Book One, Scene One
Book One, Scene Two
Book One, Scene Three
Book One, Scene Four
Book One, Scene Five
Book One, Scene Six
Book One, Scene Seven
Book One, Scene Eight
Book One, Scene Nine
Book One, Scene Ten
Book One, Scene Eleven
Book Two, Scene One
Book Two, Scene Two
Book Two, Scene Three
Book Two, Scene Four
Book Two, Scene Five
Book Two, Scene Six
Book Two, Scene Seven
Book Two, Scene Eight
Book Two, Scene Nine
Book Two, Scene Ten
Book Three, Scene One
Book Three, Scene Two
Book Three, Scene Three
Book Three, Scene Four
Book Three, Scene Five
Fiction
vr 3.00
2008-02-16
"Good Twin, Evil Twin" by Abraxas | 2006-03-10
Book Two, Scene One
Electric eyes opened and deep, long breaths followed – a stretch, a yawn – Inuyasha blinked and little by little the world came back into focus. He was inside his attic lair, on the floor by the hatch, attacked by the cold, bitter air. The hideaway was and would be always unheated – un-cooled – the price to be paid for complete and total anonymity. It was bright, too, as along the walls of the room the slit windows were aglow with the redness of the predawn sun.
And it was quiet, impossibly quiet.
He stood, holding the scabbard and sword in his left and right hands. The Tetsaiga. Totosai sharpened its blade that way it could be used like an ordinary samurai weapon. Useful through changing times, it was the best of both worlds: able to dispatch enemies with the least amount of unwanted attention and able to wield all of its attacks when necessary.
He walked into the bathroom, a mess of sheetrock and tile. It was supposed to be an abandoned warehouse and the haphazard lair did not escape that unfinished ‘look’. He splashed water onto his face, into his eyes. He looked at his reflection through the shattered glass of the broken mirror: despite the five hundred years since he met Kagome he looked, more or less, unchanged. Maybe a little older around the eyes. Maybe. Demons did not age as fast as humans but half-demons aged twice as fast as full-demons. One feature was different: he kept his hair shoulder length and spiky because it masked his ears.
Finished, relaxed, he donned a baseball cap and another, red jacket – he possessed a closet full of red jackets and black outfits, endlessly repeating the same uniform time after time.
Inuyasha was momentarily safe-and-sound. The thugs that followed him into the warehouse, who or what ever they were, had not been smart enough to locate the entrance of his den. Nevertheless, just by observing him entering, that simple small act lead invariably into danger. Even if the two were not demons, it leads inexorably into disaster. Naraku’s influence extended, however marginally, into the human world and he was not beneath exploiting zombies, drug-addicted and mindless, using them to do his dirty work. He knew what they knew thus he felt it would be necessary to find a new, private lair and soon too. He imagined there would be little time.
Inuyasha understood too well the art of blending, of hiding out in the world. He had spent the better part of his life keeping away from demons and humans alike who hated him because he had been born different. Then and now he kept a low profile but this time it was for another reason all together: to protect Kagome from what contact with him wrought. Naraku’s eyes watched everything; with agents and minions that patrolled everywhere throughout the city and the country. No one could be trusted except, of course, friends whose families he knew and protected for centuries and other demonic allies whose identities like his own were tightly-guarded secrets.
And there was a time he could have been allied with his brother, Sesshoumaru. But after the war, when he could not find Rin – whom he kept alive through less-than-natural means – he, too, vanished. Maybe he grew tired of the world demons and humans destroyed and followed her out of it; maybe he dwelt within it, still, hoping for her return and searching for her spirit among the land of the living. But for the past sixty almost seventy years he battled without him, not that even when they were together they were the best of friends. They had two, very different views about the world and how to deal with it and they clashed with each other more often than with their enemies.
He was alone, that was that, and he functioned well alone. He could have been happy alone were it not for Kagome. If they got anywhere near each other it would be doom. In feudal Japan he was free to do what he wanted when he wanted. But in modern Japan he was restricted. Activity curtailed. Movement chained. Thanks to his appearance.
Eyes could be tinted, ears could be cropped, claws and teeth could be filed. Tails could be amputated. And other, subtle imperfections could be masked through surgery. But he would not be changed to conform to general notions of beauty and desirability. Accepting himself the way he was had taken a great deal of time and courage all of which he had gained from his love of Kagome and her love of him. Now the things about himself she fought him to accept were the very things that impeded him from saving her.
Kagome! he thought and sighed.
Inuyasha produced a cell phone. It was an instrument Shippo created and guaranteed to be untraceable. From memory, for it was imperative not to leave records of any kind, he dialed an automated answering service through which he communicated with Hojo.
He checked and found there were no messages – the last he heard of Hojo it was about Kagome not coming to meet him for a movie-date but he checked with her parents and she was at the temple sick, uneasy.
“Hojo, if you watched the news last night you know about a killer that's stalking girls fitting Kagome’s description. The killer’s after Kagome – I know it – keep your eyes on her.
Don’t let her out of your sight. But – just do what you do. It’s important. Also, I’m changing my address, I’ll keep you informed.”
He removed the cell phone.
The half-demon knew Hojo’s ancestors and, mostly because of Kagome’s insistence, kept close ties with them through the years. As with Miroku’s lineage, familial relationships were passed down from one generation to the next. After Kagome – the Kagome of the past – was no longer a part of his life he was comforted by the idea that in the future they were fated to meet again. But when Naraku’s power became a thing to be avoided, his human allies – and Hojo’s family in particular – became his best, most direct link to the Kagome of the future.
Of course, he did not tell his friends what he knew about the future – really, after that day when Kagome did not return and he could not go through the well, what he knew about the future was painfully very little. And he did not tell Hojo just what was happening inside the temple. What he said was that he promised her father to protect her and watch her. But, for obvious reasons, he could not be following her. That was why he asked him to keep an eye on her when she was at school. When she was not at home.
Inuyasha knelt by the hatch and listened – the warehouse was so cavernous, so empty, the slightest noise within seemed to be impossibly magnified by the silence that enshrouded its facilities like a kind of fog. He opened the vent. He crawled through the passage on hands and knees, his weapon clutched by the grip of his teeth. He reached the end of the tunnel and saw from above the catwalks and the platforms of the interior of the building below.
If those two thugs were there he was going to deal with them.
END OF SCENE
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