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Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or its characters. And I don't make any profit from this story. The only thing I get is extreme satisfaction.



Hello. I’m here again. I am writing this chapter with All American Reject’s Gives You Hell in the background. I love that song. Anyway, I introduce Miroku in this chapter. Please review.



Chapter 2



Miroku Houshi woke up and after a few moments realized he was alone, which was unusual since he remembered very well that his arms were wrapped around a female body when he'd fallen into a satiated sleep several hours ago. He looked around the hotel room and then at the clock. It read 3:08 AM. He should still be bloody asleep right now. Oh well, never mind. Now what was he just thinking??

Oh, something about a woman? An actress?

Ah yes, he quite remembered now.

Kaguya.

Tall, slender, with a long, straight curtain of red hair and eyes of so pale a brown they were gold. Kaguya, like any other woman he had met had given them great pleasures and he’d like to believe he gave the same. But that was it. No emotional ties, no talks of future togetherness and other nonsensical sentiment he wanted no part of.

Miroku's name offers him a lot of favorable instances where he gets to be associated with the most beautiful and the sexiest women. And, it appears that Kaguya is one of them. So where the hell was she? It was still dark outside, and the twisted sheets beside him were still warm, so she couldn't have been gone long. He frowned slightly at the thought of a woman having the audacity to leave him in the middle of the night. Was she left unsatisfied?

Miroku groaned as he remembered the events last night. Bar, Beer, Bed. What a series of events. Coming home to Japan was what he exactly envisioned, except for his friend Inuyasha whom he informed of his arrival. But to his disappointment, he learned that Yash was attending a business matter somewhere in East Asia.

Needing to get away from the scenes of his previous heated lovemaking, he stood up and walked out of the bedroom, not bothering to cover his body. Only to find out he wasn't really alone after all.

Kaguya stood in the terrace with her back to him, a glass of water in her hand. Her nakedness was only masked by the fine hair that stretched almost to her waist.

Miroku instantly felt a thrilling of renewed arousal as he looked at that glorious body— legs long and silky, hips and waist slender, curvaceous, breasts firm, the nipples rosily pouting, as if begging to be kissed. Again.

“You might catch a cold,” he said huskily as he walked slowly across the area to join her, with only the moonlight for illumination.

“I’d wager you could get me warm,” she answered him hoarsely, holding up the glass of water she had been drinking from. Miroku, apparently, was thirsty too, but not for water. Removing the glass out of her hand, he placed it on a table near the window, and his eyes darken as his head lowered to lick one tempting nipple. He looked up into his lover's face as he stroked his tongue moistly over that sensitive tip, feeling the increasing hardness of his own body as she moaned low in her throat. He needed to drive his body into hers. He straightened to swing her up into his arms, capturing her mouth with his, tongue plundering, as her arms moved up about his neck, her fingers becoming entangled in the darkness of his hair.

He gently laid Kaguya down amidst the tangled sheets and entered her.





As Miroku walked quietly through the halls of Tashio International, it occurred to him that running a business is not at all a miserable thing to do when you are a Takahashi. There is something special about their way of managing the business that he could not pinpoint. Maybe it was because he never had the same great parents as Inuyasha’s to guide him. Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha and their younger sister Sango, were lucky fellow to have such wonderful parents.

“I’ll be damned,” he sighed.

It’s not as if he hadn't enjoyed his journeys across the globe. He'd traveled the length and breadth of Europe, sailed the exquisitely blue seas of the Mediterranean, and delved into the mysteries of North Africa. From there he'd gone on to the different neighboring countries, and then, when inquiries revealed that it was not yet time to return home, he crossed the Atlantic and explored Asia. Ten years of staying away from his birth country gave him a lot of time to think, a lot of time to learn what it meant to be a man.

He had been planning to live in the United Sates of America when he'd learned that his father, ill for several years, had finally died. He wouldn't trade his years of exploration for anything and yet the only reason the then-eighteen-two-year-old Miroku had left Japan was because his father, Ginta, had suddenly decided that he was finally willing to accept his son.

He and his mother weren’t his father’s first family. In other words, Miroku was born out of marriage and immorality. But he had learned about this only when he was thirteen years old. All of a sudden, his father’s absence during his birthday parties and other special events in his life made sense. He learned that his true wife couldn’t bear a child. His mother, God bless her soul, had become his champion. When she saw how Miroku was suffering from their situation, she made him choose, them or his wife. The bastard got angry at had chose his barren wife. And when his wife died a year later, Ginta stood on their doorway, informing them of his plans to marry his mom.

Miroku saw rage and using all of his 18-year-old body strength, he landed a solid punch on his jaw. The next day, they flew out of the country and never went back.

Now, however, he was glad to be back. There was something soothing about being home, something peaceful and serene about Japan springtime. And after years of solitary travel and studies abroad, it was damned good to find his friends again.

He moved silently through the halls, making his way to the ballroom.

But as he turned a corner, he heard voices, and he froze.

"No.”

No? Are the employees arguing?

"Hiten," the woman was saying, "you really shouldn't have followed me out here."

“What I’m asking is only a date.”

Miroku nearly groaned. He wasn’t a fan of eavesdropping, particularly the part when a man begs a woman to go out with him. It was painful to listen to.

"Hiten," she said again, her voice surprisingly kind and patient, "my brothers have already warned you.”

"But they don’t understand!"

"Yes," she said firmly, "they do. Just try force me again and they will kick your ass."

Miroku blinked in surprise. The gentleness of the woman’s voice was now lost, replace with such vigor it made him want to back out.

“Come on,” the man encouraged.

“No.”

He leaned forward slightly so that he could get a glimpse of the scene. The girl was in shadows, but he could see the man quite clearly. His face held a repulsive expression, and his shoulders were slumped forward in defeat.

He was beginning to feel like the worst sort of voyeur. He started inching backward, keeping his eye focused on the hall that leads to Sesshoumaru’s office.

But then, just a footstep away from a clean getaway, he heard the girl squeal.

"You have to!" Hiten cried out. "You have to! I'll never find anyone else—"

"Hiten, stop!"

Miroku turned around, groaning. It looked like he was going to have to rescue the woman and yet he has no desire to play a hero. He strode back, putting his sternest, most strict expression on his face. The words, "I believe the lady asked you to stop," rested on the tip of his tongue. But it turned out that he wasn't fated to play the hero tonight, because before he could make a sound, the woman pulled back her right arm and landed a surprisingly effective punch squarely on the man’s jaw.

The guy named Hiten went down, his arms comically flailing in the air as his legs slid out from under him. Miroku just stood there, watching in disbelief as the girl dropped to her knees.

"Oh my," she said, her voice squeaking slightly. "Hiten, are you all right? Damn you, you made me do it. I didn't mean to hit you so hard."

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

The woman looked up, startled.

__________________________________________________________________________

Kagome stepped in the plane and saw the extremely comfortable seats. And that moment, any seat would work for her. She arrived at the Puerto Prinsesa International Airport and will just need to take the fifteen-minute ride via plane to arrive at Amanpulo resort of the Pamalican Islands. She glanced towards the front of the plane to see several tourists file into their respective seats.

A few minutes later, the plane began to move and headed out to the sea. She settled back in her seat, trying not to think too hard about the people she had left behind and the uncertainty that lay ahead. She turned her attention, instead, to the brilliant blue expanse of sparkling water and could already see a small dot of land. The island zoomed larger on the horizon as the distance diminished.

She looked outside through the window to see that they landed at a small helipad situated at the rear of a palatial resort. A cool breeze blew of the water as a crew helped her down the few steps onto the ground. A chill raced up her arms. There was a sense of wonder as though she had stepped into some wild paradise. She blinked as the bright sunshine hit her eyes.

“I hope you had a wonderful trip, Ms. Higurashi.” A woman greeted her by her name. She encircled a necklace of flowers around her neck. The pleasant scent must be sampaguitas.

“Yes, thank you.”

The woman led her to the entrance of the hotel she’d stay in. She was chattering something about the history of the resort and other things she hadn’t fully heard. She stood near the entrance noticing how vast and remarkable the place in. Some parts were in wood with narra floors and lauan columns and ceilings. The place was breath-taking.

And to think that she was going to spend an entire week here in this remarkable place, even more wonderful. A week of enjoying, relaxing, without the board of trustees keeping an eye on her. She could barely contain the anticipation coursing through her veins.





“So everything is of perfect condition?” Sesshoumaru asked from the other line.

“Yes,” Inuyasha answered, “I took care of it, Sessh.”

“Good job.”

“I’ll sort out the details when I get back. See you in a week.”

Just as Yash flipped close his phone, he looked around the hotel and felt a tinge of relief. The previous storm that hit the Philippines caused some minor casualties but not serious enough to stop them from operation. There are really just things over which the Nature is powerful of.

He studied the lobby, surveying his staff, checking if everything is in order before taking his afternoon nap. It was something he couldn’t do often back in Japan. This was the time to relax, he thought. And definitely the place.

The Amanpulo is one of the Amanresorts of the world. But this particular resort sets on its own island, Pamalican, and is an escape from all the possibly horrible experiences of mankind. The island is secluded and very private that offers a variety of sea, sand, tropical island and exclusive comfort. And despite Inuyasha’s earlier inhibitions about the trip, he was actually enjoying himself just at the sight of the sparkling sea that seemed to be inviting him, seducing him like no other woman had.

Damn, did he just think of that? Seriously, a sea?

He groaned inwardly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sex.

Oh, right. He did. With Kikyou. But it had been weeks.

He looked away from the sea.

Instead, he motioned to Totousai, the manager, and directed instructions to him. Inuyasha liked the old man despite his mood swings and playful banters and trust his knowledge when it comes to running the hotel.

“I tell you, son,” he was saying, “women have been asking for you.”

“Yeah?” He answered distractedly when he began surveying the new arrivals of the day. The tourists had begun pouring in because the annual bikini contest that they host is taking place on Friday. It was one of the reasons his father sent for him.

“I told them not to bother. I said you have an STD.”

“Hmmm.” He absent-mindedly gave a nod. From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman standing in the middle of the area. He immediately noticed her because she just stood there, not moving a little bit while the rest of the people rush in and out of his hotel. He thought she was lost.

He looked back at the old man; then suddenly realized what was said.

“You said what?” he roared.

The old man just grinned. “Got you,” he smirked.

Inuyasha shook his head. “You’re impossible, old man.”

Totousai cocked his head. “You weren’t paying attention to what I was saying. The employees have been asking for a raise and I couldn’t bear to--”

Inuyasha ignored him. “I’ll talk to you later.” He waved an arm and walked away.



Life, Sango decided, couldn't possibly get much worse. First she'd been forced to spend the week without her brother, Inuyasha and could only pry a lunch date from Sesshoumaru’s busy schedule, especially now that Yash is somewhere enjoying the sea. And then, Hitomi, Inuyasha’s secretary squeal, “Miss Sango, I didn’t expect you here,” which must have captured Hiten's attention, who had just a meeting with one of his associates in their company. His head had snapped up like startled bird, and he'd immediately started hurrying across the corridors. Sango had hoped, no prayed that she could outrun him and make it to the ladies' retiring room before he caught up with her, but no, Hiten had cornered her in the hall and started wailing out his interest for her.

It was all embarrassing enough, but now it appeared this man—this shockingly handsome and almost disturbingly poised stranger—had witnessed the entire thing. And worse, he was laughing!

Sango glared at him as he chuckled at her expense. She'd never seen him before, so he had to be new to Japan, or at least to their company. But of course, this man could be married and therefore not on Izayoi’s list of potential victims.

His face was quite simply perfection. It took only a moment to realize that he put all of Michelangelo's statues to shame. His eyes were oddly intense—so blue they practically glowed. His hair was thick and dark, and he was tall—as tall as her brothers, which was a rare thing.

This was a man, Sango thought wryly.

Why that annoyed her so much, she didn't know. Maybe it was because she felt like a plain woman sitting there on the floor in his splendid presence. Maybe it was simply because he was standing there laughing as if she were some sort of circus amusement.

But whatever the case, an uncharacteristic peevishness rose within her, and her brows drew together as she asked, "Who are you?"

Miroku didn't know why he didn't answer her question in a straightforward manner, but some devil within caused him to reply, "My intention had been to help you, but you clearly had no need of my services."



"Oh," Sango said, sounding slightly calm. She clamped her lips together, twisting them slightly as she considered his words. "Well, that’s too bad. I you had showed up earlier, I would not have had to hit him."

Miroku looked down at the man on the ground. A bruise was already darkening on his chin, and he was moaning.

“Tsk, tsk.”

Sango scowled at him, clearly not appreciating his attempt at subtle humor—and also clearly not realizing that his heavy-lidded gaze had rested on portions of her anatomy that were not her face. "What are we to do with him?" she asked.

"'We?'" Miroku echoed.

Her scowl deepened. "I thought you said you were going to help me."

"So I did." Miroku planted his hands on his hips and assessed the situation. “Do you want to sue him?” he asked.

“What?” she shrieked. “No, there won’t be any suing.”

“Don’t you think your concern is slightly misplaced?”

"He didn't try to attack me," she replied. "He just... He just... Oh, so okay, he tried to attack me. But he would never have done me any real harm."

Miroku raised a brow. Truly, women were the most contrary creatures. "And you can be sure of that?"

He watched as she carefully chose her words. "Hiten isn't capable of malice," she said slowly. "All he is guilty of is misjudgment"

"You're a more generous soul than I, then," Miroku said quietly.

Miroku felt a strange sort of admiration for this girl. Most women of his acquaintance would have been in hysterics at this point, but she—whoever she was—had taken the situation firmly in hand, and was now displaying a generosity of spirit that was astounding. That she could even think to defend this Hiten person was quite beyond him.



She rose to her feet, dusting her hands off on her pants. Her hair had been styled so that one thick lock fell over her shoulder, curling seductively at the top of her breast. Miroku knew he should be listening to her—she was prattling on about something, as women were ordained to do—but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off that single dark lock of hair. It fell like a silky ribbon across her swanlike neck, and Miroku had the most appalling urge to close the distance between them and trace the line of her hair with his lips.

What could be the harm? It wasn’t as if he were going to ravish her. Just a kiss. Just one little kiss.

It was tempting, so deliriously, maddeningly tempting.

"Sir! Sir!"

With great reluctance, he dragged his eyes up to her face.

"Were you listening to me?"

"Of course," he lied.

"You weren't."

"No," he admitted.

Miroku watched with fascinated interest as she took a deep breath and muttered something to herself. He couldn't hear her words, but he doubted any of them could be construed as complimentary. Finally, her voice almost comically even, she said, “If you don't wish to aid me, I'd prefer it if you would just leave."

Miroku decided it was time to stop acting like such a lout, so he said, "My apologies. Of course I'll help you."

"I suppose we could just leave him here," she said, the expression in her dark eyes hesitant.

Miroku thought that was an excellent idea, but it was obvious she wanted the idiot cared for in a tenderer manner. And heaven help him, but he felt the strangest pressure to make her happy. "Here is what we're going to do," he said crisply, seemingly thinking very hard. Then he gave a lopsided grin. "Actually, I haven't the faintest idea."

For a moment Sango forgot to breathe. Just when she'd decided that her would-be rescuer was arrogant, he had to go and smile at her like that. It was one of those boyish grins, the kind that melted female hearts within a ten-mile radius.



And, much to Sango's dismay, it was awfully hard to remain thoroughly irritated with a man under the influence of such a smile. After growing up with two brothers, both of whom had seemed to know how to charm ladies from birth, Sango had thought she was immune.

But apparently not. Her chest was tingling, her stomach was turning cartwheels, and her knees felt like melted butter.

"Hiten," she muttered, desperately trying to force her attention away from the nameless man standing across from her, "I must see to Hiten." She crouched down and shook him none too gently by the shoulder. "Hiten? Hiten? You have to wake up now, Hiten."

"Sango," Hiten moaned.

The dark-haired stranger's head snapped around. "Sango? Did he say Sango?"

She drew back, unnerved by his direct question and the rather intense look in his eyes. "Yes."

"Your name is Sango?"

Now she was beginning to wonder if he was an idiot.

"Yes."

He groaned. "Not Sango Takahashi."

Her face slid into a puzzled frown. "The very one."

Miroku staggered back a step.

He suddenly felt physically ill, as his brain finally processed the fact that she, indeed, looked like a Takahashi. Damn t all, this was Yash’s sister! Bloody hell.

There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.

While he stood there, probably staring at her like a complete idiot, she planted her hands on her hips, and demanded, "And who are you?"

"Miroku Ho--," he muttered.

"Houshi?" she squeaked.

He nodded grimly.

"Oh, dear."



Miroku watched with growing horror as the blood drained from her face. "Woman, you're not going to faint, are you?"

She looked offended that he'd even considered the notion. "Of course not!"

“Good.”

“I was told that you are friends with my brother, Inuyasha.”

“Yes, but I am here to see Sesshoumaru since Inuyasha isn’t in town.”

“Yeah,” Sango said, studying him intently.

“I can’t imagine why I didn’t recognize you," Miroku murmured.

Sango raised a brow. "You’ve seen me before?"

He nodded. "You were just a kid back then."

An awkward pause fell across the conversation. Sango was shifting from foot to foot, not at all certain what to say to the duke, when Hiten exhibited stellar timing for the first time in his life, and sat up. "Sango?" he said, blinking as if he couldn't see straight. "San, is that you?"

"Good God, Miss Takahashi," he swore, "just how hard did you hit him?"

Her brow furrowed. "Hard enough to knock him down, but no worse than that, I swear."

"Oh, Sango," Hiten moaned. “Please be with me.”

"Buck up, man," Miroku grunted, grabbing him by the collar. “This is getting embarrassing."

He turned to Sango. "I'm going to have to take him outside now. We can't leave him here in the hall moaning like a sickened cow—"

"I rather thought he'd already started," Sango said. Miroku felt one corner of his mouth twist up in a reluctant smile.

She was, it occurred to him, the sort of person he'd probably call friend if she were a man.

But since it was abundantly obvious—to both his eyes and his body—that she wasn't a man, Miroku decided it was in both of their best interests to wrap up this "situation" as soon as possible.

"I'll haul him out of here," he said suddenly. "You go back to your brother."

Sango frowned, glancing over her shoulder to hall the leads to Sesshy’s office. "Are you certain? I thought you wanted to see him."

"I’ll stop by some other time. I realized you do not want to speak of this event to him?" he asked.

She nodded her agreement, and asked, "Are you sure you can do it? Hiten is a large man."

"I'm larger."

She cocked her head. Although lean, he was powerfully built, with broad shoulders and firmly muscled thighs. (Sango knew she wasn't supposed to notice such things)

More to the point, he had a certain air about him, something almost predatory, something that hinted of tightly controlled strength and power.

Sango decided she had no doubt that he'd be able to move Hiten.

"Very well," she said, giving him a nod. "And thank you.”

Suddenly, Hiten promptly reached for Sango, practically sobbing her name. Miroku had to brace his legs to keep him from lunging at her. Hiten regained his energy (although clearly not his equilibrium) and yanked himself free of Miroku's grip. He threw himself onto Sango, making incoherent noises all the way.

If Sango hadn't had her back to the wall, she would have been knocked to the ground. As it was, she hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud, knocking all the breath from her body.

"Oh, for the love of Christ," Miroku swore, sounding supremely disgusted. He hauled Hiten off Sango, then turned to her, and asked, "Can I hit him?"

"Please go ahead," she replied, still gasping for breath. She'd tried to be kind and generous toward her suitor, but really, enough was enough.

Miroku muttered something that sounded like "good" and landed a stunningly powerful blow on Hiten's chin.

He went down like a stone.

Sango regarded the man on the floor with poise. "I don't think he's going to wake up this time."

Miroku shook out his fist. "No."



Sango blinked and looked back up. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he said, scowling at Hiten.

She said suddenly. "Let's just leave him here."

"Very well," he said simply, and dropped Hiten.

The sudden weight of him nearly took Sango down to the floor as well. She let out a surprised squeal as she ducked out of the way.

"Now may we leave?" the duke asked, sounding insufferably patient.

She nodded hesitantly, glancing down at Hiten. "He looks rather uncomfortable, don't you think?"

Miroku stared at her. Just stared at her. "You're concerned for his comfort?" he finally asked.

She gave her head a nervous shake, then a nod, then went back to the shake. "Maybe I should—That is to say—Here, just wait a moment." She crouched and untwisted Hiten's legs so he lay flat on his back.

“There, now I'm done." She stood and looked up.

And just as she looked up, she managed to catch sight of Miroku as he walked away, muttering something about Sango and something about women in general and something else entirely that she didn't quite catch.

She doubted it had been a compliment.

___________________________________________________________________________



Inuyasha’s gaze traveled down her thick, black hair that hung curtain down to the middle of her back. As she tipped her head to one side, the fall of hair shifted, off her shoulders. She wore a pale-blue tank top that looked as if it had been glued onto her body, and the tiny denim skirt, just covering her behind. Her shapely legs looked smooth and tanned and about three miles long. She wore black, sky-high heels on her small feet, and her ankles looked as fragile as her thighs looked sexy.

Sexy?

The woman oozed sex.

His fingers curled into fists. Scraping one hand across his face, he inhaled sharply and watched, spellbound, as she lifted her right foot and rubbed it slowly against her left calf.

Need spiked.

His body went instantly hard as he stared like an idiot at her ass.

His breath shuddered and his heartbeat staggered.

And then, as if guided by that sixth sense only females seemed to possess, she whirled her head around and turned to him, which made Inuyasha turn his gaze from her ass to her breasts.

Oh my. He tried, really, really tried to look up and see her face but he stood there staring at her chest.

The woman cleared her throat. Loudly.

He finally jerked his head up to see that she was looking directly at him with a suspicious frown.

Her face was beautiful, but hell, it was difficult to picture her seduction when she was scowling at him.

“Did you enjoy the view?” she asked sarcastically.

Inuyasha grinned like a madman. “I did. Very much, if I may say so,” he admitted, hoping that the woman would smile.

It didn't seem to do the trick. In fact, she looked even more irritated then just a split of a second passed and she smiled. Seductively, and it felt like a hit in his gut. Ever so slowly, she inched closer to him. Inuyasha held his breath and stroked her hair. Inuyasha thought they were behaving indecently, but for the love of all that’s holy, he didn’t care a single bit. The woman circled her arms around his neck, blew in his ear and whisper, “Too bad, you couldn’t handle me.” Then with the speed of a lightning, she raised her knee and made a painfully, direct contact to his groin. Inuyasha moaned in pain and watched as the woman fluttered her fingers in a wave good-bye to him, and then she sashayed off, leaving Inuyasha there gaping like an idiot.



Author’s Note: I love this chapter so much! I hope you like it too, enough to review, that is. Thank you for all your support and please keep on watching out for my updates.

_figarra017_