After Midnight

DISCLAIMER: Rumiko Takahashi owns Inuyasha and all of it’s characters. I just to get to play with them.


Chapter 1:
50 Years Later


Kagome found herself pulled to consciousness quickly. Years in the Sengoku Jidai had taught her that grogginess was detrimental to self-preservation. Even with the evil hanyou gone, and the threat to her being greatly diminished, it was best to be bright eyed and bushy tailed when she opened her eyes.

She expanded her senses in search of any unwelcome presences in her vicinity. Finding nothing more threatening than a squirrel, she peeled back the tattered top of her sleeping bag and darted a glance at her companion.

Shippou lay snuggled on his side. No more than an indefinable lump within his burgundy bed roll. A shock of brilliantly orange hair tumbled from within its confines clashing garishly with his bag in the morning light.

Kagome scooted toward their stack of wood and found a suitable amount of kindling to throw on the sluggish embers of their campfire. The chill breeze of the spring morning wrap itself around her exposed midsection as she stretched. Her back popped in a satisfactory manner and she stifled her groan.

It would not do to wake a growing kitsune so early.

Unwrapping the remnants of the previous night’s meal she made a quick breakfast of fish and rice. The aroma awoke her demon companion.

“Okaa-san,” Shippou mumbled as he peeked his head out of his sleeping bag.

Kagome bent over the two bowls in front of her, “Morning Ship.”

With a silky rustling Shippou slithered his way out of his confines hissing as the cool air hit his skin. He took the bowl proffered to him and raised the chopsticks even as his eyes struggled to focus.

They ate in silence, enjoying the morning sounds of the forest, the crackle of the fire, and the dull clack of eating utensils.

Kagome looked up at her son. ‘So tall now,’ she mused with a whimsical smile. When first pulled through the well Kagome didn’t have a clue about how demon’s aged. It had been Sango who had initially explained it to her, and boy had she been shocked when she discovered how old Inuyasha was. She had almost fallen over when she realized he was over two-hundred years old.

This naturally lead to a discussion of how old her adopted kitsune was, and the miko from the future had learned her kit looked his age, for the time being. Her son’s physique would remain child-like until he reached the human equivalent of puberty, around his fifteenth year. At that point his body would change rapidly until he took on the appearance of a teenager. Then, around his fiftieth year he would hit another growth spurt, and his body would take on the contours of a mature male.

Shippou now stood almost a head taller than his mother. His shoulders had broadened and his face had lost the roundness of a child’s. The kitsune’s lithe build belied his strength. Deadly claws tipped his fingers, and his fiery hair hung down between his shoulder blades in a low ponytail.

Kagome felt a mother’s pride swell in her chest. Despite his rocky beginnings in life her son had grown into a wonderful male.

“I’ll take these to the river, Mama. I need a bath anyway.”

Kagome wrinkled her nose. “You certainly do,” she teased.

Shippou whacked her on the arm softly. “It’s too early to play, Mama.” His emerald eyes glittered in the early morning light.

Kagome simply smiled back at him impishly as she handed over her bowl.

The kitsune took in her face, noting her flashing blue eyes, the gilded raven tresses, the way the lines formed at the corners of her mouth never seemed to stick. For a moment his thoughts drifted to the irate hanyou they had left behind. He scowled and shook himself.

Taking her dish he disappeared into the tree line in the direction of the stream.

‘He doesn‘t matter now,’ he told himself, but unfortunately he was never very good at lying.

Kagome kicked dirt over the remaining fire, waving the smoke from under her nose as she turned to roll up her sleeping bag. Something had nagged at her for the past three days. That same something was the reason she found her and her kit here, a day outside the boundaries of Inuyasha’s forest.

‘Inuyasha,’ she fisted her hands in the soft material of the bed roll, ‘are you still angry with me?’

As she finished packing an unwelcome aura hit her like cold water in the face. Her back straightened so forcefully her muscles groaned in protest. For a moment she paused, tracking the dark energy as it maneuvered through the thicket. Hoping it wouldn’t come their way, she held her breath. When it turned in her direction she caught an unmistakable flash of malevolence.

With deft movements she retrieved her bow from near her pack, threw the quiver over her shoulder and threaded an arrow. She rose, still clad in her nightclothes, barefoot, in the center of their camp.

The aura shifted left, then right, as if attempting to discern the best direction to approach the lone woman.

She was glad that it was Shippou’s turn for dish duty.

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When Shippou reached the river he placed the two sets of chopsticks and bowls onto the ground.

Spring had swelled the waterway from mountain runoff and the mists clinging to the land had left the banks soggy. He took a moment to inhale the scents of mud and new growth. It lifted his mood, and he could tell that though his mother was human, what little filtered into her nose caused in her the same buoyancy of spirit.

He had felt stretched tight in his skin for the past six months. It was as much a side effect of his accelerated growth as it was being away from the rest of the Inu-tachi.

Today, though, was different. Today he felt like the husk had split. His extremities felt liquid and smooth as he kneeled in the soft dirt.

As he rinsed the first bowl he couldn’t help but wonder if this newfound ability to move was a boon or a curse. After all, when his mother found herself finally able to move freely, it had turned out to be both.

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48 Years Ago

Shippou watched Kagome move her things from the shelves in their hut to the brown deer skin satchel Kaede had given her.

She was crying.

It was silent, and he didn’t think she was aware of the streams running down her cheeks, but the twist of her lips spoke volumes about why she was upset.

“You can stay here,” she sniffed, “with Sango and Miroku, and Kikyo and” she hiccupped, “Inuyasha.”

She turned her back with the pretense of grabbing the last bottle of shampoo from the corner shelf, but Shippou saw her sleeve dash frantically across her eyes.

“Okaa-san,” he asked in a tentative whisper, “don’t you want me with you?”

Her shoulders slumped away from him, and for a moment he felt rejected. Then she whirled around, swept him up in her arms, and held him in an embrace so tight it seemed desperate.

“Of course I do,” her blue eyes burned down into his emerald and her hand held his cheek. “I’m just worried. I’m-,” she faltered and dropped her voice into a ragged whisper. “I’m just worried.”

He raised his little paw up to her hair and ran his claws through it. “Don’t be worried, Okaa-san.” His wide green eyes peered up at her.

He didn’t ask why she had to leave. He knew, had known, for over a month what was coming.

Kikyo was pregnant.

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At the time he hadn’t been concerned about why she was worried. It had only mattered to him that she stopped. He had thought that her heartache and trepidation was a result of the physical manifestation of what she had known all along; Inuyasha would never be hers.

Looking back he could see what his younger self couldn’t.

It had been that and so much more.

She had known the repercussions of her wish upon the jewel. Had known perhaps since the day after the battle when everyone awoke to find their injuries were healed.

When Sango gave birth to her and Miroku’s first child, Kagome had realized the full horror of her actions. It had taken over a year for her to believe the couple when they told her that she had done nothing wrong. Kagome accepted their view and dropped the subject, but eventually the guilt and her life in the village became something she could not bear.

The day after Kagome found out about Kikiyo’s pregnancy they had left.

No matter the fact that Kikyo and Inuyasha had been mated for two years. Those two years immediately following Naraku’s downfall. He knew their relationship had still stung the young miko, and Inuyasha’s behavior had been the final straw.

Inuyasha would hover around Kagome, scaring off any male who showed interest. He made sure nothing touched her, and all the while Kagome needed something, anything to touch her.

Shippou finished the dishes and disrobed on the banks, stepping into the cold water. He ducked his head and ran his claws through his hair roughly, using the bar of soap to wash his locks. He shivered as he moved to scrub his torso.

He recalled the two years of fake smiles from Kagome. The battles of wills that she and Inuyasha went through about the smallest of things. Things that should not have been any of his business.

He remembered how Kagome, who once thrust the largest evil in Japan through the gates to the underworld was forced to fight a self-absorbed hanyou for the simple right to take a walk not fifty yards from her front steps.

Where once Shippou had delighted in such spats, looking back, he couldn’t help but see how much they had damaged her.

Sango and Miroku knew why she was leaving. They understood. Kagome had needed to get away, both from Inuyasha and the village, in order to deal with her remorse.

Shippou could see it in her eyes now and then. It was a dimness that swept over her. In the early years it had manifested as mild insomnia and Kagome would spend those sleepless hours training. There were many times when he would awaken to his mother spinning a blade to the side of their camp.

The kitsune grew to prefer the wilds. He enjoyed the traveling, aiding those individuals or villages that would cross their path. Sometimes they stayed in one place for a few years, but his mother would always grow restless. Shippou found he grew restless as well. Oddly enough the one time he had felt complete peace was the year they had spent at Sesshomaru’s castle, and that had been a year of solid war.

Shippou rinsed the soap from his body, wondering if his mother had felt the same. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a scream.

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It was still dark in the Western Lands when Sesshomaru slid back the ornately carved wooden doors of his bedchamber. It was not his normal hour to rise, but he had been unable to find much peace as of late.

He made his way from the far West end of his palace down the long corridor toward his study. Periodically he passed one of the large tapestries or a granite support column inlaid with Inu-youkai in their true forms. His gaze caught on the many arrangements of flowers strategically placed along the hall. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

‘Rin.’ Even fully grown, the girl loved flowers.

The torches that burned in the courtyard and around the fifty-foot high outer wall cast the only light in the palace grounds. Soldiers patrolled around the perimeter, the shuffle of their steps against the cobblestones breaking the stillness.

He reached his study and slid open the shoji screen. After lighting the lamp just inside the door he made his way over to his desk and settled himself comfortably on a cushion. Sesshomaru cast a glare at the pile of missives in front of him.

Normally he would have relished the opportunity to delve through the boring pieces of parchment. It was like meditation. While reading over the summaries from his different advisors on crop yields, general wellness of the population, and the few invitations to lordly functions, he could simply zone out. Now, however, he was required to scan through them with a critical eye.

It was the damn Southern Lord’s fault, and if Sesshomaru could prove it he would behead the bastard. Over the slim years the young youkai had ruled, after the mysterious downfall of the previous Lord, the Southern ruler had gone from a nuisance to a threat.

It felt like he was dealing with Naraku’s apprentice, as they both had a penchant for trickery and manipulation. The last year had brought Sesshomaru more and more frequent accounts of villages on his lands being raided.

At first he had increased his patrols, searching for rouge youkai or bandits. Then he had sent small bands of soldiers to protect the outlying towns. The attacks had stopped for awhile, but the culprits were not apprehended.

Six months ago the raids had picked up again. A particularly vicious attack on a settlement of Badger youkai near the Southern borders had left few survivors and Sesshomaru had gone to investigate in person.

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5 and 1/2 Months Ago

The village was still in flames when the demon Lord landed. Such carnage had not been seen in many years. Even in the days of Naraku, the demolished villages had held a sterile feel. This, however, was full of blood, soot, and pain, as if the perpetrators had raped the very land. Nothing from the Earth stood. The stone streets themselves crumbled under the heat.

An inu-youkai soldier, no older than 150 summers, addressed him. “Lord Sesshomaru,” his voice was shaky as he bowed.

The weight of the Lord’s golden gaze settled upon the hapless youth.

“The Captain has sent me to escort my Lord to the command post;” he gulped audibly as the daiyoukai glared at him.

‘How disrespectful,’ the demon Lord quipped to himself. ‘The Captain’s life shall depend on his reason for failing to meet this Sesshomaru.’ He watched the soldier turn and take a few steps before glancing back to see if his Lord was following.

“My Lord?” The soldier asked hesitantly.

Sesshomaru had paid no heed to the youth and instead turned to survey the village. He sniffed the air a bit, attempting to catch scent of the attackers, but his nose was clogged with smoke. After a moment he noticed he was not alone. The inu-youkai private stood to the side, eyes averted, as he seemed to gather his courage.

“Speak.”

The youkai’s eyes snapped up to Sesshomaru’s and he took a deep breath. “The South, my Lord,” he said quietly. The look the daiyoukai gave him suggested that he should finish his explanation quickly. “They had no scent, but they were shadow youkai in the uniforms of the Southern Lands.”

“Foolishness,” a voice rang from behind them.

Sesshomaru turned to see the Captain approaching them all the while glaring at the young soldier.

“My lord,” the captain bowed low. “I beg your forgiveness for my inability to meet with you when you arrived. I was attending to the fortification of our defenses.”

The demon Lord brushed the apology aside. It was obvious the Captain had no sense. What purpose would there be in attacking an already decimated village? “Report,” Sesshomaru commanded in a chill monotone.

“We were attacked by shadow youkai in the garb of the Southern Lands. That much is true, but I refuse to believe that Lord Naboru would be arrogant enough to start a war with the Western Lands. He could not possibly win.” The Captain’s lips tightened in annoyance.

“Hn.” Sesshomaru dragged his eyes across the remnants of the village, noting the high angular splatters of blood against the remaining walls. “It is arrogant to believe that because he could not win he would not try.”

The Captain acknowledged the dangerous tone of the inu-daiyoukai’s voice and immediately began backpedaling. “Of course my Lord,” he stuttered bending deeply at his waist, “please forgive me my assumptions. The matter shall be investigated thoroughly.”

Sesshomaru nodded once before turning to leave the village. He paused in his steps, his voice rumbling back to the ears of the Captain. “Do not displease me again.”

Before the, now shaking, Captain found himself once again able to form words, his Lord had disappeared.

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Almost six months later and still Naboru could not be concretely linked with the attacks. Sesshomaru was beyond frustrated, not only with the whelp in control of the South, but also with the Northern Lord. With the West and East both having encounters with what appeared to be Southern soldiers, but Naboru denying his involvement, it would take a majority decision of the four lands to instigate war. Unfortunately the Northern Lord preferred sake to politics and was happy keeping his opinion to himself in the matter.

In a very un-Lordly display Sesshomaru groaned, and laid his head in his arms. He couldn’t find it in himself to go back to sleep. It was in times such as these that he admitted to himself that he missed Rin. Her presence could sooth him when no others could, her and her daughters’.

It would be days yet before they returned to The Palace Moon. Alone, sensing the first stirrings of the world that signified dawn’s approach, Sesshomaru allowed himself to be eager for their arrival.

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AN:

Indigo: I bet you’re all wondering why Kagome is still alive. Or at least still alive and not like 70 years old and wrinkled. Well, that will be explained later. I’ve already hinted at it.

Kagome: ::jogs by looking 20 while being followed by a herd of AARP members::

Indigo: I hope I’m not getting too confusing with the timeline. I realize with the 50 year jump and then all the references to different years without the information for those years things can get aggravating for a reader. But! I promise if you keep reading eventually everything will be explained.

Kagome: I have a question. What’s the deal with Kikyo? Is she alive? Like not living dead alive?

Indigo: I know, I brought it up. I haven’t answered it yet...and it might not get answered until I feel like dealing with the whole jewel thing. I’m trying like hell to balance current happenings with explanations of the past.

If you have suggestions or comments you know the drill.

Without further adieu, Preview!

Chapter 2: The Coming Storm

The demons attention shifted a split second before Kagome’s. There were more energies approaching. Small auras, hanyou auras. They were moving quickly toward the clearing and behind them was the pull of five more mid-grade youkai.

‘Soldiers,’ was Kagome’s horrified thought before she loosed her arrow.