What a time for mother, father and Sōta to have left, Kagome thought, listening to the howling winds that rattled the doors of the storm cellar.

But she understood why they had taken the Model T Ford and traveled all the way to Omaha. Sōta was smart, and had the prospect of a bright future, one that did not include the lonely farm. That particular future was all for Kagome. If Sōta went to school, and then to college, Kagome would inherit the farm, and perhaps attract a quality husband. For that she would be grateful, as it was the best that she could hope for.

The family would be gone for a week, and Kagome would tend the farm. She was old enough now to do so: she could milk the cows and rotate the chickens and call the pigs in for their meals. She could exercise the horses and check the fences for holes and water the crops. Overall, Kagome had trained to be the perfect farmer's wife, and the week alone, she knew, was the test of her quality.

Being jealous of Sōta for leaving that place, that he, unlike her, would get to escape the chains of that farm, was unbecoming a good woman. And quietly begging Sōta to bring her his old school books so she too could hope to read and experience a life outside that place would not do for one destined to become a wife. Yet, in the quiet of the night, when their mother and father had gone to bed, that request was the one that Kagome had whispered to her brother. The books at home were woefully lacking, and the ride to the nearest town's library so far to only be the rarest of treats.

Her father had said that the only books she should consider were recipe books, the Farmer's Almanac, or the Bible. The books of fantastical worlds with woodland nymphs, or flying wizards, or great robot-filled cities, would be too much for her nerves, too much for her mind, when all her thoughts should be focused on the farm. As if L. Frank Baum and H.G. Wells and Jules Verne could erode away her duties to her family…

Kagome never did tell him about the kind-eyed librarian who winked at her, pulling a dog-eared book from the 1¢ bin and handing it to her. Nor had she made clear that she's squirreled that book away under the special floorboard that creaks when walked upon. She also kept mum about the fact that she'd sneak out to her window when the moon was bright or in the twilight before the sunrise, and read the words on the page about parts of the world she'd never seen.

Would a worldly and handsome stranger rescue her and take her Around the World in 80 Days? Kagome dreamt of it: going west to San Francisco, then perhaps to Hong Kong or Shanghai. Anywhere but the dusty Nebraska farm that her position as the eldest daughter chained her to.

As the storm raged and ripped at her safe place, Kagome closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and begged the gods in the sky to cease their fury. That if they were this insistent on carrying her away like Dorothy Gale, that perhaps she would take heed of their message and find her own version of Oz.

"Please," Kagome begged, "Please oh please for me. Spare my family's home. Spare our farm your fury. I—I will let you take me away, if that is the price!"

While the storm did not immediately answer, the winds lessened from a shriek to a groan, and the rattling doors settled. Then, slowly, the pounding rain became a pitter-patter. Kagome crept up the stairs and unbolted the doors, pushing them open wide. The single-story farmhouse was still there, as were the barn and the chicken coop and the fences and the trees. She could hear the cows in the distance, too.

Kagome breathed her relief as she emerged from the cellar. All was well! The storm's bark was worse than its bite and she was—she was…

Something was amiss. At the far end of the field, just past the barn, Kagome saw it: a brightly colored canvas covered in mesh was strewn haphazardly just beyond the fence that separated the house from the fields. And… a basket. Could it—could it be? Kagome racked her brain for such a thing, and there it was, recalled from the picture book in the library: a balloon. In her backyard.

Kagome took off at a run toward the fantastical sight. If a balloon had crash landed, there must be a person who had crash landed with it! Kagome scanned the multicolored fabric that blanketed the ground, along the netted blue stripes, then finally, to the basket.

Though it was intact, it was tipped over, and out of the woven rectangle, something—no, someone—spilled. He lay prone, halfway in the basket and halfway out of it. His hair was long and silver, and haloed around his face. His eyes were closed, but obscured by a pair of heavy leather aviator goggles. Atop his head, there were triangular dog ears of the same moonlit silver as his hair! His skin gleamed golden and his features were strained with some unseen pain. Kagome leaned down to touch the man, looking for signs of blood, as the soaking jacket he wore was a ruby red so similar to a blood-soaked garment that she could not tell. Kagome held her hand to the man's mouth, and felt the warm exhalation of his breath.

The fantastical man was alive at least. But was also in urgent need of help. Of care. Of her.

"I do not know who you are," Kagome said, as she knelt beside the man, and took his cold hand, "but I am Kagome, and I am going to help you."

Kagome was small, but a lifetime of farm work had made her sturdy. She'd been carrying bales of hay to the far pastures to feed the horses for years, and she'd installed near half the poles of her property's fence, working from dawn until dusk. She'd carried buckets of water by hand to the barn in the dead of winter to water the animals and repositioned a breaching calf as its mother struggled to deliver it. Surely she could get this man into a bed in her farmhouse, which was no more than a short walk from where they stood.

Even as she knew it would be smarter to run back to the house and find a wheelbarrow, she could not leave the unconscious dog-eared man alone. Not when his face was full of hurt and his body could be broken. Not when… his presence on her farm felt so much like the answer of the gods she'd bargained with from the storm cellar.

"I sincerely hope that you will be okay, and apologize that I must do this," Kagome said, taking the man's arms into hers and giving him a firm tug, relieved to see not a drop of red upon the beige balloon basket after she pulled him off of it.

As Kagome repositioned, she took in the bottom half of the man. His pants were made of black leather and almost scandalously tight, studded, like his black leather boots with the silver tips, perfectly matched to his pants. It seemed such a waste to drag such beautiful clothes through the mud, but it would have to do. She could give him something of her father's and perhaps, if instructed in their proper care, wash his clothing for him.

Kagome took a firm grip around one ankle, and then the other, and began the trek to the house. The path was over grass that had been dampened by the storm, which made for a much easier trek than Kagome had believed it would be. But once she'd managed to make it to her door, the difficult work would begin. She needed not only to carry him to bed, but also (much to her embarrassment) to change him into drier clothes.

"I would be much obliged if you'd wake for me," Kagome said to the man, just in case he was coming to. "I should love to hear about how you came to my farm…"

But he did not wake, so Kagome sighed and squatted down. She'd carried yearling pigs on her shoulders when there was need, but she was not sure that she had ever carried someone or something so heavy as this man before. She grabbed an arm and a thigh and she hoisted the man onto her back, finding his weight to be substantial, but not impossible. She roped her arms around his legs and his shoulders and used all her strength to stand.

"You're a heavy one," Kagome giggled, but found her muscles to be sturdier than she'd predicted, deftly managing the additional weight as she lumbered step-by-step into the house.

"...just meido the grim-comet…"
Kagome stopped mid-step. The voice she had heard was not her voice, but rather the voice of the man on her back. It was rasping, nearly a growl, but somehow also beautiful, like an oboe forming words.

The weight of stopping was straining her muscles, so Kagome hurried her legs to the guest room bed and flipped the man onto it, scanning his face for signs of consciousness. Alas, he was still asleep, but… rambling?

What was a meido and what was a grim-comet?

Were they even things from this world?

Kagome shook the fantastical thoughts out of her head. No, that would not do. Not when there was a soaking wet and unconscious man who needed her help.

She placed her hand on the man's forehead one more time, pleased at his lack of fever, then inhaled and prepared herself for what was to come next.

"A good farmer's wife can take care of the many ailments of the farm," Kagome stated, psyching herself up. "She does not see the sin of the flesh when her hands are used to nurture."

But somehow, even as she said it, and even as her hands began to work the buttons of the man's jacket off, she could not help but gaze at his form. What a sight it was! Lithe and lean, more muscled than the fairest farm hands that helped Father during the harvest. The rain had bled through the button-down and undershirt he wore, leaving the landscape of his clothed silhouette nearly as pleasing as if she had stripped him bare. More relieving, though, was the lack of red staining the white of his shirt. He had not bled.

But with his water-soaked clothes, stripping him near-to bare is what she was going to have to do.
It was so he did not become sick, but that truth did not tame the heat that came to Kagome's cheeks.

"...Let Kirara chase them into the sky…"
More strange words from the strange and beautiful man. His voice was an instrument of nonsense; yet, it was nonsense that Kagome longed to hear more of.

"Okay stranger, I do not know what you are chasing into the sky, but I do know you will catch a cold in those clothes. So I will go to Father's room and find you some pajamas." Kagome touched the man's cheek as she said it, unable to resist its beckon, trying not to think of how soft it was against the pads of her fingers.

Kagome hurried to her parents' room, past the master bed, and opened the door to the wardrobe, grabbing the red plaid pajamas that were folded on the bottom, a Christmas present from her Aunt Kaede, never once worn.

"They're your color," Kagome smiled, trotting back to the room where her guest lay, but stalled as she stepped over the threshold.

The truth was, she had never seen an unrelated man in any state of undress, and this one, with his silver hair and dog ears was so otherworldly that it brought a blush to Kagome's face. She… she'd never felt this way before. Not for the farm hands or the family 'friends' brought to dinner from neighboring farms. Not even for her handsome tutor home for the summer from university.

She was a woman of 18 years; she had thought perhaps that notions of love and marriage and romance were lost to her, in the practicality of the farm. But when she looked upon his comely face or caught his ear twitch, or when he spoke nonsensical things like they were lyrics to a song, Kagome could feel the flutter of her heartbeat, the tendrils of feeling that radiated from her chest, the pink come to her face. As if—as if—this man were the answers to her prayers, rather than the price to be spared the storm.

Could that be possible?

"I cannot think about that." Kagome shook the thoughts out of her head, then turned to the unconscious man, the one who needed her help.

She steeled herself for what was next, pulling off his boots and his socks. Then she looked at the sinful, but soaked, pants. She could do this, for him! So Kagome cracked her knuckles and undid the man's belt buckle, then unbuttoned the pants, averting her eyes as she worked. She could care for the man, but it would be improper to peek at the intimate details of him: the details, she knew, that a woman should only know of her husband.

"Just one more tug!" Kagome leaned back and pulled, her eyes shut, until she felt the pants come loose, sending her flying backward, landing on her backside with an unceremonious thud. When the leather pants landed too on her legs, Kagome let out a laugh. "You certainly made sure those were form-fitting!"

"Don't eat the human face fruit…"
It was more strange nonsense in that symphonic voice: a voice that, Kagome was beginning to realize, was strumming at the strings of her soul.

"Were you… were you sent to me?" she asked, mostly of herself, before standing back up, then grabbing the flannel pants to return the man his modesty.

Before she had managed to wiggle his feet into the legs of the pajamas (the poor man desperately needed a nail file!), she peeked. His legs were nearly as majestic as his chest, muscled like a fine-bred horse. Kagome blushed at her lust—how unbecoming of a lady to think such things! All about a poor soul blown off course by a storm.

"I—I'm sorry," Kagome whispered, making her way up to the man's torso. "It is not your fault that you got caught in a storm, only to find a nurse unable to contain her untoward thoughts. But, I will do better for you. I promise."

Kagome took a deep breath and finished her work, unbuttoning and removing the man's shirt and peeling off his undershirt, only pausing for a moment to admire the muscled skin with a golden gleam. She leaned the man forward gently, and pulled his arms through the sleeves of the flannel, then buttoned it for him, her fingers grazing the soft skin below.

Once he was finally dressed, Kagome took his clothes and hung them on the front porch to dry. She then went into the closet and found a wool blanket, which she threw over the man, tucking in the edges to keep him warm. He still had no fever, and there had been no signs of blood (or even bruises!), but still he had not awakened.

"I hope that you are okay," Kagome sighed, letting herself tease the silver bangs that hung lazily over his face, then finally giving into the temptation and cupping one of the two precious ears atop his head. "But I am here, and I will take care of you."

"...Get that mirror away from me Kanna!.."
Kagome sighed. At least his nonsense was becoming clearer. So clear, in fact, that Kagome had to drag herself away, because she found her breath bated, waiting for the next musical words to escape his mouth.

It would do no good sitting idle and staring. The man would wake when he woke, and Kagome needed to make sure the storm had only stranded one victim on her property. So she dusted off her skirt and headed back outside. She would return just as soon as she could, but the chickens needed to be fed and the cows and horses needed to be counted.

Kagome put on her galoshes and trudged out the door; instead of heading to the chicken coop, her feet carried her to the collapsed fabric of the balloon, surveying it carefully, searching for the cause of its failure. The field of blue and yellow looked out of a ticker tape parade she had seen in her books…

...except for one single spot, where the fabric was ragged and uneven. The gash that felled the balloon and grounded the dog-eared man. It was no longer than her wingspan. Easily mended.

Kagome smiled. It was something she could do for the sleeping stranger with the musical voice. Something to appease the gods who spared her farm, but not his balloon.

Kagome's patrol took far less time than she thought it would. The cows were huddled near the entrance of the barn, and the horses were in their paddock. The chickens, too, were frolicking in their enclosure, pulling earthworms out of the ground, and the pigs were lazing about in their pens. The signs of the storm were now no more than the gifts that it had bestowed on the farm, and the downed balloon.

Kagome stared at the mass of fabric that stared back at her. How would she see such a thing when dusk was fast approaching? She would need to drag the balloon's silk as best she could to the farmhouse porch, where at least she could work by candlelight and listen to the sounds of the man through the window of the guest room.

It was to be a pleasant evening, and the moon would be full that night. She tugged, taking care not to make the gash any worse than it was, until the balloon itself stretched nearly around the edge of the house, to the rocking chair Kagome intended to sit in and sew.

When she returned to the house, she looked in on the man, whose eyes were still closed, but his face had lost its wince of pain, and his ears now seemed to twitch at every one of her footfalls.

"I will leave you a glass of water, in case you wake while I work," Kagome smiled at his beautiful face.

"That's what Tenseiga is for, ya ass. Now put Jaken right…"
Kagome giggled at the crude language pouring out of his mouth. She had heard such words from the farm hands, and even occasionally her father, but somehow, when those words left the lips of this stranger, they too sounded like music.

"I sure hope that he did put Jaken right!" Kagome winked, then she set the water on the dresser by the bed and headed out the door, her sewing kit in hand. And perhaps, were she paying better attention, she would have noticed that the dog-ears on the top of the man's head now followed her as she made her way to the porch.

The silk of the balloon felt nearly as soft against Kagome's fingers as the man's hair, and it was light and airy on her lap, giving easily to her needle and thread. What she thought would take until the moon was high in the sky instead took only an hour, such that the fireflies were still twinkling in the air when she looked at the stitched up gash of a hot air balloon that landed in her yard.

"You will be able to go home now," Kagome sighed, thinking of the dog-eared man. "I… I wonder where home is for you." She then lowered her voice to a whisper, because the next words from her mouth were words she was afraid to say, even if they were her heart's most ardent wish: "I wonder if you would take me with you."

Dog ears pricked at the words, at the wish, whispered into the night on that Nebraska farm.

"I suppose the best I can do is go to sleep," Kagome said, stretching after she tied off the last stitch. She looked in just one more time at the unconscious man, letting her hand rest on his (still-cool) forehead, before she plodded into her own bedroom, exhausted from the events of the day, collapsing into a dreamless sleep.

"Fucking bloody hell!" A musical growl roused Kagome from her slumber. Had father come home early? Was she still half-asleep such that the mooing of the cows sounded like vulgar words?

No.
Kagome shot up from her blankets, now entirely awake, remembering the previous day.
So it had not been a dream.

Kagome rolled out of bed and threw on a robe, skittering to the room that used to house the silver-haired stranger. Who… came to her at the moment she promised the gods that she would journey beyond the farm if they spared it…

The blanket she'd wrapped around him the previous night was thrown haphazardly onto the floor. The glass of water was now emptied, and the red flannel pajamas she'd dressed him in to allow his clothes to dry were draped on the wooden chair in the corner of the room.

Kagome rushed out of the house. The mended silk was no longer stretched to the front porch, and the clothes left to dry were no longer hung on the rope she'd placed them on the night before. It was as if the stranger had done all he could to extricate himself as quickly as possible from the farm (and the girl) who'd pulled him from the tipped basket and brought him inside.

Why did that bring tears to her eyes? Was she cursed like Aouda, chained to this farm and destined for her husband's funeral pyre? But, unlike Auoda, instead of a stranger coming to whisk her away from that place, was her life so repugnant that he would run from her at the earliest convenience?

Then why had the gods given her this chance to dream of what could be waiting for her beyond the farm?

"I should never have let myself dream," Kagome whispered, and made to return to the house. She needed to make the bed and launder Father's pajamas before he returned. She needed to dress and begin the day's chores. Perhaps she could focus on the housework that needed doing, to ensure that the dog-eared stranger had returned to the sky before she had need to return to the yard.

"Dream what?" No longer a whispered ramble, strong and clear, musical. So close that Kagome jumped.

Standing just behind her was the silver-haired man. She'd believed him tall, but it was not until she saw him properly on his feet that she understood just how tall: almost 20 hands, she suspected. His mouth was curled into a bright smile, with teeth gleaming in the sunlight and… fangs! And his eyes… they were like no eyes she had ever seen on a human. They were luminous gold, like those of a Great Horned Owl: wise, otherworldly, intense. Looking back into them brought a blush to Kagome's face so heated that she was forced to look away.

"N—nothing." It was more difficult than she imagined forcing the words out of her mouth.

"Aww… that's no sort of answer!" The stranger continued grinning, taking one more step toward Kagome. "Unless of course you went running outta your house in your sleep clothes from a nightmare."

Oh, no. Kagome had forgotten that she was in her nightgown and robe! She had not even thought to put on slippers in her rush out the door! At her dawning realization, the stranger started laughing, music laced in every guffaw.

"Perhaps those luxurious pajamas I woke up dressed in would suit you better?" The stranger raised one of his clawed hands to wipe a tear from his eye.

"I'm s—sorry," Kagome could feel her own tears rising. Tears of humiliation, of this mockery. She had tried her best to give this man comfort in his hour of need and he was—

A gentle hand to her jawline shocked her tears back away.

"Wait a minute there, darlin', my words were meant in jest." His golden eyes found Kagome's, and even as their fires blazed, there was warmth. "To clothe and nurse an injured half-demon to health," he let his fingers linger on her skin as she gazed into those luminous eyes, "not just anyone would be that special."

"D—demon..?" Kagome stuttered, trying to remember the prose of Stoker, of how Dracula lured his victims away. But… she couldn't fear this man. Her soul sang from his touch and her heart fluttered from his smile.

"Half-demon." The man replied, his joyful gaze unrelenting. "My asshole brother likes to remind me of that at every fucking turn." Then, a little chuckle activated the laugh lines on his handsome face. "I told him to stick it where the sun don't shine. Then—uh—well… let's just say my sis-in-law had good reason to throw my balloon off-course. Bitch didn't realize her wind power would gash it, though."

"Y—your sister-in-law threw you into that storm?" Kagome wasn't sure if the man's lucid words were more or less unbelievable than his delirious ones.

"Kagura's got a temper." The man shrugged, but then his eyes lit like a sparkler again, re-catching a thought that had tried to run away. "But you still have not told me what dream has now been chased away!" Then his ears began to wiggle and his grin grew wider, "or, for that matter, your name."

"I'm—I'm nobody." Kagome finally ripped her eyes away from his eyes. To a demon with a sister-in-law who had power of the wind, what more could she—a Nebraska farm girl—ever truly be?

"You're a real somebody in my eyes," the man said, resetting his head to recapture Kagome's eyes. "A girl who finds a half-demon stranger unconscious in her backyard. Dresses him in warm pajamas and wraps him in a blanket, then brings him water. And not only that, she sews up the tear in his balloon so good that the thing is ready to fly in the mornin'." The man leaned in even closer, his breath tickling Kagome's face now. "That certainly doesn't sound like nobody to me."

"I… need to get dressed." Clouds of lust and dreams had entered Kagome's mind at the man's proximity. She needed to give herself a little time to breathe, a little time to think… and maybe even a little time to dream.

"I should hope you will find your way back to me once you've done so?" the man asked, his bright smile softening, and his golden eyes glinting with an edge of longing. "But, first, please, tell me your name."

"Kagome." Her heart spoke the words before she had time to stop them.

"Ka-go-me." Her name sounded melodic when spoken through his lips. "Beautiful name." He then took her hand in his, and guided it up to his lips, ghosting it with a lingering kiss. "You can call me Inuyasha."

Before she knew what she was doing, Kagome rushed into the house. She changed out of her nightgown and robe and into one of her long-sleeved dresses. It was a green gingham base with an emerald apron, and a laced collar. It was the dress Kagome was most proud of making, and the one she only wore on the fanciest of occasions. She combed her nighttime braid out of her hair, electing to leave it down. Finally, she put on her knee-high white socks (the ones she'd knitted with her finest thread and needles) and her leather buckled shoes (the ones she normally saved for church).

Kagome ran out the door, over the porch, and toward the field and the balloon. Toward Inuyasha, the answer to her prayer, the price of her bargain. The… Phileas to her Aouda? Because, now that she'd seen those eyes, felt the touch of his lips to her skin, watched the smile that came to his face at saying her name, the dream had been rekindled.

"You look positively radiant." Inuyasha's head popped over the balloon, which was beginning to take shape. "Like you're ready to go on an adventure."

"O—oh." Kagome blushed. She had not questioned her heart's insistence that she dress in her Sunday best, but now, faced with the real prospect of going Around the World with this man, she felt the blush return. She'd been so forward in expecting! What if Inuyasha had a wife and children waiting?

Kagome belonged on the farm. She had trained to be an excellent farmer's wife, and would do her duty well. How could she even fathom—

"Would you like to?" Inuyasha interrupted her private shame, approaching her slowly, his ears now drooping, his eyes now shy. But even still, he did not stop walking toward her, did not stop smiling hopefully. When he was no more than an arm's length away, Inuyasha stopped. "Kagome… I—I do not take fate's games lightly. Not when my adventures throw me so literally on someone's doorstep. I believe I was meant to meet you, and perhaps even, meant to be nursed by you."

"Meant to meet?" Kagome could not ignore the light that was blossoming in her heart from his words.

"Did you not say that you hoped, perhaps, to accompany me?" A red blush brushed the bridge of Inuyasha's nose as he spoke. "I've traveled alone for a long time just… waiting to find someone—the right someone—to join me." But just as suddenly his face turned serious, and he knelt down on a single knee, taking her hand into his once more. "And it seems that my prayers have been answered. Please, Kagome. Come with me. Fly away… with me…"

Kagome did not speak, for she found her voice stolen by Inuyasha's sincerity. Her bargain with the gods was no bargain: it truly was a plea, to live the adventures of her books, to break the chains of a farmer's wife-in-training. And the gods answered her prayers, delivering Inuyasha to her.

"Yes." Kagome said, the tears no longer able to be suppressed. "Yes, Inuyasha, yes!"

"Fuck YES!" Inuyasha howled, then, unable to control himself, he pulled Kagome in for an encompassing hug, peppering the top of her head with kisses. "I… I don't think I have ever been so happy as in this moment, Kagome."

"Me either," Kagome admitted, tipping her face up to meet Inuyasha's, letting herself surrender completely to his arms. He was warm, and safe, and he smelled of the earth and rain, as if he himself were the god of the storm she prayed to. And Kagome knew that his arms were arms she wanted to have hold of her for the rest of her life.

There would be time for those thoughts and those dreams soon, so very soon. But even as she would follow her heart, Kagome would not abandon her duties in making sure that the farm was ready for her family's return.

It took only an hour. The chickens were fed for the week, and extra hay had been put out for the horses and cows. In that time, the balloon rose to life, aided by the curses and growls of Inuyasha, finally—finally—ready to carry them away.

"Are you certain, Kagome?" Inuyasha asked, his hands now on Kagome's hips, ready to lift her into the basket. "Because I fear that this is the last time I should be able to let you go."

"I am certain, Inuyasha," Kagome answered, laughing as he effortlessly set her into the basket. "Because I, too, believe in fate."

As Inuyasha cut the ropes that tied them to the ground and they rose into the sky, Kagome let her heart take flight too, now a heroine from the books she'd dreamed of. With the man who answered her prayers.

On the kitchen table, next to the folded pajamas, lay a dog-eared book from the 1¢ bin at the library, liberated from its spot below the creaky floorboard. In that book was a note, from the eldest daughter of the Higurashi family.

Do not fear for me, mother and father. I am Aouda, who has found her Phileas, and we are off to see the world.