life in moderation
chapter 14: knotted thread
The un beta-d version.
AN: Sorry, but we can't do review responses anymore. If you have a question, email me. Righto, this is the unbeta-d version. I sent it to Numisma a while ago, but either the email got screwed up or she's on vaca or busy or something, so I decided to post this now. (shrug) I apologize for any grammatical errors and/or crappiness. I love each and every one of you who reads (and reviews).
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
"Suikotsu-san?"
I look up from my papers, blinking away my drowsiness. The city is dark outside my small office, headlights from the cars that drive by flashing in through the windows almost constantly. I direct my eyes to the doorway, finding Tsubaki standing there with the phone in her hands and a displeased expression on her scarlet-painted lips.
"Phone," she says simply, handing it to me.
"Thank you, Tsubaki-chan. Shouldn't you be asleep in by the temple by now, though?"
She scoffs. "It's not that late. I was about to go, but Ruri-san and Hari-san said they were going out for a bit, and would get me a coffee, so I'm waiting for them. They should be back soon."
"Heh… they might be a while," I say to her, putting the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Um, hello. This is the Tokyo West hospital calling," comes the hoarse female voice, "Is this Eisei Suikotsu? The man who brought in the girl the other day?"
"Yes, yes it is." I lean forwards a bit, slightly worried. "Why? Did she…"
"No, no, she's alive," the voice laughs. "The doctor's were a bit surprised, actually. They didn't think she would pull through, but that girl's got an amazing will. She's in recovery now."
"I see…" I murmur, relieved. Coming back from the grocery store the other day, I had decided to take a little detour, and stumbled across a half-conscious girl, bleeding from quite a few different places. Knowing the situation was way out of my hands, I called an ambulance and stayed with her until it arrived, doing what I could to keep her awake, then riding with them to the hospital. It was disheartening, really… she looked so young…
"In any case, the doctors are wary about asking her questions too soon. You know, trauma and all," the woman continues. "They were wondering if you could come in and try and get something out of her. A name, maybe something about her family."
"But I don't-"
"You don't know her, yes, but you were the one that found her and called the ambulance, so she would probably be more comfortable talking to you than someone she hasn't seen before. Besides, you're a doctor yourself," the woman tells me firmly. "You won't be coming in today, of course, but sometime next week. We'll give you another call as to when, mm-kay?"
"Alright… I guess."
"Thank you. Have a nice night."
I hear a short click and I'm greeted with empty dial tone. Tsubaki takes the phone and cocks one of her finely plucked eyebrows slightly, but says nothing. With a sigh, I go back to the paper sitting on my desk, on top of the work I finished this afternoon so I would have no excuse not to get started on it after the clinic closed for the night. I tap my pen against my desk, staring at the piece of lined paper. I prefer writing letters by hand, even though they always end up full of scribbled out words and my writing is a little hard to read.
Dear Kikyou…
The other me stirs in displeasure at this. He never liked Kikyou… well, he never really liked anyone, so…. Ignoring the protests I can hear him trying to raise, I lower my pen to the paper once more, but as usual, my mind blanks completely and I can think of nothing to write. Frustrated, I glance over at the photograph of us.
Just like every other time, she continues smiling.
o
I fucked up.
I did. I fucked up again.
Stupid me.
It's horrible, really. You never feel the guilt or fully realize the consequence of what you're doing until the morning after you've done it. But by then it's too late, and you just have to live with that heavy, curdling sickness that settles insides your stomach and decides to mock you. For the rest if the day it will continue banging hard on the back of my head, singing loudly, 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.'
Having a slight hangover does nothing to better the situation.
The empty beer bottles are lying on the floor beside this bed that holds only me. Sesshou-maru didn't come in any time last night. I didn't expect him too. I guess he slept on the couch…
The apartment is quiet. Either he's still sleeping, or he's gone. I look at the clock, finding it to be a bit after 10:00… no, he's definitely gone by now. I guess that's a good thing, though. Confronting him in this condition would only make things that much worse. I hate feeling guilty; it puts me in a horrible mood. The word describes it perfectly; guilty, sliding slick off my tongue, though I can still feel some of it caught in my throat, making me gag. You want to throw it up and get it all out, but you can't, and instead try to ignore it, or avoid it or even shove it on someone else. It will come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later, and then you're forced to accept it, apologize and attempt to move on, though you know it'll stay in the back of your mind and pop up at inopportune times just to spite you.
I realize all that, and yet I can't seem to keep myself out of trouble. Maybe I have some kind of disorder, and purposely get myself into messes without realizing it. On the other hand, maybe I'm just over thinking this whole damn thing.
It doesn't matter. One of us will have to apologize or whatever sometime. I seriously doubt it's going to be Sesshou-maru so I might as well prepare my little speech now, even though he was the one who got all angry about it. It frightened me, how angry he looked. Sure, it seemed like I was hiding things from him, but those things… those things I just don't tell people. Why can't he get that? It's his fault for getting so worked up over just about nothing, anyways.
It's not just the fight that's bugging me, though. It's my 'father' being in this city… that scares me quite a bit. But why should it? He is nothing to me. I should've shot him when I had the chance… should've killed him in my sleep and ran, but I was just a kid then. Killing someone… God, it scares me even now. You would think it would be easy; just pull the trigger and there they go, but it's not. Not for us sane people. For him it's different. And he might be near to me… Ugh, I don't want to think about what would happen if we met.
With a groan, I pull my aching body out of bed, taking a few minutes to stretch before picking up the empty glass bottles and heading for the kitchen. It's Friday… No, Thursday. Thursday, right, I have to go to an afternoon class right after work, which starts at…
Shit. I'm late!
I leave the bottles on the counter, grabbing a box of crackers from the cupboard and run back to the bedroom. That will have to do for breakfast. I pull on some clean looking clothes and shove my things into my bag. However, the acts feel mindless, as I'm much more worried about our inevitable confrontation. Sesshou-maru and I can't avoid each other completely until one of us feels like making an effort to patch things up, which is a disadvantage of living together. Jeez, what will I say when I see him? I could say nothing… I could pretend nothing happened, and… oh, I'll think about it later when I'm actually awake.
As I whip around the corner that leads from the kitchen to the miniscule front hall, I stub my toe on the wall, yelping quietly as I struggle to put my shoes on as fast as possible.
Stupid, stupid me.
o
Her eyes won't leave me alone.
All morning, whatever I think of has led straight back to Kagura and last night, her accusing glare piercing into me, so fierce and hurt, and red.
I push my fingers into the dough, taking out my frustrations on it. Working in a bakery definitely has its benefits. I don't have to converse with people when I am really not in the mood, and kneading dough is, as I have found, an excellent way to leave stress. It also keeps me busy. Still, though, she plagues my mind…
Why does she want to hide it all from me? Was it that bad?
That scar on her back… The rough skin that dips down to form a shallow crater, spindly canals reaching outwards from the centre as if legs of a spider. She has let me touch it a few times, my fingers tracing the ridges gingerly, but always her eyes will dim and became glazed and her usually boisterous demeanor will diminish. I'm near positive this has something to do with it…
I want to know. I want her to stop trying to cover it up, because I can tell it's tearing her apart. She is spreading herself too thin. I fear one day she may fall to pieces completely, and I will be unable to do a thing. Still, maybe it's not safe to force her to face those memories. I did push her a little too far last night, I will admit that… Kagura can just be so damn stubborn, and at the same time it's endearing in an odd way, it gets under my skin and irritates me to no end sometimes.
In a way, I can understand where she's coming from. There are plenty of things that have happened to me that I would rather not disclose, that I would rather forget, but letting things that are obviously still affecting you just sit inside your head and swell over time will only do you harm. Things do not go away simply because you wish them to. Her ex-fiancé is proof enough of that.
The things that have happened to her do seem to be much worse than anything I have ever come close to experiencing, but that gives her no excuse to…
And I had no excuse to get almost violent with her.
This is getting me nowhere fast.
If only I could somehow tell her all this… turn all my scattered thoughts into words and sentences that are somewhat logical. I've never been one for talking, though. Writing is different. I can go word by word, I can erase what I don't like, and no one ever has to see (save the editors, mind you) until I'm completely finished and there are no mistakes. Talking is different, and much more difficult. There's no turning back time to take away the words you didn't mean to say or to rephrase your jumbled, half-spoken sentences. The moment passes and you can't change it.
I sigh, knocking a thin strand of hair that's fallen from the bandana I wear to keep hair out of my face out of my line of vision.
Kagura is… a difficult person to understand. I guess I should consider myself lucky to be let in as far as I have. I don't want to watch her struggle and do nothing, but I don't want to destroy her in the process of trying to help…
As irksome as it is, I really don't know.
o
Thursday's class is without a doubt my favorite. Media Studies. I first signed up for it because I thought it would be an easy credit. It's actually more a psychology course than anything, and more fun than class should be. For the most part, we have discussions about the effects advertisements and celebrities and the like have on us, to extreme levels.
In any case, I was pissed when I came here from work (Mrs. H. was annoyed at me, understandably, and the dumb-ass computer system decided to crash on us. Again.), but now I think I'm in a pretty good mood. I mean, the guilty pangs seem to be lessening, and I don't have any urges to kill anything or bash my head against a wall, so that's got to be a good sign, right?
"Hey, Kagura."
I find that guy from the library the other day…Bankotsu, that's his name, standing beside me, looking somewhat exhausted.
"Hey yourself," I say. We begin out into the hall, herded along by the thick stream of students coming out of various classrooms, the roar of chatter and footsteps suddenly loud in my ear.
"I wanted to apologize for Jakotsu being… cold to you yesterday," he starts. "It's nothing persona, he just doesn't like chicks."
I raise an eyebrow. "Doesn't like chicks?"
"Jakotsu's kinda weird that way…" he answers, shrugging.
"I noticed."
He grins (it almost looks like a smirk) at this, though it quickly disappears into a yawn that he hides behind his hand.
"You seem tired," I comment redundantly for lack of anything else to say.
The short man nods, readjusting his grip on the backpack slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, I was out late last night. Say, I was just about to go grab a coffee. Wanna come?"
I'm pretty sure he's not hitting on me after seeing the way he let that oddball Jakotsu ride on his back out of the library, so I agree. It will give me a bit more time before getting home anyways. I don't have any other classes today, thank goodness for that, so I would probably just go straight home otherwise. Going home would mean confronting Sesshou-maru, and I haven't yet put my mind to thinking up a good way to go about talking to him. Knowing me I'll just end up blurting out 'I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you last night, but you better be sorry too' or something equally as stupid. I think my mind has blown it all out of proportion anyways. I'm beginning to watch for my 'father' in the crowds too, just in case.
Bankotsu and I find a seat in a cozy little on campus place called 'Café Chitchat'. The word 'cozy' has been overused to describe things these days, but that's really what it is; warm and small, but friendly. A young man with messy brown hair about as long as mine serves us our drinks, though he seems to be more caught up in talking to the band setting up for their performance tonight than anything. I think I've heard something about them from someone in another class. Maybe I'll drag Sesshou-maru out to a show sometime… but there I go, getting ahead of myself.
"I drink way too much coffee," I admit to Bankotsu, sipping the steaming beverage from a mug with an abstract looking cat painted on it. "I think everyone does. It's like we've become obsessed."
"It's the caffeine," he says.
I nod. "So, where's Jakotsu now?"
"Working," Bankotsu answers. "He had to take the shift today because he took Tuesday night off. Usually he waits outside and drags me off someplace."
"You two are…"
He chuckles, clearly amused. "Together. Yeah."
"Well, I wasn't sure how to ask… Anyways, my boyfriend does the same thing, picking me up from class." I say. "Only he does it because he kinda overprotective… speaking of him…" I quiet for a moment, narrowing my eyes at the checker-patterned tablecloth.
"Are you going to continue that thought or should I pretend you didn't say anything?" Bankotsu asks after I fail to say any more.
I begin running my finger around the rim of my mug (the look the green and purple cat on it is giving me is really starting to creep me out), still not meeting his eye. "I suggest forgetting."
With my peripheral vision, I can see him shift, as if a little uncomfortable. "Look, if you came here to cheat on him with me… I'm out. Sorry."
I laugh, though it sounds bitter as it comes out. "No, no, that wasn't it at all."
The thought has crossed my mind before, when I begin to get fed up with Sesshou-maru and it all starts to seem like a dream I never quite grasped and just thought I was living. Maybe, I would think, I'll sneak out for the evening, go to a club and get completely wasted just for fun. As much as I enjoyed that lifestyle and I miss it more than occasionally, I know I'm drawn to the harmful side of it. Besides… I don't want to cheat on Sesshou-maru… I'm happy with him. I don't want to ruin that.
"As much as I was flattered by the thought, I'm glad," Bankotsu continues. "So… how long have you going to the college for."
"Just started this year," I answer. I hope he doesn't ask my age. It always feels awkward when I tell people I'm older than all the other first-years, even if it's not by much.
He nods. "Same. Though I doubt I'll finish. School's not my sorta thing."
"What do you want to do then?"
He gives another one of those smile-smirks. "Oh, there are plenty of high paying jobs one can do without going to some little rich-ass school to get a degree. Trust me."
Trust is something I don't take lightly, but I choose not to say this, instead directing my attention to the stage, on which the woman I think owns this place steps up on stage. I didn't think the show would start this early but it seems that's just what's happening, as she introduces the band (I didn't quite get the name, as it was something odd and she spoke quickly, her words lilted by a French accent). Within seconds, the once 'cozy' café is filled with a lazy drumbeat accompanied by electric guitar and stand up bass played by a rather short girl who looks as if she's going to be crushed by her instrument.
I turn the cup so the cat is facing away from me and not looking at me with that stupid 'I know something you don't know' grin that reminds me too much of Bankotsu.
o
My pencil scratches against the paper, though the lead grey marks I make are quickly erased a second later, as I can easily see how wrong my answer is. I glare at the equation. Math never was my forte, but these days it feels like I'm slipping…
"Miroku-san," I start, looking at the teen across the library table from me.
He looks up from his novel. "Yes, Kagome?"
I sigh, tapping my beat-up textbook with the eraser end of my pencil. "I hate math."
"I see…" He smiles knowingly. "Need help then, do you?"
I glare at him for a few seconds before giving in and nodding. Chuckling lightly at my misfortune, Miroku pulls out his chair and heads over to me. He often comes to the library to get his homework done, which is the same thing I like to do. Souta tends to pester me when I try to do mine at home, and I can't ask Grandpa for help without getting an earful about something or other, so it's easiest just to do it here. That and Buyo always tries to eat my pencil whenever I'm writing.
"What do you need help on?"
"Dividing fractions. It's so dumb! I keep doing it wrong but I don't know what I'm doing wrong so I can't fix it, and-"
"Calm down, calm down. Here, I'll take a look…"
He puts a hand on my shoulder and peers down at my attempts at equations, eyes quickly scanning my work. He arm is near to my face, and I can smell a slight bit of incense on him. There's a hole in the sleeve of his washed-out blue t-shirt just about big enough for me to fit my pinky finger through. He's not too wealthy, I know that, but at least he's not as bad off as Inuyasha. The two know each other, though they don't seem to get along extremely well. Probably because Inuyasha is so temperamental and moody all the time and Miroku is rather skilled at reading people. He can tell what to say and do to get under people's skin, or to somehow get them to slip up and reveal more information than they wanted to. Hey, maybe he knows…
"Miroku-san?" I ask, my fingers beginning to jitter and weave in and out of themselves in nervous habit, an idiosyncrasy of mine I can't seem to quit. "Do you know who 'she' is?"
His gaze flickers from my half-finished work sheet to me, an eyebrow raised in question.
"I'm afraid I don't follow. Who is 'she'?"
I rest my fingers on the edge of the table in an attempt to make them stop their movements. "'She'… the person Inuyasha always refers to. He's never actually said her name, just sometimes he'll begin mumbling when we get in a fight or when I bring him something. It's been bothering me for a while."
Miroku sits in the chair beside me, his usually amused expression turning pensive. "Have you asked him about it?"
I snort. "That jerk won't tell me. He just snaps 'None of your business!' or ignores me. That's why I'm asking you."
"I know what you mean," he chuckles, leaning back a little in his chair. He eyes me for a few seconds, my fingers tapping restlessly against the tabletop and a feeling a self-consciousness coming over me. I may consider Miroku my friend, like a brother in a way, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a pervert, and sometime I worry.
"Kagome, do you like Inuyasha?"
I can feel the heat rushing into my cheeks. "What? Miroku-san! What are you talking about?"
"You like Inuyasha," Miroku says cheerily, delighted at what he seems to think he has uncovered. His smug laughter does nothing to soften the accusation.
I shake my head viciously. "No, no, no! I don't!" Remembering our location, I lower my voice, glowering at him. "Besides, you never answered my question."
"True enough," he answers, resting on arm on the back of his chair. The thin silver chain he wears around his wrist clinks softly against the metal of the chair's frame as he becomes contemplative once again.
"I do believe I might've heard something about an ex-girlfriend of his," he tells me after a while. "She may have been who Inuyasha was talking about."
"An ex-girlfriend?"
"You're jealous," he comments, giving me a wink.
"I am not jealous!" I protest, setting my lips in a pout.
Miroku laughs. "Unfortunately, that's all I really know of the tale. I've heard things, yes, but…"
"But?"
"Well, I don't know if they're true at all, and some of them I don't want your young ears to hear," Miroku teases. He picks up my discarded pencil and slides my worksheet over to him, making a note on the side of the page.
"I have to go home now," he tells me as he writes, "since it's my night to cook. But here, I've figured out what you're doing wrong. You invert both the fractions; you only need to invert one, and that's why all your answers are wrong. Everything else is fine." He hands the paper to me, leaning across the table to grab his things. He quickly dog-ears a page in his novel and shoves it into his bag, then pulls on his jacket. "I'll see you later then?"
"Kay."
He gives me a slight wave as he hurries away. However, he pauses after several steps, turning back with a mischievous light in his eyes.
"Oh, Kagome?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure you don't like Inuya-"
"Yes, now would you stop with that?"
"Is that your final answer?" he jokes. "Oh come on, Kagome, I was just messing with you."
"Goodbye, Miroku-san."
I sigh and get back to erasing the half hour's worth of work I had done incorrectly, the paper wearing thin and threatening to tear where it's been attacked by the pink rubber more than once.
Stupid Miroku… Of course I don't like Inuyasha. I mean, we're just friends. It's not like he'd ever want to be anything more, so there's no point in even considering such a thing. I doubt Mama would let me 'date' a boy anyways. Sure, Inuyasha can be nice sometimes, and after a while he doesn't seem like such a jerk because you know he doesn't really mean half the things he says, and sometimes when he actually says thank you or pays some attention to me it feels really good, but that does mean I like him. Not at all.
o
I don't know how long I've been standing outside the door to our apartment. At least five minutes, probably more. Bankotsu and I stayed for the band's performance (their name, I found out afterwards, is The Banana Sinners), but parted ways after that. I then came directly here, where I have been standing, staring at the doorknob, for a considerably pathetic amount of time. It would be so easy just to reach out, twist the doorknob and open the fricking door – just like magic! – but no, my hand is staying at my side, refusing to respond to the reasoning and urges of the reckless side of me. I sound schizophrenic or something, don't I?
It's just a door.
It's our door. The door to the apartment I live in with Sesshou-maru.
He's on the other side of that door, and part of me does not want to face him just yet.
This is stupid. Why am I getting so damn worked up over this?
"Kagura."
I startle and look to the direction of the voice. Sesshou-maru stands beside me with an impassive expression, plastic grocery bags hanging from his hands, the objects within pressing into the material as if trying to break out. I'm silent for a second (stupid stupid stupid) before my reckless side takes me over and I snap out of my trance.
"Hey," I say, trying to be somewhat casual. "I thought you'd be home already."
"I went to the store," he answers, fishing the key from his pocket. "We were running low on a few things."
I step out of his way so he can unlock the door, remembering now that I had forgotten my key today in my rush this morning and must have left the apartment unlocked all day until he got home. Oh well, at least I have an excuse for standing in front of the door like a moron now.
He puts the bags on the kitchen table and begins putting the groceries away with his coat and shoes still on. I kick off my sneakers and quickly head over to help him. I detest this feeling of uncertainty brewing inside of me. My recklessness decides to take advantage of this. I can almost feel her laughing.
"Well," I hear myself saying as I pull a carton of milk from the bag and shove it into an empty space on one of the shelves in our fridge, "are we going to talk about it?"
His muscles stiffen, and he pauses for a second before shutting the cupboard. "If you want to."
I slide out a chair from under the table and slide into the seat, casting my eyes at him as he turns around and leans back against the counter. There comes a pregnant muteness that mocks me just as harshly as the annoying guilt in the back of my head that has been dancing on my brain all day and yet still has energy for more. This is what you would call an awkward silence.
"Last night," I start, looking a little bit past him to the kitchen wall, "was… I think… oh, Hell." I take a breath, trying to figure out the proper words. I usually just go with whatever comes to the top of my head, but there's so much bubbling up right now, all pushing and shoving to get out at once that I can barely see straight. Another breath and I set off again. "Alright. I… I'm sorry if… I know it came off as I was shutting myself off," I'm finally able to blurt out, "but I didn't really mean it like that. I was just really upset about the bastard who is my 'father' being somewhat near me, after the whole mess with Kagewaki and all the other shit that happened… shit I really, really don't want to remember. So I'm sorry that pissed you off and that this sort-of-apology is so crappy. But you…"
He shifts, golden eyes fixated loosely on a spot to his right. For a while, there is another bit of an anxious, impatient silence in which I try to make my heart rate return to a speed considered somewhat normal. There, I've done my part, now it's up to him to do his. Unless, of course, he doesn't feel he needs to say anything. No, he will. He may be a pompous bastard some of the time, but he's not that coldhearted or egotistical. I don't think.
The silence continues to buzz loud in my ears, pounding white noise. Good thing I already put the milk away. It might have spoiled.
"I too," he begins (finally), in soft even tones, "should apologize for my behavior… I lost control and my temper, unreasonably. And I…"
I exhale slowly, hoping the awkwardness will cease to linger around us like humidity, thick in the air. Please, please, please let things be normal and good again. It's odd for life to be this fucked up unless we did something to deserve it, which I don't think we did… Maybe it just doesn't like us, who knows?
Sesshou-maru continues, his voice a deep lull. "I'm sorry… I almost hurt you."
The words are startlingly full, almost trembling. He rocks forward so his weight is no longer held by the counter but now by his feet.
"It's fine," I say, eager for this to end.
He says something in a slurred murmur as he takes a few steps forwards, but I can't quite make it out.
"Like I said, it's fine," I tell him, regardless. "It was just a little squabble, well, more than that I suppose, but"- I'm babbling. This isn't good. -"it's nothing people don't do all the time. If we didn't fight, I'd be worried, you know? In any case, I think will be fine now… I'll just…"
I stop as I feel his arms wrap around me from behind, my mouth left partially open where sound has stopped. The back of the chair separates most of our bodies, but I can feel his cheek rest atop my head, one arm draped across my shoulder, the other resting beneath my breasts. I close my mouth and let him hold me for a while, leaning my head back against his shoulder. Problem solved?
"Are you going to continue keeping all those things buried inside of you?" Sesshou-maru asks eventually.
I want to. I don't want them to contaminate what I have now… It would be accurate to say I'm ashamed of a lot of the things I did, of the things I was.
"You don't want to know," I tell him.
He doesn't seem to believe me, giving a silence in response.
"Why do you to hear about it so bad anyways?" I ask.
"I want to know what's hurting you, Kagura."
"It's not…"
It is.
Sometimes I hate him. I hate him because he's right about me, and it's frightening to have someone know you that well.
"Okay, fine," I say reluctantly, knowing he's right and detesting it. "I'll… some other time, I'll tell you."
"When you're ready," he says simply. I feel one of his hands reach up to brush against my cheek, tipping my head towards him. I tilt my head back and his lips meet mine.
The wounds I received long ago feel raw far too often, and though I try to ignore it, they just aren't healing properly. In my frustration, I end up scraping them all open again and forming new ones. A slow, unintentional suicide.
I just pray to whatever sort of Gods there may be he doesn't leave me when I tell him. Sometimes I really don't like myself for my past. Every little weakness and flaw just adds to the stains I can't wash off of me. Every little thing is blown out of proportion and there I am, one huge stupid mistake that can't do anything right. That's how it seems to me, anyways. I learned not to give a flying fuck about such things, but my self-criticalness has become innate, no matter how hard I try to smother it.
I slip my tongue through Sesshou-maru's lips, lifting my hands to wrap my arms around his neck, knitting my fingers into his hair.
Don't you dare let go.
End chapter 14