I do not own Inuyasha and Co., nor do I make any money out of this. Inuyasha is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi. The idea for the plot used here, however, is solely mine.
- sunkissedemerald.
Four Seasons
By sunkissedemerald
Part 1
Summer
A pair of brown eyes peeked from behind the thick, green foliage. The birds chirped in their sunny post, and the crickets harmonized with them to create nature's strange cacophony. It was an unusually warm summer day, the air heavy with perfume from the blossoming summer profusion – an explosion of yellows, pinks, oranges, and reds. Not too far from where the girl watched silently, a very fat cat lounged at the base of a great tree. A dragonfly flittered just beyond the cat's nose, rousing the cat from its stupor – its stubby arms reaching into the great tree's trunk just to miss the sparkly, buzzing nuisance. The great tree, otherwise known as the Goshinboku, stood stately against a backdrop of the more traditional Japanese Shinto shrine. It was said that the Goshinboku has been part of the shrine long before the introduction of the Higurashi family to the ecclesiastic way of life.
A small pair of hands began fumbling amongst the leaves of the brush, behind which the owner of the little hands was crouched. The sun had reached its zenith, its rays most potent as it penetrated even the thickest undergrowth. The heat was stifling, and however much little Kagome wanted to win the game of hide-and-seek she was playing with her two-year-old brother, she just couldn't stand the sweaty, itchy feeling from basking too much in the sun.
"Mou! Souta-chan! It's so hot!" Kagome called out one more time for her brother, but upon receiving no answer, promptly made her way back to the house.
A few steps from the door, she paused, hesitating, if you may. She had torn her brand new skirt and soiled her favorite girlie shoes, and she wasn't too sure if Mama would be pleased about her state of grubbiness. Determinedly rubbing against a stain in her once-pristine white shirt, her face took on a stubborn pose, her mouth decidedly set in a line, and her nose wrinkled. To her surprise, the door burst open, and a slender woman with Kagome's eyes stepped out the door.
Squealing, Kagome quickly retreated, her face in her hands when a hand shot to prevent any further movement.
Caught by the hem of her shirt – she struggled and strained towards whichever direction, saying, "MamaIdidn'tmeantobuttiwassohotKagomeissorry!"
"Kagome!" – thus effectively putting an end to the child's struggling.
Pouting, Kagome slowly turned to face her mother, her arms crossed in a futile yet endearingly child-like attempt to look adult. The lady surveyed the mass of tangled ebony hair, the grubby state of brand new clothes, and the dirtied face that was freshly scrubbed not too long before.
A hand reached out and Kagome's eyes clenched shut – a moment passed, and all was quiet, but nothing.
Opening her eyes, she saw her mother smiling at her, a leaf held in her hand.
Her resolve crumbling, she threw herself into her mother's arms, crying, weeping.
"Oh, Kagome…"
"Kagome sorry, Mama! Kagome-chan will behave next time."
"Kagome, didn't I tell not to go out alone?"
"…wasn't alone," came the muffled reply. "Kagome was with Papa the entire time."
The lady stiffened, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. Drawing the shaking form of the child towards herself, patting Kagome's small back, hoping to alleviate the pain of loss, the grief, the longing, the empty ache that each felt.
A pair of brown eyes – clouded, shielded – gazed silently out into the dark, moonless night. The normally cheery forest just beyond the shrine perimeter stood foreboding, eerily devoid of activity. It had rained hard the late afternoon, muting life's symphony – no crickets chirruping, no frogs croaking, no owl hooting. It was unusual, and Kagome wondered what could have put off her nighttime friends.
It was unusual, yet oddly comforting. It gave her a sense of peace – a pause in time.
The shadows cast by the Goshinboku shifted shapes, forming images and creatures mastered only by Kagome's will and imagination, and yet – it did not frighten her. Her hand lazily drew circles on the wooden sill of her window, slowly, slowly, deliberately, circling.
For the nth time, Kagome looked up into the night sky devoid of starlight. It was a cloudy night, and the clouds seemed to refuse to move to give way to some starlight.
Sandman had come and sprinkled his magic dust upon the prone form of the girl – her eyelids began to droop, and her hand drop from the window sill to her side where it lay unmoving. Her head started to fall to the side –
Kagome started. She didn't want to fall asleep yet. Not yet, not yet.
She lifted her hand to the window sill, setting herself once more on an upright position. Keeping her fingers crossed, the little girl with clouded eyes looked up into the night sky, waiting, hoping for some starlight.
In the darkness, a sad, little girl waited to catch a falling star.
It had been two weeks – two, long, agonizing, sleepless weeks of no starlight.
Little Kagome was not sleeping very well at night, and her mother worried for her health. Already, the little girl had contacted a severe cold and a slight fever, but her mother was powerless to convince the little girl to sleep.
Her two-year old brother was worried for his nee-chan as well, although perhaps, he was incapable of voicing it. Little Souta clung to his mother, repeatedly saying in broken phrases, "Nee-chan? Kag-o-me Nee-chan?"
In her bed, with pink, ruffled comforters, and fluffly pillows, Kagome lay weakly. Her fists were curled into small fists, while her eyes shone bright with fever. Valiantly, she fought against the Sandman's greater powers – she couldn't sleep. Not yet, not yet.
A knock from the other side of the door called Kagome back from her fever-induced stupor. An small, old man in traditional Japanese garbs strode in.
"Grandpa?"
"Kagome-chan – you should be resting."
"No, Grandpa, Kagome does not rest yet."
"But how is my little granddaughter supposed to get better as soon as she can, if she refuses to rest?"
"Kagome has to stay up. The clouds are stubborn, Grandpa. Make them go away with your magic."
The old man, upon hearing Kagome's comment, smiled to himself. He shuffled to his granddaughter's bedside and seated himself on the little space left on the bed.
"Grandpa, the clouds are stubborn."
"Sometimes, Kagome, when the light seems to overtaken by the dark, you have to look to somewhere else to find what you're looking for," the old man said gently.
Kagome's face scrunched up in concentration, her brows drawn together in concentration.
"Kagome can find the stars somewhere else, Grandpa?" Kagome asked wonderingly.
"Perhaps, my dear," the old man chuckled.
"And Kagome can catch a falling star too?"
At this, the old man sobered, and was quiet for a moment.
"Maybe," the old man replied, a gentle smile upon his face.
"So, Kagome can catch a falling star even with the stubborn clouds?"
The old man's smile faltered a moment, and sadness seems writ across his features – but it was only a moment. Kagome's eyes widened a fraction upon seeing the odd look – a sad look she never saw on her grandpa before.
"Grandpa, don't be sad."
Kagome threw her small arms around her grandfather's waist, her face buried in his chest. She didn't want to see that look again. She'd do all she could to make it go away. She didn't want to see it.
In room of a profusion of colors, a little girl determined that she would do all that she could.