InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Overboard! ❯ Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Neither the characters from the storyline `Inuyasha' by Rumiko Takahashi, nor the plotline from the movie `Overboard' starring Goldie Hawn, are mine.

 

Author's Note: Have I inspired anyone to watch the movie yet?

 

As for why Sesshoumaru didn't notice the difference in eye color between the two girls - I think he has never stared deeply into Kikyou's eyes in this story. Plus, he is adept at seeing only what he wants and ignoring everything else. He's very… focused.

 

Overboard (Inuyasha-style)

Chapter 4:

 

Tapping her fingers on the bar top in irritation, Sango perused the lobby once more. The note had said she would meet them in the hotel lobby, but evening came early in Shanghai on the east of a time zone, and so far there was no sign of their friend. Kikyou appeared concerned as well, while Inuyasha remained carefree, and Miroku showed no sign of distress, although he probably felt it. Perhaps the girl had gone out to eat dinner, before returning from the tour?

 

It was strange, the way she had suddenly left a note and stormed off without her long-time friends. Sure, it was rude of Kikyou and Inuyasha to have relations in the same room as a person who was trying to sleep. But this alone did not seem like enough to incite such wrath in a usually kind and complacent Kagome. And she was obviously furious - the note was clipped and terse, stirring up Sango's curiosity. Clearly, something else had happened last night that upset the girl.

 

Now, as the last few members of their tour group straggled in off the streets, Sango was becoming more and more concerned. When her friend arrived, they were going to have a long talk! Friends didn't leave other friends in the lurch. Wondering where Kagome had been all day or what had happened to make her so angry was driving Sango to distraction.

 

With a soft scrape, Miroku pushed back his chair and smiled. His serene expression did not reach his eyes. “If it is all right with you, I am going to sit in the room for a while,” he intoned softly.

 

Nodding her agreement, Sango and her violet-eyed friend crossed gazes. Silently, they both recognized the fact that it was getting late, and someone might need to sit by the phone in case she called. This way, they could cover more bases. As he walked away, Miroku touched her shoulder reassuringly, demonstrating that he understood her unspoken concerns.

 

Once in the suite, Miroku flopped down on one of the single beds and positioned himself beside the phone. There were no messages waiting for them at the front desk. With a sigh, he switched on the television to pass the time while he waited, never knowing that he and his friends had just missed a most interesting broadcast, a few hours ago.

 

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Any doubts he might have had about the Plan had washed away, in the face of this woman's obvious insanity. It was hard to feel sympathic toward her while she was driving him up the wall. Surely, she must be a manic-depressive nutcase; her demeanor gyrated between happiness and somber resolve, every fifteen minutes or so. And traveling with her was, quite frankly, embarrassing. First she pushed her nose against the window of the plane, staring out at the sea like she had never been flying before, then she stuck a pair of complementary headphones in her ears, blasting herself with music while relaxing into the business class seat. Later, seeming to forget that she had the earphones on the maximum volume, she had turned to him and screeched loudly in his ear. “Look,” she had squealed, “I can see Mount Fuji!”

 

Other passengers had glared in his direction, as though he was riding with a recalcitrant two-year old on a business-trip and clearly should have known better than to bring her. Yet how was he to have known that a person could change so drastically, just from developing amnesia? Maybe this was what the usually dispassionate and aloof Kikyou was really like underneath the surface. It was almost too much for his overtaxed brain to contemplate.

 

Calling ahead from the airport, he had dismissed Rin's nanny early and instructed her to take a well-deserved break from work. Next, he had spoken with his daughter to explain the situation before he arrived home. Of course this was easier said than done. The girl was only four years old; it was both easy and extremely difficult to explain things to her at once. He compromised by simply informing her she should call the woman “Mommy” because that was her name. The situation wouldn't last long. Doubtless, Kikyou would regain her memories upon seeing familiar areas in Japan. The psychologist's report in the police station in Shanghai had virtually assured him of this fact.

 

And so it was that he drew himself ever deeper into his current quandary.

 

The ride home had sparked absolutely no recollections in the girl. Upon seeing the limousine, she had gripped his arm tightly and frowned. “I feel like I have never ridden in one of these before…” she had murmured pensively under her breath. Hearing the soft-spoken words, he had inspected them for truth.

 

Inuyasha had taken his girlfriend places in this very limousine before - he knew it. He remembered calling the chauffeur himself, trying to cancel his half-brother's reservation, determined not to allow his sibling to waste money on impressing his useless friends. Unfortunately, his Father had overridden him, stating the boy should be allowed to have his `fun' while in college. Sesshoumaru had thought it exceptionally foolish to believe his half-brother would ever grow out of such extravagant gestures, if permitted to continue when he was young. Company cars should be used for company functions and business only, not for random dates and spoiling oneself with lavish expenditures.

 

It was yet another subject on which he and his Father did not see eye-to-eye. But then, Touga had already established himself in the world, and his business was flourishing. Sesshoumaru was the one trying to save money and someday surpass his Father.

 

In any case, it was clear that the silly woman had not remembered herself yet, merely by sitting in a familiar car.

 

Very well then, he decided, he would simply keep her a few more days. It would do no good to release her on the streets of Tokyo, without even an address to send her home. If her memory came back early, then he would gladly let her go. Meanwhile, she would be fine by his side; his house was spacious enough to accommodate three people.

 

His half-brother's pleasure cruise would last until the end of the week. At some point, the boy was bound to notice her absence. Eventually, he would return defeated and desperate to know where his precious girlfriend of the week could possibly be. And once Sesshoumaru observed his brother's whole-hearted repentance for leaving the poor girl alone nearly twenty-four hours in a foreign police station, then he would relieve Inuyasha's misery and reveal the girl was safe and sound.

 

This tricky issue resolved at last in his mind, Sesshoumaru softened his stance somewhat. There were approaching his home, and his chauffeur was smiling and nodding in response to a comment the woman had made. His brow crinkled slightly.

 

Although Kikyou had been reticent at first about riding in the limousine, she had obviously begun to enjoy the ride. After playing with the speaker controls in the back and switching on and off the recessed lighting panel, she had endeavored to engage him in idle conversation. When this failed, she had tapped on the glass panel dividing the front and back of the car, and she had started chatting with his driver.

 

Amazing really, how complete her amnesia-induced personality shift had been. It was almost as though she had become a different person. Sesshoumaru squinted at her and examined her more closely, as the car parked in the driveway. Had he accidentally rescued a random Japanese tourist from Shanghai? No, this definitely looked like the girl that his brother had been dating. Only her attitude had changed entirely. Admittedly he did not know the girl too well; maybe she was like this all the time.

 

Stepping out of the limousine, he thanked the driver and guided Kikyou into his house, whereupon a screaming brown and black streak streamed toward the door. “Daddy! Daddy!” Rin chanted over and over, “You're home! You're home!”

 

Out of habit, he braced himself against a wall, ready for the impact of a fifteen kilo flying child below the knees. Instead though, the four-year old skidded to a halt in the foyer, staring at the newcomer in the hallway. Her hair was messy today; he could tell she had been trying to fix it herself after her nanny left. The pigtail stuck straight off the right side of her head. Not eager to find out whether the child remembered his instructions from the airport, Sesshoumaru knelt and picked her up immediately.

 

But before he could say anything at all, he heard a puzzled voice from his side. “I have a daughter?” the woman asked incredulously.

 

Internally, he groaned. There went his idea of claiming that `Mommy' was just a name, thereby avoiding confusing issues for Rin later on… But then, the concept had been faulty to begin with - ultimately his `wife' was bound to broach the subject. He had merely hoped to discuss it out of Rin's earshot.

 

Taking her cue from this, Rin grinned exuberantly. Never even questioning the oddity of having a mother where none had existed before, she abruptly reached out and requested a hug. It lasted all of two seconds. Then, struggling to get down to the floor, Rin grabbed her mother's hand with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, a look which her father knew well. Sometimes his daughter seemed to understand more than he did; she always saw through his excuses. And often she seemed more like her uncle Inuyasha than he was willing to admit, for she loved to pull pranks on her caretakers. He would have to watch her closely. “Come on, I'll show you my dolls!” she exclaimed, dragging her captive up the stairwell.

 

“Okay,” the woman replied weakly, “Have I seen them before?”

 

He followed, and for the rest of the day he merely watched them interact. Surprisingly, the two girls got along quite well. Although Rin appeared unconvinced by the pretense of having a new mother, she was clearly all right with the idea of having a new playmate. Bemused, he shook his head and went to unpack.

 

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“These are my clothes?” Kagome mouthed with wonder. An entire closet full of incredible, snazzy, expensive dresses and suits lay open for her perusal. She blinked and forcibly ignored the voice whispering in her mind, telling her she was unworthy to wear such things.

 

Still, it was strange. In her gut she knew that she had never worn such beautiful clothes in her life, she knew it. Yet there they were. Glancing downward, she saw an abused pair of dirty sneakers, a worn pair of jeans, and a well-traveled t-shirt, all of which smelled rather badly after over a day's worth of travel. Glancing back into the closet, she saw fields of cocktail dresses and high-heeled pumps. Italian loafers, Armani suits, private changing room with a rotating shoe rack… Something didn't match up here.

 

“These are my clothes?” she repeated again, louder this time. “These can't be my clothes.”

 

Behind her, Sesshoumaru lounged on the bed observing his `wife' as she fawned over his mother's old wardrobe. The lady had passed away a few years ago, and Touga had immediately married his mistress, leaving his eldest son to deal with his mother's belongings. Her entire estate had passed to him by default, because she died intestate and no one else expressed any interest. And for some reason, although women's clothing and effeminate trinkets did not please him, he had been unable to throw anything away or give the outfits to charity. For a while, the cloth had retained her scent and he had surrounded himself with them on bad days, basking in her smell. Some days he missed her more than others. Most days he missed her terribly.

 

But at the moment, he did not miss her at all. It would have amused his mother to watch this woman swoon in awe over her possessions. Furthermore, she would have loved dressing up a `less-fortunate' creature in a respectable fashion. Biting back a smirk, he dared the girl to try something on since she did not believe the dresses belonged to her.

 

“Well, okay…” she mumbled in response. “But you have to leave the room!”

 

Truly, the gods were kind to him today. Teasing her was too simple. “But my dear,” he intoned darkly, “We're married. Why so shy?”

 

Instantly, Kagome turned as red as a beet. Perhaps she might not be able to remember her name, but she was absolutely certain that undressing in front of a man was forbidden territory. Pondering why this should be, she put one hand to her lips in puzzlement. “We don't sleep in the same room though, do we?” she asked. Certainly, she would remember something so monumental as…. as… shared living space!

 

He relented on this one. At the end of the week, he intended to return her to his half-brother, so complications like this were out of the question. So far, he had skirted any legal issues; there would be no cause for anyone to sue him for helping out an abandoned Japanese tourist in China. And it was not against the law to tell someone she was your wife. Not even when the lady had no way of knowing the truth. And he couldn't have kidnapped her, because she was willing and she was not a minor, right? So there was no harm done, as long as he took care of her while she was disabled and delivered her to her friends when they re-entered Japan.

 

“No,” he replied cautiously. “You always sleep downstairs. The couch is good for your bad back.”

 

“I have a bad back?” Kagome moaned. It was believable enough; she had been feeling very sore in that area, ever since… well, ever since she woke up on a dock in Shanghai.

 

“Yes,” he assured her as he departed the room, allowing her some privacy. “You herniated a disc, trying to carry too much at once.”

 

Continuing to pester him even after he left the room, she called out questions and replies, as she dumped her clothing on the floor in a messy pile and considered throwing her shoes in the trash. The sneakers seemed almost frightening; the soles were worn, and they looked shoddy after their sojourn in the ocean. Maybe these were her traveling pair, footwear intended only for comfort on long trips.

 

Meanwhile, she enjoyed the sensation of plush, dark beige carpet under her feet, and she tried to remember her favorite color, seeing no other way to choose a dress from the multitude of hues and fabrics before her. One dress in particular caught her eye - it was a long black gown with a simple design, and a velvet top. Slipping herself into the outfit, she walked into the bathroom to examine her profile in a mirror.

 

The dress was too long for her and it fit oddly, making her look slightly lumpy on both sides. The chest was too loose, and the waist of the dress lay too low on her frame. Once again, something just did not seem right. Confused, she called out to him yet again. “Sesshoumaru, I've gotten shorter!”

 

“You normally wear high heels,” he answered glibly from directly outside the bathroom door. With a gasp, she turned to see her husband calmly standing in the bedroom, his hands in his pockets.

 

The walk-in closet was behind him, and the door to the bedroom was between them to one side, therefore he must have seen her wander past the entrance in a dress before he had intruded. Still, she did not deal well with being startled. “The shoes don't fit me either,” she snapped, although she had not tested a pair yet.

 

“You've lost a lot of weight,” he added smoothly. As he spoke, Sesshoumaru wondered if lying was something at which he naturally excelled, or if he was learning the skill on the fly. The trick would be writing down his excuses so he would not slip up and change his story later. “You had to because of your back.”

 

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” she mumbled unhappily. It was crushing! All those beautiful clothes and none of them were going to fit her, because she was too flat chested and bony around the waist, now that she had lost so much weight. Meandering back into the closet, she held up various different outfits by their hangers, laying them along her front to compare sizes.

 

The light suddenly shut off above her head. Looking back to the door, she could see her husband, holding down a switch on the closet doorframe, outlined by the light in the bedroom behind him. “It's very late,” he reminded her gently, “You should rest.”

 

All the excitement and commotion today and the night before had left her bewildered and unsure of herself, so she quickly agreed and followed him down the stairs. After he prepared her a spot on the sofa, she wished him goodnight, then cuddled into the cushions on the couch. Hopefully, in the morning she would remember a little more about her life. Her husband seemed like such a nice man, albeit a tad silent and stern. She wanted to remember him.