InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Fire in Ice ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

[ 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

A/N: This chapter is actually dedicated to haters, who still make some sense among their mindless rants. “Anon” was the first to review this story, and made several good arguments as to why IY/YYH crossovers wouldn’t work. I regret “Anon” not leaving some way to communicate---their knowledge of YYH was incredible, and spawned many plot bunnies, grin. Hoppity hop hop…so thanks, “Anon,”  this weebo actually listened.

Chapter Seven

She must have needed the rest more than she’d realized, for when Sango awoke, it was dark outside. Moonlight flooded the window left open to catch the cool mountain breezes, making a distinct square against the far wall. An effect marred by the pointy-eared blot in one corner.

Fisting sleep from her eyes, Sango questioned drowsily, “Kirara?”

The little nekomata perched on the windowsill swiveled her head to look back at the slayer, her red eyes glowing slightly in reaction to the darkness. She readily jumped down when Sango leaned up on one elbow. Fighting back a yawn, the taijiya patted the futon beside her. She made room for the kitten, who clambered over the pillow, her purrs increasing when Sango ran a calloused hand along her spine.

The two-tailed glanced back towards the window before kneading a place for herself. Still petting the kitten, Sango looked out the window, curious as to what held the little cat’s interest. She stiffened, spying two bloody orbs glowering from the dark shadows of a nearby tree.

It seemed they didn’t trust her as much as they pretended, if they had set Hiei to guard her.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it. Deliberately turning her back, Sango drew the covers up over her shoulder as she stroked Kirara, who ignored the apparition’s presence to curl up into a purring ball of contentment. Sango closed her eyes, but sleep was a long time coming.


“You ever get a crick in your neck from sleeping in trees, Hiei?” Yusuke teased when the short demon finally put in an appearance at breakfast the next morning.

“Hn.”

“You’re sure hanging about a lot more then usual,” Yusuke prodded, taking a loud slurp of his coffee.

Hiei ignored him as he helped himself to a piece of fruit.

“What, cat got your tongue?”

That earned the detective a sharp look, one seething with enough malice to cause chills to go down even his spine. Helluva way to wake up in the morning. Worked better than coffee, actually.

Yusuke grinned.

“Why, good morning, boys!” Botan bounced into the kitchen, arms loaded down with several shopping bags. “Isn’t this just a beautiful day?”

“Sure, whatever.” Yusuke rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his coffee. It was black as a sinner’s soul and hot enough to scorch---just how he liked it. He thought about heating up some food for the old hag, but remembering all the torture she’d put him through yesterday, reconsidered. Breakfast was usually a quick-grab, whether leftovers, fruit, raw or boiled eggs---which were always kept in a big bowl on the middle shelf. It was one of the few things the old witch knew how to cook, and she boiled them up by the cauldron.

“Now, that’s hardly healthy!” Botan looked askance at his egg. Dropping her shopping bags, the ferry-girl glared at the poor detective. “Don’t you know, Yusuke, that the right way to start your day is with a good breakfast? Especially while training!”

The ferry-girl bustled around the kitchen, scolding him the entire time as she set about making a proper breakfast of miso, fish, tamago and rice. Yusuke forgave her when she set a plate before him, even decked out with little pickled vegetables as garnish. Yusuke didn’t mind Botan’s bitching if she wanted to stop by and make meals like this more often. He  was salivating just looking at it. Picking up his chopsticks, he closed his eyes and thanked the gods (namely, Koenma) for sending him such a divine angel.

“Not so fast, punk.” Genkai yanked the chopsticks out of his hand and the plate off the table.

“What the hell!” Yusuke hotly protested.

“You gotta earn breakfast around here, dimwit. Outside, and give me twenty.”

“Grandma!”

“Make that thirty. Now, get!” She thwacked him on the noggin with his own chopsticks.

Shoving his chair back, Yusuke tried to gulp down the last of his coffee, but she snatched that, too, the hag. “Damn it!”

“Now, it’s fifty.” She matched him glare for glare.

“You just like pissing me off, don’t you, Grandma!”

“Want more, you little prick?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Yusuke snarled, the screen door slapping shut in his wake.

“Oh, my.” Botan put her hand over her mouth, pink eyes wide, as Genkai grimly followed him out.

Hiei only smiled.

*He really has an evil smile,* Botan thought with a shudder. Then, noticing the taijiya hesitating in the doorway, she turned, wreathed in smiles as Hiei’s abruptly faded. He didn’t get up to leave, though, which was saying a lot.

“Good morning, Sango!” Botan greeted, ushering her to the table and ignoring the demon, who rudely kept staring with no expression on his face. *Doesn’t he ever blink?*

*No.*

The thought was short, sharp, and like a sword thrust right through her skull. Yikes! Botan jerked, her eyes wide as Hiei gave her a smug look. *My, my, aren’t we chipper this morning?*

His look darkened, and she put on a patent smile, trying to ignore the unease that trickled down her spine with icy fingers. Hiei in a bad mood was worse than Hiei in a good one.

*I trust you to remember that, reaper.*

“Eh-heh,” Botan laughed uneasily, carefully avoiding those pervasive red eyes as she helpfully pulled a chair out for Sango across from him.

“Thank you,” the taijiya quietly said, and Botan turned to her in relief.

“Oh, it’s no problem, surely! Please, sit, and I’ll bring your breakfast over in a jiff.” Botan dashed to the stove, and paused, considering, before piling three more plates full since it appeared Hiei wasn’t going anywhere and Genkai would join them soon. “Do you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee?” the girl asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“It’s a stimulant,” Genkai explained, abruptly returning. “Imported. I’ll pour you a cup.”

Sango gingerly folded her hands in her lap, looking distinctly on-edge sitting across from the fire demon. He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her. Her eyes narrowed slightly in reaction, annoyed by the uneasiness that unwavering stare caused.

A thunk made them both jump as Genkai dropped a steaming mug in front of the slayer, taking a seat between them with another in hand. Inhaling the distinct aroma, the old priestess took a long drink, evidently enjoying herself. Tentatively following suit, Sango tried the acrid liquid. She blinked, and carefully put her cup back down.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Genkai mused.

“Hn.” Hiei crossed his arms as Botan bustled over with plates and chopsticks, fussing until she had served everyone.

“This is nice,” Genkai allowed, smirking at the uncomfortable tableau they made. Botan unconsciously inched her chair a little closer to Sango---and a little further away from Hiei.

“Why, it was hardly any trouble, Lady Genkai!” she answered too brightly.

“It’s really beautiful,” Sango said, her smile warm with appreciation. Botan beamed.

Hiei grunted. They looked over at him, but he ignored them to start shoveling food inside his mouth as if someone might snatch it at any moment. Really, the demon’s table manners were downright dreadful! What was he, raised by wild animals? Botan sincerely hoped Sango didn’t think that was in any way normal. Though, considering the way Yusuke practically inhaled anything put in front of him, maybe it was normal. At least, for them. They were, after all, still growing boys.

Botan stifled a giggle. Maybe Hiei was hoping to grow vertically. He was a little challenged in that direction. Catching the apparition’s eye, her mirth died. She sincerely hoped he hadn’t overheard that thought!

“Mew?”

Almost faint with relief, Botan quickly pushed her chair back as the tiny kitten appeared in the doorway. “Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, Kirara! I got you some kibble while I was out---”

“Kibble.” Hiei sneered.

“What’s wrong with kibble?” Botan parked her hands on her hips.

“She’s a fire youkai, not a cat.”

“Kirara’s not hungry.” Climbing to her feet, Sango hurried to intervene. “She was already out this morning, hunting.”

Kirara looked smug.

“Fish?” Sango asked, in that strange way she had with the nekomata. Botan watched in awe as the cat meowed, sinking back on her haunches to clean her shoulder. “Did you leave any for us?”

Kirara deliberately turned her head to stare down the hallway.

“There better not be any “presents” left in my living room,” Genkai muttered darkly.

“Hey, Grandma, what’s with all the dead fish on the porch?” Yusuke sauntered in, hoisting a sizeable haul neatly twined together with reeds.

“You caught all that?” Botan asked, impressed.

“Thank you, Kirara.” Sango knelt and gratefully scratched the kitten behind the ears as she preened.

“She didn’t have to go and do all that,” Botan said, taking the fish from Yusuke and wrinkling her nose at the smell. She fastidiously put them in the sink.

Noticing her distaste, Sango said, “Don’t worry, I can clean them.”  

“Heck, I’ll eat ’em, if you cook ’em,” Yusuke volunteered, snatching his plate off the counter and bolting it down before his damn teacher got any more bright ideas.

“Won’t be time for that,” Genkai interrupted, between bites. Ignoring their puzzled looks, she said, “You know, girl, you don’t have to earn your keep. At least, not yet.”

Her smile was as sweet as a young maiden’s, and just as coy.

Hiei looked startled, and then his crimson eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I don’t want to put you to any more trouble than I have already---” Sango began.

“Wow, imagine that.” Genkai pretended astonishment. “Gratitude. Real, to god’s honest truth, gratitude.”

She scowled at her apprentice.

“What?” Yusuke demanded, somewhat muffled by the omelet he’d just swallowed whole. “Whatcha muttering about now, you crazy old crone?”

“Yusuke Urameshi!” Botan rounded on him. “Honestly, I don’t know why Lady Genkai ever agreed to teach you with that kind of attitude!”

“What kind of attitude?” Yusuke scoffed. “That old bat dishes out more shit than I could ever dream.” His brown eyes glowed with admiration. “Do you truly know how fucking evil she is? Gods, I hope I’m that good someday.”

Sitting back in her chair, the old priestess smirked. “Maybe one day, brat. If you manage to survive Toguro.”

The mood abruptly turned somber. Botan turned stricken eyes on the young detective, who only shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. “Whatever, hag. I got that one in the bag.”

“That cocky shit will get you killed, dimwit.”

“Not if you kill me first. Fifty damn push-ups, just to scarf breakfast!” Licking his chopsticks clean, Yusuke dropped his empty plate in the sink.

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” Genkai promised, finishing her breakfast as well. Standing up, she pointed at Botan. “You two finish up and meet me in the dojo in thirty minutes.”

“But I brought all those clothes---” Botan protested, indicating the shopping bags still piled by the back door.

“Okay, an hour,” Genkai relented. “Gives Yusuke a chance to warm up. But then I want to see you,” she ordered Sango, “in gear and ready to go.”

“Go?” Botan blinked, even though Sango looked composed.

“Yes, Genkai-sama.” She nodded, and Yusuke suddenly looked interested as Hiei frowned.


“This is too much,” Sango said, perturbed by the ferry-girl’s generosity. Not that she wasn’t grateful---more than she could say, actually. But there was more clothing piled on the bed than she had ever owned in her entire life.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a few things I thought you might like.” Botan cheerfully ignored her protests. “And some you definitely could use.”

She eyed the slayer’s make-do bra. While an Ace bandage had never been anything she had ever considered using in that particular way, it did do the job. Somewhat. But Botan was eager to introduce the taijiya to such wonders as sports bras and real underwear. Both of which Sango actually recognized, thanks to Kagome. Though wrestling into one of those bra-things proved a lot harder than it looked, and provided a lot of amusement for Kirara, who watched the proceedings from her perch on the pillow.

But Sango had to admit the “sports bra” was a lot more supportive---and yet less restrictive---than her usual careful bindings, once she figured how to put it on. And the Kagome-underwear were a lot less bulky than the traditional men’s fundoshi that she normally wore beneath her armor. But she was grateful to slip into the familiar black silk of her uniform, feeling more like herself than she had in too damn long.

Not that Botan’s offerings weren’t pretty. Beautiful, actually, with such bright colors and soft fabrics. Though very simple in design, a few left too much skin bared. Which seemed to be the style, if Kagome and Botan were anything to go by. The ferry-girl’s pretty pink kimono had been exchanged for a pair of jeans and a nice blouse, as she called them. “Casual wear,” she explained, as if her kimono was some type of working attire. Perhaps it was.

“Are you decent?” Botan called, her voice muffled behind the door. She had politely left so Sango could get dressed in private.

Tying her sash tight, the stiffened leather of her sword belt hidden behind the pretty red silk, Sango said, “Yes, thank you.”

The screen slid open, and Botan smiled. “Do you know, you look so much more relaxed. I bet it feels better to be back in your own clothes, doesn’t it? Not so alien. But is that stuff really armor? It looks so…light.”

Sango smiled. “It’s actually quite sturdy. We bind the silk with demon-hair, which makes it a lot more durable than its looks.”

“Demon hair?” Botan looked dubious, picturing bad movies in the 1930’s featuring American Indians going after scalps. Or was it settlers scalping Indians?

“Well, the fur of the fire-rat is better, if one can catch it. That’s nearly indestructible, but I’ve only known one person who had armor like that.” Sango smiled a funny sort of smile, and shrugged. “Mine’s a little more mundane. It came from a hair demon named Yura. It’s impervious to most acids, though not all of them, and it really soaks up the blood.” Which was useful, in a way, in not leaving a trail, but had its drawbacks, as it was a real pain to clean.

 “Did you…” Botan began tentatively, uncertain how she might ask. Even in her “armor” Sango just didn’t fit her idea of a cold-blooded killer. That ensemble looked like some ninja-type otaku costume one might find at anime conventions.

“No,” Sango reassured her with a smile. “My father traded for it, and had me and my brother outfitted with new armor.” Her smile faded as her eyes clouded. Then she shook herself, and offered a wan smile. “Sorry. It hits me sometimes, catches me off guard. I know Kohaku’s dead, but for me, it’s only been six weeks.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry, Sango, I keep forgetting…”

“It’s all right. It helps to know he’s at peace.”

Botan bit her lip. She had the sudden urge to hug the poor girl, but restrained herself, uncertain how welcome the gesture might be. Glancing down at her wristwatch, she seized on the distraction. “Oh! We better get a move on if we don’t want to be late.”

“I’m ready---though I hope Genkai returns more of my weapons.” Sango shifted uncomfortably, unused to not having at least one knife to hand. Well, she did have the hidden blade along her right vambrace. That comforted her somewhat.

“They’re in the dojo,” Botan reassured, and led the way after Kirara hopped up on the taijiya’s shoulder. “Including that giant…what is that thing, anyway? It looked like a giant boomerang.”

“It is,” Sango said, smiling. “Though I’m surprised you recognized it.”

“It’s unusual,” Botan admitted. “I thought they only used them in Australia, but I also thought they were much smaller.”

“Well, my grandfather adopted the Hiraikotsu from a much smaller version, one brought over from the mainland. Or maybe it was the islands. My father thought it would be a better weapon for me, since it’s primarily a distance weapon. Though I can also use it for melee or defense, at need. It’s rather versatile.”

“Melee?”

“Close combat,” Sango replied, distractedly scratching the kitten riding on her shoulder. “My father tried to focus on my strengths and overcoming my weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” Botan asked, pausing to slip on her shoes before stepping down into the grass. Sango’s soft, leather-soled boots were already tied to her feet.

“I’m a woman.” Sango shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ll always be at some disadvantage, fighting against men. They’re usually stronger than I. At least, physically. I have to make up for the difference in other ways.”

Botan wondered what those “other ways” were, but didn’t have the time to ask, as they had finally reached the dojo. It was a huge building, far larger than any Sango had ever seen. But it was comfortingly familiar, with its plain, unvarnished floor, racks of weapons, and the faint smell of dust and sweat, old leather and metal polish.

Sango had expected an audience, even resigned herself to it, but not her opponent. Kurama, dressed in an impeccably neat, yellow over-robe and comfortably loose, white shirt and zubon, patiently waited just inside the door. Standing beside him was the short, dark-haired demon, a bored expression on his face.

Botan was equally surprised to see the fox. “Kurama? What are you doing here? I thought you were in school.”

The kitsune smiled warmly, nodding a greeting to Sango as he looked down at the beautiful ferry-girl. “I was able to get off for the afternoon, although I have to return tomorrow for a test. One I cannot miss.”

“Well---”

“Ya done chatting?” Genkai suddenly interrupted, gesturing for Yusuke to go dry off as she came over to them. She jerked her head to Kurama, who bowed slightly and then made his way to the center of the room as the old priestess turned to Sango.

“Hmph. Came prepared, have you? Good.” She stared critically at the taijiya, then reaching out, scooped the kitten right off her shoulder and into Botan’s arms. “Weapons can wait; I want to see your forms first. And since the fox knows traditional kata as well as newer taijutsu, then there won’t be an unfair advantage. I also trust him not to lose his head.”

She scowled at her apprentice.


Yusuke smirked beneath the towel he was using to mop the sweat off his face. His short black hair stuck out wildly in all directions; Genkai had given him one hell of a workout. He elbowed Hiei, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed and look bored. But the fire demon’s red eyes followed the taijiya as she took a position across from Kurama, who had moved to the middle of the floor. She took a moment to roll her shoulders, shifting her weight from one leg to another and loosening up her muscles. She nodded her readiness, bowing respectfully to Kurama, then assumed a defensive stance Yusuke didn’t recognize.

Kurama seemed to, for he sunk into a shadow of it, if slightly different. The taijiya’s eyes narrowed, and she shifted her weight back a bit, now bracing most on her back leg. Kurama smiled, and actually assumed another position. Yusuke didn’t know what that was all about, but Genkai smirked.

“She looks so small,” Botan whispered to Yusuke, hugging the kitten to her chin. “Do you really think…?”

Hiei’s eyes flicked over to the ferry-girl, then back to the pair facing off.

“Hn.”

Yusuke smirked.

“Guess we’ll find out,” was all he said.

“Begin,” Genkai ordered, stepping back.

Nobody moved. Then Kurama tried a simple overhand strike, which the taijiya easily blocked. They circled, cautious, tentative, feeling each other out. Neither was one to press the attack before taking their adversary’s measure, but Yusuke could tell Kurama was being very careful with the girl. Almost too much so.

“You’re wasting my time. Both of you, grab your big girl panties and handle it,” Genkai growled.

Kurama smiled slightly as the taijiya flushed. She nodded to Kurama, and they both suddenly went in for a whirling combination of kicks and chops, blocks and rapid hand maneuvers. It was clear both knew what they were doing, one easily countering the other’s movement as one attack flowed into another. It was almost a dance in its own way, each fighter perfectly poised, a master of the various styles they tested against each other and both clearly enjoying the exercise.

Genkai wasn’t. The old priestess scowled. “What is this pansy-dance shit? This ain’t dance class! Get in there and fight.”

Kurama shrugged, and left off the traditional kata to go for an underhand combination that had the taijiya leaping back. Her eyes narrowed, and she went in with her own maneuver, one that took the kitsune by surprise, although he countered readily, following up with a kick calculated to sweep her legs out from under her. The taijiya back-flipped to avoid it, and aimed a spinning kick for his head, followed by a quick downward strike for his unprotected kidneys. The maneuver took incredible finesse to twist into a virtual pretzel in midair like that, but Kurama easily blocked the taijiya’s kick, and merely sidestepped the strike by not following through on the spin. He answered with an attack of his own, and the taijiya retreated with a crossed blow aimed for his knee.

“That all you got?” Genkai prompted from the sidelines, and they sped it up, breaking away from any specific form and finally getting serious. Their moves became more elaborate, their contortions more gymnastic as they used the wide space to their advantage. The taijiya employed mostly evasive maneuvers, keeping a careful distance between them. She was almost paranoid about getting too close to the kitsune; Yusuke wasn‘t sure why. Kurama was typically a distance fighter, but he wasn’t a slouch when it came to close-combat, either. The kitsune’s form was elegant, his moves studied and graceful. He wasted no effort on artifice, each move calculated for some purpose only he knew. The taijiya was equally cautious, although she was slowly taking on more of the offensive. It was almost beautiful, in its way, watching two masters sparring, but Genkai was unimpressed.

“I’m getting old here, can you speed it up any? As in, any time this century.”

That was where the taijiya finally showed signs of faltering, for while she managed to keep pace for a while as Kurama easily moved into a faster tempo, her exertions were clearly catching up with her. And Yusuke, who had seen Kurama fight, knew the fox was still holding back, for the detective could easily detect the movements the taijiya couldn’t. Maybe it was her lack of spirit awareness, or maybe she had just grown tired, but moves she had easily countered before they increased the pace she didn’t even see, much less block. But Yusuke honestly didn’t know if she even knew, because Kurama didn’t strike when he could have, time and time again. Instead, he pulled his blows, turning each move into another, deliberately slowing down until she could follow the movement, and then the fight became that much more intense. For while she was slow---painfully slow to their eyes---she was damn good at what she could do.

But it wasn’t enough. Not by half. And a part of her knew it; he could see it in her eyes, in the set expression that thinned her mouth. Determination glittered in her dark eyes, and she stubbornly kept at it, even when she was reduced to mainly defensive moves as Kurama pressed the advantage. A lot more of his blows landed, though she narrowly escaped time and again any of the harder ones that should have laid her cute ass out. But they both knew she was in retreat, and it was just a matter of time. The rest of them were silent, watching for the end---Botan with a fearful expression, Genkai a frown, and Hiei expressionless.

Suddenly the taijiya was down, some strike of Kurama’s having folded her around her midsection as the air exploded out of her lungs in a whoosh. She toppled like a reed.

“She’s done,” the fire demon said coldly, and left.

Surprised, Yusuke stared after him until Botan’s excited exclamation drew his attention back to the fight.

“Oh, well done, Sango! That’s the spirit!” Shifting the kitten to one arm, the ferry-girl threw a fist into the air, her pink eyes dancing with delight.

“What happened?” Yusuke demanded. The taijiya was back on her feet, Kurama now on the floor, though he was getting back up with a rueful expression. He nodded his respect to the taijiya, who distractedly elbowed the sweat off her forehead even as she warily settled into another stance. By the cool calculation in the fox’s green eyes, Yusuke knew he wouldn’t fall for that one again. Whatever the hell it was. Irritated he had missed all the fun, the Spirit Detective crossed his arms and scowled.

“It seems I underestimated you,” Kurama said, barely winded as the taijiya frankly panted. “My pardon.”

She nodded, too breathless to reply, but watched him warily, her concentration so total it was almost eerie. Yusuke’s brows rose. He recognized that state, but wondered if she did. She had unconsciously realized Kurama’s superiority, but was too damn stubborn to quit. For her, right here and right now, only the fight existed and she was going to give all she could before she gave it up. That was a fighting spirit Yusuke could damn well admire. Gods, he wanted to hug her.  

Genkai seemed to recognize it, too, for her mouth quirked as she said sharply, “Enough.”

The taijiya shied as Kurama stepped back, and then shook herself, as if suddenly realizing the fight was over.

“A good match, Sango-sama,” Kurama complimented as she stiffly returned his bow.

She frowned. “You’re…very good.”

“Much practice,” he said, a little dismissively.

She nodded, her look thoughtful.

“Walk it off,” Genkai ordered. “You don’t want to stiffen up.”

She nodded, still somewhat out of breath. Kirara jumped down out of Botan’s arms to go join her.

“Well?” Yusuke demanded as Genkai approached, taking a water bottle out of the fridge and handing it to Kurama. “Seen enough?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re a twisted bitch who likes torturing people for the unholy fun of it.”

“Damn straight.”

“So what’s next? Swords with Sparky? Boomerang with Botan? Yuri with Yusuke?”

“Yusuke Urameshi! You…” Botan sputtered, furious. “Pig!”

Her oar was out and swinging for his head before he could even duck.

Genkai shook her graying pink head. “You really are a dim wit, dimwit.”



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