AN: I revised this fic. Again. Rediscovered my notes and realized I went way, way off target. Oh well. There will still be Bleach-like elements sprinkled throughout this story. And Sherlock Souta, of course.
The rating also got bumped up to M.
Teehee.
Prologue: The Luck of the Successor
Some people had all the luck.
And Kagome was not one of them.
She stared at the nondescript manila envelope, so unremarkable and innocent, that spelled her doom.
"Lucky you."
Kagome glared at the older woman, a black traveling cloak already draped over her shoulders. "Rub it in, why don't you?"
Her magenta eyes twinkled as they traveled from the envelope in Kagome's hands to the bow strapped to her back. "That's a Higurashi for you. Your reputation certainly preceded you today."
"Sango!" Kagome said in a high-pitched cry, not caring that she was whining like a child. "I'm not ready for this. I haven't even finished my training. And it's in a city. A city!"
"Poor you," Sango said, not sounding like she sympathized at all. "Even on a slow day you'll have all the entertainment at your fingertips. Some of us are stuck in farmlands, you know."
"It's a kill zone!" Kagome threw her hands in the air. "I mean, did you hear about the last person stationed there?"
"Your predecessor was a veteran, and stayed even after the vacate notice. It's an occupational hazard." She casually waved Kagome away and walked past her. "Chin up, Higurashi. Your brother's having the time of his life in the junior division."
Kagome froze and whirled around. "What did he do this time?"
Sango simply pointed to the ceiling at she continued down the hall. Almost on cue, the lights dimmed for a moment, flickered back on, and an alarm bell rang in the distance.
Souta wasn't going to be anywhere near the kitchen anytime soon. How he managed to secretly smuggle, in bulk, and then combine all that hydrogen peroxide and sodium iodide until it was way too late to intervene, no one would ever know. Especially Souta, considering he had somehow managed to knock himself out in the process and conveniently lost all memory of his most recent mischief.
But that was for her family to worry about.
Kagome sighed as she shifted her weight on one foot and narrowed her eyes, her focus trained on the city folk entering bars and nightclubs under neon signs. She wasn't particularly fond of Tokyo night life. It was the stench of alcohol that lingered until dawn, and the way they blasted the same, inane rhythmic noise. Beyond the dull lights and the ruckus of the parading mob, cities were nothing but filthy cesspools, people living in ever-shrinking boxes, stacked on top of one another like sleep-deprived ants.
But a job was a job.
Adjusting her metal mask, she leapt off her perch atop the highrise building and descended into the darkness of the night.
Her patrol was supposed to last the entire night. Less than an hour in, and she was somehow pinned to the wall in a private karaoke room by a very irritated silver-haired man.
His dog ears twitched.
What the f&%# ?
AN: Next chapter—Privacy, Possession, and other such things