Chapter Sixty: Family Forever
Bright sunshine filtered through the thick forest canopy, dappling the shadowy undergrowth in flourishes of light. Craggy trunks stood amid pine needle litter and weaving through them was a ribbon of exposed earth. A well-worn path, it carved its way over the mountainside, winding upward. Above, lively birds warbled and chirped, praising the pleasant spring weather as they flitted from branch to branch, and they were soon joined by the pattering of footfalls.
A young girl, her skin warm like rich mahogany, jogged up the mountain path. A fine layer of dust coated her bare feet as they nimbly negotiated fresh ruts from the recent thaw, and the sleeves on her threadbare kimono were rolled up tight, revealing reticulated spots on her arms that shimmered like a rainbow in the sunlight. Her wild mop of black, curly hair bounced around her shoulders as she ran and leapt, and in her hands, she clutched a little wooden box against her chest.
The path thinned to nothing as it met a grassy field and without a break in her speed, she started across it. Her quick feet bore her lightly with neither a blade of grass bent nor an insect crushed. Even the morning dew remained unspoiled as she raced along without a trail left in her wake.
Caught in the vortex of her existence, birds swooped overhead in flashes of blue and gold and followed her like a comet's tail. Deer and rabbits bounded nearby, drawn in, like the birds, to her gravity. She paid none of them any mind. Instead, her dark eyes were affixed on a verdant thicket ahead.
Under the heavy boughs of the stately conifers was a simple cottage. Its wood was bleached and split by the decades, turning it a weather-beaten gray. She ran up the steps, each board creaking, and grabbed the door at the entrance. It jounced down the warped track and the dazzling morning light poured in from behind her, revealing a patch of hard-packed dirt floor and the sooty remains of a hearth.
"Papa?" she called out, and squinting, she searched the shadows in the one-room house. "Papa?"
In the far corner, honey-gold eyes blinked open, their soft glow illuminating the darkness. A man sat atop tattered linens layered over a bed of dried grass, his back leaning heavily against the wall. His disheveled yukata robe hung loosely off his limber frame, exposing ebony skin and the rough brand of a spider that wrapped around his chest.
"Little Oya," he replied hoarsely with love pervading every syllable. His accent was thick and exotic, provoking images of open savannahs dotted with acacia trees.
Relief rolled through her in a sigh that ended with a grin. Eagerly, she crossed the room and held out the box towards him. "Papa, I brought the medicine."
"Oh?" he said, smiling weakly.
"The village healer gave it to me like she promised," she explained, and carefully, she lifted the lid, revealing curling bits of dried herbs, flowers, and bark shavings. "I used my power and made the crops grow, so she gave it to me. She said it will heal you and you'll be all better. She promised."
"Is that so?" he said, peering into the box.
She nodded ardently. Then she opened her free hand and gazed at her empty palm, frowning with disappointment. "I tried to heal you myself, but my power won't work." She looked to the box. "But she promised the medicine would."
"Oya…"
Turning on her heel, she headed for the hearth. After setting the box beside it, she gathered the kindling stacked nearby and thoughtfully piled it over the ashes.
"Oya…"
Breathing in deep through her nose, a warm glow built in her throat and she blew out a jet of iridescent flame onto the tinder. The kindling ignited in a woosh. It burned hungrily and she hefted an iron kettle onto the spit hanging over the hearth. Inside, fresh water sloshed.
"Oya…"
She turned to look back at him, her jaw set. "Stop worrying, papa. I'm going to save you. I'm going to make you better."
"Child," he said soothingly, and he raised a hand, beckoning her to him. "Come here."
Dutifully, she went to him. Long and lean, his legs were crossed in a lotus position and she climbed onto his lap. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, and his arms closed around her in a gentle hug.
"Little Oya," he said, rubbing her back. "I'm sorry, but I don't have much time before I must leave you."
"No," she murmured, and she buried her face into him, smothering her stinging eyes. "I'm going to save you."
He sighed mournfully and pressed a kiss into her hair. "You have so much power. You can fix so many things at the brink of death. But this is something you can't make better. And to tell you that hurts me deeper than this scar on my chest."
Sniffles shuddered through her.
He held her closer.
"You can't die," she whispered, afraid to speak any louder. "Because if you do, then I'll be all alone. And I don't want to be alone."
"You won't be alone," he assured. "Throughout these islands, there are millions who need you. Millions who will love you. And if you protect them and nurture them, they will become your family and you'll never be alone."
"I don't want them, she said bitterly. "I want you. I love you. You're my papa."
"Oya…" he breathed.
"They'll never be you. That's why I need to save you."
My beautiful, stubborn child—" he started, and then his body seized.
"Papa!" she screamed.
Through gritted teeth, he rocked with violent convulsions, his back and head slamming against the wall. The spider grew, its legs tightening around his ribs, and desperately, he gasped for air.
Tears burst down her cheeks and a bright glow swallowed her hand. She pressed it against the spider strangling him and poured her power into it. The glow could knit bones back together and soothe fevers. It could bring the wilted and dying back to life. But her father continued to writhe, foaming at the corners of his mouth.
"Papa!"
He clutched her close, his muscles spasming and his cheek bouncing against her head, and he covered her hand with his own.
The glow slowly dulled until it winked out.
"It's okay," he sputtered through straining gasps. "You'll be okay. Just remember that you're never alone. No matter what happens. You're never alone."
Facets of lavender crystal formed over the spider and spread across his chest. Warm flesh turned hard and cold as it slowly enveloped him, penetrating him through to his core. The wild seizing quieted to a tremor, and then he was still, a statue of glass made of edges and planes. And at his center, she shuddered, her body wracked with sobs.
"I was supposed to save you, papa," she mumbled, her mouth filled with salt and despair. "I was supposed to save you."
Emptiness replied.
And an iridescent light grew in her downcast eyes, refracting through the crystal.
OOOOOOOOOO
Her eyes blazing, Oya roared with rage.
Bright orange and as wide as a redwood, the heavy column above her ground her down across her shoulders and back, caging her in a prison of warped steel. Jagged, metal edges caught on her, ripping her clothes and carving her flesh, and from the wounds, rivulets of blood trickled down her skin and pattered onto the column's stump beneath her.
The weight was unimaginable and battling against it was like standing against a storm surge. So much mass focused on the weakest point and she bore it upon her back. With her knees dug into her chest, the leaning spire bent her, but she wasn't broken yet.
Summoning her power, she braced against the column above her and lifted. Her muscles strained and fangs flashed in a fierce grimace as she pushed up. But the crush was irresistible, and it pressed her deeper into the stump, transforming it from a prison and into a tomb.
It's what she wanted, wasn't it? An end to the sorrow and loneliness. An end to the betrayal and disappointment. To the desolation.
And yet, with another string of venomous curses, she pushed and fought. In all these centuries, if she had been anything, she was a survivor. Even when life had proven not worth living.
Heady like ozone, youki swelled in the air. It formed a thick, opaque cloud and tugged at her braids as it whipped around a hurricane's eye. Arcing lightning flashed, stinging the spire. She felt the electricity buzz through her body and her mouth tasted like copper.
The cloud churned and grew, overtaking the spire in size. And then something massive hit the ground far below with a thundering rumble. A pair of huge paws filled parking lots, cratering the asphalt with their weight.
Then through the swirling vortex, a paw reached out and grabbed the column above her. The padded toes splayed, their claws hooking through the trusses. Another paw followed, snagging the opposite column, and in the dissipating vapor, a monstrous silhouette with foreboding red eyes emerged.
White and shaggy, a canid behemoth eclipsed the city through the latticed steel. She followed the wall of fur upward until she spied a lolling, pink tongue. Feathery at its edges, green saliva gathered at its tip, swelling to a drop, then fell, dissolving a hole in a beam with a sizzle. Sniffing in a gale of wind, the dog scented the air, the nostrils flaring on his giant, black nose. And as she looked beyond, she met his glare. Wreathed in crimson sclera, dark blue eyes tracked her. It was the visage of a primal beast, born wild from the earth. A demon pure.
"If my end has come," she hissed through her exhaustion, the steel bowing her deeper, "It's better by you than by a construct of man. Do it and let me be done."
And with that, his claws flexed, and the metal shrieked where they dragged across it. A groan rumbled through the spire and it started to shift.
Ready, she closed her eyes and waited.
But the inexorable force that imprisoned her didn't crush her into oblivion. Instead, it grew lighter.
Her eyes flew open.
Shreds of metal tumbled past like confetti, and slowly, the column above her rose in a low whine. Her power rekindled and she funneled it into her back and legs, lifting with him. Salvation came as the steel trap imprisoning her parted, and she shot through the serrated gap, the metal blooming outward as she wrenched her way through.
Scrambling for the safety of an adjoining girder, her chest heaved as she sucked in the summer air, its flavor divine. Her body felt light and free and yet a bone deep weariness ached her through. A weariness that she was only alive to feel for one reason and she looked up at the gigantic youkai towering over her.
With his paws still gripping the columns, he eased the leaning spire until it was level once more. But then a rhythmic creaking followed, and she noticed the field of fur surrounding her starting to quake. Beneath his pelt, muscles trembled as his strength leached away.
"Release it!" she shouted to him, then pointed to the crippled column. "It cannot be fixed. You must let it fall."
His crimson glare fell to her, then past her.
She turned, following his line of sight, and in the distance, she saw them. Crowds of fleeing humanity speckling the thoroughfares and parks in the shadow of the spire. When it collapsed, there would be no sparing them. Dozens would die. But their kind were millions strong. And in pulsing waves, she could feel the youki sustaining him fade.
"The end remains the same no matter what you do," she argued. "By dying here, you'll only delay the inevitable. Release it! You cannot save them!"
His claws dug in deeper.
"Do you hear me?! You cannot save them!"
Then a strange sensation of déjà vu hammered her hard in the chest. She stumbled back and her hand flew to the ache and found the spider. Feeling its roughness, a wealth of memory roiled to the surface and the air swelled with the pungent scents of fresh pine and spring grass. And she thought of an old, dilapidated cottage in the shelter of an overgrown thicket.
She looked up at the daiyoukai, his arms wrapped around the spire, and for a flashing second, she saw her father. His lean body, both protective and comforting, sheltering her with care even in his final moments.
Her eyes met the daiyoukai's, and she understood him.
Because she had wanted to save someone, too, so many years ago.
Skipping over girders and beams, she raced to the wrecked column and surveyed its damage. Her attention turned to the blown-out hunks of metal and she started to untwist them as though they were wet clay. Piece by piece, she shoved them back into place, reinforcing the column and smoothing out its jagged wounds.
The persistent groaning slowed despite the tremendous weight, but the steel was distorted and weaker than before, and under the stress, the spire began to lean again.
"Damn it," she cursed.
Little more than a gentle breeze, his youki washed over her, and then the air was dead still, emptied of power. Above, his claws slipped and muscles slackened.
Desperately, she wracked her mind for a solution, and she thought of the ringing strikes made by a hammering blacksmith. She could reforge it. A fiery glow built in her throat, and she let loose a fine stream of fire into the hairline fissures lacing the column. They blazed bright yellow then cooled to orange, and with her strength, she pressed the steel together until the fissures filled and disappeared.
The groaning stopped and the spire settled into place.
"We did it," she said in disbelief. "We saved it."
And with her assurance, his paws fell. A heavy, final sigh rolled through him, and then, in a blast of light, the powerful daiyoukai who had served his people dissolved into a man plummeting lifelessly towards the hazy cityscape below.
OOOOOOOOOO
A gleam of silver in the infinite darkness, Sesshoumaru floated in the abyssal deep, his arms hanging at his sides.
Anchored through the chest by a heavy, barnacled chain, his body, haloed by his thick mane, drifted with the dark current, lost to its mercy. His slack face reflected the emptiness enveloping him, and through waxy lenses, he stared sightlessly into the black. Centuries old, it was a familiar feeling. The cold, and in it, his regret.
Slowly, he blinked.
His regret.
He expected it, his eternal companion, like the loneliness that accompanied it. It had always been there with him in the deep. A constant reminder of what his conceit and vengeance had wrought for him.
But it wasn't there, echoing back at him from the abyss.
Instead, an image formed in the darkness, burning it away in shades of red. And as he blinked again, it solidified into a young man with ebon hair and clothed in fire rat fur.
"Inuyasha…" he said soundlessly, and his chest ached.
He looked down to see his blade, Tenseiga, protruding from his heart, splitting the spider through. Inuyasha's hands gripped the hilt, terror and anguish twisting his expression. It was the last moment he would share with his brother.
"I'm sorry," Sesshoumaru whispered to the image frozen in his memory. "In life, I was not the family you deserved. I gave you none of my heart. I gave our world none of my heart. And yet, with my rebirth, I believe I've become the family you always were. I'd like to think, here in eternity, that you'd finally have cause to be proud of me."
The water rippled, and his brother diluted in the waves.
In his place, another image took shape. A young woman, dressed in green and white from his deepest memories of her. Kagome, too, held the sword. Searingly bright, determination burned in her sepia eyes and she stepped forward, bracing herself to draw backwards, intent on freeing him.
Mildly, he smirked, then his eyes fell, the sight of her proving more bitter than sweet.
The abyssal current shifted, and in another rippling wave, she began to disperse.
Quickly, he reached out to her face, his gentle hand seeking her cheek, and she bled through his fingers, returning to nothingness.
"I'm sorry," he said to the void. "I was reckless again, but for honor this time… and pride. A manner of pride worthy of a guardian and a hero. Worthy of you and the family you welcomed me into. I have no regrets, except… not being there for you one last time."
But only the silence of the deep replied.
Then, piercing through the darkness, a tiny bead of light ignited in the space where she had been. He stared at it, entranced by the beacon as it grew with glacial impetus. Gradually, it took on an iridescent hue and its prismatic colors marbled his pale skin in undulating patterns.
A churning pulsar in the infinite night, it matured to the size of his fist.
He furrowed his brow and listened. Creaking metal and the hum of a bustling city carried through it. He could scent the sea air in the wind and taste faint traces of sooty pollution on his tongue.
Like a dark spear, a feminine hand shot out from the light's center and grabbed the chain bound through his chest. Glowing warmth surged up through the links and radiated through him with the pulse of his heart. And with each beat, the pervading numbness inside him thawed, melting away, and an eternity in the deep, a sentence with which he had accepted with resigned indifference, suddenly seemed intolerable.
He wanted to be there for Kagome one last time. Be there for his family. For the city and the people he'd lost. They were his purpose.
But more than anything, they made him happy.
His expression hardened with conviction and he laid his hand upon the hand gripping the chain, lending her his strength. And together, they pulled.
The links went taught, grinding against each other.
His muscles straining against the unassailable iron, he added both hands, redoubling his effort.
Trembling, the links started to whine and stretch.
A growl rumbled in his throat, rising into a roar through clenched teeth and his arms burned until he felt nothing else but blinding, life-affirming pain.
With a violent crack, a link tore apart at the weld.
And the chain snapped.
OOOOOOOOOO
His back arching hard, Sesshoumaru sucked in a deep, arresting breath.
Air rushed into his empty lungs, filling them until his ribs screamed. Up and down, his chest heaved, and he lashed out, his body half-panicked while his disoriented mind raced to catch up. But despite the thrashing fight in him, a firm hand on his chest pinned him inexorably in place, only granting him enough grace to breathe.
"Relax," she commanded coolly.
He clawed at her hand, but she remained undeterred, as inevitable as the golden sun setting on the western horizon.
"Relax," she repeated.
His heedless panic ebbed as his senses reoriented. Framed in citrine, his slit pupils narrowed, and the world came into focus.
The deep was gone.
Bright orange latticework filled his vision, weaving together with fractal intricacy, and through the geometric gaps, he spied salmon sky fading to rich magenta, its hues speckled with the first shimmering stars of late evening.
His breathing slowed to an even rhythm and the ache in his chest subsided. In the distance, he heard the smooth rush of trains gliding down their tracks and ships in the bay coming into dock. The constant symphony of humanity.
Still warm from the summer day, a hard girder lay beneath him, his body limp at the edge of the precipice. He felt something softer pressed against the crown of his head, and he spied up to catch Oya in profile, her dark eyes reflecting the resplendent sunset. Her legs dangling, she was seated on the girder beside him with her hand pressed against his exposed chest. Wisps of iridescent power swirled where she touched him, and with every heartbeat, he felt a modicum of his strength returning.
"You saved my life," he said raspily. "I am in your debt."
She scoffed, her eyes fixed on the horizon. A breeze buffeted against her body, fluttering the tattered remnants of her blouse and slacks. "It was not you who owed a debt. The repayment was mine."
He raised an eyebrow and waited.
A flock of doves flew through the spire overhead, their flapping bodies in silhouette.
She sighed, confusion tiring her voice. "I don't understand. Why did you commit yourself to certain death to save those people? …Or to save me?"
He blew out a breath thoughtfully. "Redemption for my sins as a former youkai lord. And for my pride in my new home, this city and its people who I've sworn to protect."
"New home?" she wondered, and she glanced at cityscape and its glittering lights. "Only humanity thrives here. There's not one youkai among them. Our people perished centuries ago, and you consider this place home?"
"They're my family."
Her expression darkened. "My family is dead. What I had died when my father was entombed in crystal, and everyone who has come along since then has been an imposter or nothing more than a disappointment."
"And yet," he assured, "You are not a disappointment to them."
She turned on him, her eyes glimmering. "I told you—"
"It's why I gave my life to save you," he said, meeting her glare. "I swore an oath to your family and promised them that I'd bring you home safe. Whether you realize it or not, you have people who care about you. They've become your family by heart even if they aren't by blood."
She looked away.
His jaw firm, he added, "You're not alone. Not anymore."
Her granite exterior fractured, and her glowing irises clarified as tears welled in her eyes.
A long moment passed, and the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, its fading radiance dimming to purple at the edge of night.
"What do I do now?" she asked quietly.
"Go to them," he said kindly, and his hand lifted to gently cover hers on his chest, "Let them be your foundation and begin your own journey for redemption."
OOOOOOOOOO
Two years later
The early morning sun shone down with the warmth of spring on the cusp of a hot summer. A line of sentinels, maple and dogwood in kind, sheltered the shrine grounds in cool shadow as birds chirped joyously from their stalwart boughs. With a bamboo broom in hand, Kagome made her way down one of her home's many paths, sweeping up fallen leaves. The bristles on the broom rasped pleasantly across the bricks, turning the mundane chore she had loathed as a kid into a soothing task she now took pride in. And when she considered it, it seemed like every task around the ancient shrine was dyed with fleeting nostalgia. As though she were somewhere else now and her time here was meant to be savored in her memories.
"Kagome-chan!" she heard her mother call out.
Turning on her heel, she looked to the steep set of stairs at the entrance to the shrine and spotted Mama peeking above the crest. Bulging bags of groceries hung off her arms as she plodded up the last of the steps, her expecting belly reaching the top before the rest of her.
"Mama!" she shouted, and the broom fell to the ground with a hollow rattle. She rushed over and began relieving her of her load. "You shouldn't be carrying so much in your condition."
Mama scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. "It wasn't so bad until the stairs." She smirked. "And even then, I still made it up them."
Kagome shook her head in disbelief. "And you say that I'm stubborn and willful."
"Well," she said with a wink. "You inherited it from someone."
"I guess," she replied, frowning, and then she spied into the bags, perusing the loot inside and discovering an entire grocery store waiting for her. "Why'd you buy so much? With Souta doing his apprenticeship with Bikini Girl at her shrine, he and Grandpa aren't even here for the next week."
With a winning smile, Mama warmly touched her cheek with her hand. "Cravings. You'll understand one day."
Raising an eyebrow, Kagome closed the bags. "If you say so…"
Chuckling, she rubbed her shoulder, and together, they strolled towards the house. Despite their labored strides, they chatted effervescently, their shared laughter light on the breeze.
"You have to wonder," Kagome joked, "Who's benefiting more from this apprenticeship, Souta or Grandpa?"
"Oh, I think we can agree," Mama said, and gave her a sly look, "Bikini Girl is by far the winner. Her shrine gets servicing and so does she."
"Mama!" she gasped, and her hand flew over her mouth to smother her astonishment. "That's disgusting! I didn't want to think about Grandpa doing anything like that!"
She shrugged. "At least you're not there when it happens. Poor Souta. We'll have to look into some therapy for him when he gets back."
Their eyes met, and then another burst of laughter rolled through them. Their mirth hung in the air, as bright as tinkling windchimes.
Then Kagome's amusement faded.
Her attention drifted to the old shed which housed the Bone-Eater Well. An odd energy pulsed from within it, like the heartbeat of a giant. The rhythm struck her in waves, buffeting against her body before flowing through her and igniting her nerves. Absently, she let the grocery bags slip from her arms, and they fell onto the ground in rustling thumps.
"What is it?" Mama asked, a rare seriousness overcoming her.
Kagome shook her head. "I don't know."
Cautiously, she walked towards the wellhouse. Its timbers creaked as she climbed the steps, and when she reached the door, she swallowed on the lump in her throat and licked her lips. Her hand hovered over the door handle. Then the steps creaked again, and she felt her mother's warmth behind her, girding her resolve. She took the handle and glided it down its track.
The morning light bled in from the entrance, giving shape to the inky shadows inside. She could see the barest outline of the walkway and beneath it, the rectangular structure of the ancient well.
Another pulse strummed through her.
And in the depths of the well, she saw a hint of sunlight.
Biting at her lip, she walked towards it and peered down inside. Marbled by wispy clouds, brilliant azure sky met her. She could smell the grass of an open field swelling on the breeze and hear the twittering of birds in flight.
"It's time, isn't it?" Mama said, her voice tight.
Wordlessly, Kagome nodded.
"You have everything you need, right?" she asked, her feet thumping down the walkway towards her. In her arms, she carried the old yellow backpack that had seen her daughter through so much, its faded canvas lightly coated in dust from sitting in the wellhouse.
Again, Kagome nodded.
"Your clothes? Your medical supplies. Your envelope?"
"Yeah," she finally replied, her words hitching in her throat. "I check it… I mean, I checked it every week. It's good."
Her eyes turning pink and glossy, Mama forced a weak smile. "You're going to be okay. We're going to be okay."
Reaching out, Kagome took the bag from her arms and slung it across her back, the weight of it familiar. Nostalgic. "Yeah, I know. I'm just…"
Mama sniffled.
Gently, she touched her mother's round belly. "I'm just sad that I won't be here to meet her, you know?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks and she pulled her close in a fierce hug, filling her with love. "I know."
They held each other, soothing their hearts by breathing in the scents they would miss, and they pledged the moment to memory.
A silhouette filled the doorway, and they pried themselves apart to look up.
Clad in stained, navy-blue coveralls, Sesshoumaru waited, his expression an enigmatic mask. His leather toolbelt hung off his hips, loaded with woodworking tools, and sawdust flecked his clothes and arms where his sleeves had been rolled up.
Mama pressed a kiss into her daughter's dark crown of hair and gave her one last squeeze before letting her go.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too," Kagome murmured back.
Then she turned away. Sesshoumaru leaned to the side of the doorway, lending her room, and she gave him a nod as she passed, her face wet with pride and grief.
Dipping his head under the squared doorframe, he entered the wellhouse, and as he approached, his braid of silver hair swayed.
"Mama did your hair again," she said with a feeble laugh.
"She insists," he noted, glancing back at the long tail that ended well past his hips, "And in the ritual, she complains that there is too much of it while she does it. Mind you, I did not request her assistance. There are times when she is simply a conundrum."
Kagome's laugh brightened, becoming something genuine, and then she looked away as a pall of sadness came over her features. Here was another memory to be locked away.
His warm hand found her jaw, and he gently turned her head until their eyes met. And though his face was characteristically cool and impassive, molten gold glimmered in his irises. He felt the sadness, too.
"For two years, I've been getting ready for this," she said, her voice rough and on the verge of breaking. "It's true about ignorance being bliss. But at the same time, I'm glad that I know what I need to do. My role to play in comforting youkaikind in their darkest time. Being there for Inuyasha and my friends as they face the impossible… And of course, saving you."
He wrapped his arms around her in a gentle embrace, and she gave into the warmth of his body as he pressed against her, swaddling her with his strength. They lingered together for an eternity, expressing with touch what there were no words for.
Then his hands slipped to her sides, and he lifted her effortlessly onto the cusp of the well. She stood there on its edge, nostalgia striking again, and gazed into Sesshoumaru's eyes.
"Goodbye, the second love of my life" she said, caressing his cheek.
He leaned in and took her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Their mouths moved together, desperately tasting and exploring, as their steaming breath heated their skin. Her mouth ruddy, she pulled away from him and committed one final moment to memory.
Then she stepped back and fell through the well.
Sparkling pink light swelled around her, consuming her body, and she looked up to see his face fading from sight. But in it, she saw hope and pride, and she knew everything would be okay. She knew she would always have her family, and she would never be alone. They were there with her in the past and in the future, and most importantly, they were there in her heart.
OOOOOOOOOO
Old trash, made soggy by the recent rain, peppered the dark alleyway. Throughout it, the rare sulfur streetlamp lit it sparingly and the night cast what remained in shadow. A figure moved through it, tromping through puddles, his shoulders hunched and a metal baseball bat in hand.
His sure stride stumbled when another man stepped out into the light. Silver-maned and in a long, sleeveless tunic, his eyes blazed from behind a canid mask.
"The Demon of Namidabashi," the bat-wielding thug gasped.
The demon lifted his chin, scenting the air, and noted the stink of blood on the bat and on a wad of cash in the thug's pocket. His brow furrowed, and the snarling visage carved into the mask matched his expression on its underside.
"Assault and robbery," he said with disgust. "Have you not been advised that such crime is no longer permitted in this city?"
"Oh, he must have missed the memo," another man chimed in.
Clothed in black and red, Tora sprang out of the shadows, a baton in each hand and blue electricity arced from the tips.
His hands gripping the bat, the thug swung wildly at him, and he leapt back, dodging the strike. Tora hit the bat with one baton, adding more momentum and throwing the thug off balance. Then he jabbed the other baton into his exposed side. Electricity coursed into him through the prongs, sending him seizing onto the ground.
Coolly, the demon regarded Tora as he jabbed the thug again, delighting in the sputtering pleas for mercy.
"Are you done?" Sesshoumaru asked with his arms crossed against his chest.
"Yep," Tora said as he straightened up. Beneath his tiger maw mask, he was grinning. Then his expression fell as his widening eyes spied the gray light growing in the east. "$&%$, it's morning already?!"
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow.
"Higurashi-san has another doctor's appointment today," he explained as he raced towards the mouth of the alleyway and the fiery red motorcycle awaiting him. "I have to be there for her. I need to get back and get ready."
"I see," Sesshoumaru said, nodding. "In that case, before you go, I have one question for you."
He hopped onto the motorcycle and fitted his helmet on over his head. "Yeah?"
"What is a memo and how do you miss it?"
Tora chuckled. "I don't know. It's a phrase, I guess."
Sesshoumaru sighed. "You speak phrases that have meanings of which you do not understand?"
His laugh grew heartier. "Welcome to mankind and the future!"
And then, with a throaty growl, the motorcycle jumped to life. In a red blur, he sped off, the highly tuned whine of the engine fading into the distance.
Sesshoumaru snorted. "The future, indeed."
Lightly, he sprang up high, alighting onto the roof of an adjacent building. He, too, looked out to the east and the approaching morning as sunlight spread across his bustling city, reflecting the hope and diligence he felt inside. He'd make them proud. All those who died. All those who survived. His family and home across the centuries.
OOOOOOOOOO
The morning sun breached the jagged mountain range along the horizon, illuminating the thick, conifer forests blanketing the slopes. High on a meadow overlooking Midoriko's cave, a young man in firerat fur and with long, ebon hair sat, watching the dawn break in silence. Not even the birds twittered.
Behind him, a young woman in miko garb approached, the cuffs of her pants soaked with dew.
"Inuyasha!" Kagome called out to him.
As still as the morning, he remained fixed, his dark brown eyes somewhere else far away.
"Inuyasha!" she called out again.
Nothing changed.
"Inuyasha!"
He jumped, hearing her for the first time, and turned to spy back at her. "Kagome?"
"Yeah," she replied, and she settled down onto the grass at his side.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't hear you. I was thinking about…"
"I know," she said, and with one arm, she hugged him around the shoulders. "It's okay."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for the words.
She waited, her compassion overflowing.
"He was my own brother, and I stabbed him through the heart with his own sword," he whispered, his voice quiet with shame, and he plucked at the grass, stripping the blades with dull fingernails. "I thought I was saving him, but last night, I killed him in that tomb. He was the last of us. He was family."
"No, you didn't kill him," she said reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder. "You saved him."
"How?" he asked ruefully. "How has what I've done saved anyone? Everyone is dead."
With a sad smile, she reached into her coat sleeve and pulled out a weathered envelope. Puzzled, he watched her as she bent back the tabs and unsealed it. And with a shake, a sheaf of yellowed paper spilled out into her hand. Reverently, she handed the stack to him. On top, there was a print-out of an old, internet news article on the mysterious Demon of Namidabashi.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she admitted as he paged through the articles and pictures of the demon cradling a girl atop a building and fighting the yakuza in a nightclub. "I didn't want to change what I knew was coming. I wanted to make sure you saved him. That we saved him."
He paused on an image of a gigantic, youkai dog on his haunches, holding Tokyo Tower together with his massive paws. He traced the shape of him with his finger.
Inuyasha snorted. "Do you remember that time we fought him at my father's grave?"
She nodded.
"I remember saying to him how insignificant we were beside our father. We fit so easily on his shoulder. Like we were just specks by comparison." He shook his head in awe. "And here I think dad could have stood on him."
Kagome's smile broadened. "I think so."
Then the last page came. It was a blown-up photo, its gloss still fresh. It was all of them crammed together in one shot taken by a smartphone. Tora. Grandpa. Souta. Mama. Kagome. And Sesshoumaru.
Inuyasha lingered, staring at it, and unbidden tears poured down his face.
"He looks… happy," he mumbled, his shoulders shaking with an impending sob.
"Yeah," Kagome whispered, and she rested her cheek against him. "He is."
"We saved him, didn't we?"
"Yeah… we did."
THE END
A/N: After a very long year, this story is finally done. I hope everyone has enjoyed it, especially those who waited a decade for me to take it up again and finish it. I will be doing a one-shot series for little moments that didn't fit in the main narrative. So, until then, hug your family, whether they're by blood or by heart.