Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, I'd ask him if he could get me a date with his brother. Sigh. --No. Make that blackmail him into doing it. (devious grin) Hehehe…
I love my readers, and they love Inu and Sesshy. Squea! Thanks for all the reviews! (Pounces on everyone) They make me want to update sooner. Problem was this chapter was a pickle to write! And I'm not a pickle person, if you know what I mean… So sorry for the wait!
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Chapter 12: Empty Thoughts
He rested his claws on the transparent glass, nails clicking on the surface as he lowered his head gravely. The Tai-youkai stared blankly at the sea of stars underneath, each light exploding like fireworks as the rain chiseled down on them.
The sky seemed to have grown twice in size in that five hundred year life span, releasing a rainbow of colored specks onto the ground and onto his face. Stars were rarely seen near the moon anymore in this place called 'city'. At times the white orb was the only thing left to see; admire.
He always did enjoy the moon; he saw that now. Quiet, majestic, and solitary. Like Sesshomaru. A grand sphere between many small speckles in the dark, shining like none other and with the help of no one.
This Sesshomaru.
He found himself thinking again; thinking was the only thing he ever did. But lately he'd been caught within its pain and hurting.
Life, it seemed, was no more. He wasn't Sesshomaru, anymore. Not in the way he knew himself, at least.
He was no longer that stoic, proud, confident and fearless leader he had once seen himself as.
He felt weak and lost. So lost.
There were all these uncertain 'things' pricking at his skin all the time now, dragging him into even deeper thoughts, deeper solitude, deeper annoyance.
He was feeling.
Feeling.
Sure he'd felt before, but never this much, uncontrollably.
He'd trained himself for hundreds of years to hide all these bothersome attributes, to suppress them, and had come so far as to shut them off completely. But they came back, proof of being with humans for far too long, haunting him every night. Especially at night, when all was silent and everyone else seemed to sleep in peace. But not him. He was caught in these alien thoughts, alone now, the last demon on earth.
Alone. The word stood out like mad. He felt alone. But why was it so hard to accept? The word was new to his experience, but it had found a way to take over his mind.
'Alone'...
The rain fell effortlessly against his clouded face, searching for answers. He'd never felt that way before. It was disturbing.
Suddenly, unsettling images ran through his head like echoes of voices, confusing him even more with their unfamiliarity. Life, death, reason, meaning…It wasn't that word anymore troubling him now-- there were many, popping up like irritating weeds in a field. It felt like there was more than one of him in the same body. And he didn't know what he thought of half the time, for everything was tossed inside him all at once, jumbled up, like an inescapable recurring nightmare. That's why he often found himself staring at the outside, just so to break away from his inside ache.
The rain kept pouring down in front of him. Like wetness… The fallen lord felt his soft cheek.
Last night he'd found wetness in his eyes, and he feared he knew what they were.
He'd seen his mother cry once-- and only then was she female. Not the son of the greatest demon on earth, not the heir of a vast stretch of land, not the half brother of all he abominated. Not the strong, untamed beast that he was to all those who opposed him; not the fierce opponent to all his enemies. Not the wreck he found himself in, now. She had a right to shed her sorrow, not him. He stood for too much. And he had brought himself up to not be a 'weakling', as he saw it.
He blinked. But he wasn't crying, he told himself—just infuriated, that's all. He never cried; he couldn't. Physically, he really couldn't.
Growling, he punched harmlessly at the other Sesshomaru in the glass, who was laughing in his face. His worried eyes flickered with the external light. Rage, anger, ridicule, defeat, weakness, torn, anxiety, fear, uncertainty, cold, lost…
He was feeling, damn it! To hell with all of it! He wanted to kill something, anything, if only to make it all go away!
Why couldn't he just die! Why couldn't he just be left alone! He had no business with the Jewel, so why was he taken into this mess!
…Damn it all!
He'd never been so caught up in such a feeling fury and knew he was beginning to lose it. He wasn't prepared for something of the sort.
He found his growling intensifying every passing day because of it, while his silent bellows raged on in hate. Hate of everything.
Rain started to fall like mad in the outside world, aiming at his window. Thunder claps hit. He found that his tense demeanor couldn't take it anymore. Clenching his fangs he let his shoulders relax involuntarily and let down his breathing no longer a huff, his heart beat still pumping loudly in his chest as he searched to control himself.
So torn…So… weak… He closed his sore, worried eyes. Damn it.
…And the wetness came back.
…The horrid feeling in his stomach came back, too.
So dishonoring…
He withdrew from his reflection and walked silently toward her room; only she could take this away; make this wetness go away before it actually became something else, other than fury.
He tested her name, repeating it in his mind. Rin.
That seemed like the most beautiful name in the world right now. Rin.
Standing outside her door he was inwardly grateful for the girls' sense of security around him and his brother lately. In the beginning they'd slept together in Kagome's room, locking the door and shoving hundreds of furniture in front of it as if to have a fort to protect them at night from the demons. Now they were comfortable enough to sleep in their respective rooms, going so far as to leave the doors unlocked. Yes, he was grateful for that-- because that was where he could feel sane again, being in her room at night.
He opened her door as silently as he could, peering inside to find her asleep, to his pleasure. He'd close the door again behind him, but it would make too much noise and might wake her up—not like the screen doors back in his time. He saw their purpose, now. They wouldn't disturb her in her sleep like these noisy ones would.
Looking around he found so many colored flowers in the room; on the walls, on the counters, on her bed, which would have disturbed him some other time. Flowers were meaningless to him, especially since he followed the path of supreme conquest. Strength was what he needed. Not these frail, thin, insignificant patches of green that wilted away so easily when stepped on.
But he didn't feel as strong anymore. He didn't feel immortal anymore. And that was what could have disturbed him the most. But what he did fear the most was what would be his next move; he had strategically decided all his future play outs in the past, like a true warrior should, but now he was tossed in a spiral of ifs, ands and buts. He couldn't plan ahead in this strange, new era that was so alien to him. He was left with uncertainty now, and he hated uncertainty.
He'd reasoned there was probably no way of getting back to all that he knew, and if there was, time lines and lives would be changed, different, if not only his than the whole world's as result from playing with time itself. He wasn't stupid. He knew the implication of it all. Not like he cared for it, but there was no guarantee that the Jewel could even bring him back. So why struggle in even greater misery than he found himself in now, trying to find a way? The internal fight ate him alive.
He growled silently again, clenching a fist.
…Most importantly, why go back, if he'd been humiliated like none other by that wretched 'Naraku'? If he'd have another chance, he'd kill him ten times over. But that would mean nothing anymore. He had been defeated in battle already. No one could take that back. He was a fallen warrior, and it killed his pride. For the first time ever, he felt worthless because of it. The shame.
His wild thoughts ceased as he stopped just close enough to be near the girl's face. He observed her intently.
She seemed so at peace there, oblivious to what was going through his troubled, aching mind; the worry that kept him restless; the new feeling of sorrow that plagued him to no end.
And slowly, subconsciously, her rhythmic breathing lulled him motherly. His breathing slowed, and his eyes softened from their usual coldness.
Flowers. They seemed to suit her, he thought for a moment again, but in a more soothing way. He decided he didn't mind flowers so much anymore, if she liked them so much. They represented her now. Soft, fragile, and humble. Unprotected.
He slid down the wall to sit and watch her face tonight as long as he could, before she awoke. It was the only thing that could keep him from going mad. He stared into her face and only at her face, at times thinking of nothing, other times feeling rather tired himself. But he never knew how and when to let his guard down, so he couldn't sleep. He'd forgotten. Feudal times wouldn't allow it. So he couldn't sleep, because he'd forgotten how to.
And now; now his armor was useless, as were his swords and title. Fighting. Defending. Conquer. Honor. Power. Nothing was left for him here anymore, perhaps if he went back? No. It wouldn't be there if and when he went back. Everything he worked and fought so hard for obtaining was all for nothing; taken away from him. He carried nothing with him, because even physical strength no longer ruled this new world. He had lost everything here and there, Present and Past.
He looked up from the warm, white sheets caressing her skin and traced her resting figure with his sight, eyes glimmering from the window's soft light.
Here laid a sweet child, oblivious to it all. No one could ever know or come to grasp why he hated everything anymore, not even her-- the one he felt that knew him more than anyone now, for some reason. No one would understand, as much as he wanted her to at the moment. It was impossible. Incomprehensible. And he was giving up before he even tried to explain.
Then there was his brother and the miko. He hated to think of it, but he was stuck with them now. All three of them-- those human offspring. Their four scents swam all over the place, driving him insane everyday. There was no doubt he had stayed there for possibly over a year in this 'house', the way all four scents intertwined with one another. If it were that way, than it meant he had been...pleased, staying there with them. The two humans and the half breed. How uncommon for him. How confusing, destructive.
And yet, he often found himself feeling like one of them. He was now a weak, powerless human, the one being he despised the most. Like a mortal, feeling son-of-a-bastard.
A gust of wind blew against the rain outside and he held his breathe as he watched her stir in her sleep, unaware of his presence. He blinked as she licked her dry lips and yawned softly, turning to her side, her face away from his glare.
Rin.
He'd forgotten why he hated them so much now, those humans, just staring into her face. He wasn't bothered by her presence at all in the house. Perhaps because she smelled of him the most?
Closing his eyes he inhaled slowly, deeply, taking in that heavenly aroma. Her scent was wonderful. Beautiful.
So intoxicating.
He wanted to know why she smelled like him, of him so much. He of her as well.
There were so many reminders of the curse he'd been put through that he could only accept it, grudgingly. He was once 'hers' in a way he couldn't piece together. He had to find out what it all meant.
He was hers…
He smirked slightly. To think of it. A human girl had actually come to tame the Great Lord Sesshomaru. She must be something indeed, to have achieved such a task.
He shifted a bit, the prior phrase ringing in his mind. He frowned. He was hers…
…But what did he have left? What did the lord possess now? Did he not deserve something, too?
She tossed and turned again in her bed, returning to her former position, facing him in her sleep. She moaned softly and opened up a warm smile, as if having a nice thought.
Rin.
…He decided he'd have her. If nothing else, he'd have her. He'd protect whatever he had left, which was slim, and let no one else have it. The thought was almost selfish-- if he'd give a damn what others would think.
He couldn't ignore her scent-- her scent, which seemed so pure and content; so accepted, fusing with his own.
He'd make her his, if only to own something. And it wouldn't be hard at all to agree to; she smelled so nice…
That intoxicating scent of hers was too much for him; like flowers in a field. Wild, exotic, claimed flowers under the moon's full gaze.
The smell was soothing, calming, relaxing, as was she. The great lord closed his eyes tiredly, sleepily.
He would let himself drown in it for a while.
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The rain resounded in his demonic ears, leaving no space for reasonable thought. But he liked it that way. The delusion was giving.
Inuyasha thought and thought, but couldn't get it off his mind. The resemblance was uncanny. Frightening, even.
He stared passionately into her eyes, hidden behind tender, closed lids that reminded him of another's so much.
She looked heavenly sleeping here in front of him, his precious miko. But she wasn't really here, and yet she was all the same. She was here. She wasn't here. She was here.
No; she was both.
He suffered under this turmoil.
You live. No, you died… You live.
He growled frustrated, shaking his head violently but tenderly as his bangs brushed against the girl's forehead.
No, you're dead! And it's all my fault. She couldn't be alive; she was only human. She couldn't live this long. It would be impossible for her to still live on, now, where he was. She was gone. This was her twin.
Why did it have to be this way, damn it! Why was she gone? Why did she have to leave? Why did she have to do this!
Kikyo.
It was all his fault. If only he'd been stronger, more powerful like his own father he could have protected her from Naraku, from being controlled by that mad-man. Then she would have not have had to give up her own life so that he could live on instead.
She was gone because of him, and that killed him inside. She could have died the last time he'd seen her, under Naraku's grasp, or she could have died years later as an old, old woman. It didn't matter anymore, because she wasn't alive. She wasn't with him.
And he still loved her.
A tear glistened as it played on the rim of his eye; it streamed from his cheek with a heavy blink. The most forlorn tear he'd shed for the only woman he'd come to love, after his mother. Kikyo. She was dead, and he could do nothing about it. Another woman he loved had left his small world—had left him alone again.
The droplet fell on the linen sheets underneath as he could feel his own, warm breath blowing against the face in front of him, so dangerously close to her lips.
No… they weren't her lips...
…But they could be…
He growled angrily. He kept confusing their faces. Damn it! Why did she have to look so much like Kikyo!
He found himself screaming silently her name.
She stood for everything he had ever wanted, everything he had been deprived from. And she was the one who took it away from him with her selfless act. No; it had been selfish of her. Selfish.
…He hated her now. Why did she have to save him and not herself? Why couldn't she have killed him too back then when all that he treasured was in her? That keeping him alive only hurt him more? Why didn't she save him from this hurting, here without her? Why? Why? Why!
His eyes watered thickly.
"Ki…" His whisper came so frightened, so wanting, so confused.
"Kikyo…" His lips brushed against hers softly as he said those words-- his lost, demanding words on her warm, familiar lips. Why could she be gone, and be here in front of him all along?
"My Kikyo…" He choked. The words were second nature to him.
He hesitated for a sharp moment to kiss those strange lips-- but a faint, ghostly force tugged him back, telling him it wasn't Kikyo here with him, it wasn't his lovely Kikyo.
He realized as his heart broke that it was this 'Kagome' laying in bed, asleep, as he watched on, his body shattering into pieces. Kagome. Not Kikyo. Only Kagome.
He grabbed a hold of himself tight with fury, trying to resist this aching feeling in his stomach that wouldn't go away. His mind was playing tricks on him. Hellish tricks. And he was afraid the woman in front of him would wake up and take him away from this delusion. It wasn't real, but it wasn't unreal. He wanted to keep it that way, perhaps forever, never waking up from seeing his lover's ghost in form. It was what she had left him with to remember her of.
He gritted his teeth. Reality hadn't been kind to him.
He closed his damp eyes and sat in a fetal position in his seat. He was alone again because he didn't have his treasure anymore. All that was left was Kagome. Kagome. It haunted his mind. The Jewel was nothing but a distant memory to him now, and he didn't want it anymore if his love wasn't here with him. He realized it with a stifled cry.
She was his life, the life that had been dead whenever a demon scoffed at him for being of human blood, whenever a human threatened him away for being of demon brood. She had been the only one to accept him for who he was; she had made him feel welcomed, a part of someone else's more content memories. And thinking about it, they were so alike in their need to share companionship. He had become aware that she had needed him just as he had needed her. They both were outcasts, in a way; him with his life as a half-breed, her with her duty to protect the jewel by herself, with no life of her own to live by.
But there was no longer an 'us' to contemplate now. There was no longer someone to follow, someone to laugh with, and someone to guide him.
He stood up from his chair, placed it back in its corner and gently returned to the woman's side, wondering close to her sleeping frame. His claws trailed on their own to her soft, silky hairs, running through them like they were the very part of her soul. He'd never really felt Kikyo against his skin like this, and this was all he had left to feel.
Kagome. Even her name was distant. But her smell was enticing all the same. It filled his insides with her aroma, making him feel full. No more empty. At least until he'd have to leave her again.
He'd found her smell to be relaxing; thick and smooth to his liking. Filling.
He enjoyed it that way.
Breathing it once more his hand jerked away and froze as he heard her moan softly, shaking from her deep slumber. Had he waken her? No. No! She couldn't see him like this!
He watched as the girl in front of him yawned, stirring in her sheets. No. She hadn't awakened. But she smiled lightly, most likely having a nice dream. A wonderful dream.
Why couldn't he have one of those right now?
He let go of her and just stood there, staring down at her smile. Just like when he'd seen his old love smile in her sleep, only once. But this wasn't the first time he'd seen Kagome in her rest. Every chance that he could he snuck into her room to watch her sleep. Watch her dream. He himself couldn't join her; not when his youkai sibling was around.
Because then who would protect her? Who would protect the Jewel inside?
…And her wonderful scent?
No. He knew he couldn't, shouldn't lie to himself anymore. He came into her room to be with her, because she reminded him of the other young woman. He came here to torture himself every night for not having been her savior when she had needed him the most. He came here to be drugged to sleep by this new, filling scent.
Naraku wasn't to be blamed for this anymore; he blamed himself in his torment. He had Kagome now and it was all his doing.
The rain began to calm down outside the dark window, bringing silence and solitude to a half man, half beast.
Kagome, he half-smiled, sadly.
He had spent all these days thinking, pondering, and amidst all the confusion in his head, he had come to a firm conclusion.
This new miko wasn't only the next Jewel barer, nor was she just a reflection of what was once the former priestess. She was Kagome. A female human of this new world, new era. She was everything opposite of what he'd found in the other her, her previous twin, and yet she was everything that Kikyo was, if not in body, but in her fighting spirit. He didn't know what centuries could bring of change on this earth, but he knew that this one wouldn't leave him alone to find them out. She would stay by him, just like the other her had done so long ago. There would be an 'us' again, even if it wasn't even faintly remote to what the same word had represented before.
Kagome…Each night he'd come just a bit closer to her, trying to figure just what it was he wanted or expected of her, and he'd found out what it was.
She would be his company now. That's all he'd ever wanted from someone—anyone at all. And she had already welcomed him into her home, perhaps even into her heart.
His ear twitched.
Kagome. The more it was said, the more it felt relative to him. She was his human that needed to be protected, taken care of. She was a reincarnation of his feelings for someone else; not his woman, rebirth—because this one was a whole different, fiery spirit that tested his own.
He smirked at that. He enjoyed the competition.
Kagome. Someone else to come to care for and…love.
He closed his eyes slowly for a quick rest.
He'd like that name now…
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Both siblings, each in their own female's rooms, mused what all these conflicting emotions could mean. One ripped away from his quiet, powerful domain, the other torn from everything he loathed except from the one thing he found he had come to care for.
For one, there was everything to come back to, even though there might be nothing left if he did come back; to the other there was nothing he could come back to, only to the sole being he cherished from between all that hated him, most likely dead if he ever returned to claim it once more.
The energy-draining thoughts were overwhelming in the seemingly untroubled times of this new era of silence, where they noticed they had more time to think, more time to reflect on what their lives were or meant anymore…
And time had more time to make them miserable to no ends. All they could do now was forget about a dead past.
…But why was it so damn hard to?
These amazingly strong women, so unlike those they'd encountered in the feudal wars, were the only clue as to what they would do with whatever was left of their destroyed lives.
They were prisoners here, knowing regrettably that there was nothing waiting for them back 'home'-- that there was nothing to return to.
They could only live with what they had-- even if it wasn't fit for a lord or a misfit. Even if they didn't want it. Even if they knew they didn't deserve it.
Outside the rain clashed harder, banged louder against the windows, leaving them alone with their curse after the curse...
Their empty thoughts.
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Just in case I wasn't clear enough (sweat drop): Sesshomaru reflected upon his life and what was left of it, while Inuyasha kept confusing the 'live' Kagome with the 'dead' Kikyo, first thinking them to be the same young woman—then accepting the truth. I wrote it so at times one couldn't distinguish the narrator's words from the men's thoughts.
'What reasons would the brothers have to want to stay with the girls'? Well, now we know. Both were REALLY hard to do, I noticed after a while (cough- last two weeks- cough). And I hope neither sounded too cliché. But I'm most certain I ain't neva' doing this 'inside look into their minds' again! It took me forever! It was the hardest chap to do. (I bet not even Rumiko Takahashi knows what goes inside their heads!—matter of speech, anyway). Hopefully both siblings came out ok. (Crosses fingers) You tell me.
Read and Review. Tell me what you think.