InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Ornamental ❯ Nice to Meet You ( Chapter 3 )

 

Ornamental

By: The Dancing Pony

 

Chapter Three: Nice to Meet You

 

The two slaves were paid for quickly, and Kagome thanked Gaston with much giggling and a profusion of flaunting. Inuyasha took it all in stride and kept his peace until they reached the car. The sun was well into the sky and the bright rays flashed on car hoods and windscreens. Kagome casually strolled next to Inuyasha, paging through her new slave's handbook. She had opted to leave the slave to be delivered, rather than drag a naked exotic through the mall, searching for fitting cloths. She hummed in anticipation upon reading a small section of print at the very back of the book.

 

“Would you stop that?” Inuyasha snapped. Kagome glanced at him quickly, but her attention remained on the booklet. He unlocked the car door and climbed in, glaring at Kagome intently. “Kagome!”

 

“What?” she snapped.

 

“Why are you still ignoring me?” he yelled. Kagome sighed impatiently and very slowly tucked away the booklet in her purse.

 

“Inuyasha, I will stop ignoring you when you stop acting like a child,” she said slowly, as if she really were talking to a child.

 

“How am I acting like a child?” he snapped indignantly, buckling his seatbelt roughly and starting the ignition.

 

“You've been acting immature the entire trip! First you where whining about taking me out on my birthday, then about where we would go first - I gave in to you wanting to look for the slave first,” Kagome said, while buckling her own seat belt - much more carefully - and flipping down the mirror to inspect her makeup.

 

“There was a damn good reason for me to be unhappy about it!” Inuyasha yelled, backing out of the parking space.

 

“Then when we get there, you won't shut up about waiting in the car, and how you'd take back your promise to buy me anything I wanted!”

 

“I was in a room with naked men! Of course I was uncomfortable, and I did buy you what you wanted!”

 

“Only because I threatened you!” Kagome yelled, brandishing her lip gloss as if it accentuated her point.

 

“You didn't threaten me, you just kept whining and I got tired of it! Besides, you should have noticed the way you were acting, do you know how embarrassed I was? When you asked to see the exotics I wanted to punch something!” Inuyasha kept his eyes firmly on the road as they came to a stop sign and pulled out onto the street.

 

“It's perfectly normal for a girl to have her own exotic to tend to her. Sango has three, and Ayume has one of her own. Even Erica got one before me, for Christ's sake!”

 

“So this is about you being a selfish brat because all your friends had a toy that you didn't?”

 

Suddenly, Kagome's hand snaked out and struck Inuyasha across the face. His jaw fell slack and Kagome, flushed with anger, continued to yell. “How dare you? Don't you dare try to pin this on me, when you have been the one acting like a child! He's just a slave!”

 

Inuyasha was silent for a moment as he processed what had just happened. When he got over the shock of being slapped, he turned his narrowed eyes on the girl in the next seat. “You are dating me, correct?”

 

“At the moment, it's doubtful,” Kagome spat out. Inuyasha's only reaction was to tighten his fingers on the steering wheel.

 

“What do you even need a slave for? You're provided for by your parents, and when you stay with me you live in paradise,” he said, ignoring the almost physical pain of Kagome's harsh words. Even though she annoyed him, he had strong feelings for her.

 

“Yeah, well there are just some things you're not willing to provide,” she said sullenly. Inuyasha felt like the bottom fell out of the car. He felt like the windscreen had disappeared and the wind was tearing into his face at one hundred and forty miles an hour. He felt like he had just watched his house burn down.

 

“You,” he began in a quiet, utterly disgusted voice, “have no right to complain about that. You know why it's impossible for me, and you knew about that before we started dating!” His voice had risen to a heated fury, and he abruptly signaled to pull over to the side of the road. “It's not like I refuse just to inconvenience you. If you wanted sex you could have had a human, but you chose me and now you're cheating on me with a slave?” He slammed on the brakes, put the Jeep in park, and turned to furiously glare at Kagome, who was nonchalantly filing her nails, only a faint crease in her forehead and a slight dip to her lips.

 

“It's not cheating! God damn, you don't make a fuss when I use my vibrator, do you?” she asked.

 

“It's different!”

 

“How? How is it different Inuyasha?”

 

“Because your vibrator is not a person!”

 

“Neither is the slave!”

 

There was a tense silence, broken only by the shrill whistling of the atmosphere as cars zoomed by. Inuyasha swallowed thickly around the sandpaper lump that had appeared in his throat. He abruptly turned forward again, and silently put the car into drive. He pulled back onto the street and drove, maddeningly perfect, onward. Kagome kept silent for the most part, thinking that she had won the argument, but constantly feeling like she had pulled out the cannons to swat at a mosquito.

 

When Inuyasha drove up to the mall entrance, rather than find a parking spot, Kagome's nerves increased tenfold. He stepped on the brakes and put the Jeep into park and tuned to her, his face set in a cold, angry mask.

 

“Get out,” he said quietly, but so full of anger and disgust he might as well have shouted. Kagome, somewhat frightened, hastily unbuckled herself and opened the door.

 

“How am I going to get home?” she asked.

 

“Get a ride from Sango,” Inuyasha said, turning forward once more.

 

“What about my car?”

 

“I'll go with Myoga to drop it off tomorrow.” He turned to Kagome, only now some slight disappointment showing now in his golden orbs. “I'm sorry you feel the way you do, Kagome.”

 

Kagome turned, shocked, angry, and depressed. She slammed the door and took off to find Sango, her angry tirade already taking shape in her mind.

.o.

.o.

.o.

When each seat in the truck was filled, Mr. Fallon checked over every slave once more and pulled down the sliding door. The inside was lit only by a soft orange light, and with the door down, it was only sufficient lighting to just make out the face of the slave on either side, and the shape of the one across.

 

3370 had sat patiently while the others were loaded, but eventually tensed as more and more filled. St. Charlie's was the only home he could remember, and now he was being taken away, and introduced to a new master. What if his master was cruel? Would he be like Trainer Keeloff, or Mr. Fallon? On the rare occasion that a slave was returned, he or she would tell stories of horrible, disgusting, painful masters.

 

The truck was the darkest place any of the slaves had ever been, as every light in the training facility never turned off. Even the dim lights of the bathing room were never quenched. One slave, at the far corner, was hyperventilating - claustrophobia or a fear of the unfamiliar dark - and the female next to him was trying to calm the young man. 3370 recognized the voice as 2588's, a coy seal exotic that would always give him a friendly hug when they met in the exercise room.

 

Eventually, the soft murmurs of the female exotic and 2588's died down as one of them fell asleep, and filled the cabin with light snores. Every other exotic kept quiet and to themselves, and as the minutes wore on and on, 3370 started to become a bit bored. The novelty of being in a different setting with different lighting had worn off, and the movement of the truck had lulled a few other exotics into sleep.

 

3370 sighed and shifted in the chair. The intruding phallus, which was attached to the seat, made it impossible for him to slide down or slouch in any way. He was stuck with his back pressed firmly against the straight back of the seat, and there was very little room to move. The butt plug was also going very deep inside him, and, although it was warm and vibrating, the cramps had started to return.

 

3370 was sure that he was in this state because Trainer Keeloff had made him wear the butt plug constantly through four trips to the exercise room (four days). He had not been allowed to take it out, even to use the toilet, and as the cramps started Trainer Keeloff had taken the paddle with holes in it - 3370 hated that paddle, and it wasn't his imagination that it hurt so much worse - and beat his rear to a beet red. His thighs and even his sides and stomach had not been spared, and with each swat to his torso, there had been a deep, sharply painful throb.

 

3370 shifted in his seat again, wincing at the memory that was brought by another twinge. He hoped his new master would have a medic to help him get better; the fever was making his head feel stuffed.

 

It was impossible to get comfortable. 3370, in growing exasperation, raised himself slightly from the phallus and dropped himself down again. Unexpectedly, he was met with a jolt of pleasure coursing straight to his cock and down to his fingers and toes. There were times, when Trainer Keeloff was feeling generous, that 3370 would feel like that. Usually it was after a bath, and Trainer Keeloff was giving him a massage with strong smelling oils. He would make 3370 lift his bum in the air, sometimes putting a pillow under his hips. Then the top-heavy trainer would slide a slippery finger into 3370's opening and touch a place inside that would send the most incredible sensations through the young slave's body.

 

With every stroke over that spot somewhere inside, 3370's prick would lengthen, thicken and harden. With every stroke, 3370 would feel the most incredible and frightening sensations. Soon, the shocks of pleasure were so good that 3370 needed more! He would whine in the back of his throat, and buck his hips. He would grind his hard length into the pillow, or wood of the massage table, for the extra sensation. Trainer Keeloff would rub that spot for hours, sometimes abandoning it to extract his fingers and stimulate the ring of muscle of his puckered hole.

 

When Trainer Keeloff was done, 3370 was incoherent with need, shaking, flushed, and sweating. The long orange tube, solid for the last two inches, and a hollow through the last bit to let urine through, prevented that powerful, winding feeling from releasing. Senseless moans escaped his throat and drool dribbled down his chin to puddle on the teak wood slabs. Then, with a final, sharp slap to his bottom, 3370 was pulled up and made to walk back to his room, his large dick, an angry red, bobbing in front of him crudely. He would be hard for hours, and after the sensation died away, the slightest breeze or movement would send his cock upwards faster than he could blink. 3370 had come to view bath time with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Dread because there were no words to describe the desperate need, and anticipation because bath time was the only time when Trainer Keeloff was gentle.

 

3370 looked around guiltily, his breath flickering in rapid succession. He did not want to continue stimulating that spot inside because even though it felt so good, the wanting feeling it left was almost torture. So 3370 kept still despite his discomfort, and in a few minutes his dick stopped straining against the thin fabric covering his groin.

 

The minutes carried on, blending into one another, and the truck was slowly emptied of slaves. When Mr. Fallon would open the door, an exquisite breeze would waft through the cabin. 3370 particularly enjoyed that sensation, and absently hoped that his new master would let him be in a place to experience it over and over again.

.o.

.o.

.o.

It was nine o'clock when Inuyasha pulled into his graveled driveway and shut off the engine of the car. His cell phone had rung off the hook for thirty minutes after he had dropped Kagome off, and after it started playing the 1812 overture for the eleventh time, Inuyasha shut it off. He had spent a good few hours driving around after that, needing some time alone; then stopped at a coffee shop for some dinner and a relaxing atmosphere.

 

Today had been a disaster from start to finish, and now Inuyasha had to go inside and deal with a slave that he had never wanted. His mother had raised him to be a good person, and seeing someone being treated so harshly had not only drawn pity from his well-hidden soul, but it scared him. Scared him because he could have very well been in that position if his father had been only fifteen seconds later.

 

And that was another reason, added to the growing list of why Kagome should be ejected from his life. Kagome wanted sex, but for Inuyasha sex meant a life long commitment, even as a half-exotic his instincts were not watered down, and sex was something he was not ready for. Yet she persisted, and acted like it was some great insult to her person that she had to use a vibrator to satisfy her baser needs.

 

Sesshomaru warned him about getting involved with humans, but at the time Inuyasha was so smitten with Kagome she could have gotten him to do cartwheels during a board meeting. There was no guarantee that Kagome would hold the same feelings after a year or two, no guarantee of marriage, and no guarantee that she would not just up and leave after a little while. Then where would Inuyasha be? How long would it take for his instincts to let go of the woman they had attached themselves to?

 

Inuyasha didn't trust Kagome, plain and simple. Not with his secrets, not with his life, and not with his heart. That was no healthy relationship.

 

Sighing tiredly, Inuyasha climbed out of the jeep, slamming the door with little care. He climbed up the white steps to the double doors of the front of his house, pulling out the elastic that kept back his long hair. The tension on his scalp eased, and Inuyasha scratched behind his ears in bliss.

 

He stopped when the quiet crunching of gravel alerted him to another car coming up the driveway. He turned around, waiting for the light sensors to pick up the motion of another car in the driveway.

 

A large, black truck with St. Charlie's logo on the side of it entered the flood of white light, and Inuyasha's ears twitched in annoyance when he realized that his slave had only just arrived. He waited as the truck slowed to a stop, the brakes almost silent except for that small squeal that only exotics could hear, and a tired-looking man in a rumpled-looking suit dropped from the cab. His short-cropped, brown hair was sticking slightly on end, and he patted it down before heading over to Inuyasha with a clipboard.

 

“Mr. Shreice?” He asked with a slight French accent. Inuyasha nodded, stepped forward, and took the proffered clipboard to sign.

 

“You were supposed to drop the slave off at eight. If my day hadn't gone to hell, the slave arriving now would have been a disaster,” Inuyasha scolded, scribbling his loopy signature quickly. He handed back the clipboard and the man took it, next offering another booklet similar to the one Kagome had been looking at when they left the center.

 

“I am terribly sorry, but we had several spots of trouble on the way, and three other customers wanted their slaves delivered at eight. We tried out best,” he said tiredly, giving the impression that he had said the same thing several times before.

 

“Whatever, just get my slave out here, I want to go to bed soon,” Inuyasha said waspishly, and the weary man nodded and turned around, an extra slump to his shoulders. After a few moments he exited and slowly led the slave with the cobalt eyes from the back of the truck, catching and righting the exotic when he stumbled on the steps.

 

The slave was still dressed in that furred g-string from the show, and traces of the shiny oil the trainer used to slick him up for the showcase was still evident on his shoulders and neck. Blue eyes scanned the area in wide fascination, and when a strong gust of wind blew through the yard, they closed in appreciation. The dealer held the leash to the slave's collar, and when they approached Inuyasha, he transferred the leash in a ritualistic `ownership transfer' that some customers ate up.

 

“Mr. Shreice, may I present to you one of St. Charlie's finest for your satisfaction. He has been trained in a wide area of -”

 

“Stop,” Inuyasha interrupted with a hint of pity for the man. “It's late. Finish up your deliveries and go home because I don't care to hear something that will just waste my time.” The dealer looked at him gratefully and handed over the leather strap, turning on his heel and heading to the truck with a muffled “So long, and enjoy!”

 

Inuyasha watched as the dealer stowed the steps, shut the truck, and dashed to the passenger seat of the cab. He watched as the lights of the truck flashed, and the red break lights flared before dimming; then the black truck drove off into the night with a crunch and an almost imperceptible squeal.

 

Eventually, Inuyasha had to admit that he was stalling. He awkwardly turned to face his new slave, the headache that never quite went away rearing its ugly presence again, only to find that he was shivering slightly. Inuyasha shook his head in disgust and grabbed the slave by the elbow. The slave flinched violently then relaxed, but Inuyasha could tell that it was a forced gesture because the lines of tension in the exotic's neck and shoulders did not ease. He gazed warily into the grim-set face and hard eyes of the wolf exotic and released his tight grip on his arm.

 

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up and into some cloths,” he said gently, pity welling in his throat. He didn't want to pity the slave - knew from those eyes that the slave didn't want it, and would probably hate it - but how could someone not? How many times had this slave known actual kindness?

 

The exotic slave nodded and started forward at Inuyasha's gentler prodding. As they walked up the wide stone steps to the front door she slave's eyes were drawn to the surrounding nature, and Inuyasha noted with pleasure that he seemed to long to be in the thick of the swaying trees and the mountains. Inuyasha smiled. Maybe he had found a hiking companion.

 

Myoga was at the door, holding it open with any shock masked behind a cool demeanor. He nodded to Inuyasha and stooped to take the muddied shoes when Inuyasha had toed them off.

 

“Would you like me to lay out your night cloths, Sir?” he asked.

 

“No, but thanks Myoga, I'll take care of it. But if you could find some cloths for him,” -Inuyasha jerked his thumb at his new slave- “that would be great.” Myoga nodded and turned through a door on the right and up a flight of stairs while Inuyasha and the new slave followed.

.o.

.o.

.o.

3370 could not remember a time when he was so comfortable and so relaxed. He was lying on a small twin-sized bed, clothed with light blue sheets and a thick, brown blanket. Most importantly, they were clean. The light scent of detergent still clung to the pillowcases and surrounded him in a cocoon of fresh purity. He was clean, dressed in clean cloths - that actually covered him entirely! - in a clean bed, in a clean room, in a clean house. He could moan from bliss. In fact, he did.

 

The altogether brief interaction with his new master last night was not very informative. After ascending the stairs, they had crossed a large, central room and Master Shreice had showed him the bathroom and where he was to sleep. Then he had retired to his own room, leaving 3370 permission for full use of the bathroom.

 

And what a bathroom it was! White and blues and greens - nothing like the musty, steamy, sweaty browns and golds from the bathing rooms back at the center. Upon entering there was a knee-high, padded, vinyl bench five feet wide and was in the left corner against the two walls. The rest of the space between the bench and the far wall was taken up by a toilet. To the right was a huge, square tub in the far corner, and a long shower stall with a shallow basin next to it. A sink and medicine cabinet with a mirror was up against the right wall, and a linen closet shared a wall with the door.

 

And 3370 could spend as much time as he wanted in there; with no one touching him or looking at him and no Trainer Keeloff to give him a torturous “massage” afterwards. 3370 felt like a little boy for whom Christmas had come early.

 

The first thing he did was search the medicine cabinet and the linen closet for an enema bag. There was an awful time at the center when Trainer Keeloff had discovered 3370's allergic reaction to laxatives, and ended up teaching 3370 how to give himself and others enemas. 3370 actually thought it was rather pleasant - when he was allowed to do it. Trainer Keeloff was always too rough, and his enemas always made 3370's insides cramp up.

 

3370 ended up giving himself four rounds of two-quart bags, thoroughly flushing himself of the waste that had been plugged up for four days. The first two rounds, he could not take even half the bag before he felt the urgent need to evacuate. On the third bag, his breath started to quicken and his toes curled in pleasure as the soapy water flooded him. Then he filled himself up again with clear water, moaning in pleasure as the soothing heat traveled through his body, and clenching around the nozzle in his ass. Holding the enema, he submerged himself in the huge tub of steaming, frothy water; his stomach stretched pleasantly tight, and he enjoyed a long, fragrant bath.

 

3370 was a little worried that he would still get punished for taking such liberties. Trainer Keeloff had often given 3370 permission to do something, only to later say that the permission hadn't included such-and-such an action. Would he be punished like before? Would his master play the mind games that Trainer Keeloff was so fond of?

 

Before 3370 could get truly worried, the door to his small room opened. A short, squat, balding man, dressed in the uniform of a butler, stood in the doorway. His tiny tuft of a moustache twitched, and his eyebrows rose good-naturedly. 3370 recognized him as the man from last night who had greeted his master at the door.

 

“Well if it isn't the new slave, finally awakened to the world of the living,” the short man's raspy voice intoned. “I thought you had drowned in the bathroom last night; you spent so much time in there.” 3370 knew it. He was in trouble now, and already on a bad footing with one other slave in his master's house.

 

“Is my m-master angry?” 3370 asked anxiously, sitting up in his bed.

 

“Nah,” the short man waved away 3370's concerns with a thick-fingered hand and reached to pull back 3370's blankets. “Master Inuyasha probably didn't even notice,” the short man paused while helping 3370 out of bed, “In fact, he seems quite interested in speaking with you.”

 

3370 nodded absently, relieved that, finally, he would be getting some ground rules from his master. Trainer Keeloff constantly reminded him that every master was different, so every master would have their own rules. Rules on how to address their master, rules on how to behave in their presence or in the presence of others, rules on how, what, when, where and whom to serve, and rules of conduct with other slaves were to be learned the first time they were told to him. 3370 would be happy if he could just learn all the rules and avoid punishment.

 

The short man had turned his back to 3370 and was rummaging in the small, wooden wardrobe - the only other piece of furniture that occupied 3370's room. “Come to think of it, I don't rightly know what Master Inuyasha is doing with a slave like you. Here you go,” he said, turning around and handing 3370 the pile of clothes in his hands. 3370 took the clothes hesitantly, only setting them on his bed and beginning to undress after the short man snapped his fingers impatiently.

 

“I've been with the Shriece family since his father was a wee lad,” he said, gesturing with his hands to indicate a very small boy. “Master Inuyasha's grandfather didn't like slaves too much; refused to let any near his children, see, so he hired me.” 3370 frowned mildly upon hearing this. It was uncommon for a master to have hired help and slaves. He took the blue, button-up shirt from the pile and slid his arms in.

 

“Master Kosachi was like his father, you know: proud man, very proud.” The short man rocked back on his heels and stroked his stubby moustache. He didn't seem to care that 3370 was not speaking; only that he had an audience to talk to. “He kept his children away from slaves too; only used them as workers. That changed a few years after Master Inuyasha was born, though, and there hasn't been a slave on this vineyard in eighteen years.”

 

3370 jerked and stumbled as his second leg was poised to enter the brown pants the short man had provided. He fell heavily back on the bed and stared at him in surprise.

 

“Surprising, isn't it?!” The short man laughed heartily, patting his thick hand on 3370's shoulder. “Every one of his friends and associates are shocked to learn that he can get by and profit without about a hundred slaves running his vineyard, but he does it! Do you know why that is?” 3370, who had not yet resumed dressing, shook himself out of his daze and gazed inquiringly at the short man. “It's because the man's a business genius! True, he's not fond of the trade,” he trailed off, and his light cough in the ensuing silence jolted 3370 back into a flurry of action. After tucking his blue shirt into the pants, he quickly slid on a dark leather belt. The short man didn't provide any shoes, and didn't seem to think that 3370 would need them; which was just as well because 3370 had never worn shoes before and didn't think he'd like them all that much.

 

“Right, all set then?” the butler grunted. 3370 nodded his head, tucking his hands behind his back and ducking his head. 3370 followed the short man, who seemed to have decided to narrate the house's entire history, back the path he had taken the night before. At the bottom of the stairs, he followed the butler down a wide, yellow hall to a sunny dining room. A wide window stretched across the wall behind the table and filled the room with late morning sunlight. Sitting at the table was his new master, quietly reading the newspaper as he ignored the slices of fruit on his plate, spearing a sausage on his fork.

 

Inuyasha looked up when Myoga and the new slave entered, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from an article about riots in France.

 

“Thanks Myoga, you can go,” he said. Myoga bowed and left without a word, leaving a bewildered wolf exotic behind. Inuyasha studied him for a moment. The slave's bright cobalt eyes were downcast, glaring at his shoes; his hands were tucked behind his back, and, through a subservient gesture, he was bent forward in a bow. Like a true trained slave, he did not rise; only with Inuyasha's voice would he be commanded. “Please sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. The slave's muscled body unwound from its tense, submissive stance, only to wind itself again into a stiff statue, barely seated on his chair.

 

“Master Shriece,” the slave whispered in acknowledgement.

 

“I've called you down to get to know you a little. I want to tell you right now that I'm a pretty lenient person, and intend to treat you exactly like my employees. Unless you prove yourself to be trustworthy, you'll have just about as much freedom as the next guy.” The young exotic made no movement to indicate that he heard or even understood. Inuyasha sighed and folded his newspaper neatly with the most interesting story on top.

 

“Please relax. Short of attacking someone, there isn't anything you can do that will make me angry enough to punish you,” Inuyasha felt his attempts at reassuring the slave were in vain, but after a moment, his new slave nodded.

 

“Yes, Master Shriece,” he said, respectfully.

 

“I'd prefer it if you didn't call me Master at all, but you can do what makes you comfortable,” he grumbled, looking down at his uneaten melon.

 

“Yes, Master Shriece.”

 

Inuyasha held back a sigh and shook his head to dispel the mild annoyance that arose. “Okay, so tell me about yourself. What's your name, where did you come from?”

 

The slave, still avoiding eye contact began speaking in a soft voice. “My name is Number 3370. I am from the 3000 exotic slave line. There is no task I am unwilling to -”

 

Inuyasha cut him off, “There's no need for that.” He drummed his fingers on the white linen of the table cloth and considered his knuckles. “I don't want you to be afraid of getting hurt here. I won't ever punish you physically, okay?” When his reassurances received little response he continued, “Okay… Here's what I'm thinking. I'm going to have you shadow some people to take a look at the different jobs to do around here. Tonight, and for most nights after, we are going to take care of some business, and maybe shed some of that timidity between us, okay?”

 

“Yes, Master Shriece.”

 

Inuyasha puzzled this new addition to his household. His limited experience with slaves made him question this one's behavior. He had to admit as well that he was rather disappointed. There were no signs of the spirit he had seen. Of course, there were a few occasions where he misjudged someone's personality…. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or the slave was sick. Whatever the reason, Inuyasha cleared his throat and gave it up as a lost job. With a flick of his wrists, he went back to his newspaper.

 

Not too long later, Inuyasha heard footsteps along the hallway, but they were too hurried to be his maid. Myoga, looking panicked came tumbling though the door.

 

“The west vineyard is on fire!”

 

An: Yeah. I know it's been a long time. You wanna fight about it?! No, seriously, I write as the mood takes me. Deal.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.