Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Monster in the Home

Souta normally preferred to sleep late on weekends, could he get away with it. But, this morning, he woke early, eagerness eclipsing the remnants of sorrow from the night before. Jumping out of bed, he quickly dressed, and then scampered to the closed door of what had been his sister's room.

"Inuyasha?" he whispered, with a very light knock on the door. "Are you awake yet?"

"'Course, I am. Come on in, runt."

Grinning, Souta opened the door and entered. "Good morning, Inuyasha no jii-chan!" The elderly hanyo was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, a blanket wrapped around him, the hilt of Tessaiga leaning against his shoulder. "Did you sleep sitting up?" he asked.

"No." Inuyasha gave him a smile, ears twitching amidst the somewhat rumpled white hair. "I just woke up early, and I'm not comfortable in that kind of chair." He nodded towards Kagome's old desk chair.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Souta, finding his own seat on the bed. He studied Inuyasha's face. It was rather weird, to see the red and blue eyes, where there should have been gold. But, whatever the changes, it was still Inuyasha, and Souta was anticipating weeks, months, maybe even years of being with the man he'd hero-worshiped a few years ago; the man his sister had fallen in love with. He was so looking forward to hearing all about Kagome's life with him, about all the history Inuyasha had seen, and to, well, just being together.

And having someone to tease again. "I remember the morning Kagome came dragging down the stairs," he added, before the hanyo could reply, "complaining that you'd hogged the bed all night, forcing her to try and sleep on the floor. I never understood why she didn't just wake you up, or crawl into bed beside you."

Inuyasha snorted. "I would've probably freaked out, if I'd woken up with her next to me, back then," he said drily, but not without an amused note in his voice and twinkle in his demonic eyes. "I hadn't meant to fall asleep like that, but I was so tired that night… and to answer your first question, I slept well." He sighed, suddenly wistful. "I can still smell her in here, you know. Not much, but to smell it again after all these years…"

"Wow." Souta stared at him. "That's … amazing."

"Keh. Not really… just an inu hanyo thing."

Souta scooted closer. "Well, I think it's amazing." He settled his own back against the wall. "I'm really glad you're here, Inuyasha."

… … …

Grandpa was usually up early, eager to be about and working. Weekends were his busy time, outside of holidays, when people came to the shrine, for all their myriad reasons. He enjoyed the arrival of visitors, whether tourists or regulars. He relished the opportunity to describe the history of the shrine. And few things gave him more satisfaction than presiding over private ceremonies—especially weddings.

But, this morning, he didn't want to rise. He didn't want to think about the one ceremony he had always hoped to perform. He didn't want to think about his devastating loss. He didn't want to think about the monstrous, red-eyed face of the man who had stolen his granddaughter backward in time, and who had returned to force him to admit the terrible reality.

Kagome was dead. His bright, beautiful granddaughter had aged and died centuries in the past. It was unnatural, should be impossible, and yet—it had happened.

No parent should have to bury a child. Involuntarily, he remembered that scene from the set of fantasy movies Souta and his friends had rented some months ago, during a day-long marathon. He'd only seen snatches, but he'd seen that scene, and remembered it, how utterly true he had found it. He rarely watched movies, didn't care for them, but that scene, so sharply reminiscent of his situation, burying his son, had burnt itself into his memory.

And this was just as bad. No grandparent should have to bury a grandchild, even if only figuratively. Maybe it was true that Kagome had lived a long, full, happy life in the past. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel such pain and grief, for a grand-daughter who had made her choices, and simply lived out her life in a different time.

But, it didn't matter.

"Father?" came a soft voice, with a softer knock. "Are you feeling all right? Breakfast is ready."

Grandpa swallowed back the pain. "Thank-you, dear," he called back, trying to keep his voice steady as he sat up. "I'll be just a few minutes."

"All right."

He forced himself to go through the motions, trying not to think, trying to brace himself for what was coming. Walking into the kitchen, as expected, he saw the white-haired, white-eared being who had brought him such pain.

The other looked up at him. Grandpa tried to see the Inuyasha he remembered in that loose-skinned, heavily-wrinkled, fanged and red-eyed death-head of a face. He failed.

The 'monster' worked himself out of the chair, kept one hand on its back for support, and bowed. "Higurashi-sama," he said in that cracked, rough voice that was only somewhat like Inuyasha's; "I deeply regret the pain I have caused you. It was—careless—of me. I was—only thinking of—my need, not of your feelings. I—if you wish me to leave, I will. My—my only wish is that, if you can, you—forgive this old, thoughtless hanyo."

Grandpa stared at the other, as the latter straightened, even less able to see the rude, uncouth youth who had crashed into his life barely four years ago. An angry, bitter part of him wanted to demand that the monster get out of his house and never return.

But, he couldn't say that. Not with his daughter-in-law standing by the stove, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Not with his grandson looking up at him, rigid and pale.

And not with the invisible spirit, in his mind, standing at the other end of the table, looking stunned and hurt.

How could he turn away the only person who could tell him about his vanished granddaughter? How could he refuse to listen to the only person who could tell him whether Kagome had laughed, if she had cried, in the years after she had left him? How could he say 'go, and never return', to the single being who knew Kagome as a grown woman? Who knew how she had lived, how she had loved; what family she had made with that young rascal? The man who had last touched her, hugged her, kissed her, and been with her…

"I don't want you to leave," he made himself say, even as he looked away from the face he could not yet stand. "Kagome … I …" he swallowed against pain. "Don't go."

He couldn't say the other words, yet, though he knew, given nature and time, that one day he would.

The grief was too strong, at the moment.

But, the day would come, when need to know would outweigh that pain.

And the other, monstrous as his seeming was, must be there.

Author's Note: This was written for the quotation prompt ""What you see depends on what you're looking for." (Source Unknown). It was posted on the I-B-4-Y LiveJournal community on December 5, 2011. It took first place. (2/15/2012)