Mocha Latte
-Kitty
Chapter 5: A light in the dark
Dangerous. It was a dangerous habit he was picking up. The white haired figure pulled the tattered coat tighter around his shoulders, a deep grumble vibrating outward from his chest. The jacket had holes almost as big as the one in his gut and the cold, wintry winds blew straight through it, no matter how he huddled. His perch was high above street level, within the empty boughs of a naked maple tree, with only a few fiery red leaves stubbornly clinging to its branches. He was far too exposed and still far too weak to be risking an attack. Yet here he was, sitting grouchily against the thick trunk of the old hibernating tree. His eyes were a pair of glowing, yellow embers peering down through skeletal branches. Down toward a warmly flickering light that perched delicately on a very particular window sill.
He'd come back every damn day since leaving, drawn back to her apartment like a moth to a flame. The first time time, the sharp, distinct scent of a heavily spiced, savory meal almost tore him apart as his stomach twisted upon itself. It was a lot of work to recover from a puncture wound that went straight through his torso, particularly one with a very generous dose of poison, and his body complained loudly at his lack of care. He sniffed sharply and continued to grumble while his eyes never left the wobbly candlelight that sat alluringly in the window.
The second night, just as dusk lay down its heavy blanket over the quiet neighborhood, he found to both his annoyance and inexplicable joy, she'd been expecting him. A paper bag sat in the planters outside the window, and even in the dimming light, his sharp eyes could make out the wispy rise of steam emerging from the hot meal. The nights were growing colder and he couldn't deny the gargantuan urge he felt to steal over that window, balance ever so carefully on the tree branch beside the building and lift up the offering for his stomach to rejoice over. His appetite nearly took hold of his mind and it was the sudden shock of a flock of birds startled into flight that broke his concentration. He recoiled his arm quickly, staring down at it with an accusatory frown for betraying him so. He'd retreated soon after, leaping away from roof to tree top, just another shadow among many in the encroaching night.
Tonight's offering was a fold of cloth, puffy and warm looking, carefully weighed down by a thermos mug that no doubt contained something hot and delicious. This time, his stomach growled louder than his throat and he flashed his fangs in annoyance, tilting his head to glare down at the uncooperative organ. This nightly habit was becoming far, far to dangerous, for his own body to betray his position like this. The shadowy figure in the tree was briefly stayed in his departure by the tinkle of laughter that cascaded out of that brightly flickering window that died down then swelled again in a full bellied laugh. The shadow with white hair and a tattered coat grit his teeth and clenched down with all his strength, forcing down the powerful urge to approach the warm, beckoning light. Then, he turned, resolutely refusing to look over his shoulder, and launched himself up into the darkness of the evening sky.
The corner in which he would spend the night was not far away. Only a few blocks down and another street over, but it took him several more hours before settling down in this small patch. He circled that small, little, cluttered apartment several times, gradually increasing his radius, either eliminating the small vermin or noting the changes in his scouting range. A neighbor was now locking their garbage bins, and there was a new family of racoons in the hollow knot of the nearby oak tree. One or two rat demons that wandered too close for comfort that were giving the local cat population a challenge and a particularly fat feline that for some reason greeted him each night during his rounds. By the time he'd finally arrived at his little scratched out nook, the moon was high overhead and he pressed his back heavily against the hard cement wall. The corner wasn't much, just a small, noticeably garbage free joining of three planes with three marks that betrayed his position as he rested for the night. The golden eyed, white haired figure placed a dirty, bare foot on one of the smudges, almost unconsciously assuming his one knee down, one knee up sleeping posture, the pads of his feet and the seat of his pants rubbing off the dust from the cold, dirty ground and gradually warming the longer he maintain contact.
Cold seeped in quickly where he made contact with the hard walls. Still, it was better to be out of the wind and out of sight. It was unusual for him to return to the same nighttime patch several nights in a row. But somehow, in this particular corner of the city, it felt secure, safe somehow, as though someone's watchful eye carefully guarded this space. He sat there a long time, the goosebumps along his arms and legs were tight and he shivered. He closed his golden eyes and recalled the light in the shadows, bobbing and flickering, like the fragile thing it was, yet steady, and constant, waivering but stubbornly holding on, shining bravely in the darkness. It was hard to describe this thing he felt, seeing that small flame of hope fighting off the blackness of the night. A strange sort of swelling in his chest, that made him worry briefly that something was wrong with his body. As though perhaps, the poison the demon slayer had was still in him, sweeping through his veins and making his heart feel many times too large for his chest. But then, alone in that cold, hard corner, a clawed hand would reach up to feel his own heartbeat, confirm for himself that he was alive, and then his mind would slowly give way to memory. The warm, yellow glow of candlelight that bathed a slender figure dressed in oversized garb. She'd approach him, her hands filled with steaming containers and he'd smell it. Dark and sweet, cutting through the chill and the bitterness and the taste would run along his tongue as though truly holding it in his mouth. His body tingled to remember the sensation. The warm, heavy taste of chocolate.
A/N: let's just pretend that dog demons can have chocolate. Or that Inuyasha's half human side can handle it… yeah...
