Direct Hit



Authors Note: Hello to all my lovely readers. I'm back again, Earthshake actually inspired me to try and write more shortened fanfiction, one-shots or few-chaptered fics. For some reason one-shots and short fics are harder for me to do, but I think writing them will be a good exercise for my skills, and I hope to improve my storytelling.

Anyway, it's just a cute, little (multi chaptered!) fic, and I hope it makes you smile. I'm also veering away from my usual third-person POV, so bare with me. I'm rusty with first-person. I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Kagome, or Hojou for that matter. I do own a kite, however. Can I make some money off of that? No? Damn.

Dedication: To my boyfriend (awwww), for reading over this and finding one mistake. That's why I love you, baby.

Rating: It has some foul language, People! And Inuyasha has a… lustfully vivid imagination.

Written To: The Outer Banks by The Album Leaf. Download it and listen while you read!



Chapter 1



Today is Friday, and there she is again, just like clockwork, leaning over the counter at her checkout station.

I'm in the bread isle, watching her as she flips through one of the trashy celebrity magazines that make up for more than half the merchandise at her station. I watch as she wrinkles her nose, obviously reading something she's not pleased at, and flips the page. I try to get up the courage to walk up and place my hand-held basket of groceries on the conveyer belt. After a few failed attempts, I finally start walking towards the counter, which is empty save for her. She looks up suddenly, sees me coming, waves. A smile spreads across her face.

My courage fails again. Quickly I dart into the next isle – water and juice – and stroll down until I reach the other end, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my ears twitching anxiously. Then I berate myself for being such a fucking pussy.

I'm not normally like this, mind you. I don't normally feel nervous around people, especially girls. Especially pretty girls. No, pretty girls I've always been good with. Pretty girls are what I do. I'm a rugged college history professor, and for some reason girls dig it. I think it might be an Indiana Jones fetish, although I've never been out of the country, and I've certainly never been almost run over by giant boulders. Nor has any crazy Indian holy man ever try to rip through my chest with his fingernails to tear out my heart.

Yeah, it's gotta be the rugged thing.

But this checkout girl isn't really pretty. Although she is, in a strange sort of unconventional way. What I mean is that she's pretty, but she doesn't wear makeup save for some black on the eyelashes, and she's usually in her work uniform and not dressed to impress like most of the women I meet. She's bland and plain and stunning, and my heart sets off racing every time I walk into Yoshii's Groceries and see her there, either bored out of her mind reading trash magazines or smiling kindly and gently to those she's ringing up. She can make conversation easily with complete strangers. She's done it with me a few times, and I always end up just grunting like a jackass.

Fidgeting with the cuff of my shirt, I bite against my lip and tell myself that I'm getting worked up over nothing. That I could easily talk to her like I talk to everyone else. That she's no different than any other woman and holds no power over me.

Except that she does, and I know it. She's confident and strong-willed, and I can tell so by the simple conversations we've had the times she's actually spoken to me. And she doesn't just up and drool all over me either, or change her voice to all high-pitched and annoyingly giggly like most girls do, which always manages to hurt my sensitive ears. That's not to say that I don't notice the changes in her body when she sees me. I am hanyou, after all. She blushes. It's faint, but I see it every time. I hear her heart rate increase, I smell her desire. But I'll be damned if she doesn't show it on the outside. No, she just stays calm and collected and smiles up at me every time, her eyes shining and kind looking, and tells me how much cash I have to fork over.

Those are the times I get to touch her skin. I always make sure I pay in cash so I don't use the credit terminals, because I can feel her fingertips graze across the palm of my hand as she takes the cash from me. It's like liquid heat, that touch.

Shit, I'm getting hard just imagining it, standing in the middle of the water isle, looking like a complete fool. Isn't this called stalking, coming into the store to grab things I don't need every day just to see her? Just to touch her hand? To catch a whiff of her light perfume?

I groan out loud, but at this point I can't tell if it's because I'm obviously an idiot, or I'm just plain horny.

"Hello again, can I help you find something?"

I spin on my heel and my eyes go wide as I see her, standing there in front of me, head tilted up to look at me, a pleasant smile plastered on her pretty lips.

"Uh…" I answer smartly. I move the basket to cover my hard-on, obvious through my tan, cotton, teaching pants, but she doesn't seem to notice anyway, thank you Gods.

"You seemed a little lost, I was wondering if maybe you were looking for something in particular?" Her voice is sweet, and I'm still stunned, frozen, shocked that I hadn't noticed her approach. I could have easily avoided her then.

I yell at myself to shut my gaping mouth, as her eyes change from pleasantly helpful to slightly concerned, and I can smell her cautious fear start to radiate. She thinks I'm doing something weird or off, and in a way, I am.

I clear my throat and gain my bearings and shake my head slightly. "What the hell makes you think I need anything?" I bite out.

Her entire expression changes now, and I mentally beat the crap out of myself. What the fuck was that? What the hell am I thinking?! That is not what I was going to say, I was going to ask where the seltzer water was, play like I honestly can't smell the stuff, which, incidentally, is right across he isle from me.

It's too late to take back my words now, and I feel my face turn into a scowl at how I'm acting – completely and utterly stupid. But she seems to think I'm scowling at her, and now the cautious fear is replaced by agitated anger. Such anger, in fact, that I'm surprised when her face turns back to a pleasant smile, a controlled one, mind you, but a pleasant one all the same. A full human wouldn't know that she is probably thinking of the many ways to tear my head off, but I can smell that she wants to do so.

I've pissed her off.

Instead of killing me though, she merely shrugs. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll be up front when you're ready to check out." Then she bows and turns, taking stiff steps back to her station.

When she moves around the corner I let out a gush of air. I'm relieved that I'm not looking into her eyes, the ones that just told me she's not okay with the way I talked to her.

What the hell came over me? It was like I couldn't stop my mouth from spewing crap. I'm an idiot.

Regaining my composure and making sure my "little hanyou" was under control, I grab a bottle of seltzer water and chuck it angrily into my handheld basket and walk up to the station – the only one open, of course. It's in the early hours of the morning, and she's the only one up front. It's deserted. I lift the basket up and place it gently onto the counter, keeping my gaze purposely focused on trying to find my wallet.

I don't speak to her, and for a few seconds, I think she's going to do the entire transaction speechless herself… which would make this whole fiasco I've put myself through pointless. But then the manager walks by, and she brightens into a wide smile, obviously faked, and looks up into my eyes.

"Find everything okay, sir?"

I don't answer, afraid of what I'll say if I open my mouth again. So I just nod, jerking my head awkwardly.

"Have you seen our special item today?" She asks, pointing to a lame display on the counter. "Buy five and get two for…" she trails off as her manager walks out of hearing distance. She doesn't finish.

I can't help myself. "Get two for what?"

"For nothing." She mutters, her anger now showing. "Sorry, the sale just ended."

"Hmmm," I say, enjoying myself even though I shouldn't, as I've already been a complete ass. "I think I'll take the sale."

"You can't. It ended." She insists.

I raise my eyebrow. "Oh? Should I ask your manager, then?" I raise my hand to call the plump man back in this direction but she hisses at me to stop.

"Fine. Here!" She exclaims, hurriedly swiping five and throwing two in for free. They're bottles of flavored water.

"Thanks." I feel myself smiling, cocky-like, trying to push her buttons a bit farther. I'm curious about her temper. "I love… er," I glance down at the flavored water, "kiwi."

"Mmm," she agreed humorlessly, ringing up the rest of my items, "it should go great with your seltzer water."

I chuckle as she swipes the last of what is in my basket. Then I make a show of checking her nametag – I don't want her knowing I've known her name since the first time I laid eyes on her – and nod. "Yes, it should, Kagome." Then I pause, as she presses the button that brings my price up.

"That's 3,250 yen."

"Gladly." The money is already in my hand, and I watch as she reaches out to take it. I feel her fingers on my palm, and before I know it, I clasp my clawed hand around hers, money and all.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and I hear her heart skip a little beat, although she doesn't look afraid. Excited maybe?

Hey, I can hope.

She looks up to meet my gaze, and I can't tear away. Her smell is driving me crazy. I open my mouth. "Thanks for helping me earlier. I was rude."

"Yes, you were." She relaxes in my grasp, and I'm thrilled.

"Thank you."

Her brow cocks. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

Now my eyes narrow, and I grasp onto her tighter as she tries to pull away. "No." I growl out through clenched teeth. "It was a thank you, for trying to help me earlier." I try to keep my anger from resurfacing, but she has an annoying habit of making my emotions go haywire.

"Well, you can just keep your thank you. What I want is an apology."

My mouth falls open in slight shock at her defiance, and she takes advantage of my surprise to yank her hand – and the money – away.

"Y-yeah?" I sputter out, having failed miserably at trying to stay calm.. Instead of me pushing her buttons, she's pushing mine. How did she turn it around so fast? "Well, you can forget it, wench, I ain't apologizing!"


"Fine!" I pick up my items in their plastic bags and stick my tongue out at her, smiling triumphantly on the inside at her surprised gasp. Very immature for someone who teaches college classes, I know. She brings out the worst in me. "Wench." I snarl out at her as I head towards the exit.

"Kagome!" She shouts out after me. "Ka-Go-ME!"

Yeah, I know your fucking name. Your fucking beautiful name. I think these thoughts but don't say them. I can't tell her I've known her name since I first laid eyes on her. I angrily stomp towards my car, seething. Opening the back passenger door, I throw the bags of groceries inside before slamming it, then walk over to the drivers side and slide in, slamming that door too. Then I fume to myself.

Ugh. Why does she make my emotions go through the roof like that? One moment I want to grab her and throw her up onto that stupid counter that's always separating us and kiss her so passionately she'd only be able to cry one word – my name, and the next I want to shake those damn magazine racks by her counter down and tear them to shreds. One second I'm horny as fuck, and the next I'm spitting mad. Why is it never simple with her?

I sit in my car and seethe until I'm finally breathing at a normal rhythm. I turn on the ignition and pull out of my spot, heading home. I have a class to teach in two hours.



Today is Saturday, and when I wake up and remember this I can't help but relax and smile a bit, stretching my hands up high above my head and yawning my sleep away.

Saturday. I hate Saturdays and I love Saturdays. I used to purely love Saturdays, but not anymore, not for the past five weeks. Because now I have a new routine.

Saturdays used to consist of waking up, working out, lounging around and reading history books, having a late lunch with Miroku and his girlfriend, and then catching a movie with the date of the week.

Today I don't have a date. In fact, I haven't had one for the past five Saturdays. That's because I always convince myself that this Saturday will be the day I ask Kagome the Yoshii's Groceries girl out to see a movie. And for the past five Saturdays I've chickened out.

I really am a fuckin' pussy.

Saturdays now consist of waking up from dreaming about Kagome, working out while thinking about Kagome, lounging around and reading history books while trying not to think about Kagome, walking over to the park where Kagome flies a kite every Saturday and pretend to read while I'm really watching Kagome, then I don't ask her out and instead go have lunch with Miroku and his girlfriend and complain about Kagome. Finally I head home dejected and way more tired than I should be – dateless, angry, and horny.


But I refuse to hate Saturdays at all from now on. Because today will be the day I ask Kagome the Yoshii's Groceries girl out, and after she says yes, I'll purely love Saturdays again. I'll even go above and beyond what I normally do. I won't just ask her today, I'm going to go to that stupid park and fly this stupid kite that I bought, just for this stupid situation that I've put myself into. I yawn again and stretch once more before hopping out of bed and walking into the living room to grab some coffee.

My living room is cluttered with student term papers, research papers of my own, history books mostly about the Edo period, some CD's that are nothing but clutter because of my iPod, and right in the center of it all, smack dab on my couch is a brand new kite – unused and unopened. It's pure white and is supposed to take the shape of a dog, once it's up in the air, although I don't see how as I'm looking down at the flattened contraption. It looks like a mess of paper and string.

Who could ever possibly find joy in flying a kite? I can understand watching people flying kites to be joyful – or rather, watching Kagome flying kites to be joyful – but actually flying them…?

I shake my head and move on to my kitchen, which is less messy than the rest of my apartment as I mostly eat out. I take the coffee pot on my counter and run it under some water, rinsing it out before I fill it up. I shuffle back to the coffee machine and pour the water into the top, placing the bowl back onto the heated bottom. The coffee grounds are already in the filter from last night.

I yawn a final time, getting the sleepiness all the way out of my system before I shuffle back into my bedroom and open a dresser drawer, taking out my favorite pair of faded jeans and pull them on, stretching again before I walk to my closet and choose my lucky shirt. Well, it isn't really a lucky shirt, it's just my most expensive one. One that my effeminate older brother bought me for Christmas a few years back but cost about a million dollars. Okay, only about three hundred-something, I checked online, but it's still too much for a shirt, I don't care who designed it. Someone Italian. Whatever, but I figure that I have to go all out, so I pull the shirt over my head and glance at myself in the mirror.

Huh. Not bad. It's white with brown, making it look wrinkled when it's not, and it has some sort of Italian word that I can't read written across it, although I know what it says. I looked that up on the internet too. Wouldn't put it past Sesshoumaru to buy me a shirt with something offensive on the front. I shrug at my reflection, knowing that at least today I'll look my best as I head into my bathroom.

The phone rings just then, and I rush into my living room to snatch it up on the last ring. "What?" I bite out, agitated at whoever is bothering me on a Saturday morning.

"Hello to you, too." Miroku's cheery, sarcastic voice drifts to my ears, and they twitch in annoyance.

"Waddaya want, I'm getting ready to head out." I say as I head back into my bathroom. I grab my toothbrush and squeeze some paste onto it.

"To the gym?"

I nod, then roll my eyes because he obviously can't see me and grunt a yes, my mouth full of bristles.

"Mind if I join you today?"

My brow raises and I pause but say nothing.

"Sango has been harping on me to work out lately, but I don't want to go alone."

I spit into the sink and grin. "What, she thinks you're getting fat?"

"No, she's worried about me getting fat."

"Have you told her about your magical metabolism? I've never seen anyone eat so much and gain nothing."

"Does it matter? Can I meet you out front?"

"Don't be late." I growl and hang up the phone. I grab for the mouthwash a take a swig, swishing it around until I can't stand the burn, then spit out into the sink again, turning on the water and rinsing out my mouth.

As my taste buds slowly become functional again, I quickly run my hands through my hair and throw it up into a loose ponytail at the nape of my neck, grabbing my best casual jacket as I go. I don't even want to remember how much this designer jacket cost me. But it's the best of my best, and I'm going to snag this girl whether I have to do it through looks or through charm. Or through looks, as most ex-girlfriends have let me know quite forcefully that I have no charm.

I growl at the thought. …I have charm.

I leave my apartment and close the door behind me.



Miroku snorts at me, much to my amazement, over the loud clamor of various people working up a sweat around us. "Your looks I could understand," he pokes at my ego, "but your charm?"

"Hey!" I retort back, much less out of breath than my fully-human best friend. "I have plenty of charm!"

He rolls his eyes as he gasps for breath. He's pushing it and he knows it. "You have about as much charm as Jaken." He hits the stop button on his machine and grabs onto the handlebars, sweat dripping off his forehead, heaving air in and out through his open mouth.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Do not compare me to Sesshoumaru's personal assistant, Miroku. Maybe I don't have a way with the ladies like you do, but when the hell have I ever been dateless?"

Through his exhaustion, Miroku looks up pointedly.

"Except for the last week or so." I add, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

"Ha!" He shouts, taking a shaky step off the mill. I'm still running. I've barely broken a sweat. "Try the last five weeks! I've been counting as well, you know."

"As well as who?" I try not to let my concern show but fail miserably.

"Sango." He wipes at his brow with a white, fluffy hand towel. "You haven't brought a girl to lunch in a while. Usually you have some bimbo-ish female with big boobs and an annoying giggle clinging onto you."

I don't answer; I just turn the speed up on the treadmill. I try to ignore him but he's still there, his eyes boring into my back. I know what he's thinking.

"Dude, just ask her out." I hear Miroku say, his voice calm.

But I'm not calm. I can't be calm. Because no other girl I've ever come across has stuck in my mind like this. Well, except for her, but I'm not going there.

"Is it because she resembles Kikyou?"

Fucks' sake. Leave it to Miroku to read my mind and bring up the one thing I want kept quiet. I pound at the stop button on my machine and slowly turn to look at him with narrow, accusing eyes.

"She doesn't resemble Kikyou." I bite out slowly. Making sure he knows that I mean it.

Miroku only shrugged. "You gotta admit the resemblance is there. The hair, the eyes, the nose, the skin…" He trails off, a glazed sort of expression falling over him.

"Snap out of it, you fuckin' perv." I demand, snapping my fingers in front of his face. "And Kagome looks nothing like Kikyou."


"No!" I retort, a bit too fast for even myself to believe. So I sigh and close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "…Well, maybe she looks a little like her," I admit, "when I first saw her. But… well… the smell is off." And it's true. The smell is completely different.

"The smell?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Different."

Miroku dropped the hand towel to his side and shook his head, a slow grin creeping up onto his cheeks. "Man, Inuyasha. You've got it bad."

I open my mouth to completely deny his claims, but nothing comes out. I can't even disregard his statement because it's utterly, terribly true.

"Oh Gods." I groan, letting my face fall into my hands as I sit down next to him on the bench. "I don't even know how it happened! At first, I actually had thought she was Kikyou. I almost up and dragged her out of the store when I saw her. Then I realized it wasn't her, and she was so damn nice."

Miroku grins and I growl.

"And the smell almost stunned me. I don't know." I crinkle my nose in slight self-disgust. "Its actually really fucking stupid. I should just forget about her and shop for food somewhere else."

"Hmmm." Miroku's face turns from teasing to thoughtful, which is kind of a surprise. I was expecting more of his under-the-belt jabs. "Or maybe," he mused, "you should ask her out and see where it goes. I mean, what is the worst she could possibly say?"

"No. She could say no."

"She won't. Just show her some of that charm." Then he winced. "On second thought, just keep your mouth shut and let your looks do the talking."

I swipe at him, but he ducks.

Slippery bastard.



I wave a reluctant goodbye to Miroku as I head away from the gym and towards the park, my new kite tucked safely under my arm, my designer clothes not really doing their job of protecting me against the wind. It's not an unbelievably strong wind, mind you, but it's chilly, and I berate myself for being a dumb-ass and not wearing something warmer. However, I don't believe girls are impressed with windbreakers, so designer it is.

Man, Miroku is right. I do have it bad, and I feel like an idiot for feeling this way. Once I kick myself for worrying over my attire, I immediately kick myself for not worrying about what I'm going to say to her. How exactly will I strike up a conversation? "So sorry, didn't mean to be a jackass yesterday, you just caught me by surprise while I was imagining you naked." Yeah, that'd go over great.

The problem is she wears at my temper. Makes me feel angry and hot and needy and obsessive, and I want to feel them about her. It's addicting, and it scares the crap out of me. But I can't stop myself. I can't stop myself from being absolutely ridiculous and stalker-like.

Stalker-like. Yup, that's me, a freaking stalker, walking to the park with a stupid kite I have no intention of ever using except in the presence of Kagome.

…Which, thinking about it now, I probably should have practiced flying the kite. What am I going to do, wing it? It can't be that hard to fly this stupid thing, right?

Minutes after leaving the gym I reach the outskirts of the park, which is actually quite full as parks go, with a good deal of kites up in the sky. I have to shield my eyes to look up at them, the sun is intense even though it's cold.

I have to search a bit to find Kagome, but I catch her scent, the one I would recognize anywhere. The one I could pick out in a room full of girls, no problem. Her scent sends the heaviest signal.

She's there, dressed in a sweater and jeans, standing on the top of a grassy knoll, her hands delicately holding the kite string. As I watch, I imagine those hands on me. In my hair, touching my face, trailing down my chest, grasping onto my… I cough, clearing my thoughts of those images. The last thing I need to be thinking about while I ask her out is how she, uh… strokes.

Instead I focus on her face. It's relaxed, serene almost, her features soft and peaceful. She's beautiful. I imagine her lips in my hair, kissing my eyes, nipping at my tongue, trailing a hot path down my chest and sucking softly on- Holy shit, I need to freaking STOP. I'm going crazy.

I decide to open up my kite and try to piece it together. It's clumsy work, and I don't help myself much, but I manage to get it done, and as I stand up triumphantly, a little more jubilant than I should have, I glance over my shoulder and catch her looking – no – glairing at me, her eyes narrowed, her full lips hidden in a straight line, her face flushed and her nose wrinkled in distaste. I only catch a glimpse of her murderous look before she turns away stiffly, trying to pretend that she didn't just wish death upon me, but I still catch enough to notice that when she's pissed she's still fuckin' cute.


I wince at how my chances of her accepting to accompany me anywhere has just changed from a watery 'maybe' to a completely solid 'fuck you' and my resolve wavers. Only for an instant though, because I'm hanyou, and I'm a fuckin' stubborn bastard. And I can't for the life of me get her to leave my dreams/thoughts/nightmares alone. Go figure.

Sighing, I turn to watch some kids get their kite up in the air, and it only takes me a few tries to get it up and into the sky. Following their lead, I run a few feet and, thankfully, am immediately successful. I watch my kite for a few moments, trying to figure out the strange, almost peaceful feeling that starts to seep in me. For a moment I almost forget why I'm at the park in the first place.


Taking in a deep breath to still my erratically-beating-heart, I inch closer to her, ever so slightly, trying to watch her as well as my stupid kite. As easy as it was to get into the air, I'm having trouble controlling it right, the damn wind keeps making it loop all stupid so that I can't get it to go where I want it to. It takes a bit, but I finally make it so I'm positioned just a few feet away, and now both of our kites are up in the sky together, dipping and weaving and dancing in an almost beautiful way. It's strange, but it's like the kites all belong together up there, in the sky, the fluffy, white clouds painting a sort of dewy backdrop in between the rays of sunlight.

Her kite is girly, a heart with wings attached, looking like it belongs in the sky, like it stays up there without a string to pull it down, while mine looks like a white dog chasing it around as if it were obsessed.

Strange that it's her heart I'm actually chasing, and me, nothing but a dog, a youkai, a hanyou.

Suddenly I lose my nerve. What the hell am I thinking? She's probably going to call the police, or some large brother that I know nothing about. Not that I'm scared of large guys, or older brothers, for my brother is probably the worst alive, but I don't want to deal with any of that crap.

I just want to ask her out.

And fuck her like crazy, I want to do that, too.

But the sexual fantasies aren't enough. I want to argue with her, too. I want to push her buttons and see how hard she can push mine. I want to see how far we can push each other until it's too far. I want to see if she thinks about me like I think about her, every day, every night, painfully aware of her existence in the world, even when I'm not anywhere close to her. She lingers on me, around me, in me.

I must be insane.

I'm about to give in. Pack it up and go home, but suddenly, she's right there, right beside me, our arms almost touching, and the wind blows her hair up to my face and I smell her scent and I want to immediately pick her up and push her pretty, girly lips onto my own and taste her. To take her as mine and completely lose myself. I want her body pressed up against mine, flush together. I want to feel her quivering with the unleashed emotion I can clearly feel myself fighting to regain control over.

I clench my teeth together. It's never been this strong. I've never reacted this way, even to her. I can feel my youkai blood churning in my veins. It's painful. It hurts. The need is crazy.

And then she speaks.

"What are you doing here?"

I don't answer, I'm afraid that if I open my mouth I'll shove my lips over hers and control her. I'm afraid to taste her scent now. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop, even if she wants me to.

"Don't be a jerk." She imitates my growl, except it sound cute rather than threatening. "Did you follow me?"

Her accusation sparks my anger, momentarily forgetting that I'm trying not to devour her. "No, I didn't follow you, I bought a kite and I wanted to fly it."

She frowns. "You don't fly kites."

"Keh." I say. "How would you know something like that?"

"I see you here all the time, and you're always reading and brooding." She replies. "You're not the kite-flying type. You're temper is too quick." She sticks out her tongue at me. It's pink and cute and I want it on me.

"I'm not the one who shouts at my customers over nothing." I snap, trying to force my true thoughts down. Down, boy, down.

She growls, and it surprises me again. It's weird that she can do that so well. "Whatever, can you move? Do you have to stand right by me?"

"Hey, you're the one that came over to me!"

"Well, you're the one that came into my park, you- You- You kite-faker!"

Her tone is vicious, although her words a bit childish; even so I can't deny the fact that it's getting me hot. "Kite-faker?!" I snort, crossing my arms and trying to tower over her more than I already am. "What kind of insult is that?"

"Well, I'm sorry," she sneers, "that I don't have the mouth of a sailor."

"Actually," I say, snippy-like, "I have the mouth of a youkai, thank you." I wait for her scared, timid reaction to the word youkai, but she doesn't react at all.

"You are nothing but a big, mean jerk."

I'm so caught up in her. In her smell, in her eyes, in the angry, annoyed, furious, adorable expression on her face that I forget I'm holding a kite. I forget that we're standing in the middle of the park, and I forget that it's so windy out.

She opens her mouth to retort, and my heart skips in excitement as I smell her scent flare to life. She's pissed. I can't wait to hear what she'll say, how she'll drive me to the next step, what she'll do as her cute nose scrunches up in anger.

I'm leaning in and she's up on the tips of her toes, trying to get her words to sink in. Her eyes quickly turn from angry to surprised to confused, and I hear a tiny gasp as our lips almost touch. Almost.

She freezes. Oh shit, it was an accident, I hadn't meant to get that close to her.

Then my kite string violently jerks at my hand, and I turn to look up at the stupid contraption. Kagome does the same.

"Oh!" She exclaims, because our kites have tangled themselves, and now they're swooping and diving in erratic patterns. Kagome quickly jumps into action, biting the bottom of her lip as she concentrate on gaining control. I, however, merely fumble and yank impatiently on the string, trying to tear the dumb things apart.

"Quit it!" She cries out, not bothering to look in my direction, "you're just making it worse! You're such a brute!"

I narrow my eyes at her. I am not a brute! But she can't see my glare. "Keh!" I shout back over the wind, "I'm not doin' nothin'!"

Everything seems to stop cold. Her lips are open and I'm expecting to get an earful, but nothing comes out of her mouth except for a tiny squeak, and now, in this instant, I remember that I'm flying a kite. The string is still in my hand. And the wooden frame of the kite is no longer in the air.

I watch as it bounces off her head. A sound, like a solid knock rings in my ears, and I rear back in shock to see her eyes go wide, and in a flash she crumples. Lucky for me, I'm faster than a flash, and my arms reach out and catch her, my hands close around her body and I feel her weight as I pull her against me.

Her eyes are closed and her mouth is slack.

She's been knocked out by my kite. A direct hit.

"Oh, for fucks sake! Kagome!" I'm shaking her on the shoulder, but she's not responding.

I shake her again and nothing happens. Finally, I scoop her up bridal-style and head away from the park, towards the hospital. It's a good distance away, but walkable. I'd run, but I fear she has a concussion.

We're almost to the park's edge when she moans, low and long. I freeze and immediately sit down on a nearby bench, her head resting softly in my lap as I gently stroke her hairline, trying to coax her awake.

"Mmm.." She groans, her eyelids fluttering.

"Kagome?" I whisper, wondering if she's awake or not.

She doesn't answer me, but her mouth opens to speak.

"Inuyasha, why do you…?" Her voice trails off.

I'm stunned. It's easy to know why I know her name, she wears a nametag to work everyday. But how in the Gods name does she know mine? Curious, I lean in closer, watching her intently. Her lips move wordlessly, but then I catch a sound and lean my ear in close to her mouth.

"Inuyasha, why do you hate me?" She asks.

Forgetting that she's out of it, I reply. "I don't hate you," I say.

I look down at her pretty features, out cold to the world, and wonder why she would think such a thing. Miroku and Sango had no trouble telling that I was head-over-heels for her, so why couldn't she see it herself?






Authors Note: Well, there it is, I hope you guys enjoy it. Second chapter is about a third complete. Not promising a posting date, because I'm currently trying my hand at an original novel of my own, but I still need to post fanfiction to fill the need of others reading my work!

As always, review, I'd love to know what you think. I'm curious how you feel Inuyasha acted in this fic, someone told me he was ooc, but I'm inclined to disagree. Also, did it flow well to you? Helpful reviews would be lovely.

Anyway, thanks again guys. I hope to see you soon with the next chapter!