Crossover Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Fantasy's Willful Heart ❯ Chapter O ( Prologue )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Warnings: She's a newborn writer.

Cursed Writer: (glares at Warnings) ignore him, he's just trying to say that I'm new at thisso be patient with me. I also have a life, so don't expect this to be done really fast!

Inuyasha: (looks doubtful) you actually have a life? I thought you lived just to stare at my brother.

Sesshomaru: (looks blank) what was that?

Cursed Writer: (Cursed Writer pulls out paper and pencil and *magically*seals Inuysha's mouth shut) Oh nothing! Puppy just wants attention.

Warnings: Can I finish now?

Cursed writer: (looks blank) there's nothing else to say except that someone dies and some bad language from me, and that's just about it…for now.

Disclaimer: (stares in confusion with Inuyasha and Sesshomaru while watching Cursed Writer running from pissed off Warnings) Ooooookaaaaayyyy…Anyways, Cursed Writer doesn't own Inuyasha, but she does own the original characters and plot, and Vickie is an actual person, so she owns herself. So, without further distraction from anyone, let's move on to the story!

Inuyasha: (finally unseals his mouth) should we help her?

Everyone: (Watches as Cursed Writer finds paper and pencil and turning the warnings into a boy-clown in a dress while still running: everyone sweatdrops) Nope.

Kagome: (coming out of nowhere) Wait a minute! This is suppose to be a romance fantasy story! Shouldn't we know who the pairings are?

Everyone: (glares at Kagome) Later, dammit!

Cursed Writer: (stops running fromWarnings as she watches everyone chase after Kagome. Winks.) Ok seriously, let's move on to the story!

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Fantasy's Willful Heart

Chapter Zero:

The Prologue

She knew that this would be her last moments with her mother and as much as she promised herself that she wouldn't cry- she would be strong!- the tears fell without restraint at the sight of her once beautiful mother.

Skin that was once a honey olive brown was now sweaty and pale.

Hands that were once steady and strong were now frail and shaky.

But it was the sight of those once dark, sable-blue eyes that had made her start to cry.

Her mother's brilliant and intelligent eyes were now were a deathly pale blue that reminded her of a dead sky and was only bright with pain and the concentration it took to breathe.

“How long before she's -” She pauses, looking at the nurse with pleading dark eyes that this suffering would not last long.

Her mother has suffered enough pain in this world.

The nurse looks at the young girl, her swirling blue-brown eyes filled with sympathy. She could only understand in thought that it must be painful to be fifteen years old and losing your mother, who seems to be the only person in the world that's ever loved and taken care of you and now that person must leave you behind to the call of death itself. The nurse had known Sheila and her mother, Belle Fantasia Kimiga, ever since the fifteen year old was just a little fetus with no gender or true form and the nurse had been proud to help the young mother take care of the quickly developing child. Belle was only seventeen when she had Sheila, but told the nurse with bright yet sad eyes that this was her love child and she was glad to have her.

“I could give her a drug,” The nurse suggests, but knew the answer right away.

“No,” Sheila answers without thought, “she wouldn't want that,” she looks at the dying figure on the hospital bed with a quivering smile on her already full, moist lips, “she said that she would never take a drug, and she never will.”

The nurse nods with respect, thoughtlessly tucking a loose strand of her long golden black hair that got free of her ponytail behind her right ear, “I don't think it will be much longer.”

Sheila nods her head, wiping the tears from her inky black eyes and soft little cheeks before raising her head up high in false bravery and taking hold of her mother's shaky hands, “Mother.”

The pale eyes look over at her and soften even more with love, a weak smile coming to the dry thin lips, “My baby… hand me… some… water… w-will you,” Sheila's mother asks in a low raspy voice that was slightly labored from trying to breathe, “feel a little…dry.”

Sheila grabs a Styrofoam cup and fills it with tepid water, putting in a straw and holding the cup so that her mother could drink. After giving her mother some water, she puts the cup on the bedside roll-in table and takes out her cloth to gently dab at the sweat collecting on her mother's brow.

“Mother.”

“…Hm?”

“You're alright, mother,” she tries to say with confidence she didn't really feel, “everything will be fine,” Sheila smiles weakly, fighting hard with herself to keep from crying as she looks into her dying mother's eyes, “r-right?”

Belle sighs with a strained breath. She knew she was going to die and could only think of one thing to tell her beloved child, “Baby,” she pauses to catch her breath, asking for another sip of water and coughing a little before continuing, “My dear Fantasy,” Belle uses her daughter's middle name that also serves as a nickname, “remember what… I told you… about…y-your father?”

Sheila wrinkles her little nose, “You mean that bastard who didn't even take care of me? That…that man who left you on the streets after promising to take care of you,” Sheila questions in a sort of a rage, “that spineless, half-wit of a man who wouldn't even admit to be the man who fathered me? Yes mother, I remember him and wish to soon forget.”

“Peace my child,” Belle rasps, knowing how her daughter felt, “he…has a family…a…a good family,” she looks at her only child pleadingly, “go…go to them…that,” she pauses yet again for a weak breath, “it's my last…my last wish…that…that you find…find your sister…live with them,” she reaches out and squeezes her daughter's hand with slight shaking, “…show…show them…the …the will…the will of…your heart,” her mother whispers, closing her eyes as she lets out a final breath; her hand dropping lifeless from her daughter's fingers.

She was gone.

Sheila bites her quivering lower lip as she runs a hand through her dead mother's midnight black hair, looking like a lost child, “OK mother,” she whispers, as if her mother could still hear her, “OK,” she cries running from the room, her heart and soul sobbing for the only person she ever knew in life that ever loved her that was no more.

No one shall take her willful heart…

That she could promise.

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Cursed Writer: Well? What ya think? And remember that it's a carefully plotted story and that this is only the beginning! Although I'd hate to get flames (looks at Inuyasha and grins) I kinda like hot-asses, so don't send flames unless you want me to think ya flirting with me, ne?

Like I said before, there is life outside of this story, but I promise to at leasttryand get another chapter down, and reviews help ya know (hint* hint*) But, if I can't, than all I can say is shit happens. Say good-bye, Inuyasha.

Inuyasha: (tugs at the studded collar around his neck) Help me, dammit!

Cursed Writer: (grins wickedly while tugging Inuyasha to a back room.)

Sesshomaru: (sweatdrop) I sure as hell ain't helping him. See ya next chapter…if Inuyasha survives.

Cursed Writer: (Peeks her head out the door and winks at everyone)

Owari!