InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Driven to Ascent ❯ Chapter 2: Impressions ( Chapter 4 )

A/n Right, about the wait… sorry about that. What was it, four months? Eep. But hey, I somehow managed to get it out somehow… School sucks kids.

Chapter Two: Impressions

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Kagome

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          The shock of the nature of our meeting still had not loosened its hold on me, leaving me silent and tongue-tied, face blank and numb. Maybe I should I have smiled and graciously welcomed Inuyasha. Maybe I should have offered my hand to him to shake. Anything as a gesture of kindness would have done. But I couldn't move. I felt too numb to react, not even to apologize for knocking into him.

All the resentment and wonder I had felt about him during the last several hours still rested in my mind, but now confusion joined their ranks. This was the guy who might possibly attempt to mooch off my brother's fame, and that possibility alone had alienated me and prompted my instant scorn. But concentrating on my bitterness when he was right in front of me came less easily, especially when we were mere feet apart. My agonizing came easier when I was still ignorant of him; having Inuyasha there certainly did not confirm any of my suspicions. Suddenly I began to doubt myself. Maybe my resentment was unwarranted; maybe I was wrong for thinking him a bad person.

          I remained quiet and still during my ponderings as the salutations continued around me. Apparently, Miroku had come around the table, for his hand crossed my line of vision and Inuyasha accepted it with a firm grip.

          "This is my manager, Eiri Sango," my brother introduced, indicating towards Sango, who stood up and came around as well.

          Inuyasha nodded curtly and jerked his head toward a short, bald man in a miniscule black suit, who came out from behind him. This man briskly held out his hand to Sango.

          "Myouga, Inuyasha's manager," he said as Sango shook his hand.

          "It's nice to meet you at last," Sango returned politely.

          "And this is my younger sister, Kagome," Miroku concluded, placing a hand on my shoulder.

          I started slightly as Inuyasha's gaze returned again to me, pinning me once again with that same intense gaze as before.

          "Um…" I licked my lips nervously and stretched my mouth into a timid smile. "Er… hi…" My hands, tucked behind my back, shook unsteadily. I felt my cheeks turning red and, ashamed of myself, blushed more because of it.

          But Inuyasha merely blinked and nodded to me. Evidently, only Miroku warranted a vocal response and a handshake. His gaze swiveled off me to the side and seemed to sniff.

          I followed his line of view and watched as the restaurant patrons sitting in the next table over looked abruptly away. Here, I began to hear suspicious murmurs and feel the eyebrows rising around us.

Stark and boldly Chinese, Inuyasha's red clothes clashed with the pastel colors of the carpet and tablecloth, which proudly boasted of being imported from some small European state. The primitive, fanged necklace about his neck stood out from the flashes of diamonds and jewels, like a ferocious, mangy beast among delicately primped puppies. His revealing chest reeked in primitivism, proudly displaying his wild half-nakedness. He glowed in his savagery, seeming to breathe in barbarianism. His boldness was his beauty.   

          I admit, I admired his silent audacity, and subconsciously I feebly approved of his outright Asian qualities. But now I was even more confused. Why would he come to such a Western-driven place dressed like this? I pondered this and found no answer as we returned to our seats.

          But by the time we returned to the table and settled into our seats, I realized that the moment I had to apologize to Inuyasha for the collision had passed. Shit. It was too late now. Damn it, not a good start at all…

          As the evening commenced with the usual pleasantries and idle conversations, I twitched uncomfortably. My initial embarrassment lingered for a few more minutes and I stayed silent, but it rapidly tapered off as the fact that I really, painfully, desperately, achingly needed to pee came back to my attention.

          My eyes flickered sullenly to the near empty cider bottle and glared.

          I couldn't go to the bathroom, not now that they had arrived. I looked stupid enough when I scuttled back to my chair, but if I got up again? It was rude to leave just when they arrived.

If this hadn't involved Miroku's career, I wouldn't have cared about all that shit about rudeness. I would have acted however I felt without worrying if I offended someone or not. But at the moment, I clearly did have to care, required to. I hated it, detested the idea of flippant protocol dictating my behavior, all for the sake of some flaky pop star. And I began to feel resentment.  

          Apparently, the menu had already been determined as barely five minutes passed and a waiter came with the first course.

          Despite the Western décor, this restaurant served surprisingly traditional and authentic Chinese cuisine. This did not help my state of pain.

          "Shark fin soup," the waiter announced, placing the steaming, boiling, frothing bowl on the turntable.

          I bit my lip to keep myself from whimpering. Then I bit the side of my cheek as the waiter began to ladle the soup into bowls, the liquid delicately sloshing against the porcelain with little splashing sounds. I thought I would die when he placed a bowl in front of me with its crystal clear, bubbling contents with glistening vegetables and translucent shark fins.

          While my cheek began to bleed inside my mouth, I glanced to my right at Sango, who serenely sipped her soup, the perfect picture of a proper businesswoman. I looked to my left at Miroku, who was blowing it slightly, and then past him at Inuyasha, who didn't bother using the spoon and simply gulped the bowl down whole. Beside him, on Sango's left, Myouga regarded a shark fin suspiciously.

          As there was no polite way to avoid the soup, I allowed myself to sigh and lifted a spoonful to my lips and gingerly licked the soup which, almost tauntingly, scalded my tongue.

          By the time the next dish had arrived, a selection of meats, the ice had been broken and the adults moved on to business matters for discussion. Myouga, Sango, and Miroku began an active debate on something to do with trends. Inuyasha merely nibbled on the meat with a bored expression on his face.

          I chewed on a slice of barbequed pork, trying to keep my lower body as still as possible. Oh God I could feel my bladder swell with every passing moment…

          "Inuyasha," Miroku remarked when steamed fish arrived, turning to his left companion. "What do you think? Is it the idol who projects his image, or is it the fans who press the image onto the idol?"

          I shook myself out of my stupor and stared with my brother at Inuyasha for an answer.

          Inuyasha munched on a piece of squid, unruffled and unflustered. After a long moment, he slurped it with a soft smack of the lips.

          "I think," Inuyasha languidly answered, a corner of his mouth touching up in a small sneer. "I think neither the idol nor the fans have anything--" he slowly drew out the word like the oozing of honey "-- to do with image at all."

          Miroku raised his eyebrows, eager for a debate. "Really? Please explain."

          Inuyasha picked up his glass and placidly sipped his wine. The fact that he could drink and I couldn't did not escape my notice or resentment.

          "All," he stated, "the image, the concept of the image, the ideas of the image, it all boils down to what the idol's agency deems satisfactory. They are, after all, the ones who make his fame possible. They are ones who sell his fame to the fans, so it's obvious that they have a hand in an idol's… image." 

          From anyone else's mouth, there would have been flying quotation marks around the word image.

          I could feel my lips part in a ready counter to this statement, but a twitch of my hips brought back the near bursting of my bladder. I shoved a piece of fish into my mouth and mentally cursed our dining companions for their horrid timing. The worst part was that I still could not excuse myself to the restroom. Now that that Inuyasha and Myouga had settled, it might seem rude to leave the table at the moment. I'd have to wait until the moment when… when… it was better? Even that sounded pathetic in my head…

          That's what I told myself anyway. The reason I didn't go relieve myself was because I felt embarrassed at my clumsiness and horrified at what Inuyasha probably thought of me. This made me nervous, and I could not muster the nerve to excuse myself if I meant that I had to say something out loud.

          "So you think the idol can't choose how he wants to be presented to the public?" Miroku inquired.

          "He can choose, but in the end, he doesn't get the final decision," Inuyasha drawled. "Any idiot can figure that out."

          I coughed into my wineglass. What did that mean? Was that an insult?

          Miroku shrugged in response. "I trust my agency to make the right decisions, and I trust them to take my own ideas to heart."

          Inuyasha snorted. "Yeah, that's what they want you to think," he chuckled.

I did not trust myself not to shatter the glass cup so I placed it back on to the table. What was Inuyasha's problem? Miroku had given him no reason to attack him. I looked to my brother for his witty retort and frowned in disappointment at his response.

          "I suppose I've fallen into their trap haven't I?" Miroku remarked cheerfully.

          I prevented myself from snapping at Miroku's meekness by taking another particularly large chunk of fish with a healthy amount of rice and stuffing it into my mouth. Did Miroku just humor Inuyasha? He had no need to! Miroku was the senior one here, not Inuyasha! He deserved some respect.

          Alright, calm down… Perhaps it was a just a mistake, a slip of the tongue on Inuyasha's part. After all, Miroku did have a considerable amount of influence in the business. Inuyasha probably just felt flustered and felt that he had to make a stand…

          But as the evening went on, it didn't seem to be a mistake. Several more instances of disrespect and rudeness directed from to Inuyasha's party to Miroku's occurred. At each time, Miroku or Sango merely responded neutrally and noncommittally, not even trying to defend themselves.

          My frustration from before their arrival returned. Why were Miroku and Sango humoring Inuyasha? It should be the other way around, and they knew it, but they groveled anyway. They let Inuyasha get away with his snide comments. They smiled pleasantly and politely pretended not to hear them. They were the ones who prompted the discussion, who made an effort to engage our companions in conversation.

          Why?

          At some point during the middle of dinner, Inuyasha's snide comments gradually came less and less until he was as silent and grim as me. I was so angry that my earlier admiration for his Asian ethnicity in a Western place had diminished. I noted his silence happily and took as many opportunities as possible to fix him with a hard stare.

          Any shyness I felt in the beginning had, by this point, worn away. Frustration replaced shyness and I began to scold myself. I wondered why I was willing to risk seeming rude by ignoring him but unwilling to go to the bathroom, even though I desperately needed to. Why did I have to be so polite about it?

          And what the fuck was with that touchy-feely thing of Inuyasha's? Okay, he caught me because I fell against him, yes, thank you very much. But he didn't let go, that was the key part, and it was only until Miroku spoke that he dropped his hands. Granted, yes, I fell on him first, but still¸ did he really have to grab me? And then he stared at me so strongly, so intently I might say. It was practically leering.  

          Simply put, it was creepy.

          But this wasn't the first case of creepiness I've encountered. In fact, Inuyasha's creepiness was mild in comparison to Miroku's fans.

          I sighed and absently chewed on the fish.

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Inuyasha

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          I fucking want to kill myself.

          Right then, I really wanted to take my wineglass and chug down a bottle of pills with its contents. Boredom was not justification for suicide in most cases, but never underestimate the existence of exceptions.  Unfortunately I only had half a glass left of wine and no pills on me.

          I hated it when Naraku sent me to these "social visits" as he called it. Fraternizing with other wussy, pansy pop stars so that my image and reputation would be improved did not suit me. The fact that I, too, am considered a wussy, pansy popstar doesn't matter; the key word is considered. This little dinner was different because I might actually have to work with this Miroku Higurashi. Not because I want to sing duets with him of course; I'm not so pathetic; it's about the money after all, that is all Naraku cares about these days. And I'm just a little pop star under his thumb to obey his every order because Naraku's always right.

          But this was almost too much. I hadn't even known about this dinner. I was aware that Naraku was scheming to pair me with Higurashi, but I didn't know it was tonight. He didn't bother to tell me and I resented that. Half an hour past the rendezvous, I was at a fucking club and Myouga only decided to enlighten me then. No time to prepare, no time to change out of my clubbing attire, and no time to get my mind resigned to another social visit. I was on my way to getting piss drunk and Myouga tells me we have to leave now and that I have to be courteous, and presentable because Higurashi is so famous and so kind to make time for humble little me… Oh yes, I was so looking forward to this dinner, yes fucking sir, no doubt about it, not.   

          Myouga had made an effort to emphasize the successes of Higurashi's record history, silently informing me of all the good that could come out of an alliance between us two. Four albums, all platinum within a month. Big fucking deal, was that record history supposed to scare me?

          Myouga didn't seem to realize it, but I knew that the outcome of tonight's events didn't matter at all.  It didn't matter if our voices did not harmonize together, or if we simply did not like each other. Whether or not Miroku approved of me, or vice versa, we were going to form a partnership anyway. That was how Naraku worked and it was shameful that my manager refused to see this.

          This did give me certain liberties that I would never have had with any other celebrity. There was no need to be simpering polite. I could be as rude as I wanted. Considering the dark mood I came in with, the liberties were welcome and enjoyed.

          But eventually the evening lulled me into a state of boredom and I stopped speaking all together. Myouga kept up the conversation so my silence didn't matter.

          Besides, I wasn't the only one being rude. Miroku's sister, whatever her name was, sat there, twitching now and then, listening actively to the conversation but not joining in. Of course, she was on a different level of involvement; it was not required for her to talk, being only Miroku's sister.

          I smirked humorlessly. It had been somewhat startling when she bumped into me. At first, I instinctively thought she was a fan and grabbed her arms to push her away. But then she stared up at me, innocent, surprised, not the eyes of an adoring fan. She had neither recognized nor known me. She didn't even have the courtesy to act surprised when my identity came forth.

          I had grown so accustomed to being recognized on the streets that her reaction shocked me for a moment, my pride could not believe that there was someone in Hong Kong who did not know my face. I had unintentionally paused and I had kept my hands on her and stared until I realized that something else about her face drew my eyes.

For some reason, I got the feeling that I had seen it once before. Obviously, this shouldn't have been surprising, she being Higurashi Miroku's sister. The odd thing was that I knew I had seen her face on someone else, and I couldn't remember who. It was amusing really. Why would I ever think such a thing?

And then suddenly, I realized who she looked like, and it was fucking hilarious.

          I smirked, but I didn't laugh.

          All of a sudden, I wanted to get away, far away, from this table of false smiles and superficial camaraderie. It was disgusting the way Sango smiled sweetly and Miroku patiently listened to Myouga's long winded speeches. They were just tools used to serve the media, to serve Myouga, to serve Naraku, and, considering what Naraku's plots typically ended up as, maybe even me. I couldn't stand it anymore.

          I wanted to just stand up and leave, but I knew Naraku would have my hide if I did. So I settled for a temporary resolution.

          I scooted my chair back and abruptly stood up. Four pairs of eyes turned around to look at me.

          "I need to take a shit," I announced casually, "Where's the restroom at?"

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Kagome

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          My first thought was, how rude of him, he'd actually said shit out loud (In public! What nerve! How cool! I mean, rude, right), and how stupid of me. If Inuyasha was willing to be rude by going to the bathroom, then how come I wasn't? I could have saved myself so much pain…

          And then my mind started shrieking at me: THERE'S YOUR CHANCE!!!

          I shot up out of my chair, chopsticks clanging against the plate.

          "I'll show you the way!" I said, a little louder than I intended.

          Silence.

          Inuyasha and I both stayed standing for a moment, I staring with hope and dread, he only emotionless or perhaps too dumbfounded to react. Then he seemed to sigh.

          "Great," he mumbled and stalked off, leaving me to blink and scramble after him.

          Judging from the long strides he took toward the exit of the main dining room, not even slowing to wait for me to catch up, Inuyasha's questioning of the restroom's location was entirely rhetorical. I pretended not to notice and tried to run up to his side, which ended up as more of a scuttle than a run with my high heels.

          Luckily, Inuyasha paused for a moment when he reached the opening of the dining room, which met a long corridor that separated the dining room from the reception lobby. The left end of the corridor led to the kitchens and the right end to the restrooms.

          I ignored the fact that Inuyasha most likely saw the vivid red sign on the wall that proclaimed "Toilets" with an arrow pointing to the right for himself and probably didn't need me to lead him to it. But there was no way I was going to pass this chance up.

          "This way," I said merrily, voice a tad more high-pitched than usual, and scuttled down the corridor. Inuyasha probably thought I was the lowest kind of idiot. I certainly didn't blame him for giving me that incredulous look with that eyebrow gradually rising higher and higher across his forehead and that mouth sliding into a mocking smirk as if he couldn't believe I was actually…

          Hey…

          Halfway to the bathrooms, I stopped in my scuttle when I noticed that Inuyasha wasn't next to me anymore and looked over my shoulder. Inuyasha had, at some point a few steps back, discontinued our way to the bathroom and now lounged against the wall. From a hidden pocket in his silk clothes, he removed a slim, red box.

          Hey?!

          "What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice suddenly back to its normal pitch.

           Inuyasha glanced up at me and sneered. Without looking way, he removed a silver, paper-wrapped strip from the box and stuck it into his mouth unwrapped.

          I swiveled my gaze to the red box in his grip. Now that I focused on it, it wasn't actually a box but a packet of…

          Inuyasha's mouth moved, although the remainder of his face kept still. After a second, he pressed his lips together and spat at the ground. A soggy wad of the silver wrapping flew through the air and splattered to carpeted ground near my feet. Ignoring my shocked face, Inuyasha stuck a gooey, pink-covered tongue out, blew out a pink bubble, and snapped it with loud crack.

          A group of waiters hurried across the corridor with a platter of roast pork. None turned to look at the shiny, silver wad on the carpet.

          I stared, lip trembling as the lower regions of my body screamed for mercy, which only increased when it became clear that Inuyasha had no intention of continuing down the corridor.

          Chewing gum? That was it?

          "Don't you…toilets… you…" I stuttered incoherently.

          Right, this can be settled rationally. Regain your composure Kagome, it's not that hard, you've dealt with annoying people before, no need to get flustered over him. Deep breath in…out…

          "Why'd you ask if you didn't need to go the bathroom?" I snapped. I didn't bother mentioning which question I was talking about.

          Inuyasha blew another bubble at me.

          "You wouldn't care," he answered monotonously.

          I balled my fists at my sides. If my situation had not gotten so pitifully desperate, my response would have been drastically different.

          Putting aside my initial contempt for Inuyasha, I stalked a few steps forward and surprised the both of us by grabbing onto a sleeve of his silk jacket. I paused, taken back at my own actions for a moment, but plowed on anyway.

          "Look, I really need to… go, and I've had to go for hours and any moment now I'm going to explode." Maybe that was too much information, but Inuyasha neither reacted nor seemed to care so I continued. "I don't know how it's going to look if you go back without me… or… whatever! So--" I clenched his sleeve tensely, fully aware that the sweat from my palms was probably at this moment leaving a soak mark on the silk, and there were also a few strands of white hair caught in my fingers, but I pushed that thought out of my mind for the time being. "--Could you please… look I'm really, really need to go, so would you wait here for me while I'm gone? Don't go back to the table without me?"

          Inuyasha had that same look on his face again, as if his eyebrow was going to leap off his forehead at any moment. I could feel my eyes widening and my cheeks burning with desperation and embarrassment.

          Inuyasha shrugged. "Do whatever the fuck you want," he mumbled. "It's not as if I'm going back anytime soon."

          His noncommittal response seemed more affirmative then negative. Whether it was because he wanted to get rid of me or if he genuinely felt for my woe, however likely that was, remained to be seen. But the important thing is, he agreed!  

          Inuyasha started to blow a bubble again, but failed as I squeezed his arm happily.

          "Arigato gozaimasu!" I squealed. "Er… I mean, thank you! Dohjeh sai!"

          I let go of his arm and scampered toward the ladies' room. Right before I opened the door, just because it seemed appropriate, I turned around and said, "Sorry about bumping into you, you know, before…"

Inuyasha didn't respond, so I shrugged, entered the ladies' room and dashed into the nearest open stall, where I had the most relieving few minutes of my life.

He was still there when I walked out of the bathroom and I pretended it was because he was keeping his promise to me.

"Shall we go back then?" I chirped, finally free of pain.

Inuyasha didn't give me his incredulous look this time. He glared at me with his hard, gold eyes. The intensity of his glare was so thick that it was gold, if a glare's intensity can have a color. I found that aspect amusing, especially since the gold undoubtedly came from color eye contacts. Thus I decided to name it right then and there. Smiling slightly as his intensity deepened, I dubbed it, Inuyasha's Gold Stare. 

For some reason the intensity died off a tad bit once I stamped it with a name.

I looked back into the Gold Stare, wondering if I had done something to deserve it or if he was just an asshole (the more likely reason). When it became apparent after a few seconds that he was not going answer me, I shrugged.

"Suit yourself," I told him. Now that I had relieved myself, who cared about being rude? Obviously being in a state of pain had impaired my judgment the whole evening. "I'll just go back then… um, see you at the table!"

I whipped around and darted back to the table to get away from his Gold Stare, cursing my high-heels with every step. The adults were still chatting away and paid no heed to my return, making me feel that much more insignificant than ever. Oh wait, I am insignificant in the grand schemes of the music industry. How could I have forgotten?

Sighing, I let the bliss of not needing to pee wear away as Miroku's politics washed over.

I sat back wearily. I had temporarily forgotten my resentment only because Inuyasha had presented a solution to the bathroom (ew, that sounded dirty even in my head). I admit, it had been amusing to see Inuyasha's Gold Stare, and he really wasn't so intimidating anymore. Now that it was all resolved, my mind snapped back to the unfairness of the business matter at hand. Once again, I wondered, what made Inuyasha so important that Miroku and Sango were still sucking up to his manager?

At this moment, Myouga was scoffing at the recently successful musicians from Japan.

"Japanese pop stars these days have no style," Myouga complained, a kernel of rice wobbling on his upper lip.

"Is that so, Myouga sir?" Sango inquired, pointedly ignoring my stare.

"All they depend on is their talent," Myouga declared, smirking at the word talent. "They disregard the importance of reputation and charisma! Pah!" Rice kernels sprayed into the air.

"Indeed, Myouga?" Miroku said mildly.

"Obviously so!"

I wondered if I had the gall to glare to Myouga, but I decided not to risk things for Miroku. I settled for gawking at Miroku. That was a direct insult! Myouga not only had no tact nor musical awareness whatsoever, he was racist as well! And Miroku and Sango were just sucking it up?

"Ah, Inuyasha!" Myouga exclaimed.

I looked up as Inuyasha plopped down onto his seat. He did not appear to be chewing anything.

"We were just discussing the music business in Japan," Myouga explained to him. "I think you'd agree that the Japanese market would do immensely well if some, say, Chinese musicians were introduced to them? Hm? It certainly wouldn't hurt for them to sample music outside that little island, don't you think?"

It was small, it was subtle, but I definitely saw Inuyasha give a careful glance over to us Japanese folk. It was only a flicker of the eyes, but it was there.

And then, that's when I discovered the reason behind it all.

"If Naraku thinks so, then I don't see why you're asking me anything," Inuyasha replied, shrugging carelessly.

I blinked, and blinked again. My blood began to surge and my face tinted red as that name sunk in.

Myouga grunted importantly. "But of course!" he declared. "The word of Naraku Onigumo is never wrong." He grinned and inclined his head toward Miroku implicatively.  

Naraku Onigumo…

…

… an important figure in the society of Hong Kong because of his many contributions toward the greater public good. Such contributions came in forms of illicit guilty pleasures, namely prostitution and endorsement of the underground drug trade. His actions of late resulted in bloodshed and warfare within the darker areas of China and Taiwan. How this supported public welfare was apparent in that his dealings graced the newspapers all over China, and suddenly, the public had gained a sense of caution, and no more bloodshed came about. No public bloodshed at least.

An aura of mystery surrounds this figurehead. The strangest part was that although his doings were well documented, mostly, no matter how much the crime department of Hong Kong endeavored, nobody managed to find solid evidence linking Naraku to them. Even though it was common knowledge that he was the root of all the trouble, Naraku walked free into the world.

The fact that Naraku led, and still does, the Triads, the mafia, the leaders of organized crime in China was common knowledge as well.

However, lately, Naraku was quiet in criminal doings. Apparently, Naraku had switched over into other aspects of society, mainly entertainment. He had begun his own talent agency and quickly leapt into the industry. Unsurprisingly, every single prodigy he backed, no matter what the degree of talent was, came out wondrously successful. It made more than a few wonder how much Naraku had dipped into his Triad connections to supplement his new projects…

…

Thus far, my brother had managed to keep away from the Triads in his career. There were minor brushes with them in the days before the Accident. However, when I came to live with him, Miroku put in extra effort to avoid any sort of dealings with the mafia, so during my stay in Hong Kong, I had never encountered the Triads. But we all knew that it was only temporary. In the entertainment industry, encountering the Triads was inevitable.

Miroku smiled in response to Myouga's inclination of the head. "Who can deny it?" he said placidly. His gaze swiveled slightly toward me. "Who can deny the word of Naraku?"

I looked down and noticed that my hands clasped the table edge in a shivering grip. I let go abruptly and tried to breathe.

Naraku was involved. It explained so much, like Inuyasha's quick, easy rise to the top, like why Miroku and Sango were willing to be walked upon. Going against a Triad member was always a risky move, against a Triad boss was a sure mistake, especially one with Naraku's dark reputation. Of course Miroku had no choice but to cooperate, to accept a shoddy deal with unequal benefits and allow a junior, an inferior, use him as a step to greater success.

It was an answer, but it raised yet more questions to my mind. Why was Naraku interested in Miroku? Surely there were pop stars more profitable than my brother. What would Naraku do if Miroku refused the partnership with Inuyasha? Would he hurt Miroku?

Oh my god. I bumped into Inuyasha. I followed him to the bathroom. I grabbed his sleeve. I snapped at him. Was Naraku going to send a hit man after me for disrespecting his subordinate?!

I swirled the turn table around, snatched the cider bottle, and poured myself a hefty amount in my cup. I didn't look anywhere outside the amber liquid in my glass, I don't know how I would have reacted if I had set eyes on my brother. How could he do this? What had he done to get noticed by Naraku? Didn't he know how much more dangerous our livers were now? And Sango, she was Miroku's manager; it was her job to keep Miroku away from situations like this. She'd had two years of experience in this position; shouldn't she have known what she was doing at this point? Sango was supposed to be a genius!

Oh, I definitely wouldn't trust my reaction if I glanced at Myouga, pompous arrogant asshole he was. He seemed to be aware of the great power he wielded over us and he gleefully abused it. At this moment I wanted him to choke on that glob of rice he stuffed into his mouth, wanted him to turn blue and purple with suffocation for treating us so patronizingly. And I wanted more to happen to Inuyasha, the fucking, useless, talentless pop star. Who was he to leech off Miroku's success? Miroku actually worked for fame. Inuyasha only relied on his little mafia boss to lend him some glory. He deserved to be lying on the floor, twitching spasmodically, and die choking on his own vomit.

I shook my head and quickly gulped my cider. Right, no violent thoughts. Breathe in, breathe out, sip some cider, calm down…

It was happening again; I became so angered that I pictured violence. The first time was a few months after the Accident, and that had resulted in a fight. I couldn't let myself react that way now. I'm older, I have more control, I can relax, I can do it, I can.

And suddenly my throat constricted as the cider went down the wrong tube and my head pitched forward.

"Kagome! Kagome are you all right?!"

I coughed and spluttered and somebody began thumping my back. Hastily, I covered my mouth with my cloth napkin as liquid dribbled out and spilled onto the table cloth.

"I'm fine," I reassured Miroku as he took his hand from my back. Oops, now I was looking at him. I closed my eyes, willingly myself to calm down, and sighed. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Fuck, there's nothing to apologize for," somebody grumbled.

I glanced to the side just as Inuyasha looked away. Well excuse me... Crap, now Inuyasha was in my view. No violent thoughts Kagome, no violent thoughts…

"I think Kagome is just tired," Sango remarked and glanced at her watch. "It is getting quiet late. Shall we call it a night, Myouga sir?"

"I think so," Myouga replied and yawned widely, as if he had made the suggestion.

I was so relieved that I managed to give Sango a grateful look when Myouga and Inuyasha weren't looking.

We all exited the restaurant together amid bows and expressions of gratitude from the employees. Once outside, the adults shook hands with each other, Miroku and Sango thanking Myouga for treating them to dinner and Myouga replying that he had a wonderful time and hoped to see future outings like this. When Miroku shook Inuyasha's hand, he patted his shoulder and remarked, "I look forward to working with you." Inuyasha half-smirked and nodded slightly.

Naturally, no one bothered to shake my hand. I put in an effort and managed a generic smile and bid them fair well. For whatever reasons I didn't want to think about, Inuyasha glanced at me and I was once again treated with a Gold Stare. It only lasted a second. He turned away afterward without a word.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but at that moment, our driver, Jin, honked the car as he pulled up to the sidewalk. Oh well, maybe next time…

"That went a little better than I expected," Sango said, switching to Japanese, once we were safely in the car.

I watched as bright, neon lights from dance clubs swerved past. A girl standing on the sidewalk pointed in our direction and I looked away. "Better?" I asked in cold disbelief. "What were you expecting it to be like?"

Sango turned around in the front seat and eyed me curiously. "Are you still worried about bumping him into Inuyasha, Kagome? I wouldn't dwell on that too much. It's not as if you bruised him or anything and he wasn't angry."

"How do you know?" I mumbled in frustration. "Oh, never mind!"

Beside me, Miroku looked at me, but it was only until we were caught in a traffic jam five minutes away from home that he confronted me. Of course, he only confronted me in his own way by staring at me pointedly.

After a moment of the traffic, the honking, the shouts of angry drivers, and Miroku's staring combined, I finally relented.

"Why didn't either of you tell me Inuyasha was backed by the Triads?" I snapped irritably into the silence of the car. "Were you going to let me know at all? Were you just going to let me sit there and make a fool of myself? What are you both thinking? How could you-"

          "I had my reasons," Miroku interrupted. "And you didn't make a fool of yourself."

          "Yes I did! And don't change the subject Nii-chan! Why didn't you want me to know? Answer the question!"

          I heard Sango twitch uncomfortably in front of me as Miroku gave me another specific look. 

          "First, you have to calm down," Miroku told me and smiled in response to my bristled glare.

          "I know you were against any business deal I made with Gao Inuyasha," my brother continued. ("Were?" I squeaked.) "And you were like this when you didn't know about Gao-san's… connections. How do you think the evening would have gone if you had known about Naraku from the beginning?"

"I think it would have gone better than this!" Yeah, I'd have been smart enough to look where I'm going. I'd have known better than to bother Inuyasha goh-goh. I'd have gone to the bathroom before hand. Hell, I wouldn't have drunk so much cider to begin with.

"I don't think the night went as terribly as you seem to think," Miroku replied smoothly. "There weren't any fights, we had interesting discussions, and nobody was offended." He paused in thought. "Well, nobody reacted explosively to any offense," he added.

My mouth hung agape for a moment. "How can you be so calm about this?!" I realized the stupidity of that question (Miroku personified serenity, an action he'd proved over and over again) and threw my hands up in frustration.  

"Give us a little more credit, Kagome-chan," Sango said with a sigh. "We do know what we're doing and we are more than aware of what we're getting into. It's not as though it'd be different if Naraku weren't involved in any case."

That was a lie. That Naraku was in this made all the difference in the world. Sango was lying to me. Why was she lying? Why were they sheltering me from the truth? Why was I being treated like a child?

"But if you knew about it all along, what was the point of bringing me along?" I snapped. "I thought you just wanted me to realize that Inuyasha wasn't a threat to your career!"

Miroku tilted his head and regarded me with amusement. "Well, it would be nice if you didn't think that," he said thoughtfully.

I narrowed my eyes and turned away to the window. I didn't answer any attempts Miroku or Sango made to talk to me and shook off Miroku's fingers from my hair. 

Who cared if I was being immature? Obviously Miroku and Sango, the two people closest to me, did not have much trust in me. What was I supposed to do? Talk it out? Hell no, I wasn't in the mood to reconcile. I was the wronged one here. I deserved a good, everlasting sulk.

          When the car pulled to the curb, I didn't even wait for Jin to open the door for me. I stomped ahead into the apartment building and went up the elevator without them. As my luck went, I didn't have the key to the penthouse and was forced to wait for Miroku and Sango to arrive. I endured Miroku's amused glance aimed toward me as he unlocked the door and brushed past him before he could walk in.

          I didn't cry when I lay down to sleep that night. I almost did, but I didn't.

          Miroku was my brother, and I know he cared for me. But sometimes he cared so much that he tried to help in ways that hurt me. It wasn't his fault. Things just happen in ways that drive him to do the wrong thing. Like that time he brought Mama's viola back from Japan, I remembered experiencing overwhelming pain (although I admit, in the end, the viola situation worked out for the best… but that's not the point!).

          He tries his best; he does all he can to make up for my parents' absence. But what Miroku doesn't understand is that he's not my parent, he's my brother. Because of this, anything he does that remotely resembles parenthood comes out twisted and corrupted.

          There was knock on my door and it creaked open.

"Kagome?"

I rolled over and pretended to be asleep as Miroku padded inside and knelt down next to my bed.

"Kagome? Are you awake?" When I didn't answer, he sighed. "We'll talk in the morning, all right?"  

I felt his fingers brush my hair from my face and tuck the blanket closer to my body and a small tear slid down my cheek as he kissed me good night on the forehead.