InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Two Princes ❯ Nightmares ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

One could never get used to routine when one wasn't used to what was considered normal routine. Which was truth in words. Of course, that was about all that the final battle had left her. With Naraku's defeat came hudreds of pros, and cons that only seemed to apply to Kagome herself. She would be gone, and certainly missing from the group, but wasn't that kind of a pro for them? Fanning her fingers as she propped her head on her home-made meta-carpal pillow, she absently studied the long fingernails and creases in her knuckles. Upon further inspection, she could find callouses from endless days of training and shooting up random trees with her purifying power in order to be completely self-assured she could draw and demolish her enemy in a second. The battle, now that it was thought on, had been about as gruesome as they'd expected. Kagome almost thought Sango might not make it through after learning Naraku had already killed Kohaku and was simply using the boy as a corpse puppet. If not for the rage she'd released after finding out, the last battle might not have been won.
And both Miroku's cursed hands helped win the battle. Before Sango's rescue was rudely interrupted by the crude declarations of the cursed hanyou and his vassals, he'd managed to get in a pretty thorough grope, which only served to spark her anger. Needless to say, it was over. Inuyasha had managed to get the jewel shards from Naraku, but she'd been faster. The hand she'd been studying clasped suddenly over something hovering outside her reach.
For as much as she loved Inuyasha.. She couldn't bear seeing him as a full demon. She'd outright denied him the Shikon-no-Tama and managed to hold her own as she fended the angry hanyou off to escape.
"No!" She cried out, stumbling her way through the forest like the klutz she routinely was. Kagome could hear him now, advancing on her. Branches snapped, birds took flight as the bloodlust broke through the clearing with her. Not even turning to acknowledge his presence she hopped over the well's lip, adrenaline flooding her.
Dirt met her feet, and she'd nearly passed out in relief, but she'd still been wary that he would jump in after her. It hadn't taken her long to convince grandpa to take the jewel and hide it carefully under layer after layer of powerful sutras. And after that, she sat in the corner of the shrine she'd hidden the jewel at, waiting, watching. According to her family, she hadn't moved for two days, waiting for him to come and claim what was rightfully his, before they finally dragged her kicking and screaming from the corner. Kagome had kept the jewel, hidden it away somewhere that nobody would ever find it again. Of that she was assured.
Putting a hand over her throbbing heart, pushing down the pain of losing so much so long ago, she propped her elbow-turned-pillow up beneath her and planted her feet on the floor. Now she was a storyteller. It wasn't that she was proud of the way she wrote, or even that she wrote well! She simply had a story to tell, and was gifted by some cruel God of fate to write semi-decent. Enough to tell the tale and have people smitten with it. Going to the window of her newly rented appartment, she gazed longingly out the window as rain poured over the ground.
"I'm happy, you guys. I wish you could see what your stories mean to the people here." She chuckled, moving from the window and letting the lace curtain fall to the side. Four years of succesful writing, editting, and even artwork had lead to her own appartment as well as thoroughly devoted fans and rumors of an anime coming out to honor her work. It was all exciting to her best friend and editor, Mita, whom was reaping just as many benefits as she was from the popular series, Inuyasha.
Kagome took her time getting into the shower, rinsing off the evening sweat and dressing. Her latest deadline had been met early, so she was in no rush to get to the meeting that Mita insisted she go to. As it were, her stories had intrigued Rumiko Takahashi into re-creating the group and story in a manga. Today she would be seeing premliminary drawings as well as rough sketches for the new characters. She pulled a dark red sweatshirt over her head before pulling a pair of dark blue jeans over her hips. Kagome ran a towel through her hair, combing her fingers through the unruly locks of black hair with a sigh as she examined her appearance carefully, applying a bit of chapstick to her lips before nodding with a small smile.
"Lets go!" She huffed, snatching up the bag containing a small laptop that she would need for notes and such.

The young Lord looked over his domain once again, completely bereft at how low humanity had taken the beautiful forests of Japan and thrown them in the local dumps. Well, young was just a matter of who knew who, for Sesshoumaru was well over one-thousand years old. His neighbor rather liked him, an old human woman of 78 years old and stubborn as his own mother. She, not being a youkai, believed him to be mid-twenties, which he had decided to go with as a cover for his true age. He didn't think people would believe him if he said he was exactly one-thousand, two hundred and fifty some-odd years old. One loses count after so long.
Humanity had taken the reigns, and demons had gone into hiding. As the new, inventive weapons humans were creating to destroy said beings, Sesshoumaru had quietly joined a mass of them as he sank into the backgrounds of change. He hadn't done so without first taking out a majority of those that had challenged him and his authority over the western lands he felt so protective of. In removing naturual threats to the growth of healthy community where he lived, his presence was the curse that people put on living in Western Japan. Now he wasn't more than a supersticion, but he wasn't above killing the occasional ant of a human that made his dwelling uncomfortable.
As it were, he rather enjoyed his roof-top complex, filling it with natural plants growing in fertile soil to make a mini haven for himself when he wasn't out patrolling the city streets. Said demon was currently in said mini haven, enjoying the cool scent of rain as he leaned on the door post of the appartment complex he owned.
"Yoo hoo! Sesshoumaru-sama!"
His shortened, humanified ear twitched at the old biddy's voice. Turning and heading down the stairs of the rooftop garden he'd cultivated, he went to the next floor where he found Miho Suzuki, the little old woman, standing with a small wicker basket in her hands.
"Just wanted to leave you with the usual. I know how you prefer the salty taste in whatever you eat." She said with a crass, knowing smile. The old baracuda of a woman thrust the basket in his direction. "Kettle corn for you. I'm sure you'll like this batch."
Sesshoumaru's face was carefully blank, but for her sake, he raised an eyebrow as he brought the basket to his nose and sniffed carefully. Old habits die hard, but the old woman seemed to have no qualms of his sniff test. The odor it was emitting was far from unappetizing. In fact, the curious sweet and salty scent made his saliva thicken with anticipation of eating Miho's newest creation.
"You haven't any need to make me these, Miss Suzuki." he said, his unwavering baritone came, eyeing the old woman with what could almost be affection as the old woman batted his arm playfully.
"I can't have my landlord becoming thin from his inability to cook." She teased him. Once. Only once had he tried to cook anything with the old woman, and he'd nearly burned the complex down around his ears. If it hadn't been for his demonic senses and strength, that would have been what happened without doubt.
"Thank you, Suzuki-san. Your efforts in retaining this Sesshoumaru's health are well appreciated."
The old woman giggled, oddly enough, and waved goodbye as she headed for the elevator located just around the corner. The Dog-Demon watched her leave with a calculated golden gaze, which flicked down to the covered basket he was holding. Pushing aside the towels that obscured the prize, he found golden treasure. Popcorn. Sesshoumaru blinked at it before picking up a small morsel and studying it carefully. A delicious scent was there. Why was it that the small peice of corn didn't appeal to his visual senses?
Without further hesitation, he popped the piece into his mouth and chewed slowly, thoughtfully, then swallowed. He again quietly looked over the small bunch he'd been given and let a smile haunt his features, heading for the stairs of the enormous complex as he popped another few peices in.
It was the beginning of a good day, of that Sesshoumaru was sure.

Just in time! The train was just about to leave for the afternoon, and it hadn't cleared up any. The meeting with Rumiko Takahashi and Mita Ryu, as well as some of the editors for the manga and the books. They were well pleased with the chapter she'd done before hand, one of the many stories of demon slaying she'd collected, and the design of book four's characters were spot on. Rumiko had done her homework, Kagome had noted. She was well pleased with Takahashi's sketches, and almost broke out into tears upon seeing Sango and Miroku's character designs. It was like Rumiko was right there with her when she first met Sango, staring into the determined brown eyes. She squeezed onto the train as she unburied herself from her thoughts and seated herself across from another woman. Then she did a double-take.
Day by day, it was all Kagome could do not to stare at some of the... Humans... That passed by. This was what the world would never see, she figured. When she'd first begun spotting demons in a crowd, she had to stop someone and ask them if they saw the green head sticking out among brown and black. All the time, people would just look at her like she was nuts and walk on. Once, she been in an elevator with such a character, having the facial markings as well as the hair. It seemed to notice her staring and grew rather uncomfortable, shooting a well aimed glare in her direction before looking away again and bolting out of the elevator.
She was now trying not to let her shifty gaze be caught lingering too long on a dark haired woman that seemed normal upon first glances, but had enormous red pupils and irises with matching coloured slashes on the lids of her eyes. Sitting just across from her on the bus was a bit unnerving, and Kagome had always wondered if they could feel her old preistess powers like the demons of the Feudal Era. The train lurched and tore her gaze away from the woman, bringing her thoughts back on the next chapter of Inuyasha that was due. Perhaps she would write a few more chapters, and then take a vacation. Her self-imposed hell of memories brought shame and guilt. Tapping a finger against her lip, she wondered where she would even vacation.
Kagome glanced back up at the woman again and found her staring in Kagome's direction. Now she was unable to look away, as the woman's eyes captivated her. There was something wrong with the way she looked...
Watch out!
Kagome didn't even have a chance to scream when the glass shattered, a scream going up that chilled her to the bone, and sudden force throwing her towards the demon she'd been looking on. Her breath was yanked from her as she hit the demon girl with enough force to completely shatter any other normal woman's every bone.

He could hear the sound. It was like a thousand banshees screaming in agony through the night. The sound was nails on a chalkboard to his sensitive ears. It wasn't quite that that drew him to it. He wasn't a vigilante for justice, like so many ridiculous American comics portrayed, but there was a flash of two conflicting aura smashing into one another. The combined difference of their power was enough to draw any curious powerful youkai. When he arrived at the wreckage, the stench of human blood hit his nose first. Crying humans could be heard from the mangled form of the train that had been derailed. Smoke, blood, and salt combined made his gut twist as he perused the scene. Jumping down from the building he was standing on, he came close to it.
"Hello!" He called. Carefully, he weaved around the wreckage, walking gracefully over the torn metal of the cars. "Hello! Is anyone in there?"
It was eerily silent, and with the scent of blood wafting through the air, Sesshoumaru didn't doubt that it was very possible there weren't any survivors. The wind shifted, ruffling his carefully tied back hair and carrying another scent in it's wake. He turned his head toward the prickle of demon blood that was hiding among the human blood and honed in on its location. Soft groans met his ears.
"Hello?" He repeated.
"nnnnggg... please.."
Sesshoumaru found the broken windows of the train and leaned over them to find the woman resposible. The blood flared, and there was one heartbeat... for the two women that were lying in the wreckage. The demoness was pinned beneath a human girl who had taken the full brunt of the broken glass. It seemed that the bar went through the human and into the demon's shoulder, not much more than a flesh wound for a demon, but the wound was fatal for the human girl.
"Help her, please.." The demoness whimpered. "Her blood... stings..."
Sesshoumaru looked back at the girl, and took the pipe in one hand. It made a sickly squelch as he yanked it out, drawing a cry of pain from the demoness.
"Get the preistess off!" She screamed. "She burns!"
Sesshoumaru quickly picked the human up from the demoness, only to be completely shocked at his finding. Staring up at him was the lifeless face of Kagome Higurashi, writer of the series Inuyasha and Shikon no Tama guardian. Power pulsed off her in waves despite the obvious grip of death on her. Instinct motivated Sesshoumaru to quickly get her back to Tenseiga and revive her. Using all of his demonic power he morphed into his spirit ball, breaking through one of the windows of his complex and allowing the mist to pour into his luxurious top suite. He gently lay the broken body across his crisp white sheets, permanently staining them with blood. He would take care of them later. His hands worked on their own accord, slicing through the red sweater with ease. The bra she wore was stained red with blood, but not in the way, so he stripped the body of the sweater. Moving swiftly across the room, he went into his study and reached for the sword resting in the sanded wooden showing case nailed above his desk on the wall. It pulsed in his hand, knowing it's master's call. Sesshoumaru stood above the dead girl's body, ready to be rid of the monster surrounding her soul but stopped. A faint glimmer through her blood caught his eye. Reaching over towards the hole in her chest, he felt the simmer of purifying power. His demon blood boiled, and beat a little faster as his claws tore a little more into the open chest cavity, where her heart was. It singed, and stung like a hive of bees stinging his fingers at once, but he ignored the pain and felt around the flesh for the glimmer he'd seen. After a moment of searching through muscle and bone, his fingers fell upon something smoothe and hard. He dug the claws of his middle, fore-finger, and thumb around the object and pulled it out.
After he grasped the foriegn object, he swung the sword and demolished the imps around her body, restoring her health to her. The wounds stopped bleeding and knit themselves together, working with her miko powers. The girl's body took a shaky breath in, hissing in pain as it began to live again. Her heartbeat had returned, her breathing was unstable but working. He placed the two items in his hand on the the closest nightstand and went to the curtains, pulling them closed lest one of his pervertted neighbors peek in to watch him.
Now he was required to remove the stench of human blood, which he knew would take hot water and a small fire. He would give the girl a sponge bath, and burn the bloodied clothing in the bathroom. It would be easier to dispose of ashes.
Such a burden... Why have I done this again?
That was another thing to think about. He would need a viable excuse for having her awake in one of his shirts. In his bed.
What a bother...
As for the power pulsing in his hand, he knew it the moment he saw the pink tinge to the small orb he'd pulled out of her chest cavity. It was the object of his brother's wrath, that which he'd haunted the Bone Eater's well like a madman.
The Shikon-no-Tama rested in his palm, radiating the power Inuyasha had covetted until his death. He put on the desk of his study the Shikon Jewel and Tenseiga and left them to keep one another company as he went about doing the tasks he'd set. Another thing. He would have to explain his presence, and she would have to explain hers.
Such a troublesome crime I've committed against fate.

Sesshoumaru now knew the meaning of trouble. It came in the form of an unconscious five hundred and seventy-three year old preistess from his past. Having started a fire in the bathroom wasn't the wisest of all moves, but the bloody clothing was gone. There would be no salvaging it and he had no want of the scent in his home after he'd changed the sheets to his bed and burned them along with the miko's clothing. As for clothing the miko... The best he could do was take one of his crisp white dress shirts and slip it over her arms, button the middle button and leave it at that while she slept. It had been awkward enough running a warm, wet towel over the crusted blood on her chest as she slept and mumbled almost obscene comments.
As of the current, he was resting in his sitting room that shared his bedroom toying with the glasses that he wore commonly out in public. Not that he needed them. Just another part of his human disguise. He refused to hide his silver hair, and didn't make any excuse for having it. They could call him albino for all he cared. And it didn't mather whether or not he had the same colour hair the elderly, it didn't seem to deter the number of times young women gazed lustily at him. Curse his infernal nose for being so sensitive to such things. In this era, it was impossible not to scent it wherever he tended to be.
As he fiddled with the glasses, he listened to the unconscious miko's heartbeat and breathing. Since he'd brought her back, she'd been stable, but hadn't broken out of her coma like the others he'd brought back with the sword, and was going on her second day of sleep. Most of them simply snapped out of their death state like they'd been slapped. The miko was a new case. Perhaps she was holding onto death for reasons personal to her, and uknown to him. He took a silver strand of his hair and brought the tip up for his inspection. If she didn't return to wakefulness soon, old Lady Suzuki was bound to come knocking at his door. Explaining the blood still visible through the thin cotton of his shirt would be difficult enough, and explaining to the preistess why he'd removed it and even what she was doing here would be just as hard. Sesshoumaru tossed the glasses on the floor and flicked the strand of hair away as he leaned back in the chair he sat in, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It would be easier to just drop the girl off at a hospital and taken flight. He should while she was still asleep.

There he was. Standing on a bright red bridge crossing a stream, his silver white hair and dog ears perked, he was a welcome vision. Kagome wanted to move, to call out to him, but she couldn't. Her feet were frozen in place, her voice wouldn't work. She prayed he looked her way, but he seemed too distracted with the tulip blossoms reaching out over the bridge. One striped wrist reached for a tulip, cupping it delicately in clawed hands..
Striped? Kagome looked again. His wrists were striped, markings of full demons. When? She tried to call him and heard nothing. Move... Move! She commanded herself.
'Inuyasha....'

She pulled in a desperate breath and snapped into wakefulness, trying to stop the flood of tears that suddenly began to pour over her face. It was only a dream. Just a dream. Kagome took in deep sobbing breaths and willed the tears away, wiping them away fervently as she clenched her knuckles and pressed them into her eyes. When she'd collected herself, she took another pull of air and breathed out slow. She had to hear it.
"It was just a dream.." She heard herself say. Her eyes found the cuffs of a very expensive white shirt that was draped around her, barely covering her modesty. She also found she was in a very foreign bed, not uncomfortable, but just.. Unusual.
Slipping her feet off the bed and carefully onto a lusciously soft white carpet, she rubbed her forefinger along her eye to remove the sleep from them as she gazed around the room. It was empty. There was no soul in this room, simply the bare essentionals. As big as it was, you'd think it'd be filled to the brim with accessories, but no: a large black metal framed bed with crisp white sheets still mussed from her sleep with small one drawer nightstands and a lamp on her right, a sleek black desk with minimal desk drawers, a matching black glass cup for pens, and a black lamp tucked by a wall, which was painted with simple white paint.
She stood slowly, her muscles stiff as she maneuvered toward the long curtain hung on the left wall and nearly gasped upon finding it wasn't a wall; it was a window with a ceiling to floor veiw. The sky was gray, the morning misty and dull as most shadowy winter days were since she'd come back from the feudal era.
The question still remained, despite her careful observation of the room: Where am I?
Kagome started at the sound of someone clearing their throat, her head snapping to attention at the sound. It was about that moment that her heart beat a little faster, her stomach sank, and she prayed she was blind or simply imagining things.
"Sesshoumaru?"
Was it just her that felt she sounded utterly pathetic?
"Higurashi. This Sesshoumaru would feel more comfortable if you not pass out." He said, his head tilted in her general direction from the hall he'd appeared noiselessly from. "You were injured. This Sesshoumaru brought you here that you might be healed."
Kagome stared at him, still feeling a bit queasy. It was like looking at a ghost, or seeing someone pop up from the grave.
"I-I don't understand. Why was I brought here? What happened?"

Glass shattered, the metal wheels shrieking and the frame squealing in protest as she was flung forward towards the demoness across from her. Though she was still pretty banged up from the initial flinging, it was another scream of metal that did her in. A bar from behind her had been snapped off from the force of the train's derailing, and Kagome felt fire spread through her chest.

"The train..."
"Correct. This Sesshoumaru was in the vicinity, and does not know what came over him that he should save you, of all creatures." He commented offhandedly.
Kagome threw the Demon Lord a glare befitting her old nature but didn't utter a word against him.
"I died, didn't I?" She asked quietly, after a moment of carefully thought out silence. She didn't look up from her fidgetting fingers to see his most-likely expressionless face.
"You did." He answered tonelessly. Now she looked up at him, hate pouring over her tearing eyes.
"Why didn't you just let me die?" She demanded coldly, struggling with the salty warm liquid that wanted to spill down over her cheeks.

Sesshoumaru looked over the creature sitting on his bed with one of the most unusual feelings he'd felt since the day he'd given up his swords and begun to walk without them: Pity.
"Should this Sesshoumaru have known what you'd wanted, he would have left you there and saved the demoness instead." He retorted quietly. The scent of salt was in the air, like a stale ocean breeze on a muggy morning. There were no words he could say, no comforting thoughts he could part ways with her on.
"Your clothing is non-exhistent. I had to burn it."
Higurashi said nothing, only continuing her wallow in self-pity.
"This Sesshoumaru will be back within a few moments. Please refrain from leaving the suite until I return."
Her gaze finally fell on him, a spark of the old firey miko he'd seen once on the battle field when he'd had the pleasure of sharing it with his half-brother.
"What makes you think you can keep me here?"
Higurashi sounded almost defiant. It brought back old memories... Those that were more enjoyable.
"Your lack of clothing, Higurashi-san."
A bright red color filled her palid cheeks as she huffed and worked her mouth like a fish.
"While your immitation of the koi is amusing, this Sesshoumaru has things to do. If you'll excuse me." He said, turning on his heel and stalking towards the door. The glasses he'd been fiddling with were in his white cotton shirt's breast pocket. He headed down the hall, past the kitchen on the left and opened the door on the right to pull out an umbrella. Sesshoumaru hesitated with the glasses for a moment, turning them as he blankly studied the two pieces of glass on the carefully sculpted black frames. It was a sign of humanity, him wearing such contraptions. Oh how the mighty had fallen, oh how Inu-Taishou would have laughed to see his son reduced to such lengths of preservation. The pads of his fingers ached to crush them, grind the glass up into dust, and sprinkle it over the heights of the city in rebellion.
Instead, he pushed away his irritation and pulled the door open as he placed the glasses upon the bridge of his nose.
"Sesshoumaru-sama, I thought I might bring you a chicken-bean soup!" Old Lady Suzuki said, her beaming face appearing in his doorway. The old lady was holding a relatively large pot, particularly for one person to eat, dressed in an old kimono he'd complimented her on the one time she'd worn it for the cherry-blossom viewing. A muscle in his jaw jerked at her inconvenient timing.
"My apologies, Suzuki-san, but now is not-"
"I even brought my finest china to serve you, Sesshoumaru-sama, the least you could let me do is lcome in." She argued, squeezing past his broad form and heading into the kitchen. Instead of following his protests, she'd welcomed herself.
"Sesshoumaru, I -" Kagome started, her footsteps padding down the hall towards the kitchen where she stopped and stared at the old woman, who, in turn, stare right back. A blush began to rise on both of their faces.
"Well had I know Sesshoumaru-sama was expecting guests, I would've made more for the two of you!" Old lady Suzuki said, hiding her embaressment at catching the young, shirt clothed woman in his appartment. Oh how Father was laughing now. He swore to the heavens that the moment he arrived and met his father, whom would be unabashadly rolling on the floor with laughter, he would send him straight to hell.
"Very well, Suzuki-san. If you insist upon waiting on me, please feed myself and my guest. I will be back in a few moments." He said, excusing himself from further awkward conversation.
No doubt her scent would pop up somewhere in this disaster of a city.

Kagome stood there for the longest time in the hallway, dressed in nothing less than Sesshoumaru's white dress shirt that was three sizes too big. Suzuki-san seemed to be minutely uncomfortable as well, as she worked the kitchen as though she owned it. After a few more awkward moments, she decided that she would attempt to explain herself.
"Its not what you think..?"
That sounded convincing.
The elderly woman had on a traditional Fuedal era kimono, pastel green on with creme underrobes and a duller orange obi. It was a lovely, soothing colour coordination for a kimono, most likely recently made by a custom kimono maker, Kagome deduced. The woman had also pulled her silver hair up in a comfortable, but very traditional style for Old Japan.
"And what do I think, young woman?" The old lady said quickly, still fussing with the china she'd brought. "Lucky I'd brought a spare plate.. That poor boy always manages to break my dishwear..."
Finally the old woman brought her hazel brown eyes to Kagome's.
"I would think that whatever I would think in the situation is irrelevant, shouldn't you? Am I to pass judgement on a young man and woman in love?"
Kagome's eyes widened with doe-eyed panic.
"N-no you see, thats the thing! We aren't like that!" She exclaimed, and upon the outburst, immeadiately regretted it. If the old woman had things put together a certain way now.. Kagome sighed with helpless frustration.
"Once again, what I think is quite irrelevant. Even if one were to think what I'm sure your thinking now after your thoughtless words, Sesshoumaru-sama isn't like that." She said with an air of finality as she laid out her cookware on the appartment's up-to-date stovetops. She shuffled around the kitchen like she owned it, like it was she that lived here and not Sesshoumaru.
But what she said about him, rather than what the old woman was doing was what stuck with Kagome.
"..Sesshoumaru-sama isn't like that..."
She'd said it out of knowledge of his character, out of who he was. The demon that Kagome had written about seemed like a complete one-eighty to this... Human. Kagome leaned against the wall that lead into the kitchen and watched Old Woman Suzuki go about herself, setting plates out and carefully laying two sets of chopsticks out.
"Can I help you with anything?" She finally asked, walking over to the older woman. Suzuki look up with kind brown eyes.
"Here now..."

Sesshoumaru had a little bit of an idea what Kagome's size was, seeing as she'd been the latest mention in an informative Tokyo pop-culture magazine. Her books were booming with popularity, and mentions of manga and movies, as well as an anime to accompany it were growing wildly in dozens of magazines. At one time, Sesshoumaru had picked up the magazine, seen the face of the wench that Inuyasha had carried all over the place with him, and almost gone crazy. How? When had she? Why? What caused her to come here? What was she doing here? So many questions, one right after the other. He'd been sorely tempted to find her out and interogate her, see what the magic was behind the spell that had kept her young for the five hundred years after he'd seen her. At one time, he'd been so obsessed with finding out how she'd gotten here, he'd had his connections give him Higurashi's full schedule of book tours. Silently, he'd watched in the background as she discussed his history with dozens of young women and men, curious to find out what would happen next before she was ready to give them her next sequel.
He strolled down the street as he reminisced over his first human impulse: obsession. It had dissipated after a time, about two years to be more precise, and now he had the object of his previous desires, dressed in naught more than his dress shirt and cotton underwear. Sesshoumaru scowled distastefully as he thought of becoming obsessed with a human woman, even in platonic ways. Just thinking about becoming as enthralled with the women these days as his father had made his stomach coil in disgust. He didn't walk to far before he gave up the search for her house and stopped at a clothing store to pick out something for her to wear. The moment he walked through the doors, he knew he'd have problems. The womens section was enormous, filled with jeans that looked alike but sold for two-hundred dollars apiece, give or take depending on the brand. Shirt after shirt was lined up on the racks, and he hadn't any idea what she'd liked.
Sesshoumaru's brow raised. Where had that line come from? He waded into the misery of human clothing in search of something for Kagome, not caring what he would pick out. A white tee-shirt and white washed jeans, the same size as the magazine had stated from Kagome's article two years ago. He looked across the way at the women's lingerie and shuddered. No. Absolutely not.
But of course, he'd burned her bra. She would need one if she were going to wear a white shirt. He started towards the department then stopped. He hadn't the slightest clue what size she was, despite the lecherous suggestions in many of the popular Male magazines. He was about to turn and head for the cash register, but hesitated. Then he rethough again, only to be faced with the same conflict. He had burned her clothes. They would need replaced. The dilemma continued for about ten minutes before the young woman at the cash register came towards him and smiled expectantly.
"Having problems?" She asked, her head nodding towards the lingere.
"No." He answered blandly.
"Looking for your girlfriend?" She asked. "I'll help you out if you need it."
The young woman was insistant.
"No, she isn't my female. I'm simply looking for Kagome, I seemed to have.." Sesshoumaru paused before completing the sentence. "She simply needs a new bra."
The girl nodded and guided him into the women's section.
"Nothing expensive, just a temporary replacement."
The girls cheeks seemed to heat, and her body temperature went up. Sesshoumaru sighed internally. He'd embarassed her. Why is it that humans always think with their minds in the gutter?
"O-okay. Alright, so just look really fast and see if you can see her size here."
Humiliating, was about the only word that he could conjure up for the description of the moment about now. He hadn't exactly been studying Kagome's cup size when he'd laid her on his bed as she bled to death. But when he burned the bra, he remembered the numbers that were smeared with blood on the back of her ruined undergarment.
"Higurashi-san wears a 26 A. This means?..." He inquired, looking back at the girl. To his interest, the girl had blinked at him.
"Kagome Higurashi, as in, the Writer, Higurashi?" She asked. Sesshoumaru snorted with impatience.
"The size, wench." He growled. The girl was still looking at him in astonishment, but managed to find a generic white bra with the numbers matching the old one. The girl was quiet for the rest of the buying process, but he whiffed something affoot.
"My gratitude for you help." he said, leaving a hundred dollar bill on the counter as he turned and walked out the door.

Asaka on the other hand, had more interesting things to do. What else do you do when someone with such style and attractive attributes (coughbuttcough) comes in and starts buying clothes for Kagome Higurashi? She picked up the black phone on the desk of the cash register.
"Hi there, my name is Asaka Jiotabi! I think I have some pretty interesting news for your magazine..."

Sesshoumaru arrived at his appartment complex about ten minutes later. Rather than the elevator, he took the stairs with no apparent desire to rush into any more embarassing situations. At first, he contemplated what Kagome would think when he returned with a bra in the correct size, seeing as he was indeed male, and he had spent many years studying the ever exciting ways of humanity. Perhaps she would find it humorous. To be bluntly honest at best, she would merely slap him for his interesting observance. At worst, she would completely purify him, if her miko powers were still active. So in essence, he only lost his life.
A snort worked its way from his mouth. How was it that only 24 hours with the female and he was off, cavorting around the city on a mission? Higurashi made life... minutely... interesting. Of course, there was still Old Lady Suzuki in his appartment, presumably cooking dinner. Sesshoumaru topped the second floor's set of stairs, another four sets of stairs to go. Women. He would blame his bland life's sudden colourful change of heart on the appearance of the opposite sex. Father had warned him at one time to be cautious of this. A small voice in the back of his mind began to speak up. It almost seems that you ignored me, and are rewarded for your waned vigilance from years before.. Followed by an earily I-Told-You-So chuckle. So he couldn't avoid women! The world was full of them!
Human women, son. Human women.
Sesshoumaru had cleared the second of four shaking his head.
"If not for the fact a human shrink would be unable to diagnose several hundred years of family problems due to the fact demons rarely see psychiatrists for family issues, this Sesshoumaru should problably admit to being slightly... put out, today." He muttered in admittance, starting on the next flight of stairs.

Sesshoumaru opened his door and entered his kitchen to Kagome bent over his table in those white cotton panties and his dress shirt. He blinked at her for a moment, without change in expression, before a shudder went up his spine and he averted his gaze.
"Sesshoumaru-sama! Welcome!" The old woman said, announcing his presence before he managed to find his voice. He looked up again and found Kagome eyeing him warily. It would appear that five-hundred years of absence didn't wane her distrust of him. Figures, her writings tended to portray him as a snotty nosed Prince of Demons with a quick temper, fast sword, and very pretty hair.
"I have returned with spoils from the American inspired 'Banana Republic'." He tossed the bag onto his counter, brushing past both ladies and seating himself at the table. "You will change before rejoining this Sesshoumaru and Lady Suzuki."
He saw her profile stiffen momentarily before she went to claim the bag, rather roughly, before quietly padding out of the kitchen with dark clouds brewing overhead.
"Lord Sesshoumaru, I've prepared a hot pot with fresh sashimi and salted, dried kelp." Old Lady Suzuki said, looking quite pleased with herself. Sesshoumaru meagerly nodded his pleasure, the scent of cooked beef broth and a few greens mixed in with hearty chunks of meat teasing his appetite.

She hated it. That tone dripping with disdain and maddening cynisism just made her so.... Kagome fought not to simply hop with rage, fought not to let the irritated squeal pass her lips. Otherwise she'd walk into the dining room to that horrible ghost of a smirk he always used to have when he'd been proven that yes, he was intelligent at times.
Focus on something else...
She calmly rooted around in the bag through the paper the Republic usually wrapped their clothes in and drew out a pair of washed-out jeans and a white, long sleeved shirt made of flexible Egyptian cotton. All she really expected, of course, but wearing a white shirt without a bra would be a bit uncomfortable.
You've been through worse... Like that time Inuyasha tripped over your back pack and knocked all your spare tampons in the fire. That was hell...
And using the olden days' sheaths... Not fun. It was about as fun as wearing a biodegradable pad. When she rifled through the leftover papers in the bag for the receipt, hoping to pay him back for the clothes when she got home, she discovered that there was another piece of cloth laying in the bottom of the bag.
Drawing it out by one strap, she was horrified to find Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands in the Feudal Era and Lord of Terror, had gone and bought her a... very expensive looking bra. One glance of the size tag and her face flared red.
He'd even guessed her size right! Rage and embarassment washed through her, and yet she couldn't find it in her to complain that he'd given her something to cover her bosom a bit more modestly. So instead of stomping into that kitchen and giving him the pleasure of seeing her absolutely beside herself, she would simply do this:

Sesshoumaru,
Thank you for the clothing from the Republic, though I must say the bra wasn't really necessary. Good to know the male species didn't change after five-hundred years, you perverted bastard.

Higurashi Kagome

And while it was rather tempting to add a couple names to the list floating around her brain for the silver-haired dog demon, she would rather make her escape while her note was still fresh with anger as she signed her name at the bottom of the note furiously. She made no attempt to hide her departing, seeing as she took the blood spattered shoes from beside the bed where he'd meticulously lain them with her bag, threw them on, and padded noisily to the door. She flung the door open and slammed it behind her, sighing with relief at the elevator. Of course, she hadn't any want for more embarassing situations if she were called back while she were on the stairs. Old Lady Suzuki had given her plenty enough embarassment by walking into the appartment of Sesshoumaru and finding her in close to nothing.
Punching the first floor for the elevator, she slumped onto the savvy metal bar of the stylish silver elevator. A doctors appointment would be in order, as well as a really big cup of Starbucks Tokyo coffee. As soon as she found her phone buried somewhere in her lucky bag.

As soon as she'd managed to hail a cab, get home, and open her door after jamming the cursed lock that didn't like her key, she was exhausted. Spent, perhaps was a better word for it. She carefully laid out her computer on the small black retro couch she'd bought for her studio appartment, peeling off the garments Sesshoumaru had bought her, and sank into a feather filled mattress. The covers swallowed her presence hungrily, wrapping around her bare body like they would eat her alive. The best covers in the world, Mita had claimed, and she was right on.
Sesshoumaru...
It was about that moment that it hit her. Kagome slowly sat up with one very thick comforter covering her chest as it tightened like a panicking bird about to be swallowed whole by a cat.
Sesshoumaru is alive.. And here, in Tokyo.
She blinked once, and rethought the two sentences a few times before carefully lying back with her brows drawn close together in contemplative silence.
"Sesshoumaru.. Alive and in Tokyo.." She repeated to herself. As if hearing it would make her believe it anymore. For a moment, she wondered if she would break in half, but stopped herself.
"Alive. But... different. Maybe..."
She didn't have to say the second part out loud. A small part of her wondered as another part prayed he was like his brother this time. What if he'd survived the hundreds of years? And if he had, would he have.... Would he have at all changed, like his half-brother had?