Hello, hello!
Time for a few notes on the character Kikyou plays in this fanfiction. Hear me out. I love Kikyou as a character, I think she's gold, and I think Takahashi-Sensei did good when creating her. I do pity her, I can relate to her to some (some) extent, but for the most, she is a character that I love to hate.
Now, by 'love to hate', I don't mean that I call her a ho, or some of the other… er… creative names people have come up with to describe her, I will never bash her as a character, but I do believe that Kikyou was a woman driven mad by not only love but betrayal as well. I love to hate the way she has come between Inuyasha and Kagome for so long, yet I also fully understand that the relationship between the two are better because of Kikyou.
The Kikyou I write in this fanfiction is the same Kikyou that first appears in the Manga, personality-wise. Keep that in mind.
Hope you all enjoy the second chapter!
~SugarRos
.o0o.
Dedication: Chapter two is dedicated to the readers who've hopped over as fans from the original Pretty Kagome fanfiction. Thanks for sticking with me guys, you're the best.
Chapter Written To: Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky. I suggest you download and read the chapter along with the song, they go very well together.
.o0o.
Chapter Two: Hatched Plans
.o0o.
It took her a good thirty minuets to get home. Somewhat because she chose to move among the shadows, chose not to draw attention to herself, somewhat because she hurt all over, because her feet dragged underneath her legs in pain, because her face felt bruised. It was mostly because she was terrified.
Youkai. Her mind whispered menacingly to her. It was youkai. What else could it be? She had to stop several times to remember to breathe. To remember where she was going. There are laws set in place so youkai don't do that to people. There are rules for street fights, she tried to comfort herself.
Youkai don't obey the rules for street fights.
That wasn't true. Most youkai did obey the street fighting rules, and those that didn't were caught and tried, and usually locked up and treated to the full extent of the law. The consequence of being caught street fighting over the rules was great enough that most obey the street fighting rules, and those that didn't were usually caught and tried, and usually locked up and treated. The consequence of being caught street fighting over the rules was great enough that most youkai didn't even bother getting into them.
This was youkai, no doubt about it. Her mind reassured her. Kagome shook her thoughts away. It made no sense. Why would a youkai risk treatment for someone it barely knew? Why would a youkai risk treatment for a slum girl?
Thirty minuets of debating with herself, thirty minuets of painful walking, and Kagome finally shut the door to her apartment, her mind racing and her breath short and hitched. Her eyes had been blurred with unleashed tears since she had awoken in the alley to find herself alone, the men who'd been beaten to a pulp around her unconscious. …Maybe even dead.
Now, leaning her back against the door of her apartment, Kagome let her silent tears fall. Tears of pure relief. Someone had saved her life tonight, because she sure as heck hadn't beaten anyone up. But she couldn't remember what had happened. There were voices, there was arguing, there was that disgustingly sickening smell as the man had unzipped his pants and forced her cheek to press up against him…
And then she'd been saved. It was blurry, but the voice had been raw and angry, and it was enough for the men to release their hold on her, enough for her to fall into sweet, unconscious bliss. She didn't think that the men had actually followed through with their plains. Kagome had been a virgin, and she'd heard all the horror stories about the pain. It was true that her stomach ached like she couldn't believe, but that had to be from the punch to her gut, not… not that. A quick check below had confirmed that she was still… normal. Still right. So either someone had stepped in beforehand and stopped her attackers, or her outside bruises hurt worse than her inside ones. She hoped to the Gods that the first was the truth.
Kagome's memory was fuzzy, and while unconscious she certainly dreamed of her rescuer, but she couldn't put a face to him. She couldn't put a body to him, for that matter. She only had his voice.
Sighing and finally resigning to the fact that no matter the outcome, she'd gotten lucky at the end there, she willed her tired, bruised body away from the door and towards the bed. A chill ran up her back, and she let in a sharp intake of breath as she noticed a lump on the bed. It was seconds later before she realized it was only her roommate.
Man, she was jumpy.
Akane lay curled up in scrawny blankets, her legs tucked in underneath and her arms wrapped around her body. Kagome moved closer to see Akane's face better, suddenly worried. Why was Akane home so early? It was only five past one. Usually she didn't get in until late morning. She looked okay though; she seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough. She fought the urge to wake Akane up right that moment, to tell her what happened, to let her know she wasn't okay working the streets. Another attack like the one she had tonight would be too much. Tonight was too much already.
Kagome was too scared to step outside again.
Slowly, telling herself to wait to give her the news until morning, she wiped the hair from Akane's forehead, and her fingertips came away drenched with sweat. Surprised, she sat at the edge of the bed and took a closer look. Akane's lids fluttered, and Kagome forced herself to relax. She was just dreaming.
She pressed her forehead into her hands as she thought about the evening's events. She shouldn't have survived. Most girls would not have made it through such a predicament alive. Men like the ones who had attacked her were set on killing their victims, weren't they? Had her luck turned out differently, she never would have seen Akane again.
She shivered at the mental image of a broken, abused body – her body – lying cold and unmoving in a lifeless clump, thrown in sloppily with the trash. Would anyone have even bothered to find her killer? Would they have taken her as just another drug-addicted prostitute? Would they have sighed and shrugged their shoulders and shaken their heads at how she had ended up dead? It's really such a pity, they'd say to each other, if she'd stayed the straight and narrow path she would have done something with her life.
'Whore.' They'd call her under their breath. 'Filthy garbage, infesting the streets.'
Kagome choked back a sob and reminded herself that she hadn't ended up like that. She was alive. Alive. "I'm alive." She said aloud. Saying it made it more real to her somehow.
Taking her hands away from her eyes, she glanced down at the darkly crusted blood that lay beneath Akane's nose. Obviously Akane was okay, although Kagome was extremely nervous about the amounts of cocaine she was inhaling. It seemed like there was never enough to fill her friends' desires, and the money Akane was making was fueling only her habit, making it hard to pay rent and buy food.
Akane's life was breaking apart, and Kagome's was being dragged along with hers, side-by-side.
Kagome sniffed and slowly lay down next to her friend, closing her eyes and drifting off into a fretful sleep, filled with dark shadows and violence, as well as the deep, masculine words: "Don't stick her like she's a dead cat!"
It felt like only moments before her eyes snapped open, and for a second Kagome forgot where she was. There was frantic movement behind her, and she turned her head to see a blurry Akane thrashing around. Her head was forced back and she was emitting choking sounds as a small amount of foamy liquid seeped over the corner of her mouth.
"Oh Gods… Oh Gods, Akane!!" Kagome jumped out of the bed and leaned over her roommate, placing her hand on Akane's chin and holding her as still as possible, trying to get a better clue as to what was happening. Her eyes were rolling back, her lids fluttering violently.
What should she do, what should she do? Panic swept over her and a flood of horrified tears threatened to break free.
No, no, she couldn't lose it. She couldn't lose control right now. She knew what to do. She steeled herself and removed her hand from Akane's chin – which was now shaking uncontrollably – and kneeled on the mattress, looking her up and down for signs of… anything. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, and her throat was trembling.
"Check her throat, dammit! You know this!" Her mind spat at her, and she grabbed onto Akane's chin again, forcing her head back a bit further and reaching her finger into her mouth, pressing the tongue down and ignoring the disgustingly slimy saliva as her finger drove into the opening, searching frantically for anything that might be blocking the passageway. She didn't feel anything but the uprising of vomit, and managed to roll Akane over onto her side only seconds before it flew from her mouth and over the side of the bed.
Coughing, Akane frantically heaved in large amounts of air, breathing raggedly. Her lids stopped fluttering, her eyes focused as Kagome slowly rolled her onto her back again and grabbed a napkin from the bedside table, wiping at her mouth.
Akane lifted her eyelids and fixed a confused gaze onto Kagome. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but Kagome shook her head. "No, don't. Your throat is probably really swollen, don't strain it anymore." She stood, walked over to the fridge and took out a bottle of water before hurrying back to Akane's side. She placed her left hand under her roommate's head, lifting it slightly and tipping the bottle to her lips with her right. "Just a little bit," she instructed, "I don't want you choking again."
Kagome felt… different. She wasn't panicked anymore, just relieved. Relieved and infuriated. She knew something like this was inevitable. Akane liked to think she was invincible, that she wasn't prey to the drugs, but the danger signs of her habit were blatantly clear.
"Are you feeling okay?" Kagome asked, her voice tight. "As okay as you can be, I mean?" She tried to hide the bite in her tone. Tonight wasn't the night to lecture Akane; she'd almost died right next to her, in her sleep.
The thought hit her that it was strange they'd both almost died tonight.
Akane nodded weakly, her eyes opening and closing slowly, her breathing harsh. She was alive, they both were, but Kagome wasn't sure how long it would last. Tonight's close calls stuck in her mind, kept her heart beating, kept her eyes open. There was no way she was going back to sleep tonight, she could easily wake up the next morning and find Akane dead.
Just like she could have been dead. It was a fear that could become real all too soon for Kagome's liking.
So she stayed awake, sitting next to her roommate in the dark, watching over a body that was grotesquely delicate. She wanted to throw up just as Akane had earlier. The person Kagome was becoming was beginning to sicken her. She never would have though she would've been the type of person to simply stay silent while a friend slowly committed suicide. She never would have though she'd be the type of person to actually hit a rock bottom – where selling her body was the only thing she could do to stay afloat.
What was happening to her? What had she become?
The goal of freeing her brother from the orphanage was becoming a far-off dream, unreachable, one she was sure never to accomplish while her roommate refused to pay rent, choosing to buy immense amounts of cocaine to fuel her filthy habit instead. Rent was questionable from herself now as well, now that quick money via prostitution was definitely out.
What was to become of them? Of her younger brother that wasted away in a terror-filled orphanage, where they beat him, as surely as they had beaten her? She felt as if she and her brother would both fade away into nothing, always being a slave to such a tragic destiny.
She stayed awake throughout the night, keeping constant watch on her friend, and wept over a future that looked as bleak as the street shadows that swept across her window.
.o0o.
Kikyou paced inside her therapists' office, walking back and forth from the door to the couch she'd been sitting on only moments ago, willing herself not to nibble on her thumbnail in frustration. It had been hard, weaning herself off of such a disgusting habit as nail biting, but she'd done it, and stuck to it most of the time. She still indulged, though, whenever she had a strong emotional response to anything, which rarely happened.
Right now it was happening. She was frustrated. And she was struggling not to indulge. To indulge would be to give in, to admit she had a weakness. She was stronger than the urge, stronger than her need to nibble.
Kikyou had a proclivity for short bursts of fiery temper, and it took all her strength to remain merely 'frustrated.' The temptation to bite was becoming overwhelming, and the more she resisted, the less frustrated and more pissed off she became.
A soft 'a-hem' came from off to her right just as she was raising her thumb to her mouth, unconsciously eager to take a nail between her teeth, and it startled her enough to lower her hand, glairing at the offensive appendage as if it were set out to do her in. Aside from her moment of clarity, from her triumph over her struggle, she all but ignored the interruption. True, she was supposed to divulge in conversation during visits to her therapists' office, she'd been court ordered to, in point of fact, but she didn't feel like conversing today. She didn't feel like talking any day, and she wouldn't be anywhere near this place had she not been forced to by law.
"Sit down and tell me about it." The voice to her right drifted towards her again, in all its deep, soothing ways, yet strangely detached and cold demeanor. Kikyou made a slight sound of disgust as acknowledgement to the man who sat calmly in his comfortable swivel chair, a yellow pad on his lap and a pen held ready in his hand.
'How stereotypically unoriginal.' She mused, tilting her chin up in defiance.
Oh, how this man made her angry. If there were any way to do so, she would surely kill him the first chance she got. But Kikyou was not unintelligent, and she knew all too well what would befall her if she let even a glimpse of her murderous thoughts show on her face. Luckily, she'd always had a talent of being able to show no emotions when it came to her face, not at all unlike her detached, unemotional therapist, and it usually worked in her favor.
Usually.
Luckily, today was a usual sort of day.
"Will you sit down, at least?" He wondered in a uninterested tone. "I'm becoming quite fed up with your insistent pacing."
Kikyou stuck him with a cold glare – which he met with his own – and sat heavily on the black, almost-bed-like couch, crossing her arms and legs and sticking her nose up in the air in blatant disrespect. She did not want to look at him.
The man sighed at her childish tantrum and turned slowly in his chair, the bored expression on his face making her insides positively seethe with anger. How she hated him with every ounce of her entire being. She almost hated him more than his younger brother, whom she was currently planning on destroying, and couldn't help but imagine a gory scene where she stood over his un-moving body, laughing in righteous triumph over how she'd won.
How she won, she didn't know for sure, but it didn't
really matter in her mind, she honestly didn't care. She just
wanted the euphoric feeling of dominating Inuyasha and his
frustrating older brother, Sesshoumaru, who was currently staring
down at her though a pair of un-rimmed, clear, rectangular glasses.
She suspected the glasses were for show, as Sesshoumaru, unlike Inuyasha, was a full-blooded youkai, and his sight couldn't possibly be less than 20/20. No, she could swear that he wore them to lower the defenses of his clients, as most therapy sessions had to be conducted in a comfortable atmosphere.
Not that Kikyou was ever comfortable around Sesshoumaru. She could seethe and huff and throw her anger and frustration around all she wanted, and she'd still have an underlining fear in the pit of her stomach when he was near her. This fear had crept up when she first met him at the Kobun house, when she and Inuyasha were no older than fifteen, and Sesshoumaru had looked upon her with those deep, dark, unreadable eyes. Those eyes sent a chill of horror up her spine.
Of course it figured that he would be the one the state would assign to for therapy sessions, although the thought had crossed her that he might have requested her case file, that it hadn't been some random coincidence. It was embarrassing enough that she had to attend such a trivial, unsophisticated trend as therapy, especially because it meant people saw her as irrational. Deranged. Crazy. It wasn't that she cared what the masses thought so much, it was that the reason she was forced to attend therapy in the first place faulted entirely on Sesshoumaru's younger brother.
His betrayal ran deep through her veins.
Thoughts of Inuyasha sent her mind reeling with rage, and she breathed deeply to rid herself of them. Don't start talking about that bastard. Don't let it slip. Speaking of Inuyasha to Sesshoumaru would be a wish of confinement.
Sesshoumaru sighed again, bored, and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers, a sure sign of exhausted annoyance. "Kikyou, we will get on with the session now. I am fully aware of that fact that you do not want to be here."
Kikyou's frown deepened, but she sat down on the couch after a few thoughtful seconds, and closed her eyes.
"Better." Sesshoumaru said, bringing his pen down to his pad. "Now, what is it that has you all out of shape?"
Out of shape? His choice of words flashed up another shot of anger, but she forced it down. She didn't need him to notice just how angry she was becoming. "I am not out of shape," she said in his same mocking tone, "I am annoyed."
"With what?"
"With nothing that concerns you."
"With my dear, younger brother?"
She stiffened. "Your idiotic younger brother," she stated coolly on the outside and raged on the inside, "is none of my concern." Her hands folded neatly on her crossed knees. The hand hidden from Sesshoumaru's view dug fingernails into her own skin.
Don't let him see it. She chanted.
Sesshoumaru continued as if the conversation were a pleasant one. "What has Inuyasha done this time?"
Kikyou turned her head to glance up at him. "I haven't been anywhere near that bastard."
His only change in expression was the raising of his brow in a speculative manor. "How strange, my father called to tell me that you were at the party thrown last Saturday. Personally." He added at the end.
She showed the barest hint of a frown, but didn't answer.
His gaze didn't waver, and his mouth opened to spout more dirty, dirty words. "In fact, my father claimed that you spoke to Inuyasha, just as he was leaving."
Don't show him your pain.
"Will you deny what my father has said?"
"If I do?" Kikyou asked, too quickly to sound innocent.
"Then I will know what you tell me are lies." His mouth twisted in the barest hint of a smile, and oh, he meant her lie to for sure. "But we know that, don't we? That you lie?"
It was enough. She'd been taunted by this narrow-minded youkai for half an hour already, he'd insulted her, accused her of being crazy. Not in words, but in tone. She would take no more of his disrespectful attitude. She was from a holy line of Priestesses. Who was he, a filthy youkai to even attempt to mess with her?
"So let's try this again," he was saying, in the same cold, daunting voice, although his eyes had suddenly flared to life, fire burning within them, "what were you talking to my brother about?"
She snapped. "It's none of your business what we discussed."
"Oh?"
"Your brother…" her hands unclasped from her knees and her nails were now digging viciously into the leather couch, "your moronic brother, skipping around me as if I – I – I were nothing but a one-night fling! As if I were nothing but one of his frivolous money-grubbing whores!"
"My brother-"
"He decided to go on a slum roll instead of talk to me!" She seethed, unable to contain her fury. "To go to some trashy bar with that perverted friend of his!"
"Now comes the question of what you were doing talking to him," he interrupted. "Our goal was to keep away from him. Don't forget what led you here in the first place."
"Shut your filthy mouth, Sesshoumaru! I know full well that I should stay away!" She raged. "But I don't have control anymore!" She was lost to herself, seeing nothing but his betrayal, his horrible, evil deed that had killed her, had turned her into the person she was today. "I need to control it!"
Sesshoumaru's voice lost its hard edge, and turned soft, although still cold as ice. "Kikyou, you must understand that you are merely a human, and as such, have no hope of controlling hanyou, even as weakened and sympathetic with humans as my brother is." He stood and went to the coffee pot that sat across the room. "Coffee?"
"No." She declined, and abruptly stood from the couch to start her pacing again.
He shrugged, "very well," and poured himself a mug.
"He was supposed to marry me." She ranted. She wasn't talking to Sesshoumaru anymore, merely rambling to herself. She could see it all happening again in slow motion, the way Inuyasha had looked down at her, the hate in his eyes. "I'd almost had him, too. What went wrong…?"
Sesshoumaru shook his head from across the room and she could see the way his face contorted into a look of dismissal. He though her crazy, but she wasn't. She wasn't crazy, she'd just… she'd been in love. She and Inuyasha had loved each other. They'd shared moments he could never share with anyone else. They'd created something together.
That's right, the child. The child she'd carried. She could feel it, even now, growing in her stomach. Becoming real, more and more, until it was real. She felt the child's weight, felt it kick in her womb.
"There's the baby to think about," she whispered.
She watched as Sesshoumaru froze, the sugar packet he had been carefully tearing open suddenly rived into tiny pieces and scattered sugar specs across his hands.
"Kikyou." He replied in what he probably thought was a calm, soothing voice. "There is no baby."
"Oh, there's a baby." She held an invisible protruding stomach. "Inuyasha doesn't want the baby, but the baby will be mine." She started to rock on the couch, her head shaking. "He'll have to take accept it. Inuyasha and the baby will be mine."
"Kikyou, you are-"
She felt rage. Rage so intense her head might explode. She wanted to kill him, be damned the child in her stomach! She wanted Sesshoumaru dead. Dead!
She blacked out. When she came too, Kikyou discovered she was restrained, on a bed in the middle of a white room. She knew this room, she'd been here before.
.o0o.
Inuyasha stepped into his fathers' giant, well-furnished office and shut the heavy wooden doors behind him. Immediately, he felt intimidated, and it wasn't because his father had called him in. The room itself was intimidating, decorated in golden-brown hues, complete with large, open windows that allowed sunlight to filter in and light up the vast space. A desk sat in front of the widows, impossibly large, and the giant, black leather chair behind the desk was turned out towards the window, a silhouette against the bright afternoon sun.
He opened his mouth to speak before he noticed the phone cord that ran from the front of the chair to the cradle on the desk and sighed impatiently, turning his head to take in the office as a whole, bored.
He didn't like it in here. Maybe it was because his father spent so much time cooped up in it, but it was more likely because it was the room Inuyasha always had to visit when he'd done something wrong. Something embarrassing. Something stupid.
That was today's case as well. Inuyasha hadn't been called in by his father for nothing. He'd screwed up somehow again. Now if he could only remember…
"Well, there's nothing I possibly could have done." Inoku Kobun said from behind the chair, pausing to hear the reply. "That's fine, I assure you. Yes, yes, of course." Another pause. "Alright, yes, I'll discuss it with you at tomorrow's meeting."
His father didn't say goodbye, just swung around and slammed the phone down onto the cradle, looking less than pleased.
Inuyasha cleared his throat, announcing himself. "Father, you wanted to see me?"
Inoku's head shot up abruptly. A small smile spread over his face and he swept his arm over his desk. "Ah, yes my son. Have a seat."
Inuyasha obeyed cautiously, sitting across from his father, the giant oak wood desk between them. He couldn't help but be a little suspicious of the abrupt change in Inoku's mood. As a second thought, he straightened his tie so he wouldn't hear any crap from his old man about his appearance.
"You look horrible." His father spoke in a light tone. "Your suit is wrinkled, where the hell have you been?"
So much for trying to escape a lecture. Inuyasha stifled a growl and smoothed out his lapel with the palm of his hands. "I've just come from a meeting with the people from Clearwater Support Homes. They want me to launch their campaign for building new shelter houses."
Inoku glared at his son. "Yes, I'd heard they were considering asking. You jumped aboard, right?"
Inuyasha hesitated, which was a mistake, and answered rather lamely. "Well, I'm not so sure…"
His father was quick to reply. "Not so sure about what? Are you not aware of what good this could do for the campaign? The polls would shoot through the roof in my favor."
"I know father, but-"
His face flushed red. "'But' is not a word you want to use discussing this matter. You will do the ads. Every commercial, every print ad, every speech, are we clear?"
"I'm twenty-two years old, you can't just-"
Inoku stood, leaning aggressively over his large desk and pointed a finger at his son. "While you live under my roof unwed, I can tell you to do damn well whatever I want you to do. You'll do well to remember that."
Inuyasha had leaned back slightly, but he dare not look away from his old man's eyes. It wasn't that he was scared of his father, but he was well aware of his strength and power, and while Inuyasha was damn strong and fast himself, he was still only hanyou and his father would crush him if he stepped too far in the wrong direction.
Inuyasha was taller than Inoku, at six-foot-three he towered four inches taller to be exact, and his muscles were more defined to be sure, but Inoku had a strength that didn't just come from body mass. It was a strength that Inuyasha respected, although disliked all the same.
Inuyasha's mother loved to talk about her husbands' strength, as well as his kindness. Kindness that Inuyasha rarely saw himself, but which she insisted was there. She also liked to talk about how his greatness had been split up in two extreme ways between his two sons. Inuyasha's half brother, born of another youkai, had received Inoku's strong, silent will, his cold demeanor, and his cunning strategizing ability, which had helped in making Inoku such a great politician.
Inuyasha, on the other hand, had received Inoku's strong, stubborn will, his handsome looks, and his raging temper that flew out of control every now and then.
Inuyasha heaved in a sigh as his father sat back down, and nodded his head. "Fine. I'll do the Clearwater campaign."
"That you will. But there is another matter at hand that I wish to discuss with you." He placed his elbows on the desk and folded his fingers, peering at his son over his hands. "You are soon to be twenty-three years old, and I am not getting any younger. Soon you will have to take over my line of business."
Inuyasha couldn't hold back his snort of sarcasm. "Are you serious? You're a hundred years old. You'll live to be another three hundred, you're not going anywhere soon."
Inoku growled in warning. "Do not push your luck, boy. Who says I have to be weak with age to retire? I want to get out of this business within the next fifty, and you will be the one to take it over."
"Can't Sesshoumaru-"
"Sesshoumaru, while I do not necessarily agree with his carrier choice, does run a legitimate line of work. You, however, still laze around my house as if you were five, the only work you do are ads for sports clothing and appearances on television series. I have to force you to do anything charitable, and you fight me the whole way through!"
"And I'm not married."
"And you are not married!" He stood in rage and paced behind his desk.
"Sesshoumaru is married, with children on the way! He is stable and does not embarrass me!"
"He's thirty!"
"He did not embarrass me when he was at your age!" He leaned over the desk again, but this time grabbed onto his son's tie and pulled him dangerously close to his face. "You will listen to me, and you will listen well. You will find a woman to marry. At this point, I do not care if she is full demon or mere human, but you will find one and you will marry her, and you will do it by your next birthday, or so help me, I will disown you and you will spend the rest of your days penniless and homeless! Let us see if the ladies want you then!"
"Inoku, dear, what are you doing with my baby son?"
Inoku's face drained of color, and he let go of his son's tie, looking across the room at Inuyasha's mother, who stood in the doorway. She was dressed in her usual, elegant black dress suit; her medium length hair tussled around her shoulders and shopping bags hung at her hips.
"Ah, hello dear, Inuyasha and I were just having a little talk."
"So I can see.' She answered, and walked into the room, gracing her husband with a hug before turning to Inuyasha and smiling.
Inuyasha grinned back up at her. "Hi mom."
"Hi beautiful, how's my little boy?" She cooed and ruffled his hair as she sat down on the arm of his chair, giving him a half-hug. "Is daddy pushing you too hard?"
"Mom, I'm not twelve." He growled, not letting on that he wished he still was once in a while. Although it was a little embarrassing that his mom babied him so much, she was still the one person he could say he loved flawlessly.
"I know, hon. My baby's all grown up." She gave a typical motherly sigh and leaned into his shoulder. "Did your father ask you to get married yet?"
"He mentioned it."
Inoku grunted.
"Well you should listen to him, honey. Your father cares about you, he just wants to see you happy. Besides, I think a woman would calm you down a bit."
"Mom, I don't need to calm down, I need to go get some work done." He stood from his chair and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. More so than work, the conversation was getting a bit too personal for his liking. He bowed slightly to his father. "If that's all you needed me for-"
"Not so fast, we are not done yet." His father jumped up and rounded the desk, passing his wife, and stood looking up into Inuyasha's face. "Listen and listen well. You will find a girl to marry by your next birthday, or the consequences will be dire. Understood?"
Inuyasha had to bite his tongue. "Yes sir."
"Good." Inoku turned his back, walking back to his desk as Inuyasha spun on his heel and headed heatedly towards the door. "Oh, Inuyasha, let me give you a possible solution."
Inuyasha glanced back at his father over his shoulder, containing within him pure hatred he felt towards the man.
His father smiled a rather evil smile. "There is always Kikyou to consider."
.o0o.
"The bastard, why doesn't he just roll over and die?" Growled Inuyasha.
"Like a dog?" Miroku asked, hiding a snicker behind his lips.
After the awkwardly frustrating chat with his father, Inuyasha had stomped right on down to the front entryway where Miroku's security desk was located, and proceeded to rant about it. "Shut up," was the only words he could think to reply.
Miroku was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him, glancing every-so-often at the multitude of screens that covered the gigantic property.
"You know what pisses me off more than anything?" Inuyasha continued, his long nails tapping annoyingly on the marble countertop.
"What?"
"He's been thinking about this whole stupid plan for a while! Like, since me and you-know-who broke up."
"Kikyou?"
He glared. "Don't speak her name out loud."
Miroku let out a snort, accompanied by an eye roll. "Okay, Harry Potter."
"You're funny." Inuyasha retorted dryly, clenching his fists. "You wouldn't be laughing if you were in my shoes, asshole."
Miroku grinned, sneaking a glance at a particular monitor that showed the classical room, where Sango was currently on screen vacuuming the large rug. "No, my friend. You see, if I were in your shoes, I'd just make Sango marry me and be done with it."
"Yeah, she'd love that."
"I've got personality, Inuyasha. The ladies can't keep their hands off me."
"No, you're a pervert, Miroku, and that's why the ladies – especially Sango – can't keep from slapping you across the room." He started pacing in front of the desk. "I don't want to discuss your gross sexual habits; I need to figure out a way out of this."
Miroku shrugged and glanced at the monitors again. Sango had left the classical room. "A way out of what? Just find another bimbo to parade around in front of your father and be done with it."
"That's the problem, he wants a full on engagement and marriage, not just some cover up. He even told me I should go back to Kikyou if I didn't find someone else." Inuyasha gave an involuntary shudder.
"Yeah, we don't want her around again." Miroku agreed, dropping his feet from the desk and sitting up straight. "So why don't you find someone, then?"
"Miroku, have you seen the females I'm fucking surrounded by?
Miroku shook his head. "I know what you think, but some of them are quite smart. They can't possibly all be complete idiots."
Inuyasha shot a 'wanna bet?' glance towards his friend and clicked his tongue in annoyance. "No, the rest of them are crazy. Like her."
"Inuyasha, no female alive is as psychotic as Kikyou."
He groaned. "It's true."
Miroku chuckled and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Well, will it really be so bad to marry a bimbo? I mean, it's not like she'll be hard to deal with. She'll be easy enough to order around, right?"
Inuyasha made an indifferent shrug.
"And if you choose right, you'll have awesome sex."
"Miroku. I just can't spend the rest of my life married to a girl who listens to bubblegum pop and talks about nothing but how good-looking I am."
"You are rather good looking."
"I just…" He paused, ignoring Miroku's comment and leaning against the counter top. He lowered his lids half way and seemed to stare out into the distance. "I just want to find someone that won't drive me absolutely insane. I don't even need to love her; I just need to be able to stand her."
For the first time in a while, Miroku noticed how worn Inuyasha actually looked. His friend rarely showed such personal emotion other than rage, jealousy and annoyance, and it was a nice change to see his vulnerable side for once. Of course, he'd never call him out on it, but it was nice to see that his best friend was human, just like he was. …Or half human, anyway.
He had the sudden urge to help Inuyasha out for real.
"The only normal female that takes one step into this place is Sango." Inuyasha was saying, rambling on still about his female dilemma.
"Why don't you marry her then?"
"Who?"
"Sango."
"I would, if she wasn't like my fuckin' sister." He replied, standing straight and stretching his arms up in the air. "Besides, if I married her, I'd be too worried about who you'd end up with." He grinned. "No one else puts up with your crap like she does."
Gods, how Miroku knew that to be true. "Well, why don't you have a ball-thingy? And invite all the lovely ladies across the land and have them fight over you? We could have our best shoe makers craft delicate heels from glass."
"What?"
"Yes. And bikini's will be required and they'll compete in a K.Y. Jelly wrestling competition. Then you'll marry whoever wins. That way your wife will not only have the cunning strategizing abilities to bring down any female who dares to challenge her to K.Y. Jelly wrestling, but she'll be strong too! Strong enough for you to wrestle with her in bed." He winked.
"What the hell are you babbling about?" Inuyasha gave him a disgusted look. "You're missing my entire point. What I'm trying to get at is even if I found a girl I could stand I wouldn't want to marry now anyway. I just don't want to get married. It's so… final."
"You don't ever want to get married?"
"Look at my brother. He's married to Kagura, and he's miserable."
"No he's not, he loves Kagura."
"No, he's got a secret plot to do her in."
"I'd say it was the other way around." He snickered.
"Whatever. I just don't want to end up like him. Or like my crummy father."
Miroku sat back in his chair and placed his chin thoughtfully on his hand. "Hmmm… Well, what if there was another way to go about all this?"
"What other way? I've got two choices: marry a bimbo or marry a psycho. Either way, I'm screwed."
"You've got a third. Be disowned and get a real job."
"Don't make me hit you." He snarled.
"Hear me out, would you?" Miroku placed his feet back on the counter. "What if we got someone to pretend to be your fiancé? We could get a professional, have her move in here, throw an engagement party, wedding rehearsals, and a wedding ceremony…" He paused to take in Inuyasha's shocked features. "Well, we wouldn't actually have you guys married, that would defeat the purpose, but we could have her run off at the alter or something. Then your father would have to forgive you. It'd at least buy you some time, right? Maybe he'll extend your deadline to your twenty-fourth birthday instead of your twenty-third."
Inuyasha didn't speak for a few seconds, but when he did, his tone was etched with disgust. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. What, did you just come up with that dumb plan right now?"
Miroku shrugged. "Yeah. But it could work. We could grab someone like that chick we saved in the slums, she was pretty."
"She was a prostitute, Miroku. A fuckin' prostitute."
"Yeah, but she was pretty."
"I'll catch something."
"Oh, she wasn't diseased."
"Says you, and you're not a doctor."
He shrugged again, and turned back to his monitors. "My plain will work."
"I'm going to take a shower." Inuyasha growled, loosening the tie around his neck. "Don't think or do anything stupid, Okay?"
Miroku watched Inuyasha's retreat down the long corridor, and – making sure the coast was clear – jumped up and darted from behind the security desk, abandoning his post to search for the one person he could convince to help him out.
.o0o.
He found her in the piano room, lightly brushing grime off a large, black grand piano with a feather duster. He stood in the doorway for a bit, watching her work, listening to her hum a little tune.
Miroku loved everything about her. The way she tied her black hair up into an elegant ponytail, the way her voice sounded as it hung in the air after every sung note, the way she wore that sexy maids' outfit. Damn Inuyasha's father for being such a pervert. Those outfits positively screamed 'come and get me.'
Loving the view of her nicely-shaped backside as she bent over to dust the bench, he knocked on the doorframe and grinned as she turned to look at who had interrupted her.
Her light expression turned dark and foreboding, and she placed her hands defensively on her hips. "What?" Her tone was not welcoming.
Miroku winced, willing himself to remember exactly what he'd done lately to land on her shit-list. Did he do something at the last party? All he remembered was leaving early with Inuyasha, and she hadn't even been there. "Hi, Sango." He replied in a sing-song voice. He needed to butter her up if he was going to ask her for anything.
"Don't you 'Hi Sango' me, you lousy piece of crap." She retorted, snarling in a good impression of Inuyasha, her narrowed eyes never leaving his face. "Don't you even talk to me!"
"But I love talking to you!" He took a few steps into the room, and she took a few back.
"Don't you come in here! Get back to work before I tell Inuyasha."
Miroku shrugged. "So tell him. I'll let him know what a naughty girl you are, Sango. I've got proof."
Her face turned bright red, probably a mix of absolute embarrassment and pure anger. "You wouldn't dare." She challenged.
"Care to find out?" He'd walked a bit further into the room, hearing the door shut behind him, his smile widening.
In a haste to place anything in between them, Sango darted around the piano, now standing a good distance away. She glowered and pointed her feather duster in his direction. "No, I don't care to find out, and don't come any closer, or I'll scream."
He shrugged. "You scream anyway. Besides, this room is soundproof." He pointed to the piano. "Get what I mean?"
Her eyes darted from the piano to the sound-proofed walls in the large room, then fell back to his face. "You're a fucking pervert."
"Be careful, Sango, you're sounding more and more like Inuyasha every day." He crept slowing around the piano himself, waiting for the moment that she would make a run for it.
And she did, running as fast as the heels of her outfit would take her, making a dash for the door. Miroku was too quick for her, though, and tackled her to the floor, turning so he received the brunt of the fall.
Sango squealed and tried to squirm out from his grasp, but he rolled her over and pinned her down, a triumphant look on his jubilant face. "Ah-ha!" He cried out. "It's useless! Surrender to me!"
"Never!" She cried out, still struggling.
He shrugged. "Then face the consequences."
"Yeah? What consequences are those?"
Miroku held her wrists down to the hardwood floor and moved them up above her head, leaning down so his face was close to hers. "I need your help with something."
Sango rolled her eyes. "This is not the right way to ask."
"Well, this is the right way to convince you." He lowered his head and nudged a sensitive part of her neck with the tip of his nose, hearing a soft gasp escape from her lips.
"What the hell do you want?" She asked, trying to struggle out from under him again as he switched his grasp so he held both her wrists in his left hand. "And don't breathe on me there!"
"I want you to help me help out Inuyasha." He moved from the lobe of her ear where he was blowing softly, and traced his thumb across her jaw line. "His father finally threatened to write him out of the will."
Her eyes rolled again, although this time it was with much more effort. He had her. "Well we didn't see that one coming or anything. What about it?"
"Inuyasha needs to find a girl to marry by his twenty-third birthday, which we all know is about six months from now, or he's penniless." He placed a light kiss on her clavicle.
Pretending to ignore his presence entirely, she tried with all her might to give a sigh that seemed nonchalant. "Well, what do you suggest we do?"
"We find a girl to pretend to be his fiancé to get his father off his back." Miroku replied, looking suggestively at her cleavage. "We'll have to pay her, but I think I know just the girl for the job. She'll just need some… convincing."
She hadn't missed his suggestive glance. "What, like this kind of convincing?!" She retorted, anger flushing through her cheeks. "Get the hell off me!"
He shook his head, and had to use more strength to keep her from squirming away as he trailed a small path from her clavicle to her chin with the tip of his tongue. "No, be quiet and let me ravage you." He ignored her snort of frustration. "And no, not this kind of convincing. This kind of convincing I leave solely for you, Sango."
"I hate you. You're a pervert."
"No you don't. And… well, yes, I am." He leaned down so his lips barely touched her own. "This particular girl lives on the streets. We ran into her when she was in a bit of trouble and helped her out." He lightly brushed his mouth over hers, and smiled as she gasped again. "I'd say she owes us a favor, and will probably be more than willing to help us out for the right amount of cash."
"Let me get this straight." She breathed into him. "You want to pay a street bum to pretend to be engaged to Inuyasha?"
"She's not a street bum, really."
"Oh really? What is she then?"
"A prostitute."
Sango paused before she answered. "A prostitute?"
He nodded.
"That's. Disgusting." She seethed. "He'll never go for it."
"Oh, he'll go for this one." Miroku moved his arm down to caress the curve of her hips. "Come on, Sango." He pressed, oozing as much lustfulness into his voice as he could. "Help me out a little here. Come help me find her and bring her back."
She shook her head. "Inuyasha will kill you."
"No he won't." He whispered into her lips before closing the gap and pressing down lightly, just enough to get a rise out of her. He moved his hand to her inner thigh and rubbed sensually, drawing circles on her skin. "Come on, help me?"
She was too breathless to speak, her chest heaving with deep breaths, her face flushed with lust. She shook her head.
"Please?" He pleaded softy, watching her eyes droop lazily in pure need. If she didn't crack soon, his plan would fail.
"Ah…" She moaned as he hit a sensitive spot on her thigh. "Oh Gods…"
"Sango…" He whispered. "Help me."
"Ah. Ah! O-okay." She stammered. "Okay, Okay, I'll help-ahh!"
Grinning, Miroku released Sango and stood, brushing himself off, and nodded down at the confused look that now graced Sango's face. "Okay, we'll head out this weekend! It's going to be fun!"
Another shade of color passed over her face as she realized what just happened. "Miroku!!! You fucking PERVERT!!!" She shouted, throwing her feather duster at him just as he darted out the door.
Her shouts followed Miroku down the hallway as he made his way back to the security desk. He snickered. Oh yeah. He still had it.
.o0o.
Kagome woke up, blinking at the bright sunlight filtering through the tattered window curtain. For a few blissful moments, she forgot what had happened to her last night. She forgot what happened to Akane, and it wasn't until she sat up in the bed and looked down to see vomit she'd missed cleaning up the night before that her memory cleared.
It was a shock to her system, and she wasn't ready for the intense depression that swept through her. She could feel her face throbbing, and stood to look at her bruised face in the mirror.
I should go to the police. She thought, although it was a thought she'd never follow through with. The police wouldn't believe her, and even if they did, what would they do when they found her attackers beaten severely? Or dead? She shuddered before pushing the image of her beaten attackers to the back of her mind, then turned and cleaned the mess she'd missed last night.
Akane was gone. To where, Kagome had no idea, and wasn't sure she wanted to know, either. Her roommate had obviously gotten up and had a small, undernourished breakfast of ramen. There was a bowl left unfinished on the table, room temperature. The electric bill lay, thrown down carelessly, next to it. She felt her stomach flip as she picked up the unopened envelope and proceeded to rip open the back, her heart pounding.
'Not more than fifty. Please, not more than fifty…' She pleated to herself as she tore out the bill and flipped it open.
"Oh no…"
Defeated, she sat down heavily on the single chair in the kitchen and placed her face in her hands, trying her hardest not to cry. She was strong, and this was just another ordeal she needed to overcome.
Filled with sudden rage at her situation, hot tears prickling at her eyes, she stood and shoved at the table, slamming it into the row of lower cabinets. She didn't stop there. Storming over to the bed, she tore down the few posters that littered the wall and picked up the few books she owned, throwing them heavily against the door.
Breathing hard, her mind a blank, she slumped down onto the tattered bed and fell back so she was staring at the ceiling fan that never really worked.
One hundred and sixty-seven dollars. One hundred and sixty-seven dollars? Only two people lived in the apartment, how could that be right?
The bill was still crumpled up in her hand, and she unwrinkled the paper and went over the details. The one night that had cost the most was then Akane had thrown a party in the apartment and had a couple people over. Kagome had made a point of being away that night, she'd slept in the church chapel down the street for warmth.
It was very possible it had been the night that made the bill so expensive, but what the heck had they been doing to use so much power?
Okay, she didn't really want to know, but this bill was sure to get their electricity shut off, which wasn't good. She was going to have to talk to Akane. Kagome was just sick of everything. The drugs, the people, the lack of money, Akane's prostitution… It was just making her lose her mind.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Kagome finally calmed down enough to close her eyes, and she drifted off into a fretful light sleep, exhausted. She didn't wake up until Akane slammed the door, announcing her arrival.
"I'm home!"
Kagome shot up in bed and blinked a few times before Akane came clearly into view. "A'kne," she yawned groggily, glancing out the grimy window above the bed. It was dark out. "What time is it?"
"Mmmm, about eight o'clock, I was just gunna take a hit, then hit the street." She passed Kagome reaching for her stash, which she kept in the bedside table, and seemed surprised when Kagome grasped her wrist. "What's up?" She asked, curious, then her brows drew together as she took in the welts on her face. "Kagome, what the hell happened to you?"
"Akane, are you sober right now?"
She smiled humorously. "Unfortunately."
"Can I talk to you?"
Akane hesitated. "Can I hit this first?"
"I'd rather you didn't." Kagome took an uncertain, deep breath.. "It won't take long, I promise."
Akane glanced nervously from Kagome's pleading eyes to the drawer that held her assumed happiness, before sitting down next to her roommate, a placid smile on her face. What is it?"
"I want out."
She looked stunned at how fast the words had come from Kagome's mouth, without reservation. "What do you mean, 'out'?"
Kagome turned fully to face Akane, her eyes pleading. "I can't stand it anymore, Akane." She said. "I feel like I'm wasting away. I feel sick all the time, I've lost so much weight my clothes don't fit me anymore and I haven't eaten for a day and a half. I'm tired constantly, and I'm actually scared to go outside." She let out a sigh, relieved to finally voice her thoughts. "I want out."
"Out? Kagome, what-"
"You're on some type of drug all the time, Akane, and because of it we've got no money. We can't pay rent. You see this bill?" She waved the paper in front of Akane's face. "One hundred and sixty-seven dollars for this month's electricity. What are we going to do when we've got no heat? What happens when the water is turned off next? Then when we get evicted? Where would we go? What would we do?"
Akane's mouth hung agape, staring at Kagome. "Well… I have friends we could-"
"Akane, I'm not staying with your drug-addict friends, I'm not comfortable around them." Kagome stood and paced in front of her roommate. "You have to understand, I don't want to do this anymore."
"You've only been out once, Kagome, give it time." She smiled sympathetically. "I know the first time doing it is hard, I really do. But it gets easier, I promise."
Kagome shook her head violently. "No, you don't understand, I didn't, I mean…" She stumbled on her words, trying to find the right ones to explain. "I didn't get paid."
"You mean some jerkwad jacked off and ran?"
She ignored the question. "You have to understand that I can't 'give it time.'" Her voice became more emotional. "I don't want to end up dead. I'll have to find some other way to make money, but I won't be doing that anymore.
Akane looked thoughtful for a second. "Well, I've been thinking about buying into selling powder. It's good money, easy, and no sex involved unless you want it." She grinned.
"I don't like that stuff, I don't want to be reliant on it."
"No, you don't want to use it either, I care about you too much to let you even try it, but you can sell it without using."
After another headshake, Akane placed her hand up to her forehead. "I know it sounds bad Kagome, but look at me. I know I've got an addiction, but the whole sex thing?" She bit her lip. "It gets easier with time. I've never been attacked, I've never been forced to do anything I didn't want and I've never been threatened. People make this business out to be far worse than it really is."
"No, Akane." Kagome kneeled in front of her friend, placing her hands on the girl's knees. "No, I was attacked."
Akane was taken aback. "What? When?" she gasped.
"Last night."
"Are you kidding me? Kagome, why didn't you say anything?! Did they do this to you?" She gestured towards her face.
"Yes." She shook her head. "I got home and you were asleep, and I was so exhausted that I passed out. And then you were puking all over yourself, and you were so sick, I just made sure you weren't dying, when could I have told you?"
"Kagome, what happened? Were you held up at gunpoint or what?"
"No, they me up and tried to rape me. I tried to fight them but they were too strong, I couldn't hold them off."
"Oh my god, Kagome!" She stood, pulling Kagome up with her. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there!"
"It's not your fault, Akane, don't feel guilty about that."
"But wait," she pushed Kagome out at arm's length; "you said tried. They tried to rape you?"
She nodded. "They tried. I'm not too sure what really happened, I passed out a couple of times, but I think someone saved me."
"Saved you?"
"Yeah, it was so strange." She sat back down on the bed, Akane following slowly after her. "I woke up and every one of them was unconscious and bleeding terribly. Some were probably dead." She rested her face in her hands, trying again to block the gruesome image. "I ran from there as fast as I could move."
"You totally lucked out, you know." Akane said with awe. "Most girls in the business don't survive attacks like that."
"That's the problem, Akane, I know how lucky I was, and I don't want to push it again." She shivered. "I'm so scared, I'm afraid to step outside. I keep seeing the faces of my attackers. I can't take it anymore. I won't able to make any money, I won't be able to get another job."
This was true. Kagome didn't want to go outside. Her body refused to let her even open the door. "This isn't working for me, Akane, I can't do it anymore. The whole reason I'm trying to raise money in the first place is to break my brother out of the orphanage, but with your coke habit and my refusal to work, how the hell am I going to do that?" She faced her roommate again, placing their hands together, her eyes making direct contact. "Can you understand where I'm coming from? This," she opened the drawer, revealing the cocaine, "is costing both of us, not just you. You need to get off it so we can pay rent." She paused then added: "We don't have anything we can pawn."
For some reason, the last sentence stroke a humor chord in Akane, who started to giggle. It was a lame, but contagious giggle, and soon Kagome was giggling right along with her.
"Well, don't pawn the clothes off your back!" Akane laughed, holding her stomach. That shot them into more laughter, and it last a good while. After a few minuets, they calmed down, and Akane placed a reserved look on her face.
"You're right, Kagome." Akane nodded. "I need to get myself off this stuff. I've tried a few times, but it never stuck. Maybe I can kick it this time around."
"That's good to hear." Kagome shrugged. "I guess I'll just keep looking for a job. I- I'll try to go outside tomorrow, I guess."
"What kind of job will you be able to do? The economy isn't the best, you'll be lucky to get anything at all."
"I don't know, Akane. I just can't go back out on these streets anymore." She looked up into Akane's eyes, determination hardening them. "But I promise that I'll find something."
Reassured, Akane stood and opened the drawer containing her stash and grabbed the small bag of cocaine, along with a small, square mirror, a razorblade, and a small straw. She held it up in front of Kagome's face. "I'm just going to take these and dispose of them."
Kagome nodded, the first big, genuine smile Akane had seen from her in a while. "Okay." She clapped her hands together. "And Akane?" She added, as an afterthought.
Akane had been half way to the door, and turned her head over her shoulder to answer. "Yeah?"
"Thank you so much. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for you."
Akane shrugged. "Don't mention it. You saved me also." She held up the bag containing the cocaine and winked. Then she opened the door and was gone.
.o0o.
Akane shut the apartment door behind her and inhaled in a great, big, breath of air. She headed down the hallway and into the stairwell, kneeling on the stairs, where she tore open the bag of white rocks and proceeded to chop it up onto the small mirror with the razor.
She was focused. Determined. The talk with Kagome had been hell for her, and she'd been using every inch of self-control she had not to tell her to shut up and then grab the drugs and run.
Once the powder was chopped fine enough, she took out the small straw and closed her left nostril while placing the tip of the straw in her right and breathing in. She drew the straw even with the white, powered line and inhaled her source of life.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then euphoria hit her and she stretched out, forgetting about the bag of goodies on the stair at her side. She let out a sharp bark of laughter. She laughed at how stupid her roommate was, at how anyone could possibly believe she could get herself off such a great thing. How Kagome could possibly think Akane could achieve such a feat.
And then depression hit her full-force, and guilt ran through her body. No matter how naïve Kagome was, Akane still thought of her as a younger sister. She still loved the girl.
But Kagome didn't understand how hopeless Akane's life had become.
Akane would never be able to break her habit.
And she would surely bring Kagome down with her.
.o0o.
Dun, dun, DUN!!!! Oh, the drama! What will happen to Kagome? To Inuyasha? To Akane?!! What's with Kikyou and Sesshoumaru? Sango let's Miroku fondle her? And where the heck is Souta?
Just a few questions I might answer in the next chapter. Or not. :D We'll see.
Here you are, spiffed up and re-edited on 1/12/09. Enjoy, and please review!
27 pages of fanfictiony-goodness!
~SugarRos
