Hey All,
I'm taking a mental breather from Fragments (I hate writing sad crap for an
extended period of time) and I came across
*this* on my hard drive. After
cleaning it up a bit, I decided, what the hell, might as well post it.
Aside from Gary's story (which I'm biting my nails, waiting for
more....
*HINT HINT*) I haven't seen any other IY fanfictions on this
list...I think everyone should write some seeing as I'm obsessed with this
series in a really, really sick way. >_<
Here we go:
DISCLAIMER: Inuyasha is property of Rumiko Takahashi and Viz - no profit is
being made from this work of fiction and no infringement is intended.
ARCHIVE:
*DRAFT DO NOT ARCHIVE*
RATING: R
SUMMARY: There's got to be a measure of maturity at some point in time.
People grow up, half-demons change - lines are drawn and things understood
and contained. But what we can't control is what we don't anticipate, and
magic cannot be predicted. Kagome and Inuyasha are faced with some tough
realizations, and just when it seems like things are calming down - the
Shikon no Tama kicks into high gear.
NOTE: I'm taking a mental break from writing pure, unadulterated angst - I
wanted to tap out something dirty and fun. Feel free to tear this to
shreds.
All feedback is welcomed at
echonymph@msn.com
=====
MATURITY
-ling
======
There are times that I turn around to look behind me, at the way the sun set
amidst the dust our feet rose up - and at moments like those, I just want to
sit down and give up.
So many miles traveled, all those half-tragedies survived, but for what?
Pieces on pieces of shards that together make the wishes and hopes of one,
careful person come true. The Shikon no Tama, powerful and all possessing,
the downfall of many a great creature, and the uprising a of a hundred
different demonic horrors.
I'm not as simple and stupid as that damn priest likes to think, and I'm
nearly as smart as Kagome sometimes gives me credit for. I want that jewel
for all the wrong reasons - but I know how to keep it for all the right
ones.
"Inuyasha," Kagome calls wearily, "can we please sit down a while - I'm
really tired." I cast a glance in her direction, and I sniff the air
slightly. All right - she's telling the truth - wait.
I sniff the air again.
Oh, and she's in heat, too.
Fantastic. Tonight is going to be hell for me.
It must have only started a few moments ago, or else I would have been
walking funny earlier. Thank God for these robes. Don't start me on the
horrors of the male perversity, you deal with a body part that can't be
hidden, constrained, or properly punished without seriously painful
consequences, and that possesses a mind of its own -
*then* you can harass
me about it.
But even with the damn kimono - sitting down sounds good.
Gruffly, I sneer at her and throw down her enormous Pack from Hell,
carefully listening for the sounds of any unfriendly intruder, I smirk and
say, "Fine, this place seems as good as any to tuck down for the night." I
sniff the air again. "There's a stream just over there - we should be set."
She raises an eyebrow in surprise. And I can understand why. On most days,
it takes at least three 'sits' to get me to stop and set up camp - this
relative sensitivity has got her off center. Good.
She smiles now, "Thanks, Inuyasha." She grabs Sango's hand, the strap to
her bookbag and starts bolting towards the dark part of the woods -
undoubtedly for their nightly bathroom rituals. Ever since Kagome
introduced Sango to the joys of future skin-care products, every evening has
just been another trial in repressing laughter for me and the priest. If
its not cucumbers over their eyes, then its some strange, pale green cement
all over their faces. We know better than to laugh - but it still hurts to
hold it in.
"Inuyasha," he calls, and I glance towards where he's built a fire.
Sniffing, I walk over to it, and plop myself down in the soft moss there,
eyes captured by the flame as he says, "We have to talk about what we're
going to do."
"Do?" I ask, "About what?" My voice a great deal more polite than I usually
allow - and that alone makes Miroku stare at me in wonder for a moment
before continuing:
"About the jewel, Inuyasha - we're only missing about one or two pieces
anymore."
That was why I was thinking about the Shikon jewel to begin with today -
we're almost done collecting.
=====
Sometimes, things just get from bad to worse to 'Inuyasha as a ragin'
youkai'. There's a steep hill from where I started off this morning, to
where I am right now.
My only consolation is that we've almost completed the Shikon no Tama, and
afterwards . . . Well, I don't really know yet. But I'm sure I'll be better
than right now.
Right now I'm cold, sick, tired, and cramping.
Stupid ovaries.
I started feeling the first pangs of agony when we passed over the hill -
and I saw the steely gazes of one or two local youkai trash that hung around
zero in on me. I can't say their facial expressions were mean, but they
were a tad
*too* friendly for my liking.
There's an inherent lesson to be learned in this, just because women are in
'heat' doesn't mean that we want some. In case no female has ever gone off
on you about this already - it is painful, it is nauseating, and no, it is
*not* some joyous passage into adulthood. Most likely, all we want is to
curl up in a ball and die with dignity.
The point is - shirking back a little, I stepped up to Inuyasha and grabbed
his hand, garnering his attention so I could point at the pair of them
sitting there, watching me. Now, I'm sure you can guess what they thought I
was telling him, because they recognized Inuyasha, watched me whisper in his
ear, and saw his fangs gleam as he grinned evilly.
Well, what I actually said was, "Hey! Look behind those two guys, there's a
noodle stand - maybe we could get some later!"
Nevertheless, they ran, and I congratulated myself.
Demons and their senses of smell, bah. My God, if Inuyasha wasn't a
half-youkai - he'd be able to smell it, too, and I don't even want to
*think* about the teasing I'd withstand.
"Sango," I hissed urgently, "can the guys still see us?"
"No. Why?" she asks, puzzled as she reaches into her own pack and pulls out
an extra yukata she keeps with her. It's dark blue with pale pink
butterflies all over it, simple and made of rough-spun cloth. She may have
been a demon-slayer, but that didn't mean that she had to be dirty.
"I had an accident." She raises her eyebrows and grins. Of course she
knows, how could she not, it's a chick thing. "You tell anyone, and I'll
skin you." I feel dirty, and nothing save for a quick splash and fresh
clothes will cheer me up. I tug off my panties and unhook my bra, I'm
completely nude now - and I'm reaching for a towel when she says
*it*.
"Man, Kagome-chan, you're mean when you're ready to screw-"
=====
Shit, there was screaming.
God, I hate it when there's screaming.
It's even worse when it's Sango's screaming, multiply that by eight million
when it's Kagome.
It's as if the entire bottom half of my body drops out from underneath me,
and I'm overcome with this awful vertigo. With all of this, of course, I
panic and my mind runs through seven thousand variations of painful, violent
things that she could be suffering and that I should have protected her
from. You wonder how you're going to survive without her there to make you
smile or roll her eyes, or tell you what an ass you've made of yourself.
And then the worst part of all - you think: Oh - God, I never got to tell
her what I felt about her, and now she's dead, she'll never know.
I can see the priest running out of the corner of my eyes; he's got that
look on his face, that 'I will give everything holy and good if I can save
her - everything' expression. I'd roll my eyes and tease him about his on
again/off again relationship with Sango if I wasn't so terrified.
I ought to be less paranoid, really.
But then again, she's wearing the Shikon shards (something that I absolutely
despise - considering that she's a weak and silly human who wouldn't be able
to protect herself from lusting demons or malicious demons or - but I'm
getting off topic here). There are millions of people and who'd do more
than slit the pretty, white throat of one girl in strange clothing to get to
them.
"KAGOME!" I yell, cutting through the underbrush and into the thick forest,
"KAGOME! Are you all right?"
"SANGO!" the priest bellows, eyes flaming, "KAGOME-SAMA!"
And we stop short in silence, only the sound of trees and grass shaking in
our aftermath penetrating the absolute quiet.
Oh. My. God.
Sango - her arms raised to shield her face, her yukata half hanging off of
her shoulders, revealing broad expanses of cream-colored skin broken my her
underthings. Though (oh crud) not enough.
And . . .
Kagome. Damn. Kagome.
She's got her arm reared back with a pinecone, aiming at Sango's head, her
eyes wide and shocked and embarrassed, turning to meet mine.
Did I mention that she's naked?
Yup. Completely flippin' naked. Not a shred of cloth.
And she's smelling like musk and strawberries and fucking.
Right - tonight is going to be hell.
=====
I should have known that something bad was going to happen.
I should have told Sango to shut up the moment she screamed as I threw the
first pinecone at her for that crude comment. And I should have taken the
yells from the trees as a warning to
*get some clothes on*.
"Inuyasha?"
Of course, I'm as dumb as a rock.
It's been five hours, and he still won't talk to me, hell, he won't even
look at me. Well, except for that time Miroku tried to grab me again and
Inuyasha slammed him into the dust - he was sort of glancing at me from the
corner of his eyes.
He turns towards me, face bright red and his mouth in a straight, flat line,
and he stays seated Indian style. He doesn't say anything. So I sigh and
sit down, thankful that I'm wearing my comfortable, worn blue pajamas.
Conversations like this require everything to be warm and nice - the words
exchanged would be hell enough without extenuating circumstances.
"Inuyasha," I say again, this time my voice much softer. He turns to look
at the ground, using one long claw to scribble in the dust near his foot.
Sighing again, I say:
"You know, I'm not mad at you about seeing me naked," I pause, "You ran over
there because you were worried about me," and dutifully, I add, "and Sango.
There's nothing wrong with that."
He nods, "I know that."
I look surprised, no 'stupid wench' comment? "Then why are you acting like
this?"
"You wouldn't understand," he growls, and pausing for a moment, says,
"Stupid wench." I bite my tongue. The urge to say 'sit' is rising at an
alarming rate. What I had planned to be a reconciliatory conversation is
rapidly becoming another test on my patience thanks to this dog-demon of
mine.
This dog-demon of mine.
Well, he is mine. Mine and my own forever and eternity, who else would have
him? He's gruff; he's crude, curses and drinks. He just seems like that
type of person. Demon. Whatever. He's slow on the uptake, sensitive as a
lump of mud, and he would rather peel off his skin than be nice while other
people were watching.
And I love him. Dammit, I love him.
"It's something that a human wouldn't get, so just back off," he mutters. I
frown. I hate this excuse. It's his universal reason for everything.
Humans wouldn't understand it - so obviously, he's got no obligation to tell
me.
My voice is warning as I start, "Inuyasha, I don't want to ruin this
perfectly nice evening by saying the 's' word, but I will if I have to." He
stares at me, that beseeching, transfixing, dewy-eyed, whipped-puppy-dog,
'why are you going to be mean to someone who loves you and licks your
cheek?' look boring into my skull.
God, I hate that.
There's no way I can say 'sit' to him after that.
But then again,
*he* doesn't have to know that.
"I'm serious," I say, "I'll do it."
"Fine," he scowls, "what do you want, wench?"
I roll my eyes and turn to stare at the crackling fire, to which Inuyasha
had been tending before I interrupted his private sulking. Sometimes, I'll
wake up at night and find him like this, sitting near the flame, his eyes
even more golden in the flickering light, his face so terribly sad. And I
worry about him - a lot. I wish there was something that I could do to make
that hint of loss in his eyes go away, that I could hug him and have him hug
me back without the oppressive guilt of Kikyo and her pseudo-death hanging
over his head.
The point is, I want him to talk to me and tell me what's wrong, and so, I
tell him that.
He sneers, "I'm
*not* going to tell you, all right? It's private, and it's
something that human's wouldn't understand anyway. Why are you so hung up
on this? It's not like I'm suicidal or something, so could you just get
your scrawny human ass back into your sleeping roll -"
"Si-" I start.
"ALL RIGHT!" he cries, slapping a hand over my mouth. "I'll talk, okay?" I
nod happily. It's blackmail, it's cruel; I know. Thank heaven for Kaede
and those prayer beads, there'd be no talking to him any other way.
"Right," I say, removing his hand, "now, tell me, why are you acting so
strangely - does it have anything to do with me?" He nods slowly,
reluctantly, not meeting my eyes, claw back to scraping the dirt. I frown.
"Does it have to do with you seeing me naked?"
=====
Naked?
Good gods, woman - who cares about
*naked*?
Certainly, yes, that was a good show, and no, I wouldn't turn down a repeat
of it under almost any circumstance. But that's not why I can't look at
her. It's only a fourth of the problem.
Picture this: A girl smells like
*pure*,
*unadulterated* sex. Her entire
body is radiating 'FUCK ME' and you're only about ten feet away from her at
any given time for a twenty-hour period. Add this to the fact that this
particular girl ends up showing you exactly what she looks like underneath
those short skirts and tight shirts.
I'm not
*about* to stand up.
I'd
*never* crawl up from the 'sit's I'd get.
I wish I was one of those demons that would glare, wander down the road, and
find one of the many fine establishments that provide entertainment for a
small fee. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. Leave a coin or two at the front
desk.
Oh, no, my mother had to go and instill this sense of
*respect* for the act
of intercourse. She had to go and ingrain into me the deepest reverence for
marriage and commitment. Gods, I'm a youkai! I'm not going to
*get*
married!
Or, heaven forbid, to snatch some mortal and content myself with a quick
rape in a hayfield. Of course - what with spending over half my waking
hours with Kagome, I'm starting to see this as less of an option, and more
of a heinous crime over which she would 'sit' me for not preventing or being
vengeful. Stupid human wench.
But the point is, if I wasn't the way I am, I'd have dealt with this problem
by now, and it'd be over and done.
"Well," she presses, "does it have anything to do with seeing me naked?"
Yes, I want to say, absolutely. Everything to do with seeing you naked.
Because now - I'll know exactly what patches of skin I'd like to suck on as
I'm -
Okay, stop that!
I feel nervous as I start, "Look, Kagome," I pause, and blurt out, looking
straight into her pale, soulful gray-blue eyes, "You're in heat, aren't
you?"
She turns crimson, her gaze flutters towards the ground and she wrings her
hands worriedly. "You," she whispers, deathly quiet, "you could tell?"
I find myself laughing at this revelation. "Kagome - even that damn kitsune
could tell. That's why he kept pestering me about the difference between
girls and boys today." I shrug, "Of course I could tell." She wraps her
arms about herself, and shakes. My brow furrows.
"What's wrong, Kagome?" She doesn't say anything, and I place a gentle hand
on her shoulder, willing myself not to tear off the shirt and do
un-gentlemanly things to her flesh. "Kagome?"
=====
Thanks for taking the time to read!
-ling
PS - Hey, my new webpage for Fragments is UP! Go to:
www.ling.0catch.com >> archive >> ranma 1/2 >> fragments!
If there are broken links on any pages
*other* than the Fragments page,
please, don't report them, the page is still under heavy construction. =)
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