Chapter 2 Invitation

Kagura was perusing the latest collection at one of her favorite high-end boutiques, determined to treat herself before tackling the chaos of her charity gala arrangements later that day. She had just spotted a gorgeous, soft cashmere coat in a muted gray when another hand reached for the same piece at the exact moment.

"Excuse me," Kagura said, her tone polite but with just enough firmness to suggest she wasn't going to back down easily. "I believe I had my eye on this one first."

The other woman, tall and striking with piercing golden eyes, turned to face her, her expression one of calm authority. "I think you're mistaken. I noticed it first," she replied smoothly, her voice as cool as a winter breeze.

Kagura's lips curved into a playful smile. "Well, it seems we've got ourselves a bit of a standoff. But between the two of us, I think we can agree it'd look better on me." She gave the coat a gentle tug, her tone light but competitive.

The woman's lips twitched in what could almost be called amusement. "That's certainly one opinion. However, I think this coat has a certain elegance that suits... refinement," she said, lifting the coat slightly as if making her case.

Kagura raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Refinement? Darling, elegance practically runs in my blood. This coat would practically thank me for wearing it."

Before the verbal sparring could escalate, a nervous shop assistant appeared, wringing her hands. "Uh, I'll just grab another one from the back for you both—if we have any left in stock," she added quickly before retreating like a gazelle fleeing two apex predators.

Kagura watched the assistant disappear and then turned back to her rival, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Well, I suppose we can be civil about this. No need to have them calling security."

The other woman smiled faintly, surprising Kagura by suddenly hanging the coat back on the rack. "You're right. As much as I adore a good coat, I think I'll leave this one to you."

Kagura blinked. "Really? That's it? You're just letting it go?"

The woman shrugged elegantly, a hint of mischief in her golden eyes. "Sometimes, less is more. Besides, I have far too many coats as it is."

Kagura smirked, picking up the coat and inspecting it like a trophy. "Well, if you insist. Though, I have to admit, you don't seem like the type to back down easily."

"I'm not," the woman replied lightly. "But I find it's more amusing to let others win occasionally. Keeps life interesting."

Kagura chuckled, intrigued by the woman's sharp wit. "I'm Kagura Higurashi," she said, extending a hand.

"Inukimi Taisho," the woman replied, shaking it firmly. "Do you always find yourself competing over clothing, or is this just my lucky day?"

Kagura grinned. "Oh, I've had my fair share of battles. But today, I came here to relax before dealing with my… whirlwind of responsibilities." She paused dramatically. "You know how it is—children, work, endless social obligations. Sometimes, a boutique is the only safe haven."

Inukimi chuckled knowingly. "Trust me, I understand. The moment I think I've got a handle on things, my children remind me just how wrong I am. It's like living in a comedy show, with me as the lead character constantly falling flat on my face."

Kagura laughed. "Exactly! One minute, they're these sweet little cherubs. The next, they're plotting world domination or hiding my phone so they can 'teach me a lesson.'"

Inukimi's eyes sparkled with humor. "I once caught one of mine trying to 'upgrade' my wardrobe by hiding all my shoes. She claimed it was an intervention. Can you imagine? Me, needing a style intervention."

Kagura burst out laughing. "That sounds exactly like something mine would do. Last week, I walked into the kitchen to find them 'experimenting' by mixing flour, toothpaste, and glitter to make… who knows what! I'm still finding glitter in my hair."

Inukimi sighed theatrically. "At least glitter doesn't argue. Mine once tried to negotiate a later bedtime by drafting a formal contract and demanding I sign it. I almost gave in just because I was impressed by their legal jargon."

Kagura shook her head, still laughing. "We're clearly raising the next generation of geniuses—and troublemakers."

Inukimi smirked. "Or perhaps we're just too soft on them."

"Soft?" Kagura echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Please, I'm a drill sergeant compared to their father. He once let them skip school because they claimed they had an important 'meeting'—which turned out to be a playdate at the park."

Inukimi chuckled. "It's always the fathers, isn't it? Mine is the same. All stern and commanding in public, but at home? He's practically their accomplice."

The two women shared a knowing look before Kagura glanced at her watch and sighed. "Well, I suppose I should wrap this up. I still have a charity event to oversee, and knowing my luck, something will inevitably go wrong before it even starts."

Inukimi smiled warmly. "I wish you luck. If your event is anything like my functions, you'll need it. Perhaps we'll cross paths again—preferably under less competitive circumstances."

"Let's hope so," Kagura replied with a grin. "Though I can't promise I won't try to outshop you again."

Inukimi chuckled softly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

With that, the two women parted ways, each silently amused by the encounter. It wasn't often they met someone who could match their wit—and their resolve to survive the chaos of motherhood.

Miroku lounged comfortably in the sleek, modern conference room, his eyes skimming the afternoon's meeting notes. The investment pitch had gone smoothly, and the next project seemed promising, but his thoughts kept wandering. He glanced at his cousin, Sesshoumaru, who sat across the table, intently reviewing specs for a new engineering venture.

"Sesshoumaru," Miroku said casually, leaning back in his chair. "What's on your mind?"

Sesshoumaru didn't immediately look up, though his pen paused mid-note. After a moment, he gave Miroku a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. "There was a woman at the coffee shop this morning," he said, almost as if it were an afterthought.

Miroku's eyebrows shot up, his curiosity instantly piqued. "A woman? This is new." He leaned forward, studying Sesshoumaru with amusement. "You never mention women unless it's business-related. Spill it—what happened?"

Sesshoumaru's gaze remained cool as ever, though his fingers tightened slightly around his pen. "She bumped into me."

Miroku raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Bumped into you? How does that even happen? You're practically a force field in public."

Sesshoumaru gave a small, unamused sigh. "It was an accident. She wasn't paying attention."

Miroku couldn't suppress his grin. "And let me guess—you didn't just brush it off like usual. What did you do? Scowl at her until she apologized?"

Sesshoumaru's lips twitched faintly, his version of exasperation. "She argued with me. Claimed I was standing in her way at the counter."

Miroku let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. "Argued? With you? She must have nerves of steel. What did you say?"

"I didn't engage her further," Sesshoumaru replied flatly, though Miroku didn't miss the flicker of something in his cousin's golden eyes. "It was… unnecessary."

"Unnecessary," Miroku repeated with a smirk. "But memorable enough for you to bring it up here. Did you at least get her name?"

Sesshoumaru hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window. "The barista said it."

"And?"

"Kagome," Sesshoumaru said, the name lingering on his tongue longer than he intended.

Miroku grinned like a cat who had just found a bowl of cream. "Kagome, huh? And what else? Did you notice anything about her?"

Sesshoumaru's lips pressed into a thin line, but he finally relented. "Blue eyes. Dark hair. Midnight-like."

"Blue eyes and dark hair," Miroku repeated, his smirk widening. "Alright, give me a second."

Sesshoumaru gave him a sharp look. "What are you doing?"

"Looking her up," Miroku said nonchalantly, pulling out his phone. "You're curious, aren't you? And I happen to be excellent at internet sleuthing."

Sesshoumaru muttered something under his breath about meddling cousins but didn't stop him. Within moments, Miroku's grin widened as he scrolled through his findings.

"Oh, wow," Miroku said, his voice laced with amusement and genuine surprise. "Sesshoumaru, do you have any idea who you just ran into?"

Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued despite himself. "Enlighten me."

"Her full name is Kagome Higurashi. The Kagome Higurashi," Miroku said, holding up his phone to display a polished photo of Kagome at a corporate gala. "Heiress to the Higurashi Pharmaceuticals empire. Daughter of Kagura and Naraku Higurashi. And—wait for it—a med student working on her doctorate. That's right, she's beautiful and brainy."

Sesshoumaru's gaze briefly lingered on the photo before returning to his paperwork. "It's irrelevant."

Miroku barked a laugh. "Irrelevant? Sesshoumaru, she's exactly the kind of woman who fits into your world—wealthy, accomplished, ambitious. You can't tell me you're not even a little intrigued."

Sesshoumaru didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes. Miroku leaned back, shaking his head with a knowing smile.

"She argued with you," Miroku said, chuckling. "And yet here you are, letting her occupy your thoughts. Face it, Sesshoumaru—you're intrigued, whether you admit it or not."

Sesshoumaru didn't dignify that with a response, but his gaze drifted back to the photo on Miroku's phone, just for a moment.

"She's just a passing encounter," Sesshoumaru finally said, though the words sounded hollow even to him.

Miroku smirked, pocketing his phone. "Keep telling yourself that, cousin. But if I were you, I'd be thinking about how to make that passing encounter happen again."

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but deep down, he already knew Miroku wasn't entirely wrong.

Naraku sat at his sleek mahogany desk, the soft hum of the office providing a quiet backdrop to the steady rhythm of his fingers tapping on the keyboard. He was reviewing several important reports for his pharmaceutical companies, as he often did, when a gentle knock at the door disrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, never looking up from the screen.

The door opened to reveal Myoga, his long-time trusted assistant. The elderly man shuffled in, holding a folder in his hands.

"Mr. Higurashi," Myoga began, his voice respectful as always, "the quarterly reports from the Tokyo branch are ready for review. There are a few discrepancies that may require your attention."

Naraku's sharp eyes lifted from the screen, his mind already processing the information. "Discrepancies?" he asked, his voice calm but with a slight edge that told Myoga not to waste time.

"Yes, sir. We've had some issues with the shipment logs, and there might have been an error in the accounting records." Myoga placed the folder on the desk, leaning over slightly as Naraku flipped it open to review the details.

Naraku's expression remained unreadable as he scanned the figures. He wasn't surprised—issues like this cropped up occasionally, especially in such a large business—but he didn't tolerate mistakes. He needed solutions. "Sort it out immediately, Myoga. Get in touch with the Tokyo branch and find out what happened. I want a clear answer by the end of the day."

Myoga nodded quickly, eager to leave and address the issue. As he turned to leave, Naraku's phone buzzed, signaling an incoming message. He didn't bother looking at the screen, knowing who it was. He pressed the button to answer without hesitation.

"Kagura," he greeted, his voice softening at the sound of his wife's voice.

"Hello, darling," Kagura replied warmly. "I just wanted to double-check the details for the charity event we're hosting next weekend. Have you finalized the guest list with your partners yet?"

Naraku leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxing as he thought about the upcoming event. He was used to the balance of business and philanthropy, but this event was important—it was a chance to bring in new supporters for their charitable endeavors. "Yes, everything is in order," he said, his tone confident. "I've reviewed the guest list. It's all set. You've handled the arrangements with the catering?"

"Of course," Kagura replied with her usual assurance. "I'll take care of everything, as always. You don't need to worry about a thing."

Naraku smiled slightly, appreciating the ease with which she handled such matters. "I'll leave the details to you, as I always do."

Kagura's voice was light and affectionate as she continued, "Shippo's excited to see you tonight. He's been talking about you non-stop."

A rare, almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of Naraku's lips as Kagura mentioned Shippo. Though he seldom showed it, his heart softened at the thought of his son's uncontainable energy and infectious enthusiasm. He was proud of both of his children, but Shippo's lively spirit reminded him of the simple joys in life that often went unnoticed. "I'll make sure to spend time with him... and with you."

Kagome, however, wouldn't be home that evening—she had her clinical duties to attend to.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Kagura ended the call, and Naraku returned to his desk, his thoughts lingering on his family even as his attention turned back to the tasks at hand.

The playground buzzed with the usual after-school chaos as Shippo darted across the mulch-covered ground, weaving between climbing kids and swinging legs. He skidded to a stop near the smaller play area, where Kanna was sitting quietly on a low bench, her tiny hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Hey, Kanna!" Shippo called, brushing dirt off his knees as he approached. "Why aren't you playing?"

Kanna looked up, her calm, wide eyes settling on him. "I'm waiting for the swings." She gestured to the swing set, where two older kids were laughing loudly and showing no signs of leaving.

Shippo plopped down on the bench beside her, unbothered by the dust he was kicking up. "You've got patience, I'll give you that. But you've gotta claim those swings! Let me teach you the Shippo Method."

Kanna tilted her head slightly, her tiny ponytail swaying. "What's that?"

"Well," Shippo said, puffing up his chest, "you just walk right up and tell them to move. Works like a charm."

Kanna blinked at him, her expression unmoving. "Have you tried it?"

"Uh... not exactly," Shippo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it sounds good, doesn't it?"

Kanna gave a small shrug, her demeanor as serene as ever. "I can wait. The swings will be free eventually."

"You're way too patient for a kindergartener," Shippo teased, grinning. "But that's probably why everyone likes you."

Kanna glanced at him, her voice soft but curious. "Do they like you, too?"

"Of course!" Shippo exclaimed, leaning back with a grin. "I'm basically the king of the playground. Everyone knows me."

"Hmm." Kanna's feet swung slightly, her face unreadable.

"What? You don't believe me?" Shippo asked, leaning forward dramatically. "Come on, Kanna, you know me! I'm Shippo! The coolest third grader ever—and also the guy who taught you how to dodge dodgeballs last week."

Kanna gave a tiny nod. "You are helpful. But you're not the king."

Shippo gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. "I can't believe this betrayal!"

Kanna's lips curved into the faintest smile, a small sign that she enjoyed teasing him. "If you were the king, you'd have your own swing."

Shippo opened his mouth to argue but paused, realizing she had a point. He chuckled. "Okay, okay, you win. But just so you know, I'm working on being the smartest and the coolest—like my sister Kagome."

Kanna tilted her head again. "How will you get smarter?"

Shippo frowned thoughtfully. "That's the tricky part. I've been paying attention in class—well, sometimes—and asking Kagome a lot of questions. But maybe you can help, too!"

"Me?" Kanna asked, her voice as soft as ever.

"Yeah! You're always so quiet, like you're thinking about smart stuff. You must know things, right?"

Kanna blinked, her expression neutral. "I know my alphabet."

Shippo laughed. "Well, that's a start!"

Reaching into his backpack, he rummaged around before pulling out a small plastic container. "Hey, want a cookie? My mom packed extra today."

Kanna hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Shippo opened the container and held it out to her, revealing a handful of perfectly round cookies dotted with chocolate chips. Kanna carefully took one, her small hands barely big enough to hold it.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"No problem," Shippo replied, already munching on his own cookie. "Smart people share snacks, right?"

"Maybe," Kanna said, taking a tiny bite of her cookie. Her calm demeanor didn't change, but there was a subtle glimmer in her eyes.

As they sat together on the bench, the earlier chaos of the playground seemed to fade into the background.

"You know," Shippo said, brushing crumbs off his lap, "if I get smarter and cooler, I'll teach you all my secrets. Like how to claim swings without waiting."

Kanna looked at him thoughtfully, then tilted her head. "If you get smarter, will you still share your cookies?"

Shippo grinned. "Always."

For the first time, Kanna smiled—a real, small but unmistakable smile. "Then you'll be the king of the playground."

Shippo beamed, the compliment making his chest swell with pride. "See? I knew you liked me!"

Kanna didn't respond directly, but she handed him the last tiny crumb of her cookie as if to share it back.

And just like that, the two unlikely friends—one loud and full of energy, the other quiet and observant—sat side by side, bonding over cookies, swings, and the unspoken promise of more adventures to come.

Inuyasha slouched in his seat at the back of the classroom, his eyes wandering toward the window, more interested in the view outside than the teacher's voice droning on. His friend Koga sat beside him, the same cocky grin plastered on his face as he absentmindedly twirled his pencil between his fingers. The two had been inseparable since middle school, often getting into trouble together.

Across from them, Sota—who had quickly become the third member of their trio—was busy scribbling down notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Unlike Inuyasha and Koga, Sota was the type who lived for schoolwork. He wore thick glasses and had an unshakable focus that made him seem like a different breed of student. While his friends barely cared about the class, Sota thrived on it, and he always had a new fact or idea to share.

"So, Koga," Inuyasha drawled, nudging his friend with his elbow. "You gonna actually show up to practice for once, or are you gonna be late again?"

Koga barely looked up, the pencil still twirling in his hand. "I'll show up," he said nonchalantly, as if it was a given. "I've got this game in the bag anyway."

Inuyasha snorted. "Right. Sure, you're gonna win just by showing up."

Koga smirked, his eyes glinting with confidence. "You'll see. I'm a natural at this."

Sota, who had been quietly listening to the back-and-forth, looked up from his notebook, adjusting his glasses. "Maybe you'll win, Koga, but it's not just about being good at something. You need strategy too."

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "You always bring up strategy. Soccer's not all about planning, Sota. It's about guts."

Sota shot Inuyasha a small, amused smile. "Well, if you want to win, maybe you should start listening to me once in a while." He tapped his pen to his notebook with a quiet but confident thud.

Koga grinned and leaned back in his chair, clearly amused by the ongoing debate. "Look, I'll make sure to throw in some 'strategy' with my 'guts,' alright? But don't come running to me when you're on the sidelines."

Inuyasha just chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Inuyasha stood up, grabbing his bag with a lazy stretch. Koga followed suit, already looking toward the door, while Sota packed up his things more methodically, making sure his notes were perfectly organized.

"Alright, let's get out of here," Inuyasha said, grinning. "Next stop, trouble."

"Yeah, just try not to get us kicked out this time," Koga added, his grin widening.

Sota adjusted his glasses one last time, looking at his friends with a faint smile. "You guys might get in trouble, but I'll be there to save you from it."

Inuyasha and Koga laughed in unison as they headed for the door, already plotting their next move, leaving Sota to quietly ponder how he was always stuck cleaning up their mess.

Naraku lounged on a sleek, dark leather sofa in the living room, his phone balanced in one hand and the guest list for the upcoming charity event open on a tablet in the other. The room was pristine, with minimalist decor that Kagura had insisted on, though Naraku found it a bit too bare for his liking.

"Why am I doing this again?" he muttered under his breath.

Kagura's earlier words echoed in his mind: "It's a more personal event, Naraku. A phone call to each family adds a thoughtful touch. Besides, you're so good at charming people. Make it happen."

Charming people. Naraku scoffed as he scrolled to the next name on the list: The Taisho Family. If there was a group that didn't need his charm, it was them. Still, he was nothing if not thorough. He sighed, took a sip of water, and dialed the number.

The phone rang twice before a smooth, familiar voice answered.

"This is Inukimi Taisho," she said, her tone as calm and poised as ever.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Taisho. Naraku Higurashi speaking. I'm calling regarding the charity event my wife and I are hosting," Naraku said, his voice measured but polite. "We wanted to confirm your attendance and ensure all preferences are noted for seating or dietary arrangements."

"Ah, the charity event," Inukimi said thoughtfully. "Yes, the invitation was lovely. Though the font choice could have been more daring."

Naraku's eye twitched. "We appreciate your feedback, Mrs. Taisho. I'll relay it to Kagura. Now, about your—"

"One moment, Mr. Higurashi," she interrupted smoothly. "Let me check with the rest of the family. Please hold."

Before Naraku could respond, a cheery instrumental version of Fur Elise began to play through the receiver.

Naraku blinked at the phone. "Did she just put me on hold?" He glanced at the tablet, muttering, "She knows who I am, doesn't she?"

He leaned back into the sofa, tapping his fingers against the armrest as the music looped. Just as he contemplated ending the call and moving on to the next family, the line clicked, and a new voice came through.

"Who is this?"

Naraku frowned. "Naraku Higurashi. And who might you be?"

"This is Toga Taisho," the man replied, his tone bordering on amused annoyance. "Why are you calling my wife? And why am I the one answering her phone?"

Naraku resisted the urge to groan. "I wasn't calling her, I was calling you and your family to confirm your attendance at our charity event. She put me on hold."

Toga chuckled, the sound irritatingly carefree. "Ah, yes. She does that. Probably wandered off to check her makeup or feed her koi fish. She's easily distracted."

Naraku's patience wore thin. "I fail to see how that's relevant, Taisho. Can I assume you and your family will attend, or should I call back when someone more competent answers the phone?"

"Competent?" Toga said, his tone sharpening with mock offense. "Listen here, Higurashi. You're lucky I even picked up the phone. Most people would've waited politely on hold."

Naraku leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "I don't have the luxury of time to waste. Unlike you, I actually work for a living."

Toga barked out a laugh. "Work? You mean delegating everything to underlings while you sit around in designer suits? Please. I'm practically building the economy single-handedly."

Naraku's lips curled into a smirk. "Ah yes, the economy. Is that what you were building when you wore that eyesore of a floral shirt to last year's gala? It looked like you raided a bargain bin in Hawaii."

Toga gasped dramatically. "That shirt was custom-tailored! You wouldn't know bold fashion if it bit you."

"Bold fashion?" Naraku sneered. "It looked like your gardener's apron."

Before Toga could retort, the phone crackled, and Inukimi's serene voice returned. "Mr. Higurashi, my apologies for the delay."

Naraku straightened, his tone once again smooth. "Not at all, Mrs. Taisho. I trust you've had enough time to discuss with your family?"

"Yes, we'll all be attending," she said, her tone tinged with amusement. Then, as if she'd overheard the entire exchange, she added lightly, "And I'll make sure Toga leaves his bold fashion choices at home this time."

Toga could be heard sputtering in the background. "Excuse me?!"

Naraku allowed himself a rare smirk. "Wonderful. We look forward to seeing you all there. Have a pleasant afternoon."

As he ended the call, Naraku leaned back into the sofa with a satisfied sigh. "One family down," he muttered, picking up his tablet to check the next name.

"Only twenty-two more to go."