A/N: First chapter, much confusion. Probably.

Psychobabble

Chapter One

Familiar Strangers

It was around 3:00 a.m. in the morning when Furugawa's house went up in smoke. The pungent smell of the fire had dragged the neighbors out of their sleep, and when they called the police it was probably too late. When the police and the ambulance and the fire department came, Furugawa was already declared dead and people gathered across his house to watch the spectacle, riveted by the singeing roof and the collapsing walls. They covered their petrified expressions in terror with cold, numb fingers. It could have been them, they thought darkly. The light from the police cars and ambulances illuminated their terrified expressions phosphorescently.

Everyone knew Furugawa had been a heavy smoker, and it wouldn't have been a surprise if he had left a cigarette burning all night long. He was also a drunkard and would've been a careless waste of a human being if he hadn't been one of the top officials in the government. And people would've surmised that it had been just a freak accident if it hadn't been for what they saw on the stretcher.

Obviously his face would have been burnt and his body ravaged by the fire, but something else made the neighbors turn their heads away in sheer repulsion. There were deep gashes across his stomach, so deep that they could see the blood and the fat hardening from being burnt to a crisp. And though his head resembled like that of a lump of coal, they could see a big knife wound stretching across his blackened throat.

That was when they knew that it wasn't Furugawa's carelessness. After the ambulance left with the body, people started to blame it on the demon gangs. Wasn't it a coincidence that a demon convict had escaped only a week ago? The one that was connected to so many government-related murders? And how about the murder three days ago? Also a government official. It was probably the same one, they nodded amongst themselves. And didn't somebody see a suspicious looking man with a hat and baggy clothes walking around the neighborhood earlier? At least that's what one of them told the investigators.

Yeah, he asked me for a light, I remember.

The news reporter nodded briskly, jotting down some notes. It was a young man, they found out from later sources. Probably in his early 20s and probably in his late teens. He had on a black hat, black baggy jeans, and a faded navy-blue shirt. He looked more like a teenage punk than a youkai terrorist. People shook their heads; it was frightening to think that demons could so easily disguise themselves to look like humans. What about his hair? The man shrugged; the guy looked like he had short hair underneath his black hat. And his eyes? It was too dark to really see.

People didn't want to give out too much information. The less they knew, the less they were suspected of any connections to the demons. If they knew too much the police would start questioning why and how they knew so much. Explanations would be made behind bars. If they weren't arrested, then they "mysteriously" disappeared. If they were found – that's if they were found – they were always found dead.

So this was certainly not the first time people saw something like this happen. They learned to stay out of it as much as possible, and retreat into their safe homes. They'd turn on their televisions and watch the chaos from their couches, knowing that it happened only a breath away.

"Here."

The thick, folded over newspaper unfurled and landed on Naraku's desk with a quiet thud. His eyes scanned the front-page spread story and its title, Government Official Killed. Naraku looked up at the mercenary with a small smile that never quite reached the slash of his eyes.

"Front page," he drawled. "Very impressive. I see you like to show off your work."

The mercenary shrugged casually. "It does wonders for my resume."

He looked around the office, which was stylish and clean. The wide expanse of grey and white surrounded him in every direction and the frosted walls were completely bare. An odd-shaped glass figure resembling an erect man stood in the corner near Naraku's desk. He looked back at Naraku evenly. "I've brought you the proof. Now, where's my money?"

"What's the rush?" Naraku leaned back against the upholstered chair. "I assumed you were going to hand over his head, or something. Even a limb or two would have done nicely."

"It's not my problem you like to assume things," he replied. Claws dug into the flesh of his palms. "I don't like to waste my efforts, Kumozu."

Naraku humored him with a smile, motioning with his hand. "Take a seat, Sesshomaru. You look so tense…"

Sesshomaru looked around the furnished office in impatience. "I just want my money. My end of the deal is over."

Naraku nodded, an expression of pure amusement flitting across his face, and moved to open a desk drawer. Something that sounded awfully close to metal clanged as he reached in. Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes into warning slits as he deftly reached into his coat pocket and drew forth a small, compact gun. "Hold it, Naraku."

Naraku drew out his hands slowly, revealing several folders clipped together. He watched Sesshomaru's expression with patience, and an indulgent smile slowly spread across his pale face. "I like a man with a temper. Shows he's got balls and can act quickly. Now, how did you get that past security?"

"Keh, wouldn't you like to know?" Sesshomaru looked at the files in Naraku's hands curiously. "It was either my gun or their head. I let them pick, of course. Your employees are pretty damn smart."

Naraku caught his gaze and brandished the folders slightly. "Ah, I was only going to offer you another job."

Sesshomaru didn't lower his gun and kept it pointed at the center of Naraku's forehead. One movement from the latter would send the bullet straight to its target, dead center with no hesitation. "Not until I get paid for this one." He mocked Naraku's humoring grin. "You get me?"

Naraku sighed, as if greatly distressed, but his relaxed shoulders told Sesshomaru a different story. The creep was a trained professional when it came to criminals and murderers, being one himself. With a little acquiescing nod, Naraku pressed a button on the intercom. "Kagura, make sure you give Inoue-san his envelope when he leaves."

They waited for several moments in silence before a feminine voice crackled through the intercom. "Yes, sir. It is waiting for him at the reception desk."

"Thank you, Kagura." Naraku released the intercom button. He looked pointedly at Sesshomaru's gun. "The money will all be there. Are you interested in another job?"

Sesshomaru relaxed the grip on his gun. "How much?"

"Double." Naraku smoothed the papers in the clipped folders absentmindedly. "This is a very big job." He looked at Sesshomaru's oversized jacket, black jeans and T-shirt. "You're young. Think you can handle it?"

Sesshomaru snorted. "Keh, I can handle anything if you pay me enough." He looked at the folder on Naraku's desk. "What's the job?"

Naraku smiled. "Are you familiar with the Watanabe Hospital?"

"Sure, it's only a block away from the police station." Sesshomaru looked at the file on top and recognised it as a patient's information log. "You want me to kill a hospitalized man?"

"More than that. I want you to blow up the entire hospital." Naraku handed him the files. "Make another front page for me, won't you?"

Sesshomaru stared at the folders blankly. "Why the entire hospital?"

"You're not paid to ask why." Naraku's smile never left his face.

"Then why the hell do I have individual patients' files?" Sesshomaru snapped. He wasn't paid to put up with bullshit, either.

"Because you need visitation rights to enter the hospital. I want you to disguise yourself as an employee there and do the job as quietly as possible," Naraku replied. He stood up to move away from his desk. "The folders will give you access to these patients' rooms, where you'll able to plant the bomb without much notice. These rooms contain patients who are either in a coma or have been anesthetized."

Sesshomaru raised his eyebrows. Naraku sure did his homework. "And what if they're not?" He watched Naraku give him another one of those humoring smiles. God, he wanted to shred the lips off this creep and feed it to the cats outside his apartment complex.

"Kill them if they attract attention." Naraku pressed the button on the intercom again. "Inoue-san will be coming out shortly, Kagura."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"I want half up front." Sesshomaru folded his arms across his chest, and the gun rubbed against the soft material of his shirt carelessly.

"Already done," Naraku replied swiftly.

"How did you know I was going to take the job?" Sesshomaru gave a mock sniff of offense. "I'm not desperate, you know."

Naraku gave a low chuckle. "Don't be offended, kid. I know your policy. 'Don't say no to money,' is that right?" Sesshomaru almost expected Naraku to wink at him.

"I'm curious as to why you're not asking one of your men to do this," Sesshomaru murmured. "Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you? You're not stupid enough to trust me, are you?" He was testing Naraku, and by the looks of the latter, he knew it too. Almost all underground demons knew of him and his work. Sesshomaru was the best mercenary out there… not that being a mercenary was a top-notch job, anyway. The one mistake they made sure never to commit was to trust a mercenary.

Naraku chuckled. "You're a fucking mercenary. Of course I don't trust you. But I can't have one of my men get caught so early in the game. You do the job and you get the money. If you don't…."

Sesshomaru hated his incomplete sentences. "What, you'll kill me?"

"Well, I won't." He walked to the door and opened it, revealing a man with sharp features and ice blue eyes. "He will."

The man grinned, flashing a pair of pearly fangs. "What am I doing?" He stared at Sesshomaru openly and raised his bushy eyebrows at the black sports cap that covered Sesshomaru's head.

"Oh, nothing—we were just working out the minor details of the contract," Naraku replied smoothly. He turned to Sesshomaru with a polite smile, which suited his black business suit and expensive shoes quite well. "I assume you can find your way to the reception hall with no problem?"

Sesshomaru walked past the newcomer with indifference. "Of course."

"Rookie."

Sesshomaru growled.

"Kouga," said Naraku warningly.

Sesshomaru turned the corner and stepped into the elevator before the temptation to tear Kouga's limbs apart became too great. He pressed one of the buttons on the panel aggressively and leaned back against the rail with an aggravated sigh. With a little tug on his hat, Sesshomaru fixed a scowl upon his face and looked around for cameras.

The lift was claustrophobic, all metal and grey with a bunch of white little buttons on the side. It was mostly bare, save for the shiny metal rail that rested behind his back. His eyes skimmed the walls quickly and he smiled. There, wedged in a little black round hole (which looked like another button) was a flat piece of glass. He lightly tapped on it with one clawed finger and wagged it in a 'hello.' After several moments and about ten more floors, the lift stopped on the first floor. The elevator doors slid away from each other, and as Sesshomaru stepped out, several people piled in.

The building's theme was obviously grey, or a balance of black and white. The walls were stubbly soft grey, almost metallic lavender if the light illuminated them just right, and each corner was adorned with either huge exotic plants or odd, abstract glass figures. Sesshomaru rounded a third corner and came to the reception hall, where he met a dozen or more business suits and expensive shoes. They were all demons, he realized.

For murderers, they surely looked professional and clean. Sesshomaru smiled ruefully to himself and headed towards the grey desk that lay in plain sight. A woman in black-skirt/white-blouse attire greeted him, a smile freshly painted on her lips.

"Inoue-san," she greeted with a bow and handed him a big yellow envelope. "Your envelope, sir."

He took it with a polite smile, noting that her hands were strong and graceful-looking. She was either skilled in the katana or hand-to-hand combat, Sesshomaru couldn't be sure. Hell, with those hands, she might even be skilled with a fucking fan or something. Sesshomaru laughed, ignoring her puzzled look. Walking out of the building, he slipped on a pair of shades and headed towards his car. Sesshomaru unlocked the speed cruiser with a high-pitched bleep and folded his lanky body into the driver's seat.

Then, he took a small mobile phone out of his jean pocket and dialed. It rang three times before somebody answered, "Hello?"

"I've got another job," he said into the phone.

"Good. What is it?"

Sesshomaru closed his eyes for a brief second. "I get double the money from my last job if I bomb the Watanabe Hospital." He waited for an answer.

Several seconds later—"I see."

"That's a lot of money," Sesshomaru murmured.

"Do you want more?"

"Don't I always?" He looked outside his tinted windows, relieved that nobody was walking by. "A man's gotta feed himself, ya know."

"Well then, looks like you've got yourself another job, Inuyasha."

Then, there was a disconnected tone.

Kagome Higurashi woke up with a pain drilling at the side of her head and a foul taste in her mouth. Like a moth, her eyes fluttered open to a white room. Behind her, the curtains were parted enough to let sunlight filter through, and it bounced off the television screen that hung from the ceiling to the green screen of her pulse monitor. Its periodic beeping told Kagome that she was still alive. Well, that was certainly good to know.

Except, she wasn't sure where she was and why she was here and who she was. Rubbing her temples eased the dull ache that pounded steadily at her head, but it did little to soothe away her rising anxiety. Why was she here? Wasn't she on her way to work? No, that wasn't right. Kagome remembered actually staying at work until very late—didn't she? Her breath hitched and she could feel tears of frustration coming.

Kagome willed her mind to stop racing enough to analyze the situation. Okay, calm down. This is the first step to hysteria. First, let's start off with who she was. She was a doctor—a psychiatrist, a specialist for youkai criminals. My last patient was a man named Kumozu who escaped just a week ago. Kagome shuddered at the image of a humorless grin and red, angular eyes. Okay, now you're remembering too much.

My name is Kagome Higurashi. I work at the stabilized institution for youkai. My office is only a block away from the institution. Kagome frowned. What was the last thing she remembered? Kagome looked at the spiraling sunlight and watched the specks of dust floating in it, momentarily mesmerized. I was…I was going to work, wasn't I? I might have been at the office already. She couldn't determine exactly, but she didn't remember being in danger or feeling sick.

So then—why was she here? Had something happened to her? Oh god, she wasn't sick, was she? Kagome instantly thought about the TV specials about people who were brought to the hospital for no good reason, and then later found out that they had some incurable cancer. She trembled and raised a hand to her head, which was wrapped in cloth.

A head concussion? What, did she fall? Something like hot electricity pierced through her brain, and Kagome winced at the sudden shot of pain. She couldn't have fallen that badly, could she? Kagome grimaced. Sure, she was clumsy—but not to this point. She was capable of annihilating a pyramid of toilet paper, but not this.

"Nurse?" she called out loudly, ignoring another sudden shot of pain.

"Nurse!" she shouted, heavy blocks assaulting her head. Still, no one came.

Bracing against the pain that was reeling inside her brain, Kagome swung one leg over the hospital bed slowly, and then the other. The cold tiled floor sent sharp needles up her bare feet, and Kagome had to bite back a gasp, which in turn sent a shrill needle to her head instead. She wobbled, but maintained her balance with a palm on the bed.

"Damn it," she cursed. This hurts.

If she thought getting out of bed was bad, getting to the door was much, much worse. When she made it there, Kagome was panting and clenching her eyes painfully shut as her balmy hand grasped the cold, silver door handle, with the other hand bracing her knee. When the door opened, she fully expected it to be bustling and busy, with nurses and doctors just humming by. Kagome blinked in confusion.

"Hello?" Her voice weakly echoed down the hallway.

That was odd—the hospital was completely empty.

Two hours ago, Inuyasha had decided that he fucking hated his job.

Inuyasha turned up the volume on his CD player louder, mildly interested in the people passing by his car. He adjusted the nametag on his "borrowed" scrubs and tugged on his cap self-consciously. The last guy that wore this was lying somewhere in the dumpster naked. Inuyasha scanned the semi-packed parking lot listlessly, his eyes taking in random patients and nurses. It had been the same thing for nearly two hours now—ambulance, stretcher, nurse, ambulance, stretcher, nurse, ambulance, stretcher, nurse. Hearing the long, high-pitched wail of ambulances and then watching people with banged up bodies was starting to grow just a bit tedious. It made Inuyasha wonder why the hell he took up this job in the first place.

No, not the one that he was paid to do today—but the crummy job that he woke up early mornings and slept late nights for with no vacation or satisfaction. Inuyasha sometimes—always—wondered why he got into this mercenary shit in the first place.

Because he couldn't do anything else—was never even given the chance to, either. People didn't exactly just hand jobs to guys with long white hair and dog-ears sprouting from their ears. Inuyasha had learned to accept the fact that people weren't exactly nice to guys like him, and that, he learned at a very young age, with a couple of bruises and bloody noses. So, what about guys like him? The ones that weren't quite one thing or the other?

Well the other didn't quite accept him either. When he was just a little runt his father was murdered mysteriously and his mother had died soon after—from a broken heart, it seemed. Inuyasha knew better. His father was a very cautious man, and it would've taken someone very close to him to… Inuyasha shook his head. Seeing his mother's body sprawled on the floor and the shattered teacup near her hands was proof enough.

That left just him and his older brother. Inuyasha scoffed. That was until he woke up in the middle of the night and heard his brother's motorcycle roar away. Inuyasha still remembered the sound, dull and wooden inside his sensitive ears. So even back then—he knew what it was like to be abandoned over and over, unwanted and ignored. He didn't try to go after Sesshomaru then, knew that there was no need to. They never saw each other again after that night.

So there he was—broke, homeless and so damn hungry that even eating human flesh sounded pretty fucking good. Inuyasha's stomach knotted at the memory. And he would've—if it weren't for the fact that he was half-human as well.

Then one night, as Inuyasha was begging at the backdoor of a restaurant, a demon passed by. Inuyasha knew from his black business suit that he was part of a demon organization, and also knew that these organizations paid pretty damn well. When he tried to beg the guy for a job—any kind of job—Inuyasha then stumbled into being a mercenary. They'd never hire him to be part of an organization. Too risky, they said. Being half-human meant that you were a traitor, or would be.

They gave him the dirty jobs, the kind of job that was given to people that didn't matter because if they got caught, that was it for them.

His first job was to slam a knife into the leading biochemistry professor, and his next—hell, he didn't even remember. He wouldn't have remembered his last one if the smell of kerosene and gas wasn't so damn hard to get rid of. He was hired for all their dirtcrumb jobs; his hands got bloody—theirs didn't. If he got caught, they wouldn't. It was just that simple, and Inuyasha never questioned it. He was good at what he did, and he did it.

Inuyasha fiddled with the volume knob on his stereo. He wasn't paid to ask why, not even when he saw the filmy innocence and the last minute terror, dumb and frozen. Inuyasha remembered nights feeling strange, too afraid to call it guilt. Guilt cost money and he sure as hell wouldn't buy it.

His watch beeped.

"Fuck," he swore quietly underneath his breath. "It's about time."

He wasn't used to breaks, hated them. That was why two hours ago he had decided that he fucking hated his job. Inuyasha could feel it drain him inside and out, and it was pretty damn depressing to know that he couldn't even take a break. Inuyasha shook his head and turned off the music. He didn't have time for anything anymore—not that he ever did. He was too busy doing everybody else's dirty laundry.

"Well, duty calls." Inuyasha adjusted his nametag one last time.

The gravel crunched beneath Inuyasha's feet, the sound magnifying inside his ears. He was always excited before a big kill, and this one was certainly big. Now, don't get the wrong impression. He wasn't too happy with the idea of blowing up a hospital with a bunch of civilians inside. He was human, too…or did you forget already? But he couldn't help his heart from pounding, couldn't help the pulsating roar inside his ears and the way his rough skin felt in risky situations, prickly and hot.

The hospital was certainly a very impressive one. The tall structure held about ten floors with rows and rows of blue-clear windows, and when Inuyasha calculated the time it would take for all ten floors to collapse he imagined the bulletproof glass windows shattering during the explosion. A small shiver rippled over his skin at the thought.

He stopped in front of the building and tilted his head up to squint at the winking sun.

Inside his coat pocket he felt the small igniter tap against his ribcage—or swore that he did. Inuyasha had learned a long time ago that his profession could do that to a person: make you imagine things that seem so utterly real that you learn to accept it as reality.

His mission was simple, as always. Get in there, plant the igniter and get out. If he wished, he could watch the pretty sparks fly and the mushroom shrouds of black smoke curl up in the air when he was done. He wouldn't and he never did.

Inuyasha placed a firm hand on the metal bar of the entrance door and pushed.

"Ah…. Shit." Inuyasha let out a low curse as his eyes took in about a dozen police officers. That wouldn't have been too bad, but the fact that four demons were standing in front of the officers made Inuyasha's throat go dry.

Putting on an easy grin, Inuyasha leaned the length of his body against the door rail. "So, boys, were you expecting me?"

Inuyasha could hear the rattling of the bullets inside the men's guns when he shifted his weight. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he slowly said, "So…. who's the little tattletale, hm?"

"You're under arrest," one of the demons spoke.

Inuyasha inclined his head thoughtfully. "Really? Who's going to arrest me?" He stared at the one who had just spoken. "You?"

The demon stared back unflinchingly.

Inuyasha folded his arms across his chest and gave a rude snort. "Come try."

Kagome's heart pounded against her chest erratically as her eyes took in—not one—but five demons. The police officers were completely dwarfed by them, walled in by four of them. The demons wore black uniforms, similar to the officers' uniforms but looser and more suited for movement and easy maneuvering.

Kagome's eyes drifted to a man in scrubs and would have thought that he was perfectly normal if it hadn't been for the fact that the guns were on the opposite side, pointing at him. Which meant that he was probably a demon or he really pissed off somebody in the government, and this was their cruel comeback..

Well, either way he was dead crazy, Kagome decided. Even if he was a demon, it was one against four – not to mention a couple of guns—and there was no way he could take them all on. Kagome breathed an anxious sigh. So these were the "LEDs"—Law Enforcement Demons. She'd been trying for months to get the government to allow her to psychoanalyze these guys, but they'd have none of it. They were the government's live weapons—living, walking weapons of mass destruction. So, these guys were pretty damn amazing, or so Kagome was told. But what was so perplexing was the mystery behind why they would want to help the government, and when she tried to get permission to set up studies, they simply said no.

What was in it for them? Did they want to take over the government, slowly weasel their way in? It seemed like a ridiculous thought. If they had wanted the government they probably could have taken it a long time ago with force. So, why didn't they? Some things just didn't add up, and as much as Kagome wanted to believe that it was because they were compassionate and kind, she knew better.

She slid her back against the wall, inching closer to the scene to get a better look.

"You can't fucking arrest me. You've got no proof. Is this how the government works nowadays—they just do whatever the hell they want, arrest whomever they want?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The reply he got was one he did not expect. Two demons rushed at him with a speed that outmatched his own and easily grabbed him by the arms. Almost too easily. Kagome watched as another sped at him, an orange blur, and raised her eyebrows incredulously when she saw that a Sleeper was already plunged halfway into his skin. Kagome watched as the thin, spidery web of poison glowed through his skin, and was riveted by the way it spread like a net all over his taut skin. He twitched three times before his eyes rolled upwards and buckled to the ground.

The Sleeper was a type of virus that scrambled the genetic protein codes of demons—temporarily. It worked just like a tranquilizer—fast and easy and painless. The Sleeper was efficient—no messes and no clean ups. The victim would probably feel a little numb and lightheaded afterwards, but nothing too serious. And the amazing part of the deal was that the demon's powers were also temporarily neutralized, something the scientists thought up before they started disappearing, one by one. The government used the virus to catch the youkai terrorists and gave it to the LEDs to use, since they were the only ones fast and strong enough to get near a demon. Kagome stared at the terrorist, almost in sympathy, as she watched him slide to the ground, almost like a wounded animal.

And that was why Kagome was confused as to why some demons were willing to help out the humans instead of their own kind. Kagome's head started to throb and she felt the needles spread through her head. It was odd, seeing something so stubborn and rebellious be defeated. It was a queer thing to see them fall helplessly to the ground, harmless and still. Trembling fingertips pressed against her forehead, cool and shaky to the touch. There was also something strange—almost familiar—about the scene. Not because of the situation, but because… Kagome could have sworn that she saw him somewhere else before.

Street lamps and amber and white and slabs of grey pavement slurred by her. Her head hummed, like the wings of a hummingbird; pain brushed against the sides of her brain. But she clutched onto the distorted visions. Then, it was gone. Before she could even touch the strings of memories, it disappeared. She grappled onto whatever image she had managed to salvage, but they swam in her head like disconnected puzzles.

Why can't I remember?

Kagome's eyes whipped to the terrorist's face and the eerie sensation of déjà vu crawled along her spine, tingled the back of her neck. I think I know him. His features were familiar and yet so different at the same time, and for a moment, Kagome thought she saw him open his eyes and stare at her with feral, sunburnt eyes. She wanted to cry out when they lifted him onto a stretcher and took him away—possibly never to be seen again.

That was when she remembered herself and realised that she would be seeing him again very, very soon.

My name is Kagome Higurashi and I'm a psychiatrist for demons, the only one left in Japan.

Ending note: yes, the demons probably smelt Kagome. Explained later on. When I wrote this chapter I found it incredibly boring…and long. But meh, I distract from reviews.