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InuYasha : Memory Chapter 1
Memory chap 1
A story of Life, Death, and Rebirth. During a showdown against their mortal enemy, Naraku, InuYasha is slain, leaving Kagome in a state of despair. Just as she begins to pick up the pieces again, someone new walks into her life, and turns it upside down in a way she never imagined. She is a firm believer in reincarnation, but never in a thousand years did she see this coming...
Kagome was lost.
She sat alone in her room, late into the night, staring down at the rosary that once hung around InuYasha's neck. The beads were so familiar, and smooth. Yet they were cold. Not hanging around his neck, they were lifeless.
She wondered if the spell was still within the beads anymore, or if that too, was broken. She pondered wearing it herself, wearing everything that had been his, and never letting go of them.
After all, they were all that was left of InuYasha, aside from her memories.
Kagome had been attached to his possessions for months now, still refusing to accept the dark tru
InuYasha : Memory chapter 2
Ayumi said her friend Kagome was a bit mysterious, but she didn't seem all that odd as other people made her out to be. She did seem sad though, he could see it in her eyes. And it worried him, despite the fact that she was a complete stranger.
And he was in that complete strangers bedroom which had a pleasant smell of cherry blossoms to it.
He walked in quickly to the book, which sat on the nightstand beside her bed, and halted midstride, as a sudden spike of pain drove itself through his chest. It was so abrupt, and crippling, that he fell to his hands and knees on the floor, and gasped for air.
Of all places for it to happen, it had to be in a stranger's house, that didn't know about his condition.
It had never been so intense before, not enough to drive him to his knees in agony. He was about to stand when it happened twice more, and he fell flat to the floor with a groan. It felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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