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Raspberry Beret by phishbon3s

The kind you find in a second-hand store...

          First, this fanfiction was specifically written (and posted) for Dokuga’s Gift Exchange a couple of years back (not sure when 2-4 yrs ago). It was a present for Ceferadel. Finally getting around to posting it here too. Truth to be told, I forgot all about it.

          I do not own the following magazines: Forbes, Business Weekly nor Model Trains Monthly. I do not own CNBC. I do not own the song "Raspberry Beret", the Artist Formally Know As Prince does (or whatever he is going by these day). I do not own A Christmas Carol or Scrooged. I do not own InuYasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I do not make any money from this fan fiction. There, all the disclaimers are out of the way.



          At Momo Inc, a business meeting was in session regarding the current trend of the market. In attendance at this meeting, one Mr. Sesshoumaru Taisho, who was longtime business partners with Mr. Totosai Yanami, the current owner and president of Momo Inc. The meeting also included several tiers of other important suit wearing executives, all of whom we will ignore for the duration of this story.

          This meeting was nothing of importance, as meetings go. It involved charts, visuals, and lots of important numbers and figures. Totosai’s personal secretary was in attendance to tend to various meeting-related actions, such as refilling coffee cups, offering snacks from one of the local bakeries and taking notes when needed. The usual meeting scenario seen in many a board room. However, it is what happened after the meeting was called to a close that is where our story begins.

          Totosai and Sesshoumaru walked along the halls of Momo Inc., chatting amiably as they passed many offices and cubicles. It was work as usual on the seventh floor with the sounds of an office in full swing at the pique of business hours. Phones rang, the copier was beeping rather than humming (much to the chagrin of the poor clerk using it), cabinet drawers clicking shut and idle chitchat. Sesshoumaru’s response to the inquiry of his father’s health was cut by the slight squeak of wheels and an odd drumming sound upon metal.

          The distraction in sneakers bopped down the hall, pushing a mail cart nearly her size and swaying to some inner music. Stopping at several cubicles and offices, she dropped off mail and picked up the outgoing ones. Even as she greeted each person she passed, she still shimmied to the sounds no one else could hear. Pink lips mouthing words, barely there but a light whisper of sound. The closer she got the more clear her half breathed song got.

          "That's when I saw her, Ooh, I saw her / She walked in through the out door, out door / She wore a Raspberry beret / The kind you find in a second hand store / Raspberry beret"

          Her eyes seemed to light up as she noticed Totosai, and her hand moved to a pocket on the beige pedal pushers she was wearing.

          "Good afternoon, Mr. Yanami!" She smiled brightly as she bowed.

          "Ahh, Ms. Higurashi. Busy working I see."

          "Yes, Sir." She returned with a grin. "Would you like your mail now or with your secretary, Sir?"

          The old man looked toward the ceiling as he thought, hands behind his back. "What is in the pile for me?"

          Wrinkling her brow, Kagome flipped through her bundles and bins, grabbing a few boxes, a stack of letters and a few magazines. "The new Forbes, Business Weekly and Model Trains Monthly". She turned the box to read the label better, "Ooo, you got something from Mr. Ōtomo." Kagome's smile grew wider as she handed him the box.

          "Hosenki huh?" Totosai looked at the package and peeled back the wrapping finding a box of assorted chocolates with festive holiday designs on them. He flipped open the card, glanced over it and gave a snort. "The old coot is losing his mind again, sending me Christmas chocolates. He knows I just give them away." Totosai said with a long suffering shake of his head. "Don’t even like chocolate that much."

           He handed the box back to Kagome, smiling. "Here you take them. I’ll take the Trains Magazine, the rest go to my secretary."

           Laughing gently, Kagome thanked him and pushed some strands of hair behind her ear. Sesshoumaru, who was ignoring the meaningless exchange with this faceless worker, noticed the movement and saw a bit of plastic and wire sticking out of the young woman’s ear. So, she had been listening to some device, possibly an MP3 player of some brand. This explains the bizarre behavior she had been displaying. Not that he cared in the slightest.

          The group parted with Kagome going back to her duties, singing quietly to herself and the two business men heading toward the elevators.






          Kagome was in high spirits as quitting time drew near. She excitedly discussed holiday traditions with her coworker and friend, Sango. Kagome was going Christmas shopping tonight before heading over to her mother’s to decorate the tree with her family. Happy scenes of Christmases past danced in Kagome’s head as she rushed through the parking structure, her scarf and long coat fluttering behind her. Now if she had been paying more attention, she would have put more distance as she rounded the cars. If she had been paying attention, she would have felt the slight tug as her scarf caught on the hood ornament of one the cars she passed. But with the visions of sugar plums that were conga-ing through her head, Kagome noticed none of this.






          Sesshoumaru stood there, keys in hand and looking down at the mass of blue and grey hanging from his hood. This scarf, if one could call the tangled bundle of yarn such, was hanging from the polished ornament like a multicolored fish on a hook. Loathe to touch it, Sesshoumaru used his handkerchief to pick it up and held it at arm’s length. But as he was about to toss it aside, the movement sent a trickling of scent into the air, a delicate mixture of sandalwood and black cherry. Being partial to the woodsy smell of sandalwood, Sesshoumaru brought the scarf closer his nose and tested the air again. He decided, against his better judgment to keep the scent-laden cloth a bit longer and opened his car door.






          The damned scarf would not leave him be. He had draped it across the arm of his couch, before heading to his study. Submersing himself in watching CNBC, he let the numbers lull him and ease the tension of the day. The headache that was building behind his eyes was finally releasing him from its iron grip, and peace was brought with another deep inhale. Sesshoumaru was not sure how it happened but an hour later found him sitting back in his leather chair, nosed buried in the woolen yarn. His eyes shot open as he realized what he was doing, only to narrow accusingly at the bit of crocheted fluff. Its grays and blues seemed to mock him, teasing him with its softness and scent.

          Right then and there, Sesshoumaru decided that he would find out who at Momo Inc. owned this vexing garment. Once he saw the obviously unworthy (judging by this handmade monstrosity) woman, his budding obsession would swiftly die. No matter how attractive the scent, he would judge the female unworthy.

          Case closed.







          A few week had passed and we find Sesshoumaru preparing for the Christmas Party Totosai was throwing for his friends, business partners and employees. He threw one every year. The old man fancied himself a Fezziwig-like boss, but A Christmas Carol this was not.

          Sesshoumaru finished the knot in his bowtie and glanced toward the bane of his existence. He had yet to find the owner of the vexing fragrance and the scarf had already lost its scent some time ago. But Sesshoumaru just couldn’t bring himself to dispose of it. As time had passed, albeit such a short span of it, he had began to imagine the owner of it and things had changed from feelings of disgust to curiosity. He had to know who.

          Sesshoumaru grabbed the woolen item, clutching it to him and walked toward the door.






          The Christmas party was in full swing, and swinging it was. Someone had long ago spiked the punch and passed out photocopies of a woman‘s posterior. Though he would admit it was a tight little ass and the panties made it look like a heart. One could only hope they wiped the glass off afterwards, Sesshoumaru mused as he crumpled the paper before casually tossing it at the trash bin. Many were dancing drunkenly and singing just as atrociously, obviously the predecessor of hangovers and regrets.

          Sesshoumaru stood against a wall, sipping spiced wine and debating when it was appropriate to leave. Staying at least two hours would be considered polite, he mused. His little space of wall connected to the window, giving him a wonderful view of the city below, lights twinkling like stars against the snow.

          However, all of this came to a halt as a body collided with his.

          "Damnit." Sesshoumaru cursed under his breathe as his wine sloshed out of his glass.

          "I am so sorry." Came the worried voice behind him. "Did I spill your drink? Ugh. I did. I am so sorry. Is there a stain?"

          Sesshoumaru turned angrily to the soon-to-be victim of his wrath when he looked into a pair of doe eyes.

          "Oh, Mr. Taisho. Are you ok?" Kagome asked.

          The scathing reprimand died upon his tongue just as his mouth opened and he inhaled, the scent before him registering in his brain.

          His eyes widened as he took a delicate sniff again.

          Sandalwood and black cherry.

          It was HER.

          Composing himself, he straightened and fixed Kagome with his stare. "Quite fine, thank you. Excuse me." And with that, Sesshoumaru walked purposely toward the elevator.






          Kagome was embarrassed that she tripped. But she was horrified that she tripped into Mr. Taisho. "Oh man."

          "Smooth move, Kagome." Sango laughed with a toast of her glass, the "punch" making her cheeks rosy.

          "Hush you."

          The elevator dinged.

          "Ooooo ‘Gome. Someone’s standing under the mistletoe." Sango pointed up, her voice taking on a sing-song lilt.

          No way. No freakin’ way.

          Kagome slowly looked up, like she was expecting to see a giant man-eating spider dangling above her


          Fear coiled in the pit of her stomach as Kagome closed her eyes and looked down. No sooner had she taken a breathe, did she feel a light, fluffy weight on her shoulders and a pressure on her chin, making Kagome raise her face to him.

          Determined to get it over with, Kagome kept her eyes squeezed shut and steeled herself for the inevitable. Warm breathe ghosted over Kagome’s lips as the man’s own lips barely grazed hers.

          "I have found you."

          Lips, warm and soft slanted against hers. A velvet tongue asked permission. Her moan was his to take.

          When they parted, Kagome felt the warmth leave her and the room seemed colder. Kagome opened her eyes to see a swirl of silver hair as Sesshoumaru began to walk off. Her hand raised to touch her lips but was caught on something soft. Looking down, Kagome saw her scarf and her head shot up.

          Grabbing the hem of his waistcoat, Kagome whispered the word that would change them both.






The end


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