A/N: Yes, I should be working on A Fox's Tale. No, I can't help myself. Don't worry about it- there'll be more soon. As a foreword, these drabbles are NOT connected unless explicitly stated, let alone in chronological order, but they do fall under the same concept umbrella and are, by default, AUs, so I'd like to have them all collected here, as with Lessons Learned and, for those who read my RWBY fics, Scars. [shameless self-plugging intensifies]
Please, as always, enjoy the show. It's just for you.
MUQFF
Today was a most unusual day in Sango's life. Kagome was going home, and had invited her along. "To get away from the men," she'd explained. She had to admit, her friend's sense of timing was impeccable. Miroku's most recent endeavours with any and every lady they came across had been getting to her even more than usual, and she could do without hearing Shippo, of all people, lecturing everyone on maturity.
Sango had often caught herself wondering about Kagome's time. It certainly must have been a strange place. The bizarre (and worryingly skimpy) clothing alone was quite enough to convince her it was a very different world in the far future, although she mused that one should expect as much. Why Kagome would want her to come along, however, was quite beyond her. It worried her to no end when Kagome asked that she leave her precious Hiraikotsu behind, explaining in very nearly the most stressed tone she'd ever heard that it really wasn't necessary to carry a weapon in her age, and in fact was more likely to get them into trouble than going without. As much as it concerned her, Sango's curiosity won out over apprehension, and she decided she'd like to learn more of this strange world full of horseless carts, soaps that smelled like flowers and machines that made things, the time she'd heard so much about.
And so, into the well she went, with a tight hold on her companion's hand. Before they hit the bottom, she saw a flash of brilliant violet light, and then they landed. Kagome and Sango climbed out of the well with the aid of a rope ladder and into the shed where its modern self was enclosed. Sango stepped outside and found herself taken aback by the immense size of Kagome's home. She never told me she was a princess!
"Sango? Saaaango? Are you okay?"
"I... I'm fine," Sango said, sounding a little faint. "You just... you never told me you were this wealthy."
"Wealthy? Are you kidding?! I mean, the house is pretty big, I guess, but it's not like we're rich. This whole place just kind of... Sprang up over hundreds of years and fell into grandpa's lap when he inherited it. I know it looks fancy, but we actually don't have a whole ton of money. It's enough to live comfortably, but really not anything huge."
"This property is... It's enormous. And the walls. It feels like a castle."
"Honestly, someone like you could probably knock the walls down if they tried. It's far from a castle. But it's home and I love it."
"I see..."
"Come inside," Kagome said, desperate to change the subject. "We can get some tea and noodles going!"
"Yes," Sango said absently, "tea and noodles..."
MUQFF
Sango was relieved upon taking a seat to find that Kagome's family seemed normal enough. The most familiar-looking among them was her grandfather, dressed in the traditional garb of a Shinto priest, and, strange and narrow as they were, Kagome's mother and brother wore what could be recognized as hakama, or something close enough, along with what could pass for short, closed-up haori or perhaps kosode, which seemed to be put on over the head as she'd seen Kagome do with her own strange clothes, rather than by wrapping around the body. She'd never asked the proper terms for the things, for fear of feeling foolish, and Kagome had never really spoken much of her clothes.
They sat around a short little table, just high enough for everyone to bash their shins on. She found herself wondering why they'd keep such a troublesome thing in their home until the tea was set down upon it, and she found it just the right height to put her tea down on from the couch. She sat near the old man, the two of them feeling a little more comfortable with one another simply for a shared sense of style. Both he and the younger brother were full of questions, complaining that Kagome told them little of the past, although the latter mentioned he quite enjoyed Inuyasha's company. Given the time gap Kagome had told her about, she was surprised at the relatively accurate knowledge they were asking her to confirm or elaborate upon for them. It was certainly more than she knew of five hundred years into her own past. It took a scolding from Kagome's mother to keep them from overwhelming her (and to get Grandfather Higurashi to stop foisting charms, sutras and seals upon her to use in her time).
The tea cups were odd little things, with handles and a shorter profile but much greater diameter than she was used to, but not difficult to adapt to. Mother Higurashi's wasn't full of tea, but something much stronger smelling, which she gathered was called coffee. A fat little cat trundled about underfoot, purring, meowing and rubbing its face on her shins, while the younger brother fiddled with a little black thing covered in rubber pads. All in all, it seemed a happy little home.
Suddenly, in the corner, a box flickered to life! She'd taken little note of the thing before, sitting in its place on a short shelf, a bit large but clearly just an object, about one and a half shaku(1) wide and about as tall, and maybe two and half or three shaku deep. On the face of the box that she was looking at, there was, to her astonishment, a moving picture! She rushed over and tapped at the glass surface experimentally, wondering how these drawings could be moving. On asking what this mystical device could be, Kagome's family seemed to not know how to answer, Kagome, however, was thoroughly accustomed to questions about technology and material, and patiently explained the basic concept of animation. When asked how those pictured got to the screen of this "television" thing, however, she was at a loss as well.
"Well," she said, "it isn't magic, but it may as well be for all I know about it." It seemed even Kagome couldn't explain everything from her strange new era.
MUQFF
After treating her to the tea, Kagome insisted on Sango getting dressed in period clothing. It wasn't too strange, aside from these bizarre fasteners known as zippers, which she mastered after but a single demonstration. Kagome was glad Sango was adapting so well. She'd had her doubts, but it seemed everything was fine. Moreover, she was rather proud of the outfit she'd picked out for her demon-slaying friend. Fortunately, they were similar sizes, so Kagome's clothes more or less fit her, but for shoes. Sango's feet were much smaller than her own, so her wooden sandals it would be. They didn't look so out of place with the slightly baggy jeans (the sturdiness of which Sango had marveled at) and the long, dark-colored shirt she'd gotten out, especially not once she'd convinced her to remove her tabi socks and most of her makeup. She'd fit in just fine, as long as nobody realized she was constantly scanning for potential threats, as people subject to prolonged danger often do. She could probably pass her off as a tourist or relative from Hokkaido or someplace similarly rural, simply fascinated with the marvels of the big city, if really and truly need be.
Sango examined herself in a mirror. She didn't look half bad. Not even a quarter bad. She certainly missed the presence of her many weapons, but more or less trusted Kagome's assurances that her time was safe. Soon enough, she was thrust into a brand new world, or, rather, dragged by the hand for a day of shopping!
MUQFF
The day was going well. Every young man who stopped to speak to her and Kagome found himself fascinated with Sango, as did Eri, Yuka and Ayumi, who were full of talk about boys, clothes, and more boys, dying to know about Kagome's delinquent boyfriend and if her new companion was, herself, attached.
"Well," Sango said, planning to later tell Kagome she'd been playing along for the act, "there is a man, but..."
"But what?" Eri pressed. "Is he taken?"
"If he was, he wouldn't care!" Sango muttered angrily. "Every time he sees a pretty girl, it's off to talk his way into being with her for a night! No wonder he can't get his life together, always chasing every woman he sees!"
"Oooh," Ayumi said, wincing in sympathy. "A big cheater."
"An absolute lech!" she responded, now quite riled up. Out the window went any plans of hiding her feelings from Kagome. On it went, Sango venting and being offered sympathy by the four around her, stopping more than once to apologize for venting to strangers, which the trio swept aside, insisting she continue, complete suckers for drama, as young folks often are. The talk dragged on over not one but two mealtimes, long before which the venting had finished and other conversations had begun. By the time Kagome insisted on taking Sango home, it was very nearly dark out. Even though they had stopped talking about it, she was still fuming over Miroku's antics, stewing on the walk home underneath an admittedly more prominent feeling of catharsis and of having genuinely enjoyed her time with Kagome's other set of friends. Five hundred years of social, linguistic and technological advancement, and feelings never changed. Feeling happy, safe and secure, she and Kagome thought nothing of cutting through an alleyway, taking no notice of the drunk vagabond leaning on the wall, until the poor fool made the mistake of trying to grab Sango by the rear. He barely had time to understand his own stupidity, but Kagome saw it all as Sango's previously simmering anger immediately surfaced again at a raging boil.
In that moment, her world slowed down, everything moving as if she was watching an ever-slower slow-motion cut, as Sango jumped very nearly as high as her own head, turned, and delivered her foot to his jaw. At the moment of contact, the world seemed to freeze for a moment. She could see the drunk's face rippling. It was then that Kagome began to realize she'd made a mistake in cutting through the alley with Sango, perhaps in bringing the slayer to the future at all. In that moment, Kagome knew, and the drunk, too, knew, each having the very same thought.
I fucked up.
Kagome, for her part, rarely used such language even internally, but the situation certainly justified it. The world went back into regular timeflow around her as the drunken idiot collapsed in a heap, his lower jaw several centimeters further to the right than it had been a moment ago. Probably dislocated and definitely broken. Sango landed gracefully. "You deserve that and worse, you pervert!"
"We should go," Kagome said faintly, face in her hands. "Before someone sees all this." Another day, another slain demon.
1 Shaku- an old unit of Japanese measurement, curiously roughly 30cm (or about 1ft), a strange coincidence given that it developed independently from the Imperial and Metric systems of measurement in use in the west and in modern Japan. While I normally don't like the use of Japanese words for which there is a very obvious English equivalent, (like "neko" in place of "cat"), I'm trying to get us more into Sango's head for this part of the story, so I'm using the unit of measurement she would be familiar with. Additionally, for some very young readers who really shouldn't be here (but I can't stop you), the thing she's looking at is, in fact, a TV. Ask your parents about CRT or "tube" TVs from before the days of flatscreen and they'll tell you all about it- mostly with phrases like "Oh God, my spine!"