The Other Wife
By E. Marie E-mail: [email protected] Rating: R in later, currently unwritten chapters Type: Inuyasha/Kagome pairing Point-of-view: Kagome

Author's Note: May 29, 2003-What you are about to read has been stewing inside my mind for the past three months. If I had the time and an amazing attention span, I could sit down at this very moment and write this entire fanfic for you...but I have neither, and time is always a fleeting commodity. Know, dear readers, that the ending of this story is predetermined, but your reviews inspire me to complete my work. Basically, if you want to see an ending-REVIEW! If you hate it-tell me! If you love it-tell me! Otherwise, I'll assume no one cares if I finish this or not...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the rights to any works pertaining Inuyasha, nor am I receiving any reward, beyond personal satisfaction, from the creation of this series of short stories, (i.e. don't sue me!) Enjoy!

June 9, 2003: THE INSPIRATION FROM THESE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS I DREW FROM "REBECCA" BY DAPHNE DUMAURIER. I DO NOT INTEND TO FLAGRANTLY COPY HER WORK; I WOULD LIKE FOR THE MANY PARALLELS BETWEEN THE CHARACTERS OF THE MANGA AND DUMAURIER'S NOVEL TO BE RECOGNIZED AT LAST. "REBECCA" IS BUT A SPRING BOARD FOR MY IDEAS; IN APPROXIMATELY CHAPTER TEN OF AN ESTIMATED TWENTY, THE WORK BECOMES COMPLETELY MY OWN, WITH THE AID OF THE CHARACTERS OF "INUYASHA".

Prologue: The Wind in the Ruins

In the moonlight, I climb alone the overgrown road that once led to one of the greatest treasures of this island province. As I reach the top of a hill, the silver light plays tricks on my tear-filled eyes, and I imagine for a moment that I see a light shining from one of the windows of the north wing, from the room that should have been the nursery for our children. A cloud passes over the face of the moon, and my fantasy fades at the reality of the charred ruins before me. Where only blackened stones and fallen pillars remain, there was once a great dwelling that housed the width and depth of all the emotions felt by many generations of his great family. As the wind bites sharply at my thin frame, I shudder and recall the means by which this impressive house was brought to ashes, the evil that eats away at the root of every soul that submerges itself in darkness..
As the wind brutalizes my body once more, I think to myself, 'How ironic.the wind is what set this all into motion.'

Chapter 1: Meeting on the Crag by the Sea
The first time I saw him, I was transfixed by his beauty. He stood many meters above me, at the apex of the sea cliffs, watching the sun set into the ocean in licking flames of red. As the wind rippled about his lean, muscular form, I was stunned by the sheer beauty of his long, silver hair, flowing gloriously down his back. The red hues of the sunset and the effects of the sea breeze made his well-tailored white suit seem, for a moment, like the crimson ensemble of a feudal warrior prince. Even though I was some distance away, I knew in my heart that his eyes were amber.
He took another step closer to the edge of the cliff, peering for but a moment down to the deadly rocks below. Stretching his arms to the horizon, he closed his eyes and grew tense, so ready to end it all. I made an inaudible cry of horror, and , grabbing my bow and arrows, I stumbled hurriedly up the crag. When I was close enough to smell his earthy, masculine scent, mingled so intimately in the sea, I spoke the first words to the man who would be my destiny:
"Don't do it, sir!" I cried out, tears streaming down my face. "Please, step back."
Startled, he turned those eyes, (oh, yes, they were amber) on my face.and held my gaze for a long time, with an air of dismay, sadness, and a great familiarity, as if he had known me for my entire young life. Closer to him than before, I could see now that this beautiful creature was about a decade my senior and would never appear a second my elder if not for the great burden that drove him here.
Distracted by my thoughts, I had not noticed that he had moved away from the edge of the treacherous crag; his magnificent face now hovered but inches over mine. Our gaze had never broken. Swallowing hard, I could feel the last of my tears rolling down my face. He traced the path of that last tear with his left hand, and as the wind howled about us, he kissed my hand and disappeared quickly down the path toward town.
I am not sure how long I stood there, watching that man grow smaller by the distance between us. It was almost as though the image of him walking away was burned into my retina, and I swear I could see him long after he had vanished over the horizon. I felt a strange connection to this complete stranger, a deep instantaneous bond that I had only felt once before in my life...as a child, when I saw my grandfather for the first time and was swept with a feeling of mutual despair. My body began to shake, and I realized that, in my foolishness, I had stood on that cliff by the sea far beyond the sunset, and my thin summer dress was being flailed by the coastal winds. Darkness had seized the land and my spirits. Realizing that I could never gather the last of my arrows in the dusk, I collected what I had and followed the path of that wonderful stranger, going to my mistress to be berated for losing more arrows through a "lack of skill and horse sense."