Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
A/N: Prompt – N/A. I had a hard time writing this one…this story is turning out to be a LOT tougher than I imagined it would be. That's why it's taken me so long to update. I didn't want to put out something half-assed just for the sake of meeting a deadline.
Furusawa Naraku had been told numerous times through his childhood and youth that he must be some kind of imp from the depths of hell. Few of those people had known the extent of impishness and the precise layer of hell it derived from, however. It hadn't stopped him from raising their speculations. He hated disappointing his detractors. Everything they demanded of him, he provided.
Everything except the clear difference between fact and fiction. It was the chief reason why he had been allowed to get away with pretty much anything during his brief time on earth. Getting a straight answer out of him wasn't worth the cost of an extended stay in a straitjacket, as everyone who knew him was fond of reiterating.
Who was "everyone"? Naraku decided it mattered little. The important thing was seeing how long it would take for the lovely little thorn in his side to join the "everyone says" list.
He suspected it would take a while. Her tenacity was legendary, after all, and he had witnessed it firsthand. Consequently, he appreciated that she was trying to converse him into revealing his agenda instead of threatening him with something sharp and sparkly with reiki. He made a mental note to thank Mrs. Higurashi for imposing a time-out and insisting they talk their issues out instead of letting her daughter behave like a common hooligan with zero sense of hospitality.
So there they were, sitting beneath the mighty boughs of Goshinboku – Kagome must have been trying to shame him into answering honestly by reminding him of that awful Inuyasha's plight. He gave a mental snort. Guilt was something he never indulged in.
He sighed inwardly, such a peaceful, romantic setting gone to waste. They could have been trading autobiographies and taking the first step towards matrimony, but so far conversation had consisted of Kagome inventing ways of asking him how he remained alive. So far they had covered the scientific, the fantastic and the unrealistic. He hoped that it would end at possessed baboon fur, but Mr. Hope wasn't listening.
"You're a zombie, then."
He forgot whatever bit of flirting he'd been preparing in retaliation and blinked at her.
"You know. Ugly, slimy, brain-obsessed, undead critters. Haven't you seen Night of the Living Dead?"
He was saved from answering that when Mrs. Higurashi interrupted them with a smile. "You two must be getting along quite well! Now, I hate to break this up, but it's getting quite close to lunchtime. You'll stay, Furusawa-san? It'll give you two more time to get acquainted and make a decision."
Judging from his soon-to-be fiancée's expression, she hoped he'd develop food poisoning later. But she didn't immediately object, so he accepted the invitation with alacrity.
"Excellent! Is there anything in particular that you'd like? I haven't cooked yet…"
A slow, disarming smile bloomed on his face. "Brain, please."
"Su..err..what?"
"I expect it'll be the perfect dish for me, if what your daughter says is any indication," he clarified sweetly.
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