InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Waiting on a Wish ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: Just a little fair warning for anyone paying attention. I often go back and do a slight overhaul to the storyline of a WIP--changing a few story elements, patching up stuff I’m unhappy with. That also means some updating of earlier chapters, so you might get multiple e-mail notices if you’re on the notify list. So sorry if I start cluttering up your inboxes. I’m just trying to get it as perfect as possible. (OCD, as one reviewer said ^_^) I really appreciate that you’re still reading, even with my random sporadicness.

Her not-so-royal absentmindedness, ~Quill

CHAPTER 4

The next morning, InuYasha made the mistake of showing up for his bi-weekly training sessions with Sango. They’d taken up the practice after their first couple of hunts together, and it was one they both enjoyed. The dojo they practiced in belonged to her family, and was used exclusively for the training of the hunters from the Yanagimoto family. It was a modest, well-equipped, traditional building that Sango had the run of whenever she wanted.

He arrived earlier than usual, so he decided to run through a few routine exercises to warm up while he waited for her to show. Sango’s skill as a fighter surpassed everyone else in her family. Sparring with her was always a challenge, and he reveled in the chance that it gave him to stretch his muscles.

Mid-tumble, his nose warned him that Miroku had entered the room. Dropping lightly to his feet, he walked over to his friend, who stood leaning against a bare wooden wall, arms folded, observing InuYasha carefully. InuYasha‘s eyes narrowed at his meaningful smirk.

“What the hell is your problem, monk?”

Miroku raised his brows in mock surprise. “My problem? I have no problems. What about you, InuYasha? Did you have any problems last night?”

“What?”

Miroku straightened and stepped away from him, his look one of exaggerated pity. “You should have stayed home today. It was nice knowing you, my friend.”

Sango was in the room as well.

Something hit the back of his neck with incredible force, knocking him forward to skid several feet across the ground. He recovered quickly, catching himself on one hand and back flipping to land lightly on his feet. He found himself facing Sango.

A very pissed Sango. In full battle gear. With her face mask on.

Oh…. Fuck.

“What the hell did I do?”

Deep brown eyes glared at him over her mask. Instead of replying, she attacked him, charging him head on. He dodged to the side to avoid her, but she anticipated, drawing her katana and ramming his ribs with the flat of the blade, using his momentum to add force. He landed in a crouch, huffing slightly at the impact.

Now he wished he hadn’t stripped down to his sweatpants. That had hurt. Damn, that girl is stronger than she should be. What the hell had prompted her to pull her weapon without warning? They rarely used weapons to spar -- he hadn’t even brought Tetsusaiga. He supposed he should be thanking the gods she didn’t have Hiraikotsu.

He blocked a kick and several forceful punches, flipping again to avoid another sweep with her sword -- only to have to leap into the air to avoid another ramming when she reversed directions. He landed several feet away from her, grinding his teeth. She wanted a fight? Fine. That’s what he’d come for anyway.

Using his youkai-derived agility, he took off, running fast, skimming along the walls briefly, using them to flip behind her. He landed with one arm around her throat, the other securing her weapon hand. A twist, and the katana dropped to the ground. “Sango, what…the fuck…is your problem?”

Across the room, Miroku frowned and stepped forward, fracturing InuYasha’s attention for a moment. The hanyou knew his friend well, had fought side-by-side with him numerous times. He knew that behind his gentle, easy-going charm lay one impressive hell of a fighter, and his spiritual power as a monk was nothing to scoff at. These days, nothing got Miroku pissed like his beloved Sango in any kind of trouble--even trouble that she’d instigated. Damn it…. What the hell am I supposed to do?

Sango twisted and dropped, freeing herself and rolling to her feet, still glaring silently at InuYasha. She charged, coming in low, and they exchanged direct blows, blocking and kicking and dodging. Slightly winded, he grabbed her arm and flipped her into the air, knowing she was nimble enough to land on her feet. She twisted mid-air, flinging several pellets into the floor.

They exploded, gray smoke filling the room quickly.

“Damn!” InuYasha jumped back, trying to escape the plumes, hands clapping over his nose. It didn’t help, the revolting aroma penetrated everything, and his eyes immediately watered in agony.

“You…BITCH.” He couldn’t see, and the gas overwhelmed his senses, leaving him doubled over, fighting for consciousness.

A kick to his gut sent him out of the cloud of gas and into a clear corner of the room. He staggered, sitting on the floor because his legs wouldn’t support him, shaking his head. “What the fuck are you doing, Sango!” He was having a hard time breathing as wisps of the gas began to penetrate the corners of the room.

Hands grabbed at his shoulders and rammed him into the wall behind him. “InuYasha, I’d just like you to know that Kagome is my closest, dearest friend. And if you play with her emotions or hurt her in any way, I will hunt you down and rip your lungs out through your nose. Are we clear?” Sango’s voice was quiet, moderate--lethal, for anyone who knew her.

“WHAT! You threw that fucking shit at me because of Kagome?” He still couldn’t see, godsdammit! His palm pressed tighter over his nose. The stench…the gas burning into his eyes…like fucking hell would he lose consciousness.

“That fucking shit will be the least of your problems if you do anything to upset my best friend after she so kindly saved your life for you.”

“Yeah, yeah -- I got it! Just get rid of that shit!” Whatever that gas was, it was specifically designed to drop kick the hell out of him. And it worked. He was barely functional.

FUCK.

“Good.” He felt more than saw Sango straighten and walk away. He heard the slight pop of another pellet, and the terrible smell began to dissipate rapidly. The effects would wear on for a while, he was sure, but at least it was gone for now. He would have to ask Sango what the hell she put in those pellets. They’d never had this effect on him before.

Coughing slightly, he concentrated on keeping the contents of his stomach. Footsteps sounded nearby. Heavier tread. InuYasha turned his head and squinted up at what had to be Miroku. He cursed again, viciously. He felt worse than blind without his nose.

“Thanks for the warning, monk,” he rasped.

Miroku’s blurred figure shook its head sadly. “Self-preservation, InuYasha. She’d have done the same thing to me if I had warned you.”

“Feh! Except you would have enjoyed it.” Red-shot amber eyes narrowed, attempting to see more clearly. “Shit. What the hell was in that gas, Miroku? I can barely see, and I can’t smell anything!”

The monk crouched down next to the debilitated hanyou, and peered at him critically. “It’s something new she and her father have been working on -- for youkai with particularly highly refined senses. Apparently, it works very well. Sango’s father will be pleased. Now all they need is something with noise.”

InuYasha cringed, flattening his ears at the thought. He couldn’t see him, but he swung at the monk anyway, absolutely disgusted when he didn’t even connect. “Do I look like a lab rat to you?!”

“Actually, at the moment you look quite pitiful.”

“Fuck you.” Another quick shake of his head, and InuYasha looked at Miroku again. This time he could make out hazy features. “What in the hell has Sango so mad, anyway?”

Miroku sighed patiently. “Weren’t you listening? Sango’s concerned about your interest in Kagome. She…er…got a call last night -- or, should I say, early this morning.”

InuYasha fell silent, absorbing that end statement. “Fuck.”

“Apparently not, from what I heard while they were talking.”

He scowled. “Eavesdropping again, pervert? Figures.” He blinked as the monk’s face slowly came into focus, grateful that his faculties seemed to be returning to him fairly quickly, although his sense of smell was still mostly numb. He glared at Sango as she returned, her mask now hanging from a strap on her neck, the room clear of smoke. “You couldn’t just say something? You had to use that shit on me?”

Sango appeared unconcerned as she studied him carefully. “You don’t understand logical thought patterns. Violence -- now that you understand. I just wanted to make a point that you would remember.” She frowned. “Are the effects wearing off already?”

“Forget your stupid experiments!”

“Fine. What the hell are you doing with Kagome?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“She’s my best friend. That makes it my business. So does her calling me at some gods-awful hour to ask me about sex!”

White ears twitched.

A strange look flashed over his face--one neither of them had seen before, and it slipped away so fast that neither had time to identify it. He looked at his feet, and his hair fell forward, obscuring his face. “You don’t understand. You can’t. I’m just…trying to protect her.”

“By seducing her?”

Growling, he shot to his feet. “Another thing that’s none of your business.”

“InuYasha, you can’t just expect her to fall into bed with you--”

He growled again, biting out his words through clenched teeth. “Stay. The fuck. Out of it.” He stalked off towards the corner where his stuff still lay in a heap. He shrugged into his discarded tee and jacket, and headed for the doors, rubbing at his still-numb nose, before turning to glare at his two friends. “Damn it, don’t worry about Kagome. I would never hurt her. Not ever.”

Sango frowned after him. “But, InuYasha --” She stopped when she felt Miroku’s hand on her arm. She looked at him, but he shook his head. He watched InuYasha slam his way out the doors, his eyes narrowed.

A thoughtful frown carved his brows. “I’ve never seen him act this way before.” His eyes widened slightly. “I wonder….”

“What should we do?” Worry filled Sango’s voice.

Miroku muttered for a moment before shaking himself out of his thoughts. Then he glanced at Sango, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her snug against him. “Do? My dearest Sango, why should we do anything at all? Obviously, there’s more going on here than we can see -- and unless I’m mistaken, our little hanyou friend is quite smitten with our good doctor. After I’m inclined to believe that the feeling is mutual.”

Sango frowned, considering his confident, rather smug expression. “InuYasha and Kagome? But they just met. How can --”

“Sango, Sango. I think sometimes you forget what InuYasha is.” He shook his head, tapping her nose gently. “He operates a little differently from the rest of us, doesn’t he?”

“But Kagome is already confused, Miroku.”

“I know. And he’ll just make things worse with her by not saying anything. Whatever he wants -- and if this is what I think it is, he wants more than anyone realizes -- Kagome’s not going to just give it to him, especially not after so little time. He’ll have to fight for every inch with her.” He smiled pleasantly. “Watching him blunder his way through this should be very entertaining, don’t you think?”

Sango’s expression was skeptical. “‘More than anyone realizes’, Miroku? It looks pretty clear to me what he wants.”

His smile widened. “Have you ever seen him with another woman? Any other woman?”

She hesitated, frowning in thought, then stared at him. “No.”

His smirk faded a bit, his dark eyes completely serious as they strayed again to the doors. “Nether have I.”

She followed his gaze for moment before turning back to him. “What if Kagome doesn’t want him?”

Miroku’s look was pointed, and instantly, the mischievous spark returned to his gaze. “After the conversation you two had last night, can you honestly ask that?”

Sango blushed, but gave him a long glare. “Sex and love are not the same, monk.”

“True. But InuYasha’s senses go beyond the mere physical. His senses told him something about Kagome the first time they met, and he’s acting on them -- he probably can’t help himself. And if she is any indicator, then his instincts are correct…as they usually are. Has she ever reacted this way to a man before?”

Sango hesitated. “No.” A sigh. “Still, I worry. It could be nothing more than hormones gone wrong.”

Miroku reached up and undid the tie of her ponytail, releasing her hair. He watched in fascination as her dark brown locks tumbled loose, framing her body. He was rapidly losing interest in this conversation. “Time will tell, Sango. Besides, I have faith in Kagome. You’ve known her much longer than I have. Do you really have any doubt in her ability to handle InuYasha?”

A small smile broke over Sango’s face as she took in his absorbed countenance. “So we just watch and wait? Do nothing at all?” His hands drew her closer. She ran her hands up his chest, feeling muscle under cloth. She was beginning to lose interest in the conversation as well.

“And enjoy the show.” Miroku agreed, lowering his lips to hers. He reached for the edges of her body suit, untying the armor and allowing it to drop to the floor. His mouth moved along her jaw, searching for her neck, and his hands searched for the opening of the suit. “I believe everything will turn out satisfactory. After all, if InuYasha does make a mistake, he has you to contend with, doesn’t he?” He murmured between tastes. “That alone will make him think twice about how he acts with Kagome.” He raised his head, grinning mischievously down at her flushed features. “I’m a very lucky man, Sango.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.” Her body suit loosened, falling partially away from her chest, and Miroku took delighted advantage, his mouth moving lower.
Sango broke away, making a half-hearted protest. “Miroku! This is the dojo! Anyone from my family could just walk in.”

“You reserved this room for training today, remember?” He mumbled, concentrating on the barely revealed curve of one breast.

Gods, he loved it when she wore her body suit. So many delightful bits, so well-displayed, so much more accessible. Beautiful Sango: his future wife, the mother of his future children. “On second thought, I hope someone does walk in. Maybe then we could get an actual wedding date, instead of mediocre plans no one means to see through.”

The suit fell to her waist, and he very gently traced kisses over one breast, then the other, using only his mouth so his hands could shape and massage her perfect bottom. He pulled tightly, shaping her flawlessly against his hips. She moaned, her head falling back, her arms flinging about his neck. He lifted his head to look at her, his grin turning positively wicked. “Have you given any further thought to my suggestion?”

She gasped and squirmed as his fingers edged their way underneath her suit, caressing skin, shoving material out of his way. “I am not getting pregnant, idiot. Now keep going -- I only reserved this room till the end of the hour.”

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InuYasha splashed cold water onto his face and scowled at his reflection in the mirror. His nose still wasn’t working properly, damn them both. It worried the shit out of him that they had a weapon that could render his strengths into weaknesses. It was something he would have to keep in mind the next time they were hunting.

Irritated, he reached for a towel. He’d known he couldn’t keep them out of it, but he hadn’t expected Sango literally to attack him with her toys. And Miroku, damn his traitorous hide, just sat back and laughed.

It only added to the frustration, compounding on the last few days. He looked at his face, at the tension stressing his features. Kagome. Already she was an obsession, haunting his thoughts; already, he was impatient. He stared blindly at the towel in his hands.

Had he really thought the attraction would make things easier?

Last night….

He closed his eyes and groaned as the memory rolled vividly through his head, and his body tightened painfully.

He really hadn’t meant to do anything but take her home, keep an eye on her, make sure she was safe. It had been as much of a surprise to him as it had been to her. But he‘d picked her up, and something had happened. Something deep inside him had stirred with recognition; and the longer he carried her, the stronger it had grown. Then her scent had changed, and he’d known that, on some level, it was affecting her too. By the time they’d reached her home, he’d been down to reaction on a gut level.

It had felt…amazingly right. Everything about it: the curves of her body against him, the feel of her mouth beneath his, her gentleness, the way she responded. Everything. He’d been completely lost in her. But she’d spooked. The intensity of it had scared her. He remembered the offensive scent of fear as it sparked and rose, mixing with the intoxicating scent of her arousal, tainting it, spoiling it. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If it hadn’t been for that damn fear….

He growled deeply, the vibrations resonating in his chest.

Her fear was the one thing he couldn’t overlook. He didn’t want her afraid of him. He couldn’t stand even stand the thought. It wasn't right; she wasn’t supposed to fear him. How could he protect her if she feared him?

He needed her trust, and he needed it in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The way she'd regarded him from her doorway, the caution and the reserve on her face, had hit him almost painfully. He hadn’t realized it until last night, but he’d actually hoped that--

Balling up the towel, he hurled it into a corner and walked out onto the balcony.

But trust had to be earned; he would have to work hard for it, show her that he deserved it. He knew it. He didn’t like it, but he acknowledged it. Still…. Now that they’d gone that far, no way in hell was he starting over. He wouldn’t let her take it back, wouldn’t give her the opportunity to pull away.

Restlessly, his eyes swept across the park.

The delay aggravated him. She belonged to him, with him. They belonged together. He knew that she didn’t realize that yet, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. It didn’t really matter that they’d just met each other. It didn’t matter that he knew more than she did. She was his, and had been from the moment she was born into this world.

He exhaled slowly, scanning the horizon, a troubled frown crossing his face. Urgency hit his gut like a blow, and he inhaled, scowling again at the inadequacy of his injured sense of smell. His instincts screamed at him to claim her entirely before something happened -- to get her so involved in his life that she would never even think of leaving. His mind warned him that pressing too hard might scare her away.

His fist hit the railing.

Patience had never been his strong suit.

The problem was how little he actually knew. He hated the uncertainty, the lack of knowledge, the wondering. He was determined that no harm ever come to her, but making sure she was safe while she was still wary of him would be difficult. Waiting until she accepted him would be nearly impossible.

He thought back to when he’d woken up in her clinic--to the moment he’d realized, the moment he’d recognized her scent.

He’d waited his entire life for that scent. For her. He’d lived for her, and fought to get stronger for her, so that he could protect her when he found her. To do it right this time.

He didn’t want to wait anymore.

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