Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

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.
Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: Inu and friends are not now, nor is it likely that they ever will be, mine. So let’s just enjoy them together and thank Rumiko Takahashi for her excellent imagination.
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CHAPTER 1: Opening (joban)

It was so faint he almost missed it. The acrid smell of blood.
But the almost non-existent trace that slipped across his nose was enough to grab his attention; it was so unexpected that he stopped short in surprise. His breath puffed evenly into the night, the thick streams of heated humidity barely visible in the darkness. He frowned, sniffing at the frozen scents in the air to investigate further. Blood in and of itself wasn’t an unusual smell in this part of the forest -- wild animals had to eat somehow.
But this…this was human blood, and it was close.
His expression darkened. Years had passed since he’d last smelled human blood, and the very presence of the scent in this part of the forest brought a growl of aggression to his throat. What the hell was a human doing this far from Sounkyo in this weather, anyway? Most of them were just city yuppies who thought they could survive the wild with a few survival guides and a cheap tent.
Damn stupid hikers.
They were usually smart enough to stay out of this part of the forest, though. The land in this particular area was steep, thickly overgrown, and filled with hidden holes, sharp rocks, and other natural dangers. Not even experienced tour guides brought people this way.
That’s why he chose to run here.
Although…. It really was too late in the season for hikers or campers. The temperatures at night had been dropping below freezing for almost a month. Huh. Strange. Too cold for the hikers, and no snow yet for the skiers. And yet, the blood he smelled was unmistakably human.
He pulled in another whiff of the scent and froze in his second shock of the night. The scent was distinctly female. All alone. And…barely alive.
What the hell?!
His perplexed frown turned to one of unease. Still sifting through scents, he glanced around cautiously, looking for the strange human. His feet followed his nose, moving quickly and silently through the closely grown trees, searching out the endangered female.
Now that he had it, the scent stood out starkly from the more agreeable blend of the various trees and plants crowding this part of the forest. The disturbing, familiar pungency might as well have been a beacon of light calling him through the darkness. Apprehension began to nip at his consciousness, demanding that he hurry.
Atop his head, soft white ears twitched slightly, and his head turned. A small river flowed nearby; he could hear the shallow rush of the water over rocks. The smell was coming from there. It only took him seconds to reach where the trees broke for the river to cut a narrow path through the forest. White and foamy, it swirled against the rocky banks, making everything slick and dangerous.
His gaze cut along the water, searching urgently for the human source of the scent. At first, he didn’t see anything unusual, and his eyes narrowed slightly in frustration. Then he spotted her, downstream a bit and smack dab in the center of the flow. He darted out into the current, ignoring the dull pull on his jeans as they soaked through, gritting his teeth as his bare feet actually started to numb. Shit. He may as well have been standing in ice.
His brows wrinkled in alarm as he reached her. She was on her side, half-in, half-out of the water, unconscious. She was damned lucky that the water was shallow. She was even luckier that it had wrapped her body around a slab of stone, the pressure keeping her high enough to breathe air instead of liquid. Curving his arms around her limp form, he peeled her away from her salvation and hauled her up.
His teeth snapped together in a grimace. Damn it, her skin was the same temperature as the water. It didn’t help that she wasn’t wearing anything but a long, thin cotton nightgown. What the fuck…? The thing was soaked and plastered and no protection at all. Long, tangled black hair clumped in a bloody mess around her head, hiding her face from him, but from her weight and curves, she was obviously an adult. He glanced upstream briefly, wondering just how in the hell she had gotten here in only a nightgown.
And then there was the little matter of why she was bleeding and unconscious.
Not that he had time to wonder for too long. She was almost frozen, her heart beating out an alarmingly sluggish rhythm. Hypothermia was undoubtedly setting in, if it hadn’t already. Kami only knew how long she’d actually been out here, or how long she’d been in the icy water. He had to get her warm.
He only hesitated for the merest second. Sounkyo was almost thirty minutes away through the mountains. He could probably get there faster than that, but he wasn’t sure he could find a doctor right away. Not only was the Sachi just a little closer, but immediate warmth was guaranteed.
He scowled down at the woman in his arms. Fuck. She wasn’t even shivering. He had to move fast, or she would freeze to death in his arms -- hell, she might anyway. Decision made, he took off running as fast as he could, tucking her as close to his body warmth as possible as the freezing wind began to slice around them.
****************************************************************** ****
He caught the glimmer of lights filtering through the trees within fifteen minutes. Far too long for the girl in his arms. He didn’t bother to slow down much, and he hit the door of the unassuming, two-story inn at almost full speed, ripping it slightly off its hinges; it banged shut at an angle behind him. Inside, the light was still on, but the decent sized reception room and entryway was empty, the welcome desk to the side deserted.
With a disgusted snort, he strode past the desk and into the first common living room, situated across from the reception area and just in front of the stairs, where he knew a fire would already be blazing. He yelled out roughly, his voice reverberating through the building as he laid the girl down on one of the couches close to the blaze. “Miroku! Get your lazy, perverted ass out here now!”
He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over her barely breathing form, and for a second, his breath wouldn’t come as he thought he was already too late. His fingers pressed against the chill skin of her bare neck, and he caught the faintest throb of a pulse. He blew out a relieved breath, then glanced up with a scowl at the footsteps that were moving quickly through the inn towards the entrance.
A tall, dark-haired man suddenly strode hastily past the open doorway, not glancing around to see the two in the living room. The footsteps stopped suddenly when they reached the entryway, and a glib voice drifted back into the room. “Well, someone was in a hurry, weren’t they? I can understand even a hanyou like yourself being cold in this weather, InuYasha...but did you have to ruin the door like that? Now we’ll have to secure it somehow before either one of us can sleep tonight. ”
His scowl deepened at the dry, complaining tone, and his lip curled in annoyance. “Forget the damn door, Miroku. Just go get Kaede, now. We need help.”
“Kaede? She’s probably already sleeping.” This time his voice sounded surprised, curious. Slippers shuffled against wood, and the dark-haired man appeared in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets. His dark eyes widened as his gaze swept the room, and he straightened, his expression going from mild interest to serious concern. “Who is that?”
“Hell if I know.” InuYasha dropped to his knees next to the drying heap on the couch, and started rubbing her bare arms, trying to massage the cold from her skin. “I found her in the forest, in one of the rivers. She’s freezing and she’s hurt. We need the old woman -- now.”
Miroku gave a grim nod, and disappeared without another word, hurrying back in the direction he’d come.
He frowned down at the girl, wondering if he should try stripping her. Her pale blue nightgown was still soaked through and plastered to her skin, molding over every curve and as transparent as those pointless scarves he sometimes saw tourists wearing. The damn thing was so thin she might as well be naked, anyway. He could see pretty much everything, even with his much thicker jacket now covering her torso.
Her face was still covered by her hair. All he could see was the curve of her chin and a very blue bottom lip. He reached up to brush the hair aside, then paused as his eyes went to the bloody mass of it clumped to the side of her skull.
His hands hovered, trying to decide if it was worth trying to reveal the area, or if his claws would just cause more damage than she already had. It was a head wound of some kind, although it didn’t seem to be bleeding nearly as much as he thought a head wound should. Frowning again, he pulled his hand away, deciding he was more concerned with her body temperature than her injury.
He pushed the hair out of her face. She was angled away from him, and he noted the curves of her profile, the smooth tip of her nose, the absolute paleness of the skin. Her eyelids were overly blue, and her lashes lay in inky black crescents against her cheekbones. He sat back on his heels, feeling both concerned and helpless, willing her to keep breathing. His eyes flicked aimlessly around the room, trying to think of something else to do that might help.
She moaned, a tiny, almost noiseless sound of protest, and shifted slightly. His gaze flew back to her face.
He blinked; his heart stopped; the world around him came a grinding halt.
Impossible.
But her face…. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. His lip curled, but the growl never made it out of his throat. His mind and senses blanked out, failed him, unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. He couldn’t think. It wasn’t possible. There had to be some other explanation. Of all the things he’d been thinking or expecting, it hadn’t been anything like this.
An indecipherable congestion of emotion, tinged with passion, tainted by bitterness, bonded in confusion, swirled together in his chest, then rose like stale bile in his throat.
Blood and agony. Sorrow and rage. Actions that can never be taken back.
His throat constricted; he choked on the memories and pushed them back by focusing desperately on her face. Her face….
Horror. Anger. Relief.
No. It just…wasn’t…possible.
He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t do anything, just sat staring numbly at the half-alive woman on the couch in front of him.
He was still sitting there when Miroku returned with several dry blankets, a medical kite, and the old woman in tow.
******************************************************************* *****
Kaede turned away from the girl lying unconscious on the futon, and focused on the silver-haired hanyou who watched her from the open doorway. “She is very lucky to be alive, InuYasha. Any longer without attention and she would have died.” The look in her obsidian eyes grew shrewd. “You saved her life.” She started to rise, unbending her knees painfully as she struggled to unfold a body made heavy and unwieldy with age.
With an irritated sigh, he moved into the room and lifted her effortlessly to her feet. She nodded her gray head in dignified thanks and brushed dirt from her skirt. InuYasha didn’t even acknowledge her, his amber gaze focused intensely on the futon. Wariness radiated from him, and he watched the girl like one would watch a snake. A confused frown marred his brows.
It wasn’t her.
What a fool he was. He should have known immediately -- after all, there had been nothing familiar in her scent to begin with. He’d let her face dupe him, allowed the shock to paralyze him. Damn, had that been stupid. He knew better than to trust his eyes alone. Then, seconds after the others had returned, so had his fickle senses, and he had done what he should have done to begin with: he’d inhaled, taken in her scent, studied it. Skin, pheromones, blood, hair -- every part of her scent screamed at him that this was a different girl.
Scent never lied.
It wasn’t her.
Leaning against the doorframe, Miroku bent his dark head curiously, his expression preoccupied as he also stared at the strange girl. “Do you have any idea when she’ll wake up, Kaede?”
The old woman shook her head, and sighed tiredly. “The hypothermia was actually a blessing, because it slowed her heart and prevented her from bleeding to death, as she should have from such a serious wound. She’ll recover fully, and I doubt there’ll be any serious ill effects when she does wake up. However, when she wakes up is entirely up to her.”
A tense silence descended upon the room as the three conscious occupants stared at the unconscious one. Kaede’s shrewd gaze turned back to the silver-haired, dog-eared male. “The resemblance is remarkable, is it not, InuYasha?”
InuYasha’s jaw clenched, and one clawed hand fisted tightly. Then he shook his head, silver hair flying loose from the tie that had been failing to restrain it all evening. “It may look like her, Kaede, but it’s not. It took me a few minutes to realize it, but their scents are very different. I don’t know who she is, but I’ve never met her before.”
“She doesn’t quite look the same, either,” Miroku added, shifting to step into the room, moving to stand over the futon, opposite InuYasha, his eyes critically tracing the lines of her face. “Their features are different. Similar enough on first glance, but different on a closer inspection. I’m sure you noticed.” His dark violet eyes studied her sharply. “I will be very interested to know who she is and where she came from.”
“Perhaps we should be more interested in who tried to kill her.”
Two startled gazes, turned to stare at the old woman.
InuYasha frowned. “What?”
At the same time, from Miroku, “You’re sure?”
She nodded, and a wrinkled hand gestured to the futon. “The wound on her head was made by a bullet. This young woman was twice blessed tonight. Had the bullet hit even a little further to the left, she would have died instantly. Instead, it simply grazed her temple.”
“Shit!” Golden eyes narrowed, turning back to watch the even rise and fall of the girl’s chest. “I didn’t hear a gunshot.”
Miroku sighed again, and knelt to pick up the pale hand lying on top of the blanket, rubbing the cool fingers with his own. “Not even you would have -- if it was silenced and far enough away. Where did you say you found her again?”
A shrug. “In a river, somewhere between here and Sounkyo. I don’t know where exactly, but I could probably find it again.” He eyed the other man, staring hard at the way his hands stroked the limp one between them. “Watch it, monk. I don’t want you touching her while she’s unconscious.”
Dark eyes widened, managing a perfectly innocent look even as his fingers reached further up the arm. “I am offended that you would even suggest that I would take advantage of a wounded girl in need of help.”
“Just because she might be in need of help doesn’t mean that she’s in need of your depraved bullshit.” His lip curled, flashing sharp white canines, and he stepped forward. “I won’t warn you again.”
The slim hand was instantly dropped back onto the thick coverlet as his hands rose in a gesture of surrender. He sat back, his features as smooth as his tone. “You needn’t worry. I assure you, I will not touch our beautiful young charge in any way whilst she is defenseless.”
InuYasha snorted, rolling his eyes.
Kaede sent a reproving look at the hanyou from the wrinkled corner of one eye. “Perhaps you would do well to ask him what his definition of defenseless is, InuYasha.”
Miroku sighed, glancing unhappily at the old woman. “Thank you, Kaede, for your faith in me.”
“Keh. I don’t care what his definition of defenseless is. I’m not leaving her side until she wakes up. I want to know who she is, and what she’s doing here, and I’m not leaving her alone until I find out.”
“I believe her name is Kagome.”
Once again, two pairs of startled eyes -- one golden, one violet -- slashed to the old woman as she pulled a thick, woolen wrap around her shoulders in preparation to go out into the cold. InuYasha frowned impatiently. “What the hell, you old bag -- did you suddenly develop psychic powers, too?”
The look she sent him was resigned, if slightly exasperated. “You know very well the extent of my powers, InuYasha. I am surprised that with all your enhanced senses, you have yet to notice the girl’s necklace.”
“Necklace?” Both men turned to look at the girl. Sure enough, a long, thin silver chain drew a delicate line across her neck. Whatever charm was attached to it had pulled the chain taught on her skin, and the majority of its length was hidden beneath her hair. Kneeling down beside her, InuYasha reached out and used a claw to pull the chain from the tangles. It came loose raggedly, pulling several strands of black silk with it, and hung from the tip of his claw, glistening in the light from the fire. It was a miracle she hadn’t lost the damn thing in the river.
The charm was small, no bigger than the pad of his thumb. Worked in thin, delicate lines of silver were the characters of a word. InuYasha mouthed the sounds to himself. Ka. Go. Me. He glanced back at Kaede doubtfully. “You think this is her name?”
One gray eyebrow lifted slowly. “What else could it signify, that she would wear it around her throat in such a manner?”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned away with a careless shrug. “Keh. Whatever. It’s better than nothin’ until she tells us her real name, I guess.”
A long-suffering sigh was heard from the old woman. “There is nothing more I can do for the girl tonight. It is late, and this weary old body can’t take as much as it used to. If one of you wouldn’t mind….” She looked pointedly at Miroku.
He blinked, then darted a glance across the girl-filled futon at InuYasha. One black brow quirked back sarcastically. “Tch. If you think I’m leaving you alone with her,” he pointed down between them, “then you don’t know me that well.”
Miroku let his gaze drift from the unrelenting hanyou, to the old woman who stood watching him expectantly, and back again. Then he sighed, climbing reluctantly to his feet, and walking over to take Kaede’s arm. “I don’t see why I have to go out in the freezing night when you and your hanyou senses would barely feel the cold.”
Golden eyes rolled. “Quit complaining, monk. It’s only around the back.”
“It’s a five minute walk down a deserted mountain path in below freezing temperatures,” Miroku corrected him. “I’m only human. I could freeze to death in ten minutes, you know.”
InuYasha’s reply was an irritated scowl. “Then hurry up a do it, would ya? Maybe you’ll stop complaining if you’re dead.”
The dark-haired man responded with a roll of his own eyes as he led the old woman out of the living room. “You see the lack of appreciation I get around here? My skills are truly wasted in such an environment. Why, with the right….”
InuYasha got up and slid the door shut, muffling his friend’s words. He wasn’t in the mood for his ridiculous wit. Slowly, drawing a deep breath, he turned and walked back over to the female laid out on the futon in front of the fire. Kaede had decided that it wouldn’t be wise to move her, so they’d brought down some bedding and shifted her on top of it, moving her closer to the fire to warm her.
His eyes outlined her features. So familiar, yet so strange. His mind was only just beginning to grasp the differences, even though he realized his instincts had taken in and accepted them from almost that first whiff back in the forest. If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been so godsdamned useless when saw her face -- he would have been expecting the familiar features instead of being paralyzed by them.
The more he studied her, the less they looked identical. Her color was starting to return, and the hue of her skin was warming, gaining tone as the blood returned to its normal flow within her body. She wouldn’t be so pale come morning. Her nose was smaller, a little rounder, and not so elegant; her cheeks weren’t so hollow, and the shape of her eyes was a little off. Her mouth was different, a little fuller, not as thin or firm. A wry, bitter smile twisted his lips. He should know, shouldn’t he?
Her body was slimmer, too -- not as tall, not as full. Close, but not quite the same. No, this girl was someone he’d never met before, someone whose body just happened to mirror someone he used to know. Someone he used to know well.
The only thing he hadn’t been able to check yet was her eyes.
Of course, he didn’t believe in coincidence, and he didn’t trust her, period. He sat upright, crossing his legs and folding his arms as he watched her breathe. Somethinghad happened to her, and at best, that something meant trouble.
He didn’t want any more trouble. He’d had enough trouble to last him a fucking lifetime. All he wanted was to be left alone. But if he had to deal with trouble, then he wanted to know just what the hell kind of form that trouble would take.
Her face was so peaceful, her brows relaxed, her features slack. It made him wonder what she looked like when she was awake and aware. Did she have worries? He snorted at himself, his eyes going to the thick white bandage around her head. Did she know she was in trouble? If she hadn’t before, she sure as hell did now. A hint of sympathy surfaced, and he squelched it ruthlessly, reminding himself that she was probably up to her pretty pale neck in whatever had almost gotten her killed.
He didn’t believe in innocent bystanders anymore.
She moaned and shifted, turning slightly on her back. The blanket fell away, and the fire shone through the thin cotton of the t-shirt that had replaced the sopping mess of her nightgown, revealing the soft mound of one breast almost as clearly as the previous garment had. He blinked, staring dumbly. Then he reached out and tugged the blanket back over her, carefully tucking it around her so it wouldn’t fall loose again.
Yeah. That was different, too.
But not too different. Sighing, he moved away, and set his back against the couch, settling himself in for the night. He’d stay and watch, and he’d be here when she woke up. He wanted answers, and she was the only one who could give them to him.
Miroku returned fifteen minutes later. He could hear the monk approach, then hesitate upon finding the door closed. He heard a sigh, then the door slid open slightly, and Miroku’s dark head poked through the gap, staring at him with rare earnestness. The firelight glinted off the double golden circlets in his left earlobe.
InuYasha spared him a glance. “What?”
More hesitation. “You’re…ok with this? We don’t know how long she’ll have to stay.”
His jaw clenched at the question, and his hands tightened their grip on his biceps, but he just shrugged. “What the hell else can we do? She can’t be moved, and we don’t know anything about her. Even if we did try and ask around in Sounkyo, someone in the area tried to kill her, and until we know who, we can’t just hand her over to some stranger.”
Another silence. “And, assuming the police are not an option we want to consider at the moment…” he ignored the hanyou’s sarcastic “keh”, “…shall I call him?”
That question was worthy of bringing a snarl to his lips -- low, angry, and threatening. “We don’t need to go running to him every time something unusual happens. We’ll wait until she wakes up and see what she has to say before we do anything else. Until then, don’t even mention that bastard’s name to me.”
Miroku sighed. “I thought that’s what you’d say. You could at least try talking to him, you know.”
Golden eyes slashed once again to the door, smoldering dangerously. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, monk, then leave me the fuck alone.”
Dark eyebrows shot up, unimpressed. “Fine. Sulk for the rest of your life, if you want. I’m sure you’ll be very happy that way.” He started to turn away from the door, but stopped, and looked back. “You’re not the only one who suffered, you know. I wasn’t as close as you were, but the end result was the same for both of us. The difference is that I have chosen to make the best of what I’ve got.”
He snorted. “How -- by groping at every pretty girl you see?”
“No. I was born doing that.” A pause. “I simply refuse to waste my life. You don’t see me engaging in endless bouts of brooding, do you?”
His voice growled low, dangerously harsh, warning his friend as best he knew how that either this subject was at an end, or his life was.
Miroku sighed again. “Oh well. You can’t say I never tried.” His eyes slid over the futon where their mysterious visitor rested, firelight glinting off her skin and hair. “Happy watching.” The door slid shut behind him, but his last mumbled comment drifted through anyway. “And they call me a pervert.”
He didn’t even bother to scowl. His gaze went back to the girl…focused back on Kagome. She sighed quietly. His brow puckered, considering the name. Kagome. Yeah, he decided. The old woman was right. She looked like a Kagome. The name just seemed to fit, somehow.
He blinked and redirected his thoughts with a shake of his head. Well… Kagome had some questions to answer. Yes. He would just wait here until she had the decency to show him what color her eyes were.
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The darkness was a sucking mass of gaseous fluid, holding her down so that she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t measure, couldn’t feel. It was numbing, both cold and hot at the same time, giving the occasional illusion of warmth and comfort. Yet, she was content here, blissfully unaware of the outside world, of all the pain and torment it could bring. Eternally satisfied in the blank, pitch security of absolute nothingness.
But then the blackness began to seep away. The insulating security of unawareness slunk off gradually, like the slow, sick deflation of a punctured balloon that can no longer float.
And as the blackness faded, it left a void. Into that void rushed the pain. It ripped through her brain, through her very soul, and tore the breath from her lungs as she began to run.
Run, run, run…don’t stop, don’t let the pain stop you, you have to keep running….you promised you’d keep running….
**************************************************** ********************
The first thing she was aware of was the dull red glow. It was everywhere. Everywhere she looked, nothing but red. She started to panic--until about three seconds later, when she realized that her eyes were closed, and the red glow was nothing more than light shining through her eyelids. Whew.
Instantly on the heels of that realization came the pain, sharp and brutal, throbbing through her skull, and making the red light of her eyelids pulse, and her stomach twist sickeningly. damn it. Oh, that hurt. Everything hurt, now that she thought of it, but it was her head that was killing her. A moan sounded somewhere, and her throat vibrated, making the pain worse.
“Did you hear that? I think she’s waking up.”
A voice. Tenor, she decided. Soothing.
“Keh. It’s about fucking time. How long can one person sleep, anyway?”
Another, this one deeper and rough-toned. Almost like a smoker, but…better somehow. The coarseness of this voice caught her attention with its substance, with its almost physical presence. She could almost feel it.
“She wasn’t sleeping, she was unconscious -- there’s a difference. Besides, you’re just jealous because with all the time you spent watching her, I’m still the one who noticed it first.”
Who were they? Why were they here? Come to think of it…where is here?
“Don’t you have some books to balance, monk?”
“My father always taught me never to put work before a beautiful lady.”
A smile. She wanted to smile. They bickered like siblings. Or best friends. Nothing hostile or serious in the insults of their words. Just some very deeply buried affection.
“Keh. Your father was such a pervert you’re lucky your mother stuck around long enough for you to be born!”
Very deeply buried.
She moaned again, this time intently, cautiously, because the pain in her head was starting to ebb.
“Look, InuYasha. Your yelling is causing the poor, lovely thing pain. Here, why don’t I --”
“Touch her again, and I kill you on principle.”
Her eyelids felt about a million tons too heavy. But she wanted to open them. Curiosity demanded that she open them, despite the pain in her head. She wanted to see those voices. Especially the scratchy one, the one that brushed across her skin, soft rather than abrasive, tugging at something inside her. She wanted to reach out and grasp that voice.
Taking a deep, even breath, she willed her lids up. For a second, she thought they were sealed shut. Then they cracked open, and light seared onto her eyeballs.
Not a good thing for a vicious, vindictive migraine.
She shut them immediately with a whimper. “The light…” She was surprised at how dry and cottony her mouth felt. She didn’t usually have to peel her mouth open to talk. “Please,” -- was her voice usually this garbled? -- “the light hurts my eyes.”
A quiet curse, some shuffling, and the sound of metal sliding on metal. The red on her eyelids receded significantly. She braved the great eyelid separation once again, and this time, though it hurt a little, she could keep them open. Now…how to focus?
A figure moved into her line of sight, and she suddenly had no problems focusing. She blinked slowly, then made her eyes as wide as she could, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
Long, free-flowing silver hair. An interesting face, attractive in an almost-but-not-quite-pretty sort of way. Incredible golden eyes that peered intently at her, some incomprehensible emotion hidden within. And…two of the most adorable, velvety white animal (Dog? Cat?) ears twisting anxiously on the top of his head.
Are those real? Were they real? They looked real, they moved realistically. Oh, please let them be real. Faintly, through the pain and confusion, her fingers itched with the sudden urge to reach out and feel for herself.
“InuYasha, move out of the way. Stop crowding the poor child.”
She watched with hazy fascination as his features twisted into a scowl, and he looked behind him at the new voice. “What the hell are you doing, old woman?”
“I am treating her, InuYasha. Is that not what you wish for me to do?” The face that came into view looked just the way it sounded -- squareish, with wrinkles everywhere, a kind, gentle demeanor, and wise old eyes. “How do you feel, child? You had us worried for a while, but it appears my first conclusion was correct. You seem well enough.”
She drew a deep breath before hauling herself painfully into a sitting position, wincing at the heaviness of her limbs, swaying slightly when her head rushed and whirled. She felt a trembling hand on her back, steadying her while she got her bearings. “My…head hurts.”
The kindly wrinkles nodded, and the cool rim of a cup pressed against her lips. She tasted water and sipped gratefully, relieved to have something soothing her mouth and throat so they didn’t stick so much. Slowly, she drank the whole cup, despite its slightly bitter taste. By the time she was done, she felt much better. Even her headache had dulled.
She looked around, moving carefully as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a small room, square, with wooden floors, and curtains drawn over the windows. Not very much in here -- she was on a futon in the center of the floor, a couple of mats and pillows piled in one corner, and a low table and a stack of chairs off to the side. She could feel the warmth of a small fire blazing somewhere behind her. That was it.
The door was sliding rice paper. Another man stood just inside the open doorway -- tall and dark, handsome in a more traditional way -- dressed all in black, save for his deep purple sweater. She had a feeling he was the other voice, the smooth one.
She located the rough-voiced one, sitting off to the side. It was easy, because she could feel his eyes trained on her, like some sort of heated laser on her skin. He was dressed even more casually than the first voice, in faded jeans and a pullover. He sat cross-legged and barefoot, and he stared at her with a hard, unwavering gaze.
The deep amber of his eyes connected with hers. The air hummed. Her breath hitched, and she blinked.
He blinked back, then scowled and stood fluidly, turning his back on her. She followed his movements, puzzled by his actions. “Where…where am I?” Oh good, her voice sounded much better now, much more like herself.
He was facing away from her now, but his ears twitched at her voice. His head turned, almost of its own accord, and his eyes returned to hers. His expression was disgruntled, almost grudging. “Keh.” He didn’t answer her question.
“You are in a room in the Sachi Inn, near Sounkyo.” The kindly wrinkles drew her attention reluctantly away from those magnetic golden eyes. “InuYasha found you in the woods almost a week ago, bleeding and nearly frozen to death. He brought you here, and we were able to save you. You’re lucky to be alive, child.”
“Bleeding?” For the first time, she was aware of the substance wrapped tightly around her forehead, and her hand went to the thickest lump over her temple. She pressed against it gently, and winced at the soreness of the flesh underneath the bandage. “Why was I bleeding?”
“We were hoping you could tell us that.” The tenor voice stepped forward, his eyes as kind as his words -- and surprisingly, a great match for his sweater.
He sketched a short bow. “I am Daishi Miroku. I am the manager here at the Sachi. The old woman next to you is simply called Kaede. And Kasahara InuYasha,” he gestured towards the golden-eyed man, who scowled at him, “is the owner, and our employer. Please don’t take offense at him. He’s our resident grouch. His bark is literally worse than his bite.” He seemed to find this comment amusing, but the dog-eared one didn’t. A snarl curled his top lip upward, revealing a set of fangs.
She blinked, trying not to stare. “Ok….” She sucked in a breath as the most likely reason for his appearance filtered through her muddled brain. “Oh! You’re a youkai?”
He dropped his snarl to stare warily at her. Miroku shifted forward once again, drawing her gaze. “Yes. Actually, InuYasha is a hanyou.”
“Ah.” Only half-youkai, then. Still, he possessed quite a bit of youki for a hanyou…right? She self-checked, and her eyebrows pushed a wrinkle into her forehead. Now, what made her so sure of that?
“So?”
She looked back up at InuYasha. He had snapped at her, but his eyes didn’t look at her with anger, even if he was trying to glare. Through the harshness she could see uneasiness lurking in his yellow-gold eyes, a faint disconcertion that nearly matched her own.
She blinked again. “What?”
His eyes narrowed. “Tell us who you are and what happened to you.”
She sighed. “Oh. I….” She drifted off. Her frown returned, confused this time, as she attempted to sift through the jumble of pain and swirling thoughts in her head. She gave the group of strangers a hesitating look. “You don’t…know who I am?” She could hear the agitation creeping through her voice.
The old woman beside her shifted forward, looking concerned. “Child, none of us has ever met you before you came here.”
“Oh…” She closed her eyes, and reached into her mind again, searching desperately, but her brain still refused to release the necessary information. Her brow wrinkled. Something was incredibly wrong. All she could find was blankness, an empty void where information should have been. She swallowed. This wasn’t right. She…she had a name, a life. She knew she did.
Didn’t she?
Her eyes opened, and she looked up, connecting pleadingly with the molten gaze she found both the most comforting and the most hostile. “But…” She could feel the desperation starting, rapidly melting into panic. “You have to know who I am…because I…don’t.”
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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