-A/N- So I have revamped this story... The plot remains intact, I have just rearranged events and deleted some scenes. I hope it is all still good!

Any French will be translated at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of the characters therin. I am merely a fan seeking to entertain myself and others.

-the story-

"Where the hell is he?" Miroku was pacing the floor of the shooting room, constantly looking out into hallway and then at his watch.

"Who?" Shippou, the cameraman, offered Miroku a cup of much appreciated coffee, which was taken and "fixed" with about an ounce of whiskey from a flask that disappeared into Miroku's inside coat pocket just as easily as it had appeared.

"Inuyasha!"

"I'm sure he'll be here soon. Rou-Kun…calm down. Besides, why are you stressed out today, of all days? He's been late before." Asked Shippou, as he sipped his own coffee.

Miroku went on to explain that a big-time exec from BeauxJeunes ('…like the number one clothier in the history of the universe!...') was coming to pick the right models for their image ('…because their execs are too high and mighty to let us pick the models…oh no! They have to pick them, themselves!...')

Shippou just nodded his head as Miroku went on and on about how he hated his job.

Fifteen minutes into the rage that Miroku was forcing upon Shippou's ears, the door swung open, slamming into the wall as it did so. "There he is." Pointed out Shippou. Miroku's head whipped around snapping out of his 'I-hate-stupid-agencies' rant and into the 'Where-the-fuck-were-you-Inuyasha' rant.

"Chill out, Miroku! Jeez! It's not like I missed the shoot or anything. Besides, whoever is here to see me isn't here yet. What were they again? Jewish?" Inuyasha plopped down in one of the chairs near the row of makeup counters. After carving a rude word into the makeup counter with the file end of a pair of nail clippers he said, "Oi! Where be the makeup lady at?"

Miroku cringed at Inuyasha's deliberate butchering of their spoken language, "They are French, her name is Sango, and she is right over there having her lunch." Motioning toward her and saying rather sarcastically, "I think our little delinquent is ready for his makeup now Sango. Sorry to tear you away from your meal, but…the favourite wants to be made up. This instant! And we must keep him happy"

Sango looked pathetically at her lunch, sighed, got her makeup tote and began making up the spoiled brat sitting in the chair.

Later (but not much), Inuyasha inquired further of this French/Jewish clothing company.

Through clenched teeth Miroku hissed, "For the fourth time they are not Jewish at all! They are just French. Not Cuban, Austrian, or Korean. French."

"Oh!" said Inuyasha with a tone of revelation. 'Thank God he finally got it!' praised Miroku. "Are they those people with the different language? And the wine?"

"Yes! Shippou, Sango! He get's it! There's hope yet!" The afore mentioned simply rolled their eyes.

"They're Italian, right?"…He didn't get it.

Miroku could not fathom the reason why this was so hard for this young man sitting in front of him to understand that this group of people was from France. "Inuyasha, France is a country right about here." Pointing to the country on a conveniently placed globe that was sitting just to the right of a can of hairspray. "The people who are coming to speak to you are French. They are from this country right here. They speak French. And they are—"

"Right there." Shippou motioned towards the door, directing Miroku and Inuyasha's attention to the small group of people in the doorway.

Miroku put down the globe, straightened his jacket, and coolly walked over to the group, which consisted of two dottery old men and a young woman (who seemed to be in charge) "Bon Jour, mademoiselle. Comment vos vols?"

"Ah…c'était fatigant et c'était sans incidents."

"C'est bon…je pense. Ah, je m'appelle Miroku, comment vous appelez-vous?" Asked Miroku, forgetting about the gentlemen of the group momentarily.

"Je m'appelle Kagome Higurashi."

"Est-ce que je demander une question à vous?"

"Oui."

"Est-ce que vous enfantez mes enfants?"

Of course Kagome slapped him. Who wouldn't after a question like that!

Sango just rolled her eyes, "Come on, Romeo. Let the people meet the person they came here to meet."

Inuyasha stoof from his makeup chair to investigate the foreign group, "Any of you Jewish, French, Italians know how to speak Japanese?"

Ahamedly, Miroku introduced everyone in the group to Inuyasha, who was striking his most famous poses, and who '…is quite possibly, almost, maybe, the male version of Japan's Ebihara Yuri.'

Kagome hadn't been listening to Miroku much, because she had read Inuyasha's paperwork, she watched as Inuyasha displayed his blatant portrayal of manliness (showing off of his muscles and the like.) She turned to ask Miroku, "He's an ass isn't he?"

"Well…um…yes. But he's our ass."

End Ch. 1

-A/N- Here is the translation to the French!

"Hello, miss. How was your flight?"

"Oh, it was tiring and uneventful."

"That's good…I guess. Oh, my name is Miroku, what is your's?" Asked Miroku, forgetting about the gentlemen of the group momentarily. (but of course you knew that, it was in English to start)

"My name is Kagome Higurashi."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Would you bear my children?"

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