Title: The Subject

Rating: M

Summary: Aspiring writer Kagome Higurashi has no experience whatsoever in love. So bringing her worst enemy, InuYasha, into the picture was supposed to give her the proper inspiration. Let's just say she got way more than she had bargained for.

Disclaimer –

Kei: I do not own InuYasha!

Justin Bieber: Yeah! Even me, the most popular girl— I mean chipmunk— I mean—

Kei: . . . Just . . . shut up . . . you don't own anything either (THANK GOD). And here's a fun question for you reviewers! What do you think of Justin Bieber?

His songs suck.

His voice reminds you of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

His fan girls will probably be the death of everyone.

All of the above

Other.

"—and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, from behind her . . . Nah. Backspace, backspace, backspace . . . He grabbed her out of nowhere and then punched . . . his lips to hers . . . ? Backspace . . . 'I love you, Airi!' 'OMG, my heart knew it was you when I first met you, Aram—' . . . BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE!" I groaned then repeatedly hit my head against the computer screen.

Why did romance stories have to be so . . . difficult?

I mean, you have to avoid making the plot cliché and the whole thing flufftastic, but you still have to make sure it has feelings?

How people make a living out of it beats me.

But then again, I was never the romance type of person. Sure I enjoy reading it and all, but if I had a choice, action and adventure would be the only thing I write.

So, you're probably wondering why I would even try writing a romance in the first place. Feel free to blame my brother. While we're at it, blame the library too. If it wasn't for the library, the novel contest wouldn't have existed. If it wasn't for my wonderful brother (note the sarcasm), I would be oblivious to this whole contest business. Just think about it. I could have been typing away happily on my computer, writing a perfectly bloody gore scene, right where I should be.

Well, actually, I could have written in the action category of the contest . . . if it wasn't for my cat, Buyo. Because of him I was late to sign up for the category of my choice. It wasn't my fault that I didn't know chocolate was bad for cats too. I had to scrub all morning to get my Milky Way off the floor.

Then maybe it was chocolate that I should blame for its toxic-to-cats quality. . . .

Frustrated and hungry, I turned the computer off, not even bothering to save the lousy draft. Buyo lifted his head with a questioning expression then let it fall back to his crossed paws lazily. I huffed.

"Stupid little. . ." I grumbled. "This is your fault, too." He sneezed in response. I don't know if this makes me crazy, but it almost sounded like some retort. I narrowed my eyes. "Well! No treats for you," I said, putting an emphasis on treats.

His ears perked up right away. I smirked as I pulled a bone-shaped treat from out of my pocket. I then turned my back on him and opened the door. "Oh, I'm starting to close the door. . . ." I slowly began pulling the knob, keeping Buyo within my line of vision. His head was raised. "It's getting close now. . . ." He hopped off the bed. "I hope Buyo doesn't mind letting go of this baby. I mean, after all. Treat time is his favorite time of day." I sighed trying to hold my laughter in. Before I knew it, there he was, staring right at my left hand. With an even wider smirk, I threw it into the laundry room. He bolted for it. Right as his jaws caught the treat, I slammed the door on him.

His outraged shrieks were muffled from the door, more so from my laughter.

As I sat down on the kitchen stool, my mom raised an eyebrow at me. "Did anything happen up there?"

"Oh, you know," I said while hiding a smug smile from view, "just playing around with the cat."