Chapter 20: Reverberation

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

What's this? ANOTHER update? The world must be coming to an end! And I really enjoyed writing this one, too. It's a flashback chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

And thanks so much for the reviews—super sweet, and a driving force to push me into writing more.

Children, wake up. Hold your mistake up before they turn the summer into dust. If the children don't grow up, our bodies get bigger, but our hearts get torn up. We're just a million little gods causin' rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust. …I guess we'll just have to adjust.

- "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire

It was late Friday afternoon—sunny, warm, a beautiful day in late spring only days before summer break began.

Shouldering his backpack, Hiroshi walked down the aisle of the school bus, and skipped the last two steps, landing with a thud on the dusty road. He didn't have to look back to know that Miroku was directly behind him—he could hear him quietly thanking the bus driver. He pushed himself forward into a lazy sprint towards his house, veering left off the road to take the usual shortcut through the woods. If he ran fast enough, he'd be in the clearing within the minute.

He closed his eyes against the cool breeze, relying on his nose and memory to keep him from smacking face-first into a tree—he'd done that once. It hurt pretty bad—when you're running fast enough…

Behind him, he could hear the soft footfalls of his cousin—the crunching of dried pine needles and every now and then the cracking of a dead twig.

'Do you think that old cooze will ever shave her mustache?'

Hiroshi snickered, but otherwise ignored the voice that so often made snide comments—especially about his Math teacher and her hormone problems.

"Daphne," he called, and whistled once when he broke through the trees and into the small clearing. Slowing to a walk and waiting for the kitsune, he listened for a moment before he could hear the dog running around the side of the house in the distance. She always waited outside for them to return—he couldn't remember a single day that she hadn't been ready to greet them, always lying in the shade of the bushes until she heard his call.

She went to Miroku first, nosing the silent boy's palm and waited for him to rub her head, letting his fingers glide along the fur of her back as she slipped from beneath him and sat down in front of Hiro, who'd dropped his pack and fell to his knees to pet her.

"Hey, old girl. Too hot out here for you?" he asked, smiling thoughtfully as the tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth. She remained motionless other than the slight pants and the dull thump of her tail, now uncurled, on the slowly scorched grass.

"Maybe we should give her a bath," Miroku suggested at last, watching the dog and reaching out to pat her back, red fur now peppered with white in her old age. "Or we could go swimming in the pond?"

"Do you have homework?"

The kit shook his head. "You?"

"Not much. I still think it's stupid though—so close to summer and all." Hiro stood again, giving the dog one final pat as he shouldered his bag.

"Yeah…"

Hiroshi broke off as a strange pickup truck turned onto the dirt road that led to their house—he could see flashes of faded red when the woods began to thin, and hear the grating rumble of the engine.

"Who's that?"

Watching from where he stood in the middle of the yard, the older hanyou shrugged, though he didn't take his eyes off the vehicle. "I've never seen that truck before. Must be here for Papa… Come on. Let's go grab our swim trunks. S'not a bad day for a swim." He paused when the truck came to a stop at the mouth of the clearing and a man jumped out, slamming the driver's door shut behind him.

It was a human.

'Don't you think that asshole looks familiar, Hiro? It's the dick that got into it with the old man a few days ago.'

Hiroshi remembered the altercation in the park immediately, and instinct had him instantly on edge—cautious. The man was staring at them as he purposefully strode across the yard making his way towards them. Daphne was on her feet again, in front of them, and Hiroshi reflexively grabbed her collar to hold her still once the hair on her back stood to attention.

'What's he doing here…?'

'About to get his ass beat if he's looking for round two with the old man.' It was said with a careless off-handedness, but Hiroshi could sense the suspicion, and new that the voice was on high alert.

Something was happening. He was nervous, and noted that the man hadn't made his way to the top of the driveway beside the house. He'd parked near the woods. If he wanted to talk to his father—

"Papa's in the house," he called out to the not-quite-stranger, straightening his back, and trying not to look as nervous and cagey as he felt. There was a charge in the air, a smothering blanket of hostility and intent, and Hiroshi reached out blindly to push Miroku carefully behind him. "Something's not right," he murmured for his cousin to hear.

The man had yet to say anything, but continued to make a straight path to them, a dark glower on his face. So Hiroshi called out for his father, knowing the older hanyou would likely hear if he was loud enough. "Papa!"

Daphne pawed at the ground nervously, gently tugging against his hold on her collar, and against his better judgment, he released her—grateful when she held her ground at their side. The man from the park—the man that had exchanged harsh words with his father no more than three days ago after Daphne snapped at a playground bully—was almost upon them now.

Tall and thin, though not exactly fit, he was maybe in his mid-to-late thirties, and he would have looked totally average and ordinary if not for the expression on his face. He seemed to have a barely suppressed rage behind his eyes, fixed as they were on the old Akita. There was a set of his jaw, a flare of his nostrils.

'Run,' Hiroshi thought suddenly, surprising himself.

"Oi! What the hell is going on here?" Hiro heard his father snap, and looked over his shoulder to see him stalking towards them from the house. A wave of relief crashed down over the boy. But then he watched his father's black scowl slip into something he couldn't quite read—confusion, then wide-eyed fear, then… He couldn't keep up, and suddenly, Inuyasha was running, and beside him, his dog was snarling—a strange sound for her to make.

A loud pop resounded in his ears, deafening him in a surreal sense, and he whirled back around in time to see Daphne drop like a stone at his feet, smoke still pouring from the hole in her head as his eardrums rang.

And she was dead.

She was definitely, undeniably dead.

With a short cry, Miroku was suddenly kneeling over her, eyes wide with horror, as he buried his hands into the thick fur around her neck before lifting his green gaze to the gun in the man's hand. "You shot her," he accused in a disbelieving whisper, which was more than Hiroshi was capable of at the moment.

He still hadn't been able to tear his gaze from the bleeding dog—his dog, even as he felt the wind that was his father breeze past him, bearing down upon the man.

Daphne had been his bodyguard, his babysitter. He couldn't remember her ever not being there… Though technically she was still here. Except she wasn't. Her eyes were still open, half-lidded and unseeing, mouth open and tongue lolling against the earth floor, undignified and so unlike her.

He looked up in time to see his Papa land the first punch, and eyes still wide, mouth still open, his head fell back down, taking his gaze back to the body of his first and only pet and a stunned Miroku with his arms locked rigidly around her neck.

Hadn't he just been petting her? Hadn't she just been breathing beneath his fingertips?

He'd never seen anything die before.

It was really quick, he decided, and a sudden swell of anger hit him hard enough to leave him breathless as his shock was shoved ruthlessly aside. Shoved aside and mangled like the gun that the man had held—now completely useless and lying in the dirt, forgotten after the older hanyou had ripped it apart.

He should have trusted his gut. He should have gotten them out of there, made a run for the house… If he had, maybe she wouldn't be—

Hiroshi heard his father hissing quick and angry words at the man, whose cheek and lip were busted, his nose broken and eye rapidly swelling shut, though he appeared sure enough that the hanyou wouldn't strike him again as he cowered back a step.

And then Hiroshi heard a feral snarl, and instantly thought of Daphne's last sound, though this was accompanied with words. 'That goddamned sorry sonofabitch…'

He couldn't remember the transition from himself into someone else—it all happened so quickly, like liquid. He'd retreated inside himself, and allowed something else to work his body like a puppet. The next thing Hiroshi knew, Inuyasha was holding him back, ignoring the smaller, but still deadly, claws as he slashed at the strong arms that restrained him, as he tried to lunge at the now-petrified and unarmed human.

Hiroshi saw it all, knew it all, but didn't remember asking his body to move. It was an odd sensation…a numbing, intoxicating and painless, and—

He curled in on himself like Miroku had done around Daphne—he couldn't deal with this right now. 'I can't…'

'Stop cryin'. I'll fucking shred him.'

"Get the fuck out of here!" he heard his father shout, the smell of his copper blood burning his nostrils, mixing with Daphne's and gun powder and that coward's utter terror. "I'll deal with you later! Fucking go!"

"Inuyasha? We heard a gun go off—"

The hanyou's ears swiveled toward his mate's confused and worried voice. She stood in the doorway, Shippou behind her.

"Hiroshi! What in the…world?"

"Don't come over here, Kagome—you'll hurt him! Fuck, Hiro—snap out of it!" he demanded, snatching at him again when the boy had nearly managed to worm his way out of his grasp.

She was running already—across the threshold and down the porch steps.

"Shippou—grab her! If she accidentally purifies him—"

His youki had completely changed. Though still hanyou, there was something cold about it—sinister with its bloodlust, unfamiliar to him entirely. Kagome wouldn't be expecting it…

"Get the fuck off of me, old man."

Kagome's agonized sob broke through Hiroshi's snarls, and he heard his mother fighting with Shippou.

"I am not going to purify my own son, you ass!" she was screaming as she tried to shove his arms off of her. "What's happening, Inuyasha? What's wrong with—Daphne?" She froze when she saw the unnaturally still dog in Miroku's arms. Her grey gaze flew from the dog to her son fighting in her mate's arms.

"You're letting him get away!" he growled, trying to pry himself away from his father when the man hurried into his old pickup. "I'll fucking find you!" Hiroshi yelled after him, as he put his truck in reverse, tires spinning in dirt driveway. "Fuck the old man—I'll find you, and I'll kill you, you dog-shooting bastard! Didn't even have the guts to fight me—Oi—oi, where you goin'? Where you gonna go?" He laughed harshly, a derisive, mocking sound that was sheer vertigo to Shippou's senses.

And hell, Kagome was crying. "He shot the fucking dog," the boy tried to tell her, to explain without pausing in his struggles to free himself. "But I'll find him, don't worry. Stop cryin'."

She cried harder.

"Shippou." Inuyasha growled when the kitsune didn't reply, only stared, remembering to tighten his loosening grip right before Kagome slipped away from him. "Shippou!"

"…Yeah," he finally rasped, fighting to rise above memories he was drowning in.

"Get Kagome inside. You too, Miroku—go."

"Right. Come on, 'Gome," Inuyasha heard the kit say as he watched Miroku untangle his arms from around Daphne's neck robotically, eyes wide and staring. The boy followed mechanically after his father.

"Oi, Inuyasha," he felt his father stiffen against him when he stilled in his arms, a dangerous smile lighting his face. "He just killed our dog. Hiroshi's pretty upset about it, I guess. I mean, hell…she was a good bitch. So why don't you take your fucking hands off me, so that I can rip out that coward's throat, hm? I'll even give it to his kid. How fucking sweet is that?"

"…God…Hiroshi…"

"Ah…Hiro's still cryin'. He'll come out later, I think, after I take care of—"

"You're not taking care of anybody," Inuyasha snapped back coldly, his arms tightening around the boy when he made to pull away. "Now snap the fuck out of it before I have Kagome make you a subjugation charm."

His sneer was unfamiliar, like everything else about him right now other than his face. "She wouldn't. She loves me too much, old man. I'm her baby."

Inuyasha suddenly released him, and a wave of black crashed over him.

When he woke up, neck stiff from the shocking blow, he was himself again. A wave of terror swept over him, and he nearly screamed, but then his mother was there, ready to pull him into her arms.

"You're all right," she whispered as his arms scrambled to tighten around her neck, as he fought to steady his breathing. "You'll be fine. You just have to be careful, you have to be calm." He smelled her tears fall in his hair when he couldn't stop gasping for breath, couldn't stop clinging to her as horrible thoughts and memories raced through his mind—raced in time with his heart.

He pulled away when he felt his father's eyes on him from where he leaned against the doorframe, and lurched over the side of the bed to vomit, fingers splayed against the floor as his twisted body heaved. The cleansing smell of the rubbing alcohol coating his hands stung his nose and eyes, but it was so much better than waking up to the smell of his father's blood on his claws.

But that didn't erase the knowledge that it had been there. His father's wounds might have disappeared thanks to his mother, but Hiro could still remember the slick wet feeling of blood, the way flesh seemed spongy and minced beneath his claws, the way he knew it had to have hurt even if Inuyasha hadn't flinched.

And after Inuyasha helped him pull his fallen half back onto the bed, he curled into a ball and ignored them. And after Kagome had cleaned up the mess on the floor, and both of his parents had left him to rest, he tried to cry. He thought it'd make him feel better.

And for a moment, he thought he was about to, but then he heard him sneering at him: 'Suck it up,' and closed his eyes until he stopped thinking.

Two weeks later, Kagome knocked on his door and stuck her head in the room.

He was lying back on his bed, trying to get used to the sound of some dead guy playing a piano. But it did give him a peace of mind he hadn't felt in a while. "Ma'am?"

She grinned at him, closing his door to lean back against it, as though she were trapping him in the room. Too bad for her this was his sanctuary. "I'm cooking dinner."

"Oh."

"…I'm bored."

"Where're Kan and Mimi?" he asked automatically, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't really seen them since Daphne… Just as he hadn't seen Miroku, or Shippou, or even his own parents until the latter felt the need to shatter the new peaceful barrier he'd begun to build around himself before it was ever completed.

Every time.

"Your father took them over to Shippou's to go swim in a real swimming pool. I suppose they're too good for the pond now," she sniffed playfully. When he didn't say anything, she frowned. "Hiro, I'm bo-o-ored," she reiterated in a petulant whine.

He sat up suddenly, his glare fading as quickly as it'd come, and he carefully blanked his face of its irritation. "Is there anything I can do?"—the polite way of saying 'what do you want me to do about it?'.

Her hands clasped together before her, and she flashed him an innocent, pleading grin. "Come cook with me? Ple-e-e-ease?"

He knew what she was doing. He could see right through her. His mother, after all, was just as transparent as anyone else. She just went about getting to the same destination in a different way. He had to admire her for trying, though, so he picked himself up, and pushed forward.

It was a bad day. It had been a bad week. Just as the one before that had been.

But this day, it seemed to be worse than the others, and his mother seemed to know that. They made oden, and when she tossed him a potato, he stared at it, and she smiled. "Try to peel it," she said. "The peeler is in the drawer right behind you."

A week after that— "I'm going to teach you how to use a sword," Inuyasha told him, holding out a black sheath, a silver and ebony hilt protruding from one end. "This is Gintsume. It's yours to take care of. Your Tetsusaiga."

"You really want to teach me how to kill things?" he asked warily, staring at the gleaming sheath.

His father's gaze thinned fractionally. "No, I'm not teaching you to 'kill things'. I'm teaching you to protect others, to protect yourself. I'm teaching you control."

"Father…"

"And what is this 'father' shit? Since when do you call me 'father'?"

"Sorry…Papa," he muttered, but it sounded strange on his tongue now, and Inuyasha sighed, grasping the sword with one hand now so that he could clasp a hand on the pup's shoulder.

"Y'know? It doesn't even matter. You can call me whatever you want—but I don't answer to Dog-Shit anymore," he prodded with a smirk.

The return smile was small, but it was real, and it was the first smile he'd afforded himself since he used his claws against his own father. His Papa.

"Now will you take the damn sword? Acting like you're in a goddamn china shop, not wanting to even touch it." He snorted, thrusting the sword out again, and Hiroshi dutifully took it. "Totosai sucked a shit-load of money out of my wallet for that thing, so you'd better take good care of it," he grumped half-heartedly, and Hiroshi saw a strange glint of pride in the man's eyes as he held his own sword.

He ran a hand up the sheath, stopping at the hilt. Golden eyes flicked to his fathers'. "Gintsume?"

"That's right."

He looked at his new sword again. Beautiful, simple, deadly. "Are you sure this is alright? I mean… I really wanted to…that day, that man—I could taste it," he whispered, suppressing a full-body shudder.

Inuyasha's eyes were suddenly at his level, staring solemnly into his own. "You won't kill anybody, Hiroshi. You're a—"

"A good boy," he finished bitterly. "I know. You've told me."

"—a fighter," Inuyasha finished, glaring half-heartedly at his son. "Don't put words in my mouth. Your mother does that, and she knows I hate it." He straightened up and met the young hanyou with a tired smile. "You're a fighter, right? I'd hate to know you gave up so easily on something this simple."

"Simple?" he repeated incredulously, desperately, sword falling limply by his hip where the tip leaned against the ground, "Father—there's something wrong with me—"

"There is nothing wrong with you," Inuyasha snapped immediately, gold gleaming angrily.

Hiroshi's eyes widened. Why couldn't he understand? Why didn't he know that this was destroying him? "Yes—Yes, there is! I talk to myself—that's not supposed to be normal!"

The man stilled, the fury in his eyes slowly beginning to die out. "Normal by human standards, you mean?"

"By any standards," he stated, urging Inuyasha to understand exactly how bad off he was at the moment.

"You're hanyou. Of course you have a voice. I have one—so does Miroku, and Kan—Mimi, too. Even Shippou and Sesshoumaru, though theirs are supposedly a bit different," he allowed. "Humans have 'em, too. But theirs is much different, much more subdued—theirs is a nagging feeling. Ours talks: a 'voice'."

Hiroshi looked confused, pitiful as he looked around, eyes darting in random directions. Maybe some random object would make more sense of this. "This…you hear this, too?"

Inuyasha offered him a reassuring smile—something he'd picked up from his mate somewhere along the way—staring into his eyes as he shook his head. "My voice isn't your voice. It's like a conscience. Mine tells me when I'm being an ass to Kagome most of the time. I think it loves pissing me off," he added with a sudden dry scowl.

If anything, Hiroshi only looked more horrified, expression morphing into the appalled mask he'd worn back when Daphne was newly dead. He shoved the sword back at his father, and found that he couldn't quite meet Inuyasha's eyes as he shook his head frantically. "I don't want it. You take it back," he muttered, pleaded. "Give it to Kannon."

"Hiro—what…?" Inuyasha stared in surprise at the sword in his hands, fingers curling instinctively around the horizontal sheath when his son ripped his hands from it as though it had burned him. The hanyou remained still, stunned and watching his son stare at the ground in wide-eyed panic, the thoughts that passed through his eyes were so strong and pungent and abundant, that Inuyasha could practically feel them searing him as they whipped through the child's mind. His jaw set, face hardening. "What does yours say, Hiroshi?" he demanded quietly.

"Nothing," he replied instantly, eyes shooting up to meet his father's. "The same thing yours does."

Gold widened, and Inuyasha's mouth opened of its own accord. "…Are you lying to me?"

"No, sir."

"…What does it tell you, Hiroshi?" he asked again, slowly.

"I told you!"

"No, you didn't. And you were lying."

"I wasn't!"

"You just looked me in the eye, and you lied, Hiro," he insisted quietly, a small frown curving his lips, and he surprised his son with his lack of anger.

"I wasn't lying!" he shouted, and Inuyasha said nothing when he smelled the beginnings of tears, though the disapproval and shock didn't leave his expression. "I wasn't!"

"Fine."

Hiroshi glared accusingly at him. "You don't believe me," he stated bluntly.

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it—I told you… I told you."

Sighing, Inuyasha knelt down again, so that he was barely staring up at his son and set the sword on the ground beside him. "Look. Forget about it. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," he complained stubbornly. "It does matter! You think I'm lying. You think I'm crazy—broken. Next thing I know, you'll think I'm not safe to be around—not safe for Mimi or Kan…or Mama."

His father stared at him in nothing short of startled revulsion. "Did you bump your damn head? Where the hell did that come from? Have I ever given you any reason to think I'd take you away from here? From your family?"

"No sir…" Hiroshi sniffled, his head hung and shoulders slumped. "Papa, I lied."

He sighed, settled back on his haunches as he studied his son and absently rubbed the back of his neck with a clawed hand. "Yeah. …You did."

And when Hiroshi winced, Inuyasha grabbed his chin, held his face in place as gold bore into gold.

"What's it saying now? Right now?"

"…"

"Hiroshi," he warned, a growl bubbling up from his throat.

He closed his eyes and shook his head viciously, freeing his chin from his father's grasp. "I don't think this—I swear I don't, Papa! I don't!"

"I know. Go on."

He worried his lip anxiously, and sniffled again before he opened his mouth hesitantly and stared at a bug crawling across the ground at his feet. "…'Bet he's walking around his house right now. Bet every meal he eats taste like he's eating it for the first time. Bet he locks his door every night now. He don't know how easy wood can break. And look at that coward there… Dog shot dead—his own family shot on his own property, and he hasn't lifted a single finger…You gettin' this, Old Man? I'm talkin' to you now.'" Hiroshi paused, and snuck a peek at his father's unreadable face. "...Makes me wonder what he'd do if it'd been us shot dead in the yard. Shot down like a dog. Maybe he'd be handin' Daphne a fancy sword—"

Inuyasha's nostrils flared as he inhaled with the blow that managed to knock the wind out of him. "Enough."

"He's not normally this bad," the boy muttered, grimacing at his father's strained expression and hoarse voice. "He's still angry. But he's getting better."

"'It'," Inuyasha corrected, automatically, and Hiroshi wondered if he was seeing him, or through him to the thing inside. "'It' is getting better. And this is better?" Exactly what did Hiroshi have to deal with on an everyday basis? Exactly how bad had these last three weeks, in particular, been?

"He—it's angry," he justified again weakly, shrugging uncomfortably. "Daphne was our dog."

"I know—she was my dog, too. But you can't kill a man just like that. You know that, right? If I'd let you kill him, what would you've done then, huh? What about your mother?"

He shrugged again, staring at his feet.

"It's hard to wash a man's blood off your hands, Hiroshi," Inuyasha finally said, rising to his feet again, and Hiroshi lifted his head to stare at him in guilty shock. "It doesn't come off like everything else. You can scrub til you bleed, and it'll still stain you. And you'll still smell it. I can tell you exactly what would happen then. After you realize the blood doesn't go away, you'll think about that man's son—who lost his old man over a dog. Over a stupid argument at the park. Pointless, right?"

"…Pointless. She was really old anyway."

"I didn't mean it like that, and just so your…voice," he muttered, trying to mask his disdain, "can shut the hell up, I went to see to the bastard that shot her. But I didn't hurt him. He has a son, so I never would have hurt him. Not over a dog, no matter how much like family she was. But I would have killed him on the spot if he'd so much as pointed the gun at you. Understand?"

"…Yessir."

"You sure? You have to know there's a difference between someone threatening my dog, and someone threatening my son."

"I know."

"You don't look like you know," Inuyasha retorted wryly at Hiroshi's dubious, almost angry, expression. "We all cared about Daphne, Hiroshi. She was a good dog, and she was a part of this family for eleven years. We all miss her. But you can't get mad at me for not treating her death as I would yours or your mother's, or your brother or sister's. That's not fair."

"You miss her?" Hiroshi almost seemed surprised, like he hadn't considered the possibility of that.

"Of course, pup. She was a great dog. She peed on that bastard brother of mine once—which is pretty damn impressive, considering she was a girl. She also covered for me a few times when I'd break something your grandma gave us."

"Yeah…"

Inuyasha smirked at him, and reached out to tweaking a small ear, grinning when it flicked away from him, agitated. "She used to let you ride her back when you were little. You probably don't remember—"

"No, sir, I do. Sort of. Horse."

"And you'd just pull on her tail in return. You were a grabby pup, now, let me tell you. I'm surprised she put up with you."

"Sorry."

Inuyasha raised a brow in veiled amusement. "What are you apologizing for? Being a normal pup? At least you didn't bite—like Kannon. And Mimi spit; she'd actually aim, too. …Never mind, you were all weird."

Hiroshi finally smiled again, though he was still staring fixedly at the ground.

"Better? Good. Now go inside and see if your mother needs help with dinner. And take your sword with you," he added, offering the sword at his side. Hiroshi studied it carefully, tawny orbs glowing as he took it all in once again, noticing all the detail in the design of the black-clothed hilt. It was weird how it felt like an extension of his arm, even as it slept in its scabbard. "Even if you don't want it now, keep it in your closet in case you ever change your mind," Inuyasha said. "But no one else can have it—it was made for you. Kannon and Mimi will get their own weapons one day. …And if you decide to keep it, I'll start teaching you how to use it whenever you're ready. Yeah?"

After a few moments, Hiroshi managed to finally tear his eyes away from the beautiful weapon, and looked up at his father. His brash, loud, loving father, who was trying so hard to hide exactly how worried he was about Hiroshi and his condition.

The boy felt another small piece of himself die and crumble away as he met his father's hopeful, worried gaze, masked in false confidence.

'He's fucking scared of me," it leered, sounding almost proud, triumphant.

'He's not,' Hiroshi thought back, and as he thought it, realized it was true. 'He's scared for me.'

He felt a cruel grin, felt his blood chill as a shiver worked its way up his spine. 'Isn't that the same thing, Hiro?'

'I hate you.'

It laughed, and Hiroshi realized once Inuyasha's eyes became a bit more unsure that he had not responded for several seconds, and that his father was still expecting an answer.

"Hiroshi…?"

"Yes sir," he finally said. "I'll hold on to it."

Kagome stared out of the bay window of their living room as the sun sank, bursting as the jagged trees in the horizon pierced it. She hadn't been home terribly long—maybe the better part of half an hour. She smiled over her shoulder when Kannon perched himself upon his father's lap to show him the good marks the teacher gave him for the week.

"Not bad, Kan," the man praised, ruffling his hair. "Now I get to go tell Shippou my pups are smarter than his, huh?"

"I can tell him!" the boy suggested in his excitement, clapping both hands on top of his head to grab his Papa's and pin it in place.

"Sure thing. Go get the phone; we'll call that bastard right now—"

"Language," Kagome murmured automatically, fully aware, even though she was staring out the window again, that Kannon's snickering was directed at her. "Tell your father, Kannon, that if he's flipping me off, or making faces at me, he can sleep in your room tonight."

"Yay!—"

"I was not," Inuyasha argued, sighing when his youngest son looked devastated at his denial. "Go get the phone, pup," he reminded, relieved when his son's expression changed without him having to bend in the 'bed' area. "You can tell Shippou how stupid his kids are."

"You're horrible, Inuyasha," the miko told him for the thousandth time as the young boy scooted off his lap and began the search for the phone—that had a bad habit of loosing itself.

"Probably," he agreed, placing Kannon's grade folder on the side table beside the chair. "What are you lookin' at? You've been standing at that window for half an hour."

Kagome suddenly met his gaze, grey eyes somber and determined, as she gathered herself up in a manner that instantly set her mate on edge. He could tell she'd been preparing herself to tell him something she knew he wouldn't like.

"I want to take him to talk to someone," she finally announced, and Inuyasha stood up without a word and walked to the window.

He wasn't surprised in the least when his gaze settled on his eldest boy, sitting listlessly under a tree, Gintsume in his lap as he stared without seeing. "No," he said instantly, his tone telling her that it wasn't up for discussion.

"Inuyasha—"

"I said 'no', Kagome."

"Wait a minute," she interjected angrily, jamming her balled fists on her hips as she whirled to glare at him. "Who do you think you are to overrule me without even hearing me out first?"

"His father," he growled, frustration evident as he glared back at her. "And you aren't going to do that to him. I mean it, Kagome."

"Well, his mother," she hissed quietly, "thinks he needs to talk to someone—"

"I've talked to him!"

"Someone trained in the area, Inuyasha," she corrected with an impatient sigh.

"I found the phone, Papa!" Kannon announced, trying to push it into his father's clenched fist, but to no avail.

"You mean a head-doctor," he accused disgustedly, ignoring the boy at his side.

"Mimi had it in her—"

"Not now, Kannon," his mother told him gently, and he could hear the strain in her voice as she spoke to his father with her eyes.

"But Shippou—" he whined, hugging the phone against him now.

"You heard your mama," Inuyasha muttered, finally looking down at him though he didn't smile. "Go play with your sister for a while."

Kagome watched until the boy, dragging his feet, made it to the stairs. "They're psychiatrists, Inuyasha. And they help people cope every day. There is absolutely nothing wrong with seeing—"

He crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin stubbornly as he straightened to his full height, and she knew he was subconsciously trying to intimidate her. "I don't give a fuck what they're called. He doesn't need one—his brain isn't broken," he defended, and she shot him a glare.

"Of course it isn't. But look at him—there's so much that he's bottling up. He hasn't been himself in over three months! It's like he's suddenly a grown up, or trying to be, and—"

"No, Kagome," he repeated, bending forward to meet her eyes directly, and she saw the glint of finality in his ochre orbs. "I'll take him away before I let you do that to him."

"…Stop being dramatic," she breathed, eyes wide, still stunned by the complete solemnity in his eyes as he finished his statement.

"If that's what you see this as."

She stared incredulously at him for a long moment, mouth ajar at his total coolness to the situation. "Inuyasha, he's hurting!" she cried, thrusting an arm out to gesture at the window, eyes suddenly awash with tears. "Can't you feel that? Don't you care?"

"Of course I do—don't be stupid, wench. He's confused right now. Thinks he's a freak. Thinks he's crazy," he bit out, ignoring his mate's gasp. "He's told me this, Kagome. And if you take him to a head-doctor right now, it's only going to make it worse. A lot worse. He already thinks I think he's not safe to be around—you take him to that doctor, and what's that going to tell him, hm? No doctors. Not yet. It's too soon."

"I—I didn't—I don't…" She sniffled, her arms automatically wrapping around herself, and she stared out the window again. With a sigh, her mate pulled her against him, and she let him wrap his arms around her, let him comfort her.

"I know, wench."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes, placed her ear against his heart and tried to calm herself. "I feel like I'm losing him again, Inuyasha. He's hiding himself from me, and I can't stop him—I'm trying, but I can't…"

He remained silent, staring at his pup as a young boy broke into the clearing with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Hiroshi glanced up for a moment before his eyes fell back to the sword resting in his lap, and Miroku dropped his bag against the trunk before walking through the grass to where his cousin was sitting under its boughs.

A memory stirred in the recesses of Inuyasha's mind when the young kitsune didn't say anything, just sat down in the grass beside the somber boy. After a moment the kit stretched and fell back into the grass, arms folding behind his head as he stared up at the branches that reached out above him.

Just like the original half a millennium ago—the silent support on the roof the night Kagome had died and Hiroshi born. A half smile tugged at his lips. If Hiroshi felt he could talk to anyone, it would be Miroku, wouldn't it?

The name was practically synonymous with 'unexpected wisdom'.

'Heh.'

Hiroshi suddenly plopped backwards into the grass beside Miroku, though neither spoke.

Kagome watched them, too. "Think it'll help?"

"That's his Sango, Kagome."

"Yeah…" she breathed at the window, eyes glazing over before she snapped herself out of it. Her eyes flicked from the glass to her still and staring mate. "That sounds really lame when you say it like that…"

"…Go make me some ramen, bitch."

"Go make it yourself, ass," she retorted with no real censure, and he felt some of her misery fade, though the feel of her was still somewhat poignant. "And here I thought you were capable of being sensitive…"

"Your fault for thinking that."

"Come help me in the kitchen?" she asked, and batted her eyelashes at him. He rolled his eyes, but faced her fully, ready to follow.

But she stopped, and threw another uneasy glance toward the large windows, her hands wringing themselves before her as she tried to smile. Tried, but failed. "…He calls me 'Mother' now, Inuyasha. …I really hate it."

He was still standing there when she disappeared into the kitchen.

With a tired sigh, Inuyasha walked up the front steps of his porch, frowning when he noticed a spot of red on his otherwise white sleeve. He quickly rolled it up a bit higher on his forearm, content that it would stay hidden until he could change clothes.

Sesshoumaru had sent him after a right bastard today. Not only did he refuse to come quietly, but he'd also killed one of Inuyasha's comrades—one of the first men he'd ever taken onto his team. And then the freak just-wouldn't-die.

He'd nearly used the Kaze no Kizu within the city limits before he thought better of it.

He seriously couldn't handle another one of Sesshoumaru's hissy-fits right now, anyway.

Wrapping his claws around the knob, he frowned when he found it unlocked, but let himself in, blinking when he saw Hiro standing in front of the door staring at him with Gintsume in hand. The boy had been carrying that sword around for nearly the whole summer, but he'd yet to begin his training, and Inuyasha wondered…

Both stood there for a long moment before Inuyasha collected himself, and began his ritual walk towards the kitchen for ramen and water. "What have I told you about locking the doors when your Mama and I are gone?"

"A lock isn't going to keep a youkai out," Hiroshi told him, and Inuyasha paused, looking over his shoulder to study the boy. "I can protect Mimi and Kan from a human."

"…Is that right?"

The boy looked determined, and nodded once, hand tightening around the black and silver hilt of his sword. "Yessir."

His father watched him for a minute more before grunting and heading for the fridge. "Either way—you still lock the door, got it?"

Hiroshi stood motionless as his father heated up a bowl of ramen, refusing a bowl for himself, and was still watching him when Inuyasha settled down at the table to eat.

It took three bites to officially creep Inuyasha out.

"What?" he asked suspiciously, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and returning his son's stare.

"Alright." And when Inuyasha's only reaction was the raising of a single eyebrow, the boy clarified, "Alright, I want you to teach me to use Gintsume."

Inuyasha nodded slowly, thoughtfully, pushing his food away as he turned in his chair to face the pup. "You sure?"

"But first, we need to talk."

"About what?" For a moment—just a moment—Inuyasha wondered when his son had become a complete stranger to him. The boy had the eyes of a man, but that was just a trick of the light.

"About what I'm learning to fight for."

Well…a very strong, persistent light.

Inuyasha chewed on the words very carefully for a while, before he began, and words tumbled out. "You can't afford to loose control, Hiroshi. Every hanyou should learn to defend himself—"

"From my 'voice' you mean?"

"No… Your youkai blood. Times have changed and hanyou rarely transform anymore, but it's still a precaut—"

"I'm not going to lose control of my youki," he declared with a finality that left Inuyasha smiling at him.

"Is that so? Well, that's one less thing I have to worry about then."

"I'm not joking," he told his father, and Inuyasha sobered.

"I know you're not. …You okay, Hiroshi? You seem a little off."

The young hanyou shot him a quick, almost guilty glance, and shrugged as off-handedly as he could. "I've been thinking," he admitted slowly, "for a while. I thought Gintsume could help me find the answer, but he's actually a part of it, isn't he? A piece of the puzzle."

"What puzzle?"

His eyes were eager, as though hoping his own father possessed all the answers he'd been searching for. "What am I going to fight for?"

Inuyasha cleared his throat after a minute of silence. Hiroshi was still quiet and excited, waiting, but this wasn't something Inuyasha could answer for him, was it?

"I already—" he began but was cut off.

"Not my youkai blood," Hiro commanded. "Not myself. I need a real reason to fight—I can't fight unless it's for someone or something other than me. What am I supposed to be learning to fight for?"

Inuyasha's smile was bitter—after all, he hadn't realized the importance of that until he was over a century old, until he met Kagome. "That's something you have to find out on your own, pup. Can't help you there."

He looked annoyed. "Why not?"

"Because then it wouldn't be your reason, would it? You'd be fighting for mine."

"Are youkai lives worth less than human lives?"

Inuyasha started at the question. Where the hell had that come from? "No. No life is worth more or less than another."

His smooth forehead puckered. "But…you kill them for a living, don't you?"

Inuyasha sat stunned, staring at his son with wide eyes before he finally swallowed and nodded tersely. "I kill the bad ones, yes."

"You told me that blood doesn't come off—that you can't ever forget once you've killed. But you come home and eat, laugh—you can still stand to be around Mother, to touch her, even after you kill. Now, even—now you reek of serpent's blood, and you're eating ramen. You act like you do everyday, and you smell like death."

"…How do you know what serpents' blood smells like?"

"You've killed them before," he replied easily.

"That still doesn't explain…" The hanyou cut himself off with a frown, leaning back in his chair to stare at his son. "I kill to protect, Hiroshi. It sounds fucked up. Almost as fucked up as killing for peace. There are youkai out there that aren't happy that we have to hide ourselves from humans. They get angry, and they destroy—peace, law, and lives. They kill humans that don't stand a chance against them. You understand that these are bad people. …Right?"

"Yeah."

"They are hunted down so that they can be tried. That's my job."

"Tried?" he questioned softly, "You kill them."

And Inuyasha tried to ignore the tweak of pain that shot through him at his son's words. "…Sometimes," he admitted slowly. "If it comes to that. I bring them to be tried—maybe it was an accident, you see? Maybe there was a misunderstanding, maybe there was a good reason—that's our reasoning behind trying to bring them in alive. And some do come peacefully. But most don't. Those are the ones I have to fight, and sometimes, I even have to kill them."

"That…sounds really messed up," Hiro admitted quietly. "What if you kill an innocent man? What if he only fights because he's scared?"

His smile was sad. "We try not to let that happen. We try to make sure we have the right man before we do anything drastic."

"And they really deserve this? To be no more than a bloodstain on your dress shirt?"

For some reason, that hurt more than it should have, and the hanyou blanked his face. "Sometimes."

"What do you fight for?"

"Family," Inuyasha murmured, "and friends. And for those that can't protect themselves. That's an awful feeling…"

"What about all the mistakes? All the accidents?"

"The what?" Inuyasha questioned.

"The people that fight back because they're scared. The ones that don't deserve to be executed?"

"…I don't have an answer to that, Hiroshi."

"Of course you don't," he muttered bitterly, before he caught himself and flushed in shame. "Sorry."

His father looked uncomfortable, but not angry. "Yeah."

"I think…I think I'm ready now."

"Yeah? You found your reason to fight already, huh?"

"Answers."

Inuyasha's face froze again.

He was already heading for the door, confident that his father would follow. "I want answers, and I want to know that the people that die really deserve it."

Inuyasha sighed, hid his smile even though Hiro had his back to him. "Just don't tell your mother that. Matter of fact, don't say anything to her about 'death' or 'deserving it'. She was pissed enough as it was when I had your sword made."

The boy didn't say anything, and unsheathed his sword as he stepped into the sunlight. It was the first time he'd actually seen its blade…

The whole time and he never released it from its sheath…

Long, and thin, it gleamed, a silver deadly spike in the sunlight, but could appear darker than onyx at the twist of his wrist, it was almost like it could attract and destroy light.

"Looks good, pup," the hanyou praised, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the closed front door.

Hiroshi could only stare at it, entranced. It was his. His 'Tetsusaiga', his father had said. Tetsusaiga…his grandfather's fang, his father's fang—wide berth and powerful, manipulator of wind.

The sleek, light Gintsume was his father's claw, and he had no doubt it could rent through anything—and to be given a weapon this beautiful and deadly… He wondered if it had any abilities, and realized that he was afraid to find out.

"And Hiroshi?"

The boy started at the sound of his name, and his wide eyes lifted to his father's face.

"That's a good reason. …Guess it'd be wrong of me to call you 'pup' now, huh? You don't really seem like a kid anymore…"

"It doesn't even matter," he murmured absently, lifting his blade directly into the sunlight where it gleamed black. "You can call me what you want. As long as you don't start calling me 'Dog-Shit,'" he tried to joke, uncomfortable with the heavy and slightly sad air between them.

Inuyasha was startled into laughing, though he was still slightly unnerved by the complete and sudden embrace that Hiroshi had accepted his own alienation with. And then Inuyasha realized, a bit poignantly, that he should have been expecting this.

He'd known for a while now that Hiroshi wouldn't ever be the same kid he was back in the spring. He was evolving, trying to settle on a new self with its new ideals and new security measures. Hiroshi's happy grins had turned into careful smiles, and he controlled his temper, even when he didn't need to.

He'd never been an angry child. He'd always been polite and kind, and then he realized he wasn't alone in his body, which he'd known since before he could remember, but this was the first time it had ever acted for him. That voice with all its taunts and jeers, insults and blistering temper with a cruelty that sometimes made Hiro's stomach hurt.

No one else was supposed to see that he was suffering, the hanyou realized, smile fading as he watched him test the weight of the unsheathed Gintsume. No one else was supposed to know that it still spoke to him, that it still made its presence known to Hiro.

There was that ever-present fear that he would go to sleep one night and wake up to find himself covered in blood.

Inuyasha uncurled his lip and smiled when the pup looked questioningly at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, that's good, 'cause I wasn't really going to stop calling you 'pup' anyway. You could have great grandchildren, and I'll still call you 'pup'.

"I know you will, Father. You still call Rei 'pup'."

"Yeah… alright. I'll teach you stances first. And tomorrow we'll begin training with Tetsusaiga if you think you're ready."

Ugh, I love drama so much, haha. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'll try to have the next one up soon, too.

Reviews are lovely!

Quotes of Randomness:

"What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more' ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine." - "The Gay Science" by Friedrich Nietzsche

"Two souls, alas, are housed within my breast,And each will wrestle for the mastery there." – "Faust" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe