InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sachi ❯ Night Games ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter 11

The first thing Miroku saw as he stepped into the foremost of the Sachi’s two living rooms was dust.

The second was the furry tail scrabbling around deep within the cold hearth opposite the door. The area carpet was rolled back and plastic lay out around the stone to catch all the dirt stirred by Shippou’s movements. Loud huffs and sneezing fits filled the air; muted grumbling punctuated each scrape and whump as soot was dumped into a nearby plastic bag. Off to the side and far enough away to avoid drifting clouds of ash sat Kaede, tucked comfortably into an armchair, a blanket draped across her lap, a drug-store paperback spread open in her hands.

Neither one of them appeared to notice his entry.

He’d gotten the same non-reaction from InuYasha and Kagome; Miroku didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed.

He settled for mildly impressed. “You tried to set his food on fire?” At his words, the alternating “scrape-mumble-scrape” stopped its echoing off the stone walls of the fireplace. Miroku shook his head. “You know better than that, Shippou.”

“Miroku! You’re back!” The kitsune popped out of the fireplace, covered head-to-tail in soot and grime. Expression buoyant, he bounded across the floor, aiming for the manager’s shoulder; with the ease of long practice, Miroku sidestepped the air-born, filth-covered child. Shippou landed with an “oomph” on the hard floor beside him as he turned to give Kaede a bow of greeting.

Kaede looked up from her book with her usual serene expression. “Welcome back, Miroku. I assume your trip into Sounkyo was productive?”

He acknowledged her with his customary nod. “Of course, dear lady. Everything you requested is in the truck, and will be brought in as soon as our young friend here is available to help.”

A soft groan followed that statement, but both adults managed to act as if they hadn’t heard. Miroku shared a look of mutual amusement with Kaede, then turned his violet gaze back to the kit who glared at them both from the floor. “I found the most interesting game going on in the kitchen, Shippou.”

“They’re still playing?” Shippou brightened. He sat up and tapped a thoughtful finger on his chin, against the one spot on his face that wasn’t smudged all over with thick streaks of soot. “They’ve been playing for over an hour now.” For a moment he looked hopeful. “Did they kiss yet?”

Kaede’s brows lifted, but she didn’t comment.

Miroku found that highly amusing. “So you did do it on purpose. Deliberately setting his food on fire is a little extreme, don’t you think?” He gestured around the room, taking in the fireplace and the evidence of hard work. “You know what making him angry usually gets you.”

Shippou’s features crumpled with dismay. “I didn’t mean to set his food on fire. I was just trying to make it hot. I thought if his food was hot, then he would stay and eat it in the kitchen, and then I could get him to play, too.” A very hanyou-like scowl replaced the dismay, and he crossed his arms. “Stupid InuYasha.”

That…actually wasn’t a bad plan. Miroku felt his “mildly impressed” ratchet up a notch. “Interesting strategy, Shippou. Why shogi?”

Tiny shoulders lifted. “Finesse,” he said simply--though a shade of smugness had entered his voice. “Shogi’s something InuYasha does all the time. It’s the same as what you said about the bath.”

“I suppose it is.” Miroku folded his arms, and narrowed his eyes down on the youkai. “Shippou, did you see what happened in the bath? They both acted strange when I mentioned it.”

Green eyes scrunched up in thought. “No. I missed it. By the time I got there, they were already soaked and out in the hallway.” He paused, then added, “From the way he was touching her, I thought he was actually gonna make a move,” mild disgust tinged his expression, “but it turns out it was only because she fell in, so that was a bust.”

Miroku blinked, then cleared his throat. “Ah…. Soaked? Touching her? What exactly were they doing, Shippou?”

Kaede surprised them both by speaking up. “Kagome was overcome by the heat, and fell into the bath.”

“Yep!” Shippou took advantage of Miroku’s distraction and jumped up onto his shoulder--much to the manager’s dismay. “She almost drowned, but InuYasha saved her. They were both acting kinda weird while we were cleaning the bath, though.” The kitsune’s head bobbed with reserved optimism. “That’s something, I guess.”

Again, Kaede ignored the outburst. “Before lunch, InuYasha demanded that I look her over before I allowed her to do anything more strenuous.”

Hm. Well, it wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind, but…. Mentally, Miroku shrugged. Honestly, it would have taken all the fun out of the game if it were too easy. Besides, Shippou was right. He recalled the brief, telling moment of tension in the kitchen, and allowed a grin to ghost across his lips.

It was definitely something.

Kaede eyed him for a moment. “So, now you are working together.” One graying brow lifted wryly. “You’ve dismissed all your concerns, Miroku?”

“Not dismissed,” he corrected with dignity. “Simply…reconsidered.” His smile was charming and completely unapologetic. “She has quite an interesting affect on him, Kaede. I believe that she may be just what InuYasha needs to move on. That makes the possible rewards worth the risks.”

Shippou crossed his arms and nodded his head wisely, making little grunting sounds of agreement deep in his throat.

Now both gray brows arched. “Have you reconsidered the mystery of Kagome’s previous life as well? It is possible that her affections are otherwise spoken for. That would be quite a dilemma should her memories return.”

Miroku was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “InuYasha is convinced that she is untouched, and I have never seen his instincts wrong in a matter like this.”

Kaede gave him a tolerant look. “I am not talking about the status of her body, lord monk. Nor,” she continued calmly as Miroku opened his mouth, “do I wish to intrude on her privacy by speculating. Affection is not limited to physical expression. Kagome is young and attractive. Do you truly believe she has no one who cares for her?”

Miroku hesitated, then shook his head again, slower this time. “It’s been nearly a month, Kaede. If she did have someone like that, wouldn’t they have come looking for her by now? Wouldn’t some sign of her life show up somewhere?” He gave a blithe shrug; Shippou yelped in protest as he was jostled into clinging for his perch, but he was ignored. “Besides, InuYasha is here now, and this possible someone is not. If Kagome were to find her affections engaged elsewhere, it would be their own fault for not taking proper care of her in the first place. She was near death, after all.”

Kaede’s serene posture didn’t change. “Yes, she was. Under the most unusual circumstances, too. Given that, it surprises me indeed that you’ve put aside your reservations.”

There was a brief pause, marked by a distinctly thoughtful silence, before Miroku sighed. “I’ve been monitoring all the usual channels since she arrived, Kaede. I’ve done extensive searches through every avenue at my disposal and I’ve found nothing. No reports matching her description, no apparent traces of her anywhere in the area, and no match on her fingerprints from any of the databases that I was able to access. No hint at all of where she might have come from. It’s almost as if she were a ghost.”

“Is that not suspicious?”

Miroku frowned, then hummed softly. “It could be. It could just mean that she was and is a model citizan. If she’d never done anything wrong, it wouldn’t show up in my searches. Considering her personality, I don’t find that at all unlikely.”

“It could be that someone is deliberately making her look like a ghost.” She sounded like she was testing him.

“Or it could be that she was deliberately trying to become one herself,” he countered easily. Then he sighed. “If she did come here to harm us in some way, she’s doing a poor job of it, isn’t she? She’s already had ample opportunity to sabotage every single one of us if she desired.”

He clamped his jaw shut, allowing a moment for that sobering truth sink in. “Has it occurred to you, Kaede, that she’s more like the rest of us than we realize? It’s very likely that somebody wants her dead.” He paused again, then lifted an eyebrow. “Besides, what do expect her to do? Sit here and wait for a life that may never be returned to her--regardless of whether she wants it back or not?”

Shippou’s voice startled them both with its solemnity. “But why would anyone want to hurt Kagome?”

Miroku slanted a serious gaze at the kitsune on his shoulder. “That’s the important question, of course.” A frown creased his smooth skin as his dark brows pulled low. “And I’m guessing the only way to answer it is to find out who she is. Unfortunately, that’s proving a rather difficult task.”

Shippou was silent for a moment, mulling over Miroku’s words. “But….” A trace of fear had shaded his features, lurking in the depths of his voice. “Won’t whoever it was come after her again?”

Miroku hesitated again, a brief glint darkening his gaze. “Killers don’t hunt people they think are already dead, Shippou.”

Green eyes blinked, then widened with a comprehension that seemed to belie the young face and mixed in with poorly hidden sparks of joy and triumph. “So we have to keep her.”

A faint smile flickered across the lips of the older woman still settled comfortably in her chair. “Your reasoning becomes clear at last, eh, monk?”

Miroku’s smile managed to be only slightly uneasy, and more than slightly modest. “I am only doing what I believe is best for everyone involved.”

“Yourself included?”

The grin widened almost imperceptibly. “Naturally. Did I mention the affect she has on the harsher aspects of our hanyou’s nature?”

The older woman sat for a moment in placid silence. “And InuYasha?”

All traces of geniality dropped away from Miroku’s expression. “InuYasha most of all. We came here to live, Kaede. If he stops now, even after he’s free, then everything we did to get here is for nothing. It’s time he moved on.”

That gave the older woman momentary pause. Sorrow filtered onto her features, drifted into her sigh. “It happened too fast. So much was left unresolved, and now he is trapped with anger and guilt. They are like wounds that refuse to heal.”

Anger, a rarity for the Sachi’s manager, darkened his face. “Wounds inflicted by someone who claimed to love him.”

The wrinkles on Kaede’s face deepened into a frown. “There was more between them than you or I understand, Miroku. Remember, InuYasha was not the only one to suffer.”

“I know.” The anger faded, and he bowed his head, lines bracketing his mouth. “How could I forget?”

Silence descended over the group as they stood, sat and perched in the chill seeping through the living room.

Finally, Miroku sighed and shook off his melancholy. “We can’t change the past, Kaede, and it’s foolish to let it rule us. It’s time for him to stop wallowing in what he couldn’t change. Kagome may be able to help InuYasha realize that.”

Kaede’s serene expression returned, softening the remorse. “You may be right.” Then she also sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “Very well. We will see about this strategy of yours.” With that, she turned and shuffled towards the door leading out into the reception area. “It is late. I shall retire to the cabin.” She paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “Shippou is filthy, Miroku. See that he has a bath before he follows.”

Miroku looked startled. “What? Me? But I have work to….” He trailed off as the older woman disappeared from the doorway. After a moment, he gave a long-suffering sigh, then looked at the kitsune still hanging silently from his shoulder, his thoughtful expression taking in everything the two adults had said. “Well, you’d better finish up in here. We still have supplies to bring in from the truck, too.”

Shippou nodded and leapt to the floor to return to his task. “I’ll hurry,” he said, picking up the shovel and the bag. “I have a new trick I want to show you anyway.”

Miroku frowned. “No transforming in the bath, Shippou,” he reminded the youkai.

Shippou pouted. “Can’t I take a bath with Kagome instead? She’s more fun than you are.”

Miroku sighed again. “No doubt. It is too bad the baths aren’t co-ed.” He closed his eyes to savor the mental image. “I’m certain we would both have a lovely time bathing with Kagome.”

Shippou glared suspiciously at the blissful grin that had swept across his features before shoving another shovel-full of soot into the bag. “On second thought, better not. InuYasha says that it’s my job to keep an eye on your perverted hands and make sure they stay away from Kagome when he’s not around.”

One of Miroku’s eyes popped open. “I thought you two weren’t on speaking terms.”

The auburn head didn’t even glance up. “He told me that weeks ago, right after Kagome came to stay with us.”

Miroku shook his head mournfully. “You shouldn’t listen to InuYasha when he says things like that, Shippou. He’s corrupting you.”

The kitsune’s shoulders bobbed. “That’s pretty much what he says about you, too. He says if I listen to half the things you say, I’ll end up as perverted an adult as you.” Oblivious to the dismayed slump of Miroku’s shoulders, he turned to concentrate on the remainder of his task, and all was quiet in the room save for the soft scrape of the shovel clearing out the remaining ashes from the fireplace.

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

Warmth always seemed to hover longer in the kitchen than in any other room in the Sachi, a fact that Kagome pondered with absent thankfulness as she waited for InuYasha to decide his next move. Because of her earlier dunking, she’d been fighting off a chill all day, and the thermal atmosphere and lingering remnants of dinner made for a pleasant way to end the evening. The only thing that could have made it better was a steaming cup of tea between her hands, but she was too settled in her chair at the moment to put out the effort it would take to make one.

Another hollow clack echoed through the kitchen as InuYasha moved his bishop closer to her king, then sat back with a faint, challenging smirk. “Check.”

Kagome sighed and rested her chin against her knees, lamenting the fact that sitting in one position for so long had caused her backside to go numb--mostly because it meant she would have to move sometime in the near future. Her gray eyes trained on the board and the scattered arrangement of wedged pieces, searching for a way out of her current predicament.

She was losing, of that much she was sure. Not that she really expected to win, or that she really felt bad about not doing so. Practice games such as this one were more about experience than competition anyway; she was learning more in her loss--about both the game and her “opponent”--than a simple win would have taught her anyway.

Besides, she was enjoying herself. InuYasha had, in his own way, taken over for Shippou, and he was proving a challenging teacher. It was all practice and demonstration with InuYasha; he gave her basic clarifications for any moves she didn’t understand, but mostly just let her play and deal with the results as they happened. She had to pay close attention to what he did, or she would miss something. To her surprise, she was learning just as much as she did when Miroku verbally walked her through each part of his strategy.

As the game had moved on, he had seemed more and more satisfied with her ability, and even the brief explanations had slowed. Even so, they’d managed to keep up a steady stream of harmless conversation, smattered with the occasional spate of companionable silence. But it was obvious the game was winding down now, and it was getting late. She was probably no more than a few moves away from being checkmated. A curl of wistfulness seeped through her stomach at the thought of their evening coming to an end.

Kagome chewed on her bottom lip, then reached out and tentatively moved her rook forward, hoping to provide her king with a temporary shield and force InuYasha to move a different piece. From the corner of her eyes, she caught the almost imperceptible hint of a smile as the corners of his mouth quirked upward. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling in return, having realized some time ago that he only reacted that way when he thought she’d done something smart. “How long do you think it will take for the bath to be completely fixed?”

His eyes flashed briefly up from the board, but he didn’t seem at all fazed by the abrupt question. His attention dropped back to the game and his brows knit in thought for a moment before he shrugged. “A couple weeks, maybe. Miroku will order the pipes we need online and have them shipped out here.” He paused, then blew out a breath. “We’ll have to shut down the damn bath again while I replace the cracked ones.”

Kagome felt her lips twitch at the faint irritation that had crept into his voice, and bowed her head to hide it. The frown that darkened his features was as commonplace at the Sachi as the steady stream of tourists during winter; none of its residents paid any mind to his testiness. She’d grown so used to it in the past few weeks that most of the time it only made her want to giggle. She’d come to the conclusion that his grumbles were less complaint than habitual acceptance anyway. The Sachi’s hanyou owner took on his responsibilities like he took on breathing, and carried them out with a matter-of-fact dependability that was almost amusing to watch. It didn’t matter what they happened to be, and it didn’t matter how surly he was while doing them; he always made sure they got done.

It was something she admired about him.

Oblivious to her smile and her ponderings, he dropped in a bishop that he had taken from her earlier in the game. She sighed, at a momentary loss. He’d been careful to position the piece outside the range of her protective rook, and she knew she was in serious trouble. “Was Miroku the one to teach you how to play shogi, InuYasha?”

He looked surprised. “Teach me? Hell no.” Amber eyes skimmed over her features. “I knew how to play shogi a long time before I met Miroku. Where’d you get that idea?”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Well…. When we talked about it that first time, it sounded like you hadn’t played much before you came to the Sachi. I guess I just assumed….”

The black of his eyebrows quirked upward into an odd look. “Keh. You shouldn’t make assumptions,” he said gruffly. He nodded in the general direction of her head. “They can get you into trouble, and you’ve already had enough of that to last you a while.”

Self-consciously, her fingers rose to touch on the faint scar disappearing into her hairline. “I suppose….” The wound had healed over nicely, leaving only a faint line to indicate that she’d ever been hurt in the first place. The scar was the only physical remnant of the mystery that had brought her to the Sachi. Some days, she forgot it was even there.

He was right, though; if ever there were a sign of trouble, a gunshot wound to the head would be it. Trouble, huh? Her lips gave a wry twist, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, and she drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

If you only knew the half of it.

Her smile faded abruptly. Wait…. The breath stuck in her lungs, and her eyes dropped to stare unseeing at the board. What?

A shadow of disquiet fell across her mind, and a vaguely grim, nauseous sensation swirled somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers pressed against her lips and she swallowed a gasp at the unexplained flash of anxiety, of suffocation. For just a moment, it felt almost as if she were being…stalked.

Her forehead tensed as she found herself suddenly afraid and trying to shake it off.

What…. What was that? It wasn’t a memory, of that much she was sure. It was more like a…. Like an insight, maybe? She hadn’t meant to think it, and it had been more feeling than anything concrete. She didn’t understand why, or what it meant, but….

He doesn’t know the half of what, Kagome?

….But she had the unsettling feeling that she should.

“Kagome?”

His voice startled her and she looked up, blinking hard.

InuYasha was watching her intently, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle. He looked almost concerned. Gooseflesh rippled along her skin, and she shivered, her eyes darting a covert glance at him from the cover of her lashes.

He must have caught the telltale tremble, because his standard frown slipped effortlessly back into place. “Hey…. You’re not getting sick, are you? You should take it easy. You were in those wet clothes for a while, and the last thing we need going into tourist season is one of us getting sick.”

She couldn’t help the warm little quirk of her lips at the effortless way the word ‘us’ slipped past his lips, but she just shook her head, gratefully releasing the oddness of the moment. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.” As if to prove her words, she moved her silver general, plunking it down right behind her king, providing an additional range of cover that would be hard for him to get around.

His eyes narrowed skeptically, but after a moment, he just shrugged and turned back to the more productive task of studying the board.

Her smile widened just a bit as she studied the look of concentration on his face. “So…. If it wasn’t Miroku, who did teach you how to play?”

“My father.” His fingers strummed idly along the table, a short series of dull thuds against the wood. “When I was just a kid.”

Family again, she thought wistfully as she watched him pluck up another of her captured pieces and turn it absently in his fingers. “That must have been nice.”

“Not really.” His lip curled slightly. “He made me practice with the asshole.”

Kagome blinked, then turned wide eyes on him. “Who?”

He snorted. “The asshole. My half-brother.”

Oh. She almost rolled her eyes, recalling how he’d referred to his existing family earlier in the bath. “You didn’t like that?”

He snorted again. “Are you kidding? That stuck-up bastard hated me from the moment I was born. Not real happy about the whole hanyou thing.” He slapped the piece in his hand onto a rectangle with considerably more force than necessary. “I wasn’t all that overjoyed by him, either.”

She winced, then took in the move. A pawn. She frowned, considering both his words and the game. Half-brother…. Hanyou…. Does that mean his brother is full youkai, or…. “Is he human?”

His whole body jerked, and he darted a sharp glance at her, his brows twisted up incredulously, as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d said that. “Sesshoumaru? Human?” He stared at her for a moment. Then his mouth curved, and he gave a clipped, snorting bark of laughter. “He’d rip you in two for even suggesting it.”

“Oh….” Youkai, then. She tilted her head, trying to understand. “All right…. You two didn’t get along. And so…. Your father had you play games with each other?”

InuYasha crossed his arms and sat back against his chair. “He told us we had to learn how to work together.”

She blinked at him. “Did you?”

He hesitated for a long moment. “You could say that.” His tone was oddly blank. “We…played regularly for years.”

She nearly smiled. “Years? You must have gotten along all right if you were able to play games together for that long.”

“Keh.” His disgruntlement was back. “The only reason I kept playing was so I could beat the bastard.” A shrug. “I didn’t play with anyone else until I met Miroku.”

Kagome shifted in her seat, finally unfolding her legs from beneath her in an effort to restore circulation. Almost idly, she reached out and pushed one of her own pawns forward. “Did you ever beat him?”

He frowned at her move before his lips gave a tiny upward quirk. “Yeah.”

She grinned, amused by the gloating tone. “So you played for years and then you just stopped? Why? Don’t you like shogi?”

“It’s fine.” His mutter was reserved and distracted. His fingers resumed their intermittent tapping along the table as he glared at the game pieces. “I just didn’t know anyone else who played.”

Her eyes rested on the restless strum of his fingers for another moment of quiet reflection before she indulged her curiosity once again. “Is that when you and your brother stopped talking?”

She wasn’t looking at him directly, but she caught the motion as his dark brows snapped low over his eyes and his jaw clamped tight.

“No.” His voice had gone flat, monotone, inhospitable, and she nearly flinched. He pushed another of his pawns forward. “That was more recent.”

“Oh.” She trailed her fingers along the wooden edge of the shogi board, staring hard at the arrangement of pieces. She knew she wasn’t paying as much attention as she should be, but she didn’t care. The sense of enigma that sometimes lingered in the Sachi’s hallways, that vague, frustrating sense of reserve that wrapped around InuYasha whenever she brought up his past, was far more intriguing than trying to figure out a game that she was only half-sure she knew how to play.

She her teeth grazed the corner of her mouth. “Was….” She hesitated for just a fraction before continuing. “Was he the reason you left Tokyo?”

InuYasha stiffened, and his scowl darkened; his fingers stopped their movements and he didn’t look up from the game. He didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Kagome sighed and sat forward in her chair, reaching for a random piece. “It feels sad to me--you and your brother, I mean.” She traced the sweeping lines of the kanji pattern with a nail. “If I knew I still had family somewhere--” there was that wistfulness again, creeping stealthily into her voice without her permission, “--I think that I’d want to know that they were doing all right, even if we didn’t get along very well.”

She could almost feel the surprise in his eyes as they lifted to study her. The silence dragged, and, for lack of a better action, she finally moved her only remaining knight in a lame attempt at stalking his king.

Then he gave a soft huff of exasperation. “The asshole’s not the reason I left Tokyo,” he groused. “But he is why we came here.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, a brief flash of bronzed amber. “I guess you should be grateful. Anyone else wouldn’t have found you in that river.”

His tetchiness brought a twitch to her lips. “I am grateful.” Her grin widened. “I’m very grateful. Maybe I should call him and thank him.”

He glared down at their game. “We don’t call him. We don’t need anything from that bastard.” He fell silent, then snorted again. “Besides, it’s not like he’s the one who actually saved you.”

The disgruntlement in the comment was unexpected, and her gaze flew to his profile. Another smile softened her features. “I know,” she said quietly. “So I guess I should thank you first.”

The faintest hint of a blush colored the skin along the bridge of his nose, and his shoulders rose in a shrug. “Keh.”

The corners of her lips turned up a little more as she found herself oddly charmed by his discomfort. Impulsively, she reached out and rested her fingers against the back of his hand to draw his attention. “Thank you, InuYasha,” her voice reflected her innate sincerity, “for finding me… and for bringing me here.”

His eyes rose, almost as if against his will, to lock with hers for the first time since their encounter in the bath. In the warm tones of the kitchen light, they seemed deep and almost luminescent, a particularly rich shade of gold, laced through with an intensity that struck her. She drew in a breath, air hissing through her teeth; gooseflesh rippled across her skin and she shivered again, smoothing a hand absently along her arm.

His gaze shifted, flitting downward. A displeased frown creased his brow, and he sat forward, reaching out an arm. Then she felt the heat of his palm, pushing her hair back and resting heavy against her forehead. “You sure you’re not sick?”

His voice… It was doing that deep-rough thing again.

Her eyes widened, and she felt her pupils dilate with the shock of unexpected contact. Her heart gave an excited leap into her throat and a thrill skittered through her insides, tensing her muscles and stealing her air. “InuYasha….”

For a brief moment--just a spare breath, really--his eyes heated with the fine spark of awareness, and his pupils, with their oddly slit shape, contracted.

He didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

Then he blinked, hard and abrupt. He let out an irritated “tch” of dismissal and yanked his hand away from her skin with a mumbled curse. “You’re sure as hell acting sick. You should be in bed.”

Disappointment charged through her like a tiny static shock. Before she realized what she was doing, Kagome’s hands moved to grasp at his retreating one. His eyes widened just a fraction as she enveloped his hand in both of hers. He sucked in a breath, then covered it with a scowl.

“I’m fine,” she said. Exhilaration at her own daring had added to the breathy quality of her voice--she hoped he didn’t notice. Her fingers tightened around his palm, hyper-aware of the warmth of the skin beneath her own. “Besides, we’re still not done with the game.”

For a heart-stopping moment, InuYasha didn’t react. He just sat there and stared at her, his expression frozen in that scowl. Then, with a start, he was sitting all the way back in his seat, their hands separated. He stared at her for another heartbeat, a strange glint in his eye. “You want to finish the game?”

She nodded, her faint smile returning.

He gave another muted “keh” and straightened in his seat. Using a single claw, he pushed his bishop several spaces along a diagonal line, bringing it perpendicular to her king. “Checkmate.”

“What?” She sat upright and placed her hands flat against the table. A few moments of study confirmed that she had no further moves available to her. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.” She sighed and glanced up, offering him a tentative smile. “I guess you won.”

He grunted and crossed his arms. “Of course I did. The game is over.” He was looking away again, the silver hair of his bangs falling low to shadow his eyes, hiding his expression. “You should get some sleep now. It’s been a long day, and more of those damn tourists will be here tomorrow.”

For a moment, Kagome couldn’t bring herself to respond with more than a non-committal hum. Her eyes drifted over the shogi set and its array of pieces; then, with a deep breath and a surge of energy, she pushed herself to her feet and started gathering up the loose wedges scattered across the tabletop.

The soft clack of tiles sounded lonely in the silence. InuYasha didn’t budge from his seat. He didn’t say a word as she stored everything away in the box. It was only when she tried to grab the board that he stirred restlessly in his seat.

“Leave it. I’ll take care of it.”

She hesitated, then slanted him a glance. “InuYasha….”

He still wasn’t looking at her; his arms remained crossed, his posture hunched back against his chair, and his tone flat. Her fingers clenched. Maybe she shouldn’t have touched him. Maybe she shouldn’t have held his hand like that.

But, well….

He’d started it; he’d touched her first, right? All she’d done was hold his hand for a few seconds at the most. So why was he suddenly so closed? Why the complete withdrawal? The night had been going so well. They’d been having fun. What had she done to….

“Kagome! Are you deaf? I said--”

“Ooooh!” She slapped the box down onto the now-clear board, and it clattered as the tiles smacked against each other. “I heard you!”

Why did he always do that? Why was it that every single time it felt as if they were…. As if something was….

“Then what the hell are you still standing around like an idiot for?”

She eyed the box on the table and debated chucking the whole thing at his head.

Stubborn, impulsive, rude….

She decided that throwing the shogi pieces would only result in her having to pick them back up again. She glared at the game, all neatly stacked and stored as if they’d never played, and then at the hanyou still sitting at odds to her. One of his feet tapped out an impatient rhythm against the floor; his fists were clenched so tightly against his arms that she could see white edging his skin; he appeared to be glaring at the other side of the room.

Obnoxious, intractable….

She swallowed around the thick knot in her chest, a build-up of confused and conflicted emotions that had been abruptly left with no place to go. His fault. He’d shut her out with no apparent reason, and now he was treating her like some kind of enemy.

Frustrating….

Anger bubbled up in her stomach. “I was just trying to help. You don’t need to snap at me.”

That got her a growl. “I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone.”

Another verbal slap in the face. He did that a lot, too.

Selfish….

Her lips compressed into a thin line. Her back straightened on an indrawn sniff. “Fine!”

Jerk!

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the kitchen, not stopping until she’d had the extreme satisfaction of slamming the door to her room shut behind her. Then she opened it and slammed it again.

What is wrong with him?!

It was hours of tossing and turning and brooding before she was finally able to drop off into a weary slumber.

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

InuYasha! InuYasha! Wake up!

The hanyou stirred, griped, then rolled over in the dark. His face pressed into the pillow beneath him and his ears flattened against his head as a war started up between his senses and his subconscious; his subconscious was strongly resistant to his senses yanking him from the deep, dreamless state of sleep he’d fought so hard to get into in the first place.

InuYasha! Wake up!

A faint growl rumbled in his throat as he fought to stay within the comfort of darkness. He was beyond tired tonight, completely drained from the day’s events. All he wanted was a brief reprieve.

Kagome’s sick! You have to come!

Against his will, his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring at the edge of his bedding, where the faint paleness of the futon made a stark contrast against the dark tatami weave underneath it.

What the hell?! Shippou?!

He jerked upright, his blankets falling silently to pile at his waist, his body on automatic while the more sluggish parts of his mind struggled to catch up. His eyes scanned the deep shadows of his room and his ears pricked for suspicious sounds, searching for the source of the disturbance that had dared to interrupt his slumber.

His brow knit. He gave a few cautious sniffs, testing the air. He had long ago fine-tuned his youkai senses to alert him to approaching danger; years of training and experience had taught him to pick up on the specific feel and smell of approaching maliciousness. A hint of threat always accompanied such a sensation, and he was very good at reacting quickly enough to keep from getting hurt.

He didn’t feel any warnings tonight. Everything was silent and calm and harmonious. No distinct sense of danger grated at his instincts, no legitimately out-of-place smells to justify pulling him awake. Not even the random creaks and groans of the Sachi’s old structure seemed off. Nothing wrong at all, as far as he could tell.

So why the hell was he awake?

His eyes narrowed.

He was sure he’d heard a voice, and that voice had sounded suspiciously like one very troublesome little fox. But that didn’t make any sense, because it wasn’t even daylight yet. What the hell would the kid be doing out of bed and back in the Sachi so early? Shippou wouldn’t even make the short trip through the dark on his own when everyone else was awake--never mind the fact that going outside right now would probably turn his stupid puffy tail to a stupid puffy block of ice.

With a disgusted sigh, he flopped back onto his futon, ignoring the chill of the air against his bare chest.

Fuck.

He’d only just gotten to sleep, too. He’d been tossing and turning for hours; not even a late-night run had been able to chase away the restlessness. Now he would have to go through the whole dreaming process again to get back into the undisturbed sleep that he craved.

InuYasha hated dreaming. That was the time when the mind was at its most defenseless, its most out of control. That was when even memories you thought you had beaten could sometimes come back to bite you on the ass.

He despised it when that happened. He hated--hated, hated, hated--being reminded of the smells and sounds and pain that had been burned so vividly into his brain. He dreaded reliving what could arguably be called the worst night of his life.

Not that it happened all the time, or that it had even happened recently, but still….

He hated dreaming.

This was all Kagome’s fault. Because she’d dared to touch him in a way that no one had touched him in so long. Because she’d been so soft and gentle about it, and he couldn’t make himself forget it.

He’d sat in that damn kitchen for almost an hour after he’d chased her away. Fuming. Furious. With her. With himself. With his whole damn life.

It had been stupid of him to touch her in the first place, but he’d had a legitimate reason. If she got sick, it would be his fault. He’d allowed her to get into the state she’d been in earlier. He’d tried to stop her from cleaning out the baths, but the damn woman had simply ignored him.

When she hadn’t been ordering him around.

A scowl drew his brows low as he let his eyes slip closed once again. She’d been getting awfully brave around him lately, hadn’t she? The timidity that had so irritated him during her first few weeks here had evaporated. It seemed she’d grown comfortable with herself and her position within the Sachi; and, while he might (grudgingly) admit that the newfound confidence suited her, it sure as hell wasn’t making his life any easier.

He’d been desperate to clear his head somehow, and had settled on a run. The cold air and brisk smells would be bracing enough to occupy his mind. It’d been a while since he’d last gone running at night anyway, and casing the territory around the Sachi was probably a good idea. The few wild youkai that still roamed the more secluded parts of the forest needed to be reminded to keep their distance--and he had definitely needed the distraction. He’d known he would need to be exhausted before he would sleep the way he wanted to anyway.

For all the good it had done.

His scowl grew fierce. Damn the woman. Now she was disturbing his sleep as well as his peace of mind. As if he didn’t get precious little enough of both.

He sighed out in frustration--another rumble that passed effortlessly from his throat--and tried to will himself to bypass REM’s sleep entirely.

InuYasha! Kagome needs you!

“What the fuck!” He bolted upright once again, not certain he’d actually heard the voice, or if he was just imagining it. It sure as hell sounded like Shippou, but he couldn’t smell….

His ears twitched as he caught the faint sounds of scuffling out in the hallway beyond his door. It was definitely the sound of Shippou scampering…. Maybe. His brows twisted again. What the hell is the brat doing over here this early in the morning?!

Frowning, he shoved away his pile of blankets and stumbled to his feet, grimacing at the discomfort of the jeans he’d neglected to shed before falling into bed. Normally he slept in sweatpants that were far less restrictive, but tonight all he’d wanted was a distraction--any distraction--from Kagome’s touch in the kitchen. His only ambition coming into his room had been to sleep, long and hard. Too bad it hadn’t worked.

Damn bitch.

Snagging his shirt from the floor where he’d shucked it earlier, he pulled it over his head as he stepped out into the chilly hallway. His expression boded ill for the kitsune who had dared to interrupt the unconsciousness that he’d worked so hard to achieve, but said kitsune had already disappeared from sight by the time his gaze had raked along the corridor outside his room. His ears twitched at the light patter of fox paws treading down the next hall.

His lip lifted in a snarl, though his voice held only just the volume he figured it needed to reach the kit. “Hey, Shippou, you brat! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

No response, just a faster-sounding series of thumps.

Shaking his head, and muttering under his breath as he considered various possible scenarios to deal with foxes-who-disturbed-sleep, InuYasha followed. His footsteps thudded dully on the icy floorboards, the only other sound as he followed the kit through the Sachi’s maze of rooms and passageways.

After a few minutes of walking but not catching up to his prey, InuYasha frowned. “Shippou! Where the hell are you going?” Despite his irritation, he kept his voice quiet, reasonably certain that Shippou would be able to hear him whereas the other humans in the inn wouldn’t. When he didn’t get an answer, his eyes narrowed and he pulled to an abrupt halt in the middle of a hallway.

His teeth clenched in his mouth, holding in a rolling growl. That damn kit had better not be trying to pull another one of his pranks. Ever since Kagome had turned up the brat had been full of them, big and small, and he wasn’t about to let himself become victim to yet another--

Wait. Didn’t he say Kagome was sick?

He blinked, his face going blank. He knew she’d been acting a strange in the kitchen. He was relatively sure that at least some of it was because of him, but if she was suffering affects from her dousing earlier….

Damn. I knew I shouldn’t have let her help with cleaning out the bath. All that damp after being hot and cold…. Dammit!

He started forward once again, this time with purpose, treading determinedly from one hallway to the next, not even bothering to notice if he was still following Shippou or not. The pre-dawn morning made the hallways dark, but he didn’t have to see where he was going to know where to go. Kagome’s scent had become intertwined with the scent of the Sachi, as much a part of the air as the coldness and the trees, or even his own scent, and it only thickened as he neared her room on the opposite side of the inn.

The door leading into the former spare room was shut. He paused just in front of it, his ears canting forward to listen intently for any unusual sounds. He didn’t hear anything but the normal cadence of deep sleep coming from beyond the door. No shifting around, so sounds of discomfort or disturbance.

He almost turned around to leave, disgusted with himself and with Shippou--if the kitsune had actually been real and not a figment of his overactive, sleep-deprived imagination. But then he caught the wooden outline of a sign. A sign that had somehow been affixed to the wall next to her door.

He frowned. A sign? Near Kagome’s room? He’d never seen one of those ridiculous things in this area of the Sachi. This was where much of the housekeeping equipment was stored; not many people came back here. The sign was completely in kanji, too. His eyes narrowed again as he read the carved characters within the borders of the plaque.

Sickroom: Highly contagious sick person within.

And, just to be absolutely sure that no one mistook the room, a short wooden arrow underneath the characters pointed the way to Kagome’s door.

For several moments he just stood there, blinking in disbelief. He went through another short battle, waging war between the ludicrousness of allowing a sign to push him into anything, and the shard of concern that was prodding at the back of his mind.

He reached up. Scratched impatiently at his forehead with a single claw. Gave a resigned roll of his eyes. Turned back to his housekeeper’s room.

Ignoring the twist of warning in his gut, he slid the door open. The female in question lay against the far side of the small room, snuggled comfortably on a nest made up of warm blankets, a thick futon, and a pillow. Being at the very back of the inn, her room had a set of windows on one wall, and the cool glow of pre-dawn was just starting to lighten the panes. When the sun was up at full strength, the light would bath her entire body, surrounding her in warmth and most likely waking her from whatever dreams she was having now.

He didn’t want to think about that.

His bare feet carried him into the room, tread silent. Some part of his brain was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. It probably was, but…. He would only stay for a moment. Just long enough to make sure she wasn’t getting sick.

Hesitantly, he knelt next to her futon. His eyes studied her supine form and leaned forward, one hand bracing against the soft edge of the futon--making sure to stay a few good, cautious inches away from any part of her body.

She shifted suddenly, startling him, and his gaze shot to her face, straining through the early morning dimness; his eyes traced her sleep-softened features, noting the way the black strands of her hair spread loose and untamed against her pillow. A shallow breath slipped through his throat, and he ran a knuckle across her forehead, careful of his claw. Her lids fluttered, but stayed closed.

Exasperation twisted his features into a scowl. She seemed fine--no sign of a fever. He drew in a deep breath and held it, searching for the sourness that always predicted an illness. Nothing. What the hell had that little brat been talking about anyway?

Of their own volition, his eyes drifted downward, along the even rise and fall of her body. She was mostly hidden beneath her blanket, but he could easily make out the soft curve and points of her breasts. She was wearing a yukata--and probably nothing else. His breath hitched.

Damn.

Common sense smacked him upside the head with the idiocy, the wrongness of invading her room to watch her sleep--health concern or no. This was something Miroku might do, not him. The whole expedition had been stupid, and he needed to go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Now.

He sucked in a sharp breath and started to back away.

He froze as she shifted again, her head angling toward him on the little buckwheat pillow. Her hair slipped from the movement, falling over her face, catching his gaze.

Automatically, his hand reached out, his fingers brushed the strands away.

Her eyes fluttered again, and her lips drew his eyes when they parted to murmur vaguely. Against his will, he watched his fingers drift across her face to brush over their smooth surface. It was what he’d done earlier in the hallway, except this time he lingered, this time he let himself really feel them. They were soft, full; their dry texture made them almost silky to the touch. Her warm, humid breath swamped over the pads of his fingers as they hovered uncertainly, followed quickly by cooler air as she inhaled.

Her eyes slid open and, suddenly, half-moons of gray rested on him with the unfocused, heavy tolerance of slumber. His eyes widened and his heart jumped; he found himself unable to move, to think, to react. But all she did was murmur again, and his ears caught the sound as his name washed softly over his fingertips.

Then her own hand was lifting from its resting place beside her head. In slow motion, it reached for him…. Her fingers brushed across his mouth…. It was the same touch, the same caress he’d just spread across hers….

His nose twitched. Her fingertips carried a slightly different tinge from the rest of her body, but it wasn’t at all displeasing. Her scent was clean, with only the faintest hints of the soap and lotion she used for her bath. Whatever she used for her lotion and her shampoo, it was all the same, some pleasant blend of flower and aloe, with a marked lack of heavy perfumes. The fragrance was light, and lingered on her skin like a warm kiss, complementing her own natural scent without overpowering it.

It appealed to him, more than he would ever admit aloud. It enticed him, pulled at him, a mysterious draw that such a simple scent shouldn’t possess.

Her fingers were gentle, giving delicate, almost absent strokes. Her eyes hadn’t yet come fully open, leading him to the distant conclusion that she was still at least half-asleep. Her lips distracted him for an instant when they curved ever so slightly upward; then her fingers were on his cheek, and she was tugging him down. He watched in fascination, almost disjointed from the action as he followed her lead, as her face got closer.

Then her lips were pressing softly against his.

His eyes widened again. Tiny electric pulses prickled hotly all over his skin, fed by the touch of her mouth. His gut clenched as the air whooshed from his lungs, only to rush back in heavy with her scent. Thick heat shot straight to his groin, and a groan echoed somewhere in his mind as it tried to find an exit in his throat. The thought of pushing her away crossed his mind--somewhere, dimly--but his body ignored it completely.

The pressure lessened as she pulled back, just a tiny movement of her head, just enough so that her lips could part and draw breath against his. She sighed, and her lashes fluttered. Lifted.

Clear eyes. Warm eyes. Soft, gray, drowsy…. Inviting eyes. Bedroom eyes.

They focused, lazily taking in his features before locking with his own; startled awareness jumped through the sensuality. They rounded, and he knew for sure that she’d been unaware of her actions, that it had been some sort of dream-hazed, sleep-induced madness.

Not that he cared.

Kagome gasped, her head falling back the small distance to her pillow. He followed, bending forward on his knees, his arms shifting, bracing against the futon, taking his weight, unwilling to release her to retreat. His head dipped to find her mouth with his own, sealing their lips together while they were still slightly parted.

She froze beneath him, her eyes glazing with shock. He increased the pressure, resting his weight on the free hand that sank into the cushion near her head. His hair fell over his shoulder to tangle with hers. His fingers spread across her cheek, clinging to the soft, fine texture; the pad of his thumb stroked a delicate line along her jaw. He was deliberately gentle, coaxing at her mouth, nudging at her lips to widen them further, angling his head to deepen the kiss when she hesitantly complied.

Tempting her back into the madness.

Her eyelids fluttered once again, then drifted closed. Her body relaxed, and she sighed her acceptance into his mouth. Her other hand came up to clutch at his shirt.

Her lips were still parted, and he desperately wanted to taste her, but held off, reveling instead in the contours of her mouth as it molded to his. The only other way he touched her was with the hand still on her face, holding her in place while his mouth pressed over hers, inviting her to explore, allowing only the occasional gasp to slip through the wet heat sealing them together.

Her fingers were stroking his cheek, curling and uncurling in a strange pulling motion, almost as if she were beckoning him closer. Her hesitation vanished in moments, and then she was pushing back, pressing harder against him in rising enthusiasm. Her nails scratched at him faintly, and he held back a pleased growl as the prospect of them digging into his shoulders or scraping the skin from his back flashed through his mind. Then he felt the moisture of her tongue, probing delicately against the inner edges of his teeth, a flicker of encouragement.

Triumph sliced through him at the timid gesture. He responded immediatly, twining his tongue around hers and sinking fully into the kiss. The muscles in his arm tensed as his body lowered to hover just over hers. She gasped, the warmth of it caught in his mouth and given back to her. Her hand cupped the side of his face, urging him more firmly against her.

His eyes closed. Finally, he was tasting her. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d wanted it, how long he’d waited--since almost that first instant of connection in this stupid little room. After ignoring it for so long, the craving was intense.

He didn’t question, didn’t think more than that--just gave over completely and savored the moment, memorizing her flavor, her feel, the hollows and textures and sharp points of her mouth. Her softness. Her breath caught, and the excited little hitch almost brought a growl of satisfaction to his throat.

Instead, he kissed her harder, pushing her head back into the pillow, searching for more. Her taste lingered against his tongue. Her scent invaded his nostrils, filling his lungs and overwhelming his senses. The only reason he kept breathing at all was so that he could measure the changes in her, use his sense of smell to track her body’s response to him.

A rush of hot need spread through him like a wildfire set in his blood, hardening him, making him ache. Aggression built, pushing an energized hum through his veins. His nerve endings were charged, on edge, and his whole body was alert, tuned to the soft contours--more sensed than felt--of the body beneath him.

His fingers tightened on her jaw, yanking firmly to keep them together. Her tongue pushed against his, more insistent, more demanding. Breath he relegated to short gasps, mere annoyance. The press of her mouth became harder--his, more desperate.

The slightly rough texture of his tongue slicked along the roof of her mouth, and he released her for just an instant as his teeth dug into the soft skin of her lower lip, tugging gently. She barely had time to draw in a gasp before he was back, the heat of his mouth searing against hers, the slow patience crumbling to dust in the face of a throbbing, prodding urgency. This time she opened wide, curling her tongue around his, an insistent demand that he not leave her warmth again.

His lip curled, and the growl he’d suppressed before escaped; she let out a low, keening whimper. The sounds were loud in the thick silence of the air around them. They tore through the magnetic pull that had drawn them together, and reality crashed between them like a shock of freezing water.

The kiss broke as he jerked back, eyes flying open to stare down into her stunned ones. Her breathing was as labored as his. Chests heaved, lungs grabbing desperately for air. His hand dragged away from her face; her fingers pulled away from his, and her hand relinquished his shirt. He pushed up with his hand, sitting back onto his knees as she pulled her hips below her, her hands clutching the blanket to her chest.

“Inuyasha…. I-- Y-you--” She faltered for just a moment, voice more breath than sound. “I…. I don’t know w-what--”

“Don’t.” His voice was harsh, and his brows tensed, his features reflecting the tone. “Don’t start. It wasn’t…” You. Damn. He couldn’t even say that. Not anymore than he could say it wasn’t him. She’d kissed him first, but he….

He….

He raked an agitated hand through his hair, oddly infuriated to find it trembling. His control felt tenuous at best. Adrenaline roared through his system, and lust--the thick, aggressive, animalistic kind--had locked every muscle in his body in an iron grip. He wanted to leave, he wanted to turn and run, but his body wouldn’t obey him.

Godsdamn, but he didn’t want to stop. He could see it, almost feel what it would be like to go on. He could almost hear the sounds in her throat, taste the sweat on her body. Feel the blinding rush of ecstasy, the pleasure of being encased in a woman’s body. His blood surged through his veins, his damn cock pressing painfully against the confining zipper. His teeth snapped in his mouth with the effort of staying still.

That’s. Not. Helping!

His hand fisted where it rested against his thigh. He hadn’t felt this kind of animalistic desire in years. He was only a few thin layers of rational thought away from pushing her back onto the futon and continuing what they’d started. His body and his brain fought a battle that his brain was only half-convinced it wanted to win. He was barely keeping himself together.

It was ridiculous to be like this after a simple kiss. Hell, he hadn’t even really touched her properly! What the hell had possessed him? Why didn’t he just get up and leave, get away from her right now?

It was a just kiss! A simple, stupid kiss!

His mind scoffed. Simple? Do you even know how long you were practically on top of her? A glance at the window had him cursing under his breath at how light the sky had become.

“InuYasha?” The huskiness of her whisper raked across his ears, and he nearly jumped. He looked up to find her eyes fixed on him.

She looked incredibly tempting just sitting there, staring back at him with shock-rounded eyes. Everything from her clothes to her hair was mussed from sleep; her mouth was full, glistening and slightly swollen from the attention of his. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly beneath the thin cloth of her yukata.

“Why….” She swallowed, and his eyes traced the ripple in her throat. “Why did you stop?”

Why did I…. His eyes widened, and he went still. Oh shit, oh shit. She didn’t just say what I think she said. But a glance at her face confirmed her confusion, the longing and heat in her eyes. She would let him continue if he wanted. No, she wanted him to continue. If he pushed it, she might even be willing to…. Oh shit.

Her scent had laced strongly through the air in the small room; the thick, heady spice filled his lungs and messed with his head, clouding his thoughts. He felt stuck, trapped. Unable to move forward, unable to move back--unable to move from this godsdamned spot!--as he stared at her through the fragile silence.

“InuYasha?” His silence must have concerned her because she started to lean forward, reaching out a hand.

“Don’t!” He jerked backwards, away from her touch, barely noticing the hurt that flashed across her face.

Oh, damn. If he touched her, even once more--just once--he’d crumble. He’d lose his reservations--no, he’d bury them; he’d pound them into her body until they were both too exhausted to move. Surrender to this mindless need eating away at his sanity and fuck her senseless.

Five years. It had been five years since he kissed a woman. He was far older than he looked, and no novice, that was for sure, but still…. He’d never reacted like that.

Never.

Not even with….

“InuYasha? What’s…wrong?”

She was still staring at him, wide eyes darkened to slate in the faint light of early morning, dismay and want trembling in her gaze. Hell, her whole body was trembling, and something about the way she sat, something about her posture and her expression, pulled at him. He was so close.

A low growl ripped from his throat, and he shook off the thought before it could go any further. “Just….” Damn, damn, damn! His voice--he sounded like a fucking animal.

His mouth twisted in a brief grimace, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably to cover himself. “Just forget it, ok? It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

For a moment, her only response was a few blinks. “A m-mistake?” The tension in her body grew palpable, turning her knuckles white as they tightened on the blanket that offered a laughable protection from his gaze. “But….”

He stared back at her helplessly. That wouldn’t work, and he knew it. No way in hell was he going to forget this. Nor did he know how to avoid it in the future. Her taste….her skin….

He wanted to fucking consume her.

Up until now, it had all been dancing and elusive--fleeting thoughts, refuted instincts, and unexplored urges. But passion acknowledged was a hell of a lot harder to ignore than passion concealed, and keeping away from her now would be…difficult. They’d just crossed a line they couldn’t uncross, and they both knew it.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Too damn bad it wasn’t going to happen.

Because no way in hell was he ever going through that again.

It might have been different if she was a different person. Maybe then he could have kept it neutral--a mutually pleasurable fling, void of anything but physical gratification. Maybe then he might have been able to satisfy the urge, to get her out of his system and be done with it.

“But why?”

Her plaintive question jerked him from his thoughts. He focused back on her and instantly regretted it, because all he wanted to do was rip off that damn yukata she had clutched so protectively to her breasts and test--with his lips, mouth, and tongue--if they really were as soft as he thought they were.

“Because….”

He already felt more for her than was healthy. He’d saved her life--which shouldn’t really make a difference, because he’d done that before, for others to whom he had no real attachment. But Kagome was different from all the others he’d saved. Where the others all just kind of blurred in his memory, she stood out sharply. She made everything just a little more interesting…more alive, maybe.

He wouldn’t be able to keep a relationship with her strictly physical.

It would be the same.

Panic laced through him, cutting through the lust swamping his senses. The struggle he’d been having with his own body ended, and he surged to his feet, uncaring whether she noticed the blatant affect she had on him or not. All he wanted to do was get away from her before he did something really stupid. “Because I’m your boss,” he bit out tersely, as if that explained everything. “You’re my employee. We work together.”

“But… What does that matter?” Her eyes, even in the dim light, were filled with confusion. “You…. You wanted to. I know you did. I did too. It--” Color flushed her cheeks, evident in the way her skin darkened. “It was nice.”

Nice?! He nearly snorted. “It was stupid.”

She started. He saw her whole body jump, and her head reared back a bit as if she’d been slapped. For a long moment, she sat stock-still, staring at him with disbelief and tiny shards of hurt that hung in her eyes and stung to look at. Silence became a thick wrap in the early darkness, muffled and suffocating as it awaited her response.

“I don’t understand. Why did you--”

“I told you. I made a mistake.”

“I heard you the first time you said that! Rrrgh!”

His eyes widened, then abruptly flattened into a scowl. Had the bitch just growled at him?

She shifted around restlessly for a moment, then her fist made a soft ‘whumping’ sound as it hit the blanket by her hip. “What is… What is wrong with you?!”

Uh-oh. Now she was glaring at him.

“You come into my room in the middle of the night--”

Technically morning, but it probably wasn’t the best time to tell her that.

“--For gods only knows what reason, and wake me up by kissing me--”

He cringed. Wait a sec--“You kissed me first!”

“I was asleep! For all I know I was kissing a…a…” She floundered. “A fish!”

He nearly choked on his own breath, sputtering in a moment of silent fury. “A fish!” Where the fuck had she pulled that from?! He wasn’t anything like a fucking fish! “Like hell were you kissing a fucking fish! You said my name!” She had. She’d murmured it into the air just before she’d pulled him on top of her.

That stopped her tirade for a second. Her cheeks went from a dull flush to a darker shade that was clearly visible even through the dim, and she shrank back for just a second. “I…. I did?”

“Keh! You--”

She shook her head, hair flying wildly. “It doesn’t matter! The point is you can’t just do something like that and then pretend it didn’t happen!”

“Like hell I can’t! I already told you to forget it, so--”

“Ooooh!”

He ducked just in time to avoid the pillow that came flying at his head through the darkness. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re--”

“You arrogant, selfish, frustrating….”

And then she was right there, standing in front of him in the dark. How he’d missed her scramble off her futon, he wasn’t sure. But there she was, less than an arm‘s length away, blanket gone, chest heaving, gray eyes fiery as she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You!” Poke. “Wanted….” Poke. “To kiss me.” Poke, poke. “Admit it!” Poke, poke, poke.

A growl escaped his throat. Damn…infuriating…persistent… Bitch.

He grabbed that damned annoying hand of hers and held it away from his chest, tugging her just a little closer in the process so he could lean down and glare at her properly. She didn’t so much as flinch at his invasion of her personal space, didn’t back down one iota. In fact, her chin lifted a little higher.

Admit it? Like hell he would.

“It…was…a…mistake.” He gritted out the words through clenched teeth. “Got it?!”

The delicate arches of her brows scrunched in a little more over her eyes, giving her forehead a funny little wrinkle as she glared back.

“I didn’t mean it. I was off guard and--”

Her chest was still heaving, and every time she inhaled he could feel her breasts brush the air just shy of his chest.

“And…”

He could feel the anger and frustration in his own gut, twisting and churning and knotting. He could feel the back of his teeth as they ground together. He could feel his ears twitching, alert and energized as they took in the sounds of harsh breathing. He could feel her hand in his, warm and small and tense and… warm.

“It won’t--”

They were practically nose-to-nose. How the hell had they gotten so close?

“--happen again, and….”

He almost feel her breath against his lips. He saw her eyes flicker with surprise, then soften. He felt her hand relax in his grip.

“And….”

And oh hell, oh hell, oh hell. If he didn’t get away from her now, he was going to do it again. He inhaled sharply and stepped back, dropping her hand as he turned his back to her and headed for the open door, his glare fixed on the hapless wood of the hallway. “Just forget it happened.”

He heard her gasp. “But--”

He grabbed the door and slid it shut with a loud thud behind him, cutting off words that he was sure he didn’t want to hear. Then he made his way quickly back to his own room, where he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep any time soon.

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A/N: Quill here, alive and well. Well, alive, anyway. My sincerest apologies to those who have been waiting on an update for this thing. I’ve had the worst time with this chapter --probably because it was the “first kiss” thing, and the OCD perfectionist in me kept telling me it wasn’t right. And I did so want it to be right, you know? I have such a hard time getting things right sometimes.

Anyway, after much scrapping and re-writing (and I do mean much), I have finally got something I find halfway acceptable. All and every feedback is much welcome, as are questions and concerns. Thanks to everyone who has been so patient in waiting and keeping interest. You mean so much to me.

Cheers and blessings and all of the above,

~Quill