InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Art of Tea - ON HOLD ❯ The Art of Tea - Chapter 5 - Bubble Tea ( Chapter 5 )

 

DISCLAIMER - The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.

 

 

By: ElegantPaws

 

Edited by: Meara the Celt

 

Chapter Five is dedicated to Sugar0o, who is writing my current favourite of hers Do You Know How to Dance? and has gifted this story with stunning artwork, shared in the previous chapter. She really is a dab hand at drawing women appreciatively. She does feminine well. Check both her stories and artwork out and maybe you can convince her to write more often (chuckle). Lazy, gifted little thing ;p

 

Jean-Paul Reopelle is an abstract expressionist, fond of colour and splotches.

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

Chapter Five - Bubble Tea

 

“There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea.”

 

--- Bernard-Paul Heroux---

 

~~~~TAoT~~~~

 

And it was with a jaundiced eye that one Lord Sesshoumaru, late of the Sengoku Jidai, wondered dispassionately why humans, as a general rule, were not kept on a rather short leash.

 

The mere fact that they were allowed to go about freely spreading all manner of desolation on the Earth, and more to the point, on him, did not sit well.

 

No, they should have been done away with eons before.

 

Take, for example, the fishwife who had removed her helmet and whose eyes were currently distended markedly from their sockets; nary a blink to moisten the uncomely orbs which moments ago had the definite aspect of a slavering mutt who had finally spotted a desirable bone on which to gnaw with gusto.

 

As to the other female harridan in his midst, her large, gentle, expressive brown eyes were suitably horrified as her mouth worked like a fish whose gills had come a cropper.

 

Sesshoumaru could almost feel sorry for the petite, curvy wench with the pleasing scent and formidable cleavage, reminiscent of ripe peaches…but didn't. Her breasts were blushing at him rather immodestly at the moment, one snap having come undone on her shirt, leaving little to his imagination.

 

Peeling his eyes away from her heaving bosoms, Sesshoumaru took stock of his current situation in detail.

 

The shirt was definitely ruined, though the paint was soy based; the less said of his trousers the better and the Italian leather espadrilles were impossible to save.

 

“Mister Taishou?” was the quiet, querulous whisper as Kagome stepped forward, bucket still in hand.

 

“Stay away from me,” Sesshoumaru said through clenched teeth. “You've done quite enough, Miss Higurashi.”

 

She had managed to soak her own white runners through but appeared not to have noticed as her eyes took in the full damage with a far-off dazed expression, now that the initial shock had passed. It took her a moment to draw her eyes from his chest to speak, refusing to meet his frigid gaze.

 

“I'm sooo soooooo sorry, I-I…I'll make it better. I promise. Please, I never meant…come inside.”

 

At least she was suitably aghast at her unintentional crimes against his youkai. It didn't explain the speculative and furtive glances she was giving his body though.

 

An unlady-like snort broke the silence, coming from the fishwife's quarter.

 

“White linen is over-rated anyway, Kagome. Stop apologizing to him, already. He almost ran me over in case you didn't notice!” Sango said with no small amount of pique as she glared at her friend awaiting a response.

 

Kagome was far too busy at the moment enjoying the flow of color hues over a broad expanse of chest and tapered masculine waistline.

 

She sighed aloud and blinked in disbelief. He was the stuff of exceedingly moist dreams. Shame about him being a stuck up bastard, though, it kind of colored things, and she suddenly felt for the women in his life. Nothing so eerily beautiful should wear a scowl as a matter of course. Her heart tightened in her chest at the thought, refusing to wonder if it was the smile, or the thought of other women.

 

Even the tailored, casual trousers, sodden though they were, left very little to the imagination; he was perfect.

 

Kagome had come across many an attractive male in her time, but few held a candle to this being standing, albeit in a rainbow-hued puddle, while attempting to maintain his dignity. How to make this right?

 

Sango had said something, hadn't she? Kagome wondered as she tried unsuccessfully to peel her eyes away from his torso and sundry, willing her eyes to stay above his belt's horizon. She did, after all, despise the ground the man walked on.

 

When had the morning become so warm, exactly? She could feel beads of sweet running down her back, making her shimmy, her hips gently swaying provocatively as she rolled her neck, meeting his eyes for the first time. The vein at the base of her neck pulsed.

 

Sesshoumaru's right brow raised an eighth of an inch, having sensed the shift in the woman's demeanor, from horror to something secretively intimate in her gaze and deportment. Despite the sticky, cool, tinctures assailing his youkai currently, he felt unaccountably warm under her speculative, shy gaze. What remained intriguing to his mind was that she was entirely unaware she was giving off very distinct signals of interest; curious.

 

This, of course, was not lost on Sango.

 

Kagome had yet to say a word to her, much less look in her direction. She could tell his type from a mile away and hated him on sight. It didn't bode well that her friend since childhood was staring at him like a doe in season. As for him, he was trying to maintain his cool, but his nostrils were beginning to flare; definite interest. How could he help it? Kagome would never actually acknowledge it, but she wasn't exactly forgettable with all those curves and devil may care attitude. Just the type of woman his type would want. Sango's gut turned unexpectedly, not recognizing this new emotion…jealousy. No one had ever looked at her like that.

 

Clearly, Kago wasn't thinking with any part of her brain at the moment and it was up to her to put a stop to this flirtation. Sure as Kami made little green apples, these two were definitely sniffing each other; it was almost primal the heat that was rising between them.

 

“Indecent! Why don't you both just get on with it?” Sango snapped, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the tall, silver-haired male. At least she had the satisfaction of finally getting both their attention.

 

Sango hadn't been the only observer; there was at least one other person in the car after all.

 

A male, wearing a dark pullover the colour of deep purple, uncoiled himself from the passenger seat, his lithe, deft movements causing Sango to gulp.

 

He had dark hair, was fair of skin and had the most playful, lascivious violet, yes violet, eyes and a set of choppers that practically pinged in the morning light.

 

How could dimples sink that deep and not scar? Obviously another vain bastard cut from the same cloth as the prematurely gray stud. They were probably a couple, she assured herself, trying not to drool on her black leather jacket as he slouched casually against the car and openly leered at her.

 

“Mmmmm, well hello…and what might your name be, my little cherry blossom?” he inquired in a silky male register. She could hardly hear his question but for the rapid beating of her heart in her ears.

 

Yes, those teeth definitely pinged. No one's teeth were ever meant to be that white. It was downright unnatural.

 

Sango, already crimson with rage, turned an even more virulent vermillion with embarrassment.

 

She hadn't even tried this morning aside from a shower. She must have looked like death warmed over and there this pervert was deducing her bra size with x-ray vision.

 

All she knew was this: she hated him. She hated his friend and most of all she hated this day.

 

“Miroku…” said a deep baritone in warning. “Stay with Rin…in the car and leave the dyke alone.”

 

Sango sprung, but was caught in deceptively lean arms that were in reality bands of steel.

 

“Now, now, my little sakura blossom, temper, temper. Don't listen to him. You don't look like the type that munches carpeting. At least not regularly,” Miroku said looking down into her deep brown, infuriated eyes.

 

Pretty thing, a little uptight, but there were distinct possibilities. All that rage probably held a wealth of sensuality untapped. She would make marvelous children one day. The urge to cop a quick feel was ever present, but he resisted. Being slapped was not on his list of things to do today.

 

The rhythmic clacking of geta on the pavement caused Kagome to blink out of her stupor. How long had she been standing there staring at Mister Taishou and who was Rin? And did he just call Sango a dyke?

 

She blushed self-consciously and cleared her throat to speak, just as Oshi came to her side. His usually small eyes were twice their size as he took in the state of the esteemed Dog Demon.

 

“Tai..”

 

“Not now, Oshi.” Sesshoumaru cut him off and moved forward, golden eyes fixed on the man servant in warning.

 

Oshi folded his arms and bowed in abject apology. He had almost given the game away in his haste to appease. Many had died for less, though not recently.

 

“Come inside, please. Let's see what we can do about your…clothing. I am so sorry, Mister Taishou,” Kagome said with genuine apology, missing entirely the abrupt exchange. “I'll replace everything today. I'm sure my father's things can fit you in the interim.”

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes swiveled back to the dark-haired woman. They narrowed, looking for trickery. There was none.

 

“I've had quite enough of being a spectacle, Higurashi. Let's get this over with,” he replied, brushing past her and heading for the shop with smooth strides…smooth but for the constant drip of his hair and sloshing clothing, which left a trail enviable only to Jean Paul Riopelle and his ilk.

 

There was no dignity in the 21st century to be found, and yet, he had made a promise and he would keep it.

 

~~~TAoT~~~

 

Kagome listened quietly at the bathroom door. The shower was still going. She held up the bottle of turpentine and bit her lower lip. Maybe she should ask Oshi to take it to him? Then again, she had left him downstairs to tend the customers. Mrs. Lee was no help either. She was with the little girl and Mister Taishou's friend in the kitchen boiling tapioca for bubble tea. Maybe she could just put it on the vanity and he would get it?

 

She carefully turned the brass knob, only to have it wrenched from her grip, almost spilling the cup of chamomile tea she had precariously perched in her other hand.

 

“What do you want woman? Have you not done enough!?” barked the wet, sleek male with a dark towel about his waist…barely.

 

This was the second time he had accused her of this. The first time she had let it go, but goddamn it! He was getting paint all over her bathroom rug and favourite bath towel and still didn't show the slightest inclination of being mollified by her repeated apologies and endless deference.

 

“Why you ungrateful bastard! I'm really, really, trying here,” she said between clenched teeth, throwing the clothing toward him and slammed the bottle on the counter “That is in case you can't get it off…anything you value!”

 

Sesshoumaru caught the bundle and glanced disinterestedly at the bottle of turpentine, sniffing at it delicately before looking at her outstretched hand. Chamomile, undoubtedly, to sooth his savage beast; if she only knew.

 

He smirked, lazily glancing over her flushed face.

 

“I knew my father,” was the singular response as he slammed her bathroom door in her face, but not before taking the tea cup and bowing.

 

Kagome blinked, then blinked again in consternation. A little fist rose to pummel the door soundly.

 

“Open this door and explain yourself! And don't run the shower unless you're in it. We are not all as rich as Croesus, you know. Think of the environment.”

 

The door opened a crack while the shower continued to run.

 

“If you will insist on being tiresome, your assistance may well be required. Come in, woman,” was the thoroughly bored retort.

 

The steam engulfed her as she entered with much trepidation. This was sooooooooo not a good idea but her naked feet carried her in anyway.

 

Sango retreated down the stairs, having heard the entire encounter. A set of violet eyes with a hard glint met her own with an inquisitive stare while opening the door that led to the kitchen, where there was much giggling of Mister Taishou's ward who was being introduced to the art of bubble tea. She was being watched.

 

This was new…

 

Author's Note

 

Yes, I am awful, evil and a colossal tease…hehehehe…I promise, another installment on Monday, since it is a long weekend…and I have some downtime. Sincerely hope you enjoyed. I know I have…particularly the next bit (wicked grin)…oh the tension…oh oh..oh…and what of Inuyasha indeed…

 

EP