Chapter Sixteen — Stairs
Mamori had praised her organizational and leadership skills to the point Kagome's ego actually inflated just a bit.
(You had to be organized when trvaelling to and fro the Sengoku Jidai.)
And then today the older girl had begged for her help for the Devil Bats' next club event.
Which was how her dumbass had ended up helping the Deimon Devil Bats.
Again.
(Really bitch?)
The miko could practically hear Sesshōmaru's disapproving scoff, Kōga's bemused tongue click, and Shippo's thunderous laughter. Kagome didn't know how she was pulled into these things but it needed to stop. It wasn't like she couldn't say no but she also felt guilty if she did. Did that make her a pushover in the yokai's eyes? Yes, yes it did. But it wasn't like she could say no to them—they annoyed her and forced her to do it anyways.
But when it came to doing things for others?
Kagome, you're such a pushover grow a spine.
Asshole. The entire lot of them. All traitors.
(Why couldn't she have normal friends?)
And then, to add salt to her gaping wound, Hiruma had quite literally materialized out of nowhere—Kagome almost gouged his eye out reflexively—and told her to meet him at the top with the snow cone machine before disappearing back into his crypt—the elevator—with Kurita in tow.
Mamori had fumed on her behalf, quite sweet on the older girl's part, and Kagome was half tempted to ignore the pushy quarterback's demands.
Especially since the fucker had closed down the elevator after he rode it all the way up.
(The ass.)
She could here literal death reverberating inside the cage-like inside of Tokyo tower.
"Fuck it. I use to climb stairs every fucking day."
(And broke half a dozen shoes walking across Japan.)