Unexpected

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Kagome woke up that day with a gut feeling that it was going to be a bad one.

"Where's my dumplings?!"

"Eelch! I wanted eel, not fish!"

"Where's the squid, Ryu-kun? It should've been here hours ago!"

"Waitress! I need the waitress!"

"Three fried fish, two green teas, and a bowl of rice—order up!"

Kagome quickly walked up to the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining place and lowered her head. "Be careful Kagome," the chef and owner of the establishment said as he placed the tray on head. "It's hot." She grinned at him, balancing the order on the top of her skull, both arms weighed down with various bowls, plates and other circular trays. "Always am, Yuto-san." And with that, she sauntered away, carefully avoiding rambunctious customers and oblivious children among other, more varied pitfalls.

It was packed today. Coming to the nearest table to her, she carefully nudged three bowls of soup off her forearm and shimmed the tray that was resting on her elbow down on the edge of the table. "Sorry for the wait," she said cheerfully, placing each bowl with their respective orders and then picking up the tray so it lay flat on her palm. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you," the father said as his two children dove for their meal, but Kagome was already off to the next table: A group of sweaty middle aged men that worked down in the fields, making sure that the crops stayed healthy and the irrigation ditches didn't get blocked. Upon seeing her, one of them, Koteki, spoke up. "Ah, no need Kagome-chan!" he said cheerfully, showing off a row of severely crooked teeth. "We'll just take our regular."

She could've hugged that man, sweat and all. Sending him a grateful smile, she waltzed over to the next table, the one with the overbearing twerp of a young man. She didn't know his name (she called him Lord Narcissist in her mind), but every once in a while he would come in here like they owned the place. "Where's my dumplings!"

"They're right here, sir," she said politely, setting one of her trays down. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Yeah! How about some damn respect! What's with making me wait, huh? Do you even know who I am, you dumb bitch?"

"We'll if there's nothing else, enjoy your meal!" She said cheerfully, sending him a megawatt smile. Before he could manage to say anything else, she was off. What an asshole! She inwardly railed. Honestly, sometimes she wished someone could come in and give him a good beating or two, just to show him exactly where he stood on the totem pole.

"Oh! Hey! Waitess! Over here!"

"Coming!" And she was, just as soon as she dropped off the three fish, two green teas, and a bowl of rice order to a man and his wife. Oh, and take "the offensive and disgusting eel" off of Mister I-Haven't-Bathed-In-Years hands (who, she might add, actually did order fish and just wanted an excuse to demand a discount). The tray off her head and one hand free, she finally made it to the table that had called her and took their order. It was easy: two bowls of rice with their specialty sauce. "Four squid sticks and tea—Order up!"

Ah. That was "Ryo-kun's" order, the local womanizer that had staked this as his so-called territory. He always took the girls he met here, and if there ever were a day that a new face wandered in—the poor girl wouldn't know what hit her.

Her previously free hand was immediately occupied with the new order and she shifted her load around a little bit to accommodate. Once again carrying three trays, though thankfully she was spared having to balance the third on her head, she was off to deliver the sake set to a wondrously patient group of local guards. "Sorry for the wait, guys," she said expertly unloading the tray and quickly reloading it with the remnants of their discarded meal. "Its fine, Kagome-san," Hojo replied shyly, the youngest, and greenest of the guards. "We weren't waiting long." She could only spare him a brief smile before she went and delivered to the Womanizer. The two girls he had with him today were admittedly pretty, rude, and just his type. "Where have you been?" One of them demanded, her face painted with products that most of the town population couldn't afford. "We've been waiting for ages now!" The other added sharply, accenting her comment with the snap of her fan as she delicately hid her sneering face. "Oh, and the stench of you. How aweful."

"Sorry for the wait," Kagome responded, a little less cheerfully than she might have. For whatever reason when men insulted her she felt she could take it, but when other girls did it burned much more. She had half a mind to "accidentally" spill their tea on them, but she figured that the clean up wasn't worth the reward. Better to just pull out before some other, equally wicked, idea tempted her and she actually carried it out.

Making it back to the divider, she slipped her trays onto the counter. "What's this," Yuto-san demanded, gesturing angrily at the perfectly good eel order that was brought back to him. It was a well known fact how good of a chef Yuto-san was and he took great pride in everything he did. To have something sent back was of the highest insults. Kagome blew out a breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. "The man insisted that he had ordered fish, not eel."

"Did he?"

"No," Kagome said flatly. "He just wanted a discount as an apology."

It was also a well known fact that Kagome had an excellent memory. It would be a rare day indeed that she would mix up an order like that.

"Well then," Yuto-san growled, "He can just leave if he's going to be like that." Reaching out of the little window where the orders were delivered and handed off to her, Yuto-san grabbed a string and furiously waved it back in forth. The string was attached to several broken cooking pans that couldn't be used anymore and it made quite the racket, quieting the full house almost instantly. "HEY!" He shouted. "Who sent back this eel, huh?"

"I did!" A voice came back and up stood a grubby older man with a shining, balding head and covered sweat and grime. "I told that wench of yours fish and she brought me back that eel! I hate eel!"

"You ordered fish, you fat bastard!" Yuto-san answered back, showing that despite his age, he could still pull of belligerence quite well. If there was anything that Kagome learned from working here, it was that the owner would forever be young at heart. "Now ya either own up to it, pay extra for this perfectly good, wasted, eel and that supposed fish order, or ya get out!"

"Why would I pay extra you—!"

"Cause you're a lying swindler, ya rat! Now get out of my establishment!"

For a second, it looked like he would still argue, but then, red in the face and cheeks quivering with rage, he scurried out, swearing all the way. Rat, Kagome thought carefully, rolling the name around. Well he was fat, and he did kind of look like one…

…

Yup, she nodded, He'll be Rat.

After a few moments passed, the noise and chatter of relaxed customers returned as everyone went back to their business. Kagome let out a small relieved sigh, and turned back to her boss. "Thanks, Yuto-san."

"No problem, now what have you got for me?"

"Dirty dishes—"

"Souta!"

"—the usual for our farmers, two bowls of rice with specialty sauce, and more tea for the gentlemen in the back."

"Ah, the samurai?" Kagome followed Yuto-san's gaze to a more secluded corner of the eatery. Two men sat there, both regal and distant in appearance, and both had swords at their hips. Kagome frowned and turned her back, lowering her voice. "I don't think so, Yuto-san."

"Oh?" She shook her head. "Have you ever seen a uniform like that?" Yuto squinted over her head as Souta came up behind him and gathered the dirty dishes. Souta was her younger brother by three years. They'd been orphaned a few years back when her mother and grandfather were taken by the plague and their shrine burned to the ground. The both of them had been trying to find work ever since and were very lucky that Yuto-san had taken a shine to them both.

"You're right, Kagome," he said as Souta carted away the dishes to be washed. "I haven't seen those uniforms before. We haven't gotten another minor lord, have we?"

Kitahashi wasn't a small town. They had room for inns, a small fraction of farmlands, restaurants, a few minor lords, and even an established (thriving) red light district. But despite all this, it still wasn't that big. If they'd gotten a new lord, they'd have heard about it by now instead of having to guess by any newcomer wearing a uniform. And speaking of uniforms…something was off about theirs.

Actually, a lot of things were off about these particular individuals but it was the uniforms that really made you look. They were dressed entirely in black: black kimono shirt, black hakama that were tightly wrapped in black fabric that led into two-toed shoes. It was like someone had mixed the samurai with the ninja, as strange as it was. And the only speck of color on them was the deep, imperial purple haori that rested casually on their person, held together at the front by a single white tie. Kagome didn't know who they belonged to, but whoever they were they had some guts to be wearing the color of royalty. Only the highest ranking nobles and the emperor himself were allowed to wear such a robust color in a uniform.

Kagome's eyes were drawn to the swords at their waist as well. They were the typical weapon choice of samurai, a katana. Theirs in particular sported bright white handle wrapping with a black saya, a single decorative purple cord wrapped around the sleek sable lacquer. Unlike samurai, however, there was only one sword which easily ruled them out of being warriors of Japan.

It wasn't uncommon for people who weren't samurai to carry swords—in this world you needed some form of defense and if you knew how to use the sharp, pointy sticks, then by all means carry one. It's just that it was uncommon to see men in uniform, carrying swords, that weren't samurai.

Kagome narrowed her eyes.

"We would have heard about a new lord, Yuto-san," she murmured quietly. Then she leaned forward, putting her mouth closer to his year and masking the move by reaching for the teapot in his hands. "Yakuza," she whispered into his ear and pulled away quickly. His face showed that he was in deep thought, but he quickly changed it back to his normal, jovial countenance and laughed. Kagome knew he only did it to make sure that it looked as if she had just told a joke, so she played along and giggled as well.

With people like that around, even if it hadn't been confirmed, you could never be too careful. Picking up her trays, she began to make her rounds, stopping only to help customers. The suspected "yakuza" didn't ever give them any trouble though, and beyond Kagome's own random theories, they did nothing to suggest they were here for a reason. They just ate, paid for their bill and left. They even tipped her!

She watched them walk out of their entrance with a wary, thoughtful eye before shrugging and going back to work. Maybe they were just passing through.

The work day continued after that, an endless supply of orders and fast paced waitressing. It was only a short hour later, after Kagome had exhausted her supply of energy and the shop was closing for their daily two-hour interval to restock, that that gut feeling she had been having all day finally came to fruition.

Kagome was cleaning the tables, pocketing the sparse amount of tips that she could find when they walked in, their shadows stretching over the empty eatery with the blood red backdrop of a setting sun. "Oh," she said, watching as they blustered in, red in the face and more than a little stumble in their steps. It wouldn't be the first time that drunks had found themselves at their door, and while usually they didn't mind, they were closing. Kagome needed her two hour energy recharge in order to work the night shift, and really, this was the last thing she needed.

Braving a cheery smile despite her exhaustion, she instantly began to explain that yes, I'm sorry but we are closing and no, I'm sorry but I can't make an exception.

"Oh, come on," one of them whined, presumably the leader as he was standing slightly in the front, his two friends flanking his sides. "You look like a sweet little thing, how about giving us a treat?"

"I'm sorry," Kagome repeated, her smile a little more acrid than it had been before. As drunk as they were though, she didn't think they'd notice the change. "But we are closed and I can't let you eat here. Feel free to come back in two hours, though. The doors will be open at that t—"

"Blah, blah, blah," He guffawed, walking straight past her and settling down at a table, his buddies following him. "You sure to talk a lot for a serving whore."

"Excu—!"

"Hey!" He interrupted again, pointing at her. "Bring us some sake!" He held up three fingers. "And four cups. The last one's for you." He winked at that last statement. Kagome stared at him blankly for a second before holding up three fingers. "Four cups?" He repeated the gesture, again with three fingers. "Four cups."

Wow, he was drunk.

"We are closed," She said firmly, resuming in her task of cleaning up. "And if you don't get out I will gladly get the owner out here and—"

"Hey owner! Your bitch is being rude," he called back angrily. "Get out here and cover her horns, will ya!"

Kagome was a pretty girl—it wasn't uncommon for leery bozos who's eyes wandered a little more than their hands got a little touchy with her. As such, Yuto-san had turned into her personal body guard. Sure he was old and usually needed a cane to hobble upstairs after a long hard day's work, but that man had been given the gift of tongues. He could lash you like a cat-o-nine-tails whip with his voice alone, leaving you writhing in anguish, embarrassment, and robbed of your voice. People were always telling him to shut your whore up or to "cover her horns" and his response had always been quick, brutal, and demeaning. He'd always come to her rescue.

But.

It was not his scratchy, infuriated voice that chased away the demons in his store that came. Instead it was the heavy, droll silence that sounded like the executioners drum.

Kagome froze. Oh no…no, no, nonononono…When they close for the two hours Kagome is sometimes left alone to clean the tables while Yuto-san and Souta head out to meet the supplies to restock their kitchen. It's meant to be a very short interval, as their shipment is usually waiting at their doorstep, but if had gone and not come back, that meant that there was a hold up.

A hold up that could take who-knows-how-long.

"Oi!" The man called again, and only then did Kagome really take notice at how much bigger he was than her. He and his buddies were all a lot ta—was that a knife? And it was, hidden in the sleeve of one of his goons kimonos. And if one was carrying a knife, then it was probable that they all were.

"Well would you look at that," the ringleader said, slowly getting to his feet, exaggerating his posture to make him look taller. And by god did it work. He was well over a head and a half taller than she was, and he was the short one! "Umm…" she stalled, clutching one of her serving trays tightly. She'd used them as make-shift weaponry before, flinging them across the dining hall like a wooden Frisbee to bonk across some unfortunate's skull, but she knew it wouldn't work all that well this time.

Ring Leader seemed to know this too. He was grinning in the most repulsive of ways and sniggering under his breath as his friends sneered beside him. "Looks like your owner isn't home."

"We should fuck her," one of his friends said and Kagome whipped her face to him in fear. "I-I'll scream!" she threatened pitifully, only thinking of her restrictive kimono as she began to slowly and carefully inch her way towards the exit. Maybe Souta and Yuto-san would come in soon. If she just waited a little bit, maybe this would all solve itself? "Ooh…we like screaming."

"And fighting too," Another added, looming over her as they tried to herd her into a corner. No! She should run! Run as fast as she could! If she could make a break for it…if she could just scream loud enough…then surely someone would help. Kagome was a fast runner, and it wasn't like they were on an unpopulated street so if she could just get her kimono out of the way—

"Why don't you take your hair down for us," the other friend said, all snaggle-toothed and bad breath. This was bad. This was very, very bad. They were coming closer and closer, and she kept backing up, vainly hoping that Yuto-san's boisterous voice would save the day once again. They stepped forward, she shuffled two steps back, another step, two more shuffles, two more large steps and she fairly skipped backwards when they reached the chopsticks holding up her hair and yanked them free, reaching for her kimono top while they were at it.

That was it—she should have started running long ago.

With a shriek that sounded like a murder was happened, she turned, yanked open the kimono slip by her legs and tore down the street barefoot. "HELP!" She screamed, their shouts of "Get her!" and "Bitch!" following her like hellhounds on her heels. "Somebody help me!"

But it was as if no one really cared. Face after face blurred by her, only having enough time to part before her path but not enough sense to at least hinder her pursuers. Squawks of surprise and angry cart pullers shouted after her, the wayward chicken kicked out of the way, and the occasional child being missed by millimeters. "Help me!" She cried, feeling her pursuers at her back, hearing their footsteps mere moments behind her. She could imagine their arms—longer than hers and much stronger—reaching for her and pulling her back by her hair. They were there now, hovering, her head just out of reach.

Her chest was heaving, feeling caged by her obi and her legs were burning, slowly being turned to unstable, wobbly things that she couldn't depend on. Her hands were tingling like they always did when she started to run, and her throat felt dry and thick. She was so out of breath that she worried that screaming even one more time would rob her of it entirely. What if she couldn't run? What awful things would they do to her if she were caught? Oh, why wasn't anyone helping—

So fast she hardly had time to react, a hand of iron clamped like a shackle round her wrist and pulled. She was abruptly hauled to the side and slammed into a chest made of brick with a slightly squishy covering. She was so stunned at the change in direction that she didn't even scream when an equally imprisoning arm wrapped around her back and curled her inwards. By the time that she had enough wits to struggle and cry to the heavens above for mercy, her captor had spoken, stilling her entirely with a surprisingly gentle baritone and a…warm, dare she say comforting, embrace.

"You're safe."

Distantly, through her happily shocked brain processing that yes, someone had helped, she heard a devastating noise.

Her grandfather had explained it to her once, saying that it sounded like the angry shriek of hot metal plunged into water, hissing like a serpent dragon and ready to rain hellfire on its enemies. It sounded like the anguished screams of a million souls, clawing their nails across thousands of koto strings so tight they broke like brittle bones. It was the sound of crystal tears shattering as the heavens opened up and cried in misery. It was the agonized howl of the tortured banshee ringing like an alarm bell in ear, and yet it sung with such deadly sweetness and harmony that the cacophony was rendered into the devils symphony.

She had never heard it before now, but she knew that this is what her grandfather had been speaking of. Only one thing in the entire world could scream like that-only one.

A demon's weapon had been drawn.

So this, she thought, is what death sounds like.

A/N: So...who do you think her savior is, huh?

I honestly never imagined that I would ever write this pair, but what can I say? The temptation was too much! Anyways, fear not! My other stories will continue, especially DEFCON since I have once again joined the writer's-will-prevail-above-writer's-block bandwagon. This isn't mean to be dark or angsty-just a little multi-chaptered love story between Kags and my most recent ship. Honestly, I'm basically going to be whoring her out to anyone who has an XY chromosome and meets my requirements of possible chemistry. Bear with me!

But really, who doesn't enjoy a little fluff with hero's, villains, and damsels that happen to have brains, right?

Enjoy :)

-Ruby