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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Rumiko Takahashi characters named here, nor do I own Charlie's Angels. I also don't own any golf clubs.
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"Sango?" Miroku let himself into her rooms. He pulled a protesting Shampoo off of his shoulder and locked her in the bathroom before continuing his search. "Sango!" he called again.
Miroku's heart stopped momentarily when he noticed her still form lying on the floor of the back bedroom. Rushing to her, he sighed in relief when he realized she was just sleeping. Miroku gave her a gentle nudge with his foot.
Sango rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. She had been lying stretched out on the floor in the sunlight, just like the overgrown cat sleeping next to her. Miroku smiled at the carpet imprint on her cheek.
"What do you want?" Sango asked him sullenly as she sat up.
Miroku crouched down beside her and gently touched her hair before taking her into his arms. "I want things to be right between us," he murmured. "Sango, I swear nothing happened between me and that woman you saw. I know you don't believe she just happened to show up, but it's the truth!" he pleaded with her as she buried her face in his shoulder.
He felt his shirt getting damp. Sango was crying? How unlike this proud, tough girl to shed tears…he drew her closer and began stroking her back lightly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Sango. I don't ever want to hurt you," he told her.
Sango pulled back from his embrace. "Oh Miroku!" she sobbed. "I've been so stupid!" she wailed. "I'm the one who should be apologizing!"
Miroku's face wrinkled in confusion. Not once in his entire life had a woman ever told him that she needed to apologize. Not once.
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"Miss Kagura, look! Isn't the water pretty? Are we there yet? Daddy says his friend is really nice and has a daughter who can be my friend. You can play with us too if you want, Miss Kagura. Are you going to throw up again, Miss Kagura? You throw up a lot. Does your tummy always hurt?"
"Kill me now," moaned Kagura. "Or get me off this boat. Or kill me and then throw me overboard." She leaned over the rail again and heaved, vowing to get Sesshomaru for making her take a privately chartered boat to Maui. Not that a plane would have been any better – oh shit, here it goes again!
The boat jerked suddenly and she found herself slipping over the rail. Just as she was ready to start swimming, a pair of hands pulled her back. "I think the fish have had their fill," an amused voice spoke into her ear as he laid her down flat upon the deck. "They're going to get fat."
Kagura looked into the young man's face. "Thanks," she mumbled, "but I think I'd rather swim the rest of the way to Maui." She rolled onto her side and groaned as her stomach began to dance again.
The young man was shaking his head sadly at her. "Worst case of motion sickness I've seen in ages," he said. "Have you taken anything for this?"
Kagura shook her head and then immediately regretted it. "No," she gagged, "the stuff they give you always knocks me out. I can't be asleep and care for Rin at the same time." She waved a hand over to Rin, who was throwing potato chips to the seagulls.
"My name's Suikotsu," the young man held out his hand and clasped hers. "I'm the staff physician for the company that charters these trips between the islands. Can you sit up?"
Kagura struggled to rise, but was prevented by the blinding wave of nausea that rolled into her. "No," she whimpered and curled up on the deck. "Just let me die right here in peace. I promise my coffin won't take up too much room."
The physician was removing a syringe from a nearby bag and filling it. "This will take care of your nausea," he said. "I bring a lot of it along on these lengthy boat trips. We always get at least one passenger who suffers from motion sickness."
Somehow, the entire situation didn't seem right to Kagura, but she was too queasy to figure it out. Dr. Suikotsu grasped her bare arm and gently injected the medication. "This might sting just a little," he told her, "but after a second or two you won't feel a thing. I'm sorry," he said after a minute. "Did that hurt too badly?"
"No," Kagura told him. "You have very gentle hands."
Dr. Suikotsu placed his arms underneath her and lifted her easily. "I'm going to put you below deck in the captain's cabin," he told her. "I can't have you dying upstairs; it might upset the captain." He gave her a wink.
"Rin," Kagura said weakly, motioning the child to follow.
"She'll be all right," Dr. Suikotsu assured her. "The first mate will keep an eye on her."
"But I really shouldn't leave her - " Kagura tried to protest. She was getting dizzier by the minute and her arms and legs seemed to have turned into rubber. She could still hear Dr. Suikotsu speaking to her, but his voice seemed to be coming from far away.
"What the hell did you give me…" she slurred before daylight spun into a bright purple haze and then disappeared.
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"Inu-Yasha!"
The door to the central planning room slammed shut behind Miroku. Inu-Yasha and Kagome stared at the red-faced young reporter standing in the center of the room. Miroku was holding a golf club in one hand and slapping it against the palm of his other hand angrily, looking all the while as if he wanted to break someone's kneecaps.
"Put the stick down first and then we'll talk," Inu-Yasha told him. "And get that cat off your shoulder if you want me to take you seriously."
"Kagome, I think you should leave," Miroku said. "You shouldn't have to witness this."
"As long as you're holding that metal rod, I'm staying," Kagome answered as she moved protectively in front of the server bank. "If you swing that club and hit one of my computers, I'll take that thing and wrap it around your neck twice, I swear I will!"
"Don't worry," Miroku told her. "I'm only going to crack this bastard's head open with it." He stepped closer to Inu-Yasha and swung the golf club, narrowly missing Inu-Yasha's head.
Inu-Yasha dodged the second swing. "Hey! You're really serious! What did I ever do to you?" He scrambled behind a nearby workstation for cover.
"Not near my computers!" Kagome screeched as she wrested the club from Miroku's hands. Shampoo scratched her arm as she passed, causing Kagome to howl and drop the golf club.
"Now look what your stupid cat did!" Inu-Yasha jumped back out to help Kagome. "Did that beast draw blood? Let me see," he said as he reached for Kagome's arm. "What's your problem, anyway?" he snarled over at Miroku.
"I didn't want to discuss this in the presence of Kagome, but you're forcing me to do it!" Miroku shouted. "Sango told me everything!" He grabbed Inu-Yasha away from Kagome and jerked him upwards by the front of his shirt. "You're going to pay for this!"
"Aw man, she told you?" Inu-Yasha asked in disbelief, wondering just how many people Sango had told about the laundry mishap. "I thought she was going to keep her mouth shut!"
"Of course she told me! Why would you think she would keep something like a secret from me? She's spent most of the day crying because of you! I can't believe you'd do something like this!" Miroku threatened.
"Miroku, try to calm down!" Kagome intervened. "It's really not that big a deal; it could happen with anybody!"
Miroku gaped at her. "You mean you already know about this?"
"Well of course! Inu-Yasha told me all about it. Don't you think you and Sango are taking this to extremes?" Kagome asked. "I mean, I was a little upset when it happened with Ranma, but it's not like Inu-Yasha isn't trying! We're just going to have to be patient with him and he'll get it right eventually."
"This happened with Ranma as well?" Miroku asked in shock. "And you're okay with this, Kagome?"
"Look, if it will make her feel better, I'll buy her some new clothes!" Inu-Yasha offered as he wrested himself from Miroku's death grip.
"New clothes? You think buying Sango some new clothes will – will – repair this mess?" Miroku exclaimed. "What about her feelings? I can't believe you!" He staggered backwards a few steps.
"Miroku," Kagome laid a calming hand upon the reporter's arm. "I'm sure we can work through this somehow. Can't you find it in your heart to forgive Inu-Yasha? And I hate to point it out, but Sango certainly bears some responsibility for this. After all, she was the one who brought the whiskey over and started that drinking game."
"Yeah," said Inu-Yasha. "And the reason she got so drunk in the first place is because she was upset with you," he jabbed a finger into Miroku's chest. "I'm sorry it turned out so bad, okay? Trust me, it won't be a repeat mistake, 'cause I'll never do that again for anybody."
"Oh, Inu-Yasha," Kagome tried to comfort him. "Don't give up! You just need to do it more often so you know how to handle things properly. I'll tell you what, let's go and try it again at your place. I'll watch you closely so you can't mess it up." Kagome looked over at the dumbstruck Miroku. "Why don't you have Sango come over and watch? She told Inu-Yasha she wasn't very good at this, either. This way both of them could get some practice!"
"Ranma's still at my place," Inu-Yasha told her. "I don't know how he'll feel about us doing that while he's trying to sleep. He's been keeping some late hours."
"You're right, it can get pretty noisy," Kagome pondered. "Well, we could just take it over to Miroku's rooms. You wouldn't mind, would you?" she asked Miroku, who was making choking noises.
"My rooms? No way!" Miroku sputtered. "That's disgusting!"
"It's not disgusting!" Kagome exclaimed. "How could you call it disgusting? You do it all the time!"
"Not in other people's rooms! Don't you think that sort of thing should be done in private?" Miroku gasped.
"Oh, that's just silly," Kagome told him. "Honestly, I've done it at my friend's house a bunch of times. In fact, that's where I learned how! She showed me when I was eight."
"Eight? You did this when you were eight years old? That's sick," whispered Miroku hoarsely. "Here I thought my upbringing was unorthodox," he muttered as he left the room, "at least I waited until I was a teenager!"
Inu-Yasha and Kagome looked at each other and shrugged. "I guess he's a bit of a late bloomer," Kagome commented.
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A/N: I keep saying I'm not going to update so fast on these fics, but then I come up with an idea and get so afraid I'll lose it forever if I don't write it down…the next thing you know it's 2 am and I'm looking at a pile of tax returns that I'm supposed to be working on instead of writing *deep sigh*…I'll give you three guesses at what I do for money, and the first two don't acCOUNTant. *clears throat* Lucky I work for myself, or I'd be fired :D
What's sad is that I've been this way about writing all my life. I have notebooks full of stuff (all of it unreadable, trust me) that I've churned out ever since I could hold a pencil. It really is a type of addiction. Thank heavens I'm in with such good company *looks around her* – is there a 12-step program for people who like to write?
A few responses:
CassidyJewell: I can't give you more angst. I suck at angst. I can do mushy fluff and some really dark horror, but no angst. Sorry :(
Sandalwoods: Okay, I blame you for the sick germs as well, simply because CJ told me to blame you and bribed me with pocky.
Megumi Sagara1: Go ahead and translate, I trust you :D
Silver Magiccraft: A battery-eating cd player? All I dream about is - wait, I'd have to actually get some sleep in order to dream, right? Never mind…
Do you guys realize that if I put all the fluff in here that you want me to add, this fic will be 80 chapters? You're going to have to settle for getting your fluff in small regular doses instead, because I need to fill the chapters with important things such as cross dressing jokes and laundry humor. Oh yeah, and some of that plot stuff, too!
Wow, I had a lot of reviews for this last chapter! I couldn't begin to name all of you, but thanks! :P Lavender
