Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story. All rights go to Rumiko Takahashi. That is all.
Summary: Twenty-five year old Inuyasha is a street wise detective on the hunt for an international art thief, that seems to know his every move. Twenty-six year old Miroku is a simple bartender with a secret. Two friends linked and fated to betrayal.
Prologue
(Inuyasha's POV)
My white hair tosses in the breeze and I'm so close to catching the bastard that's been evading me for months. I quickly turn the corner and find the strength to pick
up speed. "Stop running!" I yell as the man cloaked in black dashed into a mall and amidst the crowd. "Crap." Swearing under my breath, I sweep my golden eyes
over the crowd, scanning quickly. 'He will not escape me this time.' I consider drawing my gun, but creating a panic would help nothing. Then I notice something that
catches my eye, the quick movement of dark fabric as it disappears behind a wall. Grinning now, I continue my pursuit of a thrifty thief. I weave my way through the
mass of living, breathing, and talking obstacles, in search of a criminal. 'Where could he have gone?'
I soon find myself in an nearly empty store, the only item that is in sight is a familiar black cloak. "Son of a bitch."
I mutter as I pick up the black clothing in a tight
fist, my mouth set in a firm line. Anger grips my nerves and I reflexively punch the floor, unaware of the pain my provoked reaction caused. I cram the evidence into
a plastic bag, throwing my patience to the wind. "This isn't over..." I gather myself enough to get to my feet and scan the room one more time. I tuck the evidence
bag under my arm and walk back out into the bustling crowd, making my way to the elevator. I ignore the distractions around me, there's only one thing on my one
tracked mind. I need a drink to rid myself of this tension. I know just what the cure is; thirty minutes in a bar to hash out everything with my favorite bartender and
best friend.