InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Slip of the Tongue ❯ Barricade ( Chapter 2 )

Author's Note: I know what you're going to think. You're going to think, `OMG, they're going at it!' But they aren't. Not yet. At least not physically. But in Sesshomaru's (and Daisuke's) mind? Kagome is all sorts of violated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two - The Wicked Winding Streets of My World

Luck never gives; it only lends

—Swedish Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

Kagome fucking hated Fridays.

 

Miroku looked up at her from his seat in front of the laptop and tried to lift her scowl with a pleasant grin. She narrowed her eyes further in response. Miroku leaned back in the computer chair (the same chair she was so close to screwing off its hinges, two more good rounds of nauseating twirling and she'd have it!) and smiled a little wider. Kagome put her hands on her hips and frowned. Miroku twirled a pencil between his fingers. Kagome tapped her foot. Miroku hummed lightly.

 

Finally Kagome stomped angrily over to him and grabbed the pencil, breaking it over his head. “You're looking at porn on my computer, aren't you?!”

 

Miroku rubbed his head and blinked up at her, pulling on his innocent face, thinking of kicked puppies and poor, celibate schoolgirls to add to his outward show of sorrow. “Please, Kagome, would I really—?”

 

“Yes! You already have! Several times! I'm thinking of getting a parental block!”

 

Poor, celibate schoolgirls. With little schoolgirl skirts. Dancing. With each other. No man in sight. A tear formed in the corner of Miroku's eye as the hand on the mouse itched to close the browser screen. “Kagome, I wouldn't,” as soon as the words left his mouth she jumped around the desk, trying to get a good look at the screen, but Miroku stood and hugged it to his body, eyes wide, “No! Kagome don't! This material is inappropriate for one of such morals! You must stop!” Kagome tugged at his arms, yanked at his hair, and stomped on his feet, but the man only proceeded to bump her away with his hips.

 

“So you admit you're looking at porn!” Pushed back by his butt, Kagome took to the dodging technique, doing her best to shoot to his left and right in hopes that she could get a clear view of her screen

 

Miroku winced at his mix-up. But, really, what else was he supposed to do? “No! Absolutely not! It is merely a recipe, Kagome dear. I…I wish to surprise you. With an American dessert. Your favorite American dessert! I plan on printing out this recipe right here and making it for you. Because it is your favorite. Dessert. By America.”

 

Kagome backed off slowly, “Oh? So what is my favorite American dessert?”

 

“…Pie.”

 

Kagome nodded, smirking sadistically. “What kind of pie?”

 

Miroku look at her over his shoulder, brain working furiously. What were her favorites in America? He remembered her favorite red and white sheets, miniskirts, tennis shoes, video games, music artists, bottled water, and candy bar, but not pie. Think. Favorite pie. Lemon Meringue? Cherry? Blueberry? Mississippi Mud? Dancing Schoolgirls? He took a deep breath. Apple? Kagome's smirk widened to one of victory and Miroku took a shot in the dark. “Butterscotch, of course.” Her face faltered and Miroku beamed exultantly.

 

“Lucky guess.” Kagome turned and stomped off.

 

Miroku watched her go innocently, a leer adorning his lips after she turned a corner. He sat back down, sighing as his gaze turned to the computer screen once more. “Oh Miss Kyoto, you will always hold a special place in my heart (and by heart I mean libido).”

 

“Ah ha!” Miroku yelped as Kagome jumped up behind him, and he scrambled to close the webpage. Kagome smacked the back of his head soundly. “That's disgusting, Miroku! Are you really so desperate?” Miroku turned to her, wide-eyed. “I know you have special feelings for a certain someone, but still you're reduced to looking at cheap porn? Come on!”

 

Miroku stood and looked her in the eyes sagely. “Kagome dear, you obviously do not understand the workings of a man's mind. I could have five wives, ten mistresses, a harem, and even a little more action in addition to all that and still I would devote several hours every week or month to this glorious form of art.”

 

Her reaction was to shake her head and throw her hands in the air, mainly because not only was his retort expected, Kagome knew what he said was the truth. “That's pathetic. Honestly, Miroku, you and I have probably had about the same amount of sexual actions in our lives and you don't see me running off to pornography sites filled with sweaty males and—”

 

“Then what is this in the history? Man-on-man.com? Kagome! I'm shocked. You enjoy—”

 

Kagome screeched and lunged at him, knocking him from the chair and yanking the power cord out of her laptop. Miroku gazed up at her from the floor, disorientated, and she continued to mumble about the constant need to clear her damn history, then, “I was curious! But more than that it was Sango. I certainly don't get any sick pleasure out of watching two attractive men, sweaty, muscular, and all over—”

 

Miroku placed his hand soundly over her mouth, his eyes shut in disgust. “Kagome, for the sake of all my future…partners, please stop. I would hate to perform inadequately because of that…more than disturbing visual haunting me.” A muffled “You're visualizing it?” came from Kagome and Miroku immediately backed away from her, looking for all the world like she'd just told him he was the ugliest thing since fat, hairy men in kilts. “I am not trying to visualize anything, but my mind has now been scarred by—”

 

Kagome began walking away at this point, scratching her head distractedly. “Let's just forget this entire episode ever happened, okay?”

 

Miroku nodded, thankful. “You do realize you may have lost important material on your computer because you didn't shut it down properly, don't you?” She shrugged and flopped back on her couch, sinking into the soft suede with a tired expression. The face of perverseness filled her vision when Miroku leaned over the back of the couch, “Kagome dear, it is now seven.” Kagome blinked. “You have to be ready to leave at seven thirty.”

 

Instantly she groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. “I don't wanna,” she whined, rolling onto her side in the vain hope Miroku would go away and leave her alone. He only tsked though and placed a hand under her shoulders, lifting her up to a sitting position, lecturing about responsibility and the greater good and `do you remember that time…?'

 

Still grumbling, Kagome stumbled half-heartedly into her room, slamming the door behind her. It took all of two seconds for her to bury herself in the cool sheets of her bed, and for Miroku to call out, “Kagome! If you don't go on that date tonight then we can stay here and watch home movies from our college years!” She screeched and shot up, eyes wide in panic. “We can even invite Ikeda-san over! I'm sure he'd absolutely love to see the one with you all over that pair of twins we met—”

 

“Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up, Shut UP!” Kagome scooted off the bed, adding as an after-thought, “They weren't twins!” She whimpered and dragged herself towards her closet. “They were triplets…” She muttered, picking through her clothes absently.

 

“Heard that!”

 

“Dammit!”

 

Twenty-five minutes later found Kagome standing in front of Miroku with the intent to kill making her fingers twitch around the pair of black heels in her hands.

 

“I don't want to be here right now. Nope. Not even a little. How much do I want to be here? Not at all. I would rather be smooshed between a sweaty sumo wrestler and an old perverted smelly guy.” Kagome tapped her foot some more and fidgeted as Miroku eyed her choice of dress critically.

 

Finally he came to a decision, shaking his head. “No, no, that isn't right. You don't appear sluttish enough.” Kagome looked at him, horrified. Miroku stared back at her like she should just know why she needed to look cheap. Kagome's face crumbled a little more into appalled confusion and Miroku smiled sagaciously. “You're going on this date to confront the Yamamoto couple, right?” Kagome nodded numbly. “And, ideally, you would like to see the two remain married, correct?” Another nod. “Therefore, the looser you look, the more jealous and protective Mrs. Yamamoto will grow towards her husband and—”

 

Kagome smacked him with the pair of heels in her left hand, shaking her head. “Your logic is stupid and I don't like it.”

 

Miroku rubbed his cheek with a pout. “You are merely angry because you yourself did not think of my ingenious plan.”

 

“No, I'm angry because I have a depraved misogynist standing in my living room.”

 

He gasped in outrage. “I am not depraved! That's a terrible and completely false accusation.” It was silent for a few moments, Kagome glaring at Miroku and Miroku rubbing the bump on the side of his head with a few dejected whimpers when a knock came from the door. Miroku perked up and started for the entrance, but Kagome grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him back.

 

“No,” she hissed, “how do you think that will look? Daisuke coming to pick me up for our date and some strange man opening the door?”

 

Miroku studied her, entirely too calm and composed, “Well, certainly it won't look too bad seeing as you refuse to take my advice and dress up—or, rather, dress down your exterior.”

 

Kagome shook her head, face wholly composed, and walked away. “I hate you,” she grinned, her back facing him. Miroku replied with a lazy wave of his hand and assured her she wouldn't have any “special tea” left in her locked cabinet when she got back before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Kagome to face Daisuke. Alone. Be still my beating libido. Because it really wasn't her fault that Daisuke had really, really pretty green eyes and soft-looking brown hair and tanned skin and the forbidden appeal of a miserable, older, married man. After putting her shoes on Kagome stared at the door, her slight frown deepening when another quiet knock reached her. Here we go again…

 

Door opened, Kagome smiled pleasantly, “Good evening, Daisuke-san!”

 

Daisuke, not really ready for the manifestation of the woman of his dreams (um, literally, the last week or so had been full of her, his laundry would attest to this), almost tripped when he saw her cheery face. Although his immediate instinct was to jump her, he figured he could at least buy her dinner first. But later? Oh yes, much sexual mauling—ack, in a healthy, consensual way! Squashing a predatorial smirk (because, yeah, that would work), he bowed and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the elevator.

 

Kagome tried not to bolt when she realized their destination. It isn't a big deal; just don't touch the right wall. Kagome took a deep breath and nodded to herself. Next to her, after Daisuke had pushed the button, he began patting himself down, his brow furrowed. “What are you looking for?” She questioned politely, still internally cringing towards the shiny metal doors before her.

 

Daisuke double-checked himself, grunting, “It seems I've misplaced my wallet.” He checked one last time, then sighed, turning apologetic eyes to Kagome. “I'm very sorry, but do you think we could meet down at the lobby? I promise it will only take a minute.” Kagome nodded. Daisuke's smiled reappeared and he placed his hand on her shoulder, “I'll take the stairs really quickly, you just take the elevator, alright?”

 

Kagome panicked. “Why don't we just take the elevator together?”

 

Daisuke waved his hand, already turning to the stairwell. “The stairs will be faster.”

 

Kagome whimpered, tempted to tackle him and drag him into the elevator, but only slouched, her head dropping comically.

 

Which was about the time she saw it.

 

Where Daisuke had previously been standing was a single, foil-wrapped object. Kagome picked up the condom, twitching violently. The asshole thought she was going to sleep with him? …Holy fuck! That asshole thinks I'm going to sleep with him! He—I—ARG! The elevator in front of her binged and Kagome's head shot up. “Oh, come on.”

 

Of course it was Ikeda inside the elevator, staring back at her, and of course he couldn't help but notice the condom she held in her right hand like a torch. He smirked. “Either this is some form of joke or you knew I was going to be in this elevator and are attempting to seduce me.”

 

Kagome's head exploded.

 

But she sucked it up and stepped onto the elevator, shoving the condom in her purse, head held high. I will not lower myself to his level and insult him like a child. Nor will I—EWW! I touched the wall! Gross! She bounced away from the right side of the elevator and rubbed at her arm, wincing. Ikeda eyed her, then looked ahead, smirking, “Higurashi, did you know that women buy 4 out of every 10 condoms sold?”

 

Kagome turned stiffly to him, her eyes much wider than what might be considered healthy. “What…no, why do you know that?” Ikeda said nothing else, wondering to himself why the elevator had yet to move. He leaned forward to push the button for 2 floors below Kagome's, frowning minutely. Kagome watched him, then sniffed and crossed her arms, “Yeah, well, the average sexual encounter lasts about 39 minutes.” Sesshomaru looked at her, slowly, as the elevator finally began to move. Kagome looked back at him.

 

“And how do you know that?”

 

Kagome grumbled, “Miroku.” Deciding that she was now done talking to this asshole, she checked the progress of the elevator.

 

Half-way between the 15th floor and the Yamamoto's floor, Sesshomaru opened his mouth to say, “There are approximately 100 million acts of sexual intercourse everyday,” and the elevator froze—

 

Then lurched to a stop, throwing Kagome and Sesshomaru to the right.

 

The lights went out, and for a few minutes it was pitch black. Then the lights powered by the back-up generator kicked on, and a dim, flickering glow flooded the elevator. It was at this point that Kagome began breathing heavily. Sesshomaru stared down at her, his arms on either side of her head as he'd caught himself when they'd both tossed to the side. She appeared unhurt, but her eyes were screwed shut and she was beginning to mumble. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, trying to understand what she was saying.

 

“Gross-gross-gross-gross-gross-EW-gross-” Finally, her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him. Then, “Back up! Back up NOW, Ikeda! I need to move!” Sesshomaru just stared at her, confused as to why she was acting irrational—er, more irrational. He got his answer when she pushed him away and said, “NOW I HAVE TO BURN THIS OUTFIT! Damn you! I'm covered in old sex fluids! EW!” The minute he was far enough away Kagome took a step—or, rather, lunged, Sesshomaru thought amusedly—away from the wall, grimacing and wanting to wipe at her back but refusing to out of the fear that the cooties would get on her hands.

 

Finally she settled down, still scowling but wondering why the elevator had stopped. Sesshomaru was leaning on the opposite wall to her, his arms crossed, golden eyes glinting indifferently in the faint illumination. Kagome met his gaze with mild irritation, but rolled her eyes and sat down against the cool metal of the elevator door when he simply studied her wordlessly. “This is all your fault.”

 

Sesshomaru uncrossed his arms, hands falling into his pockets. “How so?”

 

Kagome ignored him, stretching her legs out, “At least with Miroku or Daisuke I could've enjoyed myself in here.”

 

“By participating in meaningless elevator sex?”

 

She snorted, “No, that's your department. I was merely an innocent victim of the truly horrifying events.” He muttered something that could've been taken for `I as well,' but Kagome didn't hear him clearly and didn't care enough to ask. Several minutes passed, and she figured that the power had shut down in the older building. “Don't you have a cell phone or something?” She finally asked, looking over at Sesshomaru.

 

“Not on me.” He looked over at the emergency phone button and reached out to touch it, but just as his finger brushed the surface the light that had been lessening for the past several minutes finally went out and stayed out. He glared into the unlit elevator when it unexpectedly made a long groan and both of them stopped breathing.

 

“Daisuke knows I'm in here,” her voice surprised him, and his head turned to where he thought she would be, “he'll tell them that I'm here. They'll know.”

 

Sesshomaru nodded although he knew she couldn't see him and slowly, carefully sat down, drawing one knee up as his eyes slowly adjusted. The lack of need for his demonic powers had made his instincts and abilities suffer, but dogs didn't have good eyesight, anyway. Ten minutes into the oppressive silence Kagome began to hum quietly, tapping her fingers on her knees and listening to her voice pierce the dark, bored. Sesshomaru opened his eyes languidly. Finally, dullness made Kagome ask, “Are dog demons colorblind?” towards where she assumed Sesshomaru to be.

 

He stared at her, though she couldn't tell, and didn't say anything.

 

Kagome leaned forward. “Ikeda?”

 

Nothing.

 

She shifted to her knees. “Ikeda-san?”

 

Sesshomaru smirked.

 

Kagome took a deep breath and crawled to her right a little, “Sesshomaru-san?”

 

Sesshomaru's head titled to the side as he watched her.

 

Kagome faltered, It isn't like he went anywhere, and he isn't hurt, and she glared, “Hey, dickhead, this isn't a game. I can't see anything in here.”

 

A few more minutes of silence and finally, “Did you just call I, Sesshomaru, a `dickhead'?”

 

She rolled her eyes and flopped back against the metal doors, a hand on her forehead. “Yeah, so?” Suddenly the dim lights wavered on again, and a crackling voice came over the emergency phone, assuring them that it was merely a power shortage and everything would be functional again soon. Kagome crossed her legs and stared at the wall opposite her, then sighed and, for something to do, settled on going through her purse. Miroku had been the one to stuff it full of stuff the last time she'd used it at some get-together they'd both been forced to attend and she hadn't bothered to clean it out. Gum, condom (Daisuke is not getting any, nope, not any at all), sticky note with `I.O.U.' written on it (I should ask Miroku about that), half a wooden pencil, a single, unwrapped Smartie, some weird piece of red cloth and—“Huh. So that's where my little black book went to,” she muttered, fingering through the worn pages with a small grin.

 

“You brought your black book with you on a date with another man?” Sesshomaru asked suddenly, surprising her.

 

Kagome blinked over at him, then pouted, “So? I didn't mean to…It wasn't even going to be a real date anyway.” She looked back at her book, reading off a few more names mentally, and her eyes lit up, I need to call him. He was fun.

 

Sesshomaru sometimes wished his curiosity were a person so he could punch it in its face. Unconsciously, he inched forward a little, his neck straining to try and read what she was reading. Kagome noticed and glared up at him. “What're you looking at?”

 

“I'm trying to figure out who the three poor sufferers are that you have in there; I plan on finding them suitable lawyers so that they may press charges.”

 

Kagome glared and threw her half a pencil at him, “Hey! I'll have you know that not only were they all consensual, they also had a good time with me…and there's a lot more than three.”

 

His eyebrow rose. “Oh? And how many poor men (and possibly women) did you molest?”

 

She sniffed and flipped to the back of the book, “Not that it's any of your business, but…according to the last entry—April 17th of this year—fifty-seven.”

 

Sesshomaru glared, “You are lying.”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes and tossed the book at him, “See for yourself.”

 

He started at the very beginning, eyes widening as he fingered through every page—each page, front and back, was filled with careful writing, next to each name a symbol like a lightening bolt or 3 stars was present, and there were no empty places except for the single page in the very back. His ego recoiled in shock. This book contains more names than my own… Not that this disaster would ever know that. Or anyone else, for that matter. He shook his head and flipped back to the front of the book, but stopped, squinting, sure he must've been seeing things. There, three down from the first entry, written clearly in her precise cursive, was the name Inuyasha Ikeda.

 

Kagome was watching his reaction, gauging and compiling a possible list of why he could be looking at her book like it had just done a strip tease for him. He either:

 

Was just pure surprised it contained any names at all.

 

Knew someone in it.

 

Read the name of his gay lover in it and was now on the verge of crying or killing, both of which would not suit Kagome. (If this one was the case then he was clearly just having sex with Mrs. Yamamoto to try and convince himself he wasn't gay, when, in fact, he was. Flaming. Or drugged.)

 

Was surprised because it contained more people than his own black book.

 

Was surprised because it contained more people than he knew. Or spoke with. Death threats notwithstanding.

 

He finally tore his gaze from his half-brother's name, his entire demeanor calculating as he studied Kagome. “How do you know Inuyasha?”

 

Kagome sniffed and caught the book when he tossed it back to her. “He's in here, isn't he? Obviously I've seen him naked. The asshole.”

 

“You do not like him?”

 

“Hell no. He—wait. How do you know him?” She looked at Sesshomaru and her mind superimposed a picture of Inuyasha over the full-demon's face, drawing lines between their last names. They're related, obviously. “Are you his father?”

 

Sesshomaru snorted and glared, his two favorite past-times, “No.”

 

“Cousins?”

 

“No.”

 

“Gay-lovers?” Okay, they look too alike to be anything else other than family, but still. How could she resist? He just blinked in response, clearly not pleased by her witty banter and charming looks. “Brothers?”

 

“Sadly, you are close.”

 

“Half-brothers.”

 

Sesshomaru sighed and leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator. “Regrettably.”

 

Kagome put a hand over her heart. “I feel for you, man.”

 

Sesshomaru's brow creased. “How do you know the abomination?”

 

Kagome twitched and rubbed her temple. “In my last year of high school I met him through a mutual friend that introduced us—who I never spoke to again, for obvious reasons—and we started hanging out. At some point I thought I was really…um…fond of him, and he found out, so we started a shaky and awkward dating type thing [here she winced at the complete lack of eloquence she possessed]. It ended bad.”

 

Mentally, Sesshomaru kicked his curiosity in the groin. “What happened?”

 

“Other than Inuyasha being his usual lovable self? Nothing. Not really. Well, actually, I met someone prettier than him in America and sent him an, um, rather blunt e-mail [she failed to mention the photo of the prettier guy she'd included in the e-mail, but in her defense he'd had green eyes. Green!]. We haven't spoken since.” Suddenly, she felt the urge to defend herself to Sesshomaru, so that she didn't seem like a total bitch, “But he was always calling me names, even after we started dating. I didn't like it. Before I left for America it made me feel weak, and due to my upbringing I wasn't ever really all that influenced to defend myself. After I arrived, though… Hff, that was all Miroku's fault.”

 

He stared at her, wondering why she decided to tell him, but also what happened in America. On the up side, he now had a little piece of information to lord over the moron the next time their father forced them to meet. “Inuyasha has always been an uncouth moron, but he became significantly worse his first year into college. I assume I have you to thank?”

 

Kagome winced and looked at him innocently. “Um. No? I mean…I think he was having sex with our math teacher in high school. You should blame her.”

 

The end of her sentence was punctuated with the main lights of the elevator kicking back on, the audible thrum of electricity re-entering the building, and the happy call of voices from all the different floors. The two stood up, but the elevator remained still. Kagome blew at her bangs, then lost all form of patience. Or sanity. “Dammit, move!” She jumped angrily, and the elevator plunged for two seconds, enough to send her and the youkai stumbling towards the right wall again. Kagome's back hit the defiled surface and she sighed, completely loosing faith in anything that would ever happen again. Sesshomaru landed almost exactly as he had before, arms to both sides of her head, his body engagingly close to her own—not that she cared, he noted with a displeased frown—and the doors opened to the 14th floor.

 

A small crowd of spectators met the pair's eyes, among them Daisuke and his wife.

 

Kagome slammed her head roughly against the elevator wall.

 

Fucktastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read-Between-The-Lines Sequence One:

 

Kagome: …

 

Sesshomaru: …

 

Kagome: Oh, come ON!

 

Sesshomaru: That's most likely what they think—

 

Kagome: You—Hff—You die!

 

Sesshomaru: Have you forgotten already? That was the last story. This is now. I live. You get naked.

 

 

 

 

Read-Between-The-Lines Sequence Two:

 

Daisuke: TRAITORS!

 

Kagome: You shut-up! I hate you! A condom? YOU DESERVE PAIN AND RABID BUNNIES!

 

Daisuke: Now, dear, you don't really mean—

 

Sesshomaru: *slams Daisuke's head between elevator doors*

 

Kagome: …?

 

Sesshomaru: Instinct.

 

 

 

Reviewer Responses:

a-single-spark.com—

 

Sidhe—They aren't so much `exploits' as `random acts of OH BABY'. They just don't realize it yet.

 

royalbk—Welcome to my world! To the left are random bouts of uncontrollable laughter; to the right is naked Sesshomaru. *is not ignoring the shameless promo* My interest is, um, interested! (Look, it's like, 4 in the morning. Don't expect poetry.) I'd have to sign up for a LJ first, but I'm probably already convinced. Information?

 

itachiiyoubastard—I'll make you a deal: if you review every chapter I'll respond every time. Cool?

 

Kanela—Shh! I'm not allowed to talk about it. Court order. (Economy is Satan wrapped up in evil dipped in poisonous chocolate.)

 

Irish Black Rosie—Your review is one of the most intelligent (and least delusional) reviews I've ever received. You get candy.

 

Silent Nox—Kagomes and whips are not good for Sesshomaru's chronic nosebleeds.

 

Pangoo—Religion? Okay, but only if we can have cookies after every service. And coffee. And hot priests.

 

ChaosWingDragon—Brilliant argument! Now, picture this: Miroku. Raised on Baywatch and Playboy.

 

lilmoe31—If we're giving all the hentais 15 minutes with Sesshomaru he isn't going to be free for, er, ever. `Cause they all are perverts. Even the married ones.

 

ElegantPaws—There's been sexiness in this story thus far? Because all Kagome has been gifted with has been disgust and cooties.

 

Tana-san—I love you. The last person to call me `upscale' was on drugs. I'm most commonly referred to as `insane', `childish', and `don't you dare throw any more god-damned eggs at me!' Which is especially fun because I've graduated from college.

 

Something-or-Other— Can you move in, like, Wednesday? I have candy.

 

 

 

 

 

Adultfanfiction.net—

 

Kero—Mrs. Yamamoto is an old friend of Kagome's. But you won't know whom just yet. Oh, and your review made me double-check to make sure we were reading the same story. Thank-you so much. Some of my co-workers aren't so pleased but with my suddenly inflated ego, but hey! I deserve more air than them.

 

rowdygirl—Rhiannonofthemoon and I are so close we have our own wavelength. It's scary sometimes. But my story; it makes you feel like you've been drinking? Then I guess I should say: Don't read and drive. But I won't.

 

Naomi—No dinner. And Kagome is still hungry. But the doors have definitely opened!

 

 

 

To all my other reviewers: Thank-you. But it's 4:15 AM now and I can't offer any wisecracks. Get back to me. I owe you guys.