Author's Note: I am so sorry to everyone for this disgustingly late upadate! School has been horrible in the past few weeks, but I'm back now for the summer and ready to write. I also had a nasty case of writer's block that is gone now. Whew! Anyway, enjoy chapter 4 and please REVIEW!

Chapter 4
Orange Popsicles and No Regrets

“An important lesson in life is to never regret. No matter what your decisions were, or how horrible a situation you find yourself in, live each day to the fullest. Embrace each moment and remember them without rue. Rejoice, remember.”

—And I had always thought that was a load of bull. And it turned out I was absolutely correct.

Tokyo Japan: Past

Kagome’s work prevented her from coming home for several weeks, and by the time she was able to visit us (dressed immaculately from head to toe in Prada) summer vacation had already begun. I was worn out from the end of the first semester and entertained thoughts of sandy beaches and freshly sliced watermelons wholeheartedly. My grades were high enough to satisfy Mama, stopped her from launching into a tirade at least.

I laid low for the first few days, sulking around the apartment, blaming the hot weather for horrible mood swings and antics. Mama paid no attention. Her mind was completely revolved around Kagome’s return (she reminded us of that every day) and obsessed the day away with cleaning and other preparations. My brother Souta had returned already from university and fared no better under Mama’s vulture-sharp eyes. In fact, she had pressured him into doing “degrading, menial tasks that were a serious waste of tuition costs.” Mama didn’t bat an eye, merely told him to dust the ceiling corners since he was so high-and-mighty already.

To humor both of them (or simply to avoid incurring their wraths) I slipped out of the apartment by the end of the first week and only returned as the afternoon heat turned especially dreadful with an armful of ice cream and popsicles. Souta and I would fight over the orange ones while Mama berated us for acting like urchins.

“Whatever, Mama, it’s not like Souta needs to get any fatter.”

“Excuse me? Rin, I’m a man. A growing man who needs his food! And what about you? Getting a bit pudgy in the stomach eh?”

He jabbed at my concave belly playfully.

“Rin, I want you to take a shower and put on a nice dress. And comb your hair. Honestly, you prance around wearing a rag on top of your head!”

“What for?”

Mama eyed me with daggers. “Sesshoumaru is meeting us tonight. And so is Kagome. I want you to look presentable.”

“But you said Kagome won’t be back for another two weeks, at least!” I yelped indignantly.

“Well, apparently she changed her mind,” Mama replied sarcastically.

“Can’t we just….not go?”

“No arguing. Just get into the shower, Rin. Please. And Souta, get me a gin and tonic.”

My brother sniggered and dashed into the kitchen. Fetching drinks for Mama meant snipping some shameless alcohol for himself too.

“So…where are we going tonight?” I asked, attempting to make small-talk with my family (we’re infamous for being brusque to the point of coldness).

“I have no idea, Rin, stop bothering me, please. Sesshoumaru will be sending a car around seven so just get ready!”

I glanced at my wrist and read the time: five thirty. Great. Wonderful. And here I was naively envisioning a quiet evening at home laughing my head off with Souta.

“Can’t I just go in jeans and a T-shirt?”

“No.”

“How about a lacy bra and matching panties?”

“Rin!”

“Okay, okay. Just kidding. I’ll….go find something ‘presentable’.”

I emerged from a cloak of shower-mist and subtle perfume ten minutes before seven. My hair was strangely sleek and twisted up into an elegant chignon, and I was even wearing my nicest summer dress. That ought to please Mama.

“What are you wearing?”

“A dress, Mama, like you asked.”

“It’s vulgar, like what? Pieces of shredded rags?”

“It’s silk, Mama. Silk. You know, like that really dumb, overpriced stuff you like so much?”

“Cheap silk. Where did you get it?”

I sighed dramatically, “Nowhere. Just forget it. So what would you like to choke me in?”

“You know how I don’t like that kind of attitude.”

“Whatever.”

“Stop it, Rin. I won’t have you being disrespectful tonight. The Taishous are a very powerful family; they’re not to be trifled with!”

“Mama, I’m not ‘trifling’ with them. I’m not doing anything.”

“Then go get dressed, appropriately.”

I followed her order but grudgingly. My stomping down the hall, just like a typical teenager in a tantrum, alerted my family the extent of my displeasure. Souta, unfazed and caught in the heat of the moment (video-games), deigned to give me the slightest acknowledgement—his fingers paused for a second before smashing down more buttons. Mama continued to hum her lighthearted tune and completely blocked me out. I exhaled as loudly as if to say that I were above all of this, this mundane, close-knit suburban vision of the ideal family we’re trying to force out.

Slamming the door behind me, I threw my limp body upon my bed and screamed into the pillow. My mind was going crazy with frustration and anger. Retrospectively, I was little more than an ill-tempered teenage girl, mad at the world at her family at her sister’s upcoming—unavoidable—marriage to the most vexing man in the world. I felt like my small dynamic family, despite our petty alliances (Souta and I versus Mama and Kagome usually), was about to disintegrate because of the arrival of an unwanted entity. I swore up and down every morning that I hated Kagome passionately that I wished someone—anyone else—were my sister. But now that I was really faced with the prospect of losing her, I was going mad and wanted nothing more than to hold her done and scream some sense into her head.

An hour later, suitably dressed (I had to change three more times to please Mama), Mama and I left the house. I was about to hail for a cab when she shook her head and indicated a long-stretch limousine parked out front. Flabbergasted at this blatant display of ritzy, pretentious asshole-ness, I allowed Mama to walk me over and into the car. The entire ride to the Taishou residence, done by rote after all those trips, was awkward and annoying. Mama kept trying to adjust my dress, picked up some invisible lint and smoothed out some more imaginary wrinkles. I avoided her to the best I could, pushed her busy hands away and gave her my ugliest glares. Mama only laughed and warned me that if I continued doing that my face would freeze in that position. I was not amused.

“I still don’t understand why we’re going anyway. I mean, they’re already getting married aren’t they?”

“It’s to talk about some final details and for the two families to get to know each other some more,” Mama replied. I could tell she was lying immediately from the way she kept craning her neck to look outside the tinted window.

“Oh well, that makes so much sense! It’s not like there’s no professional wedding planner already on the job or that you and Izayoi-san haven’t been seeing each other practically every other day for the past month! I totally understand, Mama. We have to make a good impression.”

My mother blushed at having been caught in her charade. I smirked and ensconced myself into the plush seat.

“Rin, does it bother you that much?”

“Does what?”

“Kagome marrying Sesshoumaru. Why do you hate him so much?”

“It doesn’t bother me; I could care less. And I don’t hate him. I think he’s just some stupid prick. Some rich, spoiled stupid prick.”

“Then why are you planning to sabotage their wedding?”

I froze wondering how she could possibly know. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone, and it’s not like I can actually implement my plans. For all I know there’ll be mafia guards stationed at all entrances during the ceremony.

“I’m not. I’m really happy for her. Honestly. They totally deserve each other.”

Mama frowned. “That’s not very nice. He’s a very good match for her.”

“You mean for you. Oh come off it! You just want them married because his family will be a great advantage for business. You just want his money.”

“That’s not true. He loves Kagome dearly.”

I laughed harshly. I didn’t believe Sesshoumaru capable of loving anyone then or ever. He was cold, cruel, and there was something inhuman about him that I despised. Something alien and uneasy, even more unnerving than the fact that he was a daiyoukai wanting to marry a simple human girl. But I didn’t have much time to contemplate the portents of their distasteful marriage. The chauffeur was already opening the door, bowed, and led us up unfamiliar steps.

The Taishous owned numerous houses all over Japan (three located in and around Tokyo). The place for tonight was one of Kagome’s favorite, just outside of the city and surrounded with looming, lush trees. And it was the only one we haven’t visited yet. There was a feeling of traditions and ancestry here. The house was built in the early seventeenth century, completely modeled to fit the idealized Japanese home. We walked in, solemn and awed at the expansive atmosphere, and immediately I felt a foreboding sense of dread. Like some curse or death recently visited, I couldn’t relax here. I felt like I was walking over the body of a corpse. Mama, as usual, chatted quietly with one of the Taishous’ oldest attendants, a frog youkai named Jaken. Jaken, as per his usual, ignored me with haughty contempt and managed to make some snide comments about how I was a disgrace, even for humans. For a diminutive youkai who stood well below my waist, he was a feisty, ferocious one. But Kagome told me that he was just all steam and if you ignored him, he would stop—eventually. I have yet to test out that theory.

“So Jaken-sama, how have you been?”

“Insolent human!”

“I think you’re looking better today, less green at least.”

“How dare you!”

And that was the culmination of our thirty-second conversation. However, he had taken a strange liking to Mama (tolerated Kagome under threats from Sesshoumaru). I joked to Mama before that Jaken had a crush on her.

“Oh, Jaken-sama, don’t mind Rin. She’s being particularly cranky today. This is such a beautiful place! How often do the Taishous stay here?”

“Often enough before,” he gave me a sly grin, “But this is the first time they have stayed here in almost two hundred years. Except for Izayoi-sama, of course, being the human she is.”

My skin crawled. Two hundred years. I was consumed with all sorts of horrific speculations on why that was. Maybe this place was haunted, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Maybe someone had died here and his soul sunk into the walls and was now…Okay, Rin, get a grip.

“Is that so?” I said.

“There has been only one human before your family to ever enter this place. She died.”

My heart was in my throat now. My skin prickled with bumps and not just because of the cool evening air. I wanted to run out of here screaming, but composed myself. I gave him a disdainful look.

“Old wives’ tales. You’re trying to scare me, Jaken-sama, and it’s not working.”

“Feh, whatever you say, human girl. Just wait. I predict something horrible will happen to you tonight.”

“If by horrible you mean I murder you then yes.”

“What did you say!”

“Nothing, and look, we’re here. Go open the door like a good manservant.”

We crossed the threshold, the room separated from the corridor by elegant shoji screens. The thin rice paper was decorated by elaborate designs, frail and yellow-masked from age. Jaken parted the doors and bowed. Mama and I entered, marveling at the beautiful room. It was simplicity in the finest: fresh eight tatami mats padded our feet (large enough to boast wealth but modest enough for an intimate gathering). There was a large, low-sitting lacquered mahogany table in the center with cushions laid all around it. Set for eight, I counted. But who was the extra place for? I recognized the Taishous immediately. Sweet Izayoi sitting next to her husband, pouring tea from the antique ceramic pot. Inuyasha and his father argued jocosely back and forth about some sports event, no that was a definite foul. Sesshoumaru and Kagome were quiet; she was smiling and he was glaring, nothing surprising about that. But there was a mystery man there too. Wizened and stooped with age, the old youkai drank down the tea and thanked Izayoi kindly.

His face was sharp and bony. The skin was all stretched over his cheekbones, and wrinkles lined every part of his facial surface. His eyes bugged out too prominently, giving him the appearance of a fly. Messy, white hair was tied loosely back in the traditional man’s topknot. Despite his ancient appearance, he spoke with vitality and wise humor. I liked this man immediately and soon learned that his name was Toutousai, a weaponry manufacturer for youkai. As to why he was attending a premarital dinner was still a puzzle.

“Hitomi!” Izayoi called out and waved for us to come over, “sit, sit. It’s so good to see you again.”

I giggled. Women were so funny. They greeted each other like it had been a century since they last met when it’s only been a few days.

“And Rin, you look so wonderful.”

“Thank you,” I replied politely.

Inuyasha thumped the cushion next to him, indicating that I was to sit there. I sank into the soft silks and gave him a playful shove. Kagome frowned, and Sesshoumaru openly snarled. I averted his domineering gaze, leaned heavily into Inuyasha, but I couldn’t calm down. I hated this house, everything. From all the ornate antique furniture to the posh décor, this house was like a burden, trapping me here. I repeatedly downed cup after cup of sake, all the while noting the strange, worried expressions I was receiving. For all I know, the Taishous must think that I was practically alcoholic by now. By the fifth cup, Izayoi diplomatically took my cup away and replaced it with a glass of water. Mama was shaking from anger, but Inuyasha couldn’t stop laughing. To ease things up, Touga cracked some jokes, which everyone (except for Sesshoumaru) laughed at politely.

After dinner (a full-on twelve course meal, I felt like I was about to burst), Inuyasha offered to show me around the estate. I hesitated at first. Night was falling and the surrounding woods were like ominous shadows about to devour us, and the rustling wind became dangerous whispers. I followed him out to the terrace behind the house. The path weaved down to a little door. Inuyasha opened it quietly and we walked outside. The air was chilling by now despite it’s already in the middle of summer. I shivered, and he offered me his jacket. It was soft and fluffy like puppy fur. We sat uncomfortably in silence for a long time, neither of us willing to break the silence.

“So. Your sister and my brother,” he said suddenly.

“Oh yeah,” I answered, snapping out of my dazed spell, “How’s it going for you guys?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Same old shit. Sesshoumaru’s being an ass, that’s a given. Mom’s going crazy planning everything even though the planner told her not to worry about it. My dad’s been really calm about stuff. I don’t know, it almost feels like he’s purposely not getting involved.”

“That’s good at least! I mean, one sane person the family,” I laughed, “It’s the same with us. Okay, two actually, me and Souta. Did I tell you that Mama’s been cleaning for like weeks straight prepping for Kagome’s welcome-home?”

“Doesn’t faze me one bit. But your mom is still pretty chill, lets you do whatever you want.”

“Umm, I guess. What? Is your family all proper and prim?”

“Sometimes, some of them. Dad doesn’t care so much but his family goes way back to the Feudal Era. I think we were a daimyou family.”

“Haha, Inuyasha. Bragging won’t score you any points.”

“I’m not trying to score.”

“I know. I just—”

“But I was thinking, Rin—”

He walked closer. I did too. We were an inch apart.

“I was thinking.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go out.”

Tokyo, Japan: Present

Sesshoumaru, to my astonishment, drove to the restaurant personally. Like he was expecting me to come along with him acquiescently, quietly, as if I were a puppet he could control. And maybe that was so, but I didn’t care because I was going to see him after so long. My heart thumped frantically in my chest; the waves hit me, shocked me with unbearable anxiety and numbing pain. I yearned to see him, to know that he is fine, and that this wasn’t just another one of Sesshoumaru’s games.

“So…where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence.

“Or you could just tell me now.”

“You’ll see.”

“How’s…business?”

“Good.”

“Okay. And you?”

“Rin. Stop it.”

“What?”

A flash of annoyance crosses his face.

“Interrogating me. I’m taking you to see him, aren’t I?”

“I know. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We pulled up to a stop onto a nondescript house. The driveway was newly paved, a cobbled, artistic rendition like that of a Picasso work. The cubic stones were peach, beige, and a sandy white. I thought they were just a bit too pretty, too natural for a Tokyo home. Sesshoumaru walked up the steps, silently telling me to follow. He rang the doorbell, and a petite woman in her twenties opened. Her hands were stuffed in her apron’s pockets, bunched with what seemed like hidden treats. A boy of around four or five came running to see her, zigzagged between her legs, obtained a cookie, and ran away again.

“Sesshoumaru-sama, it’s a pleasure to see you,” the woman said, “It’s very nice to see you again. Bankotsu will be finished soon. I’m just rinsing up the dinner dishes, please come in.”

Sesshoumaru nodded and entered. I followed behind like an uncertain shadow, nearly clinging to him out of confused desperation. The woman led us through her house until we were right outside the kitchen. She re-tied her apron and continued to wash dishes. Her little son raced towards her and burrowed his face between her skirts but not before looking up curiously at the intruders. A man soon entered from another door, leading—I assumed—into a study. He leaned down to kiss her. She blushed and sprayed him playfully with some soapy water.

“Sesshoumaru!” the man greeted in a booming voice. His long black braids shone under the brilliant lighting. There was a twinkle in his eyes, a wicked glimmer I knew too well.

Again, my heart raced, head swam dizzily, and my body started to shake. I knew that voice. I heard it—still hear it—every night. I drew back into the dimly lit doorway, hoping to make myself invisible.

“Bankotsu,” Sesshoumaru nodded.

“Should’ve told me you were coming earlier, you jerk. I was all tied up at the office, taking care of things, cleaning up your messes, as I recall.”

“They weren’t my messes, you idiot. I would never be as careless as that.”

“Calm down. It’s just been hectic today. Anyway, who’s the girl?”

My eyes popped wide and jaw hung open. I couldn’t believe it….he didn’t know who I was. Didn’t know me, Higurashi Rin. Of all the people. I was the one who stayed with him while he was at the hospital for three months. I placed a flower on his makeshift grave faithfully every month since his “death”. I thought he would have been thrilled to see me alive (the last time we saw each other, we were both in critical conditions with doctors pacing left and right saying neither of us would ever walk out of the hospital). But he didn’t know me. Didn’t remember me. Like everything had been for nothing. Forgotten. In a second. Everything. Just gone.

“My wife.”

“Really? You finally got married? Huh. Never thought you’d be the type.”

“I’m not.”

Bankotsu laughed. “She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”

“And human.”

“Yes, that’s a bit odd. Anyway, Rin, it’s very nice to meet you. I’d ask you guys to stay but your husband’s a cold, inconsiderate bastard and has piled me with work tonight. So, unfortunately, I won’t be able to entertain much.”

“No, that’s all right,” I replied shakily.

My nerves were all shot straight to hell. My knees wobbled. I couldn’t think. This was too surreal. How could he not remember me?

Even if it was that accident….that was a long time ago. I came out of it, broken and aching, but I survived. And I still remembered. I remembered everything, and all that led up to the culmination. And how stupid I was getting him, them—everyone innocent—involved and ultimately hurt. Was this punishment—some divine retribution—for what I did? And even though I know that what I did had been a very, very bad thing, I still hated god for taking him away.

“You knew,” I accused as soon as Sesshoumaru lit the ignition.

“Yes.”

“Then why? Why did you bring me here? Why did you have to do this to me?”

“It was necessary.”

“No! It wasn’t! Okay? It just wasn’t. It’s sick. You’re sick. He has a kid, did you know that? Of course you did. You always know every damn thing.”

“You’re overreacting, Rin.”

“Overreacting? Yes, I am! How long have you been in contact with him? Using, exploiting him like you did before? To get back at me? That is just too pathetic, Sesshoumaru. Even for you, it’s a new low.”

“I didn’t do it to ‘get back at you’. It’s just good business. He’s skilled, more so than any other candidate. As a businessman, I saw him as an asset.”

“And what happens when he becomes useless? You gonna kill him all over again?”

“You of all people should know why he died before.”

“So, you were jealous.”

“No.”

“Then why! Tell me, please! Why did you kill him?”

“Simple. It was just good business.”

“And he had to die.”

“Yes.”

And the world drops dead. I collapse under its weight (once again). Except, this time, no one survives the crash.

Tokyo, Japan: Past

Soon word spread to what seemed like every corner of the school: Taishou Inuyasha (of the powerful Taishou family) was dating Higurashi Rin (the quirky, too-quiet girl from math class). Miroku winked on our first day back, and Sango smirked—she had predicted this would happen all along. I blushed furiously. Everywhere I went, people were whispering, pointing, etc. I was so embarrassed that I briefly contemplated breaking up with him. That would have caused a riot, I’m sure. Inuyasha was being very sweet about everything. He knew how uncomfortable I felt about the whole “dating” scenario and agreed to keep things low and answer no questions. Actually, he was a little too good at the latter and would take to calling out fights when the inquiries became too overwhelming.

But I really didn’t mind everything so much. It felt sort of nice going out with him. We were a weird couple, everyone agreed. I was smart and academic, and he was not. He was athletic and tough, and I was not. In some ways, we complemented each other. It was like there was this magnetic pull drawing us towards each other. He was my best friend and the first guy I came to love. Like an adorable puppy, Inuyasha trailed after me, provided a sturdy shoulder to cry on, a good listener when I needed to bitch (which was a lot especially during the days when the wedding was zeroing in closer and closer), and a great friend. He made me laugh, made me cry occasionally, and someone to talk to. And unlike Miroku, Inuyasha never suggested anything sexual or perverse. We had kissed once, and it was disastrous. I was so humiliated at having been caught by a teacher that I could scarcely look him in the eye afterwards.

Two weeks after school began, Inuyasha asked me out on an “official” date. I was so nervous that day I couldn’t sit still and must have tried on a dozen different outfits before settling on one (it was the first I tried on too). Mama was so happy that she was practically delirious, and Souta was kind enough (or uncouth enough) to wolf-whistle when I sprinted into his room asking for his opinion. Pleased that I looked passable for a first date, I raced out the door and jumped into an elevator. Happy thoughts perforated my mind. I was excited, was jubilant, was literally on cloud nine.

Kagome had always been the one popular with boys, popular in general. I was always too shy, too taciturn, too invisible. Slowly, he drew me from my shell and into the real world. I laughed more when I was with him, talked more, and felt like I was actually in my body. That I was a person and not just lots of brain cells (all grey matter).

“Hey!” I waved at the brooding boy sitting on my apartment steps.

“Hey. So you ready to go?”

“Sure. Where we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Inuyasha, come on, tell me.”

He grinned mischievously, still evading my question. “You’ll see, now come on. I’ve got a car over here.”

I stopped. “We’re driving?”

“Well, yeah, why not?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh, okay then. Come on.”

“You know, if you don’t tell me where we’re going, it’s basically kidnap.”

“Ha-ha, that’s real funny. Damnit! These people need to move.”

Inuyasha honked at the train of cars ahead of him, eliciting even angrier beeps.

“It’s rush-hour. That’s why I’m wondering why you’re driving.”

“You’re right. It’s kidnap. I got a car so I could kidnap you and take you somewhere far away. There, happy now? You’re so annoying sometimes.”

“So are you. Maybe that’s why we like each other.”

“Or I felt bad for you.”

“Thanks, Inuyasha. You can shut up now.”

“Your sister’s pretty hot.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m leaving. Pull over now. Actually, don’t bother. I’ll just jump and blame you for manslaughter too.”

“Chill. I’m kidding. Come on, Rin. I’m kidding. I’m not my brother.”

Inuyasha swerved and careened into a stop. I was flung back into my seat, head bumped against the headrest. Embodying the generic teenage boy state: Inuyasha was a terrible, violet driver. Speed and more speed. There was no need for surviving.

“Wow. Yeah, next time, we’re not driving.”

“Wasn’t it fun?”

“No. We could’ve gotten killed.”

“Yeah but it would’ve been one hell of an ending.”

“I’d rather live, thank you.”

“I think it’s more ‘cause you wanna be with me.”

“You, I can pass on. Good food, send it my way.”

“What makes you think you’re getting any good food?”

“Inuyasha, we’re by the marina. They only have high-end restaurants and sailing boats. So unless you plan to take me on a yacht, then it’s dinner. Also, you’re a Taishou. From what Kagme has told me, you people never do anything unless it’s outright extravagant. Am I right?”

“Bitch.”

“A smart bitch, don’t forget.”

“You talk too much, Rin. But it’s okay. I like that. You’re cute when you’re upset.”

“So was I right?”

“Yes, you were.”

The restaurant Inuyasha selected would become one of my favorites (and paradoxically one my most detested). A mix of French and Japanese specialties was the restaurant’s signature cuisine. Inuyasha, as it turned out, had been a patron of the place since he was in diapers (he told me). He could recite the menu to me in its entirety, down to the slightest nuance in French lilt. The Taishous lived in France when Inuyasha was younger and still visit the southern regions regularly.

I, however, was not as acquainted with these formal dinner procedures. Mama had enrolled both Kagome and I in an etiquette class when we were younger, but that knowledge has long slipped away like sand grains in an hourglass. I still recalled the basic rule: start from the outside and work your way in. However, as for the specific distinctions between which tiny fork to use and which miniature spoon was appropriate for desert was lost to me. Thankfully, Inuyasha was gracious about my social faux pas and natural clumsiness. He ordered lobster and I ordered shrimp dripped, smothered, buried in butter.

“This is amazing,” I said between mouthfuls of tender shrimp.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“You’re really different from your brother, from the rest of your family, almost. Except for your mom. You look like her a lot.”

“Yeah, well, Sesshoumaru and I are only half-brothers.”

“Oh. That’s right. I almost forgot. I think I met his mother once, at this gala or something. She was real pretty, elegant, but kind of chilly. I think I felt my spine being dipped in ice when she introduced herself.”

Inuyasha chuckled and took a sip of wine (I had water). “That’s her all right. We don’t really talk about her much. I just know she was married to Dad before mom, but that was a long time ago. Youkai live long.”

“What about you? So, if your mom is a human and your dad is a youkai…then, are you like some sort of hybrid?”

His puppy ears perked up at the term. “Yup. A hanyou. The world is much more accepting of us now. In the Feudal Era, I would be turned out by humans and youkai. Never fit in anywhere.”

“Feudal Era? Are you really that old?” I was astounded. He looked no older than eighteen or nineteen.

“Oh, umm, I mean like for hanyou in general back then.”

He fumbled with a fork. I was intrigued. There was a deep mystery entombed under centuries, and if I wanted to unearth it, I needed to be more discreet.

“I see. So was it like oppression?”

“You could call it that. I’m not so clear on the history myself. I’ve never been the studious type. I think my dad’s got a family tree somewhere but no one really cares about that stuff anymore. All ancient history.”

“Do youkai hate humans?”

“It depends. Usually, youkai—especially the nobility—just ignore humans, think they’re beneath them. But there’s always the exception like Dad. Some would call him a progressive. But Sesshoumaru—”

“What about Sesshomaru?”

“Nothing, forget I said anything. He’d kill me.”

“Oh, come on. Just tell me. I’ll keep it quiet, I swear.”

“You swear.”

“Yes.”

Inuyasha inhaled deeply as if preparing to deliver a dramatic monologue. I sucked in breath too, jumpy from the anticipation. I couldn’t explain it but I was fascinated by his family’s history, by his family—youkai.

Although they were part of the world as much as are humans, they mostly remained in the shadows. The majority, the weaker ones, were hunted to extinction during the 19th century Expurgation. The ones who survived were the powerful, old families: the daiyoukai. Now, they were almost indistinguishable from humans, having adapted to blend into human society. But there was always a lingering fear about them. Youkai history became incorporated into schools at the beginning of the 1900s, and the youkai themselves emerged as wealthy businessmen, doctors, etc. Despite their affluence, they kept mostly to themselves. And few ever interbred with mortals.

Thus, the existence of Inuyasha’s family was strange and rarely seen.

“Sesshoumaru didn’t always hate humans before. Well, that’s a lie. He did hate them a long time ago but there was a woman, human. And she, uh, like changed his opinions on some things.”

“And then what happened?”

“She died.”

“What!”

“Don’t talk so loud. She was human, what do you expect?”

“Then….wait, why is he marrying my sister if he hates humans now?”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“Yes you do!”

“No, I don’t. And even if I did, I can’t talk about it okay? So just drop it.”

“I’m sorry, I—I was just curious.”

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s better you asked me than him. Him—he might’ve killed you right on the spot.”

I shivered even though there was a warmth breeze throughout the open-walled restaurant. I was beginning to believe that it was true: the difference between youkai and human. Maybe we weren’t mean to live together, at the same time. Maybe we were even mean to be enemies. But I felt so happy and secure being with Inuyasha. And even though his brother gave me the creeps, frightened me a lot, he and his father were really nice people. They didn’t seem like monsters, and Izayoi didn’t seem like she was scared to have a youkai in the same bed.

My phone rang and jolted me from my lulling thoughts. I grabbed for it, smiled sheepishly at annoyed looks from other diners, and excused myself.

“Mosh-moshi,” I said.

Mama’s voice rang from the other end, “Rin? Are you still with Inuyasha.”

“Yeah, we’re in the middle of dinner. It’s a really nice place. Very…posh.”

“That’s great, Rin. Is he being nice?”

“Inuyasha? Of course, Mama. Don’t worry. So why did you call?”

“I need you to do me a favor. Or Kagome actually. Izayoi has some kimono she wants Kagome to try on, for next week’s tea ceremony. And since I have to go over some things with the planner tonight before the final details go through, and Souta is out—god knows where that boy is—I need you to do this, Rin.”

“But Mama, how am I supposed to get there?”

“Ask Inuyasha and have him drop you off.”

“Mama, he’s not a chauffeur that I can order around! What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Izayoi will have a driver for you then. Don’t worry. Please, just do this. It’s urgent. I have to go now, I’m sorry. Thank you!”

“Mama, Mama? Mama—wait!”

Damn. She hung up on me. And I had no choice but to go beg Inuyasha for a ride back to his house, explain the circumstance, and plot ways to murder Sesshoumaru before the wedding.

Tokyo, Japan: Present

“He did not. That bastard! How could he?” Sango screamed.

“It’s okay, Sango. Don’t worry about it. I’m actually glad that I know now. It’s pointless to feel bad for someone who didn’t even die.”

“But why did the doctors say he did?”

“See, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I think Sesshoumaru planned this from the start. And now, he’s using it against me.”

“Okay, we know the guy is a complete jerk but even he wouldn’t do this. I mean, who could have predicted the outcome?”

“I could have.”

Sango sighed and popped a strawberry into her mouth. “That’s a like, and you know it. Think about it: when you married him, did you know what you were getting into?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Then did you do it?”

“You know why. I had no choice. It was either that or—”

“Or nothing. You had a choice and you chose him.”

“Oh please, don’t make me fucking gag. I didn’t choose him, I chose to live.”

Sango shrugged. “Whatever. So what are you going to do now?”

“Nothing. I am going to forget about Bankotsu. I mean, the guy has a fucking kid and a wife. I’m not going to be some homewrecker.”

“Homewrecker! That’s priceless. Rin, Rin, Rin, you were that once already. When you married Sesshoumaru remember? I happen to recall that Kagome was supposed to be with him.”

“Yeah, and I was gonna get married to Inuyasha and have a houseful of brats. Look how that turned out.”

“You’d never have kids, even if it weren’t for that. You’re not the motherly type.”

“And I expect you and Miroku to be getting it on sometime? When am I going to be the godmother you promised I would be?”

Sango blushed. I loved it. I thought I noticed a slight bump on her stomach.

“Well, I am going to the doctor’s…”

“Don’t bother. Even I can tell you that you’re pregnant.”

“I know, but I don’t want it to be!”

“You don’t want a kid?”

“No, I love kids. And I plan to have two or three, but I just didn’t expect myself to be pregnant now. I still have to finish your memoir.”

“Sango, Forget about that and focus on your impending birth!” I shrieked with laughter.

“Did you know that Inuyasha and Kagome are planning on adopting that kitsune?”

“Shippou? No wai…”

“Yes! They’re finalizing the papers next month.”

“I can’t believe that. She said they were thinking about it…but really? It’s only a week, two at the most, since they first met the kid.”

“I guess they must’ve taken a real liking to him. So, Rin, now that your best friend and sister are going to become mothers soon, how do you feel about making up with Sesshoumaru?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, it’s just that as a concerned mother,” Sango put on her best pretend-worried grimace, “I don’t want my child to grow up in a dysfunctional family. And if you’re going to be the godmother, I need to know that there’s a godfather in the future.”

“That’s really funny, you’re so witty it’s priceless. Not going to happen, honey. Not a chance.”

Unwittingly, my hand flicked on my lighter and lit a cigarette. Sango yelped and slapped the burning menace out of my hand.

“Sorry,” I apologized, couldn’t believe I was that stupid.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go get some more strawberries. No more smoking!”

I stabbed the frazzled cigarette into the metal table. We were outside, trying to escape the hot caused by an unnatural heat wave and a broken air conditioner. Sweat beads trailed down my back and neck. My shirt was damp from perspiration. I felt gross, sticky, and in desperate need of a cold shower. My tiny balcony was cramped enough without two grown women invading its domain. Two dying plants decorated the sparse environment. I watered them religiously, but they still wilted despite my frustrated love and care. Sango emerged with a bowl of strawberries covered in honey and an orange popsicle. I gratefully took it from her as she slumped down into the hot metallic chair across from me.

We were the ideal picture of two bored, married women with nothing more productive to do than gossip. Married to wealth and privilege, I lived in an indifferent world as an indifferent child-woman never able to breach the banks of maturity and age yet unable to recede back to the shallower waters of childhood. And now, I was to watch the two women closest to me reach a land I would never step onto. Despite my vehement protests about motherhood (I would never have a child), I still yearned to feel what they feel. I was so sick and tired of living my life vicariously.

“God, I’m feeling restless, Sango. Let’s do something tonight.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Go dancing?”

“I’m not much of a partier…neither are you. What’s this all about?”

“I don’t know. I just feel so….trapped, like I need to break free before I go crazy. Come on, let’s go out for some fun. Just us.”

“Okay, sure. Wanna go get ready?”

“Not before I finish this popsicle and the strawberries.”

I deftly stabbed at a berry and bit down into it hard. The juice oozed out and my mouth erupted with flavor and sweetness.

Tokyo, Japan: Past

Izayoi, though dainty and having the illusion of being helpless, turned out to be incredibly strong. She hoisted onto Inuyasha large wooden boxes containing, which I assumed, kimono. She snapped open lacquered latches and popped the cover open revealing six different but equally beautiful soft cloths. I ran my fingers carefully over their edges, barely daring to touch the delicate silk.

“Now, we have to pick out the most suitable one for Kagome. But as part of the tradition, she can’t see it until the day of.”

“It’s not the actual wedding is it?” I asked.

“Oh no. Just a very casual tea ceremony, more like tea party, between the two families. Very relaxed, not to worry, Rin. You’ll have to wear a kimono too.”

“Ah…I don’t really have any. I mean, I’ve got some summer yukata, but they’re not like anything formal.”

“That’s all right. I have the perfect one set out for you. I’ll show it to you later. But first, we have to figure out which one would look good on Kagome.”

“Izayoi…we’re not doing the whole twelve-layer are we?” My mouth downturned in worry. Kagome would be suffocated.

“Definitely not. I’m thinking of just one, maybe two, under-robes, and the kimono.”

“Okay, that’s good. In that case, I like the pale green one.”

I pointed at the one closest to Izayoi’s feet, carefully laid in rice paper and velvet. It was light and springy, very pale—nearly translucent—green sprinkled with small yellow flowers with an elaborate, intricate design around the edges. It was simple and pretty, something Kagome would appreciate.

“I thought so too,” Izayoi nodded and smiled.

She lifted the kimono and shook it out. Small, fine particles of dust flew from its folds. Carefully, she draped it on a customary bamboo hanger. Leaves brushed against the taut white-bathed windows outside (the ancient, stylized paper windows have long been replaced by their sturdier, modern counterparts of glass). Izayoi was like an artist, a dancer—a geisha resurrected from the Edo period—she moved with grace and certainty. She was fluidity itself. The image of her gliding combined with the timeless, ethereal feeling of the room broke me down speechless. I was entranced by her, this tiny woman capable of, what seemed like, accomplishing anything.

“Rin? Would you like to see yours now?”

“That would be great. I’m really…I don’t know what to say. I’ve never worn a kimono before, and these are so beautiful.”

“Don’t tell Kagome this, but yours is even better. It was the kimono I wore myself when I first met Inuyasha’s father. And with your complexion and thinness, it’s a perfect match.”

Izayoi propped open the last box (a seventh one she had before now hidden behind her) and pulled out the most beautiful kimono I had ever seen. It was sheer white, soft and snowy, with pink cherry blossoms cascading all across it. There was a painted scene of a cherry blossom viewing. The rendition was so greatly captured it felt alive. I was breathless from shock.

“Oh my god…it’s gorgeous. Wow. I umm…wow. Thank you,” I managed to sputter out somewhat coherently.

Izayoi laughed sweetly. “Not at all. Try it on.”

“Really? Here? But—” I nodded towards a sitting, immensely bored, Inuyasha.

Izayoi shooed her son out of the room, much to his disappointment and my mortification.

“Now, Rin. Try it on.”

I peeled off my clothes slowly, conscious and embarrassed, but Izayoi didn’t bat an eye. She observed me with the skill and experience of a practiced seamstress, measuring me mentally. I could swear I heard her murmur my measurements on the sly, and they were uncannily accurate. She helped me into the kimono and tied the obi tightly at the back and led me to the floor-length mirror.

Unlike Kagome and Mama, I was one of those unfortunate women without a distinct figure (even now, I still retain the figure of a boy). Although modern fashion demands for women to be thin, the fashion world also desires for women to be voluptuous in certain areas. This physical impossibility could only be attained by a limited, extraordinary few. My shoulders were broad and bony, but I had no breasts and no hips. My waist, sadly, did not curve inwards like they were molded by natural corset bindings. Instead, they went straight down, and no amount of altering or disguising could give me the appearance of feminine grace.

“It’s so beautiful…and light. Almost like I’m not wearing anything at all.”

“It’s because you’re not wearing an under-robe right now, silly. But it’s a good thing this is a summer robe otherwise you’ll be sweltering soon enough. Goodness, Rin, you’re so thin. We might have to add some padding.”

I burned crimson at that.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that once we get you in layers it won’t be so bad,” Izayoi assured me gently.

I prayed desperately that we didn’t need padding like they used to do. The thought of being that traditional frightened me. I still didn’t know how I was supposed to walk, sit, move in a kimono. Every thought was concentrated on merely not accidentally ripping the raw silk.

“As for the decorum part,” she continued smoothly, “That can be arranged. It’s very simple, Rin. Before I married Touga, I wasn’t well-versed with all their etiquette either. Youkai…they do things differently. Anyway, thank you for coming today, Rin. Please give this to Kagome and tell her I expect her to be here next week promptly at seven in the morning. Sharp. Not a second late.”

“Sure. And thank you again for the lovely kimono. It’s very generous of you to let me wear it.”

“Then keep it.”

“What? But I couldn’t. It’s too lovely to part with.”

Izayoi laughed again, tossing her head back, eyes sparkling with cleverness. “I’m too old to wear something like that, and I have no daughters. I really like you, Rin. Think of it as a small gift.”

“But…it’s so…”

“Beautiful? You’re a pretty girl yourself. It suits you perfectly.”

She pushed the second box towards me and held my hands in hers. I squeezed her slender fingers for a moment and thanked her copiously. I had never received something this remarkable (the electronic wastelands I craved for usually did not count).

“Rin, Mom? You guys done yet?” Inuyasha practically shouted outside the sliding screen.

“Yes, you may come in now. Rin is decent.”

I hastily stood up.

“So, can you give me a ride home?” I asked when we were nearly out the door.

“Yeah but let’s go swimming first.”

“Swimming? Where? It’s the middle of the night.” The clock read nine so it was almost true.

“Why not? It’s fucking hot outside—sorry. So let’s go.”

“But I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“That’s okay.”

He gave me a wicked look and I punched his arm.

“Fiesty, eh?”

“No. More like disturbed at your lasciviousness.”

“Sorry, I’m no nerd. What does that mean?”

“It means—”

“C’mon, go have some fun. You’re always so uptight.”

“I am not uptight. I am simply…I don’t know. Really stressed out, I guess.”

“So take a long swim, it won’t kill you. I’ll show you the pool.”

He led me to the back of the house and outside into the backyard. If it could be called that. The lawn was spacious, covering endless acres from what I could see. The cobbled paths were lit with Japanese lanterns and various stone benches dotted the walkways. Set to the side, on a regal throne and palisaded from meddling peons, was the biggest pool ever. Olympic size—perhaps larger—all lined in natural stone, with a waterfall pouring feeding water into it, the pool inveigled me to take a dip. Just a small one, I told myself. It looked so inviting, so refreshingly cool. My burning skin ached to be touched by the water, feel its anodyne caresses all over my sore limbs.

I cursed silently. Inuyasha knew. He knew I would be sold as soon as I set eyes on the behemoth. Nonetheless, I played it cool and feigned apathy.

“Oh, is this it?”

He laughed (wasn’t sold by my poor performance).

“You in or what?”

“But I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“So?”

“I’m not stripping.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Inuyasha! I’m not going in with just a bra and underwear.”

“Fine. Damn, you’re such a prude. I’ll go find a suit for you.”

“You guys have girls’ swimwear just lying around?”

“Yeah. We’ve got lingerie too if you’re up to it later.”

“No thank you. But I’ll take a bathing suit.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get the skimpiest one I can find.”

“You’re turning into Miroku, you perv.”

“No, I’m a guy.”

I pushed him towards the door and laid down on a poolside recliner. My eyes were dry and groggy. It had been a long, long day. I felt like a ninety-year-old lady. Inuyasha returned and tossed me two teensy-weensy black strips. I growled at him, making known my aversion.

“Inuyasha, what the hell is this?” I held up the top (or maybe bottom) and waved it angrily.

“A bikini. Put it on in the pool house. I’ll go get some drinks.”

“This isn’t a bikini. It’s…god, I don’t even know what. It…” I gave up, exasperated and too hot to argue longer.

Grudgingly I walked into the pool house and flicked on the lights. The place was musty and cramped with boxes all over the floor. However, the scent of pine wax and freshly laundered curtains informed me the place was recently visited. Someone had attempted to make it habitable again. Some of the boxes were open with the contents strewn out. Most of them were family albums and old newspapers and outgrown clothes. A baby’s booties, torn yukata (the cheap kind, not the exquisite works of art Izayoi showed me earlier), and other paraphernalia that a family stuffs away when their usefulness were up.

I sat down and began shifting through some the old photos, entirely aware that I was being nosy and snooping and completely base. But my incorrigible curiosity couldn’t be quelled. Absentmindedly I picked up a small, mundane one covered in lilac cloth. I flipped open to a random page and dropped the book. I stifled a scream rising in my throat. The picture stared at me, haunting and mesmerizing.

It was her.

The woman.

The one I saw in the silver frame in Sesshoumaru’s room last semester. The same woman with the same pretty smile, wide cinnamon-brown eyes, and thin, sculpted face. She was younger in this photo, maybe around thirteen and clad in a dress that had been chic in the 1920s. She had a simple silver chain around her supple neck with a dangling amber pendant in the shape of a rose. There was something eerily recognizable about the way she cocked her neck and smiled teasingly. And then I realized: I was right the last time. The girl was me. She looked so alike, so…It was like staring into a mirror tracing three years back. My eyes were more slanted upwards and honey-tinted with golden specks that emerged in sunlight (Mama blamed it on our French descent from Daddy’s side) and my mouth fuller, wider set. My cheekbones were higher too, more raw and pronounced—less feminine—but otherwise, we could have been twins.

But it was impossible. I wasn’t a twin and I certainly wasn’t alive in the twenties. Besides, she had a westernized air about her, and I had never left Japan. Consumed with intrigue and trepidation, I flipped through the other pages, searching for some sign, some clue. They were all her, every single photo acted as a documentary piece of her life. They ranged from a young girl (eight, I think) to early twenties. And then they stopped. I looked for more evidence in the other albums nearby but they were mostly of Izayoi, Touga, and Inuyasha with the infrequent snapshots of an impressively (impassively) irritated Sesshoumaru. I felt a chill running through my body. It was like the woman had just vanished. There were no traces of her other than the last photo, capturing her in a floor-sweeping evening gown, her back towards the audience and smiling her mysterious smile. I gaped. Would that be me ten years from now? I didn’t dare ponder on the thought.

Shakily, I stashed the album away with its neglected companions and exited the pool house (doubled as storage). Inuyasha had not returned yet. I heard shouting from the main house; probably he and Izayoi were bickering about his attire. She kept threatening to trim his hair (or hack-and-slash it away as he put it). Eager to calm my nerves, I dived into the pool, making a little splash as I entered. My body glided through the clear, bluish waters, eyes opened—searching. The pool was lit from the floor-up, giving my body an iridescent glow around the edges.

I swam a few laps, desperate to drown out the thundering thoughts slamming against my skull. My breathing became heavy and harsh, not from the exercise, but from my racing thoughts—ideas—every minute possibility that fleeted through my mind. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice someone else had joined.

“What are you doing here?” I came to an abrupt stop, breathing still erratic.

“To pick up some things,” Sesshoumaru replied simply.

“No, I mean why’re you in the pool?”

“To swim.”

Still suspicious, I treaded away from him and raised myself until I could sit stably on a protruding stone slab. He swam towards me, unfazed. I scooted back further until my back was being stabbed by crenulated sandstone. He didn’t stop.

“So, um, how are you?”

He ignored my question, hands roaming up my calves. He was too close. Fearful. Frozen. I pushed against the wall, letting the hardness dig into my spine.

"What are you doing?”

No answer.

Hands roamed higher, parted my legs, caressing my thighs. I wanted to kick, struggle, my way out. Terrified, I tried brushing his hands off. He growled and pulled at the band of the bikini shorts.

“Hey, can you stop that? What the hell are you doing? This isn’t funny. I’m serious. Stop it.”

For a second, I thought my demand worked. But he merely paused before flickering a wry, slight smile. I saw the fangs again and shuddered, which only seemed to amuse him more. He pulled me down into the pool. My foot grasped for the floor, head submerged as I fought for steadiness. Sesshoumaru lifted me up and cupped my lower back as my legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. He walked—half-lifting, half floating—until my hand could grasp onto a railing. I held tightly, knuckles bleeding white. My head rushed, dizzy, eyes winced from confusion, hysteria, and lust. His mouth was on my mine, parting my lips open effortlessly. We kissed longingly. My hands swept back his hair until the crescent moon marking on his forehead became visible. I glided my fingers over it. He growled, a guttural, primeval sound ascending from his chest.

His kisses moved lower, nipping at my collarbone, lower, lower, descending just above my breasts. My nipples tensed from the excitement and cold. He nuzzled through the gauzy fabric, licking and tasting my flesh. I squirmed in his grasp, caught in the moment, unable to think straight and push free. He flicked at a nipple while a hand was reaching for the other one. Coming to my sense temporarily (I was so scared by this point) I stepped back, away. He held down my arms and continued. I turned my head and saw—to my absolute horror—Inuyasha above the waters. The hazy lights obscured my vision (I wasn’t exactly sharp momentarily either), and I couldn’t see his expression clearly. But I knew: there was going to be hell to pay.

Tokyo, Japan: Present

True to her word, Sango agreed to go dancing with me. We showered, dressed hurriedly, and swabbed on some quick, easy make-up. Sango in her trademark cerise lipstick and I in a backless black halter. We giggled like airheaded, inane schoolgirls the whole time, couldn’t believe we were actually doing this, couldn’t remember the last time we laughed so freely while anticipating a night of agitated, injudicious fun. No respite. No regret. That had been our motto a long time ago. We had chanted it up and down the hallways of high school, the quads of college, drunken bars and technicolor nightclubs, and finally, down each other’s weddings. But for years now, we had reverted into our shells (before we met) and never strayed from the safe, given path. Sango had her career to think about, and I was still resisting a fate I never thought anyone could deserve—no matter how wretched, how heinous.

We stumbled into a more subdued place sometime between eleven and twelve, slightly tipsy from the three shots each we had earlier at a favorite bar. Our faces were smeared with glitter, contracted from some less fortunate, more sleazy place (we left before we were even completely inside), and hair messy and tangled. Thankfully, I was prudent enough to have tied it up into a bun. Sango’s loose, luscious tresses fanned behind her face, giving her the wild sensation of a brazenly beautiful and untamable mare.

She pulled me into a tight embrace, and laughing our crazed heads off, we downed countless drinks in between dances. We moved with passionate ferocity that night, like two lovers caught in an insane, eternal tango. Her hips moved against mine, and I wanted more than anything to have been in love with Sango, to feel her sensuous body against my lank one, to twist and turn as one entity.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rin,” she whispered wickedly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, smartass?”

“You want him. I know.”

“Want who?”

“That guy over there.”

“Who?” I whisked my head around.

The man Sango had in mind was a lone youkai, outfitted in a tailored, expensive black pinstripe suit. He dragged on a cigarette and beckoned me towards him.

“Sango…that’s Kouga.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone you don’t want to know. I’ll see you later okay? This should only take a sec.”

I walked over to Kouga, arms crossed, frowning, exuding the general aura of disdainful displeasure.

“Who’s the broad?” he asked, blunt and vicious as ever.

“Sango. Why’re you here?”

“Your husband paid me to watch you.”

“What the hell?”

“Said to keep you out of trouble, make sure you don’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere—not like last time.”

“God, Kouga, I swear. I’m going to wring that stupid neck of yours one day.”

“I’d like to see you try, dollface. You can’t even wrap your bony fingers around it,” he grinned evilly, “I’m a youkai. And you’re just a human bitch.”

I laughed at the pun. He infuriated me to no end, but he was better company than this so-called husband of mine.

“So how much is he paying you to tail me this time?”

“Ten grand.”

“That’s it?”

“A week. In Euros, cash.”

I let out a low whistle.

“That’s a shitload of money.”

“You bet, so you better not get into any trouble or I’m gonna get nasty.”

“Oh, honey, you already are. A virulent plague sent to thrash me, no doubt.”

“I’d never touch you.”

“That’s true. Too scared to, I’m betting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t be an adulterer, Kouga. It’s fucking unattractive. And Ayame would sooner kill you than blame me.”

He howled at my hilarious joke (not).

“Stay outa trouble, kid. And oh, yeah, before I forget—with all our flirting and your obvious lust for me—Sesshoumaru asked me to give you this.”

He haphazardly dropped a wispy silver chain into my outstretched hand. I clutched it tightly, and muttered a sarcastic gratitude.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” I whispered.

“I know,” and Kouga agreed softly.