To be continued disclaimer: I don't own him or the others. Don't sue. End of story.

Sealeena- Okay, I have too many stories building up. This is going to stress me out, but this idea hit me so suddenly and was actually strangling me for it to get out. It was such a different idea for InuYasha, I just had to get it going. Well, I don't know if it's original or not, but I promise to give the angst my stories have!

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Chapter One

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He parked the International outside his new home, a run down house, one story, but his. It was his to rebuild, a place to have of his own, a life to begin. No one here knew him, knew what his past was, the horrible things he had done, the horrible things that happened to him. He shook his head, trying to throw out the violent images that haunted him, even at this very moment, intent on following him for the rest of his life an owing him no peace. But, he knew that he'd have to live with that.

Sighing, he walked to the old trailer that was pulled behind the International, pushing the rolling door up, the metal clattering along the tracks. He looked at the measly array that held his life: an old bed frame, a beat up mattress, a dusty couch, an antique table, four wooden chairs, some blankets (a handmade quilt he was extremely fond of had been able to stay with him), and several other necessities, packed away in boxes. He didn't keep many pictures. The only ones he had were tucked away in his wallet: a smiling family portrait of him, his half brother, his mother, his father, and then one he had of his dearest friends Shippo and Kiara, smiling sweetly at the camera, and a very faded head shot of her, the one who broke his heart and literally almost had killed him.

He closed his eyes for one moment, focusing himself, and then grabbed the first box, abandoning his troubles for the time being.

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She straightened her leather gloves before grabbing hold of twine that held the hay. Bracing herself, she lifted the hay bale, placing it on her thighs so as to rest a moment. Then, grunting audibly, a way that seemed to help amplify her strength, she hefted the hay bale onto the back of the pickup. Her cheeks were flushed and she was sweating, something that would happen to anyone who had been performing the labor she had for the past hour and a half, but when she looked at the back of the pickup, there were only three rows stacked. It wasn't much, but maybe that was because she was tired and a little weaker than men.

But now she had done her chores, and she could go home and take a hot bath, a luxury that she would allow herself after she had done her homework. Then again, looking at her watch and concluding it to be suppertime, she'd probably spend the rest of the night doing homework, doing dishes, read Souta a bedtime story, and clean up her room, only to be stuck with a cold shower in the morning. She wouldn't complain, though, because she was used to it, used to working hard, working hard, and, of course, working hard. She didn't want her mother to worry. She had enough of it already, so she never saw the problem with taking on a small operation by herself. It wasn't a problem, right? She was a young woman and she was responsible. It was perfectly normal that she had to be like this, all work and no play, right? Right?

She shifted the pickup into gear, driving out of the road ditch, and gunning the accelerator. She was only a few miles from home, and she'd be there within a few minutes. She didn't want to unload the bales tonight, and they'd be perfectly fine until after school tomorrow. All she wanted to do right now was relax, just a little while, before she would continue her nightly routines. It was the same, yes, but was regular in her schedule, and she couldn't afford chaos at the moment, not when she was managing a ranch, even if small, mostly by herself.

She stopped the Chevy, put it in park, and then turned it off. For a moment, she stared through the windshield, taking in her home, what had been hers for so long. She placed her forehead against the steering wheel and let out a sob, pounding her fists on the dashboard in frustration.

This was reality, and it sucked.

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He sat on the bridge, his legs hanging over the side of it. The river gurgled softly below him, telling him of its sorrows, but he could only relate to them a little. He couldn't tell the river how to cure its sorrows, couldn't ask the river how to he should care for his own sorrows. But, he came to the river to contemplate, to think of the troubles, but not too deeply as to where it would keep him up the rest of the night. He didn't work that way, was laid back, and being laid back meant that one must not worry.

If only life could be so simple. Alas, it was not, and he was thus cursed and blessed with the conscience bestowed upon a mortal man.

He looked at his right hand, covered in the ornamental glove, decorated with the blue opals. It was the one thing that he had successfully been able to keep from everyone at school: jocks, cheerleaders, preps, and any other piece of dirt who decided that name-calling and ambushes were funny. It was the one thing that followed him everywhere, that horrible event that he wanted to forget always, but of course couldn't. He must always keep it a secret because he was afraid how much more he'd be shunned. He did not want people to be horrified of him.

He couldn't let himself get caught up like this. So, trying to forget the hurt he was feeling, he got up and dusted his Wranglers off before heading to the old feed pickup. He started it up and put it into gear, driving down the dirt road at an increasingly faster pace, until the vehicle bounced along the tracks, threatening to push the driver through the roof if they did not know how to handle themselves on such mundane modes of transportation.

He didn't care, though. Why should he care? He only cared about one thing, his family legacy, the business he'd be running soon. And, he'd do anything and everything to keep it. Nothing, no one, would get in his way or distract him, even if he was a skirt chaser that the girls would swoon at and the boys would beat the living shit out of him for.

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She clapped her hands, a fake smile on her face, just like the other cheerleaders around her. But, she was happy, sort of, because the team was winning by fifteen points in the fourth quarter, and this was terrific, a sign of good luck. This was their first game of the season and they where slaughtering the opposing team, punctuated by another slam dunk, making the crowd go wild, high school kids leaping to their feet, yelling, people cheering so loud, so hard. It was a mass sea of chaos and support. It made people play better and it gave an adrenaline rush that just couldn't be matched.

She kicked her leg high in the air, smashing her pom-poms together underneath her thigh. She shouted, "Go Wildfire!" at the top of her lungs, in unison with the rest of the cheerleading squad. They stole the ball, the crowd went wild again, and she did yet another cheer, another pointless cheer that the people never listened to. They were off in their own world, riveted on the game, performing the wave as a rally, making their own chants: "Defense" Stomp. Stomp. "Defense!" Stomp. Stomp. Or, they'd make a rhyme to a player's name. Either way, their voices were louder, overpowering. It was a deafening roar in the ears, and she realized that's what she got from living in a small town that thought sports was everything.

Yet another basket was scored, fifteen seconds left, and the crowd went wild yet again. Boys were pounding on the drums from jazz band, hooting, hollering, waving drumsticks in the air. Girls, some of them, cheered along, less loudly, but laughing and enjoying themselves immensely, one screaming to her boyfriend on the team that she loved him. Then, with ten seconds left, everyone in the gym on her team's side jumped up and down, yelling "Ooohhhh!" until it was the only thing heard. It was like being caught up in a current that you were drowning in.

The ten seconds ticked off, the buzzer rang, and the home crowd yelled so loudly she wanted to cover her ears. People were hugging each other, ecstatic, the basketball boys laughing and then going to shake hands with the opposing team, a sign of good sportsmanship. She smacked her pom-poms together, no longer smiling, but just walking to the wall so as to stay out of the way of everyone. She looked at the people milling around the gym and sighed.

Why she had become a cheerleader in the first place was one question she wouldn't answer anytime soon.

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"Hurry up, Souta!" she hollered. "Miroku's here! We're going to be late!" She stood at the bottom of the stairs, school bag slung over her shoulder, foot tapping impatiently. She looked to the door to see that her cousin, Miroku, had hopped out of his pick up and was heading for her house, walking along at a leisurely pace with his hands in his pockets, the beads on his ornamental glove clinking together in time with his swaying. She sighed in frustration. "Souta! Come on!" She emphasized the last word with a stomp.

"I'm coming already!" Souta, her little brother, slid down the banister of the stairway. He hopped off at the end with a flourish. He held his hands up high and Miroku entered just in time to give the young boy a small round of applause. "Hey Miroku! How's Sweet Pea?"

"He's fine," he replied. "I just put him in the coral yesterday. You can come with me and we'll start getting him halter broke. It shouldn't be too hard for all the attention you've been giving him. I have a feeling he'll let you right into the saddle." He tousled the younger boy's hair affectionately.

"Yes!" Souta pumped a fist in the air. He turned to Kagome. "Is that all right sis?"

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. Why not?"

"Awesome!" Souta ran out of the house, leaving his sister and his cousin behind.

Miroku turned to his cousin at first with a smile, but then he looked at her and his face began to show worry. She looked up at him, smiling a little, but her smile soon faltered under his gaze. She turned her head and rubbed her arms, uncomfortable. He frowned slightly and grabbed a hold of one wrist, not hard, but enough to make her look back at him.

"Is everything all right, Kagome?" he asked. "You seem…different lately." His deep blue eyes showed concern for his beloved cousin and he softly stroked her face.

She shook her head. "I'm not acting different. It's nothing. I just, I've just been a little tired lately. The bailing twine broke on about half the square bales last night and I only let them sit out for a week. I don't know the first thing about farming and Mom just went to a conference in Minnesota last night. I'm screwed. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing anymore. I hate tractors."

They walked towards the door. Souta was sitting in the pickup, bouncing around on the seat in the back, with some J-rock band playing, probably B'z or wait…it was actually L'arcenCiel. Miroku dabbled in almost every kind of music there was, including internationally. The song was an upbeat pace, but Souta decided that wasn't good enough for him and began banging his head in an offbeat time to the music. The effect it produced to an observer was quite comical and Kagome and Miroku chuckled.

Miroku slung his arm over Kagome's shoulder as they approached his vehicle and vigorously rubbed his fist into her hair, instantly making it wild and curly. She opened the passenger door and slid in, while Miroku took his place behind the driver's wheel. He gunned the engine, stepped on the clutch, put it in gear, and they peeled out of the driveway, dirt flying up from the back tires. Souta let out a whoop of joy and immediately went back to head banging, Kagome rolled her eyes, and Miroku gave one of his trademark dazzling grins.

"Ready for another day of torture?" he asked.

"Only if I get to whip the miserable little sons-of-a-bitches," she replied with a big smirk.

Miroku let out a chuckle. "You kinky little girl. I always knew there was something I liked about you."

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He stared at his new locker, his backpack resting at his feet. High school kids stared at him, whispered about him. The hallway was probably unusually quiet, even for a small school with only three hundred kids. He wanted to turn to all of them at shout at them, scream for them to stop staring, to stop gossiping and spreading rumors about him already. God damn bunch of little assholes…They thought they were better than him.

"I should go back to bed he muttered," and began to load the locker with a few notebooks and the textbooks the school had given him. He shoved his backpack into the locker with a ferocious force and slammed the door shut. People in the hallway turned to him with odd looks on their faces. He gave a sneer. "What?"

"Why do I have the feeling you don't know the inner mind of a small town located in the middle of nowhere?" A girl asked. He whirled to see that someone accompanied her.

"Don't worry though. I've been here over half my life and I still don't fit in," the boy next to her mentioned.

He realized that the guy and the girl, both very good looking, were obviously related in some way. The girl casually smiled as she shoved her shoulder bag in her locker located next to the one he had just slammed shut and the guy tightened a strange ornamental glove that was on his right hand unconsciously, as if it were a habit.

The girl smiled. "Hi. I'm Kagome Michaels."

"Miroku Michaels."

"Are you brother and sister?" he asked.

Kagome shook her head. "No. We're first cousins, but I guess we're pretty close to being siblings." She stared at him a moment and him at her. She had black, wavy hair, hanging down to the small of her back, making it seem like a dark waterfall in motion. Her grey eyes and pale skin were a stark contrast to what the people up north here looked like with their farmer's tan and rough body builds. A small t-shirt, proudly proclaiming: "Don't give me attitude. I have my own" adorned her. It seemed so befitting for someone like her. She seemed to be daring someone, anyone to piss her off. A pair of worn hip-huggers hinted at her curves and some old boots showed that she wasn't exactly caring or up-to-date with style. He could tell instantly that she was a rancher, just like the others, with a different outlook on life and view of work ethics. "I guess you're the new guy." She was gorgeous, but she gave him a feeling like

This guy was different, very different. He had waist long, jet black hair, a darker complexion, one accomplished from staying outside, a lean, muscular frame, and the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. It held two, large, violet/grey eyes, which were slightly furrowed at the moment. He wore tight black pants with black buckle boots, and a large black t-shirt that simply read "Bite me" in the back with small, white letters on it. She nearly swooned, but held her ground, remembering that Miroku was standing next to her and would most likely have a smart-ass comment. Plus, he'd never let her hear the end of it and would then try to harass the poor boy.

InuYasha turned to Miroku and studied him as well, but not as hard as he had Kagome. The guy was tall, about his height, also a rancher of some kind, the attitude much like Kagome's, but a little more reserved. He had black hair like Kagome's, a small ponytail sticking out in the back, two earrings on one ear, one on the other. He wore a black shirt…and western jeans with some old black and blue cowboy boots. The most unusual thing about him, though, was the glove that he wore on his right hand. A string of blue opals decorated it. There must have been an interesting story behind that.

"What's your name?" Kagome asked.

He turned back to her and was greeted with another casual smile. "InuYasha Kalligan." She gave a look that said she was confused about his nationality. He explained, "My father was Japanese, any my mother wanted to have a name that honored my father." He gave a small snort. "I guess it doesn't really matter. It's just a name."

The two looked each other in the eye: grey to violet, calm to violent. And in that instant, more passed through them then anything words could have done. A spark was started, but soon enough…it might have turned into a flame.

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End Chapter

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Author's Notes: Hey there everybody! I guess I don't have much to say except I hope that everyone reviews! I know that this isn't a very climatic opening, but I promise there'll be tension and lots of drama to go around. So, reviews for me, pretty please? Anyways, I know this story is different, but I'll try to stick with the characters' personality as close as possible, but this is an AU, so try to keep that in mind. Well, I guess I should go. I hope everyone keeps an eye on this story. I'd like to know if it's worth keeping or not.