@)~~~~
Sesshoumaru's Personal Software Engineer. That's what the title read. Inuyasha's eyes scanned the golden print and wondered if his brother had hated him so much to pay for the extra engraving. After all, just Company Software Engineer would have been fine. Or Inuyasha. Oh, while we're at it, why not Chew Toy For Humanity. That's a good one. Or Everyone's Bitch seemed a fitting title for what he had become. Indeed it had.
Inuyasha felt the familiar drugged sensation of having a miserable job overcome him. Not only did he work with his brother, he lived with his brother, and his brother lived with his father, ensuring the entire family set up to be just like high school again. He wanted to curl up into a ball under his oak desk in his private room connected to Sesshoumaru's (which ensured easy access for Sesshoumaru to come running in after suffering from menstrual pain—Inuyasha was sure that was the only cause of moodswings—and beat the crap out of his younger brother) main office and bawl in the most childish feminine way he knew possible.
And what did the drag queen do 9 to 5 on the weekdays? Practice law, of course. As if it wasn't obvious.
Sesshoumaru also had one of those nice offices people climb thirty stories to just look at. It had a wonderful city view and more rooms than he actually used and everything looked like it came out of The Practice or some exaggerated show of the sort. Inuyasha's suicidal side realized thirty stories was a nice height to get a view of Tokyo rappelling through his vision as he met with a merciful death.
He actually considered it and measured the size of the brick he would have to chuck to completely shatter the glass.
His musings were interrupted by Sesshoumaru, who hadn't realized his younger brother had converted his standard mouse icon into a spinning starfish and was screaming bloody murder about "aquatic viruses" of the sort.
@)~~~~
Mrs. Higurashi had grown up following the Way of Martha Stewart. She always added chicory to her coffee to bring out the flavor. When complete strangers passed her house, they were drawn to it, not because of the 1950's American architecture that accompanied a traditional Shinto shrine, but because of the gooseberry pies on her windowsill. Souta wore galoshes and Kagome's room was pink.
Mrs. Higurashi never understood why her daughter was so eager to move out and why Souta always came home drenched from the rain.
And now she couldn't understand what Kagome meant by "baby" and "no father necessary, just add semen—and biomedical engineering" Honestly, the way children spoke these days....
"And so, Mom, you'll have grandkids before you know it!"
"That's wonderful, dear. Who's the young man and when can I meet him?"
"Mom, we went over this, see, there is no young man."
Mrs. Higurashi's heart stopped. The scandal. What would the neighbors say after they found out when they saw Kagome come for a visit with a bulging stomach and no father to hold the baby supplies? What would Souta do? Go out and impregnate someone? Would a sudden motorcycle crash, never mind the fact that the boy was only 12, cause him to leave the unwed mother of his children lost, alone, pregnant, all because---
"KAGOME!!!" Mrs. Higurashi shrieked-wailed.
"Oh, it's okay Sango. I think she finally heard me. We don't need to mail a diagram," her daughter's voice calmly said on the other line.
"Oh, my baby girl! Is it because of Hojo? Is it because your father has gone and left this Earth? Is it because your grandfather always narrated the spiritual history of household lint until you were thirteen and he was hit on the head with a flowerpot? Men are not a curse, my child!" Mrs. Higurashi's bob artistically flew back in the wind as she rushed to grab the gooseberry pie from the sill while maintaining a dramatic monologue, "Go, go and do it the proper way—after marriage, of course—and the see the physical fulfillment of having a child!"
Her Kagome's voice was silent on the other end for a few minutes.
"Mom...ew."
"But why, my baby girl? Why?!"
"Mom...," Kagome hesitated, "Mommy...I want a child. It's this wordless calling that lies within the pit of my being that always beckons me, convinces me of the true happiness I'll have with a copy of my own to honor my memory...and no heartbreak involved, because I'll love him or her with my very being."
Mrs. Higurashi's eyes brimmed with tears.
"But if you'd at least let me make a few phone calls to some nice men, I know...oh Kagome, semen alone won't make you hap--"
"MOM!!"
@)~~~~ "How'd Mrs. H take it, Kagome?" Sango asked, having given up on the womanly formalities that came with addressing other people's moms.
"She's still crying, she thinks I'm a lesbian, and her pie burned."
"Oh...so, no home cooked meals for you."
"No. But I'm still doing this. Let's go."
@)~~~~
"Oh look at this one, Sango. 25, blonde, green-eyed, drives a motorcycle, in public relations, enjoys long walks and controversial literature, and has a dog. How sweet!" Kagome cooed.
"...and not allowed in the district of Kyoto. Besides, he's eight years younger than you." Sango finished.
Kagome realized this was the 125th name she had gone through and the majority of men seemed to have done this because "there's plenty more where this came from." She felt ready to cry. Then she remembered her dream child, the swans, and baby booties.
"I will NEVER give up, Sango!"
"Great, because I've got a pedicure in fifteen minutes and I'm sure you'll have no problem finding your anonymous other half."
"Leave it to me Sango! In nine months, you'll be an Aunty Sango!"
"Oh joy of joys."
Kagome continued her search.
"Blue eyes, freckles—how the hell are these people Japanese, dammit?!" Patience is a virtue, but not Kagome's.
"BAH!" She cried and looked at the last available listing of donors. It was a little ways away from most and had the words 'SPECIAL' and 'FOR CERTAIN SPECIES ONLY' written all over it, but that hardly mattered. Details, she thought.
"Hmm...Initials: IY, Birthday—hey! Only four years older than me! Hobbies: computers, action movies—ohmigod! I love action movies!—the piano—a piano! How elite!—yachting, surfing, SCUBA diving—wow! A rich boy!—martial arts, reading, community service at a dog pound—awww!—and children." The last one caused tears to flow from Kagome's tired eyes and she decided at last.
"Today's your lucky day IY! Today's the day you become the father of my children!"
Sesshoumaru's Personal Software Engineer. That's what the title read. Inuyasha's eyes scanned the golden print and wondered if his brother had hated him so much to pay for the extra engraving. After all, just Company Software Engineer would have been fine. Or Inuyasha. Oh, while we're at it, why not Chew Toy For Humanity. That's a good one. Or Everyone's Bitch seemed a fitting title for what he had become. Indeed it had.
Inuyasha felt the familiar drugged sensation of having a miserable job overcome him. Not only did he work with his brother, he lived with his brother, and his brother lived with his father, ensuring the entire family set up to be just like high school again. He wanted to curl up into a ball under his oak desk in his private room connected to Sesshoumaru's (which ensured easy access for Sesshoumaru to come running in after suffering from menstrual pain—Inuyasha was sure that was the only cause of moodswings—and beat the crap out of his younger brother) main office and bawl in the most childish feminine way he knew possible.
And what did the drag queen do 9 to 5 on the weekdays? Practice law, of course. As if it wasn't obvious.
Sesshoumaru also had one of those nice offices people climb thirty stories to just look at. It had a wonderful city view and more rooms than he actually used and everything looked like it came out of The Practice or some exaggerated show of the sort. Inuyasha's suicidal side realized thirty stories was a nice height to get a view of Tokyo rappelling through his vision as he met with a merciful death.
He actually considered it and measured the size of the brick he would have to chuck to completely shatter the glass.
His musings were interrupted by Sesshoumaru, who hadn't realized his younger brother had converted his standard mouse icon into a spinning starfish and was screaming bloody murder about "aquatic viruses" of the sort.
@)~~~~
Mrs. Higurashi had grown up following the Way of Martha Stewart. She always added chicory to her coffee to bring out the flavor. When complete strangers passed her house, they were drawn to it, not because of the 1950's American architecture that accompanied a traditional Shinto shrine, but because of the gooseberry pies on her windowsill. Souta wore galoshes and Kagome's room was pink.
Mrs. Higurashi never understood why her daughter was so eager to move out and why Souta always came home drenched from the rain.
And now she couldn't understand what Kagome meant by "baby" and "no father necessary, just add semen—and biomedical engineering" Honestly, the way children spoke these days....
"And so, Mom, you'll have grandkids before you know it!"
"That's wonderful, dear. Who's the young man and when can I meet him?"
"Mom, we went over this, see, there is no young man."
Mrs. Higurashi's heart stopped. The scandal. What would the neighbors say after they found out when they saw Kagome come for a visit with a bulging stomach and no father to hold the baby supplies? What would Souta do? Go out and impregnate someone? Would a sudden motorcycle crash, never mind the fact that the boy was only 12, cause him to leave the unwed mother of his children lost, alone, pregnant, all because---
"KAGOME!!!" Mrs. Higurashi shrieked-wailed.
"Oh, it's okay Sango. I think she finally heard me. We don't need to mail a diagram," her daughter's voice calmly said on the other line.
"Oh, my baby girl! Is it because of Hojo? Is it because your father has gone and left this Earth? Is it because your grandfather always narrated the spiritual history of household lint until you were thirteen and he was hit on the head with a flowerpot? Men are not a curse, my child!" Mrs. Higurashi's bob artistically flew back in the wind as she rushed to grab the gooseberry pie from the sill while maintaining a dramatic monologue, "Go, go and do it the proper way—after marriage, of course—and the see the physical fulfillment of having a child!"
Her Kagome's voice was silent on the other end for a few minutes.
"Mom...ew."
"But why, my baby girl? Why?!"
"Mom...," Kagome hesitated, "Mommy...I want a child. It's this wordless calling that lies within the pit of my being that always beckons me, convinces me of the true happiness I'll have with a copy of my own to honor my memory...and no heartbreak involved, because I'll love him or her with my very being."
Mrs. Higurashi's eyes brimmed with tears.
"But if you'd at least let me make a few phone calls to some nice men, I know...oh Kagome, semen alone won't make you hap--"
"MOM!!"
@)~~~~ "How'd Mrs. H take it, Kagome?" Sango asked, having given up on the womanly formalities that came with addressing other people's moms.
"She's still crying, she thinks I'm a lesbian, and her pie burned."
"Oh...so, no home cooked meals for you."
"No. But I'm still doing this. Let's go."
@)~~~~
"Oh look at this one, Sango. 25, blonde, green-eyed, drives a motorcycle, in public relations, enjoys long walks and controversial literature, and has a dog. How sweet!" Kagome cooed.
"...and not allowed in the district of Kyoto. Besides, he's eight years younger than you." Sango finished.
Kagome realized this was the 125th name she had gone through and the majority of men seemed to have done this because "there's plenty more where this came from." She felt ready to cry. Then she remembered her dream child, the swans, and baby booties.
"I will NEVER give up, Sango!"
"Great, because I've got a pedicure in fifteen minutes and I'm sure you'll have no problem finding your anonymous other half."
"Leave it to me Sango! In nine months, you'll be an Aunty Sango!"
"Oh joy of joys."
Kagome continued her search.
"Blue eyes, freckles—how the hell are these people Japanese, dammit?!" Patience is a virtue, but not Kagome's.
"BAH!" She cried and looked at the last available listing of donors. It was a little ways away from most and had the words 'SPECIAL' and 'FOR CERTAIN SPECIES ONLY' written all over it, but that hardly mattered. Details, she thought.
"Hmm...Initials: IY, Birthday—hey! Only four years older than me! Hobbies: computers, action movies—ohmigod! I love action movies!—the piano—a piano! How elite!—yachting, surfing, SCUBA diving—wow! A rich boy!—martial arts, reading, community service at a dog pound—awww!—and children." The last one caused tears to flow from Kagome's tired eyes and she decided at last.
"Today's your lucky day IY! Today's the day you become the father of my children!"