A/N: No reviews and only six views on the first chapter. It's extremely discouraging, and I'd really hate to cancel a story before it goes anywhere. Read and review, folks. I want input. What can I do better? Do you like how things are going so far? Please, tell me.


Kagome Higurashi

The man, this Wayne Alencar, was certainly a big eater. Two bowls were completely emptied out, and he claimed to still have space for a third. This caused the whole family to gape in shock; the habits had nothing to do with his nationality, either. Kagome didn't buy into that stereotype, at least.

He felt off, for some reason. It had nothing to do with those eyes of tarnished brass, or his considerable height and bulk. But she couldn't place her finger on it.

He wasn't hard on the eyes with his tan skin and musculature. Kagome would be amazed if he wasn't married, yet. He had a good deal of age behind him; it showed through the worn lines around his eyes and the slight strands of grey in his stubble.

"So, umm…" Souta trailed. "What is it you did as a living?"

"Oh, me?" Wayne asked, nearly choking on what water he had in his mouth. "I was an accountant back home. I'm looking for a new employer and taking a vacation while doing it. I'm also a musician in my spare time—and I have nothing but time these days."

"Huh…neat," Souta said. "You have an exciting hobby? I couldn't help but notice the rope wrapped around your duffle bag."

"I climb and survive a lot in the wilderness," Wayne said. "Sometimes I climb city buildings if I'm feeling brave. The essentials are there: backpack, climbing harness and rope, lighter and extra fluid, canteen, flashlight with a couple of batteries, and then some stuff for emergencies."

"Talk about coming prepared…" Souta whistled.

They sounded like very physically taxing activities…little wonder he ate so much. Loud, hyperactive, chatty…like Inuyasha. Speaking of, he was probably on the roof, listening in. He just did not get the meaning of the word "privacy".

"I brought a camcorder, too. For fun," Wayne said.

"Umm…what's a 'camcorder'?" Souta asked.

"You know about the video cameras that filmmakers use when they make movies?" Wayne asked, to which Souta nodded. "Think those, but small enough to be held in one hand, and you've got a camcorder."

"Neat! Sounds like a great way to keep vacations in mind," Souta complimented.

"Yeah," Wayne said. "I re-watch old vacation tapes all the time."

"What about family? Are you married? Do you have someone waiting for you back home?" Souta asked.

"Something like that," Wayne said. "A wife and a daughter. My daughter was eight the last time I saw her."

So, he was married…

"I'm sorry to ask, but 'last time you saw her'?" Mama asked.

"Yes," Wayne said. "We've all been…separated for about a year, now. I look forward to seeing them again."

"Wayne…" Rihoko started.

"Let's not start this in front of our hosts…" Wayne trailed.

"Am…am I missing something?" Kagome asked, curious to see where this would go.

"Typical family tensions of ours," Wayne said, sighing. "Personal issues. It's about my bad habits."

That last sentence he choked out was a half-lie, or so her instincts told her.

"Of course, there's this subject my great aunt here keeps bringing up," Wayne said. "It hardly brings any comfort."

Kagome didn't read minds. She couldn't, and she wasn't as skilled at reading people as she liked. But his attitude gave it all away.

"When he says 'separated', he means…"

"Drop it!" Wayne snapped to his great aunt, to the shock of everyone at the table.

Wayne looked around and sighed, perfectly aware of what he had just done.

"May I excuse myself?" Wayne asked. "I need to go get some fresh air."

"Um…yes, go ahead," Mama told him.

Wayne got up, careful not to hit the table in the process, and went for the door out of the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder, and Kagome could see regret over causing such a ruckus in his expression. And then he continued.

"I apologize for his behavior. He's been like this for a year now. He's usually pretty nice," Aiko said after Wayne left. "It doesn't help that my nephew never got along with my mother or aunt."

He hasn't seen his wife and daughter in a year, he looks forward to seeing them again. Seeing them again…could that mean…?

"And he's been drinking a lot since then. It will kill him if he's not careful. He got that from his father, I'd say," Rihoko said. "But something tells me he'll persevere, somehow. He's always carried some of the best traits of our ancestors. My predictions about him are rarely wrong. I just wish he'd listen once in a while."

"It's all right," Grandpa said. "I know the feeling."

"Should someone go check on him?" Mama asked. "If what you're saying is true, I'd rather he'd not drink himself into a stupor."

"Umm, I'm not so sure Kagome or I could get through to him," Souta commented.

"I suppose I'll do it," Mama said. "A conversation between parents. It seems right."


Wayne Alencar

Wayne sat on a bench, hip flask in hand. Pity the tree he sat near was blocking the moonlight. He really felt in enough of a mood to climb something, but it would just be plain rude to climb on the hosts' property. He felt an unusual sense that he was supposed to be here, in this country, and on these grounds.

"Just what is this tree?" he thought aloud.

"The Goshinboku," a woman's voice said behind him.

Wayne turned to look at the woman of the house. She was smiling, but there was a hint of worry on those lips. Wayne cursed his tendency to think aloud so often.

It's not as though it was a new habit he formed recently: he verbalized his thoughts from a young age. It helped him maintain focus on one specific topic, helped with his stress, and distracted him from feelings of loneliness.

"Ms. Higurashi," Wayne said. "Sorry about making a scene."

"You're new to Japan, and you look it," Ms. Higurashi said. "I'll let it be."

"You've got my thanks, then," Wayne said. "Would you like a seat?

"Yes, that would be lovely," Ms. Higurashi said.

"I really wish the moon wasn't being blocked by this tree," Wayne said. "The waxing crescent was always my favorite to look at."

"It does look cute, I admit," Ms. Higurashi said. "I never saw its appeal, though."

"I guess I was just born with the interest," Wayne said before taking another sip from his flask. "So, what's so special about this tree, this…Goshinboku?"

"I'm afraid its importance is beyond me," Ms. Higurashi said. "Not even my father-in-law can guess how long it's stood. I was thinking centuries; he thought it was several millennia. It was said that a miko from a village nearby bound a youkai to this tree five and a half centuries ago."

"No signs of a skeleton, if I might be so bold," Wayne grinned. "Was the body removed intact?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Ms. Higurashi said.

"What about you?" Wayne asked, eyes trained on the woman who was giving him hospitality. "I don't mean to pry, but I hear fondness in your voice."

"Yes, this spot has great sentimental meaning," Ms. Higurashi confessed. "This is where my late husband proposed to me."

"He proposed on his own family's soil…" Wayne said. "Eternal hospitality…it's poetic. What happened to him?

"Car accident took him away," Ms. Higurashi said. "Souta wasn't even born yet."

Ms. Higurashi was tearing up a bit. Instinct told him to put a steady hand on her shoulder, to tell her things would be all right.

"Sounds like a he was a good man," Wayne said, complying with his instincts, lacing comfort in his otherwise stoic voice.

"He was…" Ms. Higurashi said. "A good husband and a good father. He always tried to find time for Kagome, even when he had a busy work day."

"Now, that a proper father," Wayne trailed, taking his hand off her shoulder. This time, it was his turn to tear up.

"Your daughter is nice—seems a bit distracted, but nice," Wayne said. "And Souta is curious…adorably so. He almost reminds of Mei."

"Mei's your daughter," Ms. Higurashi concluded. It was stating the facts, not asking a question.

"Yep. My wife's name is Jun," Wayne said.

"Separated from them for a year…" Ms. Higurashi trailed. "When do you plan to see them again?

"Well, if I live the average human lifespan out," Wayne started. "I'd say around forty-three years."

"You're in your thirties, you think you'll see them in that long? But…that would mean they're…"

"Dead…yes. When I said separated, I meant by the boundary between life and death," Wayne said, voice stoic, posture stiff. "I'm alone."