InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Sweetest Escape ❯ 'Tossed Greens' and 10 Questions ( Chapter 9 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

People probably have lots of questions…don't worry. I'm pretty sure I know all the questions people want to ask, and I'm pretty sure I've got an answer to all of them! Heh heh… Just remember—I build action kind of slowly. As you've probably noticed. So just stick around. Don't get bored!

Chapter 9: `Tossed Greens' and 10 Questions

“Okay, so let's play a game,” Kagome suggested.

“What for?” he groused.

“To pass the time. Come on, it'll be fun,” she insisted. She heard his low groan from the other side of the car.

“Fine,” came his sulky reply. Kagome rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. He just couldn't be chipper and go along with anything easily, could he? Well. At least he was here. She hadn't been expecting him to come over when she called not even two days after New Year's. It had been a pretty bizarre phone conversation.

“Hullo?” he answered. He sounded like his mouth was stuffed with cotton balls.

“Inuyasha?” she questioned.

“K'gme?” he muttered. Or…maybe like he was talking in a closet.

“Are you—where are you?” she asked.

“The closet,” he replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh…okay. Um…why are you in the closet?” She couldn't help but ask.

“Not s'posed to be on th' phone, r'member?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah. Dad's outside,” he said briefly. For the life of her, Kagome couldn't understand what was so horrible about him being on the phone. Was he on punishment or something?

“Oh, okay. Well, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to a movie today,” she invited quickly. She smiled when she heard his breath catch.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she assured him, a smile on her face.

“Can't. No money,” he mumbled.

“Well, that's alright. We can still hang out if you want,” she offered.

“Yes.”

“Yes…you do want to hang out?” she said slowly, trying to decipher meaning from his vague answer.

“Yes.”

“Alright…do you need me to pick you up?”

“No. Bus.” What was he, a caveman now? What did it take to get a complete sentence out of him?

“Alright. When will you be over?”

“Twenty…five. Thirty.”

“Okay, so…thirty minutes? Or twenty-five?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Twenty-five minutes?”

“No.”

“Thirty?”

“Yes.”

Kagome sighed. He was acting really strange. “Okay. See you in thirty minutes,” she said once more.

“Yes.”

She hung up and frowned. “That was just weird,” she said to herself.

Inuyasha poked his nose out of the hallway closet, sniffing carefully for any sign that his father was in the proximity. He'd already gotten his customary `punishment' for the day, and was in no mood for another. Assured that the older demon was elsewhere, he slinked out of the tiny space and replaced the phone on its hook. Kagome had sounded quite confused at his brief, vague answers, but he was sure he'd gotten his point across, and what was more, if his father had any kind of ear on him, he'd have no information to go on. Yes, the closet seemed like it would be a pretty good solution to his phone-privacy issues.

At least when she answered the door this time, he wasn't exclaiming `I can't do this!' That was progress. He just gave a brief, tiny smile and stepped in.

“So I was thinking if you just wanted to watch some—“

“Hey, um…how's your car?” he asked abruptly.

“Um…It's fine, I guess,” she said, shrugging.

“I mean, it's still got the scratches in it, doesn't it?”

“Well, yeah—“

“You gonna fix that?”

“Well, yeah….I just…I just haven't gotten around to it. I was gonna go get some paint for it. I guess I just haven't felt up to it yet,” she admitted. He frowned.

“I'll help,” he said suddenly.

“You will?”

“Mm-hm….kinda my fault it happened anyway…” he muttered.

“It's not your fault—“

“I know you don't think it is,” he interrupted. “But it is.”

“It's not your fault, Inuyasha. You didn't scratch up the ca—“

“Do you want my help or not?” he asked bluntly.

“Um…yes. Yes, I do,” she said, thinking that it was rather odd for him to be offering his help to her for a change.

And that was how she'd ended up in a car parts shop, in the paint aisle, arguing with a stubborn teenage boy about what color enamel she should buy.

“What about this one?” Kagome asked him, picking up a paint kit. “`Tossed greens'…hm. Sounds like a salad,” she mused.

“That's not gonna match,” he said bluntly. Kagome frowned.

“What do you mean? It's green, just like my car.”

“Yeah, but it's not the right shade of green,” he pointed out.

“It looks like the right shade.”

“But it's not.”

“You've seen my car, what, once? Twice? How do you know what color will look best?”

“I just know.”

“I like this color. And it looks like it'll match to me,” she muttered.

“You want the paint to blend, or do you want to have to repaint the whole car with `Tossed Greens'?” he asked.

“Blend,” she said, pouting slightly.

“Then I suggest you put that down. It's not dark enough. It's got too much yellow in it,” he said knowingly. Kagome frowned at him, raised and eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips.

“Fine then. If you know so much, you pick out a color,” she said haughtily. `Ha. Let's see him get out of this one,' she smirked to herself. She watched him as he scanned the rows and rows of paint kits, eyes quickly flicking over every little paint sample. He picked one out.

“This one,” he said with finality, handing her a box.

“`Espalier'?” she read with a frown. “What kind of name is that for a color?”

“What kind of a name is `Tossed Greens?' It sounds like vomit,” he retorted.

“I think it's kind of catchy. And besides…I don't think this is gonna go too well with—“

“Believe me. It'll blend. Your car is more of a shamrock color…maybe just a hint of kale-green,” he said, his eyes closed and his brow creased in concentration, as though he were picturing her car in his mind's eye. “This is just a bit lighter, but I think it'll work anyway,” he explained with certainty. Kagome cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, giving the boy a strange look.

“Okay…”

“You don't believe me,” he stated more than asked.

“Um…sure, I believe you,” she said patronizingly.

“No, you don't,” he accused, his brow wrinkling almost imperceptibly. “Fine. Go ahead and get `Tossed Greens'. When your car looks like a lime, don't come crying to me,” he said loftily. Kagome huffed.

“Fine. You know what? I'll buy both. Then we can really see who's right,” she said indignantly, and, swiping both kits, proceeded to purchase them at the front.

Kagome hated being wrong. What's worse, she hated being wrong when there was money involved.

Inuyasha had been right. Dead on, in fact. They'd set up their little painting operation in the small shed at the bottom of the tall stairs that led to her house. Quickly as she could get on the grubby sweatshirt she was going to work and in and tied her hair back, Kagome ripped open the paint kit, and taking out the included paint puff, poured the paint into an empty tray.

“I'll show you,” she said proudly, dipping the gigantic puff into the paint. But even as she looked at it, she could tell it wasn't going to work. She hesitated, the puff hovering just over the `D'.

“What's the matter?” Inuyasha asked from where he was leaning against a long wooden table, idly stirring his own `Espalier' paint with a stick. “A bit too bright for your liking?” Ooohh, he sounded so smug. She could just throw that stupid puff at him. Kagome bit her lip and dropped the spent puff back into the tray.

“Okay, fine. You were right, I was wrong,” she admitted, hating the words as she said them.

“Hm. Told you so,” he said slowly, obviously relishing the fact that he'd one. He poured half of the espalier into another tray and handed it to her along with a clean puff and a smile. She managed to give a smile back as he rounded the car to work on the other side. And dammit if his paint didn't blend perfectly! You could barely even tell the difference!

“How come you're so good at matching color? You've barely seen my car. Kind of amazing that you could match the color so well,” she murmured.

“Mm,” he grunted, completely ignoring her question. “Did your mom see this?” he asked suddenly.

“No. There's only room in here for one car, and she likes to park on the street,” Kagome explained.

“Good,” he said. He sounded relieved.

“I haven't driven it since that day,” she went on. “Actually…this is the first time I've been in here since then…”

“And you're sure your mom, grandfather and brother haven't seen it?”

“Yeah, I'm positive. They don't ever come in here.”

“Okay.” She wondered why he'd be so anxious for her family not to see it, until she realized that if they did, they'd automatically make the connection. She knew her family didn't mind Inuyasha's heritage, but she also knew that if they had any reason to suspect that her association with him was causing her harm, they would end it immediately. Well…Her grandfather would. Her mother would try to understand and caution her to be careful. Souta would have probably continued to put Inuyasha up on a pedestal.

The silence had become too oppressive and that was when she suggested they play a game.

“What kind of game?” His tone implied that he wasn't quite as eager as the question might lead one to think.

“Oh…I dunno. A question game?” He didn't reply for a long time.

“Like what?”

“Twenty Questions,” she said. “Do you know how to play that?”

“I'm sure it can't be that difficult,” he said dryly. Kagome rolled her eyes.

“Okay, so we each will ask each other ten questions, and you've got to answer truthfully,” she explained anyway.

“I thought it was called twenty questions.”

“Well…yeah. But I don't think it'll take us that long to finish, do you? Besides, ten from you, ten from me—that's twenty,” she said quickly. “I'll go first. Are you ready for this? It's a big one,” she warned.

“Well doesn't that just fit,” he muttered, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice. She smirked.

“Okay…what's your favorite color?” she asked. His head popped up over the roof of the Bug to regard her with a strange look.

“That's it?” he asked.

“That's it,” she confirmed, rubbing her puff over the door once more.

“That's your big question? My favorite color?” he repeated in a deadpan voice. She looked at him. His expression was disbelieving.

“Yeah. Why? Do you want me to ask you something more personal?”

“No…” he admitted, face thoughtful.

“Okay then. What's your favorite color?” she repeated.

“…Depends,” he replied. He'd crouched back down. Kagome frowned, her puff pausing in mid-swipe.

“Depends? On what?”

“I dunno. The weather. The day of the week. My mood. Just depends,” he said vaguely.

“So…you have more than one favorite color, then?” she stated more than asked. She set her puff down in the tray and walked around the front of the car to watch him as he carefully applied the paint in long, slow, even strokes, sitting atop an old tub of laundry detergent. She never would have thought of Inuyasha as graceful, but…strangely enough, as he painted her car door, that was the word that came to mind.

“Yup.”

“How many?”

“Too many to list.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” he frowned.

“Why do you have more than one?”

“I dunno. I just do,” he replied simply.

“What's your favorite right now?” she asked. He thought for a long moment.

“Mm….Aleutian,” he said finally. Kagome's eyes widened. Honestly, she was expecting blue.

“Um…aren't those islands?” He finally looked away from his task.

“Islands?” he asked, his head cocked.

“Yeah…like, near Alaska,” she clarified. He squinted at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure…”

“Hm…all I know is the color,” he said with a shrug.

“What, um…what color would Aleutian be, anyway?” she asked, curious as to his answer.

“It's…I'd have to say it's a cross between slate-blue and a periwinkle color. More on the periwinkle side, though, if you ask me,” he mused.

“That's…interesting…” Kagome said slowly as she stared at him. Honestly, what guy knew that much about colors? What guy even knew a color like periwinkle existed? `Maybe…maybe he's gay…' she thought. For some reason, she felt slightly dismayed at that thought.

“How so?” he asked, his head cocking to the side. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were trained on the task at hand, not straying the slightest bit.

“Well…that's not really a typical `guy' answer,” she explained. “Heck, that's not a typical answer period.”

“Well, I'm not really a `typical' guy, in case you haven't noticed,” he retorted with a bit of bite in his tone. Kagome made a note to steer clear of any reference to what was considered `normal'.

“That's not what I meant. I'm only saying, when asked `what's your favorite color', most guys would say something generic and boring like `blue' or `red' or `I don't have a favorite color'. I like your answer better,” she said truthfully. She eyed him critically in his baggy jeans and sweatshirt that never left him. `Nah…' There was no way Inuyasha was gay…he just didn't strike her as the type. Then what was with the color thing?

He slanted her a look out of the corner of his eye, and then looked back at the car, his mouth twitching up at the side slightly.

“My turn,” he said quietly.

“Okay, shoot. Give me your worst,” she said cheerfully as she turned over an old bucket to sit on. She leaned her elbows on her knees and propped up her chin in her hands.

“What's your favorite thing to do?”

“Favorite thing to do…thing to do,” she muttered. “Um…besides being with my family and friends? Taking pictures. I've got three cameras,” she answered. She also had her own little dark room set up in the basement, but she didn't tell Inuyasha that. “I could show you some of them when we're done,” she offered, trying to be nonchalant.

“Okay,” he said timidly. At least, he sounded that way to her.

“My turn. What is…what's your favorite thing to do?” she asked finally, repeating his question.

“I…um…Hey! You can't repeat questions!” he exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“The game is Twenty Questions. If you repeat questions, then it's more like Nineteen Questions…” he rationalized. Kagome stared at him again.

“Okay…Fine. I'll ask something different.” She thought. “Alright—what's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?” she asked with a smile. Meanwhile, his slid away.

“Oh…uh…”

“You're not getting out of this one,” she teased.

“I'll tell you my favorite thing,” he offered instead. Kagome shook her head, grinning.

“Uh-uh, no way. I don't even want to know that anymore. I wanna know the scariest,” she insisted. Inuyasha looked a bit pale. `This is what you get when you agree to play stupid games with girls that you know are nosy beyond all belief,' he told himself. He fiddled with the clean side of the puff. `Lie, Inuyasha. She'll never know. Just lie.”

“Um…scariest thing was when, I, uh…got lost. In the mall. I went to look at something in a display, and when I went back, my dad was gone. Just like that. Really scary for a five year old,” he said quickly. Kagome frowned at him. He'd sounded unconvincing to even himself, and he knew she couldn't have possibly believed that load of bull.

“Alright. Fine,” she said loftily, and he felt bad that she probably knew he was lying. But he'd be damned if he was about to spill his guts about being terrified every time he entered his own home. “You go,” she prompted.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” he asked. Kagome blinked. “What?” he snapped defensively.

“I just…wouldn't have expected that kind of question from you,” she said. “That's a good one…um…honestly, I don't know. I know I want to go to college, but…I don't know for what. Maybe biology? I like science. Maybe I'll be a scientist,” she pondered aloud.

“What about photography?”

“Well…it'd be nice. But, I really don't think I could make a practical career out of that. If I could, I would, though.”

“So, you're good at it?”

“Uh…yeah. I'd like to think so. I'm pretty good. But, with something like photo, I don't think it matters how quote-unquote good you are. I don't think it matters about how it stacks up to a textbook definition of good. I just think if you enjoy it…then hey, you're good at it. But, that's just my little philosophy.” Inuyasha nodded his understanding. “Alright. Me again,” Kagome said. She chewed on the tip of her pinky nail as she thought. “Okay, I've got it. What is the saddest thing that's ever happened to you?” she asked finally.

Inuyasha froze. He rigidly set the paint puff down, having finished his side. Kagome had completely forgotten about her side, and wasn't planning on going back to it soon. The left corner of his mouth twitched down, and he looked at her, his face stony.

“You're really digging here, aren't you?” Kagome shrugged, and continued to look at him intently.

“No. We're only talking,” she said. “Just don't lie to me this time,” she warned. Inuyasha bit his lip and stared at the side of the car hard.

“I…it's none of your business…” he said, his voice cracking.

“Well, none of what we've been asking each other is really any of the other's business, is it? But we've been telling it anyway, right? Some of us more honestly than others?” she reasoned. Inuyasha blushed a bit. He didn't point out the fact that he hadn't asked her anything quite so personal.

What to do now? He didn't want Kagome to be mad at him. And it seemed like that was exactly what she'd be if she felt he wasn't being truthful with her. Should he tell? He rationalized that she had in fact told him about what was probably the saddest thing for her. Even if they hadn't been playing a game at the time. A game he was quickly beginning to regret agreeing to. So maybe he felt he owed her something substantial in return for her sharing earlier in their relationship. His decision was made.

“My mom died,” he mumbled, so quietly that Kagome could barely hear him. But she definitely did hear him. Her heartbeat quickened. He'd lost his mother…so that was why he never talked about her.

“I—oh, Kami,” she murmured. “Inuyasha, I'm so sorry…”

“It's fine, no need to apologize,” he said quickly, shrugging and continually picking with that puff. “After all, you didn't kill her.”

Kagome's jaw absolutely dropped as she stared at him in horror. `Kill her? Kill?' Kagome's mind was reeling.

“I—she…Oh, Kami,” she repeated faintly. “Killed?” she whispered, more to herself than anything else. But Inuyasha's sharp ears picked it up.

“Yep. Just like that,” he said as he snapped his fingers one loud time, his voice eerily clipped. “In the blink of a fucking eye…one moment she's there, talking to me, the next, she's just…gray and red,” he muttered, and Kagome had the feeling that Inuyasha had been there for whatever horrific event that had taken place. He stared intently at the cement floor between the toes of his shoes. Kagome swallowed thickly.

“How—“

“Nine,” he said, effectively cutting her off. He'd read her mind. His voice was like ice, and he was wound so tightly, she could see it. She wouldn't ask how she'd been…well. She just wouldn't ask. Now she knew why he'd asked such peculiar questions in the library that day about her own father's death. She supposed, he wanted to see if she suffered as he clearly did.

Scooting her bucket closer to where he sat on the empty tub, she reached out for one of his hands that dangled between his knees. She gently pressed her hand against his, her palm slightly cupped, and shivered at the goosebumps that arose from his claws brushing lightly against the underside of her wrist. She watched as he stared at their hands, each flecked with speckles of green paint. His hand, she noticed, had a long cut that ran from the thin flesh between his forefinger and thumb, across the expanse of the back, and then disappeared into his sweatshirt sleeve. His hand was warm, too, and surprisingly soft. It wasn't as soft as hers, but it wasn't rough as she would have expected Inuyasha's hand to be. His eyes flicked to her face, and he seemed to be studying her. It was quite unnerving.

“I know just how you feel,” she said in a small, unassuming voice. She usually hated it when people told her that they knew how she felt—when they assumed they knew how she was feeling. But, the truth was she did know how Inuyasha felt: losing a parent at a young age. Granted, her father hadn't been killed—and she certainly hadn't been there as he died. But still. She had some knowledge of the feeling.

“I know you do,” he said seriously, eyes boring into her brain.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked,” she admitted

“It's alright—I figure…you told me about your dad, so I guess I could, you know…and…that's why— if you hadn't told me about your him…that day in the library…I probably wouldn't have told you shit,” he said bluntly.

“Mm-hm.”

“I…I've never…told anybody about her. Ever. I never…wanted to,” he said slowly, his eyes squinting a bit, as if he were begging for her to understand the magnitude of the situation. She understood loud and clear. Because she knew just what that meant.

He was beginning to trust her.

Author's Notes: Well, that seems about as good a place as any to end it.

Next chapter: a surprise for you all!

Hey, look—2 chapters in one weekend! I'm on a roll, here, guys. Hope this part isn't awkward. I wanted to get him to open up to her a bit, and I figured, what way to do that better than 20 questions? Or, the reduced calorie version at least.

Also—I don't own Sherwin Williams Paint. (that's where I get all the colors from—seriously.)

Except `Tossed Greens'! I think I read that on a salad bag somewhere…

Review for me!

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