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Writing on the Wall

Chapter 7: Sleeping Dogs

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Inuyasha believes in ghosts.

Pretty hard not to when one's talking right at him.

He doesn't tell Miroku, though he knows he probably should. Maybe it's because he's honestly still struggling to wrap his head around it himself. Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit that his superstitious friend was right for a change (though this whole experience has made him question if perhaps he has been right a few other times too). In his defense, he doesn't tell anyone else either. The neighborhood already thinks he's batshit crazy for buying the place, the last thing he needs is to stir up more rumors.

Some (most) people would pack up and leave, but Inuyasha is nothing if not stubborn. Growing up with nothing taught him early on to sink his claws into whatever he's got, and he sure as hell isn't going to let a potential goldmine go just because a ghost happens to pop in every now and then. At least he's got someone to blame when shit goes missing.

Grunting, he moves one of the slabs of drywall into place. The lower panels have already been installed, and he's only got a few more sheets waiting in the living room. Once he mud and tapes the bastards he'll have a wall instead of the molded, crumbling mess the roof leak had left him with. Then he can finally build his fucking cabinets and get some god damn appliances. He's particularly looking forward to having a fridge so he can enjoy a cold beer at the end of the day instead of choking down warm piss water. He reaches for the drill he left on the top step of his footstool, ready to secure the sheet of drywall to the studs, but his hand closes around air.

He growls, ready to throw something. It's been a long day and he's on a timeline damn it. He's got to get this shit done before his vacation time runs out, and if he can't move in before his lease ends he's going to be pissed.

"Seriously!?" he snarls. The panel of sheet rock he just agonizingly put up is balancing on the lower sheet, but it isn't going to stay there without some god damn screws. "I thought we fucking talked about this!"

There's a squeak from the window over the sink – a message written through the layer of grime. 'You'll wake him.'

Inuyasha isn't sure who the hell 'him' is, but he has shit to do and he isn't in the mood for cryptic warnings. "What? Someone get cranky if they don't get some shut eye?" he sneers, looking around for a solution to his problem, growing more and more enraged when he can't find one. He lets out a growl of frustration, glaring into the empty air. "Give. It. Back."

Nothing answers him. Nothing moves. The lack of answer only makes him more furious, and he starts to take the damn piece of drywall down (cursing the entire time about ghosts not minding their own fucking business). When he finally gets it back on the floor, he turns – intending to grab his spare drill out of the bedroom he's been stashing his tools in – only to pause. On the wall are big, bold characters. His thick square pencil balances on the edge of the ladder beside it.

'NOT. AT. NIGHT.'

Inuyasha should say fuck it and grab the spare drill anyway, but something makes him hesitate. When he thinks about it, the only time his tools ever disappear are after the sun goes down… and only ever the ones that are particularly loud. His jaw tenses, eyeing the broken tip of the pencil – a result of being pressed too hard against the wall.

He turns the lights out and goes home without screwing in anymore drywall. Inuyasha still doesn't believe a lot of things, but he believes in ghosts.


AN: Sorry it's a bit tardy... it's been a rough day and honestly I sort of forgot. A couple people have asked so I just want to clarify that Inuyasha is human. Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review!

Word Count: 651