My Only Fear

There he goes again.

I can't bear it. You'd think after all this time I'd be used to it; it's not like I don't deal with it every day. But I'm not used to it. Being around it doesn't make me numb, it just makes me hate it all the more. It just makes it all the worse.

I groan, knowing what will follow all too well.

First the tension. It lies in the ground, the sky, the very air I breathe, thickening and swirling and ripening, a chill crawling up my spine that won't go away. Next the very sky darkens, both a reflection of and an addition to the foreboding that's fallen over me. Sometimes the wind picks up too, whipping around me like the first gusts of a tornado, although I know all these things aren't natural; they're demonic versions, the clouds jyaki and shouki, the wind the flare of youki.

Then his nose twitches; his ears shift, alert; he can sense the approach long before I can. I, in my schoolgirl way, would normally find it unbearably cute; Kami knows how I coo over those ears of his; but now I just get more tense, more worried. His movements are just further proof that a fight is coming, like the youki and jyaki from before.

Then the adversary is in view, and yet still I cling to the hope that, somehow, this doesn't mean a confrontation. But of course I'm wrong.

And so it starts.

The many snarls of fury and derision, the intimidating barks, the low dangerous growl permeating and intensifying the animosity rampant throughout. They crash in on me, one by one, aggressive and unforgiving, but it is not them that I fear.

The banter and insults bounce back and forth, threatening and tense, the dialog constant despite the action. The curses are repulsive, the insults graphic, but they do not inspire my unease, my terrible fear.

Even the ringing clash of swords, the loud thumps and thuds as he leaps and falls don't shock or intimidate me, can't get me scared.

But the nauseating stench of sweat and blood, the sight of the opponent and the near misses, the grunts of pain and sick sound of torn flesh. They bring the taste of terror blazing through me, bitter with despair and sour with worry and sickeningly sweet with desperate hope and salty with nervous sweat all at once; too much for me to deal with.

Oh, Kami, I want so badly to look away, just close my eyes and not see any of it any more, as if I can somehow get away, as if I can keep it from being real by not seeing. But I can't close my eyes, can't drag my gaze away. I can't do anything; only watch.

The horror and terror slowly fill me, until I am brimming with them, incapable of action beyond staring, incapable of thought beyond 'Oh Kami let him be all right…'

And then, just when I feel I might faint from the strength of my fears, and welcome it, desperate for any escape, it is over.

It is done.

Relief takes hold quickly; the end at last! ; I'm giddy with it. But soon worry tempers it: Is he ok? Was he injured? How badly?

I tend to his wounds as dutifully as I do because only by being so close to him can I begin to let go of my fear, despite all his gruff assurances.

'Keh, I'm fine wench,' he says- but I don't believe it till I can see it up close with my own two eyes, feel him, strong and alive, under my hands as I check for injury or attend to the ones already there.

My mama doesn't hear the half of my adventures because I know she'd be unduly terrified for my safety. She can't understand how safe Inuyasha makes me feel, how far from danger I am with him; I know that he will always protect me.

My only fear is that he will not protect himself.

A/N: Yes, I know I should be updating existing stories. And I tried to, I swear I did. It was as I had my pen to paper for Chapter 7 of I'm Listening that this spilled out instead. I haven't got a clue where it came from- the idea of her worrying about him as he fought has been bobbing around my head as a potential poem for about a week now, but I never meant it to come out like this. Honestly, I didn't plan for it to come out at all. It just did. Hope you guys like it anyway.