Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. But this baby? She's all mine… *evil grin*

Claimer: The shoot-three-bunnies stuff? That's me and nightfalcon222's. Don't steal it. Don't…

A/N: Another story…YAY! *throws up at disgusting usage of the word "yay"* Anyways, it's me…purduepup…in case you couldn't read my name up there! :P I don't really have anything to say about this story except it's Inu POV and will not only be covering Inuyasha and Kagome's relationship, but Sess/Rin's, Mir/San's, and Kou/Aya's as well. Everyone is human, too. It also is just showing Kagome's mature, positive outlook on life—this story isn't showing the ACTUAL meaning of life and other things, but more like lessons that Inuyasha will learn from and take into consideration (not to mention make him considerably smarter). This story, despite it being humorous and poorly narrated (stupid Inuyasha!), should also be kind of deep, so look out for that! WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AND EXTREME LANGUAGE AHEAD! Because I have a strong urge to curse in this story…and I don't know why… o.o And Inuyasha's…slow, but it's important later on, so DEAL WITH IT! XP He'll also get off track a lot, but don't all not-bright people let their minds wander on useless topics? ;D

Edit (5/18/13): Oh my god, I said I would make everyone in this story human, and then I mentioned wolf girls in Kouga's clan. (What even -) I just fail so much at life right now. -.-' Well, I'll just reword it for those who noticed so that everyone remains human, alright?

Summary: Inuyasha is a slow-minded, careless, lazy, sex-obsessed, and extremely cocky not-college-student in a competition for the inheritance to his father's talent agency. In tow in the competition for running Taisho, Inc., is his perverted, monkish, not-to-be-trusted, right-hand man Miroku and his controlling, violent, yet caring best friend and left-hand woman Sango. Competing against him for the company is his stoic, even more cocky, elder half-brother Sesshoumaru and his also cocky, straightforward, yet show-off rival Kouga. During one of the challenges, Inuyasha and the others have to choose between three small businesses to support and help grow; they have to work with the client, since they will benefit them most throughout the competition. But when one of those three clients turns out to be Kagome, an aspiring artist and philosopher working at Higurashi Shrine and Inuyasha's ticket to winning Taisho, Inc., Inuyasha's life turns upside-down. He's supposed to be focusing on the competition, dammit, not learning life lessons, regaining his memory, and falling in love.

THE COLORS TO ONE'S SOUL

Lesson #1: "A" Stands for Asshole

IQ LEVEL:

extremely low.
Like, unbelievably low.

"HOW COULD YOU?" Rebecca—Sally? Willa? Olly olly oxen free? Fuck, I wouldn't know, but she's making my damned ears bleed. "YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME!"

"WE JUST MET!" I scream back. Gods, what is she? Retarded? No, even worse—Paris Hilton?

Please don't be Paris, please don't be Paris…

Kami, last time I slept with a celebrity, things did not go well. As in, the restraining orders and paparazzi did not go well.

Fuck.

I can just imagine one of my meetings right now:

"Hello there, lawyers of stupid people! I'm Taisho motherfucking Inuyasha! Suck it—but not as badly as Betty did last night."

… If that's her name.

Hells, I wouldn't know! You try to get a slut's fucking name right when you're trying to break your friend's record for "Most Times Banged in a Week". Which, by the way, is a horrible challenge since you can't even count multiple times with the same women, much less the same spot.

Damn you, Miroku.

What's-her-name sniffles a little on the other line, and I resist the incredibly strong urge to roll my eyes and commit suicide through the phone, because my beautiful mother has taught me better than that. Stupid girl. Hasn't she ever heard of a one-night stand? Besides, last time I checked, you could not "fall in love" with someone when you met them at a bar, banged them horribly last night, and then stole their cell number later that morning. What crazy bitch believes in that shit?

Feh, my point exactly.

We didn't do it at my place, thank Kami. Since revealing the location of my apartment has caused many problems in the past, I've been told by my multi-advisor that it would be best to stick with the woman's place. Besides, every time I bring the ladies home to me and my roommates' penthouse, I always make them scream so loud that I can't get away with sneaking them in anymore. My female roommate lectures me on the insensitivities of one-night stands—when, really, the women should know what they're signing up for when it happens—whereas my male roommate cheers me on from the shadows. I know he does, that damn pervert.

I'm on my way to work, and this woman will not stop calling me. I mean, really? In numerical order, the following happened: we banged at her place (because of my roommate and apartment issues), she woke up, she stole my goddamn number, then she snuggled herself into me and fell back asleep. At least, that's how it probably went. Fuck, I wouldn't know. Anyways, I woke up, got dressed, and left 'cause that's what one-night stands are: fuck and runs. And what does said horrible-banger do? Call me on the number she stole and cry about how we were supposed to be together "forever"!

"WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TOGETHER FOREVER!"

What did I tell ya?

"THAT'S IT! I'M GETTING MY BOYFRIEND'S ASS ON YOU!"

Whoa, whoa. Boyfriend? Ass? Honey, I'm not gay. I'm as straight as a gay dude's hard-on to myself, though. (Hells yeah, I went there.) Sorry, but I don't do anal or threesomes.

Though men have tried…

"WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME?"

Many reasons. 1. You're crazy. 2. I'm driving, though that's really not a good reason to not talk on your cell phone. 3. You're still wacky. 4. You're annoying the fucking shit out of me. 5. You're completely nuts. 6. My ears can't handle this much whining. 7. You're majorly batty. 8. You're not important. Oh, and 9. YOU'RE EFFIN' INSANE!

"THAT'S IT! I'M TRACKING YOU DOWN!"

I growl in frustration. You know, I could drive into the wrong lane in my nice, shiny, purple BMW convertible. Really. Right now. I wouldn't mind death over listening to this whiny bitch, either. "SEE YA, JENNA!" I yell before chucking my phone out the window. Wait, did I even get her name right?

Keh, doesn't matter.

I crank up the rap music on the radio, making beat box noises all the meanwhile since it's the only thing someone can do when listening to rap. I mean, how the fuck can someone sing along with these rappers? Not me, despite my total awesomeness. Hells, I can't even understand what they're saying.

Yeah, girl, Imma buy you a diamond ring…

Yup. Not hearing it.

We gonna fall in love and get married…

Uh, nope. Still eluding me.

And we gonna have kids and be together FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND—

I'm not listening. It's totally incomprehensible. Really.

AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER—

It's blurring out right now.

AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND—

Oh, fuck this!

I change the station only to hear the same song. I huff and mess around with the station changer again. And again. And again.

And once more.

WHY ISN'T IT CHANGING? Oh, right: CD. Right, right, right… I press the radio button, and sure enough, I was just listening to a CD.

Huh. I didn't even know I had CDs.

Soon, the righteousness that is Taisho, Inc. comes into view. Ah. The absolute awesomeness of a talent-seeking agency conjoined with two dictionary and condom companies. Even more amazing?

I get free shipments.

Oh, what now, bitches? Jealous? You better be. I don't go to the sex store; the sex store comes to me.

I park my purplish-blue, bluish-purple baby in the gate, tossing my car keys to the valet. He looks at me for a moment before shrugging and popping into the vehicle. I momentarily note how crappy his clothes are—has the idiot never heard of style?—before he zips away.

Okay. I didn't just think that.

I do not remind me of my mother, I do not remind me of my mother—

Shit, I'm taking after Mom.

I walk into the building, not bothering to smooth out the jeans my mother bought me last week or the nice dress shirt my brother's mother gave me for Christmas seven months ago. Because they love me and enjoy emptying my father's wallet (though Sess's mom really shouldn't have access to it).

No, they're not trophy wives, even if one's an ex! How dare you—

Wait—"brother from another mother". Hehe… I'm awesome…

"Mr. Taisho?" Well, hello there, sexy secretary. New around here? "Your father and brother are waiting in the office." Oh, that's a nice skirt you have. "Mr. Taisho?" Maybe excusing ourselves for five minutes wouldn't hurt— "MR. TAISHO!"

I knock out of We're Banging in My Dreams Land. Wait, when did I get into the office's main office? I look at Sexy Secretary for help, but she merely stares at me before giving a soft shake of the shoulders, her blond and probably American curls bouncing with every movement. And that's not the only thing bouncing…

There're also her earrings.

You were thinking something else. I know you were. Who do you think I am? Miroku?

Absolutely freakin' disgusting.

I head through the halls Mom designed, forcing myself to look for changes. Kami knows I'll go through all eight hells and back if I don't notice that she added a new flower or repainted the walls or added furniture or—damn it all—gave me a nameplate.

Yes, I always was her favorite.

Suck it, Sesshoumaru.

Actually, I'd rather he not do that. What's-her-name's handwork is bad enough as it is.

I head into the elevator, whistling as the doors slide closed. Then I wonder what the secretary said. Something about Dad and earlier mentioned jackass? All I remember hearing was "whomp-uh, whomp-uh, whomp-uh, whomp…"

Can you blame me? Really. She was hot.

For some reason, I like being in the elevator. With my luck, I'm either all alone with no morons to annoy the shit out of me or I have a nice piece of ass nearby. Then again, I guess condom companies are all about getting lucky.

Ha! Clever, right?

The door opens and exposes a floor, but I forget which button I pressed… Oh, well. I guess I must be on the right floor—see? Awesomeness—'cause Miroku, my partner-in-crime (or in talent-seeking and condom-making), comes to greet me. "Inuyasha, my man!" he says before pounding my fist. You know: the knuckle touch. Insert explosion here. "Last night was pretty crazy, eh?" Noticing my wrinkled—yet still sexy, because it's impossible for me not to be—nose, he says, "What?"

"Last night's bitch was crazy, that's what," I tell him honestly. 'Cause it's true—you and I both know it, and so does my poorly treated dick. Gods, she doesn't know how to fuck—at all. "So, uh… What's goin' on?"

Miroku just stares at me for a moment. And I mean, he stares. And then laughs, "You met the new secretary, didn't you?"

"Feh." Because that's all there is to say.

He smirks. "You've always been the womanizer."

"Fuck yeah."

"Very observant as well," he comments smoothly. I narrow my eyes, trying to see if he's insulting me or not, if there's hidden sarcasm within that seemingly innocent voice. He and his never-will-be-his bitch Sango do that a ton (though Sango's nice about it, if possible). But I just shrug in the end. Feh, trying to figure them out is a waste of my time. Now, hot chicks and ramen…

I'll give them all the time in the world.

… If that's how the saying goes.

Hells, even if it didn't, I'd make it that way, 'cause I'm Taisho motherfucking Inuyasha!

Bitch got served.

"Keh, where's Sango?" I demand, not wanting him to revel in victory if he really was insulting me. Bastard, getting away with what he wants. I get away with what I want it, dammit.

And no one can measure up to me, obviously.

Idiots.

"She's getting your coffee right now," Miroku insists with a charming smile. I glare at him. I can never really tell when he's truly being nice or when he's secretly out to get me. Never. This is why I can't trust a guy like Miroku. I just can't. You'd think since we've been best friends for eighteen years—nine years ago being the beginning of middle school—that I'd have total faith in him.

I don't.

Sango, on the other hand, despite being totally violent and beating our asses daily, is trustworthy. Not a trickster, but a friend.

At my never-will-be wedding, she'd be the best man. That's how much I don't trust Miroku.

She joined Miroku and I in friendship during middle school, when Miroku decided she'd be his latest victim of grope. Sango kept him in line, though, and she does me, though I never hit on her—ever. That's like kissing your sister.

Incest? No thanks.

Sango's pretty much my sister; I ran away from home once and stayed at her house (since Miroku is not to be trusted). I swear, I became a permanent part of the Taijiya family that month until my mom finally called and apologized for letting me catch her and my father in their bedroom, putting Pops's latest product "to work".

AKA, they tested out the newest fucking condom.

Yeah, that was a good enough reason to live away from my parents for a month! Could you live with that shit?

Eck.

This commercial break is
brought to you by the color BLACK,
which stands for the following:

Power, sexuality, sophistication, formality,
elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil,
anonymity, unhappiness, depth, style, EVIL,
sadness, remorse, anger, underground,
good technical color, mourning, and death.

BLACK is not for everyone.
Please consult your doctor before use.
See if BLACK is right for you today!

Onward, and back to the story!

I never went to high school with Sango and Miroku. I don't remember why. I think the old man wanted me to start learning the family business—or at least his side of it, since his ex-wife runs the dictionary side; he makes the condoms and they both run the talent agency—but I think my mom pulled me out. I haven't gone to college, either. You'd think they'd make me go to school and all that shit, but all I have to do is stand around, be totally fucking AWESOME, and people let me be. Honestly, just having the Taisho name has been enough to get me by in the world, maxing out whatever cards my mother gives me and mooching off my father's money. He never objects, so there's nothing wrong with it. Honestly, I'm only gonna start paying for my own crap when I take over Taisho, Inc. Sango's my will-be assistant. It's already been decided. Miroku? That asswipe's gonna be janitor.

Creative? I know.

Just kidding, though, which sucks, 'cause I'd do anything to make Miroku a stupid janitor. No—that asshole Kouga's gonna be my cleaning man. It's official. When I win this competition, Kouga's not gonna be vice president; he's going to be cleaning my cum from the floor after I fuck every damned bitch in his family.

Evil? Completely. Heartless? Kinda. Totally worth it?

FUCK YES.

Anything to wipe that cocky smirk off the litter box he calls his face.

I could make my bastard of a brother janitor, I know, but I have the feeling daddy dearest will go against my wishes and insist that Sesshoumaru be my right-hand man.

My opinion?

I trust Miroku more than Sesshoumaru.

Enough said.

No, but Sango's insisted that Miroku not be janitor, since that apparently wouldn't impress my Pops any. Me, on the other hand—I think it's rather impressive to just look Miroku's way without killing him on the spot.

I repeat: Enough said.

Miroku's going to be my vice president if Fluffy Ass doesn't beat him to it. If that happens, he'll be my advisor…or something else CEOs need… What else would I need? Shit.

I dunno.

Gods-dammit.

As if on cue, my best (wo)man comes in with my coffee. Yes. I need my fucking coffee in the morning after a good round of sex.

I need it even more when the sex was bad.

I notice Sango carrying two mugs, though, and since they don't drink coffee…

Best man: chosen. Congrats, Sango.

She hands it over and I relish at the sight of the, uh, blackness of it. Mmmm… Remind me to promote Sango from assistant to personal assistant.

… If there's a difference.

"Good morning, Inuyasha," she sings. I merely make a mmm noise. She raises a brown eyebrow. "You have no clue what we're doing today, do you?"

Mmmm… COFFEE…

"Let me guess: bad sex last night?"

I blink. "How'd you know?"

Miroku shakes his head at me. "That eager to win the bet, huh?"

Mmmm…

Sango's magenta eyes narrow. "What bet, pervert?"

So good…

Miroku breaks into a sweat. "Well, Sango, um…"

COFFEE!

He lowers his voice as he whispers, "Inuyasha, help me out here!"

It's so luscious…

"Inuyasha?"

Coffee…

"INUYASHA!"

"HOLY SHIT!" It's not until after I jump that I hear the deadly breaking of a dish. I look around for the noise to see a broken coffee mug. I gape.

Pff, what idiot dropped their mug?

We need to fire this asshole for staining the carpet, not to mention wasting all that poor coffee. Really. Let's shove him off Tokyo Tower, drown him in the Pacific, chop off his—

"Inuyasha!" Sango huffs. I whip around to face her. "Why'd the hell did you drop your coffee?"

"Shit, that's mine?" I'm the idiot who dropped their mug? I was threatening my amazingly awesome self?

I was holding a mug?

Holy—

"Miroku, stop it," Sango demands, glaring at the laughing-on-the-floor semi-friend of ours. I don't get the humor in this situation. When Sango's pissed, nothing's funny.

I mean, it's not even shoot-three-bunnies funny.

Oh, fuck, who'd find shooting three bunnies funny?

Those sick bastards!

"You know he's not sharp!" she goes on, looking ready to jump on and strangle him.

"Who's not sharp?"

It's kind of quiet after that. Sango gazes at me with an emotion I'm not sure I'm comfortable with and Miroku stares at us for a while before laughing again and making Sango scream her lungs out.

Now I'm mad.

WHO'S NOT SHARP?

Whoever they are, I'm sharper. I know my alphabet, bitches.

A stands for asshole, B stands for bastard, C stands for cunt, D stands for dick, and F stands for—

Shit, where's the E?

She sighs after yelling, giving me that look with that emotion again. I frown, and she forces a smile. "Well, c'mon, Inuyasha and perverted company."

"Sango!" Miroku whines, and I roll my eyes. Gods, what an asshole. Can't he catch on to anything at all? Sango plus Miroku does not equal LOVE.

Keh. Love don't exist anyways.

Wait, I can do math?

Sango gives me my other mug, putting herself between Miroku and I. I'm usually in the middle to avoid grope from happening to her, but since she's shooting death glares at Miroku, I think he'll back off today.

"So," I say, treasuring every moment I have with this coffee mug. "What's going on today?"

Miroku stares again. And it annoys the hell out of me. But he keeps staring. Then when I'm ready to rip his head off?

He laughs.

A/N: And that was my new story, The Colors to One's Soul. My beta reader is nightfalcon222—she tells me whether the chapter sucks or not (which she always says it rocks, but still). :P Check out her story, "Lives Will Change"! :D I also won't update this often (it's hard to get into character), but I'm gonna try; it all depends on how many reviews I get! ^.^

Next chapter? Lesson #2: "Kitties Play Hard-to-Get". I'll let you wonder on who that chapter will be based upon… XD

Please, REVIEW and tell me what you thought! :D