Speed Racer Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love, Life, and Reincarnations ❯ Sun and Moon, Day and Night ( Chapter 7 )

"Come on in," Torie stated. "Welcome to our humble abode."

Rachel Racer smiled a little at the joke the younger woman made. If the O'Connell matriarch wanted to call a historic, three-story house with a two-car garage and a yard large enough for children to play in humble, who was she to argue? Even the inside held a feeling of grandeur. At least, the woodwork and the light fixtures suggested some grandeur. The pictures on the wall were in simple wooden and metallic frames.

"Are these your children?" she inquired as they passed various school pictures.

"Only four of them are mine," Torie replied then pointed to them as they walked by. "Sesshomaru Hakkai, Ryan Michael Evan the Second, Inuyasha Kenshin, and Anna Renee' Lea. The rest are nieces and nephews, siblings and cousins."

"It's quite the family," the Racer matriarch smiled. "Is that why you have such a large house?"

"Kinda . . . most of my family lives in Michigan while Ryan's lives in California, Japan, and Ireland . . . The kids' rooms are throughout the second, third, and fourth floors. We have four guest rooms, and the rest have been turned into studios," she explained.

"Studios?"

"Yeah . . . My husband is an illustrator and animator so we have a room for him to work in. My youngest son is following in his footsteps so we have a room set up for him as well. We have a dance and martial arts studio in the basement, a room on the fourth floor for them to practice their instruments, and a place for me and my daughter to sew."

She led them into the living room where a dark-haired youth sat with a sandwich, a handful of cheese crackers, and a glass of milk. Rachel cringed at the long, slender gash that graced his nose and upper left cheek. If he'd been her son, she'd challenge the other child's parents as well. He looked up as they walked in.

"Inuyasha, this is Rachel and Richard Racer . . . Mr. and Mrs. Racer, this is my youngest son, Inuyasha."

"Hi," the boy smiled weakly, almost shyly.

"Hello, Inuyasha," Rachel nodded, smiling back. She'd heard her son ranting as they'd packaged up the cookies. If she were to go by his appearance, she would've had to agree with Speed. Inuyasha, with his black t-shirt and black jeans, and shoulder-length hair, had the appearance of a trouble-maker. But his mannerisms were that of a quiet, quite possibly shy, young man. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "A little tired but okay."

"Which is why he needs to eat," his mother supplied. "Have a seat and I'll fix something for us real quick."

Rachel took the other container from her husband as she said, "I'll help you, dear." When the younger woman started to protest, she cut Torie off. "I have no objections to helping out my host or hostess. Besides, I want to see your kitchen in this `humble' abode of yours," Rachel winked. To that, Torie chuckled.

"Very well then. The kitchen is this way. Mr. Racer, please have a seat anywhere and don't mind when my husband comes back with the dogs. They're an enthusiastic bunch."

Rachel followed Torie as she made her way to the kitchen. She had a thousand questions, it seemed, buzzing around in her mind. Torie had told them that her children were active, but the pictures on the walls had indicated more. Much more.

"Here we are!" Torie announced. Rachel's eyes widened at how immense the kitchen was. She couldn't guess the dimensions of it, but it housed an island stove, a small deep freezer, a wide refrigerator loaded with magnets and artwork, counter space to spare, a walk-in pantry, a dishwasher, and cupboards a plenty. The O'Connell matriarch also had plenty of room to move around in.

"This kitchen," she breathed, "is huge."

"Yeah . . . we kind of need it that way," Torie explained, pulling sandwich makings out of the fridge and cupboards. "Makes it easier to have the kids help us when we're cooking."

"You don't have your own cook?"

"Nope. Don't need one," Torie replied. "Ryan and I both know how to cook, have perfected certain recipes that the other doesn't know how to prepare, and we're teaching our children. I mean, I know we can afford to have one and a maid to do the cleaning but then I wouldn't be able to find anything!"

"Speaking of your children . . . are they involved in any school activities?"

"Oh yeah . . . All of them are in the National Honour Society, all participate in the school plays in one way or another. Ryan and I insisted on dance lessons and for them to learn martial arts, which he taught them . . . Sesshomaru is running to be the class president and creative writing club president, is a member of the chess club, golf and soccer teams, runs track, and is on the Forensics team." She paused to pour them a drink. "He's also in the high school jazz band."

"What are his grades like?" Rachel inquired. "And how many instruments does he play?"

"All of the kids play three instruments. Guitar and piano then an instrument of their choice. Sesshomaru plays the clarinet and carries a four point," she answered. "Little Ryan and Inuyasha are in the jazz band and creative writing club as well. But Little Ryan is into sports. Big time into sports. He plays baseball, basketball, football, volleyball . . . He's thinking of joining the Forensics team this year. Plays the alto sax for the jazz band. Likes to be extremely competitive with his older brother, especially academically."

By now, they had made four sandwiches, put the cookies on top of the fridge, and dumped some cheese crackers into a bowl. Torie began to pour some more drinks then proceeded to put everything away. Rachel marveled at her efficiency.

"And Inuyasha?" Rachel prompted.

"Plays the violin, is in the Odyssey of the Mind, works on the yearbook, and takes fencing lessons. Out of all my children, he's the quickest to curl up next to me when I'm reading a book or watching a movie and he's also the shyest. If he really wants to, he can pull off anti-social extremely well. He's the one I really need to be careful with at the beginning of the school year and each semester."

"And why's that?" She picked up a tray. Torie had arranged everything neatly.

"Because I don't want him to fail English," came the reply. "Each year has been the same. `Mom, English is boring. Mom, why do I have to take this? Mom, I want you to teach me . . .' It's been like that since he was eleven and started middle school."

"What did you do?"

"Had him test out of English each year then home-schooled him on that subject alone. His teachers just couldn't keep his attention or his interest. But his teachers understood, especially since I've worked with them in the past."

"Moms do make the best teachers," she chuckled. "And that leaves Anna . . ."

"Yeah . . . My baby . . . A cheerleader, a swimmer, and an active volleyball and tennis player. She plays the flute for band."

"And they all manage to get good grades?" At Torie's nod, Rachel felt flabbergasted and exclaimed, "How do you keep up? I don't think I could've handle everything, especially with four children so close in age!"

"Ask me that after Anna graduates in five years. I'm not sure I know!"

They both chuckled at that then entered the living room.

* * *

"I can't believe this!" Speed fumed, pacing back and forth in the living room of his new home. "His first day of school, he gets in trouble, and the child responsible isn't even going to be punished! How can his mother be so blind as to what he is?!"

"Relax, Speed," his best friend, Sparky, soothed. "She is his mother and all mothers tend to give their children the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. He plopped into a chair. "I've just never had anyone question my judgment on a person's character. That kid is one of those goth kids, and you know how much trouble they were in Farmington Hills!"

Sparky merely nodded, his expression thoughtful. Speed leaned his head back.

"Mrs. O'Connell is right about one thing, Speed," the red-haired man finally spoke. "Greg did break the school's rules. He shouldn't have shoved the kid into an open locker door. I know you don't want to hear it, but it is the truth."

"I'll talk with him when he gets home," he stated irritably. "Believe me, I'm not happy about this."

"I know . . . What time are your kids going to be home?"

"Not sure," Speed replied. "Greg was talking about trying for football, and Danielle and Catherine were going to see if there were cheerleader try-outs."

"Anything else?" Sparky inquired.

"Not right this moment," he sighed. "I don't want to overburden them after moving here."

"Well, that makes sense. Where are your parents, Speed?"

"Would you believe visiting with the O'Connells? They even took cookies. To `smooth things' over with them."

"Didn't they take cookies to everyone?"

"Yeah . . . They were packing the containers for the O'Connells when Trixie and I were telling them about what had happened," he replied. "They weren't too happy to hear about it, either."

"Nor should we be," a female voice interjected. Both men looked up to see his parents standing in the door. His mother's lips were tight and her eyes narrowed slightly. Pops had a disapproving scowl on his face. "Greg has a lot to answer for, Speed. What he did was cruel. Flat out cruel."

"Mother," he began, rising to his feet, "Inuyasha is as much to blame as my son is!"

"How?" she retorted heatedly. "That boy has stitches on his face, Speed. On his face! He could have been blinded in one eye! How can you justify that?!"

"She's right, Speed," Pops added as Speed opened his mouth to protest. "You can't justify what Greg has done. Even if Inuyasha had mouthed off to Greg, he had turned away when Greg shoved him. That's not defending, that's attacking."

"Inuyasha is a trouble-maker," Speed stated obstinately. "I can tell these things, Mother. Nothing about the boy will get me to change my mind!"

"Even if you're proven wrong?" his mother inquired quietly.

"I'm never wrong about kids like Inuyasha." Before anyone could say anything, he stormed out of the room then out of the house.

* * *

Greg Racer, Jr., stared out the windshield at the traffic before him. Today had not been a good day for him. He and his siblings had started school today in a new city. A city where he hadn't wanted to be in the first place. That alone had been bad enough for him, but, being a bit of a hot-head, he had compounded things by shoving a freshman into a locker door then getting into a fight with the kid's older twin brother. That got him in trouble at school, which meant he was now in trouble with his parents and grandparents.

`Damn, damn, damn,' he thought as traffic slowly inched forward. `Why did I have to shove that kid? Why'd I have to lie about it? He wasn't doing anything except walking to his next class.'

The fact that the freshman had been rather goth-looking had no bearing on his actions. It had been what spurred his twin sister, Danielle, on, but not him. When he'd been a freshman in high school, it had. He'd wanted to be like his father, after all, and his father had sworn up and down that goth kids were nothing but trouble, had been saying it for as long as Greg could remember. They were the ones who stole and painted graffiti everywhere. Not a single one of them was drug-free. However, when he had started playing football - at his father's insistence - Greg had learned a hard lesson. The graffiti had been done by his teammates and the shoplifting . . . they were more responsible than all of the kids dressed in black. As he got older, he had started sneaking out of the house, and heading for the usual goth hang-outs. And he'd been thankful that his parents had never found out.

`Now I have to do it all over again,' he groused to himself. His brother and sisters had remained silent during the duration of the drive until their street finally came into view. Conversation began between Catherine and Danielle but he ignored them. His parents and grandparents were going to be irate with him as it was. `Might as well get it over with.'

In a matter of minutes, he had pulled into the driveway of their new home. His parents were waiting on the porch for him. So were his grandparents. His day, he believed, had just gotten worse.

* * *

Inuyasha sighed as he made his way to second hour math. As usual, there was much jostling and crowding in the hallways, much noise as his fellow students laughed and talked with each other. Some cast sympathetic glances towards him but most ignored him. That's how high school life went for him and it suited him just fine. The less he had to do with them, the better.

"Hey, Vash!"

He smiled slightly as he heard Jade's voice call out his nickname. Next to Trysten, Jade was his best friend, someone whom he could confide in. Sometimes it felt like he'd known the dark-haired girl his entire life, though it had only been five years since he'd met her. Jade had a strange penchant, though, for wearing a white baboon costume at least twice a week. When he glanced back at her, he groaned then shook his head. She had it on. Today was going to be one of those days.

"Hey, Jade," he smiled. "Feeling particularly baboon-ish today?"

"Always," she smirked. "How's your head?"

"Okay, I guess," Inuyasha shrugged. He resumed walking to his class. Jade fell into step with him.

"Okay? Dude, you went head first into a locker door!" Jade exclaimed. Inuyasha shook his head.

"It's nothing, Jade. It aches a little bit, but it's nothing."

"If you say so . . ."

"I do," he nodded. He adjusted his beret some then stepped into the classroom, Jade right behind him. For being his least favourite subject, he managed to get through the hour rather well, having minimal homework at the end.

"Man, that class is killer," Jade moaned as they walked to his locker. "How much of the assignment did you get done, Vash?"

"I have ten problems left. Better than what I normally have when class is over," he replied. "Mom will be happy about that."

"That she will," the dark-haired girl agreed then frowned. "What's that?"

Seeing what she had referred to, Inuyasha grabbed a piece of paper that had been taped to his locker. He unfolded it and read it before crumpling the note into a ball, and shoving it into his pocket. Jade gave him a questioning look.

"It's nothing," he replied hastily. "I'll tell you later."

"Inuyasha . . ."

He paused for a moment. His hands were shaking, and he had to get them to stop. Jade's hand rested on his shoulder.

"I'm all right, Jade," he murmured, slowly opening his locker door. He duly tried ignoring the dull ache and dizziness that had begun to assault his head.

"I know," Jade stated softly. "Just check it, okay? The last thing you need to get shipped out again."

"Okay, okay," Inuyasha growled, twisting his wrist slightly to check his glucometer. It had become a rather semi-permanent attachment of his the year he had turned ten, and he'd hated it then. Still hated it but there had been no getting around not wearing it. He had to check his sugar every hour on the hour and this had been the solution. Exhaling softly, Inuyasha reached into a lunch bag, retrieving a cheese and beef stick combo pack, and an eight ounce orange juice. Some days he just really hated his life.

* * *

Greg cast a glance at his watch then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He'd taken a huge risk in contacting Inuyasha. Catherine or Danielle could see him, but, if it came down to it, he had the perfect story to tell his parents if they were told about him talking to the freshman.

`And it won't be too far from the truth, either,' he added silently, finally catching a glimpse of a dark-haired kid approaching him.

"I'm here," a soft voice stated. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Greg took a small moment to appraise Inuyasha's appearance. Onyx-hued hair that reached his shoulders, amethyst eyes, and an amazing ensemble of black clothing - black dress shirt, black suit jacket, black jeans . . . even his beret was black. The only contrast to Inuyasha's appearance was the gash on his face.

`Wonder if his parents make him dress like that every now and then, or if it's his choice. I know my parents tell me what to wear,' he thought ruefully.

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously. "I want to . . . apologize for yesterday. I was rather upset about being here and took a bit of my frustration out on you then your brother. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry."

The younger student mulled his words over then slowly nodded his head. Greg waited patiently for him to say something.

"Apology accepted," Inuyasha stated, his voice still remaining soft. "But that can't be the only reason why you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah," he nodded. "You're right about that . . . I need your help."

"My help?" Inuyasha echoed.

"Mm-hmmm . . . As you know, my family's new here," Greg explained, "so I have to be very careful in the friends that I choose."

"Why's that?"

"My parents. They expect me to be the sports hero in our family."

"And maintain good grades?"

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "I really don't mind playing sports, but I don't like hanging around other jocks."

"I can understand that," Inuyasha frowned thoughtfully, "though most of the jocks in this school aren't that bad. None of them are in trouble, anyway. School has some very strict policies about drug use, defacing public property, and shoplifting. A lot of the kids here have relatives who are on the police force."

"And the school goths?" he inquired. "Are they in trouble a lot?"

"No," the freshman shook his head. "There are trouble-makers in each class, but they don't belong to any given `group', so to speak. Why don't you like other jocks as friends if you're one yourself?"

"Because the jocks in Farmington Hills were thieves who never got caught or in trouble," he said with some heat. "A lot of the goth kids got in trouble because of them."

"I see . . . you're a closet goth, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?" Greg blinked. Inuyasha shrugged.

"Your tone . . . and the fact that your parents aren't standing over you, making you apologize to me," he smirked slightly. "I take it you want a way around your dilemma. Right?"

"Yeah . . . my dad detests goths."

"So I've gathered . . . All right, here's what you do then . . . Slowly change how you dress. Regular jeans and plain black tees normally suffice."

"But my parents," Greg protested.

"Won't know any different," Inuyasha interrupted. "A lot of the jocks wear plain black tees or black jerseys with blue jeans. If you still need the preppy look, this," he gestured to his own clothing, "is the way to go. You don't have to be over the top to be goth. Believe it or not, not all goths look goth."

"What's that supposed to mean?' Greg demanded, feeling slightly bewildered at Inuyasha's attitude.

"You'll see," came the enigmatic reply. "I have to go. I have O.M. tonight."

Inuyasha disappeared back into the building before anything more could be said. Greg stared at the doors where the freshman had retreated to.

"Well," he told himself, "I got the advice that I wanted . . . I guess. I can take it or leave it."

Greg pulled his car keys out of his pocket. He had a little shopping to do.

* * *

Sesshomaru watched the exchange between his brother and Greg Racer with a certain amount of impassiveness. He had an idea as to what they were discussing, especially when Inuyasha gestured to his clothes. When his half-brother re-entered the school, he resumed his run.

`Well, little brother,' he smirked to himself, `it seems as if you've made a friend out of a potential enemy. Now only if Danielle would pick up on my hints and leave me alone.'

As he jogged, Sesshomaru lost himself in thought. Not too deeply as to forget to pay attention to his surroundings but contemplative enough to make some of his own guesses on the Racer children, at least on Greg and Danielle. He hadn't met the younger two. Yet.

`Day and night, sun and moon . . . Each powerful in its own right . . . Mother's night. Always has been. Just like Dad's always been day. The Racers' . . . they're day with only a hint of night. They're not going to be able to handle Mom and Dad's combined forces. They're used to having whatever they say go, they practically expect it. But what will happen when the night proves to be mightier than the day? What then?'

Sesshomaru paused for a moment to catch his breath. He'd always thought of his parents as day and night. They had the looks and the personalities for it. But they had always made sure for their children to know that they had to earn whatever it was that they wanted. Just because his parents were famous, in their own rights, didn't mean that their children would have it easy. He'd had a job working at a movie theater since he'd turned sixteen. Before that, he'd worked at one of his parents' restaurants, as his brothers and sister currently did. And he knew that his brothers would be putting applications in at various places over the next year, if they didn't want to continue working for their parents. The new students' behaviours today re-affirmed his belief about their family. The Racers were strictly sun . . . daylight.

`And in for a very rude awakening, if they think they can do and say whatever they feel like without any consequences. Mom and Dad are fighters. Always have been, and they will stand up to these people.'

With a pang of sadness, he knew that things were no longer going to be the same, especially for his half-brother. It always happened, when day began to threaten the night.

* * *

Speed glanced at the piece of paper in his hand, his hand hovering over his now-connected telephone. Not one to hesitate, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Inspector Detector? Speed Racer . . . Yeah, everything's fine. Listen, I need for you to do me a favour . . ."