Drabbles

Fic writing is a trick on it's own, keeping the cast in character, or bending them in a believable manner.  When you add a limit like 100 words to the mix, things tend to get interesting.

For the moment, all drabbles are in the Hero in the 21st Century universe.


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Reincarnation
Thought on life and death and life...
LMH
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It was funny, how reincarnation worked.

She looked like Kikyou; she knew she did.  Flatten her hair, slap on an ‘emotionally-dead’ expression, and there it was.  They probably could have passed for twins when Kikyou was 15.

But Inuyasha...he’d come back looking almost nothing like himself.  There were touches, around the eyes, the shape of his hands, but that was it.  No white hair, no fangs, no claws.  No dog ears.

But he remembered it all, every day of that wonderful, magical, painful, devastating year.  And she was the mirror-image of a dead woman.

Yeah, reincarnation was real funny.



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Little Things
A double drabble - 200 words
LMH
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He says he’s entirely human now, but she isn’t so sure.  His eyes are an ordinary brown, but sometimes,  when he’s angry enough, she can see the gold in them.  It’s more subtle than blood red and turquoise blue, true, but it’s not quite ordinary.

His nose is sensitive, as well.  He can’t quite read her faintest shift in mood from 100 paces now, but he knows almost before she does when she’s sick, when she has a fever, when anything has changed.

His hand rests possessively over one of those changes now.  It is a different hand from the one she knew, smoother, softer, though still square-palmed and long-fingered.  The ragged claws have been replaced by smooth nails, neatly trimmed,  though he eschews anything as fancy as a manicure.  There is a faint line of earth under each nail, a testimony to his profession that allows him to be wrist deep in the past everyday.  Now this hand guards the slight swell of her abdomen where their soon-to-be-child sleeps and grows.  A lock of miso-red hair trails across his arm to rest on her chest. 

No one thing about him can be said to be the same, and yet, it make no difference to her.  Underneath all the little things, he is still the boy she loved, and that is all that matters.



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Loyalty
In honor of Book 15
LMH
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What had he ever done to deserve this?

Hadn’t he always been loyal?  Hadn’t he always served humbly, faithfully, one step to the side and behind his master, repaying the trust the master had shown him?  Wasn’t he youkai, like the master, though never considering him to be anything approaching equal?

Jaken peeped one more time through the window, staff clutched tight in his tiny green hands.  The hanyou-turned-human and his miko wench were engaged in some kind of wrestling match on the bed.  Perhaps they’d finally been driven to do violence upon one another?

One could only hope.



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Windy City
First attempt at a drabble.  A little long, but who's counting?
LMH
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Kagome hated Chicago.

Exiting the El, Inuyasha was certain.  He’d taken his bright, cheerful and outgoing wife and dragged her 6000 miles to a city she couldn’t stand.

He’d done it for her.  Much as she loved Tokyo, it was filled with memories of the dead boy she’d loved, memories he’d worked to replace.

But Tokyo was home, and America was hard, too.  Too hard for a girl whose love had died in her arms.

He opened the door.  “Tadaima.”

She smiled at him, and he took in the happy music and her cheerful chatter about helping a friend as a teacher’s aide.

She teased him into dancing, and he grinned.  Maybe he’d been wrong. 

Kagome loved Chicago.


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