The Messenger
Chapter One
By: Rachynn

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

The reaction.

That was the part of the job that she hated.

Although, over the years she had perfected the art of predicting what sort reaction the subject would give her when she told them her news.

It would be one of two kinds: immediate, or delayed.

The immediate reaction was the least harmful. The subject in question would immediately show some kind of emotion, most commonly grief, but there was that occasional appearance of anger or, more rarely, joy. When the subject reacted immediately, you knew that they would be all right in the long run. They would be affected, most definitely, but ultimately it would cause no harm to the subject itself or any bystanders. The close friends, the parents and the honest subjects almost ALWAYS had an immediate reaction.

The delayed reaction was slightly trickier. It could take minutes, hours, days, sometimes even years for her news to sink in. When it did, then the heads began to roll. Those that experienced a delayed reaction would go about in a trance-like state, trying to convince them and everyone around them that everything was fine; life would go on, they could hold it together. Unfortunately that was not the case. Eventually, the subject would break down in some way. When the reality of the situation sunk in, the subject would react in an often unpredictable way. It was the lovers, the children or the guilty ones who were most likely to suffer a delayed reaction.

Luckily, with the delayed reaction, she rarely had to stick around long enough to deal with the effects.

The second part of the reaction would be how the subject saw HER after she had delivered the news.

It was a given, none of the subjects liked her. How could they after what she had to tell them? Sometimes, they would give her creepy looks that sent ice running through her veins. Sometimes, they would quietly ask her to leave. More often then not, they would shout at her, try and throw things at her, and deny her claim.

It was the having stuff thrown at you and the spitting and the hurtful words that she hated the most. It got quite tiresome after a while.

Tonight's subject was female. She was tall, but not abnormally so. Her long, dark hair hung loosely over her shoulders and tumbled down her back. Dark brown eyes sparkled in the star light. Her figure was slender, showing that the subject took care to stay in shape. Her clothes were plain, a simple pink summer dress with a floral pattern. She had kids, though they had long since been put to bed. She was sitting on a bench just outside the front door, waiting for her husband to return from work.

It was a shame that he would never again return home.

The subject was quite shocked when she noticed the Messenger standing in front of her on the lawn. She gasped, her grip tightening on the wooden slats of the bench.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I'm a ...messenger of sorts." The standing woman said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The subject's eyes narrowed. "Bad news?" she said cautiously.

"Yes. Your husband, Miroku Kisumori, died tonight."

No immediate reaction. By the laws laid down by the Powers that Be, the Messenger was required to stay with the subject until some sort of response was given. She was required to stay here until the subject acknowledged that she got the message.

"How?" came the eventual response. The Messenger resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was having a delayed reaction. She'd have to explain what happened to the subject's husband. She hated that part too, though she couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the girl. She looked young.

"It was a car accident. He was driving through an intersection and someone ran a red light. It was unavoidable."

"I'm sorry for your loss." She began to leave. The best thing about delayed reactions were that they never thought to throw something at you. That was nice.

"Who are you? Why are you saying such dreadful things?" the woman asked quietly. She had a right to know, the Messenger thought. She couldn't imagine what this must be like for the subject, a random stranger appearing in your yard and telling you that you were now a widow.

In the final moments before her departure, the Messenger gave her identity and occupation. It wasn't forbidden. "It's my job to notify the deceased's most cherished family member of their death. Though it is highly unlikely that we will see each other again, you may call me Kikyo."

In the house, the phone began to ring, and Kikyo disappeared.

A/N: Oh wow. Another Fic! This is a really short chapter... (Since this is a single chapter, this fic NOT a oneshot!) Well, you know what to do... Read and Review. (Please)