Inuyasha 1. The Accident

Summary: AU Inuyasha modern-era fic: A mysterious stranger saves Kagome's life after she and Sango are in a car accident, but leaves before the paramedics arrive. She does not know his name, but she can never forget the eyes of her savior.

_For Sassy_

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter One: The Accident**

Upon the densely populated streets of Tokyo, the rain fell heavy like a waterfall. The flashing billboard lights and signs, the taillights of the line of cars congesting the city's byways, and the flashes of lightening stood out in the blackness of the evening. The windows of the 1999 blue Mirage Asti were fogged despite the defrost system working overtime, and the squeak of the windshield wipers had replaced the sound of the radio about the time Sango realized she and Kagome were lost.

"Where are we?" Sango questioned, not bothering to hide her irritation. Her back hunched as she leaned forward, hoping it would make it easier to see through the mess of traffic and weather limiting her vision. Her knuckles turned white at the death grip she had on the steering wheel. "Kags, I don't think we're anywhere near Hachioji Studio. This neighborhood looks too rough."

In the passenger seat beside her, Kagome Higurashi skimmed a road map of Tokyo. Her chocolate-brown eyes glared at the offending piece of parchment. "Ugh, Sango, I cannot even find this street! I'm going to miss my audition," she wailed in frustration.

"Calm down, Kags," Sango reassured her. "Let me just get to that gas station and we will ask for directions."

"Are you sure that's the best idea?" Kagome asked, shifting her gaze out through the fogged passenger window. She wiped away the moisture and didn't like the look of the neighborhood beyond. The buildings were in disrepair; the neon signs flickered and flashed from age; the streets were littered; and the buildings wore graffiti. As for the people, rough was the only polite way to describe the denizens of this area. The sight gave her chills.

"Would you prefer to miss your audition? Give up on those dreams of yours?" Sango countered. She didn't dare take her eyes off the road to glance at her friend. She already knew what Kagome's answer would be. The girl had been on pins and needles all week over the company auditions at Hachioji Studio. If she were selected, the classical dancer would have a foot in the door of every major dance company in Japan as well as connections in London and New York. This was her dream, and Sango was going to get her there.

Sango pressed down on the gas, speeding up with the flow of traffic. She used her sleeve to clear the fog from the inside of her windshield. Her vision tunneled to focus on the red glow of taillights, which were her only guide up the four-lane street. The rush of water, the whine of the wiper blades, the crack of thunder all sounded, and then came the long, drawn-out call of an air horn. It was followed quickly by Kagome's petrified scream. As Sango glanced to the right, a bright light filled her vision before the quiet void of nothingness enveloped her.

———

The time between impact and when the car came to settle felt like an eternity to the occupants in the crumpled car frame. In realty, only seconds had passed, but they were more than enough for shattered glass and twisted metal to do their work upon the girls' bodies.

Kagome's eyes blinked. Her head ached and she could not focus her thoughts through the pounding at her right temple. '_What was wrong? What had happened'?_ she wondered. Like a bird just learning to fly, she had soared high that day, on the verge of beginning a grand adventure, and now … they had crashed.

Through hazy vision, Kagome could see the crowd gathering and gawking at the two vehicles blocking the thoroughfare: Sango's car and a semi-truck. Some pointed, some talked on their cell phones, while others shouted and scrambled about, but none came for her, no one came for Sango. _'Help,'_ she pleaded silently.

Her thoughts scattered like a drunken person, who was too inebriated to follow a single train of thought. The blurred figures outside the vehicle floated across her vision like ghosts in the night. Were they real? Was she dead?_ 'Kami, help us. Help Sango.'_

"Sango," Kagome tried to whisper. Her throat hurt; her body ached; and for the first time, the young woman noticed her own labored breath as the roar echoing in her ears. She rolled her head against the seat's neck rest, trying to find her best friend. The older girl was slumped against the steering wheel; blood oozed from a wound on her forehead. Her arms hung limply at her side. Bits of shattered glass shimmered in her hair under the effects of the flickering streetlights.

'_Sango,'_ she tried again, but no sound emitted from her throat. _'Sango!'_ she persisted, but her pleas were lost, only to dwell within her clouded mind. Kagome gasped as she tried to rouse her best friend; the more she tried to call for the brunette, the more the dancer chocked, until finally, the woman realized she could no longer breathe.

Immediately, Kagome began to panic. She reached for the seat belt and successfully unhooked the buckle. She fought with the door handle, but she lacked the energy to force it open. She emitted a garbled scream, interrupted by coughs and sputters. She slumped farther into the seat, too weak to save her own life, and she knew in that moment the truth of her pain-filled nightmare — She was going to die. The door would not open; she could not move. And now, she could smell the gasoline keeping the shadowed orbs at bay. Tears streamed down her face.

Kagome tried to scream again, but nothing crossed her lips. She lifted a shaking hand to reach out, to plead with the apparitions to release her from her hell and relieve her pain. Noting a discoloration to her hand, she lifted her arm farther, rolling her wrist to look at her palm. It was covered in blood that now dripped off her fingertips. Her glazed orbs scanned up the elevated appendage, seeking the origin of the copper-red liquid. Her hand then lightly brushed her throat, the source of so much pain, and then quickly pulled away from the shock of what she found. It was there, the wound that spilled her life as freely as the sky drenched the earth. She _was_ going die.

Resigned to her fate, Kagome closed her eyes and waited for the blackness of death to claim her.

The groans of twisted metal filled the injured woman's ears like a foghorn in the depths of night. Black lashes fluttered until her eyes were mere slits, and she could finally see the face of one of the ghosts haunting her hazy vision. A man, not much older than she, dug through the wreckage. His jet-black hair hung long to frame a handsome face with golden eyes that glowed like a watchtower beckoning a traveler home. Those molten-gold spheres transfixed her, and she could not look away.

The man pulled the crumpled door from the vehicle's frame, letting it fall into the roadway. He scooped her up into his arms and freed her from the totaled Mirage. Water soaked through her sweats as he placed her on the sidewalk. She shivered from the cold, but still only stared incoherently at the figure hovering above her. His large body shielded her smaller frame from the subsiding rain.

"Can you hear me?" he asked. She could only gaze into the celestial suns of his eyes for a few more moments before her mind slipped away once more. Her eyelids slid shut. His hand guided her chin and he shook her gently, forcing her to open them. The pain in her chest, at her throat, in her head was almost unbearable; she just wanted to sleep now that she was free from the wreckage, but her hero refused to let her give in. "Hey, look at me; don't close your eyes," he ordered.

Kagome nodded, or at least she thought she had. Time blurred and swirled as it blended with her overwhelming pain. She just wanted it to end, but the persistent ghost kept haunting her. She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen. "This is going to hurt," he warned in a gentle voice.

Kagome panicked when he straddled her. With blurred vision, she watched as he popped the top and bottom off the writing instrument, leaving only the hollow plastic tube. From another pocket, he pulled a knife and brought it to her throat. She tried to scream, but still nothing escaped. She squeezed her eyes closed; heavy tears mixed with the raindrops striking her cheeks. _'What was he doing?'_ He was hurting her … he was … she could breathe. Kagome's eyelids popped open in surprise, and then began an endless cycle of fluttering open and close in the midst of her agony.

He carefully picked up one of her arms and placed one hand at her throat and then the other. His face hovered above Kagome's. She tried to gasp, but whatever actions he took to allow her air made her unable to do so. He moved a little closer, and the dancer could feel his warm breath upon the side of her cold face now.

"Keep your hands at your throat; you need to keep the tube there," he ordered.

'_Tube,'_ she wondered, already forgetting he had pulled apart a ballpoint.

"Just keep breathing, girl, calm, slow breaths." His lips pressed her cheek, warming the chilled surface. "May whatever Kami you believe in protect you," he said.

He stood up, pulled off his coat, draped it over the accident victim, and then sprinted off into the cold, wet evening. Seconds later, paramedics stood where the young man had been. Their dark eyes hovered in her field of vision just before she passed out, but it was not these new men she would remember. It would be _his_ eyes that would haunt her dreams.


	2. To Rise and to Fall

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_For definitions of dance terms used, please visit the American Ballet Theatre Web site dictionary. They also have video that shows some of the movements mentioned._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_For Sassy  
_

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Two: To Rise and To Fall**

The sounds of an orchestra gently rose over the speakers in the small studio, beginning with the winds. When the strings joined their musical brethren, the dancer began to move. She appeared to float across the studio atop her pointed toes. Her movements were basic, yet as graceful as any renowned prima. Her arms floated above her head, and then dropped to chest level as she extended her left leg. She quickly returned to its point, and then let go of her center of gravity and turned with ease before her feet returned to first position. With two quick steps, she reached the center of the room and then moved into a series of pas de bourrée. She switched her weight from foot to foot and from point to a terre _(flat)_, stretching out the muscles in her weak ankle better than any exercise she managed when warming up. She relished the sensation.

Feeling confident, she stepped out from the last pas de bourrée onto the point of her right slipper and lifted her body into an attitude. The music continued, but she didn't flow into the next step of the choreography she had memorized years ago. No, she held the attitude, forcing her weak ankle to support her even when she could feel the muscles twitching and protesting the full weight of her body. She would win today. After six months of fighting and recovery, Kagome needed to succeed.

But she failed.

Kagome's right leg began to shake uncontrollably before buckling and forcing her foot to fall flat once more. She crumpled to the floor in defeat. The palms of her hands slapped the smooth wooden surface. Her jaw tightened as she stared down at them. Tears formed at the edges of her eyes. What good was a ballerina who couldn't even hold an attitude or arabesque?

It had been a year since the accident that had crushed several of her ribs and her right ankle. She had spent three months in the intensive care unit at Takahashi Hospital, but not because of the damage to her chest and leg. No, her real injury had been the glass embedded in her throat from the passenger window. She would have, and probably should have, died that night. The extensive damage to her throat took three surgeons to repair, and the only reason she made it to that surgery was because of the golden-eyed man who had pulled her from the wreckage and '_trached'_ her with a ballpoint pen of all things.

During the months in the hospital, she worked with a speech pathologist to regain vocal control to speak. She also spent long hours in physical therapy to help rebuild the strength in her right leg after the bones healed. She had never worried about whether she would dance again. She was told, and felt, that it was only a matter time. Her time arrived six months prior, when her doctor finally released her to dance. The months that followed had been wretched for the _Princess _of the Tokyo University stage_._

Once royalty, once considered a prodigy of her chosen dance form, Kagome faced daily the harsh reality of her fate. She had spent the first two months trying to remaster basic technique and form. Her turn out had been atrocious; she couldn't bend her body any which way she chose, and to make matters worse, she lacked strength. She had expected to struggle in the beginning, and did, but with a good deal of patience, she had returned to top form — almost.

Kagome lacked one skill. Whenever she would rise to point on her right leg in an arabesque or in attitude, her ankle would give out and she would fall. At first, her instructors had encouraged her to keep trying, reminding her of the damage to the limb and that she just needed to get back into shape. A few weeks ago, though, they had finally given up on her. One teacher's words replayed every time she crumpled to the floor: "I'm sorry, Kagome, but you no longer have a future as a dancer."

The college sophomore — err repeat sophomore — stopped attending formal classes after that. If her teachers and mentors couldn't help her, she had decided she would help herself. She spent every waking moment not devoted to class or doing homework in studio four at the west end of the arts building. No handicap would sideline her dreams; she would prove them wrong.

Kagome slapped the floor with the palms of her hands once more. She wiped away the tears from her cheeks and marched over to the CD player. She restarted her music, took first position and began the routine again. Surely, she was meant for something more than this failed existence. Why else would she have lived? Why else would _he_ have saved her?

———

A few hours later, Kagome marched up the hall to her dorm room. A pair of gray sweats covered her black tights and leotard. Her dance bag hung from her shoulder. Her black hair was pulled back neatly into a horsetail. But the strangest part of her ensemble was the silk scarf around her neck. When she dressed in a skirt and blouse, no one seemed to pay attention to her little accessory. But the adornment hardly went with her sweats, and that always brought her stares between the arts building and her dorm room. The girl didn't mind though. She'd rather they stare at blue silk than the scars that stretched down the side and front of her throat.

Kagome fumbled with her keys and then pushed the door open haphazardly. She dropped the bag, shut the door and then marched over to her bed and flopped, landing on her backside. She huffed loudly as she stared at the ceiling.

"Rough day?"

Kagome rolled her neck to face the opposite side of the room. Her best friend was stretched out on the bed across from hers. Sango's legs were bent at the knees, swinging back and forth in the air while she read a magazine. The movement was usually accompanied by a rhythmic rock beat pouring from her headphones, but tonight Sango's natural tempo inspired her movements.

"I'm such a failure," Kagome finally expressed, letting her exasperation seep forth. The dancer let out another huff that set her bangs fluttering.

Sango rolled to her side and supported her head with her hand. With the other, she flipped the recent edition of _Masters_ magazine closed. Kagome needed her more than she needed to read about the top competitors in her chosen sport, the martial arts — specifically Judo. As the girl's closest friend, Sango's duty was to cheer up the dancer when she insisted on 'gloom and doom' instead of 'sunshine and roses.' The latter described the young woman accurately; at least it did before the fighter nearly got them both killed in a car accident. "Kags, you're not a failure, but perhaps you should start thinking of alternatives." She cringed over her last few words, waiting for Kagome's verbal tirade to follow.

"I don't want alternatives, Sango. I want …" Kagome's voice cracked, making her sound a touch whiney, instead of adamant. She turned her attention to the ballet poster on her wall. The image of the swan from the Matthew Bourne production of _Swan Lake_ was one of her favorites.* Her father had taken her to see the 'modernized' rendition of the tale while they were in London. The lead dancer had completely stolen the heart of the ten-year-old girl. It was his performance that solidified her desire to be a classical dancer. She dreamed it, lived it. Now, it felt like the world held her back. The door to her dreams had been slammed in her face and locked for good measure. Rightly so, Kagome felt frustrated, even betrayed by her body. She wasn't ready to give it up though. "Ballet is what I love." She sighed. "I just cannot see myself doing anything else with my life."

Sango sat up on the bed, resting her back against the wall. She crossed her legs. "I understand how you feel, Kags; you know I'd be lost if I couldn't fight, but think of it this way." She waited a split second to emphasize what she was about to say. "Our chosen path through life isn't necessarily the one road we're meant to walk. You are a dancer at heart and in your soul, Kagome Higurashi. So stop limiting yourself. You can do a lot with what you have, even if it doesn't include prima ballerina in a major company."

Kagome growled in frustration. She grabbed her blue-cased pillow and covered her face with it. Her pale hands gripped it tightly. She felt like smothering herself in the midst of her frustration. "I know you're right, Sango," her muffled voice confessed. She tossed the pillow aside, but still held it with one hand. "I guess I'm just not ready to give up on my dreams. Why should one stupid night, one stupid accident ruin my life?" She jerked her arm, smacking the pillow she gripped against the pale-blue wall.

"Because that's how quickly lives change," Sango whispered. The memories of the accident still haunted her. Other than the bright light just before impact, the fighter didn't remember the accident. What plagued her thoughts were the after images of Kagome lying in her hospital bed, unable to speak, barely able to breathe, and the sounds of the heart monitor blipping away in her ears. Her best friend had been destroyed because of her carelessness. It was for that reason Sango wanted her to succeed, to still become that prima. However, as her best friend, she also felt the need to encourage the younger woman to pursue other endeavors.

"He should have just left me," Kagome muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling again. Sometimes she wondered if she would be happier in the afterlife than here on Earth unable to do the things she loved most. She jumped when a pillow with a pink case smacked her right in the face. She brushed off the attack and glared at the other woman. "What was that for?" she demanded, but shrank back as Sango rose to her feet with a murderous expression on her face.

The older woman's hands were perched upon her hips. Her legs were spread apart in the customary fighter's stance that somehow found its way into her everyday movement. "Kagome, if I ever hear you say anything like that again I'll, I'll, I'll …" She spat out through gritted teeth. A menacing fire burned in her eyes.

Kagome pursed her lips, felling rebuked. She sat up, kicking her legs off the side of the bed. "I'm sorry, Sango. I didn't mean it," she said softly. Sango and her boyfriend, Miroku, had visited her faithfully the long months she was in the hospital. Friends were always something Kagome believed she had in abundance, but the accident proved to her the real worth of friendship.

"Then don't you ever say that again," Sango ordered. Her stance relaxed. It angered her when Kagome spoke like she had nothing to live for. They both had plenty to live for. Perhaps someday Kagome would realize it as well.

"I won't. You have my word," Kagome promised as she rose to her feet. She wrapped her arms around the other woman. "Besides," she whispered in Sango's ear. "Who am I to argue with fate?" She pulled away, keeping her hands on the fighter's shoulders. She flashed a radiant smile. "Why don't you call Miroku?" she suggested. "We can all go grab some dinner; maybe a drink. I think we both could use a little fun."

A single brow lifted above Sango's right eye. Her friend's illusion of happiness never fooled her. She sighed, letting go of her worries. At least Kagome tried to be happy. "Fine, let's get cleaned up and then I'll see if Miroku can meet us." Going out wasn't high on Sango's to-do list, but an evening with the 'old' Kagome was bound to be full of laughs.

_*Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake is a ballet-influenced contemporary dance loosely based on the Russian classical ballet. It was one of the longest-running ballets in London's West End and has toured worldwide. Although the cast has obviously changed for tours in the decade-plus since Bourne choreographed it, the poster on Kagome's wall is of dancer Will Kemp in the lead role. The poster was also in the 2008 movie "Step Up 2 The Streets," which Kemp was in as Director Blake Collins. The swan poster in the school is the actual Bourne production image from Kemp's run in the lead. And yes, it's one of my favorite dance images. Although, ballet-wise Bourne's 'The Car Man' is my favorite contemporary work. Also, I'm not a dancer, just a humble writer and lover of the arts._


	3. Have We Met?

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior**

**Chapter Three: Have we met?**

Steam wafted from the manholes running the length of the street. The gray-cloud matter twisted and swirled with the slight breeze before dissipating into the dark-cloaked sky. Specks of light dotted the void above, but the Tokyo lights washed out all but the brightest points. Only hours before, not even those heavenly lights shown through the thunderheads that rocked the city with continuous rumbles. The streetscape was still damp from the last release. Puddles pooled along the concrete walks. A shoe occasionally landed in the dark pools, forcing the liquid to leap forth from its settlement.

The only location not dotted with more pools than America's Great Lakes region was under the awning that covered the front entrance and a good portion of the side of the _Seven_ building. The club, located in Hachioji City, always boded an array of cliental. From college students to starlets and VIPS, _Seven_ catered to them all with its large dance floor, killer DJs, plush seating areas, and that was just for starters. Several nights a week, it boasted live bands from every genre, usually engaged in battle for the right to rule the _Seven_ stage on Friday night.

A line of people stretched the full length of the awning and halfway around the backside of the building. At the front of the boisterous crowd, a girl with long black hair moved to the sound of the bass emanating through the walls. The ends of those strands gently tickled her shoulders as she moved from side-to-side. Her back was exposed, except where several strings wrapped her lithe form to secure the halter top she donned. The triangle-shaped fabric came to a point just below her belly button.

Covering a pair of narrow hips that moved like a bell in a belfry was a black leather mini skirt. The skirt stood in stark contrast to the creamy legs that extend from it. The only detraction from her beautiful, goddess-like appendages was the surgical scar on the outside of her right leg at the ankle. Capping off the girl's outfit was a pair of black, Mary Jane-style flats and a blue, silk scarf that hid a long, swan-like neck and the scars that marred its flesh.

"Kagome!" The dancing figure turned and smiled at her addresser. The brunette was dressed a bit more conservatively in a black, sleeveless gown. The light-weight fabric hugged every inch of her curvy form, and she had added a little splash of pink with a necklace that double-looped around her neck and two pink, open-toed high-heeled shoes. At her side stood a man a head taller than she with his arm casually draped across her shoulders. "We're not even in the club yet!" Sango reminded.

"Soooo," the dancer returned. The smile on her face grew wider. She gracefully spun around, moving to the commands of the beat. Head bobbing, body swaying, hips shaking, Kagome was ready to hit the floor and just let all of her pent up frustrations out. Dancing freed her soul.

Sango threw back her head and laughed. Her body began to move in the face of Kagome's infectious happiness. She wiggled a bit against the man next to her, before looking up to gaze into his purplish-blue eyes. "Now that's the old Kagome," Sango reflected happily.

"We should do this more often then," Miroku returned. His eyes drifted from those of his girlfriend to the wiggling figure in front of him. A smirk rose on his face as he watched her dance.

"Lech, if you don't take your eyes off of my best friend …" Sango warned. She grabbed the front of his purple button-down shirt, which hung loosely over a pair of black jeans. Her smile had washed away as quickly as his eyes had diverted to Kagome and back to her again.

"My dearest, I am only admiring how gracefully our dear Kagome moves," Miroku defended in an innocent tone. He then proffered a charming smile. He held the expression until Sango released his shirt and he felt her relax against his side once more. It was then he leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth in a simple, brief gesture of affection. As he pulled away, he kept his face close to hers, gazing at her lovingly. "You know you're my only," he whispered.

Sango blushed but otherwise ignored the compliment. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the still-dancing Kagome. The girl apparently had opted to ignore the little exchange between her best friend and the lecher. After all, Kagome had known Miroku and Sango since high school; nothing Sango's man did or said surprised their younger friend anymore. "Kags, you know if this takes any longer, we'll have five minutes before the DJ stops spinning?"

Still dancing, Kagome twirled around. Her eyelids covered her chocolate orbs. A thin layer of blue and silver shimmer adorned the soft tissue. "We're almost to the front of the line, Sango," she pointed out. Her eyes popped open, fluttering the long, black lashes. "And then we'll dance; Miroku will buy us drinks; and I promise not to 'gloom and doom' about ballet and my ankle for a week."

"Wait, what?" Miroku interjected before Sango could respond. He released his girlfriend and took a step toward the dancer. As he did, the line moved, and the couple directly in front of the ballerina was allowed into the club.

Kagome stopped her movement. Her hands settled on her hips, and a stern look crossed her delicate features. "Oh, I know you heard me," Kagome said darkly, and then smiled sweetly. "Besides, it's the least you can do after staring at my butt for the last half hour." With that, her eyes closed and her body started moving once more.

"I — was — not!" Miroku protested. His eyes bugged as if he was actually shocked over Kagome's statement. They only popped more when he heard his beloved laughing.

"Oh don't even try to deny it, Houshi," Sango countered between each expression of her amusement. "She's had you pegged for years."

The man tried to feign innocent again, and then gave Sango his best impression of a wounded animal. "I have no idea what you mean, my dear," he said flatly.

Sango took his hand in hers and squeezed it affectionately. She smiled lovingly. He made her so angry sometimes, but it didn't change the fact that she loved him. "I'm sure you don't, but you're still buying us drinks."

Miroku lifted Sango's hand and pressed his lips to its backside. "Anything for you," he told her tenderly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the bouncer dropping the rope in front of Kagome and signaling for them to go inside. "But I hope you'll keep into account that I am just a poor medical student." He wrapped his arm around Sango as they followed Kagome into the club.

"Yes, but when you're Doctor Houshi, you can easily pay off all those bills you ran up while in medical school," Sango countered. She batted her eyelashes. "I'm going to dance with Kags. Find us a place to sit?" She leaned up and kissed him before he could answer, and then slipped away into the sea of bodies filling the dance floor.

———

A wave of heat struck Kagome in the face as she entered _Seven_. The salty scent of sweat mixed with the sickly sweet smell of alcohol hung in the air. The exterior walls were wrapped with a loft balcony that boded the lavish seating lounges and the VIP section. The railings overlooked the dance floor that was currently flooded with moving figures that could have just as easily been demons from her grandfather's fairy tales as people. The dim lights and flashing colored strobes combined with the effects of a fog machine diminished her ability to really take in the finer details of the club.

But who cared about the patterns on the upholstery when the siren song of the music called her to the floor? The pounding of a kick drum flooded from the speakers. Its rhythm continued even as the techno beat rose slightly to accent the track's original sound. Kagome weaved through the crowd to the center of the floor. Her head started to move as she felt the harmonic waves, and quickly her body followed suit. She kept her eyes closed as she let the music intoxicate her. At first, when she'd stretch out her arms and take a step, she could feel the proximity of the people around her. But as years of formal training let go to artistic interpretation, she found that she had more room to just let it all flow.

Feeling a hand brush her, Kagome opened her eyes but kept moving. Sango stood beside her and then fell in step with the younger woman's movements. Although Kagome was definitely the better dancer, the girls had been to enough clubs that the martial artist could keep up with her — at least when it came to modern dance. The girls continued to work the middle of the room, dancing like no one was watching. As they did, Kagome could feel her worries slipping away with each fade to a new song.

Twenty minutes later, Kagome's stamina had not waivered. Beads of sweat made her exposed flesh glisten every time a strobe swept over her. The girl was positively otherworldly to anyone who laid eyes on her, including her best friend and the man watching her from across the room.

Sango grabbed Kagome's arm. "I'm going to find Miroku, get something to drink," she shouted above the pounding tempo.

Kagome nodded and let the music take her away once more.

Another song and then one more passed before Kagome felt overheated. The scarf at her throat was beginning to bother her and made it hard to breathe in the stifling heat of the room. She stopped to take a deep breath. Her hand fanned her face as she pushed her way off the floor toward the edge of the room. She looked around for Miroku and Sango, but couldn't see them in the dim light.

Kagome patrolled the edges slowly, dodging around people when her course was interrupted by a large, congregating group. Her friends had disappeared, at least from the first level. She headed for the one of the narrow staircases that lead up to the lounge area. The people milling around talked and laughed loudly, adding to the chaos of noise in the room. It was enough to overload anyone's senses.

"Hey," she heard a voice from behind her just as she reached the base of the stairwell. The young woman turned around, trying to find the source of the address. As she spun, two hands roughly grabbed her arms just above her elbows and forced her back against the wall in the shadows of the balcony. She squealed, frightened by the sudden attack.

"Heeey, I saw y-you dancin'," the man slurred. "You're pretty good. D-do you come here often?"

"I-I," Kagome stammered. Every nerve in her body tingled with fear in the face of her assailant. If it wasn't for his intoxicated state, she might have even been taken with the handsome face and light blue eyes. But, given the circumstances, he appalled her. "Please let me go," she instead asked politely. The girl was rarely ever rude, even in circumstances such as these.

"Oh-h, don't be like that. Y-you could be-e my wo-woman-n. M-my name's-s Koga." He let go of one of her arms and ran his fingers along her jaw line, and then brushed the backs of his fingers along the silk scarf at her neck. They immediately moved to remove the garment. "You're too pre-tty to wear something like …" he paused. "… this."

Kagome's dark eyes widened in horror when she realized what he was about to do. Forgetting etiquette, she smacked his hand away. "Leave me alone," she said coolly, and then tried to brush past him. He immediately grabbed her and slammed against the wall.

"N-no need to b-be rude," Koga said menacingly. His eyes narrowed like a predator in the face of its prey. "J-just one dance."

"Get off of me!" she yelled. She struggled against his grip, but the more she tried to free herself, the tighter the vice on her arms became. "Leave me alone!"

"I-said-one-dance!" Koga demanded in a volume to match hers. He growled.

Kagome's body trembled in fear. She had never been so ill-treated by a man in her life. It infuriated her, but also scared her into submission. She wanted to scream, to yell and to cause a ruckus to draw anyone's attention. Helpless, she cringed as his hand once more patrolled her face. She closed her eyes and wished he'd go away.

As quickly as she made the wish, she felt the pressure of his body against hers dissipate. Her eyelids popped open and Kagome let out a short scream in surprise. Her assailant was pinned to the wall beside her. "I believe the lady said, no, Matsuno!" a menacing voice growled. Koga dangled by the throat from the end of the man's arm. The dancer quickly stepped out of the way. Her arms hugged her tiny form.

"Butt out, Narita," Koga snarled.

The man called _Narita_ tossed the drunk to the floor. _Narita_ was lean and tall, sporting a red t-shirt and a pair of dark, ragged jeans — much too informal for a club of _Seven_'s caliber. "I think I'd rather kick your _ass_ again," _Narita_ barked back.

Kagome put some more distance between her and the men. Not far away, the bouncers forced their way through the mess of people, en route to the disturbance.

"You wish, Narita," Koga countered. He jumped to his feet and took a swing at the man just a fraction shorter than he was.

The newcomer dodged the punch. He grabbed Koga by the arm when the drunk went off balance. He used the momentum to flip him and slam him hard on the floor. He twisted the assailant's arm and put a black and red stripped Adidas at the man's throat. "What does this make now?" _Narita_ asked sarcastically. "Ten or eleven, Matsuno?"

The man on the floor howled with anger. A string of curses ushered forth, all directed at Kagome's newfound savior. _Narita_ held Koga to the floor until the bouncers arrived, and then begrudgingly dragged him up and shoved him at the club employees.

"You all right, Yash?" one of the men asked. _Yash_ shrugged in response.

Kagome's heart settled in the aftermath of the fight. She touched her savior's arm gently, hoping to express her sincere thanks for his intervention. Her lips parted to speak, only to close quickly. As he turned his head to face her, the ability to breathe left her. Long, dark hair framed a handsome face, but what really struck her was the pair of golden eyes glaring at her. They mesmerized her, spoke to her of a faded memory or perhaps a forgotten dream. Her heart pounded against her breastbone as she tried to recall where she had seen those amber jewels. "Thank — thank you," she finally said. Her voice was barely loud enough to be heard above the music.

"Feh, whatever," he said dismissively. He rolled his eyes before walking off and into the sea of bodies.

Kagome stood dumbfounded over his dismissal for a moment, but quickly found her voice. "Hey wait!" she called, advancing on the man who had saved her from the drunk. "Have we — have we met before?" she asked when she caught up to him. _'How do I know him?'_ she wondered in the mist of her inquiry.

He turned on her like a dog about to bite, and snapped, "No."

That one simple word dripped with enough disdain to aggravate Kagome, but she wasn't going to give up. She had to know who he was and how she knew him. The answer rested within his golden orbs. "It's just that, your eyes …" she tried to explain. "I …"

"Keh, you're a weird one," he interrupted. His brow furrowed in annoyance. "I don't have time for drunken club hoppers, particularly one who cannot take care of herself, and spouts cheesy pick-up lines. Oh, your eyes …" he mocked at the end, and then scoffed to emphasize his disdain.

Kagome's eyes widened. She wasn't drunk. She hadn't even managed to get her drink out of Miroku yet. His assumptions made her growl. "I'm not —" she began, flustered by handsome man's errant glares. "I wasn't trying to pick you up and I'm not drunk, you jerk!" she yelled, but it was too late. _Yash Narita_ had retreated into the safety of the club's packed expanse. "Arghhh!" she screamed, scattering the people around her.

———

From the office window on the second floor, _Yash Narita_ scrutinized the swaying crowd below. Night after night, he watched the floor of _Seven_ fill, and night after night, he wondered how people could lead such meaningless lives and frivolously engage in meaningless activities as if it really mattered in the grand scheme of the universe. They irritated him to the point of madness. How could people be so abominably exuberant all the time? Granted the alcohol helped wash away their sorrows, if only for a night; even he found comfort in a drink when his mind would dwell on the wretchedness of the human existence. It helped him shake it off and to once more remember that he really didn't care about the lemmings below or the other problems of the world. He was untouchable behind his emotional walls.

He let out a low growl, annoyed that he had gotten involved in the squabble downstairs. But several factors drove him to act. First, he couldn't stand Koga Matsuno, and he was certain the only reason the owner hadn't barred the troublemaker was to keep the bouncers on their toes. Second, he just loved a good fight. And finally, there was something about the girl, who in a matter of seconds had gotten under his skin. She was the lemming he watched now from above.

She sat at the bar, sipping on heaven-only-knew what, but he was certain it was _girly_. Her free arm waved as she spoke to a man and a woman. He couldn't make out their faces from the angle, but could tell whatever she told them left them shocked. They shook their heads, occasionally clenched a fist and hit the bar top, or gestured wildly with their drink hands as they responded.

A part of him wanted to go back downstairs and apologize for his rude behavior. But mostly, he wanted to know the name of the woman completely testing his ice man façade and dared to resemble _her_.

He sighed heavily.

Behind him, the entrance to the office opened. A young man with short black hair and radiant blue eyes slipped through it. He donned a business suit, complete with a blue silk shirt and a white tie tucked into a slickly cut vest. He approached the figure lost in thought and held out a glass tumbler filled a third of the way with a caramel-colored liquor. "Isn't today your day off, Inuyasha?" he asked and took a sip off his own glass.

Inuyasha snorted in response. He took a long draw off the whiskey, before actually coming up with a dignified response. "Nothing else to do," he said flatly.

"So you come in on your night off," the well-dressed man began. He paused to take a drink. "And start a fight?"

Inuyasha shifted his body weight to face the other man. He crammed his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. "I didn't start a fight, Bankotsu. That jerk Koga was harassing some girl — as usual. Why do you keep letting that Neanderthal through the doors, huh? He always causes trouble!" He snorted in disdain.

"Kind of like a certain bouncer that works here …" Bankotsu let the words linger.

Inuyasha glared; it had become his typical response to everything in life. "Keh, well if my services aren't needed …"

"I didn't say that," the club owner countered. "You're one of the best fighters I've ever had work for me, Inuyasha. In fact, I still remember the Kyoto tournament when …"

"I really don't want to discuss Kyoto or anything related to it," he interrupted. That was part of his former life, before everything had gone to hell; he preferred to just let the memories die.

Bankotsu smirked. He had known Inuyasha for several years now. He knew him _before_, but it was the _after_ that served him quite well at his club on a nightly basis; he often wondered how long it would be before the past came back to bite Inuyasha in the backside. "Well, then perhaps we should discuss that little piece of heaven I saw you talking to?" He nudged Inuyasha's arm. "Quite a looker. I could have one of the boys bring her up if you want to continue your conversation with her?"

"Feh, she's weird."

Bankotsu rolled his eyes. "Uh, she's hot. So that matters why?" He downed the rest of the whiskey.

"She said something about my eyes." Inuyasha rolled his shoulders. A shiver rolled down his spine. He was still trying to process her comments and couldn't decide if he had overreacted _(as usual)_ or if the comment just gave him the creeps. "I mean come on, not even a guy would get away with that old cheesy pick-up line."

The businessman studied his companion, trying to decide what exactly about the encountered bothered his friend. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't have hesitated to _enchant_ the young woman with several lines of his own. Intimacy always scared his friend though; it had since _then_.

Bankotsu chuckled as a wicked thought crossed his mind. He wrapped his arm around Inuyasha's shoulders in a rather awkward embrace. He batted his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Well, you always did have such lovely eyes, Yash," he teased. His voice raised half an octave to give it a feminine quality.

Inuyasha nearly choked on his whiskey. He shrugged his shoulders and shoved Bankotsu aside. "You're sick, man, and I don't even think that defines what is wrong with you." The bouncer rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Yes, I am," the owner countered, taking no insult in his friend's tone. "But, I think the real question is: which of us is sicker? I'm not the one that passed up a fine-looking female on my night off to brood up here in the office."

To that, Inuyasha had no response.


	4. A Year Ago Today

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Four: A year ago today**

Although predominately an urban campus with concrete walkways and towering academic buildings, the Tokyo University grounds still offered a sense of peace and serenity for those knowing where to look. Near the back end of the campus, beyond the congested streets and mêlée of people, and not too far from the tennis courts, a body could find a place to rest and ease her weary mind.

Beneath the cherry trees blossoming under a crisp blue sky, Kagome lay on her back, staring up at the heavens. The birds danced above her in the mating rituals of spring; their evanescent song mingled with the orchestra of life that dared call TU home. It calmed the soul, although did not brighten the woman's mood.

Faded memories haunted Kagome's dreams, filling her mind with pictures of golden eyes and blood-soaked hands. More than once over the past week, the dancer woke in terror. Her damaged vocal chords hit notes she never thought she'd strike again in the midst of her fits. Sweat had covered her pale skin; her body had shaken uncontrollably; and her heart had raced as if she had just finished an intense workout.

The first few nights, Kagome had been fortunate. Sango had been in Kyoto for a judo tournament with the TU women's team, and thus had been spared the violent screams of her roommate. Unfortunately for the fighter, the older woman had returned _home_ the night before. Fate did not spare the ballerina like it had the previous evening. Her terror-stricken pleas for help woke the brunette out of a dead sleep. Kagome had escaped her nightmare to find Sango rocking her gently, smoothing the back of her damp hair. All Kagome could do was cry in the comfort of her arms.

After the accident, such nightmares plagued her for months. They weren't always blood-soaked scenes or images of stunning amber eyes. There were glimpses of doctors, her mother and brother, Sango and Miroku, and the sounds of a heart monitor and a respirator. The images confused Kagome, frightened her. Each dream felt like a piece of a puzzle she was forced to work without ever seeing the overall picture.

Today, she wanted to see the portrait of that brief period in her life. She wanted to see the face of the man who had saved her, and ask him why he dragged her from the wreckage. However, her mind had locked away those memories, save the image of golden eyes and a series of whispered words before he kissed her cheek.

Could she even be sure of those recollections? No. In truth, she didn't know what was real anymore. She wasn't even sure what had awoken those slumbering images.

She had known for the past month the anniversary was approaching, like a thunderstorm ruining a perfectly good day, but the dancer chose not to dwell on it. That was, of course, until the day finally arrived.

One year ago today, a car accident ruined her life.

Kagome took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant scent of the cherry blossoms floating around her. In her place of peace and tranquility, the place she used to dream all of her routines and plan her future, she had arrived at a decision: She _would_ find the man who saved her life.

After being released from the hospital, Kagome had broached the subject with Sango and Miroku, and they had nixed it before the first sentence fully crossed her lips. The judo fighter and medical student believed in moving forward, which meant focusing on the present, not the past. She had followed their advice and pushed through each day anew. She was now to her former glory, except that _minor_ dilemma with her right ankle. She still held hope in her heart, despite what everyone told her, and she would so long as she attended the TU classical dance program.

The dancer sighed and sat up. She rested her back against the trunk of the tree and then dusted off the blossoms from her chest and legs. With a singular grace and eloquence, she rose to her full, lanky height and followed the walkway back toward her dorm.

Her bus for Hachioji City left in an hour.

———

Two hours later, Kagome stepped off the bus in the outskirts of Hachioji City. A chill coursed through her body. It was the same sensation she had that night while riding in Sango's Mirage on this very stretch of thoroughfare. The neighborhood wasn't much better by the light of day or even a year later. It was rough, run down and forgotten, much like the poor souls who begged money from her as she walked down the busy sidewalk. Periodically, she'd pass a coin, but quickly ceased such actions when others in need swarmed the student.

"I'm sorry, sorry," she apologized, as she escaped the sea of bodies extending their hands. Her heart bled for them.

It wasn't much farther that Kagome came to halt. She sat down on a bench and just watched the traffic and people roll by. This was the place, the very spot her life forever changed. Her hands shook as buried memories replayed. She closed her eyes.

'_Kami, Kami, Kami,' she thought. 'Please, please let me make it!' Kagome gritted her teeth. Her dark orbs focused on the equally dark exterior of her friend's car. She hated silence when she was apprehensive, but Sango's death-grip on the steering wheel recommended remaining so._

_Kagome cringed as a dark vehicle pulled out in front of the Mirage. Her hand clung to the handle on the door, giving the dancer a false sense of security. It was hard enough to see without another car cutting off the little Mitsubishi. Add that to the fact that they were lost and she was about to miss her audition, Kagome felt ready to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves._

_After a block, she released her death-like vice on the door handle. They were almost to the gas station; they would ask for directions; and then she'd be off to some fantastic place for the next decade ... if she received an offer, and if she decided not to finish school. Today was the main event for the rest of her life. Her body relaxed at such happy thoughts._

_That's when she saw it, a pair of headlights rushing up a side street. The truck's light was red, yet the vehicle lost no momentum as it approached the intersection, came past the white line, into the crossroad and …_

"_Sango, watch out" Kagome screamed. She braced for impact._

Kagome's breath caught in her throat. Every time a memory returned, it was like the accident just happened. Her body physically reacted, as if shocked all over again. She let out the breath choking her, releasing the negative image with the exhalation. One vision at a time, she'd get over this trauma and find _his_ face.

Her long, black lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. The pulse of the city still beat around her. She didn't expect time to stand still or suddenly find answers to all her life's questions. She hadn't even anticipated remembering the brief minute before the collision, but it was a start, a way to keep moving forward.

Noting the waning light in the western sky, Kagome stood up and brushed off her wrap skirt that covered a pair of three-quarter leggings. She zipped up her fitted hoodie, and situated the small bag slung over her left shoulder. Her chin lifted, and as it did, she caught of something across the street and immediately did a double take. Pushing against oncoming bodies was a man she recognized.

Kagome licked her lips while watching the figure. By the light of day, the man known to her as Yash Narita looked positively devilish, yet divine. Long, black hair fell over his shoulders and down his back. He wore a pair of dark denim jeans, a black t-shirt with a black and red leather motorcycle jacket hanging open. Sango would have dubbed him the quintessential bad boy, and maybe the fighter would have been right. But there was something about him that made her want to follow, just like last week in the club.

Instead of heading back up the way she came to catch the bus back to TU, she crossed the busy street with a thick hoard of people and followed the young man a few years older than she. He dodged between bodies, seemingly in a hurry, and more than once, Kagome almost lost her subject in the mess.

Kagome picked up her pace when he turned a corner. She slipped into an alleyway with laundry swaying in the breeze above her head to find … nothing. She knitted her brow, confused. "I could have sworn …" she mumbled, talking to herself.

The dancer meandered down the narrow stretch, making one last veiled attempt in finding the stranger. She reached the end, and to her dismay, the alley had no outlet. "Where?" she wondered aloud, and then scoffed in annoyance. Narita had to have come down here; she saw him turn this way and people just didn't disappear.

She spun around on the balls of her foot, the way only a dancer would. When she finished her about-face, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Kagome shrieked as someone grabbed her arms right above her elbows. Her arms flailed, forcing him to release her. Her foot gave when she stepped back in retreat. Before she could catch herself, the dancer landed, rather ungracefully, on her rear at the feet of Yash Narita.

"You have got to be joking," Yash shot in a humorless tone. He glared down at the woman and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Ouch," Kagome expelled. She rubbed her back side with one of her hands. "You could be a gentleman and help me up," she continued, ignoring his angry expression. _'What was with this guy?'_

Yash rolled his eyes and squatted down before her. He put his face in hers, invading her space without a second thought. "Why are you following me?"

Kagome's cheeks flushed pink. Her palms flattened on the ground behind her, supporting her weight as she drew back from him. The stranger was uncomfortably close and he made her heart flutter with his proximity. "I — I just wanted to …" She paused and swallowed hard when he narrowed his eyes farther. "I recognized you from the club last week. I just wanted to thank you."

He leaned forward a bit more, smirking when she jumped slightly. "You thanked me last week …"

That was true. She had thanked him, however awkward the attempt. "I'm sorry. It's just that you seemed really familiar to me, and I see now that you couldn't possibly be who I thought you were, and … your … eyes …" Kagome rambled off quickly. '_Why is he making me so nervous?'_

Yash relaxed a bit and eased off the woman. Black brows knitted. "Feh, I really don't care, Princess."

Kagome's head shook in annoyance. She gritted her teeth and then huffed in dismay. "Feh? Is that even Japanese?"

Yash growled, but otherwise chose not to respond to the insolent wench. Instead, he rose up to his full height and left the girl behind.

"Hey!" Kagome called. She shifted her weight on her hands, trying to get to her feet, and immediately regretted the action. "Ouch!" she yelled and then clutched her wounded appendage, cradling it. Blood trickled from a gash that stretched across her palm and quickly covered the upright surface.

Hearing her protests, Yash turned around. His shoulders sagged as he sighed, and his golden orbs rolled. Reluctantly, he returned to his now-wounded stalker. He squatted back down. "Why do I get the feeling that wherever you go, trouble follows?" he asked rhetorically. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to Kagome, who quickly pressed the red fabric square to the cut. He then grabbed her gently by the elbows and pulled her to her feet.

Kagome gasped in surprised at the sudden action. She held her breath; her heart beat like a tribal drum. She slowly lifted her chin to look up at the man who stood more than a head taller than she. His eyes blazed like the sun in the waning light of day. "I think it has something to do with you," she returned softly. "Because I only seem to get into trouble when you're around." A smile tickled at the edges of her lips.

Yash smirked. "Then stop following me, Wench."

Whatever amusement Kagome found in the situation dissipated at the use of that name. Her expressive eyes came to life, flickering with the fiery anger also coursing her veins. "Wench!" she barked and then pulled free from his grasp. "I have a name and it sure isn't _wench_!"

Momentarily taken back, Yash wasn't sure how to deal with the fiery vixen, who looked ready to kill. "Then what is it?" he said slowly, calmly. He crossed his arms across his chest once more and kept a firm ground.

The simple response left Kagome speechless. Given his rudeness thus far, she had half expected a rather inarticulate and equally crude response. "It's —" she faltered. "My name is Kagome. Kagome Higurashi." She paused again, waiting for him to offer his. When he didn't, the dancer continued rather irritably, "You're Yash Narita, right? I heard the bouncers at the club …"

"Inuyasha, actually," he corrected, "But Yash is fine." His brilliant eyes scanned her up and down. He smirked once more when he saw her twitch under his gaze, but the expression faded when he caught sight of her wounded hand. "Come on," he ordered and then started to walk off.

"Come where?" Kagome called; a hint of defiance laced her words. She wasn't about to be ordered around, especially by a stranger. Her feet remained firmly planted.

"To my place," he called over his shoulder, not bothering to stop or deal with her non-cooperation. He would recognize her posture, even if her tone hadn't given her nature away. Years of fighting had taught him many things.

Her tiny feet began to move, double-stepping to catch up to him. "Why would I go there? I don't even know you?" Her black locks swished as she glanced up at him.

Inuyasha didn't even bother to look at her. "That didn't stop you from following," he said rather pointedly. "And in case it escaped your attention, you're still bleeding, Stupid."

Kagome growled and narrowed her eyes. "You are the rudest jerk I think I've ever met." She lifted the handkerchief to examine the wound as they walked. Seeing the oozing fluid, she pressed it back and closed her fingers around the fabric.

"Good, then maybe you'll stop stalking me," he retorted dryly. Inuyasha turned up another alley and then headed up a metal staircase. His boots clanked rhythmically against the steal. When he reached the top, he pulled out a key and opened the locked door.

"I wasn't stalking you!" Kagome yelled as she climbed the stairs behind him. Her face glowed red with embarrassment and anger. The audacity of some people positively astounded her at times. Whatever happened to manners and common decency? The stranger lacked both.

Inuyasha stuck a finger in his ear, wiggling it back and forth. "Can you tone it down a bit, _Princess_? I'd like to keep my hearing at least until I'm dead." He gestured for her to enter the darkened apartment.

"That might come sooner rather than later, if you keep calling me princess," she muttered under her breath. Kagome glared one last time before crossing the threshold. Immediately, she stumbled over something in the dark, but kept her footing. She huffed in annoyance, wondering if this day could possibly get any worse.

Inuyasha flipped the light switch on the wall by the door. The soft fluorescent glow revealed a dingy, single room apartment. A shabby sofa set in the middle of the room, facing the door. Behind it, a box spring and mattress were pressed up against the off-white wall. The unmade bed had clothes scattered atop of the rumpled black comforter and crimson sheets. The wardrobe trailed off the bed to a pile in the corner that had been kicked too many times.

To the left of the door, a breakfast table was pushed up against the only window in the room with a single chair. Take out boxes were scattered across the top. To Kagome's right, a small bathroom could be seen through a door hanging slightly ajar. Unwashed bath towels draped over the top of the door. And strangely, at least to Kagome, he had no kitchen.

Kagome cringed. Clearly the place lacked a woman's touch, but the fact that it was worse than Miroku's apartment truly frightened her. She didn't think any place could be as uncleanly as the medical student's domain. "Great place you have here," she said evenly. The dancer glanced at her hand, wondering if it would be better to just keep the handkerchief on it until she got home or risk infection in this place.

Inuyasha shut the door and brushed past her, ignoring the flippant remark. He cleared a few magazines off the sofa, tossing them onto a scratched up coffee table. He picked up a few of the take out containers and haphazardly tossed some of his clothes into the pile in the corner. "Sorry, about the mess," he finally said. "I'm not usually here, except to sleep …" He turned back around. "Well, have a seat, _Princess_." He gestured to the couch and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Kagome rolled her chocolate orbs. "Would you please stop calling me that?" His nicknames for her were driving her insane. What was so hard about addressing her by her name? She wanted to shout it in his face until he got the point, but somehow she doubted that even then he'd respect her enough to utter those three little syllables.

She stopped in front of the couch and picked up several sweatshirts draped over the back of the furniture. She neatly folded them and put them on the back, before taking a seat. She dropped her bag on the floor close to her legs; her foot tapped nervously while she waited.

"I could, but where would the fun be in that?" the amber-eyed man asked as he wandered back through the apartment. In one hand, he carried a bottle of rubbing alcohol and the other a small first aid kit. He kicked several garments out of his path as he returned to her side. Inuyasha sat on the couch, alarmingly close in Kagome's opinion, and set the items on the coffee table before him. He twisted off the cap to the alcohol and flipped open the small, white box and pulled out a cotton ball. "Here, give me your hand." He reached for the wounded appendage.

Kagome jerked back, still annoyed with the man, and thus unwilling to let him help her. "I can do it." The dancer could be stubborn and defiant when she set her mind to it, and right now, she felt like being just that.

"Stop being a baby, Kagome," Inuyasha barked. He forcefully took her hand by grabbing her tiny wrist. "You'd think I was trying to kill you or something …" he mumbled.

The dancer tilted her head to the side, and finally smiled. Inuyasha had said her name. Granted, the tone left much to be desired, but he had said it nonetheless. He puzzled her. One minute, he could be so cold and distant, and then the next, he was so thoughtful. Granted this was only their second encounter; yet, she felt like she had known him her entire life. "Well, I don't know, you could be …" she teased.

"Keh."

Kagome wasn't sure what that meant, anymore than Inuyasha's 'Feh' remarks. Good or bad, the dark-haired man hadn't stopped cleaning the blood from her palm. "Thank you." It was all she could think to say, and silence … she never could handle uncomfortable silence.

When Inuyasha finished cleaning the blood away, he pulled out a strip of gauze. "It looks worse than it is," he told her nonchalantly, and then started wrapping her hand with the medical fabric. "In a few days, it'll be as good as new."

The tip of Kagome's pink tongue extended to gently swipe her lower lip as she watched him work. "You know, I wasn't trying to hit on you at the club," she said to break the silence. "I really thought we'd met before." With her good hand, the dancer fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

"Where?" Inuyasha asked after about thirty seconds. He rather liked silenced. It could be calm, even perfect if a person let it.

"What?" The question startled Kagome.

"Where did we meet?" He glanced up from his handiwork, and smiled at the patient. His beautiful eyes locked with hers.

Quickly, Kagome averted her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat. He smelled so good, like pine trees and soap. Most guys the ballerina dated smelled like heavy cologne or had a musk that just wasn't pleasing. There was something about him though that warmed her, and his handsome features were only part of it. _'Shake it off, Kagome,'_ she ordered silently. "I'm — I'm not sure. It was just a feeling."

Inuyasha grabbed a piece of medical tape to complete the wrap. "Finished. Just keep it clean until it heals and it should be fine," he told her. _'A feeling?'_ he wondered. He had the same feeling when he saw her at Seven, dancing in the middle of the club floor, spinning so beautiful, moving so gracefully …

Kagome's laughter interrupted his thoughts. "You sound like a doctor," she chirped.

Inuyasha shrugged, and then started to clean up his medical supplies. "In another life," he said simply. He withdrew from the woman and carried the items back to his closet-like bathroom.

The dancer fidgeted endlessly with her skirt; whatever this effect he had on her was, it made her entire body feel as if it had come alive. The nervous energy, at the same time, was maddening. "Get a grip, Kagome," she muttered, making sure the words weren't loud enough for her companion to hear from the other room.

When he emerged, Inuyasha went to a small wardrobe and pulled out a leather jacket and two motorcycle helmets. As he moved back toward her, Kagome noticed for the first time that he didn't walk like most guys. His swagger was cocky, yet light and graceful, as if he walked on air.

"Here, put this on." Inuyasha handed her the red leather motorcycle jacket. He ignored the fact her chocolate eyes were fixated on him, like a child fixated on candy.

"Why?" Kagome asked, taking the proffered object.

"I'll take you home," he stated. He tucked one of the helmets under his arm, and extended the other toward the dancer.

"I — I don't …"

"Would you just put it on and stop arguing with everything I say? I'm not letting a babe-in-arms like you walk around this neighborhood, especially after dark. Besides, from the looks of you, I doubt you live around the corner."

Taken back by his words — and the fact that it was the most he had said to her yet — Kagome shrugged into the leather jacket. "All right." The girl was average height, but only slightly more than petite, and his apparel came to her mid-thighs. She looked like a child playing dress up with a parent's wardrobe.

Inuyasha chuckled at the sight. "Where to?"

"Takahashi Hall on the Tokyo University campus." Kagome zipped up the front of the jacket. Her downcast eyes missed the man's cringe. She then reached down and picked up her bag.

"Great," he muttered, and then led his companion to the door, helmets in hand.


	5. Good or Bad?

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Five: Good or bad?**

The thump of bass could be heard a block away from the popular hotspot _Seven_. Its rhythmic pulse mingled with the roar of a motorcycle rolling up the roadway. The sleek red cruiser pulled into a side alley and rounded to the back of the vibrating structure. It came to a halt next to a dumpster and the four other employee cars lining the rear of the building.

A booted foot kicked the stand down. The bike's jean-clad rider let the bi-wheeled vehicle balance against the metal support before killing the engine and dismounting the Honda. His leather-clad hands pulled off the black helmet with red flames, letting a long, black ponytail fall out and down the man's back. He had pulled the bunch up into the helmet to keep it from whipping about. Usually, he didn't care, but at the last moment, he had decided that the woman riding with him wouldn't appreciate being hit in the face all the way to Tokyo University.

In only two brief encounters, the black-haired, doe-eyed angel had gotten under his skin. Kagome Higurashi had managed to irritate him beyond belief, yet the bouncer couldn't help the smile cresting his lips as he recalled her departing words: _'Fine, don't tell me how to find you. I'll figure it out myself!'_ He had almost missed them over the roar of his bike.

For the past year and half, Yash Narita had lived a life of anonymity. Not many people recognized the youngest son of one of Japan's richest and influential businessmen, especially since he offered people any other name than his family's and dyed his hair black instead of keeping his trademark platinum-blond hair — which he shared with his father and older brother.

He always hated the color growing up; it marked him as different in a country full of black-haired, brown-eyed citizens. There were days he would have done anything to blend with the crowd, to avoid paparazzi, tabloid reporters and just live a normal life out of the spotlight. His hair had been a beacon, making it nearly impossible to disappear.

Inuyasha had figured out, though, how to create a veiled existence after the accident that claimed the life of a dear one. He never carried a cell phone, he had no home phone, he hid his natural hair color and he never let anyone in. He built the façade of bouncer and bad-tempered tough guy to keep people at arm's length and cut off all contact with his friends and family, except for Bankotsu and his brother, Jakotsu. They knew exactly who he was.

But today, his shield had fallen when he met the little lemming from the week before. The shape of her face, the soulful eyes, that killer smile and the way she moved reminded him of someone from his past, someone special. He saw the _woman_ everywhere. She haunted him, and now, he saw _her_ in the little ballerina from TU. He had gathered that much about Kagome on their ride to the university.

The first night they met, he had thrown up his walls the moment Kagome had spoken to him. He wanted to hate the maiden, to cast her aside and just keep going — and he had after saving her from Koga. But fate being cruel — or in some eyes kind — the dancer had found him again today on the streets near his shabby dwelling.

Inuyasha had been gruff; he wanted to just leave her in the dust, but instead, he had taken her home. He had even tried to throw back up his walls when Kagome had asked him if he had a cell number and if she could see him again. Instead, a part of him wished he had a digital leash once more just so he could talk to her. The thought disturbed him, so he had countered with a half-shrug and an 'if you can find me.' Honestly, he wondered if she would follow through with her threat. Secretly, Inuyasha hoped she would.

The bouncer tucked his helmet under his arm. He then pulled out a card key from his wallet and slid the magnetized plastic through the reader. The backdoor to _Seven_ popped open. He slipped through the portal and down the back security hallway to the elevator with his light, cocky swagger. He slid the key again and the doors opened with a ding. He took the lift to the second floor and headed for Bankotsu's office, where he kept a change of clothes and 'emergency' items. Without so much as a knock, he slipped into the dimly lit room and headed straight for a one of the floor-to-ceiling cabinets that lined the left wall.

"You're late," Bankotsu greeted. The businessman sat behind his desk, sipping on a tumbler of whiskey and reading through paperwork. The soft glow of a modern-looking desk lamp illuminated the area.

"Feh, like you care," Inuyasha retorted. He dropped the helmet on Bankotsu's sofa as he passed it and then starting digging through the cabinet.

"I don't," the dark-haired man returned. He shrugged slightly while his right hand swirled the glass with the caramel-colored liquid. "But since I usually can't get rid of you, I find it ironic." There was a touch of humor, after all, in a guy being late who even showed up to work on his days off.

Inuyasha pulled off his leather biker jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch once he found what he was looking for in the cabinet — a black t-shirt with the club logo on the back. He set the shirt down on the back of the sofa and deftly pulled off his black shirt, revealing his lithe, yet defined upper body. He dropped the previously-worn garment haphazardly on the floor. "I was busy," his muffled voice came as he pulled on the club shirt. He bent down to pick up the other cloth, tossing it on top of his jacket, and then flopped in the chair across from his friend's desk.

"Wasn't looking for an excuse, really," Bankotsu stated with a shrug. He took a draw off his whiskey and then sighed. There was something on his mind. Normally, he didn't bother to tell his employee when he received a 'phone call,' but something about today's conversation pushed him past that self-centered, who-gives-a-crap façade, to address the matter with his long-time friend. "Your dad called."

Inuyasha stiffened in his seat, and then forced his muscles to relax as if he didn't really care. His golden eyes avoid Bankotsu's gaze. "What did he want?" he asked.

"The usual. To see if I'd heard from you or know where you are." Bankotsu licked his lips, biting back his opinion on his friend's behavior. Inuyasha's body language spoke of the tell-tale signs of emotional avoidance, an avoidance that had gone on for far too long to be healthy. Not that Bankotsu really cared for touchy-feely situations or to address them, but … there was something in Inutaisho's voice, desperation and a need to know his youngest son was all right.

"And?" Inuyasha asked. "What did you tell him?"

"Same thing I tell him every time he calls, Yash. That I haven't heard from you, seen you, and that I have no idea where you've hid yourself," Bankotsu growled. "Isn't it about time you gave this up? It's not his fault, or your brother's, or yours for that matter."

Inuyasha growled, echoing his employer. "I didn't ask you, Bank."

"I know you didn't, but they haven't seen or heard from you since the funeral. Kami, Yash, it's been eighteen months since she died."

The bouncer's body stiffened. His fists clenched and he abruptly stood. His palms smacked against the desktop. "You don't get it, Bank. I don't want to be around them," he yelled.

"But it's not their fault," Bankotsu reasoned. He wasn't easily startled by Inuyasha's gruff outbursts. The man had a temper for as long as the club owner had known him. Angry, frustrated yelling was just how he expressed what he couldn't otherwise voice.

"I know that!" Inuyasha shouted, more frustrated than angry now. "But they don't understand that I just can't … move on and do things like nothing's changed. It's … not that easy for me." The volume of his voice decreased as his words floundered toward the end.

Bankotsu sighed. "I know that, Yash, that's why I don't tell him I've seen you when he calls." He took a swig of whiskey. "But eventually, Inuyasha, you're going to have to stop pretending to be something you're not. I rather like having you around this place, but come one, you don't really belong here."

"Feh, who asked you?" Inuyasha dropped back into the chair like a sack of potatoes. His mother had always instilled manners and decorum in her son, but Inuyasha just didn't care about anything or anyone anymore. What was the point?

"Apparently, no one …" Bankotsu said dryly. He dropped the subject and went back to his paperwork. Someday, the bouncer would see reason and start living again. It would be a sad day for the order of his club but, as a friend, he'd be happy for Inuyasha.

Inuyasha let out a long, slow huff of air. The burst made his thick, unruly bangs flutter. He slouched farther into the cushions, toying with a different subject — that of a girl. The longer the silence lingered between employer and employee, the more Inuyasha wanted to break it and tell Bankotsu where he had been. He sighed. Maybe talking about Kagome Higurashi would help get her off his mind. "I saw that girl again, Bank."

That grabbed the other man's attention. His head jerked up quickly from the papers he read and his glass hit the top of his cherry wood desk with a clank. "Girl?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. He had no idea _which_ female he meant, but the fact that Inuyasha was taking about a member of the opposite sex — the underworld just froze.

Inuyasha sat up a bit straighter. His head tossed from side to side like a distracted child. "You know, the one from last week. The one Matsuno was messing with."

Bankotsu chuckled. "Aah, the pretty one you were watching all night."

Inuyasha let out a small growl. "Yeah, her," he responded a bit disgruntle. His boss always knew which buttons to push to make him want to pull out a katana and whack him with it.

"And?" A singular brow arched on Bankotsu's flawless face. He wanted details.

"And nothing!" Inuyasha shot. "She's still weird and drives me up a wall." His arms flailed a bit as if she were there annoying him at that very moment.

"But?" Single word questions were always the best way to make Inuyasha talk. It had the same effect as poking someone with a stick until they broke out of sheer frustration.

"I don't know." The bouncer shrugged. He liked her, yet he didn't like her. He didn't want her around, yet he did. She confused him. "One minute I want to kill her and the next …"

Bankotsu started laughing. He took a drink from his glass, and then said to finish Inuyasha's thought — but mostly to annoy his friend — "… you wish you could kiss her."

"Uh, what?" Golden eyes nearly bugged out of Inuyasha's head. "N-no!" he stammered quickly. His cheeks flushed scarlet and the rose discoloration quickly spread to the tips of his perfectly shaped ears. "Bankotsu!"

The man in the sleek suit laughed hardily at the expense of his friend. "Sure, Yash, keep telling yourself that," he finally said when the laughter subsided. "Perhaps maybe then you'll actually believe it."

"You're an ass," Inuyasha mumbled coldly. He wasn't ready for _that_. Hell, he wasn't even ready to talk to his family and he'd never be ready for someone new.

That was the funny thing about life: The good and the bad always hit unexpectedly. Inuyasha couldn't decide which one of those Kagome was yet — good or bad? His pessimistic nature leaned toward the bad.

———


	6. Crush

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Also, reminder that this fiction is rated teen overall, and this chapter does include alcohol reference and some language (although nothing I haven't heard out of my seventeen-year-old brother)._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers. Song lyrics used from David Archuleta's "Crush," property of that copyright._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Six: Crush**

Kagome's voice softly sang along to the American pop song on repeat on her iPod. She didn't dare truly sing, not like she used to. Instead, the words were whispered to avoid trying for notes that now made her voice crack. But her head bobbed about from side-to-side and she closed her eyes, absorbing the factory beat common in much of modern, mainstream music. The song fit her mood though and the thoughts floating through her mind.

Two days had passed since she 'officially' met Yash Narita. He was so obstinate, utterly rude, and yet, the dancer couldn't get her mind off of him. There was something behind that petulant façade, hidden behind those amber-gold eyes that mesmerized her from the first look. They made her want to … swoon. Yep, that was the word; she was crushing on the arrogant, bad-boy she barely knew.

Sango had caught sight of her getting off the back of his motorcycle the night he brought her home. It had sent her best friend into full-blown protective mode, and the cross expression hadn't left the fighter's face since Kagome had briefly told her what happened, where she went and why her hand was bandaged. The dancer made sure to leave out the part that she had every intention of finding the man who saved her after the accident, and that she had every intention of finding her biker bad boy again — Sango was already questioning her judgment on everything and had threatened to call her mother if Kagome continued to act rash.

But what was rash about wanting to thank the person who saved her life? Or enjoy the company of a rough-around-the-edges guy whose very presences made her forget about everything that was bothering her — dancing, school, life. She sighed, and her voice picked up the chorus of the song.

"Do you ever think when you're all alone; All that we can be, where this thing can go?; Am I crazy or falling in love?; Is it real or just another crush?; Do you catch a breath; when I look at you?; Are you holding back like the way I do?; 'Cause I'm trying and trying to walk away; But I know this crush ain't goin' away-ay-ay-ay-ayy; Goin' away-ay-ay-ay-ayy."

Kagome tapped her pencil against the pages of her math book. She hadn't made much progress on her homework, and she had gotten a bit behind in the academic side of her major. She had several exams the following week for her non-dance classes, and she had received a note from her academic adviser that skipping TU company classes and rehearsals was completely unacceptable if she wished to remain a major. Next week, she would have to either return to formal classes or be dropped from the program. If that happened, she would loose her scholarship; she wouldn't be able to finish school; and her education was the only thing she had if she had any hope of a future aside from dance.

But all those worries were secondary at the moment. All she could think about was _him_ — replaying every moment he angered her; those gentle minutes he took care of her; and then finally the way she felt with her arms wrapped around his waist with her face buried in his back as she screamed. Being on that bike with Yash was like soaring to a whole new level of exhilarated happiness. Who was this guy to have such a profound effect on her in such a short time? The song wasn't helping to divert her attention either.

Her voice began again, this time a little louder, clearer. "Do you ever think when you're all alone; All that we can be, where this thing can go?; Am I crazy or falling in love?; Is it real or just another crush? ..."

"Kagome!" Sango barked from across the room.

Hearing the tone even above her earphones, the dancer jumped in her chair. She pulled out the ear buds and looked over her shoulder at her best friend, who glowered at the younger woman. "What?" she asked innocently.

"For the love of Kami, would you please stop singing that awful song?" Sango half-begged, half-ordered. She loved songs like that sparingly, like when the girls went out dancing, not in their dorm room while she was trying to study for her exams. Plus, she had a feeling who her best friend was thinking about every time she sang the chorus.

"Sorry," Kagome retorted sarcastically. She rolled her brown orbs and returned to her math homework. Her pencil still tapped the bound parchment, making the compressed pulp ripple slightly with each strike. The writing instrument continued the tempo of the song still playing in her head, even without her phones.

The dancer studied the equation on the page, but couldn't bring herself to actually start working the problem in her notebook. The numbers might as well have been Greek for all she understood them. She didn't really care if she comprehended them though. She sighed and let her mind drift again.

Kagome started humming the song's melody. She closed her eyes, letting the image of golden eyes fill the black void. Her heart fluttered. Her humming subsided in favor of the lyrics. "Why do I keep running from the truth? All I ever think about is you; You got me hypnotized, so mesmerized." Her voice grew in volume. "And I've just got to know; Do you ever think when you're all alone; All that we can be, where this thing can go?; Am I crazy or falling in love?; Is it real or just another …"

"Kagome!" The irritated cry was followed by a loud thud from Sango's textbook. A frustrated cry erupted as the fighter abruptly stood. "I am going to Miroku's," she announced as she gathered her things. The older woman had finally cracked. Sango spun and shot Kagome a glare before marching to the door. "I suggest you have _him_ out of your system before I get back!" She opened the door, muttering obscenities as she passed through it and then slammed it in her wake.

The dancer sat at her desk, dumbfounded and replaying the scene. She bit her lip, slightly unnerved. Not since high school had Sango reacted so intensely to something she was doing. Either the fighter was actually annoyed about the singing, which Kagome did all the time, or something else was really bothering her. The _what_ escaped the sophomore.

Sango, like always, was correct. Kagome did need to get Yash Narita out of her system, but to do that she would need to find him again. Kagome knew where he lived, but he had made it pretty clear that she was to avoid his neighborhood. Considered one of the safer cities in the world, Tokyo still had some rough spots, and Yash lived in the heart of down-and-out. In truth, other than his run-down studio apartment, the dancer had no leads to his whereabouts.

"Sorry, Sango," she muttered, even though her friend had left. She felt a bit guilty for driving the woman insane. But, Kagome really couldn't help it. She had _him_ on the brain, ingrained and completely occupying her waking thoughts and dreams. She had actually had these warm _fuzzies_ since he had saved her at Seven — _'Wait a minute, that's it!'_ Kagome practically cheered. It was a long shot, but maybe the place to start was the first place they'd met.

She dropped the pencil and jumped up from her seat. Kagome grabbed the iPod and plugged it into the dock, letting the song filled her dorm room. She headed for her closet and pulled a few articles of clothing — nothing danceresque, like she usually wore, but definitely something sexy.

'_Yash Narita, watch out!'_

———

Coming from the speakers situated throughout the night club, modern rock pumped with its distinct guitar edge and wicked bass lines. Tonight was battle night, when bands struggled to win the favor of the always packed house. Currently, roadies swapped out instruments and checked the sound and levels on the microphones in the twenty minutes between each band. Meanwhile, the crowd was kept entertained by the pulsing sound of steal guitar and imperfect vocal inflections that reflected music created from the soul.

At the end of the bar, a woman sat perched upon a stool. Her long ebony hair was pulled back into a loose bun so that tendrils fell wistfully about. A blue silk scarf wrapped her throat, the ends falling like tails down her back. A red, formfitting dress clung to the curves of the lithe, obviously athletic creature, who was already being admired by several men at the other end of the bar. She was oblivious to their whispering and stares.

Kagome sat in silence, waiting patiently for the bartender to come her way. She wanted a drink, she wanted to ask some questions and more importantly, she wanted to find the man with golden eyes. She turned slightly in her seat, staring out across the room. There were so many faces, but none seemed familiar. She wondered if this had been a good idea, to come back to the club. It felt right while she was changing into a slinky red dress and borrowing Sango's black, open-toed stilettos. But now that she was here, Kagome felt a little out of place. What would he think of her if she did find him? More than likely he would accuse her of stalking him again.

The length of her journey on the bus, she had come up with excuses, quick-witted comments to counter anything snarky or rude Inuyasha could possibly say. But would her brave façade hold when inside she felt like a silly little school girl? The longer she sat alone, the more she regretted letting her little crush drive her to this place.

The dancer sighed and spun back around in her seat. She forced a smile on her lips as the barkeep approached her corner. She wasn't exactly sure if the person was male or female. _It_ looked male, but wore lipstick, make-up and hairpins. The Hawaiian shirt was definitely a men's, though.

"Hi, love, what can I get you?" came an overtly feminine voice, but clearly not female. The bartender smiled happily; his dark eyes sparkled with some secret joy that the rest of the world had yet to discover.

Kagome sighed in relief. So he was … well … "Stoli's vanilla and cranberry," she answered.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I ran out of Stoli's. One of the bouncers went to grab me a few bottles, so I'll definitely have it for your next round." He smiled as if nothing could ruin his day. "I'll bring you something similar for the time being."

The dancer nodded and her forced expression faded.

"Don't look so sad, sweetheart," the bartender counter. "I promise, you'll like my little concoction, and by the time you finish it, you'll forget all about that vodka and cranberry." He started to walk away.

Kagome watched him go and then quickly remember she wanted to ask the man a question. "Hey, wait!" she called. Her lips twitched into a smile when the happy man spun back toward her. His aura was infectious. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did, sugar," he said pointedly, but not once loosing that exuberant air. "But you're welcome to ask me another, so fire away, honey."

"Mmm, I — I was wondering if you know a man a little older than me; his name's Yash — Yash Narita." Kagome's lips pursed. _'Well that was articulate.'_

The bartender's head dropped back as he expelled a rather loud laugh. "What the devil do you want Yash for? You're much too sweet for that pill."

"You know him?" she asked excitedly. All of sudden, it felt as if electricity coursed through her veins instead of blood.

"You bet, sugar. He's fetching my vodka," he said as if their friendship was obvious.

Kagome's expression soured in confusion. "He works here?"

The man stared at her for a few moments; his happy features faded to a more serious expression as he weighed and measured her. "Yes, dear." He paused; his eyes narrowed in further scrutiny. "You wouldn't be Kagome, would you?"

The dancer's mouth gaped like a fish, surprised this complete stranger would know her name. She nodded in affirmation.

As if a switch flipped, the bartender's cheerfulness returned. "Well, then I should tell you, your drinks are on the house." He stepped a little closer and leaned up against his side of the bar. "I'm Jakotsu, honey. My brother, Bankotsu, owns this place. So, if you need anything at all, you just let me know." He turned to saunter off, but halted after a few steps. Turning back around, he added, "And don't take none of Yash's bull, sweet thing. He's all bark and no bite unless he's throwing someone out," and then returned to his duties.

A few minutes later, Jakotsu returned with Kagome's drink. He winked at the young woman before assisting other eager patrons with their requests.

Kagome sipped on the fruity concoction and then downed half the glass before she realized it. It was much better than her original order — as he promised — with subtle hints of blueberry and pomegranate. She swirled the glass and smiled as the fluids displayed a rainbow of blues, reds and purples.

"Hey, Jak, come grab this," a familiar voice called.

Kagome looked up from her beverage; beside her, with a box in his arms, was the subject of her inquiry. She stared at him, unable to take her chocolate-brown eyes from his face. Unaware of her scrutiny, he looked at ease, comfortable in this club and in his work. His entire demeanor felt warmer, more inviting. Her stomach flipped.

"Come on, man, I don't have all night!" he barked, as if that would make the bartender move any faster to retrieve the stock.

"Keep your pants on, Yash," Jakotsu countered. He still smiled as he approached the counter and then grabbed the proffered box from his fellow employee. "Besides, you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of the lady." He gestured toward Kagome, and then winked at Yash.

Yash followed the gesture, catching sight of Kagome for the first time. The edges of his lips twitched as if itching to smile. She looked nothing like the babe-in-arms from the other day, instead all he saw was a babe in a flashy red dress and undeniably beautiful. She left him breathless.

"Hi," Kagome said sweetly. Her heart thumped against her chest, and her cheeks flushed pink.

Inuyasha gulped. "Hi," he countered, completely forgetting to be an iceman as he stared at more than just her eyes. He leaned a little closer, but caught his action half way through the movement. His back stiffened and his smiled dissipated like the song playing through the sound system. The next band was about to take stage. "What are you doing here?" he demanded a bit coldly.

Kagome was crestfallen over his sudden change in deportment. For a moment, she was certain he was happy to see her, only for him to spoil it with his indifferent tone. "You told me I could see you again _if_ I could find you." She forced a bright smile, remembering what Jakotsu told her: _'All bark, no bite.'_ "I found you."

"Obviously," he countered in a humorless tone. He shifted his weight so that his side leaned up against the bar and then crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Trying to keep her patience, Kagome arched her brows into a knowing expression. She was not going to let his snarky attitude get to her. No, instead, she was going to shove right back, but in her customary, sugar-coated, sweet way. She'd break through his walls yet.

Kagome polished off her cocktail and set the glass down on the opposite side of the bar top. "This is a nice place." The dancer added a little small talk. "I like it all the better now that I know you work here."

"Feh, there is a law against stalking, you know?" he grumbled back at her.

"I'm not stalking," she returned. Her eyes rolled, despite trying not to let him irritate her. She waved at Jakotsu and then pointed at her glass. He nodded his head. "I'm enjoying a few drinks, which apparently are on the house." She glanced at Yash, knowingly, accusingly, questioningly. Either way, the student understood the only way Jakotsu would know her name was if Yash had told him about her, which meant she made an impression. "And yes, I was hoping to see you again, but since your manners haven't improved, I just think I'll go with another drink."

"If my manners are so ghastly, I don't know why you even bothered," Yash muttered petulantly. The woman had a lot of nerve. "Why don't you just …"

"Yash, if you finish that sentence, by the time Bank and I are done with you, I'll be more masculine than you," Jakotsu interrupted. He set a lighter-colored mix of alcohol in front of Kagome. "There you go, sweet thing. Perhaps this will help you swallow that pill he's giving you." Jakotsu patted her hand and then meandered off again, obviously happy about putting Yash in his place.

Yash's cheeks glowed red. He spun back to face the bar fully and rested his arms on the smooth wooden surface. His back hunched. "Traitor," he mumbled. "So much for friendship."

Kagome gulped about three-quarters of the glass in front of her before setting it back down. She had just about enough of the verbal sparring. The dancer wished for a pleasant evening, but it looked as if Yash wasn't going to cooperate. "The truest friend will call you on your bullshit, you know?" she responded, although his mutters were hardly directed at her.

"Who asked you?" Yash barked. He rolled his neck to peer at the woman over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he noticed how much of the contents were gone already, and then bit back another comment as Kagome picked back up the glass and finished the liquor. The glass came down hard.

"I'll see you around." Kagome pushed back on the bar and let the stool slide out. Her tiny form spun on the stool top before her heels hit the hard surface of the floor.

Yash stood erect, a little surprised that she was retreating. "Wait, where you going?"

"To dance," came Kagome's curt response. She glared at the bouncer. "This is a club, after all, and I did come here to have fun." She paused, biting the inside of her lip. "It wouldn't kill you to be polite, _Narita_." She huffed in aggravation and then retreated to the dance floor. On the stage, the band was about to begin. Kagome closed her eyes, and waited for the opening notes that would take her to another place. The alcohol was already doing its job.

———

Inuyasha watched as Kagome walked away. His body relaxed and dropped the barriers he was so good at erecting. "Shit," he swore, and then haphazardly sat on the stool she had previously occupied. It was still warm. "I'm such an idiot." He closed his eyes, still cursing under his breath. His forehead fell against the palms of his hands, supported by his elbows on the bar top.

He had thought about her endlessly for the past few days, even debated stopping by Tokyo University just to see her again. But, he barely knew her and thus reasoned such an action was imprudent. His heart soared when he saw her sitting at the bar, looking like a goddess in her red dress and done-up hair-do. Then, his mouth got in the way.

"Yes, you are, honey. In fact, I've often wondered if someone beat you with a stupid stick when you were younger."

The bouncer opened his eyes. Jakotsu stood over him, wiping the counter with a towel. "It's not that easy, Jak, not for me." His mother would have been absolutely repulsed to see him speak to a female in that manner. She and his father had taught him etiquette when it came to the opposite sex, and Yash had broken every rule.

Jakotsu sighed. "Yash, no one's asking you to marry the girl, but clearly, you like her and being slightly feminine myself, I can say she probably didn't come tonight just for the music." The bartender turned around and grabbed the bottle of Jack, along with a tumbler. He filled the glass to the brim and then pushed it toward his friend. "It is technically your night off …"

Inuyasha looked at the glass and then back over his shoulder to the dance floor. She moved beautifully to the rock band just beginning to pound out its rhythm for the crowd. He wanted to … he didn't know what he wanted. "I don't know, Jak." He shook his head as he returned his attention to the barkeep.

"Who really knows anything, Yash?" Jakotsu said with a shrug. He, like his brother, was tired of watching Inuyasha go through the motions of living, hiding out behind the scenes at _Seven_ and only smiling for the first time recently — when he met Kagome. "But I do think you should down that to catch up with the fox in red and then join her on the dance floor."

"I don't dance," he countered coolly.

"Honey, all of mankind dances. Try to be human for once." Jakotsu scoffed. "I'm getting back to work now. You're ruining my mood."

Inuyasha stared at the glass and let out a small puff of air. He usually never drank more than a quarter, or at the most half, of the amount Jakotsu had just served him — at least for the past few months. He tilted his head to the side, wondering how many shots were exactly in it. "To hell with it," he muttered and then grabbed the glass and kept it going until the contents were gone.

The bouncer took a deep breath and pushed up on the bar. He wet his lips nervously, and sent up a silent prayer that this wouldn't backfire in his face. It had been a long time since he had spent time with a woman that wasn't a family member, and after the accident, he just wasn't the same. However, chances were worth taking, because you could always learn from mistakes. _She_ had taught him that, and he doubted she'd want him to be miserable forever.

He pushed his way through the crowd and stopped beside Kagome's dancing form. His hand gently brushed her shoulder, grabbing her attention. She smiled when she saw him, and then dragged him to the center of the mess. Not once did she stop dancing; not once did she ask for an apology; not once did Inuyasha regret his night.

———


	7. Not the Usual Place to Wake

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea, and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Topic warning for this chapter, although still teen.._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Seven: Not the Usual Place to Wake**

Kagome's eyes fluttered open, and immediately she wished she hadn't opened them. Her head ached, pounding like a kick drum against her temples. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against her brow. The dancer kneaded the furrowed flesh starting at the center and then working her way out toward the rhythmic pulsing at the sides.

What had happened last night? Her mind was in a fog, clouded by too much alcohol and now the throbbing that was also making her nauseous. Her hand stretched out, searching for her other pillow and patting the bedding as she moved. The appendage froze. Her dorm bed wasn't this big. In fact, she had rolled off the narrow futon several times since starting at Tokyo University.

The student's heart rate picked up. She opened her eyes and tried to remain calm. The room was dark, with only traces of light breaking around the edges of the thick curtain covering the window. It smelled like pine, a bit musky like a man and dusty from want of cleaning. She glanced to the right and noticed a sofa pressed up against the mattress. She had seen the set up recently; she even knew the smell.

"Shit," she barked, sitting completely upright in the bed. The covers dropped away revealing not her red dress, but a T-shirt with the _Seven_ logo on it that hung well to her knees. Her eyes widened in horror, and she repeated the swear word several times as she searched for her clothes. Where was her dress? She couldn't see in the low light.

She crawled to the edge of the bed, examining the floor, and then launched to her feet, forgetting her headache as she neared full panic. Her black hair had long since been freed of its bun and hung wildly about in a mild case of bed-head. She tore through the piles of male clothing and tossed them in the air. When her search came up fruitless, she stood upright and started to move to the other side of the couch.

As Kagome turned to round the sofa, a fluorescent light filled the room from the opposite end. Haloed by the light was a tall man with long, black hair. He wore only a pair of jeans as he walked back into the main living area, drying his dark locks with a towel. He paused at the sight of Kagome. "Good morning," he said softly, and then went back to drying his hair.

"Where," Kagome started. Her checks glowed red from embarrassment. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if it would help her shrink into the woodwork. "Where are my clothes?"

Yash bent down, digging through a pile of his clothes by the bed. His back stiffened at her question and he colored. "Your dress is hanging in the bathroom, Kagome," he told her. He glanced at the woman and gave her a reassuring smile, before trying to find his work shirt. His toes wiggled a bit, fidgeting the way his hands currently couldn't.

Kagome took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This wasn't a bad thing; there were worse things in life, but she had only hazy recollections now of the club, dancing, drinking and, did they … "Yash." She kept her voice soft for the benefit of her aching head and to keep from completely flipping out. "Did we, um, did we …?" She couldn't even finish the words.

Yash's movements stilled, but he avoided the young woman's gaze. A part of him wanted to tease her a bit, because, of course, they hadn't. Clearly, she didn't remember anything after the club. "No, Kagome. You were a little too drunk for me to take you home last night, and I was a little too drunk to drive you." He sighed, and then started digging through his clothes again. "I slept on the sofa."

Kagome let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Kami!"

The bouncer looked up at her with a hurt expression. "Keh, thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, no, no!" the dancer said defensively, now feeling guilty. She hadn't meant it rudely at all. She moved quickly to his side and then sat on the bed behind him. "It's just that well, I would kind of like to remember my …" She wasn't even going to finish her thoughts. Her cheeks once again turned as scarlet as a rose; the discoloration reached the peaks of her ears and shaded her throat. At least her ears were covered by her hair and her scarf still wrapped her throat.

Her comment gave Yash a reason to pause again. Forgetting his search, he sat on the bed beside the startled female. "Kagome, despite appearances, I'm not that kind of guy," he reassured her. He chewed the inside of his lip. He was never good at conversations like this. "So, when you're with me, you don't — don't need to worry about stuff like that." He offered her an awkward smile.

Kagome measured his words: _'Kind of guy,'_ _'worry about stuff like that.'_ Could she have seriously pegged him wrong? Her forehead creased in confusion and then it dawned on her what he was probably implying. It wouldn't be the first time. Her high school boyfriend, Hojo … and then there was that time … well, it wouldn't be the first time she had misjudged a situation. "Oh, I — I'm sorry I didn't realize you were …" She stopped there, biting her lip and feeling completely stupid for practically forcing her presence upon a guy that wasn't even interested in women.

Kagome wasn't the only one confused. Inuyasha's eyes narrowed. "Realize I was what?" he demanded sharply.

"Well," Kagome started in an innocent air, "that you were … gay."

As she uttered the last word, Yash was on his feet with a horrified expression on his face. "I am not gay!" he shouted. He fidgeted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Kami, Kagome," he added, exasperated, "can't a guy just be a gentleman?"

The woman couldn't help it, couldn't contain it, and could not even control the rather loud laugh that escaped over his agitated state. His cheeks burned the color of the sunset, and he avoided her gaze like a body would avoid the plague. The flush had crept down the front of his throat and even set his upper chest to flame. He was absolutely adorable when he wasn't acting like he cared nothing for the world. Clearly, some things mattered to him, got to him. Yash Narita was as human as the rest. "Yes," she finally managed after containing her laughter. He only glowered. "I am sorry; I didn't mean to laugh. It's just …" It was her turn to color and avert her dark eyes.

The bouncer rolled his shoulders and then crossed his arms. "You keep doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked innocently.

"Not finishing your sentences. If you have something to say, Kagome, you should just say it." His head tilted to the side, scrutinizing the woman in his T-shirt, and then it dawned on him — she was wearing the shirt he had been looking for.

"It's not that important," she mumbled.

"Good, that means no long explanation," he countered a bit curtly. He knelt down before her, forcing the uncomfortable woman to look at him, and smirked. "And I kind of need my shirt back … so take it off …" Laughter rumbled in his chest when her eyes went wide. "… in the bathroom. There are clean towels under the sink. You can take a shower, get dressed, give me back my shirt, and then, if you like, I'll take you home."

Kagome huffed, completely appalled at his commentary, but more so that Yash had managed to turn the tables on the innocent girl. She had spent a lifetime on her toes, and this bouncer was throwing her off balance. "I'm beginning to think demon is a better adjective than gentleman for you, Yash."

He shrugged. "You're probably right, Kagome, but demons, after all, are but fallen angels." He rose to his full height and extended his hand to help the lady off his bed. "I'll make us some ramen and tea while you get cleaned up; it's about all I have."

Kagome took his hand, feeling the familiar charge that set her limbs tingling every time they touched. "Thank you, Yash," she said. It wasn't until she lifted her chin to gaze into his brilliant eyes that she realized how close they now stood. Her chest gently brushed his. Her breath caught. He really was handsome. "For everything," she continued. "From what I do remember about last night, I had a great time." She licked her lips.

The dancer wasn't the only one effected by their proximity. His shimmering eyes were locked on her plump lips for each stroke of her tongue across them. "You shouldn't do that, you know?" Inuyasha whispered a bit huskily.

"Do what?" Kagome countered, wondering if he felt the same thing she did.

"Lick your lips." He swallowed hard.

"Why?" The question escaped just as breathlessly as his statement. Her heart rate increased in the hopes that he might actually kiss her. She wanted him to last night when they were dancing with her arms around his neck and him securing her tightly to his body.

His freehand brushed a few of the wild strands of hair from her face. "Because when you do that, you are entirely too kissable," he stated. The words seemed to break the spell of the moment, bringing him back to reality. He took a step back and dropped his hand. "Enjoy your shower."

Kagome sucked in air to fill her lungs. "Thanks," she mumbled and then marched off to the bathroom. She shut the door and leaned against the cool wood. Closing her eyes, she cursed under her breath. Sango had told her to get him out of her system, and more than ever, she felt as if he was thoroughly ingrained.


	8. Highs and Lows

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior**

**Chapter Eight: Highs and Lows**

Before the breaking dawn, just as the night turned gray, Inuyasha pulled his motorcycle to a halt near Takahashi Hall on the Tokyo University campus. He placed both booted feet on the pavement to balance the machine before killing the engine. His gloved hand extended, proffered to the lady behind him. She placed her small appendage in his, and then stood up on the foot rests and dismounted in much the same way as one would leave a horse. The coldness of the early morning seeped in where once her warmth had been.

The dancer withdrew her hand from his and pulled off her helmet. Inuyasha watched as she secured it to the back of his bike. He drank in the details of the woman who had invaded his life. Her dark hair spilled about her shoulders in curly little wisps. His leather jacket hung just below the length of her mini, making her look positively indecent to the casual observer, but for some reason, he found it adorable. Her cheeks and eyes were slightly red from lack of sleep, but it hardly detracted from her beauty. If anything, it proved she didn't need make up and hair pins to make him catch his breath. He hadn't known her long, but somehow he felt that he would miss her even if they had never met.

Despite his protests, Kagome had spent the past five days at _Seven_, dancing, drinking and waiting for Yash to finish working. After her 'stay-over,' he had thought it best to encourage her not to come to the club or get caught up in his dysfunctional world. He had been an absolute boar to her, even tried to ignore her, but by the end of the first night, he had given in to the whims of the seemingly happy dancer. For the last four nights, they had grabbed breakfast, talked, laughed, teased and even flirted, and then he would drive her back to the university so that she could start her day as a full-time student. He wondered if she ever slept.

"Kagome," he said softly. He pulled up the visor on his helmet and peered at her through the opening.

"Hmmm?" The dancer finished the last step to secure the helmet to the motorcycle, and then glanced up at her friend.

His golden eyes averted, and he swallowed hard. "Do want to have dinner tonight?" He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. She made him anxious and excited all at once.

Kagome smiled broadly. "Are you asking me out on a date?" she countered in a gentle, teasing tone.

His heart nearly stopped. _'Date? Date?'_ His last first date was in high school with _her_, and they had spent seven years together before the fates took her from him. The very prospect of a date … it was frightening. "Well — um — I just thought — keh — I just thought it would be something different — than breakfast."

Her smile washed away and her 'kissable lips' pursed. "Okay …"

Inuyasha swallowed hard. Okay was as vague as his kehs and fehs, and could be taken several ways. He wanted to take it as yes, and for some odd reason, he also felt the urge to kiss her pursed lips. But, it had been just as long since he had kissed a girl for the first time as his last first date. "Okay, as in yes?" he finally sought to clarify. "Or okay as in I'm an idiot?"

Much to his relief, Kagome laughed at his query, and a radiant smile graced her features once more. "Okay as in yes, Yash."

His perpetual frown transformed into a brilliant smile to match the young woman's. First steps were often the hardest, and he had managed to take it without falling flat on his face. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

She shifted from foot to foot. "Um, actually, I'll meet you at the club and we can go from there. I have rehearsal this afternoon and an exam to study for."

"Are you sure you want to go tonight then?" he asked softly. Her frequent appearances at _Seven_ made it easy to forget that she had an otherwise busy life that included school and dancing.

She brushed her hair back behind her ear. "It'll be fine, Yash." Much to his surprise, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to what was exposed of his cheek through the helmet. Her moist lips lingered just off the corner of his mouth. His stomach flipped. "I'll see you tonight," she whispered and then pulled away.

His amber eyes fixated on her retreating form. He wanted her to come back; he wanted her to stay way; he wanted so much, yet nothing all at once. He sighed and pushed away the malignant thoughts poisoning his soul. Bankotsu wasn't often right, but maybe he was about her. "Kagome," he called. His body filled with warmth when she spun back around. "Have a good day."

She blew him a kiss.

———

What was it about Yash that made the Earth move? His very presence made her feel as if she were spinning beneath the great cherry trees during full bloom when the petals would swirl about in the breeze. The last week had been wonderful for Kagome. She had come to know the bouncer better in a few short days, and he wasn't as bad as she thought from her first impression. Yash Narita was kind, caring and a little overprotective. She liked it, until he would suddenly withdraw. Two steps forward, one step back — she hoped their date might yield a little more fruit and namely, a kiss.

Yash had yet to kiss her, although Kagome gave him ample opportunity. She flirted and teased; she even took to invading his space in much the same way he enjoyed invading hers when he wanted to throw her off balance. None of it seemed to work. What was a girl to do?

Her tired mind planned their date as she wandering through the hallway toward her door. They would have dinner at some place comfortable, yet nice, and then maybe they would go riding to some place where they could leave the pace of the city behind. She would kiss him there, beneath the blanket of stars, if she couldn't convince him to kiss her first — after all, she was a 21st Century woman and this wasn't Feudal Japan. Why couldn't she make the first move?

The question ultimately wasn't why she couldn't, but whether Kagome would have the nerve to be bold. She dated in high school and had a handful of dates since starting college. None of them moved Kagome the way Yash Narita did. The very thought of him made her want to dance and gave her the courage to return to rehearsals today. She dreaded the stares, the comments and the pity that plagued her since the accident. It locked her up, made it hard to focus and made dancing even more difficult. But when she thought about him, it was like the sky opening after a long rain. She felt free, as if she could fly. She intended to fly at rehearsal today and prove them wrong about her.

Kagome inserted her key into the lock and opened the door. The overhead light was already on. She winced at the bright light. "You're up early." The dancer shut the door as she watched her best friend. The older woman was already dressed in her judo uniform.

"I have morning training with the team," Sango stated as she brushed her hair. The fighter didn't even spare the other woman a glance. "Out all night again," she continued matter-of-factly.

Kagome crossed to her bed, dropping her keys on her desk as she passed. "I'm surprised you notice." Sango hadn't been home much since their fight the week before. After she stayed the night at Yash's, her best friend had lit into her in the motherly disapproving way she always used when she thought Kagome was being childish or illogical. "How's Miroku?"

"Busy with school like I am." Sango dropped the brush on her desk and finished sweeping her long brown hair into a horsetail. "And like you should be."

The dancer scoffed. She sat down on the bed, pulled off her shoes and then pulled off Yash's motorcycle jacket. She set the leather coat neatly at the end of her bed. "Sango," she said calmly, despite her irritation. She already had a mother, a beautiful one at that, and what she needed right now was her best friend to help her sort out everything she felt for Yash. "I'm doing fine in my classes."

Sango spun around, facing Kagome for the first time. "And what about your dancing?" she bit. "You used to spend every free moment in the studio, and now you're out all night drinking, skipping classes." The fighter shook her head angrily. "What's happened to you, Kagome? I mean, I thought you wanted to become a professional dancer."

"I _still_ want to become a professional dancer, Sango," Kagome said curtly. "What I want hasn't changed just because I enjoy spending a little time at _Seven_ and with Yash."

"A little?" Sango could be rather sardonic at times.

"All right, a lot, Sango, but I really like him. He —" Kagome lost her train of thought. Was a guy really worth giving up everything for? _'I guess it depends on the guy,'_ she admitted. "He's a little rough around the edges, Sango, but he's actually very nice. If you met him, maybe you'd feel different."

Sango's hands perched on her hips. "I'll think about it, Kagome." She sighed. "I've got to go. Don't forget you have to start rehearsals again today. I — I don't want you to lose your scholarship because of some _guy_."

"You worry too much about me," Kagome said dismissively. Nothing was going to stand in the way of her dreams. She had fought hard to be back at a professional level. Unlike Sango, Kagome didn't see Yash as a distraction from her goals, but as an asset and inspiration. There was something special about him, a force that pulled at her to constantly be with him. It frightened and thrilled her in the same instance, and the only thing she dared compare it with was dancing.

"I'm your best friend, Kagome." Sango gathered up her gym bag. "You're like a sister to me and I —" She faltered. "I just want you to be happy." The brunette snatched her keys off her desk and walked toward the door. She paused with her hand on the door knob. "Good luck at rehearsals, Kagome. I know you'll prove them wrong."

Kagome didn't know how to respond so she let Sango go without another word. She prayed to all the Kami and gods in the heavens that the fighter was right. It was disheartening to fall, when all she wanted to do was fly. Perhaps now that she had found her wings, she would be able to soar up to the clouds.

———

Seven hours later, Kagome entered the main TU studio. Already other dancers were warming up around the room and in front of the wall of mirrors. She moved to the far corner and dropped her bag. She sat down and put on her point shoes before starting her warm up. The dancer twisted and flexed her body, and then slid down into the splits and rested her stomach flat against the studio floor.

She ignored the whispers, increasing in strength around her. It had been a month since she had been to the student company rehearsals, and Kagome would have much rather continued dancing in studio four everyday. She was there now, though, and determined to hold her head up high.

Kagome finished stretching just as the director entered the studio. She was an older woman in her forties with the same lean lines she had held since youth. A former prima, she was considered one of the best dancers in Japan to this day. In fact, Ayumi Ivata had personally spoken to her about attending Tokyo University on a full scholarship at the end of her senior year in high school. Ivata had always encouraged her, even after the accident.

Tokyo University wasn't Kagome's only choice for college. She had been accepted to Julliard in New York. Having traveled with her father abroad on business before his death, she was familiar with the city that never slept. In fact, she was torn between New York and London as her favorite cities. But Julliard wasn't meant to be. Unlike Tokyo University, the school hadn't offered her a scholarship and she couldn't afford the prestigious school, or any school, without it. So, she had chosen to stay close to home, close to friends and close to what family remained.

Kagome gracefully joined the crowd of other dancers gathering around Ivata, staying near the back. Her palms felt clammy now that she was in the elder woman's presence. She had idolized Ivata, but always knew where she stood with the former prima, that was until recently.

"Ladies, as you know, today we'll be auditioning for the spring workshop. I expect each and every one of you to show me your best work." The ballet mistress clapped her hands, a signal for them to start with their usual warm up routines.

Kagome's eyes bugged. She swallowed hard. _'Workshop auditions?'_ No one had mentioned auditions of any kind to her. She knew the student company was going to start on something for the spring performance, but apparently that had changed to a workshop — which meant it would serve as auditions for at least the major companies in Japan. She swore silently.

The dancer took a deep breath and got in line. Her eyes closed, trying to prepare for her first presentation in more than a month in front of her ballet mistress. Kagome stepped forward, preparing to enter into a chasse for the start of her round, but her heart nearly stopped at the sound of Ivata's sharp voice. "Higurashi-san, what are you doing here?"

Kagome jerked her head toward the former prima. "Ivata-san?" she questioned. What could she mean? She was told to return to rehearsals. Was she not wanted here? "My adviser said that you requested I return …"

Ivata pursed her lips. Her long slender arms perched upon her hips briefly as if debating how best to handle Kagome. A few seconds later, she marched forward and placed a hand on Kagome's shoulder. She ushered the young dancer to the door. "Please continue warm ups, ladies. I'll return shortly."

By the time they reached the hallway, Kagome was close to panicking. "Ivata-san, I don't understand …"

The dance mistress sighed. Her cross expression faded to one of pity. On a personal level, Ivata was a kind-hearted woman, but as a professional dancer, she was hard, critical and brutally honest. "Kagome-san, I'm sorry, dear, your adviser was supposed to explain everything to you." She shook her head. "This was not the way I wanted you to find out."

"Find out about what?" The young dancer could already feel her world crumbling. Whatever Ivata had to say wasn't good. She wouldn't have ushered her to the hall otherwise.

"Kagome-san, as of the end of the semester, the scholarship committee has decided to rescind your scholarship."

"What!" _'This can't be happening!'_ The girl's hands began to shake.

"I'm sorry, dear. I tried everything to convince them to give you a bit more time for your ankle to heal, but …" She placed a hand on Kagome's shoulder. "As you know the classical dance program is based on merit, which means you will also no longer be a member of it."

The dancer's throat choked as she tried not to cry in front of her mentor. "Ivata-san, I'm — I'm being kicked out of school?"

The former prima shook her head. "No, dear. You're not being kicked out of the university, but you'll have to change majors — perhaps to modern dance — your _limitations_ wouldn't be as much as an issue there." Ivata sighed. "Truly, Kagome-san, I am sorry. I know how hard you have worked, but as it stands with your injury, I cannot even cast you in the workshop for the company auditions at the end of the semester. You're just not ready."

Hot, salty tears began to pool at the edges of Kagome's eyes. "This — this is all I have." The lump in her throat hardened, and she fought to hold back the surging emotions, to not cry in front of the woman she idolized.

Ivata placed her other hand on Kagome's opposite shoulder in a gesture as if she was going to pull the girl into a hug. "Kagome-san, I cannot express how deeply sorry I am, but you know I must do what is right for the company."

Kagome nodded her head in affirmation. She couldn't breathe, not matter how hard she fought, and for the second time in her life, the young woman felt trapped without hope.

"You are more than welcome to attend classes in the classical program until the end of the semester, and I would encourage you to do so," Ivata stated in a gentle tone. She offered the dancer a smile, in the hopes of granting a little cheer. "Because, in two months time, the school will hold auditions for the private slots in the workshop. We are putting together two short ballets for current company students, and I've allowed room for two additional private pieces. Kagome-san, I may not be able to cast you in one of the TU ballets now, but I am hoping that by the time the private auditions come, you will be ready."

A door had been opened for her once more, and through it laid a measure of hope. "If I dance in the workshop, will the committee give me back my scholarship?" She held her breath, waiting for an answer and praying it was the one she wanted to hear.

"No, dear. I'm sorry." Ivata dropped her hands from Kagome's shoulders, and the girl felt as if the door had slammed once more in her face. "But, perhaps you will find a job as a dancer through the workshop — even if you are unable to finish school." The lanky women then headed back into the studio.

The young girl watched her walk away in disbelief. How could this happen? Her adviser had specifically said she would remain in the program. But clearly, there had been a miscommunication. Now, not only was Kagome utterly embarrassed in front of all the female classical dance students, but her hopes and dreams of a future were dashed in a moment.

It's all it took after all — a moment — to change a person's life irreversibly. Not even the tears streaming down her face could change her fate. They could not barter a reprieve, anymore than they could heal her physical wounds. They couldn't even quall the emotions dragging her into the figurative pit of darkness. She ran down the coordinator and into the ladies room just as her silent sobs escaped into shuttering breaths. Like so many other moments, this one was out of her control, and again, she wondered why her life had been saved just for everything she loved to be taken away.

———

At three in the morning, the music stopped. The thumping roar of music was replaced by the steady rise of voices in the crowd as they cleared the closing club. A lone figure remained at the bar, sipping on a tumbler of whiskey. His shoulders hunched and his long, unbound hair hung down his back. His jaw was tight to go with the scowl marring his otherwise handsome face. He picked up the glass for one last pull and then slammed it hard on the bar top.

What a fool he had been to become a victim of optimism and hope. He had dared to dream that maybe life might find a few kind moments for him, only to find his trust unfounded. For six hours, he had sat on a stool, waiting for his date. They hadn't specified a time, but dinner implied evening hours, and he had waited in the place they always met. Yet, she never came.

"Yash." The bartender's voice interrupted his brooding.

"Save it, Jak," he barked. Inuyasha pushed back against the counter to slide the stool back. The force of the shove sent the seating toppling to the floor as he retook his feet. He stalked toward the employees-only door at the backend of the building. He slid his card through the lock and entered the back coordinator, heading for the exit. As he approached the door, he slammed his fist into the steal barrier and then threw the door open with enough force for it to smack the outside wall.

It had all been a mistake, to dare to be happy. Fate had already stolen every ounce of good from his life; why shouldn't Kagome be any different?

———


	9. Just The Thing

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Nine: Just the Thing**

Much was lost to the busy city life: The shining light of the stars, the glow of the moon as it lit up the night, the homeless man asleep in an alley, or the fire in the distance scorching everything in sight. Sirens blared while others slept content in their beds, without regrets. Why should they worry for problems not their own, the plight of the nameless, the faceless, those afraid to go home? Like ants in an ant farm, the masses scurried about, ignoring the grieving, the dying and the lost. No one cared for the troubles of others or a little girl who could cry to no other, save the golden-eyed angel who saved her one night, in a club up the street, when he started a fight. But would he care, although her tears still fell? Would he cast her away or tell her to go to hell? She deserved his scorn for breaking their date, but Kagome could barely breathe let alone pretend today that life was sunny and warm when her dreams had crashed down like a violent storm.

She sat on his stoop at the top of the stairs, waiting for the bouncer with a razor-sharp glare. Her knees drew up, hugged to her chest. Her face was buried in her crossed arms as she let whimpering cries escape with each breath. For hours, she had tried to change her fate, to reason, to argue, to make it all just go away. No matter how she tried, the matter was settled. Kagome would be gone like the wind at the end of the semester. Her only hope was to dance in the workshop and find the job she'd dreamed of when her life was better. But that was logic saved for the morrow when her mind wasn't clouded by endless sorrow.

The dancer sobbed even harder.

———

It was just before dawn when Inuyasha made it home. He had spent the last few hours pounding away at a punching bag in an empty warehouse not far from the club. His father owned the building, which made it a safe place, especially since nothing had been stored there since Inuyasha was fifteen. Unbeknownst to his old man, he had set up a mini dojo in what use to be the foreman's office — complete with weapons, mats and a punching bag that came in handy on nights like this — when he felt broken, angry and betrayed.

The bouncer spent countless hours in his secluded retreat, continuing his martial arts training the best he could. It helped focus his mind and forget about everything except how good it felt for his fists and legs to connect with the bag. He had been raised a fighter, competing from an early age as was expected. He grew to hate those expectations and missing out on little things, such as riding bikes with his friends or going to concerts. But his father, a former Olympic athlete and even prouder businessman, believed that learning to fight held more importance than a having a normal childhood.

Inutaisho first pushed Inuyasha's older brother, Sesshomaru, into martial arts, and Sesshy had thrived in the atmosphere. The elder son had won numerous tournaments — nationally and internationally, including the 2004 Olympic gold medal. In the midst of competition, he had even gone on to medical school, and now served as a top surgeon at one of their father's hospitals.

Inuyasha wasn't like Sesshomaru though. His brother was cold, callous and meticulous in how he defeated an opponent, whereas Inuyasha waited for an opening to attack, or he would lose his patience and proceed blindly in a rush. His father had called him sloppy, and only pushed more on him in the hopes of taming his passionate younger child. In time, Inuyasha had learned and found his balanced, but it had cost him more than he could endure.

The bouncer sighed as he began to climb the metal staircase. It groaned under his weight, but not so loud as to drown out the whimpers coming from the top of its expanse. He paused, his weight resting on one leg, and listened to the strange sounds emanating from the darkness. Someone was there, hidden in the shadows in front of his door.

Inuyasha continued up the steps slowly and stopped at the last perch. He peered down at the huddled form, barely visible in the void. It twitched with each struggled breath. He bent down to take a closer look. As he put his face in what should have been hers, he smelt it — lavender and roses from the shampoo she used and the gentler scent of vanilla from her perfume. He sucked in air and held it, overtaken by a sense of fear that she was hurt, and then anger over her standing him up. The emotions played on his features, but melted away at the scent of salty tears.

Inuyasha placed one hand on her shaking shoulder. With the other, he gently brushed back her hair. "Kagome?" he called softly. "Are — are you all right?"

The woman lifted her head. The whites of her eyes glowed in the darkness when she opened them. She sniffled; her body continued to shudder. Her throat was choked from hours of crying. She couldn't answer. Instead, she sniffled again and threw her arms around Yash's neck. She buried her face in his shoulder, and the tears came faster.

Inuyasha stiffened. His golden orbs widened. Something was definitely wrong, yet the dancer had not shared what put her in such a state. It wasn't his problem, either way, but as much as he wanted to dismiss it, dismiss her, he could only find compassion tearing down his carefully crafted barriers.

"Ka-go-me?" he said softly, hoping to find an answer. Instead, she wrapped her arms even tighter around him.

He sighed, giving in to the embrace, and hugged her close with one arm. With the other hand, he dug for his keys. He fumbled in the dark and unlocked his door. He shoved it open and then managed to scoop the emotionally distraught woman up into his arms before entering and kicking the door closed again.

Yash stumbled through his home. He wasn't entirely sure where to put her, but opted for his bed. It was the most comfortable place in the stuffy studio apartment. He set her down, but Kagome wouldn't release him. Her embrace forced the bouncer to remain at her side. His fingers moved through her hair, untangling strands when he'd find them and toying with the ends.

"Kagome?" he tried again after some time had passed and her sobs had settled significantly. He wasn't sure how long, but the faint light of the early morning seeped in through the edges of the curtain over the window.

"I'm sorry," she shuttered out. Her arms slipped from around his neck to wrap around his waist.

Yash's face contorted in confusion. Was she sorry for missing their date or sorry she showed up a sobbing, wet mess? He had long ago stopped trying to figure out the complexities of the female mind, and Kami, he was still mad at her for leaving him the lurch. The latter emotion felt trivial considering her emotional state. She was behaving as if the world had just ended, which meant she also probably had a reason for not making it to _Seven_.

With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes, grateful he actually wore his Adidas instead of his boots. He drew his legs up onto the bed and shifted his weight so that both he and Kagome were lying down. He was tired, not in the best mental state, and whatever was ailing her would keep until the sun fully brightened the day.

Kagome's arms wrapped around his chest; her head rested upon his shoulder while his hands caressed her hair. All the while, Inuyasha wondered what could have hurt her so deeply. He prayed to all the Kami and gods he could name it wasn't the same thing that had destroyed his. A pain like _that_ could never be fully healed.

———

Inuyasha's mind drifted in the place between dreams and awake, where the world still held possibilities. Neither nightmares nor the debilitating truth of reality touched him, only warmth, comfort and the wafting scent of vanilla. His lips remained together as the edges of his mouth turned upward.

He shifted, wiggling into the comfort of his bed, and wrapped his arms around the woman that rested beside him. He drew her up, repositioning her weigh, and gently nuzzled her hair. He thanked all the Kami in existence that he was lucky enough to wake each morning with _her_ loving face to greet him. With eyes still closed, he kissed the crown of his love's head.

_She_ was his everything, the very force that made his world spin. Every morning, he would wake to feel her beside him, and every night, after a long day of training and classes, he would fall asleep to the easy cadence of her gentle breathing. Their days and nights were not always harmonious. They bickered like any couple, trying to persuade the other to his or her point of view. But no matter what the day brought, each night and each morning were the same. It made his world _right_. He loved _her_.

Inuyasha sighed in content. His hands stroked through the silken tresses of her long, obsidian locks. He'd smooth the surface, only to start again near the back of her head and comb his hands through to the end. He halted his ministrations, slightly confused; her hair came up shorter than he recalled.

Like a piano falling from a high-rise, reality hit him. Inuyasha's lips curved into a severe frown as his eyes popped open. His mind, now awake and coherent, lapsed into a melodic, singular state. His body turned cold, shivering without control. This was how his days began now — alone, without hope, miserable, heartbroken, uncertain. The only dissimilarity to the rest was the beautiful woman asleep in his arms this morning.

"Kagome," he whispered. He wished she was another, the one he pledged to spend his life with. He had lost _her_; there was no rhyme or reason to make sense of that day, no one to fight, no one to even hear his pleas to bring _her_ back to him.

Inuyasha choked back the wave of emotion that sought to flood his eyes with tears. It was unfair to compare them; yet, the longing in his heart wouldn't allow him move on. This girl with him now was lovely, lively and — _wow_. For a moment, he had thought he could live again, move on with his life. Kagome had raised his expectations in the short time he had known her. But those old walls fell around his heart when she didn't show up for their date. Obviously, something had happened or she wouldn't have spent the better part of the early morning relinquishing tears upon his t-shirt-clad chest. He would get her through whatever ailed her, and then — _no more._ He didn't want to be close to anyone ever again, not when there was a chance …

His chin dropped to look at the women in his arms. He felt the sharp rise of her chest as it slowly filled with air — the first deep breath after sleep. "Kagome," he whispered. His breath caught at the sight of her sad eyes. Black discoloration and puffiness marred the soft skin surrounding her expressive orbs. She made him catch his breath, but he promptly shook it off, remembering his resolve.

The woman sniffled. "I'm sorry, Yash," her soft words drifted up to him.

Inuyasha tilted his head, trying to get a better look at her face. Her apology still confused him. He wanted to know what was bothering her, what thoughts swirled behind those otherwise telling eyes. He knew from the look alone that her words were sincere. "For what, Kagome?" he asked. After all, he was a man, not a mind reader.

Her body began to shake, shuttering as she tried to take another deep breath. Her diaphragm had been worked until exhausted by the magnitude of her tears. "Our date — for showing up like this … I ..." Salty streams poured down her already tear-stained cheeks.

Yash pursed his lips tightly while a hand wiped away the fresh droplets from her round face. The bouncer was at a loss for words. He was never really great at the whole comfort thing. He remembered all the times his mother shed tears, and he would stand helpless to take away her pain. When he was young, he never understood why she would cry when he was upset, sad or hurt. His older brother called it a woman's _weakness_. The female gender was overemotional. But as the young man aged, he began to understand why. Yes, Sesshomaru was partly correct, but mostly, his beautiful mother shed tears simply because she loved him. She triumphed in his joys and shared in his sorrow. Izayoi died just after his thirteenth birthday. Thanks to her gentle heart, he hated the sight of a woman in pain.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he inquired, using an indirect question to allow her the option of not answering. She remained silent.

"Kagome?" he asked after an appropriate amount of time had passed. Disappointment rushed over him when she pulled away from him and sat up on the bed. _'Wait, disappointment?'_ What a confusing reaction.

Her shoulders hunched in a posture that spoke of defeat. The dancer took a deep breath; this time the air filled her lungs with only a hint of a shutter. "I was in an accident …" she started.

Inuyasha immediately sat up in the bed. His golden eyes widened in horror. He grabbed her shoulders, fighting the urge to pull her back against his chest because it also meant he would allow her past his walls if he did. He just wasn't strong enough to carry all his burdens and hers as well.

"Oh, no, no, no," she countered quickly. "It was last year. I was hurt pretty bad."

The bouncer sighed in relief. He dropped his arms back, supporting his weight against the bed, and keeping a 'safe' distance. "I don't think I understand." What did an accident a year ago have to do with her tears last night?

Kagome brushed back her long, dark locks behind an ear. She took another deep breath, still trying to steady her diaphragm after sobbing through most of the day and night before. "I'm on scholarship for the TU classical dance program. The injury _hindered_ my dancing."

Inuyasha scratched his head and then leaned back on his arms once more. "Keh. Still not following …" His brows knitted together as he mentally warred with his impatient nature. He would never understand why women had to explain ever minor detail before getting to the point. _She_ had been that way as well with her riddle-like speech that made him question his intelligence for not understanding _her_. He cared about this new woman, though, and for her, he tried to listen with patience and significantly less fidgeting then usual. Bank and Jak would have already been yelled at to get to the point.

Kagome shared the events from the day before: Finding out she had lost her scholarship; the background as to why her level of dancing had diminished — but left out significant details about the accident, and trying to beg, plead, borrow and steal her way back into the program. By the end of the tale, her chin quivered uncontrollably. Tears no longer fell, however. She had spent herself of those.

Coming off the support of his arms, he sat up straight and kicked his legs over the edge of the bed. He scooted sideways, placing his body beside her. He draped an arm about her shoulders. "Is there anything you can do?" Now that she had shared her troubles, he wished he could fix everything for her. The girl was always so smiley and bubbly that he had taken for granted that anything could hurt her.

Kagome shook her head. "I could try for one of the extra spots at the workshop, try to find a job through it, but the company will be using all the studios on campus to prepare for the school's ballets. I — I can't afford private studio time. I …" her voice trailed off as her throat choked. Tears or no tears, her body still reacted as if she was crying.

He drew her toward him, letting her head rest upon his shoulder. He was hardly a magician, therefore couldn't magically resolve for Kagome what he couldn't even fix in his life. His monetary assets, other than his pay at the nightclub, were _frozen_ at the moment. To access them would mean facing his past. He wasn't ready to face it — at least not all of it. "Kagome," he said quietly, an idea coming to him, "do you _just_ need a place to rehearse?"

She nodded in affirmation against him.

"Then cheer up," he ordered. He gave her a toothy grin. "And let me borrow your phone."

The dancer pulled away from the young man, giving him a quizzical expression. Nonetheless, she pulled the cell phone from the pocket of her zip-up hoodie. "What do you …?"

"You'll see," Inuyasha interjected. He took the phone and headed out the front door. Some phone calls were best made in private. After all, he didn't want to raise her hopes, just to have them dashed again. She had been through enough.

———


	10. A Place to Dance

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Ten: A Place to Dance**

A million bodies swarmed down the sidewalk. Car horns honked and people shouted. The beats of the city echoed off the concrete, steal and glass of its permanent structures. For some, it was overwhelming but to others it signified the heart of the modern metropolis. For Inuyasha, it felt stifling, restrictive. He would rather be anywhere else than around people, stuck in traffic or on this street in Hachioji City.

His black and red motorcycle skirted through the stand-still traffic. He weaved through the obstacles with precision and grace, occasionally smiling when he felt Kagome's apprehensive grip take hold of the fabric of his jacket. As much as he hated the destination, he knew it was the answer to her problems and therefore would make her smile. He reversed his bike between two parked cars in front of a white building with large glass windows.

"Where are we?" her feminine voice asked above the growl of the engine.

He killed the bike and glanced over his shoulder. "Can't you read, Princess?" he asked through the helmet. He flipped up the visor and offered her a wry smile as he pointed to a script painted on the glass. Pink cherry blossoms decorated the see-through surface just above the letters.

Kagome gasped. "Yash?" she started breathlessly. "Hachioji Studio? Are you — are you teasing me?"

"Keh," he scoffed. The bouncer extended his hand, helping Kagome balance as she stepped off the motorcycle. He dismounted and took off his helmet. The long, dark ponytail fell out and down his back. "Of course not."

Kagome removed his spare helmet and set it on the back of his bike. When she glanced back to the studio sign, she couldn't take her eyes off it. Hachioji Studio was legendary in Japanese ballet, and it had only been open for five years — give or take. Half of the young women in the freshmen classical dance program at TU had trained with the instructors that worked out the studio. And only a year ago, it had hosted the gala of all company auditions — an audition she had missed. Dumbfounded over the magnitude of what he was offering, she asked, "How?"

Inuyasha shrugged dismissively. No way was he going to answer that question truthfully. To explain exactly how he managed it would require revealing a piece of his past that he preferred not to address. It was hard enough for him to even stand in front of the building, let alone cross the threshold. But to introduce this young dancer to the owner of the studio would require him to do just that. He took a deep breath. "It's nothing, Kagome. Really."

Inuyasha untied her dance bag hooked to the back of his motorcycle and handed it to her. He then placed a hand on the small of Kagome's back and ushered her to the glass doors that lead to the studio lobby. He held one open for her, before following through.

As he entered the studio, it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, like a punch to the gut. His eyes closed. The eerie laughter of the ghosts of his past echoed in his ears. It had been eighteen months since he had entered this door. The last time, _she_ had met him in this spot, in the entryway, and kissed him full on the mouth. Because of a tournament, he hadn't seen _her_ in a week. He had craved the taste of her lips, the warmth of her touch, the very essence of the woman he loved. He hated being here now without _her_.

"Hello, can I help you?" an impatient voice filtered into his thoughts. When Inuyasha opened his eyes, Kagome stood to the right of him with a rather uneasy expression. She shifted from foot-to-foot and her cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment. Inuyasha had missed the receptionist's first attempts to speak to him, leaving Kagome floundering to respond.

"Keh, you could start with not being so rude, wench," he barked in annoyance. He walked up to the desk. His palms fell flat against the smooth surface. He hated dealing with 'new' people.

"I beg your pardon?" the curt brunette retorted. Her head bobbed from side to side in the midst of her righteous indignation.

"Feh, you should be begging my pardon." Inuyasha scoffed. He growled in anger and peered down his nose at the object of his annoyance. "Kaede is expecting me and the lady. So do your job and let her know Inuyasha is here."

The receptionist rolled her eyes. She tapped a pencil upon the desktop and leaned back in her chair. "Lady Kaede is teaching a class right now. If you want her, you can take a seat and wait."

Inuyasha smacked his hands upon the desktop and shouted, "Look, wench, get Kaede now or …"

"Or ye what, Inuyasha?" a strong voice cut in, interrupting his slight tantrum.

Inuyasha rolled his neck to look at the owner of the voice. A woman not more than Kagome's age stood in the doorway that barred off the back studios from the reception area. Her waist-length, red-brown hair was pulled back into a dancer's bun. A patch covered her left eye. Her thin lips were pursed into a severe expression. Long, slender arms crossed in front of her chest; the tip of one of her point shoes bounced up and down upon the floor as she tapped one foot. Despite her youthful grace, the lady Kaede had an air of wisdom that permeated from her in near tangible vibrations of spirit.

The rather sheepish bouncer swallowed hard. "Hello, Kaede," he said evenly. His voice no longer held the bite it had for the receptionist. "It's nice to see you."

"I could say the same for ye if ye would learn some manners." Her arms dropped in frustration, and she rolled her one good eye. "I believe I told ye 'no' on the phone, Inuyasha."

The man silently swore. He glanced back at Kagome, who looked rather uncomfortable and upset, and then again at Kaede. He had to do something quick. He had assured the woman who had wiggled her way into his life that everything was going to be all right, that he would fix it. After all, she only needed a place to prepare for the workshop. Unfortunately, Kaede had been rather stubborn on the phone. Not that he blamed her.

"Kaede," he pleaded and walked over to the woman. He grabbed her by the elbow and ushered her over to the far corner of the lobby, out of Kagome's earshot. "Please. All I'm asking is for her to be able to use one of the studios to prepare for her workshop."

Kaede shrugged off his grasp. Her delicate fingers poked him square in the chest. "Do not think ye have the right to ask anything. Ye drop off the face of the planet; ye cut contact with your family, with me, and ye think ye can just drop in after a year and half and asked for a favor." She paused in her rant, assessing Inuyasha. "And I don't even want to know what ye have done to ye hair."

The bouncer rolled his eyes of her least remark. "This isn't for me," he reasoned. He glanced to Kagome. His heart broke at the sight. Her face was scrunched; her eyes were downcast. Her chin quivered and Inuyasha knew that any second tears would follow the twitching motion. "Please. If she doesn't get a slot in her workshop at TU, she'll lose everything."

"And what be it to ye? Hmmm," the woman questioned. She crossed her arms and tilted her long slender neck so that her head was slightly off center.

"I explained all this on the phone; she's about to lose everything, Kaede," he reiterated. "Besides that's something I know a little about, that you know about." He took a deep breath, trying to damper his building frustration. His temper never worked with this female. She was always cool on the outside and only those who knew her could tell when she was angry. Inuyasha had a way of raising her hackles, but he didn't dare do anything else to sway her against his request. "I just — I don't want to see that happen to her."

Kaede's body sagged as she sighed. Her features softened just a fraction. "And if I help yer girl?"

Inuyasha's eyes fell away. He couldn't look the young woman in the eyes, the female that knew much more about his life than even Bankotsu and Jakotsu. If knowledge was power, than Kaede was the ruler of Inuyasha's world. Now that he had 'turned up,' all it would take was a phone call to his father, to the press, to anyone, and he would no longer be able to hide in obscurity. "She's — she's just a friend, but — what do you want — in exchange? You know if it's about money ..."

"Ye can keep yer money, Inuyasha," she cut in curtly. "I do not need it, nor do I appreciate ye thinking ye can just wave it around and get what ye want."

"You know that's not …"

Kaede threw up a hand, silencing the man. "Ye forget how long I've known ye. Yer family's been throwing its weight around for years." Her lips pursed into a sour expression. "If ye want me to help yer girl, then ye need to do something for me."

Her very tone made Inuyasha nervous. Kaede, although several years his junior, had been able to outmaneuver him since the day they met. Whatever her price, steep didn't quite cover it as an adequate description. He swallowed hard. "Name it," he relented. He gritted his teeth.

"Call yer father."

Inuyasha's back stiffened. "No. Name anything else, but _not_ that." The very thought of speaking to his old man set him on edge. It wasn't that his dad had really done anything grievous; he knew his father loved him. But, Inuyasha just couldn't be the person he was before. The very weight of his father's expectations stifled him to the point of madness when he was already on an emotional overload. He couldn't just pick up and move on; it bothered his father. And in the midst of his frustrations and pain, Inuyasha had done something stupid the evening of the funeral: He had mixed the pain medication he was taking for a sport's injury with several bottles of sake. He woke up in the hospital a day later, and then bowed out of his previous life without even waiting to be officially discharged from the hospital. The tabloid press had a field day with every detail of that horrid week he could never forget, but so desperately wanted to.

Kaede huffed, blowing air through her nose and making her nostrils flare slightly. Her jaw set with the same stubbornness he had learned to recognize in the woman's older sister. "Do ye know how worried Inutaisho be? He thinks ye dead, that it be only a matter of time before they find ye body in some secluded wood. And after the funeral, after ye tried to … I blame him not for thinking it of ye."

"That was an accident; I wasn't trying to …" he said defensively. He growled as he took a deep breath. He counted to ten, trying to tame his boiling blood. Reasoning with this woman was like reasoning with a tree. Once her roots were planted in an idea, she would not relinquish her ground. Although, it was always possible to sway her. "I'm just not ready to face him or to … I need more time."

"Fine. But if I agree, then ye must call ye father before yer girl's workshop. Agreed?"

He nodded his head once in affirmation. Perhaps Inuyasha could find a way out of their deal by the time the workshop came around. He was good at side-stepping her stubbornness, to the point that he had thought she had learned by now. "Thank you," he intoned sincerely. "You won't regret this."

"Aye, I know," she countered. "But ye will if ye try to get out of it." She arched the brow over her seeing eye and then directed her gaze to the rather upset girl at the other side of the lobby. "Girl," she called. She began to tap her slippers when Kagome didn't immediately respond. "Be ye a half-whit?"

Kagome jumped at the sudden address. Her head shook 'no', denying the ballerina's vagrant assault on her intelligence.

"Then come with me if ye wish to dance, girl." Kaede refocused her attention on the vexing man beside her. "Ye can pick her up in a few hours, Inuyasha." She rolled her eyes and mumbled something about inconsiderate men as she lead Kagome through the door that lead to the private studios.

———

The intensity of their murmurs made Kagome uneasy. Inuyasha acted like her getting studio time was a done deal, but apparently he had some issues to work out with a rather cross-looking dancer. Never wanting to be a burden, the young woman almost bolted out the door. She could feel the flame of embarrassment brandishing her cheeks a brilliant red. She didn't understand how he could do this to her. It broke her heart as much as losing her scholarship.

"Be ye a half-whit?"

The voice cut into her thoughts. She stared a bit dumbfounded at Inuyasha's companion, and then shook her head from side-to-side. A flagrant remark lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not spew it, lest she insult the woman who held her future in her hands.

"Then come with me if ye wish to dance, girl. Ye can pick her up in a few hours, Inuyasha." The words shocked Kagome. She half-expected to be exiting the studio in tears and with Yash cursing a blue-streak. She hadn't known him long, but was already used to his erratic temperament when something agitated him. The receptionist, to Kagome's embarrassment, received a taste of it when they arrived.

Kagome's entire body screamed with happiness. She flashed Inuyasha a smile, and he winked as she crossed the threshold to the inner sanctum of Hachioji Studio. It was nothing like she had imagined. The wide hallway was lined with windows and doors that lead to at least eight mirrored studios — four on each side. All eight studios were occupied with classes or individuals rehearsing. The bulk danced the traditional form Kagome aspired to master, but one of the studios, about twenty students were engaged in an upbeat dance, utilizing both modern and classical styles. The imagery they created with each movement of their bodies sang to the young woman. It was absolutely beautiful. She stopped in admiration.

"Keep up, girl," Kaede interrupted her thoughts. Kagome jumped at the sound of her voice, but she immediately fell back in step with the ballet mistress. "These be the private studios, where most of our classes be held; they also be rented for studio time," she explained to Kagome.

Reaching the end of the hallway before it veered to the right, Kaede opened a pair of double doors, which expanded into a room larger than the main studio at Tokyo University. The ballerina inhaled sharply. Never had she seen anything like it. Portable balance bars were lined up at the far end, along with production props and customs. The walls were lined on all four sides with floor to ceiling mirrors. The roof curved in an arch and skylight windows allowed the brilliant light of the sun to filter down, creating spotlights upon the perfectly polished floor.

"This be the main studio, if it not be obvious. Our larger classes be held in here, so be mindful not to disrupt." For the first time, Kaede smiled at the black-haired woman following her across the expanse. "Ye can cut through here though when classes not be in session." She stopped in front of a locked door and pulled out a small silver key. Kaede unlocked the wooden structure and pushed it open. Reaching in, she flipped the light switch.

Kagome followed Kaede into the smaller room. She spun in a circle, admiring the quaint feel. It was much like the other studios they passed, but there was a homey touch to it. A couch and chair sat upon a brown throw rug in the corner. Magazines rested haphazardly on a table beneath a reading lamp. A mini fridge sat atop a mini rolling pantry. Unlike the other studios, the high walls above the mirrors had poster-size dance pictures in a row. They all appeared to be of one woman in various costumes for different productions. Her black hair was drawn back into a bun in four of the images, but in the last, the sides were braided to form a crown on the top of her head. The wavy length cascaded down her back like water. The dancer had long, lean lines that curved perfectly. For a moment, a pang of jealousy crept over Kagome; she wanted to dance for a company, and the woman spinning, leaping and arabesquing in the posters lived it.

"This be my private studio," Kaede continued her explanation. She didn't miss how the ballerina stared at the posters upon the wall. Kaede often did the same thing. "Ye can prepare for ye workshop here since the rest be full-up for the next three months. And ye be welcome so long as the front doors be open."

Kagome's dark eyes glowed with happiness. This was all too much, more than she ever expected. Having gotten past the rough reception in the lobby, she couldn't believe that fate would be so kind. Yash Narita was coarse and rude, but he had a softer side, a gentle side that she absolutely adored. "Thank you — Kaede is it?"

"Aye, child. Kaede Narita, but you may call me Lady Kaede or Kaede. I stand not for formality." The ballet mistress shrugged. "Particularly since I be not much older than most who dance here, but they think it be necessary to give me title."

The student furrowed her brow at the sound of the familiar name. Was she related to Yash? Is that how he had managed to pull off such a miracle? "Narita? Are you Yash's sister?"

Kaede seemed to consider her for a moment. "In a way, child," she said with discretion. "Now, what be yer name or should I call ye girl and child when I be but a fraction yer elder?"

Kagome set her bag down promptly and bowed formerly to the lady. "Forgive me, Lady Kaede. My name is Kagome Higurashi. And I am very grateful for your assistance."

Kaede rolled her eye and pressed her lips into a frown. "Did I not just say I stand not for formality?"

The student's back immediately straightened. Their culture was built upon a foundation of respect, and yet, their generation had mixed a combination of western and eastern cultures. Although formality still ruled, a gray area had formed over the years. Clearly, Kaede preferred the gray area and had adopted a bit of western culture for herself. "Sorry. I — this — well — it just means a great deal to me. I don't know how much Yash told you, but I really — I just really appreciate it."

"Yer appreciation be noted, Kagome. Now, if ye be needing anything, just find me." Kaede left the ballerina to her own devices, shutting the door behind her.

Kagome stood in stunned silence. She spun around, soaking in the entire room once more. It had a note of perfection to it, and it was all hers for the next two months. Her entire body began to tingle as the magnitude of it all struck her. She bit her lip, trying to contain the energy, but it was no use. She launched her body into the air, flailing her limbs wildly as she let out a scream of utter joy. She owed Yash more than she ever could possibly repay.


	11. Lift Me Up

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Eleven: Lift Me Up**

"It's absolutely beautiful up here." Kagome stood at the edge of the _Seven_ building, looking out over the city. Although the structure was hardly the tallest in Tokyo, it stood above the other constructions in the area and thus allowed a perfect view of the sparkling city lights that shown as far as the eye could see. She closed her eyes as a gust of wind brushed over her body, shivering slightly from the cool air. Her hair floated on the breeze, dancing and swirling on the current.

"Keh. I like it," Inuyasha returned. He sat with his back pressed against the concrete wall meant to prevent anyone from falling off the edge of the building. A pair of chopsticks moved with def skill, shoveling ramen into his mouth. "Good place to get away from the noise," he added with his mouth full.

Kagome laughed at the comment. She had to agree that this place was peaceful, but even high above it all, the sounds of the city and the thumping of the club music reached them. It seemed that even in solitude, a person was never truly alone. The pulses of sound were a reminder of life, like a heartbeat — never silent, never still. Without the melodies of the city — the noise — the place they called home would be dead.

She had spent almost every evening for two weeks on this roof with Inuyasha, sharing a meal after he picked her up from the studio and looking out into the night. She wanted to do something special for him — for everything he'd done for her — but ideas had escaped her. She still didn't know him well enough to go into a store and pick up something, and even then, the idea of a random gift felt wrong. She wanted to do something special for him to reflect how much his effort to get her time at Hachioji Studio meant to her. For the time being, the dancer had settled for dinner and conversation, which meant ramen and rooftops.

Kagome didn't mind the hows or whys of the time she spent with Yash. The important thing to her was just being with him. It seemed like the closest thing to a date she was going to get out of him anyway. Although he claimed not to be angry, he wasn't exactly open to the idea of making up their missed date. In fact, his demeanor was much more guarded and standoffish at times — the way it was when they met. The only difference was that he reserved his curt commentary for others and not her. She sighed. This was the next best thing, she decided, and well worth it. She loved this place, but mostly, she loved being with Inuyasha — even when he talked with his mouth full of ramen.

"Why are you laughing? I'm not kidding," he mumbled after slurping several more strands of noodle. The words came out slightly inaudible, leaving Kagome to decipher his protest. His amber-gold eyes narrowed upon her.

Kagome shifted her gaze to meet his. Her face practically glowed from the smile reaching her dark, expressive eyes. "Yash, has it escape your attention that you can still hear everything — people, car horns, the music below?"

He swallowed the last little bit of his noodles and set the bowl to the side. "No." He brushed his hands on his jeans and stood up behind and to the left of Kagome, taking in the cityscape. "It's just that up here, you don't have all the people and the music doesn't drown out everything. It's sedate, pleasant and you can think without all the distractions."

"I understand," the dancer said. "I love feeling every pulse of music, but when it's too loud ..."

"Feh. Whatever." Inuyasha shrugged. "It's just nice up here is all I was saying."

Kagome looked over her shoulder, admiring her companion. His long dark hair whipped slightly in the breeze. The features of his face were soft, calm. She preferred this simple expression. Whenever they were around other people, his brow would crease in annoyance and it didn't take much for his hackles to go up. He was short-tempered and rude, as if he lacked adequate social skills. But Kagome knew he had them, for he was ever the gentleman where she was concerned.

Inuyasha looked to the young woman. "What are you staring at?" he questioned. He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, completely uneasy with the depth of her attention.

"Just you," she said softly. She couldn't break her gaze though; the suns of his eyes burned with an intensity that she desperately wanted to explore. The very thought made her cheeks flush red, and she avert her eyes, missing the same heated response on Inuyasha's face.

The pair stood in quiet reflection, reveling in the ambiance of the city night while the awkwardness passed. It was in these brief passages of time that Kagome felt like the weight of the world rested upon someone else. Her shoulders no longer burned with frustration and fear of the upcoming months.

Out there, juggling her last term of school, trying to prepare for the workshop, and avoiding her best friend and family had made her feel practically ill from nerves. The stress of it affected her dancing to the point that she wondered if fighting for her dream was really worth the agony. She kept telling herself 'yes,' that it would all work out. But uncertainty still danced at the fringes of her thoughts. She sighed, once more redirecting her mind to happier things.

Earlier in the week, she had finally placed an ad in _Japan Times_, looking for the man who had saved her life. Even when it felt like it was all falling to pieces, she still felt the need to thank the one person who had given her a second chance. Without him, she realized, she would have never met Yash Narita, an enduring soul despite social deficiencies. The bouncer was rapidly becoming tied to her happiness, and she doubted he knew it.

No one had phoned yet, but the lady in the classified department had told her not to worry if she didn't receive a response immediately. The average response to a sales ad, room-for-rent, etc., usually didn't come until after it had run for a few days and over a weekend. For that reason, Kagome had made sure the ad would run every Sunday for the next month — she could always call and cancel it.

Kagome lifted her arm slightly so that her hand brushed Inuyasha's. She let the electricity of the graze tingle up her arm for a few seconds before feeling embolden enough to actually take his hand in hers. Turning slightly, she leaned into his lanky form.

Inuyasha dropped his chin, redirecting his attention to Kagome, and gulped. "Ka-go-me?" His pink tongued flicked out, licking his lower lip.

"Hmm?" she responded, smiling inwardly because she could tell her actions had thrown him off. But sometimes a girl had to take fate into her hands, and she seriously doubted that Yash would make the first move if she didn't nudge him in that direction.

"How — how are your rehearsals going? You — you don't talk much about them," he practically stuttered out. His body remained tense at her side, but he made no move to put distance between them.

"Ok," she admitted, her tone tinged with a hint that she was holding back. Although she had managed to choreograph a four-minute routine for her audition, she still struggled with the same positions she had for months. No matter how well she danced, if she were limited in any way, her dreams would melt away into nothingness.

"Will you show me your routine?" Inuyasha asked. His body started to relax. He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her back into his chest.

Kagome melted into his embrace. She closed her eyes, shutting out everything except the scent and warmth of the man behind her, while she pondered his question. She hadn't even let Kaede see what she had come up with, but perhaps it was time to get a second viewpoint. Even if Inuyasha wasn't a dancer, he at least could give her an opinion. "Since you asked so nicely."

Reluctantly, the woman withdrew from the shelter of his embrace. She moved to the center of the rooftop on the other side of a series of peaked skylights, but parallel to Yash. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had never had a problem with stage fright, but having an audience of one — specifically Inuyasha — made her a bit nervous.

Finding her center, she placed her body in her opening position — feet in first position with her arms folded across her chest. She felt the pulse of the band playing on the main floor vibrating up through her feet. Counting off to the tempo of the pulsations, she began her choreography — a neo-classical ballet montage that also incorporated some of the steps she had picked up by watching the modern dance class.

With each beat, her confidence grew and Kagome lost herself to the art form of grace. She shifted her weight from leg-to-leg and then settled on her right leg to support her as her left leg worked, completely forgetting her dilemma. She rose to the point of her slipper-like Mary Jane flats. She extended her left leg and begun to spin. She let go of her center of gravity as she rotated, whipping her neck. It was a beautiful move — simple and graceful — and Kagome pulled it off. She took two steps on the tips of both shoes and then tried it again. She had choreographed a sequence of three such spins. She rose again on her right leg but this time when she extended her left leg to begin the rotation again, her ankle buckled. Lost in the moment and feel of the dance, she caught the protest of her body too late and toppled with a startled yelp. A sharp exhale of air escaped when her tiny form didn't smack against the gravel-top roof.

"Are you all right?" Inuyasha asked. He cradled the tense woman in his arms. Kagome nodded in affirmation. Her muscles relaxed and he set her back on her feet. "I wouldn't recommend doing that in the workshop."

"That's the problem … it always happens." Kagome didn't bother to filter the frustration from her voice. "This is why I lost my scholarship. My stupid ankle." Her throat choked and salty-tears formed at the edges of her eyes.

Inuyasha ran a hand through her dark hair, brushing it behind her ear. He cupped her face with his hands and gently whipped away the droplets that dared fall. "None of that, Princess," he ordered. His soothing voice was echoed by a reassuring smile. "We still have time to fix you."

"_We_?" she asked in disbelief. Had he meant to use the plural and include himself in her life?

The bouncer shrugged. "_We_," he emphasized. "You didn't think you were in this alone, did you?"

The dancer took a moment to process his words. To her joy, he had just inserting himself in her life in much the same way she had inserted herself into his. Kagome lurched forward, breaking his contact with her face, and encircled him in a hug. She rested her head against Inuyasha's chest, enjoying a perfect moment in time formed by such simple actions. He made the world feel safe; he made all her troubles disappear.

She inhaled deeply, taking in his masculine scent. "Inuyasha," she whispered into the cloth of his shirt.

"Yes?" he asked. His chin moved, resting upon the crown of her head.

"Thank you — for everything."

"Feh. It's nothing," he dismissed in his usually short tone.

Kagome tightened her hold on the bouncer. No matter how many times she said 'thank you,' he seemed to never hear it. She hated the walls around his heart, that inability to let an emotion as simple as gratitude pass through the filters and merge into something positive within his soul. A piece of her knew he heard her every time. For that reason, she remained patient and at his side. Perhaps someday he would let her completely in.

Despite the radiating warmth between them, Kagome shivered when a gust of wind struck. The shudder broke the spell keeping her in his arms. Reluctantly, she whispered, "Let's go inside, Yash. We can't hide up here forever."

"Keh." He nuzzled his face into the side of her hair, inhaling her fragrance one last time. Kagome didn't know it, but she had already worked her way into his soul.

———

A few hours later, Kagome sat at the end of the bar. She sipped on one of Jakotsu's concoctions, debating whether she liked the fruity blend. She stared at the pulp swirling in the bowl-size glass. "At least there is some nutritional value to what Jak makes," she mused quietly.

After dinner on the roof, they had come back downstairs. Most evenings were pretty low-key for Inuyasha. He could typically hang out with her, fetch stuff for Jak and then he would take her home after closing. If she had a test, Bankotsu was even nice enough to let her study in his office. Other nights, she'd dance until the music stopped and Jak would fill her full of his strange concoctions; she usually ended up crashing at Yash's then. But those were rare occasions: Three to be exact.

Tonight was a bit odd. Shortly after returning downstairs, a fight started on the balcony. Two drunken guys fought over a girl, whose shrill screams still grated on Kagome's nerves when she thought about it. The ruckus had quickly spread to include their friends. It took the entire security crew to break up the fray.

A sense of pride had actually filled Kagome at the sight of Inuyasha in action. He had saved her the first night in the club, but his movements were quick and few. She was no stranger to fighting tournaments; she went to cheer Sango on. But watching Yash was like something out of an action movie. She recognized the grappling movements of judo, combined with other martial skills she couldn't begin to place. While the others tried to restrain the brawlers, the lead bouncer was quickly taking them down at twice the speed. However, his moves had switched to full out offense when someone had come at him with a knife. Kagome had shrieked at the sight, but after her friend disarmed the man, Yash kept moving. She had quickly dismissed any worry.

By the end of the brawl, the police had been called; two idiots had fallen over the balcony and were on their way to the hospital by ambulance; others were being patched up out front by paramedics before the police hauled them off; Yash had disappeared while Bankotsu spoke to the police; and the club had been closed. All of which left the dancer waiting for Inuyasha to reappear in an empty room — except for the security staff — and Jakotsu occasionally pushing a drink under her nose.

The entire event had killed the afterglow of her rooftop venture.

Kagome sighed, glancing up from the beverage to the feminine bartender. The music had ceased long ago, but it didn't stop Jakotsu from swishing his hips about as he worked. He ran a wet cloth over the countertops, cleaning up the surface after dumping glasses into a small sink.

When she first met Jakotsu, she had wondered if anything could get the happy man down. However, after the date incident, Jak had made it a point to _warn_ Kagome about hurting _his_ Yash again. The edge in his tone had been unsettling, but sharp enough for the student to get the point. The warning was irrelevant, however; Kagome had no intention of ever hurting Yash again. The bouncer just meant too much to her.

"Hey, Jak?" she called. He stopped his cleaning. "Can I ask you something?"

The bartender sauntered over and leaned on the bar top in front of the lady. "Kags, honey, why do you always asked me if you can ask me something? Just ask, sugar."

The young woman's cheeks flushed crimson. "Sorry." Jak did have a point. "It's just — well you know Yash pretty well, don't you?"

Jak arched a brow. "Yash Narita: The riddle wrapped in a puzzle and secured with crazy glue." He chuckled. "There are things that not even I know about him — but yes, I think I know him well enough." He placed a hand atop of hers, squeezing it affectionately. "Now what's floating behind those deep chocolate eyes of yours?"

Kagome's face beamed with happiness. "You are fantastic, you know that?" she stated as a precursor to what she really wanted to know. "Anyway, Yash has been kind of helping me out with some things and well …" She shifted on the stool, fidgeting a bit. Her brow knitted as she thought about her words. "I — I kind of wanted to return the favor. Do you have any suggestions?"

One edge of Jakotsu's mouth curved upward. "Oh I know what you could give him …" he insinuated.

The woman's face turned fire-engine red and she averted her eyes. "Jak!" she barked, completely shocked.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I know you have a crush on our Yash and despite how he tries to hide it, the boy has it bad for you …" Jakotsu shrugged. "Simple math, honey, simple math."

Kagome huffed, returning her attention to the bartender. "I don't — I mean he doesn't," she defended. Finally giving up the protest, she scoffed in indignation. "Look, Jak. I appreciate the help, but I had something else in mind. A gift maybe — something he'd like or something he likes to do." As feminine as Jakotsu was, it amazed her how quickly he could take a conversation to the toilet with as much grace as any other man.

Jakotsu patted her cheek. "Take all my fun away, Kagsy," he said dejectedly. "That boy could use some love in his life." His hand fell away from her face only for him to tap his pointer finger against his lips as he tried to decide on the perfect idea. His face brightened like the sun. "Oh, I think I have it." He clapped happily.

"What?" His enthusiasm infected her; her voice shot up, cracking with the exhaled word. She winced at the sound and silent prayed her voice wouldn't do that for the rest of her life. It embarrassed her greatly.

"Obviously you saw him fight tonight." Jakotsu leaned in a little closer. "Quiet good, isn't he?"

Kagome rolled her eyes. Good — she hadn't even seen Sango fight with as much intensity as Inuyasha had, and her best friend could be quite cunning in her matches. "That's an understatement."

"Hmm, anyway, when …" He paused, pursing his lips into a deep frown. "Oh, I probably shouldn't tell you this." The odds of losing one's head for betraying Yash's secrets were pretty decent in the bouncer's favor.

"Jakotsu!" The shout caught the attention of every body still in the room. Kagome shrunk down in her seat when she realized that everyone had turned to look at her. The bartender could be quite exasperating.

Jak rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't tell Yash I told you, 'cause he'd skewer me — literally — and probably with a blunt object." He made sure the point had been made before continuing at a whisper. "Anyway, after the fall out with his family, he was in some trouble and ended up pawning something for cash."

Kagome leaned in closer to hear the hushed words, making a mental note to find out more about her friend's family later. "What?"

"For his sixteenth birthday, his father gave him a sword — Yash is really good with swords — the Tetsusaiga. His father had it crafted by one of the best smiths in Japan, and Yash loved it." He bit his lip. His eyes flitted about to make sure no one was overhearing their quiet exchange. "I'm not sure why he hasn't gotten it back yet, but the last time I passed the pawn shop, it was still there."

Kagome couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing Jakotsu on the cheek. "Jak. I love you — and I mean that strictly platonic. But this is perfect. Will you write down the name and address for me?" She flashed a brilliant smile.

"No problem, honey." Jakotsu searched for one of the waitresses' notepads and scribbled on the lined parchment. He ripped it off and handed it to her.

The dancer took the slip and shoved it in her pocket. "Thank you, Jak. Now, do you know where Yash went? He disappeared after the fight and I'm getting a bit tired."

"He's upstairs in the office, more than likely. He tends to hid when the cops come around," the bartender said passively, as if such behavior was everyday occurrence.

Her brow creased in a quizzical fashion. "Why?"

"He's shy," Jak lied. He jerked his head toward the door to the back. "Come on, I'll let you upstairs."

———

Inuyasha let out a pathetic groan. His right hand clutched his shirtless stomach, applying pressure to the bandage wrapped tightly around his midsection. He set down the roll of gauze on the edge of the small sink in Bankotsu's office and then closed up the bottle of antiseptic with his free hand.

A throb of pain shot through his side. He clutched the edge of the sink, trying not to double over. He cursed a slew of words unfit for polite society and then lifted his hunched form back upright. Still keeping one hand over the source, he used the other to sift in the cabinet above for a medicine bottle he stashed at the club in cased of emergencies. This qualified.

During the fight, he had taken down an idiot who actually had the audacity to draw a knife on him. His blood had been pumping and his focused had solely remained on the targets around him. After all, when in battle, nothing outside the arena existed — not even pain. It wasn't until after he had helped secure the men involved in the disturbance, and his blood began to cool, that he became aware of the slight sting at his side. His hand covered the offending muscles and when he pulled his hand away, he noticed the damp section of his shirt along the mid-line and the smear of fresh blood upon his hand. It didn't take a fool to realize what had happened — the drunkard had managed to stab him as he lunged forward and just before the bouncer could side-step him.

He fiddled with the top of the child-proofed pill container. The pills rattled about with increasing vigor as his frustration peaked. He growled deep in his throat, almost threatening the dispenser, before it yielded to his will and the cap popped off. With a sigh of relief, he dumped three Vicodin into the palm of his hand. It was over-kill, but so was the pain in his side. He lifted his palm, dropping the tablets into his mouth and swallowed them one-by-one without any water. He then haphazardly recapped the bottle and set it on the sink's edge.

Yash inhaled as deep as he could without eliciting pain. With each shuffle of his feet, a curse crossed his lips, until finally he made it to the sofa and dropped on it in a heap. One leg hung off the couch, while his right hand continued to apply pressure to the wound. A sane man would have hitched a ride in one of the ambulances — but no one ever claimed sanity for Yash Narita.

His decision to treat himself had stemmed from his sense of self preservation. To go to the hospital would mean revealing certain details about himself — like his real name for starters. And, even with privacy laws, his very name would draw the attention of the paparazzi and his father. He had lived anonymously since _her_ death, since he gave up his life of privileged and all the things that had made him the person he was _before_. He had lost himself without _her_. Although he didn't like the person he had become, he wasn't ready to return to his old life when that didn't feel right either.

So, he stayed at the club, checked the wound, cleaned and stitched it, and then wrapped it with gauze. It was field medicine and best done under painkillers, but those had to wait until he finished. He needed his mind clear and his hands steady as he drew upon knowledge forged in his old life. Back then, he was first in his pre-med class on his way to the best medical school in Japan; back then he was a top-ranked national fighter and a year away from representing Japan on its Olympic team; back then, he had it all, because having _her_ by his side made everything he did worth while. And when _she_ died … nothing was worth trying for.

He closed his eyes, relaxing into the gentle wave the Vicodin created within. He felt as if he was floating and disconnected from the tangible world. It was a strange sensation, but pleasant and much better than feeling all the aches and pains of life. He sighed.

"Inuyasha?"

A gentle voice called to him. Whose? He wasn't sure, but he knew he loved to hear it. His eyes fluttered open, looking at his addresser. Onyx hair framed a round face with the most beautiful chocolate eyes he ever had the pleasure of getting lost in. He extended his arm and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Hi," he said a bit groggily. His thumb stroked the soft lines of her jaw.

"You're hurt!" Worry filled those gentle orbs. Her tiny hands skimmed over his body, assessing for themselves the extent of the damage to his body.

"It's nothing, beautiful," he said sweetly. She was beautiful after all — like an angel. He raised his hand from his wound, reaching out to touch the specks of light haloing this heavenly creature.

The woman inhaled sharply. "You should be in the hospital." Her face was etched with a look of horror, but it only seemed to amuse the man.

He smiled widely, letting out a small chuckle. "I'm fine, my love; I swear. You know I've been through worse." The hand fishing for the light gave up its quest and instead found the long strands of her silken mane. He ran his hand through it.

The innocent creature tilted her head to the side, gazing at him curiously. "Yash. I really think I should take you to the hospital."

His hand slide to the back of her neck and he pulled her close to him. Her lips were but a breath away. "I'm fine. It's just the painkillers," he reasoned, and then pulled her into a gentle, yet strong kiss. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her lips. It was different than he remembered, so much sweeter, like a cherry at peak flavor, and it enticed him to search for more from it. He deepened the kiss by lifting his neck off the sofa arm and wrapping his arms firmly around her. And only when he couldn't breath did he pull away and return to caressing the frame of her face. "I love you," he whispered.

The girl sat stiffly, slightly stunned at his advance. "Yash?" she questioned.

He halted his ministrations and cupped his hands once more at her cheeks. "You should get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow."

"Yash, I really think I should go get Bankotsu at least." She pulled her face out of his embrace. Clutching his hands, she lowered them back down to his chest and continued to hold them there just in case he tried to kiss her again. "You're — you're really starting to scare me."

"Kikyo," he breathed her name. "Just come to bed." He pulled on her hands, drawing the woman partly onto the coach with him. He hugged her close and stroked her hair. "Tomorrow, everything will be fine." He yawned and nuzzled his face into the side of her hair, drifting off to sleep.

———

Beneath his grasp, Kagome shook with rage. What was it he had called her? Kikyo? Who was Kikyo? The question made frantic play to overshadow all other rational thought. She gritted her teeth and forcefully pulled away from the man she cared for, the man who had just kissed her, the man who had just betrayed every heartfelt emotion she had ever sought to share.

"Inuyasha!" she said in her fury, but the slumbering man did not stir. Instead, he rolled slightly into the warmth of the cushions. Of course, this only angered the young woman more. "Inuyasha Narita! Wake up this instant!"

She scooted her knees back and stomped to her feet. Her hands flew to her hips as her once warm and loving eyes now blazed with enough fire to scorch the earth. "Inuyasha!" she shouted again.

"Damn, woman, why are you yelling?" he muttered, but didn't bother to open his eyes.

The words sent her over the edge and spiraling back down into an emotional mess. Hot, salty tears formed in the corners of her eyes. They fell one-by-one like rain drops, and then poured down her cheeks like a summer storm. "You idiot!" she roared. She glared down her noise at Inuyasha, cursing the day they met. She funneled every ounce of negative energy bottled in her soul into that one deadly gaze. She hated him in that moment, because apparently, she was only a substitute.

Her entire body shuddered and the tears fell harder. Stomping, she turned on her heel and marched toward the door. She grabbed her dance bag and her coat, and headed out the exit. Blinding by the waterworks, she ran smack into a firm chest. She glanced up through the hazy veil to the face of a wide-eyed Bankotsu. His hands already grasped her shoulders.

"Kagome?" he asked, puzzled by her appearance. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled. "Tell that idiot, when he wakes up, to stay away from me," she choked out and then tried to push past the man.

Not willing to let her leave without an explanation, Bankotsu clutched her shoulders again and swung the dancer back inside the office. "What happened, Kagome?" He wore a stern expression, but the tone, at least, was kind.

"He — he kissed me!" she practically wailed. The woman wanted to die of embarrassment, especially because of the name Yash spoke after. Her tear-stained cheeks flushed.

Bankotsu's eyebrows shot up. "And that's a bad thing?"

"And then he called me … oh, I don't know what he called me but it sure as hell wasn't my name." Overwhelmed, she hugged Bankotsu and buried her face into his chest, sobbing like a little girl. Why couldn't Yash have kissed her? She'd been patient; she'd bid her time, giving him opportunities and signs. Yet, when he finally did, he had completely ruined it.

Although surprised by her embrace, Bankotsu easily succumbed to the distraught woman. At first taken back by what she said, he was shocked and then appalled at his friend's utter stupidity. "Kikyo?" he asked evenly. He closed his eyes in silent prayer that she would say 'no.'

She nodded against his chest, affirming the cursed name. Kagome withdrew. Angrily, she used the back of her hand to rub the moisture from her face. "Who is she, Bank? And, why? Why did he have to call me by _her_ name?"

He held nothing but pity for the beautiful creature in that moment. "I cannot tell you, Kagome, but he does care about you."

The dancer scoffed. "I doubt that. I'm just a stand-in for some ho he's trying to get over."

Bankotsu growled menacingly. "Watch your tongue," he barked. His sympathetic expression quickly switched to one of anger. "The only things you need to know about her is that she died, he loved her, he's had a hard time moving on, but he adores you. So you can either accept it or get the hell out of his life now before you hurt him."

Almost instantly her tears stopped flowing. Life before Yash wasn't horrible, but it wasn't fantastic either. Life since had been fun, engaging, exciting and she finally felt alive. In a single moment, a life could be defined; choices changed destiny. She didn't want to choose a life without him, even though her heart was breaking.

"I," she started. She glanced back at the prone form on the coach with his limbs stuck out like branches. Kagome bit her lip; she could still taste him there. She still felt the warmth that his presence gave to her soul. He picked her up when she fell down; he lifted her up before she could ever hit the ground. There was no walking away now.

She returned her attention to the bouncer's boss and friend. All hatred melted away, yet the remnants of her pain still colored her cheeks. "I think I'm in love with him," she confessed in a whisper. Her chin dropped and she closed her eyes.

Bankotsu took a deep breath. "Good," he simply stated. He side-stepped Kagome and crossed to the sink. Picking up the medicine bottle, he read it, swore and then put it back into the cabinet. The first aid supplies followed. "Kagome, I want you to help me get him home, then, if you'd like, I'll take you back to the university." He closed up the cabinets and then faced the dancer. "I think it probably best you — you not say anything to him about this. He does care for you, but I'm not sure how he'll react tomorrow once the Vicodin wears off if you ask him about _her_." He ran a hand through the shorter ends of his hair. "Not even I get away with mentioning _her_ name — and the one time I did, he disappeared for two weeks. I'd hate to see him cut you out of his life."

"Why's that?" she asked at a whisper, still overwhelmed by the emotions ripping her to pieces. Her sad eyes focused on the tips of her shoes.

"Because, Kagome, I'm pretty sure he's in love with you, too."

Her chin shot up. How could he think Yash loved her? Could he have said something? Her mind raced with wonder. The bouncer did, after all, share more with Bank then anyone. The thought that Inuyasha might love her made her entire body glow until the shock of Bank's words passed. There was no way he could love her, not when his heart still belonged to someone else.

Kagome glanced back at the man on the couch. The right road to take — to stay with him or walk away — was undefined, but she knew which path she'd choose tonight and where she'd be when he awoke.

——


	12. Falling Apart at the Seams

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

——

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Twelve: Falling Apart at the Seams**

Inuyasha groaned loudly. His legs writhed in his bed, kicking off the blanket covering his boxer-clad form. He cracked an eye, peering at his surroundings. It was hot in the room; his throat was dry and his body ached all over. His skin felt clammy. What was wrong with him?

He rolled to his side, immediately regretting the movement. A sharp pain radiated from his side, overwhelming his senses. He cried out and curled into a tight ball. His hands clutched at the source. "I think I'm going to die," he muttered in distress.

"Then, will you please let me take you to the hospital?" A feminine voice filtered through the darkness. He felt the shift of the mattress as the owner sat down beside him. Her hands caressed his face, brushing back his hair in an attempt to soothe his agony. "Inuyasha, please."

"Kagome?" he asked softly. Blinking his eyes, his vision found the frame of her face in the low-light. What was she doing there? Hadn't he taken her home last night? Not that he minded. The dancer had become a permanent fixture in his life. He even found he missed her when she was in school or at the studio, not that he would admit that to anyone.

"I'm here," she comforted. "Please, let me take you."

Why would he need to go to the hospital? What had happened the night before? He waited for the pain to settle and tossed those questions around in his mind. He remembered the rooftop, Kagome's routine and holding her in his arms. He recalled sitting at the bar, laughing at one of her jokes. He had leaned in and whispered in her ear. Although he couldn't recollect the words, he couldn't forget the tint of pink that stained the apples of her cheeks. Following that moment, a fight erupted and had pulled him away from his friend.

His side throbbed again as if to tell him he was on the right track. He cursed his stupidity. His very existence as Yash Narita depended on living a low-key existence. Having a drunkard stab him in a bar fight was one of those things that would have angered his father. Inutaisho would have yelled over his ignorance — and then had his youngest son work on defensive moves until he could block any cut threatening his midsection. His father was a good man, but there had been times in his life that he needed his father to be a dad, not a coach. Their fight after the funeral had been one such circumstance.

Inuyasha had been in pieces. He couldn't sleep, because when he did, he saw Kikyo's face. He barely spoke and couldn't even handle the arrangements for the funeral. He couldn't even bring himself to go to the hospital where Kaede had been admitted, because the young woman had survived and her sister had not. The entire week felt like a waking dream, and he barely made it through the motions of life.

And then the day of the funeral arrived. Inuyasha had sat in silence through all the prayers and memorials. He ignored the crowd and didn't respond to the condolences coming from people he had never met, but had come out of respect for his family name. The crowd had slowly dispersed. As it did, his father actually spoke more than a handful of words to him. Inutaisho had gripped his shoulder and jumped right to business — his tournament fighting and starting medical school the next month. Inuyasha had just snapped and stormed off. Some time after the funeral, alone in the house that had been _their_ home, he had polished off a bottle of sake and apparently took another course of pain meds. He still had no idea who found him, just that he awoke at Takahashi Hospital to his father's voice. The older family member was screaming at one of the nurses down the hall.

Inuyasha really should have gone to the hospital last night. The wound had been fairly deep, but from his assessment, it only warranted a set of stitches and pain pills — both of which he could handle on his own. Besides, acting as surgeon meant not facing his sticky past or visiting a hospital he hated. His father had ways of finding things out, and Inuyasha didn't want to add any more fuel to the fire of his father's disappointment. For a long time, the bouncer felt justified in his choice, but lately, a new emotion had begun to seed. He actually felt ashamed for shutting out everyone who loved him.

Slowly, he uncurled his body to gingerly reposition to his back. He dragged his hand across his stomach to pull up his shirt, only to realize he wasn't wearing on. He had wrapped bandages around his mid-section. A thin line of pink stained the gauze over the wound. "I'll be all right, Kagome," he said. His throat was so parched, it hurt. "Can you get me some water and then help me with the bandages. I need to clean the cut and rewrap it." He offered her a weak smile.

She crossed her arms across her chest. Her chin dropped and she pursed her lips into a frown. "Just so you know, Yash. I disapprove," she said curtly. She stomped her way through the studio apartment, grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets near the bathroom and then filled it with tap water. She returned to his bedside and thrust the cylinder at him.

He took the glass and carefully propped up on an elbow to drink the refreshing fluid. When he was finished, he handed it back to the annoyed woman, who promptly set it on the floor, and then he collapsed back onto the bed. He remained silent for a few moments, giving his mind time to reach a fully cognitive state. Now that he was awake, he didn't feel initially as bad as he had in those first few seconds. He was hot, sticky, in desperate need of a bath, yet the rest of his body seemed to be fine. Vicodin had a strange effect on him. He blamed it for his laps in memory and the heavy grogginess muddling his mind.

He ran his tongue over his chapped lips as he reached for Kagome's hand. "I promise you, Princess," he endured. "I'm fine. Help me with the bandage and you can see for yourself." He smiled, but for some reason, she wouldn't look him in the eyes. That was even more disconcerting than waking up in his apartment. Hadn't he fallen asleep at the club? His brow furrowed; he was missing something.

"Don't call me princess," Kagome retorted hotly. She gruffly pulled her hand away and picked up the first aid kit Bankotsu had sent with her. She flipped it open roughly. The dancer gnashed her teeth in annoyance.

Noting all of the physical signs, Inuyasha was convinced that something was not right with girl. Whatever upset her had to have come during the blank spot in his memories. Some point after the Vicodin and before waking up in his bed. He needed to know what if he was going to make it right. He usually didn't care who he angered or annoyed, but it irritated him profusely that she felt such emotions toward him.

He dropped his hand down onto the first aid kit, stilling her riffling. "Ka-go-me," he said slowly. When she still wouldn't look at him, he squeezed her hand affectionately and drew it toward his chest. He massaged the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. "Are you angry with me?" he asked in seriousness. His golden eyes did not waiver from her shadowed face.

Kagome scoffed in indignation. She let her anger bubble forth and then quickly suppressed it. The real reason behind her ire she couldn't share without risking losing him entirely. She had decided in the night to heed Bankotsu's advice. She sighed and tried her best to let the negative sentiments pass. "Yes and no, Yash. But it's nothing."

He pulled her hand up to his lips and pressed them to the peak of her knuckles. "If it was nothing, then why won't you look at me?" He hated this, especially when he was so easily lost in the chocolate pools of her eyes. They were fathomless, emotional and beautiful, and they revealed the very essence of her artistic soul. The dancer finally shifted her gaze, looking him in the eyes. The weight of the accusations he found there made him almost regret asking the question.

"It's nothing," she reiterated, and then lied to mask her pain. "I've just been up all night. I'm tired and I was a little afraid …" she didn't complete her thoughts.

"I didn't do anything stupid did I?" he asked pointedly. Somehow he knew he had, but the details lingered on the fringes of his thoughts.

She remained silent as if thinking about the correct response. "No, Yash." She lied again.

"Keh," he said with relief. "Vicodin makes me a little … off. Bank told me one time I started packing the contents of the bar at the club and when he asked why, I told him because it was time to move." He smiled ruefully and chuckled. "I don't remember it, so if I did do something — _strange_ — I really hope you'd tell me, Kagome. I — well —" He released her hand in favor of lightly caressing her cheek. "— couldn't stand it if you were mad at me."

"I'm not mad." Technically, she lied for a third time, but was desperately trying to keep to her convictions and heed Bankotsu's advice. Kagome's hand covered his at her face. She slowly curled her fingers around it and then lowered them both down to his chest. She squeezed his hand affectionately. Returning to the first aid kit, she pulled out the gauze and then starting to take care of his old dressing. "I was just worried, Yash. You should have gone to the hospital." She looked up from her work to glare at him. "You are positively stubborn and pig-headed."

He laughed quietly. It wasn't the first time he had been accused of such things, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Yash had a tendency to bark at the person who dared call him on those traits, but he really didn't mind Kagome's evaluations anymore. She had a tendency of calling him on his crap, regardless of his reactions, and still remained even after he would snap at her. Nothing he did drove her away, and that alone had softened his heart toward her. "If I were anything else, I wouldn't be me."

Kagome rolled her eyes. "True, but life would be easier if you'd show a little common sense." She tugged the last length of the gauze, revealing the gash and the row of stitches keeping it together. The tips of her fingers grazed the defined muscles of his stomach near the wound. They twitched under her caress. Her tongue wet her soft-pink lips.

Inuyasha sucked in a breath as his abdomen muscles rolled. His stomach flipped as if a thousand butterflies had just hatched. He loved it when she licked her lips. For awhile, he had fought the urge to crush his upon hers and find the root of the power hypnotizing him. He always shook off the desire, though. A piece of him still felt as if he was betraying the woman he loved every time he shared a perfect moment with Kagome. He had vowed to love Kikyo and devoted his life to her. These moments were supposed to be with her, and yet, Kagome …

He swallowed hard and forced his body into a sitting position. He slouched forward to keep from stretching the damaged flesh. "I'll finish this," he told her, taking the fresh bandages from her. He dropped his legs off the side of the bed. He made sure the cut wasn't infected by pressing on it a few times and checking for any discoloration.

Feeling slightly dejected, Kagome stood up from the bed and picked up a few things scattered around the bed and threw them into her dance bag. "Yash, if you're feeling all right. I think I'm going to go."

He stopped mid-wrap to look up at the raven-haired beauty. Her back was too him. "Do you want me to pick you up from the studio tonight?" Yash sensed it again, the quiet anger radiating off her in waves.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder and then went back to packing her things. "No. I have a few tests coming up and the workshop to prepare for. I'll just have Sango pick me up. I don't think I can spend as much time at the club as I — as I have been. It's affecting my school work."

"Keh." Yash furrowed his brow. "If you think that's best." How could he argue when he had no idea what he was arguing against? Her logic was sound, but there was something underlying, something she was hiding. Kagome was mad at him.

The dancer slung the bag over her shoulder. She fished in her pocket and handed him her cell phone. "If you need anything, call Bankotsu. He also said to tell you not to bother to show up to work until your side heals."

"Feh, like Bank could stop me," Inuyasha dismissed his boss' forwarded command. He then tried to hand her phone back to her. "And if I have your phone, how am I supposed to reach you?" He jostled the device, trying to make her take it.

Kagome shook her head 'no.' "I know my number, Yash. It's not like I cannot call you."

That made sense, but he had the distinct feeling she wasn't going to call — at least not for awhile. "Keh." He drew out the single syllable longer than it needed to be. She confused him immensely. "Then I guess I'll see you in a few days?"

"Yeah, sure, Yash." Her tone was less than enthusiastic. "A few days." She avoided his gaze. The young woman hesitated briefly, as if she had more to say, but like a coward, she marched to the door without another word.

"Damn," he swore when the door closed. He shut his eyes, trying to find the moment that had changed their relationship. He looked down at the pink cell phone in his hand. She'd have to get it back at some point, so at least he knew she hadn't walked out the door for good.

———

Reasoning away truth when it didn't suit a person's purpose didn't change fact, it only created fiction. Kagome felt like a naïve heroine in a romance novel that reasoned away all faults and the very fabric of reality to see something that just wasn't there. Every moment with Yash felt like a lie. She second-guessed every look, every touch, even what Bankotsu had told her. She was a stand in, not the one Inuyasha wanted, and no matter how she tried to believe she'd get past it — to just remain by his side — her heart ached too much right now. She needed time away to think.

Kagome sat in the windowsill in her dorm room. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, and her forehead was pressed against the cool pane of glass. Her brown eyes focused on nil in the world beyond, not even the changing hues of the setting sun. Her stomach rolled at her shuddering breath; tears cascaded down her smooth, pale cheeks. She was in agony without him, and yet, it was for the best.

She let a sigh that quickly turned into another shudder when her diaphragm convulsed. The sound masked the click of the door knob, but not the rustling of keys or the louder smack as the room door closed. "Kags?" Sango questioned. The keys dropped upon a desk. Worried, Sango placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Kagsy, you okay?"

Kagome rotated away from the window. She didn't bother to hide the hurt on her face, or pretend her heartache was a trivial matter. "No," she gasped out through the tears. She threw her arms around Sango and melted into her best friend's embrace.

"Kagome, what's wrong?" Sango demanded; her fear was obvious. She encircled the younger woman in her arms and held on for dear life. Through all the recent fights, not one of them changed the fact that Kagome Higurashi was still her closest and dearest friend. The dancer was her sister in every way but blood.

"Everything," Kagome whispered from where her head was buried in Sango's shoulder. She let the salty storm subside before she pulled away to look the older woman in the eyes. She didn't want to tell her, but at the same time, she needed to. Even if her friend told her 'I told you so' a thousand times, Kagome needed her ear. "I'm such a fool."

Sango brushed Kagome's hair out of her face. Her head tilted to the side; her face held nothing but compassion. "Why's that, Kagsy?"

Kagome remained silent for a few minutes before launching into everything that had happened lately. They hadn't spoken much since their last fight over Yash, and the dancer, in truth, had been avoiding Sango because she knew that she did not approve of her choices. But that disapproval mattered little right now. Kagome confessed where she had been; what she had been doing; losing her scholarship; more or less being kicked out of school at the end of the semester because of it; the possibility of the workshop; how Yash was helping her; how she thought she was in love with him; and finally what had happened the night before.

Like any good friend, Sango listened in silence, not daring to interrupt until Kagome had vented all of her pent up frustrations and the tears slowed to nothing. "I wish you had told me all of this sooner," Sango said, a bit hurt that Kagome hadn't trusted her.

The dancer shrugged. "I know you don't approve of him, but he — he means a great deal to me, Sango." Her voice choked. "And now I don't know what to do."

"If it were me, I'd tell him to go rot somewhere," Sango countered curtly. Although a sweetheart, the judo fighter had a quiet, deadly temper, which was only visible when she'd growl in annoyance. Miroku usually got the brunt of that quiet rage.

"That's the thing though, Sango. I'm so confused. I — I care about him. I want to be in his life. I want to keep rehearsing at the studio. It just — hurts." That was the brunt of it.

Sango sighed, drawing Kagome into yet another hug. Her hand drew circles on the distraught woman's back. "I cannot make this decision for you, Kagsy. You're going to have to decide whether having him as a friend is worth it, even if you want more. If he is emotionally unavailable, that's all it will ever amount to. I don't think you should torment yourself."

Kagome drew away. "I need him, Sango," she confessed with conviction. "I don't know how or why, but I know I need him, and I think he needs me."

As much as she didn't like the response, it wasn't the fighter's choice. "Then, you don't need me to tell you what to do. I think you've already decided to stand by your _friend_."

The dancer nodded in affirmation. "I know I have." She swallowed hard. "But I think I could use some time away to decide for sure." Not being with him ate at every fiber of her being; it screamed about how wrong her life would be without Yash Narita in it, but she always believed that to love was to let go. If she were truly meant to be by his side, nothing — not even him — could keep her at bay. Only time would tell.

———


	13. Of Curses and Kisses

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Thirteen: Of Curses and Kisses**

It had been a week — well five days — but a week in workday standards, and that was much longer than Yash had anticipated not seeing Kagome. Not once had she called her cell phone; not once had she come by the club; and not once had she even shown up at the studio to rehearse. After three days, his patience had crumpled into sheer annoyance and on day four, he had called the number listed as 'home' on her contact list.

The bouncer had expected to get her dorm room, but apparently 'home' was the Sunset Shrine. After a rather strange conversation with the boy who answered the phone — centering on the teenager giving him the third-degree for calling his sister — it was obvious her family knew nothing about the recent events in Kagome's life. Not that he faulted her for it. After all, he hadn't exactly called his old man or chatted up his older brother in the last year and half. Souta seemed pleasant, although talkative, until he practically rioted when Inuyasha mentioned why he couldn't call Kagome's cell — he had it. It would be awhile before he phoned 'home' again. Getting interrogated about his relationship with the boy's big sister wasn't exactly Yash's idea of a good time. Still, he liked the kid.

The conversation with Souta was relatively normal when compared to what had really raised his hackles past annoyance and straight into fury: The pink flip phone wouldn't stop ringing. Every ten minutes it vibrated against his leg, sending him jumping. At first, he had thought perhaps Souta had talked to Kagome, and she was finally calling him as promised. Eagerly, he answered the number he didn't recognize, only then to curse at the caller and hang up. The first phone call he assumed was a crank. After all, why would Kagome have placed a personal ad looking for a man to 'save her life'? However, after twenty-four hours of non-stop ringing, he hated each and every one of the callers and wasn't too pleased with the dancer either.

The phone went off again, sending him vaulting off Bankotsu's couch. He pulled the phone from hell out of his pocket and flipped it open. "What do you want?" he barked. The language of his greeting, however, included an article and expletive inserted between 'what' and 'do.' The caller immediately hung up.

In a roar of frustration, he drew his arm back to dispose of the phone against the nearest wall. His arm arched to release the object, but the cell phone disappeared from his hand. Inuyasha dropped the appendage and spun around. His golden eyes narrowed upon Bankotsu.

The club owner stood behind the couch, dressed in his usual finery. The dark, pin-stripped suit stood in stark contrast to the neon colored cell he tossed in the air in much the same way one would toss a baseball. "Not your phone to break," he reminded, and then shook his head in dismay. He handed Inuyasha the object in his other hand: A rather full glass of whiskey. "Jak thought you could use that, seeing as how you've been biting people's heads off tonight."

"Who asked you?" Inuyasha barked incredulously. He took the glass and pulled a quick drink off it before he flopped back onto the sofa. His muttered expletives continued in various forms, phrases and styles, until all that was left escaping his mouth were guttural sounds that couldn't even be described as language. Yash could make even a seasoned sailor blush when his temperament was foul.

Bankotsu shook his head. As unstable as Inuyasha was acting, he decided to sit in his leather chair instead of beside his friend. His polished shoes kicked up to rest upon the wooden desktop. "No one, as usual," the man countered. He leaned back in the chair, relaxing, and drummed his fingers together. He had long gotten past Yash's biting personality, but the latest string of tantrums was like watching a two-year-old. "But I've had just about enough of your attitude." Bank usually kept his composure no matter how annoyed he got. He had to, considering his flamboyant brother and vulgar friend.

"Well I'm not the one …" Yash shouted. He really had no reason to yell. Kagome warned him she was busy, had things to do and wouldn't see him for a few days. What stung the most for the emotionally turbulent bouncer was that he was certain she was angry with him, and thus avoiding him. And now, with her cell phone buzzing like the hottest dateline in town, he couldn't help the jealousy peaking into blinding ire.

"Shut up, Yash," Bankotsu ordered. His shoes smacked against the floor as they came off the desk. "I really don't want to hear it anymore." He shook his head and went back to the invoices he had received from the suppliers. Bills had to be paid, work had to be done, and yet the one person not working for a while, Bankotsu couldn't get rid of. "Why are you even here?" He glanced up from his stack of paperwork.

"Where else would I be?" Yash asked in the most incredulous and juvenile tone he could muster. He would have wrapped his arms across his chest in a pout if he hadn't been holding the glass of whiskey.

"That's rhetorical, right?" Bank countered absently. He smirked. Inuyasha was predictable. Like every mortal-bound creature, he relied on routine and patterns to take him through his everyday life. It used to be training, school, his family, more training and studying, to the point that neither Bank nor Jak would see or hear from him for weeks. But after Kikyo died, his friend created a new routine as a way of shutting out the heartache poisoning his soul. He and Jak had watched their friend withering into a stubborn jackass with as much endearment as a buzzing fly. That wasn't to say that he was much better before, but at least there was a shred of happiness to his countenance.

"Tell me, Yash," Bankotsu continued after several minutes of silence — at least on his part. "Why do you care if Kagome is around or whether she might be seeing someone else or why her phone keeps ringing or that she hasn't called or … ?"

The series of pointed questions ignited Inuyasha's curses once more. "Shut it, Bank. I don't care." The bouncer tossed back the entire tumbler of whiskey and then slammed the glass down hard on the end table. He kicked his legs up onto the couch, stretching out on the sofa. His arms crossed over his chest, finally posing his body to mirror the emotional turmoil within. Problem was — he did care about her, a lot.

"Bull shit," the owner retorted in an almost singsong voice. He chuckled over the reaction it elicited.

Inuyasha wasn't the only frustrating being amongst the regulars and employees at _Seven_. Bankotsu could be equally exasperating at times, but mostly he frustrated Yash because the club owner had a knack of calling him on his contradictions of reality. "You're an asshole."

The sentiment hung in the air without a retort from the businessman. The silence that fell between would have been companionable if Yash hadn't felt like he had been trapped on an emotional rollercoaster for the past twenty-four hours. There were times he sat at the top of the world, completely optimistic about his friendship with Kagome (as much as that was possible for him, anyway); while at other times, he plummet into self-loathing and hatred, wishing he'd never met the annoying woman. It was at the midpoints between these highs and lows that moments of clarity had found him, and he realized how much she really meant to him. "Bank," he started, this time in a congenial tone.

"Yes?" The businessman didn't bother to look up from his paperwork.

"Did I do something to Kagome?" He still couldn't get the last conversation out of his mind. She refused to look at him or even tell him what was bothering her. She had lied; he had deduced that much in her absence as he overanalyzed every moment they had previously shared.

Silence fell again; the echo in the room rang so loud that it drove a person to shout just to shatter the quiet. Yash usually preferred silence, but not when he was being ignored. He sat back up on the couch. He winced at the pain in his side; the wound was no longer fresh but far from healed. "I did, didn't I?"

Nothing.

"Bank!" Inuyasha shouted, forcing the man to look up from his work. "She was mad the morning after the fight — the last time I saw her — but wouldn't tell me why. Did I do something?"

Bankotsu rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Yash?" he retorted with a question of his own. "It's not like your Mr. Stable on a good day, combine that with Vicodin and Jak seems normal by comparison."

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes. Bankotsu had a way of answering his questions without really answering them. Hidden within his glossy speech was the point that the club owner knew what drove off Kagome. Yash continued to fish. "You know what I did?"

Bankotsu didn't even twitch. "You want to know, go find Kagome and talk to her."

That heightened Yash's interest even more. He rose from his seat and meandered through the room until he was right in front of the desk. He fidgeted for a few moments, before his patience wore thin. Bankotsu could ignore a fly buzzing around his head, not once flinching, if he set his mind to it. Yash leaned down, placing both hands on his desktop. "I'm asking _you_, Bank …"

"Damn it, Yash," the other man swore. He hadn't lost his patience, but he was certainly annoyed. "I don't want to get into the middle of it. Besides, you'll just get mad at me." True statement considering Yash had a habit of 'shooting' the messenger.

"Bank …" the bouncer growled. His amber-gold eyes held the man as if he were trying to read the answer off of Bankotsu's face. "Please." The rarity of his use of the word denoted how important the answer was to Yash.

Bankotsu rolled his eyes. With a sigh, he leaned back into his chair. He held the gaze of the persistent pest. "If I tell you, you better not yell," he returned evenly.

"I'm not going to yell," he sought to persuade, but Inuyasha always raised his voice when he was angry.

Reluctantly and against his better judgment, Bankotsu answered the question the bouncer had dogged him with. "You kissed her."

Inuyasha's back stiffened and he stood upright. "I did what?" His brow furrowed in confusion. When had he done that? "I don't remember …" His stomached flipped at the prospect of kissing Kagome. He had thought about, but ultimately held back because he was unsure of his feelings for her. The last person he had kissed had been Kikyo, and in truth — not that he'd share this with even Bank — she was his first everything. She had never complained about his kisses. His eyes narrowed even more. "I didn't realize I was such a bad kisser," he stated sardonically.

Bankotsu arched a single brow. "I could get Jak if you want a second opinion …" He didn't bother to stifle his laughter.

The bouncer scoffed. "Feh, that's not funny." He ran a hand through his messy, unbound hair. He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, agitated. Something didn't make sense. "Why would Kagome be mad that I kissed her?"

The question silenced his friend's laughter. His expression grew somber. "I don't think it was the kiss, Yash."

Inuyasha rolled his eyes; his short fuse was reaching its end. "Then what was it?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Bankotsu's next words came even and slow, drawn out as if each syllable would prepare his friend for what had sparked Kagome's flight. "You — called — her — _Kikyo_." He counted the seconds until Yash ripped into him.

Slightly shocked, he bristled at the mention of _her_ name. The young man sucked in a breath and held it. "I did what?" he said softly, lost in disbelief while at the same time trying to suppress his emotions. He shuffled his feet, almost knocking over the end table, as he headed for the couch. He sat down, but missed the cushions and nearly landed on the floor before he caught himself. He refused to believe he called her Kikyo. She wasn't Kikyo, not in the slightest. They looked the same; it's why he had first noticed her, but Kagome was fire and passion. Kikyo, although loving, had had a reserved personality that some believed cold. He had loved her; he loved her still, but Kagome made him want to escape his half-life and live again. His head fell into his hands. "I'm such an idiot," he whispered.

"I've been telling you that for years," Bank interjected. He joined his friend on the sofa. He leaned back into the cushions and crossed one leg over the other. His arm draped over the back of the seating. "She'll be back though, man. You'll see."

Yash lifted his head and peered at Bank over his shoulder. "You sound so sure of that." Right now, the bouncer would question the color of the clear blue sky he had seen a thousand times. He felt like he was walking across a rickety bridge and one false move would send him to his doom. He didn't want gloom and doom with Kagome. He had only known her a short time, and already he wanted sunlight and roses. He wanted a life again, if only so he could walk openly in the sunlight, holding her hand. _'Damn it all.'_ He was in love.

"Trust me, Yash," he stated simply. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Before Inuyasha could respond, the cell phone rattled loudly against Bankotsu's desktop. He grumbled, knowing full well that the person on the line was competition for Kagome's affections. The thought of her with anyone else sickened him with jealousy, but even recognizing the emotion didn't mean that Yash had any inkling as to his course of action. What he did know: He refused to lose her as well.

———


	14. Free the Soul

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Fourteen: Free the Soul, Ease the Mind, Find a Place to Unwind**

Long after the doors to Hachioji Studio had closed, a single light burned in the back room. The rich tenor of a male voice cried throughout the studio in the verses of the melancholic ballad blaring over the private sound system. In the center of the room, Kagome danced in dramatic, yet breathtaking movements. She felt the pulse of sound and let it flood her soul. It carried her throughout the mirrored room as if floating upon a cloud. She couldn't even remember her steps, only how she felt as she released the anguish from her soul.

Yash Narita had entered her life, floating in and saving her from a drunken predator. She saw life's cruelty reflected back in his mesmerizing eyes, as if he understood what it was like to lose a vital piece of the human spirit. They had only known each other for weeks — a month tops — and yet, she couldn't imagine a time that he had not helped fill the blackened void withering the edges of her soul. The past week, being without him, Kagome couldn't find breath; she couldn't find a speck of joy in her existence. That was until she thought of him.

Quick, fast and completely unexpected, the dancer had fallen in love with a man she barely knew, but who always seemed willing to stand by her, to protect her and to give her hope. Not even her closest friends knew how to aid her in putting the puzzle of her life back together. Yash had known exactly what she needed. In his presence, she was an open book, and he had unwittingly read her pages. Just the thought of him made her feel the way she did now as she danced, completely free and unhindered by life's frustrations.

Kagome spent her week in contemplation, mulling over these feelings that he evoked within her. Sango and Miroku had also been wonderful with their advice on the matter. If she cared about Yash, then accepting his friendship was better than just walking away. She considered it, but ultimately could not follow through. So today, after a week of missed rehearsals, she returned to Hachioji Studio.

The dancer finalized her routine for the audition so that she would have a month to perfect it. Kaede had even worked with her for part of the afternoon, giving her pointers and helping the young woman conquer her frustrations. Before Kagome realized it, the daylight had faded to shadow, Kaede had left her to dance and now the ballerina found solace in the escape of her body through music.

Beads of sweat dotted her brow, adding a shimmer to her creamy skin beneath the halogen studio lights. Her eye lids closed over her chocolate orbs, assisting in closing off her mind to all but sound. The loose fabric of her black dance skirt fanned out to expose the full length of her muscular, yet lean legs, as she spun. As the music climaxed, her rotations increased in speed, until finally the singer's voice reached the peak of his emotional release. She stepped out and on to point. Her arms drew in to her chest and then rose effortlessly above her head. The tempo of her steps slowed as the music began to wind down. On the last notes, she dropped to her knees and bowed her body toward the mirrors. It was there she relaxed while her breath evened and her awareness of the outer world returned.

"That was beautiful."

A smile crested her lips. Still panting lightly, she sat up. Her weight still rested on her heels, and her hands rested on her knees. "Hi," she said, a little surprised, but still happy to see Inuyasha. She missed him, even if he had hurt her feelings. "What are you doing here?"

Inuyasha pushed away from the wall, which support his weight. He crammed his hands into his jean's pockets and came closer to the lanky dancer. He shrugged, as if his presence was no big deal. "Kaede called the club; said you might need a ride home later; and for me to make sure the studio was locked up."

Kagome rolled her weight to the left, sitting on the side of her hip. She stepped her right leg forward, planted her foot and then rose to her full height. She smoothed her dance dress. "Why would you need to lock up?" Her forehead knitted in confusion. "What time is it anyway?"

The bouncer chuckled. "It's after midnight, Kagome. Kaede didn't want to interrupt you even though the studio was closing."

"Midnight!" Her brown eyes widened. She had done a lot of work today, but surely she hadn't spent her entire day dancing. "I guess I lost track of time." She laughed quietly and then pulled out the pins holding her hair in a bun. The dark locks tumbled past her shoulders into a curly mess. She ran her hand through the load, loosening the ebony strands.

Inuyasha shifted nervously, and then closed the remainder of the distance between them. He bit his lip, letting his teeth drag across the flesh slowly before releasing it. "Well, seeing as how you probably haven't eaten … Keh, do you want to grab something to eat before I take you back to the university?"

Sensing his slight discomfort, Kagome's uneasiness returned. The memory of that kiss still haunted her and all those overwhelming emotions flooded her mind. Her stomach somersaulted. "Yash, perhaps you should just take me home. I'm disgusting from having been working all day. I need a bath. It is late …" The excuses flowed, but were hardly sweet like honey. They were bitter sounding, even to her.

"Would you be quiet?" he interjected, silencing her protests. Yash reached for her hand and pulled her to him. His rough fingers stroked the flawlessly smooth surface of her skin. He smirked in his arrogant fashion, but his celestial eyes begged for her trust. "You can shower at my place, and then I know this all-night restaurant not far from here. They have the best burgers and fries in Tokyo — if you like American food."

Kagome's head tilted to the side as she tried to read him. The smile, the eyes, the very cockiness of his demeanor had her curious. Something swirled behind those handsome gems, and her curiosity was winning. She narrowed her eyes. "You really want to have dinner with me — not just ramen on the roof?"

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Feh. I asked didn't I?"

"And why would you want to do that?" she challenged. She knew what her final answer would be, but it didn't mean she'd cave without a fight.

The bouncer dropped her hand. He shrugged. "Maybe I missed you," he said dismissively. "And maybe I wanted to talk to you." A tinge of scarlet stained the peaks of his cheeks.

His words surprised her. She sucked in a breath and with it came a ray of hope that maybe she had overreacted. "Maybe I missed you, too." A smile brightened her face. "Let me just grab my things," she added. Carefree and completely elated, she sashayed over to grab her bag off the sofa in the corner. The little girl in her wanted to squeal, but the realist in her caused her to mentally pause. _'What could he possibly have to say?'_ She wondered if he remembered; the prospect set her cheeks aflame.

———

An hour later, Kagome and Inuyasha slid across red, cushy bench seats in the American-style diner. The place was far from classy, mirrored after the mom and pop dives she remembered from her trips to the States when she was a child. The floor tile was black and white, and the glossy-top tables were white with scratches in the veneer. The waitress roller skated around the dining room in a pink poodle skirt and bobby socks. Kagome had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from snickering. It was like being in a bad time warp, complete with a horrid selection of American music from the 1950s.

"Wow," she said under breath, still taking in the seemingly misplaced establishment. "I feel like I'm back in New York." She leaned over the table, still keeping her voice low. "How did you find this place?"

Inuyasha leaned it, putting his face in hers. He couldn't help but smile over the look of sheer amusement on Kagome's face. The restaurant was cheesy, yet fun. A person couldn't help but love it. "My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid. She said that there was more to life than ramen, and that I should try something 'far reaching.' This place is definitely out there." His laughter carried throughout the restaurant as he got comfortable on his side of the table. "The foods good — even if it isn't ramen."

"I'll have to trust you on that," Kagome said lightly. "I actually didn't realize I was starving until we got here." She grabbed one of the menus crammed at the end of the table behind the old-style napkin holder. "What's good …" she remarked, flipping it open.

Yash grabbed the second menu and thumbed through the four-page laminated fold. "Keh. Any of the burgers, the fries, the milkshakes — perfect — salads aren't bad, but definitely not my first choice …" His words absently trailed off as he perused the list of burgers — everything from mushroom and jalapeño burgers to plain cheese and barbecue. He usually ordered the cheeseburger or the bacon burger. The first and only time he tried the jalapeño burger, he discovered his dislike for anything excessively spicy. His tongue and throat had burned for days.

"Good morning," the waitress said sweetly. She set two glasses of water in front of the couple, and then pulled out a small notepad. "So, can I get you anything to start?"

Kagome chewed her lip and furrowed her brow. She still hadn't decided, although the cheeseburger, fries and the chocolate Oreo milkshake had set her mouth salivating. It had been quite some time since she had a burger. Usually, she kept strictly to her diet to manage her weight. She looked to Inuyasha, almost asking permission to order. He gave her a reassuring smile. Guiltily, she placed her order for the items she craved.

Her companion smiled broadly. He refolded his menu and shoved it back behind the napkin dispenser. "I'll have the same," he said without hesitation.

"Sure thing," the woman chirped airily and then skated off.

Kagome began to giggle again. "I'm going to say it again, Yash. Wow. I feel like I'm in a time warp that dumped me across the Pacific."

The bouncer shrugged. "I'm glad you like it."

Kagome picked up the fork off the table and twirled it in her fingers and let it travel from finger to finger and then back again. Her father had showed her the trick in a diner similar to this one on their last trip to New York; it had to have been ten years ago now, because shortly thereafter he had died in plane crash. It, too, had changed her world, but she had eventually learned to adapt to her new life. "So, you said you wanted to talk to me?" she finally piped up.

The smile lessoned on Yash's face. He had a lot to say to her, but also didn't want to broach the topic of Kikyo and what Bank had told him. Mostly, he just wanted to know that they were all right, despite his idiocy. "Was just curious how your week was. You didn't call like you said you would …" The words held no accusation, only questions.

The dancer set the fork down. Her sunshine personality slipped behind a guilty façade "Oh, sorry, I got busy with school and the rehearsing …" She averted her eyes.

"You weren't at the studio," he interrupted her lie before it could fully be realized.

Kagome sighed. Sango had recommended honesty as the best policy, but how could she be honest when Bank had specifically warned her against addressing the topic most on her mind. "I'm sorry, Yash. Life just carries you away sometimes." It was more of a justification than an excuse, but she desperately wanted to keep him in her life. She sighed.

"I know about being carried away," he told her solemnly. He wanted to apologize for the kiss, for calling her Kikyo, but also didn't dare. He too just wanted them to be okay. "And I also know you were mad at me the last time I saw you." He tilted his head to the side, letting his black hair fall over his shoulder. "I just really wanted to say that if I did something, I hope you'd tell me."

The young woman looked up from the speck on the veneer she had been staring at to find his beautiful eyes. They begged, pleaded for confirmation that she, they were fine. What could she say? — Nothing without raising his hackles. Kagome refused to force the issue with him. She loved him enough to keep him as a friend and not let the past interfere with the now. The present was the key to her happiness; dwelling on the past, the accident had only added to her frustrations. He was her relief, her salvation in an emotional storm. "I promise," she returned sincerely. It was time to let go of all that ailed her.

Inuyasha pondered her words for a moment, before giving her a toothy grin. His incisors pressed against his lower lip in almost animalistic expression that Kagome found absolutely adorable. "Keh." His voice was once more cheerful. "Now that that is settled, how'd rehearsal go today? Is your ankle still giving you trouble?"

Kagome groaned and rolled her eyes. "Oi, rehearsals," she said. Trying to let go didn't mean she had one hundred percent been able to shed those negative sentiments. "Well, Kaede helped me finish the choreography for my audition. The music that I was dancing to when you came in, I think I'm going to use it for my piece. It's not classical, but —" She shrugged. "— Hanging out at _Seven_ has expanded my musical taste." She finally smiled again. "I'm still having problems with my ankle though. It doesn't hold my weight for very long and I cannot expect a position if I cannot keep up with my peers."

The bouncer chewed the inside of his lip, contemplating the problem. "Kagome, can I ask you about your accident? Specifically the physical therapy?" She nodded in affirmation. "What exactly did your therapist do?"

The young woman picked up the fork and twirled it again. "Well, after my surgeries and the bones healed, they mostly just worked with me until I could walk again."

Yash's brows shot up. "Did they know you are an athlete?"

"Yes." For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what he was driving at.

"And they didn't do any additional therapy to help retrain and strengthen your ankle?" The question sounded almost indignant.

"No." Her lips pursed into a frown. "Yash, I don't really understand where you are going with this …"

Lost in his thoughts, he chewed on his fingernails for a moment. His hand dropped from his mouth, and waved as if it to dismiss his odd interrogation. "Sorry, Kagome. I was just thinking." He paused, chewing his lip. "It's just that for an athlete, when you sustain an injury like the one to your leg, they do different types of therapy to retrain your body. I'm just trying to figure out why they would only give you retraining to walk but not anything else."

His comments hung between them when the waitress interrupted their conversation. She set the plates down in front of them, along with a bottle of ketchup and dish of mayo. "Enjoy," she said cheerfully, and then skated off.

Kagome inhaled the scent of greasy food, specifically the wafting aroma of the French fries. She was in heaven. "Do you know how long it has been since I've had fries?" she asked. Silently, she reminisced on all the smiles and good times with her father.

"Too long, I'd say." Yash laughed at her and then snagged one of her fries off her plate. He popped it into his mouth without a moment's hesitation.

"Hey!" Kagome feigned shock. "Eat your own!" She picked up a fry and tossed it at him. Like the devil he was, he managed to bite the flying piece of food right out of the air just to spite her attempt at a food fight. "Well isn't that cute," she added sardonically.

Yash waggled his eyebrows. "I'm not all bark, Kagome." It was true. He could have fun when he'd let himself. It had been so long, though, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be completely relaxed with someone.

"I often wonder," she shot back. Kagome teased because, for once, she knew she could get away with it without him grumbling or calling her 'wench.' The dancer really had the desire to slap him upside the head at times, but tonight, she wouldn't dream of it. There was something different about him, as if the week apart had changed him.

"Feh, whatever." But the words had lost their usual edge. He picked up his burger and began to eat the medium-cooked stack.

A companionable silence fell between dancer and bouncer while they ate, until one would crack a joke and the other would respond with an almost snorting laugh. Kagome mimicked the music to the best of her vocal ability, making her friend cringe and beg for silence because of the choice of song. They had briefly touched the topic of her surgeries and therapy again. He had also returned her phone with orders never to leave it in his possession in their lifetime, and then told her all about his conversation with Souta and the freaks looking for a date. Her face glowed a brilliant shade of scarlet, and then she laughed despite herself and never fully explained the reasoning behind the calls. She'd have to phone the paper in the morning.

For an hour, they teased, chortled and carried on in an intimate fashion, enjoying the simple moments of two friends obviously in love but unaware of the other's feelings. Kagome's mood lightened and all her troubles disappeared in the space of time — at least for the night. She could get use to living in the moment, forgetting the past. But while she dwelt in the present, Inuyasha looked to the future, planning yet another surprise for the beauty that had been on his mind.

———


	15. Ride It Out

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Fifteen: Ride It Out**

It felt like the hundredth time Kagome had been placed on hold in the space of an hour. Counting to ten didn't seem to help her patience, although she tried to remain pleasant with the classified advertising representative she was currently speaking with. Her quest to resolve a simple matter had turned into a painstaking and tedious endeavor, leaving her trapped and bounced around the paper's phone system, until someone decided to grace her by answering the phone. She was on number five and nearing her wit's end.

_"I'm sorry, dear. I don't see any record of your ad."_ The tick-tick-tick of a keyboard echoed behind the cheery apology.

_'Deep breaths; take deep, deep breaths,'_ the dancer reminded herself. After all, these people dealt with hundreds of ads per day. She didn't expect them to remember her advertisement specifically, but she didn't realize it would require drawing a map to the section, page, column and very inch the troubling script occupied.

She grabbed the newsprint, rustling the classified section as she searched. "I don't know how that could be when I'm staring at it: 'Seeking a man to save my life. Mid-twenties, black hair, gold eyes or someone who reminds me of _him_. Please call Kagome Higurashi at 03 3333 3035.' That was not the wording I gave when I placed it and it was put in the personals. I didn't place a personal ad."

_"If it is not your wording, then how do you know it's yours?"_ the woman countered.

The abominable tick-tick felt like sandpaper against Kagome's nerves. If the woman didn't stop typing, the student was going to lose it — go postal — as she once heard an American say. She clenched the copy of the paper in her fist, tearing the thin parchment under the strength of the grip. This was not the kind of customer service typical of her motherland. "Because I'm Kagome Higurashi!" she seethed through clenched teeth.

What made the entire situation worse was the fact that Yash had her phone for the first wave of would-be woman seekers hoping to 'save her life.' She was beginning to regret ever placing the stupid advertisement. He hadn't asked her about the deluge specifically, and Kagome had skirted around an explanation when he mentioned the phone calls. However, his curiosity was evident, and she had opted to ignore the subtle vibe emanating from his person during their dinner date.

_"Oh, well, the ad sounds like a personal, dear. And since it's under those listings, I'll have to transfer you to Endo-san. She handles 'Love Line.' Please hold."_

"I don't want to hold!" Kagome yelled when the ever-familiar elevator music picked up in her ear. She huffed, tossing the newsprint aside, and then drummed her fingers on her desktop. Her cheeks were already flaming the shade of one of Yash's bright red t-shirts. The hue deepened to crimson when Sango snickered behind her. She threw her best friend a death glare over her shoulder. "It's not funny."

"Yes it is." Sango didn't bother to look up from her magazine. She flipped a page and continued to half-heartedly read the article about the return of the Takahashi family to the fighting elite. "Besides, you should have listened to me and left it alone."

Kagome spun in her chair to face her best friend. Her cell phone remained pressed to her ear, but she dropped the mouthpiece to her throat as she retorted, "I just wanted to thank him, Sango. There is nothing wrong with attempting to show a little appreciation and gratitude!" She rotated back around, hoping the action would give the female fighter the clue to leave her alone about it.

Sango had read her the riot act when she found out about Kagome's search. Her best friend just wanted the dancer to move forward and forget about the entire affair. The fighter was a firm believer in moving forward — it was after all how Sango coped with the crappiness of her own life; she'd brush it off and move on. Some viewed her as hard and fierce. But Kagome knew that, on the inside, Sango was nothing but raw cookie dough — sweet, soft and gooey. The older woman would thus pretend to be mad about Kagome's actions, but in reality, deep inside, she thought there was something poetic and romantic about it.

Seconds turned to minutes and before Kagome realized it, a handful of minutes had passed in what felt like yet another hour of holding. "These people are idiots." She tossed her hand into the air. She was beyond flustered, and that was second only to the embarrassment she felt over Yash having her phone for the initial onslaught. Besides, how was she supposed to find the needle in the haystack when the key was placed in the wrong section of the classifieds? Was finding him really worth the hassle? The dancer had decided 'yes,' if only because of the strong feelings compelling her to meet the man face to face, eye to eye and discover what made him heroic when others failed to act.

"I could have told you that," Sango said imperturbably, as if she were wise and all-knowing. Kagome had to give her props in that regard. Her best friend could think on her feet, and she was always just a hair ahead of the game. Unfortunately, giving Sango an ego boost at the dancer's expense was not high on Kagome's to-do list. It was time to silence Sango on the current topic.

"That's not helpful," Kagome started coolly. "Besides, it's not like you've _ever_ made a mistake. I mean, come on, Sango, what about the time you and Miroku were caught ..." A mischievous glint floated in her chocolate orbs.

"Shut it, Kags," Sango barked, hotly. The fighter glared daggers at the younger woman in the face of her mortification. There were some things not even a best friend should bring up.

"Just making a point," Kagome countered in an innocent tone. Although her roommate loved Miroku, he also happened to be the source of some rather embarrassing moments for the fighter. Public displays of affection and outbursts were not exactly smiled upon in the reserved, private society of Japan, and the fighter and the lecher had been busted in a movie theater Sango's freshmen year of college for doing a lot more than simply kissing.

She turned her attention back to the chamber music spewing through her ear piece. Had she not been a classical dancer, the very tone would have made her nauseous or, at the very least, put her to sleep. She sighed. Unable to take the 'silence,' she resorted to pestering Sango more. "What are you reading anyway?"

The older woman continued to stare at the glossy pages of _Masters_. "Do you remember Doctor Takahashi?"

Kagome knitted her brow. "How could I forget him, Sang? He only did all of my surgeries after the accident." Her sarcastic tone couldn't have been missed by even the densest of people.

"I was just checking ..." she pointed out. "Anyway, he's also a fighter but took the last year or so off. The article I'm reading is talking about his return to competitive fighting. His father was a fighter twenty years ago — one of the best — and his younger brother wasn't bad either, although a bigger ass than your sexy surgeon."

Kagome rolled her eyes. "So I take it Doctor Takahashi's cold demeanor runs in the family?" She would always be grateful to the surgeon who helped piece her back together, but his bedside manner lacked any warmth of human spirit. He was all business, all the time, and although she had tried to ignore it, on countless occasions she had to bite her tongue to resist calling him on his perpetual arrogance during her post-op exams.

"No, I didn't say that," the female fighter stated. She rolled to her side and propped her head up on her hand. "I used to see the younger Takahashi at the tournaments; he was really good and not hard to spot, considering his platinum blond hair and funky eyes — he looks a lot like his older brother. However, you know how the doctor was always cold?" Kags nodded in verification. "Well, his younger brother was the most arrogant, juvenile man I have ever met. Perhaps that was why he and 'Roku were such good friends." The thought elicited a smile.

"So does this _younger_ have a name?" Kagome fished. Despite her annoyance with her master surgeon, the young woman had always thought he was one of the hottest men she had ever encountered, even at ten years her senior. If his brother looked anything like him ... he would be eye candy worthy of being posted on the 'wall of hot' in Sango's wardrobe with the rest of the 'celebrities.' Kagome had no doubt Sango was going to add the doctor's picture from this mag when she was through.

"Not that I remember, and this article doesn't mention him. Miroku always called him Takahashi, though. They were pre-med together, always competing. Takahashi took first in their class. He was absolutely brilliant and drop dead gorgeous like the doc. It's a shame about his personality."

"You're harsh, you know that?" Kagome half-teased. Sango, although absolutely sweet, also had a critical eye and quickly assessed any and all situations with keen intuitiveness. Sometimes, the dancer believed her best friend was overcritical, but in the end, Sango turned out right. It was hard not to respect her observations. "Maybe you just caught the guy on a bad day."

"I call them like I see them, Kagsy." Sango rolled on to her back and extended her arms up into the air, skimming the article in the rather awkward position. "Besides, everyday was a bad day by that logic."

An inkling brewed at the edges of Kagome's mind, curiosity mostly about the man her surgeon claimed as brother. It wasn't like she had never heard of the Takahashi family before her accident. They were one of the wealthiest family's in Japan with their hands in everything. Plus, thinking about it, she remembered Miroku mentioning his friend a time or two during her freshmen year, his senior year at TU. Her dorm hall was also named after the affluent family who had donated enough to build the structure and several other new buildings on campus. "So, have you seen him lately? Does _the younger_ still compete?"

The female fighter dropped the magazine, closing it as she set it aside. "No. I don't remember off the top of my head what happened — I'll have to dig back through the back issues of my mags — but I think his wife died or something. And he tried to kill himself. The boy went off the deep end and never resurfaced." Sango shook her head. "Pity. He had a lot of potential. I remember watching him fight during the Kyoto Tournament two years ago — absolutely amazing. You couldn't take your eyes off him, such ferocity in his attacks, yet at the same time he held his ground with the same stubborn arrogance and determination you'd expect from the son of Inutaisho Takahashi — To have seen the elder fight in his heyday … Now that was a golden age in competitive fighting."

"Bummer," Kagome said absently, filing away the story, but not really connecting with it. Her best friend could have told you the name of every fighter for the past twenty years — if not longer — along with their entire biographies and family history. It was a creepy obsession to the dancer, but 'the way things were' to a fighter like Sango. She had been around the sport so long, the knowledge came through osmosis. "When you're done, can I read the article on Doctor Taka …" The music silenced and a chipper voice replaced it, forcing her Kagome to cut her dialogue short. "Oh, hello, yes I'm here."

"_Sorry about the wait, Higurashi-san. I was finding that ad for you. I do apologize. I was the one who helped you place it originally. The classified was coded wrong and for some reason edited profusely from your original submission. I've found the original submission, recoded it for the general class section, and it'll be put in the proper section this time _—_ free of charge for a week."_

'_Finally!' _"Oh, thank you, so much. I don't think you understand what a headache this has been." Hopefully this correction would put an end to the incessant blaring of her ringtone. She actually missed the days when only Sango, her mom or Souta would call. Silence was golden, and appreciated more once lost.

"_If you need anything else, please call the paper and ask for me, Higurashi-san. My name is Makiko Endo. I'm sorry about the inconvenience."_

"Just happy it's fixed. Thank you. Good-bye." Kagome's hand fell away from her ear. She pushed the red button, ending the call and then dropped her arm as if it had been suspended against her will for hours on end. "That was so ridiculous."

"So what's the verdict?" Sango quizzed. Her feet twitched back and forth to a rhythm only she could hear.

"They're going to correct it and rerun it free of charge." She stood up from her desk and grabbed her dance bag off the bed, hefting the over-burdened duffle onto her shoulder. "But it doesn't change the fact that every weirdo looking for a quick date has my phone number now. The stupid thing won't stop ringing."

"I know. I live with you —" The fighter reminded. She rolled her head to look at her friend. "Are you leaving?"

Kagome nodded. "Yes, I'm meeting Yash at the club. I probably won't be home tonight."

Sango raised a brown brow. "You sure are out all night a lot. Staying at Yash's …" Her insinuation was evident.

The dancer pursed her lips in annoyance. "You're right, but unlike Miroku, Yash is a gentleman. I have no doubt that my visits with him are PG compared to your R with 'Roku." The fighter turned a ghastly shade of red over the comment. "Besides, Yash and I haven't even _officially_ kissed yet. I really don't count a medicated moment as meaningful, anyway."

Recovering slightly, the fighter sat upright on the bed. She smiled ruefully. "If you really want him to kiss you, you know what to do …"

"I've thought about it, Sang — just up and kissing him and telling him how much I care about him." Kagome shifted her weight in an uneasy shuffle. "But after the _first_ kiss, I think I'd rather not risk it." She tilted her head toward her shoulder, considering her friend. "Anyway, I thought you didn't like Yash … that I could do better."

"Honey, you can do better," the fighter said pointedly. "But since you've stopped listening to me, I've decided to at least encourage you to be happy." One would think that ignoring her advice was a travesty the way she countered her best friend.

"Well thank you," Kagome said sarcastically. "I'll see you tomorrow night sometime." She readjusted her bag and then headed for the door. Wickedly, she grinned, throwing Sango a look over her shoulder. "If you're not busy at 'Roku's …" She quickly slipped through the door, narrowly escaping the pillow her roommate turned into a projectile.

———

Their sparring always began the same way. Inuyasha would grump; Bankotsu would counter; and absent bickering would turn into a full-blown argument, leaving both in need of 'working out their aggressions' with fists and feet. Such displays were not uncommon before the doors of _Seven_ opened, but had become increasingly rare since Kagome had entered Inuyasha's life.

Clad only jeans, the shirtless, bare-foot warriors circled each other in a predatory fashion reminiscent of the day they had met as youths. In those days, they had both donned appropriate gis and the regulation pads for their hands and feet and their head gear. Bankotsu was twelve, Inuyasha was eleven, and the latter had nearly lost to the aggressive yet cool black-haired youth. Despite the win, Yash's father had diminished all joy over the match when he criticized him for letting the older boy score at all. The retired fighter would accept nothing less than perfection from his sons.

Now when they took to the dance floor on the club's main level, neither one stayed with tradition. Bankotsu had given up competitive fighting after high school but he still loved going a few rounds with his favorite childhood opponent. Yash only engaged because fighting had a way of soothing his temperament. So, what started out as a heated argument in the office over why Yash hadn't put the moves on Kagome yet was quickly cooled to banter and fun — at least after the first few blows when they were both trying to calm down.

Bankotsu advanced. He let off a series of low kicks aimed at Yash's legs. His opponent twisted his leg, blocking with his foot each of the attempts at a strike with deft speed. He slammed down, taking his boss' leg down with it, and pinning the businessman's foot to the dance floor. Bank pulled hard and retreated a few steps. "Is that really all you have, Yash?" Bank challenged through heavy breaths. "I think you've lost your nerve for this sport." He laughed.

"Feh, whatever," Yash barked in annoyance. All three rounds Bank had been targeting his weak side. The stab wound had closed, but was far from completely healed. Cheap shots to his wounded lumbar area made it quite difficult to remain erect. Each blow caused his muscles to act on reflex, contracting and forcing Yash to double over. Now in round four, the bouncer was done with the older man's cheap tricks and tactics. It was time for a proper attack.

Inuyasha shifted his weight, bringing his left leg up into a high kick, aimed at the businessman's head. He kept attacking, forcing his boss to dodge the onslaught. The older man backpedaled, trying to get clear of the assault. It was hard to score a point off of Yash because of his superior speed and agility, leaving the businessman to wait out his opponent's aggressive offense.

After faking yet another kick to Bank's head, Inuyasha dropped his torso, bringing the attacking limb back to the ground. He shifted his weight on to that foot, leaped off and rotated his second leg. The sole of his foot nailed Bankotsu in the sternum, effectively knocking his opponent on his backside.

"Nice hit, Mutt," Bank complimented with a brazen edge. A cocky smile graced his lips. "But that will be your last."

"We'll see about that." There was no way Yash was going to lose again to his boss. The only reason the businessman had claimed wins their first three rounds was because of his cheap shots and blatant disregard for the rules of engagement. Unfortunately for the bouncer, his father had drilled them into his head with such frequency that they were hard to ignore, and even out from under his father's expectations of fighting, he felt guilty when he allowed Bank to coax an illegal strike out of him. It was entirely maddening, but at least years of drills meant he also knew how to fight. The bouncer didn't need cheap shots to take Bank's ego down a peg or two.

———

Kagome slipped in the back entrance of _Seven_ in the usual graceful manner. With strong legs from years of dancing, the girl was always light on her feet, but her happiness at being there sent her straight up to the clouds. A smile tickled the edges of her mouth; she quietly counted the seconds until she'd see Yash.

She shoved open the door that led from the off-limits area to the club floor and stopped in her tracks. Fiery shouts and taunts reverberated off the acoustically superior arches of the ceiling. Grunts and curses reached her ears; her cheeks flushed at the slur of derogatory remarks. She pushed past the small crowd and paused again. Her eyebrows raised in wonder. She had seen Yash fight, but never in an open match. His skill against Bankotsu amazed her, but the lustful female had long shifted her attentions to another attraction: Yash without a shirt, glistening with sweat and — _'Oh, he's handsome'_ — completely edible. She licked her lips and then bit the lower to keep in control.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Kags?" Jakotsu piped up from beside her. She hadn't even realized the bartender was standing nearby.

"Definitely," she whispered in a husky voice. The things Yash did to her … too bad he was too clueless. "What are they doing, anyway, Jak?" Kagome finally asked. The crowded started to disperse when they realized that Yash and Bank were done with the day's floor show. She walked with the bartender back to his domain.

"Oh, just working out some aggressions, Sugar." The flamboyant male waved his hand in the air as he spoke. "They do this when they've decided they can't stand each other."

Slightly worried, Kagome shifted her gaze between the fighters now resting in the middle of the room and then back to Jakotsu. "Nothing serious, I hope."

Jakotsu lifted up a low section of the countertop and let himself behind the bar. He grabbed several glasses and filled them with water from one of the many hoses 'tapped' at the bar. He set one in front of Kagome and then the other two off to her right for when the worn-out warriors wandered their way. He also grabbed two bar towels and tossed haphazardly next to the water glasses. "No. Yash is just stubborn and Bank likes to pick fights. Sometimes, it ends with them beating each other to a pulp." Jakotsu chuckled. "It's how they met after all."

"What do you mean?" Kagome fished as she sat on a barstool. She was always excited to learn more about her favorite bouncer.

"Yash use to fight regularly at tournaments; he has since he was a kid. Same with Bank and me." There was a sense of pride in his voice as he spoke.

The dancer giggled. Although never really one to question anyone's prowess for a sport, the vision of Jakotsu tournament fighting just didn't flow in her mind. "I'm sorry, Jak. I can't picture you as a fighter."

"Oh, don't even worry about it, Doll. I mostly only did it for the guys." He fanned himself with a hand. "Some yummy specimens on the fighting circuits, tight abs, tight gluts — a man could melt at the sight." Jak faked a swoon. He missed those days.

Kagome laughed even harder. "You are too much." Jakotsu was a secondary, but still important reason she loved coming to _Seven_. Talking to him was like talking to a girlfriend. He never failed to amuse her when Yash's nights got busy.

Her main reason for journeying to Hachioji City on a daily basis was now standing beside her in all his shirtless glory. Sweat beads rolled down the contours of his clavicle and across his rock hard pecks. The glistening salt water also dotted the peaks and valleys of his eight-pack stomach. He was a perfect, lithe male specimen, whose upper body was marred only by the healing stab wound in the lumbar region. His breaths came in short heaves as he dried the sweat from his face and neck. He tossed the cloth down and then grabbed his water. "How long have you been here?" he asked through slowly regulating gasps.

Kagome bit her lip as she smiled. The bouncer affected her in a way no other man could. She always felt slightly shy now in his presence. "Long enough to see you kick the stuffing out of Bank."

"Yes, but what you missed was me kicking Yash's backside all over the club during the first three rounds," Bankotsu interjected as he too joined them at the bar. "You haven't tossed me like that in a longtime, Yash. I really was beginning to think you'd lost your nerve."

"Keh, well your cheap shots almost landed you in the hospital, dumbass …," the bouncer grumbled, and then added something about losing his patience under his breath.

"How unsportsmanlike." Bank used the other towel to partly clean up before retrieving his shirt and shoes off a bar stool about half way done the length of the counter.

"Me?" Yash barked in surprised. "Look in the mirror, man." A low growl echoed along his vocal chords.

"I did. It says I need a shower." He flashed a smile that would have been dashing to a woman, but instead, it made Yash want to kill him for his arrogance. "I'll be back in a few hours, Jak." Bankotsu headed out the way Kagome had arrived.

"Well, I liked what I saw …," the dancer spoke absently as she watched Bankotsu retreat for a few seconds. Realizing what she just said and who she was looking at, her cheeks flushed red. The businessman, although nicely put together, was not the one she was thinking of when she let the comment slip. She cleared her throat when she turned back around to her two other companions. "Jak said you used to fight in tournaments?" she quickly changed the subject, even under the bouncer's slight glare.

The evil look cast at the bartender was as blatant as the sun's rise every morning. "Did he?" Yash said a bit coldly, effectively chasing off their other companion. He released yet another grumble as he returned his attention to the beautiful woman beside him. "I actually haven't done that in a long time."

"Why not?" Kagome quizzed. She tossed her blue silk scarf over her shoulder before leaning her weight against the counter.

"Because I didn't want to do it anymore …" — a practiced excuse on a subject he hated to discuss.

"You're a really good fighter, Yash." Kagome picked up her glass of water and took a sip. "And you looked like you were enjoying yourself with Bank."

Inuyasha huffed. He grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Strands of his long hair stood out on the top of his head. "I do enjoying fighting, Kagome. I just don't like tournaments and the expectations that come from the people who circuit fight." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, what would you know about fighting?"

Kagome righted herself on her stool. She crossed her arms across her chest. "Sango. She's on the women's judo team at TU. I've known her a long time and have seen my share of tournaments." Her lips pursed into a frown. "Anyway, I just thought since you obviously like fighting, it would give you the opportunity to do it a little more often than kicking Bank around or tossing out drunks." She took another drink of water. "And if someone like Takahashi-sama can return to fighting …"

"What did you say?" he cut her off. Yash's teeth clenched at the mention of the family name.

Taken back by the tone, Kagome could only blink like a deer in headlights at him for a moment before her thoughts cleared enough to respond. "Dr. Sesshomaru Takahashi," she said slowly. "Sango was telling me about an article on the doctor, his return to tournament fighting after taking time off."

Yash crossed his arms. "You say his name as if you know the bastard."

"I do know him," she countered just as curtly. "He was my surgeon. He did all three of my surgeries after my accident." She kicked her right leg out, reminding him of the injured limb. "By your reaction, I'd say you _also_ know him." She rotated on the stool, turning away from her friend. She hated when he was short with her.

Emotional reactions had the effect of backing someone into a corner, because it typically meant speaking before thinking. Yash now was forced to justify his rude response. "I do know him — from the tournaments," he lied. "People like him are why I stopped fighting."

"What's the matter, Yash, couldn't beat him?" The dancer remained facing forward. She let her harsh question sink in before looking over her shoulder at him. The look of hurt on his face sent a pang of guilt rushing through her. Quickly, she opened her mouth to apologize, but was silenced by his return.

"No, I couldn't." A ray of emotion laced the whispered admission — hurt, anger and sadness among them. "But that's not why I quit, Kagome." He climbed up on the seat beside her, keeping his body in position so that if she were any closer the dancer would be sitting between his legs. "Fighters like Takahashi, they only have one thing in mind — the win, perfection. Being around people like that made me forget why I loved fighting, and I will not become _that_ person again."

The dancer scooted closer, drawn in by his heart-felt declarations. "What kind of person is _that_, Yash?" The proximity sent her heart rate through the roof.

He leaned in, not realizing it. He brushed the strands of her dark hair behind her perfectly shaped ear. "The kind of person who is so focused on perfection that they forget the truly important things in life: Friends, family, the people they love."

Kagome leaned in closer as well. The warmth of her breath kissed the side of his cheek. "And you were that, Yash?" He nodded his head; his golden eyes never left her chocolate pools. "What happened to change you?"

"I lost everything that mattered," he confessed. Not even Jakotsu and Bankotsu knew his true feelings behind what happened, why guilt had nearly destroyed him.

The dancer licked her lips. "You still have friends though — people who care for you. Knowing what you do now — what you value — why would you think you would ever become that type of person again?"

He tilted his head, bringing his lips a fraction closer to hers. "Would you think less of me if I told you I was afraid of the person I used to be?"

She shook her head no, and then held her breath for a moment to gain some resemblance of control. "I know first hand, however, that you cannot give up on what you love simply because it hurts or you're afraid." She shrugged half-heartedly. "You have to live life, through the good and the bad."

Kagome's heart skipped as Yash moved at the close of her words. Her eyes drifted shut and anticipation filled her at the thought that he just might kiss her. To her dismay, his lips pressed firm against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of his golden eyes out of the corners of her own.

"Sometimes I think you're Kami sent, Kagome," he whispered with his face still close to her cheek.

The dancer jerked back, processing his words. A chill tickled down her spine and out to the very tips of her limbs. Struck by a sense of déjà vu, she could only stare at her friend.

"Are you all right?" he asked, slightly thrown off by her actions. He reclaimed his footing, picking up his Adidas, socks and the bar towel.

Her fingers lightly grazed the spot in which he had kissed her. "Yes, Yash. I'm fine. It's just that …" Still processing the sensation, she began to scrutinize every detail of his person. He was remarkably similar to the man in her dreams, but how could Yash be him, the one who had saved her? He was a bouncer in a club, arrogant at times, yet … No, there was no way her newfound love was also her savior. The coincidence would be too uncanny. "It's nothing. Really, I'm fine."

"Keh." He eyed her intently, before dismissing her strange reaction. "I need to get cleaned up. I'll be back in a few minutes and then we can grab something to eat, if you want."

"Sounds fantastic." She tried to sound cheery, but faded memories overwhelmed her mind. She couldn't help dwell on the past as she watched him walk away.

———


	16. Therapy

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Sixteen: Therapy**

As often as incomprehensible, guttural phrases escaped Inuyasha's mouth, a linguist could claim the discovery of a new language. That was, of course, if he or she could understand the grunts, grumbles and varying syllables that were more animal than sentient currently erupted from his mouth.

The bouncer was on his hands and knees in downward dog style with his head crammed into the cabinet where he kept his things. He tossed a t-shirt out of the hole, letting it land haphazardly about Bankotsu's office. The garment joined two other shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of red hakama pants, a hairbrush, deodorant and three packs of chicken ramen.

He pulled and jerked, waggling his posterior as he searched his duffle bag that he kept in the cupboard. Another series of loud curses exploded from the irritated man when the object of his search didn't appear. The sounds were muffled by his surroundings, but reverberated throughout the box. It masked the click of the door opening to the office and the snickers of his friends.

"Yash, what are you doing?" Bankotsu asked. His eyes scanned the mess strung about his workspace. Several garments hung on the back of the sofa, the hakama pants had landed on his desk lamp and the rest littered the floor from one end to the room's door. It almost resembled Yash's apartment — on a good day.

The nightclub owner's brother stood beside him, head tilted in admiration of the wiggling rear-end. The overtly feminine man grinned like a kid in a candy store.

Startled by the sudden address, Inuyasha jumped, smacking the back of his head against the roof of the cube. A slew of fresh profanity seeped out. He crawled backward, just enough for his aching head to clear the edge of the cabinet. One hand rubbed the back of his dark hair. "Trying to kill me …," he grumbled indignantly. His golden eyes shot daggers at his two friends, before he stuck his head back into the small space to continue his rummaging.

Irritated over being ignored, Bankotsu crossed his arms across his chest. The fabric of his form-fitting green vest bowed just above his appendages. "Yash," he said sharply. "What are you doing?"

The bouncer growled in annoyance like a stray dog protecting its supper from an unruly pup. He launched yet another shirt over his shoulder, forcing his friends to split apart to allow the fabric to fly between them. "I'm looking for my keys." The words were muffled, but at least something other than the garbled grunts the man usually communicated in when he was in a bad mood.

Jakotsu giggled. "Honey, they are hanging off your ass." He flipped his wrist, gesturing to the item swishing across the taut fabric of Yash's jeans.

The rummaging ceased when Yash reached behind him to still the shaking key set. He unhooked the clip from his belt loop and set them down on the ground. "Not those," he corrected. "I'm looking for my house keys."

Bankotsu moved through the debris and squatted down beside the younger man. "As in your _house_, house?" His dark brows furrowed in confusion.

Yash rotated his hips and flopped to sit awkwardly on the floor while his head remained in the hole. He bent his neck to see past the lip of the cabinet. "Yes, those keys. I need to use the pool."

"Pool!" a joyous outburst erupted. "Can I come with, Yash? I would so love to see you in a …" Jakotsu clapped in his eagerness.

"No!" the bouncer said curtly, cutting the bartender off. He was hardly in the mood to deal with Jakotsu today. Much to his aggravation, the bouncer had spent the bulk of the morning looking for the errant set while Kagome rehearsed at Hachioji Studio. He also hadn't slept much the night before, which only added to his petulance. Kagome had slept over — her in his bed and him on the couch like a gentleman. Having her so close made it impossible for him to do anything but lay in a wakeful silence. She looked like an angel, nestled amongst his covers, and he had desperately wanted to slip beneath the folds, holding her until the sun was high into the day. He craved her in ways he never thought a woman could be craved. Not even his lost beloved ever stirred some of the thoughts and feelings Kagome did. It disturbed him, yet thrilled him; scared him, yet inspired him. His emotions warred, and for that reason, he remained impassive to his desires, standing firm behind the barriers of his heart. He sighed, going back to his search.

Jakotsu shrugged. "That's fine. I'm sure Kagsy will dish next time I see her …"

It was a good thing that Bankotsu had situated himself next to Inuyasha. The bouncer finally snapped. He launched at Jakotsu with a roar. His boss caught him by one arm, while the other flailed for the man in the purple sarong skirt and flower print blouse. The bartender screamed, rushing from the room to escape the snarling fighter.

"I swear to all the Kami I'm going to kill him!" Inuyasha yelled. When the racing of his blood finally settled, Yash shrugged off Bankotsu's grasp.

"Give him a break, Yash. You know he's had a crush on you since we were kids," the older man reminded. Bankotsu often played devil's advocate to smooth over situations; that was, of course, when he wasn't playing the devil himself and inciting chaos. Some days, it just depended on the well-dressed businessman's mood.

"Can I break his nose?" the bouncer muttered in annoyance. He dropped back to his knees and started digging back through the cabinet.

"I'd prefer if you didn't," the older man returned, as if Yash actually meant the quip. No matter how annoyed the bouncer got with Jak, he would never harm a hair on the bartender's head. "Um, Yash, you're not going to find your keys in there …."

"How would you know?" He shuffled a bit more through his bag, wondering how he ever got such a collection of stuff in the space.

"Because you threw them in my middle desk drawer back when you first started working here." Bankotsu laughed. He leaned against the cabinets. "Or were you too wasted to remember that?" Yash had been wasted that night, beyond anything Bank had ever seen. In fact, five minutes after Inuyasha declared he was never going home again, Bank and Jak had traded off holding his hair while he repeatedly vomited over the toilet. It was a sad night and even worse time for Yash, who still openly broke down into tears at the very thought of Kikyo.

Inuyasha sat back on his heels. He growled low in his throat as he stomped to his feet and across the room. He rounded the desk and yanked the middle drawer open. He fished through the office items until he found a single silver key on a ring with an alarm remote. He quickly pocketed it. "I'm late to pick up Kagome," he announced and headed for the door.

"Oh, no you don't …," Bankotsu called. He bent down and picked up the other set of keys Inuyasha had left by the cupboards. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, dangling the metal charms. "You get to clean up this mess and when you are done, you can have your bike and apartment keys back." He smirked. "Good luck picking up Kagome without your motorcycle."

The bouncer could only glare at the nightclub owner. The guttural, primal sounds erupted low in his throat, crossing his lips in unintelligible speech. "Someday, I'm going to kill you in your sleep," he declared peevishly and loud enough for Bank to hear. His boss really was as much a pain in the backside as his brother, but if it wasn't for the brothers, there was no way Yash could have remained anonymous for the last year and half. No other job would pay him under the table. He owed them, but it didn't mean there were days he didn't want to kill them. Today was one such day. Thank Kami he was spending the rest of it with Kagome.

———

Kagome gasped no louder than a pin dropping against a tile floor. She could hardly believe the sight before her — a house, a mansion in which her entire family shrine could have fit. The large home resembled a Feudal Era castle with the slope and shingling of the roof, the large veranda walks and the sliding doors. It fit perfectly in the gardens that reached from the frame of the house to the high stone walls and the gate they had entered through. Smaller footpaths weaved their way through the wooded oasis, as did the wider limestone driveway that climbed the gentle slopping hill through the trees to the front of the mansion. He had brought her to heaven in a ritzy neighborhood of Tokyo.

"What is this place?" Kagome pulled off the motorcycle helmet and secured it to his bike. She shook out her dark, wavy hair.

Inuyasha only smiled over her reaction. He unzipped his leather jacket and then pulled off his gloves. "Why? Do you like it?" He tossed his gloves in the leather satchel secured to his bike.

The dancer nodded, still awestruck and she had yet to see the interior of the great home. "It's absolutely beautiful, tranquil and …" She spun around with her arms extended out to take in the panoramic depth of her surroundings once more. "Huge."

The bouncer threw back his head and laughed. "The estate is called Jaku*, so I'm glad you find it tranquil — it's meant to be." He rounded his bike and extended his hand to her. "Come on. I'll show you inside."

Kagome took his hand, twining her fingers with his as he led her to the front door. "When you said you had a surprise for me today, I didn't realize you were taking me to heaven," she said absently, paying more attention to every detail of the great home than to where she was walking.

Growing up at a shrine, it was hard to imagine anyone living in a place like this, or even being able to afford it. Her father had been a businessman, who traveled the world, but even he only earned enough money to support his family and save for his children's future. The money had been used for other things since his death, keeping food on the table and books and supplies not covered by Kagome's scholarship. It was beyond her how anyone could live this way.

The dancer stopped abruptly, panic striking her as suddenly as the wind. She tugged on Yash's arm to spin the man toward her. She bit her lip, uneasy at entering the great domicile when she had no idea who owned the property. "Is it — Is it all right that we are here?" She pulled again, this time trying to lead him to the bike. "I don't want to get in trouble."

Inuyasha double stepped to catch up to the retreating dancer. He grabbed her other hand, pulling the ballerina to face him. He gently squeezed her soft hands and then brought them up to kiss each set of her delicate knuckles. He grinned at her, amused by her uneasiness. "It's fine, Kagome. I promise." Using his hold on her hands, he drew her closer to press his lips upon her cheek. He had been doing that a lot the last few days, a prelude of sorts to what he was really building up his courage for.

"But how do you know?" she demanded. Her doe-eyes were wide with fear.

After dropping one of her hands, he brought his up to brush back the loose tendrils of her hair. She had braided the top half of it into a crown, wrapped at the top of her head, but the length of the midnight tresses still hung down her back. Small wisps protruded from the woven headpiece. He considered the question, debating a lie, but not wanting to put such a thing between them. He was already going to have a lot of explaining to do if and when he decided to tell her how he came to be Yash Narita. "I grew up here," he answered honestly. He shrugged dismissively. "And technically, I own it."

"You what?" Her voice cracked in surprise.

"I own it," he reiterated. "Now calm down and relax. This is a good surprise."

Relenting to his will, Kagome allowed the man to lead her back to the front entrance. They climbed the four steps to the veranda. Inuyasha unlocked the door and then pressed the remote on the keychain to deactivate the house alarm. The estate hadn't always had such a feature, but his father had it installed since the house was usually unoccupied. He opened the front door and held it open to let Kagome enter first.

The foyer of the home was large and open with green granite tile floors and large bamboo trees sitting in the corners. On either side of the door, two benches with white plush cushions were pressed against the wall. Beneath the seats were shoe racks and slippers for guests of the house.

Inuyasha dropped down on the bench and unlaced his boots. With a smile adorning his handsome features, he gestured for Kagome to sit down and do the same. Discretely, he scanned his former home, craning his neck slightly to look down the hall that led to the main room of the house. He could see white sheets draping the furniture. The paintings that once lavished the wall directly in his view had been taken down. The fact the placed smelled like cleaning supplies and not dust hinted that his father hadn't let the home fall into disarray simply because it was unoccupied.

"Follow me," Yash said. He walked through the foyer, sliding his socks across the smooth floor like he had since he was a child. He unlatched the sliding doors and shoved one to the right and one to the left, leaving the panels open to the center expanse of the house.

"Wow," Kagome gasped out again. At the center of the house, there was a large pool surrounded by an array of tropical flora. The usual pool-side furniture sat grouped near the far corner of the pool, next to what Kagome was certain was a hot tub. Directly across from them was a three-tier tile and granite tower with plants around the top, and pebbles within the empty basins of the levels. "What is it?" she asked, pointing to the strange crafted mountain.

Yash smiled crookedly. "I'll show you." He drew her farther into the center room and then left her. His tall form disappeared behind potted bushes towering along the room's edges. Several loud clicks later, brilliant lights illuminated the water, adding to the sunlight filtering through the skylights above. Another click sounded and the stone mountain came to life. Water spewed from its top, filled the top basin and then trickled down into a waterfall that dumped into the still waters of the larger body.

There were many things that had managed to still Kagome's breath in her life, but the beauty of this room made everything else pale in comparison. Her hands covered her mouth as she sucked in a breath, mesmerized and delighting in the splendor. When Yash rejoined her, she slipped an arm around his waist and hugged him from the side. "I love it. I absolutely love it here," she said breathlessly. "But I don't understand. What are we doing here and why don't you still live here?"

The bouncer wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping the dancer close to his person. "To answer your first question," he started. "We're going swimming. As for the second, this place is a little too large and lonely for just one person. Plus, I like my _rat hole_ apartment."

Kagome looked up at him, slightly surprised over both accounts. She also hadn't planned on needing a change of clothes; in fact, she had expected anything other than relaxing in such a lovely place. It was the Garden of Eden, and she was unworthy of such an oasis. "I didn't bring a swimming suit, Yash."

He quickly pressed his lips to her temple. "Don't even worry about it, Kagome." He pointed to a sliding door at an angle to them. "That's one of the spare bedrooms. There's a wardrobe in there. If you open the door on the right, there are swimming suits, robes, anything you might need. You should be able to find something." He grinned. "Just make sure you are comfortable."

Her long hair swished to the side as she tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"This isn't all fun, Kagome. We have work to do," he said vaguely. He wore a confident smile, begging for her trust.

Kagome stepped away from him. "Are you going to tell me exactly what you are planning?" she quizzed. Curiosity killed the cat and Kagome was feeling feline today. What motive could he have, bringing her to this mansion? Who exactly was Yash Narita as well? Perhaps she'd get some answers today. One, precisely, had been on her mind since the night before.

He fingered her hair, letting the silk strand slide between his fingers. "Go change, and then I'll explain exactly what I want from you." He didn't mean it to sound so seductive, but the words laced with his own desires left him slightly breathless at the end.

"Fine. I'll _submit_ to your will, but if I'm going to trust you, then you have to answer any questions honestly today."

"Whatever gets you in the pool, Kagome …," he countered with a laugh, clueless as to what he had just committed himself to. "I'm going to change." Excusing himself, he disappeared back through the foyer. He smiled when Kagome's squeal carried throughout the house.

———

Kagome loved this fairytale home, but Inuyasha did not share the same sentiments. Jaku held too many memories for the young man. They haunted him now like a weight sitting upon his shoulders, threatening to smother him. As he walked down the halls, he could almost hear his mother's voice calling him to the dojo to spar with his sensei or to meet with his tutors. Those memories made him smile. His childhood, when his mother was alive, had been happy, content.

When she passed away just after his thirteenth birthday, his father had insisted they move to the larger estate on the outskirts of the metropolis. It was private, wooded and a fortress unto itself. He had felt trapped there under his father's expectations and desires, which the young man never believed he could live up to. Nothing he did made his father happy, least of all when he boldly announced that he and his longtime girlfriend — a member of the well-respected Narita family — were getting married.

Inuyasha had been in his second year as a pre-med at Tokyo University. Kikyo had been living in New York, attending Julliard for only a year before she was offered a position in a dance company in the city. But after two years apart, she had chosen to return to Tokyo to be closer to Yash, since his school, training and father had kept him from visiting her as often as they both wanted.

They had fallen in love in high school, meeting at a party his father had thrown for his associates. Kikyo's father, Kikyo and Kaede had been among the many guests, and it was Kikyo who had found him hiding in one of the hall closets to avoid the crowd. They had sat in the space for hours, talking about everything from music and literature to Yash's desire to go to medical school when he graduated from high school. They had loved each other in the naïve fashion of youth, and it had blossomed into affections that Yash believed would last forever. She had been his first everything.

After a rather public wedding despite Inutaisho's disapproval, they had moved to Jaku to get away from the stifling confines of Toride* and thus began their life as man and wife. It was five years ago now. Three and half years of that span, he had spent more time studying, in class, training and competing than he had in the arms of his wife. He always came home to her at night, but even that promise waned in the year before she died. He had forgotten the important things, the lessons his mother tried to teach him. Instead, he had become his father's son — caught up in duty, expectations and too busy trying to be the best, he lost himself, and finally, he had lost her. It was only then that he realized the mistakes of his young life. Guilt and grief brought the focused man to his knees.

Nineteen months had passed since he walked away, and still this place reminded him of the days following Kikyo's death. He had sat alone in the bedroom they shared, crying at times, screaming into the night at others until he was numb to everything and everyone around him. He felt that numbness claim him again as he made his way to his bedroom, their bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, it too had been preserved. The bed was draped in a white sheet, as was the dresser and the wardrobe. He sat on the edge of the western-style bed and pulled up the sheet covering his nightstand. He opened the drawer and glanced at the image he had thrown in it to escape the sight of her face. He withdrew the silver-frame containing the portrait of his wife on their wedding day. His thumb stroked the picture.

"It's hard to be here," he said softly to the photo. "This place reminds me of us, our life together, my mother and so many happy memories when I wish I could forget." He kissed the glass and then dropped the frame back down. "But, having her here, Kikyo feels right as well. I hope you'll forgive me, and I hope you understand, because I — I think I'm in love with her." He traced the image through the glass for a few more seconds, before putting the photograph away. Everything haunted him, and yet he could feel those apparitions releasing him from the pains of the past.

Now if only he could release himself and finally kiss Kagome. He had to believe that Kikyo would want him to be happy, to no longer punish himself over her death. He had to believe it, because he was having a hard time quantifying the depth of his feelings for the tiny dancer down the hall.

He flipped down the sheet, hiding the evidence of any disturbance in the room, and then went to his old closet in search of his swim trunks.

———

Ten minutes later, Inuyasha sat at the edge of the pool. His legs kicked through the water creating ripples in the pristine surface. He flexed his feet, creating additional waves beneath the surface. Kagome had yet to emerge from the guest bedroom, but periodically his golden eyes would flit to the door that barred her from him.

He had been thinking about her a lot the last few days, especially since Bankotsu had told him about the kiss and calling her Kikyo. The very thought made him wonder if her resemblance to his lost love was why he kept her around, but the more he analyzed their situation, the clearer his affections for her became. Kagome was sunshine despite the rain; her spirit made him soar in ways Kikyo never had. He never doubted how much he loved his wife, but he no longer doubted the possibility that perhaps he could move on, love again, live again. He was in the middle now — between ready and willing and reserved and unsure.

"So what do you think?" a shy voice queried.

He jerked his head to gaze in the direction of her gentle voice. His breath stilled. The dancer wore a black, two-piece swimming suit that exposed her long creamy legs, the defined muscles of her lithe torso and the perfect posture that gave her the appearance of height even though she had small frame. Her arms crossed over her body as if trying to hide herself from view.

Inuyasha swallowed hard. "Beautiful as always," he said, not bothering to hide the admiration.

The dancer's body flushed at the compliment. She joined him by the poolside and dipped her feet into the cool recesses of the liquid. "So what _work_ did you have in mind?" She threw her arm up, tossing her blue scarf behind her back.

The bouncer arched a brow at the action. He had been so engrossed with admiring every facet of her shapely body, that he had missed the fact she hadn't removed her silken adornment. "You aren't seriously going to swim with that thing on, are you?" He tugged at the cloth.

"Well, I'm not taking it off," she said quickly. Her pleasant features contorted into a look of panic. She withdrew a few inches as if afraid he would physically remove it for her.

"Ka-go-me," he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable of her name with a hint of affection. "Is there something beneath it you don't want me to see?" he asked in jest.

"Yes."

The response unsettled him. "Keh." He was a little confused by it, but the chlorinated water would ruin the fabric; not to mention how awkward it was going to be to swim with it on. "But you still need to take it off to swim."

"Then I won't swim," the dancer said defiantly. "I'll just sit here at the edge."

His long black hair swung from side-to-side as he nodded his head 'no.' "You have to swim, Kagome. Or, what I have to show you is pointless."

She sighed, as if about to relent, but stubbornly she held her ground and instead changed the topic to what was on her friend's mind. "What do you want to show me?"

"Take the scarf off and then I'll tell you," he sought to barter.

"Nope." Her arms crossed over her bare stomach. "Tell me what you have planned, and then —" She paused, debating whether to make the deal with the devil. She had never shown anyone her scars after the accident except for Sango and her family. Her hands shook at the prospect of revealing them to Yash. She hated the marks on her throat. "— There's something I need to tell you about …" She swallowed hard. "Why I wear the scarf."

With a sigh, Inuyasha hopped into the pool. The subject would have to wait a few more minutes. Perhaps if he put her mind at ease, she'd feel comfortable enough to remove the cloth. He waded through the waist-high water and stood just before Kagome. Her legs floated in the water at either side of him. "Keh, the other night when I was asking you about what types of therapy they did for your leg, I had a reason," he started. He picked up her right leg in his hands, stroking the scars with his fingers and the palms of his hands. "Because you're an athlete, you need more than basic treatments. Your leg's already stronger than the average person because of your dancing, but still not strong enough to support your weight for longer than a few seconds."

Yash released her leg and backed up a ways into the pool to give himself some room. With the same grace he had seen Kagome use time and again dancing, he extended his left leg out of the water and propped it up on the edge of the pool. He rotated his knee, exposing the flesh halfway up his muscular calf. He traced his fingers over a jagged scar.

"Do you see that?" Yash asked. Kagome nodded her head 'yes' to his question. "For my thirteenth birthday, my mother got me a bike. I had ridden a bike before, but it was my first one. I was so damn excited about the stupid thing that I rode it down the driveway out front." He laughed. "I got up some speed going down the hill and tried to break before I ran into the gate. I didn't realize how hard it was to stop on loose gravel. I ended up flipping the bike and smacking into the gate."

"Ouch," Kagome countered in sympathy, still clueless as to why he was telling her this childhood tale.

"Keh, no kidding," he retorted with a laugh. "Especially since I broke my fibula and the bone broke through my skin where the scar is." He lifted his leg back up and rotated it out to the side before dropping it back into the pool. "Well, when my leg healed, I was having trouble fighting. My father stuck me in the pool and told me to practice in the water. I didn't really understand the point of it at the time, but he explained to me that when you injure yourself, sometimes the best therapy is to do something low impact — something that will help rebuild the muscles, strengthen them, but not cause additional damage."

"For example …" Inuyasha backed up to the center of the pool. His hands dragged in the water as he walked. He cleared his throat, positioned his body into a fighter's stance and then launched out of the water. He rotated around, kicking his back leg to the side and landed in the same position he started in. His form had not faltered in the slightest. "After I broke my leg, it took me a year and half to be able to do that again." He smiled ruefully. "We don't have that long before your audition, but I'm thinking the same principles apply."

Kagome's brows rose. She stretched her legs out in the water. Her hands gripped the edge of the pool. "So, you want me to learn how to fight?" she asked, still trying to see the point of this intended therapy.

Inuyasha laughed loudly. He waded back to the edge of the pool. "No, I want you to practice your routine for the workshop audition in the pool — until you can do it without drowning yourself." He smirked. "It's harder than it looks, but at least if you fall, you won't be kissing the floor."

The dancer crossed her arms, not entirely sure she liked his teasing. At least it was better than his usual brooding. "What makes you think I want to practice in the pool?"

"Because you want to be a prima, Kagome, and this will help you," he reasoned. He stepped closer to the woman. Her legs floated once more to either side of him. He placed his hands on her hips. "Now, take off the scarf, and show me you are worthy of becoming a prima." He had thrived on challenges as a child, even while he was in school, and somehow he knew this princess was the same.

"But I don't want you to see my throat," she whispered. Her eyes lowered to the lapping water.

Inuyasha placed his fingers on her chin, lifting it until he could read the depths of her chocolate eyes. "Why, Kagome?"

Under his gaze, the dancer felt as if she could never say no. She licked her lips and fought the nervousness gripping her body. "Because I don't want you to see my scars."

He felt her shiver in his touch and stepped forward again, until his torso pressed against the pool edge. The hand at her waist wrapped around her back, drawing her closer to him. The hand at her chin cupped her cheek. "What scars?" he pressed on.

She swallowed hard. Salty tears formed at the edges of her eyes, but she did not avert her gaze or flee as her blood told her to. "My accident. I didn't just break my ankle like I told you." A knot formed, blocking her speech.

A tingling sensation enveloped Yash's body. His hands felt like a thousand needles were pricking him simultaneously. With a shaking hand, he unwound the blue silk from her throat to reveal a series of jagged red marks. He traced the slightly discolored lines marring the otherwise creamy tones of her skin with his fingertips. He dragged them down toward her clavicle, and then ran his thumb over the worse scar of them all — a tracheotomy cut. "Ka-go-me."

The dancer's chin dropped. Tears rolled down her flawless cheeks, mixing with the pool water when they crested off her jaw line. "When I told you that I was hurt badly, I left out the part where I almost died," she explained. "The truck hit Sango's car on the passenger side. Sango was knocked unconscious when she hit her head against the steering wheel. The glass from the window shattered and embedded in my throat. I couldn't breathe; I could barely move." Feeling a surge of confidence, she raised her eyes to find his again. Finding a mix of emotions there — among them she believed were love and concern — she continued, "I don't remember much, fleeting images really, but I do remember the fear I felt because no one would help us."

All the while, Inuyasha's hand stroked the gnarly marks. His other hand toyed in her hair, trying to soothe her fear. His heart rate had nearly doubled as she spoke, sending him into a near panic himself. The story sounded familiar, too close for comfort, and he had to bite his tongue from asking the question burning at the back of his mind, _'You were that girl?'_ He took a deep breath, treading lightly to spare her raw emotions. "How did you get out of the car?"

"A man saved my life. He pulled away the crumpled door, picked me up in his arms and saved me." She bit her lip. "He used a knife and cut my throat open and shoved a ballpoint pen in it." She cringed, although she couldn't remember the pain. She lifted a hand and cupped his jaw. Her thumb caressed his cheek. "I was choking to death, practically drowning in my own blood, and he saved my life." She bit her lip, and then proceeded boldly. "I — I know now why you seemed so familiar to me, Yash."

The bouncer's mouth went dry at her statement. She _was_ the girl. Did she really know what he _had_ done? Did she have any idea that in his stupidity, he could have killed her instead of saved her? Only a desperate idiot would have done what he did to her that night, and the very thought made him choke. If he had failed, he wouldn't be holding her in his arms right now; he didn't deserve her gratitude. "Why's that?" he whispered, if only to hide the knot hindering his speech.

She leaned forward so that her face was in his. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It was you, wasn't it?" she finally asked the question that had burned in her mind since he had kissed her cheek at the club. Her heart ticked away the seconds in the same way his did. "You pulled me from the wreckage."

"No," he lied, unsure why he was doing so, but feeling the need stronger than anything he had ever felt. It was self-preservation, a wall to hide his stupidity. "No, it wasn't me, Kagome. I'm not even a doctor. Do — do you have any idea how stupid _he_ was? _He_ could have killed you." Finally, he voiced the arguments that barred him from sharing the truth, his reasons for breaking the promise he made to answer her questions honestly not a half hour before.

"It doesn't matter. I'm still alive. I owe _him_ everything, Yash," she intoned with all the conviction she felt in her soul. A part of her knew he was lying, and her pleas in her savior's favor sought to force the truth. "_He_ saved my life; _he_ gave me a chance to live again. And even if it was stupid, because of _him_, I get to be here with you now." She paused, finding the strength to challenge his denials. "It was you. I know it."

"No, Kagome," he pleaded, trying to convince her otherwise. "It wasn't me. I'm not him."

"Yes," she whispered, as if the intoned word would force her will upon him. She swallowed hard, realizing how close their lips had drawn to each other. She licked the soft pink skin of her own before bravely closing the distance and kissing him passionately.

Yash drew in a breath, surprised at her advance. A month ago, he would have immediately pulled away, pushed her aside. But somewhere along the road, he had fallen in love with Kagome. His entire body trembled violently before he relaxed into the sweetness of her kiss. Raw and innocent, she expressed a desire that set his soul on fire.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to deepen the affectionate exchange. Every muscle in his body burned with a need to devour the maiden and never end the fiery kiss. He wrapped his other arm around her hips and forced her body to his. Her legs wrapped about his torso as he stepped back. He pulled her into the pool with him, holding her body just above the blue liquid. Deeper, farther they fell into each other, until they were submerged up to their necks in the water. Unable to breathe, the duo broke apart. Their foreheads were pressed together; their hands roamed along each other's backs.

Kagome panted heavily in his arms. "Even if it's not you, Yash, you've still done more for me than anyone," she confessed. "I hope you know what you mean to me." She let her legs float out into the water and then down until her feet touched the bottom.

"I think you made your point," Yash countered breathlessly. His mind still reeled over the heated embrace. "And, I have to say, someday, I'd like to thank _him_ for being an idiot." He tilted his head, breaking the contact of their foreheads, and brushed his lips lightly against hers. "Wow, woman, where did you learn to kiss?" he asked when he finally released her from the gentler display of affection.

The dancer smirked. Her fingers toyed with his long hair. "I have no idea what you mean."

He snorted with laughter and grinned. "Sure you don't … but feel free to do that anytime," he told her. "Cause I now have no idea where I'd be without you." He came dangerously close to kissing her again.

Kagome wiggled her body against his, feeling an uncontrollable need to touch as much of his flesh as she could. "Probably still picking fights at _Seven_, spending your free time in the office annoying Bank and Jak or getting drunk every night." She stole a quick kiss, making sure he knew she was teasing him.

"Feh, whatever, Princess," he said dismissively, but he knew it was true. Even a month ago, he had still been angry at the world, hated his father, hated his brother, missed his wife, missed his former life … But now, he looked forward to waking up each day for the newfound purpose in his life: Kagome. He still had a long way to go before he could fully let go of the guilt he felt over loving her and before he'd feel ready to face the people he knew loved him. But he didn't want to think about that any more today. All he wanted to think about was the angel in his arms. "Don't think kissing me is going to get you out of _work_." He smiled broadly. He could give as well as he received.

Kagome laughed. "Fine, Narita-sama," she said mockingly. "I'll try my routine in the pool. But afterward, I'm soaking in that hot tub." A seductive smile crossed her now kiss-bruised lips. "With you," she whispered huskily in his ear, "And, we're going to discuss the fact that I think you're lying to me." Reluctantly, she began to pull away.

Yash's arms tightened around her, forcing her body flush with his. He turned his head, touching his cheek to hers. His warm breath kissed her earlobe. "I'm not lying, Kagome," the untruthful words flowed from his lips, laced with the heat of his desires for her. "I know you don't believe me, but the man who saved you and I, _we_ are not the same person. I don't even know who _he_ is."

The bouncer turned his head a bit more, letting his lips skim her cheek on their trek to her cherry-sweet mouth. He claimed another taste of her lips, deepening it until their tongues had no choice but to duel for the right of exploration. They sunk back into the water; their hands skimming and memorizing the contours of each other's mid-sections. All too soon, the need for air forced them apart.

While she panted heavily, her chocolate orbs bore into his golden eyes. His amber pools seem to search her very soul in an attempt to decipher what had transpired between them. Words could not express the magnitude of their connection. It scared Yash, thrilled Kagome, and dared them both to believe that the future was brighter than they had both ever believed.

Kagome inhaled a shuddered breath. "I should probably get to work," she said reluctantly.

"Yes, you probably should," he echoed, voice hushed. He released her small frame, letting her float away from him. He fought the urge to pull her back to him and never let her go. He wanted to possess her — mind, body and soul. '_Someday_,' he promised silently, he would get past the one thing still preventing him from yielding his soul to her — guilt.

He sighed and pushed his way through the water. The palms of his hands skimmed the surface of the as he walked to the edge of the pool. Turning around, he pulled his weight up to sit out of the water. The amber facets of his eyes never left the princess who stood at the center of the pool. When Kagome began to move, he could swear she danced to the beat of his heart.

———

_*Jaku means tranquility in Japanese and Toride means fortress._


	17. Revisited

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Seventeen: Revisited**

_One year earlier …_

The unconscious rejoined the land of the living with a lethargic groan to mark his disdain for the conscious state. His tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered as he squinted and squeezed his eyelids to cast away the glaze of sleep. He snorted and coughed, clearing away the thickness of his throat, before letting out another groan and burying his face back into his pillow. His arms folded around the plush accoutrement. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent. He gritted his teeth when he discovered only the masculine musk of his own body instead of the fragrance of his lady. It was the same everyday. He hoped to find a trace of his former life, to wake from the nightmare, but all he found was the daunting truth of reality, the stench of loss.

Inuyasha released the pillow and slid his arms beneath his body. He pushed up on the mattress only to flop back down with a resounding cry of agony. The palm of one hand automatically rose to knead his brow and chase away the spiking ache. After six months of hangovers, the young man had grown accustomed to the pain. The results of overconsumption were far better than the memories that plagued his slumber. Once joyful images now taunted and tormented him to the point of insanity. He found no comfort in the happier times, only hatred, guilt and agony, and the unshakable feeling that _her_ death was his fault. He hated sleeping for that reason, except when he drank. He never dreamed when he drank, which left only the waking hours to muddle through.

His petulance continued as he shoved up on the mattress and forced his aching body into a sitting position. His eyes remained half slits as he rose to his feet a few minutes later and shuffled to the bathroom, flipping the light on in habitual fashion. Pausing in front of the mirror, he stared at the face reflected back at him: Haggard features that aged him beyond his twenty-three years; tired-eyes devoid of the life they once held; black crescents blackened the sensitive tissue below the hallow sockets; and black hair that no more belonged to him than the wind. It was no wonder no one recognized him, even he barely knew the man gazing back. This person was damaged, at best, both mentally and physically.

After growling at the stranger in the mirror, he turned on the faucet. Warm water erupted from the spout. He cupped his hands beneath the waterfall and brought it up to his face. He repeated the gentle washing, rubbing his eyes when the temperate liquid fell back into the sink. He yanked a red hand towel off the rack next to him and pressed it to his face. He huffed and tossed it haphazardly down on the countertop.

The palms of his hands pressed the ceramic surface as he leaned in to reexamine the stranger in the mirror. He tilted his head to the side, noting the starkly contrasted hair mixed in with the black at the front of his hairline. His natural platinum blond was creeping through his latest dye job. The almost silver strands resembled premature gray, and it was only a matter of days before the coloring job was obvious. He grunted. He hated dying his hair — the chemical stench was unbearable.

He ran a hand through the mess and stepped away from the looking glass. He felt like Alice at times, trapped in a topsy-turvy world that made absolutely no sense, and no matter how hard he tried to find his life on the other side, it only sent him deeper down the rabbit hole. '_Life sucked_,' he concluded, and then went to get dressed.

Twenty minutes and a bowl of ramen later, he grabbed a red hooded sweatshirt and tugged it on. His head popped through the hole; he quickly shoved his arms through the sleeves; and then he snatched his keys off the small dinette table. With all the gentleness of a bull, he yanked the door open but stopped in the entryway. He glared at the waterfalls careening off the rooftops around him and the onslaught of weather that would soak him before he made it down the metal staircase and into the alleyway. A shiver traveled the length of his spine.

"Shit," he grouched.

He stared at the downpour for a few more seconds before spinning around and heading for the pile of clothes in the corner. Shirts tossed through the air until he found the black, trench-style coat in the middle of the mountain of laundry. He pulled on the outerwear and then headed back toward the entrance. He tripped over loose fabric and bumped into the couch on his way. He muttered a string of expletives before he finally managed to exit the apartment and into the nightmare-worthy storm. He hated the rain.

Inuyasha sprinted down the staircase and quickly turned down the main thoroughfare near his apartment. His hood covered this head; the collar of his coat stood straight up to further protect against the torrential onslaught. He stayed close to the buildings' edges and sought shelter underneath the storefront awnings that flapped in the wind. '_Eight more blocks of thunder and lightning hell_,' he thought tersely, only to let the emotion slip away like the wind. He was too exhausted to hang on to his rage today.

Despite the rain, the evening crowd scurrying home from work still occupied the sidewalks around him, huddling under a sea of umbrellas. He fell into step with the herd scuttling along. It was the same monotonous drill everyday with the only variation being whether he felt too lethargic to care or think, or whether the uncontrollable rage burned enough for him to curse each and every body around him. They were stupid, fearful lemmings, who couldn't divert from their course long enough to save their own skin let alone someone else's.

When he was younger — _'Naïve,'_ he would argue — such derogatory ideas would have disgusted him. Part of his drive to become a doctor was to preserve life. He had viewed humanity as precious, individual, special — which nothing could replace. Hatred, anger, helplessness now festered in a heart where love once stirred. The negative emotions poisoned his soul far more thoroughly than any amount of alcohol could. His barks, his growls, his curses, his demeanor all served to keep the world around him at arm's length. He hated the world, but not nearly as much as he hated himself.

Lethargy countered the intense rage that gripped him. There was no middle ground between the two. On days he didn't burn with anger, he lived beneath a dismal gray sky that would never release itself to summer. He felt that way today, too tired to overanalyze the automatons beside him, too tired to notice the details aside from the rain.

The bouncer hunched his shoulders a bit more to stave off the downpour. He paused with the crowd, waiting for the traffic lights to change so that they could cross the busy boulevard. His downcast eyes stared at the spattering of rain on the concrete. It bounced before settling in the puddles on the sidewalks or merging with the small river flowing toward the storm drains. He shifted his weight, allowing the pooling droplets on his shoulders to join their brethren in the mini-lakes at his feet.

"Oh!" — "Look out!" — "Kami!" — "No!"

The exclamations, followed by the squeal of breaks and a long drawn out horn, drew Inuyasha's attention. His head jerked up just as a semi-truck slammed into the side of a passenger car. The groan of metal crumpling erupted. It mixed with the shriek of shattered glass and the immediate cries of the pedestrians gawking at the little Mitsubishi. His heart skipped a beat and then he froze, like a statue, staring with the same expression of horror as the crowd around him. No one moved. The paralysis of fear gripped the accident's audience, even more so when the foul stench of gasoline made its presence known. It would take only a single spark to ignite the fluid and blow the passenger car to hell.

With a snort of disdain for human kind's fundamental lack of humanity, Inuyasha assessed the site. The truck driver had already managed to limp away, but was it even possible that the occupants of the car survived? He pushed past several people in order to get a better look at the inhabitants, stopping at the curb. His breath hitched. The woman, the passenger, writhed in pain. Her large brown eyes were wide like a doe's; her lips moved ever so slightly. She cried for attention; she cried for help. The sight of her froze his nerves completely.

'_Kikyo!'_ the resounding echo of his mind screamed, trying to thaw his frozen system. He sucked in a ragged breath, unable to breathe. '_Kikyo.'_ His mind cried the name with all the ferocity of the storm. _'No!'_

Body trembling, he advanced toward the vehicle. His heart raced; his breaths heaved as he came close to panicking. He didn't know how or why, but she was there — bloodied and dying within the wreckage. Logically, what he saw could not be, but the fear of losing her again when he had the chance to save her drove him forward.

Halfway to the car, another bystander grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy," the man hissed. "There's gas leaking everywhere!"

Inuyasha shrugged off the grasp with little effort. "Get the driver," he ordered through clenched teeth.

"No way! If you want to commit suicide …" the man defied. He threw his arms into the air defensively.

With a primal growl, Inuyasha yanked him by the shirt front and lifted the shorter man up onto his toes. "Get Kaede out of the damn car or, so help me, the gas will be the least of your worries when I get through with you!" He released the man, shoving slightly as he landed on his feet. He didn't wait to see whether the coward complied.

The bouncer raced to the vehicle. He yanked on the passenger door, expecting resistance, but finding none. It crumpled away from the frame, groaning as it shifted, and then dropped to the blacktop. Quickly, his mind accessed medical knowledge he thought he had blocked out. Blood covered the petite form anguishing in pain. He couldn't see the damage, at least not the way her body was angled. "Hold on, Kikyo," he whispered as he slipped his arm under her knees. The other arm eased behind her back. He cringed when she released a garbled scream. The cry set his hair on end. _'Please, please, don't let her die,'_ he begged silently.

He rushed to the sidewalk and set her down. It wasn't the ideal place with the rain coming down the way it was, but it was the best place to work — it was flat and it was away from the wreckage. He scanned her lithe body, assessing the damage. Her wild eyes stared into nothingness; the expression was as chilling as the precipitation.

"Can you hear me?" he question. His voice was forceful and more controlled than it had been in months. She continued to stare into oblivion, a gaze two steps from lifelessness, and then her eyes fluttered shut. "Hey, look at me; don't close your eyes," Inuyasha ordered. He guided her chin and he shook her gently, forcing her to open her eyes. "I cannot lose her. I cannot lose her." The quiet mantra fell across his lips, serving to quell his fear. Fear would not help him save his wife.

'_Think, think, think, think.'_ What should he do? His father once said that his hands could work miracles, and had believed his youngest son was predestined to be a doctor as much as he was fated to win an Olympic Gold Medal. The latter was utterly ridiculous, but pre-med had been piece of cake for Inuyasha, along with his emergency medical training he acquired in the process. He had hoped to work as an EMT while in his pre-med program, but his judo training had kept him from doing so. Saving lives was a part of who he was, as much as this woman was. He would not allow her to die.

"I can do this." He reassured more for himself than the fading female beneath him. She couldn't breathe; she was about to lose consciousness; she was about to drown in her own blood; and Inuyasha was floundering like a fish out of water. Perhaps it had been too long since he had rendered aid; perhaps, like everything else he had cherished, his knowledge of medicine amounted to a pile of crap. _'NO!'_ He couldn't think like that.

'_Think, think, think, think,'_ the chant began. This time around, the cadence of the simple mantra gave him an idea. His brother had done it once on a patient in anaphylactic shock. Inuyasha had been with him that day, accompanying him on his rounds out of sheer boredom while he waited for his father.

He patted down his pockets of his coat, pulling out a ballpoint pen, before searching frantically for his pocket knife. "This is going to hurt," he warned in a gentle tone.

Yash's hands deftly removed the pen tip and the plug at the other end of the plastic tube. _'Please work, please work,'_ he begged. _'Do not let me screw this up.'_ He straddled his beloved in order to pin her down but not hurt her further. The fingers of his shaking hand brushed away the blood coating her throat, trying to find the safest place to make the incision. He flipped open the blade and pressed the tip of the knife to her throat. He sent up another prayer to all the Kami in the heavens to guide him as the blade dug in. Blood oozed from the cut. Without hesitation, he put the hallow tube to her throat and slid it into the opening. Her breathing didn't ease, so he put his lips to the other end and sent several puffs through it.

Heartbeats marked the passage of time, thundering louder in his ears than the storm around him. He counted the thumps. One, two, three, and then she gasped. Her struggling body settled beneath him. His hands fell flat against the concrete on either side of her head in relief. He closed his eyes, thanking every spiritual entity he could think of for granting her a reprieve.

Inuyasha's eyes fluttered open to find her wide eyes once more. His breathing stilled. He shook his head and jerked back in surprise. He had expected to find his wife, but this face was not the one he used to wake to in the morning. The characteristics were similar, but not the same. An air of innocence haloed this girl.

Panic rose again, along with the bile souring his throat. _'Shit.'_ What had he done? He looked around quickly, catching a glimpse of the staring crowd and the emergency workers parking their vehicles. The driver had been dragged from the vehicle as well, but she was not Kaede as he thought. This woman was a year or two younger with darker hair than his wife's younger sibling. He swore aloud and jerked his head back to look at the woman beneath him.

He picked up her hands and wrapped them around her throat, securing the piece of plastic there. He didn't have much time. He had to leave the scene or he could kiss his life as Yash Narita goodbye. "Keep your hands at your throat; you need to keep the tube there," he ordered. She softened him though, and he hesitated when he knew he should run. "Just keep breathing, girl, calm, slow breaths." His throat choked. He didn't want to leave her, but he knew he had to. His lips pressed her cheek. "May whatever Kami you believe in protect you."

Yash jumped up abruptly, pulled his coat off and draped it over the girl. It was his final offering before sprinting up the street. He ignored the emergency workers' calls for him to halt. Their voices only drove him harder to flee. He ran for blocks, not even sure of his direction, and then turned up an alley. He stopped when he reached the end, turned and pressed his back against its cold exterior.

What had he done?

He lifted his chin to the sky. The rain washed over his pale skin, mingling with the tears flowing down his cheeks. His eyelashes fluttered, dusting off the droplets clinging to them. _'Who was she?'_ he questioned, and then he wondered why he had seen Kikyo in her stead. It wasn't possible, and yet he had seen her as surely as the rain fell from above.

Shaking hands were lifted, brought into view of honey-colored eyes. Shivers, caused by the rain and from the girl's effect upon, rattled his frame. She had ignited a fire, which had driven him from his lethargy and into action. He had forgotten the pain of his current existence, and became the man who had died with Kikyo six months prior — Inuyasha Takahashi, medical student, fighter, husband and son. It scared him, nearly witless, as he stood under the crying sky, trembling like a child. He couldn't be that man without Kikyo, and yet he relied on that past life to save that girl, that beautiful woman. None of it made sense.

Deep breaths expanded his chest, released slowly to calm him. Her blood still dripped from his hands, falling with the water to mingle with the pools on the saturated ground. With each breath he took, more and more of her life's essence washed from his hands and clothes. He let the rain cleanse him, and when the blood was no more — save traces upon his sweatshirt — he pushed forth from the wall and walked back into the black of endless night. His crafted barriers rose to block out the confusion dividing his mind between the past and the present. He allowed those walls to harden to steal. He refused to think about tonight. It never happened. He was Yash Narita now, a man who could barely take care of himself, let alone save a woman's life.

———

_The present …_

The man known as Yash Narita was losing his touch on reality. Wasn't the bouncer a jaded, unhappy pessimist who found beauty and joy in nothing? A year ago, the description would have held true. Even two months ago, it would have held somewhat true. His incessant drinking had scaled back significantly over the past few months though. Before that, he could count on his hands how many times he had been sober since he had taken on the bouncer persona. Had his father found out, the old man would have had him committed. He had not been a well-adjusted individual, and still wasn't on many levels.

He inhaled deeply, sucking in the fragrance of the woman asleep in his arms. Since meeting Kagome, his reality had slowly shifted to something lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could see sunshine between the gray clouds hovering above his head. It was strange and scary to be pulled out of his depression when he had dwelled there so long.

Yet sadly, he felt the urge to retreat from her. For the past week, his mind had replayed a night the year before, in which he had tried to save his wife. Only, it wasn't his wife he had saved, but the beautiful ballerina who took his gruff nature as a challenge more than a deterrent. What frightened him about the incident was that, had he been in his right mind, he wasn't sure he would have saved her. And Kami, that scared him to death.

Where would he be without Kagome? Her 'magic' had begun its work the night he saved her. Thinking back, he knew his soul had started to heal then. It had all been so subtle, so minor that he had missed the signs until they had all compounded. It was then he suspected he might be in love with the dancer, and as he held her close now, he could say without a doubt the pieces of his heart were merging back into a single form. The more those pieces came together, the harder it was for him to stop kissing her or stop his hands from caress her curves through the fabric of her clothing.

Guilt, however, overshadowed the newfound elations when he was alone — mostly over not saving Kagome, but a hallucination of Kikyo, and moving on from the person he believed was the love of his life. How could he do that to either of them? Kagome's beauty shown like the sun; she was not a Kikyo substitute. However, he had warred with the idea before he realized she was the woman from the accident, and it weighed heavier upon him when he realized he might not have saved her otherwise. Because of his fear, he had continued to lie to the ballerina. The last thing he wanted was to make her think he regretted pulling her from the wreckage, and she would if she knew the motives behind his actions.

Kagome had argued with him all week, begging him to just admit the truth. He couldn't. He didn't want to explain what had prompted him to act, or discuss how he felt about it now. Conversations like that were awkward, uncomfortable, and exposed the soul; he wasn't ready to let down his carefully crafted walls — at least, not all of them. So, he had told her that they were not the same man, which was partly true. He wasn't the depressed individual anymore, nor was he the driven medical student who loved triage. Inuyasha was somewhere in between and completely confused.

"Kagome," he whispered into her hair. "Wake up." He closed his eyes, savoring her proximity. He loved holding her, kissing her, touching her … She had such a soothing effect.

"Hmmm?" Her tired question hummed across her pink lips.

"We should be getting back. I have to work tonight." His hands toyed with the ends of her hair as he fought the urge to explore the lines of her back and the contours of her hips. Already, he could feel the heat of desire rising until a gentle voice in the back of his mind whispered, _'Kiss her, touch her, make her yours.'_

Kagome's eyes cracked opened. Her chin lifted to rest on his sternum. "What time is it?" she murmured drowsily.

"Around nine I think." He lifted his head until he was able to kiss her gingerly on the lips, giving in at least to the first demand on his mental list. The ball of heat in the pit of his stomach flamed hotter, and he knew he had to stop before one kiss became two, then three, then so much more. He pulled away with a sigh.

"I didn't practice as much as I should have." Kagome sat up and kicked her legs over the side of the lounging deck chair in the pool room. She stretched her arms above her head. She blinked, fighting the grogginess.

"We'll come back again tomorrow, Kagome." They had come to Jaku everyday after classes and her rehearsals at the studio for the last week. He wanted to give her every opportunity to succeed.

Kagome stretched again, and then stood up. She pulled the cotton robe closed over her bathing suit. "I'm going to change."

Inuyasha watched her retreating form. Her bare feet shuffled as she walked instead of her usually light, graceful steps. Kagome was worn out, and it worried him. He fought the urge to protect her, to make her take it easy, but knew she wouldn't stand for it. Kagome's passion for dancing drove her as his passion for medicine had once driven him.

When she disappeared behind the sliding door of the spare room, he closed his eyes. The woman was bewitching, and he would need these few minutes apart to calm his raging hormones. He lifted his arms to form a pillow behind his head. The tranquil effects of the pool's waterfall helped his mind drift away from the dancer and instead find the place between sleep and awake. He remained there, remembering his childhood in this home, and wondering if he would call Jaku home again in the future. With Kagome, the idea had merit, but he bristled at the thought the very moment it had crossed his mind. He growled. _'Great, another woman to haunt my dreams when I screw this up.'_

What would she think of him if she knew the conflicts that raged within? Avoidance was easier than discovering the answer. She could never know that he had saved her life, that she was right. The truth could potentially tear them apart and his heart would not survive losing her too. He needed her; the truth had been found within a kiss.

———

Inutaisho Takahashi sat at the dining room table. He hoisted a cup of tea in his left hand while the other rifled through business reports. This room had always been quiet at mealtime, so the fact that he ate alone did not faze the former fighter. His oldest son had recently wed and had purchased his own grand residence before his nuptials. And his youngest, Inuyasha, hated him, not that the businessman blamed him.

Truth was a tricky thing. What a person knew and believed as truth changed with the addition of knowledge. Inutaisho believed he had done right by both his children while they were growing up, but only in the last few years had he come to realize his mistakes. Sesshomaru was cold and unmoved by the warmth of the human spirit. His wife, Rin, didn't seem to notice the faults the father did, but then Rin was the only living creature he had ever seen his son emotionally react to. She was his blessing, and he hoped she could cure his son's callous facade.

And Inuyasha — he had so much potential that it felt like a knife to the gut when Inutaisho thought of him. His son had worked hard to not only become a doctor but to be a top fighter. He wondered how much of what Inuyasha did was to please his father, but there was no mistaking his son's resentment when his daughter-in-law died tragically. Her death had killed his son, and it was only when his son had fallen to pieces that Inutaisho realized that Inuyasha's pain was in part his fault. He had driven him to the breaking point, pushed when he should have pulled, and ultimately, Inuyasha had tried to kill himself. His youngest was his greatest treasure, and he hadn't even realized it until the boy had disappeared.

The regrets of life weighed his mind daily, although from the exterior one would not notice the burdens. Inutaisho was as collected now as he had been thirty years prior. The only glimpse of his vulnerability was a standing order to bring any and all information about Inuyasha to him immediately. Everyone who worked for him knew the boy was his greatest weakness.

He sipped his tea and set the china back in its saucer. He continued to peruse the documents, ignoring the presence he now felt hovering behind him for indeterminable moments. "What is it, Myoga?" He didn't even glance at the short, round man who had served him for longer than his sons had lived.

"Forgive the interruption, Takahashi-sama, but the security company sent over a print out I thought you'd want to see." He cleared his throat nervously, and rang the paper with his hands.

Inutaisho sighed and shuffled his papers. He took his time to put them into an orderly stack and then secured them in a folder. It was only when the process was finished that he held his hand out to the side. "What do you have to show me, Myoga?"

The man bounced forward and put the folded parchment in his employer's palm. "There seems to be an anomaly with the security system at Jaku."

The businessman didn't respond to the observation. He scanned the print out, noting the access code for the past few months, and then the codes entered in the past week. "A different code. Interesting," he finally said.

"Yes, Takahashi-sama." Myoga placed another piece of parchment in front of his employer. "I took the liberty to pull the codes for the estate for you, Sir. It seems the codes ending in 0 are for cleaning staff. However, this one —" His plump finger poked the first print out. "— That is one of the codes assigned to family members. Specifically, master Inuyasha's code."

For the first time, Inutaisho looked at his companion. "Are you telling me that he's been at Jaku?"

"I cannot say for certain, Sir, but it is his code, and the access appears to have been in the last week only. Shall I have someone watch the house?"

Inutaisho averted his gaze, pondering the question. He desperately wanted to see his son, but was hesitant. The last thing he wanted to do was spook him when he was finally returning to familiar places. "Yes, have the house watched, Myoga, but I do not want anyone to approach him if it is Inuyasha. Just follow him and bring me the reports when you have something."

"As you wish, Takahashi-sama." Myoga bowed and slipped out of the dining room.

When he was alone once more, a relieved smile formed at the edges of Inutaisho's lips. In nineteen months, it was his first glimmer of hope that his son was alive.

———


	18. The Shadow of Doubt

_For Sassy. _

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_Thanks to Ai Kisugi and Karaumea for serving as my lovely betas and helping me hack my prose to death. All writers need good editors and I have two of the best writers/editors on my side. _

_Content warning for this chapter for topic and Yash's foul mouth — rating remains, and will remain T through its conclusion.  
_

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Eighteen: The Shadow of Doubt**

'_I'm not him,' _he had told her.

Three little words echoed in Kagome's mind. She lifted up her cup of tea, sipped the steaming liquid gingerly, replaced it on the table, and then the words resounded. '_I'm not him.'_ The emotions those words provoked — frustration, uncertainty, doubt — were maddening.

She could remember his cadence, the very expression that shadowed his handsome features every time the words made her doubt. The twin suns of Inuyasha's eyes had pleaded for her to heed his words, to take them to heart and know them as lips had been turned down, but not in anger. The curvature of his mouth had echoed the helplessness radiating from his form as she had continued to insist that she knew it was him. But his words had become the veils in the way of truth, in the way of light, and too thick to even let a speck of light shine through.

When he had kissed her cheek after fighting Bankotsu at the club, the sense of déjà vu had overwhelmed her. She had toyed with the reaction, asking why she would feel the way she did, and then the moment of clarity had hit her like an anvil out of the sky. Yash Narita had saved her life. It was the reason he felt so familiar, as if he was already a part of her life long before she knew his name.

She had pondered the best way to confront him about it, but then the opportunity arose leaving her with an effortless decision to claim him as her savior. He denied it venomously, even after she had kissed him senseless and pleaded that he could tell her the truth. There was uneasiness about him now, as if another wall had risen to stand between them just as others had fallen. He had relaxed to her touch, her kisses and her embrace.

Kagome relished the evenings after her workouts and before he had to work. She would lay in his arms, half asleep or quietly talking. Sometimes, he would kiss her lips and tuck her closer. While others, it felt like he was holding on to her for dear life, particularly when their kissing turned to heated make-out sessions that left her wanting more. He held the power over her that she believed no man ever would, and so his words were finally met with acceptance.

'_I'm not him.'_

'_Did it matter?'_ she wondered. No. It didn't matter if he had saved her or not. Her heart still skipped beats while in his presences. Her stomach still flipped at the sight of him. Her breath still faltered when he leaned in to taste her mouth with his. He had become her axis, and she had no choice but to let her life revolve around him.

But if Yash was not her knight, the samurai who had so gallantly saved the lady-fair, it meant she would keep searching for her hero. There was no romantic attachment to her rescuer, not so long as she had Yash, but she did want to thank the man who had pulled her from the wreckage. He deserved to know her thanks and what it meant. His actions had changed her world, gave her clarity in some areas and muddled others.

It was all confusing.

She picked up her teacup and sipped again from the hot beverage. Sango was late meeting her. They had made plans to connect for a late lunch. Both women had been busy with school, their chosen athletics and their men lately. It left little time for girl talk and to unwind from the stresses of life. Kagome needed Sango to play diplomat, to help settle the war raging in the dancer's mind.

'_Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear,'_ Kagome thought wryly as Sango came rushing into the café. The fighter's cheeks were stained pink as she panted for air. She was dressed in jeans and a lady's t-shirt; her gym bag was slung over her shoulder, forcing her to hunch slightly.

Sango dropped the bag by the table and slumped into one of the chairs across from her best friend. "Sorry I'm late, Kagome," she managed, her chest still heaving. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Just a few minutes," Kagome assured. Although, truth be told, she had been waiting long enough to finish two cups of tea and move on to her third. "Are you all right? You look flustered."

Sango let out several sharp, heavy breaths, trying to regulate her breathing. She forced a smile as the waitress poured her a cup of tea and left two menus for the women. "Thank you," she told the old woman, before returning her attention to her best friend. "And no, I'm not all right, Kags." She took a sip of tea and then set it down rather hard, letting her frustration ebb through. "I'm just — Oh, I don't know …"

Sensing the girl's agitation, Kagome took a depth breath. Ever since Kagome met Yash, she hadn't exactly been there for Sango, and yet, the fighter had still sat with her and let her cry after the first time he had kissed her. Kagome had been in agony, unsure of what to do about him. She adored him; he kissed her; and then called her Kikyo. It had been gut-wrenching, and yet her friend had been there to help her decide what she needed to do. What she had needed was to stay by his side, even as a friend. However, with her schedule and now her foundling relationship with the bouncer, Sango had suffered.

"Sango, what's wrong?" As hungry as she was, Kagome opted to leave the menus on the table while she gave her friend her undivided attention. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the laminated pages.

"It's Kohaku. I — I just don't know what to do anymore." The fighter dropped her head into her hand, kneading her brow with her palm. When she had finished massaging away the stress lines, she let out a puff of air that blew her bangs skyward.

Kagome leaned in, slightly alarmed. It was unusual for Sango to be so upset about her younger sibling. He was a quiet, sensitive boy, and he was also a talented fighter like his sister. Which meant … a sense of dread filled her. "Did something happen to him? Is he all right?" Her voice cracked.

"He's fine, Kagome," Sango responded quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you. He was kicked out of another judo club for using illegal strikes."

"What?" Kagome could hardly believe what she heard. She had practically grown up with Sango, which meant her brother had been a permanent resident as well since he and Sango were so close. Talented and sweet — those were the adjectives that described the boy, aside from quiet and shy. "But he's — why would he do that?"

Sango slumped into her chair and propped her chin up on her hand in defeat. It was as if the weight of the world held her beneath its tonnage. The lines of her brow and the dark crescents beneath her eyes were just the outside symbols of her stress. "I think he's upset with me," she said solemnly.

The fighter threw her body back into her chair and slid down so that her shoulders were resting half-way down the chair's backrest. "And, I think he's frustrated with fighting. The sensei at the club — and the three before that — they aren't like my old teacher. All they think about is pushing their students through the tournaments and winning at all cost." She shook her head in dismay.

Sango picked up one of the menus, half-heartedly scanning its contents. "He's a talented fighter, but there are better fighters out there. They've just pushed him so far that he now thinks he has to do anything, even illegal moves, in order to win." She heaved a sigh, letting the escaping air hiss across her lips. "And it's only gotten worse since Miroku proposed to me."

Kagome choked on her tea, nearly spraying the hot beverage across the table and through her nose as she sputtered and coughed. Her eyes widened. "Miroku what?" she practically shouted in a cross between shock and excitement. "When?" she demanded posthaste, not leaving her best friend any room to answer between the questions.

Once Kagome had calmed down, Sango answered the barrage. "He proposed last week. It was completely unexpected — what with him still in medical school and I still have another year at TU." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped her ponytail. "He asked me to move in with him as well at the end of the semester." She shrugged. "I haven't decided."

The girl talk paused when the waitress reappeared. They quickly spouted off their requests of yakisoba for Sango and oden for Kagome before relinquishing the menus to their bowing hostess.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Kags. I left you a message on your cell but …," Sango's voice trailed off.

Kagome was all too aware of the 'but.' She had been working herself half to death, and when she wasn't in class, at the studio, in the pool or studying, she and Yash had been getting hot and heavy on the couch at _Seven_ — or in the pool room at Jaku or at his apartment. Each time, the length of their make-out sessions grew exponentially with the passion behind each kiss. Granted, nothing had happened aside from long hours of heated exchange, but she wondered how much longer either of them would hold. He seemed to fair better than she. He always broke it off before things went too far, and Kagome couldn't decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

There had also been other interruptions by the names of Bankotsu and Jakotsu, both of whom insisted on teasing Yash. He had finally snapped and punched Bankotsu. The club owner had only rubbed his jaw, laughed and reminded Yash that they were overdue for a sparring match.

And then finally, there was the fact that Kagome's phone blew up like a walking dateline — it was the most aggravating of their interruptions. She had finally opted to keep it turned off and periodically check messages. Very few people outside of her family and Sango called her anyway. She now felt guilty over missing Sango's call. It was important, and she had missed it. Kagome should have been there to share in her best friend and Miroku's joy. He was as dear to her as the woman sitting across from her.

"I'm sorry, Sango. I've had the phone off because of the ad." Kagome practically pouted in the midst of her overwhelming frustrations. She hated missing the key moments in life, because if you missed those, then what was the point of living?

Sango finally relaxed in her seat. "Don't worry about it, Kagome. We're both busy — too busy. Besides, in a few weeks, all this hard work will be worth it when you make those stuffy snobs at the school regret kicking you out of the classical dance program." The fighter scoffed, clearly still indignant on her friend's behalf. "How is all that going anyway?"

Kagome waited to answer as their food was served. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of the oden and once more when she caught a whiff of the homey aroma. "It's fine. Lady Kaede lets me use the private studio since the rest are booked. It's really nice there and she lets me stay as late as I want — but that probably is because of Yash."

Sango swallowed the bite of her food she was chewing. "Why would Yash make a difference? — I know you said he arranged it …" She took another bite.

"She's his sister or sister-in-law or something. They both avoid discussions of family, but they are both Naritas and related," Kagome responded easily. She was curious about their relationship, but both parties had changed the subject almost immediately when she had asked directly.

"Wait, did you say Narita?" Sango continued to eat. Kagome nodded her head 'yes,' while in the midst of devouring her meal. "Wow, I didn't realize that he was one of _those_ Naritas."

Kagome swallowed and set down her chopsticks. Her tongue peeked out between her lips to swipe the excess moisture from her lower one. "_Those_ Naritas?" she asked. Her doe eyes blinked innocently with her curiosity.

"Hmm," Sango started. "My father — well you know he's the head of security for Takahashi Industries. He handles all the board members' security, including Eito Narita. I don't remember his children's names, but I know that Hachioji Studio is owned by the same family." She sipped her tea. "They are a very well-known, well-off and powerful family. In fact, one of the daughters married —" She snapped her fingers, trying to recall the youngest Takahashi's name, but it still eluded her. "— Dr. Takahashi's younger brother — the arrogant, fighter guy."

"Oh," Kagome said softly and then giggled. "You really are horrible with names, Sango."

"Well, it isn't as if I actually know these people, Kags — just heard of them." She shrugged. "Besides, I have more important things to worry about — like Kohaku for example."

Kagome returned to eating, letting a comfortable silence pass between them for a few minutes, before she continued their conversation. "Sango, what are you going to do about Kohaku?"

"He wants to continue fighting, but I'm not sure I can find him another club after this one. He claims he loves it — but I wish — I wish I could find him a sensei who didn't view it as a trophy sport. Judo, the martial arts, is about discipline. It's a frame of mind, a way of life — not what these clubs have twisted it into."

Kagome paused in her consumption, offset by Sango's analysis. She had heard the same sentiment out of Yash when she first saw him fighting Bankotsu. He had been wonderful to watch, like a movie where the action was too good to be true.

She licked her lips at the thought of the bouncer, wondering if she could persuade him to teach Kohaku the proper way to fight. Outside of her and the club, he didn't do much else. He lived a quiet, low-key existence. Hell, he even chose to live in a rat-hole apartment complete with spiders and dust-mites instead of at Jaku — a roomy paradise.

"Yash used to fight," she began. "Judo, mostly, I think, but I've seen him spar with a friend of his." She shoved away her bowl. "He's really good, Sango, and he shares your thoughts about fighting with honor. He stopped competing, actually, because he got tired of the win-at-all-cost attitude. If you'd like, I could ask him if he'd work with Kohaku."

"I don't know," Sango countered a bit hesitantly.

"Despite his rough exterior, he really is a good guy," the dancer defended her boyfriend. "Besides, if you thought otherwise, you'd have already challenged him and kicked his backside from here to Kyoto." She giggled at the images brewing in her mind. Yash would give the female fighter a run for her money, but Sango was a scary sight when angry.

The fighter sighed in defeat. "Would he be willing to work with my brother? You think he could actually break some of the bad habits he's learned without turning my brother into a course, rude ass …"

Kagome's eyes narrowed. "Sango, please don't speak like that about him. I know it's true, but — he does mean a lot to me, and I think he would work with Kohaku, if I asked."

Sango arched a single, well-kept brow. "If you asked? Have you and he had …" She leaned forward to whisper. "Sex?" After all, why else would a guy do something for a girl? Not all men were caring individuals, capable of selfless acts. Even Miroku was a lecher on the best of days.

The younger woman's breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed crimson as a wave of heat rushed through her body. "No," she hissed through clenched teeth. "But we are — um — _close_."

"Close as in _close_?"

The dancer chewed her bottom lip anxiously. "Sango, this really isn't the place to discuss _it_." If they were in private, she would answer the questions — albeit her cheeks would still be flaming red — but having her personal life probed in public … Kagome wanted to die of embarrassment.

The fighter, who had always been bold, understood Kagome's point, but such topics could not be broached when the girls hardly saw each other. "All right, then let me ask you something appropriate," she prefaced. "Do you _love_ your bouncer bad boy? Is he the _one_?"

The dancer could hardly breathe at the thought. Oh, the things he did to her with just one look. She melted into a puddle at just the thought of his golden eyes locking onto hers and then examining the length of her body before returning to her earth-toned orbs. "We've progressed past friends. We've been _close_, but not that _close_." She veiled her thoughts with public-appropriate euphemisms. "And I think — I think he's the one, Sango." She smiled, despite herself. "Kami, I love him, but I'm also confused."

"About?" Sango prompted. It was her turn to be a good friend and listen to the woes of the dancer's life.

"I — I remembered something from the accident, and the memory was so strong, I honestly believed — and still believe — that he was the one who saved me." She frowned. "He denies it of course."

"Of course," the older woman echoed sardonically. "But, Kags, think about it. The person who did that to you — put a pen in your throat — had to have some kind of medical background. I seriously doubt a foul-mouthed bouncer, even one connected to the Narita family, is capable of such a feat."

"That's what he said …" She placed her elbows on the table and slumped until her chin rested in the palms of her hands. "But still …" She couldn't help but wonder.

"But nothing, Kags," Sango interrupted. "Just let him go and enjoy your bad boy while you have him. You know that I think your obsession with finding the guy is unhealthy. You'll miss out on the present if you keep dwelling in the past."

"Too true," Kagome agreed, but she knew she couldn't and wouldn't let it go. She needed to find him and thank him as much as she needed air to breathe. She leaned back in her chair. "So, I'll ask Yash about Kohaku and give you a call tomorrow. And, will you tell Miroku congratulations — assuming you did say 'yes.'" The notion made her smile, despite her turbulent thoughts about Yash and the guy who saved her.

Sango's stern face brightened into a happier façade. "I will, but promise me, you'll take a day off and come to dinner with us to celebrate everything. I've missed you, Kagome."

"I promise." The dancer emphasized each word, engraining them in herself as much as to assure Sango. Kagome felt guilty about the new course of her life, but somehow she knew it would all lead to something better — if only she could make it through the present.

——

The yellow glow of electric lanterns illuminated Jaku's long driveway. The thick, rich scents of pollen filled the evening air. The endless cry of crickets echoed throughout the forest-like area and the manicured sections of the gardens. Jaku, the oasis, the place of dreams — Inuyasha's mother had told him once. He had loved this place for many reasons, but none so much as Izayoi, then Kikyo and now ….

He turned from locking the front door to catch a glimpse of the woman who had invaded his life. Her back was to him; her eyes fixated upon the gems of the night sky. He could not see the creamy flesh of her neck through the dark waves of hair shimmering past her shoulders, but he knew it curved perfectly into the smooth plains of her shoulders and back. He had traced them with his hands and kissed those lines a thousand times in the days since they had been coming here. Her torso was covered by a pink leotard and from her hips hung a black cotton wrap skirt just short enough to give him a splendid view of her long, muscular legs.

Inuyasha bit his lip. '_Damn_,' she was sexy and not just in body. The more he got to know her heart and mind, the stronger his cravings to explore the silky skin beneath her clothes became. On many occasions, he had caught himself fantasizing about the woman, about peeling off that dance attire and memorizing …

'_Damn.'_ He bit his lip harder, on the verge of drawing blood. His wanton thoughts were getting the best of him, and he found them to be slightly alarming. Did he dare get that close to any woman again? He hadn't even fully healed from losing the last one, and he knew there would be no coming back if he allowed himself to cross those invisible lines, now blurred by the hormonal drive that forced him forward. Despite his fears, despite the guilt, he just couldn't keep his hands to himself. He had fallen hard, and logic flew out the window when Kagome was near.

Inuyasha came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. The palm of one hand rested flat against her toned abdomen; the other brushed aside her black tresses. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and pulled her flush with his body. His lips tasted her scars. His hot breath sent chills through her form, and she shivered pleasantly in his embrace.

"Hmmm," she hummed with pleasure. "You do remember you are late for work?" she reminded. "And if you keep kissing me like that, I may not let you stop."

She turned her head, and his mouth sought out hers. His tongue caressed her lower lip before slipping into the warmth of her mouth. He groaned with pleasure and deepened it by tilting his head a fraction. The hand splaying across her stomach slid down over the curve of her hip bone. There was power in that hand, conveyed in its ache to never let her go. It stopped past the swath of fabric when the rougher texture of his palm met her smooth flesh. He bent his wrist, bringing his palm to the inside of her thigh and then moved it up beneath her skirt. His hands massaged the higher muscles, but stayed an appropriate distance from the apex of her lower limbs.

He broke off the kiss when he could no longer fight his need to breathe. His heavy exhalations lent to husky words. "You really should make me stop," he murmured against her lips.

"Maybe I don't want you to," she whispered back. Her eyes glowed in the low light like the stars above. Only her eyes weren't cold specks in an endless black, they blazed with all-consuming passion brighter even than Sol.

"Fuck," he swore and let out a whimper. He couldn't take much more before he broke and took complete solace within their burning desires. He just wasn't ready to take that last step, to know her in the way he had known only one other woman before.

Kagome spun to face him, dislodging the hand groping at her thigh. Her arms encircled his neck before their mouths meshed together in another heated connection. Kami, she was burning him alive, and he felt the need to move. He reached down, grabbing her rear and picking her up. Her legs wrapped around his torso as he walked them over to his motorcycle. He set her on the machine, which left his hands free to explore the curves of her body and the lines of her back. He broke off the kiss, desperate to taste the sweet flesh of her throat and her shoulder once more. He sucked, nipped and kissed in order — sometimes feather light, other times conveying his need.

"Inuyasha," she said softly. Her head tossed about, clearly enjoying his assault. "Can I ask you something?"

"Keh," came the non-committal response between perfectly placed kisses. His back arched forward, pressing his body firmly against hers.

"Remember I told you Sango was a fighter." Her words were broke with tiny gasps that only turned him on more.

"Keh." He pulled away, soaking in her lust-filled expression. He smirked and then repeated the same methodical attentions to the other side of her body. He reined himself in, careful not to leave bruises on the sensitive skin. Kami, did he want to lose control. He slid a hand up her stomach, stopping just bellow her breast. He had been trying to avoid touching such areas, too afraid he'd completely abandon all reason if he did. His fingers kneaded along her rib cage. Kagome let out a whimper of disappointment, but he paid it no heed as he continued to explore her perfect frame through the annoying fabric.

The dancer bit her lip and tossed her head back, granting him better access. "Her brother got kicked out of his judo club," she continued slowly as her mind flitted between coherent thoughts and the ecstasy he had her swimming in.

This time, he didn't bother with a response. Her writhing body held his complete attention.

"I thought, maybe —" she gasped in surprise when his hand finally flitted over the mound of her chest only to trail up the side of her throat and then cup the back of her head.

He loved that sound; he wanted her like a junky needed a fix. "Maybe?" he asked between gentle pecks heading south across the exposed regions of her upper chest.

"Maybe you could teach him," she finished.

Inuyasha jerked back, releasing his hold on the dancer to look her in the eyes. "Teach who what?" he shot. He felt slightly bad that he had been paying only half-attention to their conversation. But, hell, if he didn't have a measure of self control they would have already been back inside Jaku — in the spare room — and then there wouldn't be any room for talking. He pursed his lips in annoyance when she rolled her eyes.

"Teach Kohaku, Sango's brother, judo." She spoke plainly; there was no missing her intentions.

"Shit, Kagome," he swore and stepped back from her completely. He ran a hand through his unruly bangs. Talking about judo was definitely a way to kill the mood. "Why are you asking me this?"

She heaved a sigh and kicked one leg over the bike so that she was straddling it, but she kept her attention on her boyfriend. "Because I've seen you fight and I thought you could help —"

"No," he cut her off. He crossed his arms and fixed a glare upon his face.

"No?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Just 'no'?"

He huffed. "Keh. What did you think I'd say — 'yes,' 'maybe,' 'I'll think about it.'" He growled. "I don't fight anymore, Kagome, and I sure as hell don't teach."

It was Kagome's turn to glare, but the look was short lived as it transformed into a rueful expression. She lifted the leg that she had kicked over the bike's side and drew it up slowly until her foot rested on his seat. "Please." Her eyelashes fluttered.

Inuyasha gulped and silently swore. His innocent little Kagome was not so naïve at the moment. The way she sat left him with a perfect view up her skirt and the white succulent flesh of her inner thighs. _'Damn her.'_ He gulped, unable to tear his eyes away. "You're going to be the death of me, woman," he said crossly.

Finally breaking her mystical hold on him, he stepped toward her and pulled her flush against him to hide the valley of temptation. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Would you settle for an 'I'll think about it?'" His question was answered by a brilliant smile. His own lips twitched upward in the wake of her infectious happiness.

"Home or …" he began again, but the sound of shifting gravel caught his attention. The smile vanished from his face as he looked around. His eyes squinted in the darkness, seeking out the source of his alarm.

"Inuyasha?" she cupped his chin to bring his attention back to her. "Are you all right?"

He nodded 'yes,' reassuring the beauty before him just after with a peck on the lips. "Home or do you want to come to the club with me?" he finished what he had originally started to ask. The nagging feeling that they weren't alone hovered just behind the forethoughts of Kagome.

"Home tonight, I guess." She pouted, disappointed by her choice. "I need to study."

"Keh." He reached into his bags and pulled out the bike jacket she usually wore. He situated it around her shoulders and then helped her with the helmet. To his amusement, she always had problems with the chin strap. Once she was settled comfortably on the back of his bike, he pulled on the other leather jacket and helmet before taking position in front of her. Her arms around his chest settled his nerves immensely, but even as he started the motorcycle, he couldn't help but scan the terrain one last time — someone else was there, watching them, and he didn't believe it was just paranoia.

———

_Author's Note: _

_**Recommended Reading:**__ Be sure to check out stories from my betas, Ai Kisugi and Karaumea if you're eighteen or older: 'A Grudging Loss' by Ai and 'Heartless' by Karaumea, and, elsewhere check out their joint venture, 'He's My Girl.' These are mature-themed stories, but excellent writing. The first two stories have also been nominated for this quarters IYFG. So, if you're a member (and of age), check them out there as well. (All on my favorite list on fan fiction(dot)net)  
_

_**Editing: **__I've also just spent the better part of a week rereading the entire story of PW to catch typos missed in the first read-through and post before I had two betas to help me check for flaws. Even the best writers need good editors – no one is perfect – which is why I'm grateful for my two wonderful betas. Some chapters have additions, but nothing significant that will confuse readers later in the story if you don't go back and read the changes._

_Chapter 19: Love is patient, father's aren't always …_


	19. Sins of the Father

_For Sassy. _

_A special thanks to my betas Ai Kisugi and Karaumea and to meine Mutti for being my medical dictionary on everything from gunshot wounds to tracheotomies._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_Additional notes below._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Nineteen: Sins of the Father**

Hands once steady now trembled as they flipped through a stack of gloss-print photos. The face in each image was familiar yet foreign. Who was this man who rode a motorcycle around Tokyo, carelessly weaving through traffic? Who was this man with black hair and golden eyes that heartlessly pinned a man to the concrete in front of a club? The face before him resembled one of the people most precious in his life, and yet Inutaisho couldn't help the feeling that he did not know this man. Gone was the smile, the carefree air of youth. In its place was a man worn by the realities of life, angry — it seemed — and old far too soon.

There was an exception to this miserable creature that his men had photographed over the last week, and it could be found in a series of shots near the bottom of the stack. A woman — who upon first glance Inutaisho had mistaken for his deceased daughter-in-law — held his youngest son's hand. Her presence softened the scowl on his face to a wisp of a smile. This stranger gentled him with her grace as she led him away from the last place Inutaisho thought his son would ever go: Hachioji Studio.

The woman was a dancer. Her lean lines were typical of performers of the art form, and in almost all of the photographs, she wore some type of loose, cotton material that would allow her to move freely in her craft. Her raven hair was braided or flowing down her back in gentle waves, depending the day and photograph. 'Beauty' easily defined the female but flawless did not. She wore scars on her throat and ankle and never showed an ounce of shame when his son stroked his fingers across the uneven flesh. In each image of the pair, Inuyasha's golden eyes never left the deeper pools of her dark orbs that could be described as gentle, or kind or _'loving?'_

Inutaisho growled when he flipped to the last photo. His son and the strange girl were kissing passionately in the driveway at Jaku. The woman sat on his motorcycle while the young man's lips explored the exposed areas of her upper body. The image was enough to make the older man blush but only until he recalled his concerns.

His youngest son always had been gruff, arrogant and hardly even-tempered. His temperament often kept many at bay, but the boy's wife had soothed his child's frustrated soul. She had broken through his defenses, as the new woman also clearly had. What troubled him, however, was that once Inuyasha loved, that love ran deep. He did not easily let go of those who matter most, and when he lost someone, Inutaisho could attest to the emotional scars the loss left. The young man had tried to end his life just to join Kikyo in the afterlife. So, was this new woman the source of the light in his son's eyes or was she the substitute, the vice helping him cope with the anguish? Could she heal his heart?

In frustration, Inutaisho tossed the heavy-print papers across his desk. The pile slid across the smooth surface and several fluttered off the edge and floated to rest on the carpeted floor. He closed his eyes, once more examining every angle of possibility concerning his youngest child. Should he go to the boy's apartment and speak to him? Should he force him home and have him treated for the depression he had been under when last they met? Or, should he wait it out patiently in the hopes that time would heal Inuyasha's wounds where he could not? He heaved a sigh. As a parent, one of those choices screamed at him, but logically, he didn't believe dragging Inuyasha home would solve any of the boy's problems.

"Kikyo?" a cool voice questioned. He snorted a quiet scoff. "You were wise to voice your concerns on the union if the wench was cheating on him before she died."

Inutaisho cracked one eye and then slowly opened the other. He was so deep in thought he hadn't noticed the arrival of his eldest son. Sesshomaru stood just to the right of his desk. He clutched one of the photos in his hand, wrinkling and cracking the glossy surface of the print. His cold eyes and stoic expression reflected nothing of the inner workings of his mind, making him absolutely impossible to read when he was fighting, but it left much to be desired in the surgeon's bedside manner. As if his straight-forward dialogue wasn't enough to make anyone bristle …

"No," Inutaisho corrected. He shook his head to illustrate his word. "Those were taken a few nights ago at Jaku."

Sesshomaru lifted a single brow. "A woman who resembles Kikyo and this man were at Jaku?"

Inutaisho chuckled. "Look closer at the photo, Sess." He leaned forward and picked up one of the other prints of the dark-haired man. "Even I did not recognize him when Myoga first gave them to me."

"Hmm, what has the whelp done to himself?" Sesshomaru asked evenly.

The older gentleman shrugged. "I don't want to speculate. I know very little about the matter yet, and Myoga is still digging for information on her." He leaned back in his leather chair, letting the comfortable office seat recline at a forty-five-degree angle. He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. "He's using the Narita name, and I'm debating having the men bring him here." He sighed again and closed his eyes. The last thought still didn't feel like the best course of action. "He needs help. He …"

"He is ungrateful and spoiled, father." Sesshomaru tossed the image back on the desk and then gathered up the few others off the floor. He briefly examined them before throwing them down as well. "If he does not wish to live as a Takahashi and instead engaged in —" He waved his hand to indicate the photos. "— Dishonorable activities, then he should not be welcome here."

"He's grieving, Sesshomaru," Inutaisho countered, trying to keep his temper. He had given up years before trying to make his eldest son understand what it meant to love, to live for someone else. Sesshomaru took after his mother in his distant demeanor, often no more feeling than a machine. Inutaisho had seen a change in him since he had met and then married the happy, hyper but delightful Rin. His affections for the young woman, although well guarded, whispered that the surgeon had at least a small measure of compassion and love bound to his soul.

Had Inutaisho really been much better than his oldest son, though? There were regrets in his life that he could not erase, moments that made the holes in his heart ache with loss. He had placed walls around that vital organ, even with his sons, to cope with Izayoi's death, and it had become the only way he knew how to get from day-to-day for years. Now, in the aftermath of his son's tragedy, he struggled with a new way of thinking and tried to cope with the idea that his ways were not necessarily the right ones.

"Kami forbid something happen to Rin and you understand what it feels like to lose a wife," he whispered. His heart throbbed in remembrance of the loss of Izayoi. He had loved her more than life.

"Nothing shall happen to Rin," Sesshomaru said. He sat down in the chair across from his father's desk and eased back into the plush cushions. "I will not allow it."

Not even a full second later, Inutaisho was on his feet. His hands slapped his desk in anger, sending the photographs flying off the surface once more. "And I _allowed_ Izayoi to die? And Inuyasha _allowed_ Kikyo?" The elder Takahashi growled, lashing out more from his own pain than anything that his son had actually said. But, his Sesshomaru's arrogance was beyond maddening at times. "You are not a god, Sesshomaru," he seethed through clenched teeth. "Despite your skills as a surgeon, you do not control power to grant life or death, and it is arrogance to believe that even you could thwart the will of the gods and fate."

"I do not presume to have any such skill," the doctor countered. "But Rin is my life and I will protect her as such."

Inutaisho reclaimed his seat. His downcast eyes scanned the remaining photographs that hadn't scattered with his outburst. The images of his son were in stark contrast to the boy he remembered, and as a father, he hated seeing his child in pain. Having one so loved changed because of the harsh reality of life was gut wrenching, especially when all he had to do was glance at the candid shot in the frame at the corner of the desk to remember his son as he once was. In it, Inuyasha had not been more than four years old. Izayoi had taken him to the Cherry Blossom Festival alone because Inutaisho had been too busy with work. There was not a day since her death that he did not look at the photo and feel the regret of missed moments. He missed her, the way he missed his youngest now. If only he could heal Inuyasha's pain, then perhaps he wouldn't feel like a failure as a father.

"Izayoi was my life as well," Inutaisho finally said. He picked up the picture frame. His thumb skimmed the glass covering her face.

"She was not your life, father." The cold of Sesshomaru's voice froze the old man's reverie. He glared at the doctor. "Your life was your work and fighting. It was always so when Izayoi was alive, and as it was until Kikyo died. He is truly your son, repeating your mistakes."

"How dare you?" Inutaisho barked, interrupting his son. "You, Izayoi and Inuyasha have always been …"

"No, father, and you know that is not true." Sesshomaru's voice remained even, unfazed in the face of his father's temperament. "The very picture you hold is proof of what your work has done to your family. Instead of business meetings, you should have been in that photograph with Izayoi and Inuyasha. But, you were not, and until I met Rin I did not understand — Rin has taught me much in the short time I have known her. She _is_ life; she _is _mine, and I will never let anyone or anything take what is mine."

Inutaisho blinked in astonishment. Was his eldest son, the uncaring, stoic, iceman, truly lecturing him on the importance of family, albeit in his own unique fashion? He took a deep breath, reaccepting a truth he had toyed with since Inuyasha disappeared. He knew what he had done to his youngest child, what he drove the boy to do. It ate at the very backbone of his spirit until he felt broken and helpless to aid him. He had, for years, forced so much upon both of his sons that he had forgotten to teach them something equally important. Fortunately, Rin had taught Sesshomaru a value Inutaisho had only recently realized. But, what about Inuyasha? Could he show his son now that he was no longer the man he once was? Could he show his boy that what mattered to him most in the world was him, to see him completely happy?

"Izayoi _was_ my life," Inutaisho reiterated. He set the photograph aside and then picked up the image of Inuyasha and the girl on the motorcycle at Jaku. "I just didn't realize it until I had lost them both, and now, I do not know what I should do. It is my fault he's in …"

"No, father," Sesshomaru interrupted again. He stood up from the chair. "Your faults are your own, as Inuyasha's are his. You cannot blame yourself for what he has done. You have done so for far too long and spoiled him with your indulgences." The doctor picked up the pictures off the floor again. He thumbed through them one more time and then set them in front of his father; the picture of Inuyasha at the dance studio was on top. "If you truly wish to repair your relationship with him, perhaps you should start with Kaede Narita."

"And why is that?"

"Because, Kaede may have an idea on how to approach him." Sesshomaru smirked, for the first time breaking his stoic expression. "Good day, father, if you decided to have the men bring the whelp home, please let me know. I shall be sure to avoid Toride* until he's finished with the tantrum he'll throw if you force him back." He paused in the doorway. "I'll be in the dojo."

The door shut behind Sesshomaru, and for a moment, the elder Takahashi had to remember to breathe. How did he so profoundly underestimate the doctor? He had never, in his son's thirty years of life, heard him express any concern for another life, let alone admit to loving them. Granted, it was not the exact words Sesshomaru used, but the meaning was there. Being a doctor was never about saving lives for the surgeon, but being the best at whatever he did.

Still dissecting their conversation, Inutaisho began to wonder if he would ever know either of his sons. He had seen only what he wished and pushed for what he needed from his family. Sesshomaru had adjusted in spite of his demanding father. But, could Inuyasha? Inutaisho had only wanted Inuyasha to be happy again, to move on, and instead, he had pushed his son completely out of his life after Kikyo's death. He had followed his gut instincts then, and it had turned out to be a disaster. Perhaps this time, pausing to listen to reason instead of instinct was for the best.

He would speak to Kaede before he made any decisions.

———

Not only was the Takahashi family one of the richest in Japan, but the males were also some of the most recognizable with their platinum blond hair. The strands appeared gray to the casual eye, but upon closer observation, it was obvious they were not transparent and lacking in melanin. The hair was too lustrous and brilliant in its hue to be a symbol of age. The only downside to the family's trademark hair was that cameras easily spotted the high-profile members the moment they set foot outside the estates. However, it also had its advantages — such as with the receptionist manning the Hachioji Studio front desk.

Inutaisho had patiently waited for the talkative woman to get off the phone and assist him, but after five minutes, the woman had shown no sign of ending her gossip session. He had cleared his throat, but she had rotated the chair away from him without glancing up. She hadn't looked at him until he had reached over the counter ledge and pressed the button down to end her call. His finger had remained on the switch as she had spun back around, spewing a slew of profanity as she did. The businessman held his smile and counted the seconds until she recognized him; he made it to two before the receptionist's eyes had bugged out of her head. She dropped the phone and then ungracefully fell out of her chair, gasping his name in shock.

Within thirty seconds, he had received a profuse apology and Kaede's location, and now, he was walking down the main corridor on his way to the private studio that had once been his daughter-in-law's private sanctuary. The idiot at the front desk had amused him more than angered him. Her ungraceful spill had reminded him of the old American comedies that were more physically funny than verbally so, and she had served as a much needed source of relief from the tension stiffening the muscles in his shoulders. Strangely, it wasn't the first time he had received a reaction like the receptionist's. People just found him intimidating, although he couldn't fathom why.

Inutaisho slipped into the large studio adjacent to the private one and let the door close heavily behind him. The heavenly notes of piano music floated on the air, increasing in volume as he approached his destination. He slipped in the open door and paused there, leaning a shoulder against the door jam to watch Kaede dance.

His daughter-in-law had always been the star of the two sisters, but Kaede could have also danced professionally if she had wished. The younger woman was barely out of high school when Kikyo returned to Tokyo, and together they had opened Hachioji Studio. Unlike her sister, Kaede had been and still was content teaching the formal techniques of ballet. Kikyo had only run the studio because it was a means to an end. She was never content, never happy with her decision to give up her position in New York, and that had only added to the tension between the woman and his son. It had been nothing short of a tragedy to lose her, though. His heart still hurt for his friend's family, for his son and for the woman dancing before him.

Inutaisho waited patiently for the music to die and Kaede to stop dancing. Pieces of her hair had fallen out of her bun and framed her round face. Her eyelid stood at half-mast over the dark-brown eye not covered with the patch. She had lost it in the same accident that had killed her sister, serving as a constant reminder of that day. Still, even marred by the chaos of life, Kaede was beautiful. She was lean and toned from years of dancing, giving her a graceful and tall appearance when she walked. Her hair was unique for a Japanese woman in its brown tones, instead of black, and even more so with the hint of red when she was out in the sun. Unfortunately, most _boys_ only saw the black patch that hid the accident's damage. He hoped someday a _man_ would see her for the prize she was. He loved her like a daughter. He would never cease to be proud of the young woman. For that reason, he began to applaud when the music stopped at the closure of her routine.

"'Taisho, what are ye doing here?" Kaede's face glowed with happiness. A smile lifted the edges of her lips until a faint hint of white from her teeth could be seen.

"Just a social call," he said, leaving his place against the door to great the young woman. She met him halfway and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. He stiffened at her sudden embrace, always uneasy when she would push social boundaries and show physical affection. However, the Narita and Takahashi families had been close for many years and formality had flown out the window before she reached her second year of primary school. Nothing he did had ever deterred his 'daughter' from assaulting him with affection. With a sigh, he relaxed and returned her embrace. "We haven't spoken in awhile." He tightened his hold on her a bit more, squeezing her gently, before releasing her. "And, since you have not visited your father recently, he had no news for me either."

"Aye, but I have a studio to run," she pointed out with a laugh. "There are so many students now that I barely find time to dance, visit my father or socialize with _old_ men."

"_Old_, huh?" Inutaisho picked up on her teasing immediately. "I'm sure you're managing, though." Even when busy, Kaede never faltered under the pressure. She was poised and graceful, much like her sister, but with an added air of wisdom that surpassed her years. It was one of the many things he loved about her. "You should visit Eito soon. Fathers tend to miss their children, even more so when they leave home." He gestured to the couch. "Shall we sit?"

Kaede led the way as he followed her to the plush sofa occupying the far corner. "There is tea, if ye wish. I was waiting for someone, but she is late." Kaede laughed softly. "I suspect I know the cause of her tardiness."

"That would be lovely, Kaede," Inutaisho told her as he settled in. He draped an arm over the back of the furniture in an attempt to relax, but now that he was there, he found it hard to quell his paternal instincts again. He fought the urge to fidget to relieve some of his agitation. "So, who is this dancer that leaves you waiting?" he continued casually. The young entrepreneur was retrieving a tray from the smaller table in the corner, which a kettle and teacups rested upon.

"Her name is Kagome." Kaede set the tray on the coffee table and then poured the hot liquid into the smooth porcelain cups. "She is a student at Tokyo University, in the classical dance program. I've been helping her prepare for an audition." She served him.

"Thank you." He accepted her offering and leaned forward just enough to sit up straight so that he wouldn't spill the hot beverage. He waited for her to take her cup and sit down before he put the cup to his lips. He swallowed the hot liquid. "I thought they had studios at the university. Why would she need to come here?"

"I do not know all the details, only that she was in an accident, and it seemed training here was her last recourse to find a job as a dancer." Kaede sighed, her shoulders sagging upon exhalation, and then she set her cup down. "Ye know I've seen Inuyasha; it is why ye came?" Her lips pursed into a frown.

Inutaisho swallowed his tea before he too set the china aside. Not even when she was a little girl could pretense stand between them. Kaede always read him, and everyone else, as if they were open books. It had made surprising his friend's daughter quite difficult. "Myoga has been following him for the last week, since security noticed someone had been at Jaku." He leaned back into the couch again. "Why didn't you tell me he had come to you?" He couldn't hide the hurt in his voice that she had not called him, but he was no longer angry. This was Kaede, after all, and there would be a logical reason as to why she hadn't contacted him.

"I made a promise to Inuyasha, 'Taisho," she countered smoothly. She sat back into the corner of the couch and crossed her ankles. "Before the day he arrived with Kagome, I had not seen or heard from him since the accident. It was a great shock, but he was insistent that the girl, Kagome, train here."

"She is important to him, this Kagome?" he questioned. His brows knitted together, wrinkling the flesh of his forehead.

"Aye, she is important to him, although I am not privileged to know the extent of their connection. Kagome shares more than he, though." Kaede tossed her head to the side. "The girl believes his name is Narita, that he is my brother." She pursed her lips. "I did not correct the error since Inuyasha and I made a bargain."

"A bargain?" Inutaisho crossed his legs at the knee, forcing his body to relax when he felt the urge to demand information from Kaede. He grew tired of having to constantly question her. She was never forthright with information, revealing only just enough to answer the question without elaborating. However, as a successful businessman, he had learned the adage 'you get more with honey than with vinegar' was true. He would need to have patience and allow the conversation to take a natural course if he wanted a clearer image of the bigger picture. Besides, nothing that had happened was Kaede's fault. It was he who felt powerless to help his child, and that was definitely one of the worst emotions a parent could experience. He just wanted to make all the pain disappear and he couldn't.

"Kagome trains here at the studio, and when she is finished, he must call you." She picked up her tea again and drank slowly from the cup. "He was not pleased, adamant to avoid you, but he gave me his word. Ye should hear from him in a few weeks."

His son was going to call him. The thought made his mouth twitch into a smile, before another vagrant thought canceled the small measure of hope Kaede had given him. "And, if he doesn't call me?"

Kaede chuckled. "He knows better than to break a deal with me." She took another drink and then set it aside once more. "He knows I would call you if he does not cooperate and hold up his end of the deal. Kagome was generous to share with me where he works and enough information that I could tell ye where to find him."

Inutaisho remembered all too well the last time his son had broken a promise to the young woman. As a girl, she had always idolized the Takahashi boys, considering them her big brothers, and as a teen, she had only wanted to include them like she would any other sibling. Inuyasha had promised to attend one of her dance recitals, but instead of watching the teen's performance, he had sneaked away with Kikyo. Kaede, who was far from ignorant, noticed their absence. Disappointed that her 'brother' had not watched, the young woman had fallen into tears. However, her tears had only lasted a short while before vengeance got the better of her, and she had soundly paid Inuyasha back for breaking his promise at his next tournament by putting itching powder in his gi. His son had been furious over the incident, but had quickly shut up when Kaede had countered his ranting by telling him, 'then maybe you shouldn't break your promises.' He hadn't broken a promise to her since, and clearly, Kaede calling Inutaisho was up there with the itching powder incident on things the boy wished to avoid.

He closed his eyes, lowering his head. How could he make things right with Inuyasha when the boy didn't want to speak to him? "He hates me, doesn't he?" he asked solemnly.

"Nay, I think not," Kaede countered; her own reflections on the matter were evident in the gentle tone of her voice. "I think ye both need to speak, to clear the air, but ye cannot force him to do what needs to be done. He still aches for Kikyo." She brushed back a loose tendril of hair and smiled thoughtfully. Her gaze averted from his for a moment before she spoke, "Kagome is helping him, though, more than I dreamed possible. He is temperamental, brash as always, but she cares for him deeply. Not even sister Kikyo could silence him when he ran off at the mouth. Kagome can."

"He never was shy about speaking his mind, no matter how tactless the comment." Inutaisho rolled his eyes. Too many hours of his life had been spent repairing the damage his youngest son had caused in mere seconds because of his mouth and temper. "I have to confess, Kaede, that I have concerns about his relationship with the girl. Myoga brought me several _questionable_ images of the two of them together, and her resemblance to your sister only adds to my apprehension."

"It is true she resembles, Kikyo, but that and dancing are the only things they share," Kaede defended. Her lips pursed into a thin line. "Kagome, even with everything she has been through, is full of light, happiness and optimism. Ye cannot say the same for my departed sister, can ye?"

Inutaisho stifled a growl. "Well, no, but …"

"Nay, no buts. She is good for him, 'Taisho. I think she is what he needs, and he is what she needs." Kaede crossed her arms over the front of her leotard. "And if ye try to interfere, I'll tell Inuyasha ye were here and then ye can forget about him calling."

The businessman's head shook in surprise. Was this little dancer actually threatening him? No one else would dare, but his friend's daughter had him wrapped around her finger. He would do anything for Kaede, and it was probably for the best right now. His need as a parent told him to retrieve his son still, but if he listened to reason, he had no choice but to accept Kaede's words. Kagome was good for his son, or so Kaede claimed. The strange girl tempered him and was a source of happiness in Inuyasha's otherwise broken life. If what he truly wanted was for Inuyasha to be happy, then Inutaisho also had to accept the idea that someone else could succeed where he had failed.

"But what if she leaves him?" he whispered, more as a thought spoken aloud than as a true question. He lifted his chin, finding Kaede's gaze. "You said she is trying to find a job as a dancer? What if she finds a job and then leaves him? I cannot bear to see him …" His words trailed off, unable to complete the thought. If he loved her and lost her, would he survive the next time around or would he succeed in taking his own life?

"What if, 'Taisho? What if?" Kaede questioned him. "Ye love yer son. No one could deny it, but ye also have to let him live his life. Yer son almost died along with my sister in the midst of his grief. Do not cage him and give him anymore reason for unhappiness. Kagome makes him happy, as Kikyo once did, and it is not yer place to question it. Instead, ye …" Kaede stopped midsentence, looking toward the entryway.

Slightly confused, Inutaisho followed her line of sight and then looked back at the dancer. "Kaede?" The young woman held up a hand and stood up. The undeniable sound of footfalls reached his ears. Company was arriving, and their conversation was not one he would like to have in front of an audience. With a sigh, he resigned himself to be at peace with her words, trusting in Kaede to call him should his beloved son ever be in need. He stood, waiting for the newcomer.

The door opened and the woman that entered shocked him out of his wits. The pictures didn't prepare the businessman for how closely this creature resembled Kikyo. There were differences — subtle though they were — that on second glance revealed that they were not one and the same. This woman's hair was shorter. Her skin had a hint of color, a natural sun-kissed complexion that most Japanese women would hide behind powder, but not this woman. Her mouth curved naturally into a hint of a smile, instead of the perpetual frown that Kikyo had claimed in her stoicism. Her black hair shimmered in the natural light illuminating the studio through the windows. Her slender form curved in all the right places, and she walked as if she lived amongst the clouds. She was breathtakingly lovely.

"Takahashi-sama!" the newcomer crowed in surprise, which wasn't surprising to him considering he received that reaction daily. Her bag relinquished itself to the floor without her permission in the midst of her shock.

"Aye, Kagome. I wondered where ye got to. Did ye forget we were supposed to meet?" Kaede asked, trying not to laugh at the girl's clumsiness.

Kagome blinked in surprise as she stared at the other woman's companion. Her mouth fell open in a gape that only made Inutaisho smile and forget his earlier concerns. She swallowed hard and then tore her eyes from his. "I'm sorry, Kaede. I had a math test that I forgot about …" She bit her lip, displaying her uneasiness.

"Did ye pass?" Kaede asked, laughing softly as she approached the younger female.

"I —" Kagome stopped; her eyes flitted to look at the man. "I'm not sure. Math has always been one of my weakest subjects."

The older woman chuckled quietly. Kaede placed an arm around the girl's shoulders and led her toward the couch. "No matter. Taisho and I were just speaking." She squeezed Kagome's arm before releasing her from the embrace. "He is an old friend of the family's. Inutaisho Takahashi, this is Kagome Higurashi. Kagome, dear, this is Inutaisho Takahashi."

Inutaisho suppressed a smile when the girl bowed nervously. Her frame rattled with nerves, but he would not let on that he could see her distress. He inclined his head, showing her respect. "It is an honor, Higurashi-san. Kaede tells me you are a dear friend of Inuyasha's."

"Yes, Takahashi-sama. He is a dear friend," Kagome returned politely, parroting his words. Try as she might, she could not stop her hands from fidgeting with the hem of her wrap skirt. Her weight continuously shifted, unable to find equilibrium in his presence.

"How is that you know each other?" Inutaisho pushed, keeping a pleasant air while he fished for information. Hadn't Kaede said that this young woman was much more forthcoming than his son? "Did you attend TU with him?"

"TU?" Kagome gave him a puzzled expression. "I, um, actually didn't know he had attended the university. He — he doesn't like to discuss the past very much." She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "We actually only just met — two months ago, maybe. He saved me."

Inutaisho watched her expression change from one of nerves to one of reflection. Now she was adorned with a soft smile and euphoric expression; he could only surmise she was recalling the day she met his son. "He saved you?" he pried further.

His voice shook her out of her reverie. She blinked several times, and her hands returned to twisting at the cotton fabric covering her legs. "Yes, I was at the club he works at. A man was harassing me and Inuyasha …" Her voice trailed off and the silly-happy expression reappeared. "He saved me." She giggled. "He was such a pill about it, too."

"That sounds like Inuyasha." The boy was never one to let anyone thank him for anything, but heaven forbid anyone be ungrateful over his assistance. No, his son always did better with silence than gratitude. Emotional displays, other than anger, made him squirm like a worm on a hook.

Kagome laughed nervously but stopped playing with her skirt. She swallowed hard. "Takahashi-sama, may I ask how your son is doing?"

Inutaisho immediately stiffened. His eyes narrowed on the small woman who barely came up to his chest — although his imposing height meant most men only came to his shoulders. He was uncertain how to answer the question, especially since he was certain Kaede said she didn't know Inuyasha's identity. "Do you mean, Sesshomaru?"

"Yes, Doctor Takahashi," she clarified, seeking comfort from Kaede over the man's noticeable uneasiness over her question.

"How do you know, Sess?" He was full of questions today and still felt like he had received few answers to the long list still repeating in his head.

Kagome's head dropped as if shamed. She bit her lip once more. "He — he was my surgeon, Takahashi-sama, after my accident." Her voice choked.

'_Accident?'_ Yes, Kaede had mentioned an accident, but any accident that required his oldest to attend was never anything to consider minor. He wanted to ask the details but knew instead he should add it to the already annoyingly long list of others. He did not know her well enough to pry for specifics. "He is well, Higurashi-san, and still surprising his old man."

The tension running through the dancer's body visibly eased. "I'm glad to hear it. My friend told me he had returned to competitive fighting. She fights as well, and I occasionally go to her tournaments." The student finally relaxed enough to give him a genuine smile. "Perhaps I'll see you there sometime." She licked her lips again before returning her attention to the other woman. "Kaede, perhaps we can speak later. I do need to rehearse but I don't want to interrupt further." Her eyes flitted to the tea service.

"Nay, ye are no burden, Kagome," Kaede reassured. "Ye can warm up and begin if ye don't mind the audience. 'Taisho spent many hours out of his busy schedule when I was a girl watching me in recitals. I think he rather enjoys the arts."

"That I do," he confirmed. "Please, don't let my presence stop you." He extended an arm, gesturing to the couch. "Kaede and I will just finish our tea while you work."

Once Kaede had taken a seat, he retook his at the opposite end of the sofa. His amber-facet eyes never left the dark-haired woman gathering her bag and beginning her warm up. She was lovely and sweet upon first impression, but still, he wanted time to assess the young woman.

He picked up his teacup and sipped at its contents. He watched Kagome over the rim of his cup as she finished her warm up and went to start a CD on the stereo. He had half-expected some type of classical, orchestra rendition — even Mozart — but to his surprise, the music resounding through the studio speakers was a modern, rock-style ballet just 'emo' enough to allow her to dance to.

Kagome took position in the center of the studio, bowing her head in her first position. Her arms formed a graceful arch parallel to her chest. After several measures, the lyrics began and Kagome moved with it. Her arms rose above her head with the same speed as she lifted her head. She gestured with her arms several times before she started with her footwork. One leg lifted, making a series of fluid movements, and then she shifted weight to allow the opposite appendage equal time with the rhythm of the song.

He glanced at Kaede beside him. Her features were tight, and her brow furrowed in concentration. It was clear she was assessing the younger woman, but so far he hadn't seen anything brilliant or unusual about her. He returned his gaze to Kagome and took another sip of tea. The music picked up and her steps became faster with the tempo — and that was when he noticed _it_.

To say he was a dance aficionado would not be accurate, but he had spent many years watching his 'daughters' dance their hearts out. Kikyo's technique had been flawless. She never strayed from the choreographers design to give it a flare of her own. She had preferred order, and it was her technique that had ultimately earned her a spot at Julliard. She had become a prima when most women her age had dreamed of such a position from the back of the chorus line while they waved roses. Kikyo had been beautiful to watch, but never had she made him hold his breath the way he did now with Kagome.

Kagome's technique was perfect in many ways, but there were was a slight variance to the girl's step that made her stand out from any other dancer he had ever witnessed — and thanks to Kaede and Kikyo, he had seen a lot of dancers over the years. He leaned forward, mesmerized by the woman swirling before him, as he tried to discover the name of the thing that marked her as different.

The fabric of her skirt fanned out around her body as she executed a serious of turns that required her to release her center. Three times, she rose to point and allowed her head to fall to the side seconds before her body mass followed suit and she spun. The dancer's movement became even more pronounced as the singer's voice rose and the music began to build to climax. He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth as he observed every movement with bated breath. His brow furrowed in concentration in much the same way Kaede's was.

What was it about this Kagome? Kaede had been right. The fact that she danced and looked like his daughter-in-law was the only resemblance between the pair. But, not even the way she danced could be compared to the technically precise prima who seemed more machine-like than graceful. No, Kagome had … had … He caught sight of her face as the music died, and his answer was there. This woman had passion, and it fed into the very fiber of her being as she danced. Dancing wasn't a thing to her, it was life — he could see it shining in the joyful expression brightening her face.

Inutaisho smiled and then sat back in his seat, unsure of when he actually leaned forward. Kagome had made him take notice, even when he had wanted nothing more than to doubt she could help his son. She had mesmerized a complete stranger, and if she did that to him, he could only imagine what the girl was doing for Inuyasha.

To his surprise, Kagome practically shrieked in delight, and before he realized what was happening, Kaede had met the girl half way and was hugging her. He laughed again over the ballet mistress' failure to adhere to social norms, but otherwise remained silent as the two women spoke. Kagome's voice rose and fell in the midst of her excitement, although the cause for it eluded him, and Kaede seemed equally pleased over an 'accomplishment.' The cause, however, did not matter much to the businessman. It was the woman with a bright smile, with a passion for her art form and an affectionate air that held his attention. Watching her was like watching the sunrise, and finally — truly — he understood what Kaede had meant about the girl.

Sess and Kaede thought it was not for the best to drag Inuyasha home, and after meeting Kagome and seeing this, he knew he should follow their advice. Myoga could always keep watch.

———

_*Reminder: Toride means fortress and is the second and largest of the Takahashi estates. Although Sess lives elsewhere with Rin now, he still spends a great deal of time there in the dojo. His father is still his sensei._

_Dragon Ashes: I'm not sure I ever got back to you on the review reply, however I wanted to say thank you for the review and your assessment. Their actual first kiss was in the pool and was rather intense. But, I have to thank you for your thought because it prompted me to go back and look at the chapters since then. I found an issue that I have now fixed. I actually wrote the scenes for the last chapter a few weeks apart because of my schedule, and there was a discontinuity between the scenes regarding the kissing to make out thing. So, thank you, hopefully the edits have fixed the continuity issue on how they got from point a to point b so quickly._

_I know I didn't get back to everyone on the reviews, but I cannot remember who I missed. So, if you reviewed, thank you. I do appreciate it and I do try to get back to everyone._

_Also, my girl Sassy, upon reading the 'preview' of this chapter, was unsure if Kagome knew Inuyasha's name was, well, Inuyasha. He did tell her his name was Inuyasha, but it was a side comment in the chapter 'A Year Ago Today.' So, she knows the name, but like his friends – Bank and Jak – she calls him Yash since that's what he goes by. She always refers to him as Yash to Sango, etc., and in general conversation. She refers to him as Inuyasha here, because Inutaisho and Kaede called him by his full name._

_Finally, my betas thought the accent that I was using for Kaede was too hard to understand. So, if you pay attention to such things, you'll notice the way she is speaking is different from the previous chapters. I did that on purpose and plan to edit the previous chapters when I get the chance. The change was meant to make the read easier, although I have kept key eliminates of her accent — ye, yer, nay — and just made the sentence structure and verb usage 'modern.'_

_That's all for now. - Dani_


	20. Baka, Baka, Baka

_For Sassy. _

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_Special thanks to Ai Kisugi and Karaumea for serving as my betas for 'The Princess and the Warrior,' and to Eggry for keeping me on the straight and narrow and helping me beat my muses into submission. I now have them on leash — I hope._

_Author's notes below. Profanity warning._

———

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Twenty: Baka, Baka, Baka**

Kagome's feet never touched the ground, or so it felt in the midst of her joy. A bright smile lit her face, and all she could think about now was getting to Inuyasha to tell him about her perfect day. She slid her keycard through the lock on the door of Seven's employee entrance and practically danced into the sterile-looking hallway.

The afternoon had been unbelievable on many counts. She had managed to make it through her routine without her ankle giving out, not one but three times before the weak appendage decided it had had enough and allowed her to topple in an ungraceful heap against the polished wood floor. She had gained some bruises from the abrupt collision, but the high she felt from her prior accomplishment wouldn't allow the tumble to frustrate her as it typically would. She still needed to keep working for her dream, but at least she had managed to leap gracefully over a major hurtle.

And then, there was Inutaisho Takahashi. She had always envisioned the businessman as the stoic type, formal and stiff — much like Doctor Takahashi. However, he had been nothing but encouraging and friendly, especially after her first run through. The older man had even asked Kaede to forward the workshop date and time to his secretary, because after what he had just witnessed, he had to see the final performance.

Kagome had blushed at his words, partly because he was optimistic that she would actually be dancing in the workshop when she hadn't even auditioned yet and partly because it was not easy to accept such high praise from such a distinguished man. The Takahashi family was beyond famous, and it felt strange interacting with the patriarch when she had seen him only on the news or in magazines before. He made her feel confident in much the same way Yash lifted her spirits when she was feeling down. Fortunately for her, Inutaisho had left before her sudden downfall. Her feelings about the day would have been decidedly different if he had witnessed that display.

Kagome sighed happily as she threw open the door that lead to the main floor of the club. The place was still empty and would be for at least another hour. Jakotsu was already at the bar, going through the inventory; Bankotsu was yelling at someone near the front door; several bouncers were setting up the ropes that barred off the VIP balcony; and then, there was Yash. He was unloading a small crate of liquor bottles, setting each of them on the counter one by one for Jakotsu.

"Yash," she called, just as the aforementioned man placed another bottle on the bar top.

He turned at the sound of her voice, and a smile twisted the edges of his mouth. It was the expression that always made her melt — arrogant and self-assured, yet filled with a passion meant only for her. Her heart skipped a beat when their eyes locked, and her body began to tingle with an urgency that magnified her already excited state. As her breath hitched, she made a decision that strayed from her usually reserved approach to public displays of affection. She craved to taste him and would not be denied.

With a forceful tug on the front of his t-shirt, Kagome yanked the bouncer down as she rose onto the rounded tips of her sneakers. Her glossed lips found his in an unguarded kiss. His body stiffened at her assault, only to relax when he allowed his defenses to drop and reality to wash away. Kagome slid her arm up around his neck when she felt his tense muscles loosen and then released the front of his shirt and slid the other arm up as well. She pulled her body against his and released a soft moan when his arms circled her waist, drawing the woman a measure closer. Her appendages prickled with the sensation of a thousand pins from the lack of oxygen, and heat radiated from her core to her outer extremities, flushing every inch of her flesh. The longer they kissed, the warmer she grew until she felt certain she would melt into a puddle of goo in the midst of her euphoria.

Unable to breathe, Kagome pulled a hairsbreadth away. She blinked the lids of her lust-filled eyes and pressed her forehead to his. Her chest heaved, sucking down the oxygen she had been deprived, and, at the same time, allowing her to take in the earthen aroma of her man. His scent always made her feel as if she had come home.

"Hi," she whispered. The room was otherwise silent around her, allowing her to forget the audience she had noted on her way to embrace her boyfriend, who didn't seem too displeased by her public attack.

"Hi," he echoed. His cocky smile had faded into a goofy grin. His face was just as inflamed as hers, but his cheeks darkened further when a series of catcalls and whistles erupted from their spectators. His golden eyes immediately flitted to the peripheral of his vision to see the men gabbing at the couple. He growled and pulled his head away from the lady while wrapping his arms tighter around her as if to protect her from their intrusion. "Keh, show is over, assholes, so piss off!" he commanded.

Much to Kagome's exasperation, his agitation only solicited another loud whistle, followed by an exuberant, "Kiss her again, Yash!" from somewhere in the back. Jakotsu, who was the closest of the other employees, snickered from behind the bar, but quickly schooled his features when her companion jerked his head and glared in the bartender's direction. Another deep-seeded growl erupted low in his throat, and his lips twitched into a snarl.

She sighed and lowered her heels back to the floor. Her high was now forgotten in favor of her embarrassment and the need to settle his agitation. She placed her palm against his cheek and made him turn his head so that she could look into his vibrant eyes. "Yash, ignore them," she said gently. She smiled wryly as his animated features ticked while he debated her requested. "Please," she urged. "I have much to tell you."

"Keh. You couldn't have started with that, woman?" he asked just loud enough for her to hear. He released his hold on her and shot the men around him another poignant glare, a look he often used to mask his embarrassment, but his coworkers had already gone back to their tasks. Their soft laughter continued to hiss through the empty club.

Kagome giggled over the petulant, puppy-dog face he made whenever he felt put out or annoyed. Her fingers covered her kiss-swollen lips to stifle the errant laugh. "It might not have been for the best," she said softly, still covering her mouth. "But kissing you was definitely worth the shocked expression on your face as I grabbed your shirt." She dropped her hand back down.

He snorted. "You surprised me is all." Yash huffed again, and then fixed his eyes once more on her. He narrowed them as they scanned over her features. A hand immediately traveled to her mouth; his thumb caressed the abnormal pucker of her lower lip. "Did you fall again?" he asked.

Her fingers moved to explore the swollen portion of her mouth as his hand shifted to cup her cheek. It felt horrific when she'd run her fingers or her tongue over the raised portion, but when she looked in the mirror, the damage was barely noticeable. "Yes, but I'm fine. Nothing to worry about." She smiled reassuringly.

"Hmm," he started, as if he didn't believe her. "You really should be more …"

"Stop fondling her and just kiss her again, Yash!" someone shouted again, interrupting their tender moment.

"Piss off!" Yash shouted, going from caring to raging jerk in a matter of seconds. "I swear to all the Kami, I'm going to flatten you assholes if you don't shut up!" His rigid body shook with rage as he postulated, turning to face every one of the men lingering in the room. When no one stood up to the challenge, he grabbed her hand. "Come on," he ordered, and then he led her to the doors that led up to the office.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Kagome allowed him to pull her off the main floor. Her footfalls stuttered as she tried to keep up with the death-march pace he presented her with. "Yash, slow down please," she pleaded. Although she wasn't eager to remain in the presence of his coworkers after their juvenile remarks, she would rather escape them with her arm still in its socket. She jerked her arm back, trying to slow him, but even that attempt was futile. "Yash!" she insisted again just as they reached the doors.

Kagome chirped in surprise when they were safely behind the closed doors and he pushed her against the wall. He grunted in annoyance, but hers was completely forgotten moments later when the warmth of his body immediately filled the gap between them. His hot breath tickled the flesh of her throat, causing her to gasp sharply.

"Stupid jerks. I swear some day I'm going to …," he muttered against her throat. He fell silent for a moment, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. His body relaxed against hers, even as her heart began to slam against her breastbone. "I'm never going to live that down, you know?" he continued huskily. "I should really be annoyed with you for that." His lips began to caress the flesh his breath had kissed. "Bank and Jak already told everyone about us kissing on the couch. They've been harassing me since, and that kiss …" She shivered as his fingertips skimmed the line of her jaw. "I don't even want to think what types of jokes I'm going to have to endure after _that_ display."

Kagome turned her head slightly, allowing him access to the marred plains of her throat. There were times she absolutely loved and hated the effect he had on her. "It was still worth it," she defended, but her voice was sultry despite her attempts to mask her desire. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Besides, I'm having a wonderful day and I just thought you'd want to share in my happiness. However, if you prefer me to leave …" She shoved him away, putting no real force behind her escape attempt, and then tried to step around him. He easily captured her and placed her back against the wall.

"I didn't say that," he corrected her assumption, completely missing her attempts to be coy. "Now, what was so important that you felt the need to pounce on me like a cat the moment you walked in the door?" His fingers now toyed with her braid, pulling out long pieces from the weave.

Realizing what he was doing, she shoved him again and swatted his hand. "Stop that," she admonished lightly. "Just imagine what they would think if I went back out there with my hair in disarray." She laughed softly at the grouchy expression darkening his features.

"Keh, probably wouldn't live that down either," he admitted, stopping his desecration of her braid in favor of toying with the loose tendrils framing her face. "Now, what happened, woman? And don't make me ask again."

At his words, it was as if a dam broke, releasing the full weight of her barely controlled excitement. She released a high-pitched squeal and bounced up and down on her toes, forcing her boyfriend to step back, wide-eyed, from her exuberant wake.

"Come on," she said. This time, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the staircase and into the office. She skirted around several boxes sitting near the doorway and headed for the couch. Once before it, she gently shoved him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit. She, in turn, chose to stand; her body quaked with elation.

"Kagome!" he said, exasperated.

"I made it through my routine today," she practically yelled, expelling the words all in one breath. "Three times, Yash! Three times, all the way through, before my ankle gave!" She bounced up and down again on her toes. She clapped her hands. "I cannot believe I did it! I just felt it, like I used to, and it just came — no apprehension, no fear. It's all because of you, too. I … oh!"

The beating of her heart increased ten-fold in the split second between saying 'I' and her exhalation. Any trace of impatience in her boyfriend had disappeared in favor of the wide grin that exposed the tips of his upper canines, and she found herself secured in the warmth of his arms once more. Her breathing turned ragged as she stared up at him.

"It was all you, Kagome," he said, countering her attempts to give him credit.

"Un-uh," she negated. She would never believe those words, especially after trying for so long. It was only when she had met him that her life began to piece back together. "You made this possible for me," she continued at a whisper, still too overwhelmed by the heat of his embrace. "You got Kaede to let me rehearse at the studio and you did far more than any of those stupid therapists did." She bit her lower lip, letting the flesh slowly escape. She really had no idea how that tiny act drove the man holding her nuts. "Thank you."

With a low growl, he stole a quick kiss, allowing his tongue to skim her lips. It lingered over the puffy portion for a moment longer than the rest before he withdrew. "You've already thanked me enough, Kagome," he whispered. His face still hovered in hers.

She sighed and stepped out of his embrace. "I know, but sometimes I wonder if you really know how much it all means to me — especially the way you always brush it off."

"Keh," he mumbled, and then crossed his arms, which only elicited a laugh from the dancer.

"Just like that …," she added pointedly. She quickly swept a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "I actually think I might be able to pull this off. You should have seen Kaede's face when I made it through, Yash." She squealed again. "And Mr. Takahashi, too. He even asked when the …"

"What!" he interrupted her happy ramble with a yell. His golden eyes were aflame, but not with the passion that had burned moments earlier for her. He snarled and glared at her like she had just uttered something profane. "What the fuck, Kagome?! I told you to stay away from that asshole!"

The smile adorning her face immediately fell. Her brows knitted in confusion. "Wh—what? Stay away from whom?" she asked, hesitantly, a little frightened by his outburst. She danced, shifting her weight from one foot to the other foot in an unconscious fidget. She squawked as he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop her uneasy shifting.

"Sesshomaru," he growled out. "I told you to stay away from that asshole, so what the hell was he doing at the studio, Kagome! What?!"

Kagome's breath hitched, finally realizing what had earned her such a brutish display in behavior. She immediately bristled, and her patience slipped. "Doctor Takahashi?" she barked and received a warning growl from the bouncer as her answer. She jerked her arm free of his grasp, determined not to allow him to manhandle her any longer, and retreated from his fuming form. "Doctor Takahashi wasn't at the studio, Yash," she said icily. "And even if he was, it wouldn't be your business anyway if I spoke to him." She crossed her arms defiantly. He was glaring daggers at her, but she wasn't about to waiver in the face of his behavior.

"You just said …," he started.

"No," she interrupted. "I said 'Mr. Takahashi,' as in Inutaisho Takahashi."

"Like that asshole is much better!" he said sarcastically. "Now, what the hell was he doing there, Kagome?" he demanded again.

'_1, 2, 3,'_ Kagome counted in her head. She made it to ten in an attempt to check her temper in a way that Yash was not. She plastered a smile on her face; her clenched hands and teeth were the only outward signs of her growing anger. "He was having tea with Kaede and he was very pleasant to me," she justified. "Which is more than I can say for you at the moment." She watched his shoulders sag as she chastised him and took his silence as a sign of his cooling temper. She let out a long sigh, expelling some of her anger before she continued, "He plans to attend the workshop if I'm …"

"He plans to what?!" Yash screamed. The volume of his voice sent Kagome scurrying back a few more steps. "I don't want that asshole anywhere near you, in my life. Fucker always has to meddle in everything." His words mumbled a bit as he continued to yell, although the long string of expletives hissing off his tongue was quite clear to Kagome. He paced the room, kicking the couch and then throwing one of the pillows, before he ordered, "Stay the hell away from him, Kagome."

"Stay away from Mr. Takahashi?" she threw back in disbelief. There was an edge of warning to her voice, a tone she had not used in a long time, but had often sent her younger brother scurrying from the room. He nodded, affirming that she had heard him correctly. It was within the same moment that any measure of decorum she possessed flew out the window.

"How-dare-you," she continued slowly. "How dare you order me around and even speak about him like that! He was polite to me today, spoke to me and treated me with respect, which is a hell of a lot more than you're doing right now, _Mr._ Narita."

He stepped back from her, recoiling at her retort, but she knew that he was never one to back down from a fight. She had seen it countless times when he faced some drunk in the club, who had gotten out of control. His face was red and getting redder by the moment, and his mouth gapped like a fish in preparation of his comeback. "Look, bitch …," he barked back, again getting in her face.

Kagome trembled in anger. He often called her a wench, to her annoyance, and she only tolerated princess because he more often than not meant it as an endearment. However, there was nothing skirting the harshness of that single, disrespectful word he had just had the audacity to throw at her. _'Hell, no!'_ she thought just before the palm of her hand connected with his cheek.

"Bitch! You did not just call me a bitch, Yash!" she screamed. Her cheeks puffed from breathing heavily. "You arrogant, self-righteous, asshole. I will speak to whom I please, when I please! You — you baka asshole!"

She stood there for a second, simmering like a teakettle about to call, as he rubbed his assaulted cheek. Her body shook; her face was flushed; and then something happened, she hadn't expected. One by one, tears began to slide down her scarlet cheeks. She couldn't sob, not with the way she was now holding her breath, but they were there, revealing physically the depths of her fury. How could he speak to her in such a manner, so callous and coarse? She would not allow it; she would not tolerate it. With a roar of rage, Kagome turned and walked away, leaving him standing in her wake, still seething in his anger.

"Baka asshole!" she tossed one last time before slamming the door to the office.

———

'_Baka asshole!'_ Kagome's words resounded in Inuyasha's head as he sat in Seven's office in quiet contemplation. They had been the last thing she had screamed before storming out of the club, madder than he had ever seen her. Granted, his dancer was justified in her ire; he'd even agree that he was a 'baka asshole' at times, particularly when he couldn't control his temper.

Inuyasha had felt justified in his reaction when Kagome had mentioned his father. The mention of that man always seemed to send him off the deep end. She berated him back, he had retaliated, and she had slapped him. It had shocked him into silence. He had then noticed the tiny droplets streaming down his girl's cheeks and every ounce of self-righteous resolve had melted away.

He had bore witness to several of his parents' spats when he was a child, and he had never fully understood what the arguments were about. But, he would never forget the look of pain on his mother's face, the tears cresting the edges of her eyes and the gentle sobs she had tried hard to hide from her boy. It wasn't until years later that he understood the hurt she carried; Inutaisho's words were akin to knives when he was angry. Inuyasha, apparently, had inherited the old man's talent in wounding those dearest in his life.

He had wanted to stop Kagome from leaving, even had reached out to grab her hand as she fled, but the ballerina had made it to the door and escaped the demon of a man who adored her before he could even exhale. He had stood there, staring at the closed door, unable to move or follow the vibrant woman who had woken him from his lethargic, unhappy existence. Now, as he sat on the sofa drumming his fingers on its arm, he felt like a complete asshole.

Yash had never been one to apologize. In fact, he never said he was sorry outside of casual conversation and never when it counted. What good was an apology when it couldn't erase the idiocy of misspoken words? He had always been a man of action, preferring to make amends through deeds rather than saying something that in no way conveyed the depths of his remorse.

Kikyo had once told him his inability to apologize was an inherent trait, courtesy of his father, in response to one of his more colorful outbursts. He had flown off the handle at her the first time she had said it, and she had only stared him down with that cold gaze of hers as if to say, 'you have got to be kidding.' She had never expected him to apologize, because most of the time, she could silence him with a look. Kagome wasn't Kikyo, though. His dancer fought back when he'd lost his temper with her earlier, getting in his face to counter his barbs with an even sharper tongue. She didn't brush off his behavior, and he knew he'd have to make appropriate amends.

"Baka asshole."

Inuyasha's fingers stopped their incessant cadence against the couch's arm. His head jerked around, and he glared at Bankotsu. His boss had been in the office for at least fifteen minutes, but until now, he had remained silent, although the tension that had radiated off of him when he came in had been tangible.

"You got something to say?" Yash growled out. Expletives colored the question before and after the clearer demand from his boss. His golden eyes narrowed on his friend, who was returning his glare with a glacial one of his own.

"Baka asshole," he repeated, speaking slow enough to make sure the name was perfectly clear to his employee. "You do know that you were yelling at her so loudly that we could hear your sorry ass on the floor?" Bankotsu shook his head. "How the hell you ever get a woman is beyond me." The owner scoffed.

Yash bristled in annoyance. His fists balled until his nails dug into the palms of his hands. "Piss off, asshole," he said grudgingly, trying to keep his temper when he really wanted to punch Bankotsu. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the other man was trying to rile him into a fight; although, at this point of the night, he could use someone or something to pummel until his knuckles bled.

"That is really all you have, Yash?" the club owner returned as he rose from his desk chair. "Piss off, asshole," he parroted. "Intelligent wit and winning personality, oh how the ladies flock." The sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he rounded the desk, sitting on the edge. He crossed his arms across his chest; his chin lowered to pin the lead bouncer in a deadly glare.

The muscles in Yash's back stiffened, and he jumped to his feet. His fists hung at his sides, clenching and relaxing in a rhythm that mirrored his rapid heartbeat. "Shut the hell up," he yelled. His lips twitched into a snarl. "Why are you even on my case? It's none of your damn business."

Bankotsu uncrossed his arms, pushing off the desk to stand erect. His pointer finger stabbed at the air between them, punctuating his thoughts as he spoke. "You're in my office, acting like a shit and driving me nuts with your damn tapping, so I'm making it my business. And, I'm going to remind you again that after all the shit you've put Jak and me through and all that we've done for you, I'd say everything about your screwed up life is our business. Now, tell me what the hell is going on with you and why you were screaming at Kagome before I knock you out just to soothe my temper, _baka asshole_."

Yash snorted and rolled his eyes in response, but Bankotsu's speech had effectively taken some of the wind out of Inuyasha's blustering sails. As much as he hated to admit it, he did owe him a great deal. Bank and Jak had been the best solution when he cut ties with his old life, and they had stepped up and proved more times than he could count the measure of their friendship. It still didn't mean, however, that he wanted to relent.

"Keh, not your business," he retorted, letting out another softer snort as he finished. He crossed his arms and dropped back to the couch. His lips pursed into a pout worthy of an obstinate toddler at the peak of the terrible twos. There was no doubt that he could be stubborn at times, but he was already too frustrated with the situation with Kagome to deal with Bankotsu as well. Why the hell couldn't life be easy? _'Cause I am a baka,'_ he silently reasoned.

"Inuyasha," Bankotsu's voice held an air of warning. "What happened?" Usually those words were accompanied by the owner handing Yash a drink, and it spoke of the level of Bank's petulance that he hadn't come baring whiskey when he came into the office. Yash really could use a drink; although, he doubted Jak would oblige him. No doubt the bartender was just as mad at him as his brother.

"My father happened," he relented. He chewed the inside of his lip in aggravation. "The prick was at the studio today, and Kagome comes in talking about the bastard as if he's the highlight of the damn year." The girl was the best thing that had happened to him since his wife died; he knew it and felt her absence when she couldn't be with him. His father had no business meddling with her, too. He had done enough to his son's relationship with Kikyo; it was because of Inutaisho that he had been away from her so much, which in turn led to the souring of their relationship. Now, his father was interfering with Kagome and that angered him to the point of madness. Just once, he wanted something that was one-hundred percent his, without strings or interference. And now, his father was stepping in to take away the best thing in Yash's life.

The businessman let out a long, slow breath, and a slight growl of exasperation didn't go unmissed by the bouncer. Bank wasn't bothering to mask his annoyance even as he moved from the desk to sit at the opposite end of the sofa. "You yelled at Kagome over something she knows nothing about?" Bank asked incredulously. "You really are a baka asshole."

"Keh! Stop calling me that!" Yash returned crossly. He could think of a few choice names that he was as well but he had no intention of allowing Bank to see the depths of his remorse. He'd sooner beat the crap out of him than ever admit to being in the wrong.

"You do know Jak wants to castrate you, right?" Bank added. "He heard more of your screaming match than I did."

"Jak can piss off, too." Yash continued by mumbling something uncouth about his friend, but nothing outside of what he had expressed to Jak over the years. "Don't know why he cares, anyway. He hates most women. Don't know why Kagome would be any different."

"Moron," Bank muttered. He stood back up, making his way to his desk. "Jak adores you, would prefer you felt the same, but accepted long ago you don't bat for the other team. He just wants to see you happy, Yash, and Kagome makes you happy, thus Jak adores Kagome."

"That's some fucked up logic." His friend was a good guy, a good friend, but highly unnerving at times. Bank had had to physically restrain Yash from beating the crap out of Jakotsu on more than one occasion. The bartender had even been openly hostile to Kikyo more than once, as well, which was why it made no sense that he would like Kagome and not his wife. He really wasn't in the mood to dive any deeper into that train of thought because he was sure it would add to his foul mood.

"You really want to debate Jak's logic, Yash?" The club owner laughed. "That conversation would go in circles for hours." The club owner paused, picking up a pen and going through the receipt pile on his desk. "However, if you want to have a long conversation, you could call Kagome and apologize. Maybe explain — oh, I don't know — who the hell you really are and why you flew off at her." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke.

Yash rolled his eyes. That would go over like a lead balloon, he was sure. He could picture it now: He would start off by saying that he was sorry — _'Keh, yeah right'_ — and then launch into a big spiel about how he was really a Takahashi, not a Narita, and how much he hated his family, a family Kagome seemed to be in love with. How she could feel any warmth toward his arrogant brother was beyond him, even if the prick did help save her life. _'She would have never made it to the jerk if it weren't for me!'_ He also didn't understand what had impressed her about his father; then again, the older man, who was a fantastic businessman but a lousy dad, impressed most people. After that, he was sure she'd insist that he call his dad and be all over him just like Kaede and Bank were about calling the famed entrepreneur. "Feh, screw that." No, he liked being Yash Narita; the anonymity suited him and saved him a great deal of aggravation. But, was there really any other way to fix the damage with Kagome?

"Fine, suit yourself." There was a brief silence, before Bankotsu continued without looking up from what he was working on. "Although," he added. "I never took you for a coward."

An instant later, Yash was back on his feet. He grabbed one of the sofa pillows and launched it at Bankotsu. The plush square struck the desk lamp and sent half the paperwork on the desk scattering to the floor. "Keh, screw you, Bank. I ain't a coward!" he yelled. He snarled and growled like a dog, flexing his hands in preparation for a fight. He had never backed down from a competition; he had never backed down when his brother got in his face, even if he was beat to pulp afterward; and he never backed down when he wanted something. Who the hell was Bank to call him a coward? He'd always proven otherwise, hadn't he?

Bankotsu tossed the pillow aside but remained seated even as he set to picking up the receipts and other items from the floor. He silently reordered his workspace, ignoring the glaring figure that had all the warmth of a trained pit bull. "You _are_ a coward," he said. "Especially if you cannot even face Kagome." He sniffed disdainfully.

"I'm not afraid of facing Kagome!" he countered, and even as scary as the dancer was when angered, he still wasn't afraid of her. No, what he was afraid of was something else — letting her in completely. It would only open him up to a world of hurt, and he definitely wouldn't survive his heart being yanked out a second time.

"You want to prove me wrong, asshole, then go find her," Bank retorted. "I don't even give a shit if you tell her about your damn dad, but at least apologize so you two can go back to making out on the couch and I can go back to teasing you into a blind rage when I walk in on you."

"Fine, I will!" Yash barked. He stomped toward the door, determined to do just that. He wasn't afraid and he'd prove it. He didn't know exactly what he was going to say to Kagome. He hated to apologize, and telling her about his family was out of the question — though not entirely.

As his mind began to formulate what to say, he missed the knowing smirk adorning his friend's face. Bankotsu had a knack for goading him into action, and most of the time, Yash was too incensed to notice he had been outmaneuvered. He shut the door behind him and practically ran out of the club.

———

Yash waited almost an hour for someone to enter Takahashi Hall so that he could slip into the security door behind them. It was times like this that he almost missed having a cell phone so that he could call Kagome to let her know he was there. Still, a surprise visit had its merits. What if she didn't want to speak to him? What if she had decided he wasn't worth the effort? Their relationship was new enough that he still hesitated to call her his girlfriend and she his boyfriend, at least in each other's presence. It would be a painless split, wouldn't it? Even as he thought of it, the idea of losing Kagome made him feel ill, and again, he agreed with his decision to come straight to TU instead of waiting until morning after he realized Bankotsu had manipulated him.

He took the concrete stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor, and then slipped through the door to the all-women floor of Takahashi Hall. He made his way halfway up the corridor and stopped in front of the door marked with the number six. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, nervous for three reasons. First, he had never actually been up to Kagome's dorm room, so he was guessing from comments she had made that this was it. Second, it was after midnight, and she was angry with him. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene in the middle of Takahashi Hall in the middle of the night. Finally, he really did not want to face his girl's roommate at this hour and after upsetting Kagome. The dancer had made it pretty clear that Sango was protective of her, and he wasn't interested in going a few rounds with an angry, female martial artist. It would really be the capper to an already crappy day.

Hesitantly, he rapped his knuckles against the wooden frame, soft enough not to wake the neighbors, but loud enough to alert the room's occupants. He waited with as much patience as was possible for him. Hearing no one stir, he tapped again and this time he could hear someone shuffling beyond the barrier. He stepped back from the door when it opened, praying that it was her room and that she would answer. The door opened slowly, a crack at first, and then fully. Much to his relief, Kagome stood before him in a pair of kitten pajama bottoms and a tank top. Her brown eyes were ringed red and puffy as if she had cried herself to sleep. Her raven-hair stood out from her head in disarray, and he was fairly certain she wasn't entirely coherent.

"Hi," he said, otherwise at a loss at how to begin. He _really_ hated these types of conversations.

"Yash?" Her voice was thick with sleep. A fist rubbed at her eyes. "How? What?" She sniffled, and her lips began to twitch in a myriad of emotions. Was she happy to see him? Angry still? The emotions played before settling on a frown that made his heart lurch.

"I needed to talk to you," he told her. Her wounded expression was killing him in a slow, painful manner, and multiplying his guilt until he was sure he would agree to anything she demanded of him. If it wasn't against his nature, he would already be down on his knees and apologizing until sunrise.

"It's the middle of the night," she pointed out. Her slender arms wrapped around her torso as if to protect her from anymore pain.

He sighed. He was horrible at apologies, even pseudo ones, because he had never actually given one before — at least none that he could recall. He had a nagging feeling that his mother had probably managed to get a few out of him when he was a child, but nothing immediately came to mind. Kagome, also, wasn't making this easy. "Keh. You're usually up this late with me at the club anyway," he reasoned, but steeled himself for an onslaught if she decided to argue. He wasn't leaving until he made things right. "Take a walk with me."

"Yash …," she started to argue but was quickly cut off.

"Take a walk with me," he insisted. His earnest eyes had found her pained ones. They were filled with determination, a flame blazing with the same passion that made it hard for him not to kiss her when they were alone.

Her chest heaved in exasperation. "Give me a second."

Kagome shut the door, leaving him alone. Immediately, his hands started fidgeting with the zipper of his leather jacket. He could feel the mix of emotions swirling around her in a ferocious battle now that she was fully awake, but he'd be damned before he didn't come out on the other side of her awesome storm. He took a deep breath. He could do this; he could make it right. He wasn't irrevocably screwed up and he sure as hell was not a coward._ 'Feh, Bank.'_

A minute later, Kagome emerged with a pair of puppy slippers and a sweater over her tank top. His entire body relaxed when he saw the addition to her already interesting sleep attire. He eyed her up and down again and smirked in amusement. She was absolutely adorable.

"What's so funny?" she demanded. Her brow knitted.

The smile washed from his face. She was definitely still mad, and the part of his senses that screamed for self-preservation ordered him to run. But, that wasn't in the cards for his night. He was determined, stubbornly so. The only question was how he was going to make it right and still maintain a measure of his pride and not end up spilling his entire life story to her. What he did know was that at all times, even if she yelled, he had to keep his temper. Another yelling match would hardly work in his favor, especially since his mouth tended to run away from him.

Keeping it light was probably the best bet. "Kitty pajamas and puppy slippers," he answered her question, and then gestured for them to head down the hall. They walked in silence, and he opened the door to the stairwell, allowing her to slip through first.

"I like my pajamas," she defended when they were finally in the stairwell. She huffed a little; her bruised bottom lip puckered out even more in a slight pout.

"So do I." He chuckled softly. "They are very _fitting_."

"Why? Naïve, like the way you take me to be?" she shot. She was looking straight ahead, but he noticed her brown eyes watching him from the corner, waiting for his reaction.

Based on that, he decided to keep his cool instead of saying what initially came to mind — a sarcastic retort that would probably inspire her to slap him again. His short fuse was still short, but he refused to blow up at her a second time no matter how prickly she behaved. He deserved it, after all. He took a deep breath. "You're not naïve, Kagome," he said simply. "I never said I thought you were."

Finally reaching the security door, his companion paused, checking to make sure she had her keys in her sweater pocket before they wandered out into the night air. The cloudy sky above them burned an orange-red as the gases reflected the glow of the city lights, illuminating the darker corners of the TU campus far better than the glow of a full moon.

"I sometimes wonder," Kagome said as they ambled along one of the many sidewalk paths. Hurt radiated in the shaky timbre of her voice. She heaved a wistful sigh, the kind elicited when a person saw something as hopeless. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

He tried not to growl in frustration. Life would be easier if she could just read his mind, ascertain all the facts, and then never bring them up, but still be aware of them. However, since telepathy was science fiction, he was going to have to explain things the old fashioned way, and he had never been tactful or articulate.

Yash was still adamant that he didn't want her to know about his family, his past — at least not yet. He was confused over his feelings for her still; he was pretty certain she would hate him if she knew that the only reason he had saved her was because he thought she was Kikyo; he was afraid that knowledge would drive her away; and he honestly didn't know what he wanted from her, aside from her daily presence. His thoughts contradicted each other in a never-ending, day-to-day battle. How could he explain anything when his mind changed from minute to minute? Besides, he was certain one explanation would lead to another, which would lead to yet another, and the can of worms he called his screwed up life would explode in his face. He just wasn't ready. _'Damn, this is hard.'_

"I," he started, growling at himself as he decided how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I shouldn't have gotten mad at you earlier. There are — there are some things you just don't know about." It wasn't 'I'm sorry,' but it really was the closest he'd ever come to it.

Kagome's chin dropped. She was still avoiding his gaze and still wearing that mask of pain that wrenched his heart. "Obviously," she whispered. "I just wish you'd tell me instead of getting mad at me. It wasn't my fault he was at the studio; he was visiting Kaede. I don't even know why you don't like the Takahashis. Mr. Takahashi was polite to me, and he and Kaede seemed to be close."

"She's like a daughter to him," he corrected her last statement and then muttered under his breath. Kaede wasn't even the man's flesh and blood, and he still treated her better than he had ever treated his sons.

"Why would _that_ bother you so much, Yash? So what if he and Kaede are close? From what I understand, the Takahashis and your family have always been." She paused. "Except for you," she said, accusingly. "Why is that?"

He stopped walking, staring at the cracks in the concrete. What was the viable answer without flat out saying, 'my father is a jerk?' What had he told her about Sesshomaru? Oh yes, that nothing mattered to fighters like him except for the win, and the doctor had learned his methods from the leader of their mad world.

He swallowed hard and glanced back up at Kagome, tucking his hands in his jean pockets as he did. "Do you remember what I said about Doctor Takahashi?" She nodded and half-shrugged, and any minute, he expected her to start tapping her slipper-clad foot. "Inutaisho Takahashi was also a fighter, but I guess you know that. He — he has the same view of martial arts as Sesshomaru, and I disagree with his methods."

The tapping he expected from the puppies on her feet turned out to be a stomp as she barely repressed her anger. "Let me get this straight — you _disagree_ with his methods, so you felt the need to scream at me and insult me?"

"Err," he said inarticulately. Love and life were sometimes like a fighting match, and he was about to lose the battle with his girl if he didn't say something quickly. "It's more than just disagreeing with his methods, Kagome. It's — he was my sensei." His breath came in sharp, fast heaves. He hated talking about the old man, and if he wasn't careful, he would lose his temper again or reveal more than he intended. "I spent my entire life trying to garner the approval of that man, and all the while, he did nothing but beat me down. If I won a match, he'd analyze everything I did wrong and berate me for giving any points away. If I lost, I'd spend weeks, if not months, training on blocks to defend against the attacks I had lost against." He was beyond frustrated. "There was no winning with that asshole. He spent years tying me in knots, Kagome. No matter how I try to escape the prick, he still pops up and messes with my life."

Silence fell between them, save Inuyasha's heavy breathing as he tried to expel his anger. He hoped she'd understand his reasons; she had understood them when she explained why he didn't care for his brother — in not so many words. As much as he didn't deserve forgiveness, he prayed for it all the same, and a minute later, he was rewarded by the gentle touch of her warm hand pressed to the front of his motorcycle jacket. He finally looked at her, and what he found in her eyes eased his mind.

"I had a feeling there was more to that story," she said softly. "When you told me why you didn't like Doctor Takahashi, I always thought you were leaving something out." Her hand moved to his cheek, and she drew her body closer to his. "I'm sorry I slapped you."

"Keh," he brushed off her apology, and then Yash relaxed into her touch, savoring the connection. "I'm not you, you know woman?" he continued. "I don't just spill my guts for the world to see." He scoffed, but the playful glint in his eye was all she needed to know he was teasing her.

She sighed. "I know, Yash," she relented to the point. "I'm curious, though. Is that why you still haven't answered me about Kohaku? Sango asked me about it again today, and I know how you feel about fighting. I just thought that maybe you'd be a good fit, having had a sensei like Kohaku's last."

"No." He shook his head to emphasize the point. "Part of the reason I haven't answered you is because I haven't decided," Yash continued. "I've never thought of myself as _sensei_ material. Loving to fight and being good enough to teach are two different things."

Taking her hand, he started to walk down the path again. If memory served, they weren't far from the tennis courts and the sakura trees. They always reminded him of when his mother would take him to the festival at Ueno Park when he was a kid, and he loved the grove on campus because it reminded him of the happy memories. For the sake of his pride, he had never mentioned his exact reason for studying beneath the flowering vegetation in the springtime while he was still attending the school.

The last sakura festival he had attended had been with his mother when he was twelve. He had never really understood the symbolism when he was a child, even when his mother explained that the falling blossoms represented the transient nature of life. It began, created beauty in the world, and then just as quickly vanished on a breath of wind. His mother's life had been that way for him, and sitting beneath the cherry trees always reminded him of the joy she felt in her lifetime. They were happy memories, the ones he should be clinging to instead of the darker moments that haunted his existence. Those involving his father, brother and Kikyo were the darkest. He needed to let the memories die and cling to the ones that lightened instead of weighed down his existence — like the one he was making now with Kagome.

The shuffle of her puppy slippers was the only sound he heard as they walked through the shadow of the buildings to the less well-lit area by the trees. "I think you are good enough to teach," she said finally. "I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you would make a good teacher for Kohaku. He — he has a lot of frustration, anger even, and …" She giggled "… given your temperament, I thought you'd understand what he is going through."

"Feh," he scoffed. He wasn't all gruff, was he? "Psychology doesn't work on me, woman, but if it'll make you happy, I'll train him on a temporary basis." He shrugged and then released her hand to slip his arm around her shoulders.

Kagome rested her head against his side. Her eyes closed while she mechanically moved along, and Yash was well aware of her sleepy turn. "Kagome, do I need to take you back?" It was a shame, really. He wanted to sit with her for awhile beneath the trees — even if the blossoms had long since fluttered away. It wasn't a beautiful night, but every night she was with him always had potential to be extraordinary.

With a sigh, she lifted her head to glance up at him. "Yes, but not yet." She snuggled a bit closer. "I have an early class tomorrow and then I plan on spending the afternoon at Hachioji. Will you come watch?" Her long lashes fluttered as they blinked over her doe eyes, peering at him in an innocent plea.

"Yes, I'll come, but maybe you should make sure the jerk isn't there before I do." He was acting as if he were a child where his father was concerned.

They stopped walking briefly, finally making it to the trees. "I hope you don't expect me to treat him as you do, Yash," she said seriously. "He was very kind to me, and I have no reason to be rude to him until he is anything but."

They wandered amongst the flora, before settling on the ground near the center of the grove. As he leaned against a tree, she situated her body back into the warmth of his body.

"No," he admitted begrudgingly. Yash really wished someone was on his side in his anti-Inutaisho campaign, but there really weren't sides when, again, he couldn't decide from one minute to the next if he loved or hated his father. "But don't expect me to like him."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tighter against his chest. Tilting his head, he rested his cheek against the crown of her raven hair. The silken threads shimmered an eerie red beneath the city lights that blazed the cloud-covered sky. He knew how she looked in the moonlight, but he wondered what it would be like to sit with her beneath the sakura trees at festival time in March with the blossoms adorning her glossy hair. Would he get that chance with her a year from now when the trees were in full bloom again? He didn't dare hope for it, not when anything could happen in a year's time.

"You shouldn't hate people, you know?" Kagome said, distracting him from his darker mindset. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her face against his chest.

"Keh, I don't hate him. I know it seems like I do, but I …" He growled in frustration. He closed his eyes, counting to ten, and then turned his face to bury it in her hair. Her sweet scent enveloped his senses, calming him. Why couldn't he let go? Why couldn't he trust enough to let her in completely? _'Why?'_ The only answer was that some of his walls refused to come down, out of fear and anger, but mostly fear. He was a baka and, even worse, he was a coward hiding behind the guise of needing more time.

"You're what, Yash?" she prompted. Her voice was muffled against his chest. She pulled back slightly in order to look up at him. "Angry? Upset? Perturbed?"

He shrugged. "I guess you could call it that." He really was a hopeless case when it came to conversations like this.

With a sigh, she detached her body from his to seek his face in the dark. Her lips pressed against his in a quick peck. "You know, eventually, you're going to have to let it all go and stop letting the past bother you so much," she whispered.

Yash smiled at the irony of her words. "You're one to talk. I've seen you get frustrated when your ankle gives, even heard you say you wished you'd died in that accident." He scoffed as his thoughts took an unhappy turn once again. If she had died, would he have ever found the sliver of happiness she had created for him in someone else? Or, would he still be walking around like a miserable zombie? She was the salve for so many deep wounds, and the measure of calm in the midst of a violent storm. There was no doubt he had gotten better the last few months, began to feel again, and he had to give that credit to Kagome. "Come on, let's head back."

Kagome slid away from him as he stood. Once on his feet, he extended a hand to help the dancer to hers. Yash slipped his arm around her, and as they turned to walk back the way they came, he caught a flash of light in his peripheral vision. "What the…," his voice trailed off. He stopped walking, staring off into the shadows cast by the collegiate buildings. His golden eyes narrowed on the spot he swore he saw the flash come from.

"Is something wrong?" Kagome asked. She shifted uneasily beside him.

He didn't answer her question, giving his search a few more beats of his heart. "Keh, I guess I'm just seeing things." He laughed, trying to play off his paranoia, but he could have sworn he saw it. "Come on, you need some sleep," he added, flashing a smile.

But, the smile was just a façade, like his name, like the dye job on his hair and like the gruff exterior he presented to the world. An uneasy feeling settled upon him. He stole a glance back to the shadowed juncture of the buildings. Every sense screamed as if to say that someone was there, watching and noting his every move. _'I could just be paranoid,'_ he reasoned; after all, Bank often pointed out that his mental health had been questionable since Kikyo died, but then every moment he had been plagued with a sense of foreboding lately flipped through his mind. There was the night outside Jaku, when he dropped her off at the studio and when he walked down the street from his apartment. And, how was it that his father had miraculously shown up at the studio that day when he had rarely visited the place when Kikyo was alive? Why did he feel as if he was being watched at every turn? He winced.

'_Shit. I'm a baka!'_ If his father was sniffing around the places Yash had recently been, no doubt he had left behind a few fleas to latch on to him like parasites._ 'Baka, baka, baka!'_

———

_**Author's Note:**__ I have had a horrific schedule since last I posted, and that stress morphed into the worst case of writer's block I have had in ages. I had a set outline for this story, but I found that sticking to it was only adding to my frustrations. So, I've gone back to 'writing how I feel,' which has never led me astray before and my stories have always found their visualized ending. The issue with that method, though, means that chapters will continue to come sporadically. I am truly sorry about the delay, but real life — as the job makes it possible to maintain shelter and buy food — always has to come first._

_On an odd note, this is version five or six — I lost count — of this chapter, and I do mean versions that are significantly different from each other._

_To my reviewers, I'd also like to say thank you. I try to get back to everyone, but there were a number — even from my regular reviewers — that I never responded to because I was so swamped at work. The reviews are appreciated, read and considered._

_Inspiration for the chapter was found in the song "Courage Is" by the Strange Familiar and the 90s R&B playlist I decided fit Kagome at the beginning of this chapter. Any song that helps me relax enough to bypass two months plus of writer's block deserves mentioning, even if it isn't rock._

_Dani_


	21. Piecing Together, Pulling Apart

_For Sassy._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_Special thanks to Ai Kisugi, Karaumea and Eggry for serving as my betas for 'The Princess and the Warrior, and CCSRonin, thanks for sparking part of the idea for this chapter with your wonderful review._

_Chapter warnings: Mild Profanity. (Yash and his mouth, what can I say?)_

_Author's notes below._

**~*~*~**

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Twenty-One: Piecing Together, Pulling Apart**

Inuyasha stood in the hallway of Hachioji Studio, an ominous figure in the light-filled expanses that had become Kagome's personal heaven. Dancers filed by him, stopping conversation and often shooting him sidelong glances as he waited for Kaede to emerge from one of the studios. The ever-rude receptionist had informed him that she was teaching a class, and so he waited for his sister-in-law — albeit impatiently — while Kagome rehearsed in the private dance studio. His persistent growl was no doubt the reason the other dancers were giving him a wide berth when they passed.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders as the grumbling continued. "Stupid flea," he muttered. "Asshole father. Lousy, baka, asshole parasite." If it were profane, the bouncer had expressed it during the last fifteen minutes. He loathed life at the moment and only wore a cheery smile when in Kagome's presence to placate her and to deter her incessant questioning. His mood had grown somewhat darker over the last few days, and his girl had noticed the edge that exceeded his usual petulance. She had bore it with a smile, soft kisses and sighs, while he pretended he wasn't stewing in residual anger.

"Kaede," he barked when the door to the studio opened and the girls started to emerge. The studio owner stood near the door, saying goodbye and reminding them to rehearse in their off time. He grumbled. She hadn't even looked up when he said her name. "Kaede Narita!"

The ballet mistress glanced up from her charges. Her lips pursing and her single eye narrowed into a look of death that made Inuyasha put his head down and scrunch his shoulders up like a turtle. "Patience is a virtue, Inuyasha. You would know this if you were not so self-centered."

He scoffed. Self-centered? How was he self-centered? Of course, after asking the question, he could name several ways in which he was — none of which he would readily admit. "Feh, whatever, wench. Just hurry up. I need to talk to you."

Impatience and anger always made him bold, in tongue and in action, and several days of stewing about his newfound shadows and his father's impromptu visit to the studio had him boiling with anger. He had put off interrogating his sister-in-law in favor of long hours pummeling a punching bag, but when that didn't alleviate his frustrations, he knew he had to talk to her and find out what the old man wanted before his temper prompted him to do something rash.

Kaede stepped out into the hallway, still saying goodbye to her last student, and then shut the studio door. Her slender arms crossed her chest. "You try my patience with your very presence. Shouldn't you be watching Kagome rehearse? That is why you came today, isn't it?"

"What did you tell him?" he demanded, ignoring her questions. He pulled his hands from his pockets as he invaded her space.

"Who?" she played innocent as she turned her back to him and started walking down the hall.

His nostrils flared in aggravation, but he followed her step-for-step. He would have his answers and then he would decide what to do about the entire affair. "My father, the asshole. What did you tell him, Kaede? We had a deal," he yelled, drawing the attention of the people in the studios around them. Several sets of eyes in each room glanced toward the clear panes that opened the rehearsal spaces to the hallway.

With a perturbed grumble, Kaede grabbed his bicep and ushered him quickly around the corner at the end of the corridor. He jerked free of her grip and glared. "We do have a deal, Inuyasha, and I still expect you to keep your end of the bargain. You will call him before Kagome's workshop and you will remember your manners while in my studio!" she chastised, keeping her patience but calling upon the commanding air that most believed had only belonged to her older sibling.

He bristled at her tone. "Hmph, that doesn't answer my question, wench. Why was he here? I spotted those parasites that work for him following me around. Myoga, the bastard flea, and several others. They've been following me around for days — at least — snapping pictures, skulking in shadows." He flexed his fingers several times as he fought the urge to hit something again. "One of those idiots was also going through my trash. My trash, Kaede! How sick is that?"

"And here I thought you had come to support Kagome," Kaede said dryly. She jabbed the tip of her pointer finger against his sternum, forcing him back a step. "Your father only wishes to know you are well, alive and happy. So long as he believes so, he will leave you alone and will trust that you will call him when you are ready."

"I'd rather burn in the lowest levels of hell than give that bastard the satisfaction of hearing from me, especially after having me followed," he barked back.

"You don't mean that, Inuyasha."

"Try me," he seethed out through clenched teeth. "He has no right to interfere, and I swear to all the Kami, if he doesn't leave me alone, the deal's off. He can go screw himself for all I care."

"He has every right," Kaede countered sharply. "He is your father."

"Since when does fatherhood give anyone the right to twist another person into knots and use them for their own pride and glory? I won't go back to that life. I won't go …"

"Is that what you think he does?" Kaede asked with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "He loves you, Inuyasha. He only wants you happy. Why won't you believe me? Why must we always repeat this conversation?"

"Because I have never been his son," he shouted. "I was only a tool to bring pride and glory to the Takahashi name. I lost everything trying to live up to his expectations and when …" His voice broke. "And when _she_ died, he tried to act as if _she_ had never existed."

"I know what you believe, but you also need to believe that perhaps he did not know how to help you. Parents _do_ the best they can, Inuyasha."

"I don't give a shit what you believe, Kaede. Just keep that asshole away from me, and if you don't tell him to stay the hell away from me and Kagome, I'll send my own message," he threatened.

"I am not a carrier pigeon. If you wish to be cruel to a man who loves you, then you will have to act without my aid. Our deal remains, and you are a baka." She turned, walking away.

"I can always disappear again," he shot, desperately. "You can tell him that!"

Kaede stopped, turning her head to peer over her shoulder. "No, you won't, Inuyasha. You have come too far to return to whatever dark place you went after my sister died, and I do not believe you would ever hurt Kagome that way. You know she adores you, and I think the feeling is mutual," she countered pointedly before heading back to the lobby.

"Know-it-all hag," he muttered tersely before stomping off in the direction of Kagome's practice studio.

Kaede was right, however. He didn't want to return to the dark days that followed Kikyo's death, but he didn't want to be under his father's thumb. He had to live his life by his choice, not by anyone else's will, or he truly would never find happiness again — not even with Kagome.

But what could he do in the interim? The trash picking incident the night before had made him livid, more so than when he realized that his daily routine had been infested by men in dark suits and sunglasses who lurked behind corners. Nothing made him want to knock their heads against the wall more than when they felt the need to butt in where Kagome was concerned. He could still hear the mechanical click of the camera lens as it fired off in rapid succession whenever he had tried to kiss her or even placed his hand at the small of her back as they walked. Nothing killed what little romantic notions he held than feeling like he was under a microscope twenty-four hours a day. He was going to have to squash this crap soon, but he wasn't sure how. What he needed was a solution that neither granted his father's wish for him to call him, nor caused any permanent damage to the parasites gnawing away at the thin layer of resolve that kept him from acting like a complete caveman and pummeling them.

He slipped into the studio, pausing momentarily to watch as Kagome finished her routine. He had seen it several times since their 'baka asshole' argument, and every time he could swear she performed even more beautifully than the last time. _'At least there is one thing good in this life.'_ He sighed, allowing his affections for the dancer to overshadow the anger.

Kagome was worth so much to him. Her laughter was the air; her smiles were the sun; her lips tasted like heaven. It was all cliché; he knew that, particularly when he felt like his innards had turned to goo at the thought of kissing her. He had it bad for that beautifully bold woman, and again he grumbled, knowing that he could never disappear as he had before so long as he had Kagome in his life.

His fists clenched at his sides. His feelings for her were just one more log on the proverbial fire making his blood boil. He couldn't let Inutaisho get close to her, too. There was no way he would allow her brilliant flame to be snuffed out by the likes of that heartless man. He had to protect Kagome, but again, he didn't know how to do so without somehow giving his father exactly what he wanted.

Inuyasha flopped on the couch, draping an arm over his eyes. If he could curb his temper long enough to think through everything calmly and rationally, perhaps he would find a solution. After all, wasn't that one of his father's favorite lessons when it came to fighting? Focus, remain calm and be patient — the answer would come when the time was right. _'Yeah, cause patience is my forte.'_ He scoffed and then began to mutter again.

He inhaled sharply when he felt a weight settle next to him on the couch. He lifted his arm from his eyes and cracked one eye. Kagome had sat beside him and was smiling widely at him — the infectious grin that made him want to recite sonnets and sing because of the emotions it elicited. _'Keh!'_ As if he had ever been such a man …

He returned her happy expression before grabbing her by the arms and pulling her haphazardly onto his chest. His fingers toyed with the loose pieces of her braid. "What has you so happy?" he asked, feigning gruffness despite his smile.

"You," she said sweetly.

He felt a flush take his cheeks. "Keh, if you say so, woman," he dismissed and then closed his eyes in attempt to hide from her piercing brown eyes.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a few minutes, her presence easing his violent, chaotic thoughts on his life. It was part of what he adored about her; she gave him peace, even when he wanted to shout a resounding 'screw the world.' No, he couldn't ever give up Kagome, not to escape his father, not even if he ever decided to finish medical school. He sucked in a breath and pulled her tighter against him.

"Did you get a chance to speak with Kaede?" she finally broke the stillness.

"Yes."

"How did that go?"

He growled, releasing his hold on her before sitting up and forcing her off of him and onto the couch cushions beside him. "I would have gotten further screaming at a brick wall."

Kagome giggled, and the sound melted his anger a fraction. "You should know by now that yelling at Kaede never gets you anywhere. Did you try asking her nicely?"

Yash smirked. "You don't even know what I needed to talk to her about. How do you know I didn't ask her nicely?"

Her head shifted to the side with the most incredulous expression adorning her soft features. She arched both of her eyebrows, and he knew neither would come down until he admitted the truth. "Fine, I lost my temper," he grumbled. "But Kaede can be a real …"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Yash Narita," Kagome chastised. "I believe you once told me you were a gentleman, and yet, there are times when you have absolutely no manners."

"Keh!" Yash crossed his arms and immediately slouched into the couch, sulking.

He heard her wistful sigh and looked up when he felt the palm of her hand cup his cheek. Her thumb brushed the ridge of his cheekbone. "Well, maybe you can impress me with your manners by having supper with me tonight …" she let the thought trail off.

"Where do you want to go?" he mumbled the question.

"Un-uh," she negated. "I want to cook. It's been awhile since I've had access to a kitchen, and besides, until you've proven you can behave, I don't dare take you out in public," she teased.

Yash snorted. "I don't have a kitchen, Kagome. Please tell me all the times you've stayed at my place, you have noticed that fact." There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but it still earned him a playful smack. He grabbed her hand before she could withdraw and tugged on her arm, drawing her into his lap.

"Yes, I have noticed. I'm not oblivious," she countered. She rolled her eyes before continuing, "I was actually thinking we could go to Jaku."

Inuyasha withdrew a bit in shock. He cocked his head to the side, gauging whether she was being serious. They hadn't actually been there in days, not since he realized he had stalkers, and it had been a few days before that since she had rehearsed there instead of at the studio. It was time to go back, but a part of him did not want her getting attached to the place.

"Hmm, I think I've spoiled you," he started. "First my pool and now you want to take over the kitchen …"

Kagome scoffed. "Yash, when a woman asks to cook you dinner, the correct response should be an immediate and resounding 'yes.'" She poked him in the chest. "I think I'll just rescind the offer since …"

"No," he cut her off and then pressed his lips to hers, keeping them there until she ceased any attempts to speak and joined him in the kiss. Once their lips broke apart, Yash mumbled, "I would love for you to cook me dinner, and the location is your choice."

"I really think that is the nicest thing you've said in days." She kissed him this time, and Yash let gravity and her added weight slide them back into a laying position on the sofa. Both breathless, they finally released each other. "I was beginning to think you were still angry with me."

His brow furrowed. "Why would you think …?" He didn't finish the question, realizing that he had not been fooling her no matter how he tried to act as if nothing was wrong. His girl was astute, not obtuse. "I wasn't angry with you, Kagome. I've just had some things on my mind."

Her fingers toyed with his hair. "I hope someday you'll tell me when something is bothering you. I just —" She fidgeted "— you can talk to me, Yash."

He smiled at her offer. He really wished he could tell her so many things, but it was easier talking to Bank or Jak about his crappy past because he didn't have to fill in the back story. But when he really thought about it, it wasn't so much fear anymore that kept him from talking to Kagome about his past, but the fact that whenever anyone brought it up, it still felt like he was being smacked with a semi-truck at max speed. Thoughts of the past still tore him up inside; they still made him angry; and on impulse, he pushed everyone away. It was hard to piece his life together, when the pieces no longer fit.

"Let's get supper," he said instead of offering an answer to her pointed statement. "And you should rehearse in the pool tonight as well." Yash chuckled lightly. "We wouldn't want you to get all weak-ankled again."

Kagome stood first, taking his hand to help him off the couch. "That won't happen," she stated matter-of-factly. He loved how his girl could be so optimistic, even when — in reality — the cards were stacked against her.

"Oh?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Not with you in my cheering section, it won't." She shrugged. "As long as I have you, I feel like I can do anything." She reached down to pick up her bag, and he fought the urge to grin like an idiot.

"Hmph," he said gruffly in an attempt to hide his joy. He felt the same way about her; that he could do anything so long as he could hold her hand at the end of the day. He took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You're a sentimental wench," he finished pointedly. He hated emotional conversation, and if they kept going, he knew he was bound to say something sappy and embarrassing.

"And you're an insufferable baka," she countered playfully. She took his hand, locking her fingers with his. There was no doubt about her affection, and he loved every moment of it. It was later, when he was alone, that he would feel the sting of guilt at still being uncertain.

———

They had been followed. Every fiber of his body told him that his father's men were outside right then, watching him as if he were a child that needed constant supervision. Yash gritted his teeth, debating whether he should act, even with Kagome shuffling in the expanse of the kitchen behind him.

He turned away from the window, forcing a smile on his face; the expression quickly became genuine. She was unpacking all the food they had bought on their way to Jaku, placing some items into the refrigerator and the nonperishables on the island in the center of the room. The simple movements weren't what caused him to smile, however. It was the fact that she wasn't even familiar with the kitchen, and yet she moved with such grace, as if this was her home and as if she belonged to this extravagant place from his past. She reminded him of his mother. Izayoi was always at home no matter where she was.

He closed his eyes, forgetting the men stalking them in the shadows at the moment, and allowed an errant memory to come to the forefront of his mind. His mother had loved this kitchen. She had spent the better part of a summer having it remodeled to its current granite countertopped, cherry-stained cabinet glory. She had loved American décor, almost as much as she had loved American cuisine, and the room now resembled something out of the west instead of the traditional Japanese kitchen.

Once the kitchen was finished, she would often chase the cook out so that she could prepare the meals. His father hadn't been aware Izayoi was doing so, until the cook quit because of it. He didn't want her doing such things, and his mother had always relented to his father's will. Although, on rare occasions, Inuyasha would find her skittering through the kitchen the way Kagome was now, humming a tune and appearing completely at home.

"What are you smiling about?" Kagome's voice broke his reverie.

"Nothing," he started. "I just realized it has been a long time since this kitchen was used."

"Really?" Kagome stopped briefly, eyeing him with curiosity, before she went back to her methodical shuffle.

"Besides the cook, I mean," he corrected, shrugging. He sat down at one of the bar stools that lined the backside of the aisle. "The last person I remember banging around like this was my …" His voice trailed off. He hadn't meant to touch this subject. "My mother," he finished his thought. "She loved to cook."

"Is she a good cook?" Kagome asked without missing a beat, or at least not hinting that she had caught his falter. He knew she more than likely had, but to his relief, she was ignoring it. "My mother — I love her cooking. There's nothing like going home for supper after a bad day. She always just knows what I need."

"It's a mom's sixth sense," he started, inwardly debating whether to continue this course of conversation. He really did not want to talk about his family, but for some reason, Izayoi felt like a safe topic. There was nothing there that made him want to cringe in shame. Her memories made him sad, but never angry. "My mother always knew what I needed, even before I knew something was wrong." He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his finger.

"My mom is the same way," Kagome started. The sounds of burners igniting and pans clanking greeted his ears. "Always cheerful and happy, caring, selfless in a way." She sighed. "There was a time I hated it — after my dad died."

He lifted his chin, staring at her back, but wishing he could see her face. "Your dad died?" he questioned. She had never mentioned him before; in fact, he could only remember her mentioning her mother, grandfather and her younger brother. A part of him had assumed it was because they had issues, or they weren't close, like his relationship with Inutaisho. It made sense to him, but apparently he had been way off the mark.

"Uh-huh," her soft voice came. It was echoed by a sizzle as she dropped something into the frying pan. He couldn't see what, only the movement of her slender arms. "When I was a girl."

He swallowed hard. "How did he die?"

His doe-eyed angel snuck a peek over her shoulder. There was sadness in her eyes, but nothing devastating. "A plane crash. Souta doesn't really remember him," she answered and then returned her attention to her cooking. "After he died, my mom sort of fell to pieces, and we went to live with my grandfather at the Sunset Shrine. I remember the sadness, crying endlessly, but my sense of time is always cloudy following his death. I remember things, but not in order." She paused, shuffling the items in the pan. "Anyway, I remember coming home from school one day and my mother had reverted back to her happy self as if nothing was wrong. I ignored it for awhile, avoided her even. I — I remember being really angry with her, hating her for being happy, and then, one night at supper, I had enough. I started screaming at her and accusing her of not really loving my father."

Inuyasha subconsciously scooted to the edge of the stool. "What happened then?" he asked, afraid and curious all at once. His father had never behaved in such a way. Inutaisho had shown no emotion that he could remember when Izayoi died; he had always seemed fine with her passing, and it was one of the many reasons why he hated his father. And, here his girl was hating her mother for being happy as well.

"She started crying uncontrollably," Kagome continued. Her shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh. "I instantly regretted shouting at her. I hated seeing my mother cry, because she had always been so loving and happy, and then, when he died, I just wanted everyone to be miserable like me. I — I ran upstairs to my room and locked the door after that, too afraid to face my mother." Kagome turned away from the stove and after riffling through several cabinets, she found a pot.

"But you did eventually face her?" he asked while she worked.

"Oh, yes." She filled the silver pot with water and placed it on the largest burner at the rear of the range. "The next day in fact." She grabbed the spatula, flipping whatever she had thrown into the skillet. "I told her that I hated her for being happy." She set down the cooking utensil, before joining him at the island.

He gazed intently at her, entrance by their conversation. "What did she say to that?" he wondered aloud.

Her tongue swept out across her lower lip, before she let out a nervous laugh, which intrigued him more. "She told me that she couldn't cry forever, that she loved my father, but since she had not died with him, she had to live for us — Souta and me. At the time, I didn't really understand it, but now I think I do, especially after my accident and everything that's happened to me."

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the granite top. She was absolutely amazing, and he hadn't missed that fact on a day-to-day basis, but he had definitely missed an extremely beautiful facet of her soul. How could she be so loving after losing her father, after feeling hate, after her accident? What had someone so young learned that he had failed to miss? "Kagome, what — what was it that you learned?" His eyebrows narrowed; he could feel the creases forming on his forehead the harder he tried to unravel this enigma.

She reached across the island, and with two fingers, she brushed his forehead. The soft touch forced him to relax his brow. She giggled as the lines slowly smoothed away, and then pulled her hand away. Her serious expression returned. "I learned that life has a way of ripping you apart, and that when you put the pieces back together, you're never the same."

"But what if those pieces don't come back together?" he immediately asked.

"They always come back together, just not always in the way we want or expect."

He had not anticipated that answer, and he really couldn't see how it was true. His life hadn't pieced back together; he hadn't found any magic, golden roads that would take him to a happier place. He wasn't as angry as he used to be, but he wasn't exactly living either. Inuyasha took his days one at a time, dealt with the chaos hour-by-hour. He had no plans for the future, but he wanted them.

And that's when it hit him, like a semi-truck out of nowhere. He was piecing his life back together, just not in any resemblance to his old life. He had scaled back on the drinking; he had let Kagome into his life; he had even started to let Kaede back in; and he was opening up to ideas that before meeting Kagome he would have just cursed about and said 'no.' Maybe he had found the glue that would keep those pieces together. But, what if he didn't like the way the pieces came together and he ripped them apart before he ever saw the bigger picture? He was good at that, after all, and the future scared him as much as the past had destroyed him.

Kagome pulled a knife from the cutlery block, grabbed a cutting board and went back toward the stove. She grabbed several carrots and mushrooms, but aside from that, he still had not figured out what she was cooking; it smelled delicious. He opened his mouth to ask, but she was quicker.

"Are you and your mom still close?" she asked, and he cringed. "You don't really talk about your family much."

'_Damn.'_ His girl was observant. "My mom died, actually," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Kagome spun around to face him. Her chopping knife was brandished at chest level, and had it not been for the sympathetic expression on her face, she would have reminded him of some bad horror movie where the victim went for the kitchen cutlery.

The image caused a laugh, lightening his heavy heart. "Don't worry about it, Kagome. It was a long time ago."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

That was one of the things he adored about her. She always treaded lightly on the difficult subjects, only ever pushing hard enough to let him know she was there to talk if he needed her — if she pushed at all.

"Not really. It was a long time ago, as I said," he dismissed.

"Hmm," she acknowledged, but didn't pursue. "I'm here if you want to talk about her, though," she amended. "Or about anything,_ or anyone_ else."

'_Crafty.'_ And yet, her offer was not dismissed. Instead, he filed it away with the rest of the good things that had come into his life since Kagome. Little by little, he would have to face his broken puzzle pieces, and each time he put one together, he knew he wanted to share that little picture with her.

Yash stood up and crossed the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around the cook and nuzzled his nose into the side of her hair. He inhaled her scent deeply; his eyes were closed as he savored the moment. When he opened them, she was removing several tempura vegetables and putting them on a plate next to two omelets._ 'When had she made those?' _He really needed to start paying more attention to things.

There was actually a time when nothing would have escaped his notice, and he blamed it on the year and half he had spent floating through life in a haze. But that was changing — and he knew that was yet another piece that had come back together since meeting her.

"Omelets and tempura?"

"Just to start," she said quickly. She turned her head; her lips nipped at his earlobe. "I'm going to make ramen, since I know you like it, and yakitori, too." Her lips skimmed his neck.

"You're spoiling me, woman," he confessed. With a growl, he nuzzled back against her throat and began to place soft, wet kisses along her throat. The dancer's arms stilled as she lost focus on the food. He smirked, pleased that he was distracting her, and continued with his intimate caresses.

"Yash, I need to finish cooking," she whispered, writhing slightly under his touch.

He kissed her one more time on the cheek and pulled away. "Keh, if you must." He pretended to be put-out as he snatched one of the battered vegetables. It crunched nicely in his mouth.

"Hey!" Kagome swatted at him with the spatula. "Back off, Mr. Narita."

Yash took a step back, laughing at her fiery temper. He threw his hands up to placate the woman guarding her skillet. "All right, all right, I'll wait, crazy wench."

She spun around, shooting him a warning glance as he backed off. His laughter rose to a roar, ceasing seconds later when he caught a flash of light off the pot. Reflexively, he turned to look at the window and growled. He had forgotten about his shadows, distracted by his conversation and time with Kagome. Every time he started to relax, the idiots did something to interrupt his peace.

No one was in the window at the moment, but the flash of light was all too familiar. He knew they were there, and he knew what they had just done — stolen a private moment to show his father. He was done; he had had enough; and Kami help him, the stalking ended tonight.

"Yash?" He returned his eyes to Kagome, catching her worried expression. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. He shifted his weight as he quickly thought up an excuse. "Kagome, I need to go check something. I'll be back in a few minutes, all right?"

"Sure," she said uncertainly.

He didn't wait for her to say more. With determination, he marched out of the kitchen and into the main section of the house, heading for the back door. The kitchen had an exterior door, but then they would see him coming. And, he wanted to surprise them. He flexed his knuckles cracking them just before slipping out the rear and into the shadowed expanse of the gardens.

Yash crept slowly along the outer wall of the house toward the side of the house near the kitchen. He paused at the juncture of the walls, just inside the shadows. The light from the kitchen illuminated the grounds. He could see nothing along the shrub line, and the rest of the area was the open space of a manicured lawn that slopped down toward the koi pond. It was the only area of the grounds that wasn't designed with perfect walking paths and shrubs.

That meant whoever was following him tonight had to be hidden amongst the vegetation at the far side. He waited, almost giving up on catching the man tonight when he hadn't caught any movement. With an aggravated sigh, he turned to head back the way he came, but as he did, his eyes caught a shift in the darkness. Whoever it was had heard the sound and reacted. Yash smirked, a devilish expression. He really felt like killing the jerk for intruding, but the voice of reason reminded him to be civilized in his approach.

He stepped out of the shadows and into the open area, walking casually across the yard. He paused halfway. "I'll give you two options," he said darkly. "You can come out, and I'll only break your camera, or you can keep slinking in the shadows like a pervert, and I can break your face, asshole."

Yash heard the rustle of the plants and a whimper that he knew all too well. He rolled his eyes and exhaled in exasperation as the round form slowly emerged from behind a tree.

"Master Inuyasha, w-what a pleasant surprise," the higher pitched voiced expelled. He really wanted to pop the old man.

"Cut the crap, blood sucker," he growled out. "And give me the camera." He took a few steps toward his father's lackey. He could see his short form trembling in the low light. _'Coward.'_

"W-what camera?" Myoga asked. His arms shifted behind his back.

Yash practically snarled as he cut the distance and grabbed the front of Myoga's shirt. "The one behind your back, old man." He pulled up on the fabric, forcing the man on his toes. A moment later, there was a thump as something hit the ground. He shoved his stalker out of the way, and then picked up the item he had dropped. "No camera, huh?" he said tersely.

"Please, Master Inuyasha, I was only doing as your father requested," Myoga pleaded.

Yash blindly ran his hands along the camera body, searching for the covered digital port. "Oh, I'm well aware of what my father requested, you stupid flea," he growled back. Finding what he was looking for, he thumbed the port open and released the card. He pocketed it and then haphazardly threw the camera back at Myoga.

The other man squawked as he tried to catch it before it hit the ground again. It bounced twice in his hands before he got a handle on it. "He's just…"

"I don't give a shit what 'he's just' trying to do!" Yash yelled, advancing on the man again until he was backed against the tree. "But, I do have a message for the prick." Myoga whimpered; the sound grated on Inuyasha. "You tell my father to leave me the hell alone, stop following me and to stay the hell away from my girl, or the next time, I won't just take the damn card from your camera, Myoga. You got that?"

"Y-y-yes," the old man stammered out.

He leaned forward, getting into Myoga's face. He had one more threat to issue; one he was sure his father would love. "And if he even tries to contact me again ..."

"Yash?"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He loosened his grip on Myoga slightly. With a forced smile, he turned to look over his shoulder at the young woman standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen. "Yes, Kagome," he said as sweetly as he could muster. Her beautiful eyes were wide and staring at him as if he were demon.

"Is everything … I mean … Um, is there a problem?" she faltered.

"None whatsoever. I was just saying hello to an old friend," he justified, and then released Myoga completely, but not before shoving him one last time.

"Okay." She drew the word out, making it four syllables instead of two. "Would your friend like to join us for supper?"

Yash bristled, but kept the forced smile playing across his lips. "Actually, Myoga was just leaving, Kagome. Weren't you, Myoga?"

"Um, y-yes, of course, Master Inuyasha," the older man stammered out. He scooted away from Yash as quickly as possible without being suspicious. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kagome," he finished and then darted off into the darkness as if every evil creature of mythology was about to devour him.

The bouncer watched him go, slightly pleased at finally being able to indirectly tell his father off. "Keh, asshole," he said softly.

"Yash Narita!" The sharp edge of her voice destroyed any sense of satisfaction. "What was that about?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," she said curtly and then spun around and disappeared into the yellow light of the kitchen.

He cringed, hating that incredulous tone, and knowing she was going to stew in what she just witnessed until he explained. Yet, Yash had no intention of explaining; this incident touched a little too close to home still.

"Fuck," he muttered again. "There goes the night."

———

_Author's Note:_

_**First: **__I wanted to thank everyone for the reviews. Chapter twenty, between FF, ED and MM received, by far, the most reviews of any other chapter and that was within two days of posting. So, I just wanted to make sure you guys know how much I appreciate your thoughts and constructive feedback. It really does mean a lot to me, even if I'm not a very vocal author. You are appreciated._

_**Second:**__ Kaede's accent has changed. Did you notice? Well, you guys spoke and I have listened. I'm smoothing out the speech pattern, and actually have edited throughout already. I just haven't reposted those chapters._

_**Third:**__ I've started a Live Journal account in preparation of taking down my Web site. I don't have time to keep it up. However, the LJ account is going to be solely for my original work: poetry, writing exercises, short stories, fiction etc. All of it is friends only for security purposes (since it is original work and all), but if you'd like to read it, the username is the same and you can send me a friend request._

_**Finally:**__ I am looking for one more beta to help with PW and for additional stories. This wouldn't be strenuous work because I don't post often, but I would like at least one more beta on board with this project and others I have in the works. Also, I'm a professional editor, and so I'm really looking for someone who is as passionate about language as I am, but who also picks up on my glitches. I know exactly where my weak points are in my writing — the mistakes I routinely make, not because I don't know the difference but because my brain 'tunes' them out in my copy. (Most frustrating) So, if you would like to be considered, pm me and we can discuss it. Oh, and major bonus points if you can name me at least one of my major 'quirks.'_


	22. Searching for Puzzle Pieces

_For Sassy._

_Disclaimer: Copyright of Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I do not own it or 'The Princess and the Warrior,' an awesome German film, of which the title (not the story) is pulled from. This is merely for my amusement and the amusement of my readers._

_Special thanks to Ai Kisugi and Karaumea for serving as my betas for 'The Princess and the Warrior.'_

_Author's notes below._

**~*~*~**

**The Princess and the Warrior  
Chapter Twenty-Two: Searching for Puzzle Pieces**

The city had already begun to come alive in the hours that fringed the start of the morning rush. Kagome knew she looked bizarre in her kitty pajamas and puppy slippers while standing next to the suits, who were getting an early start to the day. But, their opinions were not her concern this morning.

After dinner with Yash at Jaku — a dinner that went well until he had attacked an old man in the backyard — she had returned home still upset that he had locked up completely and refused to answer any of her questions. She had tried to respect his privacy the entire time she had known him, no matter how much it hurt to know that he kept secrets from her. It was just who he was, but she thought as they grew closer, he would share those parts of his life that had damaged his soul.

She growled in frustration, earning several startled glances from the people marching down the sidewalk beside her. Slightly embarrassed, she offered an apologetic smile. Her hands tightened on the two cups of green tea she was juggling as she veered to the edge of the thickening mass of bodies. She shoved a cup between her arm and her torso, pinning it there while she yanked open the front entrance of an apartment building.

She climbed the steps up to the third floor and blew through the stairwell door with a bang. It was too early for such a commotion, but Kagome was mentally on fire. She needed to vent and for that, she needed her best friend. A half hour earlier, Kagome had given up trying to sleep with the mental barrage of 'what-ifs' keeping her awake and headed to Miroku's apartment, where she was sure to find his fiancée.

Kagome stopped in front of his door and pounded mercilessly against the barrier. The puppy shaped footwear bounced up and down as she impatiently waited. Thirty seconds was all she gave before she beat the door again.

"Sango," Kagome yelled, giving the door yet another rap. "Sango!"

The door opened quickly, and the dancer jumped back, almost losing both cups of tea.

"Kagome, what in the name of Buddha?" Miroku asked. He was dressed in a pair of black pajama bottoms; his hair was messy; and his fist rubbed at his tired eyes. If he had been a bit more awake, she was sure her friend would have killed her for disturbing him and Sango at such an unholy hour. Looking past his disheveled form, she spotted Sango, who looked just as rumpled.

"Kagome?" Sango's groggy voice greeted her.

"Sorry, Miroku," the dancer said. She quickly skirted past him and into the dark apartment. "You didn't answer your phone." She thrust a cup toward Sango when she reached the other woman.

"It's not even dawn," the fighter replied as she took the proffered container.

At the sound of the door shutting, Kagome turned around. The room fell back into darkness with the barrier closed against the hallway light. She offered Miroku the second cup, which he hesitantly took.

"You didn't answer your phone, and I really needed to talk to you, Sango," Kagome continued. A part of her felt guilty over rousting them so early, but they were both typically early risers and up within the hour anyway — at least that was what she kept telling herself. She bit her lip at the awkwardness of her next request. "Alone." She gave Miroku a pleading, yet apologetic smile.

The medical student shifted in his stance. "I'll just be …" He gestured to the bathroom, and awkwardly added, "Shower." He shuffled through the darkened room, bumping into an end table beside the couch. He flipped on the bathroom light before he disappeared from Kagome's view when the door shut behind him.

Kagome waited until the door was close and then reached over to turn on a lamp. "I really am sorry, Sango," she started again. The dancer grabbed the other woman's hand and pulled her onto the couch to sit beside her. "But it's important, and I didn't know who else to talk to, and well, it's just …"

"Slow down, Kagome," Sango placated. She squeezed the younger woman's hand. "What is this about?" She then sipped her tea.

The ballerina took a deep breath. "Yash," she said, calmly this time.

Sango's eyes widened. She choked on the beverage, startling the younger woman. "You didn't …?" the fighter hedged. "Because I was _just_ teasing you when we were at the restaurant."

"No! No!" Kagome answered quickly, realizing the reason behind her friend's discourse. "Nothing like that. It's just …" She paused, searching for the words to describe the incredibly odd display she happened upon at Jaku and his behavior since they had met. She could always tell when something was off because he fidgeted endlessly and got upset; however, he refused to address what was bothering him and Jaku had been the final straw. His secrets were beginning to hinder their relationship. "I think he's keeping things from me," she stated. It was, after all, the boiled down explanation of a complex situation, which she was determined to resolve.

A well-groomed brow rose above Sango's tired eyes. "He's _lying_ to you?" she said curtly.

"No, no, he's not _lying_." Kagome immediately tried to pacify, waving her hands in a calming gesture. As protective as the woman was of her, it wouldn't take much to give the fighter a reason to challenge Yash and subsequently beat him into a bloody pulp if she felt he was wronging her best friend. Although on some level, Sango's word choice was closer to the truth than what Kagome wanted to call it; the word still didn't fit quite right. "It's just … It's really not …. I don't know how to explain this to you. It's complicated," Kagome prefaced.

"I don't see how 'keeping things from you' isn't _lying_ or how it is _complicated_." The fighter snorted with indignation. "You shouldn't let him or any other man treat you like that."

Kagome gritted her teeth. Sango could be completely black and white at times, forgoing the shades of gray that often colored every human's existence. Even Miroku was a rainbow of complexity, and she put up with his lecherous groping of her backside when they first met — mostly. Besides, it wasn't as if Yash was flat out lying to her — at least she didn't think so — which was why she was hesitant to word her concerns in exactly that fashion.

"It just _is_ complicated, Sango, and I don't even know where to begin with this sordid mess. He's not being malicious. He's just … he's not trying to be cruel or mistreat me. He's … I don't know!" She threw her hands up in the air, at a loss for words. However, she wasn't giving up. It was not in her nature, no matter how often the odds were stacked against her, and she definitely didn't want to give up on Yash. He was the inspiration for so much in her life now.

Sango's lips pursed to form an irritated frown and a low growl — usually reserved for when Miroku upset her — permeated from her chest. "Make it uncomplicated, Kagome," she ordered. "Spell it out for me, because until you do, I'm not sure I want to meet him with Kohaku this afternoon." Her hand holding the tea gestured wildly, causing some of the liquid to slosh out the small hole in the plastic lid and onto the fighter's hand. The woman scoffed and the cup exchanged hands while she waved the other to remove the offending fluid.

Kagome cringed while Sango's attention was on the cup of tea that had tried to assault her. It had been awhile since the dancer had seen her irritated, but at least the fighter's agitation was contained. Their arguments always had the potential of becoming heated, but Sango had been keeping her judgments and frustrations when it came to Kagome's relationship with Yash to a minimum since Sango had found her crying in their dorm room. As much as Kagome appreciated the other woman's emotional control, a part of the dancer wished she could borrow some of her best friend's resolve — especially now, when she felt like she was stuck in a series of repeating pirouettes that would never end. She had thought she had found the spotting point that would help keep her in balance while she spun, but now she was having trouble just remembering to breathe.

She closed her eyes, trying to find the focus to explain the dizzy world she was now stumbling through. "He avoids certain subjects — namely his past," she began to explain. "Anything to do with his family, really. Kaede won't tell me anything out of respect for his privacy. Bank told me he lost someone, but I'm afraid to ask Yash about it because his friend made it pretty clear that he'd get upset. He has an unreasonable hatred for the Takahashi family, and he gave me some story about how he used to train with Mr. Takahashi when he was a kid when he blew up at me and …"

"Wait, wait," Sango cut in. "He blew up at you and then told you that he actually trained with the elder Takahashi, as in Judo, martial arts?"

"Um, yes?" Kagome responded, puzzled by the question. She had no reason to doubt his story, although she did feel he was leaving out pertinent information in the telling. "Is that odd?"

Kagome watched Sango's expression morph into something between anger and puzzlement. "Yes and no. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened and what he said?"

The dancer fidgeted with the hem of her shirt while she thought. Overall, that had been an extremely bizarre day with off the chart highs and lows for her. "Well," she started, and for the next five minutes, Kagome explained in detail the events of that day to Sango. Everything from arriving at the studio, to meeting Inutaisho Takahashi, to completing her routine flawlessly, to going to the club, his bizarre behavior, the screaming match, her storming home, and then his arrival at the dorm in the middle of the night with this vague excuse as to why he hated the Takahashi family. Like any truth, it was a one-sided point of view, and she was convinced there was more to it, but his excuse was also what led her here to ask for Sango's help. As someone involved in the fighting world, Sango might be able to find the answers she needed in ways Kagome could not. "What do you think?" she concluded.

"Hmm, if he were my man, I would have put the fear of the Kami in him, and not let him off the hook so easily," Sango said tersely. "However, to your original question, in all of my years fighting, and what I've seen at the tournaments, Mr. Takahashi never worked with other fighters. _But_, his status as a Narita may have garnered some favor. It could be that he just never tournament fought, which would explain why I've never heard of him."

"No," Kagome insisted. "I remember Yash saying he used to fight, tournaments, all of it, and he never liked it. But, that really is just a piece of the puzzle, Sango, and I get the feeling I'm missing the big picture of who he really is."

"Kagome, I'll always be there to support you." Sango took her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. "But I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't ask you this." The fighter paused again, taking a breath before she asked in a serious tone, "Does the big picture matter if he's _lying_ to you?"

Kagome ignored Sango's insistence at using that word, and instead, she thought about her relationship with the bouncer. Would a broader perspective of who Yash Narita was change how she felt about him? Would it change everything he had done for her — selflessly? He didn't have to take her to Kaede, take her to Jaku or generally shine a light on her life. He cared for her, and a part of her believed that he may even love her. She had already accepted the fact that he filled the void within her unlike anyone else before. She did love him, which was why his avoidance hurt. She wanted to know him, all of him, and help piece him back together in the hopes that he could find a bit of happiness as well.

"No," she finally answered, definitive in her response and resolved to keep it no matter what she may find out. "But, I still need to know what he's keeping from me, and if he isn't going to be forthcoming, then I'm just going to have to do what I must to get my answers." She fell silent, hating how selfish she felt at opting to dig into his life. She _needed_ answers, but she also needed the information if she was ever going to give him what he needed in life.

"How can I help you, then?" Sango offered.

Kagome sucked in a sharp breath, hissing a bit as she did as if she had been wounded. It was not the question that had elicited a sense of pain from the younger woman. She had come to Sango specifically to ask for her help, and the dancer was grateful to have her best friend in her corner. However, a piece of her felt guilty for what she was about to request — not because she was asking something of Sango, but because she knew she was about to ask her best friend to invade the privacy of the man the dancer loved.

"I want you to find out all you can on Yash Narita, as a fighter," she said after considering her options for a moment and almost deciding not to pursue this course. "Maybe ask your coach or some of the other fighters you are acquainted with? If he trained with Mr. Takahashi, someone would know something about him, wouldn't they?"

"You really think the key to your mysterious bouncer is there?" Sango set her cup of tea on the end table and then leaned closer to Kagome, as if to focus her attention entirely on the next exchange.

"Well, it's a good starting point. He loves fighting, and you've said yourself that the Naritas and Takahashis are connected. And, I really don't know what else to do." Kagome gnawed her lower lip with her teeth, toying with the soft tissue as she thought. "Oh, um, if it helps, his full name is actually Inuyasha. I noticed Kaede calls him that a lot, and Mr. Takahashi referred to him by his full name as well as the man at Jaku last night." The fighter sat back abruptly, startling Kagome with the sudden movement.

"Inuyasha? His name is Inu … yasha?" her friend queried.

"Yes." The ballet student responded. "Do you recognize his full name?"

"Maybe. It does sound vaguely familiar."

"Really?" Kagome couldn't help the measure of hope that tingled into excitement. Perhaps, she would find some answers to help fill in the blank portals in Yash's puzzling portrait.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure where I've heard it." Sango picked her cup back up and then downed a good portion of the cooling tea before returning the cup to its previous placement. "Maybe I'll recognize him when I finally meet him this afternoon."

"You're still going to come, then? With Kohaku?" Kagome asked, hopeful. She was almost afraid to initiate this conversation with Sango out of fear that the woman would back out. And, she really believed that Yash working with Kohaku would benefit both the student and the teacher.

The fighter sighed. "Yes, although I have to admit that I don't trust your boyfriend in the slightest — especially if you think he's keeping stuff from you. That really doesn't build a trusting relationship anymore than the recon you're asking me to do on him."

"I'm fairly certain I'm crossing about ten lines with him but I'm frustrated with his skittish behavior and the avoidance." She dropped her chin to stare at her hands. "He means a lot to me, and I'm just afraid that if I let this continue, I'll lose him." She found her best friend's face again. "He's really very sweet, protective, passionate, and there are times that he reminds me of a lost little boy."

Sango scoffed. "I have a lost little boy in the shower right now. I think it is common with the XY chromosome."

"You're rather harsh sometimes." Kagome laughed. It felt cathartic after the hours of sleepless tossing she had done prior to rushing over to Miroku's apartment. She needed a good laugh to help escape the uncertainty and the tinge of fear that she could lose Yash because of this new course of action. She couldn't and wouldn't think like a melodramatic prima donna. She would keep faith and trust the Kami that she was alive for a reason and hope that her chosen path was the right one.

"Well, that's what happens when you are raised by a man, have a younger brother, have 'Miroku,' and grew up competing in a traditionally male sport," Sango countered. Her hand rose up quickly to stifle a yawn as it began to escape. "Excuse me."

Kagome grimaced, once more feeling guilty about forcing her best friend out of bed at such an early hour. She would have to make it up to Sango and Miroku when she finally made it past her audition. "True, at least I had mama to balance the testosterone at the shrine," she continued their train of conversation, immediately feeling guiltier — if that was even possible — when she mentioned her mother.

Kagome had missed far too many phone conversations and suppers at home since she had started training for the workshop. She missed mama's cooking and her overprotective little brother. She even missed Ojiisan's ridiculous stories, to the point that she couldn't imagine not having a family to fall back upon when her heart and soul needed a gentle hug.

"When's the last time you spoke to them?" Sango asked, interrupting Kagome's train of thought.

"A few days ago, but the conversations are always brief, in passing. I promised mama I would come home after the audition." She swallowed thickly. "I still haven't told her about my scholarship. She'll be so disappointed. She really wanted me to finish school, even more so since the accident. They've always been there to support me, though, like you, and I just cannot imagine not having them in my life." Kagome leaned her head against the back of the couch, closing her tired eyes. "Maybe that's why I don't understand why Yash won't talk to me about his family or his life before we met when mine have defined me so much."

Sango shifted slightly in her seat. "Not everyone is an open book; some people are afraid to be read or let anyone get past the cover for fear that they'll dislike the story. I still think he's a jerk for keeping things from you, but I cannot ignore how happy you otherwise have been the last two months."

"I am happy." A minute smile edged the corner of Kagome's lips. "He makes me feel blissfully happy, most of the time." She opened her eyes. "I'm afraid, though."

"Of?" The fighter took another long drink off her tea.

"What anyone is afraid of," she stated simply. "Of losing the one we care about the most. Is it strange that the longer I'm around him, the more that the audition, school and working as a prima all feel trivial to the way I feel when I'm with him?"

Sango closed her eyes, sealing off any true reading for Kagome of the other woman's thoughts on the matter. When she opened them again, the dancer felt relieved to see the honest, understanding sympathy that had been always present between the two friends. Kagome had missed that connection. She had forsaken it since Yash had come into her life.

"Kags, I know I'm hard on you sometimes, and when you first met Yash, I didn't like him because I saw how much he changed you — almost immediately. You have a habit of making the things you care about your whole world, and dancing has been that world for most of your life." The fighter paused, lowering her eyes to stare absently at her hands. "I thought if I was hard on you that you would let whatever you have with him go and return to your passion before he had stolen your chances. But, seeing how much Yash has changed you, I cannot say that his presence in your life is a bad thing or that it's even a bad thing that you are starting to consider your prior dreams trivial. I do know that if Miroku asked me to give up fighting for the sake of us having a future together that I would, because when I have him, everything else that is wrong in my life feels miniscule in comparison to the happiness he brings me. So, if having Yash in your life really outweighs everything else and you can say without a doubt that in twenty years you'll look back and not feel regret, then I really cannot say much more than that I only wish for your happiness — no matter how you find it."

"Thank you, Sango," Kagome said after several moments of silence. Hearing the water turn off, she took it as her signal that it was time to leave. She stood up, hugging Sango when the older woman joined her on her feet. "I feel a lot better now," Kagome whispered into her hair. She pulled away, offering a sleepy smile now that her raw energy had abated. "I've missed having you around."

"I'm always around, Kagome. Even after Miroku and I get married, I'll always be here." She laughed gently, barely letting the sound escape past her lips. "However, in the future, I think I'd prefer you waiting until after daybreak."

Kagome shrugged a bit sheepishly. "I really am sorry about the hour, Sango." Kagome pulled further away, letting their arms slip apart but squeezing her best friend's before all contact was severed.

"We'll survive," the fighter assuaged.

"Good, because I was thinking that after the audition — and since I haven't been home in awhile — that we could all have dinner at the shrine to celebrate your engagement and me making the workshop. I'm sure mamma would love to have us all for supper, and she really wants to meet Yash."

The girls walked toward the door. "I like your optimism and I think that's a great idea. In the meantime, I'll look into what you've asked me, and …"

Kagome gave her a puzzled expression as Sango's voice trailed off. The woman's brow knitted the way it always did when she was contemplating something. "Sango?"

"Kags," the fighter started hesitantly. "Have you received any viable calls about your ad?"

The young woman shook her head; this was an unexpected turn of conversation. "A handful. Most of the calls are still guys looking for a date, but I've had a few that were helpful. Why?"

"Just a thought, but um, what did they tell you?" the other woman pushed.

Kagome fidgeted nervously, wondering where she was going with the line of questioning. "Of the four calls I received, they all remember the accident and they all remember the man; however, no one knew his name, only that they are fairly certain that he lives in the neighborhood."

"I was just thinking about what you said — that he's keeping things from you — and then I remembered that you thought he was the one that pulled you from the car." Sango bit her lip. "Kagome, you do realize that Yash lives in that neighborhood."

It was something that had crossed her mind more and more, even with all the doubts and her desire to take him at his word. "I know, Sango." She just couldn't understand why he would lie to her about it because his denial about the accident would have been a flat out lie. "I just don't know for sure that it _is_ him. He insists that he isn't."

"And if it is him?" Sango opened the door. The light permeating the portal from the hallway haloed them.

"Then, I'll have one more reason to love him once I know why he lied." Kagome paused, stifling the passing frustration surrounding the entire affair. She had actually let the vein of thought that he did save her life go after her last conversation with the fighter, and now, Sango's question added one more 'what-if' to the series already flowing through her mind. "I'll see you this afternoon," she finished absently.

Kagome registered her friend's murmured farewell as she stepped out into the hallway. She turned to wave quickly before she heard the door shut behind her. Now, standing alone, in the illuminated passageway, the gentle comfort of her friend's presence began to subside. Her raw nerves reemerged. Having Sango's help was just one step in unraveling the enigma that was Yash Narita. She only hoped that when the puzzle of his life was solved, he would remain for her to love.

~*~*~*

_Author's Notes: Slow? Yeah, I know, but real life takes precedence._

_Some quick thank yous for those that voted for this story for the last quarter of IYFG. PW received first in the best Inu/Kag romance category, and is nominated for the current quarter for Best Character: Inuyasha. And, although I've mentioned stuff like that isn't why I write in the first place, I really do appreciate the support I receive through reviews, through alerts and favorites, and even through your votes. You guys really are appreciated._


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