InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Head Over Heels ❯ Hells Bells ( Chapter 21 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: hedgehogmadhatter 
“I’m not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose… it’ll be much harder to detect.” George Carlin
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.15.2006 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 437 | Status: Completed
“I’m not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose… it’ll be much harder to detect.” George Carlin
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.15.2006 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 437 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty One
Hells Bells
Hells Bells
Sesshomaru:
The bedroom was empty and all of the witch's belongings were gone. I thought I'd find her in the kitchen but all that awaited me there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Egg shells and a bacon carton sat on the counter next to an empty plastic Ramen noodle bowl.
Either Kagura had tried to commit a slow suicide via a high cholesterol diet or the half breed had arrived. I detected the stench of his mixed blood in the house verifying his presence and that of his human miko. The witch was gone.
Unconsciously I crushed the plastic noodle bowl in my left hand, knowing she'd fled my house because of our confrontation. There was no letter so she'd left the ball in my court.
The bedroom was empty and all of the witch's belongings were gone. I thought I'd find her in the kitchen but all that awaited me there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Egg shells and a bacon carton sat on the counter next to an empty plastic Ramen noodle bowl.
Either Kagura had tried to commit a slow suicide via a high cholesterol diet or the half breed had arrived. I detected the stench of his mixed blood in the house verifying his presence and that of his human miko. The witch was gone.
Unconsciously I crushed the plastic noodle bowl in my left hand, knowing she'd fled my house because of our confrontation. There was no letter so she'd left the ball in my court.
I didn't have to call her to know that she'd left here and gone to work. She was stubborn beyond all reason and loyal to that infernal store even though she pretended to hate it. She'd also lied to me about Inuyasha being there. Did she think he needed her protection? What the hell was going on in her brain and why did I still care?
Damn Kagura!
Any other woman I would have thrown to the street for much, much less than this, but the witch held an undeniable sickening power over me. She was my greatest hunger, my strongest passion and my worst enemy. My mantra has always been that it's wise to keep one's friends close and one's enemies even closer and I hated every moment she was out of my reach.
Shouting erupted in the living room and I decided to avoid Inuyasha, no matter how entertaining his fights with the human girl might be. I opened the door that led to the back stairs and slipped down the stair well taking the steps two at a time.
Perhaps the witch was best left alone to simmer in her own demons. I'd check in with her tomorrow and shake her down until all the cards she kept hidden from me were face up on the floor.
_-_-_-_
Kagura:
I stopped by my apartment and dashed in for a fast change of clothes. It was only 2:30 and I could make up for missing a morning of work if I hurried.
Sushi sat in his bowl looking bored. Once I flipped the light switch he danced about excited to have something to watch beside the shadows that visited our apartment. Poor guy, I was a horrible fish mom and I turned away from him, lest I succumb to the guilt of fishy neglect.
My answering machine was blinking and I pressed the message button, not because I cared who'd called just that the blinking was annoying. Of course it was Sango.
“Kagura, you home yet? Well call me soon. I didn't like letting that strange guy take you home and wanted to see if you are okay.” I could hear a mix of curiosity and worry grating in her voice.
BEEP. The mechanical voice announced, “Next new message.”
A squeaky yet low voice, the kind one would only associate with a serial killer filled my living room. “Mistress of the Winds, I will return to install your video surveillance system after the first of the New Year.”
Great! It was Jaken, and after I'd told Sesshomaru no more security at my house. It was good I was distancing myself from him. The man wanted to take over every aspect of my life.
_-_-_-_
I changed quickly into a long wrap around skirt, black sweater and my big black high heeled boots. They were stylish with ass kicking slim heels. I wore them whenever I needed to feel tough or at least wanted to look the part. Imagine that, a wind yokai needing a security blanket, or in this case boots, ironic isn't it?
I was at the bookstore just in time to catch the party. Bells chimed over my head as I pulled open the door and saw the crowd gathering in the middle of the store. What the hell, had someone been hurt? The place stank of wet smoke and a grey haze hung in the air.
I slipped between three old ladies, jabbed one of our regulars, a middle aged wrestling coach, in the gut with my elbow and made my way to the front of the crowd. Miroku stood over Kohaku with the boy's collar in his fist. For once the teen appeared duly cowed and his eyes avoiding Miroku's.
I slipped between three old ladies, jabbed one of our regulars, a middle aged wrestling coach, in the gut with my elbow and made my way to the front of the crowd. Miroku stood over Kohaku with the boy's collar in his fist. For once the teen appeared duly cowed and his eyes avoiding Miroku's.
Wild horses couldn't have kept me away now. I had to find out what happened. That's when I noticed everyone's hair and clothing were wet and the fire sprinklers were still dripping. Oh shit.
The little punk had finally done it. He must've almost burned down the store. My theory was validated by the siren of fire truck as it skidded to a fast stop in front of the curb.
A tall man with in boots and a yellow helmet lumbered through the door shaking his head in disgust. “Youse guys! Didn't your mamas teach ya, that you're supposed to evacuate during a fire? Get the hell outta here!”
I watched with raise brows. Oh goody, I've always had a thing for firefighters. But this one turned out to be a little older than I would've liked.
The crowd spun to face him then nearly trampled an old lady when everyone tried to squeeze through our skinny doorway at the same time. I don't know why they were in such a hurry. Perhaps they were a bit concerned they might end up accessories to murder because Miroku was breathing fire and Kohaku stills squirmed in his grasp like a worm on a hook.
Sango was no where to be seen. I watched wishing I had a bag of popcorn.
The fireman stepped between Miroku and Kohaku, gingerly taking the boy from our boss's shaking hands. “Sir you al'right?”
Miroku's hair fell forward hiding his dark expression, “I left him at the coffee bar and he burned it down.”
I spun on the slim heels of my boots and felt my long skirt swinging around my legs. Indeed the coffee bar was a smoking pile of lumber. Honestly it was almost an improvement but this really wasn't the time to point that out.
Kohaku shook his head, “I just left an empty coffee pot on the burner, it's metal… how's I supposed to know it'd catch fire?”
Miroku's voice was low, steady and even I was off put by the quiet rage, “Because you never leave anything unattended on a hot burner, you little bastard!”
Kohaku threw up his hands over his face in mock defense. At that moment I noticed how large they were and wondered if he would get the chance to grow into them before Miroku killed him. Much to my chagrin the miscreant had the balls to point a finger in my direction. “What the fuck man? The wind bitch does it all the time! It wasn't a big deal, I just forgot.”
I'd like to think that all rescue people have cat like reflects but this fireman wasn't fast enough to keep Miroku from leaping for the boy's throat.
Lucky for Kohaku, the preacher in training was a mere mortal. “You just forgot! How could you forget? You always forget! Kohaku, if you ever set so much as a foot in this store again! If I ever see you again… What the hell is wrong with you! Why I oughtta…”
At this point the fireman pulled Kohaku out of Miroku's reach but not before the boy got a face full of Miroku's wrath. A police officer approached me with a pen in his hand, “Miss, this store is a restricted area and you need to leave now.”
I shook my head, “Wish I could but I work here.”
He frowned at me over his notepad, “Okay then ya can stay but wipe that smile off your face.” He pointed a thick finger towards Miroku who was actually turning purple. “It ain't good for you.”
What the hell? Then I realized I was grinning. What on earth is wrong with me?
Oh well, I could spend years trying to sort that one out, instead it was more interesting to tail the cop. He paused beside the fireman taking stock of damage. “Sir,” The cop called to Miroku. “Will you be pressing charges?”
Miroku's face fell and I saw his heart beneath his rage. As much as he wanted to hang Kohaku by his own intestines, Miroku couldn't toss the boy to the wolves and let the cops cart him off to jail. After all he'd been after Sango for years and wasn't sure how much he could afford to jeopardize it. That and he honestly had a soft, compassionate, human heart and couldn't leave a boy to rot in jail beside the scum that passed for human beings in our city jail.
He sighed, “No, my insurance will cover it on the basis of a faulty coffee maker.” Then he lifted his head and met the boy's shaky gaze, “But I will never forget this Kohaku.”
The fireman's grip on the teen's arm loosened and Kohaku relaxed, “Son this is your lucky day. Stay put so we can take your statement.”
Then he removed his heavy yellow helmet and frowned as he looked up studying our old tin ceiling. “Hey mister, are you the manager or owner?”
Miroku gritted his teeth, “The owner.”
The fireman gave a long whistle, “Well then you should know your fire alarm and sprinklers ain't up to code and that's gonna be at least a twenty five hundred dollar fine. You can't reopen until the fine is paid and the system is updated.”
Miroku paled and leapt for Kohaku but the boy ducked out of the fireman's grasp and hit the ground running. He was out the door and gone before I could even think to stop him. Miroku cursed then punched a bookcase. The shelves collapsed, spilling Star Trek serial novels all over the wet floor. I sighed, oh yeah today could only get better.
_-_-_-_
The police and fire department hung around a good two hours taking statements and pictures. Mrs. Rogers, the woman who lived in the apartment beside the store told the police, “Of course it burnt down. Don't you know that store is run by the Japanese mafia?”
The cop frowned but kept scribbling notes, “The Japanese mafia? Ya don't say.”
She widened her eyes and continued on in a conspiratial whisper, “It's a sushi ring!”
He pocketed his pen, “Mam you do realize that sushi is a food, not an illegal substance?”
The middle aged shut in railed, “No one EVER listens to me! Those people ain't right, but you just watch and when I'm right you'll all be sorry.”
Now one might suppose that I've been picking on Mrs. Rogers. With her abject paranoia she was an easy target. But I'd like to take this moment to say, I've never even spoken to the woman. She was just further proof of the wackiness in this world we all share.
It was almost sunset before we were alone in the store left to sort out our next move. A good part of our inventory was soaked and the rest would never recover from the smoke damage. The books had all absorbed the stink of the wet smoke and would been unreadable.
We were standing in a few inches of water, my feet made sloshing noises as I meandered around at my leisure surveying the damage. While I'd never been a huge fan of Miroku and his wandering hands, still he didn't deserve this. Hell, did anyone?
Miroku just stood in the middle of the store with his hands in his pockets looking down at his imitation black leather shoes. His shoulders shook as I watched, disgusted to feel great waves of pity pooling in my gut.
Emotional situations really aren't my bag. I hate seeing other people cry, especially men. I never know what to say and my empathy skills are sadly lacking. Maybe it's because I'm blaringly out of touch with humanity or it could be that I've wasted my energy on the non-breathing residents of this world and am left with too little to share.
I put a cautious hand on his shoulder and Miroku lifted his head, shocking me with his grin. The shit was laughing not crying. I really wanted to punch him. “How is this funny?”
He shook his head, “How isn't it funny? It's a sign from God that I was not meant to own a bookstore.”
Miroku just stood in the middle of the store with his hands in his pockets looking down at his imitation black leather shoes. His shoulders shook as I watched, disgusted to feel great waves of pity pooling in my gut.
Emotional situations really aren't my bag. I hate seeing other people cry, especially men. I never know what to say and my empathy skills are sadly lacking. Maybe it's because I'm blaringly out of touch with humanity or it could be that I've wasted my energy on the non-breathing residents of this world and am left with too little to share.
I put a cautious hand on his shoulder and Miroku lifted his head, shocking me with his grin. The shit was laughing not crying. I really wanted to punch him. “How is this funny?”
He shook his head, “How isn't it funny? It's a sign from God that I was not meant to own a bookstore.”
Miroku tilted his head watching me as I bent over and began pulling off my boots. “What the hell are you doing?”
I shrugged, “These boots are too nice to ruin here, especially if there is a chance you aren't reopening the store, I might need to pawn them or something.”
He grinned, “Well if I don't reopen you will be the best dressed person in the unemployment line.”
I hopped over the cash register where I kept a secret spare set of cheap sneakers. “Well are you going to reopen?”
He kicked a burnt stool, “I don't know. I have insurance and a small savings but is it worth it?”
I shrugged, “These boots are too nice to ruin here, especially if there is a chance you aren't reopening the store, I might need to pawn them or something.”
He grinned, “Well if I don't reopen you will be the best dressed person in the unemployment line.”
I hopped over the cash register where I kept a secret spare set of cheap sneakers. “Well are you going to reopen?”
He kicked a burnt stool, “I don't know. I have insurance and a small savings but is it worth it?”
Miroku tossed his head and frowned as he studied our intricate painted tin ceiling. “That Barnes and Nobles a few blocks over is killing us. It's only a matter of time before they finish the job.”
I finished tying my sneakers choosing to ignore the dull pounding starting behind my temples. “What you need is a gimmick.”
He smiled softly, “Okay then Gypsy Rose Lee, hit me. What gimmick could save this place?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “I didn't mean that kind of gimmick. I'm not stripping.”
I finished tying my sneakers choosing to ignore the dull pounding starting behind my temples. “What you need is a gimmick.”
He smiled softly, “Okay then Gypsy Rose Lee, hit me. What gimmick could save this place?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “I didn't mean that kind of gimmick. I'm not stripping.”
Miroku shrugged, “It's probably for the best, who'd want to see your skinny ass anyway?”
I shot him a burning glare pretending he hadn't said that, the pain in my head kicked it up a notch and I leaned against the counter. “Maybe we need to shift our focus here and specialize in something you can't get at a big chain bookstore.”
He lifted his dark brows, “And what would that be, more crickets?”
I frowned, trying to think around the dull noise in my head. “I still don't know what you are talking about. But we could think of something. I mean as humans go you aren't completely stupid.”
Miroku blinked, “And thanks for that back handed compliment.”
He lifted his dark brows, “And what would that be, more crickets?”
I frowned, trying to think around the dull noise in my head. “I still don't know what you are talking about. But we could think of something. I mean as humans go you aren't completely stupid.”
Miroku blinked, “And thanks for that back handed compliment.”
I shrugged and pulled out the trashcan, though I had no idea what I was going to do with it. The clean up was beyond us. We'd have to call professional cleaners, the guys who specialized in cleaning up after fires and murder scenes. And if Miroku made one more stripper joke this place could easily become both.
Speaking of dead things, I spotted the shade of an old woman wrapped in a grey shawl standing behind Miroku. I recognized Mrs. Disraeli, the woman who'd sold the store to Miroku over six years ago.
She was haggard looking and wearing a long, high necked flannel night gown. The store had been her life and soon after the sale she'd passed on easily in her sleep, probably out of boredom or from an over dose of day time TV. I've seen her before but unlike the shadows who usually stalk me she was an honest to God ghost. She wasn't stuck between worlds; she chose to stay here keeping an eye on her store. Usually she was dressed smartly but today her white hair hung loose down her shoulders and it was heart breaking to see her pain over the ruins of the store. Of course my latest headache didn't leave me much pity for anyone else besides myself.
She lifted her head and met my eyes. I was intrigued; it was rare for an actual ghost who wasn't a lost soul to interact with me. Even though I've seen her no less than two dozen times, Mrs. Disraeli never acknowledged me, this made her my favorite dead person. Today she lifted a hand from under her knit shawl and pointed at me.
She lifted her head and met my eyes. I was intrigued; it was rare for an actual ghost who wasn't a lost soul to interact with me. Even though I've seen her no less than two dozen times, Mrs. Disraeli never acknowledged me, this made her my favorite dead person. Today she lifted a hand from under her knit shawl and pointed at me.
Miroku frowned and looked over his shoulder, “Kagura, what are you looking at?”
Old woman Disraeli faded leaving me breathless wondering what she wanted and why she thought I could help. Well whatever she wanted, she'd have to take a number, my plate was already full.
I shook my head, “There's nothing there…” I blinked and took a deep breath, “I'm sorry… what were we talking about?”
He scratched the back of his neck, “Well, I was saying that I'm not letting anyone go just yet. I need time to sort this out.”
I pulled my self up on the register counter and sat with my head in my hands, lest the stinky smoky room start to spin. “Well, I've always said this job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.”
Miroku grinned, “There's my girl. I always knew I could depend on you.”
I straightened my skirt so it wouldn't wrinkle while I was sitting on the counter top. The combination of smoke and fading light made everything blurry. His little comment irked me in a way I couldn't even begin to explain. Something snapped in my head detaching me from my already shaky grip on reality.
I raised my head and heard someone say in my voice, “I am not anyone's girl.” My hand lifted and I blew him back a few feet.
Miroku stumbled but regained his balance by putting a hand on a bookcase. “Okay I get your point; you can turn off the windmill now.”
Suddenly what had started off as a mere annoyance erupted into unadulterated fury. I slowly slid down the counter as my eyes widened. “No, I don't think you do get it.” Miroku swallowed and began slowly backing away.
My winds knocked his hair free from it's stumpy little ponytail and the color began to drain from his face. I took a step towards him. “I am not your girl. Stop acting like everything about me is amusing.”
He lifted his hands in defeat. “You know you're right. I never should've made that crack about stripping.”
My hair lifted from my shoulders and fanned out around my face. I flexed the fingers on my left hand and blew Miroku's purple shirt back from his chest revealing a white undershirt. A spray of black buttons fell to the floor at his feet. “You are a sad little man. I don't know what she sees in you.”
“What who sees in me?” He was fumbling for anything that would put me back in my right mind. At this point I was having an out of body experience and was watching with as much shock as Miroku. Except I did have a much nicer seat for all of the action, too bad I was at the center of it all.
I lifted my chin and felt an anger I didn't recognize pulling my powers further out of control. “You don't get to speak now.”
I knocked him off his feet and he fell back landing hard on his ass. Miroku began scrambling backwards in a crabwalk. “Damn… Kagura, your eyes, they're glowing!”
My glasses fell from my face and I heard them crunch under my sneakers as I stalked towards the mortal preacher,
The firemen cut off our electricity before they left so as the sun set the store settled into darkness. The shadows bled into each other and as I watched they stood and began to move of their own volition. The store was no longer dark but alive and bathed in a faint purple black light glow.
Mrs. Disraeli reappeared behind Miroku watching me with her arms crossed, frowning. I turned and saw my old friend the hooded shadow hovering over the remains of the coffee bar twiddling it's nasty little clawed fingers, purposely feeding my rage. Ah, so here was the source of the problem and my complete loss of control.
Miroku whimpered and I spun to face him, he was laying flat on his back in the water logged carpet. My winds kept him down and pressing his chest to the point he was struggling to breathe.
I was pulled in several directions at once, wanting to feel the full freedom of my winds ripping the building down and the other side of me wanting to help my friend who lay helpless on the floor. The goblin left the bar, floating quickly towards me. I heard it's low guttural purring over the raspy whimpers coming from Miroku.
I refused to become it's pawn. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath then fell to my knees as a blinding pain tore into my skull.
The goblin's presence was painful which meant I was back in control. The winds receded and moments later I heard Miroku sloshing through the same water that was now soaking my skirt and sneakers. It was the strangest thing though; he was running towards me instead of away from me.
Stupid man, he had no sense. I felt his hands on my shoulders, his voice breathless from my attack. “Kagura! Are you in there?”
I opened my eyes and without looking up felt the goblin hovering over my shoulder. I fell forward on to my palms and the water in the carpet came over my hands up to my wrists. I was past speech but I forced my lips to form the words. “God Miroku… I'm so… sorry.”
He knelt down before me and pushed my hair back from my face. “It's okay. Just stay with me and try NOT to kill me this time.”
I nodded and let my eyelids fall down over my eyes blocking out some of the black light glow that was still jumping around the store reminiscent of a bad acid trip. I didn't have to ask Miroku to know he'd seen nothing.
The ceiling in my head was cracking and bits of it were falling around me. My stomach churned and I turned my head and lost what remained of the brunch I'd shared with Kagome and Inuyasha. What was only hours ago now seemed like ages.
Finally I sat up and balanced on my knees. “Miroku I gotta go home.”
He had his arm around my shoulder and we helped each other back up. I didn't know why he wanted to help me when he had no way of knowing I wouldn't wig out and blow us all to kingdom come. His purple shirt hung around him in tatters. “Maybe I should call 911.”
I shook my head and felt the edges of the room shake with me. “No… it's not worth it. There's nothing they can do except bill me.” Or book me on attempted murder, both options were unpleasant.
We walked towards the door in a crazed rendition of a three legged race. He wasn't sure that letting me go was the right thing to do but Miroku decided to let me have my way. “Umm… okay. Maybe you should let me hail you a cab.”
I let him lead me to the curb. Miroku raised his fist and soon a yellow taxi came to a screeching halt beside us. He opened the passenger door, practically shoving me inside then actually lifted my feet and tucked them inside the car.
I looked back to the store and saw the goblin by the front door. For a moment the world was twisted and it appeared to be waving. God I hope it wouldn't be waiting for me once I got home, because if it was moving in then it had better be prepared to chip in on the rent.
The driver asked where I was headed and Miroku gave him explicit directions to my apartment. I wondered how he knew where it was when he'd never been there. I forced myself to look him in the face, “I'm… so sorry. After all you've lost today and I tried…”
I felt his hand on my chin turning my face up towards him. “Kagura…”
Miroku's lake blue eyes swam with doubt, I waited but he said nothing. He just shrugged and shut the door between us. I pressed my forehead to the cool window and watched him shrink in the distance as we sped away.
_-_-_-_
Notes:
This chapter is dedicated to Jamie, Romeo and Bella.
Yes I am still alive! I suck for not updating more often but I had to work a few things out. Trust me it's worth it. In fact the next chapter is going be huge. The crap is hitting the fan. When Kagura tells Sesshomaru the truth will he react the way she fears?
Also I think I need to say that I DON'T HATE MIROKU. Actually I am quite fond of the monk. This is not a hate fic, I have a plan for where this is going, just you wait and see.
I got more then a few comments about why would someone who doesn't watch Inuyasha read this story? Well I am blessed with many non-anime types who like to read my crap, so what can I say?
Yes Sesshomaru was quoting from the Godfather and there's a Kevin Smith gag too. Gypsy Rose Lee was a famous stripper and there is a great musical about her.
The Devil's Dictionary
To be positive: To be mistaken at the top of one's voice.
Absurdity:A statement or belief manifestly inconsistent with one's own opinion.
“I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose… it'll be much harder to detect.” George Carlin