InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Patchwork Family ❯ First Contact ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Allannarose22 
When Inuyasha went for a swim, he just intended to work out some excess energy, not find a temporary roommate. Who is this girl, skinny and half drowned? Why does he feel such a need to help her?
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Supernatural / Romance / Psychological / Drama / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.06.2014 | Updated On: 05.18.2016 | Pages: 5 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 978 | Status: Completed
When Inuyasha went for a swim, he just intended to work out some excess energy, not find a temporary roommate. Who is this girl, skinny and half drowned? Why does he feel such a need to help her?
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Supernatural / Romance / Psychological / Drama / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.06.2014 | Updated On: 05.18.2016 | Pages: 5 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 978 | Status: Completed
((If you originally read this before May
15, 2016, please note that— yes, it has been updated, but
only to fix typos, awkward sentences, and other such grammatical
detritus. There’s no need to re-read everything, unless of
course the idea appeals to you. I know it’s been a long time
since I last uploaded on this story; sorry about that…
life… and stuff. It be like it do…You know how it goes
>.< ))
A/N: All Inuyasha characters and references belong to the creator of Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi, published by Shogakukan. Any other characters are likely my own creation. If I borrow from another story I will do my best to make sure I give credit where credit is due. I have been writing fan fiction (Mostly Inuyasha) for a long time purely for my own enjoyment and have recently decided to put some of the stories I am currently working on out there to see what you all make of it. Criticism is fine and even appreciated as long as it's constructive.
I’ve made a few alterations to characters here and there to suit my own tastes and story, for example the color of Kagome’s eyes, Koga isn’t as old as Inuyasha and Sesshomaru, Sango has a Mexican grandfather (Hugh? What? I know… but somehow it made sense to me at the time). Some might feel the characters are a little OOC but please keep in mind both that this story is AU and that I am representing the characters as they might have progressed over the course of their hundreds of years of development. That’s enough experience to change almost anyone in some ways.
Please review and let me know what you think!
***
Inuyasha waved goodbye as he watched his friend Miroku ride away down the road on an electric purple motorcycle. The bike disappeared between forested ridges cradling the strip of highway and the half-demon powered down his own dark red Hayabusa. Letting the kickstand down, he dismounted and crunched his way across the small gravel lot at the shoulder of the road.
The hanyu stood at the tree line, just at the edge of Six Rivers National Forest. Various trails lay in wait for the impending tourists of summer; with their kids, noise, and garbage. Inuyasha liked it better in the off season. It was spring, and the foliage was new, all freshly uncurled and green. Everything lay, as yet, untouched. When it was quiet like this, he could nearly believe that the world was still as it was several hundred years ago; though at that time he’d lived on a shore far distant from this one.
The entire world had been a much wilder, yet somehow much quieter place. Back then he’d never thought he would ever see it change. Humanity had grown into belligerent masses that consumed everything they came into contact with. Inuyasha gave thanks every time he saw these great trees, thankful that the world’s human population had tempered its hunger, and decided these natural places should be preserved.
He strode along one of the trails, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders cracked, and followed his nose to the bank of the Klamath river. With no one around to get in his way, he picked up his pace until he was almost flying through the trees. A few jumps and turns later he launched himself off a rock and landed on bent knees in a clearing. The shore lay at the bottom of the slope and he wasted no time stripping to the skin. After he tucked his jeans, t-shirt, boxers, and boots behind a bush, he slipped into the water. Let them fuss about indecent exposure; there wasn’t anyone here to be offended.
It was cold, but that didn’t bother him terribly. He made his way out to the center of the current, swimming against it and clearing his mind. Over the years, swimming had turned into a sort of meditation. It was a good way to work off excess energy. As he swam upstream, something began to tug at the edges of his attention. He paused and pulled himself to one side where the current was slower. Inuyasha frowned, amber-gold eyes searching the banks. The breeze carried a scent that didn’t belong to the river and forest. Inuyasha sniffed again, searching, and found it. The profile was predominantly female, and would have been pleasant if not for the strong tang of blood that saturated it, along with a stink of fear and pain.
Still, he saw nothing as he scanned his surroundings. Triangular ears perched atop his head twitched in the cool spring air. There was a splashing sound, a brief disturbance in the water. The noise came from a place just a little farther up the river, on the northern bank. Finally he tracked the smell to a pile of huge rocks that jutted out into the river. The dark water barely moved around him at the bend in the shore, and he swam quietly, edging his way around the boulders to peer at the other side.
The scent of the young woman was so strong now that he didn’t know how he’d missed it, even as far downriver as he’d been. The smell of her blood had increased tenfold, but he didn’t there was no scent of death; not quite. Death had its own peculiar stench, unlike anything else. He wrinkled his sensitive nose as he picked up other things. There was the smell of unwashed men, some of which were unmistakably demon, and spirits, vodka maybe. There was also a faint chemical smell that reminded him of the heavy duty painkillers his friend Sango had been given when she’d broken her foot-- some kind of medication maybe.
A girl was stretched out on her stomach, where she’d apparently managed to pull herself out of the water and onto the sandy bank. She wore a pair of blue jeans that were half shredded and a blood stained, gray, ribbed tank top. He pulled himself out of the water and knelt next to her, unperturbed by his own lack of clothing. He wasn’t shy; and anyway, she was unconscious-- her breath coming slow and shallow.
After a moment of concentration he could hear her heart beating steadily, if perhaps a bit slower than was healthy. When he pulled her shoulder to turn her over the skin was chilly to the touch, and her mouth had turned a pale lavender color-- with the exception of a swollen cut on her bottom lip. It looked as though someone had hit her in the face more than once.
She looked as if she couldn’t be more than twenty two years old at the outside, probably younger-- he guessed around eighteen. He felt her pulse for a moment with the tips of his fingers and frowned. She was definitely hypothermic and he wondered how long she’d been in the water. It had been chilly the last few days and the water was still much too cold for your average human.
Blood was seeping from a gash across her left side and from another long cut down her right leg. There were at least a dozen other cuts and scrapes, as well as marks both new and old. Her right cheek was cut and shadowed by bruises as much as two weeks old by their brown and yellow hues. A ring of mottled bruising adorned her neck like a morbid collar. Carefully he peeled her wet shirt up a little to inspect the wound on her side and saw more bruises, black and dark purple, all along her middle, as if someone had kicked her repeatedly. He swore under his breath; it would be a miracle if she didn’t have any broken ribs. He couldn’t smell any internal damage, but he couldn’t be sure.
Dirt caked her wet skin where she’d pulled herself to the river bank, and her mess of long, dark hair was full of it as well. Now that he was focusing on more than just her wounds, it hit him that this woman was beautiful, despite the condition she was in. Something about him seemed to snap to attention when he looked at her, as if he should know her from somewhere important. He could figure that out later. Right now, he had to get her warmed up and cleaned up, or she might die.
After a quick inspection to ensure there were, in fact, no shattered ribs to puncture a lung, he pulled the girl into his arms. He moved her very carefully as he slipped back into the water. She was very light-weight, almost to the point of looking a little malnourished. She showed the first sign of life when her skin met with the chilly river again. Seizing weakly, she murmured an incoherent, pained protest, but her eyes never opened.
He made it to the other side of the river and gathered her close on the run down the bank to the place where he’d left his clothing. Setting her in the new grass, he dressed quickly. When that was done, he resigned himself to the fact that there was no safe way to carry her on his bike. He’d have to come back for the motorcycle later. Pulling her into his arms again, he set off at a run, moving as carefully as he could with her damaged body. It was a good thing he still ran long distances regularly for the fun of it. Some demons let those strengths wane in this age of industrial transportation.
For over an hour he ran, pausing periodically for a momentary breather. Finally he reached the town of Arcata, where he and about half of his pack lived. He was grateful no one passed him in the apartment building’s lobby or in the hall elevator. He wasn’t certain he could explain this away without someone reporting him to the police. After he laid her on the couch, he made sure the door was locked and then went to dig out some first aid supplies.
The young woman had begun to shiver violently by the time he came back. He looked away a little uncomfortably as he stripped her of the damp, filthy clothing, leaving her panties and sports bra intact. His friend Sango’s voice yelled at him in his head about manners and decency the whole time. As quickly as he could, he cleaned and bandaged her more serious cuts, relived to see they weren’t quite as bad as they’d first looked. The cut that stretched almost from her knee to her ankle was the only open wound in bad enough condition to worry about. He spent a brief minute toweling what dirt he could out of her hair and checking to make sure there were no other head injuries he might have missed. Her long hair was thick and soft, even bedraggled from her trip down the river. There were a few bumps he could feel with the pads of his fingers, but nothing major.
Inuyasha worked a large gray t-shirt over her head and slid a pair of flannel pajama pants over her long legs before he carried her to the extra bedroom across from his own. Once there, he covered her in a thick comforter. She still shook with cold and after a brief moment of consideration, he toed his boots off. Pulling the blanket over them both, he sat with his back against the headboard and situated her in his lap.
For a while he just held her that way, watching with relief as she stopped shivering, her teeth stopped chattering, and some color gradually returned to her face. It worried him that through this entire process she hadn’t woken once. After an hour, she began to curl into his arms, responding to his body heat, and he relaxed a little.
A further hour-and-a-half later he woke from a light doze. Golden eyes opened when he heard his front door open and close. He listened, on alert until he recognized the footsteps, and then the scent of the friend he’d been riding with that afternoon. There came a hesitant knock on the closed door of the second bedroom. Frowning, Inuyasha got up, gently sliding the girl from his lap onto the bed, where she promptly curled into the pillows with a small sigh. Soundlessly, he opened the door. Miroku stood in the hallway; his expression confused as he looked past his friend and saw the girl wrapped up in the bed.
“Inuyasha… what-”
Inuyasha cut him off with a look, bringing a finger to his lips and gesturing back down the hall to the living room. Miroku’s brows flew up, clearly asking for more information. Inuyasha glanced back over his shoulder at the girl before pulling the door shut and leading his friend away.
The curiosity on Miroku’s face was clear, but he followed. When they got to the kitchen, Inuyasha pulled out two bottles of beer and threw one to Miroku, who caught it and leaned against the counter, brows lowering in a slight frown. “So who’s that? What bastard did that to her face?”
Inuyasha stared at him for a moment before he took a sip of his beer and said simply, “I don’t know.”
Miroku looked at him a little incredulously and Inuyasha explained. “I went swimming after you headed back and I found her on the side of the river, half drowned and frozen. She’s beat up all to hell-- and not just in the way the north fork of the river would do. I couldn’t just leave her there.”
Miroku pondered this for a moment before asking cautiously, “shouldn’t she be in the hospital then?” Inuyasha realized at once that this would have been the logical thing to do. Anyone else would have called the police or dropped her off at an emergency room. Neither of these thoughts had even occurred to him. He shrugged well-muscled shoulders. “I didn’t really think about it. I knew I had the supplies to deal with it. Gods know we wind up doctoring people ourselves here often enough.”
Miroku frowned. “Still, it’s not like you to bring home strangers, even so.”
There was a loud knock at the front door. Inuyasha pulled it open to see his older brother Sesshomaru, and his friend and business partner, a lion demon named Gabriel, whose arms were full of soda, beer and pizza. They pushed their way in and saw Miroku’s perplexed face. Gabriel laughed. “What’s the matter houshi? Did your chick finally hit you too hard and cause some brain damage?”
Miroku shook his head, feigning mild outrage. “How could you say such a thing about lady Sango?”
“Probably because she’d do it, and you’d probably deserve it,” the man responded, dumping his armload across the counter. Swiping the remote from the counter, he flipped on the television. “Hey, what channel is the game coming on?”
“32, but keep the sound low.” Inuyasha said as he pulled out a slice of pepperoni. Sesshomaru gave him an odd look and Miroku jumped in all too happily. “He probably doesn’t want you to wake up the woman he fished out of the Klamath this afternoon.”
Immediately the other two looked at him with full attention. Inuyasha sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the random act of kindness sort. Miroku already gave me that speech.”
Gabriel looked confused. “Well... unless it’s a kid… yeah, pretty much.”
Sesshomaru added his own, more direct inquiry. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Inuyasha said. “There was no ID on her. I want to let her sleep for a bit. She’s pretty roughed up.”
“Any idea what happened?” Miroku asked, dropping down in one of the arm chairs.
Inuyasha shook his head. “No. Some of her injuries could have come from a trip down the rough part of the river, but some of the bruises and at least one of the open wounds were probably a few days old. Someone wailed on her pretty good, I think. I smelled at least three men, some kind of drugs, and vodka on her, even after she’d been in the water.”
Sesshomaru’s nostrils flared a little as he collected scent information, then commented thoughtfully, “she is human.”
***
When she opened her eyes, Kagome was aware of one thing: the worst headache she’d ever had. It felt like someone was pulling a ratchet strap tight around her skull. She tried to ignore it, looking around her with eyes that felt as if they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper. The full size bed she was in sat against the wall in a small room. To the left was a window with closed blinds, and to the right was a beat up wooden dresser. Next to the dresser was a closed door and next to her was a night stand with a small lamp. The room was dim, as if the sun was either in the process of going down or coming up; she couldn’t be sure which.
‘Oh Gods, what now?’ she thought.
She frowned and took stock of herself, trying to remember what had happened. Her mouth was dry as cotton and everything hurt like she’d been tossed in a washing machine set on the spin cycle. She moved her arms painfully, aware of every scratch and bruise. With surprise, she found she was completely free to move for the first time in more than… she wasn’t sure, two weeks? Three? Neither her arms, nor legs were bound in any way. She didn’t recognize this place. It didn’t feel like Narakue’s property. It was warm and comfortable, if plainly furnished.
There are demon energies, but the place doesn’t feel the same…’ she pondered.
That was really all she could find out with her miko powers before the energy it took from her very small reserve made her vision blur. She focused, trying to pull herself together, or at least stay conscious. She had to fight for it. The thought of sinking back into the black was appealing on a number of levels.
Slowly, she opened her eyes again, blinking to clear her sight. She forced herself to her feet, biting the neck of her shirt against aches and pains galore. She had to get out of here. Just because the place was comfortable didn’t mean it was safe. She was sure there were plenty of Narakue’s men she’d never met. Looking down, she realized with some discomfort that she was wearing someone else’s clothes, someone much bigger than herself-- someone definitely male. For a moment, she had considered the faint, musky smell attached to the t-shirt she wore. It was almost pleasant, like growing things and sandalwood.
She chided herself for the momentary lapse of focus and hobbled to the door. She listened with her ear pressed against the wood. Sounds drifted from a television, men talking; one of them was laughing. She could hear water running and the sounds of someone maybe doing dishes or cooking. At the thought of food her stomach registered a ferocious growl. Something that sounded like sports commentary was barely audible, and there was a hum as the furnace kicked on.
She swallowed hard and slowly turned the handle. Letting the door open silently, she poked her head out and looked around. She was in a hallway with four other doors, all closed. After about twelve feet, the wood planked hallway opened up to a high-ceilinged living room. She could see the corner of a counter top that made her think there was a kitchen just to the left. Three men sat in front of a large television where a baseball game filled the screen.
Quietly she crept into the hall. She just didn’t have enough information to make any kind of plan. Pulling on her deepest reserves, she expanded her senses again and found there was another man in the kitchen. He and two of the men in the living room were demon, while the last man was human. The space she was in wasn’t big, an apartment maybe. Then she met the end of her energy and her breath caught in her chest; her vision began to blur and spot. The muscles that were barely holding her up started to fail and the world tilted around her.
A/N: All Inuyasha characters and references belong to the creator of Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi, published by Shogakukan. Any other characters are likely my own creation. If I borrow from another story I will do my best to make sure I give credit where credit is due. I have been writing fan fiction (Mostly Inuyasha) for a long time purely for my own enjoyment and have recently decided to put some of the stories I am currently working on out there to see what you all make of it. Criticism is fine and even appreciated as long as it's constructive.
I’ve made a few alterations to characters here and there to suit my own tastes and story, for example the color of Kagome’s eyes, Koga isn’t as old as Inuyasha and Sesshomaru, Sango has a Mexican grandfather (Hugh? What? I know… but somehow it made sense to me at the time). Some might feel the characters are a little OOC but please keep in mind both that this story is AU and that I am representing the characters as they might have progressed over the course of their hundreds of years of development. That’s enough experience to change almost anyone in some ways.
Please review and let me know what you think!
***
Inuyasha waved goodbye as he watched his friend Miroku ride away down the road on an electric purple motorcycle. The bike disappeared between forested ridges cradling the strip of highway and the half-demon powered down his own dark red Hayabusa. Letting the kickstand down, he dismounted and crunched his way across the small gravel lot at the shoulder of the road.
The hanyu stood at the tree line, just at the edge of Six Rivers National Forest. Various trails lay in wait for the impending tourists of summer; with their kids, noise, and garbage. Inuyasha liked it better in the off season. It was spring, and the foliage was new, all freshly uncurled and green. Everything lay, as yet, untouched. When it was quiet like this, he could nearly believe that the world was still as it was several hundred years ago; though at that time he’d lived on a shore far distant from this one.
The entire world had been a much wilder, yet somehow much quieter place. Back then he’d never thought he would ever see it change. Humanity had grown into belligerent masses that consumed everything they came into contact with. Inuyasha gave thanks every time he saw these great trees, thankful that the world’s human population had tempered its hunger, and decided these natural places should be preserved.
He strode along one of the trails, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders cracked, and followed his nose to the bank of the Klamath river. With no one around to get in his way, he picked up his pace until he was almost flying through the trees. A few jumps and turns later he launched himself off a rock and landed on bent knees in a clearing. The shore lay at the bottom of the slope and he wasted no time stripping to the skin. After he tucked his jeans, t-shirt, boxers, and boots behind a bush, he slipped into the water. Let them fuss about indecent exposure; there wasn’t anyone here to be offended.
It was cold, but that didn’t bother him terribly. He made his way out to the center of the current, swimming against it and clearing his mind. Over the years, swimming had turned into a sort of meditation. It was a good way to work off excess energy. As he swam upstream, something began to tug at the edges of his attention. He paused and pulled himself to one side where the current was slower. Inuyasha frowned, amber-gold eyes searching the banks. The breeze carried a scent that didn’t belong to the river and forest. Inuyasha sniffed again, searching, and found it. The profile was predominantly female, and would have been pleasant if not for the strong tang of blood that saturated it, along with a stink of fear and pain.
Still, he saw nothing as he scanned his surroundings. Triangular ears perched atop his head twitched in the cool spring air. There was a splashing sound, a brief disturbance in the water. The noise came from a place just a little farther up the river, on the northern bank. Finally he tracked the smell to a pile of huge rocks that jutted out into the river. The dark water barely moved around him at the bend in the shore, and he swam quietly, edging his way around the boulders to peer at the other side.
The scent of the young woman was so strong now that he didn’t know how he’d missed it, even as far downriver as he’d been. The smell of her blood had increased tenfold, but he didn’t there was no scent of death; not quite. Death had its own peculiar stench, unlike anything else. He wrinkled his sensitive nose as he picked up other things. There was the smell of unwashed men, some of which were unmistakably demon, and spirits, vodka maybe. There was also a faint chemical smell that reminded him of the heavy duty painkillers his friend Sango had been given when she’d broken her foot-- some kind of medication maybe.
A girl was stretched out on her stomach, where she’d apparently managed to pull herself out of the water and onto the sandy bank. She wore a pair of blue jeans that were half shredded and a blood stained, gray, ribbed tank top. He pulled himself out of the water and knelt next to her, unperturbed by his own lack of clothing. He wasn’t shy; and anyway, she was unconscious-- her breath coming slow and shallow.
After a moment of concentration he could hear her heart beating steadily, if perhaps a bit slower than was healthy. When he pulled her shoulder to turn her over the skin was chilly to the touch, and her mouth had turned a pale lavender color-- with the exception of a swollen cut on her bottom lip. It looked as though someone had hit her in the face more than once.
She looked as if she couldn’t be more than twenty two years old at the outside, probably younger-- he guessed around eighteen. He felt her pulse for a moment with the tips of his fingers and frowned. She was definitely hypothermic and he wondered how long she’d been in the water. It had been chilly the last few days and the water was still much too cold for your average human.
Blood was seeping from a gash across her left side and from another long cut down her right leg. There were at least a dozen other cuts and scrapes, as well as marks both new and old. Her right cheek was cut and shadowed by bruises as much as two weeks old by their brown and yellow hues. A ring of mottled bruising adorned her neck like a morbid collar. Carefully he peeled her wet shirt up a little to inspect the wound on her side and saw more bruises, black and dark purple, all along her middle, as if someone had kicked her repeatedly. He swore under his breath; it would be a miracle if she didn’t have any broken ribs. He couldn’t smell any internal damage, but he couldn’t be sure.
Dirt caked her wet skin where she’d pulled herself to the river bank, and her mess of long, dark hair was full of it as well. Now that he was focusing on more than just her wounds, it hit him that this woman was beautiful, despite the condition she was in. Something about him seemed to snap to attention when he looked at her, as if he should know her from somewhere important. He could figure that out later. Right now, he had to get her warmed up and cleaned up, or she might die.
After a quick inspection to ensure there were, in fact, no shattered ribs to puncture a lung, he pulled the girl into his arms. He moved her very carefully as he slipped back into the water. She was very light-weight, almost to the point of looking a little malnourished. She showed the first sign of life when her skin met with the chilly river again. Seizing weakly, she murmured an incoherent, pained protest, but her eyes never opened.
He made it to the other side of the river and gathered her close on the run down the bank to the place where he’d left his clothing. Setting her in the new grass, he dressed quickly. When that was done, he resigned himself to the fact that there was no safe way to carry her on his bike. He’d have to come back for the motorcycle later. Pulling her into his arms again, he set off at a run, moving as carefully as he could with her damaged body. It was a good thing he still ran long distances regularly for the fun of it. Some demons let those strengths wane in this age of industrial transportation.
For over an hour he ran, pausing periodically for a momentary breather. Finally he reached the town of Arcata, where he and about half of his pack lived. He was grateful no one passed him in the apartment building’s lobby or in the hall elevator. He wasn’t certain he could explain this away without someone reporting him to the police. After he laid her on the couch, he made sure the door was locked and then went to dig out some first aid supplies.
The young woman had begun to shiver violently by the time he came back. He looked away a little uncomfortably as he stripped her of the damp, filthy clothing, leaving her panties and sports bra intact. His friend Sango’s voice yelled at him in his head about manners and decency the whole time. As quickly as he could, he cleaned and bandaged her more serious cuts, relived to see they weren’t quite as bad as they’d first looked. The cut that stretched almost from her knee to her ankle was the only open wound in bad enough condition to worry about. He spent a brief minute toweling what dirt he could out of her hair and checking to make sure there were no other head injuries he might have missed. Her long hair was thick and soft, even bedraggled from her trip down the river. There were a few bumps he could feel with the pads of his fingers, but nothing major.
Inuyasha worked a large gray t-shirt over her head and slid a pair of flannel pajama pants over her long legs before he carried her to the extra bedroom across from his own. Once there, he covered her in a thick comforter. She still shook with cold and after a brief moment of consideration, he toed his boots off. Pulling the blanket over them both, he sat with his back against the headboard and situated her in his lap.
For a while he just held her that way, watching with relief as she stopped shivering, her teeth stopped chattering, and some color gradually returned to her face. It worried him that through this entire process she hadn’t woken once. After an hour, she began to curl into his arms, responding to his body heat, and he relaxed a little.
A further hour-and-a-half later he woke from a light doze. Golden eyes opened when he heard his front door open and close. He listened, on alert until he recognized the footsteps, and then the scent of the friend he’d been riding with that afternoon. There came a hesitant knock on the closed door of the second bedroom. Frowning, Inuyasha got up, gently sliding the girl from his lap onto the bed, where she promptly curled into the pillows with a small sigh. Soundlessly, he opened the door. Miroku stood in the hallway; his expression confused as he looked past his friend and saw the girl wrapped up in the bed.
“Inuyasha… what-”
Inuyasha cut him off with a look, bringing a finger to his lips and gesturing back down the hall to the living room. Miroku’s brows flew up, clearly asking for more information. Inuyasha glanced back over his shoulder at the girl before pulling the door shut and leading his friend away.
The curiosity on Miroku’s face was clear, but he followed. When they got to the kitchen, Inuyasha pulled out two bottles of beer and threw one to Miroku, who caught it and leaned against the counter, brows lowering in a slight frown. “So who’s that? What bastard did that to her face?”
Inuyasha stared at him for a moment before he took a sip of his beer and said simply, “I don’t know.”
Miroku looked at him a little incredulously and Inuyasha explained. “I went swimming after you headed back and I found her on the side of the river, half drowned and frozen. She’s beat up all to hell-- and not just in the way the north fork of the river would do. I couldn’t just leave her there.”
Miroku pondered this for a moment before asking cautiously, “shouldn’t she be in the hospital then?” Inuyasha realized at once that this would have been the logical thing to do. Anyone else would have called the police or dropped her off at an emergency room. Neither of these thoughts had even occurred to him. He shrugged well-muscled shoulders. “I didn’t really think about it. I knew I had the supplies to deal with it. Gods know we wind up doctoring people ourselves here often enough.”
Miroku frowned. “Still, it’s not like you to bring home strangers, even so.”
There was a loud knock at the front door. Inuyasha pulled it open to see his older brother Sesshomaru, and his friend and business partner, a lion demon named Gabriel, whose arms were full of soda, beer and pizza. They pushed their way in and saw Miroku’s perplexed face. Gabriel laughed. “What’s the matter houshi? Did your chick finally hit you too hard and cause some brain damage?”
Miroku shook his head, feigning mild outrage. “How could you say such a thing about lady Sango?”
“Probably because she’d do it, and you’d probably deserve it,” the man responded, dumping his armload across the counter. Swiping the remote from the counter, he flipped on the television. “Hey, what channel is the game coming on?”
“32, but keep the sound low.” Inuyasha said as he pulled out a slice of pepperoni. Sesshomaru gave him an odd look and Miroku jumped in all too happily. “He probably doesn’t want you to wake up the woman he fished out of the Klamath this afternoon.”
Immediately the other two looked at him with full attention. Inuyasha sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the random act of kindness sort. Miroku already gave me that speech.”
Gabriel looked confused. “Well... unless it’s a kid… yeah, pretty much.”
Sesshomaru added his own, more direct inquiry. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Inuyasha said. “There was no ID on her. I want to let her sleep for a bit. She’s pretty roughed up.”
“Any idea what happened?” Miroku asked, dropping down in one of the arm chairs.
Inuyasha shook his head. “No. Some of her injuries could have come from a trip down the rough part of the river, but some of the bruises and at least one of the open wounds were probably a few days old. Someone wailed on her pretty good, I think. I smelled at least three men, some kind of drugs, and vodka on her, even after she’d been in the water.”
Sesshomaru’s nostrils flared a little as he collected scent information, then commented thoughtfully, “she is human.”
***
When she opened her eyes, Kagome was aware of one thing: the worst headache she’d ever had. It felt like someone was pulling a ratchet strap tight around her skull. She tried to ignore it, looking around her with eyes that felt as if they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper. The full size bed she was in sat against the wall in a small room. To the left was a window with closed blinds, and to the right was a beat up wooden dresser. Next to the dresser was a closed door and next to her was a night stand with a small lamp. The room was dim, as if the sun was either in the process of going down or coming up; she couldn’t be sure which.
‘Oh Gods, what now?’ she thought.
She frowned and took stock of herself, trying to remember what had happened. Her mouth was dry as cotton and everything hurt like she’d been tossed in a washing machine set on the spin cycle. She moved her arms painfully, aware of every scratch and bruise. With surprise, she found she was completely free to move for the first time in more than… she wasn’t sure, two weeks? Three? Neither her arms, nor legs were bound in any way. She didn’t recognize this place. It didn’t feel like Narakue’s property. It was warm and comfortable, if plainly furnished.
There are demon energies, but the place doesn’t feel the same…’ she pondered.
That was really all she could find out with her miko powers before the energy it took from her very small reserve made her vision blur. She focused, trying to pull herself together, or at least stay conscious. She had to fight for it. The thought of sinking back into the black was appealing on a number of levels.
Slowly, she opened her eyes again, blinking to clear her sight. She forced herself to her feet, biting the neck of her shirt against aches and pains galore. She had to get out of here. Just because the place was comfortable didn’t mean it was safe. She was sure there were plenty of Narakue’s men she’d never met. Looking down, she realized with some discomfort that she was wearing someone else’s clothes, someone much bigger than herself-- someone definitely male. For a moment, she had considered the faint, musky smell attached to the t-shirt she wore. It was almost pleasant, like growing things and sandalwood.
She chided herself for the momentary lapse of focus and hobbled to the door. She listened with her ear pressed against the wood. Sounds drifted from a television, men talking; one of them was laughing. She could hear water running and the sounds of someone maybe doing dishes or cooking. At the thought of food her stomach registered a ferocious growl. Something that sounded like sports commentary was barely audible, and there was a hum as the furnace kicked on.
She swallowed hard and slowly turned the handle. Letting the door open silently, she poked her head out and looked around. She was in a hallway with four other doors, all closed. After about twelve feet, the wood planked hallway opened up to a high-ceilinged living room. She could see the corner of a counter top that made her think there was a kitchen just to the left. Three men sat in front of a large television where a baseball game filled the screen.
Quietly she crept into the hall. She just didn’t have enough information to make any kind of plan. Pulling on her deepest reserves, she expanded her senses again and found there was another man in the kitchen. He and two of the men in the living room were demon, while the last man was human. The space she was in wasn’t big, an apartment maybe. Then she met the end of her energy and her breath caught in her chest; her vision began to blur and spot. The muscles that were barely holding her up started to fail and the world tilted around her.