Blank by Crescentgray

Upon Waking

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

Blank : Chapter One – Upon Waking

Consciousness came in slow layers, almost like floating upwards through mud.

First, she became vaguely aware of her body. It hurt. Air was drawn in through the nose and rasped down a raw throat into lungs that protested every tiny expansion. On top of that, every movement caused by her breath was a reminder that, while her lungs felt burned, seared almost, her ribs were hardly in better shape. It was as if a great hand had squeezed her upper body with violent force while she had been breathing fire. A part of her knew she didn't normally breathe fire, which was probably why her lungs hurt, but there was something about being squeezed by giant hands that didn't strike her as being the least bit unusual, even if she wasn't awake enough to remember this particular hand.

There were many faint throbbings elsewhere, from her left ankle to the side of her face, and there was a sharp and bright pain that started on top of her right shoulder that raked halfway down her back. However, the young woman was not awake enough yet to question her injuries. They simply were.

Next, she became aware of the scents. Her nostrils flared slightly as a pungent, almost minty smell assailed her, and beneath that, the scent of cleanliness, and beneath that, the smell of fresh blood that had scabbed over recently. Vaguely, she wondered why these scents were so familiar to her, then came to the conclusion that with her body feeling the way it did and these scents stirring recognition in her, she probably led a very interesting, eventful life.

A sound drifted across her consciousness, so she concentrated on that, now feeling as if she were swimming upward through mud, instead of just floating passively to the surface. She didn't wonder what it was about her that insisted that she struggle instead of just be, but she knew, with a crystalline clarity, that this was simply the way she was. Even wracked with pain, mostly insensible, she still fought.

It was the soft, distant twittering of birds. Suddenly, two sensations struck her simultaneously, with a third close on their heels. First, she heard a soft, snuffling breath, almost a snore, and at the same time she became aware of sunlight warming her skin. A few moments later, she realized she could hear another breath, this one low and almost silent.

She pondered these sounds for a moment. The sun was up, and yet she was almost positive that two people were sleeping near her. One for sure; she would recognize the snuffles of a sleeping child anywhere. Her brain paused over this little bit of information, chewing it slowly in slight confusion. She didn't know who it was, but she was struck with a sure certainty that a child slept near her. There was something intensely familiar about them, those little unrestrained snorts of innocent slumber.

She could almost feel herself straining to catch the sound of the other's breath, though she wasn't close enough to consciousness to move yet. Easily, she slipped into focus, blocking out all sounds except the sound of... his? her? breath, deep and even and quiet, as if there was nothing in the world of pain. She knew differently. She was surrounded by pain, physical pain at least, but she felt curiously calm, almost serene. Perhaps her breathing friend understood this peaceful place.

And then, even though she was still concentrating on the breathing, something else trilled across her awareness. Power. Her own breath caught for a moment in surprise. It wasn't just his power she felt (and yes, it was a he, her quietly breathing companion, she could feel the sheer, raw maleness of him threading throughout his aura). She also felt... her own. Somewhere, so deep inside of her that it had no physical center, power bubbled up, welled and surged within her. She was sure she had never known this sensation before, filled to overflowing with this pure, untainted light, throbbing, humming with power, almost as strong as his. Perhaps it was as strong as his. It was close, close, close, so close that she couldn't quite tell who held the greater power.

She heard his sharp, almost startled intake of breath, and knew with every fiber of her being that he was one who did not startle easily.

The young woman's eyes snapped open.

Rather, one of them snapped open. Her left eye was swollen shut, but whether by happenstance or design, her breathing companions had chosen to be to her right, where she would easily be able to see them. Her dark blue eye took them in in an instant – the girl was sleeping, lying sprawled on her back in a corner, open, trusting, defenseless. Her dark hair was unruly and wild around her face, mostly pulled free from the tie that struggled vainly to keep it in a simple, ordered ponytail on the side of her head. She was perhaps eight, perhaps nine, certainly no older than ten. She lay barefoot and relaxed in a checkered orange and white kimono, and a small, sweet smile graced her features.

The young woman turned her attention unhurriedly to the man. No, she corrected herself; he was male, but no man. He was sitting comfortably on the polished wooden floor, dressed all in white (what in the world is that fluffy thing? she mused) save for the red flower patterns marking his house. One clawed hand rested on his knee, but his left arm was missing. He was clearly a noble, that much was plain to see. Although he wore no armor, it occurred to her that he should. He was so clearly a warrior, a powerful one at that, that he seemed almost... incomplete without armor and weapons.

That thought fled her mind as her eye came to rest on his face. No, she decided, she'd been wrong. This was a male who needed nothing to complete him. His aura, his power pressed against her own, and she had to suppress a shiver, knowing that this was one creature that she could never show weakness to. She also knew that, with her agonized body, even a little shiver would hurt like hell.

He was breathtakingly beautiful, she noted almost clinically. From the long, thick sweep of his silver hair, the impossibly high cheekbones marked by two slashing stripes, the high smooth forehead with the curious crescent moon mark, his pale, pale skin, and eyes that glittered at her like molten gold – oh, he was certainly beautiful. Alien. Powerful. Unknown. His eyebrows were drawn slightly together, his perfect lips pursed ever so lightly in a small frown, and she saw emotions flicker through his eyes – curiosity, surprise, and just a hint of guarded wariness. She didn't think he knew that she could read his eyes so clearly. Something about him suggested to her that most people could not. Perhaps no one before her had ever been able to read his eyes so well.

They gazed at each other for several minutes, and slowly she felt herself beginning to relax. While he was no friend, she instinctively knew he meant her no harm; at least, not right now. While she supposed she should feel a little embarrassed to be in such bad shape before this creature of beauty, she actually didn't mind. The inner peace that suffused her whole being kept her calm. Plus, she'd apparently had a rough time of it recently, even if she didn't remember exactly what had happened to her. Actually, now that she thought about it...

Her own eyebrows drew together, and she felt a ripple splash across her serenity. Her open eye unfocused for a moment on the male before her as she contemplated this new, somewhat disturbing development. His voice snapped her back to him as he said one word, low and soft and rich and full, in a pitch and tone that was enough to get any normal girl's heart beating just a bit faster. He said his word, identifying her, naming her, greeting her.

"Miko."

She smiled slightly, barely wincing at her split lower lip. After all, what was one more little discomfort in the face of the rest of her pain? She smiled at her host, for she knew now that's who he was, trying to thank him for his hospitality with her eyes and smile.

But thanks were not the words that passed her lips in a rough, unrecognizable voice. She hadn't expected to sound like that, but she assumed that her normal voice would return as she healed.

"Excuse me," she said. "Who exactly are you?"

They stared at each other for several long moments before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. A sudden realization hit – he knew her. She was supposed to know him. She was not a nameless miko he had picked up somewhere, but someone that he knew. He thought she was toying with him, having fun at his expense. What were they to each other? Companions? Lovers? Allies? Friends? She settled on allies after a split second of debate – somehow, she didn't think she and this cold male were any closer than that.

It really was quite remarkable how much his eyes betrayed, she decided. She also decided, in that instant, that this was something she should not let him know about. She had a feeling they were reluctant allies, at best. At worst...well, at least he hadn't ripped her throat out with his claws. In fact, it seemed she was quite well taken care of in his care, given her current condition. She was struck, as well, by the sudden certainty that he had not done this to her. Allies, then, she decided again. But not fully trusting ones. No, with his eyes narrowed and his almost overwhelming power pushing up tightly (intimately, her brain supplied helpfully) against hers, he was not to be trusted.

He was regarding her with such cool annoyance that she felt her calm ripple again, and something (irritation, anger, temper) unnamed rose within her. She did not like it, she did not like it at all, thank you very much. She was confused enough without having some extraordinarily beautiful (youkai, her brain whispered) demon eyeing her as if she were a cockroach he had accidentally stepped on. A very small cockroach. Part of her wondered if he even walked at all – in a way, he was too pretty to walk, bound by gravity like everyone else. An unbidden picture came to her mind, of him with teeny tiny gossamer fairy wings sprouting from his back, fluttering furiously to keep his (he's tall, she idle noted) feet from ever having to touch the ground. She squelched the image ruthlessly – she may not know who she was, but apparently, she was just a little bit silly. Still, he was a noble, and she was his guest, so she turned herself over to unknown, unremembered but obviously well practiced habits. She had been taught to be polite, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, her smile tight but apologetic. "I really... I can't..."

One eyebrow quirked upward slowly as she struggled with her words, and that unnamed feeling rose within her again, making her apologies taste bitter in her mouth. Suddenly, she realized he was really pissing her off, but she was in no position to fight if it came to it. She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, shoving down the unnamed emotion and regaining her tranquility.

"I can't remember anything."

He blinked once, slowly, at her statement. The annoyance remained, but curiosity flickered a bit as well in his eyes, and she felt the tense knot in her stomach uncoiling. It wasn't the most auspicious beginning, but it could have been worse. Much worse, her brain amended. At least she discovered, quite quickly, that she had a temper. As well as the will to suppress it.

"Pity that you remember how to speak," he replied with a smirk.

Her tranquility went right out the window.

As a small little part of her brain jumped out the window with outstretched fingers, reaching, reaching for that calm, desperately hoping to catch it before she opened her mouth again, her mouth opened again.

"Don't be such an idiot," she hissed, her tone implying that she doubted he could manage it. "You know very well that's not what I meant."

Again he blinked as both eyebrows decided to become rather more acquainted with his forehead. She felt savagely triumphant – she sensed that he was rarely shocked, and she had already surprised him least twice today. Maybe more, she whispered to herself. Maybe I shocked him all morning before I lost my memory. Another unbidden image rose in her mind, of her walking across a heavily carpeted floor to build up a static charge, then sneaking up behind him and goosing him. In the vision, his hair stood up nicely on end.

She almost started to grin at that, but the pain in her face brought her up short. She also realized that she couldn't remember what she looked like, and that was disturbing enough to douse her with a cold splash of reality. That was also right about the time that her tranquility hit the ground outside her mental window, and that little piece of her that had jumped after it slammed into the ground as well. Not too bright, that little piece said snidely. Nope, not too bright at all.

Another part of her brain, a much larger part, was wondering how in the world she could know about such things as carpet and static electricity and the word kimono, for heaven's sake, when she couldn't remember one thing about herself, not even what she looked like. Not her name, not her past, nothing – it was as if she had sprung into existence when she first began gaining consciousness, fully formed and with all the knowledge she needed of the world but with no history of her own. Another tiny part of her brain was singing something about a yellow submarine in an almost hysterical fashion. She felt his power pushing against her own, trying to assert his dominance over her. His clawed hand tightened imperceptibly on his knee, and suddenly that singing part of her brain got a lot louder.

And then, her power bubbled up in her again, and she pushed, ever so tentatively, back. And she felt...well, he certainly didn't give at all, but she suddenly wondered if she could make his power give, if she pushed a lot harder. His nostrils flared slightly as his eyes narrowed again, and (thank kami) that damn song turned abruptly off. He wasn't scared of her, not by a long shot, but that wary look was back in his eyes and her tranquility returned full force.

"I wonder..." he mused aloud. He eyed her carefully. Well, she thought, I have graduated from a tiny cockroach to a very unusual, possibly dangerous insect. Or maybe even a small reptile, if I'm lucky.

"I am Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands," he said after a moment with a bored look on his face.

Suddenly, the young woman felt very, very guilty. This was her host, her ally (reluctant, her brain added) and as far as she could tell, he had cared for her better than she could have asked for. And in return, she let herself get angry (he pushed your buttons on purpose! a part of her insisted), and then she'd been downright rude. Her anger evaporated, and suddenly she simply felt extremely tired. Maybe if he weren't so damn pretty, he wouldn't be so irritating, she mused.

"Forgive me, Sesshoumaru-sama," she croaked. Maybe I should have gone with amphibian over reptile, she thought. I sound like a frog. "I spoke out of turn."

Muted surprise flashed through his eyes again, and she paused. Was...was he not used to such courtesy from her? Again, she wondered about the nature of their relationship. Maybe he was used to the feisty part of her that had reared its head just a bit earlier. That seemed to be the case, but she couldn't help but think that too much feistiness around this one would get a girl dead.

He inclined his head ever so slightly, and she took it to mean that her apology was accepted. Phew!

She smiled up at him again, tasting a bit of fresh blood from her split lip. "I'm afraid I can't remember my name, Sesshoumaru-sama," she said.

He pursed his lips ever so slightly at that, frowning at her. They gazed at each other for several long moments before a loud snore, cut abruptly short, drew both of their attention to the sleeping girl. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, and then shrieked with delight.

"Kagome-nee-chan!"