Work Text:
Artwork by Lyansi
The whispers of raindrops are the only sounds she hears as it thrums against her umbrella.
Pitter-patter.
Pitter-patter.
Pitter-patter.
Light sprinkles turn into a rhythmic beat as large droplets begin to splash on the parasol, against the sidewalk, and soak into her sneakers. Hopefully she can make it home before it soaks through to her socks. Pastel-pink lips part and blue eyes gaze over the lip of the umbrella, careful to avoid dripping rain onto herself. Street lights flicker to life with the setting sun. Higurashi Kagome sighs and closes her eyes, shivering underneath the too-big raincoat as a breeze passes.
Luckily, Miroku spared an extra umbrella and his raincoat for use— he insisted, in fact, to drive her home but Kagome was quite reluctant. She kept insisting that she preferred to walk the twenty minutes between the clinic and her house. That it was merely going to sprinkle. Anyway, he was leaving much earlier than she was and she still had much more medical paperwork to look over before calling it quits.
Early on during her undergraduate degree, Kagome began to volunteer at shelters geared towards at-risk youth. Although trained as a spiritualist and miko, where she helped her grandfather at the family shrine her spare time, she was much more invested in the community outreach programs. The human-youkai war had ended a century ago and although the larger more industrial cities lived in peace, there was still dissent in many rural parts of Japan. Often times, skirmishes lead to orphaned youkai and hanyou in foster care.
In the last year of university, she had begun to look for outreach opportunities that would better prepare her for medical school. At the same time, Miroku, a graduate student, was looking for volunteers to help with his community project. She wound up spending many weeknights and weekends shadowing alongside the spiritualistic physicians who gave medical attention to young youkai and hanyou.
After Kagome started medical school, his small community project became a thriving medical clinic and shelter for those same at-risk youth. Thankfully she was able to choose his clinic in her pediatric rotation for her medical training, and often where she found herself working late on Friday evenings.
It was only after a few more hours of intense scrutiny over her clerical task that she realized that the sun had begun to dip into the horizon as streaks of orange and pink began to paint the sky. By the time she cleaned up her desk, and slipped into the large raincoat, even the last rays of sun began to wane.
And, what would have been a normal humid September evening was threatened by thick, gray clouds drifting overhead. Although rain was typical during this year— the weather app made no notice of such dark looking clouds that had begun to roll in as she locked up the clinic.
Using one hand, the woman grips at the neck of her coat, checking to ensure the fasteners are secure. When satisfied, Kagome quickened her pace. The office was not too far off from her home luckily. All she had to do was turn the corner here, walk three blocks up the street and—
Upon turning the corner, Kagome’s steps began to falter.
Standing underneath the stream of a street lamp and without any type of cover from the rain, a tall man stands with his back towards her. He is deep in conversation with an unseen person. The rain soaks into his shirt, clinging against his muscular form. One sleeve is rolled to reveal bright blue lotus flowers, woven alongside a slithering golden snake that wraps around a tanned forearm. Hands, balled up at his side, look bruise and stained with blood, washing away as the rain soaks him. Black hair drips with water, coming loose from its plait as it hangs down the expanse of his back.
Kagome’s eyebrows come together in confusion and immediately she senses that something is wrong. The man possesses no discernible jaki, so he must not be a demon, but he did not seem to hold reiki either leaning to the fact that he was just a regular human man.
It was his stance, however, that put her on edge. With feet spread wide and fists balled at his side, it was more than enough to make her shift with unease. She couldn’t see his face but knew for certain it must be contorted in anger. Feelings of anxiety begin to bubble in the pit of her stomach. Should she turn around to take a different path home?
Before she could make that decision, the man turns to her. She stares back in shock. Blue, angry eyes glare at her before Kagome notices it. Etched across his forehead in purple is a diamond star. A mark she recognizes belonging to a distinct fraction of criminals: the yakuza.
The man turns back down the passage, making a gesture as he does so. Kagome watches as he walks in the opposite direction casually and, not even moments later, another man emerges from the alley.
Like the first man, two vertical stripes emerge from the bottom of his chin and extends to his eyebrow line. In the middle of his forehead, a pointed mark was stamped. Unlike the first man whose hair fell to his waist, this man was completely bald. Beady eyes stared at her for a moment before he, too, walked away in nonchalance.
The young medical student lets out a breath she had not even been aware of holding. Kagome eyes the alleyway wearily. What exactly were those two men doing there? Maybe she should just turn around and find a different road back home after all.
Instead, she finds herself taking steps closer and closer to the entrance of the alley. At that moment the sky decides to opens up entirely and, what began as a slow drizzle, picks up speed and force. As she approaches the entrance, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs, lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, as she remembers the stain of blood bright against tanned skin.
As Kagome peers with hesitance into the alley, her shoulders fall away from her chin. On the left side, the building wraps around with the entrance facing into the alleyway. Standing across the building were color coded trash receptacles. Nothing unusual stood out: she misinterpreted the scene for something more nefarious. It was, after all, a completely normal alleyway. Including the figure leaning precariously on the opposite end of the receptacles.
A soft gasp leaves Kagome’s lips and she rushes forward, the umbrella falling from her hands, forgotten. Soaked to the bone, a man is thrown carelessly against one side of the bin. Dark hair forms a curtain around his frame, matted against his skin and clothes. From her angle, she is unable to see his face.
“Hey! You— are you okay?” Kagome reaches out carefully and tries to rouse him. With his head tilted back in an ungraceful and seemingly uncomfortable way, Kagome can only assume him to be unconscious. She blinks away the suddenly onslaught of rain, wiping at her face as it presses her fringe to her forehead.
When Kagome presses a hand against his chest to check for a heartbeat, she feels a sudden warmth. Quickly pulling back her hand, Kagome is astonished to see her hand dripping in bright, red blood. He was injured!
“Oh no, oh no…” Kagome looks behind her. She is certain that no one would be walking around in this weather. Furthermore, walking in a residential area, there were few businesses that are still open this late. Biting her lip, Kagome decides the best solution for this situation is to get him to a place that could help.
“Hey— I’m going to help you… if you don’t want me to, you have to tell me now.” She bites her lip, knowing she is making a useless gesture by asking for permission. Even if he were conscious enough to deny her assistance, she would still insist upon it. She was compassionate, after all.
When the man makes no response, Kagome slides an arm underneath his back and works to lift him up. The sudden movement causes the man to rasp for breath, his head and chest leaning forward against her shoulder.
Using her strength, she pulls the two of them straight up. The man is definitely much taller than Kagome and she has to lean the both of them against one another.
For a moment, she wonders at the repercussions of taking this stranger to a hospital. Obvious reasons plainly indicate that taking him to the hospital might be the better place however, it may lead to some unsavory questions and refusal to assist in gang violence (because, honestly, what other situation could this be?).
Anyway, if he didn’t have his health insurance card on him, Kagome feared she would be stuck with the cost of his medical care. While she was generous to a fault, paying for a strangers very expensive medical bill helps to separate the line between generous and stupidity.
So, she makes the decision to take him back home with her. It didn’t seem like he had a weapon on him and, regardless, he was too injured to even think of hurting her. She makes a mental note to call Miroku in the morning, already knowing the firm lecture she will receive.
Thankfully, she works in a high-volume hospital and had come across her fair share of gang-related victims. This would not be the first time she patched up an injured person. And, at least it was a human this time. Some of the demons and hanyou she worked with were much harder to care for alone due to their naturally aggressive temperament when under threat.
She isn’t sure how she did it, but somehow she was able to make the trek back home. Kagome is surprised by her own strength to make it up the steps to the shrine, over the courtyard, and into the house. The rain was quick to pass through and she was able to avoid slipping through puddles.
Upon arriving, she lays him on the dining table, grateful that one of the entrances opens into the kitchen.
“Mama!” Kagome calls out, exhausted and soaked.
No answer.
“Mama? Oji-chan?” Kagome calls out again, frowning. Were they not home?
“Souta?”
Still— no response.
She walks around the kitchen as if to look for some clue. Finally, she finds it: taped on fridge door is a note written in her younger brothers handwriting (Oji-chan wanted to visit the Gero Onsen Town in Gifu. We will be back on Sunday. Mom says to lock up!).
“Great, just great Kagome.” She mumbles to herself, eyeing the unconscious man. His breathing has become harsher, and a sweat is beginning to break out across his forehead. At least she wouldn’t have to explain to her family why she brought an unconscious, wounded man back home.
With measured speed and accuracy, Kagome begins to move around the kitchen. She grabs scissors from a drawer, several clean dishrags, and fills a bowl with water. She rummages through several cabinets before finding her emergency first aid kit. Immediately, she begins working.
The first thing she does is to remove his shirt with care. Seeing how she was unable to determine where his wound was or the extent of it, cutting his shirt down the middle was her best option. Once the cloth gives her an unobstructed view of his chest, Kagome dips the dishcloth in the water and begins to dab away blood.
Had the situation been different, Kagome would have bashfully reveled in the expanse of skin. Whoever this man was, he definitely cared for his fitness. Muscles pulled taut at his abdomen and his Adonis belt dipping below the waistband of his pants.
Once Kagome cleans the blood away, it becomes easy to see the knife puncture below his false rib. Maybe due to the fact that she had put unintended pressure on the wound dragging him down the street, it was not bleeding as heavily as it could have been.
It definitely is not as deep as she originally thought and the location is not nearly as severe as some of the other injuries she had cared for in the past. With rest and care, she was certain this man would make a proper recovery.
What shocks her more than the knife wound is the number of bruises that mar his body. Lesions of different sizes and hues of purple smear themselves up his chest. She isn’t sure what warranted such an attack on this man but she was sympathetic to his pain.
Kagome works to dump the soiled water and the rags into the kitchen sink. Filling a saucepan with water, Kagome places it on the stovetop to boil. She scrubs her hands and underneath her fingernails clean and moves to remove the suture kit.
As the water boils, Kagome throws her instruments into the water. After a few minutes and using a strainer, she removes them and places them on a napkin. Kagome irrigates his wound with fresh water, before she begins to suture up him up. While working, Kagome is unaware of the passage of time. She isn’t sure whether the stitching takes her ten minutes, or an hour. When she is finally done, she throws herself down into one of the chairs closest to her and stares at him.
Reaching out, the young woman pushes away hair from his face. For the first time, Kagome actually takes a good look at the man.
Thick, dark eyebrows frame over heavy-lidded eyes. A prominent, straight nose protrudes from the middle of his face. The young woman’s eyes follow down towards full lips and a thick, muscular neck. Had it not been for the current situation, Kagome would have blushed at staring at him with such earnest.
At the top of his chest, Kagome realizes that a tattoo adorns his skin. The ink wraps around his pectoral, upper shoulder, and down his bicep. She leans closer to examine the design. Along the upper part of his chest protrudes the figure of a large canine, as if emerging celestially from the heavens itself. Golden eyes with flecks of red and yellow stare back at her. The dog vanishes in hues and shades of blues clouds that trail down his shoulder and along his bicep. Cherry blossom petals cascade around his elbow.
Reaching out a hand, Kagome traces the canine figure along his bicep. She fingers the clouds along his shoulder, and follows the path of the sakura petals. For the briefest of moments she questions if she did the right thing to care for his wound.
Exhaustion answers her, instead.
Getting up, Kagome begins to clean. She throws dirty rags in the sink, she wipes down dried blood from the table and counters. After cleaning and putting away her first aid kit, she checks the time on her phone. The backlight flashes back at her, 12:37 AM. Sunrise would be happening soon enough and she was expected to wake early in the absence of her grandfather and brother to start Shrine duties.
Should she leave him on the table then? She isn’t sure she has the strength to take him up the stairs to one of the rooms. “He may be more comfortable on the futon, though…” Kagome mumbles to herself. She slides open the shoji that separates the kitchen from the living room.
The young woman rummages through the cabinet space in the living room and pulls out the spare futon. She pushes the chabudai out of the way and throws the zabuton to the side before walking back into the kitchen.
Pulling the man off of the table, Kagome is careful to not tear open his stitches. Already exhausted between her long day and now treating this stranger, she relies heavy on the wall for support as she makes her way into the next room.
She successfully avoids the chabudai and manages to all but drop him on the futon. For the first time, a weak groan emerges from him.“Oh— shoot! Sorry, sorry.” She kneels next to his prone figure, checking over his stitches.
Satisfied with her results, and fatigued from the day, she decides to lay down on the tatami next to him.
She’ll lay only for a minute.
Kagome sighs and closes her eyes.
One minute to recharge herself.
Her breathing begins to slow.
Only a few more seconds and she’ll get up to go to her room.
Kagome is sure she must have fallen asleep as she imagines a pulling under her neck and below her knees. Her neck tilts to the side as she feels herself pressed against a firm torso. Her arm falls away from her chest and, although she should expect it to feel the tatami underneath her, she does not. In fact, she feels nothing as it dangles.
As if someone were carrying her.
Kagome startles awake, her entire upper half jumping up from her horizontal position. Heart hammering in her chest, it takes her a moment to clear away the sleep and confusion. She immediately recognizes her desk, the curtains, and her bed. Her comforter falls away from her, thrown back upon her sudden wakefulness.
When did she get in her room?
Kagome thinks to the night before: the tattooed thugs, the injured man. At some point she must have fallen asleep and awoken again to climb the steps to her room. She decides she should go check on the man.
As she begins to spring out of bed, Kagome sees her curtains flutter. Frowning, she realizes that for whatever reason, she decided to open the window. She approaches it and shuts the window tight, pulling the curtains open. The sun is beginning to peak over the horizon.
Kagome turns and begins to make her way downstairs. She decides to check on the man before she changes into her miko uniform. Although her family’s shrine has served the area for five centuries, it was not a huge tourist attraction. Usually, on a weekend, there would only be one couple who bothered to come before mid-morning. This gave her ample time to check on the man, change, and even fix herself (and him) some breakfast foods.
As she makes it to the last landing of the stairs, she full expects to see a dark-haired man laying down on the futon. What she does not expect to see, is an empty futon when her fingers flip on the living room light.
If he was awake and moving, where could he be?
Oh man, bringing him back home was a bad idea. What was she thinking?! Her family was definitely going to come home to see her mangled body thrown on the tatami. How could she be so selfish? And here she thought she was acting with genorisity.
Kagome swallows, glancing behind her, as if expecting to see him standing on the stairs above, like some axe-wielding murderer. He isn’t though. Nor is he in the kitchen or any of the rooms, or bathrooms.
“Hello? Hello! Come out please!” She calls out as she moves around the house from room to room. The man isn’t there. Nothing seems to be out of sorts either. Hands on her hips, Kagome huffs and glares at the empty futon.
After searching the house twice, she decides to give up. Either he was hiding too well for her to find (not that there were even any hiding places in the house) or he got up and left.
No note or anything! Not even a thank-you!
As she stares down the empty futon, Kagome notices a thin, string-like object thrown across the bed. Frowning, she kneels to get a much better look, noticing the droplets of blood that stand out against the cot. Frowning, she immediately recognizes the suture thread stitched into his skin hours before.
Did he rip out his stitches? How could he be so ungrateful and do something so careless! He must be bleeding all over again— wherever he was. In the end though, Kagome recognizes that there was nothing she could do. For whatever reason, this man decided to refused to accept her help. She hopes he would seek medical attention elsewhere, if needed.
But Kagome knew she couldn’t allow such thoughts to plague her. Shaking her head back and forth, she balls her fist. By doing so, her fingers tangle in long, silverly threads of hair. She pulls her hand up to examine the fine tresses, eyebrows furrowing together.
Was her Ojii-chan using this futon to sleep in? It would make sense, but the hair seems way too long. As she lengthens the threads to asses the size, she knew that it could not have been her grandfathers hair. With a span this long, it would fall down to her knees. Who else could have such long, thin silvery hair?
Was it possible that her grandfather had a lady friend?
Shuddering, Kagome balked at the thought of her grandfather being that friendly. It definitely did not fit his personality. Anyway, her mother was always home— the older woman would have mentioned it to her that he had someone stay the night. Maybe she should ask them about it when they returned— it’s possible that her mother was sworn to secrecy with this matter.
Chuckling to herself, Kagome begins to fold the futon. She returns it back to the closet and begins to straighten the room. Once she decides the living room is clean, thrown the dirted rags in the wash, and wipes and disinfects the kitchen, Kagome begins to prepare for her day, suddenly more excited than normal.
She couldn’t wait to find out exactly how her grandfather would react to his secret being revealed.