life in moderation
chapter 18: Paint Broken Glass
Notes: Nothing to say this time besides "I'm sorry for the wait, guys!"
disclaimed.
o
Everyone has their habits and idiosyncrasies, whether developed from nervousness, annoyance or something else entirely. People work in routines and personalities have patterns; predicting them is easy enough if you've got half a brain and the will to look. There really is no way to escape them either, and that makes for one of my favourite ways to get the best of someone. Just slip beneath someone's skin and burrow yourself in deep until they begin to itch from it, badly. Make them scratch their own flesh open into gaping pomegranate holes, dripping sweet with redness. Make them tear it open, more and more until they destroy themselves…
Now that is the kind of victory I truly enjoy watching. Very entertaining.
Habits and idiosyncrasies; that is how I can tell something is bothering Bankotsu. First of all, he's humming. Bankotsu never hums, mainly because he's tone deaf. Not only this, but his feet are tapping restlessly (and rhythmlessly) against the floor, the movement of his hands jerky and indecisive as he puts his socks back on. He's done these things before; next he'll start drinking a lot of milk – I know, it's weird, but that's what he does – and after that he'll get really frazzled and shower three times a day.
I'm tempted to just sit and watch him from here at the other end of the bed. He sits with his legs hanging down to the floor, half-dressed in only his jeans, with his hair undone in long wavelengths of black-black-black hair that is simply lovely to tangle my fingers in. I study the tanned and finely muscled skin of his back as he bends for the shirt carelessly left on the floor. I guess that would be my fault, but making love in the morning (early afternoon, actually, since we both sleep late) is often just so wonderful, and he looked so delicious with his hair all messy like it was that I couldn't resist! He served me breakfast in an apron, for Gods sakes; the least I could do was strip and give him a good fuck or two before…
Well, anyways.
Keeping one cotton bed-sheet wrapped around me, I crawl forwards to him and lift my hands to touch his shoulders. He starts immediately, the muscles tensing and becoming hard beneath the skin. I push in my fingers in.
"I'm going to be late, Jakotsu," he mutters to me, but despite his annoyance, he's most definitely enjoying it. Guilty pleasures – yummy. "I'd love to go again, but I've got a class…"
I press my fingers in a bit harder, manipulating the knots in the tissue until they begin to loosen.
"It's not that; you just looked kinda tense."
"Well…"
My thumbs begin tracing small circles on the back of his neck. "What are you worried about, hm? And don't you dare deny it, or else."
"Or else what?"
"I'll punish you…" I murmur, smiling to myself. Aw, now I kind of hope he does deny it. Punishment sounds fun.
His mouth cracks with laughter as he gradually lets himself lean back to rest against me. Giving in so easily?
"Is it about that woman and Naraku and everything?" I ask.
Bankotsu nods. "What the Hell else would it be about? I dunno. I guess I'm still just not really sure…" His words are cut off in a moan as one of the taut bundles in his shoulders finally comes undone, now lax and soft. I smirk a little despite myself.
"I don't care what happens to that girl," I tell him frankly. "Whatever we do is fine with me, as long as it's fun. And murdering Naraku sounds quite a bit more enjoyable then just handing over a girl for some cash, in my opinion."
Bankotsu laughs again. "You're such a sadist."
"I know, dear."
My hands flit away from his shoulders as he pulls on his shirt, then back again to manage his hair into one thick, long braid. He's still anxious, but at least he's not humming anymore.
I remember… one of the things we decided in the Shichinintai all those years ago was that we'll all die without regrets. If we're defeated, then it's because we reached the end of the line. Everyone gets there eventually and there's no point in worrying over it. Live the way you want to live. Fight your hardest and don't sell yourself short. Why should you? It's your life to live however you goddamn want to. You've got one shot to make it your best. I still hold this very, very true.
If I die while trying to kill Naraku, I'll die beside Bankotsu. Perhaps with him…
Fixing an elastic around the end of the braid, I kiss his neck softly.
If I die while trying to kill Naraku, while going all out for the thrill of the bloodshed, I know I'll die without regret. And that is enough for me.
o
"Kikyou…"
Inuyasha takes a step forwards towards the black-haired girl and away, staring at her with a quiet fierceness, stronger than that he usually shows. This girl seems a little out of place to me, as she stands idly beside the small out-dated car with that large jacket draped over her shoulders for warmth (but probably not enough). The jacket looks like it belongs to the man next to her, a small black suitcase held in his hands. It seems very quiet all around us now, though the city is still very much alive. It's so strange to me, how Inuyasha just stopped still as soon as he saw the girl. Then again, he has been acting oddly all day…
He says her name again, and the girl's steely eyes flickers up to meet ours – well, to Inuyasha's; not mine – and my breath catches a little with the force contained in them. Somehow, she manages to keep her face as still and emotionless all the while, just like the face of one of those dolls you keep all wrapped in their boxes and put on shelves. You never play with them. I remember having a few, and I was almost afraid to touch them for fear I'd drop them and they'd shatter. Her eyes are so much like theirs that I find myself feeling a little bad for her.
They seem like painted glass…
And I hate to admit it, but she is kinda pretty, even dressed in such a way and with such pained eyes, (though it's possible they make her even more pretty). Much better than the girls in my class that pile make-up on their faces and laugh too loudly all the time. Yes, she's pretty; pretty, and if I'm allowed to say it, a little like me. Just a little, though, if she even does at all. Maybe…
I'm tempted to reach up my hand and tug at Inuyasha's sleeve, to ask him about who this girl is, but I know he wouldn't even hear me if I tried. He seems completely focused on her, like she's the only thing that matters right now to him. And maybe she is. Maybe they're old friends, or something (something more?)… but I really have no way of knowing unless he tells me. There are too many maybes going around in my head right now, and it just makes me all the more confused.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, Inuyasha," the girl says. Then she smiles just a little and I don't want to know if she's mocking him or not. "What an interesting stroke of fate this is."
"You never told me were coming back!" he shouts angrily to her, scowling.
"I had no way to contact you," Kikyou answers calmly. "You know that."
"Yeah, well…" Inuyasha jerks his head down to look at the ground, and then back up to her. "Well, you're back now, aren't you? Are you going to explain things or what?"
She shakes her head. "Now isn't the time."
Inuyasha's eyes narrow, darken, and I know that he's getting really frustrated now, with both her and himself. And I can't help but wonder… Oh! You know, what? I think that this is that girl; the one Inuyasha won't tell me anything about even though he's the only who always brings it up! It only makes sense. They obviously know each other from a while ago, in a more than friendly sort of way, and something must've happened that… Jeez, what am I thinking? It's none of my business! But still, it has to be her, doesn't it?
"What do you mean, 'now is not the time'?" Inuyasha is yelling at her viciously, hands drawn into fists like he's ready to lash out at something. She doesn't flinch or even back down a little bit, like I usually do. "I want an explanation, Kikyou! You can't just show up and then deny me that! Come on! After all that, you're just going to leave me in the dark?"
I watch the exchange quietly, unnoticed, like I've stopped existing for a little piece of time or magically become invisible. Being invisible would be nice sometimes, but not now, not here. Between Inuyasha and this girl, Kikyou…I don't think there's a place for me. And for some reason, that bothers me.
Kikyou doesn't answer him, staying her guarded silence. Behind Inuyasha and I, a truck rumbles by and I hear someone yelling, but it's all just background noise to this. And then the opportunity strikes and I seize it, the way Mama has always told me to, and I feel my hand reaching up to tug on Inuyasha's sleeve. Just lightly, coyly, as not to get him any angrier than he already is. His cheeks are flushed with it, or maybe he's just colder than he let on.
"Inuyasha? Tell me what's going on," I whisper-yell, trying to make him listen. I at least want to know a little of it, to try to understand a little what's going on between Inuyasha and this 'Kikyou'. He doesn't seem to hear, or perhaps he's ignoring me again, so I say a little louder, "This is her, isn't it, Inuyasha? That girl?"
At this, he seems to snap, turning to me quickly and then pulling away once more. His eyes are ablaze, brighter than I've ever seen them.
"It's none of your business, Kagome! Goddamnit, just go home!"
"But-"
And then Kikyou is looking at me, smiling just a little in an unpleasant way.
"And who is this, Inuyasha?"
"No one important," he grumbles, turning his head away and scuffing at the ground with his sneakers, as if embarrassed. Embarrassed by me? I startle at the words. How dare he say something like that! It's one thing to ignore me for her, but this!
"No one important?" I retort to the unresponsive back of his head. "Inuyasha, you jerk!"
It sounds childish as it comes out of my mouth; childish in the presence of this Kikyou who seems so much older and reserved, but I don't think either of them were even listening to me. Again, they're just looking at each other with those looks of anger, hurt and desperation, and talking to each other in words that have hidden meanings only they can see. It's like I'm not even here… But I can't really blame Inuyasha, I guess. I mean, if I was in his place and I was meeting with someone I used to know, I'd be pretty focused on them too, right? It's so stupid though, because I still feel, well… jealous. Left out.
"I guess," Kikyou murmurs, "I should at least tell you that I am okay now, and I'll be living here, so you can find me if you need me… And please, know I don't want any hard feelings between us, but we'll talk about that some other time. I promise."
She promises.
"Why can't we talk about it now?" he shouts, getting desperate now. "Kikyou! Do you still…" His voice gets a little quiet. "I mean, I…"
She turns around quickly, dirtied running shoes scratching against the rough pavement. "As I said, Inuyasha," she says firmly, "some other time."
"Kikyou!" he yells hoarsely after her, but she's already walking away. As she passes the man with the suitcase, she pauses and mumbles something that sounds like "I'm sorry," before disappearing into the building. As soon as she's gone, Inuyasha grunts violently and kicks at the ground, like a child who hasn't gotten his way. Nonetheless, I step gingerly towards him in attempt to calm him down but he just jerks away, irate as ever.
"Damnit, Kagome, just go the fuck away!" he yells and begins to walk off, hands shoved into his pockets and his head dropped low to his chest. The idiot…
For a while, I stare after him, unsure. It's cold; maybe Inuyasha was right and I should just go home, but I want to go after him. I really want to go after him…
He's quite a bit ahead of me, weaving through a thin crowd of people. They're the type of people that Mama would probably tell me not to talk to or even look at, but Mama's not here right now so I head straight through them, bumping shoulders with a few on my way past. I'm not a little girl anymore, and I can go after him if I want to.
I finally catch up to him at a corner where the stoplight has turned red, and he can't go any further for now. I guess he hears my footsteps despite the noise of the crowd because as I come up behind him he hisses, "What did I tell you, Kagome?"
"To go the fuck away," I answer blandly, and he winces, glancing up at the stoplight. Still red. He doesn't apologize.
"I was right, wasn't I?" I say after a pause. "Kikyou is 'that girl'."
"And what's it to you?" Inuyasha barks, glancing defensively over his shoulder. "Huh? Why the Hell d'you wanna know so bad anyways?" An old woman with a paisley shawl over her head gives him a angry look before shuffling away down the sidewalk, the kind teachers in school give you when they catch you running in the halls or talking too loudly.
I shrug, trying not to draw back at his outbursts. "I wanted to know, because… because I…"
Why did I want to know? I don't really know why just that I do, and badly. It bugs me that I'm unaware of what's going on, and the reason why Inuyasha doesn't want to tell me about Kikyou, and because… because…
Because Inuyasha worries me. When I know he's sleeping on a bench somewhere or that he's probably hungry, I get worried and nervous and want to see him to make sure he's okay. And because right now, he's upset and even though he's such an idiot…
He sighs loudly at my lack of a spoken answer. "Exactly. Just go."
"No," I mumble as I step forwards, my hands squeezing themselves into fists. I can see where snowflakes rest on his hair, the colour difference small.
Because I worry about him, and I…
He turns around, looking at me in a tired sort of way. "Kagome, would you just…"
No. No, no, no I won't! I won't let you go!
I wondered which of us is more surprised, Inuyasha or me, when I give in to whim, stand up on my tiptoes, and kiss him.
o
It's well after midnight when I wake up Sesshou-maru, jerking his naked shoulder with one hand until his eyes come half-open as he looks at me hazily and squints against the yellowed lamplight that floods over us. He's probably pissed that I'm bothering him this late at night, but he'll just have to deal with it for now.
"What is it, Kagura?" he asks, knocking a few strands of sleep-mussed hair from his face, and then blinking wearily a few times as if his eyes won't stay open properly.
"It's in the house," I tell him anxiously, and he gives me a blank look.
"The house?"
I dig my elbows into the pillow for support. "The house that I grew up in. Whatever Naraku wants from me… I think it has to with the house."
That house; a tall white-brick mini-mansion with an iron gate, a large porch and small windows that shed little light into the rooms inside. It's number 53. I still remember that. I still remember the fourth and fifth steps on the stairs creak loudly when you step on them and just about how far it was from Kanna's white-curtained room to mine. It's the kind of house that looks pleasant enough – somewhat old-fashioned in a classy way, though it's obviously been under recent renovation – but underneath there's just something that makes you not want to stay… That's how it was for me, anyways.
"What makes you think that?" Sesshou-maru asks as he shifts onto his side. One of his hands snakes onto my lower back, and I can feel its warmth even through the thick sheets that cover us. It's a pleasant change from the cold of this apartment, since the furnace for this building is a total bitch. My toes feel like they're frozen and about to fall off!
"I dunno. I just… do," I answer him. "I mean, it's either something in my head that he wants, or he intends to use me for something… But I think it's that I know something. And whenever I try to figure out what it is, I keep coming back to the house…"
(…footsteps on the stairs, and voices. I'm shaking and it's cold. I'm shaking and it hurts. Coming closer…)
"Can you figure out what it is exactly?" he asks, paying me quite a bit of attention now.
I shrug quietly. "Not really. A lot of things went on in that house…"
(I can hear them; hear the floorboards screaming and shaking under each footstep. I cover my mouth with one hand, and the other clenches until it hurts…
Closer…)
He opens his lips a little bit as if to say something, but nothing comes out, and his eyes soon shift down to the mattress. I rest my chin on the heel of my hand, wondering if I should say anything. You know, just to make sure he doesn't just make himself go mental wondering about what I've said. Unfortunately, though, my mind hardly lingers on it before jumping to something else. I'm not sure if I've actually slept or not since we settled down a few hours ago, but my body still desperately wants me to rest. Sighing, I let one arm hang down off the mattress and brush against the mess on the floor. Goddamn, our bedroom is dirty…
I jerk my mind back to where it's supposed to be, gingerly peeling at the scabs formed over the gaping wounds that part of my life left in my memories. I was just a kid then, so I've forgotten a lot of it, and probably a lot of the rest of it I made myself forget, though some things I just can't get rid of. I'm positive that it's something in my head though; something I've hidden or mangled beyond recognition. Naraku wouldn't go to such measures if he just wanted to fuck around with me again. The recollections only come in bits and pieces right now, faded and jagged fragments, but it's enough that I'm sure. It's in that house…
"I've got to go back," I say, always the first one to break the silence.
Sesshou-maru looks up at me, vaguely alarmed. "Back to the house?"
"Where else?"
"Are you sure?" he asks running his hand up my spine gently. "Couldn't it be something else?"
"Could be," I admit. "But I want to go back."
"Kagura…" he says it in such a way that I know he's thinking that I'm just tired and making rash decisions. "Didn't Naraku move out of that house a while ago?"
"Yeah, but I doubt he sold it. I mean, if someone finds something in there that's been left behind – and you know what kind of something I mean – then he's fucked over completely." I laugh dryly at this, though Sesshou-maru just continues staring steadily, displeased, his hand resting between my shoulder blades. The sheets have slipped down a bit so I can feel his skin against mine. Against that scar. I wonder if I feel cold and rough to him; unpolished…
"If you do go," he tells me slowly, as if he's hesitant even to let me get the idea in my head, "you know you won't be going alone."
"Yeah, I know," I say. "I wasn't planning to. I'll call Bankotsu in the morning too, and tell him. Kay?"
He makes a soft noise of agreement (or maybe it's just tolerance) in his throat.
We're quiet again.
Maybe it's just the faint lighting exaggerating things, but he looks more tired than I've ever seen him before. Faint lines under his eyes make him look older than I know he is, darkened by thin crescents of shadow. He looks worried, anxious, like there's too many things on his mind right now. He looks worried about me…
I never knew it would feel this good to have someone care about you.
"You should go back to sleep," he tells me now, glancing up. "It's late."
No shit, Sherlock.
I bring my knees up to my chest and his arm draws us a little closer. My eyes are relieved to close again, and my body puts up no protests as he brings my head to rest against chest. It's blissfully warm, and it's dark…
(…with only slivers of light leaking through; it was still the type of vague blue morning you get before sunrise, a glowing darkness that completely swallows you. My entire body feels like it was plunged into a fucking bucket of ice, everywhere except for my throat, since the back of it still stings hot with vomit I had to swallow back down, and a place on my arm that feels like it's bleeding out all my warmth. So redly, onto the floor. It's making a little lake, and there are things splashing about in it like it's a fucking party they're having, or a Sabbat.
Sick.
You sick fuck…
My hands are empty. Why are you even bothering? I'm not going to tell you. I'm not giving you the satisfaction.
Bastard.
I'm not even going to try to move. Even as I breathe, it hurts like Hell inside my chest, worse than any time before this. But really, what's another scar? It's nothing I can't take.
His eyes are peering down at me now. Telling me I deserve it. Perversely enjoying it, but he's not happy, I can tell. Of course, I won't be…
He says something, taking a step towards me. That's funny. I can hardly hear it, even though the taste of blood is sharp in my mouth as he leans down over me, his form blocking any light left coming in from the window. He mumbles something, but his mouth is hidden by the tangled shadow that's climbed up his chest has begun to overtake his face, like a thick vine with a mind of it's own. They shoot up from all sides of me now, like they belong to some kind of monster…
I'm only half here, and the words he says only half reach my ears, but as he reaches down to me the sensation is amplified. My body jerks of its own accord as he flips me over roughly, my mouth and eyes opening wide no matter how hard I try to keep them closed. I can feel his disgusting fingers prying, their message clear. His fingers trace down my spine, but I can't even move… can't do anything… Oh Gods…!
There are still slivers in my fingertips from the closet doors, searing as if a reminder of it all (like I need one), and he's smiling. He's fucking smiling! And that twisted his mouth…
…against my ears, are…
"Where is it?"
…broken, and I can't…
…digs into my flesh, that red…)
The next time I'm awake, the clock reads 4 am and my forehead feels damp with sweat. We're covered in the glow of lamplight once more, and Sesshou-maru is holding me, staring at me as I settle into reality. The sound of my heartbeat is fantastically loud as I grasp at the tails of the images fading from my head. The glimpses are familiar, but make no sense, leaving only panic.
It feels like… like Naraku is still in my head, coming after me from there. But he can't be…
I curl up against Sesshou-maru, ignoring the questions he's whispering urgently in my ear. This is going to be a lot more complicated than I first thought, even if I don't want to admit it. But I should have expected it! You'd think I would have remembered…
With Naraku, nothing ever comes easy.
end chapter 18