InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Margarita Migraines ❯ Wake Up Calls, and Cell Phone Rings ( Chapter 2 )

 

The bed room was painted red, well that was a no brainier; most of the things the man owned were red, including his sheets and the boxers, he was currently sleeping in. His long messy silver hair hung loosely around his shoulders as he slept. He lay, sprawled a spring mattress which looked as if it had been just tossed there. His body was tanned ever so slightly, and from the muscles on his arms and legs, there was no denying he was toned. He had strong facile futures—high cheek bones and slanted eyes that were so accustom to the Asian population. Next to his bed was a night stand, covered with clutter. On top of the piles and piles of junk lay a Sony Erickson cell phone, a customized design of red slashes covered and contrasted nicely with the silver device. As if on queue it began to buzz, the song “Dive for You” began playing sending the phone into a frenzy as it vibrated around the table for a good minute before a man's hand slammed down on it. Bring the abused phone to his face, his other hand coming to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he turned to glance at the clock. 2:59 am. Someone was going to die for this.

 

“WHAT?! You better have a damn good reason for calling, or I swear to God, I am going to hunt you down and castra-”

 

“Inuyasha! GET IN HERE NOW!” InuYasha cursed under his breath as his boss's voice came out of the phone, his ear twitching slightly at the top of his head from the other man yelling. He could tell Myoga was serious.

 

But that never stopped him before.

 

“Why the hell should I? It can wait till it's at least fucking six,” He said as he rolled over in his bed, eyes closing once again. Myoga wasn't even his real boss, just an old bug that insisted in making his life a living hell. InuYasha smirked at that thought. He pictured the little man as a small flee, InuYasha's hand coming that squishing him. “Stupid bug” He mumbled as he began to fall asleep again.

 

“IF YOU DON'T GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW TAKAHASHI, YOU ARE FIRED” Now that was his boss.

 

Inuyasha sat up and nodded to the phone, realizing they couldn't see him he quickly added a very livid `yes sir' and jumped out of bed. Throwing the phone back on the table with a growl he went towards the bathroom. It was defiantly a Monday.

 

A black FOMA P901iS with blue line glass art on the outside lay on a dark oak nightstand, the bed next to it was raised off the ground ever so slightly. It was next to the east wall of the room. Whitewashed walls and more dark wood floors covered by a tetimi mat accented the almost empty room. On the other side of the room lay a TV dinner table with a laptop on it. Other then the two occupants in the bed, the room was empty. Both people in the bed were moaning and moving about under the sheets rapidly as the cell phone began to vibrate and play the English song, “I'm a Slave for You” by Britney Spears.

 

After the third ring and much protesting from a women in the bed, a man finally emerged and picked up the phone. He was tall and lean with some of the most piercing blue eyes, with his black silky hair barely brushing the top of his shoulders as he sat up and put the phone to his pierced ear. Wrapping the sheet around his nude lower half he came and rubbed his temple.

 

“Moushi Moushi?” He greeted after a second. Nodding his head as the person on the other end spoke. He remained silent for a few minutes listening. “Hai” He answered every so often before closing the phone and standing up, the blanket falling back on the bed.

 

“Miroku, Honey, come back to bed! It's three in the morning, Aren't I more important?” The girl in the bed pouted. Miroku turned, his gaze falling on the very naked women in his bed. She smirked and crawled over to the edge. “I see I am” She said after looking down at another part of Miroku's anatomy. The man sighed, turning away from the women on his bed (for once). He really needed to learn not to answer the phone.

 

“Listen, Babe. I would love to stay, but the boss needs me at work. We're being assigned some case—” He began but the women's interest was already peeked. She new Miroku worked for the government, but as of what he did for them, the man wasn't too open about.

 

“What case?” She cut hip off rather quickly. Her eyes sparkling with that curiosity so many of the women Miroku met with seemed to have. The man himself was already on the floor doing the hurried twenty pushups he did every morning—nude. Miroku was never was a self conscious kind of man. He was always calm and smooth, which attracted the ladies, and made him a good cop.

 

As soon as the words had left her mouth, he mentally cursed. He didn't open up to people about his job, mostly because a lot of the time he worked undercover with his team. It wouldn't be good to have one of his many girlfriends coming up to him when he was on a case and asking him how it was going. That usually gave it away. He quickly finished his morning exercises before standing and grabbing his towel, hoping the girl would forget, but was sadly mistaken when she asked again.

 

“What case?” This time more forcefully. She leaned over the bed slightly, intentionally making Miroku harder. Damn it.

 

“Listen, Etsu, you know I can't tell you about—” He began, fully intent on telling her some bullshit story about it endangering children's lives, but was yet again cut off. One of Miroku's pet peeves. He took a deep breath, trying to not let it get to him.

 

“ETSU? What the hell Miroku?!” She said in a huff, crossing her arms under her breasts which raised the overly large pieces of flesh, causing Miroku's eyes to drift to the instantly. She growled be for getting off the bed and grabbing her clothes and slamming his bed room door as she left. It took Miroku a second or two to realize that he had called Fujita Etsu. They looked remarkably similar.

 

“Shit” He mumbled before picking up some clothes himself and walking out of his room and into the shower. After a second, he came back into the room and grabbed his cell phone, pressing one of the speed dial numbers he waited as the phone rang.

 

“HEY, Etsu! Babe, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel lunch….. Yeah, I know we had reservations, but my aunt got sick and…. No not the one that died, her twin actually, we think they have the same thing….. I said she was an only child? Nooooo….. I'm sure I mentioned her twin… Name? Yeah, Her names….Fujita…”

 

 

 

A silver sliver cell phone lay on a small glass table. The room itself was covered in small porcelain tiles no bigger then your thumb nail, a truly remarkable sight. On the floor coal black tiles lay still as black water as ivory white one's seemed to twist through them in an almost wave like pattern. At the center of the huge room was a raised plat from, also covered in tiles these slightly bigger ashy black tiles, and with sliver kanji symbols depicting a rather famous Japanese story around the large block. On the top of the plat form was a white futon with black silk sheets, which at closer inspection had intertwining silver threads. The walls were tiled as well, but you would never know since the large wall scrolls hung from the ceiling every few feet apart, separated by large silvery Egyptian cotton curtains. The scrolls told the rest of the story, the symbols in black print this time. Over to the right corner sat the circular glass table that the sliver sat on, next to it a chair made of purely black metal, a white cushion on top. The man that sat on the chair seemed to match the room perfectly.

 

He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, and long sweeping silver hair that was tied tightly to the back on his neck. Clad in a black suit with yet more silvery pinstripes. His tie seemed to match as well. His shoes, thankfully, weren't silver, but a nice shiny black, which matched the tailored suit. He had a strong jaw and cheek bone structure alone with thin lips, seemed to give him an almost delicate look. But something about him radiated power, to an almost intimidating sense. On the bridge of his angular nose lay frameless glasses, a look not many could pull off, but this was the kind of man that the designers of such glasses envisioned when they created them. In his hands was a newspaper which he was flipping through dismally. He had already read everything of any value. So it didn't make sense as to why he had it.

 

His facial expression remained the same as he tossed it on the table, picking up in stead in cup of coffee. With a quick glance at his watch, he picked up the copy of Hamlet that was lying on the table as well. Turning to the page, he was last reading he settled in his chair slightly. The phone rang. It was Mozart's Requiem, but not that you could tell since the man already had it to his ear before it had even kicked in.

 

“Hello” He said quickly, not wasting anytime. Nodding his head he replied quickly with a `hia' and hung up the phone. Standing, he briskly walked out of the room. No time wasted. If only he could say that about the rest of his day.