InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Changing Lives ❯ A Deal Made ( Chapter 23 )

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

Changing Lives

Fifty Four

They spent almost a week in Inuyasha’s time, hunting shards tirelessly. Considering the huge amount of energy they were used to expelling, versus the lack of anything useful to do for a long time, Kagome was sure they all could have gone without sleep that whole week, and still have accomplished everything they had.

Kagome had tried something new in locating the shards: strengthening all her powers as much as she could, then spreading her awareness out in every direction, as far as it would go. With a makeshift map of the area next to her, she marked all the pleaces she’s felt a shard – almost a dozen in a three mile radius. Then they went off and began finding them, taking the shards if they could without having to kill, per Kagome’s request.

A whole lot of demons looked at her funny for sparing them, and she gave them no reply except for a, “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” She got an odd feeling from most of them afterwards, like they saw humans – or perhaps just her – in a whole new light.

One of them followed her all the way back to the village. A tiny girl to be sure, who could change herself into a Kirara-sized puppy that was almost as adorable as Inuyasha’s ears. She’d found the shard by chance, but she hadn’t used it; she’d been holding onto it because she didn’t know what to do with it.

Her name was Kyou and she wasn’t about to leave anytime soon, perhaps because she found Shippou to be the singularly most handsome boy her size. She hadn’t said that in exact words, but she kept blushing every time she got near and mumbled, poking her fingertips together shyly.

She had black hair with a silver stripe, almost falling to her ankles, and mixed eyes: one strikingly blue, one dark brown. She was no bigger than Shippou was, but that made them all the more cute in Kagome’s eyes.

She teased Shippou a few times, lightly, and every single time he blushed as well, and Inuyasha cackled every time he caught her doing it.

Then later, when they went to bathe, there was a huge amount of red skin before anyone had gotten in. Kyou had come with them, being female, but she hadn’t expected Shippou to come along. Shippou told her that it was better to be with Sango and Kagome than Inuyasha and Miroku, because neither woman would ever punch him in the head, but the two of them had undressed on opposite sides of the onsen and gotten in without looking up.

Kyou stayed more near Sango, and Shippou stayed almost hidden beside Kagome. Though neither woman made any teasing jabs, they exchanged humourous glances every few minutes and gestured the two pups.

Cute as she was, Kagome had to wonder where her parents were – if she had them. So she asked Kyou, but she wasn’t prepared for the answer.

Kyou had said, “My parents are both dead. They were different breeds, which is only okay to both their packs as long as they didn’t have pups. Shortly after I was born, both packs came together to kill them. They ran, but only it so far for so long.” She pulled a fan from her obi, an adult-sized, elegant fan that was almost as tall as she was. “This was mother’s, and her favorite. She made sure to hide it where I would know to find it. You can see that I’m a mutt fro my eyes, so it was always difficult to live, hiding from hole to hole. . .” Then she smiled. “Then I found the shard, and you found me.”

Kagome was both saddened by Kyou’s story, finding that Inuyasha’s prejudice at being different was for more common than she’d realized, and touched by Kyou’s assurity that her life was looking up, just by being found by their little group – and accepted, as well.

So Kagome gave in and hugged Kyou close, and her absolutely sang when Kyou hugged back, snuggling into her. Being viewed by everyone in their group invoked more than a few coos at how cute the scene was, and later on, Inuyasha had commented on how ‘at home’ she seemed around children.

Whin in turn made her blush.

At the end of the week, when Kagome headed back to her own time, Inuyasha had remained behind, saying he would catch up in a day. He didn’t tell her why, but his eyes said that she was going to like it. So she’d left easily enough, even as she was leaving her big, cuddly, sweet security blanket five centuries in the past

Not half a day into her return, and she was visited by none other than Sesshomaru. Upon being in his presence, she was reminded again that he seemed entirely different from his younger self. There was no tension of fear running through her when she saw him, no feeling of inferiority when he was near. And he himself looked and sounded much more relaxed.

“Kagome,” he greeted with a nob.

Kagome made a little bow in return. “Uh, hello, Sesshomaru-sama. I’m a little surprised that you’re back.”

“You don’t have to refer to me so formally,” he replied off-handedly. Continuing, he took a seat and jumped right in. “I want you to speak to Inuyasha.”

She wasn’t sure exactly how, but she knew which one he was referring to – probably from sheer logic. Nodding, she said, “Why?”

For a moment, he looked like he wasn’t sure how to explain. He wet his lips before going on. “You should know by now how unstable he is. He’s had five centuries to waste away, and now I believe he’s not going to actively work on staving alive anymore. He believes that because you’re safe, he can die.”

Funny how badly that frightened her, when she knew that he and her Inuyasha were different, but honestly she couldn’t help but love both. She didn’t know the elder one very well, really, with how opposite they appeared to be, yet she felt as though she would be greatly hurt if she learned he’d died.

And so she said, “What do you need me to do?”

~*~ Mansion ~*~

Inuyasha had been berated several times over the past week, and slapped a few times like it would help. Not for the first time, Sesshomaru looked almost tortured at the thought of someone from his family dying. In the end, Inuyasha was nearly closer to Sesshomaru than anyone else, even his demon wife who had reminded him how to love. Because, of them all, Inuyasha had been there the longest; Inuyasha had helped without question of return more than anyone else; and Inuyasha had taught him – indirectly – that blood brothers were closer than you’d think, even if it was just half-blood.

But what else could he do? Inuyasha had no reason left to be alive. Kagome was going to live on, and their daughter, no matter what. He’d done his part, focused on living for five centuries beyond what he’d wanted.

He rarely got dressed these days, never left his room of his own choice – minus the day he greeted Mostumoto into their odd organization, being that he’d given Motsumoto the card, he’d been required to stay long enough to welcome the officer.

Just laying there, face-down today, did little more than give him carpet stains and patterns on his skin. They were interesting decorations in his opinion, for as long as they lasted. His mind drifted more than usual now that he accepted his coming death, floating over past memories from a time that seemed so much simpler, where your life was what you made it, where friends never betrayed you, where family was such a close-knit bond of blood and friends, that no one could sever it, and vengeance lasted as long as the person who wronged you and not a second more.

Mostly, his thoughts lingered on his Kagome, and though these memories brought the never-ending pain of her death, he was soothed knowing he would see her very soon. There were times in the past, he was sure, when he’d literally felt her presence, but at the time he was so distraught that he couldn’t tell if it was her spirit comforting him or his own delusions.

After so long, he knew when she was around, knew when she was trying to push him on or hold him back. At times, he could almost smell her again. . . like now. . .

His eyes snapped open. That’s not a delusion. She’s here? He started to sit up, brushed certain parts of his anatomy on the rough carpet, and remembered his nudity. Scrambling, he grabbed a pair of pants from out of his wardrobe and stuffed his legs inside. He spun and headed for the door at almost the same time that it opened.

Knowing who was behind that door didn’t stop him from being completely stunned by it.

“Hello,” Kagome greeted him. He didn’t miss her quick glance at his still-nude chest and the light blush that touched her cheeks from it. He was a little surprised, however, that she smiled not a second later.

With his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his jaw muscles frozen in place, he couldn’t say a word, but neither could he think of anything to say.

After a long pause, Kagome looked up again and cleared her throat, then looked around the room. It was an uncomfortable silence, perhaps made the worse by Inuyasha’s inability to move even the slightest bit. As he watched her, she scratched at her ear and gazed over at him.

“I. . .That is. . . Are you going to say anything?” she blurted out.

“Good to see you,” he managed automatically. “Do you want some tea?” He mentally swore. “I don’t have any tea. Wait, I have maids. Kagome –”

She was giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, though he felt himself chuckling too.

“You are,” she laughed. Stepping into the room, she shut the door behind her.

Inuyasha’s mood immediately soured. He frowned. “That’s not a good idea,” he warned her.

“And why is that?” she asked, sounding confused though her eyes didn’t show it.

“I might. . . go off the handle,” he tried. “Then you could get hurt, or. . . I don’t want to say it,” he mumbled, looking away, at that patch of carpet he’d found some days ago.

“Afraid of raping me, Inuyasha?”

He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. He couldn’t envision ever hurting her or scaring her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of it. “Let’s not find out,” he said, roughly. Turning from her, he went to his window and stared out.

It was open. It was always open. He never closed his window. A cool breeze flowed in the moment he stood there, an invisible hand brushing his shoulder. He tried to find something of interest out there to look at. Not much beyond the grounds, really.

“You shouldn’t be,” Kagome said now, her voice much nearer to him. He knew she’d moved closer. When she was around, he always knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. Five centuries of parting hadn’t dimmed that even a scratch.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me,” he told her. His emotions were confusing him again. Soothing; it was soothing, knowing he was going to die, but it was so much more for her to be around him. At the same time, it couldn’t hurt worse; this wasn’t his Kagome, he had no claim over her in the least. Yet she was here, she was close, she smelled good, and she still loved him.

Her eyes told him that the moment the door opened.

“I’m not scared,” she replied, moving to sit on the window sill. What was she doing? Didn’t she know the temptation rose when he could see her?

He turned away. “You really don’t get it,” he bit out.

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. She wanted to know, did she? An odd, unwanted anger rose in him. What do you know? his mind snapped. He turned towards her again. She hadn’t slipped off the sill yet. “You don’t know,” he started, beating the anger down. She was ignorant. Ignorance requires teaching. He had to teach her why. “My Kagome was a little bit different from you. Because she was older, grown-up. You don’t know what it was like for me, having someone who loved me like she did – like she does – and knowing she was willing to share everything with me, including her body.”

“Oh,” Kagome said. “But that’s not all of it, was it?”

He looked away, sharply, and didn’t know why he was still talking. “I always had to hold back, you know. Whenever we made love. I could never let go of myself; it would have hurt her, if not killed her. After all this time, of nothing, when before I had her almost literally whenever I asked. . . it’s like petting a puppy until it’s satisfied every day until it became a big dog, then replacing all the pets with beatings. It’ll crave those pets so much, it’ll be driven mad, and end up biting the one who used to pet it, even if that person wasn’t the one who beat it.”

Why couldn’t he look up now? Maybe he was afraid of the way she was looking at him, the way she might look at him. . . was she even looking at him? He didn’t want to check. At least she was still on the sill.

“. . .Oh.” She took a deep breath. “Inuyasha, that aside, I’m here because. . .” she trailed off.

He knew why she was here. “It couldn’t have been for sex,” he bit out. “You have an untrained puppy for that.”

She gasped. He kicked himself.

Looking up, he saw the shock in her face and eyes, and wanted to tear himself apart. That wasn’t the smartest thing to say. “I’m sorry. Sesshomaru sent you. He does that.”

“He asked me to come, yes,” she replied, shaking her head. “But he wanted me to convince you to live until your last days. I have another request. . .”

He turned his back to her and sat down. He hoped she got the idea. He didn’t want to open his mouth and say something he’d regret again, so he kept silent. Maybe she would take the hint and leave. She always knew how to read him, after all.

He heard her move. He heard her come closer. He hoped she was heading for the door. But she stopped behind him and he grit his teeth. Don’t touch me, he mentally begged. I don’t know what I’d do.

Her hands touched his shoulders. Pain exploded in his chest, followed by an odd comfort and latent desire. Dammit, why she couldn’t she just go before he hurt her?!

“I want you to stick around for another three years, Inuyasha. Just that.”

He exhaled roughly. “I won’t last another month.”

“Three years, so you. . . so. . .” She took a deep breath. “You said we were going to have a baby. I’m going to get pregnant.”

His breath stopped. Yes, so that was true. He wished really hard right then that she wasn’t going to say what he thought she was going to say.

“I know from how you said it, that it really hurt you that you never got to see the baby girl alive.”

Dear kami-sama, she wasn’t going to say it. . . !

“Will you stay just long enough to see her born, and to hold her?”

That was it. He sobbed hard, dropping his face into his hands. Was Kagome really this devious? Playing on his dead child’s life like that, dangling her in front of him like a treat? He leaned over and felt Kagome try to wrap herself around him as best she could. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he couldn’t; he was gasping and sobbing too much.

His daughter. Three years, if that. Three years to see his baby girl, to hear her breath, know her scent, to feel her weight in his arms. Kagome was babbling some useless words of comfort to him, but for once he couldn’t hear her. His mind had inverted, almost collapsed, really.
Finally, he found his voice and calmed his breathing enough to gasp out, “Don’t you dare use her as leverage!”

Kagome caught her breath beside him. She replied in a shaky voice, “I thought you’d want that before you died. . . Was I wrong to hope for you?”

There was that sweet Kagome he remembered. She was putting him before her. The baby girl would probably be immensely confused at her father’s scent compared to his own, yet still, Kagome was willing to let him see her. . . alive.

Before he saw her dead.

Kagome knew she hit his soft spot before she’d even said the words, he was sure. Even so, he couldn’t turn his back on her offer. However, her scent was awakening parts of him that had remained asleep – almost dead – for five hundred years. If she didn’t leave soon. . . Hell, with how old Sesshomaru was getting, not even he would likely get here fast enough to stop him.

Catching his breath and controlling himself as best he could, he sat up and looked at Kagome. “Three years,” he told her.

Kagome’s face split into the brightest smile he’d ever seen, and it shone in his mind like a sun. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His body just about moved by itself, but he contented himself with holding her close.

This time, he cried silent tears, swallowing a lump in his throat. Kagome’s breath was tickling the hair at the back of his neck as she laughed, and it was just as arousing as it was painful. Not my Kagome, he reminded himself, repeatedly. She’s not mine. She’s his. Not mine.

“Thank you,” she said, drawing back.

With her eyes shining like they were, she looked as young as she was again – something he had nearly forgotten she could do. This Kagome was no adult, neither in body nor spirit, and that alone kept him from kissing her. He would love to kiss her again, but no, he needed permission for that.

It seemed Kagome was making her own permission, because she kissed him, her lips as warm as he remembered as she pressed them to his own. Beginning to lose his control from this, he blinked, and focused on the tear that he felt slide down his cheek. By the time it reached his chin, she had drawn back from him.

“I hope,” she was saying, “that this won’t be the last time I see you before her birth.”

“Okay,” was the only thing he could say. He was staring so intensely into her eyes that when she got up at left, his eyes hadn’t changed direction. A few moments later, his lip began trembling and his eyes filled again.

Her scent was everywhere in his room now.

. . .Would it last three years?

:End Chapter:

I’m so incredibly disappointed right now.

Maybe you guys don’t understand why I started that contest, and maybe a whole bunch more don’t stick around to read the end notes I leave, or my note chapters. So maybe I’ll explain.

There was a hidden agenda behind that contest.

Put simply, every contest ever created was based on ideas and creativity. The contestants had to try and be smarter than the rest, usually more colorful, and try to make the best win they could. This even counts for sports contests, if you think about it like I do.

When I started the contest, it wasn’t because I was trying to gloat. I know Transformations has lots of fans. I know Changing Lives has lots as well. I know New Age likely has more than both. I don’t need a contest to prove that.

I added the contest to try and see how many of YOU are creative as well.

I know I’m creative. I’m resourceful. I’m clever. I keep trying. My dream of drawing for the rest of my life, animating, making comics, and writing; I’ve been following it so long there’s little else I know how to do anymore. Been going on for almost a full decade.

I try to incorporate all the creativity I can in everything I do. This fic, the one before it, all the twists, all my fics together, all of my artwork; I think so hard before I make them to try and make them perfect.

‘Perfect’ doesn’t just satisfy ME. If that was true, I wouldn’t write or draw at all. I wouldn’t need to, with my imagination.

‘Perfect’ is meant to satisfy YOU.

‘Perfect’ is meant to inspire YOU.

‘Perfect’ is meant to make YOU as creative as I am.

It saddens me, you know. I get emails pretty often from people who are in love with my fics. Although I rarely, if ever, make mistakes in my chapters, the emails I get are from people who disregard my attention to detail and half-spell the things they say.

Maybe I’m too much of a perfectionist, but think of this way. . .

You’ve just won a contest for being the best of the best. And a person comes up to you, who has seen or listened to or watched your greatest achievement, and they say how much they loved it and admire you.

Now imagine they try to do what you did, and fail so miserably that you can’t stand to watch anymore.

That failing was a lack of effort, a lack of will, despite how much they admired what you do.

Now imagine you had dozens of these fans, and only a select few put forth the effort to try to not offend you. That effort would make you smile, right? Someone is trying, for your sake, because they truly like what you do.

Don’t talk to me in leet. For one, I can’t read it worth a damn. For two, when I do read it, it sounds in my head like a retarded child with no teeth and half a tongue trying to say a tongue twister while gargling. For three, it’s depressing.

I talk to you like this, don’t I? Everyone who’s emailed me can vouch for me. I almost never typo, and never use leet or abbreviations for words that shouldn’t be abbreviated. I shall give you an example. . .

Me: “It’s good to hear from you. Been a while now, hasn’t it? How have you been?”

Me if I spoke like most of my fans: “its good to here from u bean a whil, hasnt it, howve you bean”

So sad, so heartbreaking. This isn’t just laziness shown here. This is murder of the English language. It’s like trying to talk to someone who doesn’t even know full English, but on their behalf, they started out knowing a different language.

Which brings me to another point that bothers me. All the immigrants around here who seem to refuse to learn the language of our country. (USA, that is.)

I’m not complaining about there being immigrants, mind you. It just seems really rude and disrespectful to move to another country with every intention of staying there your entire life, and never learning the language therein.

I wouldn’t go to Italy, meaning to spend the rest of my life there, and not put forth the effort to learn their language. Same damn thing if I chose to move to an Indian Reservation. I would learn their fuggin’ language!

(Bear in mind that I write as I would speak, therefore, slangs are okay.)
But seriously, back on the contest, let me tell you how many entrees I got. Take a guess first, will you? What number did you come up with?

Twenty?

Thirty?

Maybe fifty?

. . .Way too high. Bring it down.

Ten?

Not even.

I got a grand total of four.

Three pictures and a fic. You had three months, all of you. Three whole months to do something, and most of you did nothing.

There are three contestants, therefore, three winners. They won’t be announced here, however, I can tell you what the top prize was: a cameo.

Don’t understand? That’s your own fault for not entering.

If you need me, I’ll be in the corner, rocking back and forth, hugging my knees, and if I stop moving or fall over, don’t worry; I’ve just cried myself to sleep.

Mankind is doomed. But don’t worry. I’ll still be writing and drawing.

. . .Maybe.