Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha he belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
Warning: Contains rape. And a possible lemon...-.-
Every Time A Rainbow Dies
.:Four:.
A hot one is what the DJ on the radio promised. Hotter than Hades, damp like mop water. Inuyasha felt it in the early morning as he watched his birds fly off. He felt the thickness surrounded him when he looked down on what would be, in about an hour, sheer madness. Police stationed barricades along Eastern Parkway. Vendors set up their tents and tables while revelers slowly filled the streets. Madness.
Carnival in Brooklyn-or, as the newspapers called it, the West Indian Day Parade-was nothing like carnival in Jamaica. Back in Jamaica, carnival went on for four days and nights. Calypso, socca, and reggae called dancers out into the streets. People gathered for parties in every home. It was a happy time. Even Daddy stopped working long enough to throw Inuyasha up on his shoulders to watch the festivities.
Up on Daddy's shoulders was a place reserved for Inuyasha alone. He played with Daddy's long hair and stuck his tongue out a Sesshoumaru down below. Riding high on Daddy's shoulders made him tall, tall like the men on stilts.
Sometimes he thought it all had been a dream. Being too little to climb trees with Sesshoumaru, being chased by a neighbors goat, or looking up at green hills, as high and far as his eyes could see. Even Daddy, tall and soft-spoken, always smelling of black licorice, seemed like a dream man.
If he had been older than three when he, Mommy, and Sesshoumaru left Jamaica, he would still have his fathers ways and voice cut firmly into his memory. He envied Sesshoumaru for having know Daddy and for showing off the things Daddy had taught him, such as how to start up a car, change a fuse, or pound a nail square on with his hammer.
In spite of the photographs of Daddy stationed throughout their home, and all of Mommy's recollections, Daddy remained clouded in smoke and green hills. He had been told that Daddy was "a fine carpenter" and that he built the best cabinets, tables, and coffins in St. Catherine. He had been told that Daddy was the youngest of eight sons and, like Inuyasha, was his mother's favorite. He knew a great many things about his father, though none of these things brought him closer to his memory. It was only at carnival time that the image of Daddy, the feel of his hair, the licorice chew stick in his mouth, the clomp-ca-lomp of his work boots, and his singing as he worked, became clear.
When they first came to Brooklyn, Auntie Desna, who was not a relation but a woman from Mommy's village, took them into her home on Bedford Avenue. In those early days Inuyasha stayed posted at the door, watching for those work boots to ca-lomp through the door. Either Mommy led him away from the door and said, "Daddy will follow," or Sesshoumaru would hit him for behaving like a baby.
That summer Auntie Desna told them about the West Indian Day Parade. She promised them a good time, saying the parade "will bring you back home." when Inuyasha saw and heard the familiar things, the men on stilts, the steel drums, the reggae, the dancers in mas, he was sure Daddy would come to him, as he always had, out of the green hills. Year after year Inuyasha searched the crowd to see if daddy was out there, caught in the pushing and dancing. Many a time he tore himself from his mother or from Sesshoumaru to go running after some longhaired man, only to be disappointed. The last time he ran after a stranger, Mommy grabbed him and shook him and said firmly-for she never meant to repeat herself-"I begged Daddy to come, but he wouldn't leave. Once Daddy stuck in his safe place, he'll not budge."
Daddy had sent money from time to time and occasionally a card for birthdays. He even sent Inuyasha toy animals that he had carved from scrapes of wood. But Inuyasha could not remember the last time he had actually spoken to his father. And that was what he wanted. To hear his father's voice.
Inuyasha looked down n the madness, determined to stay above it. The two times that he felt compelled to come down were both because of her, and he would never be so compelled again. Not after she had run from him when all he wanted was to...
He wasn't sure.
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