Author's Notes: Well, this is my first *real* story. All I have to say is it's an AU, definitely. That's... really all I have to say. Please, read, and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and all affiliated concepts and characters are not mine. Although, sometimes I like to pretend...

Revolutions: Part I; Prologue

~Tokyo, Japan: Present Time~

Really, now. How did she get into these things?

The weather was a nip colder than it ought to have been for this time of month, but that hadn't slowed down Eri's party in the slightest, still roaring at the end of her street with lights glaring in the windows and voices mingling. No one had called the cops on them yet, but the hour was late enough and the volume high enough that they could break it up any minute. Finding, of course, a whole lot of under aged drunks hanging over the railing and getting sick in the washroom. All in all, it wasn't Kagome's usual environment. She'd only gone because it was Eri's sweet sixteen, and a whole lot of cajoling and whining had taken place to get her here at her friend's brother's place complete with a slew of older strangers and a few kegs in the mix.

Of course, when Eri had finally managed to box her into coming (with blackmail) she hadn't really imagined the evening would end quite like this. She'd figured she'd stay awhile, long enough to satisfy her friends, then she'd be on her way home and happier that way. Things have a frustrating habit of not going as planned, though. Instead of climbing the excruciatingly large amount of steps to her temple home, she was sprinting as fast as she was able through the tougher parts of the city with a disabling stitch in her side. She took a corner quickly, splashing through a puddle as she went and sloughing brownish stains all over her nice skirt, but she wasn't worried about that at the moment. Her ears were straining for any sound of her pursuers.

Yep, they were still behind her, swearing a blue streak and crashing into cans. She pumped her arms faster, despairing at the realization that she was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't possibly keep this pace.

Damn Eri. Damn birthdays. Damn Eri's brother and his sick drug-dealing friends. This sucked.

Kagome took another corner and nearly burst into tears. Her stitch and pace had just become obsolete: she'd met up with a wall, a dead end, no exit, finis, done. She turned slightly just in time to see three greasy older guys stumble in right behind her.

"Well, gurlie... you gave us quite the chase... I hope you're a good enough... fuck to be worth it..." the middle one panted. Kagome shuffled back, her eyes darting from one face to the other, looking for any way out. She could try dodging around them, but that didn't look promising... screaming for help probably wouldn't bring much. If the news was any indication, this area was used to screaming. Maybe she could talk her way out...?

"Listen, I'm a friend of Eri's... please..." her voice was shaky and pathetic, even to her own ears. Really, this couldn't be happening to her. This was some one else, it had to be.

"Are we supposed to know who the fuck 'Eri' is?" the third piped up. They were advancing, slowly, and they were tall... they were so big... she fell back again, tears springing to her eyes.

"Her brother... that was his place... the party, it was for her..." her voice was rising in pitch too, giving away her panic almost effectively as her wild eyes did. She stepped further back and bumped an aluminum can. It clattered to the ground, making her scream and jump.

"We were just there because shit was going down. Don't know who the fuck 'Eri' or her brother are," the first told her, his lips curved into a smirk. Kagome's legs trembled and gave out, letting her flop to the ground. They were still advancing, making her feel claustrophobic, and she knew there was no way out now. She screamed for help but her attackers just laughed, unperturbed, knowing it was going to get her nowhere. She called for anybody, her throat raw and hoarse as the first man pushed her down flailing madly, ripped her shirt, pulled at her skirt. The other two circled around, roughly pinning her arms above her head, spreading her legs, and nothing she tried worked -- she just wasn't strong enough.

Then, the hands around her wrists were loosened, gone, a flurry of voices and sudden motion. She was left alone, panting, tears scalding her cheeks as her exposed chest rose and fell in harsh pants. She heard a cry, an angry shout, the clattering of garbage cans. Her lips moved in a murmur, still repeating help even as she lay limp on the ground trying weakly to gather her own scattered terrified thoughts.

She blinked, pulled herself up and huddled in an instinctive curl to ward off attack (ineffectively). Her fingers numbly clutched at the tattered remnants of her shirt, pulling it together over her breasts as she realized that it was quiet now. Apparently, her sense of time was off.

What felt to her to be seconds must have been longer. Her attackers were gone completely, and all that was left was a strange young boy with long dark hair and golden eyes. She blinked up, her fear still pounding at her temples, her shirt barely covering her and her skirt ripped and exposing her thighs and panties. Decency and embarrassment weren't on the forefront of her mind. More the relief that she wasn't going to turn up dead in an alley the next morning completely naked. She wasn't thinking clearly, she distantly recognized, but she didn't really care. All that mattered was they were gone, and who cares if she didn't know this boy or if he possibly had bad intentions, he had saved her and he had golden eyes and that was all that mattered.

Still in shock, still trembling, she started to cry.

God, he hated it when women cried.

~Neo Tokyo, Japan: Year 3018~

War ravaged lands were all that lay beyond the city, up until the ocean which fell against the contaminated beeches regularly. There were no people about, not if they could help it, and what few did move among the husks of buildings centuries old wore full rubber body suits complete with cooling units to ward of the summer heat and gas masks to filter the poisonous air. Most of the city's denizens could be found in the city core, traversing the tunnels underground through the complexes to go about their work or home lives.

Commander Koryu was a rigid man, strictly adhering to rules and posture, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the rubble of a dying civilization. The Revolutions building was circular, a dome on the top floor protruding out and allowing a viewpoint into the world above, the world that once was. Koryu himself was very angular, with a sharp nose and jaw and small, dark eyes. He was dangerous, both in impression and reality, and all who were even remotely familiar with his name knew it.

"One day, Satomo, this will all change."

"Yes, sir."

Behind him the room stretched out, lounge chairs clustered about tables and a bar at the back signifying that this was a casual room. Like all rooms in the complex, leisure or not, it had a large clock mounted on each wall that displayed red-dyed digital numbers. Sometimes the screen was silent. Today, a countdown tumbled, currently at 39 minutes 14 seconds.

"One day, you'll see our world just like in those history texts. We'll have all the old modern conveniences, eh, and maybe a few new ones?" Koryu turned, a wry little grin on his lips, sharing a private joke with the soldier behind him. It only took a few seconds for the soldier to realize that yes, this is a joke and then he too cracked a smile, privately terrified of such drastic change like some are. Very few lived that remembered the world as it was before the third and greatest war. Men like Satomo and Koryu only knew of that distant reality through the stories and texts passed down from old times, mostly transcribed onto data films and available on the WWFS Network.

31 minutes, 57 seconds. The Revolutions building was still and silent, most technicians on hand and ready for the reentry that was being counted down, the handlers standing guard by the door. Koryu himself was no required to be present, but he usually liked to keep on eye on things when the countdown got a little closer.

"The Revolutions project is a beacon of hope to the people. Their fate quite literally rests on our shoulders. One day, we'll making every last fucking thing right again. That'll definitely put a dent in the history books, wouldn't you say?"

30 minutes, 00 seconds.

And the world is always revolving.

Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed. I know it's short, but it's just a prologue. Please leave a review and let me know what you think... should I continue?