Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Like Sakura Petals Falling... ❯ Resurfacing ( Chapter 1 )

Blanket Disclaimer: InuYasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, YuYu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi. Perverse bastardizations of both can be blamed on me.

"I feel just like a local god when I'm with the boys. We do what we want. Yeah, we do what we want." --'Local God' by Everclear

Chapter One (Resurfacing)

"I swear you guys I didn't do it!" Kuwabara all but shouted out his innocence. Beady sorrel eyes swept across the four faces of his friends and comrades gathered in the living room of his apartment. Whatever he saw in their expressions was not an encouraging sign.

Sure, you didn't," Yuusuke goaded mockingly, reclining farther into the plush sofa. Cockily, he cradled the back of his head in the palms of his hands. "They just magically appeared in your apartment." He jeered on mercilessly, gesturing vaguely to the box of six-week old kittens with an elbow. "I know! A big ole stork delivered them to your doorstep."

"Get real, Urameshi!" Kuwabara snapped peevishly at his former schoolyard rival. "I told you, I rescued them from some kids. He defended himself for the umpteenth time since they'd returned from Rei-kai, and utterly pointless meeting with Koenma. Kuwabara secretly wondered if the toddler had called them in just to cure his own boredom. What were the lives of a few mere mortals and youkai to the whims of a spoiled, power-tripping demi-god?

"Rescued them?" Kurama cut in, discreetly stifling a chuckle behind his loose fist.

"Yeah, the kids were torturing them." Kuwabara explained in an exaggeratedly patient tone. Were these guys caught in some weird mental loop, or something?

"Yeah, by beating the shit outta the little brats, no doubt." Yuusuke submitted against Kuwabara baitingly. "You'd think being a cop he'd know better, but I guess old habits die hard." The greasy-haired spirit detective laughed openly at his friend's expense, succeeding in instantly reigniting the carrot-headed behemoth's ire.

"I didn't beat anybody up!" Kuwabara shouted back explosively at the snickering punk on his couch.

"Of course not," Kurama injected once again calmly. "It would go as much against your honor code, as leaving the kittens to their alleged tormentors." He added entirely too solemnly for Kuwabara's tastes, as his expression held only good-natured mischief for the bewoed subject of the groups scrutiny.

"Hn."

"You gonna weigh in, huh? Shortie?" Kuwabara snapped taking the offensive on his latest opponent. They're all out to get me. I swear it! He thought pessimistically.

"Like I care what you do." The fire apparition dismissed haughtily.

Whatever comeback Kazuma was about to toss back at Hiei was lost as the floor of the apartment began to roll and shudder turbulently. A din of noise rising around the group as they scrambled to the safety of the doorway. All but Hiei, that is, who remained on his perch in the window sill unaffected by the chaos surrounding him.

"Shit!" Yuusuke cursed under his breath as a particularly vicious roll of the earth sent the shoji door rolling painfully into his elbow. Kuwabara shot him a dour glare before turning his attentions to reassuring the panicked kittens in the box he so lovingly cradled.

Around them, pictures and a mounted katana bounced and danced on the walls before finally freeing themselves from their wall mounts and falling unceremoniously to the tatami mats. Glasses and other small trinkets and objects soon met the fallen wall decor from their own previous resting places upon the tables and shelves.

"Sorry." Kazuma muttered over the dull roar after losing his footing during the constant and unsteady motion of the ground beneath him, causing him to bump into Kurama.

"It's alright," the kitsune reassured, steadying Kuwabara before he lost his balance once again. Kazuma shot him a grateful smile, and a nod of thanks.

This was worse than being drunk. Much worse. At lease when you were drunk, the world didn't sound like it wanted to swallow you whole.

The roaring din suddenly stopped, as if being shut off by a switch. A few moments passed and the tremors died away to an eerie stillness.

"Is it over?" Kuwabara hesitantly asked, taking a tentative step out into the room. The kittens in the box let out plaintive mews reminding Kuwabara of his precious bundles hugged to his chest. Gently, he set the box down on the floor, all the while surveying the damage to his apartment. He let out a sigh of relief as he spotted no immediate structural damage.

"It would appear so." Kurama replied calmly, stepping into the room and over to the window next to Hiei, peering out thoughtfully.

"Fucking hell!" Yuusuke cursed. "The least Koenma could have done was keep us in Rei-kai during that!" He groused massaging his offended elbow.

This time it was Kuwabara's turn to laugh outright and turn the tables on his friend. "What's the matter, Urameshi? Scared of a little earthquake?" Kazuma taunted gleefully.

"Shut up, Kuwabara!" Yuusuke snapped back. "I'm not interested in your stupid game!"

Kuwabara just laughed at Yuusuke's discomfiture, only to sober once more. "I hope Yukina's alright." He conceded aloud. There was no phone at Genkai's for him to call her and check. Provided, of course, the phone lines were still working. And that, he highly doubted.

"She's fine."

Kazuma's head flew up from the kittens before him to the stoic figure perched on his window sill.

"What about Keiko?" Yuusuke asked with equal seriousness. Chocolate colored eyes glancing to the silent fox, then back to Hiei before adding, "And Shiori-san?"

Hiei shot Yuusuke a dark glare, before returning his gaze to the window. For a moment, Kuwabara though Hiei was going to out and out ignore Yuusuke's request, but was silently pleased when the fire apparition finally answered.

"They're fine." Hiei stated emotionlessly.

"Thank you." Kurama replied softly to his comrade. "Though I should probably call my mother nonetheless." He added with a self-deprecating air. Politely he excused himself, fishing out his cell phone as he disappeared into the kitchen. Yuusuke soon followed suit grumbling the whole way as he, too, pulled out his "damned electronic leash."

Kazuma collapsed onto his sofa turning on his television, sending up a silent prayer to whatever god sat over electricity and good reception. He only halfway listened to the news anchorman reporting on the seismicity and collateral damage reports coming in on the earthquake, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Kuwabara muttered his brooding though aloud.

"Hn." Kuwabara hazarded a sideways glance to the saturnine figure staring fixedly out the window.

Had he just agreed? Kazuma wondered incredulously, though wisely opting not to push the subject with the temperamental youkai.

~*~

"Has it passed?"

"Get the generator running!"

"We need some light in here!"

"Check the artifacts for damage!"

"Where's the god-damned lights?"

"It's still intact!"

"She's more than intact, she fucking perfection!"

"Generator's up!"

"Then, why isn't there any fucking lights?"

Dr. Murata hastily made his way across the dig site toward the main tent. Dischordant shouts, and the clangs of machinery and such reaching his ears unheeded as he moved quickly to his desired location. Pausing outside the large tent, he distractedly cleaned his glasses as he mentally braced himself for what awaited him inside. Quickly reseating his glasses on his round nose, the middle-aged archaeologist pushed aside the tent's flap before ducking inside.

The sight he beheld caused the very breath to catch in his throat, as he leaned against a nearby table for support. His eyes growing wide in mute awe as they raced feverishly over the subject that held his complete fascination.

Perfection. That was the only word Murata could think of to accurately describe what stood before him. But even that one word seemed to die and pale in comparison to the divine magnificence before him.

The life-sized statue loomed before him, glowing a soft pink even in the dim light of the gaslights and electric lanterns. The subject of the brilliant sculpture was that of a miko from the feudal era. Her arms outstretched as though either welcoming in some lost soul, or fending off an unseen assailant. Murata could not be sure of which. Though by her serene countenance, Murata was sure that whomever this nameless miko was, she was truly a woman of great purity, love, and compassion. No doubt someone worthy of the obvious reverence bestowed on her likeness.

Though, perhaps, the most amazing aspect of the statue was not the near life-like quality of detail to its rendering and composition, but it's material make-up. Early tests on the statue proved it to be made up entirely of pink diamond. A feat unheard of by modern standards; when added to the carbon dating of both it and the artifacts surrounding it, it became nearly impossible to believe. If it weren't for the very proof standing before him, Murata would have dismissed the concept of such a find as pure fantasy himself.

How could an artisan from five-hundred years in the past be able to wrought from diamond a sculpture as perfect as this? Where could they have found a diamond large enough? Why did the sculpture deviate so greatly from the artistic style of sculptural renderings from that period in both looks and subject?

The questions and implications were staggering, to say the least. But Murata was almost giddy over the prospect of eventually being the one to answer them. After all, it wasn't everyday one was handed the quill to essentially rewrite history as the world knows it. And right now, Murata stood at the precipice of exactly that opportunity.

There was little doubt in his mind that this momentous discovery, looking down kindly upon his humble personage with an angelic luminance, would make his career. He could devote the rest of his life to learning the secrets to this nameless miko, and make a fortune while doing so. And entire life of luxury and financial security ensured for both Murata and his family, all from one little accident.

He'd been chasing after his pet dog while excavating the sight of an ancient burned out shrine and nearby fort-like village when he'd stumbled across a clearing and opening to an underground cavern. What had started out as nothing larger than a mere rabbit hole, had quickly turned into a large hidden, underground shrine complex. And there, amidst the rubble and debris of the decaying and forgotten shrine, stood his miko; glowing even in that false twilight like a beacon against the impending gloom surrounding her.

She was like a goddess of mercy to Murata, a goddess of compassion. Perhaps that had been the intention of her creation and design; to give comfort and grace to all lost and fallen souls who stumbled upon her infinitely gentle countenance and open arms. One last symbolic embrace before they met their end.

A gracious lady, a healer of souls, and he, Murata Kenji, had been the one selected to tell her tale. Maybe even destined to give her back to the world and it's millions all crying out for comfort and peace.

She was a divine gift from the gods. Murata was sure of it. She had ensured his family would be taken care of, and well looked after. His career was secured. And he had the greatest puzzle imaginable to figure out. His, and his alone.

For the first time in twenty years, Murata felt the stirrings of passion within his soul. And with that sense of passion came a great wave of humility and gratitude.

Bowing deeply in reverence to the statue, he offered up his thanks to the gods so evidently smiling down upon him. As he was rising back up, something on the ground caught his eye. What appeared to be a piece of parchment was peeking out of the ground near the base of the statue. Kneeling down, he quickly, though gently, unearthed the mostly hidden scroll with deft fingers. Once freed from its earthen grave, Murata hugged the scroll to his chest protectively, turning his gaze up to the figure he knelt before.

"I will tell your story." Murata whispered reverently up to the frozen features. "All the world will know of you and admire you. I swear it." He vowed passionately, bowing once again allowing himself to fall prostrate at the statue's feet. "I will be your faithful and most humble messenger. Of, that you can be assured." He carried on feverishly.

Glancing down at the delicate scroll in his arms, he once again carefully crushed it to his chest, mindful not to damage the fragile parchment containing what was no doubt the legend of this benevolent miko rendered so lovingly before him. Maybe even written by the very artists hand! Murata dared to fancy.

"Thank you." Murata lauded. "Thank you. Thank you." He chanted softly, before pushing himself to his feet with a newfound vigor, and respectfully took his leave.

Once to his personal tent, Murata sat down behind his desk, and fastidiously unrolled the scroll. He poured over the ancient texts obsessively late into the night. All the while he wrote endless notes and conjectures on the subject found within.

For the next month he poured himself relentlessly into his work, taking no heed of others, or his own weariness. Only the next discovery his precious statue bestowed upon him sparking his interest away from his mountain of notes and speculations.

~*~

The remaining three months of the excavation and ensuing research gathering, presentations to the scientific community, and the inevitable media blitz; passed in a blur of flashbulb photography for Dr. Murata. Not a day passed now that he did not find his name in some newspaper or scientific journal, nor his face on some news program airing one of the countless interviews he'd given. It was almost as if he'd become one of those overnight celebrities, doomed to burn brighter than all the stars in the heavens, only to quickly die out and fade away.

The whole fanfare he'd received, if Murata were to be completely honest, was more than a bit unnerving. It seemed the whole world wanted a piece of him, and more importantly, The Diamond Girl of Musashi, as the media had dubbed his find. And for that exposure, at least, he was grateful. It could not be said that Murata Kenji was not a man of his word, even if that promise was given to an inanimate object.

Sighing, he read over the contracts laid out neatly before him once again. He'd just gotten them back from his lawyer earlier that same day with the all clear sign, but the legal jargon was still intimidating to Dr. Murata. After all, he considered himself to be a simple man, with a simple dream and passions. See his family is well cared for, and learn everything he could about all that was.

Rubbing his balding head in indecision, Murata finally picked up his pen and scribbled out his signature, thus finalizing the museum tour and eventual donation to the Shinto shrine he'd donated it to in Kyoto. The museum tour would help him gain the exposure needed to get funding for future research and excavations into the surrounding areas where he'd discovered his ephemeral miko amongst other eccentric and odd artifacts and scrolls.

Among them, Murata had come across the legend of a jewel shard quest, centering around a mysterious miko and inu-hanyou. As well as weaponry both recognizable and not. Religious aesthetics had also littered the area, belonging to both the Shinto and Buddhist faiths.

These mysterious, and often times, contradicting evidence only seemed to add to the forming lore of the miko, all the while fueling her draw and appeal to the masses. Not to mention a vein of research that was proving to be both endless and complex. His little miko was showing herself to be quite the puzzle, and Murata always did love a good puzzle.

Murata leaned back in the chair behind his desk as he scratched his chin in thought. In one more month, his gem would be on public display to the world. The old adage of "Be careful what you wish for" resonating throughout his foremost thoughts. Privately, he smiled musingly.

Yes, all his wishes did appear to be coming true.