Author Notes:

Thank you so much for reading my story! Magnolias in the Snow is a story I started working on in high school and never finished. I recently found it and after a rewatch of the series, was inspired to overhaul some not-so-great writing and fix a lot of plot holes and mistakes that I noticed. And, not to mention, get rid of a terribly Mary Sue OC.

Emma is a semi self insert, in which I wrote her as an American Southerner, but otherwise we couldn't be more different.

I love reviews, they're incredibly encouraging, so if you like the story, please tell me!

And, of course, I do not own Inuyasha and his friends.

—-

So this was Japan.

A round, tanned face looked around the terminal, her bright green eyes shining. Emma had waited a long time, going through all types of tests, trials, and 2 years worth of language classes. As she gazed out the airport and at the sweeping view of Tokyo, she decided it was worth it.

Brushing her silky auburn hair out of her face, she looked at the photo of her host family. It was a nice family picture, with a kind-looking mother in a flower-print dress, a wacky grandfather in old-fashioned Japanese clothing, a cute 10-year old boy in a t-shirt and jeans, and a girl about her age in a clean-cut school uniform. She turned the picture around, looking at the name on the back. Giving herself a mental note on the name, she walked through the crowded building to the baggage claim.

As she looked around the shining silver carousels surrounded by people, she finally saw a friendly looking family similar to the picture holding a sign. Here we go.

She swallowed hard, braced her shaky courage, habitually pushed her hair behind her ear again, and then jogged towards the family, her knit carry-on bouncing behind her. When she approached them, she bowed stiffly but politely to the mother and grandfather, addressing them with a simple, "Hajimemashite, Higurashi-sama".

There was an awkward silence, but Mrs. Higurashi grinned empathetically and shook Emma's hand. Her hands were soft and warm, and the sentiment echoed in her voice. "It's nice to have you, Miss Jones," she gushed. "Meet my father, whom you may call Grandfather, my son, Souta, and my daughter, Kagome. I believe she is your age?"

Kagome chuckled at the American's baffled look and explained, "Here in Japan, it is necessary to know fluent English as it is used in our schools and for business." She reached for Emma's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "It's nice to meet you."

Emma thought that Kagome looked oddly mature for a fifteen-year-old. There was something in the way she held herself, some tinge the girl's dark eyes that said that she had been through the wringer emotionally. She caught herself gazing into them for a moment when she realized that she had never replied to the niceties extended.

"Oh, thank goodness," she confessed, her ears burning, "I'd like to speak Japanese full-time, but I know I'm still learning."

Kagome beamed and hooked her arm in Emma's, her brown eyes sparkling in excitement. "I'm sure you'll learn quickly," she enthused, her long strides quickening to match the exchange student's short ones. "Aren't you excited for school tomorrow? Everyone is thrilled to meet you!"

Emma was about to answer, flustered, when all of the sudden there was a large CLUNK behind her.

As she turned around, she tried to stifle a laugh when she saw poor Souta struggling under the weight of her overstuffed duffel bag. She strode over quickly to help the poor kid, picked up the bag and easily placed it on her shoulder. Then, chuckling all the while, she offered him a hand.

When the young boy saw Emma lift the bag, his eyes went wide and he smiled. "Wow, you're strong!" he marveled. "Almost as strong as Inuyasha!"

She smiled quizzically and helped Souta up from the tile, dusting him off for good measure. With an amused chuckle, she slapped his shoulder gently and said, "Well, one day you'll be just as strong as me, Souta, if not stronger."

Inuyasha, huh. Dog…whatever. Weird name.

She looked to Kagome for clarification, but found only a deep pink blush decorating the girl's cheeks.

Guess it's a boyfriend or something.

Mrs. Higurashi laughed quietly and affectionately ruffled her son's hair. "C'mon, macho," she teased. "Let's get going."

Emma shifted the bag on her shoulder and smiled, her heart feeling like it would fly out her chest. Between sweet Mrs. Higurashi, silly Souta, and the promise of a close friend, she had a feeling she was going to love Tokyo.

—-

The gentle scent of tobacco and gasoline mingled in the old Ford, but Emma didn't care. Her feet swung from the worn leather bench, still yet too short to touch the floor. The silver heart necklace she'd worn since birth bounced against her chest as the drove down the bumpy wooded backroads of Carriere, Mississippi.

Her small hand grasped a fistful of slightly wilted yellow wildflowers that she and her dad had picked in a field on the side of the road. She had cut that same hand on a piece of barbed wire while picking the flowers, but it was now gone, a faint white scar in its place.

Dad was in the driver's seat, his arm hanging lazily out of the window. He was just like she remembered him best- a long, tan face and dark brown eyes with little wrinkles around them from squinting into the sun. He wore a worn out baseball cap with what used to be a yellow tiger on the front, but was now dirty and torn beyond recognition. She had never seen him without that hat, even near the end.

"What'll you tell 'er today, cherie?" he drawled in his soft Cajun accent. "Maybe 'bout bein' a snowman in the Christmas play?"

She giggled. "Daddy, I ain't never seen snow. How'm I gonna know how to be a proper snowman?"

A smile danced around his lips. "You'll find a way."

The Ford pulled into a modest graveyard surrounded by an ancient wrought iron fence, and they quietly exited the truck. He grabbed her free hand, the rough callouses scraping gently against her small, soft fingers.

They trudged silently along the path surrounded by gravestones, listening to the birds overhead. He pointed to a bright red bird perched on top of a dirty granite mausoleum. "Cher, what's that bird?"

"A cardinal!" she squeaked excitedly, waving the wilted flowers.

"Very good. What about that one?" He pointed to a gray and black bird with a long tail.

"That's a mockin'bird."

They continued on with this game until they reached what they were looking for, a small marble headstone surrounded by dead flowers, trinkets, and rain-stained Mardi Gras stuffed animal offerings.

Bonita Jones, wife and mother.

Emma reverently placed her flowers by the others before settling cross-legged on the worn patch in front of it.

"Hi, Mama," she mumbled, fumbling for the words.

"Speak up, cher," her dad reminded her gently, standing a few feet back. There was a strange wetness in his eyes that threatened to fall. "It's a long way to heaven."

BEEEP. BEEEP. BEEEP. BEEEP. BEEEP.

Emma awoke, startled, and blinked hard, her vision blurry.

Daddy? Mama?

Someone was speaking Japanese in her ear; techno pop was swimming around in her head.

What am I doing here? Where am I?

Emma blinked again, her vision and her mind becoming clearer at each moment, taking her farther and farther away from the graveyard.

I'm in Tokyo. I'm in Japan

She laid on her futon for a few more luscious moments, soaking in just that fact. She strained her ears hoping to hear the bustle of the city outside, but heard only the leaves rustling in the large tree that lived on temple grounds.

The dream faded from her mind slowly and she let it slip away, relishing the blurry face of her father as long as she could. Instinctively, she reached for her silver necklace and held it tightly until it felt warm in her hand.

I'll make you proud, she swore. Mom, too.

Finally the could wait no longer, excitement tingling in her fingers and toes. She jumped out of the covers and hit the alarm. She wrinkled her nose in the mirror and stared for a moment. Her hair was wild and there were slight purple marks under her eyes from jet lag, but it would have to do. She brushed out her hair as best as she could and swiped on some lip balm, hoping for the best.

Her uniform had been folded placed neatly on the edge of her bed, laid out with her sneakers at the base of it, a gentle sign of Mrs. Higurashi's hospitality. Emma smiled warmly as she picked up the clean, crisp white shirt and carefully slid it over her head. She then zipped up the short green skirt, thankful for the bike shorts she had thought to bring from home.

She turned to the mirror once again and looked herself over, unnecessarily smoothing out everything self-consciously. I guess this is as good as it's going to get.

In the hallway, she met Kagome, who gave her a mischievous grin and a quick look over.

Slightly alarmed, Emma addressed her in mediocre Japanese. "How do I look?"

"You look great!" she gushed. Excitedly, she took her friend by the wrists and gave her a little twirl. "Wait until the boys at school see you! They'll be all over you, with that hair of yours."

Emma self-consciously patted her hair that she had unsuccessfully tried to tame this morning. "You really think so?"

"I know so!"

Slightly reassured, she followed Kagome through the narrow hallway and into the kitchen, where a wonderful aroma met her nose. Just that smell alone could wake her up. Sufficiently perked up and beaming, she walked over to the table and sat down on the floor next to Souta.

"Morning, Mrs. Higurashi!" she chirped.

"Good morning, dear," she said, dishing out a simple bowl of rice with egg. "I see that you found the uniform I pressed for you this morning!"

"Yes, ma'am! You didn't have to do that, I really appreciate it."

Mrs. Higurashi smiled kindly, serving a bowl to Kagome, who tucked in with an appetite. "Nonsense! You're in the family now. And, please, call me Mom, like Souta and Kagome do."

Honored and a bit flustered, she blushed as she picked up her chopsticks. "Yes, Mrs…, I mean, Mom."

After fumbling with the chopsticks a bit, she finally got the hang of it and the bowl of rice was quickly devoured. She drank a quick sip of water and stood up, brushing off her skirt. Nodding to Kagome, who was also finished, she nodded her head respectfully to Kagome's grandfather. Kagome did the same as they grabbed their backpacks and began to walk out of the door in a hurry.

"Wait, girls!" called Mrs. Higurashi. "You forgot your lunches!"

"Sorry, Mom!"

When they returned, Mrs. Higurashi kissed them both on the cheek and handed them their lunches. "Have a good first day, dear," she said encouragingly, "Ganbatte!"

As Emma walked out the door, Grandfather said something to the mother, thinking the girls were out of earshot.

"Hmph!" he harrumphed, "Kagome should be fighting with Inuyasha in the feudal era, not gallivanting off at that high school of hers!"

There's that Inuyasha dude again, she mused. I'll have to ask Kagome about him.

As she stepped out into the busy streets of the city, she considered her new friend. I wonder why he hasn't come around. Is she hiding something?"

Kagome looked back when she noticed she was walking alone and saw her friend a few feet behind, absentmindedly standing on the sidewalk."C'mon, silly," she laughed, "Or we'll be late for school!"

Emma blushed and jogged a bit to catch up. "Sorry!" she apologized with an awkward chuckle. "Had a few things on my mind."

"Are you worried about today?"

"Yeah," she confessed, fidgeting with her necklace. "I've heard tell of how difficult Japanese schools can be, and with me speaking a new language…"

Kagome looped her arm in Emma's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry," she advised. "I'll make sure everyone's nice to you, and I'm sure Eri, Yuka, and Ayumi wouldn't mind helping you out, too."

"Okay, if they don't mind…"

The schoolgirl glanced away from her friend's troubled face and waved as they approached a milling crowd of Japanese teenagers, all wanting to see the new American exchange student. She put a hand comfortingly on Emma's shoulder, guiding her through the crowd. "You'll be fine!" she said. "Look, everyone wants to meet you!"

Emma blushed as she was approached by enthusiastic girls admiring her hair, all talking to her in such rapid Japanese that she could barely understand them. Before she knew it, she was standing at the doors to the school, being pushed inwards by the hustle and bustle

I sure hope you're right