Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Higurashi	By : WillowCarlisle Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Kagome > Sessh?maru/Kagome Views: 21294 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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"Hey there, Mrs.H. Hi, Kagome."
It was noon, and there he stood, leaning over the wooden banister of their quaint little porch as though he had been there all along. Kagome assessed the boy blandly, turning to lift a paper bag of groceries from her mother's arms, then passing him by completely as he moved to help her.
"Hello, Yutaka," Ms.Higurashi greeted the sandy-haired boy with a smile. "How is your mother?"
Their voices drowned away into a low hum as Kagome slipped through the front doorway of their western-style home and headed for the kitchen. Depositing the bag she carried onto the wooden counter, she reached in and began to pack away the contents. The window above their kitchen sink looked out over the small garden that her mother had brought to life at the side of the house. Various flowers that she had never learned the names of drooped weakly under the heavy weight of the afternoon sun, and she felt a slight twinge deep inside for the poor little buds.
"Such a nice boy," Ms.Higurashi's voice came from the doorway behind her. "Don't you think so, Kagome?"
"Water..."
The older woman looked up from the bags she carried.
"Water?" she repeated slowly, wary that she may have misheard the girl.
"The flowers..." Kagome murmured, her voice little more than a whisper. "I should water them... Before they die..."
Ms.Higurashi watched as the girl pulled a plastic pitcher from the cupboard above the sink and set it beneath the faucet. The small pale hand that reached to turn on the water seemed to tremble ever so slightly. The once happy brown eyes seemed glazed and dull all at once as the girl stared blindly at the water that flowed to fill the container. Her daughter's chest rose and fell as she breathed, never taking her eyes from the water that began to wash over the rim of the pitcher, swirling and sloshing as it spilled down the drain.
"Kagome...?"
The tiniest whimper slipped from the girl's lips; so small, that had the water not been the only other sound in the room, she would surely have missed it. But it was there. And as Kagome's delicate little fingers rose to caress the surface of the still running water, she knew that the time had finally come for her dear, sweet little girl to face the emotions that she had so deligently forced into the darkest corner of her mind.
"Mama..." the cry came, bittersweet to her ears.
Kagome could feel her legs begin to crumble, and leaned gladly into her mother's arms as the sobs overtook her. She gasped weakly, trying her very hardest to breathe as the cold hands of reality clamped about her frail little neck and gave it a frightening squeeze. She choked violently, coughing and crying, sobbing and wailing into her mom's quivering shoulder. The arms that held her were strong and gentle, and she allowed the moment to seize her as the two rocked together in a slow rhythm reminiscent of her childhood.
"Oh, my poor little girl..." Ms.Higurashi crooned, stroking the hair from the girl's damp cheeks. "Shhh... it's alright. I'm here, sweetheart. Mommy's here."
And there she would remain, on the cool kitchen tiles, until the last of her daughter's sobs withered away into nothing.
*~~~
"Hey! No fair, Sis! That's the last piece!"
Kagome laughed, using her chopsticks to break the staff of oden into two, passing the bigger half to her little brother.
It was the first laugh her mother could recall in over six months. The color had yet to return to the girl's cheeks, but the brilliance of the smile had made it into Kagome's eyes, and she knew that this within itself was a wonderful start.
"Aww, you didn't have to give me the bigger piece," Souta protested while taking a huge bite from the treat.
"That didn't stop you from eating it all!" Kagome declared in mock exasperation.
Night had long fallen over the countryside. The heat of the afternoon made way for a light and chilly breeze as the moon rose over the tall maple trees that surrounded the little house. The afternooon lunch had been long forgotten as Kagome made a quick recovery, helping her mother to prepare the meal as they waited for Souta to return from the library. And when the phone rang, letting them know that he would be late, they sat together over bowls of homemade ice cream and talked for hours as dinner simmered on the stove.
Laughing lightly, Kagome rose and cleared the bowls from the table. She sighed to herself as she poured a little soap to the wash cloth and brought it to a lather. Picking up her mother's favorite blue bowl, she allowed herself to gaze out over the side lawn through the little window above the sink. The Crysanthemums waved lazily to and fro in the breeze, their petals tightly closed to ward off the cold. She sighed again, a little suprised that she had recalled the name of the delicate little buds. She couldn't remember the last time her mom had sat in the garden. They would have to do that again someday.
Past the flower bushes and toward the backyard, she could make out the wooden swing where she had sat the day they first arrived at the new house. The paint had begun to peal in the humid temperature, and the steel joints squeaked lightly as a gust pushed it into motion. Her hands paused, the tranquility of the night scenery broken ever so slighty by the sudden urge to be outdoors.
With a scant word of departure to the two figures who'd moved from the table to settle down in the living room, she dried her hands and made her way through the door leading to the back yard.
It was much cooler outside than she thought it would be. The open countryside seemed to harbor a continuous layer of crisp, auromatic air that blanketed their surroundings in the night, while receeding to the line of trees at the bordering forest upon first light of day. She wrapped her arms about herself as she trudged across the patio to the edge of the lawn, prodding at the sea of grass with the toe of one shoe.
Nights like this always brought back memories of the past...
*~~~
He watched her as she moved to the wooden swing at the end of the patio, her thin little body huddled against the cold.
He'd thought he was mistaken, seeing the woman earlier in the day. On the road to town, he'd caught the scent and nearly faltered at the similiarity between it and the one from so many centuries before. Time, lumbering beast that it was, had brought along many changes, and wiped away many memories, but nothing could make him forget. Nothing could erase her from his mind... from his senses...
So he'd followed. Along the dirt road, across fields and streams. So enthralled by that scent, he had nearly forgotten himself, baring claws and fangs when a fool had stepped into his path. Twice, when the irrationality of it all dawned on him, he had nearly turned back. But then he had come upon the little cream colored house, with its white varanda and gray stone walkway. He had stood there for nearly an hour, just staring at nothing and everything, until the scent of tears drew him near.
Something had broken her, but he didn't know what. Fragments of memory flashed in his mind, telling of emotional farewells, heartbreak, and loss. But none were vivid enough to tell for sure where or when they belonged. Allowing curiosity to get the better of him, he'd made his way into the surrounding woods and found a dry secluded area to sit in. It had been nearly two hundred years since he'd last rested amidst the shadowy canopy of leaves, and he districted himself with plans of returning to that very spot someday to camp, or perhaps to simply stare up at the stars.
Minutes turned to hours before he was met by that oddly alluring scent again. He'd risen, stretched, and yawned just a little before making his way back toward the edge of the woods.
Yes, he'd been right. It was her. Not a reincarnation of a girl he'd once known, but the very girl herself. She was exactly as he remembered her. Perhaps a year or two or three older, but still very much the same. He smiled slightly as he noted that her hair had grown. It was nearly as long as his own, and black and shiny as the night sky. Her complexion had paled ever so slightly. From the grief that hung from her like a second skin, he was sure. Her shoulders were thinner as well, but still held enough muscle to maintain some of her natural beauty and shape.
As she sat and rocked slowly in the swing, he moved further out from the shadows. She smelled wonderful. The wind caught her hair softly, and lifted it from her neck to allow the fragrance to reach his nose. He found himself closing his eyes and breathing deeply. So much had changed, and yet this delicate rose still remained untainted. He opened his eyes and continued to watch her. He knew she sensed him now. It was just a matter of time before she looked his way.
*~~~
Kagome shivered slightly as the breeze blew along the collar of her blouse. It was getting too cold. She'd have to go inside soon, if she didn't want to catch cold. Rising from the seat, she breathed a deep sigh and turned toward the house. Then paused.
It may have been something in the wind. That warm, almost balmy shimmer of anxiety that would course down along her limbs and tingle lazily at her fingertips to tell her something was amiss. Or it may have been the deeply engraved throb of instinct that tugged her mind to attention. Whatever it was that made her foot falter before it crossed the threshold from the back porch, was now calling for her to turn around.
So, with one hand brased shakily against the frame of the door, Kagome slowly turned.
And with that same hand struggling to help her maintain her balance, Kagome slid to the cold wooden floor as her legs gave way under the devastating weight of shock.
His eyes are exactly the same...
The thought came to her before she could make sense of what was going on. Her breath hitched painfully as she stared at him from her odd vantage point. The heel of her shoe bit into her thigh as she sat at the lopsided angle, and yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. If it had not been for the pure white hair, she would have mistaken him for any number of men that lived nearby. And the eyes... those golden orbs of light that bore into her very soul...
"Sesshoumaru..." the name escaped her lips without warning.
She clamped a shaking hand over her lips, her own voice surprising her. The hysteria boiled just below the surface, threatening to overtake her as even from that distance she could see the tiny smile. Millions of fragmented thoughts swirled through her mind all at once and she squeezed her eyes shut to escape the frenzy.
He seemed almost ghostly, standing mere feet away from the shadows of the forest, the light of the moon surrounding him in a translucent glow. The distinctly demonic features seemed strangely out of place when his jeans, tshirt and cap were taken into context. The situation would been almost comical, if it weren't for the overpowering tint of youki that swirled like a vortex around him, reminding her of what he truly was. And yet there he was. Standing as though this was where he belonged. As though it was she, instead of he, that had appeared like a phantom into the wrong era at the worst possible time.
"Kagome," her name was given an almost breathy infraction when he uttered it.
Her eyes shot open. He was much too close for her comfort. Scrambling to her feet, she backed up against the door, staring wide-eyed at the demon who stood within five feet of her.
"How?" was all that would come, her thoughts still muddled as she tried to figure it all out.
He smiled.
"I could easily ask the same of you," he murmured, his features relaxing into an infuriatingly familiar expression of nonchalance. "It would seem to me that either humans have developed a newfound skill to pass from century to century unmarred by age, or you've found a passage to slip through time at your own will and whimsy."
She stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Finding yourself at a loss for words?" he asked, the light touch of amusement in his tone seeming both natural and strange all at once. "I recall you being much more outspoken than this..."
"You..." she began, finding her voice at last as the panic was replaced by budding curiosity. "You weren't always this talkative..."
He smiled again.
"Or this cheerful," she whispered, easing her hand from its deathgrip on the doorknob.
And then the talking began. At first, the words were halted, held in check by what she remembered to be two years of enduring rivalry. But soon the inhibitions slipped away and a mutual acceptance grew, rising between them as they stood together, the cold winds forgotten altogether.
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Higurashi