InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Simple Complexity ❯ "Here In My Car..." ( Chapter 8 )

Hi ya'll! Sorry for being such a procrastinator! This is a coo chap yo! Finally, my friend Elaine has intervened by holding a gun to my head and forcing me to write—over the phone that is… A lot of stuff happens in here and its mighty long, so pace yourself, it's like driving the Indy 500—if it required reading. Ok, it's not THAT long.

Kagome felt as if she was trapped in a nightmare that continued to get worse. It was determined that they could all fit like tightly packed sardines into Hojo's mid-sized sedan. Mid-sized van? Inuyasha' eyebrows rose—he never thought there was much purpose to the car besides bad-mileage and carpooling kids. He couldn't remember a time in his life he would have allowed himself to buy a car like that. The idea the six of them being crammed in Hojo's dorky minivan was awful to the majority of them, but Yuka managed to whisper to Kagome excitedly, “There's plenty of room in the backseat!”

 

“For what?” Kagome returned, deadpan. Yuka appeared very appalled by this response.

 

“For what,” she repeated, indignant, “You disgust me…” she hissed looking somewhat aghast.

 

When they had all managed to squeeze into the thing (Yuka insisted on sitting in front with Hojo so Kagome and Sango were forced into the middle, compacted between both Miroku and Inuyasha), they were met with the sound of a stuttering engine. “Hmm…looks like I forgot to fill the tank with gas!” Hojo laughed bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

 

God was merciful. Kagome slid back, letting the air she had imprisoned inside her for ions fade out of her. “So…whose car should we all be stuffed into next?” Miroku inquired with a groan, massaging his back as Hojo had forbidden the use of the seat lever than reclined it. “Oh dear, it's so easy to break! And so bad for your posture to lean back!” he had said like an over-protective mother.

 

“Um…I can fit four…” Sango offered, motioning to her somewhat decrepit Volvo right outside her window.

 

“Perfect! I can fit two,” Inuyasha put in quickly, before anyone could offer a six-seated ride.

 

“Um, two?” Hojo mused, as if the idea was foreign to him. Sango rolled her eyes exaggeratedly the hanyou's way.

 

“It's a sports car, so appropriate, you always have to feel like you're racing, don't you?” she muttered, with a disparaging look Inuyasha's way. He chuckled under his breath, his face a little pink. Perhaps he was a little childish; perhaps he still hadn't let go of a boyish fascination with “cool” and “fast” cars. Maybe the very fact he was a racecar driver was proof enough of his inability to relinquish a childhood fantasy…

 

He still liked to go fast, though, and almost felt as if a car was an extension of the self. An expression of one's inner-workings. A car could be a manifestation of an indulgence of guilty pleasures or sin. Wasn't a car a sin? Poisoning God's earth slowly as humans went to hell in their fast one?

 

Inuyasha wasted no time clambering out of what he considered true hell, and helping Kagome out of the box-like, disgraceful excuse for an automobile. Abruptly, Inuyasha didn't feel like himself any longer when his thoughts began to linger over a singular thought enough to drive him partially insane. It was entirely silly. He felt like a middle schoolboy, his palms were sweaty when they grasped Kagome's to help her down to the ground from the van. The ridiculousness was almost unfathomable, that somehow he almost felt as nervous now as he did when he was about to give up his virginity the previous night. Well…his voice murmured inside his head in an attempt to explain the puzzling fact, you were revealing a lot of yourself than weren't you? You're so fucked-up you can't even take the thought of anyone else knowing the extant of your fucked-upness. You were just scared out of your fucking mind that she'd find out more about you when you had sex with her… Somehow it's more frightening with her, but she's the only one that's managed to make me show her… This doesn't make any fucking sense! So many people have seen it…why should I be nervous about her seeing it?

 

I wonder what Inuyasha's car looks like, Kagome thought idly.

 

He parked it somewhat down the street, so not to drag too much attention, so the two were forced to walk some ways before reaching it. Kagome carelessly shifted her gaze from person to person, tree to tree, street lamp to street lamp to street lamp…car to car… Inuyasha noticed her curious eyes peering in soundless query over random vehicles. I'm such a kid…my little toy means so much to me… Inuyasha thought, mocking himself.

 

He made no motion to indicate it was his, but Kagome froze immediately aware that it was. The odd thing about it was at first glance she knew immediately that there was no possible way in the entire universe that it didn't belong to him.

 

The thing was a piece of artwork. It's brilliant color glimmered under the afternoon light, red-orange dazzling the eyes that scanned it. Midnight black flames licked the sides from the floor, surrounded in golden lining. It was sleek and mirrored the environment that surrounded it back at you. The windows didn't appear existent; they were so clean. Kagome imagined many birds had met their demise, fooled that they were flying inside a perfectly open shelter. The interior was as equally deep ebony as the flames embroidered the outer shell of the creature. Her eyes were two water-droplet shaped chrome ones, each riding on a separate wave of the metal, bugling from over tires that went so high on the car, if they had tiptoes they could have stood on them and touched the windshield. Many vents dashing into its sun-kissed metallic surface served for greater acceleration and aero-dynamics. Silver rims made the tires something more, covered with violet and silver vines of painted fire that would make on-lookers dizzy once they spun into action. The metal demon's mouth was somewhat thin and smooth, two adjacent wide vents on either side created dimples. Staring at it long enough made one believe it was sunlight transferred into liquid, reflection deep within its healthy coat, than morphed into the solid shape of perhaps the last chariot left behind by Ickerus. The only thing Inuyasha had ever spent his money on was the beauteous imprisonment of the fire within him that stood before everyone to see. Some squinted in its over-powering light, some simply gawked at its sleek magnificence, and some had to touch it in order to believe it was real. To say it was a car was a dire misjudgment and understatement to make. Things are things. But art is a picture of a soul.

 

“Wow…” was all Kagome could manage.

 

“Wow…what?” Inuyasha returned, tapping his foot anxiously.

 

“Just…wow…” This wasn't helping; his eyes implored her to give some sort of sign of what she was thinking. He looked from her, then back to his physical piece of soul. Its voice beckoned him inside his head to put the shell around him that he might as well have been born with. This time he wasn't as quick to re-enter his sanctuary, as Kagome still hadn't shown him her acceptance or rejection of what was, essentially, a part of who he was. Suddenly, her eyes were off the metallic beauty, and back onto its creator, “You really like cars don't you?” It could be considered a question, but it wasn't really, it was clear she knew that he was obsessed with vehicles in every shape and size as long as he could go over 100 mph in them. Why she said it, he wasn't quite sure.

 

“Yeah, I really like cars…”

 

“That's cute,” she giggled. Inuyasha bristled.

 

“It's not cute! It's what I live for!” he cried defensively. Kagome's laughter subsided, somewhat, but she still smiled at him as if he were a vexed, cuddly puppy. “I guess I don't `really like cars'…maybe I…love cars…” Her giggles became audible once more and Inuyasha felt his anger returning somewhat.

 

“You don't love cars,” he stared at her with incredulous rage, “you ARE a car. All I have to do is put some fuel, and you just race off. Calm down, jeez…” He settled a little.

 

“Maybe I'm a little…obsessed…” She fingered the gold door handle on the right side, for the first time finding her pulse slightly rising about a vehicle.

 

“A little?” she returned with a laugh, still staring at the night-colored interior. It was gleaming leather—real leather. He IS rich, duh it would be real… Despite himself, the hanyou's face was lost in a smirk as he approached her from behind. His body pressed slightly against her back as he hung over her a little.

 

“People usually hate her or love her…there's not really an in-between. They either think she's the most ridiculous, over-done, tacky thing they've ever seen, or they're just stunned really…” he murmured, also falling into the hypnotic trance the automobile provided. Though she found herself somewhat mesmerized, a laugh escaped Kagome.

 

“Oh how can I compete…you already have a lover!” she joked, gripping the handle. She instantaneously felt the soft pressure of Inuyasha's hand on hers.

 

“Right, like I'd let you drive…she has to get used to you first. She doesn't take well to strangers…” he whispered.

 

“So unlike her owner,” Kagome retorted, smiling broadly at him.

 

“Yeah, well I'm going to show you how a pro drives…”

 

“Oh, ho, ho, ho! Let's see it then, proceed, Mr. Pro!” Kagome cried pulling away from the car and curtseying. She followed him around it to the right side. “American cars are so weird…with the driver's wheel on the left side…”

 

“Yeah, well watch out,” he warned her, pulling the door handle. Kagome missed the meaning as the car door flung upward with a great big SWOOSH, hitting her square in the face. She screamed, stumbling backward, but dependable as ever, Inuyasha managed to swoop her up into his arms before any further harm befell her. She almost forgot her affliction entirely as she peered up at the hanyou's face.

 

“You okay?” he inquired with a mixture of quilt and concern.

 

“Yeah…” she returned vacantly, her hands linked behind his neck.

 

“…Kagome…aren't our friends waiting for us…we probably should get a move on…”

 

“Mmmmnnn…” she groaned through her closed mouth, latching onto Inuyasha more tightly. She put her entire weight on him, hoping to knock him into the opened car. Then she remembered, he's a hanyou—why can't he be weak enough to push around?! He chuckled at her attempt to capture him.

 

“Oh, poor baby Kagome. Come on, usually you seem so loyal to your friends…” he trailed off, glancing hopefully at her. He didn't want to think she wasn't.

 

“Oh, I'm always good and loyal…” she glowered, straightening up, “I say I finally stop being such a goody-two-shoes and do what I want for once…”

 

“You just need some coffee,” he assured her, breaking away from her and directing her inside the car. She reluctantly withdrew her long legs inside its interior so that Inuyasha could close the door without smashing them. By the time he had journeyed around the lava-colored vehicle and settled inside, stroking the leather seat as if it were a fond woman's leg, he noticed Kagome was of improved spirits.

 

“I have to admit this is pretty damn cool…” she remarked, gazing around at everything with a brighter look about her.

 

 

“FUCK!!!!” she screamed as the car suddenly jerked backward, swerved round in a full circle and soared down the empty street. Her hair was displaced, and so were her wits for several moments afterward. Inuyasha had the most entertained expression on his face. Kagome's eyes were the size of pool balls until she finally composed herself. Inuyasha felt her glare icing through him as he drove.

 

“What?” he said, shrugging, as if he couldn't grasp why she was so irked. There was a long pause, “I told you, I'm a pro. I know what I'm doing. I wouldn't do anything to endanger your life, I swear.” This didn't life the darkened expression still slamming against the side of his face from the passenger seat.

 

“You'll kill us both,” she grumbled, her voice rattling through her chest as she crossed her arms. Inuyasha laughed.

 

“Nah, I do way more dangerous things than that all the time,” he retorted conversationally.

 

 

“So, where's Inuyasha's car?” Yuka asked, searching the streets for it. The toothpaste-colored Volvo inched toward the mouth of the freeway. Miroku and Sango exchanged looks, both seated in the front of the prehistoric car.

 

“Oh…my…fucking…God…&# 8221;

 

Only a few cars before them, resided the heavenly beauty that was Inuyasha's most prized possession.

 

Yuka and Hojo were trapped in a staring contest with its glittering aura until Sango's car suddenly jerked forward, breaks squeaking to announce their arthritis. “It's every man's dream,” Miroku sighed, with a smile of reverie on his face. Sango shook her head disapprovingly.

 

“I think it's a little much…” she said, though deep down she wouldn't mind speeding down a nonexistent vacant road in Inuyasha's “sweet ride.” It was likely she felt more than a twinge of envy as she glanced down at the coffee stained car seat beneath her, lined with you-got-me-after-your-old-Volvo-died-on-you-for-half-price-from-the-cheesie st-car-salesman-ever vinyl covering.

 

“I dare-say I agree,” Hojo replied, “…a car is simply a car; a thing to get you from place to place. Plenty of people can fit in my car—those poor beggars on the street have to walk on their bare feet to make it to their destinations! Doing so much to a car seems a little…”

 

“…awesome?!” Yuka squealed, taking the liberty to choose her own ending to Hojo's sentence, “I don't know a thing about cars, but I do know that one is wicked!” she finished, still unable to avert her gaze from its brilliance.

“It's perfection,” Miroku breathed in awe, always moved in the vehicle's presence. Sango's gut knotted with an increasing jealousy, synchronized with the repeated rolling of her eyes. As the three of them were immersed in whatever feeling the red-orange automobile was giving them, somewhat outside their windows, Hojo was perfectly immune. He sat oblivious to it, pondering over what movie they were to see when they reached the theatre. Yuka's gaze finally parted with the car to end all cars, and chose different excitable portions of Hojo's body for her eyes to linger at. She found herself becoming progressively with anticipation.

 

He might be pure-minded and…and well Hojo…but he IS hot…plus gullible. Hot and gullible are a good combo. Not once did Yuka ever feel guilty over such thoughts.

 

Hmm…I wonder what Kagome's doing…Hojo thought presently, noticing Yuka's eyes quickly shift away from him. He fidgeted uncomfortably. Then again…I AM going out with…her, aren't I?

 

 

“Have you found them yet?” hissed a voice from the speaker over-head. Crammed densely in a mammoth, white van was a jungle of wires and buzzing computers. It wasn't difficult to become ensnared by the arms of the black vines reaching through the darkness. The only guidance inside the place, still ingesting aged sweat and old food odors were the wan computer screens, glowing unset digital clocks, and other blinking electronic lights. Otherwise, there was little else to give one the privilege of analyzing the back of their hand.

 

Out of the stuffy, weighted atmosphere were other gleaming things, eerie eyes staring dully at those pale, ghostly screens, or scanning sprawled porn magazines. All of the workers inside had no friends, except for the computers and electronics they had built and began to form a close bond with. They all were demons. This was odd in a time where almost all work forces were a good mix of demon and human, though somehow hanyou remained the butt of many jokes. Their boss only wanted pureblooded youkai, whose lives were surrounded in electronics. This cesspool of “fine” specimen had an unalienable attachment to computers and anything that could process information without having to open its big mouth and complain about it. In other words, if it wasn't living, if it ran on electricity or battery or solar power, and it wasn't human or youkai. Their second loves were anime girls and porn. Money came close as a third.

 

“Hello?! You penis-deprived—” came the chilling, authoritative voice once more. A few of the demons glanced from their porn and videogames for a moment, to squint at the speaker above them.

 

“Yes, boss,” returned an alligator demon, who, in his life, wound up clinging to computer as he was rejected from the social world. He had been the only one of his mother's eggs who had escaped being his father's dinner.

 

“It's not exactly hard,” coughed another, vexed that the last life of his Pacman game was up in smoke. The next moment was over-fed with a venomous soundless response. All the demons shivered, cowering near to their electronic loved ones. “S-sorry…uh—sir,” finished the toad demon, who began to ribbit uncontrollably every time he became nervous.

 

“We right on they tail—”said the rabbit demon closest to the front of the van, he heard his master's malicious anger enter his breathing, “—well fars enough away so they doesn't see us.” The alligator massaged his temples at the intolerably, god-awfully, atrociously bad grammar.

 

“We're right on THEIR tail…FAR enough, so they D—”

 

“Just shut up,” a weasel demon quavered, shuddering with sexual excitement as he was huddled behind the latest issue of Weasel Wankers Weekly.

 

“Inform me when you are able to hear anything.” And that was the end of The Boss's check-in.

 

 

Kagome continued to scan her life for something she did wrong to deserve a group date with Yuka. They had been driving for some time, the free way finally behind their backs, as they turned onto the very congested pass by a highly popular hangout at the birth of spring. The sparkling lake's water scattered light into jubilated children's eyes, which lit up with anticipation at the clumps of blurred forms that were far off people. The road curved, they inched closer, traffic easing out a little, giving Inuyasha the privilege of breathing freely without eating gas fumes. One of the downsides to having his keen sense of smell was he became so light headed and dizzy when powerful odors such as those ejected from old exhaust pipes reached him.

 

They made a few turns, and Inuyasha became sure of it. He had been flipping the suspicion up and down in his head for some time now. At this point, the evidence was unavoidable. “Someone's following us,” Inuyasha said, eyes shifting quickly from the review mirror to the road in front of him and back several times.

 

“Well, obviously,” Kagome responded, slightly bewildered, reclining in her seat, “Yuka and the others are following us, remember.”

 

“Yeah, but…” he began, stuffing his anxiety deep within himself, “…it's not them.” He struggled to retain his composure as he brought the vehicle smoothly over the speed limit by ten miles an hour. “It's a van.” Kagome began to twist her body around, resulting in an instantaneous reaction from Inuyasha to snap her back and sharply into her seat. “Don't give any sign we see them.” His claws clutched her shoulder, his unease focused in that motion, for several moments that squeezed through a tight funnel to finally pass. Kagome's breaths climbed through her lungs, uneven. Her heart was slamming on the offbeats of the song blasting from the car stereo.

 

“What's going on—who would follow us?” Kagome clenched the death-like silence away, allowing her nails to take residence in the indentations they formed in her palms.

 

“People from Sesshomaru's company, I'll bet…somehow they know he wants me to take over…” Finding himself more panicked than he should be, Inuyasha found his thoughts straining around in circles and stumbling upon old idea after old explanation. It was Kagome, the very fact she was in danger with him made his thoughts hindered by a frenzied hysteria.

 

“What do they want?” she demanded, noticing her voice crammed into a higher pitch. He didn't answer her, afraid of the most probable reason himself. Forcing the drying saliva down her throat, Kagome opened her mouth to ask again, but found herself too panic-stricken to say anything. The music booming throughout the inside of the vehicle became faint and distant, there was a trouble making sprite inside her head emptying out all the thoughts and reason and replacing them with terror.

 

The next second passed, followed by several more insignificant ones.

 

The car then swerved off the road.

 

It tore down the steep side of the giant hill the cluttered traffic had been meandering along in a great big spiral.

 

Inuyasha's senses and thoughts were gone as his skull felt as if it was ripping apart as Kagome's scream burrowed into it. The car was completely balanced on its two right wheels, as it swerved, the left ones in mid-air for an instant as the sound and smell of burning rubber was the only thing present in Kagome's blinded conscious.

 

And she knew the next moment the car would be upside down.

 

And she would be crushed.

 

Inuyasha would be crushed.

 

 

“Ugh! Turn it off!” Miroku groaned, just as Nsync's electronic, harmonized voices lapped through the only thing in that car less than Sango's age: the stereo she had implanted in it. Yuka had just begun dancing (as well as she could while sitting on her buttocks, anyway) when a wonderfully executed grimace polluted, what were in her mind, perfect features.

 

“That was Nsync?” she screamed in disgust, “I was just beginning to dance to that crap too…” Once more, Hojo seemed rather indifferent.

“All music is a gift for the soul,” he said, yet far more robotically than you probably imagine. As Sango watched the obnoxious twosome in her rear-view mirror, she almost expected Hojo to spasm like a robot with a little short in it.

 

“That music was created to TAKE over your soul. Now that everyone's figured out they're talentless Ken dolls created for profit, they can't stop playing what's more popular up in here Japan and what always has been.”

 

“Jpop…” Sango grumbled, shaking her head as she rubbed her temples at the thought.

 

“That's better than Jrap,” Miroku responded, shaking his head and shuddering, “I love the Jpop music videos…those girls with the cute tight skirts…and succulent breasts…” The remaining three stared at the daydreaming lecherous man before them. “What? Don't you?”

 

“Well, considering that half the people in this car are girls, and the only remaining boy lacks a sex-drive all together…” Sango murmured under her breath, trailing off. Leading up to this moment, was the lifetime of eavesdropping Yuka experienced in preparation, which gave her the privilege of being the only one who heard.

 

“He does too have a sex-drive! EVERYONE has a sex drive, right Hojo?” Yuka cried, rather loudly. Hojo looked like a Kuala in the deep sea pacific. He did NOT belong in this moment.

 

“I…suppose…so?” Yuka was the only one among them blatantly blunt and obnoxiously obtrusive enough to ask the question aloud that the remainder of the passengers in that living-dead car had all confined in their minds.

 

“Have you ever been horny before?” Sango almost swerved off the road.

 

“…I…what?” Hojo said, though he had heard her perfectly. Yuka sighed impatiently.

 

“You know, been sprung…had an erection? Found someone or something HOT?” If Sango wasn't mistaken, someone had crossed-bred Hojo with a fire hydrant, then replaced him with the mutated offspring. There was one of the most painful silences that Hojo, Yuka, and Sango had ever experienced. Miroku was happy to shatter it, only finding silences painful when they took up the space in time that his sexual partner was supposed to be orgasming.

 

“Oh come on!” he laughed, “don't be embarrassed!” he cried as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world, “even Sango gets horny sometimes. But what do you want to bet on an average day her underwear's as dry as a hydro-phobe's bathtub!”

Before she had the chance to reduce Miroku to a pile of bruised flesh, protruding and fractured bone, and blood, she was transfixed by the sight before her. Her feet used the instinct within her that hadn't been frozen up by utter shock, to move and slam themselves into the breaks. The toothpaste surface of the Volvo was almost reduced to crinkled garbage against the gargantuan SUV before them, inches away from its intimating chrome-surface when it wailed to a halt.

 

All the other drivers, separated by their plastic and nickel sanctuaries, did the same either prior or following Sango's reaction. They were either staring with mixtures of worry and excitement or with thunderously bewildered expressions on their face in search for the reason their oh-so-important journey was interrupted.

 

Someone had swerved off the road. Sango was currently the only one in the car aware that it was Inuyasha.

 

 

The entire metal titan's body rattled, and Kagome clutched onto Inuyasha's arm, preparing to look death straight in the eye before it swooped down and claimed her as its latest prey. She felt his lips breeze over her face before he let go of her entirely. She opened her eyes finding the world around her lacking the discourse and destruction she predicted would appear. The car had righted itself, landing on all four of its wheels. She was thrown forward, and then her back ground into the back of the seat. The edge of the seat belt sawed at her neck. They had stopped.

 

“I told you, I'm a pro.” Kagome almost slapped him, but decided to check her body instead and make sure she was all in one piece. To her left was an oddly calm hanyou sitting beside her. It's as if… her thoughts jumbled when he spoke.

 

“This is the cool part,” informed her with a cocky grin. Pulling back on what appeared to be a second, smaller gearshift between their seats, a compartment opened, revealing a collection of various electronic buttons. Kagome suddenly felt as if she was in a spy movie. “Have you read about the proto-type cars they've been developing?”

 

“No,” Kagome whimpered, her heart still having a fit. Wordlessly, he responded by pushing the largest button inside the newly opened compartment, causing distinct metallic clicking sounds to vibrate from all around the two. Sprouting from within each vent on the outside of the car came small mounds of metal, which became tent like in shape and clasped around each opening. It sounded almost like being pelted with rocks thrown by evil children from the inside. Similar miniscule metallic shields, hugging the skin of the car tightly, concealed all the edges around the windows. It was airtight. Though she was perfectly unaware of what had just happened, Kagome began to get that foreboding sensation once they've made a life-altering decision they are unsure about, that there was no escape.

 

A cool, artificial breeze kissed her face, emerging from the slender slits that ran along the plastic dashboard before her, recycled air rushing in to keep them company. No speech occurred between them, Kagome felt lost in her own world—looking in at Inuyasha and herself from the outside. She suddenly realized why she felt so confined—as if some sort of predator was coming for her and she was a restrained insect larva on some arachnid's web. In all the excitement, her mind had tossed the thought of the unseen stalker coming for them away. Now, rattled by the recent perilous even that had just befallen them, trapped on the untamed, jagged side of the hill between several arms of the traffic-ridden roads that spiraled about the hill: they were as good as captured.

 

She noticed Inuyasha's whole body clench up as if he were preparing for something unpleasant. An instant later, after his body slowly tightened, in succession after the strain on his face—clearly acknowledging the wincing that would soon occur—he slammed his right hand into his horn. It was then she remembered his sensitive ears, and couldn't help feeling a portion of his pain.

 

The car jolted threateningly forward toward the currently liberally flowing traffic on the lower level of the road before them. It managed to stop a few feet short of the road, causing the car about to enter its pathway to halt. The next car's driver happened to see what was halting as well, a domino effect occurred where every car was forced to screech to a halt, some managing to rear-end the driver before them. Inuyasha smelled no blood, so he roared up the engine, and to Kagome's utter surprise and alarm, raced across the gap now formed in front of him in the road.

 

They careened down the steep side of the hill, coming at the next arm of the spiraling road in their path. Kagome clamped the hand free of gripping Inuyasha over her mouth, realizing the pain her shrieking was inflicting on his eardrums. Their dash toward what Kagome could only imagine was the bottom of the hill, was continuous as they approached the next portion of the road obstructing their path. The traffic below was far more coagulated. The still traffic before them was a massive metal chain slowly and temporarily unlinking at different cars, then rejoining as the next link in consecutive order was forced to move up and rejoin with the car before it. The two cars barricading the way were separated, as the front most one moved forward, creating the opening Inuyasha needed. The second remained immobile, the over-weight driver staring wide-eyed at the sleek sport's cars mad rampage down the hill. Kagome and Inuyasha tore passed him.

 

All Kagome could do was continue screaming, non stop, feeling her voice become gradually more hoarse as it ripped through her throat and became muffled against her palm. “Don't worry,” Inuyasha finally managed to say, his entire being concentrated in the stunt he was pulling, “I'm a pro.” He bit down on his tongue as he skillfully swiveled the steering wheel in his sweaty palms and lithely veered the car to the right, narrowly slithering through a gap in the traffic a small distance to the side from them. A chorus of car horns seared through their brains and nearly caused Inuyasha's to blow up.

 

“HOW CAN I NOT WORRY?” She couldn't keep her questions to herself any longer, but was ashamed that she had caused a distraction and affliction to Inuyasha. The question escaped her only as a scream. The front of a pick-up truck nearly abraded the side of the flawless god that was tearing an asphalt and soil fire down that hill.

 

“We're almost there.” ALMOST WHERE?!!!! Kagome's thoughts cried, banshee-like, the thoughts of someone in an asylum. She couldn't plead for the answer aloud, afraid she would cause an accident.

 

Suddenly, she was entirely white. All the blood gone from her face.

 

In the rear-view mirror was depicted the enormous ghost of the van. It barreled after them. The stalker was very real. And insane.

 

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” roared the voice from above the head of the flustered driver.

 

“G-goin' after them, sir,” stammered the bird demon that ironically had spent all his life driving trucks.

 

“You were supposed to follow DISCRETELY—from what I hear from those electronic bastards—”

 

“Just doin' the job.”

 

“This isn't an assassination mission! You were supposed to get information—that was the extant of it—you incompetent—”

 

“Why not smash him into the pavement, and finish the job?” The venomous voice above was sputtering unintelligibly in pure rage. “Fine, but they have no where to go at the bottom if we get there about the same time. I could make a DIESAL truck disappear. Once we get near to the bottom, I'll take a different route down, and follow `em from there. Otherwise, we've lost `em.” Silence.

 

“You better not screw this up, or you're mine.” The threat was a small, earthquake sending a tremor down the youkai's vertebrae. He'd rather be killed several times over by some slow disease than be turned over to The Boss to be dealt with.

 

 

“Inuyasha—they're—” came the acute whistle of her voice.

 

“I know,” he answered before she could finish, “why do you think I'm doing all this fucking insane stuff to get away from them?” His right hand abandoned the steering wheel and stroked her hand soothingly, but his eyes never strayed from the obstacles ahead. “Just hang on, alright?”

 

“What's gonna—” she felt a scream forming in her throat, and her opposite hand provided a barrier between it and the outside world.

 

They had reached the bottom of the hill. A sea of parked, napping cars lie before them, laughing; unknowing people lingered between them. A line of serene cars glided toward the parking lot that decorated the body of water that seemed to stretch for so much longer than it really did. The fiery, erratic spirit that contained them plunged through the cluttered street ahead. At the achieved speed, the car's feet were lifted off the ground and BAM, the force ricochet through the vehicle as it slammed into the ground. It tore through the lose soil, shredding it up as it forced dust down the throat of its white pursuer. The innocent cars below, lost in an afternoon nap in the sun became closer and closer. Body gone numb, and getting the perception that she was floating, Kagome felt all the realization of what was ahead enter her mind and than become detached from her. She was watching an insane movie; where there was a car chase occurring that would never happen in real life. What lie ahead were only lines and lines of cars, and then crowds of people. And a lake.

 

The car that encased them maneuvered its way around the plotted dozing rows of cars, and the conscious ones that slowly slithered like a snake in search of a succulent rodent. Asphalt was no longer under their wheels; the sound of the rattling albino van magnetized to them came into Kagome's numb world.

 

Where in hell would they go?

 

What in hell did these people want?

 

She was shaken out of thoughts by the piercing calls of the car's horn and the screams of the people who desperately tore through sand to remove themselves from its mad rampage. Inuyasha managed to artfully just lick the sides of most picnic tables…other's were crushed under the mightiness of the sun god's silver and violet wheels. The lake was just before them. Kagome didn't stop her scream. She wanted him to hear it. Had he gone blind? Had he gone mad? Had both happened in the last instant—or progressively for some time without her noticing? Over and over she screeched something only somewhat audible over the roar of the engine. Afterward, she could recall what it was.

 

She screamed one last time before they hit the water.

 

 

“What happened to them?” Miroku rhetorically inquired, as the whole elderly car stopped where tire marks graffitied the sports car had originally swerved off the road. All four desperately struggled to escape the rickety Volvo, finding the doors had stiff joints that were difficult to move. The four had only managed to see the car smooth in a suspiciously clean manner off the road and down the hill out of sight. By the time the congestion of cars had loosened enough for them to pull over and get to the site of the accident, there was no sign of the dazzling sports car or its passengers anywhere.

 

“And what about the van that went right after them?” Yuka squeaked worriedly, Sango gave her what Miroku liked to call the “Sango â„¢ look.”

 

“Right,” she said with the utmost sarcasm and flatness to her tone, “come on, you don't think this is one of those stupid car chase movies, do you?” There was a silence.

 

“They didn't ACCIDENTALLY go off the road, though,” Miroku acknowledged, trying to see anything beyond the rings and rings of traffic that repeated down the hill.

 

“Those two SO ditched us,” Yuka said after a portion of time that passed where no one spoke.

 

“You think?” Hojo inquired, definitely not new to the idea.

 

“It's true Inuyasha's a professional…and he did leave the road quite cleanly…” Miroku added to back up this point, saddened that he wouldn't be able to ride back home in the beautiful, but missing car.

 

“SO HE WORRIED US JUST SO THEY COULD GO OFF AND—AND—AND—”

 

“—have sex together?” Miroku finished, normally the one needed to complete Sango's sentences concerning the subject.

 

“HAVE SEX??!!!” brayed Yuka, not only feeling betrayed, but also envious.

 

“Have SEX?!” Hojo cried, having been deprived of any prior knowledge of Kagome's sexual activities with Inuyasha. The next precious moments were filled with the sound of Hojo's shattering heart.

 

“Let's go,” Sango growled, after Hojo's heart had thoroughly been obliterated.

 

The world was light, well in a dingy, brownish-green sort of way, when Kagome once again found herself alive when she was sure she should be dead. There was no damage; the car wasn't flooding. “This is one of the proto-types, hardly anyone has a car that's capable of this—cool isn't it?” For the first time, Kagome knew what it was like to be a fish—in a sense. Now she really felt like she was in a spy movie.

 

“We…can drive…underwater?! We're not going to die?!” she cheered, discovering that she was now inside the body of a considerably more optimistic person.

 

“Well…” he responded slowly, “…it is a prototype…but we should be fine…”

 

“We ARE going to die,” she murmured, a slight quiver in her voice.

 

 

“Are you sure we should just leave?” Miroku pried carefully, noting the murderous expression fiercely etched in Sango's face as she aggressively drove.

 

“Move out of the WAY, ASS HOLE!!!” she roared, nearly crashing into the car as she rushed into the lane to her left, then shifted back into her previous lane cutting off the sluggish Toyota. The ordinarily slow and reserved Volvo was now a killing machine and wouldn't let any car—big or small—stand in its way.

 

“Well, they did ditch us,” Yuka reminded him in an obnoxious singsong, to answer Miroku's question. His hand dove into the right pocket of his jeans and recovered a tiny blue cell phone. Sango and Yuka glared profusely at the thing.

 

“Why are you calling them?” Yuka and Sango demanded at the same time, but in entirely varied tones. Yuka just whined, Sango hissed like a snake ready to inject venom into its prey.

 

“I'm…just…” Miroku began hesitantly, cowering before Sango's dangerous expression, “…making sure.” All of remaining three groaned; Miroku was surprised that Hojo joined in.

 

“Don't call, it never helps,” Hojo advised, speaking from experience. This wasn't the first time he had been ditched. Only, to him “ditched” was such a harsh word, it was more “misplaced” among the busy lives of friends, family, and dates. It wasn't their fault, nor his, he knew, it was only life's chaotic and uncertain course. It never bothered him… For some inexplicable reason, at that thought Hojo was unable to stop his head from twitching noticeably.

 

“Hojo?” Yuka asked, looking concerned.

 

“Yes?” he said, with a brimming smile, and polite tone. Yuka flinched, unsure if that amount of cheer was normal given the circumstance that all three of them had just been discarded by Kagome and her new boyfriend for “better, brighter pursuits.”

 

“N-never mind…” she stuttered, stumbling over her response. The two spied Miroku dialing regardless of the threatening look Sango was giving him and (not surprisingly) Hojo's advice. Miroku, unlike Hojo, wasn't accustomed to being ditched. Women either hated him or wanted to sleep with him, that was it. So if they hated him, they told him right away with the slap of the face. That was the only physical contact (besides a pre-distributed consolation prize of the usual groping every desirable women he saw received) that he achieved before a vexed “ado.” On the other side of the coin, the woman would accept the flirt graciously and make it clear she wanted a romp in the sac immediately. There was no in-between. Except, perhaps Sango, who decide to hang around (beyond all of Miroku's reasoning power to grasp) to make his life a living hell and decide that no other woman was aloud to feel the touch of his wandering hand. Unfortunately, she was included in that group of women, though often Miroku managed to get some of her rear within his palm if he snuck well enough. The slap would always come, however, then the beating. He made it a weekly ritual to count the bruises.

 

In any event, Miroku wasn't one to take this ditching business lightly. People were ordinary somewhat straight forward with him. He wasn't the kind to allow secret thoughts to linger in the minds of females (he felt that was a rather dangerous thing to allow), and by his direct approach he was sure he could summon the honest, upfront reaction he wanted (also, he didn't mind the lecherous desires being satisfied when he groped them, either). No one ditched him, not Inuyasha, not any women, no demon, half demon, or half purple cow, god dammit! He dialed that number, even though Sango's eyes were burning a hole in his head.

 

“Hello?” he said, in a very business-like manner, “Inuyasha?” The others looked on, able to hear Inuyasha's voice on the other end of the phone. “Hey—um—where are you?” They all heard an audible: “Um…I'm…well…”

 

Oh yeah.

 

They had SO been ditched.

 

“Um…well, what, Inuyasha?” Miroku inquired curtly. They could hear the sputtering response, and immediately all four of them couldn't be more assure of the undeniable truth. “You know what? We don't care where you are.”

 

“Uh…what?” came Inuyasha voice from the little phone, sounding taken aback and surprised. It wasn't often one succeeded in evoking a temper from Miroku. Especially without meaning to.

 

“THAT'S RIGHT!!!” screamed Sango, nearly colliding with a street lamp as the car screeched and moaned and she finally regained control of it.

 

“But—” came his voice.

 

“YOU DITCHED US!!” wailed Yuka, looking deeply hurt, “KAGOME!! I SAW THIS COMING FROM A JERK GUY I DON'T KNOW—BUT YOU?!”

 

“Dammit, Inuyasha,” Miroku said, also looking betrayed, “how could you do this just to screw a girl!?”

 

“Oh yeah, like YOU'VE never done that before,” came Inuyasha's extremely sarcastic voice.

 

Miroku closed his mouth, put his hand over the phone's speaker, and looked at them all. “He does have a point,” he whispered. “I mean, she IS really, really, really—seriously hot.” Sango punched him. “Ow!” Then succeeded in snatching the phone. Inuyasha's voice could be heard, but abruptly stopped once Sango viciously jammed the red “end” button down with her index finger and slammed the thing shut. Just as Miroku recovered from the blow to his face, the cell phone struck him after Sango threw it in his direction.

 

“I say, screw `em,” Sango growled, sharply turning the Volvo around an immense building and nearly crashing into the car around the corner.

 

“I think they'll have a fine time doing that by themselves,” Miroku put in, sulking. No one said anything, Sango was furious, Yuka was certain she would never forgive who was formerly her best friend, and Hojo felt the little pieces of his heart being smashed into even smaller ones.

 

 

The speed that the underwater navigational system found a way out and the car clambered its way from the watery depths surprised Kagome. She wasn't dead, and the interior of the shinning god was bone-dry. Not only that, but there was no sight of that white van—or Yuka or anyone else. While she heard Yuka's distressed wailing over the phone, Kagome failed to find any sign of guilt within herself. Am I becoming a bad person?

 

Her eyes fell onto Inuyasha and immediately she was content. “So, what's the plan?” she inquired, caressing his leg up and down, resulting in the repeated shuddering of his body. This reaction forced a smile on her face.

 

“I—uh—was going to show you the race track. The van's no where near this place.” Kagome had already known that, but how? She had known because that awful sensation within her had disintegrated. But what feeling? And how did that prove anything? “There's demons in that van, I can't sense `em anymore…” her further explained at the bewilderment on her face. She hardly heard him, still navigating through her own thoughts. “Kagome?”

 

“The race track, eh? More showing off?” she joked, clenching his right knee. Now she was the only person alive who knew the only place he was ticklish. The car abruptly shifted put of the fast lane. “Not such a good driver, huh?” she laughed, removing her slender fingers from his kneecap. Hardly the type to tease, somehow she found it irresistible to do so to the temperamental hanyou. With a refreshed, stammering exhalation, he regained control of the haughty car. Despite his usual attitude in the face of ridicule, he couldn't suppress a laugh this time.

 

“Good thing I don't have to race with you in the car—I'd lose then!” he said, chuckling, willing his arousal to settle down and discontinue the clouding of his mind it was causing.

 

“Yeah, but it I was in the car I know something you'd be able to get finished doing faster than anyone,” she retorted, mocking him where it stung a little.

 

“Fast, huh? Sorry I'm not good enough to keep you satisfied—though I've only known you less than two days…” he trailed off, still smiling and incapable of taking her ridicule to heart. Two…two days? The idea was a clock's redundant singsong, a ricocheting fact, bouncing off the walls of her head over and over. No matter how many different angles she heard it echo, reverberating along her skull, she was still entirely astounded by it.

 

“Only two days?!” she gasped, “It seems so much longer…” Suddenly, it was strange how at home she felt and had felt here with him.

 

“Not even two days,” he corrected her, passing a few cars in the adjacent lane. Kagome eyes the speedometer, which was steadily rising. Despite the fact he was drifting more and more over the speed limit, she could really feel unsafe there, in that luscious moment of ease—besides, they used kilometers in Japan (American's with their miles and inches!)—so she didn't have the means to carefully regulate how much he was going over in a paranoid frenzy. Inuyasha was forced to do the conversions in his head constantly as he faintly noted the speed limits before he disregarded them and surpassed them.

 

Perhaps, it was only strange to her that it had been such a short time of her life spent with Inuyasha because she knew him better than anyone she had known for years.

 

“Here it is,” the hanyou informed her, blowing a few of his pearly strands of hair out of his face, “I like the one back home in America better—but hey—any race track I'll take. Plus, this is the one I was first trained on…”his voice lingered on the last statement fondly before it faded. Stretching before them was a far-off ebony river of asphalt; the towering bleachers stood on the two opposite sides of the track. Several minuscule dots -people—sparsely decorated the countless seats, while others swam through the water-lined, ovular track. A zigzagging roof hung over the top of the gargantuan structures built for seating, yet behind them, the taking the crowning height, was Mount Fuji. It's pure white blanket bounced off the blinding light flooding from the true blue sky. Nature's structure lie behind those bleachers of souring heights, like background noise in a recording, but its mightiness never faltered. It's gaze cut across the horizon, as the cloudless sky slammed into it.

 

The entire track was huge.

 

Having never once in her life seen a racetrack, Kagome stared for a considerable time, deep within awed silence. Sure, she had seen photographs of the place, resting on various tables and other surfaces at the news station she worked at, but what a difference it made to see it in person! Fuji Speedway. Her mind made the connection at once, picking up the fond memory of her co-worker and friend Eri, vehemently fighting for the opportunity to report the big race at the track last year.

 

 

“Kagome!!! They have you signed up for THE OPENING RACE FOR THE FORMULA NIPPON CHAMPIONSHIP!!!” Kagome stared at her hysteric friend, debating in her mind whether she should hide or not. After settling her deep and rushed breaths, she proceeded to calmly respond to Eri's ranting and raving.

 

“Okay…so…what is the problem?” she inquired slowly and cautiously, well aware that there were many sharp pencils and other acutely tipped objects Eri could use as weapons.

 

“I want to do that!! Me!! ME! ME!” screamed Eri, thrusting her thumb repetitively into her own chest to enunciate her meaning. Kagome was fondly reminded of her two-year-old niece at the mini-temper tantrum her friend was throwing.

 

“Um…since when are you into racing?” Kagome asked, making the very unthreatening gesture of folded hands. Suddenly, Eri's tensed and strained body lessened entirely and seemed liable to melt into the floor.

 

“Oh!” she sighed, lost in reverie, “Since Fukashi Nakamura came along and dressed up in his tight racer outfit…and ran his fingers through his sexy hair on TV…” Kagome was quickly led to believe Eri's mind had wandered off and crash-landed onto another planet.

 

“Look, Eri, just take the story. I don't care about racing—I don't know a thing about it, really.” One day when she had thought about it, she realized the only real difference between Yuka and Eri was the pitch in their voice, and the fact that Eri often wanted to find people to give her what she wanted and Yuka was always looking for someone willing to let her take what she wanted. Those two desires didn't seem too different, but they were.

 

“Oh thank you Kagome!” Eri cried for the hundred millionth time since she and Kagome had met each other in grammar school. It wasn't long before the two of them were poring over Eri's unfolded pamphlet filled with countless tid-bits of “insider info” about the different Formula Nippon drivers…” They really should hold the opening race at Fuji Speedway…maybe they'll do it next year…”

 

 

 

ZOOM! Like a hurricane in fast-forward, the streak of red and black zipped past Kagome. The flames of her dark hair licked her face from the force rushing so close by, and she was forced to fight against her skirt to keep it down. There were a few men there, all of which she noticed wore sizable head phones with the team insignia whom she supposed were the “managers.” One of them gently pushed her back way from the track. “Don't get too close!” his voice screamed over the roar of the cars going by. She watched the vehicles dashing around the extensive black ring; they were covered in patch-works of company names—sponsors. Almost all of them were varying colors—Kagome quickly came to the realization that the “teams” were only represented by one or two drivers at the time and perhaps that was all they were made up of. “It's been a long time since I've seen that car out on a track,” the brown-haired man said, fighting the engine cries with his shouting. He said this as he motioned to the blood and night colored vehicle, over-coming the remaining in speed with its rabid attempt to tear up the road. “It falls below safety measures—and it's as old as the devil himself.”

 

“Yeah,” another agreed, also shouting, “only that crazy mother-fucker would drive it.” Kagome would have said something in Inuyasha's defense if they didn't laugh to indicate it was only harmless teasing.

 

“You see,” the first said, directly to Kagome, “I don't know if he told you, but he used to be with us.”

 

“Not anymore,” the second hollered through the noise, “he decided he was too good for us!”

 

“And for Formula 1 racing,” another added, approaching as he left a vehicle he had been tending to, “he's insane, a total nut job. I don't know anyone who'd turn their nose up at that. We're being nice—you know—he's not exactly affiliated with us anymore…but you know, he did win us a lot of races…gave us some really good PR.”

 

“He was pretty much the first hanyou to really get anywhere with racing—I guess he's not SO bad,” the first laughed, shaking his head. Kagome's hair and clothes were unsettled once more at the coming and passing of Inuyasha and his speed demon.

 

“How the hell does he make that rickety hunk-of-junk go so damn fast?” cried the third, somewhat unfamiliar with Inuyasha as he had joined the force only a little time before he had left.

 

“We're sort of not his…uh…'people' anymore, you could say—but everyone wanted us after he left because we got his ass off to Formula 1 which is pretty much unheard of in Formula Nippon… I guess we have him to thank for our careers…” the first continued to explain to Kagome, not heeding the third man's exclamation.

 

“Don't know why we kept that car,” said the second man, “I guess it was sort of one of a kind…” Kagome didn't know what else to do besides listen with an attentive ear, it was the first she heard of much detail of Inuyasha's racing career and past. “I don't remember him ever bringing any girls to the track—you're probably special to him,” he added after a considerable lack of dialogue only filled with the voices of the racecars. Kagome saw the men exchange grins.

 

“I don't remember him liking the fan girls that much—I started to think he was gay…he hated them…” the third interjected, looking on the verge of bursting into laughter once more.

 

“Him? Oh, right. Inuyasha's about the least gay thing in the world,” the first argued with an expert-like air. Kagome couldn't agree more.

 

 

The sweat swiveled as it ran down his forehead. If any of those idiots were still going on about how racing was easy—and not a real sport—he'd kick their sorry asses. The pressure squeezing you down to the inside was always creating a war between you and it. A racing car's steering wheel was always trying to free itself from your grip—trying to turn when you needed to go steady—like an unruly colt attempting to buck off its master. His body was somewhat thrashed, even as a hanyou; it took a toll on him after a while. But this was nothing compared to drag racing, in which the beast you rode could explode at any moment—swerve at the coming of any second (become obliterated if it hit the wall of the straight track hard enough)—or maybe accelerate a little too fast…

 

His body slumped back in the singular, centered seat, his head out of the cockpit. Drag racing may have its challenges, but F1 required you to go on driving for hours…and hours…and hours… F1, or Formula 1 racing, was like piloting airplanes of the earth. The vehicle he sat in, somewhat aged and passed between rookies during training, was put together by engineers who knew calculations that resembled those done by rocket scientists. Its body was long; it hardly looked like a car at all. It even had a cockpit, and it didn't encase him thoroughly inside itself. It hardly even felt like a car.

 

That may have been part of the reason that Inuyasha had finally been turned off to F1 racing. That was supposed to be his goal. As a hotheaded hanyou of sixteen demon years, he had witnessed the creation of cars as they exploded onto the scene. Quickly, they magnetized him, pulling him away from the field that had already been repelling him so profusely. Business, the corporations of the globe…those were Sesshomaru's bag. Cars began in countries that were over-coming Japan in places that didn't even exist in it yet; places that nations like America and Germany and England were getting to. At the birth of automobiles, Inuyasha was traveling the world with his half brother. “You are so ignorant, Inuyasha. Japan is extremely isolated. It shall not remain this way forever. We need to see the rest of this world—how it is stepping into a new age…if we want to strengthen the business and transform it into a corporation that we shall one day own,” Sesshomaru had told him.

 

Having explored much of the world, Inuyasha found little that interested him, until he encountered the “horseless chariot.” He had been one of the few people who saw it as more than that at the time. Within a few decades, racing was born; it would only be a matter of time, he had been sure, when it would come to Japan.

 

It did. In the form of Formula Nippon. After escaping his half brother and laying low for the longest time, Inuyasha had come face to face with the first great tragedy (since his mother's death) of his life when the first lover he had ever had tried to commit a homicide-suicide. After many years of recuperating and hiding, being broken and weak, he became too restless to stand it. Racing beckoned to him and he willfully returned its call. And immediately, his talent was recognized. The number of members that successfully transferred from Formula Nippon to Formula 1 racing dwindled, but unlike the majority, he was accepted graciously into what is considered to be the pinnacle of racing.

 

One of his advantages, ironically, was his hanyou blood. Being part demon, but not enough to be disqualified for having an extreme advantage, Formula Nippon eased up on their strict safety regulations and let Inuyasha do stunts. This made him a quick crowd favorite. “Two reasons the bastards don't care,” Inuyasha often said, “one: because I can heal most injuries in one day's time and two: if I ever tried to sue `em—being a hanyou I wouldn't have a change in fucking hell of winning.”

 

The drawn-out racing that stretched for hours and hours, the paranoia-induced restrictions and rules, the increasingly more airplane-like vehicles as opposed to automotive—had all weighed in on Inuyasha's patience and enjoyment of the sport. He was accepted into Formula 1, only to turn it down (so many of his colleagues were sure he had gone off the deep end). He had been aware that America offered more exciting forms of racing—with vehicles that were more car-like—that were more dangerous—run by companies that were employing people that weren't so damn particular about their honorifics (he had even heard that in America they didn't use honorifics at all, but he wasn't sure if he could believe at the time) for years. What kept him in Japan? Ages went by, spent struggling to cling on to the girl who had nearly destroyed him, but gradually he had recognized that the best he could do for her was break away.

 

He shifted aside the chrome strands of hair with his hand that stuck to his face with his perspiration acting as the adhesive. It was extraordinarily rare that Inuyasha ever rummaged through his memories. But then, a lot had changed, hadn't it? With that thought he then sensed something inside him that was greatly altered. His life had become a car race, after several seconds, everything that lead up to that moment was gone, you were just in that millisecond. All the hours of practice, deceased, all the past races lost and won, vanished. In the last few days this had happened, who he previously was seemed detached from now, in a race you never look back—only ahead to the finish line. In the past forty-eight hours or so he had witnessed more change in his life than he had in decades.

 

For the first time, in almost a century, he felt as if he had aged—matured. With the possibility of taking over the corporation looming, the loss of his virginity, the newly found insight into who Sesshomaru really was, insight into himself, and the huge portion of his life now encompassed by Kagome—someone who had been non-existent to him such a brief time ago, he had become something…more. Suddenly, he figured out it was the inclusion of something in his life that had never previously been there: trust.

 

He released himself from the vehicle, beginning to feel odd with only his head surfaced while the rest of his body was submerged in the car. Gratitude swelled within him because he had been in cars the majority of the day; it was always easier to think and feel in them. He felt a twinge of guilt at how he had made Kagome wait for him while he drove around the track for a grueling amount of time. He slid out of the vehicle and made his way through the light-deprived garage. The vastness of the space inside was astounding. Unfortunately, now that it had been several years, the memorization of the inside when he used to be a driver for Formula Nippon was moot. The layout was changed and so were the cars inside it.

 

After bumping into a few cars in the darkness, he felt a great relief spread through his gut when a heavenly light gushed into the black, illuminating from the eyes of his precious sun god. The brown eyes of his favorite raven-haired girl lit up along with the golden ones of his car—she beckoned to him seductively with one finger and a broad smile on her face. Inuyasha's clawed hand flew to the inside of his pocket. His keys were absent. How was it possible that such a sweet girl was such a good thief?

 

Kagome honked the horn, and Inuyasha could see her silently giggling playfully on the inside of his car. He winced slightly, resulting in frenzied apologetic motions from Kagome—she had apparently forgotten the sensitivity of his ears. The hanyou wondered why the hell he hadn't taken the stupid thing out of his car already. His scowl withered away as he spied Kagome's arms snaking to rest on top of the steering wheel, as she smiled enticingly at him. He couldn't help himself: he felt his body dashing toward the car. He pressed his nose and hands to the driver's window like a small child to the window of a candy store. “I can't believe you stole my keys!”

 

“Yeah, and if I didn't where would you be right now?” she retorted, her smile all the more beguiling.

 

“Walking into cars in the middle of this fucking dump.” There was a small pause as the both of them were trapped in each other's smiles.

 

“Get in here, I'm going to drive,” she stated mischievously with a provocative look his way. He laughed and opened his mouth to protest just when she made a rapid motion for him to back up. Relenting, he took a step back as the door swung upward. So she was giving him his way, as it should be.

 

“I'm no chauvinistic pig—women can have the better jobs, the same educations, whatever—but they just can't drive,” Inuyasha chuckled, shaking his head. Kagome's eyebrows went up.

 

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, one of her slender legs slithering out of the car. Soon enough, the rest of her body came with it. A puzzled expression on Inuyasha face matched her impish grin as she took a step closer to him. Her hands clenched his racing attire and before he could react, she had pulled him into the car with her. Later, he would swear over and over that if she hadn't distracted him, she would have never achieved what she did next. It wasn't fair, he would later claim, that she had appealing bare legs that she decided to clench at his sides, after she had gotten him laying on top of her. When she managed to grip him only with them and twist him beneath her he only had one though occupying his mind. What the hell? Does she take judo or some shit like that?

 

“Driving lesson number one: gearshift,” she said, hand smoothing against the “Xbox” emblem on his right pants leg.

 

“What are you doing?” he gasped, his mind scanning over the possibilities of his former crew walking in the garage at any moment.

 

“Putting you in reverse,” she whispered, clutching his “gear shift.”