Experiment

Prologue

He assessed the building through narrowed eyes, pushing raven hair – greasy from lack of a wash – out of his face.

Clean.

Granted his vocabulary wasn't particularly spectacular, but it was the only word that he could think of to describe it.

The building towered several stories before him, thick sheets of glass melded into clean steel. It had to be at least ten stories tall. Window washers could be seen balancing precariously on scaffolds, each at a different floor window. They sprayed the cleaner, the liquid a bluish-green, before wiping it off quickly with long poles, with soft cloth attached to the end. Each newly cleaned window seemed to sparkle like a clear gem in the sun. The young man squinted his eyes to peer through the slightly darker glass that made up the ground level walls. Even through the glass, he could see the cleanliness of the inside.

Comfortable couches made of dark leather littered the lounge. People of all ages sat on the firm material. Some sat primly, uncomfortable with the leather as it clung to the bare skin of their arms. Others lounged about, almost dozing. Children giggled, a few playing with the toy cars that the building administrators had provided, most sitting on the uncomfortable couches, looking around with wide eyes.

Near the end of the room, not far from an array of steel doors was a reception desk made of silver steel and white, almost flawless, marble. A young woman, with long, black hair coiled into a tight bun, sat at the reception desk looking clean and professional. She occasionally smiled and laughed at the young man standing next to her. He looked every bit as clean as she did. Both wore olive-colored lab coats.

He almost felt guilty as he watched the couple, both nearly oblivious to the people that bustled in the building. Most of them wore lab coats, usually a crisp white in color. Some waved cheerfully at the pair. The young man and woman nodded back politely, but continued to talk. It wasn't until an elderly woman, grasping the hand of a struggling child, approached them that they stopped talking. The young woman smiled softly at the child, a young boy with a shock of red hair, before turning her attention to the older woman. Through the window, the silent, grubby observer watched her lips form the words 'Can I help you?'

He turned his head away to glance at the bronze plaque attached to the glass door. 'Nemurashi Healthcare and Laboratories' was etched in black on the reddish metal.

The young man, labeled as an outcast by his classmates and punk by the rest of Japan, clenched his hand around the paper. He almost didn't want to go in. By going in, he would taint the building's cleanliness. When he approached the reception desk, dirt from his hands would smear its pristine whiteness if he dared to touch it (and he probably would, out of spite, if nothing else). The girl's friendly expression would change to one of disgust. Although he was used to it by now, sometimes it was almost too much to bear.

But…..

He closed his eyes at the two faces that suddenly flashed into his mind, unbidden. Both were female, both full of love and worry.

Worry for him.

He shook his head to clear himself of the images. He had to go through with this. After all, those two no longer existed in his world. Oh, how he wished they still did, but it was their choice. He wanted, at the very least, to laugh and talk with them again. To kiss her again. To protect them both...just one more time. Yet, despite how much he wanted it, how much he yearned for it, it would not be. They wanted no part in what he was about to do. He could still remember the look of hurt that had crossed their faces when he had told them of his decision.

The hurt and pained look had been identical on both faces. They both bore the agonized look of suffering betrayal by a loved one.

No, he couldn't back out of this now. He had sacrificed their trust, friendship, and love. If he backed out now it would all have been for nothing. If he backed out now he would be doomed to face a life of……

Violet eyes blinked in surprise at the sudden halt of his own thoughts. What would his life be like if he just left? Even as he wracked his brain for some sort of answer, bitter thoughts suddenly surfaced, answering his own question. You'll be nothing. Just another worthless bum that wanders the streets with no one that cares. A memory of a voice suddenly invaded his thoughts. A musical voice, with an owner that had waves of raven locks and solemn gray eyes.

Do you want to stay on the dregs of society forever?

Once again, the young man shook his head to banish her image from his mind. She was gone, they both were, and yet… The thought, the torture, of living his old life without the two things that were most important to him was more then enough to steel his determination. The thought that maybe they would forgive him if he simply left now never entered his stubborn mind. Yet now that it did, he quickly banished it from his mind with the same ease that he had banished their images. To think about such a thing was pointless. Even though he would be with them, would it really be worth it? He would be living in the streets, he was no longer able to afford the uniforms for school; and he would rather die then live on the help of another.

His tight fist unclenched as the grubby, dark-haired man reached up to push the clean, silver handle of the glass doors. The paper he had grasped fell to the pavement with a soft rustle, a cool breeze gently pushing it away.

A slight smudge of dirt and grime tainted the handle a light charcoal as his hand left it. It would go unnoticed by the Health Center's clients, but the young man's grungy appearance would not. Many of them stopped leafing through the magazines to stare openly. Who was this grungy punk to just walk in like this? The faint whispers drifted to his ears, but he ignored them. Children pointed and stared.

"Obaa-chan?" Violet eyes darted to their corners as a childlike voice seemed to stand above the rest, almost demanding to be heard. The young man recognized the owner; it was the red-headed boy and the elderly woman from earlier. The young boy was also pointing and tugging insistently at the woman's purse. "Why is he so dirty?"

The young man's jaw set into a firm, angry line at the child's innocent question. Even someone so young noticed him for what he was, a bum. One that would forever be on the dregs of society. One that had no control over his own future. He focused on the reception desk in an attempt to block out everything else as the old woman hushed her grandson, scolding him for pointing while, at the same time, sending the young man a pitying glance that grated on his nerves.

The whispers almost seemed to grow louder around him as he neared the desk. It was as though these people were trying to suffocate him with their scorn and pity. Violet eyes narrowed darkly, his anger started to grow, almost to the point of eruption; but then the receptionist, having noticed his presence, turned away from talking to her companion and smiled at him.

It was her bright, friendly smile that caused his anger to dissipate like a puff of smoke. Why was she smiling? He studied her dark eyes, searching for the subtle hints of pity or distaste.

He found none. Only a genuine, happy sparkle reflected in the orbs, a purple that was only a shade lighter then his own. It left the young man feeling confused. He was too used to seeing dislike and hatred in the eyes of others as they judged him. The confusion only lasted for a moment, however, as the young man quickly decided that this woman had seen too many sob cases like him during she spent at the Health Center. She was probably just better at masking her dislike then most. Either that or she was immune to it by now.

"Can I help you?"

The pleasant inquiry brought his confusion back and halted the bitter thoughts that were milling inside of him. It was like a blow to the face, and left him feeling unsure…..about everything. He opened his mouth to speak. It was best not to dwell on these matters and just get it over with.

"I-I…I have an appointment." He cursed himself for the shaky stutters. Why the hell was he stuttering?! He never stuttered!

"Name?"

"Inuyasha." Good, his voice sounded stronger.

"Last name?"

"Just Inuyasha."

If the raven-haired woman found it odd that he wouldn't give his last name she didn't show it. She only typed his name into the keyboard in front of her. Inuyasha glanced at the scrawled letters of her nametag, a little curious as to what type of name this woman had. (Although he couldn't even begin to guess why.) The engraved letters 'Sango' glinted in the harsh light.

'Sango' pressed the enter key with a resounding tap. She studied the glowing screen with interest, a little surprised at the nature that the description of Inuyasha's appointment held.

"This is interesting." She murmured. Sango turned to the man that was standing next to her, silently waiting for her to finish. She chewed on the bottom of her lip, almost worriedly, before looking up to speak. "Miro-,"

His name died on her lips when she looked up into his deep blue pools. Miroku was watching her with an intensity that caused her cheeks darken with a slight blush. Clearing her throat, and desperately trying to cool down her rising blush, Sango averted her eyes and handed him a red key card.

"Take him to see the doctor…." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced nervously at the woman that stood behind Inuyasha waiting patiently in the growing line. Many were starting to look impatient. After all the Health Care's policy was to have the clients sign in before sitting down to wait. Sango grimaced mentally when she thought of Nemurashi's extravagant list of cliental. If any of them ever found out…

Miroku watched Sango's eyes dart around before she lowered her voice, the sound barely loud enough for his ears to catch. He watched the nervous darting of her eyes curiously.

"Take him to the Fifth Floor Labs."

The slight curiosity that had been growing in Miroku's blue eyes quickly vanished, and he merely nodded. Moving away from the desk, he motioned for Inuyasha to follow. Looking between the two with masked nervousness, Inuyasha followed the other man through a pair of steel, double doors and into a deserted hallway. The suddenly nervous nature of the friendly receptionist was almost as confusing as her good nature. Not to mention a little odd. It almost seemed like they were trying to hide something, but why…and what?

Miroku stopped the elevator and pressed the silver button. A faint 'ding' could be heard from above, alerting the two men to the fact that the elevator was a few floors away from them, most likely dropping people off.

Not one to stand still quietly for very long, Inuyasha's eyes started to wander before they stopped on a black screen with red digital letters and numbers running across it. Not really sure of what else to do, (and nearly bored out of his mind for having to wait for the elevator) he read the red words on the screen.

Floors 1 & 2: Pediatric Care

Floor 3: Dental Care

Floors 4 – 15: Specialty Labs

Inuyasha had just finished reading Floor 4: Trans Gender when a loud 'ding' sounded above his ears, the elevator announcing its arrival. His eyes quickly left the screen, and he followed Miroku onto the elevator.

If Inuyasha had been the type of person that was more observant of details, he might have noticed the grim set of Miroku's features.

If he had been a faster reader, he might have been able to read what the Fifth Floor labs held in store for him. If he had read a little faster, the dark-haired man might have been surprised to read the words, Genetic Experimentation, glowing back at him on the black screen.