Learning to Live
Chapter One – Daddy Dearest
Kagome Hirgurashi had lived a pleasant childhood filled with smiles, hugs, and all the love a child could ask for. She lived with her parents, younger brother, and grandfather in an average house in the better part of San Francisco from the age of four until she left for college. They'd moved to the city after her brother was born and her father was transferred over from the east coast. Her parents had a great relationship and they lived a very good life in the suburbs. But a few years of living in the Bay City made her father restless and unsatisfied. No one in her family knew or suspected that he was involved in an affair with a younger woman until after Kagome's fourteenth birthday.
They had all been so happy and held a huge celebration to commemorate not only Kagome's birthday, but her graduation from middle school the month before as well. Friends and relatives came over and the party lasted until late into the night. Her father had taken up his stake at the barbeque for most of the evening, but had disappeared somewhere between cake and ice cream and their guests' departure. No one thought anything of it, until a few days later when there was a message from a strange woman on the answering machine.
Kagome had found it when she had come home early from swim team. Both her parents worked full-time jobs so they wouldn't be home until later in the afternoon. She'd just taken off her shoes and was flipping through the mail for anything important or interesting when she noticed the answering machine flashing. Thinking she would help her parents by listening to it to conveying the message, she pushed the button and listened as a woman named Tamora's voice drifted through the house.
"… Hi, Ichigo! It's Tamora! I'm just calling to confirm our," here she giggled before continuing in amusement, "meeting. I can't wait to see you again Ichi! See you Thursday! Call me; I miss you!"
There was more giggling before the line went dead and the automated voice informed Kagome that there were no more new messages and went on to replay a few old ones from earlier in the week that no one had bothered to erase. Kagome just stood there, staring quizzically at the answering machine. Who was Tamora? And why was she calling for her father? She sounded like a love-struck teenager… Shrugging it off, she decided to ask her father later about the strange woman. She was calling for him and obviously knew him well enough to call him by just his first name and be so familiar, let alone have an arranged meeting with him. Maybe she was someone really nice and she and Kagome could be friends…
X
"Daddy? Who's Tamora?" Kagome asked later that night over dinner.
Her father glanced up at her startled for a moment before smiling softly at his daughter. "I don't know, Kagome. Is she a new friend of yours, or maybe some new celebrity?"
"No," Kagome shook her head. "She called earlier for you. She called you Ichi." Kagome wrinkled her nose at the nickname, picking at her food absently.
All movement at the table ceased as everything went silent. Noticing the sudden stillness and tension in the air, Kagome slowly raised her head to gaze blankly around at her family. They were all staring at her openly, seemingly frozen in the moment.
"What?" she asked, still oblivious to what she'd said.
Her voice seemed to break the spell and the room erupted in loud voices and silverware clattering against plates and the table. Her mother stood up from the table with an incredulous look on her face as she yelled down at her father. Grandpa started complaining about his eczema acting up over the last few weeks with the dry summer heat rolling in, which was strange for the city by the bay… Her father stood up as well to meet her mother's challenging voice with a booming voice of his own. And little Souta who was only six and didn't understand anything that was going on, frightened by all the yelling, started to cry, wailing and gasping as fat crocodile tears streamed down his face and his pudgy little nose ran like a leaky faucet. Kagome just sat there and watched all this going on stunned. Who knew just one lady could start something this loud and… heated.
"Ichi? Some woman I don't know is going around calling you Ichi?" Her mother shrieked.
"A lot of people call me Ichi!" her father roared back, mimicking her voice when her said the nickname.
"It's been quite dry lately," Grandpa lamented grievously. "I can't stop itching, no matter what I do to alleviate it and use creams and salves."
"When, when you were ten? Ichigo, I don't even call you that!"
"Well, you never thought of it, I guess! And why do you care anyway? Are you jealous Gina?"
"Before you know it, I'm going to scratch myself raw and bloody," Grandpa continued with a sigh while her mother gasped at her father's words.
"Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Unless…" again she gasped and pointed an accusing finger at him, her other hand covering her gaping mouth.
"Unless what, Gina?" her father snapped at her silence.
"Unless…" she said softly around her hand. "Unless you're seeing her…"
Her father didn't say anything to her statement. He just kept staring at her, unmoving. He couldn't deny it and he couldn't bring himself to confirm her words. Souta continued to wail loudly in the background. Her mother's hand began to shake and her eyes filled with tears as she shook her hear slowly.
"It's true, isn't it?" she said in a soft voice, not needing an answer to know she was right as her tears silently trekked down her cheeks.
Her father nodded, looking away. "Yes."
And with that, her mother broke down in sobs and collapsed on the floor. Grandpa had stopped complaining about his skin condition and Souta's tears were winding down finally. Kagome continued to watch, dumbstruck as her father sighed and walked out of the dining room. She could hear him in the hall talking on the phone to someone before retreating to the bedroom he'd shared with his wife for sixteen years.
Later that night, Kagome walked passed her parents' bedroom and heard them talking. The door was partially open and their soft voices were hushed so that no one else would hear their conversation. But Kagome couldn't help eavesdropping. She knew her family was falling apart and she wanted to know why.
"How long?" her mother asked in a rough voice, her throat rubbed raw from her sobs.
"About two years," her father replied solemnly.
"Oh, God!" she cried. "Were we really that horrible? Were you really so unsatisfied?"
"No, no, that's not it," her father said in a tired voice and Kagome could picture him massaging the bridge of his nose like he always did when her was stressed or frustrated.
"Then what is it, Ichigo? Do you not love me any more? Do you not love your children anymore? This is your family!"
"Gina…"
"I just don't understand, Ichigo! You always seemed so happy!"
"And I was!" he finally exploded, making Kagome jumped back from the door startled. Her father had never yelled like that… "Just, just let me explain, okay?"
There was silence on the other side of the door. Kagome guessed her mother was nodding. 'She must have been startled too,' Kagome thought as she moved closer to the door to better hear what her parents were saying.
"It's not your fault, or anyone's fault," her father finally said after a few minutes of silence. "I just… I don't know. It just happened and I didn't stop it."
"But why?"
"I didn't… want to. I knew I loved you and I knew I loved the kids. But with Tamora… I was a different person. I didn't have to worry about bills or being a father, she made me feel younger and more… reckless, invincible," his wistful voice took Kagome by surprise. So this strange woman made him… happier?
"But you're not, Ichigo? You can't stop being a father, and everyone has to worry about bills and taxes. And you're not getting any younger… None of us are…"
"She doesn't care about my age!"
"And neither do I! You're my husband and I promised to love you and be faithful to you no matter what. And you did too! You went back on our promise to each other! The promise we made before the law and God!"
"You don't understand, Gina!"
"I understand fully, Ichigo! I've loved you for most of my life, but that's just not good enough for you. And looking at it right now, I discover that I really don't care anymore. But the least you could have done was tell me instead of leading me on – leading our whole family on – for two whole years!"
The room was silent for an uncomfortable beat and Kagome backed away slightly, worried that they had discovered her snooping in the hall. But then her mother's soft but harsh voice cut through the silence.
"Get out. If you don't want anything to do with this family anymore then you can just leave and never see me or my children ever again."
Not wanting to get caught, Kagome quickly fled down the hall silently. She locked herself in her room and didn't dare answer her father's voice when he came to say good-bye a few minutes later. She could hear her brother's crying from the other side of the house again and assumed her father was really leaving for good. She hadn't heard his response to her mother's words, so she didn't know what had happened between them after she'd abruptly ended her eavesdropping. But she didn't really care. The man she had called father and loved for her whole life up until that point was walking out on them for another woman after two years of unfaithfulness. She had no love for him anymore; he was dead to her… Or at least that's what she told herself…
So for the next four years, Kagome and her family got by and lived a fairly normal life. After high school, she left for college and moved out. She had planned to be a neurologist. Her grandfather had passed away when she was seventeen of a serious brain tumor and her whole family was devastated because there was nothing they could have done; it grew too fast, even though they had caught it fairly early. They hadn't even been able to start treatments before he had died in his sleep of a massive seizure. So Kagome had dedicated her life to helping others in such conditions.
Unfortunately, around the time that Kagome was starting her last quarter of her sophomore year in college, her father showed up on their doorstep, begging for help. He had fallen upon some hard times and had nowhere to stay. Her mother, still very much in love with her ex-husband, took pity upon his poor situation and had allowed him to stay until he had his feet underneath him. Everything was going fine for a while, although Kagome was away at college and refused to interact with her father at all, so she couldn't judge the circumstances for herself.
But then, one morning, her mother and brother woke up to find that her father was gone and had taken all of the money in their bank accounts – including Souta's and Kagome's college funds – a sizeable portion of her mother's jewelry – many of which were family heirlooms – and the family's car. They were all devastated at the loss and ashamed at how easily he had deceived them and taken advantage of them. In order to make up for what they had lost, her mother began working several part-time jobs and the occasional odd job, but it wasn't enough to keep Kagome in college. So after the end of her second year in college, Kagome dropped out and started working full-time to help support her family and attended the local community college at night. Fortunately, she had enough credits and experience to find a good job as a physical therapist and managed to find a clinic that allowed her to continue her studies in the field of neurology and become the leading specialist in her area of work.
She was one of the best. She had the highest number of recovered patients in the whole of Northern California. Kagome had everything going for her. So then why was she laying awake in bed? Why couldn't she get to sleep? It couldn't be because she felt pity for her father. He'd given up on her. Why should she help him out? But then again…
"I need to ask you for a favor. I'm in a bit of a pickle."
Kagome stared up at her ceiling, trying desperately and failing to fall asleep. She just couldn't get the encounter she'd had with her father earlier that day out of her head.
"…I really need your help. It's a matter of life and death to me and you're the only person I knew I could turn to and trust…"
Kagome sighed and stood up from her rats' nest of a bed. She'd been tossing and turning for the past two and a half hours in an attempt to get comfortable and fall asleep. But none of her usual methods had worked and she wasn't quite ready to drug herself to sleep. Her mind was just so restless, and it was all her blasted father's fault!
Padding into the kitchen, she swiped the folder her father had dumped on her desk off of the hall table and flicked on the lights. She plopped down into a chair at the kitchen table and leaned on her elbows, massaging the bridge of her nose with a scowl. It was a habit that she had picked up from her bastard of a father. Figures he would cause her so much anxiety that she would be driven to a habit he instilled in her… Glancing down at the manila folder, she gave a heavy sigh and gingerly scooped it up, flipping it open with a sense of trepidation. She didn't really intend to help the old man out, but curiosity was getting the better of her at the moment…
The first page had her floored.
"What the hell…?" she breathed, flipping through the next few pages. How in the world had her father acquired such in-depth and thorough information? And on…
Kagome threw the folder down on the table as if she'd been burned. No wonder he was in a pickle. 'Pickle my ass. This is the deepest shit he could possibly manage to get into. Figures it would be my old man to dig himself this deep and then come running to me…' Sighing, she let her head drop into her hands. Whether she agreed or not, someone was going to come looking for her since she was affiliated with her father, although distantly and intentionally so.
"God, Dad, what did you drag me into? I mean, the Taisho's? Come on! I don't need this – now or ever!"
With a very audible groan, Kagome stood up and made her way over to the phone and dialed her father's number. At least at this time, she could bug the hell out of him by waking him up with her 'good' news. 'Stupid fathers,' she mentally grumbled. 'Dragging their innocent daughters into their stupid shit just to save their fat asses…'
X
Somewhere in a forest near Honey Lake in Northern California, a silver-haired young man was thinking along the same lines… Except for the fact that instead of daughters, he was thinking about sons… Deftly rolling the wheels of his state-of-the-art wheelchair forward, he scowled at the ramp disappearing beneath his propped up and unfeeling legs.
His father had just returned from a long business trip and had informed him that in a few days – at most, a week – a new physical therapist and neuro-specialist would be arriving to take a fresh look at his case and work with him over the next few months. Why did his father always do this? He'd been confined to a wheelchair since he was six years old and had undergone countless therapy sessions and surgeries in an attempt to return all of his motor functions back to normal. Nothing had worked then, and nothing was going to work now. So why bother spending all that money on a worthless cause?
Shaking his unruly mop of shaggy silver hair, the twenty-eight year old continued up the homemade ramp to the second story. He paused momentarily to jerk back on the handbrakes and wipe the sweat from his brow and then readjust the straps on his fingerless biker gloves. There was an elevator that his father had installed just for him a few years back that he could use to get to the upper floors of the mansion, but where was the fun in that? Sure, it went faster that struggling up a fairly steep incline, but how else would he prove his competency at taking care of himself and piss his father off at the same time? And getting around this way by himself gave him a certain sense of internal pride that was seriously lacking in his life ever since he'd lost the ability to stand and walk on his own two legs. No, he would get around his way or no way. Simple as pie.
"You know, it's going to take you forever to get back up here," a calm and very amused voice called from the second floor landing.
"Shut the fuck up Miroku!" the young paraplegic panted, straining to roll himself up a few more inches.
Miroku just chuckled. He looked up from his silvery bangs with amber eyes to see the dark-haired man leaning against the railing with his muscular arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin on his face. Growling low in his throat, the silver-haired young man just gritted his teeth and proceeded to wheel himself up the wood ramp in silent determination. After a few minutes of silence, Miroku finally spoke up again.
"Inuyasha, just let me help you up the rest of the way. You know this is the hardest part and it's really late. You need to go to bed."
Inuyasha just jerked back on the brakes and glared at his long-time friend. Miroku had been a part of the Taisho household ever since the boys were little, before the accident. Miroku's mother had been a maid for the family and he had become close friends with Inuyasha since there weren't very many children in the house even at that time. After the accident, Miroku had stayed and helped Inuyasha out with adjusting, even though his mother died in the same accident. Both boys had lost their mothers in the accident and it was easier to stick together – especially since Inuyasha was left paralyzed from the waist down – than to part ways and go through so much more on their own.
"I can do it by myself, Miroku," Inuyasha growled, his knuckles turning white from their firm grip on his chair.
Miroku sighed and shook his head, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his sides. "I know you can, you stubborn ass, but there are more important things than proving yourself right now and maintaining an unhealthy amount of pride in pissing off just about everyone you know! You're pushing yourself too hard. Accept someone's fucking help for once!"
Inuyasha just looked away and unlocked his breaks, gripping his wheels against slipping from his hold and hurtling him down the steep ramp to crash on the hard ground of the front hall. Breathing out through his nose, he deftly spun his chair around and coasted down the ramp to the first floor of the house. With no emotion showing on his face, he turned his head slightly to make sure Miroku heard him.
"I'm sleeping downstairs tonight," he said softly before turning back around and rolling himself quietly down the hall and disappearing inside a dark room further down the hall and out of sight.
Miroku sighed again and turned back towards the dark second story of the mansion. Inuyasha was too stubborn for his own good. Maybe that specialist would knock some sense into him about how far he could really push his body. He heard she was supposed to be the best in San Francisco, if not the whole of Northern California. She was also said to be single and extremely pretty… Miroku smirked as he slipped into a dark room and flipped on the lights.
"Please tell me he gave up on the ramp tonight," a feminine voice said from the other side of the room.
Glancing up, Miroku locked gazes with deep brown eyes set in the face of the woman he'd fantasized about since the time she had arrived at the mansion. "Ah, Sango. What brings you here?" he asked with a smile.
Sango rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap, Miroku. Where's the brat?"
"Inuyasha? He's sleeping downstairs tonight."
Sango just gave him a suspicious look before nodding slightly and standing up from where she sat on his bed. "Alright. How far did he get before you 'persuaded' him to give up this time?"
Miroku frowned at his bed's sudden absence of Sango. She looked good in his bed. Noticing his distant expression, Sango tapped his forehead lightly, drawing his attention back on her and the question at hand. She stared up at him, not realizing their close proximity.
"Well? How far did he get?"
"Oh, that," Miroku said with a wave of his hand. "He got a little farther than usual – really close – but I convinced him to give it up. I think he's angry now; he almost had it."
"Oh…" Sango looked down at her hands and sighed, making to turn around and leave. "Okay, I should be going. It's really late and we've got work tomorrow, yeah?"
She shot him a wry grin over her shoulder. But it quickly slipped from her face to be replaced by a furious expression. Bringing her hand back, Miroku steeled himself for the usual slap across the face, his smile never leaving his face. But instead of slapping him, Sango thought better of it and brought her knee up between his legs, leaving his body prone on the floor with a flick of her long brown hair as she left the room in a huff. 'Serves the pervert right,' she thought with a righteous snort. 'If he thinks he can cop a feel off me, he's got another thing coming! Stupid asshole…'
X
Downstairs, Inuyasha was trying to flop onto the bed. He grunted and pushed himself up and out of the chair and attempted to maneuver himself so that when he shoved off, he would land on the bed and not the floor. But his dead-weight legs were too heavy for their own good and threw him off balance as soon as he pushed himself away from the confines of the chair. With a heavy thud, Inuyasha landed sprawled on the floor, his wheelchair tipped over out of reach. Banging his fist on the floor, Inuyasha shifted around to make himself a bit more comfortable on the hardwood floor. With no one around to help him back up, he was stuck on the floor until morning or until someone came along and found him. He wouldn't call out for someone. He was independent and didn't need assistance like a newborn baby. He would either manage on his own or deal with the consequences of failing. Inuyasha Taisho was no weakling.
Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wish for the use of his legs. He'd learned to deal with his disability over the years and knew that there was a slim to none chance of his ever walking again. But that didn't stop him from hoping, somewhere deep inside his tough exterior and barriers, that one day he would be able to stand on his own and get around like a normal person his age. He didn't want to hide away in this secluded mansion forever. He couldn't help but think that this was not the way his life was supposed to be, this wasn't what he and his mother had imagined for him when he was little. 'She wasn't supposed to die that day either…'
There were loud crashes and screams. Inuyasha glanced up from the colored blocks he and Miroku were stacking in a skyscraper on the floor. That sounded like his mother…
Inuyasha shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images and memories that pushed at walls of his mind. He didn't want to remember this! He couldn't remember this!
Sounds of a struggle came from the front hall. Inuyasha stood up slowly, tiptoeing over to the door to the sunny playroom. Just as he was about to push the door open and go see what was happening, four loud bangs echoed throughout the building. Screams followed soon after, accompanied by the sound of running feet. Inuyasha backed away from the door cautiously, Miroku coming over to him. What was that…?
"Damnit!" Inuyasha growled, slamming his fists into the hardwood floor beneath him. Why did these memories have to come back now? Couldn't he just forget about them and move on? He had to cope without the use of his legs for twenty-two years now and know that his mother and Miroku's mother died trying to protect him. He didn't want to remember this! It hurt too much…
Miroku's mother rushed in and scooped the two boys up, knocking the pile of blocks over as she did so. Holding the two boys to her tightly, she hid them all behind a long curtain by the farthest window, shielding them with her body.
"Shh," she sobbed silently. "Stay quiet."
"Why Mommy?" Miroku lisped softly, his thumb traveling to his mouth.
"We're…" she glanced over her should briefly before gazing down at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Playing a game, sweetie."
"Hide and go seek?" the young boy guessed.
His mother nodded her head haltingly. How do you tell your son that you're hiding from men who had just killed his Auntie Izayoi and were looking for them? You don't, that's how.
Inuyasha slowly drifted to sleep with the terrified face of Miroku's mother, Mayumi, staring into his eyes. The memory continued into his dreams, playing out in excruciating slow motion as men dressed in black stormed into the room and found their hiding spot. He watched on helplessly as the men yelled incoherently at the sobbing Mayumi's back before lifting their guns and emptying a round of bullets each into her unprotected form. She died instantly with a sharp gasp as she slumped forward after the first few bullets penetrated her heart from behind.
He and Miroku had cowered beneath the lifeless form of the family friend, mother, and maid, unnoticed by the men in black and sheltered from the onslaught of raining bullets. But one of the bullets passed straight through Mayumi and lodged itself in Inuyasha's spine, knocking him unconscious upon contact.
After the men had fled and the police and paramedics had arrived, Inuyasha was rushed to the hospital with the rest of the injured staff. The bullet was removed and he stayed in the hospital for a few days to recover. But as soon as he woke up, everyone discovered that he was paralyzed from the waist down. His father was crushed and ended up staying at work later and going on long business trips for most of the year, leaving his son and the only reminder of his beloved wife in the care of his workers. So for the next twenty-two years, Inuyasha grew up a parentless child with his childhood friend and fellow "orphan" in the house his mother had died in, secluded in a forest, miles away from civilization. And now some city specialist was coming to invade his isolation – that he had grown to prefer – all because of his father, the man who was hardly around to care about his general welfare throughout almost his entire childhood. There was some form of irony there, but Inuyasha was too pissed off and physically out of it to find it or really care.
E
I think that's it for the first actual chapter. Kinda depressing, but the whole concept of Beauty and the Beast is kinda depressing. Sorry it's been so late in coming. I hit a bit of a roadblock in one of my other stories and with Christmas and my mom stressing over preparations and decorating for family parties and gatherings… I've been a slave this past week, and I think it was only because I was always conveniently in the same general area as she was the whole time and wasn't doing anything "important" whenever she needed someone to do something. Most of the things she had me do, she had the time to do herself. Whatever, she gave me an iPod and awesome (and very much needed) jackets for Christmas and took me shopping for "nice occasion" clothes after church on Christmas Eve morning so I'm good by it. Just not really two days after Christmas when there's no stress for anything… Eh, the December Holiday season's a bitch and you just gotta take it with a grin… and maybe an Advil… Well, Merry belated Christmas and Happy early New Year! Until next time! – Hope Swings
