Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha OR Bonnie McKee's very sad but sweet lyrics...

A/N: This chapter introduces Koshi, a well meaning guy of the Feudal Era who, on sight, is smitten with Kagome ((grins) C'mon they all are, and we know it! I just had to write it...) It also explains the samurais and such, who they are, what they're like...remember Namaru guys, he'll be back playing a larger role still in the next few chapters...particularly Chapter 10 called: "She's Alive." Can you guess what THAT one's about? Hmm? Yes...next chapter Kagome/Sakana idly uses the dreaded S-word...hehe...I had fun writing the next two chapters, but this one's just gotta come first.

That's all for now ladies and gents, I'm sorry to say that due to my expanding schedule and Homecoming last week and such, I've been unable to write much, fix my computer, update, or anything...(BIG sigh). It's play practice. We have it from now on until March sometime. Also my choral stuff is catching up to me too...and scholarships, and graduation, and friends and guys...(More sighs)...but things WILL get better later in March, I promise, b/c then the play is OVER! (screams!) Also I am making progress on So Much For The Hanyou's Happy Ending...I have nearly enough chapters with it to start posting. As for what I'm going to call it...(shrugs) I haven't the foggiest idea, but traditionally I name my stories after songs...(well, the last two of them I did anyway...) Does anyone have a good song title that would work for a story name too? Well as always, drop me a line...I apologize for my lack of time...(sighs) I'm so apathetic about life sometimes...I'm sorry...but reviews would encourage me...God knows I wouldn't have been able to finish So Much For The Hanyou's Happy Ending if it hadn't been for all of YOU guys and the steady encouragement...seriously! (cries!) I LOVE hearing from you guys...(sniffles...)

Good Days Gone

"Memories haunting my evenings

Eyes watching me through the moon

I hope my good days aren't over

Not so soon…"

The samurai sneered at Koshi through his blocky helmet. To the young man the samurai warrior was enlarged a thousand times by such armor, by the honor and power associated with it. Only demons could wield more power it was whispered…perhaps that was why the samurais that had come with their wounded to the small village were so nervous. The Red Demon that'd attacked them only a night ago while they were camping—killing five of their number—had followed their small party to the village…

Koshi took the reins of the horse from the samurai timidly, bowing his head as the warrior dismounted the animal, still glaring with disgust on the younger man. "Miserable slave boy," the man snarled, spitting at Koshi before he turned away and began to walk toward this village's local healer's hut—his name was Mijai, Koshi was told.

Koshi wasn't really a slave to the samurais; he'd been taken in because his mother was the youngest sister of the samurai Warlord's wife. That Warlord, by the name of Lord Tsimiski, had summoned the boy into service when his parents had both been killed by demons. But Koshi wasn't old enough or strong enough to be proper samurai material—thus he became something of a page, a message runner, a helper. A slave. But in truth Koshi didn't mind it much—most of the samurais were arrogant and some even cruel—but some were actually friendly and treated him like a younger brother or even a son.

Unfortunately for Koshi of the five samurais he'd been sent with on this mission to save their wounded men, four of them were complete jerks; only one was worth talking to at all. The worst of the group was the one he'd just accepted the horse from, an arrogant archer named Namaru.

Koshi pulled gently on the horse's reins and led it toward the village's gate where several other samurai horses were tethered. Patiently Koshi tied the horse beside the others and flung a little hay for them to eat from the village's storages, then he found the bristle brush used to comb out the horses and began to comb out the debris and kinks from the all the horses' manes and tails.

As he worked the sun moved from its zenith overhead and dipped slowly toward the horizon in the west. The men and women of the village came and went around Koshi, some throwing him curious glances, but most completely ignoring him. Soon the horses were completely cleaned and Koshi decided to see if the healer would let him help with the wounded.

When they'd first come Koshi had been stricken and panicked from the Red Demon's attack. About five years ago his parents and younger sister had been slaughtered by wolf demons—so seeing the creature with the amber eyes and the ears atop its head—had turned him into a simpleton, with nothing but fear and terror on the mind. When the beast had attacked he could've grabbed a bow and arrow and shot at it with the other archers like Namaru, but instead he'd stood, still as stone in terror. He regretted that now. Unlike Namaru, who was only average with the bow and arrows, Koshi had one of the finest eyes for archery in Lord Tsimiski's whole lot of samurais…had he shot at the creature…but Koshi shrugged that thought off. He couldn't afford to let guilt drag him down now…

But if I'd moved just a little faster than maybe…

That was true. One of the warriors who was now critically injured had been his father figure among the samurais. His name was Hekamino, and unlike most of the other warriors he'd become a samurai in much the same was Koshi was—by hard work and sweat, building himself from nothing more than a peasant with a dream. But now he was old—he'd lost his hair years ago, and his beard had turned white. The skin around his eyes had crinkled with age. Hekamino was still strong in battle and in spirit especially, but Koshi could only pray that the older man survived his wounds…otherwise it would be the second father he'd lost in his short sixteen years of life…

Koshi reached the healer's hut and slipped in quietly. Namaru and another samurai were standing over the futon of one of their wounded comrades—it wasn't Hekamino. It was Fuyui—a fat slob of a samurai. If he lived but Hekamino died, Koshi thought he might be sick. Life just wasn't fair! He looked around the room and spotted the other two wounded samurais. One was named Dikana and he'd been slashed across the chest by the Red Demon's claws. If his wounds didn't fester with infection the man had a chance of survival, but it was already looking bleak—the healer Mijai was standing over Dikana, patting his forehead with a moistened cloth. If Dikana had a fever than he was done for.

Like Dikana, Hekamino had been slashed, but his slashes were on the arm, neck, and shoulder of his left side. As Koshi stared at Hekamino's heavy bandages he felt a lump of fear form in his throat—the healer had put a moistened cloth over Hekamino's head as well, meaning his wounds were infected and causing a fever just as Dikana's were…they would likely both die…

Fuyui groaned then and cursed vehemently, the samurais standing over him laughed. "Fuyui, you old bastard, you're just faking…" the warrior beside Namaru snickered. His words were true enough, Koshi thought, looking at the wounds of Hekamino and Dikana in comparison with Fuyui's. Fat and slovenly Fuyui had been closest to the fire when the Red Demon had attacked, he'd been gloating over the food. When the beast had attacked it'd slashed those farthest from the fire to kill them, and merely knocked aside and cut those closer. Fuyui hand merely been kicked backward, and when he landed he'd broken his collarbone. The pain had knocked him unconscious, making the other samurais wonder if he'd had a concussion, thus they'd brought him to the healer…

Mijai looked up then from attending to Dikana's wounds and fever and saw Koshi. "May I help you?" he asked, quietly.

Those words, innocent as they were, brought on the attention of Namaru, who turned and sneered disgustedly at the young man. "Koshi!" he snarled, "You sniveling little puke! Cowards like you shouldn't disgrace this place of fallen heroes!"

Koshi forced himself to remain stoic and unaffected by the words. On past occasions had he shown any emotion whatsoever Namaru would beat him fiercely. The name-calling was a test of Koshi's strength and intelligence, of his ability to control himself—but it was also just sport for Namaru, who had a bit of a twisted mind. After years with these men Koshi had learned their ways—mostly through beatings and pain, but he was a quick student, pain had a way of teaching like nothing else could.

"I was concerned for them, is there any way that I can help, sirs?" he offered, keeping his voice light, quiet, and inoffensive.

Namaru's companion grunted, "Good boy, I'll bet there's something to be done…" but Namaru slugged the other man roughly, silencing him.

"This snot doesn't deserve to help. When the demon attacked he stood still and wet himself even though Lord Tsimiski claims he has the sharpest eyes in all of Japan!" he laughed raucously, "They're wounded while he walks. If we were half the men we should be we'd have cut the stupid lout down and given him to the damned demon!"

Koshi made the mistake of opening his mouth to object to this cruelty and Namaru's hands immediately flew to his sword sheath, "Ah, look, he agrees!"

Startled Koshi stepped backward and out of the healer's hut, Namaru's harsh laughter rining in his ears, in his skull…he fought tears abruptly, much to his shame, and then his fists clenched and he turned away from the hut, walking stiff-leggedly away. I'm sorry Mother, Father, and especially Hekamino…I've failed you…

He walked through the bustling village half in a daze until he found himself at the village's gates. It was sunset. The air was warmer than it had been the night before and humid. Dew was beginning to collect on the grass. Koshi looked to the sky and saw the brilliant streaks of gold and pink rising out of the west where the fiery sun was kissing the horizon. Without explanation he felt a calmness entering his soul, a strange tranquility, a peace…

And then his eyes landed on a strange girl wearing a short green and white kimono…she was standing beside the gates of the village, staring out into the open rice fields and crops the villagers had planted as both food and a source of income. Her long black hair was fluffy with a look of cleanliness; it flowed about her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She was leaning on the opened gates, fingering a golden chain about her neck that ended with a few shimmering purple gems. They caught the fading sunlight and flashed before Koshi's eyes, dazzling him.

Koshi's stomach fluttered, his palms broke out in a sweat, his face suddenly burned, and the rest of the world had faded around him completely…

He'd fallen in love before he could even blink.

Tentatively he stepped forward until he was standing beside her, forcing his eyes off her and onto the rice fields. Slowly he sighed, as if fatigued and stretched a little, hoping she was watching…he was uncertain but he thought that her gaze had slid toward him and lingered for a moment, observing, taking him in…he prayed silently that she liked what she saw. Koshi knew he wasn't the greatest specimen among samurais, but among common villagers he was a fine catch. His hair was an almost disarming light brown that, although cropped short above his shoulders, bushed at odd angles to frame his face uniquely. His eyes were large, friendly, and brown. Physically he was an average male height, lean and lithe. No hulky samurai but a slim archer or assassin. He'd often wondered if Namaru, who was squinty-eyed and scarred from battle, harassed him so because Koshi was far better looking.

He cleared his throat, trying to be suave and smooth, "Beautiful night, isn't it?" he hated the way his voice wasn't low, like a cat's purr. He'd seen the samurais flirt with gorgeous willow-like women in the larger cities, princesses and courtesans, women he'd never dream of approaching. They were like the stuff of dreams, heavenly creatures, bright white faces on some of them, adorned by silken kimonos worth more than Koshi's own life! And always the samurais had turned their voices low and sultry, trying to seduce the women with their words alone. From what Koshi had seen it usually worked. But his voice wasn't of the same quality, age, or experience. He restrained a frown at himself and instead forced a warm smile at the young maiden.

Slowly she nodded, but she only threw him the briefest of courteous smiles before turning her attention once more to the necklace she wore. Koshi stared at it a moment too. It was a strange thing: he saw that it wasn't in fact some simple purple gem at the end; it was a tiny glass container holding several small purple gems. Was it a family heirloom?

Koshi stepped forward, squinting at the necklace, "That's really…pretty…" he murmured, uncertainly.

The girl looked up at him more keenly now. Her brown eyes were wide but sad. She didn't seem to be staring at him; rather she was looking through him, as if she couldn't see him. Koshi felt his stomach tighten in anxiety.

"I don't know what they are." She whispered.

Koshi blinked, confused, "What do you mean…?"

The girl seemed to shake her head and regain her wits. Her eyes focused on him and she appeared to have suddenly stepped back into reality. "I found this in the river today. It…I was drawn to it…"

That was strange—had Koshi been smitten with the village weirdo? He shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, "How do you mean?"

Slowly she shook her head, her eyes flew to the necklace again, "I…" she sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. I don't belong here."

"You mean by the gate?"

"No, I mean in this village. They pulled me from the river a week ago…and I can't remember anything since waking with the healer. Not even my name…" she turned away from him and dropped the necklace, her gaze was pulled to the fields where she stared, dazedly.

Koshi wasn't sure what to think, whether to believe her and take her word or to think she was just crazy…but the gems in her necklace were real—and strange enough to give it some credibility. At any rate the healer could easily check the girl's validity. If what she said was true than the healer was surely still caring for her, she'd stay with him in his home…with the samurais…and suddenly Koshi wished that she were lying. Staying in the same hut as the samurais meant that the girl was close to Namaru, and Koshi didn't like that idea in the least.

He swallowed nervously and forced his eyes away from the beautiful maiden, pursing his lips. He decided to change the subject. "There's a lot of demons around here nowadays…" he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the girl was looking at him again, his words had recaptured her attention, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling with nervousness, "The samurais have been talking of hiring demon slayers."

The girl nodded, and after a moment ventured to ask, "Are you with the samurais then?" he noted that her tone while asking of the samurais hinted at negative feelings toward them. Koshi bit his lip and thought of lying to her but knew that such a thing would only make things worse.

"Yes, I am. My name's Koshi Asatsuki." He offered her as genuine and charming of a smile as he could, "My uncle is Lord Tsimiski." He did his best to beam with pride at that, and, of course, failed to mention that they were only related through distant marriage.

The girl dipped her head quietly in acknowledgement and tried to smile, but Koshi could see it was weak—she wasn't happy. "I'd tell you what my name was and who my parents were and that sort of thing," she blinked a moment and then came up with a name for him right on the spot, "Koshi-sama, but I can't remember anything." Her fist tightened over the strange necklace and Koshi looked away, his expression dark and unfathomable.

"I'm sorry…" he started, but she interrupted him.

"But they call me Sakana here, because I was pulled from the river. You can call me that."

Koshi nodded; trying to keep his face from betraying the surprise he felt that the villagers called such a pretty girl fish. "I'd be honored."

Perched on Miroku's shoulder, Shippo was shivering in misery. For something close to a week he, Miroku, Sango, and Kilala had set about tracking down Inuyasha. But that was far easier said than done. The hanyou traveled mainly through the trees, if those were available, making him nigh on impossible to trail by scent or by prints. Without really meaning to Inuyasha had left his friends far behind and had covered all his tracks very well.

Sango couldn't help but wonder if the hanyou did it on purpose…

But through persistence, and frequent harassment of the two youkai with them—Kilala and Shippo—they'd managed to track Inuyasha to the plains. Of course they knew little of how long he'd been there, whether he'd made a beeline straight for the flat ground outside of the mountainous forest, or perhaps if he was just wandering aimlessly. They knew of no way to predict where he might go—unless it was to the river or the nearest village. None of them were certain what his next move might be.

But he was on the plains. That much they were certain of—they'd seen evidence that he was wild, or so they thought. On a field at the edge of the forest Shippo and Kilala had both smelled samurais—or rather, what was left of them. Several had been cut down on the spot, sitting around their fires. Inuyasha's scent lingered amongst the dead heavily. But it seemed to have happened a day or so ago—the scents were quickly fading. The battleground was so frayed that Shippo and Kilala couldn't tell where Inuyasha had gone after the attack. He was once more missing—which likely meant that the hanyou had left via the trees and the forest.

"Well," Shippo sighed unhappily when the fragmented group settled nearby the scene of Inuyasha's apparent crime, lighting a fire and making camp for the night, "What do we do now?"

There was silence around the small fire. From his place on Miroku, Shippo sighed again, thoroughly depressed. The group hadn't been the least bit happy since Kagome's death—Shippo doubted that they'd ever be right again…and Inuyasha was out there somewhere in the night, wild and untamable once again, which was as frightening as Naraku ever was. The jewel shards were also unaccounted for. Who knew what kind of terrible creature was gloating over them, seeking them, using them greedily to strengthen their powers and to kill innocents, both youkai and human alike?

Shippo shivered.

Sango spoke up then, abruptly answering the little kit's question, although the time to do so had long since passed, "Isn't there a village nearby? Perhaps we should go there…"

Miroku looked up, bumping Shippo about a little with the movement, "Why to a village, Sango?"

"Well…" she paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, "Think about it Miroku: a village is the most likely place for anything to happen. If Inuyasha has gone completely feral he might attack the village for food. If some other demon finds the shards and empowers itself with them it'll attack the nearest place to the river—and that's the village."

Miroku was nodding slowly, "Yes, my dear Sango," the words were idly said, the monk was actually in deep thought and not trying to embarrass the demon slayer, but nonetheless she blushed red and looked away when Miroku spoke again, "I think that makes sense…but there's also the samurai castle on the other side of the mountains…"

Sango looked back at him now, an angry expression clearly written all over her face, "You just want to go there because there will be pretty princesses and courtesans for you to pop your ridiculous question to." she snarled. Shippo, still on the monk's shoulder, nodded, rolling his green eyes.

Miroku appeared genuinely surprised, but only for a moment. "Actually I suggested it because demons are perhaps even more likely to attack samurais. With their arrogance the samurais are despised by youkai, are they not?"

"I don't know. Demons generally don't care who they attack. I've helped just as many poor and weak villages as I have rich lords and stuck up samurai warriors." Sango shrugged, "But I believe the village is a better place to try in regards to Inuyasha."

Slowly Miroku sighed, "It's not as far to the village as it is to the castle from here. You're right Sango…" he paused, bluish eyes sparkling in the firelight, "But I wonder why Inuyasha attacked these samurais…and would he trail them afterwards?"

This time Shippo answered, jumping from Miroku's shoulder to sit beside the small fire, looking between the monk and the demons slayer as he spoke, "I know why he did it."

The humans looked down at the kitsune with bafflement, "You do?" they asked at once.

Shippo nodded, "They were roasting meat over their fires. Inuyasha could probably smell it for miles away…"

Sango looked skeptical, "Could it be that simple?"

Miroku threw the demon slayer a sly look, "Didn't you ever notice how ravenously Inuyasha ate whenever Kagome…" his voice died, strangling itself about then as both Sango and Shippo, even Kilala lowered their eyes, each averting the other's gaze. Miroku bit his lips and cursed himself silently. The conversation was dead, as dead as the meat Inuyasha had stolen from the samurais, as dead as the samurais who'd gotten in the hungry hanyou's way.

As dead as Kagome was now…

Sorry to end on such a negative sounding note, but we all really know she's not dead for real, she just doesn't remember...hehe...I have to go now and post or it'll never get done! I hope you enjoyed this one...leave me a review! (whimpers, begs) I'm sorry (seriously I am, I want to quit but I can't, as a senior it's my last play I just kinda HAVE to be in it even though I hate it...) for my schedule's tightness, I hate my extracurricular activities...(cries)...but enough of my whining eh? See you later...