Chapter Text
-CHAPTER VII-
The news had reached his father later then he’d thought. The weekend had passed quietly, Miroku had convinced him to take a few days off and dragged him to Macao. The fact that the plane was already ready to take off, less than an hour after his assistant had proposed a break, left him no doubt: Miroku had already decided for him, he just needed a ride. When he pointed it out his friend had replied resentfully “Man of little faith, I care about you! You’re already on the path of self-destruction, taking a few days for yourself seems the minimum to me."
“So, you won’t mind staying in Tokyo.”
“You act strange lately, you might make some reckless gesture, I must come. Who will protect you from yourself?”
Miroku had spent his weekend at the casino, spending his nights in the amiable company of strippers and dancers, while he’d decided to stay away from that infernal bedlam, his senses overstimulated by one too many environmental stimuli. He had wandered for kilometers around the city, trying not to think about his father or the disaster date with Taijiya Sango. On the contrary, he hadn't been able to get Nakamura-san out of his head, that woman was hard to forget: that smell of hers had remained imprinted in his nose, that particular hint of burnt coffee mixed with a floral undertone and that peculiar hint of incense was interesting and unique, just like her.
And although he had done everything to remove her from his thoughts, eradicating her like a weed, everything seemed to remind him of her: the smell of coffee from a cart on the corner of the street, a bouquet of white flowers in the arms of a lady that had passed him, the ephemeral curls of the scented sticks placed to burn in the incense burners. Each of those fragrances brought him back to her.
Out of the corner of his eye he’d glimpsed a woman with the same hair color as her - that ridiculous electric blue - and had circled around a building to make sure it wasn't her. The woman had looked at him strangely and he had begun to question his sanity. Maybe Miroku was right, he really needed a break.
In his pilgrimage around Macao he’d found the place where they served the best dim sum in the city, a spartan place that seemed to have come out of another time in a dead-end street in the Portuguese neighborhood. When he bit into the first baozi and the rich flavor exploded in his mouth, his mind went back to Miss Nakamura.
The sound that had escaped her throat at the restaurant had triggered something inside him, something beastly that he was honestly ashamed of. At that moan of pleasure he had felt a satisfied rumble rising in his chest that he had barely managed to hold back, averting his gaze from her rosy cheeks and her pink tongue, which had darted out to clean a residue of sauce from her lips. He had felt like a teen in the midst of a hormonal crisis.
Despite everything, those two days away from the chaos of Tokyo had done him good, at least he had managed to sleep for more than two hours a night, something he hadn't been able to do so easily lately.
“Why aren't you answering your father's calls?” the office door flew open and Myoga entered hurriedly, followed closely by Miroku, who seemed to have tried and failed to stop the advance of his father's attendant. “You know the voicemail isn't going to stop him. He will swoop down on you like a hawk at any moment."
“I tried to stop him.” Miroku apologized.
“Well it looks like you didn't try hard enough.”
“He's an old man, I couldn't hit him.” The assistant replied with a seraphic smile. Sometimes Miroku gave him the impression of being too calm, almost one step away from eternal peace of mind: if it hadn't been for his implacable hunger for women and his thirst for money he could’ve even become an ascetic, a wandering monk searching for nirvana. If through osmosis his friend had been able to give him some of that mental peace, he would have been infinitely grateful.
“He can take a punch better than you might think.”
“I doubt it, look how he drags those old bones around. Your father keeps him out of pity.”
“No, the old fool keeps him because he's a good lackey.” They both looked at him, but ignoring his presence, considering him as an ornament.
“Why are you two talking about me like I wasn’t here?” Myoga sat down on the dark leather couch that towered in the center of the room, the place where Miroku usually sat to watch his stupid dramas. “And yes, young Hoshikawa, I could knock you out with a simple, well-placed punch.”
"Why are you here?" He didn't really wanted to talk, especially about dating and arranged marriages, and he was sure that his father's assistant was there for that specific reason. He was able to clearly perceive the beginning of a strong migraine.
“You should thank me, you ungrateful brat. Your father would have set the whole building on fire if I hadn't told him that I would’ve come personally to talk to you. Why don't you answer his calls?”
“I was out of town.”
"You can’t run away."
“I wasn't running away! If it had been that easy to get rid of my father I would have already jumped on the first rocket to Mars.” Trying to keep his frustration at bay seemed like an impossible challenge.
“This snarky attitude will get you nowhere. You know that when Toga gets something into his head it's hard to change his mind.” Myoga took the TV remote control and turned it on. A chorus of shrill voices and horrifying tunes rose from the flat screen.
“In this respect he is more of a mule than a dog.” His friend was helping himself to a drink and it annoyed him.
“It's ten o'clock on a fucking Monday morning, do you really have to?” He had to get that wet bar gone as soon as possible.
“It's ten in the morning on a Monday and Myoga is here.” He pointed to the man sitting on the couch who seemed to be totally engrossed in what was happening on TV. “He will certainly want to talk to you about the Taijiya affair and judging by the file he carries with him he’ll have other blind dates in store for you.”
Only then did Inuyasha notice the simple dark leather document holder that Myoga had placed next to him on the sofa.
“And knowing you…” - his friend continued, taking a sip from his glass - “this will lead to yet another emotional breakdown, followed by spikes of anger and outbursts of rage. And who will be here to suffer all this? Yeah, just me. So sorry if I try to prepare for the worst, as best as I can.”
“Look at you two, you're arguing like an old couple.” Myoga turned his attention away from the screen and suddenly became serious. “Is there something you need to tell me? I'm sure your father will come to terms with it, believe it or not he just wants you to be happy and if young Hoshikawa is your special person..."
"What?!" they both shouted. Miroku coughed a couple of times, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Inuyasha jumped from the chair and went towards the older man, snatched away the remote control and turned off the TV, cutting off in the middle the make-out session of the main protagonists of the drama.
He had the insane impulse to blurt everything out, to tell Myoga that the agreement with the Taijiya had fallen through but that in Sango's place there was another woman.
“What the hell are you babbling about, old man?”
“Well it's strange that you're so against marriage, no one has seen you with a woman since you came back from Los Angeles and you're always with him.” he pointed out, pointing his index finger at Miroku.
“You too are attached to my father like a Siamese twin, but it never occurred to me that there could be anything between you two!” He could barely stop himself from picking Myoga up from the couch and kicking him out of his office.
“I'm just trying to give myself an explanation.” The old secretary shrugged and - indifferent to his emotional state - took back the remote control and turned the TV back on.
“My patience is wearing thin, what does my father want?”
"Take a guess." Myoga didn't say anything else, he went back to staring at the screen with growing interest.
The events of that stupid drama were of such a low level of plot and acting that embarrassment took over him. How could something like that be so successful?
His tolerance reached its limit, he lunged at the television and with a growl pulled the plug out of the socket. “Miroku, escort our welcome guest out. Myoga, tell my father that I will meet him tomorrow.”
Miroku approached the sofa half-heartedly and Myoga quickly stood up, raising his hands in surrender. “I know the way, Hoshikawa.” He picked up his briefcase from the couch and walked to the door. “Toga wants to see you today, if I were you I wouldn't make him wait past lunch time.”
"Out. Now."
The door closed instantly behind the old assistant. Myoga knew his temper and certainly also knew that his next move would’ve been to throw the screen after him, so he had decided to retreat to save his life.
“You should treat him better, his coronary could give out.”
“Miroku.” He admonished him before he could continue, and when he turned to Miroku, he saw a flash of fear flicker in his friend's eyes.
“I'm just saying that by treating him badly you won't solve the problems with your father, Myoga is just an unfortunate middleman.” It seemed that his friend didn't care about his safety. “What are you going to do?”
He dropped onto the couch and sighed heavily. Perhaps he had given Nakamura-san more time to decide than he actually had. He looked at the watch on his wrist and counted how many hours, minutes and seconds remained until the inevitable meeting with his father.
“Meeting him, obviously. If I'm late, the old man might decide to inconvenience the national guard.”
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His father had put him against the wall, not only had he decided what time the meeting should take place, but he had also chosen the location of the fight: his office on the top of the Taisho Tower would become a ring with a breathtaking view .
In the intimacy of that large and cold room - like his parent's ego - Toga could give vent to his anger without any witnesses. Sometimes he wondered how his mother could have chosen someone like him, his mother who was a model of kindness and generosity.
“Why did Taijiya Motomi call me this morning asking for an explanation as to why you refused to marry his daughter?”
He knew his father had heard him coming since he left his office twenty floors down, perhaps he had even heard him tell Miroku to call the police if he wasn't back in an hour, yet he greeted him with his back, a dark silhouette against the clear October sky, his eyes focused beyond the windows on the city below him. His imposing figure would have aroused fear in anyone, he had seen with his own eyes people tremble under his father's fiery gaze and at that moment, with his rigid shoulders and serious tone, he was a little scared too.
“Our personalities are too different. Let's say that Taijiya Sango is not the woman I thought.” That wasn't really a lie, but a truth conveniently bent and reshaped.
“Stop acting like a spoiled child!”
“He said, on the verge of a temper tantrum.”
“Inuyasha!” thundered his father, proceeding towards him with long strides. His youki overwhelmed him and a pathetic whine escaped his throat.
"Father." His voice shook for a second but he managed to say that single word with a defiant tone.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” He hissed.
“It must be Taisho's prerogative, to be hard headed.” He would not have granted him victory so easily, he would not have allowed himself to be bent like a twig by his fury.
“Oh, no. I can assure you that stubbornness was one of Izayoi's worst flaws." His voice cracked imperceptibly on that name that Inuyasha didn't hear him say often. It seemed like saying it out loud was causing him pain.
“If you're looking for someone to blame for my stubbornness, I recommend you take a look in the mirror.”
"Enough!" Toga hit the desk with an open palm and a corner of glass crumbled under his fingers, the rest of the objects on the table trembled or fell askew, as if an earthquake was shaking the very foundations of the building. “If you think I will indulge in this ridiculous display of childishness you are sadly mistaken.” He growled through clenched teeth. “You will marry one of those women, that’s final. If not Taijiya Sango then the next one, or the one after that. The list is still long.”
“Why do you treat me like a damsel looking for a husband? Do you think I need to get married to live? The nineteenth century just called, it wants its retrograde manners back!” He had always complained that his father's office was unnecessarily large, an inappropriate display of magnificence and power, but in that moment he felt like he was suffocating between those walls covered with prizes and valuable paintings. He undid his tie and yanked it free, sliding it down the collar of his shirt. “What is it, is your unconscious desire to have a daughter coming out? I'm sorry, but the chances of me finding the right woman on that list are slim to none."
“You can't seem to understand the need for all of this. Thanks to your brother's marriage we control a large part of the media, you are my best asset at the moment, your possible marriage to one of those women will bring further fortune to the company and consequently prestige to the family." He almost wanted to laugh. Power, more power and then some more! The Taisho had been the richest in the country for at least a century, perhaps richer even than the emperor himself and his father spoke to him about acquiring more as if his very life depended on it.
“Isn't it enough that Sesshoumaru has already done all of this? Why force me to do something I clearly don't want, you think I can't do it on my own? Do you have so little faith in my abilities that you think I need to rely on another family to succeed?” he only realized he had screamed when his voice boomed off the walls and came back like a boomerang to hit his ears.
“Look at it from another point of view. I want you to have what your brother and Kagura have, what your mother and I had. I want you to be happy."
“Well I think this is the lowest point in my life and your meddling in my affairs is only making me un-happy. I will never have what you had with mom if you force me to marry one of those women.”
He knew that no heartfelt speech would make his father give up. The time had come. The moment he would put his plan into action. Nakamura-san had not yet confirmed her participation but he was sure that she would not refuse: the sum of money that he had promised her would’ve enticed anyone.
“I can't get married.” He lowered his head, his ears folded, and what he hoped was an expression of regret appeared on his face. He hoped that his smell didn't give away: his father's nose was a powerful weapon, he could smell a lie from miles away.
"Why?"
“I'm seeing someone else.”
“Miroku?”
That was such a surprise that he stared agape at his father for a few seconds, before his brain could compute an answer “What!? But why should I…no, obviously it's not Miroku!”
He had to cut the umbilical cord that kept them together, his friend had to get a life: was it possible that among all the women he slept with there wasn't one suitable for more than a one night stand? And if his father and Myoga had had the same impression, who knows how many others had thought so seeing them together.
“Who then?” His father's youki began to recede and he felt a weight lift from his chest.
“We met in Los Angeles.” Miroku had suggested him to say this, it would have been hardly credible to tell his father that he had met a woman there in Tokyo, given that since he had returned to his homeland he had had little time to meet new people and the opportunities to embark on romantic relationships had really been rare. It would’ve made sense to tell him that he had met that woman in the USA: he had spent the last four years at the head of the Californian branch and there, out of the shadow of his father and his castrating influence, he had made new friends. Miroku had always had better luck with women but he had still been quite successful.
Those words seemed to soothe him. He settled into his command post behind the desk and regained some of the composure he had lost during their confrontation.
“Do I know her?” He had piqued the old bastard's curiosity.
"No."
“May I meet her?” Bingo. He had taken the bait.
“I have to think about it, I don't want you to embarrass me, it's serious.” He was becoming a pathological liar, just like Miroku and at that moment he couldn't help but be grateful for his teachings.
“How serious?” His father motioned for him to take a seat but he decided to remain standing, ready to run.
“Wedding serious.” He played with the end of the tie he had taken off, averting his gaze from his father.
“And why not say it from the beginning?”
“I was afraid of your judgment, that you wouldn't approve.” Thinking of Nakamura-san's performance made him almost laugh. He was certain that his father wouldn’t approve.
“You are my son, Inuyasha. If this woman makes you happy I don't see why I shouldn't approve of your relationship." A hint of a smile spread across his face.
"It means a lot to me." He put a hand to his chest, the comedy had reached its climax.
"Fantastic!" Toga clapped his hands twice and the sudden sound made him jump. “I can't wait to meet her. On Saturday you will be my guests, don't make any commitments. I will send Miroku the details.”
“Actually, we…” Accepting that invitation before having concluded his agreement with Nakamura-san was a gamble.
His father stood up and buttoned his jacket and approached him. “I’ll not accept a negative response, it would be good for me to meet her as soon as possible if you intend to marry her.” He patted him on the shoulder, a gesture of approval he rarely reserved for him. “I didn't think this day could get any better, but with this good news you made an old man happy.” Old his ass, his demonic nature had given him the appearance of an eternal forty-year-old in full physical shape.
“There's no rush! I don't plan on getting married anytime soon." Why was the tables turning? Why once again did his father seem to be the winner?
With his hand still on his shoulder Toga guided him towards the door with a gentle push. Resisting was out of the question. "See you on Saturday."
He had no chance to argue, one moment he was inside his father’s office and the next he found himself locked out.
Fuck! The thing had exploded in his face like contraband fireworks. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled down to Nakamura-san's number.
He hesitated for a moment and remembered that he had given her a week to think about it and - with a gesture that he considered magnanimous on his part given the situation he had found himself in - he decided to wait. He would give her a few more hours and then call her.
He had to speed things up and that woman would be part of the plan like it or not.
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Her hand trembled and not because the phone was vibrating, but because reading the name on the display caused her an involuntary tremor. If Mount Fuji had exploded at that precise moment, it would have shocked her less: she would’ve followed the government's directives regarding evacuations, she would’ve reached her rally point and fled from the impending catastrophe. But, how could she run away from that cataclysm, named Inuyasha Taisho, who continues to run after her?
AKITA.
That name called her from the display like a curse.
She could never have saved his number with his real name and that was the first that came to her mind, a little ridiculous to be honest, but the situation she found herself in wasn't exactly the most serious either. His stubborn nature and those fluffy white ears reminded her of that particular dog’s breed.
Her finger hesitated before sliding onto the green button, she didn't want to answer, everything inside her told her not to, but ignoring him wasn't an option. He had told her, he knew where to find her and she really didn't want to suddenly find him outside her house.
She sat down on the bed and clutched a pillow to her chest afraid that her heart might decide to take a stroll out of her ribcage. “Moshi-moshi.” Her voice barely came out, she had to force air through her throat to make her words sound clear.
“Have you made a decision?” No pleasantries, straight to the point.
“Good evening to you too.” That man brought out the worst side of her, as much as she wanted it she couldn't be polite. And why be so when he didn't have the slightest consideration for her?
"So?" Still no mention of a polite greeting. It was a lost case.
“I've thought about it and I don't think I can do it. I am sorry." Getting entangled with Taisho was an announced suicide, she would have earned that money honestly, it might have taken years but at least she would’ve done it calmly and serenely.
“So when you said you wanted to repay me, that was a lie too.”
“No, I was sincere. But I hoped there was another way."
“Then accept! This is the only way you can make up for it.” His urgent tone alarmed her.
“Believe me, I can't.” She was tired, she’d worked like a mule for eight hours, she wanted nothing more than to relax in the comfort of her room, to sink her head into her feather pillow and recharge her batteries for a new hellish day. Instead, Inuyasha-damn-Taisho continued to torment her with his crazy proposals.
“Nakamura-san, you still have twenty-four hours to decide.”
Those words erased any trace of sleep or tiredness from her mind, she found herself lucid and awake in an instant. She threw the pillow away and stood up, starting to pace back and forth—from the door to the window, from the window to the door—like a hunted beast.
"What? But you… you said a week! ” That last word sounded shrill, a scream in the silence of the house and she hoped no one had heard her. All she needed was for her mother to come and stick her nose in her troubles.
“There was an unexpected problem, I need you to decide quickly, more urgently than I thought.”
“Your impatience is castrating. I can't even think when you talk to me like that! ” It was the truth, that sort of awe mixed with the hatred she felt towards him put her mind in turmoil, a chaos from which she couldn't find a way out.
“Castrating?” he repeated the word in disbelief then sighed and she almost asked him if he was okay, “You really have no idea.” His voice sounded dejected, defeated, devoid of the piqued tone of moments before.
For a few moments they were silent, Kagome could only hear his breathing on the other end of the phone. “Taisho-san?”
“I'm in front of the shrine, Nakamura-san.”
"What?" her coming and going suddenly stopped and she found herself standing in the center of the room, as still as a statue. It must have been a nightmare, perhaps she had fallen asleep at the kotatsu next to her grandfather, while they were watching TV. She pinched the crook of her elbow hard and when the crescent of one of her nails cut into her skin until it draw blood, she realized with regret that she was awake.
“I told you I knew where to find you.” She got goosebumps and she wasn't sure if it was just from shock. His low voice so close to her ear had a strange effect on her, she felt her stomach do a somersault.
“You're a stalker, maybe I should be the one to call the police.” She whispered to herself, in a sort of trance.
But he caught that faint whisper. “I wouldn't say so, I'm just eager to put an end to this story. The sooner this play begins the sooner we can say goodbye. I'll wait for you here, don't make me climb all these stairs."
He hung up without saying anything else and she found herself with the cell phone stuck to her ear and her breath taken away.
She wasn’t someone prone to believe in the supernatural, but she really needed to stop her negative thoughts. All her fears were coming true by some sort of magic.