Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any songs

This was an extremely long chapter, but I found out a way to cut it into two so now you have two moderately long chapters. It only took forever, but it's finally here. Please enjoy

How did I find the song for this opening? I googled songs about hating your job and when I went to look up one of the songs I actually found this one and I was completely shocked by the music video—did not see that one coming—but the lyrics fit, so that's how I found this song. Google has all the answers.

Confessions of a Band Camp Geek

I hate my boss

I hate my coworkers

I hate my job

-JbDubs "I Hate My Job"

Confession 8: I hate kitchen duty

Six o'clock in the morning is truly an ungodly hour— especially to have to wake up at. In the time it took me to walk from Kiyoko to my bed, I had somehow managed to actually set my alarm and now The Circle of Life was waking me up before the sun even rose. Ridiculous.

I turned the alarm off before any anti-morning people (AKA Aimi) woke up and rolled over to the edge of my bed. Climbing down the ladder looked like too long of a journey to take at six in the morning. I think I stared at the floor for a full ten minutes before I found the strength to move down the ladder.

When I reached the bottom, I turned around to see Aimi staring at me with her sleepy eyes, not blinking.

"Are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

"You're really going to regret all those tattoos thirty or forty years from now," Aimi mumbled, finally blinking. "They're going to look bad on wrinkly skin."

"It's pen."

Aimi squinted. "Right. Well, that's not good either. Ink poisoning is the number one killer in Japan."

"I think you should go back to sleep because I'm pretty sure that's wrong."

"I wouldn't be up in the first place if someone hadn't set an alarm on their phone. The sun's not even up!" Aimi hissed.

"I got kitchen duty," I mumbled. "Kiyoko caught me coming in."

"I told her you were in the art cabin."

"That's not good." I turned around to see that Sango had somewhat joined the world of the living. She still looked half asleep. "I told her you were at the lake."

"I said you were at band practice," Rei added, waking up too.

Well, no wonder I got caught.

"Maybe you guys should have thought to get your stories right."

"Maybe you should have stayed on the fucking camp grounds," Aimi argued. "Really, a walk on the trails would have been equally as romantic as writing on yourselves. Probably better because you wouldn't be killing yourselves with ink poisoning!"

Sango's brows furrowed. "What?"

"She's tired." I grabbed my stuff for the shower and draped my clothes for the day over my arm before I picked my phone up, too. "Well, since you three failed to keep me out of trouble I have to get up this early for the rest of the week. Maybe next time you guys can get it right?"

"Oh," Sango started, sitting up in her bed, now fully awake, "don't you dare pin the blame on—"

"I must get going before I'm late for breakfast duty and I get in even more trouble," I cut Sango off and I hurried out of the cabin, fearing that any more of my input would potentially endanger my well being. "Bye!"

I was only one there when I made it down to the showers and I put my stuff in one of the cubbies provided near the entrance then grabbed my phone and called Inuyasha.

He picked up right before the phone had a chance to send me to voicemail. "I love you Kagome, but I may kill you if you ever call me again this early in the morning."

"What, no congratulations on making it to your cabin alive, I was so worried your counselor would kill you and throw you in the haunted lake?" I scoffed. "And I thought you were a nice and caring boyfriend."

"Kagome, I just got home an hour ago and I had this great plan to sleep until three in the afternoon and you're currently ruining it."

"Sorry," I apologized. Considering he did drive all the way up here just to see me, he deserved an apology because, this is an ungodly hour. "But, predictably, I did get caught last night and I'm on kitchen duty which requires me to get up at six."

"So you called me to share your misery?"

"Surprisingly, no. I have to take a shower which means I'm going to have to scrub all this ink off my skin so I need to tell you all the songs you wrote on me for the playlist."

"Couldn't you have just written them down?"

"No, I don't have the time." Inuyasha groaned. "Hey, you were the one who started writing on me so you'd have an excuse to call me. You should be more careful about what you wish for." There was silence on Inuyasha's line. "Do you want me to start reading them off now?"

"I literally can't open my eyes right now. Just take pictures of yourself and send them to me."

"…That sounds so wrong. Seriously Inuyasha, that is disgusting. I have way too much respect for myself to ever—"

"Calm down, Ms. Self-Righteous," Inuyasha cut me off. "I didn't ask for you to send me naked photos, just take photos of where I wrote on you. I didn't write anywhere inappropriate."

"Oh. Right. In my defense, you know I'm pretty stupid this early in the morning."

"I do remember. But are we good now? Crisis averted?"

"Yeah, we're good. I must thank God for giving me such a smart boyfriend." I think Inuyasha caught my sarcasm because he snorted. "I'll let you go back to sleep now."

"Bye Kagome. I'll see you next week."

"'Kay. Bye."

I hung up the phone and then went to the camera and bunched my pajama shirt up to my chest and looked at myself in the mirror. This is weird. Albeit, it's not at all a nude picture and it's not like Inuyasha is seeing my stomach for the first time considering he did write on it, but it still felt weird.

But I also don't have time to sit down and write everything that's on my skin down and I really want that playlist for our future road trips, so I pushed the awkwardness to the back of my mind and snapped my picture before turning around and snapping a picture of the few songs Inuyasha had scrawled across my back.

I was in the middle of trying to get the pant leg of my pajamas to go all the way up so I could get my entire leg done in one shot when my phone vibrated on the counter and I reached over to see who had sent me a text. It was Inuyasha.

Inuyasha: Nice abs.

I rolled my eyes. Idiot.

Me: I thought you were going to sleep.

Inuyasha: the thought of getting all these revealing pics from you kept me up for just a bit longer.

Me: Perv.

I finished taking pictures of all the songs that had been "tattooed" into my skin then hurried to strip and hop in the shower before I was late for kitchen duty; the cooks are just as punctual as Kiyoko and Ms. Fujimoto.

I was in the shower for what had to be twenty minutes, attempting to scrub the pen off my skin but it wouldn't come off. What the hell? It was pen, not permanent marker, but it still stuck to my skin like glue. After I scrubbed until my skin was raw and pink and saw that the blue ink-y remains were still there, I just gave up. There's nothing long pants and a long sleeved shirt can't hide so I'll just go back to the cabin and switch clothes.

I got out the shower in a rush, putting on the clothes I dragged with me quickly, and then I ran back to the cabin where I would change into clothes that hid my "tattoos". The run back to my cabin was a workout since I decided to shower by the lake so I came in breathing kind of loud.

"Could you breathe any louder?" Aimi groaned into her pillow as I opened up my trunk. "You sound like a stampeding herd of elephants."

"Sorry," I apologized, not stopping my search for jeans and a long sleeved shirt. If I even packed any—considering I was at summer camp, I doubted that I actually packed any fall weather clothes—they were most likely all the way at the bottom of my trunk if I did pack them.

"You're back kind of early." Aimi slowly turned her head to look down at me. "Did they let you off for good behavior?"

"No, I actually need to change. Yes!" I pulled out a pair of jeans and found my swim team shirt buried right beneath it. Aimi glared at me for my outburst and I gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm actually running late." I motioned to my skin. "The ink wouldn't come off."

"It seems like I was right about the ink poisoning."

"Not really." I pulled off my shirt and replaced it with my swim shirt and shimmied myself into my jeans. "I have to go, but I'll see you… later." It hadn't been confirmed exactly how long my kitchen duty would last considering the kitchen does cook all day. Oh god, what if I'm there the entire day?

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Aimi was already nestling back into her covers, preparing to go back to sleep. Lucky bum. "Just don't be too late and get yourself extended kitchen duty for bad behavior."

"Don't jinx me."

~0~

The kitchen was already alive and bustling when I finally walked through the swinging doors. After a man pushing a large cart filled with trays rushed past me and almost ran over my foot, I decided it would be best to stand to the side and wait for somebody to tell me what to do. My feet are too precious to be ruined by a giant cart.

The kitchen was all silver and white with stainless steel appliances everywhere. In the middle of the room there were four large stoves clustered together to form a square and a large oven fan hanging over all four of them. There was a long table beside the stoves that was covered in ingredients and cooking materials. The cooks were all flipping pancakes or French toast or scrambling eggs or frying sausages. One woman was stirring a big pot of what I think was grits, stepping back every time it popped.

"You there!" I turned around at the sound of a woman with a deep voice calling my name. "Are you Kagome?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You're late." The woman walked closer to me so she didn't have to shout over the all the noise to be heard. She had black hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail and wore the fancy, poofy chef hat so I assumed she was the head chef. She looked down at the watch fastened around her wrist. "I was expecting you twenty minutes ago."

"Well, I had to go to the showers by the lake because they have hot water so that's a pretty long walk from my cabin, and then I had a really hard time scrubbing all the writing off me from last night, which is why I'm wearing jeans and long sleeves right now, and even before that I had to—"

"When people are late they make up for it by doing work," the lady cut me off, "not by talking. There are no excuses for tardiness."

Since when was this school? "Sorry."

"Apologize later." The woman turned and started walking away briskly and I hurried to follow her. "We're running behind this morning and I need you to get right to work on rolling the silverware for the campers or else they're going to be eating with their hands." We walked past a small room with a large sink and a hose where two men were washing off trays and throwing dishes into either one of the three dishwashers located in the back of the room and then turned into a small office off the right.

"Alright, Akira can show you how to roll the silverware," the woman said, pointing to another camper who sat at a table with her back to us. "When you're done with that just find me and I'll tell you what to do next." The woman was halfway out the door when she turned around again, having remembered something. "I'm Chef Cook, by the way."

"Chef Cook?" I grinned. "So cooking was pretty much in your blood then?"

Cook's face was flat. "Get to work."

"Tough crowd," I mumbled to myself as Cook hurried out the door. Or maybe my jokes suck as much as Inuyasha says they do.

I walked over to the table where the girl, Akira, sat, rolling silverware at lightning speed, oblivious to my presence. "Uh… Hi?"

"There's a bin for spoons, forks, and knives," Akira said, not looking up from what she was doing or even bothering to greet me. She finished rolling up silverware in a napkin and then pointed to the three green bins in front of her. "Do not mix silverware because it will only slow us down. You fold silverware like this." She grabbed a paper napkin from the stack beside her and turned it so it was shaped like a diamond. "Knife, fork, spoon," she said, placing each utensil on top of each other in the middle of the napkin. "Then you fold up the bottom of the napkin to cover the bottom part of the handles and then you fold the napkin in half to cover all the silverware and then," she turned the napkin to the side and rolled it into a neat covering around the silverware, "you roll." She put her silverware in a bin of already wrapped silverware. "Just like pigs-in-a-blanket."

"I guess that's easy enough." Akira was already reaching for more silverware as I pulled out the chair beside her, moving three times faster than she was when she showed me how to fold it. "Do we really have to move that fast though?"

"The trick is to finish before the guys bring in freshly cleaned silverware because then you'll just be stuck doing this shit all day." I grabbed a napkin from the stack that was beside my working area. "And I'm already behind since you were late so I've been pulling your weight and I'll be damned if I spend all morning rolling fucking silverware because of you."

"Okay…" I grabbed some silverware and started rolling. "So, what are you in for?"

"I'm a second year dance scout," Akira answered easily. "Contemporary, jazz, tap, and a little hip hop."

"Oh, that's good and all, but I meant what you're in kitchen duty for." I pushed my finished set over to my right and grabbed another napkin. "I got caught breaking curfew. You?"

Akira turned to glare at me. "That's hardly any of your business."

"Okay…" I get the feeling Akira doesn't like me very much, but I'm too bored to just sit and roll silverware in complete silence. "Are you performing tonight?"

"Yeah. While music scouts are supposed to do covers, dance scouts are supposed to do tributes to famous performers so I'm going to re-do this Michael Jackson routine with my friend and…"

I never realized how boring talking about dancing could be. Watching it was usually entertaining, but listening to Akira talk, using all the fancy names for stuff I just called twirls, only gave me a headache. Of course, I didn't tell her that because she'd probably give me the evil eye, but dance talk was boring talk. I wonder if I sound like this when I talked about art… Probably.

"My friends dance," I offered after Akira finished her endless (greatly detailed) dance routine explanation. "They're not here because they didn't try out, but they probably could have made it. They're really good."

"Everybody thinks they're really good," Akira shrugged. Jerk. "What styles do they do?"

"Oh, styles. Um…" I know Rin and Ayame have told me plenty of times what kind of dance they do, but I am well known for being the type of person to forget things like that. Or not listen… "Oh! My friend Ayame does ballet." Or did ballet. I distinctly remember going to one of her recitals back in middle school.

"Really?" Akira looked at me for the first time with mild interest.

"Oh yeah," I waved off. This was the first time she wasn't looking at me in mild annoyance; I wouldn't ruin it by telling her that Ayame may no longer be doing ballet. "She wore her hair in a bun for a month when she was really intense about it."

"Wow. Kudos to her. I know a lot of ignorant people think that ballet is just tiptoeing around a stage, but it's actually a lot of work. It's complete hell on your feet." Akira shook her head as she started rolling another set of silverware. "I did that when I was younger and point is absolute hell. I couldn't take putting all my weight on just two toes so I quit. The blisters were pretty ugly, too."

"Yeah… tough stuff," What the hell is point? "I'm actually performing tonight, too." Akira raised her brow at me, a silent question. "Singing," I explained. "I actually got here on a scholarship for art, but I'm pretty good at singing too, so I signed up to perform tonight."

"Oh." All interest left Akira's eyes. "Well, good luck with that." And she went back to just rolling silverware in silence.

I'm beginning to think that Akira is a very rude person. Just because she could care less about me and my singing didn't mean she had to just completely blow me off. Really, I am two more rude comments away from writing her down on the Reasons Why I Hate Talent list.

"Speed up!" Akira snapped at me, gesturing to the silverware I was rolling. "Do you do everything this slow? God."

Now we're down to one.

~0~

Kitchen duty, I've learned, is really something that should be avoided at all costs. It sucks. I was fine with stocking the coolers with drinks, and wiping down tables and even rolling silverware, but this? This is humiliating.

"What are you just staring at it for?" Cook snapped at me (I called her Chef once and she glared at me so Cook seemed to be the more respectful name to call her. Actually, she preferred Chef Cook, but that's a bit of a mouthful). "Put it on and start loading bacon into the ovens over there."

I shrunk away from the offensive object in her hand. "Do I really have to? I mean, I'm not really cooking or anything so it's not really all that necessary."

"Do you like hair in your bacon?" I shook my head. "So put the hairnet on." Cook threw it at me before I could even start my second argument and headed across the kitchen to order more people around.

I looked down at the hairnet in my hands and frowned. This sucks. If Sango or Bank or Aimisee me in this they'll laugh about it for the rest of their lives. Nobody looks good in a hairnet and wearing one is just giving people the opportunity to laugh at you (no offense to the lunch ladies). Good God, what if Yuuki sees me in this?

I had half the mind to toss the black netted mess in the trash and just load the bacon without it on, but I caught Cook glaring at me from across the kitchen and I hurried to shove my hair into the hairnet.

"Looking good there," Akira smirked as she walked past me, carrying a box of apples to put in the fruit baskets towards the beginning of the serving line. She didn't have to wear a hairnet for that. Akira also made it on the list an hour ago, but now she's ten comments away from reaching Yuuki's level (currently, Akira is still lingering at Kikyo version 1.0).

I went to the box of bacon I had fetched from the freezer and cut through the tape and inside the box, sheets of bacon were stacked one on top of the other. I began loading sheets of bacon onto the plastic trays that were stacked up underneath the table I was working at before I carried them over to large ovens that looked more like refrigerators with multiple slots for my trays of bacon.

"It's bacon, bacon, bacon!" I said to myself, mimicking a commercial for dog food I saw once as I carried trays from the table to the ovens. I've learned that I'm the type of person who actually talks to themselves to stay entertained. "I love bacon, I love you. I love bacon, I love you. I love—"

"You're quite a bacon fan I take it then."

"Shit!" I was so caught off guard by the extra voice in my working area that I jumped two feet in the air and my tray of bacon clattered to the floor. Cook is going to kill me—Wasting the bacon like that, just because you're startled? What a nuisance!—Unless I just pick it up and put them back on the tray before she looks over here. And I'll tell all my friends to avoid the bacon today since I'm a massive screw up so they don't consume any of the germs that are contaminating this floor.

"No, you definitely shouldn't put the bacon back on the tray." I whipped my head around to look at the intruder, the whole reason I was in this mess, and found Ichiro, the "devil's spawn", standing behind me, smirking. "You were staring at the bacon really hard and I figured you were thinking about feeding the entire camp dirty food."

"Well, I wasn't," I snapped. He looked surprised at my hostility and I guess that was to be expected considering this was the first time we've met. That and I had no legit reason to resent him that he knew of, anyway; but I did have a reason to resent him: Rei. He likes Rei when Bank likes Rei and that was an issue.

"Touchy one, are we?"

I glared at him briefly, but then cleared my throat. "Can I help you with something?"

"Not really," Ichiro shrugged, and I had to admit he really did look good. God, it sucks when the best looking guy here turns out to be a devil underneath. According to Aimi, that is. "I was just checking out the riff raff that was working the kitchen this week." He winked at me. "Sexy hairnet, by the way."

"What do you want?" I demanded, only slightly turned off by his flirting. Granted, it was a bit weird and out of the blue, but at least I know Ichiro is just flirting because he's a flirt and he has nothing better to do but use his good looks to reel girls in—not that I'm getting reeled in, mind you. Ichiro is nowhere near as creepy as Hojo though.

Hojo. Damnit. I need to delete my number from his phone… Note to self: hunt Hojo down and steal his phone and delete my number. Then pray to anyone that he didn't memorize it. Oh God, what if he memorized my number! That would be freaking awful.

"I need to know where Chef Cook is, actually," Ichiro said, his flirtatious grin being replaced with a serious look. "I have a favor to ask of her."

"What is it?" I asked. I didn't mean to pry or get all in his business, but the only people I have to talk to in here are Cook and Akira (I seemed to be completely invisible to the rest of the kitchen staff) and neither seemed too fond of me at the moment and I was tired of talking to myself to stay entertained; Ichiro, the devil's spawn he may be, could make for a few minutes of good company. "Not that I'm being nosy."

"It's for a friend," Ichiro shrugged. "So, Cook?"

"Is it for Rei?" If Ichiro was getting the chef to cook something special for Rei, Bank was really going to have to step up his game. One flower wasn't going to do the trick if he's trying to compete with Adonis over here.

"Yeah." Shit. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," I shrugged. "So, why are you asking Cook to—"

"Now I remember," Ichiro said snapping his fingers. "You're one of Rei's new friends. You're in her cabin, right? I've seen you walking with her a couple of times."

"Yeah, yeah," I waved off, wanting to get back to the important stuff. "So this thing you're having Cook make; what exactly is it for?"

"You're also friends with that guy who really needs a haircut," Ichiro continued, ignoring my very important question. If some special day for Rei was coming up soon, I would need to know so Bank could get her something too. "You know, the one with the braid."

"Yeah, he's my friend," I replied, keeping my answer short. And Bank doesn't really need a haircut because without his braid, I would have no leash to stop him when I needed to get his attention. "Getting back to Rei, what—"

"Can you do me a favor and tell him to stay away from Rei?" Ichiro looked at me like this was a completely normal and rational thing to ask of someone. "She's been with enough dickheads and I don't want him added to the list."

For a second I was completely caught off guard. He doesn't even know Bank and he has absolutely no right to call him a dickhead. Bank is the antithesis of a dickhead! 95 percent of the time.

"Really, or do you not want any competition over Rei?" I smirked at the way Ichiro's brows shot up on his forehead. "Hit the nail on the head, didn't I?"

"You're pretty perceptive."

"Well, it's about time somebody noticed it."

A slow grin grew across Ichiro's face. "I actually like you. What's your name?"

"Fuwa Miki," I lied. I was Bank's matchmaker and I felt like my name should be left confidential for the time being. I'm not too sure about the significance of this, but I feel like a matchmaker is equivalent to a detective, and detectives use aliases all the time.

"Really?" Ichiro already seemed to be calling my bluff. "You don't look like much of a Miki."

"I get that all the time, but I can't help what my parents named me," I shrugged. "And there aren't even any really good nicknames for Miki either. I mean, what else could they call me? Mi, Ki, Mik? Really, nothing sounds too good, so I'm stuck with Miki. Not that I hate the name my parents gave me or anything it's just that—"

"Higurashi!"

"—it kind of sucks when people are going around saying I don't look like my name. Insulting even."

"Higurashi!"

"I mean, who wants to be told you don't look like your name? It's like saying I was a mistake. Well, not a mistake really, but—"

"Higurashi Kagome, unless you have magically gone deaf in the last five minutes turn around when I'm talking to you or I will assign you an extra week of kitchen duty!"

"Yes ma'am?" I asked, turning around and breaking character, putting on the most innocent look I could muster. Cook did not look like someone who took pity on the innocent at the moment.

I was hoping that if I didn't answer to my name Ichiro would believe I was actually Fuwa Miki who was unfortunate enough to be told by everyone she met that she didn't look like her name and she was slowly beginning to feel discouraged and resent her parents for giving her such an unfitting name. Really, I was just getting the story started. But, Cook blew that plan because there's no way in hell I'm spending an extra week walking around with this hairnet on.

"When you make a mess, clean it up." She pointed at the bacon that was still spread all over the floor. "Breakfast is in an hour and we need to get stuff done and you spending ten minutes just staring at a mess on a floor is a complete and utter waste of time." Cook threw a towel from the front of her apron at me and I caught it before it hit me in the face. "Throw the bacon in the trash, wipe up anything wet that might be left behind so no one slips, and then get back to work."

"Yes ma'am." Cook stared at me wide-eyed. "Oh, you meant now."

"For the love of…" Cook trailed off, mumbling something under her breath as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Now, Higurashi!"

In my defense, I thought she was going to leave first.

I lowered myself to my knees and started picking up the bacon, one thick slice at a time. Stupid Ichiro. This is all his fault. If he hadn't snuck in like a frickin' ghost and startled me, I wouldn't have—

"Ichiro!" I was so thrown off by the cheeriness in Cook's voice that I actually had to look up to make sure it wasn't a figment of my imagination. So it can smile. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing much," Ichiro shrugged. "I just have a small favor to ask for."

"Anything for you," Cook assured him. "What is it?"

I stopped moving and listened in extra carefully to their conversation. Finally I would know what special day was coming up for Rei and then I could get Bank to plan accordingly.

"Actually, it's supposed to be a surprise, so can we talk in your office for a second?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Come on, it's on the other side of the kitchen now. They moved it since the last time you were on kitchen duty with me."

Ichiro smirked at me as he followed Cook out of the room, "See you around, Miki."

Jerk.

I was sent back to the office to roll silverware after I finished cleaning up and loading the bacon into the refrigerator-style oven. And when I heard Cook yelling around the kitchen for people to work on the serving line, I expertly hid behind the file cabinet located in the corner of the office because there was no way this hairnet would go public; especially if it's on my head. This head gear is strictly for behind the swinging doors.

I was listening to campers file in the mess hall for breakfast and yearning to join my friends when Cook found me.

"Higurashi—"

"I really don't think I should work the serving line," I said before she had the chance to tell me what she wanted me to do. I faked a cough. "I think I caught a cold."

Cook raised a brow at me. "In the middle of summer?"

"Technically, it's more of the beginning of summer and you can catch a cold anytime, it's just more common to catch them in the winter." Cook didn't look very convinced so I faked another cough. "I just really don't want to cough on the food and spread my germs."

Cook rolled her eyes at me. "Well, it's a good thing the trash won't be affected by your so-called germs."

"Trash?"

"Yes, trash. I need you to take all the trash bags out of the trash cans and put them in the dumpster. It's right outside the back entrance to the kitchen." Cook was already on her way out the door. "And make sure you replace the trash bags in all the cans before you take the trash outside."

"Where are the—"

"Inside the cabinet over there," Cook said, actually pointing to a wall as she walked out the door, but I could just look through all of the cabinets until I found the trash bags. "And don't take all day!"

"Yes ma'am." Intimidating people like Cook really bring out my manners.

I finished rolling the set of silverware I was working on and then searched for the garbage bags before heading out to the kitchen.

Gathering all the trash bags took longer than I planned. The trashcans were those really big ones, like the ones in the school cafeteria, and that meant they held more trash and more trash made for a heavier load which does not bode well for me, a girl who is seriously lacking in the muscle strength department. I wrestled with trying to lift each bag out of its container for about five minutes each and I was out of breath by the time I did get it out. I really need to work out more.

"Sorry," I apologized when I knocked a trashcan over while trying to drag its bag out and the entire kitchen staff glared at me. "I really need to hit the gym when I get back home." I gave them all a sheepish grin when I finally got the bag out and lifted my arms pathetically. "Can't do a thing with these weak things." They all just sighed and returned to their work. You know, some people take their jobs too seriously.

I removed and replaced all the trash bags so the kitchen staff could keep throwing away whatever without hesitation and then got to work on dragging them all out the door to the dumpster, one at a time. The one upside I found to garbage duty (getting outside for some fresh air) was quickly ruined when the fact that I was going to dump trash in a dumpster hit home—I almost gagged at the smell.

"Aimi was right again," I grumbled to myself as I hoisted a garbage bag over the edge of the dumpster and let it fall in. "Kitchen duty is horrible."

That's when I felt it. The chill that ran up my spine and made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Those are my Hojo senses tingling and that means he's near which means I needed to get the hell out of—

"I guess you should listen to your friend more often then."

I was about to make a mad dash for the line of trees close to the mess hall and hide behind one of them until I could confirm that the coast was clear, but it was already too late. I need to get better Hojo senses so I could sense him then have enough time to actually hide.

"Hey, Hojo," I greeted, slowly turning around to see him sitting on the steps that lead back into the kitchen. Damn, that was my only way to escape and he blocked it. "What brings you here?" To the dumpster. Who hangs around a dumpster?

"Oh, I was just going for a walk."

"By the dumpster?"

"Actually, I had finished breakfast early and I was walking through the trees over there and I saw you coming out of the kitchen and when you went back in, I just waited around the corner until you came back out." Hojo smiled at me. "I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm surprised." But, mostly creeped out. "Well, I need to go, so…"

"What are you in kitchen duty for?" Hojo asked, not catching on to the hint that I didn't want to talk; maybe he just ignored it. So far, Hojo seemed more obliviously stupid, so I was leaning more towards the former.

"I just missed curfew by a few hours," I shrugged. "I actually think my counselor overreacted, but whatever. Despite what I think, I'm still here."

"Mmhmm." Hojo looked at me intently and I felt my skin crawl. "Were you with your boyfriend?"

"Yeah…" Why am I even answering his questions?

"He doesn't seem like a good influence," Hojo said, leaning back against the steps. "If he's getting you in trouble and all, I mean"

"And since when are you my father?" I raised my brow at Hojo and he smirked at me. Oh no, this is like flirting. My gag reflexes are starting to act up. "You know, I really have to go because Cook will have my head and Akira will hate me even—"

"Akira?" Hojo cut me off, taking a sudden interest in my new coworker who seemed to have little interest in anyone but herself. "She's working in the kitchen too? What's she in for?"

"I don't know, she's not very fond of sharing. Charming girl, really." I looked at Hojo suspiciously. "Do you know her?"

"We're… old friends." Hojo stood up from the step he was sitting on and smiled at me and I tried not to grimace as he took a step towards me and placed a hand on my arm. "I'll see you around. You're performing tonight right?"

"Yeah." I took a step away from Hojo and placed my foot on the first step. "How'd you know that?"

Hojo winked at me. "I know everything about you."

… That's not comforting at all.

I forced myself to smile at Hojo, but I'm pretty sure it came off looking uncertain and shaky. "Bye, Hojo."

I hurried up the last few steps to the kitchen and went inside, slamming the door behind me. I peeked out the window in the door to see if Hojo had left. There were two more bags of trash to dump in the dumpster, but I refused to go out until I knew for sure he—

I FORGOT TO DELETE MY NUMBER! No… And he was right there. Stupid Kagome, stupid. Stupid, stupid, stu—

"Fraternizing on the job?"

"God!" My head jerked back in surprise and I turned around to see Akira leaning against one of the sinks, staring out the window that overlooked the area I was just standing in with Hojo. "Does nobody announce when they're in a room anymore?"

"Most people aren't clueless to other people's presence like you are." Akira turned away from the window to look at me. "Take the trash out already. It's starting to stink."

"In a moment," I promised, glancing back out the window again for any traces of Hojo. "I'm waiting for someone to leave first."

"Playing hard to get?"

"No, playing I-have-a-boyfriend-and-I'm-not-interested." I turned back to face Akira. "Are we having an actual two-sided conversation?"

Akira rolled her eyes and picked up the crate of small milk cartons that rested by her feet. "Take out the trash."

"I'll get to it. Hey," Akira actually stopped and waited for me to continue. "Do you know Hojo? He said you guys were friends."

Akira glared at me. "That's none of your business, but if you must know, Hojo is an asshole." Akira started for the door that lead back into the main kitchen area. "He's the worst."

I watched Akira as she left. So it seemed like Hojo is more than just a creepy stalker. It looks like Detective Kagome is going to have to do some investigating in—

"Higurashi!" I turned around to find Cook looking at the other two garbage bags in horror. At least she always made herself known when she entered a room. "I told you to take the trash out fifteen minutes ago!"

"I know, but—"

"Take the trash out," Cook ordered through gritted teeth. She looked very scary. "Now."

"Yes ma'am."

-0-0-0-0-

So, I really have to give thanks to the awful time I spent volunteering in food services the first year I volunteered at the hospital for all the jobs Kagome can do while on kitchen duty. Thank you food services, but I will never return to that awful kitchen because I've learned how much better working in places like the hospital gift shop truly is. And this year I'm working in the emergency center at the front desk and they have coloring books. Don't forget to review! And I already wrote the next chapter so that should be coming around soon. And I think the blame can be split 50/50, actually.

~Kimiko888~

We're baaacccccckkkkkkkkkk! And we two are ever so sorry about our… really long disappearance. While 70% of the blame goes to Kimiko for always being a lazy ass and never typing anything, 30% of the blame goes to me for acquiring a life and actually doing my school work and not knowing how to balance editing in with the rest. I know, the horror; anyway, school's done, my summer camp is finished and my first week of summer has been (surprisingly) productive. Look forward to another chapter of Confessions because it's right around the corner.

~hanmajoerin

P.S-Check us out on Tumblr (hanmajoerin or kimiko888)!