{.x.o.} | Rapture's Remorse | {.o.x.}
{x| Chapter 2: Ratify|x}
"Ah! Ah!" Echoed about the typical hotel room along with each and every other moan the woman cried out as she edged closer to ecstasy with each new thrust into her. His pants only made it seem more real, but truth was, few of his clients stimulated him anymore but what did it matter? What could a high school dropout do for the same amount of cash? It wasn't a terrible deed, it was a desire everyone had—he just joined one of the oldest professions that knew how to exploited it. He made a good salary from doing so, too. He could live in a nice apartment in the epicenter of Tokyo and have some of the finest clothes, decent furniture, and so much more if only he didn't waste most of his earnings of that nasty 'need' of his.
"Uhn! Shin!" the woman he equated to a cow shouted as she arched her roly-puly-self up to him. He had quite the talent; he could get 'it' up almost on command. It made his job a whole hell of a lot easier, not to mention his other gift, the power to find the perfect pleasure spots of almost anyone so he could pound into them more to push them over the that edge.
This one, the nameless face below him, was no different.
It was a business deal, really. He had a service that was in high demand particularly for lonely woman in the midst of February. Woman that wanted to fantasize that they were loved in the amour filled month. It was a simple transaction, too. They were connected through his one and only source, they scheduled a meet at any one of the numerous hotels in Tokyo—usually a 'love' hotel, at that. He got the money first, they'd tell him what they wanted him to do in whatever amount of details they wished, then they'd have to take a shower, and the sex could begin. It lasted for however long they paid for, never a minute longer, either.
When it was all done he dressed himself, exchange the usual comments with whoever it was, and then left with cash in hand.
It was easy, it was painless. He didn't mind, generally.
"So Shin-kun," a mocking, recognizable razor sharp woman started as he walked into her 'office' without even as much as a knock. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see her waving her favorite fan to cool herself down. "She was a new client, how'd it go?"
"I think she'll be calling you again," he assured with his usual cocky edge as he shelled out her portion of his earnings.
"You are the greatest, Shin," she cooed while she counted the cash, "it's so hard to find good boys nowadays. I have plenty of girls, but not enough guys. If you have any friends—"
"Please," he ridiculed with a scoff, "you know I don't bother with that."
"Right," she laughed lightly as her pink tinted red gaze glanced up to him, "I forget how fucked up you are."
"Ha," he grunted, "takes one to know one, Kagura."
"As always, charming," she snapped back before opening her drawer and stashing her savings away, "here, you have an appointment."
"Fuck me," he muttered as he took the card she was dangling in front of him.
"I think you've had enough of that for one day," she jabbed with a rather cruel smirk.
"Bitch," he growled back only to coax another fit of laughter out of her. He rolled his liquid golden gaze before heading out only to hear her shot something crude, as usual, to him before the door shot. It was a like-detest relationship he shared with her, mostly detest, though.
Particularly on days when he had such 'appointments'.
[…]
Did anyone really read the magazines that were spewed welcomingly across the coffee tables? Sure, people picked them up, he always did, but how many actually read the words instead of glancing from the page to the people around them wondering 'what the hell's wrong with that one?', that was one of his hobbies at least. And the chairs! Why did they always have to be so uncomfortable, no matter how many times he wiggled about he could never find a way to sit without his ass ending up aching from the wait or his back stiffened.
The wait was always a bitch, too. He couldn't be certain if it was really long or if it was just the fact that he was anxiously anticipating what was to happen next. No matter how many times he had the procedure done, it never got easier. He supposed it probably went for the opposite sex, too, but shouldn't they be used to things being stuck up their 'entrances'? His thoughts didn't get far this time before his alias 'Shin' was called and he put down the magazine he was supposedly deeply interested in to go back to the examination room.
What the hell made them think that it was OK to call people from a room full of other patients into a private one only to make them wait some more? It was aggravating like hell.
It always was, every bit of it, until it was done and he was out the door, popping a few of his precious pills in his mouth as he shook off the experience again. Getting the blood drawn from his arm was nothing; he didn't even give a shit about the odd looks the nurses always gave him from all the marks that were already there. It was getting the Q-tip shoved in his dick that always bothered him, the very thought made him have to throw one more white pill from his red container into his mouth. Generally, he liked to crush them up and drink them in his coffee—it got to the brain quicker that way, it was like a lightening bolt—but he didn't have anything to crush them with nor any coffee so actually swallowing and waiting for the effects to kick in had to be done this time.
He loathed his 'let's check to make sure you're still clean' appointments his fabulous match-maker—she liked to be called—set up for him each month. She was devoted to making sure all the products she provided were in pristine condition, he was no expectation. She didn't give a shit about his drug tendency, but god forbid he get any STDs.
That was when the park across the street from the clinic Kagura paid big bucks not to give a real damn about the people she sent there—like, say, check for their real IDs—caught his attention. A little boy was player with an even smaller girl as they spun around on the mary-go-round right under an old, shade providing, tree.
He remembered those days still… he wished he didn't, the overload on unneeded—most tell him so, anyway—prescription pills didn't wash all the memories away. His brain wasn't damaged enough yet. Someday it would, that was his goal anyway.
Laughter, her little giggle that still haunted his dreams, broke out as she squatted down on the spinning toy and grasped the red poles tighter shouting all the while, "faster, Inu-kun, faster!"
He obliged, he'd do anything for her, and ran quicker before jumping onto it on the opposite side of her and grabbing on with all his might as it went around and around for an endless amount of time. He laughed along with her as the wind tore through his silver tresses and her dark locks that she nearly always had up in a ponytail.
Neither of them moved or stopped smiling until the ride ended and they tried to stumble over to each other, "I'm so dizzy, Inu-kun," she awed as she fell right on her butt.
"Me too," he mumbled before he did the same right next to her.
"Thank you for playing with me all the time, Inu-kun," she praised as she lied down all the way. "I love you."
The cry of a girl stripped him of such thoughts as his eyes fixated upon the little one who had fallen on the ground and off the ride, tears making their way out of her eyes as the boy leaped off to her aid. "It hurts, onii-san!"
He didn't bother to linger long enough to watch as her big brother comforted her like he was sure to do. He couldn't help but think about one thing, even though he'd rather not. Why did she always thank him for playing with her? It should have been the other way around… Just as he turned to head off towards his section of town he caught a man walking by in his authoritative suit give him that look—or was his mind just playing tricks on him?
Yeah, whatever, he had some deep seeded screwed up, sick thing about him. He was a monster, he got it. He was abnormal; he was disgusting, he was wrong. He knew it, he did, he was told it enough and he believed it. Why do you think he needed the drugs? They were supposed to dull it all, it was supposed to take away all of that. They were supposed to make him void.
There had to be something seriously wrong with him when his very own mother gave him that very same weary look hidden behind her watery yet somehow still loving watch.
He was probably the true bane of her existence, though she'd never admit to that.
How could a bastard child like him be joyous like any good son should be?
No, he shook his head free of those thoughts and rolled one shoulder around to loosen up as the pills finally started to dissolve in his system by the time he reached the stairs that lead to his crappy, ruin down, apartment building.
There was a girl waiting there on the steps, sitting with her chin in her hands and her elbows upon her knees on the top one. Besides the obvious fact that her clothes were too nice for anyone that lived in his neck of the woods he didn't notice anything about her or even regard her as a fellow living being while he walked up the steps to grab the front door.
"Inuyasha…?" she unsurely stated, stopping him before he even had the chance to open the gateway to his warped world. He cocked a brow and glanced down at the girl that stared up at him, "it is you!"
He had to glance about to check to make sure there was no one else she could be addressing before he warily looked back at her. Shimmering hazels met his ambers, loose waves of onyx locks, a perfect complexion, and oddly familiar features but… he was certain he hadn't any idea who she was.
Oh, lord, no, was she one of his patrons? Jesus, did another one of them follow him home? But wouldn't he remember such a pretty one? Kaguya was his best looking client by far… so he was certain that he'd recognize the girl before him. Christ all mighty, what if it was worse? What if she was a girlfriend or something of one of his clients? He's had to deal with wives and husbands once or twice… it was a nightmare to say the least.
"Do I know you?" he finally bothered to ask, "cause I don't think I do."
"I'm Higurashi Kagome," she stated as she popped up and bowed her head, "we sort of know each other but not really."
Fuck him, he was certain now… she was a pissed relation of someone he'd screwed. "What do you want?" he grunted as he opened the shabby poorly painted door that still showed hints of the graffiti that was so often sprayed on.
"To help you," she assured simply after she stepped in his way, "I'm here to stop your drug use and aid you in finding a new profession."
What the hell? He cocked his brow all the more higher as he stared at the pretty damn serious appearing girl before him, his eyes wondered about her façade before they met the object that could explain it all to him.
A plain golden cross hung around her neck, damn Christians needed to mind their own business for once. "Fuck off," he ordered as he pushed her out of his way and into his building to go up four flights of crummy stairs until he found his door, after two turns of two separate keys he was able to open the door and spin around, "I said! Go! Away!"
"No," she protested staunchly as she slid into his apartment without permission and somehow miraculously through his body barrier. "Eck… have you ever heard of cleaning?"
"Get the hell out of here!" he countered swiftly as he pushed her towards the door.
"Stop it!" She damned with a smack of his hands, "I'm here to help you! You should be more grateful!"
"I don't want your help! I don't know who sent you here but I don't need it!" He shouted right back, "this is breaking and entering, now get out!"
"It's just entering, moron," she sighed with a fold of her arms as she planted her feet firmly in the wooden floor, "I'm not leaving."
"I'll call the cops," he threatened as he pulled out his cell.
"No you won't," she mocked with a smile, one far too sweet for the tone she was producing, "you are a male prostitute, you sure wouldn't want them finding out about that. It's illegal, besides, I'm sure there are unsubscribed drugs somewhere about here, too."
Damn it, she had a point there so he lowered his phone, it was a bluff and she called it.
"What do you want?" he firmly growled once more.
"I already told you," she muttered as she leaned towards him, "I'm here to help you."
"You mean save me from my sins?" he jested as he flicked her dangling necklace, "go get yourself fucked, maybe then you'd loosen up and leave other people alone."
"How crude," she gasped as she grasped her necklace, "is this the type of thanks you give everyone that tries to help you?"
"What the hell are you?" he spat as he walked over to the container so there would be some sort of barrier between him and the invader, "Catholic?"
"Yes," she nodded after she had already walked up to it so they were just the length of the pealing countertop away from each other, "do you have something against Catholics?"
"Yeah," he grunted, "I do, now get out."
"Now that's not very fair," she pouted, "you don't even know me but you're going to judge me on the fact that I'm Catholic?"
"You don't know me and you've done the exact same thing!"
"I have not," she offensively gasped.
"Yes you have!" He emphasized with a slam of his fists upon the countertop, "ya' waltz in here and say you're a goddamn whore and a druggy!"
"You shouldn't use the lords name in vain," she instructed candidly as her fingers glanced over the golden necklace she wore, "and I didn't say either of those things, now did I?"
"Yeah, you kinda did," he stressed as he grasped his fists together, "fuck off."
"You have terrible language skills," she sighed, "you know cursing every other word makes you sound like a fool, don't you?"
"Get out!"
"No," she kept up as she moved her hand from her necklace to one of his fists, "I'm not going anywhere. Even if you force me away I'll just come back again and again. I'm not judging you, honestly, I'm sure you've had a very difficult life and that's why you are—"
"No, everything's always been so peachy," he sassed as he tore his hand from hers and walked around the counter top towards the door, "if you aren't leaving, I am!"
"Then I'll just follow you!" She warned before she ran up to his side and grasped his shoulder, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to help you, whether you like it or not. Believe me; it'd just be simpler if you agreed to it. It'd make your life a whole lot easier."
"Why!?" he ripped his shirt free of her and turned around to look her square in her unwavering hazels, "why are you doing this? Why do you give a shit?"
"Because I made a promise," she declared determinedly, "and I have every intention of keeping it."
"You made a promise, huh?" he muttered with a narrowed gaze, "let me guess, with God or something? Go screw him, why don't ya', and leave me alone?"
Her hand just flung up to cover her agape mouth.
"Jesus, you really are a religious one, aren't ya?" he couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "Idiot."
"There's nothing wrong with being pious," she mumbled behind her hand before she withdrew it, "maybe you should try it. It's helped me get through a lot of hard times."
"Yeah, I'm sure you've had it desperately difficult Miss Designer Clothes," he prodded.
"These aren't designer," she guaranteed as she pulled on her black cardigan sweater, "these just aren't from some thrift store. There's a difference."
"Ouch," he grunted, "that hurt."
"Now you are just being a jerk on purpose," she sighed, "why won't you let me help you?"
"Why would I?" He had no intention of letting people he'd known for years in so why on earth would he allow a stranger in?
She pressed her thin lips together at that, he just grinned at getting her to shut her mouth finally, with a petit sigh she wagered, "how about this? Give me a week, one week, to make you change your mind. If in that time you don't decide you want my help, if you really want me gone, so be it. You'll never see me again. But if you change your mind… I'll be here still."
He cocked a brow at her as he loosely folded his arms. He'd been approached once or twice on the run down streets of his neighborhood by some religious freaks that wished to save his damned soul but he'd never had one barge into his home and demanded to let them help him. She never mentioned saving his soul, never mentioned converting him, but those two things had to be coming, didn't they? "And what are you gonna do if I don't agree, eh? You're just a small girl, you think I'm scared of you?"
Her innocent smile shined through at that moment as she interlaced her fingers behind her back and proudly stated, "I'll call the authorities and inform them of your illegal activities. I anticipated all of this, so I have a picture of you and one of your clients that might help them along with their investigation."
No… just no way, this self-righteous girl couldn't actually have that evidence but there didn't seem to be a flake in her façade all the same… could she honestly be telling the truth? Or could she just bluff far better than him?
"One week?" he groaned, "just one week? Just seven days?"
"Yes," she nodded.
He bit his bottom lip as he glanced around, what could one week hurt? He wouldn't change his mind then she'd be gone. "You swear just one week then I'll never see you again?"
"I vow to God," she swore as she placed one of her hands upon her heart, "that if in one week you truly do not wish for my help, I will be gone. You'll never see me again and I will not call the police or anything of the sorts."
"F… Fine," he muttered in the end, it would just be one week… just one hundred and sixty eight hours.
How terrible could it be?
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much :)
Also, religion won't play a major roll per se and even though Christianity isn't a big player in Japan it'll make the story far more interesting, I assure you. I'm not pious myself by any real measure, I just find all religions (for the exclusion of Scientology, that's bullshit to the extreme) fascinating. Christianity is the one I know most about so that's why I picked it.