Journey 1986 Chapter 1, an inuyasha fanfic

"Journey 1986" - An Inuyasha Fanfiction

This is a work of fiction, names, locations and the like are *mostly* made up for entertainment purposes only. Any likenesses to people, places, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Authors Note: This work is an amalgamation of various AU fanfiction scenarios I've had played out in my head for probably a decade. At the time I was writing three different fanfictions, one semi-successful but I ultimately burned out on the plot as I had a lot of strife happen in my life that I'd rather not talk about, I attempted to re-write that particular fan-fiction twice and subsequently burned out twice. However, I'm determined to finish at least one fanfiction because this fandom has always been there to support me and now that I'm mentally in a much better place, I decided to take the best elements of my three previous works from multiple fandoms and combine them to make this a love letter to everything that makes me happy, an ultimate dopamine project, if you must. So if you like retro 80s settings, buddy cop pairings, slow burn romance subplots, stoner humor, eventual smut, and paranormal fantasy. This fic may not be what you asked for but exactly what you need. Party on, dude.

Prologue: Sight Beyond Sight Unseen.

Long ago, in a time when the Earth was new. Humans and ethereal beings coexisted. It would be a lie to proclaim that this time was harmonious. Some may have even called this time a Hell on Earth. Otherworldly beings resorted to trickery and saw the humans nothing more as playthings to manipulate. Whether it be a deity that demanded worship at an altar, or a primal winged beast that simply needed to feed, to be human was to be lesser. Hunted prey, second class to beings that were not only ethereally beautiful but could also be pulled directly from the deepest fears of one's subconscious. This subjugation of humanity went on for thousands of years and as the fair folk of the East and West rejoiced in their control and power of the inferior humans, they began to get cocky. The humans, sensing the hubris from their otherworldly neighbors began to revolt in the only way they knew how: By using their wits. In place of magic and mysticism, science and technology began to prosper and by the Industrial Age, the numbers of fair folk all but disappeared while the humans advanced further. Thus the veil between the two worlds that once coexisted was raised and the once proud fair folk were exiled from the very realm that they inhabited for millennia. Humans continued to prosper, advancing their race at an alarming rate. Tales of the once feared and worshiped deities and creatures were regarded as no more than myths and fairy tales meant to pacify unruly children, or to become a hyperfixation for the paranoid. Humans as a whole lost the ability to communicate beyond the veil and the once proud fair folk, angels, demons, elves, faerie, dragons, and youkai: among many other such beings could only observe humanity through the lens of otherworld and netherworld. However, not all choose to stay in their dimensions, instead opting to use cloaking as a way to slip in unnoticed in the human world: Masking as everyday humans in a society that long since abandoned them. Despite the ability to cloak, there are some beings that have no qualms about showing their true forms.

Very few humans can see the denizens from the other side and are able to interact with Earth's lost beings. You may know these people as witches, warlocks, sorcerers, magi, mystics, and in modernity: psychics and mediums. Often misunderstood as heretics and crackpots. It is these gifted few that manage to keep the balance in check. The seers, those able to see sight beyond sight.

Chapter 1 – Gift or Curse?

San Diego, California, 1978

"Ow." The eleven year old boy with the shaggy, jet-black hair winced in pain, holding the makeshift Ziploc baggie ice pack to his swollen eye. Patiently, he waited for the principal to arrive in the small, stuffy, room. As he adjusted the baggie on his eye, the girl next to him spoke. "Looks like someone whomped you real good, huh?"

Miroku paused for a minute. Funny, he didn't recall seeing another student enter the room but nevertheless, he was kind of relieved that he wouldn't be the only one getting his ass chewed out. He glanced at the girl, she was about his age and wearing a blue plaid jumper style dress with a white button up shirt underneath, her strawberry blonde hair plaited in neat pigtails that rested below her shoulders with two matching satin bows in the same shade of blue as her dress. Kind of old-fashioned but nevertheless, very cute.

"I'm Hannah by the way." The girl introduced herself.

"Miroku." Miroku said, returning the formality. "What are you in here for, Hannah? Its rare to see a cute girl in Pritchard's office."

Nervous, the girl tucked one of her braids behind her ear as if it was the first time a boy had ever called her cute. Her cheeks flushed pink as she began to stammer. "I didn't get in trouble. I'm just waiting to see my dad."

"I see." Miroku replied as he reached into his backpack to grab the spiral notebook that he frequently doodled in during earth science. Quickly, he began to sketch out the rough outlines of a face. Soon, he felt Hannah lean in over his shoulder. For some unexplained reason, her skin was cold, and not the clammy kind of cold but the 'left the freezer door' open too long cold. Though the cold sensation was strange, the boy shrugged it off while he continued to doodle in the notebook.

"Whatcha doing?" Hannah asked with curiosity.

"Sketching." Miroku responded.

"You're pretty good at drawing. Is that why the bullies pick on you?"

Miroku gave the girl a side-eyed glance, followed by a self-assured smirk. "Look, I'm not some wimpy sensitive artist type if that's what you're implying. They beat me up because they're sore losers. I'm more of a lover than a fighter."

"Lover, huh? Have you even kissed a girl before?"

"Plenty of times." Miroku boasted. "Only cute girls though."

"You know, I wouldn't mind it." Hannah blushed, twirling the end of her pigtail around her finger. "You did say I was cute."

"Mind what?" Miroku asked, genuinely confused at the direction their conversation was going.

"Kissing me of course."

"Okay, if you insist." Miroku sat his notebook aside as he moved his face closer to Hannah's. There was a brief pause before his lips met hers and he felt the same strange cold sensation from her lips. He pulled back.

"How was that? Pretty good huh?" he asked, self satisfied.

"Hmm.." Hannah responded. "I'd definitely say you're one of the better boys I've kissed."

"How many others are there!?" Miroku responded, amazed that a girl might've beat him in the kiss department.

"I've seen you on the blacktop, you know." Hannah continued, changing the subject. "You're always playing card games. I'm willing to bet you got your butt whooped because you swindled whoever gave you that shiner by using five aces in one deck. Am I correct?"

Setting the pencil down for a brief second, Miroku's eyes widened at Hannah's observation. How on earth did she know his trick when he kept it a close-guarded secret. "How did you...know."

He didn't understand how but the chair that Hannah was sitting in was now empty. Perhaps she saw her dad in the office while he was focused on his drawing.

It was then that the door creaked open and the imposing, yet portly, figure of Leonard Pritchard, the principal at J.L. Lewis Middle School entered the cramped room, wriggling himself behind his huge burled walnut desk with a cup of coffee from the teacher's lounge in one hand and a glazed donut in the other. A wheeze escaped his lips as he sank into his leather executive chair.

"What is it that you've done this time, Miroku? You're in my office so much that I might as well charge you rent."

"It's not my fault! Larry Benson beat me up at lunch because he's psycho! If you ask me that kid needs to be committed to a padded room."

Miroku watched as Mr. Pritchard dunked the last of the donut into the souvenir Palm Springs coffee cup on his desk, lips smacking as the remaining crumbs stuck to the end of his bristle-brush shaped mustache.

"Is that so? Well, I heard you took twenty dollars from Larry and then you were seen jumping the fence to the high school. What exactly was so important that you not only needed to rip off a fellow classmate but skip out on 5th period?"

"KISS tickets." Miroku muttered under his breath.

"You're gonna have to speak up, Miroku."

"KISS tickets, alright! I know a guy at Buchanan High who flips tickets and he told me he could get me in if I was willing to pay the finder's fee. Come on Mr. Pritchard, its a sold-out show. Cut me some slack!"

"You know I had to call your parents again, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Miroku crossed his arms. "Mom's going to be pissed though. She still hasn't forgotten about the broken violin either."

"And why was the violin broken again?"

"Because I was goofing off in orchestra and thought I could be like Pete Townshend of The Who." Miroku responded with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"I spoke to your orchestra teacher, Mr. Little, after the incident and he says you have real talent with the violin, Miroku. But you're too reckless."

"I just don't like the violin, ok?" Miroku huffed under his breath, not noticing the notebook in his lap fall to the ground, pages splayed open on the drawing that he'd just completed.

"What's this?" Mr Pritchard remarked, picking up the notebook. His face went pale when he saw the drawing in the notebook. "Hannah." he muttered under his breath.

"Something wrong, Mr. Pritchard?" Miroku asked, confused at the sudden shift in mood in the room.

"Where did you get this?"

"I drew it." Miroku responded. "Its a portrait of that Hannah girl that was waiting here for her dad right before you came in."

"That's impossible." Mr. Pritchard said.

"What's so impossible about a student waiting for her father to pick her up?" Miroku asked.

"I'm Hannah Pritchard's father. She died fifteen years ago today."

"Fuck." Miroku muttered under his breath.

"Hey, hey. Watch the language!" Mr Pritchard scolded the preteen. "No cussing in my office!"

"Mr. Pritchard you don't understand. She was here, just like you and me she touched my arm. I even kissed her!" Miroku's eyes widened in disbelief, realizing what that meant.

"Holy shit, I kissed a ghost. I kissed a ghost.." Miroku muttered twice under his breath.

"You WHAT?!" Mr. Pritchard yelled. Miroku noticed his ears begin to turn a bright shade of red. "My Hannah?! Hoshino! You...little fiend! If I wasn't an esteemed educator I'd.."

"You'd what, Mr. Pritchard?" A male voice with a heavy Japanese accent asked. Miroku gulped, realizing that his father had arrived to the principal's office instead of his mother.

"I've suspended your boy for two days, Hoshino!"

"Are you not going to let him explain to us what he did wrong?"

"GET. YOUR. SON. OUT. OF. MY. SIGHT."Mr Pritchard furiously gritted through his teeth.

On the way home, Miroku sat in the back of the Volvo station wagon, hand resting underneath his chin as he looked out the window.

"You've really done it this time, Miroku." Miroku's father, Kyo, spoke. His voice echoing over the smooth jazz coming from the station wagon's stereo. "Stealing, skipping class, FIGHTING? What is wrong with you? Are you trying to put me in an early grave?!"

Miroku rolled his eyes. "Maybe its lack of parental guidance. But what would you know, you're always at work." The boy replied in a dry tone.

"Watch your mouth. I work so much so that I'm able to provide for our family. You, your mom, your sister."

"I don't have a sister anymore, remember. Rin is my niece."

"She is your sister. Miroku. End of discussion."

Miroku sighed, continuing to look out the window.

"Oyaji, It happened again." Miroku spoke up.

"What happened again?"

"I saw another spirit. A girl about my age. Mr. Pritchard's dead daughter, Hannah."

The car came to a screeching halt as Kyo Hoshino slammed on the breaks almost missing the red light at the intersection.

"Again with this, Miroku? What have I told you about the spirits."

"To never mention any visions around you and mom. I am normal, and that's enough -But dad, the contact is increasing! I think I'm starting to see more than human spirits. The other day I was at the park and I saw something that looked like a gobli..."

"ENOUGH, Miroku!" Kyo yelled. "Do not speak anything of this, ever. Understand?"

"Not very Buddhist of you to disrespect the spirits like that." The young boy muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Kyo snarled.

"Ugh, it was nothing." Miroku rolled his eyes. "I'll be quiet now."

Miroku returned to being entertained through the window. However, his sight-seeing was interrupted when he felt something or someone tap him on the shoulder. He glanced over to see Hannah Pritchard sitting next to him, her cheeks still luminously pink. "Hi again, lover boy!"

"Hannah? What are you doing here?" Miroku whispered as low as possible as not to tip his dad off that he was not only seeing but talking to a ghost.

"I just came by to say thanks...and to apologize for the lie I told you."

"What lie?"

"You actually were my first kiss. Thank you, Miroku." She said, but not before giving Miroku a ghostly peck on the cheek.

In an instant, Hannah's spirit vanished once again and Miroku was left alone for the remainder of the car ride home.

Eight Years Later...

Nineteen year old Miroku Hoshino always wondered what the back of a police cruiser looked like but he didn't expect it to be quite like this. Funny, he imagined it would smell more like vomit and piss. Either way, he was fucked with a capital F. Why did he have to follow the guys' lead and come to this spot of all places to skate and drink? He knew he was going to get caught doing something stupid once Jimmy brought out the grocery bag of spray paint but he tagged up the overpass anyways. Why did he even bother to leave his bed on his day off? Just because Stony said over the phone that he'd invited some girls for the band to have fun with? That liar, there were never any girls. Just the four of them, sitting there waiting. Doing the same shit they could've done in the garage without the risk of getting arrested. Sad thing was despite all of this, Miroku was practically sober. At least if he got shit-faced, it may have been worth his while, somewhat.

Outside of the police cruiser belonging to Portillo Beach P.D., the officer on duty shone his flashlight into the window where Miroku was handcuffed.

"Don't even think of trying anything stupid while I start the vehicle."

The officer jostled his way into the driver's seat but not before crushing the half empty beer can with the heel of his boot. Miroku gulped as he heard the fizz of the alcohol seep from the can. He couldn't help but think the fate of the beer can would be him later once his dad got a hold of him. Fidgeting, he tried not to focus on the officer driving the car. The cop was on the hefty side but he had enough muscle that, it wouldn't take the man but a split second to pin a teenager to the ground if needed.

"I take it you weren't alone." The officer spoke.

"No." Miroku responded. "I was with friends but they left."

"Well, they certainly sold your ass up the river. Talk about some shit luck."

Miroku didn't reply as the officer started the cruiser. At this point, unlucky might as well have been his middle name if his parents bothered to give him one in the first place.

The drive to the station felt like it took an eternity as Miroku looked on at the assorted businesses and neon lights emanating from the boardwalk of the beach outside. Once his fingerprints were set and mugshot taken, Miroku sat in a quiet jail cell for hours with a homeless man who was blacked out drunk when another cellmate came to the forefront. Unlike the emaciated white drunk passed out on one of the beds, this man was tall, black, and built like a stone pillar. He stood silent, dressed in a hip-hop style with a velour windbreaker, baggy track pants, and an LA Lakers snapback hat. By the look in his eyes, he wasn't ready to deal with any kind of shit from the young man with the paint-stained hands. Miroku took another look at the guy, something seemed off about him. Something inhuman. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. This man was possessed. But by what?

"Show yourself!" Miroku goaded the unknown entity living in the stranger. He could feel the earth move beneath him as the man transformed into a tall creature with imposing, mantis-like claws and two heads, one of a horned wraith and the other of a short pig-snouted reptile. The demon's upper body was muscular but the lower body was gangly with knobby knees and large clawed feet like a chicken.

"Ku..ku..ku..So, the puny mortal can see me." The creature laughed in a shrill but echoing voice. "You may have the sight, human but you are no match for me."

Miroku did not cower, instead he brought himself to a fighting stance. "You're a demon aren't you? State your name and your business on the Earthly Plane."

"Xythraxis, of the 4th circle of Hell, and I don't need to explain myself to a human. I took this man and devoured his deliciously rotten soul. It was absolutely splendid. So much blood spilled over greed, so much hatred."

"Get out." Miroku commanded.

The demon stood in shock. "Are you commanding me, The Mighty Xythraxis, mortal?"

"You heard me, get out." Miroku repeated himself. "I despise weak, lesser demons like you."

"LESSER DEMON?! I'll show you lesser demon, arrogant mortal!" Within a split second, Xythraxis lunged at Miroku. Quickly, the teenager dodged the demon's attack. "I really didn't want to deal with demons today, but if you won't go back from where you came then I'll have no choice but to punish you!" Miroku spoke in between breaths, dodging the demon's ferocious claws. Xythraxis was faster than he looked but with the right timing, he could get the demon stunned with a paper talisman. Quickly, Miroku ducked his head, avoiding the serrated edge of one of the claws. However, in the midst of ducking and dodging, Miroku's body carelessly lost its footing and he ended up trapped by Xythraxis on the cold jail cell floor.

"Perhaps I'll take your body instead. You shall be my new puppet, warlock!" The demon laughed as his grip around Miroku's upper body tightened, lifting the teenager off the ground to pin to the wall. The edge of the claws sank into Miroku's skin, puncturing his chest, thankfully, they weren't as long as he previously thought. Otherwise, he'd be in serious trouble. The claw dug deeper into his skin as Xythraxis began to attempt to perform a demonic takeover, only to be thwarted by a plume of smoke engulfing the claw holding Miroku hostage as the magically charged amethyst crystal Miroku kept tucked under his shirt collar for protection emitted a radiant glow, setting the evil creature's claw ablaze.

"My Claw! Damn you! You'll pay for that!" The demon screeched in a high pitch, dropping Miroku to the ground with a hard thud.

"I'm not done yet!" Miroku grunted as he reached into the inner pocket of his denim vest and pulled a stack of paper talismans. Quickly, he chanted an incantation, as he ran from Xythraxis, trying to find a good opening. "Gotcha!" Miroku exclaimed when the demon left his back wide open. Mana-charged talismans flew with a flick of the wrist from the young warlock. Within seconds, the demon was stunned by the bright blue flames and his corporeal form began to disintegrate into a pile of goo from the mana emitting from the barrage of talismans. "This isn't over, warlock!" Xythraxis yelled in a garbled voice, the goop puddle disappearing into the netherworld below. leaving only the husk of the human host's body behind. A Loud 'whoosh' rang in Miroku's ears as the soul comet that Xythraxis had eaten returned to the unconscious man below. Miroku internally winced thinking of how painful it would be for the once possessed man to wake up after God knows how long Xythraxis had control over his body.

Exhausted and bloody, Miroku leaned against the cold stone wall in the jail cell. He rubbed his gloved right hand against one of the deeper gashes at his collarbone. "Fuck, that Xythraxis son of a bitch got me good." he muttered under his breath. "Any deeper than the flesh wound and I'd have to go to the ER for sure."

Miroku grimaced in pain again. "Ugh, I'm bleeding all over my battle jacket. This is going to be an absolute bitch to get out." He groaned, noticing the blood all over the lapel and chest of his beloved article of clothing.

Not even two minutes of rest later, Miroku's ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps approaching him.

"Hoshino. You're free to go. Your father is waiting for you in the...lobby." the officer trailed off upon noticing the puddle of fresh blood pooled under Miroku's feet from the punctures on his collarbone and upper chest.

The officer spoke into the communicator in his hand. "Hey, get Rodriguez down here, we're gonna need a first aid kit pronto."

After being patched up to the best of the precinct's ability, Miroku was led to the lobby by another police officer. The name 'D. Sato' gleamed off the officer's brass nametag. Miroku nervously gulped, knowing that the officer was Japanese like himself, meant that he probably had a good talk with the old man beforehand. He felt his hands go sweaty at the thought of facing his father. Miroku and the cop passed the break room where another, younger, cop leaned against the doorway with a paper coffee cup in his hand.

"Another punk kid, Dan? Man, you never seem to catch a break these days. Jesus, man what happened to the guy, he's all covered in blood? What the hell did you do to him?"

Officer Sato glared at the other cop. "I didn't do anything to him, Collins. He came out of the cell like this."

Miroku walked into the lobby of the police station, Kyo Hoshino sat in one of the chairs, arms folded with a look in his eyes that was somewhere between, 'I'm gonna murder you when we get home' and 'Son, you have failed me.'

Miroku could only sigh some more. This was going to be a long night.

80's Mix Tape: Track 1

Judas Priest – Breaking The Law