Did you all have a nice Easter? I hope so. I sure did. I read a ton, and inspired by our protagonist Ren, I got out my own dusty easel and started a painting. So far I've got grass, a tree trunk, and a dragon. I just need to add blossoms and the sky and I'll be finished. Trying it out for yourself really gives one a new appreciation for artists. It's hard stuff! But anyway, let's get back to Ren, and see what she's got in store for today.

Tap...tap...tap…

Having covered my homework with tiny black dots to the point it looks like I spilled pepper on it, I finally set down the pen and lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes with a groan. I can't concentrate! How am I supposed to concentrate on X and Y values when I time travelled yesterday? I hardly slept at all again last night, and the way I've been pacing and jittering and my mind's been wandering all morning, Dad told me I should lay off the coffee when I came out of my room for lunch. I haven't even touched caffeine since last year's finals! My fingers itch to paint, but after already completing two portraits since I got out of bed, I doubt it'll leave my system if I decide to go ahead and make another.

With nothing else to vent at, I glare at the new air freshener on my desk. Maybe if it actually did smell like morning dew like the lable claimed, I could calm down a bit, but in comparison the the Feudal Era forest it smells like a cleaning detergent. I snatch it up and nearly throw it in the trash, then grimace. Mom would want an explanation of why I threw it out after I explicitly insisted on getting one on the way home, and she'd be horrified to know I'm acting so tempermental over a slight aromatic inaccuracy. She'd say it's the lack of sunshine going to my head again.

Something to eat. It's been a few hours since lunch, maybe I'll feel better if my stomach's full. I push out of my chair and go to the door. Upon it opening, a puff of white collides with my ankles. Immediately she steps back and raises her dark eyes, tongue lolling as she rapidly pads her feet in excitement. Finally cracking a smile, I scoop up Una and carry her with me to the kitchen. I pass Mom, who sits at the table on her computer, and yank open the fridge.

"Getting any of your work done?"

I pull out a pear, elbow the fridge shut, and quickly rinse it at the sink. "A little," I shrug as I bite into the fruit.

Mom lifts a disbelieving eye to me from behind her glasses. "Really?"

"No," I sigh, sliding into the chair across from her. Una makes herself comfortable on my lap.

"Is it because you've made a friend?" she guesses, typing away. "She seems like a nice girl. I'm a little worried about all the afflictions she seems to have, but the two of you should be able to relate, both of you having such troublesome conditions." I don't respond, choosing to focus on chewing. Seeing this, Mom sighs, shutting her laptop with a clunk. "What's really bothering you, sweetie?"

"There's just...something I want to paint...and I can't get it right."

She releases another long breath. "Don't tell me it's that boy again." She removes her glasses and rests her hand on the table, a clear indication she's about to get stubborn.

Eying her expression, I lie, "It's not. It's Kagome's house. I wanted to try painting the shrine, but I don't think I got a good enough look at it."

"Don't pull that with me, Ren. You and I both know when there's something you want to paint, you sit and stare at it until you've memorized every detail."

"It was dark! And I couldn't very well go outside to look at it during the day!"

"Sweetie, you really have to let go of that imaginary friend of yours. It's not healthy to still be so obsessed with a boy that doesn't even exist at your age."

"I'm saying it's not him again!"

"If I go into your room right now, am I going to see sketches of a house on your easel?"

…

"That's what I thought. We've been over this, Ren. If you keep obsessing over some make-believe demon friend, I will throw out all your portraits of him. I mean it. Even the ones you drew when you were little."

"So you've said." I move Una down onto the floor. Immediately, she turns and stares at me, waiting to be picked back up, but I stand with the intention of returning to my room.

"Try to get a little work done, today. Let it get your mind off of things."

I nod absently and depart from the table. Back in my room, I leave my desk untouched, and instead plop face up onto my bed. The ceiling is white, but it's not pure white. It's a strange off white that, in the dimness, appears somewhat yellow. It isn't his white. I had thought that shade of white that shines silver in the moonlight was as made up as he was, but Inuyasha's hair had been that white. It actually exists.

...Wait, that's...really strange.

I flip upright, coming face to face with the attempted portrait that stands propped on my easel across the room. It's merely an outline, a light sketch, but it closely resembles the crystal clear face in my head. The pointed ears, his claw-like nails...of course he's fake, he's always had to be...because demons don't exist. Except...they do.

My eyes widen as I scramble out of bed, halfway stumbling as I go to grab the picture. Demons...are real. If I am to believe what happened yesterday was real, that I didn't dream it up, and I'm sure that I didn't, then demons do exist! And not only that, but Inuyasha was half dog demon! D-Doesn't that mean...he could be real?

Forgetting the sketch on the easel, I lunge to the closet and begin pulling out every picture stored until they cover the closet floor, and spill out into my room. The canvases I prop upright on whatever I can. When I'm finished, every artwork I've ever made of him, save for maybe the doodles I've done in my notes and on homework, lays splayed plainly before me. Even in my earliest drawings, poor-made shapes grinded out with crayon, his characteristics are the same. His outfit is almost always consistent, the only differences being the amount of detail as I became able to interpret the image more. Even in my childhood drawings, the markings on his face are the same, even down the the general color I used to draw them. If he wasn't real, if he was just some figment of my imagination, wouldn't he change? As I changed as a person, grew older, wouldn't he develop as well? Unless he isn't made up. Unless I've actually seen him before.

But I definitely haven't. I know I haven't. And what about his arm? In some of my pictures, he's missing his left arm. It's the most obvious inconsistency, and one that stops me dead in my tracks. It's never really bothered me why I sometimes depict him without an arm, but now I wish I'd put some thought into it. And how about the fact that I've never seen any proof of demons in this time period?

...Doesn't that just mean my answers lie in the Feudal Era?

Don't I just have to go back?

Groaning, fall back onto the bed. It would be idiotic to think I could just go back. It's not like it's a place across the street. And if I really wanted to dig around, I'd probably have to spend a good amount of time there, which would entail being absent from here. Mom and Dad would really start asking questions if I started disappearing for days at a time, but it's not like there were cars or phones back then, and I'd have to travel to find answers. Honestly, that last fact alone is enough of a reason for me to hesitate, considering my condition.

I startle when the door clicks, and without waiting for my permission, the person on the other side pushes it open.

Mom's mouth hangs open, having evidently stalled mid intent to speak as she absorbs the mass of artwork consuming my room. Every muscle within me freezes. With each passing second, my heart hammers louder in my ears. When she finally screws her lips shut, my pulse has reached the point of thunder. I don't register it at first when she bends down and begins snatching the pieces nearest to her.

"We're done with this."

Forcing myself to regain some of my senses, I choke, "M-Mom—"

"No more. If I see you so much as outline this man again, I'm selling your paint and your brushes. I'm also making an appointment with Dr. Asahi. I've never thought your vitamin supplements were enough." My heart wilts as the papers crumple in her hands. Then she reaches for one of the canvases.

"NO!"

She pauses and I wobble, having gotten to my feet so quickly the blood's left my head. Paying heed to my balance, I plead, "Leave the paintings...please! You can take the drawings, just leave those!"

My throat cinches and cuts off my air when she grabs the one she'd been reaching for, anyway. "The paintings are the worst ones. You don't have to go back to your school work, but no painting for the rest of today, are we clear?" She tosses the contents of her hands haphazardly into the hall and goes about gorging her arms a second time with my precious work. Every time she reaches for a canvas I renew my pleading, but she simply ignores me until every piece of him is gone.

I manage to keep together until she's left. The second the door closes behind her, I sink to the floor, arms wrapped constrictive around my stomach.

"It isn't unusual, Mrs. Sajima. Humans are social animals, and if they're isolated, they tend to fantasize connections that don't exist. The best way to solve the problem is to remove the false connection and replace it with a real one."

That's not it...I swear that isn't it...he was just...my brain child, the ultimate goal of my art. Every artist has something they desperately wish to depict...but Mom would never accept that. Dad's always been on my side, but I doubt he'll be able to convince her this time, not when she saw that display. Even if he does, she'll surely have destroyed it all before he gets home.

It really isn't an obsession. If anything, I only want to give form to the image I have in my head. It just has to be perfect, or it isn't...he isn't…

But he's real. He has to be. And if he is, then I don't really need to paint him, do I? Because all I really want to do is be able to see him as he is, because...he's precious to me.

When I finally manage to pull myself off the floor, I've resolved. I rummage through my closet for the biggest bag I own and begin throwing in clothes. I add in my cheap backup sunglasses, toiletries, and skin medication, and that night, once I'm sure my parents are asleep, I hightail it out of the apartment, praying to any gods that may exist (which I now believe to be possible, since demons do) that the police don't catch me on my way to the Higurashi Shrine.

We've got a runaway on our hands, and we're back off to the Feudal Era! What awaits her there? The world may never know! Or maybe I'll update with a new chapter in a couple of days and you'll all figure it out then. Who knows? Subscribe, leave a like, and leave a comment if you feel so inclined, and I'll see ya'll next time with chapter five!