InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Inu Yasha in the Cupboard ❯ Will ( Chapter 3 )

W I L L

"Souta! SOUTA!!! Will you hurry it up? You are going to be late again!"

The house, although fresh at 6:45 in the morning, rang alive with my irritated demands, hand pounding furiously against the stairwell wall. I could just about solemnly swear that had I not seen my brother disappear off upstairs, I would have stated that there was not a living thing up there. But there was - my brother, typically. For the first few minutes I had awaited him, in a moderate form of patience that involved constant pacing and tapping of feet, but now as my analog watch noisily ticked away valuable seconds, I doubted I could wait very much longer without ending up late myself. I had already been lenient with him after all, considering that it had been near to a week for him from being absent from school and myself being absent from work, but my lenience has definite limits. If he kept up this act, I could speed to downtown at 100 kilometers per hour and still be given dirty looks by Mr. Yokoyama - my boss of no mercy.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming already," Souta, drowned from head to foot in all the latest male fashions in jewellery and silver bracelets (to compensate for the fact that he detested wearing a school uniform) and reeking strongly of cologne, plundered down the stairs, hair practically shimmering from a stick-solid sheen of gel. I may have even commented on how handsome my dear brother was, had I not been so infuriated by his negligence for punctuality. "We're not even late, we always leave at this time."

I sighed at his youthful ignorance, dusting off my knee-length skirt, picking up the 1992 Toyota car keys, and hustling him out the door. "I had already told you at breakfast that I need to fill up on gas. We're both going to be late now, so hurry it up next time, okay?"

"Alright fine, sorry bout that. Won't happen again, Kagome, I promise."

I just smiled, hurriedly, but yet smiled. Souta Higurashi sometimes would come to forget about "I will's" or "I'll try's", but he never did come to break a promise. That was a genuine quality that Grandpa had so developed within all of us.

"It might rain later, so bring your windbreaker," I reminded him observing as he stuffed the expansive thing into his tiny backpack, as I was fumbling for my house key in my purse, just about ready to lock the door, when I came upon something unexpected. Both my brother and I paused; stock still -- straight ahead of us, still in the house, standing quietly by the stairwell was our mother.

I didn't know what to think exactly, watching her watch us in return. I mean, what was I to think? It wasn't normal for Mama to be up at this hour, and even if she were she wouldn't have slithered around so quietly, so unnoticed. Besides, Mama barely had the energy to see us off in the mornings, and she most definitely didn't have that kind of motivation this past week. We - Souta and I - hadn't spoken much to her, at least not as much as we spoke to each other, which was rare already in itself. All in all, the house became eerily quiet, something that was uncomfortable and uneasy, yet entirely unavoidable. I had been hoping that returning to work today, and Souta going off to school, might ease the pressures on a grieving family, maybe even restore the happiness that was once there. But then again, there hadn't really been much happiness in Mama. As she stood there, only a couple of feet away from my paused self, I could already see what had been growing in her, accumulating, over a period of months: stress, fatigue, depression, inability. It was never more evident than now, her eyes with bags underneath, even deeper than my own, skin paled and face expressionless, nearly scary had she not been my mother, once full of a sweet love and charm. I could barely remember Mama that way - I could barely remember us that way, with family dinners and laughs and jokes, hugs and kisses while watching television programs or movies together. It was a pleasant memory, but that one didn't serve to reality any longer. That life had been whisked away from my mother's once sparkling eyes, that energy from her active self, that brilliance from her gleaming smile all in the time that her father, Grandpa, had been revealed to have a brain tumor last November. From that day on laughter had become extinct, and I could only wonder as to where real happiness went. And so there she stood, this inane and lifeless mother of mine, for reasons I didn't understand.

"Mama? Why are you up?" Souta was the first to question, peeking in through the screen door and gazing curiously at our mother.

I quickly forgot about the time, reading the seriousness behind my mother's distant eyes.

"Mama, what's wrong? You should be resting."

"Resting from what, Kagome?" Her tone surprised me - it was loud, not only loud, but also icy and uninviting. I nearly felt insulted so suddenly without reason, just hurt to the reality that my mother was the way she was, no longer lighthearted or endearing in the way she had been. I barely could understand who my mother was now.

"Well, just um... resting, mother. I mean it's earlier than usual for you to be up. I was just about to head to work and drive Souta to-"

"You're not driving anywhere today, Kagome. Call your boss and tell him you're sick - make up something. Souta, same with you. You're not going to school today."

I stared at my brother. Normally, the mere ideal of not going to school would send Souta in bouts of happiness claiming victory over the school board, but now his expression was as confused yet also as concerned as mine was. I could tell by our risen eyebrows and shortened breath that we could both easily take the hint that something was most definitely wrong. It was a terrible feeling, and one that so rudely interrupted the midst of "get-to-work" rush we had been in, but more so, punctured the hopes that this day could be the new beginning of a near-to-normal life.

"But Mama, we've already been absent for a week," I decided to try out my luck, turning back towards the cold silhouette. I figured that maybe she'd reveal more reason if I began to protest a bit. "I can't miss any more days, you know I need the money, and Souta can't be-"

"Kagome, do not question me."

I shut up immediately, feeling my throat get caught at the bold irritancy in her tone. My mother was not happy. My mother, who hadn't changed appearance in like eight years with the same beautiful curly hair wrapping her face and pleasant smile to accompany, all of a sudden didn't seem familiar at all. I barely ever saw her angry - upset, yes - but never angry. It reminded me almost instantly of the arguments that had gone on all throughout the weekend: raised voices and discontent tones between herself, Uncle Tsutomu and Aunt Ryoko - and now with me.

"Kagome, you are an adult now," She looked towards me, though I barely returned that stare, afraid of the flame within her eyes, almost hurt by it. "You can make your own choices. I have something to tell you and your brother, and it is much more important than one day of your job or one day of Souta's schooling. But if you think otherwise, then go ahead and run off to work. Souta, you're staying with me, for I need to talk to you and you will listen."

I watched uneasily as my brother sulked past me, flashing me a totally confounded look, feeling less apt to hear my mother's news as I was. He dropped his backpack by the shoe closet, and I knew then that this was no joke - he wasn't going to school. It was so strange, so weird even. My mother had never done such a thing before, never had reason to pull myself or Souta out of class for a "talk". It was something that accentuated this moment as important, yet, I needed to go to work, much more than my brother needed to go to one day of school. It was like a necessity, for when after finals were over, more students would be applying for my job and my hours may be cut down to size, and so the income as well. Missing a week was critical enough as it was, but how long could that pattern last?

"Mama, can't you tell me the news tonight, when I get home?" Again, I took a chance, gambling for some cooperation from her. "I'll come home a bit early if you'd like."

She gave me another look. It was nearly frightening, needless to be described in words. I could tell by just that one glance - she was irritated, she was tired, she was upset and unwilling - it was now or never.

Obediently, without a word yet filled with a disappointed dread, I stepped back into the house and removed my shoes, closing the door behind me, yet catching a glimpse of my watch. A hand lay on the 11, another on the 7. It was five to seven. It was impossibly late now anyway, there was no turning back. I may as well go and face the undesirable, as much as I didn't want to.

As we came upon the kitchen to the table where we ate, I took the seat across from my brother. Judging from our nearly identically puzzled faces, I felt no older than he was, despite the "adult" label my mother so entitled me to. The wooden chair was rigid and uncomfortable, making my back feel stiff, adding to the misery of the moment.

Then my mother took her seat, in the middle of us both, with me and Souta at the ends of the table facing each other in concern, my mother at the side, facing neither of us, yet staring ahead at the wall as she spread documents along the table surface. I noticed that she had just awaken, still head to toe in pajamas with uncombed bed-hair, yet even with my brother fashioning his stylish wardrobe, and me in my business attire, still our mother looked much more prestige and intimidating than we ever could.

I observed silently as she filed through those numerous sheets. I swallowed nervously at the sight of them, playing around with my blouse collar in need of a distraction. I did not want to talk about this. I did not want to talk about this now, or ever, for that matter.

"Do you know what these papers are all about?" My mother asked dryly, knowing that we all knew the answer, for it was only as plain as day.

"It's the will, Grandpa's will," Souta answered softly, stating the obvious. I could tell he too wanted to distract his mind, calling over to Buyo, our overweight Calico, who, though a feline who had no business in the human affairs, still looked as perplexed and concerned as we did. I felt like calling to the cute little thing too, maybe using the excuse to let Buyo outside to allow me to escape from the situation, but still I knew it was already beyond hope.

"That's right," Mama looked to Souta, and then looked to me, meeting our eyes as if to subconsciously warn us to keep attention, and quit using Buyo as a point of refuge. It felt so official, so formal, like it was a hearing or something, rather than a family conversation.

"As you know, myself and my brother and sister-in-law have been discussing this will for the weekend while they had stayed with us," Mama said, pausing to look over some documents before going on to the next one.

I would have considered it more argumentative than "discussing", but I kept my thoughts from being voiced. It would have been nice to get to know my extended family a bit better while they had lived with us for four days, yet it had seemed impossible considering the conditions that we were all having to cope with. Everyone had been quiet to everyone else, with the exception of this cursed will, where havoc had been raised over it for reasons I would soon know. Whatever was written on those papers, whatever words had been exchanged over those papers, was practically sacred. I was afraid to even look at them, for at the sight of my mother's disdain and forlorn expression, whatever it was this will had to reveal, it sure didn't seem to be very promising.

"Are you going to tell us what you guys decided?" I finally asked, deciding that maybe talking would relieve some tension, but soon after I quite regretted it, feeling my voice echo itself as my mother didn't answer right away. I stared at Souta with a dubious expression, wishing only he had come downstairs earlier, and just maybe we could have escaped in time before all this had to occur.

Finally, our mother shared a quiet nod, "This is very serious, Kagome. You may think that this is a waste of your time and Souta's while you two could probably hear it later on, but I felt it's best you hear it now. You can make your judgments later."

I swallowed, both down my nervousness and my pride. I felt aggravated by her answer; the fact that she would assume that I would think the will was a "waste of time". I mean, yes, if anything I'd rather be at work happily expecting a paycheck, but this was of equal importance and I knew that. It wasn't my mother's right to go parading as if she knew what I was thinking and displaying me to be some sort of selfish money-starved ogre, but it wasn't in my power to argue at this moment. There were lines strewn all over the place, and I felt that I couldn't cross any of them.

"You know what, Souta, why don't you go call your school now and Kagome's office to tell them you two won't be coming in for one more day," My mother, to my surprise, turned to my brother with a kind dismissal from the table. How I deeply envied him. "My address book is on the counter in the hall by the phone. Be prompt, okay hun?"

Souta nodded very agreeably, looking almost happy to be talked to in a somewhat affectionate tone - of which I envied once again, how great it is to be the youngest child - and raised himself to go over and do as he was asked. He only stopped once to give me a fleeting glance, one that easily read "I don't plan on returning quickly. Good luck against Mama's wrath," as he disappeared down the corridor. I didn't expect it would take him long too make the calls, but still, while he was gone I would be alone with mother, alone with her and the sheets of paper that angered her so.

"I wanted to speak with you first Kagome," Mama's voice caught me off guard, as she leaned in and gave a little sigh. I could tell that for the first time since I had seen her this morning, Mama was finally starting to show a few signs of fatigue. I had figured she had awoken earlier just to catch up with us before we left, so it was only natural. Yet, even then, she still held her position of authority.

"I'm glad you stayed home. I'm sorry that you couldn't go to work today, but after you hear what I have to say, I don't think you'll worry so much over Effort Trust."

I looked to her suspiciously, waiting for Mama to elaborate, of which she never did, probably waiting for me to ask her to do so. Only thing was, I wasn't so sure what to say. Should I just go and directly ask why I should not worry about my job? Truth of the matter was, I barely wanted to know. I feared what she might say in return, but knew that it would eventually come to be said, so I could only hope for the best.

"Why would you say that, Mama?" I allowed the words to stream out before I could restrain them any longer, feeling clamped and anxious while unbuttoning my top blouse button from choking my neck and abruptly tugging off my ponytail. I barely ever like to wear my hair up, quite comfortable with the simple slightly-past-shoulder-length style I've fashioned over the years, but it was one of the requirements at work. But at the moment, I was not at work, and felt any sort of remote comfort was of absolute essence.

"Kagome, I'll be blunt," Mama stated, pulling a bang back behind her ear. I held my breath at such a phrase, wishing her to take it back, wishing she would instead beat around the bush until there was no more bush left to beat, rather than being direct. For some reason I was quite content with the suspense of not knowing, happily left aloof. Almost instantaneously, I began picking at the tablecloth to try and keep my mind as aired as possible. I wasn't trying to be rude or stupidly ignorant, it's just that it didn't take anyone special to notice that whatever this was, it most certainly wasn't good news.

"I cannot support this family as well as I could before," Mama began taking in a heave of breath as I could do nothing but listen. "I don't earn enough with this cashier job to support the lot of us."

"But you really don't have to," already, I began to interrupt. Sometimes, a bit of two-way conversation was the only way to keep me sane when listening to what I didn't want to hear. "I can as well take care of myself with the Effort Trust income, and Souta can get a better job than his paper route when he turns sixteen next year. You're not switching to another job, are you? Because you don't have to."

"Kagome, let me finish," Mother looked to me plainly, signifying that her income was not what was of concern, and now I was the one jumping to conclusions. I couldn't help it though, feeling so subject to the awry conditions while silent, demanding to voice up against what I already couldn't change.

"The Higurashi Temple costs a lot to maintain as you already know. Myself and your grandfather could manage before, because he took care of grounds keeping while we were gone or busy, plus his old age pension went to cover any extra costs if the outside shrines would need repair on the roofing or so forth. And-"

Mama paused for a second, I could tell by how quickly she spoke that she was near to fighting to keep the words coming. It was difficult for mother to speak of this, as it would be for anyone, but most difficult for her. My worry was slightly replaced by compassion, as I began to wonder as to where mother was leading. For once, I almost even came to want her to be more blunt than she was being.

"… and well, Grandpa left us a good lot of money in his will, as he promised he'd always take care of us, but I'm afraid it won't be enough."

"Enough? Enough for what?" I couldn't help but ask. All this time, though adult as I was, I still felt as if a child to these affairs, as if my ears were too young to hear or understand them. I knew that we were in financial trouble, I had known that for a while and I knew that as the property value of the area around us increased, so did maintaining such a large level of land. The shrine was old, incredibly old in some areas, and called desperately for repair and attention. But without Grandpa, it was hard to take care of such a place or fund such maintenance, it was hard - but yet no one deemed it to be impossible.

"Kagome, we may have had enough before," Mama sighed, looking to me, pleading with me to grasp her words. "But that was before your Grandpa had to go in for that operation. You do remember that we spent a lot of money for his medication and all of those many hospital bills, not to mention paying for the travel to get to Sapporo and staying at that motel. Of course, I'll never regret our efforts, but there was a price to them."

I nodded vaguely, beginning to come to terms with what mother meant. We all knew that there were financial issues to be dealt with; they were, after all, entirely unavoidable at the expenses the hospital needed. Mama hadn't wanted to give up on Grandpa, and I would always admire her for that. She had been so strong at that time, still burning in my memory, as she had never accepted no for an answer. Because of the effects of the tumor, Grandpa couldn't argue otherwise, and neither did Souta or I. We were on our mother's side, and as a family we fought until the very desperate end to save whom we loved most, actions influenced by emotion, rather than practical sense based on finances. As much as that decision now had us neck high in loans and debts trying to scramble for some space away from it all, as mother said, we'd never ever regret our efforts. Never.

"How much do we owe the bank, Mama?" I asked quietly, thumbing through what I knew of insurance policies. Working for Effort Trust led me to be fluent in such matters, and I suddenly wondered why I was so aloof in this business Mama was drowning in. I was the eldest child after all, shouldn't I have been more involved in our crisis? But I did put in my efforts, in fact, all of my efforts. My working overtime at Effort Trust didn't always go to my schooling, but plenty of it went directly to Mama when I felt she needed it - which sometimes could be often. But as for talking about the matters, even though I felt that facing such ordeals was something I was now old enough and mature enough to do, it still felt like something of which I didn't want to become too indulged in. Fact of the matter was it was scary to know such things. No one wants to know that they're family is barely hanging on the balance of living means, but more so, even a family that knows it will not always want to discuss it.

"We owe a lot Kagome," Mama answered dryly, gazing over a few sheets of paper, then pausing her eyes over a large amount of figures. She sighed in self pity, "It seems we owe the Otaru Dominion Bank 650, 742 ¥ for the last few hospital visits, as well as the accommodations in Sapporo and the operation, the doctors and specialists, medication…"

"But wait a minute," I argued, astonished. Even I hadn't thought we were under such a debt. "You said Grandpa left us something in his will. That must be able to cover it."

"It's not enough, Kagome," she looked to me and spoke in a matter-of-factly way. She seemed to appear somewhat disgusted, as if she hated talking about this, and needless to say I agreed with such a feeling. In our family, the loss of a loved one is a terrible yet frequently run across thing, and when a will would be presented, it was literally considered sacred. It was a gift after all from the deceased, and more than anything, Mama and I absolutely detested speaking of the will as if it were just some big money grab. But yet, we had no other choice but to discuss it, for it was just Mama, Souta and I now. We had to take care of each other.

"I hadn't even included your school budget on that," My mother's eyes scanned over scribbles on a notepad, her calculations, I figured. "I still have 130, 148 ¥ in savings, but that's for your university courses and even yet that's not enough, which is why you've overworked yourself to try to make up for my recklessness with money."

"Mama, it's not your fault!" I argued quickly, wondering why she would so suddenly turn against herself. "Everything you've done for us has been more than a blessing. These money troubles were just inevitable, that's all, there's no one to blame. Besides, Grandpa's gift to us must be able to at least cover one of these expenses, plus I'm sure I'll qualify for a student loan."

"You're right about that," Mama nodded, finally allowing me to take a short breath in relief to be enlightened with some good news, brief as it would be. "During the time your grandfather was sick, and we had to visit that neurologist, I had to use a lot of Souta's college savings to cover the costs. It seems that what Grandpa has left us in return will be enough to satisfy all of our needs, but it won't compensate the needs of this temple, and needless to say, he made it so that we wouldn't have to worry about the temple grounds at all."

"What do you mean?" I wondered anxiously, happy to know that our family had some sort of rescue wormhole to slip out of, but still unaware as to how far that wormhole stretched. "I thought you said that taking care of the shrine would be the most expensive problem we'd face."

"It would have been, Kagome," Mama agreed partially. "Yet as of the start May, this shrine will not be ours to worry about."

My throat almost immediately tightened, feeling a strangeness to Mama's words, making me want to scream that what I expected wasn't true, but by the broken way she returned my stare and the hopelessness that flooded her eyes, it only came to be an evident inevitable.

"You're selling the shrine?"

Souta's exclamation came to startle us all, as I looked upwards to see him standing by the kitchen doorway, wondering as to how long he had been observing the discussion. Just as I, his face seemed somewhat paled, and worried as to where Mama was going with the topic at hand. Everything seemed to wind down unwanted paths, and it was only to our suspense as to where exactly those paths led.

"It's not entirely like that Sou-chan, come sit yourself," Mama soothed softly, making me realize just how much she still considered Souta to be a youngster of sorts. At first I had thought she was just in a bitter and formal mood because of her tone towards me, but she talked to me in such a way because of her figuring that I was well flexed in the language of adulthood which didn't require the softening of sharp-edged subjects - yet how I longed for her comfort as well, her assurance that "everything will be alright". But I could understand my Mama's needs, I knew that she needed me to be an adult now more than ever, and couldn't spend her time trying to paint me happy pictures. It was just the three of us now, and in turn, more responsibility would come to be borne upon my shoulders.

"So we're not selling the shrine?" Souta asked still unsure of himself, glancing at me with a puzzled expression as I so abundantly returned it.

"No," Mama confirmed. "It will not be ours to sell. Your Grandpa had decided a while ago, when he wrote up his will with myself and your uncle, that by the time of his passing Kagome would have likely finished university, and the money he'd leave us would just be enough for us to get a small place down in the city."

"But why?" Souta protested almost immediately, much more vocal about his confusion. "Why to the city?"

"If we were to live in the Sapporo suburbs, Kagome could find a job easily in the downtown area and wouldn't have to commute such long hours," Mama explained, pointing out something even I hadn't been aware of. "Originally, we could be able to afford this, even despite the fact that Kagome isn't even in university just yet, but I'm afraid we spent more on the hospital costs than planned."

"But since we can't afford to get a new house," Souta continued to persist. "We're going to stay here instead?"

"And just how do you think we'd manage taking care of this place, Souta?" Mama sighed in exasperation, trying to get us all to catch on quicker than we wanted to. "Kagome has to worry about getting into a university now, and she'll need all the money she and I can offer. Seeing as you graduated a year ago," she looked to me. "I'm sure your one year gap of working for Effort Trust to catch up on finances must have been helpful."

I nodded, unbelieving to the fact that a year leaving high school, entering college, and working to afford it all, had passed so quickly.

"As for you," she turned to my brother. "Grandpa's will went to replenishing your college expenses as well as any last minute bills here, and the rest will be for when we get settled."

"Settled?" This time I was the one who dug for further explanation.

"Kids," Mama looked dearly to us both. It was a loving expression, yet one that signified that what which would be said wouldn't be easy to bear. "Listen to me: As of May, we won't be living here any longer. Your grandfather, and myself and Tsutomu, have decided that your Uncle Tsutomu will be the one to inherit the shrine."

"What are you talking about?" Souta's voice claimed more volume, as both he and I were taken aback by Mama's sudden words. "We live here! Why would Uncle Tsutomu want this place? It's ours!"

"Souta, will you quiet down? Act mature." Mama scolded angrily, although appearing stern I could as easily tell she wasn't any happier about the ordeal than we were. As for myself, I was dead quiet, looking inanely at the two members of my family, unbelieving to what she said. We had lived here for… eras, practically, and almost literally, since many of our ancestors had resided on the same grounds. This was a beautiful place, and that was all there was to it. It was no wonder Souta would be so scarred by the news; as a child he spent most of his time helping Grandpa with the shrine, taking care of it or letting it take care of him. He knew almost as many legends about it than Grandpa did, and this place had become a part of Souta at heart. For me, it didn't hurt too much to think it through, since I would have been moving to live on my own at one point or another anyway, and besides, the shrine would still belong to a member of the Higurashi family, so the legend would continue along with future generations, though it was a gut feeling of mine that Souta would have been the one who wanted to continue it on himself.

My younger brother sat himself down furiously, crossing his arms and refusing to look at our mother. I could empathize with his anguished feelings, wishing too to ravel myself into a type of temper tantrum, but I couldn't as well complain. As an adult who worked often with numbers and policies, I knew that there wasn't much flexibility in such a scenario as ours. Mama had probably bent over backwards to get what she has gotten, and whether it was likeable or not wasn't the issue - as long as it was livable was what was important.

"You're saying that Uncle Tsutomu can afford to maintain the shrine, right? So that's why Grandpa left it to him?"

"Exactly Kagome," Mama continued, looking somewhat pleased with me for not behaving the same as Souta, though I still discreetly showed some forms of disappointment about where this will was most certainly headed. "Your uncle, my brother, is coming close to his retirement years so it's best he can find a place like this where it's quiet and relaxing and to his budget, but as for you and your brother, you two will be better off in the city where things can happen for the both of you - But the thing is, we don't have enough money to move to the city."

"I was just about to ask that," I couldn't help but point out with an eyebrow raised. "If we can't afford to get a new house, and neither can we afford to stay here, just what do you have planned?" I asked the question with little show of eagerness for an answer. It was a terrible thing to ponder about, for if we weren't going to stay any longer in our wonderful home, and neither were we to move to Sapporo, whatever other options that were left were anything but appealing.

"That is what I have been discussing with your uncle all this time," Mama sighed, looking tired at just recalling the weekend's hassling events, running a hand through her graying hair. "Your uncle didn't' seem to realize the crisis we were in, so it took a lot of persistence on my part."

"What do you mean?" Finally, Souta decided to voice up again, although he still looked discontented about everything that we were talking of. "Why wouldn't Uncle Tsutomu want to lend us a hand?"

"Sou-chan," we watched suddenly surprised as our mother laid a warm hand on top of Souta's.

"Kagome-chan," doing the same to me, she paused to eye us both softly, keeping us in the stilled suspense as to what her affections symbolized, what the seriousness in her tone struggled to say.

"Your uncle and I never grew up together," she began to explain; speaking of something we had known of. After all, there was a near to 2 decade age difference between my mother and her brother, Mama being 43, and Uncle Tsutomu already at 59. Mama continued with her story, "By the time I was born, he had already gone to fight in World War II. It was wonderful that he survived it, but as you know, it's hard to leave something of such magnitude unaffected. He even left your Aunt Ryoko for a few years so he could recuperate. Essentially, I never got to meet my brother until I was in my twenties, and thus we haven't gotten to share what you two share."

She looked to us deeply just then, and I could feel the clutch of her hand atop mine, I could feel that the words she spoke were transmitted from her entire self, in her soft spoken voice, quavering hands, with every touch and breath. "That's why you two should always stick together, always take care of each other - no matter what happens. You two are family, do you understand that?"

There were vigorous nods in reply from Souta and myself, caught still in the passion of her tone. I didn't even think of the time when Souta had put peanut butter in my shoes on April Fool's Day, or assaulted my best friends with Nerf balls when he was nine; and I'd bet he wasn't fussing over the time I ratted on him for pouring dish detergent on mother's prized petunias when she wouldn't allow him to get a new video game, or the time I had told Miyako Matsudo of his three year long infatuation towards her. Sure, those were probably the climaxes of our sibling rivalry, but the mere thought of me and Souta being anything like Mama and Uncle Tsutomu - distanced and unattached, like ordinary strangers -was enough to make those memories more valuable than gold.

"Good. Whatever you do, stick together. Always." She patted our hands twice, and held her breath for a second. Almost instantly, my eyebrows furrowed in concern, heart aching to even come to imagine what kind of past it was that my mother had lived.

"I can't believe he wouldn't help you out!" Souta suddenly exclaimed, troubled too over Mama's weary expression. "What kind of older brother doesn't look out for his only sister and nephews and nieces? It isn't like him and Aunt Ryoko have any children anyway. What an asshole!"

"Souta, watch your language please," Mama rushed to reproach his words, although most definitely not with the same stern manner she would normally use upon catching Souta cuss. It almost made it evident - to a certain degree, she agreed with her son. "I know the way I'm speaking of it now demeans your uncle, but I know he was only looking out for his own well being too."

"But we need stuff more than he does!" Souta continued to argue, being a little hotheaded, yet only out of devotion to himself, myself, Mama and Grandpa. "You already said he's really wealthy, of course, because he gets so much retirement money from the Navy! So if anything, he should have been the first in line to help us out."

"I know what you're trying to say Souta," Mama gazed to him, with an appreciative smile. "I'm happy for your concern, but you have to remember that your uncle has his own issues to worry about as well. And besides, I haven't finished explaining everything."

"You're right," I nodded, remembering the one most obvious missing detail. "According to the will, Uncle Tsutomu will be living here come May, yet we can't move to Sapporo, so what are we going to do? Are we staying here with him?"

"I'm afraid not," Mama shook her head quietly.
"Why? Because he was too greedy to share?" Souta interjected, apparently now attached to his newfound displeasure towards our uncle.

"Souta, it's not like that," Mama continued to hush down his anger, if not her own. "Although the temple grounds are vast, there are only certain places here that have been moderated, and you know that. We can't get any heating into the outside gazebos or temple sheds, and besides, many of them don't even have flooring or secure walls. I'm surely not going to have you two sleeping in that. As for the living areas in here," she surveyed the kitchen, and the hallways leading to the stairwells to our rooms upstairs. "It's perfect for us, but all of us together might just be a hassle at times. You two don't even know your aunt and uncle all that well, with the exception of when we visited them seven years ago! Besides, this place is ancient. It'll fall apart with all of us running amuck. It's best he takes care of it now."

"So what's going to become of us?" I finally asked directly, feeling an ache to the words. Though I didn't show it as much as Souta made a display of it, I too was upset about leaving our home, sweet home. This was a gorgeous place amongst a gorgeous landscape of trees and hillsides, Japanese scenery that dated back to the age of the temple itself. Souta and I bore no other childhood memory that didn't involve our magnificent Higurashi Temple at one point or another. Besides its fascinating history, and the dozens upon dozens of legends behind each tree, fort or stone, it was still what it would be to anyone - home. There almost never was an evening that we couldn't see the sun slip away behind the western escarpments shadowed by towering trees, or wake to a morning filled with the call of exotic forest birds, some even birds of prey, that loomed upon the vast lands. But moreover, there were memories here, memories that didn't belong to ancestors or ancient folk we knew of only by word of mouth, but memories that belonged to us. It was the recollection of Grandpa, friendly smile, sweeping the walkway, of Souta as a youngster climbing upon the pagoda roofs to everyone's protest, of Mama by Goshinboku, the eldest tree that guarded our home, with thoughts of her own memories, with myself by the well, staring aimlessly into it and simply gazing at the empty black, wondering only of the mysteries that lay within. And then there were the unforgettable memories, the ones that lay with us forever and only us. I could still think of it. I could still see Mama's fantastic smile, her eyes with this life that had now been taken away too many times, with her gentle kisses to him and an affection - a love - that she bore to him and no other. I could still feel the warm hand atop my head, petting my hair as I clutched to his leg as a child, grinning at his usual greeting, "How's my little princess?" Then we'd watch as he crooned over baby Souta, making the silliest faces which brought the child to a healthy laugh, completing the image of a sweet little family, with Grandpa and myself, baby Souta, Mama and… our dad.

"The only way that this will work for all of us," Mama's answer to my ponderings cut through my private stowaway of thoughts, as she continually clasped and unclasped her fingers from each other, apparently not any more delighted to what she would come to say, as we would soon be. "Is if we trade."

"Trade?" both Souta and I chorused unanimously, unprepared for such a phrase. I had a feeling as to what Mama was alluding to. I didn't like it.

Our mother came upon a heavy sigh, resting her chin upon her frail hand with elbows upon the table surface, as she would commonly forbid us to do, signifying the alteration of her priorities. "Yes, as in homes."

"Homes?" Souta continued to act as if Mama's second voice, with the only exception in that what he echoed was something neither him nor I fully understood. That allusion of which I had come to perceive became even stronger, and yet, I continued to like it even less, feeling as if my entire chest cavity was tightening, wishing for it to be not so, wishing for everything to be not as it was.

"I would have liked to say there was another option," Mama avoided our eye contact, keeping her focus straight ahead, as if there were something of interest within the kitchen tiles. "But this was the only way things could work out for the better. However, your uncle wanted us to pay extra for his home - he claims that the mortgage of it is higher than that of the temple - but I wouldn't settle for such absurdity. We can't afford to pay any more, so I can't see why he even bothered. So he gave in to the trade. We'll be moving to your uncle's home by the 27th of April."

Cut and dry, Mama had said it. She finally came to speak what we, what all of us, had easily dreaded, had known was coming but worked so eagerly to deny. It was worse than I had presumed, because now it was confirmed - inescapable in every essence. Not only that, but only now were Souta and I borne with the reality of it, faces somewhat caught in a pause still of flabbergasted reaction, as if someone had shut off time and we were forever enclosed in our astonished expressions. Yes, understandably, it was probably our best option. It was the only way, as Mama had put it, and there was nothing we could do but accept it. So then, why? Why did my heart burn so, why did my fists clench themselves to compressed balls of infuriation, why did my face flush with intolerance, why? That was not Kagome. That wasn't the Kagome I knew of, it wasn't me, a placid happy girl who didn't believe in looking down, who's optimism was limitless, who's perception of life would remain positive in every way whatsoever. But that Kagome, that wonderful happy-go-lucky girl was being tested and tried in so many ways, pulled to a taut fine line threatening to break, if it hadn't already. How was it possible? How could it be possible that anyone, myself or any other, would have even the slightest trace of a smile in such a condition? We were losing everything! One by one, the solid structure of this once pleasing life was caving unto itself, surrendering to these unpredictable circumstances, foreshadowing only upset, only things we couldn't stand, only things I couldn't bear with any longer. I couldn't take it. I couldn't be happy. I couldn't be optimistic. I won't pretend life is blissful. I won't imagine hope in something that is utterly hopeless.

"You can't do this!" Suddenly, all of that emotion condensed together, erupted in its own anger, with no means of prevention I stood myself and slammed my palm against the table surface, feeling a sting overwhelm my right hand as the sound rang loud, yet ignoring it I glared at my mother menacingly, heart racing and words unstoppable.

"Kagome, WHAT is wrong with you?!" She showed no acceptance of such behavior, firing at me a look nearly lethal, in a supposed effort to calm me down while only rousing herself at the same time, as I could tell she was not impressed.

"What is wrong with me??" Yet I fought back with a sarcastic echo, stupidly and uselessly as it was, knowing it was a certain loss but still feeling that need to struggle, that urge to win what was already lost. "Listen to yourself Mama! It's impossible, if we leave, everything will be all messed up!" I tried to keep from shouting the words, lacking in a more imposing vocabulary, yet trying to get my point across.

"Kagome's right!" Souta suddenly backed me up to my sudden surprise and adequate relief, stepping in just as Mama was ready to lash out a response. "We can't leave Kamui-Misaki! We can't leave Hokkaido province, or the island! I mean, Sapporo was okay, but Uncle Tsutomu lives all the way in Aomori!"

"That's right! On Honshu Island, it's impossible! We'll spend more money just trying to get to the district of Tohoku," I stamped my point across boldly, teaming up with Souta, yet not exactly knowing as to what avail. It was useless, as I had already figured, yet that strange presence of argument still burned deeply, inspired by everything that this place stood for, both in past, present and future. "Mama, if we leave, I'll NEVER get into Hokkaido University, I can't afford a dorm! And even if I could I could still never-"

"YOU TWO, BE QUIET! THAT IS ENOUGH."

I had thought my voice was loud. I had thought my tone was glass shattering, but never mind that now. I felt belittled and tiny, totally meaningless and absolutely powerless in comparison to the force so invoked by my mother. She had stood herself, having slammed both fists against the table until I could almost swear I had heard the table legs creak in protest to such abuse, catching myself and my brother entirely off guard, to the point where I had to step back and could only look at her in fear of even breathing and enticing such an outburst all over again. I couldn't even look over to Souta, but yet I knew he would seem no different than I, intimidated to a submissive silence, unknowing as to how to go about the situation. We both stood and stared to our only parental figure left, half standing now as she slouched over, hands clasping the ends of the table facing downwards to the patterns of grain embedded in the wood. Her breath was rapid, inhaled and exhaled through her nose, using her breathing to slow herself as well as her temper, making myself realize just how much our arguing had affected her.

Suddenly, I felt very weak and selfish and stupid. How could I have done that? Just how I could I criticize? How was I helping the situation? Who was I to judge what is best for us? Who was I to think only of myself? I didn't know exactly, but I knew I felt disgusted with who I was becoming, disappointed and vilely disgusted.

"Do you think I complained…?" quietly, forcefully, she spoke with a tone so bitter it nearly sent shivers all over. I swallowed. She continued. "Do you think I complained about this? When by some miracle, all of us will have some way to provide for ourselves with a new start in the city of Aomori in your Uncle's nice home in the suburbs, I didn't even think about complaining. I was grateful. I don't care if he lived in a shack encrusted with termites, it doesn't matter. You two don't understand, do you? We're barely surviving here, and this is the best deal that was offered! How dare you two complain!"

Her voice seemed to rise in tension with each passing word, weary from her emphasis that we refused to come to grips with, angered by our self-thought, our lack of consideration. This became clear to me as she lectured, realizing that I was being troublesome when I knew it would only worsen the situation, making it harder for myself and Souta, but most of all, making it harder for her. I was supposed to be the most mature, the eldest, the understanding one - yet I was as cooperative as I was infantile. Guilt came to me of which I didn't attempt to swallow down, knowing it was only there rightfully so, thus instead I allowed it to swallow me whole.

"How dare you complain!" Mama repeated, sounding shaky in her words, as if on the verge of tears. It crushed my heart as if it were beneath my feet, feeling a self-loathing come upon me, wondering as to where my mind had gone. I dared not to protest in defense, and neither Souta nor I spoke a second of a sound. We stood in silence, in acceptance, of what we had known but so insensitively ignored.

"I didn't complain," Mama's voice became somewhat stronger, more passion, more feeling to it all. "I didn't complain when everything started turning for the worse, alright? I didn't sulk about it all. I didn't whine. I didn't go to someone and blame them for doing what they could to help me when it wasn't enough. Don't you think I wanted to? Don't you think I just wanted to shout how unfair the world was when my mother passed away from leukemia? Or how about when your grandfather was sick from cancer, wasn't life unfair to me then as well? Did you see me complain, or blame the doctors for not trying hard enough, or you two for not caring enough? Let's not make up imaginary problems! I didn't, and I won't. There was a real problem. Your grandfather was dying. I accepted that. I did what I could; everything and I mean everything in my literal power to stop what I couldn't prevent, and maybe it helped and maybe it didn't. But I didn't complain, when even after all that, I lost my father and about a year's worth of income, I had lost it all without complaint. You lost your grandfather. How can we complain? Everybody loses someone, and in my case, I've lost three 'someones'. I've lost people, not things, not houses, not university admissions, but three good-hearted people! But there's no one to blame, it happens. I lost your grandfather, I lost your grandmother, hell, I even lost…"

She trailed ever so quickly, ever so quietly, and tightly bit her lip, in which I did the same. I closed my eyes and looked away so quickly I nearly hurt my neck doing so, not knowing what was worse, feeling sorry for myself or hating myself at the same time as I felt sorry for her.

Opening my eyes I found Mama staring at us both, Souta and I, straightening her posture, taking in a breath. "Let's not dwell over the past," she said gently, her tone as if having transformed, possibly hiding hidden emotions, or yearning to get beyond them to whatever it was that lay ahead of us all. "You two know that the future that is stated by this will is all we have to go by. I'm sorry if it throws things off the balance, but Kagome," she smiled to me, unexpectedly, yet I held my breath. It was a comforting smile, one that was priceless and rare in every which way. "I'm sorry about Hokkaido, but you'll only need a little more money to get a dorm there. Don't give up. We'll change a few things on your registration and reapply for that loan, with your grades, your bound to get support here and there. But there are great schools in Tohoku as well, I know it's not what you wanted, but it's the all we can have."

I nodded quickly, thankful for her forgiving words. Maybe later on, maybe even this evening, I'd kick myself for feeling all of the work worthless, knowing it was impossible now to get into Hokkaido, residence and all, without a surprise scholarship on the horizon, on which I had barely qualified for but never received. But really, for now, and maybe for a long while longer, I wouldn't care about such a thing. I couldn't care about such a thing, for wasn't I just to be grateful to even have an education? Never mind the where's and the when's and the details, but just to learn was its own privilege. That was the way Mama looked at things, looked at the life she had to live with all of its pros and cons, and that's the way I once was, and had to come to be. "I understand, Mama, I understand."

"That's great," at my words, it was as if a burden was suddenly lifted from her shoulders, allowing a sort of new and refreshing look of contentment come upon her, and work to brighten that smile. Looking over to Souta, she asked the same, "And you?"

My only brother gazed at me, handsome dark eyes demonstrating he was also unsure of our vague lives ahead of us, yet he returned Mama's gaze and nodded, "I understand."

"Alright then. You may take a look at these papers if you'd like, but I just thought you both should know to start packing by this weekend. I'm sorry for this. But what more can we do?"

And so Mama left us with that rhetorical question, from this strange morning of mornings, walking herself down the corridor and up the stairs as we listened to the soft gradual movement of her feet, knowing that once again our mother was escaping to her own best times, alone, just alone in her private seclusion. It could be taken into assumption that she spent that time grieving, soul-searching, praying, thinking - whatever it was that Mama needed to by herself and on her own. Over the last week, those times when she had disappeared to the corners of the temple in her isolation were quite worrisome, terribly worrisome at times, where in my mind the devastating image of stumbling upon a mother overdosed with pharmacy drugs, eaten away by the moths of depression, lay remnant. But now, although the words of the will were not ones that were easily rejoiced to, it gave my heart rest, and Souta's rest, that there was promise where there was none before. It gave hope, a new chance that maybe Mama's depression would come and go, and solitary time would become family time once again. I had huffed over the fact that I couldn't go to work today, and Souta couldn't go to school, two events that I thought would signify the start of a normal life. But instead, as it seems, it was the decision made by my mother, the event caused by the will that signified the start of our new unknown lives left looming ahead of us, coming closer to our outstretched reach.

Side Note:

The country of Japan is divided into four main islands: Hokkaido, Honshu (the largest), Kyushu and Shikoku. Japan also has eight districts, similar to provinces or states, of Hokkaido, Tohoku, Chubu, Kanto, Kinki, Chugoku, Shikoku and Kyushu. In this fanfiction, Kagome resides in Hokkaido, near Otaru and Sapporo city near the area of Kamui-Misaki. Whether Hokkaido University is located near there is unknown, it's location being near Kagome is only a fictional aspect ^__^. Japan also uses the metric system, and since I'm familiar with the metric system (Go Canada! lol ^__^) I've decided to use it here ^__^.