SERIOUSLY EDITED
Well, this was originally a joint fanfiction, until I dicovered that they don't really work out. So, it is now only my fanfiction, as I'mnot getting any help from my two friends to work on it, and I'm the only one writing it.
This was originally going to be a spin-off of Daredevil, but I decided that it was too much of a hassle to try and follow that story line, and it would be much better--and more original--if I just did something of my own. So, instead of what it was originally (if you didn't read the original "crap", that's a good thing), I'm going to tweak Inuyasha's "hanyou" characteristics a bit and leave it at that.
The flashback originally at the beginning is now gone. Sorry, but it was stupid and has nothing to do with the plot I have now. So, onwards!
Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and Daredevil belongs to… uh… the people at Hollywood, but NOT us! So don't sue us… all you'll get is my computer, and you're NOT getting it! GRRR! Then you won't get new chapters… heh heh… cackle
Prowler of the Night
Chapter One: Ex-Fiance
By: Kaji-chan
She gazed at him silently across the table, question lingering in her eyes. "Is there... something you wanted to tell me?" she prodded softly, her tone cautious.
He did not return her gaze, staring off at the couple residing beside them, not answering her question. His eyes were sullen, almost tired, and his chin rested heavily in his palm. She swallowed, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. She knew why he was here.
"I know..." she began, leaning forward across the table and reaching out a hand to touch his. He shrugged his hand away. She covered her stress well. "I know that this was all a bit unexpected..."
He turned his eyes to hers.
She drew in a slow, hesitant breath as she drew her hand away from his, her expression pained by his rejection. "It's just..." He met her gaze intently, almost hopefully, as she continued. "It was a... spur of the moment."
The certitude in his eyes faded to be replaced with a shallow, uncaring glare. "Spur of the moment?" he repeated.
She looked away from him, averting her eyes to her lap. "I didn't mean for you to find out that---"
"You didn't mean for me to find out...?" he repeated again, cutting her off. She bit her lip. "You didn't... mean..." His eyebrows drew low above already narrowed eyes. "You didn't mean for me to find out! Of course I would find out!" he said, raising his voice.
She bowed her head as he raised his voice, eyes from other tables falling upon them.
"I don't understand how you would go behind my back like that! Of course I would find out! Did you plan to keep it from me? Would that be your little secret?"
The resturaunt was growing silent as he brought attention to them, and she began to panic, ushering him to quiet down. "Inuyasha... you're making a scene..."
"I'm making scene!" he mimicked, standing from his chair and slamming his hand on the table. "Oh, I'll show you 'making a scene'!"
The entire resturaunt was watching them now. She began to shift uncomfortably in her seat, bowing her head away from searching eyes.
"After all this time, that you could betray me like that!" he continued, his eyes flashing furiously. "It makes me sick!"
It seemed that her well-controlled appearence was slipping, as her hands tightly clenched her purse tightly. Her lips thinned, accented by her line of red lipstick, and she glared down into her lap.
He glowered at her, his hand fisted against the table. "And to think... that I would have loved someone like you, Kikyou..."
She stood abruptly, her own chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed backwards. "Don't act like I tricked you into loving me! You did that on your own! It's not my fault that you--"
"Oh!" he interrupted, "Not MY fault, huh? Is it MY fault that you cheated on me behind my back!"
"That's MY business!" she yelled back, her own voice loosing control as she battled his feiry eyes with her own burning ones. "I can see whomever I choose to!"
"NOT when you're with me!" he roared, his rage overtaking him. His entire body shook, and his eyes trembled with fury.
Kikyou watched him with cold eyes, her knuckles white as she gripped her purse, her lips quivering. "Maybe I'm tired of you being so possessive! I need some space in my life!"
"I'm possessive! You're the one who clings to me! I have to go everywhere with you! Shopping, driving, tanning, to get your fucking hair cut...! Maybe I want some time to myself for a change!"
She was quiet, her anger so overwhelming that she couldn't find words to express it. How dare he. She drew in a short, shaking breath and slammed her purse down onto the table, holding up the back of her hand to his face. "Do you see this, Inuyasha?" she said, her voice so low and cold that it could have been a hiss. "This is our relationship!" With a strong glare and sudden flash of hatred, she snatched the ring off of her finger and threw it at his face.
His eyes widened, his reaction too slow and shocked to catch the ring, the silver band bouncing off his chest and dropping to roll precarously on the floor. Grabbing her purse, she slung it over her shoulder and sent one last, hateful glare at his shocked expression. "It's over," she said, turning on her heel and stalking out the door.
His dress shoes clunked on the stony pavement as he made his way through the darkly shadowed alleyway. The man's gaze averted to the side to gaze into a dirty puddle, watching the fierce but calm purple eyes that stared back up at him. It was an amazing, almost pathetic thought, how such a sullied, murky corridor could be home to so many of his memories; so much of his life…
Scoffing at the reflection in the clouded pool of water, he trudged through it, the muddy rainwater sloshing over his new shoes and splattering over the dirty passage floor. What was he doing here anyway? He was supposed to be preparing for a trial at the moment, a very crucial one, actually. Unfortunately he'd just wasted away his precious prepping time being dumped by his newly acquired fiance.
Two years, they had been in a relationship. Two years. He had never trusted anyone in his life. Hell, he still didn't trust anyone. But she had certainly been the first to come closest to gaining his trust. They had been fairly good acquaintences for a while, and it seemed to be in their best interest to make it something more.
They had never really progressed much, as such made Inuyasha uncomfortable and Kikyou was far too reserved for such. Or, at least, he had thought that she was...
Ironic... the way he had come about to realize how wrong that assumption was.
They weren't very open with each other, but he enjoyed her company. It wasn't long before he even began to feel more than enjoying her company. He realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And that's when he had proposed to her.
It was a bit awkward for him, but it was the perfect moment. It was just after they had come back from her cousin's wedding, and they were sitting at a table off to the side during the reception. They had shared a few dances--not really Inuyasha's best moments--and had a few glasses of champagne, and he felt, that in their good spirit, it would be the perfect opportunity to present to her the ring that he had bought a few weeks before.
He took her hand, in which she had returned the touch with a confused, almost wary look, and he knelt down before her. Her eyes instantly lit up with recognition, and she raised a hand to cover her parted lips. The words were slow and slurred with embarrassment, but he was finally able to push past his cowardice and ask her. He remembered the long stretch of silence, or what seemed like so, when his heart clenched and his breath stopped.
But she had smiled, nodding her head slowly and wrapping his hand in hers with a small blush. It was the happiest moment of his life.
Unfortunately, it seemed to be the beginning of the worst moments of his life. Their relationship suddenly began to take a turn for the worst. Their dinners were quiet and awkward, and visits to the movies were weighed down with common boredom and loss of what to do. Now that they had reached the height of their relationship, it seemed that they were both unsure of where to go next.
They didn't talk about the wedding much, and had continuously avoided the subject. He had busied himself with work, and she with hers. It almost got to the point where they barely saw each other every day. That was when he found out.
Maybe it was just because he had put so much forth into his relationship with her. Maybe because he wasted too much of his energy on her every day. Maybe because he cared for her so much. Maybe that's why it hit him so hard.
What did this other man have that he couldn't offer? He could have given her anything. It wasn't that she wouldn't ask him for things she wanted, but she certainly never told him what he didn't have that she needed. What he wasn't giving her that she had to find in another man.
A sigh fell upon his lips. Maybe it was inevitable. He had waited for her to confess to him. He knew, but he wanted her to come clean. He wanted to believe that she was sorry for what she had done... that she regretted leaving him behind.
But she never did.
When he hinted at it the other night during dinner, she must have finally understood. He knew. But still, she did not confess to him. So, with a terrible reluctance, he decided that he would bring it up to her himself, and force a confession from her.
Maybe he knew it would be the end of their relationship. Maybe he didn't. He didn't know what to think anymore. He kicked an old, stray coke can, knocking it across the stretch of the dimmed alleyway. Not wanting to stay in the gloomy place, he quickened his pace towards the dim light ahead, coming out into the sun once again. Sighing in relief, he reluctantly made his way down to the office, hands casually stored in his coat pocket.
For some reason, however, he didn't feel like walking. He paused, turning to the street corner and making to raise his hand to call a taxi.
As if he had been smacked in the head with a brick, his eyes snapped open and he dug his hand in his pocket for his wallet, opening it with a surprising vengeance. "Damn…" he whispered to himself when he found that the insides were disappointingly bare, "I'm out of money."
Turning around, he strolled down the sidewalk towards the bank, squeezing through the crowds of people. He deeply despised crowds; more like people in general. His expression contorted into that of disgust as he made his way down the sidewalk towards his looming destination, unconsciously quickening his pace. He had this strange pet peeve for moronic people, and they tended to concentrate in crowded places.
Unfortunately, for him anyways, the bank was in the thick of the city, where everyone usually was, shopping with family, eating with new acquaintances, hanging out with friends, etcetera. At least his office was closer to the quainter side of San Francisco, where he could get a decent amount of peace and quiet once and a while. But, on the flip side, a lawyer needed an adequate amount of silence in order to properly prepare for principal cases; like the one he was supposed to be preparing for at the moment, but lazily refused not to.
The white marble of the bank came into sight, and he pushed his way towards the tall, elegant building that was currently the stock house of the money he was seeking. Trudging up a painstakingly long flight of steps, he finally reached the top, ducking into the cool, air conditioned building in a mad escape from the hot sun burning down on his delicate skin. Sighing and wiping his brow, he made his way to the front desk, where a cheerful young woman around the age of 19 greeted him. "Good morning, sir." she said in a cheerful tone. "What can I do for you?"
He brushed an annoying strand of his long hair out of his face and pulled out his wallet. "I'm here to withdraw some money from my account." he said, flipping through the folds of his wallet for his driver's license.
The woman smiled and accepted the laminated card he produced from the brown, folded piece of leather and studied it, hurriedly typing away at her computer. "Ah…" she said triumphantly, looking back from the screen to the card. "Mister… um…?" Hurriedly, she added, "Gosh, I'm sorry, but how do you pronounce your…?"
He nodded and took the card back, placing it back in the leather wallet and stuffing it back in his back pocket. "Inuyasha Kinzake." Inuyasha didn't miss the strange look she held when he repeated his Japanese middle name before she covered it with expert skill. It wasn't his fault in any case; his mother had chosen his name anyway. He was always touchy about his Japanese heritage.
"How much would you like to withdraw, Mr. Kinzake?" she asked, leaning forward a bit to hear him better.
'Mr. Kinzake' smiled half-heartedly. "$600, please…" he replied, quickly glancing at her nametag, "…Yura." He smirked when she visibly frowned at her own outlandish name. Seemed they both had Japanese parents who insisted on dumping strange names on them from the 16th century. Who uses the stupid name 'Inuyasha' these days, anyway?
She forcibly smiled at him and tucked her short black hair behind her ear. "Sure thing." Yura smiled at him again, this time proficiently masking her irritation, and began to type on her computer again, printing out a piece of paper and ripping it from the printer with practiced ease. "Here you are, Mr. Kinzake. Insert this into the ATM over there and you should get your money with no problem." she said, handing him the piece of paper.
He nodded and took the piece of paper. "Thanks." he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the machine.
After about 20 minutes later, Inuyasha exited the bank with a frown and a piece of paper crumpled in his fist. "Damn ATM machines…" he growled, throwing it in a nearby trashcan and kicking it with retribution, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from passerby's. He stuffed his now heavier wallet back into his pocket and stormed down the marble steps and away from the cursed bank.
He marched down towards the edge of the street and waved a hand in the air. A few seconds after, a taxi screeched to a halt next to him, obscuring his vision temporarily with yellow. He opened the door and stepped in, shutting it behind him and looking towards the driver. "Manchester Street."
The driver nodded and stepped on the gas. "Yes, sir."
Miroku paced the room with fervor, holding a folder in his now white knuckles as his secretary watched with wary eyes. "WHERE IS HE!" he bellowed, flinging open the file and rummaging through the papers inside of it.
"Si-sir… do you… want some co-coffee?" his assistant stuttered in a high-pitched voice, shrinking back from her laptop and reaching for the coffee pot.
The man's furious face slowly calmed and he turned to the blonde-haired assistant with a practiced, charming smile. "No thank you, Koharu."
Her nervous expression faded into a smile and she scooted away from the coffee pot in her rolling chair, kicking her feet idly as she went back to sorting the files on his desk. "Okay, Mr. Ofuda."
Miroku's hand twitched at its resting place at his side, itching to reposition itself near the woman across from him. "Koharu, would you be a doll and go and run copies of these files for me?"
Koharu stood up, her finely sculpted chest displayed by her tight, red shirt, allowing Miroku a few seconds to discreetly observe her exposed cleavage before turning to do his favor. "Sure, Mr. Ofuda." She stood, oblivious to the sexual harrassment, and made her way to the copier in the back room.
His secretary rolled her eyes as the blonde exited the room before turned back to her computer. "Miroku," she said, talking casually to her familiar boss, "you want me to print out your e-mail's so you can read them on the way to the courtroom?"
Miroku rubbed his skull. "Yes, that would be great, Taki, thank you."
Sighing despondently for a second, Miroku shook his head in an attempt to force away the oncoming headache. Almost immediately, he began to stomp around the office, impatiently waiting for the arrival of his partner. "Damnit! Where the hell are you!"
As if on cue, Inuyasha strolled in through the door, a coffee mug in hand and newspaper tucked under the other, wearing his usual business suit. His usual good-afternoon-smirk seemed to be missing, though. "I'm back."
"Back!" he fumed, almost tearing the manila folder in half. "You were supposed to be 'back' fourty-five minutes ago! We have a trial in two hours! How the hell are we supposed to prepare!" he yelled, throwing the copy of papers his assistant had handed him a mere second ago over his shoulder, taking no notice of Koharu's surprised squeak as the papers were flung into the air and fluttered down to the already messy floor around the angry man.
Inuyasha rolled his eyes and passed him with a nonchalant expression, handing Miroku a portfolio packed with files and a neat report on top of it. "I typed it up last night. You can read over the introduction for proof reading if you want, monk." he said, carefully stepping over Koharu, who was currently scurrying along the floor picking up the dropped papers.
The said monk slanted his friend a raised eyebrow. "I told you that I'm not training to become a priest anymore, Inuyasha."
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Miroku sighed, opening the folder and beginning to scan its contents.
"Hey, Miroku! Where did you put those papers I gave to you yesterday?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Papers...?" Miroku repeated. His expression was thoughtful, and he lifted a finger to his chin. "Papers...?" he said again. Inuyasha noted that he didn't look any closer to a revalation.
"The PAPERS, Miroku, I handed them to you yesterday before I left! Where did you put them!" he yelled, itching to hit him on the head.
He snapped his fingers. "Oh! I put them on your desk!" he said, smiling triumphantly. They both turned to stare at the mess of papers cluttering his desk. "Well... somewhere on your desk..."
Taki sighed and took the coffee mug from Inuyasha's hands as he passed her, making her way over to the table with the coffee pot on it.
The monk blinked, realizing that he should have taken up Koharu's offer for some caffiene. Miroku smiled, grabbing his coffee mug and holding it out to Taki. "May I have some as well?" he inquired, but she didn't seem to notice the outstretched coffee cup.
Mixing in cream and sugar to the blackened liquid with a plastic spoon, Taki turned to the silver-haired man, saying, "Inuyasha—"
"Haven't I told you to call me Kinzake?" he cut in with a pointed glare.
Taki pursed her lips, sending a withering glare towards Miroku. "He was the one who keeps telling me to call you by your first name." She said, pointing to the black-haired man who stood behind her, still holding out his cup.
"Miroku…" Inuyasha hissed, fixing Miroku with a glare as well.
"What…? She's been working here for two years; I think she should be allowed the privaledge of calling you by your first name..." He was met by a harsh glare. Sighing, he turned away and shook his head. "Am I always the one at fault…?" he mumbled dejectedly, moving his cup up and down in front of Taki.
"Yes." Taki and Inuyasha answered simultaneously.
Miroku heaved another deep sigh and continued to shake his head, muttering and finally pouring a cup of coffee for himself into his custom made mug, reading 'Women Obsessed' all over it in bright red lettering.
"Fine, then. You have my permission to call me Inuyasha." he said gruffly, returning to his work.
Taki threw a hand over her heart and her other hand to her forehead in mock disbelief, a beautiful ray of sunlight sweeping over her form from above. "You mean…" she mimicked in a blissful tone, "I have… the heavenly privilege?"
"Shut up." Inuyasha replied in an annoyed tone. "It's too early in the morning."
Taki handed the now steaming mug to him, smiling. "It's the afternoon, Mr. Inuyasha…"
"Just Inuyasha, thanks. Adding the mister at the beginning makes me sound old." he said, taking a deep drink of his coffee as he rifted through the mound of papers on his desk. He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Wait... I don't look old, do I?"
Miroku sighed and sat down in the chair across from Inuyasha, deciding to aid him in sifting through the stack of papers, laying their court evidence on the desk. He didn't notice the glare Inuaysha sent him upon his lack of reply. "You know Inuyasha, as of now, three people can officially call you by your first name."
"Is that so?" he asked, not bothering to look up as he returned to his work.
"Yes, actually." Miroku continued, holding up a hand and ticking off the people on his fingers. "There's Sango—"
"She never leaves us alone… printing those goddamned stories about urban legends and publishing classified information about our cases." Inuyasha growled, sending Miroku a glare. "You give your girlfriend too many privileges, do you know that?"
He didn't seem to hear him; that, or he chose to ignore him. "…Taki…"
"I'm so flattered!" she answered sarcastically, earning a glare from Inuyasha. "What? Would you rather me sing? I will have to warn you that my singing is not a beautiful as my voice, and I only know the Barney spin-off of 'Joy To The World'."
Miroku hummed the familiar tune, sporting sadistic grin. "We barbecued his head…"
"Please don't..." Inuyasha muttered, frowning at his empty coffee cup. He pushed off his desk, rolling on his chair towards the coffee table, frowning again as he realized that there wasn't any cream. "Blast..." he mumbled, scooting back over to his desk with an empty mug.
"Anyway, as I was saying..." he continued, brushing off Inuyasha's comment, "There's Sango, Taki, and me. Well, you did let Kikyou call you 'Inuyasha'. You know, I haven't seen her around, lately. She used to come by every day. Is she visiting her family or something?"
The file-sifting man paused from his task and snorted. "No." The two people in the room gave him blank looks. Shoving a few papers into his desk drawer and then brusquely slamming it closed, he added to his short reply, "She's just… busy."
"What would she be busy with? She's a clothing designer. Unless she's--" Miroku was cut off with an irritated clonk on the head from Inuyasha.
"It's not anything like that!" he said indignantly as Miroku rubbed the lump atop his head. "She's just got important things to do."
Taki looked up from her computer where she was typing rapidly only seconds ago. "About Kikyou…" she paused for a second before continuing, "She was nice and all, but she just seemed so… so…"
"Reserved?" Miroku interjected.
"No," Taki retorted with a glare, casting a worried look towards Inuyasha, surprised to see him filing papers on his bookshelf wearing an unreadable expression. "How should I put it? I don't think there's really a word to describe her…"
"Obsessed with matching colors?" Miroku queried.
Taki sent another glare his direction, pointing towards Inuyasha's turned back, giving him a look that otherwise stated 'are you a moron or something?' With a huff, Taki stood up and pulled a considerably bulky book off of the bookshelf, tucking it under her arm and sighing resentfully. Koharu watched quietly, blinking and staying out of the conversation with good reason. "No!" she growled, not bothering to keep the hint of annoyance out of her tone. "She was just—"
"Weird?"
About a second later, a rather large, red, two pound Encyclopedia of Law came flying across the room, planting itself square in the man's face and knocking him clear off his chair onto the floor with a wordless thump. About four feet away, an angry secretary's eyes were closed, her eyebrow twitching angrily. Sighing and standing upright, Taki straightened her clothes and walked back over to her desk, roughly shoving a manila folder into one of the file cabinets and returning to her work. "It's unbelievable how inconsiderate he can be. Doesn't take a hint, that man…" she muttered under her breath.
Inuyasha slowly stood, his expression hidden beneath his bangs as he made his way to the front of the office, not bothering to step over Miroku--who was currently sprawled on the floor--and walked through the door, muttering something incoherant about creamer.
Taki sent a glare Miroku's directon. "Now look what you've done! If Sango-chan was here I swear I would make her… uh…." she paused, "…I'd make her…" Unable to think of what type of cruel and unusual punishment her boss/friend could receive from his girlfriend, Taki trailed off, a confused look momentarily overtaking her features, before exploding at him again. "Go apologize!"
He stood up and looked questioningly at her, a large red mark indented into his face and footprint on his shirt. "What for?" he asked offhandedly, distracted by the dirty print on his shirt, dusting it off with a frown.
She irritably stood, grabbed hold of his shirtsleeve, and led him to the door. Reaching out, she twisted the handle and opened the door, pointing after Inuyasha's retreating figure on the sidewalk. When he gave her a strange look, she gave him a helpful shove out the door; he turned, opening his mouth to preach his honest innocence, to meet a closed door. Sighing from the other side of the door, Taki walked back to her desk and set back to work, harmoniously humming the familiar Barney homicide song.
Koharu blinked.
"Did I miss something?"
Finished chapter one. You like it? Yes? No? I moved the scene that was originally at the end of this chapter to the beginning of next chapter, so I hope you like it.
Chapter Two: Ramen and Sundresses
