Chapter 2: the visual fallacy
Disclaimer: boo hoo. I don't own inuyasha.
Pain. It rippled through him, white hot, rushing a speed of hate to his heart, a hate for everything around him, his father, brother, doctors, fate, destiny…
Memories. Electricity cursed his brain, diverse recollections of childhood became known to him like the electrodes severing both sides of his temples, like the leather shackles on his wrists and ankles cutting deep into his young 5 year old skin as he struggled against the restraints in vain. Childhood should not be here, not be here on this table with a humming hellish machine that emitted this pain into his temples, should not consist of wearing a white robe unwashed for weeks at a time, not of a room that smelled like urine and wine with a bed that made the boy's skin itch and erupt in sores. Childhood- what childhood?
The electricity began to fade and with it the memory that the doctors wanted him to cease remembering. Her hair, what did it smell like, was it lilacs or sandalwood? What color were her eyes, blue or brown; her hair, perhaps black like the hours of darkness? What happened that night where the aroma of fertility mixed with the coppery taste of blood? Her scream, her tears…
His body shook with a sickening rapidity even after the damned machine ceased its humming; eyes tried to keep shut but the tears continued to stream down his fiery cheeks, burning skin reached his nostrils confirming his mystified senses…
All is well, and…
"The last treatment is done Master Sesshoumaru. All is well…"
And all is well…
Sapphire eyes of umber opened, revealing to the boy a man with white hair dressed like a doctor, holding a syringe with clear bubbly liquid in his gloved hand. A stranger he had not seen in one year, a stranger which from this moment had taught him the true sensation and full power of hatred.
And from the boy's lips uttered a question that would confuse him for years to come.
"…father, why?..."
And all matters of things will be well.
The man's back tightened with memory as his eyes shot open, causing his upper body to jerk upward painfully in his silk bed, his chest heaving in gasps of the perfumed air let in by the opened window beside him. He took a quick scan of the dormitory room, its sparseness of décor becoming annoyingly acknowledged to him. The room indeed looked like the inhabitant was exceedingly rich; however it revealed to us, the viewers, the lack of personality and the feeling as if this room occupied no human being whatsoever. Not a grain of dust or a peek of a sock stuck out from the mahogany drawers of the dresser, even the covers of the bed were unwrinkled with the man underneath. He seemed to live to disappear, the man appeared to want to be ignored from the race of man, even to be ignored from himself (AN: if that was possible).
As if the man could be ignored; at the sight of him we are struck by his masculine beauty- the sharpness of his jaw line, the prominence of his shaped nose, a clear brow... and yet his most oddest and inhuman qualities were his satin hair that now cascaded down his straight and muscled back like white, pure ribbons, and most importantly of all-
His eyes.
Observe these eyes well, my witnesses, for these are not like any we have seen, and it would be just to dedicate myself to describing them. These eyes are of the deepest shade of a dying sunset before the last rays blessed the water of a still ocean, the light dancing upon the waves in shades of gold and yellow and creams. Looking into these orbs we are reminded of the mixing of these colors: a deep orange, even a light red, but most assuredly an inexpressible gold. Here on the bed the man shone dull orbs in a tried and bored expression upon his hands. They flexed and stretched with a dangerous power that the man dutifully ignored as we notice the awe of their strength.
He looked up from his hands and sighed, sounding much like an annoyed purr.
"Fucking delusion." He murmured in a predatorily deep growl.
It is safe to assume, my audience, that this man's name is most certainly and quite nobly Nishi Sesshoumaru.
The man then swung his legs over the side of the king bed and stood up, his large, naked, lean, and muscled form coming as a surprise. This Sesshoumaru does not seem to care whatsoever that his well- endowed loins are in full view of whoever takes a look out their window from across the courtyard.
At the sight of this, we know it is our time to leave (AN: sadly… I must), and so we depart by way of the window, viewing the courtyard of the dormitory below with its fragrant flowers and most importantly, a beautiful old cherry blossom tree.
We pass over to the other side of the large stoned building where yet another window is open directly across from Sesshoumaru.
As we enter the dorm, we notice the overall clutter of teddy bears, mounds of blankets, books of St. Augustine and the short stories of Dostoevsky and other authors scattered under and within the confines of the small bed, the bed stand lies hidden beneath a pile of winkled letters held down by a jar of dried flowers- probably from the garden of the courtyard- and an opened book by a new author named George Orwell lies dog-eared and browned, most notably owned by a most untidy person. The dresser seems to have taken a life of its own- instead of clothes for the five large drawers there are vinyl records out of their sleeves shoved within the first, the second consists of flash cards with mathematical theorems scribbled on and a Precalc book mauled with a big red X on the cover with the word: DIE, the third shut tight with something smelly within, and the next two drawers completely missing.
Hopefully we have the idea that this person does not certainly care about the state of their commode.
Something shifts under the mound of blankets on the bed and we are nervously aware that in this state of disarray this room could certainly house several creatures. Alas, a black haired head appears at the bottom of the bed, the face of the beholder hidden under the raven tresses. A much muffled groan is audible and then the form stills, a soft snoring begins. Stillness reigns once again, the only movement is the soft swaying of the white curtains from the only window as a breeze drifts within the room.
Atop the dresser is a silver framed black and white picture of a family of four, the only object undisturbed, despite the amount of fingerprints on the sides; a grandfather with a smile that exclaimed his senior rights to make everything he says true, a mother with a soft but quite weathered smile lined with unknown worries, a little boy with not a care in the world and looks like he'd rather be practicing with his kendo stick, and a young girl.
Is this the occupier of this room? If so, let's take a closer look.
With raven hair that was quite ungroomed, the tresses reached the lower back of a quite curvy figure that gave us a hint of the woman underneath, but as we gaze upon her façade, we still see the youthful cheer that embraced it. This face seemed to have the power to reveal every emotion within the girl's mind, and now as we examine the picture, we can see this girl reflecting outward a calm and a peace to her other family, and because of it, the others around look just as passive. She looks as if her time here on earth has not reached its point of trials, and yet… we also have this feeling that the girl has been waiting for something, a change, something that may alter everything around her with a soft sense of anticipation.
Delicately… the door of the messy dorm opened.
A sly looking red-haired young boy appeared and entered cautiously, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, his eyes widened with excitement. An unstoppable giggle escaped from his lips and both his hands slapped over them when the form on the bed shifted once again. He spotted the raven head with his unusually large brown mischievous eyes and tip toed over, his hands still caging his mouth. When he was directly over the form, he bowed down with his hands behind his back.
"… Kagome?" The boy whispered. A snore answers him, causing him to stifle yet another giggle.
Suddenly, a click from the door behind him caused the boy whirl around, the hair on his neck on end and his heart beating profusely. Thankfully the boy breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the new visitor.
"She isn't awake is she, Shippo?" She mouthed softly.
"Sango…" Shippo sniggered quietly. "Nuppers!"
The girl smiled, and unveiled a little cupcake with a single white candle on top from behind her back. The strawberry icing was sloppily smoothed on and was threatening to clump off if it was not level. Shippo looked at the cake with longing, but smiled knowing full well that he'd rather enjoy seeing… the thing… eat it instead.
"Ready?" They both mouthed to each other. Sango stepped closer to the bed beside the boy and they both took a deep breath. "…One… twoooo…. Three!"
"HAPPPPPPPPY BIRTHHHHHHH-DAY KAGOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
The figure snapped up, hair mussed and tangled, and jumped out of bed in a mess of tangled blankets and fluttering pages, but only succeeded in falling flat faced on the floor. Her leg hit the bed stand painfully causing the Orwell book and the letters to plummet to the floor as the stand toppled and the jar of dried flowers defeated gravity and flew up, and up, and up… only to conveniently fall right on the figure's head.
The two visitors looked down at the body on the floor with awed surprise.
"Ugggggghhhhh…" moaned… the thing.
The boy named Shippo and the girl Sango looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
The head looked up from the floor, and one visible sapphire eye glanced at the two with a tired irritation. They both had begun to kneel down to the floor, still laughing and clutching their stomachs, joined the disturbed form on the floor.
"… sorry… hehe… that was just… hahaaa" the girl snorted.
"… too perfect…" Shippo finished with a cackle.
The eye glanced down to the hand holding the cupcake and painfully eased herself upright.
"You guys…" the figure smiled as she moved the mass of hair away from her face, letting the two calm themselves, wiping tears from their eyes. The shock of the whole incident had left Kagome, for everyday something along those lines had happened to her one way or the other. She was glad to have gotten it over with already, even as she massaged the back of her head. "You really didn't have to…"
"We had.. hehe… to.." The boy snickered.
"Well, frankly…" the raven haired girl still wrapped in blankets rubbed her head. "I… um… sorta forgot."
The two visitors abruptly stopped laughing.
The mussed girl looked at the two innocently. "What? I mean, you know… with junior year coming up… and mom… and the tournament…"
"the… war." Sango finished.
"Yeah… that." The three sat in nervous silence, recalling the past month of April where the news reporters on the radio had confessed that the Soviets and the Japanese had signed a neutrality pact, the Germans had captured Athens and Thessalonica and Sollum…
"Well!" Shippo exclaimed anxiously. "Right now, let's remember that it's Kagome's 17th birthday today, and just try to… forget… about other things. Huh? Am I right?"
The two girls smiled at their younger childhood friend, and silently agreed.
"Cupcake?"
Kagome looked down at hand of Sango, the delicacy somewhat melted and quite eccentric. She recalled that sugar, flour, and the aluminum foil was rationed at this time in the war, and was particularly hard to obtain. She felt a sincere happiness for the friends she had around her at that moment, and smiled. Who were the ones that would go down to the cooks in the cafeteria to make a special request, one that involved using the school's rations- going as far as to pay for those provisions used- just for a cupcake? Who were the ones that risked punishment for creating havoc so early in the morning, not even caring if the rest of the school woke just as long as they could give her a special little treat?
Familiar warmth filled the heart of the disheveled girl on the floor of a messy room, sitting across from her friends. And yet as she memorized each of their faces, she began to have that familiar feeling again, that this may be the last time they'd see each other, that some bomb may very well hit London that day and she'd never see either one ever again. The dream replayed in her head once again…
"Promise me something… both of you."
The two tilted their heads with a questioning in their eyes.
"Whatever happens, to either one of us… promise that… we'll always find one another? Or try to?"
"What…?"
"After this war, I wanna know you guys are safe. Just promise, okay?"
Both shook their heads with worried expressions.
"Good. Then let's share this beautiful cake."
As she split the cake in threes with her fingers cute clumsily, the aura of her worry seeped outward to her surroundings, as if she knew that today would be the day of reckoning. She handed the pieces to her friends and watched them eat with delight as she took the tinfoil and wrapped hers.
"Man," Shippo exclaimed as he licked his fingers. "those cooks in the café really do know how to cook."
"If only they did this everyday for our meals. Then maybe they wouldn't complain about so many of us being 'so bloody skinny!'" Sango laughed, her minds eye imagining the jolly and plump cooks in the kitchen that morning, their faces flushed and glad to do whatever for Kagome. '…that sweet girl's birthday!...' 'why, yes of course we'll make something, it'll be little but it'll be quite something…' 'tell that girl to drink her herbal tea, she's looking quite uneasy lately…' 'oh bloody hell the oven!' Sango smiled as she savored the icing on her fingers, and glance upon her best friend.
Suddenly, footsteps could be heard in the hall.
"Guys!" Kagome snapped out of her stupor and whispered "You have to go! It's probably the dean, and Shippo- you'll get in biggg trouble if they find you in the girl's dorm!"
Their little party over the three jumped up and ran quietly to the door. Kagome looked back at her clock: 6:04, thirty minutes before students are allowed to roam the halls. With thirty minutes, the most punishment they'd get was two detentions, but she was determined to get them out without any incident.
Kagome opened the door softly and poked her head out, and looked down the hall. At the far right, an old woman strolled with her chin up, her back facing them.
"It's Miss Strudel…"
"Can we go?" mouthed Sango.
The woman began to reach the corner of the hall.
"Leave…." Kagome breathed. "….now!"
The two bolted out the door and ran softly down the hall; Sango reached her room a couple of doors down, while Shippo flew. The woman was almost at the corner, and Kagome looked over to the boy's flaming red hair just as he was reaching the opposite corner, and thankfully turned. Kagome quickly shut her door with a soft click, just as the woman turned completely around to walk down the hallway once again, one round down, three more to go.
Kagome let out a long held breath, and closed her eyes.
Authors notes: excuse me, but I find this substantially hilarious- I'm listening to oldies while writing this (blackbird, American pie, piano man), and its making me invariably happy, which is unusual, cause this chapter is very… ahem… sad and depressing, maybe only at Sesshoumaru's part. So if you come across a sentence or two that don't fit in with the mood of the rest of the chapter, tell me- cause I really don't want to look like an idiot.
And sorry about Miss Strudel. I couldn't think of a better name, and so I looked down at my hand, and alas! What other perfect name could fit both a pastry and a person! Ha!
So sorry about the delay of updates, but im supposed to go to this festival soon, and we've been going crazy about it- 27 people coming along with us. Terribly terribly sorry, a fair punishment would be not to give any reviews.
sniffle
If you really wanna make me suffer.