A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little bit, and I just needed to write today. I really can't think of anything else to do for my other story I'm working on, ACE, and so I just decided to try this.

Okay, so. This story is based off of some strange, warped idea I got while watching Disney's Beauty and the Beast recently. Right, a few things you should know.

1) I have no idea when the next update will be. As far as priorities go, ACE comes first. I really didn't want to start anything before I finished ACE, but I needed to write something. Besides, ACE was giving me a hard time.

2) This story starts out first person POV, then moves to third. Just in case it confuses you.

3) Any more questions about this, just review. In fact, I'd like people's opinions on this story anyway. I really don't know if I should keep it up, and feedback would help my decision.

Now, for the other stuff I need to take care of. Like the disclaimer.

Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own anything from Disney, Rumiko Takahashi, or Yoshihiro Togashi, including ideas, people, places and anything else I'm missing. This is the only time I will say it, because I tend to forget this sort of thing.

Also, this WILL be a crossover. I just ask you to be patient in the characters appearing. Don't expect to see any Yuyu Hakusho characters until later in the storyline. I'll tell you right now that there will, unless I have a change of heart, be NO Yuyu people in the village. So don't complain.

It is also a Youko/Kagome pair, for those who are curious. Okay, so enough rambling! Let's get this story started.

Edit Note (4.24.06): This story is NOT in first person! The first bit just sets up the story and gives a little foreshadowing. Please, give it a chance. Or, if you are totally against first person, then skip to the non-italicized part. Thank you.

Edit Note 2 (4.24.06): This is now part of my Interpreted Fairytales series.

You've heard the story of Beauty and the Beast. An old french fairytale. One of learning to love someone for who they are on the inside and not the outside. A story of hope, passion and magic.

Right.

Forgive me, but as I write down my thoughts, I can't help but shake my head and sigh. How, oh, how did my story get so distorted? I mean, okay, so they didn't know half of what really went on in the castle over the hill, but this is ridiculous.

Oh, pardon me. I should probably fill you in on what all of this means. If you are reading this, right now you should be thoroughly confused, right?

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kagome Higurashii. I am an old woman now, not like I was back then. I'm wrinkled and pale with age, both my face and my hair. How hair can be wrinkled is beyond me, but now I'm getting off subject. Ahem. With my age, I've got everything to go with it. Aching bones that tell me when a particularily bad storm is about to hit, shaking legs that need the aid of a walking stick in order to get from one room of my small cottage to another.

Hard to believe that this old, withered vessel used to be called the Belle of the town, eh?

Well, at least, it is for me. Ah, I can remember the good old days when I used to be able to skip across my father's flower fields in the back of our four room farm house. I still remember having that lush head of black hair, dark enough to contest even the blackest of nights. I had darker skin back then, too. My old sack of skin gets burned easily nowadays. Oh, how I miss being able to run in the sunlight, not worrying if I stayed out too long or not.

Alas, time is a fickle thing. About the only thing that has stayed the same are my muddy eyes.

At least, mostly the same. Ah, my eyes have seen too much to be the same innocent orbs they were back then. Of course, as a sixteen year old beauty, my life had been sheltered. Ah, yes, ignorance is bliss, they say. Heh. I was so ignorant back then that I was ecstatic.

Okay, well, now I'm just rambling. That's right, the reason I had started all this. By now, I hope I haven't lost your attention completely and forced you to put this beautiful book back onto the shelf. If you have, that's your loss. And mine, too, now that I think of it.

Alright. So, now what? Well, I started writing for a reason. I want to tell people my story, the story that isn't full of songs and talking teapots, musical dancing and barking footstools. Oh, I saw my share of magic. Just not that...odd.

Besides, they didn't even get half of the facts right. Sure, I had a father. I also had a brother. It seems that many people seemed to have forgotten him, and replaced all that he did to help me with my not-so-adventurous father. I also recall having two suitors, not one, and also I remember there were only two women chasing the both of them. As to riding a horse that, miraculously, finds it's way all the way back home without once getting caught, killed, or side-tracked, I almost wish that was something that actually happened.

Hm. I seem to be wasting a good deal of paper in my introduction. Which means that I should probably wrap it up quickly, then. Let's see, what else should I say?

I know. Alright, as I write, I will tell nothing but the absolute truth. I never liked to lie, and the few times I did, I felt uneasy and guilty about it. Also, since I will be telling the truth, I can't garuntee that it'll be all nice and sweet. There will be blood, as much as I can remember, that is, and swearing enough to make even the hardiest of seamen blush. Most of that is due to the fair people of Tamashii castle, but I remember doing my own share of things.

Alright. Enough said, right? Now, I think it is time that I told my story. In my own twisted, special way of telling things.

Ladies and gentlemen, I, Kagome Higurashii, am proud to relate to you, the true story of Beauty and the Beast.

A warm spring day greeted the sunlight. The rays of light peered slowly over the treetops, chasing away a mist that had collected hours before. Birds ruffled their feathers and began to call to each other in sweet, melodic tones. Somewhere a mule bayed in a drowsy voice from being awakened out of it's peaceful slumber. Crickets wound down their concert and hopped off to find a new audience. Cats mewed from the front porch steps and pawed at the door of a small farming cottage. The wind-bleached wooden door stood unyeilding to the feline's demands. Horses trotted in and out of their loose boxes and the pasture, kicking up clods of grass and shaking their heads at the antics of the other residents.

Inside, the sun greeted a dark room through wooden shutters. A soft breeze pushed its way forcefully into the room, fluttering the bedcovers of the occupants bed. A small groan punctuated the silence of the room. A small form shifted under the blankets, turning from the sunlight to face a whitewashed wall, the bed protesting the movement. A simple bed, naturally, to match the simple stool and simple trunk that also graced the room.

A hasty knock broke the serene atmosphere. When no one answered, the old door unlatched and revealed the messenger. A young boy of ten winters held onto the door handle. His black, sleep-ruffled hair refused to lay flat against his skull. His nightshirt was little better. Rubbing sleepy brown eyes, the lanky youngster trotted over to the bed with a yawn. "Oi, sis," the young boy spoke, his sweet alto voice sounding out of place in the quiet darkness, "Dad sayin' yeh need t' get up now."

There was a slight movement in response, then the blankets shrunk as the owner of the room curled into a protective ball. "Go 'way, Souta. 'M sleepin'," a young woman mumbeled.

Shaking his head, the younger sibling turned heel and walked to the window. Throwing the shutters open, he breathed in the fresh morning air. "C'mon, 't's a new day. Dad says 'tis Market day 'nd yer gettin' t' take meh." No response. Shaking his head for his sister's morning attitude, he strode back to the bed. "Up an' at 'em!" he shouted at the sleeping form. Grabbing a fistful of material, he yanked the covers back to reveal his curled up sister.

The chill air made her shiver. Her knotted raven-black hair shifted with her as she sat up slowly. Looking around with a partially sleep-fogged mind, she blinked blearily. "Mhn?" Shaking her head, she sat up straighter and yawned. Her tangeled nightgown pulled at her torso and chest as she stretched, slowly and appreciatively. Brown eyes cleared themselves from the last dregs of sleep and met another, almost identical, pair.

Souta, youngest of two, laughed at his sister's appearence. "Ye look like Buyo afore we clip 'im."

The young woman glared. "That's not very nice, you know. How are you ever going to get a girlfriend with that attitude, brother dear?" Standing, and wincing as blood began to flow back to her legs, she strode to a small table, half-forgotten in the corner. A small blue book lay upside down, marking the page where the reader had left off the night before.

Souta eyed the book dubiously. "Dun tell meh; yeh stayed up readin' yer book all nigh'?" The young boy was met with a glare. "Kag'me, ye know ye shudden' read. What'll th' vill'gers be thinkin'? 'Tis not right fer no woman t' read!"

Kagome, picking up the book and closing it, tsk-ed. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't care what the villagers think. If I have to give up something that I love to do for the sake of fitting in, then dammit, I'll stand out." She opened her trunk and placed the book just inside, next to a pile of brown skirts. "Besides, it's fun to read. I don't know why you don't like it," she told her brother in a scolding tone.

"Dunno why ye do," he retorted. Ducking a shirt thrown his direction, he quickly fled the room and left his sister to dress for the day.

Souta sat at a small, round table in what was declared as the kitchen. His rickety chair squealed with each movement as he fidgeted impatiently. Now sporting a pair of homespun brown breeches, undyed cotton shirt and leather vest, he was much more comfortable. However, that still didn't excuse the fact that his dear sweet sister was taking her time with dressing. Perhaps she had gotton stuck tying her bodice, or misplaced a stocking? He laughed at the thought. After all, his sister had had no help dressing herself for a good six years. More than likely, she was reading. Again.

As if his thoughts were a call, Kagome walked into the room. Her shirt shifted with each movement as she went over to a small fireplace. Snagging a bowl from a shelf nearby, she rolled up her blouse sleeves and served herself some porridge from a pot overhanging the fireplace. The fire underneath crackled lazily at her as she straightened herself and made her way to the table. Setting the bowl down, she took a chair and began to cautiosly spoon her meal into an awaiting mouth.

She looked over to her brother. "Oh, be patient," she said between mouthfuls of the almost scalding breakfast. "You can wait for me to break my fast quietly, or I'm not taking you with me."

Just as Souta was about to retort, a voice interrupted him. "Ye'll not be takin' tha' tone with yer brother, ye hear?" Kagome sat up straighter and Souta snapped his mouth shut as a slightly overweight and balding man entered from the front door of the cottage. Rubbing the crown of his head, a small patch where his white hair didn't quite cover his reddened skin, he stomped inside and set down the hand ax he had been carrying right inside the door.

"Yes, papa." Kagome bowed her head obediently, holding the retort she wanted to let out. When she looked up, her brother had a smug look on his face and Kagome clenched her hands.

Their father took his own seat at the table, fully taking up one side of the area. His strong arms reached across the table and snagged the bowl that sat in front of Kagome. "Jus' fer tha', ye cun leave now."

Kagome clenched her teeth and stood. The chair scraped against the floor, and she covered the anger on her face by straightening her leather bodice. Her father gave her a look, which was pointedly ignored, and Kagome addressed her brother. "I'll get my basket, and we can go."

Walking back past the front door and the fireplace, Kagome resisted the urge to throw open her bedroom door. How come her brother won all the time? It wasn't fair. Kagome worked harder than both of them, balancing the household chores with farmwork. She even had the proof of how much she did around here. With all of the labor she did on a regular basis, she had well developed arm and leg muscles. Hell, she even found time to read with her busy schedule! That was more than she could say for her illiterate family members.

Snagging a wicker basket that sat on her stool, she made sure her book was well covered with the woolen cloth she carried with it. If her dear father caught her with another book from the town bookstore owner... She shuddered to think of what her punishment would be. Alas, she was a woman. And as such, she had little to no say in anything. At all. Ever.

Resigning herself to whatever fate had in store for her, Kagome hurried outside to make her way to the market.

End Chapter
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