InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Fire in Ice ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.
FIRE IN ICE

Chapter Four

“Why, that’s what I came to tell you!” the ferry-girl said, her smile blinding. “After I advised Prince Koenma about finding her frozen in Tarukane’s vaults, he had me research unaccounted souls for the past seven hundred years or so. While Spirit World’s record-keeping wasn’t as good back then as it is today, we were able to pinpoint exactly---”

“And how the heck did you manage to do that, Botan?”

“Please. I can read souls, Yusuke.” The blue-haired girl scowled. “I am the Grim Reaper, after all.”

Who or what a Grim Reaper was, Sango had no idea. But she knew full well what this girl was. One of the spirit guides who ferried dead souls across the River Styx to the afterlife. And someone she had never wished to meet again. At least, not without Naraku.

Letting her oar dissolve, the girl crossed the room so she could address Sango directly. “If you recognize me, then you’ve seen one of us before.”

Sango slowly nodded, the memory stark. Unlike this ferry-girl, the one who had come for Kohaku---and what she thought at the time, her as well---had been dressed entirely in black, her stoic expression pitying as she calmly explained that it was not yet Sango’s time. Then she pulled a weeping Kohaku from the taijiya’s bloody arms and gathered him to her breast, rising up on her oar. Sango had frantically chased after them, calling out for her brother even as they disappeared into the gathering mist.

And then she’d awoken to the earth heavy around her, each breath an agony as pain lanced throughout her broken body. She scrabbled at the damp clay, which threatened to swallow her silent screams forever beneath its smothering weight…

*I will not die!*

The cry echoed in her ears even as Sango’s expression hardened, pure pride keeping her on her feet even when she wanted to sink like a stone to her knees. Kirara made a low noise in her throat, leaning into her, and Sango took comfort from the neko’s solid presence. Her hand tightened into the thick fur, and she had to clear her throat before she could respond. “Yes, I’ve met one of you before. Ayame, she said her name was, when she came to take my little brother.”

“Oh, yes. Kohaku.” For a moment, the blue-haired girl looked pained. Something akin to regret flickered through her pink eyes, and she said softly, “I want you to know, he’s at peace now.”

“Now?” Sango questioned sharply.

“Ah---” The girl couldn’t quite look at her, and turned in relief when the dark-haired boy came up alongside her.

”Remember us, Botan? Still standing here wondering what the heck is going on?”

“Leave it to the dimwit,” the old priestess growled, although she looked no less interested.

“Oh, yes, sorry!” The ferry-girl---Botan?---ran a distracted hand through her hair. Caught in a high ponytail, with two tendrils allowed to curl down her shoulders, it was the pale blue of a young spring sky. She smiled apologetically. “It’s just so exciting, meeting a living legend. Well, not that you’re a legend, per se, but being the descendant of such a priestess as Midoriko…not to mention, a real taijiya from the Sengoku Jidai---it’s like history come to life!”

The Sengoku Jidai. Kagome had used that term a time or two, saying that’s what they---her time, in the future---called it, the Warring States Era. Sango had found the name rather apt.

But hearing it now, said so off-handedly, raised goose bumps along her arms. It was all neatly fitting into place, with too many truths she couldn’t deny. And while Sango might distrust these others, she couldn’t ignore what basically amounted to a messenger of the gods.


Yusuke grimaced. “Ugh. History. I always hated that subject.”

Botan snorted. “That’s hardly surprising. From what I’ve seen, you hate every subject.”

Kurama hid a smile. The Spirit Detective’s less than stellar scholastic performance often misled others into thinking he wasn’t that intelligent. While not always clever, Yusuke had an uncanny knack for seeing straight to the heart of things that often left him, touted valedictorian of his sophomore year, far behind.

“You kids going to waste time arguing or get to the frickin’ point?”

Flustered, Botan gave Yusuke a dirty look before bowing in apology to Genkai, who only crossed her arms and raised a pointed brow in Sango’s direction. The taijiya wore an inscrutable expression, but considering the circumstances, that was hardly surprising. What was surprising was how well she was taking all of this.

Kurama studied her surreptitiously. While clearly tired, with telling circles under her eyes, she stayed stubbornly on her feet, leaning only slightly into the large nekomata at her side. Kirara, much more fearsome in her larger form than in her kittenish one, actually made the black-haired girl seem slight by comparison.

“Really, there’s so much to tell, I don’t even know where to start. Or, Sango, do you…?” Botan turned to the girl, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, just get on with it.” Yusuke rolled his eyes. Botan rounded on him, but he put his hands on his hips. “It’s clear this is damn uncomfortable for her, Botan, so let’s hurry up so we can finally get past all this awkward bullshit.”

Kurama hid a smile. Trust Yusuke to put his foot square in the middle of the situation. It was awkward, for all of them.

“Well, we don’t have all the details, of course, and a lot of it’s classified…” Botan demurred, giving Sango a troubled look.

The slayer feathered a hand through her thick bangs, leaving them in disarray. Her dark eyes, measuring, went to each of them before finally coming to some sort of decision. She looked down at Kirara, who wrinkled her nose and gently head-butted her hip with an encouraging sound. The taijiya sighed. “There’s not much to tell, really. I was raised by a village of demon slayers. We were attacked, betrayed, by a demon named Naraku. I‘ve been hunting him ever since.”

“Not much to tell!” Botan demanded shrilly. “Sango, your whole village, your whole family, was slaughtered by that monster, and yet---”

“Drop it, Botan,” Yusuke said, eyes on the slayer.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Sango. I didn’t mean to be so unfeeling---it’s just so tragic, and there’s so much that, well…” Botan bit her lip, and then soldiered on. “There’s just so much that can affect this time, you see. Our time.”

“Kagome’s time,” Sango said, half in question, and Botan nodded. Hope flared in the dark eyes. “So she’s really here, in this era?”

“Yes, and no,” Botan hedged, biting her lip.

“Why don’t you explain who this ‘Kagome’ is,” Kurama smoothly intervened, drawing forward, “and then maybe we can figure out what’s best to be done.”

“Kagome’s a girl from the future. Or, well, my future.” Disconcerted, Sango stumbled over her explanation. “She…uh…travels back into the past, her past, through a dry well on her family’s shrine. The Bone-Eater’s Well. And if Botan’s right, and she’s living here and now, then there just might be a way for me to---”

“No,” Botan said, heavy into the sudden silence. “I’m sorry, Sango, but…”

“What do you mean?” Sango demanded. “You said Kagome’s here, in this era. That means she’s alive, and if she’s alive, then I can find her, and use the Well to get back to my own time.” Kurama didn’t need Hiei’s Jagan to understand what she left unspoken: “And back where I belong.”

“It’s 1991.”

Confused, Sango said, “What does that have…?”

“Higurashi Kagome didn’t travel back to the past, to the Sengoku Jidai, until the Year of Our Lord, 1996.”

Kurama felt a chill, even as the taijiya shook her head.

“I still don’t…”

“According to the archives, Miss Higurashi fell through the well on her fifteenth birthday, hurtling her back 500 years into the past, where she accidentally shattered the Jewel of Four Souls and met you and Inuyasha and the others. But that happened in the year, as we count them by the Gregorian calendar, 1996. Right now, though, it’s only 1991, and it hasn’t---won’t---happen for another five years yet.

“Kagome Higurashi is only ten years old. She’s still a little girl.”

“But---”

“I’m sorry, Sango, truly I am.” Botan tried to reach out and hug the other girl, but she backed away, shaking her dark head.

“But that’s impossible. Kagome can’t be just ten years old. That would mean---”

That she was trapped here, in the future, with no way home.


Sango refused to believe it. There had to be a way, there just had to be! Her mind churned, refusing to accept there wasn’t some means for her to get back home. She didn’t belong here, in Kagome’s era, where humans and demons were on such friendly terms with miko and spirit-guides. Where everything---from the smells to the strange sounds to their odd clothing and blunt way of speaking---kept reminding her how much she didn’t.

The others were not immune to her predicament. The red-haired man pursed his lips, and said, “But surely, Botan, if this Bone-Eater’s Well is an open portal to the past---”

“But it isn’t.” Botan shook her head, not without regret. “Open, that is. It’s tightly sealed, and has been ever since, ah, that is…” She shrugged helplessly, not sure how much she could reveal without affecting the future as it now was. She rushed on, conscious of Yusuke’s opening his mouth to protest.

“Look, the Well must remain sealed until Kagome opens it on her fifteenth birthday. Otherwise, we don’t know what might happen, in both the past and in what we know as the future. Our future,” she stressed, looking helplessly at Kurama and Genkai for support.

“Time paradox,” Kurama murmured, and Botan nodded emphatically.

“Yes, Kurama. We cannot risk what has happened for what might happen.”

“But you don’t know what will happen, do you, Botan? You don’t know if, sometime in the future, there might be a way for Sango to get back to her own time,” Yusuke pointed out.

“But we do know, Yusuke,” she said sadly. “There is no record of Sango ever returning to the Sengoku Jidai. We have no evidence of the taijiya past her encounter with the ice serpent. Inuyasha and the others---they mourned her as one dead, and that actually helped to eventually turn Ko---” The ferry-girl coughed, flushing, and wouldn’t look Sango in the eyes.

“But---” Yusuke started again, until Genkai elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up. “Grandma!”

“Leave off, lackwit,” she snapped in a whisper for his ears alone. “Can’t you see this is hard enough on her?”

He could see, as they all could, even if the girl stubbornly tried to hide it. She was too pale, and her hands, buried in the sympathetic nekomata’s fur, held on to the large cat like a lifeline.

“He’s dead, you know,” Botan offered softly. “Naraku.”

The slayer’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“They killed him---Inuyasha and the others. Though it took a long time, almost three years, actually, and he managed to do a lot of evil before then. But they did get him, in the end. If that helps.”

Naraku, dead. It felt completely unreal, even just the thought. And the fact Botan referred to it in the past tense, the distant past tense, just made it all the more…surreal. Sango didn’t know how to take the news, whether she should rejoice in knowing that vile monster was gone, or whether she should be furious, that fate had conspired against her so that it hadn’t been by her hand. No, that honor had been another’s, whether Inuyasha or Kagome or Miroku…

“And the others? Did they…?” she finally managed after a long moment.

“Survive?” Botan smiled tremulously, glad she could offer some comfort to the poor girl. “Yes. Yes, they did. Even Ko---ahem, I mean, Kagome. Yes, Kagome. Eventually, she and Inuyasha…well, I can’t tell you everything, but know that they were all happy, in the end.”

That helped, a bit. To know those she had journeyed with had not only managed to avenge her people, but that they had come out all right, even found what happiness they might. To know Inuyasha and Kagome had eventually settled their differences, that young, orphaned Shippou might have found a new family with them, and that the cheerful monk had not died from his family’s curse, but might go on perverting all the pretty girls he cared to…

Sango’s throat tightened. It was all too much, suddenly. Too much to take in, too much to grasp. She felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty, something she had never been easy with. She didn’t know how to react, or what to do. What she even could do. Her feelings, they were so tangled, she couldn’t even begin to decipher them, much less deal with them. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to be feeling. Just that she was tired, and somehow…empty. She could feel a headache coming on, and her eyes were too dry and her chest too tight. She wished, suddenly, that she was alone, without them all staring at her and waiting for some type of reaction.


“All right, folks,” Genkai abruptly concluded. “Show’s over.”

“But---” Botan began, but the elderly priestess only shook her head. The ferry-girl’s shoulders slumped, and she gave Sango a last, troubled look before letting Yusuke nudge her towards the door. The fox, a thoughtful expression on his face, slowly followed, Hiei trailing behind. The fire demon paused at the door, his red gaze sharp, but Genkai only raised her brows.

“Hn.” He finally left, closing the door behind him with a distinctive snap.

Ah, teenagers. *Gods, I’m getting too old for this shit,* Genkai thought as she turned to face the girl, hands on her hips. The girl flushed at her slow perusal, straightening away from her nekomata, who whined low in her throat, her red eyes concerned.

*My thoughts, exactly,* Genkai wryly agreed, though she wouldn’t express that thought aloud. Not with someone as prickly-proud as this one. Not yet, anyway. Give the girl a day or two to get adjusted, and then she would see. If the taijiya proved strong enough, there just be the chance that…well, there would be time enough for that, too, later. As for now…

“You look like you could use a bath.”

The girl flushed for an entirely different reason now. She touched her lank hair, looking uncomfortable. Genkai grinned.

“Well, come on then, and I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” The girl hesitated only a moment, then followed the old priestess to the door, her giant cat shrinking substantially in size and then hopping up on her shoulder as Genkai slid the screen back. The hallway was deserted, though she could here the others talking in the kitchen.

“There’s only the one, so we all have to share,” Genkai cautioned, “but I got a new boiler put in last year, so there’s plenty of hot water.” Shoving the cranky door open, she flicked on the light and gestured for the girl to precede her. Slipping past, the girl’s eyes widened as she took in the light fixtures above the mirror, then flickered over the other amenities.

“Sink, toilet, tub.” Genkai pointed to each in turn, lifting the lid to the can and flushing so she would know what it was for. Sango looked dubious, but nodded carefully, the cat wide-eyed on her shoulder.

“Now, this is the tub, and you work the knobs like this.” She demonstrated, showing her hot and cold and how to pull the plug. “Watch close---this is how you turn on the shower.” She wrenched the lever up, and the girl stepped back, startled by the water gushing out of the sprayer overhead, eventually lightening into a steady patter of steamy rain.

“There’s soap and shampoo,” Genkai indicated the ledge, drawing the shower curtain half way so the water wouldn‘t leak out. “Conditioner, too. Towels are in the cupboard, and I’ll bring you something clean to change into.”

“Ah…Genkai-sama?” The girl hesitated as her cat jumped down off her shoulder to stalk across the sink, whiskers twitching. “I…”

“No need for that,” Genkai quickly intervened, uncomfortable with that crap.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“No need for that, either,” the priestess grumped on her way out, shutting the door firmly behind her and hiding a smile.


Sango regarded the closed door quizzically before Kirara pulled her attention away with a loud “Mrew?”

Looking down at the kitten, who blinked up at her, Sango absently scratched her ears before Kirara went to go investigate the funny little brushes stuck in a cup on one side of the wash-basin. She sniffed delicately, idly rubbing her cheek across the blue one before deciding the basin made a perfect place to curl up for a nap.

Smiling faintly, Sango unbelted the sleeping yukata, wincing a little as she peeled the light cotton off her shoulders. Folding it neatly on the counter, she gingerly stuck her fingers under the water to test its temperature and strength. Amazed anew at the gentle rain, Sango slipped inside, pulling the strange curtain closed behind her.

The warmth soaked right into her skin, beating a steady patter against her sore muscles and loosening the tension across her back and shoulders. Sango closed her eyes, luxuriating in the incredible feeling of it. The steamy warmth enfolded her, washing more than just the dirt away. This was a far cry from the cold, mountain stream she’d shared in the village back home. She wondered how they managed to heat the water. A hot spring? She sniffed, unable to detect any sulfur. Maybe there was a charcoal brazier kept fired underneath. She had heard some of the better bathhouses used those to keep their pools warm. She’d never experienced it, though, as her father, wary of their reputation, would never consent to let her go.   

Turning her head, Sango let the warm water drag her long hair back over her shoulders, the heavy weight slithering nearly to her waist. Combing a hand through it, she reached for the shampoo bottle, grateful that Kagome had shown her what to do. Squeezing a generous amount on her palm, she worked the unguent through her dark tresses, washing the soapy residue free before repeating the ritual with the conditioner. Both bottles did not smell like Kagome’s, not being as strong or as flowery. Something which Sango was grateful for, actually. It wouldn’t do to have a demon sniffing you out from nearly a mile away, even if she secretly liked the young girl’s perfumed lotions.

Young girl. Sango stilled, the errant thought sinking like a stone through her conscious. In the steady patter of the rain, it finally sunk home. Kagome---ten years old. A year younger than poor Kohaku, when he…

Leaning her forehead against the tile, Sango closed her eyes and finally let the tears come, hot and angry. What mockery the gods made of her. Naraku dead. Just like Kohaku. Just like their father. Her fist curled, lightly striking the tile beside her head in impotent fury. She sobbed, once, hoarse and raw, and then grit her teeth, refusing to give in to the futility of it all.

And somehow managed, as the rain dripped down around her, to rein it back and seal it up tight, all the raw reaction of overspent emotions. And knew, somewhat bitterly, that she had at least accepted for now what she couldn’t change. And managed, at last, to pull herself upright and look around. Spotting a bar of soap much like Kagome’s, Sango picked it up. Now conscious of the time, she quickly lathered herself up and rinsed herself off. She tentatively pulled at the odd metal protrusion, then tugged harder. It finally went with a wrench, and the rain abruptly died to a few splatters as she adjusted the knobs, shutting the water off.

The air grew cold as the steam dissipated. Shivering, Sango reached for a towel and vigorously dried herself, wrapping her wet hair up off of her neck and blinking at the pile of clothes left on the counter where her yukata had been. She must have really been out of it, not to have heard Genkai come in. The bothered her, but Kirara didn’t seem disturbed. In fact, the kitten was wallowing in her new-found bed in the middle of the wash-bowl, waving her paws and purring contentedly.

Leaning against the counter, Sango idly tickled the kitten’s stomach. Kirara’s purrs increased, sounding like muffled thunder, and batted at her fingers for a scratch under the chin. Sango smiled faintly as the little cat made a glutton of herself, rubbing her cheek along her fingers and demanding more scratches behind the ears. Sango’s eyes caught their reflection in the incredibly clear metal above the counter, and her smile faded.

“Mrow?” Kirara demanded when her fingers stilled. Turning to look over her shoulder, the little cat sniffed disdainfully at her reflection before deliberately turning her back. She looked up at Sango, her black ears pricked.

“It’s…really clear, isn’t it?” Sango said, averting her eyes as well.

Kirara meowed agreement, her twin tails lashing as she climbed out of the sink to check out the odd clothing left for her. Just as curious, Sango carefully unfolded what looked like a pair of baggy hakama, tapered at the ankle like Inuyasha’s, and a simple T-shirt, which she recognized from Kagome. Both were over-sized, and far too big for her. They might be the boy’s, the one with such spiritual energy. Yusuke, if she remembered his name right.

Gods, she hoped she could keep their names straight. Her mind felt numb, overwhelmed with too much information, too much change. She would just have to deal with it, one way or another. Right now, it was enough just to figure out how to get dressed.

Well, pants were pants. They went on one leg at a time. Though she had to pull the helpful little ties taut, winding the braided cord twice around her waist before tying it tight, else they would slide right off her hips. The fabric, while incredibly soft, was also too thick to fold easily. She ended up rolling the bottoms up over her ankles and hoped they would stay so she wouldn’t trip. The shirt hung like a tent on her, the short sleeves reaching past her elbows and the hem hanging down to her knees.  

She felt like a child playing dress-up. Sango grimaced, and Kirara’s whiskers twitched as she sank back on her haunches and gave her the once-over. The amusement in the kitten’s red eyes did nothing to ease Sango’s discomfort.

“I miss my kimono,” Sango said succinctly, and immediately felt ungrateful. They didn’t have to go out of their way like this. She just felt like such a stranger in her own skin. She wondered where her own clothes were, and if they had survived.

It wasn’t just her clothing that she missed. Sango felt defenseless, with no weapons at hand. Well, that might be rectified. Anything, she had learned from her father, could be turned into a weapon, if one were resourceful enough. Staring at the array of items stacked on the cabinet behind her, Sango picked up an odd little tool and weighed it thoughtfully in her palm. The blades were small, but hidden between her fingers, might prove useful…

“They’re a little dull.” A gravelly voice suddenly intruded, and Sango whirled, surprised to see the old woman standing behind her.

“I can get you another razor, if you want to shave. They’re disposable,” the priestess said, amused. She calmly held her hand out, and Sango, feeling like a kid caught with her fingers in the pickled plums, gingerly handed the tiny blades over. Turning, the old woman paused at the doorway. “And if you’re wanting to do something more, like shave a few heads, I have those, too. Though they’re locked up, with all the other weapons, in the dojo.”

Sango flushed.

“Hmph.” The old woman seemed more amused than put out. Leaning against the door, she abruptly became serious. “Won’t help much, though. Not against them.” She jabbed her thumb down the hall, to where the others presumably were. “They’re strong, girl. Really strong.”

Stung, Sango straightened. “I’m tougher than I look, my lady.”

“Heh, I’m counting on it,” the old woman said enigmatically, turning away. Sango looked over at Kirara, who gave her the cat equivalent of a shrug before hopping down off the counter and stalking after her.

Not knowing what else to do, Sango slowly followed.






ooOoo

A/N: I decided to put my two cents at the bottom, just to clarify that I used the manga start dates for both series to add a little twist to this story. =P Also, I wanted to thank all the people who reviewed, and especially Shadowkitten91, who kept me at the keyboard with her truly awesome fanart, entitled "Hypothermia" - a sweet SanXHiei moment from the first chapter. It continually inspires. You can find it at (remove spaces) : h t t p : / / y o u k a i f a t e . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / f a v o u r i t e s / # / d 4 f 4 b 3 0

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