Chapter Four
When K-Chan next awoke, she was staring into the unfamiliar face of a pretty young woman who appeared to be attending on her. A dull ache still resided in her chest, and K-Chan rubbed her ribs, which felt as though they were severely bruised. The woman took notice.
"Feeling any better? You were very foolish to upset waka like that," she reprimanded.
"I'm alive?" the bewildered K-Chan put to no one in particular. The young woman gave a short, amused giggle.
"I don't know why—if it had been I who had spoken to him in such a way, I would surely have found myself a premature grave. You may call me Yôka. What is your name?" [The Japanese word yôka actually means "eighth." In this case, the young woman was the eighth born, and had parents cruel enough to name her as such. Actually, I thought it was pretty . . .]
"K-K-chan," she stammered. "Look, if it's not too much trouble . . . could you get me an ice pack or an aspirin? My chest is killing me."
"Here, drink this," Yôka offered, having no clue what in all the nine levels of hell an "aspirin" was. K-Chan gratefully accepted the cup from the woman's outstretched hand and drank deeply, only to suddenly feel as though her throat was on fire. She gagged and sputtered.
"You could have warned me! I thought that was water!"
"The sake will restore your spirits as well as your health," Yôka informed her belligerent patient.
"You're telling me," K-Chan muttered, taking a lighter sip of the drink.
* * * ^-^ * * *
Neko trudged after Sesshô-maru wearily. "Can we take a break yet?"
"No," came the heartless answer.
Neko sighed, nearly tripping over a root. 'Where the hell are we going?' she thought. "Can we take a break yet?" she appealed again.
"Kisama . . . no!" Sesshô-maru growled.
"Can I have a piggy-back ride at least?" Neko petitioned. Sesshô-maru glanced backwards ever-so-slightly just in time to witness Neko take a plunge face-first towards a mud puddle. Before she had time to hit, however, she found herself tucked under Sesshô-maru's arm, then swung up to his shoulders.
"You are such an inconvenience—but without you, we would never find K-Chan, and without K-Chan, this Sesshô-maru wouldn't find Naraku. At least this way will be faster; hold on," he commanded. Neko obeyed, wrapping her arms around Sesshô-maru's neck. Grinning, she pressed her face to his tail, which was draped over his shoulder.
"So . . . soft," she sang out happily, thinking, 'This has got to be one of the best days of my life!"
A vocalization of "And where do you think you're going so fast?" pulled Neko out of her daydreams. She raised her eyes and stared into the face of her one (other) true love, Miroku, a Buddhist priest with a lusty penchant for women. Behind him was Inu Yasha, Sesshô-maru's half-breed brother and Miroku's traveling companion.
Sesshô-maru looked down at his brother and the lecherous monk haughtily. "I don't have time to play with you currently-" he began in a tone that was an interesting combination of boredom and spite. He was rather suddenly distracted, however, as Neko sprang at Miroku and clung onto him tightly. The befuddled priest staggered backwards and would have fallen had he not steadied himself on his shoukaju [the staff that he carries around]. "Wha-what is this?" he stammered. Neko, her eyes as wide as dinner plates, looked up at Miroku with a look on her face that was almost crack-induced.
"It's you . . ." she whispered, then with a sudden jolt of added enthusiasm, "Now I have you and Fluffy-sama!"
After a beat of silence in which all save Neko found to be very uncomfortable, Inu Yasha found his voice.
"Flu-Fluffy-sama?" He snickered, trying to cover more laughter with a cough. "Going soft on us, brother?"
Sesshô-maru looked as though he was ready to commit homicide. The ever-present glare in his eyes only hardened. Miroku, meanwhile, was looking like he was having not so bad a day himself.
"Hey, you're cute," he flattered Neko, who blushed a shade of red that doesn't come in a box of Crayolas. He leaned in closer and added, "You look like the type who falls for guys with hardships beyond their control. Not that I complain much, but mine is a tragic tale . . ."
"Don't even start," Inu Yasha growled, still locked in the staring contest with Sesshô-maru, who was watching the quasi-amusing scene with a slightly interested air.
"Oh, all right, I'll get to the point," Miroku sighed.
"YES! Yes, I will bear your child!" Neko exploded suddenly. "But only after we've dated a year first."
Miroku looked a little stunned. Was this girl telepathic that she could second-guess his thoughts? Oh, well, it didn't matter all that much to him.
"I can tell we're going to get along very well," he beamed, snaking an arm across Neko's shoulders. Neko felt as though she had just devoured through an entire case shipment of chemical pops.
[*A note to the unwary reader: chemical pops are a commodity that I created, kind of a depiction of drugs, but moreover, they simply represent the act of becoming extremely sugar high to the point where you begin to ponder if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about.]
"That's settled then," Sesshô-maru cut in. "This girl is your problem now." Turning his back on the motley trio, he bounded out of sight.
"Wait! Fluffy, come back!" Neko cried suddenly, pulling herself from Miroku's wandering embrace. Miroku looked hurt.
"How typical. Dammit, why do the cute ones always go for the youkai?"
* * * ^-^ * * *
Two days had passed, and there had still been no sign of K-Chan, Naraku, or the well that would take Neko back home.
"Not that I really want to go back . . ." she informed her compatriots, having filled them in from where this whole saga began. As the two men discussed and planned, Neko's thoughts turned to what she had just said. When the time came—after they had found K-Chan, and the well—would she, indeed, really want to go home?
Pondering this, she kicked at a small mound of leaves only to be answered by a broken, pathetic squeak that sounded a little too familiar.
"It can't be . . ." she thought, then dug in the ground to reveal the squeaky Naraku doll that she had given K-Chan for Christmas! K-Chan was here! That much was good news, at least the two of them had traveled backwards in time into feudal Japan together, but . . .
"Inu Yasha? Miroku?" The two stopped their politicking and turned to face Neko, who held the disheveled doll before them.
"I-I gave this to K-Chan as a present . . ." she began, but trailed off, needing to go no further. Both men could see that the doll had been sliced upward by some sharp object, and where K-Chan was concerned, the outlook was not good at all.