life in moderation
chapter 13: wearing at the edges
AN: No, this fic has not been discontinued.
It's thunder storming outside, but I really wanna get this posted! I'm sorry it took so long! Over two months, I know. Sigh. Here ya go. Thanks to Numisma for beta-ing and keeping me from falling in plot holes.
Oh, and we passed 200 reviews! I love you guys!
disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
It would be very convenient if the entire world would just be sensible and not have things start at obscene hours in the morning. Then everyone could sleep in, and no one would pissed off because they aren't getting enough sleep or because they're late or whatever.
However, the world isn't sensible like that, and the jackasses that make the stupid rules society follows are obviously morning people. Thus, everyone has to get up way too early with them and suffer.
It's completely stupid, if you ask me.
I rock back on the legs of my chair, one arm braced against the rounded edge of the counter, the other holding my mug of coffee. My fingernails rap on the counter to the beat of the song playing on the radio, the lyrics inaudible under the buzz of bad reception. I take a little sip of the deep chestnut drink, feeling the steam graze my cheeks as it floats upwards and away, and hope the caffeine will quickly take effect. Really, who could live without coffee? After I swallow, I can feel the hot liquid sloshing around inside my cold body. Autumn sucks in that way; sometimes the days might be freakishly warm, but at night and in the mornings it gets freezing cold. Still, I can't help but like November for a few reasons, and one stands out at me a bit more than the others do.
"Hey!" I call over to Sesshou-maru, who sits calmly at the other side of the table, the bottom half of his face obscured by yesterday's edition of one of the city newspapers. "Guess what day it is in a week!"
His dark honey colored eyes glance up from the paper in a somewhat interested fashion, one eyebrow cocked. "This is a trick question, isn't it?"
"Maybe."
The newspaper makes that crinkling sound newspaper always makes as he turns the page, eyes scanning the headlines. "I don't know. Tell me."
"November thirtieth. It's my birthday," I say, too tired to play a guessing game with him (as fun as that would be). Well, apparently that's my birthday. That's what I was always told it was…
"Really." Sesshou-maru's eyes flicker to mine one more, though his bangs, hanging in damp strings, are getting in the way of his sight. He reaches a nimble hand up to push them away.
"Yes, really. And I'm not just saying that to make you get me something."
"Twenty-two, right?" he asks. Well, at least the man knows my age.
"Yep." A thought strikes me and I let the front two legs of my chair come back down with a thud so I can lean across the table. "Hey, when's your birthday? I don't think you ever told me."
"It's not important."
"Oh, come on." I say, resting my chin on the heel of my hand and giving a mock pout. I can feel crumbs scattered over the table digging into my elbow.
"January," he states.
"When in January?"
He gives me a look of annoyance. I smile innocently in return.
"January sixteenth. I'll be twenty-four," he says finally, in a 'this conversation ends here' kind of tone. I decide to play along and shut up. It was just a little game; no need to piss him off. I can be a pain in the ass, but it's vital to know your limits.
Twenty-four… To be honest, he seems a bit older than that to me. Just the way he carries himself, the way he talks, everything. He's a lot smarter and more mature than the majority of 24 year olds I've met, that's for sure. Like I've said, I can't really see him going to a party; mosh-pitting; head banging… Rebellious teen Sesshou-maru. Now there's an interesting image. You know, he wouldn't look too bad with an eyebrow ring…
As this train of thought rambles onward, I begin to giggle in the direction of my breakfast of toast and an apple. Sesshou-maru must've noticed, because he's giving me this weird look.
"What are you laughing at?"
A pause.
"I'm imagining you with a mohawk," I answer.
A moment passes, and a smile creeps over his lips. What almost sounds like laughter reverberates from his throat as he closes his eyes, looking rather amused.
Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe I have just managed to make the great Sesshou-maru laugh.
It's not like it hasn't happened before. Sometimes he'll laugh at something I've said or done, but those times are few and far between. I feel kinda proud of myself for it, too, as stupid as that sounds. Sometimes he seems almost robotic, but when he laughs, or does something else weird and human, it's… I'm not sure. But I look forward to those moments. It's cute how particular he is about some odd little things, too.
The newspaper crackles as he folds it, laying it down on the table beside a pile of mail we've yet to go through; bills and fliers for the most part.
"I won't be able to walk you back from class today," he says to me. "I've got another meeting with the publishing company that will probably last an excruciatingly long time."
"It's fine. I'm a big girl."
"I know."
The dishes drop into the sink with a clatter, metal scraping against plastic. From the window in the living room, beams of hazy sunlight come in to strike the metal faucet, the shine burning color onto my vision. I blink in an attempt to rid my mind of the sudden jolt of pain, but it's still there, just as vivid against the unseeing black.
o
"It's fine. I'm a big girl."
She says it in almost a teasing tone, a mocking smile playing across her undressed lips. But underneath the scarlet glaze of her eyes is a displaced depth and it frightens me. Kagura acts so well, I think she's convinced herself that it's true.
She's painted everything over in a lovely haze.
It's not that she's pretending everything is perfect. No, it's far from. Denying the flaws that mar out daily routine is a large stretch; one would have to be lacking in sanity to actually believe it.
She's simply pretending she's unaffected by it all, that she's strong enough to not even by fazed by those… events…
Her nightmares are getting worse, I think.
I glance over at her without thinking, only to find her staring blankly in the direction of the sink.
"Kagura?"
She jerks forward, looking bemusedly up at me.
"What? Oh." She laughs. "Must've drifted off there. I need to go get ready, don't I?"
I nod, but she's already scampered off to our bedroom to change, footsteps quick and light over the floor.
o
Life likes to screw you over.
I pick up another stray stone lying on the steps and chuck it at the cans piled in the alleyway below me. It hits one on the side with a sharp clang, but it doesn't fall over. It's hard to throw rocks at things properly when you're sitting on a fire escape.
Life screws some people more than others though. I guess you could call it rape.
I pick up another stone and squint at my target.
It screwed Mom over big time. I don't remember much of her, since I was only eight when she died. She loved Father, and I know he loved her, but that wasn't enough. After he died, the company went bankrupt. Everyone knew she was sick, even then, but no one tried to help. We didn't have enough money for medicine, and we had no way to get it. It was useless and pointless to even try.
So… the inevitable happened.
After she passed away, they sent me to group home after group home, each one not being able to 'handle' me. Doesn't matter. I hated each and every one of them. People like them don't get along with people like me, and that's the way things work.
I only have one living relative that I know of, and that's Sesshou-maru. I don't know what happened to him; I'm absolutely nothing like him, and I don't really care. In fact, I hope the bastard's dead!
The stone flies too high, going a few inches over the can to hit the garbage bag behind it. My stomach growls a little, drowned out by the louder sounds of traffic coming from the street. I don't want to beg for money, and stealing is often more trouble than it's worth, so I'll just starve for a bit. It's not a big deal, really. Kagome'll bring me food sometimes, and I have other friends. Survival in this city isn't that difficult as long as you make connections and don't get stupid. Spending all your cash on drugs, that's stupid.
That's stupid, all right…
A red hot flash of anger streaks through my mind, and I whip the rock across the alleyway. It ricochets off the brick wall of the building across from me and onto the ground. I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the black bars of the fire escape, the metal cold and sticky against the nape of my neck. The weather's getting worse. Last winter wasn't too bad, because I slept in the temple a lot of the time…
I close my eyes, and slowly let the breath escape from my lungs. It's no use trying not to think about it; it only gets worse that way. There's nothing I can do about it now.
Kikyou.
I met her a year and a half ago in the park. She was sitting under the tree where I was trying to sleep, and offered me part of her meal. In response, I called her ugly and told her I didn't want her goddamned pity. She kept coming back from time to time, though, and we started talking after a while.
The girl was insane. Her parents had died in a car crash, leaving her sister in an orphanage. She ran away from there, and ended up staying in a temple. In exchange for her meals and a place to sleep, she did some chores there, while also working a few days a week at an independent clinic across town. She was nice, if a little serious, and too kind for her own good. The temple took in quite a few stray kids, so she invited me to stay there in the winter with her.
That girl…
Do you know what's really stupid?
I think I fell in love with her.
I think I still am in love with her.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip, my nerves sending screams of torment into my brain for me to experience. The memories always come back at the worst moments, bombarding me with emotions I can't handle.
Yeah, I know it's seems ignorant for a fourteen year old to say he loves a girl, but…
It doesn't matter anymore. We got in a fight because she was getting into some bad shit and some bad people to go along with it. That idiot wench. The next day, the doctor where she works found her in the bathroom and drove her to the hospital. She overdosed on something. I think it was heroin. She's in rehab now, in some teen-help place in the next city. I haven't been to visit her… as much as I sometimes want to.
If that wasn't bad enough, Kagome had to come along and make a nuisance of herself… God, the first time I saw her, I thought she was Kikyou. I mean, they do look alike, and she is kind and all, but… No, Kagome's tons different from Kikyou. She's some sheltered little priss who just doesn't get it.
"Hey. What're you thinking about?"
My head snaps up, hitting the railing of the fire escape. I reach my hand up to rub the spot, glaring at my visitor, who smiles like he thinks it's funny.
"What do you want, Miroku?" I ask, letting him know he's not wanted. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
He shrugs with a little half-smile, leaning against the wall opposite me. "I'm on lunch break, but thank you for your concern."
I drop my hand from my head and run it over the ground until I find another decent sized stone. Miroku raises an eyebrow, as if he suspects I'll hit him with it. The guy really pisses me off sometimes…
I met him on the streets a while ago. Well, it was more me laughing at him as he got slapped time after time by random girls he tried to hit on, but whatever. He's not a street kid; he and his mom live in an apartment near the high school. Kagome seems to know him somehow, which isn't such a good thing. I doubt he really would, but part of me is still paranoid he'll molest her or something… such a pervert, that one.
"You were thinking about Kagome, weren't you?" he asks.
I turn to glare. "Why the hell would you think that, you perv?"
He sighs in an overdramatic manner. "Inuyasha, my friend, I was just making a casual assumption…" His smile turns devilish. "Besides, she's your girlfriend. Why wouldn't you be thinking about her?"
"She's not my girlfriend!"
"So you're telling me you just happen to hang around with a pretty, well-off girl, and nothing's going on between you two?" he asks incredulously.
"Shut up about her!" I snap. "She's three years younger than you; you shouldn't be thinking she's pretty and shit! Besides, she's definitely not!"
"Oh, come on. She's two years younger than you, and yet you-" He stops to duck the rock I pitched at his head. "Hey! That wasn't nice!"
"Get outta here, Miroku, before I'm forced to injure you!" I say, slouching back against the fire escape. After a few moments, I hear footsteps exiting the alleyway. I let out my breath, severely annoyed. He knows he gets to me when he says stuff like that, and I know he has fun doing it.
That bastard…
I don't like Kagome.
I don't want to get close to Kagome.
I can't get close to Kagome.
I can't let her get hurt…
o
Mieko insists on playing the radio quietly behind the desk in the library. She claims it helps her work, and that it makes us seem friendlier. Though I agree that putting on a CD can help me concentrate, I wish she wouldn't insist on having the radio set on the local pop station. The majority of what's played is overproduced crap. Currently, some teen sensation is wailing his heart out to his girlfriend/best friend/lover about how all he wants is to loooove her. My God. It's enough to drive one insane!
Glancing around first to make sure Mieko isn't near, I dart my hand over to turn off the radio. Any more of that and I would've gotten a headache. Mission completed, I turn back to bar-coding some new books, sans the cheesy love ballads.
I don't really agree with most of what I hear in those songs… it's not really a beautiful, glorious thing that conquers all effortlessly. I know sometimes I want to strangle Sesshou-maru, and he can get pretty fed up with me. All the same, I can't help but forgive him, and kiss him, and fall asleep beside him without plans to run the next morning. I came into the relationship cautious, not taking it too seriously. It was a reluctant friendship that somehow… turned out to be a lot more. I don't know if I could imagine my life without him now. I don't think I'd be as strong as I am without him helping me. As cliché as it all sounds, it's true. At least I think it's true.
Books bar-coded, I head over to the Young Adult section to shelve them. A gothic looking boy sits on the couch, flipping through a music magazine with a heavy metal band on the front. I'm a little disappointed that only he's here, as I was hoping I'd see Kanna. She hasn't been in for a while, according to Mieko who saw her last week and tried to strike up conversation (failing miserably). I find myself looking for her, suspecting every light-haired individual I see on the street. It's never her, though. Maybe it never was her in the first place. Still…
I make my way back to the desk, finding two people by the CD rack. One is crouched over it, picking idly through the selection with his/her (I can't tell from here) fingers, while the other leans against the desk, looking bored.
"Would you hurry up?" he asks, fingering the long braid his dark hair is pulled back into.
The first looks up from the rack, displeased. "Why are you in such a rush? It's only just after four."
"Well, unlike you I have classes and-"
"Alright, alright." The one by the CD's (whom I now can see is a very femme looking boy) pouts and picks up his small stack of books, mostly novels. Pressing them to his chest so he can carry them all over, he saunters to the desk where I am and carefully sets them down in front of me, sending me a bit of a glare. He begins shuffling through the pockets of his jeans, a worried look quickly coming over his face.
The other chuckles lightly, pulling out his wallet. The leather is faded and stained, wearing at the edges. "You gave your card to me so you wouldn't lose it, remember, Jakotsu?"
This 'Jakotsu' looks over at him, his frazzled expression quickly changing to a relieved one as the guy with the braid pulls a library card from the wallet and holds it between his fingers. I can't help but think he looks a little familiar as he leans over to give the shorter man the card, and we meet eyes just briefly. His eyes sweep quickly over me before glancing away.
"Sorry," the one at the desk says coldly, sliding the card across the desk. His fingers are dainty and the nails in quite a bit better shape than mine. There's a scar running across his first two knuckles, just a thin and jagged ivory line.
"No problem," I say sarcastically, returning his coldness, as I take the card from him and putting it through the machine. He glances out the window, absentmindedly pulling at the bottom of his pink T-shirt, a picture of The Clash on the front.
I quickly scan the books, my hands used to the movements and able to go through them without much difficulty or hesitance. I tap my fingers against the edge of the desk as the slip with due dates prints. It almost seems too quiet without the radio on. Maybe I'll have to convince Mieko to tune it to a half-decent station.
"Here you go," I say, folding the slip and tucking it inside the book on the top of the pile. "Due back in three weeks."
"Thanks," he says, again in an unfriendly manner, scooping them up to put into the plastic bag hanging from his elbow. His eyes flicker curiously up at me a few times, and when I catch him a snake-like grin spreads across his face.
"Sorry." He glances down at my nametag and squints. "Kaju… Kagura. You just look kinda familiar and I was trying to see if I could remember where I'd… Oh, I remember. Bankotsu-aniki!" He turns to his friend. "Doesn't she take the same class as you Thursday afternoons?"
The one called Bankotsu glances over lazily. "Oh? Yeah, now that you say that, I'm pretty sure that's where I'd seen her before."
"I knew it!" Jakotsu exclaims giddily. Jeez, did this guy have a lot of coffee this morning, or is he this hyperactive by nature?
Bankotsu sighs, sounding agitated. "Come on, we need to get going."
"Fine," huffs Jakotsu, turning back to me.
"Well, it was nice to meet you," he says detachedly (it's obvious he doesn't mean it), then turns around to face the empty space where Bankotsu used to be.
"Bankotsu-aniki, wait!" he calls, running towards Bankotsu, who had already begun walking away. A few steps away, Jakotsu jumps, landing on Bankotsu's back. The force is almost enough to knock the shorter one off his feet, causing Bankotsu to stumble a few steps forwards, swinging his arms around to hold Jakotsu stable.
"You're acting like a schoolgirl," he mutters, but as he glances back, I can see a smile on his face, clearing stating he enjoys the attention.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you…" Jakotsu says in a playful tone as the doors swing shut behind them, and I'm left again with this empty sound of silence.
I get off work at five and head straight home. It's a little lonely without Sesshou-maru to walk with me. Lately we've been getting quite a bit… closer in a physical fashion. Maybe it's my constant griping about the goddamned weather (I hate the cold, and am constantly dragging him out to get hot chocolate) or it could be… I dunno. It has been difficult at times, due to those things that happened. Sometimes, in my mind, his hands will turn into Hitomi's, and in my ear, I can hear the bastard's voice whispering… I can't help it; I just freak out when that happens! Sesshou-maru's been pretty good about it, though. Sometimes I think I don't deserve him at all.
As if to spite me, the apartment is cold when I get home. It's not like it's freezing, as it's not yet December, but the change is very noticeable. I put on a jacket of Sesshou-maru's that's been left hanging over the couch and head into the kitchen. After searching through our cupboards, I have concluded that we are in dire need of a trip to the grocery store. That and the cupboards hate me, as quite a few of them make a short screaming sound as you open them, which isn't exactly something you want to hear alone in a cold, quiet apartment. Then you begin seeing things out of the corner of your eye… watching you.
If I'm not careful, I might just end up driving myself insane…
o
My entire body has gone stiff from sitting all day, which isn't made any better by the less than warm weather we've been getting lately. It's been rather cold this year, much to Kagura's annoyance more than mine. If it keeps up like this, she'll be nagging me to go out for hot chocolate almost every night.
I find her on the couch in the living room, a blanket thrown over her legs and my jacket on her shoulder. In her hands is a bowl of violently yellow noodles. They almost look toxic.
She raises her head somnolently.
"Oh, hey. There's some KD in the microwave for you."
"Some what?"
"Kraft Dinner." She motions to her bowl. "It's healthy."
I bet.
When I return from the kitchen, her head is lolled back against the couch, naked eyelids closed halfway.
"You aren't getting enough sleep," I comment, sitting down beside her. The heat from the bowl feels like it's gnawing away at my flesh, so I set it on the newspaper I carried it over with.
"I'm fine," she insists. "I'm a little sleepy, so what?"
She crosses her arms around her bowl, obviously annoyed. "How was the meeting thingy?"
"Fine." I shrug, playing along. "I've still got a lot of editing to go through."
"Will the frog man be coming back?"
I smirk. "It's likely."
She snorts and goes back to her noodles. I pick at them but eat little. I have a hard time swallowing something of such an unnatural color.
The newspaper catches my eye. Recollection of what I read this morning begins thrashing in my head, an itch begging to be scratched. I push it to the far corners of my mind and ignore it. Or at least I try.
"Kagura." I set my bowl down on the table.
She looks up, a little puzzled.
"What was your father's name again?"
Her eyes narrow and she rushes to swallow her mouthful of macaroni. "What the hell? Why are you asking that?"
She watches me warily as I reach for the newspaper. Its crinkling is loud in the stagnant quiet, almost unnerving. Nonetheless, I flip through, mentally counting pages until I find it. I run my eyes over it quickly, listening to Kagura's anxious breath.
"It was Naraku, right?"
She starts at this, her nails digging into the worn fabric of the sofa.
"I mentioned him once, maybe twice," she says in a low, threatening voice. "Why are you bringing this up? What-"
Being formal with her will get me nowhere now that she's this on edge, so I shove the newspaper at her, gesturing to the article.
"Read."
o
Family Murdered, Police Puzzled
On the morning of November 20th, police officer Taijiya Hiruka and his wife Rei failed to report for duty. Assuming it was nothing but car trouble or a family crisis, their fellow officers didn't take action until the next morning, when various attempts to contact the Taijiyas didn't work. A single officer, who has asked not to have his name in print, was sent over to investigate. That morning was to become one he would never forget.
'When I got to the house,' the officer explained, 'it was quiet; they lived in a peaceful neighborhood. After knocking on the door for five minutes or so, I went to the kitchen window…'
Here the officer begins to look sick.
'They were just lying there… blood all over everything…'
The officer's description was too grotesque to put in our newspaper. All we can say is that the bodies were mangled, but still identifiable.
Hiruka and Rei were confirmed dead when the ambulance arrived. However, their son Kohaku (nine years old) was found alive, but just barely. He's been through quite a few operations to remove bullets and repair damaged tissue, but the doctors expect him to survive. Kugutsu Naraku, a wealthy businessman who has recently moved to the city, has offered to adopt the boy, and has already taken time out of his hectic schedule to visit poor Kohaku. It's a refreshing change to see someone on the top of the ladder acting so kindhearted and benevolent.
Unfortunately, the Taijiyas' daughter Sango (fourteen years) is nowhere to be found. Hopefully, she was somewhere else when her family was so brutally slaughtered.
It's a very sad day in this city when such things happen in a family's own home. We urge anyone who has information to contact the police info hotline at 1-867-555-3764. Remember to lock your doors and have your children in before dark. We wouldn't want such a tragedy to repeat itself.
I reread the paragraph mentioning my father again about three times. Kindhearted? Benevolent? That's the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard!
But… he's here? In this city?
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Fuck!
First Hitomi, now him? Why is this happening?
"I was going to ask you this morning but decided to wait," Sesshou-maru tells me quietly, reaching over to put his hand on my knee.
I shy away from the touch. A frown slithers across his face, but he doesn't push me.
"He's here…" I mumble, as if saying the idea aloud will help me comprehend. I still can't quite believe it. So Kanna probably was the one Mieko saw after all.
My hands clutch the newspaper, causing large wrinkles to spread across its surface. I narrow my eyes at his name. Unlike before, with that goddamned phone call and Hitomi, I harshly refuse the urge to cry.
My father has no ties to me whatsoever. We are not the same blood. He doesn't own me like he used to. I'm not that stupid little girl he could toss around and play with like some vapid rag doll.
"Kagura."
I wince at the firmness of his voice.
"I'm going to bed," I mutter, mashing the newspaper into a large ball, depositing it on the floor as I stand to leave. I'm halted in mid-step as Sesshou-maru catches my arm, firmly holding me in place.
"Looks like another one of the secrets about your past has resurfaced," he comments.
I sneer. "There's a reason I never talked about it, you know."
"What are you going to do?"
I turn my head, eyes focused in an accusative glare. "If you think I'll go to him like I did Hitomi, then you're just plain stupid."
The hold he has on me breaks as I violently pull away, taking a few steps away. I can't handle this right now… I need sleep, that's what I need. Sleep and some pills.
"Well, what are you going to do, then?" He waits a while, as if he expects me to answer. I remain uncharacteristically silent. "Nothing?"
"I'm going to bed," I repeat, enunciating it clearly, so he knows I'm not going to continue fighting him. Not right now. Maybe later. Not now. Things inside my head are laughing and screaming and weeping all at once. I can barely…
Oh, Sesshou-maru's talking. I focus in on him, trying to ignore my chaotic brain on overload.
"…same mistake as last time. I won't let you be reckless and..."
I put a hand to my temple, guilt seeping through the many holes in my chest, coating my skin like heavy oil.
"Shut up!" I shout to him, taking hasty steps away.
Away away away.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. My back slaps against the wall and his jacket begins to slip down one shoulder, but I can't be bothered.
It's odd, and almost entrancing… I feel like I'm half here… half somewhere else. My head feels light but my body is heavy and sweating.
Sesshou-maru glares down at me, his hands pressing my shoulders to the wall. His fingers are cold… they feel like the legs of a large spider…
Things come into a sudden sharp focus.
"Why do you insist on hiding these things from me?" he growls.
I've been vehemently returned to this pounding, aching world, his words like little bombs exploding inside of my ears. My muscles all stiffen and I feel small and trapped by his large body, which could easily crush and-
My mind laughs, and dares him to hurt me. It's been a while since anyone has hit me…
Hell, what am I thinking?
"Let go of me," I hiss, trying to keep my voice from faltering.
His eyes dart over me, losing the primal edge they had just a few moments ago, and his hands lift from my shoulders to retract to his sides. His muscles slacken as he takes a small step backward, giving me some space to breathe.
He wouldn't actually have-
"I didn't mean to…" he starts, but I'm really not in the mood to converse. Especially after that.
I duck around him, ignoring his presence completely and heading to the fridge. After grabbing three bottles of beer - you know what? Let's make it four - I head to the bedroom. It's only eight, but I don't really care right now.
"I'm going to bed," I say icily.
He stares at the wall, shifting only slightly. I'm surprised he doesn't chastise me on the bottles in my arms, condensation dampening my shirt.
"Good night."
I close the door behind me and turn off the light, letting my mind become numb and slippery with alcohol, any worry sliding away and out of sight.
end chapter 13