Disclaimer: Seriously people, are these even needed? I don't own Inuyasha.
Slay The Music
Scene Thirty-Three: Play it Again
"I hate airplanes," Kagome groaned.
"Hey, be thankful, at least we're not riding in a plane with Mr. Grumpy-Pants," Ayame pushed Kagome up the steps to their jet.
"Which one?" Kagome's expression turned sour.
"Oi! This equipment is heavy you know! How come we gotta be the ones lugging everything around?" Hakkaku whined.
"Because you are the strong men in the band and it's so expensive to hire other people just to carry your bags," Ayame said, walking backwards up the steps to smirk at her two unfortunate band mates.
"I love you, Ayame," Ginta sobbed in sarcasm.
"Me too," she blew a kiss to them and turned to enter the plane.
"Welcome aboard Ms. Ayame," the flight attendant bowed to her as she entered.
"Your not a spy of Naraku-san are you?"
"Naraku?"
"And I want you to keep that attitude forever and ever," Ayame smiled.
"This is a smaller plane compared to Inuyasha's," Kagome said as Ayame joined her at a table near the window.
"Hey, we don't have that much money yet. And seeing how this is all going it looks like we're not going to be getting much more..." Ayame groaned and leaned back.
"Where do we put this?" Hakkaku asked, pointing to the pile of instruments and other gear.
"Do I look like I know?" Ayame asked.
Ginta's eyes narrowed, "I'll go find a flippin' flight attendant."
"So what do you think the rest of the gang is doing right now in Korea?" Kagome asked.
Ayame shrugged, "Sango's probably pigging out—much to Kikyô's disappointment, Inuyasha's probably sulking in his room while the rest of his band goes out and parties to drink their troubles away. And Miroku? Oh, the poor guy is probably crying over the fact that Sango wants that next Korean fat chef rather than a big rich Japanese rock star."
Kagome laughed, "Poor Miroku."
"Serves him right, that'll teach him to go after a girl like Sango. She's so stubborn."
"Like you're one to talk? Kôga's been waiting you know."
"Oh please, he just wants a scandal," she frowned.
Kagome raised her brow skeptically, "Right—that's why he's giving you all those looks."
"What looks!"
"Oh you know," Hakkaku joined them, "that look he does when he wants something."
"You guys are embarrassing me!" Ayame squeaked as she hid her blush underneath the collar of her sweater, "Besides, we should get to talking where are next paycheck is coming from because this plane ride took a big chunk outta my savings!"
Inuyasha picked up the other glass, drank it down and slammed it back on the table. He leaned his upper body over the bar and shut his eyes. One week outta China and the cancellation of the tour had not helped him at all.
"Sesshômaru... what the hell did you get us into?" came from his drunken mumbling.
"Sir, bar's closed."
"Fuck off..."
"Sir, do you need a cab to drive you home?"
"No, I can get there myself."
In his drunken state, he was barely able to stand, but he somehow managed to find the exit. Wandering aimlessly, he stumbled into an ally and sat down. His head ached, his stomach ached, his heart ached... and he wanted to puke.
"Four in the morning already?" He groaned.
Vomit came as quickly.
"Where the hell am I?" Inuyasha stood up again and wandered further into the ally—cops were coming. The last thing he needed right now was a scandal.
He sat down again, his thoughts were swirling in his mind and they all seemed to center around a certain Naraku. He clutched his head in hopes of taking the pain away—with no such luck. He closed his eyes. His brother came to mind. Sesshômaru in all his powerful glory... where was he now? Why wasn't his presence here now?
His vision was blurring... It always did after seven hours at the bar... "Is it my time to die yet?"
"Remember me?"
"Who—who are you?" Inuyasha stuttered as a humanoid figure advanced toward him.
"...I've been searching a long time for you Inuyasha..."
"Wha--?" Inuyasha couldn't make out who or what was talking to him.
The figure leaned over him, and Inuyasha could make out black hair falling over it's shoulders.
"You're coming with me."
Inuyasha blacked out.
"Sango! Sango? Where are we going?"
"We're in a mall. Chill out Miroku, a little shopping never hurt anyone," Sango smiled.
"But you—you don't look like yourself! What's with the girly get up and the lavender? Are you trying to send Kikyô a message about quitting the business or something! Why'd you make me dress out too?"
"It's called a disguise, birdbrain," Sango rolled her eyes, "besides, no one will notice us if we're dressed like the in-crowd."
"You're weird..." Miroku groaned.
"Five minutes away from your guitar and alcohol and already with the withdrawal symptoms. Isn't it nice just to have some time off instead of press conference after concert after promotion video? Christmas has come early. Anyonghasaeyo!" Sango wandered over to a shopper's cart full of what else—Korean candy.
Miroku sighed and leaned against a column. "When did she learn to speak Korean anyway?" He muttered to himself.
"It's much better to buy things here than in Japan," she sighed contently as she and Miroku continued through.
"And let me guess, it tastes sweeter too..." Miroku seemed annoyed.
Sango smiled and nodded. "Wow, check out that guy," Sango's eyes followed a passerby until he had passed, "Think he's into Japanese rock?"
Miroku gawked, "Sango!"
"What?"
His mouth hung open in disbelief, "Did you just check out that guy's ass!"
"What are you saying?"
"You—I—How come you never do that to me!"
Sango raised her brow suspiciously, "Never noticed you had anything but a back-crack, Houshi-sama..."
"In all the years I have known you, you have never even once checked out any man or his backside for that matter!"
"Why are you so mad at me? I'm a woman, I have a right to look!"
Miroku stared back at her in more disbelief.
"I can't believe you're getting so worked up over this— I just looked. And you do it all the time!"
"So? I—"
"You what? You're a moron and a pervert that can't keep his hands to himself? Forget it, Miroku, I'll look at whoever I want to when I feel like it."
"But Sango—"
"Miroku, when have I ever put up this much fuss about you looking at another girl? Even when we were dating all those years ago! Hmm? Not once! You're such an asshole!"
Miroku suddenly grabbed Sango and pushed her into a dark corner of the outdoor mall.
"Miro—"
She was silenced when he pushed her against the wall and pinned her arms across her chest—their faces just centimeters apart.
"Miroku—you're scaring me," Sango stared into his eyes, they seemed to reflect a lifetime of sorrow.
"I—" Miroku started, but finished his sentence with a full on kiss. Sango's eyes widened, she was now the one in a state of disbelief... "That's why I'm making all this fuss."
She said nothing but only stared back. He stared back as well... waiting for some sort of reply.
"We—" Sango started. "Miroku—I—we've already tried being together once... and it didn't work."
"I—Really, please, I can't stop feeling like my heart is going to jump out of my body every time I see you. I need you—I love you—please, Sango-chan."
Sango turned away from his gaze, not knowing what to say. She felt like she had just been incriminated for a crime that she was guilty of—though, she didn't know why. Miroku confessing true heartfelt love for anyone was comparable to a high-class actor living in a bush, and she was pretty sure the real estate price for bushes just shot up...
"But Miroku—" she tried to find some sense in her to try to find the reasons why they shouldn't be together. She could barely find the reason they split. "We shouldn't—"
"I swear on my life as a rock star that I won't be dishonest with you—I won't sneak around behind you back or anything of the sort—just give me something..."
"I—I have to think about this..." Sango ducked away from him and was soon lost in the crowd.
Miroku only watched her disappear. He punched the wall, barely aware of the crack that he had caused there. He cursed under his breath and stalked off, hands in his pockets and head bowed down in defeat. One could barely make out the form of a tear trailing its way down his perfect complexion.
I think this chapter is a little short, but I decided to start of the new year slowly, as to be careful to avoid any new conflicts... I'm hoping this fic should be done in time for summer, in which I will travel back to the Philippines dodge the "talent scouts" and then go and hide in Europe. Actually, I'm just going to visit family, my auntie has the coolest European/Filipino accent (because she's married to a British). Anyway, thanks to Izayoi for the Korean help. If more of you guys wrote reviews with more than update soon and "your fic rocks", updates would come every three days—and I'm serious. I also would like to thank anyone whose taken the time to review in general, I may not remember your screen name or anything special like that, but it's the thought that counts.
ever free's status: doodly inclined. (you should see the surface of my desk)