The steady sound of her rhythmic breathing filled her ears. 'One…two…three…four…' she counted in her mind, synchronizing her breathing with her steps. She kept the metronome in her mind fixed despite the strain she began to feel within her chest. A car cruised by, its headlights cleaving through the darkness of the road. The few streetlights that hung by the roadside dimly illuminated the footpath, acting more as a chain of beacons; waypoints for the occasional drunken salary man who was stumbling home in the early hours of morning. She fumbled at a button on her watch, lighting up the digitized screen, the numbers '5:47' visible. 'Damn…barely halfway…' she cursed in her mind. There would be no inebriated salary men at this hour though. She felt her breathing slowly become more erratic as she began to lose control. The pain in her chest grew. She surrendered to her body's demands. 'Inhale every three steps…exhale every three steps…one…two…three…' she willed herself, trying to regain control. The change in breathing pace initially came as a shock to her anatomy, having been accustomed to the four step routine but eventually the transition transpired and the diaphragmatic motion resumed smoothly.

Sweat was exuding from every pore now, her skin-tight running singlet drenched in her own sweaty excretions. She could feel her usual high ponytail bobbing in time with the impact of her soles. Aside from the footsteps, her panting and the sound of distant traffic, the normally lively neighbourhood was dead silent. Few people were crazy enough to go for a run at five-thirty in the morning but this was her routine and she was dedicated. She could picture her friend, Kagome, still snoring away, blissfully asleep, blissfully unaware of what last night's consumed calories were doing to her now. Her cat Buyo reflected what Sango feared she would become. At first, she was slightly resentful that Kagome could always keep her body slim, despite the inert lifestyle she seemed to have. Sango, taken aback by her own weight gain decided that jogging would perhaps be the best start for her; the thought of taking diet pills or joining weight loss programs never seemed to sit well with her. Admittedly, perhaps what she found most unappealing was the dent it would make in her wallet. But after awhile, she rediscovered that regular exercise was the most wholesome and most fulfilling way for her to burn those excess calories. She even took up Japanese kick boxing, a sport similar to Muay Thai. As a result, she was far more athletic than most boys and also had the ability to kick their ass to boot. She knew this fact did not bode well with her childhood friend, Inuyasha. The silver-maned youth was cocky in every aspect, but it was not as though he was all talk. He was naturally gifted with a supreme athletic ability, and he was not about to let the girl he grew up with beat him now.

"Hehe! Is this as far as you got in that time?" the cocky voice came from behind. "I thought you said I would be the one who needed the five minute handicap!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she responded without missing a breath. 'He already caught up!?' she thought.

They had once shared an intense rivalry as kids, constantly competing, constantly bickering. While Sango always excelled in the classroom, Inuyasha usually excelled in the field. The struggle between the two only ended at the onset of puberty; Inuyasha being a male meant that he had the evolutionary upper hand in any physical contest. Sango meanwhile, despite retaining her intellectual supremacy, was not quite so satisfied, given her tomboy-ish nature. The temporary truce between the two ended when she decided to train again, the threat to Inuyasha's dominance on the track enough to reignite tensions. He knew if she truly wanted to beat him, she could eventually do so. It was only a matter of time if he relaxed.

"Five kilometres in twenty minutes is nothing to me you know," he taunted again. "This is like a walk in the park for me-" he felt an elbow jab into his side, and his foot tangled with her outstretched leg. He stumbled before flying head first into a stray post box. "Hey, that's not fair!" he yelled at Sango, his nose bleeding.

"I'll see you at the bridge! That is, if you even make it there!" Sango waved cheerfully at him, as he could do nothing but watch her slender frame disappear around the corner.

She couldn't help but smile. She knew he wouldn't be able to retaliate; he was too chivalrous. And despite legions of girls lusting after him, he never exploited this, unlike the lecherous playboy, Miroku, who was about as libertine as Inuyasha was loyal. His hands would often find themselves on the nearest effeminate curve, and despite the wails of protest from the girls, it was obvious to see the pleasure derived was mutual. That's not to say the monk, as he so liked to called himself, had no perks going for him for he too, was extremely attractive and intelligent. Even the tomboy Sango would blush whenever they made eye contact for she was a woman after all. Inuyasha however, despised the monk and would frequently become irritated whenever she conversed with him. The envy that sprouted was not due to an underlying desire for her, but rather from a deep emotional bond he shared, and one that he was afraid to lose to another male. The dependency they had on each other rivalled that of love, but one that would be more closely described as a sibling form rather than romantic. Either way, he did not approve of their relationship. Desperate attempts to have the pair break up often failed, resulting in much misconstruing on her part and a jeopardized relationship between the two. Yet reason finally overcame her after the monk slept with one girl too many and the agitated Inuyasha finally eased up.

Inuyasha's loyalty wasn't exactly faultless either though. The sheer attachment he had for any girl would refuse to die down, even after the two would split. Sango still wasn't entirely convinced that he would still be dating Kagome had it not been for her near flawless resemblance to former girlfriend, Kikyo. Even now, he would arrange the occasional rendezvous with her, still unable to let go somewhere. The hurt he caused Kagome was a natural byproduct. It was times like these that she would rebuke the silver-haired youth, so convinced he was that Kagome would understand. Was it not hypocritical of him to berate her about the philandering monk yet behave in the same manner?

She fumbled at her wristwatch again. The digitized display glowed the digits '6:13'. A bridge lay up ahead. She had made it. She collapsed against the iron railing, panting hard, struggling to recover her breath. Her heart was racing, pushed to the limit by the constant strenuous exercise. 'Ten kilometres in forty minutes…' she thought. It was by no means a small achievement; she had averaged a speed of fifteen kilometres per hour. Even after all this time, she still found it hard to believe Inuyasha was capable of managing the same distance in a touch over thirty. 'I'll have to train harder,' she resolved.

She stared out at the black waterway below, which would eventually lead to Tokyo Bay. The effluent that was discharged by the local factories resulted in a polluted aquatic system and it did not smell quite so fresh. Even so, the tranquil sound of the flowing water did provide some peace against the backdrop of traffic. More cars were on the road now, most were blue-collar workers eager to beat the morning traffic or merely sacrifice themselves for their company. She sighed. University was sometimes stressful, but she could not even begin to contemplate what the average salary man felt. Slaving day in and day out for the same company every week was not the slightest bit appealing. She wanted to travel abroad and work in a freer landscape, perhaps America, Europe or Australia. She did not want to be restricted to the housewife lifestyle many Japanese women had to endure but at the same time, she did not perceive the work ethics of Japan as particularly attractive either.

She heard footsteps and turned to see who it was. A nonchalant Inuyasha strolled up, his white shirt now bloody but the bleeding of his nose had stopped. "This is nothing," he quickly pronounced, before she could say anything. She just smiled and turned back to the river, the glowing tip of the sun appearing just over the horizon. The indigo sky blended into a strip of tangerine, casting an urban silhouette of the town that stood across. This was always how it was between the two, with physical banter from her part as well. Any injury received usually did not bother him, for he always had had an unusual recovery rate. She still remembered the stunned doctors upon realizing how fast his broken arm had healed as a child. Within a month, he was already playing baseball, pitching and batting as though his arm had never been fractured.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she motioned to the sunrise.

"Keh! You see the same thing every morning!" he retorted.

"Yeah I know," she sighed. "Still manages to take your breath away though, doesn't it?"

He didn't respond.

'Stubborn…' she thought.

They stood in silence for awhile, Inuyasha leaning back against the rails, his hands resting behind his head. Sango continued to watch the sun continue its majestic path to the centre point of the sky. To watch its radiance develop was what made her wake up so early in the morning. The tingling she felt from the warmth of its rays was also worth it. After all, one had to enjoy the little things to truly enjoy life.

Her digital watch suddenly started beeping. She stood up, wishing she could linger a little longer.

"Race ya back, Sango!" Inuyasha teased, taking off, already knowing who would win.

She didn't care; her competitive streak was back. "You're on!" she called, following after him.

The red-faced pair were panting hard by the time they reached her place. It was seven-fifteen now; the trip back was always the more challenging. Part of it was due to the fact that they already had expended a lot of energy during the initial run, but the sun's warm rays had by now begun to permeate the cold of the morning which only compounded the stress to their bodies. 'Stairs…stairs…so many stairs!' the silver-haired youth griped in his mind. He wouldn't give Sango the pleasure knowing he too, was exhausted. They had once used the elevator but the combined stench of their sweat made it unbearable. The air inside had become thick and humid, and he couldn't imagine what it would have been like for the little old lady who stepped on at the fourth floor. It had been awkward enough for them already; they wouldn't try it again.

The number six appeared as they rounded the last flight of stairs and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on, wench," he taunted at the figure one flight below. She glared up at him. He grinned. He knew she hated that word. It was the one thing she couldn't stand. She didn't liken herself to other regular girls and gender-specific insults would only serve to exemplify the difference between the two. And the worst part was that there wasn't a particular word she could think up that could demean men in an equal manner.

"Damn it, Inuyasha, you know I hate that word," she complained, punching him on the arm.

"Ow!" he yelped. A blow from her fist usually meant a bruise would appear; such was the strength of her punch. It wasn't odd for it to remain for the rest of the week, even for Inuyasha.

"You say that again, and you can walk to the station alone!" She hit him one more time for good measure.

"Ok, I got it…" he lied. '…wench,' he finished in his mind. He smirked.

She just sighed, shaking her head at the hopeless silver-haired boy. But it was the same playful arrogance that made him somehow so charming. Life would be dull without his sass. She unlocked the door to her family's apartment.

"'Morning, sis," her brother piped up. He was at the table eating breakfast, eyes fixated on the TV.

"Morning, Kohaku," she responded. 'He's too addicted to that TV…' she griped in her mind like a parent would.

"Sup, Kohaku," Inuyasha greeted, ruffling his hair. He stole a sip from his glass of milk.

"Hey Inuyash- hey! Don't do that!" the youth cried out. "Oh my God, now it has sweat in it…" he stared dejectedly at the now half-filled glass.

"Don't curse," Sango said sternly, taking a slice of buttered toast off his plate.

"A little extra sodium never hurt anyone," Inuyasha winked as he followed Sango to her room.

She opened the door. 'What the…' ran through his mind. He should have been accustomed to the scene already. Mayhem didn't come close to describing what he saw. 'More like a perennial disaster zone…' he mused. Sango's room was, by a long shot, the messiest room he had ever come across. He was incredulous at first to the thought that females were neat; he had never sensed that in Sango's abode. Still, she seemed to make an art of making a mess for each time he visited, the room was in a new tumultuous state of affairs.

"I'm going to shower first," she said, grabbing at some clothes that sat on her bed, before leaving the room.

'Isn't that dirty laundry in her hands?' he thought, alarmed. He decided to act cool. "Okay."

Even his room was never this bad. During exam times perhaps, his room would be strewn with crumpled paper, broken pencils and erasure dust. But he never failed to tidy away his clothes or empty his bin. Here, it seemed as though mess was in a perpetual state of motion; here, mess could come alive. He could come in one day and find her clothes neatly stacked on her desk only to find it spread across the floor of her room the next. It was a dizzying sight, even for the most accustomed to dilapidation.

Amidst the stream of papers that lay on her desk were several framed photos, one of which had the pair as kids and another taken of them together from the year before. He smiled at the first photo, which had her kissing him on the cheek. He had flushed a bright red, desperately trying to look cool, as though he didn't want it. 'I look like such a brat,' he smiled. He was eight at the time. 'Since Sango is about a year younger, she would've been about seven?' he calculated. He never bothered memorising the precise difference between their ages, always rounding the nine or ten months difference up to a year. The other photo had her wrapping her arms around his neck, cheek pressed against his; a sign of affection. The ubiquitous, slanted peace sign he held and the cool smile he presented was all that gave away the joy he felt. They were in Australia at the time, on the beaches of the Gold Coast. Its pristine sands were matched by few in Japan, and the clear waters amazing.

He looked around. There wasn't a handbag to be found. 'Impractical, annoying,' he could hear her voice say, when he asked why she never used one. A worn messenger bag was the closest thing he could find, practical for uni but pretty useless for anything else.

"Hey sis, Inuyasha drank from that," he heard Kohaku warn, as he saw Sango go for the same glass he had drunk from earlier.

"Mmhh," she shrugged, downing the remaining liquid. Kohaku turned away, disgusted as he poured himself another glass.

He smiled. Her personality at home completely contrasted against the façade she presented at uni. On campus, she was extremely dignified, nearly a Goddess of sorts. But at home, she was a complete slob. Even now, he could see she hadn't bothered putting on her jeans, with only the hem of her T-shirt barely covering her panties. The jeans were hung across a shoulder with her towel still draped across her head. 'If only those who hit on her could see her now…' he chuckled. In many ways, she really was just like a boy.

"Shower's free," she announced without looking at him as she dug into a pile of clothes. The hem of her T-shirt came up as she bent over, revealing her curved figure.

"Got it," he stood up quickly, taking his bag along with him. 'Sheesh, she's way too relaxed around me…' he thought. He headed towards the bathroom.

"Ah, Inuyasha!" a voice beamed. "How are you?"

"I'm good thanks, Mr Fukushima," he replied to the Sango's father. His bristly moustache and beard was always a source of amusement for Inuyasha. The corporate style haircut that completed his look seemed a little over the top for a man who ran an insect extermination business. "One day, this business will flourish and I will become an executive," he used to joke. Sadly, it had never really taken off as he had planned, with people preferring to live in more urban locations where many businesses and apartments had long established their own pest control services. The death of his wife did not help either. Rumours had even circulated that his business was laden with debt and he had turned to the yakuza for help. Inuyasha could see no hint of worry from the man though, and given their stable albeit strange life at home he had chosen to dismiss them as exactly what they were - rumours.

"Successfully wooed my daughter yet?" he cackled, nudging him in the ribs. "You know, I couldn't stand that Miroku punk she dated awhile ago."

Inuyasha sighed. He had heard this 'joke' for so long, he could no longer tell if the man was serious or not. 'Damn, he's a tough one to read!'

"Anyway, I need to go now. Come over for dinner sometime!" He donned a cap that had the kanji for taiji-ya written in a styled font.

"Sure thing," Inuyasha replied.

He saw Sango come back out of her room as she went to give her dad a kiss goodbye.

"Put some pants on can't you?" he heard the man complain as Inuyasha entered the bathroom. Her father was well accustomed to his daughter's sloppy habits. "We have a guest here…" Inuyasha shut the door.

"Sister, Mr Fukushima has arrived," a man spoke, his skin adorned with tattoos. The tips of several fingers were missing, a tell-tale sign of his failures and allegiance to the yakuza. This particular family however, was not so conventional. Most notorious for its deception and ruthlessness, it was feared by many other gangs even. They received protection money not only from the territory the clan controlled but by smaller yakuza families who had no desire to wage a war against them. Many a time this particular clan would covertly assassinate the head of smaller, rebellious gangs and continue until either the gang was eliminated or he could 'adopt' the now leaderless men. As such, his power and infamy grew, but it also bred hatred, resentment and most of all, fear, from the remaining yakuza families.

The crimson-eyed woman stared at the old garage, a makeshift headquarters for the exterminator business. Her darkly rouged lips curved into a smirk as she fanned the hiogi in hand. The subordinate trembled at first before relaxing. He had seen her use the fan as a weapon before; eight impossibly thin blades were concealed within the ends of the fan, which she could cast with perfect precision. If there ever was such a thing as a beautiful weapon, this would be it. Her movements with the hiogi epitomised grace, so enchanting it was that it could be considered as art. Her movement was as mesmerizing to watch as it was terrifying to face. She could choose whether she wanted to release one blade at a time or all eight simultaneously, such was her control over the fan.

"Collect the debt this afternoon. If he fails to repay us, take everything and finish him," she said coldly.

"Kagura," a voice said.

She turned. A young boy of fourteen years or so lay on a sofa, reading manga.

"Do not forget that the man has two children. Find them as well. We can use them."

'Tsch, the balls this brat has!' she voiced in her mind. But she had orders to follow, and among those were to listen to this upstart.

"You heard him," she coolly delegated the task to the yakuza who still knelt before her.

He stood up and bowed before leaving. Her eyes were once again fixated on the old garage that stood across the road. Its dilapidated state suggested that business was not going well. Two employees went to greet their boss and inform him of any client orders. 'This is your last chance,' she warned telepathically.

"Sango." It was a girl's voice. It was a voice she knew.

"Sango," the voice came again as she felt herself get shaken.

"Huh, wha-?" a dazed Sango looked up. Students were already standing, packing away notes. Beside her sat a raven-haired girl. 'Kagome…'

"You fell asleep again," the raven-haired girl said worriedly.

"Oh…" she yawned. Her eyes were still heavy. Thursday evenings were always hard to handle. She was always telling herself to take the morning off, postpone her morning jog for another day. But it was one of the few things she did consistently and found the pattern hard to break. The long hours of the day always took their toll on her.

"Hnnngghh!" She stretched her arms, trying to wake herself up. She looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set. "I'm so ready to go home and sleep," she said in between yawns.

"Definitely," her friend replied. She turned to the silver-haired boy who sat beside her, his head resting on his arms. "Hey, wake up, Inuyasha!" she gently nudged him.

"Mmmhh gimme five more…" he mumbled, brushing her off.

Her eyes flashed. The raven-haired girl was not amused. "Get up, Inuyasha!" she said threateningly, grabbing him by the ear.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" he cried out. "I'm up! I'm up!"

Sango smiled. She knew how sensitive his ears were. The nerves had developed closer to the skin while he was in his mother's womb resulting in a highly sensitive weak point. A minor birth defect to be sure but a defect nonetheless. At least, that was how Inuyasha viewed it.

"Oh, Sango," Kagome beckoned. "We have another project due at the end of the semester."

Disappointment came across her face. "Another one?" she sighed.

The two girls studied architecture together at Tokyo University. An assiduous course, they oft found themselves staying up late drawing designs, constructing scale models or writing critiques. Inuyasha on the other hand, merely hung around because he had no class. He studied finance and economics instead, a subject which he was surprisingly good at. Listening to the lecturer drone on about Gaudi served no interest to him; he was just waiting for Kagome.

The trio quickly made their way off campus and into the busy streets of Tokyo. Traffic never seemed to cease at this time and with the large stream of pedestrians on either side of the road, they usually cut through Ueno Park. Various oden stalls had set up for the night, waiting for their regular customers who came to enjoy the view of Shinobazu Pond. Red lights from the stalls mingled with the white glow of streetlamps. The scream of a passing train could be heard against the sound of traffic. Ueno Station lay ahead.

"Aahh, I hope we can get a seat this time," Inuyasha whined. Peak hour meant that commuters were crammed into the trains like sardines in a can. The occasional pervert would also seem to find himself sharing the same carriage as the trio. He had once caught a hand that snaked its way to Kagome's behind. Grabbing the appendage, he almost snapped it off its wrist. The poor sop ran off at the next station hurling abuse at him. He didn't care; the next person would not be so lucky. Sango, who was also unfortunate enough to experience it, was not quite as hesitant as Inuyasha; she snapped two of the man's fingers without hesitation. The death glare she gave earned her a reputation amongst the regular commuters; a small circle almost always appeared around her from those who feared their accidental brushings would result in injury…or worse.

"Not like that's a worry of yours," Sango said enviously. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Keh! I bet you'd be the one who does the molesting!" he scoffed. "Those poor helpless men…" he shook his head mockingly.

Her eyes narrowed. She raised her notebook threateningly. "You just want me to feel you up, right?"

"Tsch, like I'd wanna be felt up by you…" he spat, looking away.

"Aw, c'mon guys!" Kagome intervened. "You know, if you're so worried about us, Inuyasha, we can go on the female-only carriage instead..."

"Which means you'd be alone," Sango finished, smugly. Being a female still had its perks.

"Keh! Whatever you want then!" he pouted.

The last of the orange tinged sky finally disappeared. Street lights had flickered into life moments earlier, as the powerful black Mercedes cruised through the echelon of buildings, its V12 engine humming away. An icy blue light was projected from the xenon headlights, shielding the three-pronged badge from prying eyes. A figure with an aristocratic mien sat silent in the back, his hand curled calmly around the scabbard of a katana. Driving was his loyal servant, a poor soul that suffered severe burns when he was young, resulting in a hideous facial disfiguration. For that reason, he seldom ventured outside without a masquerade. He was grateful to have been taken in under the wing of the young man that sat in the backseat; an influential, nocturnal figure one could say. His foot pressed against the brake pedal for a familiar sea of red lay up ahead. His grip on the soft leather steering wheel tightened.

"What is the meaning of this, Jaken?" a cold voice came from the back, not in question, but requisitioning an answer.

"My apologies, my Lord," he replied with utmost respect. "I shall find another route."

The figure in the back did not respond.

Sweat perspired from the older driver's head. Silence from the young Lord usually meant antipathy and he had no intention of losing this young Lord's favour. Time and time again he felt his days with the Inutaisho family were numbered, yet the young Lord was always gracious, even if he never appeared so. But the driver was not one to count his chickens and hence was always dutiful about his tasks.

A car in the next lane began to move and he began to merge. Another car behind honked. He sounded his in return.

"Do not make a scene," the young Lord commanded. He enjoyed quietude; such was the taste of a man of utmost sophistication. A ruckus on the road was far from the serenity he sought.

"Forgive me, my Lord."

A green light appeared and traffic began to flow again. The Mercedes once again powered its way down the roads, like a black shark patrolling its waters. The seedier elements of Tokyo began to appear as it entered the run down, red light districts. Some homeless people were spread out across the sidewalks, a few sleeping, others huddled together. Yakuza oft frequented this area but it wasn't a concern for the young Lord; this was his territory. But with authority came responsibility; it was his obligation to provide protection for the local business from which he harvested his income. Should a rival clan harass one of the local businesses, he would send in his men to ensure it did not happen again. Yet times have not been so good lately, with more frequent racketeering occurring along the fringes of his territory. He would have to step in this time; he would send a message.

The Mercedes came to a halt by the sidewalk. Several rival yakuza members could be seen hanging around outside a building, awaiting their comrades within. They looked up at the sleek automobile and grinned, admiring its mix of brutality and elegance.

"Jaken," he said.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Wait here."

He stepped out.

The leering gang members suddenly lost interest in the car; they were staring agape at the figure that stepped out. His silver hair flowed freely, contrasting against the deep black of his draping suit. Undertone garnet tattoos ran across the sides of his face like inverted whiskers, adding to the fearsome look. A tattoo of a crescent moon sat on his forehead. He stared at the men calmly, hand on the hilt, but he had no need to draw his katana. They froze; a mere stare already rendered them defeated. Sweat was perspiring from their every pore as they struggled to convince themselves who stood before them. 'Se…Sesshoumaru…!?'

He said one word.

"Leave."

Terrified, they abandoned their fellow gang-members inside, unaware of his presence. They were fortunate. The malicious intent bore straight into their heart, and they knew he would not hesitate to kill. Legends were perpetuated by rival gangs, telling how entire gangs of yakuza had been extirpated by this one man. Conflicts with his subordinates were common, they were not afraid of the small fish. But whenever he came out of hiding, few were fortunate enough to escape with their lives. The ruthless efficiency at which he despatched contending members was rivalled only by the head of the Onigumo clan. He was a supreme killer, one which even the police were too afraid to touch.

Jaken smirked to himself as he saw the poltroon scatter into the alleys. 'Be grateful, you scum.' He watched the graceful figure of Sesshoumaru disappear into the building. He waited. A gunshot came, followed by a series of screams. He saw the young Lord reappear. A flick of the sword; blood sprayed across the footpath. The car door automatically opened. The young Lord stepped in. There was a pause.

"Jaken," he broke the silence.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Have Totosai prepare me another suit. This one has blood on it."

They drove off.

She was running harder than she had ever run before. Reason had given way to panic, her breathing far from controlled. She could hear the footsteps coming from behind, in pursuit. They would not be a problem, she could easily outrun them. A car however, would be another matter altogether and unless she could get far enough away before it caught up…She slowed and cut through a children's playground. A car would not be able to follow her through there, and she knew it would have great difficulty navigating these streets. This meant she only had to lose those on foot.

Her scalp still burned from the way the faceless man had grabbed her ponytail. "We have your brother," he had breathed into her ear, his breath laced with the distinctive smell of cigarettes. Reacting instinctively, she stomped on his foot hard before jabbing her elbow deep into his face. She heard a crack and the man screamed in agony. Others had begun to appear from around the corner. She took off.

'Why would they have my brother?' she thought. She did not get a good look at the man's face. Her elbow had blocked any distinctive details and in the aftermath of the blow, he covered his wound protectively. Blood had poured down from the broken nose. She couldn't think up any reason. She would have to get home first, and calm down. She turned into another road, hoping the disarray of the streets would confuse her pursuers. 'Kohaku, please be alright!' she prayed in her mind.

It seemed all too surreal though; she had only left Inuyasha and Kagome on the train moments earlier. How was it that in a space of less than five minutes, she would suddenly be pursued by a whole group of seemingly dangerous men? But perhaps that was what life was like for many others, remote laser guided bombs could crash through the roof any second while a family was busy preparing dinner…

A man suddenly appeared on the path in front of her. The streetlight above clearly illuminated his vibrantly coloured suit; the tips of demon and ogre tattoos could be seen adorned on his skin. There was no doubt about it; they were the yakuza. "There she is!" he yelled, informing his comrades. She started running again.

'What could the yakuza possibly want with me? What could the yakuza possibly want with my family?'

More and more of the gang-members seemed to appear from every shadow. An office worker was bowled over by the reckless crew. Suddenly, she saw her block of flats. She sprinted towards it. Cries of "Get her!" followed. She reached the silver elevator doors that stood boldly in the light. 'If I can make it in there…' She pressed the 'Up' button madly, repeatedly. The cries were getting closer. She looked up at the display. It read 'Lvl 2'. "Come on, damn it!"

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned to see a fist came towards her, knocking her back against the elevator doors. She pushed against the door to increase her momentum and delivered a knee straight into his gut. The man bent over, winded and her elbow came crashing down on his back. "Hah!" she gave a guttural cry as her elbow made contact. She pushed him away as the elevator doors finally opened. She ran inside. "Close, damn it! Come on, close already!" she cursed, mashing at the 'Close Door' button. The mob drew closer every second. And then finally, the doors shut. She was secure, at least, for now. But she was still trembling. She could not stop the palpitations. 'Kohaku, please be ok…' she prayed in her mind.

She looked up at LED display above the door. 'Level Four…Level Five…Level Six…' The doors opened. She dashed to her apartment door and opened it. The darkness welcomed her in. She slammed the door shut. "Dad! Kohaku!" she cried out, on the verge of tears. But there was no response. There was nobody home.