Home Invasion by Chie

Chapter 1

A/N Rated M for some violence.

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Kagome blinked at the ceiling of her room, her eyelids heavy. Sleep still swirled in her mind, muffling it like a woollen blanket. Tired, she turned her head to see the alarm clock on her nightstand. She frowned at it in a bleary confusion, taking a moment to make sense of the numbers as the half-moon shone through her window, gilding her room in silver.  

2.37 am. 

Though sluggish, she had no memory of any kind of a dream, pleasant or not, that would have jolted her out of sweet sleep. So why was she awake? Insomnia hadn’t bothered her for years. Not since she’s accepted her fate and settled back into life in the modern era. Even the nightmares, which had plagued her long after, had eased away in the past year. 

In the utter stillness of the dark night, there was a sound. 

Kagome froze, straining her ears that rang with the silence. Was that what had woken her up? 

She relaxed back against her pillow. It was probably just Buyo, she told herself, burrowing deeper under the blanket, letting her eyes fall shut as something that sounded a lot like the shuffle of footsteps came from downstairs. Or grandpa. Grandpa didn’t sleep much and he was always up at odd hours and he—

He wasn’t home. 

Kagome’s eyes flew open, wide with terror. She sat up in her bed, the comforting warmth of her blanket falling off her shoulders. Gooseflesh broke out over her skin, the hairs at the back of her neck stood at attention. Her heart slammed a fast, painful rhythm in her chest, climbing up her throat as the breath was frozen in her lungs. 

Her family was off in Hokkaido. They’d be gone all week, getting to know the family of the girl Souta had met in university. Kagome had promised to look after the shrine and Buyo while they were away.

She was home alone. And someone was in her house.

Ice spread in her veins. Fear squeezed at her throat and for a moment Kagome sat there, unable to move as the two most primal human instincts warred inside her until one of them won. 

She turned sideways in the bed, slid her feet from under her blanket and soundlessly set them on the floor. She got up, shoulders hunched to make herself small, ears pricked to catch the smallest sound as she tiptoed across the room. 

She held her breath as she turned the door handle, her palm sweaty against the metal as she prayed the click of the door opening would be soft, that the hinges wouldn’t creak. Noiselessly, she slipped from the crack of the opened door into the hallway. The next door down, to Souta’s room, was ajar. As the footsteps shuffled again, somewhere below, Kagome snuck into Souta’s bedroom. She rummaged through it in the dark, her movements swift and jerky, spurred by fear. It took her a while to find what she was looking for, but when she did, when her fingers curled around the warm wood, her breathing evened and the fear slithered away, leaving behind pure, absolute calm.

She’d feel even better with her trusty bow but she’d left it at the bottom of the well and never had the heart to go back to get it. 

Outside there was a creak. Kagome’s heart slammed against her ribs, hard enough to bruise. On the stairs now, she thought, her thoughts cool and calculating. Coming upstairs, whoever it was.

Moving as slowly and silently as she could, Kagome crossed the room. Flattened herself against the wall right by the door, still ajar. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she willed herself to still, for her breath to slow and quieten. But not loud enough to drown out the footsteps, trailing closer. 

Kagome shifted her grip. She raised her arms, elbows up.

One step. Another. Right on the other side of the wall now. She could feel the foreign presence, ominous and looming. Tension coiled in her muscles like a spring wound up too tight. 

One more step. 

Slowly, silently, the door beside her swung open. And someone — something — stepped into the doorway.

Kagome pivoted on her foot, her body turning, putting her whole weight into the swing. Souta’s baseball bat met the solid form of the intruder with a sickening crunch. Something hot splattered Kagome’s cheek as she heard a strangled groan. 

Blood, perhaps, but Kagome didn’t have the time to worry about it, because the stranger was still standing. 

The knees, she thought, changing the direction of her second swing. Another solid blow to the side of his right knee. It had to be a he, she’d decided, given how tall the figure was, the deep voice of the groan. And how well he was able to withstand her assault. 

Too well.

His right leg wavered but didn’t buckle. He remained upright. And the murderous intent simmering in the air had Kagome’s stomach plummet, even as she brought the baseball bat up again for the third time. 

This time, the bat didn’t land where she intended it to. With a resounding thwack, it met the palm of the intruder in the air. His large hand curled around it, yanked it out of her grip.

Too strong. Kagome trembled, the calm vanishing as soon as she was stripped of her weapon. Fear crashed into her like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow her whole as she realised she was alone and defenceless before this intruder.

He dropped the baseball bat to the floor, the clatter loud like a gunshot. He stood in front of her, unmoving, a threatening dark shadow she’d have no hope of escaping. The coppery tang of blood filled her nostrils and had her stomach lurching as her mind whirled, presenting one horror movie scenario after another. Would her blood soon decorate Souta’s walls? Would her family come home in five days to find her mangled, broken, rotten body?

Something very close to a whimper curled up in Kagome’s throat. 

His eyes gleamed in the dark. Her thoughts spun at that but hadn’t quite reached a conclusion before his voice rang out. Cold, unaffected, drawling.

And it was a voice she recognised.

“How the tables have turned, miko. Or perhaps this is a circle finding a fitting completion, as back when we met for the first time it was I, trying to kill you. I wasn’t very successful at it either, as you recall.”

Kagome’s muscles were locked, her breath stuttered in her lungs. And then she reached to the right, flicked on the switch by the door. Light flooded the room and she squinted and blinked. But no matter what she tried, once her eyes adjusted, her vision didn’t waver.

His hair was shorter, but it was the same silver-white as always. His golden eyes were steady though shaded with amusement. It was startling to see him in modern, western clothes but he still was unmistakably himself. The haughty bearing took her back years into the past.

Her mind was still a jumble. The only sound she managed to push to her lips was a name.

“Sesshoumaru.”

He inclined his head. The perfect picture of politeness.“Kagome,” he greeted her in return.

Kagome’s long-suffering knees chose that moment to give out. She sat down with a dull thud, hugged her poor knees to her chest as she craned her neck to stare at him.

He dipped into a graceful crouch before her. “Are you all right, miko?”

“I don’t understand,” she stammered. “What… Why— How?”

“Well, that’s rather a long story,” he replied, the corner of his lip curling. “But the short version is that I happened to be feeling both restless and nostalgic tonight so I took to the streets of the city. Meandering aimlessly — or so I thought. Until somehow, I found myself standing in front of the Goshinboku. It was a blast of the past, let me tell you. One I still hadn’t quite recovered from when I caught a scent I recognised.”

Kagome reached out. Her finger pressed against his warm cheek, dimpling the pale skin. He was really here. In Souta’s bedroom, in the middle of the night, in the flesh. Being chatty, with a half-smile playing on his lips. 

“Precisely,” he said, turning to nudge Kagome’s finger — still pressing into his cheek — with his nose. “I couldn’t quite believe catching such a fresh trace of someone I had thought I’d never see again. I had to make sure I wasn’t just imagining it.”

Kagome snatched her finger back. Her hand curled into a fist and she pressed it against her chest. “So you broke into my house in the middle of the night,” Kagome concluded, at last finding her voice and some semblance of order in her fuddled brain.

“Somewhat unorthodox, I admit.” He shrugged. “I suppose you’re expecting I apologise for that. But to be frank, I’m not really sorry about the break-in as it was necessary.”

Necessary? Kagome’s mind screeched. What the hell? Out loud, her tone frosty and clipped, she said: “Excuse me?”

“I am, however, sorry that I frightened you. I wasn’t going to disturb you, just wanted to confirm you were truly here.” He smiled then and Kagome’s mind boggled even as her stomach gave a little flip. Then he reached for her, grabbed a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. It was the turn for her heart to stutter at that. 

“And here you are.” 

Kagome stared at that lone affronting strand of hair, so dark in contrast against his pale fingers. This peculiar behaviour of Sesshoumaru’s did nothing to clear away her confusion. She could well understand the urge that had possessed him, wanting to confirm his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. How many times since the well had closed had Kagome tried to find traces of her friends in the faces of the strangers passing her by on the street? She knew what it was like, being homesick for a place forever out of your reach, being swallowed by nostalgia. 

But breaking into her house? Really? A part of her was still angry at the home invasion, enough so that her fingers itched just a little to pick up Souta’s bat again. His complete and unapologetic disregard for law and privacy and basic good manners had certainly earned him a few more whacks, Kagome thought. A bigger part of her, however, was bubbling with curiosity. She was deliriously giddy to have found a tether to the past, even in the form of Sesshoumaru. She wanted to grasp it with both hands and never let go. She wanted to know everything. 

What had happened to Inuyasha? Or Kouga? Or little Shippou? What of Miroku and Sango, had they got their happily ever after? And what on earth had transpired with Sesshoumaru, to cause such drastic changes in his manner?

There was only one way to find out.

Kagome stood up, studying Sesshoumaru closely as he followed in suit and straightened. 

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” she informed him. “I understand why you did it, but it doesn’t excuse invading my home in the middle of the night and scaring me shitless.”

“I do apologise for the latter,” he intoned smoothly.

“I’m sure you do,” Kagome retorted. “But we’re putting that aside for now.”

“Thank you.” Sesshoumaru bowed his head, on his best behaviour. “I promise to conduct myself as a perfect gentleman forthwith.”

Kagome believed him, though the irony of his selective application of proper manners didn’t escape her. “Great. You do that,” she told him and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s move this into the kitchen. I’ll put the kettle on. We can have ourselves a cup of tea while we catch up.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you. And very civilised,” Sesshoumaru said, walking after her. She heard the amusement in his tone and though she didn’t turn to look, was sure he was smiling. 

“One of us has to be. Might as well be me.” Kagome shrugged and remembering Inuyasha, couldn’t help adding: “And it’s not the first time I’m dealing with rude inuyoukai bursting into the house.”

“Touché, miko,” Sesshoumaru replied with a small chuckle.

She wasn’t sure what to think of that, or of him. They’d always been distant, even after becoming uneasy allies. She’d never really known him. And this Sesshoumaru, a talkative gentleman — as long as it suited him — not afraid to show emotion, seemed very much a stranger. Yet he was so familiar that her heart ached. Memories she’d kept carefully tucked away for years were now floating close to the surface, their jagged edges no longer tearing at her. The wounds had scarred as she’d been forced to leave the past in the past. The scars had healed. 

Now, she could finally look back. 

“I must say your pyjamas are fetching. The pink hearts suit you,” Sesshoumaru said, stopping in the kitchen doorway.

Kagome, already busying herself with the kettle, slanted him a glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if he thought he was genuinely complimenting her or if he was making fun of her. Perhaps it was best to stay in the dark. “Thank you. Please take a seat.”

It was ridiculous, playing hostess to a home invader. Her life had settled into normalcy back here in the modern-day; she’d almost forgotten the host of outlandish things she’d encountered while she’d been travelling with Inuyasha. 

She certainly hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it.

It was past 3 am as Kagome served the tea. She took a seat across the table, then rested her cheek against the palm of her hand as she stared at Sesshoumaru. 

“Tell me everything,” she said.

“Everything?” His brow quirked, his lips twitched. “That will take quite a while.”

“That’s ok. We have time.”

“We do,” he agreed slowly, a smile spreading to sparkle in his golden eyes. “Don’t we?”

And as Sesshoumaru began to talk, his deep voice a pleasant lull, as she listened and allowed herself once again be swept away by a time long-forgotten and sorely missed, Kagome felt at home.

Maybe an insane night like this was her kind of normal after all.