The Awakening by ZooZebra

Chapter 1

A/N

No, I have not given up on Rewind. I wrote some of this out a few years ago, but I never got around to editing it. So, now,

I'll be updating both stories on no set schedual. Being a mommy really takes a lot of time ^_^#

P.S. - sorry about any grammar errors and odd layout. I'm using crumy old notepad since I lost my previous word processor. Hopefully soon I'll ammend it, but for now, feel free to point anything out to me :P

P.S.S. The little poem towards the end of the chapter is written by me. I did not plagiarise any work, since I would hate to have it done to me.

The Awakening

Chapter 1

There is something peculiar about how roses seem to have different scents, yet they are the same flower. Some are far sweeter than others. Still, they all smell like a rose. I like the way peach roses smell. You would think I like the way jasmine smells, considering we have a jasmine tree in the backyard by our family shrine, but I don’t really. Well, unless it's brewed into my tea. I’m an extremist when it comes to tea. I drink it religiously every night before ten and every morning with my breakfast. Prefering exotic flavored teas depending on which time of day, I choose orange blossom for the morning, and chamomile or jasmine at night. I can’t stand that grocery kind you buy in large packages. Those are too artificial and not nearly as delightful to enjoy and I have mine shipped from London. I know, I know; a little tooextreme for tea. But like I said, I’m an extremist when it comes to tea.

Back to roses. I like those peach ones that are darker right at the tip. They seem to brighten my room where ever I put them. This is exactly why I bought some today. Living with two sisters, twin brothers, a really fat and lazy cat, a susperstitious grandfather and my mother who was a single parent - I needed all the subtle, whimsical treats where I could get them. My sister Sango, who just turned 17, is very close to me since we're around the same age. We rock to the same tunes, love the same art, we even have this eerie thing where we know exactly what the other is thinking or about to do. But let me be the first to tell you though that Sango is also very much her own woman. She has a lightness to her that lifts the spirits of everyone around; and for that I’m grateful. There have been one too many times her humor saved me from a horrible car wreck of emotions. She's been involved in martial arts since she was 4 and it shows in how sturdy her walk is and her calculating eyes. But likewise to her humor, I always seem to be the one who can save her from her own wrecks, too. I’m the first she calls when a problem arises since she claims I’m this wonderful advisor. Apparently I know exactly the right words to say. I really can’t disagree but I can say that most of the stuff I pull right out of my ass. Just a bunch of tips and helpful words strewn together by an ever thoughtful mind. And for being only 18, I must say I have a lot of helpful words and tips.

Sango and I can’t get all the glory either. Our other sister, Rin, is equally an individual. Rin’s only eight, but she’s a smart little devil. Cunning, actually. She is probably a better problem solver than any of us at her age. She is a monster at math.  I wish I was that good. I might be able to get an A in algebra for once in my life. I should introduce her into the art of being an accountant when she grows up. Hmm, might help with future tax crap that I’ll need to deal with.

Souta and Kohaku were twins, born with boxing gloves on their infant hands. They took to martial arts as efficiantly as Sango has, and she prided herself in that fact. I had to admit, they were a frightfull bunch. Reminicing slightly on their practices in the backyard, I suddenly chastised myself. "Oh, here we go again," I said bristling to myself. I’m sitting here staring at my roses when I have so much work that needs to be done. Onto dinner-making! I should at least have the salad done before Sango gets back from shopping or else she’ll have a-

“Kagome! Where’s that cat? I’m going to kick his sorry ass all the way to Utah! He peed in the living room,” Sango screamed as she burst into our room.

“I dunno. Maybe cowering in the kitchen. I know I would be if you were after me.” I sneered at her scowl.

“I’m not kidding. This is the fifth time this week Buyo blessed our living room with his urine. I thought mom took care of his potty training?” She twirled a long, curly, black strand of hair in her fingers as she talked. She always does that when she’s ticked.

“She did. But it looks like that cat’s got his own set of rules he’ll be following.”

“Well it won’t be for long or mom will have him living outside.” She sniffed the air a little and a look crossed her heated face. “Did you start dinner yet? It’s your turn today and I’m hungry.”

“I know. I’m just sprucing up our room a little before hand. It’s good to be in a happy mood before doing anything as intricate as preparing a salad and frying some chicken and broccoli,” I said comically. She isn’t the only one with humor, you know. I like to get under her skin occasionally. Ok, maybe a little more than occasionally. “And by the way, have you heard they actually freeze chicken now and put it in a bag? With the broccoli and peppers all cut up and ready to cook? All you gotta do is put it in a pan and presto, it’s done! It’s amazing!” I just couldn’t help myself sometimes. And the look on her face is always worth it.

“Stop pretending to be a know-it-all and go do something useful,” she said turning to exit the room. “Now where’s that cat?” she asked herself.

I love her. I really do. Its such loving and sisterly conversations like these that make life in this house so unpredictable. I should probably pray for Buyo because Sango won’t have any mercy for that poor thing.

After a long day of tending to the house with my mind half present, I decided during the late hours of the night to finally sleep. The clock’s hour hand had just caressed 3 am and I was still deep into my writing. You see, I’m a daydreamer and most daydreamers make the best writers. I can’t seem to rip myself away from the words that pour from my hands like a raging waterfall. It’s also another passion Sango and I share. She’s more of a song writer. She has a spectacular set of vocals. It’s actually quite impressive. I wonder if she ever got a call back from this guy who owns a record company. I’ll have to ask her that later.

My fingers typed away at my keyboard furiously. They were relentless on the little square keys. I chuckled to myself imagining a cartoon version of me with smoke emitting from the keyboard as I stared at the screen unblinking. I realized a while ago that I have an over imaginative disorder. But what can I say? That’s what makes me such a good writer. It's like I’m lying down in a field of grass and I’m staring up at the sky where the clouds are forming words and picture ideas for me to use in my writing. It always made me feel so at peace to work with my mind in that place. I suppose that’s my over imaginativeness again. Whatever it is, it has gotten me three awards at school for literacy competitions and straight A’s on every single essay. Speaking of school I should be going to sleep soon. Tomorrow will not be an easy day at school since I know for a fact that I will fail my chemistry exam. I have such great chemistry with writing, and no chemistry with the actual class. Oh, the sad irony.

The next day, as Sango and I were walking to our university, my eyes drifted from crimson trees, to orange trees, trees as yellow as the sun. Autumn was here and I had never felt so fantastic in my life. Aside from every other autumn these past eighteen years. The smells tickle my nose just right, the colors always make me smile, and my wardrobe is always fit to match. Today I decided to wear a skinny, cream colored pashmina scarf, black three inch heals, grey skinny jeans, an amber knit sweater and a brown shirt under it. My hair was down in loose brown curls. I actually took a lot of pride in my hair. Naturally, my hair was curly and fell right at the small of my back. It’s pretty long, but I can make it anything I want with ease. Some days I’ll have it in tight curls, other days it will be straight, but on most days I have it mostly straight with loose curls at the ends. Like today for example.

Sango had been talking about this new guy she had been crushing on the whole walk to school and I barely heard a word she had said. I’m really glad our sisterly intuition thing we got going on doesn’t let us mind read. She’d be a lost puppy in my head.

“That’s why I don’t want to make the first move, you know what I mean?” she asked me sighing heavily.

“Um, yeah, totally. Besides, he’s the dude right? He should be the one chasing after you,” I said cautiously. I really didn’t want her to know I wasn’t listening.

“Exactly! Thank you! Finally someone who gets it. Oh and don’t worry about not paying attention to what I was saying. You well enough made up for it,” she smiled and waved to me as she ran off to class. Damn it. Ah, oh well. At least she’s not mad. I glanced down into my purse to see if I had remembered to put my cell phone on vibrate. I stuck my hand into it and jumbled around feeling for a rectangular shaped thing. Speeding down the hall way quickly as the warning bell rang, I was so preoccupied with my purse I didn’t even have time to react when I quickly glanced up realizing what was about to happen.

“Ouch!” I fell backwards and my books went flying and all the contents of my purse spilled out. There was also a body that fell on top of them.

“I’m sorry, I was in a rush and I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I grumbled. I was way to embarrassed to even speak convincingly as I gathered up my things.

“Hn,” a resounding male voice said. Oh no. I knew that voice. I looked up shocked and I could just feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Sesshomaru Taisho, the hottest, most debonair, most wanted teacher in school with those beautifully amber eyes that reminded me of honey, extended his hand to me as he rose. I was dumbfounded by him. His face was perfectly carved with a prominent jaw line, perfect straight nose, trimmed eyebrows and high cheek bones. I followed the skin from his face to his neck and nearly fainted at the sight of a few chest hairs sticking from his shirt. It was nothing grizzly. They were the same color silver as his hair, despite his young appearance. But that was just fine with me. He was so… hot! I didn’t want to feel like any more of an idiot than I already did, so I took his hand and brushed off my clothes.

“I’m really, really sorry. I-I didn’t see you walking in front of me,” I stuttered trying to make the situation look a little less nerdy. As if stuttering wasn’t nerdy at all.

“Actually, I was just standing there when I got plowed by an unattentive student,” he said fluidly, amusment twinkling in his amber eyes. Great I slammed myself into him and he wasn’t even moving. There goes all the heat in my body rushing to my neck. I could feel myself getting redder by the millisecond. He bent down and grabbed my books and I bent to shove everything into my purse, grateful there wasn’t anything embarrassing in it today. I saw my phone buzzing on the floor next to my foot. Well, at least it’s on vibrate.

I straightened up smiling as he handed back my books. Considering I couldn’t talk, I just kept smiling.

“Your name is Kagome,” he said, rather than asked, fixing his leather jacket since it was crooked from me knocking into him.

“Uh, yeah. Kagome. Some people call me Kags. You can call me that if you want, haha. It’s just my real name is Kagome.” I suck. I need to shut up and just keep smiling. No more babbling, you idiot.

“I like it. It’s exotic sounding,” he said my heart jumped to my throat. Did he call me exotic? “My name is-”

“You’re Professor Taisho, Sesshomaru Taisho. I attended a seminar you hosted last year about swordplay” I said laughing nervously. He looked a little shocked that I had remembered. Why didn’t I just keep smiling?

“Yeah, with Mrs. Lin. Now that was a fun one. Especially when several students thought themselves a match for a master,” he said thoughtfully with a wicked gleam in his eyes as the bell rang. “Well, best be off, then. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, probably,” I said wanting flush my head down a toilet. He nodded his head acknowledging me and left me standing there ready to die. I couldn’t believe myself. I shuffled off to my chemistry class wishing I had a paper bag to put over my face.

First period came and went and I could not remove Sesshomaru from my thoughts. Class did not interest me enough to get my mind around him. To keep myself preoccupied I brought a notebook in which I wrote down ideas for the book I was writing about. But at other times I usually kept the notebook around to write down little poems that entered my head. My muse diligently kept watch at anything that could inspire me to write. So, pressing my pen to the paper, the words tumbled through the ink like tidal waves caressing the shore line at high tide.

The night, I swear, is alive

By that fire in your eyes.

Leave not, just stay with me,

Heart, know not to tempt me.

Drowning hope into my hungry veins

Familiar feelings unfamiliarly came.

Hand in hand, I fevered so

Sun don’t rise, I plead you, no.

Startling wake to my tussled bed

Mourning again…you’re just in my head.

I wasn’t entirely sure where it came from or who I was referring to. Reading my poem over again, I was left feeling slightly bemused by it. It was different from my usual work, but without a doubt my style at the same time. For one, I never used rhymes. I think rhymes were entirely over rated and were quite honestly meant for children books. To me, poetry was more like expressing yourself in a more colorful manner. Mixing words together as a witch would stir her cauldron to create a fantastic potion at the end. Poetry was like building a car; each part used to fashion something together to manifest into a grand design of smaller designs. But this was so unlike me. I also never wrote love poems. Then again, it may not be a love poem after all. It might be something even deeper than that. I was brought out of my musings when I heard the bell go off dismissing class. Shoving everything into my overly sized purse, I rose from my seat and headed for second period, still trying to decipher my own poem.

After failing my exam like I predicted, I ran into the bathroom to wash my face. It was still hot from before. Burning hot. Second period was much worse than first. I just could not get him out of my mind! I must have been more embarrassed than I even thought. I couldn’t get his eyes out of my mind. They seemed to have imprinted themselves there and I saw them whenever I closed my eyes. Actually, I saw them either open or closed. I did not mind it one bit, might I add. The gold in them was stunningly crisp and almost molten looking. They were like the calm in the middle of the blazing desert where if I didn’t get to it in time, the heat would for sure be the end of me. But at the same time, they kind of reminded me of ice. He paralyzed me with them. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. It got me all worked up. “Sango is going to have a field day when I tell her this one,” I sighed as I left the bathroom to face whatever else this day had in store for me.