InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Sweetest Escape ❯ Combust ( Chapter 20 )

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

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

Author's Note:

Hope everyone's having a great Thanksgiving Weekend. I know I am. No school for me! Woot Woot!

I really like this chapter. I hope you all do too.

Enjoy!

Chapter 20: Combust

“I am so. Fucking. Nervous,” he said in clipped words as Kagome straightened his horribly wrenched tie. She smiled and shook her head at his words.

“You're gonna be great.” Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her.

“Keh. Yeah right.”

“I'm serious. You're gonna be the best one there,” she emphasized. Inuyasha sighed and eyed her surreptitiously. He ran his eyes over her form as she fixed the disaster than was his tie. She was truly a vision in the satiny, mulberry colored dress that so closely hugged the contours of her body. The dress swished gently around her calves, moved like water over her stomach, and draped dramatically across the smooth expanse of her back, essentially accentuating every asset she had. Curls that looked softer than clouds hung loosely from the messily elegant bun she'd pinned her hair into. And, to his satisfaction, she wore very little makeup; only the tiniest bit of gloss on her perfectly shaped lips. He was honored to be able to say that such a woman was his date tonight.

“Did I tell you that you look incredible tonight?” he asked suddenly. She smiled up at him, nodding, smoothing the material of his tie against his chest.

“Yes, you did.”

“Want me to say it again?”

“If you feel the need.”

“You look incredible, Kagome,” he said seriously. “Really. You look so pretty,” he murmured. She couldn't help but blush at the innocent compliment. `He can just be so sweet when he wants to,' she thought.

“Well. You don't clean up too bad yourself,” she told him. “You look great.” He grinned self-consciously, ducking his head before his eyes popped wide.

“Oh, shit…” he began.

“What? What's wrong?”

“My ears, that's what's wrong!” he exclaimed. His hands flew to the top of his skull to cover said appendages. “Shit, this is gonna ruin everything—”

“Inuyasha, calm down,” Kagome instructed placidly.

“How am I supposed to—”

“I told you I'd handle it, didn't I?” she asked calmly. “Didn't I tell you I'd have something for you?”

“Well…yeah, but—”

“Then chill out. I've got you covered,” she said confidently. “I'll be right back.”

Upon her return, Inuyasha cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

“A hat?” he questioned. “You want me to wear a hat?”

“Well, what else would you wear? A bandana? To a formal event? I think not,” she laughed.

“But…”

“It's a trilby, and lots of men wear these to formal events,” she explained, giving him the hat. Inuyasha stared at it uselessly. “And look—I did a pretty darn good job matching it, too!” She had. The charcoal gray pinstripes in the hat matched the hue of gray in his one and only suit almost perfectly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Put it on,” she urged.

Inuyasha sighed and carelessly plopped the hat on his head.

“I feel stupid,” he said bluntly. Kagome sighed and shook her head.

“That's because you're wearing it all wrong,” she informed him. “You've got to tilt it to the side—wear it with some attitude.” Kagome began to shift the hat and position his hair to suit her tastes. “I know you've got plenty of that,” she quipped with a grin.

“Ha, ha,” Inuyasha drawled, rolling his eyes.

“I don't see why you want to cover them up anyway,” she thought aloud. “They're absolutely adorable. And I don't think you're going to have any trouble tonight either. Just remember that they have to stick to their own rules. And nowhere in them did it say `no hanyous',” she reminded him as she continued to adjust him.

“Yeah, well, there's no sense in broadcasting it,” he said grimly. Kagome stepped back to admire her work.

“I look ridiculous, don't I?” Inuyasha groaned. Kagome bit her lip and shook her head, a slow smile stretching her lips.

“No…no, Inuyasha…you look hot,” she breathed sincerely. He blushed and turned away.

“Keh.”

“No, really…a trilby suits you…oh! Wait!” she exclaimed suddenly, and rushed behind him. He felt tugging on his scalp. “Just let me braid it!” she squealed. She made quick work of the thick length of hair, leaving out his two forelocks, only catching a few kinks and a few winces from the boy in front of her. Using the elastic band around her wrist, she secured the loose end of the long ponytail. Turning him around to face her, she practically melted at the sight of him. “Oh, Kami, you look hot…” she murmured.

“Yeah?” he asked shakily, blush lighting his cheeks. Compulsively, she slid her arms around his neck and smirked.

“Yeah. So hot.” He responded by resting his hands on her hips.

“You…you're—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You…you look pretty damn hot yourself,” he said with finality. Kagome grinned at him devilishly.

“Yeah? Prove it to me,” she commanded. Inuyasha happily obliged her and dipped his head to kiss her chin slowly, twice before kissing her mouth fully. “Mmm. I am so ready to watch you win this thing,” she whispered.

His body tensed up around her, and he bit his lip.

“What?”

“I have to talk about it, Kagome. In front of people. Do you realize how much potential I have to screw that up? Tons.”

“Do you realize how much potential you have to win this entire thing? Tons,” she shot back.

“Are you two ready yet? We don't want to be late,” Mrs. Higurashi called as she walked into the living room. “Oh, you two look absolutely wonderful,” she cooed with a warm smile. “Kagome, for once you don't have your camera? I'm shocked.”

“Oh, no, I've got it right here,” she assured her mother, motioning to the camera bag on the sofa.

“Then let me take some photos of you both. Come on, scoot together. Don't act like you don't get close when I'm out of the room,” she chuckled, bringing blushes from both teens.

“Way. Too. Perceptive,” Kagome muttered so that only Inuyasha could hear. He nodded his agreement as they arranged themselves into what were typical prom poses.

“I wanna be in the picture too!” Souta exclaimed, bounding down the stairs in his tiny black suit. “I wanna stand next to Inuyasha!”

“Just wait a minute, Souta. Let me get Inuyasha and Kagome alone first.” She snapped several photos of the couple, then of each of them alone before allowing Souta to jump in beside Inuyasha. They took several pictures like that before Kagome insisted that she get some pictures of her and Grandpa. Photos aside, they all piled into the car and were on their way.

“Can't I just have a little peek?” Kagome begged.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said no.”

“Inuyasha!”

“Kagome!” he exclaimed, imitating her. He smiled. “Are Miroku and Sango still coming?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“Yeah. I think they're already here. They left way before we did,” she said. “I don't see why I can't see—”

“Because it's a surprise,” he said smugly, cutting her off. He kissed her cheek briefly. “You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” she insisted obstinately. Inuyasha chuckled.

“Well, that's too bad. You'll just have to wait.”

“Not much longer she won't. We're here,” Mrs. Higurashi informed them. All three occupants of the back seat snapped their heads to the right to see the immense mansion towards which they were driving.

“Whoa,” Inuyasha breathed.

“I wonder where I should park…” Mrs. Higurashi wondered aloud.

“I…I think there's a valet, Mama,” Kagome told her. Sure enough, a car a ways ahead of them pulled into a large, elegant, circular cobblestone drive. A tall man and a young girl in a pink dress got out of the car, and the driver tossed a young man in a red blazer a set of keys. Mrs. Higurashi shrugged and followed suit, and joined the long line of cars in the circular drive.

Inuyasha watched the people that exited the vehicles ahead of them. Everyone he saw was dressed to the hilt in expensive tuxedoes and dresses, shining cufflinks and jewelry, strappy shoes and purses. He knew that Kagome and her family would fit right in… he just hoped he wasn't underdressed…

The car came to a stop and they all piled out, Inuyasha the last one. He carefully slid the large zippered tote that held the equally large canvas from under the back seat, and looped the strap over his shoulder. The valet boy drove the car away as he walked to join the group of people waiting for him.

“These cobblestones are definitely not working for me with these heels on,” Kagome grumbled as they moved forward.

“You want me to carry you?” Inuyasha asked with a coy smirk.

“No, thank you,” she said dryly. “This place is huge,” she murmured.

“Yeah…” he said in agreement, his eyes looking up the walk at the enormous estate. Acres upon acres of land sprawled out on either side of them, the centerpiece of the property being the gigantic mansion towards which they walked. Rose bushes adorned with every color petal lined the sides of the long cobbled pathway, filling the evening air with their soft fragrance. The immense brick house loomed just before them now, lit merrily and bustling with activity as classical piano music poured through the door. Inuyasha took a deep breath as they crossed the threshold.

“Welcome to the home of Goro Oichi!” a cheerful female voice greeted them, no sooner than they had entered the vast foyer. The party looked to their right to see a young woman seated at a low table, stacks of papers and cards strewn about her. “Are you the entrant?” she asked Inuyasha.

“Oh…uh, yeah.”

“Okay then. Please sign here,” she instructed, pushing a sign-in sheet towards the edge of the table. “Here is your number. Remember it. The sticker goes with your painting,” she told him.

“What's the number for?” Inuyasha asked as he quickly scrawled his name beside the printed version.

“You'll be called by that number when you're behind the curtains.”

“Curtains?”

“Yes. It helps the judges to remain objective and unbiased when they make their decisions. This way, the only thing they're judging is the art,” the girl explained, handing him a sheet of paper. `Order of Events' it read.

“Oh…okay, thanks,” he said, scanning the sheet and taking a number from the stack.

“You're welcome! Enjoy the festivities!”

“Inuyasha, this is great!” Kagome exclaimed. “See? Now you really don't have anything to worry about.

“There you guys are!” Sango and Miroku came rushing up to them. “We've been waiting for like thirty minutes! You took forever!” Sango scolded.

“Nice hat,” Miroku grinned, tugging on the brim.

“Sarcasm isn't appreciated,” Inuyasha growled, narrowing his eyes.

“It's not sarcasm! I like it, really!”

“So when does the actual competition start?” Sango jumped in excitedly.

“Um…I guess in about thirty minutes,” Inuyasha said, looking at the itinerary. “Guess we were running later than we thought…”

“Would you like to tour the mansion?” a polite voice asked. “I can take you on a tour to see the entirety of Oichi Estates. We are just leaving with a group now,” the young tour guide said, motioning to her little gold badge.

“Why, yes, that would be lovely,” Mrs. Higurashi said graciously as the girl beamed and began to walk towards one of the vast corridors that fed from the foyer.

Somewhere amidst the numerous doors and halls and extravagant rooms and enormous libraries and twinkling gardens, Inuyasha fell to the back of the pack, his mind wandering away from the speech the tour guide was making in Goro Oichi's honor.

“And this is Mr. Oichi's illustrious Humanitarian Room,” she announced proudly, as though she were somehow partially responsible for the awards the room's shelves held. “As you all probably know, aside from being one of the most prosperous and influential men in all of Central Japan, Mr. Goro Oichi is quite active in the community. He has donated generous funds to several homeless shelters, and has appeared in ads across the country emphasizing the importance of the arts in schools. For years, his contributions to the artistic community have been recognized by very prominent political figures. This is where these recognitions are housed,” she prattled on and on.

Inuyasha began to worry. Again. Surreptitiously, he slipped the small stack of index cards out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and scanned them for the umpteenth time. He bit his lip and shifted the canvas tote on his shoulder.

“The Renaissance Youth Art Competition is one of Goro Oichi ways of giving back to the community. In years past, and for years to come, this prestigious competition has helped to launch deserving youth to new heights, giving them needed education, and the connections necessary to be successful. For all those competing tonight, you should feel honored to have the chance at endorsement by such a great man!”

Inuyasha was beginning to feel sick. There was so much…pressure. `What if I can't do this?' he wondered. `What am I talking about? I can't do this! I'm gonna lose! I'm gonna—'

“Man, that thing's big,” Miroku's voice sounded suddenly by his side. “The picture. It's huge,” he clarified.

“Oh…yeah…”

“How long did it take you to finish it?”

“About three weeks…Almost every day after school. All day on the weekends.” Miroku whistled.

“That's a lot of time.”

“I've done longer hauls. I didn't really have as much time as I wanted,” Inuyasha shrugged.

“Can I see it?” Inuyasha gave him a dry look.

“If Kagome has to wait, so do you,” he told him.

“Fine…” he mock-pouted, crossing his arms. “Is she in it?” Inuyasha blushed and pressed his lips together, looking away. Miroku gave him a sidelong look, a knowing smirk on his face. “She is. I knew it.”

“Don't make a big deal out of it.”

“I'm not. Swear.” Miroku smiled and patted his shoulder in a chummy way. “You guys are good together,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah?” Inuyasha asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “Why do you think me and Sango hooked you guys up? We could see it from the beginning,” he said smugly. Inuyasha shook his head, a half smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well, I might thank you later.”

“You'd better thank me later,” Miroku shot back good-naturedly. “Kami, is this tour ever gonna end?” he muttered after a moment or two.

“It can go on forever for all I care,” Inuyasha grumbled. “Fucking nervous as hell,” he explained lowly.

“Why?”

“They're gonna ask me stuff about the painting. Public speaking…it ain't exactly my strong point.”

“You wanna know the best cure for that?”

“What? And don't say something stupid.”

“Just imagine the whole crowd in their underwear. Works like a charm everytime,” Miroku said with confidence. Inuyasha stared at him.

“That's stupid,” he said bluntly. “And I'm gonna be behind a curtain anyway.”

“Oh…well, then I guess that's no good…” Miroku said with dismay. “Ah, well. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. You'd have probably been too busy imagining Kagome in her underwear to really concentrate on your speech,” he snorted. Inuyasha's eyes flew wide.

“Shut up!” he hissed, hoping no one had overheard. Miroku covered his mouth with his hands, his shoulders shaking in laughter at Inuyasha's ire. “Jackass,” he muttered.

“No, but seriously,” he continued, his laughter ceasing as though it had never started. He gave Inuyasha a confident look, and put a hand on his shoulder once more. “You're gonna do great, man. I know it.” Inuyasha was surprised yet again. He hadn't expected something so…poignant…from Miroku.

“Thanks…I hope so…”

“At this time, we would like for all of the participants to meet in the foyer for the a press picture, and the beginning of the competition,” the Master of Ceremonies announced from the head end of the dining hall. Inuyasha clenched the straps of his tote tightly and stood.

“Guess that's my cue,” he said aloud.

“Good luck, Dear,” Mrs. Higurashi said warmly.

“You be sure to listen to the grown folk, Sonny,” Kagome's grandfather warned gruffly. “They know what they're doing.”

“We all know you're gonna win, Inuyasha,” Sango said encouragingly.

“Mention me in your acceptance speech!” Souta interjected.

“No, he's going to mention me. Because I'm his main inspiration. His muse if you will,” Miroku argued with the small boy. Inuyasha grinned self-consciously before moving away.

“Thanks,” he said softly. His heart warmed as he soaked in all of the praise and encouraging words they so freely offered. Kagome grabbed the lapel of his jacket before he could get too far, pulling him down to her level.

“What, no goodbye?” she asked. He smiled and kissed her briefly, blushing when the full knowledge of what he'd just done in front of an entire room full of people hit him forcefully between the eyes. He pulled back.

“Uh…oh, okay…bye,” he murmured quickly. He caught Kagome's smile before he returned it with a slow one of his own, rushing off to join the other teens that had gathered in the adjacent room.

“Attention! Attention everyone!” a man, diminutive in size, shouted from the center of the foyer, waving his hands about in an effort to gain the throng of teens' attention. He was given a bullhorn by another man who was obviously his assistant, and turned it on, causing all present to wince at the loud screeching sound the device emitted. “Ahem! Hello! I need you all to listen to my instructions so that we can get these pictures for the press and then get on with the contest!”

They were instructed to line themselves up in order from tallest to shortest. Inuyasha ended up on the end as the tallest person present. Just to his left was undoubtedly the tallest human girl he'd ever seen in his life: she stood just inches below the top of his own head. She was lanky, awkward, and looking quite uncomfortable in her ill-fitting, floor length arugula-green dress. She scratched her orange-streaked hair constantly and fidgeted even more than Inuyasha himself.

“I wish we could just get this over with,” she muttered to him suddenly. Inuyasha nodded.

“Same here,” he agreed.

“This is ridiculous,” she continued, crossing her arms and shooting the directing man an acidic look. He was busy arranging the shortest kids at the front of the line in chairs. “I wish everyone would just forget all the pomp and circumstance and just get to the root of what this whole competition is supposed to be about.” Inuyasha looked at her curiously. Why did she seem vaguely familiar? “It's supposed to be about art. But everyone's making it into a circus. A pageant,” she spat bitterly, her high, nasally voice making his teeth grit together.

“Well…I guess…if you don't like dressing up,” Inuyasha muttered. He had no idea what to say to her.

“I'm Aoko,” she introduced. “And you are?” She finally turned to look at him, and frowned. “And you are…you were in my Lit & Comp class last year,” she said suspiciously. “You were that kid…” she murmured, her eyes widening in realization. “You…I had no idea you did…art,” she said uncertainly.

“Uh…yup…” Their row was moved into place so that they could be seen through the window made by the two people in the row before.

“Are you good?” she asked challengingly.

“I…I'd like to think so…” he shrugged.

“Now if you'll all remove your entries from their coverings and hold them in front of you, at relatively the same level, we can get this picture done,” the director said. Inuyasha unzipped his tote, as did everyone else, and he self-consciously removed the portrait from it's cushioned space. Aoko eyed him slowly, from the top of his hat to the tips of his shoes, and Inuyasha recoiled instinctively, moving his painting out of the way, as though she were ready to claw it to shreds.

Cameras flashed at them from all angles for all of thirty seconds, and it was over.

“Now then, I need you to affix your respective numbers to your entries and give them to the assistants,” he instructed.

“What're they gonna do with our paintings?” a boy shouted out the question on everyone else's minds.

“Relax, now, my boy,” the grizzled man chuckled. “All of your entries will be perfectly safe. They are simply going to take them out to the stage and set them on easels so that the public can view them,” he explained. “The judges, including Mr. Goro Oichi himself, are already in place. Surely we can't have you all setting up your own work. That would take away the blind judging that we are aiming for.”

“How do we know they won't mess `em up?” the same boy asked. It was obvious that he was beginning to grate on the man's nerves.

“They are all unbiased workers with absolutely no personal interest in the matter. There will be no sabotage, I assure you.”

Inuyasha shrugged and handed his painting over to the small girl that came to take his work, his number securely adhered to the corner of the tote. He was just glad that he didn't have to be the one to set up the picture; he'd have been mortified.

“That's all you? You did that?” she asked, eyeing the canvas incredulously as the girl walked away with it.

“Yup…all by myself,” Inuyasha muttered, leaning almost imperceptibly away from her.

“It's nice,” she said loftily. She hunched her shoulders around her own picture, and practically shoved it at the boy that came to retrieve it, as though she didn't want him to see.

“Thanks.”

“You'll probably be one of the front runners,” she said with barely contained disdain.

She clenched her lips together and swiftly turned around, her posture stiff and rigid. Inuyasha stiffened in kind…this couldn't end well.

“At this time, we invite you all to come and view the entries. We ask that you only look, do not touch. We have a lot of very talented youth this year, and it is shown most brilliantly through these pieces,” the Master of Ceremonies announced.

Mrs. Higurashi watched Kagome and the others go ahead of her, chatting amongst themselves. Grandpa sat with a group of men his own age a few tables away. She shrugged and went on to peruse the art on her own.

The canvases were set up on elegantly carved easels in a semicircle at the head of the large room, in front of a large curtained off section that was on a raised platform, obviously where the artists themselves would be seated and quizzed. As she walked slowly from canvas to canvas, she had to agree with the MC; there was an abundance of talent present. From vivid landscapes depicting the faraway rainforest to rich still life pictures, from outlandish abstract paintings to traditional fruit bowls, there was no shortage of creative energy.

She'd just finished admiring a truly impressive desert scene, saturated with vibrant colors and was moving to the next when she found herself staring suddenly at her own face.

No, not into a mirror…her profile quite unexpectedly greeted her. Mrs. Higurashi shook her head, confused. Backing up a bit, she looked at the picture as a whole, and was robbed of her very breath.

At the very end of its staggered row, it was powerful in its silent draw. More muted and understated than the other pieces that surrounded it, the portrait seemed to glow. The soft, ethereal colors beckoned all near to stare at it. Mrs. Higurashi gaped.

There were three faces set in a triangle, against a shadowy, midnight blue background, different hues of lighter blue mixing and swirling together in a graceful pattern across the cloth. One was her own, turned in profile, two fingers pressed demurely to her mouth, a soft, warm smile gracing her lips. At the apex of the triangle, her face facing the viewer straight on, was a woman who she'd never seen before, but by instinct knew just who she was. His mother, with a look of sorrow so deep and profound written in her breathtaking features that Mrs. Higurashi found herself a bit choked up. The last face, turned three-quarters to the viewer was her daughter, a radiant, effervescent smile drawing her lips upward, eyes sparkling in laughter; so much like her Kagome.

Mrs. Higurashi shook her head in disbelief, and peered closer to read the title written on the place card in front of it. `Women of my World: A Tribute to the Greats' it read in painstakingly neat writing. She smiled shakily and wiped a tear from her eye before it could escape and cause her makeup to run.

“He's incredible, isn't he?” Kagome asked, suddenly at her side.

“He truly is,” she agreed, nodding. “A tribute to the greats…” she repeated softly.

“You touched him, Mama,” Kagome said, wonder lacing her voice as well. “I guess it's his way of thanking you.”

Mrs. Higurashi smiled disbelievingly, shaking her head.

She may well have touched him. But he'd touched her as well.

“Entrant Number Twenty,” the judge began, clearing his throat. “Will you please tell me what your thought process was as you created… `Me, in Flux Mode'?”

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow at the odd title. He couldn't begin to guess what that meant. He leaned forward to peer down the row of his fellow artists at Number Twenty. The boy shrugged, though his gesture would go unseen by the judges and audience in front of the curtain.

“Well, heck, I dunno…I was watching a time-traveling movie a while ago. I guess I just got to thinking how cool it would be if I could do that too. So…yeah. That's it.”

“…Okay…” the judge said. He didn't sound too pleased. “Thank you.”

“Entrant Number Fourteen,” another judge began. They questioned them in no particular order. Inuyasha supposed it was so that they could ensure they were all on their toes. If they were questioned randomly, there was no way any one person could be much more prepared than another. He was number eleven. He scanned his index cards one more time before tucking them back into his pocket, tuning out Number Fourteen's answer.

“Number Eleven.” He was called. He snapped to attention, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. “Will you please enlighten us on what inspired you to create `Women of my World'?” the judge asked. Inuyasha cleared his throat and pulled the tiny microphone that was clipped to his lapel closer to his mouth.

“The inspiration for the painting came directly from the—”

“One moment please,” the judge requested politely. Inuyasha felt like he'd been punched in the gut. `Shit, don't stop me now! I need to get this done in one shot!' he shouted mentally. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and fished his index cards out of his pocket once more, waiting for an immeasurable stretch of time for the delay to be over…whatever it was.

“I think you're wanted at the end,” the boy in the seat to his right whispered, covering his microphone, drawing Inuyasha's attention away from his study. He leaned back in his chair to see a man beckoning him forward. Frowning his confusion, Inuyasha stood, stuffing the cards into his pocket once more, and making his way towards the end of the row, past twenty other entrants.

The stout man held his hands behind his back, a pensive, slightly angry look on his face. Inuyasha approached him uncertainly, unsure of why he'd been called.

“Sir?” he began. The man finally looked up at him, then down at the microphone on his jacket. He made a cutting motion across his throat, as in `kill it'. Inuyasha flipped the switch on the microphone's base and waited. The man did not speak for some time. He held out his hands for the device, and Inuyasha confusedly handed it over.

“We are terribly sorry for the interruption. Please do not leave your seats, but allow a brief five minute intermission whilst we attend to some…technical difficulties,” the MC implored in the background. Low chatter immediately filled the great hall—background noise.

“You're disqualified,” the man stated quietly. His stumpy fingers rubbed the plastic antenna of the microphone, and he nodded, as though saying `yes' to himself. Inuyasha jerked back.

“I'm what?”

“Disqualified,” he repeated. “Barred, banned, out. Disqualified.”

“Why?”

“Those that do not fit the criterion of the committee have no place in the competition,” he said loftily.

“What? What criterion? What are you talking about?” Inuyasha questioned desperately.

“I don't have to give you an explanation. You'd do well to simply leave with a bit of grace,” the man told him disdainfully.

“The hell you don't!” Inuyasha growled. He was furious. He hadn't worked that hard, hadn't invested all of that time, hadn't gotten his hopes up so high to have them dashed for no apparent reason. Not without a fight. “I followed all the rules! I'm over fourteen, under nineteen, I submitted a new, entirely original work, I stayed within the dimensions, I used only materials from the approved list, I started and finished within the time frame! What didn't I follow? What did I do wron—”

“A half-breed will never win my competition,” the man said darkly. His pointed mustache twitched in his ire, his beady eyes boring into Inuyasha's hatefully. “Never.”

Inuyasha froze, suspended in disbelief for a few moments before his entire body deflated. His shoulders slumped, his muscles, tensed with anger and confusion, relaxed and sagged, his ears drooping under the confines of his trilby; the corners of his mouth tightened.

“You…you're disqualifying me…b-b-because of m-my…blood?” he questioned faintly.

“You've wasted your time and mine by coming here. A fruitless effort, simply put,” the man said snippily. Inuyasha shut his eyes painfully, his head lowered.

“No…no, no, no! No! You can't do this to me!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparking with anger once more. “You can't just disqualify me! You have no right—”

“I can do whatever I want!” the man roared back. “I am Goro Oichi, this is my competition, and I refuse to allow some half-breed trash to soil my name and the reputation of this good contest. I simply won't allow it!”

“But…but you—! No where on the rules does it say that I can't compete! It doesn't even say—”

“It doesn't have to say,” Oichi hissed. “All that matters is that I say. What I say matters, and what I say goes, and right now, I say that you are disqualified, plain and simple.”

Inuyasha struggled to control his labored breathing. His hands trembled in rage and hurt. He clenched his teeth together as his vision started to waver.

“I…I have just as much…right. I have j-j-just as much right as anyone u-up there. I w-worked so h-hard on that painting…and I…I have just as m-much t-t-talent as anyone else up there. I deserve to—”

“You deserve nothing,” Oichi seethed, his beady eyes narrowed into slits. He scoffed derisively. “Talent? You think this is about talent? Foolish half-breed. This is a business,” he said slowly, as though he were talking to a child.

“You think I honestly give a damn about your so-called `talent'? Psh! Here's what's real: the winner of this competition is a gold mine for me. So what? I help some kid through college and I'm a benefactor, a saint, yadda, yadda, yadda. How good does it look that some rich guy helps a poor, destitute artist through school? Helping some charity case. I'll tell you: it looks amazing. I come out looking like the good guy, the hero. So the winner has got to be someone the public can feel sorry for. Someone the public can root for in the long run. Do you honestly think you fit the bill?”

Inuyasha was mute. He was paralyzed.

“You're an eyesore, hanyou. A nuisance. A pain, and an abhorrence. The thought of the likes of you coming into my home makes me want to retch.”

“I'm not—”

“When I say you will be disqualified, I mean that you will be removed from the competition. Your name will be expunged from the records, it will be taken out of any and all reports. You will be digitally removed from the press pictures. It will be as though you were never here. You think people will talk about you? Don't flatter yourself. Who would bother to waste breath on a half breed? No one, that's who. You think they will talk about your painting? Forget it. It will be like it was never here. You were never here.” Inuyasha's jaw muscles spasmed wildly, jumping in his cheek. Oichi snorted scathingly.

“You're just way out of place here, half-breed. As if I would sully my name by associating it with yours. Float your fancies elsewhere.”

“You—you chose me,” Inuyasha whispered through clenched teeth. “You chose me from the hundreds of other entrants. You picked me—”

“And now I'm telling you to leave,” Oichi cut him off abruptly. “So shut up, get your shit off of my stage, and leave my property,” he ordered sneeringly.

The most pure kind of furious energy flowed through Inuyasha just then, in that one instant. He was ready to lash out; so ready to simply swing and catch the man in the jaw. He could do it. He was sure he could do it. He could put just the right amount of force behind the punch to knock him unconscious for hours on end. He could toy with him, batting him about the head with painful blows, but refraining from putting him to sleep. He could smash his face into the back of his skull with very little effort; it would be so easy.

“I could always have security come and escort you out,” Oichi said offhandedly. Inuyasha battled with himself for a few horribly tense moments before all of the fight rushed out of him. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, and clenched his eyes shut against the overwhelming dismay, hurt, and disappointment that flooded his system.

Straightening as much as he could, he about-faced and staggered stiffly out in front of the raised platform. He located his painting, cursed it silently, and bent to retrieve the rolled up tote from underneath the easel. With jerky, robotic movements in tiny increments of measure, he managed to shove the painting into its tote and sling it over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the handle of the bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white with the force.

Without a wayward glance in any direction, Inuyasha left the great hall, exiting as quickly as he dared in order to not cause a scene.

He wanted to hide his face.

“What number is Inuyasha, Kagome?” Sango whispered in the middle of another entrant's response to one of the judges.

“He's eleven,” she responded. “I hope he's going soon.”

“Me too!” Souta interjected. “This is getting boring,” he complained.

“Souta, sh,” his mother scolded. “Be patient. I'm sure that—”

“Number Eleven,” the judge called. “Will you please enlighten us on what inspired you to create `Women of my World'?”

Kagome smiled as Inuyasha began his answer, his voice shaking slightly, yet strong overall. She frowned as the judge interrupted him,

“One moment, please.”

“That was rude,” she grumbled.

“We are terribly sorry for the interruption. Please do not leave your seats, but allow a brief five minute intermission whilst we attend to some…technical difficulties,” the MC said suddenly over the microphone.

“I wonder what's wrong…” her grandfather wondered aloud.

Kagome frowned when Inuyasha appeared just at the edge of the heavy curtain and began to talk to the man she recognized as Goro Oichi. The conversation at the table fell to background noise as she watched what was apparently a heated exchange.

A cold feeling spread through her stomach when Inuyasha's entire body seemed to sag, and he bowed his head.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Oh, no, no, no, no…” Inuyasha walked stiffly across the stage and, in slow, deliberated movements, repacked his painting, in the end seeming to shove it into the black tote. His head was bowed as he stood and looped the strap over his head, and after what seemed like a second of acquiescence, walked at a clipped pace to the exit.

“Where's he going?” Souta asked.

“We are very for that slight delay. Now, then. On with the competition!” the MC enthused.

“Number Twenty-four,” a judge said. “What was your inspiration behind `Righteous Indignation'?”

Kagome stood, grabbing her purse.

“Kagome,” her mother began, putting a hand on her forearm.

“I have to go after him, Mom. I have to see what's wrong…see if he's okay…I think he…” She couldn't finish. Her mother nodded her understanding, a sympathetic light coming to her eyes.

“I'll go get the car,” she said softly. Kagome nodded.

“Kagome—” Sango started. “I…should we come?” she asked hesitantly. Miroku looked just as ready to jump in and help if he could. She exchanged a glance with hermother before shaking her head, no.

“No…sorry, you guys, but probably not. I'm thinking…I'm thinking he's gonna be really mad right now…I'm sorry.”

“That's fine, Kagome,” Miroku told her graciously.

“You guys can go, if you want,” she said regretfully. “Or stay and watch the rest of the competition. I'm so sorry about this.”

“It's fine. We'll go. But…just…just tell him that we were rooting for him, okay? Tell him that he's alright with us. Remind him of that,” Miroku said seriously.

“Thank you. I will,” she promised. She ran after him without a second thought, a high, nasally voice resounding through the great hall as it answered its question.

She didn't know how to approach him. She didn't even know how he'd gotten so far so fast. She'd only been a few seconds after him in leaving, and already he was off of the Oichi property, straight and rigid arms braced on the railing that circled the man made lake in front of the mansion.

He glowed. The moonlight bounced off of his unusual hair, making it gleam silver in contrast with his pitch black shirt. He'd discarded his suit jacket. That, along with his hat lay in a rumpled heap a few feet away. The tote that contained the painting lay even further than that, as though he'd flung it there. He'd unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up past his elbows. He'd yanked the elastic band from the end of his ponytail and wound it around his wrist, his hair now free from the braid. It crinkled a bit, in a fashion unusual to its norm from being held in the tight twist, and looked wild. She shivered and steeled herself, taking a deep breath to speak.

“Leave me alone,” he growled before she could get one word out.

“I—”

“Just go away.” Kagome's heart leapt into her throat at his tone.

“Inuyasha…” she began. “What…what happened?”

“Exactly what I thought would happen, Kagome,” he snapped bitingly. “I got fucking disqualified.”

“But—”

“Don't give me that bullshit about the rules not excluding hanyous!” he shouted. He still refused to face her. “It's his fucking competition, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to do!”

Kagome swallowed thickly. He was trembling with rage, undoubtedly with disappointment and hurt. She wanted to hold him, to calm him down, to soothe him. He was so incredibly volatile, though…for once, she didn't know what to do.

“Inuyasha—”

“Will you just fucking go away?” he shouted. Kagome jerked back in surprise. He'd never been so short with her; not even in the beginning when he didn't trust her. “Just leave me alone! Dammit! I don't wanna fucking see you right now!”

“You've said that before,” Kagome remembered aloud. She didn't budge. He had to know she wasn't going anywhere.

“Kami…this is the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life…” he muttered dejectedly. Kagome shut her eyes painfully. `How could I do this to him?' she thought in anguish.

“I…I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head sadly.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” he snapped.

“This whole thing…it's my fault.”

“It's not your fault,” he said shortly.

“Yes, it is! I entered you in this thing in the first place! You told me you didn't want to do it, and didn't listen!” she exclaimed. She pushed a wayward lock of hair from her face, tears becoming a very real threat now. “And, Kami, Inuyasha…I'm so sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” he bit out.

“I have to! None of this would have happened if I—”

“Shut up!” he shouted, finally whirling around to face her. Kagome gasped, her tears springing up full force now. The whites of his eyes were red and irritated, as though he'd been scrubbing too hard at them. Groups of his eyelashes clung together in tiny triangles… `Oh, Inuyasha…have you been crying?' Kagome asked him in her mind. “Just shut up! You don't have to keep fucking apologizing! It's not your fucking fault, okay? Okay? It's not your fault! It's my fault, okay?”

Kagome couldn't stop the tears that slid down her cheeks and fell onto her exposed chest. She sniffled, half from the cold and half from the situation. Inuyasha clenched his eyes shut and let out a tight breath.

“Please don't cry, Kagome,” he pleaded. “C'mon…don't go and do all that.” She ducked her head and quickly stepped closer to him, not hesitating to wrap her arms around his hard middle and bury her face into his firm chest.

“I…I don't understand how you can't blame me…” she whimpered. “If I hadn't entered you, none of this would have happened…” He cuddled her to him, his arms circling her shoulders and pulling her close. He leaned his chin atop her head.

“You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Kagome,” he sighed heavily, his chest moving her head with its expansion. “I could have just as easily not done a second piece and just left the letter alone. I wouldn't have gone for the second round if I didn't really want to,” he explained. “I'm the hanyou. I should have known better.”

“It's so unfair,” she protested. “You are just as good—no! Better! You're better than anyone in there, and you deserve—”

“Nothing,” he said hollowly. “I deserve nothing.”

“Don't say things like that!” she rebuked sharply, looking up at him. “I don't ever want to hear anything like that ever again!”

“It's the truth, Kagome. You can't…you can't keep dodging the truth…and neither can I…” He sighed. “I sometimes let myself do that with you…you make it so easy to lie to myself…but I can't keep doing that…it doesn't get me anywhere.”

“And saying things like that does?” she retorted. “Does saying things like that get you anywhere, Inuyasha?” She gripped his shirt front and shook him a bit in a futile attempt to get him out of whatever melancholy trance he was falling into.

“I just…” he continued, as though she'd said nothing. “I just was hoping that…maybe…maybe one thing would go right,” he murmured, clenching his eyes shut. “The only thing that ever went right for me was you. Everything else…it always goes wrong. Nothing ever changes,” he whispered.

“Inuyasha…”

“I'm gonna go home tonight…and my dad is gonna…” He swallowed thickly and kept on, a sick sort of smile on his face. “My dad is gonna beat the shit out of me…for being out. And I'm gonna…sit in my room…and wait for morning like I always do.” He shook his head and laughed darkly. “It just the same shit over and over, day after day, shit going wrong, more shit going wrong—”

“Inuyasha, stop,” Kagome sobbed. She pressed her face to his chest. She kissed the `v' of flesh that showed through the top two open buttons, between the two sections of his undone tie. “Please, stop.”

“I…I-I…I'm sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head. He kissed her crown, and turned his head so that he could nuzzle his cheek into the softness of her hair. “I'm sorry, I'm just…tired.”

“Then we can sleep. When you come home with me,” she beseeched, withdrawing from his embrace a bit to look at him. It was true. He looked absolutely drained. Not only physically but mentally. She had no doubt emotionally as well. The telltale dark circles that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere beneath his eyes gave him away. She noticed his hesitation. “What's wrong?”

“Everyone saw,” he whispered. “Everyone saw me get kicked out…Probably…probably your mom doesn't want me to…”

“Inuyasha, of course she does,” Kagome reassured him. “She's waiting for us at the car.” He hesitated still.

“Sango and Miroku…they saw. Are they…out there?”

“No. They left.”

“They shouldn't have come.”

“They wanted me to tell you that they were rooting for you,” she said, ignoring his comment. “They wanted you to know that you're alright with them.” Inuyasha said nothing to this, but just stared out at the water.

“I kind of…I kind of don't want to talk anymore,” he admitted quietly. “I don't want anymore words.”

“Then there won't be any,” Kagome agreed. She retrieved his jacket, hat and picture, and handed all three to him. He slung the jacket and tote over his shoulder and carelessly jammed the hat on the back of his head.

Gripping hands tightly, they walked to meet the others at the car.

Inuyasha's eyes snapped open. He craned his neck to peek at the clock. `2:43' it read. With a heavy sigh, he began the tedious task of extricating himself from Kagome's grip. He wriggled and shimmied until he could slip his arm from around her torso, into which she laid burrowed warm and close to him. He gave a weak, fond smile at the sleeping girl, still in her dress, as her head lolled against his bicep, her full lips falling open. He sneakily stole a kiss, quickly pecking her bottom lip. Gazing at her for a few moments in the darkened interior of her room, in the soft, warm confines of her small bed, wrapped in her arms, and her wrapped in his, he felt his glaring disappointment and hurt wan. He carefully laid her head against the pillow, brushing a few wisps of hair away from her peaceful face. Once out of the bed, he leaned down and tenderly kissed her forehead, and bid her goodbye, only for a few moments.

Not bothering to take his shoes, he stole out of her room and padded down the hallway, down the stairs, through the kitchen and across the foyer to his goal. The front door. He silently slid the lock open and slipped out into the silent stillness of the night, pulling the door shut behind him.

Once outside, he allowed himself to break. Almost immediately, as if they'd been waiting for him to be alone to sneak in their attack, the tears stabbed at his eyes. The overwhelming defeat and sense of failure that had hovered over him since Oichi dismissed him crashed over him with torrential force, and he almost collapsed from it. He had no more anger, no more fury, no more wrath. He staggered over to a bench on the far edge of the courtyard and slumped down onto it.

Resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in the shadow created by his own body, he allowed hot tears of disappointment and failure to course down his face and land on the now rumpled suit pants he still wore, bleeding them into an even darker gray. He sniffed occasionally, biting his lip to ensure that no unnecessary sound escaped him; he was embarrassed enough that he was crying, even if there was no one to see.

He had known this was coming, this catharsis. He'd known as soon as security had `escorted' him from the premises. It had come as soon as he was alone. The salty drops had welled fully in his eyes, and had he not caught Kagome's scent approaching, they would have fallen. He thanked every Kami he could name that he'd had time to roughly scrub his eyes dry before she could see. He never would have lived that down.

They'd almost come again when she'd started to cry; he'd almost lost it, and it was only by a small thread that he was able to hold his composure and keep himself together. He made himself a small promise that at the first opportunity, he'd let them come. He knew he couldn't hold it in forever. Not this time.

He hadn't fully realized just how high his hopes had been until the opportunity to have them realized was snatched away. Left in their wake was a deep, gaping void of unfulfilled desires and dreams he'd only recently admitted to himself that he had. He hadn't known that he could cry over something like this before; now he knew.

Perhaps it was just the fact that this letdown had been dealt just after a beating. Perhaps it was because it happened in front of hundreds of people. Perhaps it was because it had happened in front of Kagome, and above all, he wanted to impress her. Or perhaps it was simply because in his heart of hearts, he'd harbored a fervent hope to win…whatever the reason, in the aftermath of the debilitating blow, Inuyasha found that the tears did not cease when he thought they should. They only increased double fold, and he found it difficult to keep completely silent.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” came a sweet, sympathetic voice. Inuyasha's head snapped up, and he immediately pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Ah, shit…” he mumbled, recognizing at the last second that he'd used profanity in front of Kagome's mother. “Don't tell Kagome,” he blurted. The woman looked confused. He gestured awkwardly to his face. “The tears…don't, you know, tell her…it's embarrassing enough…”

“Of course I won't.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For cursing…and…I didn't mean to wake you. I thought I was quiet.”

“Oh, you were. But you didn't wake me. I was already up. You passed right by me on your way through the kitchen,” she explained. She held out a deep mug full of hot cocoa to him, taking a sip out of one herself. “Here you go.”

“Not really in the mood for anything,” he muttered.

“That's okay. I had already had some made up for myself. I just figured I'd bring you a mug. May I?” she asked, motioning to the length of space next to him.

“It's your house,” he shrugged, looking away.

“Well, I know that, Sweetie. But you may have wanted some time alone. I was wondering if you'd like some company?” Again, he shrugged.

“Sure.” Mrs. Higurashi seated herself beside him, cupping her mug between both hands and hunching her shoulders, the collar of her mint-green fleece robe bunching up to her ears.

“You know you don't have to,” she began softly. “But if you'd like to talk…I'm free to listen,” she offered. Inuyasha picked up the mug, warming his hands with the heated ceramic. `Yeah, right,' he thought.

He was quiet for exactly three-hundred and seventy eight seconds. Mrs. Higurashi was just too convenient and willing to listen for him to pass up.

“I really thought I had a chance,” he started, his voice barely audible. “To win, I mean,” he clarified. “I…it didn't have to be first…but…I thought I'd at least place, you know? It…it was going so good—nobody knew what I was for all that time…I thought I was getting away with it.”

He knew the exact moment when he'd been found out. When that girl, Aoko, had recognized him from Mr. Akuran's class the previous year. He knew then that she knew. For some reason, he hadn't thought that she would…but then, he supposed she had no reason not to. He was her competition, and if she had any dirt on him to get him disqualified, then surely she'd use it.

“I just really wanted to get that damn scholarship…” he whispered fiercely, another tear slipping down his cheek. Mrs. Higurashi surprised him by gently brushing the drop away with the knuckle of her index finger. He glanced sadly at her, grateful to her for so much in that one instant.

“I thought maybe…I could show it to my brother and my dad. Thought…I thought it might make them proud of me, you know? And…and you know the stupid thing?” He gave a short laugh through his tears. “I actually…actually started thinking of myself as a college boy. Thinking maybe I could go to school and get smarter…then they wouldn't think of me as such a damned failure…” he whispered, his voice dropping off until Mrs. Higurashi could barely hear him. “I wanted…Kagome to be proud…she was so sure I'd win.”

“Kagome is proud of you, Honey,” Mrs. Higurashi insisted, speaking for the first time during the course of his monologue. She placed a soothing hand on his back gently, hoping he wouldn't pull away from comfort. “She's so very proud of you. And so am I. And so is Souta and Grandpa…we're all proud of you. You did a very brave thing tonight, Sweetheart. Showcasing something that important to you couldn't have been easy—”

“And that just makes it that much worse,” he interrupted. He shook his head. “I spent so much damned time on that stupid thing—”

“That's where you've got to stop, Sweetheart,” Mrs. Higurashi cut in. She set her cocoa mug down and lightly grasped his chin between her thumb and index knuckle, turning his head to face her, much like her daughter had so many times before. He gaped at her, surprised. “Listen to me, Inuyasha. You are one of the strongest young men that I know. And in order to keep that strength, you cannot let these people get into your head.”

“That painting was breathtaking. You have a true gift. Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Don't let anyone make you think that what you do is stupid. It's not. You be confident in your talent. You keep that strength in here,” she instructed, tapping his forehead lightly, “and in here.” She tapped his chest, just above his heart. She smiled fondly at him. “Everything happens for a reason, Sweetie. Just remember that when one door closes, another one opens. You've just got to keep pressing.”

Author's Note:

Oh, man, please don't kill me!!! Just review…heh heh…I assure you, I'm not done with our little artist just yet. I've still got more in store for him.

HOLY-CANOLY!!!!! 52 pages?!? FIFTY-TWO PAGES?!?!? Oh, that definitely deserves some reviews…please? Heh heh.

Just think: Inuyasha in a trilby hat? Too cute!

Cry! Vent! Rant! Do whatever! But above all, review! It's okay, I can handle it…I think.

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