– 31 –
.the auction.
At the end of the western world, she contemplates her choices.
Crossing from the bed to the window, she buttons her blouse, gazing out at the restless sea. The water here is clear as glass—clear as her intentions.
“You are leaving.”
She glances toward him only for a moment.
There is no need to answer.
Beyond the setting sun lies her homeland, an ocean’s breadth away. To travel any farther west is to find herself east once again.
It is a prospect she now faces in despair. It is the end of the mirage, the shattering of her illusion of progress.
And yet her hatred of him compels her onward, repels her with magnetic force.
Yellow eyes have followed her to where she stands. In them is a reflection of her own dim resignation.
He catches her by the wrist as she walks past. “This is a vain pursuit, Kagome.”
She knows that it is.
A pursuit as vain as his own.
Glaring down at him, she takes up her purse and says to him, “Let me go.”
Though she did not ask it, in the hard set of his jaw she finds his answer, even as he releases her.
For the moment.
…
Multiple flights booked in multiple names. Only once she arrives at the airport does she decide who she will next pretend to be.
“Kaiya Amano” her boarding pass reads. Closing her eyes, she reimagines herself, all the way to New York.
It is a place she has visited only a few years before. A place he will not be as likely to suspect.
In the crowded city streets, she finds the space to breathe again.
She resumes her studies of history and modern culture, searching for patterns, for answers to a circular question which she can only begin to frame. Her zeal is infectious as always. One acquaintance becomes another, and another still.
It is with one such enthusiast that she finds herself here now, exchanging discourse over cocktails in the gallery of an auction house.
The artifacts on display hold little interest for her, yet the activity is distracting enough to turn her thoughts from the knowledge that now shadows them.
From the dark, cold certainty that he is coming for her—soon.
Distantly, she hears the bidding begin. Ancient treasures are sold one after the other, destined for new homes, new masters.
In this, they are freer than she.
As the final lot is sold, an attendant rushes suddenly to the auctioneer, whispering fervently. The auctioneer clears his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, “I apologize for the confusion, but it appears we have a very last–very exclusive–item up for auction this evening. If I may have your attention, please…”
Murmuring, the crowd reassembles, as a covered display case is wheeled on stage. The covering is lifted, and a description is relayed, though not a word of it reaches her ears.
The world around her is silent. Her eyes are riveted on the item behind the glass.
A fire ruby, as large as a hen’s egg.
Her hand rises to match the opening bid, and again to match the next. When the gavel falls at last in her favor, she exhales a shuddering breath.
A staff member approaches her to make arrangements for delivery.
“May I see it now?” she asks instead.
He leads her to a private gallery. In the center of the room lies her prize.
“A moment please,” she says absently, stepping forward to claim it.
As the door closes at her back, she opens the lid of the display case. From its bed of lush dark velvet, she plucks out the gleaming red jewel and rests it in the palm of her hand.
Light pools in the facets, trembling faintly as the sheen in her eyes.
Two centuries of loss, crystallized now before her.
She does not hear the door open behind her. It is a shift in the air, a prickle of dark current along the ridge of her spine that causes her to turn.
A streak of silver in his jet black hair, but other than that he is unchanged. Golden eyes glint at her as he grins.
“Hello, Hime-san.”
Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi