A Self Called Nowhere

No one knows these things but me and him



So I'm writing everything down in a spiral notebook



In the hopes that one day



Someone might feel as low as this



--They Might Be Giants





Kagome strolled through the empty museum, her heels clicking noisily on the highly polished marble floors. She gazed absently at a few of the displays as she passed them but nothing had really caught her eye. Nothing but case after case of old weapons, old armor, old scrolls and to just break things up...old pottery. It was perhaps the dullest place she'd ever set foot in and she wondered how they made any money. Stifling a yawn, she felt her mind turn in on itself again. There was a tinge of bittersweet emotion triggered by her recent reminiscences and no matter how hard she tried, that feeling just wouldn't fade away. So she gave up.



She let her feelings play out as she wandered from room to room, not particularly interested in anything at all. Her mother wasn't anywhere to be found and apparently the museum was much larger than it looked. Or so it seemed anyway. The place was absolutely labyrinthine and she realized with a flicker of aggravation that it could be hours--days even--before she found her mother...much less anyone else.



Suddenly, her idea of searching the museum by herself lost all its charm and appeal. She supposed that she could go down and enlist the museum staff to help her but she had never liked to make a fuss. Besides, it might be a labyrinth but she felt something tugging along. Her sixth sense was kicking in and it seemed to be in overdrive. Something inside this place was calling to her or she was calling to it. She wasn't sure which it was but she followed all the same.



Circuiting room after room with almost restless desperation, thoughts of finding her mother left her. In the back of her mind she really wanted to leave and her inward self kept whispering to her, begging her to just go. This wandering was pointless; she should stop and go downstairs. She should get museum security up here to help her. Maybe they could make some kind of announcement over the intercom. But the core part of herself, the one that controlled things didn't listen and it followed the pulsing beat, heedless of any warnings in her heart. She shouldn't continue forward, she shouldn't stay.



This place had brought back those feelings from so long ago. When she felt helpless and alone. Weak. Useless. And despite how far she'd come since then, she couldn't help but feel that way again. It was like she'd been sucked back into that younger self. As if time had folded in on her, pulling her back into the past and violently ripping her away from any future she tried to grasp.



God, she'd worked so hard not to feel this way. She'd practiced and hardened herself against it, but with just an afternoon's worth of remembrance all that work had been washed away. Disappearing into a well of discontent that she hadn't even known she'd had. Perhaps the past had left an endless well in her heart. A well she'd never quite leave and no matter how hard she tried to fill it, it was always there waiting for her. The empty deep called for her, trying to constantly pull her back to the person she once was.



That girl who loved everyone but herself...who was beloved and reviled...that girl who had enough friends to fill an entire room, yet still felt so empty and alone. A girl who knew all those things but never did anything to change her situation, instead she allowed herself to be used in hopes of being loved and cared for. The Higurashi Kagome of the past was always seeking a savior to solve her problems. She was a damsel looking for a hero, while pretending to play a part that didn't even belong to her. That Kagome was weak and naive.



The Kagome that faced the world today was nothing like that girl. She'd crawled from that well with her bare hands and she'd made herself over. Higurashi Kagome wasn't weak. She was a strong young woman, who'd carved out a place for herself by force of her own will. No one had helped her pick up the pieces. There were a few that had tried, but she hadn't let them. No, it was Kagome and Kagome alone who had hauled herself up out of that well. She stood on her own two feet to face a hostile and unforgiving world that had no place for a university drop-out.



Receiving no hand outs and few hand ups, Kagome had made her way and found a purpose for herself. She made a life that worked. A life that was lonely and sometimes a bit too melancholy for her tastes but it was hers. No one else's. It had been so hard, but she'd done it all by herself. And the only reason she was able to do that was by forgetting the past. She had never thought about the time before she literally crawled out of the well for the last time six years ago. To save her sanity and preserve what little self-respect she had left, she had to or at least, she'd tried to. She hadn't really wanted to remember...but this place. Something about it...It was like the museum had drawn it out of her.



Kagome grunted discontentedly, pretending to gaze at the displays and it wasn't working very well. It wasn't holding back anything as she'd hoped. Instead, it seemed to make her more contemplative and soon she felt the tide of memory overwhelming her. It crashed over the rocks...She closed her eyes, pressing them shut to try and stem the tide. The effort was futile. She tried to break away so she could leave, knowing that somehow it'd help. Her mind screamed at her feet to turn around. They could go downstairs. Call security. They'd find her mother and...



She froze. Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head slowly. The pulse she'd been following was stronger and her eyes wandered until they found something that finally caught her attention. It was located just off the main drag, hidden behind several larger exhibits, which was strange to say the least. Especially since the little case she'd found was so beautifully lit. It almost seemed as if it was waiting there for her, with all its little lights aglow against the dark atmosphere of the museum. As if the great goddess of the sun herself had chosen to illuminate this just to catch her attention.



Her eyes trailed from the lights down to the object they lit so brightly. In that display was a sword. That fact in and of itself wasn't so unusual. There were many swords housed in this museum but this had to be the only one that was broken. The shattered pieces of the sword lay neatly arranged on a swath of dark blue velvet. Someone had carefully pieced the sword back together so that it somewhat resembled its original shape. But you could still see thin stripes of the velvet underneath the sword so that there was no mistaking what had happened to it. One small piece had been upended to show a cross-section of the sword. Like a missing puzzle piece, she gazed from the cross-section to the gap in the blade where it belonged.



She was compelled to approach this display and now nothing warred within. Kagome was unable to stop herself even if she wanted to try. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and she felt an external pulse pull her forward in synchronization. Her feet dragged across the slick floor and as she closed in on the display, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Putting a hand over her chest, she tried to calm herself but her heart only beat more wildly. Her fingers dug underneath her shirt, finding the pendant that always hung there. She pulled the silver chain free and grasped the completed shikon in her trembling hand as if to reassure herself. Of what, she had no guess. The jewel was luminous and ever hovering with broken magic and shattered promises. Its light dimly slipped from between her the fingers of her closed fist, as if trying to escape her but it couldn't anymore.



The jewel was hers to protect, it belonged to her just as she belonged to it. At the height of its power the jewel had shone bright pink but it was bereft of that light now. Her wish had purified it and in granting her requests, the jewel had lost most of its strength. The only reason it showed any power now was due to its guardian and not the jewel itself. It merely reacted to her touch, her power. The shikon jewel was a dim shadow of what it had been. It should have disappeared. That was the problem. But something had gone wrong. Whether it was the wish itself or something else, no one would ever know. The jewel knew. It hadn't disappeared because it wasn't yet time to. The guardian still needed it. There were wishes yet to be granted and it would remain until it had finished the guardian's last request.



Kagome didn't know this and so she remained chained to her duty. Her life standing still as she doggedly protected the jewel from any who still sought it. Even as diminished as it was, the jewel still had power that could be tapped and she'd be damned before letting anyone twist it to their will. The shikon would remain pure as long as she lived.



Twisting the jewel between two fingers, she could feel it warm beneath her touch. It hummed with power and she could feel it pulse in time with her heart again, reminding her of the first time she fell. It felt like...like when Mistress Centipede had dragged her into the well for the first time. This was the start of something. The jewel wanted this, it had led her here and it wanted to show her...an old, broken sword? She was vaguely irritated by this but her curiosity was persuasive. The jewel pulsed. Things will change. She shook her head. But I don't want them to. It beat loudly against her chest. You have no choice. Clasping the jewel more tightly, she frowned, whispering out loud, "I don't care. I've had enough of change..."



But that didn't stop her feet from moving forever forward, inexorably. The sword loomed brilliantly in the dark and her hand lifted to touch the display, her fingers trailing lightly over the glass. Her dark eyes flickered over the encased sword, drinking in every detail. There was something accursedly familiar about it.



What is it that you want me to see?



It looked like Chinese long sword, though the style was obviously imitated. The blade was doubled sided and thin, slightly tapering as it met the hilt--an unusual detail in swords of these types. A true Chinese long sword wouldn't have that taper; the blade's shape would be uniform. This was Japanese made. Its handle was stockier and just a bit shorter than a Japanese katana and it was wrapped with a thin, black leather strap. Perhaps long ago that leather had been dyed but age had darkened it.



The pommel was made from a simple brass or gold ring, neatly capping off the handle. At one time a sash or tassel of some sort was probably attached to the pommel, but it had long since rotted away. Silk wasn't a sturdy fabric and it didn't weather time well. It had fallen away, along with the glory this sword must once have had. She was sure it used to be a beautiful weapon. It had once been loved...and now it wasn't. Just a cold, forgotten relic in a museum.



Fate had a terrible sense of humor.



She recognized the hand that made this sword, though not the sword itself. Kagome wasn't that ignorant little girl anymore who couldn't tell one sword from another. In the years between then and now, she'd spent her time studying the martial arts and its weaponry. She wasn't an expert by any means, but she had schooled herself to identify different kinds of weapons. Especially mystical or demonic weaponry.



This sword bore the mark of Kaijinbou. She'd recognize his brutal but simple technique from a mile away. The few swords he made that still existed would cause nothing but trouble. How had they come by it...and how had they subdued it so thoroughly? His swords bore a malice in them that was unmatched. She wondered idly which one it was. He'd only made a few before he died. She couldn't really tell which it might be as his swords had a sameness to them that was mind boggling.



In the back of her mind she sort of hoped it wasn't the one sword she thought it was. The one sword she knew for a fact Kaijinbou had made. There was only one way to know for sure. Even subdued, the sword would have a slightly malicious aura around it that was unique to the individual sword. That was really the only way to tell Kaijinbou's swords apart, anyway. She should have felt it already but it seemed to be curiously absent. Concentrating, Kagome consciously tried to feel it, narrowing her eyes to slits. There was nothing. This sword hadn't just been subdued; it'd been purified...completely. How?



And in the back of her mind she did a little happy dance. There was a chance, a chance it might not be what she thought it was because there was no way a certain demon she wouldn't name would allow his sword to be purified. And besides, the only person capable of completely purifying one of Kaijinbou's swords was...well...her. Kikyo might have been up to the task pre-wish, but post-wish...not so much. There was a placard underneath the display with a long explanation about the sword. She read it, not really hoping that it would have actual, useful information. Most human beings couldn't deal with the knowledge that demons really did exist. They block it out, grasping for less truthful but pleasantly reasonable sounding explanations for the unfamiliar. A demonic weapon like this would elicit confused curiosity and half-assed rationalization.



"This unusual sword dating from the Feudal Era is a fine example of early forging techniques. Made of high quality steel, this sword--"



"Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah." She whispered quietly, rolling her eyes as she skimmed ahead. "God, get on with it!"



"--An attempt was made by our restorers to re-forge the sword but they were met with constant failure. The experts we contacted were unable to adequately explain--"



"B-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oring." She thought to herself, skipping ahead a few paragraphs.



"--One expert commented, 'The gods wrought this sword asunder and only by their grace will it ever be whole again'..."



"Pfffffft. People are idiots." She mumbled, blankly reading the plaque with a discontented frown.



"This doesn't explain the perplexing issues regarding the inability to forge the sword anew. All tests on the sword have--"



It went on and on like that, and she felt herself becoming increasingly frustrated with the writer's ineptitude. She was looking for something, dammit, and all they were giving her were ludicrous suppositions. Kagome skimmed the rest of the plaque anxiously, barely understanding the words she was reading. There had to be something--anything--that'd give her a clue as to which sword this was. She had to know. Was desperate to know.



At the very bottom of the placard in miniscule letters, came the answer she was searching for.



Graciously donated to the museum by Higurashi, Masao, Higurashi Shrine...



Kagome paled and stared at the sword in slack jawed shock. Higurashi Shrine...it had their address and everything...Masao...Grandpa. The old fool had loaned this museum this sword. Her mind tried to come up with a why and a when but she was at a loss. Gods above! She loved the old man but he could be so dense! How had he gotten a hold of it? Why hadn't he told her! Did he even know what it was that he had?



She wasn't sure what she wanted to punch right now but the desire was unmistakable and hard to hold back. No doubt museum security wouldn't look kindly on her if she put a fist sized hole through the display case in frustration.



"Damn it." She hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers as she uttered a series of vile and barely audible curses under her breath.



Her mind swirled with unanswerable questions which all abruptly stopped. She blinked as numb comprehension filled the empty void the questions left. This sword was made by Kaijinbou, of that there was little doubt. It had been purified and it had been stored at her shrine. This sword was Toukijin. She didn't need any further confirmation. New questions formed in her mind and most of them she didn't necessarily want answers for. She broke out in a cold sweat, the beginnings of dread seeping to the surface. So, this was why the jewel had brought her here, though whether it had done this to answer her questions or raise more was up for studious debate. And Kagome wasn't feeling in a debating mood. Thinking in general seemed like a bad idea at the moment while leaving had gained a whole new appeal.



Why had it decided to show it to her? Why?



Was this the jewel's way of telling her to let go? Or was it just laughing at her, taunting her with her inadequacy as its guardian, reminding her of her mistakes and her ultimate weakness. Either way, it was cruel. Unnecessarily so.



You always assume the worst, Priestess.



What?



Remember...that's what we brought you here for...



The solid and comfortable walls of reality shuddered, bending the light around her as if shaken by the hand of god itself. She could feel the floor beneath her feet tremble, and the dull cracking of wood and stone. Kagome looked around wildly, half expecting an attack of some kind or perhaps the beginnings of an earthquake. The world around her warped and rippled in on itself, like a fleet of shimmering petals twirling around each other after being shed and tossed into a roiling river. She had always taken reality for granted and her oversight was more glaring than could be imagined.



Her mind's dim eye tried to struggle in vain with the magic that engulfed the tiny room in the museum. Instead of halting the spell cast around her, she hastened it. The shuttering void enveloped her and all that was and is and was not was the seeing world. She backed away from the encased Toukijin, becoming increasingly alarmed within herself. Her whole life she'd skirted the edge between madness and sanity, but something had obviously gotten the better of her this time.



The jewel in her hand flared a bright, violent pink. It was a fleeting demonstration of its full power, a last hurrah of sorts. There was one final wish it had to fulfill and this day was the culmination of years of waiting for just the right moment. Time and its passage had always had links to the jewel...it was its master and its tool. It had always had time and made time and now it was the last time. A single bell clapped, its sound ringing in her ears like a thousand voices all talking at once. Silence fell and then it rang again. Kagome covered her ears, hoping that if she couldn't hear it than whatever the jewel wanted wouldn't happen. Still silence fell and for a moment, she thought she might have succeeded.



The last toll was rung and time unfurled around her like the spinning rays of the sun. It illuminated the dark void, unraveling the reality around her and rewriting it to resemble the reflection of the past. Time spun backwards as memories long forgotten were dredged from the deep recesses of her mind. It was forcing her to remember. To experience the past as she had when it had first happened and though she struggled, the jewel's magic was far too potent.



Present day Tokyo broke apart, spilling out around her like a bag of marbles dropped on the playground pavement. That reality skittered out of her reach, spiraling away from her as if drained away by the past. Images of the feudal era took their place, flickering to life with the force of a million brilliant candles. They assaulted her, wrapping themselves around her in an effervescent embrace that was as life giving as it was soul destroying. Her eyes fluttered. Her mind reeled and she could no longer fight the ribbons of magic that surrounded her. She gave herself over to the pulse of time, loosing herself in the shadowed mirrors of the past.



Blue light engulfed her small figure, made brighter as it glowed between the slats of time. It was rippling light between the simple darkness of a closed window shade. The shikon was magic made of the crashing tide. Of coursing rain. It would not be denied as it shuttled its guardian backward. Spinning further and further away, she was the tremulous moon to its sun. She had put logic and reason aside and embraced madness or what she believed to be madness, exchanging all that she knew to be real for the hypnotic pulse of the past.



The spiraling shape of indistinct forms and images curved around each other and like a wrinkle in time, they straightened themselves out. Reality reordered itself, while voices began to chant around her endlessly. They spun in the same direction as the shape and she followed it unwillingly. Abruptly they coalesced into a single voice that was tinged with something that sounded a bit like concern. In the back of her mind, she almost recognized it, though it had been six years since she last heard it. The familiar voice called her name but she didn't want to hear. Covering her ears wasn't working, so she decided that maybe if she worked at her temples it'd go away. She wasn't sure why it would go away if she did that...



"Kagome?" questioned the voice.



She wasn't going to answer to it. If she didn't acknowledge the voice, then it wasn't there and if it wasn't there...then...it wasn't there. It was as simple as that.



"Kagome?" It queried again, this time with more worry evident in its tone.



"Mmmmrff...Go away..." She grunted, desperately.



It was with much annoyance that she recognized the voice was female...and a friend.



"Kagome?"



"No..." She mumbled back at it.



"Kagome!" The voice all but shouted, as if that would get her attention.



It did but she only shut her eyes tighter. She didn't want to hear it. Didn't...



"KAGOME!"



A hand shook her shoulder and she finally opened her eyes. Her hand was still lingering at her temple as she blinked away the sun, which was blindingly bright. Several things were apparent to her. One--She had a terrible headache. Two--Her mind appeared to be mired in some kind of horrible mental fog and she found it terribly hard to think. Shaking her head, she felt the cobwebs ebb away and from the mist, Sango's befuddled face appeared. The demon slayer gazed at her friend with true worry, her hand still gently grasping Kagome's shoulder.



"Kagome...are you alright?" She asked slowly, tilting her head to punctuate her confusion and her concern.



The young priestess nodded and smiled weakly, forcing her hand from her throbbing temple. She had to look like everything was okay, even if it wasn't.



"Yeah, I'm fine." She replied lamely in a high, breathless whisper, "Just have a bit of a headache..."



It wasn't a total lie, after all.



Sango frowned but nodded, though she was clearly displeased with the answer. It wasn't like Kagome was hiding her problems very well and she'd never seen the need for it. She seemed to think her problems were such a bother to everyone else, when they really weren't. It was her penchant for NOT telling them about it that was. Sighing, Sango knew better than to press the issue. No matter how fake Kagome's smile was. Sooner or later, she'd spill the beans. It was only a matter of time. Besides, she'd always admired Kagome for not being the kind of girl who complained about everything. It was one of the ways they were alike, a commonality that bound her to the young priestess as not just a friend, but a sister.



"Well...if you're sure." Sango replied uncertainly.



Kagome nodded again with a bit more vigor. It didn't fool her friend in the least. The demon slayer tipped her head solemnly in reply before walking back towards Kaede's hut to continue packing for the trip ahead. Kagome watched her go, trying very hard to keep it together. She couldn't afford to worry her friends than they already were--she was worried enough for herself as it was. It had been two days since the cemetery incident. Sango had just shown up a few moments ago and she had been quickly brought up to speed. It had taken a nanosecond for the demon slayer to decide that she'd help Sesshoumaru...which came as a great surprise to just about everyone.



Being a demon slayer, she almost always argued against helping youkai who were a danger to humans. And the great Western Lord fit quite nicely into that category. So Miroku and Kagome had steeled themselves for an argument and felt cheated when none was given. Once all the cards had been laid on the table, she pretty much had no questions about what she should do. Naraku hurt Sesshoumaru and killed his ward. Hence Naraku becomes Sesshoumaru's enemy and any enemy of Naraku was a friend of hers. The added incentive to help the daiyoukai was that his ward was a human girl. This showed that he was a youkai that wasn't completely irredeemable and thus helping him wouldn't break the slayer's code.



In any event, Kagome was glad she wouldn't have to argue with Sango about it, because she was frankly much too tired. Kagome stretched a bit and sighed, kneeling down to continue to fill a basket with herbs for Kaede's use. The elderly priestess was getting far too old to do this kind of work and Kagome had helpfully volunteered. She now regretted it but only because she hadn't slept well at all. In fact, she felt an all over sense of fatigued restlessness that wouldn't leave her no matter how hard she tried. The morning sun warmed her stiff back as she worked and though it was enjoyable, she kind of wished she could crawl back into the hut and sleep a bit longer. Even if it meant risking Kaede's disapproval, she was exhausted. And she would have done it too, but for the fact that Sango and Miroku were in there right now discussing their travel plans for the next couple of days. She could faintly hear their voices as they liltingly escaped the confines of the hut. The sound was muffled by distance and the silent ambient wind that pushed lightly around her.



They were whispering.



Why were they whispering?