Hidden Hanyou

BY : SheShar
Category: InuYasha AU/AR > General
Dragon prints: 5979
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor the characters, and make no money from this fan fiction.

The old Higurashi Shrine House- 1946

The young woman sat quietly near the window, listening to the gentle hum of the rain outside.  She felt feverish; her hair, usually an unruly shadow, was twisted tightly into a braid crown atop her head and her faded blue dress was lined with sweat despite the chilly air. Her eyes flicked over to the clock on the table. They were late.

After a few minutes, she placed her hands on her thighs and pushed herself up, the damp dress clinging to her curves. She was soft of body, tall and shapely, and in a time when many were starving, she was always full. Pacing back and forth, she began to think they would not come, that perhaps her friend had found another to shelter him or had discovered a way to take him on board the plane without his false identification.

His forged papers failing to arrive from his family in the States was the reason he would be hiding here in the first place. Though she no longer believed in any god, she closed her eyes and prayed that whatever the reason for the delay, both were alright.

Nervously rubbing her lips with the back of her hand, she decided to check the room one last time. She walked to her bedroom and stepped into the closet, turning left.  Careful not to disrupt a tower of boxes, she braced her hands to the wall and extended her leg until she sensed the wall give way to the force of her foot. Its hinges were hidden by a strategic bar of crown molding and it swung like her kitchen door in either direction, but on its side. The young woman crouched and allowed the weight of this secret door to run down her back as she crawled into the darkness.  By memory, she reached for the small lamp that sat next to a pallet on the floor at the far end of the narrow room. She clicked on the battery powered lamp and the tiny space lit up with a grimy, orange light.

 

The hidden room was long and narrow, its low ceiling adorned with several exposed beams.  There was a makeshift bed of blankets along the shared wall of her bedroom and though one could not stand fully erect, there was enough room for at least two adults to sit quite comfortably.  Kagome ran her hand over the soft fabric of the quilts and pillows.  The blankets of the pallet smelled fresh, though they were very worn, and two more cotton quilts sat folded at the foot of the bed.  She spied the waste bucket in the corner next to the lamp as well as three small crates pushed against the side of the wall closest to the door.  In the first, she had packed seven canteens of water and twelve sealed boxes of dried ramen noodle.  These were her last use emergency stores.  The next crate held around thirty books—books that had been deemed illicit and therefore were not fit to be seen by any guest or customer—books too cherished to throw away.  The last crate was intentionally left empty as a space for her new guest to store his belongings.    

Kagome paused for a moment, certain she heard shouting in the distance--but dismissed this as a symptom of her own anxiety.  She took one last look around. The room was tidy and clean for its small space, and although she hadn't seen its future occupant since she was a teenager, she knew he would not have reason to complain about the meager accommodations.

She turned off the light and lifted the little door until she had enough room to shimmy out. 

Making her way back into the sitting room at the front of her house, she felt sure that all was ready; she could do no more to prepare.  Her body felt tired, but her stomach and chest were lively with a mix of anticipation and dread.  She looked to the clock again.  It was nearly one a.m.

Something must have gone wrong, had to have.  They were four hours late, and to be seen on the streets at this time would warrant any human or the truest of demon a trip to the nearest Purification Center.

She picked up a book, and then set it back down. She sat in the quiet for some time, until the little clock struck two and someone began to frantically knock on the front door.



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