Blanket Disclaimer: The writer does not own any characters created by Rumiko Takahashi but like everyone else wishes she did. All original characters or concepts are the author's Inuma Asahi De's (with the exception of historical figures).
Chapter Forty Three
The Wind Enchantress
Hiten walked easily into his cabin, carrying the wind demon in his arms as he entered the much warmer space, having left his best men in charge of navigating the rainstorm outside. Closing the door with just the tip of his boot, he moved to his bed laying the wet woman down on the soft blankets, not caring if they became soaked in the process.
He licked his lips as he studied her for a moment, his nose scenting the air instinctively. "She's of no use to me." He concluded instantly as he smelt the almost disappointing scent of a bitch who was not mated but not a virgin either. He clicked his tongue and rolled his shoulders backwards before crossing his arms over his chest. "What should I do with her?" He asked himself but couldn't come up with an answer immediately.
Absently, he stepped away from her glancing around the room looking for anything that might give him even a clue as to what he should do next. A shirt strewn across the back of his desk chair caused his eyebrow to quirk before he unwaveringly moved the short distance towards it.
A candle caught his attention before he was able to even think of grabbing for the white cotton and he stopped, rubbing his fingers together causing an outlandish spark to flash from his fingertips. A small flame flickered from his thumb and he brought it downwards, close to the wick of the candle. It came to life in a matter of seconds and he nodded thoughtfully before shaking his hand as if he was extinguishing an everyday match.
Without further delay, he grabbed the somewhat dirty but dry shirt from the back of his chair and turned back towards the woman he had previously laid out on his bed. She wasn't moving, she simply laid lifelessly, one hand resting on her stomach and the other dangling off the side of the bed. Her wet black hair was matted to her face just like the strange clothes that covered her whole body, her legs, her arms, her ankles, and a tight collar that went all the way up her whole neck as if choking her. Yes, she was completely covered from head to toe with a wet and sopping strange dress.
"I guess the least I can do is put her in some dry clothes." He grumbled stepping towards her, the shirt held away from his own wet clothes so as not to ruin his intentions.
Approaching her, he narrowed his eyes as he took in those clothes more fully, not bothering to even shift his position as he studied her intently from some five or six feet away. It appeared that her clothes were held together with a large silk belt, which (from his current angle) he couldn't see well enough to determine how to undo. He licked his lips at the sight, his mind racing, not because he had qualms about undressing a woman, the act of doing just that was pretty natural to him, like a second nature really. He tilted his head to the side—no—his mind was racing for a wholly different reason: he wasn't really sure how to go about undressing her.
"What the hell is she wearing?" He asked himself, his voice harsh in his mind and annoyed as he stepped towards her in the semi-dark room, the candle he had lit on his desk flickering dangerously as a wave rocked the ship. He turned and glanced at the candle, making sure it wasn't tilting or shifting hazardously on the pricket that held it. After he was sure that it wasn't tilting or moving in any way that might cause it to tip and catch the ship on fire, he turned back and furrowed his brow.
With a snort he stepped forward, deciding that it was better simply to try to get her undressed and fail, than to just stare at a woman in wet and cold clothes. After all, wet people typically catch cold and he didn't need a sick woman on his ship getting everyone else sick. He reached her with three easy strides and tossed the shirt on the bed as he set down on its edge. His fingers instantly went to work, reaching for the front of the strange robe she wore, but before they could even put a dint in her current clothed appearance, he froze and brought them away.
Making a strange and confused snorting sound, he took in the sight of the clothes even more fully, this time studying them as if he had never seen a dress in his life (or at least, he had never seen this type of dress before in his life). The dress didn't appear to have any clasp or button in the front—in fact it really did seem more robe like than dress like. Grasping her shoulders gently so as not to wake her, he pulled her into an easy sitting position and glanced down her back, his eyes catching the intricate knot. "That looks complicated." He grumbled before shaking his head, giving up.
With some care, he laid her back down as smoothly as possible, hoping she wouldn't wake up during the careful procedure he was about to perform. The last thing he needed was some woman waking up while he tore her clothes to shreds. Brandishing one claw, he swiftly went to work cutting into the fine silk of that strange belt without a thought or worry about the damage he had just performed to priceless fabric. As if relieved, the fabric pulled away from her and suddenly her small chest seemed to grow tenfold, her breast swelling causing his eyes to openly stare as he took in the sight of heaving white flesh peeking out from the cloth.
Smirking, he pushed the fabric down, pulling it from her shoulders as it slit opened delightfully down her body only to reveal a strangely crafted bandage around those succulent breast. "Is she hurt?" He wondered out loud as he pushed the strange dress aside more to take in the bandages. They weren't dirty, there was no blood, they just appeared to be bandages. "Okay." He accepted but not without a multitude of strange looks crossing his face.
Shaking his head, pulling himself away from his thoughts on the bazaar brassiere, he pushed the robe opened further his eyes taking in the sight of a strange long skirt that hovered just barely on her hips, tied by a sash on one side. Reaching forward with interest, he touched the material, taking in the soft and only somewhat damp fabric with his full attention.
"This is just weird." He heard himself mumble in the dark as he took in the sight of her strangely clothed body, the wraps around her breast, the cloth about her hips—if he didn't know any better he'd just assume this was her under garments but, then again, they didn't look like any under garments he had ever seen. Shaking himself away from his thoughts he expertly pulled her arms one by one out of the wet robe before slipping it out from under her with well trained hands.
Not caring for the strange dress he dropped it heavily to his side, the sound of it squishing on the floor and then a metal clang like nails on a chalkboard hitting his ears. "Aa—a." He grumbled as his body contorted oddly from the sound. Gritting his teeth, he looked behind him trying to determine what the odd metal clang had been. His eyebrows knitted and he bit his lip at the sight that met him.
On the floor, a metal fan, like ones he had seen in his homeland of Spain set opened slightly, white with a red hint on its scrunched surface. Inquisitive beyond words, he reached out his long arms just barely reaching the fan without him having to get up from his position on the side of the bed. The metal was like ice on his fingertips causing him to bring his fingers away quickly in surprise.
Determined he reached again, not even wincing as he came into contact with the cold object. Safely in his grip, he pulled it back to his face, studying it with trained eyes—he recognized a weapon when he saw one, even if he wasn't aware of its intended purpose just yet. A moan drew him away from the weapon and he turned back to the half naked woman who was laying on his wet bed, her cheeks growing more flushed by the second and her body shivering most likely from cold.
Dropping the fan like weapon onto the bed he grabbed for his shirt once again, grasping it in tight hands before he focused his attention back on her, trying to conclude the best course of action he could devise. It was one thing to undress a woman but he had never really thought to try to dress one before. It had never really been on his personal agenda.
Resolute, he reached for her, deciding it was better to just jump in than to stand back and stare at her as he had moments before when he decided to put her in dry clothes. Once again pulling her into a sitting position he managed to get both arms into the sleeves of the shirt, smirking when he noticed how it seemed to absolutely swallow her as he laid her back down on the mattress. The woman was rather small, he noted, no more than five feet high, and way too skinny to be healthy. With him being six foot even, his shirt wound up being plenty to cover her for her own modesties sake; perhaps even coming across as more of a short dress than a shirt.
Blinking slightly, he studied her exposed ribs, one of his hands reaching to touch her vaguely, brushing over the striking characteristic. "She almost looks malnourished," He thought as he brought his hand away with a shrug. "Maybe she was starved?" He reasoned before letting out a slight tusking noise. "Either way she looks damn good in my shirt." He brushed the thoughts away easily, it wasn't his concern anyway.
Grinning to himself he reached for the buttons, easily doing up each one until she was skillfully covered and no longer in completely soaked clothes. Just as he was about to stand from the bed, fully prepared to pick up her earlier tossed aside garment, the door slammed opened and he felt a cold shutter go down his back.
"I heard you found a girl." Naraku's voice boomed into the room as the much younger man stepped forward, his boots slamming on the ground. "Why wasn't I informed?"
"I sent a man to tell you." Hiten replied evenly, even as his whole body tightened and tensed from the younger demons presence.
"I don't expect some random crewman to tell me such things." Naraku growled out as he took another step into the room. "That's your job, do you understand!"
Hiten closed his eyes as the sound of Naraku's voice dripping with hatred and venom and the promise of death caused him to involuntarily cower as every instinct in his body pleaded with him to run away from the perilous threat. "Aye, ser." He whispered out, hating himself for the sound of weakness and fear that permeated his voice.
"Excellent." Naraku grumbled as he shook some water from his long thick greasy hair while tipping his chin in the girl's direction. "Who is she then?"
Hiten gingerly turned his head back around looking at the girl momentarily, wondering what her fate would be should he say even a word to Naraku about what kind of demon she was. Wind demon's were dangerous and he doubted any man would want to have one on board, especially a woman (which was bad look in and of itself) but—to not say anything—to not open his mouth and risk the wrath of the man before him? "Fuck," He groused internally. "I don't give a shit about protecting her, I traffic women for a living but—no one deserves to die at the hands of this bastard." He sighed audibly. "I wish you luck." He told her as he turned and looked Naraku in the face, his dark eyes intense and focused. "A wind enchantress, demon, something along those lines." He told the younger man formally, his voice tight as he watched the weasel standing in his doorway, only a few steps into the room, his eyes sinister and perceptive.
"A wind demon—," He motioned to the girl, his eyes studying her interesting choice of wardrobe as well as her wet skin. For a moment, his eyes stayed fixated, starring at her—almost infatuated. Slowly, his tongue darted out and he licked his lips, first the top and then the bottom—leisurely, deliberately. "Hm," He muttered before he could seem to move too far into his own head and thoughts. "She currently looks the part of an enchantress in that particular outfit," He trailed off, giving Hiten a pointed look. "Or should I say your whore."
Hiten shrugged absently but didn't rise to the bait, after all, there was no bait to truly be had. He didn't know this girl, he knew nothing of her honor, by her scent she wasn't a virgin and she wasn't mated but that really meant nothing in the demon world unless one was nobility, which he highly doubted she was. After all, he had never met a noble who wore a robe and had no jewels on them. Still, he glanced at her, she was beautiful, very beautiful, any man would be lucky to have her in his bed even if it was just for one night.
Naraku narrowed his eyes when Hiten didn't respond to his rouse and crossed his arms over his chest distinctly. "Where did she come from?" He asked, his voice low and treacherous.
"The west." Hiten offered promptly as he watched his imposed master with skillful eyes. "I really wasn't able to see more than just the direction she was coming from when she approached the ship." He deadpanned, his voice almost diplomatic sounding.
"Did you think to ask her?" Naraku pressed as the door behind him squeaked, the wind from outside catching it, pushing it back and forth, the old hinges groaning from the activity.
"She's been asleep since she crashed into our mast," Hiten replied his voice still calm and surprisingly charged with defiance despite the overwhelming anxiety that formed within him in Naraku's presence. "So I haven't been able to pry it from her yet."
Naraku sniffed absentmindedly and took a step further into the room, grabbing the squeaking door as an afterthought and closing it as he approached Hiten. "The men said," He whispered, his voice precarious. "She was on a feather."
Hiten stood from the side of the bed, attempting to impose his obvious height advantage over the shorter man before him but no matter how much taller he actually was than Naraku he still felt short standing there. "Most wind demons," He started to say as he saw a gleam come into Naraku's eyes, a gleam he knew and knew well. It was the same gleam he had seen when Naraku killed his own father. "Have strange methods of traveling." He spoke truthfully. "I've even seen some on carpets." He offered alluding to the old demon legends of demons who commanded inanimate objects and granted humans wishes as if the demon's themselves were slaves to mankind.
The joke wasn't wholly lost on Naraku but despite it he just barely quirked an eyebrow as he brought a hand up to tap his chin. "Do we," He inquired, turning away from Hiten with a slight chuckle. "Have use for such a demon?" He flicked his wrist backwards towards the girl still laid up on the bed. "And her feather?"
Hiten stood absolutely still next to the bed, not sure how he should answer the question at all. Did they have use for a wind enchantress, perhaps—if she would stay on their side. But—that wasn't the only reason this question was hard to answer. Truthfully, it was who had asked it that made it hard to reconcile. This was Naraku, Naraku Morgan and he was asking Hiten his opinion on someone, asking him if they should live or die. It seemed suspiciously like a trick. "It depends." He settled on saying not able to come up with a better answer.
"On what?" Naraku threw back.
Hiten gulped and pushed himself upwards, attempting to make himself look taller if at all possible. "If we can control the wind."
Naraku's eyebrows raised at the answer and he nodded his head. "Hm?" He hummed out, pushing Hiten to offer more information.
"Wind demons," The pirate Captain began easily. "Are known for being hard to control, they appreciate freedom and hate to be locked away," He waved his hand downwards at the woman trying to take Naraku's piercing eyes off himself and onto her. "Both mentally and physically."
"Doesn't anyone." Naraku commented dryly as he took another step towards the bed looking at her as if actually seeing her for the first time his brows drown tight with interest.
Hiten licked his lips glad to have the devil's eyes off of himself and stepped even further away before replying. "Wind demons especially."
Naraku pursed his lips and stared at the young woman, his eyes taking in the shirt she was wearing with knowledgeable concentration. "You dressed her." It was a statement not a fact.
"Her robe thing was wet," Hiten indicated the robe that was still laying in a heap on the floor. "She'd catch her death and pass it to the crew if I left her in it." He nodded firmly as if trying to convince himself as well as Naraku. "Safer to keep her warm and healthy than to make her a leaper."
Naraku frowned deeply and shrugged, leaning away from the woman to eye Hiten, his expression completely neutral. "We could just toss her."
A wave a confusion came across Hiten's face as he tried to figure out what exactly Naraku was suggesting. "Toss her?"
"You know." Naraku took a step towards the wet pile of clothes on the floor, his eyes glancing over the white and purple fabric. "Throw her into the sea, sink her to be with Davey Jones—," He bent down reaching to pick up the strange wide belt that Hiten had cut in-order to get the wet clothes off of the mysterious woman. "I find that much easier than going through so much trouble to keep her healthy."
Hiten didn't say anything, just merely shrugged. It really didn't matter to him, women were bad luck anyway when one was at sea but something in him told him that he didn't want to hurt this woman. Not because she was a beautiful woman and he had already developed a soft spot for her in his heart but because there was something dodgy about her. He could feel it. Years of experience told him that a powerful demon stood behind her, just in the shadows, lurking and waiting—watching and plotting.
He licked his lips slowly, the feeling of being watched so intense that he found himself glancing around, looking for the eyes upon him. He saw none. Naraku was busy looking at the fabric of the robe and the woman was fast asleep (passed out really) and there were no other people in the room. There were no eyes and yet every sense in his body even ones unknown, sixth and seventh ones, eighth and ninth ones—they all told him he was being watched. He took a deep breath ignoring the feeling that was starting to burrow inside his heart and looked back at Naraku who was busy studying the white robe.
Hiten watched as Naraku turned the material over in his hand, a slight sparkle catching Hiten's eye as it feel to the ground.
"What strange clothes." Naraku told Hiten as he ran his fingers over them, touching the fabric almost daintily unaware of the older man's current dropped jaw. "Expensive form the look. Too bad you tore the belt in your haste to undress her."
"Yes," Hiten agreed although he wasn't really listening, his eyes instead were staring at the floor at Naraku's feet where the shimmer had landed with hardly even a sound. There on the ground, small and unobtrusive, nestled in a crack in the wood was a gem—small shimmering clear as crystal. "Master." He mumbled his mind not even registering the words he had said as he found himself pointing at the small jagged object, his eyes recognizing it without even trying.
"What?" Naraku lowered the fabric away from his gaze and rolled his eyes as he took in Hiten's pointing hand. "What nonsense—," He started to grumble but stopped when he took in the sight of what Hiten had been pointing at. "Wake her." He said instantly, his voice harsh and commanding. "Wake her now."
-break-
Inuyasha sighed heavily as he stood before the staircase leading up to the helm's deck. He had been standing there for fifteen minutes or so, leaning against the back of the railing, off to the side in the shadows where Myoga and Totosai would not be able to see him easily. A light drizzle was still falling, spit, as he had told Miroku—it drenched him still, his heavy leather boots, his dark baggy pants, his white shirt—it drenched all of him making the soft cotton material of both pants and shirt cling to his body. He shook his head, water dripping from the tips of his hair that was mattered to his face just like his clothes.
Bringing one hand up to his forehead, he brushed some of the waterlogged strands away before absently scratching at his skin with carefully controlled claws. "Damn rain." He muttered to himself as quietly as possible, not wanting his two oldest companions to hear him. One of his ears absently flicked as a rain drop taunted the sensitive appendage. "Euw—a," He stuttered incoherently as his whole body shivered from the sensation.
He grumbled to himself as the feeling passed and shook his head trying to get some of the excess water off before quickly realizing it was pointless. Taking in a deep breath, he crossed his arms over his chest and sank down to the ground, the sidewall of the staircase supporting him as he sat on the wet wood of the deck. Thoughts drifted in and out of his mind—thoughts of the Shikon no Tama and the mission they had accepted, thoughts of Kaede and her safety in the old tavern, thoughts of Miroku and the words the boy had spoken to him, thoughts of Sango and what she might think of him should she ever learn the truth of his time on land, thoughts of Kagome and thoughts of her death.
He groaned and leaned his head backwards, ignoring the feel of droplets hitting his face as he did so. Slowly, he closed his eyes; tried to make his body relax as a cool wind swept over the ship causing his soaked skin to shiver involuntarily as another droplet hit his face, this one just below his eye. He felt it as it seemed to pause before trickling down his cheek leisurely, ending up at his chin where it collected for just a moment before dripping down.
As if in a trance, he reached up, his hand touching his face, tracing the path the raindrop had wandered. Thoughtfully, he brought his hand away, his golden eyes looking, taking in the sight with painful interest.
"She's—,"
He could hear the sound of Jinenji's voice, the sound of him hiccupping, blubbering, and in pain.
"She's dead!"
His hands dropped to his lap, his knees turning up allowing his hands to lay limply against them as he pushed the memory aside. It had been a horrible moment in his life, a horrible god awful moment and he—he had relived it every day since it had happened. There was not a single moment since they had returned that was void of thoughts about it, it was always there in the back of his mind, shoving at his psyche taunting him, mocking him, toying with him. She had died and it, well, "It wasn't my fault."
Inuyasha automatically gulped as the thought saturated his brain, it was hard to think it, extremely and exceedingly hard but, he knew deep down, it was true. Miroku was right, there was nothing he could have done, in fact he was the whole reason she had actually lived in the first place. Without Inuyasha, without him, Kagome would have most likely died. Still, he felt horrible for having put her in that situation. If only he would have been thinking, if only he would have paid just a little more attention—if only—if only—
He sighed long and low so as not to be heard. "Hindsight's a bitch." Carelessly, he reached up and flicked a piece of watery hair away from his eyes as he chewed on his lip. "And there's nothing I can do about it, that's why its hindsight—I can't change the past but I can—I can learn from it." He nodded to himself, the thought was comforting.
Yes, what had happened had in fact happened but it was okay, it was under control, he had saved her, she had lived and he would learn from the experience. "I'll have to more careful." He told himself bluntly. "More—conscientious—about—everything." He licked his lips, tasting the rain water vaguely. "I'll protect her, with my fist, my feet, my knives, my guns, I'll protect her with everything I have, everything I am," He looked up at the clouds, noting that the rain was starting to subside, it was even less than a drizzle now. "I will protect you Kagome Dresmont with my very life."
The sound of a door opening and then a soft womanly voice drew him away from his musings. Ducking down, trying to keep completely out of sight, he allowed his ears to twitch on his head, moving, taking in all sounds and actions expertly.
"So everything's okay?" Sango's voice came to his ears easily, the sound of her footsteps coming to a stop in the hall just around the corner from him equally loud to the sensitive lobes.
"Yeah," Miroku replied to her but his voice sounded tense. "I talked with him—," He continued as his pants legs rustled as if he was fidgeting from foot to foot. "Found out what happened."
"Oh?" Sango started walking again, she was barefoot, he could hear it in the way her feet fell to the ground, almost silently. "So what happened?"
"Well—," Miroku's feet started to follow her, they were going away from Inuyasha's hiding place, towards his cabin, by the sound of it. "That's a strange story—I don't understand it all yet."
Sango's quiet feet became even quieter as she completely stopped moving. "What's there to understand?"
Miroku didn't respond right away, more fabric rustled, this time it sounded more like it was coming from his shirt, perhaps he was moving his hands. "Well, here's the teaser for you, Kagome—," He cleared his throat and started walking again, judging by the sound he was almost at their door and was hurrying towards it at that. "Well—she died."
Inuyasha heard nothing, no movement, no fabric, no words, not even breathing. All he could make out was the sound of raindrops that were hitting the deck every once in a while, intermittent and almost gone.
"What?" Her voice was faint, as if she herself were about to faint. "But—she's in there—," The sound of fabric, she was probably pointing. "I've been with her for hours now, keeping an eye on her as she slept, she's fine!"
"I know, I know, I know." Miroku said quickly, hastily, his feet once again moving, the sound coming slightly closer to the Captain but still verily far away before it stopped completely as he reached Sango. "She's fine, the Captain saved her."
"He—but she was." Sango whispered, her voice tight and confused. "Did he bring her back from the dead? You know that's not possible, you can't bring people back from the dead, you can't!"
He heard Miroku groan before he spoke, sounding not agitated but diffidently anxious. "This isn't a conversation we should have out here, Sango." He spoke quietly, his voice tight. "Let's go into our cabin." He started to walk away, his boots were leaving back in the direction of the room but—the noise suddenly stopped.
"Did he?" Sango whispered.
Inuyasha heard the pull of fabric, as if someone was pulling themselves free of someone else's grip. "Sango, please."
"Alright." Her voice came out as a whine, an anxious, scared whimper and then her feet hit the floor once again, a door handle turned and a hinge squeaked. "Hurry up."
Inuyasha heard Miroku's long sigh and then the sound of a door closing and clicking into place softly, cutting the conversation off from the half demon. It wasn't a great loss, however, in fact it put Inuyasha slightly at ease. Miroku would tell Sango everything—well everything that he could tell his wife—and then Inuyasha would only have to deal with any ramifications from the conversation, which (knowing how smooth Miroku was in conversations such as this) would probably not be that much.
He nodded to himself, finding comfort in the idea of it all and leaned back once again trying to get comfortable in his strange hideout (if it could even be called a hideout.) Suddenly, a rather strong gust of wind hit the deck, the force of it piercing Inuyasha down to the bone. With a hiss he brought his hands around his body, hoping to put some warmth back into his extremities but the action was useless. He was soaked to the bone, the only way he would be able to get warm at this point was to change into dry clothes and put on a jacket.
Inuyasha snorted, "No way that's gon'na happen." He told himself firmly as he glanced sideways towards the entrance to the hallway. "My jackets' still in Miroku's cabin and there's no way in hell I'm going in there to get it right now." He nodded firmly. "Jumping in the middle of that conversation would be like committing suicide." He licked his lips once again, his eyes staring at the archway to the back hall, imagining the door to his cabin, which was just a few feet out of sight.
"I could—no." He concluded without another word. Sure, he had another jacket in his room he could use and some dry clothes to change into but—, "I just can't go in there." He reasoned silently, his mind trying to wrap around the possibility of being near Kagome even if she was asleep.
Another gust of wind caught him off guard and he hissed as his whole body shuddered at once, the chill going all the way to his core. He brought his hands up around himself tighter, his teeth actually chattering as the breeze blew harder and harder. He growled, glaring at the invisible force before practically snarling at it.
"Fine," He leered out still glaring as he stood, hiding his arms in his sleeves as goose bumps formed on them. "I get it, I'll go." He muttered as he sniffled slightly, his nose starting to run from the cold air. "Fucking wind, your mocking me, aren't you? You're plotting." It didn't answer, not that he expected it to, but he still glared harder none the less, hoping it would get the message should it actually be self aware.
Turning towards the door to the corridor, he hastily stepped out of the rain and the wind, his body already feeling slightly warmer as he pushed himself into the warmer and dryer space. For a moment, he contemplated just setting up camp there but the thought swiftly came to an end when he felt his skin prickle under the influence of the cold rain water.
"I'll just go in and change real quick," He licked his lips slightly, shifting this way and that. "She's probably asleep, right? Sango said something about her being asleep." He rubbed his frosty hands together, his fingers actually tingling with cold. "I'll just go in, grab some clothes and my spare jacket and then come back out here." He bit his lip at the makeshift plan, it sounded good, like it would work. Blowing out a long breath, he reached for the handle of the door and pushed down on it as quietly as possible but froze before he could actually push the door inwards.
He took a deep breath, not really knowing why he was so apprehensive. He had seen her plenty of times since they had returned from Jinenji and his mother's home but he hadn't really talked to her. No, he hadn't really said much of anything to her. He had avoided her, hidden from her, put his nose into his work and not said more than a few words here and there to her. He hadn't been able to do anymore than that in the past week, he hadn't felt like he was worthy of it, like he deserved to talk to her and on top of that—he was afraid, afraid of what she knew and what her knowledge might lead her to ask. Did she remember death? Did she blame him—probably not—at least, he figured so much but a small part of him worried, really worried, even after all of Miroku's words, he still worried.
The wind blew at his back, and he frowned, the chill going all the way to his toes and back as he stood there with the handle in his hands. "Damn it," He mumbled under his breath. "It shouldn't be this cold, it's not even September." He sighed and lowered his head knowing that wouldn't make a difference. He tightened his grip on the doorknob with every intention of pushing it forward and opening it but found himself once again lacking nerve. Gritting his teeth, he snorted and ignored the gnawing bite in his stomach instead choosing to push the door forward.
It creaked, he froze a flashback to his dream pushing at the back of his mind for only a second, causing his heart to stop cold in his chest. He could see those lips, ashen and white, pale, cold, dead. His hand went slake on the handle, he blinked lost before inhaling sharply. "No." He told himself as he forced the memories away, brushing them aside as he hastily and silently moved into the room only to freeze for a second time at the sight that met his eyes.
She wasn't asleep, Sango had been wrong about that or he had heard her incorrectly but whatever had happened, it was true, Kagome wasn't asleep. She was standing by the window, her body cast in moonlight that he wasn't even aware was out. The moon must have come out while he was in the corridor, which meant the rain had most likely stopped by now too or at least the clouds were starting to part.
It seemed like such a short amount of time for rain to stop and moonlight to take over but apparently it had and there she was bathed in pale moonlight, her short hair brushing at her chin and the nape of her neck, the little strands dark but shinning as the reflected light hit her—eerily so. Vaguely, his mind registered the fact that her hair was getting longer, soon it would probably reach her shoulders, perhaps in only another few months by the rate it was growing.
She made a sound that was suspiciously like the meow of a cat and turned before he could even hope to disappear out of the door again. One of her grey eyes shone as the moonlight briefly hit it, while the other disappeared in semi darkness because unlike it's mate it was not close enough to the window to be affected by the reflecting moon. "Inu—." Her voice died in the air just as the moonlight disappeared completely from the room, vanishing as if it had never existed but had only been in his imagination.
With his superior eyes, he watched as she turned startled back to the window, looking out her expression surprised. Her lips parted. Those grey orbs studied the pane of the window, searching for the light she had been watching only moments before. Her brow furrowed as the sight she was currently witnessing took her by surprise.
"It's raining again." She whispered, whether to herself or to him he wasn't certain. "I guess—," Her voice sounded disappointed. "The moon only made it out for a second."
He didn't say anything, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He wanted to leave, turn around, disappear but something stopped him, something made him step into the room a little farther, something made him grab the door, close it and then step a little closer to her until he was only a few precious feet away from the place she stood, now bathed in nothing but darkness. He heard the trickle of rain as it hit the windowpane and then the strange sound of dripping, beads of water falling from his clinging clothes. He glanced down at the floor, watching as a small puddle of water formed underneath him, he was wetter than he had realized.
She shifted suddenly from where she was standing, her arms coming up to wrap around her body, her eyes still starring outwards into the blackened world. "It was this black." She suddenly whispered into the dark. "On that night," Her voice trailed off as her arms dropped to her sides. "Only just a week ago."
Inuyasha gulped, that was the last thing he ever expected her to say after so many days of not talking with her at all, of ignoring her, of pushing her away.
"That's right—that's the reason right?" She spoke but he wasn't sure what she was talking about as she turned and looked at him, her eyes obscured in the darkness but her posture easily seen. She was hunched forward, her fingers clasped before her, worrying together as she looked down watching them as they moved apprehensively.
"The reason," He found himself repeating as he looked away from her, unable to see her like this. "For what?"
She didn't speak at first but instead simply stared at him as if she couldn't believe what he had just said. After a moment, she moved, and turned away looking out across the Atlantic or perhaps towards the Florida mainland, he honestly wasn't sure what they were facing away from at the moment. "The reason why," She spoke, her voice hushed a whisper in the night. "You haven't spoken to me since we came back."
It was his turn then to not say anything. He felt his heart turn in his chest, not ripping or tearing but defiantly twinging. He licked his lips nervously, "That's not the reason." He thought but couldn't form the idea into words. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his head, rubbing his temples. He didn't want to tell her the real reason. He didn't want to tell her of his nightmares, of his doubts, and faults. It was one thing for Miroku to find out but it was another for her—entirely another.
"I'm a better man than that."
He heard his own voice loud in his head. He didn't want her to know those faults, his bad decisions, his failures because if she knew then maybe she would doubt as he doubted. If he was such a good man, the better man to be around her, then why couldn't he even protect her? That's what she would think and he—he couldn't bare it if she ever thought those very things.
Taking his silence for a yes, Kagome turned away and looked out the window once again, her eyes watching as the rain began to fall once more in the mostly dark night. "I'm sorry." She told him, her words faint, so soft that he almost wondered if they had been in fact spoken.
Gulping hard, swallowing the tension in his Adam's Apple, he took a step forward, the sound of his boots sloshing with water distracting but not enough of a distraction to make him forgot her potential words. "You're sorry?" He waited for some sort of confirmation but got nothing, so he decided to press on. "What do you have—," He took a deep breath. "To be sorry for?"
"I—," Her voice trembled for a second and she lowered her eyes. Her fingers reached out and touched the sill of the window, absently noting that there were no grooves there like there had been in her own window and Kikyo's window.
"I guess he doesn't stare off all longingly." She mused but no smile came to her face from the thought as she fingered the smooth wood. "Men just don't long, they don't have to—they can be whatever they want." She reasoned grimly, her internal dialogue sad sounding as she looked out the window once again, her eyes taking in the somewhat calm sea with slight curiosity. She had been worried when Sango informed her of the possibility of a dangerous storm but now as she watched the rain and the slight waves, she wondered why she had even bothered to fear. "I saw worst storms living on Port Royal." She shook her head, pulling her thoughts back to the current situation and the man awaiting a response to her right.
"I'm sorry," She apologized for her long silence, dropping her hands back to her sides again. "I was just—I was lost in thought and I—no, it's not important," She shook her head, her own thoughts jumbled in her mind. "Inu-ya—um—sha," The name came out just as jumbled as her words. "I—I want you to know that I won't tell a soul your secret and that I understand why you would want it to be a secret—," She nodded hastily but still didn't look at him as she spoke. "I just—I wanted to tell you but I haven't been able to because we haven't been talking and I just had to talk to you and—I'm sorry." She brought her hands to her face feeling utterly foolish; that hadn't been what she wanted to say at all.
She had wanted to apologize, to tell him she was sorry if she had made him uncomfortable since she was now in fact aware of his greatest secret. She wanted to make him promises, she wanted to tell him that she was the most trust worthy secret keeper in the world and that he shouldn't be worried about telling her things because whatever he had to say would be kept in complete confidentiality. But—that hadn't come out at all, instead, a jumble of words that didn't make sense had emerged and she was sure he was losing confidence in her completely with each passing phrase and syllable.
"Kagome," He spoke gently snapping her away from her thoughts, his voice sounding apologetic to her ears. "You wanted to talk to me? So, talk, even if its chaotic I'll—I'll try to make sense of it."
She turned and finally looked at him fully, her human eyes barely able to see him in the darkened room. To her left Shippo snored loudly and tossed in his sleep mumbling incoherently about one thing or another. She jumped from the oral intrusion and uneasily tucked some hair behind her ear that was just becoming long enough to be a burden on her face. "Iaaa—I just wanted to tell you that I'll—I won't tell a soul," Her voice was firm, no longer confused as she spoke, his words having given her so much needed confidence. "And you can trust me and I understand."
"You understand?" He found himself repeating the phrase, recognizing much of what she was saying from her earlier jumble of words.
"I do," She told him firmly as she fidgeted. "I—I mean I'm not half a species or anything," She giggled slightly but the sound came out more edgy than anything. "But I am—I mean I understand what it's like to be half something."
"Kagome," He frowned trying to comprehend her words. "How could you understand that?" He told her bluntly as he stepped away from her, moving towards his desk without thought, the water in his boots making an unpleasant noise that Kagome had to force herself to ignore as she pleaded her case.
"But I do, Inuyasha," She told him as she stepped away from the window, her naked feet not making a single noise as they brushed the old wood. "I—I come from two worlds too, my father is English and my mother is French, I'm half and half like you are."
Inuyasha frowned at her words, turning to look at her as a realization clicked in his head. "That's why she can speak French—her mother's French." It was a bit of information he was particularly glad to know but at the same time it was no match for his situation, no, it was an entirely different level of the same basic topic—he knew that better than anyone. "I'm half human and half demon, that's very different than being half of one nationality and half of another. I know—," He paused for a second as he let his own words sink in to his own mind. He really did know—he knew first hand. "Being half of a nationality is nothing like being half of a species. You have no idea." He told her frankly as he leaned against his desk chair shaking his head at her. "I mean you saw what Jinenji lived with, that's what I lived with," He pointed at himself. "Every day is like that, every person who knows uses it against you—sizes you up by the information—hates you because of it."
Kagome bit her lip, somehow she had known he would responded exactly like this to her own confession. She couldn't blame him either. What she had witnessed with Jinenji was the first time she had ever really seen someone react to a half demon and—truthfully—it wasn't an experience she would ever in a million years want to experience again. If Inuyasha's life had been even half as bad as Jinenji's it would make her own life look like a walk in the park, at least the life she had lived at Port Royal but her unknown life, the life she had lived on the foreign shores of her motherland of England, the life the Captain had no idea had ever existed was by far different.
Her lips parted as she began to speak, her voice soft and calm. "I moved to Jamaica when I was very small," She told him, her words timid. "But before then I lived in England." She fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt as she spoke, winding a loose hemline around her finger. "We moved to Jamaica not because my father received a good job or was awarded for services to the crown," She brought her hand up towards her face, studying the piece of string wound round her finger. "But because—we had to, we were forced to leave." She unwound the string and held it close to the fabric before pulling it taunt, tearing it away from its white cotton home. "My father married a French noble woman whose father was a known general, a high ranking general, during the Seven Years War."
Inuyasha blinked rapidly as the information sunk in. "Your grandfather was a French solider?" He whispered into the thick air that seemed to be filling the cabin.
"General," She corrected carelessly. "And—let's just say the British aren't too fond of that," She dropped her hands down, the string discarded to the ground, so tiny it would never be seen again. "So they—well, when they found out who my father had married and that he had a child—me by that woman—they forced my father to leave his post in Britain for a—," She cleared her throat. "Better position in Jamaica."
"Better for them or him?" Inuyasha found himself sneering slightly. He had heard many stories of the British doing similar things to British officials who married outside of British particulars. Marry a Catholic and be ostracized for life, marry a French woman and be forced to live in the Caribbean. It was very much the way of the world during the Seven Years War and even now; the British and the French had been at war forever, especially with the colonization both were doing in the New World but for the most part that should have been over around the time of Kagome's birth, at least reason and history dictated that it should be. "What about the Treaty of Paris, I thought it stopped a lot of the—French and English hated and it was—um—," He bit his lip as he tried to remember the date, he remembered reading about it in the paper. "Signed in what like 1763?"
"Didn't mean enough, I guess." Kagome shrugged. "I mean—we left England when I was—four. They threatened our family and we left in 1769." She intertwined her fingers together and rocked back and forth. "You think that would have been enough time but England and France have never been too close of friends."
"Yeah," Inuyasha agreed. "I've been around a while and I've never seen them too close or affectionate, I guess." He looked down at the ground, trying to imagine a four year old moving half way across the world because her father had loved her mother against the wishes of their people. It was strikingly similar to his own childhood in ways that he couldn't even comprehend at the moment—so similar in fact that he almost couldn't believe that it was possible.
"But in a way—," Kagome continued, pushing the conversation forward. "I'm glad for it because—leaving," She glanced at the room, her human eyes well adjusted to the lack of light by now. "The way that shaped my life, was good."
"How'd it shape your life?" He wondered out loud before he could stop himself.
She flushed, he saw it even in the pale night. "I mean, if I was living in England or France now—," She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Where would I be?
He felt his cheeks heat up as she looked at him, her hair covering her face slightly, her eyes seeming to plea, to pull him in, begging him to understand whatever silent thing she was thinking. "Far away from the sea," He managed to get the words out. "I suppose." He added but only for appearances.
She smiled, the expression just barely reaching her eyes before the smile faded. He could hear her heart race in her chest, he could see her pulse on the side of her neck flutter. "Away from the sea." She whispered in the dark stepping closer to him with no fear entering her scent at all, only apprehension, anxiety, and nervousness. "Away from y—," The words died in her throat and she turned away so quickly that Inuyasha nearly jumped as the sound of a baby fox whining met their ears. "Shippo." She whispered as the whine subsided and the boy shifted in his bed mumbling something about apples under his breath.
Inuyasha let out a shaky breath and stepped away from her, his mind racing with her nearly spoken words. "She—she wants to be here—she wouldn't want to be away from—," He cut the thought off, not wanting to let it push through his carefully created self defenses. "The sea." He made himself think instead, forcing the thought to echo in his head. But echo as it did, it didn't change the warm feeling of acceptance that lodged in his heart. "She knows and she still—she still wants to be here." The thought hit his mind before he could deny it causing him to bring his hands to his face, covering his eyes. He needed to get out of here, he needed to leave, his thoughts, his feelings, her subtle scent in his nose were all bringing something delicious within him to a head.
He felt something stir deep in the pit of his stomach, something that was distinctly happy—thrilled even by the mere thought of her accepting him—a half demon, so easily. He gulped a lump forming in his throat, he had to get out of here.
"You should get to bed." He whispered but didn't move right away, that sensation in his stomach stopping any further motion. Hoping that she would look at him, waiting desperately for her to turn back around and see him again, look at him again with those soft sweet accepting eyes.
Slowly, she did just that, her face bright red, her eyes large and wide as she stared at him as if just now realizing what she could have said in that dark night without even realizing it. "A—Okay." The words slipped from her tongue, vague and unplanned before her mouth opened again this time sounding stronger. "Will you—talk to me tomorrow?"
He winced at the sound of her voice but nodded none the less. "Yeah," He told her truthfully, the words easy to say but hard to pronounce. "Maybe if you get enough rest we can even have a violin lesson." He added before he could stop and think about the ramifications of being alone with her once again, while this feeling built within him.
She smiled, this time the expression reaching her beautiful bright eyes; his heart skipped a beat. "I'd like that."
"Good—," He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat felt like it had grown. "Good."
"Are you going to bed?" She whispered, sounding so sincere and concerned that his heart fluttered slightly. "It's still night time."
He clicked his tongue, wanting the feeling in his stomach to go away, wanting the feelings swirling in his head to disappear, wanting the pounding in his heart to die down before he fell over dead. "I got'ta get out of here." He told himself, his voice even sounding hasty in his head as he turned away from her preparing to simply walk out the door, to run away from her, from his feelings, from the sensations that were building in his mind. But before he could make a clean break he found his mouth opening and his thoughts escaping in the form of a line of a poem. "What hath night to do with sleep?"
"Night hath better sweets to prove," Kagome replied without missing a beat.
Inuyasha froze, her words echoed in his brain and he wiped his head around, his mouth agape, his own face going red as her words sunk in.
"Right?" Kagome whispered softly as her cheeks flushed even brighter in the dark, the meaning behind the poem unsurprisingly not lost on her. "Night hath better sweets to prove, that's the next line, right?"
"You know—," He mumbled softly as his memories of the poem tickled his mind. "That poem—you know it?"
"Milton." She answered easily, with a soft chuckle that had more to do with the tension that suddenly seemed to fill the room than humor. "'Comus.' It's a—a—well—it's a good poem." She stumbled, her cheeks turning red as she looked away from him down at the ground, her hands fidgeting in front of her as she tried hard not to turn away from him completely out of sheer embarrassment.
"Yeah. It is." Inuyasha licked his dry lips wondering if Kagome knew that poem for what it was. He hadn't meant to reference it, hadn't meant to let the words slip from his lips in case of the off chance she might know where they had come from. But as he stood looking at her watching her blush brightly, Milton's words echoing in his mind: their meaning, the frustration they caused, Kagome's chastity, the sexual energy behind Milton's very words; he found himself glad that he had spoken and that she had responded as she had. "Night does hath better sweets to prove." He repeated the line. "You're right," He said softly and then as if realizing what his sentence might imply continued. "That's the next line, you're right about that."
Her lashes fluttered in the most sexy of ways and she bit her lip before slowly dragging it through her teeth, the action causing the demon in him to stir and awaken even more boldly..
"Mate." It acknowledged hungrily, imploring Inuyasha to step forward, to touch her, to caress the junction of her shoulder and neck, where his name was proudly displayed.
He took a step forward, he couldn't stop himself. The poem's meaning ran through his mind, a young girl, a demon in the night—a spirit, a god of mockery, Comus—that demon god seeking a pure woman's very virtue, her chastity. Comus begging her for her virginity, pleading with her, offering her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.
"What would she look like?" Inuyasha found himself thinking as he took another step towards her, his imagination racing, filling with images of her on a bed, her underneath him, her face flushed and her brow sweaty for a wholly different reason than embarrassment. "In the thralls of pleasure, what would you look like, Kagome?" The thought pushed and pulled within him as his imagination went on overdrive. He saw the imaginary Kagome open her mouth, his name on her sweet red lips as she panted. He felt the swell of her breast pushing against his bare chest as he kissed and sucked her neck. He heard her as she moaned from the pure pleasure he offered her, his hands roaming lower and lower cutting the clothe of her shirt with a satisfying primal tear, exposing hardened nipples and soft mounds, his claws scraping at that sweet virgin flesh as she groaned loudly into the night—his name and only his name on her lips—as if it was the only name she had ever known.
He suddenly felt his body swell with the need to beg her, the need to be that demon, the need to grab her, ravish her, make her aware of how beautiful he thought she was—make her officially, and completely and undeniably his.
Kagome stepped back suddenly, her eyes huge as she took in the sight of him. The moon had come back out and its subtle light was highlighting his previously hidden features: his dilated pupils, his silver damp and unkempt hair, his parted lips that were practically begging, pleading with her as he eyed her like a starved dog eyes meat. She felt her throat close, felt her whole body tense as a sensation swelled between her legs from the sight. She bit her lip, her face becoming uncomfortably hot, that place between her legs becoming impossibly hotter than even her face as he took another step backwards, fear entering here as she watched him—fear of the unknown, fear of the known, fear and shame that she wanted so badly to explore both.
He was so close to her, she could feel his body heat, feel something absolutely unreasonable radiating off of him. She could smell the musty quality of his natural woody scent, smell the salt of the sea that was permanently etched into his skin, his hair, and his clothes. One of his hands reached out and stopped just before it touched her face, he was just an arm length away, his gold eyes were just an arm length away, starring at her, pulling at her, asking for permission, for something she was too scared to even begin to guess about.
"I feel hot." She barely acknowledged her own thought. "And dizzy—really dizzy."
He looked downright feral, mysterious, dangerous, and so tempting. And that scared the life out of her, she breathed deeply, slight pants as her stomach got tied in knots and she took an involuntary step away unable to be that close to him—unable to take that burning sensation his body caused her any longer. "I much prefer Paradise Lost to Comus," She stuttered out unable to think of anything else to say. "—however I've read both—that's how I know which one—I—um—like, you know, better."
He stopped her words bringing him out of some kind of daze; her stuttered words, her pounding heart, her heaving breast, all of it—the nervousness, the apprehension in her scent, the plain as day desire mixed with indisputable fear—all of it, gave him some much needed sense of control. He gulped, he closed his eyes, he pushed the beast within him back down—it wasn't right—she wasn't ready, he couldn't do that to that chaste girl before him. Just like the demon, the god, Comus in the poem, that spirit, that fairy, that little sprit, he backed away and let her be saved.
"I find Paradise Lost," He forced himself to speak as he pushed down all traces of desire, suddenly feeling glad that his body was so cold. "A little too preachy for my taste."
"Well," She whispered out fretfully as she took another step away, her skin feeling as if it was on fire. "It is about hell and damnation."
"Like most 16th century literature." He joked but his voice sounded hollow, cheap.
She managed to smile from his joke but she still looked irrationally tense.
He brought a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension that was forming at the junction of his right shoulder and the right side of his collar bone. "Kagome—."
"Yes." Her voice was quick, hasty, her eyes somewhat panicked, scared yet open and accepting and willing in a strange confused way.
He wanted to talk to her about it, he wanted to tell her that—that he was a better man and he wouldn't do something she didn't want him to but in that moment, he honestly felt that those words would be lies. He wanted her, badly, and for the first time in his life he knew it was wrong. It was wrong to do that to her, to push her, to confuse, to break a boundary she was not yet willing to break.
He sighed deeply, frustrated and angry with himself. "I don't deserve to break that boundary, anyway." He thought and subsequently squashed all tingling that had taken over his body.
"Inuyasha?" She whispered breaking up his thoughts, her voice so small in the dark.
He glanced at her, at her confused face, flushed and hot with desire. It was a image he would never forget, that unkempt look of pure unadulterated desire. He pushed away as quickly as he could, turning to another thought that felt so much safer. "When," He furrowed his brows and his mouth actually dropped opened slightly as it hit him full force, "She's read Milton." The thought echoed in his mind as he shook his head in disbelief. She really was something more than just a pretty face and an odd ball tomboy. "When—when did you read Milton?"
Kagome was quiet for a moment, collecting herself silently, thinking long and hard about her response. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she looked him in the eye, those grey orbs sparkling despite the lack of light. "When did you?" Came her sweet reply, her voice airy and playful despite the anxiousness and apprehension that still lined her scent.
He chuckled and looked down at the wooden floorboards, his heart a little let down but his mind amazed at her strong witty spirit. "Touché Mademoiselle," He mumbled in French, his accent spot in. "Touché."
She grinned, her smile playful, innocent the exact opposite of Milton but the perfect example of the Lady of his poem.
Inuyasha grinned up at her, his eyes soft and gentle instead of steamy and lustful. "Go to sleep," He told her firmly motioning towards the bed and Shippo who was still rolling and snoring in his sleep. "I'm—not too tired yet."
"Are you sure?" She pushed just slightly, her gaze going to his still wet appearance. "You might catch a cold."
"Go to sleep, I'm fine." He nodded firmly before turning around and heading to the door again. His fingers paused as they touched the handle, his head leaned forward and he took a deep breath through his nose, the scent of her filling him completely, calming him. "My room, it smells like her now—every part of it—doesn't it?" His mind whispered vaguely, the thought floating in his head like a dream. Slowly, he turned and glanced at her, happiness filling him as he took in the sight of her standing next to her bed—in their room. "Fais des beaux rêves, petite Miss."
Her face instantly seemed to catch on fire, the shade of red a whole knew dimension of the color that he had never seen. "A—," Her sweet lips parted. "Um—Bonne nuit." She finally replied, the much more proper form of goodnight still sweet and tender on her young lips.
"Bonne nuit." He mimicked, before yanking the door opened and disappearing into the night without a further thought.
In fact, it wasn't until Inuyasha was standing outside, leaning against the door that he realized he had forgotten his jacket and had never grabbed dry clothes. "Damn it."
End of Chapter
Please Review
Congratulations to InuKag4eva for being reviewer 1100 and to me for reaching 400,000 words!
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the Chapter. There's a little bit of fluff and sizzle at the end, which I really hoped you enjoyed as well. Now we just got to start focusing on what is happening with the introduction of our new character here. I mean—can that be anymore strange?
P.S. Check out the new Inuyasha Awards sight hosted by Black Dahlia whenever you get a chance at bornforeachother. blogspot. com. I've won a few awards there.
Translations provided by Glon Morski:
Fais des beaux rêves, petite Miss: Have sweet dreams, little Miss. (Petite Miss in French is considered an endearing term, not a condescending one.)
Bonus Point:
At one point in this chapter, Hiten mentioned wind demons using magic carpets and granting humans wishes; what mythological (or Disney as it were) creature grants humans wishes? Double points if you know what Disney film has one?
Last Chapter's Bonus Point:
Well, not too many mega-nerds out there (you know the nerds who are so nerdy that even regular nerds steal their lunch money) but the answer my friends is 42. The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything! We just don't know the question yet...read The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy and you'll understand completely; do not watch the movie, I beg you, read the book. Anyway, thank you for the more philosophical answers, I enjoyed reading them immensely.
The other answer of course is Kagura! Congrats to the Winners:
Sammixoxo (Kagura), foxigirl12 (Both), SweetHunniiBunnii (Kagura), HeavenlyEclipse (Kagura), RavenShadow (Both), kittychic0895 (Kagura), AnimeFanatic123 (Kagura), StrikerTheWolf (Both), hedgewitch13 (Kagura), Angel-SkyBluE (Kagura), Finbastard (42), InuKag4eva (Kagura), Hiltothedance (42), Glon Morki (Kagura), Coka Cookie Cola (Kagura), Purple Dragon Ranger (Kagura and I love the Kim Possible reference), TheRealInuyasha (Both), InuEared Miko of Darkness (Kagura)
Also to answer Hiltothedance's question, I'm going to go with The Restaurant at the End of the Universe where Arthur and Ford Perfect extract the 'question' for the answer from Arthur's brain, "What do you get when you multiple 6 by 9?" to which Arthur responds, "I've always said there was something fundamentally wrong with the universe." And here's another question then: How does one learn to fly?
Notes:
Pricket – A spick like candle holder commonly used on ships because the spike secured the candle more firmly, minimizing the risks of the candle tipping and catching the ship on fire.
Seven Years War – A global military war between 1756 and 1763, involving most of the great powers of the time and affecting Europe, North America, Central America, the West African coast, India, and the Philippines. The war was driven by the antagonism between Great Britain (in personal union with Hanover) and the Bourbons (in France and Spain), resulting from overlapping interests in their colonial and trade empires.
Treaty of Paris – Signed on September 3, 1783, it ended the American Revolutionary War between Great Britain and the United States of America and its allies on the other. The other combatant nations, France, Spain and the Dutch Republic had separate agreements but the Treaty of Paris is commonly referred to as a blanket term for all of them.
Comus – Full Title: Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, is a masque in honor of chastity, written by John Milton. It was first presented on Michaelmas, 1634, before John Egerton, 1st Earl of Bridgewater at Ludlow Castle in celebration of the Earl's new post as Lord President of Wales. It is too long to really fully explain but you can read a descent explanation on Wikipedia if you like.
Next Chapter:
N/A
UNEDITTED
POSTED 1/18/2012