A/n: I really shouldn't have started this. I know that. But I promised I'd write this fic. a long time ago. Don't expect this to be updated often, ok? Another note - the first chapters will be rather angsty, but the romantic comedy part WILL kick in, I swear. I hope you enjoy.
Disclamer: I do not own Inuyasha.
He was curled on his side on his bed, eyes red from crying, skin gray in the dim lighting of the room, as he gazed lifelessly at the piece of paper he held clenched in his hand, a horrible lurching, uncomfortable feeling growing steadily in his stomach, as his fingers shook in just the slightest, his eyes roving over the object without seeing it, everything wavering in his tear hazed sight.
He just felt so tired. So empty.
He shivered, and pushed his head against his pillow, momentarily closing his eyes, trying to ignore the heart wrenching sobs that sounded from the next room over, feeling just so lost even in a place he knew so well.
He had thought they had been stronger than this.
That Ojii-san had been stronger than this.
He sniffled a little at this thought, as the images of that ever pretentious old man flashed behind his closed eyelids, causing him to force them back open, to gaze back upon the paper, with a frown.
He didn't understand. He probably never would.
Ojii-san had always been eccentric. There was no other word for it. The multiple jars of 'pickled youkai' that had always resided in his storehouses, the odd artifacts that were strewn throughout his house, the fact that he lived on a shrine…
It had all screamed 'senile old man' and of an obsessive fondness for well… oddities.
So he supposed, deep down, that the list shouldn't have been such a big surprise.
Rolling onto his stomach, rubbing his left eye as he did so, he skimmed the page for perhaps the tenth time, barely taking in the familiar scrawl that covered the surface, tracing one of the hiragana with his thumb.
Names. The paper was covered in names, smothered in his names. That and tear and food stains.
He... he had always thought that Ojii-san had been a little too friendly for his own good. But the list in his hand was overwhelming, and intimidating, if not in the slightest amusing.
But the names, and numbers…
And he was expected to contact every single one of them? He was only 15. Why couldn't have asked his sister…
She still didn't know that… that…
Tears prickled in his eyes again, which he fought back, with a blink.
No more crying.
With a small moan, he rolled off his bed with a loud thud, hitting the ground sharply, wincing as his elbow struck the bed frame. But at least the pain was something… however the numb feeling that had begun the day before was still present
Getting to his feet with nothing more than a small hiss of frustration, he straightened and caught sight of himself in his mirror.
Nothing more than a gangly, ordinary dark haired teenage boy, with dark shadows under his lifeless red puffy eyes, and a dark frown hovering on his face.
His eyes fell again to the list, as he sniffled once again. Over and over he read the names, sometimes out loud, sometimes to himself, repeating them like a mantra, something to catch himself with, support himself with, as he stood there, lost in a trance like state of emptiness.
He had promised.
With a shaky hint of an almost smile, rubbing again at his eyes, he smoothed out the wrinkled page as he dialed the 1st number, waiting as the droll ringing of a phone so far away met his ears.
But of course. He supposed in its own twisted way it made sense.
Clearing his throat, he passed a hand over his sore eyes and sighed as he was redirected to voice message.
Of course his grandfather's last request had to have been something as odd as this.
Creating a list of those of whom to invite to his shrine for his own funeral…
It was just like him.
A/n: I'll be posting chapter one right away... I'm having a lot of fun with this story ^.^' Thank you for reading! (in case you were wondering, that was indeed Souta Higurashi who began the story for us... I suprisingly like writing with his perspective.
Review please?