Code Name: Agent Miko


The smoke that left his lips could almost be called peaceful, and that was the only thing that was especially with all the bodies falling around him. He could respect the beautiful figure that flew through the skies and slaughtered his enemies. He never had to repeat himself and she was killer to look at. He was a red-blooded male, and he could understand why she dressed the way she did. Hearing the tap of her foot as she landed on the ground next to him, he cocked a smirk.

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anonymous asked:

Some more Levi/Kagome please?

Of course!


  • Levi has high expectations for Kagome physically, mentally, and emotionally.
  • Kagome can’t do a Levi impersonation very well.
    • Levi once appeared behind her and the others tried to make her cut it out.
  • Kagome: “…if you want kids Levi-taichou, you need to have them soon before you hit your 40s.”
    • That conversation was anything but pleasant since Levi tried to scare her off by saying she can bare his.
    • Since then she has stopped talking about his age.
  • Levi has trained Kagome at night on a one-on-one when she asks for help.
    • He doesn’t like to admit it, but he does it to spend time with her.

Originally posted by blurrivaille

The Miko Fairy || natsudragnell1800


The wind blew around her in a gust, fluttering her black hair around her, providing releif for the hot day. She was glad she was wearing just her green shorts and white tank top, still the giant yellow backpack on her back didn’t help her on the sweating front. If she hadn’t been trying to save money she would have taken in the train instead of trying to walk to Magnolia; at least she liked sleeping under the stars.

From the trees bandits leaped out suddenly in an ambush, Kagome sighed with a frown as they laughed and demanded her money while leering at her body. She reached back for her bow resigned, she really didn’t want to fight today.

Only Human

A/N: The Inu no Taisho, for once, doesn’t play the knight in shining armor.

The Inukimi looked at the sword in her fisted hand as if she’d never seen it before, which was uncharacteristically silly of her. She knew the Tetsusaiga, transformed or not.

A soft night breeze played with her hair and emotions, bringing his scent to her nose. The whole situation had a comical touch to it, in her opinion. The hero, knowing the lady is proud, gives her his weapon instead of coming to her rescue, she mused. 

After seemingly endless days traveling back from the East without any rest, she had changed into her human form upon entering her domain. She had been, for lack of a better word, tired, and keeping her true form demanded too much energy.

She’d thought she was safe. She’d thought that maybe, who knew, he would be there, taking care of things in her absence—as an old friend, if nothing else.

The Inukimi had been careless, her people had been asleep, and the young dragon had been waiting.

In the darkness of the night, with only the cold, distant stars as testimonies, Setsumi felt a drop of sweat fall down her temple. She was scared, but not the Inukimi—no, not her. Never her.

The sword came flying from nowhere. It was tossed in her direction, close enough for her to reach it if she so chose. It seemed to chuckle where it lay in the snow, mocking her. I will not transform for you, it seemed to say. You won’t be able to touch me; no other demon is.

She ignored its voice; ignored her wounded pride, urging her to use her claws and teeth and sheer will against Ryukotsusei’s son—anything, really, but the weapon forged to protect the woman her former husband now loved.

He was somewhere in the vicinity, hiding his presence and sparing her the part of damsel (what a joke) in distress. He knew she wouldn’t want him to interfere, but damn him to hell, he already had. She imagined his golden eyes fixed on her, still betting on her after all this time; still willing her to win.

Setsumi was the Inukimi. She adamantly refused to disappoint her Inu no Taisho.

The sword didn’t transform for her, of course, but it also didn’t burn her hand. When the arrogant, juvenile dragon attacked her, it protected her with a barrier. It sparkled and hurt him; she smelled his scales burning, and it made her smile.

After he retreated, she gazed at the rusty sword in her hand. The Inukimi didn’t understand it. It had not transformed for her, but it had still protected her—as if she were human.

Just like it would have happened if the woman Toga loved had touched it, she supposed.

The Inukimi didn’t understand it, not in the least… But Setsumi did.

She dropped the sword to the frozen earth and walked away without looking back. For the first time in God knew how long, she felt like shedding a tear or two. It was odd in a good way; warm and alive, but bittersweet.

She decided to cherish it, only if for a moment, locking the Inukimi away in her chest and letting Setsumi bloom.