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“And take a deep breath,” Naraku instructs, voice loud enough to project across their setup in the quad. It does nothing to lessen the sort of droning tone he puts out, like he’s giving these orders while half-asleep.
Inuyasha fucking wishes he was half-asleep, rather than doing goddamn yoga half-naked on campus.
“Oh, come on,” Miroku had wheedled almost two weeks ago, when this particular activity had first crossed Inuyasha’s radar. “It’s for charity! Think of the children!”
Inuyasha had been on the fence. Charity for kids was great and all, but yoga? With Naraku? Likely – but not at all confirmed – wearing barely more than just boxers? Utterly tragic and traumatizing. Inuyasha has seen things. He does not need to see more things.
“Kagome will be there,” Miroku added.
Inuyasha scoffed. “Just because we’re dating, doesn’t mean we’re attached at the hip.”
“Right, right, my bad.” Miroku hadn’t even appeared disappointed that his enticement was rejected. Inuyasha should have known better, really.
Only Miroku knew how to push Inuyasha’s buttons so well, and push them that asshole did.
“I guess our girls will only have Kouga’s six-pack to cheer on,” Miroku sighed, as if a tormented, fretting soul. “Alas, it was not meant to be.”
“Fucking Kouga agreed, really?”
And so, now, Inuyasha is shirtless doing goddamn yoga at the ass crack of the morning, and Kagome isn’t even here. There’s no ogling. What is the point in having no shirt on if there’s no ogling?
It’s disheartening, is what it is.
“Feel your breath fill up your stomach. Let the diaphragm grow with it,” Naraku drones on, and Inuyasha is about five seconds away from growing something, but it’s not his diaphragm. An aneurysm, most likely.
Wait, that joke almost went sideways. Shit. Inuyasha really is losing it.
Irritated, he opens an eye to glare at his supposed best friend doing yoga beside him. Miroku looks about as happy as a pig in shit. He even has a smile on his face. The absolute audacity of this motherfucker to be happy while Naraku tortures them into various stretches and positions.
Yoga. Ugh.
At least Naraku is wearing shorts, rather than his usual staple of only boxers. Small wins, really.
“Breathe in,” Naraku chants, and Inuyasha barely follows along, raising his arms to stretch towards the sky a couple beats later than everyone else. “And out. Let your body settle the way it needs to. Only squat as deep as you feel comfortable to do. Keep your focus on your hips, opening them.”
“Psst.”
Inuyasha really doesn’t need this right now.
“Psst, Inuyasha,” Kouga hisses. His grin is a horror to witness, just on the other side of Miroku. “Didn’t know you were so bad at this. That’s what you call a squat?”
Okay, so like, maybe Inuyasha is half-assing this, which is probably bad considering this is for charity. Right? Strong indicators suggest yes. Hell, even Hachi on the far side of the quad is doing better, and Miroku had literally dragged his ass out at six this morning without any prior warning.
Sticking out his tongue, Inuyasha readies himself. Yoga. He can do yoga. Naraku does it constantly, and he’s the most zen person Inuyasha knows. Insane – and also vaguely tragic – but zen.
Beside him, Miroku snickers. “Look at his face. You’d think he’s going to war,” he whispers to Kouga.
“I’ll suffocate you in your sleep,” Inuyasha replies. Miroku only blows him a kiss.
“…Relax your body into spider pose,” Naraku instructs, and whoops, crap, Inuyasha is so not paying attention.
He blinks, trying to get into position. It doesn’t look all that complicated, but Inuyasha nearly face-plants every time he bends over. Miroku and Kouga – those fucks – seem to be struggling, too. It’s Inuyasha’s only saving grace.
Naraku drones on. “We’ll hold this, letting the shoulders activate. Make sure to breathe in.”
“Hey,” Miroku whispers. This time, it’s a real whisper. Probably only Inuyasha and Kouga can hear, which means— “Do you think Naraku could suck his own dick if he wanted to?”
There’s no hope in hell for them. It’s the first, fleeting thought that Inuyasha has before he watches Kouga face-plant proper into the ground, cackling. Inuyasha lasts only a second longer because he doesn’t get the full look of confusion on Miroku’s face until his friend directs it at him. It’s devastating, is what it is.
Not even the peaceful music Naraku plays on a mini portable speaker can salvage this.
Laughing uncontrollably, it only gets worse when Miroku tries to curl in on himself even more to test his theory. He ends up dying, collapsing with his face contorted in pain. Inuyasha has tears in his eyes, he’s cackling so hard.
“You asshole,” Kouga growls, and Inuyasha agrees with him. “What the fuck was that?”
“A clown-to-clown conversation,” Naraku states, voice floating far too close and startling them. “Great, just what I need for my class.”
“We’re sorry,” Inuyasha tries, because he is. Kind of. Mostly. Fucking Miroku, man.
“All I asked for was support,” Naraku goes on, and wow, okay, they are truly horrible people.
Miroku groans, rolling and flailing like a dying fish on land. His hands grab at Naraku’s ankle, clinging. “No! I’m sorry! We’re here to support you like the best bros that we are!”
Horrible, horrible people.
Naraku gives them the stink-eye. It’s maybe the most non-serene Inuyasha has ever seen him. It has Inuyasha’s feet moving him, so that he’s already standing on the mat and waiting for instructions. Kouga is only a half-second behind him, while Miroku continues to blink those big baby blues that are possibly tearing a little.
Jesus.
“Forgive?” Miroku asks, pathetic, exactly like some cat meme. Little Oliver Twist would be ashamed at this level of begging.
With a deep breath that looks like it hurts, Naraku closes his eyes and nods. “Fine.”
“Yes!” Miroku cheers, jumping up so quickly that he nearly takes Naraku out. As it is, their yoga instructor stumbles and practically twists as ankle.
Truly horrible, terrible, no good best bros. Bad bros, if you will.
“Thanks Naraku! You’re the best!” Miroku yells, giving a thumbs-up. Around them, the few other participants glare. Hachi simply looks embarrassed to know them, which – fair.
“Spider pose,” Naraku reminds them, and Inuyasha gets his game face on to actually try this time. They are the men of Corner House. They have done far crazier, stupider, harder things and come out the other side. Yoga is nothing. Yoga will be easy. They will be good bros for their roommate and Naraku will be happy and the children will be happy (because charity, duh) and everyone will be—
“Honestly,” Miroku murmurs, interrupting Inuyasha’s thoughts, “I really think you could. Suck your own dick, I mean.”
The ground greets Inuyasha’s face like an old friend.