Youkai Don't Cry
By PinkFalcon, one nutty, incoherent night. O.O
Fear. Horrible, overwhelming tidal waves of fear circling through his body—my body. Yips. Yelps. Puppies—packmates, brethren—blood. Laughing. Wolf youkai. Bloody fangs, claws, dripping blood—brethren blood. Mother—trembling, afraid. Pain. But why? My fault? How? Blackness. Screaming. Swirling, foggy blackness.
Eyes. Soft gold, then bright, swirling crimson.
Crescent moon.
Confusion. Guilt? Claws. Huge, immense teeth, jagged-edged, dripping with steaming saliva, burning holes in the stone cave of the den floor. Mother—brother—attacking? My fault? Mother's fault? Why?
Children. Ningen. Smiling, laughing, obvious in the dark—different dark. His night vision—my night vision. Moonlight. Fear. The stones, hurling through the air—a chase—tag? A village, the adults—the arrows, blood, hurt . . .
Why?
Wolf. Huge, massive, ashen-gray. Grinning. Youkai. Trust? Trust. Kill humans? Scorned. Mistrusted. Why?
Hanyou. Hanyou is why.
Humans' fault. But why trust a wolf, murderers of the pack? Youkai brethren. New canine family. Trust.
Broken.
Arrows, pain, yips—my yips?—fear—my fear? Another chase—being chased. Trees all around, grass, fallen log—clawed hands reaching out to grab branches, up into the safety of the brush. Pursuit. Man. Men. Ningen. Arrows. Pain. Claws, gripping—holding—tearing—breaking—falling.
Laughing. Metallic smell—blood of ningen. Swirling crimson eyes. Smell of wolf. Blurry grinning maw. Weariness. Vengeance. For what? Why?
The woman from before. Mother. Older. Grayer. Weaker. New smells—not new to him. Weariness. Fatigue. Longing. Death. Death, soon, death at the denstep. Knocking on the cold stone wall. Tomorrow? Next week? Soon. Today, perhaps. Fear. Not from her. From him. From me. Sweaty claws. Lowered ears. How much longer?
Gone. Long, long ago. Months. Years. Decades. Still young. Still alone. Human settlement. Uncertainty. Again? Just once more. Slowly. Carefully. Warily. Suspiciously. Bush. Clawed hands reaching out to part it. Humans in the cleared village center. Game. Tournament. Laughing, happiness—enjoyment. Comfortable. Safe.
. . . Why not?
Exposure. A pause. Ears lowered, claws hidden, lips folded carefully over fangs. White hair. Not human. Rocks, spinning, tumbling through the air. Aimed at him. Aimed at me. But wait! No harm meant! Not all hanyou are bad!
Crushing sadness. Heart struggling to beat—skipping, bouncing, jumping. Only lively thing around. Hunger. Dismissal. Thirst. Dismissal. Pins. Needles. Dismissal. An image, rippling at first, but becoming clearer. White hair, golden eyes. Watery eyes. A reflection. Watery eyes. No emotion, just watery eyes. Streaks of tan down dirtied cheeks, parting the grime. Dripping from a bruised and battered chin, drying blood still clinging from the stones. Salty streaks. Smell of salt in the air. Smell of death. Death . . . Why?
Why not?
Prey. Deer. No energy. No motivation. No acceptance. Why? Why not? No more prey. No more sun. Speech. Passing youkai. Unresponsive. Unseen. Unnoticed.
Shikon no Tama.
Ningen. Youkai. Taiyoukai. But why?
Why not?
A village. A girl. An arrow—from where? Pain. Searing pain—humiliation. No death. Caught by a human—worthless humans. No acceptance from them. No compassion. No understanding. Brainless, stupid, two-legged parasites, taking from the land, burning, destroying, murdering, worthless, fit for nothing in life or in death. But not for me. A warning—confusion. No death? Why not?
Why?
Curiosity. Stealth. Treetops, underbrush, anywhere. Detection. Surprise. Not a normal human. Miko. She's lonely. I'm lonely. Afraid. I'm afraid. Sad. I'm sad. Desperate.
Am I desperate?
The village again, but no acceptance. A secret companion. In the woods, my woods—my protection. She is safe. I am safe with her. No arrows, no rocks, no yelling. Just acceptance—or is it? Youkai are evil, she says to me. So said the wolf about you, I retort, eyes narrowed, mouth spitting, hissing, snarling. Sad, lonely human eyes. Ears fall back. No retaliation? Why not?
Days. Weeks. Months. True acceptance? No. Ningen, says she. Both of us. Together. Me. Human. No more youkai—dog—Tousan. Not fit? Not proper? Not true acceptance. Why not?
But . . . what else?
Confusion. Sadness. Brooding. Alone again. Nights pass, days pass. Thoughts pass.
The miko again. Hesitation. A smile. An agreement. All right. An agreement. Ningen, and acceptance.
But why a ningen?
An arrow. Pain—unbearable pain. Swimming vision, failing nose—can't smell the forest! Can't hear the trees! What . . . ?
Her.
No emotion. Just more pain. Acceptance. Not from her. From me. Tears. Not since then . . . Now. Betrayed then. Betrayed again. No why. Just acceptance. Again. From me again. Never again. Not from her—not from them—not from anyone. Death? Sleep. Tears. Just sleep? Why not death? Kill the hanyou! Release him! RELEASE ME!
. . . Why?
Tickles. Twitch. Tickles. Twitch. Fog fading. Smells coming back. The forest. The arrow. Her.
Her!
Anger. Rage. Some sadness, but madly pushed aside. Not this time. Not again. He was youkai, was he? There was no difference between him and the beasts of the wilderness, was there? Fine. That was just fine.
The Shikon no Tama. Her. Swelling anger. This time would be different . . .
Confusion. Not her? Again. Sniffing, breathing, scenting. Not her. Then . . . who?
Her. Not her. Her. Not her. Both her and not her. How?
Trust her? Help her? A snort. A laugh. Bared fangs, cracking claws. Trust. Yes. Another snarl. Glinting eyes. Trust me, I repeated. Trust me, and I'll trust you. A swipe. A scream. Laughter—my laughter, my amusement. Both her and not her.
I hoped she could feel it. But my chest—an ache. Why?
Collared. Like a dog. A snort. A derisive laugh. Hollow. Unamused. Confusion in her eyes. Good. No comprehension, no plans of attack. I would attack this time. This time I would not be the one to run. I would be the one to chase.
Days. Weeks. Months. No attack. Not me, not her—both her and not her. But not her. Different. Just . . . her.
Kagome.
Trust? Only betrayal. Not more trust from me. Only betrayal for me—from me. But not from her.
Never from her.
. . . Why?
Another arrow. No pain. Smell of blood, smell of death. Her blood. Her death.
Not with me.
Both her and not her? No. Just her. Different, separate. As I am different. Separate. She is not both her and not her? All right. I accept that. I am both dog and not dog, both human and demon, but not human nor demon. Not dog. Broken in pieces—thirds. Not one, but three. As one. All right. She accepts that.
. . . Hope?
Kagome jerked out of the trance, warm tears flowing from puffy, itchy eyes. Beneath her hands Inuyasha's shoulders trembled, and she felt her heart shudder. Never had she thought . . . never had she imagined . . .
His eyes jerked open as well, locking with hers immediately. His beautiful amber pupils were opened wide, his nostrils flaring, ears not back, just drooping in rejection. Guilt. Kagome's eyes opened in shock.
He was crying.
She had felt the anguish within him, had cried as him, but had never seen him cry. Never. Not once. He hated tears—loathed them, even. She had never fully understood it, and she didn't now. But . . .
Then his ears jerked back. She frowned, recognizing the switch from guilt to shame. His eyes snapped back into focus, then widened as he realized what he was doing—realized who could see him in his moment of weakness. Kagome's chest tightened as she realized what was going on inside his furry head. For the first time she knew what he was thinking.
"Inuyasha," she began, "wait, I—"
But it was too late. A shifting of the dirt, a flurry of wind, and he was gone, his shadow disappearing into the endless sky of dark branches closing off the deepening night. Kagome sighed, but could not dismiss the thoughts swirling about in her head. She could not dismiss the tears, either. And so she sat down on the forest floor, among the leaves and branches, the dirt and rocks and dead insects—among Inuyasha's world—and wept.
Maybe hours passed. She didn't know. She knew Inuyasha would come for her later. He wouldn't leave her. She knew that somehow, as she knew without a doubt that she would never leave him. Especially after that. She knew now, however much he wished it not to be so. She knew, so he couldn't say she didn't. And she understood, so he couldn't say she didn't. He had no more excuses. She knew now. He was unaccepted, misinterpreted, abandoned. Bruised, scarred, discarded. He had trusted, and was betrayed, had overcome his doubts to trust again, and was again betrayed.
Well, dammit, not by her!
"Stop it!"
Kagome jumped, a small cry escaping her lips, and looked up. There he was—his silhouette, anyway, and two claws on his hand visible from out of the gloom, digging deep gashes in the soft springtime bark of a tree. She sniffed, surprised that he had come back so soon. But he only snorted.
"No matter where I go in this stupid forest, I can hear your pathetic sobs and it's driving me insane," he muttered. "So stop it."
She sniffed again, a little miffed, but . . . she understood this time.
"You sobbed too," she said softly, but she knew now the full extent of his astounding hearing. He didn't respond, but she knew he had heard.
"You sobbed too!" she said more loudly, pulling herself to her feet. Small bits of dirt and leaves fell from her, leaving red marks where they had dug into her skin. "You sobbed!" she repeated, "and you sniffled, and you cried—"
"Shut up!"
"—and you deserved it!" He had been about to shout something else, but she heard his jaw snap shut with an audible click instead. Kagome felt the tears really start up again, though they had never really stopped, and took what little comfort she could from their warmth before continuing.
"You deserved to cry, Inuyasha," she said, softly again, her dark eyes on the spot of darkness that was him. "Everyone deserves to cry now and then. So stop being so . . . so disgusted with yourself and just—"
"Youkai don't cry!" Inuyasha countered angrily. Kagome could see an angry golden flash in the dark.
"Humans do!"
"I'm not human!"
"You're not youkai, either!"
"Shut up!"
There was a soft thump, no other warning—no rustle of cloth, no scratch of bark—and he was there before her, stomping angrily over. His eyes were still red—he had been crying as well—but they were also tinted crimson with anger. He stopped just in front of her, ears straight back, fangs bared, claws ready on his poised fingers. He was ready to strike her down, and Kagome wasn't afraid.
"Look at yourself!" she yelled at him. "Stop and look! Look at your hair, your ears! Your eyes and claws, your teeth!"
"They're youkai!"
"Exactly! Now look at your face! Look at your hands—not paws!—and your feet and skin and—and personality! Look at your compassion!"
"I feel no compassion for worthless ningen!" he spat.
"Neither do youkai!"
"Exactly!"
"Nor do youkai cry!"
"Exactly!"
"But you cried!"
"I did not cry!"
"You did!"
Kagome stepped forward suddenly, and Inuyasha's ears sprang up in surprise. She reached up and rubbed her thumb gently down the break in grime and dirt on his cheek where the tears had flowed, and he flinched as her touch irritated the raw red skin. "See?" she asked gently. "You cried. And youkai don't cry. You bark and yip. And humans don't bark and yip—normally," she added with a small smile. His only response was to step away from her, but she followed him. "You bark like a dog and cry like a human. You're neither, yet you're both. I'm Kikyo, yet I'm me," she added, recalling his confusion from before.
He sniffed once, averting his gaze, and mumbled softly, "Once I have the Shikon no Tama I'll be a demon. I won't cry."
Kagome looked at him sideways, but his eyes wouldn't meet hers. "And what of the people you kill? Will you not cry for their sorrow? Will you give that up, just to raze and murder?"
"If . . . if I become ningen, I . . . "
"But you aren't ningen, Inuyasha."
His eyebrows twitched, his gaze jerking up to meet hers in surprise, and she smiled reassuringly. This is where Kikyo went wrong, she knew. And this is where she and Kikyo would truly differ.
"You aren't ningen, and you aren't youkai. So why use the Shikon no Tama to become what you clearly are not?"
"But . . . I thought you wanted me to—"
"I want you to cry when you're sad." He frowned in confusion. "And I want you to yip when you're scared." She took his clawed hand in hers, preventing him from running off again, or backing away. "I want you to save people in need, and kill those who deserve it. Not with arrow and sword, but with tooth and claw, like you've always done. Because that's who you are, Inuyasha. You are hanyou. You are both—the best of both, in my opinion. The Shikon no Tama will only mar who you are; it can never make you into someone you're not."
Inuyasha looked at her hard, his amber eyes intense. She loved his slitted eyes, the unusual color. She even loved the way they burned sapphire and ruby when he was a full demon. The way they sparkled black grey when he was a full human. But they were best now, gold and narrow.
He opened his mouth to speak, licked his lips nervously, a fang poking out from behind his flat dog-like tongue, and said huskily, "I—I would become ningen for you—and for me . . ."
Kagome smiled. She had known that since she had been him. She wanted him to know that.
"Inuyasha," she said softly, "I don't want you to be ningen for me. I want you to be you for me."
His eyes sparkled again in confusion, then widened in surprise when she kissed him, and she didn't let go. She could feel him tremble slightly beneath her lips, his hand unsteady in hers, so she pulled away a fraction of an inch and kissed the corner of his mouth, squeezing his palm gently, running a finger over the calluses on his knuckles and palm, shaped like a dog's paw. Calluses he had never let her touch before.
She kissed the other corner before returning to his lips, and this time he hesitatingly kissed back, unsure or himself, wary of her. She pulled back to meet his eyes, still confused but much less apprehensive, and smiled. "Do you want me to be a hanyou?"
The question caught him off-guard. "What? No. Why—"
"What about youkai?"
"You? A bloodthirsty youkai?" He snorted. "I'd as soon watch a rabbit devour dragon."
"There then. You see?" Kagome's smile widened at the doubtful expression on his face. "You're no more human than you are demon. Or are you the bloodthirsty rabbit? The timid, limited ningen?" She kissed him again before he could respond, a light, meaningful tap before pulling away and starting off into the forest, in the direction of Kaede's village.
Inuyasha watched her retreating form, outlined unmistakably in his night-vision, in confusion. Not over what she had just said, but over what her words insinuated. Acceptance? Had he really found it? After over a hundred years of searching, had he really found it? Not for one or the other, human on youkai, but for hanyou? For him? But how could a human possibly love a dog? A demon? A blend? Neither?
Watching her pause, glance back at him, smile . . . it brought a smile to his own face. He hurried to catch up with her—on all fours, quickly, naturally. She giggled and ruffled his hair when he met her, then turned with him to the village. She didn't ask him to stand up. She didn't ask him to act like a man. Her wordless manner asked him so many things, and yet nothing at all.
He followed her eagerly to the settlement, like a loving dog, like a loving human. And he was content to do so.
Warning (since I neglected this at the top): Fic is utterly senseless and suspiciously focuses on Inuyasha's . . . Inuyashaness. Utterly nonsensical. Heh, I like that word. Nonsensical. You know, now that I think about it, this warning is coming to you a little late, isn't it? Hunh. Oh well. At least I typed it up at all.
Disclaimer: yawn Anyone got a space heater? One of those fire-safe ones? Damn. shivers Um, Inuyasha's not mine, but this small slice of craziness is, so BACK OFF, BUGGER! Or is it bugger off, blighter? Ah, to hell with it, I'm not British anyway.
Author's Note: Man, wtf was I on? I wrote this a while ago—late, late at night when things get spookeh. I finally finished it at my dad's—is it just me or has the room temperature been steadily dropping since about eleven? I long for my firestep just downstairs . . . damn Ethernet cable! When I rule the universe broadband shall be wireless for EVERYONE! Mbwaha. Okay, my fic. This was . . . random. Really random. Obscenely random. I don't even know why the hell I wrote it. Um, confusingness . . . The beginning locks into my version of Inuyasha's past, one I know is not true (don't we all have our versions?), but that I painstakingly wove into Kagome's time with him . . . his fear of wolves, mistrust of everyone, etc. I don't want to go through it paragraph by paragraph, but basically Inuyasha's pack was killed by a pack of wolf youkai, his mother died, he got lonely and depressed and then heard of the Shikon no tama, Kikyo surfaces, Kikyo goes away (mbwaha), Kagome comes, and yeah. I switched tenses midsentence. My 101 teahcer would have kittens. Great ugly wiry ones, because she's evil like that. Gods, this was random. Know who's cool? Nawat Crow. Hmm. That was random too. I'm insane—INSANELY COLD! Jeez . . . I think I'll go now. It's late again, and I'm not making any sense, and I'm effing cold, dagnabbit! I'm at my dad's in Colorado—quarter after two here, quarter after three back home. retrieves Advent prize from Neopets All right, my work here is done. G'night, potential Reviewers! Turn up the heat tonight! Don't want to wake up with frostbite! (I'm a poet and I didn't know it. Uh-hyut.)
-PinkFalcon, signing off!