Thank you so much, you guys who reviewed – Jamie, Firyfeline and DR! I really appreciate it! (And I looked 'realise' up – it's definitely an 's' in my English dictionary! I really appreciated the point though.) (And thanks everyone who reviewed Magpies too!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Zilch!
Let's go! Chappie one! Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to Firyfeline for being a great writer and an awesome reader!
"…" speech
Italics: thoughts or quotes
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Change of scene/time
Chapter 1
Project
Kagome looked around at her English class. Well, it could be a lot worse, She was sitting by her friends, in a corner of the yellow room. The teacher was taking the register, Mrs. Kaede she was called. She was quite old, but well liked by all the students.
The morning had gone well, what with science, then social studies (to "help" relationships between humans and youkai. Actually, it basically alienated a lot of the students.), then (horror) history. English was the last lesson before lunch. Kagome's stomach was moaning at her. She ignored it.
"This week we will be looking at a part of society most of you probably don't know anything about." The old lady looked around the room. She only had one eye; rumour was that she had lost it in a fight when she was younger. She had come to the school a year ago, with the eye missing and gossip in her wake.
"Youkai?" guessed a girl with short blonde hair. "Could we visit their school?" she added excitedly. The different species had different schools to avoid fights and discrimination.
"No, Rachel," the teacher smiled. "We will be looking at the homeless."
There were murmurs around the class. Kagome and her friends looked at each other uneasily.
"I would like you to do a project on them," the teacher continued. "You will need to research the different reasons why people become homeless, perhaps write a "diary on the life" of a homeless person. You could do all sorts of things, like talking to people who work for a homeless charity, like Shelter, or something similar."
(N.B. I don't own Shelter either.)
She looked around, her eyes falling on a group of boys at the back of the class. "I want you to do all aspects of homelessness," she added, "For youkai and humans, and for different ages and," she eyed the class doubtfully "for different genders and how each gets treated."
The girls and some boys giggled.
"Anyway," Kaede eyed them sternly, "You should aim to write a minimum of twenty sides, with different points of interest; facts, figures, and there must be one creative piece in there too. You have three months to do this; it will go towards your grade, so I suggest you do a good job."
The class sighed. Graded pieces were no fun at all. And twenty sides! Kaede was being very demanding.
"Three months?" murmured Kagome, "I reckon that'll be enough time."
"Not for me," Ayumi whispered back, "I'm on holiday next week, and so's Yuka."
Eri was about to add her comment but held back as Mrs Kaede looked at her with a glint in her eye.
"Well, I think that's quite enough for English for today. Start packing up, please. You will start properly on your work tomorrow."
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"How could she do this to us!" Eri wailed at lunch, absently prodding her sandwich.
"Why? I'm really busy this term what with the school production and all; I don't have time to do some stupid project!"
"What about me?" Yuka asked. "I'm going to Spain for three weeks soon – how am I meant to do the damn thing?"
"That woman's evil" Ayumi declared flatly. "An evil, evil, cow."
"I don't know," said Kagome thoughtfully. "I mean, we might learn something."
The other three stared at her in shock.
"Why would we want to concern ourselves with those losers on the streets?" asked Yuka.
"Yeah, we all know that it's their own fault that they're there," added Ayumi.
"And we shouldn't even bother with them," continued Eri, seriously. "Mum always said never to give anything to a homeless person because they'll spend it all on drugs and alcohol and act like general hooligans."
"Yeah! Kaede's set us a project on druggies and vandals!" cried Yuka.
"I can't wait to tell mum and dad," said Ayumi. "I bet they say I don't have to do it!"
"Poor you, Kags," Eri told her. "Your mum will make you do it, won't they?"
Kagome grinned. "I don't know if that's a bad thing," she replied.
"Kagome's gonna talk to dossers!" Yelled Yuka. "Kagome's gonna mix with the druggies! Kagome's gonna…..mmmmf!" Kagome clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Shut up!" she hissed.
"Isn't it true?"
"Well…"
"See? You know that."
"I don't care."
"You're going to do it then?"
"Yep."
"But Kagome, they're sub-human ! "
"So?"
"And they smell."
"And?"
"They're a no good bunch of…"
"Eri !"
"It's true!"
"Shut the hell up! I'm going to do this project, do it properly, get good marks and get you off my back!"
"But Kags…"
"'But Kags' nothing. I'm going to music!" and with that, the girl who had it all stormed off, leaving her three friends to gape in wonder.
"Think she'll do it?"
"Knowing Kagome?"
"Yes."
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The sun was shining weakly. The air was clear. Puddles shone on the ground, a tribute to the rage of last night's weather. The whole place had that feel of being freshly washed. However, this was not good news for Sango.
She stood gasping over her 'home,' the bag that she had placed in a bin late the previous night.
"It's soaking!" she exclaimed in dismay. "Oh, no. Everything I had was in there!"
Miroku bravely reached in a pulled the bag out with his one gloved hand. The fabric was ruined. And everything inside didn't look too great either.
"Oh, crap!"
All of Sango's food was ruined. She produced a small boomerang from one of the pockets. "At least Hiraikotsu's OK."
Miroku looked at it curiously. The boomerang was small and delicately made, with razor sharp edges. It seemed to grow slightly in her hand.
Kirara purred. It seemed that she didn't really care whether the food was ruined.
Sang produced a curious item of clothing, which looked like a sort of leotard. Miroku looked on curiously.
"Later," she murmured.
After several minutes it was clear that Sango wasn't going to be able to save anything more. Miroku shrugged.
"You can come with me if you would like. I have room where I live." He said the word 'live' with a certain twist to it.
Sango smiled. "That would be wonderful."
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The morning wore on as the two homeless teens wandered around London. People were out shopping, and Sango tried in vain to beg for some money. After getting punched in the face, she was forced to stop.
"Ungrateful whore!" The man who had hit her walked off.
Sango nursed her bleeding nose as Miroku produced a piece of cloth to wipe it with.
"Pinch it, it helps." He advised.
"You've been hit a lot?" Sango asked
"Well… yes." The teen replied. "The girls find me a bit much."
"I can imagine." Sango remembered his question to her the night before. Such a hentai. She thought.
"However, allow me to try getting some income," he continued. "I appear to have had more practice than you."
"What're you…"
"Ah, my dear lady," Miroku had gone up to a passer by. "Would you like to buy a Christmas angel?" The woman stared at him in disbelief. He smoothly continued. "In pristine condition, an angel for ten pounds."
Sango wondered what he would do if she accepted. He didn't appear to have anything to give.
"May I see the angel?" the woman asked. "I do need one, but my tree is awkward to fit…"
Miroku produced the item in question with a flourish. It was indeed an angel, from the glowing golden hair to the flowing silky imitation dress. Sango hid her astonishment with difficulty,
"Here you go, madam. Just ten pounds."
The woman with the dark curly hair examined it closely. After prodding and poking it several times she nodded.
"I'll take it. Do I get a receipt?" Miroku smiled disarmingly.
"No, my dear lady, you merely need to find me and tell me that you are not happy if you wish to return it."
The (seemingly gullible) lady smiled and nodded back, then bought the angel. Miroku waltzed up to Sango, seemingly delighted.
"And that," he said triumphantly, "Is how I make a living!"
Sango gaped at the crisp ten-pound note in his hand. He looked at it, than at her, the street girl in the green skirt, pink top and long raggedy jacket.
"Here." He said. "We'll split the money." Sango gaped.
"..."
Whumph! She threw herself onto Miroku, who gasped, then smiled foolishly. Next thing…
"Hentai!" Sango brained him with her boomerang.
Miroku rubbed his aching head. "Ah, I tried. Come, let's go elsewhere."
As they walked, Sango questioned her new friend on his money making strategy.
"Where did you get that angel?" she asked.
Miroku shrugged. "I live, if that is the word, in the closed down market. I find things there. My friend, Hachi, a youkai, fixes them for me. I pay him, and keep what I earn."
"What do you pay him with?" Sango was curious – most youkai didn't set a great store by money.
"With things I pick up that he likes. Easily satisfied, is Hachi."
"Here's a question," Sango continued.
"Go ahead."
"Why do you always wear that fingerless glove and those beads on your hand?"
Miroku held the hand in question up. There was a certain tone in his voice that Sango could not put her finger on. Regret?
"I've always had to wear this glove. It's something I've grown used to."
"But why…"
"Hush" Miroku put a finger to her lips. She hid her blush with difficulty.
"When my grandfather was young he was a great man. He fought in the Great War between the youkai and the humans.
"But, one time, a youkai cursed him, because he, as a captain, had won his battle. And that, I guess, was his undoing."
Sango put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "You don't have to go on. I understand."
"No, I do. If you are to stay with me, you must understand this.
"Anyway, the curse took place in the form of a strange mark on his hand. He didn't understand what it did until it killed someone."
Sango drew in a sharp breath.
"On each of the male children since then, there has been the same mark. If we touch someone with it, it kills him or her, as if they had been poisoned. It's … horrible. And, eventually, the poisonous touch of my hand will spread to my body and kill me too.
"When my grandfather realised this, he tried everything. Nothing worked. He found he could contain it by wearing a glove and keeping healing stones around his hand. But it could not stop his death."
Sango felt tears spring into her eyes – tears for another, which she had not felt in so long. "I'm sorry." She whispered.
"Don't be." He said, looking at the sky, a distant look in his eyes. "But I had to tell you, don't you see? I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Sango paused, then asked the most painful question of all. "How… how long do you have left?"
Miroku shrugged, still looking at the sky. "A few years, maybe, then I go to join my father. But in those few years, I've vowed to avenge my family – if I knew where to start."
Sango silently grabbed his arm and held it there, a strange comfort in this life of cruelty and despair.
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Inuyasha hesitantly uncurled himself from his cold refuge. The rains of the night had gone, to reveal a day so bright and fresh it didn't seem real. He slunk out of hiding wondering if he was in a dream.
The dream ended as someone threw a book at him from a window.
"Get out of here, hanyou. We don't want you. Go to the youkai side of town."
Inuyasha hastily ran away.
There was no point in fighting – he wouldn't gain anything. But he had tried to go to the other side of the city. He had been driven away from there, too.
"Stupid damn human." He muttered, as he strolled down the empty street. He would have to find a place to hide – the people would be coming out soon and he did not really want to have any fights, because that would mean running from the police again.
What he did need, the silver-haired boy decided, was some food, and maybe a bath. Yes. A bath would be good.
Inuyasha considered where to steal his next meal. The supermarket bread was usually a good place to start… they always left the windows open…
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Yeah...that was to get into the story.Whatcha think?
CN.