Chapter 17: Mayhem and Malpractice

Miroku, still grinning like he had just cracked the Da Vinci Code, clapped Kohaku on the shoulder before strolling off, leaving Sango and Kohaku standing there, staring at each other.

Kohaku, looking like he'd just witnessed an alien landing, turned to Sango with wide eyes. "Did that just happen? Seriously? Did we actually agree to help set up Kagome and his cousin? What even is that?"

Sango sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Unfortunately, yes. Miroku has...ideas."

Kohaku crossed his arms, his face a mix of disbelief and intrigue. "Okay, so here's the deal," he started, adjusting his glasses like he was about to launch into a technical breakdown. "We're supposed to help Miroku—Miroku—use tech to manipulate two grown adults into falling in love. And, what? We're gonna do this with power outages and Spotify playlists?"

Sango bit back a laugh at his serious tone. "Yeah, pretty much."

Kohaku stared at her for a moment, then looked at the spot Miroku had just been standing. "He is crazy. I gotta admit," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "he's got some good skills. Like, that idea about setting up a power outage? That was... actually kind of genius." He looked up at Sango, his eyes wide with childlike excitement. "Like, I don't even know how he thought of that, but it's evil in a really cool way!"

Sango raised an eyebrow. "Evil?"

Kohaku grinned, his expression completely serious. "Oh, yeah. Evil genius level stuff. But it's not the kind of evil where people get hurt... just where they get awkwardly in love. Which is... hilarious, honestly."

Sango snorted. "I thought you didn't like his ideas."

Kohaku shrugged, tapping his fingers on his arm like he was deep in thought. "I mean, I don't, but... he's kind of got style, you know? I don't even think he knows what he's doing, but he's really good at making it look like he does. I respect that."

Sango laughed, shaking her head. "You're way too impressed by him for someone who was just calling him crazy a second ago."

Kohaku rolled his eyes. "It's like... I have to admit, the guy's kind of cool. I mean, who else would try to matchmake two people with zero regard for boundaries? That's next-level chaos. It's like a game to him!"

Sango folded her arms, still chuckling. "And you want to be part of that game?"

Kohaku looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course! Are you kidding? This is like... tech-assisted romance disaster... with a side of hacking. I'm totally in. What else would I be doing? Schoolwork?" He scoffed, making air quotes. "No thanks. This is way more fun."

Sango couldn't help but laugh. "You're twelve, Kohaku."

He grinned. "And already a hacker, the family's newest treasure." He paused, his expression turning serious. "But we need to up the ante, you know? I could hack into their phones, plant a couple of texts, change their calendars... make them think it was fate."

Sango raised her hands in mock surrender. "Oh no, you're already planning the next level of this. This is not going to end well."

Kohaku shrugged, looking pleased with himself. "Well, Miroku's plan was basically half-baked. But I'm going to perfect it. You'll see."

Sango gave him a side-eye, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

Kohaku grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Who needs to study for the next test when we can hack romance instead?"

Sango sighed, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I've created a monster."

Kohaku, grinning proudly, held up his phone like he'd just unlocked the secret to world domination. "Just wait. I'm going to make this interesting."

Sango couldn't help but laugh. "How was the children's section, by the way? You survive?"

Kohaku smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "It wasn't too bad. A lot of candy... Shippo's got a real talent for building things out of blocks. He practically created a whole fortress out of them. No idea how he did it."

Sango raised an eyebrow. "A fortress, huh?"

Kohaku shrugged with a grin. "He's got the skills for it."

As the Taisho's left the gala, Miroku jogged up to Sesshoumaru, casually handing him his phone.

"You forgot this on the table," Miroku said cheerfully. "Oh, and I found my watch. Had to retrace my steps back into the ballroom."

Sesshoumaru glanced at him, slightly annoyed. "Congratulations on your achievement."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Miroku smirked. "But you, dear Cousin—what were you doing out in the hallway for so long? You missed the auction entirely."

Sesshoumaru's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "I was locked out," he said curtly.

"Locked out? Seriously?" Miroku asked. "How does someone like you get locked out of a gala?"

Sesshoumaru sighed, clearly done with the conversation. "I wasn't alone. Kagome was also there."

Miroku's eyebrows shot up, and he hid his grin with exaggerated concern. "You and Kagome? Locked out? Together? How… unexpected."

Sesshoumaru's voice turned softer. "She fell asleep. I ensured she was undisturbed." Sesshoumaru shot him a glare, but it lacked his usual bite. His mind was elsewhere—on Kagome.

Sesshoumaru knew the report would bring complications, potentially putting her career and reputation under scrutiny. Yet, Kagome had chosen to move forward with it, determined to do what was right. That resolve, even at great personal cost, lingered in his mind. He was worried.

"That's very considerate of you," Miroku teased, nudging him lightly. "Missed the auction for her, huh?"

Sesshoumaru shot him a look that would have silenced anyone else, but Miroku just chuckled.

When they finally arrived home, Sesshoumaru noticed something unusual dangling from his sleeve—a delicate silver bracelet with tiny charms. His brows furrowed as he plucked it off and instantly recognized it as Kagome's.

Miroku, ever observant, noticed immediately. "Sesshoumaru," he said, grinning mischievously, "what's that?"

Sesshoumaru pocketed the bracelet, his expression unreadable. "It's none of your concern."

"Sure, sure," Miroku said, barely containing his laughter. "But it looks like she left you a little keepsake."

"Oh, by the way," Miroku added casually, his voice oozing with mischief, "I got Kagome's number for you. It's on your phone now."

Sesshoumaru froze mid-step, turning slowly to fix Miroku with a withering stare.

Miroku raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "What? I thought I'd save you the trouble. You're welcome."

Sesshoumaru's golden eyes narrowed, his tone icy. "You did what?" Miroku stumbled backward, his grin faltering slightly as he tried to retreat. "I—I got you her number!" he blurted, stumbling over his words.

Before Miroku could blink, Sesshoumaru was on him, his stride long and determined.

"First the peanuts and now her number?" Sesshoumaru's voice was low, a dangerous edge creeping into his words. "How did you even get her number?"

Miroku, seeing the looming threat of Sesshoumaru's approach, broke into a sprint. "You know, you could've just asked!" Miroku shouted over his shoulder, clearly not interested in stopping for a serious conversation. "But nooo, I had to be the resourceful one!"

Sesshoumaru's footsteps pounded the floor behind him, closing in. "I'm going to kill you, Miroku."

Miroku glanced back, his grin widening. "You're not catching me that easily! I'm like a gazelle—graceful, fast!"

"You're like a clumsy gazelle," Sesshoumaru muttered, his voice colder than before, and his pace quickened even more.

Miroku's eyes widened as he made a sharp turn down the hall. "Graceful, I said! Graceful!" He shot a quick glance at Sesshoumaru, who was gaining on him fast. "What are you gonna do, throw a coffee cup at me?" he taunted.

Sesshoumaru was unfazed. "It will be worse than that."

Miroku's breath came in ragged gasps. "Come on, Sesshoumaru, think of the rewards of patience!" He glanced at the nearest hallway corner. "You could take a deep breath, calm yourself... and then—"

"Running out of words, are we?" Sesshoumaru growled from behind him.

Miroku took a sharp corner, his slippery dress shoes nearly sending him into a slide. "Well, maybe not words, but—" He turned his head just in time to see Sesshoumaru practically on top of him. "—more running!"

Miroku's desperate sprint continued down the hallway, but it was only a matter of time before Sesshoumaru caught him.

"You're going to regret this," Sesshoumaru said, the sound of his footsteps relentless.

Miroku laughed, though it was nervous now. He could practically hear Sango's voice again in his mind: "Uh-huh, just remember that when you're running for your life in those slippery dress shoes."

Miroku glanced down at his polished dress shoes, which were indeed quite slippery on the marble floor. He gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "Okay, maybe Sango was right. But how bad could it be, right?"

Miroku swerved to avoid the approaching corner, trying to maintain a steady pace. I'm faster than I look. I've got this. He can't be that—

And that's when he heard it—the sound of Sesshoumaru's footsteps growing louder and louder.

Miroku's grin faltered for a moment as he realized just how much ground Sesshoumaru was making up. "Shit," Miroku muttered again, his pace quickening. He had hoped for a bit more time, but his cousin wasn't the type to let things slide, especially when it came to his phone.

The soft hum of the water ceased as Sesshoumaru stepped out of the shower, steam curling around him in lazy tendrils. He reached for a towel, methodically drying himself, his gaze drifting to the small silver bracelet lying on the counter.

It rested there like a quiet reminder, its tiny charms catching the bathroom light. Kagome's bracelet.

He leaned against the sink, his towel draped loosely over his shoulders, and studied the delicate piece. How had it ended up on his sleeve? Had she dropped it in her sleep, or had her fingers brushed against him more intentionally than he'd realized?

The memory of her laughter—light, melodic, like a sound he could never tire of—washed over him. Her fingers brushing his arm, soft-tentative, as if she hadn't quite realized the effect it had on him. He remembered the playful frustration when she struggled to cut into the meat at the dinner table, her eyes narrowing in concentration. It made him smile to himself.

She had looked so beautiful that evening in her dress, the way her midnight-black hair cascaded down her back. She seemed to shine in the most effortless way, like she belonged in the soft glow of moonlight, untouched by the worries of the world.

And yet, beneath all that, there was an undeniable strength. Her decision to report the malpractice at the hospital, despite the risks to her career, to her family business, was proof of that.

Casually, he took out his phone, fingers hovering for a moment before he unlocked it. He found the screenshot he had taken earlier—one from the Higurashi's magazine interview, her at the forefront in a blue sweater and grey slacks. It was a simple shot, but it captured her perfectly: her smile warm, her eyes focused and determined, yet somehow soft at the same time. He hadn't told anyone about it—not even Miroku, who would've undoubtedly teased him about it.

For just a moment, Sesshoumaru let himself linger on the image, before he stared at her phone number that Miroku had managed to get. With a soft exhale, he tucked his phone away, the bracelet still resting in his other hand. Maybe tomorrow, when the world felt a little less demanding, he would return it to her. For now, it would remain with him, a quiet reminder of her presence, like the bracelet itself—delicate, yet important.

The drive home was quiet, save for the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional rustling from the backseat where Shippo sat, his curiosity piqued. Kagura and Naraku exchanged a few words about the gala, ensuring everything was in order, but Shippo couldn't stop his thoughts from racing. He leaned forward, unable to hold back any longer.

"So," Shippo began, as he eyed Kagome from the backseat, "what exactly happened between you and Kanna's brother?"

Kagome, who had been staring out the window, turned slightly to look at him, arching an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Shippo leaned in closer, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You know what I mean. What really happened out there?"

Kagome chuckled softly, but she could hear the underlying worry in Shippo's tone. "Nothing happened, Shippo," she said, trying to ease his mind. "Sesshoumaru was just there, making sure I was okay until we could get back inside."

Shippo's eyes narrowed further, clearly not convinced. "That's it?" He crossed his arms, his little brow furrowing. "You're telling me that's all there was to it? Just you, him and a hallway?"

Kagura, overhearing the exchange from the front seat, glanced at Naraku before turning back to Kagome with a teasing smile. "It's understandable, Shippo. I mean, it was Sesshoumaru. Who wouldn't want to be stuck with him for a bit?" she said with a wink.

Kagome rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. "Mother! Please," she said, shaking her head. "Nothing happened. We just waited together."

Shippo wasn't giving up, though. He leaned forward again, this time his tone even. "I don't trust that guy."

"So," Kagura began, her tone casual but curious, "what exactly happened tonight, Kagome?"

Kagome chuckled, adjusting her bag as she glanced over at Kagura. "I fell asleep," she admitted with a small shrug, trying to keep it light. "I wasn't paying attention."

Kagura raised an eyebrow. "You fell asleep? Just like that?" She gave Kagome a teasing smile. "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately. Only you would end up in a situation like this."

Kagome smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I guess I was more tired than I realized."

Naraku, who had been quietly listening, glanced over his shoulder from the front seat and gave Kagome a gentle, but firm, look. "Kagome, you've been working non-stop. You need rest. There's an important meeting tomorrow in regards to Higurashi Pharmaceuticals and the technological advancements we're discussing. You'll need to be sharp."

Kagome nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I know, father. I'll rest. I've been meaning to take it easy." She let out a small sigh.

Kagura softened at her words. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this, Kagome. We all want you to succeed, but you need balance. It's okay to slow down for a bit."

Naraku's voice turned more commanding, but with that underlying concern for his daughter. "Get some sleep tonight, Kagome. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I'll need you at your best. We've got significant decisions to make about Higurashi Pharmaceuticals and how we're positioning ourselves with new technology. We don't have room for any distractions."

Kagome nodded again, smiling softly at her father's determination. "I'll be ready. I promise." But as she sat back in her seat, the weight of the upcoming decisions began to press on her. The report—everything she'd been working on—would be turned in tomorrow. But the uncertainty about her choices lingered. Was what she was doing selfish? Would her decision hurt the company? Her family?

She glanced over at her parents—her father's unwavering strength and her mother's quiet grace, and Shippo's child-like innocence—and felt a pang in her chest. She wanted to ask them, to confide in them, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They had so much on their plate already. I can handle this, she thought, though a small part of her wasn't so sure.

Her fingers instinctively reached for her bracelet. But as she brushed over her wrist, her heart skipped a beat—it wasn't there.

Her breath caught in her throat as she frantically searched her other wrist, the hollow feeling growing. She hadn't even noticed it was missing until now, but now that it was gone, a sense of panic began to rise in her chest. Where was it?

She glanced around, her eyes darting to the floor, as though the bracelet might magically appear. The unease crept through her, the reality of its absence sinking in. How could I have lost it?

Kohaku sat hunched over his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard with a precision that only a seasoned hacker could achieve. He'd just finished the final steps of tweaking Kagome's phone—nothing too drastic, just a little adjustment to help Miroku's matchmaking plan go off without a hitch. It was meant to be a minor update, a way to "facilitate fate" as Miroku had put it, nothing more. But as he clicked the final command, a small notification popped up on his screen.

"Glitch detected."

Kohaku blinked, his brows furrowing. "What the...?" He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the screen as his fingers worked to troubleshoot the issue. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

He quickly scanned the system logs, his face growing more and more confused as he processed the data. His eyes widened when he realized what had occurred. "No way..."

The glitch wasn't just an error in the code—it had triggered an unintended recording feature. Kohaku watched in stunned silence as the screen displayed a list of recordings. His heart sank. The phone had been silently recording the activities of the user—Kagome, to be specific—since the moment the phone had been modified.

"Oops," Kohaku muttered to himself, feeling the weight of his mistake. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

His fingers hovered over the laptop's trackpad, contemplating the mess he'd just made. The recordings included everything—her conversations, her reactions, even the moments when she'd been holding the phone, the quiet pauses between her thoughts. It was all there, unintentionally captured in high definition.

"Well, this is... awkward," Kohaku muttered, his face turning pale. "I should've triple-checked the code." His hand hovered over the 'delete' button, but then he hesitated. This could be a disaster. He didn't know if Kagome would ever notice, but if she did, he was in so much trouble. For now he would just ignore it and bring it up to Sango and Miroku when they planned to meet after their first 'mission'.

Kagome stood before the hospital's administration office, her heart racing with anticipation. For days, she had meticulously gathered the evidence, double-checking every detail to ensure it was flawless. She'd also spent two exhausting hours searching the hotel room for her missing bracelet, all of it done under the cover of night, without her family knowing.

With a deep, steadying breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The cold, sterile atmosphere of the hospital's administration office hit her immediately—blank walls, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and the faint scent of antiseptic. She walked with purpose, her footsteps echoing as she approached the desk where a middle-aged woman, sharp-eyed and wearing glasses, sat, her fingers poised above the keyboard.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked in a neutral tone, not looking up.

"I'm here to submit a report," Kagome replied, her voice steady, though she could feel her nerves creeping beneath the surface. "It's regarding a case of malpractice."

The woman's gaze flicked briefly to the envelope in Kagome's hands, her brow raising ever so slightly. She leaned forward, intrigued. "Malpractice, you say? That's a serious matter."

Kagome nodded, her fingers tightening around the envelope. "I've gathered all the evidence I could."

The woman gave a slow nod of acknowledgment, her expression unreadable, before reaching out to take the envelope. "I'll make sure this reaches the appropriate department. But let me remind you, this will not be taken lightly."

Kagome met her gaze without hesitation, her eyes hard with determination and resolve. "I understand."

The woman placed the envelope carefully on her desk, her face a mask of professionalism, and Kagome stood there for a moment, her chest tightening as the weight of what she had just done settled in. Her heart pounded, but her gaze never wavered. She had done what needed to be done. There was no turning back now.