Disclaimer: Not my characters, I'm just borrowing them and not being paid.
Author's Note: I wrote this story as if it was in Japan. However, sometimes I write the term 'freshman' or 'senior' instead of 'first-year student' or 'third-year student' . Please, forgive me for technical inaccuracy! I know that Japanese high school has three years, not four. If I call someone a 'senior' instead of a 'third-year student' – pretend they are the same, for this story? (I will try not to do this.)
No Such Thing As Free Lunch
Chapter 1:
"Sesshoumaru-sama," whispered an urgent sounding childlike voice. "Wake up, wake up!"
He groaned and rolled over in bed, looking at the alarm on his desk. It was 6:30 AM, and far too early to be awake, considering that he had stayed up until almost two o'clock in the morning studying. Such was life.
"Wha- is't Rin?" the pale-haired high-school student mumbled incoherently.
"Rin does not have an o-bento box for lunch today!"
A gust of cold air struck his legs and he felt the covers shift, as a warm body crawled under the sheets and pressed against him. The elementary schooler attached herself to him like a limpet and refused to let go. "Yes, you do," Sesshoumaru corrected, still half-asleep and not thinking clearly. "Asako always …"
Then he remembered. Asako was dead, just like Izayoi, and his own mother. With Father's incredible track record preceding him, it was a wonder that any women would agree to marry him at all.
And of course, wife number four was not about to waste her precious beauty sleep to make an elaborate lunchbox for someone else's ex-children. Yura was (if possible) even worse than all the previous women Touga brought home, combined. One look at the woman and it was easy to tell she was a complete slut. What kind of respectable lady wore clothing that low-cut in public? Father must be getting desperate.
"Of course, I remember now." Stretching, Sesshoumaru sat up with a grade-schooler still attached to his midriff. "Today I was going to make you a special lunch. A special lunch for fourth graders."
"Yay!" Rin cheered, finally releasing him so that he could make his way to the bathroom.
How inconvenient! He had enough on his plate already, without being forced to make meals for the family. Class representative, kendo club leader, top of his class at Shinota High School, plus he had cram-school most nights until 8:00 PM, in an effort to prepare for the college exams. How was he supposed to play nursemaid too?
All right, fine. Technically, no one was forcing him to do so. But Rin had never lost a mother before, and he felt sorry for the pint-sized squirt. Unlike Sesshoumaru or Inuyasha, Rin could not even claim Touga as one of her 'real' parents. She was totally alone in the world.
Shuffling into the kitchen, he washed and prepared some rice, as he tried to remember what Izayoi had typically prepared for lunch. Asako had only made o-bento boxes for her own daughter, leaving the elder step-sons to fend for themselves. But Izayoi had carefully wrapped meals for all the children in the family. So, Sesshoumaru had eaten a few tasty lunches of his own, all the way through middle school.
Pickled radish, he thought absently, Fried shrimp, rice balls… Hn. Maybe regular shrimp since I don't have time to bread and fry them…
Half an hour later, Inuyasha stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into one of the chairs. "You look good in an apron, dog," grumbled his ornery half-brother. "Hey! Where's my lunch?"
"You're in high school now. Get a girl to make you one."
"Idiot."
"Oh?" mocked Sesshoumaru, "No one is interested? Of course not. Look at your face."
"Bastard," the younger boy growled in return. "Do you have any idea how awful it is to hear about how wonderful you are this early in the morning? It makes me sick. The more you push girls away, the more they want you."
Ignoring his half-brother, he tied a knot in the brightly patterned fabric that surrounded his little step-sister's lunch box. "Here you go, Rin," he finished calmly.
In return, the nine-year old tackled him with another hug. "Thank you Sesshoumaru-husband," she chirped happily, "Someday when we are married, I will cook for you!"
As Sesshoumaru pulled Rin's arms away from his waist and pushed her out the door toward school, his half-brother cackled gleefully in the background. Inuyasha was next to leave. Slinging his bag over one shoulder, the younger sibling called out to his elder brother with a smirk. "You're going to be late, you know? I'm always late, and you're leaving at the same time as me."
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened. He hadn't even packed his things yet! How could this be happening?
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
As predicted, Sesshoumaru was late for his first class. He had never been tardy before in his life, but today he had broken that record. The worst part was that he could not even regret his actions. There was absolutely nothing that he could have done to move any faster that morning – Rin had needed an o-bento. It had only been a couple weeks since her mother died, and while the girl did not show it yet, he knew she felt the loss. Buying her a cheap, imitation lunch would have been an insult.
With a sigh, he straightened his tie and slid back the door. His teacher stared in shock. It was like the balding professor could not believe what he was seeing. Sesshoumaru Inuhito was never late to school – either he showed up early, or he was violently ill and could not show up at all.
Still, protocol had to be followed. "You're late," the teacher mouthed in awe. "As the class representative, when you are late for class, this sets a bad example for everyone else. Please stay after school today for clean-up duty."
Every eye in the room followed him as he slid into his seat and pulled out his notes. Despite himself, Sesshoumaru felt the back of his neck heating up, and he hoped the high collar on his uniform did not show the blush. All his life, he had tried to be the best, and he had easily succeeded. To be second-best was the same as failure, and failure meant dying a horrible death, cold and alone, in some remote corner of the Earth. No, not literally. But it certainly felt that way sometimes.
At first, it was simple enough – when he had done well in pre-school, his mother had praised him. Making Mother proud had given him a warm feeling of accomplishment, and he wanted more of it.
Later, when Mother died, things had grown complicated. Suddenly, he was no longer the shining star of the family. His Father took a new wife and loved Izayoi completely. Although Inuyasha had never been an exceptional child, both of his parents had commended his every action. Walking? A perfectly normal activity that everyone learned to do at some point – but the first time that Inuyasha accomplished it, he was petted and praised within an inch of his life. Grade-school? Inuyasha never did well, but Izayoi had hugged him for good grades as much as bad ones.
As a boy, Sesshoumaru had never fully understood what he was feeling. All he had known was that his performance no longer mattered. There was nothing he could do that would make him special in his parents' eyes – he could have flown to the moon and back, but his father and step-mother would have continued to treat him exactly the same as his unaccomplished half-brother.
But sometimes, when he passed a test with the highest score or he achieved a remarkable score in a sporting event, his mother's voice had filtered through to him, telling him that he did well. The teachers and mentors at school had slowly become a prism reflecting her voice, reminding him that all was well – he was exceptional, while his half-brother was average. Even if Father did not see it, this was enough reward. He would outshine and surpass them all, and the teachers would praise him in place of Mother.
By the time Izayoi died, this behavior had become habitual. The third wife, Asako, had commented once that he seemed very stressed and perhaps a teenager should take breaks every now and then. He had responded so harshly that she had never spoken to him again. But then, she deserved it, for suggesting that he settle for being a typical, mediocre, useless, brainless, bowl of jello-pudding. Since when did a run-of-the-mill, average nobody get anywhere in life? Never.
And so, Sesshoumaru stayed at the top of his class every year, consistently outperforming the other students. He was the best at every sport, he was elected class-representative, he ran the school kendo club, and he performed enough extra-curricular activities that his resume could have filled a small binder if he had listed each one.
He also did not enjoy talking to other people. For some reason, this had increased his reputation even more. When he did speak to others, he was always polite, and rather than describing him as 'cold' the students and teachers had decided that he was 'modest.' This suited him, so Sesshoumaru did not correct them.
Until now, the only one to break through his defenses was Rin (a.k.a. the limpet). This had thrown him for a loop briefly. Most girls that asked him out were far older and less persistent than his little step-sibling. However, he was unable to push her away. If he tried, then the grade-schooler returned the next morning with a bright smile in place, ready to try again. After a while, Sesshoumaru had simply accepted her presence, and he assumed that she would grow out of this phase eventually.
As for girls… Inuyasha, for all his short-comings, had described the situation accurately that morning. The more he pushed them away, the more they fawned over him. Naturally, his half-brother was only half-correct though. Sesshoumaru did push girls away, but only the unworthy ones. It was not his fault that almost all of them were unworthy. Furthermore, the first result had nothing to do with the second one. High-school girls did seem strangely enamored of him, but this was not because he ignored them, it was because he was a model student.
Besides, there was only one girl he wanted to date.
His gaze slid surreptitiously to the side, checking whether she had noticed or frowned upon his behavior that morning. But the object of his affection remained indifferent as usual. That was one of the things he liked most about her. She never let anything rattle or upset her. His shoulders relaxed. As long as Kikyou did not care about the situation, then his tardiness was excusable.
Sitting beside the window, she kept her chin turned down toward her textbooks. Long, glossy black hair fell in waves to her waist, outlined by the sun through the glass panes, and her lashes obscured his view of her eyes. Honestly, she was very beautiful.
Her looks were not the reason he had noticed her though. He paid attention to her, because Kikyou was exactly like him. She was also a class representative. She was dependable, mature, and intelligent. No matter what happened in their class, she was always there, helping to take care of the problem. Even though he had worked hard his entire life, it nevertheless amazed him to see another person like that existed in the world. Most of his peers were lazy and relatively boring, but Kikyou obviously studied and followed her dreams. She had even surpassed him a few times on exams.
In fact, Sesshoumaru felt that she was even more worthy of respect than he was. Not only did she uphold her excellent grades, flawlessly juggle extra-curricular activities and school clubs, but also she found time to mentor other students. She was good with people, not only schoolwork. Sometimes, just thinking about it made him shiver in awe.
He was never jealous of his fellow class representative. Jealousy was reserved for his home-life – he resented it when other people (namely Inuyasha) received credit for things they did not do. In Kikyou, he found not a rival, but an idol. The challenge was to keep up with her, not in order to defeat her, but to better himself. It was a refreshing change of pace, actually.
The bell rang and he gathered his things, only to see a pair of familiar-looking shoes approach his desk. Sesshoumaru straightened and faced the very person that he had been thinking about all period. With a tentative smile, Kikyou nodded her head.
"Technically, I have clean-up duty all this week," she said kindly, "You don't have to come after school if you don't want."
He ran over the words in his mind, inspecting them from multiple angles. Did that mean that she wanted to avoid his company, or get him in trouble with the professor for failing to show up? But no, this was Kikyou. Most likely, she was trying to be kind. She was responsible for cleaning the classroom and would not force him to do something as punishment, despite their teacher's reluctant insistence. His heart warmed at the thought.
"It's all right," he replied, "I was late, after all. Take the afternoon off."
"Thank you," answered his fellow classmate, gifting him with another one of her placid, calming smiles. "You're very understanding."
Before he could wish her a nice day, she departed the classroom, joining the throng of students in the hallway. Sesshoumaru realized, belatedly, that he could have offered to clean the classroom with her, instead of alone. Damn.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The next day, he started earlier than ever. O-bento box-lunch ingredients had been bought, along with a cookbook on the subject. Rin had informed him of all her favorite dishes. He was ready to go.
The walk to school was uneventful. His first period was not objectionable. Classes were fairly interesting as far as schoolwork went. It was just another day – until the break between his last two periods.
At that point, as he walked to his locker, he was waylaid by a group of girls from his class. "Thank you sooo much for your help, Sesshoumaru!" the first one grinned. "That math problem was easy after you explained it."
"Yes, we would have never figured it out otherwise!" the second one squealed.
Staring down at them blankly, Sesshoumaru stretched his memory and tried to remember where he had met them. Had he helped them on a Calculus problem? It was hard to remember sometimes.
In any case, it was silly for them to mention it. Any class representative would have done the same. Namely, Kikyou. She was always helping people with their homework. Sesshoumaru felt obliged to meet her standards.
For some reason though, the only people who ever requested his assistance were female. He took a deep breath and nodded once. "It was no trouble."
"Oh, but it was really nice of you," smiled the third, a light blush dotting her cheeks. "Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?"
"That won't be necessary," he answered curtly, opening his locker and packing his books for the end of the day. He liked to leave directly after his club meetings, rather than returning to his locker through the deserted hallways of their building.
"Maybe a CD?" the second one asked, persistently. "What kind of music do you like?"
Sesshoumaru grit his teeth, but maintained a neutral expression. "No, please. I was happy to help."
Seeing that their appreciation (a.k.a. harassment) was not turning out the way they had planned, the three girls exchanged a look and surrendered the battle, if not the war. "Well, okay! Thanks again! See you tomorrow!"
With an inaudible sigh of relief, he closed his locker door. The action dislodged a little piece of paper stuck in the grill, and it fluttered to the ground. The paper was folded in thirds with a sticker in the shape of a heart sealing the folds. Sesshoumaru frowned. When had that gotten in his locker?
One of the three girls had probably managed to slip this into his locker while he was distracted. Or perhaps, it had been there before he arrived? Scratching his head, Sesshoumaru pocketed the letter and made his way to his final class of the day.
It was obviously a love-letter. And if it was penned by one of the three simpering females he had spoken with in the hall, then he was not so certain he wanted to open it. But there was always the off-chance that the letter was from someone else. He received a fair number of these over the course of any given year, but usually girls waited until later in the semester to start sending them.
Finally, he gave in to temptation. It was not the most elaborate note he had ever gotten, nor the most outlandish. The paper was plain and the heart-shaped sticker was not too ostentatious and showy. Besides, his last class of the day was history – and Sesshoumaru already had read the textbook over the summer. He was bored enough to read anything at the moment.
Meet me by the tennis courts at five o'clock, please, read the note. There was no signature, but the handwriting within was neat and organized. No frills or excessive femininity. All in all, the letter seemed bold and confident, which was good, but it did not admit to an author, which was bad.
On the other hand, the girl was obviously brave enough to ask him out in person. This already signified a vast improvement over a secret admirers or a shy, stammering school-girl. Replacing the letter in his pocket, he decided to meet the girl in person. Bravery should be rewarded, to a certain extent. And if she did not make a total fool of herself in front of him, then he would turn her down nicely too...
