Memory's Moon: Somewhere To Belong
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She'd been feeling guilty about chasing Inuyasha away.
He really did care for Kagome, after all- having been the recipient of 'gruff affection' more than once in her youth, she knew that boys were usually pretty mean to females they were fond of- and she knew that her friends on the other side of the well would miss her greatly, especially the little kitsune boy that held a special place in Kagome's affections. Kagome hadn't exactly been in the best of emotional health under the influence of the pressures that accompanied their weighty quest… but as a mother, Takako had known that Kagome belonged there, where magic still ran rampant.
Kagome had been just like her father, really.
Shinta and his magic… the magic that her own father had admired so much… Kagome had never questioned her mother's unfailing acceptance of her 'experiences'. Of their surviving family, only Kagome had forgotten from the start… that magic was nothing new to the Higurashi. Even Souta- blessed from his conception by a loving father- had always known- on some instinctive level- that magic was real.
The magic of Shinta's bloodlines had run so strongly in Kagome; Shinta doted outrageously on her. Takako hadn't approved of spoiling their child- "What if she grows up to be a little princess?"- but he would get a strange, distant- (almost sad?)- look in his eyes as he ducked his head and smiled a little sheepishly, the boyish mannerism that courtship and marriage had failed to erase.
She still wondered, sometimes, if he had foreseen Kagome's adventures long ago.
And then… on that night of crushing labor pains as she clutched at her father's lined palms and screamed for her beloved… Shinta had vanished without a trace, and Kagome had come running into the birth chamber, more terrified of the monsters outside than of her mother's messy afterbirth, shrieking that the well had eaten her daddy.
After that night, Kagome's magic vanished as if it had never been. She forgot the monster, forgot that her missing daddy had been an onmyouji himself… forgot that magic was real. Takako had tried to preserve the fragile child's world that Shinta had cultivated for his darling doomed daughter, but she gave up eventually. Her aging father was made of sterner stuff; though eventually he too came to see magic as merely something to be capitalized on, he never ceased trying to prick his granddaughter's abilities awake again.
Time passed… then Kagome herself had fallen down the well… and met all her friends…
Takako was guilty, still. She felt horrible for days after sending Inuyasha back down the well...
"Pardon my intrusion."
Her guilty conscience vanished on the wings of outrage and horror as she stared at the tall, regal youkai who stood imposingly in the center of the shrine courtyard, a hog-tied Inuyasha slung casually over his shoulder like an unusually bulky red jacket. Cool, slitted gold eyes pinned her in mid-step, daring her to turn tail and run down the stairs again.
And then the regal demon's gaze flicked sideways, almost nervously, and he gave a very quiet cough. "You will come to no harm by this…one's… hands," he qualified, determinedly glaring at one of the Shinto gate posts. "Neither does this one intend to involve Ka…Kagome."
He was nervous.
And hadn't Shinta once told her to simply welcome those who needed rest?
Takako felt her mouth thin at the sensation of nostalgic sorrow as she steeled herself for the harrowing task ahead of her.
"…please do me the honor of taking tea…" Her mouth formed the formal words stiffly, reluctantly.
The youkai inclined his head, gaze sweeping back to her face with almost invisible relief. "As my hostess wills, so it shall be," he replied quietly, and stood aside to let her walk stiltedly past.
Funny that Kagome had never mentioned a youkai like this before…?
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The well had an impeccable sense of timing, he decided placidly; no sooner had he leapt from its guiding confines and walked into the open space before the large shrine, than Higurashi's wife came up the many flights of stairs that led up to the estate. Inuyasha stiffened and went silent as the woman's scent reached them, making his half-brother frown very slightly.
Higurashi's wife must be a stern woman indeed. Although Higurashi had not described his beloved in quite a way, Sesshoumaru was familiar with time's inevitable changes upon humans. For a mere human to intimidate a hanyou in such a way… either Inuyasha was more of a puppy than his age might suggest, or she had thoroughly dominated the discussion. Both were equally likely…
And the stiff dignity with which she conducted herself as she guided him into her cramped living space… indicated that Inuyasha's discomfort stemmed from the latter rather than the former reason. Every move she made screamed her reluctance, her desire for him to be out of her place as soon as humanly (or inhumanly, as the case may be) possible. Her posture also strongly suggested that the only thing that prevented her from taking a broom to his head was the ages-old tradition of guesting courtesy.
He grimaced inwardly. Higurashi, you didn't say she was so… hostile. You said she was a 'sweet, tender beauty'…
Not that hostility would have prevented him from carrying out the duties entrusted to him.
"You stay there and be quiet," he murmured sternly at his half-brother as the hanyou came to rest gently beside the closed door, prompting Inuyasha to give a subdued (and somewhat worrying) nod of the head. The miko's estrangement must have affected him more strongly than his earlier manner might suggest.
Hm.
The 'tea' she made was a strange, bitter stuff, quite similar to the plain green tea that was commonly drunk in teahouses, but with the fragrance of jasmine flowers. It was not, strictly speaking, the kind of tea one served for such an august occasion as this, and he was well within his rights to kill her for her miserly courtesy, but Higurashi deserved this little mercy, even if his wife did not appear to be worthy of that clemency.
Nevertheless, not wishing to spend any more time here in this hovel than he absolutely needed to, he cut straight to the point as soon as the basic courtesies had been observed. "I have a message for you from your husband." She froze, tea sloshing out of the mug that slid out of suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter onto the soiled tablecloth before her.
When the woman spoke, it was with a brittle hope lilting through her voice. "Shinta… is alive? Did he fall down the well too?"
Is he going to come home?
Sesshoumaru felt no remorse at dashing her hopes; rather, the sadness that darkened his citrine gaze was regret for the man who had once been a close friend to a very young pup. "It was the last words of a man facing death," he said quietly, and sipped his tea as tears scented the air, a low moaning keen escaping his hostess. Her grief, like Shinta's, was raw and too private to be displayed, so he studied the bitter green liquid while she composed herself to hear her mate's parting words, echoing through the ages, undiminished by the proxy who carried it to her.
Gradually the moaning sound faded, though a hoarse undertone abraded the edges of his hearing in rhythm with her pained breaths. She rubbed defiantly at her tear-stained face with one palm in a curiously childlike motion, then her gaze, bright with unshed moisture, shot up to meet his own. "I… Can you tell me what happened to him?"
Briefly, the Lord considered baring the privacies of his past to this crass human woman. It was a very personal experience that he had kept secret for a large part of his centuries-long lifespan, and she had only the most modest right to ask such a thing of him…
…but that right- the right of a bereaved mate- was something even youkai honored.
He inclined his head. "The tale is a long one, best left to a more opportune moment. First the message… and if Kagome does not return, I will begin it."
Her head jerked as if she had been stung. "Kagome! You should go- she'll be back any moment now…"
He needed no further urging; the rank air of this time grated on his senses. "I take my leave," he murmured quickly, snatching up his brother as he passed the door and briskly glided back to the well-house. The miko's scent was strong in that place, ingrained with her recent comings and goings, as well as the scent of her blood long dried into the wood of the ancient structure.
The wind sighed around him as he shut the shoji door; it carried an echo of his name, but he paid it no heed. After all, Kagura's spirit might yet flow on its eternal currents; he often thought she might still guard him, no matter whence he might walk in his journeys through the changing years.
For a heartbeat, he inhaled deeply, storing the miko's scent indelibly into the recesses of his memory; something told him that he might not return to this place for quite some time. After a moment's thought, he gave his half-brother a firm shake. "Memorize the miko's scent," he said shortly, almost commandingly. "If you live this long, you might meet her again when you are ready."
And then he leapt between worlds, and the well slammed shut in his wake.
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She stood at the crest of the many stairs, staring at the improbable sight of an ash-blond man dressed in ancient warlike fashion with armor and weaponry, carrying a bright red bundle over his shoulder, cross her courtyard in swift, graceful strides. Something stirred in her heart, a flickering shadow of recognition behind shrouding veils of magic and steel.
"Sesshou…maru?" Her lips formed the words, but the thought fled as quickly as the gust of wind that snatched her words away, and she was left alone in the empty courtyard, wondering what she had stopped to admire; there was nothing but the familiar shrine and its attached structures stretching before her eyes.
Kagome shook her head, smiling ruefully, and continued walking towards her home. "Springtime must be making me silly..." Her free hand plucked at her new red sweater, stretching the loosely woven material. "I don't even like red…"
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A/N: I guess 20 reviews was a little much to ask, huh. Ah, well. There'll be plenty of chapters yet for me to be for reviews anyway… or is this really as trashy as I think it is?