White Dogs: Perversity.
Rating: PG-13. R, to be safe for some parts.
Pairing: Sess/Kag, we get to see something of affection in here. Or would that be desperation?
Song-fic: ….
Disclaimer: ::rolls eyes upward.:: Oh, that I were the one who had created Inuyasha that I had given life to Sesshoumaru. But alas, I cannot claim anything at all. For I was not the one to do the creating merely the one to envy the creator. Translation: I own ..::checks stock:: two pieces of lint and a monkey. Nothing more. I wonder where the third piece of lint went to?…::we switch scenes to see a piece of lint, obviously the runaway one, having a snog-fest with a dust bunny.:: …!!!::pales:: I didn't want to know that bad!!
Summary: The waking world is a horrible place for one to be though Kagome finds it's easier to survive with a shoulder to weep on. Especially if that someone is 'Hitori'. She doesn't really know who he really is though, otherwise she'd probably have a conniption.
Genre: Everything left of the middle. But count on some comical relief. I can't write a good, complete uninterrupted angst-drama to save my sorry existence.
A.N.: Erg…I've been sticking my nose in way too many romance novels…Someone kick me. Tra la la. Well, yes, but at least they have some good material. None of that mushy gushy gag-me-now and strangle- me-later junk. That's always the quickest way down migraine road. Been there, done that.
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" Well, if that is the way it must be done, then that is the way you must do it." Sir Didymus, The Labyrinth. (Shameless promotion, I know.)
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Perverse: Marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict. Resistance to guidance or discipline. Marked by immorality; deviation from what is good, right or proper.
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Chapter Two: …Tighten Their Weave.
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The sun slowly climbed in it's zenith, splashing its wondrous hues of red and gold and velvet red over the glass buildings of Tokyo, the afore mentioned glass reflected the rays and the urban jungle was bathed in the warm aura of morning. The denizens of the city buzzed to life and the working day began. And the hectic, frantic day began anew…
In direct contradiction to the frenzy down at ground level, the high-rise pent house retained its lethargic peace. Through skylights that had once allowed the moonbeams of the night their passage, liquid sunshine now spilled through. Golden waves swallowed the simple ivory room changing everything to a glowing red, a change not unlike that of Midas's touch.
The red-gold aura has swallowed the fragile form of the young woman on the bed, curled into the fetal position. One small hand clasping the vile of shards at her pale throat, holding tight, protecting. She slept soundly, the sun's rays warming her skin and the heat sinking to her soul. Kagome slept unaware of the strange eyes that still watched her.
Sesshoumaru rubbed his chin in thought, eyes turned inward as he pondered. The human, Kagome as he knew her to be, was not entirely that. Human, that is. No human's healing could have sped to three times its normal rate. In what would have taken any other jack a few weeks to heal, Miss Miko would have healed in only one and a half of a week if his calculations were correct. Which they were. He had not checked her bandages, but he could sense the healing through some sixth sense. Or rather, a seventh. Telepathy was the sixth. The eighth was empathy. Hmmm…. Well, whichever sense he was using at the moment he knew to trust it.
One would only get himself killed otherwise…It would explain much of his half brother's misfortunes.
Quickly steering clear of that thought, Sesshoumaru re-averted his attention back to the miko mystery and resisted the sudden urge to throw his hands into the air. There was no figuring the girl out. None. Obviously the puzzle was a 3-D one and would never be solved because several key pieces were missing.
He couldn't help but reach up to rub his temples where he felt another head ache begin its irritating tirade.
Deciding to take a few more of those miracle pills, he got to his feet and slipped from the light of the room into the shadows of the hallway.
Through a hazy miasma of muted colors, some of which had no name, Kagome's mind drifted with no true purpose. Distantly, she could feel her body and what it lay on yet she paid it no mind at the moment. Content to just float she gave a mental sigh and let herself go on. For some wonderful reason the pain was not as… dominant here. She was free of it, and that was all the prompting she wanted to stay here for just a little while longer.
Gradually, that 'little while' tickled away and Kagome's mind gravitated towards the borderline of the waking world and she felt her heart plummet when the pain attacked with the frenzied intensity usually reserved for a starving man placed at a banquet table that strained against the weight of fine delicacies and precious morsels.
The muted hues took gave a sharp jerk into a placenta of frigid lavender and deep ice blue shades that left her feeling cold inside. Her physical body shivered, tightening into a fetal position seeking warmth it would not find as her lips parted to give passage to a whimper.
Memories of the night before filtered in swiftly, leaving her dizzy. She'd been stabbed, which explained the lances of pain shooting from her side up along her nerves and into her chest. Little prickles of pain.
Then the memory of the, well, the man had been more divine in appearance then mortal, so perhaps he was an angel? Of death? What a way to die. She'd no complaints… Except for one. But…if she was dead, why was there still pain?
Foolish. She didn't belong to death yet. Unfinished business and all that.
Very well. Mister Divine was not the angel of death and she was still very much alive judging by how it hurt to breath and the vast array of colors playing tag in her mind. Deep breathe. Her heart trembled with the sudden ache.
And her eyes snapped open. Then just as quickly slammed shut as the suns rays filled her retinas and burned them. Learning from the mistake, she pulled a lead weighted arm from under the covers and placed her hand over her eyes. Through the shield of flesh and bone, she opened one eye then blinked and opened both, squinting against the sudden gold leaking through her fingers, flesh glowing red.
The girl twisted onto her back, noticing the way the shirt, which was too large to be her own, wrapped even tighter about her. Trying to ignore the pain in her side and the pull of the gauze bandages she sat up, hand still partly covering her eyes. Unfortunately, her strength would not hold her up, so she settled for leaning back on one arm swamped by pillows. Her side gave sharp protest to the motion and she winced.
Her eyes not entirely adjusted to the light but it was enough for her to let her hand fall to rest gently on her stomach, as she let her gaze take in the strange room she was in.
Pale blue, so pale a blue it was nearly white, walls and pale blue carpeting. The steel gray orbs traveled over the wooden frames and glass that protected whatever precious, no doubt, works of art they held. Each one was by the same artist. She also noted each seemed to pull a different emotion out of the viewer and display it on the canvas. There were no words to describe the abstract art- nothing but lovely, that is. Kagome's eyes followed the frames to the window and out to the glass towers of Tokyo.
She blinked, stared then blinked again. Then lifted her head to stare at the ceiling and the skylights that gave her a portal to the sky above. Her eyes widened in silent wonder as a bird darted over the glass, falling into the sky then diving back down only to snap it's wings out at the last moment and blur away on another updraft.
It was nearly enough to bring a smile to her face, feeling the suns rays warming her skin. The frigid cold of earlier was gone. She was glad of it.
Giving out a huff of air, she looked back down at herself and immediately stopped, startled. There was a soft red dress shirt where there should have been a pink blouse. And her skirt was non-existent.
"….um.." She swallowed, lifting her arm again. The sleeve's cuff fell down past her fingertips, clearly stating that the shirt itself belonged to something of male origin.
"Oh…kuso."
Something, or someone, that was very tall and long limbed. Her mind abruptly pulled up the image of the man she'd seen before passing out, then sped ahead to the only conclusion she could come up with. Her angel of Death was actually the angel of mercy.
"How utterly amusing. In some sarcastic, not really kind of way." Kagome rubbed her temples in slow, firm, counter clockwise circles.
After downing the lovely little pain relieving capsules, Sesshoumaru traipsed back towards his sanctuary, keen ears listening to the hints of the miko waking up. He could faintly make out the sounds of her heartbeat and breathing. Both were quite pleasant to listen to actually; most humans had a sort of wheezing way of breathing, whereas hers were soft and controlled. Her heartbeat was strong and deep.
Pleasant. For a human.
Retracting his aura, he stopped just outside the open door to his golden haven. He was not worried that she'd felt him what with the fact that she was certainly still very much out of it and would not sense him at all, even without the precaution, till he was breathing on her. Wonderful thing about wounds. Left your enemy, or in this case former enemy sluggish and disoriented. A perfect opportunity to study them. Awake, that is. A sleeping (former) enemy was an enemy that told no secrets and revealed nothing (except for if they snored).
From what he'd gleaned of her before, she was a rather stubborn and odd human. One with a rebellious power that would burn to life one moment then fall back into the depths of her body just as quickly. That made her something to be wary of and just a tad feared. Such as the time she'd been able to pull Tetsusaiga from it's resting place, and when she'd somehow reversed its transformation when he'd managed to capture it that one time. He began to suspect she had some measure of control over it, though it had been hard to tell as she'd very rarely actually come into contact with it. Not to mention, his pitiful brother never did have full control over the fang till she had been in danger.
It would be interesting to see what would happen should the Tetsusaiga be placed in her hands… and to see how strong her rebellious power was.
Aside from that, the girl had nothing else going for her. She knew very little about defending herself as was apparent by the bloody blouse in his refuse pile. This gave him pause as a new road way opened up for him and his as of late un-plotted plan.
Why not kindly offer to teach her in the art of self-defense and while he was at it, learn as much about her as he could? He very nearly smiled, though what came from it was a predatory and self-satisfied smirk.
The mystery that had plagued him for so very long would be solved and he could get on with his life in peace. No doubt that once he learned and understood all of the miko's idiosyncrasies, he'd loose whatever platonic interest he had in her.
Curiosity reared its annoying head when he'd heard the girl mumble to herself. After a gasp. Then a curse. Quirking an eyebrow he leaned on the door frame and watched her closely. She remained blissfully ignorant of his presence, which gave him the chance to sum her up.
At the moment she was messaging her forehead gently, seemingly nearly swallowed whole by the dress shirt he'd clothed her in. The effect was a fragile little creature nestled in the folds of a fluffy white comforter and a red cotton shirt. What completed the air of innocence were the sun's liquid gold spilling on her and giving her ebony hair a divine glow.
He frowned at his poetic turn of thought and stepped fully into the room arms crossed over his chest. Standing as such, he relaxed and waited for her to notice she had an audience. One that wasn't exactly displeased with the view.
Sesshoumaru was not disappointed for only moments later Kagome had stiffened and turned her head to look at him with luminous and lucid sapphire orbs. Startled apprehension were housed within the remarkable depths, causing the hues to shift into a lighter topaz.
Probably the only time he'd seen anything other then defiance and steel will in them, he mused searching for any sign of the recognition he'd seen in them the night before. There was something, deep in her gaze…so deep, it was probably on a subconscious level. He let it go for the time being and instead settled for speaking.
"Ohayo, how are you feeling?" His voice had changed little from those many years ago. No matter which form he held, he would not change his vocal chords. He watched the flash of that something dart through those eyes before vanishing back to the depths.
She opened her mouth, lips working to form words…finally she grasped one and let it fly.
"Who..?"
His lips twitched, "Am I? Simple question, simple answer. Wasuremono, Hitori. At your service." A slight bow, then he moved to sit down in the chair once again, silently thanking whatever deity was out there that he'd not left the sketchbook open. It would not do for her to see a rendition of her all bloody and half nude now would it? Might give her the wrong ideas…
And he was most certainly aware that her eyes were riveted to his form. Hn. The sudden …smugness- he believed, that filled him puzzled him. That was rather unexpected, even though he knew it was just caution that schooled her actions.
Clearing his throat, he leaned his elbows on his knees and turned his eyes onto her.
He said, "As for the rest of the questions I'm sure you have, I'll answer them easily. What? You were stabbed. The bum is.. well taken care of. When? Wasn't it obvious? Where you are now? My home. Why? The hospital was too far away to be of any real use. Not to mention the staff there is composed of imbeciles, and they'd have done you no good. So, you are now in my care. Pleased to meet you." His voice was colored by good humor. Dry though it was, and straight to the point.
She blinked at him, obviously torn between what should have been gratitude or being ticked at his arrogant way of solving her problems. He was very much amused by the play of emotions on her face.
Finally she settled on just looking positively dazed. The taiyoukai felt his lips tilt upward in what he assumed was called a roguish grin. Very small, but there naetheless.
The little thing gathered herself and gave him a small smile. Adorable. He marveled again at how expressive she was. How was it that humans were able to hold such a vast array of emotions and not simply explode? Or at the very least, get a headache that would rival even one of his.
Such an intellectually challenging little creature he'd caught himself, no? He was looking forward to the challenge. For the first time in a long while, he actually looked forward to what lay ahead. Amazing. Making a note to thank her for that later, he allowed himself the entertainment of seeing her fidget.
Kagome fiddled with a strand of her hair, unable to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. The man before her seemed to radiate a calm intelligent intensity that left her unbalanced. Something inside her sat up and paid attention, obviously finding the air the man gave off very familiar in the strangest of ways. Wasuremono, Hitori…why did the name sound familiar? She tilted her head to the side to study the young man before her. Better yet, why did he seem familiar?
The miko couldn't quite put her finger on it, 'it' seemed to dance just past her reach whenever she tried, but she knew it was important.
"Haven't I seen you somewhere?"
The smile that ghosted at the corners of his firm mouth was really very breathtaking, even though it was barely at the status of a smile. Gee, he must have to beat the female populous off with a stick, the monitor at the back of her mind speculated. Kagome resisted the urge to blush.
" I should think so. My face has after all been plastered all over in Tokyo bookstores and art auctions. One would have to be virtually living under a rock to have not seen it. I don't believe I've had the honor of your name, miss." Her congenial savior leaned back in the lazy boy he was lounged in, pulling his torso out of the light and into the shadow.
Once again, the proverbial floor swung under her feet from his swift change of subject. Had she been able to think clearly, she might have been positively mortified that she was in his bed and one of his shirts, obviously, and in order to have been that way, he'd have had to undress her. However, she was too occupied with keeping her balance around Mr. Worldly that anything else was put to the back of her mind.
As such, she was able to put the agony of her heart at the back of her mind as well, till it was only a constant and dully aching thrum.
Finding her footing once again, she bowed her head.
"Higurashi, Kagome. Thank you, for, you know, saving my life."
She missed the gleam of triumph in those oddly hued eyes he possessed, but did not miss his words.
"Well Higurashi-san, would you like some tea?" Raised eyebrow, and he pushed himself to his feet in a motion that was fluid enough to put water into a fit of jealousy. She was awed; apparently the switching of subject to random subject was a penchant for this man.
Kagome wet her lips, all at once aware of her empty stomach and parched throat, "Yes, tea would be lovely."
Her stomach rumbled its agreement, much to her embarrassment. The stitching of the white comforter was suddenly most fascinating. Kagome decided to examine it more thoroughly.
A deep, husky sound came from the general direction of Hitori. Like a bowstring her head snapped up to investigate the sudden noise only to find her rescuer watching her through gleaming cat's eyes. He was laughing? Her jaw dropped in her incredulous shock.
"Would you like some food as well, Higurashi-san?" He asked, his laughter gone from his face though mirth still lit up his eyes.
She corrected him automatically, "Kagome is fine. I'm not one for formalities. And, food…well, it couldn't sound bet- ittai."
Wincing, her arm shifted against her stomach, drawing his attention there. She relaxed when the spasm passed and looked up to find him suddenly much closer then she remembered. The skin of her cheeks were stained rouge when he frowned, and very delicately brushed his fingers over the material of the shirt she wore directly over her wound. His eyes never left hers.
Time suddenly went into deep freeze mode, and then jumped back into play just as swiftly. It left her slightly dizzy and more then just a little disconcerted. Hitori straitened and his slim form vanished through the door.
She stared blankly after him, the confusion tugging her brows together. Then, positive that he was gone, she pushed back the covers and lifted the hem of the borrowed shirt she was wrapped in. A blotch of crimson, not too big but not so small either gave her a moment of shock. That explained the light-headedness she was experiencing. One hand still holding the shirt up, the other delicately prodded the outer perimeter of the blotch. She brought the hand up to her face, letting the hem cover her once more to examine to blood on the tips of her fingers in morbid fascination.
Kagome blinked, then her eyes turned glassy as her mind wondered once again. She'd nearly died. The evidence was staining her finger pads. It was throbbing, a dull reminder of the life that still flowed through her, at her side and in the hitch of her breath.
So many times she'd faced death, stared it down and escaped it none the worse for wear. But, it had always been a youkai that was attempting to kill her, never a human. A human doing it of his own free will, that it. It brought an entirely new prospective to her on how cruel and cold mankind could really be. Or, was she paying for her betrayal? Oh Kami…
Sesshoumaru frowned as he put the instant ramen into the microwave, mind on Kagome. Apparently her wound was healing in a very unorthodox and unpredictable way. It seemed that sleeping helped her to heal at a swifter pace, however, when awake she was just like any other wounded mortal. The regenerative process slowed. And, since she sat up, her wound had re-opened. Dormancy, he could understand. More energy was available when was asleep to do such things at that. Hn…
The scent of her blood was… unusually intoxicating. He'd not noticed it last night, what with saving her life and such. But that wasn't what was really bothering him. It was checking her wounds and, should it be necessary, changing the bandages.
He didn't exactly feel like having her scream bloody murder at his attempt to 'compromise her purity' and 'taint her womanhood', given her indignant nature he was positive he'd be on the receiving end of her hand and a shriek.
His hearing was a precious sense to him, though he supposed he could live without it- not that he was willing to give it a go and therefore 'Take no chances' was the best advice he could follow.
In any case, he still needed to change the bandages otherwise she'd get infected and Kami only knew how that would make her happy.
The microwave chirped at him, causing his train of thought to crash. Glaring at it, he pulled the Styrofoam cup from the machine's open maw and poured the contents into a bowl. The bowl was then placed on a tray that already held a cup pf spiced tea and a glass of water as well as some sliced fruit. Tray in one hand he grabbed the first aide kit with the other and padded on silent feet back down the hall.
He'd have to compromise with her. It was an offer she could not refuse. Or would not, he corrected stepping into the sun-lit room. Only to pause mid-thought at the sight he fell upon.
It was a strange sight, to say the least. A very contradicting one at that. The room itself gave off the impression of peace and purity, so much so that it made his eyes ache. And the frail little creature he'd rescued sat on a pedestal (also known as a king sized bed) in the center with golden rays causing her pale flesh to be inflicted by a warm glow and the raven tresses strewn about her shoulders to deepen in such a way that they seemed a midnight hue. All this was very innocent in stature. But then there came the other side; the blood red on her fingers, her nearly scared visage coupled with the crimson clothing he'd bundled her in.
All bespoke of taint.
Finding the sight perturbing, he quickly set the kit on the chair and padded over to the girl. The whole while, he studied her carefully from under lowered lashes. The woman-child was trembling, he frowned.
She sensed him approach and turned her head, hands still held up weakly, to see the displeasure that marred his features as he looked upon her shaking form. Kagome felt the familiar prickle at the back of her eyes, and her throat tightened.
Swallowing, she watched him set the tray down at the oaken bedside table and kneel before her. Her vision blurred and she lost her focus on the man. Thus she quite nearly jumped from her hide when his long fingers curled warmly about her wrists, and brought them to him. She closed her eyes, feeling two hot streams burn their signatures down her cheeks before gravity flung them from her chin, and did not see him dip a napkin in the glass of water and dab her fingers clean again. The feeling however reached her, and her eyes opened, more tears shed. They shattered on the red cotton, darkening the cloth.
"What did I do to deserve this?" Her whisper held the plea for an answer. It made him pause his dabbing, to glance down at her hands so small in his own, then resumed their capture of her pained gaze.
He shook his head and tossed the soiled napkin into the trash container conveniently placed between the legs of the bedside table.
"I'd say it was Murphy's Law, worst possible thing at the worst possible moment. Wrong place, wrong time. You did nothing."
Her reaction was nearly violent, he had to tighten his hold on her hands to keep them from being flailed about helter-skelter.
"Yes I did! I did something horrible. I abandoned my friends. Because I was weak, and I couldn't take it anymore I just left! I betrayed them! And I promised Shippou I would never leave him!"
He stood up, still holding her captive and moved his hands to her shoulder to give her a firm shake. Under the hold, he felt the tension melt and her spine seemed to liquefy for she crumpled into a pitiful, whimpering mess of tears and sorrows. Ahhh, so that was what weighed her conscience.
Brushing aside the disgust from a side that should learn to shut up, he scooted her over and took a seat beside her, one leg hanging over the bed's edge the other curled before him. The next moment he had a feather-light mass of guilt seated in his lap leaning against him as he very gently rocked her, stroking her sleek tresses and rubbing soothing circles on her back. She continued to leak rivers into the soft material of his own long-sleeved shirt.
In the amount of years he had Rin in his care, he'd learned so much about human tendencies to weep or to blame themselves for something that had been out of their control. He'd experienced her childhood and then that of her children and had watched her offer love and comfort when they'd awoken from a particularly horrible dream.
The circumstances may have been different, but comfort would always be the same and he offered what small amount he could to her. He found in him compassion and he gave it to her freely.
"It takes a rare strength to admit weakness, Kagome-san." He continued to rock, listening to her whimpers taper into sniffles, then into slightly congested breath. She clutched the lapels on his shirt with one small hand, and the other was held to her chest, fingers curled about the shards. Tear stained, she stared unseeing at the wall across from her. And the painting that spoke of longing…for love.
He kept telling himself it meant nothing, the way she fit to him. Every flowing curve she possessed found a corresponding niche in him. The feeling of being whole was merely a figment of his imagination and that the fluttering of his guts was just indigestion. But he as not a fool and he did not play the game of denial. The truth was there. He just didn't want to find it.
End chapter.
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