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

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed; I appreciate all your feedback. :) I know last chapter was confusing—it was supposed to be—so if you're confused, don't feel stupid; you just got punked by ol' purduepup. X3 Everything will be explained eventually.

Also, you can thank the wondrous Tomatosoup inc. for looking over this chapter for me; she helped me find Kagome's voice and organize a few parts. She's amazing, and I definitely recommend her fics! :)

Terminology

People/Names
Yougisha –honorific for a criminal suspect
Jukeisha – honorific for a convict/offender
Keibu – honorific for a police inspector/captain
Reibai –spirit medium, "ghost whisperer"
Youkaihanta –ghost buster, spirit hunter
Tanuki – a raccoon-dog demon/youkai
Yariman – "you whore" in Japanese; a girl who will go to bed with anyone
Onee-san – a child's polite way of addressing a young female stranger
Ookami – "wolf" in Japanese; however, Japanese wolves have been extinct since 1905
-kun – a honorific most often used for a teenage boy, sometimes for girls in the workplace
-chan – a honorific used for a teenage girl, little kids, childhood friends, or small animals

Things
Suikan – Japanese hunting jacket with squared shoulders and wide sleeves (Inu's red shirt)
Suikan Kamishimo – outfit composed of matching hakama and suikan (Inu's red clothes)
Shoji – a Japanese sliding door composed of a screen made of rice paper

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

9: She Whose Eyes Won't Close

"I find I always have to write something on a steamed mirror."

—Elaine Dundy

I knew with this morning's sunrise, a beautiful day was upon us, especially for a day taking place after a funeral. The trees seemed greener than usual, the leaves more lively, almost like nature was thanking me and the kids-turned-wonders for annihilating those irritating, disgusting, little youkai. As I walked to school with Souta by my side earlier today, people were out on the streets and basking in the sunshine as if it'd go away in a short while, a nearby market bustling with business and the restaurants we passed before now stocked with customers. Even Souta had a bounce in his step the moment we slid out the door with ease, deciding to give Jii-chan some time to sleep in, and I nearly had a heart attack when Shippou greeted me energetically whereas Inuyasha managed to be more talkative and even more annoying than usual as he followed me around all morning.

However, unlike everybody else—to be absolutely and painfully blunt—I probably look shitfaced and ready to collapse.

Translation: I'm having trouble staying awake in my currently Kouga-less class.

It seems my head has a magnetic attraction to my desk, and my eyes have glazed over. Not only have my eyes gone hazy due to the oil on my skin and lack of moisture, but I smell like a fresh, walking bottle of perfume since it was the only way for me to smell nice without running late for school. I'd gotten home at six in the morning, barely the time to go back to bed and shower before leaving for school around seven. I'd just changed into a clean uniform and made breakfast for Souta and I, the prior receiving a death glare when he walked down the stairs, yawning, obviously having gotten a good night's rest. This left me little to do to prepare myself for school, to say the least.

As my head sways forward and back repeatedly, torn between lying down to nap and sitting up to actually learn, Inuyasha shows no concern as he keeps complaining about the smells and noises of high school, and most importantly, how much the perfume Tsuyu gave me for my last birthday "stinks ass". I'm so tired, I let it slide (even when he says he's had enough and plans to go haunt the biology lab, which I also let go), and I'm so out of it that as I walk home without Souta (who's managed to snag a new friend), I almost don't acknowledge some guy calling out my name.

Almost—because when a hand touches my bottom, I feel more alert than I have the entire day.

Letting out a shriek, I backhand the perpetrator before my sleepless self realizes the offender had been Miroku of the Shikon Five.

And now I can see why Yue-Laou said he was a pervert, though his first attempt at feeling me up should've been a big clue.

"My apologies, Lady Kagome," he grunts, rubbing a dark red handprint on his cheek as he meets my gaze honestly, "but I only wished to seek your interest for a moment." Once I glare at him, he hurriedly explains, "You would not respond to your name being called, or the taps on the shoulder I gave you."

…really? I didn't even notice.

Staring at said body part in suspicion, I screw a fist into one of my eyes as I beat a yawn. "Better make it quick," I tell him sleepily, "before the pavement becomes my new mattress."

Despite his violet eyes revealing some amusement, Miroku looks rushed right then and there, as if I've suddenly put him under pressure. I study the sidewalk warily, wondering how comfortable it'd be to snooze on, on a scale of one to ten. I'm so fixated with the sidewalk—I'm thinking maybe…three? Four? Eh, good enough—that I almost miss his hurried explanation.

"…come with me and meet them."

…alright, so I did miss it.

"What?" I grumble, feeling my eyelids grow heavier by the moment. "I don't speak gibberish, good sir. Let sleeping dogs lie."

Did that just come out of my mouth? Dear Kami—prior to what I initially believed, I really, really need sleep to function.

"What?" Miroku responds, confused, and I only stare at him blankly. Shaking his head, he repeats—and I listen very carefully for this, mind you—"I told my team about you the other day, and they've gained interest in your abilities; we think you might be able to help with a few missions. We'd been having issues with the sewer youkai Mistress Centipede for months, and you took her down in less than ten, maybe even five minutes. We'd been doing research like crazy and—"

I stop listening. Meh, if it's important, I'll get scolded for it and move on.

He must've finished because a silence ensues where I gaze at him blankly, and he just stares back at me with a perplexed look, as if trying to figure me out. Then, almost smiling, he asks, "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"None," I yawn, rubbing at my eye again. It doesn't really help my attention span when my eyes begin to droop and, like now, begin to close.

Miroku stares for a moment longer, his indigo eyes blinking.

I begin to tilt.

Luckily, before I hit the pavement and flail like it's nobody's business, something whacks my neck, black spots coat my vision, and I go limp. And, surprisingly, I only think one thing before fainting:

Don't go to sleep—if you do, Inuyasha's sure to fuck something up!

Whoops.

/~\*/~\*/~\*/~\*/~\

I wake up to my stomach being jabbed repeatedly into a broad shoulder, and faintly recognize the rat's tail and my new school's male uniform before I realize what's happened. Although I appreciate Miroku's forcing sleep upon me and trust this monk's intentions, the thoughts of what could've happened while I was unconscious make me see red, especially since my backside is probably in his peripheral vision.

After kicking and punching his torso for a good amount of time, I give up, tired since I used up some of what little energy I have. I'm somewhat impressed with how well he took my struggles perfectly in stride, but upon recalling how I've had my stomach torn about three times this week, the admiration pretty much dies instantly. However, even though I just used some of my energy, I'm more awake than I've been all day, which I'm grateful for.

I don't remember much from Miroku, being that our first encounter was during a fight. I remember he smiled a lot, even with a wound in his stomach, and he didn't want me to waste my time giving him medical treatment (of the doctor or miko kind). So once I've gone motionless, scanning our surroundings for any familiar landmarks, and he speaks, I try to listen since I'll have to play matchmaker for him soon and it'd be nice to know my client.

His voice teasing me as he asks, "Are you alright now, Lady Kagome, or do we have to dump you off on a bench so you'll have enough sense to pay attention?"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be alright," I mutter dryly, narrowing my eyes when spotting a bookstore that's popped into my memories a few times. Resting an elbow on his back to relieve some pressure from my stomach, I ask, even though I already know the answer, "We're heading to Shikon Five headquarters, aren't we?"

It doesn't take a genius to know he's smirking like Kouga did at my observation skills. "Yes, we are," he confirms, his grip on me loosening as he gradually slows to a stop. He sets me down carefully, his hands fortunately at my sides, and I nod in thanks, understanding that this is where I begin walking. Honestly, I'm grateful for the fact that he even bothered to let me rest for a bit, and at that, carry me the whole time. However, I'll admit I'm a bit surprised my stomach doesn't flip like it would with other schoolgirls under the same situation.

Before he can make some perverted comment about how "as much as he loved carrying me and being so close", I decide to start the interrogation game. "What is the Shikon Five? Or more specifically, who?" I ask as I double-check that all my weapons are present and strapped securely. After all, while bouncing on someone's shoulder, even things tied around your waist and arms have a chance of falling and getting lost.

Miroku glances at me inquisitively, taking in my activities probably, before shrugging nonchalantly, a friendly smile glued on to his charming face. Unknowing of how my conscious again settled for thinking Inuyasha's face is hotter (but much less charming)—bleh—he goes on to answer me, his eyes wandering over our surroundings. "A group of four people and myself, probably, hunting demons and trying to keep Tokyo alive," he answers with a sly grin.

Oh, great—a comedian. I let out a falsely amused laugh. "Haha, hoho, ha. You're so funny," I reply wryly, then add mentally, Not.

Grin widening at my sarcasm, he says in a somewhat more serious voice, "You wouldn't believe it, but there's really just four of us. A monk, being myself, a taijiya trained especially for youkai-slaying, my tanuki assistant, and a demon who is our messenger between the demonic society and—"

"Wait," I interrupt, something clicking in my mind as my attention turns away from my chipped pocketknife and towards his curious, bemused expression. "Demonic society? As in, a youkai-based community or organization with only youki beings taking part, disguising themselves as humans to fit into the natural world?"

Miroku blinks a few more times, probably wondering why I'd ask. "Why, yes; I believe so," he answers slowly. Well, I think stoically, remembering the incident in the school infirmary yesterday, that explains enough. "Like taijiya and youkaihanta, the demonic society doesn't wish to be represented negatively, which is why we've teamed up over the years to rid the world of jyaki and evil yuurei, though we are more focused on the 'evil youkai' portion of the job." Eyes widening as if realizing something, Miroku turns to me with a surprised expression. "You mean you didn't know all of this before?"

I'd love to lie and pretend as if it were old information, but instead I shake my head. "The only time I've ever spent at taijiya headquarters was for free training and weaponry," I tell him truthfully, and he nods his head, ahhing as if my words explain it all. "The very small station in Kyoto offered me numerous positions as miko, reibai, medium, and so on, but I turned them down each time since I prefer doing my own cases."

He smiles, showing that he's interested and listening to me, and his eyes meet mine with an amused sparkle in them. "And how has that been working out for you?" he wonders, nearing the Shikon Five building already.

"The last few times I did my own cases," I begin sordidly, nose twitching, "ended with me getting kicked out of Kyoto and undergoing major sleep deprivation." Not to mention questioning my sanity, I don't add. Damn—the whole thing with Kohaku still confuses me. I have the bracelet as proof that it happened, but besides my memories of last night, that's all the evidence I have. Sure, I could track down the kids taken captive by the kappa if I really wanted to, but would be worth bringing back bad memories and blowing off our cover to their parents?

No, it wouldn't be. Even though I want my questions answered like most detectives do, I don't want to cause any more problems while doing so.

"I see," Miroku says wisely, nodding in that understanding way again with a permanent grin plastered on his face. Then, his gaze widening once more, he questions curiously, "You're from Kyoto? And this is why you've been loopy all day—did you go on a mission last night?"

Rolling my eyes lightly at all his questions, I just nod in response. I can trust Miroku with this information, especially when it involves Kotatsu; a taijiya would never rat out another to the authorities, not even if their reputation is at stake. It's simple law in the youkai-slaying community and one of the few guidelines I learned back at the small Kyoto station. "Yes, I'm from Kyoto," I answer, turning my head away to look around the area again. "And yes, I have been out of it all day because I came home around six o'clock in the morning from a mission."

After he proves to me he's still listening, Miroku enters the alleyway where we met, stopping in front of the side door and glancing at me, as if I should signal when and if he should enter. Having the strongest urge to roll my eyes again—it's becoming a habit in his presence—I gesture towards the building, and he raps on the door a few times in an irregular rhythm. And then, after closing his eyes, widening his smile, and taking a deep breath, he sings.

And I mean, he sings.

"OH, little orb shining so bright, WON'T YOU GUIDE MY SLAY TONIGHT—"

I quickly pale in embarrassment. Oh, dear god.

The door whips open, and we're ushered inside by a girl wearing an all black and red spandex suit. Once the door is shut firmly behind us, I stand off to the side as she smacks Miroku upside the head, cursing him for singing again—apparently, it's not a group routine—and he turns sheepish under her attention. After I note how easily it is to read Miroku, Sango turns to me, regarding my appearance with critical, near-magenta eyes.

How do I know it's Sango? By the red string connecting her and Miroku, of course.

She has bright, healthy skin that reminds me of Tsuyu's, hinting that she spends more time inside than she does outside. Dark brown hair resembling a near-black tumbles down to her waist in a messy ponytail sleeked with sweat and oil, giving off the image that she must've been working out or, because of her slayer outfit, training. I meet her eyes, and when she returns the fervor, I know she's challenging me as I am her. It's a technique to see who you have to be careful around and who you can trust, so when her eyes soften and she nods, I know she's approved of my presence in her taijiya headquarters. She smiles and I return the gesture, thinking it's nice to meet someone as cautious about people's character as I am, before she frowns again once Miroku speaks.

"My dearest Sango," he groans, managing to sound just fine while rubbing his head, "this is Lady Higurashi Kagome, the miko who saved me the other day." I raise my eyebrow at the endearment tacked to her name whereas one of her eyebrows ticks, and she pinches his arm, making him flinch.

I wince and scoot away unnoticeably. If she treats him like this over the small things, I don't even want to know how she reacts to him knocking me out.

After he yelps and I'm left wide-eyed at how many times she's hurt him already, she turns to me, bowing deeply in respect. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Higurashi-miko-sama," she says so genuinely, I actually feel somewhat flustered. I'm not used to being treated respectfully as a guest; I'm usually in such a hurry, I don't have time for formality, and if I have to use formality, it's with my educators and interviewees, not someone young. It makes me wonder what I've done to earn such respect, especially since we've just met.

Hesitantly but surely, I return her bow and greeting, mumbling something about just calling me by my first name. She smiles, nods in return, and asks, "Do you wish for tea?" Thinking of the hanyou that could raiding the city right about now, I shake my head vigorously, but Miroku nods eagerly, making Sango glare at him before moving a shoji screen and emerging into the back.

I give Miroku a quick glare for contradicting my words, but he shrugs helplessly. "Sorry," he says sheepishly, "I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't help it", my ass.

"Sango's tea is just to die for," he insists with a promising smile, not a trace of doubt in his eyes. "Trust me—you haven't lived until you've tried it."

I blink, noting how he can daze one girl while complimenting another, and then nod my consent to his actions. After Miroku and I take our seats in the traditionally-styled Japanese room—and I glare at him for a few more minutes—Sango comes in with our tea, setting it down on the table before us. Since we're nowhere close to the original attire for a tea ceremony, nor are we experiencing the pace or traditions of one, we just talk and sip our tea.

After I take my first sip, my eyes widen at the accuracy of Miroku's words, but when I look at him to confirm, yes, Sango's tea is legendary, he's focused on the tea's maker. "Do you know of Hachi's whereabouts, my sweet Sango?" Miroku wonders aloud, unbuttoning the first clip of his school uniform for what must be comfort reasons.

I observe silently as Sango twiddles with one of her side bangs, avoiding his eyes as he undoes the clip and even letting the endearment slide. "I'm pretty sure he said something about getting supplies…," she mumbles with a blush, taking a short sip of her tea. It's still warm, so she cups it in her palms as she continues. "I don't even know where Ookami is—probably womanizing, like a certain someone we know." She turns to me, smiling politely, missing the way Miroku's grin finally wavers for the first time. I internally wince, feeling some sympathy for the guy, but Sango remains clueless as she insists gently, "Please, Kagome-sama, do tell us about yourself."

I blink once, then blink again at her formality, especially the high honorific. "What?" I say blankly, feeling a bit like Yue-Laou is telling me all over again about that damned quota that didn't exist until recently. What's there to tell about myself? Also, why is a teenager speaking so formally when she just shamelessly bonked her soul mate on the head a few moments ago?

And then it hits me, the realization that Sango's not a teenager—but much older.

I can now see it in the way she holds her cup, gracefully and preciously as if she's been trained to do so in the girls' Home. Ec. class at my old school instead of the sort of clumsy way a younger woman would. Her fingers are long and slim, holding that elegance refined ladies usually do, and her neck and shoulders are perfectly sloped enough to her chest that you can tell she's finished puberty for good, and her body won't be making any changes anytime soon. Mostly, I can tell by her face, the sharpness of her eyes and how each feature is defined like she's had years to perfect the look.

As weird as it is to realize this, at this moment, she reminds me of Mama and Tsuyu.

For a few seconds, I'm a bit stunned not only because of the resemblance, but since I expected her to be my age, maybe even younger than that. Managing to recover, I stumble in my head, searching for the words and struggling to say something. "Oh, um…" Dammit. When was the last time I had an actual conversation with a woman outside of my family and school, especially when that woman knew the horrors of death? It's easy to talk to girls who don't know that you've seen horrible things because then you just pretend to be normal, like everybody else—but just being your usual jyaki-slaying self? That's more difficult than you'd think. "I'm not sure what to say," I admit, my mouth twisting in a small frown. "What has Miroku told you?"

As if my awkwardness isn't an issue at all, she takes another sip of tea. "He's told me about how you're new in town, attending his high school, you saved him in the alleyway two days ago, and how your skill exceeded his own, especially with an enemy we've been tracking for months and one you've probably had no experience with," Sango informs me all in one breath.

Mind. Officially. Blown.

In confirmation to the "no experience" part, I nod slowly, and when I give Miroku an odd look for claiming I'm better than him, he explains with a genuine smile, "I'm honest, not stupid, Lady Kagome. I'm not afraid to admit when someone is more talented than me." Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he continues, "Of course, in the good looks category, I exceed everyone except San—"

"So," Sango cuts in, her face a tomato when she smacks him upside the head, and I briefly question if Yue-Laou's officially gone on crack. "After he gave me a detailed report of your combat with Mistress Centipede, I wanted to see if you could help us with a few cases."

Automatically catching on that Sango must be team leader of this unit—especially with that serious business voice—and recruiting me as that fifth member they must need, I cut in. "Oh, no," I say before she can go any further. They turn toward me questioningly, and I shake my head violently. "No, no, no, no, no. No. I work alone. No help whatsoever. I repeat: A-L-O-N-E."

"That spells alone," Miroku tells her jokingly, still trying to play comedian, and I furrow my eyebrows at his comment. Was that supposed to be funny? He quickly shrugs it off with a grin, though I notice he scoots a foot away from our little triangle, which is still not enough distance to escape Sango's governing fist.

As he's rubbing his cheek again, now hissing a bit in pain, Sango turns to me, this time her eyes more stern. "Why do you work alone?" she inquires. She doesn't sound angry that I've turned down her implications at cooperation—just honestly confused or curious as to why I wouldn't want to be a part of the team.

"Why wouldn't I work alone?" I counter back, raising an eyebrow. "Hunting evil yuurei and youkai is a personal commitment I've made; I'm not interested in being part of a society and spending the rest of my life doing this."

"You mean you've never been part of a society?" she asks, astounded as she finally sets down her tea.

I follow suit, though I really, really liked the tea. "Not exactly," I tell her, thinking back to the nameless faces who'd taught me hand-to-hand combat and treated me as if I were one of their own. "I've stumbled across a few, obtained free weapons and training in Kyoto, and have been associated with some, but I've never exactly joined one. I've always done solo work: obtaining cases from gossip, newspapers, reports, police—"

"Police?" both Sango and Miroku echo, sounding curious.

…Shit.

Mentally berating myself for that lapse of stupidity, I clarify, "I used to listen in on the Kyoto Chief of Police's conversations with other policemen on killings for an even bigger scoop." Sango's expression now turned from astonishment to pure awe, I add hurriedly in order to avoid any misunderstandings, "I mean, I planted a bug in his office so I could hear—"

Wait, that didn't sound better.

Dammit…!

How stupid am I, really? Just because you can trust slayers with information doesn't mean you should reveal everything. One more strike, and I'm out of here.

"Nobunaga Keibu?" Miroku finally speaks up, and I about die on the spot. "You mean the leader of the Open-Heart Case that was solved just recently thanks to a mystery woman?"

"Hold on," Sango says, getting excited. "You're the mystery woman, aren't you?"

It's official: I'm out.

I'm such a bad, bad yougisha. I should leave while I can. Just rush out the door, out of this city, and never look back. I mean, I could always sick Inuyasha on them if he ever goes into that weird full-demon phase again…

How I wish.

"Oh, wow," Sango murmurs as Miroku whistles in dismay. "I'm guessing that's the reason you moved here from Kyoto? To avoid the police?"

I nod slowly, regretting not getting enough sleep to at least maintain my cover, much less letting my façade down and letting these taijiya know. Even though slayers would never rat each other out, putting such a large risk out there where people could realize we exist is not praised at all.

This is why when Sango's face now radiates total admiration, I feel I'm missing some very important, key detail.

"You… Oh, wow," she says again, her cheeks turning red for some reason. "People have been trying to track down the murderer of that case for months. Did you know that?"

"Probably not," Miroku mutters good-humoredly as he puts his cup to his lips, then narrowly avoids being whacked with an empty tea pot, courtesy of Sango.

Automatically steering back to our original topic, she continues as if he hadn't said anything at all. "You're more advanced than our organization, maybe even others combined. You took down Mistress Centipede on your first try, defeated—Kotatsu Jukeisha, was it?—and you could've taken down the possible water demons at the pond near Midoriko High School for all we know."

…No comment.

"If you won't join our team," Sango says, excited stars in her eyes, "can we at least share cases and work together on a few things, for the sake of Tokyo?"

It doesn't take me long to answer, but I still think about it. I see the sharp teeth imbedding themselves in Miroku's sides again, I remember the tears my stomach has been through this past week (and the horrifying sights it's had to endure), I recall the kappa hanging me upside down beside a corpse, and I remember the amber sunset that may or may not have existed. And most importantly, I look down at blank pinky fingers and practically see Mama's obliviously happy smile radiating with warmth before everything faded to white.

"Sure," I answer, feeling just a bit better than my original sleepy self. "Why not."

Sango beams, and in turn, Miroku smiles as well—and it's now I can see the bond they have, despite the seemingly constant physical abuse and age difference. She overreacts to every little thing he does, but from the blushes I saw earlier, she enjoys it. Miroku doesn't seem to mind being hit, but being called perverted was a sore spot for him. So… I perk up, ideas coming into mind. Maybe there is hope for this couple after all?

"Now, first of all," Sango begins, oblivious to my musings, leaning forward and resting her face in her hands, "I want to hear everything and every little detail about your resources, your missions, and your techniques—everything—starting with how you solved the Open-Heart Case…"

Looking up at the ceiling and praying for mercy, I sigh tiredly. This is going to be a long afternoon…

/~\*/~\*/~\*/~\*/~\

"Yariman, huh?" Sango says, voice a little more than pissed. "At least you kicked him and his gang in the ass for that." I nod and go along with this since I'd already made a pact to not reveal the truth about last night—that I'd met some taijiya who may or may not have been a yuurei—as to avoid any future complications.

With grief in his eyes for the first time since I've met him, Miroku comments, "I'd heard reports that Hojo-kun's murder was unusual, but we didn't have enough evidence nor insight to make the case a top priority, much less investigate the scene." I frown, wondering what other cases they've possibly avoided when he explains tiredly, "Right now, we're trying to track down a serial killer who may as well be a demon and inspecting the supposedly haunted Himuro Mansion; our hands are a tad too full."

"Ah," I say, understanding that a society would be more concerned with the "big stuff" rather than the small demons who will only catch one or two victims. I sip my tea despite it being cold from the time that's passed and declare, "Well, I actually got a lead last night on a new mission. Feudal Antiques, on the eastern side of town—ever heard of it?"

Briefly and barely noticeable, Miroku and Sango's eyes meet, both revealing their surprise at my mentioning the store. Seemingly curious and stunned, Miroku says, slowly at first, "Yes; to support the Shikon Five financially, since you're not exactly paid to slay youkai, our antique shop is literally an antique shop. We have to make an actual living somehow, after all."

"Do you do business with them, or are they competition?" I ask, turning my total attention to them and ignoring my amazing tea after it begins leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I can only conclude it's fantastic when warm—and then gets sort of crappy when cold.

"They're business partners," the spiritual of the two tells me, then furrows his eyebrows as he grows concerned. "What's the lead about?"

I tell them straightforwardly, "The store keepers' daughter has been asleep for two weeks with her eyes open."

Miroku whistles in astonishment, and Sango's eyes widen, incredulous. "I remember meeting their young daughter, Hitomi-chan, from when we first became affiliates," the prior says. "Sounds like it could be a youkai of some sort, possibly a possessed relic in her room," he suggests, unconsciously assuming it to be a demon's doing, his being a taijiya rather than a youkaihanta. His eyes lift up to meet mine, and he asks considerately, "Do you need the address, Lady Kagome?"

"Yes, please," I say, appreciating his willingness to help.

He sits up, presumably to go write down the location of Feudal Antiques for me, but before he can, Sango shouts, "No! I got this!" and takes out a pen and piece of paper from underneath the table.

Miroku and I stare in surprise as she scribbles it down before handing it over. Noticing our expressions, she narrows her eyes and snaps, "What?" as if we're personally offending her. Very out of character for a lady, but then again, most women don't go around killing off evil monsters, either.

Miroku shakes his head and looks away, an amused and adoring smile on his face while I glance away, suddenly realizing how even though that was strange, it was a bit rude to gawk. Since she's apparently my biggest fan alongside Souta, Sango asks if we could meet later during this week or month—whichever—and to just talk to Miroku at school if I want to come back to their headquarters. Though it's odd to see someone older than myself looking up to me, I agree to these terms, and without interrogating them back, leave their headquarters, deciding to save my questions for another time.

I thought it was going to be a long afternoon, and it was. It was very, very long.

I groan once the door shuts behind me, preventing Miroku and Sango's waving figures from going after me. I would say it looked like I just escaped hell and I'd never be going back again, but considering I just promised to help them solve cases, I'll be seeing them a lot more now.

After establishing a system with the two Shikon Five members and brushing off my school uniform as if I just crawled out from under a fence, I walk down the street with the slip of paper in my hand, crumbled up by my fist. If I'd expected to get such an early lead on this new case, I probably would've brought some change for the subway to take me to the eastern side of the district. However, since I'm practically broke—especially while I'm unemployed—I'm stuck walking to the address Sango gave me. And if I'm lucky, the unemployment part will change and I'll hear back from Tenseiga Hospital about being a nurse under unregistered filing.

Since it's late afternoon, the sun is beginning to wane slightly, but not enough to cause that Tokyo sunset I observed from Goshinboku yesterday. Some businesses, such as a masseuse's and bookstore, are already closing up, and restaurants are taking in early customers for dinner. A few students from this side of the district are heading home, just having gotten out of school, and matching skirts sway in the slight breeze as a group of uniformed girls pass me, giving me a peek before walking on. I'm still wearing my own uniform, and I'm sure if attending schools further away wasn't so common, they'd be wondering why I was in their territory. Adjusting my yellow backpack and giving them one last look, I kick up my heels and venture further into the grooves of the street, looking for the store that's my destination.

"Where the fucking hell are you going, wench?"

I about jump out of my penny loafers. "HOLY—!" Oh, wait; it's just the inu-hanyou haunting my family shrine.

I feel so much better now.

And just in case you don't know, that was seriously heavy sarcasm just now.

"Why in the hells are you here?" I mutter none too gently, though keeping my voice low as to avoid receiving weird looks for talking to air. "And why aren't you keeping Shippou company?"

Inuyasha huffs, crossing his arms as he walks at an equal pace right beside me. "I just came back from terrorizing your science teachers and classmates," he answers quite bluntly, and I briefly pray for the poor souls who dealt with him today during the Science Club meeting. "Figured I'd sniff you out and just see what the fuck you were doing."

"Language," I warn him as I sidestep little kids laughing as they pass by. I know it's the billionth time he's said it in my presence, but really? He didn't even sound annoyed in that sentence. You at least have to have an excuse to use such explicit language.

…I'm probably a huge hypocrite now. Oh, well. Worse has happened.

Inuyasha huffs, mumbling, "You've said fuck before, too, dumbass."

"But not in a such a public place," I whisper, rolling my eyes slightly as I continue looking for the address. Damn. You think after five centuries of being surrounded by people, he would somewhat catch onto what's appropriate for what times. Who cares if only I can see and hear him? That doesn't make it right to go on cursing sprees on the street.

Expectedly, Inuyasha ignores me, instead approaching me and looking over my shoulder, as if trying to follow my line of sight. I step away, not liking the invasion of my personal space, and he automatically follows like the lost puppy he is.

Haha. Puns.

"Do you mind?" I hiss, swatting him off, pretending not to notice a passing mother and her child look at me in bemusement. Figures I'd be stuck with a bipolar hanyou who can't leave me be in public.

"What?" he snaps back, probably completely clueless as to why I'm frustrated. "I'm just trying to see why you're looking all over the place, wench. You lookin' for demons or somethin'?"

"Yes, actually," I say in my normal voice, this time receiving an odd look from an ice cream vendor and his young client. Cursing myself, I lower my tone. "Well, sort of. I got a tip from a local slayer"—who somehow disappeared the moment you were about to meet him, I don't add—"that there's a girl on this side of town who's been asleep for two weeks."

"Keh," Inuyasha says, "it's called being dead."

Really now? C'mon. I give him a blank look. "She's breathing."

He stops in his tracks for a moment before recovering. "Keh, it's called a coma."

Though I'm impressed that Feudal Hanyou knows that word, my face becomes even blanker, if possible. "Her eyes are open; they won't shut."

And finally, he gets it. "…Are you fucking serious?" This time, I take his cursing in stride and nod as a response. He blinks, his arms finally uncrossing as he ruffles his silver bangs, possibly thinking it over. "Could be a yuurei who's got unfinished business with her, uh, eyes," he suggests in a mutter, and I wince from how bad that came out. But hey, at least he's thinking of the cause instead of going on about how I'm a "FUCKING MIKO WHO CAN'T BE TRUSTED BLAH BLAH BLAH".

In the end, I outwardly shrug in response to his suggestion. I'd rather see the situation for myself before drawing any conclusions as to how this has happened.

A moment of silence passes over us, not too uncomfortable but not feeling so natural, either. It's only when I see the store that I break it. "We're here," I whisper, looking at the old and worn sign before glancing at Inuyasha, who's stiffened and seems to be standing alert. With narrowed, cautious eyes, he takes in the building structure made out of bricks with small, dusty glass windows while I enter the corner store, not bothering to leave the heavy door open for him since he can walk through it anyway.

A bell signals our arrival through the doorway, and a middle-aged woman looks up from the register. Despite her peppered and graying hair, her face doesn't have that many wrinkles, so she must be around forty—which exceeds my original expectation of some old coot. "Good evening," the woman greets us in a friendly voice, a smile easily appearing as she straightens up before patting at her apron. "May I help you?"

"Yes," I say smoothly, having played this part before: concerned acquaintance, but not prying. Caring, but genuinely curious. Acting's a big part of solving my cases, and ranging from being my own bait to gathering more information on the matter, I have different roles to play in the theater of the demonic and undead. Making sure to soften my eyes, show my worry, I ask timidly in a genuinely grounded voice, "Would you happen to be Hitomi's mother?"

Inuyasha sneezes from behind me, and I nearly jump again from the sudden intrusion to my psyche. While a blank look crosses over the store owner's face and her eyes fade from my question, as if retreating into her mind for answers, I quickly glare at Inuyasha, who in turn points at all the dusty shelves like they'd framed him. I turn back before the woman answers, her tone defensive, guarded, though her hesitancy and thin lips show me she's still unsure about whether she should trust me on the matter or not. "Why, yes; I would be. Who wants to know?"

"Higurashi Kagome, Midoriko High third-year," I answer, bowing in respect before my fibs begin. "My brother goes to school with your daughter, and he's been worried since she hasn't been in class. Since my brother had soccer club after school, I thought I'd come by and visit for him—and see if her reason for not being there was anything serious."

This must seem like a justifiable excuse to her because her tense shoulders loosen, and her lips turn upward in a grin once more. "Oh my," she says, perking up as if she were caught being a bad host. "In that case, please come to the back, Higurashi-san; make yourself comfortable while I make us some tea." She smiles, unaware as she leads us to her living room what my real intentions are.

I peel off my shoes at the entrance while Inuyasha goes ahead, his stride making me think he thinks he owns the place before he takes a seat on the worn-looking couch. I roll my eyes, but don't comment as I take a spot across from him on the sofa.

Another moment of silence has passed, and according to how slowly Hitomi's mother is making the tea, she must be planning to perform a more formal ceremony than I did with Sango and Miroku. I briefly ponder the silence's existence, since—before today—the only times there's ever been quiet moments between us is when a sunset and long staring contest took place. Tired of staring at the beige, stained, and fading walls of the family's obviously old store and apartment, I glance at Inuyasha, remembering last night when he seemed even more bipolar than usual. The stupidity in his voice as he yelled at me, the immaturity in his stance as he approached me, the worry in his eyes as he checked me for injuries, the warmth from his skin on mine…

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Gaze unfocused, I blink rapidly, wondering if I really did just think that. I did, didn't I? Man—my train of thought just took a turn for the weirder.

"Oi!" His voice snaps me back into reality, where I'm not berating myself for even thinking of last night, and Inuyasha's glowering at me with those damned honey eyes, the permanent grimace on his face as always. "What the hell are you looking at, wench?" he snaps as if I've done him physical harm.

I roll my eyes. "Pff, with that kind of attitude, I wasn't looking at anything," I mutter, and receive a heated glare in return. Gah, it's not like I care about what he thinks of me anyway. The guy randomly goes from bipolar to hypocritical, if you think about it—hating a miko one day, actually being concerned for her the next. He shouldn't even be following me around right now, much less today and my first day at school. His eyes burning into mine for a moment, I keep my stance even when they randomly soften and he opens his mouth—

"Here's the tea!" the woman calls, and we're snapped out of our glaring contest. I briefly thank Kami for the intrusion, glad we were stopped before a human-to-air argument ensued, whereas Inuyasha glowers at her as well—why, though, I have no idea. At this point, I'm going to really try not to question it. She slowly pours me a cup, handing it over before taking her own. After I take a few sips, she says genuinely, "My name is Kazuko, and I apologize for greeting you so coldly at the doorway. It's just…a local newspaper heard about Hitomi, and they've been bothering us ever since."

Oh, please, ma'am. Don't apologize to me when I'm about to probably go youkaihanta in your household. "It's fine, Kazuko-san," I reassure her, grinning. I don't bonk her on the head for not seeking help like I promised Kohaku, given that she seems jumpy as it is. I stand up from the couch, about to set down my tea as I tell her, "I respect people's privacy, so if my being here bothers you even slightly, I will leave at this moment."

I'm in mid-stance when Inuyasha yells in shock, "WENCH!" his jaw practically hitting the floor. I merely look at him innocently. What?

"Oh, no!" Hitomi's mother rushes out, nearly falling out of her chair. "You're fine," she insists with flushed cheeks and a smile, "you're fine."

Win your hostess over with your respect and manners: Check.

"Alright then," I say, suppressing a smirk when my plan begins working out. Inuyasha merely huffs, crosses his arms, and leans back, shielding his eyes from the world while he probably takes a short nap (or tries to show his disinterest, which is obviously fake). I retake my seat, reclaiming my cup as I meet her eyes, trying to convey my concern and trust in my experience. "Why have reporters been interested in Hitomi's disappearance from school, anyway? It's not unusual for kids to not go to school; what makes this case so special?"

Everything seems to fall silent in the room. I remain patient as Kazuko fiddles with her fingers unconsciously, not meeting my eyes when her body stiffens. In a way, I don't mind waiting for an answer; interviewees tend to give more useful, elongated information when you give them time to respond.

While she's silent, I investigate the area without her knowing by trying to detect any youki or jyaki in the area other than Inuyasha's. I don't find any, however, meaning it can't possibly be a demon doing this to Hitomi. Now knowing we're dealing with a yuurei or some other supernatural force, I focus my gaze again on the woman's face and how she's slowly becoming sure of what she should say.

"My daughter…isn't sick, but something is wrong with her," she confesses, her eyes lifting from the tea set. "She's been asleep ever since her boyfriend died…"

Inuyasha perks up immediately, dog ears alert as his eyes snap open, and my senses sharpen while my attention heightens. Boyfriend, eh?

"Makoto-kun was a nice boy, very high-class and always giving her gifts, and I know my daughter loved him dearly… But ever since he passed away, she's been asleep—but not this normal sleep, like she refuses to get up and stop grieving. Her eyes are open, as if she's awake—but when I first tried to wake her up, nothing happened. When I couldn't get a response out of her, I checked her pulse—but she was fine, warm, alive." Kazuko closes her eyes for a short moment, breathing steadily as I lean forward, entranced by what I'm being told. "I was worried, but since my husband claimed it to be a youkai and began seeking an exorcist to seek out the item possessed, I was more concerned with getting food and water to my daughter. But…

"The moment I stepped through the door after the first day, I was attacked."

"Attacked…?" Inuyasha mutters as he regards her with furrowed brows before turning to me. "Think the spirit is malevolent?"

I give a small, almost unnoticeable shrug, focusing more on Hitomi's mother than my hanyou neighbor at the moment.

"I'd walk in with a bowl of water to slide down her throat when her books would race towards me in midair, as if trying to chase me away from the room. And for the life of me, with my daughter's porcelain doll collection in there, I was so afraid she'd lose something precious that I didn't bother entering again. My husband tried a few times and came out barely scathed. At that point, I just gathered our thinnest plates and slid those underneath her door in hopes she'd get the nutrition she needed."

"Have you checked on her at all?" I wonder in a murmur, honestly concerned for the poor girl.

She nods. "Every day, I peek in through the door crack, just to see her chest fall and know she's alright. But if the exorcists from a nearby shrine couldn't do anything…what can we?"

And it's the pure hopelessness and heartbreak in her voice that silences me, stopping any oncoming questions I'd thought of before. She faces towards a window, and I stare at the tea cup in my hands as if it's foreign, imagining how I'd feel in her situation while trying to put together the small pieces of information we'd gathered. Then, with as much strength as I can muster, I ask, "May I see her?"

She jumps as if she's struck by lightning. "You… I don't want you hurt, Higurashi-san."

"I'll be fine," I assure her, managing a comforting smile, "and I will help your daughter, Kazuko-san. I promise to bring her back to normal."

Her eyes widen, and she lets out an "O-oh!" She approaches me, her eyes flickering to a door nearby that is probably Hitomi's. "You really don't have to, Higurashi-san—it's dangerous, and it's nothing you should concern yourself with."

I turn to her, raising an eyebrow. But it is, I think before turning the knob and entering her daughter's room.

The moment Inuyasha and I are inside and shut the door behind us against Kazuko's protest, a shiver runs down my back as I spot a boy Souta's age with stylish brown hair and piercing eyes. However, he doesn't look at me as much as he does Inuyasha. And when he takes in the red suikan kamishimo, dog ears, white hair, and golden eyes—

"YOU'RE NOT HUMAN!"

We've been seemingly getting this reaction from a lot of ghosts lately. Hm.

Inuyasha growls, but I block him off as I consider the kid with stern eyes. When dealing with ghosts, it's best to be as gentle and rational as possible; do not hit any sore spots, do not throw any implications, and do not treat them like a villain. You need to sympathize, negotiate, and calm down the souls, not rile them up by making a stupid move. "You wouldn't happen to be Makoto-kun, would you?"

He glares at me silently, his gaze returning to Inuyasha and staying there as he scoots towards a girl with wavy, shoulder-length hair who I presume to be Hitomi. I silently note how he obviously doesn't have a red string, but Hitomi's is leading to outside, meaning she and Makoto were never meant to be together in the first place, before looking back at her again. Her eyes are blank, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment, I find myself entranced. Even when they're void of conscious, they're the kind that captivate your total attention.

"She has pretty eyes."

Oops. Did I say that?

The bookshelves rattle, making me jump and Inuyasha growl. A new fire raging in his eyes, Makoto snaps, "You have no right—!"

"Shut the fuck up and let your girlfriend go!" Inuyasha interrupts, possibly frowning even more deeply than before. The kid cringes, the demands extinguishing the blaze to a single candle, and I finally realize he's intimidated by Inuyasha rather than me.

Whoa.

Though it's a bit of an insult, I take it in stride as I step in front of Inuyasha, pushing him behind me. Ignoring the half-demon's incredulous look, I soften my gaze and whisper, "Makoto-kun, why are you still here on Earth?"

He actually seems a bit stunned I asked when he reels back, blinking rapidly and not meeting my eyes. I feel the room grow just a bit warmer, leading me to believe this won't be so bad after all. "I…I…" He gulps. "I never got to tell her…"

"What?" I question, stepping forward. "What did you never get to tell Hitomi-chan, Makoto-kun?"

His eyes snap towards me, and I freeze by the pure hate in them, feeling the atmosphere of the room quickly turn from tense waves to dark electricity, icicles practically growing on the windows from the chills I'm getting. "How dare you speak her name!" he screams, and I reel back from the force whereas Inuyasha steps forward, probably to calm him down. "Don't you dare come closer!" the kid yells, his eyes blackening.

I shield my face when a vase breaks, shards shooting out in all directions, one scraping my cheek and sending me to the floor from surprise. Wincing from the sting, I force out as kindly as possible, "Makoto-kun—"

Then I stop myself as I witness a pissed-off Inuyasha bonking the kid on the head in a similar fashion to a certain kitsune, and my mind reaches a blank.

Makoto repeats, "Ow ow ow ow—" as Inuyasha wails on him, and I'm left wondering how all the malice in the room has practically vanished and been replaced by pouting…just by beating on a kid like you would another.

Inuyasha picks up the kid by the tuff and observes him carefully, as if searching for any signs of resistance. "Keh," he mutters, throwing Makoto my way and making me cringe from the rough handling. "Apologize to her."

…apologize to me? "Eh?"

While I'm in shock Inuyasha would even consider that, Makoto bows quickly, pretty much groveling in front of my fallen form. "I'm s-sorry, onee-san," he forces out, shaken by Inuyasha's earlier treatment as said hanyou's foot begins to push onto his head, as if demanding further apology.

I blink. Well, that's another way to subdue a ghost.

I force myself to a sitting position, pushing off Inuyasha's foot and letting Makoto sit up again. "You're fine, Makoto-kun," I reassure him with a smile. "I just want to help you be happy." Even though I'm clueless to what he wants.

He nods unsteadily, then asks, "Am I in trouble?"

I resist another grin. "Of course not," I reassure him. "But I am going to visit you tomorrow, so could you be on your best behavior until then?"

Makoto hesitates, eyeing me warily, and I even see Inuyasha have trouble figuring out my intentions. "Alright," he promises under the hanyou's gaze, and I ruffle his hair in a sisterly fashion before standing up and exiting the room.

The store owner is twisting her hands in her apron, and by her tense body language, I know she overhead me addressing Makoto. With a resigned sigh, I meet Kazuko's questioning eyes, and she asks, "You're not the sister of one of Hitomi's classmates, are you?"

I look away. Damn. "Probably not," I confess, since for all I know, Souta could be in Hitomi's class.

It grows silent for a moment, and then she inquires, "You're coming back?"

"Yes," I answer. "Tomorrow, to be exact. I just need to gather a plan of what to do to help your daughter without bringing harm to her at the same time."

Kazuko nods. "Be careful," she tells me.

I smile reassuringly. "Always."

The moment the door chimes behind us, Inuyasha turns to me, one eyebrow raised and with a slight smirk on his face. "You are one scheming bitch," he comments, actually sounding impressed.

Ha. Guess he caught onto what I'm doing. "Part of the job description," I reply with a devious grin before walking ahead of him. I have to be conniving, anyway, for a difficult case like this.

Because, if not handled well, a ghost emotionally attached to a human being is the most dangerous one there is.

A/N: There you go. :| The longest chapter of SoulMate yet, 9,000 words and over 20 pages long— *fingers fall off* OH MY GOD. You're welcome.

I'm hoping to update SoulMate every Tuesday now, and next is Chapter 10: "A Sight for Sore Eyes"! Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ^.^