A/N: As I promised to my Unleashed readers—a new WIP. Doesn’t start out as the happiest fic I’ve ever written, but you’ll see what I mean. There will be fluff and WAFF, never fear. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but it turned out to be impossible to accomplish what I wanted in that format. So it’s growing. Just a few chapters, but I already know exactly where I’m going with this fic. I’ll be without a computer for the next three weeks, and then school starts—but I’m determined to update both this and Unleashed ASAPReview, please.

Disclaimer for entire story: Don’t own Inuyasha.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Mirrors

o-o-o-o-o-o

I gaze down at the dimly lit well. It’s boarded up now, a thin layer of dust already casting its shadow over the sutras Jii-chan plastered on it. Closing my eyes, I feel a single hot tear seep from underneath my eyelid, sliding down my cheek and falling. I can see it in my mind’s eye, glittering for a brief moment before pressing its wet print against the wood.

Back in the beginning, I cried to fill the well with the salty water of my tears. The week that I spent almost completely at the bottom of the well, screaming and sobbing until my voice left me, and all I could do was pound my bleeding fists against the earth—it’s only a blur in my mind, but the knife that had stabbed my heart then is still there, twisting in my chest. All I have to do is look down, and I’ll see it there, slick and red with my heart’s blood.

Then came the numbness, for who knows how long—I lay in bed, not thinking, not hearing, not speaking, not seeing. All I could see was Inuyasha’s face, smiling one of his rare genuine smiles at me, hear his cocky vows of protection—feel the touch of his cold hand cupping my face in a gentle caress as the life slipped from his body, and his golden eyes dimmed. There was no time, no time at all. A mere few seconds, while I collapsed to my knees, sobbing. A mere few seconds, while he spoke his last words to me…

Kagome…koishii…stop crying… I hate it when you cry…

His blood on my hands as I knelt over him, trying desperately to stem the flow of the gaping wound in his chest, covering his face with kisses, sobbing his name over and over, long after the warmth had left his body. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Not after everything we had fought for… I had never told him I loved him, but I did then. I screamed it, not caring who heard me, as if the words could call him back to me. But they didn’t.

My miko powers failed me. The completed jewel failed me. Even Tensaiga failed to bring him back to me. I begged Sesshoumaru to revive him, literally begged on my knees in front of him, even though he told me it was useless, until, grim-faced, he gave in. But after all the legends surrounding that sword, the awe in which people spoke of it, it failed to bring back my love.

The wound in his chest, though grave, was not enough to kill him on its own. Naraku didn’t just kill Inuyasha, he severed the connection between Inuyasha’s soul and his body, manipulating life and death with an ancient weapon that should never have been forged. But Inuyasha still hung on long enough to free my soul from Naraku’s grasp, pushing me back from the realms of a psychic death I still didn’t fully understand. It was a miracle, Kaede told me, that Inuyasha had stayed with us as long as he did.

He protected me. Just like he promised.

Kikyou was right. She told me once that neither of us would have Inuyasha, and she had been right. At the last, Inuyasha had chosen me—but what did that matter, if I no longer had him?

No, I think fiercely, balling my hands into fists at my sides. It does matter. It was Inuyasha who forced me to climb out of bed on that muggy day in late July—it was Inuyasha who kept me from seeking death—it was Inuyasha who made me smile one morning at my family, and tell them that yes, I did plan on returning to school in the fall.

I shift my backpack on my shoulder, and straighten the oh-so-familiar short green skirt of my school uniform. Closing my eyes, I can almost pretend that I’m preparing to jump into the well, to be swallowed by its familiar blue light and emerge in a time that has almost become more familiar than my own in the past two years, to be greeted with a scowl and the words ‘you’re late’ by the cocky, arrogant, irritable hanyou that I loved with all my heart…

I always hated it the way he did that—but what wouldn’t I give to hear those words from his lips again…

“Kagome?” the timid voice from the door of the well-house startles me, and I look up to see Souta, regarding me anxiously. “We—I—are you coming? We’ll be late…”

Poor Souta, I think, with a sudden flash of sympathy for my brother. I mean, I know I frightened him with my breakdown. I frightened everyone. Souta still walks on eggshells around me, as if I might burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

I smile up at my brother, my eyes dry. I want to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry so much about me anymore. I’ve decided that I want to live, no matter how much it hurts, because Inuyasha would have wanted me to, and if there’s one thing the Feudal Era hammered into me, it’s don’t give up without a fight. Still, I have to keep reminding myself that I’m only seventeen, and I’ve got my whole life in front of me. It’s hard to remember that.

The knife twists again in my chest as I remind myself that it’s a life without Inuyasha. But I fight away the pain, and take a deep breath. “I’m coming, Souta,” I say, cocking one hip and playfully swinging the car keys around my finger. “That is, if you trust me to get you to school in one piece.”

His small smile in return warms me a bit, before Mama’s voice calling for him pulls Souta away from the door. I sigh and follow him, going up the steps and sliding the door shut without looking back. I can’t look back. It just hurts too damn much.

Mama is just handing Souta his lunch when I come running up. “Have fun at school!” she says brightly to me, giving me a soft kiss on my cheek. I smile back at her. That’s Mama… ever the optimist. It isn’t because Mama’s blind to the pain I feel, either. Mama lost the man she loved too. I barely remember my father—he died when Mama was still pregnant with Souta—but I know Mama still misses him very much. She understands, as much as it is possible for someone else to understand.

Still, I can’t help but feel my pain is greater. At least they had time together—years.

“I’ll try,” I say. And I really will. But I’m a little nervous too. The last time I went to school was more than five months ago. And then I went through the well for what—three weeks? One week of hunting, one day of fighting, one moment of parting… and then two weeks of recovering, of mourning, of sleeping on Inuyasha’s grave, of always feeling his presence just over my shoulder, of unthinkingly turning to greet him and finding nothing but the wind—but I didn’t cry again after that first awful day. Not until, the jewel purified, my duty done, my goodbyes said, I passed through the well one final time. And then the tears came.

So much for my happy ending…

I shake my head. I missed the end of my third year, and so much before that as well—it was a miracle I didn’t flunk. As it is, I have a lot to catch up on this year. I’ll try, Mama.

“Come on, Souta!” I say, climbing into the driver’s seat of my new silver Toyota 4-Runner. It still feels strange to be driving—I’m so used to the Sengoku Jidai that anything more technologically developed than a bike kinda scares me now. The car is sort of a ‘sorry the love of your life is dead, but cheer up!’ gift, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. With a wave to Mama, and Jii-chan sitting in a chair on the front porch, I start the car and drive off toward school.

o-o-o-o-o-o

“Hey kid… got a light?”

I shake my head, not bothering to glance at the guy who’s approached me. The reek of cigarette fumes and unwashed human accosts my nose, almost overwhelming me. Ignoring him, I start walking, as the bus I just got off pulls away from the curb. Dad wanted me to take the limo, but there’s no fucking way. As of right now, I’ve got a clean slate at this new school, and that suits me just fine.

I hate school—most of it’s pointless, anyway. But good luck convincing my father of that. If I brought it up I’d just get the same old speech about how as a Nishimoto I have certain responsibilities, etc., etc. It doesn’t make any sense to me though, why any of this matters if I’m just going to get a job working for my father anyway. It’s not like he’s even giving me a choice.

At least here, no one knew about my… episodes. Or any of the rest of it. Even so, it fucking sucks. I don’t like opening myself up to others, but I know that things are worse when you don’t have friends. I know all the right things to say, how to judge in an instant who can be an ally and who will be an enemy, and who just isn’t worth my time. My old man taught me that much at least.

Anyway, I don’t doubt that by the end of the today, I’ll be fully engrained within the system, just because I don’t know how it could happen any other way. As I near the front doors of the school, I glance around. All the faces blur together, the scents—both human and youkai—that accompany them a dizzying mess. But one scent reaches me that I somehow separate out from all the others, and I curiously follow my nose with my eyes.

Why does that girl smell like tears?

o-o-o-o-o-o

I gaze at the front doors of my high school, clutching my books to my chest as people stream past on either side of me; girls in their green and white skirts and blouses, identical to mine, boys in their high-collared black suits. For a moment I feel a deep rage toward my fellow students.

Look at them. All caught up their silly little high school dramas—they don’t know anything about pain, and loss.

I take a deep breath, force the anger away. It’s not their fault. The rage fades into a kind of quiet envy.

Here goes nothing, I think, and take a step forward—only to promptly fall flat on my face. Well, actually, the process is a bit more drawn out than that.

My toe snags on an uneven spot in the pavement, and I begin to windmill my arms wildly as the ground tilts toward me. For a moment I hover at the edge of recovery—but inertia and gravity take over. I have just enough time to think oh NO before I fall with a crash, knocking the breath out of myself.

I hear some people snicker, and some make noises of sympathy, both false and sincere, but the bell’s already rung and everyone’s racing inside, not wanting to be late on the first day.

I am mortified beyond belief.

“Owww,” I moan a little, still flat on the ground. I don’t want to get up. I can almost see the headlines. Higurashi Kagome Dies of Embarrassment! Girl Takes Plunge, Classmates Amazed At Tragic Clumsiness!

“Hey,” says a voice that makes my entire body stiffen—“Are you alright?”

I slowly lift my face to see a pair of narrowed golden eyes peering at me, as he crouches in front of me. Silver hair… no, his hair is black, like on his human nights, but… I can’t breathe. I know that face like I know my own soul. My heart’s pounding like it’ll fly right out of my chest. It can’t be. Those eyes. It just—can’t be.

“Inuyasha?” I whisper. Then tears are streaming down my cheeks, and my heart leaps. “Inuyasha!” And then I’m scrambling to my knees. I throw my arms around him, hug him tightly, feel his warmth surround me. Oh, Inuyasha, I’ll never leave you again, Inuyasha I love you…

“What the hell?” he says nervously, thrusting me away from him. He might as well just stab me, for the pain that I feel as I fall back against the pavement, even though he doesn’t really hurt me.

The knife twists deeper into my heart.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Sorry.” It’s not him. But it is him. I don’t understand. It’s all so confusing.

o-o-o-o-o-o

What the fuck? I scowl. How’d she know who I was? Why’d she hug me like that? I hate it when people touch me. The fact that when she did it I didn’t really mind so much bothers me almost as much as the action itself. I’d remember if I had smelled her before. She’s got a nice scent, actually, underneath all that embarrassment and fear and sadness. Which is kind of odd, really, because I don’t like the way most people smell.

I’m totally freaked out right now. Best to just forget this… weird moment, put it behind me. Yeah.

Keeping my voice light, I say, “Hey, where’d you hear that name? Call me Yash. Come on, you gonna lie there all day or what?” And I hold out my hand.

She seems completely dazed, staring at me with those huge blue eyes, and gives me her hand almost as if she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Quickly I stand, pulling her easily to her feet. The way she’s staring at me is making me really uncomfortable, though at least she’s not squealing and flirting with me and shit. I thought she would, after that hug she gave me. Nervously she tugs at her clothes, which have become a little disheveled in that spectacular fall of hers. I can’t help but grin a little.

One minute she was all grace and tragic power, and then, splat. So I went over to help her up. What was I supposed to do, just let her lie there? She’d looked so unhappy there, that for a moment I felt this weird urge to comfort her, to protect her. Me, Nishimoto Yash. The whole comforting thing is definitely not my style. I blame her eyes. Her goddamn blue eyes.

To distract myself from these uncomfortable thoughts, I fall back on the usual sarcasm. “That was one hell of a fall. You always this clumsy?”

She still looks completely shell-shocked, but her mouth seems to be functioning well enough. “No, only on special occasions.”

I snort. I can’t help it.

o-o-o-o-o-o

I can only stare at him, my eyes wide. No. It’s not. It can’t be. Can it? I can’t—it can’t. No. No. He looks the same, exactly the same—the same smirk, the same eyes, the same handsome, tanned features—except that it’s as if his human and hanyou forms had been mixed together, so that his hanyou eyes shine out of a human face, with human ears, and human teeth. You cut your hair, I almost say with a strange disappointment, but then I notice that he’s tucked his ponytail underneath his uniform jacket, per the rules.

“See something you like?” he says, his grin widening.

I go from bloodlessly pale to beet red in under two seconds. I was staring at him, like, like some kind of—airhead! Embarrassment makes me bristle slightly, as my lungs begin to work again. “Thanks,” I say shortly, taking the bag from him. He put back my books for me… I almost smile.

“Nishimoto Yash,” he says, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “I’m new here.” Something flickers in the depths of his eyes, but vanishes as soon as it comes.

I swallow. “Higurashi Kagome,” I murmur, feeling shy. Suddenly, I realize I’m toying with the worn beads of the rosary I’m wearing around my neck. My neck, not his. The thought gives me a strange feeling of vertigo. This is Inuyasha, and yet it isn’t; he looks completely at ease in his school uniform, a book-bag slung over his shoulder—my Inuyasha would be tugging at the neckline and complaining about how he couldn’t breathe, trying to kick off the shoes the first chance he got, casting suspicious glances around him.

“You feeling alright?” he says slowly, frowning a bit.

I start to nod, then sigh, and shake my head. What’s the use? “I feel kind of dizzy,” I admit. Although it certainly isn’t for the reasons he thinks it is. “I should—sit down.”

He flicks his eyes over me, and his frown deepens. “Your knee’s bleeding,” he says. “Come on, let’s get you to the nurse.”

I glance down. Funny, I hadn’t even really realized I’d hurt myself. I suppose that’s what two years of traipsing around the forests of the Sengoku Jidai does to one. I’ve been bruised and battered more times than I can count.

“It’s okay,” I say, looking up—hey, where is everybody? With a sinking feeling, I cast a panicked glance at my watch. “Oh no!” I burst out, horrified. “I’m late! On the first date—day! Day!” Mortified, I give up and simply drop my backpack again, burying my face in my hands.

He chuckles with amusement, raising an eyebrow but not otherwise commenting on my little Freudian slip. “A few minutes more won’t make a difference. Besides, you know the first day is all bullshit anyway. Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter between my hands, still dazed. He can’t be Inuyasha. Can he be? He certainly cusses like him. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or run screaming for the hills. “I’ve made you late too. I’m sorry.”

“Hell, like I care. I’m not exactly here of my own free will, ya know.” He tugs on my elbow, and I’m dimly aware of him picking up my bag and leading me none-too-gently up the stairs and into the building. An expression crosses his face as he speaks that I have never seen on that face before—and the strangeness of it makes me shiver.

“But—it’s important—to get—an education,” I say, a little breathlessly, trying not to think about the times when I used the same arguments, to get Inuyasha to let me pass through the well into my own time. “Otherwise you can’t—get into—a good college—and get—a good job.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, slowing the pace a bit. “Well listen to Little Miss Perfect,” he smirks.

I glare at him. “Just because you don’t mind flipping burgers for a living doesn’t mean that I don’t mind, baka!”

He ignores me. “Here we are,” he says, opening a door labeled Nurse and tugging me through it. “Sit,” he says, dropping my elbow and pointing to a chair before leaning across the counter. “Hello?” he calls. “Where the fuck is everybody?” he mutters under his breath.

I roll my eyes. “The sign directly in front of your nose says that she will be back in fifteen minutes.”

He shoots me a glare and growls. Or did he growl? The sound, imagined or not, makes my stomach burst into butterflies.

Oh, Inuyasha…

“Well fuck this,” he mutters, and walks around the counter to start rummaging through the various cabinets.

I stiffen. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be back there,” I say nervously.

He snorts. “Well I’m not going to wait around for fifteen minutes for the nurse to come get you a Band-Aid.”

“You don’t have to stay,” I point out. “I’m fine.”

“Just shut up, Higurashi,” he sighs, fishing out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some cotton balls, and a large Band-Aid.

“Kagome,” I blurt out, cringing. “Call me Kagome.” I can’t stand hearing the boy I loved referring to me as if I was a stranger. The boy I loved… but not the boy I loved…. My throat tightens, as a sudden wave of claustrophobia washes over me. I need fresh air.

He shrugs, and kneels down in front of me. “Hold still,” he says, carefully dabbing at my nasty cut with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball.

“How’d you know my name was Inuyasha, anyway?” he asks after a moment, grimacing. “Only my parents call me that.”

I panic. “Uh—orientation?” I try, grasping at straws, hoping that his imagination will fill in the gaps for me. “It’s uh—an unusual name,” I add, for good measure.

His eyes darken. “My parents are uh—unusual people,” he mutters bitterly, mocking me ever so slightly, but he seems to accept my explanation.

I look down at the top of his head, bent in concern over my small injury even though he tries to hide it with his gruffness, and feel tears prickle at my eyes. It’s such a familiar sight; I can almost imagine that I’m sitting on a rock in the forest, instead of being surrounded by the sterile white walls of the nurse’s office.

He puts the bandage over the cut and glances up at me, offering a small smile of satisfaction.

I am swamped suddenly by the overpowering urge to fling myself into his arms again, to crush myself against his chest, feel his strong arms around me, inhale his scent—I wonder if he still smells of pine. When I hugged him before I didn’t have enough time to tell. So strong is the urge that I actually sway toward him, and have to grip the edge of my seat with white knuckles to keep from following through on my desires.

This is not Inuyasha. I tell myself firmly. His name is Yash. He goes to my high school. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t know me.

“There,” he’s saying to me. “Done.” Then his smile turns sly. “Unless you want me to kiss it better.”

I squeak. “Osuwari!” I blurt, and then clap my hands over my mouth.

Both his eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell did you just say?” he says, absently running a hand over his hair.

“Uh—haha! Nothing! Thank you!” I say nervously. “Well, nice meeting you Yash, I’d better get to class!”

“Not so fast—whatcha got first?” He holds my backpack just out of reach.

“Umm… history with Sato,” I say quickly, trying to grab it from him.

He grins. “Me too,” he says. “Isn’t that interesting. Come on,” he says, and sets off—with my bag.

I groan. I need to get away from him, so I can think. This is all just too awful to be a coincidence. But maybe it is.

Fate, after all, has a way of being cruel.

The knife in my chest twists deeper.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to run after him. He’s not really that much like Inuyasha, after all…I’m probably just imagining things. Yeah. Isn’t there a name for this? Seeing something because we subconsciously want to? Well I want to see Inuyasha again—not even subconsciously, either—so my brain naturally decides to try to be helpful. He probably really only looks a little like him, and I’m just imagining the rest. Just because he has the same name doesn’t mean anything. Besides, it’s not like I’ll have to see him all the time—if I’m lucky, I’ll only have the one class with him.

Of course, going by my luck so far today, he’d probably be in every single one.

o-o-o-o-o-o

I walk toward class, with Kagome half-running half-limping after me, yelling at me to give her back her bag. I’m tempted to, just to get her off my back, but I don’t want her to see my face quite yet. I’m totally furious at myself right now. What was I thinking…flirting with her? I don’t flirt. I mean, I’ve never really needed to—I guess I fall into that aloof mysterious type bullshit category girls seem to like so much. Plus my family is practically rich enough to buy Japan. And it’s not like any girl would ever want to be my serious girlfriend, not if she knew the truth. So why did I flirt with her? I was acting without thinking—stupid stupid stupid.

It’s just that it’s so easy to get a rise out of her… I… I miss having someone, a sibling to tease, I guess…

Oh, fuck. There I go again. Fucking hell. Quick, think about something else…think about Kagome…

Her response totally threw me off. At first she started to blush, but then I could have sworn she’d told me to sit. Like a dog. Not that my feelings were hurt or anything, of course not. I’m not that weak. But for a moment I was afraid that she’d somehow seen through my disguise… I knew that was impossible, even other youkai couldn’t see through it, but I’d checked my ears anyway.

Room 201. I blink. Here already?

Kagome lurches up beside me, panting. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair’s all messy. She glares at me, but it’s a weak glare, like she’d rather be smiling at me instead. I suddenly remember that hug she gave me.

Dammit, I thought I decided I wasn’t gonna think about that.

“Here,” I say to distract myself, and flash her my “cocky asshole” grin as I hand her her bag back. She takes it, turning up her nose at me, pushes open the door, and marches inside. I wait half a beat and follow.

“Kagome!” A few girls chorus happily as we enter. She waves surreptitiously at them, but she’s already bowing to the instructor, a big mean-looking bastard with bushy eyebrows who glares down his nose at her.

“Higurashi, you’re late.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” she says politely. “I fell and I hurt my knee. In—Nishimoto helped me. That’s why we’re both late.”

Belatedly, I bow as well, just the bare minimum. I don’t say anything.

Sato’s glare deepens. “I’ll let you off, just this once,” he finally says, like the words give him a toothache. “Don’t let it happen again.”

I roll my eyes, but Kagome looks like she’s ready to die of shame. “Yes, Sato-san,” she whispers. “We’re very sorry.”

Hey! Who told her it was okay to speak for me?

“You should be,” the instructor says smugly. “Every minute of class time counts. As it is, you’ve already missed partner assignments for the term project. Looks like you and Nishimoto are stuck with each other. Now sit down. You can get the assignment from one of your classmates later.”

Aw, shit. Don’t fucking tell me I’ve got to do a project with this spazzy girl, I think. I guess I could do worse, though. I sneak a glance at her, trying to see her reaction.

Kagome looks like she’s going to faint, but she manages to wander over to a seat in the second row over. I take the only other empty seat in the room—the one directly behind her—and immediately slump, leaning my head back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see several curious stares.

It’s gonna be a long first day.

o-o-o-o-o-o

“I don’t believe this,” I groan, burying my face in my hands.

“What’s wrong, Kagome?” Eri asks sympathetically from across the lunch table, pitching her voice loudly enough to be heard above the din of the cafeteria.

But I don’t have time to answer, because the ‘problem’ has already sauntered within earshot, laughing coolly at something with some of the popular guys. How did he manage to make friends so fast? I pray that he will keep walking, but no such luck.

“Hey, Kagome,” Yash says. “How’s life treating you?”

“Fine,” I snap. “Haven’t you tormented me enough today?” So far, he’s been in all my classes except one, and that was choir. And every chance he gets he makes me look like an idiot in front of the teacher, or smirks at me and makes me blush, or something.

His smirk doesn’t waver, but I see that flicker in his eyes again. My Inuyasha would have just yelled something right back at me, but Yash keeps his cool. For some reason, that just makes madder. Where does he get off, making me seem all—irrational?

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to rein in my anger. The pang of loss that my thoughts make me feel helps, dulling my emotions.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and sigh. “Actually, I’m having a terrible day.”

Ain’t that the truth.

He leans closer, his smirk widening, and whispers so that only I can hear him; “Want me to kiss it better?”

“Os—“ I stab myself in my leg with my fork underneath the table to keep myself from finishing the statement. What frightens me, though, is the fact that I want him to kiss me. Suddenly all my emotions from the day well up in me, as my tight rein on myself loosens. Sighing, I lean forward and rest my forehead on the table, feeling tears prick at my eyes again. I swallow the lump in my throat. If I could only have Inuyasha back with me, I’d never let that word pass my lips again. “Please, Yash, just leave me alone,” I say.

Mercifully, he says nothing. Then I hear him move away.

I want to go home, I think miserably. But home lies within the embrace of a certain inu-hanyou. I can never go home again.

“Oh…my…god…Kagome!” Eri, Yuka and Ayumi squeal together, after a safe time has passed. “He’s so hot!”

“It’s not fair,” Yuka pouts. “Kagome hogs the attention from all the hot ones.”

“Hey Kagome,” Eri says. “Whatever happened to that two-timing boyfriend of yours? Yash kinda looks like him, doesn’t he.”

I go rigid. “He’s dead,” I snap, and stand. “Excuse me.”

Eri, naturally, misunderstands, and nods wisely. “He broke up with her for good,” she whispers loudly to Ayumi. “Poor Kagome.”

Poor me, I think, as I run from the cafeteria and into the hallway, and keep running until there is no one else around me. I stick my head out the open window, filling my lungs with fresh air. Still, it isn’t as fresh as the air of the Sengoku Jidai.

Wave after wave of longing washes over me as I crumple where I stand, sitting against the wall and resting my forehead upon my drawn-up knees. I wrap my arms around my knees, hugging myself, feeling cold all over, like the cold of the grave.

o-o-o-o-o-o

I grit my teeth, confused. Mostly at my own actions. Tuning out the boring blather of the new “friends” I made, I glance across the cafeteria, towards where Kagome’s sitting with her three girlfriends—I’ve forgotten their names already. They’re talking about how hot I am, and I can’t help but grin a little. But Kagome, I notice, isn’t joining in… she’s just sitting there, silent, glumly prodding her food.

I shake my head. What is it about that girl that makes me act like such an idiot? I raised my eyes again to glare at her—Hey! Where the hell did she go!

“Hey, where you going, Yash?”

“See you in class,” I say absently, already moving toward the table where her three friends are still sitting. I’m careful not to get too close to the bubbleheads, just close enough to pick up her scent. I can feel their stares on me, an uncomfortable tickle between my shoulder-blades. Don’t make eye contact… Don’t make eye contact…

Kagome’s scent is laced with tears. Frowning a little, I follow it out of the cafeteria, and down the hall.

She’s sitting against the wall, curled up in a little fetal ball. I walk toward her, careful to make my footsteps loud enough so that she won’t be startled. It’s a habit of mine, to move silently. Instinct, really.

I come to stand next to her, leaning back against the wall, my thumbs hooked in my pockets. Kagome doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

“Look,” I say, and stop, clenching my jaw. I’m already regretting following her… it’s totally out of character for me, and it pisses me off that I don’t feel in control of the situation.

Still, I can’t help but feel guilty, like her distress is my fault.

This is all a huge fucking mistake, I think, and speak, with great effort. “I shouldn’t have teased you like that,” I mutter, making the closest thing to an apology I’m capable of. It’s not my fault that she’s so goddamn sensitive. I keep that to myself, though. I’ve got a big mouth, but it’s not that big.

Kagome goes still. Not that she wasn’t already just sitting there, but the normal little motions of a stationary person, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes—it all stops. “It’s okay,” she says in a small voice, and climbs to her feet, a careful distance away from me. She looks at me again, her eyes red-rimmed with tears. I don’t like that expression she’s got. It’s almost like she’s afraid of me.

Suddenly, she laughs, half-heartedly, and leans back against the wall next to me, imitating my own posture, her eyes closed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” she says bitterly, quietly—too quietly for normal human ears to hear.

I wonder briefly what’s bothering her, but there’s no question of asking her. “Cheer up,” I say dryly. “Only three hours to go.”

A tiny, wistful smile touches her lips, as she tilts her head back. The sunlight shining in through the windows slides across her features, highlighting her skin with gold. “Trust you to be counting down the hours,” she says wryly.

I blink at that, What the fuck? but don’t comment. “Whatever. See you around, Kagome.” I push off from the wall and take a step towards the cafeteria, only to find that she’s gripped my sleeve, holding me back. I twist around and raise an eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s just… I’m kinda dealing with a lot in my life, right now.” Her eyes are sad, but she forces a smile. “I just can’t… take much more. That’s all.”

I nod, focusing on tugging my arm free. We’ve all got problems, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear about hers.

“Look,” I say, and face her squarely, taking a deep breath. “I know we got off to a bad start, but if we’re going to have this presentation ready by the end of the quarter, we’re just going to have to get over it eventually, and move on.” Bad isn’t really the word, more like weird, but I’m not splitting hairs here. Really, all I care about is getting rid of this stupid guilty feeling.

“Deal,” she says, her eyes softening as she holds out her hand. “Why don’t we just start over? Hi, I’m Kagome Higurashi,” she chirps. “Nice to meet you.”

“You know my name,” I growl at her, but let her shake my hand Western-style anyway. She’s got calluses on her palms—momentarily I wonder what they’re from.

“Nice to meet you, Nishimoto Yash,” she says, smiling.

I smirk, about to one-up her on the whole charade she’s playing, but then I think better of it. So I just let the smirk speak for itself, and turn to walk back to the cafeteria.

“Well, see ya,” I say casually, giving her a little wave. She smiles and lifts her hand, watching me go.

Women.

o-o-o-o-o-o

He saunters off, cool as ice. He really is different than Inuyasha, I think, not even pretending to guess at the emotions that realization makes me feel. Inuyasha’s personality spilled out all over the place—it was always action before thought with him, and he was rarely capable of hiding his emotions. I loved that about him—that wild, raw honesty of self. I don’t see that in Yash. The abrasive edge Inuyasha possessed is more polished, smoothed over in Yash. His confidence seems easier, less aggressively defensive.

Yet I can’t help but feel that if I dug deep enough, I’d find that same vulnerability buried within him that Inuyasha had just beneath the surface. After all, he followed me out here to apologize—sort of—and he wouldn’t do that if he cared absolutely nothing about my feelings.

But I also recognize that I would take that action at surface value—an attempt to smooth things over between forced co-workers—from anybody else; it’s my previous experience with Inuyasha that makes me read this on a different level.

Damn, damn, and damn.

No one ever said life was easy, but sometimes I can’t help but feel as if my road is a little rockier than most.

As long as I focus on the fact that Yash is not Inuyasha (repeat five hundred times), I think I’ll be okay. Yeah. Okay.

Yeah.

Inuyasha, I miss you so much…

o-o-o-o-o-o

o-o-o-o-o-o