Chapter Three
When Sesshô-maru and Neko emerged from the well, Neko found that they had indeed traveled back in time through the dry well in K-Chan's yard. The scene was right out of an Inu-Yasha anime.
Sesshô-maru shrugged her to the ground. Neko fell on her back, indignant.
"That was rude!" she accused, recalling K-Chan's trademark Hannibal Lecter quote, "I find rudeness unspeakably ugly."
Sesshô-maru ignored her comment, and asked simply, "What do you know of my brother?"
"Inu Yasha?" Neko peered at Sesshô-maru quizzically.
"Yes, him," Sesshô-maru spat. "More specifically, where did you get that necklace of his? You must have come into contact with him at one time or another."
"No, actually . . . I mean, uh . . . this was a gift . . . from K-Chan," Neko fumbled.
"K-Chan?" Sesshô-maru raised an eyebrow, the slightest show of interest in the name of Neko's friend.
"Yeah, K-Chan. She's a good friend of mine. She gave me this cos-play necklace for Christmas."
More interested than he wanted to show, but knowing that the whereabouts of this K-Chan were important, he knelt before his captive, to Neko's surprise. Very carefully, Sesshô-maru asked her, "Does this K-Chan possess any Shikon no Tama fragments?"
"Not really . . . I mean, I gave her the cos-play necklace-" Neko suddenly cut herself short and sat upright. "Sesshô-maru, I thought this necklace was fake, but it really works, just like Inu Yasha's rosary! So if my cos-play necklace is real . . ."
"Then this necklace that you gave your friend may also be a fraction of the real Shikon no Tama," he concluded for her, standing up and helping Neko to her feet. "Come. We must move quickly."
* * * ^-^ * * *
Naraku and K-Chan sat facing each other, the squeaky doll in K-Chan's lap so that she could use it as necessary.
"Okay. Me first," K-Chan insisted. "How did you bring me here?"
"Kukukukuku," Naraku laughed cynically. "Through the well, of course. It was so easy."
K-Chan stared at Naraku in stunned silence. "You mean . . . my well?" she asked softly.
"Of course. What well did you think?"
K-Chan rested her forehead on the palm of her left hand. "It works . . ." she whispered to herself. "Holy crap, it really works!" She laughed out loud, then jumped up. "I have to tell Neko—she'll be thrilled!"
"Not so fast," Naraku stopped her. "You owe me something now." He held out his hand expectantly.
"Oh, oh yeah, that," K-Chan remembered. Removing her cos-play necklace, she unstrung one of the "shards" and tossed it to Naraku. She began pacing the room like a panther, thinking to herself.
"If I can be of no more help to you, then I suggest you hand over the rest of the jewel," Naraku warned coldly. Suddenly amiss of her Naraku squeaky, K-Chan looked to see that the real Naraku had possession of it.
'Uh, oh,' she thought, beginning to sweat lightly. 'This is not good.' For the doll was the only reason that Naraku had been intimidated by her in the least. Chuckling maniacally, Naraku sliced the doll upwards so the stuffing spilled over, then defenestrated the offensive item far out into the night.
"Noooooooooooooooooo!" K-Chan bemoaned, running to the window, but it was too dark to see where the object landed. Suddenly K-Chan became very, very tense. It was easy to hold down an infatuation with Naraku when he was just a character in some book, but now his being very real, and quite dangerous, put K-Chan on her guard. And right now, she knew what her best defense mechanism was, and it certainly wasn't fighting.
Instead, she turned to face her captor and sank to her knees in a respectful bow. "Forgive me, waka," [waka is a term that means "young master"; it's what Naraku's servants call him] K-Chan pleaded.
"I should kill you here and now," came the cold response. K-Chan bit her lip so hard that the salty tang of her own blood trickled into her mouth. He wouldn't . . . really kill her, would he?
It occurred to K-Chan that he just might.
Wiping the blood from her lip with the back of a slightly shaking hand, K-Chan spoke again. "Naraku no-donna," she tried again, [no-donna also means "master"] "be-before you do kill me . . ." she looked up slightly, but didn't dare stare Naraku in the face, "can I make you an offer?"
"Kukukuku . . ." Naraku laughed. "What else could you possibly have that I would want?"
"Well . . ." K-Chan began, getting to her feet, "if you let me live . . . I'm a really good cook!" she burst out, fishing for more—and better—ideas. She ran back to the window, desperate to try anything, and began wiping off some of the dust and grime covering the panes with the bottom of her shirt. "Witness my ability to wash windows! I can clean!" she offered, then prostrated herself again in front of Naraku. "I can do anything for you, but only if I'm alive."
Naraku pondered this for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly. "You are only worth my while because of the Shikon no Tama," he concluded. "Farewell, then," and he raised his sword.
Desperate and panicking, K-Chan cried out and rolled away from the blow as Naraku brought the sword down violently. Clutching for her necklace, K-Chan ripped it from her neck, scattering the shards on the floor before her. Not stopping to look back, she grasped the shards with both hands, then flung them as far as she could out into the night.
'Even if they're not real, if others find the shards,' she thought to herself, 'then at least Naraku won't have them, and go after them and forget about me.'
A severe, sharp pain to her chest almost made K-Chan scream aloud. She doubled over as though she had been shot through the heart.
"Insolent bitch," Naraku spat at her. "Does it hurt?" Naraku advanced slowly, standing over the suffering girl. The throbbing in K-Chan's heart intensified, and gasping for breath, she passed out. Naraku's shadow fell over her, and he went for his sword once more, then stopped. Perhaps he could make good with her after all.