InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Compliments of a Falling Bomb ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Courtesy of a Falling Bomb

By Juju-san

 

 

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own InuYasha. Sorry, I don't have a clever line for this thing. *Insane laughter.* Enjoy, and please review! Juju hearts reviewers!

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Sesshoumaru sighed, stubbing out his cigarette in the cheap plastic ashtray and letting his forehead fall into his palm, a rare gesture for the solemn young man. The reporter looked on impassively, pen poised above the thick legal pad. The walls of the room they were in were obviously built for function, not form; nicotine seemed to ooze out of the walls and ceiling, coating everything in a depressing, mid-80s haze.

 

“So…Taishou-sama. Did you ever figure out why she left?”

 

The question was at once jarring and expected, and thoroughly ignorant. Sesshoumaru responded by tilting his head down and to the side, narrowing his eyes and blinking once.

 

It was a long while before the answer was given.

 

“No. The others have tried, and failed…I'm sure there were reasons for her actions, which are none of my concern.” He tried to sound as apathetic as he could, but his voice sounded strained and hollow against the peeling white paint that had been haphazardly flung against the walls.

 

The clock on the south wall ticked incessantly, the noise becoming gradually louder as it reached the large “6” on its stained face. Sesshoumaru winced inwardly, then straightened up.

 

“If we're finished here…” He let the question hang in the air as he coughed once, walking gracefully to the door. His stride was even, but his shoulders sagged ever so slightly. He was at once impossibly solid and heartbreakingly delicate. The reporter sighed, tapping the pen.

 

“Thank you, Taishou-sama.” Looking up, a glance was thrown at the man standing just outside the now-open door.

 

“Send the next one in.”

 

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Once outside in the blinding mid-autumn sunlight, Sesshoumaru began to walk, hands jammed into the pockets of his trench coat. He could have called his father, who would have sent a limousine for his son, but for some reason, he needed to be alone for a while. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the past few months had played hell with his subconscious.

 

As he neared the corner, he spotted a young girl with long, dark hair huddled against the side of a building, a thin flannel blanket wrapped about her slight frame. His eyes widened, hand extending to reach out to her…

 

…when she transformed into a homeless woman of perhaps fifty. She blinked nervously at him.

 

“Sir…sir? Wha' are you doin'? I don' offer that kinda service no more…” She grinned wickedly at him for a moment, exposing the nightmarish gaps where her front teeth might have been. Sesshoumaru paled.

 

Without a word, he continued on his way, his pace brisk and urgent, as if he were looking for something. A few more blocks and he was totally lost. Giving a roar of frustration that drew stares from the bystanders, he stepped into the street, planning on getting out of the area he was in before calling home. This place was infested with poverty, would-be pimps and prostitutes wandering the streets, and in broad daylight, no less.

 

Preoccupied with his own disgust, he didn't see the car speeding toward him. At the last split second before it collided, he heard a gasp, a woman's voice, shrieking in horror…

 

 

 

TBC.

 

Author's notes: Evil, I know…but you'll see where I'm going with this by chapter three. *Grins.*