A/N: Gift!fic for aiffe, who is an awesome, AWESOME Inuyasha writer. Queen of unconventional pairings, really. Go check out her profile.

Request: Jakotsu/Kohaku – "dreams"

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Dreaming in Reality

Kohaku was used to dreaming. At least, he thought he was dreaming; subconsciously, he probably wanted to dream. The lines between reality and reverie had blurred and each pooled into the other, until Kohaku couldn't figure out which was which.

Not that he wanted to, particularly. He was a lethargic, lazy boy most of the time. There was no question in his mind concerning his detachment from living. His mornings and nights blended seamlessly into each other, and it was an unending cycle of breathing and sleeping and sleeping and wandering, sometimes, with a bit of killing.

But when that tall, dark form headed his way for the first time, his heart skipped a beat.

His vision was hazy. His world seemed small and stuffed, dark and illuminated only by whatever light Naraku allowed into his consciousness.

"Sango?"

He was sure it would be her. Suddenly, his throat ached for things he couldn't identify.

The person kept walking.

Kohaku backed away. He felt jittery and unnerved. This wasn't Sango…whoever she was. The name continued to hover in his mind, but it was faceless; and Kohaku couldn't figure out whether it was real, or another facet of his delusions.

"Who are you?"

The figure came closer. Kohaku saw that it was no woman at all.

"I…"

And then Jakotsu was all over him, embracing the child and filling his nose with a scent that eventually became familiar and sweet. Kohaku, filled with warmth he didn't know he missed, fell asleep.

…right into another dream. Nothing was new.

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Kohaku blinked at a shimmering pool before his feet, eyes gently flickering across the water. Two rippling forms reflected their solemn images back at him: a man and a young boy.

Tall, muscular, yet feminine in manner, the man had one long arm draped around the smaller figure, a thin, silent boy with a grave face. Kohaku cocked his head. He was reminded of a blurry watercolour painting, the strokes graceful but unclear, passing over their faces and leaving them watery and dark. The sun slid out from behind a grey-white cloud. He squinted. The wind followed after it, and a small sigh escaped his body.

"Jakotsu," he said quietly, eyes still fixed on the water. Two reeds of a dark, muddy colour swayed and fluttered by the water. He felt tired, and confused thoughts chased themselves across his mind. "Am I dreaming?"

It seemed like the only solution that made sense.

Naraku had told him that the girl clad in black and red, carrying a….boomerang? was a dream. Then there was the name Sango, a pretty word without a visage—that was a dream too.

"…Oh, no, Kohaku," Jakotsu replied gently, and he tightened an arm protectively around the little boy, turning the demon slayer to face him. "Of course not." He smiled, gently, and lowered his head, placing his face close to Kohaku's like he was preparing to tell a secret.

"It's real," he said. Kohaku shivered. "It's as real…"

"…as a nightmare can be." Kohaku mouthed the words with him. Naraku had said them many times before. Now, If it was coming from Jakotsu as well, it had to be true.

He didn't tell Jakotsu that he couldn't tell the difference anyway.