Hidden Hanyou

He sat with his back to the open door, drink in hand.  Though set to retire after the long work day, it was imperative that he await the pick-up of his field reports.  His impatient commander-in-chief required at least twenty hanyou be sent by train to Akita for bridge construction, and Naraku Takeda was certain he would have twice the quota by next afternoon.  Yes, he would remain at his desk, but only because it was his duty to make sure the rules were followed and the job done.    

Sipping the liquor, he ran through his schedule for the next day.  He would be driving downtown for a meeting with the mayor to go over the plans for the new Purification center in the area that was directly under his jurisdiction, to his tailor for a fitting, and there were papers to sign, orders to give and it was about time that Kagome was sent her allowance. 

Ahh.  And unless mistaken (something he took it upon himself never to be), then tomorrow was also her birthday.  A call would be in order.  Mentally adding this to his itinerary, he swiveled around in his chair and sat the drink on his desk before retrieving a slip from a drawer.  He filled out the money transfer form and placed it onto a nearly over flowing out-box for his assistant to collect within the hour.  It would be best to take care of it now, tired as he was, for he was fairly certain that if payment was not forthcoming, his little laundress would be calling in the very near future to complain.

Grabbing his glass, he stood, casually treading towards the window that faced the narrow main lane of the encampment.  His long fine hair swished somewhat across his back, nearly disappearing against the black of the overcoat. Wiring money over to Kagome always upset him a little, and tonight was no exception. 

Patience, he internally admonished.  Soon the situation would be remedied.  He planned to ask for her hand within the next few months, when he was assured of his promotion, and once they were married, then no longer would he allow his little pet to confer his hard earned money haphazardly to her family.  Yes, he wanted the girl, but why should he be saddled with such an unsolicited burden?  But, for now, he allowed her this indulgence, for what was a few dollars a month when it served the purpose of keeping him in Kagome’s good graces?

And in her good graces he fervently wished to stay.   

Taking a larger swig, he asked himself, not for the first time, why it should be so?  He could not own up to loving her, though from the first time they had shared a meal together—not to mention a bed—he was transfixed: lured by her face while concurrently disconcerted by her youthful essence.  He was drawn to her, he could not lie, but as time went on, he wondered if perhaps it might have less to do with Kagome herself than the subconscious appeal of her spiritual aura; for as the months drew on, he perceived that she grew more quiet and guarded while in his presence. 

Yes, it must be her Miko heritage.  For in spite of her lackluster performance in the bedroom, he could not resist taking her whenever he was in Tokyo, though that in itself happened so rarely he could count the number of times he had had her.

Weary eye trained out the window, he caught the hulking form of his assistant as the man lumbered towards the bungalow, displacing any further thought of Kagome.  Naraku turned back, sat the now empty glass on his desk and began to button his coat, readying himself for the night's biting air.  He would hand off the paperwork to Akihiro and turn in for the night.