Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Chopin. Please do not sue.
Author's Note: Thank you everyone who read the first chapter, and I reserve a special thanks to those of you who read and actually reviewed. I hope you enjoyed it.
Here's the second chapter. Please read and tell me what you think, what you'd like to know, whatever in the form of a review, because I really do read them and take them into consideration as I write!
Have a great Memorial Day weekend!
Chapter 2, Raindrop Prelude
The shot ripped me back to the moment like hitting a deer while going 70 miles an hour on the highway. I jerked my head up, frantically searching my body; the suddenness of the shot and its affect on my brain had made me sure that I'd been the one shot. I found no bullet hole.
What happened next seemed strangely like long division: slow, calculated, and a pain in the ass. I realized everyone was looking at the door. Next, I saw the red light from the alarm where it spilled out across the ground, the shadow that interrupted it grotesque with vague semblance to a human being. Then, I followed the shadow to a pair of converses, a ripped pair of blue jeans, and a faded red tee shirt. There was a hole the approximate size of a bullet through his shirt around his left side. Finally, my eyes fell on his face. Luminous silver locks framed the face, whose details were veiled by shadows.
Two golden eyes met mine through the darkness, and I felt my heart jump into my throat. A strange pulse passed between our bodies in that moment and I had the strange yet undeniable feeling that I had met this person before. It was like I had known him my whole life, and every second of my existence had been ticking down toward my meeting of this single boy that stood in the doorway of a strange house, red light pouring in from behind him.
Then someone tripped on the remote and fast forward was set into motion. My life was suddenly going by ridiculously fast. The controls were ripped from my hand.
"Let them go," the golden-eyed strange commanded. He was tall, with a proud bearing. I guessed he was around my age, if not a little older.
Fukouka sniggered. "Now why would I do that?" I could have sworn that there was a spark of recognition behind those goddamn sunglasses.
"Bastard, let them go." The boy paused and moved into a fighting position. His eyes were as cold and narrow as icicles. "Because I fucking said so."
"President Naraku himself has issued an order for the delivery of this girl. The young boy there is icing on the cake. Would you be willing to pay the consequences that will come to pass should you choose to oppose us?" Fukouka growled. I could feel his anxiety growing.
The boy smirked viciously. "You serious?" His smirk spread. "I'd oppose you for free."
"If you want them, come and get them," Fukouka challenged, though his voice had lost a considerable amount of confidence. From where he stood, I could feel the big man shaking.
The boy and I looked at one another again. I couldn't read what was in his eyes, but there was something dark behind his golden irises. God, how I wish I had known that look; if I had, it would be different. If I had, Souta would be safe. It was a look of discouragement; he knew he couldn't save us both. In that look, he was deciding which of us he would take.
There was a blow to the back of my head. I felt as though I had just been hit by a freight train. My mind reeled and I pitched forward uncontrollably, hitting a table. The corner was sharp like the blade of a knife. It sliced through my lower stomach, a white-hot pain that blinded me. I hit the ground hard --practically a pillow-soft impact compared to the previous two.
I was blind, floundering on the ground like a fish out of water. I kept screaming so that my voice hurt. I don't remember what I screamed. I screamed my rage, my fear. I screamed for Souta, over and over again while bullets whizzed back and forth over my head. I recall being hit once or twice, but the pain in my stomach and head blocked everything else out. Blood was everywhere, red clouds in a rain of bullets. I emptied my stomach on the ground, pitching and reeling, and writhing.
Two strong arms reached out and encircled me. They pulled me in, into warmth and calm. The smells of nighttime filled my nostrils: dew drops, moonbeams, the wind, and the rustle of leaves. They slowed my heart and surrounded me with tranquility. "Hold on tight," a low voice whispered softly in my ear.
I complied, reaching out with my only mobile hand to clench a fistful of a faded red tee shit. My eyes connected once more with those amazing golden lanterns and my troubles slipped away. Then I was lifted from the earth, flying up and up. We hit a glass sunroof and a warm, callused hand shielded my face from the shreds of glass. I closed my eyes, welcoming the breeze whipping against my body.
The timpani of bullets still raged beneath us, but we were detached from them. To my slipping mind, the shower of bullets sounded like nothing more than the rain against my windowpane.
Somewhere between the subconscious and reality, I sat before my windowpane. My eyes were focused unmoving on a single raindrop as it slipped down the glass. Its way was dangerous, riddled with many obstacles. All at once, it was joined by another raindrop, and together they made their way down the pane, conquering the obstacles as they went.
The sleep that followed was feverish, but mercifully dreamless. I woke up again and again. Those warm callused hands chased me through the dark, holding me fast to a world I was eager to leave. Salves and liquids assailed my body, tingling sensations that crept along my skin and banished sharp pains to dull aches. I flickered like a candle in the wind, and I think that I was several times in danger of going out altogether.
But every time, those hands pulled me back with a gentle tug.
Eventually I grew conscious enough to open my eyes. A glass was lifted to my lips, filled with a pink fluid that smelled something like grass. I realized that I was incredibly thirsty; I gulped the liquid down without question.
Sleep filled me immediately after, a merciful shroud that shielded me away from my anguish. I fell through layers of slumber, each pulling me farther and farther from my pain. I wanted to stay there forever, wrapped in the warmth and security of that deepest sleep. But the hands came again, touching me with an almost maternal care. A soft voice whispered to me, calling out time and again a name I did not recognize. It was persistent, and finally I gave up my paradise and returned to reality.
I was alone. Teal sheets covered the bed I rested in. The sheets were stained with blood…my blood, I realized slowly. I quickly shifted my gaze to survey the rest of the room. It was a small bedroom. The bed I inhabited had been shoved into the corner. There was a window inserted in the wall to my left, revealing the brick wall of a neighboring building, the image of which was interrupted by the stark form of a tree. Another window was behind me, farther down the wall. This one permitted me a glimpse of the street below. It was raining outside, and the huge droplets pooled on the cold glass. The walls were the same teal the sheets were, and they were decorated with faded posters of long-extinct rock bands. The shelves around the room and the drawers of a nearby dresser had been speedily emptied, and a few out-of-date outfits hung out of them. Macbeth and Richard III sat discarded on one of the shelves beside an empty picture frame.
Across the room in front of me, a wooden door stood open to a modest kitchen. The floral wallpaper had been ripped in places to reveal the hearts that had previously decorated the room. I adjusted my eyes to my right, where another door stood closed.
I sighed. I was up to my waist in some pretty deep shit.
I tried to get up, and found instantly that it was impossible. I managed to sit up, and even that caused me to pant for air. My head swam, but soon my vision cleared and I was able to control my breathing.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a door being slammed. I sat up rigidly and turned toward the sound, which had been replaced by the stamp of footfalls. There was the smack of something hitting the floor, some foul language, and then the door handle to my left was being turned.
A boy stepped into the room, glaring darkly at the spilled contents of a brown paper grocery bag. I recognized him at once as the boy who had saved my life last night…or was it last night? I had no recollection of how much time had passed.
I was pulled back to the moment as the boy's nose twitched and he looked up at me. "So…you're awake," he said slowly. I think he was trying to sound venomous, but I could detect a hint of relief in his voice. He looked away again and began to recollect the items.
"Where are we? Who are you? Why did you save me? How much time has passed since then? Where's Souta? What's going on?" I asked quickly, my questions coming out in a rush. He raised his hand to stop the flow of questions, and continued to moodily pick up his groceries.
When he had finished with that, he walked over the kitchen. He came back a moment later, and his golden eyes were as cold as they had been when he saw Fukouka. "You've been out for three days. And don't play stupid, Kikyo."
It took me all of five seconds to soak in what he had just said. "Wh-what did you call me?"
He rushed forward so quickly that I barely had time to think. I hit the wall hard, pain shooting through my body. My hands flew to my neck, where his hand had wrapped around my windpipe. "What are you doing?" I gasped, desperate to get air into my lungs. The cut on my side was bleeding again, and I could see the new blood staining the wall.
He lowered his face to mine so that our noses were almost touching. "Why are you still alive!" he howled. At that moment, he sounded more like the one in pain than the one inflicting it. My heart leapt in my chest, and I felt the sudden, strange urge to apologize. "I saw you die. I was soaked in your blood. They blamed me for it…
'You ruined my life, Kikyo."
I dug my nails into the flesh of his arm, trying to rip his hand from my throat. "B-but I'm not K-Kikyo!" I cried. Moisture slipped down my cheek, a mixture of sweat and tears. The pain in my side was so unbearable I thought I would either die or vomit.
"Feh!" he spat. "Very funny. You're not Kikyo, right. I had forgotten. What's this week's flavor, mm? Yuki from Osaka, Mae from Kyoto?"
"No, no!" I shouted. "My name is-"
He leaned in even closer, so that I could feel his warm breath on my neck. A shiver tickled my lower back. He smelled like night, forests, earth, cigarette smoke, and a hint of spice. "No matter who you pretend to be, I can see through your disguise. I can smell it, Kikyo. Did you really think I'd forget your-"
He jerked back like he'd been burnt. I landed back on the bed with a soft plop, rubbing my neck and watching him. He looked profoundly confused, like a deer in the headlights. "Y-you're not Kikyo…!"
I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster. "Like I was trying to say, my name is Kagome. Ka-Go-Me!"
The boy ran a hand through his hair and looked at me awkwardly. Finally, he turned away. "Should've known. Kikyo was much cuter."
I wanted to give him a roundhouse punch to the head, but at the moment, I just felt drained. So, I decided to accept this as an apology. "You're forgiven."
He shot me dirty look, though he was much subdued. "I didn't ask for forgiveness," he reminded me.
I bristled upon impact and started saying the first thing that came to my mind. "I know who you are now," I growled. "You're that- that Inu-something guy. You're the one who killed the seventeen-year-old girl! If I took you to the cops right now, they'd give me a billion yen reward, you know. Maybe even more!"
The boy was startled for a moment, but then he just looked sad. "Inuyasha," he breathed.
"Pardon?"
"My name is Inuyasha. And I didn't kill her. The Go- someone else did it." He walked over to the bed and sat down. "And you wouldn't go to the cops, because the instant you did, they'd turn me and you over to the Government."
I went limp at the mention of the Government. "Why are they after me?" I wondered aloud.
Inuyasha shrugged. After a few moments of silence, he said in a soft voice, "What are you going to do now, girl?"
"Kagome," I reminded him. His blank look told me without a doubt that he couldn't care less what my name really was. I decided to answer his question. "I don't know," I said truthfully. "They know where I live, so I can't go home…"
Inuyasha blinked. "Did they come to your house?"
I tried to respond, but found my voice blocked by unexpected sobs. I quickly brushed them aside, saving them for a later, more appropriate time. "Yeah," I said shortly. Silence. "Inuyasha…"
"Hmm?"
I took a deep breath before I dove. "I want to get those bastards back for what they did. I want to save my family."
Inuyasha's eyes widened. Maybe he detected the curse that was foreign to my tongue. It's strange: now that I think about it, I never used to curse. Not unless I was extremely pissed or in a life-threatening situation, that is. Now, every other line contains some form of explicit language. I guess that comes from too many hours with Inuyasha. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Anyway, Inuyasha's eyes widened. It's a miraculous thing to see those bright golden eyes widen. It's sort of like seeing the sun unfurl itself from a blanket of clouds. "And how do you plan to do that?"
I blushed furiously. I used to be a real shy kid, especially when I was asking someone for their help. "I was kind of hoping that you would…um…"
"Yes?" He cocked one eyebrow. Y'know, this is a kind of strange fact about Inuyasha: he's got white hair and black eyebrows. Now, you wouldn't think this is strange on any normal human, 'cause white-haired people have usually had their hair dyed, or they're just old. But Inuyasha's special. He's a natural whitie, and he's definitely not old, but he still pulls off white hair and black eyebrows. Yeah, I'm still trying to figure this one out.
"I thought that you might help me," I said quickly. His face generated no response, so I prattled on even faster. "I mean, you certainly seem to hate the Government. And if you could get us out of that mess with those Government men without being blown to pieces, you must have some kind of wild powers, right? I can kind of handle a gun-- at least, I put on the safety and stuff…and my aim's not…terrible. And you could teach me whatever I've got to know. So…"
"Fine, yeah, sure."
"What?" His bluntness made me blink.
"I said: Yeah, I'll help you, kiddo."
"Kagome," I corrected him. Then I quickly corrected myself and bowed by head. "And thank you!"
Inuyasha just shrugged.
My eyes connected with his baseball hat. It took him a minute, but he noticed the direction of my gaze and quickly started for the kitchen. "Wait!" I called.
"What do you want now?" He was pretty bad at passing his nerves off as exasperation.
I pointed at the hat. "What do you keep under there?"
He crossed his arms over his chest and squared off to face me. "The same thing everyone else does: my head."
"Lemme see."
"No," he said at once.
My turn to raise an eyebrow. And, incidentally, I have black hair and black eyebrows. "What? Do you have really bad hat hair or something?"
"Um…yeah." He was nervous. I could tell. I could read this guy like a book. So, I decided to have a bit of fun.
"You don't sound too sure about that, super dog," I teased. Actually, Inuyasha's name is one of the funniest names I've ever seen.
"What do you know?" he snapped.
"Just show me," I proposed kindly while making a playful swipe.
"No," he replied, ducking out of my grasp.
"Take it off!" I ordered, swiping with more fervor now.
"No!" he was shouting now.
"What's the big deal?" I yelled, grabbing for it again and again and continually being unsuccessful. "What do you have under there, dog ears!"
That one line was the beginning of a very interesting series of events: 1. He froze. 2. My hand hit his hat. 3. I pulled it free, trumpeting with glee. 4. My eyes connected with his ears. 5. I gasped. 6. I dropped the hat. 7. I screamed.
His hand went instantly to my mouth. "Quiet!" He hissed, looking over his shoulder for any indication that someone had heard my scream. As he did this, the two white dog-ears on the top of his head swiveled around.
When no one came, he looked back at me. "You good?"
I nodded slowly, doubting myself whether or not I was really good.
"Are you sure?" The dog-ears twitched.
I nodded again, holding back the urge to squeal in delight. Once you get used to them, those ears are pretty cute.
His hand fell away.
"What are you?" I asked.
"A hanyou," he spat. "A stupid, weak hanyou."
"H-hanyou?" I stuttered in disbelief. "As in: the offspring of a human and a youkai?" He nodded. "You mean you guys actually exist!"
His face tightened. "There aren't many, but yeah, we exist. Most of us are in hiding." He looked at the window, out into the rain-soaked street below. "Someday… someday though, I'll be a real youkai."
His eyes darted to my face. They were lit with impassioned electricity. "That's why I fight the Government-- to get that thing that will make me a real youkai."
I smiled at him, and he seemed to be surprised by the gesture. But slowly, his own smile grew on his face. It was one of those moments…it was rare and priceless. I will never forget that smile.
"I'm ready," I announced, holding out my hand to him. "Are you?"
He looked at my hand, then surrounded it with his own warm, callused palm. We shook firmly, and our smiles grew. "Let's go kick some Government ass."
I must have overexerted myself during our conversation, because the next moment I was out like a light.
- Ichimu