Summary: AU, IY/Kag, M/S. A celebrity's life may seem all glitter and glam, but between Hong Kong Triads bosses, candid photographers, physical abuse, death, depression, and being surrounded by utterly untalented pop stars, it's not a smooth drive…

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Disclaimer: Inuyasha is the property of Rumiko Takahashi, not me. The story was inspired by the SnowShadowUser's "Get a Life!"

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A/n: Ooh goody, crossing over from Escaflowne to the Inuyasha fandom. In other words, yes, this is my first Inuyasha fic, but you don't have to dwell on that. This prologue was split into two parts mainly because it was so damn long. 28 pages single spaced on Microsoft Word, just short of 18,000 words by a few hundred.

This is rated mostly for language but it will slip into some R-movie territory later in the story. For now, the content is pretty PG-13 (maybe even PG but I'm being cautious. All those deleted stories…).

Thanks to EmeraldDragon and Rhoda for beta-reading!

Warning: Lengthy authors note at the end.

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Driven to Ascent by dawnsama

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Prologue, Part I: Aftershock

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The confusion probably originated from Miroku, Kagome's brother. Before it all erupted, before the madness, before the chaos and trouble, before Kagome was even born, a man in a suit approached Mrs. Higurashi and a three year old Miroku and declared that he would make Miroku a star.

What happened afterward led on to Miroku's first magazine shoot, and then his first commercial. The man was a shrewd businessman but he took care of his clients. He did indeed turn Miroku into a child modeling sensation.

By the time Kagome was born three years after the faithful meeting, Miroku had already received acting offers and starred in many high-caliber (and high paying) commercials and advertisements. Four years after Kagome's birth, when their brother Souta was born, Miroku had already earned enough money to pay for any college education he might want and received offers from all over the globe

Kagome and Souta themselves were not interested in the modeling business, despite the many offers presented to them. They saw Miroku in a heroic light. Looking at one of Miroku's advertisements, they saw their big brother as a champion, their idol. Only Miroku could do such brilliant things. It was not their place to do something only Miroku deserved to do. So Kagome and Souta led a fairly normal life at their family shrine with Papa, Mama, and their maternal grandfather in Tokyo, Japan while Miroku stayed home for eight out of twelve months of the year, the remaining four months spend at photo shoots on location.

When Miroku was eleven, Mr. and Mrs. Higurashi realized with a shock how much Miroku had missed from his childhood. After much debate and discuss, they decided to put Miroku's career on an indefinite hiatus to concentrate on his studies. Miroku complained a little but relented easily. Perhaps he wanted a break from it all.

At the time when the ages of the Higurashi children were 15, 9, and 5, Miroku expressed a strong desire to resume his career. The next thing Asia knew he made a strong return back to the showbiz world with enough glitter and glam to shame the stars. His face appeared in fashion outlets in nearly every mall in Japan and anyone vaguely read magazines recognized his smile from the multitude of advertisements that appeared every few articles. This time, however, Miroku went further into fame. After a few modeling jobs and commercials, Miroku decided to exercise talents other than his looks.

Half a year after his return, Miroku released a solo pop album with a prestigious record label. As most musical artists do if (or when) their premiere album reaches platinum status, Miroku suddenly left home again to perform in a regional tour, which then turned into a national tour, then regional, then world wide.

At age 16, home-schooled Miroku graduated from high school early and relocated from the family shrine to Hong Kong. He got his first big-movie acting job. The movie he starred in was a regular teen-flick that resulted in a blockbuster flop, but it showcased Miroku's talents, potential and good looks perfectly. Afterward, Miroku suddenly appeared all over the media, whether it was in commercials, talk shows, or soap operas. Everything seemed to be within Miroku's grasp and everything in the Higurashi's life was perfect.

But good things do not last forever.

At what seemed to be the pinnacle of Miroku's career, two years after his return to fame, when he had received the Best New Artist music award (a huge advance in his career), the Accident happened.

It was a tragic accident. On a cool, October morning, Mr. and Mrs. Higurashi were driving their son Souta to his new elementary school. As the light turned green, Mr. Higurashi was turning around in the passenger seat to reassure Souta that his school would be just fine, he would make many new friends and have a wonderful time. It was at this moment that a huge van decided to run the red light, regardless of the cars before it. Just as Mr. Higurashi turned, his head snapped back as the van slammed into the side of the car, causing it to skid across the intersection and crash into the cement wall of a public car parking.

Mr. Higurashi died instantly when his neck broke. Souta had forgotten to put his seat belt on and suffered great pain from the impact before he died minutes after the crash. Mrs. Higurashi almost survived but passed away on the ambulance from blood loss.

In the middle of shooting a movie in Mainland China, Miroku abruptly left the set without warning, catching the earliest flight back to Tokyo. It angered and insulted most of the producers and agents at first, who had not received any explanation of any kind of his sudden departure. They didn't even blink in sympathy when he called the next day, explaining his reason. Progress in the movie was at the point where they could not go on with Miroku's absence without dropping the production all together. As this movie had much promise and money riding on its success, they had no choice but to wait for Miroku's return.

Not that Miroku could care less. The sudden death of his parents had severely shaken him. He stayed in Tokyo a month after the funeral to grieve and support Kagome in her new life.

The Higurashi family had lived at the family shrine for as long as anyone could remember. As Grandpa Higurashi still legally owned the shrine, the shrine had not been lost with the three deaths. Grandpa was also still active and healthy so Kagome was not sent away to other relatives

But despite the fact that Kagome was significantly luckier than other children who have lost their parents, she could not appreciate her circumstances.

She just could not.

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Kagome sat on the shrine steps, doing her homework, or at least pretending to. Grandpa was sweeping the shrine grounds, whistling and chatting with the temple patrons. Chewing the end of her pencil, Kagome stared hard at the mathematical equation on her sheet of paper, slightly hoping that her stare would burn a hole through the paper. Maybe she would be excused from doing it if it burned…

She snorted at that thought. She could just imagine the reaction to that excuse. "Excuse me sensei, I didn't do my homework because I accidentally burned a hole in it," she mimicked.

And then the teacher would look at her and shake her head. Kagome would recognize the look in her teacher's eyes: the indecision of whether or not Kagome's grief had something to do with the hole in the homework and if she should excuse her because of it. Then again, it had already been five months after the death, surely she would have recovered by now? Perhaps she was just using her grief to her advantage?

Her classmates would snicker and whisper to each other. A few months ago, they would have sympathized with her. Now they would simply look at her and sigh in exasperation.

A few days ago, Kagome had overheard a group of girls gossiping about her in the bathroom. She had been sitting on the toilet seat, flinching at the cold steel creeping at her bottom and hoping that the floor was not wet. As she flushed the toilet and was just beginning to pull up her school uniform skirt, the bathroom door had opened and a group of chattering girls walked in.

"And then she started crying in front of the teacher! Crying! Like a little baby!" said a girl with a squeaky voice.

"How immature," remarked a girl with a nasal voice. "Let me guess, it was because of her parents right?"

"It's so stupid," commented Squeaky.

When Kagome had realized that she was the subject of the conversation, she sat back down on the toilet and pierced her lips, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to will their gossiping away.

The girls continued to talk.

"I was the homework collector today. Her homework had tear smudges on it! It was still wet too! It was sooo-oooo gross," whined Squeaky.

A low, croaky voice said, "You'd think she'd gotten over it already."

"My dog died, and I got over it in a week," said Nasal. "My parents even got me a new dog who was cuter than the other one."

Croaky seemed to snicker and rumbled, "I think Higurashi is just pretending to be sad. It's obvious that she just wants to get out of doing homework, and everything else in school for that matter," she added.

Squeaky and nasal agreed, loudly adding their own comments.

"It's so hard to believe that she's Miroku's little sister," said Croaky.

"Yeah," agreed Nasal. "He's so hot…"

All three girls paused in their conversation to sigh.

"He went right back to work only after a month. Kagome's still obsessing over it. She should be more like her brother," said Nasal.

"Yeah, she's so pathetic! She doesn't deserve to be Miroku's sister," declared Croaky.

Kagome took a deep breath. She decided that now was the moment to reveal her presence.

She had pulled up her skirt and walked out of the stall. The girl's conversation stopped short in shock as she shoved her way through them to the wash basins. As she washed her hands, Kagome had looked into the mirror, her gaze flicking over to the girls. Each of the girls had some sort of make up accessory in their hands, lipstick, eyeliner, and a mascara wand, and had frozen in each of their actions.

Wiping her hands on a paper towel, Kagome had turned to face them. She was silent, her face still and blank as a slate.

After a moment of silence, the girl with lipstick had snapped it shut and slipped it into her backpack.

"What do you want, crybaby?" taunted the girl.

Kagome's eyes flicked to her. She was the one with a croaky voice.

Silently, beneath her skin, Kagome felt her anger bubbling and boiling like the magma in a volcano. Right at that moment, she had wanted that girl to die, to die just like her parents did. She wanted Croaky-girl to die with no mourners, with no one to remember her with her croaky voice and her stupidity. In a flash, Kagome's mind had zipped through a series of images in which the girl died in horrible and painful situations. She fell into a trap of sharp sticks—fell down a well—fell into a snake pit. When her mind had exhausted itself of deaths involving falling, she imagined the girl getting shot at with a gun—stabbed in the heart—eaten by a snake—in a car crash… In each in every one of them, she felt happy, no, ecstatic that the girl died. Deep within that second of deathful thoughts, her subconscious decided that the car crash was the best.

"You," Kagome had said to her, icy and frightening, "don't deserve to be Miroku's fan."

With that, she had crumpled the paper towel and had thrown it at her face, her fist and foot following closely after. One of the girls ran out the bathroom, screaming about a fight and calling for help. About a few minutes later, a crowd of assorted students and adults were unsuccessfully attempting to separate Kagome from Croaky as she slammed the girl's head over and over again against the ground.

She had bloodied up Croaky quite a bit. The girl had been too surprised at Kagome's violence to put up a real fight back, although she had landed a few well-aimed kicks that left bruises in their wake on Kagome's body. Fortunately her friends had been in the same state of shock and did not think to outnumber Kagome to rescue their friend. Later, Kagome had thanked them ever so politely for that piece of good luck, otherwise known as their stupidity, in the vice-principal's office.

In general, Kagome was not a particularly violent girl. In fact, before the deaths, Kagome had been a very shy and polite girl; the kind people would describe as sweet mannered. That was probably the reason why Grandpa had been so upset when he was called to the school. She would have been expelled, but because of Kagome's situation and grief, they only sent her home for the day.

The worst part (or one of worst at least) about life was that nobody seemed to understand Kagome's grief. When anyone tried to sympathize with her, it seemed to Kagome that they were only sympathizing because it was expected of them, because they had to do it, not because they cared. In her eleven-year-old mind, nobody would ever be able to understand Kagome's grief for her parents and younger brother. They could not understand the deep hole in her heart, the flesh wound she would carry with her always, a wound that could never heal. Losing half of her family members so suddenly left a shock on Kagome, like a splash of permanent paint against the cloth of her life.

How could anyone ever think that Kagome could recover from this in the space of months? How could they think it possible? How could they think she would ever recover? They did not understand that Kagome could never heal that wound in her soul.

There were exceptions to this assumption, however. Grandpa, so energetic and loveable, became sullen and sad after their deaths. After the funeral, he would not stop lamenting at outliving his children and how it was just wrong for a father to bury his own daughter and son-in-law. It wasn't fair, he kept saying, it wasn't fair. He tried to reenact his old self when visitors came to the shrine, but he could not completely convince everyone. Everyone noticed something different, something dark, something sad. But he tried at least; Grandpa tried to get over it. And he was succeeding. Bit by bit, Grandpa was recovering from his grief and moving on from the tragedy, moving on with life.

Then there was Miroku, her older brother. Miroku had stayed after the funeral as long as he could before going back to work. He seemed to be the only person who really understood Kagome and Grandpa's pain, if only he was home when they needed him. Miroku made an effort to come home more often. Before, he visited them at most once every three month, twice if they were lucky. Now, Miroku somehow found time to drop by the shrine every other weekend or so. He told Grandpa and Kagome to call him on his cell phone whenever they wanted, regardless of whether or not he was working or what not.

Kagome grew to long for Miroku's visits. She longed for someone to talk to, someone who understood and would listen, really listen, someone to release her dark thoughts to. Grandpa was already disqualified as this kind of person. Grandpa was not in the same level of grief as Kagome was. Miroku, although he could not show it in his work, felt and shared the same emotions as Kagome. So therefore, this kind of person could not be just anyone, he could only be Miroku, he was the only one.

Right now, she wanted to talk about the fight, more specifically, the death images. It had been her first fight and it still stuck in Kagome's memory like a stitch in her side, sometimes like a battle scar on her arm. She could barely remember what had possessed her mind in that moment of violence. Her actions seemed strange and alien to everyone, including Kagome. In fact, she even confused herself when she thought back to why she had attacked the girl. But it was not so much the physical fight that stood out vividly in her mind but the emotions. She remembered the images her mind had conjured of the Croaky girl dying. She remembered how giddy she felt at those images. Those happy emotions frightened and bewildered her. Kagome could scarcely believe that she had thought such images, much less enjoyed them. Perhaps Miroku could explain. Miroku seemed to understand the psychological things like grief and recovery much better than Kagome did.

Tapping the pencil against the temple stairs, Kagome shivered as a cold gush of wind brushed against her arms. It was early March but the wind was still chilly and cold. She gathered her things and crept into the temple. With a sigh, she placed her things in a corner and wandered over to another distant corner of the temple. There was a special shrine in this part of the temple. Framed pictures of Papa, Mama, and Souta leaned on top of the shrine with a candle in front of each picture. There were a few sticks of incense still burning on the floor in front of the shrine.

Kagome knelt at the shrine and lit fresh sticks of incense. Then she merely sat, still and solemn. Kagome found that at the times when she felt the most depressed and miserable, sitting in the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the dead ones' shrine helped to calm her sobbing mind. Kagome could pretend that she had not lost them and that they were still here next to her. She could almost feel Mama's comforting arm around her shoulder, Papa softly patting her hand, and Souta looking curiously into her face and demanding to know what was wrong. She did not have to miss them because they were right there. Closing her eyes, Kagome dropped her hands into her lap and meditated.

Kagome was in such a state of peace that she barely heard the creaking of the door. She did not even react when she felt a warm presence kneeling next to her.

The warm presence put an arm around her shoulders kissed her head in greeting. Kagome opened an eye and smiled at her big brother. He smiled back. They both then closed their eyes, heads lowered respectfully.

"When did you get here, nii-chan?" Kagome asked.

"Just now," Miroku answered. "Grandpa thought you might be here so I went to look for you.

"Hm."

After a few more minutes, they simultaneously opened their eyes and stood up. Stretching they bowed to the shrine and walked back to the house.

Miroku looked at his sister and frowned. "Kagome," he said in a worried voice, "how did you get that bruise on your face?"

"What bruise?" asked Kagome, but she knew very well what bruise he was talking about. She flinched as Miroku touched the bruise gently, still frowning.

As they entered the house, Miroku gave Kagome a well meaningful look. Kagome sighed.

"I got into a fight," Kagome said, shrugging.

Miroku shut the door and turned around to face her, his eyebrows raised, mouth hung slack in shock.

"You what?" he stated, stupefied.

"Didn't Grandpa tell you?" asked Kagome.

Miroku shook his head as though he could hardly believe it. He hung his jacket on the coat hook and they walked into the living room. Lying onto a couch, Miroku sighed and rubbed his eyes, head leaning against the cushioned armrest.

"Finally, I get to rest," Miroku said. "I've had so much work to do these past days I could barely get any sleep."

Kagome knew Miroku would not let the subject wander away for long. She sat down on the part of the couch unoccupied by Miroku and waited for him to start again.

Eyes closed, Miroku said, "Talk to me Kagome-chan."

Kagome wondered what to talk about. There was so much she wanted to pour out into Miroku's attentive ears. What to start with?

After a moment to ponder, Kagome said, "I hate it here."

Miroku opened an eyelid. "Really?" he inquired. "Does your fight have something to do with it?" He raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to answer his question.

"The people at my school are stupid," Kagome said, defending herself. "They laugh at me when I get sad about… the… you know…" Kagome faltered slightly and avoided saying 'death.'

"Go on," said Miroku gently.

"Anyway, I heard these girls talking about me in the bathroom. They said all these mean things about me. They laughed at me, they laughed at when I cried. They said I was stupid and immature. They even said I didn't deserve to be your sister!" To Kagome's surprise and dismay, tears began to slip from her eyes. She angrily wiped them away.

"It made me so angry! Nothing's ever happened to them before! They have no right to tease me about my grief! They don't understand. What makes them so smart? It's not fair, Nii-chan. Then that girl called me a crybaby! I couldn't help it. She deserved to be punched and kicked. She deserved to lose blood! She just had it coming. It's just not fair! They're the ones who should have died instead of…of…" A small sob broke out of Kagome's throat and she began to tremble.

Warm arms encircled her. Kagome closed her eyes, cheek pressing into Miroku's chest. Miroku said nothing, words were not needed at the moment. He gently pulled her into his lap onto the couch, tucking her head under his chin. Kagome, at age eleven, still had not hit her growth spurt and she could fit easily into his lap. She curled up against him and sobbed against his front.

Miroku rubbed her back soothingly. "I know, I know how it is," he said. "People say things about me as well," Miroku told her. "They call me weak and sentimental, a fool… Sometimes, they call me those things in public, or they display it the cover of popular magazines. I wish I could punch and kick them. One time I almost lashed out a reporter but my manager stopped me before I could. Afterward I was glad they stopped me before I became violent. You know why?"

Kagome shook her head, face buried in Miroku's shirt.

"Because I realized that reporter didn't understand my grief and it wasn't her fault. You know, she's probably never experienced anything tragic. Only someone who's gone through as much as we have would understand. But just because nothing's happened to her doesn't mean she deserves it to happen. People misunderstand; people make mistakes. People aren't supposed to experience grief, you and I just happen to be the unlucky ones."

"Why do we have to be unlucky?" Kagome demanded angrily. "We didn't do anything!"

"True, but did she do anything?"

The she Miroku meant was the reporter, but Kagome's thoughts snapped to the girl she had beaten up. Other than that day in the bathroom, the girl had never really done anything to Kagome before. As far as Kagome knew, the girl was probably just like the girl Kagome used to be before the deaths.

"Miroku?" Kagome whispered softly.

"Hmm?"

There was a short pause.

"That reporter, those people…" Kagome drifted off. She feared the next question she was about to ask.

"Nii-chan…have you ever wanted to kill them?" she asked softly. "Have you ever wanted them to just die?"

"Why do you ask that?"

Kagome clutched Miroku's shirtfront and shivered.

"I remember right before I punched the girl," Kagome said, voice shaking from the tears, "I thought of her dying in all these different ways. They weren't all the same but she died in every single one of them. I really wanted them to happen. I wanted all of those ways of killing to happen to her…see how she likes it. If none of them happened to her, I thought that at least I could get some blood out of her. So I hit her."

Kagome sunk deeper into Miroku's lap. "Those thoughts…they scare me. I've felt angry at people before, but I never wanted them to die. After the fight, whenever I saw people stare and look at me, I pictured them dying in a car crash.

"What's wrong with me Miroku?" Kagome shrieked. Her voice cracked and her eyes flooded again with tears.

Miroku once again rocked her gently in his lap as Kagome tried to stop her tears.

"Kagome, where were your friends in all of this?" asked Miroku. "Why didn't they talk to you?"

Kagome, aside from her sobbing, was silent to this question.

Miroku sighed. "Kagome…"

Kagome twitched.

"I don't know. I used to have friends but I forget who they were. But I don't need any friends anymore. Miroku I hate it here. I hate it! Hate it! Nobody listens to me, nobody understands, not like you do. I can't even talk to Grandpa anymore…

"I wish I was living with you instead," Kagome mumbled into his shirt.

Those pivotal words rang and echoed in Miroku's head.

"I don't think you really mean that," he mumbled back, somewhat frantically.

Unfortunately, her previous statement had also echoed in Kagome's head.

"Yeah…" she breathed. It was perfect! Suddenly, Kagome saw a solution floating in front of her nose, sitting in front of her nose actually.

"Kagome," Miroku warned, "Don't—"

Too late.

Grabbing two fistfuls of Miroku's shirt, Kagome looked up at him desperately. "Nii-chan I could live with you!" Kagome exclaimed.

Miroku flinched at her glowing, tear-streaked face. "As much as I'd enjoy that, it's not a very good idea. You know I'm working all the time. I'm either on set or in the studio or sleeping. I won't have much time to be with you…"

"That's okay. I've always wanted to see where you work!"

"And you still have school…"

"You can get a tutor for me," Kagome answered desperately. Her eyes still looked at him, pleadingly, anxiously, dreadfully, as though she were a child on the streets presented with a roast beast on a golden platter, a meal that had the chance of being snatched away.

Miroku sighed and looked away. Kagome did not lie. When she said she wanted to live with him, she really meant it in a down to earth, serious way. There was just no getting around his sister when she became like this.

Kagome really did not know what she was saying. His lifestyle was not fit for a young girl of eleven. Miroku had been blessed all these years that his family paid very little attention to the paparazzi, else they would know that some of the rumors spread about him had some truth to them. Kagome was still very innocent. What would she think when she realized her big brother was not as clean as she thought?

But still, Kagome seemed so miserable here. For Gods sake, he heard what she said.

"Have you ever wanted them to die?"

Kagome was already stuck fast in depression. It did not seem healthy for Kagome to stay here. Saying no would be like abandoning a puppy in the gutter. Glancing back at her pleading eyes, Miroku sighed again. But still, he could not be rash.

"Are you serious about it?" he asked. He knew it was useless to ask but he did anyway.

"Yes!"

"You really want leave Grandpa all alone to live with me?"

Kagome paused. She had not thought of Grandpa living in solitude. She looked down, ashamed of her selfishness.

"Kagome, why didn't you talk to Grandpa about it instead of waiting for me?" Miroku asked.

Kagome's gazed stayed down, sullen.

"Well?"

"I don't know why…" Kagome said softly. "Grandpa is different. He still smiles all the time. Grandpa is…" she hesitated. "Grandpa is…" She stopped again. Taking breath, Kagome blurted out the words. "Grandpa is happy. He doesn't see people dying when they ask him about the…you know… he sees… he sees…" How could she say this? Looking up at her brother, Kagome said, "He sees life."

Miroku smiled sadly at Kagome's thoughtful and simple words. It was heart-wrenching, the way she gazed upon him with untainted trust and love, the way her voice shined with tears, yet she could still say something so pure and simple, such that only a child could see.

"I'm jealous that Grandpa is so happy," Kagome admitted. "I want to be happy too, but I can't stop being sad. But I still don't want Grandpa to be sad either. Better one of us than both us sad," she reflected pensively. "Grandpa wouldn't understand either. Only sad people understand each other."

Miroku looked her. "Do you think I'm very sad?" he asked.

"Yes," Kagome answered simply.

"Why?" Miroku asked.

Kagome buried her head once again in Miroku's shirt. "I've seen you on TV and in the papers. You're always smiling, but it's not your happy smile, it's your fake smile that you use when you're acting. You always act like yourself when you're happy, but you don't in the papers."

Miroku sighed. Kagome, young as she was, always seemed to be right.

"Please Miroku?" Kagome asked, eyes peeking up from his shirt. "I don't know if I can live here anymore. Can't I try living with you?"

"We'll see," Miroku said hesitantly. Now was a good time to change the subject. He looked around the living room for a diversion and found the TV remote control.

"Let's pretend we're happy," he suggested and turned on the TV. There was a newscast showing footage of Miroku at a movie premiere in Beijing, an arm slung lazily around the slender waist of his Chinese co-star. The camera focused on his arm and panned down lower to where his hand was cupped around the actress's…

Miroku quickly changed the channel before the camera revealed where that hand was. Instantly it changed to MTV, showing clips from his latest music video. There was Miroku, lip-singing with two extremely shapely dancers moving somewhat erotically around his body. Miroku quickly changed the channel yet again before a more erotic clip was aired.

When the next switch proved to yet again involve Miroku in some way, he gave up and turned the TV off. A soft snore from his lap brought his attention to his sister. Kagome had curled up in his lap, snuggled against his chest. The crying had easily lowed her to sleep. She breathed steadily, breath blowing against his shirt. She did not seem capable of moving.

With a shrug, Miroku adjusted his arms around Kagome in a more comfortable position, tucked a pillow behind his head, and slept.

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At some point, Miroku woke up. He gently rearranged the still sleeping Kagome off his lap onto the couch. He found Grandpa sipping tea in the kitchen. After the initial cheerful greetings, Miroku made the proposition of Kagome coming to live with him. To his surprise, instead of rejoicing at a solution for Kagome's depression, Grandpa was none too enthusiastic.

"She's still a child, they always come up with strange ideas like that," Grandpa said to Miroku.

"But she's miserable here! At school, no one listen to her, she's alone. I don't think she's in a very stable mentality either. She told me that she's starting to wish that other people would die. Does that sound like she's okay to you?" Miroku demanded.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe a therapist is the solution?" Grandpa said. "A therapist would listen to her and help her with her problems. That's what they're trained to do."

"She's depressed. And she's still a child. She needs someone she knows to be with her, someone whom she feels understands her. Someone she trusts. Do you think Kagome will trust a stranger with her problems?" Miroku argued.

"Be realistic Miroku. Do you really think you can take care of a growing girl? As much as she loves you, she needs a parent. She hasn't even hit puberty yet but she's almost there, what are you going to do when that happens? If she's dragged out from school, where is she going to get sex education? Who's going to explain what's going on when she gets her period? You?"

"You're getting beside the point, Grandpa."

"I'm think about the future, that's what I'm doing."

Miroku forced himself to calm down. He hardly raised his voice and was not used to doing so. "Do you think I won't take care of her? She's my sister, I'd never neglect her," Miroku argued.

"Are you capable of being a responsible guardian? Are you willing to shoulder the responsibilities of caring for a child?"

"Of course."

"Wrong! You're a teenager and a pop star at that! Really Miroku, at seventeen, you yourself are still in the middle of puberty! How can you handle another adolescent? You have enough going on in your life without worrying about a child."

"Grandpa, I'll be eighteen in a few—"

"And I know what kind of lifestyle you lead," Grandpa continued. "Partying, dancing, drinking…I've read the news. I know not everything in the media is true, but those pictures with you and some girl had to come from somewhere. Not only that, but you're with a different girl all the time. And if an inkling of what people say you do with those girls is true then I most definitely don't want Kagome to be in your charge!"

"Grandpa…" Miroku gritted his teeth. "I do not go out partying every night."

"That's not how it appears to be."

Grandpa reached toward the pile of newspapers on the table and slapped down a headliner in front of them.

"Here," Grandpa pointed to a label underneath a picture of a dancing Miroku, hand caressing her bottom. "And here." Here was a laughing Miroku, dancing with several scantily clad girls.

"What kind of example are you setting for you sister? Do you want her to act like this?" Grandpa indicated to another picture.

Miroku did not even bother to look at it. "Don't you care about Kagome? Aren't you worried about her?" Miroku snapped at Grandpa.

"Of course I care! You think just because I don't want her to live with you I don't care?" Grandpa yelled back.

"Why not? Why can't she? She wants to. It's obvious that she can't survive here!"

"Can't survive?"

Grandpa's fist slammed down on the table between them. He was breathing heavily, head bent down in exhaustion, fist was shaking.

"I've always thought that my children were the ones who would take care of me when I am no longer able myself," Grandpa said, voice soft and hoarse. "But now, after they died, I find myself trying to care for another daughter, all over again. What do you think I'm so supposed to do when I see her struggling and failing to adjust to the aftermath? Is she struggling because I did something wrong? Am I not trying hard enough to help her? Have I failed as her grandfather?"

"I didn't mean to imply that you're a bad grandfather," Miroku said, feeling the prick of shame.

"But am I?" His voice was calm and strained. "Obviously my influence hasn't helped her move past the deaths." Grandpa sighed and rubbed his forehead against his palm.

"Then you come to me and offer to take Kagome away… Miroku, what did you expect? Did you really think I'd embrace this notion whole-heartedly? Do you realize the amount of responsibility and duty that comes with being a legal guardian? You're barely even an adult, how can I trust your word? And what if it doesn't work? What if something happens? Will you just change her guardianship at trouble?

"You do know that if something happens to Kagome, you will be fully responsible for her?" Grandpa demanded, giving Miroku a sharp look.

"I am fully prepared to take that responsibility," Miroku responded solemnly.

Grandpa looked intensely at Miroku and shrugged. Suddenly, the tense atmosphere was gone.

"I don't know what to do. I just don't," Grandpa said, shaking his head. "Who knows? Maybe it is a good idea for Kagome to live with you. Maybe all she needs a change of scenery and some time away from the place her loved ones used to live in."

Miroku kept his gaze intently on Grandpa's face.

"Does this mean you'll consider it?" he asked.

Grandpa sighed and eased himself up from the table.

"Perhaps," he answered. As he passed Miroku on his way out of the kitchen, he clapped his grandson affectionately on the shoulder.

"It really is good to have you back, Miroku," Grandpa said grumpily. "There's some ramen on the counter. Make yourself some dinner."

Miroku agreed and bid Grandpa good night.

.

In the end, after much thought and worry, Grandpa agreed to a trial run. During the first week of Kagome's summer vacation, Miroku took Kagome with him to Hong Kong. He took her to see the city's islands and the regular tourist sites. They trekked up to the peak of Mount Victoria and worked their way through the shopping malls of Hong Kong. Miroku pointed out his fellow celebrities walking down the street but did not introduce them, as Kagome knew no Cantonese.

Grandpa did not think it was a very good trial run at all. It was more like a vacation than anything, he said. But, perhaps observing the way Kagome laughed and smiled more often and that sounds of sobbing came less often from her room, he decided to reconsider.

Miroku's birthday came and went on a bright June day. Grandpa decided to surprise his grandchildren and gave his consent and blessing to make Miroku one of Kagome's legal guardians. There was a round of shock and then a round of happiness, followed by a bout of spontaneous hugging. Grandpa then surprised them again by taking them himself to the city office for the official change.

The following day, Grandpa sat down again with his grandchildren and worked out the fine details. A few thousand details later, Miroku stood up and went out to call an Institution for a tutor for Kagome.

This institute was a prestigious school for gifted and bright minds. The students at this school moved at such a fast pace that many graduated at the age of sixteen, maybe even fifteen. Students usually took a year from school after graduation, working, traveling… A student from this school would make the perfect tutor for Kagome. The school had agreed to draw up a list of suitable students eligible for the job.

The student they ended up hiring was Sango Eiri. She was eighteen years old. She had graduated from high school at the age of fifteen and completed three years of college. From what Miroku had gathered from a phone conversation, Sango had grown bored of college life and had expressed a desire to the school of traveling and seeing more of Asia while at the same time making a living. She did not have to worry about college graduation as she had already earned enough credits to graduate from college. Thus, she was on the list of possible candidates of being Kagome's tutor.

It was an easy decision really. While the other candidates possessed the mandatory qualities, Kagome and Miroku discovered that Sango had other special and unique qualities that guaranteed her the job on the day of the job interview.

Sitting around a small table at the institute café, they had been engaging in a chatty but rather boring conversation about Sango's tutoring experience when a sudden squeal echoed off the café walls. The next second, something with green hair and a rather revealing short front had latched herself onto Miroku's arm from behind and had fallen into a bout of giggles.

"I'm, like, so stupid! I thought I recognized you, Miro-chan!" the giggling thing said.

Miroku's mouth was slightly gaping open in surprise and pain. Accustomed as he was to his fans' antics (for some reason, the female fans attached a "-chan" to his name rather than "-kun," damned if he knew why. Was it just more cutesy?), Miroku was more used to being accosted from behind some sort of barrier, preferably a pair of security guards. "Um…" he started.

"Did you get my letter? And, like, my emails? I send lots and, like, lots of those! I'm the one, like, who signs as 'Green harlot,'" the giggling mass of green squeaked.

"Ah, well I don't really know, sorry," Miroku said, managing a weak (but still charming) smile. "I'll have to ask my secretary."

"Oh," Green hair said, pouting cutely. Then she noticed Kagome sitting next to Miroku, watching her with a look of pitying disgust.

"Ooh! Is this your little sister? She's so, like, cute!" Green hair squealed.

To Kagome's horror, the green haired fan pounced on Kagome, lifted her out of the seat, and cuddled her. Cuddled. Kagome's eyes threatened to bulge out of their eye sockets as Green hair rubbed her cheek against her forehead and squeezed, hard. At the point when Kagome was almost sure she would die of suffocation, Green hair finally placed her back on the ground, away from the failed safety of her chair. And then she pinched both of Kagome's cheeks, squealing more about cuteness (of which Kagome now wanted no part of).

Kagome was about to pull away and exercise her sharp teeth upon the girl fingers when she heard Sango snap, "All right, that's enough!"

And then Green hair's clammy fingers were suddenly slapped off her cheeks and Kagome was suddenly thrust to the side and held behind Sango's back with a protective arm.

"I don't know what right you think you have," Sango had begun, "to assault the Higurashi's like this!"

"Assault?" repeated Green hair dumbly.

"Yes! Assault! It's not a big word! Learn it!"

Kagome peeked around Sango's back and gazed up as a furious Sango began to poke at suddenly frightened Green hair's chest. She took a step backwards and went back to her chair, trying to rub feeling back into her cheeks. She repositioned her chair so that her chair was right next to Miroku's and joined in his rapt attention of the conversation at hand.

"I think Higurashi-san made it perfectly clear that he did not know you. Did you think his little sister would appreciate your abuse? Yes, you were abusing her. In fact, if he wanted to, Higurashi-san could press charges for physical harassment. Hugging and touching, without the victim's consent," she barked, jabbing her finger at Green hair's face with every accusation. Green hair began to tremble. "It could even be considered sexual harassment! And look around, see all these witnesses? See them? And you are not only causing physical pain to Kagome-san but annoyance as well. You're lucky the Higurashis are polite enough not to—"

Judging from the way Sango's back suddenly stiffened, she had just become aware her ascending vocal volume and the fact that the Higurashi's (and everyone else in the café) were listening with close scrutiny. Sango balled her fists, sagged a bit, and then rose up again with renewed energy.

"Furthermore, you quite rudely interrupted a private conversation. And it's not just any private conversation. It's my job interview. Now that you're here I've probably screwed it over and I want this job and not because Higurashi-san is famous I might add! I don't even use the word screw in a sentence, damnnit! Did I mention that I really want and need this job? Do you know how much I've stressed over this interview? Huh? Of course you don't! You just rush into things. You can't even dye your hair right! It's green and fading and judging by the faint color, it wasn't even a good blue dye to begin with! It was blue to begin with wasn't it? Oh, what now?" Sango snapped irritably.

The Fading-green-that-was-originally-blue-according-to-Sango haired fan's lips puckered in squeaking sobs and tears slid out of her wretchedly wide, sad eyes.

"Oh, crying now, are we?" Sango noted testily. "Well, calm down then, you don't need to be this way just because I'm scolding you. No? Still crying? What's the matter? Do you want a hug?" Sango hissed, arms opening, advancing menacingly closer.

The girl let out an anguished and frightened cry and ran away, hands covering her tear-streaked little face.

Kagome took the opportunity to look around. She caught several girls who had frozen in the act of walking towards their table. She noted with pleasure that they abruptly sat back down again as Sango took a deep breath.

Sango turned to face the Higurashi's, face flushed with embarrassment. Biting her lip, she sat back down onto her chair and took another deep breath, wringing her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry about that. I was going to tell you about this but… I'm usually very controlled however…sometimes my temper just gets out of hand," Sango said, flinching sheepishly. "I suppose I won't be seeing you again," she sighed dejectedly. "I'll pay for the drinks."

Kagome and Miroku turned to look at each other. They had both just been newly made aware of the special qualities that separated Sango from the rest of the candidates and marked her as The One (damned if they knew what these qualities were. They were there and that was enough). Their eyes narrowed and simultaneously beamed pointed looks of Psychic Sibling Communication to each other. (Kagome's look said, if you don't hire her in the next few seconds, I'm going to vocally test my lung capacity in the loudest way possible right here and now. Miroku replied, I am wounded, wounded, that you think you have to remind me in such a way. Kagome replied back, you'd be surprised.) They gave the tiniest, most inconspicuous of nods and turned to Sango.

"On the contrary, Eiri-san," Miroku said, smiling. "This interview is not over yet."

He leisurely stretched out his arms, amusedly noting Sango's nervous face and pointedly ignoring Kagome's glare and threatening deep breaths.

"You mentioned to that girl that you wanted and needed this job," Miroku casually noted. "Could you tell us why?"

Sango blinked her eyes, as if she were expecting a question much worse. She still looked anxious as she replied.

"To be honest, I need a change of scenery. I want to get out of Japan and explore the rest of Asia. And, frankly, I can't find any jobs here. My interviewers at business companies were skeptical of my abilities and my college graduation. They all told me to come back when I turned twenty-one..." Sango seethed at the memory. "So the circumstances of this job are perfect. I'll be getting out of the country and making a suitable living simultaneously. Assuming I'm hired of course," Sango added nervously.

She cringed to herself as Miroku nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose with the… display I made just now I don't seem like a worthy candidate," Sango said forlornly.

Miroku face contorted into an array of shocked emotions.

"Display?" he said incredulously. "Eiri Sango-san, why do you think defending my little sister would give me the slightest doubt of your worthiness as her tutor? In fact, it's done just the opposite!"

And, after a pointed look to Kagome, Miroku held out a hand to Sango.

"You're hired," Miroku proclaimed, beaming at a wondrous, gapping Sango. "Oh, and I'm paying for the drinks," he added as an afterthought.

.

.

TBC

.

And now for something completely different! A long author's and cultural note combined:

While Miroku, Kagome, and Sango are from Japan, the majority of this fic will take place in Hong Kong, therefore there will be some Cantonese language every now and then (maybe even Mandarin if I decide for them to venture into Mainland China). I'll try to keep it to a minimum and I'll explain some things here. And before you ask, yes, I am Chinese myself and both of my parents were born and grew up in Hong Kong. I've been to Hong Kong five times. I guess I'm a little more than half fluent in Cantonese, I mean I can understand almost all Cantonese that's spoken around me but my accent is laughable.

First, the Chinese honorifics (for lack of a better word). Like in Japanese, Chinese people attach little words to the end of a name to indicate some kind of relationship.

You would address someone older than you, but old enough to be a sibling, as an elder brother/sister ("goh" or "jeh," respectively). It would be the same thing for a younger person ("dai" or "mou"). So for example, you would address a friend's sibling (or your sibling's friend) who is older than you as "XXX-goh" or "XXX-jeh"

This is the same principle for someone old enough to be your parent. You would address that person as uncle or aunt ("bak" or "yee"). You would address an elderly as a grandparent ("gong" or "pau").

Sometimes, you repeat the honorific twice. So instead of "XXX-goh" for example, it would be "XXX-goh goh." The repeated honorific version would be something that kids or close relations would say to each other. It's merely a more cutesy and affectionate way to address someone.

And in case you're still confused, here's a small dictionary:

Goh- elder brother

Dai- younger brother

Bak- uncle

Gong- grandpa

Jeh- elder sister

Mou- younger sister

Yee- aunt

Pau- grandma

There are actually many ways to address people (I haven't said how to address classmates for one), but I'm going to try to just stick with these basics.

A final note: unlike Japanese (and Mandarin as well), there is no official system of transcribing Cantonese words into the alphabet (if there is one I'd be glad to know). Nope, nothing handy like that. So any Cantonese word I write out is what I feel is the best way to transcribe it. It's only guessing people. So "nay ho" (how are you) could just as easily be written as "nai hoe."

Really, Chinese isn't that confusing! It isn't! --'

But if you are, in fact, still confused…sorry. I'll try to explain the honorifics more clearly to you if you are.