Fashion Don'ts by Sesshy's Sweetie

Don't Wear Black Without Blue

Prologue

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It's always hard saying goodbye to your family.

I, of course, learned this the hard way with my father when he died. I didn't even get to say goodbye. But now, as I'm entering the real world and going off to college I can give my family a proper goodbye.

Mama, Souta, and Gramps.

Sure, I'll miss them but it's so exciting to go out on your own. You get the same rush as when you just learned to ride your bicycle without training wheels. That's how I felt. Excited that I could finally leave but that didn't stop my heart from beating a thousand miles per second.

"Be safe, dear!"

"Yeah sis, don't get knocked up or ki--"

That was the last thing I heard from my brother--only because my mother had slapped him across the arm to shut him up--before entering my car. I rolled down the window and yelled one last, "I'll miss you," to my family before departing.

I was leaving.

I was on my way to bigger and better things.

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I looked around the spacious apartment I was currently residing in. Though it wasn't as big as some of my friend's homes I still loved it. I had just enough money (I was still on a budget) to decorate it to my liking. Ebony carpet padded the floor, white carpet seeming like a waste because of the tendency to stain easily. The walls were a light azure, contrasting perfectly--in my opinion--to the carpet.

One room was all I needed, seeing as none of my friends were staying with me. And since only one bedroom resided in my home, there was more space for other objects of entertainment and fashion purposes.

Yes, it was perfect.

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I hugged myself and gazed up at the huge building before me. It seemed so--well so unlike the buildings at home. This one had multiple floors and extravagant designs. Though, I suppose that's what most fashion schools look like.

I sighed and took a shaky step towards the entrance.

Ever since I could remember, I had always been dressing up my collections of Barbie dolls in clothes that I had made out of the sheets in my bedroom--which didn't go over well with my mother (she never let me near a pair of scissors again).

I even dressed up the ever so hot--or so I thought when I was younger--Ken or at least tried to. I was never any good at making male clothes.

So here I was, fourteen years later, walking up the stairs to one of the many fashion schools that circulated the globe. Only mine happened to be in New York.

When I had signed up for the school, gotten all my classes, and driven down here, I never expected the adventure ahead of me.

Not at all.

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"Alright class, today I am going to give you your first assignment," the woman known as Mrs. Ming announced, a smile on her face when she heard a group of boys in the back groan. "You are not in high school anymore boys. Toughen up."

I giggled behind my hand, looking behind me to see the boys. In all honesty they were pretty cute. One, the oldest--or so it seemed--wore his hair in a braid, a marking on his forehead instantly dubbing him demon...or demon obsessed.

Why else would anyone tattoo a demon symbol to his or her forehead? I continued studying him and not the board, which held the assignment (that may have been a mistake on my part, showing him how desperate I was for male attention). His eyes flickered over, catching my gaze. He grinned lackadaisically--I learned that word in the seventh grade. Cool huh?--at me.

I swear I never blush but his smile was just so--I don't know, there was just something about it. I quickly turned around and realized that I never really got a chance to look at the others.

"Your assignment is to make me something that would normally not try to make. Be creative. Yes, you came here to learn but I want to see what kind of talent I have in this class before I begin teaching. Of course, you will need a model to, well, model your item and a written report of why it is a challenge to you; one thousand words. Due at the end of the month."

This time, I groaned.

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That's the thing I hate about teachers. They always want you to "challenge" yourself and do something you've never done before. Pardon my French but I thought it was bullshit. They only wanted to keep you busy so they didn't have to grade papers.

"Hey! You, girl in the blue!"

Girl in the blue? Seriously, who would be wearing blue during this season?

I looked down at my shirt...Oh. That would be me. I turned around and saw that same guy from my first class running towards me.

"Um, yeah," I asked hesitantly--mainly because the only male I had ever talked to was my cat, Buyo.

He gave me that same smile and I swear the blush came back. I could feel the heat rising from the back of my neck to my cheeks.

"You know, you're cute when you're flustered."

Oh god, he noticed. Kill me now.

"So what's your name?"

By now I realized I had been staring at him the entire time and--in my opinion--looking like an idiot. I opened my mouth to answer him but nothing came out. Come on girl, I urged. "K-Kagome."

"Bankotsu," he introduced. "How about you and me go out for dinner, Friday?"

Forward much?

"Um I'm kind of--busy..." I hated lying--though it was only because I couldn't lie.

"Saturday?"

"I'd um...I'd rather get to know you first," I said quietly.

"That's cool. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

I gave a weak nod before he turned to leave, giving me a wink. I sighed and shook my head. See? That is why I never have dates. I always turn them down.

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I entered the coffee shop not too far from my school and--okay, so it was about a mile and a half--began thinking about what I was going to do my project on. Mrs. Ming said to do something you wouldn't normally do.

I inwardly groaned when I realized I'd be making male clothing and I needed a male model. How embarrassing! Who would I ask? I had no male friends--at least not here, in New York.

A woman saying something--very loudly might I add--in Spanish, cut my thoughts short.

Actually, she was yelling more than anything. Now, being Japanese, I don't know any other languages except for Japanese and English. So I cannot, for the life of me, tell you what she was saying.

All I know is she was waving her hands around like a maniac before turning to me and putting on the most benign smile and saying in English with a very heavy accent, "What can I get you, querida?"

"Uh...a cinnamon latte..."

She nodded and smiled, pressing various buttons on the keyboard. I was a bit taken aback by the sudden kind behavior seeing as she was just a raving lunatic, seconds before.

"You can pick up over there," she said pointing to the counter a few feet away from me. I nodded and walked over there as the next person in line stepped up to order. The girl who the woman had been yelling at walked out from the back room and began working on my drink. She finished in a few minutes and handed it to me.

"Thank you and come again," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, Sango," I said, reading off her nametag. I walked over to one of the empty tables and after I sat down, began flipping through the magazine I had brought with me. I needed ideas for my project and quick. A month was not nearly enough time to find a model, make a decent outfit, and do all the other assignments I was bombarded with.

I figured it would help if I had an idea of what I was going to make.

The bell to the café jingled and being the curious person I am, I looked up to see who was coming in. And boy, was I glad that I did.

Because standing not even ten feet away from me was the most perfect male human being I had ever seen in my life.

I've done my fair share of oogling in the past and I can honestly say I have never seen anyone like this guy. Sure, his features were a little...weird...but I couldn't help but drool. It wasn't the silver-y hair that got me either, it was his eyes. I felt like referring to my long time heroes, Mars Volta and singing, "Come on baby and show me those golden eyes." (Minus the color, of course, and twist of words.)

The lady at the counter seemed to know him, which made me somewhat jealous, I'll admit. He responded every once in a while to her questions, nodding his head--see! Once I start looking, I can't stop!

I sighed and pulled my eyes away from the Greek god.

I soon came to a conclusion that he had to be gay. I mean, no one that hot could be straight. It just wasn't possible.

I turned to see if he was still there and it turned out he had gone and sat down at one of the tables on the other side of the room. Suddenly my newfound information--or actually my assumption--that he was gay gave me courage to talk to him.

I took a deep breath and gathered my things before walking over to his table. I have to say that even though I--in a way--knew he was gay, I was still as nervous as the day the letter from the fashion institute came.

"Um...he--hello?" He didn't look up--probably assuming I was talking to someone else. Later I found out he was only ignoring me. "Excuse me?"

He looked up at me and an almost irritated look crossed his features.

I was taken aback. Sure, I wasn't the prettiest girl in New York but he could have at least been kinder towards me instead of staring at me like I was a total and complete idiot. He could have had the courtesy to wait and scowl at me when my back was turned.

"I was...wondering--can I sit?"--He nodded curtly (my god)--"I'm working on a project for school and I need a...well..."--I knew at the moment I was blushing furiously--"a male model..."

He blinked at me for a moment. "I must decline," he answered, his voice silky and--dare I say it--arousing. (Yes, little 'ole me has actually referred to a man's voice as arousing. Don't have a heart attack now.)

"But--but it would really help me and I've never really been good at making men's clothing--and I got to this school on scholarship and--and..." He was staring at me with annoyance probably thinking, Oh boy, another fashion school weirdo trying to show me off as a prize...that or get into my pants with some phony story.

"Please?"

"Did you not understand my first answer? Besides, I hardly believe my time would be well spent 'modeling', as you say, for a school project of yours."

I sighed and crossed my arms. What was it going to take for this guy to budge? And then, out of all the moments, it occurred to me that I hadn't introduced myself. No wonder he thought I was a creep.

I blushed coyly and said, "I don't believe I gave you my name...Kagome Higurashi--I attend the Katherine Gibbs School of Fashion..."

He didn't even look up from the newspaper he was reading. "How intriguing," he answered.

I glared at him visibly and huffed. Getting up out of my seat I turned one last time to say something insulting and smooth when he spoke up. "I must be leaving...here is my card. Perhaps I'll consider your offer."

I smiled. Hey, it was better than nothing!

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I sat there for the next hour just staring at the card he had given me. Talk about ironic, embarrassing--no, mortifying--and amazing. I was so excited when he had give me the card, I didn't even bother to look at it until he had left and I had gone back to reading my Vogue magazine.

Wow, was the only coherent thought going through my mind.

And I mean, WOW.

The type of 'wow' you get when your sixty year old mother tells you she's having a third child. That type of 'wow'.

It turned out 'Mister block of ice'--or so I had named him...was none other than the owner of the second biggest fashion company in the world! If only I had known. I felt like such a fool. I had practically pranced up to him and asked him if he would try on an amateur design in front of a number of college students.

The lady at the front counter walked up to my table thirty minutes into my staring at the card and said, "He's quite a handsome gentlemen, eh chica? I sorry to say--he isn't most friendly of the bunch. Can I get you refill, querida?"

I simply nodded my head. Apparently she had had no idea who that guy was.

My head fell against the counter with a 'thump'. I had just made a ditz out of myself in front of THE Sesshomaru Taisho.

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