InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Changing Lives ❯ The Other Side Of Pain ( Chapter 12 )

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

They all left together, looking like a miniature army. Four girls, two boys, all revenge. Mama almost hummed a revolutionary song as they left, thinking it might have helped edge them on.

After all, was Kagome ever a person to back down? Even before the Well, Mama never knew a time in which Kagome didn't rise to a challenge, and this day, she got one heck of an invite.

~*~ That Night ~*~

A judge sentenced him. A jury convicted him. He, the ring leader, the one who chose what to do, who to kill, whose life to destroy, how they would take away the world's hope piece by piece; it was him that gained a full five consecutive life sentences, doomed without the possibility of probation, destined to die in his own cell from the life he created, because of the lives he dismantled.

This figure knew his name, this now pitiful man who once stroke fear into people with simple looks, this man who now was scared for his life and shouting for the guards who would never hear him. This man who chose to steal, murder and rape; his name was Hisochane Ishi.

And the figure who watched him was his executioner.

~*~ Next Morning ~*~

Inuyasha glanced at Kagome, and Mama couldn't read the look in his eye. He wet his lips and stood up straight, uncrossing his arms. "What did the message say?" he asked.

The officer lifted his chin. " 'He touched her first'."

AE Forty Four

The officers left shortly after, after Inuyasha felt he was being told everything the police were allowed to say. Kagome remained quiet through the entire conversation, while Mama tried her best to make use of her time and make breakfast for her family.

Once the officers were gone, Mama glanced into the living room to find Kagome staring at Inuyasha, who was staring right back.

"What did you do?" Kagome asked, quietly.

Inuyasha blinked. "You can't honestly believe I did that," he replied, gesturing the door.

"Tell me who could've done it, if it wasn't you," Kagome snapped.

He stood up. "I don't know, but I thought you'd be glad the bastard was dead!"

"He was sentenced! Our justice system put him away for his life five times over! To me, he already was dead!"

"Well, now he's dead to everyone else!" Inuyasha snarled.

Kagome gasped and stepped back, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.

What Mama saw then was impossible. There was hurt and distrust in Kagome's eyes, and betrayal in Inuyasha's. Kagome looked away from Inuyasha, and Inuyasha stared at the floor instead of at Kagome. Neither moved for a long moment, and then Kagome walked into the kitchen. Inuyasha went straight for the door.

"Where are you going?" Mama asked him.

"Back home," he replied, but his voice was low and dull. . . almost dead.

And Kagome didn't say a word or make a move to stop him.

~*~ Inuyasha ~*~

He couldn't believe it. Kagome thought he killed the bastard.

Not that he wouldn't have loved to, but he hadn't. And she wouldn't believe him that he didn't. Didn't she know that at this point, he'd do whatever she said, no matter what it was? Even if she didn't ask him with words; he couldn't help it.

He walked out to the well and sat on it. He said he was going home, but in his mind, he already was home. Wherever Kagome was, was his home.

She didn't seem to know that, either.

He didn't understand why she couldn't believe him. He hadn't said a single lie to her in months; she had to know that, at least. But still, she seemed so sure that he was the murderer behind the crime. And since when was killing a killer a murder? Nothing even close to that existed in his time.

His time. Her time. His rules. Her rules. His ideals. Her ideals.

And to think, things used to be simple. Sure, things were easier now, more at peace since Naraku was killed, but with his relationship with Kagome. . . it seemed like the troubles were just beginning. Worst part was how incredibly difficult their troubles were so far.

He realized, as he sat there, that there were still a lot of unanswered questions behind Kagome's story. Mainly why Naraku lived in her story, when they killed him more than three moons ago. Why she stated that she had half the jewel and Naraku had half, when that was never the case. Why she gave herself a tail, as well.

He chuckled. Maybe that made sense to her: half dog demon, dog ears, dog tail. Yet she chose to be a wolf, not a dog. He was sure that she chose a wolf because it was wilder than dogs. Sweet, composed Kagome, a wild half-wolf demon. Heh.

He leaned back on the lip of the well and allowed himself a laugh. It was an appealing thought; he'd give her that. But. . . .

But that still didn't exactly answer the question he asked her so long ago. Why did she choose to be a half demon in her story, to give herself such a background?

And why the fuck did she have to make him seem so helpless, being captured and beaten? Just so she could nurse him back to health again?

He was letting himself get distracted, he knew that, but maybe that was a good idea. If he could distract Kagome from thoughts of Hisochane's death, maybe she would stop thinking of him as the killer?

It was worth a shot. So he stood up and went back inside, finding Kagome's mother still pottering about the kitchen. Kagome was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear water running upstairs.

"She went upstairs for a bath," Mama told him.

He nodded. "I guessed. Hey, Kaa-san," he added, sitting down.

She blushed and smiled at him. "What is it?"

"Do you think I did it?"

He recognized that smile, that sweet, maternal, I'll-always-believe-you smile. It was exactly how his own mother used to smile at him.

"I think you wanted to do it, I think you wish you could have, but no, I don't think you did," she replied.

He dropped his head onto his hands on the table. "So why can't Kagome believe me?"

"Her emotions are confusing her," Mama explained and sat opposite him. "You've always been there to help her, and right now, the help she needs is someone to blame. Why do you think she picked you?"

He looked up at Mama and shook his head.

"She picked you because she hoped you'd accept the blame. Whether or not you didn't do it isn't the issue for her. It's whether or not you'll let her blame you until she gets the answers she needs."

"What answers?"

"Who really did it and why. Deep down, she knows it wasn't you, but you have to admit, a lot of evidence points to you."

"About as much evidence as points to someone else," he pointed out, lifting his head. "I don't have the clothes those guys described, and they said the guy that did it had really short hair." He ended his speech by pointing at his head.

Mama was still smiling at him, and stood up again. "Kagome needs you right now, more than ever," she finished. She turned her back to him and pottered around more.

Inuyasha stared at her back a moment and then looked down. Kagome needed him. He knew that, of course. He saw it in her eyes while they argued. It was obvious; she didn't want to remember those men, not in any form of the word. If it were possible, he'd blank out that part of her memory.

Considering that was out of his ability, he'd have to do something that was in his ability. He got up and started up the stairs.

Kagome told him often that she didn't like it when he stared at her for long periods of time, nor did she let him sit in the bathroom with her while she bathed.

But this day was special, so he stopped outside the bathroom door and knocked.

No answer at first, and then Kagome's voice; "Who is it?"

"Inuyasha."

There was another pause. "What is it, Inuyasha?"

"Can I come in?"

He heard water splash and then Kagome sputtering. "No you can't! You know that's wrong! Inuyasha - !"

He'd already opened the door. Once inside, he shut it, but kept his eyes down so Kagome knew he wasn't looking.

"Inuyasha!" she snapped, her voice incredulous. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting you to talk," he replied quietly. He sat down on the floor, putting his back to the tub.

He could tell she was fuming. He could almost feel it on his back; her rage.

The water splashed again, which resulted in soaking his back with searing water. He flinched.

"Start talking or you get another one," she said, warningly.

He chuckled. "Your mother said you needed me."

"What for?"

"For everything, apparently. She talked in riddles; I'm no good at riddles."

"These days, no one is," Kagome replied with a sigh. "Like math."

He laughed. "Isn't it just like overkill to make math that no one can solve?"

"What?"

"Think about it," he said, leaning back. "If no one was good at math, then why would people still take the classes and finish the work?"

"Because some people are mathematical geniuses; I am not."

"So you were referring to yourself," he realized.

"I was not! No normal kids these days are any good at math!"

"Better than the kids in my time are," he shot back.

She splashed him again, though this time it was aimed at his head. Getting heavily annoyed at his now dripping bangs, wet ears and soaking hair, he turned to see Kagome -

- and found himself staring straight at her chest.

Kagome squealed and then slapped him, which actually did wonders in clearing his mind. Not counting, of course, the moment of stun which left his mind blank and his body frozen.

He turned his back again and cleared his throat. "I think we lost the point."

Kagome started muttering.

He chuckled. "Yes, it was stupid of me to turn around," he agreed.

She humphed and the water sloshed with her movement; Inuyasha could guess that she just crossed her arms and sat back.

"You had a point?" she prompted.

"You need me."

A long, tense moment stretched out between them. And then she said, "Yes, but. . ."

"But what?"

She paused again before she spoke. "I don't need you in here while I bath."

He smirked and couldn't help but tease. "But you need me in here while you piss?"

He got splashed again, which he was expecting and did nothing to dodge the onslaught of water. In fact, he started laughing and found he couldn't stop.

So Kagome splashed him again. "Quit laughing and get out!" she snapped.

He had another idea in mind. He got up, but instead of leaving, he jumped into the tub at Kagome's feet and splashed her back.

Not a moment later and she thrust another wave at him, which he happily returned. Eventually the two of them were splashing each other furiously and sitting up, making large puddles on the floor and laughing.

It was great fun.

~*~ Detective Motsumoto ~*~

He had the tape in his hand. The tape that recorded what happened to Hisochane, from outside the cell. In his other hand, the blanked-out tape from inside, which recorded every sound - every scream.

He actually felt sorry for the murderer. Being slaughtered in his own cell like he was. Whoever or whatever killed him obviously wasn't finished yet, judging by the carving in the wall.

Hisochane's body was almost literally in pieces when they found him. The expert killer had left nerves connected, damaging only the muscles in Hisochane's body, so he could feel everything the killer did to him, without being able to fight back. It was brutal and inhuman, but most of the media deemed it fitting of Hisochane's life.

They wouldn't think so if they saw this tape, if they played the two of them together so they could hear what was happening to Hisochane as well. The tapes had already been duplicated, and the duplicates were being recorded in time together onto a fifth tape.

. . .But these would never hit the media. It was too horrible. Motsumoto himself had an iron-clad stomach and couldn't bear to watch the whole thing straight. He had to stop it a dozen times and calm himself the first time he played it. All that blood, the way Hisochane screamed, how the killer literally ripped pieces of his flesh off and tossed it elsewhere - it was just too disturbing.

Motsumoto was actually the only one in the precinct who didn't vomit when he saw it.

His hands were shaking again.

He set the tapes down on his desk and swept back his hair, kept slightly long because his fiance liked playing with it. It tied it at the base of his neck and sat in his chair, propped his feet up and placed his keyboard on his lap.

He wasn't done writing up his report yet.

The next few hours were thankfully numb, punctuated only by the tapping of his keyboard and the occasional sigh as he thought about what to write.

"Suspect knew what he was doing. Hisochane's body was mangled so he could not move or fight back, but could feel pain. Suspect wanted to cause him pain before death. Possibly suspect practiced or planned the attack for months. Suspect has not finished yet. Note 'He touched her first' found on the wall, carved in seemingly by sharpened tips on his gloves.

"Too dark to get positive details. Suspect possibly has platinum blonde or white hair, possibly dyed. Eyes seemingly light in color. Possible suspect is Albino. Of average height, slim build.

"Questions: How did he enter the penitentiary? How did he know where the cameras were? Camera shows suspect 'appearing' on the railing. How did he get up there without taking the stairs? How did he leave nothing behind?

"CSI confirms: no threads, no hair, no blood, no skin remains that was not Hisochane's or a guard's. Until suspect strikes next, identity remains unknown.

"Strap up, boys. We're going to be taking lots of long nights to figure this one out."

Finished, Motsumoto reread the entire report and printed it out. Copies of the report were given to each of his underlings and his superior, to be studied. He himself read the report a few more times, looking for anything he could have missed, any detail that should be standing out.

. . . Nothing.

It was times like this he cursed being a street detective, especially since he used to be a psychiatrist before he chose a faster-paced life.

This suspect was going to be difficult.

~*~ The Killer ~*~

A lot of people thought he wasn't done yet. They were right. A lot of people thought he was human. They were wrong. A lot of people thought he'd been overly brutal. That was up for debate. In his mind, Hisochane got what he deserved, not just for him - for what Hisochane did to his woman and unborn daughter - but for everyone Hisochane ever hurt.

He got exactly what he deserved.

He was sitting in a widowsill, several stories high, overlooking a peaceful outstretch of plains. A few trees dotted along the view, and the length of land dropped into the Pacific Ocean by way of a stout cliff, perhaps a dozen feet above the tides. The sun was low, a few hours before dusk, and coupled with a light, cold breeze, it gave everything a dull feel of unreality.

He loved days like this. Everything about him seemed to calm. He could pretend at times like this, pretend that the cold breeze was no breeze, but the spirits of his wife and daughter come to see him.

He closed his eyes and savored the strong breeze which followed his thoughts, as though trying to prove that their spirits were present, were trying to sooth him and his rage. . . and his everlasting pain.

The door to his room opened and a tall figure stepped in. He didn't bother to turn around; he knew who was there.

"Welcome back, Sesshomaru," he said. "I hope you enjoyed your trip."

"I would have," the smooth voice of Sesshomaru returned, "if you hadn't caused such a stirring in my wake."

"Even in modern times you can't use modern words."

"My lawyers fought hard for her," Sesshomaru swept on, ignoring his statement. "For everyone Hisochane and his men hurt. He was given five life sentences, yet still you couldn't let it go."

"Would you have? If it was your wife, your unborn daughter. . ." he paused, his voice cracked, and a tear slipped out of his eye. "If it was them Hisochane killed. . . if you had waited all this time to get your revenge. . . would you have let it go?"

Sesshomaru didn't reply to that, and He silently tallied it in his mind. A long stretch of silence spread out between the two of them, where neither moved. And then Sesshomaru broke the silence with more statements.

"You have a chair."

He chuckled. "I like squating; what's wrong with that?" he asked. True to his words, he was squating in the windowsill.

"Your room seems as bare as when I left. Will you ever fill it?"

"With what?"

Another pause. He tallied another point on his side.

"You did not have to steal those clothes," Sesshomaru continued.

"Yes I did."

"You did not. I told you -"

"That I could have anything as long as you owned it, in whole or in part," he finished. "Considering you owned that store, I technically didn't steal it."

"But you made it seem as though you did."

"Had to pretend to be someone," he shrugged. "Someone poor. It makes the cops run around in circles."

"Chasing their tails," Sesshomaru finished for him. "But I had to fake an investigation because of it. If I had brushed it off and paid for the items -"

"They would have gotten suspicious. It really bites when I get you in a corner, doesn't it? Now you know how it feels."

Another pause. "I have given you shelter, food and clothing for centuries. What have you given me?"

He dropped his chin. "No complaints, no fights, no harsh words. . . ."

He felt Sesshomaru beside him suddenly, and a part of him wanted to lean into the strong aura, let it wash over him and believe, if only for a moment, that he would always protect him. He missed that feeling.

But he dropped his chin further. "And I helped you build this empire you own. . . without asking for any of it," he finished.

He felt, rather than saw, Sesshomaru lift his hand, and a moment later that hand was on his back. In a strange way, it was comforting.

"I remember," Sesshomaru said. And then he started towards the door again.

"I have a question," He said, lifting his chin again. He turned and dropped a foot off the sill to half-stand.

Sesshomaru turned back to him.

"How did you know I killed Hisochane?"

"Jaken told me," Sesshomaru replied.

He laughed. "I'm surprised you let that toad live all this time."

Glancing half towards the door, Sesshomaru added, "So am I."

He let Sesshomaru go then, without another word. As he turned back to his window, though, he saw his reflection in a mirror on the far wall. Such a sparse bedroom; hardly anything in it at all, not even a bed.

The man he saw in the mirror wasn't himself, and he knew it. Those short locks, empty golden eyes, a dried tear along his cheek. . . She would laugh at him.

She'd wipe the tear away and tease him about letting his emotions show in such a way. She'd flick his nose, tickle his ears, put a finger on his lips when he tried to kiss her until he was smiling and laughing again. Then she would take his hands and place them on her womb to feel their daughter move.

As always when he thought of this, he found himself smiling through the searing pain in his heart, unable to see from the blur of tears in his eyes. He gave a laugh at the irony and squatted in his window again. Thoughts of her were always so pleasant, but the pain tore at him like a thousand of Sesshomaru's poison claws. And the pain worsened as the memories faded. . .

Though he could still close his eyes, ignore the tears, and see her face before him, he was losing the sensations. The feel of her in his arms, the sound of her voice as she cooed at her womb, the taste of her lips when he kissed her. . . the sight of her sleeping next to him, soundly asleep, smiling faintly in pleasant dreams.

Her eyes were so beautifully brown and deep, her hair so like ebony silk, her skin rivaled rose petals in its softness. . .

But every time he thought of her, of her smile and her kisses and her laugh, it would always end. . . in pain.

He shuddered, trying to stave off the memory, that memory, as new tears streaked their trails down his cheeks. Don't remember, he thought. Don't don't don't. . . don't remember. . . don't think of . . . of it. . . No!

He could see it again. Her body, covered in her own blood, her eyes dead but still wide with fear. . . And post-mortem, she had given birth to their daughter, but her body as well was dead. . . long dead. The both of them. And a note, laying atop her breasts, stating that this would happen to anyone who dared to try and fight him. . . from Hisochane.

"No! Stop thinking!" he yelled. "Stop it!"

He fell back, clutching his head as though it could help. He couldn't feel the floor beneath him, couldn't feel the way he tore at his hair; there was too much real pain to notice. His eyes stung with the salt from his tears, and he gave a sob as he rolled onto his side and curled up. He screamed, but it was more of frustration than anything else. He couldn't forget, couldn't stop the memory, couldn't end his pain or halt the tears. He slammed his fist into the floor in anger it left a large dent.

Though his senses told him someone was there now, he couldn't ignore the pain long enough to find out who. He didn't care about the presence, anyway.

He killed Hisochane, made him suffer to his last breath, and yet, the memory hurt just as much as it always has. He felt his head snap to the side and knew someone slapped him, but he hadn't felt the hand. That presence was yelling at him, in more than one way, but in his mind he could still see the dead bodies of his wife and child, and could still hear his own screams of terror and injustice.

And then his eyes opened and he saw himself looking up at Sesshomaru.

The pain numbed, he felt himself begin to calm. He glanced around him as Sesshomaru stood, and saw a young demon holding his arm down. The woman next to the demon had a syringe in her hand, empty. Another shot.

These days, it was the only thing that could relax him, at times make him forget. He shuddered as the liquid melded with his blood and sat up. Sesshomaru dismissed the demon and the nurse, who left, but Sesshomaru stayed and leaned against the wall between two windows. He got up and sat in the window, facing Sesshomaru, and crossed his arms.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Sesshomaru was staring at him again, that unwavering, I-know-all stare. "You must cease thinking of her."

"It's not that easy."

"I believe it is."

"Tell you what," he snapped, annoyed. "You fall in love with a woman who you could swear is perfect and get her pregnant. A month before she's due, let her be murdered. Just let it happen. Her and the baby. When you hear her scream and come running only to find and the baby already dead, you can tell me if it's easy to stop thinking about her!"

"Thoughts of her only make you snap!" Sesshomaru argued, raising his voice in a rare moment of rage. "We cannot continue to give you shots like we've been every day, at times more than once!"

"It's not that easy!"

"Then perhaps we must make you forget her entirely."

"NO!" he yelled, standing. "You will never do such a thing; you hear me! You can't threaten me like -"

"That was not a threat," Sesshomaru argued. "It was a suggestion. Perhaps if you forgot about her -"

"How dare you suggest that," he snarled. "I've already lost her; I'm not risking losing memories of her! They're already fading as it is; let me cling to them!"

Sesshomaru's stare became all-knowing again. An infinite amount of patience was intertwined with that gaze. He stood up fully and turned to Him. "Cling."

He looked away. It wasn't exactly the best thing to say, but it was true. He clung to those memories the same way he clung to the memories of his mother. Weighing one against the other, he found he spent more time with his mother than with his wife. . . and that knowledge burned him.

"It seems the only way for us to resolve this," Sesshomaru was saying, "is if you learn to block out their deaths. If you cannot. . ."

"Then I'll leave and you'll never have to worry about my breakdowns again."

Sesshomaru nodded and left him alone again.

Alone. . . .

He hated being alone.

He hopped up onto the windowsill again and stood there overlooking the view. From this view, he could see the ocean, and the way it sparkled reminded him of her eyes when she cried tears of joy. The sun was lower now, almost fallen into the ocean. His mind must have drifted longer than he thought. Wiping his cheeks, he steeled himself.

Day two: criminal two. He had work to do as soon as that sun set. Sesshomaru being here would make it more difficult, but not impossible.

As the sun finally fell the entire way, he turned from the window and went downstairs. He ate only because it gave him the energy he needed. And then he took a trip to the second floor: Sesshomaru's study. There was a computer in there which held everything of importance to Sesshomaru and/or his companies. He went inside and flicked it on.

Built with three times the memory capacity, it was a tome of knowledge - as long as you knew the passwords. He did.

He clicked, typed and scrolled, and found what he was looking for. The location of the second man on his list: Yashutino Kei.

Sticking his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a folded slip of paper and opened it. In a way, there was a list on it. The first statement on it, he'd already used. It read, "He touched her first." The second one. . . he was going to use tonight, when the timing was right.

A creak from upstairs startled him out of his thoughts. He stuffed the paper back into his pocket and closed all programs on the computer before turning it off. He left out the side window and climbed up the wall to his window and entered. There was just one more thing he had to get before he could go. . . He opened his wardrobe and pulled out a drawer, setting it on the floor. In the very back there was a loose pane of wood, which he pried out.

He pulled out what was hidden behind it: a soft pack, filled with sets of ofudas, kept from the time when ofudas could be used for everything. He took out a set and put it in his inner coat pocket. Having gotten what he needed, he put the rest back and returned the drawer to its place.

"Going out to kill another."

He wasn't surprised at hearing that familiar voice, in its usual tone. He stood up and faced Sesshomaru for the third time this day.

"I'm not finished yet."

They stared at one another for a long moment. And then Sesshomaru spoke again, "They will never leave their cells."

"No, they won't," he agreed.

Sesshomaru's chin lifted slightly. "They have been sentenced, labeled, and damned."

"Yes, they have."

"What do you intend to achieve, then?"

He glanced at his window. "To cause them the pain they caused countless others."

"And then to murder them."

"You can't murder a murderer," he argued quietly. "You execute murderers."

Another long moment passed in which both of them gathered their thoughts and stared the other down.

"Do not think I intend to stop you," Sesshomaru said at last.

"Then what are you here for?"

"To warn you. I have done my duty today by warning you, by being your good sense. The rest is to you."

He smirked. "By letting me go, you're almost condoning what I'm going to do. You sure you want that guilt?"

Sesshomaru turned away, but replied. "Perhaps I do not see it as 'guilt'."

"So what would you call it?"

Sesshomaru didn't answer that at first. He stepped outside the room and shut the door. But as He began to climb out the window, he heard Sesshomaru's voice say one word: justice.

:End Chapter:

Oy. :Falls over: This one took a long time, didn't it? I bet all you have more guesses about who done it now, huh? Some of you may even be right.

Till next chapter, I have a gift for you all.

:Whips out a whip: Always wanted to use one of these things. . . Mwa ha!

:Whips Naraku: This is what he gets for trying to turn the tables on me. Heh.

Naraku: YEOW! Someone. . . :Tears in eyes: . . . .save. . . . :Starts crying: MEEEEEEEEEEE!

:Whip whip, crack: Oh yeah, one last thing. . . Review or you shall be like NARAKU! Chained and leashed, forced to feel my WRATH! MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

See ya! :Blows a kiss, then snaps the whip: