#constitution? i am a sickly little animal

[waitineedaname]

I am the world's most unbalanced dnd character. All my stats are in charisma and intelligence and nothing else

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.” 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[multiplefandomfics]

The First

chapter 2

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x OFC!Jemima

Warnings: fighting, accidents, torture, loss of time, angst

Words: 1343

Last time: Until one fateful summer a terrible fate struck Jemima… 

That time Jemima had made it all the way to Novigrad and got notice of a Gryphon terrorizing merchants on their way in and out of the city. Jemima had already dealt with one of those astonishing creatures before so she took the opportunity to make good coin. 

That was a mistake as it turned out.

The Gryphon lived high up on a cliff in a cave overlooking half the town of Novigrad and all the merchant routes on land and water. 

The climb was a bitch although Jemima was more focused with the elixir running through her veins. 20 metres up a vertical stone wall with heavy swords attached to one's back was hard even for a witcher. 

After she had managed to ascent to the Gryphons cave the creature was already waiting for her in a way she did not expect. There wasn’t one, but two of them and the beast gave her one hard kick to the chest, she lost her balance and fell 20 metres down without a chance to catch the fall somewhere. It felt like she hovered over the ground for hours until the impact . Jemima landed hard on her back crushing the scabbard of the sword into her spine. 

Then she lost consciousness. 

When she woke up she didn’t know where she was or how much time had passed. The only thing she felt was that overwhelming soreness in her back and neck. She did a quick exam, wriggling her feet and rolling her shoulders as much as that was possible while lying down. Then she opened her eyes and figured out that she was in a light flooded room lying on soft sheets on a bed. That still didn’t answer the question where the hell she was. 

She turned her head to the furthest way in the corner and tried to sit up. Although she quickly notices she couldn’t. Some form of invisible power held her down. And then she heard a voice. 

“Don’t exhaust yourself. It won’t work anyways.” Jemima was able to locate the voice and her gaze fell on a beautiful woman with long reddish brown hair, high cheekbones and dark purple colored eyes. Jemima knew what she was and thus her looks were most likely deceiving her. The sorceress who didn’t look older than 35 was probably more like 10 times that age. 

“Where am I? What do you want from me? And are the Gryphons still alive?” Jemima asked. 

“We are in a small village a few miles north of Novigrad along the coast. I find you most interesting and I want to study you to find out what makes you so special that you survived the Trial of Grasses. It is a mystery to me and the whole Chapter but they are too nice to just kidnap you and do tests. I know exactly how the Trial works and what the mutations do to a human body and I have absolutely no idea how a female body could have survived that.” And I took care of the Gryphons. Any more questions?” She smiled sickly sweet. 

“No, just a threat! If you don’t let me out of here this minute, I will have your head faster than you can say autopsy!” Jemima gritted through her teeth. 

“Oh, that’s sweet but that won’t happen. Now sleep and I’ll see you when you wake up:” and those were the last words Jemima heard before she lost consciousness again. 

The enchantress immediately started her work, casting spells, scanning Jemima’s bloodstream and organs. After finding nothing physically special with her she proceeded to her psychic constitution. Her Aura was strong, pulsing brightly red. Lightning shooting through it occasionally. The sorceress had never seen anything like it before and decided to fully emerge into Jemima’s consciousness. That was her mistake. 

Jemima woke up groggy and unfocused. After opening her eyes she noticed that she was still in the same room she had been in last time. Only this time the drapes were shredded to pieces, the mirror on the wall splintered and dust lay on every surface at least 5cm thick. 

“Hmm this is strange.” she muttered to herself while sitting up. 

She took a closer look around as if expecting the witch to be standing somewhere in a corner, ready to attack. But she wasn’t. Jemia was completely alone. Only her clothes were lying on a chair next to the door and her sword leaning against the wall. 

Jemima hurried on wobbly legs to get dressed and out of the house. A few minutes later Jemima stood on an empty street and it surprisingly was already autumn. Every building looked run down and as if there hadn’t been people there in forever. No animals in the stables, no horses. Nothing. 

The witcher girl had to walk. She managed the way back to Novigrad where she asked a peasant what year it was. The answer made her want to puke. 50 years had passed. She had been asleep for half a century. 

After she had recovered from the first shock she bought a horse from her last coin which she strangely still possessed and started her way home to Kaer Morhen.

The ride was long and when she arrived in the far north the first snow had already fallen. 

She found the hidden trail without any trouble and soon rode over the bridge and toward the entrance gate. After she dismounted she felt his presence before she saw him. 

“Jemima? Can it really be you? That's impossible! We thought you were dead for decades.” Lambert whispered unbelievingly. 

“You’re seeing right. It is me. But before I tell you my story here and now I’d rather tell it once to all of you together. Would you mind letting me in to warm myself?” Jemima asked.

“Of course. Go inside I’ll take your horse.” he suddenly stepped forward and hugged her close “it’s good to have you back, kiddo.” Jemima rolled her eyes at the nickname but let Lambert take her mare to the stables. 

Jemima pushed the large doors open and walked toward the great hall. It was dinner time so there were five more people sitting at a long table. One of whom Jemima would have recognized anywhere. “Lambert, who was at the gate? Was it finally Triss?” Vesemir asked loudly. “No uncle Vesemir. It was me.” Suddenly all eyes were on the female witcher. 

“Jem? How?” Geralt slowly got up and walked toward her. In his eyes shone something. Had she not known better she would have thought he was shedding tears. 

The moment he was close enough Geralt threw his arms around her embracing her strongly. He seemed to never want to let go of her. 

“What happened to you? I hoped everyday for 5 decades to see you again but it got harder to believe the longer you remained missing.” he murmured into her hair. 

“I missed you too grumpy guy. If you let go of me for a second I could tell you what I know has happened.” she patted his back lovingly and he let go of her.

Then Jamima took a deep breath, drank some ale offered to her and started telling them the story of how a hunt for a Gryphon turned into a longtime coma. 

“And what happened to that witch?” Suddenly a little ashen haired girl in clothes which didn’t really fit her wanted to know.

“I don’t know. She was just gone when I woke up. Must have lost interest in me or something. And who might you be, little warrior?” Jemima asked the girl. She looked over to Geralt to look for reassurance and he nodded. “I am Ciri. The lion cub of Cintra. Pleased to meet you.” she smiled broadly and Jemima now in turn had a few questions to ask.

chapter 3

[neraawritesxx]

anime: Inuyasha pairing: Sesshomaru x Kagome genre: Drama/Romance words: 7,562 status: Ongoing

summary:  [au] ‘I vow to you today and a thousand times over that I will never let you leave my side.’ The man to whom she was vowing eternal love was supposed to be her husband, not her brother-in-law.

preview: “Kagome's brows drew down into a frown, curious as to what Sango was trying to tell her. It wasn't long before she heard it; though it was so quiet that Kagome wasn't sure she heard anything. 

It happened twice more before she realized exactly what she was hearing. There was a telltale sound of something or – rather – someone moving around in her personal bathroom, followed by a soft, childish giggle.

Well, that wasn't something you heard every day.”

previous chapter

this work could also be found on ff.net

"You should have seen them Sango," Kagome wailed in frustration.

The brunette in question tried her best to simultaneously listen to her best friend vent and maintain her attention on the road in front of them.

"They went on and on about me not being proper enough to run the company!" The petite woman growled. "And then one of them mentioned my father! If I could, I would have squished that little urchin's head with my bare hands and…and…GAH!"

Anger boiling over, Kagome shrieked as coherent thought left her, hands running through her black tresses furiously. She tossed her head back against the headrest of the seat, lips pinching into a thin frown while sapphire eyes closed. A handful of silent seconds passed before her hands stopped raking through her hair; one falling limply into her lap while the other came to pinch the bridge of her nose.

For a moment, Kagome struggled to breathe. It felt like someone was slowly tightening their grip around the base of her neck.

Eventually, she was able to release a small, shaking breath out of her nose.

"Hey," Sango called. "Calm down, would you? Don't have a panic attack on me. Deep breaths sweetheart."

Kagome grunted in return, but headed her best friend's advice, greedily gulping in air through parted lips. Only when her head seemed to stopped spinning did she finally open her eyes. The hand that was applying pressure to the bridge of her nose moved to her temple and slowly began to rub circles in an attempt to ease her headache.

"Not even a full two weeks on the job and I threatened the board, Sango," Kagome declared, defeated.

"So?" Sango rebuked, unphased by the information. "How quickly you seem to forget that it's partially your company. You can do whatever you want."

Kagome took her friend's reprimand with a grain of salt, the hand that was soothing her head falling to join its twin in her lap. "I've never forgotten that," Kagome rebuffed. "I just prefer not to be remembered as the woman who started an all-out war with the board after only being with the company for a few days."

The fingers on her right hand began to twist and tug at her wedding band idly. It was an odd habit Kagome happened picked up over the last few days, but for some reason, the cold metal seemed to soothe her nerves.

"…Again, I reiterate…So?" Sango queried. "There's nothing wrong with striking a little fear into their hearts. It shows that you won't take things lightly and…it kind of makes you look like a badass."

Cobalt hues rolled towards the ceiling of the car at her friend's choice of words, but she couldn't hide the small smile that began to play on her lips.

"Leave it to you to make a joke out of this," Kagome chided.

"I'm not making it out to be a joke," Sango corrected. "But, I do know that you're blowing this entire thing out of proportion. You haven't done anything wrong and there is absolutely no reason for you to be freaking out. Those men attacked you and instead of choosing to take it, you stood up for yourself. That sounds a very Kagome-like thing to do if you were to ask me."

The car was silent for a small moment before Kagome sighed, off-put.

"You're right," the raven-haired woman reluctantly admitted. "How do you always end up being right?"

Chocolate orbs slanted in her direction, their edges crinkled with mirth. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? Listen to you your elders because we are always right."

Kagome scoffed in response. "Sango, you are only three months older than I am. That hardly constitutes as you being considered my elder."

"Three months, or three days, it doesn't matter. I'm still older than you," The taller woman reiterated, ending her statement in a sing-song voice.

Choosing not to fall for her friend's bait, Kagome just clicked her tongue releasing a small 'tch' noise. There had been plenty of petty squabbles throughout the years over their minuscule age difference. For some reason, it seemed Sango always ended up winning a majority of those arguments, mostly because it was, in fact, a true statement, but that didn't stop Kagome from trying to bring Sango down a few notches. Now was neither the time nor the place, however. Today had been exciting enough for Kagome and the dispute was not worth the effort or the continued headache.

Instead, she chose to change the topic of conversation to something that would take the spotlight off of her misadventures.

"So," The petite woman started, feigning nonchalance. "I saw Miroku at the office the other day."

"You don't say," Sango responded, attempting to appear unperturbed by the news.

Kagome knew better, however.

The hands that were gripping the steering wheel were gradually turning white-knuckled, the leather underneath giving an audible cry with the strain. "And what did our resident letcher have to say?"

"The darndest thing really," Kagome disclosed in a sickly-sweet voice. "Our dear Miroku was under the impression that you are mad at him." The younger woman shifted in her seat so that her upper body turned towards Sango, fierce sapphire eyes taking in every reaction.

Unlike Kagome, Sango was well versed in hiding her emotions – all except one. Anger was something that Sango had never been able to keep hidden, even when they were kids. Despite her best efforts, fury never failed to make the smile lines around brunette's mouth more prominent, and there was always an unmistakable twitch in her right eyebrow.

"I have no idea why he would think that," Sango ground out.

"Really?" Kagome inquired, unconvinced. "See, I thought he might have been on to something. He's been avoiding me like the plague over the last couple of days and the only reason I could come up with as to why he would do that is because he doesn't want to run into you."

Sango quickly recognized that she was being backed into a corner and chose to not to respond to Kagome's subtle accusation.

Undeterred by the other woman's silence, Kagome remained steadfast, eyes narrowing at her best friend. Internally, she hoped to garner some type of explanation from her. It wasn't like Sango to carry on like this when it came to Miroku – or anyone really.

Usually, when she was agitated, Sango chose to ignore Miroku for a day or two, a week at most. Two weeks had to have been a new record. It only further proved that whatever reason Sango was upset with Miroku for, it was increadibly important to her. It was unsettling to realize that the dark-haired woman cut Kagome off from explaining her actions for this long. It wasn't like the Sango not to share what she was thinking or feeling – especially about that pervert with the wandering hands – but Kagome was currently at a loss. Sango was headstrong – potentially more so than she was – and her choosing to remain tight-lipped, even now, meant that Kagome had to pull something drastic to get the other woman to talk.

The blue-eyed woman sat back in her seat with a huff. Recalling her conversation with Miroku from earlier the week before, Kagome took a guess as to what she thought the issue was. It was worth a shot.

"Honestly Sango, he did what I asked him to do. You know you have no right to be mad at him about the wedding."

There was another prolonged silence. Kagome unabatingly awaited some type of reaction to her enticement.

When she received none, she tried again.

"If you're going to continue angry about this, then you might as well be mad at me too," Kagome declared. "I'm the one who stood there and let him carry on with the ceremony."

At her words, the hands on the steering wheel twitched.

Hook.

"And we both know that the only reason why you're taking this out on him more so than anyone else is that you're still upset about that botched date you two had a few months back."

This time, the chestnut-haired woman's entire body flinched.

Line.

"I told him to call and talk to you, by the way. I said that you were looking to apologize," Kagome finished, casually turning to look out the window.

That little bit of information seemed to work.

"You did what?!" Sango screeched, turning her head to glare at the smaller woman.

Sinker.

"Hey! Eyes on the road!" Kagome scolded. "Okay, so that last part was a bit of a lie. I did tell him to call you, but not because you wanted to say you're sorry."

Sango's rising ire seemed to somewhat deflate at the clarification. There was another pregnant pause where neither woman in the car spoke, but the silence broke, it was Sango who chose to speak first.

"I'm not mad at him, per say," She started, her tone signaling that her frustration was still simmering underneath the surface. "But he is partially responsible for everything that happened."

Kagome made a motion to interrupt, but Sango cut her off before she could. "Inuyasha left Kagome. He left. And instead of doing something about it, Miroku went along with the entire ceremony like nothing ever happened."

"That's because I told him to and you know it," Kagome tried to justify.

"No," Sango said shaking her head, a scowl marring her features. "No. He could have stopped you or talked you out of it if he really wanted to. I've known you for years Kagome, and I know you're stubborn, but you're not that stubborn. If he were really looking out for you, as a friend, he would have never let you go through with this."

"He let me go through with this because it was what I wanted, Sango," Kagome stated softly. She wasn't looking to fight over this. "He respected my wishes and I wished to go through with the wedding. Who was he to stop me?"

"And that's another thing!" The brown-eyed woman exclaimed. "How could you have wanted to go through with this?"

'Ah,' Kagome thought. 'So that's why she is so upset.'

"Sango," Kagome remarked in a somber voice. "I needed to go through with this. It wasn't just for me to decide." Sango gave an unladylike snort at the explanation, but Kagome chose to ignore it and continued on. "It was what Papa wanted and I couldn't just throw everything he worked for away. I was not going to give up his company. I will not give it up."

Once again, Kagome found herself underneath the scrutiny of dark eyes. Sango looked more confused than agitated, thin brows drawn down into a frown that wrinkled her forehead. For a while she merely studied Kagome from the corner of her eye, flicking her gaze between her best friend and the road.

"Your father wouldn't have wanted you to be married to a man you hardly know," Sango stated tersely without looking at her. "The Higurashi-san that I know would have called off the wedding as soon as he found out his daughter was left at the altar."

A gentle smile lit up Kagome's face. There was a flash of memories awakened by the mention of her father and Kagome welcomed these with open arms. The images filled with her mother's love and her father's child-like spirit were a soothing balm over the tension caused by the day's events.

"You're right," Kagome stated, amused. "He would have caused a scene right there in the church and called the entire thing off. I could only imagine the argument that would have broken out between himself and Touga." Despite the somber topic of conversation, Kagome couldn't help but release a small chuckle at the thought.

Kagome's giggle was enough to relax Sango's stiff posture partially. There was still a rigidness in the brunette's shoulder's that hinted she wasn't about to let this discussion drop.

"I'm just worried," Sango remarked. "It's one thing to have an arraigned marriage to a friend. It's a completely different matter to have an arranged marriage to a stranger."

Kagome frowned at the statement. "Sesshomaru wasn't…or rather, isn't a stranger. He wasn't a friend, that I will agree with, but, it wasn't like I didn't know who he was. We were…acquaintances?" It was more of a question than an explanation and it came as no surprise that Sango didn't believe a word of it.

Before the dark-haired woman could formulate another retort, Kagome continued. "He's trying, Sango."

At the disbelieving raise of both of Sango's eyebrows, Kagome smirked slightly. "I'm serious. He's been nothing but supportive in both the office and at home."

The relationship between herself and Sesshomaru – if she could even call it such – was still new, but over the last few days, he indulged Kagome on her whims. She tried to understand Sesshomaru like he was a difficult subject in school and, it seemed in turn, he was trying to do the same. Kagome was grateful for their dinners together, even more so for the unique interactions they shared. Instead of leaving her to her own devices once they left the office, Sesshomaru chose to ease her through the transition into his home.

It was overwhelming to note that there were no bonds, no lengths, no depths of any relationship between the two preceding their marriage; there were no pressures that would sway them one way or another or biases that were influencing them getting to know each other. It left them to build and create a life that was all their own.

They may not have been friends, but there was trust, and that was the foundation for something.

Kagome knew that anything romantic would most likely never occur between the two of them, but it was nice to have someone that understood where she was coming from. A partner in every sense of the word; someone who had the same circumstances thrust upon them. Sesshomaru was a new stability in her life and Kagome found herself quickly becoming accustomed to him.

Even if her marriage would provide nothing but a house and a companion, Kagome was content with her choice. It was more than what she thought she would be graced with the day that Sesshomaru joined her at the altar.

"I trust him," Kagome confessed, voicing the words that she had been previously processing. "He's a good man, Sango and…," The younger woman trailed off for a moment, trying to come up with the proper wording that could express exactly how she felt. "I'm actually happy it turned out the way it did."

That seemed to appease Sango more than anything Kagome had said previously. The tension in her shoulders finally died out.

"I'm still worried," Sango repeated in a mumbled tone.

Instead of responding, Kagome reached across the expanse of the car and yanked on a forelock of her friend's hair.

"Ouch!" The taller woman yelled.

"None of that," Kagome scolded. "I'm not mad at you Sango and I hope that you're not mad at me. I know you're worried about me and I am so grateful for that, but I'm honestly okay."

Sango smacked away the hand that was still lightly pulling on her hair. "I don't know why I waste my time worrying about you. You could be lying in a hospital bed bleeding to death and you would still tell me not to be concerned about it."

"You make it sound like that's such a bad quality to have," Kagome quipped.

The response to her comment was a soft sigh before silence encompassed the car once more.

"You really should call him," Kagome murmured after a moment. "He may be a little 'hands on' in certain situations, but Miroku doesn't deserve you being mad at him for no reason. He did seem genuinely troubled that you're not speaking to him."

Sango didn't look in Kagome's direction when she grunted her affirmation. "We'll see."

Kagome knew that whether Sango agreed outright or not, she was most likely going to call Miroku and apologize for her misguided anger.

The small victory over her friend made Kagome smile.

-o-

The remainder of the car ride passed with little conflict. The remaining time was filled with mindless chatter on different things that had occurred in both women's lives over the past week. Sango currently worked for a technology company which specialized in processors for computers. At the news of the Higurashi Tech. and Taisho Inc. merger, Sango's boss asked her to contact someone at the company with the proposition of formulating a contact.

"He's young, but he's smart," The other woman commented offhandedly as the car pulled up the gravel driveway of Sesshomaru's home. "He has two vice presidents who are most likely going to be involved. Their group is very close-knit, but I think it would be worth looking over."

Kagome nodded absently in affirmation, taking note that there was a car in the driveway she didn't immediately recognize. At the lack of a verbal reply, Sango turned her head in Kagome's direction before following her line of sight.

"Whose car is that?" She questioned as their own vehicle rolled to a stop behind the black town car which resided in the middle of the path.

"I'm not entirely sure," Kagome mumbled. "I've seen that car before; I just can't remember where."

They received the answer to their question the moment they both stepped out of the car. As Kagome's feet touched the broken stones which made up the driveway, the front door was tossed open to reveal Myouga and – much to Kagome's pleasant surprise – Izayoi Taisho.

"Izayoi!" Kagome called happily, scrambling up the porch steps in a flurry onyx hair. The older woman met her halfway, seemingly just as eager to greet her.

The two embraced in a tight hug that had Izayoi laughing from the delight it brought. "Well," Kagome's mother-in-law declared after they broke apart. "If that isn't one of the warmest welcomes I've ever received!"

Kagome smiled broadly, "It's good to see you."

And it was.

If there had been one person – besides her own mother – who checked on her most frequently since the wedding, it was Izayoi. Kagome may have spoken regularly with all of her friends, but both her mother and her new in-law were relentless in their need to call her under the guise of talking about senseless things. If she had to guess, Kagome assumed that both women were trying to gauge how she was faring from afar.

Suddenly having Izayoi standing before her was a welcomed change of pace of the strenuous day. Though they spoke often enough over the last couple of days, Kagome hadn't seen her mother-in-law since the wedding.

By now, Sango had joined both women on the deck, choosing to approach at a much slower pace than Kagome had.

"Izayoi-san," Sango greeted with a small inclination of her head.

Izayoi's soft brown eyes moved to regard Sango, her smile never wavering as she bowed her own welcoming acknowledgment. "It's good to see you again, Sango-san."

"Likewise," The younger woman reiterated with a grin.

Myouga, who had been oddly silent throughout the entire exchange, chose to make his presence known after the women finished their reception of one another.

"Touga-sama called to warn us that you both were coming," He said in the way of greeting.

Initially, Kagome thought it was odd that he hadn't received Sango or herself verbally and with a light tilt her head, Kagome regarded the older male with a puzzled expression. There was something about the wording Myouga used that seemed off.

Taking in his full appearance, Kagome realized that it wasn't just an immediate gut reaction. There was definitely something wrong with the short male as he stood there, ringing his hands mercilessly and looking in every direction…except he wouldn't look at her.

"He called…to warn you?" Kagome probed, her mind swirling with her perplexity at the odd behavior.

Myouga's spine stiffened at the question, black eyes urgently diverting to Izayoi before finally glancing in Kagome's direction.

"Erm…you see," He verbally stumbled, struggling to find the proper wording. "Lady Izayoi was here…um…"

As the elder male floundered, Kagome and Sango shared a quick, confused glance. Over the last two weeks, Kagome had learned at least one thing: Myouga was always calm and collected – even under Sesshomaru's intense perusal. It didn't matter the situation or who was speaking to him, Myouga never broke from character. For him to be this outwardly disturbed was an extremely unwelcomed sight.

"Touga called to warn me not to leave without seeing you," Izayoi said in a gentle voice, saving the Taisho's employee from further explanation. "It's been a while since I've seen you, he didn't want to me to miss out on the opportunity."

The abrupt answer mollified Kagome somewhat. "It has been a while," she agreed.

It wasn't long before another question arose. Kagome knew well enough that Sesshomaru and Izayoi interacted as little as possible. The notion of her mother-in-law physically being present at her stepson's home was another thing that seemed to be entirely out of character.

"I hope you don't feel that I'm being rude by asking," Kagome started her inquiry, turning to regard the Taisho matriarch once more. "But Izayoi, what are you doing here?"

It was now Izayoi's turn to tense, though the rigidness that encompassed her posture was much subtler than the uneasy waves that Myouga's posture emitted. With her shoulders pushed back and her stance suddenly straightened, Izayoi didn't hesitate in answering Kagome's question right away.

"Touga is looking for a copy of a file that he insists Sesshomaru took from him," The older woman explained with a chuckle that sounded a little too involuntary for Kagome's liking. "He requested that I snoop around for him while you all were in the board meeting. How did that go, by the way?"

Once again, Kagome accepted the explanation without a second thought, despite the peculiar behavior of the elders in front of her. At the sudden change in topic, the tension that seemed to have enveloped the group, released.

"Er…well," It was Kagome's turn to make a mess of her own commentary. "It was…lively."

At her daughter-in-law's unorthodox verbiage, Izayoi's curiosity peeked. It also didn't help Kagome's case that Sango rumbled something under her breathe, which gave the distinct impression that the word used to describe said meeting didn't do it justice.

"You don't say," Izayoi hummed with a distinct raise of her eyebrow. "Well, you have to tell me all about it!"

The older, dark-haired woman strode forward, planting herself between Sango and Kagome. Izayoi looped her arms through the younger women's, securing both of them by the elbow.

For someone almost thirty years their senior, Izayoi's grip was surprisingly firm.

"It would be a waste not to enjoy such a fine spring day," Izayoi stated, leading both of them towards the corner of the veranda, where the porch swing and wicker chairs resided. "Myouga can you go make us something to eat and some tea? You girls are probably famished."

"Right away, Lady Izayoi!" The steward called before ducking back into the house.

"We really don't have that much time Izayoi," Kagome commented, trying to halt their progress by digging in her heels. "We only came so Sango could see the room and have a quick bite to eat. Both of us need to get back to our offices soon."

Undeterred by the blatant rejection of her idea, Izayoi just smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Nonsense," she rebuffed, continuing to pull Kagome along. "Showing Sango-san the room wouldn't take more than a few minutes. Why don't you two relax for a bit? It'll be nice to have a little break before you have to head back to work."

"Thank you, Izayoi-san," Sango said, disentangling – how the hell did she make it look so easy? – herself from the older woman's grasp. "But, really were not staying long. I have to be back before my lunch break ends, so were most likely going to take our meals to go."

The hand that was still gripping Kagome tightened in reflex at the second unabashed snub, but after a short pause, Izayoi released her hold on her raven-haired daughter-in-law.

"Well," Izayoi stated, tersely. "We can't let you be late, now can we? Come, girls let's go see if Myouga can pack you up something for your ride back."

For the second time in the last few minutes, Sango and Kagome shared a puzzled glance as Izayoi briskly lead them back towards the front door. Sango tried to hold Kagome's gaze from the corner of her eye, silently asking her 'what the hell is going on?', but Kagome couldn't provide a proper answer. She didn't know what to tell Sango, let alone what to think herself.

If there were one word she could use to describe the way both Myouga and Izayoi were acting it would be unusual. She may not have known Myouga well, but Kagome had known Izayoi for years. She had never seen the dark-haired woman so forceful before.

As the trio entered the house, Izayoi didn't stop, making her way through the foyer and halfway down the corridor, passing the living room.

"Myouga?" She called out in a tone that seemed borderline overwrought.

Instead of coming out of the kitchen like they presumed that he would, Myouga appeared behind all three women, exiting the wing of the house that was designated to Sesshomaru and his personal rooms.

"Are you alright Myouga?" Kagome inquired, taking in her employee's appearance.

Myouga was always neat and orderly, but right now he looked a little worse for wear. His navy blue haori was untied while the white kosode he wore underneath happened to be untucked on the right side. His dark gray hakama looked unkempt; what was once pristine was now covered in creases, like he had been rolling around on the floor. Sweat beaded on his brow and his cheeks were flushed with red blotches from some unknown exertion. Kagome was sure that if he had more hair, it would be standing on end.

"I'm fine, Kagome," He assured, out of breath. "I was just looking for something in er…Lord Sesshomaru's office.

Kagome knew a lie when she heard one, but she chose not to push the subject, nodding dumbly as she acquiesced his answer.

"Maybe Souten or Shippo could help you?" She offered as a solution to whatever it was that seemed to be troubling him. "You seem to be having a bit of a difficult time."

"Ah well," The steward fidgeted, hastily pulling and tucking his clothing back into proper order. "They both are out grocery shopping this afternoon."

"Maybe Kagome and I could help you?" Sango offered good-naturedly. The brunette seemed just as off-put by the elder's behavior as Kagome was, but it didn't stop her from taking a step towards the entry to the corridor with the intention of lending a hand.

"No!" Izayoi all but shouted, cutting off Sango's path with her own body. "No, no need for you to concern yourself, Sango-san. Why don't I go see if I can find it for you Myouga?"

Without waiting for a response to her offer, Izayoi disappeared down the hallway in a whirlwind, leaving the two women to stare after her with twin expressions of shock. If Kagome thought her mother-in-law's behavior was odd before, she now felt Izayoi was acting downright bizarre.

"…Does she even know what you were looking for?" Kagome asked after a moment uncomfortable silence between the three people left standing in the main corridor.

"Yes, she does," Myouga stated, looking at the hallway which Izayoi fled down with – what Kagome could only make out as – beseeching eyes. "Why don't you two go to your room Kagome? I can bring your lunch shortly."

"Actually, why don't I help you put together our lunch?" Kagome questioned, attempting to shake off the uneasy feeling that was beginning to knot in her stomach. Perhaps the quicker she and Sango got out of the house, the faster they could put this entire situation behind them and things could return to the little sense of normalcy their lives had. "We're not going to stay here to eat; I just need to pack a few things up."

"There's no need," Myouga assured, shifting on his feet so that he was angled towards her. To Kagome, it looked like he was placing himself in such a way so that he would be able to cut off her path to the kitchen if need be. "I can handle it, I assure you."

Cobalt hues narrowed slightly. It was one thing for Myouga to be acting strangely, it was another for him to refuse her outright. Over the last two weeks, Kagome had made it well known to all the housing staff that she would not idly sit about. If she could lend a hand, then she would. Up until now, all three of Sesshomaru's employees had taken her friendly nature in stride.

"I know you can handle it," Kagome challenged, her tone showing that she was starting to become a little fed up with this entire endeavor. "It'll be quicker if I help you. We are on a time limit."

It wasn't like Myouga to fight back on much of anything. He was the type that wanted to please others, no matter the circumstance. In comparison to Souten and Shippo, Myouga always found something to do for either herself or Sesshomaru, and it was completed at a brisk pace. Even when she chose to lend a hand with the chores around the house, Myouga ran circles around Kagome. Never once did he deter her actions, however, and usually welcomed her assistance, no matter how clumsy it was.

To Kagome's continued surprise, Myouga chose to remain headstrong in his refusal on this current subject.

"No need," He said offhandedly. This time when shuffled his stance, there was no mistaking that he was, in fact, trying to stop Kagome from entering the kitchen. He inched slowly in front of her. "I'll do it myself."

Sango sensed the strain beginning to seep into the room, chocolate orbs hovering between Myouga and her best friend. Kagome may not have shared much about her life in Sesshomaru's home, but from the way that she was looking at the butler, Sango could tell that his actions were extremely uncharacteristic. As much as she would have enjoyed watching the battle of wills between employer and employee, this was not Sango's situation to get involved in. It was time for her to concede.

"Kagome," The brunette cut in. "I think I'll wait for you in your room. Let me know when you're ready to leave."

Kagome refused to remove her tightened gaze from the elder, but she gave Sango a slight nod of her head, letting her friend know that she heard her. After Sango disappeared from Kagome's peripheral vision, the petite woman took a bold step towards the kitchen. As she previously suspected, Kagome was met with a matching movement from Myouga as he stepped entirely in front of her, cutting off her progress.

"What are you doing Myouga?" Kagome questioned in a firm tone.

This behavior was so unlike the man that she had come to know over the couple of weeks that speculation swam in her mind. Just what was going on? Kagome tried to come up with a reason; anything that could explain why he was acting this way.

Her mind quickly fed on her insecurities, all thoughts growing toxic. Had she done something to upset Sesshomaru? Was he the one making both of them act like this? Sure, they hadn't spoken after the meeting, but he didn't seem upset with her, neither had Touga. The way Myouga was acting made it look like this was something personal; that whatever he and Izayoi were hiding had to do with her. There was a tightness settling in her chest at the thought, but Kagome tried to shake it off.

The old steward chose not to answer Kagome's question right away. Instead, beady black eyes broke from their locked gaze on her form and slid to glance at something over Kagome's shoulder.

Turning her head marginally, Kagome caught a glimpse of Izayoi who had joined them back in the hallway. Kagome's mother-in-law looked just as disheveled as Myouga had when he first exited that corridor. The older woman's pants filled the hall, chestnut eyes glancing to the steward with something akin to frantic apprehension.

"I couldn't find what you were looking for, Myouga," Izayoi said, fussing over the frayed hair that escaped the neat bun on the back of her head.

"What are you two looking for exactly?" Kagome asked, blue eyes alternating their narrowed stare between Myouga and Izayoi. "What is that you're both hiding? And why can't I go into the kitchen?"

Myouga chose to remain stubbornly silent, leaving the explanation to Izayoi, who in turn, tittered stiffly.

"We're not hiding anything, Kagome," Izayoi assured.

Kagome looked towards the inky-haired woman with something akin to distrust. "After all these years Izayoi, I can tell when you're lying. You use that same high-pitched tone when you're talking to one of Touga's competitors."

The words made her Izayoi flinch back as if she had been physically struck. Instead of folding under her daughter-in-law's accusation like Kagome hoped her would, Izayoi carried on feigning ignorance.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," She insisted in a cutting tone, her own brown eyes narrowing.

"Oh really?" Kagome deadpanned.

Without warning, Kagome spun on her heel and lunged forward, pushing passed Myouga. His stance gave way under the force of being caught off guard, Kagome's height advantage assisting her in barreling through the blockade the older male tried to exude. Fleetingly, Kagome felt a stab of guilt at handling Myouga in such a way, but she needed an explanation for all of the theatrics.

"Kagome, don't go in there!" Izayoi screeched.

It was too late; Kagome already crossed the threshold into the tiled room by the time the older raven-haired woman's exclamation had reached her ears. With the way that they were both acting, Kagome would have thought that there was some dangerous threat in the kitchen; someone or something that would cause her harm and all they were looking to do was protect her from harm.

Whatever the reason behind this entire ruse was, Kagome didn't find it in the kitchen. Instead, she found an empty, yet spotless room with absolutely nothing out of order.

Kagome rounded on the duo when she felt them come to a halt behind her. "Just what is going on?!"

Neither elder responded to her wailed inquiry as they both stood in the archway wearing to two matching expressions of dismay. Myouga's eyes were the largest Kagome had ever seen them, his eyebrows impossibly high on his forehead and Izayoi stood with a gaping expression on her face, her jaw unhinged.

"What on earth is the matter with the two of you?" Kagome questioned shrilly, clearly exasperated. She struggled with the urge to stomp her foot like a child.

Again, neither answered her. Izayoi turned toward Myouga, dark eyes boring into the side of his head. Onyx hues never strayed towards the older woman, however. They slowly perused the entirety of the kitchen, sweeping from one side of the room to another, calculating every detail; apparently looking for something that wasn't there.

Without preamble, Myouga scrambled to cross the threshold of the room, opening the sliding glass door with a loud 'snap' and disappearing out onto the patio.

"What the hell…?" Kagome muttered following the frantic path the older male created with her eyes. Confusion only gave way to full-fledged panic when Izayoi suddenly fled out onto the patio as well, her movements frenzied.

"Izayoi?" Kagome called after her, taking a small, tentative step towards the exit to the backyard. Dread seemed to consume her as she watched the two disappear into the gardens in the yard, hectic in their searching.

Kagome didn't make it very far. A quiet voice called out her name, halting her movements.

Turning, azure orbs found Sango standing demurely just outside of the archway that lead to the kitchen. Immediately, Kagome knew that something was wrong. Her friend's fair skin seemed to take on an ashen hue, dark eyes sunken. She was looking at Kagome, but she wasn't seeing. Sango had her arms wrapped around herself, but it wasn't a gesture of defiance or anger; Sango was holding herself up, providing her own comfort.

"Sango?" Kagome ventured, trepidation and worry stirring in her stomach. "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sango was silent, staring at her with a cryptic glint in her eyes. They settled into an uncomfortable silence for a long moment before Sango uncrossed her arms.

"You need to see this," Was all her best friend offered before Sango pivoted on her heels, making her way into the living room with stiff, awkward strides.

'What is going on in this house?' Kagome groaned mentally, following closely behind Sango.

The sudden change in the taller woman's attitude paired with the overwhelming dismay that Izayoi and Myouga were presenting, made Kagome extremely worried. Her hands restlessly twitched at her sides, unsure what she was to expect while the duo made their way through the sunken sitting room and into the hallway that lead to Kagome's room.

When they approached her bedroom door, Sango hesitated, turning her head to the side so that she could peer at Kagome. There was a maelstrom of emotions brewing in those dark depths; the most prominent being anticipation, worry, and pity. Without saying anything, Sango brought her index finger to her lips, signaling to Kagome to be silent as they continued their journey into her bedroom.

Instead of questioning her friend's motives, Kagome gave a curt nod of her head, slipping stealthily through the open bedroom door behind Sango. Upon Kagome's initial inspection of her bedroom, nothing seemed out of place. Souten must have cleaned the room earlier for the bed was remade and the white lacquered furniture, which had arrived that past weekend, had a natural shine to their surfaces.

It was only on the second surveillance of her bedroom did Kagome notice that both her closet and bathroom lights were on, doors tossed wide open. Sango stopped halfway across the carpeted floor, looking back at Kagome before gesturing towards the bathroom with a jerky motion of her chin.

Kagome's brows drew down into a frown, curious as to what Sango was trying to tell her. It wasn't long before she heard it; though it was so quiet that Kagome wasn't sure she heard anything. It happened twice more before she realized exactly what she was hearing. There was a telltale sound of something or – rather – someone moving around in her personal bathroom, followed by a soft, childish giggle.

Well, that wasn't something you heard every day.

Kagome's eyebrows shot up, only to disappear behind her bangs. Calmly, almost too calmly, she made her way towards the bathroom door. Making her way past the closet, sapphire hues took in the destruction that was once the neat and organized sub-room. A majority of her clothes were scattered across the floor, some in a nest-like pile thrown together in the middle of the room. Kagome stopped a few feet back from the entrance to the bathroom. It was far enough for her to be able to look at what was going on inside while simultaneously not intruding on what was going on inside.

The sight that greeted her was something that Kagome had not been expecting.

There, sprawled out on the white tiled floor of her bathroom, was a little girl who seemed to have made herself quite comfortable amongst Kagome's belongings. The child couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen, inky black hair flowing down her back, ending at her narrowed hips. Her bangs were pulled out of her face, pinned up into a side ponytail on the crown of her head. The way that the preteen was situated, Kagome couldn't make out the color of her eyes, but with the pale complexion of the girl's skin, Kagome assumed that they were most likely a smoky color. She was tiny, scrawny even, but it didn't look like it was because of mistreatment, it just seemed like she had a small build. In fact, judging by the designer sundress she was wearing, this little girl had someone wealthy taking very good care of her.

A pale blue make-up bag – that suspiciously looked like Kagome's – joined the little girl on the floor, carelessly tossed open. There were different cosmetic packages scattered across the floor; some open, some not. Currently, the young girl was holding one of Kagome's favorite eyeshadows up to her face for inspection.

"Oh!" She chirped, her voice childishly warm. "This is a beautiful color. I wonder if she wears it often."

Unsure of how to proceed, Kagome cleared her throat, taking one step towards the bathroom door. At the sound, little girl's head snapped up with a gasp and a flutter of onyx hair, dropping the eyeshadow cartridge. It clattered to the floor, but neither woman paid attention to it, both their lips parted in an unceremonious 'o' shape.

For the second time in her life, Kagome Higurashi found herself held captive by a unique pair of golden eyes.

They were more of a burnt copper than amber, a faded orange-red that was tarnished with flecks of gold gilt that lightened the overall color. They glistened as the light hit them, shock and fear evident in those tawny depths.

There was no question as to who this girl was related to.

"Oh," Kagome said, unintelligently.

The girl seemed to get over her initial shock of being caught, staring at the woman before her with wary foreboding.

"Grandma!" She suddenly wailed loudly, scrambling to stand.

"Grandma?" Sango parroted, appearing at Kagome's side instantly. Intense speculation filled the young girl's gaze at the arrival of a second woman, but before anyone could question anything, Izayoi rushed into the room, followed closely by a frenzied Myouga.

"Rin!" Her mother-in-law cried, bee-lining for the bathroom door. Izayoi didn't spare the older women a second glance, her eyes solely for the little girl.

Izayoi knelt down in front of her granddaughter, grasping her by the shoulders with both of her hands.

"Thank god," The Taisho matriarch sighed in relief, pulling the small body towards her own in a tight embrace. "I thought I told you to stay in your room. You had Myouga and I scared sick, we couldn't find you!"

The pre-teen squirmed out of her grandmother's hold, looking slightly abashed. She fidgeted for a moment, gnawing on her bottom lip while her hands fumbled awkwardly in front of her.

"I know, Grandma," The tiny voice murmured. "I just wanted to look around a bit! To see some things so I can know what she's like!"

The innocent explanation seemed to appease Izayoi because she suddenly sighed, her body slumping with the exhale. She didn't stay like that long, however. The older woman happened to suddenly remember who was among the silent audience watching the small display.

Slowly, tentatively, Izayoi turned towards Sango and Kagome, her eyes explicitly honing in her daughter-in-law.

"Now, Kagome…" Izayoi started, moving to stand. Whatever she was going to say was cut off when the young girl – Rin – turned to eye both women no longer with fear, but with hopeful enthusiasm.

"Kagome?" Rin repeated, golden gaze flickering between both women pausing only to quickly appraise both Sango and Kagome from head to toe individually.

Turning back to her grandmother, the girl asked, "You mean one of these ladies is her? One of them is the woman who married Papa?"

"Papa!?" Sango screeched causing everyone in the room to wince at the sheer volume of her squeal.

"Kagome," Izayoi reiterated, taking a step towards her daughter-in-law.

The word never registered with the petite woman. Kagome just stared; just looked at the little girl who was clutching to Izayoi's arm and eyeing her with unabashed happiness.

Slowly, Kagome's mind seemed to catch up with the implications that were being laid before her.

There was a little girl in her bathroom.

There was a little girl in her bathroom; a little girl who was calling Izayoi 'grandmother'.

There was a little girl in her bathroom; a little girl who was calling Izayoi 'grandmother,' and talking about someone marrying her 'Papa.'

"Oh," Kagome said for the second time. The room around her suddenly shifted; her world spinning as while her mind caught up with the entire situation.

This little girl was the 'thing' that both Izayoi and Myouga were searching for.

This little girl was what they were trying to hide from her.

This little girl…This little girl was Sesshomaru's daughter.

"Oh," The raven-haired woman reiterated for the third time before ungracefully falling to the floor, knees giving out as she landed on her backside.

This little girl was her step-daughter.

[johnwaterstrike]

The Memories becomes a set of wings (Joint RP between John and Khyran)

John push the door open, glancing around the inside of the house before moving farther inside. Anyone that saw him, would notice the pack on his back, and a lid box in his hand. A box that if those that knew how to do so, would be able to tell was heavily warded. "Khy," he call out. "Are you busy?" He wince as a stabbing pain rack the inside of his head. That didn't feel right at all and he swallow wondering if maybe Salacea might be gaining a foothold in his head. Khyran was seated at his desk, bent over paperwork, when he heard the door open. "I'm not busy at all, please come in, John." He put down what he was doing and regarded the man with a concerned look. "Are you ready?" John sigh in relief. "Yes and no," he said, sitting the box down on the desk. "So far, the memories have been...not quiet but still." He reach up, wincing as he rub his forehead, "Until a few minutes ago. I'm worried she's getting a foothold and what you might face in those memories." Khyran considered for a moment, picking up a roll of moko grass and lighting it between his crooked teeth. He drew in a deep draw and blew out the smoke slowly. "Would you like a cigar?" He asked. "Helps calm the nerves, at least for me." He sat for a moment in silence, then turned to face the man more fully, his expression calm. "Delving into the minds of the suffering, corrupt and possessed has been my sole purpose for over six years. I have seen things that keep me awake at night, weeping in my dreams, until I can weep no longer. I am... hardened, John. There is nothing more that I can see that will shake me. So please, do not concern for me. I am, however, concerned for you. I do not wish to waste any more time."

He leaned back in his chair a bit, bony fingers folding over his chest. "Your dreaming ability is similar to mine, so I feel no need to ask you if you're prepared for this. It may cause you pain, and it may leave you very weak. Are you ready for that?" He offer his friend a worry smile. "I figure as much." he said, unslinging the pack from his back. "Couple days worth of clothes, a couple of medical books, and this..." he said, knocking his knuckles against the box. "I let Warren and the others know that I might be gone for a couple of days and where to find me, if they can't reach me by Pearl." He rub the back of his neck. "So, um, I'll apologizes now, in case Howl come in wanting to know if I'm ok." He move over to a chair, sitting in it before leaning his head back, rubbing at the growing pain. "I just can't help but worry." He look at Khyran with concern and there might be a darkness along the edge of his eyes. "I know what she's done and what she made others do. Please, just be careful." "It's alright. If anyone comes for you, I will inform them that you will be here. You can stay in my office if you want, now that Nazyl is out of the bed, or we can move into the Medica infirmary. You'll be out in public more that way, however, and that can be seen as both a blessing or a curse depending on what you want." He started to stand from his desk. "I recommend you stay here. People coming and going and trying to talk to you all the time may just hurt your head." He walked over beside John and said, "your concerns are duly noted. But, again..." He patted the man on the shoulder. "Have a little faith in me, aye?" John reach up, placing his hand over Khyran's own. "I have faith, in you. I'll try to help where I can." he said. His hand tighten as another blast of pain before he let go and grip the arm of the chair. "Thi...think you better..." He led John over to the spare room, where he would bid him to lie down, wordlessly gesturing to it. "I will place my hand upon your head, and you will fall asleep. When that happens, your Dreaming will take over, I do believe. I will then be able to access your memories and whatever manner of monster resides there. With luck, I can exorcise it." John drop onto the bed, nodding as he did so. He waited for a moment before stretching out on the bed. "I...if you need to..." he said. "Throw me...into Medical after..." he said, giving a pain smile to Khyran. He closed his eyes and work on steadying his breathing. "Ok, do it now." he whisper. Khyran did not hesitate, or show any sign of uncertainty as his bony fingers dropped onto the man's head, brushing away his hair so that his fingertips could press into flesh. He would feel something like a strange, spreading warmth- a tingling in his scalp. The more he tried to pay attention to it, the more drowsy he would become... until he was plunged into the darkness of dreams. He was within his own mind, yet he would feel a stranger here- an observer that didn't quite belong. If his mind could constitute it, he would picture an ink-black vulture flying gracefully in the distance. John for his part was kind of blink, for a moment fighting the sleep then just letting it take him. He fell, fear raising up as he thought that the reverse happen and his dreaming had ended up placing him in Khyran's memories. It took a moment for him to remember that he had his gloves still on. He force his body to turn, landing and rolling a bit before coming up to his feet. His hand reach for Kit's book and then move to the two daggers in his boots. To Khyran, John would look younger, just entering his teens before the form shift to look like his own self. He blink again, taking in the form of the large bird, black as night, almost hawk like to his mind and not like the vulture that Khy might think he is. He looks around finding Ul'dah's back streets, a small form, very young and looking sort of like John, and an older hyur boy that was aguring with each other. He knew this scene. "This...this is to far back. We need to move up in the memories." he said, not sure if Khyran could here him in this realm. The soon they move, the less he had to relive that moment. Was this Salacea way to by herself time? The vulture swept down until he was flying over John's head, circling. "It is your mind, my friend. Lead me to what I must help you remove, and I will dig my talons into it. Otherwise, I have no power over what memories come to the surface. You are the guide, I am merely your passenger." "Ok..." he said. His hand move, almost as if it was searching before it closed on something and he pull. A darken room, fever heavy in the air. His younger self, lying sick in bed, even as a dark hair elezen lean over 'him' more like a vulture then the one that flew over his head. He could hear Fabrellet's words even now, whisper about how the elements saw him as a curse. And there was his red hair sister, looking like she was ready to beat the healer's head in before she vanish from the room. He slam the door closed. "Not that one....think," he mutter before stepping forward in a random direction. He pass through the link black night, and then far, far in the distance, the faint sound of singing but there wasn't a pull to it. But he knew this memory and he move forward. Maybe if they were closer. The vulture's form remained impassive, existing there, rather than intruding. It observed and waited, its bright red eyes passing from one person to the next. It made no comment on what it saw as it followed John deeper. "...If it helps. Focus your mind and body on the pain. Force yourself to recall what has recently caused you duress. You may pull repressed memories, or you may guide us closer to our source." 'Repressed......memories.' At that thought, the scene change and it was John's room, part of it closed in, a door with a red crystal in a holder next to it. "Kit, I have to do this...I just hope that Pick can forgive me. The others can't know." He sat cross legged, eyes closed, and for a moment, the scene change, a black hair hyur lad with blood dripping from his daggers, 'I can' do it...skin looka more red within all 'he blood.' the lad seem to whisper. 'John' rush forward, even as the lad look like he was going to throw himself in the water. 'John' hand closed on the shoulder and he found himself drowning in someone else memories. It would seem hours...days before the John before him and Khyran recover enough to set the plan into motion. He try to stop the memory, not wanting Khyran to see this. Wasn't it bad enough that Connor found out. Yet he couldn't stop it, almost as if someone else was controling it. He watch himself dye his hair black, finding the fabric to make the puff hat to hid is ears, and the pair of hyur pant to hide his tail. Khyran would realize that the hyur looking out from the mirror was the same one that had been in the back, at his and Fab's trial. A female voice, sickly sweet voice seem to speak around them. "That's right...you had to help, sweet little boy." The voice seem to reach into him pulling at the loneliness. "You couldn't go yourself. Why your parents would have been so angry if they knew you were helping a wanted man." She laugh. "And what would they think, knowing that you were the one that said..." "Stop...stop..." he said, clutching his head. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." This memory gave the vulture pause. As he observed it, his wings beat a little slower, until he circled to the ground. Emotion was difficult to read on the face of an animal, and the vulture's own emotions remained as impassive as ever, save for the slight droop of its wings. It was impossible to tell what he was really thinking, but he sat and watched the memory all the same. "They won't believe you." the voice said. "Such a weak little boy but I'll take you in. All you have to do is..." it stop speaking then singing began. Aching and pulling at John in promise to make it stop The scene shifted, the court room, Khyran and Fab. John in the back speaking with the guard. 'I want to be here to support but I can't. If 'they' knew, my family could lose everything...' His Lisma heavily, sounding like a local come to watch a good show. John was on his knees, still clutching his head. "I didn't want to hurt them...everything I said." The woman laugh again. "Then you are such a fool. Why keep fighting? You're protector isn't here anymore. The little one may have forgiven you but he is weak, just like those 'friends'. But, you even weaker then them..." The vulture hopped up next to John, tilting its expressionless face. "This is your mind, John. You are only what you believe you are. I see a young child in you, but you can become a rock- a lion- a dragon." He said. "Shake off the shackles of your guilt. Become a greater beast and come with me to fight this master of lies." The vulture preened a wing. "I hold no animosity towards you. You did what you had to. You are no less a friend of mine. Now- let me hear you roar!" "Don't...don't..." John murmurr. "DON'T EVER CALL CONNOR AND KHYRAN WEAK!" he scream, as something looking like a blond hair seeker flash out from John, fist smashing into the memory to reveal the serpent like form of the Siren behind the memory. "You," she hiss, claws racking into the figure. John scream as the image/memories of Howl's shatter. He scream again...no, shriek like an eagle. 'Eagles have always be a symbol of protection,' Shun's voice whisper. 'Given time and need, every Eagle finds the wings to fly.' He shriek again even as he took to the sky, before diving to rack talons across sickly flesh of the siren. Though the bird was without expression, with the way it spread its wings and lifted its head, it looked proud. And if its beak could smile, it would be beaming- for its heart swelled with a great joy for John as he took to his own wings. With that, the vulture joined the pursuit, the scavenger going right for the Siren's eyes with practiced precision. In the real world, John may feel a strange, biting sort of pain in his forehead as Khyran began the attempt of siphoning the Siren out of his head, trying to capture it in the form of materia. His success, however, would largely be determined by how hard John fights to free himself of the siren's grasp. John cry out, in this dream realm and the real as her tail caught in the side, as he try to turn to make another pass. He hit the ground, stun, even as the siren scream in pain as her eyes were damage. Claw hands rack out blindly at Khyran, hoping to try and catch the one that was taking her prey from her. John shook himself, struggling to get back on his feet and back into the air. He began to think, trying to form a plan. Height, he needed height. Taking to his wings, he flew away and up from the pair, glancing back to judge. Was this far enough, was he high enough to do this? His talon feet open and closed as he ease back, before allowing his wings to close and drop like a feather cover arrow, aiming for the back of Salacea's neck. His beak whipped down to pluck an eye from the socket of the siren's skull. As its clawed hands came out to meet him and he flew away. Its claws caught against his tailfeathers and ripped them free, but the vulture made no sound. He flew around and around its head, tauntingly, distracting it as John moved in for the kill. An eyeball dangled in the vulture's beak. In the real world, it seemed Khyran was slowly succeeding to pull the siren from John's head- but his own energy was beginning to weaken, and his knees quaked with the simple effort of standing. If John could finish off the siren, he could pull it the rest of the way out- but everything hinged on this moment. Claws feet came out, using the moment that Khyran gave him to ready for the kill. He shriek, his only warning as he drop like a metor, claws sinking deep into her neck, and snapping the bones from the force. That same force sent the 'dying' Siren and John into the ground, throwing John, his talons taking chucks of flesh from the body. A claw hand reach out, catching the left wing before John's eagle form tumble away. He laid there, watching Khyran's own form circle above the body and himself, then the body shatter, the memories began to move up to Khyran's form. Then he felt Kit's light, shining near him. In the real world, John's left arm began to bleed out a black slime, sliding down onto the bed before the wound began to bleed red blood. Kit's book at his hip glow, the light seeming to dry it up before it vanish into nothing. John's back arch and he cried out in pain as the materia of the siren's memories was pull from him, then John didn't know anything more, falling into dreamless sleep. With one final pull, the materia coalesced into Khyran's hand, pulling painfully through John's head. With that, the vulture flew away, taking to the sky and calling as he left: "Eagles are hope, and life, and strength. Live unshackled, and carry no regret." And in the real world, Khyran took that materia with him swiftly. He drew a silver lockbox from the bedside table, undoing the combinations and pressing the materia inside. The box was swiftly locked once more, encased in a vault of pure silver. When this was done, Khyran was breathless and shaking, his energy spent and his body aching. But John was his concern. He checked his vitals, ensuring the man was not weakening. As he returned to his senses, the stupor of the dreamworld wearing away, he did not notice the black slime that Kit had expelled. Khyran sank into a chair nearby, and resolved to sit and wait for John to regain consciousness. He would not move, and he would not fall asleep. The man remained ever vigilant.

[skitscratched]

Conquering Squirrels

I’m not spending a lot of time in Hat on Felix’s adventures with the Roger Pirates so I made a separate story for anything I reference happening in Hat that I didn’t show. I’ll mostly be writing these little shorts when I get inspired by something or another. For example: 

Inspired by "The Nameless City" by H.P. Lovecraft, a short story I read for my Science Fiction class.

"New Island!" Roger jumps onto the beach. Well if it could even be called that.

:: Roger, it's a rock. Look to your right, there's flat rock. To your left is valley rock. And in front of you, there's hilly rock. I don't feel a single living creature on this island. WHY did you make us stop here again? ::

"Because it's an adventure!" Roger exclaims, staring up into the sky and folding his arms. "For some reason, the people on Faris warned us to stay away, but no matter how much I needled them, they just said to listen to the warnings. Then one of them finally told us that even they don't know why they stay away, but that just means we need to find out!"

:: I don't understand where the "we" comes from. I'm pretty sure I said to leave the matter be. ::

"Oh come on, Felix!" Roger makes his way across the pebbly terrain that seemed to constitute the beach around here. "There's bound to be something interesting!"

:: No, I don't see how- huh. ::

"What is it?" Roger asks, looking around to try and see what his steadfast companion noticed.

:: Well, it appears that this island is not so dead after all. I think I can see plant life just beyond those mounds of stone over there. ::

"You mean the ones shaped like large rats?" Roger points out.

:: I think they're squirrels actually. See the bushy tail? ::

Roger approaches the shapes, turning enough to see the tail behind the body. "Okay, yeah. I can see it now." He places a hand on the rock, feeling the smooth texture. A bit too smooth actually. "Hey, these feel like they were carved."

:: You're right… It doesn't look very old either. They must have been made sometime in the last couple of decades or so. ::

Roger brightens. "You think there are people still living on this island?"

:: There might be, but I don't know about this Roger. Even if there are people on this island, they're probably not friendly. The warnings we got were there for a reason after all. ::

Roger ignores his friend's hesitation and walks past the squirrel shaped stones. Felix was right, there was plant life. It was concentrated in a depression between two stone hills and seemed to be shaped in a circle. "It seems like the stone part of this island is only surrounding the edges of the island. There's tons of bushes here in the center."

Roger can practically feel the frown Felix would be sporting if he had a face. :: But why only bushes? Why not grass? Where are the animals? ::

Roger starts to move down the hill. :: Roger! Something's not right here! ::

"So?" Roger raises an eyebrow. "That's how adventures go. Sometimes you find lame things and sometimes - which is most of the time - things turn out awesome!"

:: … That has nothing to do with our situation. ::

"Look, it'll be fun! You'll see!" Roger enters the bushes. "It'll be fiaaaaAAAAAAHHHHH!"

:: ROGER IF WE MAKE IT OUT OF THIS ALIVE I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T LET GO OF ME! ::

"HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR." Roger shouts over the sound of rushing wind as we fall down, down, down past what is now clearly visible as ginormous trees. He has a hand clasped over his head, securing Felix, while the other reaches out to the trunk of the closest tree to slow his fall.

Eventually, he managed to land on a thick branch without it breaking underneath him.

Roger whistles as he gazes at the bits of sunlight he could see past the leaves. At the rate they were falling, they had to be at least a hundred meters down.

:: Roger, that's not sunlight. Take a closer look at the tree. ::

Roger blinks and inspects the bark underneath his hand. His eyes widen. The bark was glowing. It wasn't much, but when combined with all the trees around them, it lit up everything underneath the thick canopy above them. It created an ethereal feel to the land beneath the branches.

:: The trees here must have evolved to take in so much sunlight that they could carry it to the other parts of it for energy. These things are huge, it would take more than what a normal plant absorbs to survive. Especially since only the top most leaves get exposed to the sun in the first place. ::

Roger grins. "See!" He crows. "I knew it would be worth it to come here! If we hadn't we would never have seen this! And look at how amazing this place is!"

Roger wasn't wrong. The branches twisted and tangled all around them. They were large enough to comfortably walk on and created pathways between the different trees. The leaves underneath the trees were much larger too, as large as a human compared to the palm sized things on the surface. For all intents and purposes, the land seems like a safe haven of light and tranquility.

:: ...But then why did the islanders warn us to stay away? It can't be because they want to protect this place, all of them only spoke of this island with fear. ::

"Who cares?" Roger shrugs, jumping to another branch. "They can do what they want and we can do what we want. It's not like we're going to destroy this anyways. They'll never know."

"Hey look!" Roger climbs a tree trunk koala style to a lower branch. "That one's hollowed out! I bet it's an awesome slide!"

:: Roger, wait. We have no idea where that thing ends - and you're not listening to me. Why am I still expecting otherwise. ::

True to form, Roger was whooping and hollering as he slid down the tree slide. It curved, zig-zagged, zag-zigged, twisted and looped and it didn't take long for Felix to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Roger's joy was just infectious like that.

Much to Roger's disappointment, he reached the end five minutes later and tumbled into a giant pile of leaves at the bottom. Popping up from where he was covered by the leaves, Roger's grin looked like it could split his face. "Let's do that again!"

:: Oh for Goda's sake. Really? We do need to find food before leaving you know. It's going to take time for you to get up there again to do that. Time that we don't have. ::

"But that was so much fuuuun." Roger pouts, shoulders slumping slightly. "I wanna do it again."

:: What are you, five? It's not like you can't do it afterwards, we just need to be responsi- uh oh. ::

Roger snaps out of his sulk and narrows his eyes. "What's wrong?"

:: I think I know why they told us to stay away… BEHIND YOU! ::

Roger ducks just in time letting his attacker go sailing over his head instead of onto his back, leaving him vulnerable to attack.

His attacker wasn't human, that was obvious. In fact, it greatly resembled the stone statues they walked passed to get to this part of the island. Its eyes glowed a sickly green and its fur was a shade of golden yellow, much like the trees around them, and it had given it the element of surprise. It had large curved claws, presumably for both attacking and climbing. Its teeth were sharp and not unlike those found on tigers and other carnivorous beasts, suggesting that unlike its smaller, much more harmless counterparts, it was the hunter. It was larger than Roger, though fortunately, not by much.

Unfortunately, it looked like it was tiny when compared to the ones behind it, making it obvious that it was a kid.

:: RUN! ::

"GOT IT!" Roger yelps, already scrambling through the branches to climb up the trees again. Only. There was a veritable army of them there too. Roger backs up against the tree trunk and watches all of them warily, falling into a fighting stance. "Uh, Felix?" Roger weakly asks. "Now would be a really good time to pull out Conqueror's Haki!"

:: I'm trying, I'm trying! I'm still new at this! ::

Roger curses as the monster squirrels finally attack, apparently eager to start their feast. He punches one away and another immediately takes its place. It's fortunate that they're so large because it keeps more than a few of them from being able to reach him at once.

"Well try harder!" Roger shouts, barely managing to snatch his arm out of the way of one of the creature's jaws. "The first thing we're doing as soon as we get out of here, we're stepping up our Haki training! That hardening thing seems like it would be a lot more useful than normal Armament right about now!"

:: YOU try activating Conqueror's Haki on demand when you only did it twice before! ::

"Less talking, more focusing!"

:: I don't want to hear that from you! ::

Roger jumps on the head of one of the squirrels and fights his way up to a higher branch. Alas, his opponents were simply in their element. He was not made for navigating through tree branches, nor was he fast enough for it not to matter. It took only a moment for him to be pinned down underneath one of them and just seconds away from becoming the thing's next meal.

:: ROGER! ::

Roger stares into the beast's gaping maw, several more around them ready to pounce. "I'm not going to… DIE HERE!" He shouts, unconsciously releasing a blast of Willpower at his attackers in his determination to live.

All around them, the monster squirrels start dropping like flies, not intelligent enough to withstand the force of Roger's instinctive attack. The few that remain seem to deem them as too much effort to attack because they take the young and leave the rest.

Roger stands and picks up Felix, watching them leave carefully. He strains his meager abilities with Observation Haki to the limit to make sure they alone are conscious before he lets himself sag. "Man Felix, you weren't kidding when you said that awakening Conqueror's Haki takes a lot out of you."

:: Of course I wasn't! ...But Roger, are you okay? ::

Roger places Felix back on his head. "I'm in one piece anyways. And I got Conqueror's Haki out of this so hey! Consolation prize!"

:: This was way too close for something in the West Blue. I would have expected creatures like that on the Grand Line. ::

"Least we know why those people were so scared." Roger offers, climbing and jumping through the trees to get out of this forest before the fiends either woke up or decided to go after him again."

:: Yeah, and they certainly had good reason to. If we didn't have Haki, we would be goners by now. ::

"Speaking of which." Roger smiles smugly. "That was my first time using Conqueror's Haki and I managed it before you."

:: Oh just shut up! It's not like you're going to be able to do it again any time soon! Just you wait, you'll see EXACTLY how hard it really is! ::

"Sure, sure." Roger glances at the brim of his Hat with a pitying look.

:: I can see that, Roger! ::

The statues that they came across? It was placed as a warning as to what kind of creatures can kill them. Incidentally, the squirrels are an invasive species from the Calm Belt and the islanders are now terrified of squirrels of all kinds.

[readbookywooks]

Lizaveta

THERE was one circumstance which struck Grigory particularly, and confirmed a very unpleasant and revolting suspicion. This Lizaveta was a dwarfish creature, "not five foot within a wee bit," as many of the pious old women said pathetically about her, after her death. Her broad, healthy, red face had a look of blank idiocy and the fixed stare in her eyes was unpleasant, in spite of their meek expression. She wandered about, summer and winter alike, barefooted, wearing nothing but a hempen smock. Her coarse, almost black hair curled like lamb's wool, and formed a sort of huge cap on her head. It was always crusted with mud, and had leaves; bits of stick, and shavings clinging to it, as she always slept on the ground and in the dirt. Her father, a homeless, sickly drunkard, called Ilya, had lost everything and lived many years as a workman with some well-to-do tradespeople. Her mother had long been dead. Spiteful and diseased, Ilya used to beat Lizaveta inhumanly whenever she returned to him. But she rarely did so, for everyone in the town was ready to look after her as being an idiot, and so specially dear to God. Ilya's employers, and many others in the town, especially of the tradespeople, tried to clothe her better, and always rigged her out with high boots and sheepskin coat for the winter. But, although she allowed them to dress her up without resisting, she usually went away, preferably to the cathedral porch, and taking off all that had been given her - kerchief, sheepskin, skirt or boots - she left them there and walked away barefoot in her smock as before. It happened on one occasion that a new governor of the province, making a tour of inspection in our town, saw Lizaveta, and was wounded in his tenderest susceptibilities. And though he was told she was an idiot, he pronounced that for a young woman of twenty to wander about in nothing but a smock was a breach of the proprieties, and must not occur again. But the governor went his way, and Lizaveta was left as she was. At last her father died, which made her even more acceptable in the eyes of the religious persons of the town, as an orphan. In fact, everyone seemed to like her; even the boys did not tease her, and the boys of our town, especially the schoolboys, are a mischievous set. She would walk into strange houses, and no one drove her away. Everyone was kind to her and gave her something. If she were given a copper, she would take it, and at once drop it in the alms-jug of the church or prison. If she were given a roll or bun in the market, she would hand it to the first child she met. Sometimes she would stop one of the richest ladies in the town and give it to her, and the lady would be pleased to take it. She herself never tasted anything but black bread and water. If she went into an expensive shop, where there were costly goods or money lying about, no one kept watch on her, for they knew that if she saw thousands of roubles overlooked by them, she would not have touched a farthing. She scarcely ever went to church. She slept either in the church porch or climbed over a hurdle (there are many hurdles instead of fences to this day in our town) into a kitchen garden. She used at least once a week to turn up "at home," that is at the house of her father's former employers, and in the winter went there every night, and slept either in the passage or the cow-house. People were amazed that she could stand such a life, but she was accustomed to it, and, although she was so tiny, she was of a robust constitution. Some of the townspeople declared that she did all this only from pride, but that is hardly credible. She could hardly speak, and only from time to time uttered an inarticulate grunt. How could she have been proud? It happened one clear, warm, moonlight night in September (many years ago) five or six drunken revellers were returning from the club at a very late hour, according to our provincial notions. They passed through the "backway," which led between the back gardens of the houses, with hurdles on either side. This way leads out on to the bridge over the long, stinking pool which we were accustomed to call a river. Among the nettles and burdocks under the hurdle our revellers saw Lizaveta asleep. They stopped to look at her, laughing, and began jesting with unbridled licentiousness. It occurred to one young gentleman to make the whimsical inquiry whether anyone could possibly look upon such an animal as a woman, and so forth.... They all pronounced with lofty repugnance that it was impossible. But Fyodor Pavlovitch, who was among them, sprang forward and declared that it was by no means impossible, and that, indeed, there was a certain piquancy about it, and so on.... It is true that at that time he was overdoing his part as a buffoon. He liked to put himself forward and entertain the company, ostensibly on equal terms, of course, though in reality he was on a servile footing with them. It was just at the time when he had received the news of his first wife's death in Petersburg, and, with crape upon his hat, was drinking and behaving so shamelessly that even the most reckless among us were shocked at the sight of him. The revellers, of course, laughed at this unexpected opinion; and one of them even began challenging him to act upon it. The others repelled the idea even more emphatically, although still with the utmost hilarity, and at last they went on their way. Later on, Fyodor Pavlovitch swore that he had gone with them, and perhaps it was so, no one knows for certain, and no one ever knew. But five or six months later, all the town was talking, with intense and sincere indignation, of Lizaveta's condition, and trying to find out who was the miscreant who had wronged her. Then suddenly a terrible rumour was all over the town that this miscreant was no other than Fyodor Pavlovitch. Who set the rumour going? Of that drunken band five had left the town and the only one still among us was an elderly and much respected civil councillor, the father of grown-up daughters, who could hardly have spread the tale, even if there had been any foundation for it. But rumour pointed straight at Fyodor Pavlovitch, and persisted in pointing at him. Of course this was no great grievance to him: he would not have troubled to contradict a set of tradespeople. In those days he was proud, and did not condescend to talk except in his own circle of the officials and nobles, whom he entertained so well. At the time, Grigory stood up for his master vigorously. He provoked quarrels and altercations in defence of him and succeeded in bringing some people round to his side. "It's the wench's own fault," he asserted, and the culprit was Karp, a dangerous convict, who had escaped from prison and whose name was well known to us, as he had hidden in our town. This conjecture sounded plausible, for it was remembered that Karp had been in the neighbourhood just at that time in the autumn, and had robbed three people. But this affair and all the talk about it did not estrange popular sympathy from the poor idiot. She was better looked after than ever. A well-to-do merchants's widow named Kondratyev arranged to take her into her house at the end of April, meaning not to let her go out until after the confinement. They kept a constant watch over her, but in spite of their vigilance she escaped on the very last day, and made her way into Fyodor Pavlovitch's garden. How, in her condition, she managed to climb over the high, strong fence remained a mystery. Some maintained that she must have been lifted over by somebody; others hinted at something more uncanny. The most likely explanation is that it happened naturally - that Lizaveta, accustomed to clambering over hurdles to sleep in gardens, had somehow managed to climb this fence, in spite of her condition, and had leapt down, injuring herself. Grigory rushed to Marfa and sent her to Lizaveta, while he ran to fetch an old midwife who lived close by. They saved the baby, but Lizaveta died at dawn. Grigory took the baby, brought it home, and making his wife sit down, put it on her lap. "A child of God - an orphan is akin to all," he said, "and to us above others. Our little lost one has sent us this, who has come from the devil's son and a holy innocent. Nurse him and weep no more." So Marfa brought up the child. He was christened Pavel, to which people were not slow in adding Fyodorovitch (son of Fyodor). Fyodor Pavlovitch did not object to any of this, and thought it amusing, though he persisted vigorously in denying his responsibility. The townspeople were pleased at his adopting the foundling. Later on, Fyodor Pavlovitch invented a surname for the child, calling him Smerdyakov, after his mother's nickname. So this Smerdyakov became Fyodor Pavlovitch's second servant, and was living in the lodge with Grigory and Marfa at the time our story begins. He was employed as cook. I ought to say something of this Smerdyakov, but I am ashamed of keeping my readers' attention so long occupied with these common menials, and I will go back to my story, hoping to say more of Smerdyakov in the course of it.