A/N: And Wow! Reviews. And, Stan Cornyn. This chapter is like a sloth. Nothing much happens. I just need to have a connection between what happened and what'll happen. I think the first few chapters might be a little boring...

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Review Responses

Kokoro of Anime- Rin is sixteen. Oh, and yeah, what a nasty man he can be XD.

HoshiiNoTenshi- Yeah, Rin's mom is...annoying. And the notes. Tee hee. Thanks.

Chranze- Hehe. They're sixteen years apart. Thanks for the review.

Chew Chew- Thanks, hee. Here's the new chapter.

MindIIBody- Yes, he's a curt kind of talker. What'll happen...read and find out! Thanks.

Starrilight-Hotaru- I like Kagura, personally, and she'll be a big part of upcoming stuff...and thanks. Well, I'm lazier than lazy. Triple-lazy I guess. And. Yeah, it's kinda like Gravity, because Rin has the same persona basically...

HawkAngelXD- Thanks! Read on.

Inconsequential.- Yes, well, I think I've lost the whole character portrayal thing...maybe it went right past me. I wish I had it- or maybe it's a slow development. Anyway thankyou for the review and you stay classy.

Silentxangel- Oh, Rin's sixteen. And, naw- the future's a secret. Tee hee. Also, Rin and Sesshoumaru get to know each other more a little later on; for now it's just his crazystupid infatuation.

Real Anime Lover 300- Thanks! Here's the update.

Chickenmonster- Oh, man, thanks...I hope this doesn't dissapoint you (it would dissapoint me if I were a reader. Pish.) He's a pretty thinking kinda person. Anyway, yes! Here's the continuation.

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Chapter Three- Fool For Love

"...he sits round, trying to make spaghetti look tense.

'Pish tosh,' we say, and 'Yellow journalism.'"

-Stan Cornyn, "Epic Sloth" from Happiness is Dean Martin

Some weeks passed; I did nothing that can be easily recalled, but I remember an odd sensation of numbness, an empty, black-and-grey feeling ringing, vibrating through my limbs, my head...It was as if all thought, all reason, all feeling had just up and left me to a putrid stinking instinctual existence, like an animal, only living from day to day, finding ways to live from day to day...Yes. I felt again as I felt for three quarters of the time that had passed during my marriage.

My marriage hadn't left me altogether. Of course not; no matter how far I went from home Kagura was always the nagging voice in the back of my head- "You're a homo-" "You're not doing it right-" "I'm a miserable bitch who needs to suck off other people's pain in order to live-" right-oh. But it wasn't as if she lowered my self-esteem or ever made me want to doubt myself- she was only a nagging reminder of my own antagonism, irritation with everyone, and ultimately my own misanthropy and inability to communicate with lousy people on an everyday basis- Good Lord- talking like this, I should kill myself...

I recall one morning when I was lying, as usual, on the couch, bored. From the bedroom I could hear the clicking of Kagura's worn-out heels on the hardwood floors above the melodramatic blare of some re-run of All My Children...I had been watching the show lately; I knew Brooke's 1976 wild teendom to JR's drug use up and down, like the palm of my hand. I was so accustomed to my own tragic loserdom then that looking back on it I am thoroughly frightened...

The clicking of her heels came louder, closer, until, at a very close range, the noise stopped. I paid no attention to the pause; but the longer it dragged out the more I sensed the prescence of her behind me, and I had to look back to see what the Hell she was just standing there for. I turned; she was standing, staring at me with folded arms, looking both impatient and pensive, as though something were on her mind. "Yes?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I need you to do something for me," she bursted out, rehearsed as if she'd been thinking of saying it for some time. She looked at me, and then looked away, brushing hair away from her face. She looked at me again, as if she suspected I didn't get what she was saying. "Like, as a favor," she added, looking at me flatly, speaking in dumb tones.

"I know what you mean," I replied hastily, more like snapping. I paused, shifting on the couch, onto my arm, and looking up at her. "What is it that you need?"

"I- uh," she started, brushing another strangely stray hair from her face, "It's about a relative. I need you to pick up my nephew from school." She seemed pensive, as if the topic made her antsy...well, she had reason to be antsy about it- I had trouble with both her relatives and children...

"And how old is the child?" I asked, lying supine again with my hands folded behind my head, looking at her upside-down.

She rolled her eyes as she flitted around the room. "He's, I dunno, somewhere between thirteen and thirty-six," she said, fixing her earrings and something in her purse. "Like I give a shit. Could you just pick him up? I can't because I've got stuff to do."

"Stuff, or people?" I asked, nonchalantly, rolling my eyes in mockery.

"'Stuff or people?" she imitated, making her voice irritatingly parrot-like. She rolled her eyes again- a choice expression of the day? "Oh, your wit is so grand, King Sesshoumaru. Do you ever stop being a jerk?"

"Only if I feel it is my kingly duty to do so," I replied, sighing so as to accentuate the message.

"Just pick the little sucker up at 2:30," she answered, ignoring me, sounding far away as she went to get her coat from the closet and her keys from the shelf in the kitchen. "And try not to be late, o-kay?" she added, with expectancy, I guess, toward my habit of sleeping in. "He'll be the brat with freckles and bushy hair. Lanky, sort of. I left the address on the Dry-Erase board. Call me if you forgot how to read."

"Who said I was going in the first place?" I barked as she opened the door.

"Thanks honey," she chimed sweetly, nauseatingly.

"I do important things, you know! I have business to take care of!" I yelled- but it was too late. She'd already closed the door. Smug bitch...

I again turned on my side and lay, staring at the ceiling. And then I had a drink and fell into a blank, peaceful sleep...

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I woke up some seven hours later, groggy and in some kind of greasy, cold sweat, my eyes and nose feeling like they were too small, too tired and numb, for my face...I looked around. The sunlight was glaring loudly, brightly, and...what time was it? I sat up, looking around to find the damn cable box, which turned out to be right in front of me. I couldn't see it, though; the goddamned sun was making it glare. I squinted and scowled and went to go clean my face.

I walked around the house for a while, proceeding in my day by making myself a drink, vodka tonic, splash of lime, no ice...also, I sat and watched TV for a bit. I wondered to myself how much time I had missed at work. A lot, I supposed...

The drink ran out, so I got up and went back to the kitchen again. When I went to the refrigerator, I noticed that someone had written something on the Dry-Erase board- uncommon in the household. I peered closer at it. The red, shorthand letters scribbled out a message:

"School-

Mary Gate of Heaven

Ozone Park

104-06 101st Ave.

2:30 NO LATER"

...I stared at it blankly, as if it were a foreign language, frustrated and confused as to what the connected sticks in the form of "letters" and "numbers" meant (perhaps the drinks were getting to me...). And then I remembered- I was supposed to pick up that little brat at his school...It couldn't be too late. It couldn't possibly...to affirm this supposition I went to look at the microwave and...was instantly proven wrong.

"Call Me If You Forgot How To Read."

"Jesus Creeping Christ!" I swore, almost tripping over myself to get my suit jacket and wash my face again, worried that I would look- oh, I knew I would look like some kind of alcoholic pervert, some kind of Aqualung, indeed...Jesus Christ! How could it be four-fucking-thirty?! I only slept six, seven hours...I hustled over the sofa and the packages- "fucking packages!"- on the floor- what the fuck were fucking packages fucking doing on the fucking floor?! Not fucking opened, just fucking lying there! Damnit, she'd kill me, she'd prove herself right, she'd win...that could not, and would not, happen. It had to stop...I bounded out the door and locked it with slipping fingers, almost dropping the damn things in the process...and then found I'd forgotten my wallet, my car keys, my liscence...so I fumbled with the keys to let myself back in and, swearing, gathered my things, put on my sunglasses, fumbled again with the keys, locked the door, pushed an old man out of the way aggressively, cursing, while sprinting, rushing down the stairs, tripped over the front porch, over a black stray damn cat, stepped on something- yogurt and pita bread?!-, got in the car, started it up, slammed the door hard, stepped on the gas, got myself to the school...

...And forgot the address halfway there. I stopped on the way at some hick gas station to get directions from a man who knew only half-English- "Where is Saint Mary Gate of Heaven?" "Osssssone Parrrrrrk."-, his language composed of snake's s's and double-rolled r­'s. After shouting promptly crude insults- "You bastard! Who ever made you come to New York? We don't accept foreigners here!"- I finally undertood him, and, muttering a grudging thank you, I sped off, the car screeching into the street. Desperately and almost hopelessly frustrated I slammed my index finger down onto the power button of the dashboard radio. I think I had it on that public college radio station...that song by the Chiffons came on- "One Fine Day." I liked the song and it didn't stress me out, so I kept it on. Feeling giddy I turned the radio up higher, until I was blasting it along the backstreets of New York. Hell, I didn't care. Anyone could try to beat me up. I'd probably get raped listening to music like that, but I didn't give a particular damn at the moment. My car. My life. Fuck everyone else- except that brat Kagura wanted me to pick up. I prayed mentally that he hadn't been picked up by some super-morphed stock-market pedophile with a hunger for young boys on the way home...oh, God, no, I prayed that wouldn't happen...

In the middle of the song I pulled up to the school, a flat, tan, squat monster of a building towering over the streets. It was prestigious, in its own, street-tough sort of way. It reminded me vaguely of an all-girls school in Jamaica I used to drive by every so often on my way to business- what was it? Mary Louis, or something, or so I was told by sources- the girls who went there who talked to me sometimes in cafes near there, my wife- who, being an alumni of Saint Agnes, told me they were "lesbians and snobs," which I believe she said because Mary Louis kicked ass in athletics and academics. Nonetheless Saint Mary Gate of Heaven was a fairly prestigious looking school, solemn and strange to me, as if it had a somber sort of nun's dissaproval, the way one of those hooded dykes would look at you with shaking head and clicking tongue. It seemed, to me, that it knew- that, as it looked down on me, it knew just what I had done, just what I been in my life. It seemed as though the school had the eyes of God himself, and it knew where you were going when you died. Hell, with the look it was giving me I was sure to go to Hell.

I cruised slowly by the school, peering out the tinted windows beneath dark sunglasses. There were religious statues in the bushes- these goddamn fanaticists- and everything was cut to a neat aesthetic primness. I drove around, when I saw a buzzing group of maybe twenty students gathered outside the premises. I pulled over and looked around- I saw- well, there were blonde girls who probably worked for the school papers, brown-haired boys who were on the football team- real scrawny kids on the A/V club, the kind I used to pick on- overweight girls who "don't care about appearances" because they know theirs is already too far gone...a group of attractive looking girls carrying books, smiling and everything, one of whom I found familiar...and then I looked over at the fence, where a scrawny boy was leaning alone against. I peered closer, wondering if that was my man- it looked as though it were. He was lank, scrawny, with a look about him that was either extremely tall or too short. He had the sort of face I wouldn't think twice about slapping, a soft, ivory baby face dotted with misplaced freckles too reminiscent of adolescence to be on a high school kid of his apparent age. His hair was bushy, black, piled up in some way. He had Kagura's nose. I knew it was the kid, so I rolled down the window and craned my head out. "Get in," I said, calmly, forgetting the fact that he probably didn't know who the Jesus creeping jewshit hell I was, and would probably promptly call the cops on me for attempting unscrupulous and unheard of things on young, innocent boys.

Interestingly and stupidly enough, he, in an awkward sort of motion, gave me a look as if he had just woken up or realized that a large black car with tinted windows blasting doo-wop music had, indeed, pulled up in front of him, and sprawled his way to the car, a mess of jumbled and confused limbs finding their ways all over the place. He jerked open the passenger seat door and slid in. His movements were awkward, nervous, clumsy, scared. He seemed to be no more than twelve but his physique and the faint hair on his upper lip suggested otherwise- maybe fifteen, sixteen? Had no one taught this kid how to fucking shave?

"Where's Aunt Kagura?" the kid asked, his voice a strange harmony of ups and lows and scratch and smooth, the mixing of a thousand-pitched flutes in an awkwardly charging melody that followed neither a distinguished pattern nor conventional musical laws. Going through puberty- what a gag.

"Never mind that," I replied, rolling up my window and locking the doors, "How did you know who I was?"

He paused, awkwardly, flushing red as if he didn't know what the Hell to say. More and more gradually the brat was getting on my nerves. "You're Uncle Sesshoumaru, right?" he asked slowly, cautiously. I nodded a "yes" and he was no more reassured. "I remember you from last Christmas. You came to our house and brought Christmas presents- with Aunt Kagura- right?" I nodded again, hardly remembering through my haze of vodka and five-o-clock blues, and shifted gears, pulling in a slow cruise into the street.

"I remember you- you're Kochiro, right?" I asked, stopping at a stop light I hadn't seen before.

"Kohaku," he corrected, in that geeky-stupid flute harmony of his. It was like his throat has bunches of holes in odd-mixed up places and made his voice whistle in ways it shouldn't. I had never gone through that awkward phase, and if I had I'd clearly shut my mouth, so I wondered why he couldn't do the same.

I glanced around the scenery to see what I could take and meditate on, when I saw the same gaggled group of attractive girls walking across the street. I looked about them- they must have been the pretty-girl group. There was a dark brown haired Jew girl who topped all of them in height- in fact had a height that I could make akin to the Incredible Hulk- who was leggy, twiggy, with dark hair and a distinguished nose on her indomitable face. Then there was one with average height, who had pulled back blonde hair and a slightly awkward nose but a stupidly accommodating face. Then in the middle was one who looked tiny and petite compared to them, fragile and feminine but also strong and dominating, with milky ivory skin and black windswept hair and, she was laughing, and...that's where I knew her from. Renee- Charlotte's daughter- even pretty in a school uniform, walking and laughing with friends but looking as though she were enjoying herself. Then she must have saw the car, must have spotted it, because she turned her head to it and smiled her glorious smile, that grin, that sincerity and girlishness that was...I stared back, did nothing- the windows, God, the windows were tinted, she may not even know it was me- but then again why would she smile to a stranger? Was she really that much of a heartless, reckless vamp? Or was she really that innocent? No, she must have seen me, must have...

"Green light," were the two words that woke me up from my strange dazey slumber.

I looked at the kid, as if I didn't understand. He looke back at me. "Green light!" he urged, motioning toward the traffic light in the intersection. If he wasn't my nephew I swear I would have bashed his annoying head against the dashboard- and the movement would be so easy to do, so sleek...and the tinted windows helped, as well.

I muttered something underneath my breath and stepped on the gas pedal, sneaking a glance at the girl as I passed them...but soon we were somewhere else, a whole other place, some backroads Little-Neck type place, small and unassuming of the real dangers of New York- an ethnic maid was coming out of a laundromat and making her dismal way back home to her master. I suspected her employers were white, probably, or black, and that they lived in an immensely incredible townhouse and were Amazing with one another each day in their luxury and back-town morals...

"You look like you're in a daze, Uncle Sesshoumaru," the brat replied, Ko-whatever-his-name-was. I guess I must have had a spacey look on my face or something but...I asked him what he meant. "I dunno. You look like you saw something good. Something happen?" He cocked his head a little in curiousity, looking at me. For once his voice was comfortable and he seemed as near a man as he could be at that age and with that kind of voice so I was ultimately put at some sort of ease, as well.

"Who were those girls that we passed on our way from the school?" I asked, pressing slow on the break at a red light.

"Girls?...Oh, they were Jerry, and Cindy," Kohaku replied, seeming to be looking at the top of his brain which appeared to me to be full of holes, leaking out what little fluid his adolescent mind had to begin with. He suddenly smiled, smiled wide. "And Rin." I shot a glance at him- thank God he couldn't see the look I gave him underneath the sunglasses- that vicious, narrow-suspecting kind of protective look that told anyone to back off. Then he'd surely scream for the cops, and I'd be all done for...

But still he kept grinning. In fact, the grin got wider, and his somewhat thin eyebrows raised. "She's hot, right?" he said, bursting with energy and suddenly turning to me in a faulty, awkward, jerking movement, his hand on the back of the seat and his whole body turned toward me as I stepped on the gas pedal at the green light. "Man, she's so beautiful...I mean, I'd like to take her out sometime...and-"

"Are you wearing a seatbelt?" I asked abruptly, wanting to get off the topic as soon as I could...if I didn't I feared I would have maybe strangled him...

"Hmm? No," he responded, looking at me as if I had just gotten his gender confused.

"You should be," I replied, calmly, as we slowly approached the yellow light- it was all about timing, and the timing could not be off...

"Huh? Why? I'm sixteen!" he exclaimed in protest, as all difficult teenagers do, with a tone that whined up at the end of the sentence.

Suddenly, as the red light had just turned, and we neared it ever-so slowly, I slammed my foot down on the brake, halting the car to a sudden and jerky stop, reeling both of us forward toward the dashboard in sheer momentum. However, as I was seatbelted, I stayed where I was...but the kid had different places to go- he almost flew forward, slamming his shoulder and then his chest into the dashboard, one leg stuck in the space between the dashboard and the seat and one leg twisted along the seat cushions. He let out a surpised, "Ow!" and then continued to continually groan in continuous pain.

"That's why," I replied, making a left at the next intersection and speeding off in any given direction.

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"He told me you creeped him out."

I rose an eyebrow and looked at Kagura, who, after starting the conversation on a bad note, was continuing even worse, hand on her hips with an impatient foot tapping on the hardwood floors. I bit my lip. What could I say? I must have scared the little shit- black-tinted windows and Motown music wasn't very comforting when you considered the circumstances. "I- I thought he would recognize me," I said, stammered, morelike, trying to make an excuse for what I thought she was accusing me of.

"Of course he recognized you, you dumbass! How could he not recognize you! You're six feet tall and you have a tinted black car, for God's sake!" she said, stamping her foot and obviously unleashing some pent up anger...I could imagine her, driving home at Mach speed, her sister calling her, telling her that her son was having heart pains, slamming down on the brakes and pedals at each light, preparing to kill me...now her heels slamming, maybe ready to break. Then I'd have to buy her new ones from Prada and oh dammit...finding me at home on the couch with an ice pack on my forehead...shit...

"Then what are you complaining about?" I asked, more like groaned, under the pillow. I had a raring headache from the strange combination of his incessant teen talk and the whistles of his voice, included with the vodka and the image of the girl...and the blaring television.

"My fucking nephew has fucking chest pains! He said you slammed down on the fucking brakes and sent him flying into the fucking dashboard!" Kagura answered, slamming her foot down again, making me wince with the sheer sound of the impact. One little scratch on my hardwood floors, one big stamp toward three-hundred dollar Jimmy Choos...Jesus fucking Christo..."And it doesn't help that you were two hours late! All the while hurting him! You think I don't get the blame for that! Well? Hmmm?!" There was a pause.

"...It was a very necessary measure taken in order to show him the importance of safety on the road," I said, simply, rearranging the scene to form logic and sense, to fit my alibi nicely, of course, I could twist the situation to my advantage..."Think of it as a valuable lesson in life. I mean, Sweet Jesus, without that knowledge the kid would never make it in the real world roads. I helped him, for Jew's sake. Thank me, don't lecture me. In essence I've saved his life, quite eloquently at that, and I did it in two minutes, or perhaps maybe less. Thanks to me he's not dead and won't be anytime soon and you can bet on that." Come to think of it, I was right- in fabricating and elongating my story I had found truth in it all. His chest would probably hurt for months- that kind of impact would do it perfectly for a couple of months, give you a cold, numb feeling that made breathing heavy, difficult, and undesirable for at least three months to come; I'd know- I used to drive without my seatbelt and then one snowy New York night got into a freak accident that split my arm open and had the aforementioned effects on me- but he would at least learn something. I was a champion, a hero. Of course, as usual.

...Kagura of course did not think so. For a moment she stood there with a dead look on her face, strained and flat but on the very straight strange edge of breaking into a red-faced maniac tribal scream, ready to kill me, or something. She bit her quivering bottom lip and then stammered, with a straight killer's face and a raw blink, "You fucking ridiculous asshole."

"Ridiculously safe on the road, of course," I said, pushing my luck as far as it could...usually I was in the habit of doing that to choice figures in my life; mostly as an act of rebellion. My estranged half-brother. My wife. My stone-cold mother. Any boss or teacher or lab partner that I've ever had that was male or old. I had the habit of pushing the envelope with people such as these, especially in horrid situations. In truth I was and still am a bit of a brat, but some times are cause and call for some measures.

She paused. Her lip quivered; but as a member of high society she had always been taught to carefully maintain composure, under the worst of circumstances, most likely to get the upper hand- not something she normally did, but no bother. "You scared him! Brutally! One minute he's talking about the girl he has a crush on and the next he's writhing in pain! You moron! You scared the fucking shit out of him you stupid fucking jackass!" Another stomp. Shit.

"How, again, did I 'scare' him, pray tell?" I asked, sitting up acutely and raising an eyebrow at her...then proceeding to rub my aching head in exhaustion.

"Oh, uh, let's see, your car is jet black and has tinted windows," she answered, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, as if it were the strangest question and the stupidest one I'd ever asked.

"I don't particularly see any frightening about one such situation," I said, rolling my eyes likewise to her.

She stared at me with a dead-on look. "You were blasting the Chiffons," she said, coldly. Well, it was obvious; I was blasting music by some would-be Staples Sisters band in a tough-guy's black car, speeding to a school and telling him to get in. I could see where she was coming from; however, on the other hand, I could never let her win or tie me, so agreeing was a bound no.

"How did he know who the Chiffons were?" I asked suspiciously, cocking one eyebrow and propping my back further against the arm of the sofa, thinking about that...was this kid fucking gay? I wouldn't be too surprised, either way. He looked like a sperm recepticle...no matter, then...

She paused again, biting slightly at her lower lip. "You are so fucking stupid. How the fuck should I know! Why is that even important!"

"Well, I should be worried- both gay and no road safety sense? This child will die before the age of eighteen," I answered placidly. Yes, go ahead. Push the envelope until it rips, far as it can go. And add a small aside- "If I were you I would be lecturing him on the right ways of social interaction."

"You- are- a- bastard," she sputtered, as if in disbelief.

"Completely fatherless," I agreed, nodding and folding my hands behind the back of my ever-knowing head, for some reason in a youthful mood to tease at her. I could feel my tie loosening around my neck; I'd worn a suit today, for no particular reason except to look respectable and high-end and reasonable; the proof of this was in a shiny black blazer hanging over a fashionably angular IKEA chair.

"Did your mother put up with this when she had you?" she breathed, eyes widened to dangerousness. "God. That would explain why she's such a bitch-"

"Exactly, and it runs in the family- only my inherent bitchiness is calmed and soothed at once by moving pictures, such as those on a television screen," I answered, craning my head around her for emphasis, "So I advise you move out of the way."

She paused. I could see impatience manifested in the way her lower lip quivered as she bit down on it, trying to keep from beating me or strangling me or piercing me with her heels, or something like that. "You just- you just make fucking sure that I'm not around when you're sleeping," she said, slinging her bright red snakeskin purse over her shoulder by the strap.

I rose my eyebrows in a slight motion, and as she retreated into the flatly modern bedroom I twisted myself toward the back of the couch, following her trail with my voice coming after her, "I'll just do it with one eye open, then."

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The next day I woke up with a fright; the television was blaring, for some reason, shouting the curt pops of machine guns rounding about over and over and then coming back into earshot.

"Holy Shit!" I yelped, falling off the couch with a vengeance, the sharp angled toe of my loafers coming into contact with the hard floor, slamming my toe onto the ground and keeping my foot erect while the rest of me crashed into the floor; one of my more ungraceful moments, and I prayed to God that no one was around to see it...I pressed my palm calm against the floor and got up with a push, dusting off my button-down shirt of any dust I might have imagined would be there.

My head hurt. What had happened last night? Ah yes. After the argument I'd watched the television for maybe fifteen seconds, and then picked up the television guide and read that; and then I found a college history book lying on a bottom shelf and read that...I could feel my eyelids closing and a pressure coming down on my head, making it drift lazily from side to side, so I got up from that cursed couch and made myself a drink, trying to stay awake...and that hadn't helped at all, so I washed my face and brushed my teeth and fell asleep to the humble buzzing drone of a summer nighttime Elvis special- King Creole, a film I remembered from my adolescence, and it gave me nightmarish visions of colors while I slept...I wondered who had put the volume so high. Of course- Kagura, Queen of Deviant Plots, Mistress of Malice...fucking wench.

A Bridge Too Far was now blaring on the television; I could hear rubble falling as I yawned and went into the kitchen. The volume didn't bother me- I spent most of my days like this, when I wasn't at work. I hadn't been to work in...how long? Three days, maybe? Four weeks? It was beginning to be hard to tell.

James Caan's face was expanded to a horrific pore-revealing extent, and I opened the freezer for ice...my eyes wandered up. The Dry-Erase board was normally extremely barren; empty as an atheist. But now there were purple and red scratches connecting on the white, a stern message from Kagura:

"Mary Gate of Heaven

You owe me

Pick up brat around 3:15 (he has a club)

DON'T be late."

Again? Who the Hell did this little brat belong to? Who would leave a child like that alone? It seemed some people were seriously mentally demented, but it was of no consequence to me- no doubt she was expecting for me not to go, to be grudging against her- if I didn't go then she would win...But if I did go, I'd prove myself right- I was a good person, goddammit...besides, I did (rather reluctantly) owe her one...and it was only 11:13 on the microwave; I was not running late, and I could even take a shower...

I was cruising over to the school at around 2:15, with my sunglasses on; it was a peaceful, hot afternoon. The sun was sifting softly through the blue tint of the windows and showing the dust floating solemnly in the car air. The air freshener was waving back and forth; and it was a Super 70s Weekend on the classic rock station. They were playing "Stuck in the Middle With You"; I had it on a peaceful rumbling melodic level of volume, and I had my hand on the steering wheel slightly. I was planning to stop at a deli and get a sandwich first, have breakfast; and then drive by the girl's school; then by the secretarial school; take that way to the residential neighborhood that branched into St. Mary Gate of Heaven. It would be a peaceful ride.

It was, in essence; I decide to do a drive-through at a local ToGo's and then I drove by the secretarial school, finding my time running out quickly. When I pulled up to Mary Gate of Heaven, "Tangled Up In Blue" was playing softly on the speakers. I was listening intently; this had always been a Good Song.

I was drifting off when 3:30 came along. "What the Piss?" I grumbled to myself, craning my head over the dashboard to see the school sidewalk better; what in the name of God was keeping this mentally retarded child? Bad enough that he had no motor skills and hardly any common sense, but now he was ruining my morning with his senseless retardation...in more than one sense...I exhaled sharply, bringing my fingers to my forehead and wincing; there was a headache and a stressful heat coming up into my senses.

...and 3:52. Where in The Fuck was this stupid string beany shitfaced moronic kid? Every minute seemed a season, and my patience was slowly running out.

Perhaps Kagura had...tricked me. I could see why she would; ruin my plans for the day, just to make sure that I Never Messed With Her Again. Well, we would see to that- we'd see just how triumphant she would be when I was setting the school on fire. But it was brick- maybe an explosive would better do the trick...that vengeful woman. I'd break her heels later just to spite her.

I was staring into space by now, trying not to notice the passing minutes; my vision blurred into the greens of the bushes outside and the grayish statue that embraced the face of the school with a cold maternal authority; the virgin was not smiling on my evil thoughts. She could hardly do something like that...

A sway of skirts; blurred navy pants; more students were pouring out now, but they seemed to belong to some sort of school function. Koh-...whatever his name was, he was supposed to be out at 3:15; what could possibly take half an hour longer? He was far too lanky to be on a sports team; and almost no chess game was this interesting...

The doors were opening, and people were coming down the stairs. A short man with a red patterned tie and a briefcase (briefcases always puzzled me) walked by; it was looking in his fast direction that brought to my attention a familiar figure, standing lonesome by the entrance.

Renee. With an illegible smile she graced the door and her dark hair swished in the wind; my legs went numb for a moment, the pricking sensation through my knees; and my senses heightened painfully, to the point of being dog-keen.

Well, why not talk to this beautiful girl on this day? Perhaps I'd ask her about the runt. I wasn't sure if she was in close enough proximity to see through the dark tint of the windows, so I rolled the window down and leaned almost invisibly over the shift, honking the horn slightly. It caught her attention; she regarded me with a surprised look and a slightly wry slightly surprised smile, wide brown eyes...I tensed up for a moment and inhaled sharply, a heated feeling coming over my arms and up my shoulders, to the top of my head; my torso felt hot, and my face was prickling numb. I lifted my hand up and gestured for her to come over, if a little too eagerly.

"You're Renee, aren't you?" I asked, looking straight ahead, only turning my head slightly to her.

"Yep. You're Sesshou-maru," she said, as if the name was far in her mind.

"Yep. Have you seen Ko..." My mind, for a moment, went blank; I stared straight ahead and then silently turned to her for an answer. She waited patiently. "A stringy kid," I said, choosing my words carefully, "Bushy hair. Freckles...Ko..."

"Kohaku?"

"Yes, that's it. Coral. Well, have you seen him?"

"I think he had some kind of film club today," she answered thoughtfully, and the look on her face for a moment sent a shock through my veins- eyes rolling up to the thick lashes, her lip slightly bitten, her nose looking for some odd reason more appealing than usual...I needed to stop this. It was getting out of hand; she was no more than eighteen, and I was getting to old for the law to pardon me anymore. There was no more leeway, no more elbowroom, at thirty-two years old; the law no longer looked at you with scorning endearment, or fond remembrance. There was no forgiveness and I needed to get the message to my groin before I got in trouble. "But a red car picked him up at around two-thirty."

Two-thirty...wait a minute. What in God's name...so she had tricked me. Revenge was best served on a cold plate; my head spun and wrapped around the concept for a brief moment, and then I looked back up at her. Kagura, that- I'd stab her. My tolerance for her constant tricking was slowly dying away, and it would only be a matter of time before the next screaming argument...besides, she ruined my day...

Oh, the Hell with it. "Well. Whatever," I grumbled inaudibly, slowly. I looked up at her; was she alone? She didn't live around here, so if she was going home she'd have to be taking the bus...but why was she still around here? "Are you alone?" I asked, hesitantly- and then, watch; the police would drop down from the treetops, screaming that they'd caught another one of them Dirty Rapers, and with sirens and megaphones they'd beat me to the ground and steal my car as she grinned with amusement.

"Yes," she answered, simply. The brevity of her answers was surprising- girls her age usually had an insatiable need to speak, and her knowing silence was more powerful than her words...indeed, she was an intimidating force to deal with on a daily basis...

"Do you need a ride? Get in," I said, clicking the locks up. Perhaps I was being a bit eager...it was strange, how eager I was to impress her- especially since, only a few weeks ago, I had decided that she was nothing but a pretty girl...how wrong I'd been, I suppose, or maybe it was just surprise at her simplicity after dealing with dragons for so long.

"Yeah," she answered, and something in my stomach lept up triumphantly; if I was capable of smiling, I would have been grinning ear to ear...but alas I have no soul.

Well, enough of that. "Fool For Love" by Sandy Rogers was playing on the radio, and I turned it up a little, looking over to Renee as she got in. For a moment I was perturbed; what sort of girl took rides from strangers? Well, not strangers, but...older men? I wondered if she was getting at something, but the thought was quickly erased from my mind as she waved at another girl who was crossing the street.

"You live in the Bayside house, right?" I asked, looking at her.

"Uhmm-hmm," she nodded, reaching in her bag for something.

I paused, looked ahead; we came to a red light and I looked over to see what she was doing. Silence presided over the car, but it was far from awkward; it was calm and it left room for the music. She was putting on foundation in the mirror above her seat, trying to cover a small scar on her cheek. Her hair was bigger than usual- it had been a little more humid than normal today. Or, more properly, how would I know? I had seen her, in my life, a total of four times...my thoughts were more jumbled than usual; but for some reason her presence had an age-old comfortability, like a sisterly presence. Perhaps it was all in my head...

"...He was standin' up on the bride's side-
Yelling his objections at the groom...
The blushing bride was my bestfriend,
She turned around and to him said,
'Yes, you were my only sunshine then..."

And we rode off. It was simple, but for some reason that is now beyond me things began to complicate faster than mercury...but no matter. It was the end of summer and the Super 70s weekend was playing just the right soundtrack. It was strange, also, I thought, how the sunlight glowed against her hair.

-------

A/N: One Fine Day- The Chiffons

Stuck in the Middle With You- Stealer's Wheel

Fool For Love- Sandy Rogers

I believe it's completely obvious that I didn't know how else to end this. Also, I like the parts where he's alone better. The chapter was fine up until the second Kagura part. Anyway happy Diwali! I think I'll do a chapter for Diwali. In Play Fair, as well; and besides I haven't forgotten Play Fair, it's in development. Next chapter they go to a restaurant with Miroku! And then I'll do Diwali. And Hell why not do it in Paranoia (also in development)? I like the culture; and anyway good-bye for now and have a very very fiii-neh day.