A/N: Hoho. So I've decided to join fictionpress(dot)net, and let me tell you, it's a pretty cool place. 8D I started writing an original story, and it's romance and stuff. But you know I suck at those kinds of things, so I guess it's like, some form of practice for me. Or something.

So I won't, you know, sound stupid in the future.

So anyways, AP exams and SATS are ruining my life. How about you guys?

Disclaimer: Inuyasha / mine.


Chapter 16: Second Base

Nghi


Inuyasha decided on the spur of the moment that he would not be sleeping in this town. Actually, it wasn't more of a "spur of the moment" kind of thing, but rather a "fuck this shit I ain't sleeping in a second-rate town" thing. He was raised in a good house with a good family and a good bed, so it only took all of three brain cells for him to decide on that matter.

Good job! Now, the next important question was: where was he going to sleep?

He sighed, irritated, and ran a hand through his ragged hair. It never bothered him much, the twists and snarls, although Kaoru always insisted on dragging a (rough) comb through it every now and then. "Grooming is the key to a happy family," she had said sagely before attacking him with a purple, tooth-picked comb.

Fucking cow.

Well, it was bothering him now, not because his hair was ratty and tatty and all other adjectives ending in –atty, but because he hadn't managed to sneak in a shower before he snuck out. In all honesty, Inuyasha had never expected to be in this kind of situation; he hadn't even planned on leaving past his gate! If there had just been some kind of foreshadowing, some kind of sign from Almighty above, he might have—might have—taken his sweet time in the bathroom that morning and bothered with a fifteen minute shower or two.

"I'm going to gut him like Kaoru guts a fish," he growled, his eyes narrowing furiously. He had every reason to feel like that, because after that bastard cut him off from his swearing tangent, he had resorted to ambling around the town until he could find somewhere to sleep.

But of course, nothing could ever run as smooth like that. No, nothing could ever just go fucking right for once, and Inuyasha ended up contracting a homeless follower just like how Miroku would end up contracting a brain hemorrhage the following Monday. Presently he was just trying to find a bench to wallow on or some compassionate store that would be open at one-thirty in the morning and would allow a dirty baseball player from some no-nothing high school to spend the night in.

No such luck so far, and as if it wasn't bad enough that the mattress discount place was already closed, he had gained a following afterwards. Or follower, for that matter. The man had seen him walking around, saw the fancy-schmancy clothes Inuyasha had been wearing, and was now trailing after him like some kind of puppy. "Hey, boy, I have a place you can sleep," Mr. Homeless called out a wee bit too suggestively, and Inuyasha stiffened, quickening his pace a bit. That sounded wrong on so many levels….

"Hey, boy, can you hear me? Or you deaf?" I want to be deaf, I want to be deaf. Buddha, I swear to God I'll start donating money if you take out my eardrums now—!

Unfortunately, no form of higher being heard him, and when Mr. Homeless called him again, Inuyasha had no choice but to keep walking faster. Maybe he was a bit—he took a wild stab—autistic or something? That was it; maybe the man suffered such a heartrending blow to the head that he couldn't make out the very unsubtle hint of 1-800-GET-LOST! Maybe that was why he kept following him around like a weirdo! Maybe that was why—

All forms of thoughts and devil's advocate for the man was dashed out of Inuyasha's head when Mr. Homeless took it upon himself to grab his elbow. "Hey, do you want to sleep with me—"

He never finished that question.

"Don't touch me," Inuyasha snarled as Mr. Homeless stumbled back a few feet, but it was more out of terror than anger. He touched me! He actually touched me! With the man holding his broken and bleeding nose and in such a daze, Inuyasha grabbed at the chance to move his skinny, little ass out of sight and made a run for it.

This was fantastic, bloody fantastic; getting felt up by some-some vagabond was nowhere near his top-ten-ways-to-have-fun-on-Friday-night list.

By the time Mr. Homeless had recovered from his stupor, Inuyasha was already two blocks down the place. Good. It didn't look like any more homeless people would be attacking him soon. Which didn't make any sense to begin with, because he did not look like a rich kid's son or anything. "Yeah, so I'm wearing a shirt," he grumbled, looking down at himself. "But it ain't anything special."

And it really wasn't. Maybe a grass stain or two, but then again, when had the elitists decided a dirt smear was the fashionable thing nowadays? He may have been socially retarded, but he wasn't oblivious to trends and whatnot; he remembered talking to Kagome's what's-her-face friend around the first year of high school. Right off the bat (Har har.) she had emitted this I-know-everything-there-is-to-know-about-fluffy-shit, and he had ignored her, if not altogether dismissed her. And as the years went by, it turned out that Inuyasha hadn't been too far off; she was pretty high maintenance, and he never failed to see how Kagome could stand that twit's company.

Not that he watched her or anything. He had other things in mind and stuff to do, much more important stuff. Like baseball, college scouts, Miroku's intestine, to name a few.

Well, the "stuff" inside his head must have been quite turbulent, because Inuyasha rounded a corner and promptly tripped over a trashcan. "Oh, fuck!" he managed to squeeze in before falling ungracefully on his backside. "Thank you, God, fucking thank you."

"Hmm, you should have watched where you were going," a voice reprimanded him lazily, and Inuyasha immediately tensed up with anger. What the fuck? Who the hell gave whoever it was the right to talk to him like that? If he had been a little calmer, Inuyasha would've realized how ridiculous the situation was, and more importantly how ridiculous he was acting. But he wasn't really a calm person to begin with, now was he?

So through the super combination of an incredibly shitty day, a meltdown inside his household, lack of food and good hygiene, and aching feet (as well as a sensitive bum), Inuyasha more or less exploded. "Listen," he snapped petulantly, turning to the person, "Fuck. Off. I don't give a shit who you think you are, but you talk to me like that again, and I'm going to claw your perky, little nose off."

He wasn't slow; he had noticed that the "mysterious person" was a girl since the "fuck" park—hence the "perky, little nose" bit. But he was too irate to care, and thus the harsh tone. Yes, Inuyasha had consciously flipped off a random girl, and he was damn proud of it; no one was going to push him around now! (Ignoring the fact that his conclusion was completely different from the expository.)

But the pride would only last so long, because then his conscience kicked in. You idiot! It berated silently. Do you know how mean that sounded? Now you're going to make her cry, you fool! Inuyasha winced inwardly, suddenly cowering. Crying? As in tears? As in wet, drippy noses and liquid pooling at the corners while they sobbed into their hands? As in bend-over-backwards-Inuyasha-the-mat?

Augh, no no no no! The girl looked away, frowning vaguely, and Inuyasha went into panic mode. Silently, of course; it wouldn't be manly and in character of him to verbalize about the butterflies in his stomach having seizures. "Jeez," he muttered, looking away from the girl. It was Kagome version two-point-oh all over again. "You… don't have to be so sensitive about my words, OK?" It was the best he could do, because he just didn't have the heart to say sorry—something about man's pride. He heard her breathe in sharply, almost like a shudder, and… wait for it… right about now his conscience was ready to deliver a mind-numbing kick to—

"Who said anything about being sensitive?" Oh God, why did he have to… what? Inuyasha looked up, and he guessed it must have been the way he looked, what with the word "confusion" almost tattooed across his forehead, because the girl smiled. Apparently, she was amused by the situation. "What, did you think I was going to cry?" she asked inquisitively, with a tilted head. It was almost, almost—

Angelic. Yuck. Inuyasha had definitely grown past the "girls-with-cooties" stage, but it didn't mean that he didn't find some of their behaviors repulsive. Like now. Put your head on straight, because it's not as cute as you think. But it wasn't like he was going to go and say that out loud now, because for two reasons: it might make her cry, and it would make him sound like a complete ass.

So he opted to grumble incomprehensibly and move onto his feet. But the girl—oh, she was a rude one, wasn't she? If personalities were everything, she was more or less up to par with Kagome there. Not even extending a hand out graciously or asking if he was fine. All she did was sit back and ask stupid questions about what he thought. Let's see what happens the next time she fell over his trashcan. "Thanks for the help." Inuyasha couldn't help himself and let the annoyance slip. Despite what Kaoru and Kagome said, he did have manners, albeit rugged and uncouth. Refinement was never his thing, anyways, but at least he had some.

Which was more than could be said for this girl.

The girl shrugged and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ears. "Make sure you pick up the litter," she reminded, turning around to re-enter the shop.

What?

"Hell no," he responded automatically, and he saw her freeze by the doorway. "You know how dangerous the fucking thing is? I could have slipped and broken a leg, you know."

"You should have watched where you were going, then," the girl reiterated, glancing coolly at him, daring him to speak back.

He did. (Because there was no way he was going to be picking up apple skins for the remainder of the night.)

"And you should have put that thing a little less out there," he glanced at her nametag. "Kikkoman!"

If he hadn't been aggravated by her behavior, he certainly would've spotted the slight flicker in her eyes. Or maybe not; it was hard to tell what passed through that thick barrier of his, also known as his skull. Whatever the case was, Inuyasha did not pick up anything and only continued to staring back at her, trying to provoke her. Admittedly, it was the only way he could vent his anger. (Not that he was feeling guilty about it, because she was such a bitch.)

"I hope you learn how to read before you graduate, because it reads Kikyo, not Kikkoman." All of this was said with an oxymoronic softness that belied the sting of the words. Which made it even more effective. (Did that even make sense? His head was hurting now, so he just waved it off. Grammar later—situation now.) Of course, it wasn't enough that this Kikyo girl backhanded him with college-sounding sophistication; no, she was going for the KO, disguised in the form of her next rhetorical question:

"Are you sure you've learned your kanji?"

That-that—! He spluttered, more than offended and not finding any words, much less the right words, to say at all. Fuck, he couldn't even think correctly, either! He had never been particularly elegant with diction, but it didn't mean he didn't know how to articulate at all. So when she had said that, there was nothing Inuyasha could do but stand there like a complete fool and watch as her dark eyes take in the trash still surrounding his feet. "Make sure you don't leave scraps behind. It attracts the raccoons." And with that said, Kikyo turned around for real and strolled back into the shop with the door shut in his face.

Inuyasha thought Kagome would get along famously with her.

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