Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of its characters.
A/N: The final chapter has been cut into three parts and this is the first one. Considering this was a story that wasn't supposed to have more than four chapters, I'm surprised myself. But, eventually, as I wrote, it got longer and longer, and then I realized that there were too many things to fix before I wrote the end.
In this one, you'll read how things went after the war from Inuyasha's point of view. I hope you'll like it.
Chapter Nine: Six months later – Part One
"Fulvia, Fulvia, my love."
In front of her door, it seemed like he wasn't whispering it to the wind, for the first time in many months.
I'm still the same, Fulvia. I've done so much, I've walked so much… I've run and chased. I've felt as alive as ever and I've seen myself dead. I've laughed and cried. I've killed a man in the heat of the moment. I've seen many killed in cold blood, too many. But I'm still the same."
/
The sun was rising over the western lands on that quiet day six months later. For the first time, the air was incredibly pure and free of the raw, sharp smell of blood or medicines; even hatred and resentment seemed to have been reduced to a minimum.
It had begun that period of prosperity and peace that the Inu-no-Taisho liked to call the best after the war. It was also the one that misled most into thinking they could live like that forever; of course, that was not the case.
Recovery in all the Japanese lands, whether they were under human or demonic control, had been fairly quick thanks to the demons' resources. And, although many things remained to be fixed and brought back to their former glory, spirits were already lighter and less tried.
It was, however, as already said, another condition destined to evolve, fleeting – nothing was still and motionless, as history taught.
With time even peace would get tighter, turbulence would increase, rebels would cry out for revolution, find a new enemy or traitors. Finally, mistakes would be repeated. Because if there was, unfortunately, one thing that history never managed to teach, it was precisely the kind of mistake that should not be repeated.
Sooner or later, then, they would find themselves on the brink of a new war, getting blood on their claws and licking their wounds; the half-demon wondered when 'sooner or later' was. He had only experienced one war and the loss and pain caused by it would last him a lifetime. He couldn't conceive how his father had experienced so many without going insane – although Inuyasha remembered well what his father had repeatedly said in the past. Toga certainly didn't feel sane at all after so many conflicts.
"Don't be fooled by appearances," he would always joke with his youngest, "this old man of yours is the craziest of them all." A thunderous laugh would follow that statement, then a powerful pat on the back that always had the ability to knock Inuyasha off balance for a few seconds.
His father had never gone easy on those; it had to be said.
He sighed for the umpteenth time as he looked up and watched the first rays colour the horizon and illuminate the many demons already at work: the rebuilding was never-ending, and everyone, regardless of species, race or mixed blood, was getting busy. Here's another thing Toga had always loved to say when telling his son about previous wars: nothing united people better than that moment they had to put their skills at disposable to rebuild their home.
Sighing. It seemed to Inuyasha that he had done that too many times those past six months, or rather, it seemed to him that he had done only that. The half-demon was probably among those few who had not yet entered the phase of peace and mental prosperity – those few still suffering from the pain and misery caused by war.
Too lost in thought, Inuyasha hadn't noticed the figure that had been watching him for a while, shaking his head when yet another sigh reached his pointed ears. He had enough; he had to shake him out of his misery somehow.
He approached, keeping the noise of his boots on the gravel to a minimum, and only when he had placed his big clawed hand on the half-demon's shoulder did Inuyasha snap of out it. He still kept his eyes on the spectacle that nature was offering him, though.
"What is it that ails you this fine day?" he asked. "I could have sworn that with a view like this, it would be impossible to be sad or nostalgic."
"Good morning, father. I am neither sad nor nostalgic." The tone came out harder and more irritated than he would have liked; Toga shook his head a second time.
"Well, I could have sworn otherwise, son, watching from behind at least." He let go of his shoulder and stood beside him, admiring the beauty of the rising sun.
"I was wondering how long this fake peace will last and when we'll start getting our hands dirty again."
The General hardened his gaze for a moment. "Son," he repeated, "I know from experience how feeble this peace is, how quickly we can return to war. So, don't you think it would be better to take advantage of it now while you can and leave the philosophical musings to another time?"
Inuyasha offered no response, only a shrug.
"It could have been worse," his father added, aware that his son was still thinking about losses and not achievements.
Something crossed the half-demon's golden eyes at those words. It was true; he could have lost a lot more, he considered, even if it didn't make him suffer any less when he thought about his mother or Kikyo's betrayal.
For a moment there, he stopped feeling sorry for himself, and his mind went back to that last fight that had risked taking away even the last good thing he had left: his father.
The battle was almost over. There were very few humans on the field if you didn't count the dead, and Inuyasha had stopped for a moment to wipe his forehead that was stained with both sweat and blood. Just a moment and he heard, from the side opposite to where he stood, the hiss of an arrow that, though not aimed at him, caught his attention.
Later he would have thought it strange that, among the many arrows flying around and near him, that one, in particular, had caught his attention. Perhaps it was the terrible foreboding that made the blood freeze in his veins or the maniacal grin that accompanied the arrow towards its target. The fact is that Inuyasha felt it as clear as a drop of water that falls, breaking the eerie silence of the clearing in the early morning.
He turned his head sharply, and his eyes widened to notice his father standing in front of him, still intent on observing the blade of a spear that had pierced him. A choked cry left his lips as his limbs moved of their own accord, faster than he had ever thought possible.
His mind registered none of it, not the cries of terror, nor the cries of joy, from both demons and humans, nor the sound of the monk's flesh being torn apart by his older brother. In front of his eyes, he saw only his father's surprised look, aware of having been caught off guard. A resigned look.
While the arrow made its way, Toga had a second to turn his eyes towards his younger son and apologize. That moment was enough to make Inuyasha's blood boil; he wouldn't accept any of that.
His body, of which he had not yet regained control, seemed to accelerate in response to the anger his father's gaze had aroused in him. The hiss of the arrow continued to echo in his ears.
Another moment and then his mind didn't register the pain or his senses waning, his legs turning to jelly and betraying him, or his breathing becoming ragged. He only saw his father's expression change from pleading to shocked, his eyes widening and his body preparing to help his son's as the half-demon slumped to the ground motionless and incapacitated.
Before Inuyasha passed out, he used what little breath he had left to address two harsh words to his father. He wanted to let him know that he would not accept anything Toga had tried to say with his eyes. "No excuses."
He didn't stay awake long enough to hear what his father had muttered in response; he only saw blurry lips moving as his eyelids, suddenly heavy as lead, closed.
It wasn't until he woke up and returned to his half-demon state that he found out how his efforts, which in the eyes of everyone on the battlefield had seemed useless, had saved his father's life. Inuyasha couldn't understand how he could have run across the entire field to his father and even beat the arrow; it was physically impossible.
Koga had told him not to care; he had saved his father, who gave a shit if it was physically impossible? Inuyasha had performed a miracle maybe, but the important thing was that he had succeeded. Maybe, it was desperation; perhaps, it was anger. But the half-demon – thanks to his very nature – had saved the Inu-no-Taisho.
However, the result of Kiyoshi's attack had only hastened the end of the battle. Everyone – even those who didn't see eye to eye with the General – had been outraged by that assault and had begun to strike back at their opponents with new, maniacal, infernal fervour.
Inuyasha had missed those last frenzy moments, but he didn't regret it that much. He was sure that when his father had called the demons' attacks more focused and diligent, he had actually meant they had enjoyed disembowelling and maiming. It had been impossible for him to avoid the grimace appearing on his face and his look full of hate. Toga had pretended not to see it, not because he disagreed, but because he knew how sometimes – among demons who had it in their nature to be ruthless – it was impossible to avoid bloodbaths.
He, a fighter, was still a bit perplexed by certain emotions, although he knew how to keep a cool head when necessary – that was something Sesshomaru had inherited from him and not from the cruel lady who was his mother. On the other hand, Inuyasha was always particularly affected. Not only because of his inexperience, but also, above all, because of his human half inherited from a woman who had always been more sensitive than others.
As Inuyasha came back to reality and his father stood silently beside him, watching the horizon, a guard interrupted their moment by indulging in pure formality, clearing his throat and specifying the reason for his coming.
"My lords." Toga watched with an attentive eye as the guard, still young, impeccable in his movements, but still a little bit immature in his features, handed him an earthen urn.
A slightly cheeky smile graced his lips as he looked at the demon he had taken under his wing for the last six months since he had found him dead and still a little warm in front of one of the castle's entrances.
In fact, the attack on the General had turned out to be lucky for Kazuo. The young man had not been so wrong when, before he collapsed, he had thought his body would be found too late. But as events had hastened the turn of the battle, others had also returned earlier to defend the castle.
Among them was the General himself. When there were only a few enemies left, Toga had ordered some of the Commanders to take the unconscious humans to the dungeons and entrusted everything else to his eldest son as he ran to his youngest's bedside. That's why he had noticed the dog demon's body, whose soul was one step away from crossing the border.
He hadn't thought twice about it, seeing in him many other young men who had already been taken down during their first war and Inuyasha himself, who had gotten away with it by the skin of his teeth more than once. He had drawn Tenseiga and got rid of the pallbearer, ready to bring him to the other side. Then, without even making sure that his gesture had been successful – he had no doubts, so he didn't even make an effort to watch the young man wake up –, he had continued on his way, joining his son in his private rooms.
Now, in addition to his duty as a guard, Kazuo often helped with small tasks that the dai-youkai entrusted him with personally, as indeed he had just done.
Before approaching his youngest son, in fact, Toga had asked Kazuo to bring him the urn he was holding in his hands.
Inuyasha looked at it with a raised eyebrow; the stench of death and ashes that the container exuded had not escaped him, as it was quite strong. Toga ignored him for a few more seconds, feigning innocence.
"You know..." his father began after he dismissed his guard, "The day after the battle I managed to retrieve something, or rather someone, that had been piled up with so many other corpses in the back of the dungeons. The one where your brother orders his underlings to throw the bodies of slain prisoners waiting to be burned or, worse, are left at the mercy of the scavengers. Apparently, the preparations for the last battle and later the cleaning of the camp caused those impeccable guards to be a little late in their task."
Inuyasha continued to stare at him stoically, trying to figure out where his father was going with his speech – had he retrieved someone? And why on earth had he had the ashes brought to him?
Toga wanted to roll his eyes at his son's chronic tardiness in understanding the most obvious things, but he restrained himself and continued. "I think that this person deserves to rest and especially a prayer for the good deeds he has done in this cruel war."
At that point, Inuyasha widened his eyes. He didn't mean that... "Are those...?" he couldn't even complete the question.
"Yes, son, the body I retrieved and then had cremated was Miroku's. I regretted I couldn't save him, and I won't deny that I feel a little guilty about his death. If only I had been more precise in my orders..."
"Keh, there's no use talking like that, father. Sesshomaru would have done as he pleased anyway," he huffed.
The General nodded wisely; Inuyasha was not so wrong, but he wanted to make amends for his elder son's sins anyway. "Perhaps you are right, son. However, as I was saying, he also deserves a worthy resting place and a funeral. Since I cannot know what his home village was, I would like his ashes to reach at least the kind priestess who saved your life more than once. I'm sure she would be merciful enough to let him rest behind her temple. What do you say?"
Inuyasha's heart skipped a beat. Kagome... his father wanted to take the ashes to Kagome – without even knowing that the girl actually knew the hapless monk more than well. His heart clenched in his chest: what was the young girl thinking after so many months of Miroku not showing up? Had she given him up for lost or, with reason, dead? He couldn't help but remember the sad face she'd had when she'd spoken of her sister. Now the same expression probably marred her face again due to another person she'd lost to the war.
The half-demon couldn't deny that, during the recovery, he had thought a lot about the young priestess – too much – and had realized he was even a little obsessed with her. His mind kept sending back images of their last meeting; he felt her warm, innocent lips brushing his cheek and thought of how she had put herself in danger for him. Both Koga and Toga had caught him more than once with his hand raised in mid-air as he unconsciously caressed that exact part of his face. But then, when he came to his senses and realized the gesture, he tried to hide it by scratching his cheek.
The wolf demon teased him mercilessly while his father, well, Toga sent him both amused and knowing looks now that Inuyasha was thinking about it. He wondered if his father had chosen the topic on purpose.
He turned his sceptical eyes toward the older demon as if to tell him that he wasn't buying it; something was going on. Toga feigned innocence again.
"Besides," the latter continued unperturbed, "I had said before that I would like to pay my respects and heartfelt thanks to this maiden who has allowed me to re-embrace my son. It is also thanks to her that we have at last been able to speak to each other properly, is it not?" He hugged his son tightly, clasping his head to his chest and ruffling his hair, in a display of affection similar to those he had always indulged in when Inuyasha was less squeamish and reserved. Sometimes he missed that less gruff, more open teenager; not that his son was really an adult now, but he was definitely past that stage.
Inuyasha coughed when he was free of his father's grip and rearranged his hair angrily, glaring at him half-heartedly. "So?" he blurted out, trying to hide his racing heartbeat and how much he wanted to know more.
"So? I've been putting it off for too long, Miroku-sama doesn't deserve it, but I'm still stuck with reconstructions and political meetings and whatnot. I don't think I can move at the moment. Do you think you can do this favour to me, son? I'll join you as soon as I can. I'd still like to have the chance to speak with Kagome-sama and her family." This time he didn't even try to hide the amusement as he trapped his son and the reason behind his request.
Inuyasha, on the other hand, struggled not to become an open book in front of his father, who, under normal circumstances, could already guess what was going through his son's head. He had really set him up good; it had to be said. But was that a bad thing? He had thought a lot about Kagome these past few months, trying to understand the nature of his feelings and why his heart began to beat faster whenever she was mentioned. Yet, he had never done anything about it.
He'd told himself he was busy; he'd told himself he couldn't abandon his friend or his father in a difficult situation. But, in reality, his excuses only denoted a lack of courage – and then he even got angry if someone called him a coward, Keh!
Now he couldn't back down. Usually, when Toga politely asked him to do something, he didn't expect a denial at all. His was just a little show staged to avoid playing the part of the bad father who wants to give orders or use the General's card. But if Inuyasha dared to refuse or even complain, he would have no qualms about giving him a firm order.
He sighed. He always got outsmarted, and he knew the whole thing was an orchestrated plan by his father – only the Gods knew what ideas he had about him and Kagome. While it bothered him a little that Toga meddled like that, he also recognized his father only wanted to make up for the time lost in those two years. He wished to reconnect with his son's personal life, and Inuyasha appreciated it.
Toga was his father again: he joked, he patted him every other second and often laughed so loud his dog ears hurt. There were days when he seemed a little bit lost, and Inuyasha read on his face pain that he knew very well. But at the same time, he had a lot to do that kept him busy, and that's why he ended up thinking less about what he had lost.
Above all, he was trying to spend more time with him. Inuyasha and Toga, despite their differences, had always had a near-perfect father-son relationship. Yet, now it seemed that the dai-youkai wanted to be even more with him, and it wasn't the sense of guilt that had caused the change.
Inuyasha was Izayoi's son, and as such, Toga saw and looked for her in him; that way, he missed her a little less. Moreover, after the scare he had got, he didn't want him to risk his life that way.
And considering these last things, it was also extraordinary that his father was willing to let him go alone. The General probably realized he couldn't be at his son's heels all the time anyway. Inuyasha needed his own space and, most importantly, to find his happy ending.
Toga hoped the spark he had seen a couple of times in Inuyasha's eyes was due to a particular person and that the latter could somehow reciprocate his feelings. He was not unaware, in fact, of the difficulties that half-demons had in finding a life mate, even more so the half-demons whose heart had been broken once.
Finally, Inuyasha smiled condescendingly. "All right, Father." He reached out his hands toward the urn, and Toga immediately handed it to him. "When should I leave?"
"Even immediately," was the demon's reply, followed by another pat on the back and a wink.
Therefore, with robe and sword in tow, the half-demon set off to the Eastern lands without even warning the wolf demon, who continued to have doubts about the spiritual community. He didn't want to be lectured; his already unstable nerves would not have appreciated it.
What helped him was the idea of a walk through the forest, the smell of the grass after a storm that he had always loved and the rustling of the trees that used to follow him. He had already decided he would not run; there would be no hurry – his normal pace allowed him a faster speed –, and he would enjoy the landscape while trying to put in order his thoughts that had been messy for a while now.
His uncertainties had begun again a few days after the final battle. He had finally decided to turn the page and forget about Kikyo, hoping it would help him mend his wounded heart more easily. But the very fact that she was Kagome's sister made things more difficult for him.
He told himself that he had to forget about the latter as well. Otherwise, he would never let go of the older sister either, but then at that thought, his heart tightened in his chest, and he let it go. Not that he would ever see Kikyo again. Even in the still very remote hypothesis that he would meet Kagome again, he would have to learn how to distinguish the two as separate entities with nothing in common, not even blood.
On more positive days, he thought he would soon learn to live with the pain. If his father had learned to do so with the absence of his beloved mate, he saw no obstacle for himself either – only he hoped the process would be shorter for him. He would laugh about it one day, he told himself. If the gods allowed him to reach his father's venerable age, he hoped to burst out laughing at his stupidity and immaturity in a couple of centuries or more.
Best of all, when he was hopeful, he didn't see himself as a lonely man on that centuries-long journey. He saw someone next to him, and that someone didn't resemble Kikyo anymore.
It was a short-lived thought, though, because as soon as his mind began to navigate those slightly more dangerous waters, he would shake his head and call himself stupid for deluding himself so easily – hoping for stuff that would only make him suffer.
He would only take the ashes back to the village, and then from there, who knows. Maybe his father would give him his approval for a trip across all of Japan – he thought it would do him good.
Still, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself busy, distracting himself with those few trusted friends and training sessions, the thought of Kagome kept crowding his mind and leaving him breathless.
How was it possible to become obsessed – he didn't want to use the word infatuated or worse – with a person after such a short time together? He didn't believe in such nonsense as love at first sight. No matter how much his father, a demon of inestimable strength who frightened everyone and an eternal romantic, loved to tell about his meeting with the sweetest and most enchanting human princess who, after only a glance, he knew would become his.
Toga said it wasn't a matter of love at first sight but of instinct for demons. Things were more rational for them from that point of view; they didn't rack their brains, they didn't doubt, they just knew, period. Inuyasha wished he had a little less trouble about that; he certainly would have had fewer headaches, too. But, once again, his human half came back to mess up his life and sanity. To his father, he always replied with a snort.
But even with Kikyo, he hadn't rushed anything, and it certainly hadn't ended so well for them. At that point, it was his inner demon waging war on him: look what happens when you do things properly, leaving everyone their space, the beast said.
That more instinctual and crude part of himself hated Inuyasha after the priestess' betrayal; it couldn't stand that he hadn't gotten over it completely. The half-demon gritted his teeth, though, and ignored those thoughts; he would never engage in conversation with himself like he was a madman.
Yet everything always came back to Kagome.
Kagome, whose name he found everywhere and whose warm gaze and dimple had not left him since the day of the battle.
Kagome, who had helped him even though she had everything to lose.
Kagome, who, perhaps, once he arrived in the village, would help him sort his life and give it a meaning, whether the meeting between them would be a farewell or a welcome back.
Having left shortly after dawn, Inuyasha counted on arriving by evening despite the slower pace. It had never taken him too long to reach the village when he flew; he assumed that a day was enough.
He jumped from tree to tree, always choosing the tallest canopies and enjoying the sunlight that rested on his silver hair, making it shimmer like precious silk. His ears perched on his head twitched agitatedly, partly because of his nervousness and partly because he was concentrating on the thousands of noises in the strangely silent forest. He stopped more than once at some stream to quench his thirst and plucked a few ripe fruits without stopping when he was seized by hunger pangs.
But eventually, he found himself back in that clearing that eyes and heart knew so well.
There, still and motionless at the foot of an ancient tree, Inuyasha lost his courage for a second. The urn with Miroku's ashes, which he had kept safely under his arm until now, was momentarily placed on the ground as he ran his hands through his hair nervously and inhaled.
When he had finally regained some confidence and was about to kneel to pick up the jar, a smell he would have recognized among a thousand invaded his nostrils and stopped him; it reminded him of the forest after a storm, a dewy and sweet perfume.
Inuyasha's eyes widened at first, hearing the crystalline voice humming a tune and then seeing the distinctive white and red of her robes.
The moment Kagome finally arrived in the same clearing, Inuyasha saw everything but Kikyo – despite the many similarities. That thought only strengthened his previous resolve; he should never forget Kagome because of his sister.
He basked in that fresh young vision as the first genuine smile in months spread across his lips. Since Kagome, busy gathering herbs, had not noticed him, the half-demon decided to catch her by surprise.
He waited for her to get back up, wipe her slightly wrinkled pants, and then raise her head.
As she widened her eyes and covered her mouth with her hands, Inuyasha gained more confidence and offered her a bright and warm smile. As the first tears of joy ran down her face, it seemed normal for him to spread his arms in invitation.
And Kagome, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, did not let him repeat the gesture more than once: she let go of everything and ran. She hid her face in his chest, wetting his red robe, as his strong arms hugged her tightly. As if he was trying to make her part of himself, and he finally understood the meaning of everything; it resided in the little body held close to him.
There were no words. They didn't need any; they would share them in due time. Now, they only wanted to treasure each other's presence before they were called back by the world around them.