Disclaimer: I don't own Inu-Yasha, Kagome, or any of the other fine inhabitants of that certain Feudal Fairy Tale we all love so much. This is definitely an AU of some sort. I also don't own Vincent Kennedy McMahon or any of his crew, no matter how amusing they can be. ' ' is for text messages, I hadn't noted that before but that's what it is.

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Eddie Guerrero, who passed away 11/11/2005. Your spirit will be missed.

They had not wasted a single opportunity to push the underdog angle so to speak for the Royal Rumble. Yasha was the number one entrant, Edge had a secure slot in the match but no idea what number would be his. Randy was pushing hard for the number thirty slot, promising great pain and punishment to be rained down on Yasha if such were so. Handsome and confident, the third generation superstar was ready for whatever slot he would be given of course, and quick to assure the fans of this, loudly and at every opportunity, but how sweet would it be to have the number thirty slot? Very, very sweet indeed, and rumors circulated even more wildly backstage about favors traded under the table as men became desperate for a slot, or finding out what number they might be brought in at if they were so lucky to get that slot.

To top this off, one of the first things Yasha was treated to when he snapped on the TV backstage was an extended clip featuring his ex-wife Kikyou looking like a million bucks as she strolled the backstage area. What he didn't know was that it was playing live, right as he was watching it, he'd just assumed that it was a pre-filmed reel to bulk up the live show. He wasn't sure if he would be competing tonight, or if he was who he'd be facing and he didn't like that either. It had him brooding, as he reached to snap off the TV because frankly the last thing he wanted to watch was his ex flirting with Edge, with Cena, with Kane … okay, that last one actually made him smirk, what a better match for Kikyou than the wrestler who styled himself as a monster? He heard the shower running beyond where he was sitting, and he had a ready grin for Kagome when she came out wrapped in a super thick white towel, it looked nicer on her than any stupid towel had the right to, and that was a fact. She went around the corner for a brush and Yasha heard the door swing open. He stood up like a shot and was ready to cuss at whoever had come in without knocking though he had hesitated in case it was one of Team Akita. He felt his face pale when he saw that it wasn't any of the guys, but Kikyou herself, the cameraman following her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey Yasha," she said it in a manner she must have thought was sensual but sounded almost tired and sad. "Can I get your opinion on this? I am going to wear it to the ring tonight."

If anything his face got even paler, and a look of almost vague nausea came over his face. This was not happening. No one had come to him to clear this and holy hell this was live TV! Kagome was around the corner in just a towel, and Kikyou was about to open her robe and flash him some stupid lacy lingerie.

"Kikyou, get out of our dressing room. I've got a real lady in here."

For a moment her expression looked dazed, and then came a sharpness to it. His expression warned her, but she opened her mouth to spout out something truly foul. Yasha just knew it, but the moment passed when Kagome abruptly came out bold as brass wearing a cute little sundress. Now, it was in no way the sort of weather that would call for a sundress, and Yasha wasn't even sure where she could have gotten it on such short notice, but he heard even the cameraman gasp. Kikyou was beautiful, but it was a hard cold beauty made colder by the perfection of her features and the way she packaged herself. Kagome was warmth, was life, was fire and feistiness, and her long dark hair gleamed wet combed back from her face and the faint droplets of water on her bare shoulders gleamed in the light the cameraman had brought in. He knew he was staring. Most men might have been lost looking at Kikyou in her lacy frillery, but Yasha only had eyes for Kagome in that soft cotton dress. He watched her until the last second, when her warm arms were sliding around his neck and her weight settled against his back, and he would have sworn the cameraman muttered "Lucky." This seemed to infuriate Kikyou who tried to say something smart and cutting, but Yasha just lifted a bored hand and waved her away. It felt so good to do that, that simple dismissal which would have once been so far beyond him to do. She left in a huff, and Yasha had a reward that he hadn't expected, a warm press of Kagome's lips to his cheek.

"You told her I was a real lady. No one has ever said that before."

"Keh. I was just sayin', is all."

But Kagome wasn't fooled, she'd felt that warmth in his cheek when her lips had touched his skin. Sometimes, just sometimes her Yasha could be almost achingly sweet, and those were the moments she kept in her heart to take out and think about later. They weren't often but they were sincere and that was what counted most. He said them, did those little things, and really meant them. No sweet words could match up to one of his warm growls for Kagome, his sidelong looks when he called her wench like it meant something else, like it meant "mine." As much as neither of them liked the fact, his ex-wife was still a force to be reckoned with and a source for plenty of possible future interference, and not just with matches. Kagome knew from her stunts that led to their fight and subsequently their match that Kikyou was not above lying or worse so she was smart enough to look out for traps, but they were all worried that she had more trouble to come in store for them all. Ironically they were safest from her while she was allied to Cena, because she had to focus much of her attention on him or lose her status and thus the attention and money that came with it. But if she were to break off from supporting Cena and struck up her own agenda, they all felt that would be a very bad thing indeed.

Two weeks later Kagome couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Now, pushwise, it was supposed to be Yasha who took the win. He would have to fight his butt off for it, there was no doubt about it. If something happened, if he got hurt, and this was what worried Kagome most, someone else would have to step up and it would all be for nothing. All the heart wrenching losses he'd had to eat, his pride swallowed, the beatings he'd taken all for the shot, having to watch his brother support his opponent when neither of them wanted that, all would be for nothing if something went wrong. Yasha wouldn't be able to compete in Wrestlemania with a blown knee or a busted arm, but there was nothing he could do but take as much care as possible until then. He'd have to take bumps, everyone was expected to, though he'd do his best to take as few sick bumps as he could. No diving at the concrete, no breaking through furniture if Kagome had anything to say about it, though Yasha was making no promises and as he had laughingly pointed out to her steel chairs were his nemesis anyway, not tables. She hadn't found it nearly as funny as he and Miroku had, stalking off in a fit of anger though Yasha could have sworn he heard her giggling once she shut the door behind her.

The time passed quickly, though to Kagome's extreme displeasure the night before the Royal Rumble Yasha had been jumped in the back by both Edge and Randy Orton. He was sporting a couple of stitches on his forehead covered by a band aid that certainly wouldn't last the night. He kept telling Kagome and the others that he was fine, that he just had a little headache and that was all. It wasn't true, he had a minor concussion and with that came nausea of course, he'd told Sesshoumaru but no one else. He couldn't just give up, not after all they'd both gone through though his brother made him promise that if he couldn't take it to just stop. He wouldn't stop, wouldn't give up, not now. So he'd just have to win, so he didn't break his promise to his older brother. He did have one thing to make him smile though, and it kept a smile on his face despite how he was feeling. Neither Lita nor Bob Orton were going to be anywhere in the building tonight to support either Edge or Randy. He hadn't asked his brother just what he'd said to either of them, but from reports Lita had left the building and was holed up in the hotel, refusing to come out. Yasha got a bit of glee guessing, he figured it was most likely that he'd shown Lita a few pictures of people he'd wrestled in Japan and told her that he'd make an even worse example of Edge. Most people in the US just didn't understand the respect and even fear that Sesshoumaru commanded in Japan and Brazil, but they really should have done a bit of research. All those girls that liked to scream for him might think twice about it if they had seen what he could do with a kendo stick and a lead pipe … but then again, maybe not, American girls did seem to like the bad boys, the badder the better. What made it worse was the fact that on more than one occasion both Randy and Bob had made fun of Sesshoumaru because Bob had broken his arm. Yasha imagined that Sesshou had simply told Bob that if he showed his face at the arena for the Royal Rumble, that what he would do to his son would pale in comparison to his broken arm, and more than likely he had provided pictures for that too. Sesshoumaru was beyond hardcore, and it was time that certain folks remembered that, because he was certainly not above injuring someone and then paying off whatever fine was levied to get him out of trouble. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before after all, just not here in the UGW.

In plain fact, had his arm not been injured, there would be a few folks that would already have learned the lesson. But frankly it was only a delay, and one day there would be that reckoning. But that was the future, and Yasha was in the now, doing all he could to pay attention to Kagome so that he could keep up the act that he was fine. His head hurt, his stomach was doing flips, but he managed a slight curve of lips just for her. Then it was all moving forward, and she was holding his hand and leading him down the ramp to the ring as the announcer introduced him as the number one entrant to this year's Royal Rumble. She was surprised that he'd wanted her to hold his hand like that, and he didn't tell her why. It was because he wasn't sure that he could walk a straight line down the ramp. She'd have thrown a fit, had she known, and maybe afterwards he'd tell her but not now. Once he was in the ring adrenaline would take over and carry him through, but for now he stood waiting in the center of the ring when Gregory Helms' music began. This made Yasha smile wickedly, he'd been no match for Yasha as Hurricane, and he'd be no match for Yasha now.

Three minutes:

Gregory went over the top rope, and in came Eddie Guerrero.

Six minutes:

Chris Benoit enters.

Nine minutes:

Psychosis enters; Chris Benoit is thrown over the top rope by Eddie and Psychosis.

Twelve minutes:

Rhyno enters.

Fifteen minutes:

Edge enters almost reluctantly; Eddie, Psychosis, and Rhyno are all tossed out by Yasha.

Eighteen minutes:

Christian enters and strikes up a bargain with Edge.

Twenty-One minutes:

Chris Jericho enters, drawing attention away from Yasha.

Twenty-Four minutes:

Nunzio enters.

Twenty-Seven minutes:

Undertaker enters; he immediately removes Nunzio and Christian.

Thirty minutes:

Kane enters.

Thirty-Three minutes:

Val Venis enters.

Thirty-Six minutes:

Golddust enters and is immediately removed by Edge, who is removed by Kane.

Thirty-Nine minutes:

Rob Conway enters; Kane is removed by Val Venis, camera gets a great surprised look pan shot on Yasha.

Forty-Two minutes:

Randy Orton enters; Undertaker removes Rob Conway.

Forty-Five minutes:

Rey Mysterio enters; Yasha is almost removed but does a 'skin the cat' to flip himself back inside at the last minute.

Forty-Eight minutes:

Gene Snitsky enters; Undertaker removes Val Venis.

Fifty-One minutes:

Matt Hardy enters, immediately teams with Yasha.

Fifty-Four minutes:

Big Show enters; removes Snitsky, Mysterio, tries to remove Undertaker but both go over the top, eliminating both men.

Fifty-Seven minutes:

Triple H enters.

Sixty minutes:

Hour one is over, Ric Flair enters. Yasha, Matt Hardy, Randy Orton, Triple H and Ric Flair are in the ring.

The next two hours were a nightmare to Yasha. He was having trouble focusing, and had whispered to Matt the truth, that he had a concussion. Matt did his best to keep the others from coming at Yasha in a group, and he was never happier than when Kouga entered. Randy was knocked cold in the corner, and when the pair lifted him to toss him over all three were eliminated by Triple H. It was his finest moment but unfortunately for Triple H, Yasha had gone on autopilot at that point. He was reacting sheerly on instinct, missing the last name called. All those that would come were done, and finally it was down to Yasha and one other man. JBL had had the coveted number thirty slot and was fresh as a daisy while Yasha was bloody, the stitches of course hadn't held and his golden eyes were pale, unfocused seeming. But every swing JBL took, every move, Yasha countered to the screams and cheers of the fans. Finally he ducked JBL's signature move, the Clothesline from Hell, coming up under the heavier man he lifted him up over his head, spun him into a vicious power bomb, then lifted him up while he was stunned and threw him over the top rope.

There was a moment of silence, then the crowd went insane, cheering and screaming his name as Team Akita came from the back, Kagome leading the way. Her little hands on his arms brought him back to himself with a shudder, and while he would deny it later, there were tears on his cheeks as she lifted his hand in victory. They took him out fast to get medical attention, but it was certain now. Yasha had won the Royal Rumble, and he would be in the Main Event in Wrestlemania.

A/N:

Two more chapters to go!