Chapter 6: Finding Their Place
Miroku adjusted his sunglasses, trying to look inconspicuous as he leaned against his car. His gaze followed Kagome as she exited the hospital, her laughter floating on the breeze as she chatted with the woman beside her. He pulled out a small notebook, flipping it open with a flourish.
"Sesshoumaru, you'll thank me for this someday," he murmured, pen poised over the page.
"Kagome: business casual," he muttered as his pen glided across the paper. "Likely hospital work. Mood: happy, radiant even."
She looked even better in person—graceful and polished, just like her supermodel mother. Miroku let out a low whistle, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Well, Sesshoumaru, you've certainly got an eye for perfection."
But then, his attention shifted to Kagome's companion, and his pen froze mid-stroke. She was gorgeous too. Miroku blinked, momentarily thrown off guard.
"Both of them?" he muttered in disbelief. "How is this fair?"
His eyes lingered on the other woman—a brunette with expressive brown eyes, an air of quiet confidence, and an elegance that seemed effortless.
And then, like a spark igniting a fire, it hit him. A grin crept across his face as he flipped to a new page in his notebook.
"Her friend," he murmured, jotting furiously. "Brown-eyed goddess. Elegant. Self-assured. Laughs easily. Not just a pretty face—she's wife material. The one for me, without a doubt."
Ahead, Kagome gestured animatedly as she and the woman—Sango, Miroku noted—walked toward the parking lot, their conversation peppered with warm laughter. Sango brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and Miroku felt a pang of certainty that made his grin widen.
"This is unbelievable," he whispered to himself. "I came to scout for Sesshoumaru, and found not just one, but two beautiful women."
Just then, Sango glanced toward Miroku. Her warm expression cooled instantly as her sharp brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. Miroku froze, his grin faltering slightly before returning, now tinged with nervous charm.
Snapping his notebook shut with newfound determination, Miroku tucked it into his pocket.
Straightening his coat, he leaned casually against his car, already planning his next move. After all, fate had just handed him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and Miroku Sato was not one to waste it.
Miroku's grin widened as he leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping excitedly on the steering wheel. Two birds with one stone. He'd find a way to bring Sango into his life, and he'd make sure to bring Kagome into Sesshoumaru's . This is going to be good.
Sango adjusted the strap of her bag, matching her pace with Kagome's as they stepped out of the hospital. The day had been long, but the fresh air felt good, and Kagome's laughter made it better.
"Come on Sango," Kagome said, nudging Sango with a grin. "You're too serious! Admit it—it was hilarious."
Sango shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'll admit it was unexpected. I didn't think Dr. Takeda could turn that shade of red."
Their laughter echoed lightly in the parking lot as they walked toward Kagome's car. But something—an instinct honed over years of keeping her guard up—made Sango glance around. Her gaze landed on a man leaning against a car a short distance away.
He wasn't particularly suspicious at first glance—dark sunglasses, a casual posture, and a sleek notebook in hand. But there was something about the way he was watching them, pen poised, that set her on edge.
She let her eyes narrow slightly. The man must have noticed Sango's sharp gaze because he froze for a moment, his grin faltering. Then, as if recovering from the momentary stumble, he flashed a smile—one of those overly confident, practiced smiles that only made Sango's suspicion deepen.
The man seemed to reconsider whatever plan he'd been formulating. Snapping his notebook shut, he tucked it into his pocket with a flourish before straightening his coat. With one last smile, he leaned casually against his car, clearly pretending nothing was amiss.
"What with the media people lately…is there a new system in celebrity gossip?" Sango murmured.
Kagome, rummaging through her purse, barely glanced up. "Yeah, they've definitely adopted some… unconventional methods lately Sango."
"Unconventional is putting it mildly," Sango replied, her expression softening slightly but her guard still firmly in place.
A breeze swept past, carrying the faint scent of his cologne—expensive, no doubt. Sango kept her gaze forward as they walked. She considered stopping to get a better look at him but decided against it.
Letting him know she'd noticed might tip him off.
Even as they reached Kagome's car, Sango's focus stayed sharp. She glanced back discreetly as she opened the passenger-side door, but the man had already snapped his notebook shut and was now leaning back against his car like he had all the time in the world.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn't make out much more about him. His sunglasses obscured most of his face, and his body language gave little away.
Her unease hadn't faded, but she knew better than to dwell on it—for now.
Kanna's small feet padded softly down the hall, the house unusually quiet except for the faint murmur of voices coming from the study. Her curiosity piqued, she slowly approached the partially open door. She could hear her mother's voice—calm and measured, as always—intertwined with several other voices. Inukimi was hosting a meeting, something Kanna rarely saw.
Peeking inside, Kanna saw a group of well-dressed adults gathered around the large wooden desk in the center of the room. The tall windows filtered in the late afternoon light, casting a warm glow over the polished furniture. Her mother was seated at the head of the table, a soft smile on her face, as she discussed a case with her colleagues.
Kanna stayed hidden just outside the door, pressing her ear slightly against the wood. She recognized a few of the voices but couldn't see their faces clearly from where she stood. There was a low hum of conversation, punctuated by her mother's steady input.
"Are we on track for the deadline?" one of the men at the table asked, his voice firm but respectful.
Inukimi, as always, responded with a calm authority. "Yes, the brief is in order. We're just waiting for the final statements from the opposition before we proceed. I'll review it once I have that."
Kanna couldn't help but be intrigued by the way her mother spoke—how she commanded attention, how her words seemed to carry weight. It was a stark contrast to Kanna's quiet voice, and it made her wonder how it would feel to speak with such confidence.
"Excellent," another voice chimed in. "We'll finalize everything once you give the go-ahead."
"Of course. I'll check in once I've had time to review the last of the documents." Inukimi's tone remained calm, steady, yet there was no mistaking the control she had over the conversation.
Kanna's heart fluttered. It all sounded so important—so grown-up—and yet, here she was, a little girl in the hallway, trying to muster the courage to even say a word.
"Excuse me," Kanna whispered to herself, stepping away quietly. She wasn't supposed to interrupt the meeting, and she certainly wasn't brave enough to speak in front of so many adults.
But just as she started to pull away, she stepped on a creaky floorboard, causing the door to squeak open a little wider. Kanna froze. Her heart raced, and she wanted to bolt, but before she could, Inukimi's voice drifted out from the room.
"Kanna?" Her voice was soft but carried a hint of surprise.
Kanna's face turned bright red, and she hurriedly pushed the door open, stepping into the room with her head down. "I—I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
But before anyone could say anything, Kanna darted across the hall like a small, swift shadow. Her little feet pattered quickly against the floor as she made a beeline for the door.
Inukimi's gentle voice called after her, "Kanna, wait."
But Kanna didn't stop. Her legs carried her toward the hallway with an urgency only she could understand. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, she could barely hear her own thoughts. She could feel the eyes of the people in room on her, but she refused to look up.
Kagura sat across from Naraku at Le Bernardin, an exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant in Tokyo, its modern, minimalist design offering a calm yet luxurious atmosphere. The evening sun cast a warm, golden light through the large windows, adding an extra layer of elegance to the scene. In front of her lay the final draft of the charity gala plans, her fingers gently tracing the edges of the document as she looked at Naraku with satisfaction.
"I trust you're ready for the gala?" Kagura asked, her voice smooth and confident, breaking the silence between them.
Naraku glanced up from the last sip of his wine, raising an eyebrow. "I assume everything has been planned down to the smallest detail?"
"Of course," Kagura replied with a confident smile, leaning back in her chair. "This will be an event to remember. Elegant, impactful, and unforgettable."
She handed him the finalized plans, which were neatly arranged and presented with a sleek layout and a detailed timeline. Naraku took the papers, though he didn't immediately look through them. Instead, he studied her, waiting for her to explain her vision in her usual meticulous manner.
"First off," Kagura began, standing up slightly to pace as she spoke, "I've set up a classic yet modern atmosphere for the gala itself. The venue is The Peninsula Hotel in Tokyo. The ballroom will be grand and tastefully decorated with crystal chandeliers, soft lighting, and large floral arrangements. Everything will be in muted tones—ivory, gold, and deep navy—nothing too garish. I want it to feel like an intimate gathering, despite the number of people attending."
Naraku nodded slightly, acknowledging the vision, though his face remained impassive.
"Now," Kagura continued, "I know you were a bit concerned about the children, but hear me out. I've arranged a separate space for them—a fun yet controlled area where they can enjoy themselves without disrupting the event. They'll have nannies, of course, but the idea is to create a space where they can play and be entertained while the adults handle the business of the evening. There'll be games, art stations, and even a candy corner that Shippo insisted on."
Naraku's eyebrow twitched slightly at the mention of the candy corner, but he didn't interrupt her. He waited as she continued explaining her plans with the same precision and grace that had guided everything she did.
"I've worked with the caterers to make sure the kids' section will feel just as special as the adult area. They'll have their own meals, a fun, kid-friendly menu to keep them engaged. I'm thinking interactive food stations, like a build-your-own sundae bar, as Shippo suggested. It'll keep them busy and entertained without being too distracting."
Naraku's gaze flickered with a hint of approval, though his expression remained cool. "And what of the adults?" he asked, his tone steady but curious. "How do you plan to keep them engaged in a meaningful way?"
Kagura's smile widened, knowing she had his attention. "That's where the charity auction comes in. I've curated a collection of rare, high-end experiences—private tours, exclusive art pieces, luxury vacations, all with the idea of giving guests a chance to contribute to the cause in a personal and impactful way. The auction items have been selected with care, making sure they appeal to the crowd without being over-the-top."
She flipped to a section of the plan, showing him a carefully laid-out schedule. "The auction will take place in the latter part of the evening, following the speeches. I've also coordinated the seating arrangements—ensuring key business associates are paired with potential partners, and guests can mingle comfortably. It's all about building the right connections for the future while keeping the evening flowing smoothly."
Naraku studied the schedule thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the details. "I take it you've accounted for the dynamics between certain guests?"
"Absolutely," Kagura replied with confidence. "I've made sure that no one will be uncomfortable. The seating will allow for strategic conversations while ensuring everyone is at ease. We'll have an open bar, elegant hors d'oeuvres, and quiet music in the background. Everything will be balanced."
She paused, letting him digest the plan. "And the children's section, as I mentioned, will be far enough away to avoid any disturbances, but with enough connection for the families to feel included and involved in the atmosphere. Shippo is in charge of some of the entertainment there, but I've ensured it's all very refined."
Naraku raised an eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Shippo is in charge of entertainment for the children?"
Kagura chuckled softly. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the candy corner doesn't turn into a chaotic mess. But the kids will be well-behaved, and Shippo's excitement will keep them engaged."
Naraku looked at her with a faint but genuine expression of approval. "It seems like you've thought of everything. From the luxury of the adult portion to the creativity of the children's area. I'm… impressed."
Kagura smiled, her confidence unmistakable. "I knew you would be. It'll be a night where everyone feels like they belong, and everyone gets to contribute. The perfect mix of business and charity."
Naraku paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. "Very well. I trust you'll oversee everything as you've planned."
"You can count on me," Kagura replied with a nod. "This will be an unforgettable night for everyone."
As she stood to leave, Naraku called after her, his tone light but firm. "And Shippo's candy corner—do make sure it stays under control."
Kagura glanced back over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "I will, I promise."
With that, she left him to his thoughts, confident that next weekend's charity gala would go exactly as planned.
The Taisho family living room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun, casting long shadows across the furniture. Sesshoumaru sat in his usual spot, poised and composed as he flipped through a business report, while Inuyasha sprawled out on the couch, absently tossing a soccer ball between his hands. The atmosphere was quiet, but the tension between the brothers, as usual, was palpable.
Inuyasha kicked the ball up lightly and caught it, his gaze drifting to Sesshoumaru. He let out a frustrated sigh, then turned to his brother, his voice quiet but laced with curiosity. "How did you figure out what you wanted to do?"
Sesshoumaru's eyes flickered up from his report, his calm demeanor unchanged. "I didn't 'figure it out.' I focused."
Inuyasha frowned, sitting up a little straighter, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "Come on, Sessh. I mean... how did you know this was your thing? The business stuff? It seems like you just... always knew."
Sesshoumaru studied him for a moment, his gaze measuring, before answering. "It's not about knowing what you want immediately. It's about understanding what is expected of you, and making the best decision with that understanding."
Inuyasha rolled the ball between his hands, feeling an ache in his chest he couldn't quite explain. "Yeah, but how do you want to do it? All this business stuff. How do you know you actually enjoy it?"
Sesshoumaru didn't answer right away. He set the report down and looked at Inuyasha, his expression unreadable. "I don't question it. I simply do it well."
Inuyasha chewed on his bottom lip, a sigh escaping him as he glanced away. "I wish I could just... know what I'm supposed to do."
Sesshoumaru's tone softened, just a little. "You will find your own way. But first, you must stop avoiding the truth of what you want."
Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tightening around the ball. "Yeah, well, it's not like it's easy, you know?" he muttered, looking down at the ball. "It's hard to figure out what you're really into when everyone's telling you what you should do."
Sesshoumaru's gaze was steady. "Then stop listening to others."
Inuyasha exhaled sharply, then tossed the ball to the side, standing up to stretch. "I just don't know where to start."
Sesshoumaru didn't respond right away. He didn't need to. The unspoken understanding between them was there—Inuyasha would figure it out, eventually, but it wasn't going to be simple. It wasn't meant to be.
For a moment, the silence between them was different. It was familiar, but not as tense. Just two brothers, sitting in the same room, both trying to figure things out.
The soft hum of the air conditioner filled Shippo's room as he lay sprawled across his bed, legs tangled in the sheets. His room was enormous, with walls lined with shelves that housed all his action figures, sports trophies, and a few books he had started but never quite finished. His desk, cluttered with scattered papers and half-drawn doodles, was evidence of his ongoing struggle to keep things organized. A few stray soccer balls and video games sat on the floor, waiting to be kicked around or played with.
Outside, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the room in a warm, golden light. Shippo stared at the window for a moment, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. He kicked his feet up and down, restless, until his eyes landed on his mom's favorite plant, which was miraculously still alive despite his occasional neglect.
Shippo let out a dramatic sigh and rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. "I should probably do some homework," he muttered to himself, glancing at the open notebook on his desk. But the words blurred together, and the thought of solving math problems was nowhere near as exciting as pretending to be a superhero or sneaking into the kitchen for a snack.
He shot a quick look at the door, checking if anyone was coming. "I'll just do it later," he decided with a mischievous grin, grabbing his favorite comic book instead. But before he could lose himself in the colorful pages, his thoughts turned to his family.
Kagome, was always so busy. She was practically glued to her books, always working on something important. Shippo admired her—she was so smart and grown-up, and she always knew what to do. But sometimes, he wondered if she ever had time to just relax. He could barely sit still for five minutes without getting distracted. How did she do it?
And then there were Mom and Dad. They were so cool. Mom had this quiet confidence, always knowing how to handle everything without ever breaking a sweat. Dad, on the other hand, was a master of business. He always seemed to know exactly what he was doing, like everything was part of some grand plan. Shippo wanted to be like them, especially Dad. He wanted to grow up and run his own company, be as successful, and maybe even have a nice office with a huge desk like Dad's.
But for now, he was just Shippo. He had a lot to learn. And he couldn't even keep his room clean, let alone figure out how to solve algebra.
Shippo kicked his feet against the bed in thought. "I'm gonna be as cool as Dad one day," he said with a firm nod, as if reassuring himself. "Maybe even smarter than Kagome." But then his eyes wandered to the window, and the mischievous spark in his eyes returned. "But first, I need a snack."
He jumped off the bed and crept toward the door, making sure not to make a sound. His stomach growled, and he couldn't ignore the temptation of leftover cookies in the kitchen. Quietly, he opened the door and peered out into the hallway.
Just as he was about to make his move, a voice stopped him.
"Shippo, what are you up to?" Kagura's voice floated from the other side of the hallway, warm but with a hint of curiosity.
Shippo froze, his hand on the doorknob. "Uh… nothing!" he called back, his voice a little too loud. He quickly closed the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of his mom standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.
"You sure about that?" Kagura asked, crossing her arms. "Your 'nothing' sounds a lot like a snack raid."
Shippo blinked, giving her his best innocent look. "I was just… uh, I was thinking about… homework! I'm gonna do it, I swear."
Kagura smirked. "You've been thinking about it for a while, huh? Well, how about you do it first, and then we'll see about that snack?"
Shippo groaned dramatically, flopping back onto his bed. "I guess I can do one problem… or two. Then I'll be done. Promise!"
"Good," Kagura said, turning to leave. "I'll be back in a bit to check on you."
Once she was out of earshot, Shippo gave a mischievous grin and turned back to his homework, his mind already working out how he could finish it in record time—and maybe sneak a cookie while he was at it.
But as he stared at his notebook, something tugged at his chest. A heavy feeling, like a small weight pressing on his heart.
Shippo's thoughts shifted to his parents. They were always so calm, so confident, always in control of everything around them. They were the ones who made sure everything ran smoothly, that Kagome and he had everything they needed. They always made things look so easy, like they had everything figured out. But Shippo knew that wasn't the whole story. There were probably moments where they felt overwhelmed too, moments when they didn't have all the answers. They were human, just like everyone else.
The more Shippo thought about it, the more he realized something important. His family had always been there for him. They'd supported him, encouraged him, and even when things were tough, they made sure he was okay. But when he looked at all that, he felt a sense of guilt growing inside him. Maybe he wasn't doing enough. He wasn't carrying his own weight. He was just the little brother, playing around and waiting for his turn to grow up.
"I don't want to be like that," Shippo muttered to himself, his small fists clenching. "I want to help."
The weight in his chest felt heavier now, but it wasn't the kind of weight that made him feel small. It was the kind that made him feel like he could do something, that he could make a difference if he tried.
He was part of this family, and maybe he wasn't as smart or as capable as Kagome, or as grown-up as Mom and Dad, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. He didn't want to sit back and wait for everyone to take care of him forever. He wanted to be a part of it all, to carry his own weight. He wanted to help his sister, his parents—his whole family.
"I'm not just gonna sit here and do nothing," Shippo whispered to himself, a sense of resolve settling in. "I'm going to help Kagome. I'm going to help Mom and Dad. I'll do my part."
He looked back at his homework, a new sense of determination in his eyes. His family had always taken care of him, and it was time for him to start taking care of them, too. Even if he was still young and figuring things out, even if he wasn't perfect, he knew he could start by doing his best.
With that, he picked up his pencil, sat up straight, and began to focus, determined to show his family that he was ready to be there for them, just as they had always been there for him.
As Toga and Inukimi made their way through the grand lobby of the theatre, the soft rustle of their elegant attire blending with the murmur of other patrons, their conversation shifted to something far more personal—something that had quietly occupied their thoughts for years but was rarely spoken aloud: their children.
"Well," Toga began thoughtfully, adjusting his cufflinks, "it's hard to believe how much they've grown, isn't it?"
Inukimi smiled softly, her gaze distant for a moment as she nodded. "It truly is. It feels like just yesterday that Sesshoumaru was a little boy, always so composed, always striving for perfection. And now look at him. He's a man, a leader in his own right, carrying on the legacy we started."
Toga chuckled under his breath, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "He's certainly taken his role seriously. Sometimes, I wonder if he was ever really a child at all. But, I suppose, that's the weight of being born into this family. Expectations have always been high."
Inukimi glanced up at him, her eyes soft with affection. "And Inuyasha," she added, her voice warmer now, as if the mention of her younger son brought a more playful side of her to the surface. "I'm still not sure how he turned out so full of energy and passion. He's the opposite of Sesshoumaru in many ways. But, sometimes, I look at him and I see that same innocence I used to see in both of them when they were little. Especially when he's excited about something. He has that spark, that fire, that's so endearing. He may act tough, but I can see how much he still wants to impress you. It's rather sweet, actually."
Toga's expression softened, a touch of concern flickering in his eyes. "It is. And I think that's part of the reason it's hard for me to let go. He's still my little boy in some ways, even if he's much bigger now."
Inukimi nodded. "We've given them the foundation, the tools to succeed. Now it's their turn to build something of their own." She turned toward Toga, her gaze a mixture of pride and contemplation. "But what about Kanna? She's still so young, and yet, I feel like I can already see something special in her."
Toga's expression softened at the mention of his youngest daughter. "Kanna… she's an enigma, isn't she? So quiet, so observant. I see the potential in her, too. She's got a mind like a steel trap, always thinking, always observing. I wonder how she'll navigate the world when the time comes."
"She's different from both of her brothers," Inukimi remarked, her voice gentle, almost protective.
Toga smiled, his pride in Kanna evident. "She is," he agreed. "But there's something incredibly special about her. She's more than what meets the eye."
They fell into a comfortable silence as they approached the car waiting to take them home, both lost in thoughts of their children.
Inukimi broke the quiet first, her voice soft yet firm. "You know, Toga, sometimes I wonder if they realize how much we care. How much we want the best for them. We've spent so much of our lives building this empire, but at the end of it all, it's them that will carry it forward."
Toga placed a gentle hand on her back as they stepped into the car, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "They know. In their own way, they understand."
Inukimi glanced up at him with a wry smile, the light from the streetlights catching her features. "You really do love a good metaphor, don't you?"
Toga smirked, settling into his seat. "It comes with the territory, my dear. Life's a stage—whether we like it or not."
She laughed softly, the sound warm and light. "Well, let's hope they don't make a drama of it. Though, given our children, I'm sure they will."
Toga's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, I'm certain they will. They have a flair for it."
Inukimi leaned back with a content sigh, her fingers resting lightly on his. "But they're our little ones, nonetheless. And they always will be."
Toga nodded, his heart full as they drove off into the night, the quiet hum of the car a gentle reminder of the family they'd built and the future they were all part of.
Sango sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window at the fading light of the evening. Her day had been long, but her thoughts kept returning to that strange encounter with the man in the sunglasses. She had just been trying to enjoy the afternoon with Kagome, but now, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling in her chest. The man's strange, knowing look and his disconcerting grin—it all felt too off, too deliberate.
She kicked off her shoes and leaned back against her pillows, folding her arms across her chest. The moment had stuck with her longer than it should have, and no matter how hard she tried to push it out of her mind, it kept creeping back in. The man had been watching them. Not just Kagome, but her hadn't looked like the kind of person she was used to seeing around the hospital or in her social circles, and then there was that scent.
Sango's brow furrowed as she replayed the moment in her mind. His cologne had been distinct, refined, and hauntingly familiar. Sango prided herself on her knowledge of perfumes and colognes—it was practically in her blood. Her great-grandfather, Hiroshi Nakahara, had built a legacy with Nakahara Fragrances, a luxury perfume house renowned for its rare and bespoke scents. No ordinary person wore that particular cologne, not unless they had a taste for exclusivity or access to the kind of connections most people only dreamed of.
Who was he?
Sango thought back to the details. His expensive coat, the way he had scribbled furiously in his notebook, and then the way he quickly shut it when he realized she was looking. It all added up to something… off. It felt like he was taking notes on them. Or worse, on her.
I can't just let this slide.
Sango shook her head, determination settling in her bones. The next time she saw him, she'd confront him. She didn't know why, but something told her that if she didn't, she'd never get peace of mind. Maybe he was just some random guy, maybe he wasn't even important. But she didn't like feeling like she'd been studied, not by someone she didn't know. Not when she had no idea what he wanted or why he was watching her and Kagome.
"Next time I see him," Sango muttered to herself, sitting up straighter, "I'm going to ask him exactly what he's up to. No more wondering. I'll find out what he's really after."
The thought settled inside her like a promise. She wasn't one to back down from something that felt off, and this situation felt all kinds of wrong. Whether he was important or not, she wasn't going to let him get away with it.
If he's got something to hide, I'll find it.
With a final resolve, Sango stood from the bed, brushing the thoughts aside for now. She had things to do tomorrow, and she'd keep her focus on what mattered. But when the time came, she'd make sure she'd get answers. That strange man in the sunglasses wasn't going to slip by her again.
And if he thought he could avoid her, well… he was in for a surprise.