Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or it's characters
Wrong Side of the Well
Stupid Kagome. Stupid Kagome's mom. Inuyasha thought, jabbing fiercely at the thing in his hands.
This was the ultimate humiliation. When he'd come through the well to get Kagome, he'd been caught off guard by her mother's insistence that she stay home a bit longer.
"She has to be there, Inuyasha" she'd said firmly. "But perhaps..." she hesitated, and his ears twitched nervously when a wicked gleam entered her eye. "Perhaps you could go be there with her."
"I...uh...I can just come back and get her when she's done," he said, edging closer to the door.
She sighed and nodded, going back to chopping her vegetables.
"I understand. You're probably really busy with things to do on the other side," she agreed, and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Really, I never would have even mentioned it, if it wasn't for the fact that Kagome said a couple of the young men there make her a bit uncomfortable."
Inuyasha was back by her side in an instant, fangs bared. "And you let her go without me?" he growled dangerously, before snagging the bandana lying on the counter and racing out the door.
Mrs. Higurashi calmly continued preparing dinner, a mischievous smile on her face.
And that was the reason he was here. He'd never thought that Mrs. Higurashi would have a cruel side to her, but obviously he was wrong. When he'd burst into the room, intent on killing, or at least maiming, every male in sight, he'd been brought up short.
"Wanted to make sure you didn't miss out on any of the fun huh," a sarcastic voice came from the corner. "Take a seat over there and get started please." Inuyasha gaped, as a tall, thin woman pointed to the empty seat next to Kagome. He shuffled over reluctantly and sat. Kagome's eyes twinkled as she tried to stifle a smile.
After a few moments of working in silence, she glanced over. "So Inuyasha, how long have you been interested in sewing?" she whispered, not quite holding in a giggle. "Shut up wench," he muttered, "Your mom didn't tell me what the class was."
"But don't you like your project?" she tittered, pointing to the paper in front of him, which held step-by-step instructions for his craft. His eyes focused on the picture at the top and narrowed. His job was to decorate a cat pillow. With a muttered oath he went back to stabbing the pillow repeatedly with the needle, wishing for once, that he'd stayed on his side of the well.