InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sachi ❯ En Passant (sennichite, sokuzumi) ( Chapter 19 )

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

Chapter 19
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Kakkou Private Academy,
Just outside Hakone
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The rook slid against the wood as she moved it to take one of his pawns, deep on his side of the board. He had to suppress a wince, because the loss was more painful than a pawn should be—but then, his father had always claimed that pawns were more important pieces than people gave them credit for, that a game could be won or lost on the strength of one pawn alone. He'd proved it, too, by more than once winning a game with little else but pawns on the board.
Rin gave him a sly grin and propped her chin in her palm. “Check.”
Souta, watching from a lazy sprawl in the chair he'd wedged between the metal shelves lining the walls, shook his head and pronounced his judgment through a mouthful of melon bread. “She's got you now.”
They were in their “club room”: a tiny supply room (actually, little more than a janitor's closet) tucked in the corner of a forgotten hallway on the third floor. Between the shelves filled with everything from paper to improperly stored chemicals and the haphazardly stacked orange crates, they had almost no room for themselves. They'd utilized the crates to form a makeshift stand for their shogi board and took turns playing each other, learning and debating (and occasionally making up) rules as they went.
Souta, human food disposal system that he was, had somehow finagled a mini-fridge (a mini-fridge!) up here and kept the nooks and crannies of the room well-stocked with snacks of all kinds. Haku had the sneaking suspicion Souta might come more for the food than the strategy—he had soccer practice for much of the afternoon, but he always stopped in to watch, comment, and stuff his face with pre-or-post-practice carbs. Haku suspected Souta came up in between classes, too, to fill the gaps between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Haku was frankly amazed by all the snackage; he'd never seen anyone eat so much and yet stay so thin.
Rin was an entirely different matter from the teenaged boy who shared his room; she was no ordinary transfer student, and it had taken Haku all of a day to realize it. For one thing, she was surrounded by bodyguards. He wasn't at all sure she even knew about them, because they were blended so well into the scenery of the school: one of the janitorial staff, another among the gardeners who maintained the property—and at least one of their teachers was keeping a close eye on her as well. For another, those body-guards were all youkai. They all looked human enough, but Haku knew. If there was one thing he could recognize in his sleep, it was a youkai in disguise. He'd had to be particularly careful around her, because any suspicious activity when one of her protectors was watching would have them coming down pretty hard on him, and no matter how solid a background was, there were always holes.
Rin had a quick wit, a cheery disposition, and a trusting smile. He liked her, but she made him nervous, because she was obviously important to someone. And she was always talking about that guardian of hers in glowing, starry-eyed terms that made him squirm, though she never actually said who it was, and kept even her admiration in frustratingly general terms.
Part of the problem was Haku still wasn't entirely sure why he was here. He'd been given specific instructions to blend in, act normal, and make friends, starting specifically with his roommate—and told nothing else. Given how protected Rin was, he was sure she was at least part of the reason he'd been sent here. And probably the reason he'd been placed with Souta. But now, nearly a month later, he still didn't know what, exactly, he was doing at an elite boarding school. All he knew for sure was that someday, probably soon, he would have to follow orders that might harm his new friends. And he would, without question or compunction, just like he had always done.
A harsh, burning fist clenched in his chest. He allowed himself a tiny grimace and rubbed at it with the heel of his palm, wondering why the strange pain had been bothering him so much lately.
“Heartburn again?” This spoken around another overly full mouth of bread.
Like Rin, Souta had been surprising him from the first, but in a more subtle way. Souta's eyes had to be at least as big as his stomach, because he seemed to see everything around him—and on top of it, he had a curious knack for seeing to the truth of things without even really trying. (Haku had asked him about it once and Souta had just shrugged and told him some nonsense about how a good team player knew where his teammates were on the field at all times.) Souta’s keenness had forced Haku to wrap himself up in his cover and wear it like a second skin.
The problem was it meant he'd had to open himself up to both of them far more than he ever had in the past, just to keep them from being suspicious. He was at risk of losing his objectivity—and his objectivity was essential to him. Without his detachment, he might not be able to do what he needed to do.
And it was absolutely essential he follow orders.
Rin frowned at him. “Maybe we should go see the doctor? You've been getting that a lot recently. I'm pretty sure it can mean something else is wrong if you get it too often.”
Souta twisted his long body and stretched out a hand, covering half their tiny room in one smooth, efficient reach. A flicker of movement in his peripherals was all the warning Haku got. His own hand shot out just in time to pluck the water bottle Souta had hurled at him from the air in front of his face.
“Nice catch!”
Haku glanced askance at the bottle in his hand. “Water doesn't really help much,” he said, but obligingly took a sip anyway.
Souta nodded, as if he knew that already. “You should eat less spicy food.”
This time the askance was aimed at Souta. “I don't eat spicy food.”
“Oh.” Souta looked confounded for a moment as he ripped another huge bite with his teeth. Then he shrugged and waved the last bit of his snack. “Eat more bread?”
Rin giggled. “Why does everything come down to food for you?”
Souta looked indignant and he and Rin exchanged friendly insults while Haku ducked his head, hiding the miniscule curve of his mouth behind a pawn shift that would have made his father proud. He let a tiny grin turn his lips. “Better move that rook.” The move pulled both of his friends (targets?) attention back to the game.
“Still,” Rin mumbled, looking over the board. “Maybe we should go to the infirmary and—oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me! We'll be having our winter break soon!”
Souta and Haku exchanged a long-suffering look, knowing that whatever the infirmary had to do with winter break would forever remain a mystery.
Souta swallowed. “So?”
“So, I was thinking we could all go together this year. They'll be sending a car for me, and it would be nice to have company on the ride home. It’s a good idea, since we're all going in the same direction anyway, right?” She clapped her hands in excitement. “You could even come stay with me for a night before you go home! That way I could introduce you to my guardian.” She looked between the two of them. “What do you think?”
Her eyes were doing that glow-twinkling thing again. Haku looked down with a shrug, pretending to study the game. He could feel Souta's eyes on him, and it was making him uncomfortable.
A crinkling sound came from Souta's direction as he tucked the cellophane wrap from his bread into his pocket, then reached up and felt around for the extra package of bread he had on a shelf above him. “Well, I'm game,” he said, peeling it open. “But I also have a reason to go back to Tokyo. What about Haku, who doesn't have a place to go?”
He kept his gaze down, because Souta was wrong: he did have a place to go. It just wasn't anyplace he could let them know about. Plus, he had no orders about a situation like this. Was going on a trip for winter vacation part of blending in, being normal? Could he even afford to let them out of his sight?
“Then he can stay with me the whole break!” The delight on her face suggested Rin considered her solution brilliant. Both Souta and Rin turned to him, their gazes both assessing and expectant, but in different ways.
No, no. He didn't have enough information. He would have to report in. He shrugged, trying for simple dismissal. “I don't know.”
“What?” Rin seemed to deflate a bit, her twinkle dimming. “Why? You said your sister is abroad, so you don't have anywhere else to go, right?
That searing fist took a stanglehold on his lungs again, and old wounds deep in his body twinged painfully; the night he'd inadvertently told Souta about Ane-ue had been his first truly big blunder. It was a terrible, burning reminder that he wasn't here to play games or go on vacations. “I said I don't know.” He stood, the water bottle crackling in his grip. “I'm done playing. You win.”
Rin's eyes rounded. “What? But....”
Souta groaned, then muttered sideways at Rin. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
Haku jerked open the door, but Rin was up and right on his heels. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything! It's just...I know you miss her, but isn't it better to go on a nice vacation with your friends instead of sitting around being lonely? You'll think about it, won't you? Please?”
Haku whirled in the doorway and found himself uncomfortably close to Rin. She had her hands clasped together, her dark eyes wide and obviously devastated that she might have hurt him. He checked himself, blinked, then took a step back. He didn’t glance behind Rin, but he could almost hear Souta's smirk, even if his roommate kept his big mouth shut. For once.
Haku frowned, glanced at the game, then back at Rin, trying to shake the sudden guilt dragging from his shoulders like a leaden cape. “I didn't say I couldn't,” he mumbled, his mouth suddenly stupid, awkward, thick. “I just said I didn't know.”
“Really? So you'll think about it?”
That the invisible weight actually put more tension in his shoulders at her relief was a warning—a big, flashing red one. He was only supposed to be pretending to care. He brushed his bangs off his forehead and gave a short nod. Rin smiled, huge and pretty and completely innocent.
In the background, Souta snorted. “Yep. Rin's win, all right.”
Barely suppressing a wince, Haku turned away from both of them. “I'm going.” He just had to get away from the two of them and regroup, was all. It was just a few minor slips that he'd let go without a proper, disciplined response. He could fix himself. He had to.
Rin followed him. “You'll really like my house, you know. My guardian is rich. We have our own garden. And a pool!”
Souta drifted a few steps behind them, munching on his bread and listening to Rin plead her case all the way to the bottom of the stairs, where she parted ways with the boys.
“She's just trying to make you feel better. She's afraid you'll be lonely if you stay here all by yourself,” Souta said as they crossed the lawn, heading for the boys' dormitories. “You should have seen her—she almost cried when she heard you haven't seen your only relative in years because she’s working hard to give you an education.” He spotted a trash can, and stopped to empty his various pockets of the wraps and crumbs from a day's worth of snacking.
“Yeah, I know.” Haku barely stopped his mouth from twisting. If something as common as his cover story made her cry, Rin would probably make herself sick over what had really happened.
He blinked, shook his head. So now he was feeling sorry for her feeling sorry for him? This was dumb, an idiotic, amateurish way for him to be acting. He desperately needed a reset on his perspective. He stuck his hands in his jacket and kept walking.
“We're your friends,” Souta called, jogging up behind him, the soccer star in him having no problems keeping up. “You should depend on us a little more. You might be surprised at what we can understand about you.”
Haku stopped, crinkled his brows, and looked around the grounds. Kids milled around, hanging with friends, coming or going from club activities, or just enjoying what little warmth the late sunshine provided. “There's still a couple hours before dinner,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm taking a walk. I'll see you later.”
“But—” Souta hesitated, eyed him, then nodded. “Yeah. Later.”
He almost didn't catch Souta's parting mumble. “You're not the only one who worries about his sister, you know.”
Haku kept going. He didn’t stumble, didn’t pause, didn’t give any hint that he’d heard at all. Because he didn’t want to know. He didn’t care.
Really. He didn’t.

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“You needn’t look so upset, Kagome. It’s only a minor sprain.” Kaede’s old fingers worked with surprising nimbleness, showing her the proper way to twist and tuck the cloth around her wrist. “The bandage is a temporary support. It won’t even interfere with your work. Simply remove it before washing or bathing.”
They sat in Kaede’s room within the Sachi, which she and Shippou now occupied. During breakfast, Kaede had announced to InuYasha and Miroku that she was tired of trudging through the snow and would be moving into the Sachi for the duration of the cold. They’d spent the first couple hours of the morning packing up their essentials from the cabin out back and moving everything inside—something else Kagome had missed while sleeping in that morning. Kaede assured her it hadn’t taken long with InuYasha doing all the heavy lifting.
Their room was located close to the kitchen, of course, and was small but serviceable, with two futons laid out on one side of the room, and a small work station on the other: a table laden with bottles of powder or liquid and reams of dried-or-drying herbs, baskets on the floor with various plants, and some shelves with more of the same.
Kagome shifted her knees on the futon, both to get the blood circulating in her numbing legs, and to relieve some of the sensual discomfort not yet faded from their outrageous near-miss in the hallway. The adrenaline was proving hard to shake; it still hummed beneath her skin, a remnant crackle of energy. She gave a sharp huff and rotated her wrist. “I told him it was fine. Now he’ll think he was right.”
“Him?” Surprise, then amusement sparked in Kaede’s black eyes. “InuYasha? You told him correctly. Your injury is very minor and will be forgotten in days.”
Kagome made a face and huffed again. “He won’t see it that way.” It would be another excuse to resist the explosive longing that flared up between them every time they got near each other. Another pseudo-reason allowing him to avoid all the complications sating it would bring. No, he’d rather suffer—a metaphorical shrine to the guilt he’d been heaping on himself for years, and never mind she was suffering right along with him. He’d left her with damp panties, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t he realize damp panties never dried while you were wearing them? The inconsiderate jerk! Frustration surged through her again, not helping at all to soothe the deep, clenching ache in the pit of her stomach. “He thinks it’s his fault.”
Kaede’s expression would have been bland, had it not been for the curling at the corners of her mouth. “Was it?”
“It was just as much my fault! Neither of us was paying attention, and I tripped! And anyway, it’s almost nothing!”
Kaede chuckled. “What were the two of you doing, I wonder, that you were both so distracted?”
Kagome’s indignation vanished beneath a wave of warmth, sparking in her chest and flaming upward to color her face red. Some of it was mortification, some of it vivid recollection that made the excited throb between her legs throb a little harder, the dull thud of her heart a little speedier. Well, wasn’t that just fantastic? She was supposed to be calming down, not getting more worked up. Squirming again, she refused to meet Kaede’s eyes and focused on rotating her wrist.
Kaede’s chuckle turned into a deep belly laugh. It was an oddly comforting sound. She reached out and folded Kagome’s bandaged hand between her own gnarled, wrinkled ones. “It is very heartening to me to see the two of you behaving in such a manner. InuYasha has spent too many years caught in his tragedy with my sister; and you, who cannot dwell on a past you can’t remember, are the only one who has managed to pull him out of his. It is good for the both of you to move on together.”
Kagome shifted again, squaring herself to Kaede’s comfortable cross-legged seat. “But he’s not moving on!” she burst out. “He thinks if he does, he’ll risk letting me—” The words died abruptly in her throat, as if someone had closed a fist around them and snuffed them out of existence. Her eyes widened, and all the blood that had just gone rushing into her head drained out again, leaving her dizzy. The question, when it came out, was faint, mostly air. “Sister?”
Kaede’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Did you not know? I thought, after this morning, that InuYasha had already told you all.”
“He told me about him and Miroku, and what happened with Kikyou, and why they have to stay hidden in Sachi, but…” Kagome brushed her fingertips over the bridge of her cheekbone, sliding them along her eye and then, slowly, down her cheek. “Kikyou was your sister?” She breathed. “As in, biologically?”
How? If she had to guess, Kagome would say Kaede had easily forty years on Kikyou. A remarriage for their father? A late-in-life baby, maybe? And regardless, what was Kaede doing in hiding with the man accused of murdering her baby sister? And—for the sake of all the spirits roaming the earth—what had she been thinking all this time, staring at a face that looked so much like her dead sister’s?
The older woman kept quiet, watching emotions play over Kagome’s features as she processed this latest tidbit. Then, unexpectedly, Kaede smiled. Leaning forward, she reached out and placed a leathery palm against Kagome’s cheek. “Yes, the similarities are remarkable. It is my suspicion we share some distant ancestor somewhere. But InuYasha has already told you, has he not? You and my sister were very different people. It does not pain me to see you, because I do not see her when I look at you.”
“Kaede…”
Kaede patted her hand again and sighed, a heavy, dusty sound. “For many difficult reasons, Kikyou and I chose to walk very different paths in life. As a result, we were not able to be close for many years. But after she became involved with InuYasha, he came to find me. He began to seek me out regularly, became a presence in my life; it was he who brought us together again for a short time before her death. Though it was difficult, it was also a gift. After she died, he brought me with him to protect me from the danger of her enemies finding out she had a blood sibling. Because he loved my sister, I followed him.” Another smile, another pat. “The Sachi has been good to us. It is a place of healing. For you as well, I think.”
So Kaede was a fugitive, too. Only she was a fugitive of an entirely different sort than InuYasha and Miroku. Miroku’s words from earlier drifted through her brain.
Then, of course, as I'm quite certain has happened by now, there's the realization that the people you have been staying with all this time are all fugitives of some sort—though to be fair, we're not all criminal fugitives.
Kagome blinked. Scrunched her brows. Glanced around the room to make sure they were alone. “But what about Shippou?”
“Shippou?”
“Miroku said…everyone here is a fugitive. Does that apply to Shippou as well?”
“Ah.” Kaede’s face cleared. “I suppose Shippou’s tragedy isn’t something that would have come up in your previous discussion with InuYasha.”
Kagome’s heart sank. “His tragedy?”
“Yes.” Kaede paused, her wrinkles falling into grave lines as she studied Kagome for a long moment. “Perhaps today is simply the day for revelations? In any case, it would be good if you knew.” Another pause. “Shippou was born in a hidden youkai village.”
“A…what?”
Kaede nodded. “Many youkai natures are not well suited for human cities, and some form their own communities outside the big human population centers, screening them behind youkai power so they are not noticed or bothered by human activity. All such communities are under the care and protection of a daiyoukai lord. Shippou’s village was a large youkai community just outside of Tokyo, and under the care of InuYasha’s brother, Sesshoumaru-sama, and their father before him, for many generations.
“Shippou’s father was a leader in their village, a brilliant scientist whose dearest dream was to foster and grow a community of thinkers and creators where youkai were free to pursue ideas and experiments many youkai believed only belonged in the realm of human curiosity. The Taisho-sama supported him, and I believe their efforts led to some interesting successes in terms of invention and wealth for quite some time before Shippou’s birth.”
Kagome rubbed at her wrist, trying to ignore the prickling of her skin, the way her stomach tensed and soured. “What happened?”
“A massacre. The village was attacked. They called out for help, but too late. By the time Sesshoumaru’s people arrived, the attackers were gone and the village destroyed, everyone brutally slaughtered. Shippou was the only survivor.”
“The entire village?” Kagome nearly cried out. “That’s… Why? Why would someone attack a peaceful village like that?”
“The culprits were a pair of well-known assassins, brothers who are known for their savagery and lack of restraint. InuYasha and Miroku believe it was Naraku who pointed them at the village and provided them a way past its defenses, a move to undermine Sesshoumaru’s position within his own territory.” The lines in Kaede’s face deepened. “But in order to officially accuse Naraku of involvement, Sesshoumaru requires the Raichu brothers to provide him with proof. Currently, they are in hiding, because for the first time in their careers they left a witness behind to identify them.”
“Shippou,” Kagome breathed, the words heavy in her throat. “Oh, no. Did he see everything?”
Kaede’s lips pulled downward, and her aged voice reflected Kagome’s sorrow back at her. “He doesn’t speak of it much. For quite some time after our arrival here, Shippou was so quiet. The only times we heard any life out of him were his bickerings with InuYasha over shogi. But from what little I’ve heard him mention in the years since…I suspect he had to watch his beloved father die.”
Kagome pressed her fingers to her lips, and for a moment, she and Kaede sat in mutual silence, thick with a resigned sort of horror, the kind that knew exactly how helpless it was when life decided to get ugly.
Kagome’s fingers fell away from her mouth, dropping like weights to twist together atop her lap. “That’s why Shippou is here with all of you,” she said eventually, softly. “You’re the ones who can protect him best from the ones who murdered his family.”
Kaede surprised her by smiling again. “Sesshoumaru is much wiser than InuYasha gives him credit for. He had many options to protect his precious witness. But he chose to send him into hiding with a group of souls who had all lost their reasons for moving forward in life.” She paused, lifted a hand to brush a gnarled finger over the scar disappearing into Kagome’s hairline. “All of us, together, pushing each other forward when we wouldn’t go alone. Fate is a curious thing, is it not?”
“Fate.” Kagome murmured, and as Kaede’s hand drifted away from hers, she lifted her own fingers to feel along the pink scar. The corners of her mouth twisted into a moue. “Even if my being here is Fate, it sure seems to be taking its time with moving everything along.”
Kaede chuckled again and rearranged the heavy wrap around her shoulders. “Keep in mind it’s best not to rely on Fate for much of anything in life. Fate is mostly a subtle force, one of many that affect all lives. It resides in the background of existence, and is only ever clear in hindsight. Even if you could see it ahead, its purpose is not to force you to make the right decisions, only to maneuver things so you have the opportunities to do so. The wise simply accept Fate for what it is, knowing it will make its moves around their choices regardless, much like the ocean waves crashing against the beach. Only the stupid fight the ebb and flow of the tide.” Satisfied with her covering, Kaede shifted to rise from her futon.
Kagome scrambled to her feet and curled a supportive hand around her arm. “And if someone you know is being stupid?”
Kaede chuckled as Kagome hefted. She waited until she was steady on her feet before lifting a sterling brow, the twinkle in her black eyes almost naughty. “If someone is fighting against the tide? Push him into the water. Get him all wet, and the fight becomes pointless, doesn’t it?”
Kagome goggled at her. “Kaede!”
This time Kaede’s laugh smothered through her nose, half-snort, half-amusement. “InuYasha has always been stubborn, but he’s not stupid. He knows the risks of the situation in front of you quite well. It’s possible, however, that he’s forgotten the rewards. Were I in your situation, I would remind him.” She tugged, pulling Kagome along toward the door with verve that surprised Kagome. “Come. We have little time to do much laundry today.”



InuYasha spent the afternoon prowling the Sachi below-stairs—his ears pricked and attuned to the thuds and murmurs drifting serenely from above: Kaede and Kagome, chatting about who the hell knew what, readying for the incoming guests with Shippou running errands and Kagome making the occasional downward excursion with an armload of laundry. He made sure to be in the opposite end of the Sachi each time he heard her slippers shuffling on the stairs.
The steady background sounds were sharper than normal today. For some reason, he couldn’t help but catch every one of them (especially the younger, feminine ones); his ears kept up a futile twitching and flicking, trying to shake them off. Adrenaline lingered in his blood, a carry-over from the earlier hallway encounter; the slow, persistently electric crackle of it kept a growl stuck deep at the back of his throat and his body just shy of a full-blown hard-on. He started slamming windows and doors as he checked and double-checked wiring and weather stripping, lighting fixtures and firewood—every damn thing a chore he’d done yesterday, but he repeated the routines anyway, desperate for anything resembling a distraction.
Same damn song, different damn verse. She was going to drive him insane.
And adding insult to insanity, Miroku only stayed disappeared for about an hour before deeming it safe enough to return to the front desk and deal with whatever paperwork and accounting shit he generally dealt with. InuYasha felt the keen violet eyes studying his back every time he went pacing past a doorway with a visible line of sight to Miroku’s work station; the bastard’s amusement was a palpable smirk hovering in the air, following him wherever he went. It set his teeth (the only things that weren’t already) on edge.
Shit, shit, shit.
The previous night was supposed to have solved this problem. She was supposed to have understood, and agreed, about the complications sex would bring; with all the questions and mysteries in the air cleared, they were supposed to have gone back to being on friendly ground, a place where they could avoid the damn complications. It was supposed to have settled down all that blood-boiling lust into an easily-ignorable simmer, destined for the cold strangulation of inattention. It wasn’t supposed to have made it worse.
But it turned out all those damned mysteries were the things standing strongest between them—an invisible barrier of tight-knit secrets, keeping them apart. With that buffer unraveled, it was as if their bodies had decided whatever mental objections remained were irrelevant. They’d shot right through tentative peace and straight into raging fuck-me. She’d given him the go-ahead, and he’d given in with the gusto of Miroku to a pretty hooker offering a freebie. For fuck’s sake, he’d almost stripped her down right there in the middle of the hallway. And the only thing stopping them had been a stupid brat in the wrong place at the wrong time. The abrupt deprivation of a sex-high was still tormenting him, an almost-itch lurking beneath his skin, constantly poking and prodding him from the inside out.
And it hadn’t taken anything. Just a little shouting, a little contact. And damn it to hell if they weren’t good at shouting at each other.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? It was a damn powder keg between the two of them, and anything could set them off. The odds of the kid being around to stop them next time weren’t great—although, with the way Shippou clung to Kagome, not terrible, either. (And he would consider that a good thing if only it weren’t so fucking irritating.)
Was that what he was reduced to now? Depending on the annoyance of a brat to keep his hands off a woman? The thought was enough to have his teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached. Even after five damn years of basic celibacy, his control shouldn’t be so shot. It was sex, not food in front of a starving man.
Swearing, InuYasha smacked a random wall and stormed through a doorway, not even paying attention to where he was going, just knowing he had to keep active, keep himself occupied.
“You want me to help with the move?”
InuYasha checked in the foyer, halfway between the first and second public gathering rooms, on his way (probably) to check the condition of the big fireplace. “Move?”
“Kagome’s. From her room to yours. Or do you really think I don’t know about what happened between the two of you this morning?” Miroku kept his head down as he studied the computer screen—hadn’t even paused in his casual tapping before throwing out his loaded, balls-of-brass query.
“You were spying?!”
“No. Just guessing.” Still, Miroku didn’t look up from his work, but there was a tiny twitch at one corner of his mouth, a genteel gloat in his voice. “Though I’m not surprised I was right.”
InuYasha’s hands curled into fists, his lip into a snarl. “You fucking bastard!”
“Yes, but only because you make it so easy.” Miroku shrugged, then looked up. “We won’t have much time tonight with the new arrivals, but we can probably have it done by the end of tomorrow—it’s not as if she has much to move anyway. We should probably do it soon. Just think about how much draftier that back room is getting by the day. She’ll catch her death.”
“Her room is fine!”
“If you say so.” A pause, then a concerned click of his tongue. “I really wish you’d just get it over with, though. The way you’re stomping around you’re going to break something vital to our lives, and the coldest part of the year is still coming.”
“I’m not getting anything over with,” InuYasha gritted out through clenched teeth. “She’s. Not. Moving.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”
He almost went for him. Would have, if the front door hadn’t opened (sans an alerting knock or bell) to a stupidly affectionate couple in their forties, perfect hair just starting to streak with silver, clothes of the genteel business variety casual, and with the male of the two struggling under the weight of about four bags too many. The Uzuma pair, as Miroku explained with his most professional smile, were late-in-life newlyweds who had chosen the Sachi as the last leg of their extended honeymoon.
And after a few moments, InuYasha nearly groaned, then reconsidered going for Miroku, despite the audience.
Most of the couples who came to Sachi were on a romantic excursion of some kind or another. Given the nature of the legend surrounding the place, most of them left smelling at least faintly of sex. InuYasha was used to it, even if it was slightly annoying to have his awareness about the topic pricked on a regular basis. He was also really damn good at ignoring it, particularly since it wasn’t any of his business.  
This couple was something else. The Uzuma pair were deeply in love—or at the very least, deeply in lust. They didn’t just like sex; they loved it. It clung to them, hovered in the air around them, broadcast itself in the way they couldn’t quite keep their hands away from each other, even while they were signing in and juggling way too much luggage.
Worse, though, was the intent of sex that practically oozed from their pores. Intent was like a subcategory of scent, an underlying sensory input usually only present in relation to the deep scents: sex, love and hate, violence, death, power in all its forms. It was hella subtle, but it had the ability to influence those youkai with the noses to detect it. Humans didn’t know they threw it out, and youkai didn’t care. The Uzumas were throwing intent-filled pheromones like confetti at a damn parade. It probably wouldn’t bother Shippou (mostly because he hadn’t hit puberty yet) but it sure as hell would bother him.
And the Uzumas would be staying for the next three days. If they kept it up, he was gonna have to avoid the hell out them. The truly sensitive noses, like the Inu had, could get drunk and stupid on that shit. Overexposure messed with the brain.
As if his brain wasn’t already being messed with.
As he picked up a few of the extra bags the male Uzuma seemed to be having trouble with, InuYasha turned a baleful eye to Miroku and wondered if there was any way in hell he could have planned this. Miroku ignored him spectacularly, though the female Uzuma seemed a bit…wary of his glower. She edged a bit behind her husband, her hand clutching at the front pocket of her small satchel, though her eyes were wide as she stared at him, and kept flicking up with interest to his ears. InuYasha nearly snorted. And then…
…Behind him, making those ears twitch for the millionth time that day, the sound of soft slippers in a nimble tumble down the stairs. His hands tightened around the three straps of the very nice, overly-stuffed leather duffel and two carry-alls hanging off one shoulder. He turned, the move involuntary.
Kagome stood at the bottom of the stairs, a few feet away from the group gathered around the desk. She’d tamed her earlier wild bed-head by pulling it back into a loose braid, but other than that, she was the same as she’d been last night in the firelight. She still wore the same soft blue sweater. It still hugged her curves, still skimmed the round edges of her hips, still exposed the delicate rise of her collar-bones beneath that damn necklace. And she was staring at him, eyes a dark, swirling storm-cloud, hesitant and probing.
Memories socked him in the gut, drew it tight, knotted it with anticipation. He saw them there, in her eyes, like she probably saw them in his: kisses and tastes and smells. The feel of her hands on his body, fingertips chilled, stroking at his sides, his stomach, with a sense of curiosity and pleasure. The way the scratch of her nails had been maddeningly dulled by the thin layer of his undershirt. The uncensored heat of her nape against his palm. Her mouth, soft and searing and wet all at the same time. The light, soft, feminine musk of her surrounding him, the flavor of it a light touch along his throat, a teasing hint against his tongue. They hadn’t got even as far physically as they had the last time in the kitchen, but all the mental barriers were just…gone. He could see it in her: faint flush, twisted fingers, rapid breathing, that damn pulse in her neck; he could feel it in him: muscles tense enough to snap, blood thick and pounding, hands that longed to slide over her bare skin so bad they itched.
She’s standing three fucking feet away. All you have to do is drop the damn bags and pull her through the nearest doorway. Miroku will smile and wave, and not even complain about the extra work.
He nearly did it; the temptation was almost overwhelming. His feet had shuffled around, his body tensed on the verge of that first step before he caught himself. He had to force his eyes closed to cut off the visual input, had to draw in a deep breath and will his fingers to uncurl from the straps before his claws shredded the Uzumas’ fine leather. Muscles screaming with fury at being forced in a direction they didn’t want to go, he turned back to the front desk.
And found the Uzumas staring at them, wide-eyed and quiet. Miroku was grinning like an idiot, not saying a word. The silence was thick and hesitant, and the Sachi’s newest guests exchanged a meaningful glance. InuYasha contemplated just kicking the bastards and their damn intentions out, but settled for a furious scowl instead. At his expression, the Uzumas seemed taken aback, and both edged their way a little closer to the very unconcerned human behind the desk.
After a moment, Miroku cleared his throat, and called Kagome over, introducing her to the Uzumas and explaining her role in the Sachi’s staff. Of course, “calling her over” meant she came forward approximately three feet while they went through the social pleasantries and Miroku explained the rules. Instead of a few feet away, now she stood right next to him, close enough that he couldn’t ignore the drift and curl of her scent, close enough for him to pick up the fine details of lingering sexual arousal in her, the readiness of her body even now, so many hours away from the last time. The last time, when they’d gone right up to the edge and maddeningly pulled back.
His hands still fucking itched.
InuYasha shifted on his feet and hefted the bags, trying to hide the fact that he wasn’t just shy of a full-blown hard-on anymore, tamping down as hard as he could on the aggressiveness rising inside of him, spurred on by all that intent mixing in with the scent of the female right beside him. It was making his head just a little bit cloudy and he was for damn sure ready to be away from both Kagome and the Sachi’s newest guests. His words barked out, growly and snappish. “So? Where they goin’? I’ll take their stuff.”
Kagome’s smile was strained but genuine as she reached out to the new Mrs. Uzuma. “The Orchid Room, right? I’ll help.” The loose sleeve of her sweater slid back a bit, exposing her wrist.
His free hand was out before he thought better of it, before he thought at all, closing over her hand, stopping her from taking the smaller carrying bag the older woman was shrugging off her shoulder. InuYasha barely noticed Mrs. Uzuma’s look of surprise, or the second quiet fall around them as he gently turned it palm-up, curling his forearm around hers. He skimmed the claw of his thumb over the soft elastic cloth looping between her thumb and finger and hugging her slender wrist.
The hand she’d fallen on earlier, when he’d yanked her around in his distraction. He remembered it vividly—first the fear and mild panic she’d be hurt, then the sick, sinking feeling when he’d realized she had been, and he’d been at fault.
He cursed, under his breath. His eyes narrowed, drifted up to meet hers. “This is…”
She stared back, gaze clear and defiant. “I was careless,” she murmured up at him. “It’s barely a sprain. Not worth noticing.”
I was careless.
She was trying to take it away from him. Like she’d done earlier in the hallway, like she’d done the night before. She couldn’t, but the fact that she kept trying lodged a deep, syrupy warmth right in the center of his chest. As he stared at her, he tried to swallow it down, but like her, it stubbornly refused to move.
The back of her hand sat in his palm, his long fingers curling just enough to hint at meshing with hers. Because of the bandage, only a small bit of her skin touched his; her knuckles, cradled in the deepest part of his hand. He couldn’t help it: his grip shifted, his index finger sweeping a long, slow stroke along the side of hers, his rough callouses scraping gently over her much softer skin. Such a tiny caress, but the electricity of it rippled between them, rolling excitement and longing through his gut, kicking at his heart-rate with a hard thump.
Kagome’s eyes widened, just a fraction, the gray in her eyes going darker and smokey with sensual awareness. Her lips parted, just a fraction, and his ears twitched—again!—at the nearly inaudible rush of breath that passed between them. Lips that were soft and just a little damp. The last time he’d seen them, they’d been darker and swollen from the pressure of his mouth on hers. He wanted to see them that way again. Right now. All it would take was his hand on her neck, a yank to get her body flush against him—
The Uzuma female shifted toward her husband, dividing his attention. He turned his head slightly, just enough to put the older woman in his sight as she hooked her arm through her husband’s and leaned into his side, face alight with excitement and adoration. Her voice was an annoying stage whisper. “Darling, you were right about the legend here. Just look at them! You picked the perfect place for our last stop!”
InuYasha’s teeth snapped together with an audible clack, and he dropped Kagome’s hand and took a small step back, away from her, seeking clear breathing space. Kagome cradled her hand against her chest, breasts moving a little more heavily than normal beneath that soft, clingy blue sweater, and kept her dark gaze on him, eyes reproachful—as if he’d done something wrong.
Wrong? Wrong?! What the hell did she expect them to be doing anyway, right there in front of a pair of strangers? What the hell had they almost done? Would she really have been okay with him practically mauling her in front of those strangers?
Strangers who were subtly clouding the fuck out of his judgment with their damned horny presence. Oblivious human idiots. He was for sure going to be avoiding the hell out of them. Hell, he might be avoiding the hell out of everyone until he regained some of the sense he seemed to have lost sometime during the night.
“Tch!” Ignoring Kagome, InuYasha reached out and snatched the bag off Mrs. Uzuma’s shoulder, then held out his hand to Mr. Uzuma for the rest of his bags. “You can’t carry anything with that wrist,” he gritted out, his stomach roiling with the clash of hot, rigid lust and chill, sour shame. “So don’t bother. Show them around. I’ll put all their shit in their room.”
He could feel her blinking at him in disbelief as he slung the remaining bags over his other shoulder, the creaking of all the fine leather filling in the otherwise loaded silence. Then he grabbed the handle of the huge rolling case on the floor, turned away from the whole ridiculous room, and stalked out the nearest doorway before any of the rest of them could object.
A hallway and a half later, he passed a new wooden sign:
Give in to the inevitable. You’ll feel better.
…With a smiley face.
He stopped. Glared at it, and then at the walls around him. “She’s. Not. Moving.”

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

The front room was quiet in the wake of InuYasha’s loud, huffing exit. Kagome stared after him, trembling way down deep, stunned at how intense the whole exchange had been. All she’d done was come down to greet the new guests and help them settle in. InuYasha didn’t usually help with guest arrivals, so she hadn’t expected him to be standing there next to the desk, holding several of the Uzumas’ many bags and looking decidedly harassed.
She really hadn’t expected him to turn and look at her with a gaze so hot it froze her to the bottom of the stairs while naked memories played between them like a living movie, bringing back the exquisite, achy feeling she’d only just managed to get under control. She hadn’t meant for him to see her wrapped wrist, hadn’t expected him to touch her even if he had, and hadn’t dreamed the touch would be like that.
Crackling and seductively intimate. It had felt as if he’d been touching more than her hand; stroking more than her finger. Her heart was still thudding and she could barely breathe. Her stomach remained in thrilled knots, waiting for him to come back and do it again.
Mrs. Uzuma gave a little squeal, startling everyone. Kagome turned wide eyes to the woman who was easily in her forties, shocked to find she’d forgotten about the strangers standing in the room with them. Mrs. Uzuma was lovely in an elegant, mature way, with designer clothes, black hair in a sophisticated twist, and tiny, fine lines adding character to her dark brown eyes. So it seemed more than a bit out of place when the older woman grabbed Kagome’s hand with both of hers and squeezed, her eyes sparkling like a teenager’s. “Oh! It must be so exciting to live in a place as romantic as the Sachi. You and your husband seem very close.”
Kagome blinked at her, and glanced at Mr. Uzuma, who was smiling down at his wife with abject affection, then back to Mrs. Uzuma. “Husband…?”
Mrs. Uzuma nodded, her smile warm and knowing. “He was so concerned about such a small injury he carried all that by himself.” Her smile widened, took on a playful cant. “He seems very protective. I suppose you…enjoy each other’s company very much, yes?” She leaned forward a bit, her voice dropping into a whisper. “We understand, of course. We’re newlywed ourselves.”
It took Kagome a heartbeat to realize what Mrs. Uzuma was saying. Another heartbeat to realize they’d noticed the interplay between InuYasha and herself. And another heartbeat more for the blood to rush into her mortified face. “Oh! I…no, it’s just, we’re not…”
She darted desperate eyes to Miroku, who was leaning against the high counter of the desk, a fist doing a poor job of hiding a smile he was trying to suppress, choking noises coming from his throat as his shoulders shook. At her look, he started coughing loudly, the fist moving to pound at his chest as he spent several moments making a show of clearing his throat. By the time he’d composed himself, he was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. The Uzumas were both looking at him with concern, but he waved a dismissive hand in the air, his grin almost painfully wide. Laughter made his violet eyes glow, bubbled beneath his words. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken them, Uzuma-san. InuYasha and Kagome are not married.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Uzuma turned doubtful eyes back to Kagome. “Really, Housekeeper-san? But just now, between you…”
Mr. Uzuma chuckled and patted his wife’s arm, completely unperturbed. “I think maybe youkai do things differently, dear.”
“Ah! I see! Well, I don’t suppose it matters what they call it.” Mrs. Uzuma dropped Kagome’s hand and snuggled back up against her husband’s arm, pressing her whole body against him and sliding her hand to his chest. “Regardless, I’m very excited about our stay here. I’m sure the Sachi will bless us just as much as it has its residents, won’t it, darling?”
Utterly bemused by the last few minutes of her life, Kagome just stared at them, cheeks hot.
Miroku’s composure broke for a moment, and more strangled noises came from his throat. He coughed once more, then drew a deep breath. “It’s not just a blessing, you know. They say the Sachi binds true lovers to each other, so that nothing can ever separate them.” He paused dramatically, then leaned in closer over the desk counter. “I’m certain two such obviously true lovers such as yourselves will enjoy your stay here very much.”
“If our check-in was any indication of our stay, I’m certain we will,” Mr. Uzuma smiled and covered his wife’s hand with his own.
This time Miroku didn’t bother to hide his chuckle. But after another glance at Kagome’s face, he sighed. “Ah, it seems Housekeeper-san has some tasks to complete upstairs for the time being, however. So if you’ll allow me, I’ll be showing you around Sachi and informing you of all the options you have while staying with us.”
Mrs. Uzuma took a moment from her mooning stare at her husband to blink at Miroku. “Options?”
Miroku’s smile widened. Just a bit.




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

Several hours later, still a little embarrassed and a lot frustrated, Kagome was on the last load of laundry Kaede had designated for the day.
Arms full, she was maneuvering through the partially open shoji and into the laundry room when her sweater caught on something. A sharp snap lashed against her back. She yelped, and the huge, messy bundle of sheets and towels nearly tumbled out of her arms. She managed to keep them together, but stumbled a bit before righting herself. Frowning, she turned in a circle, trying to figure out what had happened. It took her one full three-sixty and a shrug to realize what it was. One now-loose bra strap slumped over the curve of her shoulder.
Oh. Damn.
With a harassed sigh, she stuffed her bundle into the machine and started the cycle, taking a moment to be grateful that she at least wouldn’t have to take the time to hang anything on a line, thanks to the imported dryer sitting next to the older washer. Then, with some careful wriggling and a cautious glance over her shoulder through the opening to the empty hallway, she worked her bra straps down her arms beneath the long sleeves, then tugged it from beneath her sweater. A quick inspection revealed one of the hooks ripped nearly all the way off the band. The tear ran nearly to the cup, and looked unsalvageable.
Damn, and damn again.
It was a good bra, a pretty, porcelain white with green lace overlay and lots of support. She huffed again, and cast a narrow gaze over the shoji. Stalking over, she propped the bra-dangling hand against one hip and ran the fingers of her other hand over the wooden frame, looking for whatever had caught it enough to rip it, but the wood frame seemed smooth and un-splintered.
Thanks to everything that had happened, she was already running behind with her tasks for the day; she’d planned to have started dinner almost an hour ago. Now she was going to have to trek over to her own room and find another bra before she made it to the kitchen. Irritation bubbled up in her chest, and she smacked at the door. “What do you think you’re doing, when I have so much else to do? I missed both breakfast and lunch, and now dinner is going to be late, too?” She brandished the ruined bra, hooked over two fingers. “This is one of my favorites, you know!”
“Housekeeper-san?”
Kagome squeaked and whirled, bra still hanging on prominent display.
Mrs. Uzuma were standing just a little ways down the hallway, watching her with quizzical eyes. The older woman’s perfect makeup from earlier was gone, her dark hair hanging freely down her back, and her cheeks held a pinkish glow that made Kagome wonder with a faint bloom of wistfulness what the Uzuma couple had been doing for the past few hours. And then it made her blush, because it was certainly none of her business to speculate.
Mrs. Uzuma’s dark brown eyes landed on the garment hanging from her fingers, and softened with amusement. “Oh, I see.”
Kagome quickly shoved her hand behind her back and cleared her throat. “Is there something I can do for you, Uzuma-san?”
Mrs. Uzuma smiled. “I was just wondering if my husband and I could get a snack before dinner? We’ve been traveling all day, and since we didn’t have time to stop earlier, we’re a bit hungry.” She flushed, then glanced around, a brow-wrinkled bemusement overtaking features. “Actually, I thought I was heading for the kitchen, since your manager said to help ourselves, but I seem to have…lost my way?” Her head tilted to the side, as if she weren’t quite certain whether she was asking a question or not.
Kagome couldn’t help the smile turning her lips upward. “Everyone loses their way sometimes. Even me, and I’ve been here for months. Sachi is well-known for being a little…strange.”
Mrs. Uzuma returned her smile easily. “Yes, I’ve noticed. But that’s why we came here after all.” She paused. “Only months, though? I’m surprised. For some reason, it felt as if you’d been together for years.”
Kagome’s smile faltered. “No, I’ve just recently come to live at the Sachi. I…” her fingers brushed at her hairline, over her scar. “Was rescued from the woods, and since I have no other place to go, they let me stay. Sachi is home now, though.”
Mrs. Uzuma’s expression went from interested to thrilled. She clasped her perfectly-manicured hands in front of her. “Rescued? How romantic! It was the owner-san, wasn’t it? I suppose you fell in love at first sight, too, since the two of you seem so comfortable together? You must tell me all about it.”
Kagome blinked at her. Comfortable? What in the world about their earlier meeting had convinced her of that? Nothing about her relationship with InuYasha felt comfortable at the moment. In fact, a distinct and specific discomfort brewed stronger and stronger every time they were in each other’s presence.
Except… Last night she’d fallen asleep against his body, hadn’t she? It had felt entirely comfortable. Like she belonged there, with him. She wondered how long he’d let her sleep on his shoulder before moving her to the couch. She wondered what it would be like to fall asleep in the same bed with him—with or without clothing…
…And the discomfort was back, warm and slick, inside and out.
“Housekeeper-san?”
Kagome startled back to the expectant Mrs. Uzuma, and her cheeks went hot to have been caught with her mind wandering in such a direction. “Um, you seem a bit mistaken about our relationship.”
Unexpectedly, Mrs. Uzuma smiled. “Am I? I’d still like to hear about your story. The staff here seems very much like a family, but you say you’ve only been here a little while.”
Kagome sighed, then propped a hand on her hip. “Well, I am done with the laundry. You said you were hungry? I’ll walk you to kitchen and make you a snack to take to your husband before I start dinner.”
Mrs Uzuma lifted a slim brow, then pointed delicately. “Oh, I’m sure I can find my own way to the kitchen if you’d like to…”
Kagome glanced down to where her bra still hung in plain sight from two fingers. “Oh. Well…” She thought for a moment. She should go change, but her sweater was super soft and not itchy at all, and actually felt sensually pleasant against her bare breasts. Going without support would be a little annoying, of course, but she could probably get dinner started and make a quick sojourn to her room after that. Besides, letting a new guest wander around Sachi alone probably wasn’t a good idea.
She folded her bra and turned to give it a wistful toss into the small garbage can sitting in between the two machines against the back wall. “No, it’s all right. It’s better if I go with you.”

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


She gave Mrs. Uzuma a bare bones, slightly sanitized version of her arrival and stay at the Sachi, managing to start the rice and prep the vegetables while she made the Uzumas a snack. Mrs. Uzuma was very pleasant person, who saw things in an unusual light, and listened with fascinated eyes and an expressive mouth. When she left, her eyes were knowing and firmly unconvinced that InuYasha and Kagome were anything but a happy couple living under the supernatural blessing of a supernatural house, and she was very vocal with her belief as she sailed out the door.
Amused despite her misunderstanding, Kagome set about making the rest of dinner, completely forgetting her plan to change. She managed to only be a little late serving food, to her satisfaction, and both the Nozaki couple and the Uzumas seemed quite happy despite the small wait.
The atmosphere in the kitchen was particularly cheerful for some reason, with Miroku practically whistling his way through his meal, and Kaede listening with wide eyes and an indulgent smile as Shippou told her and Kagome about the some of the study-work he’d done for Miroku during the afternoon, basking in the attention of both women.
InuYasha was completely absent, and no one had seen him since he’d dropped off the Uzumas’ bags earlier. Kagome voiced some worry over his absence, but Miroku reminded her with a dismissive wave of his damaged hand that InuYasha would come find food if he was hungry.
By the time dinner was over, a storm had started outside, heavy snow whirling soft and silent around Sachi, floating against the windows and making everything inside feel insulated and warm. The Uzumas, eyes nakedly devouring each other, vanished back into their room. Miroku pulled out a kotatsu, and he and Shippou played a friendly game of shogi with the Nozaki couple while Kaede sat and read by the fire in the front room. Kagome declined to participate and cleaned up the kitchen instead, smiling as she listened to the distant chatter of voices and laughter and sipped some hot tea.
InuYasha remained nowhere to be seen.
Eventually, everyone drifted towards their own rooms and the Sachi grew quieter.
Kagome was almost done with her tea when Kaede and Miroku reappeared in the kitchen, bundling up as they walked. Kagome glanced askance at their coats, wraps and gloves, and Miroku explained that Kaede had left a few things in the cabin and wanted to bring them in before she retired to bed. Shippou had fallen asleep mid-game and was already tucked into bed.
In a small flurry of snow, they left, closing the door tightly behind them, and Kagome finally remembered the laundry. Rinsing out her cup, she went to go transfer everything to the dryer she was oh-so-thankful to have.

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


He waited for the Sachi to settle into quiet, until the clatter and thumps of movement and the tittering murmur of laughter died away, before he exited his room.
Since everyone knew not to bother him in his room, he’d figured it was the safest place to wait out his insanity. He hadn’t thought it through, though, because being trapped alone and bored with his thoughts and his body (which had been forcefully reminded of its sex-deprived state and had spent all afternoon punishing him for it) was its own kind of torture. He’d never noticed it before, but his room was the only place in all of Sachi completely devoid of Kagome’s scent. She’d never been in there, so had never left a trace of herself behind. He hadn’t noticed because he didn’t spend a lot of time in his room. So he’d spent some of the afternoon and evening with a stupidly hard dick until he’d gotten fed up and taken care of it himself (which hadn’t been satisfying at all, damn it), and all of the afternoon and evening growing increasingly disturbed by the lack of Kagome’s scent around him.
What the hell was up with that, anyway? Was he so used to her scent that it felt wrong now not to have it somewhere nearby?
When the Sachi quieted down, he left his room—not because it was safe, but because he couldn’t stand it anymore. For the first time in five years, alone and bored had utterly failed him.
He wandered the halls for a few minutes, no particular destination in mind, just taking in the relief that loosened his chest when he stepped out into the hallway and drew in a breath that contained the subtle hint of Kagome’s scent. He hadn’t realized how tight and tense he’d gotten until some of it fell away and he could breath right again.
He was walking—with his stupid head down, as if he didn’t know better in this damn house—with the vague idea of sticking along the outer walls of the Sachi and listening to the storm outside, when he rounded a random corner and found himself swamped with the warm scents of dinner and Kagome. His feet slowed to a stop, and he lifted his head, glanced around the room he’d unintentionally walked into.
The kitchen. Damn it.
At least it was deserted. Only a few of the lights, over the sink and the stove, were on.
She lingered in here more than any room other than her bedroom. No one had asked it of her, but she seemed to spend most of her time in here, either sitting at the table planning out meals and divvying up chores, or cooking, or doing dishes, or even just bundling up and sitting out on the porch in some of her in-between moments during the day. He knew about those in-between moments because he’d been more and more tempted to just sit with her when they came (Or better yet, tempted to find her something better to do with her free time. Something warmer.).
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how very much hers the kitchen had become. And the room acknowledged it by keeping the subtle essence of her scent in the air, underlining all the dish soap and hot water, the warm rice and the bitter tinge of tea leaves. Other people came and went, but Kagome, she stayed. Her kitchen, buried deep inside his house.
For a while, he stood there, staring blankly across the emptiness, the few dishes yet to be washed in the sink, the electric kettle out on the island, keeping water hot for anyone who might wander in for tea or chocolate.
I don’t want to be here. He thought it absently, mildly, his senses distracted by the warmth and the quiet and the scents. He made to leave before anyone he didn’t want to see happened by and found him, but when his legs moved, it was toward the kitchen table, to pull out a chair, sprawl down heavily and close his eyes and inhale. He rubbed a hand over his face, pressed his finger and thumb into his eyelids, and made a conscious effort to release some of the tension he’d been carrying around all day.
It was easier here than it had been all day, but it wasn’t because this was where her scent was strongest. It fucking wasn’t. Just like a warmth hadn’t settled in his chest when he’d walked into this room. Scowling, he leaned his head against his hand, one claw tapping his irritation into the wood of the tabletop.
His ears were pricked and listening, so he should have heard her come in.
Should have.
“InuYasha?”
Damn house.
He opened his eyes and found her standing just inside the doorway, giving him a questioning look. Same sweater, same jeans; she still hadn’t changed. Same damn body that made him want to strip her, put her naked on the floor right here, in the middle of the kitchen that was hers. Her hair was loose again, though, falling around her shoulders, thick, black, vaguely wavy and mussed—as if she’d just let it out of that braid she’d had it in earlier. Her gray eyes were dark in the soft light. Probing again.
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I don’t need anything. I’m leaving anyway.”
Her lips pursed closed, and her eyes reprimanded. He tensed for sharp words, but after a moment, she sighed and rolled her eyes. The disgruntled press of her mouth relaxed, as if she’d dismissed him and his snappish attitude, and her lips were suddenly soft and welcoming, almost smiling. “We missed you at dinner.” A gentle chiding curled through her words, her voice soft.
InuYasha watched the way her mouth moved, fascinated by the almost-curve at the seem of her lips. When he realized she’d stopped, he grunted. “I was busy.”
She rolled her eyes again (as if he couldn’t see her), and finally turned away from him, heading for the appliance side of the island.
It took a little effort, but he managed to rip his eyes away from her mouth. They landed on her chest. On the tantalizing jiggle of her chest as she walked.
He blinked. Slowly.
No…bra?
Holy shit.
Kagome wasn't wearing a bra. Why? Wasn't she just a little too...uh...big to go without one? She’d for damn sure had one on earlier—he’d definitely have noticed otherwise when she’d been plastered against him in the hallway. And no way in hell would he have been able to resist getting them bare in his hands. What had possessed her to go without one now?
She reached the sink and started putting cleaned and now-dry dishes away. He should leave now, like he’d said he would.
But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the slight bounce as she moved around the kitchen, her whole attitude relaxed and contented. That damn blue sweater seemed almost poured over her tonight. Every time she lifted her arms or twisted this way or that, he got a better idea of the shape of her, of how soft and generous her breasts were, went a little more insane each time her skin rubbed against the material of her sweater.
It made him want to bite. Just a little nibble, not enough for his sharp canines to cut, but enough to make sure she felt it through her clothes. Was she wearing some kind of shirt underneath her sweater, or was it just skin on soft-knit material? How much pressure and diligence would it take for him to be able to see her puckered up and tight even through the thick barriers separating his lips from her skin? How much teasing would it take before she was wet and moaning, and wouldn't care at all if he just pushed the damn sweater up out of his way? How long before her scent took on that thick, delicate musk that made him want to nudge his nose between her legs, swipe his tongue along the seam until it was coated with the clear, slick—
“InuYasha?”
He started so hard the table rattled. He blinked again, only to find her frowning at him from behind the counter.
“No.” His voice had a feral edge to it that he didn't have a prayer of suppressing, a by-product of the iron-hard, aching state he'd just daydreamed himself into.
Fuck.
But she'd taken a step back at his odd response, so he cleared his throat of some of the roughage and tried again. He should have gotten his ass out of there immediately. Instead, he reasoned, he needed time to cool his body down, and that a little bit of mundane conversation might be just the thing to help. “What?”
Her gray eyes, swirly and mysterious as the clouds outside before a blizzard, rested on him for a long, puzzled moment. “I asked if you wanted something to eat?” Caution made her voice husky and soft, and he couldn't help but wonder how much screaming it would take to make her rasp like that permanently. “If you’re hungry, I saved you a dish. Or I can just make you a snack, if you want?”
“A snack?” Yes. You. “Don’t bother. I'm fine.”
Ah, shit. He knew that feral edge hadn't left his voice yet, and he knew he was staring at her with the intensity of a hunter at its prey. So why the fuck couldn't he stop? Better yet: why didn't he leave?
Because sharp, delicious-smelling Kagome was sensitive enough to pick up on his raging lust. A hot flush was already creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, and her awareness of him lit heated sparks in her smoke-filled eyes. Her breath was growing faster and shallow, and—
He raked a quick look down at her chest, only to have his gut clench with unbearable anticipation; his cock jumped, the strain against his zipper almost enough to make him wince.
—without so much as a touch, the rounded curves of her breasts were already pushing excited peaks into the wispy blue of her sweater.
Fuck. He wasn't even anywhere near her. They were just staring at each other in silence across the span of the kitchen: him from the other side of the kitchen table; her from behind the counter. And in the warm, enclosed atmosphere around them, creeping in through the older scents of cooked food and dishwater, was that oh-so-enticing thread of richness and want: the scent of sex, of physical reaction. Of a long, hot, panting night filled with sweat-slick limbs, tangled tongues, and thrusting, primal, throbbing pleasure.
She was already there. He knew it as surely as if he'd stripped her down and checked her body with his own fingers. Slick and needy under her clothes, and probably almost as uncomfortable in her jeans as he was tortured in his.
And he hadn't even done anything yet.
Fucking yet.
The temptation to move was so strong. A growl caught deep in his chest, so low even he could only feel it rumbling inside of his body. She couldn't have heard it. But she drew in a deep breath anyway and took a hesitant step towards the middle of the room. Towards removing one of the flimsy physical impediments between her body and his.
“Don't.” The word was a gentle, rolling growl of warning, the almost-courteous thunder before the violent storm, forced out by some instinct that he didn't understand—not when everything else inside of him was waiting with baited breath and rigid muscles.
If either of them moved he was going to pounce on her. Damn the place and damn his objections, whatever the hell they were. And damn whatever poor bastard had the bad luck to stumble onto them before they were done, because once they got started he was going to kill anyone who tried to interrupt.
Somewhere in his head, that part of him that had never seen any reason to resist her was snickering.
Eyes wide and shocked, Kagome went still, very much like a rabbit sensing danger in a field. Her nostrils flared and the breasts that had started this rose and fell as she drew in another deep breath; his mouth watered. Her tongue slid along her lips, dampening them and making them glisten in the low light, and he growled again, louder this time.
She didn't even acknowledge the sound. “And if I don't 'don't'?” She took another slow, deliberate step forward. Feminine awareness curved her lips. “What will you do then?”
And that was it. Whatever reluctance had made him order her to stop crumbled away. Wood scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet, palms pressed into the smooth wood of the table, itching with eagerness and the pain of long-denied lust.
The door from outside slammed open. A freezing blast of near-arctic wind peppered with bits of snow blew through the cozy heat of the kitchen, and Miroku and Kaede bustled in, shivering and dusting piles of snow from the creases of their clothes, creating a general racket that shredded the hot trance that had gripped the entire room.
Kagome gave a surprised shudder and retreated towards the stove. InuYasha didn't move.
Miroku, panting and grunting as he pulled the door shut behind him, made all the requisite sounds of a human being who needed to thaw out as he tugged off his boots and set them with the other outdoor shoes off to the side before he took Kaede's as well. “May all of heaven help anyone out there who doesn't have shelter. It's freezing.” Finally he looked up and around. “Kagome, my dear, you wouldn't happen to have some hot—” Violet eyes widened as he took in InuYasha and his stiff-muscles grip on the table in front of him, then the brilliant red of Kagome's face as she made herself conspicuously busy over the pots on the burners. “Oh?”
Kaede nodded, her wrinkles taking on a wry arrangement and her voice laced with amusement. “It appears we've interrupted something.”
“So it does.” Miroku shot a knowing, lip-twitching look at InuYasha. “I believe our wisest course of action would be to vacate the kitchen immediately.”
InuYasha shook his head. “No.” The shock of thwarted lust had already hit him with a vengeance, and for the second time in one day he couldn't stop the fine trembling that shook him while he remembered why he should stay away from her: the powers, the unknown circumstance that had brought her here—the fear. The idiotic, unshakable certainty that if he gave in, he wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening again. “I was just keeping warm.” Keeping hot, actually. Burning.
Damn.
For an instant, he hated them: his best friend, and the trusted confidant who was his only link to the last woman who'd had such an effect on him. The instant passed and he found he could move. It was painful, because even if his body was under his control again, it wasn't above sending gut-twisting reminders of its needs in the most obvious way possible; but he could move.
And he did. He moved quickly, away from the table, and past Miroku and Kaede. Away from Kagome. The door slammed open, and the cold hit him with a brain-numbing blow to the face.
“InuYasha, what are you doing?” Miroku sounded alarmed. “You don't need to go. Kaede and I will happily—”
He gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. “Don't bother.”
“But it's freezing out there. Even for you. You're not even wearing a coat!”
In bare feet, he stepped out and slammed the door closed again behind him. “I know.”

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

A/N: I’m not mean. I’m not. I swear. The poor guy is gonna get laid soon. So is the poor girl. Soon. Very, very soon. Like, next chapter. Next next at the latest.
…Maybe. You know. I think.
I’m not mean. I’m a very nice person. Almost sometimes a hundred percent.
So I read on one of the many writing websites that I follow a good thing to do for a new year is, instead of making new year’s resolutions, to name a theme to follow for each new year. The idea being, if you follow the theme instead of putting a bunch of pressure on specific resolutions, you end up being more productive. I thought that sounded fun. So I have a theme for the new year. Wanna know what it is?
“Complete.”
Not bad, right? I figure if I wanna make a real, honest-to-goodness go at this writing thing, I’m going to have to start actually wrapping up the stories I’ve got going on. So, yeah. Bring on 2017! (What? Of course I’m still alive! Jeesh. What a silly think to think. I don’t know why you’d think a think like that. I’m right here. Have been for years. My day job still sucks, but, well… “Complete.” Right? ^_~)
~Quillwing