The Decade that Roared
Chapter One
1921, Chicago
-x-x-x-
The gentle tinkle of bells indicated the presence of a new customer. Hearing this, the storeowner turned to face this said person, only to find an unexpected surprise.
Standing in the doorway was a woman, drenched from head to toe with rainwater from the storm outside.
In actuality, women weren't rare in this music store. They came in all the time, with their children to buy their first piano, or accompanying their husbands to get the latest piece of music by their favorite artist.
This young woman was by herself, a beat-up instrument case grasped in her hand and a nasty glare set upon her slightly tanned face. Her voice broke the awkward silence by saying, "Are you Mushin?"
"Yep," came the hiccuped reply from the bald, and obviously drunk, old man.
The woman's scowl was immediately replaced with a relieved smile and she nervously ran her fingers through her thick, brown hair. "Oh, that's good. I've been halfway across Chicago looking for this store. That's the last time I take directions from that darn waiter," she breathed, placing the case upon the counter and flicking it open. In it was an old cornet, battered and looking like it was dented in several places. "I was wondering how much it could cost for you to fix this. You see, it can't play anything from C to G sharp. I thought the valves were just stuck, but they're all working fine. So, can you help me?" she finished, allowing the man behind the counter to examine the instrument that was in such poor condition.
After a close analysis of the cornet, the storeowner sighed. "Might a I suggest buying a new instrument?" he finally told her. "This cornet is pretty darn crappy and trumpets only cost about seventy five dollars. You can buy a new cornet if you want to, but--"
The conversation was interrupted when the sound of bells quietly announced the arrival of another. The dark-haired man that walked through the door, shaking his head slightly to relieve it of the water that stuck to him. "Hello, Mushin," he addressed the old man. "It really is pretty bad out there; I had to walk a couple of blocks, which wasn't really that fun at all. Anyway, do you have--" He stopped when he noticed the exceptionally pretty brunette at the counter. "Oh, hello, miss! Might I ask what your name is?" he stated grandly, approaching the lady and taking her hand in his.
Now, this woman didn't really like the idea of giving out her name to this pervert. She was just about to go with this plan, when Mushin said, "Actually, I do need your name, Miss. And your address would be helpful, too. That way I can deliver your instrument when it's all fixed."
Damn fate.
At this, the man that still held her hand in his smiled like a fool. Of all the luck! He had happened to walk in when a beautiful young musician was about to give her name and her home address! Seeing his idiotic grin, the woman turned nervously to Mushin and said, "Um, is it okay if he leaves?" She pointed to the lecher on her hand.
Mushin nodded and shooed the man away. He retreated to the other aisles, where he looked at all the newest instruments in boredom. "Now," the old man said, taking out some paper. "What's your name?"
"Sango Thompson," was the quick and quiet reply.
"And your home address is?" he continued.
After all the necessities were finished, Mushin told Sango that, if she would like, she could look around the shop and see what she could find. Sango had no intention of doing this, seeing as there was a lecher in the store that she thought had been eavesdropping on her telling of personal information. As she made her way to the door, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.
"My god! That's the most beautiful trumpet I've ever seen!" Sango whispered excitedly as she trotted to the instrument and held it in her hands.
As she stroked the bell and grinned with delight, someone whispered, "Oh yes, that happens to be a very good brand." She whirled around and came face to face with that pervert from before. His blue eyes sparkled as he added, "And I never really thought a woman would take interest in playing the trumpet. Mot of the time it's singing, or piano even."
Sango snorted in a very unfeminine manner at this. "Just because I'm female doesn't mean I can't play an instrument dominated by the male population. Why," She turned to him and eyed him suspiciously. "Do you play trumpet?"
He chuckled a bit then answered. "No, tenor saxophone."
She nodded slightly and said," Well, that's nice." Sango set the instrument in its place and made her way towards the door. The man she had been talking to watched her, a little hurt that such a striking young woman had to be so cold. (This was only slight however, seeing as when she walked away, he was rewarded with a very nice view.)
Feeling like someone was eyeing her, Sango faced the man and said, "By the way," At this point, her cheeks were so red, she felt like she had a fever. Why was she even asking him this? But she talked on. "I didn't quite catch your name."
"It's Miroku. Yours?" He smiled at her, causing Sango's face to become an even deeper crimson. "Sango." With that, she dashed through the door and crossed the street, a blush plainly set upon her face.
Mushin walked back to his spot behind the counter. "She seemed nice."
"Yes, very nice indeed," Miroku replied, stretching a bit and still looking at the door.
"Still," the old man slurred, still hiccuping. "You have work to do, so get to it."
Miroku sighed, casting his sight on his work and muttering, "Yes, I know. I'm going , you demanding drunk."
-x-
Sango was fidgeting again. Sitting in the chair by the door, she couldn't help it. That damn old guy (Mushin, was it?) told her that he would fix her cornet in four days. Well, this was the fourth day, and her beloved instrument wasn't here.
She ran to the window and glanced up and down the street. After seeing nothing that could relieve her unease, she let the curtain go and slumped back into her chair. "Sis, you really shouldn't be so nervous," her brother said, still reading his book. "That music store owner doesn't lie, even if he isn't sober at anytime."
"He said it'd be done today, Kohaku," Sango whispered looking out the window again.
"Sis, it's nine in the morning! There's thirteen hours left in the day!" Kohaku left his studies and rose to put a reassuring hand on his sister's shoulder. "It'll be okay."
Sango smiled at this. "You're right, Kohaku. I'll go upstairs and find something to keep my mind of it." His older sister quietly walked towards the stairs, but before she could make it, she ran towards the closet and grabbed her coat. Quickly slipping it on, she hastily opened the door. "But it never hurts to check!" The door slammed and Kohaku saw his sister sprint in the direction of the shop through the window.
-x-
'These directions are horrible,' Miroku thought, shoving the piece of paper back into his pocket. He'd been walking for over half an hour trying to find that Sango girl's house. Mushin's scrawled out directions weren't any help either. They'd been smudged in several places and Miroku had the sneaking suspicion that the street name was misspelled.
At first, Miroku was euphoric that he would be able to deliver the instrument to an attractive girl and get some exercise in the process. That all changed when he ended up taking a left at the wrong time and realizing his mistake about ten minutes after it was made. He then retraced his steps and accidentally walked into a pothole that was filled to the brim with water from the storms the city had been having the past four days. So, knees soaked and tired, he was about to give up his quest.
That was, until a familiar girl ran across the street.
Upon seeing her, Miroku knew it was Sango. He shouted her name to get her attention, but she was so focused on whatever goal she had in mind, that she just kept running. He had to practically sprint to catch up with her and tap her on the shoulder. This action finally got her back to earth and she faced the panting man who was holding her cornet case. "My cornet!" Sango shouted, taking it from him and hardly aware of the fact that he was trying to breathe regularly again.
"You really like that instrument, don't you?" he asked, standing up.
Sango nodded at this question and answered with, "Yes, it's my first ever instrument. My brother bought it from his band teacher and gave it to me." She pulled the case into a tiny hug then something hit her. "Hey, you were delivering this?" Miroku nodded. "Then you know my address?" He nodded again, his smile growing a little wider. "Oh, crap."
"Yes, and we'll be seeing a little bit more of each other from now on, Sango Thompson of 132, Sherman Drive," Miroku called out, walking away and laughing a bit.
'Well, that's probably the last time I go to that store,' Sango thought, telling herself she'd also lock the door twice from now on. As she sauntered back to her house, she realized that the handle of this case wasn't that of her cornet one. Frightened, she put it down on the sidewalk and clicked open the latches. As she slowly lifted the top, it was clear that the instrument inside wasn't her beat-up cornet…
But that trumpet she had seen in the store four days ago.
A note also fluttered about by the wind, tied to the bell of the instrument. Sango plucked it off and read it, absolutely embarrassed by the contents it held.
Dear Sango Thompson of 132, Sherman Drive,
I hope you enjoy this lovely gift from a dear friend.
Miroku
And another damned blush crept onto her face again.
-x-x-x-
A/N:
Hello. This is my-name-is-pucca. Anyway, I must let you know that since I don't pay attention in band, I don't know that much about brass instruments. I play tenor saxophone, so I'll be okay with that. If you do find a mistake, go ahead and laugh at my stupidity. Here's an example of something you can say: "Hey stooooopid! You don't know squat about brass instruments! That makes you a retard! YOU SUCK!1!1!" I'll just laugh with you, good friend. Ha ha ha.
(I got all the names from my fourth grade yearbook that was right next to the computer. Pretty lazy of me, huh?)
Wotcher! It's me, Girl in No Man's land, who's co-writing this story and is happy because she's never written anything on fanfiction before! After much deliberation, we came to the conclusion that Sango would play a trumpet! And Miroku would play the tenor saxophone! (Wow, I almost sounded smart there!) I'm here to help my-name-is-pucca with all the band stuff, since she don't pay attention! However, my-name-is-pucca was the culprit behind this whole plot. We're going to reference a lot of people you probably don't know here, so if you don't, just ask us. We'll help! Also, next chapter ain't Sango/Miroku, it's Kagome/InuYasha, then Kagura/Sesshoumaru. THEN Sango/Miroku!
(Has anyone else noticed that my-name-pucca doesn't use exclamation points?)
Disclaimer: We don't own InuYasha. It belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. This cannot be helped, no matter how many episodes we reenact with plushies. --Sigh--