Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, but I do own this idea.

A/N: I'm coming to steadily regret taking out my original A/Ns from these now edited chapters—but whatever. I wanted a somewhat accurate word count, and my A/Ns aren't part of the story—but they used to be extremely long. Trust me when I say this is for the best. *sniffs, walks away*

Terminology

People/Names
Yougisha – honorific for a criminal suspect
Jukeisha – honorific for a convict/offender
Keibu – honorific for a police inspector/captain
Houshi – most often a Buddhist priest or monk
Reibai – spirit medium, "ghost whisperer"
Youkaihanta – ghost buster, spirit hunter
Ningen – human being, mortal

Things
Youki – typical demonic or youkai energy/aura
Jyaki – wicked demonic or youkai energy/aura
Suikan Kamishimo – outfit composed of matching hakama and suikan (Inu's red clothes)

SOULMATE:
YOU'RE A SOUL YET I'M YOUR MATE?

4: Tokyo Trouble

"Life is like a grapefruit. It's orange and squishy,
and has a few pips in it, and
some folks have half a one for breakfast."

—Douglas Adams

I dislike mornings strongly. People such as myself—people who have supernatural occupations—were born to be nocturnal, I'm sure of it. Most of my work occurs at night, so I'm used to sleeping in to around noon or the early afternoon. This is the reason for me chucking my hidden knife at my brother on accident when he gives me a rude awakening. (Hey, don't judge me, despite my weirdness stating otherwise.) At least Souta, the little pea-for-a-brain, was smart enough to run off as soon as he yelled, "GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!"

I groan, forcing myself to get up and retrieve the knife from the door before sticking it back on the Velcro hidden on my bedpost. I'm sure Jii-chan won't notice the deep indentation in the door, but if he suddenly grows brains and gets curious, I'm screwed. I'll probably have to come up with a reasonable explanation, though it's not hard to convince a demon-believing, senile senior citizen that you thought there was a youkai trying to attack you in your weak state of slumber in the first place.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, trying to will myself to erase all traces of weariness. After forcing a brush through my unruly hair and changing into my green and white uniform, I quickly scarf down a satisfying piece of bread before grabbing my yellow backpack, which had been prepared the night prior. I snap my fingers at Souta, demanding that he hurry, and call out to the old coot, "JII-CHAN! We're leaving for school!" Because, as always, I have the duty of dropping Souta off at middle school for seventh grade before I head to high school for twelfth grade.

Souta quickly points to the knife set in the kitchen, silently asking if I have any weapons. I scoff. As if I wouldn't. I lift up my loose-fit shirt to reveal my hidden waist-guns, then show him the thin sword against my spine. I reveal my arms from the shirt sleeves, where some containers and packets of chalk, purification dust, grave soil, and holy water have been wrapped on. Then I move my knee-length, baggy socks to expose pocketknives—everything being purified or easily having the ability to kill any youkai or evil spirits we come across.

The thirteen-year-old nods, letting out a sigh of relief. Unlike Tsuyu who disapproves of my weapons, Souta has deeply encouraged them ever since his friend Taru was attacked by demon on his walk home from school. I'm guess I'm somewhat of a protector in my little brother's eyes ever since I took a few hits from and killed the demon that'd injured his friend. Not that I mind the gender roles being switched—men are "supposed" to protect the women, after all—but I do think it'd be somewhat nice to have an assistant or someone to help me every once in a while.

Not that I would ever confess that to anyone, since I myself am now denying ever letting that thought enter my mind.

We exit the house, and my gaze automatically drifts to Goshinboku. Inuyasha is sleeping away on that tree, the lucky dog (no pun intended). I have the urge to wake him up, just to wipe away my envy, by wrangling his neck or stabbing him repeatedly—hey, he'd heal just fine!—yet I decide better of it. When Souta follows my line of sight and doesn't see anything in the tree, he gives me a confused look. I explain soft and curtly, "One of my friends from last night." If I could count this idiot as a friend, that is. Souta nods in understanding, shrinking away once he spots the evil smirk that spreads across my face. Because even though I promised myself not to wake him violently…

"YO, INUYASHA!"

And just like that, said sleeping hanyou falls out of the tree and lands face-down on the ground. He grumbles, lifting his face from the earth, "WHAT THE FUCK?"

I don't know why we're all yelling this morning, but I'm having fun, that's for sure. "Don't you know it's about time to wake up?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. He growls, avoiding the question. Rephrase: "You sleep all day, don't you?" When he grins, I almost grab a weapon right then and there. That bastard. I wish I could sleep all the time. "Go do something productive," I huff, crossing my arms.

"Like what?" he snarls before his eyes flicker to my little brother. He looks just as baffled as Souta now.

Oh, yeah. They don't know each other, despite last night. After the introductions, Souta gushes, "He's the hanyou from the story?" I nod, and cringe when he gives out a squeal, before I cautiously take a few steps away from his area. Creepiest teenager anyone will ever come across, I think with a shake of my head.

Inuyasha's ears flatten to his head, and I almost swoon at the cute sight. It's a good thing Souta can't see Inuyasha, or his yells might've gotten louder at seeing such an adorable-puppy movement. Inuyasha mumbles suspiciously, "Why's he so excited?"

I smile. "Souta heard about your story two nights ago and really enjoyed it." He tilts his head, still not comprehending. I sigh, "He's a fan of good youkai and yuurei, and loves hearing about fairytales coming true. Me meeting one of the demons—whether they be half or not—in the fairytale is exciting for him, and he gets further enthusiastic when the youkai is a good guy." And my, uh…ally? Friend? Eh, he's just whatever.

Inuyasha blinks, as if doing a double-take while musing over my little explanation. "Still don't make sense," he mutters, and I roll my eyes. Moving on…

"Now that you're wearing that bracelet"—I point to said object—"you can do a lot of things we humans can, if you haven't noticed. You can touch surfaces, read light books that aren't my journal, maybe secretly help out Jii-chan with the shrine, just look through the house—anything except lift heavy objects and do evil. You might not want to wander too far from the shrine, either, since there are taijiya and youkaihanta who wouldn't hesitate on ending your existence, even though you're just a soul and a (mostly) good half-demon. You got that?"

"Roger," he says, using the new phrase I taught him and Shippou yesterday. Tear. I'm so proud of—

Oh, right! "Also," I murmur, "it wouldn't hurt you to play with Shippou. He needs the company."

Inuyasha's about to snap at me, probably complaining about why I won't do it, when Souta taps my shoulder. He shouts, "Nee-chan, we need to get to school!"

Noticing that we have only ten more minutes to reach our destinations, I realize that yep, we'd better get going. "Bye, Inuyasha," I say with a small wave as Souta and I scuttle off the shrine grounds. Inuyasha gives me a perplexed look—nothing too surprising about that—but I shrug it off as I turn to leave. His somehow-strong demonic aura fades with each step, and when we're a block away, it's completely gone.

Since two nights ago, when I first met him, when he was full-demon—though I don't exactly know why… His aura has faded slightly. It's still stronger than I expected a hanyou's to be, but not as strong as when he was full-youkai, obviously, for not only did he have more demonic power then, but he also had jyaki leaking out from his whole being. Yet, I can't help wondering why he transformed like that, why he couldn't remember meeting me, why his youki is much more powerful than any normal half-demon's probably would be.

Souta and I pass by familiar and unique buildings alike on our way to the schools, which aren't that far away from each other. There's a WacDonald's, various clothing shops, a small bookstore, a fancy European restaurant, a sushi bar, and numerous small businesses. Alleyways cover the gaps in-between the structures, perfect for fighting crime and leaving the bad guy hanging upside-down for the police to catch, though unbeknownst to them, the hero's either busting another bad guy, chilling back at his previous location, or watching from the shadows.

That was my let's fight crime comic-book–style side speaking, by the way.

As we pass by the space between the bookstore and antique shop, I feel a faint sense of doom. Traces of jyaki wrap around us, and Souta shivers from its intensity. "What is that?" he wonders aloud, still not familiar with the feeling a demonic aura sends.

"Youkai," I whisper, stopping him with my arm. I motion for him to hide behind a car. It's a place where I can see him, but where a demon wouldn't. Once I'm sure of his safety—which has been confirmed when he runs off without saying goodbye, screaming bloody murder—I pull out one of my guns, steadying it as I prepare to fire. I calmly yet slowly approach the alleyway, hearing small speeches and exclamations as I do so.

"My," a male voice says, sounding smooth while trying to hide pain. "You're quite the feisty one, aren't you?"

I don't even want to question that.

"DIE!" comes a female's totally-cliché, bloodcurdling scream, making me quicken my pace upon recognizing the unique tone. That's the voice of a demon! I come into the clearing, see a human in a giant centipede youkai's mouth, and rush over to help. I pull the trigger three times, effectively hitting the demon before it whips the human male from its teeth, letting him bang into one of brick walls, and it turns to me. It sneers, and I smirk back as it approaches full-speed towards me. I'm reaching for the sword on my back when I feel its teeth rip through my side, making the wound Inuyasha made reopen and worsen.

Great. Two times in less than forty hours. Whoopidee-freaking-doo.

Once it's run through the confined area, making a move towards me again, I draw the blade and swipe at its middle, cutting it in half as it passes by. Then, within the blink of an eye, it gasps in pain before sneering at me and lunging so swiftly, it nearly flies through the air as my body hits the floor and it's wavering above me. The youkai hisses, and I manage the ever-so-taunting smirk before it flies at me, skimming down the middle of the alleyway.

Unfortunately for it, the thing forgets I'm still quick as I slide underneath it, making its weapons—its teeth—pass by me unnoticeably before I pull out my blade and let it slice through its middle. Now that I've officially torn it apart, cutting it in half vertically and horizontally, I move out of the way before it falls to the ground and turns into dust. I sigh, walking forth to retrieve my purified sword, avoiding the dented and useless bullets resting beside it.

After sliding the blade back into the sheath wrapped around my torso and in-line with my spine, I approach the man the demon attacked. His indigo eyes glitter flirtatiously, and he has black hair pulled back into a rat's tail, showing his multiple golden earrings. Blood's seeping out of his wounds a little, but he still shoots me a charming smile on his noble, handsome face. I then realize he's not a full-fledged adult like his voice made him seem; he's probably in his late teens, similar to me.

I have the feeling I should dub him as "hot", but sadly, this comes through my mind instead:

Meh, Inuyasha's hotter.

I mean, really. Inuyasha? Attractive? Pff, please. Yes, he's physically appealing, but emotionally? I'm not too sure about that one. Besides, "hot" isn't the right label for him. I'd say he looked kind of wild, rough, and striking in a bad-boy sort of way, which, now that I think about it, is my definition of "hot"—

Know what? I will now use the magical powers of naiveté by thinking of other things to get my mind off of the one-of-a-kind hanyou.

The should-be-hot guy I've just met hums, "I'm honored to thank such a great, beautiful miko such as you for killing the youkai Mistress Centipede."

I blink. And blink again. I was going to patch up his wounds and make sure to knock him out so that when he woke up, it'd be like a bad dream—he wouldn't realize that he'd actually been attacked by a demon, especially after I healed his wounds with my spiritual powers. That's what I always do: confuse them, make them think it was all a nightmare. But this guy knows the existence of youkai and miko—and now that I've looked harder, I can see his spiritual aura. Though it's weaker than mine, it's there, and that's enough to assure me that he must be in league with a taijiya organization. "I suppose so," I finally say, narrowing my eyes slightly as his hand wanders to a forbidden place. I snatch it before it gets even close and look at him dead in the eye. "What kind of monk feels up his savior?"

"This one," he murmurs with a devious grin. I roll my eyes, deciding he's harmless before dropping him to the ground. He groans when he hits, but still manages to smile. "Houshi Miroku, monk and demon slayer of the Shikon Five," he says suddenly. "But in my personal life, I am Miroku, third-year at Midoriko High School. Now, who might you be?"

Shikon, I think, rolling the word over in my mind. Sounds familiar. "Higurashi Kagome, miko, reibai, and youkaihanta," I answer, effectively leaving out my ability to see red strings. His thread is shining bright and leading to inside the antique shop, so I know that his soul mate is nearby. And telling him that outright is weird, so I think I'll keep it to myself. "It seems we're classmates."

I let my backpack drop with a thud before pulling out my first aid kit. Miroku insists, "That's not necessary, Lady Kagome. My base is just inside that door. I can be treated there." He points to the antique store, and I nod as a substitute for a goodbye before repacking my things. I get from the floor, ignoring the pain from my injury, and ignore Miroku's calls for me to turn back. Why won't I? It'd suddenly crossed my mind:

I'M GONNA BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!

I limp, still shunning the bleeding from my side. I don't know where Souta is; he probably ran off to his school, the wimp. Even though I'm fully able to protect him and all that good stuff, my brother is one of those people—the ones who will happily get excited when planning to save the world, but when the plan begins and they actually get in the warzone, they instantly turn to Jell-O: just completely freakin' useless. This is why it didn't surprise me in the slightest when I saw him scurry off like Courage the Cowardly Dog.

I just realized how much I miss that show.

I dab at the wound with my shirt, my brain forgetting to remind me that I have gauze in my backpack for injuries such as these. I shuffle through said bag for my schedule, which Jii-chan had given me early. I read what class I will be in, and nearly groan when I see I'm in Class B. B! Future doctors are not supposed to be in Class B!I'm supposed to be in Class A, damn it all!

I crumple the paper before remembering I need other information from it, too. I read it once more before making my way to the H section of the lockers. I approach mine, twisting in the combination before giving it a good yank, which was actually hard to do since my other hand was too busy attempting to heal my still-bleeding side. Usually, my spiritual powers kick in and heal my injuries without me trying, but since my side had previously been hurt, it's taking longer than usual—that, and I used some of my spiritual power not too long ago.

Trying to avoid the pain as much as possible while my fingers dig into the harshly-treated skin, I slip my backpack into my locker and let my thoughts wander to Shippou and his body. I wonder about it, since not only is it rare to survive wounds such as his, but to heal for this long. Unless his body was already dying before that and trying to fix that as well, or unless he was still growing, I don't understand why—

It just hit me: Shippou is a little kid. Yes, I knew that before, but when a soul leaves its body, it looks like it did when it left (minus the immense injuries). That meant Shippou was a little kid when he left his body, which means who knows if his body is still the same or not. He could be growing like a normal kitsune!

I hurry my pace a little at that information, now determined to help him more than ever. He must've missed so much of his childhood, and his body's probably around Souta's or maybe even my or Inuyasha's age. I'm not going to stall any longer—I will help Shippou get his body back!

Though I have to say, I'll miss having a little kid to hold in my arms or have on my lap or cling to me for help. I know his body will be bigger than his spirit is now; adult kitsune are three to four heads taller than he already is, so if his body's a teenager right now, he'd be at least a head larger. For some reason, after even spending a day with him, the thought of him not being a child anymore depresses me. But, alas, I must keep marching forth.

Sigh.

I feel my bleeding stop—thank gods—and look down to inspect my hands, which are not a pretty sight. Whereas one is clean from carrying my things, thus avoiding the wound, the other is drenched in a dried, sticky red liquid. Ugh, remind me to use my first aid kit more often. Taking in my shirt's bloody, torn condition as well, I grimace. Maybe I should use a sewing kit, too…

"Oh, my, what on Earth happened to you?"

I have the faint feeling that question is being directed towards me. I blink at the sight before me: a male classmate in an all-black uniform with a cute appearance. There's no single stunning trait, nothing stands out, but I bet girls look at this guy and just think, Wow, he's a good, cute guy. I blink again before finally muttering, "Eh, what?"

"You're bleeding like mad!" he gasps, looking at my hand with panicked blue eyes. Oh, geez. Please don't make him speak again— "I'll help you, don't worry!" He instantly grabs my reddened hand, and my eyes widen. He whips out a few things from his locker, which is right next to mine, and begins washing away the blood with a disinfected wipe. When he's finished creeping me out—sort of—he asks cheerily, "Now that you're better"—I frown, because he's obviously not noticed my shirt's condition—"you're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you before, and they don't really fill in spaces between lockers—"

"Yeah, I'm new," I interrupt, not caring if that was rude or not. He's wasting my time. Not only do I have to take care of my clothes—though my skirt's just fine—I have to go to class and suffer before I'm able to get out and try to find a new job for demon slaying, ghost hunting, and matchmaking. I also have to see how my realistic, possible job's playing out, if Jii-chan needs help at the damned shrine, and how Shippou and Inuyasha have played out this entire day without me—since their immature, violent interactions from yesterday concern me greatly if they truly are an everyday thing. I finally tell cute-but-not-so-bright boy, "I am Higurashi Kagome, third-year, Class B."

I hiss out the letter venomously, but he doesn't seem to mind. "And I'm a third-year in Class A." DAMN IT ALL! "Hojo—"

"Gotta go, bye!" I say, running off to class. Now am I not only going to be late, but I'm still wearing a ruined shirt. "Damn it all" is right; ef my life.

I grimace, remembering Hojo. Yes, he was nice, yet no, he did not appeal to me. He's extremely annoying? Very true. He didn't just leave me alone like I would've wanted. For some reason, his just asking me what happened is like demanding to know my entire life story, which is confidential. He kind of reminds me of my mother—and not in a good way, either. More like in the ways she would panic over a paper-cut or act overly friendly all the time.

I sigh again. I miss you, Mama.

I step into the classroom, textbooks and other materials close to my chest as I take in my new peers. Most are average-looking, if not a little pretty or charming. Perfect examples of teenagers, minus the zit-covered faces. The bell is about to ring, so I take the first empty seat I spot, which is between three girls talking their butts off. Their eyes land on me and widen with glee instantly.

"Omigods, who are you?"

"Are you new to the neighborhood?"

"What's your name?"

My eye twitches but I force a smile. "Higurashi Kagome," I tell them. "I just moved into my grandfather's place here from my cousin's place from a little faraway."

"Where are your pare—"

"Who are you?" I ask, deciding to cut off the girl with the shortest hair. Thankfully, she doesn't mind my disruption, and introduces herself as Yuka whereas the girl with the shoulder-length locks and a hair band is Eri and the longhaired one's Ayumi. They ask me common questions, I ask them back, being nice, but not really paying attention. That is, until Ayumi notices my shirt's stain and rip, sounding honestly concerned when she asks what happened.

It's great to know people care—but in this case, caring only causes problems. I smile at her and assure them all simply, "It's Kool-Aid. Just really, really good-at-staining Kool-Aid." They blink a few times, their lips twisting in unison. Yeah, I don't think that worked. "Eh, I'd rather not talk about it," I insist, and they nod solidly before our sensei wanders in. He goes over announcements and school events before passing out newspapers. Apparently, in this school, they like to keep up with the news.

And, due to my situation, this isn't good for me at all.

"We've all discussed the wide range of murders across the west Kyoto area," Tamaru-sensei says, and though young, sounds completely professional. I force myself to maintain a good posture, afraid that if I don't keep control over myself, I'll sink into my seat and whimper like the bad yougisha I am. "We've talked about Kotatsu Jukeisha and the sixteen killings he's claimed to commit. We've gone into his mind, trying to see why he'd say youkai helped him, but have come up short. Tell me, new student"—gulp—"why would he turn himself in, yet lie about his motives? Who do you think was the female who'd pressured him into going to the police?"

I feel some sweat coming on. Oh, gods, this is too much. "Um…" I'm sure I look like your average, nervous student, but inside, I want to release a beastly scream of anxiety. Despite my nonchalant exterior, I'm freaking out internally. "Who are we to believe that Kotatsu Jukeisha is lying?"

I feel curious, doubtful eyes on me, and I resist the urge to jump out of the window. Tamaru-sensei raises his eyebrows, giving me an amused look. "Are you saying that you think he indeed used demons to obtain people's insides?"

"I don't think, sensei," I inform him, realizing I can get control of this situation. I plaster on a cocky smirk I'd seen once from a bipolar hanyou, and make sure to copy his pleased expression. "I know."

My new three acquaintances and some other girls gasp, though everyone else keeps watching, entertained by us, probably. The girls, I believe, are attracted to our teacher because of his good looks. He raises his other eyebrow. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

"Yes, sensei," I answer. "What other explanation is there at this point? Kotatsu's not smart enough to do anything on his own, so why not have demons do the work for him? Makes a lot of sense, if you ask me." Ignoring everyone's stares because I'm speaking as if demons are real and I know the killer personally, I go on. "I think everything he said was the truth, except being forced by a female. What female could be threatening? Even if she was real, I have no idea as to who this female is, but I'm pretty sure she's still in the Kyoto area—you know, where they wouldn't look to check, since most people move out of the city."

Wait, if that was the case, why did I move? And, is it possible that my rambling's became suspicious? I think so, since Tamaru-sensei asks curiously, "How would you know so much about this?"

"I used to live in Kyoto," I reply calmly, and mentally pat myself on the back for keeping my cover while being truthful. "My old guardian's soul mate is Nobunaga Keibu." Well, no lie there. "He tells me everything going on with the case since it greatly interests me." Translation: "He doesn't know it, but I bugged his office when he tried to hit on my cousin. I was so stealthy when I went in there, telling him that she wouldn't return his call, that she didn't remember meeting him at her work that one time. When he was shocked at my sudden appearance and words—not to mention opposition to she and he going out—I slipped the bug underneath a corner chair! Great, isn't it? When I worked with the police without their knowledge, I used that to kill demons and ghosts in Kyoto until Kotatsu-bastard came along and my cover's almost been blown! YAY for Kagome!"

I repeat: ef my life.

Everybody but the teacher seems convinced that I'm telling the truth. Tamaru-sensei, however, smiles casually before giving me a look that says, "Let's go talk in the hallway." I hold back a groan and a whimper as I rise from my seat, making my way across the room and to the door. I feel a familiar gaze on me, but I'm sure it's nothing.

After all, with his sensitive hearing, what kind of inu-hanyou is stupid enough to go to a noisy, dramatic place such as a school? I turn and nearly faint at the sight before me.

Inuyasha, suikan kamishimo and all, is sitting outside the window sill, cross-legged with his arms tucked inside his sleeves. I stare, wide-eyed, before softly grimacing, hoping my classmates won't notice why I'm setting a death look towards the window, where Inuyasha's ethereal body is nothing but air to them, normal ningen. His molten-gold eyes gaze into me, making my heart stutter for some odd reason, before glaring at my teacher, who's already by my side, ready to exit the classroom. Inuyasha growls, his voice only audible to a reibai's ears.

I guess that's why I really do faint when Tamaru-sensei glares back with a growl of his own. My last thought, you ask?

WHY IN ALL THE HELLS IS INUYASHA AT HIGH SCHOOL?

And then I hear a thunk before I drift into sleep.