Disclaimer: Inuyasha doesn't belong to me, neither does Phantom of the Opera.

I'm so sorry about the wait darlings! Enjoy!

Kagome felt as though she was being pulled along by invisible puppet strings. The only thing that kept her from walking on air was the gloved hand entwined with hers.

At long last, it was happening. For years, he'd sang to her in her sleep, featured first and foremost in her dreams. Yet she'd never seen his face, never known his name.

All around them, brass arms held flaming torches to light their way. The gently swaying light illuminated her mysterious guide's golden eye. They came to a winding staircase leading them in to the depth of the opera house. It was world she'd never imagined existed, yet always right beneath her feet.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, vaguely wondering to herself just how far down they'd come. The phantom gently touched her cheek, guiding her gaze back to him.

"Come my Kagome, don't look back."

A boat awaited them in a river at the bottom of the stairs. The boat itself was polished mahogany, lined with deep red cushions. Dimly, Kagome registered that they were likely in the sewers, but how could that be? A sewer would be dark, damp and so smelly it would make your head spin. This was otherworldly. Beautifully carved statues held up the ceiling above them. Torches and candelabras bathed the chamber in warmth and light.

Smoothly making their way through the gently winding tunnel, Kagome didn't dare blink and risk missing a single moment of this place.

"Sing for me," her guide commanded softly. An iron gate lifted, revealing a cove of candles, mirrors partially obscured by heavy velvet curtains and a beautiful, intricately decorated organ. Mist danced on the surface of the water. A heady fragrance of incense filled her nose.

Her voice reverberated off the walls in a way that sent a tingle down her spine. She kept singing, higher and higher towards a climax. More than anything in the world, she wanted to please him. They stopped. For a moment, he closed his eyes and listened to the final echoes of Kagome's last and highest note bouncing off the rough stone walls.

"Welcome," he said, "to my domain. Music is…my passion. My life. But since the moment I first heard you sing, I've realized that without you, I am incomplete."

Kagome inhaled sharply. He'd become like a second shadow to her. The idea of life without him…it was too much to bear. Extending his hand to her, he helped her out of the boat and onto the land. The stone was sharp and cold against her stockinged feet, but she felt no fear of falling.

All around her, every form of art was honored in some form. Statues and smaller figurines, all clearly carved by a masterful hand. Piled neatly on a smooth wooden table lay the scores of symphonies, arias, even full operas, each carefully concealed in a black leather case with the title embossed in gold. To her right, she saw a perfect recreation of her shining moment on stage just hours earlier. Paintings of ink and watercolour adorned the walls. Some were more minimal than the others, yet Kagome recognized herself in every one of them.

"You belong with me," he crooned to her, leading her up the steps to the pinnacle of his realm. "Light blinds you. In darkness, every sensation is heightened. Every sound resonates in your soul. Kagome, close your eyes."

She did. He moved silently, positioning himself behind her. When he sang, his lips brushed against the silky skin of her neck, making her pulse quicken. One hand rested on her stomach, pressing her flush against him. The other stroked tenderly down her thigh.

"Give into it Kagome," he urged, "Touch me, trust me. Let yourself feel everything. Every fantasy, every desire."

Kagome let out a sigh of pleasure, overwhelmed by their closeness. She could feel his strength, but his touch was gentle. She reached out to brush her fingers against his cheek. His skin was warm, roughened slightly by the beginnings of evening stubble. He swallowed audibly when her hand toyed with his silver hair and brushed accidentally against his neck. Emboldened, she turned around so they were face to face.

Most of the men she'd come across in her life believed very strongly that to be a man, meant to be strong and silent. To never let on when they were experiencing emotion for fear of appearing weak. When she looked at him fully for the first time, what she saw was unguarded emotion.

His very soul was bare for her to see. His breathing was shallow, and his intense gaze never left hers. Could it be that he felt the same nervousness and exhilaration that she did? Everything in this cave, everything she could lay her eyes and hands on, all created by him. Created by him…for her?

She suddenly felt very dizzy. The heavily perfumed air made spots flash before her eyes and her legs gave out from under her. On the brink of unconsciousness, Kagome felt him catch her before she hit the ground. He carried her to a bed in the shape of a peacock, surrounded by gossamer curtains. The last thing Kagome felt before she drifted off to sleep was the whisper of his hand against her face.

Sango pushed open the door to Kagome's chamber. She hadn't been worried at first, Kagome rarely attended the after-show gatherings. Alright, parties, but gathering sounded more well-behaved. Then the new patron, the handsome young man named Hojo had come searching for Kagome. Most of the cast and crew had politely told him they didn't have any idea and gone right back to their drinking. But Sango had sensed that something was wrong and asked why he was looking for her. He'd explained that they'd had plans to go for supper and get reacquainted after years of separation. He'd recognized her after all and he knew the same thing Sango did; Kagome was not the type to stand someone up. Especially not a beloved childhood friend.

Something was very wrong.

Kagome's room was in complete darkness. This was very strange, there was always at least one torch or candle lit even at night. The only light came through the window from the full moon outside. The moon's beams brightened, glinting off the full-length mirror. Sango squinted. The mirror didn't look right.

Carefully weaving through the sea of flower bouquets, Sango reached to touch the mirror. There was a gap between the glass and the frame. She ran her fingers over the glass edge and felt it quiver under her touch. An experimental push told her the mirror was a sliding door. But a sliding door to where?

She peered inside, but there wasn't a glimmer of light to see by. A musty scent reached her noise and she heard the faint sounds of scurrying rats and dripping water. She shuddered. Sango didn't like to admit it, but she really hated rats,

Still, if that was where her friend had gone…she felt fingers close around her wrist and she let out a shriek of surprise.

"Lady Kikyo!" Sango cried. The ballet mistress's face was stern. She firmly slid the mirror back into place and led Sango from the room. From Kagome's dressing room back to the party, Kikyo didn't utter single word, despite Sango's questions and protests.

Inside, Onigumo was "entertaining" them with tales of the opera ghost, growling and ogling the women closest to him.

"Like yellow parchment is his skin! A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew!" He leered at a ballerina named Ayame who wrinkled her nose in disgust. He dramatically dropped his cloak from his shoulders and looked around, reveling in the baited breath of his audience.

"You must be always on your guard." He drew a length of rope, tied like a noose. "For if you don't, he will catch you with his magical lasso" He wrapped the rope around Ayame's neck and growled mockingly at her. Kikyo strode forward, snatching the rope from Onigumo's hands. Sango followed close behind, taking putting a comforting arm around Ayame's shoulders.

Onigumo was distasteful fellow, to put it lightly. He was known for his numerous peepholes throughout the opera house, solely to see the ballerinas and female vocalists at their most vulnerable. They were told to ignore him. Sango quickly found out why; Onigumo particularly loved feisty women. Meaning, he liked the challenge of taming them.

Kikyo drew herself up to her full height, warm cinnamon eyes meeting muddy brown. No one knew why, but Kikyo was the only woman Onigumo didn't dare trifle with.

"Those who speak of what they know, find too late that silence is wise." Kikyo murmured. The cast and crew had gone so silent, her words rang as strongly as if she'd shouted them. A few people gasped in surprise when Kikyo backhanded Onigumo in the face without a single change in her calm demeanour.

"Hold your tongue Onigumo," she purred dangerously, "And keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

TBC

A/N: This one is tough to write, but it's a fun challenge. If I've done my job right, you should have been going "Hojo? Who's Hojo?" ^-^ Thanks for reading!