AN: Just showing you I'm not dead.

Plus I never had the courage to try that Bloody Mary myth – if only my 12 year old pal would agree and try it with me. Ah well.



Disclaimer: I do not own this terror-filled edition of Inuyasha and Kagome's crazy escapades.




Thirteen Times






"Shut up!" Sango hissed.

"Guys," Kagome cleared her throat. "Please!"

It was dark and dusty; just as she had predicted.

They were in the shrine attic – Miroku, Sango, and Kagome – venturing into the mysterious domain with only one flashlight in hand. Kagome shook the said object when the light began to flicker.

"Stupid piece of crud," she grumbled before Sango and Miroku, unaware she had stopped in her tracks, collided into the already peeved teen. There were three identical "oomph!" from the jumble of flailing arms and legs, a thick dust cloud rising to the ceiling as cobwebs and spiders fell in the clutter.

"My shin!" Kagome moaned. "Where's my flashlight?"

"Whose hand is," Sango paused. "Why do I even bother?"

Miroku raised his hands. "That was on accident, my dear Sango."

"Got it," Kagome crawled out from underneath her two companions and fingered what felt like cold metal. "Alright, let's…what?"

The three troublemakers managed to stand back up before their eyes long adjusted to the darkness, the shadows parting to reveal what was being held in Kagome's hands.

"Is that a sword?"

Kagome, who had heard much about this weapon in question, decided that enough was enough. "Let's get out of here. I can't breathe."

After fumbling for the trap door, they climbed out of the arcane attic, dusted off ("No, Miroku, I can dust myself thank you,") left the shrine as it was and found themselves back in Kagome's pretty little pink room.

"That was eventful," Miroku sat cross-legged on her chair. "Why didn't you ever tell us there was an attic?"

"I didn't know myself," she mumbled, still staring at the decrepit artifact in her hands. "I'm usually the one discovering things like…" She mindlessly weighed the antique, noting the heaviness of such a rusted blade.

Sango looked over her shoulder on the floor. "So what's with the sword?"

Kagome shrugged, placing the weapon before her. "It was a legend I heard when I was a kid." She looked up, only to see her two amigos intently watching, silently urging her to continue. Kagome sighed. "It's a myth my grandpa used to tell me…you know; when I was still naïve?"

"Go on, go on."

"Well, there's a legend about a man who was half-demon, half-human–"

"Kinky." Miroku was elbowed for that.

She continued. "It was around the Sengoku era… this half-man, half-demon guy, a Hanyou, I think, went mad with rage. Some say he was betrayed by his one true love–"

"Oh, jilted and burned." Another immediate elbow to the stomach.

"–and some say he was tricked by another Hanyou. Whatever happened, he went mad and slaughtered a whole village of innocent people. He continued this bloodshed until he was met by his half-brother, a full demon. No one knows what happened afterwards, but it's said his spirit rests inside that very scabbard."

Three pairs of eyes fell on the sheathed sword.

"And there's a way to awaken him from his slumber," Kagome mentally cursed, because the moment she let that slip she knew where to look. She saw Miroku and Sango exchange the 'look', and both wore the feline 'grin'.





"I got the candles."

"For the last time, we don't need candles!" Sango hissed.

"Then why did I bring these?" Miroku inquired. "Especially the scented ones!"

"Because you're a pervert," Kagome dully responded. "Now can we get this over with?"

In truth, she was afraid. And the two other occupants of her bathroom knew it.

It was a tale she had heard since childhood, retold by her grandpa and mother over and over again. Whenever she wanted to stay up late, or argued about anything political to controversial, that very story was told, variations with each retelling of course. Soon enough, even the single utterance of the story, or the slightest mention of the sword's name, proved to be capable of sending her under the covers, she frightened out of her wits.

Kagome incoherently grumbled. Great, a rotten childhood memory.

Her day hadn't gone smoothly – her family left her clueless until the very last minute, every time. This time, it was about a certain spiritual convention in Yokohama, and huzzah, huzzah, she was shockingly left behind.

Mama and Grandpa were probably enjoying the festivity while Souta was having the time of his life at his slumber party in devil knows where. Like Miroku would say – jilted and burned.

"What was that?" Sango gasped as a floorboard creaked.

"Your mom."


He held up his hands, a reoccurring gesture. "You totally asked for that one!"

"Are we going to do this or not," Kagome clicked her tongue, more an order rather than a question.

"Fire away, Mon Capitan," Sango saluted.

"Alright," she cleared her throat. "You go into a room with a mirror and turn off all the lights."

The three looked around the bathroom. It was small and cramped, a bit uncomfortable but perfect for the occasion.

Miroku turned off the lights, and then the three silently waited for each of their eyes to dilate.

"Okay," she continued. "We place the sword in front like so."

Sango gently placed the object on the counter.

"Then you begin chanting 'Tessaiga, Tessaiga, Tessaiga,' and your voice should get louder and louder, from a whisper to a near scream. While you're chanting you should be spinning around, at a medium rate, and taking a glimpse in the mirror at each pass. Near the 13th repetition of the word… 'he' should appear and…"

"And…?" Miroku and Sango questioned.

Kagome shrugged. "How should I know? No one in the family ever tried it before."

"Well we'll change that, won't we," Miroku grinned. "Okay, get in position."

Miroku, Sango, and Kagome stood in front of the wide bathroom mirror. Kagome didn't know whether this would work if the three of them did it together, but it was better than doing it alone.

"Besides," Kagome mumbled, "it's just a stupid myth."

As if on a silent cue, the three started to turn clockwise. On the first full turn, they whispered 'Tessaiga' in unison. It was awkward and a bit strange; the three of them knew it too.

On the fourth turn they were stumbling into each other, and their chant was disharmonized and shook with silent laughter. On the seventh turn they were beginning to fall apart, Kagome once hitting her shin on the seat of the toilet and Sango blundering into the sink. Miroku was the only person who seemed genuinely determined to finish this.

Their whisper turned to a series of shrieks and screeches, and even the family pet, Buyo, wondered if murder was afoot (he was sleeping on the roof).

Sango was beginning to get dizzy, Miroku was spinning way too fast, and Kagome's throat became sore – she, however, was the only one who remembered to watch the mirror.

It wasn't until the 9th turn did she even consider that something was going horribly wrong. She gave a fleeting glance, and what she saw were two red orbs in the center of the mirror. But they disappeared the next turn.

As each of them reached their thirteenth turn, their mouths and eyes wide open and ready for the thirteenth time, a series of unfortunate events took place.

First, Miroku lost his footing and fell backwards, his back clashing into the metal door handle.

Next, Sango's loud chant turned from 'Tessa–' to 'GAH' when Miroku's hand inadvertently brushed her…backside.

Kagome, of course, would be distracted enough to stop the ritual. She had enough sense to get away from the two after what happened earlier in the shrine attic, with the falling and the crashing and the pain, but the bathroom was just too darn small and crowded.

She faltered and stepped back, forgetting that there was a toilet behind her. Kagome fell right on the closed toilet seat while her hand grabbed for a leverage of some sort, which turned out to be the flusher.

The affair ended with Miroku and Sango on the tiled floor, and Kagome on the toilet seat. A flush broke the silence.

"Kagome," Sango groaned. "You better not be using the toilet while we're still here."

"Of course I'm not!" Kagome shouted indignantly.

"Well, you know," Miroku's grin was visible even in the darkness, "I wouldn't mind."

There was creak.

"What was that?

"Your mo–"

Sango promptly kneed him. "Knock it off, pervert."

"The humanity…" he groaned. "C'mon, how was I supposed to resist? …oh."

"The house must be shifting… or the wind," Kagome sighed. "Let's get the bandages."




"Well, thanks for the company."

It was around quarter past 8 when her two accomplices decided to take off. Tomorrow was the first day of winter break, and boy did they have plans to follow.

"I'm going to eat 20 white chocolates," Miroku declared as he and Sango walked down the shrine steps. "And 10 green tea cakes!"

"I guess I'll be seeing your abominable love handles after break too, huh?"

"Hey, that hurts!"

His mortified cry was replaced by a 'You know you like it' speech, followed by another groan.

Kagome watched the retreating figures until the night swallowed them whole. She smiled, before remembering…

"Shoot, I didn't have dinner," and mentally kicked herself.

Kagome shut the front door and hurried towards the kitchen cabinet. As she pulled out some cheap instant ramen, a floorboard creaked again.

"Knock it off," she said, feeling perfectly fine with speaking to no one in particular. "I'm making dinner."

Two hours later, she was dozing off on the family couch with an empty ramen cup on the armrest. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying much attention.

Her mind was on what took place earlier that evening.

She knew why she'd done it.

Children continue to summon ghosts and ghouls, flirting with danger and possible tragedy. The ages between 9 and 12 are labeled 'the Robinson age' by psychologists. It's the period when children need to satisfy their craving for excitement by participating in ritual games and playing in the dark. They're constantly looking for a safe way to extract pleasure and release anxiety and fears.

…at least, that's what Grandpa says.

The problem was, she had been too safe and sheltered when she was young.

"Too mature," Kagome whispered.

Suddenly, she sat up.

"Was that…" two red orbs on the television?

But it vanished as soon as it appeared. Just like before.

Kagome grabbed the remote and switched the box off, a little disturbed. She knew what she saw, yet… it couldn't be…

She stood up, grabbing the empty ramen cup and throwing it in the garbage pail before going upstairs. She had to find out, once and for all.

That's how we found Kagome, standing by herself in front of the bathroom window. It was more spacious now that she was alone, but that only made her feel all the more vulnerable.

The sword was still on the counter, where it had been left.

Maybe it wouldn't work since they had stopped at the end, with the delay and all, or it wouldn't count because she was alone now. Then again, it wouldn't (literally) hurt to try, right?

Kagome sighed. At least then her curiosity could be satiated.

The teen turned off the light, closed the door, and stood still until her eyes adjusted. She kept her eyes open and did a complete 360, clockwise. She shouted, "Tessaiga!" as she came to a halt in front of the mirror.




A smile crept up on her face.

"It was just a silly legend."

She really shouldn't have said that.

For a fleeting second, she thought she heard a low chuckle.

And the next second, she thought she felt nails claw at her wrists.

"Hey!" she yelled and reached for the lights. As the bathroom lit up she immediately examined her wrists.

There were three light scratches on both of her wrists.

"No way…"

She flung around and saw that the bathroom door had been opened ever so slightly.

"No way…"

The first thing for her to have down would've been to go straight to her bedroom, where she could've cowered like a baby. The problem was, when she rushed into the hallway, she saw that her bedroom door was ajar.

And so were all the other doors.

"But they were closed," she hissed. "They were closed."

Again, she heard the chuckle.

Kagome raced down the hall, down the staircase and into the kitchen.

"Buyo," she called out. "Buyo!" it was reasonable, of course, for a person to be consoled by their pet. To be consoled of all their worries and fears by that single, reliably faithful friend.

So it was a pity to find Buyo, perched on the roof and somewhat stuck on top of the house.

Kagome shut her mouth and squeaked when the lights suddenly went out.

A blackout?

"No way…" she repeated for the umpteenth time. "No way…"

Kagome ran to the front door. She had to think logically, now. If a burglar was inside the house, and there were evidences saying so, it'd be better if she was OUTSIDE, right?

In real life, a simple burglar didn't have the supernatural ability to follow someone without being detected as the movies suggested.

"Then again," Kagome mumbled as she got into her outdoor sandals. "He could be some psycho killer."

But she hadn't provoked anyone… recently anyway… had she?

…minus the spirit of the deceased Hanyou, but…

Kagome walked out into the open space, and, sure enough, beneath the shrine the city of Tokyo was bright as ever.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a spark of light.

It was from the shrine.

Her conscience told her not to go. Her fear held her back. But her curiosity was going haywire.

There was no electricity in the shrine, except for the fire detectors. Other than that, only small candles could've lit the ancient building. If she just snuck a peek, it would be the end of that. No way would it hurt her.

Tip-toeing towards the danger, she didn't notice what a mysterious aura the giant tree, Goshinboku, was emitting. She hid behind the wooden door and listened for anyone inside.

The door slid open on contact. So much for sneaking.

Kagome stepped back. Then moved two steps forward.

The sword was on the center of the shrine floor. Except for the stands that supported the candles lining the walls, it was a large, empty area.

"But the sword," Kagome whispered. "It was in the bathroom."

"It was."

That ghostly whisper terrified the heck out of the poor girl, who still had enough sense to step away from the voice. Unfortunately, that was into the room.

The moment both her feet were cemented to the floor, the door behind her slid shut.

"What–" Kagome cried as the floorboards began to furiously creak. It was like some kid was running around, mocking her, toying with her. "Stop it! STOP IT!"

The noise stopped. Then the candles, which had been burnt out nearly a week ago, all of a sudden lit up. One by one, it was simultaneous and instant.

Kagome had to get out. But first, the sword had to come with her – it belonged in the attic.

She quickly walked towards the center of the room, ignoring the flickering shadows and the warm candle lights. She bent down, picked up the sword, and stood back up.

Only to face red.

Her voice died halfway in her throat. Her eyes moved up, onto the neck with the prominent Adam's apple, onto the sharp chin, and onto the lips, nose and eyes of the ghost.

He had glowing red eyes – but the glow soon died and turned to what was amber colored orbs. Her eyes continued to travel upwards until it landed on the two white triangles sitting atop his head.


The ghoul sneered.

"Took you long enough."

His voice was arrogant, and it echoed around the room.

Mocking her, toying with her.

"No," she cringed. "This isn't real."

His chuckle was unbearable. She stepped back, and again she cringed. He wore a red outfit, and was barefoot. The man had mesmerizing hair that shimmered in the dim candlelit room. His face was shadowed by his bangs, but his haunting eyes weren't easy to ignore, or escape from.

"This isn't real," Kagome repeated, almost like a chant. It was all in her head. People saw what they believed, and she didn't believe.

"Oh, but I'm real," he said, one of his hands reaching for her.

She snapped. She raised the sheathed sword above her head, squeezing her eyes shut, clenching it tightly with her bare-knuckled fist, and brought it down before her with all her might, slicing the air.

It was heavy, but something stopped it mid-strike.

Kagome slowly opened her eyes.

The ghost had caught the sword with his left, clawed hand; as if it was a wet stick. Kagome realized then, that he was real.

He was also solid.

"You're…then I really…" Kagome's eyes were wider than ever.


"I'll gladly take that," Inuyasha said, pulling the sword from her hands. With her grip on the hilt weakened considerably, it was easy for him to snatch it out of her position. He held the hilt as he tied the sheath next to his hip with the bow of his dress. "Nice to see it's been well taken care of."

Kagome furiously shook her head. "So you're real… fine," Kagome's arms involuntarily shook. "Go back inside your sword, or wherever you were before."

His hearty laugh put her off.

"Don't think," he said, smiling. "For one second, it'll be that easy to get rid of me."

She let out a cry of anger when he grabbed her left wrist. She pulled her arm, trying to pry his fingers off with her other hand. "No," she hissed. "That hurts!"

His other hand shot out, grabbing her other wrist in a blink of an eye.

"And it'll keep on hurting," he said. "You've been marked, wench."

Kagome struggled, his grip tightening as she did so. "Don't call me that!" being under the scrutiny of the man's unholy gaze was bad enough.

"Wench," he smirked. That word became an endearment to his tongue.

Kagome screeched. "STOP IT! STOP IT, STOP IT!"

His grip tightened even more, blood seeping between his fingers. She froze and the color drained out of her face. The three cuts on each of her wrists.

"You're marked now," somehow his words worsened the wounds. The blood flowed fast and freely.

She didn't know whether it was the blood, or the way they had suddenly broken from public to intimate space; nonetheless, whichever her anger trigger was, she wanted out. And her anger cue was to run away.

Her tugging became wild and uncontrolled, kicking and stomping like a two year old in a tantrum. Perhaps the spirit's patience had worn off, or maybe he was amusing himself – he, either way, let her go.

Kagome stumbled back, her knees buckling as she straightened up, and without hesitation whirled around. Before even taking one step, obviously towards the door and the only escape, the man encircled and locked her neck in his arm with inhuman speed. She managed to get her left hand between her throat and his left arm, fighting off suffocation and some discomfort.

The Hanyou caressed her cheek, his claw tracing her white skin. "Five hundred years… I've almost forgotten what it's like to touch someone," he said as he grabbed her free forearm. "Much less a human woman."

With her back on his chest, she pushed forward trying to distance herself. But her legs went limp.

"Your lifeline is now mine," he whispered in her ear, his breath sending a shudder down her spine. "You are my entity."

"You can't do that," Kagome's weak whisper was barely audible. His dog ears tweaked.

"But of course. I thank you for my resurrection," he replied in a hushed tone, and tightened his stranglehold. He grabbed her wrist and brought it to his lips.

With a delicate, loving lick of her wounds, she began to realize she was now completely under his mercy.

He licked his lips, enjoying every last droplet of her blood. "Lifeblood. Delicious, isn't it?"

Kagome, seeing spots, could only word one thing. "No."

"Wench," a cocky smirk played about his lips. "Why don't you try saying that thirteen times?"

She looked up at the demon, a weak child looking up at the face of a real-life monster.

"You're so good at it too," the monster smiled. "You did wake me up."

The candle lights burnt out, engulfing them in darkness.









AN: Spooky, huh? I could see this becoming a real story. If anyone decides to do just that, review and tell me. All I have to say other than that is I hope you enjoyed it.

Ciao and Adieu!