Chapter Text
Koga called it a “family dinner,” which made Kagome want to roll her eyes. On Sunday evenings the restaurant was closed and the entire staff of Atelier sat down to a meal. Really, the purpose was to help the waiters familiarize themselves with the selections on that week’s prix fixe menu so they could make recommendations to the customers, to give the line cooks an idea of what they were helping create, and for the busboys well… she supposed it helped prevent them from trying scraps off of used plates in front of the customers during the week. Busboys and line cooks could be a bit feral like that. The whole event also served as an all hands meeting on the only night the restaurant was closed.
This week there was a particular kind of nervous energy coursing through the packed room. Koga was going to announce the new chef after Rin, the beloved Chef who had had guided the restaurant with kindness and skill, announced she would be retiring after decades as the Chef de Cuisine. The entire restaurant had known for weeks that this was coming, they were only awaiting the official word from Rin and Koga.
“I heard that Sesshomaru finally got that famous chef brother of his, Inuyasha Taisho, to move to San Francisco and work here,” Ayumi whispered conspiratorially to Kagome and Sango. “He’s supposed to be really good, and I heard he’s really cute too.” Neither Kagome nor Sango, her best friend and roommate, cared much about the world of elite fine dining, with all of its drama and intrigue. Kagome was an artist who planned on quitting the moment she could afford rent on her art alone, and Sango taught self-defense and kickboxing during the day. She was saving up to open her own gym. This was just a job, to them.
“Imagine having Sesshomaru for a brother,” Sango said.
“Imagine being his wife,” Kagome stage-whispered back, glancing at sweet, kind-faced Rin where she stood in the corner watching as the staff enjoyed the food she prepared. She didn’t look a day over 22, but Kagome knew that was what happened when you were married to a demon. She wasn’t sure why; she’d never had the courage to ask. All she knew was that whenever Sesshomaru, who owned the restaurant group that owned Atelier, came in to dine there was a strange chill in the air and everyone walked around the floor with slightly stiffer posture than usual. She’d waited on him once and that flat gold stare sent a bolt of cold fear shooting through her heart.
Kagome caught the way that Koga glanced back at them and knew he was hearing every single word they said. She blushed when he winked at her and Sango prodded her side.
“Just say the word and I’ll deck that guy,” she whispered behind her hand. Everyone in the restaurant knew about his infatuation with her, it was a bit of a running joke that Koga had no problem encouraging even though Kagome had repeatedly shrugged him off and his behavior made her want to die of embarrassment. Sango said it was sexual harassment, and she was absolutely right.
“I heard he’s a half demon,” Yuka whispered as if that fact was some kind of illicit secret. Kagome supposed it was. Humans had been forced to accept demons; they protected each other with deadly force, but half-demons were outcasts to both communities with no such protection. Things were better now, especially in a city like San Francisco, but that kind of prejudice never truly went away.
“I heard he’s really cute,” Ayumi said dreamily.
“Why are you three suddenly so interested in this stuff?” Sango asked, narrowing her eyes at the inseparable trio of waitresses. Like Kagome and Sango they had never really expressed interest in their work beyond the fat tips they took home at night and used to buy equipment for their punk rock girl band. They were constantly texting the other wait staff to ask for coverage because they’d booked a gig, or they were opening for some slightly bigger band that was playing a dingy club.
“They’re only interested because they heard he’s cute,” Kagome said teasingly.
“I also heard that he’s a huge asshole,” Eri said, ignoring Kagome’s comment.
Koga stood up at that moment and banged his fork against his glass.
“Listen up, people!” He yelled over the low din of clanking silverware and gossiping waitstaff. “Rin has an announcement!”
Rin thanked him with a small nod and stood at the front of the room.
“I’d like to thank all of you for many years of hard work. Without all of you Atelier would not have grown to become the restaurant it is today.”
“And without her husband’s fat checks,” Eri whispered to one of her friends. Kagome shot her a slightly disapproving look. She might not know Chef Rin very well but the woman had always been kind, and patient. She didn’t think Eri’s slightly snide remark was fair.
“I understand some of you have already guessed that my husband, after years of pursuing him, finally convinced his little brother to come on so that I can retire. I know Chef Inuyasha’s reputation precedes him but I want to say that I know him both personally and professionally and I would not have been willing to leave this place to anyone other than him. Please give him all of the same support you’ve given me over the years.” She paused for a moment, hesitating. “And please, give him a chance.” The way she phrased that did not bode well in Kagome’s mind.
“A round of applause for our esteemed Chef de Cuisine,” Koga hollered after she finished. The assembled group erupted into enthusiastic applause. Some of the line cooks wolf whistled and thumped their hands against their tables, sending plates and silverware clanging noisily into the air. “Now, as far as the business side goes, Chef Rin and I worked with Chef Inuyasha this week to make the necessary purchases and design the menu for this week while he wrapped things up in San Francisco. He and his Sous Chef, Miroku, start tomorrow when we open for dinner.” Koga droned on about boring managerial topics that Kagome tuned out. Instead she focused on finishing the seared scallops, lemon risotto, and hydroponic greens in front of her.
So, even if Rin and her staff had technically cooked it for tonight, this was the famous Inuyasha Taisho’s creation? She inspected the scallop at the end of her fork. She had to admit, the food tasted incredible. She didn’t know enough about fine food to form more complex opinions about what she was currently eating.
That night she and Sango paced home from their bus stop at 16th street and Folsom arm in arm. Kagome was blathering on about the gallery that had contacted her with interest in some of her work while Sango listened politely to her friend’s enthusiasm. The two of them lived in a squat, dingy turn-of-the-century building in the Tenderloin District. Their apartment was above a record store and an empty retail space that their landlord had allowed Kagome to use as a studio until he could find a tenant for the tiny, impractical space. It was so old that their shared bathroom still had pastel pink tiles from the fifties and a sink with two separate faucets for hot and cold water. Occasionally the record store downstairs had local bands or DJs perform, and on those nights the thump of heavy bass or screaming guitar floated up into their apartment through creaky, ancient floorboards. Kagome visited the record store often and had even put Ayumi, Yuka, and Eri in contact with the owner who booked them for gigs every so often.
Even though their place was shabby, it was San Francisco. Without their waitressing gigs pulling in sometimes $300 in tips per shift there was no way she or Sango would be able to afford their share of the rent.
“Hey, Hojo!” Kagome called as she and Sango mounted the creaking, rusty stairs at the side of the building that led up to their second story apartment. Hojo was locking up the record store for the night.
“Hey Kagome, Sango!” He waved cheerily. “How was work tonight?”
“No work, just this dumb mandatory dinner our manager insists we all eat together,” Kagome said.
“Hey look at it this way: you’re getting food from a Michelin star restaurant for free! Not bad!” Hojo was always relentlessly positive. It could honestly be a little grating sometimes.
“Well, goodnight Hojo, see you around!” Kagome waved to him and hustled Sango up the stairs alongside her.
Inside their apartment Kagome flopped on the couch and rested a hand over her full stomach. The walls of their apartment were covered with pieces Kagome’s artwork she’d grown to attached to to sell and Sango’s kung-fu movie posters. It made for an eclectic, some might say chaotic, appearance.
“What do you think the new chef’s gonna be like?” Kagome asked curiously while Sango moved around in the kitchen behind her to pour herself a glass of water.
“As long as he makes food well enough that I’m still getting the tips I’m used to I don’t really care,” Sango answered honestly.
“Well I’m first shift tomorrow night so I’ll find out soon enough,” Kagome said. “I’m glad, though, hopefully a big name hotshot chef will mean more rich folks and bigger tips.”
The next day Kagome ambled down the wide sidewalks of the swanky Nob Hill street where Atelier was located in a converted old house. She pulled the thin forest green pea coat she wore tight over the fitted black button down and black pencil skirt she was required to wear to work. Most of this block was made up of tightly packed pre-war houses standing shoulder to shoulder that had been converted into business. Atelier was in one such building, with thick green ivy covering half of its facade and a deep red awning hanging out over the sidewalk. Its paned windows glowed with buttery yellow light from the restaurant inside. Kagome avoided the small groups of tourists and strolling couples as she made a bee line to the employee entrance in the narrow alley on the side of the building.
Kagome hung her coat in the little locker that she shared with Sango in their dingy break room before she walked out and onto the dining room floor. Inside the restaurant itself almost all of the walls for the bottom floor of the former house had been torn down. The dining room floor was covered in shining, polished wood and crammed with linen-covered tables. In the corner Jakotsu was thumbing through his sheet music at the piano, getting ready to fill the space with skillfully-played but nondescript background music. He wiggled his fingers in a wave when he spied her and she grinned and waved back. He had both a tip jar and his phone with a small little white scanner attached to swipe credit cards for tips sitting out on the shiny lid of his piano.
There was already a line outside. Some customers had their faces pressed against the glass windows, peering curiously inside while waiters crawled around the restaurant to prep for their first seating. Kagome sighed when she saw that. Someone was going to have to clean those smudges off of the glass.
She pushed her way into the kitchen, a huge, white, sterile room full of gleaming stainless steel appliances. In here it was about 20 degrees warmer and the room was in complete chaos, a stark contrast when compared to the calm tranquility outside. Line cooks were yelling at each other over the cacophony of utensils, pots, and pans clattering together and the sizzle of food. There was a woosh as a flame briefly leapt toward the ceiling a few feet away from where she stood. A scallop flew through the air and nearly hit Kagome in the face. One of the line cooks dashed by her yelling “BEHIND!” and she jolted in surprise, tripping over her own feet and falling back until two warm hands caught her firmly. She looked down just in time for the stainless steel bowl the person had been carrying to clatter to the ground and send its contents, what looked to be marinated duck breasts, scattered across the vinyl floor tiles
“Fuckin’ hell!” A rough, low voice yelled behind her. Inuyasha blinked down at the shiny black hair of the clumsy girl he’d just reflexively caught. She smelled incredible, like the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the spring. He couldn’t stop himself before he took a deep breath while he held her there.
Kagome looked down at her arms and saw claws on the fingers that held on to her, then twisted around and looked up to see who had just caught her.
Her jaw dropped both in shock and in horror when she realized belatedly that she’d just caused the new chef to drop a plate, and because Ayumi was right, he was drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his embroidered, double-breasted chef’s coat open over a tight white t-shirt and Kagome could both feel and see that he was all lean, hard muscle. She noticed a few black tattoos that peaked out where his long sleeves ended. He had an angular and handsome face and honey-colored eyes that felt like they were burning into hers. His long silvery hair was pulled up in a messy bun and atop his head was a pair of adorable triangular ears that Kagome desperately wanted to touch.
Inuyasha stared down at the girl he caught with growing irritation. Was she fucking stupid? Had she suddenly gone mute? She just stared at him. His white-hot anger grew when her wide eyes darted to his ears, to his eyes, and then back again.
“What the FUCK are you doing in my kitchen?” He roared. React first, ask questions later, that was always how he dealt with the world and he wasn’t about to change that for a pretty face. Her face turned beat red and she yanked her arms out of his hands, her eyes darting briefly to his claws again. His anger only grew when he saw that.
“I- I just-“
“You must be one of those dumb bitch waitresses fucking Koga always hires,” Inuyasha spat at her, infuriated at the way she’d pulled away from him like his skin burned, like he could taint her just by touching her. She was exactly Koga’s type: slender and pretty, with thick, wavy black hair, a delicate face, and eyes the color of the ocean. “That motherfucker only hires dumbass women he wants to fuck, I swear to god,” he growled. The entire kitchen had paused its frenetic activity to drink in the scene greedily. No doubt the line cooks would regale the next shift with how their new boss had torn Kagome a new asshole right in front of everyone, and whisper about it with the busboys out in the alley while they passed a blunt or some flat beers around and hid from Chef.
“Excuse me?” Kagome asked, her voice squeaky and indignant. She balled up her fists angrily.
“You heard me, now unless you have a reason to be here get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
“Just who the fuck do you think you are?” Kagome yelled. She looked at the name and title embroidered on his open chef’s bib. “Inuyasha,” she spat. “You don’t just get to treat me like that!”
“That’s Chef to you. And I’ll treat ya however I want. Now get. Out. Of. My. Kitchen.” He drew out each word and snarled at her, stabbing a clawed finger toward the door she had just come through.
Before she could think of how to answer him he swept past her and stomped away, yelling to the room: “Get back to work! And somebody clean up that shit!” The kitchen staff instantly began working again, a small wave of fear rippling through them.
Oh I could just strangle that man! Kagome thought as she pushed through the door to re-enter the dining room. She saw that the hostess had begun seating customers in her section but she needed a minute to gather herself. She stomped out and into the alley, where she rested her head against the cool facade of the building and took a few deep breaths. She pulled out her phone.
Kagome: Met the new chef. TOTAL ASSHOLE.
Sango: Wow that was quick.
Sango: Is he at least cute like Ayumi said?
Kagome let out a frustrated little squeak at that and chose not to answer Sango. Even over text her best friends could always tell when she was lying.
“I’m sorry about that,” a voice said to her from somewhere to her left. She snapped her head up and tucked her phone away guiltily. “Don’t let Inuyasha catch you on your phone while you’re on the clock or you’re in for a repeat performance.”
“Sorry,” Kagome said.
“I’m Miroku, the new Sous Chef,” he said. She shook his extended hand and smiled timidly.
“Ah, you’re the one Inuyasha brought specially with him,” Kagome said. Miroku nodded. “Is he always like that?”
Miroku cringed. “I wish I could say different but…”
Kagome sighed. “Got it,” she said, hanging her head.
“Sometimes you have to put up with a lot of shit when you’re working with a genius,” Miroku said. “He’s pretty obsessive, You’ll get used to it.”
Kagome rolled her eyes at that. That exact attitude was why this industry was so notoriously sexist and toxic, why it repeatedly chewed people up and spat them out. She was about to say as much when something occurred to her that made her snap her mouth shut again.
Up until only recently Inuyasha definitely had it way worse than me, she thought. He probably still gets a lot of shit. Guilt suddenly weighed on her mind when she remembered the way she’d stared at his ears and then snatched her arm away from his clawed grasp. She could easily see how he could take that for revulsion, rather than an embarrassed girl who was apparently incapable of reacting normally to a man she was attracted to. She didn’t say anything more, just smiled at Miroku.
“So… should I be addressing you as Chef, too?”
“Only in front of Inuyasha,” Miroku said. “He’s really into the kitchen brigade system, whether the restaurant calls it a line cook or a Chef de Partie.”
“Of course he is,” Kagome remarked flatly. Miroku smirked.
“Come on, I think there are some people seated in your section already,” he said, holding the door open for her. “And, as I’m sure you can imagine, Inuyasha doesn’t appreciate it when the customers’ experience of his food is marred by bad service.”
As she crossed over the threshold, feeling a little better but also fretting over how she’d reacted to the new Chef and how he probably took it, she felt something touch her rear ever so lightly. At first she figured it was her imagination, or maybe she’d somehow accidentally brushed against a wall, until she turned around and saw Miroku’s hand on her ass.
She leapt away from him and gasped.
“Miroku!” She yelled. “What the hell?”
He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. She didn’t have the energy or the patience to deal with that, so she just walked calmly back onto the floor, making sure to slam the door in his face behind her.
Inuyasha was still on her mind when she greeted her first table that evening, her fake customer service mask firmly in place. It was a group of tech bros. They were easy to spot because they always dressed way too casually and, if they brought women, the women were always well out of their league. She took their drink orders before moving on to her next table: a well-dressed elderly couple who were already ready with their drink and appetizer orders. They were quick and to the point and they didn’t claim to have decided but then make her wait around while they browsed the menu again: her favorite type of customer. Her third table was full of questions about the new chef. They were most likely food bloggers or influencers. She’d learned to spot those, too, even before they whipped out their phones and starting snapping pictures of their meals. She wasn’t worried about that table; she would’ve been given advance warning if she was serving any restaurant critic who would be taken seriously.
She put her ticket in at the kitchen for the appetizers. Inuyasha was prowling through the throngs of people milling around, shouting, and working, keeping a keen eye on the preparations and pausing every so often to check on the food that he himself was making. He smelled her as soon as she walked in and she felt it when his eyes landed on her. She scampered back out as quickly as she could after she dropped her ticket.
Inuyasha snatched the girl’s ticket out of Bankotsu’s hands as soon as he pulled it from the aluminum clip above his station. Her table wanted the croquettes and aged prosciutto di parma for their appetizers. He growled when he saw that she topped each “I” with a little heart. Stupid fucking bitch. He crumpled the ticket and threw it in Bankotsu’s face. The line cook stared at him with his mouth agape.
“That’s your station, get started,” he barked.
Out on the floor Kagome’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she approached the bar to put in her table’s drink orders. Jinenji was an incredible bar tender, her customers always gave rave reviews when he was making their drinks, and he was one of the kindest people she’d ever met.
“Hey Jinenji,” she said. He smiled softly at her.
“What can I do for you, Kagome?” He asked in his deep, gentle voice.
“I’ve got a table who want five old fashioneds,” she said. She slumped against the bar top and watched as he got to work, lumbering over to grab a bottle of Four Roses from the shelves behind the bar. Some places would’ve made the cocktails with well liquor, probably Jim Beam, but not Atelier. “You look upset,” Jinenji observed as he worked, splashing bitters into the three glasses in front of him. She sighed.
“It’s the new chef, he hates me,” she said.
“Why do you think that?”
She glanced over to see that there were only a few customers sitting at the bar and waiting for a table, and they were several yards away.
“Well for one he called me a dumb bitch,” she said. He looked up with shock in his wide baby-blue eyes. “I think I may have deserved it, though.”
“I doubt that,” Jinenji said. He’d made quick work of the drinks he was making, he was already peeling oranges for the garnish to finish them off.
She suddenly realized: he was a half-demon, she could ask him if how she reacted to Inuyasha could have been misinterpreted as some kind of horrible, nasty prejudice against him. And then immediately she felt ashamed of herself for having that thought. Jinenji was her friend, it wasn’t fair to burden him with all of her doubts about her interactions with other half demons. It wasn’t his responsibility to make her feel better about herself.
“Thanks, Jinenji,” she said as she loaded the drinks onto her tray. “You’re a good friend.”
He graced her with his customary soft, gentle smile. “So are you, Kagome.”
As she was delivering the drinks she saw that a fourth and a fifth table in her section had already been seated. She got to work and forgot about Inuyasha, mostly.
When the tech bro table had finished their meals and drank two more rounds of $15.00 cocktails their cheeks were slightly flushed from the alcohol.
“Could we meet the new Chef?” One of them asked. “We just want to give him our compliments on our dinner tonight.” When Rin was in charge she would regularly come out to greet the tables. It made customers feel important, especially when she remembered regulars, and normally meant a small bump on all the waitstaff’s tips. Kagome was sure that was the real reason she did it. Kagome smiled blandly at the table of tech bros, dropped their bill, and promised she’d go retrieve the Chef for them.
She gulped when she pushed the door to the kitchen open. Inuyasha was yelling at Renkotsu about the way he was filleting a strip loin. Once again he smelled her when she opened the door to his kitchen, her scent was so sweet it was just on the edge of cloying. It was fucking intoxicating, which pissed him off.
Kagome felt herself quaking in fear while she walked up to him, but she was determined not to let her voice shake.
“Inu-” she caught herself before she finished. “Chef?” Inuyasha closed his eyes in exasperation when he heard her clear, bell-like voice. He turned to growl at her.
“I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of my kitchen,” he said. He knew it was impractical, waitresses had to drop tickets and pick up orders, but he was already tired of smelling her, seeing her pretty face, and remembering all over again how infuriated she’d made him with the way she twitched away after he saved her from falling, wasting duck meat that had been a bitch to source in the process.
He expected her to look somewhat chagrined, or to shy away from him, but instead she crossed her arms and looked him square in the eye. One of his eyebrows raised curiously without his permission.
“I believe you said stay the fuck out of your kitchen unless I have a reason to be here,” she pointed out primly, a cheeky smile on her face. Inuyasha growled, but she ignored him. “One of my tables wants to speak with you and give you their compliments. It’s gonna be a huge bill otherwise I wouldn’t bother you. I told them I’d bring you out, but I can always take Chef Miroku if you don’t want to.”
Inuyasha growled. He hated talking to the customers, but he also knew it was expected of him. He snatched the knife out of Bankotsu’s hand and showed him the proper way to cut the meat with a growl, tossed the knife down, and started violently buttoning up his chef’s jacket. He fucking hated wearing those things.
“Fine,” he said. “Take me to ‘em.”
The girl gave him a small smile that was not adorable and she turned on her heel to lead him out of the kitchen.
No matter what restaurant he was working in, Inuyasha’s spine always tingled unpleasantly when he had to actually step out onto the floor. He didn’t like the subdued atmosphere, the gentle music, the clinking of utensils, or the soft mutters of polite conversation. He thrived in the sweat and chaos of the kitchen where he could bark orders at people and yell at someone when something went wrong. He didn’t do well with politeness or subtlety. When he started out as a lowly half-demon busboy and dishwasher he would often sneak away to smoke outside the employee entrance and avoid clearing tables like he was supposed to.
“Hey guys,” Kagome said to her table. Inuyasha stood behind her with his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, trying not to breath out of his nose while she was standing so close. He eyed the customers: a group of boys who couldn’t be older than 24, all underdressed, with cheeks stained red from their drinks. “Here’s our new chef, Inuyasha Taisho. We’re really lucky to have him.” Inuyasha’s ears pricked to try to detect the deception in her voice. There was none that he could hear. This girl really had her customer service facade down.
“I wouldn’t pull him away from the kitchen for just anyone, but you guys have been great.” He didn’t miss the way she winked at them and gave them a dazzling smile. Oh, she was good. All of the men at the table looked like they were infatuated with her, they watched her with parted lips and wide eyes. “Take whatever time you need, finish your drinks and order more if you want, the bar is open late. I’ll leave you to chat with the Chef.” She smiled again and left the table, flouncing over to check on her other customers and leaving Inuyasha on his own.
“I’m glad you all enjoyed the food,” Inuyasha said awkwardly, hunching his shoulders. Most customers who knew who he was had only heard his name, but didn’t know he was a half demon. They were often stilted and polite to his face, but sometimes some of them left bad reviews about how surprised and upset they were that they hadn’t been warned ahead of time about a hanyo handling their food. None of that mattered once he was working in Michelin-star restaurants, places like Atelier didn’t have to worry about disgruntled Yelp reviewers, but the memories still stung.
“It was great, man,” one of the guys at the table said.
“So cool that you’re a hanyo, too. Kudos, seriously. Must’ve been really hard to get to where you are.” The guy who said that raised his empty glass to Inuyasha. He resisted rolling his eyes.
“I appreciate it,” he ground out, trying hard to keep his face looking somewhat pleasant. He glanced at the receipt that they’d already signed. They left a three-hundred dollar tip on a bill that was a little over a thousand dollars. The girl’s easy charm apparently worked really well.
“We’ll be coming back, for sure,” one of the men at the table said. “I’ve been here a lot, and I feel like you really brought a fresh perspective to the menu. Chef Rin was nice, but you’re really an innovator.”
Inuyasha ground his teeth together and felt his eye twitch involuntarily in annoyance. Like these guys knew what they were talking about. He he was no more talented than Rin, and she literally built this place from the ground up. He made an effort to school his face so that it hopefully looked neutral.
“Chef Rin helped train me, and took a huge risk when she did,” he said. “I owe a lot to her.”
One of the other guys nodded.
“No doubt, very cool of her.” He tipped his empty glass to Inuyasha, who was itching to get back into the kitchen. He couldn’t imagine what the line cooks and Miroku were fucking up while he was gone. “Well, thanks, dude, it was really incredible.”
“Thank you,” he said in a voice that was just on the edge of a growl. “Excuse me, I have to get back to the kitchen.”
The table of men nodded at him and he practically fled, desperate to make his retreat. He breezed past the girl as he made a beeline back to the kitchen, avoiding the curious gaze of the customers who had spied the Chef de Cuisine title on his annoyingly hot and constricting chef’s jacket. He ducked into the kitchen and ripped the buttons on the stupid, stiff garment open. He immediately noticed that one of the redheaded busboys was slipping out of the door into the back alley instead of clearing the tables that he had seen were still dirty in the restaurant. He grabbed the door before the busboy could pull it closed.
Kagome watched the whole thing unfold while she was dropping another ticket and she ran after Inuyasha and Shippo, determined to defend the young fox kitsune against Inuyasha’s wrath. When she got outside the Chef was already yelling.
“The fuck are you doing?” he shouted. “There are tables in there that haven’t been cleared, go do your fuckin’ job!”
Kagome physically put herself in between the Chef and the young fox demon. She glared up at Inuyasha. She could feel Shippo shivering in fear behind her.
“Leave him alone!” She yelled in Inuyasha’s face. He was taken aback for just a split second at the way her eyes flashed and her jaw hardened.
Shippo bit back a quiet sob behind her. He was only a kid, and he just lost his parents a few months ago. She wasn’t going to let Inuyasha bully him. Inuyasha could scream at her as much as he wanted, she could take it, but Shippo didn’t deserve to fall victim to his wrath.
“If he’s not gonna bus tables then why’re we payin’ him?” Inuyasha growled.
“I’ll just do it myself then!” Kagome shouted back at him. She took a deep breath, calming herself and schooling her voice so that she sounded somewhat calm before she spoke again. “Give Shippo a minute, I’ll clear his tables and take care of mine,” she said.
She planted her hand on Inuyasha’s chest and pushed him away from Shippo. She ignored how warm and firm he was beneath her fingers.
“Go back inside. He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Kagome tried her best to make it clear with her tone that she wouldn’t tolerate any argument from Inuyasha.
Inuyasha had no idea what it was that compelled him to follow her orders. He usually made it a point to never take orders from anyone. But somehow her words spurred his body into action without his permission. He paced back to the kitchen with his hands shoved in his pockets, grumbling to himself the whole time, and left the girl alone in the alley with the little demon bus boy.
Kagome turned to Shippo with bright, concerned eyes.
“Thanks Kagome,” he said with a sniffle. “I don’t know if I can stay on with this new chef, he’s too mean.”
Kagome put her hands on his shoulders and met his eyes in a gesture she hoped was comforting.
“You know you can do anything you set your mind to, Shippo, first of all,” she said. Normally she would encourage him to find another job, but she knew the money was an absolute necessity for him. Ever since his parents died he had to take over his own college fund, and he had to pay for his school supplies. His foster parents wouldn’t pay for that stuff, that much Kagome knew. “Let me run interference for you with the new Chef. He already hates me, anyway. You’ll be fine.”
Shippo sniffled.
“Thanks, Kagome.”
“Take all the time you need out here. Just let me know where you left your bussing tub so I can take care of your tables for you.”
“It’s by the dishwashing station.”
Kagome smiled softly, patted Shippo on the shoulder, and dashed back inside after she gave him an encouraging smile. She found the black rubbermaid tub he used to collect dirty dishes and silverware right where he said he left it and dashed back out onto the floor.
Inuyasha watched from the shadows at the very back edge of the floor while the girl whose name he still didn’t know darted around, clearing that fox demon’s tables and every so often leaving the thick plastic tub full of dirty dishes at one of the empty tables to check in on a group of customers in her section. She even stopped by the hostess’ stand to make sure that the line wasn’t getting too long since it was taking her a few extra minutes to get her customers out of the door. Inuyasha grumbled.
“Good first night so far,” he heard Koga say next to him. He was so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed the fucking wolf sidling up to him.
“It’s been fine,” Inuyasha grunted. “Who’s that girl?” He pointed a claw over to the girl who was currently dropping a bill to two couples who looked to be on a double date. Koga sighed and, when Inuyasha glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the wolf had a small smile on his face.
“That’s Kagome,” Koga said in a soft, dreamy voice that was very unlike him. “I’m gonna make that girl mine someday.”
Inuyasha rolled his eyes.
“So ya haven’t changed the way you hire waitresses, you fuckin’ creep.”
Koga rounded on him and looked more serious than he’d ever seen the wolf in his entire time in the restaurant industry.
“Kagome’s special, leave her alone,” Koga said.
“Feh. Special? Her?” Inuyasha crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’ll do whatever I want,” he said. “You’d best remember that my fuckin’ brother will fire you if you don’t keep me happy.”
Koga inspected Inuyasha out of the corner of his eye. He knew the chef was right, getting Inuyasha to actually come work at Sesshomaru’s restaurant had taken decades of pursuit. It was very clear to him that while he was replaceable as a business manager, Inuyasha was not replaceable. It was why the hanyo got away with being an asshole to everyone he met.
“If she quits because of you I’m gonna be pissed,” Koga said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get over it in two seconds,” Inuyasha said, although he wasn’t so sure. He’d known Koga for a while, had come across him at various industry events and even worked with him a few times. He’d never seen Koga’s face look so soft and rapturous. For some reason that train of thought made him have to fight back a growl that rumbled unbidden deep in his chest.
He thought back to the way the girl; Kagome, he thought, had put herself in between him and that scrawny little bus boy with no hesitation, the way her eyes flashed and her jaw was tight and determined. “ ‘Sides I don’t think she’s gonna be quittin’ anytime soon,” he said to Koga. “That one’s tough.”
He turned on his heel and got back to the kitchen. He growled when he spied the way that Renkotsu was julienning the turnips that would go with the Rohan roast duck breast he had sourced from D’Artagnan Farms. He picked up the sloppy, uneven pile of turnip strips and threw them in the garbage. A few missed, scattering all over the floor. He pushed Renkotsu aside with his shoulder and deftly made the quick, clean knife movements to evenly julienne the vegetable in about 30 seconds.
“Even slices, you fuckin’ moron,” he said, grabbing the turnip he’d just cut and shoving them into the line cook’s face. “If you have to go slower to actually do it right then do that.” He stood with his arms crossed, watching over Renkotsu’s shoulder, before he got back to searing duck on the industrial stovetop.