InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Serendipity ❯ Chapter 1
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Pretty in Pink 
In her eyes, he saw his future in an instant. And dove in headfirst. [Kagome/Hiei] Companion piece to Destiny.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.20.2008 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
In her eyes, he saw his future in an instant. And dove in headfirst. [Kagome/Hiei] Companion piece to Destiny.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.20.2008 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
I own neither Inuyasha nor Yu Yu Hakusho and gain no profit through my pitiful little writings.
AN/ Well, here you go; my first ever Hiei/Kagome piece. I have a lot of ideas for an actual story, but don’t expect anything. I don’t have time for it. However, if anyone else wanted to write something, I’d be willing to lend you a plot…
Written to: Hayley Westenra’s “Memory” and “Scarborough Fair”. … Don’t ask.
.
Serendipity
.
I remember the first time I saw her.
She was small. She was weak. She was unremarkable. And she was human.
Belatedly, I would realize that I was wrong on all four accounts.
.
I remember the first time I met her.
She was strange.
She traveled with a hanyou, a monk, a youkai slayer, a kitsune child, and a nekomata. Without even talking to her, I could already tell she wasn’t what one would consider average.
There was her clothing. It was outrageously indecent. But, in complete contrast, she was almost childish in her innocence. There was her curious dialect and her words that didn’t make sense. But, she was stranger still.
She approached me first, despite the warnings of her friends. I planned to take the jewel from her. I had planned it for weeks. It was finally whole. And soon it would be mine.
I was injured; bleeding from several gashes acquired in an earlier scuffle with a pack of tiger youkai. It was nothing too serious and certainly not enough to keep me from ripping that little treasure of hers she paraded around off her pretty neck.
But she came to me slowly, hands raised in a peaceful gesture, concern shining in her eyes.
She was a damn fool.
I should have killed her right then.
.
I didn’t like the hanyou.
He was rash and foolish. And he didn’t see how she looked at him. I did.
He was hated by both sides of his ancestry. The youkai looked down on him; the ningen feared him. But she… she adored him. And she never tired of telling him so.
It was infuriating.
And I didn’t like him.
Maybe I resented him.
But I wasn’t jealous!
…I just didn’t like him.
.
I think it was the first winter when I realized she was dangerous.
Before, whenever there was a battle to be fought, her companions always took the front lines. She would stand behind, watching in worry with the little fox, but she never interfered. She knew her place.
It was a calm winter night. She had decided to take a walk for whatever reason. Dressed in more of those strange clothes of hers, these thicker and more suited for colder weather. The snow was knee-deep and still falling. The glowing jewel at her throat lit her path in an eerie purple as she weaved through the ashen trees. She stopped in a clearing to draw shapes in the snow, smiling all the time.
There was an old well in the center, sides sloped and smoothed into nothing more than a lump in the snow. Her smile faded as she approached it, and her eyes didn’t shine so bright as she carefully, reverently brushed the snow from one of the sides and took a seat on the wood.
It was very dark, and very quiet for a long while as she just sat and looked down into the abyss of the well. I was content to just watch her as I always did.
A twig snapped somewhere beyond the trees and her head whipped around, hair falling in disarray around her shoulders, eyes wide and searching.
“Youkai-sama? Is that you?” She called out to me.
Her answer was a great roar as an oni burst through the trees and charged her. She hadn’t her bow, and at the time I reasoned that it probably wouldn’t have done her much good anyway. I’d never seen her draw it, and after a few months had begun to suspect it was more of an accessory than a weapon.
She stood in preparation, one hand going to the glowing pink jewel at her throat. I had just made the decision to do away with the beast when a light gathered in her outstretched hand and flew towards it. On impact, the oni screamed and burst into a cloud of gray ash.
The feeling of the energy made my skin crawl.
I left after seeing her back to the village.
.
She was a miko. How I had missed it, I don’t know.
Pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. But there were even more now that didn’t fit.
It didn’t make sense that she traveled with a hanyou and seemed to care for a fox youkai like a child. She doted on him, fed him, protected him, entertained him. Miko hated youkai. And youkai hated miko. They killed each other on sight. This was… this was bizarre.
She didn’t seem to differentiate between human and demon or anything in between. If it was in pain, she tried to help. And more often than not got her hand bitten for her trouble. But it never deterred her.
What was she playing at?
She bared watching.
And watch I did.
.
It was spring again. She hadn’t changed. The hanyou had.
After many heartfelt goodbyes, he left one afternoon in a torrent of rain. I think he chose that day so the weather might prevent her from following him. Though, if she had wanted to, I knew nothing in heaven or hell could have stopped her.
I saw their little family crumble, and she tried her best to fill the void he had left. The stage was set.
.
As is its nature, time passed the little broken group. The air was thick. Their moods were melancholy at best.
It was mere weeks after the departure of their hanyou that the monk and the demon slayer announced their desire to leave and begin rebuilding the taijiya’s village. She was heartbroken and the slayer seemed reluctant to leave her alone. She offered her an apprentice position in her new village, but it was declined. For some reason, the miko said she wanted to stay close to the well. The significance was lost on me.
The nekomata stayed, but the two humans left. She wished them luck and smiled through her tears.
I could hear her heart break with every sob.
.
The season was on the precipice of summer.
With the others gone, I felt comfortable enough to relax my stealth. I let her catch glimpses of me through the trees, to let her know I was still there. I think I wanted to protect her.
She didn’t seem to mind.
.
She began calling out to me in the evenings. Inviting me to dinner with her and the kit and nekomata. She never used my name, I hadn’t told her what it was.
The noodles smelled delicious, but I never showed myself.
She never gave up, and even began leaving a bowl by the edge of camp every evening. And every morning, when she found the empty dish, she smiled.
I liked that I could make her smile.
.
One day, she took the kit to a small beach by a lake to swim.
She left a trail of tiny footprints in the sand as she chased the laughing boy down the shore. I followed them, marveling at how small and light they were compared to mine. Like a little fairy’s on fluttering wings.
I couldn’t understand how something so small, so fragile could hold so much power. Sometimes, when she was forced into battle, I thought her little body might burst with all the energy crackling through the air around her.
But she was strong. Despite appearances, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Perhaps we had that in common, if nothing else.
.
Sometimes she would watch the stars at night. And sometimes I would watch them with her, mostly in silence and always hidden. I think I was afraid of scaring her away. Although, in retrospect, I suppose I should have realized that if a sword to her neck didn’t frighten her nothing would.
She would tell me about the constellations. And she would tell me stories of the people in the stars. I never responded, but I think she knew I was listening, because she came back every night.
The stars were nice, but the ones in her brilliant blue eyes were so much more.
.
She had a habit of humming to herself while she worked. At breakfast, it was a light, airy tune as she scurried to prepare the meal and wake the kit with playful kisses. Sometimes, a murmur became a whisper. Sometimes a whisper became a soft word. She sang of water and roses and colorful silks.
In the evenings, when she was tucking in her little brood, she hummed a slow, earthly tune of leafy paths and lazy clouds. The kit would smile as she kissed him goodnight and prepared for her bath.
If she found a hot spring, she would shout out into the trees for me to turn my head. After giving me a few seconds, she would lower herself into the water. She cleaned herself and then laid back against the rocks to relax. And she would sing softly to herself of hime and samurai and the rivers that could not sever.
It was my favorite tune.
It made me want to smile.
I didn’t. But it made me want to.
-
As I watched her interact with the kit and the people she passed on this aimless path, I began to wonder.
I wanted to know what it was like to talk with her. I wanted to know what it was like to touch her. I wanted to know her. And I wanted her to know me.
I was sure, if she knew what I really was, how I really was, she would want nothing to do with me. But, something in me wanted to know. Something in me that I had kept buried for so long wanted her to tell me it didn’t matter.
If ever there was anyone who I could allow to know me, it was her.
So I began to talk to her. The first night was awkward at best. I had never really spoken to anyone simply for the sake of conversation. No one had ever wanted to and I had honestly never been inclined to do so myself. But she had a way of putting me at ease and soon the words came easily enough.
She had a brother, a mother, and a grandfather. Her home was very far away, and she missed them dearly. She was worried about her future. With everyone gone, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She was scared.
I mostly just listened, but she finally pried some information out of me. She wanted to know about my family. Not wanting to go into too much detail, I settled on telling her I had a sister. She asked if she was as cute as me.
I think I actually blushed.
I know she did.
.
It was a dark, warm summer night. Lately, I had taken to sitting with her by the fire until she fell asleep at night. It must have been another nightmare that woke her that night.
She found me in my usual nightly routine.
I had heard a group of rogue samurai speaking earlier as we passed them on the road. They were hoping to sneak up on us after nightfall. I took care of them before they had the chance.
I was still dripping with their blood when she stumbled through the trees, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
I watched warily as she surveyed the bloody scene. I’d slaughtered them, every one, and their dismembered bodies lay in a half-circle around me. I’d enjoyed it, too. I was sure it was coming. The scream, the horror, the rejection.
But, no.
Her brows knit delicately in concern as her gentle fingers found a small, shallow cut on my arm where one of them had nicked me. I hadn’t even realized it in the rush of adrenaline.
I nearly jerked at her touch, but held her blue gaze with my own. I searched.
There was no fear and no anger and no disgust. Only… concern.
For me.
Concern for me.
The weight of it hit me like nothing I’d ever felt and something in me snapped. The emotion in her eyes swelled against me like a warm ocean wave. It wrapped around me. I could feel it in my pores and all over me and I wanted to drown in it.
In her eyes I saw my future in an instant.
And I dove in headfirst.
.
One day, one cool autumn day, she disappeared in a swell of pink light. The jewel was gone as well.
I was shocked. And confused. And the kit wouldn’t stop crying.
I searched for her for months. But, eventually, I accepted the fact that I would never see this woman, this friend ever again.
I was loathe to return to that lonesome life I had lived before I met her. I had tasted… something. And to just move on and pretend it never happened. I didn’t know if I could do it.
But necessity sparks strength.
And I survived.
Years and centuries passed in a blur. I found a man who could give me the Jagan implant. I finally located the koorime village. I found I liked this new demon world, this Makai. I had never really cared much for humans. They were greedy and weak and foolish. Of course, there was always that one exception. But, pretty soon I even forgot about her.
.
She was a distant memory now. A single smudge of blue paint on a cluttered red canvas. I could hardly remember her voice. But her eyes. I could still picture them each time I looked at the stars. Lucky for me, Makai doesn’t have stars.
But then I escaped into the ningenkai. And I was caught. I joined the Reikai Tantei, albeit unwillingly, and came to respect my teammates… most of them. And I think I was content.
And then I saw her. Standing in Koenma’s office. Arguing with him like I’d seen her do millions of times with the hanyou. That damn hanyou.
Her hands were perched angrily on her temperamental hips, her hair was frazzled and a pout was set to her full, pink lips. Her azure eyes were flashing fiercely with every heated word. She noticed us walk in and turned.
And her eyes lit with recognition.
She remembered me. And she smiled.
.
I am Hiei, and she is Kagome. Perhaps we are not the most likely of pairs. But, nothing about Kagome is likely. If there is one thing I’ve learned with her, it’s that the normal rules don’t apply. She’s in a class of her own.
And if that damn silver fox doesn’t get his devious paws off her, he’s going to find out what his insides look like.
.
AN/ There may or may not be a companion piece to this, one from Kagome’s point of view. I’ll see if I have time. I <3 one-shots. And thanks to madmiko for making me realize with her wonderful works that Hiei and Kagome belong together.
AN/ Well, here you go; my first ever Hiei/Kagome piece. I have a lot of ideas for an actual story, but don’t expect anything. I don’t have time for it. However, if anyone else wanted to write something, I’d be willing to lend you a plot…
Written to: Hayley Westenra’s “Memory” and “Scarborough Fair”. … Don’t ask.
.
Serendipity
.
I remember the first time I saw her.
She was small. She was weak. She was unremarkable. And she was human.
Belatedly, I would realize that I was wrong on all four accounts.
.
I remember the first time I met her.
She was strange.
She traveled with a hanyou, a monk, a youkai slayer, a kitsune child, and a nekomata. Without even talking to her, I could already tell she wasn’t what one would consider average.
There was her clothing. It was outrageously indecent. But, in complete contrast, she was almost childish in her innocence. There was her curious dialect and her words that didn’t make sense. But, she was stranger still.
She approached me first, despite the warnings of her friends. I planned to take the jewel from her. I had planned it for weeks. It was finally whole. And soon it would be mine.
I was injured; bleeding from several gashes acquired in an earlier scuffle with a pack of tiger youkai. It was nothing too serious and certainly not enough to keep me from ripping that little treasure of hers she paraded around off her pretty neck.
But she came to me slowly, hands raised in a peaceful gesture, concern shining in her eyes.
She was a damn fool.
I should have killed her right then.
.
I didn’t like the hanyou.
He was rash and foolish. And he didn’t see how she looked at him. I did.
He was hated by both sides of his ancestry. The youkai looked down on him; the ningen feared him. But she… she adored him. And she never tired of telling him so.
It was infuriating.
And I didn’t like him.
Maybe I resented him.
But I wasn’t jealous!
…I just didn’t like him.
.
I think it was the first winter when I realized she was dangerous.
Before, whenever there was a battle to be fought, her companions always took the front lines. She would stand behind, watching in worry with the little fox, but she never interfered. She knew her place.
It was a calm winter night. She had decided to take a walk for whatever reason. Dressed in more of those strange clothes of hers, these thicker and more suited for colder weather. The snow was knee-deep and still falling. The glowing jewel at her throat lit her path in an eerie purple as she weaved through the ashen trees. She stopped in a clearing to draw shapes in the snow, smiling all the time.
There was an old well in the center, sides sloped and smoothed into nothing more than a lump in the snow. Her smile faded as she approached it, and her eyes didn’t shine so bright as she carefully, reverently brushed the snow from one of the sides and took a seat on the wood.
It was very dark, and very quiet for a long while as she just sat and looked down into the abyss of the well. I was content to just watch her as I always did.
A twig snapped somewhere beyond the trees and her head whipped around, hair falling in disarray around her shoulders, eyes wide and searching.
“Youkai-sama? Is that you?” She called out to me.
Her answer was a great roar as an oni burst through the trees and charged her. She hadn’t her bow, and at the time I reasoned that it probably wouldn’t have done her much good anyway. I’d never seen her draw it, and after a few months had begun to suspect it was more of an accessory than a weapon.
She stood in preparation, one hand going to the glowing pink jewel at her throat. I had just made the decision to do away with the beast when a light gathered in her outstretched hand and flew towards it. On impact, the oni screamed and burst into a cloud of gray ash.
The feeling of the energy made my skin crawl.
I left after seeing her back to the village.
.
She was a miko. How I had missed it, I don’t know.
Pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. But there were even more now that didn’t fit.
It didn’t make sense that she traveled with a hanyou and seemed to care for a fox youkai like a child. She doted on him, fed him, protected him, entertained him. Miko hated youkai. And youkai hated miko. They killed each other on sight. This was… this was bizarre.
She didn’t seem to differentiate between human and demon or anything in between. If it was in pain, she tried to help. And more often than not got her hand bitten for her trouble. But it never deterred her.
What was she playing at?
She bared watching.
And watch I did.
.
It was spring again. She hadn’t changed. The hanyou had.
After many heartfelt goodbyes, he left one afternoon in a torrent of rain. I think he chose that day so the weather might prevent her from following him. Though, if she had wanted to, I knew nothing in heaven or hell could have stopped her.
I saw their little family crumble, and she tried her best to fill the void he had left. The stage was set.
.
As is its nature, time passed the little broken group. The air was thick. Their moods were melancholy at best.
It was mere weeks after the departure of their hanyou that the monk and the demon slayer announced their desire to leave and begin rebuilding the taijiya’s village. She was heartbroken and the slayer seemed reluctant to leave her alone. She offered her an apprentice position in her new village, but it was declined. For some reason, the miko said she wanted to stay close to the well. The significance was lost on me.
The nekomata stayed, but the two humans left. She wished them luck and smiled through her tears.
I could hear her heart break with every sob.
.
The season was on the precipice of summer.
With the others gone, I felt comfortable enough to relax my stealth. I let her catch glimpses of me through the trees, to let her know I was still there. I think I wanted to protect her.
She didn’t seem to mind.
.
She began calling out to me in the evenings. Inviting me to dinner with her and the kit and nekomata. She never used my name, I hadn’t told her what it was.
The noodles smelled delicious, but I never showed myself.
She never gave up, and even began leaving a bowl by the edge of camp every evening. And every morning, when she found the empty dish, she smiled.
I liked that I could make her smile.
.
One day, she took the kit to a small beach by a lake to swim.
She left a trail of tiny footprints in the sand as she chased the laughing boy down the shore. I followed them, marveling at how small and light they were compared to mine. Like a little fairy’s on fluttering wings.
I couldn’t understand how something so small, so fragile could hold so much power. Sometimes, when she was forced into battle, I thought her little body might burst with all the energy crackling through the air around her.
But she was strong. Despite appearances, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Perhaps we had that in common, if nothing else.
.
Sometimes she would watch the stars at night. And sometimes I would watch them with her, mostly in silence and always hidden. I think I was afraid of scaring her away. Although, in retrospect, I suppose I should have realized that if a sword to her neck didn’t frighten her nothing would.
She would tell me about the constellations. And she would tell me stories of the people in the stars. I never responded, but I think she knew I was listening, because she came back every night.
The stars were nice, but the ones in her brilliant blue eyes were so much more.
.
She had a habit of humming to herself while she worked. At breakfast, it was a light, airy tune as she scurried to prepare the meal and wake the kit with playful kisses. Sometimes, a murmur became a whisper. Sometimes a whisper became a soft word. She sang of water and roses and colorful silks.
In the evenings, when she was tucking in her little brood, she hummed a slow, earthly tune of leafy paths and lazy clouds. The kit would smile as she kissed him goodnight and prepared for her bath.
If she found a hot spring, she would shout out into the trees for me to turn my head. After giving me a few seconds, she would lower herself into the water. She cleaned herself and then laid back against the rocks to relax. And she would sing softly to herself of hime and samurai and the rivers that could not sever.
It was my favorite tune.
It made me want to smile.
I didn’t. But it made me want to.
-
As I watched her interact with the kit and the people she passed on this aimless path, I began to wonder.
I wanted to know what it was like to talk with her. I wanted to know what it was like to touch her. I wanted to know her. And I wanted her to know me.
I was sure, if she knew what I really was, how I really was, she would want nothing to do with me. But, something in me wanted to know. Something in me that I had kept buried for so long wanted her to tell me it didn’t matter.
If ever there was anyone who I could allow to know me, it was her.
So I began to talk to her. The first night was awkward at best. I had never really spoken to anyone simply for the sake of conversation. No one had ever wanted to and I had honestly never been inclined to do so myself. But she had a way of putting me at ease and soon the words came easily enough.
She had a brother, a mother, and a grandfather. Her home was very far away, and she missed them dearly. She was worried about her future. With everyone gone, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She was scared.
I mostly just listened, but she finally pried some information out of me. She wanted to know about my family. Not wanting to go into too much detail, I settled on telling her I had a sister. She asked if she was as cute as me.
I think I actually blushed.
I know she did.
.
It was a dark, warm summer night. Lately, I had taken to sitting with her by the fire until she fell asleep at night. It must have been another nightmare that woke her that night.
She found me in my usual nightly routine.
I had heard a group of rogue samurai speaking earlier as we passed them on the road. They were hoping to sneak up on us after nightfall. I took care of them before they had the chance.
I was still dripping with their blood when she stumbled through the trees, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
I watched warily as she surveyed the bloody scene. I’d slaughtered them, every one, and their dismembered bodies lay in a half-circle around me. I’d enjoyed it, too. I was sure it was coming. The scream, the horror, the rejection.
But, no.
Her brows knit delicately in concern as her gentle fingers found a small, shallow cut on my arm where one of them had nicked me. I hadn’t even realized it in the rush of adrenaline.
I nearly jerked at her touch, but held her blue gaze with my own. I searched.
There was no fear and no anger and no disgust. Only… concern.
For me.
Concern for me.
The weight of it hit me like nothing I’d ever felt and something in me snapped. The emotion in her eyes swelled against me like a warm ocean wave. It wrapped around me. I could feel it in my pores and all over me and I wanted to drown in it.
In her eyes I saw my future in an instant.
And I dove in headfirst.
.
One day, one cool autumn day, she disappeared in a swell of pink light. The jewel was gone as well.
I was shocked. And confused. And the kit wouldn’t stop crying.
I searched for her for months. But, eventually, I accepted the fact that I would never see this woman, this friend ever again.
I was loathe to return to that lonesome life I had lived before I met her. I had tasted… something. And to just move on and pretend it never happened. I didn’t know if I could do it.
But necessity sparks strength.
And I survived.
Years and centuries passed in a blur. I found a man who could give me the Jagan implant. I finally located the koorime village. I found I liked this new demon world, this Makai. I had never really cared much for humans. They were greedy and weak and foolish. Of course, there was always that one exception. But, pretty soon I even forgot about her.
.
She was a distant memory now. A single smudge of blue paint on a cluttered red canvas. I could hardly remember her voice. But her eyes. I could still picture them each time I looked at the stars. Lucky for me, Makai doesn’t have stars.
But then I escaped into the ningenkai. And I was caught. I joined the Reikai Tantei, albeit unwillingly, and came to respect my teammates… most of them. And I think I was content.
And then I saw her. Standing in Koenma’s office. Arguing with him like I’d seen her do millions of times with the hanyou. That damn hanyou.
Her hands were perched angrily on her temperamental hips, her hair was frazzled and a pout was set to her full, pink lips. Her azure eyes were flashing fiercely with every heated word. She noticed us walk in and turned.
And her eyes lit with recognition.
She remembered me. And she smiled.
.
I am Hiei, and she is Kagome. Perhaps we are not the most likely of pairs. But, nothing about Kagome is likely. If there is one thing I’ve learned with her, it’s that the normal rules don’t apply. She’s in a class of her own.
And if that damn silver fox doesn’t get his devious paws off her, he’s going to find out what his insides look like.
.
AN/ There may or may not be a companion piece to this, one from Kagome’s point of view. I’ll see if I have time. I <3 one-shots. And thanks to madmiko for making me realize with her wonderful works that Hiei and Kagome belong together.