"Lethargy is the forerunner of death to the public liberty." -Thomas Jefferson
"...ha...yash...Inuya...Inuyasha!"
He inhaled. Sharp, almost painful. Weary eyes focused unsteadily on the blur of colours and shapes before him as reality slowly started to seep into the confines of his mind. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, his tongue tied by some otherworldly force. Letting his breath out as evenly as he could, considering he didn't know what the fuck happening right now, he forced himself to get to grips with his situation.
He focused on his head first, throbbing -because of course, it was- and worked his way down to his neck, shoulders, arms...oh, his hands were placed on a flat surface. He realised all too quickly he was sitting in a chair, what felt like his office chair, feet firmly in front of him as the blinding lights of his surroundings brought colour back into his world. He was at work if the sounds around him and the concerned violet gaze of his best friend were anything to go by.
"You OK there, bud? You were spacing out pretty hard." Miroku murmured as he leaned closer to his friend, trying to gauge his current state by narrowing his gaze upon the other man.
"Uh.." he croaked. Fuck. His throat ached, he needed water now. As if by some miracle, his companion produced a company allocated -because everything was- water bottle seemingly out of nowhere and handed it over, all but shoving the metal canister in his face as a demand, rather than an offer. Inuyasha took it, unscrewing the cap with only a slight tremble in his hand, he noted with shame or pride, he couldn't really tell, and gingerly sipped at the water. Before long he was chugging most of its contents down his parched throat. He sagged, relief washing through his system as he felt a small sense of calm spread over him that he knew would only be momentary. He fumbled in his trouser pockets -company allocated because, of course, they were- feeling the thick plastic lining of the pill bottle underneath his claws. He ran his fingertip along the smooth service, breathing in deep and wondering, maybe even hoping, that he wouldn't have to crumble and rely on them this time. Maybe just this one time.
His breathing quickened. The pounding in his head became muted, before pulsing so hard it caused his eyes to slam shut in a wince that had his teeth gritting together and his ears flattening to his head.
He inhaled and pulled the small plastic bottle from his pocket. He exhaled and popped the cap to shakily let two of the little oval pills land on his sweaty palm. He inhaled. He stared at them, willing himself to stop being such a fucking loser and get over this -whatever this was- already. He exhaled. He took the pills in his mouth and swallowed.
Inuyasha deftly grabbed the water bottle he'd set aside on his desk and downed the rest, thankful that Miroku had popped up out of nowhere with exactly what he needed to come back down to earth. To come back from wherever the fuck it was he went.
He handed the bottle back to his friend without so much as a word. Running a hand down his face, he blinked his eyes a few times to try and get the last of the fog to dissipate. He looked up into the well-meaning violet gaze of his friend, his best friend and probably only real friend, thankful to see no trace of pity or amusement in his gaze as he fought with himself to stay anchored.
"Thanks." He said. Short, sweet. Like he always was when expressing gratitude. But his friend was able to read between the lines. He always did.
"No problem." Miroku asserted, sure of himself.
Inuyasha was lucky.
Before he knew it, lunch had rolled around, and Miroku was back at his desk, ready to head to the staff canteen after the first leg of their shift was done. Inuyasha looked around, seeing a few co-workers who were packing their desk up, some putting on their expensive suit jackets, others hunkering down to work through their allotted break time. He sighed, getting up and slugging his jacket over his shoulder as he hip-checked his chair under the desk. He soldiered on towards the elevators, paying no mind to the employees and cyborgs who surrounded him.
He hadn't meant to work, not really. He wanted to stay in that headspace for a moment longer, one where he might be able to figure out what was going on in his head. But damn near the second those pills hit his stomach lining he numbed the fuck out, and by the looks of it, managed to get nearly 4 hours of work under his belt without even noticing. Thus was the nature of the beast. Either have a total meltdown at work or become a zombie and get on with his tasks for the day. Besides, he was on company time. He was always on company time.
He wasn't paying attention; otherwise, he might have noticed the short blonde in too-high heels coming out of an adjacent conference room, her head turned the other way as she said her farewells to those still occupying the space. He collided with her, nearly knocking the poor woman on her ass. Well then.
He reached out swiftly and steadied her before she had the chance to smash into the ground, one of the few times he was grateful for his part-demon heritage. He cringed almost immediately, realising his stupidity of thinking such a thing. He wouldn't have had to save her if he was paying attention in the first place.
For what it was worth, the woman didn't look angry, only flustered, as she gazed up at him while he made sure her feet were flat on the floor.
"Sorry 'bout that. Didn't see you coming." He tried to go for smooth, but he probably sounded fucking dumb.
"Oh! Uh…n-no problem at all! I should probably be looking where I'm going...that was silly of me, really!" She stumbled, a giggle working its way into the end of her sentence. She stared up at him, the bright green of her eyes so jarring that only enhancements could achieve it. She watched as if waiting for him to take the lead and make a conversation out of his nearly sending her fucking flying across their office.
He stared back. He saw the quirk of her lip as she gave him a shy smile, the light dusting of pink as it bloomed across her cheeks and the lowering of her lids as she took him in more thoroughly, the opportunity for her to do so right there as he looked down at her with complete bafflement. Oh. Oh. No.
"Sorry again...uh...got somewhere to be." He straightened, staring ahead to his destination as he moved around her before giving her the chance to think. He was about halfway to the elevator when he heard her slight sputter and call for him to give her his name. He pretended not to hear her, damning the twitch of the ears that sat atop his head that gave away the fact that he had very well heard what she said.
He ignored it. The implication was clear, but he wasn't interested, not at work. Not where someone could easily find out too much, too fast. Figure out that he was not the kind of person to waste time on. He didn't need that. No, he'd keep his work and personal life separate. Like it should be. It was company policy after all.
Boarding the wide elevator, he grimaced when he saw the look on his friends face as he stepped onto the lift after him. Fuck, he had forgotten he was there to witness that weird and blatant interaction. But someone must have felt like showing him some form of mercy today because his friend didn't make a peep unless the tell-tale smirk that he didn't try to disguise counted as such.
As the elevator doors closed, mirrored because why the fuck not, his reflection came into view before him and he let out a deep breath, feeling the weight of what was only half a day bear down on his shoulders.
Bright golden eyes. Sleek silver hair. Furry little dog ears on top of his head. A strong jaw and a face that tended to do him more favours than not. Broad shoulders and an impressively muscular frame that came naturally to him, something that was likely passed down to him from his father. He assumed it was his father, anyway. He was a good-looking guy, alright. And it worked well for him when he needed it to.
Inuyasha was lucky.
"...head to the bar after work. We haven't gone there in a while now." Miroku yammered on between mouthfuls of food – company allocated because, of course, it was – as he tried to steer his best friend into partaking in his one-sided conversation. "Seriously man, I think it could be good for you to get out. We haven't done anything remotely fun together in aeons."
Inuyasha's eyes were fixed on the window next to him, watching the sprawling cityscape that went further than any hint of a horizon he could distinguish. There were advantages, he supposed, to be so high off the ground when he was at work. He could take in the view of the place he called his home a little better. He stayed looking out the window, but not seeing. Not really.
He brought his sandwich to his mouth, hoping the appearance of eating would help buy time to try and weasel his way out of the proposition laid out for him. As he chewed, he made a point of looking like he was mulling over the question before swallowing.
"Nah." There.
Miroku levelled his deadpan stare to that of his friends. "You are literally no fun."
"Never claimed to be."
"You know, you used to be the life of the party...OK, sometimes you would maybe be the life of the party, what gives? You're far too young to be having a mid-life crisis. And if what happened on our floor earlier is anything to go by, you totally pull. That was real meet cute, by the way. So, again, what gives?"
"Maybe I'm sick of babysitting you while we bar hop and you try it on with anything that's remotely female." He visibly cringed. Sometimes Miroku's standards were non-existent.
"Babysit? Me? Never. If anything, I'll be your wingman tonight...if your current attitude is anything to go by."
"What are you even saying?"
"That you are in need of a helping hand, my friend. Perhaps someone to help loosen all that tension you're feeling, hm?" Miroku raised his brows a few times as if the suggestive words he used weren't enough to drive the point home.
"No, thanks." Inuyasha all but smashed the rest of his food in his mouth, knowing it would only buy him so long before he had to grumble once again about how he didn't want to go out tonight.
"How about this, if you agree to drag your sorry ass out with me for a good time, I'll buy all your drinks. Even with that demon-ish metabolism of yours. Dude, it's the weekend!" Miroku threw his hands up as if he couldn't fathom why Inuyasha wouldn't want to spend his precious time off with him in some crowded little dive bar.
He froze. The...weekend? The weekend.
Everything came to a halt in Inuyasha's mind then, honing in on those two words and nothing else.
"The weekend? As in...Friday?" he asked tentatively, trying to get a grip of himself before he lost it and ended up flipping the table occupied.
"Yeah man, Friday. Y'know? The start of the weekend, the day before Saturday, the day after Thurs-" he was cut off by a palm slamming down on the table a little more forcefully than intended.
"I know what fucking Friday is, asshole. I just meant that...it's just-" he paused, catching his breath. "I don't remember." There. He said it.
"You don't remember...what exactly?" Miroku enquired quietly, taking on the tone of a nurturing mother if he ever knew what that was like. So, probably not.
"I don't..." he scratched at his head uncomfortably. "The last thing I remember was coming in on Monday...and that's it. That's all. I don't know what the fuck has happened for the last four days." He dragged his claws through his ruffled bangs, looking every bit the man losing his mind.
"Hey...hey. Man, it's all good. You've been here the entire week if that helps at all." Miroku said, almost placatingly, as if this was your everyday occurrence. And it kind of was. Well, not every day, but certainly enough to warrant such a blase attitude to it all.
"Really?" Inuyasha asked, incredulous.
"Of course, why would I lie about something like that?" Miroku rushed out, almost giving Inuyasha whiplash in the process. "Now, if you were to ask for my opinion-"
"I didn't."
"-then I would say you need a drink. A nice, strong drink that will help ease all the things swirling around in that pretty little head of yours. Besides, what kind of moron turns down free drinks?" Miroku beamed, a hint of a smile ghosting Inuyasha's features before he settled back in complacency. It was easier this way.
"Fine." It couldn't hurt to go out for once. This was his best friend after all, and they'd hardly spent any time together in the last few months outside of work. He'd suck it up and be a decent friend even if that meant drinking the guy under the table at his own expense.
"Fine?" Miroku pressed, leaning over the table like he's just won the best prize.
"Fine." He smirked -begrudgingly of course- wondering how the hell his friend hadn't given up on a complete mess like him long ago.
Inuyasha was lucky.
The bar had was as crowded as he suspected. The drinks were lukewarm from the overuse of the dishwasher, the air thick with sweat and other odours he didn't want to identify. Even in their work clothes, they blended into the crowd effortlessly. People from all walks of life huddled together in the tiny setting, dimmed and yet somehow bright with the neon lights glinting off the walls.
They'd been regulars at Mizu's since University, the place offering the kind of low key but not-too-shady reprieve that young men like themselves were looking for. Bordering the Red-Light District, desk jockeys and bruisers mixed easily here. Mizu's was the perfect mix of discreet and functional that suited their purposes fine- like getting really, really drunk.
As Inuyasha dragged himself to the front door, a shouty and frankly annoying Miroku trailing behind his as he wailed his goodbyes to the staff, he couldn't help but feel the utter relief of leaving this place. It wasn't that he didn't have a good time. It was just...
His train of thought halted as the muggy night air hit his nose upon exiting the bar. Sour like it always was, he resisted the urge to take a deep breath of fresh air. The air was never fresh.
Miroku stumbled out after him, making as much noise as he possibly could along the way before saddling up to Inuyasha and throwing his arm around him. "Ya know...yer great," he said, a matter of factly.
"Thanks." Inuyasha wasn't in the mood to bro down, his mind fogged and comfortably numbed by the too-strong drinks he'd been provided.
As they teetered along the dampened road heading back to their complex, it wasn't until they turned a corner that Miroku stopped dead in his tracks. Giving a low whistle, he pointed to the side of the road they'd been heading down, a leer on his face unmasked by intoxication. Fighting the urge to groan out loud, he turned his head towards whatever chick had caused his friend's attention to waver. It was always a chick. And there she was.
Sitting on top of a sleek-looking bike -too expensive to be from this part of town- was a young woman, tiny from what he could make out, decked out in some sort of catsuit that would have seemed out of place anywhere else. But this was Angel City; the fashion knew no bounds here. However, what caught his attention was the tumbling waves of black hair that fell down her back, blue almost against the city lights that perpetually brightened the streets. Her face was partially hidden by huge sunglasses, giving nothing away as she peered down at her interface.
She didn't fit. While there was nothing about her that screamed "I don't belong here!" there was no denying that she seemed out of place. Plucked from whatever centrefold she lived in before and plopped down on the business district's dirty, wet streets for whatever reason.
Or perhaps, to be harassed by his best friend.
"Well, h-helloooo there...m'lady?" Miroku slurred, jolting Inuyasha back into reality as he realised his friend had escaped his clutches and slowly moved uneven feet towards the woman and her stead. Miroku tried to style it out but only succeeded in looking far more intoxicated than he was. "What're you doin'?" Smooth.
Inuyasha grumbled inaudibly, already tired of the scene playing out that could only end in disaster. The guy had struck out more times than he could count while they were in the bar; he didn't have high hopes for him in this new environment.
She glanced towards them, apparently undisturbed by their appearance. Inuyasha wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Miroku stopped short suddenly, back straightening and causing Inuyasha to look towards him from his spot a few feet away from them.
"H-holy shit...Higurashi? Kagome Higurashi?"
And there it was, the name that broke through his reverie and set his blood on fire. He turned then, focusing all of his senses on the slip of a girl perched atop the bike. She smiled then, a secret thing pulling at her lips, and looked to Miroku with a hint of amusement dancing across her features.
"Ah, Miroku. Still as sleazy as ever I see?" Her melodic voice, more mature than he remembered, floated to his ears, and that was when he knew.
It really was her.
Taking a deep breath as discreetly as possible to try and discern her scent from the ones around her, he pinpointed it. There. Something fresh, something wild, something untamed. It was exactly as he remembered it and yet better than he remembered it at the same time. He had never been able to rely solely on his memory, anyway. Now if only he didn't have the toxic fumes of the city clouding it and the one too many drinks dampening his senses, he'd be golden.
She cocked her head in his direction then, apparently locking eyes with him from behind her glasses. He wished they were gone so he could see if her eyes were as blue as he recalled. She smiled at him then, and his heart stopped, jarring him back into the present as he realised, utterly mortified, that he'd been standing there staring at her, mouth agape with an expression on his face that he didn't want to decipher.
He shut his mouth with an audible snap, looking for some form of a language he could speak to say something, anything, to the absolute enigma in front of him. "Kago-"
Before he could utter her name, the door from the shop they were standing in front of burst open, a woman decked in similar attire rushing towards the girl on the motor. "Abort! Intel was a bust; they're not here!" The newcomer shouted, clambering onto the bike behind Kagome as gracefully as one could when moving so quickly. Before she had even settled, the motorcycle was roaring to life, ready to lead its riders into the night.
Inuyasha took a step forward, body acting on its own as he reached a hand out to say something, say somethi-
Heat. Insane heat that he'd never felt in his life hit his back like a bullet metro, and before he could even think to brace himself, Inuyasha was lying face up, looking into the bright lights of the towering buildings above him. He coughed harshly, a motion that caused pain to sear through his entire body. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed himself up into a seated position as he tried to take stock of what the fuck just happened.
Dust, lots of it. Debris everywhere. The shrill sound of an alarm coming from where the shop was. Or, used to be, considering it was now a giant hole in the wall. Small licks of flames tried to stay alight here and there, caused by an explosion that no one could have seen coming. Or maybe, he could have seen coming if he hadn't been so sloshed.
He pushed himself to his feet on shaky legs when he realised Miroku had likely taken a good hit from the blast. Looking around himself at the chunks of stone, metal and glass that were intact but a moment ago, he felt the tell-tale pounding of an impending headache, drowning out the noise of the aftermath of a god damn bomb going off on their street.
He stopped his search short and did a double-take. There, only a few inches from where he had landed was a jagged pile of scrap metal, jutting out of the road proudly amongst the rubble. He stared at it for longer than he should have. Knowing that if he had landed only a few short inches to the left, he would have been impaled and more than likely dead. He swallowed.
Inuyasha was lucky.
Fin
Interface: a chip that most people have implanted living in this particular future setting. It's a common and fairly non-invasive procedure that gives the user a hologram type dashboard to use. It's often given to young teens by their parents as a right of passage. It projects an image for the user's eyes wherever the user is looking and can be shared with others if permission is granted. It's effectively replaced phones and any other type of device for networking or browsing.
