Streets of London
I wrote this ages ago and thought that I could try it out since I can't find another that's really similar. I haven't fully planned it out yet, so this is kind of a trail… if you want me to continue say. (Review please!)
Summary: (AU) Street kids. They're always there. They probably always will be. And they're useless. Not worth thinking about. Lazy, stupid losers. At least that is what Kagome Higurashi has always been taught. But then she got that project … there's always two sides to one story…
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own neither Streets of London nor Inuyasha. If I owned either of the things that I write about… maybe I could live in Spain… hot… sunny… Spain. (drifts into dreamland.)
Oh, yeah. Some words in the song may change slightly… as not all of it would make sense otherwise.
Prologue
Have you seen the street kid?
In the closed down market?
Kicking up the papers,
With his worn out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride,
Hand held loosely by his side.
Yesterday's papers.
Telling yesterday's news.
Miroku wandered around the empty stalls. The square was deserted as it had been for years. Here and there the rough wind blew papers and rubbish up in the air. Old papers, old news. Just like him.
He was quite tall for a seventeen year old, with brown eyes and a roguish smile that lit up a face that was too weary and too thin. If he smiled. His messy black hair was tied tight at the back with an old bobble, and he wore loose black and blue rags.
Miroku was a street kid, a dosser. He had nothing. Nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. Nothing to smile contentedly about. Orphaned at twelve, the streets were his home.
He made the best of it, cheering others up when they were down. He often tried to get a job. No one cared. No one wanted someone who had nothing.
The harsh biting wind blew his long ragged coat around. He shivered. Winter was upon London, and the people were inside their nice warm houses, with their nice friendly families. Hell, he would give anything to be there. After his parents had died, Mushin had taken him in. Vicious old drunkard that he was, he had taught Miroku everything he knew. Pity, really, what had happened. Miroku still missed his old master.
There were still takings to find in the old market. It was Miroku's home, his place of sanctuary. People threw junk and rubbish here. Miroku didn't care. What was junk to them was salvation to him. Take that torch. He'd found it, sold it and had enough money to buy some food. His stomach growled at the thought of that. Food.
The Londoners had it in abundance. The street kids did not.
He fingered the loose change in his pocket. Yes. Enough for some food, maybe a cake. Anything but the pain of hunger. Now, where to go? Somewhere cheap, that was for certain…
So how can you tell me,
You're lonely?
And say for you
That the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
And lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something,
That'll make you change your mind.
Have you seen the young girl?
Who walks the streets of London?
Dirt in her hair,
And her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking,
She just keeps on walking,
Carrying her home,
In two carrier bags.
A lot can change in a year.
Sango brushed her dark hair out of her haunted eyes with one hand as she hurried down the street to get out of the weather. Raggedy beggar girl she looked, she had once been something so much more than that.
Her family, her friends. She could picture them in her head. Her mother, so pretty and sweet natured, and her father, the backbone of the family. Her brother, Kohaku, teasing her on the way to school…
It seemed so near and yet so far….
The wintry weather was taking hold of London, and Sango shivered as the skies started to open. She hurried along faster, praying that she would find somewhere to shelter.
The street was dingy and damp. An alley rather than a street, really. The doorways were dank and smelly, like last weeks rubbish. Empty bins loomed here and there in the gloom. Sango hastily placed her bag in one to keep it dry. Litter rolled around, tortured by the large splashing drops of liquid that steadily soaked the floor. From within her old dirty jacket came a soft meow.
"Hush, Kirara," Sango murmured to her youkai cat. Humans and youkai were both accepted in the society of London, though many had their prejudices… the youkai thought that the humans were weak and pathetic, while the humans considered the "demons" to be vicious killing machines. Stereotypes.
Sango's father and mother, heck, her whole family had worked with youkai, and she understood better than most how misunderstood youkai were.
The windows of the alley were dark and daunting, like doorways to eternity waiting to suck her up. There was nowhere to shelter. Drenched, she hurried on.
Everyone who could was inside, sheltering, and Sango could see the lights behind the locked windows. A different world was out there and thanks to fate, she could never be part of it.
The streets were empty and she hurried on, alone. Some cars roared past, spraying up the filthy water from the steadily flooding roadside. Not that she could get any wetter…
A year ago Sango had been your average London school girl, getting good marks and grades. She had decent GCSE's and was looking forward to a good life. Then, in one night, everything changed. Her family, gone, her friends not there for her. Suddenly she was on her own.
Yes, a lot can change in a year.
So how can you tell me,
You're lonely?
And say for you
That the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something,
That'll make you change your mind.
(A.N. I apologise for the awful word changes. But I can't imagine Miroku drinking tea. (And if you have no idea what I am talking about… well, praise be above for salvation!))
In the all night café
At a quarter past eleven.
Same scruffy kid,
Sitting there on his own.
Looking at the world
Through the steam of his hot coffee
Each minute seems an hour
As he watches there alone.
It was raining.
It lashed against the windows and beat against the door. The street was dark and foreboding, turned into a battlefield of water and mud rather than a walkway. The small, dingy café was cold, but at least it was dry.
The chairs were crammed against small, off-white tables, and the only customer was a teenager with hair tied into a scraggly ponytail at the back of his head.
Miroku looked gratefully at his coffee. Thank the lord above for caffeine! He still had some money left… but that should be saved for another time. He slowly sipped the drink, savouring the hot liquid as it warmed him, warm as he had not been for months. Money was hard to come by this time of year. People were saving up for Christmas.
The shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen, probably tucked somewhere in one of the other rooms, snoozing in the warmth of a radiator. The street was deserted, as no sane person would be out in this weather.
Miroku gazed absently out of the window, taking in the pouring rain as it hammered past the small, dim streetlights, splashing into the puddles, lashing at the girl who was shivering outside the window, beating at the window… wait… a girl?
'Caffeine's finally hit me,' he thought. He looked again.
Yes, she was there, black hair in a ponytail that dripped down her neck and dressed as raggedly as him. She was holding a wet bundle in the filthy jacket she wore. She also looked wet herself.
Disregarding the coffee, he stood up and strolled over to the door, casually looking backwards to confirm that the shopkeeper was nowhere in sight. Then he walked out into the weather.
"Excuse me, fair lady." She looked up, startled. The bundle in her arms was revealed to be a very wet and soggy cat.
"What… what do you want?" She backed off fearfully.
"To ask you one question, my lady." She paused, looking at him.
"Would you bear my child!" he smiled.
The girl looked first surprised, but then that quickly changed into indignation.
"Hentai!" she slapped him. He staggered, dazed.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Miroku, and to which beauty do I have the pleasure of meeting?" He shook his head to clear it.
That was a good start, he thought sarcastically.
The girl looked suspiciously at him. "Sango." She finally said.
"Well then, my dear Sango, come with me inside and you can have a hot drink to apologise for my rude greeting."
Sango appeared to blush. "I would love that," she said, eyes glowing. "But I have no money – I live on the streets, you see."
"So do I fair lady, and the drink's on me." He walked inside. She followed.
"The profiteer of this wonderful café is at present indisposed, so I will be serving," he continued, as the bedraggled girl walked in, leaving a trail of puddles behind her.
"Would you like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?"
Sango gaped at him. "H…hot ch..chocolate?" she shivered. "y…yes please. " Miroku smiled.
"And as I make it you can tell me the tragic tale about how a fair princess such as yourself came to live on the streets like me, a lowly life form."
Sango's lip trembled. Miroku finished pouring the hot drink and gently pressed it into her freezing hands.
"We all have our sob stories," he whispered, dark eyes close to her. "And you can keep quiet. But you won't be alone any more."
So how can you tell me,
You're lonely?
And say for you
That the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something,
That'll make you change your mind.
Have you seen the hanyou,
Looking out across the river?
Thinking of a someone,
But there's no body there.
In our winter city,
The rain cries a little pity,
For a lost and lonely orphan,
And a world that doesn't care.
The boy with the silver hair looked up at the weather.
Damn it all, its gonna rain.
He twitched his sensitive nose and wrapped his arms around his baggy red clothes, which might have once been decent but were now battered and worn.
"Shit" he muttered, as the first few drops fell onto his small, dog-like ears. "I hate rain."
The Thames was becoming stormy and choppy, the way he liked it. The waters swirling, churning, mesmerising, the never-ceasing voice of the river talking, singing.
The river was his home, he had grown up around it. Humans may accept youkai, and humans may be accepted by youkai. Neither, however, tolerated Hanyous. Thus Inuyasha, son of a youkai lord, was outcast.
He hurried along the footpath, seeking shelter. The rain was getting heavier now, and he felt uneasy. Rain could hide many dangers…
He started to run, faster and faster, until he was a blur, then a breath of wind. He couldn't keep it up for long, he knew, as he had not touched food for three days. But he could get out of the rain…
WHAM!
Failing to see where he was going, he collided with a girl of around his own age dressed in a long jacket, carrying a youkai cat. She looked pretty wet, and shrank back when she saw him.
"Sorry." She said. He picked himself up out of the puddle.
"Feh." He shook himself, then walked on. No point hurrying now, he couldn't get any wetter.
Inuyasha had grown up on the streets; never knowing a house or a family, he really didn't know what he was missing. For him hunger was normal; something to be put up with, nothing to moan about. Hell, he didn't exactly have anyone to moan to. School? That was just a word. Inuyasha could barely read and write. Oh, friends?
Who'd want to be friends with a hanyou ?
Inuyasha didn't want pity. A rough, streetwise teenager who knew nothing else, he asked for nothing and gave nothing in return.
The rain continued to fall, and, in despair, Inuyasha settled himself in a small, close, alley, and tried to get to sleep, ignoring the rain and the harsh, biting wind.
His situation could not be worse. And in a strange way, he was grateful.
For what do you take from the boy who has nothing?
So how can you tell me,
That you're lonely?
And say for you
That the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
And lead you through the streets of London.
I'll show you something,
That'll make you change your mind.
(Winces at word changes below)
Now for the rich girl,
Who knows no want or need,
Has a kind loving family,
And asks for nothing more.
To her the world is perfect,
Well that's what you'd expect,
From someone who has everything,
And knows nothing else.
Kagome Higurashi had it all. Her grandfather, a wealthy (though slightly batty) businessman, and her mother, the well paid manager of a hair salon. She was smart, she was pretty, she was kind. The perfect girl. And best of all, she didn't realise it.
"Mum, I'm off!" She yelled up the many flights of stairs to her mother.
"Waaaiiiit foooor meeeeee!" He younger brother Souta came running down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Hey, how come I have to go to school with you, squirt?" she asked playfully.
Souta looked at her with the famous puppy-dog eyes. "Cos mum said."
"Come on then."
"Yeah!"
The two siblings set off down the road. The gardens along here were well kept and neatly trimmed, the pavements perfectly level. The rain from last night had left puddles, and brother and sister each tried to splash the other without getting wet.
"Gotcha!" Kagome looked down mournfully at her legs. She was wearing the normal school uniform, green pleated skirt and a white (styled) blouse with the green school tie. All of these were dry. Her shoes, socks, and long legs, however, were completely and utterly soaked.
"Souta! Come here now!" She yelled at her younger brother as he sped out of sight, nearly running over an old woman walking across the road.
"Come and get me!" was his fading reply. Kagome immediately gave chase, again running into the old woman.
"Sorry!" she yelled over her shoulder as her normally cool-tempered neighbour shook her head.
Kagome's friends in school, Eri, Yuka and Ayumi were thrilled to see her.
"Hey, Kagome, whatcha do over the weekend then?" Eri asked her
Kagome shrugged. "Dad got me a new bike – its pink."
Eri, Yuka and Ayumi exchanged looks. All three had dark hair, and wore the school uniform in much the same way as Kagome. However, something always seemed to separate the one from the three. She was always just a little more serene, just a little bit cleverer. However, since Kagome really didn't seem to notice, the others didn't mind.
"A new bike?" asked Yuka her eyes widening to the size of melons. "Just like that? How much was it?"
Kagome sighed. It always came down to price with these three. "I don't know," she lied. She knew perfectly well that the bike had cost about £400, but if she said anything, the others would either say a) "That's really expensive Kagome, mine was only £200. Don't you have a value of money?" or B) "With your money you could afford a better bike." Either way she decided to keep her mouth shut.
"Come on, the bell is going to go soon," she quickly looked at her watch to change the subject.
"No it's not, it's only…." Ayumi's voice trailed off as…
"Hi Higurashi!" Hojo, the one dubbed 'best-looking-and-most-popular-boy-in-the-entire-of-the-school-for-those-kind-of-people' had come to say his morning greetings to Kagome. Phew!
Hojo was really what a girl should want. Tall, but not too much, slim, but not weedy, with short brown hair and eyes to die for. Yet, despite his efforts, Kagome still refused him. No matter what her friends said, she didn't feel that they were right for one another.
"Hello Hojo," she smiled warmly. "Good weekend?"
"Yes, I'd say so. Hey, Kagome, are you doing anything tomorrow night?"
"I'm sorry, Hojo, but my parents are out and I have to baby-sit my younger brother." She turned a mask of regret on him. He sighed.
"See you later, Higurashi." He left.
Kagome walked to class with her friends ranting all the way there.
OK – please tell me if you love or hate… Please?
CN.