InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Nowhere to Go But Up/Demon in the Basement ❯ What You’d Never Thought to Find in Storage ( Chapter 3 )

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

A/N: All Inuyasha characters and references belong to the creator of Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi and published by Shogakukan. Any other characters are more than likely my own creation. If I borrow directly from another story I will do my best to make sure I give credit where credit is due.

*****

W11.18.15 PM

It was almost 4 o’clock and Kagome was feeling much better. It had indeed turned out to be a beautiful day and she’d opened all the sliding doors onto the back garden. Fresh, slightly chilled air filled the house and sunlight poured in through the large windows. As a precaution against the dirt, she’d changed into old jeans and a sweatshirt, closed the door on her little kitchen apartment and wrapped a cloth mask around her face, outlaw style.

Starting in the front hall by the door, she’d methodically begun sweeping the place out, using her little broom to get into all the corners and grateful that she didn’t have to move any furniture to clean, at least for now. The rooms with stuff left in them were going to be more work, but she’d manage, bit by bit. A pot of boiled water with a little oil soap added had to be changed out for a clean batch several times before she got done scrubbing the floor in the front hall.

When she stopped to dump the fourth bucket of filthy water out in the yard, she sat down on the back steps to rest a moment. Evening was coming on and the light was already half gone. Deciding she’d had enough cleaning for one afternoon, Kagome took her bucket inside, washed up a little and fixed herself some dinner. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that point, but there’d been no time for lunch the way things had been at the shop today, and then when she’d gotten home she’d been a little depressed and only wanted to dive into working on the house.

Since she had the time, she made a small pan of stew with a package of reduced price chopped beef, along with a pan of a dense, sweet bread that she’d learned to make at the elbow of old lady Kaede back in the Edo period. It turned out delicious, and she resolved to prepare a pan of it next time her mom or Souta came out to stay.  

Belly full, she wandered out again to look at her newly cleaned front hall. It still needed work, but it was looking better. She eyed a few places on the plaster where the surface had suffered water damage and sighed. Eventually she’d have to pay someone to come in and fix the walls.

Then she cocked her head to the side thoughtfully and wondered if she could learn to do simple plaster work herself. Kagome made a mental note to look it up online when she had a chance to stop by the library. After all, what was the point of being part of the age of DIY fads and Youtube if you couldn’t save a buck now and then?

With a sigh, she wandered into the sitting room and closed the place up again. The temperature was dropping now that the sun had made serious headway on its trip down to the horizon. Looking in the dimming light at the door on the other side of the sitting room, she decided to do some exploring. Poking her head into the dusty room, she realized the windows in here were draped in thick curtains. The old cloth was falling apart, but it hung in place yet, blocking most of what little light was left.

In the dusk, pulling the curtains open didn’t accomplish much besides raining a cloud of dirt down on her head and she sneezed violently. When she could see straight again, she went back to the kitchen and retrieved her flashlight and several large candles. Knowing her new home would not have power in the near future, she’d been thrilled to find a huge box of both pillared and tapered candles at the same second-hand shop she’d bought her dishes from. The woman at the counter had looked at her like she was nuts when Kagome had been so excited and let her have the whole box for about 1000 yen.

First, Kagome made a point of pulling the dust cloth off of the low desk and moved away anything that could easily catch fire. Then she set up three pillar candles on an old piece of plywood that had been left in the kitchen. The desk was a beautiful piece of furniture that she intended to keep. The last thing she wanted was to get wax or candle burns all over it. That done, she removed the rest of the dust cloths and shook them out in the yard before she folded them and set them aside to be cleaned. The fabric was beautiful and still in halfway decent shape; it had to be worth something.

As she began looking though the books and scrolls in more detail, she found records of several different kinds of business. She couldn’t make sense of all of it, but there seemed information here about everything from livestock and farm yields to banking and loans. Considering the changes in money values over time, she found some of the numbers to be staggering amounts of money, even for back in the day.

Suddenly, she frowned, and looked from the scroll she had in front of her to the ledger books she’d been looking at with the realtor. Taking one of the scrolls and a few of the books, she set them on the desk and moved the candles forward out of the way. Sitting down to examine them in better light, she read through more of it and decided that the same person had certainly scribed both the ledgers and the scrolls. The hand the characters were painted with was elegant and precise. Some looked a bit older than others, but not by too much.

What struck her was that the manner in which the writing was done, the tone of it—the way the scribe used his words and structured his sentences really was very much like what she’d seen 500 years ago. But when she considered the materials used to make these records, she knew without a doubt that there was no way they were that old. Paper and leather simply didn’t last 500 years and look this good. Still frowning a little, she watched the fire light flicker over the aged paper and wondered, ‘so, what is 500-plus-year-old writing doing in books that are only from the late 1800s?’

The latest date she’d found on the ledgers had actually from August of the year 1902. Perhaps there was really something to the story about this house being built by a demon. But what had happened? He must have been old indeed if wrote like this. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that she might never figure it out.

She returned the books and scroll carefully to where she’d found them and blew out the candles. Flashlight in hand, she walked around into the big dining room where there’d been more junk piled against the wall. That demon aura thrummed through her magic as she entered and she paused, floor creaking underfoot. The power seemed to surge and fall, as if trying to pull in a restless breath, failing to do so, then settling again. Once or twice, she’d thought that the feel of this power reminded her a little of Inuyasha, but at the same time… not. She’d dismissed it immediately, not wanting to think about the hanyu.

Kagome’s brows furrowed and she was a little uneasy, but when the energy remained quiet she made her way across the creaking floor to pull the dust covers off the left side of the ‘stuff’ mountain. She shone her light over the big dining table. From what she could see it was still in pretty good shape, but the rotting area rugs would definitely go in a burn pile. That was sad, she thought—as they looked like they’d once been beautiful. Kagome made a mental note to put everything that just needed to be burned in one of the small back bedrooms until she had the time and help to heft it all into the back field and clear a ring of earth for the chore.

Pulling another sheet aside, she found what she was looking for. Kagome studied the weapons rack more critically this time, and wondered what it had been used for. Clearly it was designed to hold half a dozen full sized swords. She poked around in the armoires and didn’t see weapons of any kind. Perhaps they were in the room upstairs? Or maybe whoever left this place behind had taken them away. One of the two men that had bought this house over the years might even have them, despite the realtor’s assurances.

Something was tugging at her magic more and more the longer she stood here, and it was beginning to make her feel itchy, for lack of a better way to describe it. She let her light flow over everything again, wondering what might be causing the feeling. Was the item that powered the protective barrier outside sitting in one of these crates?

Her light glinted off of the nails sealing the wooden boxes tightly closed and she made yet another mental note to ask Mio if there was a pry-bar she might borrow, since she hadn’t seemed to mind lending out the broom. She coughed a little in the cloud of disturbed dust and decided she really needed a good soak before bed. She was filthy and a little chilled. However, just as she was turning to go back to the kitchen that indescribable something tugged at her again, harder, and a glimmer of something caught her eye.

“What?” Kagome asked out loud, as if talking to the strained demon energy. There was a faint glimmer again and she narrowed her eyes. The stray bit of light had come from the floor just under a pile of half-rotten and chewed on zabuton floor pillows. There could be anything from spiders and mice to snakes in stuff like this, hiding from the seasonal temperatures. Cringing a little at all the things she knew were probably there that she didn’t want to touch, she set her flashlight on its side at the end of the dining table.

After she’d pulled her sweatshirt sleeves over her hands, she used one sneakered foot at the base of the stack to push and tug the crumbling pillows aside. Beneath them the floor warped a little in her sight and she narrowed her eyes again. It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at. She hadn’t seen hardly anything in the way of magic in four years, but this was a meshwork of spells that was clearly old and falling apart. No wonder it was throwing sparks in her sight. The magic was on its last legs.

Carefully, Kagome swept a hand across the spell work and the dwindling remains of it disintegrated under her touch, revealing a square trapdoor set into the wooden floor. It was completely flat but for a metal ring lying flat in a space carved out for it. Kagome stared at it for a moment, remembering what the inspector had said about a partial basement beneath the house.

Flashlight in hand again, she knelt down and pulled upwards on the ring. The wood had swollen tight over time, and she hauled on the door a bit harder. With the sound of pinched lumber coming loose, the door finally swung up and suddenly Kagome was tumbling through ten feet of dark open space.

The square frame the door was built into had rotted and the combination of Kagome’s weight and the sudden lack of pressure from the edges of the door caused the rotten wood to crumble like dust. The frame fell to splintered pieces, taking some of the boards around it down as well and Kagome plummeted to a compacted dirt floor with a heavy ‘thump’. She cried out and rolled to the side, covering her face as bits of dirt and wood rained down on her.

Just as she’d opened her eyes again she heard wood grinding against wood and saw the black form of something moving in the faint moon light coming in the dining room windows. Her rattled brain only just registered in time that it was the closest stack of crates, teetering towards the hole where half the floor beneath them had disappeared.

With fearful sound Kagome rolled away to her right, barely in time to avoid being hit when the crates crashed to the ground in the same spot she’d just occupied. More wood splintered, the sound of shattering ceramics cut the air, and clouds of dust flew. Kagome lay curled up in a ball, listening hard for anything else that might try to kill her in the next ten seconds.

When all was silent, she rolled slowly onto her back, trying to catch her breath. The air had been knocked from her lungs and she lay there for a minute, waiting for the world to make sense again. Slowly, she took stock of herself as she sat up. “Oooowwww…” she muttered, wincing as she rolled one shoulder. She’d landed a little harder on one side and as she got to her feet she inventoried an ache in her left hip and a sharper pain in her left shoulder. Working the protesting joint a little, she glanced around in the dark and found her flashlight. The plastic torch had rolled away against a rough stone wall and was still on, shining in the gloom.

After checking that nothing else was about to come down on her head, she bent down with another wince and retrieved the light so she could have a look around. “Well,” she muttered to herself, “I found the basement… I guess.”

The first things she saw were the contents of the fallen crates, thrown across the uneven dirt floor. There was smashed white crockery and packing straw everywhere. There were several other items that looked like they might be knives of varying lengths, some bare and some in leather sheathes. Swinging her light wider she saw a broken wood case they must have been in and counted herself lucky she hadn’t been damaged worse.

“Right,” she said, muttering to herself again. “Because if you’re going to fall into an old basement, why not do it with a crate of sharp objects coming down after you? If you’re gonna do the thing, might as well do it right...”

A little aggravated with the whole situation, she shined the light up at the hole in the dinning room floor and asked the house in general, “you wanna send the table down next?” Coughing a few times, she realized she sounded ridiculous, and that she was lucky she wasn’t seriously hurt. This would have been one of those emergencies her mother had talked about. Wait… phone…

Feeling a little panicked, Kagome felt around her pockets for her phone and sighed in relief when she found it. The screen lit up obligingly and informed her it still had an 88% charge. So… how to get out without calling someone to drive more than an hour out here to rescue her…. The odds were good her mother wouldn’t even be able to find the turn off to the house in the dark.

She looked around and didn’t see a way out at first. There was a trap door, so there had to be… yes, there it was. Her light found a sturdy old step ladder laying on its side in the dirt. That solution available, she took a moment now to look around the space more carefully.

Most of the room was stacked full of more wooden trunks and cases of varying descriptions from about the size of an average moving box to crates that were big enough to store half a dozen bodies in. ‘Noooo Kagome,’ she thought. ‘No bodies, let’s not go there while in the dark, creepy secret basement alone.’

Sweeping her light around, the beam disappeared as it passed over what looked like the entrance to a tunnel in the stone. Another way out? It might be nice not to have to climb out onto a weak floor. Picking her way across the broken dishes and wood, she slowly entered the dark hallway. The stone walls were rougher here and it only lead about 10 feet before it ended in a heavy wood door. After some pulling and shoving, she resigned herself to the fact that it was either firmly bolted in place from the outside, or it required the strength of someone much bigger than she to move it.

The first thing she did was pull the ladder up and lean it against the wall, establishing that it was stable enough she could reasonably call it her escape plan. Having determined she wouldn’t have to make that embarrassing phone call to her mother, she turned back to the piles of crates. Now that this no longer felt like a crisis, she was curious about what might be buried down here under a secret door.

She fished a solid-looking knife out of the mess on the floor. It was about ten inches long and had a wide, thick base to the blade; so she reasoned she might be able to get some of the smaller crates open with it. Sure enough, the sharp tip slid in easily beneath the lid of the first crate she tried and she hauled up on one corner.

It took some doing, but she worked the lid loose and found, of all things, more knives; all of it carefully packed in straw and silk wrapping. There were also three short swords in the bottom of the box. Kagome had come across a great many weapons over the years, and knew immediately that these were not for use on a battle field, but more likely treasured status pieces. They were beautiful, made of metals like nothing she’d ever seen. Many of them had inlaid artwork or carved designs, several of which seemed to emphasize a crescent moon shape. One was even made of a gorgeous green-tinted glass with a silver hilt and wire inlay.

Kagome carefully packed them back in the straw and opened several more crates. In one she found beautiful ceramic pieces, carefully packed in straw and silk, just as the knives had been. Another, small crate was lined in soft, crushed velvet padding and contained two dozen precious gems and a small box containing what Kagome hesitated to believe were diamonds. A third crate held books and scrolls of a much finer quality than what she’d found upstairs, several of which she could immediately sense were texts of magic. Another crate contained clothing, predominantly kimonos that had been tailored for a tall man with broad shoulders. Folded at the bottom of the crate though, Kagome found several beautiful women’s kimonos that were practically works of art, and they were so soft...

She stood, running her hands through the silk of a pale ivory kimono with pink blossoms spilling over the cloth, little lavender colored birds flying among them, and she wondered who on earth these things had belonged to. Why had such beautiful things just been sealed under the floor and left here? How much of this stuff was like what she’d found already?

Having sifted through the contents of several crates, she shined her flashlight on what had to be another two dozen containers, easily. And according to the paperwork she’d signed, it was all hers. But in the next moment she knew it didn’t feel right. These treasures weren’t hers. She could badly use the money, but at the same time, surely these things should belong to the decedents of whatever lord or master had left them behind. Maybe she could do some research and try to figure it out. If she couldn’t find anything, then she’d keep what she wanted and sell the rest, knowing she’d tried.

Shining her light into the box of precious stones again, she thought surely this trove was what the strange demon in her driveway had referred to. Muttering to herself again, she said, “interesting, to say the least...” But how had that man known any of this was here? The real estate holding company didn’t even know this was here, or they would have had it in their coffers before the sale, surely-- rules be damned. People in general just weren’t THAT noble.

The demon in the snazzy suit had said his client knew the original owner. So, that had to mean there was a demon-- of an age minimum of 520 years or so, that was highly interested in what she had in her possession. If that demon had wanted this stuff so badly, why hadn’t they bought the house themselves? Kagome let out a low groan of frustration and closed the lid of the crate before her. She’d moved out here because she wanted things to be less complicated. This was NOT less complicated.

With a sigh, she shifted a few crates aside, counting, but stopped when her flashlight caught on a bit of something almost white on the stone wall. Moving several more crates, she found it was a patch of wall with a different kind of stone… she thought. She couldn’t be sure. It looked like it might be quartz of some kind, but it had thin veins of faded green color creeping through it. The thrum of power swelled again and Kagome sucked in a breath, realizing this bit of wall was not a wall, but more magic-- a spelled construct made by the same hand as the glamour that had so long ago been cast on the trapdoor.

The edges shimmered weakly in her other-sight and it was evident that this thing was only in slightly better shape than the glamour had been. Cautiously, she reached out to touch it, her own magic brushing against the crystalline surface. Just as with the ragged, time-worn magic upstairs, it deteriorated before her eyes, crumbling to a fine substance like stardust and glinting cobwebs in her hand. She dropped the strange stuff immediately and pulled her dirty sweatshirt over her nose so she didn’t breathe any of it into her lungs. Best to be safe-- you just never knew with someone else’s magic… even weak, old magic.

There was a hollow carved out in the bedrock, creating a space that had been covered over and hidden, first by the spell construct, then by pointedly piled crates and trunks. Kagome narrowed her eyes, squinting into the dark-- then remembered she had a flashlight in her hand and shown it into the space.

Her eyes widened and she let the sweatshirt fall from her face, frozen in place. Something… no… someone… was in the alcove. This someone sat on a heavy, ornately carved chair made of dark wood. This chair was also coated in magic, and also failing.

Kagome held her breath for a long minute, but the someone didn’t move. Was he dead? ‘oh gods don’t let it be a dead guy…’ she thought, feeling squeamish. The someone-- she thought it might be a man, did nothing to indicate life, let alone conscious awareness of her presence. In fact, like so much of the basement’s contents, he was coated in stone dust. For half a second she re-examined what she was looking at to be sure he wasn’t just a statue.  

She frowned, studying what looked like long white or gray hair falling from beneath a wide hood. The figure was wearing some kind of long-sleeved, hooded shift or robe. Nothing could be seen of his face but a strong chin and part of his mouth.

Kagome bit down on her lip as she noticed that the figure DID seem to be breathing, but only barely. Whatever it was, it was alive. Was that better than dead? She couldn’t be sure, as of yet. Then she hated herself for the thought. Of course it was better that he wasn’t dead, right? Right? She swallowed hard, thinking, ‘as long as it’s not something that wants to eat you-- sure.’

Keeping her light off his face, she let the beam move over him and paused when it revealed long, clawed fingers resting on the arms of the chair he was slouched in… Oh yes-- she’d found a demon, if not THE demon. She wanted to groan. This was SO not less complicated.

The figure’s legs, what little she could see of them, were covered in pants dusted the same gray as everything else, his feet covered in dirty black leather-- worn, and deteriorating like everything else.

“Um… hello?” Kagome asked, tone soft and hesitant. She swallowed again, part of her wanting to squeak and run, but she couldn’t just leave this guy down here. Her good judgment tore at its hair and railed at her that this was not smart. But something deep inside pushed that little voice away, reminding her that whatever it was she’d found, it felt familiar, and not inherently evil. This was the person that belonged to the demon aura that had sunk into the very soil of this property-- but he wasn’t meant to be like this. He wasn’t well. She knew that, somehow, just as she knew that the sky was blue and love was good.

The facts were: he was here, and she was here, and clearly he wasn’t doing so hot. She couldn’t just walk away. So Kagome moved in closer to investigate. Maneuvering around the side of a big crate, she thought absently of the time she’d run into the unconscious Inuyasha, pinned under a holy arrow to the Goshinboku tree. ‘Only this time,’ she thought. ‘I get to do it without a monster breathing down my neck… hopefully.’

Then she froze again in the wake of another realization. She’d felt that thrumming, pulsing power before, when she’d touched the spelled arrow and Inuyasha had woken from the magic holding him in stasis. Was this man waking up? Had she caused him to wake up… somehow? The spells had already decayed to almost nothing before she’d found them. What had the person who’d laid the magic down all those years ago meant for it? Was he never supposed to wake up? Was there perhaps a good reason they’d had entombed this man here?

The thought unnerved her, but she summoned her courage, acknowledging that it was too late for doubts now. His shoulders shifted just slightly with shallow, slow breathing. Cautiously, she whispered, “can you hear me?”

****

There was another magic, another power tugging at his own… he heard a voice… it was female… His chest ached, as if there were bands around him that would not allow him to fully inflate his lungs. More air was needed, but he couldn’t make it happen. Vaguely, he was aware that the female creature drew closer to him, and that she smelled like raw vanilla and fresh water… and dust… why did everything smell like stone and dust?

His head buzzed and pounded, and though he could hear the female creature speaking, he couldn’t make sense of her words. It was all just noise. He couldn’t focus properly… something in him flared in response to the slow realization that the female creature possessed miko power… and she was coming closer. What exactly did she think she was doing? If she intended to purify him she would find in short order that she was about to meet the end of her life. But he couldn’t move… limbs unresponsive, as if they’d been turned to lead in his absence.

Slowly his awareness of his surroundings became less fractured, though he still couldn’t quite get his eyes open, or move his mouth. He was still fighting for each breath as he rose from the bottom of the ocean that was his self-imposed coma. It had been a frustrating and aggravating necessity in his condition-- but it seemed his time asleep had finally ended.

The female creature came closer still, her scent profile becoming clearer. Inside himself, he frowned, confused. This female smelled familiar in some way, but he couldn’t identify her. His brain was filled with fog and he still fought with oxygen deprivation. Throwing his all into it, he managed to pull in deeper breaths, gripping the arms of his chair harder as he forced his muscles into movement after long, long years of disuse.

****

Kagome’s brow furrowed when she detected a quiet, rasping sort of sound as the figure worked to suck air into his lungs. She didn’t know what she could do for him and hated the helpless feeling. If it was a human being she could call for emergency medical services, but what could they do for him? And how would she even explain the situation? ‘Yes, hello, I found a man tucked away in my basement and I think he might have been here for years and years. He’s having a little trouble breathing, can you send someone out?’…. yeah… right.

Her eyes widened as his clawed hands moved just a little. It wasn’t huge, but he was squeezing the arms of his chair so hard that the wood was cracking. Long furrows were scored into the surface where his claws cut into it and the wood hissed as if it had been burned, the edges of the gouges turning black.

Okay, she thought… so it’s likely he’s poisonous… that’s just fantastic… because why not? Right? She swallowed hard and decided if he wasn’t totally awake yet, he was definitely no longer deeply asleep. She paused where she was and didn’t come any closer, waiting patiently. After all, it normally took her some time to wake up in the morning, and she imagined having experienced what looked like a Rip Van Winkle-quality nap probably took some time to come out of. She waited another minute or two, giving him that time before she tried contact again.

****

Her fear and nerves flooded his nose and served to wake him faster, singing in his blood. He was so hungry that it clawed at his insides and fear meant prey.

But as her scent hit his brain again, his slowly rising sense of reason tempered the thought… the female creature was afraid, yet she lingered so close. If he’d had proper control of his body he could have torn her to shreds by now, easily. Was she stupid? Did she think him harmless? Could she not smell the eminent threat he posed? This demon was a predator of the highest order, and a creature with any sense would know it.

He was sooo hungry. He’d known going in that this would be the case when he woke, but how long had it been? There was no way to know for certain yet, but he was sure it was longer by far than he’d intended. That witch would answer for it… once he tracked her down. She’d been warned of the consequences if her work was anything other than exactly what he’d agreed to.

The female creature moved again before him, coming a little closer. He could hear her uneven breathing and he finally managed to push his eyes open. That alone was all his efforts could manage just yet, and he could see only the dusty fabric covering his lap, and something hanging… was that his hair? It was the wrong color. It was filthy.

The female spoke, and her voice was quiet… and like her scent, familiar-- but his brain was still grinding its gears too hard to restart basic functions to locate the information. Did he know her? What was she saying? Why was she talking to him?

****

She’d finally come closer to the chair and bent down, hands on her knees. Still, she couldn’t see his face through all the dusty, dirty hair hanging in his lap. You never knew with demons… hopefully he had a face. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d run into a demon without one. That idea made her feel squeamish again and she banished it quickly.

Kagome murmured nervously, half to herself as she watched him work to breathe. She was trying to psych herself up-- convince herself she was braver than she really was. “Pleeeeaaaase don’t let this be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done… don’t make me regret this…”

Reaching slowly forward, she gently brushed her fingers against his hand, asking, “what can I do to help? What’s your name?”

Very, very slowly, his head tilted, chin rising just slightly… as if he wanted to look up but his neck wouldn’t bend properly. The figure let out a low, ragged sound of pain and Kagome sank to sit on her heels, kneeling in front of him so they could see each other easier. Then she gasped in shock. Of all the things she might have expected, it hadn’t been this.

****

Clenching his teeth so hard it made his jaw ache, he managed to move his head a little, his neck and shoulders feeling as if they were made of stone. The female had touched him, and her flesh felt warm against his icy fingers. She moved again, coming down low so that he could just see her beyond his knees. He got the impression of dark hair and pale skin, large soft brown eyes… eyes that made him think absently of Rin… but that didn’t make sense. He knew this wasn’t Rin. It wasn’t her face, and besides that-- his beloved human charge had lived a long life and passed away peacefully many, many years before.

No. Not Rin. But this human-- for that’s what she was-- DID smell familiar. He shoved at his sluggish mind… something was there… something associated with his whelp of a half brother… but he couldn’t catch hold of it yet. Trying to order his thoughts was nearly impossible.

The whole world felt disjointed and pain was settling into his body with a vengeance. His chest and throat especially felt raw and something was in the way, preventing him from getting the air he desperately needed. The potions…. The witch had been meant to leave elixirs within his reach for the time when he awoke; to ease his transition back into the conscious world after the stasis magic. Had she done what she’d promised? Where were they… recall was slow; she’d said something about his left side.

The female creature’s heart beat faster now-- it beat like prey, and it was distracting. He had some control over his face and hands now, and he felt the urge to snap like an animal at her wrist when she reached towards him. This little female was brave, and incredibly stupid… but then she said his name… and her lips spoke it with true concern and recognition. The beast that lived in him paused at the sound.

****

Kagome couldn’t believe it when rich golden eyes glinted at her in the gloom of the basement. She knew those eyes, and the dark red slashes of color that marked the high cheek bones. Her heart squeezed almost painfully as she recognized him. Softly, she said his name. “Oh… gods, Sess…Sesshomaru?”

She reached forward, slowly, so that he saw her coming. Kagome knew well enough that it was an iffy thing when it came to a demon that was injured or panicked-- no sudden movements. He was focused on her, but she couldn’t tell if he remembered her or not. After all, she reasoned, it had been a much longer time for him since they’d last seen one another than it had been for her -- and though they’d fought against, as well as alongside each other, they’d never exactly been buddies.

She pushed the hood back from his head, careful not to let dust fall in his face. Her brows furrowed when she noted his face was tight with pain, his skin more pale and gray than she’d ever seen it-- and coated with a sheen of sweat. Her gut hadn’t been wrong. He was not well… and not terribly pleased with the situation, she thought. His mouth pulled into a grimacing snarl, fangs clearly displayed. She remembered too well what this man looked like when he was about to kill you, but she’d NEVER seen him like this.

He almost never looked this feral unless he was already in the process of shifting into a giant war dog. She knew a moment of panic at that thought. What if he changed on instinct? He’d take the entire house out! But no… he didn’t look like he was changing… surely that took an enormous amount of energy and he couldn’t possibly have it. He could barely move.

Struggling for a full breath herself purely out of nerves, she said slowly, “relax… it’s Kagome… remember me?”

****

Kagome.... Inside himself he frowned. Did he remember a Kagome?

He did, but how did she know him? And how did his whelp brother figure into it? He had vague memories of traveling with this woman and the hanyu’s other weird mix of pack mates-- only she’d been a bit younger, and she’d carried a bow. She’d worn very strange clothes… and even then she’d smelled good, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

But that was impossible. Those events had taken place centuries ago. That woman should have been long dead; little more than dried bone deep in the earth. It couldn’t be the same woman, and yet his nose told him that it was. That woman had also been a miko, and the power signature he sensed in her matched the one in his memory. Kagome knelt in front of him now, looking only slightly older than the last time they’d crossed paths-- during their final battle against the abomination that had called itself Naraku… Perhaps that confounded witch had addled his mind.

Damp with sweat, his breathing was coming easier-- if still labored, and this Kagome was talking to him again. His mind was finally starting to string words together in a way that meant something. She asked what she could do to help… why did she want to help him?

He was loath to bare his throat to anyone, but with another low, involuntary groan he managed to straighten his spine, bringing his head back against the chair in an attempt to rid his bones of the intense stiffness and kinks that resulted from too many years with no movement.

Kagome cringed as she watched his pained attempt to move, the sound of distress something she never would have imagined could come from this particular demon. She’d seen him take grievous injuries and never do more than grunt in irritation. Now his chest positively heaved as he sucked in air and tried simply to sit up straight. His fangs were bared again and dust fell from his shoulders.

His was voice was not the smooth baritone she remembered, but a rough and gravely thing when he managed to mutter a single word. “Flask…”

She frowned and followed his line of sight to his left hand, which thumped the arm of the chair in such a way that her attention was drawn to a small wooden box on the floor next to him. Quickly, she moved to one side and saw that the box was carved with the same tired magic symbols she saw on the chair. When she touched the surface, those symbols sparked in reaction to her own energy, but then the degraded power died and disappeared. She pulled the lid away to find two small, ancient glass bottles—one green glass and one brown clay, which she removed and held up to him. He seemed to recognize them and gestured stiffly at the brown one with a black cork in the top.

Knowing he likely couldn’t muster the fine motor skills just yet, she pulled the cork (with some difficulty) from the bottle and held it out for him. The demon had to flex his hand several times before he could grasp it, but then brought it to his mouth and swallowed the contents. Sesshomaru bent forward, then turned his head into his shoulder and coughed viciously for a moment before he hacked up something and spat it to the side.

Kagome winced with sympathy. Whatever he’d just coughed up, it sounded painful. Peering around the arm of the chair, she saw a thin chain laying in the dirt with several slightly bloody stone beads on it. What that was all about… she could only guess.

After he took a short breather, he looked at the remaining green glass bottle and she grabbed one of the small knives from a nearby crate to open it for him. This one was stopped up with white wax and she sunk the blade into it carefully, pulling the stopper out before she handed it over. Whatever it was smelled foul and she wrinkled her nose as he drank it down.

Sesshomaru closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. For the moment just breathing was enough work. He understood now why the witch had insisted he’d need the potions when he finally woke. The first concoction had bound itself to the magic of the stones he’d held in the bottom of his throat, allowing him to expel them. The second solution shot through his system like fire, and if he didn’t feel good, at least he felt like he might soon be able to manage basic functions like standing upright. He’d never felt so incapable in all his life.

Kagome leaned one shoulder against the stack of crates next to her, arms crossed, waiting patiently again. She was relieved when he finally seemed to be breathing easier. The sound was still raspy, but he wasn’t panting anymore. After nearly a full five minutes he eyed her, as if taking her measure, and looked around the room. Then, with no warning he pushed himself up onto his feet, grabbing for the wall to hold himself vertical.

This sort of worked, but his legs didn’t seem to lock properly yet and he started to go down. Kagome jumped forward, easily fitting her shoulder under his. As she did her best to prop him up, he loosed a low, rumbling growl, as if to put her off. At the same time his arm came around her, his hand squeezing at the opposite shoulder-- the one she’d landed on badly when she’d fallen down here. She let out a pained cry and quickly said, “ouch! Hang onto me but don’t squeeze… Sorry, I’m still as breakable as I ever was compared to you guys.”

Sesshomaru’s grip loosened and she felt a wave of relief. This was for two reasons: firstly, his vice-like hold on an already tenderized bit of flesh and joint was excruciating; and secondly he clearly was not yet in full control of himself. Even at half-strength or less he could likely crush her bones easily without meaning to. Once she braced herself properly under him they stood there like that for a second, both of them getting their bearings. Kagome had forgotten how tall he was, a good six to eight inches taller than his younger brother… who was already a few inches taller than her.

Thinking of Inuyasha made her heart hurt, as it always did, and she closed her eyes for a moment to forcefully clear her mind. Then the effort was shot to hell as another thing occurred to her. Sesshomaru was here, in her time. Inuyasha would be here too, maybe… unless he’d died before now. That notion led to a plethora of thoughts that could have enough weight to cripple her, and one got through the net before she could stop it.

If Inuyasha was alive and well in her time, why hadn’t he come to find her?

But she knew the answer to that, didn’t she, even if she tried not to believe it. He hadn’t wanted her around back then. Why would he want her now? Inuyasha had used the jewel to shut down the temporal tear in the Bone Eater’s Well for good; to send her home and destroy the connection. Heck, he might have been able to rid himself of his human blood to boot. She didn’t know. She hadn’t been there to find out.

For now she shied away from the whole. Now, she had Sesshomaru to deal with, and one problem demon at a time was enough for any girl. Sesshomaru, for his part, found himself breathing in her scent as she helped him stabilize himself. He despised both his need for the assistance as well as her ready supply of it, but he didn’t know how to get around any of that at the moment. Having her so close to him flooded his head with a collection of smells that were unique to Kagome.

There was that rich undertone of raw vanilla and the scent of moving water and rain clouds. He could smell the dirt she was covered in, as well as sweat and… his eyes narrowed slightly as he analyzed the parts of her scent attached to emotion. She was in pain, and extremely sad, or angry… or both? He couldn’t be sure, it was shifting so quickly. More importantly, why did he care even one iota? It wasn’t something he generally bothered to notice most of the time in any human.

“Okay…” Kagome said, glancing around and trying to figure out what their options were. She nodded to a place several feet away where three large crates formed a triad he might lean against. “How about we get that far, then I have to go put the steps up-- they’re still laying on the floor. I sort of took the quick way down. Okay?”

After a measure of consideration, he nodded once and they shuffled forward like a drunken, mismatched entry in a three-legged race. He grabbed onto the tallest crate and had to adjust his hold, as the wood began to splinter under his fingers. Kagome’s shoulder twinged at the memory of his uncontrolled grab at it, and she counted herself lucky she’d taken no real damage. Once he was half sitting/half leaning she let go of him and turned to the ladder.

It creaked as she pulled it onto its feet with the top against the ragged hole in the floor above, but when she tested it the thing seemed sturdy enough. She climbed up and tested the edges of the hole, ripping away any of the wood that was soft and rotten so they wouldn’t wind up tumbling down all over again. Thankfully, this didn’t widen the hole too much, and from what she could tell, the rest of the floor would hold them. At least, this was what she told herself.

Kagome turned around on the steep step ladder and looked at Sesshomaru, trying to estimate how much heavier he might be than her. With the density of demon bones and muscle it was hard to tell. With a sigh, she climbed stiffly down to the compacted dirt floor and came back over to him. She chewed her lip for a moment, then asked, “can you manage this? There’s a door on the far side over there, but I can’t get it open… unless you know a trick to it.”

Deep gold eyes glimmered at her, catching a little of the glow from her flashlight where it stood on its end nearby, doing what it could to illuminate the dark space. Dimly, he looked around and realized for the first time how dark it was, despite the fact that the door to the dining room was open. Check that last-- he thought, glancing at it again. The door was gone. What had she done to his house? This all came together slowly and drifted away again before he could really hold onto it as he thought out loud to himself. “It’s night.”

Kagome blinked for a second, then said, “yes, it is.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and woke the screen to see the time. Sesshomaru cringed, closing his eyes against the flare of sudden, bright, cold light, and she put the screen back to sleep, feeling guilty for not considering the discomfort it would cause. “Sorry… it’s half past 6 p.m.”

“Date…” he muttered, demanding the information, rather than asking for it.

“It’s Wednesday, November 18, 2015. How long have you been down here? What happened?” She asked.

Sesshomaru frowned, trying to keep his brain in gear long enough to do the math. It took three attempts before he was able to figure out that this meant he’d been in his self-imposed stasis for 113 years. He shook his head and growled under his breath in aggravation. Something had to have gone wrong with the magic. The witch had told him that it would take no longer than 20 years at the most to heal himself completely.

She’d said it could be done, but that it would take time, and all his power and energy reserves to save his life from his toxic wound. It took a great deal of very virulent poison to overcome his general immunity to such things. Unfortunately, it was just his luck that he’d come up against another demon that had possessed such a weapon-- a true beast among monsters. He’d won his battle, but he’d not come away without a nearly lethal wound. Had he not gone to ground in such a way with the help of healing spell work, he’d have been slowly killed by the toxins the creature’s spines had left in his back.

20 years-- the witch had lied or been wrong-- either way, she was in all probability beyond his reach where punishment was concerned. He seethed for a moment about that, then realized Kagome was staring at him. His mind had wandered. Sesshomaru shook himself mentally and tried to focus on the task at hand. He was still in the subterranean room beneath his home. Other than that, he knew little of anything… except that he was ravenous on a level far beyond anything he could ever remember feeling in the past. His stomach felt as if it were eating itself alive.

“I need to eat,” he said, having completely ignored her questions.

Kagome nodded once and muttered, “I bet you do.” Then she continued, “do you want me to fix you something and bring it down here or can you make it upstairs first? I don’t have much of anything that can be eaten as is, I’m afraid. Not much in the way of leftovers. Will some fruit and cereal hold you over long enough to get you cleaned up?” She remembered well how much Inuyasha had eaten when he’d been injured. Healing the way they did ate up a lot of calories.

As he nodded, she realized she had a whole new problem. He was filthy. How was she supposed to get him all the way down past the field? “The bath tubs aren’t usable right now, but I can heat some water for you to wipe down with until you’re strong enough to go down to the spring.”

Sesshomaru shook his head. Absently, he wondered what was wrong with his bath tub, but the thought was gone as fast as it came. Rather than explaining anything he pushed himself to his feet again. Kagome stepped into him immediately, despite the chilly look he gave her, and helped him to the step ladder. The powerful solution the witch had left him was working its way through his system, but while wasn’t leaning so heavily on her now, he still grudgingly admitted he wasn’t fully capable of walking on his own yet.

The steps were wide enough that, with her arm around his waist and his about her shoulders, they worked their way slowly to the top. He’d slipped twice and Kagome could only just manage to pull him tight against her and the ladder long enough for him to get his feet under him again. The second time this had happened he’d let out a low, angry growl. It had been directed at no one in particular, but it had just about stopped her heart all the same, considering her current proximity to his fangs.

Finally Kagome stepped onto the first floor, leaving him clinging to the ladder until she could turn about and catch him under the arms, pulling him sideways and then backwards to sit on the busted floor. He barely registered the extent of the damage to the trap door… or rather, the total lack of a door remaining.

She sat down next to him for a second to catch her breath, panting slightly from the exertion. When she noticed him watching her she rolled her eyes and muttered, “what? You’re heavy.”

Sesshomaru didn’t respond. Instead, he worked his hands and leaned back on his arms, flexing the muscles a few times before he managed to pull himself backwards across the floor. He did this for a few feet before he rolled onto aching knees. Kagome got to her feet and came over, offering him a hand. He ignored it at first, but finally decided that at this point his dignity could hardly be more affected and took her offer. She slid her arm down his to grasp his elbow and he did the same with her.

Bracing herself carefully, she pulled as hard as she could to compensate for his weakened leg muscles, and he was on his feet again, looming over her by what had to be a full foot. Quickly, she worked herself in under his shoulder again and they shuffled their way to the kitchen. Kagome shoved the doors open and looked around. There was nowhere to sit but the bed, and she wasn’t excited about dumping this filthy demon into her clean blankets. She’d do it if she had to, but… “Can you sit on the counter over there? I don’t have any chairs yet.”

Sesshomaru started moving that direction and she stood there in case he needed her while he pulled himself onto the sturdy old wooden work surface. That done, she went back to close the kitchen doors, keeping the heat in, and tossed a few new logs on the fire.

“Okay… food,” she said, turning back to him. The first thing she did was give him the remains of the sweet bread and the little bit of stew that was left from her own dinner. While he devoured that, he watched her pour a large bowl of dried grain meal of some kind into a dish and cut an apple over it. Then she mixed some kind of white powder that smelled strangely of milk with a little water from the pump and poured it into the bowl as well. Once she’d stuck a metal tool into the mess, she put it in his lap.

Sesshomaru stared at it for a second before he glanced up at her, doubtfully. Kagome sighed and put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do at the moment. I have to run to the store. I can be back in an hour with something more substantial.”

Watching him try to handle the spoon, she realized he might never have used a western style eating utensil before, and wondered again just how long he’d been in the basement covered in dust. It was beyond weird to think that all this time she’d been in the house he’d been right there beneath her feet. Rather than correct him, she made herself a small bowl of cereal and powdered milk as well, just a small serving, and ate it in front of him. This allowed her to show him how to use the spoon, and not make him feel like an idiot… which she was sure someone like Sesshomaru would not respond well to on his best day.

Sure enough, he watched her and had it worked out in moments. Working the pump for some water, Kagome cleaned her face and hands, brushed her long hair out and tied it back again. A glance in the mirror told her she was as presentable as she was going to get without a bath and she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. Having forgotten about that problem, she winced and shifted her bag to the other shoulder, just managing not to make a sound in pain. Now that she thought about it, her hip was a bit tender as well, and she lay a hand on the aching spot as she looked around the room, muttering, “keys… keys….where are…”

Then she saw them sitting on the trunk by her mirror and grabbed them. The jingling sound reminded her she should probably check something. Recalling the dates on the ledgers, she asked, “what year was it when you went to sleep down there? 1902, 1903?”

Sesshomaru looked mildly surprised, but nodded once and she smiled a little, calculating the years. “Boy, you guys do it right if you’re going to be out of it… okay, have you seen a car? An automobile?”

She knew they’d been around at that time, but couldn’t remember exactly when they’d become more common place in Tokyo. Slowly, Sesshomaru frowned, then nodded slowly. It took him a moment to remember the stinking, loud, obnoxious machines. He’d only seen them a handful of times, and he’d been glad to leave them behind when he’d built this house. But what did that have to do with anything?

Kagome held up the ring with several bits of metal on it. “I have one, but they’re a lot different now than they used to be. It’s noisy. You’ll hear it start up out there, and you’ll hear it when I come back, okay? Just, please stay here until I get back. I’ll have more food and we can talk.”

As he watched her walk out the door, he thought, ‘where would I go? This is MY house.’

What was she doing here anyway? And just how exactly did she think she was in a position to give him orders? He was too hungry and out of it to get worked up just now, but if she kept it up he’d have to straighten out any preconceived notions she had about her personal authority where he was concerned.