A/N: Here I am, and with chapter 35. Thanks go to all of my reviewers.
Not only do you provide a review junkie with her fix, you make it much
easier to write the new chapters. Sorry this one took so long to write. I
was sick last week.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Synthetic Emotions
"I bet you're not used to being confused," she said, glancing over her shoulder as she washed her chocolate milk-sticky hands in kitchen sink, carefully measuring the hanyou's reaction to her words.
Inuyasha shrugged, leaning against the counter top behind him. "So why couldn't you sleep?"
"I. . ." Kagome began, catching herself when she found she didn't know what she wanted to say. What was she supposed to tell him? She was afraid that he'd been thinking of Kikyo when he'd kissed her, and the thought made her restless and sick to her stomach? That didn't sound like the best course of action to her. "I suppose I have a bit on my mind, too." She answered finally. "My world has become sort of chaotic in the last couple of days."
Inuyasha nodded his agreement. "I keep expecting something else to jump out at us."
"I know what you mean." Kagome finished washing her hands and turned back toward Inuyasha. "It's like the phone's going to ring at any minute, or the doors going to fly open and who even knows what'll be on the other side."
The Companion gave a humorless chuckle of understanding, nodding. Neither of them spoke after that, but the silence was more comfortable than any between them in days. The girl couldn't help but marvel at the way some of the tension seemed to ease out of Inuyasha's expression as he stood there. Even his eyes. 'How in the world did they make those?' she wondered idly. And how did they manage to make him so expressive?
After a long moment, Kagome interrupted the quiet that had settled over them. "I think I'll be heading back to bed now," she told him, yawning behind her hand. "Who knows what might pop up tomorrow?"
"Goodnight," he wished her, taking the girl off guard. "And thanks. . . for still wanting to talk to me. I was just a little shocked to find out there was some other bastard out there with the same face as me."
"You're welcome," Kagome responded automatically before the full weight of his words hit her. The way he said that, like she hadn't experienced the exact same thing. 'Idiot!' her brain shouted at him, and a flush of anger welled up in her, only to dissolve almost immediately. 'If he doesn't realize that, then he must not see the resemblance.'
'Idiot,' she thought again more fondly.
"Goodnight, Inuyasha," she said, a smile splitting her face. "I'll see you in the morning."
*~*~*
Rin was finally asleep. She snuggled into Sesshomaru's side, oblivious to the fact that they huddled behind a dumpster in an alley of one of Tokyo's outlying suburbs. The girl's gentle breathing was deep and regular, her heart beat a steady thump to the youkai's sensitive ears. Sesshomaru listened to the steady sounds of her life rather than the more crass noise of the city, and wondered what he had done when he'd allowed her to follow him away from her father's compound.
He hadn't considered the situation as thoroughly as he ought to have. That fact had become readily apparent that morning when the girl had asked him with innocent trust plain on her face what she was going to have for breakfast.
In the end she had provided the answer herself, buying a peach at a small grocery store. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to bring what cash she had with her. But while her father may have been rich, her own funds were much more limited. The yen she had was not likely to last more than another two or three days.
Which meant Sesshomaru had to come up with a plan by then. But how the hell was a rogue youkai supposed to provide for a human?
Which led to another question that plagued him: was he truly rogue? He didn't know. It didn't seem so, but he had abandoned his lawful owner. Ryoko's command hadn't held him at all in the end. Yet, he had protected this girl. Was it his programming which had led him to do it? Or could it be something else?
Too many questions, and too few answers. His makers had been a strange lot; it could be that it was indeed his programming being obtuse, or it might have something to do with these emotions. While Taisho had been the most innovative of his development team, there had been others involved as well. A whole staff of them, and many of them as eccentric as he himself. Their names were filed away in Sesshomaru's memories now, most of them dead. Those who weren't were ancient by human standards. Higara Ichiyo: deceased. Konae Jiro: deceased. Saito Matsuo: institutionalized for senile dementia. Ito Toutousai: active.
Ito was the only one still alive and sane--presumably. Even in his youth, he hadn't been altogether rational. He was the only one who might have the answers Sesshomaru wanted.
Sesshomaru blinked, the only outward sign of his surprise. Ito Toutousai 'would' know the answers to his questions. Or at the very least, he might. Was there anything to prevent Sesshomaru from asking the old man in person?
Rin chose that moment to stir in her sleep, pressing her thin body closer to him as though seeking warmth. Sesshomaru removed his jacket and covered her with it. He was lucky it wasn't winter, but it still drove home the fact that he had to find a way to care for her. Sleeping in the streets was unacceptable.
He would have to discover a means of income, and a place to stay. That presented another problem. Just what was he qualified to do, assuming he could even find someone willing to pay him for the skills he had? For the past few decades, he had done very little other than entertain the fantasies of bored, rich hedonists. That wasn't a particularly high employment qualification, unless he felt like becoming a prostitute, which was out of the question. The very thought was repugnant.
He would find Ito Toutousai tomorrow, he decided. Perhaps once he understood what was going on better, he would have an idea what to do next.
*~*~*
Miroku woke up to the sun lancing through his bedroom window, striking him fully in the eyes. Groaning, the young man turned over, trying to deny the daylight invading his dark room. Normally he wasn't the kind of person who had to drag himself out of bed in the morning, but after two nights spent searching for any information on Inutaiyoukai and Kazaana, he found himself reluctant to leave the comfortable spot his body had made in the mattress.
After a few moments of wishing the clock wasn't insidiously flashing 7:39am, Miroku resigned himself to the fact that it was indeed time for him to get up. Going through his morning steps in a blurry, familiar haze, brushing his teeth, showering, and tying back his hair in its customary tail. Eying himself critically in the mirror, he mentally prepared himself for another long, boring day of fruitless internet searches. 'I've got a pile of repairs and orders to get to, also,' he thought, remembering the growing pile of work downstairs. 'Money and all. . .'
At least, it would give him something to do while Myouga accessed all the files he couldn't reach.
After he had gone through his morning habits, Miroku grabbed his first Dr Pepper fix of the day and headed downstairs to his workroom. Nothing had been touched here in two days. Tools and parts lay out where he abandoned them, and a small service youkai was left half-dissected on the workbench, its wires and motors spilling out of its casing. Glancing over the forms next to it, Miroku remembered that he'd been replacing one of the little thing's servos when Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippo had arrived with a very drugged anti-youkai activist. After that, finishing the repairs had sort of slipped Miroku's mind.
Picking up a screwdriver, he began pulling out more of the youkai's mechanical guts, trying to find the defective servo. It was a tricky part, which often went bad in this model after a few years. He'd had to replace more than one of them in the past.
The youkai itself was of good quality, made to look like a little girl of perhaps seven or so. Though not as realistic as some on the market, she would still fool the eye at a glance if it weren't for her pale, violet tinted hair and huge lavender eyes. It was actually a bit disturbing, now that he thought about it. He was absentmindedly tampering with a--a what? Person? Being? Entity?--with a thing that looked almost alive, and which could think and reason independently. Was she self-aware? There was no real knowing. He could not be sure.
Miroku forced himself to focus more on what he was doing. It seemed wrong not to be a little respectful. Inuyasha appeared in his mind, berating him for not paying attention while he had his hands were 'in' someone else. 'Would you like if your surgeon's mind was wandering? Keep your fucking mind on what you're doing, dumbass.'
"I need more sleep," Miroku muttered, pulling the defective motor out of the service youkai. "I'm hearing an ornery hanyou in my head. . . And I'm talking to myself."
The bell over the front door rang, snapping the young man's head up. Had he flipped the open sign this morning? He hadn't meant to, but he might have out of habit. Setting the child-like youkai aside, he wiped his hands off and pocketed his screwdriver before he made his way into the front show room, where he put one of his best smiles for whomever might be waiting for him.
Miroku's smile relaxed when he reached the door and caught a glimpse of the woman standing on the other side of the counter. The woman smiled back, the dazzling expression revealing perfectly even white teeth. His eyes traveled across her graceful curves in one sweep, taking in long, shapely legs, nice hips in a clingy, sheer skirt, a narrow waste and pleasantly rounded breasts, neither too big, nor too small. Her height and her auburn hair both marked her a Westerner. A pair of red tinted sunglasses obscured her eyes.
"May I help you, miss?" He asked solicitously.
That brilliant smile tilted to a flirtatious angle. "I think so," the woman said in a teasingly vague accent. He couldn't quite place it. "You're Iijima Miroku, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am indeed he. How may I be of service?"
"I'm looking for a specialty youkai. I heard you can find those for people sometimes," she told him, drawing abstract patterns on the glass counter top with her red painted nails. "I was thinking of a companion. Something good for keeping a girl company while she travels."
"Do you travel a lot, miss?" Miroku said, suddenly feeling a great deal more awake and optimistic. "I'm sure I can find something for you, but you know, sometimes it's nicest to have human friends abroad. Do you spend much time in Tokyo?"
Her nails stopped tracing, then tapped at the glazed surface in a way which seemed designed to draw attention to her finely wrought hands. "This is my first time in Japan," she admitted as though it embarrassed her. "It's an amazing country."
"Well, perhaps I could show you around," he offered smoothly, reaching out to take her hand almost without thinking about it. She threaded her fingers loosely through his, her smile growing wider.
"I think I'd like that," she replied, bowing her head demurely, but peaking at him over the rims of her rose colored glasses. The eyes that regarded him were saffron orange. Miroku's blood ran cold at the opacity of those inhumanly colored eyes.
Suddenly the woman's grip turned implacable, squeezing his own hand until the small bones seemed to creak in protest. Still smiling, she dug her painted nails into his skin.
*~*~*
A/N: Again, I apologize for the wait.
Until next time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Synthetic Emotions
"I bet you're not used to being confused," she said, glancing over her shoulder as she washed her chocolate milk-sticky hands in kitchen sink, carefully measuring the hanyou's reaction to her words.
Inuyasha shrugged, leaning against the counter top behind him. "So why couldn't you sleep?"
"I. . ." Kagome began, catching herself when she found she didn't know what she wanted to say. What was she supposed to tell him? She was afraid that he'd been thinking of Kikyo when he'd kissed her, and the thought made her restless and sick to her stomach? That didn't sound like the best course of action to her. "I suppose I have a bit on my mind, too." She answered finally. "My world has become sort of chaotic in the last couple of days."
Inuyasha nodded his agreement. "I keep expecting something else to jump out at us."
"I know what you mean." Kagome finished washing her hands and turned back toward Inuyasha. "It's like the phone's going to ring at any minute, or the doors going to fly open and who even knows what'll be on the other side."
The Companion gave a humorless chuckle of understanding, nodding. Neither of them spoke after that, but the silence was more comfortable than any between them in days. The girl couldn't help but marvel at the way some of the tension seemed to ease out of Inuyasha's expression as he stood there. Even his eyes. 'How in the world did they make those?' she wondered idly. And how did they manage to make him so expressive?
After a long moment, Kagome interrupted the quiet that had settled over them. "I think I'll be heading back to bed now," she told him, yawning behind her hand. "Who knows what might pop up tomorrow?"
"Goodnight," he wished her, taking the girl off guard. "And thanks. . . for still wanting to talk to me. I was just a little shocked to find out there was some other bastard out there with the same face as me."
"You're welcome," Kagome responded automatically before the full weight of his words hit her. The way he said that, like she hadn't experienced the exact same thing. 'Idiot!' her brain shouted at him, and a flush of anger welled up in her, only to dissolve almost immediately. 'If he doesn't realize that, then he must not see the resemblance.'
'Idiot,' she thought again more fondly.
"Goodnight, Inuyasha," she said, a smile splitting her face. "I'll see you in the morning."
*~*~*
Rin was finally asleep. She snuggled into Sesshomaru's side, oblivious to the fact that they huddled behind a dumpster in an alley of one of Tokyo's outlying suburbs. The girl's gentle breathing was deep and regular, her heart beat a steady thump to the youkai's sensitive ears. Sesshomaru listened to the steady sounds of her life rather than the more crass noise of the city, and wondered what he had done when he'd allowed her to follow him away from her father's compound.
He hadn't considered the situation as thoroughly as he ought to have. That fact had become readily apparent that morning when the girl had asked him with innocent trust plain on her face what she was going to have for breakfast.
In the end she had provided the answer herself, buying a peach at a small grocery store. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to bring what cash she had with her. But while her father may have been rich, her own funds were much more limited. The yen she had was not likely to last more than another two or three days.
Which meant Sesshomaru had to come up with a plan by then. But how the hell was a rogue youkai supposed to provide for a human?
Which led to another question that plagued him: was he truly rogue? He didn't know. It didn't seem so, but he had abandoned his lawful owner. Ryoko's command hadn't held him at all in the end. Yet, he had protected this girl. Was it his programming which had led him to do it? Or could it be something else?
Too many questions, and too few answers. His makers had been a strange lot; it could be that it was indeed his programming being obtuse, or it might have something to do with these emotions. While Taisho had been the most innovative of his development team, there had been others involved as well. A whole staff of them, and many of them as eccentric as he himself. Their names were filed away in Sesshomaru's memories now, most of them dead. Those who weren't were ancient by human standards. Higara Ichiyo: deceased. Konae Jiro: deceased. Saito Matsuo: institutionalized for senile dementia. Ito Toutousai: active.
Ito was the only one still alive and sane--presumably. Even in his youth, he hadn't been altogether rational. He was the only one who might have the answers Sesshomaru wanted.
Sesshomaru blinked, the only outward sign of his surprise. Ito Toutousai 'would' know the answers to his questions. Or at the very least, he might. Was there anything to prevent Sesshomaru from asking the old man in person?
Rin chose that moment to stir in her sleep, pressing her thin body closer to him as though seeking warmth. Sesshomaru removed his jacket and covered her with it. He was lucky it wasn't winter, but it still drove home the fact that he had to find a way to care for her. Sleeping in the streets was unacceptable.
He would have to discover a means of income, and a place to stay. That presented another problem. Just what was he qualified to do, assuming he could even find someone willing to pay him for the skills he had? For the past few decades, he had done very little other than entertain the fantasies of bored, rich hedonists. That wasn't a particularly high employment qualification, unless he felt like becoming a prostitute, which was out of the question. The very thought was repugnant.
He would find Ito Toutousai tomorrow, he decided. Perhaps once he understood what was going on better, he would have an idea what to do next.
*~*~*
Miroku woke up to the sun lancing through his bedroom window, striking him fully in the eyes. Groaning, the young man turned over, trying to deny the daylight invading his dark room. Normally he wasn't the kind of person who had to drag himself out of bed in the morning, but after two nights spent searching for any information on Inutaiyoukai and Kazaana, he found himself reluctant to leave the comfortable spot his body had made in the mattress.
After a few moments of wishing the clock wasn't insidiously flashing 7:39am, Miroku resigned himself to the fact that it was indeed time for him to get up. Going through his morning steps in a blurry, familiar haze, brushing his teeth, showering, and tying back his hair in its customary tail. Eying himself critically in the mirror, he mentally prepared himself for another long, boring day of fruitless internet searches. 'I've got a pile of repairs and orders to get to, also,' he thought, remembering the growing pile of work downstairs. 'Money and all. . .'
At least, it would give him something to do while Myouga accessed all the files he couldn't reach.
After he had gone through his morning habits, Miroku grabbed his first Dr Pepper fix of the day and headed downstairs to his workroom. Nothing had been touched here in two days. Tools and parts lay out where he abandoned them, and a small service youkai was left half-dissected on the workbench, its wires and motors spilling out of its casing. Glancing over the forms next to it, Miroku remembered that he'd been replacing one of the little thing's servos when Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippo had arrived with a very drugged anti-youkai activist. After that, finishing the repairs had sort of slipped Miroku's mind.
Picking up a screwdriver, he began pulling out more of the youkai's mechanical guts, trying to find the defective servo. It was a tricky part, which often went bad in this model after a few years. He'd had to replace more than one of them in the past.
The youkai itself was of good quality, made to look like a little girl of perhaps seven or so. Though not as realistic as some on the market, she would still fool the eye at a glance if it weren't for her pale, violet tinted hair and huge lavender eyes. It was actually a bit disturbing, now that he thought about it. He was absentmindedly tampering with a--a what? Person? Being? Entity?--with a thing that looked almost alive, and which could think and reason independently. Was she self-aware? There was no real knowing. He could not be sure.
Miroku forced himself to focus more on what he was doing. It seemed wrong not to be a little respectful. Inuyasha appeared in his mind, berating him for not paying attention while he had his hands were 'in' someone else. 'Would you like if your surgeon's mind was wandering? Keep your fucking mind on what you're doing, dumbass.'
"I need more sleep," Miroku muttered, pulling the defective motor out of the service youkai. "I'm hearing an ornery hanyou in my head. . . And I'm talking to myself."
The bell over the front door rang, snapping the young man's head up. Had he flipped the open sign this morning? He hadn't meant to, but he might have out of habit. Setting the child-like youkai aside, he wiped his hands off and pocketed his screwdriver before he made his way into the front show room, where he put one of his best smiles for whomever might be waiting for him.
Miroku's smile relaxed when he reached the door and caught a glimpse of the woman standing on the other side of the counter. The woman smiled back, the dazzling expression revealing perfectly even white teeth. His eyes traveled across her graceful curves in one sweep, taking in long, shapely legs, nice hips in a clingy, sheer skirt, a narrow waste and pleasantly rounded breasts, neither too big, nor too small. Her height and her auburn hair both marked her a Westerner. A pair of red tinted sunglasses obscured her eyes.
"May I help you, miss?" He asked solicitously.
That brilliant smile tilted to a flirtatious angle. "I think so," the woman said in a teasingly vague accent. He couldn't quite place it. "You're Iijima Miroku, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am indeed he. How may I be of service?"
"I'm looking for a specialty youkai. I heard you can find those for people sometimes," she told him, drawing abstract patterns on the glass counter top with her red painted nails. "I was thinking of a companion. Something good for keeping a girl company while she travels."
"Do you travel a lot, miss?" Miroku said, suddenly feeling a great deal more awake and optimistic. "I'm sure I can find something for you, but you know, sometimes it's nicest to have human friends abroad. Do you spend much time in Tokyo?"
Her nails stopped tracing, then tapped at the glazed surface in a way which seemed designed to draw attention to her finely wrought hands. "This is my first time in Japan," she admitted as though it embarrassed her. "It's an amazing country."
"Well, perhaps I could show you around," he offered smoothly, reaching out to take her hand almost without thinking about it. She threaded her fingers loosely through his, her smile growing wider.
"I think I'd like that," she replied, bowing her head demurely, but peaking at him over the rims of her rose colored glasses. The eyes that regarded him were saffron orange. Miroku's blood ran cold at the opacity of those inhumanly colored eyes.
Suddenly the woman's grip turned implacable, squeezing his own hand until the small bones seemed to creak in protest. Still smiling, she dug her painted nails into his skin.
*~*~*
A/N: Again, I apologize for the wait.
Until next time.