For anyone who might care, InuYasha's background is kludged together from canon and the fanwork Hero in the 21st Century (http://www.hibernatingbats.com/). InuYasha remembered his mother well, despite being quite young when she died. Perhaps it was a trick of hanyou memory that the youkai part, infused with immortal magic, hung onto things better than the human half.
The Lady Izayoi was as beautiful as her noble status required her to be, and bore not just a half-magic son but a subtle power, unknown to the secretly-sneering courtiers of her husband, the Inu-no-Taisho, Lord of the Western Lands; and to her mortal family both. She fit in only because of how she was raised, not because she truly belonged.
InuYasha never belonged anywhere.
He looked down from his perch in the tree overhanging their campsite; Miroku and Shippou had not yet returned from refilling their water containers at the stream, as only Kagome and Sango chatted over preparing their evening meal. Kirara, the neko-demon, merely cat-napped.
Kagome.... he thought wistfully, then mentally ducked away from more specific and disturbing Kagome-centric concepts.
InuYasha was not the sort of person (demon, human or otherwise) to dwell on how mutually devoted he and Kagome had become; how like brothers the monk, Miroku and the little kitsume, Shippou, had become to him -- much more than his remote half-brother by blood, Sesshoumaru; how Sango the demon-hunter acted like an older sister as much as a friend. Even Kagome’s little brother called him ‘Inu-nii-chan’ -- Souta’s big-brother-figure and hero, admired while Mrs. Higurashi fed the hanyou to bursting.
But still, he admitted to himself, I did almost cry like some spoiled brat when I thought they’d died that time. It’d be... hard to go on without them... without Kagome. With a canine shake of his head, he shed his sentimental mood and dropped to the ground, joining his friends... his acquired family... over instant ramen noodle cups and fire-roasted rabbit.
InuYasha-tachi
InuYasha remembered his mother well, despite being quite young when she died. Perhaps it was a trick of hanyou memory that the youkai part, infused with immortal magic, hung onto things better than the human half.
The Lady Izayoi was as beautiful as her noble status required her to be, and bore not just a half-magic son but a subtle power, unknown to the secretly-sneering courtiers of her husband, the Inu-no-Taisho, Lord of the Western Lands; and to her mortal family both. She fit in only because of how she was raised, not because she truly belonged.
InuYasha never belonged anywhere.
He looked down from his perch in the tree overhanging their campsite; Miroku and Shippou had not yet returned from refilling their water containers at the stream, as only Kagome and Sango chatted over preparing their evening meal. Kirara, the neko-demon, merely cat-napped.
Kagome.... he thought wistfully, then mentally ducked away from more specific and disturbing Kagome-centric concepts.
InuYasha was not the sort of person (demon, human or otherwise) to dwell on how mutually devoted he and Kagome had become; how like brothers the monk, Miroku and the little kitsume, Shippou, had become to him -- much more than his remote half-brother by blood, Sesshoumaru; how Sango the demon-hunter acted like an older sister as much as a friend. Even Kagome’s little brother called him ‘Inu-nii-chan’ -- Souta’s big-brother-figure and hero, admired while Mrs. Higurashi fed the hanyou to bursting.
But still, he admitted to himself, I did almost cry like some spoiled brat when I thought they’d died that time. It’d be... hard to go on without them... without Kagome. With a canine shake of his head, he shed his sentimental mood and dropped to the ground, joining his friends... his acquired family... over instant ramen noodle cups and fire-roasted rabbit.