Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Sachi
By : Quillwing717
Category: InuYasha > General
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Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Woops! Lime alert, lime alert. A twist of citrus for flavor. Extreme caution past this point. Thank you. ^_^
Chapter 15: Kikyou
She was running.
She was running through thick, clinging darkness that sapped the energy from her legs when she needed it most. Invisible clawed hands reached out from the darkness to snag at her, to tangle in her hair and scratch at her stomach and breasts, to draw fresh blood each time she tugged out of their grasp. Her lungs felt broken and numb, and hopelessness sat cold and heavy in her stomach, a weight that pulled her further down with each step.
She was being chased. The darkness closed in around her, and she fell.
************************************************************** *******
Her head hurt.
Halfway through lifting a stack of bowls from one of the tables in the dining room, Kagome paused, drew in a sharp, silent breath, and massaged her fingertips against her temple. She'd woken with a headache, but it was the dull, background kind that she'd chosen to ignore. The moments of heightened pain that kept intruding on her day, however, were harder work through.
It was stress. It had to be. Between yesterday's excitement and the unfathomably strained atmosphere left in its wake, and the restlessness that had kept her from sleeping well during the night, she'd been feeling uncomfortable and tense all day.
“Housekeeper-san, are you all right?” Young Kawasaki-chan, one of the only guests still lingering over lunch while she waited for her boyfriend to finish with an afternoon bath, broke through the pain and distracted her. Kagome inhaled again, and by the time she'd breathed out, the throbbing had receded back into the distance.
She forced a smile for the woman who was staring up at her with such concern. “I'm fine. Just a little tired. It's been hectic recently.”
Kawasaki-chan nodded. “After that horrible attack yesterday, it's a wonder you're not still in bed. I probably would be. Maybe you should take some time off for yourself? I'm sure your friends wouldn't mind, given what you went through.”
Her friends. If only she could feel as certain as the young woman in front of her seemed. Yesterday's incident felt as if it had changed something of the dynamic in the Sachi, put its residents on edge around her. The change was subtle and Kagome struggled to define what, exactly, it was; Miroku and Kaede hadn't been unfriendly, just delicate and cautious—as if she were a puzzle, or an oddity to be studied, and she wasn't sure what to make of their reaction. The morning's meal had felt strange, filled with both easy, neutral conversations and quiet, measuring glances. Thankfully Shippou had been there to temper the strangeness with his bright chatter, otherwise things between the adults might have gotten awkward. And afterwards, when Shippou had scampered off to work on some of the daily lessons Miroku had been assigning him, she had felt the distance even more—
Her back straightened and she set the bowls down, to Kawasaki-chan's blinking surprise.
Distance. That's what it felt like. Small moments of distance that hadn't been there before.
InuYasha had already made his desire for distance painfully clear the previous night. The pounding had started on the roof again sometime while she and Kaede were preparing breakfast early that morning, but he hadn't made an appearance all day, not even after the noises from above had stopped and everyone had been involved in their plans for the day. Kagome hadn't encountered him, seen him, or even felt his presence since the dining room. Not once.
“Housekeeper-san? Do you need me to get someone for you?”
Kagome drew in a deep breath and sighed it out before she plucked up the stack of bowls once again. “No, I'm fine, Kawasaki-chan. Thank you for your concern, but it's nothing.” She whirled, heading for a hasty exit, only to bump into a smiling Mrs. Hidaka as she entered the room. The stack of dishes wobbled in her palms, but she managed to re-balance with the older woman's apologetic assistance.
“Housekeeper-san, I was wondering if you knew where I could find the manager? My husband said he wasn't feeling well and wanted to nap for a while, so I was thinking I'd like to explore one of those lovely hiking trails the manager was telling us about when we arrived.”
Kagome blinked at her. “Your husband is...” She knew a polite host would inquire about Mr. Hidaka's needs, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. If Mr. Hidaka suffered in agony for the rest of his stay with them, she would bless that god that had stricken him and thank him/her/it for the reprieve. Unrepentant over the thought, she attempted a fumbling shift of her stack that nearly sent them tumbling for a second time, then managed to shake her head. “I'm sorry, but I'm not sure exactly where Miroku is right now. Have you tried the front desk or one of the common rooms?”
“The front rooms...yes, thank you. I'll try there. Again, I apologize for bumping into you, Housekeeper-san.”
Kagome watched the woman flit out the way she'd come in, relieved that she hadn't seemed to notice the Sachi housekeeper's lack of concern for her husband, and wondering how such a nice woman could be married to such a horrible man. After a moment, she shrugged them both away and made her way back to the kitchen. Kaede already had the dishes in the sink, and stood with her back to the door.
Kagome deposited the bowls on the counter. “That's the last of it. Kawasaki-chan is still waiting, but she let me have her dishes. All that's left is to finish wiping the tables down.”
Kaede's response was a good-natured grunt. Kagome hesitated, then stepped back and watched for a while, her thoughts churning, trying to decide if the distance was real, trying to understand why if it was.
“What is it, child?”
She started. “What?”
Kaede didn't look up from the soap covering her gnarled hands. “Is there something you'd like to speak with me about? You seem troubled.”
“Troubled....” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, dread building in her chest. “Kaede, you're a miko, aren't you?”
Kaede did look up then, and her dark eyes were filled with surprise. “Long ago. I obviously no longer spend my days in a shrine. Why?”
“So if that had been you being attacked yesterday, instead of me, you could have done the same thing, couldn't you?”
A fond, wry smile twisted Kaede's lips. “It is...unlikely that the outcome would have been the same for me.”
“But why?”
“Because you are far stronger than I. Very few humans have the innate talent to purify through touch alone. The vast majority of us must use conduits such as weapons or sutras to direct and control our power. The ability you demonstrated is unique, limited to only those with the strongest, purest forms of power.”
Kagome's heart sank. “We're not the same, then.”
“No. You are far above me in terms of raw talent and potential.”
“Am I dangerous to Shippou or...or any of the other youkai here?”
An uncomfortable emotion flickered in Kaede's gaze. “Not unless you wish to be. The humans who work with police and the government train for many years before they are able to put their gifts to any practical use. The amount of control and skill you used to save both yourself and InuYasha, despite such a remarkable expenditure of power, leads me to believe you have already been taught such things.” Her expression was gentle, but her eyes curious. “The only way you could hurt anyone is if you were trying. There is no need for you to fear for us.”
“Yes, but—”
Most people believe that the spiritually talented exist to help both human and youkai alike, to foster peace and safety. They're wrong.
A whisper in her head, disembodied and genderless. Shock froze Kagome to the spot. Her head was throbbing again, in an almost-but-not-quite-painful way that both was and was not a headache. She punched her fingertips hard against her forehead, trying to control it. Panic, fine as a butterfly's wings, kicked up a violent beat in her chest, and something pushed its way out of that blank void in her mind where so many of her memories should have been.
Hundreds of years ago, perhaps, they would have been right. But now....
“Kagome, what is wrong? Are you in pain?”
Control. Destruction. Profit. What was once a serious struggle has become a game. We are....
“If something is hurting you, you must tell me.”
You are....
Overwhelmed by a wave of cold fear, Kagome shook her head, rejecting the whispers with harsh, emphatic jerks. Pain—real pain—crashed through her brain and the voice vanished, along with whatever knowledge had been trying to assert itself. She sucked in a breath, clutched at her temples, and doubled over. Kaede called her name again and hurried towards her, worry vibrant in her voice.
By the time Kaede reached her, the pain had ebbed. Kaede's hands were reaching for her head as she slowly, cautiously, straightened, her palms sliding away from her face. She tried to focus on Kaede, but the older woman seemed strangely blurry. She blinked, and felt wetness seep down her cheeks.
Tears? Why was she crying? Why was there so much pain and sorrow clogging up her chest?
Kaede looked stunned. She pressed a hand to Kagome's forehead, her face intense with concentration. “What happened?”
Somewhere deep inside, she was trembling. “No, I'm—”
I heard a strange voice, and it was telling me things I don't understand.
The words died on her tongue, because she was suddenly terrified. She had the sense of standing at the edge of a cliff and looking out over nothingness, the sense that going any further would mean the loss of something infinitely precious to her. It didn't even matter that it didn't make any sense; she just couldn't talk about it. “I'm fine. Just a...headache.” Even though the pain was almost gone, and receding as they spoke.
Kaede seemed taken aback. “Oh? Is that so?” Kaede's black gaze met hers, wise, searching. “Is there nothing you wish to tell me?”
Of course Kaede didn't believe her. Kagome wouldn't have believe her, either. She bit her lip and pleaded silently for Kaede not to push. “No.” Not yet. Not before I've had time to absorb it. Voices in one's head wasn't something one automatically shared, even with the most trusted of friends. “I'll go finish the dining room now. And then I was thinking of taking a nap, if that's all right with you? I didn't sleep well last night.”
Kaede studied her silently, then gave a gentle nod. “Perhaps that would be wise, given that you're not feeling well.”
Kagome relaxed a bit and returned the nod. “Thank you.” They both knew what she was truly thanking Kaede for, and they both knew it was only a temporary reprieve. She would have to talk about it soon. She started to turn away, but Kaede stopped her.
“What of the guests, Kagome? Any difficulties?”
She gave her a blank look. “Difficulties? Why—” Oh. Right. Hidaka-san. Funny how, in less than a day, he'd become the least of her problems. She pursed her lips. “No. Hidaka-san seems to be feeling ill as well. His wife left him in their room. I don't think he'll be a problem today.”
And hopefully not for the rest of the week, either.
A troubled expression crossed Kaede's face, but she simply nodded again. “Rest well this afternoon. I'll need you for dinner.”
********************************************************* ************
Kaede found InuYasha outside, high in a tree, lying along a thick branch and brooding at the sky. He could have avoided her—he’d smelled her coming way before he’d heard or seen her—but he wasn’t in the mood to move. Not that he was particularly in the mood for one of her wise recriminations, either. He had a damn good reason for spending avoiding the Sachi, for staying away from the miko in his place. She knew damn well what finding out about Kagome’s powers had done to him.
Kaede didn’t have Miroku’s patience, or his subtlety. “InuYasha. Why haven’t you done something about Mr. Hidaka?”
The words of dismissal he had prepared clogged up in his throat and his eyes darted down to glare stupidly at Kaede. “Huh?”
Kaede sounded…. Oh hell, Kaede sounded really pissed off. And she glared right back at him, eyes hard and obsidian. “Kagome’s situation with Hidaka-san hasn’t changed. I had thought that you would do something about it by now—recent events not withstanding, Kagome is still one of the Sachi’s staff, and such a situation simply cannot be tolerated by the Sachi’s proprietor.”
He blinked, then slowly came up to a sitting position on the branch. “What the hell are you talking about, you crazy old hag?”
“Hidaka-san, InuYasha. Kagome came to me with her problem first, and I assured her that you would handle it. I understand that much happened yesterday, but I cannot allow his treatment of her to continue any longer. I had assumed you would understand the necessity of seeing to it quickly. ”
Treatment?
Something unpleasant sprouted in his gut. InuYasha scowled down at the old woman, thoroughly irritated that he wasn’t following the conversation properly. “I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you old hag. What problem? I didn’t hear anything about a—”
Problem. He sucked in a breath and his spine straightened.
I have a…problem, and I was hoping you could help me with it.
Oh, damn. She hadn’t been talking about sex, had she? No, of course not; it didn’t make sense, not after the relative peace they’d had for the past few days. He’d just been so stressed out and wound up about it himself that he'd jumped to conclusions. He blinked a few more times before his scowl returned in full and black force, and suspicion bloomed in the back of his mind. “What problem, and who the hell is Hidaka-san?”
And just what the hell is he doing to give Kagome problems?
Less than a minute later, he was off the tree and storming across the terrain towards the Sachi. Kaede yelled after him, but the only things he heard her say kept repeating in gentle, tortuous rhythm in his head.
Inappropriate attention…propositioning…blackmail…touching Kagome….
The red haze was back over his vision, and the youkai inside him licked its chops in anticipation of blood. For once, his human impulses and his youkai impulses were in complete accord, infuriated beyond reason. He didn’t even care that he didn’t know which of the guests Kaede was talking about. He’d just track the bastard down and slice off his scummy hands.
Kagome was one of his. She was under his protection, and had been since the fucking moment she’d come into the Sachi. That the bastard had dared to violate or harm anyone in his territory was unforgivable. But the fact that he’d violated Kagome—
A deep, snarling growl rumbled up from his gut, into his chest, through his head, and with supreme satisfaction that mocking voice inside his head acknowledged a truth he'd been doing his best to ignore for quite some time: she wasn't just one of his. Kagome was special.
And that son of a bitch was dead.
****************************************************************** **
In a way—in a very stretched, distant, distorted way—it was just as much her fault as it was his. Had she done what she'd told Kaede she was going to do, she would have been in her room, sleeping, instead of aimlessly wandering the halls, deep in thought. And had she been paying any attention at all, she would have noticed the tall, skinny man who'd started trailing her not long after she left the dining room, and taken steps to avoid him. On the other hand (she would decide later), it was probably a good thing that she hadn't because she suspected he would have simply found her in her room. As it was, his fingers wrapped a hard grip on her bicep right next to the laundry room.
Her eyes widened at her change in direction, but her reaction time was sluggish, and before she got her bearings, she found herself shoved inside the tiny, deserted room, right across from where the old washing machine sat open and ready for the next load of linens. Hidaka twisted her arms up behind her back, then pressed his body into hers, using his meager weight to keep her arms squished uncomfortably between her back and the wall. His hands grabbed at her body roughly, rubbing along her hips, up to fondle her breasts and down to grip at her thigh through her jeans.
She gasped and struggled against him, trying to free her arms. The pressure he kept on her body was bruising, and the awkward cross of her limbs was making them go numb. “Hidaka-san, let me go!”
He smiled that slime-coated smile. “It’s time to repay me for your inexcusable rudeness the other night, Kagome.” He squeezed her breast, firmly, and tugged her shirt free from the waistband of her jeans. He leaned down and put a wet, saliva-slick kiss next to her mouth; her stomach heaved in protest. “It took a while for people stop watching you after the excitement yesterday, but I’ve finally got you alone. Now you can convince me not to ruin this quaint little inn everyone works so hard to keep going.”
So much for him being sick, she thought, revolted by his touch. His entire body was pressed so tightly against hers that she had no problems feeling the hard bulge of arousal digging into her stomach, and fury rose to join her disgust. “I said no! What will your wife say when I tell her about this!?”
His hand clamped onto her breast again, this time through her exposed bra. His fingers dug into her skin, and she couldn't stop her pained response. He smirk-glared down at her, his body squashing hers so hard that she was starting to have a hard time breathing. “Tell my wife, and the Sachi won’t be the only thing that suffers.” His voice took on a mocking cast. “Besides, she'd never believe you. She knows how much I love her.”
She glared back at him, even more infuriated for his wife than she was for herself. “We’ll see, won’t we?” The disrespectful bastard; no way in hell would she just stand there and let him have his way. She jerked her knee up, going for what she knew worked. He blocked it, but the action brought his chin down, and Kagome threw her head up as hard as she could. The resulting crack was hard enough to make her vision blur.
He gave a pained curse and jerked away from her, just enough for her to get her arms free. Even though they felt bruised and bloodless, she shoved at him and managed to slide from between his body and the wall. She tried calling out for help, but couldn't manage much volume in her desperate lunge for the half-closed door. Hidaka, with his much longer stride, was right behind her. As she passed through the door, Kagome gripped the edge and threw it closed behind her. The door slid like oil, slamming against his shoulder. He howled in pain, but kept coming, stumbling into hallway behind her. She was running, but he caught up to her quickly. His bony fingers gripped at her shoulder, and she whirled on him, fully intending to scream. His hand mashed down on her mouth, muffling the sound and pushing her back into the wall. She glared at him, her heart pumping madly in her ears as she sought another avenue of escape. Her fingernails flailed at him, but he grabbed one of her wrists and twisted until tears sprang to her eyes.
His eyes glinted at her from behind his glasses. “You’ll regret that.”
A growl echoed off the walls of the corridor.
Kagome sucked in a breath at the feral sound. At the same time, a hand clamped down onto Hidaka’s shoulder, and he was suddenly off her, thrown back against the opposite wall hard enough that a loud thwack echoed from the impact. Hidaka found himself staring, breathless, disoriented and in pain, down at one very pissed-off looking hanyou. InuYasha's claws dug into the delicate skin of the taller man’s neck, his infuriated golden eyes narrowed on Hidaka’s face, sharp teeth flashing through the dangerous growl still vibrating in his throat. “Son of a bitch!”
Kagome blinked, dazed by the speed at which things that had changed, and her limbs started to tremble. “In-InuYasha.” Feeling weak and light-headed, she sank down onto her knees right in the middle of the corridor—it was either that, or topple over.
At the sound of her voice, InuYasha turned slightly so that he could take in the sight of her, slumped and pale on the floor; she had one hand over her mouth, the other hugged close to her body, the red marks on her arms on full display. His expression tightened, and his fingers twitched, digging into Hidaka’s neck. Blood trickled from between his fingers, seeping down into Hidaka’s shirt.
The Sachi's most prominent guest let out a strangled screech. “Stop! You're hurting me!”
InuYasha rounded on him with a fist that made a satisfying thud when it hit Hidaka's skinny face, snapping his head back at a painful angle. “You weak fuck! I haven't even started hurting you yet!” He led Hidaka's stunned form crumple like a paper doll, and was crouching next to Kagome by the time Hidaka hit the floor boards.
His fingers skimmed down her arm. She flinched at the touch, unable to suppress the reaction. His eyes went wide, his ears gave a perturbed flick, and he started to pull away. Panic blazed and her stomach muscles clenched almost painfully. Her hands shot out before she thought better of it, grabbing his hand between her own and holding on tight and trying to will her heart back into a normal rhythm. He stiffened beneath her touch and his eyes jerked back to hers, fury still dominant in their depths but gentle concern a close second. His heat burned against her palm, comforting as a flame in the darkness.
Kagome drew in a deep breath and tightened her fingers around his tense ones. “Thank you,” she breathed, feeling pale. “I was...a little worried.”
He blinked at her, going breathless and still for an unreadable moment. Then, to her utter relief, she felt him relax. His fingers curled around hers, and she felt the faint tip of his claw against her knuckle, a hot, comforting, secure grip, one she wouldn't mind having access to more often. He shifted his body until he practically surrounded her, a solid force between her and Hidaka, offering his strength in his typical non-verbal way. She responded in kind, leaning forward to rest her head against his shoulder while she fought to compose herself; she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and felt the awful tension melt from her muscles, gradually going limp with relief.
“Hey.” The fingers of his free hand brushed against her shoulder, almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid of doing her further harm. “Are you okay? Did he—” a pause, and faint curl of his lip, “—do anything?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said—in a voice, she was pleased to hear, that sounded stronger. “I'm fine. Just a few bruises from running into things.” She drew another deep breath, willed the strength back into her spine, and sat back away from InuYasha until she was looking at the way Hidaka's skinny frame had just started to right itself in the corner, his face already starting to purple and swell, the same hands that had grabbed at her so offensively now clutching at the vivid red smear across his neck. She made sure to pin him with as much defiance as she could muster. “He just scared me a little. I'm fine.” There was a bit of residual deep-muscle trembling, but she figured that would wear off after a few minutes. After all, all things considered, the bastard hadn't gotten very far.
And InuYasha had helped her. After yesterday, she hadn't been at all sure he would. One of the distinct coils of anxiety that had been dwelling in her gut since then unwound, and she felt nearly sick with the relief.
He might not trust her, but he didn't hate her. And that gave her hope for the others, too.
It took her a moment to realize that his response to her assertion had been another deep growl. His free hand abandoned her shoulder to grab at her wrist; he made no move to shake her grip on his hand. “You're not fine. You're shaking.” His eyes narrowed again, and he turned his glare over his shoulder at the cowering human male. “What. Did. He. Do?”
Kagome started to shake her head, but Hidaka made an indignant noise through his nose and started struggling to his feet. “What did I do? This an outrage! I was merely asking your housekeeper directions through this ridicul—Gah!”
And just like that, InuYasha's hand and the reassuring heat of his body was gone, and Hidaka's face crunched into the wooden floorboards, courtesy of that same hand. It happened so quickly Kagome could only note the way the claws on InuYasha's fingers dug harshly into their guest's skull, the way the fresh spray of blood from Hidaka's nose stained the wood. She winced at the crunching sound and wondered how much scrubbing it would take to clean up the blood, surprising herself with how unsympathetic she was to Hidaka's squeal of agony.
InuYasha's lips had curled back in a full-blown snarl. “Whatever else she said to you, she didn't ask you to scare the shit out of her, or to put those fucking marks on her skin, asshole! So just shut your mouth, or I'll go ahead and beat you to hell right now!”
Kagome's eyes widened. He was so angry, his non-human canines bared in harsh threat, the golden color of his eyes narrowed and darkened; it was almost frightening. In fact, it should have been frightening. That the sight of an infuriated InuYasha wasn't scaring her witless was vaguely disconcerting.
As Hidaka whimpered out a shrill, squeaky imitation of acquiescence, Kagome scrambled to her feet. She approached them quietly, her steps muffled but audible. InuYasha didn't glance up at her as she placed a calming hand against his shoulder blade. “InuYasha.”
He ignored her, putting painful pressure against Hidaka's ribs with his knee. Kagome could swear she heard bone scrape against bone. “This is him,” he said, voice rough. “The bastard who's been bothering you.”
Kagome's eyes flared in brief surprise. “Kaede told you.”
“Yeah,” he gritted out. His glare slid to her for a moment, and she winced again, “Kaede told me.”
“Please.” As much as some part of her enjoyed watching the smarmy man squirm and bleed, Kagome suddenly wanted nothing more than for the whole thing to be over. The adrenaline crash she felt at the help, from such an unexpected source, had left her bone-weary of the whole thing. “Just make him leave.”
Another growl. “Damn fucking right he's leaving!”
Then InuYasha was on his feet, Hidaka's above-average length half-standing, half-dragging from his fist, the human's eyes wide and white-rimmed as he tried to keep the sharp claws from cutting his skin like they cut his shirt. InuYasha's other hand closed down around her wrist, and the three of them made a loud, embarrassingly obvious procession through the halls of the Sachi, heading for the entrance and picking up a following of stunned guests along the way.
******************************************************************* *
Hidaka's body made a loud crunching sound when it hit the snow-laden gravel beyond the porch.
Miroku came hurrying out behind them, looking beyond alarmed at the spectacle that had just paraded past his front desk. “InuYasha! What’s going on?”
InuYasha didn’t even spare him a glance. “This son-of-a-bitch thinks he can just help himself to women who don’t belong to him.”
Miroku looked shocked. “What?”
The growl in InuYasha's voice only got deeper as he watched Hidaka struggle to his feet, and the light in his eyes grew murderous. “The stupid bastard’s been putting his fucking filthy hands on Kagome since he got here. And I just found him all over her in the hall, getting rough with her.”
“Oh?” Miroku’s voice cooled significantly, and a deep, quiet anger darkened his gaze as he looked over Kagome’s appearance as she stood, still held close behind InuYasha. He took in her mussed clothes and hair, the red marks on her arms, then asked quietly, gently, “Is this true, Kagome?”
She hesitated, glancing up at InuYasha’s stiff back, then nodded.
Miroku’s expression went dark and nearly as dangerous as InuYasha’s. “Then, I suppose we have no other recourse. I believe you already understand this, Hidaka-san, but your status as a guest at the Sachi is officially revoked.” He sent an appraising glance over the man in the dirt, his voice dispassionate. “You should start walking. Sonkyou is a fair distance from here, and the next rail car won’t be coming for another two hours. Please don’t ever return.”
“W-what?! But I’m a guest at your establishment! I’ve already paid a more than generous fee!”
Miroku looked less that impressed. “And of course, you will be refunded fully for everything you haven’t used. Minus a small fee for your abuse of our housekeeper, of course. Now I suggest you leave quickly, or our owner may decide that a simple beating isn’t enough in the way of punishment for your overstepping your boundaries.”
Hidaka stared at the gathering of people on the porch. “Don't be stupid. I was only doing what she wanted me to do. Prancing all over the place, throwing out those inviting looks. Your housekeeper caused this by deliberately enticing me, and this humiliation is the result?! How insulting!”
“How dare you?!” Red-hot outrage burned over her embarrassment, and she stepped around InuYasha until she could see Hidaka's dripping-and-bruised features. She trembled at the effort it took to hold back from adding fresh marks to the ones swelling his face. “I told you to stop! I said repeatedly that your attentions were unwelcome, avoided you at every turn, and still you kept coming—cornering me in my own kitchen and forcing yourself on me whenever I turned around! I tried to—”
“He did WHAT?!”
“Ah! InuYasha stop!” She latched onto his forearm as he jerked her back behind him, desperate to stop him before he could step down off the porch. “It's finished! He didn't do anything irreversible. Please stop!” The way he looked, she was sincerely afraid InuYasha would kill Hidaka if he got his hands on him again. Kagome didn't care about Hidaka; she did care about the trouble InuYasha could get himself into if he hurt Hidaka. It was already looking like Hidaka had gotten the worst of the physical damage; if his face kept swelling like that, he was going to need a doctor, and that would cause even more problems for them.
He listened. Barely. His bare feet stopped right at the edge of the porch. The muscle and skin underneath her fingers felt like hot granite. She couldn't hear his fierce growl, but she could feel it vibrating through every fiber of skin and bone.
InuYasha's eyes had narrowed into near-slits; their yellow intensity pinned Hidaka down with a murderous glare. “Get out of here before I really do kill you.”
Hidaka paled. “Don't take me for a fool! That's murder! You'd be—”
“Murder. You don't even know what that means.” InuYasha's sharp canines seemed particularly dangerous when he bared them at Hidaka. Or maybe it was the deliberate way he considered the human male. “You think I'm afraid of jail?”
Miroku stepped up behind Kagome, the movement subtle enough to draw Hidaka's attention. The small, pleasant smile on his face raised goosebumps all over Kagome's skin. “I advise you to remember what a dangerous place the Daisetsuzan can be, Hidaka-san, before you convict anyone of anything more than an unfortunate accident.”
Kagome stared between InuYasha and Miroku, and felt some of the blood drain from her cheeks. They could do it. Neither man killed easily, she was certain. But they could do exactly as they threatened if they deemed the situation appropriate. And this might very well be one such situation. It was a startling realization, one she tucked away for later study before she swallowed, fear and regret chasing off the fury that had just pushed her forward. Everything had gotten so far beyond what she'd wanted and into the very thing she'd been trying to avoid.
“This—this is outrageous!” Hidaka staggered to his feet, babying his nose and trying to get the blood to stop flowing. “I’ll sue you! I’ll have you arrested for assault! I’ll—”
“You’ll do what, Shirei?” Mrs. Hidaka’s voice bit into the afternoon, even colder than the air. Everyone turned to find her standing in the open doorway, stiff and formal as she stared at her husband. She surprised Kagome. She looked nothing like the warm, cheerful woman who had been fluttering around the Sachi for the past week. “I suggest you do as the manager says, Shirei, and start walking.”
Hidaka paled. “Noriko, you can’t believe—”
“That you were only doing what she wanted you do?” Her acerbic tone silenced her husband more effectively than InuYasha's beating had. “I warned you what would happen if I ever again caught wind of anything like this. This is the last time. I will pack our things and follow you shortly.” Mrs. Hidaka turned and bowed deeply to Kagome, regret in her voice. “I should have listened to my father. He warned me that Shirei was a bad man at heart after the last time he was caught with another woman. I thought if I gave him one more chance we could....” She shook her head. “I beg your forgiveness for bringing him here and subjecting you to this despicable treatment.”
InuYasha didn't even look at her, never took his eyes from the trembling man standing in front of the Sachi. “Lady, your choice of mates is none of my business, but if I were you, I'd get rid of this fucking loser.”
Kagome sucked in a breath, but Mrs. Hidaka didn't even flinch. Back rigid, the older woman inclined her head in a dignified acknowledgment. “Indeed.”
“But, Noriko--”
InuYasha growled, then stepped down and out of Kagome's grip. Mr. Hidaka squeaked and stumbled back a few more steps, but InuYasha stopped with his feet in the snow. “You've got three seconds to get moving, you bastard—” he lifted a hand and curled his fingers so his knuckles cracked threateningly, “—before I escort you into town.”
Hidaka's eyes flew wide and he darted a panicked look at Miroku. “But I'm wounded! All this blood might attract something—”
Miroku shrugged. “I suggest you walk quickly.”
“Three.”
Hidaka looked at his wife. “Noriko!”
She looked away.
“Two.” InuYasha took another step.
Hidaka threw up a hand and started away at a backwards half-run. “I'm going, I'm going, you crazy monster!” He stumbled once. “But you can be sure I'll be filing a police report the second I get into town! I'll have you in jail by this evening!” Then he turned and limp-jogged away from the Sachi. InuYasha was still growling.
He was almost out of sight down the gravel road before Mrs. Hidaka spoke again. She turned to Miroku. “I apologize once again for his treatment of your staff, and all the trouble this may have caused everyone. Please keep the money we paid you as compensation, and if you'll allow me a phone call, I'll make sure no such report is filed on my future former husband's behalf.”
Miroku looked delighted. “Is that so? Well, of course we will do our best to accommodate you, despite your husband's indiscretion.”
Kagome blinked at Mrs. Hidaka, having a hard time reconciling the bright, happy, flighty woman who'd arrived earlier in the week with the stiff-postured, dignified version standing proudly on the porch behind her. She bit her lip. “I'm sorry,” she offered, feeling inadequate but wanting to offer some kind of support.
The smaller woman turned her head and her face softened in a sad smile. “I am as well. This trip was our last hope, but.... Perhaps there is something to Sachi's legend after all.” She tipped her head towards InuYasha. “You are lucky, Housekeeper-san, to be with someone who cares so much.”
InuYasha's feet thumped against the wood as he stepped up onto the porch behind Kagome before she had a chance to process Mrs. Hidaka's meaning. She gave a start when she realized he was still growling, but his hand snagged her elbow before she could turn. “All right. It's over. Everyone can go back to doing whatever the hell they were doing before.”
Which, of course, brought to Kagome's attention once again the fact that almost all of the guests had gathered onto the porch to watch their embarrassing little drama unfold.
InuYasha’s hand tightened around Kagome’s arm, and he strode past Mrs. Hidaka, back into the depths of the Sachi. Kagome was forced to follow after him, stumbling only slightly at their speed and burning a furious, shamed red at the number of gaping faces. It seemed the whole of Sachi had turned out for the ruckus, just in time to see the Sachi’s owner unceremoniously dump a prominent guest into the front yard in a very public humiliation. She pressed her lips together. Everything had turned out exactly as she hadn’t wanted; she couldn't have imagined much worse.
InuYasha paid them no attention at all. He just tugged her along, not rough but forceful, all the way into the kitchen. He slammed the doors shut behind him, tugged her over to the table, yanked the first chair he grabbed around, and sat her down on it.
She sucked in a breath, trying to gather the courage to look up at him. “InuYasha—”
He dropped to a crouch in front of her, wrapped his hand around her jaw, and turned her head. “Don't.” He tucked his nose in the crook of her neck. “Just...shut...up.”
Kagome went very still as her heart slammed against her chest in a jerky, untamed rhythm. She could feel his snuffling, his heavy breathing, the hot rage coming off his body in waves. She felt his lips, burning against her skin. “You’re taking a bath, now. Burn these fucking clothes—and I mean burn them.” A growl, a snarl. A rumble deep in his chest that she felt vibrate across the shallow space separating them.
Kagome shook her head, still trying to catch her breath. She wasn't afraid, just...speechless at his reaction. His hand gripped her face, aggressive, fiercely controlled. She felt his body everywhere against her, and his free hand rested with an almost delicate touch against her waist. She swallowed, her mind flashed back to Hidaka’s repulsive aggressiveness, and for a brief second, her heart constricted with fright. But no, not like this. Hidaka hadn't been the one to overwhelm her senses with his heat and comfort her with his presence. InuYasha was the one Kagome trusted; she wanted him, and didn't even bother to deny it. Her body and mind welcomed his touch with the same violent passion with which it had rejected Hidaka's.
His teeth slammed together with a loud snap, and he moved down, trailing his nose along the dip in her neck, skimming against her collarbone. A heated shiver rippled across her skin, following his touch, spreading out, over, everywhere. “Fuck, the bastard’s stink is all over you! Where else did he touch you?” His mouth burned against her bare skin, but it felt so good that she was afraid to say anything, was sure he would stop if she did.
But then he stopped anyway, pulling back just enough to glare at her. “You stupid bit—next time tellsomeone, damn it!”
Um....
Blink. “What?”
He was scowling, snarling, furious. “Why the hell didn't you say something to me? I would have kicked that sorry fuck's ass out the door before he had a chance to get his hands on you!”
Blink, blink. “But, I tried to—”
His fingers flexed on her waist, digging enough so she felt the tips of his claws through the material of her shirt. “Don't let stupid shit get in the way of telling me something important!”
She stared back at him, caught halfway between anger and arousal. Her mouth dropped open. “You...you! Who was being stupid? How about next time, you listen when I try to tell you something?” Her skin felt hot and tight across her body, and deep in her muscles she trembled—from the adrenaline, from the rush of molten heat, from the racing of her heart in her chest. Damn him! He was so...frustrating. She tried to jerk to her feet, but his hands firmed on her waist and kept her in her seat. She glared at him, breathing hard.
He glared back for a long moment...before he averted his eyes. His teeth ground around his words and a growl underlined them. “So what? Next time, be clear! Just tell me. I can't fix it if I don't get what the fuck you're saying.”
For a moment, Kagome thought her blood would actually boil. A rough sound of rage ripped from her throat, and without conscious thought, she grabbed at his ear and yanked. His head came around, his golden eyes wide and shocked. “I was clear! You're the idiot who decided I was saying something I wasn't! Do something about your hearing!”
Air hissed between his teeth and he jerked his ear from between her fingers. The loss of the warm, silky-fine texture made her fingertips tingle. She curled her fingers into a fist and pressed it against her thigh, trying to ignore the thrill that zinged low in her stomach. He didn't notice her hesitation. His eyes had narrowed and his face was red, the veins in his neck prominent in his rage. “I'm the idiot? You're the one who decided you needed to handle a pervert all by yourself. Stop trying to handle things on your own, damn it!”
“I was trying to keep things from getting out of control! What else was I supposed to do?!”
“Tell me! And keep telling me clearly even if I'm being the kind of moron who won't listen! That bastard could have really hurt you! You don't have the fucking right anymore to take your own damn safety for granted! Everyone worries about you enough as it is!”
Oh.
Most of the outrage blew right out of her, leaving only the heat and the adrenaline—and his touch, both phantom and real, all over her body. Eyes wide, she stared again, really looked...and saw it. That intense, irrational anger? That was real; but beneath it, deep under all that fury was a shade of fear. Regret. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the hands he let grip so harshly into her skin. And it was for her.
An ache gathered in her throat, and she let her chin drop to her chest so that her hair hid the dampness that welled in her eyes despite her best efforts to stem it. Her mouth trembled as she fought against the urge to sob.
InuYasha gave a start at her sudden withdrawal. “O-oi! Kagome, what—” He stopped, swallowed audibly. “Are you...are you crying?!”
I thought I'd done something unforgivable.
His hands moved to her shoulders, shook her—gently. “O-oi! Why the hell are you crying? Stop that!”
The panic, the pure horror in his voice almost made her laugh. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with her fingers, trying to keep the tears from spilling and embarrassing them both further. “You jerk,” she whispered.
“You—what?!”
I thought you were going to keep ignoring me.
A peculiar phenomenon: she could feel all of him. His irregular, stuttering breath, his baffled expression, the fight-or-flight tension of his body as he crouched mere inches away. She could even smell him, though he would probably give a derisive snort if she said so: earthy male, hot skin, sharpened by the bracing scent of pine.
I thought you'd stopped caring.
“Kagome?” His hands loosened on her shoulders and hovered just above them, as if he were afraid that touching her would un-dam the floodgates she'd managed to staunch.
She looked up, and wondered if he was close enough to tell how fast her heart was beating. And honestly, how was it fair that she sitting here all hot and bothered, and he was mere inches away from her, completely unaffected?
He swallowed again, but looked immensely relieved that her tears seemed to be under control.
She reached out and cupped the side of his face. Shock flickered in his eyes, but he didn't pull back. Then she leaned forward and didn't stop until she felt the heat of his palm pressing into her breast.
************************************************************

This time it was InuYasha who froze.
Oh no. Oh shit. Oh god of willingly celibate males everywhere.
He had his hand on her breast. The realization hit him like a cheap body blow.
Round. Soft. Pliant. All those wonderful things that made the female body so addicting to the male psyche. All those wonderful things he'd been pretending he didn't miss for the past five years.
He looked up into wide, violent gray eyes. Not anger, no—passion. Naked desire. Longing. She wantedhim to touch her.
The shock of it wiped away his anger and stirred up a tsunami of molten urges. His body jerked as he instinctively tried to move—whether to pull his hand away or simply get a better grip he didn't know. It didn't matter anyway, because her hand clamped down onto his before he could do anything else. Her smaller fingers slid between his larger ones and she pressed him deeper into the softness of her chest.
His breath clashed as he tried to exhale and inhale at the same time, while his mind struggled to respond and his body laughed derisively at the fight. His gut twisted, then went warm and tight and hard.
Oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Something in his brain blared alarm.
The hand on the side of his face cradled his cheek softly, pulling, urging. His treacherous body didn't even attempt to resist; and then her mouth was on his: hot, wet, coaxing, enthusiastic.
Oh, fuck. He was stunned.
She was kissing him. Again.
Her tongue slid over his lip, into his mouth. She licked, then sucked, then pressed a little harder. Tilted her head and sighed into him.
She was kissing him, and she was damn good at it.
Yes, he thought as electric pleasure sizzled from her mouth out along his limbs. Fuck.
And then he stopped thinking.
His hand moved again, and this time it was a caress, calloused fingers catching on bothersome material as they stroked the softer skin it covered. The insistent protrusion of a nipple beneath his thumb, the low moan of a sweet feminine throat. His free hand was on her waist, kneading the dip, feeling out the separation of slim torso from gentle flare of hip. Her hand slid from his cheek to his neck, and her fingernails dug painfully into his skin, marking him, staking a claim.
His growl was nearly feral in its satisfaction. But it only lasted long enough for him to realize that there wasn't nearly enough contact between them. His grip on her waist tightened, and he tugged, sinking to his knees and taking her with him. She came off the chair easily, her body flowing into his, melting over and around him, her thighs draping his hips, her breasts molding against his chest and her tongue clashing more fiercely with his. Nothing shy or timid in this kiss of hers; she attacked him with exuberance, her arms sliding around him to press closer, her fingers taking up sharp hold on his shoulders.
His body burned, an inferno of heat and anticipation. Blood thick and churning, pounding through to his very fingertips, the prickle and agony of pleasure centering on his groin, which was nestled against her just as snug as it had been the last time they'd done this. She moaned again, rubbed herself against him, clamped her teeth down on his lip and tugged before he could stop her. Another growl ripped through him, and he responded by gripping her hair and tugging her head back in blatant domination—and her excited gasp and subsequent sensual wriggling made him feel like exploding. Her scent...her scent was spicy and beckoning, mesmerizingly thick, a bewitchment to his most sensitive sense and both salve and spur to his youkai instincts. The only thing wrong with it was that...foreign scent.
Her boldness pleased him; her aggression pleased him; that scent did not. That infuriating, weak, offensively male scent that wasn't his and had to be eradicated as quickly as possible. He needed to get them out of their irritating clothes, get inside her so deep that his scent would be the only thing left on her. What the hell had she been doing letting some other male get so—
His eyes snapped open and his head jerked back as a pang of remorse cut through the indulgent fog silencing his judgment. The kiss broke so suddenly that it left them both disoriented, panting and shuddering.
Shit.
What in every level of hell was he doing?! She'd just been attacked by some pervert—and here he was, not ten minutes later, a scant three layers of clothing away from fucking her hard against the godsdamned kitchen floor.
Kagome blinked at him with eyes clouded and urgent. “What...why...stop?” Her chest heaved, her voice barely a seductive husk, her soft breasts cuddled against him in delicious temptation. Lips an abused and blood-flushed pink, anticipation written into every line of her yielding body.
Lust thrummed a pounding, insistent beat in his head. She must have realized his hesitation because a frown made a tiny mar in the skin between her brows. She shifted, drew her thighs up around his waist and pressed the soft hollow of her jeans against the bulging ache of his.
He shuddered, groaned, fought with himself.
...Just three scant layers...
“Don't,” she said against his mouth. “Not again. Please.” She licked him, her tongue a warm, wet lave across his mouth, and he couldn't keep himself from grabbing at it with his teeth, angling down to cover her lips again.
Well, hell. She obviously didn't want him to stop. Thank the fucking gods, because he wasn't sure he could. Some part of him tried to speak up, to remind him that there was another reason to stop, and stop now, but she was touching him and he couldn't think—didn't want to. Her fingers found their way to the hem of his shirt, then beneath it, and her cold fingertips tracing over the planes of his stomach, over stone-rigid muscles and smooth hot skin. Shivers rippled through him as she flattened her hands, stroked up until her fingers brushed over his nipples, then down over his abdomen and hips, tracing every dip and hollow. Her nails dug into his flank, and hot damn he liked that.
He groaned again, into her mouth, his hands somehow inside her clothing, dragging callused fingertips over the soft dip of her spine, working her shirt and sweater up, up, up.
She whimpered, twisted against him, broke the kiss for air then came back for more.
Frustration threaded the red-hot haze blanketing his brain. His blood throbbed, beat in his head; lust sank nearly painful claws deep into his gut. He really needed to get her out of her clothes, but they'd gotten themselves twined too closely together. He tried to push her away, intending to take her blouse and outerwear in one strip, but she protested with another moan, slid her arms up his back and clung close.
Growling, he tore his mouth away from hers, gripping her shoulders and pushing her back. “Wait! Just let me—”
In her kitchen. He couldn't believe it.
He sucked in a breath and almost choked.
Oh, shit.
Kagome stared up at him, hair wild, eyes clouded with pleasure.
He'd seen this picture before, long ago, with the only difference a pair of dark brown eyes more aware and reserved than the misty gray ones in front of him now. That time, they'd both been in chairs around her kitchen table, and she'd been—
—letting him get clumsy with treating the jagged, bloody scratch on her arm. The attack hadn't been his fault, but that scratch was, and he felt obligated to help her with it.
She'd watched him through those inscrutable, gentle brown eyes, quiet after her first few protests that the scratch was nothing had gotten her snarled at. The heavy silence was making him nervous; he kept fumbling the bandage. The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was cool, soft, smooth. Her scent, that odd mixture of so many things that should have been unpleasant but weren't, filled his nostrils.
“We work well together.”
His eyes darted up, away from the cloth bandage that he was trying with so little success to secure around her arm. He grunted. “You shouldn't have tried to take it out by yourself.”
Her gaze didn't waver. “It's my responsibility, and I already told you, I'm not affiliated with your group.”
That calmness of hers was agitating him, churning up his blood. His fingers tightened around her forearm; the bandage got bigger as he wound it another time. “Don't tell me you didn't need help. If I hadn't come along when I did, that thing would have had you for dinner.”
A small smile curved her mouth. “You don't need to worry about me. I wasn't in any danger.”
He snorted. “Who was worried about you? I live in this area, too, you know. Someone finds the shredded pieces of a famous miko all over the place tomorrow, and they'll start looking at the nearest youkai.”
“Famous? That's hardly the right word.” Her smile flickered. “I'm just an anomaly to them. They don't understand me. They don't even understand what I do.”
He circled her bicep again; it was starting to resemble an overstuffed sausage, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Her strange scent was so weirdly tantalizing, clouding his other senses and making him feel fuzzy and stupid. “They don't know what you do.”
“And you do?” she murmured, dropping her eerily calm gaze to his busywork.
“I know what your file says. I know what I found you with in that alley. Shit like that doesn't make it into police or news reports. People would panic. They think they live in a peaceful world; they think youkai are all like them, or that the ones that aren't are never a problem.”
“My file? You honestly think a file will tell you anything useful about me?” For the first time, her mask of calm cracked a bit, showing anger. “I see even youkai subscribe to bureaucratic nonsense these days. Most people only see in me, and in the world, what they want, and therefore will never see what I am. A file is nothing more than a record of what other people see.” Just as quickly, the crack mended and she paused, considered him. “But you're not the same, are you? You know what it's like to be separated and alone because of your differences, don't you, hanyou son of the great Taisho-sama? That's why you keep coming to me, because you recognize something in me.”
“Differences,” he sneered, then shrugged. “People are what they are. I am what I am. I don't give a fuck about differences.”
“Is that so?” He didn't answer, and her hand covered his, stopping his worthless ministrations. “InuYasha, I'm fine. I don't need it.”
He bristled, but couldn't bring himself to pull his hand out from under hers. He stared down at her slim fingers, the vaguely calloused skin crossing over his knuckles. Excitement whispered through his body, the same way it had since he'd first seen the famous miko who'd moved into the area sitting at that tiny cafe across from his shop. The same way it had when she'd noticed him staring and walked over to speak with him. She had a quality about her that was both repulsive and attractive at the same time, and as strange as it was for someone like him to want someone like her, it was real. He wanted her—had for a while—and tonight, right now, with all that post-battle adrenaline thrumming through him, that want was overwhelming.
She knew. She was always so irritatingly sure of things. “You know what I think?” She leaned forward over their arms until the weight of her breasts pressed against his skin.
His eyes narrowed, but the excitement inside of him was no longer a mere whisper.
“I think that in the same way you understand what I mean when I say they can never know me, I can understand what it is that draws you to me. And what draws me to you.” Her face was so close, turned up in offering, her lips a scant few inches away. He was leaning in, too, without even deciding, getting closer and bending his head until he could feel the brush of her breath against his mouth. “I also think that makes us both uniquely qualified to understand certain other things about each other, don't you?”
And that was the last thing she said, because then he had her lips under his, her tongue a teasing, skillful whip in his mouth. He didn't know when she moved from her chair onto his lap, or when he lost his shirt and she hers, nor when the bandage unraveled and fell to the floor. What he did know was that her skin, which was usually so cool, warmed to his touch, and that her body, which he thought of as so tough, softened and accepted him, maybe even welcomed him. He knew the addicting, almost numbing pleasure when she moved over and around him, the sparkling bits of power-pain that enhanced it all, and the stunned bliss that blasted the distance from her eyes when she came in his arms. He knew the satisfied exhaustion that lasted only long enough for her to take his hand and lead him into her bedroom.
And later, he noticed her blood smeared on his hand.
That night was their first time.
The pain hit him, a dull, searing knife in his chest. But...it wasn't enough. He shook his head, tried to make his hands let go of Kagome's shoulders and failed miserably. For the first time, a memory hadn't made a scrap of difference. Her face was there in his mind, but it wasn't having the impact he'd hoped. The temptation of Kagome, warm and wrapped around him, was more real and intoxicating and...important?...than the mistakes he'd made in his past.
The mistakes he couldn't afford to repeat.
Fuck.
He swallowed. Closed his eyes. Forced the word past his throat. “Kikyou.”
Kagome blinked at him. “What?”
But the name he hadn't heard in five years had done the trick. The sour taste of betrayal and grief twisted round the lust in his stomach. His hands slipped from her shoulders and he scrambled backwards, out of her surprised grip. Kagome tumbled backward off his lap to sprawl on her butt; her shoulder hit the chair and sent it scraping across the floor. She looked up at him with disbelieving eyes, hair as tumbled and mussed as her body.
He stared back at her, hands flexing as he fought against the urge to go back to her, to get her off the floor and into the nearest bedroom—or closet, or chair, or whatever the hell would get them undisturbed and him inside her fastest. The realization hit him with a terrible, sinking sensation, as if he were drowning. Her name had been a temporary fix at best. It would fade away, and eventually he would cave—and this time, there would be no recovering. Not from Kagome.
It was a disaster waiting to happen. He couldn't see a solution.
But as she sat there staring up at him, he saw her disbelief slowly turn to hurt. He cursed himself as the source of that hurt, hated himself for it, but didn't realize just how much damage he'd done until she spoke.
A soft, timid voice. “Kikyou? Who is...Kikyou?”
**************************************************** ********
He left her there, on the floor, breathless and panting and aching.
He'd scowled, reminded her to take her bath, then walked away. He'd studiously avoided touching her again. She wasn't blind; his body hadn't been any less raging with want than hers, but he'd walked away anyway. The frustration he'd left her with was almost enough to make her cry. The fact that he'd left her with someone else's name on his lips did, very briefly.
Kagome took her bath, helped a cosseting Shippou burn her clothes (apparently InuYasha had been serious about that), and set about trying to get back to her routine. It was surprisingly easy, even nice, because some of the tension that had sprouted with the youkai attack had been dispelled with the human one. Miroku, Shippou, Kaede—even InuYasha, from a safe, physical distance—they all seemed to forget they were being wary of her, and the warm friendship returned as if it had never left.
True to Mrs. Hidaka's word, no police report was ever filed, no inquiry ever made into Mr. Hidaka's injuries. The day after the Hidakas dramatic exit from Sachi, Miroku made a few discreet calls to some acquaintances in Sonkyou, and found out that the couple had spent the night in separate rooms in Sonkyou's most expensive hotel, then promptly checked out and left the next day—accompanied by a small army of suspicious-looking men in suits. The small army had, apparently, been taking orders from an iron-faced Mrs. Hidaka.
So the Sachi recovered and moved on. InuYasha continued to avoid her, though his disappearances weren't total now. He made appearances at meals, ate quietly, left quickly. Never looked at her. It still hurt, but at least she had a better idea of why now.
She hadn't missed it, of course. That one moment of clarity after she'd asked her question. The cornered, desperate look in his eyes. The sorrow before that. Whoever this Kikyou was, she'd been very important to him at one point, and he'd been hurt for it. And that realization was almost enough to send her into depression.
Almost. Her curiosity saved her. She felt as if she'd been given a glimpse of a puzzle piece that was very important to understanding why InuYasha acted the way he did, and after a bath and a few days of emotional recovery, she was determined to find out more.
************************************************************
&# 8220;Who is Kikyou?”
The kitchen stopped. The remaining occupants literally froze in their tracks in the middle of breakfast.
Miroku, his chopsticks hanging halfway to his mouth, cocked his head, and odd, shuttered look darkening his violet eyes. “That's a name I haven't heard for some time. Where did you hear it, Kagome?”
Kaede sat in her seat, dark eyes fixed on Kagome, who sat across the table from her. Shippou had already eaten and vacated the room, scurrying off to check on the guests for Kagome. InuYasha had made an extremely early appearance that morning, eaten and secluded himself with some project in the attic. He hadn't told her what, and she hadn't asked—mostly because every time she tried to ask him anything, he cut her off and left, and that wasn't a habit she wanted him to start establishing at meals. The bottom line was, he absolutely refused to talk about this Kikyou person.
Kagome hesitated. She wasn't concerned about their reaction, but she did feel as if she should tread carefully. Whoever this Kikyou was, InuYasha hadn't spoken of her lightly, and Miroku and Kaede, even if they were aware of who she was, weren't likely to want to delve into whatever incident she'd been involved in without good reason. “She...InuYasha mentioned her.”
Miroku's frown was skeptical. “InuYasha did?”
Kagome lifted her chin and held his gaze. “Yes, he did.”
He didn't respond right away, finishing his bite searching her gaze while he chewed, calculating and weighing. Kagome held her breath. Finally, Miroku sighed. “If you want to know about that name, you should ask InuYasha to elaborate.”
“But he won't tell me anything else.”
Miroku paused again, his hands around his bowl this time. He arched one brow at her and asked, not unkindly, “If he won't tell you, then why do you think I should?”
She bit her lip, but accepted the point. Miroku was InuYasha's closest friend. They'd obviously been through a lot together. The question hadn't been fair.
Kagome sighed, cast a less-than-hopeful glance at Kaede, then swore she saw the older woman's lips twitch.
“It is good that InuYasha spoke of her. It would be an even better thing if the things he spoke of had substance.”
In other words, get him to tell me himself? Kagome thought. Gee, thanks.
The name Kikyou seemed to have an odd effect on Miroku and Kaede as well, however. Miroku's brooding gaze didn't lighten with the dropping of the subject, and he made short, quiet work of his breakfast, then suddenly stood and said something about going into town if anyone needed him before exiting the room. Kaede's reaction was much more subtle: she decided to work in her cabin for the day, and promised to be back in time to help prepare dinner. All of which left Kagome wondering, with some despair, just how important this Kikyou had been and why none of them would speak of her.
And why this invisible woman seemed to be the one insurmountable obstacle keeping InuYasha away from her.
************************************************************
Tha t afternoon, feeling restless and unsatisfied, Kagome decided to make a western-style cake—a little after-dinner treat for the guests so that they, at least, would be pleased, even if it felt like no one else was. Shippou glued himself to her side, cheerfully helping her measure and blend, all the while eyeing the mixture with greed. It was a restful afternoon, probably because Shippou was the only one who didn't seem to have a problem with either her new-found powers or her new-found curiosity, and once the majority of the batter was properly poured and in the oven, she surrendered the remains to the kitsune for a thorough licking.
Kagome sighed and rested a forlorn chin in her palm. She glanced down at the kitsune happily scraping the bowl on the countertop beside her. “Shippou?” She asked, not feeling optimistic.
He grunted as he swirled his little tongue around the wooden spoon. “Hn?”
“You don't know who this Kikyou is, do you?”
Shippou stopped mid-lick and turned his face up, eyes round. “Kikyou? Where'd you hear about her?”
Kagome blinked, then lifted her head. “InuYasha...said something about her. She sounded important. But no one else will tell me anything about her. Do you know who she is?”
Shippou cocked his head, and let the spoon drop back in the bowl. “You mean who she was?”
Kagome frowned, then turned so that she was facing him, an uneasy ripple sliding down her spine. “Was?”
“Yeah.” Shippou hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess if InuYasha talked about her, it's okay if I do it, too. She was his girlfriend after all.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “His girlfriend?”
Shippou nodded, then picked up the bowl and peered intensely within, as if by will alone he could make more batter appear. “Yeah. I never met her, but she was a powerful miko like you. Kaede doesn't talk about her a lot, but she did say once that Kikyou and InuYasha were in love. I guess he was gonna marry her.”
Pain pierced through her, deep in her chest. “Oh,” she said, breathless. He'd loved someone that much? Little wonder, then, that he didn't want to betray that memory by being with her. Kagome swallowed, curled one hand into a fist and tucked it against her chest. “What...happened to her?”
“What happened?” Shippou stopped staring at the spoon, and shot her a startled look. “She's dead. InuYasha killed her.”
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A/N: Hello! It's been a while, yes? My apologies, since I've been either extremely busy or extremely depressed for the past few months. A big apology to the inquiries people have been sending me about my stories. Now that I'm back to my normal self, I'll be able to give them the personal touch I try to give all my correspondence. Yes, btw, I am planning on finishing both of my major WIPs, so they haven't been abandoned or anything.
And seriously, thank you for still caring. These stories have become more involved and complicated than I ever envisioned them being when I started them. Thanks for sticking with me through the dry spells.
What was that? Next update? Um...no idea, but I'm working on it, as always. Anyway, so that's the latest for drama at the Sachi. Let me know if you loved it, or hated it, or “meh'd” it. (I think things are finally starting to get interesting, but that's just me personally.) 'Till next time,
~Quill
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Sachi	By : Quillwing717 Category: InuYasha > General Views: 18692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Sachi