baby

The bricks were warm against her cold skin.  It was the middle of the night, the moon was high, and it was late autumn at best, but the bricks were warm .

Or rather, she was so cold that the small amount of warmth left in the bricks was almost as good as a jacket.

She didn’t dare be seen by anyone.  Not out here, in the suburbs of Tokyo, wearing a white kosode dressed right over left.  If she didn’t feel like she’d be exposing herself to people by redressing outside, she would’ve done it already… but propriety demanded she keep the ensemble together.

Even if she was dressed for death, it wasn’t quite enough to make her undress in public.

“The fuck is this, seriously?” Kagome whispered, bundling herself into the corner of an alley.  Her mouth ached. Her stomach turned and growled at the same time. She didn’t care how cold the concrete must be beneath her feet, but in her mind, she could recall the comfort of her mattress at home, of the thick duvet filled to capacity with feathers, of a cup of hot, green tea and her mother’s sasamochi .  What she wouldn’t give for all of that just right then, but there was no way she could go home.  

Not when she was supposed to be dead; not when she was supposed to have been cremated already, as evidenced by the room they’d had her laid in, and the box that had loosely held her in place.

Dear gods above, what would’ve happened if she hadn’t woken up?

Crouching and curling around her knees, Kagome tried to remember.  She could recall the hospital. Her mother, brother, and grandfather looking at her with worried faces, a doctor with calculating, black eyes that seemed misplaced on his face.  She remembered screaming machines, the world fading to black.

That was all.

Kagome’s memories skipped a blank that felt ages long before appearing in the crematorium, and then her desperate escape.  If she was at the crematorium, that meant her family had already mourned over her body for days. They’d seen her in a coffin, laid flowers on her, kept vigil for her.  She was no expert on funerals, but days of an open casket meant everyone knew she was dead.

Though apparently, rumors of her death were greatly exaggerated.  Otherwise, what would she be doing out here?

The sound of cautious footsteps reverberated in her ears, and the shock was almost palpable as the person came to a stop over her.  She froze; it had to be the wee hours of the morning yet, so how was someone awake to find her here? A drunk? A criminal? Dread settled on her heavily, and Kagome didn’t dare raise her head.  The feet left in a hurry.

Just as she was breathing a sigh of relief, more feet came.  She tried to sink into the corner even further, but there was heavy breathing over her and she could feel it when one of them knelt over her, and she just wanted to run —

“Hey, what’s a baby like you doing out this late at night?  The sun’ll be comin’ up soon.”

He has a nice voice , came the thought.  Kagome hesitated, but eventually raised her head to face him — and met a pair of eyes that were a deep, mesmerizing blue.  An unreasonably unfathomable blue. She hadn’t understood what poets were going on about when they declared themselves breathless at one beauty or another, but now she did.  Air escaped her lungs, leaving her unable to answer.

He looked worried.  He sounded worried.  The man tried again, “You’re not safe here.  Where’s your sire?”

With a nervous swallow, she shook her head.  Words. Words would be good about now. “I don’t- I mean, what…?”

Still distracted by his eyes, it was impossible to miss the moment dark pupils narrowed to thin slits.

“...  Your sire.  Who created you?” he asked, voice strained.  His nerves were getting to her, pulling her out of ocean eyes and bringing her back to overwhelming reality — cold concrete, fast-approaching dawn, and a kimono for burial.  Kagome licked her lips, gaze falling to her knees.

“I’m… not sure what you mean.”

She didn’t know the man, but he sounded furious when he spoke again.  “Who the hell would leave you on your own at a time like this?”  There wasn’t time to formulate a response before he tossed his jacket over her head, the smell of pine and leather and male encasing her as he barked out orders.  “Ginta, call that damn monk and tell him to get his girl to raid the blood bank.  It’s better than nothing. Hakkaku, get the boys organized. We’ve got to find her sire.  This bullshit cannot happen again. Ginta, after you call Miroku, get Ayame on the line and tell her to haul some of her old things to my apartment.  I know she’s probably still pissed at me, but we can’t have this one running around in funeral shit.”

Kagome was forcibly jostled to her feet, an arm around her shoulders, her toes tripping and scraping against the ground as he dragged her along.  By the end of the alley, when the sounds of the echoes around her changed, the man hauled her into his arms. More jackets were piled on her torso and legs.   They also smelled of pine and leather, and different notes of spicy masculinity. Confused and on the verge of flailing for her balance, the gruff voice of the man carrying her rumbled by her ear, “Don’t move too much.  We’ll get you somewhere safe, so just behave.”

“What the- no seriously, where are you taking me?” she started, finally coming back to herself now that distracting eyes weren’t being so distracting.  His chest vibrated in a rumble she didn’t know what to do with.

“If I knew who was responsible for this, I’d take you there.  And then knock their fucking teeth out,” he growled. “Since I don’t know, I’m taking you to our enclave.  It’s better than nothing; there are rooms safe for babes like you, so at least you won’t—”

“Would you stop calling me a baby?  I’m a grown woman.”

“You’re a fucking baby who hasn’t even had her first blood yet.”

“If that’s a comment about my fertility I swear to god —”

“HELL NO.”  His hands gripped until it hurt a little, but she tried to move as little as possible.  The warmth was glorious. She wasn’t really mad. Half of it was teasing, the other half unbearable indignity of being treated like a child by someone so attractive.  “I’m saying what kind of sire leaves their child alone without even telling them what’s happened? Did they say anything to you at all?”

Kagome didn’t reply.  She pursed her lips and went over her memories again, skimming them.  Mama, Grandfather, Souta, the doctor; the hospital and its impeccably sterile crematorium.  Waking up in a flimsy box for burning. The scream of machines in her ears was headache-inducing even when she just imagined it.  The hallways were dark and empty when she fled, eschewing the idea of stealing a forgotten jacket to cover her burial garb. The smell of death and bleach and alcohol was everywhere.  Blood and decay. It made more of an impression now than it had then, her mind calm enough to organize what her senses had stored away for her.

“Hey,” he prompted gruffly, “ Did they ?”

Beneath the jacket, Kagome shook her head.  “No one was there but me.”

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