Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha . . .
ROCK ON!!!
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The shades were drawn in the room, making it darker than usual. It was an empty place; there were no hangings of teen idols or pictures of friends strewn about. All there was were plain, white walls, a nearly empty desk, and a twin-sized bed in the corner.
This was his sanctuary.
He sat on the carpeted floor, staring at the package laying on his bed. His eyes, although still holding their empty look, had a hint of curiousity and suspicion in them as he gazed at the brown box.
Who . . . who would send me anything?
Junichiro sat back against the wall, feeling the cold plaster on his bare back. He reached up and slightly ruffled his black hair, releasing two of his many secrets he had taken great pains to conceal. Glancing at the mirror on his left, he slightly wiggled them.
His ears. Dog ears.
Leaning forward, he reached underneath his bed and pulled out an old shoebox. His fingers shook as he pryed off the cover, reaching inside and feeling for the familiar photograph he coveted.
He sat back as he stared at the photograph, their faces smiling back at him. The woman's long, silky, midnight black hair fell down her back in waves, her body clad in an old uniform reminiscent to the ones the girls wore today. Brown eyes, so much like his, twinkled back at him, her arm wrapped around her companion's.
Shifting his gaze, he focused on the only other person in the picture. He was tall, his long, silver hair flowing down his back, his bangs unruly. He was dressed in a red haori, a type of clothing that people wore over 500 years in the past. His smile wasn't as inviting as of that of the woman's, but his face showed a type of peace on his rugged face, his golden eyes sparkling.
His parents. The ones he had never known.
According to his uncle, this picture was taken two years before he was born. His mother was only at the tender age of 18, her face vibrant with energy and youth. When he asked about his father's age, Souta hesitated; he explained to his nephew that he had been sealed to a tree for fifty years, therefore his true age being around 70 at the time of the picture.
His father . . . a supposed hanyou.
Junichiro had a hard time grasping the facts that circulated his father. A hanyou . . . living 500 years in the past . . . having a phantom sword that could kill a hundred demons in one swing . . .
Demons . . . swords . . . it all seems like an overexaggerated fairytale to me . . .
He was told that his mother fell down the shrine's well for the first time on her 15th birthday, traveling 500 years into the past and unsealed a sleeping hanyou pinned to a tree. Inside her was a a sacred jewel, hunted by all demons imaginable, including his own father. The awakened dog demon tried to steal the jewel from his mother, but failed.
The story then proceeded to his mother breaking the jewel into a hundred shards, and his mother and father were then commissioned to find all of them and make the jewel whole once again. However, their journey was made even harder when a demon by the name of Naraku also began collecting the shards in hopes of becoming the strongest demon alive.
So, with the help of a lecherous monk, a demon slayer, and a fox demon, they began the nearly impossible task of collecting all the shards.
During the journey, as he was told, his father and mother began to fall in love. There was something, however, that held his father back; the love of his former lover, brought back from the dead. Somehow, Souta didn't know how, they overcame the obstacle, married, and had him, all while battling Naraku.
Almost two years after he was born, they had returned to the present time, bade Souta to take care of their son, and had a final battle with their enemy. They were successful in destroying Naraku, but his parents themselves lost their lives in the cause.
Or so he was told.
As hard as he tried not to believe such a far-fetched story, he could never come up with enough reasoning to dismiss his father's 'heritage.' The story seemed so unrealistic, yet there was a feeling deep in his heart that told him that the story was definately true. His mother, being the beautiful, strong, courageous miko, and his father, the handsome, brave, tempermental half-demon . . .
And he, Junichiro, who's eyes were the exact replica of his mother's, his father's features reflecting on his rugged face, his hands bearing the same long, clawed fingers and . . .
The ears.
He could never come up with a reasonable explaination for why he was endowned with dog ears. His doctor's couldn't explain it, science and medical books couldn't explain it, but for some reason, his uncle and this picture could.
His father was a hanyou . . . with dog ears.
Junichiro shook his head, believing and disbelieving this fact that puzzled him all throughout his life. I . . . I'm part dog?
As insane as it sounded, there was just no other explaination for his strange features. His hair, although not silver, grew extremely fast whenever cut. He was unusually tall for his age, and his eyes flashed a bright gold when he was angry.
They weren't as convincing as his ears, but they were the only explaination he could think of. He also couldn't shake off his keen sense of smell and his wide range of hearing; as a child he could often hear his aunt talking with the neighbors down by the street while he was in his room.
Speaking of hearing . . . they were talking about me again . . .
It wasn't uncommon for him to overhear his aunt and uncle talking, especially about him. As a child he often heard them worrying over him, wondering why he wasn't like their children or other kids his age. Even though they talked in hushed tones, Junichiro heard them as if they were right next to him.
Sighing, he set the photo down next to him. He wasn't like others his age; when he was younger he couldn't find it in himself to run and skip like the other children. As he grew older, he was much of a socialite. He prefered to be solitary, an unknown figure walking among the normal. He didn't belong, and he knew it.
He never had a true friend in his entire life; sure, there were the occasional 'loners' who wanted to be like him, and the swarms of girls that tried to get with him because of his good looks, but none of them interested him.
Slowly rising, he picked up the photo and placed it carefully back into the shoebox and placed it under the bed. Scratching his head, he turned his attention back to the package that laid undisturbed on his bed.
Who would send me anything?
He sat on the bed, debating on whether to open it or to throw it away. He fingered the small brown package, the sender's name unknown to him. Rolling his eyes, he decided to open it, knowing that he would never rest easy.
With a clawed finger he ripped open the paper and tore the box open slowly. Expecting some sort of prank played on him by his classmates, he held it away from his body momentarily.
When nothing happened, he sniffed the box. Smells like nothing . . .
Junichiro peered into the box, noticing a smaller package that lay within. Turning the box over, it fell into his hand, a small, gold box that had a note scribbled on the top.
To Junichiro . . . Use it with care . . .
Raising an eyebrow, he pulled off the note and set it on his desk. Opening the small box, he was surprised to find what was inside.
Laying on top of pure white silk was a small, purple shard. It looked dull with age, its edges worn and beaten. Junichiro sighed, and picked it up. Another big joke . . .
However, as soon as his skin made contact with the shard, it pulsated, sending energy throughout his body. The young man gasped as the jewel's color began to change, the darkness beginning to fade as it shown a brilliant purple hue.
The light slowly disappeared, leaving a wide-eyed Junichiro on his bed, staring in amazement and horror at the small gift that lay in his hands.
Who . . . who would give me such a gift?!
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Souta returned to the house, mentally kicking himself for forgetting the letter he had to mail when he saw a bright light flash in his nephew's room. He dropped the letter in his hand, his heart racing as he feared for his nephew's life, and bounded up the stairs two at a time as he headed for his room.
"Junichiro! Junichiro, what happened?!" The older man barged into the room, breathless and disheveled.
He searched the room frantically before seeing the young man was on his bed, his fist outstretched as he was backed against the wall. He took in nephew's bewildered expression; he had never seen Junichiro in this condition, his eyes wild as he glanced back and forth between his uncle and his fist.
"I . . . I don't know . . ." He stammered, his face pale.
Souta strode across the room, examining Junichiro. Seeing there were no bruises or cuts, he shook his head and ran a hand through his brown hair. "That light . . . where did it come from?"
With a shaky hand Junichiro brough his fist to his uncle's face, opening it slowly to reveal the newly purified shard.
Souta gasped, reaching out and grabbing his nephew's hand, bringing the small specimen closer to his face. Sure enough, it was the same exact object that his sister use to bring home many years ago . . . a sibling to those that Kagome used to travel between the two times . . .
"A Shikon Jewel shard . . ."
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AN: another chapter . . . I believe I'll be updating "Beneath the Tangles" now . . . so what'd you guys think of this chapter?
thanks for the reviews . . .
stay tuned!