– direct thoughts of character –
GAÏA
I. Reacquaintance
Kagome was bored. Really, really bored. Not quite to death yet, but she could feel the possibility dragging her down. She did have a naturally sunny personality, but the fact that she had barely slept 4 hours the previous night wasn't helping her. Stifling a jaw-splitting yawn, she attempted to rekindle a spark of interest towards the stage below. Her annoyance flared.
They had it all wrong.
The play was – supposedly – a re-enactment of obscure Japanese tales. Yōkai tales. Well, not exactly, but most of them did have yōkai. The exact title of the play was "Ancient Japanese Tales Of The Feudal Times".
But they had it all wrong.
She could tell now that the current tale was about Inuyasha's brother – errr, half-brother, but never mind – and his quest to find a legendary sword – duh! the guy obviously had sucky hobbies – accompanied by his loyal servant, a fearsome (gag) dragon … !
The very idea of Jaken, with his bulging eyes, small beak and, well, toad-like appearance as a fearsome DRAGON was simply ludicrous.
Of course, the worst was his master, Sesshōmaru. According to the actor's interpretation, the Great Lord was a proud – at least they got that right – and compassionate (*insert hysteric giggles here*) yōkai with an unfortunate weakness for.. women… How the arrogant, cold and heartless aristocratic assassin could be so humiliated was almost hilarious. Why, it looked like over the time his character had been mixed with Miroku's perverted one !
Still, the amusement provided distracted her slightly from the raw, jagged and so, so familiar pain.
Taking a firm breath, which was more of a desperate gulp of air, really, she plastered a cheerful, and I'm-really-enjoying-this-thank-you-so-much-for-inviting-me-here smile on her face, before turning to her neighbour.
Who was staring at her with a dreamy look.
ﺺ
He still couldn't believe that she had accepted his date, and was sitting right next to him. She looked so beautiful, her thick inky hair clasped in a demure bun, clothed in a flowering yellow knee-length skirt with a pastel blue blouse ! Her wide, expressive eyes, which were intently following the actors on scene, crinkled slightly in mirth at something – he couldn't be bothered to follow the dialogues, not with her sitting so close. His eyes greedily traced her high cheekbone, full lips, the slender curve of her white neck. Her chest rose when she inhaled sharply, and he followed the movement with fascination, lost in a daze.
From the corner of his vision, he vaguely registered that she was turning towards him, a smile on her lips. Embarrassed at being caught staring, and a little angry at the interruption, he blushed and hastily redirected his attention to the stage.
ﺺ
Kagome narrowed her eyes dangerously, sorely tempted to vent her temper on the diminutive, blundering idiot who had been staring at her breasts. She should have been used to it by now, she knew. She was not excessively beautiful, but she was the pretty, homely-looking type guys seem to enjoy dating (and marrying ?) and she had an air of naïve innocence that drew them in. She'd even have a certain success with yōkai, for Kami's sake ! Not that she risked meeting any, now…
When she'd had sufficiently recovered from the well's sealing, and the loss of what she considered her second family, she had frantically attempted to find one of her friend – anyone !
Days of browsing the deep recesses of the web – and a few unfortunate stuff seared in her memory –, scanning stupid yōkai legends, websites, names, pictures – everything.
After two months of fruitless research, she had reached a blank. She had found legends about her quest, the Jewel, Sesshōmaru, Midoriko, a few obscure references to their group maybe… but the facts were so twisted, the characters of these tales lost to time…
She had realized that nobody would remember Inuyasha's tentative, fragile smile, her own brave hanyō protector, so rash and always quick to anger, but quicker still to defend his friends, no matter how much he bickered and complained. Nobody to remember Miroku's, the monk's, lecherous hand, Sango's chatter as they relaxed in the hot springs, or Shippō's screaming mushrooms. How she missed the little yōkai who was almost her son, his reassuring warmth when she slept, his happy laughter and childish exuberance.
Only her.
She was the only one left to hold those memories.
Even her family couldn't understand it. She bore their 'understanding' – more like pitying, really – looks bravely, doing her best to hide the frozen emptiness inside her, its jagged points tearing at her skin, at her heart and soul. She hid the terrible feeling of not belonging.
Eventually, she graduated, a feat she managed only thanks to her insomnia, the long nights spent studying. She'd figured if she crammed every moment with work, she would finally stop thinking. The memories of what had been, what she had lost, haunted her still, taunted her with the promise of lost possibilities.
She had always been studious, but she became single-mindedly scholarly. Her friends gradually drifted away. She was glad for this, they knew too much – or not enough – and their presence held too many memories.
Shaking herself mentally from the well-trod path of thought, she concluded her internal chronicle with a wry pat on the head for her cultural anthropology and folklore diploma. After all, might as well put those years spent trudging through the Warring States period in feudal Japan to good use... Her colleagues would've had a fit if only they knew they'd had a direct witness under their nose all this time !
Assuming they'd believe her, that is...
This is my first fanfiction, please be gentle !
I'm open to all and any constructive criticism.
I do not, of course, own any of these characters, which are property of Rumiko Takahashi.
Much love,
~ LittleKatt