InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Miscommunications ❯ The Morning Scoop ( Chapter 23 )

Chapter 23

The Morning Scoop

He pulsed. Painted and pinned to the tree, the hanyou's youkai began to throb throughout the mural. The rain fell like missiles from loaded black clouds upon the darken highway. The beige Mercury Grand Marquis struggled to stop as it avoided slower moving vehicles. The pulsing quickened as a light breeze brushed against his sleeping face. The Grand Marquis came upon two stopped cars. Swerving, it was able to avoid crashing, but not without gaining velocity. His face tensed, as the sky darkened. The car's headlights caught the sight of the truck barricading the road. It could not stop in time. In its struggle, the beige car skidded out of control. Its driver tried desperately to turn the wheel towards the turn in hopes of regaining control, but the railing was too close. The night was filled with the sounds of crushing metal and glass. “Inu Yasha…”

His eyes opened wide as a tinge of red spread through them. Frozen in time, painted on the wall of the empty room, he answered her call.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Her scream filled the underground base for 5.246 seconds: the time it took to complete the termination, and have Otokonoko laying on his back with a heavy combat boot resting over his throat. The hot gun he had pressed against Sango's back was safely out of his reach.

“Let him go,” Old Miko ordered.

“Why?”

“I told you to.”

“Since when are you my boss?” There was a hint of humor and sarcasm in the angry voice.

“Since my agent terminated you.” These words caught the woman's attention. She released his neck and turned towards Old Miko.

“If he wanted me `terminated,' he should have killed me,” Sango replied as she leaned over the glass desk, using her fists for balance. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pain. Damn that monk!

“We didn't want you dead,” Old Miko explained, “just terminated. You are no longer the civilian Sango Kizu. That is only an alias we will permit you to use. Welcome to The Agency, Kira.”

“Killer?” Sango questioned.

“Exterminator was already taken.”

“Don't complain. It's a lot cooler than Boy.” Miroku coughed as he rubbed his sore neck. He had been right: Sango would have made Jakotsu proud. Though, he wished she hadn't kept his gun: it was his favorite.

“But, it's just as effective,” Old Miko added. Her voice was drained as the night's events began to take a toll on her. “An assassin cannot have a conscience, outside loyalties, or questions. An assassin must be a machine that executes a mission perfectly without the nuisance of regrets. An assassin cannot be human nor have human connections. We must remove that.”

“It'll take some time, but soon you'll understand that Sango Kizu and Kira are two different people that live in the same body,” Miroku added while he stood up and walked slowly to his place by the door. He had a feeling Sango wasn't done screaming.

“You just invented Kira!” Sango protested, as she began to sweat. Guessing by the pain her termination had left behind, she would have a nasty scar in the morning. She wanted to rub the offended shoulder, but she wouldn't show weakness.

“We didn't invent anything, child. We just named what was already in you, or do you wish to continue to deny your true nature.”

“My nature?” The indignation in Sango's voice was undeniable.

“You're obsessed with high-tech security devices.”

“Part of my job!” Sango protested.

“As is the martial arts training and the knowledge of explosives… Actually, you have a violent nature. You were trained to kill before you were hired by Full Moon Enterprises. In fact, you were hired for those skills.

“I would venture to say that you enjoy spilling blood, even your own, in a good fight. Everything is a competition for you.”

“That's not true!” Sango growled, suppressing the pain.

“You work more than you have to, which also demonstrates that you are a control freak,” the older woman observed.

“You have no idea what my job entails. It requires more of me than you could know.”

“It's called delegation of power, Sango. You have opted not to.”

“No one can do it better than me.”

“A bit egotistical, don't you think?” the old woman teased. “You are a one woman army, and that is exactly what an assassin is. Now, do not confuse one with the other: your job did not bring out these skills in you. Your skills sought out the job. You can't help your nature, and we plan to exploit it, cultivate it, and perfect it.”

“You're assuming I want to be part of your organization.”

“You already are. There is no other alternative.”

“I didn't agree to this. I don't care if you initiated me… Over my dead body are you going to bully me into this!”

Her companions laughed. “I wish that was an option,” Miroku spoke up from his corner. “You're part of The Agency. It's final.”

“And if I don't want to be?”

“After tonight, you will understand why there is no choice,” he promised.

“I'm not leaving my job at Full Moon Enterprises! I sacrificed too much for it to let you take it away from me!”

“You are not being asked to abandon your position, Sango,” Old Miko explained. “Kira needs a viable cover. Onnanoko used the cover of an investigative reporter to give her freedom of movement, and an excuse to ask questions.”

“Onnanoko? You mean Kagome?”

The woman nodded.

“I don't think she agrees with you. She left this room denouncing you and her true nature!” The pain from her wound was making it difficult to enjoy the slight victory.

“When two natures share a body, it is difficult to maintain a constant balance, so we opt to empower the assassin. Inu Yasha nurtured the woman, which resulted in her female instincts momentarily overpowering her sensibility. Onnanoko will be here, first thing in the morning, reporting for duty. We are her family. We have taught her everything she knows.”

“Kagome isn't like that. I may have known her for a short amount of time, but I can read people. She's a sweetheart, and even with your efforts to destroy her relationship with Inu Yasha, she's not going to give up. I wouldn't be surprise if she dropped you both in order to make things right.”

“Leave her brother and grandmother for a man?” Old Miko questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Leave The Agency and her crazed editor for the hanyou she loves.” Sango could hear the bite edging her voice. Damn the pain. She was beginning to see bright spots dancing around her. This wasn't good.

“Onnanoko knows better, and whether you like it or not, you are both very much alike.” Miroku observed his superior cautiously as she spoke. There was something in her voice he did not recognize.

“How so?” Sango demanded.

“You too would walk up to a target casually in a crowded hallway, eliminate it, and walk away calmly if your job demanded. The only difference is she would do it in high heals.”

“You don't know me at all!”

“Don't I?” Old Miko chuckled, “Did you identify yourself to my agent before you shot him? Did you ask them to drop their weapons, or did you shoot first and ask questions later?”

“I'm sure I followed proper protocol.”

“Actually,” Miroku interrupted, “you screamed, `You,' pulled out your weapon, screamed, `No,' and shot.”

“He had an explosive device in his hand. I couldn't let him detonate it!”

“It could have been a radio… Most people hesitate before shooting; you didn't.”

“I don't miss.” Tears were forming at the edges of her eyes.

Old Miko smiled in triumph, “See Kira, we do know you. Assassins do not miss either. And, for you, the pride of the kill is more important than the propriety of procedure.”

“I'm not Kira, and that's not what's important to me!” Sango growled.

“Then, why haven't you asked for treatment? I know you're in pain. It is written across your face like the morning news.”

Sango paused, surprised at her words, but quickly recovered. “You are the ones that put a hot gun barrel to my shoulder, causing that nasty burn. Why would I ask the people who hurt me for treatment?”

Old Miko removed a small jar from underneath her desk. She opened it, and placed it on the table before the security chief. “It will help ease the pain and heal the wound. I made the balm myself. Would you like to use it?”

Sango stared into the woman's good eye, unsure what was the proper answer, so she went with the one that felt right. “I don't trust anything that comes from you.”

“You are one of my agents now. What good would you be to me injured? Even the best tool is worthless when broken. Your safety, like that of all my agents, is my highest priority.”

“Which is why you shot Kagome?” Sango accused.

“To make sure the bullet would not harm her. It missed all vital organs.”

“You used three bullets!”

“I wanted you to think it was an amateur,” Old Miko defended, bored with the conversation. “Our work here is as important as it is dangerous. Now, Kagome and Miroku didn't have a choice in joining our group. They were bred for this… They are our twins. Two perfect examples of our life-long education. You, on the other had, proved yourself just as worthy without ever seeing the inside of one of our classrooms. You put a tracking bullet in the shoulder of my second best operative. If you were in my position, would you let yourself go?”

“Why not kill me? It'd be quicker and easier.”

“And waste all that talent!” The old woman stood up in outrage. “We spend lifetimes nurturing and training our assassins, while you naturally have these gifts. No, Kira, you are more valuable to us alive than dead. Besides, there is only one way to keep a Kizu quiet: Ask her to keep your secret.”

The mention of her family name startled the young woman.

“Now,” the wrinkled hand lifted the jar, “would you like some balm for your burn?”

Sango watched her carefully. If they wanted her dead, Miroku wouldn't have shot the wall before pressing the hot barrel against her shoulder. He would have simply shot her. She nodded and sat as the other woman walked around the table to tend her wound. “You said Exterminator was already taken, by whom?” Sango asked as soon as the cooling effect of the balm relaxed her.

“Your grandfather retired the name and his family from our services.”

Sango turned towards the woman in surprise. The wrinkled face smiled softly, before replying,

“Do you really think that a society of assassins would grow in Japan without at least once inducting a member of The Exterminator Family into our ranks? Your family has a rich tradition with us, but when your grandfather retired, he asked that we let his son grow up normally. I am still not sure what that is, but it does not matter anymore. Who would have guessed that two generations later, his granddaughter would reclaim the Kizu chair? Miroku, did you really have to rip her shirt this badly? You left most of her back exposed.”

“It's synthetic material. It would have melted into her skin; I was trying to ensure minimal harm,” the monk defended himself with an innocent smile.

“You will have to forgive me,” the priestess turned to Sango, “but he's the only escort available. Though, as an inducted member of The Agency, he must show complete respect towards you, or suffer the consequences.”

“Which are?” Sango pressed as she eyed Miroku carefully. She was out of arguments, and suddenly she had the urge to discover how much of her grandfather's legacy was behind these walls.

“Castration among others.” A sly smile spread on the security expert's lips as all color drained from the assassin's face. This would be interesting.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

“My mother planted those roses,” Sesshomaru's voice was soft, almost washed away by the pouring rain. They were in the gazebo; he had thought it a simple solution, not expecting the skies to burst out raining for so long. Kagura turned towards him while rubbing some warmth into her arms. She should have put some clothes on instead of a satin robe.

Looking at him as he stood with his back towards her, she wondered how he was fairing with just a pair of sweatpants.

Sesshomaru watched the delicate flowers take the beating from the rain. “I was five…just old enough to remember.” His voice remained stoic.

He remained silent for some time as Kagura turned towards him. She examined his tense back closely as if the hard lines of his muscles would reveal his darkest secrets to her. “It was spring,” he continued, “and I think she wore a pink dress or skirt. My father made fun of her for it. She believed one should always be elegant, even doing chores… another thing she believed in,” His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes. “`Don't let anyone do anything for you that you can do yourself.'” His voice was distant. She felt him drift back in time as she admired his profile in the lightning. “She took hours explaining the process to me, but I don't remember a word of it. The clearest memory…the only detail I can swear to is the way she held me tightly on her lap…wrapped in her scent. That's how I know this garden smells like her.”

Kagura hadn't noticed she had slipped her hand in his until he squeezed it. “I like it here, even in the rain,” she confessed. Her hair was down in waves around her face as the wind blew through it. In the silk robe, she looked like a wind goddess. He turned towards her with confidence: she was his wind goddess.

“You will like it better in the summer.”

“I don't think I'll be able to see it.” Her voice was sad as she turned from him.

“I'll make sure you will,” the youkai Lord promised.

“I doubt I'll see much more than tomorrow.” Her voice was full of resignation. If Onnanoko hadn't come by now, she wasn't coming at all. “They were a beautiful three days.” She began to walk towards the house, as the rain washed away her strength.

He didn't stop her, observing her retreat from his place. Did she not understand? He was tired of explaining. Sango should arrive in a few hours with the package. Visuals were usually the best clarifications.

Kagura appreciated the space, though she wished he hadn't opted to give it now. Damn him! He had taken her to the gardens, where they had enjoyed the silence for an hour or so, but then, he had asked something about business, and they'd ended up having a vivid discussion on everything. That wasn't strange. Naraku usually had to cut their discussions short during the mandatory meetings. He was intelligent, and she had a quick wit. It usually led to an enjoyable conversation/argument.

Then, the rain came, and he rushed her to the gazebo instead of the house. It didn't look like a long shower, but it had turned into a storm. It hadn't rained this hard since the day Kagome had publicly denounced the destruction of Paradise Hills Park.

Speaking of Kagome, she had promised to get the wind demon's heart back. Kagura silently prayed the girl was not hurt. The reporter was capable of anything to help a friend, even risking her own life. Had their business not brought them together, Kagura would never have guessed Kagome's night job. Mikos; you can never judge them at face value.

Kagura didn't bother to wipe the mud off her slippers as she entered the house. She was too tired to care. The long silver robe was pasted to her skin as she made her way through the hallways, up the stairs, and finally to her room. If she had a choice, she wanted to die in that robe.

The hot tears stung her face as they raced down her cheeks. She loved him. She didn't need to have her heart beating in her chest to know that. She had loved him for a long time, but had hidden it from herself. It would not do for her brother to find out. She had played with fire and burned herself badly. It was never just sex…at least not for her. There had always been something her partners offered that she could not resist: freedom.

The startling revelation hit her as she picked up her hairbrush: The late Lady Takahashi had been right about elegance. Containing her wild curls, she would ensure she would look her best when she faced her executioner. She used a nearby tissue to dry her face before applying lipstick. She looked into her reflection admiring the honesty in her eyes. She would have fought for him if he had loved her in return.

It would not do. She would rather die free than live as a slave, not that she had a choice. She threw the wet robe on the bed and walked to the bathroom, looking for a towel. As she patted herself dry, she thought of the irony in the situation. She was finally going to be free, and all she wanted was to remain bound to him. She was a silly girl.

Sighing, she walked towards the closet and put on the red dress from her first night with Sesshomaru. It reflected her personality best. She admired her reflection and smiled. The world was going to lose a true beauty, vanity included. Things seemed easier now that she had accepted her fate. She could prepare for the end. Prepare for an eternity without him…

It pulsed. She stood still as she felt it. It was pulsing underneath her bed like a… heartbeat? She knelt and took a cautious glance. Pulling out the feather, she felt her heart beat faster…she could feel it. Trembling fingers made away with the binds as the feather fell open and the black velvet box opened before her. She reached out to it as the light consumed her.

It beat within her chest. She smiled as tears rushed down her cheeks. Her hollow chest was now full as the small organ contracted and relaxed in an exalted rhythm. Her lips curved into a sincere smile as she whispered, “Thank you.” Her hands rushed to her chest to feel the beats. Was this a dream? Was it a painful prank? She breathed in the air, noticing how much sweeter it smelled.

Now, this was freedom.

Looking down, she saw the envelope. Opening it quickly, she pulled out the passport and plane ticket. It was ten o'clock. She could still make the midnight flight to New Zealand.

Her heart skipped a beat. She finally had all she ever wanted: her heart, freedom, a new identity, and the chance to get away. But, did she want it? Her mind returned to the rosebushes and the man she had left in the rain. She should leave him. He only wanted to control her, just like her father. Looking out the window, she saw him walking slowly towards the house as the rain failed to disturb his immaculate hair, though she did not notice, like she did not notice how his strong framed was caressed by the dripping water. She only noticed what was written in his eyes.

What should she do?

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

“So the Shikon no Tama is a weapon?” Sango asked as she read the file in front of her.

“It can be.” Miroku replied as he took a sip of his tea. They were sitting at his cubicle, and he had spent the past hour filling Kira in. He liked the name for her. She was a man killer, in his opinion. “It grants the holder's deepest, darkest desires.”

“Definitely do not want to see it in the hands of Naraku,” Sango agreed. “So you guys go around the world doing this?”

“Preventing evil people from obtaining more power? Yes.” He placed his cup on the desk and examined his companion. She was wearing a black windbreaker Kaede had provided as she sat before him, eyes downcast, and mouth frowning in concentration. The light was dim, so her features were kept well hidden. Their black clothes kept them camouflaged, so her face appeared paler and more defined.

She looked up. Her chocolate eyes were rich and focused on him.

“So, you've killed over four hundred people to do that?” she asked, before returning to the file. It was thick, reminding Sango of an expanded copy of a Bible.

“`Kills' refers to a completed mission.”

“So your sister hasn't killed four hundred sixty-five people?”

“No.”

“But she has killed people?”

“Her first was when she was twelve. She walked in when Naraku shot her mother, execution style…She had a bow…the arrow went through Naraku, hitting the demon standing behind him. She purified him instantly, though Naraku still walks the Earth.”

“How does she feel about it?”

Miroku shrugged. “An assassin isn't supposed to feel. That's the first thing we're taught.”

“But a human does,” Sango protested as she flipped another page.

“Which is why a human is fallible, but an assassin isn't. Any error made was the fault of the human.”

“Sounds like a computer… Does that mean that there is no love between you and your sister?”

“Of course there is love. We were trained together - raised together… we grew up together.”

“That doesn't sound like an assassin.”

“No, the assassin will answer you that there is just professionalism between the two of us. She is my charge. Her protection was passed down to me when Taro died. Naraku has always had his eyes set on her; besides, her very loud cover does attract stalkers every now and then.”

“And where does the love fit in?”

“Somewhere between dying for each other and working for a common cause.”

“Sounds like you're still human.”

“We are. Recognizing that keeps us from getting cocky.”

“You, not cocky?” Sango rolled her eyes. “What is this number: 524663?”

“The location of the Shikon no Tama…we think Kouga meant S24663: the plot number for Paradise Hills Park.”

Sango looked up. “The explosion?”

“He hasn't been able to obtain it, and neither have we. That's why Kaede was hard on Kagome. We need her focused, not in the clouds.”

“So you approve of what happened here?”

“Hell's no!” Miroku leaned in, a storm of fury in his eyes, “Kagome should have been given the chance to speak with Inu Yasha in private.”

“What about Onnanoko?”

“There is only so much an assassin can take before the desire for humanity outweighs our desire to do right.” His eyes were dark and passionate as they reached out towards her. “That's why I needed to romance you early. Assassins are not allowed to fraternize with other assassins, unless we can argue pre-existing relationship.”

Sango raised her eyebrow in question.

“We were going to terminate you at the end of the month, but you beat us to the punch.” When she gave him an annoyed glance, he lifted his hands in defense and added, “Be happy; in the past, we would have shot you, seen if you survived, and then inducted you.”

“Why did you change it?”

“The shot needs to be in the exact place the candidate shot the agent, which kind of sucks if the candidate shot the agent in the heart.” Miroku smiled.

“I need to get back to the office,” she replied, instead of laughing at his joke. Her watch beeped reminding her of other duties. They stood up together.

“I'll pick you up in the morning.” Miroku handed her a badge. “This will get you through the elevator if you need to come down before then.”

“I didn't say I would stay.”

“Sango, in the past two hours, you have seen what we do here. We are the real world police. Can you walk away without making sure you're helping us stay legit?”

“I don't see anything legit about it!”

“Juan would disagree.”

“Juan?”

“The little boy my sister saved when a renegade group threw a building on his head,” Miroku reminded as he walked her to the elevators.

“So you do some good, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Well, then you'll come back because I know you'll want to see me later.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sango asked as he showed her into the elevator. As the door closed, he ventured to inform her,

“Because the bug I left in your security system has reprogrammed all your network codes. It'll be a week before you can send an email without it bouncing back.” He wasn't sure, but he believed that there was a new dent in the steel doors. Kami, he loved his job.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

It was early morning by the time Inu Yasha pulled into his bar's parking lot, not caring that the cleaning efforts were still being performed. He had driven, with the top on, all night. Ironically, the rain beating against the windshield had been soothing. It reflected his mood perfectly. Sometime around dawn the rain had retreated into a light drizzle, and eventually had stopped, although heavy grey clouds still occupied the sky. It was time to turn in.

He didn't care about the new dents as he kicked the car door closed. He walked into the bar and poured himself a stiff shot of the cheapest sake he owned. Dark circles underneath his eyes hardened his face, as the snarl never left his lips. It was like a bad dream.

He poured himself another shot.

Unfortunately, the continuous reminder of her betrayal was carved into his heart with a butcher's knife. How could he have been so blind? How could he have believed she would ever love him? Why had he let himself fall for her damn charm? Lying deceitful bitch!

His third shot went down hard as it hit his food-deprived stomach. He didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all a lie. He growled. How could she look so sweet and innocent while lying to his face? How could she lie naked in his arms, and feign to love him? He had trusted her. He had confided in her! He had told her he loved her, and meant it.

He paused before taking the fourth shot. She had told him she loved him first, and he hadn't smelled deceit, but his demon powers had been leaving him at the moment. Perhaps, she had fooled him. She had said it again… screamed it into the street, but the rain washed away most scents. The shot reminded him how cheap the sake was. It tasted awful.

The inebriation had begun to take effect as he poured himself the fifth shot. He had been sure of what he smelled the morning before. She hadn't lied once:

“Death is not easy to accept. I've spent most of my adult life trying to come to terms with it, but it seems to be as elusive as ever,” she sighed.

“It bothers you that Naraku has gotten away with it?” he asked, carelessly running his claws up and down her back.

“He hasn't gotten away with it. Before I die, I'll see him pay for what he did to my family.” The anger and hate combination sounded strange in her voice.

“I'll help you.”

“Inu Yasha, helping me would mean the ruin of your father's company. You would lose all your money.”

“Keh, like I care about that. I said I'll help you. It's final.” She looked up to him and smiled softly. His heart melted.

“I love you,” she whispered. “No matter what happens, I want you to promise you won't forget that.”

“Keh, you're a silly girl,” he teased rolling his eyes, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his lips.

“I'm serious Inu Yasha. You always keep your word, so promise me this. It's all I ask.” The urgency in her voice made him look at her in worry.

“Fine, I promise.” He pulled her up his body, feeling his ribs fully healed. “But I'd rather you show me.” He growled a tease as she yelped in surprise.

She straddled his hips before reminding him, “I need to be on the air in twenty-five minutes.”

“Then this will have to be a quick lesson.” Her lips tasted sweeter this morning.

He looked down at his shot in wonder. Could she have not been lying? Did it even matter? She had betrayed him. He killed the shot. He could never forgive her betrayal. The alcohol weakened his mental walls as he remembered her:

Inu Yasha looked down in warm surprise as the girl relaxed in his arms. Spiders had been more complicated than expected, but she seemed better now. She had slept continuously for half an hour without stirring, while he watched her. She laid, half draped on his body, in complete trust and dependency. She needed him to protect her, and the idea filled him with pride. He didn't venture to speculate why. It felt good to have her there. That was more than enough.

He poured another glass, as he saw her eyes full of pain and tears as he watched her pray by the god's tree. He took the shot remembering the tight feeling in his chest when he had thought she was going to die in his bar. The alcohol swam in his veins, filling his mind with the memory of their first kiss. Half asleep, surrounded by her scent, he remembered her lips vividly. They tasted of her… honest. She may have loved him, but it didn't change the facts. Had she confided in him… had she been honest, he would have helped her. He would have saved her.

He lifted the seventh shot to his lips. His phone rang. Grumbling, he put the glass down and growled into his phone. It would be nice to scream at someone.

Miroku's name was on the Caller ID.

The roar of from the hanyou was cut short as he slammed the phone into the wall. He didn't want to speak of her. He would drink to her. He brought the drink to his lips before pausing, and changing his mind. She didn't deserve this tribute, though he couldn't remember why. Seeing the discarded remote on the bar, he tested the television set. It worked, and it wasn't set to her show. Perhaps, his day would improve. He turned his back to the television, needing the noise to flush out his thoughts.

“In other news, a 1988 Grand Marquis crashed into the railing of Tokyo's Kansendouro Highway causing major traffic jams all over the city. Lee has more on the story.”

Kagome drove a 1988 Grand Marquis, but hers was in the shop. It needed a new engine or something like that.

“Sometime late last night, the 1988 Mercury Grand Marquis was going south on Kansendouro Highway when it lost control, and slammed into the side railing. As you can see behind me, the front of the car is devastated, which makes the driver's disappearance even more baffling. Though the identity of the driver remains unknown, police have just confirmed that the car is registered to Morning Scoop reporter, Kagome Higurashi.”

Inu Yasha knocked over the sake bottle as he quickly turned towards the television set.

“It is not clear at this time if she was the one driving the car, and if so, where she is.”

Inu Yasha's heart stopped as the scene changed, but not before the hanyou recognized the back of the car. Not her!

“Inu Yasha!” He barely registered his name when a hard fist connected with his mouth. “You bastard! Tell me where she is!”

The hanyou looked at the monk in surprise. Miroku's eyes were burning with anger, hatred and desperation as he punched the bartender again. This time, Inu Yasha fell to the ground.

“She went after you. She wouldn't have stopped until she found you! Where is she?” he demanded.

The initial shock wore away as the hanyou rose up. “I don't fucking know!”

“Bullshit!” Inu Yasha was taken aback. He had never seen the monk lose his cool, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Miroku stood before him with his lip snarled, grinding his teeth, readying to kill, and the only thing in the cabdriver's way was Inu Yasha.

“I haven't seen her since last night!” Inu Yasha stood up, realizing the monk didn't know where she was either. He licked his cut lip looking Miroku in the eye. “I left without her.”

“Where did she go?” the monk demanded, slightly calmer.

“How the hell should I know? She was standing on the street when I left,” Inu Yasha screamed back. Without warning, the hanyou's fist connected vehemently with the monk's face. “Now, get the fuck out of my way!”

Miroku spit out a tooth, but didn't care. He had deserved that much. He allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment. His sister needed him more than his pride needed restoration. “Where do you plan to look for her?”

“None of your freaking business!” Inu Yasha yelled back as he made his way out of the bar.

“You won't make it to the accident sight in one piece if you drive drunk.”

“I'm not drunk!”

“Then, how come you only knocked out one of my wisdom teeth?”

“Keh!”

“I'll drive,” Miroku declared as his cheek began to swell.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Sango was not having a good day. That was the understatement of the decade. After spending the night discovering that her entire world was built upon lies, she drove back to her building to realize she still had an incident report to write. It was times like this she wished she did delegate power more often. Her morning had progressed horrendously. The calming effects of the balm had worn off just before she realized her first aid kit wasn't equipped to deal with her wound. As she walked up and down stairs overseeing the investigation, she also noticed neither of her bosses had been located. Not because her staff was lazy, they knew better, but because neither answered their phones. Bastards!

She was angry at the world when the worst bombshell hit her. Miroku's little prank wasn't little. She couldn't log into her computer, retrieve her voice mail, or even unlock the door to the executive washroom. He was going to burn slowly before she fed him to the sharks.

She ground her teeth as the perspiration dripped into her eyes. She was in pain. She was convinced the burn hurt more now, than before the stupid balm. She would poke Old Miko with a hot stick before feeding her to the crocodiles. Then, she would show Miroku how to properly shoot his gun, using his nether regions as the bull's eye.

Her phone rang. “What?” she shouted into the receiver.

“Sango,” Sesshomaru's voice was cool but demanding, “why haven't you brought me the package?”

“If you haven't checked your messages, someone stole it last night!” Venom dripped into her words.

“That was your job,” he reminded her.

“Listen, you self-serving bastard! I've spent the damn night chasing your stupid package around town and the only thing I have to show for it is a headache and a first-degree burn on my back. I'm not even going to be able to take time off to recuperate from this, so don't talk to me about my job! Go ask your fucking girlfriend if she knows what she did with your stupid little package!”

With that she slammed the phone into its hook. It would be another hour before her actions registered, but by then, it would be too late.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

It was a strange sensation. Sesshomaru had never felt this before. It was so bizarre that he did not register Sango's insults. He had promised Kagura her freedom, and he might not be able to deliver. No. The Lord of the Western Lands did not fail.

He left his office, still dressed in his pants from the night before. The house had returned to normal as Jaken permitted the staff to return. Some of the maids were enjoying the eye candy as he quickly made his way to her room. They would figure something out.

He stopped in front of her door. What if Sango had been right? What if Kagura already knew? What if this had all been a trick from Naraku? The cold sun filtered into the hallway reminding Sesshomaru of the passage of time. What if she planned this? What if she had gotten her heart and left?

No. She wouldn't leave. She had to know their destinies were intertwined. He would believe in her. He opened the door and walked inside, instantaneously recognizing the change. The curtains were open, filling the room with dull light. On the bed, there was a half-packed duffle bag, and before him, looking out the window, was the wind demon with a beating heart in her chest. “Kagura?”

“I should have left. I had the tickets and fake papers. I could have hidden from him.” Her voice was as stoic as his as she refused to face him.

Looking at her beautiful exposed back, he said, “But, you didn't.”

“I couldn't decide, and by not deciding, I made a decision,” she answered curtly. “I should have just left.”

The red dress hung to her hips beautifully as Sesshomaru digested her words. “Why?”

“It was silly of me to stay,” she answered admiring the distance of the sun. He took another step forward, letting the door close behind him.

“Why?” he asked again.

“It would have been easier for everyone for me to just disappear.”

“Why?”

She turned towards him, anger radiating from her eyes. “Don't you know how to ask anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then, why do you need to know?” She turned the tables on him.

“I need to know if you understand.”

“Why?”

He took a predatory step towards her. “So we can stop playing these games.”

They stood a few inches apart as he looked into her tired eyes.

“Where do we stand?” she finally asked.

“Right now, I'm not sure,” he confessed. “You are a hard woman to read.”

She rubbed her temples tiredly, before turning towards him and demanding, “Tell me it wasn't only sex! Tell me I didn't waste the best opportunity to gain my freedom for a fling!”

“Is that what you think?” he asked pulling her towards him. “Is that how little you think of me? Do you honestly think that I would have brought you here if there wasn't something more? Do you think I would have marked you unless I was serious about my intentions?”

“How should I know?” she demanded, unable to contain her anger. “Everything with you has been a sexual game of dominance!”

“I am an Inu Youkai!”

“And I'm a wind demon. If you want me to cut my wings, you need to be clear with your intentions!”

He growled as he pulled her close. “I want you in my bed every night of the week. I want you, but not as my slave. I want you as my mate.”

Neither left the room that morning.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Myoga examined the vehicle with a keen eye. Why was it that things with the Higurashis always got extremely complicated? “I can't imagine she walked out of that on her own.” He confessed to no one in particular. The front of the car had been turned into an accordion, and even though the air bags had detonated, she should have had trouble freeing her legs, since the accordion effect had eliminated much of the front legroom, but that would explain the blood spatter inside the car. The flea took a deep breath before analyzing the facts once again.

A yellow cab, ignoring the police signs pulled up to the accident. Three officers approached the vehicle as the two men exited it arguing. “You drive like my grandmother!” the one riding shotgun yelled.

“Really? She liked NASCAR too?” the driver replied sarcastically.

“I could have gotten us here in half the time!” the first protested as the police captain sighed.

“You would have gotten us here in a body bag!”

“Enough you two!” Myoga shouted. “Inu Yasha, I don't care if she's your girlfriend, you're not supposed to be here!”

“Like you can keep me away?” The strong smell of sake hit the flea as he approached his ward.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Why do you think I had to let the baka drive?” Inu Yasha walked past him, feeling like he had swallowed the concrete slab that had broken his rib days prior. The car looked worse in person than on television.

“Who are you?” Myoga turned to the other man in question.

“Miroku Higurashi, and if you will excuse me, I would like to find out what happened to my sister.”

A light of recognition filled Myoga's eyes as he remembered the young boy that had managed to pull Kagome from her father's body. Had so much time passed?

“That is a job for the police,” Myoga informed. “Rest assured, we will find out where she is.”

“Like you found out who killed Taro?” Miroku raised an eyebrow, and when the flea failed to respond, returned to inspecting the vehicle. Inu Yasha was sitting on the driver's seat, with his legs outside the car.

“Her scent was washed out by the rain.” Inu Yasha explained as he tried to push aside the smell of her blood. He lifted up the deflated airbag.

“What's that?” Miroku asked as he noticed a rip in the bag. Touching it, he replied, “It's a clean cut, as if it were made with a knife.” Turning to Myoga, he asked, “Did anyone deflate the airbag?”

“No, it was like that when we found it. They deflate almost instantaneously, you know,” the flea answered as he walked up to the two. It was not good to let his men think that these two were doing all the work for him.

“How about the seatbelt?” Miroku asked as he searched for it.

“We haven't touched a thing.”

“She was driving the car,” her brother spoke solemnly as he held up her cell phone. He moved away from the car and walked over towards the railing.

“We think she may have stumbled out of the car and tried to walk for help. We are examining the side of the mountain, in case she fell in the process. But, we have no reason to believe she is not alive.”

“She would never have left her cell phone behind!” Miroku protested.

Inu Yasha growled as he began to examine the steering wheel closely. Myoga watched closely as the brother stepped over the railing and looked in some of the bushes. His sister wouldn't be in there. Why was he looking? “She was taken by force,” both interlopers announced. Miroku walked back with the seatbelt in his hand.

“Look at the ends; it's been ripped out,” Miroku announced as he threw the seat belt at the police captain. “I'm guessing a demon by the strength required to do so.”

“There were at least two,” Inu Yasha growled as he pulled the sliver of metal from the steering wheel. “And one had a knife.”

“They said on the news that her car lost control. How do you know?” Miroku demanded, not liking what he had found.

“There are no tire impressions on the road that indicate she tried to stop.” Myoga explained.

“Has anyone checked the breaks?”

“You have to excuse us slow moving officers, but there is a thing about evidence called a chain of custody. We can't just go doing things without first making sure the scene has been processed. They will check the brakes at the lab!” Myoga tried to defend himself.

“The brake pedal is completely sunken in,” Inu Yasha informed as he thanked Kami that the room left by the pedals would have been enough for her not to have lost a leg.

“She must have lost her brake fluid,” Myoga reasoned. “It could have happened in the crash.

“Given that there are no sharp tread marks, the likelihood of her having lost the brake fluid before the crash is greater,” Miroku countered as he walked in the direction the car had come. “I got a message from her mechanic last night that her car would be ready by morning… he would have made sure the brakes were working. He's very thorough.”

“Are you saying someone planned this?” Myoga questioned.

“This ain't no accident!” Inu Yasha replied as he squashed the flea on his way out of her vehicle. He tried without success to pick up her scent, not caring if the officers made fun of his sniffing the ground.

“Over here!” Miroku shouted. Out of curiosity, the other officers followed as well. He was kneeling by the other side of the highway, were the soil met the concrete.

“Look at these tread marks!” Miroku demanded.

“They are big!” one of the officers replied as he placed a ruler by them before photographing them. “I would say an eighteen wheeler. I will know for certain after I compare them at the lab.”

“I meant, look at the direction!” The frustration was growing in the monk's voice. “They are facing the railing…The truck would have had to been intersecting at least two out of the three lanes to do that!” Miroku observed.

“This was a kidnapping,” the flea agreed. “But who would take her?”

“I think it would be easier to answer, who wouldn't,” Miroku replied sarcastically before turning towards Inu Yasha. “We should shorten the list.”

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Sango's employees had learned to steer clear of their boss when there was a certain demonic sparkle in her eyes. Today was not any different. The sparkle looked more like a red targeting rifle laser, but the warning was clear. She was not in a good mood. So, when a package was delivered to the office, her secretary was very tempted not to pass it along. Unfortunately, it was marked urgent, and Nadia knew better than to delay its delivery.

The woman knocked slowly and ventured to enter, only after her boss had screamed a few curses. “I hate to bother you, Miss Kizu, but this package came urgent.”

“Do I look like I care?” Sango snapped. The pain had caused her to go into a cold sweat.

“I'm sorry,” the young girl began as she held up the package, “but it says medical…”

Sango rushed the girl's side and took the package from her. She looked inside, and remained tense for a few seconds before turning to her quite frightened secretary and giving her a big kiss. “Thank Kami!”

Nadia looked at her boss in confusion until the woman told her to lock the door. “I chased a suspect into a boiler room;” Sango began to explain, “In the struggle, I bumped into a broken steam pipe.” She handed the jar of balm to her assistant. “It was still hot, and I got a nasty burn,” Sango finished. “They gave me some of that when I was treated, but, it wore off.”

The young girl assisted the security head in removing the windbreaker, and then, she applied a generous amount of balm to the burn. It seemed a bit small to be a pipe, but what did she know about pipes, anyway? Sango Kizu wasn't known for her great ability to lie. Besides, the woman had no need to.

Nadia smiled as she noticed her boss was relaxing. She was going to keep a few jars of the stuff handy. “Do you want me to bandage it?”

“Yes, please.” The secretary was smiling again. If her boss remembered her manners, then it meant she was back to her old self. “Oh, the guy from ITS called.”

“How long until we have network access?”

“He's not sure, but he said he reset your voicemail. It's back to the default password, and so is your computer. At least you can access your personal files.”

“Something is something.”

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

“Let's split up,” Miroku suggested as they drove back to town.

“Do you have a lead you don't want to share?” Inu Yasha demanded.

“You seem sober enough to ride your bike,” Miroku observed. “I thought it would be useful if you checked out other leads.”

“Why?”

“Because, if I take you with me, you'll kill my potential witness before he spills!”

“Keh, I have more self-control than that!”

“But, I don't! I need someone that can control me before I kill the bastard!”

“Oh?”

“I figured I could take Sango and have you check the apartment.”

“Haven't you checked your home yet?” Inu Yasha demanded in a growl. If she had escape, she might have gone there!

“Of course I did, but it doesn't mean you can't find clues I can't see or smell!” Miroku shouted back. He wasn't in the mood to be patient. “The hit was perfectly executed by a professional. They had to have been tailing her. I figured that if you checked the apartment for any strange scents and compared them to those in the garage, you might get a lead!”

Inu Yasha looked at the monk suspiciously. He wasn't lying, and it made sense to an extent. “Sango will be with you?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” Miroku made a sharp right, onto an uneven street. Keeping the car on two wheels he cut through a tight alley into the other side of town. Making a sharp left, the car bounced back onto its four wheels. “I told you: you drive just as slowly as my grandmother.”

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

“Kouga sit still,” Ayame warned. After the wolf demon had been given medical clearance, his fiancé had managed to purchase the last two first class tickets to Tokyo available. Actually, they were the only two tickets the airline had left.

“Why won't this idiot take off?” Kouga growled.

“For two reasons: First, he hasn't been cleared.”

“Who needs clearance?”

“And because not all the passengers are on board.” Ayame sighed as she continued to type away. She hadn't had a chance to respond to the quarterly reports until now, and frankly, business always took her mind off her personal troubles, like the fact that her best friend was in direct life-threatening danger.

“I told you we should have rented a private plane!”

“None were available.”

“We should have flown ours in!”

“It would have taken twice as long to get back,” Ayame replied calmly. Her boyfriend was a bit of a hothead at times.

“Forget this shit!” Kouga yelled as he stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to the pilot!”

“Didn't she kick you out of the cockpit already?” Ayame asked with a raised eyebrow.

“She needs to understand that time is vital!”

“And you need to understand that if you bother her again, she'll have us thrown off the plane, and we won't be able to get back until tomorrow night. So, sit down and be quiet!”

The wolf prince growled in return, but did as he was told. He could be patient. “This is your captain speaking. I have just been informed by our flight attendants that we will be momentarily delayed, waiting for our connecting passengers.”

Kouga growled as his eyes tinged with red.

“She'll be fine. She's an amazing girl, you know,” Ayame reassured. Kouga just buried his claws in his armrest.

“If you only knew how much danger she really is in…” Kouga thought to himself.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Unable to get any work done thanks to Miroku's little bug, Sango resigned herself to reading more case files. Old Miko had included some vital folders with the balm, which was working a lot better now that she was applying it regularly.

Sango sighed as she switched files. She was surprised to find Kouga's file was light. She expected someone like the Wolf Prince to be high on The Agency's priority list. On the first page, in big bold letters, was the word `Ally.'

“That explains a lot,” Sango mumbled as she read through the file. There wasn't much of interest or value in it. He had gone to school for Management and International Business. He was a hothead that enjoyed extreme sports, and he had raced on many occasions with Inu Yasha in underground street competitions. He was to be married to Ayame next summer, a woman he was madly in love with. She was his second love after Kagura Naraku, but it was Ayame's name that was his ATM password. But, most of this information she already knew from working with Ayame.

Sango picked up the phone on the second ring, noticing the damaged receiver… “I cursed out Sesshomaru!” she realized. Since she was still alive, she ventured to hope that he hadn't noticed. “Full Moon Enterprises, Sango Kizu speaking.”

“Sango, why haven't you called me back? I left five messages for you!” Miroku demanded.

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that a certain someone disabled my voicemail!” she shot back.

“So you haven't heard?”

“Heard what?” she asked, noticing the gravity of his tone.

“My sister is missing. It looks like she's been abducted. I just dropped Inu Yasha off. Can you meet me at Jakotsu's; I need someone to keep me from killing the bastard before I get the information I need.”

“I'm on my way,” she replied standing up. “Nadia!” she screamed. “Forward all my calls to my cell phone. I'll be out of my office for the rest of they day.”

She didn't waste time in running to her car, which, she realized still had a bomb in it. She would have to take a cab. How she hated this situation!

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

Inu Yasha felt strange entering the empty apartment. If she wasn't here, there was no reason for him to be there, but Miroku was right. There was much to learn here. He made his way to her room, enjoying the slight scent of her shampoo. What he would give to have her standing before him right now! He would even forget her trespasses. He would forgive her and take her into his arms, where he could protect her. “Kagome,” he whispered as he entered her room.

It smelled of her, even though she hadn't stopped by in a couple of days. He walked in taking a look around, and stopped short in front of the mural. The painted hanyou was growling, snarl on his lips and crimson in his eyes. He seemed ready to pounce, even though the arrow kept him in place.

With cautious steps, he walked towards the mural. “You know where she is,” he demanded. “I know she's alive. She has to be! I can still feel her, and so can you.” He lifted his hand to the surface of the painting before finishing, “Show me where she is! Show me, so that I can get my bitch back!”

His fingers felt a surge of electricity as the room became dark. “Inu Yasha…” The rain was pounding on the car as he looked on to her half conscious self, lying on the air bag. She called for him. The driver side door was opened and a small framed demon leaned in, stabbing the airbag so hard and fast, his knife was caught in the steering wheel. He tried to pull her out, but the seatbelt kept her in place. The passenger side door opened, and a second, bigger demon leaned into the car. Effortlessly, he ripped the seatbelt from her body. Inu Yasha tried to grab her before they removed her from the car, but his hand went through her body.

Inu Yasha didn't realize he had moved his hand until he saw her bed. The vision had faded. “You couldn't stop them either,” he spoke to the mural softly before lightly touching the painted hanyou once again.

It was dark, damp and cramped, but she was there, chained to a wall. “Kagome?” He walked towards her, hearing strange voices echoing in the small space. They seemed to be coming from above. He couldn't make them out. Touching the cold stone wall, he walked to her side. “Kagome?” he asked again. He observed the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She was alive and well!

“Where are you?” he asked as he tried to make sense of the round tight room. He had never been in a place like this.

“Mine!” the shriek came from above as rows of pointed fangs descended upon him.

Inu Yasha opened his eyes. He was still in her room. The painted hanyou looked back at him with pleading crimson eyes. Inu Yasha understood. He was pinned to a tree, bound by color pigments. “I'll get her back,” he promised pulling out his cell phone.

.

.

.

524663

.

.

.

“What do you mean you don't know what happened to Kagome?” Sango demanded the minute she stepped out of her cab. “Doesn't the Agency put some sort of GPS on all its members?”

“We do, in our cell phones, but Kagome left hers in the car.”

“Don't you have secret ones implanted under your skin, or something?” Sango asked.

“We tried that, but one of our enemies got hold of the frequency. The Agency hasn't used them in years,” he answered as he walked up the steps.

“What does Jakotsu know?”

“He always keeps an eye on my sister. He has said more than once that he would like to turn her into his protégée.”

Not bothering to knock, he kicked the door down. Sango was impressed, considering that it had only been a few hours since his sister removed the bullet from his back. She followed him quietly, noticing how determined his step was.

Jakotsu never saw the fist that contacted with his eye. The dominatrix should never have left his study. “Where is my sister?”

“How should I know?” Jakotsu asked from the spot on the floor he had landed. Dressed similarly as the last time, with the exception that today's color scheme was red, the sex lord quickly knocked his opponent to the ground.

“I know you keep your eye on her,” Miroku replied as the two got to their feet. Jakotsu wasted no time in kicking Miroku back down.

“I don't know what you… AH!” Sango had pinned Jakotsu the wall with one arm over his Adam's apple, and her gun pointed between his legs. “I see you brought your new master… Sango, was it?”

“Jakotsu, meet Kira,” Miroku introduced as he stood up rubbing his sore chest. Sango had been quick. He figured her style of interrogating would be faster than his. “Do you want to know how she earned her name?”

“We didn't take her! We didn't know she was gone until we saw it on the news!” Sango pulled back the safety of her revolver. “All we did was remove our protection! And you deserved that! That little prank of yours ruined our dining room!”

“Your protection?” Sango inquired.

“The word on the street has always been that Higurashi is under our protection; we changed that,” Jakotsu informed. Miroku, he could read. This new dominatrix was a different story. She had potential. If he could introduce her to some toys…

Sango didn't stop Miroku from knocking out the she-male. This wasn't good. “I had to remove her security detail last night as well.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. She had already ditched them earlier.”

“Anyone could have taken her,” Sango complained.

“Hello?” Miroku answered his cell phone on the first ring. “Inu Yasha, slow down… Where did you see her? What vision?” Miroku walked back to his cab as he listened to the frantic ranting of the hanyou. “I have no idea where that could be… Demon with many teeth that shrieks… that narrows it down to half the city. No, it's a start… See if you can find anything else, I'll ask Old Miko if she knows where that is. Thanks.”

He turned to Sango as they entered his cab, “Inu Yasha had a vision.”

“Since when?”

“It was provoked by a sacred object in Kagome's room. She's alive but being held either underground, or in a low place. Inu Yasha said that she was in a round stone room, with dirt floors and a multi-fanged demon on the ceiling.”

“I've never heard of such a place.”

“Neither have I, but Old Miko might have. We should return to base, regroup and go from there. It's already noon. She'll have the day's messages ready.”

“I haven't done that yet,” Sango replied as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. She typed in her regular code, but it was rejected. “Shit, I forgot they reset it.” She mumbled as she started to type in the password, `change me.' Sango paused and bit her lower lip.

“That means you're thinking,” Miroku observed.

“Do you have a pad and paper?” she demanded.

“Glove compartment… why?”

She didn't answer as she began to toy with a theory. “I know what it all means!” She shouted after a few minutes. “I know why Naraku hasn't obtained the jewel!”

.

.

.

 

 

 

0

0

0

0

Definitions:

A/N: Japanese translations in this chapter were obtained on http://www.trussel.com/f_nih.htm and http://www.freedict.com/onldict/jap.html

Kansendouro - (n) road; thoroughfare

Kira/Kiraa - (n) Killer

I would like to thank Frame of Mind for helping with this chapter. She got me through my block and beta the chapter at the same time. It looks like you guys got an extra chapter, though I would like to apologize for this taking so long. I got so caught up with house repairs and my new job.

I can't say when the next chapter will be out, but I will try my best to make it ASAP.

LOVE YOU ALL.