A/N: Reviews, more reviews. And one particularly interesting one, I may add. So! Responses, I suppose.

Magoleth: You think? It was kind of long and sort of rambling, I think. And, it isn't much fun for Inuyasha- the poor guy. I love him, and I love torturing him, too. Hehe. Love and hugs.

Pointy-Eared Archer: Mahaha. Long chapters. Well, this one's about eleven pages, and that's sort of long. Sort of. Sarcasm is what Inuyasha seems to live for, I suppose. That and torturing his poor, poor brother. I've never watched Fushigi Yugi, but I've heard of it. Anyway, the fan girlish squeal- well, that's Jakotsu for ya. Or at least Jakotsu as I portray him. I noticed that my Jakotsu is a bit more childish, more air headed than most other people's. I dunno why. So! That's all. P.S.: Well, whatever's closer, love. You know I can't bear to be separated from you for too long. Hahahahah.

Dragon Pearl1: Yeah. It's always extremes for the bastards. Mwaha. It's okay if you don't review, it's probably quite tedious to have to keep reviewing and reviewing and reviewing all the time, so it's fine! It's all good in da hood, yo.

((And this following one was my favorite one, by the way- it's kind of long, so if you wanna skip it and go straight to the chapter, go on ahead))

Numisma: I see where you get the bad impression on the constant use of slang and the colloquialism, but the intent is that it's written from the point of view from a teenage brat boy, and as such he's going to constantly use slang and be casual about things- if it were some sort of serious thing I was working on, I'd be conscious of that and write the tone a little different. But, as for now, it'll stay as it is. And, about Inuyasha and Kagome- of course they're not going to act like committed, normal people; they're only fifteen, sixteen at tops. They're doing what basically retarded people their age do, trying to be mature and committed about it but not really getting anywhere. They're childish; you can't be so mature at that age, and it takes more than a couple of years of growth to get to know each other that well.

Also keep in mind that, unlike most first-person narrators and main characters, I'm not trying to make anyone like him, and he's certainly not. It can't be read as flowery aestheticism, but more so as an account of events; he's not the sort to lie, and I've characterized him as I please, to be very blunt and very bitter in his demeanor. It's supposed to incorporate his changing over time, and I can't make him all flowers and sunshine at the very beginning, now.

Also, in response to the casualness of the fic- it's to get inside his head. He's a stupid teenage boy; he'll like to include tidbits and things about his life, as it gives a better insight as to who he is and what he does normally. And some of the pointless scraps are previews to what happens later, to indicate some sense of the later chapters, and some are more insights into the characters. I wouldn't know how to characterize them, because the manga/anime really isn't set in normal times; so I suppose the reason being for the more-than-slightly off characterization is that they live in modern times in this fic, and you can't exactly act like that in normal society and still be presentable.

I'm actually sort of pleased with the fact that I got a bad review- it's at least the truth.

>>>>>>

Chapter Twelve

Two-'o'-clock at night and the Good Ol' Sandman (who I have resolved to murder) still hadn't visited me. I turned on my side, staring into the bookshelves next to me. I felt disgusting- I hadn't brushed my teeth, for one thing, and for another thing, I was wearing Jakotsu's clothing. And if you can think of anything more torturing, you must be Jakotsu.

I sighed softly. Why the hell was I here? I asked myself that question one too many times lately, and I didn't like it. Was it a car accident? Or was it all my brother's fault? Did I bring it on myself? Or did that bastard Miroku cause what was presently happening.

And, from out of nowhere, a voice came, soft and gentle. "Inuyasha?"

I bit my lip. "What?" I asked, groggily, picking up the Magic 8 Ball and giving it a few random shakes.

"You wanna play…Twister?" Jakotsu asked, voice cracking.

I sat up and raised an eyebrow. "Twister," I repeated.

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, low. My guess was he was half-asleep, but you can't tread too lightly around potential rapist teenagers. I craned my neck to look at the bed, where he was back-facing me.

I glanced at the clock: 1:57 A.M., and counting. "It's 1:57, Jakotsu," I said. I added, "In the morning. Why do you wanna play Twister at 1:57 in the morning?"

"Sure," he replied. I blinked for a second and laid back down into the thin blanket he'd laid on the floor for lack of an in-one-piece sleeping bag, exhausted. I rolled over. The reason I couldn't go to sleep was because I could feel the fucking hard wood stabbing me. I would have rather slept on the couch- but, apparently, "Nana" thought her room was possessed by Beelzebub. I was beginning to see where Jakotsu got his genes from.

Casting aside the Twister offer, I settled myself down, when I started to hear tapping on the window.

I sat up again, this time letting out a primate-like growl of frustration. "Am I ever gonna get to sleep tonight?" I asked hopelessly. I rolled up the smaller blanket that I'd wrapped around myself and threw it at the window. Good. Goddamn birds. Teach them to mess with Inuyasha Miyazaki…

Oh Holy Father of Jesus Christ. I sound like my fucking brother.

Nonetheless, I figured I would get some sleep now- whether I was talking about myself in third-person or not. I laid back down and closed my eyes, closing myself off from the rest of the world.

…Until the tapping started again. This time I jolted up and threw a sandal at the window. "Keep it the fuck down!" I hissed, as if the stupid animal that just waltzed on up and decided to torture me could hear me. Actually, that was a good thought- why did God hate me so fiercely? The tapping stopped; I wondered about this new thought and closed my eyes. And the tapping came again, this time louder, more like knocking, more insistent.

I let out a threatening growl from the back of my throat. "Damn thing is really fuckin' irritating me," I said, resolving to stop the tapping once and for all. I fished my can of mace out of my jeans pocket and started towards the window, groggily.

I pulled back the white curtains and unfastened the latch. Jakotsu, surprisingly, for such an erratic, hyperactive lunatic, was a heavy sleeper. That was one good thing for me. I pulled up the windowpane, and choked back a scream as I was came upon a person, climbing up the side of the house, throwing some kind of rope at the window.

I didn't know how to react- hey, you'd be scared out of your wits, too. It could be a murderer! My mind whirled around. Jesus Christ! A murderer! Or a rapist! Oh God…what if it was some sort of serial killer? I clutched the glass of the window and froze up. I had to do something- but I couldn't! Shit! This guy had a rope, God knows what he'll do with it, Inuyasha Miyazaki you'd better fucking do something- before I got killed!

The guy was approaching; I didn't know what to do, until my fingers brushed against the can of mace. I grasped the can anxiously.

And like the speed of light, I was almost face-to-face with the murderer. He looked up. "Hey, you're not-"

"GO TO HELL, MURDERER SCUM!" I yelled, almost pissing in my own pants, and, like a blind idiot, held the can of mace to the side of the house and sprayed hard and fast.

"AHH! What the hell are you doing!" Murderer-Man asked, falling backwards and clawing desperately at his now-damaged eyes. I smirked as he fell back, long braid flying up against the force of gravity- wait. Braid. Where had I seen a braid before?

Jakotsu was now up, approaching the window and stopping behind me. He rubbed his eyes. "Yasha? Why're you up? Wha's with all the noise?"

My face fell. Shit. I just murdered that…that guy! With the braid! OH SHIT. I murdered someone. Oh Gawds…

He was now lying in a heap on the grass below, shouting profanities. "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU YOU'RE GONNA WISH YOU HADN'T BEEN BORN!"

Oh. My. God. "Hey! Keep it down, don't you people have some respect!" Jakotsu yelled out the window. He looked down, and saw the braided guy, tangled in rope, crying. "Hey…who's that, Yasha?" he asked, pointing.

I tried to reply but nothing came out. I was so gonna get sued for this…all of a sudden, Jakotsu's face lit up. "OH!" He laughed. "Baaaaannnnnkoooootttsssuuuu!" he called, waving. Now I remember- Bankotsu. The short guy who hated me. "Hi-hi!"

Bankotsu stopped shouting for a minute and lifted his head up. His eyes were fierce red and tears rolled down his cheeks. He forced a smile. "Jakotsu! Hey."

"Why're you crying?" Jakotsu asked. He chuckled. "Are you sad I couldn't whisk you on up here?"

"No!" Bankotsu protested. He rubbed his eyes. "Shit- Jakotsu?"

"Yuh-huh?" he answered. I blinked. Jakotsu was really dumb.

I heard Bankotsu cough a little bit. "My eyes- I can't see anything. Could you- uhm. Get me some ice or something?"

"Sure thing, handsome," Jakotsu called back, with a wink. He turned his attention towards me. "I'm gonna go get him ice," he said, matter-of-factly, like it was world knowledge, and rushed down the hall, bare feet tapping against the polished hardwood floor. I turned back to the spot where Bankotsu was now staggering up from the ground. I grimaced.

He looked up, and, apparently not liking what he saw, returned the whole-hearted frown. "What was that, moron!" he yelled up to the window.

"I should be askin' you that question!" I croaked, my voice hoarse from the yelling I did before. "What type of psycho climbs up someone's house in the middle of the frickin' night!"

"I do it all the time!" he shouted back. For some reason, he turned fierce red, I could see that under the bug light outside. Well, there's another person I can add to my list- me, Kouga Kurasama, and Bankotsu I-Don't-Know-What. "You wouldn't know, would you, you mutt-bag?" I winced. I could really kill this guy if I was where he was. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Feh. I'm sleeping over- what's to you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Nothin'."

"Well, that's something we can both agree on," I replied with a frown. He frowned back.

This was the start of a beautiful friendship, I realized, between Inuyasha Miyazaki and Bankotsu Something-Or-Other.

Jakotsu ran across the lawn in just his St. Midroko's lacrosse team t-shirt with a Ziploc bag filled with ice and dripping with water. "Here you go, Ban-chan!" he said, cheerily, kneeling down and putting the bag to Bankotsu's left eye.

Bankotsu put his hand over the Ziploc. "Ah, thank you, Jakotsu," he said.

"No problem," Jakotsu replied. "You're like really hot. I wouldn't want you damaged." He looked up to me, half-hanging out the window, hair rushing over my face in spite of the wind, and gestured for me to come down. I shook my head. He pouted. "Aw, c'mon, Yasha, come meet my bestest friend!"

"No thanks," I said, eyeing Bankotsu. "We've met before."

>>>>>>>

Despite my excuses, I had to go down, anyway- for boredom and for the fact that Jakotsu would not leave me alone if I didn't.

I sighed and marched down the stairs, lightly despite the mood I was in- an angry mood; a stomping mood. I mean, I didn't want Jakotsu's granny to get the wrong idea…I shuddered. Crazy Catholic old maids were the worst thing ever to deal with, especially crazy Catholic old maids who thought you were screwing their grandson.

Bankotsu and Jakotsu were already down there, with Jakotsu chattering about something inane and probably stupid while boiling coffee and Bankotsu was pressing the ice to his head, faking a smile. I folded my arms and sat down, sulkily, at the table.

"…I mean, isn't it just dee-lightful?" Jakotsu ranted on. He muttered a curse under his breath about "stupid boiling water" and got out some cups, sitting down next to Bankotsu and I. "Muh best friend," he said, smiling wicked, "and my boyfriend at one table together. Isn't that nice?"

"I'm NOT your boyfriend!" I exclaimed, maybe a little too loud- if that woman came into the kitchen armed with a crucifix and John Paul II's portrait, I'd be in for it.

Jakotsu rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but you have no say in this. So I'm right, you're wrong, deal with it." He smiled charmingly and kicked him under the table again. I suspected he would be forming some very ripe bruises in the morning- maybe that would prevent him from bloodying me up the way he liked.

"Feh. I'd sooner date Richard Gere than you," I grunted, distracting myself by turning to the window. I really was annoyed by Jakotsu, for one thing- I don't think I can ever stress it enough. There was just something about this guy that really, really didn't sit too well with me.

For a second thing, I sorta got the sense that maybe, just maybe, Bankotsu disliked me very much. It was this weird thing about him that he'd twitch whenever Jakotsu would say weird kissy-goo-goo shit to me. Well, he could shove that up his rear-end, because no way did I take interest in Jakotsu. That would be just sick. Yeah, I didn't care, anyhow- Bankotsu could frolic wherever he so wanted to choose with Jakotsu and it wasn't any concern of mine.

"And let's hope it stays that way," Bankotsu said with a ghost of a smirk. I scowled.

"Wishful thinking," Jakotsu hummed, pointedly, breaking the tension. I rolled my eyes. He always had to say something stupid.

"So," Bankotsu began. "Jakotsu, why don't you get that coffee?"

"Sure-sure Ban-chan!" Jakotsu squealed, rushing up to the counter. Jakotsu and Bankotsu, I realized, had a fierce friendship- and maybe that was why Bankotsu didn't like me. I mean, Jakotsu was violently loyal to this Bankotsu character, getting up and doing whatever he wanted, and Bankotsu was a good enough friend to not take advantage.

But I wasn't getting in the way of anything, right? I hadn't done anything. None of this was my fault- it was either Jakotsu's or Miroku's, one of those idiots. But it wasn't mine. And I'd made clear actions to point that out.

Jakotsu came back with the coffeepot. I rubbed my eyes, sleepily. What time was it now? I probably looked like a wreck…and I hate for anything to be out of order. He clumsily poured the caffeine-ridden liquid into various brightly decorated mugs, the pot tipping over and making a translucent brown puddle on the birch table. He shook his finger- he'd burnt himself making the stupid stuff. He sat down and took the sugar jar from the middle of the table.

Bankotsu got up and looked for something in the way of cream in the fridge while I sat there, clearly uncomfortable. For me, it was weird to be in someone's house like this. It was weird to have to serve myself. Usually people cared too much about what-goes-where and shit like that- but here was some weird kid with a braid, looking through the refrigerator of someone else's house.

I sighed. This was all too comfy-cozy for me. I was not going to get settled in here. Instead, I sat, tensed up, shoulders hunched, frozen at the kitchen table.

Jakotsu seemed to notice. "Yasha? Whassamatter?" he asked, screwing off the lid of the jar.

"Nothing. Really, I'm fine. Considering is how I just got a full nine hours of sleep and am now lying peacefully in my bed while the morning sun rises," I replied, with the obligatory eye-roll.

"No you didn't," he pointed out, smiling. "So don't say it."

"Tch. Who the Hell're you to tell me what I can and can't say?" I asked, sticking out my tongue. I eyed Bankotsu, who was now quizzically looking at a box of blueberry waffles. Compared to Jakotsu, he was quiet. Quiet and observant.

"I'm GOD," he replied. "I'm JESUS."

"I'm sure you are," I said, idly fingering the handle of my "I Heart U Mom" mug.

"I'm the ruler of the world," he said, with an aggressive smile on his face, his gray eyes wide and glittering with that now-familiar psychosis. He stretched his arms over his head. "I'M THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!" he yelled, loud and clear.

"WOULDYA QUIET DOWN ABOUT IT!" I half-yelled, hitting him on the head. He rubbed the side of his head, one eye closed.

Bankotsu looked back at me and scowled. "How about you quiet down, you hot-air filled piece of crap?" he asked, frowning deeply. I could tell he hadn't gotten any sleep either- the dim light of the bug zapper outside reflected his face so that I could see the pale and the dark under his eyes. I could also see his eyes were still red and glazed over with water, a little swollen, too- the product of my paranoia.

"And how 'bout you skip off to Fairy-Land to get your braid a little less tight?" I snapped, the same tiredness snapping at the heels of the words as they went along.

"Are you trying to start something!" Bankotsu replied, all-to-threatening, considering the puny size, the girly braid, and the box of Pop Tarts he was now clutching onto. Jakotsu was humming some incomprehensible tune to himself and doing God-knows-what as his best friend and I spent some bonding time together.

I scoffed and smirked. "Real scary, Smurf-kotsu. And while you're at it, why dontcha put on a pink baby doll dress and skip around to 'I've Got You Babe' to make me even more terrified than I already am?"

"Maybe I should, considering that someone here has some kind of fetish for-" he stopped, a shocked expression gracing his face. "Ja-Jakotsu…?"

"Whaaat?" I asked, and turned around to Jakotsu- who was now holding the sugar jar upside-down into his coffee, a MOUNTAIN of white grainy stuff surrounding his cup. My mouth hung open.

"I-isn't that a little too much sugar?" Bankotsu stammered, in horror.

"Hmm? Wha?" Jakotsu asked, rubbing his left eye.

"Lay off the sugar, you psycho," I demanded, snatching the jar away from him.

Realizing that his sugar was, indeed, gone, he looked up to me and pouted. "Aww, Yasha! What was that for?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Lemme put this in plain words for you- Jakotsu plus sugar plus other guys in the house equals: prison for Jakotsu." I shook the sugar jar, frowning. "Why would I give you the chance to rape me, you fuckwit?"

"'Caaauuuuse I'm cute," he replied with a broad smile. "Could I get it back now?"

"No!" I exclaimed. Bankotsu now looked very relieved that someone had put a stop to the madness before Jakotsu killed someone. Just call me Ishmael.

"Aww, you're no fun," he pouted. "Pllleeeeeeaaassseee?"

"Shut up," I retorted, and that was that. I had won and Jakotsu sulked while I sipped some of my bitter, dark coffee, satisfied with myself. Bankotsu strolled over, creamer in hand, smiling.

"Hey, it's okay, Jakotsu," he managed to say. "Look, creamer's good, too, it sweetens it up just the same."

"I'm lactose-intolerant, dummy," Jakotsu said, with a wide, suggestive grin. "But…we could make other uses for that cream…stuff? What was it called?"

Bankotsu raised an eyebrow. "Uhh. No, thanks. And it's creamer."

"Eew," he said, face scrunching up in disgust. "That stuff's nasty. It's all weird and it feels like velvet…bleh…"

I rolled my eyes. "Velvet. How can a liquid smell like velvet, again?"

"'Cause it's smooth and weird," Jakotsu replied. "And that's what velvet feels like. I want cereal!"

I gave him a thumbs-up as he marched up from his seat at the table and scanned the kitchen. "Congratulations. You've finally discovered the meaning of life."

He ignored me. "What do we have in the pantry, now?" he asked in a singsong voice, jumping on the counter and looking through a drawer above the stove. He looked at a box of wheat-goodness with a smiling old man on the cover. Scowling deeply, he tossed it aside, resulting in the box landing in the dish rack with a crash.

"You dumbass! You just broke a dish!" I growled, while a box of oatmeal crashed against the table. It slid across the wood; I grasped my coffee, just to be safe.

"So what," he shrugged, sounding preoccupied and still rummaging through the seemingly endless pantry, "I'll just blame Soledad for it."

I rolled my eyes. "That's evil," Bankotsu said, shoulders shaking with a small, lighthearted laugh.

Jakotsu put his hands on his hips. "Well, it's not like she doesn't deserve it!" he protested. "She's a woman-filth and because of it I just decided that she deserves it. Besides, she's a meanie."

We stayed silent until Jakotsu let out an "Ah!" and returned from the pantry, victorious. He shoved a box of berry Kix in my face. "I found it!" he announced, excitedly. "Wanna have some, Yashie?"

"Whatever," I muttered, pushing the box back his way. Truth be told, I was kind of hungry- and having someone wait on me was just all the more fun.

He stood there, and smiled. I raised an eyebrow, noticing him staring at me. "What?" I asked, bluntly. "I said I wanted some."

"Gosh, Yasha," he said, slowly, "you're gorgeous."

My muscles tensed up. I stared at him and scowled, squinting at him against the rising sun. His smile only got wider. I could see Bankotsu looked at me with a cautious, pissy expression on his face, and it was all I could do not to strangle them both. Jakotsu giggled and proceeded to get out bowls. I tapped the tabletop. Bankotsu sipped his coffee.

Jakotsu got me my cereal and laid it down in front of me, a satisfied smile on his face. Actually, he didn't do much else than smile- and that made me afraid, a little bit. It made me scared that someone actually knew what they were doing so well that they smiled about it.

>>>>>>>

Bankotsu'd left right after breakfast, thank the Holy Heavens. I don't think I could've taken fighting with him for any longer.

For such a little guy, Bankotsu was full of energy- too much energy. And it was rapid, violent energy, too, so he was always up to fighting with me. And, much as I hate to admit it, he was pretty smart- so the insults kept flying back-and-forth between us, like a volleyball over some unknown net that separated us. Me and Bankotsu, actually, were pretty much the same- save that fact that he was more submissive and less stubborn than me. But we were the same- so why didn't we like each other?

Well, the reason for that was sitting on my foot right now, watching U-Pick Live on Nickelodeon with great interest. "I still can't decide," he told me.

"Can't decide what?" I asked.

He flashed a quirky, lopsided smile at me, and slowly said, "I can't decide whether Pick-Boy is hot or not," he replied, airily.

I pushed him off my foot. "You're full of yourself, you know that?"

"Yah. I love me," he said, making a failed attempt to hug throw his arms around himself. Instead, he threw his arms with a little too much force, and proceeded to slam his back against the couch. I rolled my eyes. What a loser…

I slammed my back into the couch, heavily taxed with the fact that I'd agreed to stick around until four 'o' clock P.M. His grandma had decided to leave for Church when she was supposed to drive me home, and wouldn't be home 'til four-thirty, anyway.

I looked at the clock. And that was about, oh, say, five and a half hours away. So I had five and a half hours to putz around with Jakotsu before I could finally be free and get my Global project done. And then maybe make amends with Kagome, and/or irritate my brother for a bit. You know- better stuff. More productive stuff. More worthwhile stuff than sitting in a virtual Ikea showroom and watching re-runs of U-Pick Live on Nickelodeon and listening to some kid jabber on about who's cute and who's not on a fucking kid's show.

I shifted in my seat as soon as I felt Jakotsu's head leaning against my leg. "Cut it the fuck out," I snarled, curling myself up into an unhappy ball, much like the one on the Zoloft commercial.

"Cut what out, Yasha?" he asked, eyes glued to the television.

"You'd know, joy boy," I replied, rolling my eyes. He shrugged and continued to watch.

Thirty more minutes into being on the couch and doing literally nothing but carrying on life processes, Jakotsu got up, with one of those looks on his face. In the possible month I'd known him, I knew this look most of all, mostly because what usually followed was trouble. It was this weird look, a wicked, maniac grin slapped on his face, his eyes suddenly wide and bright, and was usually accompanied with a hand gesture. That or pulling me up from where I was.

"What's the look for?" I asked lazily, looking up at him.

He smiled and blinked slowly, and, again in that ooh-I'm-secretive-and-I-expect-you-to-buy-it voice, said, "Nothin'."

"Okay then," I answered, raising an eyebrow. A couple of more minutes of silence passed before I asked, "Where's the remote?"

"I have a great idea," he declared, ignoring me. "Let's go out."

I frowned. "Now, if I could go out, why the Hell wouldn't I be at home, can I ask you?"

"'Cause you love me?" he said, almost as if it was a question. I raised an eyebrow as if to ask him where he got that idea. And, due to my silence, another idea popped into his head, as he threw his arms around me and squealed, "YAY! You see, you do so love me."

"Sure I do. When you're gone." He gave me the ritual tongue-stick-out and I shook my head, astonished at what a child he could be. "'Sides, I've got a girlfriend, and I don't need any other hazards. Especially not male hazards. So no thanks."

"Pffft," he spat, pouting and looking thoroughly disappointed. "What does she got that I don't? I'm probably prettier and smarter and nicer, and, on top of that…" He bit his lower lip, smiling like it was nothing. "I'm better with my hands…"

"Your hands. Yeah. Listen, why don't you and your hands make use for yourselves at a whorehouse and leave me the fuck alone," I replied.

"I'm not a whore!" he snapped back. He let out an insane burst of laughter, and then added, "Well, maybe just a teensy-weensy bit. C'mon, let's go out. Puh-leeezzz?"

"No," I returned, firmly. I raised an eyebrow at the sudden puppy-dog-eyed look he had on, and added, with a sneer, "And don't think you'll get me to come by doing any favors for me, ya sick bastard."

He rolled his own eyes and sighed, exasperatedly. "Oh, you're no funnnn, Yasha." He plopped back down on the floor, head placed solemnly in his palm. "What should we do, then?"

I shrugged, tired of being the Brain all the time. "I don't know. You think of something, Pinky."

He thought silently for a long time, and then let out, putting his head in his hands:

"Gah, I dunno."

I scowled. "Well, you're sure a thinker!" I barked. "And you don't help, either. You're the one who lives here, for Christ's sake. You think of something."

"Thinking hurts me," he said, with a simple shrug. "And it's not so fun, either. Mou, I don't know…what is there to do around here, anyways? I don't like my house, 'cause all I ever do is go over Bankotsu's. And Renkotsu, but I don't like him. He smells. What do you feel like doing, In-u-yash-ahh?"

I winced at the slow, steady pronunciation of each dragged-out syllable he said with my name. Like it was the best fucking name on the whole wide planet Earth. "Well, if I knew what we were going to be doing," I snapped, "we wouldn't be bored. Just lemme think…"

He, however, had other plans. "Let's play a board game!" he yipped with excitement. "We can play Life. I'll go get it. You stay here." Off he dashed like a bunny to the bunny-hutch to get his inane, retarded board game. I sat down on the floor with my arms crossed. Life. I hated that game.

Aside from the fact that I lost terribly at every game I played, I just did not like the game. The board was just too damn hard to put together, and those stupid little annoying chips spilled all over the place, and every time I didn't get to go to that goddamn-stupid-ass rich-people retirement place, I got so disappointed for some reason. And I'm sure Jakotsu loved the game; he was in love with everything I hated.

The box he came back with was more than slightly dilapidated, the edges flaring up and the cardboard curling back. The multicolored letters were faded and cracking up along the length of them, and the board itself was as messed up as anything.

A quarter into the game, Jakotsu had to get…married. "So what?" he breathed.

"So what what?" I replied.

"Do I, like, hafeta get married to a woman-filth?" he asked, putting a finger to his chin quizzically. "Or could I get one of those fine little blue guys?"

"Whatever," I answered, my eyes rotating to the ceiling. "I don't care. Just get over with it."

He smiled. "Okey dokey…which one of you naked little blue guys do I wanna take home with me? Hmmm…"

"They all look the same," I reminded him, mouth slightly twitching at the corner for the irritation of it all.

"Nuh-uh," he said, shaking his head. He held up two little blue guys, one for each of my eyes to behold, in front of my face. "Lookit these two."

I examined them for a moment, but all I saw was plastic blue humanlike pegs with no arms and one leg. "Yeah? So? They both look the same."

He held them closer, a determined and focused expression on his face. "No, you gotta look closer," he said, edging them into near contact with my face. I peered closer at them, squinting.

And there were differences. One of them was slightly bigger than its left-side counterpart, though the smaller one stood straight while the bigger one stood crooked, as if its stature wasn't enough to keep it noble and clean. The smaller one was a more faded blue, the head bearing a chipping little plastic thing in the way of a scar, while the bigger one was bold, with no outward scars. "Yeah, whatever," I mumbled in reluctant agreement, pushing his hands away from me.

It's funny how things look when you see them close-up.

"So, which one should I take?" he asked himself, digging through the box. Finally he retrieved one; a normal one, completely fine, with no disfigurements or anything.

>>>>>>>

About an hour later, he won the game. We played it over and over until I won and we decided to move onto another game, Scrabble, this time- and just as soon as Jakotsu got it all set up, the door to the house opened, the throaty, croaky, steel-iron voice of his grandmother calling me to come back home.

>>>>>>>

A/N: I'm actually thinking of doing another fan fiction, too; casting Sesshoumaru as a pedophile and the 12-year-old Rin as the object of his affections, very Lolita-esque. And man do I love that book.

I've fallen out of habit of writing a chapter every day; and I do want to get back into that habit, because it was good…a chapter a day keeps reviewers at bay. Okay I'm retarded. Buh-bye!