A Whispered Voice

A Whispered Voice -or- How Ideas Spring From Illness

Makimachi Misao flipped her braid over her shoulder and started down the street. She couldn't wait to get out of here. There was no reason for that innkeeper to get so grouchy at her just because she'd come up a little short.

She sighed. It had been a long time since she'd seen any sign of Aoshi-sama, and longer still since she had any sort of income. Traveling was a lot more expensive than she'd thought. And what was worse, she was coming down with a cold. Summer colds were always the worst.

She trudged down the road, feeling sniffly and weak. She kept telling herself "I'll be better in a day or two. I'm never sick for that long. There's no way a cold is going to beat me!" but her body wasn't listening to her mind.

Misao tried to distract herself by envisioning her happy reunion with the Oniwa Banshuu. She would hear something of them in the next town, and would track them down to wherever they were. Hannya would congratulate her on her fine tracking skills and say she was the perfect Onmitsu and Aoshi-sama would sweep her up into his arms

She started hacking. "All right," she admitted to herself after the coughing passed. "Maybe that was going a bit too far" She stood up straight, ignoring the dizziness, and continued down the road.

Night didn't sneak up on her so much as it smacked her over her head. Her increasingly frequent cough slowed her down considerably. Misao scowled. There were no houses in sight. She would have to sleep out-of-doors. "I HATE sleeping outside!" she announced to a passing squirrel, and stamped her foot. The squirrel ran up the nearest tree and twittered at her. "Same to you pal," she snapped. Illness did not become her.

She slumped beneath a tree and pulled her mantle closer around her. "MouI guess I have totomorrow, I'll find some way to get money, and sleep in a real bed" Vaguely, she sensed someone coming, and prepared to hop into the bushes to hide. But she was hit by a severe coughing fit, and doubled over in pain. 'Dammit!' she thought. 'I didn't want to be stuck out here the open. What if it's some weirdo? I can't fight like this!'

She saw feet approach her as the coughing started to dissipate. "Daijobu, ojousan?" a young man said, kneeling next to her.

"Hai, hai," she insisted, although her voice was rough from her cough.

"Ja, I think you need to see a doctor. Come with me." She scowled at him. He looked pretty thin'If he tries anything funny, I can still take him out', she decided, and followed him as he walked.

They came to an old hut, which, while pretty decrepit, looked kind of homey at the same time. An older woman greeted them at the door.

"Hikaru," she said. "What did you do now?"

"Okaasan! I didn't do anything!" he whined. "This poor girl was sitting underneath a tree coughing her lungs out, so I thought we could take her to the doctor."

"Does this girl have a name," his mother asked.

"Ano, I forgot to ask" he blushed slightly. Misao rolled her eyes.

"I swear, boy, you'd forget your own head if it wasn't tied onWell, miss, DO you have a name?"

"Misao" she coughed.

"Well, Misao, tomorrow we'll help you to the doctor's to clear up that cough of yours."

"Arigatou."

"Don't speak, dear," the mother told her. "You sound like a hoarse cicada."

Misao squirmed as the doctor examined her. Hikaru had escorted her to a local woman, the closest thing to a doctor they had in the area. She was a crotchety old obaasan with cold hands and a sharp voice. After feeling Misao's throat, peeking at her tonsils, and listening to her breathe (or at least attempt to; she'd immediately gone into another coughing fit when she took a deep breath), she told her that Hikaru had over-reacted. She only had "a bit of a cold" and would get over it in a few days if she didn't go out too much.

"Thanks," Misao said, more than a little put out by the proclamation of something she had figured out on her own.

"Drink a cup of this right when you get back, and one whenever your cough gets really bad," the obaasan told her, giving her a packet of herbs.

"It smells likeI don't know, but it's BAD!" Misao exclaimed as she sniffed the packet.

"You're supposed to drink it, not smell it." Misao grinned sheepishly. "Now go on."

After three days of Hikaru's fawning and the stinky medication, Misao decided she was well again. Hikaru's mother agreed.

"You sound much better," she said. "I like this voice much better than the hoarse cicada's."

"I don't know," Hikaru put in. "I kind of liked it. You sounded older, sexier.'' His mother slapped him, and Misao glared. Normally, she would have given him a Kecho Geri for that, but that slap looked like it hurt enough.

"Don't listen to him, Misao-chan. Men are stupid, and will fall for that kind of voice. I think you sounded like a hussy who wouldn't think twice about robbing an idiot like my son." Misao blushed.

"Okaasan!"

She gave Misao a package of food and a hug. "I like you much better as yourself. Now, take it easy for a while so you don't make yourself sick again." She saw her to the door, and waved her on. "Good luck, Misao-chan."

"Thank you so much!" Misao waved absently. She'd gotten an idea

Misao pulled the hood of her mantle down so her face was mostly hidden. 'If men will fall for anything', she thought, 'then I should have no trouble making money to continue my search for Aoshi-sama and the rest of the Oniwa Banshuu'.

"Hey, there," she called in a soft, whispered voice, much like the sexy rasp Hikaru had liked. The men were shabbily dressed, but had moneybags. She didn't care where they got their money, as long as she could take it from them. They almost drooled when she beckoned to them. 'Lead 'em to the woods and then beat the snot out of them. Now that's how you make money!'

And that is where Misao got the idea to be the mugger, not the muggee.