Author's Rant: I apologize for the confusion in the first chapter Even I was a little off about switching the characters from female to male. I feel more accustomed to writing yaoi, so I'll stick with that. Thanks so much everyone. Please excuse mistakes and enjoy!

Phase One

"Order! Baby backs with loaded starch, a hockey puck medium well, hold the onions with a side of grease sticks!"

"Order up, Beef Stroganoff, code 86 low sodium sea salt!"

"Where's that sea party platter? I need that order to fly. I got a whole load 'bout ready to pout!"

"Dropped the basket already. I need that dish expedited. Check the temperature on that falafel. GBD, baby!"

"Is somebody on the bull? Comes with potato stripes, killed!"

"Already got it fired, Chef!"

"I got a dead plate over here, Chef!"

"Toss it, and make note. I'm slammed over here. I need somebody on those Pittsburgh's, still mooing on the rail, tout de suite!"

"On it, Chef!"

A hill of flames ignites from within a sauté pan full of diced onions, carrots, peppers, squash, zucchini, and broccoli. After a generous sprinkle of herbs and spices are added in, Inuyasha gives the pan a rough shimmy to tousle the contents. Next to him is a sauce pot set to medium heat, boiling soy sauce, garlic, salt, brown sugar and honey. He stirs it with a metal ladle, then brings the end to his lips to sample. His face crunches at the overwhelming flavor. That's the third time today.

"Karan!"

Inuyasha has to bear down on his temper real hard when it comes to his sauce chef's youngest assistant. The girl was trying, she was. But at times her talents in the kitchen were often questionable because of her inability to recognize when a certain ingredient can easily overpower the whole dish.

She ambles over, holding the base of her cook's hat, crimson eyes darting worriedly between the sauce pot and her employer. "Yes sir?"

He gestures towards the pot. "Taste this."

Karan nervously nibbles her bottom lip. "I-is something wrong with it?" At his hardened scowl, she reaches inside the drawer for a disposable spoon. Dipping it in, she scoops up a small amount to her lips, rolling her tongue over it.

Her face scrunches. "That's strong," she murmurs.

"Ya think?" he snaps. "How many cloves didja put in?"

She suddenly pales, wringing her hands. "Um, three."

Inuyasha's eyes grow impossibly wide. "Jesus, that's definitely ruined. Take this," he turns off the heat, gets a mitt and wraps it around the pot handle, "and show it to Ginta. Tell him I said to rectify this shit. And you, you distant yourself from me for the rest of the day before I snap you like a raw noodle!"

Karen shrieks, erecting her back ramrod straight. "Yes sir, so sorry sir!" Carefully extracting the pot from his hand, she makes haste weaving through the hectic thong of cooks trafficking the kitchen.

Inuyasha sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes heavenward. "Makes no damn sense, I swear," he grumbles, returning to his task. The kid's been in his kitchen for three months. By now she should have developed a general taste profile for certain foods by now. Yet here she is fucking up dish, after dish, after damn dish.

He knew she meant well. He didn't expect her to be this substantial overachiever, but he couldn't afford screw-ups, especially on days this busy. They didn't have time to give lectures or coaching sessions. A lot of this is learn as you go and on these days, quality and profit are the main objectives.

Inuyasha rubbed a hand through his dark hair, scratching at the back of his neck. He'll deal with her when this is all over. Inuyasha waved for one of the vegetable assistants to take over his position so he could survey the rest of the cuisines.

The large size scullery resembled a chaotic minefield, flames frequently erupting where you least expect, and steam blooming everywhere. The heat was stifling, and the metallic clinks that came in five second intervals could easily test a person's will. But Inuyasha loved every minute of it. He's in charge of this Hell, where the smell of food is constantly filling his nostrils, the urgency in deliverance is constant, and the ending results where customers leave with a smile and full bellies; all of it is what he lives for.

His restaurant, Tessaiga, has been his baby since he opened it ten years ago. It's one of the few multicultural restaurants in town that provided quality meals with speedy quantity. Nothing is too good to be plated. If a customer requests it, it'll be made. If they couldn't, it'll be substituted to match the order as closely as possible. An unsatisfied customer is one that's failed to taste his food. That's his belief and he'll proudly stick to it.

The Tessaiga's been through some rough patches with him too, having to suffer through four big renovations before it finally transformed into the ultimate establishment. Gazing around, perhaps ultimate is too tame a word. The ceiling is high arched with an accessible rack hanging a foot above their heads where all of their main utensils, and cookware dangled. To which, he reaches up to unhook a wide baking pan when he hears one is needed at the pastry station and takes it over.

"Thank you very much," Kagome, his Head Pastry Chef, places the pan on the counter to dress with a light layer of melted butter. "Over a half a dozen chocolate loaves, three full cheesecakes and people still can't recognize when they're the verge of a diabetic shock. That same table's ordered this stuff twice already."

"So? That means they love your food."

"So?" She mocks, expressing how offended she was by that single word. "That means I can't be as creative as I want. If all they're gonna do is order the same tired dishes, they can do that mess at McDonald's. I create art. Like my Flava Flav Ice Cream or Gaga Cupcakes? Those taste good. Everyone's said so."

"Yeah, but no one's comfortable snackin' on shit named after ugly people," Ginta, the business's Head Sauté Chef, butts in, beady eyes narrowed at the rows of cinnamon dough rolls set on her cutting board. "Or those Voodoo Doughnuts. That stuff sounds like bad juju, babes."

"Oh, simplicity is where it's at these days, huh? Chocolate Slices and Strawberry Cheesecake sound much safer?"

"Now you're learnin'."

"Don't you need to be worried about your own spot? Just how many dead plates are from your station now?"

Ginta flushes to the roots of his hair. "T-that wasn't my fault. I told that brat to taste test the sauces before adding anything. I even said if she isn't sure 'bout the flavor to come talk to me. I can't make these rookies listen."

"So you're sayin' I need to hire a more authoritative Sauté Chef then, huh?" Inuyasha folded his arms, and gave Ginta a long, slow gaze with cool warning. The look alone served its purpose, causing Ginta to squirm irritatingly. "Well?"

Ginta meets his eyes briefly. "Nah, I'll take care of it."

"Good."

When Ginta's out of earshot, as can comfortably be for a wolf demon with extraordinary hearing like his, Kagome gives Inuyasha a smile and presses her hand to his arm. "You don't have to be a hard ass all the time. You know Ginta's good at his job."

Inuyasha conceals a sigh by wiping a hand over his mouth. "No one really takes it to heart. S' how I keep this place runnin'. It's either that or go on my first instinct and fire everybody for every fuck up they do. If I did that I'd be out of some of the best cooks in the state."

Kagome's face expresses nothing, but warm interest for what she brings up next. "Where's that big head brat of yours?"

Chuckling softly, Inuyasha couldn't help feeling boastful. "Probably at home doin' his homework or workin' on some science project." His smile widens. "Ya know, I feel like I got the luck of the draw with Hiten. His homework's always done, he never asks for much, he always does his chores, shit and I think he's startin' to get that cookin' vibe. He made this amazin' takoyaki octopus with soy sauce and this weird white cream I might add to our menu . . . if the kid ever tells me what the ingredients are in it—"

"Boss, telephone!"

Inuyasha stared at Kagome blankly before realization settled in that he'd gone on yet another one of his endless rants about how proud he was of his son. He felt his stomach clench a little embarrassed, but it couldn't be helped. If there's anything he adores more in this entire universe besides the Tessaiga, it was his only child, Hiten. He was perfect in every sense of the word; intelligent, humble, a great achiever, polite, reserved sometimes, and active.

Unlike his reclusive father he couldn't understand why he was so awkward around other people and preferred the solitude and comforts of home. There's no judgement or fear of being left out when he's in his house. Inuyasha didn't know what to talk about around other people besides Hiten, recipes and a few shows that not many people were into these days. Like the old black and white westerns or the Three Stooges, the Andy Griffin Show, Gilligan's Island. He tried to become more modernized with today's shows, but everything's more focused on violence, gore, crude humor and domestic drama. None of that really existed in the older classics. They retained their integrity and honor.

He'd tried, oh he'd sincerely tried to find common ground with people, but it always ends with him being kind of shoved out of conversations because he couldn't keep up. Once on a date, he'd tried asked the woman whether it'll be interesting to blend coco powder with vanilla extract before or after beating the egg. Another time, he'd been at a parent/teacher conference and wanted the opinions of what people thought on who was the better lawyer, Ben Matlock or Tony Petrocelli? And each time he'd receive those shifty eye blinks, minutely shifts away from him and excuses for why they didn't want to stick around.

So, to rid himself of continuous disappointment, he chooses to stay home and care for only two things; his son and his restaurant.

"Boss, come get this damn phone!"

"Um, Chef?" a touch rocks his shoulder. Inuyasha tilts his head away from where he'd been staring aimlessly at the stainless steel counter and meets Kagome's worried brown eyes. She points behind him. "Telephone."

"What?" Inuyasha follows her finger to his back office, tucked to the side and out of sight down the hall. "Right, I'll be back. Keep things goin'."

"Sure thing!"

Inuyasha crosses the kitchen mayhem with elegant swiftness it'd take years for anyone else to master; dipping beneath wide dinner platters, stepping out of the way of slushing pots of soup, and giving suggestions and orders as he went. He reaches his office to find his Sous Chef, Koga, leaning against the edge of Inuyasha's desk, impatiently swinging his desk phone by the cord.

"'Bout time, odd ball," he grunts, tossing the phone over. "It's from your kid's high school. Principal Hoshiyomi Daisuke or some shit."

"What? Did he say something was wrong?"

"I didn't ask, so you better check to make sure everythin's gravy."

Inuyasha waits until the door to his office is closed with Koga on the other side before bringing the receiver to his ear. "Chef Saotome speaking."

"Good afternoon Mr. Saotome, how are you—"

"Cut the pleasantries," Inuyasha interrupts. "Is my son alright? Is he hurt? The school isn't on lockdown is it?"

"No-no sir, no such thing. We're all in good spirits, especially your son. He's in perfect health and flawless grades as always. In fact, he's in my office right now."

A lot of the tension melts from Inuyasha's shoulders as relief brings him down into his seat. The latter half of the sentence doesn't catch up to him until a minute later when the oddity of it doesn't quite sound right. "Why is he in your office?"

Some shuffling is heard over the phone before the principal's voice returns. "Well, Mr. Saotome, I don't know how better to say this, but your son's here for acting as an accomplice, raiding the cafeteria kitchen for, um, eggs. Which he went on to help crack open on half the faculty's cars. Then he—"

"Hold up, I'm sorry, wait," Inuyasha cradles the phone away from him like it suddenly sprouted a feathers. "You're tellin' me that my son, my child, Hiten Saotome, did fuckin' what now?"

"He—well, do you want me to go into more detail—"

Inuyasha stared dumbfounded at the phone. "Yeah, go on," he said, tone low and dangerous. As requested, more information was provided about his son's involvement in a series of outrageous shenanigans that made Inuyasha's eyes bulge wider and wider. Releasing a horde of crickets in the lunch room during freshman chow, drenching some of their classmates with buckets of water, stealing the art club's chalk to write about student rights on the side of the school, and smearing chalk graffiti in the student parking lot, were just a few listed.

Having heard enough, Inuyasha surged to his feet and hammered his fist on his desktop. "But me me speaker!" he angrily demands, feeling the start of a vein throbbing in his brow. "Am I on?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Hiten!"

Silence breezes through the phone before a timid "Sir?" comes through.

"Kid, you better tell me this is some joke or so help me."

". . . Dad, I uh, I'm sorry."

Inuyasha paled. He's apologizing? If he's apologizing, then that means there's something to be sorry for. Inuyasha scratches wildly at his hair before yanking the phone from his mouth to scream in. "Boy, have you lost your rabid ass mind? Cuttin' up in school? Are you cracked?" Inuyasha blinks before shouting louder. "Are you takin' drugs? Are you on that Happy Pill shit?"

"No!" Hiten has the audacity to snap back. "And it's called Molly."

"Hit—You didn't just—Oh mercy," Inuyasha blows out long and hard, reaching a hand up to caress the space between his eyes. "I'm gonna be down there in fifteen minutes and you better pray it's with just my bare hands!" The phone's slammed like a sledge hammer into its holder.

Inuyasha didn't know what made him angrier, the fact that he'd just got through bragging about how much of a terrific kid his son was, or having some doubts in assuming that this was the truth. There's no way any of this could be true. Hiten vandalizing school property? The kid didn't have it in him to step on someone else's grass, let alone damage it. There has to be some misunderstanding. Perhaps Hiten was caught up in the hubbub and wound up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yeah, yeah that has to be it. No way would his Hiten stoop so long to be like those other scandalous, bad ass delinquent demons. And if he was, so help that boy's soul.

Inuyasha discarded his outer white apron and short sleeve uniform shirt on the coat rack before grabbing his leather jacket. "Koga, take over for today. I gotta jet!"

"Cool!" Koga shouts from the other end of the kitchen. "Where are you going?"

"To kill my son!" With that said, the back door's slammed shut with a dozen or so perplexed cooks staring shocked at the exit.

"Police, open up in the name of the law!"

Officer Naraku Spartan shoots his partner an irritated stare. "You didn't really just try to justify us bustin' this man's door down with the intent of upholding peace."

Corporal Sesshomaru Shawl, side glances him. "The last thing we need is anybody actin' out in a state of panic. We gotta follow protocol."

"Man, what?" Naraku snorts. "Fuck'a protocol, this dude ain't interested in listenin' to you preach about the benefits of obeying the law. See, observe." Narau clears his throat, then proceeds to deliver three, sharp knocks to the door. "Mukotsu, listen brotha', I'm not even gonna beat around the bush with'cha. We already know you've been holed up in this spot mixin' and sellin' poisonous dope. That's your hustle, we get that. But there are a million other ways to go about makin' ends meet. The sad part is you're gonna have to think about those options behind bars. A couple of years, maybe five at the most, depending on how generous the judge is. So you can either come out peacefully to minimize the effort it'll take to restrain you, or you can make this hard. Pick whichever you prefer. It's your right as a citizen. Shit, in fact, go with the second choice. I haven't whooped anybody's ass in a month of Sundays . . . So what's it gonna be lil' dopey?"

Silence answered, and then sudden scrambling on the other side of the door, and muffled voices. Reports stated there'd be more than one occupant within the house. Sesshomaru's hand lowered to unclip the strip over his gun, extracting it from its holding. He narrowed his eyes at Naraku to indicate that he should've expected resistance. The foolish ones always resist. A perimeter of officers were already situated around the property; a shabby, old Victorian two bedroom abode located on the outskirts of town, neatly nestled where prying eyes couldn't see the illegal activity.

Not that the majority of the city wasn't aware of what went down here because a lot of them were involved in this shit. Sesshomaru's busted enough of these folks on more than one occasion to be on a first name basis with them. This current offender, who one would think would know better than to complicate this situation further, should simply comply and make this less of a headache.

"He ain't openin' it, fool," Naraku bitterly hisses, cranking back the charger on his gun. "Kick it down."

Sesshomaru motions with his hand for his partner to hold off on that. He presses his back to the side of the door, gun positioned skyward, posture rigid and taut for immediate action. He tests the doorknob and upon it jingling, the shuffling from before becomes more rapid. Sesshomaru holes up three fingers, signaling to Naraku, Officer Menomaru Sigma standing behind him, and to Officer Abi Byrd standing pressed to Sesshomaru's back.

At the end of the count, Sesshomaru gives his nod, the front door's kicked in and the interior's stormed through from the front and within seconds, from the back of the house. Sesshomaru spied several colorful blurs speed down the hall and caught a glimpse of someone racing to the kitchen where most of the chemistry concocting took place. He goes there after hearing the affirming grunts and calls that the ones in the back were apprehended.

Abi's close on his heels, gun up as they closed in on the culprit.

Mukotsu held a small cauldron of sizzling purple liquid over the sink, pouring it down the drain.

"Hey!" Abi goes around Sesshomaru to deliver a swift kick to Mukotsu's ankles. It doesn't immediately deter him from his task. He manages to catch the edge of the counter to stay balanced and continues dumping the rest in the sink. "Ugh, you nasty lil'—"

"Fuck you, bitch!" He snarls. Then goes as far as cupping his palm over the liquid, then bringing it to his mouth.

"H-hey, don't swallow the evidence!"

"Like Hell lady!" Wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth, Mukotsu's bulbous eyes squint with glee as the drug's effects take hold. "I am not going to jail sober!"

Sesshomaru rolls his eyes, slipping the safety on his gun. "Got'damn it." Their main proof literally went down the drain. Sergeant Shinshinki wasn't going to be pleased about it, but bringing Mukotsu in as doped up should suffice.

The rest of the fiends were rounded up, cuffed and gathered in the living room after a loud and robust chorus of Get Down, Lemme See Your Hands, Turn Your Back, No Sudden Moves, Get Down, Lemme See Your Hands, Turn Your Back, No Sudden Moves. Five in total were captured, with only one of them scarcely climbing out the window before he was slammed by the officers outside.

Sesshomaru chuckles humorlessly as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his banes before deciding it was safe enough to loosen the ribbon keeping his hair bound. It sweep over his bulletproof vest, and radio. This whole mission had gone better than he'd anticipated. It was no different from a regular training session back at the station. The squad could use more easy days like this.

"See, and you thought this would be one of those cases on the news."

Sesshomaru rolls his eyes at his longtime partner making his way over with Menomaru and Abi.

Naraku claps a hand over Sesshomaru's shoulder, grinning wider at the cold glare sent his way. "You're gonna listen to lil' ole me one of these days, man."

"What'd I tell you 'bout touchin' me unnecessarily?" Sesshomaru dusts the hand from his shoulders. "And for the record, I'd rather keep my job then lose it due to listenin' to one of your suggestions."

"Ouch, that sounds almost hurtful." But Naraku shrugs it off. "Anyway, we're gonna hit up Rift's by the docks after briefing. You down?"

Sesshomaru looked between the three, then shook his head. "No thanks," he grumbles and steps through the small group to leave the house. Though, he doesn't miss the small conversation about him—because the dumbasses don't have enough sense to wait to gossip outside earshot of a dog demon.

"Why do you bother trying to be friends with that guy?" Is what Menomaru whispers. "He always acts like a dick."

"Learn to take a hint sometimes, Naraku," Abi adds in disdainfully. "He's a good cop, but otherwise, a sad excuse for a friend. He never goes to our events, never joins our dinners, and never wants to socialize. It's like he's immune to being nice to people."

Naraku laughs. "Nah, I'll break 'im one of these days. Sesshomaru's not a bad man at all. I like his attitude. Just means he won't take shit from anybody."

Sesshomaru settles inside his squad car, ready to radio in to headquarters how the raid went. He already has most of his paperwork filed away and ready to be sent up. The only few things left before he could enjoy his three-day weekend, is following the others in to be briefed and to discuss their next course of action.

It's as his transmission's completed when his personal cell phone starts ringing. Strange for him because he could count on one hand how many people actually had this number. He fishes it out of his side pocket, studying the number and at recognizing the area code for his son's school distinct, answers right away.

"Corporal Shawl speaking."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Shawl," answers a deep, professional voice. "This is Principal Hoshiyomi Daisuke, how are you doing?"

"Fine, fine, what can I do for you, Mr. Daisuke?"

"Yes, well, I have your son Tsukuyomaru in my front office for a few incidents he was involved in earlier this morning."

Sesshomaru frowns through his windshield. "What kind of incidents?"

"We have reason to believe that Tsukuyomaru is the primary culprit in a string of crimes involving vandalizing property and potentially causing internal damage to several faculty vehicles."

"Reason to believe," Sesshomaru slowly reiterates, straightening in his seat. "You want me to assume my son's been caught up in some mediocre vandalism, when you and I both know Tsukuyomaru's never so much as littered on your school grounds, all because you have a reason to think he did it?"

"Oh no sir, we don't think, we know. He was caught in the act along with another student."

"Do you have proof?"

"Why, yes. Video surveillance can be provided if you need credibility."

Vandalizing school property? Just . . . what in the world? "What exactly did he do?" Sesshomaru quietly questions. It wouldn't be the first time a demon's been unjustly incriminated over some bullshit just because of their abnormal strength and heighten senses. Some humans tended to discriminate hard against those they considered too different to fit into society and if anything remotely immoral happens, they're quick to point fingers at demons. As if humans aren't capable of being just as irrational.

But as the principal began to explain in detail what his son had done, Sesshomaru's mouth nearly fell open. All of these fit the profile of some fatherless, juvenile delinquent with no hopes for a future. Sesshomaru knows damn well this didn't fit his child. Not his son. The boy could be a little rebellious, but what teenager wasn't these days? When Sesshomaru laid his foot down on a matter that usually resulted in a disgruntled agreements and days of silence between them, but Tsukuyomaru wasn't a bad child.

"Mr. Daisuke," Sesshomaru swiftly cuts through the man's rants, having heard enough. "Can you put me on speaker?"

"Yes sir. One moment. . . Alright, you're on."

"Do you speak Spanish Mr. Daisuke?"

"No sir."

"Good. Tsukuyomaru can you hear me?"

". . . Yeah, Dad."

Sesshomaru inhales deeply, then releases it in the same breath he uses to drift into his son's secondary language; Spanish. "What the fuck is this man talkin' about? The hell does he mean you're over there damaging school property?"

Tsukuyomaru doesn't answer right away. Then his deep voice smoothly floats through in fluent Spanish. "I . . . well, you see, I was just angry. I don't know what came over me—"

"What do you have to be angry about that's got you stealin' motherfucka' eggs out of the got'damn cafeteria?" Sesshomaru snarls. "Answer me!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Dad. I screwed up. . . I'm sorry."

Sesshomaru's tone is positively laced with malice. "You know I'm gonna kill you right?"

"Dad, threatenin' your own kid is a bit extreme. You confessed and everything. That's premediated murder—"

"I'm a cop, boy. It's either death or torture. Choose wisely."

". . . Death it is."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. You have that long to decide on what color roses you want at your funeral."

Sesshomaru was floored as well as livid. He clutched at his phone like it was his own gun being held in his face before slinging it into the passenger's seat. He calls his supervisor to say he'll be returning late to briefing due to an emergency at the school concerning his son. Luckily Shinshinki is an understanding father and grants Sesshomaru the rest of the day off as long as he remembers to fill out a Leave Form when he comes back Monday.

That's if he wasn't arrested himself for knocking his son through the wall.

Tsukuyomaru gulped.

Perhaps, somewhere in the midst of all their crazy antics, he should have taken into consideration the level of rage his father would feel. He straightened in his seat before sinking so low his long legs bumped the front of Mr. Daisuke's desk. The principal left not long after the last phone call to speak with one of the front office workers. He either wanted Hiten and Tsukuyomaru to mentally prepare themselves for their fathers, or let them think over the consequences of their actions.

While Tsukuyomaru wasn't as visibly shook in the face, Hiten had this cadaverous darkness on his face, as if the devil himself promised to make a personal visit to drag him down to Hell. Not that isn't completely far from the truth. The way Hiten's father sounded over the speaker, Tsukuyomaru didn't think anyone besides his own father possessed the ability to wring a tremor out of him.

"Damn," he closes his eyes, and hisses. The realization of their predicament shouldn't have him second guessing his intentions. They were doing this for the greater good of their fathers. But that didn't stop the heavy sense of dread aching in his chest like a stab wound.

Hiten shut his eyes and bowed his head into his hands. "Dad's gonna fuckin' fillet, bro. That's it, no mercy to be had. I'm finished in this town. Ready me for the barbie smeared in comin'-for-dat-ass sauce because that's exactly what my dad's gonna do."

"Ah man, chill. Ya Dad's just worried," Tsukuyomaru offers, offering a comforting pat on Hiten's back. "You can hear it in his voice. He thought something happened to you. He's more disappointed than anything."

"And you wonder why?" Hiten snaps, roughly shrugging away the hand. "I never get in trouble. Ever. We went way too far with this. If this doesn't seem like a cry for attention, I don't know what will. I'm flippin' fifteen. Why do I care if he pays attention to me? I get enough of his meddlin' at home!"

"It's all part of the plan, Hiten. This is only phase one. If it hadn't been a big enough scam, my dad wouldn't have bothered showin' up. He would've scolded me at home. At least this way, we get both of them in the same room."

"Dude, I heard your dad. That's not evil. That tone transcends Tucker Max times ten. And—and how long have you spoke Spanish? I didn't know you could."

"Oh, yeah." Tsukuyomaru wiggles upright in his seat, then bends forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "My mom speaks Spanish. They met in Spain. Dad brought her here, they had me, end of story."

Hiten twists his torso around to face his best friend fully. "Screw that. I have a few short minutes to live. Gimme somethin' to go aww over."

"There's nothin' to talk 'bout for real. My mama's name is Shiori Mendoza, she and my dad loved one another until some other dude promised her better living. She took the deal, then skedaddled outta there, leavin' me with him. I haven't seen her in eight years. . ." The violet shade in Tsukuyomaru's eyes gradually drifted to a milky red towards the latter of his short story.

Hiten decided not to press for more, seeing how it clearly upside his best friend.

"What 'bout you?"

Hiten knew the question would be tossed back. "Uh, well, my parents met in culinary school. They messed around up until their final year, then went their separate ways. Mom found out she was pregnant with me, then came and told Dad. She said she didn't have time to raise a child when she has a restaurant to manage. She inherited hers from my grandparents. My dad's hadn't gotten off the ground yet, but even if it hadn't, I know he wouldn't have forsaken me." He rubbed behind his neck. "She didn't wanna completely relinquish custody on me either though. So I visit her every summer. That's where I go while you're at football camp, ya know."

"So you stay in contact with your mom?" Tsukuyomaru's face softens. "What's she like?"

Hiten blushes a little. "Really, really, really, affectionate. She only acts that way in public because she knows I can't stand it. Always kissing, hugging, wiping dirt off my face, ugh!"

Tsukuyomaru breathes out thoughtfully. "Nothin' wrong with that. Least you can say she cares." He gives a light shrug. Then he frowns. "Ya know, I'm curious. What does your dad look like?"

"What does yours look like?" Hiten counters.

"My dad's a'ight. I'll show you a pic." Tsukuyomaru fishes around his back pocket for his cell phone.

"Hold on, I'll show mine too." Hiten plucks his iPhone out of his pocket as well. "I got some from when we went fishin' at the cabin last month."

Upon finding the desired picture, Tsukuyomaru turns to Hiten looking so satisfied with himself that Hiten shudders. Weird how that sharp smile of his always causes abnormal reactions.

"Here's my ole' man," he says, smiling pridefully. "I don't think he's a bad lookin' demon."

Hiten finally discovers a picture that'll flatter his father just as well and passes it over.

Together, the friends examine over the appearance of the other's father, unknowingly sharing a mutual appreciation for their looks.

Hiten stared at the picture for long moments, suffering a little bit of shock. It was an image of a very tall demon man leaning against the truck of a large tree with his shoe poised on it and had blinding white skin. As is his hair. It's incredibly pale, so white as to seem like a polished pearl. His eyes are a deep, brilliant bronze. The clothes he wore trim and fitted to an obviously toned man; nothing like how he would've imagined for Tsukuyomaru's father. He'd expected someone as rowdy, loud and egotistical. . . No, he definitely looks egotistical, in that sort of devilish, diabolical manner judging by the slanted way his eyes are starting at the person taking his picture.

Comparing his friend and father together certainly eliminates a lot of the mystery as far as where Tsukuyomaru inherited his facial structure and overall sex appeal. No wonder all the girls were after him. He's gorgeous on his own, but his father's just like him; in a league of his own.

Concurrently, Tsukuyomaru was going through a similar review over Hiten's father because holy hell who knew his best friend's dad would be such a knockout. Not that he had a thing for guys, he preferred pussy over dick any day—sometimes— but he learned there's nothing wrong with having a healthy appreciation for the same sex.

He's shown sitting on a grassy hill throwing the deuce sign at whoever's taking his picture, admiring the clear spring sky and spread of river water before him. He has endless jet black hair, and a heart shaped face that resembled Hiten's in outline. The golden hue reflected in his skin showed he was more of an outdoorsmen and if that weren't enough evidence, the muscles showing through his plaid t-shirt would have been plenty proof. His eyes were impossible to figure out. They looked like a mixture between aged wine and deep brown. His expression conveyed buoyancy, and a little timid. This kind of how Tsukuyomaru would have pictured Hiten's dad alright. Just not as attractive, but wow.

"Man, your dad's a real looker," Hiten laughs absently as he passes the phone over. "I see where you get the friendly scowl," he says sarcastically.

Tsukuyomaru shoulders him playfully, "Hardy-har-har, don't crack jokes. I gotta tell ya, your dad's pretty good looking. . . I wasn't expecting him to be human. You don't even look like a half-breed."

"I took after my mom mostly. I think all I got from my dad is my skin tone."

"Nah, there's more. Like." He reaches out a finger and taps Hiten's nose. "Your nose, that billboard forehead—"

"Hey jackass—"

"—and that adorable lil' smile."

Hiten clamped his mouth shut, fixing the other with a dark glance, and took a deep breath. It seemed to diminish his urge to smack Tsukuyomaru stupid. That, and when he would've raised his hand to do it anyway, the door to the principal's office opened and their principal wasn't alone.

Hiten's head shot up like a startled deer in the path of a charging truck. "D-Dad."

He sputters, petrified.

Good. He had every reason to be scared. Inuyasha strolled in behind the school principal, sparing the extra occupant in the room an equally searing glare before focusing the blunt force of it back on his son. The other kid's eyebrows rose up and stayed there at how visibly freaked Hiten was.

"Mr. Saotome, would you like a seat?" suggested Principal Daisuke.

"No," Inuyasha purposely growled. He folded his arms and stood an inch from where Hiten sat. "I'm good standing."

"Very well. To prevent sounding redundant, would you mind if we waited for Tsukuyomaru's father—"

Three knocks rapped against the door.

"Ah, never mind. He's here. Come in Mr. Shawl!"

This time, it was Tsukuyomaru who openly flinches when the door opens and enters a powerfully tall demon man in full Swat Team garb. Inuyasha notices how shook the kid is and has to admire the newly arrived visitor for being able to create that level of respect, knowing from personal experience how difficult it is to raise a demon teenager.

The gentlemen gives mild nods to everyone in turn without making eye contact, then centers his focus on Tsukuyomaru. The dark skinned teen, squirms in place as Mr. Shawl troops over and stands by his son, wearing a slight frown.

"Mr. Shawl, would you care for a seat?"

A head shake is the answer.

"Alright, thank you very much gentlemen for appearing. I wish it were under better circumstances. . ." he softly mutters.

The boys quietly stare at the floor.

Inuyasha narrows his eyes so tight his temples ache.

"Boys, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Inuyasha chuckles bitterly. "I can't wait to hear this."

Hiten nervously rubs his palms. "U-um, well, ya see, the thing is—"

"It's my fault," Tsukuyomaru suddenly blurts out, gathering a surprised look from everyone. "It was my idea. I goaded Hiten into helpin' me make a mess of the school—"

"Hold up, you didn't force me. I wanted to do it!"

"Nah, you wouldn't have and it's my fault for pressurin' you into it."

Relief somewhat made itself home in Inuyasha's chest as he closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling a few moments to collect himself. "So, you're tellin' me that you allowed yourself to get manipulated by some demon kid?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" said a low, deep and dangerous voice.

Inuyasha rubbed the space between his chest to quell the vibration the tone caused and cleared his throat. "You heard what he said," he directed to the demon man who didn't disguise his displeasure at the comment. "He confessed to forcin' my son into misbehaving."

"Did you not hear your own demon kid just say he wasn't forced into anything? He was a willing participate. They're both at fault."

"Listen, um, Shawl, is it? I don't know how you raise your son, but mine isn't a frequent troublemaker. You might be used to—"

The man steps away from his son's side, batting away the hand reaching out to halt his approach. Inuyasha stood his ground as the man with impossible height stood directly in front of him. Inuyasha's nose twitched at the scent of sweat, aftershave and grass.

"Let's get somethin' straight Saotome, my child isn't one of those frequent troublemakers as you've so kindly implied. He's this school district's leading runnin' back with a flawless attendance record, a nonexistent criminal background and good grades. I raised my child just fine. Who's to say the way you raised your spawn isn't the real problem?"

"Spawn?" Inuyasha spat, sizing the other up. "You might wanna reverse that insult. I'm not gonna stand here and let you disrespect mines."

"Likewise, lil' man."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dad back off!" Tsukuyomaru squeezes in between them, pushing at his father's chest.

Hiten does the same, pleadingly staring into his father's face. "Dad, come on, it's OK. No reason to get upset."

Inuyasha pulls Hiten behind him. "Like Hell there isn't. He's standin' here talkin' like you're the one to blame for this!"

Shawl does the same to his son. "You started insinuatin' BS like you know my kid; the same basic stereotypes the same as everybody else. Always quick to make assumptions without reliable evidence. Never mind the fact that your half-breed child is equally part of the problem and even said so!"

Inuyasha stares with his mouth open. Then he swallows, chancing a quick glance over his shoulder to check on his son's reaction. Luckily, the commotion's too much for the wicked insult to catch up to him, but that wasn't going to fly by Inuyasha.

Inuyasha stalked up to him with his fists clenched. "Say that shit again. I dare you."

A sinister smirk spreads across firm, smooth lips. "You think you can drop me?"

"Like a bad habit, asshole."

Hiten wedges himself in between them this time, shoving at Inuyasha's shoulders. "Dad, come on. That's enough. Can we just go? Please?"

Inuyasha wasn't entirely aware of how hard he was breathing until he looked into Hiten's scared eyes and made himself calm down. He took several long inhales, then slowly nods. "Go wait in the car," he murmurs.

Hiten eagerly nods, grabbing his stuff and does as he's told. Inuyasha nods to the principal, "I apologize for my behavior," he says to the horrified man. "But since cooperation clearly won't be practiced between all parties," he pointedly directs towards the other adult, "could you call me about what Hiten's punishment will be? Hopefully based off his good grades and attendance, there can be some leniency in your final decision."

"The same had better be applied towards Tsukuyomaru," Shawl sharply orders, never taking his slanted eyes off Inuyasha.

"I'd already made up my mind over what's to be done, but given how fast this escalated, I'll prefer to discuss it over the phone, Mr. Shawl."

He doesn't seem satisfied with the answer, but agrees anyway. "Get your stuff. We're leavin'."

Tsukuyomaru sighs. "Yes sir." Like Hiten he gathers all of his things and ducks out of the office.

Inuyasha squares Shawl over carefully, then narrows his eyes. "Keep that son of yours away from mine. Ya got that? The last thing I want is your boy influencin' Hiten into committing devilment."

Shawl folds his arms, smirking tauntingly. "Yeah, I'd hate for my son to corrupt your boy. Since he clearly isn't able to make up his own mind."

Inuyasha bites back a retort, knowing it wouldn't serve well to break anymore school property. He offers a just as conniving smirk, then says, "Of course. That's what you heathen demons are good at." With that said, he turns on his heel to leave, gratified to know he has the last word and knowing he put that pissed off expression on that jackass's face.

Text Messages:

Hiten

Tsukuyomaru

You complete dumbass. This plan sucks. What was that? Just what in the actual hell happened back there? That did not go the way it should have!

Relax, bro, I got this. Things got a lil' haywire, but no worries. It still worked. We have their attention at least.

They hate each other.

For now. Just wait until we go on to Phase 2.

You're sure this'll work?

It'll work babes, trust me. Just make sure you handle your end and I'll take care of mine.

. . . Whatever. I gotta go. My Dad's comin' to the car. Stay alive.

I'll try. Peace bro.

BTW My dad says we're gonna drive by the local cemetery to pick out a good plot, so I might not answer my phone tonight.

My Dad says he wishes he'd drowned me at birth because he could've saved money on blood pressure medicine.

. . . Yeah, this'll work. They're made for each other.