Hello! Vacation has just started, which means I get to write more. This also means that I have to do my extra-credit packets and more crap alike.
But I am truthful in saying that I am capable of writing at least one more chapter in this three-week break. Look forward to it.
Chapter 9- "To Fukui"
Sango had hidden her expression well enough when she was speaking to her father, but now Miroku held a red handprint on his cheek. Rowing still, he heaved a sigh and looked toward the water's edge. They were reaching the end of the stream.
He looked at the trees; fantasized something was moving. His eyes trailed to the water, and he shook his head, reassuring himself that it was their very own reflection.
And then he found himself gazing at Sango. She sat primly at the edge of the canoe's seat in front of Miroku. Her hair was tied with a red cloth at the very base of the back of her head, loose strands hanging at the sides of her cheeks. Her kimono had various layers -maybe about four or five- that were all different colors, and she was wearing a knee-length form of a trench coat that added to her elegant appearance. She appeared with a blank face, without worries; she seemed happy to be out of Ling Sheng's prison cellar.
And he asked her what she was thinking.
She smiled. "What Kohaku is doing."
Miroku understood, but she explained, "Kohaku is my brother. Chichiue allows him to roam…if he is with his army," she gave a small laugh, looked up to the clear, mid-afternoon sky. "Seventeen years old, and already with an army at his side."
Miroku smiled and looked away at the trees again; thought they were moving as they reached the bank. He jumped out into the water, pulling the weight of his wet robes sluggishly. He waded to the front of the canoe and pulled it onto the pebbles that, over and over again, vanished behind their thin, cool blanket.
And suddenly, just as Sango was climbing out with her many kimono layers picked up, arrows were sent flying at them from the opposite shore.
Then it dawned on Miroku: he truly had seen something moving: soldiers.
"Come!" Miroku said, wrapping his arm around Sango's shoulder to shield her from the arrows that landed not meters away. They felt like centimeters to him.
As they ran up a small, inclined hill, Miroku looked up to see more archers.
Though the archers were right ahead of them, their arrows did not pierce the flesh of the two, but flew, in an arch, directly past them.
Miroku thought jokingly, these must be new archers.
But then Sango yelled, "Kohaku!" Running from Miroku's side, she jumped over to a horse and patted Kohaku's shoulder.
"Aneue!" Kohaku said, grinning, jumping off his steed. "Welcome back."
She smiled back at him. Eagerly, she asked, "Do you have Hiraikotsu? And Kirara?"
He frowned. "No. Father does, with his group."
Kohaku looked over Sango's shoulder at the archers at the opposite side of the stream, who were all dead, and then at Miroku.
He raised his eyebrows at Sango expectantly.
"Ryokousha desu," she said. A traveler. "His name is Miroku."
Kohaku held out his hand for Miroku to shake. Miroku took it; shook his hand heartily.
"Welcome to the army of the taijiya."
-
"Where do you come from?" the Lord asked.
Inuyasha was caught off guard. "Er…Hama-…-matsu."
"Hamamatsu?"
"…Hai."
The Lord mumbled, "I have never heard of Hamamatsu before."
Little did he know that it was a great part of the land that he would conquer.
Inuyasha walked alongside the cart that Kagome and her grandfather sat upon; the Lord's horse walking slowly along,
Stopping every now and then for shrubs on the trail. They were headed back to Fukui after the Professor had been inside the monastery. There, he had received his blessings from many priests. Surprisingly, there were many priestesses there, blessing Higurashi as well.
But he had left a message with the priests and priestesses:
Let pass a young monk and Sango-hime. Allow them what food you can for the trek to Fukui; the journey will be hard. As for the girl, supply her with her weapon and her cat.
Go well, they had said, and make haste. For they are coming.
29:12:39
8:50 AM, ITC
Kikyou strolled into Naraku's office carrying the regular clipboard and pen.
With a sigh, she asked, "Would you like the good or the bad new first?"
"Bad," he said, forehead in both hands.
She paused before starting, glancing at her clipboard. "Our technicians were taken to a hospital in Hyakki. When they arrived, Sato Matsuyamo was on duty. The same doctor who had tended to Totosai."
Naraku took his face out of his hands. "She works at both hospitals?"
"Yes, but she's mostly at Nagoya."
"Is that legal?"
Kikyou ignored him and went on. "She reserved the MRI when she heard the patients were from ITC, and put two of them on it."
He mumbled, "Must've known he was split…"
"Yes. Totosai had gone through an MRI as well. So she was most definitely looking for it."
Naraku raised his eyebrows, waiting for the worst.
"And she and Takuro are friends,"
He waited for her to explain.
"The police officer."
"Oh," he leaned back in his chair, but suddenly bolted upright. "Ohh."
"Yes, she called him. Would you like the good news now?"
He shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "It can't be any worse."
"So Takuro calls the chief police to go down to the hospital with him; some reporters are there, and they're all expecting something big.
"Instead, all the external injuries are minor so far. All that it is is flying glass and some metal in the skin layer."
Naraku nodded all the while, looking at a blank spot on the wall.
"And then they gather around the MRI and they find that none of them have transcription errors. They were just technicians, after all.
So the chief was mad, the hospital manager on shift at the time was mad. The reporters left and a man almost died because the MRI was all blocked up. So Sato is worried about her job. Takuro is disgraced."
And Naraku started smiling.
"The reporter has agreed to come here, too."
"Ms. Hare?"
Kikyou nodded.
"The one that's doing a newspaper article on us?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Next week."
"We'll give her the usual tour."
Kikyou looked back at her clipboard, tapping it with her pen. "More bad news."
Naraku glared at her. "What?"
"Kouga's found the prototype."
---
Sango and Miroku had been given one horse each, and were trotting alongside Kohaku.
Miroku had put the zanbatou between the reins and the horse's neck, and it rested on the stirrup, next to his foot.
Sango was sitting side-saddle, though Miroku could tell that she was itching to sit as Kohaku and Miroku were.
Suddenly there was a scratching noise at his ear. He tapped the earpiece.
"Miroku?"
"Inuyasha."
"Where are you?"
"We're reaching the edge of the woods. We're with Sango and Kohaku."
"Ah. The Lord tells Kohaku to hurry back; they have a job lined up. Tell Sango that we left Hiraikotsu and Kirara in the hands of the head priest and priestess. Expect them to give you food enough for the journey to Fukui. Remember that the battle is just over a day away."
"…yeah."
"Be seeing you."
And there was static.
He scooped up the courage to give Kohaku his orders. "Sango, we are to go to the monastery for Hiraikotsu and Kirara. Kohaku, your father wishes for you to go ahead, and make haste; you have a job to be at with you army, and the battle is soon."
Kohaku looked to Sango for confirmation.
She smiled. "Go, Kohaku. This man would not lie."
He nodded and called to his men. His horse whinnied at his command and-
"Wait."
Kohaku stopped his horse; patiently turned back to Sango. She turned to Miroku.
"You said we will find Kirara there, yes?"
He nodded in reply.
"Then we will give you back your horses, Kohaku," she said, and climbed off of her horse. Miroku followed suit and held the reins lightly in hand.
"Ah. Thank you." He urged forward two of his archers; they bowed their heads politely, and took their places in the saddles.
He called to his army to go ahead, and said to his sister and the man, "To Fukui."
-
She turned her head to look back at Miroku, who held his zanbatou carelessly dangling off his shoulder.
She pointed just ahead to the right and mumbled "Um…"; Miroku looked up from the ground and trailed from her eyes to her arm, down to her hand pointing at the small monastery.
At lease, it seemed small from the hill they were on top of.
They moved slowly down the hill and eventually found the trail. It was easy to go down, though as they walked, dust from the route got kicked up into their faces. Sango whipped up a filter mask (that covered her nose and mouth) from out of nowhere; Miroku used his large sleeves.
Quickly they made their way to the steps of the monastery. More walking, Miroku thought while looking up the narrow steps. Must be two stories high.
And as soon as they reached the doors, they knocked politely. The left door slid with a quiet cracking noise in front of the right5 door, and a short man stepped out.
He had a moustache that hung just past his chin, and his eyebrows were just as bushy.
Sango bowed. "Mushin-sama,"
He returned the bow and turned to Miroku. "Come in. I see from your dress that you are the monk."
There was an air of awkwardness around Miroku. Inuyasha told the priests to expect a monk?
He stopped thinking about it, let Sango walk ahead of him, and stepped in himself.
The monastery was small; there were four square pillars used for hanging offerings to the Buddha, laying incense, and purification of fruits and such; many men and women bustled around, giving the place a crowded feeling.
There seemed to be a ceremony taking place: there was an elderly monk touching a younger girl's forehead, mumbling, "…woman should not be daring among men or assert herself boldly, does not apply to the house of worship…"
The girl stood, bowed, and they went on with their ritual as Miroku, Sango, and Master Mushin walked to a small room off to the side that was somewhat secluded.
When Mushin slid open the door, a small cat hurtled itself toward Sango's chest. At first, she surprised, but she brought up her arms to catch the two-tailed cat, smiling in realization.
"Kirara!"
The cat mewed softly and climbed to her shoulder happily, and Sango walked into the room, Miroku following silently.
"Hiraikotsu," Mushin said, raising his hand to point at it in the corner of the room, his arm hanging lazily in that direction for a few more seconds.
He put his hand down and continued: "You may both stay in here fro the night." He turned to walk out and leave them alone.
"Ah-"
Mushin turned again, stumbling, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"If possible, could we get separate rooms?" Sango asked, slightly embarrassed: her cheeks were reddening. "Please?
Both Miroku and Sango sweatdropped. This was the first time they had both gotten a good look at Mushin: his nose was red, eyelids heavy.
Drunk! They thought, exchanging glances.
Mushin waved his hand in every possible direction, swiping the air, and said, "This will do. This will do…" He walked out the door.
Miroku very nearly laughed: a small chuckle and a one-sided smile was the only evidence. This was not at the fact that Sango's question was ignored, but at the fact that a monk was drunk.
But Sango took it the way that was likely of him, glaring daggers.
And then Miroku started to laugh. "Don't worry, I'll sleep out here." He had walked out of the room, carefully avoiding the track of the sliding door, and stayed just outside of the doors. Giving Sango a final smile, he shut the door with another crack.
-
Miroku followed after Mushin when he had shut the door soundly. "Mushin-sama, if there is anything I can do to help…"
The stubby man whirled, (and Miroku stepped back, startled,) apparently wanting to say something, but he stopped and let the hand that was hanging in midair drop to his side. He held an innocent face, staring at Miroku's shoulder.
…Or rather, the zanbatou.
"How is it that you were given this zanbatou? You are not a beginner, or an apprentice monk. An apprentice would be young…"
Miroku held a calm, expectant face aimed toward Mushin.
"-er."
Miroku seemed satisfied by that and was about to dig up an answer when Mushin turned his back on Miroku and started walking away.
"Follow me, monk." He hiccupped in the middle of his step, making him jolt slightly, and his feet slam down on the wooden floor of the monastery.
Miroku again was startled by the man, but followed him nevertheless. Respectfully, he kept quiet until they reached a small room with a cot much like Sango's given room. He guessed that it was Mushin's own.
"Here." He said, swinging a long object in Miroku's direction. "It's yours now."
Stepping back so as not to get hit, Miroku saw that it was a shakujou: it was pointed at the staff's bottom end, gold in its entirety, and held a large circle at the top in which the rod ran through with designs. The circle held three rings on either side of the staff, making a loud, high-pitched, jingling when Mushin shook the weapon, intending for Miroku to take it. Otherwise, they seemed pointless.
"I…can't," Miroku said. "This is yours. I'm not even-"
"Take it. I do not have much longer to live, anyway. You seem fit to be inheriting it." Seeing Miroku's face, he shook it even more. "Take it, monk; don't tire an old man's arm!"
Miroku seemed to be struggling with himself over whether or not to take it.
Suddenly, he bowed deeply, straightened, and graciously accepted it.
Again, after looking it over, he bowed and stayed like that until Mushin left the room, taking the old zanbatou with him.
Miroku walked over to the doorframe and watched the men and women bustling around. He took in the layout of the monastery, looking at the small garden in the middle of the room. The roof was open above that small square, allowing rain water to come through. He knew that that water would be used for baptisms and purifications. It was considered holy water as soon as it fell and man caught it.
Suddenly he caught his eyes on Sango, carrying a small bucket of water and a rag on her shoulder. Kirara followed closely at her heels, more rags transported on her back. She turned the corner and closed the door to her room once she was in.
Miroku made his way through the priests and priestesses over to her room. Knocking, his shakujou jingled over his back.
"Come in," she said, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
He slid open the door and saw her kneeling on the floor, Hiraikotsu resting on her lap.
She looked up. "What's that?"
He lifted his eyebrows; pointed at the shakujou. "This?"
She nodded.
"From Master Mushin. He took my zanbatou."
She furrowed her brow, looking at a blank spot on the wall, and continued at Hiraikotsu, not worrying about the shakujou any longer.
He watched as she carefully washed the oversized weapon. She had now tied her hair low behind her back, so that there was only a small amount of her hair in a tail, fastened by a white piece of cloth. She went over every inch of the boomerang, rubbing any dirt off.
"So, um…"
Sango looked up at him.
"…would you like any help?"
She smiled and handed him a dry rag; he came and crouched in front of her, trying to work for the same results as hers.
Soon enough, she declared that they were finished.
Miroku stood, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Well, it's late. So I'll just be taking these for you…" he leaned over to pick up the dirty rags and the half-empty water bucket. "And I'll be going to sleep out here." He gestured to the spot outside the door that looked oh-so comfortable.
"Good night, Miroku-sama," she said, standing with Hiraikotsu. "And thank you for your help."
-
Miroku jumped, waking from his sleep, and immediately stood, his hand on the door of Sango's room, just in case it happened again.
Suddenly, when he heard another crash from within the monastery, he opened the door to Sango's room.
He knew it was rude to be intruding like this, but he didn't know what was happening. He ran to Sango's cot and shook her shoulder, waking her, while Kirara ran out of the room, growling.
Sango woke almost immediately. When she was sitting up, Miroku helped her out of the cot, hand on her shoulder to usher her out of the room in any circumstances.
When Miroku heard a loud roar from the enlarged Kirara, he moved to the door, looking out, seeing demons come from the hole above the garden.
Looking back at Sango, he saw that she wasn't dressed in robes anymore.
She was dressed in all black, complimented by small bits of red.
The outfit she sported had small shoulder and elbow guards that were red, and Miroku suspected that the section from the elbow down was detachable; he recalled seeing the black sleeves on her earlier, but not the high neck. The sleeves ended like little fingerless gloves at her knuckles. There was a lengthy sash around her waist that held a small katana, but otherwise, it was completely unneeded. Her hair was tied high above her ears with a red cloth (Wasn't it white before? Miroku thought). Her red kneeguards were identical to her elbow and shoulder guards, though they merged with her boots. Hiraikotsu was held behind her back, her hand near her ear.
Miroku was surprised. A princess and a taijiya? It was funny; there were no tales of Sango being one to exterminate demons. She hadn't seemed the type to do so when they weren't in danger, but now, it seemed to fit.
She adjusted the piece at her stomach and tightened all the long red strips of cloth on her back, waist, legs, shoulders, and last, on her hair.
"I felt the demonic aura, so I put this on before sleepi-…What?" she asked demandingly of Miroku, seeing that he was gazing at her with a small grin.
"Nothing," he said, still smiling. "Let's go."
Carefully, they walked out of the door and to Kirara's side.
Demons flew around everywhere: there were snakelike ones, trolls, and even ones like humans in appearance.
Miroku cut to it, slicing them with his jingling shakujou.
But there was not on trace of the priests or priestesses. Were they all dead?
Soon the demons' carcasses lay everywhere on the monastery floor, and there were no more demons attacking them.
Sango prepared Hiraikotsu far behind her back, made a turn for momentum, and hacked the last demon into two, and then four pieces as it came back to her hand.
Suddenly, Mushin came out of his room, appearing even more drunk than the day before. He held the zanbatou he had taken from Miroku in his hand, the blade just grazing the ground.
He walked up to Miroku, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "You have saved the monastery, monk. How do we repay you?"
Miroku bowed his head modestly. "You don't-"
"Miroku-sama!"
Miroku stumbled backwards, clutching his arm. Mushin had brought up his zanbatou to stab Miroku, but it had only sliced a long cut on the outer part of his arm.
Mushin towered over Miroku, who was now on the ground. And suddenly, something that looked much like a lizard's tongue flicked out of Mushin's mouth.
"Sango-hime! That was an-"
"-urn grub! I know!"
Soon, more of the priests and priestesses emerged form rooms, their "tongues" flicking continuously.
"The urn keeper!" Sango yelled, dashing over to Mushin's room. Holding Hiraikotsu trailing behind her, she suddenly launched Hiraikotsu spinning at the small, froglike demon. In a flash he was split down the middle, and the jug he carried rolled towards Sango's feet.
She quickly picked it up after catching Hiraikotsu and stood in front of the horde of priests and priestesses. They all quivered, and the lizard-like tongues exited their mouths in wisps of smoke, back into the jar.
Mushin's, as well, returned to the jar, and Sango crushed it with a small swing of Hiraikotsu. Mushin fell to the side and lay still, snoring.
Sango ran to Miroku's side. "Are you okay?"
He grunted.
She leaned over to pull up his sleeve and look at the cut, but his hand was occupied.
Almost yelling out in surprise, she jumped up and automatically hit Hiraikotsu on the back of Miroku's head.
He smiled embarrassedly, touching his head.
-
"'To Fukui', Kohaku had said." Sango's face was red as she pulled her cloak on above her robes. She had removed her taijiya outfit to dress properly.
The little "inevitable" thing, Miroku called it, that had happened ten minutes ago, stayed fresh in Sango's head, bothering her. "Let's go."
Notes: Narabi no Toki Ch 9: "To Fukui"
1 ½ weeks of break gone!
"Hyakki" is not a real place. Unless Katie's brain is a real place.
Yes, I have changed Sango's dress. Royalty wears more layers, and now she's a princess.
Yes, I replicated the experience of the episode where Miroku is getting his wind tunnel mended. Don't kill me. I am much disclaimerful.
Yes. "Younger", because Miroku is not old at all!
Mushin is startling.
Miroku gets his shakujou in the way I always saw it.
Hey, you describe Sango's outfit.
The End.
Kidding.
There's a hint in the text about my next fanfiction. That is, if I'm going to make it at all. It's an interesting enough plot to me, but it's pending. (hint: dialogue)
Never fear! Chapter 10 is –cough starting to be written cough- here!
15 pages! 3768 words!
Review.
With gusto.