Disclaimer:

All characters in the InuYasha-verse belong to the genius manga-ka, Rumiko Takahashi.

Also, as a side-note, this fic was written as a gift for my lovely friend, Jessica, via the wonderfully fun fanfic/fanart Secret Santa community on LiveJournal, Himitsu Santa.

"Pieces"

A strong wind blows; a lingering reminder of the sudden shower that had enveloped the countryside late that morning. It sings through the browning autumn leaves, sweeping dusty golds and burnt reds across the sky like paint bleeding with water across a canvas.

It weaves its way through her hair, tangling ebony strands and blowing it about in shining tufts. It tugs at the hem of her skirt, earning an occasional appreciative glance from Miroku, followed by a sharp slap from Sango, and a low warning growl from your own direction. Shippou yelps, and takes refuge behind one of her long legs. The threat wasn't directed towards him, but it really doesn't make much difference.

You watch as one of the greater gusts nearly sends the kitsune tumbling between her feet, eliciting a sharp intake of breath on her part as she nearly trips over the scurrying little ball of fur.

"Shippou-chan!" she chides (though only halfheartedly) as she plucks the young demon up from the ground before he can dash back and forth between her steps again. "If you aren't careful, I might break my neck!"

"And then I'd have to break yours," you grumble matter-of-factly at the young fox, who is now clinging comfortably to her midsection, and throwing you a ridiculously triumphant look over her shoulder. Shippou pales at your remark, however, and darts back between her arms quickly, whimpering.

She shoots you a familiarly exasperated glare over her shoulder, and huffs a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, you two. Doesn't snarling back and forth ever get old?"

There is a chorus of "…No?" from the both of you, and she sighs again, yet more amusement is in it this time. She turns again to face forward, and walks on.

She is ahead and to the right of you by a step and a half; Miroku and Sango have momentarily aired their grievances and paired up ahead of you by about a yard, as usual. You take the opportunity this pace provides to study her more closely as you fall back into the pace from earlier.

There was something fundamentally kind in Kagome that he had never seen in Kikyou's nature; something that made it nearly impossible to mistake the two of them since he first set eyes on the latter's reincarnate.

It wasn't that Kikyou hadn't been kind. After all, she had been the first to treat him as an equal, rather than a nuisance or unfortunate stain among the tapestry of those she dutifully protected. Hers was a quiet, hidden kindness that needed to be drawn out. Kagome's, on the other hand, was simply on the surface; on display for anyone to see. But there was a smaller, more subtle difference between their personalities as well.

It hid in small places; the smoother upward curve to Kagome's smile, the gentler gaze, the general softness of her figure and her movements. It wasn't the same casual grace that the reincarnated miko possessed, for Kikyou seemed overall much older, much wiser in some ways… Yet somehow, Kagome was in many ways wiser.

She lets out a soft gasp of surprise; you interrupt your own train of thought, distracted. A butterfly has landed on the tip of her nose -- she stares down at it, slightly cross-eyed, the tinkling of her startled laughter ringing clear through the companionable silence that has fallen over your traveling group.

Shippou stares up at the colorful insect curiously from where he is nestled against her chest, and reaches a tentative paw up to touch it. Kagome dismisses this gesture with a gentle pressure on his side, her eyes struggling to choose between the butterfly in the too-close foreground, and Shippou's face, which blurs in and out of focus behind it. She wrinkles her nose cutely, which pushes her soft lips and pert chin into a kind of half-pout without her realizing it. You can't help but smile at the expression; can't help but laugh inwardly at the contrast between her current behavior and your previous train of thought.

She was an odd mixture -- so young and so old at once, sometimes. Both in the right ways and at the right times -- maybe that was the wisdom she had all to herself; the balance between the two.

She nudges her nose upwards again, a little more insistent this time.

"But can't I just tap it?" Shippou asks, more curious than ever. "It'd fly off for sure if I did."

But she shakes her head -- the bug still doesn't budge -- in the negative. "If you touch its wings, it won't be able to fly anymore," she explains softly. She chooses this time to focus inward as much as she can, yet she is only met with still-blurry bright colors. The tiny wings are still too close to her eyes to see properly.

"Why not?"

You snort inwardly. Doesn't that little brat ever run out of questions?

"Butterflies have this fine, fine dust all over their wings," she explains patiently, and you still marvel even now at how tolerant she can be. "If you touch them, the dust goes away, and they can't fly without it."

"I didn't know," the little fox says, gazing up at the bug in awe.

Her brows knit together as she pinches her face tightly one last time; the butterfly takes the kindhearted hint at last, and sets off again.

Kagome was less judgmental, more forgiving; taking on an almost motherly role in response to Shippou's wide open neediness… Yet at the same time, she was far braver than he could have hoped for from the beginning of this crazed adventure.

The air around her had always been inviting, while Kikyou's was discernibly cold; almost harshly so. Though this was arguably due to her unexpected and rather violent return to the land of the living, it had always been there, just beneath the surface. In a way, the tragic miko had constantly lived in limbo, vacillating between fight and flight -- she could either give up and run, or hold her head high and maintain her cold resolve. It really wasn't much of a choice.

In a stark comparison to Kikyou's unwavering power, Kagome had seemed rather weak and useless at first. Then again, she had proven that assumption wrong rather quickly. Or perhaps she had simply grown quite a bit in a shorter time than anyone could have anticipated. He wasn't sure; he didn't know whether she knew, either.

Your gaze strays from her face down to her fingers. More specifically, the fingers of her left hand, which sways lazily along the curve of her hip, as Shippou has cuddled into the crook of her right arm. The chain woven between her fingers catches the light that now breaks through the remaining heavy clouds of that morning.

It's the chain she had used to carry the Shikon no Tama, long ago. It's been empty for ages, but you've known for just as long that she still wears it beneath her shirt.

The first time you noticed this was the first time she took it off, after the shards had already been lost. It had been so long since she had even used the chain that you were surprised she still had it. You didn't mention it at the time; you thought perhaps she had gotten used to wearing it, and was now simply choosing to discard it.

But then she had clenched it tightly in her hand, the delicate chain tangled and wrapped around her fingers. She held it for a while; her knuckles were quite white by the time she let it go.

Where did she get her strength from? She seemed so fearless, no matter what horrific odds they faced. Not that he was afraid -- he was far too reckless to feel that sort of selfish fear. No, he was afraid for her sake. And he seemed to rub off on her in all the wrong ways; these days she was nearly as reckless as he was. Still, her resolve never seemed to weaken.

You know now, she takes it off and clenches it in her hand when she needs a reminder. When she begins to doubt or fear or lose her stubborn determination to walk on… she grips it tightly in her hands for as long as it takes. And when it's been long enough, she lets it go again, tucks it back beneath her shirt, and treks on in search of the remainder of her unspoken promise, one fragment at a time.

Though he didn't know where this strength came from, he knew where to find it in her. It hid in the stiffness of her shoulders, the tautness of her posture -- she stood taller and straighter than he did, something she would sporadically pester him about -- the lithe, tight concentration with which she strung an arrow; drew it back across the length of the bowstring.

You're falling behind slightly now, lost in thought. She notices before anyone else does, and turns back, beckoning to you with her eyes. You don't notice at first, still trying to puzzle her out, and her questioning glance is followed up with an inviting hand.

Yours is wrapped around hers before you even realize you had reached out for it. You give her small fingers a light squeeze, and she pulls gently on you with her own mysterious, affectionate strength until you fall into the same step.

It hadn't taken long at all for him to warm to her presence; in fact his feelings toward Kagome had changed from an almost violent distrust to overprotective affection in a rather alarming turnaround time.

Maybe the differences between her and the woman of his past -- the differences that quite possibly attracted him to her more than anything -- were amplified when he saw them through older, wiser eyes. Though he technically hadn't aged those fifty years he had been pinned to the Goshinboku, since he had taken up Kagome's company, he somehow felt older now.

"There's a saying about butterflies," she says suddenly, and Shippou's ears perk up with renewed interest. "If you hold one too tightly in your hand, it dies. But if you let it go, it flies away."

There is a sudden disruption in the form of an enraged shriek from Sango, another impressive blow to a cheek, and a guilty chuckle from Miroku. You take a moment to roll your eyes, before sliding your gaze back in her direction.

All too used to this routine when it comes to the pair walking ahead, Shippou simply ignores it. "What does that mean?" he quips, confused.

"Well," she says, wondering where to begin. You're wondering where she's going with this, too. "I think it's supposed to be about… love." Her cheeks are coloring slightly, but she still doesn't turn to look at you. "If you hold on to someone too tightly, it's like smothering them. But if you don't stay with them, they'll leave you."

She doesn't have to look over at you for you to catch her meaning. If there wasn't a more serious undertone to all this, you'd probably make an indignant remark drawing attention to your own attentiveness -- this is just the sort of thing she thinks always goes right over your head. Just because she's usually right doesn't mean she always is.

Even if he no longer felt what he once did for her, he did still hold admiration and respect for Kikyou. In a way, she had to have been colder -- if she caved in any way, the jewel was dangerously vulnerable. She couldn't have afforded to expose any plethora of emotions the way Kagome seemed to do so often and unconsciously.

Having satisfied Shippou's inquisitiveness, she finally turns and catches your eye, and as much to your own surprise as hers, you don't blush or look away. Maybe you're finally growing up. Or maybe you're just too distracted by the culmination of all your thoughts -- you're seeing exactly that now, in her eyes.

Kagome had chances Kikyou hadn't had. In a way, Kagome was Kikyou's second chance, and in a way she wasn't. In a way, she was a piece of Kikyou, but in others she was her own woman.

Perhaps it was thanks to Kikyou's melting of the ice that surrounded his heart that permitted him to fall into a much deeper sea of feeling for Kagome in her place. That is, not "in her place," but rather… it was a chance to start again. They all deserved that.

What Kikyou deserves, he thought, is to move on, too.

If Kikyou's second chance lived in Kagome, even if it was so slight that it hardly counted; that neither realized or acknowledged it… Maybe she was his second chance, too.

You see it now.

She is saying, "You don't have to forget. You don't have to let go for good. But don't hold on so tightly to the past."

You realize, finally, you're not the only one who can't move on if you don't learn to let go.

No, there was no maybe about it. He could see it now.

In studying all the pieces of her, he could finally understand the whole.

She is saying, "I won't hold on to you so tightly anymore, either. But I promised you I won't let go."

You're afraid to blink. This is too important a moment to break.

The journey is far from over.

Suddenly, her grip on your hand loosens, and you feel the chain slip away as she lets it go.

You'll make it through together.

She is saying, "You can fly off, and so can I, but I will always come back to you."

There is nothing new about this knowledge, really, but somehow, it makes all the difference.

You intertwine your fingers with hers again, and she is saying, "I won't let go."

Author's Notes:

I know, I know, could I have made that any more confusing?

I like to experiment with point-of-view and perspective and all that, not to mention tenses. To simplify... It's meant to work as a whole, and in parts -- in other words, you should be able to read the whole thing (without getting too lost) -- or read only the italicized, or only the normal sections, without trouble or a break of the flow.

I know, that is a very lofty goal (and entirely too experimental), and I'm sure I've failed at it spectacularly. But, re-reading it now, I can honestly say I'm rather proud of the result. This is unusual, since I usually abhor my own fiction. And, as I've never written anything for InuYasha before, that makes it even more surprising. All I can hope for now is that Jessica will like it, too. crosses fingers nervously

I also realize it jumps around a bit. I attribute this to trying to capture natural thought process, especially for someone with a short attention span, like InuYasha. This could just be my excuse for what came out at 3:00am, but I like to think it works, regardless.

A couple other nuances -- in the italicized bits, I never address InuYasha nor Kagome by name. In contrast, in the normal-text areas, I do. In italics, it's omnicient, progressive present tense. In normal text, it's omnicient past perfect tense. That probably makes no sense to anyone else who isn't a grammar nazi like me, but it's more for my own notes than anything else.

Also, I did indeed draw fanart for this fic! For links to the art piece itself, Himitsu Santa, my LJ, my art gallery, and anything and everything else, just check out my profile. :)

I'd love to hear what you thought of it. (Even though it sucks. Woe. I tried!)