InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Strictly Off The Record ❯ Chapter II ( Chapter 2 )

STRICTLY OFF THE RECORD

An Inuyasha Fanfiction by dolphingirl0113

Chapter II

 

 

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F.A.Q.

 

~Why did you choose to place the story in New York City and not Tokyo? Should the characters thus be viewed as American as opposed to Japanese?~

 

There is a very specific reason I chose to set the story in the United States rather than Japan. Some of that will be explained in this chapter, but I'll also state that I needed Kagome and her family to live far away from Inuyasha in order for this to work. And that's all I dare say on that part of the question without giving too much away. And as for the other part, Kagome should be viewed as a born and bred American in many ways with Japanese roots, while Inuyasha...well...you can make up your mind about him. And the other supporting characters will be primarily American personalities as well.

 

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

“Hey Sango, what time is it?” Kagome called from the small storage room located in the back of the bookstore. She heard her friend move around in the main part of the store, trying to get a good view of the clock, before she replied.

 

“It's about 10:30. You've got plenty of time.”

 

“Only if Miroku is late as usual,” Kagome called back with a laugh before making the final adjustments to her ornate costume. It was Saturday morning, and like most places in New York City, the Higurashi Bookstore didn't open until noon since most tourists weren't out in droves until later. But the tradeoff was it remained open until midnight.

 

As Kagome liked to put it, the statement that New York was the city that never slept was false; people did sleep...just not when the rest of the world did. Or, at least, that was true of the tourists and anyone, like herself, who ran a store on Fifth Avenue.

 

Stepping out into the main area, noting how dark it was with the curtains drawn over the windows so that the only light provided was by the antique lamps atop the bookshelves, Kagome took in the familiar scent of paper as she inhaled long and slow. It was a smell that had become like home to her; and surrounded by her precious books in a bookstore all her own never failed to inject an unending source of pride and joy through her veins.

 

“Wow,” Sango commented from where she was wiping down the front counter. “That is an impressive piece you're wearing, Kagome.”

 

Blushing and glancing down at the ancient uniform of a Japanese holy priestess that had been presented to her only two years earlier by her family, Kagome tried her best not to shy away. “It's kind of overkill, in my opinion, but mama insisted I had to take a picture in the new store so she can put it up in the shrine.”

 

Sango chuckled and put down the rag she'd been using to instead grab a high-tech digital camera currently protected in a black leather case. “I don't recall you getting all dressed up at the two other locations the store's had.”

 

“The other two locations weren't on Fifth Avenue, Sango. You can't deny what a big deal it is. I mean, I've been in this location now for four months and I still can't believe it sometimes myself.”

 

“Well it certainly hasn't hurt your business any,” the brunette admitted as she carefully pulled the camera from its case and examined it for any possible damage. As someone who loved recreational photography, the camera was Sango's pride and joy, and she treated it as delicately and kindly as she would a living person.

 

“That's the truth,” Kagome chuckled and looked around. She'd certainly come a long way from the tiny little one-room space that had first housed her books over three years ago. And with each successive move, her customer count had increased so that now she could barely keep up with the demand. It was an absolute dream come true.

 

“Okay, so where do you want to be for this picture?” Sango finally asked. “Do you want to chance going outside?”

 

“Oh heavens no! I don't even want to think about all the curious stares I'd get for going out in this.” Kagome indicated her costume again.

 

“Then where?”

 

“Um...how about we open the front windows and I can pose by the counter.”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

With a nod Kagome moved into position by the desk, Sango helping her to stand in a way such that none of the clunky technology on the counter was visible. But just before they took the picture, Kagome remembered her bow and arrows, and was forced to leave Sango marking her position while she dashed into the back room to retrieve the sacred artifacts.

 

They remained exactly where she'd left them when she'd arrived that morning, the soft wood of the bow familiar in her hands and bringing her a sense of peace as she ran the tips of her fingers over the bowstring to make sure it was good and taut and not about to come loose. Satisfied that all was still well, Kagome then took a moment to inspect the quiver full of arrows, assuring herself that all the tips were secure on the shafts.

 

It was ridiculous, really, to be doing such a thing since all she'd be doing was posing for a picture, but Kagome found that old habits didn't leave easily, and just as she'd been trained as a child, she carefully made sure that her weapons of choice would be ready should the need arise.

 

And then as the thought sunk in Kagome couldn't resist a laugh. Her weapons of choice? Should the need arise?

 

“You're in the middle of New York City, Kagome,” she grumbled to herself as she awkwardly rose to her feet and slung the quiver over her back, the bow in her left hand. “Who are you expecting to shoot? A robber?” She laughed again as she pictured trying to explain to the NYPD why their criminal had simply vanished into thin air, her imaginary self going so far as to even detail the properties and uses of a sacred arrow.

 

This time Sango's eyes widened considerably as Kagome appeared once more. “Are you expecting a battle?”

 

Kagome just rolled her eyes. “Haven't I worn this for you before?”

 

“Actually you haven't. I mean, I knew you grew up in a shrine, but still...I didn't know you and your family were this hardcore about it.”

 

“So what if we are?” Kagome became slightly snappish. “My grandfather brought all the old ways with him from Japan when he immigrated here with my grandmother, even going so far as to build an exact replica of the shrine he'd lived in as a boy.” Kagome smiled softly as she thought about the Higurashi Shrine that was located in the lush countryside of the state of New York.

 

Initially her grandfather had meant to become a farmer, and building the shrine had taken him almost twenty years to complete anyway. But when it had become a small haven for tourists who wanted a taste of Japanese culture without having to buy the expensive plane ticket, he'd realized he could easily go back to living the way he always had before he'd immigrated, and so now the shrine was an official tourist stop, supported by the government, and the money the Higurashi family kept was plenty to keep them happy.

 

Before she'd left for college, Kagome had worked at the shrine alongside her grandfather, training in the old ways of a holy woman in everything from ancient healing methods to wielding the sacred arrows of a priestess. It hadn't been practical, by any means, but Kagome had found she enjoyed it, so while her younger brother Souta had disappointed her grandfather by showing no interest in his roots whatsoever, Kagome had more than made up for it.

 

Now the money she made as a bookseller partially went back to the shrine since she was no longer there to help run it, and in turn her family helped her pay the bills acquired from living in an expensive city like New York.

 

“Well are you ready?” Sango finally asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright, just stand here. Good.” Sango aimed her camera and took a few pictures, then acquired a thoughtful expression. “So do you know how to aim those things?” She indicated the quiver of arrows.

 

“Of course I do. Why?”

 

“Maybe you could pose with a bow and arrow then. It would be a fun shot, I think. I mean, we may as well go all out, right?”

 

Kagome shrugged, trying not to think about all the people who might be staring through the now-exposed windows. She hated being so self-conscious, but for some reason the pride she took in her roots at home seemed silly when in the big city surrounded by modern conveniences and worldly men and women who had probably traveled the world more than she ever would.

 

Taking an arrow from her quiver and running her fingers over the feathers at the end of the shaft momentarily, Kagome quickly and expertly notched it into her bow and pulled the string taut, hearing the wood of the bow groan slightly under the sudden tension. Carefully she aimed for a spot just above the second floor that was free of bookshelves or pictures, so that if she was startled and accidentally released the arrow she could be assured she wouldn't hit anything valuable.

 

It had been years since she'd actually held the bow at the ready, and Kagome could feel it in the burning of her arms as she struggled valiantly to hold her position. She needed to start hitting the weights again. “Take the picture, Sango,” she managed to hiss urgently as she felt her fingers begin to tremble.

 

Yup, definitely would be making an appointment with a personal trainer later that day.

 

A few clicks of the camera later Kagome gratefully lowered the bow and released the tension in the bowstring, her arms suddenly feeling like flimsy rubber as they hung off her body.

 

Glancing at the preview screen on her camera, Sango grinned proudly. “Those are some real beauties. I think we should keep one or two here to put up at the counter. It could be fun, you know?”

 

Taking a few deep breaths, Kagome felt her heart rate returning to normal as the burning in her arms also worked its way out of her system. “Kind of random to have in a bookstore, don't you think?”

 

“Not really. I mean, it's a bookstore. Anything goes in here, right? After all, you sell nothing but stories people have taken out of pure fiction.”

 

Kagome chuckled. “I sell non-fiction too, you know.”

 

Sango smiled and then looked at the bow now resting against Kagome's thigh. She indicated it with a nod of her head. “Can I see that thing?”

 

“Sure. But be careful; it's kind of an antique.”

 

“Really? How old?”

 

“I think grandpa said it was something like forty or fifty years old. I can't remember for sure. It belonged to a great aunt of mine who was also trained as a priestess...though she had more use for such training since she actually lived in Japan.”

 

Sango fingered the polished wood reverently, in awe of something that had no doubt seen many things it would never speak of. “So what happened to this great aunt of yours then? Did she move to America with your grandfather and grandmother and just have no need of it any more?”

 

“No, she wasn't actually related to grandpa. She was the older sister of my grandmother, and grandpa admits that he never actually met her. She stayed in Japan while grandma eventually moved to America to marry grandpa. Kind of a sad story, really.”

 

“How so?”

 

Kagome took the bow back gently as she continued speaking, absently running her thumbs over the tip. “Well, grandma's sister was apparently in love with some man who didn't want to leave Japan or something like that, so she stayed with him instead of going with her family. That was at the end of World War II, when Japan fell on hard times.” Kagome shrugged. “I can't really remember all the details, but somewhere along the way my great aunt got involved with some dangerous men...though I don't know if that was intentional or by accident. Either way she was killed; her few possessions were sent to my grandmother, who was utterly devastated by the news. They say grandma was never quite the same again.”

 

Sango looked at Kagome for several minutes in silence before speaking. “Wow. That's quite a story.”

 

“Yeah...but it always manages to ruin a perfectly good day. I'm sorry for turning all morbid and depressing.”

 

The brunette just chuckled and waved her hand to cast the comment away. “Please, I asked, so it's hardly your fault. Besides, I find it all fascinating. We definitely need to talk more about it sometime.”

 

The grandfather clock on the upper floor chimed eleven times, and Kagome jolted back to reality as she realized how late it already was. Miroku and his friend, the famous Inuyasha Yamamoto, would be arriving any minute! And she would not greet a celebrity dressed in an antique priestess uniform.

 

“I've got to go change, Sango,” she spoke in a rush as she collected her quiver and bow. “Watch for them until I get back, okay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

But just as Kagome started to move towards the back room again, the sound of the door opening could be heard, followed by Miroku's voice. “Sango! I didn't know you would be here! And Kagome, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

 

Not wanting to seem rude, especially knowing that Inuyasha Yamamoto was probably already there and watching her every move, Kagome decided she may as well just face the music. Shouldering her bow and making sure the quiver was tight on her back, she turned with a fierce blush on her cheeks, knowing she must look like she was getting ready to go to a ridiculous costume party.

 

A fine way to impress a famous reporter, indeed!

 

Taking a few steps forward, she gave Miroku a bright smile. “You're actually on time today!”

 

“Should I be offended by that?”

 

“Maybe.” Kagome glanced over his shoulder, but noted that Miroku appeared to be alone. “Did your friend decide not to come after all?”

 

“What?” Miroku also glanced over his shoulder. “No...he's here. I don't know why he didn't come in, actually. He was right behind me a second ago.” Turning around, Miroku went back out the door and immediately spotted Inuyasha rooted to a spot on the sidewalk in front of the windows of the bookstore where he had a perfect view inside.

 

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. And yet...the woman who had been standing in the store, dressed in those robes that were so familiar to him...

 

“Inuyasha, what on earth are you doing out here?” Miroku interrupted his thoughts, causing the hanyou to blink and come back to reality. “Are you still trying to get out of this assignment? You know that's not an option at this point, so you may as well suck it up and come in with me.”

 

“Right...” Inuyasha felt like he was walking through a fog as he allowed Miroku to open the door and gesture for him to step into the store. And then he saw her again, and it was as though time had stopped, sending him back over fifty years.

 

His heart ached as he saw a young woman freeze and stare at him with just as much fascination as he was showing her. But he was not seeing her. He was seeing a woman with a painfully similar face, her scent that of sakura blossoms, her warm, chocolate brown eyes always clouded with a slight shadow of pain and regret. How he had always tried to wipe that pain from her eyes!

 

The woman moved, taking a few steps toward him, her hips swaying subtly while the arrows in her quiver shifted and made soft noises of impact, and the modern bookstore faded around him so that Inuyasha was instead standing in a familiar forest he had not seen in over fifty years, a stunning priestess walking towards him with a kind smile on her face.

 

“Kikyou?” He whispered aloud, hardly daring to believe what his eyes were seeing.

 

She blinked in confusion, and then a new voice, an unfamiliar voice, shattered the dream. “What did you just call me?”

 

Inuyasha blinked and stepped back several feet so that he nearly ran into the door. How could he have been so stupid? Kikyou was dead! The woman before him had a face that was slightly rounder, and her eyes were a cobalt blue, not brown. Her hair was much shorter, thicker, fuller, and her scent was not that of sakura blossoms, but rather that of vanilla laced with some kind of foreign spice.

 

She blinked again and moved closer. “Are you alright?”

 

Embarrassed by his behavior, Inuyasha immediately straightened his spine and haughtily raised his chin into the air. “Keh, of course I'm alright, woman! Why would you ask such a stupid question?”

 

Kagome blinked a few more times as her brain tried to process everything that had just happened. First the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen had walked into her store and totally mesmerized her, and then he'd called her by the name of her great aunt and subsequently retreated as though he'd seen a ghost, and now he was insulting her. She could hardly keep up!

 

But once she did figure it all out, her own temper kicked in. “It's hardly a stupid question when you're staring at me and everything around you like you're expecting a ghost to stop by at any moment,” she snapped. “And while we're at it, would you care to explain why you called me Kikyou?”

 

He growled at her. “That's hardly your business.”

 

“It's definitely my business when strangers start mistaking me for an aunt who's been dead for a long time.”

 

“Your aunt...?” Inuyasha took another, closer look at the woman before him, and it all started to make sense. Why she looked like Kikyou, but didn't either. She must be one of the descendents of Kaede, Kikyou's younger sister. In all honesty, Inuyasha had completely forgotten they had all immigrated to America all those years ago.

 

“Yes my aunt! And you're staring at me strangely again! Don't do that!”

 

“Will you stop yelling, wench? What did I ever do to you?”

 

“You successfully freaked me out, that's what you did. And you so did not just call me a wench, baka!”

 

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes. “I'll call you whatever I want, woman, especially when you're yelling so loud!”

 

“I'm hardly yelling at all, you super-sensitive jerk.”

 

Resisting the urge to growl more ferociously, Inuyasha had to remind himself that he was wearing his concealing charm, meaning she couldn't see his hanyou ears and understand why it didn't take much to have the world seem like it was yelling at him. Instead, all he did was grunt and march around her to where Miroku was casually flirting with a brunette.

 

“So Miroku, where the hell is this woman you said owns the bookstore? Is this her?” He indicated Sango, who glared back at him for his curt tone.

 

“My name is Sango Obayashi, Mr. Yamamoto, and no, I am not the owner of the bookstore.”

 

“You're not?” Suddenly Inuyasha had a growing sense of trepidation in the pit of his stomach.

 

Miroku coughed nervously and tried to lighten the mood with a little laughter. It didn't work, and in the end he apparently gave up as he instead placed his hands on Inuyasha's shoulders and turned him around to look once more at the woman dressed in the priestess robes. “Inuyasha, I'd like you to meet my very good friend Kagome Higurashi. Kagome...this is Inuyasha Yamamoto, the, uh, world famous reporter you said you admired so much.”

 

The hanyou actually had to resist the urge to gulp in fear as the woman called Kagome continued to glare fiercely in his direction. She narrowed her eyes. “Obviously the respect was a little premature.” And with that she swept past both men and disappeared into the back room to change out of her ceremonial uniform.

 

“Oh dear,” Miroku sighed.

 

“Oh hell no!” Inuyasha exclaimed at the same time. “Screw Sesshoumaru...I'm out of here.”

 

Miroku grabbed his arm to stop him. “I don't think that would be wise, Inuyasha. You know what happens if you don't do this.” He was trying to be as cryptic as possible with Sango behind him, but he could already feel her eyes boring into his back.

 

“Keh, if you think I'm going to...” But he trailed off as Kagome reappeared, having changed into a pair of jeans and a knee-length white turtleneck sweater. She'd removed the ribbon from her hair and was now moving a brush through the thick ebony curls she had pulled over one shoulder. In those modern clothes the differences between her and Kikyou were even more apparent, and Inuyasha wondered again how he could have been so stupid as to react the way he had initially.

 

Glancing up, her dark eyes meeting his, she frowned. “You're still here?”

 

“Keh!” He glared back, not willing to be intimidated by a woman.

 

“So Inuyasha,” Miroku exclaimed in a falsely cheerful voice, “I was telling Kagome yesterday on the phone how you were hoping to take her out to lunch and talk about the art of writing, seeing how you're both interested in the craft. Do you remember?”

 

Sighing and praying for patience, Inuyasha continued to glare at the woman as he replied to Miroku's question. “Maybe.”

 

“Excellent!” Miroku nudged his friend in the side to get him to continue.

 

“Miroku tells me you hope to become a novelist some day,” Inuyasha tried again.

 

Staring back at him warily, Kagome nodded. “That's right, though I don't know why you'd want to talk to me. Your kind of writing is entirely different from what I'd like to do.”

 

The hanyou shrugged. “Writing is writing, woman. And besides, I've learned how to interact with the best in the world. I could show you the ropes. I'm an expert.”

 

Kagome raised an eyebrow haughtily in response to his arrogant tone, an image of an ape beating his chest coming to mind. “And I suppose this expertise is what landed you on the third page of the New York Times a few days ago?”

 

Never having met a woman who didn't fall for his arrogant, I-own-the-world attitude before, Inuyasha was momentarily stunned into silence. Obviously he'd have to pull out all the stops from the start with this one.

 

Forcing a smile and giving her one of his infamously sexy, smoldering looks, he took a step forward. “You shouldn't believe everything printed in newspapers, Ms. Higurashi.”

 

She seemed unfazed by his looks. “I don't, Mr. Yamamoto. But you obviously did something seriously wrong to wind up in court and in the newspaper.”

 

“Will you at least let me explain my side of the story?”

 

“I'm usually a fair woman.”

 

“Good. Let's do lunch at the little deli two blocks over.”

 

Kagome blinked. “Excuse me?”

 

“I said, let's do lunch at...”

 

“I heard what you said,” she interrupted haughtily, her eyes flaming with indignant fury. “But I don't believe I ever agreed to have lunch with you because you never asked.”

 

“I never...?” What the hell was her problem? Most women would kill to spend an afternoon exclusively with him! He sent a glare in Miroku's direction to show how angry he was at the fact that his friend had managed to pick the one woman who was apparently a spinster in a woman's body and couldn't read his signals worth a damn. “Fine, wench. Will you have lunch with me?”

 

She narrowed her eyes again and walked up until she was standing a few inches from his body, her face tilted up so she could meet his gaze steadily. “No.” And then she was walking around him and out the door, leaving Inuyasha so stunned he could do nothing more than gape as the door crashed behind her.

 

Miroku just sighed again and put his head in his hands. “Oh dear.”

 

“You arrogant, pig-headed jerk!” Sango exclaimed from where she was standing behind the counter. Stomping around, she gave Inuyasha a powerful whack to his shoulder before proceeding to follow Kagome out the door in hopes of calming her down.

 

Once both women were gone Inuyasha suddenly found his speech again, and he whirled on Miroku. “That's the perfect woman for this job? Are you kidding me?”

 

“It wasn't supposed to be easy for you, my friend.” Why did Miroku feel like he was saying that a lot lately?

 

“Easy? Hell, she's not even going to be difficult...she's going to be impossible! Did you hear her?” Inuyasha raised his voice into a high-pitched squeal and clasped his hands. “You didn't ask me to go to lunch!” He glowered and lowered his voice once more. “What a bunch of bullshit.”

 

Miroku massaged his temples in exasperation. “You weren't exactly easy, Inuyasha. In fact, I think you were worse than usual...once you got over that weird introduction. What was up with that anyway?”

 

The hanyou's amber eyes softened and acquired a far-off look. “When I first saw her dressed in that outfit, I could have sworn I was looking at Kikyou.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.” He grimaced and frowned once more. “But then she opened that sassy mouth of hers, and I knew she was nothing like Kikyou.”

 

“You're not exactly one to talk about sassy mouths, Inuyasha. You're worse than she is.”

 

“Keh! Could have fooled me!”

 

Miroku shrugged. “You just caught her on a bad day. Or you put her in a bad mood. Or something. Somehow I suspect it's your fault.”

 

“Keh!”

 

Miroku paused thoughtfully. “By the way, what did she mean about you calling her by her aunt's name? That would certainly be a coincidence that she has a relative named Kikyou.”

 

“It's no coincidence,” Inuyasha murmured. “Or, at least, I don't think it is. Kikyou had a younger sister, Kaede, who immigrated to the United States at the age of sixteen and married a young man with the last name of Higurashi. That was about the time Kikyou...” He swallowed hard. “Well, suffice it to say I wasn't really thinking about distant relatives at that point.”

 

“Wow.” Miroku released a long whistle of appreciation. “Makes you almost believe in fate, doesn't it?”

 

“Yeah, well if fate has a hand in this than I want no part of it.” He turned his glare on Miroku. “And I want no part of her. I refuse to run around on some pretend courtship with a woman who is probably something along the lines of Kikyou's grand-niece. That's just weird.” He choked on his words. “And cruel.”

 

Seeing his friend in true distress for once, Miroku took a step forward and placed a heavy hand on Inuyasha's shoulder. “Come on, Inuyasha, just give it a try. I think you'd really like Kagome if you gave her a chance.”

 

The hanyou grunted and turned away. “I don't want to give her a chance, Miroku. I don't want anything to do with that family. Hell, I don't want anything to do with women.”

 

“Now that's something I'll never understand. Women are wonderful.”

 

“Says the man who wasn't forced to watch the woman he thought to be his true mate murdered before his very eyes.” Inuyasha closed his eyes tightly to block out the sound of her screams and the sight of her brown eyes going wide in shock as she realized the amulet he'd offered would not protect her as he'd promised it would.

 

“Inuyasha?” She looked at him in innocent confusion, her expression tearing at his insides.

 

“Kikyou!” All he could do was scream in agony as he watched her fall to her knees, blood staining her white blouse, her beautiful brown eyes going dim as the life slowly left her body through the gaping bullet wounds in her chest and abdomen. “KIKYOU!”

 

“Inuyasha? Hey...are you alright?”

 

“Kikyou...” The hanyou shook his head and focused on Miroku's intense violet eyes, struggling to bring his mind back into the present. The pain in his eyes floored his friend. “It's been fifty years, Miroku. And I still can't get her screams out of my head.”

 

“Her death wasn't your fault, you know.”

 

Inuyasha shook his head. “Yes it was. I swore to her that amulet would protect her. Because of that, she wasn't as prepared to defend herself.” He hung his head shamefully. “If it weren't for me, she'd still be alive now.”

 

“Perhaps.” Miroku leaned heavily against the ornate front counter. “Perhaps not. Remember, Inuyasha, that Kikyou was involved with some very dangerous people. It might have only been a matter of time before she was finally killed.”

 

“Maybe...” But Inuyasha still hated the idea that Kikyou had died feeling betrayed. That was his doing entirely.

 

Glancing over at some of the pictures on the counter, he saw Kagome Higurashi smiling back at him with what he assumed to be her family, and Inuyasha felt something in his gut clench. He had allowed Kikyou to die due to his own folly...and now Miroku was asking him to lie to one of her descendants, a woman with Kikyou's open, honest face and kind smile.

 

Was his journalism career really worth the pain all this would pull out of the distant corners of his heart that were better left alone?

 

But then he thought about the way Kagome had spoken to him, how rude she'd been, and Inuyasha felt a little of his usual arrogant spark return. To hell with her. She wasn't Kikyou, and he owed her nothing. She was just a means to an end.

 

And he would keep telling himself that every time he saw Kikyou's face in his mind with a disapproving scowl marring her otherwise perfect features.