Author's Notes:
I turn my back for one friggen minute, and I'm off again writing
a new fic. This one will have less plot and more "humor"
(in quotes because, well, it's not particularly good).
--Halp!--
I can't decide which character to add in the next chapter Jakotsu
is already in the mix, but I need another human from the Sengoku
Jidai. Your "halp" is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer:
Takahashi can't read English, and I'm seriously doubting Viz's
literacy, so...
Inuyasha and co. are all mine (mwahaha)! And available at highly
affordable hourly rates, I might add. Payments must be made in
advance and in unmarked bills of denominations no higher than
$20, stashed in a paper bag and left in the alley between Starbucks
and Chili's...
Four hundred years ago, Naraku had nearly been the conqueror of all Japan. He'd almost gathered together the shattered Shikon-no-Tama, and had almost rearranged himself into a form stronger than any had thought possible. And when the Second-to-Last Battle came, he'd almost won.
But today, he didn't have time for any of that...
Springer was on.
Naraku was lazing around on a dusty old sofabed he'd picked up for half price during the evacuation of Hiroshima. The three-legged coffee table in front of him was littered with back-issues of Penthouse, a half filled bottle of Nyquil, stray pork rinds, Men's Pocky wrappers, and a 2x2 foot square Budweiser pyramid.
He scratched his stomach, still thin thanks to youkai metabolism, belched, and bellowed, "Kagura! More beer!"
A can flew out of the kitchen and hit him square on the head as Kagura stomped into the doorway and leaned against the doorframe. Frowning, she crossed her arms in front of the split-sleeved shirt she wore coupled with black leather pants and knee high stiletto-heeled boots. "I tried to be understanding when you refused to get a job, you bastard, but I draw the line when you won't even walk to the damn fridge."
Naraku ignored her and reached a weak hand out at the beer can, which had landed somewhere near the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. He wondered briefly if it was worth getting up for.
"Don't ignore me!" Kagura yelled, picking up several bobble-head Chihuahua dolls and hurling them in Naraku's general direction. "I've had it up to friggen here with this! I'm leaving, Naraku, and I'm fuckin' serious this time!" She angrily snatched her purse from a battered chair and slashed the TV in half on her way out the door.
Naraku sat up abruptly as the TV started fizzling and sparking. "I was watching that," he said starkly, and a pulsing heart formed in the palm of his hand. He squeezed slightly, even a little lazily, but it was enough to send Kagura to the floor with her hands clutched over her heart. A whimper of pain escaped her lips; even centuries couldn't dull the pain.
"Go if you want," he said in a frigid voice. "But you'll be back, and you'll pay for the damn TV."
Kagura stumbled out of the door, almost catching her boots on the doorframe. The crackling sound coming from the broken TV ended in a bang as she slammed the door shut. She kicked at the side of the house until a rain of shingles fell on the shriveled azalea bushes.
"No way is that asshole related to me," she fumed. "No. Fucking. Way."
A secretary knocked at the office door saying, "Mr. Taiyou? A young woman is asking to see you."
The man she was timidly addressing was seated in a leather, massage-action desk chair, his legs hidden behind a desk. Every paper on his desk was boxed into a neat and exact pile with a matching paperweight holding it down. Every painting on his wall was straightened daily with a carpenter's level. The secretary smoothed her shirt, feeling that she was the only thing out of place in this office. A name card on the desk read:
President and CEO, Johnson and Johnson Nippon Branch
Sesshoumaru sighed, straightened a loose paper, then looked at the secretary expectantly. "Her name?"
"Oh! I think she said... Saho Kagura." The secretary frowned as Sesshoumaru's normally calm face registered surprise. "You know her?"
"We've met," said Sesshoumaru. "I didn't exactly get the best impression of her, but then again... time heals all psychoses. Send her in."
As he waited, Sesshoumaru gently poked at his prosthetic left arm. He could move it slightly by flexing the muscles near his shoulder, but it wasn't good for much more than that. He used to pin memos to his arm with thumbtacks just for the flabbergasted look on the other companies' presidents faces, or stand spare darts up in his arm while playing at bars, but he had stopped after being confronted by his employees and asked to cease and desist. Normally Sesshoumaru took orders from no one, but he made exceptions for people who jealously guarded a Xerox of his ass that could quite easily make its way onto the company message board.
The door fanned open quietly and Kagura's heels clicked across the floor. She took a seat facing Sesshoumaru, looking up at his face. The half-moon and stripe markings were gone, his hair was short and dark and he was obviously wearing contacts to color his eyes brown, but she could still recognize the delicate shape of his face. Kagura thought he looked like a human but damn, he looked good.
"It's been a long time, Kagura," Sesshoumaru said.
She almost smiled. "Centuries. By the looks of this office you seem to have done much better than we have."
"And how's 'Daddy,' the little motherfucker?" Sesshoumaru's face was a slate wiped clean. Just like Kagura saw it in her dreams. "Still alive, or has someone had the good sense to shoot him?"
"Tried that already. But I came to ask you a favor," she said. "I think you know what I'm asking; I asked you once before, all those centuries ago." She leaned closer, resting her hands on Sesshoumaru's desk. "Kill Naraku. Please," she added as an afterthought. "He is weak and afraid after retreating from the Battle, so no problem there. I'd kill him myself, but the bastard holds my heart in his hands. Literally."
Sesshoumaru rose from his chair and strode over to a scroll painting. He stared at it with his back to Kagura. "You have no idea... what I have gone through. No idea."
Kagura's eyebrows knitted together but she waited for his answer. Finally he said, "I'll speak with my brother about this."
"Inuyasha! You-- you know where he is?" Kagura gasped. "Does he still have the Shikon no Tama?"
"You ask him. Come back tomorrow," said Sesshoumaru with his eyes locked onto the scroll. Kagura nodded, stood, and left.
The room was empty again. As he looked at the painting with
its wide brush strokes and inked colors, a tear slid down his
cheek. A beautiful young woman smiled silently from the paper,
wearing a purple and white kimono and a boa draped over her shoulders.
"Rin..."