Author's Note: A bit more nothingness. Set after the black miko Tsubaki episode and Inuyasha turning youkai, but still fairly early in the timeline. Reviews, comments, suggestions, corrections appreciated!
She Says it's Okay
I don't know what's wrong with her. Sometimes I think there's something loose in her head. Sometimes even I wonder if there's really nothing behind that bright smile and flippant statement that everything's "fine". I've learned, the hard way, that that's girl speak, secret female code, for "my life is shit, and it's your fault".
Miroku, for all his perverted ways, maybe because of those ways, is pretty fluent in girl speak. He can decipher things that would be mysteries to most men.
Because he can also misconstrue the female body language—leaning over to pull the pot off the fire, in his language, means 'touch my butt'; turning to show the female profile is an invitation to 'rub my breasts'—I've learned to take what the monk has to say with a grain of salt.
But there's something different about Kagome Higurashi. Something so different I wonder what's wrong with her. I know she's not dumb—she spends enough time worrying about those damned 'tesuto' things she goes back to her world for, and she learns fast enough. Herbs and medicines from Kaede, Buddhist ceremonies and rituals from Miroku, how to track youkai from Sango.
So she's not stupid. Even if I tell her she is sometimes. Even I know that's just a cover. Thinking about her, thinking about how she makes me feel, is too hard. Too scary. Too complicated. With Kikyou and everything, how am I supposed to deal with all this? I'm not as old as they might think I am, and I spent the last fifty years as good as dead. So if I'm pissy when they treat me like I should 'know better', it's not my fault.
I don't know what her problem is, then, but she says it's okay.
Sometimes she's lying. It's that "everything's fine" syndrome, when nothing's really fine. But sometimes she means it. I can tell. It's the tone of her voice, the touch of her hand, the tilt of her head. It's in the way her eyes stay on mine, and her words are soft when she says my name. When she says, It's okay, Inuyasha. I understand.
I've killed humans. When Miroku and I were caught by that damn moth last month, the time I transformed because I'd gotten poisoned and lost Tessaiga, I slaughtered those bandits. I don't remember none of it; by the time I came around, Sesshoumaru'd kicked my ass—again—and I could see the fear on Miroku and Sango and Shippou's faces. Hell, I could smell it off them, and the kitsune was shaking so hard I thought he'd rattle every last hair off his body. Didn't take youkai vision to see that.
They couldn't trust me. They'd seen it in me, my inner demon. The beast.
But Kagome was waiting there on the banks of the river when I sloshed out. The smell hurt—the blood and guts and stench of human flesh on my claws. I couldn't remember, and even though I've searched my mind, I don't carry the burden of memory. I guess I'm grateful for that. I don't know what I'd do if I could remember any of it. Kagome never speaks of it, but Miroku told me everything, in exchange for me not ripping him to shreds the last time I caught him sneaking peeks at Kagome and Sango in the hot springs.
He said the bandits had begged. He said they'd knelt at my feet and begged for mercy. He said I killed them where they knelt. He told me I was smiling when I ripped their heads off.
Kagome said she understood. She said it's okay.
I didn't need her towel, and I didn't need her damn sympathy. I'm stronger than that, I should be better than that.
All I need is her. So it seems.
She hugged me, hurt for me. I understand. Does she really? I don't want to ask, because I don't really want to know. But at that moment, under the stars, with the smell of human blood on my hands, on my clothes, with the guilt and the weight of my friends' distrust, I'd like to think she meant it. She stayed by my side, through it all. Just like she promised.
And we just ran into that black miko, Tsubaki, who tried to take over Kagome's body. It hurt, standing in Kaede's hut, waiting for Sango and Miroku to hurt her down and break the curse, and turning around to find Kagome aiming her arrow straight at my heart. The fact that her aim isn't perfect isn't the point. It was the situation. Damn Naraku, he thinks he can get me that way.
But what hurt was knowing that Kagome hurt just as much, if not more. She knew I hurt, so she hurt for me. Gods. I don't deserve someone like her.
Afterwards, carrying her on my back, looking for the nearest village so Miroku could 'purify' the local lord's house in exchange for one night of luxury and futons for the humans, a good night's sleep for everyone to regain their strength, it was enough just for her to be safe. Just for her to be alive.
I'm sorry, Kagome…For always putting you in danger. Just by being with me…
It's okay, she'd said. She'd meant it. Even slumped over my back, her head on my shoulder, I knew she meant every word. I'm with you because I like it.
I know she doesn't mean she likes the fighting, the worry, the curses and bloodshed and traps and dangers. I know she doesn't like bathing in cold streams in the open, sleeping in that stupid zipper bag of hers on the hard ground, shivering in the morning cold, eating Miroku's strange ideas of 'dinner', traveling exhausted and weary and worried. I know damn well she doesn't like my sniping and crassness. But damned if I'll change. Even for her.
Not my fault that damn shit-eating wolf can't keep his hands to himself. Or if the kitsune just asks for a beating. If he tries to drill through my skull with his top one more time…
No, she doesn't like any of that. She likes cuddling with Shippou as they drowse under her blankets, likes talking with Sango in the bath, listening to Miroku's more child-friendly tales of his travels. She once told me she likes the feeling when I carry her, and we jump through the trees. Says it's like flying. And she admitted once that she likes looking up into the trees before she goes to sleep and seeing me sitting there. Like a sentinel, she said, whatever the hell that is.
A guardian, she said with that smile of hers. The one that makes me feel like I'm melting inside, and not in the way Sesshoumaru's poison claws made me 'melt'. This is like…honey, or that apple pie stuff her mom made once. It's a good kind of melting.
A guardian to watch over me, she told me, with that damn blush of hers. The one that makes me feel like I'm drowning, but I don't care that I can't breathe anymore. My own night guard, dark and watchful and brooding.
I'm not a damn guard dog, but I don't mind looking after her, looking out for her. If she likes it when I stay up to watch over her when she sleeps, then that's what I'll do. If she likes being with me—us—here—then that's good enough for me. If she understands, or even if she doesn't, she's staying, because she said she would.
I don't know why, I don't care.
As long as she says it's okay…then I'm okay, too.