Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha… I do not own Inuyasha… I do not—I LOVE YOU, INUYASHA! Gosh, why must life be so cruel to me? Well, at least I own the plot. (HAHA, SUCK ON THAT!)
A/N: WARNING: SOME BAD LANGUAGE! This chapter doesn't into much of their plans; it's more about Kagome's life and what she technically does every day. Trust me; it's important! You'll see!
Summary: Higurashi Kagome's older sister, Kikyou, dumps her boyfriend Takahashi Inuyasha once he decides to go study business and all that good stuff in an American college. When he returns, he sets out to win her heart and get back what they had. Despite his persistence, however, Kikyou is frozen, for he kind of sucks when it comes to romancing women. Kagome, being the kind butterfly she is and also remembering the times she spent with Inuyasha (and Kikyou), decides to help Inuyasha win Kikyou's heart, giving him hints on love and things. But things begin to backfire when Kagome finds herself slowly falling in love with the man who's infatuated with her sister. Will Kagome stick to her promise of helping him, or will she back out, ignore him/possibly try to win his affections? As their mission progresses and the steps become more clear, will Inuyasha realize that maybe Kikyou isn't worth it, and what he's wanted all along has been standing in the sidelines all these years...?
CURIOUS OF HOW KAGOME'S SCHOOL WORKS? GO TO imtc. gatech. edu/ i-irasshai/ 2/ 207/ 207a01/ 207a01. htm (WITHOUT THE SPACES) AND THERE SHOULD BE AT THE VERY TOP OF THE PAGE YOUR TYPICAL, WEEKLY JAPANESE HIGH SCHOOL SCHEDULE.
Adam's Needle:
A Friend in Need.
HOW TO LOSE THE BEST THING THAT EVER CAME TO YOU
Step 2: Begin Making a Plan to Win Said Girl's Heart
"When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him
by asking if there is anything you can do.
Think up something appropriate and do it."
—Edgar Watson Howe
"Kagome?" a soft, unsure voice called from outside her bedroom door. "Can I come in?" Once she replied, Inuyasha walked in, looking nervous as he scratched his neck and looked around. "You know, I never really have understood why you got a bigger room than Kikyou."
Kagome's eyes narrowed. He was avoiding something. She knew it. "Well, I was more active than she was when we were younger," she explained, still suspicious. "I did more projects, thus got the bigger room. Trust me, it'll probably change if Kikyou goes to university to major in a course with a ton of projects, like art or fashion." Fashion, most likely, knowing her sister.
Inuyasha nodded solidly, avoiding her eyes. "So, wench… Uh…"
"Yes?" Kagome pressed, raising a brow. She pushed her homework aside on the table as she burned a glare his way. "Do you need something, Inuyasha?"
"Feh!" he growled, irritated at the demanding tone she was using. But then he unexpectedly sighed as his eyes got anxious again. "Our one-year anniversary's coming up, and I don't know what the fuck to do," he confessed, rubbing his face stressfully. Kagome realized this was right: she'd recently turned fifteen, so yes, their anniversary would be close, wouldn't it? "I was wondering… Could you, maybe, I don't know… Make suggestions on what I should exactly do?"
Kagome blinked. Then stared. Then blinked again. "Um, sure. Is that all?"
"Keh, yeah, that was all," he insisted. Inuyasha must've been embarrassed, having to come ask for help from a girl, much less his girlfriend's little sister. "I'll come by later and get 'em, all right?" Kagome nodded firmly, and turned to resume her work. But as Inuyasha stepped out of her room, she could've sworn he'd uttered an undistinguishable "Thanks."
—~*~—~*~—~*~—
Beep… Beep… Bee—
Slap. Ugh. I sit up on my bed, look at the sunlight streaming through my window, and grimace. Morning. I stumbled out of my sheets, landing on the floor with a thud and thump. I groan, trying to wipe the gunk off my eyes as I get ready for the dreaded we humans call "high school".
Last night, after signing the imaginary devil's contract, Inuyasha took me home (on his back, of course). We made plans to meet up at his favorite coffee shop—Java the Hut—after my shift at the flower shop oh-so-cleverly named "Miss Petal's Floristry". Unfortunately for me, that means I have to go to work right after school, stay there until six, then go to the café to discuss all things romance with Inuyasha—using the excuse of hanging out with Sango—before heading home an hour later to do my homework and all that good stuff. Honestly, kids aren't supposed to have as many responsibilities as me. Japanese high schoolers had two hours worth of homework every night and most of them don't have a job to go to. They also don't have an old friend trying to win their sister's heart, but that's a different story.
I tug out my school uniform from the closest and throw it on. Unlike my middle school one, this outfit isn't green and orange, but blue and gray. I brush through my hair, scarf down my cereal, and brush my teeth with ferocity. I'm trying to hurry with everything before I hear that darned horn go off, warning me that I only have five minutes—
Beep-beep, beep-beep-beep-beep! Beep. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Blast it all. I slip on my shoes, grab my backpack, and yell into the house, "I'm leaving! Remember, I'll be back from Sango's around seven!" Not waiting for a response, I dart down the shrine steps to see my worries confirmed: instead of Miroku's less embarrassing, purple Toyota Corolla, Sango's coral motorcycle with a cart is running impatiently on the street. The source of the dreaded sound? Miroku's infamous blow horn that he always carries in the morning when Sango and him come to pick me up for school. My friends, for some odd reason, do not trust me with getting up in the morning. They just won't catch on that those times were back in middle school.
Without even greeting them, I hop on behind Sango, putting on my green—and mismatching—helmet before wrapping my arms around her torso for security purposes. Then she speeds off, Miroku doing a stupid whee! as we zoom down the road. Though he's nineteen, the guy's a lot more childish than I was ten years ago. Sango sighs at his weirdness, yet we both know she secretly loves it. Being a third year, Sango got her license for motorcycling two years ago. Being in his first year of college, Miroku got his driver's license last year. Being myself, I was personally too lazy to get a license of any sort and have been mooching off my friends the last two years for rides to school. Yes, I can walk, but what's better than showing up to school with an older, tomboy student and a college weirdo?
"SO," Sango says pretty loudly so she can be heard over the wind. It's not as great as riding on Inuyasha's back, but cycling does make me feel as free as a bird, too. "I CALLED YOU LAST NIGHT TO SEE IF YOU WANTED TO HANG OUT SATURDAY WITH ME AND MIROKU, BUT KIKYOU PICKED UP AND SAID YOU JUST LEFT TO GO TO MY HOUSE! THING IS, YOU WEREN'T AT MY HOUSE!"
Whoops. Busted? "SORRY!" I yelled back. "I WAS SNEAKING OUT! I NEEDED AN EXCUSE!" And I'm not about to tell her or Miroku any time soon why an excuse was needed.
"WHY?" Miroku asks. Sigh. I'm not responding to that. Catching my expression, he says instead, "ARE YOU GONNA HANG OUT WITH US IN A FEW DAYS OR WHAT?"
"WHERE DID YOU GUYS WANNA GO?" I inquire. Today's the last Wednesday of August; not even a few days ago, we'd gotten off our summer break to return to the school year. Which, by the way, is why I've been kind of off about doing my homework.
"ARCADE, ARCADE, ARCADE—"
"SHUT UP, MIROKU!" Sango screams, almost swerving into another lane. She's not the best of drivers—thank the gods she doesn't have a car—but we still risk our lives every day to ride with her. We usually take Miroku's car, but it must be in the shop today because here we are on Sango's girly motorcycle, Sango and I sharing the main vehicle while Miroku sits in its cart due to his wandering hands. Besides, I personally think it's funny to see a grown teen sitting in a tight, pink space, don't you?
"THE ARCADE WOULD BE NICE," I agree as Sango makes a sharp turn.
Miroku whoops. Sango rolls her eyes, and he feigns offense underneath his purple helmet. Yes, my friends and I have issues. Sango's favorite color is coral, mine is green, and Miroku's is purple. But they're healthy obsessions, I'm sure of it. "SANGO, MY LOVE, DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST OUR BELOVED BUILDING OF GAMES?"
Only he could nickname an arcade something so formal.
"NOT AT ALL. YOU'RE JUST TOO MUCH OF A KID," she tells him, smirking. I glance between my best friends, wondering why they must flirt at every moment, yet never make any moves. Really. It's been like this ever since we first met in elementary school, when I was in fourth grade, Sango in fifth, and Miroku in sixth. I was exiting school when I came across a girl hitting one of our school's monks with a giant boomerang, and I found out later that the monk was a pervert and the girl was a demon-slaying tomboy. It's obvious that through Miroku's persistence and Sango's resistance that the two like each other, but won't admit it to even themselves. Denial runs deeper than the Nile, people.
"SANGO!" Miroku purposely whines, and I chuckle. Just then, school comes into sight, and I sigh. "IS SOMETHING WRONG, LADY KAGOME?" he asks just too formally.
His monk-talk is too much for me. "NO," I say, taking in the building, when I feel tired again. Gosh, this place just holds too many memories. Not exactly my own, but Inuyasha and Kikyou's as well. They went to the same school and had the same class, but never noticed each other until we had my fourteenth birthday party nearby the school. I had to wait for Kikyou that day, for her to escort me to the little festivity. I remember seeing Inuyasha exit the building, and asking him if he'd seen her. He said he didn't even know her, but he'd help. When we did find her, I invited him to my party as a way of showing my gratitude. Instead of just becoming my sort-of friend, he'd gone out with Kikyou a few days later.
Hoorah.
Sango stops her motorcycle, and I hop off, storing my helmet in the trunk of the cart. Miroku gets out and takes the seat as Sango gets off. Of course, the lecher uses the opportunity to feel her up, which she does not enjoy. After a good thump to the head, he speeds off to the university. Later, when school's over, he'll be back to pick us up so that Sango can drive them home and me to work. It's odd how Sango won't trust Miroku to sit next to her, but she'll let him use her precious baby while she's in school.
We go our separate ways. I go to the lockers and trade out my street shoes for the girls' pink slippers before walking to homeroom with my rucksack in tow. I'm in Class A of the second year; it's for the smartest students, whereas Class B is for the second best, Class C is for average studiers, Class D is for those who're less fortunate, and Class F is for the kids who aren't the brightest. I take my usual seat in the middle of the room, where the Terrible Trio automatically appear. Putting on a smile, I greet, "Hey, Yuka-chan, Eri-chan, Ayumi-chan." Chan, chan, chan. I'm so glad Sango and Miroku told me not to use honorifics on them.
They all grin back and launch into what happened since school got out yesterday. I pretend to listen, though my mind's wandering off to Inuyasha again. I still can't believe it—after two years, he's come back to Japan. Yes, it was for Kikyou, not me—I didn't expect it to be—but I honestly thought I'd never see him again. I'd thought he'd return to Japan after finishing his schooling so he could take over his father's company. Yet, shockingly, all his hard, B-positive work over the years weren't enough to help him pass his second year of university. I wonder what he'll do now that he won't really be able to own Takahashi, Inc. He'd told me not to worry about it last night when I'd asked, but it still bothers me, not being sure of whether or not he can get a stable, working job.
Satou-sensei comes in to give his lesson on Social Studies. After that, we have Geology with Tanaka-sensei. Once she leaves the room, Watanabe-sensei decides to fry our brains out with English. I don't get the foreign language; it confuses me greatly, and Watanabe-sensei's voice is quick and unclear. He makes it harder for me, a student in the top twenty, to learn a secondary tongue. I realize Inuyasha must know how to speak English since he was in America, so maybe I could ask him later on to help me with my homework—
Ugh. There I go again. Thinking about the half-demon yearning for my sister's heart. How bizarre.
I'm saved when English ends and it's finally the students' turn to move to another quarter. Schools in Japan are like elementary schools in America, or so I've heard; the students stay in one room while the teachers move in and out. But when it comes to Physical Education—which is my next class—or others like science courses, we have to be the ones to move out of our homeroom and into the designated area.
After dressing into our gym uniforms, we race outside to play whatever Itou-sensei has in store for us. A girl's assigned outfit is made up of a pair of blue bloomers that's far from her belly buttons and rise high from her thighs, and a thin, short-sleeved t-shirt with a circular collar. You can choose whether or not to tuck your shirt into your bloomers; most of my classmates don't, but I differ, afraid that I'll fall and my shirt will somehow magically fly off.
You just never know.
Today, we play volleyball, just like Monday and Tuesday. It must be an all-week thing. Once we've cleaned up and gathered our things, it's lunchtime. Most students eat in homeroom with their friends and have homemade meals; Sango and I, however, got permission a long time ago to leave school for the lunch period to eat at the nearest WacDonald's with Miroku, who doesn't have any classes at this time of day. I meet her outside the school, and we jog over to the fast food restaurant where Miroku's already ordered our usual meals and saved us our usual booth—because we've eaten here so often that they think something's wrong when we don't show up. It's because for the last two years, ever since I entered high school, I've eaten here for lunch, having my WacNuggets and WacFlurry while we all talk for about twenty minutes. Then Sango and I have to run back to school while Miroku speeds off to his next class. It's much nicer than it sounds; it really is.
We slide into our window booth, and I immediately swallow half of my meal. Sango cringes as Miroku shakes his head. "Shouldn't you act more like a lady?" he asks solemnly. I shrug before stuffing my mouth with a spoonful of Oreo goodness. Mm-mm. He sighs, "My dearest Sango. How has your day gone so far?"
She waves off the question. "Fine," she mutters when Miroku gives her a pleading, puppy-dog look. He brightens at her response since she usually ignores simple questions like that. "I'm going to cycling practice instead of volleyball, softball, or soccer." Did I mention that even though everyone at our school has one or no afterschool activities, she has four? Usually she has volleyball on Wednesdays and cycling on Fridays, so she's probably beyond happy that we get to spend another afternoon together. "Hear that, Kagome? I'm going to be your senpai today."
"Yay," I gurgle through my ketchup-drenched WacNugget.
Sango exhales, annoyed. "Since Kagome's stuffing herself silly—"
Miroku cuts her off, catching on and adding, "And will gain an excessive amount of weight—"
Oh, gods. They've done this before: shoving the whole Kagome, you said you wanted to lose weight, so why are you not trying? thing down my throat. Well, if it helped any, I ran a lot every day, cycled for an hour and a half, and did unnecessary studying. What more do they want?
After seeing my probably confused look, Sango explains again, just like any other day, "When people eat quickly, they tend to overstuff themselves. Their stomach can't handle too much at once because it's possible that it won't even be able to keep track of what's enough or if it's full. You need to go slow, take small bites, okay?" I glower her way, but slow down the pace slightly. "See? Don't you feel healthier, more, I don't know, less packed?"
"I never felt packed," I reply darkly, dipping a WacNugget in a swamp of ketchup before popping it into my mouth. For Sango and Miroku's obvious benefit, I chew it slowly, like a snail, before taking gradual swallows. "Happy?" I question once my mouth's food-free.
"Yes, actually," Sango grunts, turning back to Miroku, who, honestly, for our own safety, is sitting across from us. "The last thing I want to have before I graduate is see my best friend explode from WacDonald's overload."
Miroku gawks at her. "Does that mean you'd go on a date with me?"
Houshi Miroku. He's always on topic.
"Okay," Sango says blankly. "So maybe I lied. Kagome, you'll have to explode first before I ever even think about liking Miroku that way."
"SANGO!" we both yell, groaning at how she just won't fess up (and me being upset that she would rather have me die before she goes on a date with him). Miroku at least tries to get his feelings across, though his womanizing kind of makes that impossible. But Sango refuses to budge. This weekend, when we go to the arcade, I'm going to give her a yelling-at. Really. I'm kind of getting anxious and tired of watching the tension between them all the time. I don't like my friends butting into my life, but in cases like these, I like to butt into my friends' lives.
As they banter some more, I finish my WacNuggets—slowly, because of these nut jobs—and empty my WacFlurry cup. Sango's done with her Big Wac by this time and only needs to take a few more sips out of her Coke. Then we have exactly four minutes to go back to school, when it takes three to fast-walk there.
Guess who'd better hurry up?
Seeing my glare, she quickly drinks her soda and throws her stuff away. We wave bye to Miroku, who's hopping onto Sango's motorcycle to rush off to his next class. Last I heard, he was majoring in religion or philosophy—I wouldn't know. The guy changes his courses so much I'm curious as to whether he'll graduate in three years or not.
My next class is Home Economics with Nakamura-sensei. This used to mean sewing and cooking for girls and technical stuff like repairs and wiring cables for boys, though they changed it this year. Even though Souta's experimenting enough as it is with our home appliances and trying to fix things, Mama suggested that I should take the technology class since she already taught me how to sew and cook. I don't hate Tech. Home Economics, but it sure isn't fun being in a class with mostly boys where I get shocked by electrical wires weekly.
When I step through the door, I'm pounced on the one and only Yamainu Ayame. She's a tomboy like Sango, but she isn't sporty; she loves technology and getting her hands dirty. She works with me at the flower shop, though you wouldn't really expect it from a girl like her. Since we were two of the very few girls who joined this class, they took her out of Class C for this period. "KAGOME-CHAN!" she yells louder than necessary as she squeezes the air out of me.
"Aya…me… Can't…breathe…"
"Whoops," she says, letting go of me. A guilty look appears across her face for a moment before she goes into I'm going to play innocent mode. "Sorry. It's just that, well…"
"We got new equipment today, didn't we?" I deadpan, raising an eyebrow.
She groans and buries her face in her already greased hands. "I can't help it, Kagome-chan."Ayame, unlike Sango and Miroku, does not have a pact with me that says "do not use honorifics". I jokingly comfort her by patting her back. "Ugh, Nakamura-sensei better not let that klutz Nobunaga touch my pretties, or else I'll kill—"
I give her a look that makes her cut herself off. Nakamura-sensei, for some reason, cannot handle jokes like that. You'd think he would and have some sort of brain trauma from electrocution that made him a loony tune, but he's more strict and professional than anything else.
And, yes, I did shock myself with the wires again. Sigh. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Art's my last actual class on Wednesday, since classes vary for each weekday. Students choose which type of art they want to specialize in, and stick to it. I wanted to do watercolor because of its easiness, but was encouraged to do pottery by Jii-chan so I could make pots for his useless sutras and whatnot. We go Class Meeting next, which is like homeroom, except we don't take attendance and talk about anything special about the current day. Class Meeting is for things about tomorrow and some unimportant stuff, like if a classmate won a prize or if a broom's gone missing. Yamamoto-sensei reads off your usual things, though apparently there's a few new teacher students and the cycling tournament has been moved from Sunday to Saturday. I remind myself to go over that with my best friends, though I should probably talk to Sango first to make sure she got the same announcement.
Then I have cycling practice. This includes me, my faithful green bike, and ninety minutes. After changing into my gym uniform, I hop on my bicycle and begin pedaling like crazy. I only have to train for an hour and a half until most clubs end and I can return to school to clean myself up. The wind beats against my face less forcefully than when I'm on Inuyasha's back or even Sango's motorcycle, for that matter, but the cool air is sweat relief for my burning muscles. After half an hour, I'm already sweating, but I don't stop. The sidewalks are pretty empty during this time of day due to people being in work or at school—thank gods for the suburbs—so us cyclists don't have to worry about running into a pedestrian. I ride alongside Sango, my senpai and one of the best cyclists on the team. I honestly joined because it's healthy for me and I'm good at it; Sango joined because she has an obvious obsession with cycles of any kind. We would talk during this, but you need to save your breaths for when you actually need them.
I sweat, but it's okay, because I'll be in the showers sooner than you'll know it. And because of our endurance training, I only start getting really tired when it hits seventy-five minutes on the clock. There's fifteen minutes left of practice, so Sango and I head back to school. When our watches' alarm still hasn't gone off, we ride around the building a few times with a few other girls. Once a single beep goes off, everyone's immediately off their bicycles and on the ground, panting and trying to relax. Sango and I use the last of our energy to enter the locker rooms, where we undress and shower. Like usual, we both sit under the water, trying to catch our breath. When we're back to normal, we begin to talk. Topic of discussion: upcoming tournament.
"They changed it again," Sango breathes, finally washing herself off. I nod in agreement and begin rising out my sweat-coated raven locks. "It'll be in the morning, like usual. Maybe Miroku, you, and I could go to the arcade around noon and head home around six?" I nod again, my throat still not returning to normal enough to use verbal communication.
Once that's all over, Miroku picks us up and Sango drops me off at Miss Petal's Floristry. I fare them well and trot inside to where Kaede and Ayame are. Ayame's in the flower arrangement club—the lucky duck—so she doesn't meet every day like us athletes do. My first ninety minutes of work are based off of going around the shop, cleaning and talking to customers. Ayame's first task is filling out orders. Kaede always answers the phone and register when she's at the shop, though. I recommend flowers to curious customers and give them some flower definitions. Once my ninety minutes are done with, my last job is to fill out orders. Kaede hands me some orders to do, and I get really into them as I pop in this flower and that one into multiple vases. Finally, at six o'clock, it's time for me to go to Sango's.
Err, to Java the Hut, I mean.
"Bye, Kaede-bachan, Ayame-chan!" I shout, waving at them before running out the store. I'm kind of tired from all of today's commotion—when am I not?—so the thought of doing even more, whether it involves an old friend or not, makes me groan. I look down at my hands, which are still kind of red, limb, and cut from all of the hands-on activities I've done: writing notes in almost every class, messing with wires in Home Economics, playing volleyball in Gym, sculpting my latest ceramic work, gripping the bike handles a little too hard during practice, and not to mention arranging some thorny and scratchy flowers at the shop. Who knows what else makes them look so tired and worn. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that all this work has somehow rubbed off my fingerprints.
After running a few blocks, I thrash open the door to Java the Hut, and stagger over to the booth from yesterday. Inuyasha's already there, and he looks at me bewildered, probably taking in my wind-blown hair and tired stance. I slide into the seat across from him, take out a notepad, and pant, "I'll… I'll focus on this… right now. You just… order for me."
His eyes narrow in suspicion, but when the waitress comes by, he asks for a water and one chocolate milk. Since he already has his darned black coffee, he must've ordered an extra drink for me. I thank him silently as I begin to scribble on the sheet.
THE PLAN
I show it to him. He blinks, and bites down his lip to hide his amusement. "You sure have gotten far," he tells me wisely, sipping his coffee. Like expected, he scrunches up his face, but sucks it up.
I nod, not being able to speak. Then I jot down a few ideas and hand the paper over. He skims, and I see the emotions flicker through his eyes: realization, concurrence, disagreement. "When do you think we should make this 'first move'?"
After taking a sip of the water the waitress just sat down, I exhale. "Not right away," I tell him. "Kikyou will expect you to come running back to her in the next few days. That's what guys always do: have a sudden appearance, spend the next week or two never leaving them alone, and so on."
He furrows his brows in confusion. "And we shouldn't do that?"
I shake my head. "Women like men who're full with surprises. If you follow the usual guidelines, then you won't grab her attention again."
"Then what do we do?" he asks, not seeming to like this idea. He wrinkles his nose to confirm my theory and his golden orbs smolder down at the notebook in what must be disgust.
I smile at his actions. Well, at least I know Inuyasha hasn't lost any of his stubbornness or untrusting nature. If he's always been cautious, even around Kikyou, I wouldn't have expected it to change. "Well, have you settled back into Tokyo?" I question.
"Feh, of course I have," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm going to live at the Takahashi mansion with my folks, Rin, and Fluffy. I've had some job interviews, too, so don't you dare lecture me on that either!"
I sigh. Something has him on the edge. "Inuyasha," I murmur. "If there was something bothering you, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
"Keh" is all he says to that. I continue to stare at him with a pleading look. "Fine. I'm not getting any of my father's damned company, okay? I can't even fucking work there because Fluffy won't hire me."
"I'm sorry." Poor Inuyasha. Kicked out of school, and then he can't even work at his own family's business. "Well, right now, just focus on the good stuff. Let me work on making the plan, all right? It'll be less stress on you." Yep. And more on me.
His honey pools are a little wary on that idea, but he agrees anyway. "Whatever, wench." He grabs his business jacket. "Meet me here Friday at the same time," he demands, whipping the suit's coat over his shoulder and grabbing onto his Styrofoam coffee cup. "By then, you'd better have more writing on that page." If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought he'd been threatening me. But since he's just having a rough time and is kind of impatient, I understand he means no harm.
I grin and nod before sipping some milk and getting back to work. As I write, my hands cramping quickly, I notice he hasn't left. I look up at him, baffled. "What?"
"Keh, I'm driving you home," he insists, grabbing my water before stalking to the door. I stare after him, even more perplexed than before until his words finally digest. I gather my things and head after him, the boy who I know so well yet am not his friend. I'll just be that little girl in his memories, won't I? I'm not mature and elegant as Kikyou or chirpy and sociable as the other girls in high school. I just fly through my days, everything turning into a routine that never breaks. Why should someone like Inuyasha—rebellious, hotheaded, Inuyasha—want a girl like that as a friend, unless they wanted something from them? Why would he even want me as a friend?
I remember how when I first saw him, I didn't think sister's boyfriend or possible brother-in-law. I recall seeing his face and thinking, That's someone I can trust. He looks like he could be my friend. Nothing along the lines of Kikyou popped into my head until we went to go look for her. I also remember those moments when he'd come into my room—now Kikyou's—and ask for love advice on her. I gaze at his silver hair swaying behind him as he escorts me to his cherry-red Ferrari Convertible, and feel another small smile tug at my lips.
Just like old times, huh, Inuyasha?
A/N: I have the feeling this chapter kind of sucked. -.- Ah, well. Tell me in the reviews whether or not you like the story, and if I suck at it thus far—YOUR REVIEWS DECIDE WHETHER OR NOT THIS LIVES ON! Review, review, review!