Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha nor its characters; I make no profit from the publishing of this story. The ideas, the poem and Hirosuke do belong to me, however.

Compromising
He likes watching her sleep. Deft fingers smooth her hair. She looks fragile, but he can tell she is strong. He feels forward in his actions to her, but he cannot help it – fascination is slowly eating him alive. He wants to take the sadness in her eyes and throw it to the winds; he wants to see her smile – a true smile, not the watered down masks she has been bestowing on him; he wants to know her name, he wants her to utter his; he wants so much that he doesn't know what to do with it, but he doesn't even know what the consuming feeling is.

His hand reaches out and cradles hers protectively as sleep claims him.

The warmth creeping along her face slowly wakes her up. Reluctantly she opens an eye, then another, and attempts to sit up. The man is sleeping not half a meter from her futon; their hands are inter-twined. She blushes, but doesn't understand her reaction. His breaths are even and she can't help just looking at him. He is not bad-looking; jet-black strands of hair fall thickly around a pleasant-shaped face. Pale blue shadows dance beneath closed eyes. She doesn't know why that should cause her to feel such concern. Carefully she extracts her hand from his refusing to acknowledge the sense of loss upon doing so. He startles awake, and she is apologetic. He smiles and offers breakfast; she declines and he refuses to acknowledge it. Frustrated, they glare at each other, then burst laughing at their childishness.

"How about this: we eat some of the broth from last night, then we go fishing and you can make it up to me. Deal?"

She feels this is more acceptable than allowing him to do all the work and nods. She never has been the type to let herself be taken care of.

When they set off she relishes the sunshine on her face. It has been far too long. Nearly a week bed-ridden has made her restless. She follows him to the lake, wishing silently he would move faster.

Fishing, she finds, is not as easy as previously thought. She manages to catch four fish (to his eight). She is frustrated at her lack of skill, and his obvious talent. Mainly the latter. Huffing she reaches down and grabs another. It twists and wheedles itself out of her grasp. A light laugh behind her makes her turn.

"You need to be faster. You don't want to talk to the fish. Grab and throw. You're thinking this through too much."

She pouts and grudgingly tries his advice. She is even more put off when she finds he is right. Of all the things this human had to be!!!! She is a demoness and this is unacceptable! A human fishing better than a cat-demon! Unforgivable. But...she isn't a cat demon, she is a human, and as she hasn't ever tried to fish in this form it makes sense she wouldn't be extremely successful at it. Come to think of it, her human form was rather restrictive: she couldn't fly, couldn't run properly, couldn't breathe fire (not in her usual amounts, anyway). Why had she decided to...? The memories hit her like a waterfall and she tries her best not to shake. Yes, she had a mission! She had to get back on that mission! She had to...had to...

Suddenly she is falling, and just as quickly a pair of rather strong arms catch her.

"Water is cold. If you stay in too long it numbs your legs." He hook a hand under her knees lifting her out of the water; then sets her carefully on the shore before stringing the fish over his shoulder and lifting her up again.

"I'm fine!" She snaps. Her legs wobble when she tries to stand up, much to her horror. When had she become this weak?

"It's okay. It's okay. I'll get you home, you're just tired." This time she doesn't object, simmering in her own shame instead . The walk home is long. His attempts to make conversation are met with walls of silence.

At long last the small cottage comes into view. With great care he places her on the futon before turning away to head for the kitchen.

"May I help?" Her voice is small.

"Of course." His smile is all-in-all brilliant and she doesn't know why it, of all things, would make her feel better. She is chopping vegetables, recalling the times she has seen her mistress do it for experience then:

"I'm sorry."

Her head whips towards the man.

"I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean to...I wasn't making fun of you, honest. You just...Nevermind. I'm sorry."

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

"And I'm sorry if I've made you feel inadequate."

"No!" The exclamation startles even her. "I mean...not at all. I'm sorry for being such bad company earlier." She feels her face getting hotter, but doesn't have time to ponder it. "You've been very kind in taking care of me and I have been acting very ungratefully."

His smile blossoms again – it makes him look even more boyish.

"Then...may I know the name of the person I saved?" There is a challenge behind that voice.

"Ki..." She stops abruptly. She cannot say her true name for it marks her as a demoness. "Kiyoko."

He looks at her oddly but then nods and bows.

"It is good to finally make your acquaintance, Kiyoko-san."

Oh my! She has never had an honorific used in relation to her before. The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach returns ten-fold. Perhaps it is the cold water's fault, she rationalizes.

Then they are back to cooking in silence. They do not speak again that night.

Author's Note: Here we are, the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. A grand 'thank you' to Santorsola, knittingknots and mysterychild for their reviews for the last chapter. I appreciate it. I really love hearing from all of you, so keep writing. :p