InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty Hero ❯ The Gala: Part 1 ( Chapter 19 )

Thanks so much to all you reviewers!

 

In this chapter: The night from hell begins.

Guilty Hero

Chapter 18: The Gala (Part 1)

 

 

“Dammit!” The rare curse flew from Kagome's mouth as the heel of her shoe slipped off the edge of a step for what felt like the thousandth time. She had little practice climbing stairs in high heels, for her job as a nurse required tennis shoes more often than not, but climbing six flights of stairs in high heels was even worse. With a frustrated growl, she gripped the rail in one hand and tugged her shoes off with the other, deciding she didn't care how silly she looked at the moment.

Finally, once the offending items were off her feet, she stood up straight and sighed, blowing a stray tuft of hair out of her face. She knew the only reason her temper was going off was because she was nervous about the gala. Growing up, she could remember how the Peace Day Gala had always been a huge event, televised and broadcasted , but it was never something mere civilians could attend. She could recall being glued to the television screen the first year the gala occurred, eager to catch a glimpse of those powerful fighters with a near-godlike status who had saved the city from utter destruction. She had watched in awe as Miroku and Sango, both merely nineteen year-olds at the time, strode proudly across the stage to accept their medals, followed by a regal old woman who she now knew as Kaede. After Kaede, there had been a whole slew of demons, then a parade of brave police officers. Finally, after an enormous buildup, Inu-Yasha's name was called to accept the `Hero of the Year' award and the key to the city, but after an awkward silence, Sango and Miroku stepped forward to accept on the demon's behalf. There had never been an explanation given for his absence but, thinking back, she realized that the reason he had never showed was because he had been sitting in a dingy bar trying to drown out a memory so loudly celebrated by the rest of the city.

But now she was attending that famous event herself, alongside the main attraction of the evening. Even though she knew it was superficial of her and that she should be focused on Inu-Yasha, she couldn't help but shudder at the thought of herself being broadcasted by thousands of TVs across the city. She was so nervous that she hadn't slept a wink the night before, and then, while trying to figure out how to do her hair and makeup, she had grown so frustrated and upset that she simply brought all of her products to her mother's house and begged her for help.

Now, thanks to the care and attention only a mother can give, her hair and makeup looked better than she could have ever done on her own, and after an entire afternoon of voicing her fears and concerns to her very sympathetic mother, she had finally calmed down enough so that she no longer felt like vomiting. Still, now that the hour had arrived to actually go to the event, those nervous butterflies in the pit of her stomach had returned, and she had to do her best to keep calm. The whole reason she was attending the gala in the first place was to be there for Inu-Yasha, and it wouldn't do to be in an anxious fit the entire time. So, setting her mouth in a firm line, she hiked her dress up and quickly ascended the rest of the stairs, ignoring how un-lady-like she was being.

Once on the seventh floor, she slipped back into her heels, smoothed out her dress, and straightened her hair before slowly opening the door to Inu-Yasha's apartment. Truthfully, she had had a tiny worry seeded in the back of her mind that Inu-Yasha would not make it to the gala sober, despite Miroku's insistence that for the past five years that feat had been achieved, but when she walked into the living room she saw no signs of disobedience for the rule. There were no glasses or bottles sitting out, and the air smelled only of stale whiskey, not fresh. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, she called out, “Inu-Yasha? Are you there?”

The sound of a door opening greeted her statement, and soon Inu-Yasha emerged from the bedroom, fiddling with a disagreeable bowtie as he came down the hall. “Yeah, I'm here…” he grumbled, fixing his tie with a frustrated grunt. “Damn tie—uh…” He abruptly stopped speaking when he looked up at Kagome, who was staring right back at him with the same expression on her face.

Having never seen him in anything besides a hospital nightgown or ratty jeans and a dirty T-shirt, the shock of a crisp black tuxedo nearly knocked Kagome over. She had never expected to see him looking quite so elegant in his snow-white dress shirt and deep ebony cummerbund, his jacket fitting his frame perfectly and allowing his hair to stand out against the black. Adorning his feet were not his usual filthy sneakers, but shiny black leather dress shoes. She could hardly stop herself from staring at the stark difference from his usual appearance.

Inu-Yasha was in very much the same boat. His eyes couldn't help but wander over her graceful curves displayed by her form-fitting dress, made from a beautiful deep blue silk. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, pinned up with a crystal blue hair piece made of tiny jewels that shone in the light. He realized that the color of her dress made her ocean-blue eyes shine with color, and he could hardly keep himself from gaping at how lovely she was.

Suddenly, they both realized what they were doing and quickly averted their eyes, flushing from the awkward moment. For Inu-Yasha, it took a moment to recover. After spending the entire day up until now wallowing in memories, battling a severe bout of depression, and fighting the urge to drink himself senseless, being jarred out of his own thoughts by a beautiful woman walking into his apartment required time to regain his senses.

“U-um… Sorry I'm late,” Kagome said, breaking the silence. “I had to have my mother help me get ready, so it took longer than usual to get here. Plus with all of the festivities going on today, traffic was horrible.”

“Hmph. Damn stupid `festivities'…” he grunted, smoothing out the tie he had finally beat. “Why bother with `em all…” The deep depression returning along with his senses, he turned on his heel and trudged back into his bedroom to finish getting ready, making a small motion for Kagome to follow.

Recognizing his bleak mood in an instant, she tried to shake him out of his dismal thoughts. “So…” she began slowly. “How many people attend this gala? Sango and Miroku never really gave me specifics.”

He cast her a glance with dull gold eyes. “Here's a specific then: more people than you wanna know.”

She swallowed hard, the butterflies in her stomach stirring a moment before settling down again. “Oh. What about cameras? Is it like, there will be a camera in our faces all night long? Or are there only a couple wandering around the crowd? Because I would prefer to be off-camera as much as possible, despite my mother's wishes.”

Going over to his tarnished dresser and rummaging through a drawer, he replied, “There's too many cameras for my liking, but don't worry. I don't let camera-people hover around me all night long; they learned their lesson a couple years ago.”

Curious as to how that lesson was taught, Kagome wisely decided not to purse that subject, and instead posed another question. “All right. I'm glad to hear that. But what about all the other people—will we have to mingle? Because I'm fairly certain I won't know anyone else besides Sango and Miroku, and I'm so horrible at small-talk. Do we have to dance? Is there even dancing? I know it's a gala, but dancing is getting to be pretty uncommon nowadays—“

“Dammit, Kagome, just stop talking!” His harsh snap immediately silenced her. Scowling at himself, for he never meant to be so abrupt, he quickly turned back to his dresser and pulled out a brush that was buried in the bottom of the drawer. Shutting the drawer a bit harder than intended, he slowly walked over to a rather hurt Kagome and held out the brush.

“…Will you please help me?” he asked softly, trying to keep his tone as gentle as he could.

Kagome, recognizing this as his way of apologizing, nodded and grasped the brush, her feelings still smarting a bit from his attack. Following him over to the bed, she carefully sat down behind him and slowly started her work at the bottom of his silver locks, gently working out the small tangles.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly after they had sat in silence for a moment. “I'm just nervous. I didn't mean to add more problems to your day.”

“…I know,” he muttered in reply. Although she couldn't see from her position, his cheeks were flushed from embarrassment.

“You know…” she went on, feeling a little better that he had accepted her apology, “we've never actually talked about tonight. How does tonight usually go for you?”

He frowned slightly, not quite sure what she was getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” She continued her rhythmic motion with the brush, trying to think of the best way to phrase her query. “I imagine it must be very difficult to listen to all those speeches of people talking about the day you killed Naraku. Is there any point where it's most difficult for you to handle?”

A heavy sigh escaped him as he thought back to years prior. Truthfully, there wasn't any moment that wasn't hard to handle; he hated them all. Every second spent in that ballroom reminded him of a time that held only bad memories. All his smiles and all his actions he made during the gala were fake, mere facades to his true feelings of consuming depression and a deep heartache that made him want to slash the throats of those who gushed over his `heroic deeds'. During the entire gala he felt as though he were a time bomb, able to handle only so much stress before something in him would break and he would lose control.

He had been silent for so long that Kagome laid a hand on his shoulder and said in concern, “Inu-Yasha?”

Blinking, he glanced back at her, then mumbled, “I hate it all.”

With a sad smile, she resumed brushing his hair, working up a little higher and bringing the brush smoothly down. “Well, I just want you to know that if you need me for anything, I'll be right there.”

“What do you mean by that?” he grunted.

Pausing to think of a proper answer, Kagome set the brush down and gently tugged on his arm, making him turn around to look at her. “I have found that whenever I have to do something I don't like or don't want to do, things are much easier when I do it with someone. Having someone else there to be a comforting presence in an uncomfortable situation can make a world of difference. So, if you're having a hard time listening to a particular speech, or you feel uncomfortable accepting your medal, or anything like that, I just want you to know that I will be right at your side, whenever you need me.”

He stared at her, unable to think of a reply. A deep blush was staining his cheeks as guilt wormed its way into his chest, closing tightly in around his heart. Hardly able to stand it, he quickly turned away. “Hurry up,” he said softly, trying to keep the usual gruffness in his tone to hide the surge of emotion. “If we don't leave soon we'll be late meeting up with Sango and Miroku.”

Holding back a sigh of frustration, Kagome silently finished brushing his hair. She couldn't help but feel irritated by his response; she knew he was dealing with a slew of conflicting emotions, but he was reacting how he always did: brush them off or cover them up with gruff and bluster. She would never get anywhere with him this evening unless he opened up, and she knew from experience that bottling up feelings led only to more heartache.

Finally, she handed the brush back to him, then carefully stood and smoothed out her dress while he placed the brush back in the dresser. She followed him out of the bedroom and waited quietly by the front door as he bustled around, grabbing a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter for his pants pocket and filling his flask with whiskey for the inside pocket of his jacket. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the flask, for Miroku had told her that he wasn't supposed to drink at all until the gala was over, but she realized that Inu-Yasha probably snuck a sip or two when his superiors weren't looking.

At last, once he retrieved a very dusty, black longcoat from the back of his hall closet, he shrugged into it and met her at the door. “After you,” he growled, looking none too pleased at the thought of leaving his apartment.

“I thought you didn't wear coats,” Kagome mentioned as he followed her out the door and kicked it shut behind himself.

“I don't. Sango and Miroku made me buy this for appearances at the gala. Waste of money in my opinion.”

“Ah.” With that explanation, Kagome turned to look down the staircase, then sighed deeply. The trip upstairs had been challenge enough, but going downstairs in heels was even harder. Muttering under her breath, she bent down and started to tug off one of her shoes.

“What are you doing?”

She glanced up at Inu-Yasha, who was staring curiously at her. “Hey, I'd like to see you make it downstairs in these,” she replied, kicking one of her feet to display her footwear.

With a shake of his head, he simply replied, “No.” Then, before she could react, he had scooped her bridal-style into his arms and leapt over the railing. She was so surprised that she couldn't even let loose a scream—her mouth was clamped shut in shock. But, despite her initial surprise, she couldn't help but realize that she actually felt quite safe, even as six stories rushed past her head in a matter of seconds. Inu-Yasha's grip on her was strong, and she could almost feel some hidden power deep in his muscles that prevented him from losing control of the fall. The ride was over in moments, ending with a soft landing in the lobby.

Inu-Yasha, his expression never changing from the depressed, distant look he had carried all day, gently set her down, then strode over to the door as though nothing odd had happened. Kagome, regaining her voice, quickly joined him, and said softly, “Thank you.” She really was touched by the action.

With only a grunt in reply, he led the way to her car. They made a silent drive over to the Order's headquarters, where they were greeted by Sango, Miroku, and a black limousine.

“Well, well, well, Miss Kagome, you certainly look lovely this evening,” Miroku said by way of greeting, his eyes roaming quite freely over her as she climbed out of the car, pulling a shawl over her bare shoulders to protect herself from the bitter December chill.

Giving her partner's ear a sharp tweak, Sango frowned harshly at him and turned her attention to Inu-Yasha. “You look well,” she said, studying him carefully. “I trust you've been able to follow the rules for the day?”

A slight sneer tugging at his lips, he growled, “Do I look like I haven't followed the damn rules?”

“Hmph. With you, we can never be too careful. Now come along, we need to get going. We want to be fashionably late, not rude.” They all climbed into the limousine, each couple sitting across from the other once inside. Miroku, still rubbing one ear, rapped his knuckles against the panel between them and the driver's seat, and soon the car was on the road.

“Now…” Settling comfortably into his seat, he turned to Kagome. “I believe it's time that Sango and I give you a brief overview of how the evening is going to go…”

Inu-Yasha soon stopped paying any attention to the conversation and rested his head against the cool glass of the window. He tried to think on other things than the event they were headed for, but it was difficult to do; he only knew that he wanted the night to be over. Whiskey helped to speed up the horrible proceedings, but with that escape taken away from him five years ago, he could hardly stand the thought of going through the whole gala without some assistance. Of course, he went through this little ordeal every year on the ride to the event, but the familiarity hardly made it easier.

Glancing around at the inside of the limo, he scowled in disgust as he realized Miroku had conveniently taken the seat right next to the minibar. A couple of years ago he had been able to sneak a miniature bottle of scotch and had stuffed it in his coat for a trip to the restroom, giving himself a little relief and making the second half of the night slightly more bearable. This time, however, Miroku felt his gaze and, although he never paused in his conversation with an anxious Kagome, slowly stretched out his legs, blocking the door to the minibar and clearly sending Inu-Yasha the message of `don't even think about it'.

With a deep frown, Inu-Yasha crossed his arms and resumed staring out the window, which he found almost as depressing as the inside of the limo. Every street they passed he could see the remnants of the festival that had taken place earlier that day—confetti still littered the streets and sidewalks, banners with his face plastered on the front were still strewn over the fronts of stalls that had yet to be taken down, and every person on foot they passed waved jovially at the limo, knowing full well that someone important was inside and heading to the gala in the center of town.

He growled softly as they went by; fools, they were, all of them. His face shouldn't be up on banners or displayed in the city square or placed on buttons, or broadcasted on every television in the city. Sinking lower in his seat, he shut his eyes to block out the horrible sights of the city and dreamt of the whiskey waiting impatiently for him at home, inviting him inside and enveloping him in its amber embrace, smothering him more and more until he was lost in whiskey dreams. From there it would carry him away from this dreadful day and into a new one, where the only thing he had to deal with was a hangover and a rather overprotective nurse.

“Inu-Yasha.”

At the sound of his name, he scowled and opened one eye, peering irritably at Miroku. “What the hell do you want?” he snapped, displeased at being dragged back to reality.

Looking quite unsurprised by his harsh tone, Miroku replied smoothly, “I was just going to tell you that the mayor has something new planned this year, so the order of events is going to be slightly different.”

“Big deal. I don't pay attention to half that shit anyway.”

Sango, nowhere near as calm as Miroku, nudged Inu-Yasha's foot with her stiletto. “I sincerely hope you will be behaving more like a gentleman inside the ballroom,” implying that her statement was actually a demand.

“Hmph.” With his temper on edge, he was more than ready to pick a fight with his two superiors. However, when he sat up, ready tear into them, he caught sight of Kagome out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting silently in the other corner, looking rather pale and twisting her hands anxiously in her lap, her anxiety clearly showing through. The sight was enough for him to lose all his bristles, and he simply shifted on the seat, holding his tongue. It wouldn't do to add more stress to her evening by picking a fight in the car before the gala even started.

Miroku, surprised into silence by the fact that Inu-Yasha had backed down, resorted to looking out the window himself. “Hey, we're here—look, there's the Crater.”

The Crater was, quite literally, a giant hole in the ground, marking the center of the city. It was the site where Naraku had been vanquished, blown into a thousand pieces when the jewel had exploded, and leaving behind the hole in the earth. Now the Crater led to the entrance to the mayor's mansion, and their limousine had joined a rather long line of various cars, limousines, and taxis that were waiting to deposit their passengers at the front door.

“Oh, goodness…” Inu-Yasha heard Kagome moan softly, staring out at the vast sea of evening gowns, tuxedoes, and news crews.

“Now Inu-Yasha, don't forget what we told you about answering reporters' questions,” Sango said, bringing his attention off of his partner for the evening. “Avoid answering them if possible, but if you have to, just be sure and always give positive answers. Try and bring up your charity donations or your city surveillance duties, whatever it takes to keep them off your back, all right?”

In response to Kagome's confused expression, Miroku helpfully informed her, “To keep Inu-Yasha's reputation in good standing, the Order makes several large donations to charities during the year in his name. And we also consider the occasional demon fight to count as city surveillance, so it's not really a lie.”

“Oh…” Giving Inu-Yasha a glance to see what he actually thought about it, she received a rather disgusted scowl in response—he clearly cared very little about his reputation.

“And as for you, Miss Kagome, you will probably be asked several question about the nature of your relationship with Inu-Yasha. We don't really want to spread the fact that he has a personal nurse, for that will bring up far too many awkward questions, so you are to tell them that you are his girlfriend, all right?”

“Excuse me?” Kagome was certain this was a joke, but the look on Miroku's face was quite serious. Feeling her cheeks growing hot, she looked over at Inu-Yasha and saw he was flushing too, although he kept quiet, settling only to glare at Miroku. “A-all right…”

“Excellent.” Sango peered out the window, then pulled her own shawl tighter around her shoulders. “And with that said, I think it's time to face the music. Miroku?”

“Coming.” Miroku quickly moved over to be by the door so he could exit the limo first; there was a particular protocol to be followed when leaving the car, which was men first, partners second. He waited calmly until the limo came to a stop, smiling around at everyone in the car. “Let's have a good evening, all right?”

Inu-Yasha managed to get in one last scowl before the door was opened and the deafening lights and sounds battered the souls inside the car. The crowd of people waiting outside the mayor's gate whooped and clapped as they saw Miroku climb out with a broad grin, waving as several cameras flashed. Turning around, he reached into the limo to help Sango out, whispering, “It's a big crowd out there this year, huh?”

As there was another wave of shrieks and clapping as Sango joined her partner, Inu-Yasha sighed heavily and cast Kagome a look out of the corner of his eye. “Our turn…” he muttered, sitting up and smoothing out the front of his coat. “Let's get this ov—“ He stopped abruptly, realizing Kagome was ghostly white and clutching the front of her shawl as though it were a lifeline. “Kagome?”

Blinking suddenly, she gave him a wavering smile and said, “Go. I'm ready. Let's do this.” The tremor in her voice betrayed her, but she waved Inu-Yasha out.

With one last concerned look at her, he finally emerged from the limo, and when he did it was as though all hell had broken loose. Thunderous applause assaulted his ears, made only louder by shrieks and screams while dozens of camera flashes temporarily blinded him. He decided, much as he hated it, he owed Sango and Miroku one for not allowing him to drink today; having a hangover in this environment would have been the end of him.

A broad smile stretching uncomfortably across his face as he blinked the spots out of his vision, he waved once at the crowd, which only increased the tremendous noise and pounded his poor ears even more. Wishing he could climb back into the limo rather than just reach inside, he turned around and reached his hand to Kagome, who was looking as though she might faint.

“It's fine,” he grunted softly. “I'll punch anyone who gets too close to us, all right?”

Choking out a short laugh, Kagome slowly laid her trembling hand in his, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The action surprised her so much that, for a moment, she forgot her fear. He had never been one to show any signs of affection, but that… Well, she had to admit, she did feel better being able to cling to a familiar presence. Taking a deep breath, she slowly got out of the limo, then nearly jumped back inside when the crowd let loose a new wave of applause.

However, Inu-Yasha kept a firm grip on her hand and whispered, “Nu-uh. If I can't do that, you can't do it either.” Then he smoothly offered her his arm.

Her other hand clutching at her shawl, she slowly entwined her arm in his, and together they walked through the crowd. Inu-Yasha, although he was still able to keep a suave smile on his face, couldn't help but release a small growl that only Kagome heard, for he was constantly brushing aside autograph requests and digital cameras thrust into his face. Kagome was having much the same problem, but she simply clung tighter to his arm and kept her eyes on the sidewalk, having to fight hard to continue to smile without her lips trembling.

During the entire journey, their progress was also dogged by news reporters who had swarmed the limo as soon as it had arrived. Several times they had microphones thrust at them, all the while the reporters were screaming questions at them to try and be heard over the din of the crowd.

“Mr. Inu-Yasha, is it true you have withdrawn support of Muso?”

“Mr. Inu-Yasha, why did you suddenly decide to make a public appearance at a rally after so long in solitude?”

“Miss Higurashi, what is your relationship with Inu-Yasha?”

“Miss Higurashi, how long have the two of you been going out?”

“Are things serious between you two?”

“Mr. Inu-Yasha, will there be any more incidents like the one six years ago?”

Inu-Yasha, whose pace and breathing had quickened as he tried to escape the reporters and hold his temper at the same time, suddenly stopped dead. As the new reporters surged around them, hardly daring to believe that the mighty Inu-Yasha might actually stop and answer their questions, Kagome crept as close to him as possible and whispered, “Please, Inu-Yasha, let's just get inside the gate. We're almost there…” She had been informed by Miroku that any reporters except those hired by the mayor were allowed past the gate.

Although he did not say a word, and although his smile never faltered, he slowly turned and, ignoring the other questions shouted to his face, snaked his hand through the sea of microphones to the grab the microphone of the reporter who had asked the last question. He then broke the appliance in two, dropped the two pieces to the ground, then turned back around and strode through the gate with Kagome nearly running to keep up. The crowd of people cheered wildly at his action while the reporters, hardly fazed, snapped picture after picture through the iron bars of the gate.

“Thank god that's over with…” Inu-Yasha grumbled, letting go of Kagome's arm.

“Inu-Yasha, how did they know my name?” Kagome asked him worriedly as they walked down the beautiful stone walkway that led to the mansion's front door. “I don't recall ever giving it out…”

“They needed both our names for the introductions, seating, whatever. Miroku only told it to the planner for this damn thing, but those grubby reporters get their claws in everything.” He glanced down at her concerned expression. “Don't worry about it. You'll be outta the papers in a week or two.”

“A week or two?!”

“Ah, there you are,” Sango said suddenly, walking up to them and helpfully getting Inu-Yasha out of an awkward situation. “You sure took your time. Inu-Yasha, you didn't punch a reporter this year, did you?”

Looking away, he replied boredly, “No…”

Hardly believing him, she turned away, making a gesture for them to follow. “Come on. They're waiting for us inside.”

With a sigh, Inu-Yasha once again took Kagome's arm. When she gave him a questioning glance, he muttered, “We're going to have to do this again when we enter the ballroom anyway. Might as well do it now.” She noticed a slight blush on his cheeks, but it could have been the remnants of barely contained anger towards the reporters. Still, she couldn't help but smile a bit, and stepped a little bit closer to him as they climbed the white marble stairs to meet Sango and Miroku at the door.

A young man with light brown hair, wearing the uniform of a black vest and pinstripe trousers, was waiting for them the moment they stepped past the monstrous polished oak doors of the mansion and into the massive foyer. “Good evening. My name is Hojo, and I shall be taking care of you this evening. If you will please follow me?”

Kagome, being the only one who had not been inside the mayor's mansion, was the only one staring about in wonder at the rare painting, fine rugs, and beautiful sculptures that the mayor adorned his home with as they followed the young man to the ballroom. Inu-Yasha had to nudge her to get her to focus when they arrived, but once inside, she couldn't help but gape once again.

The ballroom was easily the largest room in the mansion; there was plenty of room for the stage, the orchestra, and all of the tables for every guest to sit at, with room left for a dance floor. Looking up, there were enormous crystal chandeliers hanging at even intervals from a beautifully painted ceiling. At the tables, all of the chairs had seats of velvet, while crystal goblets and fine china adorned the tabletops, encircling a centerpiece of rose petals and candles floating in a glass bowl of water.

Kagome was rather rudely broken from her admiration as suddenly applause started up again, starting softly, but growing to an incredible volume. Although their entrance was not announced, some of the guests who were already seated caught sight of the most famous party at the gala, and started clapping, and the action caught on until the entire room was on their feet in applause. Very surprised, Kagome turned to Miroku and Sango, who had honest smiles on their faces.

“I don't believe it…” she heard Sango whisper to Miroku. “Eight years it's been, and they still stand for us. This is so embarrassing…”

Confused, Kagome asked Inu-Yasha softly, “Why are they clapping?”

Now that he no longer had to impress the general public and the press, his smiling facade had gone, replaced with the depressed expression that he so often slipped into. Looking down at her, he finally muttered, “…They think we're heroes…”

As Hojo led them to a table right in front of the stage, for they were guests of honor, they all paused, Sango and Miroku giving a short wave, blushing madly. Inu-Yasha did give a half-hearted wave as well, but Kagome could see that he was certainly not feeling the same as Sango and Miroku were about it.

“Inu-Yasha, all of you are heroes,” she said in confusion as Hojo gallantly pulled her chair out for her. Miroku, who was doing the same for Sango, looked over at Inu-Yasha, who was watching Hojo like a hawk, his lip twitching as he held back a snarl. Casting a Sango a knowing grin, Miroku sat next to her, his arm already around her waist before he was on the chair.

“Watch it…” she muttered under her breath.

“Hmph.” Inu-Yasha leaned back in his chair and looked away. “I'm no hero. I wish they wouldn't clap; it's embarrassing and damn stupid.”

With a soft sigh, Kagome replied, “Whatever you seem to think, they believe you are a hero, and this is their way of showing you that. You can't blame them for wanting to show you their gratitude.”

“…Whoever said I wanted their damn gratitude?”

“Inu-Yasha.” Sango said his name sternly, hoping to get his attention. “Please. Don't get angry so early on. The gala hasn't even started yet.”

With a slight glare at her, he finally turned away, doing his best to avoid catching the eye of any other guest in the room.

Hojo, who had been waiting patiently for their conversation to end, stepped up to the table and said politely, “We are still bringing in guests to be seated, so it will be a few more minutes. May I get you a drink for the wait?”

“Red wine.”

“White wine.”

“Red wine, please.”

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

Two sets of eyes turned to give Inu-Yasha a silent reprimand as Hojo bustled off, but Kagome held herself back. She knew he was no doubt frustrated by the events up until now, and being rebuked for ordering a drink was only going to heighten his temper. Instead, she reached over and put her hand over his, gaining his attention.

“What?” he snapped, mistaking her invitation to talk as the beginning of a verbal complaint about his drink of choice.

Smiling despite his harsh tone, she said, “I just wanted to thank you for earlier, when we were getting out of the limo. You knew I was nervous, and what you did was very kind. So thank you.”

“Well—uh…” Ready to bite back at what he had expected as an attack, he stumbled over his words for a moment before looking away and mumbling, “Whatever. I was nervous the first time around too… And I hate crowds…”

“Me too.”

His scowl lightening slightly by her agreement, he and Kagome sat silently, people-watching while Sango and Miroku chatted softly. After a few minutes, Hojo returned with a tray of drinks, handing Miroku and Kagome the red wines, Sango her white, and Inu-Yasha his tumbler of whiskey clinking with ice cubes. Inu-Yasha, so intent for the drink, never noticed Sango and Miroku studying him closely as he took a long swallow. Kagome was a little confused by their actions, but Inu-Yasha was soon able to explain.

“Ugh…” he muttered, setting the tumbler back on the table. “Dammit, I don't know why I even bother…”

Kagome, who noticed Sango and Miroku sitting back with pleased smiles, asked, “What's wrong?”

Looking quite disgusted, he flicked the side of the tumbler with a claw. “It's all watered down. Whiskey-flavored water. I assume bigmouth Miroku told you about what happened the second year of the gala?”

“Yes…”

“Well, after that, the mayor instructed the bartender to water down anything I ordered, damn him. They don't want a repeat of that, I guess…”

“Hm. Speak of the devil.” Miroku pointed off to the left, where they saw a portly gentleman with a bushy white mustache quickly descending some stairs and heading straight to their table. “It seems he got wind of our arrival.”

“Good… good evening!” the mayor said breathlessly, once he arrived. “I heard you were here, and I came as quick as I could.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Whew. Well, good evening, Sango, Miroku. I trust the two of you are doing well?”

“Very well, thank you sir,” Sango replied smiling brightly at him. Despite having been yelled at not too long ago by him, the Order was actually on very good terms with him, and she and Miroku liked him quite a bit. He was a good-natured man with every intent to take good care of his city, not to make profit from it. They were quite sad to see him step down from his post as mayor.

“And Inu-Yasha. I'm so glad to see you could make it this year; how are things in your life?”

Inu-Yasha smiled sourly at him; even though he did agree with the mayor's viewpoints about running a city, he always felt as though the mayor purposefully made cracks about his actions the first two years of the gala to insure that he would behave well the current year. It made him feel like he was being slapped on the nose like a small child.

“Things are just great,” he replied, his tone clearly implying otherwise with its sickly sincerity. “And I of course wouldn't miss this. It's my favorite event of the year, you know.”

“Of course, of course. Oh, and before I forget…” Reaching a gloved hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, the mayor pulled out a rather large tin and opened it, displaying the contents to Inu-Yasha. “I know you do enjoy my cigars. Would you care for one?”

Forgetting his displeasure in a moment, for he did like the mayor's rather fine selection of cigars, he pulled one out, nodding his thanks. This little interaction happened every year; Inu-Yasha would bristle at the mayor's initial comment, but the gift of a cigar always calmed him back down, and he was usually able to keep his temper around the man for the rest of the evening. It was a little ritual the two shared.

Snapping the tin shut and tucking it back in his pocket, the mayor then turned to Kagome, giving her a very warm smile as he peered at her through a very small pair of glasses. “Now, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. May I have your name?”

Kagome, who was understandably flustered being greeted by the most powerful man in the city, the man who had literally helped rebuild the city after Naraku's reign of destruction, flushed a deep red and placed her hand in his proffered one. “Kagome Higurashi,” she said quietly.

“Enchante, Miss Higurashi,” he replied, his bushy mustache tickling the back of her hand as he kissed it, not realizing that Inu-Yasha had paused in the lighting of his precious cigar to stare unblinking at the interaction, the grip of his teeth on the end of the cigar growing tighter.

Straightening, he addressed the whole table once more. “Well, I hope you enjoy the program tonight. Are you all ready to lead the dance?”

“Of course, Mr. Mayor. Sango and I practiced yesterday to make certain we were prepared, right my dear?”

A light blush staining her cheeks, she shot a glare in his direction and replied, “Yes, Miroku we did.”

They were so busy chatting that they never noticed the soft squeak Kagome emitted after hearing the mayor's question. Leaning over to Inu-Yasha, who was enjoying the first drag of his cigar immensely, she asked, “We're going to lead the dance? No one ever told me that!”

“Nobody told you? Well yeah, the four of us go out there first. It's only for a couple minutes, then everybody else joins in. That's usually when I pull out.”

Swallowing hard, she slowly nodded and sat back. “Thank goodness… I'm dreadful at dancing. Are we going to be on camera for that?”

He nodded boredly, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Oh…” Kagome put rested her head in her hand and fell quiet.

“Inu-Yasha?” The mayor suddenly turned his attention on the demon. “I was wondering if I could speak privately with you for a moment. Would you come with me?”

Giving Sango and Miroku a mixed look of surprise and confusion, which was returned back to him, Inu-Yasha nodded and slowly stood, following the mayor as he led to the stairwell, which was devoid of people and thus a good place to speak.

“Listen, Inu-Yasha…” the mayor began, his usual warm, friendly smile replaced with a somber expression and a serious tone. “I know you and I have had some rough times over the years—“

Inu-Yasha raised an eyebrow at the comment. `Rough times' wasn't exactly how he'd put the screaming sessions the mayor, Sango, and Miroku had put him through after the first two galas.

“—but the time has come to get over our differences. As you know, this is my last year doing this gala, and every year prior to this I just feel like I haven't quite gotten my intentions across. So I'm going to say this, and I hope you believe me.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Inu-Yasha, I cannot thank you enough for the service you did for this city. This place means more to me than almost anything, and during that war I was at my wit's end on how to protect her. Then you swooped in and saved the day, and…”

He suddenly paused and waved his hand, swallowing hard. The war had been a very tough time for him, and he had always found it difficult to talk about. “Well, I just want to say, Inu-Yasha, you have my most sincere gratitude.” He grasped Inu-Yasha's hand in his own and gave it a very firm handshake. “Now, I can't say I really know much about you, but I do know two things. You like your whiskey, and you like my cigars, and while I'm not going to give you any drink, I am—“ he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tin. “—going to give you this. I know it's not much, and hardly anything compared to what you have done for me, but at least I know you like them. So please, take it.” And he held the tin out for Inu-Yasha to take.

Inu-Yasha, who had remained silent during the entire speech, stared at the tin for a moment before looking away, looking rather grieved. “I can't accept those,” he said quietly. “I don't deserve your gifts or your gratitude. Give that to Sango or Miroku, or anyone else who was there that day. Just not me.”

“Now, Inu-Yasha, stop being so modest. You deserve just as much, if not more credit than anyone else.”

A snarl tugging at his lips, he growled, “No I do not. I'm not taking those.”

“Too bad, my friend. I'm giving them to you.” Noticing that the din from the ballroom was increasing as the room started to fill, the mayor shoved the cigar tin into Inu-Yasha's hand and quickly stepped back. “Thank you for everything you've done,” he said, walking away as Inu-Yasha tried to hand the tin back. “Enjoy the gala.” And then he disappeared out of the stairwell.

Inu-Yasha stood still for a moment, looking down at the tin clutched in his fist. He hated these galas for a reason; gratitude was the last thing he wanted to receive for Peace Day, but it was all he ever got. Heaving a sigh, he trudged out of the stairwell and back to the table, collapsing in his chair and trying to ignore the looks that Sango, Miroku, and Kagome were giving him.

“Well?” Sango asked expectantly. “What did he say?”

Giving her a glare, he said shortly, “Nothin'. Now shut up.” Then he grabbed his tumbler and drained the rest of the liquid, grimacing as he realized that he had forgotten its contents. Still feeling everyone's eyes on him, he slumped further in his chair and crossed his arms, puffing on his cigar and staring at the floor.

“Did the mayor just give you his cigars?” Miroku asked despite the order, spotting the tin sitting on the table next to the empty tumbler.

Inu-Yasha stubbornly ignored the question, staring at his shoes with a deep frown. Miroku, with a shrug, went back to his conversation with Sango.

Kagome, however, looked carefully at Inu-Yasha. She knew something must have happened, for he seemed to be even more depressed than before, but she was unsure if she should test his patience or not. But concern won out, and she slowly leaned in closer to him, hoping to make their conversation more private. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.

His dull golden eyes flicked up at her, his expression never changing. “No,” he replied after a moment. “I'm not.”

Surprised that he had not denied it, she said, “Do you need to talk about anything?”

“I said I wasn't fine. I never said I wanted to talk about it.”

Holding up her hands to show she wasn't going to push him, she replied softly, “That's fine. Just don't forget what I told you earlier—I'm right here if you need me.”

It was then when the lights in the room dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd of people that had amassed. A spotlight shone directly onto the stage, and soon the mayor emerged from the velvet curtain to the sound of applause.

Inu-Yasha, the only one in the room not joining in, muttered under his breath, “And so it begins…”

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There we go, all fifteen pages of it. I do hope you enjoyed part one, and stay tuned for part two! Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a review!