the salty, tempestuous air of the imaginary monsoon, only to jump at the sound of a rather large slap--- like an open-palmed hand on glass. With a startled gasp, Shuuichi's eyes flew open as the invisible storm instantly dissolved leaving Shuuichi with the fragrant scent of a calm, spring night as a warm breeze wafted in through his opened bedroom window.

 

Shuuichi blinked disconcerted by the rapid change to his senses. It was not unlike waking from a half-remembered dream.

 

Was it a dream? Shuuichi wondered as he gazed out into the serene night, as a gently breeze played through the trees in the family garden, creating a quiet rushing sound among the leaves.

 

It had to have been a dream. Shuuichi concluded, letting out a shaky breath. Just a drea---

 

His thoughts cut off sharply as he noticed a drop of water as it dripped from the window's sash and onto the sill below, followed momentarily by another. Slowly raising his eyes upward, Shuuichi let out a surprised yelp at the wet hand print dripping down the panes of glass in his window.

 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He cursed hoarsely, taking an involuntary step back with each uttered obscenity. Only to start violently and whirl toward his door panting heavily, brown eyes wide.

 

Another soft rap played on his bedroom door, barely audible over the dull roar of his pulse in his ears, as his pulse leapt to his throat. The sound of Shiori's voice pleasantly called to him through the door.

 

“Shuuichi! Telephone!” His step-mother called pleasantly. After a pause with no response from the startled boy she added another. “Shuuichi?”

 

Shuuichi could only watch in mute horror as his bedroom door slowly opened and the dark head of Shiori peeked through the doorway.

 

“Shuuichi?” She called again, in a soft, hesitant tone, then gasped as a hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened as they fell on Shuuichi's pale and shuddering form.

 

“Shuuichi? Are you alright?” His step-mother finally managed after several unsuccessful attempts to speak. “You're soaking wet! What happened?”

 

“I---” Shuuichi unintelligibly muttered as his step-mother rushed forward and began fussing over him, checking for fever and any other potential health threat, before calling out for his father.

 

The world around Shuuichi began to dim, as he felt his limbs go limp. Distantly, he thought. Shock. I'm in shock. As the panicked cries of his step-mother screaming his name barely registered as the world bled into nothingness.

 

~*~

 

Night and the outdoors breathed through the cedar trees. The bit of autumn's first chill going unnoticed as sleep sucked on a weary mind. The crackle of a small fire, and the fragrance of pine blanketing the weary dreamers and soothing them. A balled warmth curled into the sleeper, smelling of forest and warm fur, fox fur, both comforting and familiar.

 

Then the presence of another, a nightly ritual of sorts. Once everyone drifted off into their nightly repose, he'd come. Clawed fingers running reverently and feather-light through inky strands of hair. Breathing deeply of that one particular and favored scent.

 

It was at night, when he was sure that there was no one to bear witness to his moments of tender affection, that he would indulge himself. And just as secretly the recipient cherished and loved these quiet, stolen moments while feigning sleep.

 

Every night he came, and every night he grew a little bolder in his affections. Spooning in softly, his warmth radiating into the back of the object of his affections; his breath sighing out of him as he did the one thing he rarely did--- relax. And with that hidden contentment came with it a sense of belonging.

 

A sense that this was home.

 

~*~

 

Hatanaka Kazuya listened to the resident neurologist droning on as though on autopilot, automatically answering questions on medical history and family history. Had his son been acting strangely before tonight? Had he complained of any illness symptoms, afflictions, hallucinations? Had he taken anything? Drank anything?

 

Hatanaka could only shake his head in negation to all the inquiries made of his son's previous health, behavior, and mental state.

 

Shuuichi had only regained consciousness briefly, and had become highly agitated, thrashing and struggling to get out of the stretcher as the paramedics were wheeling him into the hospital's ER. It had taken six orderlies, along with the two paramedics to restrain the teen while another paramedic could inject Shuuichi with a sedative. The boy now slept in a drugged haze in a private room, wrists and ankles tethered down to the bed in soft, “humane” restraints. To protect himself, as well as others, the doctors and nursing staff had assured.

 

All Kazuya could see was his baby boy tied down to a bed like some crazed animal. All assurances providing little by way of cold comfort.

 

“We'll run a CAT scan to go with the x-rays,” the doctor droned in that light, syrupy tone that physicians seem to maintain in situations like announcing a fatal disease to the patient and loved ones. That mixture of compassion and self-assertive confidence which occasionally slipped on into the realm of arrogance. A tone which Hatanaka found made him want to hurt something, like perhaps, said doctor.

 

“We'd also like to keep Shuuichi-kun at least overnight for observations.” The doctor continued on barely acknowledging the bereaved man before him. “If we can't find anything medical, I've already contacted a psychiatrist to administer a few tests.” Finally deeming it a worthy time to condescend upon Hatanaka a meeting of his gaze, the young resident flashed a polished and impersonal, yet professional smile. “Don't worry, Hatanaka-san. We'll find out what is wrong with you're son.” He affirmed confidently.

 

“I'm sure you will.” Shiori replied graciously, patting her husband's shoulder. “Thank you so much for your time.” She added with a slight bow to the pleased doctor as he dismissed himself from the hospital room.

 

Kazuya turned bleak, brown eyes to his wife. “How could this have happened?” He implored those concerned sorrel eyes that regarded him lovingly.

 

Shiori's delicate brow creased, as she let out a soft, troubled sigh. “I do not know.” She answered, bereft. “There was nothing in either his behavior, nor his countenance to suggest illness.” Was her perplexed response and Hatanaka nodded, turning his gaze to his sleeping son.

 

Messy brown hair lay matted to the youth's forehead from where it had dried. The teenager shifted slightly in his sleep, his breath sighing out of him. Kazuya rose and readjusted the blankets on his son, and smoothed the unruly hair from Shuuichi's brow.

 

“He will get better.” Came a soft and resolute voice from across the darkened room. Kazuya turned back to his wife. “I have faith in that.” She added, her delicate features drawn into lines of fierce determination. An expression that made her look shockingly like her own son.

 

Kazuya couldn't help the soft smile that graced his weary face. If will and determination could heal, then Shiori's would prove incommunicable to all disease. He gave a soft laugh and nodded to his wife.

 

Thy wife's will be done.