No Stars to Wish Upon
Title: No Stars to Wish Upon
Fandom: Inuyasha
Character/Pairing: Shippou + Kirara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1700
Notes: Written to fulfill sailorpanda's request in iy_flashfic.
No Stars to Wish Upon
“Kagome!” Shippou’s body twitched. His head felt muzzy. Had he been asleep? He must have been. A bad dream, one he couldn’t remember. His heart was racing. He took a moment to calm himself, slowing his breathing.
It was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything, not even the stars. Not even....
Shippou whimpered, blinking against the darkness. His night vision was better than a human’s, but it would still take a little while for his eyes to adjust. The small tremors in his body had almost stilled. “Kagome?” His voice came out a whisper, swallowed up by the black emptiness. Shippou sat up, dimly horrified by the amount of effort such a simple action took, then all thoughts were forgotten as pain speared his temple. He swooned backwards, his head swimming as the sound of his heartbeat filled his ears. Tiny fingers carefully touched the side of his head and found the hair matted and sticky. He spent a confused moment trying to decide if his eyes were open or closed, then the darkness claimed him utterly.
* * *
He woke slowly this time, feeling warm and secure. Safe. Dimly, he became aware of the soft fur pressed against him, a fistful clutched in each hand. “Otou,” he murmured, knowing now that he was still dreaming, but desperate to hold on to it, his mind clinging to it as tightly as his fingers held the tufts of fur.
A faint, acrid smell tickled his nostrils, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as if he could resist the waking world by refusing to see it. He lowered his throbbing head to his father’s pelt, burying his face in the silken softness. Even as he did it, he could no longer deny that something was wrong. The smell was wrong. This wasn’t his father.
...And it wasn’t a dream.
“Kirara.” Shippou’s voice was a croak. His throat felt raw for some reason he couldn’t remember. She mewed in reply and butted her head against his arm. Loosening his grip on her tail, Shippou raised his head and slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked. The world was still dark. The insides of his eyelids felt hot and scratchy. The throbbing in his head was still there, not as large or painful, but persistent, a steady rhythm that quickened as fear began to gnaw on the edges of his mind. Shippou squeezed his eyes shut again with a small whimper. He felt a spot of soft wetness as Kirara pressed her nose to his cheek. “Prrrt?” That’s right. He was not alone, not really.
“Kirara,” he began carefully, “why is it so dark?” She only nudged him gently again, urging him to his feet. He moved a hand from her tail to the top of her head, steadying himself as he stood. He paused a moment, waiting for the swimmy feeling in his head to subside. The heartbeat in his ears seemed about to deafen him. Kirara stood patiently, still as a statue beneath his hand. Slowly, the dizzy feeling passed; the throbbing faded once more to the background. With utmost care, he took a step forward. Then another, and another, with Kirara at his side to guide him through the blackness that he was beginning to fear would never end.
He came to realize they were in an enclosed space, jagged earth and stone forming rough walls and a ceiling. He reached one hand out to trail along the edge, where he could reach it. No one had dug out this tunnel; it was a tear, a crack in the earth. Shippou shivered as something slipped through his mind, dancing just on the edge of his memory.
Though their progress was slow, it wasn’t long until Shippou realized they were nearly out in the open air. The harsh scent of powerful shouki grew stronger with every step he took, and though his nose was not as keen as Inuyasha’s, he could not mistake the metallic tang of blood that hung heavy in the air. “Kirara,” he whispered, “is it safe?” It seemed a stupid question as he voiced it; of course Kirara would not lead him into danger. Things were just so wrong, though, and it hurt to think, and though the absolute blackness had faded to a blurry wash of indistinct greys, he still couldn’t really see anything, not really.
She mewed in reply and trotted ahead of him. In a fit of small panic, he grabbed for her tail and missed. She gave another mew, as if reassuring him she would not abandon him, and he heard the sudden displacement of air and felt the wave of heat that signified Kirara’s change to her larger form. She padded close and gave a low whine, dropping her head down to him. Shippou understood her meaning at once and grabbed two handfuls of her ruff, pulling himself up and onto her back. There he laid down his head, wishing desperately for the throbbing to stop.
He must have collapsed then, in a state of exhaustion--or at least he could remember nothing between then and the dim realization that they were in the air, and the horrible smell was no longer in evidence, except for the hints of it that still clung to Kirara’s fur. Shippou’s vision was still dim, though--perhaps it was only wishful thinking on his part--he thought the greyness was a bit brighter than it had been before. He had no idea how long they’d been flying, but it made him feel safe. Kirara was taking him to Kagome, and Kagome would make things all right.
Shippou was surprised then, when Kirara dropped to a landing soon after. He could hear the soft rushing of a stream, and the wind in the leaves, an odd chirping of birds...beyond that, silence. No Kagome (or Miroku or Sango or even Inuyasha) rushing up to greet him, to lift him from Kirara’s back, and voice thanks that he was okay. No one there, only Kirara and him. He sat for a moment, numb, as he let this sink in. Kirara dropped her head and he slid off, losing his footing and falling to his knees as he hit the ground. Kirara voiced a questioning whine of concern, carefully offering one large paw to help him up.
Shippou stood and allowed himself to be guided to the bank of the stream. He cupped his hands and dribbled a bit of water into his mouth, spilling most down his front. The cool, clear liquid was like pleasant electricity in his parched throat and he lay on his stomach and lowered his face to it, gulping so quickly he scarcely had time to breathe.
He felt Kirara, small again, at his side. Shippou finished drinking and rested there on his stomach, head swimmy again, but no longer throbbing so insistently. Kirara mewed and touched her nose to his cheek, then raised her head and drew her rough tongue carefully over the side of his head. Shippou winced, touching his head and finding it caked with blood. “It’s okay, Kirara. I can wash it.” He lowered his head to the stream and wet it, massaging slowly to work out the matted dirt and blood. There was a large lump there, and a gash that he probed hesitantly with his fingers, finding it long but not particularly deep. As Shippou washed out the wound it began to bleed freely again, and he wanted to cry in frustration. Then he remembered the ribbon tying back his hair and pulled it loose, folding it double and pressing it to his head.
“Kirara?”
Her reply was not immediate, and he began to panic, struggling to stand. “Kirara!” Then she was beside him again, giving a muffled meow before she dropped something at his feet. He knelt and reached for it. A little fish, still wriggling and gasping for breath. He felt a weight drop heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Kirara,” he began, trying to keep his voice even, “where is Kagome?” She gave a helpless mew and shifted restlessly. “Inuyasha?” A quiet whine, and she began to pace. Dread gripped him tightly and he struggled to think straight, to remember....
Naraku. There was Naraku, and the air thick with shouki; choking them, blotting out the stars themselves.... Dimly, Sango’s voice echoed through his mind: stay with Shippou, Kirara. No matter what happens. Keep him safe.
Shippou swallowed hard, reaching out a hand to Kirara as he realized who he should have asked her about from the start. “Kirara,” he whispered, “where is Sango?” The answer was a pained whine: hesitant, uncertain. She didn’t know. He tried to stand up straight and brave, tried not to let his voice quaver. “We have to go back and find them.” Kirara gave a whuff of breath, relieved but unsure. “I’ll be okay. We have to find them, though; we have to.”
She needed no further urging and stepped back, changing once more to her large form. Shippou scrambled up on her neck, feeling a warm trickle of blood flow down the side of his face. He unwadded the length of ribbon that was bunched in his hand and tied it around his head. It wasn’t long enough to cover the entire gash and still tie, so he positioned it as best he could.
Shippou began to smell the site of the battle within minutes--Kirara hadn’t taken him far then, just enough to get clear of the shouki. His fingers curled tightly around the fur of Kirara’s ruff. The scent of blood was clear again now, but whose was it? Kirara wouldn’t leave them if they needed help, a dark voice in his mind whispered. She wouldn’t leave them if they were still alive. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head to Kirara’s fur, wishing he could still believe he was safe with his father; willing himself to believe that, but knowing it was no use. He returned, desperately, to words that may have come from his memory or imagination, he wasn’t sure which. Stay with him, Kirara. No matter what happens. No matter what...
Shippou felt Kirara begin to drop from the sky and held his breath, wanting to hope, but mostly dreading, dreading, dreading.
Fandom: Inuyasha
Character/Pairing: Shippou + Kirara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1700
Notes: Written to fulfill sailorpanda's request in iy_flashfic.
No Stars to Wish Upon
“Kagome!” Shippou’s body twitched. His head felt muzzy. Had he been asleep? He must have been. A bad dream, one he couldn’t remember. His heart was racing. He took a moment to calm himself, slowing his breathing.
It was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything, not even the stars. Not even....
Shippou whimpered, blinking against the darkness. His night vision was better than a human’s, but it would still take a little while for his eyes to adjust. The small tremors in his body had almost stilled. “Kagome?” His voice came out a whisper, swallowed up by the black emptiness. Shippou sat up, dimly horrified by the amount of effort such a simple action took, then all thoughts were forgotten as pain speared his temple. He swooned backwards, his head swimming as the sound of his heartbeat filled his ears. Tiny fingers carefully touched the side of his head and found the hair matted and sticky. He spent a confused moment trying to decide if his eyes were open or closed, then the darkness claimed him utterly.
* * *
He woke slowly this time, feeling warm and secure. Safe. Dimly, he became aware of the soft fur pressed against him, a fistful clutched in each hand. “Otou,” he murmured, knowing now that he was still dreaming, but desperate to hold on to it, his mind clinging to it as tightly as his fingers held the tufts of fur.
A faint, acrid smell tickled his nostrils, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as if he could resist the waking world by refusing to see it. He lowered his throbbing head to his father’s pelt, burying his face in the silken softness. Even as he did it, he could no longer deny that something was wrong. The smell was wrong. This wasn’t his father.
...And it wasn’t a dream.
“Kirara.” Shippou’s voice was a croak. His throat felt raw for some reason he couldn’t remember. She mewed in reply and butted her head against his arm. Loosening his grip on her tail, Shippou raised his head and slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked. The world was still dark. The insides of his eyelids felt hot and scratchy. The throbbing in his head was still there, not as large or painful, but persistent, a steady rhythm that quickened as fear began to gnaw on the edges of his mind. Shippou squeezed his eyes shut again with a small whimper. He felt a spot of soft wetness as Kirara pressed her nose to his cheek. “Prrrt?” That’s right. He was not alone, not really.
“Kirara,” he began carefully, “why is it so dark?” She only nudged him gently again, urging him to his feet. He moved a hand from her tail to the top of her head, steadying himself as he stood. He paused a moment, waiting for the swimmy feeling in his head to subside. The heartbeat in his ears seemed about to deafen him. Kirara stood patiently, still as a statue beneath his hand. Slowly, the dizzy feeling passed; the throbbing faded once more to the background. With utmost care, he took a step forward. Then another, and another, with Kirara at his side to guide him through the blackness that he was beginning to fear would never end.
He came to realize they were in an enclosed space, jagged earth and stone forming rough walls and a ceiling. He reached one hand out to trail along the edge, where he could reach it. No one had dug out this tunnel; it was a tear, a crack in the earth. Shippou shivered as something slipped through his mind, dancing just on the edge of his memory.
Though their progress was slow, it wasn’t long until Shippou realized they were nearly out in the open air. The harsh scent of powerful shouki grew stronger with every step he took, and though his nose was not as keen as Inuyasha’s, he could not mistake the metallic tang of blood that hung heavy in the air. “Kirara,” he whispered, “is it safe?” It seemed a stupid question as he voiced it; of course Kirara would not lead him into danger. Things were just so wrong, though, and it hurt to think, and though the absolute blackness had faded to a blurry wash of indistinct greys, he still couldn’t really see anything, not really.
She mewed in reply and trotted ahead of him. In a fit of small panic, he grabbed for her tail and missed. She gave another mew, as if reassuring him she would not abandon him, and he heard the sudden displacement of air and felt the wave of heat that signified Kirara’s change to her larger form. She padded close and gave a low whine, dropping her head down to him. Shippou understood her meaning at once and grabbed two handfuls of her ruff, pulling himself up and onto her back. There he laid down his head, wishing desperately for the throbbing to stop.
He must have collapsed then, in a state of exhaustion--or at least he could remember nothing between then and the dim realization that they were in the air, and the horrible smell was no longer in evidence, except for the hints of it that still clung to Kirara’s fur. Shippou’s vision was still dim, though--perhaps it was only wishful thinking on his part--he thought the greyness was a bit brighter than it had been before. He had no idea how long they’d been flying, but it made him feel safe. Kirara was taking him to Kagome, and Kagome would make things all right.
Shippou was surprised then, when Kirara dropped to a landing soon after. He could hear the soft rushing of a stream, and the wind in the leaves, an odd chirping of birds...beyond that, silence. No Kagome (or Miroku or Sango or even Inuyasha) rushing up to greet him, to lift him from Kirara’s back, and voice thanks that he was okay. No one there, only Kirara and him. He sat for a moment, numb, as he let this sink in. Kirara dropped her head and he slid off, losing his footing and falling to his knees as he hit the ground. Kirara voiced a questioning whine of concern, carefully offering one large paw to help him up.
Shippou stood and allowed himself to be guided to the bank of the stream. He cupped his hands and dribbled a bit of water into his mouth, spilling most down his front. The cool, clear liquid was like pleasant electricity in his parched throat and he lay on his stomach and lowered his face to it, gulping so quickly he scarcely had time to breathe.
He felt Kirara, small again, at his side. Shippou finished drinking and rested there on his stomach, head swimmy again, but no longer throbbing so insistently. Kirara mewed and touched her nose to his cheek, then raised her head and drew her rough tongue carefully over the side of his head. Shippou winced, touching his head and finding it caked with blood. “It’s okay, Kirara. I can wash it.” He lowered his head to the stream and wet it, massaging slowly to work out the matted dirt and blood. There was a large lump there, and a gash that he probed hesitantly with his fingers, finding it long but not particularly deep. As Shippou washed out the wound it began to bleed freely again, and he wanted to cry in frustration. Then he remembered the ribbon tying back his hair and pulled it loose, folding it double and pressing it to his head.
“Kirara?”
Her reply was not immediate, and he began to panic, struggling to stand. “Kirara!” Then she was beside him again, giving a muffled meow before she dropped something at his feet. He knelt and reached for it. A little fish, still wriggling and gasping for breath. He felt a weight drop heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Kirara,” he began, trying to keep his voice even, “where is Kagome?” She gave a helpless mew and shifted restlessly. “Inuyasha?” A quiet whine, and she began to pace. Dread gripped him tightly and he struggled to think straight, to remember....
Naraku. There was Naraku, and the air thick with shouki; choking them, blotting out the stars themselves.... Dimly, Sango’s voice echoed through his mind: stay with Shippou, Kirara. No matter what happens. Keep him safe.
Shippou swallowed hard, reaching out a hand to Kirara as he realized who he should have asked her about from the start. “Kirara,” he whispered, “where is Sango?” The answer was a pained whine: hesitant, uncertain. She didn’t know. He tried to stand up straight and brave, tried not to let his voice quaver. “We have to go back and find them.” Kirara gave a whuff of breath, relieved but unsure. “I’ll be okay. We have to find them, though; we have to.”
She needed no further urging and stepped back, changing once more to her large form. Shippou scrambled up on her neck, feeling a warm trickle of blood flow down the side of his face. He unwadded the length of ribbon that was bunched in his hand and tied it around his head. It wasn’t long enough to cover the entire gash and still tie, so he positioned it as best he could.
Shippou began to smell the site of the battle within minutes--Kirara hadn’t taken him far then, just enough to get clear of the shouki. His fingers curled tightly around the fur of Kirara’s ruff. The scent of blood was clear again now, but whose was it? Kirara wouldn’t leave them if they needed help, a dark voice in his mind whispered. She wouldn’t leave them if they were still alive. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head to Kirara’s fur, wishing he could still believe he was safe with his father; willing himself to believe that, but knowing it was no use. He returned, desperately, to words that may have come from his memory or imagination, he wasn’t sure which. Stay with him, Kirara. No matter what happens. No matter what...
Shippou felt Kirara begin to drop from the sky and held his breath, wanting to hope, but mostly dreading, dreading, dreading.