In Passing

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. All original characters do not belong to me and all credit goes towards Rumiko Takahashi.

A/N: Hello, everyone! This story will be written entirely in first person POV. I hope you enjoy! Warning: The characters may or may not be OOC. This is a whole new thing I'm trying to bear with me.

This fic is rated M for language, sexual scenes, and suggestive content. If you are not 18+, read at your own risk.

Chapter One

"The Problem"

Ghosts.

They're everywhere.

They frequent our schools, our parks, and even our homes. Not to mention, they're known to wander around abandoned parts of our city. It's been said a ghost that becomes attracted to a living being's 'light' can even physically attach itself to that person and take over their body. It really is quite an unsettling thought.

Unfortunately, hardly anyone here believes in the supernatural.

Except for me.

My name is Kagome Higurashi.

Yes, that's right.

Hi-gur-a-shi.

You may have heard that name before. Well, my grandfather is the owner of this fairly popular shrine my family resides in located on the tallest hill in Tokyo. We sometimes have people coming from all over Japan just to come see the shrine itself. Personally, I believe they come just to see the shrine's most famous landmark, Goshinboku. The Sacred Tree has been in our shrine for generations and is the oldest living tree in all of Tokyo. My grandfather especially takes pride in it, telling all sorts of tales from the past that some how all took place around this tree. To be honest, some of his stories sound completely ludicrous but I can't blame him for wanting to spice up the place with some fabricated history. Lately, business hasn't been so great and I believe it is really starting to take a toll on him. He hardly ever smiles anymore.

Sadly, I think our streak of misfortune is my own doing.

You see, when I reached the age of eight, I noticed I possessed abilities that no one else could explain. Not that anyone really has taken the time to understand anyway. As a matter of fact, I've been constantly ridiculed for it ever since I made the mistake of telling people what I can do or much rather see. You could call it a sixth sense or what ever you see fit. I just call it my own personal hell.

I am clairaudient; that's a fancy way of saying that I can see ghosts.

Not only am I able to see them, I can interact with them as well. As a young girl, I was taught to treat everyone with the utmost respect and I always assumed that meant even the non-living since they technically counted as a person at one point. Hey, don't get me wrong; it's not as if I go and talk to every spirit I happen to run into and I say that metaphorically. Not all spirits I've come in contact with are able to speak anyway.

There are several different types of supernatural beings. The most common are but are not limited to: residual, crisis, trapped, or vengeful. Thankfully, I have not run into any of the latter and I pray that I never will. I've read nearly all of the reports on those, they're not the type of entity you want to trifle with. Call me obsessed but ever since I've been dubbed a "cursed delinquent" by my peers, I have nothing but free time on my hands. You can't blame a gal for wanting to learn her stuff.

Anyway, my clairaudience came at a price. My social life is totally in the dumps at school and at home. My family completely avoids me if they can help it. It's like they all came to an agreement one day when I wasn't around; if they don't talk about it, the problem doesn't exist. You think that's a terrible way of thinking, don't you? It's a part of life. Plenty of people avoid subjects that make them uncomfortable. Some call it cowardly, they call it their little dose of tranquility.

"That's the Higurashi way," I remember Grandfather saying one night during supper. Although, the issue at hand at the time had to do with unpaid bills. That's one dirty little secret we Higurashi folk keep under our hats. Honestly, I'm surprised we haven't had our lights turned off yet.

My kid brother, Sota, barely even lets me talk to him for more than ten seconds before he's hurrying towards his room and slamming the door. I have to admit, I never quite got used to the cold shoulder from him. I mean, he's my brother. He's supposed to stick by me through thick and thin. Isn't that what being a sibling was all about? Sure, we would fight but that's what siblings do. We weren't supposed to completely despise each other.

My mother works two jobs to support my brother and I while we go to school and since the shrine isn't getting enough customers these days, she's having to work twice as hard just to put food on the table. I feel terrible she has that burden on her shoulders. Ever since father passed away, she's been doing nothing but burying her nose in her work.

I remember the first few years being exceptionally hard on her. I would wake up in the middle of the night to her sobbing in the next room over. She would stifle her sobs as soon as she heard my timid knocks on the door and shoo me away. There were times when I forced my way into her room anyway only to be met by haunted, bloodshot eyes.

I would walk over to her bed side and without another word, she would gather me in her arms and kiss my hair. I would feel her body shake violently from silent sobs as she sniffled and rested her chin at the top of my head. That would only make me tighten my hold around her torso as I tried my best to comfort her. And we would stay that way until she assured me she would be alright and send me off to my room.

I didn't dare tell her that father was there and that every night, he would be at her bedside listening to her as she called to him and wished he would come back. His ghostly pale hand resting atop her head and gently patting her even though she would never feel his touch. I would always look to him over her shoulder and he would give me that same sad smile that never failed to make my heart wrench painfully in my chest. That was years ago, yet I can't seem to shake my guilt every time I look at her.

I couldn't tell her.

.

.

I looked up at the off-white ceiling of my bedroom and sighed. I sat up and threw the pink satin covers off of my body and extended my arms over my head, stretching as I let out a small yawn. The morning sun's peach rays shone through my curtained window, changing the hue of my room to a light orange-yellow. I glanced over at my clock with half-lidded eyes.

Huh, it's already 7 o'clock. I blinked tiredly before realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh crap, it's already seven! I'm going to be late for school!" Jumping out of bed, I rushed out of the room and sprinted down the hallway. I cursed to myself as I saw Sota already heading into the washroom and shutting the door behind him. I waited for a second while tapping my foot before I spoke up.

"Hey, Sota? Will you be done soon? I really need to brush my teeth."

I heard him mumble something that sounded like 'fuck off' behind the door before the water turned on. I rolled my eyes and pivoted on my heel towards my room. He always hogged the bathroom first thing in the morning. I never understood why. I grabbed my school uniform which consisted of a white and green sailor top and a red neck tie with a matching green, pleated skirt. I had to admit, I always thought this uniform was quite gaudy but at least it showed off one good attribute about me; my legs.

I stripped and looked at the full length mirror that was hanging on my bedroom door.

My hips are a bit wide but my breasts are pretty full so I guess that's balanced out. Although, I turned around and looked over my shoulder at my backside and frowned.

This is a bit on the big side too. How embarrassing. I turned back around and ran my hands down my chest and over my stomach and blushed slightly, stopping before I reached my waist. I did this routine once a week, where I picked out what I liked best and least about myself. I never had one thing I liked the most about myself, ever. I guess that's just a given when you're a teenage girl. Nothing ever looks right.

I get the majority of my looks from my mom, of course. But there are some things I've gotten from my father as well. I have his chestnut-brown eyes according to Grandpa but I have my mother's pearly white smile. I shook my head as I hurriedly got dressed. I paused for a second before looking back at the mirror.

Ah, why not? I hiked my skirt up a little higher than normal and did a little twirl.

Perfect.

I ran a brush through my hair and rushed out of my room and into the bathroom, almost colliding into Sota on his way out. He gave me a nasty look that I pretended not to see as I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face. The warm water felt great on my skin and I smiled in contentment as I quickly dried off and made my way downstairs.

"Sota, dear. Please hurry up, you're going to be late for school." My mother called from the foot of the stairs before making brief eye contact with me.

She turned and walked towards the kitchen and waved a hand for me to follow her. I furrowed my brow slightly but I obeyed and sat in the chair she motioned towards. I grabbed a piece of toast off of the center plate and began to munch on it quietly while I waited for her to speak. My mother and I had a somewhat strained relationship now. She spoke to me more often than Grandpa or Sota did but I could tell she was always uncomfortable while doing so. It was simple things like facial expressions and body language that always led me to believe she'd rather be anywhere else than where she was when speaking to me.

She cleared her throat.

"How was your appointment last night, dear?" I heard her ask timidly while she placed a cup of fresh tea down in front of me. I looked up and studied her face. She was looking away at the television while fumbling with some decorations on the table. I swallowed my piece of toast and gave a small snort.

Of course.

Oh, I forgot to mention one important fact. My family's way of coping with my unique trait is to send me to counseling every week. They feel like my "delusions" are simply happening from the shock of losing my father. I know this isn't true but no matter what I say, they never listen. They even tried to put me on medication for it. I pretend to take it for my mother's sake but truthfully, I haven't taken a single thing since it was prescribed to me.

I inadvertently rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, a stance I knew would irritate my mother. She hated when I didn't behave "like a lady" at the dinner table.

"Unnecessary." I deadpanned before taking another bite of toast, completely ignoring the tea. My mom shot a disapproving look over in my direction and shifted in her seat, her fingers clenching over the lacy tablecloth.

"Kagome, you say that every time I ask you. Why can't you give me a real answer?" She murmured, her head shaking slightly.

"That is a real answer, mama." I replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

It was like we were a broken record. The same situation would happen and the same words would be said but we never went beyond that. Truth be told, I didn't mind it. There was less to be said and I liked it that way. Picking up the cup, I took a small sip of tea and grimaced.

Medicine, figures. I put the cup down and made a move to stand when I felt a soft hand rest upon my own. Looking up, I saw my mom with tears welling in her eyes and my heart sunk.

"What's wrong, mama?" I asked, concern etching its way into my voice. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something but thought better of it and shook her head. She removed her hand quickly as if I'd just pinched her and quickly rubbed her eyes. I walked over to her side of the table and leaned down to hug her, only for her to quickly jump up and walk over to the kitchen sink.

"If you don't hurry, you're going to miss your train. You should go."

Her voice was harsh almost void of any emotion. I stared at her back as she fumbled with imaginary dishes in the sink and dropped my hand down by my side. This is what happened every time we strayed away from our routine. She would rather busy herself with other chores than have a heart-to-heart with me. I sighed and made my way to our back door and put my shoes on. I didn't bother grabbing the bento my mother had prepared for me. I never ate at school anyway.

"Alright, I'm going." I said lamely, looking over my shoulder at my mother still standing at the sink though her hands had stopped their frantic movements.

She nodded her head once and headed towards our backroom, more than likely to wake up Grandfather.

I slid the door closed and headed towards the shrine entrance.

Goshinboku: Sacred Tree

Clairaudience: The ability to communicate with ghosts

A/N: So I'm going to admit that I really didn't know how to end this chapter because it was going to be way longer but think of it as a type of "pilot" chapter if you will. I wanted to introduce Kagome in my own way. Tell me how you guys like it so far! R&R. I will be editing this chapter in the future.