Touching Fire by Meian no Uta

Trapped Behind Glass

It's as if we're all trapped behind glass. We can see the world, but we can't touch it. Our lives revolve around pain, and even if we wanted to, we can't stop it. It never stops.

I suppose I'm not one to talk. I've had a perfect life so far. As far as anyone else can tell, I've grown up in a world of stained glass windows and crystal chandeliers. A world where nothing wrong ever seems to touch you. But it does. You can hide, but it finds you.

Behind the crystal and the beautiful faces is a world of lies. No one trusts you, and the first lesson you learn is to not trust anyone. You lie, and you betray, because it's what you were born to do.

You hide any problems, and do not ask for sympathy. Weakness is hated, and avoided at all costs. We moved across the country to get away from the high society. That is why we had to leave Japan, after all. They were prying into our lives, and Mother said it was bad for business.

It is three days until Christmas, and there is no snow. In New York, there was always a thin layer of snow covering everything. But here in San Francisco, it has been raining harder than one could imagine. Mother left me with with Kikyou. She flew to Japan to visit Grandfather. I would be in the way, I know. I cannot even get out of bed, some days, and others I must be rushed to the hospital. I am not getting better. I want with all my heart to see snow once more before I die.

Sota is away at school. I know he is ashamed that his big sister is sick. I would give anything for him to have a normal family. One that he could be proud of. He grew up in a world that taught you never to show weakness. I am a weakness. Kikyou is better. His oldest sister is someone to be proud of, at least. A college student, studying to be a lawyer. She is his only sister, as far as the rest of his world knows. Just as Father did not leave us for another woman, but is away on business. He grew up in the perfect world of his lies; a world denied to the rest of us.

Mother and Kikyou both tell me it's foolish to write these thoughts down. But I want there to be something left when I'm gone. A way for them to remember me. Their little secret hidden behind locked doors.

Kagome looked up. The rain that had persisted for so many long days had stopped, leaving a cloudy sky with the threat of a storm on the gentle breeze. Kikyou had deemed her well enough to go out, before rushing off to the airport, so here she was.

The streets were beautiful in winter, no matter what anyone said. People hurried in and out of stores, each caught up in their own little world. Colors mingled, and the scent of perfume drifted out of the nearest store. You could stay there forever, pretending to live another life.

Glancing at her watch, she pushed herself up from the bench, and towards the used bookstore. Most people never saw it, crushed between chain department stores, but she loved it. Peering through the musty shelves, she saw the silver flash of the weekend manager.

The dim light of outside filtered through the windows, highlighting the newest arrivals. Between Mark Twain and Madeleine L'Engle was resting a battered copy of Emily Dickinson. Kagome gasped, and plucked it off the shelf.

"Find something?" The manager had snuck up behind her again. She held up the book.

"How much?"

"Ten. We have more poetry in the back corner." She waved his hand in the general direction, before focusing on her. "She's my favorite though."

"Mine too. I love the way she wrote about death, as if it is not something to be feared."

"Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality." Kagome smiled; it was her favorite poem.

"We slowly drove, he knew no haste, and I had put away my labor, and my leisure too, for his civility." He nodded in appreciation.

"We passed the school where children played, their lessons scarcely done; we passed the fields of grazing grain, we passed the settling sun."

"We paused before a house that seemed a swelling of the ground; the roof was scarcely visible. The cornice but a mound."

"Since then 'tis centuries; but each feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads were toward eternity."

There was a long pause after his final words, and then she smiled. "That is my favorite poem." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I want it read at my funeral."

"Don't you think you're a little young to be thinking about death?" She smiled, and shook her head.

"Not at all."

"To each their own, I suppose. But aren't you afraid of it? Of it coming when you're not ready?" He pulled a chair out from behind the counter and motioned for her to sit, before perching on the edge of a second seat.

"Yes." She sat carefully.

"Then why do you speak of it with disregard?"

"While I was fearing it, it came, but came with less of fear, because that fearing it so long had made it almost dear."

"Do you often answer in poetry?"

"When it suits my purpose, I suppose." He smiled slightly, and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"I would much rather continue this discussion, but I have to close the shop. My father is having a party."

"I should get home anyway." She stood, and held out the book. "You said ten?" Digging into the pocket of her coat, she found was she was looking for. "Here."

"Thank you. I'm Sesshoumaru Yanagi, by the way." He took the money. She looked back at him before pushing the door open.

"Kagome Higurashi." She left the shop, and stepped out into the rain. The storm that had been threatening had lived up to it's promise. The streets were empty and the shops closed. She had stayed longer in the bookstore than she meant to.

Fumbling with her coat, she pulled the hood over her head, only to have it blown off my the wind.

"Damn weather," she swore as she pulled the hood up again. Crossing the street, she faltered when she heard a car horn directly behind her. The window on the passenger's side rolled down.

"Need a ride?" Sesshoumaru grinned, and Kagome nodded. She climbed into the car, and they continued driving.

"Where to?"

"You know the big house over on Morgan? The one that looks kind of like a mansion, only really old?"

"Yeah. You live there by yourself?"

"No. Well, sometimes. It's actually my mom, my little brother, and my older sister. Grandfather is in Japan still."

"You don't sound Japanese, even if you look it."

"Comes from growing up in London, and then New York, I suppose. We just moved here last summer. You look Japanese too. But your hair..."

"Father's side of the family. Mother was Japanese. Why did you move here?"

"Family reasons, is the official justification. But we just needed to get away from it all."

"We're here." He pulled into the driveway. The house was dark, every curtain closed. Kagome sighed. It would be another long night at home. "Is anyone home?"

"No. Kikyou is in New York for the holidays, Sota is still at school, and Mother is in Japan. One of Mother's friends will be stopping by tomorrow to see if I need anything." She moved to open the door.

"You shouldn't be alone on Christmas. We have a free guest room, why don't you come stay with us? You've met Aunt Kaede and Rin, haven't you?" Kagome pictured the old woman and the young girl that usually ran the bookstore.

"I'd be in the way."

"You wouldn't." Kagome could see the amusement in his eyes. "When will your family be back?"

"Kikyou will be back after the New Year. I don't know about Mother. Sota stays at school."

"All the more reason. Rin will love to see you again." Kagome couldn't argue with that. The girl was always following her around. It was a nice change from home.

"I guess I could. But I would need to pack a bag of clothes."

"Do you have something for the party?"

"No."

"Not a problem. Now, go pack. I'll be back in a little while to pick you up." He smiled, and started the car. She climbed out and hurried inside.

Once she was inside, she pulled out a small suitcase from the smallest closet. In her room, she gently folded her nicest clothes into the bag, and sighed. It wouldn't be enough. In Kikyou's closet she found what she was looking for. Her sister had kept up with the fashions, and there were enough clothes to last a lifetime. By the time she was packed and had written out a note for whoever was home first, Sesshoumaru was parked outside again.

"I'm afraid I have nothing suitable for a party." She smiled and shrugged, after climbing into the car. "Even Kikyou's closet didn't have anything.

"I told you it wouldn't be a problem. There are enough girls staying at the house that someone will have something."

"How many people will there be? At the party, I mean."

"Probably about twenty family members, and various other guests. When I say various, I mean about two hundred important business people from around the country."

"Anyone from New York? New York City, I mean."

"There are Father's friends, Tori and Naraku Akumu."

"What about their daughter, Kagura?" Sesshoumaru looked startled.

"You know them?"

"What about her?"

"She'll probably be there. Why?"

"No reason. Could you just not mention that I live here? Or the fact that we met at a used book store?

"You know her? And I won't."

"I used to."

"Story?"

"Another time, maybe."