An Anime Christmas Carol

I thought this up a while ago, but I never got around to it until now. Still, I hope you like it. Also, I'm sorry if this seems to be lacking something, but it's been a while since I read or saw any version of 'A Christmas Choral'. I don't own any anime.

Inuyasha Marley was dead to begin with. As dead and rotting as the casket that held him. The business that he had run in life was now owned by the only person who had ever been his friend, living or otherwise, Fukuyama Scrooge. (A/N: don't ask me where I got the idea to play what character in what role; I have no idea myself.)

Fukuyama Scrooge was a tall, old man; although, despite that, he still looked pretty young with only grey hair and winkles to show his age. Our story begins about a year after Inuyasha Marley was dead, on Christmas Eve. Fukuyama was walking down the street at the moment, not too wrapped up. He didn't mind the winter. It was just like him; cold, sharp, and hard. And, at times, as solitary as an oyster. Even the pervertedness he had once had in

Finally reaching his business, Fukuyama knocked the snow off his sign, and walked inside. "Good morning sir," someone said. Fukuyama turned to see his clerk (and most loyal employee), Yukinari Cratchit. "Yes, yes," Fukuyama said, waving him off as he walked over to his desk, "it's ok, I guess. Now get back to work." "I guess you right," Yukinari said, going back to his own desk to work. Just then, the door opened, and a man with hair as bright as the sun, and a mood to match. "Merry Christmas uncle," the man said. "Bah, humbug," Fukuyama said, "what's so merry about it? Don't answer that, Minato."

"Christmas, a humbug," Minato said, "nonsense uncle. Christmas is a time for happiness and cheer." "What do you have to be happy about," Fukuyama said, looking up from his work for the first time, "you're poor enough." "What reason do you have to be irritable," Minato said mockingly, "you're rich enough."

Fukuyama rolled his eyes. "Anyways," Minato continued, "I just came to see if you want to join me at my annual Christmas party tomorrow." "Can't," Fukuyama said, going back to his work, "too much work. Besides, how can someone like you, with little money, think of throwing a decent enough party?"

"Christmas is a blessing," Minato said, "and even though it has never put a dollar in my pocket, I embrace it all the same. I think that is decent enough for a party; and so I say 'Merry Christmas' to all." "Bah humbug," Fukuyama said. "Very well," Minato said, bowing, "I guess I'll leave you to your work. Merry Christmas everyone." "Merry Christmas," Yukinari and the other workers said as Minato left. "Bah humbug," Fukuyama said after Minato closed the door.

Soon after Minato had left, there was a knock at the door. Yukinari opened the door, to which two men came in and walked up to Fukuyama. "Greeting sir," said the fatter of the two, "my name is Shirai and this is my associate Haitani. We are from the church, which go from house to house, trying to get homes for the poor."

"Really," Fukuyama said, looking up. "You see sir," Haitani said, coming out from behind his friend, "we find people can't always afford to stay inside, so we go from house to house, taking up a charity so that they may have a place to stay." At the words 'taking up a charity', Fukuyama frowned and looked back down.

"So," Shirai asked, "Mr. uh… do we have the pleaser of meeting Mister Scrooge, or Mister Marley?" "Mr. Marley," Fukuyama said, pointing his cane at a large picture of a man dressed in red with long black hair, "passed away this very day, three years ago. I keep his name on the sign in his memory, for he was my best, and only, friend."

"Oh," Shirai said, putting a hand up to his mouth, "I'm terribly sorry… So, Mr. Scrooge, how much should I put you down for?" "None," Fukuyama said simply. "You wished to remain anonymous," Haitani asked. "I wish to remain alone," Fukuyama said, before thinking, 'that doesn't really sound correct in grammar.' Despite the error in grammar, the two got the message.

"At any rate," Fukuyama continued, "I don't think there isn't any need to try and help the poor with their homes." "Then what do you suggest we do to keep the poor out of the cold," Shirai asked. "Fukuyama stood up. "The prisons have plenty of room, don't they," he asked. "But sir," Haitani said in shock, "many would rather die than go to jail for warmth." "Well, if they'd rater die, then they'd better do so, and decrease the surplus population."

Haitani and Shirai stared at Fukuyama in absolute shock as he walked to the door. "Now, if there is nothing else," he said, opening the door, "I would ask you leave." The two of them without another word.

Aside from a few people who came to pay their rent, no one else visited Fukuyama for the rest of the day. "Right," he said at closing time, "I'll see you all tomorrow." "But sir," Yukinari said, "tomorrow is Christmas." "No excuses," Fukuyama said, "I want to see all of you here tomorrow morning; is that clear?" "But, but…" Yukinari stuttered before saying, "Yes sir." "Yes sir," all the other employees said as well. "Good," Fukuyama said, turning and going out the door, "good night."

After much walking, Fukuyama finally reached home. To be precise, it had once been his partner's home, but Fukuyama had inherited it in his will. At any rate, Fukuyama walked up to the door, and went to unlock it, but stopped. There was something off. Fukuyama looked at the doorknocker. At that moment, it looked like a face. A very familiar face.

"Inuyasha," he asked. Suddenly, the knocker wailed. A wail so loud and unearthly, the very sound of it would make anyone who heard it feel like they're soul jump out of their body in fright. Fukuyama fell back upon hearing the wail.

Once the waling had stopped, and he was back on his feet, Fukuyama took a second look at the knocker. It looked as it always did, an ordinary silver knocker, no face at all. "Bah humbug," Fukuyama said, and went inside.

But the incident at the door had made him wary, so on his way up to his room, he lit the lamps; which was not an average act for him. As he walked up to his room, he looked around. For some reason, he was expecting something, anything, to happen. But nothing did.

He went into his room, but nothing was there. Fukuyama got into his pajama's, had his dinner, and sat in his favorite chair; the one that faces the fire. Just then, the grandfather clock next to him struck eleven. And a great wind blew in the room, blowing out the fire and all the lights.

Fukuyama would have lit them again, but he stayed where he was. One, because it felt like this was what he was waiting for; and two, because he heard something coming up the stair. He dare not even breathe, for it felt like the thing, whatever it was, was looking for him. The sound, which Fukuyama could now tell was scraping, came closer and closer, until it was just outside the door.

And then, silence. A silence so loud, it felt like it could really make someone go deaf. Suddenly, a giant while weight literally flew though the door, and landed next to the now screaming Fukuyama. Then, two more weights flew though the door, landing next to the first.

Then, walking through the door soon after, came Inuyasha Marley, as white as snow and wrapped in heavy chains. "Who are you," Fukuyama asked, not believing his eyes. "In life," the ghost said with a voice that sounded as if it hadn't been used in three years, "I was your partner, Inuyasha Marley." "You might be his ghost," Fukuyama said, now doubting his ears, "but you more likely might not."

"Why do you doubt your own senses," Inuyasha asked. "Because," Fukuyama said, still not leaving his chair, "even the smallest thing… could affect the senses. You might be nothing more than a dap of mustard, a crumb of cheese, the fillings of an underdone potato."

"Just shut up and listen," Inuyasha said, "I haven't got much time; and these chains are heavy." "Then put them down." "I can't," Inuyasha said, "I wear the chain I forged in life; I made it link by link, and yard by yard. As punishment for all from my acts of cruelty in life. And your chain was as long and as heavy, three Christmas's ago. Oh, if you could see it now."

"But," Fukuyama said, "you always made money…" "Do you think that matters now," Inuyasha screamed, "petty things like that don't matter went your dead." "What do you want from me," Fukuyama asked. "To help you," Inuyasha said, "tonight, you will be hunted by three sprits." "Must I," Fukuyama asked, finally getting up. "Yes," Inuyasha said, "for if you don't meet with them, you have no hope."

Suddenly, the window shot open, and a grey mist came in and grabbed Inuyasha. Despite the heavy weights he wore, the mist easily dragged Inuyasha thru the air. "EXPECT THE FIRST GHOST WHEN THE BELL TOLL'S ONE," Inuyasha wailed. "Can I not just see all of them at once and get it over with," Fukuyama asked. "EXPECT THE FIRST GHOST WHEN THE BELL TOLL'S ONEEEEEEEEeeee," Inuyasha wailed one final time, as the mist finally dragged him out.

Just then, the windows slammed shut, the fire flared up, and all was as it was before Inuyasha visited, except Fukuyama was now standing.

I hope you liked it, cause the last part was a little rusted. Also, in my last story, I decided I would have a beta-reader. But I've come across a complication (many, I have no clue how to get a beta-reader). If you can help, please tell me what to do… oh, and review; please review.

Imagaco