Blind by FireFalcon1414

Disclaimer: I do not own, in whole or in part, the Inuyasha series. All rights belong to Takahashi Rumiko. Kisaragi Koharu and Fukuzawa Yukichi are actual Japanese authors and not of my fabrication.

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Chapter 3: Winter 2004 to Autumn 2005

It is for your sake
That I walk the fields in spring,
Gathering green herbs,
While my garment's hanging sleeves
Are speckled with falling snow.
--Emperor Koko

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I was sick that winter: not deathly so, but sick enough to be more miserable than necessary considering my condition. I was nauseous, easily tired, and had a fever of 103 degrees. Moreover, to make matters worse, my mother would not leave my side for the first week – a fact that would have made me happy a few months ago, now an annoyance as it meant I had no visits from my secret friend. It was understandable why she did not want me to be alone; apparently, I had been delirious for the first couple of days.

I do not remember much of that, but my mother briefly told me that I had not called out for Inuyasha and the others, as I had the last time I had been severely ill, but for someone named “Keiji,” who she did not know. She asked me about where I would have heard of this person, but I shrugged it off as something I had heard on the radio.

Luckily, she had to leave after that week to go to work, and I was left happily alone. “Keiji!” I exclaimed gleefully when I felt his presence in the room. I rose up my arms expectantly of a greeting, but in reply, I felt him push me back down into the mattress and tucking my blankets around me.

“You are ill. Stay in bed,” he ordered.

I pouted. “You haven’t visited in forever, and now you won’t even give me a proper greeting!” I complained noisily.

I heard his sigh, but grinned when I felt a large hand come to settle atop my head. “I am going to the library to get a book. I will return shortly.”

“Okay!” I chirped. He left and returned as he had promised, sitting beside me on the bed and allowing me to curl up around him with my head in his lap for warmth. His hand settled in my hair, and he was about to begin reading when I interrupted him.

“You know, you are very agreeable when you are in ‘mother hen mode’,” I commented.

He snorted. “You would prefer I pushed you off of me?”

“No, but you probably would if I were healthy.”

“I would politely ask you to remove yourself.”

“Same thing.”

He paused, then said, “You are very delicate.”

It was my turn to snort. “Now, maybe; but you should’ve seen me when I had my sight! I was running all over the country, fighting dangerous battles and taking care of my friends’ wounds and not getting sick.”

“You were probably hiding behind big rocks, as opposed to fighting; shoving painkillers down your friends’ throats until you could find a trained healer, as opposed to healing; and getting sick as often as you do now.”

I scowled, severely irked at his accurate guesswork. “Start reading! What book is it this time?”

*** *** ***

He continued in his “mother hen mode” for the rest of my illness, letting me lean on him and bringing me meals in my room. The entire first day I was up and about the house again he followed me around like my shadow, insisting that I lay down or at least sit quietly in the library, asking if I was feeling at all tired or hungry. I brushed him off every time, wandering the house with my “ghost” in tow, seeing how long I could go without losing my breath.

He eagerly took any offered opportunity to usher me back into the library or my room and read to me until my mother came home and ushered me just as eagerly back to bed. I had not one caretaker with a “mother hen” complex, but two! I could not escape them, so I had no choice but to allow myself to be ushered here and there and spoon-fed herbal soups and teas at every mention of needing substance. By the time another week had passed, I was in dire need of solid food, and welcomed it with open arms and a more widely open mouth. Of course, as my health returned, Keiji’s “mother hen” complex dissipated, and with it went his willingness to allow prolonged contact with me. I must admit to being sorry at having to say goodbye to it.

Time passed, as it often will, until springtime came again, and with it that eagerly awaited date of my birth. Souta bugged me endlessly about what I wanted for the day, until I eventually told him to get me some new books. He was confused by this – understandably – but I explained that I enjoyed being read to, and he went along with it. I told my mother the same thing, and she, being a mother, took it the wrong way, apologizing profusely for not being around more often to read aloud to me and spend time with me, and explaining that she really couldn’t be around any more often because of work, but I shouldn’t be afraid to ask her to read to me if she was ever at home, et cetera, et cetera. I smiled and nodded, letting her think what she would.

When Keiji asked me what I wanted, though, I just smiled and said something silly. “I want the sky to fall,” I told him once. “I want to go dancing,” “I want to feel grass between my toes,” and “I want to smell water,” were also favorites. I laughed when I said them.

The day did come, and my mother and brother gave me their gifts that morning before leaving for work and school, respectively. My mother had gotten me the latest book by Kisaragi Koharu, a well-known drama writer. As she read the back of a book – which I could not help imagining as having a pink cover – to me, I couldn’t help thinking sarcastically that Keiji would really have fun with this one. From Souta, there was a book on philosophy by Fukazawa Yukichi of the late 1800s, which seemed much more like something my daily companion would enjoy. I hugged them both, thanking them for their gifts before sending them off to their daily destinations to do the piles of paperwork I knew awaited them there.

Once my family was gone, I took my newest possessions with me to the library, where I sat in my chair and felt the differences in their covers. Both were paperback, and of recent print, but one of them still managed to feel old to me… I assumed this to be the one by Fukuzawa, and the other by Kisaragi.

I started at the sound of my companion seating himself in the armchair across from my own, not having heard his entrance, and grinned at him. My grin transformed into a scowl when he remained silent. “What? No ‘Happy birthday, Kagome!’ for the birthday girl?” I said grumpily. He snorted, and I got up and tottered over to him to lean against the arm of his seat. “Well?” I asked, changing tactics. “What did you get me?”

Instead of answering – either with words or a package shoved into my hands, as I’d half expected – he moved to the shelf to get a book, and I flopped down into the vacated cushions with a pout. “If you’re not giving me anything, would you at least like to see what my family got me?” I asked, pulling the two new books from my pockets. His footsteps turned from the bookcase to return to my side, where he leaned over to see the new additions to our collection. Pulling forth the one I had decided was by Kisaragi, I shoved it at him with a playful laugh. “From my mother,” I specified.

He grunted. I heard him handle the book, turning it back and forth in his hands. “It looks… interesting.”

“I thought you’d say that. Here, this one’s from Souta; you’ll probably find it less ‘interesting’ and more interesting,” I said, saying the first in a low, sarcastic voice as I handed him the other book.

I could just imagine his eyebrows rising at the sight as he said with traces of surprise evident in his smooth voice, “Fukuzawa Yukichi? I did not think your brother one for philosophy.”

“Neither did I,” I said with a laugh.

We were silent for a moment. I fidgeted with my hands. He did not move. Finally, he said, “Your mother and brother have left?”

I raised my head, caught off guard. “Yeah, they’ll be gone until this evening, just like normal; you know that. Why do you ask?”

Rather than answer, he grabbed me by the hand, tugging me up and out of the armchair. He hardly allowed me the time to gain my balance on my feet before setting off, pulling me along so that I had to run to keep up.

“Keiji!” I cried, pulling back and managing to escape his grasp for a moment. “Where are we going?”

He grabbed my hand again, setting off at a slightly slower rate, though still quicker than I would choose. “To your gift.”

“Oh! Alright,” I said with a grin around my panting breaths. I was not used to running anymore; my life had a slightly slower pace now than it had years before.

“Hn.”

I scowled at his rudeness, but even this could not sufficiently cover up my joy at receiving another birthday present, and the grin returned in record time.

He stopped short. I paused a moment to orient myself. “We’re… by the back door,” I decided. I heard the knob turn and the door turn slowly on its hinges, opening before me. A hand on my lower back, urging me forward; I complied numbly. I had not been outside since we had moved in, save the twice-yearly doctor visits.

The feeling of pavement on my feet shocked me; I had forgotten to put shoes on, but could not bring myself to care. Keiji took me by the hand again, leading my bewildered form off the porch and onto the overgrown lawn, the dew and wet grass between my toes surprising me. A small smile spread across my face, took root, and grew there, flowering into a laugh as I released my companion, stepping away to twirl in a circle, feeling my skirt billow about my ankles. I twirled until I was too dizzy to continue, then fell backwards into the soft flora, where I lay, laughing in delight.

After a moment of joyful exhaustion, I raised my arms, allowing Keiji to pull me back to a standing position, where I promptly threw my arms around him and hugged his as tightly as my dwindling strength would allow. When I pulled back, he placed something in my hands, positioning it away from us, and I heard the sound of flaps separating and opening. He moved the object to cover us, just as the sounds of millions of drops of water hitting the ground and roof surrounded us.

“Rain!” I exclaimed, flinging the umbrella away from myself despite Keiji’s protestations and reaching for his hand to pull him farther from the house, then swinging around to grab his other hand as well. “Dance with me?” I asked plaintively, knowing he would refuse me nothing at this point, and, not to disappoint, one hand moved to my waist as the other found a firmer grip on mine. I was not an amazing dancer, but I managed to keep up with him as he twirled me around the yard.

The excitement that motivated my movements could only last so long, and soon I leaned against him, too tired to continue. I smiled lazily at the drops of water I felt dripping from my hair to my nose to my chin to the ground, listening to them plop into the puddle at our feet. “Thank you, Keiji,” I said languidly, burying my damp nose in his shirt. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” he said, the vibrations of his low voice tickling my face, making me giggle again.

I stood up straight again, maintaining my grasp on his hand. “Let’s go inside now, okay? My mom is probably home by now, and worried about me.” For some reason, the thought of my mother wondering where I was did not concern me, as it should have.

“Yes. We stayed out longer than I expected.” He led me back towards the house, pausing in front of the door. “I will not enter with you. Your mother would see.”

“Oh. Alright, then,” I said, preoccupied with wringing the water from the cuffs of my sleeves. “Will you come back this evening? Or tomorrow?”

“This evening, if you are alone.”

“Kagome!” I heard my mother cry from the front room, and her hurried footsteps toward me. “Kagome, you went outside?” she exclaimed in a tense voice as she reached me and pulled me to her in a hug that made my bones creak. “I was so worried! What were you doing out there alone? And all wet! Come, now, let’s get you a towel.”

“I wasn’t alone, Mom,” I said absently, as though it was the most obvious statement in the world. Common sense, really.

“What? Who was with you? Souta is in school. Was it a stranger? Did someone break in?” Her voice was slowly growing higher in pitch; I said the first thing I could think of to calm her down.

“No, Mom; not a stranger, a friend.”

She stopped in her motions. “Kagome… please tell me you didn’t think Inuyasha was with you.”

I paused, surprised. That had not even entered my mind. “No, of course not, Mom. Why would Inuyasha be here? No, this friend is a ghost. He’s been visiting me since we moved in here.”

“Kagome…” my mother began skeptically, but I cut her off.

“Mom, I’m not kidding! His name is Keiji, and he reads to me in the library while you and Souta are away. He took me outside today for my birthday. Please, Mom; please believe me!”

“Kagome, calm down! You’re not making any sense.” I felt her hand on my forehead, and pulled away defensively. “Hold on, dear; are you feeling alright?”

“I’m not sick! Please, Mom, it is the truth. Keiji is real! You have to trust me–”

“Mom, Kagome, I’m home!” Souta’s voice came from the entry hall, shortly followed by his footsteps toward us. “Hey, what’s going on? Why’s everything so tense?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but my mother got in first. “Your sister was outside alone when I got home.”

“What? Kagome?”

“I wasn’t alone, Mom! Souta, I was not alone. I have made friends with a ghost.”

“A ghost, Kagome?” asked my mother. I could not tell if she was worried or just exasperated. “I’m sure you will understand if we are a bit skeptical.”

I turned quickly to Souta, taking his hand in mine and asking in a pleading voice, “You believe me, don’t you?” No answer. “Souta?”

“Kagome…” he began, sounding tired, before hesitating and starting over. “Kagome, a ghost? I thought this fantasy of yours was over, but… Kagome…”

I felt the tears gathering. Neither of them believed me! Throwing my little brother’s hand away – my little brother who had once idolized me and trusted everything I’d told him, no matter how unlikely it may seem; who knew me well enough to know I’d never lie – and ran from the hallway, dropping the towel my mother had wrapped around my shoulders on the floor as I made my way to my room, slamming the door we never closed behind me and falling face first into my pillow.

I cringed when I felt someone gently place a towel – either a new one or the discarded one – carefully under my still-wet hair and wrap it up and around, getting the dampness away from my back and neck. I sat up and turned violently, knocking them away. “Why don’t you believe me?” I sobbed, the angry tears returning. “I’m not lying! I have never lied to you! He’s real, and I’m not alone!”

An arm around my back pulled me forward until I was sobbing my protests into a shirt. “Hush,” Keiji’s voice told me after a moment. “I know.”

I quieted, though still distressed, and when my sobs diminished, I remained as I was, face pressed against his chest, slightly tilted for the necessary breathing function. I was surprised, though, when his hand settled against the back of my head.

“I apologize,” he said quietly.

I pulled back partially, confused. “For what?”

“I ruined your birthday. You would not be distressed, as you are now, if not for my presence.”

I pulled back completely, then. “What are you talking about?” I asked, letting irritation tint my voice. “Your presence gives me all of the small amount happiness I have experienced since my loss, and your gift today made me happier than any other. You gave me everything I asked for: we went dancing on the lawn in the rain. Why should you apologize for making me happy? My mother and brother should be the ones apologizing for not believing me, not you!”

He did not answer, and after a moment, I moved to sit close beside him, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Why don’t they believe me?” I asked the air in front of my nose, not expecting him to say anything in response to the question any more than I did that air.

Not one to do as expected, though, he did answer. “Most humans of this time do not believe in ghosts, demons, or anything else beyond themselves and their futile existences. Why should your family be any different?” he said reasonably, coldly.

I could not be angry with him, despite the futility comment – it was too much something he would say. So I answered that question, “Because they know better. They have both met Inuyasha, and Souta was with me when I was attacked by a demon Noh mask and when I helped his friend’s sister’s ghost move on to the afterlife. Not to mention, we lived in a shrine! Grandpa believed in demons and ghosts more than he did in humanity, it seems to me – it seems everyone he met, he tried to exorcize at least once. How could they not believe in ghosts, when they’ve seen so much evidence?”

He was silent for a moment, and I thought he would not answer, but he did. “Perhaps they do not want to believe. Perhaps believing causes them too much pain – remembering the time when demons and ghosts were a main part of your life, and when your grandfather was alive, since those times are now gone and sorely missed.”

I lowered my face. “I… suppose that makes sense.”

“Of course it does. Your brother is coming now; we will speak tomorrow.” I nodded, and I felt his presence dissipate just as I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in, Souta,” I called, and he obeyed.

“How’d you know it was me?”

I smiled secretively. “Oh, I have my ways. What are you doing here?”

He was shifting nervously. I could tell. “I wanted to apologize. You… You never gave us reason not to trust you, but you have to admit, a ghost is a bit… far-fetched, Kagome.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t have you believe me, Souta.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, sis?”

I laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He chuckled awkwardly, making his way to the bed to sit beside me.

“We haven’t spoken much, recently, have we?” he began.

“No. We haven’t.”

This time I felt his nervous shifting through the springs of my bed. “I… I want to apologize for that, too. You must get lonely, here alone every day.”

I rolled my sightless eyes, but what could I say to that? “I keep telling you, I’m not alone! My ghost-friend keeps me company”? Oh, yes. That would go over beautifully. Straight to the loony bin for me. I wonder if Keiji would be able to get through the padded walls… Instead, I responded with, “Don’t worry about me; I like the privacy.” Smooth. Very smooth. Like silk.

If I knew my little brother – and I did – he was giving me a very strange look out of the corner of his eye right then. “You never liked privacy before,” he said suspiciously. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you never wanted to be alone. You were always at school with or on the phone with those ditzes you called friends, and then you were always with your friends from the Feudal Era, where you didn’t even bathe alone.” I laughed at that, and this time the chuckle that joined mine was an honest one. “Really, though, I am sorry. For everything,” he added, suddenly serious. “Especially for not believing in… you know. It’s just–”

“Yeah, I know,” I cut him off, just as serious, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and mildly annoyed to realize that I had to reach up above my own shoulder. “You just can’t stand to remember the time when the supernatural – ghosts, demons, spirits and legends – were as much a part of this family’s daily life as eating, sleeping, and breathing. I can’t really blame you for that, Souta.” I offered a warm smile, and knew it was accepted when he enveloped me in an equally warm hug. “So,” I said casually once we’d parted, “since when are you taller than me?” I narrowed my blind eyes in a mock-glare and poked him hard in the chest. “You used to be so short and cute! I thought I told you to stop growing!”

He laughed at the old joke – I had been telling him to stop growing for as long as either of us could remember – and stood to go, saying that he had to help Mom with dinner. I heard his steps pause, though, not two feet from the bed. I felt the passing air as he bent down, heard the brush of his hand against the fabric of my blankets, and felt him stand upright again, apparently examining whatever he’d found. “Hey, Kagome,” he started slowly, “what’s this?”

“What’s what? You know I can’t see that, Souta,” I said, annoyed and curious.

“It… looks like a hair. It can’t be yours, though; your hair is black, and this one is pure white.”

“Really?” I asked excitedly. There was only one other person who frequented my room! “How long is it?” I must admit to being a bit eager for any information on my mysterious ghost.

“Long,” Souta said, sounding impressed. “Longer than yours, even. I wonder whose it could be?”

I had known his hair was long, but even longer than mine was, which had only been trimmed half-heartedly since the accident? He must have been growing it out for a while… Until I could pester him about his hairdo, I just grinned up at my brother, said “Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you!” and laughed maniacally. My pre-affirmed knowledge of my brother guarantees another of those strange looks before he repeated that Mom needed help with dinner and escaped my room, leaving the precious hair in my eager hands.

I smiled secretively as I looped the long strand around my wrist again and again until I got to the end, which I tucked in carefully so that it would not fall off, before rising to join my family for dinner. My mother did not mention my earlier hysterics, so I felt no need to. The small smile remained throughout the evening.

*** *** ***

On a mountain slope,
Solitary, uncompanioned,
Stands a cherry tree.
Except for you, lonely friend,
To others I am unknown.
--Abbot Gyoson

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Author’s Note: Here's the third chapter! Plenty of fluff for you, and I hope you enjoyed it; I'll post the next one in a couple days. Also, a reminder to please visit my FFdotnet profile (fanfiction(dot)net(slash)~firefalcon1414) to vote on what I should write next. Thank you for reading and (hopefully) reviewing!

~FireFalcon1414