InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Strings and Kevlar ❯ Auditions ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Inuyasha or any of its characters.

*******************

`I fuckin' nailed that shit!'

Inuyasha strutted out of the music building after what had turned out to be an impromptu audition for Dr. Higgins. As he had so confidently predicted, he had successfully earned his way into the doctor's busy schedule for a lesson slot, and was now feeling like he could take on the world. `Feh. I'd like to see the look on Miroku's face now.'

Twirling his car keys in his hand, he leisurely made his way across campus, feeling better than he had in months. There weren't many students hanging around since the semester wouldn't start for a few weeks, and the ones who were there were either sitting in shaded areas or indoors to escape the late summer heat. Inuyasha wasn't bothered too much by the weather; it was fairly reminiscent of Tokyo, actually, so he was already accustomed to the sweltering heat and humidity, which would be a blessing come band camp the following week.

As he crossed through the quad, he noticed a couple of girls sitting under one of the huge magnolia trees. Passing by, his sensitive ears picked up on their whispers.

“He's a half-demon. Damn, he's hot!”

“Mm. I'd do him.”

“Quiet! You know he can probably hear you!”

“Good. Less work for me to do later….”

Inuyasha smirked as he listened, he chest puffing a bit, but he didn't bother looking in their direction. Women had never been in short supply for him, but he was still feeling a bit scorched from his last relationship and wasn't in the right frame of mind to pursue any more baggage. For now, women were very much like the African drums he had in his apartment: beautiful to admire, but not meant to play with.

Suppressing a growl, he tried to push the thoughts of his ex out of his mind, kicking a clump of dirt a little harder than necessary as he made his way through the trees to the parking lot.

Kikyo. Her betrayal was unforgiveable.

They had been dating since their senior year in high school. It hadn't been a flawless relationship, but he had loved her, and he was pretty sure she had loved him. That bit of doubt had led to some fairly noteworthy insecurities on his part, naturally, but she had done her part to smooth his ego and convince him she might be marriage material someday, so they had moved in together at the end of their sophomore year in their respective universities. Like Inuyasha, Kikyo came from a wealthy family, but unlike Inuyasha, she had life priorities that involved staying wealthy, so when it became clear that he was going to pursue music as a career, her relentless superiority complex started wreaking havoc, and resentment hung heavy in their apartment for the next several months. It had escalated until she left the day after finals last spring, claiming she needed to “think things over,” and disappeared for over a month.

She came back one day, crying, apologetic, and above all else, pregnant.

After the shock wore off, he did the math, and realizing there was no way he could have been the father, he kicked her the hell out. There was quite the scene in front of their apartment that afternoon as she wailed about it being his baby and “how could you put me on the street in this condition” and so on, and he remembered how his ears had burned as he realized everyone was looking out their windows to watch the performance. He loudly informed her she could go back to the asshole who she fucked in the first place, and if he was smart enough not to take her in, then to go home to Mommy and Daddy and swim in the money that was so important to her. Slamming the door in her shocked, humiliated face, he then proceeded to drink himself to oblivion, shutting himself in for the next several days. Then came the confrontation with his father, and more tragedy had struck....

“Hey, Inuyasha!”

Miroku's voice sounded from behind him, and he took a deep breath and mentally shut the door to the memories of the past several months. `Fuck that bitch,' he thought, exhaling through his nose to calm himself. Realizing this was his opportunity to gloat to his would-be opponent come audition time, he turned to greet Miroku…and didn't hide his irritation when he saw who was accompanying him. `Speaking of bitches,' he growled to himself.

“Inuyasha, you remember Kagome, don't you?” Miroku grinned deviously, obviously wanting to create a little havoc, although Inuyasha wasn't sure if it was meant to upset him or the girl.

“Ugh,” Kagome grunted and turned away, adjusting the shoulder straps to her cello case on her back.

Inuyasha smirked. “Well, how did your practice go, wench? Any progress working on that horrible intonation of yours?” He noticed her eyebrow twitch, but she remained silent, which struck him as a bit odd. “What's the matter? No bitchy comeback?”

Pointedly ignoring him, Kagome turned toward Miroku. “Are you giving me a ride home or not?” Without waiting for an answer, she stormed off ahead of the two boys toward the mass of cars parked in the lot just ahead. Inuyasha's brows furrowed together when he picked up her scent as she strode past. Was she sad? `Serves her right,' he decided, ignoring the nagging of his conscience.

Once she was out of earshot, Miroku chuckled. “Man, you two really hit it off, didn't you? Come on, go easy on her. She's not so bad once you get her out of the practice room.”

Shaking off his thoughts, Inuyasha's face hardened again. “Feh! A bitch is a bitch no matter where she is. She's the one who went psycho on me earlier.” They turned in the direction Kagome had just headed. “Besides, you were the one who so innocently reintroduced us just now. What was that all about?”

Miroku dug in his book bag for his keys. “I was just trying to give you two a hard time. I didn't think you were going to insult her.”

Inuyasha gaped at him. “Are you serious? She was a bitch from the beginning, for no good reason. She deserved it. She's on my shit list now, and once you're there, it's hard telling when you'll make it off.”

“I'm sure she's heartbroken.” Miroku rolled his eyes, finally finding his missing keys and shouldering his bag. “Anyway, how did you do with the Doc?”

Sporting his cockiest of grins, Inuyasha let him have it. “How do you think? I told you, I'm the best there is on snare. He accepted me, of course.”

Miroku stopped in his tracks. “H-he what?”

Reveling in his shock, Inuyasha added salt to the wound. “What did you think? That I'm all talk? Sorry, man, but I think you're confusing me with you.”

To Inuyasha's surprise, he genuinely smiled and laughed good-naturedly before continuing on his way. “Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow who's all talk, won't we? Are you prepared for drumline auditions?”

Puzzled by Miroku's lightheartedness at his insult, Inuyasha glanced at him again before shrugging it off. “Yeah, I'm ready. I'll probably hit the practice room later tonight. They begin at eleven tomorrow, right?”

“Yup.” They stopped at a silver Civic, where Kagome was standing impatiently by the passenger door, facing away from them. “You wanna go to lunch afterwards? Loser buys?”

Inuyasha glanced in Kagome's direction, once again picking up a hint of sadness laced with worry in her scent. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Miroku unlocked the doors to the car, and Kagome quickly opened the back door to set her cello inside before climbing into the passenger seat, resolutely avoiding eye contact. “All right, man. Good luck tomorrow!”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha replied absently. `What's with this chick?' He shook his head to clear it. “Uh, yeah. Good luck. I'm looking forward to lunch on you tomorrow.”

“Ha! We'll see. Later!” He climbed in and started the car before backing out of the spot and driving away.

Inuyasha watched them leave before walking a few rows over to his own car. What was up with that girl? A half hour ago, she had been full of fire, and now she was….

He blinked and shook his head. `Whatever. Not my problem.'

He whistled to himself as he unlocked and climbed into his new Benz convertible, compliments of his inheritance. As the engine roared to life, he pressed the button to lower the top and closed his eyes, thinking about auditions and the upcoming marching season. This would be his first—and only—semester marching for a university with a football team, and he had heard that it was quite the experience, especially at this school in particular. `I hope the team is good,' he thought to himself as he threw the car into gear and sped off on his way to his apartment.

Thoughts of the girl returned unbidden to his mind, and he growled in frustration as he navigated through congested midtown Baton Rouge traffic. `Damn. Why do I keep thinking about her? She was such a bitch! So what if she's drop-dead gorgeous and has legs that go on for days?'

Nearly slamming on the breaks in shock, Inuyasha's eyes went wide as he struggled to pay attention to the road. Where had that come from? It's not as if he actually liked her! Sure, she was attractive…

`Fucking sexy as all hell.'

…but her attitude was a major turn-off. When she had first popped out of that practice room earlier, she may as well have had snakes for hair and flames shooting out her beautiful mocha eyes….

“Dammit!” This time he did slam on the brakes, earning him a chorus of blaring car horns behind him. He ground his fist against his forehead, ignoring the noise. `Get the fuck out of my head! The last thing I need is another crazy bitch in my life!'

*Honk!* “Hey, move it, dipshit! Let's go!”

Inuyasha growled and clenched his fists on the leather steering wheel to keep himself from showing the driver behind him what he thought of his request. Pulling away from the intersection, he drove a few more blocks before coming to his apartment complex, which he had moved into just a week earlier. Parking in his spot, he put the top up and cut the engine before climbing out, grumbling under his breath about the clunker parked next to him and wondering if the asshole who drove it would ding his Benz when he got in. Taking note of the license plate number just in case, he activated his car alarm and bound up the steps two at a time to his door, trying to escape the thoughts of the enigmatic cellist who just would not get out of his head.

Upon entering his apartment, he turned on the lights and sighed as he took in what was before him. Boxes upon boxes—still packed—were piled in not-so-neat stacks along the walls, and the furniture was scattered haphazardly around the rooms, having yet to find their permanent placements. The only items he'd bothered to unpack had been his bed sheets, some clothes, and all of his music gear. Everything else was still tightly sealed away in sturdy cardboard boxes, patiently awaiting his undivided attention. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes for a moment, realizing that at some point he was going to have to start unpacking all of that shit. This having been his first move to live alone, he didn't have much, but what he did have was his. Not his dad's, not Sesshomaru's, not Kikyo's. His. And that was a pretty nice thought, even if it did mean he'd have to take care of it all himself.

He went into his kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popping it open and guzzling half of it before looking around him once more, only to see even more boxes stacked on the countertops. `Shit. Might as well do it now.' Dragging himself back to the living area, he set the bottle on the floor and stared at the boxes, wondering where he should start.

***

“Sango!” Kagome dropped her purse on the table just inside the door of the two bedroom apartment and shrugged out of her cello case. “Are you here?”

Met with silence, she turned toward Miroku as he shut the door. “I guess she's not home. Do you want to wait for her?”

“Sure. Got anything to eat?” He turned toward the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

Kagome shook her head. “Help yourself, mooch.” She grinned at his gaping expression and made her way back to her bedroom. She heard water running as she passed the bathroom, and paused to tap on the door before opening it, earning herself a blast of hot steam to the face. “Hey, Sango?”

“Yeah?” she called from behind the shower curtain.

“Just thought I'd let you know your boy-toy is here, so please don't come out naked. I'd rather not have to witness an all-afternoon sex-a-thon since he can't seem to control himself around you.”

Sango laughed. “All right, thanks.”

“I'm getting ready to go for a run. Do you want to have dinner later?”

“Actually, he's taking me to dinner tonight, then I gotta head over to campus to practice.”

“Oh, okay,” Kagome tried to keep the disappointment from seeping into her voice, but her cousin saw right through it.

“Kags? Is something wrong?”

“No, no - it's nothing. I'm just in a bad mood I guess. I'll talk to you about it a little later.” She turned to leave, not particularly wanting to delve into the topic at the moment.

“Are you sure?” Sango pressed, peeking around the curtain.

“Yes, Sango! Jeez, it's hot as hell in here, and I want to get out!”

“All right, all right! Get the hell out!”

Kagome laughed and shut the bathroom door, turning toward her bedroom again. She really wouldn't mind talking about what was bothering her, but… `No. Not now. Besides, she's busy.' She shook her head and entered her bedroom, kicking off her flip-flops. After changing into a pair of running shoes, she retied her ponytail and walked back out toward the kitchen, where Miroku was putting the finishing touches on a turkey sandwich. She grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrewed the top, hip checking him as she passed. “Find everything you need?” she teased.

Miroku turned around and smirked. “I can't believe you don't have brown mustard. I'm never eating here again!” he declared, laughing as she sneered at him, and then held the mustard and lunchmeat out to her so she could put them back into the refrigerator.

“Good. Our grocery bill won't be so high now.” She looked pointedly down at the items in his hands and cocked an eyebrow. “I'm not your maid. Put `em away yourself!”

Miroku brought a hand to his heart. “Kagome, you mistake me. I'm simply offering you a chance to make your own sandwich.”

“Pshh!” Kagome pushed past him as she took a swig from her water bottle. “I'm going for a run. Sango's in the shower, so she'll be out in a little bit.”

Freezing where he stood, he turned and gave Kagome a truly lecherous grin. “Oh, really? In the shower, you say?”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Just please keep your activities confined to her bedroom. I really don't want to have to sanitize the whole place before I feel safe living here!” Despite her teasing, she couldn't help but laugh at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he made his way for the bathroom. She shook her head and set her water down on the table before tying the spare apartment key to her shoelace. She didn't make it out in time to miss Sango's girlish squeak at Miroku's apparent intrusion, and Kagome hurriedly shut the door behind her before she heard more than she wanted to.

Trotting down the steps, she stood in the grass and took a few minutes to stretch before taking off down the sidewalk. `Damn,' she thought when she turned the first corner. `I forgot my iPod.' This was never good; without the blissful sound of distracting music blaring in her ears, she was left alone to her own thoughts, which always made for less-than-enjoyable runs. She considered turning back to retrieve the device, but thought twice when she remembered what was happening in her bathroom at the moment. Not wanting to overhear that any more than she already had to, she decided to do without for today.

Since the campus was still mostly deserted, she decided to turn in that direction instead of facing the busy afternoon traffic in town. Crossing the next intersection, she attempted to drive her mind away from the memories that Miroku had brought to the surface that afternoon with his offhand comment in the Music Building. Instead, she thought of football season. `The team looks good, and now that the new coach has a season under his belt, they're predicting we might make it to a BCS bowl! I wonder if we'll beat Auburn this year….'

Football reminded her of her high school days back in Kyoto and her brief stint as a cheerleader before realizing “Ooh-rah-rah” didn't fit well into her natural vocabulary. She laughed as she remembered some of the antics she would get into with some of the other laid back cheerleaders she was friends with. There was no end to the torment they would lay upon the more stuck-up of the bunch, like when she sprinkled grape Kool-Aid powder into the shampoo bottle of one of the nastier girls. Kagome snickered to herself as she ran along the sidewalk.

*~*~*~*

“You bitch!” Yura screamed, her normally beautiful cropped hair dripping dark purple drops all over her white terrycloth towel. “I can't believe you put that shit in my shampoo! I should kill you!”

Kagome smirked, waving her hand dismissively. “Cry all you want, Yura, but I could have done a lot worse. You can barely see the color. Besides, that's what you get for calling Souten a slut. You're the one who has gone down on half the baseball team!”

“Like you would know anything about sex!” the girl shot back. “Poor Hojo probably doesn't even know what a blow job feels like, and you've been dating him for how long?”

*~*~*~*

Kagome stumbled over her feet as the hated memories began to flood once again, regaining her balance at the last moment to avoid face-planting in front of the other pedestrians. Pursing her lips together, she wiped the sweat from her brow and focused on the pavement beneath her feet, on the humidity in the air, on the few cars on the road, anything to avoid the pain that accompanied the thoughts of him, but it was too late. Once his name was so much as whispered in her mind, she was helpless to fend off the agony that always followed.

*~*~*~*

“I can't believe this, Kagome! I love you! Why are you doing this to me?!”

*~*~*~*

She stumbled again, and this time she did fall to her hands and knees, skidding to a clumsy stop on the hot pavement. She closed her eyes and choked on a sob, no longer able to fight the tears that leaked from her eyes as she relived that fateful night. `Why? Why did it have to happen like that?'

“Miss, you okay?”

Kagome looked up through tear-laden eyes to an older gentleman standing above her, his own aged eyes laced with worry. “You took quite a tumble there. Need some help?”

“No….” She looked back down and sniffled, attempting to regain some sense of composure before meeting his eyes again. “No, I'm fine.” She accepted his offered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. “Thank you,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Nothin' to it, dear. Are you sure you don't need some help gettin' to where you need to be? You looked to be in an awful hurry.”

She smiled a little at the old man's kindness, his Cajun accent warming his voice and her heart. “I'm sure, but thank you very much.”

He grinned at her and tipped his hat. “All right, dear. You take care and mind yourself!”

Kagome genuinely smiled as he slowly hobbled away. She spotted a nearby bench and approached it to stretch her legs a bit, musing on the inherent kindness of the stranger. It had taken her a while to grow accustomed to the familiarity that the people in this region seemed to display, but now that she had been here for three years, she found it rather comforting. Everyone seemed so friendly and warm, as if it were every person's civic duty to make everyone else feel welcome and cared for. She had to admit that once she graduated and moved on to wherever she was going to move on to, she would miss Baton Rouge.

She wiped the tear tracks off her cheeks and rested her right foot on the back of the bench, carefully leaning forward to stretch her hamstring. It wasn't until then that she noticed how banged-up her knees had gotten from the fall, and she gingerly touched the bloodied skin mixed with tiny rocks and dirt, and then noticed her palms were also sporting impressive abrasions. She sighed dejectedly as she came to the realization that her run was probably at its end for today, and started the trek home in order to make friends with the peroxide under the bathroom sink.

Inspecting her hands again, she frowned, hoping the minor injury wouldn't affect her playing. She wasn't worried about her cello, but the cymbals might be another story. Those straps had to be held so tightly, and they would be pressing right against the heels of her palms.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I can take it.” When she had first moved to Baton Rouge before her freshman year, her cousin, Sango—having lived here since middle school—had convinced her to try out for the marching band. Sango, being a percussionist herself, was eager to share what was supposed to be an exciting experience with her cousin of the same age, and Kagome had reluctantly agreed, although she was a little apprehensive about playing an instrument that was supposed to be so harsh on the fingers. As it turned out, most marching cymbal players were not percussionists, so it wasn't as if spots on the line were terribly competitive, but some skill was obviously necessary, especially if they wanted to play for Pre-Game.

Kagome had auditioned on cymbals after a few lessons from Sango and had easily made the second spot, apparently possessing some innate ability for crashing two plates of metal together and producing suitable crashes. Miroku Shizuma, also a freshman, won second snare, which made Kagome his cymbal player on the line. They had quickly developed a friendship despite his overly flirtatious ways, but she soon saw that she wouldn't have to worry about him putting any unwanted moves on her, as he only had eyes for the top bass player, who just happened to be her cousin.

Sango had been standoffish at first, and after a week of his perusing her, her attitude had turned downright malicious. Kagome actually found herself standing up for him on more than one occasion to her, but it was still several months before Sango caved and gave Miroku a chance.

`“I'll give him a snowball's chance in hell!” were her exact words,' Kagome remembered, smiling as she hit the crosswalk button.

Apparently, hell froze over that night at Chimes restaurant, because as Miroku and Sango stood at the bar waiting for another round of beers, he threw caution to the wind and boldly kissed her amid the hooting onlookers, and for reasons only known to Sango, she was instantly hooked.

Kagome hurried across the intersection, giggling to herself. Who would have thought her cousin, the rough tomboy from Kyoto, would be dating a known pervert? And during marching season, it only made drumline even more entertaining, considering Miroku and Kagome were now in the lead places on snare and cymbals respectively, and Sango was the top bass drummer. They certainly had their fun -

She gasped as a truly horrifying thought struck her. That hanyou…Inuyasha…he was a percussionist! What if he planned on auditioning for the snare line? She blinked furiously, a sudden stutter in her step. Of course, he would! They all did! But what if he made it? What if he made center snare? Then that would mean that she…!

Shaking her head, she turned the corner onto the road that led to her apartment complex. `Slow down, Higurashi. Nothing says you're going to be cymbal section leader this year! What if some hot freshman comes in and smokes you? Then you won't have to worry about it. You'll be second and be with Miroku again, and all will be well in the kingdom.'

But….

What if she did make it? What if she actually had to hold cymbals for that jerk? Her breathing quickened in anxiety as her mind scrambled for possible escapes. Ah! She could botch the audition and purposefully not get the lead spot! She smiled. Yes. That was what she would do.

…No. She couldn't in good conscience deliberately perform poorly on an audition—any audition. Her pride wouldn't allow it. Besides, who's to say Inuyasha would get center snare? Miroku was a certified badass; when he was in high school in Sacramento, he made first chair in the All-Regional Honor Band three years in a row—or so he claimed—and he had obviously only improved since starting college. So there was no way Inuyasha would beat him. Nope. Not a chance.

However…

Inuyasha did land a spot in Dr. Higgin's lesson schedule months after it had been filled. That was a feat unheard of. Could he really be that good?

`Augh!' She was going in circles and quickly frustrating herself. Seeing she was already in front of her apartment, she plopped down in the grass and positioned herself for a hurdler's stretch. As her heart rate calmed, she came to a conclusion: No matter what would happen at auditions the following day, she could deal with it. She wasn't about to let that jerk ruin her senior year in marching band. He probably wouldn't beat Miroku anyway, so there was really nothing to worry about. `I'll still have to put up with him being on the snare line, though. But at least I'll have something pretty to look at this season.'

She froze in her stretch, nearly pulling a muscle, and cursed the hanyou who just would not get out of her head.

***

“Nailed it!” Inuyasha exited the audition room triumphantly, giving Miroku an arrogant smirk. “I guarantee I won. I don't think I've ever played a better audition in my life,” he bragged as Miroku chuckled ruefully.

“I heard, man,” Miroku nodded humbly, a little harrumph to his voice. “Man, you weren't kidding. Didn't know they brought up snare players like that in Tokyo.”

“Keh!” Inuyasha stuffed his drumsticks into his stick bag. “I tried to tell you, but you didn't want to hear it. So, where are you taking me for lunch? I'm thinking pizza.”

“Hey, hey, now,” Miroku held his hands up. “I'll admit you sounded awesome, but the spots haven't been announced yet. You gotta give them at least a half hour.”

The hanyou scoffed. “Whatever. I saw that grad assistant's face when I hit those flam-fives in the last piece. Pretty sure he splooged on the spot. Trust me, I got center.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, rifling through his book bag. “Dammit, where are my fucking keys?”

Inuyasha's ears twitched, the distinct sound of cymbal crashes reaching his ears. “Oh, the cymbal line is auditioning now, too? Let's go see how good they are. I want to see who's going to be my cymbal player; I'm usually pretty good at calling it.” He listened for a heartbeat, raising his eyebrows. “Actually, the one playing now sounds pretty good. I wonder how his crashes look.”

“Oh. Um,” Miroku paused hesitantly, as if he just remembered something.

“What?” Inuyasha frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” he chuckled, smiling a little too innocently.

`Uh oh.' “No, what is it? Something I need to know?”

“Naw, it's no big deal. Come on, let's go see how they're doing.” Miroku stood and shouldered his bookbag, walking toward the Percussion Annex.

Inuyasha followed him warily, suddenly suspicious of his new friend's behavior. `Something's up. But what?'

He got his answer when they pushed the doors open and stopped just inside. Inuyasha's jaw flapped in the air-conditioned breeze as his eyes fell upon the person who was currently playing cymbals with a shocking amount of skill…for a cellist, anyway.

“Holy fucking hell! What is she doing here?!”