Corona
By: The Hatter Theory
Chapter 3: Liberate
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Inu Yasha and Co, Signum or their music, nor Percival Lowell's book Occult Japan.
Kagome found any excuse she could to be outside that morning. Already doubting the wisdom of her decision, she took her time sweeping the shrine steps so she could catch her guest and warn him not to mention anything having to do with the tessen or fire around her mother.
She also worried about Kujaku finding out. Not that the pyro came near her house anymore, not since her mother had forbidden contact between the two. But her friend's warning rang in her head, and she wondered what could have driven the normally cheerful, if somewhat gruff, woman to dislike the man so much.
She was halfway done with the steps when she saw him walking up the sidewalk, and she rushed down, so intent on warning him that she her feet tangled in the broom she was holding. Anticipating not only the sudden solid landing, but also looking up to his smirk, she was surprised when she opened her eyes to blinding white. Blinking once, she pulled back and realized she'd fallen face first into his chest.
"How is it you didn't set yourself on fire when you can barely walk?" He sighed as she pulled back, her face red hot with mortification.
"I'm sorry, it was actually because of that that I rushed. I mean, please don't mention that to my mother. She doesn't approve of me doing anything like that. She just thinks you're a study partner."
His light hazel eyes narrowed as he stared her down, and for a moment she was afraid he would turn and leave. Maybe he thought her childish for lying to her mother, or refused to help her lie, or just thought it was too much trouble. Instead, he gave a one shouldered shrug.
"Martial arts are a form of study. It will not be a lie."
Releasing a held breath, she smiled and nodded thankfully. "Thanks for not telling."
He shrugged indifferently and began walking up the stairs. Wondering if his main methods of communication were grunts and glares, she held back a groan, feeling more and more foolish for even thinking it was a good idea. She picked up the broom and followed, searching for the most polite way to tell him that her mother was going to be civil to him, which was nothing like nice, or even polite. Before she could however, they were at the top of the steps, and her mother was waiting, eyes wide.
"Mama, this is Sesshoumaru Kukishin, the study partner I told you about," She offered, nervous tension making her want to throw up. Her mother's dark brown eyes flicked from Sesshoumaru's face to the shirt sleeve that ended an inch before the limb did.
"Hello, Sesshoumaru-san, it's very nice to meet you," Nodoka said with a smile, and Kagome was surprised to see that it was genuine and not forced. "Kagome said you both met yesterday?"
"Yes ma'am," He replied calmly, although his voice held an edge. Kagome briefly imagined pushing him down the stairs they had just climbed up.
"That's nice. I'm preparing lunch. I'll leave you two to your studies," Her mother finished, turning and walking back towards the house. Sesshoumaru began following, but stopped when he noticed Kagome hadn't joined him.
"Are you coming?" He demanded, slightly amused by her pole axed expression.
"Mom's never like that when a boy comes over, not unless it's one of Souta's friends," She confessed, still confused by her mother's warm reception of the male.
"I'm not a potential hazard to your chastity," He answered plainly. Kagome immediately looked offended.
"What, am I not good enough?" She demanded hotly.
Sesshoumaru paused, wondering if she was just trying to make him feel better out of pity, as others had. But when her expression didn't change, he smirked smugly.
"This Sesshoumaru is a beautiful specimen," He mocked.
"You're a jerk," Kagome muttered, stalking past him and towards her home. Following, he shook his head, amazed that she hadn't caught on to his sarcasm. He knew she was aware of his arm, had been one of the few to apologize for staring at it, which implied she was far more honest than most. Surely it occurred to her that her mother couldn't imagine her daughter being attracted to him, no matter how flawless he was otherwise. No one could be that oblivious.
Choosing to ignore the question in lieu of dealing with the study session, he continued smirking as she held the door open for him. Still sulking slightly, she said nothing while he looked around the house, slightly surprised by what he saw.
Their university was not cheap, and boasted only the best and brightest. The only reason he was still able to attend was his father's generosity, such as it was. The house didn't reek of money, or even luxury. It was simple. Kagome led him into a dining room which already had a stack of papers and books on it.
He folded his legs beneath him and opened his bag, pulling his laptop out and setting it gently on the surface. The book followed, and he noticed Kagome watching with thinly veiled curiosity. Quirking his brow, she noticed him noticing her and blushed hotly before averting her eyes.
"Where did you want to start?" He finally asked, breaking the tense silence.
"She wants us to either argue or agree. I'm still not sure which one I'm going with," She admitted.
"You have problems defending your culture?" He demanded incredulously.
"Half my culture. My father was English, although they're hardly better," She sighed. "I can understand the point the she was trying to make, but I feel like the author connected the wrong dots somehow."
"He's saying that because our mythology states we came from the gods, we think we're a superior race," Sesshoumaru snorted. "Leading us to embroil ourselves in wars we are destined to lose. He makes us out to be little better than the nazis."
"We were their allies," Kagome pointed out. "But that's besides the point. Every country believes themselves superior."
"But only we claim to be descended from gods."
"Untrue," She argued. "Plenty of people believe that all over the world. And if they don't believe they're descendents, then they believe they were made in his image, which is almost the same thing. Every religion believes itself superior, and since religion is such a huge influence over people, it bleeds into their politics and patriotism."
Sesshoumaru considered her words, nodding carefully.
"I think Japan has a beautiful, vivid history and a rich culture that involves these myths. Do I think that our mentality has been influenced them? No, I think the stories have changed with the times just like we have. What we find in them is different, just as it was fifty years ago and a hundred. I think it's what makes the difference."
Her point was a valid one, and he grasped it immediately, surprised by the unique perspective. It was an angle he had not considered. Admitting part of it was his own defensiveness from the seeming attack his professor had heaped on his culture and country, he relaxed and listened to the onna speaking, every once in awhile her pen scratching over paper as she wrote something down.
She had an agile mind, one that had no trouble making intuitive leaps and finding ways to create a solid bridge between two points, and the more she talked the more he was drawn in. Designating himself her devil's advocate, he pointed out holes in her theory, and she would pause each time and consider his words. Even more telling, he could see her weighing her own words carefully before answering.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Nodoka said, poking her head into the dining room with a smile.
"No, it's fine mom," Kagome said, not even looking up from what she was writing. Sesshoumaru saw Nodoka smiling as she took in the sight of her daughter working so hard and only nodded when she turned to him.
"I've made curry, I hope that's alright," The older woman announced as she sat down two plates. "I've got some dango steaming as well for dessert."
"Thanks mom," Kagome said, eyes still on her paper and hand reaching for her fork absentmindedly. Sesshoumaru was surprised her mother didn't seem bothered by her daughter's rudeness. Inexplicably, she actually seemed happy with it.
"Your mother is strange," He commented once the woman was gone. His own father would never had accepted such disrespect so blithely.
"She's just happy I'm studying instead of-" She stopped, and immediately he could see her expression darken. "Anyway, I'm studying."
Nodding, beginning to get a better picture of the young woman, he ate his curry and rice and listened as she talked. Sometimes she would speak with food in her mouth -a habit he detested in all people-, although she at least had the presence of mind to cover her mouth when she did, for which he was grateful. Instead of answering, he contented himself with listening and enjoying the curry. The last time he had enjoyed food prepared at home had been before he'd been cut off. No matter what else he got from his mother, Inu Yasha had not inherited her cooking skills. And he had never learned to work a stove. Inu Yasha ate ramen constantly, and he contented himself with eating out or simple steamed meals from a rice cooker.
Once he was finished, he continued listening, finding himself won over to her point of view. Briefly he considered rewriting his whole report, then shot the idea down. It would sound too much like her own, and he didn't want to be accused of plagiarism by a professor that stole her lecture almost word for word from a dead author.
Nodoka only interrupted twice more, once to bring in a plate of steamed dumplings which were filled with lotus root, which was a pleasant surprise, and once again to take the empty plates. Both times she seemed content with Kagome's obliviousness and Sesshoumaru's stony silence. They'd been working for the better part of three hours when she rubbed her eyes tiredly. He closed his laptop and cleared his throat. She jerked back as if surprised he was there and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"We have to go to the library. Donner-sensei wants us to have at least three resources," He intoned, brow raised to indicate his subterfuge. Kagome nodded wearily, and he wasn't even sure she realized he was helping her lie to her mother.
"Mom, we've go to go to the library," She called out.
"Alright dear. Just call and let me know if you'll be in late!" Nodoka called from the kitchen.
"I suggest you go grab your props," He advised quietly. For a moment she stared at him, and then the first true smile he'd seen since meeting her spread her lips wide, and her blue eyes widened with excitement. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous, and it startled him enough to keep him from saying anything when she flew from the table and out of the room. He packed up his laptop and book.
"Thank you for helping her, Sesshoumaru-san. She's needed a good, focused study buddy," Nodoka said from the kitchen entrance as he was zipping the bag. He nodded once.
"I am nothing if not focused," He replied, not bothering to welcome her. He could misdirect with the best of them, having learned from both of his parents. But he drew the line at directly lying to the woman. That he would let the onna handle. Nodoka seemed satisfied by his answer and inclined her head slightly before leaving the room. Kagome stumbled in, bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. Her cheeks were red with excitement and she pulled the mess of papers into a stack and slipped them into the book's cover before tucking it all in the crook of her arm.
She had absolutely no head for lying, which begged the question of why she tried. He allowed her to lead him out, smirking as she practically skipped out of the house and down the stone walkway to the steps leading to the street.
"Come on!" She urged impatiently.
"Why do you lie to your mother?" He asked as they began moving down the stairs. When she said nothing, he glanced over to her, surprised by the thoughtful expression on her face.
"I don't like to," She finally admitted. "But there's no way around it for now. Mom got married when she was eighteen and had me almost immediately afterward, so she never even went to college. After my brother was born, my dad was in a car accident and died. He was the one who worked, so when he died there wasn't enough to keep the house. Mom was forced to move back in with grandpa. She doesn't mind it," She added hastily. "She just doesn't want me in that sort of situation, so when I start paying attention to something besides my studies, she reminds me of how hard her life has been."
"You're exaggerating," He accused, wondering if she wasn't just another whining child that was trying to rebel.
"Nope. I'd say you could ask my friends, but I didn't have time for those growing up. Mom had me attending prep schools almost as soon as my dad died. I only recently started making friends at college, and I've been going for two years," She explained, shrugging uncomfortably.
The pressure itself wasn't abnormal to Sesshoumaru, nor was the cause. The extent of it however...If the onna was telling the truth, her mother had essentially inserted a window between her and the rest of the world. She walked side by side to the people in it, but didn't truly interact.
"Kujaku saw me playing with my fans one day, not the ones I have now, just regular fans for dance. Mom taught me, and it was one of the few physical outlets that didn't bother her. But Kujaku said I had potential for dancing. I didn't know it had anything to do with fire, but a few days later she took me to one of the pack's gatherings, and it was pretty much love at first sight."
He continued walking towards a local parking lot and she followed.
"It does not explain why you are lying," He prompted.
"Mom saw how much interest I had and how much time I was devoting to it. Around that time I got a C on one of my papers and she said I was losing focus and hanging out with the wrong crowd. I tried to stay away, but I kept practicing. After awhile I just couldn't help myself. I want to create beauty like they do."
He barely managed to hold in the derisive noise trying to escape. He found little of what the pack or most self labeled pyros did beautiful. Their movements were simple enough, and without the benefit of fire they were even more lackluster. Most were just adrenaline junkies that got their fix from swinging fire around, and the rest were trying to fill a void in their personalities, make themselves more edgy or attractive.
They reached his car in relative silence, and he got in reaching over awkwardly to unlock her door. She slid in easily, not even seeming to notice it's dilapidated state. He remembered the heap she had been riding around in and assumed she was used to riding around in such eyesores.
"Where are we going?" She finally asked.
"There is a park near my home. It will suit our purposes," He told her. She nodded mutely, fingers dancing over her bag nervously.
"So how did you get into burning?" She asked, and he tried not to flinch at her choice of words.
"Little choice. My half brother and I lacked money. We've both trained in different forms of martial arts since childhood. It seemed the easiest way," He answered, skirting the whole truth. Only he and Inu Yasha know the true extent of his father's will, and he intended to keep it that way, no matter how forthcoming the woman in his passenger seat chose to be.
"You have a brother?" She asked, obviously curious. Latching onto the safe topic, he smirked.
"Half. The rude one I was speaking to in front of the library."
"Oh, I thought you guys were related, but I thought you were cousins. Funny. I bumped into both of you in one day. Is he as rude as you?"
"Only when he tries to be charming."
"I shudder to think of you trying to be charming," She murmured, shivering for effect. Despite himself he found her candid honesty refreshing. Much better than women fawning over him or people stumbling over themselves in an attempt to keep from referring to his arm.
"I do not try."
"Let me guess, you succeed," She retorted dryly, rolling her eyes as she did so.
"I have no need to attempt such."
Her expression and silence were enough to make divulging the information worth it. The rest of the car ride was quiet, and the radio was broken, giving only static when she tried to coax something from it. She didn't ask any more questions, and he didn't inquire into her circumstances again, satisfied with her answer.
He was bothered by her mother's repressive tendencies. It was a wonder the girl hadn't rebelled sooner and in a more drastic fashion. Such restrictions on a person would only serve to suffocate them. Japan was filled with psychiatric recovery centers for those who endured those sort of mental and emotional conditions only to fail. He spared a glance for his passenger and allowed himself to be slightly impressed. She had survived high school and two years of college seemingly none worse for the wear. And she was rebelling, so she wasn't a mindless parrot that took in information and repeated it on command.
He forced himself to keep his expectations low. She could very well be dabbling for the danger of it before announcing her chosen academic major at the end of the year with the rest of the second year students.
Kagome slipped out of the car, her bag clutched tightly in her hands. The park was filled with children, and she wondered where she and Sesshoumaru would be practicing. She hoped it was somewhere relatively private. The idea of an audience unnerved her, numbing her fingers. When Sesshoumaru began walking to a relatively flat area of the grass, she followed, apprehension growing.
Why was he really doing this? It was one thing she had avoided asking, too eager to learn more to question motive. But now that the field loomed, anxiety began to eat at her.
"Take out one of your fans," He commanded once he stopped. With trembling fingers she dug through her bag and pulled one of the fans out. He held his hand out and she handed it over reluctantly, watching him inspect it. He snapped it open and turned it, then tossed it in the air, catching it with practiced grace.
"Who made this?"
"A swordsmith."
"His name."
"Totosai. A really nice-"
"Senile fool," Sesshoumaru bit out. Kagome flinched at the condemnation in his tone and guessed he found the work sub par. "He has a singular talent for smithing. It is well made."
"Oh," She mumbled, unsure if he was angry she had gone to Totosai or if he was just being his normal rude self. Before she could ask, he snapped the fan shut and tossed it at her.
"Begin," He commanded, and she stared at him dumbly. What was she supposed to do?
"Just begin moving," He growled, sensing her hesitation.
Her mind blanked, and her routines and tricks deserted her. She began fumbling under his intense gaze, feeling more and more awkward. The use of a single fan was disconcerting enough, but she could also feel his disapproving gaze bearing down on her. He made an impatient noise and the fan fell from her fingers, falling with a heavy thud to the ground. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly to try and clear them.
"Pick it up," He commanded stonily, eyes blank. Kagome bent and picked the fan back up, closing it carefully, as if it would suddenly break.
"Start again."
She snapped open the fan and gasped when it flew from nerveless fingers and into his chest. He didn't even bother to move, but the white of his shirt was smudged with black spots from the remnants of burnt kerosine as the kelvar brushed against him. For several seconds he did nothing, merely stared at her with a mixture of contempt and and disbelief. Then he bent to pick it up and closed it in his fist.
"It is a wonder you haven't set fire to your surroundings," He remarked coolly. Kagome sniffed, feeling more like an idiot than she ever had in front of the pack.
"Get your other fan," He sighed, looking like he wanted to run a hand through his long hair or pinch his nose. Kagome complied, going to her bag and pulling the other fan out. She straightened and was moving to retrieve the other fan from him, hoping he'd let her go back to the more familiar style of two fans.
When he moved into position, his legs spread apart and bending at the knee, she instinctively followed, understanding what he was silently telling her to do. When she had satisfied herself that she was imitating him perfectly, she looked to him.
"Knees further apart and less bent," He intoned, not even looking at her. Flushing slightly, she obeyed his command, then looked at him again.
He snapped the fan in his hand open, and she mimicked him, startled when he shook his head.
"The motion of your wrist is wrong. You risk causing injury," He informed her as he broke position and moved closer to her, closing the fan in his fist. She watched as he snapped it open, the motion so fast she could barely catch it. Sensing her confusion, he closed it and flicked his wrist, opening it once more.
She closed her own fan and tried. And tried. And tried. On the seventh attempt, she got it right. And he made her repeat the motion a dozen more times before moving back into position, fan closed. Relief crashed through her when he didn't correct her posture, and he snapped the fan open and she followed suit. His arm swept in an arc and he turned, then resumed his original pose.
She swept her arm in the wide arc he had, and immediately stopped when he made another disapproving noise.
"What?" She snapped, beginning to lose patience. He swept his arm in a tall arc over his body and brought it back around. She imitated it. He did it again. She repeated the motion.
"Better," He sighed.
"How am I supposed to do it then?" She growled, face red and thighs already burning from the slightly bent angle of her knees. He came over to her and grabbed her arm, moving it in an approximation of his own. The fan was pressed between his palm and her forearm, pinching the flesh and leaving dark, sooty smudges near her wrist. The touch was strangely invasive, making her heart stumble for a moment.
"Like this," He said sternly, bringing her back to the present. Flustered, she allowed her arm to be moved again and again. After half a dozen times, he moved back and nodded. She started in the original position and opened her fan open, then swept her arm in a tall arc as she turned.
"Your legwork is sloppy," He commented in an offhand manner.
"Well excuse me!" She finally snapped angrily. "Not everyone is the reincarnation of a feudal overlord!"
"I would hardly have settled for overlord," He scoffed haughtily, wishing he could cross his arms.
"Fine, you were a prince, oh mighty one," She bit out, trying the spin again and still coming up short.
"You're moving too wildly. You have to control your movements."
"I'm not trying to be a meek little dancer," Kagome shot out as she tried turning again.
"You will learn how to move within the confines of the kata, and then you may do as you please. But right now you are graceless, clumsy, and uninspired," He barked, aiming for the points he hoped would shock her into obedience. Instead, she stopped and stared at him angrily, then walked forward and snatched her fan from his hand before grabbing her bag and walking away. As she stuffed the fans into the bag he could hear her cursing darkly, the noise loud enough to carry over the yelling of playing children in the background.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considered his neighborhood. Not the best or safest by any stretch of the imagination. No matter how much she might deserve a good scare, she didn't deserve any of the other things that could easily happen to her if she took off on her own.
"Wait," He called out, and she paused, turning to look at him. Fury still made her blue eyes dark and he began walking towards her, gauging the time from the sun.
"We'll go to my apartment. I have some books that will help," He bit out. Immediately her fury turned to suspicion and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.
"Why are you doing this?" She finally asked, back still ramrod straight and hand clenched on the bag in her hands.
"Because I'm bored," He admitted.
"So I should listen to you be a complete jerk because you're bored?" She demanded flatly, anger building back up.
"Because I can teach you. I am not nice, nor will I ever be. It is up to you to decide what is worth enduring to get what you want."
His words stopped her, and tense shoulders slumped.
"Fine," She sighed, shrugging. He didn't even acknowledge her acceptance, choosing to walk past her towards his car. Hearing her follow, he felt slightly encouraged. Sloppiness aside, she had potential, and she proved to be a quick study. If he could get her to find the grace in the movements she considered confining, she would probably be able to put on a good show of fighting against a sword in no time at all.
She plopped noisily into the passenger seat and slammed the door, then crossed her arms, ire still leaking out in small ways. It didn't bother him, he was used to such displays from the others he worked with, and he was sure if she agreed to work with him -and he knew she would, he was sure of it- there would be other such outbursts.
The drive to his apartment was short, and when they parked, he tried not to feel self conscious about the state of the building itself. She said nothing as he passed the elevator and began walking up the stairs. He had never brought anyone of his choosing to the apartment itself, it had always been Inu Yasha, and even then it was only those within the troupe. Not to mention the others homes weren't much better, so there was little to feel self conscious about.
But Kagome was from a good part of town, and he took her silence for quiet politeness. It would be rude to stare or comment on his surroundings.
"What floor do you live on?" She finally asked.
"The eighth," He replied.
"Good exercise," She commented dryly as they continued climbing. He said nothing, wondering if she was already longing for the elevator. Several minutes later they were in front of his door and he was pleased to note she didn't seem winded in the least. He heard someone moving around inside and tested the knob. As usual, the halfwit hadn't locked the front door, a holdover from his more luxurious upbringing, one Sesshoumaru was trying to break him of.
"Hey cripple, how'd it go?" Inu Yasha's voice called out from the kitchen. Sesshoumaru heard the onna gasp behind him and wished he could explain the special nature of his relationship to Inu Yasha to her, at the very least inform her that he couldn't kill the bastard without severe consequences.
"Ask her, she's here. Entertain her," He replied stonily, leaving her standing in the main living area while he walked down the narrow hall to his room.
Kagome eyed the stranger from the other day warily, unsure if she wanted to spend any time with someone that was so insensitive.
"So what's the asshole done? I'm Inu Yasha by the way."
"Done?" Kagome asked, earning a chuckle as Inu Yasha slurped ramen from a styrofoam container.
"You look ready to spit daggers. He's good at getting people like that," He replied, swallowing the thick weft of noodles he'd stuffed into his mouth. Kagome was surprised at the difference between the brothers. Sesshoumaru had been so neat when he ate, and Inu Yasha...Wasn't.
They didn't look much alike either. There were small similarities, like their pale hazel eyes and the long hair. But Inu Yasha looked rougher, more brawny than Sesshoumaru did. Where the older brother looked more refined, almost feline, Inu Yasha reminded her of something rougher, his expressive eyes almost dog-like.
"Hello?" The younger brother asked, waving a hand around, another hunk of noddles hanging from his mouth. Kagome giggled at the strange expression and shook her head.
"He's just..." She paused, unsure how to word it without sound too rude.
"An asshole. I know, I've lived with him for twenty years."
A door slid open and closed and Sesshoumaru joined them a stack of books tucked into his arm. Inu Yasha eyed them curiously, eyes widening when he saw the title of the one on top.
"These all have chapters on the tessen in them, and different ways of using it. Don't bother reading the rest, it won't make sense unless you have a background in martial arts."
"You're going to let her borrow those?" Inu Yasha burst out, a small bit of noddle flying from his mouth. "You won't even let me touch them!"
"Because you are a disgusting beast," Sesshoumaru replied snidely, flicking the piece of noddle from the cover of the top book before moving over to the low lying table that served mostly to mark the dining area from the 'living room'. Kagome followed, noticing he'd changed into a clean white shirt identical to the last one. Briefly she recognized it as one of the kind that came in a package of three or four. The cotton stretched slightly over his chest, outlining the shape of his torso.
Once they'd sat down, Inu Yasha went to the kitchen, returning with three sodas and setting them down as he took a seat opposite Kagome, eyes on the books on the table. She was surprised to see Sesshoumaru begin to relax as he flipped through the pages of the first book, coming to an area towards the middle that had diagrams of the kata. Realizing that he must have had the books a long time and read them several times, she relaxed as well while he began explaining the theory behind the movements.
It was more fascinating than she had thought it would be. Sesshoumaru's mellow cadence drew her in, and she had no trouble understanding the movements once he gave reason for them. He gave examples, and she looked up from the diagrams when he would move his arm, sometimes even letting Inu Yasha help him.
The obvious dislike between the brothers faded as they both stood and began sweeping through basic postures and movements, apparent only when one called the other something derogatory or insulted their technique. Sesshoumaru's missing arm made explaining some of the forms difficult, and he didn't seem to begrudge Inu Yasha stepping in at those times and offering to show her.
The more she watched, the more she realized Sesshoumaru had been right. Sure it wasn't exactly what she wanted to do, but the postures and movements were much closer to her ideal than the traditional dance forms she'd been taught. Not to mention she could easily incorporate the kicks and lunges into her dancing, rounding it out and giving her more to work with.
At one point they moved the table against the wall, and Kagome was surprised when Sesshoumaru gestured for her to stand.
"Do you remember the form from this afternoon?" He inquired.
She posed her body and began sweeping her arm over her head as she spun in place, bringing the arm back down and to her chest.
"Much better," He rumbled approvingly. Kagome flushed with pleasure only to feel stupid when Inu Yasha snorted disbelievingly.
"She's got it right. Ignore the gimp Kagome, you did it perfectly."
"Thanks," She chirruped, embarrassment fading as quickly as it had come. It wasn't a lot, but it was progress. Inu Yasha's phone rang and he pulled it out, flipping it open and putting it to her ear. The second the voice over the other line started, he began cursing.
"Damn, I lost track of time. I was supposed to meet Miroku at his place two hours ago," He growled.
"Two hours?" Kagome gasped. "What time is it?"
"Eight thirty," Sesshoumaru supplied, looking at his own phone. Kagome drew in a sharp breath and darted to the table, grabbing her bag and stacking the books in her arms, looking to the elder brother while the younger dashed out of the apartment.
"My mom's going to kill me!"
"Tell her we took a break to eat before studying again. I'll have you home within the hour," He told her, holding back a growl when she dropped his books on the tables unceremoniously as she dug her phone from her bag and flipped it open, scrolling through numbers frantically.
"Mom? Hi, yeah. I'm sorry, we stopped to eat and then went back to the library. I'm sorry, I totally lost track of time," She lied, face flushing as he watched her intently.
"Yeah, Sesshoumaru is a good study buddy, a bit of a slave driver though," She chuckled weakly, glaring at the man across from her when he smirked. "Okay, I should be home within an hour, we've just got a couple of things to go over before we head out." A pause. "M'kay, bye mom. Love you too." She closed the phone and stuffed it into her bag, hands lightly trembling.
"You are a terrible liar," He commented as she gathered the books back into a neat pile and picked them up, swinging her bag over her other shoulder.
"I'll take that as a compliment," She muttered, blue eyes narrowing when he moved over to a metal trunk and opened it to pull out a large clear container.
"I want to see how you use the fans before I take you back," He answered the unspoken question as he strode past her and out the door. She followed, waiting patiently when he locked the door and jiggled the knob, making sure it was secure. Unable to contain her own excitement, she practically skipped down the stairs and couldn't stop herself from humming a nonsense song.
He drove them back to the park and she almost exploded out his car, her bag in hand as she ran to the deserted basketball court. Darkness was falling, and though the light pollution made the area less than ideal, her blood was thrumming excitedly through her veins, her heart slamming in her chest.
"We have to let them soak. What kind of fuel do you normally use?" He asked.
"I've only burned once. Kujaku uses kerosine, and I used what she had," Kagome admitted, disconcerted by his frown.
"I have a mixture I use, it burns hotter than kerosine," He replied. "It's brighter, and it doesn't burn as quickly."
Kagome nodded and pulled her fans and the basins from her bag, setting the basins on the ground and dropped the fans in. She watched as he poured the fuel into the basins, soaking the kevlar wick. Once he was satisfied, he stood and capped the bottle, eyes glinting strangely in the dying light.
"What attracts you to fire?" He asked finally, eyes still focused on the basins.
Kagome stopped, his tone striking a cord somewhere in her heart. It felt like there was something below the question, a note she didn't quite understand. Instinctively knowing he wouldn't appreciate her default answer, she opened her mouth and closed it, suddenly feeling shy. Her thoughts seemed silly in the face of his seriousness, and she was positive he already thought she was an idiot.
His gaze swung to her and he blinked once, a silent command.
"It's stupid," She muttered.
"Perhaps the most unique answer I've heard," He replied stonily. Burned by the apathy of his tone, Kagome looked to the sky, eyes seeking out the few stars that filtered through the clouds, barely visible for the the city lights drowning them out.
"Stars are nothing but burning chemicals. Fire. They're so far away, and you can barely ever see them here," She sighed, not even looking at him. "I want to be like one. I want to burn so brightly the kami look down in wonder to see a star coming to life on the earth's surface."
The silence was deafening, and she felt her cheeks growing hot. Now she didn't even dare look at him.
"I told you it was stupid," She finally muttered, feeling absurd and foolish.
"It is a unique reason," He replied gruffly, and she turned back to him, surprised by how uncomfortable he looked. "Most engage fire for far less."
"You sound like you hate those people," She commented softly.
"I know it's capabilities," He admitted, and she noticed his eyes flicking to where an arm had once hung. Tears burned her eyes and her throat tightened when she realized what he was telling her.
"And you didn't quit?" She asked, finding her voice.
"It is not in me to give up."
In that moment her respect for the strange man grew in leaps and bounds. Through the course of the day, she had seen him get lost in a topic he obviously loved, and she could understand why he disliked other performers. He probably felt that most of them were mocking something he had devoted a good portion of his life to. The fact that he had lost a limb to fire and continued playing with it only colored that, adding a new dimension to a person she had initially thought an insensitive jerk.
"Your fans should be ready," He commented, breaking the strange silence. Kagome nodded again, moving to pick the fans up and flick off the excess fluid. She closed them and held the ends out, waiting for him to light them. The lighter clicked, and fire jumped from the edge of the cheap plastic lighter to the tips of one fan and then the other.
Still shaken by the sudden change in her perspective, she moved to the center of the basketball court and assumed the position he had taught her earlier. Inhaling the chemical smell of the fluid burning away and the smoke, she exhaled and felt everything in her mind still. Wishing to show her appreciation, her fans snapped open and she began to move, going through what little she had been able to pick up that day.
Sesshoumaru watched, still angry at himself for his slip. He had not intended to tell her anything about himself, not about his past or his current circumstances. But his anger began ebbing, slipping away as he observed her. Shock shifted into pleasure with each step she took.
She was imitating the movements he and Inu Yasha had gone through that day, and despite the imperfections of her form, she proved that she had been watching and listening. There were hints of wildness in her actions, bleeding through in her wide arcs and spins, but it was not as uncontrolled as what he had seen of her first burn.
She stumbled once, and the fire ghosted over her face, exposing her expression to him. Either the flames or her own inner joy made her eyes fever bright, and the smile on her face was a small, half hypnotized sort, as if she had lulled herself into a trance. Her answer came back to him, and despite the stilted poetry of it, he realized it suited her.
She was a woman of quiet passions. Her mother was slowly strangling them, damping a flame that had been burning quietly for years. Perhaps it was an ironic twist of fate that Kagome had chosen fire as her rebellion. The constraints placed on her explained her wildness as well. Passion had to escape somehow, and from what he had gleaned, her dancing was the only outlet she had. The polite, somewhat shy female he had studied with in a better part of town was gone, and there was a different woman in her place now. The transformation was nothing short of startling and complete.
She stopped, and he watched her walking closer. Timidly she sat one of the fans down at the edge of the court, a silent offer. Knowing how much she loved them, and how rare an opportunity to really use them must be, he couldn't help but feel complimented by the offer. Not willing to repay such a gesture with rudeness, he bent and picked it up, closing it and moving to the center of the court.
She moved to face him, and he began going through the kata of tessenjutsu, movements flowing smoothly from his memory, and she tried to imitate him. He was controlled grace, she was clumsy and undisciplined. Imperfect mirrors of one another, his stern focus was countered by her child like wonder. Each movement of his body came from lessons ingrained in physical memory, and each step for her seemed to be a revelation, something that quietly amused him as he kept half an eye on her.
His heartbeat felt as if it slowed, pulsing a beat that he moved his body in time to. The ever strange sound of the fire, like a flag flapping in a heavy wind snapped and hissed in time with that beat and the light of the flame itself darkened the rest of the world, shrinking it to the island of the basketball court. Feeling free in the simplicity of his movements, calm in their familiarity, it wasn't until the fire dimmed and he snapped the fan shut that he realized he'd slipped into that clear, still state he sought out during regular sword practice.
"Thank you," She murmured, spreading the fan out to cool. He followed suit, setting the tessen next to it's mate and sitting down a few feet from her.
He said nothing, merely looked to the sky to find what few stars he could.
A/N: This chapter for this title is brought to you by Signum, featuring Kate Louise Smith. The extended mix is beautiful, and I highly suggest you go over to youtube for a listen.
Okay, now I would like to state the book I got my idea from is titled Occult Japan: Shinto, Shamanism and the Way of the Gods by Percival Lowell. In the edition I am currently reading (1990 Inner Traditions) there is a forward posing that the Japanese entered wars they could not win because of their belief that they descended from gods. The book was written in 1895 and the forward shortly after WWII. So it was a plot point, one that I hope no one takes true offense with or takes too seriously. The book is a good attempt at trying to put the stories of shinto belief into chronological order, even if the english translations of the names make the whole thing a little wordy.
Also, sorry this is late. (Im always so late...argh) The stepfather has been recovering from having stints put in his legs, so my boyo and I were voluntold for yardwork yesterday. Jeebus...try cutting over an acre of grass three feet tall with a pushmower. (I love my family...I love my family...) And after we went to see The Business for the first time. It was an amazing show. (Still riding the concert high) Oh, and PBR is nasty.