A/N: Hello all! I decided to go back and upload this as a web page so the italics would actually show up this time… The story will make more sense this time. ^_~ This was my first fanfic, so I decided not to change anything.
Torn
WindSprite
The leaves in the tree in which he was sitting rustled together with the slight breeze, creating a relaxing sound. The gentle sound, however, did nothing to ease a certain hanyou's mind. He shifted his position on the tree limb so that his head was resting against the tall trunk of the tree.
His thoughts were anything from peaceful. In fact, an internal war seemed to be progressing through his mind.
Today was the one year anniversary of the day he met Kagome… and the fifty-first anniversary of the day Kikyou had pinned him to that tree with her arrow and the sleeping spell. Ironic that the two events that had altered his life so drastically would be on the same day. The two women who had affected his life so greatly seemed to be playing a tug of war with his mind.
Kikyou or Kagome?
This same thought had plagued him for what seemed like eternity now, but even more so on this day. On one hand, Kikyou had been the first—and for a time, only—woman he had every loved… her calm, steady way of going through life; her gentle, albeit slightly cynical laugh; her smoky grey eyes; her steadfast dedication to protect the Shikon Jewel and her village. . . . Try as he might to push these feelings aside, he could not totally forget her.
Kagome. . . . .
The two may have shared a soul, but Kagome was Kikyou's opposite in every way. She never seemed to lack energy, even when it meant trekking through another forest or halfway across the country to find another missing shard. He recalled the way she would nurse him to health, clean his wounds, explode at him for being an insufferable baka, or laugh with him at Miroku's antics. . . Her smile could push any grey clouds away. . . .
Grey clouds. Like Kikyou's eyes. . . .
He had loved Kikyou first—perhaps this was why she seemed to dominate his heart?
Feh. Dominate my heart? Since when has any woman dominated my heart? Love is a weakness. I can't afford to be weak in any way. . . .
Kikyou was then; Kagome is now. Same soul, different women. Both whom he was attracted to…
He mentally cursed. Two women! One was distracting enough, but two—! It was almost more than a hanyou could bear.
"Inu-Yasha!"
"Hn?" He glanced down to see Kagome standing beneath him in the tree. "Whaddya want, wench?"
She frowned slightly and crossed her arms, the wind playing with her hair. She looked so much like Kikyou just then. . . . .
"Where have you been all day? I thought we were going to move by nightfall? Miroku is getting anxious to move on to the next village. . . . he seems to have already established a bad reputation in this one."
"Since when has our travel schedule been based on that pervert's wishes?"
"It hasn't—it isn't. We had a tip off about another shard—don't you remember?"
"Feh, I remember fine."
"So what's—"
"Oy, wench, don't you ever shut up?"
"What's your problem, Inu-Yasha?" snapped Kagome. "You were the one who wanted to push on ahead and find the other shard as soon as possible! Naraku's not going to wait for you to come out of your funk to try and complete the jewel as well."
"I'm not in a funk! Can't a hanyou be alone with his thoughts for a few moments without a certain someone pestering him with questions every few seconds?" he said with a meaningful glance down at the girl below him.
"Fine!" she huffed and stalked away, muttering something about mood swings and bi-polar dog-demons under her breath.
He felt a stab of guilt as he watched her make her way towards their camp. Crap, he'd made her mad again. It wasn't as if he enjoyed making her angry. . . well, maybe he did a little. . .but it was her freakin' fault for interrupting his troublesome thoughts. It was hard enough deciding which woman to choose without one of the candidates interrupting his thought processes and tipping the scales in another direction—
Wait, what did he mean choose between two women? He didn't have to choose anyone! Why couldn't he just go through life as it was, Kagome beside him in reality, and Kikyou a distant memory?
Who had a tendency to show up at the most inconvenient times and throw his world into disorder.
Gods, I can't do this anymore.
He pulled one of his legs toward his body and rested his head on his knee. He was weak. He hated being weak. His heart felt like it was tearing in two. . . . Kagome on one side, Kikyou on the other. He loved them both.
Loved?
"Argh…" Loved. . . . is that what it meant to want to protect both of them from anything that threatened to harm them? To always have either one of them near him, always. . . .?
At the moment, Kagome was foremost on his thoughts. Probably because he'd just hurt her—again.
But then again, it did seem rather ridiculous to persist in loving a dead woman who lived with every fiber of her being to see him dead.
Curse it all! It's not like I can stop loving her just like that: a snap of the fingers, and *bang!* all love for Kikyou vanishes. Would that Kami would grant me such powers. . . .
So he had loved Kikyou. What of it? Her only wish in life was to send him to hell; why didn't he just give her up and turn his attentions to the one who did love him—
. . . . .
But did she love him?
More importantly, did he love her?
His natural reaction was to dismiss such thoughts from his mind with an indifferent "keh!". . . but this time he couldn't. She'd become more to him than Kikyou's reincarnation, or "wench"—she was Kagome, his Kagome.
He winced. Now he was sounding like Kouga, that mangy, good-for-nothing wolf-demon. Looks as if the two enemies finally agreed on something.
"Those look like heavy thoughts, Inu-Yasha. What is going through that brain of yours?"
Inu-Yasha jumped a bit and glared down at the ground once again, this time to scowl at Miroku. "By the gods, can't a man have a bit of peace and quiet?"
"Not after you've just upset a woman—I would have thought that you'd have known by now that the world revolves around a woman's emotions." The monk's amethyst eyes snapped teasingly.
"Feh, what crap are you spouting now, monk? I haven't heard of any such rule before."
"That figures. Maybe if you'd spent more time winning a woman's affections rather than fighting demons—"
"Like you, pervert? At least villagers run from me in fear, not repulsion."
The purple-clad figure gasped in mock horror and staggered, hand to his heart. "You wound me, Inu-Yasha."
"Yeah? Go get Sango to mend you."
"I wish." Miroku cocked his head and ventured, "Won't you come down to at least hear me out? It can't do you any harm."
"Keh," he grunted, but jumped to the ground all the same. He crossed his legs Indian style and fixed his gaze upon the slightly older male in front of him. "So talk."
Miroku took a seat next to the hanyou. "You've hurt Kagome."
Yeah, so what else is new?
"She's crying."
Inu-Yasha let out a breath of frustration. Of course she is. I can smell her blasted tears all the way over here. "So what do you want me to do about it?"
"I know you have this certain phobia of apologizing—especially to Kagome—"
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.
"It means you should do the gentlemanly thing and go apologize for being the rude dog that you were a few minutes ago."
"Feh, what is she so upset about? I didn't say anything worse than I ever have before."
"I couldn't quite figure that part out," Miroku muttered thoughtfully, his gaze wandering over to a certain demon exterminator. "She said something about it being 'that time of the month'. . . ."
"Eh?" It wasn't as if Kagome was about to change from hanyou to full human on that certain night of the month. . . . He dismissed it as another one of her peculiarities.
"Regardless, I think you should go say you're sorry."
"And why should I take your advice?" Inu-Yasha grunted. That annoying little voice in his head had taken up that chant again: Kikyou or Kagome. . . . Kikyou or Kagome. . . you have to choose one—Kikyou or Kagome. . . .?
"What's the matter now?"
"Nothing!" Inu-Yasha said a little too swiftly.
Miroku raised an eyebrow. "This wouldn't have anything to do with our friend from the future, would it?"
"No. . . ." More like ghosts from the past. . .
"Or is it her dead-but-not-quite counterpart?"
And the ghost's reincarnation. . . .
"I can't do it!" burst Inu-Yasha, cradling his head in his hands. "I can't. . . I can't, I can't. . . ."
"Can't do what?" Miroku said, becoming alarmed. It wasn't like Inu-Yasha to display emotion over anything. "Apologize? It won't kill you—just say you're sorry."
Just say you're sorry. It won't kill you. . . .
That's where you're wrong, Miroku. Love can kill you. . . .
Then what have I got to lose? Kikyou tried to kill me—and then I met Kagome. What if. . . . what if I was meant to meet Kagome? What if we were meant to be together?
Kikyou. . . . He heard her laugh, her voice taunting him, "I won't die until I see you dead!" mixing with Kagome's, "I guess Kikyou and I are alike in that way: we're alike in our desire to both be with you."
You're wrong, Kagome. Kikyou doesn't want to be with me—unless it's in Hell.
But Kagome wanted to be with him. . . .
He jumped up from his sitting position and sprinted towards where Kagome and Sango were sitting outside the tent they'd set up, leaving a startled Miroku underneath the tree. He had to do this before he changed his mind.
He landed beside Kagome, his breath coming in short spurts, the result of his anxiety.
Kagome turned toward him, her dark eyes questioning. Sango raised an eyebrow and quietly headed over to where Miroku was sitting.
"Inu-Yasha?" Kagome was inquiring. "Did you want something?"
"Er. . . yes. . . . no—that is—" he coughed and then said gruffly, "I'm sorry." He steeled himself for her response, not meeting her eyes.
But he quickly met her gaze when he heard her laugh quietly. He cocked his head inquisitively and she gently tugged on one of his ears. "I forgive you, Inu-Yasha," she said, smiling.
I forgive you, Inu-Yasha.
Just like that? She forgave him just like that, after he'd made her cry, like he had countless times before? Why couldn't Kikyou. . . . .
A smile slowly crept over his face as realization dawned on him. Kagome wasn't Kikyou—he himself had said so earlier. Kikyou could hold a grudge for over fifty years when Kagome. . . Kagome forgave him without hesitation.
Of course, she hadn't been fatally wounded by Naraku impersonating Inu-Yasha. . . . but if she had, and had later discovered the truth as Kikyou had, would she had forgiven him?
He didn't know.
But as Kagome shyly slid her hand into his, and he absently rubbed this thumb over the back of her hand while staring into those dark eyes, he knew that it didn't matter.
Kagome smiled and leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder, a gesture of total trust. He gently shifted to make her more comfortable, and smiled at himself.
Actions spoke louder than words. . . .
His choice had been made.
~ THE END ~