Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Cold	By : Sessakag Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Kagome > Sessh?maru/Kagome Views: 5801 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty One
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Four

February 22, 4035

Soft chirping penetrated her peaceful lull of slumber. A gentle breeze joined the melodic bird call, drawing a drowsy, contented sigh from the woman nestled in bed. Kagome hummed blissfully as the penetrating warmth of sunlight caressed her skin. Heavy lids lifted and sleepy blue eyes gazed dreamily at the lazily drifting clouds dotting a bright lilac sky. Exotic birds coasted across the luminous lavender canopy, trilling as their bright green bodies glided across her ceiling.
‘Good morning, Kagome,’ her computer greeted, ‘It is 7:30 am. Today is March 3^rd, 4035.’
The spirit boosting scent of coffee reached her nose.
Kagome rose slowly from her pleasantly plush pillow pile then reached up towards the artificial sun for a nice, full body stretch. Yawning, she tapped into the monitor of the living room’s camera, viewing the display in her mind’s eye, an action that would cost her extra when next month’s expenses were tallied. A live image of the den emerged, and she was relived to see the bulky figure still where she’d placed him. Kagome zoomed in for better look.
He had made use of the bathroom sometime during the night.
Gone were his dirty clothes, replace with a clean white shirt and dark gray pants. He was upright on the couch, shirt lifted, palpitating the new band aid covering his wounds. Discomforted with her spying, warranted or not, Kagome disconnected from the monitor and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Supple, virtual grass met her bare feet, their springy sapphire blades an enjoyable sensation that tickled the sensitive flesh between her toes.
Indulging a second, quick stretch, she padded over to the open closet, a small twinge of disappointment blooming when the morning forest environment began a slow fade. The closet brightened as she crossed the threshold, and a trio of full length mirrors formed along the walls. A low hovering, translucent stool materializing in the center the reflective glasses formed. Kagome stepped onto the platform and turned her attention to her reflection. Her silky negligee morphed, splitting into a charcoal skirt and collared navy polo shirt complete with the black Rizek logo above her left breast.
She turned in the mirror, considering her clothing from different angles.
“Hmm.” she hummed.
Sensing her dissatisfaction, the nanosuit shimmered, lengthening the skirt to her ankles, and encasing her feet in soft, slipper like shoes. Her braided hair moved up, wrapping itself into a bun. Nanonites crawled to her ears, forming navy droplet earrings. Approving of the modifications, she sent a voiceless command to the hover stool to lower and she stepped off.
Airy floral perfume sprayed as she passed through the doorway.
Dressed for work and in need of coffee, Kagome left her bedroom.
Icy amber eyes tracked her cautious entrance into the den and the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end. In the heat of the moment last night, it’d been easy to be bold and assertive, to order him about and even threaten him when he stepped over the line. Concern for his health and her own safety had given her incentive, an excuse to be blunt, even aggressive. It was a different story now in the light of day. Injured and seated though he was, his glacial regard, heavy bulk and silent stillness was intimidating.
Unnerving.
The predatory vibe radiating from the silver haired male a stark contradiction to the weakened state of his wounded body. He was more dangerous than he appeared. It was broadcast in the distinct motionlessness with which he held himself, and the hawkish, anticipatory weight of his stare. Weary, she stopped several feet away from the couch, nervous hands at her back. She held her breath, and fought the urge to retreat. Quiet tension sucked the air from the room.
She swallowed silently, stomaching tightening when the sharpness of his scrutiny followed the subtle motion her throat made.
Definitely more dangerous than he appeared.
“Good morning,” she forced out.
An inclination of his sliver was his response.
“You seem to have more color today,” she observed, struggling for neutral ground, “How are you feeling?”
“Adequate,” he replied, “Healing has been expedited by the curerator, you have my gratitude for the assistance.”
Some of tension eased with his words. That was a bit better than last night, she supposed. At least she got a thanks for helping him out. She could have let him die and it probably wouldn’t have taken very long. Judging by the puddle he’d left at her door, he’d been bleeding in the street long before she’d showed up. It hadn’t shocked her that not one of her neighbors had felt moved to lend a helping hand or to call emergency services.
In her neighborhood, they’d as soon rob a dying man than save his life.
“You’re welcome,” she said moving a little closer, feeling a little less intimidated, “Look, like I said last night, I’m not sure what happened with you and I’m not sure I want to know. If you’re in some kind of trouble, I only ask that you don’t bring it to my doorstep. I don’t mind helping but I’ve got a little brother to take care of, and I can’t get involved in anything illegal or dangerous.”
“Your concern is noted. I have no intention of bringing anything to your doorstep,”
Kagome nodded, satisfied for now.
“Would you like breakfast?” she offered, “I have a few minutes before I leave for work.”
“Sustenance would be appreciated.”
‘Geez, how stiff.’ she thought on her way to the kitchen.
“You got a name?” she called over her shoulder.
Briefly, she wondered if she should tack on a sarcastic ‘since you already know mine from rummaging through my files’ but decided not to go there. It was too early in the morning to pick a fight and she didn’t feel particularly petty at the moment.
“Sesshomaru.” came the answer.
The refrigerator door dissolved. She reached in for the breakfast packs amid the frigid swirls of lavender fog. Grabbing two, she turned from the tall box and placed her burdens on the counter opposite the fridge. Perfect Servings was the name of her boxed ingredients. Conveniently packaged in a small metallic box, the containers each contained two scarlet, oval shaped laengs, several strips of sapphire brakon and bread. When it took several minutes of poking and prodding to get her brother up and dressed for programming education, having everything she needed to cook their morning meal already laid out took away a significant burden. She waved a hand over over the small sensor atop the cubes. They opened with a soft hiss, spewing lilac mist and in the process, brought her kitchen to life. The stove on her left flared to life, the electronic rings of the burners radiating red in anticipation, while the miniature door of the upper cabinet above her head slid open.
She reached up for the pan it revealed, then placed it on the stovetop.
Ten minutes later, two plates of scrambled laengs, crunchy brakon and toasted bread sat on the counter. Glancing over at the silent male, she grabbed his plate. His eyes were closed, silver head resting against the headrest. His skin looked a bit pale, and his brows were crease in what she assumed was pain.
“Breakfast is ready,” she informed him.
His lids rose a sliver and varnished gold moved over to her before they closed again.
“I would rest a moment longer.”
A bit concerned, she brought his plate and coffee then sat it on the living room table. The plate and cup sealed themselves with a metal sheath, maintaining the warmth of their contents. She moved over to him, hesitating briefly before reaching out to touch his forehead. His eyes opened, a fragment of surprise in those amber depths. His skin was hot to the touch, and a thin layer of moisture covered his skin.
“You’re burning up.”
Retrieving her hand with a frown, Kagome trekked down the hallway, and into the bathroom to retrieve the last curerator she had. When she returned, his eyes were closed again. He didn’t stir as she pressed the device to his neck and injected the tonic.
“This’ll have to do for now. I’ll bring another curerator after work.”
Kagome disposed of the empty container, grabbed her own plate and took a seat at the dinning room table next to the kitchen. She ate in silence, watching the resting male from her peripherals. His face seemed a little less tense now, his brows no longer creased in discomfort.
She finished her meal minutes later then placed her dirty dishes inside the dishwasher.
‘Five minutes remaining.’ the computer warned.
Time to go.
Kagome headed for the front door. It slid open and she paused in the doorway. She looked back at her ‘patient’.
“I’ll be back around six. If you need anything, feel free to help yourself.” she told him.
He didn’t respond but she got the impression that he wasn’t sleeping. Kagome shrugged and walked out the front door, activating the locking mechanism for both her and Sota’s bedroom, as well as the front door. There wasn’t anything worth stealing in her home, but in case she did get robbed, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
He’d have a hell of a time opening their bedroom doors.
A beep sounded.
‘You have one new message from Sota Higurashi.’
Smiling, she opened the message from her brother as she headed to work.
xxxxxx
Alone, Sesshomaru grimaced slightly.
His side was throbbing and burning like the pits of hell. His clothes felt uncomfortably tight, and cold sweat slid down his back. Despite the radiating pain, he felt stronger after sleeping, his system rejuvenating throughout the night. He leaned back, jaw clenched against another pulse of agony in his ribs. Even after the curerator, the stabbing pangs refused to wane for more than a few minutes. A side effect of the cyntari crystal enhanced blaster used to blow holes in his side. The radiation the crystals gave off were toxic to those of his kind. Only a handful were still in existence after his great grandfather ordered the destruction of the tiny planet they’d originated from. The remaining few had been forged into tools of defense, torture and executions against law breakers on his home world, while a separate cluster had been set aside for research purposes.
Access to the crystals was highly restricted.
A fact that implied one of his kind with clearance high enough to get close to the deadly elements had given aid to the attempt on his life. Not only that, the amount of radiation had been concentrated. Whoever had been involved was clearly aware that he was not as susceptible to the toxin in low dosages, a benefit attributed to his maternal line of his lineage. His mother, Mika, was a rare breed of inuyokai, one that produced poisons and miasma within her own body and in turn, was gifted with a great immunity to nearly every toxin known so far. He’d inherited the ability to concoct and resist poison, though his immunity was not on par with his mother. He could tolerate low to moderate dosages of cyntari radiation while his mother was nearly immune to even high volumes. Of all his encounters with chemical warfare, cyntari radiation was one his system continuously struggled to neutralize. The amount still circulating though his body was nearly debilitating.
He opened an eye, and gazed at the wall opposite him.
The holographic television winked on. A Wurmulix, dressed in a tan and navy pinstriped suit, sat behind a wide glass table. The pink feelers atop her head were smoothed back along her squarish skull and her vertical mouth flexed and contracted as she relayed her report of current events. He listened silently to the news, reading the wording sliding across the screen beneath the female.
Nothing worthy of notice.
One less source of stress. His untimely arrival to this planet was at least not common knowledge, though that could mean little. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he had made it here completely under the radar. They were lurking.
He could feel it.
His claws twitched.
Vigilance and caution were his best course of action under the circumstances.
His computer chirped.
Sesshomaru rose gingerly with the assistance of the couch, gripping his side as he struggled to sit up. His skin was a clammy inferno and his head felt ready to burst. Drawing several stabilizing breaths through his nose, he closed his eye against the horrendous sensation of the charred flesh surrounding his wound pulling taunt in his new upright position. Tremors wracked his frame as he connected to the incoming call. The time for rest had come and gone with the night. He had business to attend and delaying it due to the ailments of his body was an intolerable display of weakness he would not indulge himself.
“Speak.” he commanded internally.
“They’re moving.” came Delr'ik’s smooth voice.
“How many?”
“Three. Orders, sire?”
“Bring them.” he demanded, reaching for his breakfast.
Sesshomaru shuffled through the information he’d gathered through the night, settling on a low populated, desolate apartment complex several miles from his current residence, and shared the coordinates.
“The crystal’s contamination is extensive, sir. Your system is severely compromised. Perhaps another day of recuperation is warranted before you deal with the traitors?”
Sesshomaru picked up his fork and and scooped up a helping of laengs. The texture was fluffy, and a blast of flavor coated his tongue.
Delicious.
His eyes moved to the television as he ate.
“Do you wish for me to end your existence, Delr’ik?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“No sir.”
A slight pause.
“My apologies, Xaltan. It will be as you command.” Delr’ik assured.
Sesshomaru declined to reply and the call terminated moments later.
Polishing off his laengs and downing the rest of his coffee. He placed the cup atop the empty plate, and relished in the mood boosting sensation of a full stomach. With one need satisfied, he turned his attention to another. He opened his digital inventory and thumbed through his meager supplies. He had two doses of pheran left.
Selecting one vial, Sesshomaru dictated the amount to be distributed to his system.
Half now, half later.
He closed his eyes in relief as the drug crashed through his body.
A familiar rush careened through his veins, exploding in his bloodstream with an intensity that was painful. Seconds later, the throbbing eased and soothing euphoria blared through his physic. The ache in his side faded away and his burning fever became a distant concern.
His drug addiction, picked up during his days of military service, was not something he’d been able to extinguish.
It was a private shame he fed daily.
The effects of the drug tapped directly into the core of his inner beast, peeling back reason and stimulating bloodlust without unleashing that animalistic part of himself. It concocted an artificial feeling comparable to the sensation of letting his internal self free…but it also made him prone to random episodes of paranoia, of erratic, sporadic fits of blistering rage. In the military, the eroding of his civility had been an asset on the battle field. Pheran had been encouraged by his superiors, almost to the point of a mandate. Years later, the service denied its circulation among their ranks and refused to fund treatment for those still addicted.
Treatment was expensive and the outcome was without guarantee.
Pheran changed the functioning of major organs, altering their composition and supercharging their performance. This steroidal boost increased physical strength, heightened one’s senses and produced a euphoric state that was highly addictive. Discontinuing the drug came with a multitude complications. Dramatic atrophy of organs and bones was common. Shock followed by cardiac arrest even more frequent and these were the results an addict faced even with professional assistance.
Far from fearful of the dour prospects of getting clean, Sesshomaru harbored little interest in rehab. Pheran had never caused a situation for which he deemed unacceptable, fits of rage aside.
Killing had never bothered him.
If someone was foolish enough to get in front of his claws while high it was of no consequence to him.
He lost no sleep over it.
Relinquishing the high Pheran brought him was not a course of action he would entertain, though for the sake of those that served him, he’d limited the amount injected down to a manageable degree, effectively ending the bulk of his rampages for the past five years.
It was the only concession he would allow.
High and momentarily free of pain, Sesshomaru picked up his dirty dishes and strode into the kitchen. He placed them in the dishwasher, then headed for the door, grabbing his coat from the wall rack on his way out. He initiated a link to the housing security, opening the door and locking it behind him.
The cherry sun blared brightly in the lavender sky and cool wind soothed his hot flesh.
His computer beeped, scanning the surrounding area for the slightest sign of a threat and simultaneously collected information on the inhabitants occupying the woman’s apartment complex. File after file of personal information ran through his mind’s eyes. Despite the somewhat unsafe neighborhood, the people currently in the area had very short rap sheets with only a handful charged and having served hefty time for armed robbery or worse.
Small fry.
Dismissing the wandering neighbors and curious looks aimed in his direction, he set out for his destination. A haze of euphoria settled over the entirety of his body as he left the complex, heightening rapidly as he entered the bustling city. Time seemed slowed, colors more vibrant, and the people sharing the side walk more suspicious. His amber eyes shifted over the citizens he passed, muscles tensing when the screeching horns of the vehicles overhead reached his ears.
Needing directions and a distraction from the superficial hint of paranoia, Sesshomaru switched on his GPS then paused as it calculated his route.
‘You will arrive in 15 minutes. Please proceed to the 74^th teleport to Ramulax drive.’
A blue guide line appeared on the street. Sesshomaru followed sedately, avoiding the crush of fellow travelers and ignoring the coy waves of interested females. The indicator led him to a pubic teleport; a tall, wide, levitating doorway made of steel. The portal stood a few meters from the sidewalk, glowing softly. At its side, a swath of metal hovered. Sesshomaru placed his palm on the slab. A red light flashed beneath his hand, and the machine extracted 2 pernix and 50 xin from his account. The portal clicked, it’s metal doors sliding open.
Inside was a bright orange swirling haze and white crackles of lightening.
He stepped through, emerging on the other side instantly.
Ramulax was shitier than Kagome’s street. Crumbling buildings, overgrown lawns and rundown residents wandering down the chipped street. Shifty eyed cretins watched him with no small amount of suspicion.
He ignored the stares and followed the line his computer manifested.
‘You have arrived’ his system informed him minutes later.
Water dripped from the ceiling of the apartment building he ducked into. The abandoned structure was more run down than he thought. Peeling paint, sagging roofs and dirty walls covered in graffiti was all that remained of the living quarters. The scent of mold and something putrid invaded his nostrils, overwhelming his sensitive nose. He moved carefully around the debris and found a relatively clean spot to wait. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Time ticked by.
His patience was just beginning to wane when the computer chirped, and bright red circles appeared in his peripheral. Golden eyes moved to the shifting shadows filling the doorway he’d initially entered.
“Xaltan.” Delr'ik greeted as the group made their way towards him.
Sesshomaru silently assessed the arrivals.
Six of his men, excluding Delr’ik, shuffled three cuffed males forward, tossing them at his feet. Sesshomaru pinned the nearest beneath the weight of his arctic stare. The six armed Gartuan stumbled backwards, his pasty green skin secreting nervous oil, his beady onyx eyes glistening with worry. Dismissing the sniveling male, he honed in on the two males that brought his blood to a boil. The were of his race; Xerian. On the left, was a male only a few years above a youngling, his tangerine eyes gleamed fiercely, his brown hair cropped close to his skull and the absence of facial markings announced the commonality of his birth. The other was harder to place in age. His black eyes were listless, long green hair braided down his spine. His lined face was also missing the markings of nobility.
Delr’ik moved in front of the men, lower arms crossed at his back, his remaining two folded across his strong chest. His piercing blue eyes were covered by dark shades, and his dread locked cyan hair piled atop his head. His goatee was neatly trimmed and in stark contrast with the smooth chocolate of his skin.
Amber eyes moved over the building, pausing on the rafters, then back to his second in command.
Discerning his leader’s silent dictate, Delr’ik turned to his subordinates, then gestured to the rusty beams above.
“String them up.” he commanded.
A struggle ensued as the doomed males were dragged carelessly over sharp debris and dirty water puddles. The youngest among them fought the hardest, biting, headbutting, using his lithe body weight to throw his tormentors off balance. Irritated with the orange eyed youth’s tussling, one of the silent captors ended the resistance with a vicious blow to the face before tossing the feisty kid below the low hanging rafters and atop the pile of his fellow prisoners. A pair of dark suit wearing men dropped sleek duffle bags nearby. They dug into the bags and retrieved old fashioned, un-enhanced chain links. Straightening, the men tossed them up and over the beams forming a makeshift pulley system. Chains secured, they turned their attention to the group of men on the floor.
The young Xerian was first.
“W-wait a minute,” he babbled as they dragged him across the dirty floor, “it wasn’t me! I swear! My Xaltan pl-”
Blood splattered as one of the men stopped and kicked several teeth from his mouth.
“You’ll have your time to speak,” Delr’ik informed the youngling calmly, “hold your tongue until then.”
Chains rattled and pained grunts filled the room. Moments later, three terrified males hung from the rafters, tied in a fashion that maximized their discomfort. Arms pulled at a painful angle, their toes barely touching the ground, the position was designed to become increasingly excruciating as time wore on. Delr’ik tossed his leader a spare pulse handgun. Sesshomaru caught the weapon and strode to the youngling. Mouth bleeding, eyes wide with terror, the dark haired youth recoiled.
Sesshomaru gripped his throat, pressing the barrel of the gun against his temple. The adolescent shuddered, his lean body shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.
Glacial golden orbs met terrified tangerine.
“A hundred thousand pernix worth of pheran disappeared in transit to Plersius two nights ago,” he began softly, “Tell me, how much do you know about that unfortunate…incident?”
“I swear Xaltan I don’t kn-”
The hard butt of the blaster crashed against his face. His body rocked as a wail of agony erupted from his lungs. The vicious blow left his skull throbbing and the full brunt of his weight to fall on his awkwardly chained arms. It was a dueling combination of pain the likes of which he’d never felt before. He cried out, desperately trying to balance the weight of his body on the tips of his toes, desperate to remove the agony in his screaming limbs. Clawed hands gripped his chin. He was lifted, the motion bringing relief to his shoulders. Just as he was beginning to catch his breath, the sharp pointed nails dug into his flesh. Blood slid down his skin as the fingers wrapped around his jaw, tightening gradually, unmercifully. He struggled, jerking his head in an effort to free himself from the agonizing vice.
The excruciating pressure forced his lips apart and then brutal metal of a pistol barrel clacked painfully against his teeth. Horror filled his body as the unforgiving blaster met his throat. He gagged, wide tangerine orbs staring into soulless gold. The handsome face of the Xaltan was hard as marble, his piercing gaze obdurate and without pity. Mercy lived nowhere in that stare. Nausea churned in his gut as reality sank into his conscious mind with the force of a hammer.
This male, this silver haired bringer of destruction could pull the trigger without remorse…could blow his brains out on the dirty wall behind him and lose not an ounce of sleep when it was over…
He trembled, harsh breaths of panic blaring from his nose.
He was death.
He was the very essences of a nightmare.
He was-
“You are beginning to irritate me.” Sesshomaru informed him dispassionately.
His dilated eyes watched the Xaltan’s thumb slide over the safety mechanism situated on the side of the gun. A low click filled the room, signaling the shift from a threat of death into a promise. The youth quivered, hot tears of fear joining the blood on his face.
“In addition to that missing shipment,” Sesshomaru continued, “some glurtak with a death wish attacked my vessel using a blaster contaminated with radiation from cyntari crystals.”
The gun shoved deeper.
“Word is that you had something to do with that.”
The youngling shook his head wildly, eyes wide with horror.
Irritated with the response, Sesshomaru ripped the barrel from his mouth. Droplets of blood splattered the floor. The young Xerian sucked in a painful breath, shaking as the abrupt removal swayed his body, increasing the terrible tension on the joints connecting his arms to his torso. Unimpressed with the lack of answers forthcoming, Sesshomaru snapped his fingers, and held out his hand.
Delr’ik slapped a shinny handle into his palm. Sesshomaru gripped the hard metal of the knife handle, then rubbed his thumb over the scanner. A hot, crimson beam of light erupted from the gleaming steel, shaping itself into a short, deeply serrated blade a beat later.
“I will be very aggravated if you get blood on my clothes,” Sesshomaru stated calmly, turning his gaze back to the now screaming man, “Keep that in mind during our…discussion.”
xxxxxx
Laters
~Sessakag
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