Annoying Author Blurb: Eh, I'm back. This rewrite took approximately seven days to write, about one hour to post. I'm too slow. @_@ I mean, come on, I know authors that start to apologize past a two-day write. Am listening to my Do As Infinity CD. Whoopee!

Disclaimer: No own!

.

.

.

Hollow Eyes

By Elementsofmine/elementalspirit125

.

.

.

Poetic Justice

(Not Now! Of All Times…)

This story is rated R. The ratings vary from chapter to chapter. This chapter is rated R for language and adult situations.

2004 Tokyo, Japan. Corner of Maya's Coffee House, almost one year after what later became known as the 'Tokyo Assassination Bombing'. Naraku is now 17.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

When Naraku looked up at the clock that hung outside the Coffee House, he could just make out the shadowed hands pointing at seven.

Five minutes later, the clock stopped ticking.

Within the inner streets of Tokyo, on the corner where the coffee shop sits, placidly waiting for customers all night long, energy was hard to come by. When visiting, the first thing many tourists noticed was the seemingly lazy pace at which the people there moved. The busy sections of the city were crammed with people, all running about in different directions, each doing his or her best not to be late for whatever important appointment that sent them scurrying. In the darker portions of the city however, time seemed to slow down.

Even the clock understood this, having hung above the Coffee House entrance since the store opened. Apparently saving its energy for later, the hands stopped its ticking and hang, motionless, suspended a little above the gleaming numeral seven.

Seven-o'clock at night is a dangerous time to be out; the night sky in Tokyo came swiftly, blocking out all remaining traces of its brother Sun. Once the prostitutes and thieves began their nightly prowl, most people began seeking the shelter of their homes.

Naraku was in full exhilaration mode. He couldn't stop smiling; feeling it tug at his lips and pull at his skin. Watching the nightlife begin to appear only added onto his excitement. Today was -the- night, perfectly suited to what he wanted to do.

The early sunsets left the sky dark and bleak, elongating shadows and stretching out those mysterious objects that seem to lurk in every dark crook. Strange things seemed to hide behind ordinary-day objects, skulking just out of sight.

Naraku's unnaturally long fingers grazed over the pocketknife enclosed in its leather casing at his belt. Pulling out the same knife once used six years ago, he took the time to juggle it around, watching the last sunlight rays gleam on its blade.

Holding it up to his face and turning it slightly to the right, Naraku noticed a figure standing across the street from him in the reflection. Unbeknownst to him, he let out a sharp gasp at her figure.

A shield of lank black hair shaded a shockingly skinny girl, her face hidden as she slumped against part of the coffee shop's walls. Thin chalky fingers reached out imploringly from time to time, pointing pitifully at an old torn hat where scattered bills and coins lay.

A sign at the base of her feet read, Sugar for Money.

Naraku involuntarily shuddered. He doubted he would ever understand prostitutes.

His fingers stroked the blade of his knife absently; feeling the cool metal cut his fingers. It burned, but he did not move his fingers. His eyes followed the steady drip of blood, which slowly began hiding the figure of the girl. Removing his wet fingers from the blade, he sucked contemplatively on his fingers, tasting the saltiness.

Something poked at his mind, and he turned to watch the girl across the street. A seedy-looking man was with her now, touching her. A dollar bill exchanged hands, and the skeletal girl pocketed it into her dirty jacket. They began a slow, erotic dance.

He watched the girl's eyes mist over. A tiny pang of sorrow jabbed piercingly at him. He started to miss watching the feverish green eyes watching the thinning crowd of people mournfully.

The beautiful maiden with the hollow eyes…

He snorted dismissively. He was starting to get poetic at the time of his near death; great. Going back to the matter at hand, he impulsively clutched the obituary already stashed in his jean pocket, typed up just that morning on an old typewriter. Everything had been planned out; he had written it himself, no one else sharing that shred of knowledge. Sensing the shuddering of his hand without even looking, Naraku took timed breaths to try and steady himself. Done with that, he brought the knife up to his heart.

He pressed slightly on the handle of the knife. The blade ran through his jacket, his shirt, and scratched slightly on his chest.

Looking across the street for what he knew would probably be the last time, he stiffened. Another man had arrived, obviously not as caring as the last. Naraku felt his body tense and bumps coated his arms.

The man grabbed the wide-eyed girl roughly, and slammed her into the brick walls of the coffee house in unrighteous anger. Even from his standpoint, Naraku could clearly see the young girl's eyes grow round with fear, frozen in place.

Run, Naraku pleaded silently, unaware that his lips forming his silent plea. Run! The girl didn't move, cowering in horror and pain as the man slapped her once, twice, thrice across the face. Naraku watched tersely as he watched the man grab, shake, and punch her body. Some hidden part of his brain realized that everyone on the street seemed to have vanished sometime during the beating. The girl's shrill screams and cries out for help echoed pitifully through the empty streets.

Naraku felt his eyes misting over, a red fog taking away all last shreds of his resolve. Before he could think, the hand that was clutching the knife pulled away from his chest. Ordering his arm muscles to relax and aim, Naraku threw the knife in one fluid movement. The man across the street seemed drunk, but could obviously still hear the whistle of the blade when it sliced through the air in its path. His eyes widened, strongly resembling a squirrel caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, but in waste; before he could blink, he was sprawled on the sidewalk pavement, knife firmly in him.

Argh. Now what he gotten into?

Naraku felt his legs move of their own accord. Before he knew it, he was at the stunned girl's side. The man was still alive, though not for long, lying just a couple of feet away. He choked slightly, and his red-rimmed eyes stared straight at Naraku, surprise written clearly all over his face. Even though he was evidently drunk and dying, he could still focus.

Naraku ignored the dying man and let his attention concentrate on the girl. Her lips were moving soundlessly, forming silent words. "Speak up," Naraku commanded, curiosity sparked.

Looking up as though just seeing him, the girl gulped loudly and attempted to speak, although no sound came out of her mouth.

"What?"

She pointed irritably at her throat.

"I can't hear you."

Finally irritated to her wit's end, the girl snapped, eyes flashing angrily. "He's dead!"

Naraku stood up from his kneeling position. "No big deal," he shrugged lifting his shoulders in an almost careless fashion.

The girl gaped, mouth hanging open slightly. "B-but…y-you…he…" Taking one final look at the unfocused blank eyes of the dead man, she groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick," she gasped, before turning over and retching.

Naraku waited patiently for her to finish. When he was sure she was finished, he crouched down beside her, balancing himself. Encircling his arms around the shuddering girl, Naraku grunted as he hefted the girl up, balancing her on his hip. "Get on my back," he patiently said.

"I can walk," the girl retorted. Then, looking down at her limp dangling legs, she winced. "Then again, maybe I can't."

Sighing as she perceptibly gave no intention of moving from her position, Naraku bounced her, disregarding her screech, and balanced her on his back. Turning his head around to face her, he glared stonily at her ghost-white face.

"Don't you dare throw up on my shirt like you did back there. I'll make you pay for the laundry bill if you do."

The girl surprised him by letting out a nervous giggle. "I didn't throw up back there. You can't if you've got nothing to eat."

Feeling the tug at his bank account already, Naraku shifted her more comfortably on his back. "We'll get you properly fed and dressed tomorrow. You can sleep at my house tonight. Okay?"

A snore greeted him. The girl didn't even have enough sense to say thanks.

With his last vestiges of strength, Naraku was able to hold his grip firmly on her legs wrapped around his waist. Walking away from the dead man, Naraku suddenly stopped a few feet away, as though remembering something. Bobbing about awkwardly, Naraku managed to hold onto the girl while fishing about in his pocket for a spare pencil and his no-longer needed obituary. Quickly erasing some words and replacing others, Naraku let the scrap of paper fall down to the ground and used the edge of his shoe to wedge it under the body.

Shakily make his way down the street once more, Naraku could not help wondering what would have happened if he had only began his suicidal venture a couple of streets down from the corner. Things could've ended quite differently that way. Pushing the sleeping body back up with his hands to prevent the girl from falling, Naraku started off in the direction of his apartment, disappearing into the night.

.

.

.

August 18, 2004 Tokyo, Japan. Corner of Maya's Coffee House, next morning.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

"Boen to Station, Boen to Station, the time is four 'oh two, we've got a suspect here, right outside the coffeeshop, over."

Static greeted the policeman. A tired, tinny voice sounded through the walkie-talkie. "Well, bring him over then! Over."

Boen gave the device a dry look, hoping technology would boost up soon so he could make faces at his chief. "Can't sir, he's dead. Over."

A brief pause followed his statement. "Got any identification? Over."

Boen beckoned to the medical examiner, jabbing a finger at the remote device. "Chief wants the full. Got anything?" The examiner nodded, and called out to a young woman standing near the body.

"Hey, reporter lady! Give the obituary back!"

The woman didn't even look back at him. Throwing a scrap of paper over her shoulder to the police officer, she knelt down to sit beside the body.

Behind her, she could hear faint voices of the small crowd of police conversing normally, as though dead bodies usually turned up everywhere. Something still bothered her about the obituary found. Everyone had immediately assumed it was a suicide; her opinion differed. What man died by his own hand looking shocked?

Maybe he was shocked it had hurt; how thick exactly had this man been?

Then again, something about the last name triggered something in her memory. Hiroga …Hiroga … Her brain refused to provide a quick answer, leaving her stumped. Damn it. And she called herself a reporter. Sighing, Kagura made as if the stand up, placing one hand onto the ground to steady herself. Looking back at the man's blankly staring eyes, she used her fingers to close those eyes.

Something about them seemed familiar too. Kagura shivered.

It wasn't as if her coming to the crime scene was completely fruitless. She had managed to make a copy of the obituary found near the man in her own impeccable neat handwriting before the examiner wanted it back. Upon his asking, she had handed him the copy while keeping the original for herself. A close glance would reveal it was only pen-done; not inked. But the examiner had only wanted it for a quick moment. She suspected he had probably already thrown it away by now.

Jamaino Hiroga

Age: 51

Jamaino Hiroga, formerly of Kyoto, Japan, died August 17, 2004.

Something about the various smudges as though the writer had done some quick erasing bothered her. It wasn't a long obituary; did the man really need to rewrite it that much? Pocketing it into her purse, she walked off, high heels clicking importantly down the sidewalk.

.

.

.

Excerpt from diary found in empty slave quarter in mayor's mansion. Dated August 8, 2004 on last diary entry. Found on day of slave escape.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

August 8, 2004.

Diary;

Today's the day. Kaede assures us that no one will be at the front gate today. Ayame has been recruited to be part of the lineup that will divert the guard's attention from the main hallway and the door. She and her band of wolf-youkai will find a way for us to go unnoticed, I'm sure of it. She gave me a package today, held in a linen handkerchief. She knew a man before she was caught and brought here; one that she's sure is still alive. I am to try and find him, and give her present to him. His name is Kouga.

Kaede says it's almost time. We have ten minutes. Souta is scared. He holds my hand tightly. Kohaku is frightened too, but he's older than Souta and sits still, staring at the ground. He says the first thing he wants to do once he gets out is eat a real burger at a fast food restaurant. Then he wants to find his sister. It won't be easy; he doesn't know where she lives and if she is even still alive. He does have one tattered photograph of her, but it doesn't help much, being as it was taken when she was still very young. He doesn't even know her name.

Tai was angry today. One of the slaves didn't do a good enough job on cleaning his spear. All the slaves were punished, so none of us got to eat today. Kaede, however, being the clever lady she is, managed to sneak us some food to bring along with us.

The real problem is trying to fit in after escaping. Our dress and markings immediately distinguish us as slaves. Everywhere, there are slave hunters disguised as police, always keeping their eyes open for a potential slave escapee. Children wandering the streets without an adult are the most vulnerable. We'll have to be careful.

Oh! It's time to go! Wish me luck diary! I'll have to leave you here, I'm sorry. It's almost as though a friend was taken away. I'll miss you, and Kaede-san, and Ayame, Ginta, Hakaku, Totousai…

(Several button-sized water drops here blur and obscure the rest of the list)

Shiori, and Kanna…

Oh no! I didn't say goodbye to Inu! What if he-

(The entry ends here, the last sentence being unfinished, the pencil mark trailing off as though the writer was suddenly pulled away by the arm)

.

.

.

August 18, 2004. Four-story apartment complex, third floor. Room 409.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Kagome awoke to violent coughs. Sitting upright in the bed, she choked on her own strained gasps. Feeling her wrists grind against her ribs as she fought for air, her face flushed with heat. Something -hurt- inside her, thudding out painfully stark vibrations every time she tried to move. Feeling someone place a damp towel on her forehead, she fell back onto the bed, feeling the dripping of water down her face, curving its way through the curvatures of her neck. She tried breathing in fresh air, painfully aware of the constant throb in her chest. Her ribs are probably bruised. Something large and solid near her shifted, pulling up a blanket around her chin.

"No," she groaned. "Too hot." The blanket came off. Great, now she was too cold. Life was just not being fair. Turning onto her side, she peered up through watery eyes to try and separate the one haze from another. No luck. Pain clamped its teeth down on her chest so hard that she ended up choking on her own dry coughs. Someone quickly came forward and rubbed her sternum soothingly.

""I feel great. Absolutely dandy." Kagome managed to rasp.

"Be glad you are still alive," the voice answered, rather blankly. "You went through a lot yesterday."

"Y-yesterday?"

"Yes."

Must've stayed here the night… Kagome reflected on that, chewing her bottom lip ruefully. That would explain her dry mouth. But it still didn't explain…

She struggled to get up, pushing back the heavy folds of the blanket with difficulty owing to her non-working eyes. Hoisting herself off the bed with two arms supporting her from behind, she almost collapsed as her legs gave way. Two careful, but firm hands lifted her and placed her back onto the bed.

"Quit that," Kagome grouched. "I'm fine the way I am, leave me alone."

"You can't walk," the voice replied pointedly.

Kagome wiggled around a bit, trying to avoid a pointless answer. Hearing the voice sigh in exasperation, she directed her stubbornly unseeing eyes onto him. "Thanks and all, but I really have to go now."

The voice emitted a noise similar to a snort. "Of course. I was mistaken in keeping you here. A thousand pardons, my lady. Go outside, leave. Enter a marathon while you're at it."

Kagome was miffed. Even though she couldn't properly see his face, she felt he was humoring her. Drat it.

Naraku cocked his head to a side and crossed his legs. Since when did this skinny underfed girl decided to back talk him? He had yet to hear any appreciation in her voice. He wasn't used to people actually defying him. Usually, one look at him was all it took to send most people scrambling over their feet in their haste to run the other way. Then again, it wasn't as if the girl had actually looked at him yet. The night before had been dark, and she hadn't looked directly at him then either. Now, she seemed to be engaged in sharing a heated conversation with his dresser. He tried changing the subject, going ahead with his suspicions.

"Where's your cane?"

"A what?"

"A cane. For getting around. Or a nurse that looks after you?"

"What the hell do you mean," sputtered Kagome. "Why would I need a cane? Do I look that old?" Self-consciously, she patted her face to reassure herself wrinkles hadn't suddenly burst out.

Naraku began to feel the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Something was off, the girl's voice was becoming a bit too shrill. He tentatively probed farther. "You, being in the…condition you are in, cannot possibly have survived all this time by yourself like this. Do you have a dog? Or anyone that helps you get around?"

Kagome froze, realizing what he was trying to ask. "I'm not blind," she said numbly, feeling stupid. That wasn't entirely true; despite all her blinking, her sight still hadn't cleared up. "At least…I wasn't before," she said slowly, numbing shock starting to set in."

Naraku didn't pass by the deadened panic in her voice. "You weren't blind before…?"

Kagome nodded slowly. Somewhere, she heard the dawning comprehension tighten the man's voice. Tightening her hold of the blanket in her hands, her brain faintly registered the fact that the thin fabric was close to being ripped in halves.

"Oh shit," Naraku murmured tiredly, rubbing at his temples.

"Don't curse," replied Kagome weakly, before she sighed and fell back asleep.

.

.

.

"So it's not permanent?"

Shippo wheeled around in his swirling chair, watching the monitor screen flash frames of Naraku's apartment out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, it's just minor retina damage, could come on through some sort of explosion, extreme light, or just overall shock. Stress could also cause it to come on," Shippo said superiorly while playing with two walnut shells.

Naraku's enlarged face showed the face of a man that hadn't slept properly for days as a furious scream ricocheted through his apartment walls. He made sure his inward relief at not having to take care of a permanently blind girl didn't show on his face.

Shippo sweatdropped. "Eh, remind me again why you're keeping this girl?"

Naraku didn't answer; the screen showed an empty kitchen as a frantic Naraku ran off the side of the screen. Toggling a few controls on the complicated expanse of many joined instruments, Shippo was able to bring the pained face of Naraku back into picture.

"Well? Now what?"

"I think she's broken the closet." A shatter brought Naraku wincing. "That would be the mirror."

Shippo rolled his eyes. "You have money. You can pay it off. Here, let me call up your bedroom onto a separate monitor." Propelling himself with his tiny legs to another side of the room, Shippo typed in a few requests, sending the computer humming and another monitor flickering into life. Naraku's voice resounded from behind him.

"You have cameras in my bedroom? That's reassuring."

Shippo ignored the comment. "Ouch. There goes your clock. No wait, that was chair. Oh, now the clock's gone. Ooh, that can't be repaired either…"

The girl having a rampage in Naraku's room suddenly froze, turning slowly to where the source of the small whirring sounds were coming from. Tossing a beat-up digital clock in her hand, she aimed it at the noise.

Another second later, and Shippo found himself staring at a blank screen.

Cursing most eloquently, Kagome kicked at a drawer now missing a handle. No one could understand her! She didn't want to just suddenly wake up in some strange house not able to see! Tripping over a wire stretched across the floor, Kagome fell, banging into one corner of the bed.

Weeping in frustration, she crawled up into a tiny ball and covered herself with the remnants of a blanket. She hated seeing nothing, even though her mind and heart both wished fervently for her sight's return. She felt so vulnerable without it, like a bird unable to fly.

A small 'click' behind her went unnoticed, even when Naraku stepped into the room. Carefully making sure the door was only a couple of feet away from him (in case a quick getaway was needed), he slid down to the floor, back resting against the wall. Watching her sobs reside slightly as she calmed down, Naraku began to speak.

"I really can't have guests behaving like this. Either pick up your manners or I'll be forced to make you leave."

The girl said nothing, still hunched over, half-hidden by the blanket. Her raven-black locks fell in odd strands over her face, hiding it from view.

Studying her throughout the entire silence that followed, Naraku wondered idly what it was that was making him feel strangely light-headed. Some sort of smell permeated throughout the room. Bringing himself just a few inches closer, as much as he dared, he sniffed cautiously. A slim eyebrow arched up as the warm scent of vanilla sugar reached him. Carefully crawling closer with fractional movements, Naraku was able to breathe deep the sweet honeyed smell emanating from both the girl and his bed.

"Don't think you can come and manhandle me just because I'm blind now," a muffled voice said dryly, startling Naraku.

"You're not," said Naraku uncomfortably.

With her face still turned away from him, Kagome winced. He really was out of practice in trying to console someone.

The girl pulled the blanket over her head. "Don't play the friendly doctor and lie. I'm blind for life now!" The saltiness of fresh tears spun into the vanilla sugar scent.

Naraku panicked, somewhat disturbed and foggy-headed by the wafting breeze of honey. "You aren't!" he cried, alarmed at the girl's sniffles. "It's only temporary! I asked Shippo!"

The girl hugged her legs to her chest, un-swayed by his reasonings. "Who's Shippo?" she asked suspiciously. "Was that the thing that was watching me through the camera?"

"Yes, it was the camera! Wait, I mean, no! It was! Wasn't!"

Kagome had to stifle a giggle despite her first disliking of the strangely compelling man. Really, she had overheard him and Shippo on the other side of the room. She really just wanted a way to let out all the frustration and anxiety she had accumulated in the past few days.

Naraku grit his teeth. He had made a total fool of himself unwittingly in front of her again. He didn't think he had ever known a more infuriating person. At least she didn't seem to be mad anymore. Looking at the state of his bedroom, he didn't know if his apartment could survive another onslaught. He didn't even know if -he- could stand another one.

He sighed.

Yanking off the blanket sheet on her, ignoring her squeal as best as he could, he examined her closely. Feeling his eyes on her as the time stretched on, Kagome blushed freely.

"You need new clothes," Naraku stated. She was still wearing the ones he had found her in, which seemed to be the only outfit she owned. They had obviously seen better days, having been scruffed up and ripped during the events that had ran through yesterday.

Kagome crossed her arms protectively over her attire even though her heart rejoiced at the thought of getting new clothes. "I don't have money…" she said mournfully.

Naraku didn't respond, only pointed to the bathroom. "Go take a shower," he ordered, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "You smell like the sewer."

Sticking out her tongue childishly at him, Kagome obeyed, getting to her feet. "It's not you," she said pointedly.

"Pardon?"

"My name. It's not you, or she, or it. It's Kagome." Kagome stuck out her hand, looking expectantly back.

Naraku stared at her, wondering what her bold intentions meant. Deciding all was safe, he replied, "Hiroga. Hiroga Naraku." Placing his hand in hers, his eyes widened as a sudden electric current seemed to travel from the tips of his fingers through his body, electrifying with distance.

Kagome didn't seem to notice the stiff atmosphere. Feeling his hand touch hers, she gave it a resolute shake. But she didn't let go.

Having gotten over the momentary shock at touching her, Naraku arched his eyebrows at the girl hanging onto his arm. "Now what?"

"Seeing as I can't, you'll bring me to the bathroom," Kagome replied stubbornly.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll stink up your home."

"Ah. Good argument. Follow me and don't trip over the floor entering the bathroom. The floor's higher in the bathroom then it is in the bedroom."

Despite the warning, Kagome still managed to fumble her feet along the raised area, almost pulling Naraku over with her tight clasp.

"Chikuso, woman, what are you trying to do, kill me?" exclaimed Naraku exasperatedly. He was starting to wonder when he would be free of the annoyingly troublesome girl.

"Don't curse," Kagome replied, attention on trying to find the doorknob to the bathroom door. Upon feeling the cold metal under her palm, she gave it a twist and stumbled clumsily into the bathroom.

"Towel's in there, so is shampoo!" Naraku called, shrugging off her hold on him and closing the door. "You'll find them."

Kagome growled. Trying to distinguish the difference between the water controls was not a task she wanted to do blindly. If Naraku wasn't going to help, then it wouldn't be her fault if his bathroom flooded. Settling herself with this thought, she undressed and got ready to take a shower, blindly walking in what she supposed was the general direction of the shower.

As Naraku outside made himself a cup of coffee, he heard a scream, and then a thud, as someone tripped over the shower side. Breathing in deep the coffee fumes, Naraku grimaced.

It was going to be a hell of a long day…

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Annoying Author Blurb: Believe it or not, I'm still alive. I'm not the greatest updater; don't know how long next chapter will take. This one was about 45% just rewriting what I had written a long time ago, and then the remaining percentage was newly done. The next one will have to be more new material, I might force Naraku to go shopping, LOL. Inserted a couple of hints and hidden plots, wonder if anyone will find them? Examples of such would be I revealed who the dead man was, who -might- be related to him, a background for someone, etc. etc. ^_^ Guess I'll wait for the reviews and see…

If there's any question with grammar, spelling, etc. please feel free to contact me. Also, I've recently been going searching for betas. Anyone want to give it a try…? My email is elementalspirit125@comcast.net. I've recently just acquired a beta, but would love to have more (I think I'll take up to five)!

Word To The Wise (elementalspirit125): "Now they show you how detergents take out bloodstains, a pretty violent image there. I think if you've got a T-shirt with a bloodstain all over it, maybe laundry isn't your biggest problem. Maybe you should get rid of the body before you do the wash."

Feel free to send any funny 'life' comments you have yourself. They always make my day!