InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity ❯ Restless ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
~~Chapter 6~~
~Restless~

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Kagome sighed and blinked in the dark quiet of her bedroom, unable to sleep. The hours had ticked away slowly—painfully slowly—drawing seconds into minutes, and minutes into what felt like an eternity.  Why was she so restless?

She reached up to finger the pink stone on her necklace but frowned as she brushed against the locket Houjou had given her. Carefully she unhooked the gold chain and dropped the offending piece onto the nightstand beside the bed. Why had that locket felt like some sort of collar? Like Houjou was trying to mark her as his territory?

Kagome laughed softly at her strange sensibility, but had to admit to herself that it felt much better, being free of Houjou's trinket.

In the darkened corner by her desk sat a huge backpack. Half hidden in the inky shadows it was, and as Kagome stared at it, she frowned. Slowly she stood and wandered over to hunker down before the bag. But when she reached out to touch it, she stopped. Why did she feel like there were things in that bag that could hurt her? `Secrets I don't think I want to know.'

With a snort at her own odd thoughts, Kagome shoved that idea aside. It was just a bag—her bag. Still, she couldn't bring herself to open it, and instead, she lifted it by the straps and pushed it to the back of her closet.

Kagome glanced at her bed and sighed once more. Why couldn't she sleep? She wandered over to her window and stared at the shrine courtyard, bathed in the beautiful blue light of the moon.

Goshinboku. The God Tree. The singular tree that stood in the middle of the grounds with a silent majesty that left Kagome in awe. When she was small, she used to climb that tree to sit up as high as she dared. The tree offered her a comforting aura back then. When she was especially sad, like when her father died, Kagome had often sought the comfort the tree offered her. `Why does it call to me now?'

A quick flash of crimson and silver flashed through her mind. Only colors, nothing more, and the vaguest scent of something wild, untamed—the bleeding dark and visceral. It could have been a feeling or an emotion. It could have been a memory or a fleeting fancy. It could have been a person or a time. Something about it intrigued her.  Too bad Kagome couldn't place it.

She growled low in her throat, confusion and irritation warring in her mind. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to intercept the gentle breeze and drew in a deep breath, willing her mind to clear, her thoughts to be cleansed.

A gentle smile toyed with the corners of her lips as she opened her eyes and gazed up at the full moon so high in the skies. How could it be that the moon was just beyond her reach, and yet there were times, weren't there, when she'd thought that maybe it wasn't so very far away, after all . . . Maybe, just maybe . . . A wistful thought rose in her heart, a bittersweet yearning to touch the moon . . .

Kagome let her eyes fall once more on Goshinboku, and her smile widened. She wanted to climb the tree again, to nestle in the comforting branches and to hear the quiet whispers of the ones who had gone on before. Growing up in the shrine, Kagome had always heard the tales, the stories that her grandfather was so fond of telling. To him, everything was mystical, clad in the ancient swell of religion, of magic. How many times had she heard the legend of the nameless young man—half-human, half-youkai—who had been pinned to that very tree for fifty years, only to be released by a very powerful, very mysterious miko?

The name of the hanyou had been lost in the annals of the passing centuries. The name of the miko had, as well, but the romantic lore of the tale held sway in Kagome's mind, and it was one of her favorites. The end of the story varied in the telling, though. Some claimed that the hanyou and the miko faded into history together. Others said that the hanyou lost the miko forever, and that he wandered the earth alone, searching for her and mourning her, because he loved her. In her mind, though, in her heart, she thought that maybe they'd just forgotten, and one day they'd both remember. Then they would be together. How could a love that strong, that pure, not have a happy ending?

A slight movement caught her eye, and Kagome frowned and squinted, staring at the riot of spring leaves that shrouded a whisper of an outline in the dark. A vague outline of silver, and then of crimson. She blinked in surprise. It looked like a person, sitting in the topmost branches of the tree.

Kagome stared another moment then backed away from the window, pausing long enough to grab her thin summer robe before running out of her room and down the hallway toward the stairs. The vision called to her heart, whispered to her in hushed tones that she could hear but could not discern. Pulse pounding in her ears, rushing through her like a gale, she ran.

Less than two minutes later, Kagome stood at the base of Goshinboku with a marked frown on her face as she stared at the empty branches. Had she imagined that she had seen someone up there?

Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest branch and hauled herself up. So easy to climb the tree, and she giggled softly as the beauty of the night swirled over her senses. Lost in the very essence of the unspoiled stillness, Kagome forgot what she thought she had seen and sighed.

A sudden flash, a fleeting recollection of a dream or a fantasy, she wasn't sure which . . . She'd known the night. It had been a secret friend to her, allowing her dreams of what she couldn't remember, yet that night . . . Images came and went faster than she could discern them: a man in a black robe; a woman with sad, lonely aura . . . again the streaking silver and crimson, the tiny child with the brilliant green eyes . . .

She sat high in a tree—not this one, but another; a tree far away, masked in the mists of half-forgotten memories. She sat in that leafless tree in the middle of summer, cloaked in crimson arms. They held her steady, unwilling to let her fall. Safe, comfortable, sheltered . . . She glanced down in the memory and saw the hands—human hands, but the hands bore claws, like a cat . . . or a dog. She turned her head to see the man's face—Yes, definitely a man there beside her . . .

Kagome blinked in surprise then snorted out a dry laugh at her own imagination. She'd never been away from home, and certainly didn't climb any dead trees. The world around her in the vision had been unspoiled, fresh, so different from the modern Tokyo she knew so well. Maybe she'd read one too many fables. Or perhaps she was getting fanciful in her old age.

Goshinboku whispered to her in the night. She couldn't understand the words.


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Atop the roof of the shrine, InuYasha huddled in the shadows. Cursing himself for having stooped to this, he couldn't quite bring himself to move away, either. After all was said and done, his damned brother and that double damned kitsune had all but made him swear on his mother's grave that he wouldn't upset Kagome, that he wouldn't remind her who she was or who he was . . . or what she meant to him.

'Fuck them, anyway.' InuYasha stifled a growl low in his throat and dug his claws into the roofing. From where he sat, he could smell Kagome's scent wafting to him. She'd bathed no longer than a few hours ago.  He could smell the soap on her, that foreign floral scent that veiled the baser scent of her. After her baths he tried to avoid going anywhere near her. The scent of those flowers on her warm skin was enough to send his senses into a whirl of heady pleasure that bordered on frustrated longing. How often had he wanted to draw her close, to hold her next to his heart so tightly that she would know what she meant to him, how much she meant to him? Always too worried, with his gaze trained on the shadows, watching for the stirrings of enemies or threats . . . Always a little too reluctant, a little too proud to open himself up, a little too scared that she just didn't feel the same way about him . . . He had never done it. He really wished he had.

He sighed softly. She was so close and yet he dared not go to her. As it was, he had to jump out the second story window of the bedroom at Sesshoumaru's mausoleum he called home. Every time he had gotten near the front door, he'd been caught and duly reprimanded, and his trip across the city?

Somehow he hadn't noticed just how noisy it was, just how confusing it could be, and just how out of place he felt as he'd tried to find his way back to the shrine.  Mindful of the reaction he'd gotten before when he'd get down on his hands and knees, trying to locate scents on the grayish slabs of manmade rocks that they called sidewalks, he'd spent an hour trying to find his way before he'd noticed the postcard on a street vendor's table—the shrine, and he'd grudgingly asked the guy sitting behind the table if he knew where it was.

Damned if he'd realized that it was going to take so much to get used to this time, this city.  Flashing lights that were as bright as daylight . . . the myriad of smells that converged into an indistinguishable stench . . . so many sounds that overlapped each other into a jumble of white noise that culminated in a throbbing behind his temples . . . It all combined in his head to create an overwrought strain on his senses, but somehow the mere proximity to her was enough to alleviate the strain, enough to remind him just why he'd chosen to jump into the well when he had known that there would be no going back . . .

Ears flattening against his skull, InuYasha had to stifle his growl of frustration. Kagura had been livid when she'd gotten home and discovered that InuYasha had unwittingly shattered her collection of crystal animals. Shippou—the ass—had barely been able to hide his own amusement as InuYasha had sat there, dumbstruck, while Kagura brought the roof down on his head with her ranting and raving about his inability to control his temper. He had to admit, however grudgingly, that he was glad that Kagura hadn't had her fan at the time. She was mad enough that she likely would have sent her Fujin no Mai at him for the perceived transgression.

Sesshoumaru, at least, had looked a little sympathetic, or so InuYasha had thought. He hadn't known what to make of that until his bastard of a brother laughed and muttered something about being glad that it was someone else on the receiving end of Kagura's formidable ire.

It was hard to understand, he had to admit. He was used to things he could touch, taste, smell. The implications of Kagome's memory loss were harder to deal with. That the jewel was now dormant and had been purified, as Shippou said, was confusing enough but something that InuYasha could accept. He, himself, knew what Kagome had wished. The low growl that escaped his throat couldn't be helped. Why had she done that? Why had she wished Kikyou back?  The only thing he could think of, though, was his upset after they'd defeated Naraku, as he'd watched as Kikyou was taken away again, leaving him unable to say goodbye to her—again.  Had Kagome misinterpreted it?  Had she thought . . .?

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he muttered as he dug his claws in deeper, resisting the desire to race over to Kagome and demand an answer.  Heaving an abrupt sigh as the anger left him as quickly as it had come, he scowled in the night.  That's exactly what had happened, wasn't it?  Of course, if he were to be completely objective, then he'd have to admit that it wasn't really surprising.  How often had he let her down over Kikyou before . . .? Still . . . It didn't really take away from the bitterness of his own emotions, though, did it?  He reached up to touch the prayer beads and remembered with a sick feeling that he no longer had them.

How could she not remember? For two years, they had spent all their time together. She'd wheedled out his secrets in that time, driven him crazy with her silly antics and often prying ways, even if he had to acknowledge that her heart was always in the right place, even when he'd have rather that she let things alone. In those months, though—that two year time span, she'd taught him how to trust and how to have friends. She showed him how to believe in something greater than himself. She led him to the knowledge that there were beautiful things in the world worth dying for . . . like her.

Kagome.

InuYasha sighed, as the unwelcome intrusion of a painful memory fleshed out in his head.    She had nearly died, the closest she'd come to being lost to him forever.  Worse than a close call or a near miss.  That one time . . . He thought she was dead. Had it not been for Myouga, the flea demon, she would have died. It was one of the few times that InuYasha could remember being truly thankful for the oftentimes useless retainer.

He couldn't remember the first time he had realized how precious Kagome was to him. Now he realized that he'd taken for granted that she would always be there. She'd promised, after all. She'd given her word. He thought that she had known how much he relied on her. He thought that she had known what his feelings were. After all, she always seemed to know what he was thinking, even when he had trouble expressing those feelings.  Hell, Sango and that pervert, Miroku had known.  For that matter, Shippou and Kaede had known, too.  Come to think of it, perfect strangers had figured it out easily enough, so how the fuck could she not have?  Why hadn't Kagome?

He sighed as the girl in question lifted her face heavenward, eyes closed, her chest expanding as she breathed so deeply. The ache in his heart worsened, and he winced as a splinter of roofing slid way up under his claw, piercing his flesh. He dug his claws in more, and the splinter wedged in even deeper. The scent of his own blood hit him hard, and he dragged in the heady scent, savoring it in a wholly primitive, entirely primal, way.

Minutes passed—or were they hours—as he kept his vigil. Kagome made no move to return to the house. She slumped to the side, letting her temple rest against the rough bark. Goshinboku cradled her as InuYasha could only sit back and watch. The tree mocked him, taunted him in the ancient language that InuYasha barely recognized. The arch of her neck glowed with a bluish tint in the kind but wan light of the full moon, and InuYasha breathed deep. The scent of wildflowers had subsided. Instead he smelled the richness of her balmy skin, so pale in the darkness. A shocking wave of rampant lust hit him hard. He groaned softly, digging in his claws again, repressing the overwhelming desire to go to her. She shined brighter than the Shikon no Tama in a cool blue aura of the night that resounded with her miko power. If she had forgotten about him, had she also forgotten about that?

If the past had happened, and the jewel had been purified, why didn't Kagome remember? It made no sense, damn it . . . and why didn't anyone else seem to remember—Kagome's family and so-called friends?  None of them thought that it was strange, either?  They didn't think it was completely fucked up that she'd be dating a weakling like that damned Houjou?  Shippou had sworn that Kagome hadn't missed even a day of school, but how could that possibly be?  He'd heard often enough, hadn't he?  How often had she despaired over missing one test or another, and while InuYasha couldn't rightfully give a damn about those, she certainly had, and, in turn, she'd let him know in no uncertain terms what she thought of his perceived lack of concern over something that meant a lot to her.  Still, Shippou had chosen to be a teacher in hopes that he could cover up Kagome's mysterious absences, but it hadn't been needed. Why?

Leaning back against the attic wall behind him, InuYasha moved Tetsusaiga away from his side and wrapped his arms around the weapon, idly stroking the sword as he continued to stare at Kagome. He could feel his eyes glowing. If she looked his way, would she see him? He willed her to remember, desperately prayed to every god, every entity that he knew or could make up. He wanted to see that smile she reserved just for him, just one last time.

A subtle shift in her scent drew him upright. InuYasha frowned. Kagome hadn't moved at all since she leaned against the tree, but the scent that came to him now moved him forward out of the shadows as he quietly leaped down and then up into Goshinboku. It was a scent that he knew only too well after two years.

She slept.

"Kagome," he murmured softly, leaning forward to breathe in her scent. His nose nearly touched her hair. Luckily, though, after spending so much time with her, he also knew that once sleeping, not much outside of a minor act of the kami would wake her, either.

He settled back on the branch and carefully pulled Kagome into his arms, settling her head against his chest. Common sense told him that he should take her back to her room, but after everything that he'd been through in the course of one day, InuYasha didn't quite have it inside him to relinquish his hold on her yet.

He wrapped his arms around her, the long arms of his haori serving as a blanket for her. She sighed happily in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. A low growl escaped him, and he blinked almost guiltily as he glanced down at the sleeping girl in his arms. She didn't even flinch.

InuYasha held her close until the damp chill of the predawn air permeated his senses. In a couple of hours, it would be daylight, and Kagome would be waking up for real. There was no help for it, he supposed as he stifled the urge to sigh and gathered her into his arms. He lit on the ground and quickly jumped again, landing neatly on the ledge outside her window. Thanking his luck that she had left it open, InuYasha carefully maneuvered her through the opening.

She didn't stir as he laid her on her bed and dragged her covers up to her chin. He cocked his head to the side and smiled slightly as he watched her expression. Then he sank down on the floor beside the bed and folded his hands together on the coverlet, letting his chin fall onto them as he watched over her. He'd done this every night. In the two years that they'd been near constant companions, it had become second nature to him, to watch over her, to protect her, first as the miko who guarded the Shikon no Tama, and later . . . to protect Kagome—the woman—instead.

When the first red fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, InuYasha sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her.  If he had his way about it, he'd sit down again and wait for her to wake up.  If it hadn't made that damned promise . . . Well, if he couldn't do what he wanted to do, maybe he'd go back to the mansion and pick a fight with someone instead.  It wasn't exactly the better of the options, but given his current mood, it might be the most fulfilling . . . Pausing with his hands on either side of the window frame, he spared a moment to look back at the sleeping girl.  'Remember me, Kagome,' he thought with a marked scowl.  'Remember me soon.'  After a deep breath, he let himself out of the window and started out at a run through the shrine grounds.


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A/ N:

Fujin
no Mai: Dance of Blades (Eng): Kagura's basic wind blade attack.

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Purity): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~