Disclaimer: Dis: Not. Claim: Mine. Ergo: I don't own, nor do I make any financial gain. This is just how I get my kicks.
A.N: For anyone who has previously read this fic, this may or may not be good news for you that I am re-working it. From the start. Complete overhaul. So, if you've stuck around, thank you. If you are curious about the original fic, it can be found on FF.net under the same title. For all intents and purposes, this prologue is more or less the original prologue - which started as a one-shot song-fic - and it is meant to be a transitional introspection for Kagome. And from here, not much is going to be the same.
Song Used: Leave by Matchbox 20.
__________
Perverse: marked by a position to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is considered right or good or proper. Forward; untoward; wayward; stubborn; ungovernable; intractable cross; petulant; vexatious.
. . .
Prologue: La Douleur Exquisite.
He'd left again.
No doubt it was because he had caught the scent of a certain other woman on the wind. So, here she was, fighting back the tears and trying to get her jeans off of her body so she could seek the warm embrace of a hot spring. Her fingers trembled so badly she couldn't manage the button at her waist.
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand.
Kagome, staring at nothing in particular, considered a number of things in general - number one being that she did indeed understand with a clarity that had often left her struggling to breathe. In particular, she more than understood; she knew. Armed with this bitter knowledge, she suddenly and acutely recognized the cruel irony behind the phrase “blissful ignorance.” Knowledge was the key to unlocking power, or so they had said. They, conveniently enough, always failed to grace the listener with the terrible truth that power and knowledge came with an equally terrible price.
The second particular point of fact: the debt that had been hers had been settled in the currency of both heartache and sacrifice of the ability to pretend nothing had changed within her, and the subsequent remuneration had left her feeling raw and wanting. Something had irrevocably altered within her rib-cage, had shifted, fallen, shattered, and she could not pretend it had not happened nor could she go back to the way she had been before.
Kagome knew this truth, and all the truths that would follow, and understood it.
It's amazing,
How you make your face just like a wall
There were of course times that, if Kagome looked just so, she could see through the cracks in his jaded exterior into the depths, past all his hurts and secrets and shielding, could see the tender heart he still harboured. But it was not for her that it beat. The staccato rhythm sounded out another’s name: ki-k-you, ki-k-you.
She was not Kikyou… had been once, perhaps, a long time ago, but not now nor ever again. And sometimes, when he looked at her, not the Other, she felt the subtle accusation, as though it was her fault that she had been brought into this world carrying within her the soul of the woman he had loved fifty years in his past.
Why only Kagome and never Kikyou again? In words, more than just glances, he would tell her how worthless of an imitation she was; as though she herself was at fault for her lack of training. It wasn't like she could help that. The future did, after all, depend solely on technology to eradicate demons which more or less came in the form of physical illnesses or diseases of the mind. It had no true need for priests or priestesses; they did little more than manage the upkeep of old traditions, figureheads of antiquated spirituality.
How you take your heart and turn it off
How I turn my head and loose it all
Each time he had forced her to be an unwilling mirror to her own dead-reflection and had then listed Kikyou's many marvellous virtues, she had turned away from him, or had silenced him with a "sit" ground out from clenched teeth or shouted in high irritation and then there was the fervent hope that persisted afterwards - that his nose was too clogged with clods of the earth he’d been so abruptly reacquainted with to catch wind of her sadness. She had tried so hard to hide her humanity, her vulnerability and perceived weaknesses.
It had gone on so long and now, the miko was burnt out, tired of being hurt time and time again, just as she was entirely disgusted with herself for being so weak. At first, Kagome just didn't grasp why his casual insults had unerringly found their way straight to her heart and lanced it with a subtle pain, time and again. Why every time he left her behind to go to Kikyou, she'd felt so wrong inside. That subtle pain had flourished into a full bloom of agony, thorns spreading out from the centre and lancing her insides when she realized the why, and had finally understood. But, first, there had been hope. And perhaps, that had been the most insensible, cruellest trick of all.
How many times had she wept?
Hidden with a smile or a ‘sit,’ she had cried and they had all known… the monk with his sly hand, sly mind and sly smile had always been the first, all slyness aside, to attempt to assuage her hurt with a well-timed joke or well-intentioned grope (and leave it to Miroku to pioneer a way to make sexual harassment well-meaning). The orphaned kitsune, child of her heart, had always offered comfort in the way only a child could, with innocent guile and cuddles and gruff remonstrations aimed at a certain ass of a hanyou. The jaded youkai hunter, a sister she had never known she needed nor thought she deserved, had always endeavoured to be the ear to listen or the shoulder to lean on though as of late, Kagome had hesitated in giving her pains anymore voice than she already had, fearing that such a thing would allow them even more power over her. And so while her compatriots had always known… she no longer spoke of her discomforts or her silent agonies and had instead focused solely on making certain they knew how very much she loved them and cared for them.
It's unnerving
How just one moves puts me by myself
There were the times (so many of them) when he had rushed off and left her behind even after he had promised her otherwise. Apparently, however, breaking a promise to her was easily done with no thought given to the aftermath that would follow. Yet any promise made to the Other was kept… would be kept to the very last. It was this that, after everything else, came as the slap to the face, the insult layered over injury. The fact that he went to the very person, though if one was to be truly accurate, the golem that had attempted to kill her, drag him to hell and steal the Shikon no Tama shards that they had both slaved away to gather. Only to in turn give them to their enemy, his nemesis. Even through all that, he trusted the golem more then he cared for her, it seemed. So, promises made to her were pie-crust promises. Easily made and easily broken, and just as easily forgotten, crumbling under foot.
There you go just trusting someone else
Now I know I put us both through hell
It could all be traced back to one reason alone. All of it; the heartache, the tears, the broken promises. It was all for Love. This so called emotion was supposedly all sunshine and happiness, a glowing warmth stoked with gentle touches from that special someone into a blaze of fire that kept the darkness of the night at bay. The singular emotion poets penned sonnets and verse about, writers enshrined in elegant word play, movies of all genre never failed to, in some way, portray.
What was 'Love'? Why should there have been an emotion such as love? It only seemed to bring more pain than it was worth. Why was the idea of being in Love held so highly? It was not safe. It was not kind. Love was deadly; the most potent poison that went straight to the heart. Love only made one vulnerable, it seemed.
I'm not saying
There wasn't something wrong
There never seemed to be any good in the emotion for her. Or, if there was, it was negated by his harsh words. One sliver of sunshine in the eye of the storm before its fury doubled and left her once again bereft of shelter. Was she truly of less worth than that clay amalgamation’s memory? Why was she not good enough?
'I'm alive and I'm here, waiting...' Was that not enough?
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me
If only there was a way to make him love her, she had thought once that she would do it in a half a heartbeat. She had wished in vain that it was that simple, for no matter what she did, he'd still never truly see her. That was what tore at her heart the most. All she'd ever be to him was the pale shadow of a past love that was taken away from him prematurely. Kagome would never be herself to him. She'd be a reincarnation.
They say that sticks and stones may shatter bones but words could never hurt you. Kagome, older now and more jaded than she’d been when first told those words, now viewed them as something of a white lie. The truth was that words held just as much destructive power as any weapon did, if not more so. She had been brought to the breaking point so many times by just his words alone it was getting harder and harder to pull herself back from the edge. How much of herself would she lose to him before she was lost entirely? Would he possess everything she was till there was nothing left for herself? Till he did to her what Kikyou was now doing to him?
I'm not saying
We ever had the right to hold on
She was so sick and tired of putting herself on a platter for him. He didn't see her. He never truly had. Perhaps he never would. Kagome didn’t think it was fair to herself to wait around on the impossibility of that changing.
I just didn't wanna let it get away from me
What he did see was a woman that had been killed fifty years ago. The hanyou saw a second best prize. Not quite as good as the original (as he had been quick to point out time and time again) but, well, beggars can't be choosers now can they?
His voice echoed through the hollows of her mind: "Feh. She's just a stupid shard detector."
And Kagome refused to be only that one thing, refused to be reduced to only that one thing. She was so much more than that.
But if that's how it’s gonna leave
Straight out from underneath
Then we'll see who's sorry now
It made her feel so worthless to be shoved aside and forgotten entirely because Kikyou was in the general vicinity of his scent-range. As soon as Kikyou was even so much as hinted at, Kagome became invisible to him.
Kikyou, Kikyou… never Kagome. The answer was there and it haunted her.
The one you're leaving now
The one you're leaving out
It's aggravating
How you threw me on…
Kagome, and the damaged heart within her, knew and understood. One such as InuYasha could not turn his back on honour and duty for something like Love. Especially not when he once loved, and still loved, the one to whom he owed so much. The injustice of it was bitter and jagged in her throat and behind her eyes. She felt it so unfair that she could understand him so well, love him so much, need him so only to know that if it came down to it, she would step aside for him knowing that she'd never be what he wanted. It was unfair to be so selfless. But it would have been more unfair for her to demand something from him that he couldn’t give. And so, Kagome had made her choice.
A tear burned a salty brand down her left cheek and soon after, another followed. And another, down the other cheek. She wept, shoulders trembling with the strength of the sick feeling inside of her as she began to break again.
…And tore me out
How your good intentions turn to doubt
The way you needed time to sort it out
Tell me is that how it's going to end
Kagome wanted nothing more than for everyone she loved to be happy, but was a little sliver of happiness for herself too much to ask for? She wished desperately to go back to the bliss ignorance gave her; things were easier and uncomplicated when you didn't see the world entirely and didn't know that it was going to inevitably hurt you. She had dreams once of a knight in shining armour carrying her away. Those dreams had changed, and soon she realized that in her desired fairy tale, she would always be second best. They had changed now, were no longer dreams, but nightmares.
When you know you've been depending on
The one you're leaving now
The one you're leaving out
When she didn't know, she'd been chipper and upbeat. It hadn't been an act that was beginning to cost her more and more precious energy to keep up. Her responsibility for the jewel, her friends, her little adopted cub, and schoolwork weighed her down. And for some reason, it kept getting heavier. She was falling behind in school so swiftly it made her head swim.
The one you're leaving now
The one you're leaving out
Was this how Kikyou felt when the jewel was in her possession? The great curse that the power of the jewel brought, as well as the protection the village needed, the duty to be an elder sister and mentor to the rest of her protectorates?
‘Well, shit.’ If he didn't drive her to an early grave, the stress and worry would. Well, okay, fine. She'd deal with that like she always did. And he'd insult her like he always did. And she'd fight back as she always did. And he'd run off and abandon her like he always did. And she'd carry on as she always did. And he'd come back and try to lie to her, and he'd have a nice and personal visit with terra firma. It was routine. They'd continue to fight against each other, he'd continue protecting the Kikyou in her and she'd continue to gather the shards for him. Without so much as a ‘Thank You’, might she add.
I'm not saying there wasn't nothing wrong
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me
However, one thing would change, she had decided. No longer would this ‘love’ rule her. There was only so much one heart could take before it gave up and let go. Kagome knew her heart had crossed that line. Because this isn’t the love I deserve…
But if that's how it's gonna leave
Straight out from underneath
Then we'll see who's sorry now
If that's how it's gonna stand, when
You know you've been depending on
The one you're leaving now
The one you're leaving out.
Knowledge may have been pain, and she may long for the blissful ignorance she once lived in, but she'd gained a new perspective on her life. With these new eyes, she'd decided she was going to take a step back from the love triangle and let the tables turn without her. She was going to release herself from the brutal web of pain this love had woven for her and step down from the demented carousel of hurt. Kagome had had just about all the unrequited love she could stand. No more. No more holding her heart out ahead of her, it was time to protect the organ and keep it safe.
She wasn't going to be the victim anymore. She was a woman of the twenty-first century, she was fresh out of her teens, a young adult at twenty, and dammit, she was a strong willed, intelligent one and she deserved the love of someone who would see her and only her, no reincarnations, no Shikon no Tama.
Kagome. Me. All of me and who I am.
The miko leaned her head back against the rock behind her, eyes on the stars.
The hanyou was dense when it came to matters of the heart, obviously. Otherwise her story would have the fairy tale ending it was supposed to have- the whole ‘happy ever after’ thing would have been nice. Well, it would be more than just nice, it would have been Heaven. Between the heaven and the hell she was in now, she had no problems with choosing. She, of course, was not blinded by guilt and a past that should've stayed just that.
There was little one could do against guilt she knew, but it wasn't Inuyasha's emotion to harbour. It was a burden that Naraku should have born; yet, as she had learned, life was never fair. Naraku did what he pleased with no conscience to choke him or control his hand.
'Naraku'. Slate grey eyes narrowed in reflex. Naraku had been the catalyst for the past five decades of torment, the beginning of all this heartache. If Kagome had been capable of hating, she would have hated him. As it were, she only sought to remedy his wrongs.
Naraku had been her beginning. She planned on being his end.
She stood and waded to the centre of the spring, standing completely still in the water she waited for it to settle then looked upon her reflection solemnly. It was not 'Kikyou' that she saw, but it was not entirely 'Kagome' either.
It was someone who loved too strongly for her own good. Someone who cared too much, felt too deeply and gave too freely of herself.
But now, she was certain, everything she had to give had given out.
. . .
carry on.