Chapter Eleven: Family
Hand propping up her heavy cheek, Kagome stared absently at the haze of words on her tablet screen. In her other hand, she held a pencil loosely, but the only writing it had done in the last hour were accidental scrawls when the tip touched the paper. After a long while, she lifted her eyes to her bedroom window and out to the lamplit courtyard of the family shrine below. Her attention hovered there as she waited for her vision to adjust. Her desk lamp was dimmed all the way down, but it still took some time. But soon, she could make out the familiar contours of every shadow. As she scanned the area, she realized that she wasn't really looking at the courtyard, but for a sign of change. For a shape that wasn't there the last time she looked. But everything looked the same.
With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and her tired eyes fell on the cool cup of green tea next to her notebook. What had become her nightly routine, a few hours ago she had trekked down to the kitchen to heat up a kettle of water to brew a cup of tea. It was an excuse really, one that turned into a habit. With Sesshoumaru disappearing every evening, it was her way of checking to see if he had returned home. She thought it pretty clever at first, but in a family this tight knit, there was no such thing as a subtle ruse. Mama's teasing had been the most merciless.
But they should be worried too, shouldn't they?
Her lips pursed into a frown. It was well after midnight, and the house was pitch black except for her desk lamp. Their summertime adventure seemed like it was just yesterday, but in that time the daiyoukai had become almost family. There was something old-fashioned about him that made Grandpa feel young. The way he looked after Souta gave the boy the big brother he hadn't realized he needed. Even Mama seemed happier, nearly indomitable as she tried to pry the types of food he enjoyed out of him.
She sighed. For her, it was having a link. Something to reassure her that the world on the other side of the Bone-Eater Well had been real.
Her thoughts lingered on the Sengoku Jidai. Was this what it had been like for them every time she disappeared down the well? For days and sometimes weeks at a time? She hadn't really thought about it before, but they must have worried about her. It wasn't like she was away on a school trip to the hot springs. Her quest for the Shikon-no-Tama had been profoundly dangerous. How many nights had they stayed up wondering if they should have stopped her? Wondering if they were foolish for entrusting her safety to a crude hanyou in firerat fur? Did they sleep this easily tonight because they had already gone through what she was going through now?
She leaned forward again, her eyes settling on the courtyard and the inky shadows. A yawn snuck up on her, and her vision blurred from the tears. Perhaps it was time for her to stop worrying too.
By the steps that rose from the street to the courtyard, a strange shadow grew and shifted.
At first, she thought her exhaustion was getting the better of her. Closing her eyes, she tried to rub the bleariness from them. But when she blinked them open, the lilting shadow remained, creeping towards the front of the house. Her weariness evaporated. It looked like two people. Like a couple of friends, locked shoulder-to-shoulder as they stumbled home from the bar. Something dark smeared the ground behind them, and a tight feeling of dread gripped her chest.
Before she realized it, she was thumping down the stairs as she sprinted for the front door.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Grandpa, move the table and clear the floor!" a voice shouted, so loud that it was scarcely muffled by the walls of Souta's bedroom. "Mama, get the big first aid kit from the cabinet!"
Racing feet padded down the hallway.
Souta sat up in his bed. His mind still foggy from sleep, he looked around at the muted colors of the posters pinned to his gray walls. Reaching out, he fumbled for the cellphone on the nightstand. The screen lit up at his touch, the background showing a candid photo his mother took of him and Sesshoumaru while they were building his workbench a few weeks ago. The time read 1:23am.
"Hey, you! Leather jacket guy!" the voice barked. His mind started to clear. It sounded like it came from the living room. Was it Kagome? "Bring him over here. We'll lay him down slowly on three, okay? One… Two… Three…"
There was the sound of grunting, and he was suddenly reminded of picking up planks of lumber that needed to be carried to the workshop. He had tried to balance them on his shoulder like the daiyoukai he trailed, but they were so heavy. His skin flushed red as he struggled. Ahead, Sesshoumaru looked back at him over his unladen shoulder, his expression inscrutable. He walked back. Embarrassment flared inside Souta and his cheeks turned darker. With one hand, Sesshoumaru took the pieces of wood away. Souta looked down, frustrated but silent. Then he felt the weight of the wood on his shoulder again. Sesshoumaru carefully stacked the planks so that they were balanced. When done, he gave him a nod, and Souta reached up to grasp the wood, surprised by how much easier it was to carry. Sesshoumaru turned away, and Souta watched for a moment. He stared at his broad back and strong arms. His easy and unhurried stride. He was larger than life. His idol.
"God, there's so much blood," Kagome gasped. "Mama, do you have the first aid kit?!"
"Right here," she shouted, her voice coming from down the hallway. The sound of footfalls hurried past his room. "How does it look?"
"Bad," she replied. "We need to cut him out of these clothes so I can get a good look, but I think he's been shot."
Fear seized Souta's chest, and he grasped at the lapels of his pajama shirt. Under his fist, he could feel his pulse racing. Someone had been shot? Before he knew it, he was out of his bed and on his feet. But as quick as he had been to stand, he stayed frozen in place, terrified of what was happening outside his bedroom door. He thought of Kagome and her fearless leaps into the enchanted well and of Sesshoumaru and his strong back that had stopped a truck. It was with that feeling that he found his nerve, and he walked toward his door.
OOOOOOOOOO
His disheveled yukata robe tied around his stout frame, Grandpa, watched Kagome quickly but carefully cut through the bloody coat enshrouding Sesshoumaru. Even as she folded away the layers and began cutting through the shirt underneath, he was still stunned. How had this happened? None of it made sense.
With the last of the clothing covering his upper body cut, Kagome peeled the soaked cloth from Sesshoumaru's skin, revealing a blood-smeared mess.
"All right," she said, her tone analytical, "Looks like there are two bullet wounds, one in his chest and another in his abdomen. Mama, help me turn him onto his side so that we can see if they went through or if they're still lodged in his body."
He felt himself step forward, wanting to help, but both women waved him back. Their briefest of smiles meant to reassure him only served to make him feel useless. That all he could do was watch.
"Hmm, looks like the bullets are still in his body," Mama reported, her brow wrinkled, "That's not necessarily bad, is it?"
"Maybe," Kagome wondered aloud, "He was hit by a truck and came away with only a few deep cuts. It's possible that the wounds look worse than they are."
"He was hit by a truck?" a voice asked incredulously. "Like the truck was moving?"
Grandpa looked up from the grizzly scene on the living room floor to the young man by the entryway. Sporting a black and red jacket blotted with more red than its design intended, the kid looked to be in his mid-20s. While his attire was striking, it was the low-swept fohawk dyed bright red capping his head that grabbed the most attention. Grandpa felt himself bristle with anger.
"Who are you? Some kind of delinquent gang member?" he growled.
"Take it easy, gramps," the young man replied, holding out a gloved hand in a placating gesture. "I didn't do anything. I just found him."
"You expect us to believe that?"
"It's the truth, so yeah. You think I'd bring him here if I shot him? I would have finished him off and left his ass in the alley if I did this."
Grandpa glowered at him, visibly shaking.
"Look, I'm not trying to start anything," he apologized, "I respect this guy. He's out trying to do good, and I should have stepped in sooner. Making a difference isn't something you can do on your own."
"He wasn't on his own," Mama said with a small smile as she handed Kagome the forceps from the first aid kit while taking out a small flashlight for herself, "Thank you for saving him and bringing him home…" She paused, searching her memory for a name that hadn't yet been given.
"Tora," he said.
"Thank you, Tora-san."
His tanned cheeks flushed and he sheepishly ran his hand over his tinted hair.
Grandpa scoffed, hardly satisfied. He said that he found him but also that he should have stepped in sooner? This kid was trouble. He knew it. But before he could make his next accusation, a bubbling cry erupted from the far side of the room. In his rumpled pajamas, Souta stood, his face anguished and tears brimming in his eyes.
He was suddenly in motion, weaving his way around the disarray to hug the boy close. Instinctively, he tried to put his body between him and the impromptu operating scene, but he could feel him pulling away, desperately needing to watch.
Kagome used the forceps to pry open the raw flesh around the chest wound and Mama shined the flashlight inside.
"It's not deep," Kagome sighed, "I think his ribcage stopped it."
Deftly, she angled the forceps downward, and after a tense moment, she pulled out a misshapen lump of metal. She let the slug clatter into a forgotten teacup. Fresh blood spilled from the wound, and she swabbed it with gauze. After a few seconds, the bleeding staunched, and she peered down into the wound again to see if any fragments remained.
"How does it look?" Mama asked, leaning in above her head.
"I don't see any other pieces," she replied, "We're lucky it wasn't a hollow-point or a shotgun shell." Then she smirked and shook her head. "I couldn't feel it before, but it's there now."
"What's there?"
"His youki." She let her hand hover over the injury and the wisps of aura tickled her palm. "It's starting to heal the wound." Then her other hand reached out above the injury in his abdomen. "Youki there, but no youki here. Explains why his cuts from the truck accident were worse when pieces of metal or glass were still stuck in them. Also, might explain why youkai preferred dealing with swords over arrows."
"Then we better get the one out of his stomach and hope it's in one piece."
She nodded, and they both sidled down to his abdomen.
"Is he going to be okay, Grandpa?" a small voice asked, tugging at his attention.
"Of-Of course, he is," Grandpa stuttered, but when he looked into Souta's worried eyes, still puffy from crying, he realized what a poor answer that was. "Come here," he soothed, pulling him close in a tight hug, "He didn't live for all those years as a youkai lord not to mention sealed to a rock just to die from a couple of bullets. I'm sure he's had much worse injuries. Like losing an arm or something. And he still made it out all right." He kissed him on his temple. "He's tough. Just like you. Just like all us Higurashis. You'll see."
OOOOOOOOOO
Mama leaned back, grateful for the support of the cool plaster wall behind her. Her legs folded under her, she was seated on the floor, Souta's head in her lap and his body snug under a fleece blanket. It was everything she could do to get Kagome to finally go to bed, but there had been no persuading her son. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she couldn't stifle the hundredth yawn that had escaped her since she sat down. Across from her and under the soft glow of Souta's old nightlights, lay Sesshoumaru on his futon. He hadn't thought much of mattresses, though since he preferred extra padding under his bedding, she suspected he must have slept on something soft in his past life. Through half-open eyes, she watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, reassured by it. And then entranced by it as its steadiness started rocking her to sleep.
She almost missed his eyes blinking open.
"Higurashi-san," he spoke up, his usually smooth voice carried a slight rasp.
"You're awake," she murmured quietly and let out another yawn. "We were worried."
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought she saw the briefest hint of shame pass over his enigmatic face. She felt a smile on her lips. He would make a fantastic poker player, but maybe not against her.
"It's cold now, but there's a bowl of liver and rice beside you. I would heat it up, but…" She sighed and her eyes cast down to the boy snuggled against her. "It's the hardest thing to move a child once they've fallen asleep on you."
He nodded knowingly, and then with the barest wince, sat up. Tenderly, he slipped his fingers under his thin robe, finding the bandages wrapping his chest and stomach.
"They're healing fast," she said as she watched him gently prod each injury, "But you were in a bad way until we got the bullets out. Especially the one in your abdomen. It had gone pretty deep with no bone to stop it."
He nodded again and withdrew his hand. For a long moment, they sat together in silence. Then he reached for the bowl heaped with meat and a bit of rice. Soon he was gracefully chewing, and she thought she could see what little color he had start to return to his cheeks.
He wasn't looking at anything in particular as he ate, but his gold eyes came into sharp focus when she picked up the mask that had been laying just out of his line of sight. Ignoring him, she regarded the white mask thoughtfully. It was rather beautiful. Carved from a single block of wood, it reminded her of the animal masks popular during festivals. With blockier proportions than a kitsune, it resembled something closer to a dog. On each cheek were two magenta stripes and on the forehead was a navy-blue crescent moon.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing this right," she said, too loud to be talking just to herself, "Being a mother. Even with my father around, it's hard being a single parent. Especially now that he's reached an age where I have to watch over him too. If it were only that, perhaps it would be simpler, but then my daughter fell down a well that transported her back in time."
Sesshoumaru continued to watch her, his expression blank.
"What mother ever expects that her child will turn out to be a reincarnated priestess whose mission is to reclaim a jewel with godlike power in Feudal Japan? To realize that her child's role is so important that if that mother tries to keep her home and safe, she might change history, and so the future, for the worse? I don't know how many nights I stayed up late possessed by dread over my decision to be complicit if not supportive.
"But every few days, sometimes weeks, she would come home safely and remind me that she was still my teenage daughter." She chuckled softly and her eyes sparkled when she looked him in the eyes. "Usually she was upset with your brother over some dumb thing he did."
He snorted.
Her face sobered. "But, today was the first time since their father passed away that someone in our family didn't come home safe and sound." She set the mask down, her eyes never leaving his. "Whether you realize it or not, you are a part of our family. You have someplace you belong. And I can see it in your nature that you have an overwhelming need to protect that place. But remember that you are not alone. We are here for you whatever your new purpose in life becomes."
Their eyes remained transfixed on each other and a long silence followed. Then, something behind his eyes changed, and he gave her a nod.
"Good," she replied back, "Because your clothes are in tatters, and I'm not entirely sure you're handy at sewing. Did aristocratic male youkai youth learn how to sew back then?"
He regarded her coolly as he took another bite of liver.
"I'm pretty sure that if I found a Bikini Girl's Guide to Basic Sewing, you'd probably pick it up."
He didn't dispute her.
A/N: It's been a while everyone. This story has always sat in the back of my mind, patiently waiting to be finished. And it deserves just that.