InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Nikanaru ❯ Pity Date ( Chapter 4 )

General Disclaimer

I don't own the Inuyasha series, nor do I aim to make profit off this. And frankly, I doubt I could if I applied myself.

However, I do claim unofficial ownership over my original characters.

 

 

Previous Chapter Illustration:

 

 

www.deviantart.com/view/20818124/

 

That probably looks like it hurt more than it actually did. But I do so love drawing warped expressions, double takes, and the like. Poor Max.

Oh, and that's him in his illusionary human state. In case you were wondering what happened to the ears and facial markings. But in case you missed them:

 

BONUS:

 

www.deviantart.com/view/21111313/

 

It's a Higurashi family shot, as they appear in this story. Grandpa probably doesn't look nearly as old as he should, but he is taking damn good care of himself, right? (I.E. Author/Artist sucks at drawing wrinkles.) Besides, my own Grandmother, in her 80's is still going jogging every morning with a brace surgically inserted into her shinbone.

 

Yeah, that's right. My Grandmother could totally kick your Grandmother's ass.

But I digress…

 

 

Nikanaru

 

Chapter 4:

 

Pity Date

 

Or

 

The Teen Gross-Out/Romance Phase of This Fanfiction…I Swear To God it Won't Happen Again.

 

 

 

 

 

It was to be a very important, well-dressed occasion for Souta. He was making absolutely sure to look downright impeccable. Bathed, and scrubbed to the point of virtually giving himself a body-wide Indian burn. Hair combed and gelled to as much perfection as one who wasn't a professional hairstylist could manage. Single tuxedo, dry cleaned, pressed, and at the ready. Specialty cologne, one that he'd picked as his regular one after years of experimenting with many types, depending on female reaction to it. Everything was ready. Everything was perfectly planned.

 

Everything except annoying relatives buzzing his apartment.

 

“Yello?” He cautiously answered over the speaker.

 

“Uncle Souta!” Came the somewhat electronically distorted voice. Souta grimaced. Despite the distortion, he could tell that the voice belonged to Max.

 

Also, because no one else ever called him “Uncle.” At least not since his days putting fellow fifth-graders in submission holds.

 

Under any other circumstances, Souta would be delighted to have Max over, but things were tight. He had just finished a phone-in interview with a reporter from Cleats Magazine, and was scheduled to be at the Ritz in forty-five minutes.

 

“Uh, Max…” He called over the speaker, hoping not to sound like an asshole. “…I've got to head out in like, five minutes. Can you come back tomorrow or something?”

 

“I just really need to borrow some clothes. I won't be two minutes, I swear!” Came the distorted plea. Souta sighed and hit the button to open the lobby door. While waiting for his nephew to climb all 4 stories, he took another moment to brush his teeth. They've had these sickly stains of pale yellow here and there which, for the life of him, he couldn't seem to get rid of. A fifth try couldn't hurt, though.

 

Spitting out the foam just as a knock to the tune of “Shave and a haircut” was heard at his front door, Souta headed over and opened up. A somewhat overeager Max stepped in.

 

“Okay, Squirt, what do you need?” Souta quickly asked.

 

“I, uh, wanted to borrow one of your sports jackets.” Max replied. Souta couldn't imagine what on earth Max would need with one of those, but eager to have him out of his hair as soon as possible, he simply went into his closet, grabbed a nice enough-looking brown one and tossed it to Max. After trying it on for size, Max smiled in approval.

 

“Thanks a lot.” He beamed with a thumbs up. “I'll bring it back tomorrow morning, alright?”

 

“Sure, sure.” Souta approved, waving him off. And Max did indeed dart off out the door, appearing to be in just as great a hurry as Souta. Against his better judgment, this intrigued Souta, and caused him to poke his head out of the hallway door to ask, “Hey, what did you need that for?”

 

“A date.” Max called back at him as he descended the staircase. This left a wide eyed Souta with only an empty hallway to stare blankly into in stupor.

 

That seemed to happen an awful lot. Ironically, despite being the youngest blood member of the Higurashi family, and despite having idolized Inuyasha back when he was a kid, it was Souta who always approached every new situation concerning his adopted demon nephew with caution. When his mother had decided to take Max in, it had been Souta who had raised some slight objections, fearing that a demon child might not be tamable. It was he who had raised slight objections about Max going out in public and to school, fearing Max's lack of social skills and potential control over his strength. It was he who had raised objections about Max going to family reunions, fearing that no one would buy the “Long lost relative” excuse. Thankfully, he had been wrong on all counts, as Max had not only been an excellently behaved child, (with a few notable exceptions) he had developed social skills quite splendidly, learned expertly to conceal his true form…

 

…and their extended family, as it turned out, were idiots.

 

But once again, Souta found himself wanting to object to Max actually going out on a bonna fide date. What if…what if…

 

…well, what if what? As he reflected on it, he didn't really have a good reason to object to this. Primarily, he'd feared that Max being overly intimate with anyone would lead that person to discover Max's demonic physique. An example off the top of his head was that if Max were French kissing anyone, the tongue of whichever girl it was might brush up against his fangs. But frankly, Souta doubted that they'd go that far on the first date.

 

But beyond that, Souta knew that Max had enough common sense to know what to and what not to do in a given situation. He'd kept his true appearance a secret all these years, and wasn't about to blow it all just because he was with some girl.

 

Yes, despite the fact that Souta had an ever-nagging feeling that something might go wrong, he decided to ignore it. Max should go on his date, end of story.

 

Snapping out of his refection, Souta looked up at the clock and muttered an obscenity when he realized that he was going to be late for his.

 

*********

 

One Hour Ago

 

I can't believe I listened to them.

I can't believe I actually tried this.

I can't believe I even considered trying.

I can't believe I even took my fucking pants off! This stream of thought repeated itself for what was probably the ninth or tenth time since he entered the locked bathroom, as pantless as he claimed. Before leaving school today, Kato, Ciro, Dai and Joe had once again accosted Max about his forthcoming date. Evidently, they believed that the success of this romantic excursion would likely make the upperclass girls reflect well on Max and his clique, and it was therefore their invested interest to see to it that things went well. Consequently, the four of them had showered him with “advice” which, now in retrospect, led him to believe that they all had no clue what the fuck they were talking about.

 

And one amongst those pearls of wisdom had been the suggestion that Max…masturbate before going out, so that he could presumably empty all the horny out of his system and not get any on his date. Something about appearing like less of the sex-starved teenager that you actually are by depleting your sexual energies beforehand.

 

I'm pretty sure that's not even how it works.

 

Max had wanked in the past…hell, since he'd been about fourteen…maybe not as much as the average person. He figured his average to be about once every three days, a guesstimate that had come up during that one time he and his friends were comparing personal stats, and Max had come out with the second-lowest figure, ahead of Ciro. (The story behind how that conversation ever even came up is long and winded.)

 

But this kind of self-service had always been so casual, so free flowing those other times. Now imposed with a deadline, and schedule, a purpose… all this serious business rather killed the mood. For the past few fifteen minutes, Max had peen poking himself, unable to rouse much enthusiasm in his wang.

 

Come on, buddy. We've done this before. You know the routine: You spend all day in your Fruit-of-the-Loom prison cell, my hand comes in for a conjugal visit, you stand up for a full salute and use up all the energy you don't spend laying around flaccid, we both go home happy. Sweet-talking it didn't seem to do any good. This was just awkward. The fuck do you want? Dinner and a movie? I already make sure you've got quality underwear rubbing up against you. No chafing or any of that shit!

 

A knock on the door interrupted Max's telepathic conversation with his penis.

 

“Max?” Grandmother's voice. Jeans are hiked up so fast he practically gives his legs denim-burn.

 

“Yeah?” He manages without sounding either as flustered or guilty as he was.

 

“You've been in there an awful long time, and I haven't heard a flush or anything yet. Is everything okay?”

 

“Everything's fi…you keep track of how many times I flush??”

 

“I'm just saying. And I need one of my pills from the medicine cabinet. Are you going to be much longer? Nothing's wrong?”

 

Well, I might have been impotent before, but I sure as hell am now. Aborting his plans for self-gratification as fast as anyone else would when their grandmother comes into the equation, Max dejectedly opened the door.

 

“I'm fine, yeah. I should actually get going now, though.”

 

“Okay, sweetie. Have fun.”

 

********

 

Present

 

“Hey! You're early.” Kina said, as she spotted Max through the crowd at the theatre lobby.

 

“Yeah, there wasn't as much on my to-do list as I thought.” He replied as he waltzed up to her, trying to look casual despite proudly wearing of a fancy looking, several-hundred-dollar sports jacket. Max wasn't exactly a fashion freak, as he was otherwise wearing a red t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, but felt that one semi-formal article of clothing would show that he had at least some interest in dressing up for this occasion. “So, how's Reya doing?”

 

“A lot better now.” She smiled devilishly. “As it turns out, kicking the shit out of Yamaro cheered her up a hell of a lot. Me and the girls spent the day with her, and she seems to be in way better spirits.”

 

“I heard you got suspended.” Max queried with a sympathetic tone in his voice.

 

“Me and Yoshi did, yeah. But we didn't get any charges pressed against us. We didn't even get kicked off the squad.” She pleasantly chimed. “Besides, midterm week just ended, so it's not like we're missing much.”

 

“All in all, a relatively happy ending.” He smiled.

 

“Well, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.” She guessed. Sighing, she also added: “Of course, it would've been a hell of a lot better if that fuckstick hadn't laid his hands of Reya in the first place.” A pause was pregnant in the air as the two reflected on the seriousness of that incident, as if mourning it to give it its proper respects. “Well…I did all I could, I guess. And a little more. Anyways, how's your face?”

 

“Oh.” Max said, rubbing his hand against his cheek. “Still sore, but the bruise is almost gone.”

 

Max had had to deck himself again right before he came.

 

“So!” She perked up, livening the mood a little. “What'dya wanna see? Casual Armageddon?” The albino-like eyebrows on Max's face raised at that suggestion.

 

Huh?! Doesn't she know what kind of flick that is??

 

“Uh…” He reluctantly began. “…I'm not sure that's your kind of movie.”

 

“Why? I saw it last week and I loved it. I'd see it again.”

 

“You did??” Surprised, he had to also admit. “Er…actually I saw it too.”

 

“Oh yeah? What was your favorite part?”

 

“Uh…I guess when that bad guy was trapped in the rotating chair, and Jet just held on to his head until snapped completely around.” He related somewhat shyly.

 

“Oh yeah! Mine was when the big boss was attacking Jet with a wrecking ball, and then he had a flashback about his father training him, and then caught the ball and threw it right back at the boss!” This was VERY weird. He was used to discussing movies of this nature with his friends, but he never expected a potential romantic interest to share his love of exceptionally violent action flicks.

 

This is either a sign that I've found my soulmate, or that I need to start running for my life.

 

“Well, okay…how about…” Wanting to further see if they had more coinciding movie genre likes, he scanned the listings for a film that was a good example of it. “…uh…Loyd of the Rings: The Fellowship of Yo Mamma?” Her face seemed to brighten at that suggestion.

 

“Yeah! I've been wanting to see a new Zucker movie for a long time.”

 

“Really?” Max could barely believe his invisible pointy ears.

 

“Sure. Why, were you testing me?” She asked, her eyebrows raising in suspicion.

 

“No, it's just…” He started to scramble for the right words, not wanting to fuck things up. Laghaminute films, Zucker's specialty, had been largely considered a bane on modern cinema in recent years due to embarrassing efforts by untalented filmmakers since 2009 to copy the style. Confessing that you still liked those types of movies was like confessing that you actually liked Michael Bolton. “…I just never expected to meet another Laughaminute fan. At least not one who was willing to admit it out loud.”

 

“Ugh. I know. Abrahams, Zucker and Brooks perfected it, and then those pricks who made all those Stupid Genre Sendup movies totally ruined it for everyone!”

 

“I know! What's the deal? I mean people don't stop watching teen romance movies even though half of them are total shit!”

 

“Seriously. Last week, I had to go see some shitfest with my little sister. Have you ever noticed the way, in half of these movies, there's some cliché scene where the guy and the girl turn out to have a lot in common after all? And they're like, totally surprised?”

 

“Yeah. Christ, writers need to come up with something original.” They both paused a moment before looking over to the ticket counter.

 

“Well, the next showing's in five minutes. Wanna make a run for it?” He suggested.

 

“Why not?” She smiled back at him as they both approached the booth.

 

*******

 

 

Ten Years Ago

 

 

“…near the end of the dyamo's legacy, a monk of great virtue and spirit came to the castle…”

 

“Great Grandpa?”

 

“…offering to ward away the evil spirits that were possessing the poor hime. The daimyo was only all too pleased…”

 

“Great Granpa?”

 

“…to offer the monk his treasures for those services, but being a servant of Buddha, the monk valiantly…”

 

“Great Grandpa!” Max repeated, just a little louder. The old man finally looked away from his tome to the young child laying in his bed.

 

“What the matter?” Grandpa asked.

 

“You've read that story before.” Max fussed. Granpa blinked at him.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah. That's the legend where the good monk refuses the daimio's daughter's hand in marriage. And then later some delinquent monk comes along and tries to get her to have her children.” Max recited. Grandpa, surprised, sheepishly flipped through the pages of the tome he was reading.

 

“Um…Alright, how about the Legend of the Oni Matsuroko?”

 

“Heard it.”

 

“The Story of the Seven Mako Spirits?”

 

“Heard it. Twice.”

 

“Uh…The Legend of…Zorro?”

 

“…Great Greandpa....” An annoyed groan signaled that the old man had nothing.

Grandpa closed the tome in defeat. Since Max had been old enough to have bedtime stories read to him, Grandpa regaled him with all the mythic tales and legends that he, in his years as a shrine priest, had known, just like he used to do for his daughter and two grandchildren. And quite unlike any of them, Max seemed genuinely enthralled with those stories. Enough to actually notice when one of his tales was a repeat. Grandpa wondered briefly how he could have repeated stories with Max when he was so young and not his other relatives…then realized that he must have, only they'd never paid any attention in the first place and wouldn't have noticed.

 

“So you've heard every legend this old man's got to pass on to the next generation then, huh?” Grandpa mused somewhat depressingly. A moment passed before Max spoke up.

 

“What about the well?” Grandpa instantly stiffened.

 

“W…what well?” He stumbled.

 

“The one out in the courtyard. The one Grandma won't let me go near.” He stated. “You've never told me any legends about that one.”

 

“Oh! Uh…” Grandpa scrambled his brain, trying to think fast. Unfortunately, he had a horrible track record to live up to when it came to improvising plausible excuses. As proven by the fact that he had once called his granddaughter's high school and explained that one of her prolonged absences was due to AIDS. “It's…just a regular well. Nothing special about it.” He wondered if that would pass.

 

“Then why won't Grandma let me go near it?”

 

“It's…uh…well, you see…”

 

 

The Next Morning

 

 

“Hey, Grandma?” Max asked between chews of his pancakes at the breakfast table.

 

“Yes, dear?” She replied as she flipped more on the stove.

 

“If the well out back is infested with AIDS, then shouldn't we call in a biohazard crew or something instead of just leaving it there?” A pancake, which was in mid flip before Max had opened his mouth, made a lovely splattering sound as it missed the pan and landed on the tile floor.

 

“DAD!!!”

 

Moments Later

 

 

“Max…” Sakura began, now having seated herself, Max and Grandpa in the living room for what appeared to be a serious talk. “…about that well.”

 

“Why are we keeping AIDS in there? Are we secretly terrorists?” Max asked with a worried expression.

 

“What?? No!” Sakura flapped, glaring at her father. “We don't have AIDS, or any diseases whatsoever in there!”

 

“Oh. Then why…”

 

“You're Great Grandfather was just being silly.” She answered before he could finish.

 

“Uh…okay.” He replied. “Then why can't I go near it?” Max watched as both Sakura and his great grandpa exchanged worried expressions before returning their attention to Max. They both knew this conversation was bound to come along at some point, and frankly, they were quite surprised it hadn't earlier. That was fine by them, of course, as they would have rather not discussed it at all, but they couldn't keep Max in the dark either. He had to know sometime.

 

“Max…” Grandpa began carefully. “Have we ever told you about…Kagome?”

 

“Kagome?” Max repeated. The name did strike a chord in his mind. He'd heard it a few times before, but never paid it much mind. “I don't think so. Why?”

 

“She was…” Sakura began, her eyes closed solemnly as she spoke “…IS my daughter. And your uncle Souta's sister.”

 

“Oh.” Max stated.

 

“She also…may be your mother.” Grandpa added.

 

“IS your mother.” Sakura sharply corrected.

 

“My…mother?” Max wondered. Now in the waning days of his innocence, Max had begun to wonder about why other kids at school had “mothers” and he didn't. For a time, he just assumed he did, only his was instead called “Grandma,” as if a different version of the same thing. It had also occurred to him that he didn't look a thing like any of his “family”, so he just assumed that he was multicultural, like Al. He'd seen her mother and the two looked totally different. “So I have a mother, too?”

 

“Well, of course you do, kiddo. Where do you think you came from?” Grandpa asked him. Max could only stare blankly in response.

 

Where did I come from? I'm only six! I don't think about these things! Ask me about my tax deductibles and geo-politics while you're at it, why don'tcha?

 

“Uh…the…stork?” He tried uncertainly. Sakura threw Grandpa another glare. On top of this discussion, they didn't want to have to talk about the birds and the bees.

 

“Never mind that.” Sakura dismissed that direction of conversation. “We're going to tell you about your mother…and your father. It's going to be a little hard, because truthfully, we don't know all the details. But we'll do our best.”

 

The story of Kagome Higurashi, to the best knowledge of her family, was related to Max over the next couple of hours.

 

 

Weeks Later

 

Max stood a few yards away from the Bone-Eater's Well. What he'd learned a few weeks ago had been almost unbelievable, even by the standards of an imaginative six-year old. His grandmother and great grandfather had told him all about how their daughter once fell through this well to another time period; a time when demons and mythological forces were rampant. They told him about how she came back and forth through the well with the person they claimed was his father, a dog demon named Inuyasha. They told him how no one besides those two could seem to use the well, making it impossible for them to tell him personally what the other side of the well was like. And they told him that that was why they could never go find her when she one day went through the well and just never came back.

 

And this was where he was found. They'd just discovered him in there, at the bottom of the well, the same entranceway that Kagome and Inuyasha had used to disappear in between the centuries. Max had been purposefully sent here by someone.

 

Sakura and Grandpa had assured Max, had made absolutely sure that he understood how much they loved and cared for him, no matter where he came from, nor if he wasn't human.

 

Above all, though, they had made certain that he understood why he couldn't go near the well. As near as any of them could understand the properties of it, only certain people could use it. No one was certain what the criteria was, but it was a fair bet nevertheless that Max would be able to pass through. After all, he had come through it once as a child; it stood to reason that he might be able to do it again. They would have had the well demolished altogether if they still weren't clinging to a faint hope that Kagome might someday come back through, too.

 

And on the other side of the well was, at this point, God-Knows-What. History books might be able to suggest something about what was going on there, but official history also never motioned anything about demons and the occult in the Feudal times. If Max went through, there was no telling if something might prevent him from getting back, or just kill him outright.

 

He had been unusually quiet these last few weeks, these revelations going through his mind almost every minute of every day. For the first couple of days after Sakura had made it clear with him the dangers of the well, he did exactly as he was told and steered clear of it, sometimes even running whenever he had to go past it. But now, every time he came home from school, he'd find himself just staring at the well house as though it were some enigmatic entity that held the answers to the questions he now found himself with. Sakura had told him that she firmly believed that her daughter was still alive on the other side of the well, but something was preventing her from coming back. Several times while relating this to Max, Sakura had broken into tears. Even Grandpa had shed a few salty drops from his baggy eyes remembering the wonderful girl who had been so suddenly and so mysteriously taken from them.

 

But I could go find her.

 

Yes, that was what young Max had been thinking to himself over and over again these past days. Beyond that well was someone very important to his family, someone they missed painfully. But they couldn't do a thing to save her because the well wouldn't let them pass. Max, on the other hand, could. He could go find her and bring her back home. Then they'd be a whole family again. Then Grandma and Great Grandpa wouldn't have to cry anymore. And Max would have a mother.

 

A mother?

 

It was weird. He'd never felt like there were any particular holes in his life, as he was pretty content with what he had. He didn't feel a need to have a mother, or a father. Grandma, Great Grandpa, and Uncle Souta had always given him everything he ever needed. So, then, shouldn't he give something back? He loved them very much, and wanted nothing more than to see them happy. Grandma had taken him in principally because she'd believed that it was Kagome who'd sent Max here, and that it had been her intention for Sakura to take care of him. But knowing Grandma, she'd have taken him in even if she'd known that wasn't true. She was a wonderful person; a sweet, kind woman who deserved all the happiness in the world, and Max wanted nothing more than to see a smile on her face.

 

So once again he found himself staring at the well-house, pondering.

 

Maybe I should…? No, I shouldn't… Grandma said not to, but…But if he could do something, even at a risk to himself, to make them happy, then shouldn't he?

 

Bravely, Max found himself approaching the well. It had since years been padlocked, with a sign marked Danger: Off Limits for any tourists. Reluctantly passing his little hands over the crusty wooden frame of the door, he carefully looked it over. It didn't seem at all impressive.

 

I'll…I'll just see what it looks like on the inside. He reasoned with himself as he grasped the padlock. Yanking on it experimentally, he yelped in shock when the wood the lock was attached to came cracking off. He quickly looked around him to make sure no one was watching, and then carefully placed the lock on the ground. As the door creaked open, the rank of old wood and dust came whooshing out, forcing the child to pull his shirt collar over his sensitive nose.

 

It was dark inside, but Max had exceptional eyesight and was able to see easily the contents within. Cobwebs were practically everywhere, as if an arachnid metropolis had been developed over the years in this shed. There were a few tools scattered here and there on benches, and an unlit chandelier at the top of the room. But most notably of all was the wooden well in the center of the structure.

 

Daring to step down the stairs leading to said well, Max slowly and carefully maneuvered around various cobwebs, stepping cautiously so as to not creak the wooden steps. At last, he placed his hands on the rim of the well and, with a quick breath, pulled himself up to look down it.

 

Disappointingly, the inside appeared to be nothing but four wooden walls going several meters down to a dirt floor.

 

THIS is the great time portal? He wondered, expecting something a little more…grand. Staring down into the darkness, uncertainty clouded his resolve. He wanted to jump down it. Wanted to travel to this magical era that his mother was supposedly in. Wanted to see the sights and sounds of mystical energies, meet other demons. But he also knew he wouldn't dare do that if it meant leaving his family. If only he could know for certain he could come back…

 

His wishy-washiness on the issue, however, was irrelevant, as some wet mold which had developed on the unmaintained rim, made it for him. His hand slipping suddenly forth, Max screeched in surprise as his whole form went tumbling into the depths. His heart did a few jumps as he felt the air rushing around him, suddenly worried to death that the portal would open up and swallow him in.

 

But all he did was unleash a painful grunt as his body slammed into hard dirt.

 

Wincing, rubbing his head and looking up, Max only saw the roof of the well house. Nothing had happened. The well would not open up for him.

 

He wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was disappointed. He did want to try and be a hero, want to try ad make everything right. But another part of him never wanted to leave this place for the sake of anything. He was happy here. He didn't ever want to leave.

 

Clawing his way out of the well, Max quickly darted outside and closed the doors. That just left the dilemma of the broken lock. Not really knowing that much about carpentry or furnishing, Max just pretty much tried to jam it back into place really hard. When that seemed to more or less succeed, he concluded that it might someday fall back off if someone fooled with it. And then they'd get the blame, not him.

 

I really hope so, at least. He concluded as he headed back towards the house.

 

*********

 

Present

 

“I have to say, that did suck an awful lot of balls.” Max dejectedly stated as he and Kina exited theatre 9.

 

“Yeah. God, why anybody do those movies RIGHT anymore??” She concurred. “I'm sorry.”

 

“What are you sorry for? We both wanted to see it. We're both equally at fault here.”

 

“I guess, but I really wanted to do something fun. You're a really nice guy, y'know? I wanted to make it up to you.”

 

“Oh, for…forget that! It's not like I'm some whiny little bitch who needs comfort just cause a girl beat him up.”

 

“Really? So you're perfectly comfortable with your masculinity?” She grinned dubiously at him.

 

“Um…yes?” That came out sounding about as sure as the weather.

 

“Well, if that's the case, then I've got an idea!” Her arm hooked around his, as she led him out of the theatre and down the streets.

 

“Whoa whoa whoa! Where are we going?”

 

“Unadulterated fun, if you can put your pride and shame aside for a few moments.” Came her cackling reply.

 

Oh shit. Cringing in surrender, Max permitted himself to be dragged helplessly down several streets and avenues until finally they ended up at a local arcade.

 

“Videogames?” That was a bit anticlimactic for what supposed heinousness she'd been hinting at. “Uh…sure.” She just laughed and shook her head from side to side.

 

“This place is actually where I took up dancing. C'mon.”

 

“Uh…what?” That made NO sense as near as Max's mid could manage. “You went dancing in…” However, it quickly became clear when he was brought before one particular machine, causing him to trail off in utter horrification.

 

Oh, Jesus H. Christ, NO.

 

Before him it stood, blinking, flashing, roaring…a machine that had revolutionized the gaming industry decades ago by making gaming not only fun, but physically active. As a maddeningly unfortunate side-effect, the once obese and placid gamers were whipped into relatively healthy shape and are still alive nowadays, rather than alone at home, their fat asses on their couches, suffering massive heart attacks as they rightfully should just before their cats begin to eat at their corpses.

 

“Dance Dance Evolution????” Those six syllables were all expulsed from his mouth like most people expulse phlegm. “Please tell me you're fucking with me. Seriously, tell me right now.”

 

“Oh, come on!” Despite that he had both heels firmly digging on the tiled floor of the arcade, she seemed to have no problem dragging him over to the machine. “I know it weird at first, but trust me, it's fun!”

 

“The only way you will get me on that thing is at gunpoint.” He growled. “And even then, it would still depend on what part of my body you're aiming at.”

 

“Oh, give me a break.” She gave him light punch in the shoulder. “You're telling me you still watch laughaminute movies even when everyone else makes fun of you for it, but you're got too much pride to get on this thing?”

 

“You can't draw a parallel between those!” He argued. “Those movies once had their glory days. This was always lame!”

 

“For your information, dancing on this thing was what got me started on the path to cheerleading.” She haughtily informed him.

 

Then Jack Campbell must be doing 360's in his grave.

 

“Point is, if it wasn't for this machine, you wouldn't be here on a date with…” She paused a moment to give him a wry smile. “…How did your friend put it? `A frigging cheerleader'?” Although there were bright lights flashing all over the arcade room, the red that tinted Max's visage right then stood out quite noticeably.

 

“You heard…I mean…I didn't…” Stumbling over his words much like a person with a broken leg stumbles over a rocky path, Kina just couldn't help but extend her grin further.

 

“Don't worry, I'm not putting you in the same category as those morons.” She assured him. “Still, the fact nevertheless remains that you owe that machine for this dating someone this hot.”

 

Glad to see she's got no self-esteem problems.

 

“So pay your homage by giving it a shot!” With barely any other chance to protest, Max was literally shoved onto the dance pad. Immediately turning around to face the crowd now gathered around the machine, stage fright began to set in. With a whimper of frustration, he looked down dubiously over the dance pad.

 

The game had advanced considerably since its origins as Revolution. The former four-way dance pad had expanded by several squares. Now the game was not so much a dance stepping exercise as it was a desperate game of synchronized Twister.

 

The jingle of the token going into to machine signaled his doom. Looking over to the other side of the machine, Kina got on the other pad.

 

“Oh, relax, for God's sake. I'll do it with you.” That did offer him some mild comfort, but not nearly as much as he needed to prevent himself from gulping in utter loathing as to what was about to happen while she selected the song and difficulty level. A digital voice from the machine's speakers demanded obnoxiously:

 

“READY?”

 

Fuck you, asschunk.

 

The beat of a techno mix boomed throughout the arcade as Max hesitantly set his foot down on the specific square the screen indicated him to.

 

 

30 Minutes Later

 

 

Cheering crowds roared on as the beads of sweat flew off his now-shiny forehead. His legs danced to and fro in an almost impossible but God-Damned-Determined attempt to keep up with the beat on the maximum difficulty level.

 

When finally the song hit its final note, Max polished off his last step with an obligatory disco pose, his one hand pointing high into the sky. Plastered over both screens were the scores of himself and Kina's, his score a scant 50 points under hers.

 

Dammit!

 

“Ho-oly crap.” She panted out as she leaned over the handrail. “Almost got me that time.”

 

“C'mon. Again.” He heaved back.

 

“Out of tokens.” She grinned at him. Max glared at her, dubiousness laden throughout his eyes.

 

Bullshit. You know I'll own you next time.

 

“So?” She said as she descended the machine, making way for the next set of would-be dancers.

 

“So what?” Was his oblivious reply.

 

“You sure as hell picked that up fast.”

 

“Yyyyeah.” Trailing off, he nonchalantly looked off the side. “I guess it's not as hard as it looks.”

 

“No, I've seen amateurs spend days on that machine and still fuck up. You've got some natural talent, there.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“And If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were having fun.”

 

“No!” He instantly was on the defensive. “I'm…I'm just competitive.”

 

“Oh, come on. You weren't being competitive with all those added moves.”

 

“What `added moves'?”

 

“Uh…this?” She emulated perfectly his John Travolta-esque disco pose. “Not unless you seriously though that was going to score you extra points.” Desperation was emerging in Max's desire to save face.

 

“It doesn't? Guess I've been severely misinformed.” That earned him another punch in the shoulder.

 

“Hold tight. I'll be right back.” She turned around and pushed past the crowd. Stretching his neck a bit over the crowd to see where she was going, he saw her head into the bathrooms. Now Max was really ashamed.

 

She was jumping around with a full bladder and she still beat me? Jesus. Biting his lower lip as he saw the door to the ladies room shut after her, he turned to face the rest of the arcade dwellers, now focusing their efforts of cheering on the latest duo on the DDE machine. Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned against the vending machine near the front door, welcoming the cool breeze from outside that refreshed his sweat-tickled forehead.

 

“Nice moves.” Came a female voice. A compliment from an anonymous female would ordinarily be welcomed by Max if not for two things:

 

1: He was already on a “date” at the moment; so flirting around with other chicks would be in very poor taste.

2: The female wasn't anonymous at all. He knew that voice all too well.

 

“Thanks.” Came his dry reply as he slowly turned to face Al. “What're you doing here?” An arcade was one of the last places he would have expected to find Al. A noisy place where immature teens go to get their dose of brain-melting, insipid entertainment? No, she tended to avoid places like that like Superman would avoid the annual Kryptonite Festival.

 

“Well, I was walking by, when I saw some jackass bouncing around on that machine like he was having a violent seizure.” That was about as funny as Al ever tried to be, and obviously with a crackingly dry tone.

 

“Well, it's just my luck that thing requires no actual dancing talent.” He shrugged.

 

“Figures. I could have sworn I heard those mouth-breathers you hang around with snickering about you having a date.”

 

“If you're going to make a comment about the whole gym incident, forget it. I know the premise of this arrangement is fucked up, but I happen to be having fun.”

 

“Is that a fact?”

 

“Yeah. And for the record, quit ragging on her for being a cheerleader. She's deep.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Really.”

 

Pause.

 

“She likes the same stupid crap you do, huh?”

 

“A-yup.”

 

“Funny, though. I could have also sworn you once told me that those dancing arcade games were just a new way for nerds to make others suffer while they make asses of themselves.”

 

“Were those my exact words?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Well, I stand corrected. As it happens, it was fun.”

 

“Too bad. The fact that we both thought that thing was stupid was one of the few things we had in common.”

 

“Well, maybe I'm tired of sitting around, bitching at the world. Maybe the world isn't so bad if you were to make, God forbid, an actual attempt to LIVE in it.”

 

“I'm sure it would be. Especially seeing as how we have the actual ability to chose in which fun, cushy, rich nations we want to live in.” A strange thing then happened when Max's mouth opened up and nothing came out, besides a little bit of CO2. Not that he didn't have a ready reply, just that he became acutely aware of Kina appearing behind him. Suddenly smelling her over the zillions of other scents gave him a point five second warning before she actually spoke to him.

 

“Who's this?” Kina inquired.

 

“Oh, this is…uh, Al.” He half-heartedly introduced her.

 

“Alex.” She half-heartedly corrected.

 

“Oh!” Kina exclaimed in realization. “Right! You're that girl from gym yesterday.” Al only grunted in response. “Hey, thanks for telling us where Yamaro went off to hide.”

 

“Sure.” She shrugged. “It was nice to see you preppies get passionate about something other than football jocks or anorexia.” An understandably awkward silence followed. The physical silence was in direct contrast to the fireworks of mental screaming that was now going on in Max's head.

 

Oh, Jesus, she's going to ruin everything! Do something! Fix the tension! Do SOMETHING!

 

“HA!” Max barked out, a little too suddenly and loudly, as it startled both the girls as well as all others in the nearby vicinity. More startling still was how his left arm suddenly and roughly wrapped itself around Al's shoulders, tugging her to his side in an overly friendly gesture. “Ain't she hilarious?” He rhetorically asked, peppering his act by giving her a quick noogie with his right hand. The generally heavy-lidded gaze of Al was now wide eyed in incredulousness…and some quickly growing fury. Observing the scene, a reluctant grin and chuckle emerged from Kina. Daring to look down at his victim, Max saw her glaring at him, her eyes blazing behind her glasses with a vengeful lust rivaling that of the bloodiest wars known to man.

 

“Let go of me, or die.” Came her hissing, venomous threat.

 

“Okay, okay.” His vocal cords continued their charade in an obscenely friendly tone. “I'll tell you what, though. I'm gonna walk Kina home, and I'll see ya Monday, okay?” Before Al could mutter any obscenities or threats his way, Max quickly secured his arm around Kina's and sped the two out the door, leaving Al with an undoubtedly great deal of anger and no where to direct it.

 

If Max had at all failed to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, Kina didn't let on. Rather, she simply leaned into him a little as they headed down the street, Al quickly forgotten as Max blushed maybe just a little.

 

“So how is it that I've never seen you on one of the school's teams before?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You're a pretty big guy. And you're obviously in good shape, from what I've seen.” She motioned her head back to the arcade, where the DDE machine, probably still drenched in their sweat, was going off.

 

“Aw, well, I just like playing with my friends, usually. Besides, I can't commit to any big teams. I have to do a bunch of chores over at the shrine where I live since my great grandpa's getting too old, and my uncle Souta moved out.” At the mention of that name, a bell went off in Kina's head. That, and her remembering what Max's family name was.

 

“Souta?” She suddenly came to a halt. “Wait, as in Souta Higurashi?”

 

“Uh…yeah.”

 

“The guy who plays for the F.C. Tokyo team??”

 

“Y-y-es??” He cautiously repeated, unsure of where this was going.

 

“Oh my God! That's your uncle?.!” Her face was beaming with marvel at him now, looking as impressed as one might be if one met the third cousin twice removed of Jesus Christ. “That's amazing!”

 

“It's…pretty cool, yeah.” He admitted.

 

“Well, God, you should totally join the soccer team, then. I mean, it's in your blood!” Inwardly, Max laughed. She couldn't even begin to imagine what was in his blood.

 

But then again, neither can I.

 

“Eh. I like just playing for fun. I hate it when it gets to be all about scores, standings, and, y'know, just cutthroat.”

 

“Really?” Her excitement died down, and suddenly she seemed a little embarrassed. “Heh. Sorry. I guess you must get that from people a lot.”

 

“Well, not too much. Don't worry about it.”

 

“Well, I actually can relate. My grandmother keeps pushing me to get into the ceramics business, since that's been in the family so long.”

 

“And you don't want to?”

 

“Ugh. No. She can't seem to grasp the concept that I want to be a professional dancer. Every day, she all like `How's that European 3-turn gonna help you make a decent ashtray?'” Grinning at her impression of an old lady's voice, the two continued on down the streets of the city, chatting away about other various topics of interest, ranging from sports to video games, to annoying movie stars. The night was coming to a close now, which was a downright shame. The moon was almost full, and it shone wonderfully over the clear, star filled sky, illuminating the city. It was often blocked out by several of the city's tall buildings, but the two now stood in an area where the moonlight shone radiantly. Gazing to her side at Max, Kina was really amazed with the way his platinum hair almost seemed to glow in the pale lunar illumination. She had to admit, he was cute. Maybe not definably hot, but easily something you could show off to your girlfriends. Plus, he was funny, nice, a great conversationalist, maybe a little weird, but still…

 

“…she's a total media whore! I can't believe she's gets a humanitarian award for singing a check worth less than one percent of her total earnings!”

 

“Uh…Max?” She said, squeezing his hand a little and stopping before the bridge they were about to go under. She wanted to talk to him while the moon still glowed handsomely over him.

 

“Mm-hm?”

 

“I really had a nice time tonight.” She smiled at him.

 

Hey. Is she…

 

“I mean, I figured…well, I just felt I needed to do something for you after that whole mess yesterday.”

 

“Oh, come on. That's way past us.”

 

“Yeah, but still. I'm glad we did this. Really.” By now, the gears in Max's head were whirling in motion, trying to interpret signals.

 

Wait, what is this? Is she coming on to me? Or is she just boosting my ego before she tells me she just wants to be friends?

 

“You're a lot of fun.” Her grip on his hand tightened just a bit more as she closed the distance between their two bodies. “I'd…like to do this again sometime.”

 

HOT DIGGITY! As good an actor as Max was, there was nothing he could do to disguise the goofy looking grin on his face, thus resulting in yet another chuckle from Kina.

 

“I'd…uh, like that too.” He tried to keep his tone even in spite of his anxiety, and was, to his credit, mildly successful. Right now, he didn't seem like half the doofus he actually was. Still, she just stood there, smiling right at him. He was now wondering to himself what in the world he was supposed to do next.

 

KISS HER, YOU MORON! A deep voice within his being screamed at him angrily. Ever-so-slowly, he began craning his neck down to meet her face. When he saw that there was no hesitation in her eyes, nor any interruptive attempt, he continued on.

 

Should I close my eyes? People always close their eyes when they kiss…but what if I miss her lips? What if I accidentally kiss her nose or something? Okay, compromise: Keep eyes open until actual lip contact is made…but start closing them slowly before you get to that point. Yeah that should be about…

 

SCREEEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

 

Though process, concerns about kissing, body contact, and pretty much everything else ended abruptly when an ear-splitting noise shrieked and echoed across the landscape. Pulling apart with both of their hearts feeling like they were about to pop out of their chests, Max and Kina span around to look up at the bridge just in time to see a screeching vehicle slam hard into the railing. So hard, in fact, that while the crash did bring the car to a halt, it did still manage to break almost halfway through the rail before it came to a complete stop.

 

“CHRIST!” From whence it was in an uncertain state, Max's mind snapped into instinctive action as he grabbed Kina and yanked her away from the bridge. They weren't too close to where the railing debris fell from where they were standing, but he wouldn't dare take any risks. Plus, they had no idea if the car was going to tip over the edge as well.

 

When they were a few meters back, they looked back up at the bridge to see that the car hadn't fallen, but was damn close…it was teetering over the edge, it's nose ever so slightly pointing downward, threatening to pull the rest of its weight with it. The next thing they noticed was the fact that the driver was out cold against the wheel, probably having been knocked unconscious during the impact. However, there were screams coming from inside the car, leading to the conclusion that there was at least one other passenger.

 

“Oh my God!” Muttered Kina as she stared up in horror at the scene. It was the same for Max, who had never seen a serious accident like this before. On the bridge, several cars stopped and their drivers got out to try and do something, but there were only a small number of them. There was no way they could pull that car back up if it started going down. And it did, as it jerked a bit more foreword, the concrete edge of the bridge giving away ever so slightly. A renewed scream of terror was heard from within.

 

Max only hesitated for a brief couple of seconds as he stared between the car, Kina, and himself. If instinct was in power right now, then every bit of it was now screaming for him to go up there and pull that car back onto the bridge before it was too late. However, logical thinking was reminding him about the fact that he wasn't sure if even HE was strong enough to do that. And doing so in front of a people, such as the onlookers on the bridge, Kina, and probably several others, would mean exposing his superhuman physical capabilities.

 

Torn. He couldn't think what he could do. Someone was going to die if he didn't do something, but doing anything meant doing something that would explicitly prove, in front of several eyewitnesses, that Max Higurashi could drag cars up over the edge of a bridge with his bare hands. Maybe no one on the bridge would recognize him, but Kina certainly would. That would lead to questions, investigations, and if the authorities ever got involved, a physical exam. And a physical exam could undeniably give Max away as something other than human. God only knows exactly what would happen after that, but it couldn't possibly be good for him, or his family.

 

But none of that reasoning changed the fact that there was something inside him screaming for him to save those people. He had the capacity to do something, so shouldn't he do it?

 

Then, like a snap, something came to him. Something that might just work. Looking over at Kina, he saw that she was giving the accident her undivided attention. That gave Max the opportunity he needed to silently jump several feet away, into a ditch. It wasn't exactly much cover, but it did the trick. Free of any remaining hesitation, he snapped the crystal necklace off of him, reverting him to his fully demonic appearance. Wasting not much more time, he took off his jacket, shoes and shirt with maddening speed.

 

*******

 

One Hour Later

 

The night had gone almost perfectly. Seeing as how Souta was a regular at the restaurant, the staff had indulged in his special requests for the best table, violin music, and some fabulous champagne. He had every intention of wining and dining her to her utmost satisfaction. He had to get her in as good a mood as possible before this moment came. And he was certain that he had been successful. She was beaming, beautiful, everything he could have hoped. Everything had been perfect, and yet still he was insanely nervous on the inside. They'd had the dinner, they had the pleasant conversations, and now the critical moment was approaching. Part of him dreaded it, part of him was exited, and all of him was anxious. As she finished her lobster, Souta looked over at the bar behind her, where the bartender, wise to his plans, gave Souta an encouraging thumbs up. Souta nodded back at him. It was time.

 

“Asaki?” He said following a deep breath.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I…I love you.” She grinned back at him.

 

“And I love you too.”

 

“Good. I'm glad.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh…never really thought I would be this happy with someone. I mean, I've had a lot of girlfrien…” he suddenly caught himself and cleared his throat again. “…that is, experiences with romance, and I always came up shorter than I was hoping. Honestly, I was losing hope before you came along.”

 

“Souta what…?”

 

“Just, just hold on. You're something really special, Asaki. You're one in a million…hell, billion, and I do not ever want to lose you and never find you again in that massive sea of people out in the world. You do things for me I didn't even think were possible before I met you.”

 

“Why are you…Souta?” By now, he had gathered every bit of confidence he needed. Without any fear, he went on.

 

“I want to spend the rest of my life you. I want you to be the mother of my children, and I want to be the father or yours. I want every bit of happiness out of life, and that means having you there by my side. And if you are there, Asaki, I will dedicate myself to your happiness as well.” Asaki was staring at him wide eyed. Taking another deep breath, Souta reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a ring case. Instantly she gasped, her hands covering her mouth, tears beginning to form at the edges of her eyes. “Asaki,” He said in an extremely clear, serious voice. “Will you do me the honor of being my…HOLY FUCK!!!!!”

 

The ring case was dropped out of his hands and into the tomato soup as Souta jumped out of his chair, scaring the hell out of Asaki and about every patron in the restaurant.

 

“What is it?” She yelped incredulously as Souta was staring wide-eyed in the direction of the bar as though he'd seen a ghost. But her question was completely ignored, as he suddenly marched over to the bar, with everyone in the place staring at him like a head case. Coming to a halt in front of the small television over the bar's counter, he continued staring at it for several moments, with everyone in the place too unsure and confused to see what on earth was wrong with the soccer star. After several dozen seconds of glaring slack-jawed at the television, Souta pulled out his cell phone, his eyes never leaving the screen.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Mom?”

 

“Oh, hello, Souta? How's everything?”

 

“Mom, are you at home right now?”

 

“Yes. Why?”

 

“Turn on the television. Channel eight.”

 

“Wh…uh, Okay.” A few moments passed while he heard Sakura on the other end going from whatever room she'd been in to the den and turning on the TV. “Oh my GOD.” Came a horrified remark over the phone.

 

“S-souta?” Asaki had finally come along and was now standing beside him. “Honey, what's wrong?” When he didn't answer, she looked over at the screen he was staring so intensely at. It was some sort of news report, and by the looks of the shaky camera, was amateur footage. What she saw was…surprising, but not nearly enough to merit his reaction, in her judgment. It was what looked like a shirtless man on a bridge…

 

…looking again, she realized that wasn't a man.…not exactly. Rather, it was a bizarre looking humanoid with what appeared to be a big, poofy tail, pointy ears, and strange markings on his face.

 

The footage was on a loop, and when it went back to the beginning and showed the whole incident over again, she found good reason to gasp. It showed a car tipping over the side of a damaged bridge, about to plummet downwards before a horrified crowd. The crowd then turned mystified, however, when whatever that tailed person was jumped down from off camera, sunk its clawed hands into rear bumper, and pulled it back onto the bridge. Bare handedly dragged a fucking car back onto the edge of the bridge.

 

“…Holy fuck.” She finally agreed.

 

End Chapter 4

 

*********

 

A/N: I should note that I added in the quasi-masturbation scene quite gratuitously. It's one of those really odd things where it does zero to advance the plot, but I just wanted to do it anyway.

 

Then again, maybe I was also annoyed by this chapter, because I more so felt it was something I had to write as a setup for the next chapter, in which the real meat of the whole story starts to emerge. Despite that I had some problems with this portion, I still went over it about a dozen times to make sure it was to my satisfaction. So I wanted to add in some pointless stupidity just to fun it up some. But to be honest, I'm still feel iffy about it. So, as usual, I really want to know what you guys thought.

 

The responses I've gotten so far all seem pretty positive and constructively critical, which is great. There are a lot of questions about Max, his parentage, and what happened to the old Inuyasha cast… rest assured, these will be answered, but only as Max himself finds them out. (And he will.) Sorry, no thpoilers.

 

Oh, and finally, footnotes:

 

Zucker: One of the pioneers of Laughaminute comedy genres.

Jack Campbell: The man who sort of invented cheerleading.

FC Tokyo: One of Tokyo's pro soccer teams.

 

Stay cool, baby,

 

Koday.