Once again all comments are on the forums. Accessy through my profile page.

The comments for this post will be going up tomorrow morning, rather than tonight, because I am a very very tired person.

Ja ne.

Kagome was not feeling well. Well, certainly she wasn't: she had just been kidnapped, with no hope of rescue, and was, in all likelihood, going to be killed at the first opportunity. But, despite all that, Kagome had been handling the situation pretty well. At least her stomach had been somewhat behaving.

Then they had gotten on the plane.

Kagome normally didn't take well to planes. She had once flown to see Dad and Souta in Florida, on one of those big jets, and that had been grim enough for her. She had needed an airline bag not once, twice, or even thrice, but six times on the trip there. She must have set some sort of record, because on the return trip the stewardesses gave her a special seat and (most importantly) a pre-positioned set of ten little paper sacks to barf into. That had been a normal jet. Normal turbulence. Normal nausea. Normal trip.

This wasn't a normal jet. This was to a jet like a high-caliber rifle was to a sling-shot. It was smaller, although mercifully still large enough to provide her, Terri, and InuYasha with their own room separate from the cockpit, where Taisho was content to spend most of his time. And it also had no turbulence, which was a god send. What this jet did have, though, was speed.

The laws of physics state that, via the properties of inertia, an object moving at a uniform velocity will feel as if it is not moving at all. The laws of physics had never ridden this plane. They were going far past the speed of sound. They had left Washington perhaps three hours ago, and were already well over the pacific. Kagome was no science genius, but she was pretty sure that that was supposed to be impossible. Well, at least Kagome had a good view of the water below them. Far too good, actually. The only other time she had flown, it had been at a height of some five miles, or something like that. This was, at most, two hundred feet.

Even ordinary ocean was very, very threatening when viewed at that velocity from that distance.

Terri was quite convinced that it was neat. She had spent many long minutes bringing it to Kagome's attention, much to the younger girl's displeasure. Then, of course, after Kagome was thoroughly horrified, she contented herself to have an argument with InuYasha.

The odd thing, though, was that InuYasha was winning. It wasn't only because InuYasha happened to be making more sense at the time, but also because, for the first time in his life, he could really fight back.

"Get off, you little wanker!" Terri growled, shaking her hand rapidly.

InuYasha didn't feel like removing himself. He had slipped a pair of claws out of his hard metal shell, and was using them to hold onto Terri's finger for dear life.

"Like hell I will!" InuYasha yelled, shifting his grip quite impressively from one claw to the other.

"Ouch! C'mon, I just wanna see your new body!"

"I'm effing showing it to you, okay?" InuYasha growled, slowly beginning to work up her hand towards her arm.

"You're pinching me, retard!"

"And what the hell do you wanna do to me?"

Terri had at least the grace to look sheepish. "Take you apart just a little."

InuYasha managed to get up into her wrist, and from there to her shoulder. He started ramming his tiny bulk into the side of her head. "Like hell you would. First it's my code and now this? You're real twisted, you know that?"

"I'm just curious," she insisted, grabbing at him, but he was far too quick. He swiftly scuttled down the small of her back, hiding in the untamed jungle of her hair.

"Well be curious about something else!" came his muffled reply. "Don't you ever groom, woman? It's like a jungle back here."

"I pride myself on not cutting letting my hair go free. Haven't cut it since second grade."

"Don't blame you," InuYasha quipped. "Looks like you need a weed whacker to do it right."

"Get out of there!" Terri screeched, thrusting her hands back into the mop that covered her back, trying to find her little invader. "You're worse than fleas."

"Your fleas aren't that happy with you either, lady."

"I'm gonna kill you, you little—gwaaagh!"

Terri's hand whipped outward, InuYasha attached to the end of it via pincher. His metallic frame went flying, and sprawled across the metal floor of the plane at Kagome's feet. Somehow managing to look proudly injured despite the total lack of expression, InuYasha rose to his eight tiny feet, and began crawling up Kagome's leg.

Kagome felt her skin crawl as tiny steel pinpoints worked the material of her jeans, but she did her best to ignore it. She looked out the window again, trying to clear her mind. The antics of her traveling companions were definitely starting to weigh on her, and she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to keep up a mask of indifferent humor.

Terri sucked on her finger, gently. "I liked it better when he could just insult me," she whined.

"You're just mad that you got owned by a little thing a tenth your size."

Terri actually pouted at that, and sauntered haughtily down the narrow path down the center of the plane to sit across from Kagome, staring quite intently at InuYasha as she did so.

InuYasha met her gaze smoothly with his single, beady-red eye.

Terri stuck her tongue out.

InuYasha made a rude little gesture with his claws.

Terri casually returned the gesture.

Kagome felt an irritated little knot form in her stomach. Here she was, being kidnapped, for crying out loud, and the only people she could trust seemed to be obsessed with arguing with one another.

"How you holding up?" Terri has asked the question. It was directed at Kagome.

She smiled as innocently as possible. Everyone else seemed to want to keep up a mask of mock cheerfulness, so why shouldn't she? "I'm doing fine…" she said, not even sounding confident to herself.

Terri nodded slowly. "I don't suppose you've thought of some genius way to get out of this, have you?"

"Remind me again why beating the shit out of him won't work again?" InuYasha muttered from Kagome's lap, scooting back a bit and settling himself comfortably in the little cleft right behind her knees.

Terri tensed just a little, and a genuine scowl crossed her face. "I tried that one," she smiled sarcastically. "Got a gun rammed down my throat."

InuYasha scoffed. "Just cause you're not good enough."

"I'd like to know anyone here who could do anything better."

"Hell, I was beating you just a second ago."

"Why don't you shut up before I throw you out a window, huh?"

"Children." Kagome's voice had come out sharper than she intended. "I think we should remember that we are currently on a plane over the Pacific Ocean. We can't do anything until we get where we're going."

"And once we get there, you'll probably have to kill me."

Kagome tensed as Taisho stepped out of the door to the cockpit, and casually strolled towards him. His lips were curved in a sardonic smile. "I'm correct, yes?" he murmured. "I have far too much will and authority to be left unattended. I would not leave you alone, and you would not be able to hide from me. The only logical solution would be to remove me from the picture."

She could feel InuYasha getting to his feet on her lap, rearing himself up to glare at Taisho, but Kagome found herself unable to glare. She wasn't even able to match his gaze.

Terri's eyes narrowed. "And how, dare I ask, would you advise we do that?"

Taisho thought for a moment. "There are many ways to kill a man. I normally like to hire someone else to do it, but if necessary I could show you twenty seven different ways to snap a man's neck." His smile deepened. "I'd need a dummy, though, and there's only one person with a neck here besides you and me. Would you be happy with only learning one way?"

Kagome trembled, again reminded how heartless the man they were dealing with was.

Terri didn't seem as affected, though. She shifted herself between the man and Kagome, casually tightening her fists. "Why are we here, Taisho?" It was blunt and to the point. "Matter of fact, why are you here. You wouldn't have come yourself if things hadn't gone bad for you."

"Wrong," Taisho shrugged. "As a matter of fact, everything that has happened up until now has gone more or less according to plan, save the slight incident with Sonada-san. Of course, I didn't really leave anything to be able to go wrong, either, so that, perhaps, is reasonable."

Kagome and Terri exchanged quick glances, and then Kagome shifted her gaze to InuYasha. "What was your plan?" she asked softly.

Taisho smiled. "You really want to know?" he chuckled, shrugging as he did so, and sitting peaceably across from them. "I can't tell you everything: in its very nature, the plan relies on your ignorance. But I can tell you a few things.

"Girls, let me tell you this about life: as much as men desire success, wealth, or even fame, what they desire even more is to create. My business is, as you no doubt are finding out, dangerous, and I've no idea how much longer I'll be around. Thus, I am making one last work of art.

"Unfortunately for you two, the brushes I paint with are the lives of other people. I'm using you like I would a chisel or a potter's wheel."

Kagome felt her stomach lurch a little. "What are you trying to sculpt?" she demanded quietly.

Taisho smiled, and slowly dropped his gaze to the tiny little creature sitting in her lap. "You seem to like him, even as he is now. Just imagine what he's going to be like once he's finished."

There was silence for a moment, but eventually InuYasha stirred. "You're talking about me."

Taisho nodded slowly. "Quite a way to create something, isn't it? When you use human lives to paint with, you are never quite sure how the final canvas will look."

InuYasha trembled slightly where he stood, his tiny hooked feet digging slightly into Kagome through her jeans. "So you just go and fuck up Kagome's life for your little arts and crafts project?"

Taisho was stolid for a moment. "Why yes," he said eventually, with a flourish and a smile.

InuYasha barely repressed his growl. "That's really low. You know that, right?"

Taisho shrugged. "Don't really care, either."

"You bastard…"

Taisho had a pistol in his hand, and was pointing it at Kagome the second the words were out of the tiny robot's speakers. "What did I tell you about that phrase?"

Kagome trembled, looking directly down the barrel of the gun. "InuYasha… drop it…" she half pleaded.

Taisho's scowl darkened. "I believe I have made it perfectly clear to all parties involved that I very much dislike being called a bastard. It offends me. So I would ask that you don't use the word, understand?"

"InuYasha…" Kagome said again, eyes shifting up to Taisho's trigger finger. It was trembling.

"Shoot her and I delete myself," InuYasha said, very slowly and deliberately.

Taisho's finger abruptly stopped shaking.

Kagome's breath caught in her throat.

Then the gun slowly dropped. Taisho was smiling, but there was a sudden anger in his eyes. "Fair enough," he said with a slight snap, and turned back towards the flight deck.

InuYasha made a rude little gesture with his front feet as the man walked away.

Taisho bristled for a second, and but continued walking. He was growling insults as he went.

InuYasha sank back to his feet, feeling quite satisfied. Showed him a thing or two. Hell yeah.

At least, he was feeling satisfied until little sensors detected an imminent threat behind him. He turned, but not in time. Something caught him. Hard. The gyroscopes that were in charge of his orientation and balance when completely haywire as he spun out of control and smacked with a dull thud into the wall of the plain.

"What the hell?" InuYasha slowly struggled to his feet, and shook himself off.

Something hit him again. It was a shoe.

He spun, completely disoriented, and recovered in time to see Kagome, face crinkling in anger, pulling off her other loafer.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded icily.

Carefully, InuYasha dodged the second shoe that came flying at him, and instantly began to retreat as Kagome took a dangerous step towards him. Confusion clogged his circuits as a low growl set into the girl's throat. Something was definitely wrong, but what?

Kagome stormed towards him, which was a very frightening sight to see, given that she was well more than ten times his own diminutive height. "What's your problem, Kagome?" he demanded, dropping 'wench' in lieu of her real name. She seemed really pissed, and working her up even more wouldn't do him much good now.

"What's my problem?" she screamed. "My problem is that you're a huge goddamn idiot. That's my problem."

InuYasha felt himself bump up against the back of the cabin, and quickly began to scale the walls. He needed to find high ground, if he was to be safe. "I'm not getting you, Kagome…"

"How could you do something like that, you moron?" She shouted, charging towards him, intent on peeling him off the walls. But he was surprisingly spry, and made it to the ceiling before she could reach him.

"Kagome," Terri scolded from her seat. "What crawled up your bum and died?"

"Shut up!" Kagome commanded, whiling to try and face both of them at the same time. "He has no right to put his life on the line like that."

InuYasha stopped suddenly, and turned towards her. "Is that what this is all about?"

"What did you think it was all about, retard?" she demanded, less anger and more hurt in her voice now. "How could you even say something like that? You'll delete yourself?"

"Kagome, I was trying-"

"I don't care, InuYasha. Nothing gives you the right to say that, okay?"

"I did it for you wench!" he growled as his temper flared, 'wench' once again in his active vocabulary. "He had a gun to your stupid little head. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Gee, I dunno, something besides threaten suicide, for starters?"

"What are you, stupid?" InuYasha growled. "It was common sense. He just gets done telling us how much he cares about me, and then threatens to hurt you. Sorry, Kagome, but there's no way I'm gonna let him get away with that."

"Well there was some other way you could have-"

"What?" InuYasha interrupted, finding his own voice was suddenly just as fierce. He had protected her, dammit. He had thrown his neck out there to save hers, and she had the gall to get pissed at him for it? "What could I have done, Kagome? Hate to tell you this, but I'm not really combat armed, here. Most effective thing I could have done besides what I did was try to hit him in the crotch, and I think we both know how much good that would do, Kagome. I did the only thing I could have done, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Kagome shouted, full force now. "Don't ever threaten that again, InuYasha."

"Not your choice, wench."

"It's not worth killing yourself for me, InuYasha."

The little machine dropped from the ceiling to the floor, and briefly glared at her. "That ain't your call either."

Slowly, the anger fell from her face. "InuYasha…" she murmured, half-pleading. "Please. Don't do anything stupid like that for me."

InuYasha sighed, shaking his little chassis from side to side. "Kagome, I'm not even goddamn sure if I'm alive in the first place, so don't go telling me what I can or can't die for."

Kagome crossed her arms. "But-"

"Kagome?"

She turned. Terri was sitting in her seat still, on eyebrow raised as high as it would go.

Kagome swallowed, and nodded slowly.

"Much as I hate to agree with anything he says, spider-boy's right this time."

Kagome's jaw dropped. "How can you say that?" she gasped.

Terri's eyes shot open, and her lips suddenly fell into a killing scowl. "I can say that because it's the truth, Kagome," she hissed. "I hate to tell you this, but our survival rate right now is nil. We're all gonna have to take risks like that, because if we don't then all three of us are going to die, and no offense, but I don't like that idea."

Kagome threw her arm at InuYasha. "But he shouldn't have to be the one to-"

"Could we just cut the idealistic crap for a second?" Terri said so softly that it severed Kagome's shouts like a knife. "Let's face it. None of us should have to do any of this. We're eighteen years old. We should be thinking about what boys we like and where were going to college, not how we're gonna survive the next couple hours."

She slowly stood up in her seat. "And I don't know about you, Kagome, but I for one, am scared shitless of it." She turned on the shorter girl, eyes burning. "I'm about this close to peeing my pants because I know that at some point we're all gonna have to risk taking a bullet to the head for one another, and that's not something I'm looking forward to, and it'll be a whole lot easier if you don't freak out on us every time the tiniest little bit of trouble comes along, okay?"

The sudden silence in the cabin muffled the loud rumble of the jet engines.

Kagome was gaping, jaw hanging slack against her neck.

Terri trembled a few moments more, and then set back down into her seat, looking away.

Kagome swallowed a very cautious mouthful of air, and slowly descended into her seat as well.

The little ticks of InuYasha scuttling awkwardly back and fourth over the metal did nothing to alleviate the silence. They only punctuated it.

It was several long moments before Taisho's voice came over the intercom and informed them that they would be nearing Japan in about an hour.

A few more moments before Kagome spoke again.

"Sorry."

Terri's hand waved wearily in the air. "Don't worry about it," she muttered softly.

Kagome looked out the window, musing softly to herself and watching for the tiny bit of coastline that could, she suddenly realized, be her home until the day she died.

Miroku took slow measured steps upwards, grunting slightly as his forehead began to bead with sweat.

He would have to remember to hit himself for putting so many stairs in his laboratory later, when his hands were free. To his defense, he had never expected to have to actually live here, but he hadn't had anywhere else to call home for almost three years running.

He had most certainly never expected to be carrying a woman bridal style into his humble residence (albeit, the thought had made it into his idle dreaming from time to time). In those dreams though, the woman had always been conscious.

She was quite heavy, he found, particularly with all the leather she wore. Miroku didn't like leather. It was far too coarse for him. Sango was a woman more fitted for cotton, or perhaps silks. The corners of his mouth tugged. Thin silks. Very thin silks. And not a lot of them. Or perhaps none at all.

He allotted himself such thoughts for only a moment before shutting them out of his mind. She was wounded, and needed medical attention foremost. Any other attentions Miroku would love to give her could wait until later. Like when she was conscious, for instance.

By the time he reached the top floors of his lab, he was sweating up a storm. He made a little mental note to remodel after this fiasco was over. Putting the medical sector of the lab on the top floor hadn't been the best of ideas.

It troubled him, though, the difference of strength in his body. His right arm had all the strength of a colossus, but the rest of him was just as frailly human as anybody else. Perhaps he could make a few modifications to his legs, and…

He scowled suddenly, lips tightening. With a vicious cruelty, he threw the thought from his head and sealed it off in some dark pit in the back of his mind. He had mutilated himself quite enough, thank you.

From the top of the gently curving stairs, it was only a few more yards to the room he wanted. The intensive rehabilitation chamber was a place he had used himself for quite a while after he had first gotten his new arm. It was well suited to the task at hand. As he trudged into the small room, he laid his precious Sango down on a smooth, padded bench.

He took but a moment to ensure everything was in order. It had been several months since he had touched anything within the confines of this room, but he made sure to leave things in good shape whenever he closed it up again.

He was glad of that now. Everything was prepped, and all he needed to do was run the final scan and get Sango into her treatment unit. That piece of technology which had so often saved his own life was something he had designed strait out of some science fiction movie he had seen once. A huge tube, clear and gleaming, dominated one corner of the room. There was a simple vertical slab in the capsule, with padded restraints.

Miroku's eyes shifted over a monitor towards the base of capsule, scanning the data readouts for the thing casually. Everything was ready, and if all would go according to plan Sango would be right as rain within a day.

That was, of course, after he got her in it.

Miroku turned back to the still form of the girl, and for what seemed like the hundredth time that day his eyes narrowed at her clothing. It would be troublesome, he knew, trying to peel it off without moving her too much, and movement was something Miroku was trying to avoid.

Well, the trench coat, at least, would be easy enough.

It was best to get this part of the job done quickly.

With a tiny click, a long blade extended from his right index finger. It was very sharp, and made short work of the hard leather that covered the woman's form. It wasn't long at all before it had been reduced to a few very long pieces loosely resting over her.

Peeling what remained coat away, Miroku took a grimace at the rest of his duty. She wore a clinging halter that would no doubt be hell to remove, and some tight leather pants that would no doubt be even more so. He sighed, and shook his head.

Carefully, he removed the shirt in much the same way, a quick slit to each of the thin shoulder straps, and then a very careful incision down the middle. It was only once the central slit was made and the shirt fell open, though, did his brain fog.

In retrospect, he should have expected it. Despite his self-proclaimed expertise in the matter, he was far from versed in feminine clothing, but even he knew what was lying in wait when a woman's shirt was removed. He should have steeled himself before he had begun, but he hadn't.

And Sango was very beautiful.

With a sudden wrench, he tore his eyes away, and turned around again, steadying himself. He snorted a moment in self disgust. It wasn't right to look at a wounded woman like that.

He took a deep breath, girding himself, and turned again, keeping his eyes below the level of Sango's waist, and went to work on the heinous pants. They proved to be the most difficult: he had to make six cuts, all down the hip and onto the thigh, just to get them to where they would slip off.

They slipped of rather suddenly and…

Oh…

Oh dear…

Sango's legs were very…

He tore away, first clenching at his sides.

With an inward curse, he shook his head. There was a time, once, when he had actually had self control. Apparently, sometime in his long seclusion, he must have lost that.

He whirled, and, concentrating now more on speed than anything else, bereaved her the last scrap of cloth on her body and scooped her up before his treacherous eyes could even take into the full scope of the beauteous thing before him. Right arm crooked under her knees and left arm gently holding up her shoulders and head, he ferried her to the medical tank. Eyes straight forward, he commanded the tube open, and the glass slid smoothly away, allowing an opening towards the bowled bottom perhaps three foot square.

Carefully, trying to keep both hands and eyes away form the sensitive areas, he strapped her into the tube. That done, he carefully fixed a respirator tube into her nose, and sealed her mouth with a bit of medical tape, to make sure she wouldn't drown. As he backed away, he hit a few commands on the side of the console.

The glass slowly closed around her again, and just as it sealed liquid began to pour from the ceiling of the tube, running down the sides in smooth rivulets. It was barely any time at all before the woman was completely submerged, and the water level was reaching the ceiling. Miroku kept his eyes focused on her hairline, suddenly wavy and hypnotic, as he waited to ensure that the procedure was working as it was supposed to be.

As the liquid stopped filling, there was a soft chirping sound.

Glints of silver began to obscure the water, and swarm to her, like tiny schools of fish. Tiny schools of fish towards an immensely beautiful mermaid. And mermaids were famous for not wearing—

Miroku distracted himself, recounting as much detail of the tiny machines that were currently fixing his guest. Amazing things all connected by a small wireless network, all working under the same intelligence. It had been a little gift from Taisho in the early years of their relationship. Miroku had designed their mechanical functions himself. More like tiny bugs than anything else, they were designed only for one purpose: seek damaged tissue, and repair it.

As the first found Sango's skin, they clung and immediately began to crawl, miniscule waving sensors searching for any wounds. It wasn't long at all before they discovered the long gash in her head, and the crack in bone underneath, and it wasn't long before dozens were there, tiny little claws working furiously as they sought to repair the damaged flesh.

Still others, found more trivial wounds: a scratch on the cheek, a scab that had been picked at on her shoulder, or a piece of fingernail that had been cut far too close. They swarmed over her.

Miroku watched as one of the innocent little machines carefully made its way over her, looking for anything to fix. His eye traced it as it went from one cheek to another, then down to her long, pretty neck, and then across her chest.

There his eyes ceased following the machine.

His tongue drifted out, and wetted his lips. Right arm clenched. Left arm reached.

His soft fingers, for only a moment, brushed across the thing sheet of glass that separated them, longingly.

Sango was very beautiful, and it had been so long since he had even seen a woman in real life. Surely nobody would begrudge him of taking advantage of such opportunity placed at his doorstep…

His hand, pressed smooth against the glass slowly formed into a fist, and drew away.

He turned around, face unreadable, and took measured paces to the other side of the lab, where he set his hands down on a slim metal work table. His lips quirked up into a smile.

With a sudden howl of rage, he brought both fists down on the table as hard as he could.

Gods, he was so very weak. He was like a damn mongrel dog for all the self control he had, lusting over anything with the right anatomy that happened to pass his way.

His eyes surveyed the table beneath him. Where his right hand had hit, the metal dented in by almost a solid foot. Beneath his left hand were a few drops of blood from his scratched knuckles.

He trembled slightly. It was his flesh that made him so pathetic. Of this he was positive. His right arm was strong and powerful. It lacked no discipline. It obeyed as he wanted it to.

How easy would it be for him to simply do for the rest of himself what he had done with his arm. Improve himself. Make everything about him stronger.

It would be truly easy.

But, like every other time he had considered such action, he chickened out. There was no way he could ever do something so heinous to himself. The flesh was weak, pathetic, and disobedient, but at least it was alive. That was something that his right arm would never be able to claim again.

On that grim thought he rose up, and made his way out of the room.

Alarms would sound through the whole lab should something go wrong with the treatment, and he would be able to be there within minutes. Sango would no doubt be awake by tomorrow, and at that time she would surely want some food, her own room and bed, and if nothing else, some decent clothes.

There was work to be done, by then, and work, at least, was something Miroku could force himself to do.