DISCLAIMER: I do not own Inuyasha or any of the characters. That all belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
Prologue
From the End to the Beginning
The soft sound of small bare feet on polished hard wood woke Kagome. Pacific blue eyes snapped open searching out the source of the noise. She raised up onto her elbows in her futon and rubbed the sleep from her bleary eyes. A moment later a bright flash burned the image of the room onto her retinas. Thunder split the night and the shoji screens rattled.
A startled squeak came from the hallway and tiny steps quickened. Kagome blinked, attempting to rid herself of the imprint of the hauntingly illuminated room. Just as she succeeded the paper screen slid back.
A small girl, who appeared no more than six years old, stood in the doorway. The hem of her white nightgown ghosted over the tops of her feet. Black hair ran in tangled locks down her back. Her wide eyes scanned the darkness until another crash of thunder spurred her into the room. The child flung herself across her mother's stomach resulting in a forced whoosh of air from Kagome's lungs.
"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's only thunder," Kagome soothed as she ran her fingers through the whimpering child's hair.
The girl tucked her head closer to the comfort of her mother's stomach and buried her nose against the soft flesh of Kagome's side. Another hearty clap ripped through the night and the girl's ears perked as she picked up the first moaning of the wind.
Kagome tugged the soft down blanket from between them before nudging the child underneath. "Shhh." A small hiccup alerted her to the growing damp patch against her ribs. Gently, she pulled the girl over to her side and propped them both up on pillows.
"I miss daddy," the muffled voice of the girl declared as she did her best to wrap herself up in her mother.
A soft sigh escaped Kagome's lips and she found her own eyes moist at how readily she would agree with that statement. She made sure her voice wouldn't waver before answering. "I miss your daddy too."
Silence reigned after the whispered confessions. The sounds of quiet breathing mingled with the patter of the first drops of rain from, what Kagome knew would be a deluge. The little girl flinched at the low groan of wooden beams straining against a sudden screech of wind.
Kagome pulled her daughter's head onto her chest and continued stroking her hair. "My mother used to tell me that thunderstorms were the kamis wrestling," she whispered as she nuzzled the little girl. A small wistful smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
She remembered being the one comforted. The smell of her own mother's blankets, slightly musky but full of warmth that felt like honey, floated into her mind like a specter. A tendril of resentment rose in her at the thought that she wouldn't mind being held right now, but the person she wished would hold her was absent. Ruthlessly she pushed the feeling away.
Almost convinced that her daughter had fallen back to sleep, she was surprised when a small voice made it's way to her ears.
"Tell me a story, mama."
Another flare of light allowed Kagome a glimpse at her daughter's pale face and shiny eyes. The rumbling boom that followed vibrated in her chest. She resigned herself to a long night and sat up a little straighter, adjusting the girl in her arms.
Blunt white teeth worried her bottom lip as she thought. After a few moments of silence, save for the storm hanging just outside, Kagome settled on a tale. The soft decisive noise from the back of her throat ceased her daughter's fidgeting.
As the images fluttered back to her she took a deep breath. It wasn't the happiest story, but seemed to fit the mood nature evoked in her. Besides, she could always gloss over the bad parts. That was the beauty of childhood. No one ever told you the whole truth.
The wind picked up again. It reminded her of an Inu's mournful howl and she shivered, feeling a chill settle into her blood. The scraping sound of the shoji screen her daughter had left open being pulled closed drew her attention. Her son stood just inside the room, his small pale hand still resting on the wooden frame of the door.
"I was just looking for Tsuki," he said sheepishly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Another ominous creak of support beams found the eight year old walking toward the bed.
Kagome watched her son's silver hair sway behind him as he forced himself not to pull a double to the stunt Tsuki had, and fling himself across her on the bed. Instead, his steps remained measured, his chin level. He reached the opposite side of the futon from his sister, and climbed under the blanket Kagome held back for him.
"I was just about to tell your sister a story." She was successful at keeping her amusement at his antics out of her tone. But what he did next undid her.
"Oh?" He asked, ever so nonchalantly.
Kagome had the impression of a raised eyebrow. There was nothing for it, she snickered. "Yes, oh."
A tug on the sleeve of her sleeping yukata brought her attention back to her daughter.
"The story, mama."
Kagome hummed in acknowledgement, and settled herself in. It was her son's turn for amusement. She could feel it radiating off of him and decided to ignore it. Who knew a sense of humor could be passed on genetically?
Another roll of thunder rippled across the land as she searched for a place to begin the tale. Eventually she decided the best place was, after all, the beginning.
Snug in her overly large futon with her son and her daughter, Kagome began the story of how all came to be.
"Once I knew a powerful human hating demon Lord who loved a little mortal girl..."
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