Travel

The morning sun was violently bright Kazuto thought grimly, but not as violently bright as the chirpy-she demon banging around his kitchen.

Chiyo had bounced up at dawn and insisted that she make breakfast for him. Kazuto didn't turn her down; she was an excellent cook, but accepting her offer meant slinking off to a shop for some groceries because apparently he "had nothing" in his fridge. He'd left her happily nosing around his cabinets looking for rarely-used cooking implements. By the time he'd returned she'd turned his small space upside down. She'd even fished the underpants he'd hidden from her the night before out and hung them on the corner of the fridge like a flag. He snatched them down.

"What the hell Chiyo?" He said angrily. "Why you are flinging my underpants around?"

Chiyo reared back in mock indignation. "I did NOTHING of the sort! Those underpants were so worn out by your ass that they tried to hang themselves."

"That's rude," Kazuto said, sitting cross-legged at the low table and trying not to admire her legs too much. "Since when do you say 'ass'?"

"Since you left and I decided to be a rebel too."

"I'm not much of a rebel."

"Sure you are. You smoke. That's like the definition of a rebel."

Kazuto rubbed his shoulder uncomfortably.

"I don't really smoke," He confessed. "Not anymore. I was just wigged out last night."

"Ah," Chiyo said noncommittally. "Here we are!"

She dug some groceries out of the bags he'd brought in and set to work. Kazuto slunk over to the bathroom.

The shower was damp. Apparently she'd already used it. He undressed and showered himself, staying in the hot water a lot longer than he normally would have. He liked Chiyo, a little too much perhaps, and had known her all her life. Why did he feel so awkward around her?

Finally he could delay no longer, so he dried and dressed and rejoined Chiyo in the main room where she had set a table with rice, miso soup, and grilled fish.

Despite himself, Kazuto smiled as he sat down and began to eat.

Chiyo had arranged, via her phone, to return to the U.S. on a flight that left that evening and with a force that impressed Kazuto, she argued with the airline's customer service long enough to secure him a ticket on the same flight. She sat on the futon and chattered away at him while he slunk around his apartment, stuffing things into his rucksack. He ignored her, mostly, not because he wasn't interested in what she had to say (she was currently re-living a disastrous date with a Kitsune who kept changing genders mid-dinner) but because her cutoffs were distracting and her silvery hair kept catching the afternoon sunlight.

Kazuto really felt as though he would like to punch something. Perhaps he would just claw through the wall in the bathroom. He'd tried really hard to avoid it. Getting away from his beautiful adopted-cousin was one of the reasons he left. He remembered her as a baby, but by the time their families joined up she was closer to his age than he realized she would be. She'd caught up to him, and he hadn't grown much. Hanyou age, but very slowly.

He'd tried to ignore her, but Chiyo was not to be ignored. She commanded attention. She was beautiful and vivacious. Her upbeat clarity lifted his spirits. She made him laugh. She wanted to learn kendo, and had pestered him endlessly to train her.

He'd never made a move on her in those years they lived in the states, where there parents had first met. He'd wanted to, and had planned to, but she was younger than him, and unscarred by the rough past he'd endured. He supposed he'd waited to see if she would take a shine to anyone else. She had deserved that chance.

He hadn't been sure that she returned his feelings though. He worried that she could smell it on him, and he was careful to not get too physically close to her. His sense of smell was acute, but he couldn't hold a candle to the daughter of a powerful dog demon. Her feelings were a mystery to him, although she did seem fond of him. She had wanted to be around him, had offered him many smiles and laughs and smacks on the shoulder.

He'd reached out for her hand once, as she was walking away. He'd caught it lightly, and let it slip through his fingers. He just wanted to feel it. She hadn't turned around.

Another time he'd forgotten himself entirely and ran his fingers through her hair. She'd quirked her ears at him and blushed, but leaned into his touch slightly. He'd taken it as permission to continue, and spent the next few minutes idly threading his fingers through her silky strands. Neither one of them spoke. They'd just finished sparring and sat outdoors in the cool autumn evening.

He'd wanted so badly to do more, perhaps put an arm around her, even kiss her. But he'd held himself back. He wasn't even sure why.

His obsession had gotten worse after that evening. He found himself staring at her throughout the day, wondering where she was when she wasn't in his sight. He'd catch whiffs of her or hear her and feel like he wanted to drop everything and go see her. Too often he indulged himself and went to find her. Sometimes she would be playing with his younger siblings in the creek, or reading in the porch swing, or picking apples from the orchard out back. Sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of him and smile, and he'd have to look around for something to do, something to make it look like he wasn't just stalking around the house after her.

Kagome had noticed, he knew, and said very little about it. She did seem to have a sixth sense for when he was looking for Chiyo though. He'd prowl into the kitchen in the afternoons and she'd just say gently, "She's gone to the store, hon."

Inuyasha was more oblivious, buried as he usually was under his many kids. Kagome had given him six boys, each as bad-tempered and mischievous as the last, and the older hanyou was constantly pulling his sons out of scrapes and narrowly avoiding mud-projectiles.

It was Sesshomaru who was the problem. Once he realized that his attraction to Chiyo was more or less obvious, Kazuto had avoided him like the plague. Sesshomaru wasn't exactly a warm person anyway, and his protectiveness of his daughter was all-encompassing. Kazuto was a scraggly orphan, the type who tried to fit into his new family but kept fucking it all up somehow. Not the kind of mate material he supposed a taiyoukai would be after for his daughter.

Kazuto had known it would happen eventually, but when it did, it was so much worse than he thought. He'd followed his instincts to Chiyo one sunny spring afternoon, only to find her bathing in the creek. She wore only a white bikini, and she was stunning. Kazuto stared at her for all he was worth, knowing that if she turned to face him and saw the way he was looking at her, there would be no more beating around the bush. Maybe he wanted that? He never got a chance to find out. A hand full of sharp claws snatching him by the back of the neck and before he knew it, he was pinned against the side of the barn with a snarling taiyoukai in his face.

He'd denied, denied, denied and swore up and down he had no intentions. He'd known Sesshomaru could smell the lie, but he'd told it anyway. It had taken a long time for his adopted uncle to relax. Kazuto would continue to feel tense for days, his instincts to be with Chiyo warring with his own sense of self-preservation. Eventually he'd found a good excuse to leave, and he'd taken it, figuring the silver-haired demoness would be better off without him, and he'd be better off not being dismembered by her father.

But had it been worth it? Years had passed and here she was, still glowing and gorgeous, offering him those shy smiles he'd craved so much. She'd snuggled into his back at some point in the night, and it had been physically painful not to roll over and bury his face in her neck and smell her and kiss her and taste every part of her body.

When the time came to go to the airport, Chiyo took his hand shyly in her own, as if to encouraging him to leave the apartment. Once they'd closed the door behind them, though, he didn't let go.