Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha…yada, yada, yada…Takahashi does…etcetera and so forth….And if you sue me, you'll get bubkiss, didley squat, and zilch in the deepest sense of the word, because I'm flat broke, and dreadfully ugly. It's just not worth it, you know? But please enjoy the story-that might just be worth reading…I hope.
CHAPTER 2: Wait (matsu)
Irritatingly, at first all he could do was stare at her—the same idiotic staring game he'd been playing almost constantly for the past five days. The same thought kept running around in his head, stuck on repeat since the moment she'd opened her eyes. He'd been watching her move, talk, and interact with the others—hell, he'd even spoken to her. And the whole time he'd been thinking only one thing.
Her eyes were gray.
Damn, but that surprised him more than it should have. It was jarring to see such light eyes in a face that looked so familiar. He'd really expected her eyes to be brown—deep, dark, and coolly concealed. Instead, her eyes were light, smoky, translucent, filled with warmth and uninhibited emotion. They stared at him as if they expected him to do something, which had him at a slight loss. Do what, damn it?
Even so, for some incomprehensible reason, he was relieved. So relieved it took him a few moments to absorb what she'd just said to him. In the stunned silence that followed her statement, her meaning finally hit him, and his mind snapped back into focus. Then he was staring at her again…in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"
She looked as if she was having as a hard a time believing herself as he was believing her. "I…" Her fingers trembled around her forehead. "I can't remember anything. I don't know how I got here—I can't even tell you my…name. My head is…there's something wrong." A tiny frown formed in the space between her eyebrows, and her hands settled onto her forehead, gripping tightly as if to combat pain. "I don't understand."
InuYasha's eyes narrowed and he exchanged a startled glance with Miroku before he turned a glare on her. "You mean to tell me that you don't remember anything—nothing at all?" She just stared at him blankly. "But…you have to remember something—" he glanced back at his manager, "—she has to remember something, doesn't she?"
Miroku shrugged, then fixed serious violet eyes on the girl on the futon. "Kaede told you that we're near Sounkyo. Does the name sound familiar at all?"
She blinked slowly, her smoky eyes staring with intense, if hazy, concentration at her questioner. "Sounkyo is…" Her voice had grown thick, her words more carefully pronounced, "…that's in Hokkaido, isn't it?" She paused. "But what am I doing in Hokkaido?"
InuYasha frowned, his eyes narrowing sharply. Was it his imagination, or was she having a hard time focusing her eyes?
Miroku stroked his fingers along his chin. "Where do you think you should be?"
"Uh…" Her eyes pressed tightly closed for a long moment, then drifted back up. "I'm not…sure."
"Do you know what country we're in?"
She blinked again, the palm on her forehead starting to massage absently. "Japan?" Somewhere deep inside, InuYasha felt himself tense. She suddenly looked…extremely drained.
Miroku's brow wrinkled, as he paused again, staring at her without really seeing her. "Hmm. Interesting. It appears that you haven't lost all of your memories. I wonder…" He looked over at Kaede. "Kaede. This is a result of her head injury, correct?"
The older woman didn't move from her critical inspection of the girl in front of her. "It's what's most likely. Head trauma has been known to cause certain types of amnesia. The severe hypothermia could also have contributed."
Kagome's hand dropped away from her forehead. Her body suddenly swayed where she sat. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she began to fall over.
"Watch out!" InuYasha was beside her instantly, catching her before her head could hit the hardwood floor. She lay like dead weight in his arms, obviously unconscious, but breathing evenly. He frowned, then turned to glare at Kaede. "What the hell happened?"
Kaede leaned forward and laid a hand against the girl's forehead. She frowned, and checked her pulse, then her eyes. She 'hmm'd', then glanced calmly at the hanyou across from her. "You can release her now, InuYasha. She is fine. I believe she just overexerted herself. Her injuries and her sleep have weakened her body."
He blinked, almost surprised to find that his hands gripped her so tightly, then lay her carefully—but quickly—back against the futon. "Is that normal?"
"It's quite normal. Her body suffered an incredible trauma, and it may be some time before she regains a normal functionality. The most dangerous threat was not waking at all. But now that she has, she should begin recovering at an increasing pace; it will only be of concern if she ceases to improve. We'll watch her closely for the next few days."
Miroku stepped forward, concerned. "And her memory?"
"That I cannot say. I know very little of the workings of the mind itself. It may be her memory will return to her little by little as time passes. It may never return at all." Kaede looked knowingly at them, encompassing both in her glance. "It may be she does not wish to remember whatever it is that brought her here. Trauma comes in many forms other than physical."
InuYasha let his gaze drift back to the strange womanl, grim lines bracketing his mouth, but he didn't reply. Miroku seemed of the same mind, and silence descended over the room. Kaede watched them carefully, then turned back to Kagome, dismissing them both. "Now if you two don't mind leaving the room, I would like to conduct a more thorough examination of our young guest." She paused, then lifted a wrinkled hand and flicked her gnarled fingers at them without looking back. "Actually, I don't care if you mind."
Eyes narrowed, InuYasha glanced over at Miroku, who shrugged with a rueful grimace. He got to his feet and exited the room, his manager right on his heels. The door scraped softly as it slid shut behind them.
They walked down the hallway, away from the spare back room they'd moved the girl to several days ago. Miroku kept his mouth shut only long enough for them to be out of earshot. "Well? Do we believe her?"
His jaw clenched, and he stopped in the middle of the hallway. His arms crossed and he slouched against the wall, his fingers strumming restlessly against a bicep, his gaze fixed steadily on the floor. "She wasn't lying, not that I could tell. Her scent never changed. She was just really confused, and…scared." Something twinged uncomfortably in his gut, and his brows tensed, lowering slightly. "But hell if I know whether to believe her or not." He shifted, frustrated. "Tch. Damn, this is a bad situation. What the hell are we supposed to do with some strange girl?"
Miroku's violet eyes measured him, side-eyed and cautious. "We could just try dropping her off at the nearest hospital and letting them handle her."
He scowled, not liking the suggestion at all. "And just let whoever took a shot at her find her again? Besides, if we were going to do that, we should have done it before we told her who we were and where we are. Either way, letting someone else deal with her now would have the police knocking at our door."
Miroku joined him in his lounge against the wall. "There is a possibility it was just random, you know—some hunter in the forest who saw something move and thought it was worth trying for."
InuYasha snorted skeptically. "And she was just out in below freezing temperatures, enjoying the scenery in one of the most dangerous, isolated areas around here? In her nightgown?"
His friend sighed, letting his head smack gently back against the wall. "I suppose not. No helping it, then. She'll stay here, and we'll watch her to see if she regains her memory. I can try and check up on her, but without any indication of who she is, or where she came from, it's not likely that I'll find anything."
He didn't respond, didn't move, didn't lift his gaze from the the floor.
"This could turn out to be a good thing, you know." The monk's tone had gone from reluctant to speculative—which meant that he was probably thinking of ways to turn the situation to his advantage. "We could put her to work in exchange for room and board—offer her a job, so to speak. It's a good way to keep an eye on her—and Kaede is getting old. Cleaning this place is harder for her than it used to be. It would make her life easier to have a helper around."
InuYasha rolled his eyes. "Keh." Kaede had been old before they had taken over the Sachi. It would just make Miroku's life easier not to have to scrub floors in the arthritic old hag's stead. "Whatever."
"Perhaps our lovely young Kagome will be able to cook as well." Now Miroku sounded positively enthusiastic.
He fought another snort. It always amazed him how quickly the monk could talk himself into anything that might possibly be to his advantage.
Miroku's gaze suddenly turned serious as he studied his friend once again. "You sure you don't have a problem with this? After all, she does look awfully similar to…"
"It's fine," he clipped, cutting off whatever else Miroku would have said.
"It won't bother you, seeing her every day?"
He scowled. "I said leave it alone, didn't I?"
Miroku hesitated, then shrugged.
A burst of laughter broke their silence, coming from the direction of the first living room. His ears perked, then twitched, trying to catch the words of the voices that cooed in admiration. He glanced at Miroku inquiringly.
He smiled back, nodding in the direction of the room. "He's been keeping them entertained since our beautiful visitor started showing signs of waking. He's very popular with the guests—especially the Americans. They love his little tricks." Another peal of laughter punctuated his words. "And he loves the attention."
Surprise lightened his features briefly. "So the brat actually knows how to be useful, huh?"
"He wouldn't be with us if he wasn't useful." Miroku suddenly snapped his fingers, smirking. "I know. Maybe she was meeting a lover. That's why she was in her nightgown."
InuYasha blinked, then turned his head away. "No. She wasn't." He negated the option flatly, automatically, almost without thought.
Black brows raised in surprise. "And you're so sure because…"
InuYasha's scowl blackened, and he pushed away from the wall, deciding he could probably find something better to do than stand here and talk to an imbecile.
Realization slid over Miroku's features as he watched his friend storm away. "Because that's something you would know, isn't it? Ahhhh…" A pause, then quietly. "And you said her appearance didn't bother you."
Gritting his teeth, he decided to pretend he hadn't heard.
The next time she woke up was a much less distressing experience for her. She became aware gradually, slowly realizing she was lying flat on her back, and her eyes were closed. It took her another moment to remember why. That's right…I was injured. She blinked slowly. And that man-hanyou…InuYasha….
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she took stock.
She felt much better this time—slightly groggy, but the pain was manageable. Her head barely ached, and the light streaming in through the open curtains didn't attempt to burn her eyes from her head when she opened them. She was in the same room as before, but none of the previous strangers was in sight. Hostile amber eyes flashed through her mind, and she sighed, wondering where he and the others with him had gone. And what she was supposed to do now.
Well, she wouldn't find out anything by just lying here.
Gathering herself, she attempted to sit up. Her limbs resisted her will, though, weighed down as they were by a blanket and a ton of thin air. With a little effort and every muscle protesting, she managed to lift herself up slightly, propping her body up on her elbows…
…and found herself looking directly into a pair of big, pale green eyes staring at her curiously.
She blinked. The green eyes didn't disappear, only widened slightly so they dominated the young face they belonged to. Bright, burnt orange hair framed innocent features, most of it tied back by a single, loosely held bow. It was a small child—a boy—who couldn't have been more than five or six years old.
He sat (or clung, as it seemed) to her chest, but he perched so lightly she'd barely felt him—even though the blanket had nearly defeated her. She blinked again. This wasn't a face she knew…she didn't think. "Um…hello?" She noted with relief that while her throat sounded and felt uncomfortably scratchy, it was nowhere near the garble it had been the last time she'd awaken.
The small mouth opened wide and drew in a deep breath, showing tiny pointed teeth, before exhaling dramatically. "Well it's about time. I've been watching for almost two hours now, and you haven't moved a muscle since I got here. Kaede didn't even ask me to watch you until after lunch, and you woke up first thing this morning, so you've been out for a long time." He frowned to himself. "Of course, before that you were out for five whole days, so I guess this is an improvement."
He leaned forward to study her critically, his adorably pert nose giving an obvious sniff; then, with a satisfied nod, he allowed himself to slide backwards onto her lap. "You look a lot better, anyway."
Taking the words as a cue, she gingerly pushed herself into a sitting position. He looked up at her from her lap, and she was surprised to spot a tail—fluffy, blond, and almost as big as his whole body. "I'm Shippou. I live out back with old Kaede, and I'm a very important part of the staff here at the Sachi." He nodded again, his crossed arms and self-important manner prompting a small smile to curve her lips.
She took in the pointed ears and the delicate-looking paws sticking out of his long blue pants before giving her own hesitant nod. "I am…" She trailed off in dismay, biting her lip. The sea of blankness remained in her mind, drowning her attempts to grasp something familiar. It was incredibly disconcerting to reach for something as simple as a name and come up with…nothing. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stricken by her own hollowness of self.
Shippou settled comfortably onto her lap, crossing both his arms and legs. "It's okay. I know you don't remember anything, so you don't have to worry about introducing yourself. We've just been calling you Kagome, 'cause of the necklace you're wearing."
Her brow furrowed lightly. "Necklace?" Her fingers drifted up to her neck, finding the thin chain, and stroking the characters hanging from them, the light pressure of the metal on her skin reassuring. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted a small sense of relief at finding the charm, and the calming effect it seemed to have on her spirit. Her fingers curled around the delicate silver, grasping firmly—almost of their own accord—and she wondered if the charm held any special significance to her.
"Kagome?" She said it aloud, testing the name. Then she nodded to herself, surprisingly content with the way it settled into her chest. It fit neatly inside her, like a matched puzzle piece. "All right." She bowed her head to the little youkai on her lap. "I'm Kagome. I am pleased to meet you, Shippou."
Shippou nodded his head in return. "Welcome to the Sachi inn, Kagome. You'll feel better in no time here." He cocked his head. "I'm sure you've noticed that I'm a youkai. I'm a kitsune, full-blooded—unlike InuYasha, who's only half. He owns the Sachi, though, so he gets to boss me around a lot."
The mention of her wayward savior caught her attention, and she murmured quietly. "InuYasha…" His restless amber gaze touched her thoughts again. She blinked, then refocused on the little one on her lap.
"But don't worry—InuYasha's still really strong, even though he's only a hanyou. So is Miroku—just don't let his idiotic behavior around women fool you. And you had better be careful around him. Miroku likes to grab women's—"
"Are you finally awake, child? I was beginning to worry again." A familiar, weathered old voice cut in on Shippou's informative speech, drawing the attention of both to the open door, and the old woman who stood behind it. Dark eyes watched her with compassion, and her old face wrinkled in a smile. "And how are you feeling?"
"I'm…" She considered for a moment. "I'm feeling much better, thank you…" She hesitated, then ventured cautiously, "…Kaede?"
The older woman stepped into the room, but her slight nod was enough to assure Kagome she'd remembered correctly. She drew in a deep breath and sighed as the older woman knelt by the futon, and reached for a pitcher sitting nearby on the floor. Kagome glanced at it in surprise, but gratefully accepted the cup of water Kaede handed her, sipping at the lukewarm liquid.
Kaede's gaze ran over her probingly as she drank, making a visual check on her posture, the way she moved, and the bandage on her head. "Do you feel stronger, this time, child? No dizziness or weakness? Does your head still pain you?"
Kagome lowered the cup, resting it on her thigh as she thought. "Well…my thoughts are clearer, and I don't feel so confused. I still feel weak, though—I have to force my body to do what I want it to do." Her free hand went to her temple. "And my head aches…but not as bad as before."
Kaede nodded. "It seems you are progressing quite nicely." She struggled to her feet. "I will bring you some soup. Your body has gone too long without food, and the nourishment will aid in your healing."
Kagome shifted, causing Shippou jumped back as she slipped her legs out from under the blanket. "Please, let me help." She managed to get to her feet, but swayed dangerously as her blood made a sloshing, drunken rush through her body. For a moment, her vision fogged. Her hand went to her forehead and she took an unsteady half-step back. "Oh…"
Kaede's hands were suddenly at her shoulders, supporting her as she helped her sit back down on the futon. Kagome blinked and breathed until the fog lifted, then stared up in dismay. Kaede only shook her head. "You must not try to do too much too soon. Only a week ago, you were offering greetings to death across its threshold. It will take some time before you are fully recovered."
Kagome drew a deep, steadying breath and sighed it out, watching the older woman make her way out of the room, wishing she didn't feel so helpless. At the door, she paused, and turned to cast an amused look over her shoulder. "I think perhaps I'll bring you a spare yukata as well. After you eat may be a better time to try moving around a little, and if you really wish to leave the room, you'll wish to be wearing more than that."
Then she vanished in an easy shuffle down the hall.
Frowning, Kagome glanced down at that. A plain white t-shirt. A plain white t-shirt that draped over her body and covered a good portion of her thighs, yes…but the thin cotton clung revealingly, making it obvious to even the most casual observer that she wore nothing underneath. She shrieked, startling poor Shippou, and scrambled back under the thick covering, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
"H-how did I get in a…" She stopped, realizing how ridiculous the question was, considering she didn't have the faintest clue what she'd been wearing before—if anything at all. Her eyes widened and a warm flush bled up her neck and into her cheeks as it occurred to her the hanyou who'd found her could very well have found her naked. Her stomach did an odd clutch, and her mind shied away from the possibility. "Never mind." She looked down at Shippou. "I haven't met you before, have I?"
Shippou clambered back to a comfortable spot on her lap. "No, I was already sleeping the night you got here, and I wasn't here when you finally woke up this morning. But I've been helping old Kaede take care of you since the morning after InuYasha found you." He paused, his brow furrowing. "InuYasha stayed the whole time. He refused to leave the room until after you passed out again this morning…I think maybe he was worried about you."
The last part gave her body a slight jolt, a tiny current that twisted briefly inside her chest and belly. Those hostile golden eyes had been…watching her? She stared at Shippou, not sure what to think. "O-oh…"
He stared back, green eyes wide. "You know, I don't think InuYasha and Miroku know what to do with you. They've been talking about it on and off all day—until InuYasha gets fed up with Miroku and storms off." His hand stroked at his chin. "Of course, that's just normal for around here. They've known each other a long time, and Miroku is good at getting under InuYasha's skin."
He frowned thoughtfully at her. "I wonder what they'll decide. You're already getting better, so taking you to the hospital is pointless; and you don't have your memories, so they can't help you find your family or friends. And it's not like InuYasha can just put you back where he found you." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "It's not even as if they can even go to the police, because—"
A small clay cup smacked into the side of Shippou's head, knocking him off her lap. Kagome started in shock. She reached out to see if he was all right, but he rebounded instantly, whirling on soft paws to glare at the door, tiny fists clenched. "Hey! What was that for?!"
Kagome followed his gaze to find the man with the smooth voice—Miroku, he'd said—standing in the doorway, a tray cradled between his left hand and his body. He was smiling sheepishly. "Ah, gomen, gomen, Shippou. It slipped. You know how it is." He waved his right hand in a placating gesture.
Shippou rubbed at his head, glaring suspiciously at the other man's hand. "It sure slipped hard for something that came from your weakest hand."
Miroku just shrugged and stepped into the room, settling onto his knees on the floor beside Kagome, while Shippou retrieved the cup and set it by the water pitcher. "Anyway, Shippou, you shouldn't be worrying the poor girl about what will happen tomorrow while she's still trying to recover today." He set the tray down, and she saw it held a bowl of soup and a small portion of rice.
He smiled at her. "From Kaede. She told me to tell you to eat as much as you can and she'll be along shortly with a yukata. My apologies about the t-shirt—we should have thought to put on something more substantial, but at the time, your health was more important than your modesty."
Kagome colored slightly, but shook her head. "No, please, it's fine." She accepted the bowl with a little bow. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, for being such an inconvenience to you. For all your kindness and generosity in taking care of me, thank you."
Again, his right hand waved in the air dismissively. "Not at all. It's our pleasure to have such a beautiful young woman staying with us." A pale flash of white on the inside of the hand caught her attention. She blinked, and found herself focusing on a small circle of raised tissue in the center of his palm. Her eyes widened slightly. That scar. What….
Miroku noticed her scrutiny, and a brief, almost non-existent hesitation stalled him. Then he lowered his hand, palm outward so she could see more clearly.
"Strange-looking, isn't it?" His friendly tone didn't change as he spoke. "It's an old injury. A tragic accident, I'm afraid—my fault." He rotated his hand so she could see the same circular tissue marring the skin on the other side. "It caused some permanent nerve damage, so now I can't use my right hand as well as I once could. See?" He wiggled his fingers, demonstrating the slight stiffness of the digits, and his inability to straighten his hand out completely.
Kagome flushed again, sympathy for the old wound rising to mix with the embarrassment she felt at being caught staring so rudely. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean….That's terrible."
He smiled again, the deep violet of his eyes was clear and unperturbed. He had a nice, ready smile—Kagome found it very comforting. "Don't be. It happened a long time ago, and I'm used to it now. It's not so great an inconvenience." He gestured to the bowl. "Please, eat."
Carefully, she complied, bringing the bowl to her mouth. The warm liquid was good—slightly salty—and the seasoned trickle felt good against her underused throat. She breathed a mental sigh of relief when her stomach didn't object.
Miroku tilted his head, his speculative gaze never leaving her face. "It's heartening to see you up and around. You weren't exactly in the best of shapes when you arrived." He paused. "Have you been able to recall anything about what happened to you yet?"
A sharp pang ran through her, and she hesitated, then slowly lowered the bowl onto the blanket covering her lap. "I…I remember waking up here, and meeting all of you, but…"
Her eyes closed, and once again, she strained, struggling to find something—anything—that she could tell them; but her mind remained stubborn and blank, refusing to relinquish any details. She shook her head, and her eyes slid open to stare at the half-empty bowl, whatever appetite she'd had vanished. "I'm sorry. I just don't…know." Frustration laced through her tone, pushed a knot low in her chest.
The weight of her situation suddenly hit her—hard. She had no money she knew of, no friends or family she remembered…not even the clothes on her back belonged to her. She couldn't intrude here forever—yet she had nowhere else to go, and only the patience and generosity of strangers to support her. Panic rose like bile in her throat, producing a bad aftertaste and a thick ache that promised tears. Her fingers tightened reflexively around the bowl.
Just what in the world was she supposed to do?
From his place near her feet, Shippou stared at her miserable expression. After a moment, he moved forward, scooting close to her side and reaching out a small hand to pat reassuringly on her thigh. Surprised, she glanced down at his solemn gaze. "It's okay, Kagome. You don't have to remember."
Miroku shifted, his hands fisting on his knees, the look on his face repentant. "Indeed. My apologies Miss Kagome. I didn't mean to cause you distress. Please don't feel that it's necessary to push yourself. You shouldn't worry so much about your current situation. You're welcome here as long as you need it."
Kagome hesitated, allowing her gaze to drift slowly between them—from the man with the earnest gaze, to the little kitsune with the worried frown, and back again. Two honest and sincere faces, doing their best to reassure her, to make her believe all would be well. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, the choking thickness in her chest slowly dissipating as a tiny, grateful smile curved her lips.
A frisson of awareness shot down her spine. Hot little prickles went dancing across her skin, followed by a fleeting ripple of gooseflesh. She stilled, certain she knew the cause. InuYasha. Her lips parted on a silent indrawn breath, and she raised her head to meet the impassive golden eyes that studied her from the doorway.
That tiny little shock leapt in her belly again, causing her to blink; one of his ears twitched, and he started imperceptibly, drawing back. Immediately, his expression grew belligerent, and for a moment, Kagome was sure he would walk away. Then he shifted forward, smoothly crossing the room on silent feet to crouch down in front of her. His eyes never left hers, and she found it difficult to pull away from his.
A bundle of cloth was tossed onto her lap. "Here." His voice was gruff, quiet.
She blinked, then looked down at the loose pile of material that was obviously the promised yukata. She hadn't noticed him carrying it. Her hands clasped in the soft blue folds, and she looked back up. "Thank you." Her volume matched his.
He shrugged, his eyes slipping from hers to wander aimlessly around the barren room. "Don't thank me. The old bat said you needed it." His focus jumped back to her, his expression wary. "So you're sure you don't remember anything, huh? That's sure as hell convenient for you, isn't it?"
Her eyes widened at the sudden, almost accusing skepticism in his tone. "N-no. I'm sorry. I really don't…" Her gaze faltered under his, anxiety nipping at her thoughts. He'd heard their conversation—she knew he had. Didn't he believe her? Or…was she just not really welcome here? Was she too much of a burden after having been injured and unconscious for so many days? He was the owner of this place, after all. Maybe….
"InuYasha, you're an idiot! We just get done making her feel better and you go and make her feel bad again!" Shippou's furious words drew her divided attention back just as the kit picked up the clay cup and hurled it at InuYasha. She winced as the cup flew by her head.
To her astonishment, with an easy, lightning quick movement, InuYasha plucked the cup from the air in front of his face, and launched it right back with an annoyed scowl. "Back off, brat." Kagome winced again as the cup hit its target with a hollow thunk, producing a loud wail from the child. Poor Shippou. His head must be hurting worse than hers by now.
She made a soft sound of protest. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
Now he was glaring at her. "What? He threw that cup at me first. He knows better."
"He's just a child."
He snorted. "He's a youkai brat. He barely felt a little lump like that."
She felt her brows draw together, slightly indignant at his unconcerned attitude. "You're youkai too, aren't you? How is that any different than a normal adult hitting a child?"
"He's not a normal human—it's a lot harder to hurt him. I'm telling you he's fine." His eyes narrowed. "Are you always this rude to people who save your life?"
Her cheeks flushed hotly. "Are you always this disrespectful of the people who work for you?"
She caught a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the set of his features. He blinked twice, staring at her. Then he snorted again. "Tch. Since when is how I treat my friends any of your business?" He threw the question at her, sounding irritated and slightly angry…but his gaze had taken on a strange, distracted manner.
She felt her color heighten as his eyes began to wander. They were tracing her features, and for her it was like a physical touch—the soft trail of golden fingers over her warm cheeks, a heated caress along her mouth. The bizarre sensation melted through her, a liquid rush of warmth that spread outward before concentrating into a tense electric knot that nestled in the lowest regions of her belly.
Her eyelids fluttered slightly. She dragged her eyes away from his unsettling inspection to stare at her long-forgotten bowl. "It's n-not. I didn't mean…" Her breath felt funny—shallow, uneven. Her head bowed even lower. "I…I'm sorry."
A long silence followed her apology. She bit her lip, afraid she'd offended everyone. Then Miroku chuckled, breaking the quiet, and Kagome glanced over at him. He looked pleased. "Well, I'm impressed, Miss Kagome. Standing up to InuYasha takes courage…but shaming him is an art."
She risked a glance back at the hanyou, and was surprised to see him staring at her, the look on his face rather odd, somewhere between stunned and alarmed. His surprise softened his features and made him look much younger and less threatening than his previous expressions had—he looked almost…cute. Then he ruined it by darting a glare at his manager. "Shut up, Miroku. Shippou deserved what he got."
"Maybe." Miroku's deep violet eyes laughed at him. "But you know very well that you shouldn't have snapped at her like that. The poor girl has only just woken up, and I imagine she's very confused by all this."
"Yeah. You should be more understanding of little kids, too." Shippou finally piped up from a reasonably safe distance behind Kagome's left arm.
InuYasha's fingers curled into a fist he pointed threateningly at the small kit. "You looking for some more, Shippou?"
"I think perhaps our guest has had enough excitement, don't you?" Miroku glanced at Kagome. "Are you all finished eating? There's still rice, if you want some."
Kagome was somewhat confused by the rapid change in atmosphere, but the obvious fact that she hadn't offended her hosts registered clearly. A small smile formed on her lips, and she shook her head and handed the bowl back to Miroku. "No, thank you. I think I've had enough for now."
She did have another need, though, one that was making itself more and more evident as time went by. Her brows furrowed as she glanced around the room. "Umm…where is Kaede?"
InuYasha sat back on his heels, then pushed upward, rising in one smooth movement to stand on bare feet. She was slightly disappointed to see the wariness had returned to his gaze as he glanced down at her. "I saw her a little while ago, heading for the second floor. She said she had something to do and then handed me that thing and told me to give it to you." His brows crinkled slightly. "Said not to let you walk around too much yet."
Uh-oh. "Will she be back any time soon?"
A shrug. "Beats me. I'm not even sure why she was going upstairs."
Great. Could she wait? This was definitely not something she wanted to ask of three strange males—no matter how friendly two of them might be. Well…really, all she needed was directions, anyway. "Well, then, could someone—I mean, could one of you please point out…" All three looked at her inquiringly, and a blush, hot and red, colored her face. "I umm, have to…I really have to use…" Stop being silly and say it! "Could you tell me where the restroom is?"
It was almost comical, the way that comprehension dawned on three faces at once. Miroku set the tray aside. "How thoughtless of us. Of course." He leaned forward, reaching for the yukata in her lap. "Why don't I help you put this on and it will be no trouble to—"
InuYasha was suddenly standing between them, scowling. "What did I tell you about touching her? She sure as hell doesn't need your help to put on a stupid robe…and you're not taking her anywhere, either."
Miroku looked indignant, but he sat back and crossed his arms with an innocent little huff. "She should have some help if she's going to try walking around, don't you think, InuYasha? I was just thinking of her welfare."
"Keh. You were just thinking of her ass." He sighed, the sound heavy and annoyed, then turned to her. "Hurry up. Put that thing on and I'll take you and make sure you get back okay."
Kagome was feeling pretty indignant herself, and she probably resembled a cherry after they had made such a big deal out of her request. She didn't need help to go to the bathroom. She was injured, not invalid. Besides, did he have to make it sound like a huge inconvenience? "Please, you don't have to come with me. Just tell me where it is. I'll be fine."
He rolled his eyes. "Sure. Just like you were fine when I found you, and just like you were fine right before you passed out the last time, right? Look, it's no big deal—just put that thing on, and I'll show you where to go, and make sure you don't collapse on the way."
Shippou didn't help when he added thoughtfully, "Kagome did almost faint when she tried to stand up earlier. It might be better if InuYasha walks with her."
As if that settled it, all three males turned to stare expectantly at her.
She almost argued, but decided that besides being petty, it would get her nowhere. Mildly irritated, she whipped the yukata around her shoulders, not even thinking of removing the shirt first. She shoved her arms into the wide sleeves, and stood as quickly as her body would allow, wrapping the garment around the shirt and belting it closed with the obi.
She looked up as she finished tying the knot. "There, you see, I'm—" She broke off with a gasp as once again—oh, damn—the blood rushed through her head. Her vision flooded with strange shapes and fuzzy colors. A voice spoke sharply somewhere in the background, but the words were nothing more than muffled gibberish. She was unable to decide if she was sitting, standing, or falling—it felt as if she was doing all three at once. She wobbled. A warm palm grasped at her elbow, a firm and steady pressure in a torrent of mind-bending distortion. Confused, she reached out and clutched at the arm with her free hand, her fingers curling into the soft material covering the skin, clinging for dear life to the one thing that wasn't moving.
It took a few moments for the onslaught to recede, but gradually, the mad whirling in her head died down, and the colorful film over her eyes faded away. She drew a huge breath and let it out slowly as she once again found her center of gravity.
Her eyes focused on the gray threads of a knitted top. Slowly, she followed the threads up the rise of a chest, to where it lay loosely against the skin of a masculine throat. Her eyes flicked up, and her breath hitched in her lungs. InuYasha stared down at her from inches away, amber eyes darkened with concern, black brows compressed in a tiny frown. Stunned to find him so close, her hands released their grip on his arm and she stepped back…and almost tripped in the folds of the blanket covering the futon.
His eyes widened, and he released her elbow to grab hold of her waist, strong fingers digging in and then lifting her off the thin bedding, setting her feet on solid wood—a good distance away from him—with an exasperated 'tsk'. "There. Do you see? It'll be a hell of a lot of trouble if you topple over like that again. You could crack your damn head open for sure next time." He pulled his hands away hesitantly, watching her closely to make sure she could stand on her own.
Mortified at her clumsiness, and still slightly dizzy, Kagome nodded—a meek, submissive gesture which didn't feel quite right on her (although she was still at a loss as to why), but seemed the best way to get him to ferry her along just then.
After a moment, he sighed and stepped around her. "Let's go. You don't look like you'll be able to stand for very long."
For a good ten minutes of absolute silence, all she did was stare. Her reflection, her face. The woman in the mirror stared back, her features painted with the same wonder and dismay Kagome felt as she stood before the mirror like a prisoner before a judge.
Her hand went to her nose, fingers sliding gently down the straight bridge. As if to reassure her, the image before her did the same. She watched fingertips feather over the smooth skin, skimming the curled edges of dark lashes. She blinked, and wide gray eyes blinked back. The fingers didn't stop, but outlined over every prominence—the arch of an eyebrow, the slope of a cheekbone, the slim line of a jaw—before coming to rest against soft lips, dry and chapped.
She noted absently that her nails needed a trim.
How strange. She knew the lines of this face. She was familiar with that curve at the end of her jawbone, had somehow expected the small ears to peak from the mass of inky black hair that—she grimaced, and obediently, the features in the mirror twisted accordingly—was in desperate need of a wash. She hadn't been at all surprised to see the face that peered back at her, and yet…
And yet she didn't know it, not really. The face before her was both familiar and foreign, an alien landscape that had been mapped, then misplaced. Nothing came to mind upon seeing it—nothing clicked, nothing sparked—and yet she knew the exact curve of every feature, would have been shocked to see anything but this when she'd first paused to look.
How could she know, but not know?
She took a deep breath, her fingers going to the thick white strip of cloth around her head, rubbing gently along the area where the padding was thickest; to the specific spot where pain throbbed from a line that radiated outward to her whole head. What happened? How did I get here? What was I doing, and why can't I remember…anything?
Her hands fell to the sink, along with her gaze, and she sighed. She felt lost, floating aimlessly in a space with no up or down and no ground to stand on. She had no idea what to do next.
She frowned wearily. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do. Her situation was what is was, and she had no choice but to make the best of it. She thought back to the room, and the panic that had threatened to overwhelm her when she'd first realized. To the reassurance they'd tried so hard to give her.
Everyone here was so kind. They had taken her in—a complete stranger—and nursed her back to health at the expense of their own time and effort. Why they hadn't just taken her to a hospital was beyond her ability to comprehend, but she found herself glad.
Nor, strangely, did she feel compelled to call on the police. Something inside her immediately shied away at the thought of authorities of any kind. She mused over that realization for a moment, but could find no concrete reason for it. She gave a mental shrug. Just as well—according to Shippou, they wouldn't go to the police anyway. Whatever the reason, she would just be thankful not to have to deal with them.
She gripped the edges of the sink. That still left the problem of what to do after she was fully recovered. She would have to leave, eventually, and try to piece together what had happened to her. The prospect was a daunting one, so overwhelming when she didn't even know who she was, she simply couldn't face it. So she tucked it away into a corner of her brain for consideration at a later date.
But more than anything, she wanted to repay the people here for their kindness. She wished there was something—anything—she could do to show them her appreciation.
She glanced at the door, conscious of the male standing on the other side, waiting for her. InuYasha. The owner of this place. If it weren't for him, she'd think maybe she could stay here.
Of all the things she had encountered since waking up here, he confused her the most.
He didn't seem to like her very much, and he certainly didn't trust her. He hadn't said a word as he'd led her through the multiple hallways to the bathroom, hadn't touched her, hadn't offered any support. He'd barely looked at her, just glowered at the walls as they passed by. It was obvious he didn't want her around.
And yet his eyes had shown concern. His touch had been gentle and considerate when he'd kept her from falling. He was the one who had saved her life.
He made her jumpy, nervous, uncomfortable. Except…when he stared at her, when their eyes connected…she felt strange. Her insides tensed up, and she couldn't find her breath. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, just disconcerting. And—she thought back to his rather chagrined look when he thought he'd upset her—she had the feeling he had more to him than that prickly, rude exterior….
Maybe.
After all, he'd called the others his friends, not his employees. From what she'd seen, they were all obviously very close. Miroku and Shippou seemed to trust him—they'd acquiesced to his commands fairly quickly.
Now if only he trusted her. She sighed again, tired of worrying about what would happen tomorrow. Fatigue swept over her, and every muscle in her body went limp, making it harder to move, signaling her to hurry up and finish—she might have overdone it. Besides, the owner was waiting.
She reached out and turned on the water.
His ears twitched absently as he slouched against the wall in the hallway, arms and feet crossed casually. The only sign of his impatience was the tapping of one finger against his arm.
He scowled. Just what the hell is she doing? It had been ten minutes since he'd heard anything at all. She should have been out by now. He twitched his ears again, straining to catch even the smallest hint she needed help.
He was just about to say to hell with etiquette and go storming in, when a faint, despondent little sigh reached his ears, assuring him she was still conscious. With a tiny grumble, he relaxed back against the wall. He'd never been able to figure out what it was with women and bathrooms. As if the damned stupid woman hadn't already taken enough of his time.
Then he sighed. He should probably cut her some slack. After all, according to her, whatever life she'd had was gone, vanished in one night, in one instant. His right ear flicked, and he shifted uncomfortably, fighting his own thoughts, and the sympathy that tensed the muscles in his arms, hardened the grips of his fingers. She would be feeling very lost right now—frustrated, directionless, alone. Probably scared. The need to disappear, to get away and think…he understood that.
His mouth tightened. That was, if she was telling the truth.
Except, as far as he could tell, she was telling the truth. But only as far as he could tell. She could just be one hell of a good liar; she wouldn't be the first he'd met.
His mind flashed at him, images of her face since she'd arrived. At first, she'd been unconscious, blissfully unaware, and for a solid week, he'd been able to do nothing but stare at her and wonder. Wonder what her eyes looked like, wonder what she'd have to say, wonder what in the hell had happened to her, and why in the hell it had to happen anywhere near him. Then she'd come awake, and it had be she who stared at him, gray eyes wide with so much naked emotion: confusion, pleading, agitation, shock…
Irritation. Surprise. Utter fascination. Her eyes hadn't left him alone.
Damn, damn, damn! He didn't like it, this…this weirdness, this unwitting influence she had over him. It disturbed him, made him want to fight, to throw it off and be rid of it. But it wouldn't let him go. He could still feel the involuntary tug that had pulled at him from the first second her eyes touched his. For an instant, it had been so strong that he'd wanted to run. He'd wanted to turn and dash out into the forest, and fill his lungs with the wild, frozen scents of animals and trees—had even gone so far as to turn his back—just to erase the warm, inviting scent of her from his mind.
Except it had never been in his nature to run away.
Another sigh reached his ears, followed closely by the sound of running water. He glared at the bathroom door. It's about godsdamned time. His heel hit the wall, eager to get her back to her temporary bed and away from him, before he did something unforgivably stupid.
It didn't help he could so easily sense her reactions as well. At first, it had been her eyes, and the fascination in them when she'd first seen him. Then, it had been the shift in her scent before she'd even looked up, a subtle change that had warned him she knew he was standing at the door. Gods, but his reaction to that had been immediate and unnerving. And when she'd almost collapsed and he'd had to hold her up, stunned awareness had flashed through her eyes, unconcealed and clear as day…and for just a moment, he'd wanted to….
He stared down at his hand, flexing his fingers in and out. The contour of her waist, the warmth of the skin, still clung to his palms. The yukata she wore was of the thin, extremely casual summer type, and, while it did a decent job of visually blurring her figure, it offered little more in the way of a physical buffer than his shirt did. He clenched his fist over the phantom feeling. So what was the big deal, anyway? It wasn't as if he hadn't already seen everything she had to offer.
Then he blinked. Not that she was offering.
Shit.
He scowled and shook his head, his gaze turning inward. It had to be her looks. The effect of such a familiar face, one he had struggled to erase from his memory for five solid years, emerging to haunt him. He fought a growl. Just a nightmare from the past, stirring up all the old feelings he thought he'd conquered—both the bad…and the not-so-bad.
He grimaced. Or it could just be time—damn, but it had been a long time.
Either way, he had to find a way to deal with it. She was staying after all, at least until she got her memory back…if she had indeed lost it.
It had only been a day since she woke. Maybe, once she'd been around for a while, once he got used to her, everything would settle down again, and it would all go away. He could get back to his normal routine—without having to worry about her, or her effect on him.
The door scraped as it slid open, and his gaze darted up to brush against hers. For several moments, neither moved.
With effort, he managed to drag away, to direct his glance back down the empty hallway. Or maybe I can just avoid her until she leaves. "You done?"
She hesitated, then, "Yes."
He looked back at her (he couldn't help himself, damn it) and this time he really looked at her. Shit. Exhaustion had sunk over her again, like some sort of damn cloud that followed her around. Her skin had washed-out, faded, and the dark circles under her eyes had darkened. His teeth came together with a hard clack. If she fainted, he'd have to carry her back.
With another grumble, he reached out and took hold of her arm, urging her—gently—down the hallway. "Come on. You look like you're about to fall over."
She followed meekly, and he kept a concerned eye on her as they walked. He kept his pace slow, because he didn't feel like dragging her all the way back to her room. "You know the way now—remember it, and next time you can go by yourself."
She just nodded tiredly. Damn, but he suddenly wished they hadn't moved her to the back. The Sachi was actually much bigger than it looked, and several hallways and a few rooms separated the mostly empty storage room at the back from the closest bathroom.
Her thoughts must have been running along the same lines. "How big is this place? Inns are usually pretty big, right?"
He glanced at her again, then shrugged. "There's three different wings and about thirty rooms, including the common rooms and the kitchen. I don't know anything about compared to other inns, but the Sachi's bigger than you think, and it can get confusing to find what you want if you don't know where you're going, so you better pay attention."
Her head gave another weary bob. "Okay."
They almost ran into Miroku as they made their way through the second of the common living rooms. He was on his way back to the back room, a fresh pitcher of water in hand. He fell into step beside them. "How do you like our little inn, Kagome?"
She blinked, then smiled a little. "Not so little, I think. It seems nice." They exited from the living room, and went under a set of stairs, and turned a corner into another hallway. She wrinkled her nose. "A little confusing, maybe."
Miroku gave a small nod. "Indeed. Sachi is a little different from most inns you'll find. It was built by an American, after all. But I'm sure you'll get used to it. Eventually." His glance slid over her, assessing, before it moved over to InuYasha. "I'll have to give you a full tour after you've recovered more of your strength. We can't have you wandering around without knowing where you're going."
They reached the back room, and the two men allowed her to go in first. InuYasha noted the way Kagome sank gratefully back onto the small futon, pulling the blanket around herself protectively, as Miroku set the pitcher and yet another clay cup on the floor within easy reach.
She glanced at them both, then looked down to stare at her fingers as they twisted the edge of the blanket self-consciously. Several locks of blue-black hair slid over her shoulder to rest against her neck. "I…would very much like a tour, thank you." Her tongue slicked out, drawing InuYasha's attention as she moistened dry lips. "But…"
"We'll have to go into Sounkyo to get you some clothes, too." Miroku stood, looking over her critically, one finger rubbing absently along the side of his head. He glanced over at InuYasha. "The nightgown she was wearing should be a sufficient example, but we better get her measurements for some of the other things."
InuYasha frowned warningly at him. "Kaede can do it later."
Miroku sent him an aggrieved look. "I wasn't suggesting that I do it."
He snorted, but didn't remark as he caught Kagome's surprise. She sat blinking up at them. "But…clothes? I'm not sure…" She paused, then frowned, her eyes seeking his. "Nightgown?"
"It's what you were wearing when InuYasha found you," Miroku explained, still looking thoughtful. "We were hoping you could tell us why it was the only thing you were wearing, but since it appears you don't remember anything…" He shrugged, and his violet eyes focused on her. "And of course we're going to get you some clothes. You can't very well spend the rest of your life in a yukata made primarily for bathing, can you?"
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, no, but…" She turned back to him. Mentally, he scowled, wishing she would stop looking at him as if he had the answers to all her questions. She sighed. "I suppose I need clothes, don't I?" She bowed her head, biting her lip. "You have all been so very kind. I don't know how I'll ever thank you. I promise I'll find a way to repay you, after I've gotten better."
They both stared at her. Miroku glanced over at InuYasha, then folded to sit comfortably on the floor. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Ah, yes. When you get better." He studied her seriously. "I know you're only recently awake, and this may be too early to ask, but I wonder, Miss Kagome…have you given any thought to what you're going to do? Considering that you have no memories of whatever life you've had, do you really have any idea of what you should do, or even what you want to do, once you're able to move around freely?"
For a moment, her expression turned stricken, and InuYasha felt a frown tightening his brows. Then she sighed again, and her gaze returned to her hands as her fingers resumed their anxious twisting. "Well…I'm not entirely sure. I feel like I should try and find out who I am, and what happened to me…but I'm not really sure how to do that." She looked uncertain. "I know I'll need a way to support myself…but I haven't really…"
Miroku nodded sympathetically. "May I offer a suggestion?" He waited for her gray eyes to lift to his, her brows arching slightly. "Perhaps you could give some thought to staying here, as a staff member at the Sachi."
Kagome stilled, and her eyes widened, then glanced probingly over at him. He just glanced away, refusing to meet them. Miroku's eyes missed nothing, but he barely paused before continuing. "You have no place else to go, and—while you may not realize it—you've been with us for the past week, and we've grown rather fond of you. I believe we would all hate to see you out on your own all alone."
Kagome blinked at him, eyes still wide. "A staff member? But…what would I do?"
Miroku relaxed back, his expression still solemn, but InuYasha could detect a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Anything that Kaede has trouble doing. Currently, it's only the four of us here, running the Sachi, and while having such a small staff may keep us busy, it does put undo stress on the elder. Don't mistake me, this would be very hard work." He paused. "But we could definitely use the help, and…" he shrugged, "we've been thinking of hiring on anyway."
InuYasha suppressed a snort at the ease with which the lie fell, unwilling to give Miroku away. Kagome still looked unconvinced. She turned yet another hesitant look on him, almost as if she were testing him. This time, he met her gaze, but he let nothing of his uncertainty show. She glanced back at Miroku. "I'm not sure what my skills are," she warned him. "I'm not to sure how I'd do."
Miroku finally allowed himself a smile. "Let me assure you, I have the utmost of confidence in your abilities, Miss Kagome—whatever they are." He got to his feet, his hands dusting off the casual black pants he wore. "Well, it's just a suggestion, and you have plenty of time to decide. Please don't feel pressured, or that you owe us in any way. We were only doing what any good person would have done. If you decide that you don't want to remain here at the Sachi, we will be more than pleased to find you other accommodations." He strolled over to the door, then turned to look at her. "Just promise me you'll think it over."
It took her a moment, but she finally smiled back at him, a small lift of her lips. "I will. Thank you."
Miroku nodded. "No, thank you. It is our great honor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have some business to take care of." With a speaking glance at InuYasha, he disappeared down the hall.
InuYasha frowned after him, then turned back to Kagome, who was now staring thoughtfully at her hands. "You'll be okay by yourself?"
Surprised, she glanced back up. Her eyes held the weary look of someone who's heard too much at once, and her shoulders slumped with strain. His frown deepened, and he started getting twitchy somewhere deep in his gut, but once again, she smiled at him. "Yes. Thank you. I think I'll just take a little nap. I'll be fine."
He gave her a hard stare, then nodded shortly before stepping out, sliding the door shut behind him. His ears flicked as the rustling of cloth indicated she had lain down.
It took him less than a minute to find Miroku. He was sitting at his station at the reception desk, typing awkwardly on his ultra-portable second love, that godsdamned laptop. His expression was absorbed, and didn't change when InuYasha arrived with a scowl. "You laid that on a little thick, don't you think?"
Miroku didn't even look up. "I guarantee that she'll stay. Isn't that what we decided she should do? Now we can keep an eye on her." He glanced down at a pile of papers near his elbow. "No luck with the missing persons reports, by the way. Not that I expected it. I have absolutely nothing to go on. But as far as I can tell, no one in all of Japan has reported a young woman with black hair, gray eyes, with her approximate height and weight missing in the last week or so." He finally looked up. "Same results when I add in the name Kagome."
His scowl didn't let up with the news. "So what the hell are you doing now?"
"This?" Miroku looked surprised. "I've been researching amnesia. As far as I can tell, her symptoms seem to be consistent with a type known as retrograde amnesia. Victims usually suffer some severe head injury, and lose memories prior to said injury." Violet eyes turned speculative. "It certainly lends to her credibility, doesn't it?"
He allowed his claws to strum lightly across the top of the desk. "Does it say if she'll be able to remember?"
Miroku shrugged. "It says that in most cases, amnesiacs will usually—gradually—regain most, if not all, of their memories. But it also says that some never do. That basically supports what Kaede said." He paused. "She believes her, by the way. So does Shippou, if he counts for anything."
"Keh." His fingers strummed a few more times before he sighed. "We're still back where we started. Nothing we can do now but wait and watch." He turned. Maybe, just maybe, it really was just a coincidence, and life would finally get back to normal…albeit with one incredibly disconcerting addition.
"Where are you going?"
"The upper shelf in the women's bath is broken again." His reply was clipped and to the point. "I'm going to fix it while the guests are out." He paused, jaw clenched tightly, waiting for what he knew was coming.
"InuYasha…don't you think we should—"
"No." He bit out the word.
"But—"
"Just what the hell good would it do?" He didn't bother to turn around. The subject would be brief. "What the hell can he do that you can't?"
"He should know."
"He should also go fuck himself up the ass, but I don't see that happening anytime soon, do you?" The growl was back in his tone—a sure warning sign.
Miroku gave a dry chuckle. "Now there's an image I never wanted in my head." Then he sighed. "Okay. You're the boss."
A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Yeah, well…he made sure of that, didn't he?"
A/N: I've taken a few liberties with the Japanese language here-certain terms such as youkai (demon), arigato (thank you), and gomen, or gomen ne (I'm sorry/forgive me) are and will be used interchangeably with their English counterparts throughout the story.
Yukata: literally means bath robe or bathing cloth; they're a type of extremely casual kimono that are worn to festivals and frequently around bath houses and hot springs
And thanks to those of you who reviewed. This story is a favorite of mine, and while it's currently taking a back seat to other projects, I will be updating whenever I can. Let me know if there's any way I can improve, or if you have any questions. I'll be most happy to answer them…if I can. (evil maniacal laughter sounds in the background) Whoops! Was that me? O.o
Blessings until next time, ~ Quill :P
