InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Every Heart ❯ Chapter 11

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

Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media. This is merely one girl’s dream of life after “The End.”


It’s nice to be travelling again, Miroku thought to himself. He gripped his staff with both hands and closed his eyes for a moment. The breeze was nice, crisp and cool with the bite of autumn. Plus, he had to admit he was very much enjoying being so close to Sango again. All that purification during their time at Mushin’s temple had been almost too much for him to handle. She was his fiancée, dammit, and he wanted to touch her. There was nothing wrong with that!

Not that he’d gotten much hand-to-flesh time in since their departure. Sango had been on edge ever since Mushin told her about sending the mysterious boy to her village. She had wanted to leave that very evening; only his complete inability to move stopped her. It had taken him a week to recover from the surgery on his hand, and he thought Sango was going to go insane in the meantime.

Now they were finally alone, and away from the holy grounds of the temple, but still there were complications. His right hand was still heavily bandaged; he couldn’t cop a feel with it even if he wanted to. And then there was the whole matter of this strange bag she carried. The small brown pack lay squarely on her back, and it was fairly bursting with all the items she’d fashioned during their time at the temple. Not only did it block premium access to her backside, but it meant he was stuck carrying Hiraikotsu. Sango’s weapon was incredibly heavy, and the strap dug painfully into his shoulder.

He smiled and opened his eyes again. He’d withstand all this pain and more for her, though. Her excitement was contagious; he felt his own heart speed up as they drew closer and closer to the village of the demon slayers. He loosed his grip on his staff as Sango leaned forward to whisper something in Kirara’s ear. The cat purred in response and began to descend.

“Sango, don’t be too hasty,” he warned as they landed with a soft thump.

She turned and smiled at him, happiness radiating from her. She’d never been more beautiful to him. “Don’t be silly, Miroku,” she replied, sliding from Kirara’s back. “Nothing could ruin this moment for me.” Compulsively, she grabbed his left hand and began to run towards the walls of the village.

She halted suddenly as she entered the gates. He slanted a look at her from the corner of his eye. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. It was the first time they’d been back since burying her family and friends here, so he understood her apprehension.

“That was my house,” she said, her voice strangely hollow. She pointed to the largest hut near the center of the village, her smile slipping from her face.

“Take your time,” Miroku said, bringing his arm around her shoulder and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Sango nodded and stepped forward. She pushed the front door flap aside and entered the house, taking another deep breath as she did so. “It’s so strange to be back here,” she said softly.

Miroku didn’t feel compelled to reply; he was content to let her move at her own pace and follow in her shadow. She crossed the room as if in a daze, as if she didn’t register anything except the connecting doorway to the back room of the hut. Silently they crossed that threshold.

Sango suddenly stopped and fell to her knees. “Someone’s been here,” she breathed, touching the discarded blankets near a pallet on the floor.

“And recently, it appears,” Miroku mused. His eyes lifted up and cast a glance at the side wall. There was another doorway there, the cover wafting gently with the breeze. “That leads outside?”

Sango followed his gaze. “Yes, out to the porch.” She stood and walked over to it, still in her strange trance. She peered out for a moment, then pushed the covering aside completely and bolted outside.

“Sango?” Miroku asked, following her. She stood right outside the door, gripping the railing of the porch until her knuckles were white. “Is everything okay?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Kohaku,” she choked out. “Somehow, he knew.”

Miroku looked out to the small field behind the hut. It was a training ground of some sort, with a ring of wooden spikes stuck in the earth. A figure was in the middle of the circle, throwing a weapon in a consistent pattern. He appeared to be aiming at rocks that had been placed atop the flat surface of the spikes. His back was to them, but even Miroku recognized him from such an angle.

The little boy, once lost, was now found.

Sango burst onto the patch of grass, her arms opening in an ever-growing embrace as she approached the boy from behind. “Kohaku!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Let me go!” the boy cried, pushing away the unfamiliar and unexpected arms. He whipped around, raising his weapon. Miroku was off like a shot when he saw it glinting high in the air.

The boy was breathing harshly as he stared at them. “Who are you? Why are you here?” he commanded.

“Do you not recognize me, Kohaku?” Sango asked. She did not raise her arms in defense, only stared at him with disbelieving eyes.

“Why do you call me by that name?” the boy demanded to know. Miroku noticed a slight tremor in the hand holding the weapon. It fell half an inch as the boy hesitated.

“Because that is your name,” Sango replied. She reached out for him with a cautious hand, touching the kimono he wore. “You are my brother.”

The boy followed the line of her arm, glancing down at the material she gripped in her hand. “I found this in the hut,” he said. “The one I had was torn and bloody, and I thought…since the village was abandoned…I could…have it.”

Sango bit back a sob, and Miroku’s heart constricted at her pain. “I, too, recognize you,” he stated, bringing the boy’s confused gaze to meet his. “That weapon you wield, I have seen you use it before. To slaughter people.”

The boy lowered the weapon he held, a long sickle attached to a chain. “Then you know,” he breathed. “You see my sins, monk. You can heal my soul!” He suddenly fell to his knees and bowed before Miroku. “Please, help me, lord monk!”

Miroku stared down at the boy’s head, distraught. He had no memory, and refused to believe what his own sister told him! Would it be him who reopened the mortal wounds of this family? Would it be him who told this boy of his past, who brought the horror of his own actions back to him?

Sango knelt beside him and embraced him once again. “Please believe me, Kohaku,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “I have searched so long for you. I will not let you go.”

His broken expression met Sango’s. “I want to believe you, my lady,” he said. “I have been staying in this place for almost a fortnight, and something is on the brink of my memory. That’s why I stole this kimono, why I’m staying in that hut. I will return everything, I will pay penance for my deeds! But I will not deceive you, willingly or not. My pain is mine alone.”

He pushed out of her arms once again, turning to Miroku and putting his head to the ground once more. “Lord monk, I beg of you! Purify these weapons and help my soul find peace!” He hesitated for a moment, holding the posture, then cried out and thrust himself away from them, hurtling back towards the hut with great speed.

Sango covered her face with her hands, unable to control the sobs that wrenched from her body. Miroku hugged her close, murmuring encouraging words to her, willing her to lean on him and let go of her sorrow. So it’s come to this, he thought, closing his eyes and cupping Sango’s cheek against his own.

“Are you ready, Sota?” Kagome asked, looking at her younger brother with impatience. “We don’t want to be late!”

“How can you be so cheery so early in the morning?” he grumbled, digging his chopsticks into his breakfast. She continued to glare at him until he gave up and stuffed the eggs in his mouth as fast as he could. “All right, already! Let’s go.” He shoved back from the kitchen table and followed her out the door. She was already in her shoes at to the end of the courtyard, tapping her foot anxiously as he slid into his shoes.

Grandpa and Mama Higurashi watched them leave, their wry smiles giving their expressions commonality. Mama sighed and shook her head, gathering the dirty dishes her children had left behind. “It’s good to see some life back in Kagome’s cheeks,” she said as she cleared the table.

Grandpa nodded in agreement. “She has a purpose again,” he replied.

“Yes, though I wish it had more to do with school and less to do with archery,” her mother noted. She piled the dishes in the sink and turned on the water, letting it grow warm before beginning the wash. “I haven’t seen her friends around here in ages.”

“It seems she’s gotten caught up in her life on the other side of the well,” Grandpa said, a note of pride in his voice. “She’s changed quite a bit in the last three years.”

Mama turned to look at her father-in-law, unable to conceal the worry in her eyes. “And I’m not sure it’s been for the better. The more time she spends over there, the less interested she seems to be in her actual life.” She sighed. “I guess I should be glad she’s at least taking these archery classes, and dragging Sota to kyûdô on Saturdays. Anything is better than moping out by the Sacred Tree all day.”

She turned back to the sink. Those first few days that Kagome had been home, she did little else but stay at the base of the Sacred Tree. She sat there, staring out into the middle distance, for the length of the day. Sometimes she’d cry, but mostly she’d just sit there, doing nothing. A week later, she announced she was going to enroll at the university. Mama was secretly happy at this development; she hoped it meant that Kagome’s attachment to the strange world across the well was lessening, and she was moving on with her life in the present.

All such hope was shattered when Kagome announced which class she wanted to take. Advanced Archery. Of all possible classes offered at all the universities in Tokyo, that was the one that interested her? And the only one, no less! The one skill she’d picked up in her adventures and battles. No, instead of loosening the ties that bound her to the past, she was attempting to strengthen them.

Mama was supportive, of course. She wanted nothing more than her daughter’s happiness, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be concerned about her as well.

A slight chuckle from Grandpa brought her out of her thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the feeling of lost love,” he said softly, rising from his seat at the table and hobbling towards her. His feet were slowing in his advanced age.

A stab of pain sliced through Mama’s chest. “Of course not,” she replied, scrubbing a dish vigorously. She felt her father-in-law’s hand on her shoulder.

“That is what Kagome struggles with,” he said softly, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “She has been separated from the one she loves, and she is learning the painful lessons of dealing with those feelings.”

Emotion welled deep in Mama’s chest. She bit her lip to keep from crying. She put another plate under the suds and scrubbed away. Grandpa regarded her with a keen eye. “As hard as it is, Kagome is growing up and making her own decisions about her life. We can’t force her to stay here with us, just as Inuyasha can’t keep her on that side of the well with him. We all have to respect whatever decision she makes, and support her.”

Mama nodded in agreement. “Of course,” she replied. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to convince her…

Kagome learned quickly why her instructors at the university had been curious about her bow. When she showed up for her first class, Sensei Hitoma had given her a recurve bow and carbon/alloy arrows in place of her familiar longbow and wooden arrows. “This is what we use in competition,” he had told her, and the implication was obvious – this is what they’d use not only in Advanced Archery, but also in his supplemental Olympic-competition class.

The recurve bow was similar to her longbow; the main difference was that instead of straight limbs attached to the bowstring, the limbs curved slightly forward when strung. She found it hard to control the bow’s enormous power, especially considering how far back and how hard she was used to drawing the string. However, slowly but surely, she was getting used to using the complicated fiberglass bow and the lightweight arrows. Sensei Hitoma suggested she buy her own bow soon, so she could modify it to her specifications and become stronger with it, instead of using the assorted bows he had collected for his classes.

She took Advanced Archery at the university twice a week (Mondays and Wednesdays), the special Olympics class, also at the university, once a week (Fridays), and practiced kyûdô twice a week (Thursdays and Saturdays) at a local dojo. Her grandfather had suggested it, since he had known the instructor practically his entire life. He’d also suggested Sota take the class, too, as part of his duties as the next Higurashi shrine priest. Sota had grumbled about it, but that didn’t slow Kagome down in the least. She found she really enjoyed the ancient martial art. It was quite calming and peaceful; on top of that, it made her feel more confident in her abilities.

The siblings entered the dojo with a few minutes to spare. They slipped into the locker rooms to change their clothes; they practiced their kyûdô skills in traditional kimono and hakama. Kagome pulled her hair back with a hair ribbon, the sense of déjà vu washing over her. How many times had she worn a similar outfit in the past, when her school uniforms were ruined in one way or the other?

She quickly joined Sota on the mats of the dojo, where the instructor was putting them through warm-ups. The air was calm, relaxing. The walls were sparsely decorated; the dominant feature was a mirror in front of the twenty-odd students, which was used to correct form. They weren’t yet working with arrows; they were only now using the great yumi bows as they practiced the positions and holds. It was a bit like yoga to Kagome’s mind; concentration on the connection between the body and soul was paramount.

“Let us begin,” the instructor said in a soft, smooth voice. “Ashibumi.” There was a shuffling noise as the class stood in a single file line at pre-prescribed places on the floor. Small lines were drawn parallel to the front wall. Kagome placed her feet so that they were an equal distance apart from the line on either side, thrusting her left side out front.

The instructor walked around the room, correcting placement and body turns. “Dozukuri,” he announced, moving on to the next step in setup. Kagome adjusted her body, finding equilibrium in her shoulders and hips in her stance. Ideally, they would also be split by the line between her feet. It still felt strange to her, standing like this, but the instructor did not stop to rearrange her.

“Yugamae.” The instructor walked back to the head of the class. “Step one: torikake.” This was the step to prepare the bow in the hands. Kagome first gripped the bowstring with her right hand. The yumi yawned in front of her. The giant bow stood two meters in height, soaring high above her head when held upright. The grip was on the lower third of the bottom limb, which was inherently easier than trying to grasp it in its middle.

“Step two: tenouchi,” the instructor said, after a moment. She positioned her left hand on the grip, wrapping and rewrapping her fingers around it until she found a comfortable hold.

“Step three: monomi.” Kagome’s head turned and focused on the mirror in front of her. Eventually, this would be the target she would shoot at. As it was, she stared at her reflection as well as those of her classmates.

The instructor nodded into the mirror; it appeared everyone had good form to this point. “Uchiokoshi,” he said, and another flutter of movement crossed the room. Kagome raised the bow above her head. She felt the most stretch in this position, but had to admit the long lines of her arms and legs complemented the length of the bow. It was quite beautiful in isolation, but it hurt like hell for one unaccustomed to the weight of the yumi. Kagome still found the bow heavy, and the grip awkward, unbalanced. The sleeves of her kimono brushed her cheeks as they slid down her arms.

“Hikiwake,” came the next command. Finally, she could move her arms! She brought the bow down in front of her, simultaneously pulling back on the bowstring and pushing forward on the grip. It was a revelation the first time she’d done it; it took so much pressure off her right arm and balanced the weight of tension across her shoulders.

“Remember, class, the arrow would be between your eyebrows at this point,” the instructor reminded them. “We will begin using arrows soon, so concentrate on this motion, remember this position.” He walked around the room quite a bit now, adjusting the height of elbows and length of bowstrings being pulled taut. When he was satisfied with the whole of the class, he continued. “Kai. Continue into the full draw.”

Kagome was only too happy to do this; holding the bow in the hikiwake position was stiff and uncomfortable. She would be happy when they started using arrows, when these jerky motions would be smoothed out. She drew the string back to her ear, her fingers creasing just below her cheek.

“Careful, Ms. Higurashi,” the instructor contended. “You tend to lean to your right. Keep your arrow in line with your shoulders.” Kagome nodded, adjusting herself and picturing an arrow shaft between her fingers. She concentrated on the image reflected in front of her, imagining the point of her arrow gathering white magic.

“Hanare.” A whip of wind blew through the room as twenty bowstrings were released at once. Right hands were slightly raised into the air, all frozen in approximately the same position. Kagome concentrated hard on keeping her feet planted, resisting the urge to swing around after the shot.

“Zanshin. Release the concentration from firing the arrow.” Kagome closed her eyes for a split second, allowing her muscles to relax from their ironclad positions. She brought her hand down and readjusted her grip on the yumi. It continued to amaze her; the bow shifted in her hand and she never noticed it. Somehow, at that moment, she was completely immersed in her thoughts, her muscles merely making involuntary motions.

Simply amazing!

The class went through the exercises a few more times before ending for the day. Kagome changed back into her street clothes and waited in the lobby for her brother to emerge from the locker room. She watched the people passing by outside the window, her hand absently finding the Shikon Jewel around her neck. For a moment she felt quite removed from the scene, as if she was the outsider looking in. This feeling hadn’t really lessened in the time since her return from the past. She knew, logically, that this was when she belonged in the timeline, but her heart told a different story.

Her longing for Inuyasha certainly hadn’t decreased during her time in the modern era, nor the feeling of missing her other friends. It was funny; she didn’t really feel like she belonged in either time period. Whenever she was in one, she missed something about the other. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep up this double life.

“Ready, sis?” Sota was looking at her with some concern as he threw his backpack across his shoulders.

“Ready!” she replied, her voice a bit too cheery. She dropped the hand that had been playing with the jewel around her neck, and the two started down the street towards the shrine.

She was surprised to see her mother sitting out by the Sacred Tree upon their return. Sota was oblivious, hurrying back inside the main house for lunch. Kagome slowed her stride, looking at her mother curiously.

“Kagome,” her mother said, waving her over. “I think we need to talk.”


Author’s note: I have never attended a real kyûdô class, and there isn’t an instruction video or training session on the web that I’ve been able to find, so any mistakes in the scene I completely and heartily claim. I tried to imagine what a beginning class would be like, and it seems that the concentration on correct form would be paramount, especially before they started shooting actual arrows. I realize I left out quite a few details, mostly relating to equipment; this won’t be the last scene with kyûdô, so all will be covered in due time.