Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, I'm just borrowing the characters. But I'll give them back. Maybe.

Rating may change, but for now it's only there for the language.

Starry Night Over the Rhône

Their meeting, though it truly didn't deserve that name, was completely accidental. He shouldn't have been there and she was running late.

Inuyasha was standing outside of the museum, his eyes directed at the sky. The stars couldn't really be seen, and that irked him, for some reason unknown to him. It was still better than to be inside be, though. He glanced back to the giant, fully glassed construction. People were playing the game of meetings and money, and he made it a point to refuse to play his role. If he could make it even slightly more complicated for these vultures, he would take every chance he had.

Once more, he felt thankful for being a painter and not an actor or some other 'fancier' job. You didn't get much more famous than he already was, in this small and closed world, and he received enough attention as it was. Inuyasha Taishô fleeing from the inauguration of a new section named after him in the prestigious museum? There would no doubt be gossip.

He could handle gossips.

He turned back towards the sky, a disgusted scowl on his face.

That's when he heard the footsteps.

Her footsteps.

They were quickly followed by a heavy breathing, and he looked back down to the steps. The museum was on a small hill, and people had to climb a long, long flight of stairs to get there. Hey, art and culture had a price, didn't they?

There was, however, another access, one that came with an elevator, but the small form that hurried up the stairs didn't seem to be aware of it.

Inuyasha had no idea why he was even paying attention to the person, but when she tilted her head back to see how far she was from the museum, his heart missed a beat.

He wanted to paint her.

That was the thought that filled his mind the very first time he saw Kagome Higurashi.

It wasn't so much that she was pretty, although, to him, she really was, nor the fact that she had a troubling resemblance to the only woman he had ever loved — the thought didn't even cross his mind at that moment —, it was something else, something he had trouble naming. Inuyasha wasn't good with words, that was one of the reasons why he painted, after all, but he would have said something about an energy that surrounded her. Those words would have felt empty, though, and wouldn't have done her any justice, however he could not find a way to explain it completely.

She seemed to be full of determination, to have a will strong enough to take down anyone or anything that would stand in her way, and yet she looked like the most human person he had ever met. She felt… Ugh, fuck it. He couldn't put it in words.

Maybe that was why he felt the need to put her on one of his paintings so badly, to feel like he had a better grasp of who she was.

She ran past him, her hair flying free behind her, and didn't pay him any attention, seemingly focused only on her goal, which appeared to be the museum. He caught her smell, and he was surprised to find he liked it.

He liked it a lot.

He held back a growl as he looked away from her, firmly determined to give his attention back to the stars. There was no way in hell that he would indulge that weird desire. Last time hadn't gone well, and he had learnt his lesson. Never again.

But the stars seemed even duller now, and after a short while, he let out an angry snarl and walked back into the building in a few long strides.

The noise immediately assaulted his senses. It wasn't noisy per se, and it would have felt rather calm to a human, actually.

Inuyasha, however, was not human.

His eyes scanned the room, almost despite himself, looking for the woman he had just seen. He didn't really calm down when he didn't find her. He could have gone hunting for her scent, but instead, he walked towards the buffet and grabbed a glass of champagne. He didn't really drink, at least not most of the time, but if he wanted to stop himself from running after someone he had never met and to whom he would anyway forbid himself from talking, he thought he might need a bit of alcohol in his system.

Well, until Miroku, his best (or was it only?) friend snatched said glass from his hand and downed it in one. Inuyasha growled.

"The heck do ya think you're doing?" he protested, although it was too late at that point.

"My dear Inuyasha," Miroku sighed, gently putting his hand on the other man's shoulder, "you should know by now that you have absolutely no tolerance when it comes to alcohol. I was merely considering your well-being."

Inuyasha scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"So what, am I supposed to thank you, too?"

"Well, I would appreciate that, but it is only in my nature to behave in such a way," Miroku said obsequiously, earning another annoyed sound from his friend. He then allowed himself to chuckle and to relax slightly.

"I told you before," Inuyasha mumbled, "I ain't a woman. You don't have to treat me like that."

"And I told you before," Miroku shrugged, "I wouldn't complain if you were interested."

"But I'm not. So would you fuckin' stop already?"

Miroku chuckled. It was just way too easy to get Inuyasha to react. Truth be told, he wasn't interested in the other man, at least not like that, but this was fun.

"Don't you have another someone you should be pestering right now anyway?"

Miroku immediately deflated, which brought a grin on his friend's lips. Inuyasha wouldn't exactly have called Sango a friend, but damn, the girl kept making his days better.

"What? She sent you away already? You're not waisting any time, this thing started less than an hour ago."

"Ah, you just have to rub salt in the wound, don't you? No, I haven't talked to the lovely Sango yet, but I'm afraid she has been avoiding me… Which is why I have been looking for you."

Inuyasha immediately tensed. Uh oh, he didn't like where this was heading. He hated it when Miroku dragged him in his weird plans to approach a girl. He was thankful that, most of the time, the other painter managed to do it all by himself. Miroku had, indeed, a very successful approach technique with women, one for which he was probably just as known as for his actual paintings.

You see, Miroku was what can best be defined as an erotic painter, and that, if you asked him, was the best pick-up line ever. It meant he could go to anyone and ask them if he could paint them like one of those french girls, and he had quite a high chance of succeeding, which meant getting them naked on a couch. Afterwards, it wasn't rare for him to have a 'sexual encounter' with them, as he phrased it.

While he did go after women most of the time, he didn't have anything against men. The money he got from selling his paintings was really just the cherry on top.

That had, however, never worked with Sango Taiji. It shouldn't have been a problem, as Miroku had faced quite a few refusals, but apparently, he took it more to heart this time.

"Come with me," Miroku said, "she won't be able to run away from the artist of the night."

Inuyasha protested, but soon enough, Miroku was dragging him with him in the search of his lady. Of course, Inuyasha knew he would have to talk to her sooner or later — she was, after all, the director of the museum — and at least that way he would help his friend, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

Kagome was ferreting about the museum, examining with only meek interest the various paintings or work of art that were exposed everywhere. She had never been particularly attracted to art, despite her best friend's efforts to get her to pay attention to it. She could be touched by the emotion that came from some of them, but how a black point on a white canvas could be deemed genius was beyond her.

Since she had arrived, she had contemplated sitting down somewhere and enjoying the free drinks and food, but she still had to find said best friend, and honestly, she would be too afraid of accidentally sitting on a work of art.

"Kagome!"

She quickly looked away from a weird heap of metal to look for the source of the voice, and smiled.

Sango walked towards her, smiling just as brightly. She looked dashing in her black, Chinese dress, with a mandarin collar set off in a golden color. Kagome felt cruelly underdressed. She hadn't taken her coat off yet, but her red dress was nothing as… noticeable as what Sango was wearing.

"Take that off, it's so hot in here!" Sango said, helping her out of her jacket with her usual precise movements. "I'm glad you came," she added once she had entrusted one of the employees with the piece of clothing, "I thought you had decided that this wasn't important enough for you."

Kagome gave her an apologetic smile. She knew Sango would have liked to be able to share her passion for art with her, but Kagome just couldn't bring herself to care for it. She still really appreciated Sango's invitation to come here. The upper crust of society was reunited here tonight, and Kagome could almost hear her social studies teacher explaining to her how the appreciation for art and culture was a social indicator.

Entertaining a connection with those people could only be interesting for the young journalist, and even if she didn't talk to them, her mere presence here was enough to show that she knew where to be. Another sort of indicator, in the end.

Sango couldn't help but smiling as she watched her friend's eyes scan the room attentively. She could almost see the wheels turning in her head. As for her, she could easily identify any artist here, and eventually a few famous people, such as the mayor, but that was pretty much it. Kagome would probably be able to give the names of every person she couldn't recognize, as well as their profession and the name of the school where their children went to.

It wasn't as creepy as it sounded, there just wasn't that many really prestigious schools around.

"Let's get moving," Sango urged her friend, casually grabbing her arm.

Kagome tilted her head and looked at her, following her but still curious.

"What is it? Do you need me to take care of someone for you?"

Sango didn't try to conceal her laugh. She was more than capable of taking care of basically anyone, whether it'd be human or demon, if she wanted to, and Kagome knew it. Kagome, on the other hand, had a weird form of natural power that she could use against demons, but she had never tried to use it on purpose. She had actually discovered it completely by accident, less than a year ago.

"I'm avoiding Miroku Houshi," Sango admitted, still moving.

Kagome grimaced sympathetically. She knew the guy had started to hit on Sango when he had made his 'come-back' to the art world after nearly losing his right hand in an accident, and his first paintings since then had been exposed in the museum. She also knew that Sango mentioned him very often. Usually it was to complain, but Kagome had noticed the blush that tended to appear on her friend's cheeks whenever he was the subject of the conversation, and she would not be fooled into believing it was just anger that was going on here.

"And you have to be polite with him because of your job?" she asked, knowing perfectly that it was nothing like that but hoping she could get her friend to talk so that they would eventually be able to make her progress — this had been going on for long enough now.

"No, it's just that I know what kind of men he…" Sango stopped and glanced at Kagome who gave her an innocent smile. "Oh you," she sighed. "Miroku paints naked women or men, sleeps with them, and that's pretty much it."

"Huh," Kagome said thoughtfully. "And you don't want to sleep with him?"

Sango blushed. She would never, ever had admitted that to Miroku, nor to anyone apart from Kagome for that matter. Hell, she had admitted it to herself only very recently. But still, the words managed to escape her lips in a whisper.

"I wouldn't want to… just sleep with him."

Well, now they were getting somewhere, Kagome thought with some satisfaction. Not that she had any idea as to how to solve the problem, but now she could hope that Sango would be able to make the right decision. Possibly. Sango wasn't always the best at making decisions when they involved her.

She was about to say something, to try to comfort her and push her into at least deciding on something, when a deep voice was heard, surprising both of them.

"Evening, ladies."

Sango immediately tensed, and her voice was cold when she spoke.

"Naraku," she said, meeting his eyes. She didn't smile, she didn't extend her hand, and next to her, Kagome straightened up. Naraku was the owner of a very big and private gallery. He was ridiculously rich, and had quite the reputation. It was said that weird things happened to people who bought what he sold, particularly the ones signed by a mysterious man named 'Onigumo'.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Sango," he said unctuously. "Once again, I think this will prove to be a complete success. I hope you won't mind if I say that I still hope you will soon start working for me."

"Of course not," Sango answered, still not smiling. "It is your right after all. Now if you don't mind, I have things to…"

"I don't think I've been introduced to your friend," he interrupted her, his eyes now glued to Kagome.

The journalist had to stop herself from shivering in… In what, exactly? Was it fear that she was feeling? Or disgust? She couldn't tell, but it had to be one of those emotions. She mustered the courage to give him a polite smile, but she didn't like to have the man's attention on her. It was too strong. Kagome thought of herself as pretty, but she wasn't that mesmerizing. She held out her hand, hoping to break the weird tension she was feeling.

"Kagome Higurashi," she said lightly. "I'm a journalist at the Shikon Shrine."

"Ah, you must work for Kaede, then?"

She nodded. The old woman was, indeed, the director of the journal. Given how successful Naraku was, it wouldn't be a surprise if he knew her personally.

"Well, you'll give her my regards, Miss Higurashi."

She hated the way he said her name. Slowly, detaching every syllable, his tone way too sweet. At that moment, she found him absolutely repulsive, and she wanted nothing more than to run away. But adults don't do that, she remembered. They don't cower when they're faced with danger. She was sure Naraku meant danger.

The black-haired man bowed slightly and walked away. The two women watched him intensely, both tensed, but none of them could see through his back, and therefore none of them saw the smug, sadistic smile that made its way to the man's face.

Sango turned back towards Kagome and opened her mouth to warn her friend, once more, against that man, despite knowing that she probably didn't need to.

"Sango!"

She froze. Shit. She had stayed in place for too long. She glanced behind her shoulder, willing to see Miroku's position so that she could run away in the most efficient manner, only to notice that he was accompanied by tonight's star.

She was sure he had done it on purpose.

It almost brought a smile on her face, how much he seemed to try to get close to her, but she managed to compose a calm and professional face before turning towards them.

"Miroku, Inuyasha," she greeted them with absolute impassivity. "It is always a pleasure to see you."

She intended on talking mostly to Inuyasha, and have the other stupid painter who dared to make her feel… Actually, who dared to make her feel, but she quickly forgot about those plans when she saw that Inuyasha was staring at Kagome with an attention that she had never seen coming from him, and even less so directed towards a woman.

That was new.

So she reluctantly focused on Miroku, already feeling her heart fluttering and her stomach making weird leaps. Damn it.

Of course, Miroku had been the one to spot Sango. Inuyasha wasn't exactly looking for her, despite what he had told to his friend. Seeing her talking to Naraku had almost made him growl. He had only had very few encounters with the man, but he didn't like him. Not one bit.

However, that wasn't what had angered him the most. No, it was when he had seen him shift his attention from Sango — and had he paid any attention to him, he would have seen Miroku's shoulders visibly relax — to the black-haired woman who he had seen coming in late. The one who he had wanted to paint. The urge hadn't disappeared, but as he studied her, dread suddenly poured over him.

She looked like Kikyô.

Fuck. Fuck.

That should have sent him running away immediately, but it shouldn't have surprised him. He had wanted to paint Kikyô too, hadn't he? Looked like he had a type after all.

He heard Miroku call Sango's name as Naraku walked away, and at that point, he was willing to just leave him alone. He still had no idea why he hadn't, but he kept looking at the girl.

She was pretty, he noted, but she wasn't beautiful. Kikyô's beauty was cold, almost scary. There was nothing scary about that girl. Kikyô was all angles and rigidity, while that girl felt more… Well. Fluctuant? Maybe it was her face that made him think that, slightly rounder than Kikyô's, or just the way she acted, like she wasn't restrained by anything.

He really had to stop using words. Words were terrible. He itched to get his hands on a brush and start painting. That would make everything clearer.

She turned towards him and Miroku as the man called out Sango's name, and their eyes met.

Kagome's breath caught in her throat. She had been very curious to see what that Miroku looked like, but her eyes only brushed over him, immediately attracted to the man next to him. The first thing she noticed was his long black hair. She was vaguely aware of Sango engaging a conversation with Miroku, and that's when her eyes met those of the stranger.

He had deep, violet eyes, and they carried so many emotions that she didn't know what to make of them. It felt like she was suddenly in the middle of an ocean of contradictory feelings on which she had no control. She couldn't really identify them as she stared at the man, her blue eyes wide, but there was something terribly strong about those emotions.

She managed to tear herself away from the silent exchange of whatever it was that was going on between them when Miroku asked about her. She had just focused on him again when she heard Sango answer that her friend was Kagome Higurashi, and was more than confused when he took a step forward and grabbed her hands.

"Such a pretty name for such a beautiful woman," he said smoothly.

She noticed his eyes glancing quickly over to Sango and it was so obvious that she wanted to scream. Was he trying to make her jealous? By flirting with her best friend? Did he seriously think that would work?

There was no way he could be that stupid, right?

And then she saw Sango biting her lip not to laugh. Sango barely expressed emotions on the job, except for when Kagome was around. So that meant that guy had cracked her shell enough to see that.

Oh. Oh. This could turn into something more serious.

Kagome gently freed her hands and gave Miroku a bright smile.

"It's a pleasure to be meeting you, M. Houshi. I've heard a lot about you."

She noticed Sango's eyes widening, and she knew the glare that followed meant another "Oh you", though probably on a completely different tone, but that was nothing compared to Miroku's reaction. A genuine smile appeared on his lips, and she almost didn't hear the "You did?" he squeaked.

Why were these two not together yet, exactly?

"And this is Inuyasha Taishô," Sango said, making Kagome look away from Miroku. "Inuyasha, Kagome. Kagome, Inuyasha."

Kagome quickly licked her lips before pulling them into a smile and held out her hand. Her heart was beating slightly faster than it should have been, and she could honestly have punched herself. What was wrong with her? She wasn't a teenager anymore! She wasn't supposed to get shy or embarrassed when she met a hot guy, damn it!

Even one as handsome as that one.

Because of that, it took her a second to register his name, and to realize he was the artist that was celebrated that night. Which meant she should have said something, but she had no idea what he did. Was he a painter? A sculptor? Her mind was perfectly blank, so all she said was "it's a pleasure to meet you."

Fortunately, she had a wonderful best friend.

"Inuyasha is the painter whose works we will start exposing tonight," Sango said, with just a hint of amusement in her voice. "His new paintings are upstairs, actually." She then turned to Inuyasha and offered the gracious, perfectly mastered smile of a businesswoman, for that was, in many ways, what her job was about. "I was hoping you would do us the honor of saying a speech."

While Kagome thanked Sango interiorly and decided that she would do absolutely anything to get her with Miroku, Inuyasha had to hide his panic. He knew he had the reputation of being a bit… unsociable, to say the least, and that no one would expect much from him, but he still hated to have to express himself in public. Being an artist actually meant that people thought he was 'eccentric' and didn't mock him, but that didn't make it something he enjoyed. He cursed himself for not expecting that from Sango.

He opened his mouth to bark his refusal, however he was well-aware of the fact that this wasn't really an option. Sango knew how much he hated that stuff, and she wouldn't have asked unless she had a good reason, probably the presence of some journalist from an art magazine. Kagome, who had almost overcome her first embarrassment, noticed his annoyance.

"You didn't prepare a speech?"

Inuyasha's head turned towards her in a snapping movement that surprised her. He looked like she had caught him off-guard, and he vaguely reminded her of how her brother looked when he hadn't done his homework, for some reason.

"So what," Inuyasha hissed, probably taking his anger out on her more than he should have, "you got a problem with that?"

Kagome blinked. She was the one caught off-guard now, because she certainly hadn't expected such hostility.

"Erm, no," she backpedalled, because she didn't, "I was just surprised, but…" she glanced at Sango who was looking at her attentively, and gave her friend a grin. "It's not like it would be my first time writing a speech for someone in five minutes, now, would it?"

To say Inuyasha was surprised by what she seemed to be offering would have been a euphemism. Then, he saw Sango give a wide, very satisfied smirk, and he thought that in a world where Sango could have such an expression, everything was possible. He just needed to find out when and how he had left his usual reality.

"You'd do that?" Miroku asked, chiming in. "I'm sure Inuyasha would appreciate."

He had a bright smile, but the look he gave Inuyasha wasn't completely genuine. It looked more like he was going to try something with Kagome, that would eventually benefit his relation with Sango, but Inuyasha had no idea what twisted plan his perverted friend had in mind yet.

"Sango, could you get me a napkin?"

Sango turned around and deftly grabbed one from a tray as an employee passed by. Her move went completely unnoticed, making Miroku's eyes widen. Wow, she was good with her hands.

… That wasn't supposed to sound like that. Or maybe it was. He couldn't tell. Still, Sango looked beautiful when she seemed to be having fun.

Kagome was pretty much the only one who could get Sango into such mischief, which was funny, given the fact that they were both typical 'good girls' and yet together they managed to turn into some sort of machiavellian entity.

Not that this was Machiavellian. But they had done much worse. Or better. Probably depended on the point of view.

For example, the director of the museum whom Sango had replaced would have said they had done done worse. That, however, is an other story, for another time.

Kagome looked around for a pen, or anything to write with, and frowned slightly when Sango held out a brush. Well, they were here for a painter, weren't they? She grabbed it and started writing, with Sango looking over her shoulder and giving her a few career informations on Inuyasha.

She looked at the time. It would soon be the exact time of the inauguration, which was when it would be 'normal' for Inuyasha to give his speech. Grabbing Kagome's elbow, she proceeded on dragging her to the first floor, gesturing for Inuyasha to follow them and, well, Miroku tagged along. Not that she really minded.

Kagome remained completely focused on what she was doing, obediently following Sango and listening to her when she warned her about the stairs. It really was just a few sentences' speech, but if Inuyasha's problem was words, she needed it to sound and feel natural, which was what was slowing her down at the moment.

She didn't notice Sango's hand leaving her arm and kept moving. She was about to crash into a wall when hands gripped her shoulders, effectively stopping her.

"Hm?"

She looked up, slightly confused as to why she was so close from a wall, and then turned around to see Inuyasha. His hands had already left her shoulders, and he had actually buried them in his red pants, like he wanted to stop himself from doing something like that again.

Or like he had hated the touch.

Don't read too much into it, Kagome.

So what if her love life was pathetic since her break up with Hojo? She couldn't start to imagine things with every handsome stranger she met!

She then noticed that Sango was saying a few words to introduce Inuyasha, and she cursed under her breath. She reread what she had written quickly. It wasn't perfect, and some sentences probably sounded too 'written' for an oral speech, but that was the best she could do with so little time.

Without thinking, she grabbed Inuyasha's wrist, forcing him to take his hand out of his pocket and sticked the napkin into it.

"There," she said, not really noticing his almost shocked expression. "Just stick to the script, okay?"

Inuyasha muttered something under his breath, feeling his cheeks heat up. Damn it, he hated that. There was a reason why he stayed away from people! Miroku didn't count, since Miroku had practically forced his friendship on him.

His eyes skimmed through the napkin and his face slightly lit up with relief. If he had tried to do something like that, it would have been terrible, and he probably would have torn the paper before even getting to his speech, but what was written… Looked right. She had a terrible writing, but if he could decipher it, it should actually help him.

He was about to say something when he heard Sango finishing her introduction. It was his turn. He turned away from the woman and walked to the balcony. The most important people in town were gathered there, waiting for him to say something. Probably ready to revel into how he couldn't talk properly and then say that he was 'wonderfully eccentric'.

What a bunch of assholes. Saying that just allowed them to feel superior to him in some way.

He cleared his throat and started reading from the napkin. He was no actor, sure, but he felt like he did a good enough job at not looking like he was reading too much.

Once he was done and everybody had clapped politely and with more or less enthusiasm, he shoved the napkin into his pocket. He'd throw it out when he'd find a trash can.

Sango gave him a smile that seemed more genuine than it usually was, but he discovered that the woman was gone.

Not like he cared.

Miroku patted him on the shoulder, congratulating him and singing the woman's praises in a way that just made Inuyasha think he was trying to get on Sango's good side. Inuyasha merely shrugged. He had to be there for another hour before he could leave without being rude. Oh, it would surely be eccentric, but those people adored that, didn't they?

He stood by what he'd thought earlier, even if he doubted there was so much they could say after thay speech.

What a bunch of assholes.

Kagome was bored. Absolutely, completely, desperately and utterly bored. She had come here to make connections, and she thought she had been doing a rather good job at that so far, but it really wasn't any fun. Saying the newspaper's name immediately made people try to win her over — better to have a journalist friend rather than an enemy — or just to drive her away. She was getting tired of old men trying to feel her up or young wolves declining any form of contact with her.

Metaphorical young wolves, meaning young businessmen hungry for power, although there were a few wolves demons around.

She wanted to leave, she really did, but that would be plain disrespectful for Sango, and she knew she had to stay if she wanted to leave a good impression on the town's 'nobility'. Journalist or not, unless they deemed her worthy of walking in their world, they would make her life a living hell. They wouldn't go directly against someone working for Kaede Nomiko, but even her protection had its limits.

She noticed dark hair flying as someone escaped the party through the front door. Without giving it too much thought, because that wasn't how she functioned, she reached for the door, catching it before it closed, and saw Inuyasha making his way down the stairs, his hands deep in his pockets and his back slightly leaning backwards.

"Nice speech!" she yelled.

He froze and turned to look at her.

Well, she was there to make connections, wasn't she? She ran to Inuyasha and slipped her card in his hand.

He frowned, vaguely looking at the small, red dress she was wearing before thinking that this was a terrible idea and looking away as quickly as possible, urging his brain to stop thinking about where she had kept that card or that red looked great on her.

"If you ever need help for something like that again, you can just give me a call," she said with a bright smile.

She was about to turn around and go back, knowing that she'd spent the rest of the night now wanting to punch herself for doing something like that when he wrapped his fingers around her arm.

"Hang on a second," Inuyasha said sternly. "Why did you do that?"

"Hm, well, I mean, I know we haven't talked a lot, but, erm, I still think it would be nice if you, hm, would call me?" she stuttered, all too aware of how burning her cheeks were and of his hand on her skin.

But Inuyasha shook his head, forbidding his brain to register or to interpret what she had said during her nervous ramble.

"No, I meant, why did you write the speech?"

"Oh." Now she felt even more stupid then before. Something else to kick herself for. "Well, you needed help," she said bluntly. Inuyasha blinked, and then Kagome smiled, her eyes almost sparkling. "And I thought it would be fun."

With that, she slipped out of his grip, gave him a wave, and yelled "call me if you want to!" while climbing back up the stairs.

She couldn't believe that stupid evening wasn't over yet.

Inuyasha stared dumbly at the glass doors for a few seconds after she'd disappeared. His hands were itching even more now that he had seen that last smile. He wanted to paint her.

He never painted people. The last time had been five years ago and that had been a terrible mistake, for which he thought he had paid more than enough.

He glanced down at the card that read 'Kagome Higurashi - Journalist' along with her contacts informations. He thought about throwing it away so he would never have the tentation, but then, he might need her help again. There was bound to be times when people would ask him to say a longer speech, and he would rather never ask for Miroku for help again for something like that — the man couldn't be trusted.

He angrily shoved the card in his pocket, crumpling it in the process, promising himself not to call her unless absolutely necessary.

He would get her out of his mind easily, he thought. Sure, he hadn't gotten that urge in a long time, but it was just that. An urge. Nothing he needed to worry about.

So why did his heart refuse to calm down?

Well, that was quite long for a first chapter, wasn't it? I hope you've enjoyed it! It's my first time trying to write an Inuyasha AU. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot, then it turned into a short, light-hearted fic, and now it has a (somewhat) complex plot and it's going to be a lot longer, ahah.

Please let me know what you thought in the reviews! It's amazing to know that people enjoy what I write and constructive criticism will help me make this story better!

Dya.