A/N: Heh…my brain is...yeah, well, the stupid creativity department went crazy, my imagination's been running wild…and this -- thing -- is what I came up with…
But I like my random silly pointless story plots! They're interesting! To me, at least…
Disclaimer: I do not own Inu-Yasha. Inu-Yasha belongs to Takahashi Rumiko. I do not own Post-It Notes. Post-It Notes belong to Art Fry. I do not own any of the existing brand names mentioned in this chapter or in other chapters to follow after. I am in no way affiliated with the aforementioned parties. I am writing this strictly for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any money from this and intend no copyright infringement.
That, I think, will be an adequate disclaimer for the rest of the story. Don't you?
Pairings: Miroku/Sango
Warnings: If you don't like the pairing (and I don't see why you wouldn't), stay away! The rest is normal stuff, you know...read what it says below.
Rated: PG-13 for the usual – groping, mild language, innuendo, etc…
Company Monk
By CocaCola43
One – I Met You Twice And I Hate You Still
Miroku
It was another day of…it. It was horrible, disgusting, mocking, derogatory. It was also very, very hard to get rid of.
It was unemployment.
Miroku sighed and flipped through the classical ads. There were a few people in Kyoto who needed someone to take care of their dog…but being with animals wasn't Miroku's type of job. He wasn't that type of person. In fact, he was an animal himself.
All humans were animals. And he was a human.
Duh.
He turned the page, carefully scrutinizing the tiny print for anything promising. Bathing an old woman? No. Too wrinkled. Keeping house for a busy family? No. Too dirty. Being a clerk in a lingerie store? No. Too –
Wait.
His fingers, stained and dirtied with newspaper ink, reached subconsciously for the pair of scissors he'd prepared for his ad-cutting hours ago. His eyes never left the heavenly words: Seeking clerk for Mai's Lingerie. Must be able to take measures and do simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Friendly personality and sense of humor needed.
Miroku could take measures. He could do simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. He had a friendly personality, and his acquaintances were always commenting about his unusual sense of humor. He fit the requirements exactly – perhaps he even exceeded them.
And as an added bonus, he could work with women. Young, beautiful, buxom women. He'd win them over with his friendly personality and sense of humor, he knew it. Smiling to himself, he cut out the ad, copying down the listed phone number and address on his new pad of yellow Post-It Notes.
He was going to get dressed, get on the subway, and go talk to the manager of Mai's Lingerie personally.
Sango
She was happy, to say the least. Her younger brother had just been accepted into a prestigious high school. What reason had she to be unhappy? None at all, for Sango loved her brother as dearly as she would a son. Kohaku was, in fact, a mixture of brother and son. Their mother had passed away years ago due to an accident – the details were hazy – and since then Sango had become her brother's best friend, and vice versa.
It was the day after they'd received the news of Kohaku being accepted into Kouzoku High, and she was going to accompany him to go have a look around the campus. They were going by the subway, of course – how else were they supposed to get there? Their family didn't own a car, and their father only had his motorcycle. It was only natural that she, a college graduate, would help her little brother on the same path to glory she'd taken.
Of course, she reflected sardonically, her eyes fixed at the blank TV screen in front of her, her path hadn't necessarily been one of glory. She'd received a Bachelor's Degree in Accounting at Hisui Rindou University, and where was she now? Almost twenty-two, boyfriend-less, broke, and – this was the killer – unemployed. Everything else was fixed forever until she got a job. Well, not her age, but her pathetic love life, her poverty…
A crash from down the hall awakened her from The Daily Wallowing in Self-Pity Thingy Ritual. A curse followed, and she suspected that her brother was struggling to put his socks on. It always went like this. Poor Kohaku's feet just grew way too quickly. Last night, a size 7 – this morning, a size 8 ½. It was enough to make one's head hurt.
"Hurry up, Kohaku, we don't have all day," she called. "The campus will be closing in an hour, and it takes fifteen minutes to get there on the subway."
"I'm – trying – ane-ue!" her brother grunted, hopping on one foot into the living room. The sock was stuck on his left foot at an odd angle. "I can't get this on!"
"Then don't wear socks at all," Sango suggested.
Kohaku paused, his youthful mind now enlightened with the powerful words of his elder sister. "Oh yeah," he said in awe, brown eyes wide. His mouth curved into a sheepish smile. "I forgot." He tugged off the sock and tossed it to one side. "Let's go!"
With a sigh, Sango left the house, Kohaku at her heels. They now had forty minutes. Who knew that time could pass so quickly?
Miroku
He was waiting in line. Again. He had bad experiences with lines. The last time he'd been in one this long, he'd been fired. Apparently his boss thought he was moving too slowly.
Miroku's violet eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. Was there no escape? Was he doomed to stand here, waiting, forever?
Ah, but the line was moving much quicker now. Soon he was at the front – he had his tickets – yes, he could board the subway. He would be getting off at the Kouzoku High Stop; Mai's Lingerie was near it. Thank you, have a nice day, you too.
He stepped into the crowded subway and squeezed himself into a hair's breadth of space between an old man and the pole. Two people – one a boy, one an older girl – were standing in front of him. The girl was holding a cup of coffee in her hand, chatting animatedly. Miroku struggled to catch what she was saying –
"And so when school starts, be sure to be extra polite to everyone, but not too polite because then they're think you're a pushover – yes, I know you already are one, but try to act tougher, Kohaku – and be nice to the teachers, do exactly what they say unless it's horribly unreasonable. Okay?" The girl's dark brown eyes glinted with some sort of determination. She liked her brother very much; that was obvious.
He found himself staring at the girl's rear end. Well-developed – but she couldn't have been less than twenty years old, so she was over-age. The tips of her brownish black ponytail swished gently – oh, all right, so her hair wasn't that healthy, but still, she did have a nice ass – and it brushed against her elbows.
Miroku was staring. Involuntarily, his hand floated up to touch it – it couldn't be real, she couldn't have such a perfect – oh, but it was real, and it felt –
Painful. The girl had just spun around and smacked him with an open palm. Her cup of coffee slipped from her hand and it spilled all over him. Ow.
"I'm sorry!" he half-howled, his eyes screwed up from the burning pain. "I didn't mean to – ow!"
The girl huffed angrily and hit him again. She was about to hit him a third time when the younger boy at her side tugged at her arm and said, "Ane-ue, can you please not hit him anymore? People are staring…"
And it was true. Everyone in their compartment was staring, wide-eyed, blue-, green-, brown-, hazel-eyed, gazing interestedly at them.
The subway slowed to a complete stop, and the doors slid open with a satisfying 'whoosh' of air. Everyone stepped out, gossiping and talking amongst themselves as if nothing had happened. Miroku stood up to leave, apologizing profusely, his short ponytail waggling slightly whenever he shook his head or nodded.
The girl and her little brother left, walking in the opposite direction of where Miroku was headed. He sighed sadly. And she was pretty cute, too…
Miroku checked his badly drawn map of the city and sighed. He'd be better off taking a cab, these lines were useless. He didn't know one thing from another. Walking up the steps into the bright sunshine, he spotted some taxi drivers relaxing in the shade of a palm tree.
"Hey! Uh…could you drive me to Mai's Lingerie?" he called.
The four taxi drivers glanced over at him. One snickered. "Sure," he replied. "What're you going to do there?"
Miroku stood up straight and tall, his eyes filled with a fierce pride. "I'm going to buy a bra for my loved one." So it was a lie. So what?
"I'll take you," a braided man said loudly. "I was getting bored anyway, it won't be that much trouble." He stepped into his car, waiting for Miroku to do the same, and the engine revved. "You'll be there in seconds," he assured his passenger. "I drive fast."
Seconds later, the car skidded to a halt. Miroku clutched his heart and ordered himself to breath deeply…he was still alive…
"Thank you," he said, once he'd calmed down. "Here you go – your money –"
The braided man looked pleased, and he drove away with a smile. Miroku entered the shop and looked around tentatively. It was…lacy. White. Pink. Red. Blue. Black. Green. Gold. Silver. Purple.
It was a rainbow of colors!
He marched up to a surprised looking cashier. Obviously there hadn't been a male in this store for ages – perhaps there never had been. "I'd like to speak to your manager," he announced.
"Wha? What did I do?"
"Nothing, I'd like to speak to your manager," he repeated, his voice rising.
"Uh…okay." The cashier wound a strand of hair around a finger and picked up a phone. "Izayuki-sama…some guy wants to talk to you…Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yup. Uh-huh. Excuse me," she said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand and leaning toward Miroku. "What do you wanna see her for?"
"I'm going to apply for the position of clerk," he said firmly.
"Clerk," the cashier sighed into the receiver. "Yup. Yes. Okay." She hung up. "She'll see you in five minutes. She's busy right now. In the meantime," the cashier gestured listlessly toward the heaping piles of lingerie, "make yourself comfortable."
Miroku nodded, hurried over to a display window, and began inspecting the mannequins' rear ends. Nice, but nowhere NEAR as great at the girl on the subway's had been. How sad that they would never meet again…
"Hey, you."
Miroku turned around, attracted by the sound of the voice. "Yeah?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.
"I'm the manager, stupid." The old woman sighed and shook a finger at him. "You wanted the job?"
"Oh – oh, yeah," Miroku said, now understanding.
"You got it," she grumbled. "I need a clerk, and bad. You know what to do already, right?"
"Yes – yes, I suppose so," Miroku said innocently.
"So get to work."
Sango
Kohaku was running all over the place. It was impossible trying to stop him. Any form of restraint would go awry. The poor silly boy was sobbing about grades, homework, and evil teachers. Comforting him was no use either – she had been trying for the last half-hour, and nothing worked.
"Kohaku," she coaxed, "do you want an ice cream?"
Kohaku sniffled and nodded, hanging from the limbs of a tree.
"Well, then, you'll just have to come down and buy one yourself."
Kohaku let go of the tree and obediently walked over to the ice cream vendor.
Sango sighed. She was feeling bored…she wanted to shop. Where was a good place to shop?
I need some new underclothes…
"Kohaku, I'm going shopping. Can you stay here all by yourself for an hour or two?"
The boy nodded, licking his vanilla ice cream.
Miroku
Being a clerk was boring. But he was being paid! He was going to earn money! And he got to talk to hot young women!
That is, if any of them decided to walk through this door.
He prayed to Buddha. Please –
The doorbell rang, and someone walked in. Miroku opened his eyes and spotted the young girl. His prayer was answered.
But wait. This was the girl from the subway. His blood ran cold. What if –
"Oh, our new clerk, Miroku, would be glad to help you," the cashier said happily. A customer!
The girl nodded and walked over to him. She slowed down, though, and little by little her eyes became round…
"You!" she said furiously.
"Uh…me," Miroku responded, trying to smile bravely. "So, uh…what are you looking for? Mai's Lingerie has the best bargains on everything, from brassieres to under –"
"I'll kill you!" the girl snarled. Her hands were clenched into fists, her mahogany eyes crackling with energy. She was a sight to behold.
"Now, don't you think you're taking things a bit too harshly?" Miroku asked amiably.
His only reply was an animalistic growl.
"So," he continued, feeling a sort of empty confidence that was really depressing, "er…what's your bra size?"
The girl lunged, aimed for his throat. He dodged the attack, and she was sent hurtling into a heap of cotton underwear. "I'm so sorry for the incident on the subway," he said – was he talking to himself now? – "And I hope we can be friends."
This, clearly, was the wrong thing to say. The girl stared at Miroku as if he were crazy and chuckled. Even that sounded menacing.
"Friends?" she growled. "You – GROPED – me – you VIOLATED my – you –"
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I shall repeat this until you understand that it was an accident, and we will pretend we've never seen each other ever before."
He hoped that was soon.
Because he really didn't want to die young.
A/N: So how'd you like it? Next chapter, they get a little…more…acquainted…I guess you could call it that.
Review!