InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sachi ❯ Black Queen ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter 9

Kagome stepped into the kitchen from out on the porch, shivering and pulling the door firmly shut behind her. She cupped her freezing fingers over her mouth and puffed on them, having completed her most recent attempt at hanging the laundry outside. Ever since the snow had started, mean temperatures in the mountains had been getting colder by the day, and she was finding that the only time to hang the laundry effectively was mid-morning, so that everything dried before temperatures started dropping again around late afternoon. Not too long now, and she would have to resort to using the Sachi’s imported dryer to make sure everything dried without freezing.

“Almost done, Shippou?” She called out cheerfully to the tiny body on the appliance side of the kitchen.

The response she got was little more than a scowl and a few unintelligible mumbles that, for some reason, reminded her of InuYasha.

The kitsune was scrubbing furiously at the floorboards with a suds-covered cloth, his puff of a tail sticking into the air and bouncing with each vigorous swipe. She noted where he was, noted the dirty water in the bucket behind him, and found herself impressed. What he lacked in reach he’d made up for in pure energy, and--despite the constant stream of grumbles falling from his mouth--had managed to cover most of that side of the floor in the time it had taken her to hang today’s small load on the lines out back.

She grinned and stepped over to the countertop in the center of the room. “Everything is looking good. After you’re done here, we can start on the hallway in front of the baths. For some reason, that part of the floor is always dirty.”

A groan sounded from the kitsune and his arms stopped their determined swipes as his shoulders slumped. His head hung for a moment, then he pushed off all fours to sit on his heels and gave her a pathetic look. “But Kagome…. I’ve already spent all morning washing this half of the kitchen floor, and I still have to help Kaede with the dusting. And on top of all that, Miroku gave me another one of those stupid problems to solve. Can’t I just be done for the day?”

She could feel the sympathy filter into her expression as she stared down at him. “Well….”

Sincere green eyes rounded and blinked at her. “Please?”

She bit her lip, considering his request. He had been working really hard for the past few days.

It had been ridiculously easy to find the kitsune after the initial confusion of what had become known as “the glue incident”. After all (as Miroku had pointed out after dragging him back into the Sachi by his tail) if one was going to hide as a tree, one should probably try to do it using something that was actually native to the area in which one was hiding. And, unfortunately for Shippou, palm trees were not native to the area.

As for his punishment….

The immediate consequences had been several large, painful lumps on his head courtesy of the Sachi’s infuriated owner. (It was a generally agreed upon fact that hiding had been the wisest thing the little kitsune had done, because had InuYasha gotten hold of him before the bath that muted most of the vinegar smell from his body, the lumps wouldn’t have been the only physical reprimand being handed out that day.) Following some deliberation among the adults, Shippou had then been given a choice: he could either help Kagome with the floors every day for as long as it took him to appreciate the extraordinary amount of work that went into keeping a place as large as the Sachi clean, or….

He could spend exactly one week helping InuYasha with his tasks around the Sachi.

After one glance at the thoroughly irate hanyou, Shippou had chosen Kagome.

Miroku, for his part as an uninjured and basically un-inconvenienced party to the whole mess, had decided that Shippou had entirely too much time on his hands, and had taken to giving him a problem of either math or logic to solve by the end of each day. So, for the past couple of days, poor Shippou had been dashing about the Sachi’s halls--still running his previously imposed duties for Kaede, scrubbing at the Sachi’s floors, and avoiding, if at all possible, the Sachi’s owner. And all the while, a constant mumbling accompanied him as he alternated between figuring and complaining under his breath.

The part that impressed Kagome the most about all this was that he always managed to solve the problem. He’d said his father was a genius, but she hadn’t realized how smart Shippou really was until only recently.

Now, staring at the small kitsune whose entire body had suddenly devoted itself to begging for her mercy, she sighed. “I suppose I can do it later.” Shippou’s wretched expression morphed into a delighted smile, and she had to struggle not to smile in return. “But you still have to finish drying,” she added in the sternest voice she could muster. “I have to start lunch soon.”

He nodded eagerly.

There was a sharp rap of knuckles on wood, and they both looked over as Miroku came strolling through the open doors on the dining room side of the kitchen. He looked like he was on his way out, dressed in a warm jacket and carrying his shoes in his left hand. His expression was at its usual carefree best even as his violet gaze scanned over the room and its occupants. “So it’s the kitchen floor today, is it? I see Kagome’s been keeping you busy, Shippou.”

Shippou’s reply was another scowl and incoherent gripe. Kagome grinned again. “Shippou’s been working very hard.” When the only thing her comment produced was another round of grumbles, she shared an amused glance with Miroku. “Did you need something, Miroku?”

Miroku smiled and held up the shoes. “Actually, I was just hoping for a snack before I go back into Sounkyo. Long solitary drives can be so depressing on an empty stomach.”

Faint surprise lifted her eyebrows. “You’re going back into Sounkyo? But didn’t we just get back?”

The smile on his lips twisted wryly. “Yes, well, we seem to have developed an unexpected food supply problem.” His dark, mostly amused gaze fixed on Shippou, who had frozen mid-scrub. “Most of the rice we bought last time ended up soaked in vinegar and mixed up with glue.”

The subtle, taunting reprimand was obvious, and a startled shiver visibly shook Shippou’s tail. The little kitsune hesitated, peeked up at him impudently, then went back to scrubbing, grousing to himself quietly--but not so quietly that they couldn’t hear every word he said. “Why is he complaining? It’s just another excuse to go into town without InuYasha yelling at him for it.” He paused, an offhand snort catching in his throat. “He’ll be in a better mood than anyone else around here when he gets back.”

Kagome’s eyes rounded in shock. He can’t possibly know what….

Miroku’s pleasant expression didn’t even twitch. “You may be right, my little friend.” His tone was a study in casualness. “At any rate--was that an offer of assistance I heard coming from our kindhearted Kagome just now, Shippou? You should be more careful--it would be a bad thing if InuYasha heard, wouldn’t it?”

The blithe reminder caused Kagome to flash a guilty face towards Shippou, who flinched in panic at the implied threat.

Shippou sat back onto his knees, immediately repentant for any and all statements that might have been offensive to the human. “It’s just a small piece of the floor. Don’t tell InuYasha, Miroku.” His auburn head bobbed down in a desperate kow-tow. “Please.”

Kagome gave the tiniest wince of sympathy. Miroku was right. If InuYasha heard anything about her small lapse in discipline, the poor kid would be in for worse than a few days of scrubbing floors. Unfortunately for Shippou, there had been one last condition set to the punishment he chose for himself.

“He doesn’t get any help,” InuYasha had stipulated with a snarl. “None. You pick a floor and you make him clean the whole damn thing.”

Both Kagome and Shippou, thinking that a bit too harsh, had started to protest.

InuYasha had cut them off with a hard glance. “If you help him,” he’d informed Kagome in his most inflexible tone, “then I get him.”

And that had been the end of that particular discussion.

That was another reason the kitsune had been avoiding the hanyou for the past few days.

Miroku just responded to Shippou’s plea with a genial smile. He tapped his shoes against his thigh and recited in a knowing voice, “ ‘A high school has a strange principal. On the first day, he has his students perform an odd opening day ceremony:

There are one thousand lockers and one thousand students in the school. The principal asks the first student to go to every locker and open it. Then he has the second student go to every second locker and close it. The third goes to every third locker and, if it is closed, he opens it, and if it is open, he closes it. The fourth student does this to every fourth locker, and so on. After the process is completed with the thousandth student, how many lockers are left open?’” He paused, then lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. “Well…. Have you figured out the answer yet?”

Shippou looked up with a disgusted snort. “No. I know it has something to do with the odd and even numbers, I just can’t figure the exponents….Yet.” His small features set determinedly, and he lopped the towel in his hand into the bucket, causing the water to slosh noisily. “But I will. I’ll figure out your stupid puzzle.”

Apparently satisfied, Miroku turned his attention to Kagome. “It appears I won’t be able to get anything from in here for a while, so I’ll just be going. Kaede already gave me her list--do you have anything to add, Kagome?”

“Eh?” She blinked at him. “Who--me?”

His eyebrows lifted again. “Of course. You’ve been doing most of the cooking and cleaning lately. Is there anything you need? It might be a while before any of us go back. You might want to tell me now.”

Surprised by the question, she just blinked at him for a long moment. He’d said that so easily, so naturally; he’d included her as he would have any other member of the Sachi, and his expectant look told her he hadn’t given it a second thought. Her eyes flitted over to Shippou, who had crossed both arms and legs, and set his brows in a frown of intense concentration. He was muttering something about perfect squares.

Neither of them seemed to think that there was anything remarkable about Miroku’s question. It was all so normal. So everyday.

For the first time since she’d woken up in the storage room in the back, it truly registered--and all she could do was stand there (as Miroku looked on curiously and Shippou ignored her completely) absorbing her realization with a racing heart and mystified wonder.

To the residents of the Sachi, she was more than simply a helpful, extended guest--she was one of them. They were more than just her benefactors. They were her friends. They’d accepted her, a stranger with no past and no prospects, and treated her like one of their own from almost the very beginning. She was secure with them; she was safe. Safe from what, she didn’t know--and quite honestly, she didn’t want to find out. All that mattered was that she was safe.

She’d found a place here. A life. She actually belonged.

And she hadn’t even noticed it until just now.

It might be a while before any of us go back. You might want to tell me now.

Unbidden, a wide, pleased smile blossomed across her face as she focused on the man in front of her. She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s fine. There’s nothing I can think of.” Almost imperceptibly, her smile widened. “I have everything I need right now.”

The warmth and brightness of her smile surprised him--she could see it in the way he eyed her--but he just shrugged. “Very well. If you’re sure, I’ll just be going.” He gave her an offhand wave, and headed for the sliding door she’d just come in. “I don’t have that much to do, so I should be back in time for dinner.”

“Yeah, that’s assuming he doesn’t get distracted by any girls while he’s there.” Shippou’s deep concentration didn’t waver at all as he tossed the comment carelessly at the manager’s retreating back.

Miroku’s easy gait across the kitchen didn’t falter even once as he responded immediately. “Oh? Solved that problem already, Shippou? I’m sure I could find you another one to do before dinner.”

That shut the kitsune up, with a start and an audible gulp on his part.

Kagome rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the amused smile that played over her lips. Miroku slid open the door, allowing a cold breeze to skim through the mostly warm kitchen, and shrugged a little deeper into his jacket before he bent over to slip on his shoes.

Kagome turned to the still-slightly-panicked-looking Shippou and crossed her arms. “Cheer up, Shippou. All you have left is the drying.”

Shippou brightened a little, nodded, then glanced around. “Umm….Kagome? I don’t have any drying towels.”

She blinked, then followed his glance around the room. “You don’t? I was sure I brought you some….” She sighed, then shrugged, and gave him an affectionate look. “Oh well. I’ll go get you some more, all right?”

Shippou nodded, and Kagome turned to leave. She gave a cheerful wave to the Sachi’s manager, who still stood out on the porch, regarding them with speculation through the open door. “Come back safe, Miroku.”

His eyes followed her as she turned to walk out of the kitchen. Just as she reached the doorway, his voice called out in an off-hand manner. “Ah, Kagome? Would you mind doing me a favor?”

She paused, then pivoted to look at him inquiringly. He was looking…. Suspiciously bright and innocent. She blinked at him. “What is it?”

He smiled. “InuYasha is in the men’s bath right now. He’s fixing a leak.” His smile widened. “Would you mind telling him I took the truck, and that I expect to be back by dinner? You know how he is--I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t let him know I’m leaving.”

Her shoulders loosened as her suspicion dropped away with the simple request. She smiled. “Of course. I’ll make sure he knows.” With a lighthearted wave and another contented smile, she disappeared down the hallway.

His own smile going from innocent to self-satisfied, Miroku turned to Shippou, who was staring at the vacated hallway with wide eyes, and pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket. With a jangle, he gestured after their departed housekeeper. “And that, my little friend, is what is called the fine art of subtlety.”

Shippou turned a skeptical expression on the open sliding door, then took a leaping hop onto the countertop. Pale green eyes narrowed doubtfully on the manager lingering on the porch just outside the kitchen. “That’s it? All she’s gonna do is go tell him you’re gone. What’ll that do?”

“Ah.” Miroku pleased expression didn’t waver. “But it’s not what she’ll tell him that’s important, you see. It’s where they’ll be that matters.” He chuckled to himself. “The boiler is acting up. There’s steam everywhere--it’s turned the men’s bath into a virtual sauna. And with the way he’s been acting recently, a little heat is all those two need.”

On the countertop, Shippou’s features grew even more skeptical. He plopped down onto the smooth surface of the counter, crossed his arms, and shot the human a half-annoyed, half-disbelieving look. “So? You think he’s going to kiss her because it’s hot?”
Miroku lost his smile to a moment of genuine surprise. His dark violet eyes widened as he stared at the kitsune, utterly speechless. Then he shook his head, his hand reaching up to scratch underneath the ponytail that restrained his hair.

He gave a rueful laugh. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.” He shook his head again and sighed, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he turned his attention back on the youngster, his manner instructional. “Remember what I told you about the difference between finesse and recklessness, Shippou. The only reason the last stunt you pulled had any effect at all was because it surprised everyone. To get the desired results, you have to be more discreet.”

Shippou frowned, still unsure. “Isn’t this a little too discreet? InuYasha and Kagome talk to each other every day. How does this help change anything?”

That comment prompted the faint curve to return to Miroku’s mouth. “Think about how stubborn InuYasha is. The more normal something is, the less he’ll notice it--and the less he notices, the more it will get under his skin. The goal is to wear him down.” The smile widened. “Have a little faith in me, Shippou. I’ve known InuYasha a lot longer than you.” He turned and started walking away, heading around the building for the vehicle parked in the front. “Remember. Think finesse.”

Shippou stared after him for a minute. Then, with a shiver, he hopped off the countertop and walked over to slide the door shut, cutting off the cold. He turned and surveyed the empty kitchen, a tiny, thoughtful finger tapping against his chin.

Think finesse, huh?

*********************************************************** *******

Her revelation in the kitchen had left her so cheerful, that she didn’t even notice the swearing until she was literally right in front of the baths, and the gruff curses finally penetrated the silly little song she’d been humming to herself as she made her way through the Sachi’s hallways.

Her feet faltered, and she slowed to a stop just outside the entrances to the Sachi‘s baths. They were right next to each other in the middle of the same long corridor. Gender-specific signs hung above either entrance, directing guests to the appropriate rooms. Colored curtains--red for the women, blue for the men--hung in place of the doors, each leading off into their section of the large room beyond; and swearing--muffled but varying in both ferocity and volume--filtered through the walls.

Kagome bit her lip, hesitating. Oh, InuYasha was in there, all right.

In fact…. The Sachi’s owner and resident handyman currently sounded…. Extremely agitated.

The Sachi’s baths were located in the very center of the inn, and were accessible from all three wings, making them one of the easiest places to find. During her first tour here, Miroku had informed her that the baths had originally been one large room designed around a naturally occurring volcanic hot spring. The first owner had built it for his wife in the hopes that it would help her failing health; sadly, it’d had little effect.

After the Sachi was converted into an inn, various owners had divided the room, first by separating it into halves with a wall to create separate baths for men and women; and later, dividing it into quarters after someone decided an outdoor bath was needed as well. A modern indoor bath had been added, and the walls around the hot spring had been redesigned so that both sides had access to both an indoor bath and an outdoor hot spring.

At the moment, the men’s entrance had a hand-scribbled out-of-order sign hanging across the top of it. As Kagome contemplated the opening, she found herself reluctant to simply push past the curtain, suddenly uneasy with the prospect of barging into the men’s bath even if she was on an errand for the inn’s manager. She sighed and glanced around the deserted hallway, as if seeking an answer from the Sachi itself--and finally noticed the second sign that had decided to appear on the wall beside the entrance.

Carved in simple, easy-to-read characters on a pale wooden background were the words:

‘Danger! Exposure to bath fumes may cause dizziness or even death. Do not enter.’

Kagome blinked, then smothered a laugh. Fumes? Oh, Shippou. Don’t you think that’s a little much? I’m sure the guests will see the out-of-order sign just fine. Then she frowned. Wait. He’s been busy cleaning all morning. When did he have time to….

Another vicious curse, followed by a loud clang, echoed hollowly from behind the curtain and she jumped, then cast a worried glance at the heavy linen curtain. Maybe I should go get Shippou his towels first….

Then she sighed. This would only take a minute. She would just pop in, make sure he was aware that Miroku had gone into town, and leave. She glanced up at the sign declaring this side the men’s bath and bit her lip.

Leave quickly.

Hesitantly, she reached out and knocked on the wooden frame of the doorway. The only response she got was another loud, metallic clang, a rather clunky-sounding bang, and another round of heated curses. This time she couldn’t prevent the roll of her eyes. Honestly…. People can hear you. With a resigned sigh, she pushed open the curtain and made her way inside, praying that all the guests had heeded the signs.

She made her way past the small changing area, where the wooden cubby holes designed to hold bather’s clothes were all empty (an encouraging sign) and stepped with bare feet into the much larger tiled bathing area… And halted in surprise.

It was hot.

And not just hot in the normal, it’s-a-bath kind of way. It was swelteringly hot. A soft, thin hissing could be heard somewhere in the background, and steam was everywhere--thin, vaporous clouds of moisture drifting through the air. The humidity in the room felt dense and heavy, coating her skin with a fine film, making her instantly damp and sticky beneath the thick wool of her sweater. Unconsciously, her fingers tugged at the sleeves along her wrists as the material itched and rapidly went from comfortably warm to smothering.

She drew a deep breath, noting the extreme difference in even the consistency of the air as warmth rushed down her throat and into her lungs, filling her belly with swirling heat. The temperature jump was enormous.

Pushing the air out of her lungs just as quickly, Kagome pushed her fingers through the strays and loose bangs that were escaping her braid, smoothing the damp strands away from her face. After engaging in a quick mental debate, she reached down and tugged the sweater over her head before wrapping the garment around her hips. She was already starting to sweat--she would pass out if she stayed in here for too long bundled up like that. She would have to wait until she was cooler to re-don the sweater.

How long has InuYasha been in here?

Pulling up the sleeves of her thin shirt underneath, she made a quick scan of the room, looking for her abruptly, and mysteriously silent employer. She hadn’t heard a sound from him since she stepped past the curtain.

The men’s bath, like the women’s bath, had eight washing stations, with four appropriately spaced along either wall as one walked into the bathing area. Stools and buckets were stacked neatly in corner off to her left, while the bath was at the back of the room. The swimming-pool sized structure took up most of the floor, and was portioned off from the women’s side by the wall to her right. Around the bath, the tile formed a narrow walk-space that led to a sliding door in the back wall; beyond that door was the fenced-in hot spring portion of the bath.

There he is!

She started for the back corner of the room.

He was laying flat on his back, on that narrow section of tile, one jean-clad knee drawn up on one bare foot. His head, arms, shoulders, and the upper part of his torso were all half-hidden in a large section of the wall where the tiles that had been removed. With his body at an angle, he appeared to have only just enough room to stretch out, and was completely blocking the way around the bath.

He didn’t appear to be moving.

InuYasha? Blinking, her vision slightly hazy through the mist, Kagome frowned. Had the heat gotten to him? He hadn’t made a sound since she stepped inside. Had he passed out with no one here to help him? She rushed forward anxiously, darting around the larger pool without thinking, oblivious to the faint panic in her voice. “InuYasha!”

She didn’t notice the surprised twitch that ran through his body when she called out his name.

His hands wrapped over the edges of the opening, and he pushed himself out of the wall to sit upright, ears twitching, expression alarmed as his eyes darted around the room. An aggressive snarl curled his lip up, and he sounded tense and disconcerted when he addressed her. “Kagome?! What’s wrong?!”

Oops. He’s….

She skidded to a halt just beyond where his bare foot almost nudged the concrete lip of the bath--realizing only belatedly that he was obviously not in need of help.

He’s….

Her breath clogged in her throat.

Finding nothing amiss, the dark gold of his eyes narrowed up at her, half-perplexed at the urgency in her voice when she’d called his name, half-annoyed that she had actually worried him. “What’s going on? What do you want?”

She just stared.

He’s…not wearing a shirt.

He’d been wearing a shirt this morning. She knew he’d been wearing a shirt this morning. He’d been fully dressed when he’d come in and wolfed down the breakfast she’d prepared before heading out again, mumbling something about the tiles on the roof--obviously, the problem in the bath had distracted him again. ( She should have figured. It seemed to be a daily occurrence around here, anyway.) He must have discarded his shirt because of the high temperatures in the bath, though, because all he was wearing now was a pair of old, threadbare work jeans.

That was it. She was seeing more of him than she’d ever imagined seeing.

Oh… My….

Trim, compact, and well defined, he had the body of a martial artist: it was nothing but tight, smooth skin and sleek, layered muscle. A fighter’s body, she thought vaguely. And from the way he was sitting--arms braced against the wall, knees drawn up and ready to spring to his feet at any moment--he was obviously tensed and ready for a battle. The heat and humidity had him sweating, and moisture had long since formed a heavy film over his skin; even his hair was damp, pulled back from his face in a loose ponytail. A few rebellious, scattered strands of silver clung to his neck and shoulders, while the rest of it fell out of sight behind his back.

Her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek. She was suddenly feeling all…flushed and tingly everywhere, and her stomach was doing that thrilling little flip-flop thing again. Non-stop this time.

Well…. At least he’s ok….

If a bit irritated. “Hey, Kagome!” His apprehensive frown had tightened into a scowl, and his voice was back to its usual crankiness. “What the hell are you doing in the men’s bath?!”

She blinked at him, then drew a sharp breath as she remembered why she was here. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, and found herself glad that he wouldn’t be able to tell just from looking at her. Feeling like an idiot, she glanced down at her feet. Absently, her fingers began plucking at her shirt, tugging it away from her chest as she tried to produce some kind of reprieve from the excessive heat. “Umm…. Miroku wanted me to tell you that he was taking the truck into Sounkyo.”

He didn’t say anything for a long minute. When she finally looked up, she found him staring with a look of confused disbelief, his gaze fixed on the motion of her hand. Then he blinked and jerked his eyes up, glancing at her face. The moment her eyes connected with his, he blinked again, then shook his head as if he was shaking off a trance. “That’s it?”

She nodded, and his shoulders slumped and his body visibly relaxed. He sighed, then reached up a forearm to swipe at his brow. “Shit. Don’t do that.” He rested the arm on his knee and sent her a vaguely disgusted look. “Why the hell did you come running in here like that? I though something was wrong, dammit.”

She sighed as well, unconsciously mimicking his movements as her palm smoothed across her own forehead, pushing back at more dark strands of hair. She hadn’t made her braid tight enough today; it was all falling out. “I was worried because you weren’t moving.”

“Worried?” He gave her an affronted look and a snort. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not about to let a little heat beat me.” He rolled his eyes, and indicated behind him at the hole in the wall and the exposed pipes and fixtures. “I wasn’t moving because I just found another leak in this damn pipe.”

Faintly embarrassed, she defended herself. “Hey! It’s not stupid to worry when you’re by yourself in this. Not even you are immune to this kind of heat for long.” She paused, then mumbled. “Obviously.”

“Obviously?” His scowl was back, black brows narrowed. “Feh. Of course, anyone would be hot in here, but it’s not as if it’ll hurt me. I’m fine.” He shifted, his body tensing as he lay back and started to push himself back into the opening in the wall.

Her eyes widened, the tingle in her skin sliding down her throat and into her chest as the smooth, subtle ripple of muscle drew her attention. She sucked in a breath and jerked her gaze away, turning her head to study the way the steam rose off the water from the bath. “Yeah, and I’m sure just anyone would be wandering around with their shirt off, too.” The half-breathed mutter escaped her lips before her brain thought better of it, and she immediately winced, praying he hadn’t heard her.

No such luck. The scratchy sound of fabric sliding against the tiles went abruptly silent, and the only thing that made any sound in the cavernous room was the faint hissing of the leaking pipe in the wall behind them. Her head was still turned away, so she didn’t see his fingers tighten almost convulsively around the edges of the wall.

Mortification had her chewing on her lip again. She didn’t have to see him stop to know that he had. The suffocating heat of the room’s atmosphere had already turned her face as red as it could be, but she could still feel the embarrassment gathering in her cheeks.

His voice made her jump.

“You’re right.” He paused, then she heard more scraping against the tile as he scooted all the way back into the gap. “It’s fucking hot in here. You’ve told me what you wanted to tell me, so get the hell out before the heat gets to you and you cause me even more problems.”

The brusqueness in his tone stung. Kagome’s eyes widened and her head whipped back around, ready to snap out an infuriated retort when she heard another loud bang and a soft sizzling sound, followed by a very sharp, very explicit curse from a very pissed-off-sounding hanyou. She winced, then hesitated.

Maybe I should just….

Another soft sizzle was followed by another curse--this one snarled from very deep within in his throat and in a language she was sure wasn’t Japanese.

Another moment’s indecision, and Kagome found herself slowly folding into a crouch by his side, wrapping her arms around her knees as she peered through the small opening. Some piping obstructed InuYasha’s face, but his arms stretched up, fiddling with something higher up in the wall.

She frowned. Whatever he was trying to do, he didn’t seem to be having very much success. “Umm…. What’s wrong with it?”

He hesitated at her question. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her to leave again. Then she heard a faint growl. “What do you think is wrong with it?” He bit out snappishly. His voice sounded oddly muffled filtering through the walls. “One of the fucking pipes is leaking. I found it, but it’s a hard pipe to get to without taking everything else out first. And these pipes all come from the boiler--that makes them all fucking hot.”

Kagome felt her eyebrows lift as she realized what the small sizzling sounds were. They’re burning him. She blinked at the part of him she could still see in astonishment. “You’re not actually trying to get that pipe out while the boiler is still on are you?!”

InuYasha paused, and she heard a grimace in his reply. “Of course not--I’m not that stupid. I turned the boiler off first thing.”

His body shifted again, twisting a bit in the narrow space until he could see her face. His golden eyes caught hers in a direct gaze, letting her see his aggravation. “The problem is that the damn boiler was overheating, so the pipes are even hotter than normal. The hell of it is, if the boiler hadn’t overheated, we wouldn’t have even known about the leak until something burst.”

For a brief moment of silence, they simply stared at each other.

Then he sighed, his brows flattening into a scowl. “If you’re not going to leave, then at least do something useful.” He jerked his chin off to the side, gesturing to the floor on the other side of him. “There’s a little bottle in there. It’s made of metal and covered in blue paint. Find it and hand it to me.”

Taken aback, Kagome found her eyes following his gesture, focusing on a heretofore-unnoticed toolbox on the tile beside his body. It took her another second to realize that he’d requested her help. Well… Sort of. Even more surprised, and slightly pleased at the thought, she stood slowly, tugging at her shirt once again to keep it from sticking against her skin. Gingerly, carefully, she stepped over his body.

She could feel the darkened amber of his gaze follow her as she moved. It was as if his eyes themselves, with their peculiar color, held their own kind of intense heat--a heat completely separate from the warmth permeating every other inch of space in the bath. Conversely, it was a heat that had her fighting off a shiver of awareness. She crouched down again, carefully balanced on the balls of her feet, and started rummaging through the varied and oddly-shaped tools in the battered metal toolbox. Her movements were blind; her mind didn’t want to focus on the task in front of her when she was so in tune to the gaze fixed on her.

She was so distracted that she found what he wanted almost by accident, and ended up staring at it in her hand for several moments before she even realized what it was. It almost shocked her when he made an impatient sound and snatched the small metal bottle from her hand. She felt the briefest graze of claws across her fingertips, and then he was sliding backwards, wedging himself back in between the pipes in the wall.

He reached up through the maze of piping, drawing her gaze to him once again. “What I want to know is how the damn boiler got turned up so high in the first place. I just checked the fucking thing last week and it was fine.” She watched InuYasha’s hand came into contact with another pipe, saw him jerk it back and curse as he burned himself again.

She winced in sympathy. Once again, her fingers gripped futilely at the collar of her shirt, tugging in an effort to keep cool. “Wouldn’t it be easier to wait until after the pipes cool off? At least you wouldn’t be burning yourself so much.”

Even his snort sounded odd coming from inside the wall. “I’d rather just get it done. The burns are no big deal.”

She glared at him. “No big deal? But you could sca--” He shocked her into silence by pulling one arm free and holding it out for her inspection. She stared at the red welts of varying length and width that decorated the smooth skin of his forearm. It took her another moment and a confused frown to figure out what he was trying to show her.

Her eyes widened, and she drew in a sharp breath.

Slowly, one by one, the red welts were fading, disappearing from his skin as if they had never been.

“See? I told you. They’re nothing.” As if her gasp had been some sort of signal, he pulled his arm back and continued his quest to conquer the rebellious plumbing fixture.

Youkai healing. Of course he wouldn’t be bothered by the prospect of scarring. Youkai didn’t scar unless the injury was extremely severe. She knew that. She’d known that since she was--

Gray eyes widened.

Since she was….

Wait--she had known that, hadn’t she? Where did that knowledge come from? Why…. Why was it just there when she wasn’t even thinking about it? Was it just common knowledge, or was it something special? Did it mean something?

A tiny frown carved a ridge between her eyes as she turned her gaze inward, searching desperately for another flash of insight. What else did she know about youkai? If she concentrated hard enough, could she--

“Dammit!”

His belligerent yelp startled her so badly that she shrieked and lost her balance, falling back onto her tailbone with a hard, jarring thud she felt travel all the way up her spine. She cringed. That’s going to bruise.

“Kagome? What happened now?”

She looked up. “I--” He’d managed to tilt his head so he could see her through the pipes, and the amber tint of his eyes latched onto her intently. The steamy air almost seemed to make them glow. She swallowed. “N-nothing.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Finally, though, he just shook his head. “Keh. You don’t look so good. Get out of here.”

That prompted a faint smile to curve her lips. He was probably right. The sweat that had been beading on her skin for the past few minutes was starting to roll in soft, ticklish lines down her body, and the heat had become an almost literal force in the room, a weight that pressed on her. Her mouth was dry, and she could do with a cool glass of water.

But she didn’t want to leave just yet. She felt an intriguing sense of camaraderie with him at the moment, and she didn’t want to break it just yet.

When she’d lost her balance, her foot had kicked out to the side, dislodging something from underneath the toolbox. A book. Squirming around until she was sitting on her knees beside a grumbling InuYasha, she reached out and plucked the paperback off the damp tile. Her brows lifted in surprise as she read the title:

‘Plumbers Handbook: A technical guide to systems, pipes, and problems.’

She darted a quick look up at her preoccupied boss before she flipped open the thick volume. A quick skim through the table of contents revealed a chapter devoted to fixing leaks. It seemed a simple guide, the language only somewhat technical, making most of it easy to decipher; it was even illustrated, the chapter itself divided by types of piping. Slim dark brows narrowed in concentration, she started reading.

After fifteen minutes of companionable silence, she darted another look up at him, then frowned down at the book in her lap.

“InuYasha? How big is the leak?”

She startled him with her question, because it was rapidly followed by a hollow bang--a small-sounding one, though, so it was probably only his finger--and the obligatory swearing. When he finally got around to answering her, he sounded more annoyed than curious. “It’s small, but there’s more than one of ‘em in the damn thing.”

Her brow furrowed. More than one? “Does it need to be replaced?”

He stilled for a moment before he spoke again, almost as if he were trying to figure out why she was asking. “Yeah. But we have to order a new one anyway, so I’m trying to get it working until then. It’ll be a pain in the ass if we have to make do with just the outdoor bath.” He was quiet for about ten seconds before he tacked on a terse, “Stop distracting me.”

She nodded, and her fingers made another absent swipe at the film of moisture heavy on her forehead as she studied the book on her lap. She rubbed them against her jeans, wishing there was a way to air out the room so her skin didn’t feel so clammy. “So that means you’re using a sealant, right?”

He grunted.

Kagome took that to mean ‘yes’. This time her brow furrowed. “Do you really think that will hold it?”

He grunted again, and finished with whatever he’d been doing for the past few minutes, because he shifted around slightly to the side. “Hell if I know.”

Her head jerked up, her slate gray eyes rounding, then narrowing abruptly as salt seeped into their corners and stung. Blinking, she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know shit about plumbing.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if that answered her question.

Which it sort of did. “You….” She stared at him, then down at the book in her lap. “So…why are you trying to fix it yourself?”

His snort told her plainly how stupid he thought that question was. “Because it’s broken--and the monk sure as hell can’t do it.”

“But…. What if you make it worse?”

There was unqualified--slightly exasperated--confidence in his voice. “Then I’ll find a way to fix that, too.”

She chewed on a nail, then sighed heavily, using both hands to lift the remnants of her braid off her neck, trying to let the skin breathe in the heavy atmosphere. “But the book says….”

“Book?” Now he sounded curious. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hands stop whatever they were doing and his head angle around the pipe to stare at her. Then he startled her by shoving his way out of the narrow wall space to sit up once again, a faint furrow to his brow.

Unsure of what she’d done, she dragged her concentration away from the words on the page, and glanced up, looking askance at the hanyou sitting with his back to the wall only a few feet away. He was staring at her strangely, a rather charming little tilt to his head.

“You read that thing?” One clawed finger pointed at the book in her lap. He sounded surprised--looked surprised, too. His whole face had lightened, amber eyes widening, eyebrows lifting, and soft white ears that had been drooping in the heat perking up. “There’s a lot of technical shit in there. You understand that stuff?”

“I….” She blinked at him, then let her hair drop back onto her neck. “Well, mostly….” He was right. There was some seriously complicated kanji in there--phrases and wording that a normal high school education didn’t necessarily afford a person. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d puzzled them out in her mind. “Yeah….” She glanced back down at the book on her lap. “I guess I do.”

For a few minutes, they sat in pensive quiet.

Kagome sensed him staring at her, but she refused to look up. She realized that the ease with which she’d deciphered the words said something about her--she just wished she knew what it was. She bit her lip and risked a quick glance up from under her lashes. He was still staring at her, but his gaze had turned vague in the way she was learning to associate with deep thought--as if he were looking inward rather than outward. “You too?”

She only partially succeeded in returning his attention to her, but did manage to get his eyes to focus--lazily, almost absently--on her features. “Yeah. My parents made me learn all kinds of obscure kanji when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “I know lots of random shit. It’s nothing special.”

Kagome felt herself perk up eagerly, curious even as the intense heat was starting to press in on her. “Your parents? You have relatives?”

The question brought him out of whatever mental haze he was in, because his gaze suddenly sharpened. His eyes narrowed slightly, their clear amber tracing over her features. Then they widened with the faintest hint of shock and he pulled away, glancing to the side as he moved backwards again, his hands wrapping tightly around the edges of the wall as he lay back. He didn’t speak until he had effectively ensconced his upper body behind a small network of pipes.

“I did.” His voice was oddly neutral, without inflection of any kind. “They’re dead.”

“Oh.” She deflated as quickly as she’d perked up, suddenly feeling immensely guilty. “I’m sorry.”

He snorted, and the sound echoed weirdly through in the hollow he’d created. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

She felt an inexplicable, wistful ache in her chest, and had to swallow to keep it from sounding in her voice. “They were your only family?”

“No.” This time he growled his words, his hands tugging hard at something. “I have a half-brother.” He paused, then grunted, his words going short and flat. “We don’t talk.”

She gave him a stricken look. “I’m sorry,” she repeated quietly.

That seemed to give him pause. “Why?” He sounded perplexed. “That sorry fuck’s a first-class asshole.”

She winced at the harsh language, then sighed softly, looking down at her hands where they twisted together in the air above the pages of the book. She could feel the sweat trickling liberally now, down the sides of her face, along the covered curves of her body, but she ignored it. “But I know what it feels like to be alone.”

Once again, her words stilled him. He cocked his head, and managed to peer out at her. “But I’m not alone.” Her eyes jerked up and to meet his matter-of-fact gaze. “And neither are you.”

Gray eyes widened as she stared at him, unable to look away as she took in his words.

Oh, gods.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her gut suddenly twisted itself into hard, tense knots. Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed at a fast, erratic rhythm. Her lungs squeezed, and the air in the room felt thick, hard to pull in; a foreign, pleasantly achy sensation swirled deep in the pit of her abdomen…and lower. And despite the heat, a brief rise of gooseflesh razed across her skin, startling a shiver of pure sensitivity from her.

The suddenness of it, the force of it, stunned her.

With a faint gasp, she froze.

He blinked at the unexpected sound. She saw his nose twitch. His eyes widened, flickered with comprehension….

And then she watched his expression tighten. Darken. Flare with heat and…. And something else, something far more basic. She saw his chest heave as he sucked in a breath, and the smooth bunch and shift of muscle as he started to sit up--the movement almost automatic--his gaze locked on her.

Her fingers clenched tightly around themselves, and she panicked. “I-it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” she blurted, her voice shaking--whether from the strength of her reaction to him, or the unknown intent in his reaction towards her, she didn’t know. She surged to her feet, almost clumsily, staggering a bit as she realized that they’d fallen asleep on her. She managed to correct her balance and whirled, heading for the doors at the back--the only direction that would take her away from him. “We should….air it out a little.”

She needed to clear her head. She needed to think.

She needed to figure out what that was.

But she was right. It was hot. And she’d been in that heat just a little too long. Dizziness hit her like a punch in the head, and she staggered again, disoriented. Behind her, she heard InuYasha growl out her name--a warning.

Too late.

Her feet hit the lip of the bath, and she tripped. She fell sideways, splashing into the steaming bath water--clothes and all--with a sharp, stunning slap.

The water closed around her head, and she tried to make for the surface, but her body didn’t want to move in the sudden shock of near-scalding water.

Oh, damn, she thought wearily as her reality faded from watery gray, to glowing red, to pitch black. Now we’re going to have to clean out the bath, too.

*************************************************************** ****

It had taken him less than an hour to get everything on Kaede’s list. As near as Miroku could figure, that left him at least two hours before he had to start heading home if he wanted to be back in time for dinner. Two whole hours to do whatever his heart desired. Two hours for a little ‘R-and-R’--and considering how chaotic things around the Sachi had been recently (the entertainment value of the situation being beside the point), he figured he deserved some basic stress relief.

Two hours.

Koharu probably wouldn’t mind if he stopped by for a chat and some…er…tea.

Whistling cheerfully to himself, Miroku loaded the last bag of rice into the back of the truck and slammed the doors, making sure to lock up before he left it parked on the street. Then he tucked the keys safely into his pockets and headed off down the one of the many sidewalks lining Sounkyo’s cobblestone streets--still whistling, and aiming the occasional charming smile at a passing beauty here or there.

He rounded a corner, allowing his violet gaze to skim across the street almost casually as he went. Something snagged his vision and his head snapped around, followed more slowly by his feet as he drew to a stop. Hands still shoved deep in his jacket pockets, he just stood stock still in his tracks, staring at the outside portion of the same restaurant where he and Kagome and InuYasha had eaten only days before.

He couldn’t believe it.

It’s her.

The mystery traveler from before. He could only see her back, but…. He would recognize that charming backside anywhere. And, of course, that long, thick hair cascading over the back of her chair to swish against it--which of course, conjured fleeting visions of her in nothing but that hair.

Ah, sweet bliss.

He hadn’t even gotten a clear look at her face yet. Although…. Nothing stopping him today, was there?

She was sitting at one of the white metal tables that littered the outside of the café, sipping on some kind of drink as she studied the table in front of her. Violet eyes narrowed and his neck craned in an attempt to see what she was staring at so intently. His feet carried him over a few steps until he could see her partial profile, and his eyes widened slightly as he realized what she was doing.

Is that…shogi?

Well, well, well. His curiosity spiked.

She had one of those small traveling games set up on the tabletop in front of her, and--though he couldn’t really tell from this distance--the pieces seemed to be scattered about in a pattern that implied game play. He felt both brows lift in surprise. She didn’t appear to have a companion.

Whom was she playing with?

As he stood there, straining his eyesight from across the street, he suddenly saw one slim hand reach out and…pick up the opposing side’s piece? Her head tilted in a moment of consideration as she held the wedge-shaped wood in her hand. Then she carefully set it down closer to her side of the board and sat forward, resting her chin in her hand.

Realization struck, and Miroku rubbed thoughtfully at his own chin. Not only did she play shogi, but she played against herself? Interesting woman.

Ah, but is she any good?

He watched for a few more minutes, just to make absolutely sure she was alone, then shrugged and stepped forward to cross the street. He approached her casually, wending his way through the scattered--mostly empty--umbrella-shaded tables behind her. As he drew closer, he noted two things simultaneously: that she was indeed playing against herself, and that he was wrong about her not having a companion. Her companion just happened to be on the diminutive side. Draped lazily across her lap, eyes closed contentedly and small chin resting on its dark forepaws, was a tiny cat, which the woman in question would reach down and stroke on occasion.

He smiled his best “I’m a harmless, charming, regular guy” smile as he drifted to a stop even with her table. “You’ll never win that way, you know,” he stated by way of greeting.

Hmm….

She must have seen him coming somehow, because she didn’t start. She didn’t look up to see who had spoken. In fact, she didn’t react at all. It was as if she’d known he was there the whole time and was just waiting for him to say something. Her face remained turned down and focused on the game in front of her. Her features were still mostly hidden by the straight bangs of her hair--although he did take note of some very smooth-looking skin and a rather soft set of lips--as she calmly reached out and plucked up a pawn from her side of the board and moved it next to the opposing side’s lance. Then he saw her lips curve ever so slightly before they parted.

“Maybe,” she said in answer to his statement. “But I’ll never lose, either.”

He only just had time to note that her move was a good one before she finally turned her face up and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. And quite beautiful eyes they were: dark, coffee-rich brown, framed by that peculiar shape that he remembered from before, dark eyelashes, and (if he wasn’t mistaken) the faintest smidge of pink eyeshadow. She had a beautiful face, too--delicate lines, clear skin, and a soft, feminine quality that was quite attractive.

And now those pretty features were focused directly on him.

His smile grew. “Ah, but if you can’t lose or win, then what’s the fun in playing?”

Her posture straightened, lifting her chin off her palm, and her head tilted as she took a moment to study him. The slim line of an eyebrow notched up a bit as she considered his question, and he took great satisfaction in noting the spark of curiosity that flared in her eyes, the faint crack in her façade of indifference. “Maybe the fun is…. To see how good I am?” Her voice was dry and faintly skeptical. Obviously, she wasn’t quite sure about him.

He gaze a faint nod, acknowledging her point. “But can you truly know how good you are if you never test yourself against anyone but yourself?”

Her lips curved up again. “Well, I don’t always play against myself, but my usual partner decided she needed a nap more than she needed mental exercise this time.” Her hand stroked lovingly along the small bundle of yellow fur in her lap.

“Usual partner?”

“Yes. Kirara’s quite fond of shogi, actually.”

Surprised once again, he glanced down. The cat in her lap suddenly opened its eyes and looked directly at him, confronting him with their deep red color and slit pupils, as well as a startling gleam of intelligence. “Ah….” He hesitated, staring at the animal uneasily, unsure if she was teasing him or not.

And then he noticed the two tails, twining around each other, and the faint emanation of youki coming from the cat. “Ah,” he said again. “I see.” A youkai. And not just any youkai. Though its youki seemed negligible enough, Miroku had seen enough in his lifetime not to take impressions at face value. He suspected the youkai had the potential to be far more powerful than it appeared. The uncommon intelligence in the kitten’s eyes was evidence enough to be cautious.

More than a simple pet, then, he concluded. A true companion.

Interesting woman indeed.

He considered her for a moment. “Well, then. Since your…ah…normal partner appears to be unavailable, perhaps you could make do with a stand-in?”

She hadn‘t been expecting the offer, because her eyes widened momentarily, showing the whites of her eyes like a skittish horse. Despite the unease it revealed, it had the most charming side-effect of emphasizing their exotic slant and thick lashes. “I don’t know….” She hesitated, her smile fading, then gave him a pointed once-over. “Are you any good?”

He couldn’t help the slow triumph that flavored his smile as it returned. “Oh…. Some would say I’m fair.”

“Maybe….” She still looked reticent.

He sighed. “Perhaps it would help if I introduced myself.” He swept into a deep, respectful bow. “I am Daishi Miroku.” He paused and looked up. Her expression hadn’t changed. “I run one of the inns in the area.” Perhaps that would alleviate her uncertainty.

She continued to stare at him, brown eyes remote, her hand stroking along the youkai cat’s--Kirara, was it?--back with almost absent thought. The youkai was staring at him with a rather unnerving gaze, as if she were weighing and judging his suitability to be associated with her mistress. He fought the urge to clear his throat.

Unexpectedly, her smile was back, curving those soft lips of hers upward with some secret amusement. “Alright.”

Miroku was no fool, and immediately took the opportunity to slip into the seat across from her and study the board. His brows lifted in surprise. It looked as if she had a fair game going on. No one side seemed to have too great of an advantage, although it appeared as if black--his side--was currently winning. That could easily change, though.

Well, it could have easily changed.

He had full confidence as he looked up once again. “Black’s turn?” She nodded, and he studied the board once again. “May I ask why such a lovely woman is playing shogi by herself in the middle of a town such as Sounkyo?”

Her hesitation was faint, and he dismissed it out of hand as the normal caution one has when conversing with a stranger. “I am on…. Vacation. This is what I do on my vacations.”

He picked up the lance and took the pawn she had previously moved next to it. “And what is it that you vacationing from?”

She hesitated again, longer this time. “I….” Her voice took on a neutral quality. “I am very good at solving problems for my…company. My work is very involved, and it sends me to many different places. It gets tiring every once in a while.”

Miroku looked up sharply. He studied her for a moment, noting the sudden blandness in her features as she studied the board. She sat forward then, and moved her rook up. His mouth gave an amused twist. “So, am I to assume that you’re traveling to rest from traveling?”

Her brown eyes flashed up at him for a moment before that faintly amused smile returned to her lips. “You could put it that way, I suppose.” From her lap, a soft “mew” sounded--half in agreement, half to remind them both that her little friend was listening.

He sat back and studied the arrangement of pieces more carefully, trying to figure out what she meant to do before he moved again. “Is there perhaps a name to go with such an intriguing woman?”

That mysterious smile playing at the corners of her mouth never wavered. “Perhaps there is.”

He waited, but she made no reply.

Interesting. He pulled his damaged hand from where he’d kept it in his pocket and steepled his hands in front of his face. Her eyes flashed over his hand immediately, and he knew she took in the scar and wondered, but she made no comment. Even more interesting.

Three moves at the most, he figured, and he would have her in check. He smiled again. “Shall we make a little wager?”

Her brows lifted. “Wager?”

He nodded. “Since you seem reluctant to tell me your name, I suppose I’ll just have to earn it from you.”

He had her complete attention now, and had gained the additional benefit of distracting her from the game play. “Earn?”

He reached out his scarred hand and moved his own rook closer to her king. “If I win this game, you’ll have to tell me your full name. Is that acceptable?”

She blinked at him, ignoring another “meow” from her companion. “And if you lose?”

He glanced around at their surroundings as if searching for an answer, allowing his violet gaze to move over the cobblestone street and the surrounding tables before they fell on the half-empty teacup at her elbow. He considered the small cup hesitantly, then nodded at it. “I’ll pay your bill.”

She stared at him for another long moment before she tilted her head, her straight bangs falling low across her forehead, and shrugged. “Alright.”

She reached out.

Moved her rook again.

And smiled sweetly. “Check.”

Just then, the waiter returned with several steaming dishes on a tray. While he watched in wide-eyed dismay, the woman across from him nodded at the waiter to set the large array of dishes off to the side. With yet another chiding “mew”, Kirara jumped up onto the table and stared at him reproachfully.

Miroku just sighed.

Interesting woman indeed.

************************************************************ *******

A/N: I have an absolutely horrid headache right now…. *cry*

Again, this is part one of two. It seems as if--for this story, anyway--the things I want to accomplish in one chapter always take longer. Ah, well. That’s the way it goes. *mumbles* It might make the next chapter shorter, but it shouldn’t be too bad….

Anyway, not much to say on this one, other than I absolutely love this story and I have so much fun crafting everything out, and I’m hoping it translates to the people who read it. I’d love to hear what everyone thinks is going on--just curious as to the impression people are getting about the characters. I’m trying to convey a certain sense about them all, and I’m wonder if I’m getting it right. How am I doing? J

As always, all comments and questions are appreciated and welcome.

Blessings and Cheers,

‘Till next chapter,

~Quill

P.S: Oh, and… Am not. (Yeah, you. You know who you are. :P)