Inu Yasha sat on the bar and listened to Shunusuke’s band rehearse songs that were very loud, sometimes screechy, but usually had a good beat to them. He had Shunusuke’s acoustic guitar in his lap and while the band played, he picked out the melody, echoing it back in tones that weren’t quite so painful to his sensitive ears. Shunusuke had given him little rubber earplugs, but they were designed for human ears and were too small for his canine ones. Anyway, they were uncomfortable, so he just kept his ears laid back and dealt with it. He rather liked playing the guitar, if only those other instruments weren’t so loud that he couldn’t hear it’s sweet, rich voice as he plucked the strings. Even the presence of a pack of young, cute, female groupies that gathered to whisper and giggle and blush didn’t embarrass his fingers into silence. Though he found it a bit distracting when the girls started swiveling their hips and shimmying to the music. Yup, dancing in Kagome’s time was definitely more entertaining than dancing in his time (though he figured the girls’ parents would be appalled if they could see how sexy they were acting around a bunch of strange men and a demon).
        As the rehearsal continued, Inu Yasha experimented with chords, watching the musicians play them, then mimicking what their hands did. Two hours later, he was able to play three songs in their entirety (the names of which he learned from the band): "Eight Miles High" (The Byrds), "Hard Day’s Night" (The Beatles) and "Incense and Peppermints" (Strawberry Alarm Clock—he had to have that name explained to him, and it still made no sense). He also found he could repeat most of the words he thought Shunusuke was singing, though he had no earthly idea what they meant. To him, they were just sounds. This trick amazed band and groupies alike, who tried very hard to convince Inu Yasha to try his hand at singing. They would’ve learned the high price of pissing off a guy with demon blood in him if Shunusuke hadn’t been able to calm him down before the ol’ Claws of Steel came out to play.
        Rehearsal completed, the lads put away their instruments and nicked off for a bite to eat in one of the hotel’s more casual eateries. The little a la carte café was on the other end of the back veranda from the place where Inu Yasha had endured breakfast with Hisui and her crowd the previous day. It offered simple food like ramen, rice balls, potato buns and a selection of chilled fruit balls and cold drinks (along with certain items Inu Yasha suspected were foreign). As they sat down at a table close to the beach to eat, the band tried to explain the Beatles phenomenon to Inu Yasha, who failed to understand how a group of musicians could have that big of a social impact on people all over the world. Nor did he get why a bunch of guys from England needed a guru from India, which was nowhere near England.
        "They were musicians!" Inu Yasha argued for the tenth time and almost busted a chopstick clenching his fists with aggravation. "They wrote songs and shit! Didn’t people have anybody better to follow? I thought you said they were fucked up on drugs most of the time?"
        The drummer, Tetsu, sighed and replied very patiently: "You gotta understand the way things were back then. It was all about youth and rebellion, and these guys embodied that spirit. They had long hair and mod clothes when kids were expected to wear their hair short and neat and to dress up like they were going to some kind of fancy dinner party if they were going to perform on stage. They sang about dancing and girls at first, when they were just simply popular, then they starting singing and talking about the injustices in the world and other political issues that the previous generation, the people in power, seemed to be ignoring or even encouraging. I’m talking about in America and Europe, mostly, especially in America, where there were student protests and riots against this war their country was involved in in Vietnam and against separating blacks and whites—"
        "Black and white what?" Inu Yasha interrupted.
        "People," Atsuro the bassist explained. "See, in America, they used to have separate bathrooms and schools and everything for people who didn’t have white skin—"
        "Did black people have a disease white people thought they’d get?" Inu Yasha interrupted again.
        Atsuro shook his head. "No. They used to be slaves a hundred years ago, so maybe that’s it. They’re a minority group, so they got persecuted."
        Inu Yasha soaked it all in, fascinated by the strange ways of foreigners who lived in a country that didn’t even exist in his time. "So, these kids in America…they could tell their government what to do, and the government just did it?"
        Masato, the rhythm guitar and keyboard player, fielded that one. "No way! The government sent the National Guard against them with tear gas and police dogs and dragged them off to jail, even though the students had a right to protest by law. It was worse with the racial demonstrations. Black people got sprayed with fire hoses—high powered jets of water—and beat up with clubs and attacked by dogs. We read about it in school. It was a scary time over there." He grinned. "I’m glad I wasn’t born yet."
        "And didn’t live in America," Tetsu added with a wry smirk. He turned to Inu Yasha and added: "We didn’t go through that kind of upheaval here. It was just them, since they had that race problem and a war only the government really seemed to want to be involved in."
        Inu Yasha took a pull off his soda. "So who won?"
        "The war or the race thing?" Tetsu asked.
        "Both."
        They had to think about that one. Finally, Shunusuke replied: "I know they lost the war…sort of. The Americans pulled out without achieving their goal of driving the Communists out of South Vietnam. As for the racial problem: It still exists, it’s just illegal to discriminate against people. So I guess you could say it’s not institutionalized, but it’s still a part of their society."
        They ate in silence for a few minutes and watched girls in bikinis sunbathe, play, walk and whatever else they chose to do as long as they did it wearing bikinis. With his eyes still on the parade of titillating female flesh, Inu Yasha asked: "And the Beatles were involved in all that…how?"
        "They wrote songs about how injustice is bad and somebody really should do something about it," Atsuro replied offhandedly, being more interested in girls than social commentary just then.
        "And did lots of drugs," Tetsu added.
        "And had a guru," said Masato.
        "And great clothes," added Shunusuke.
        To which Inu Yasha replied: "If gaijin are so confusing, why is everybody trying to be like them?"
        "We’re not," Shunusuke argued.
        "Yes you are!"
        "No we’re not!"
        Tetsu suddenly exclaimed: "Her top just came off!"
        "WHERE?!"
        End of discussion.

        Yuki, Kagome and Sango had just put a second load of shopping bags into the trunk of Yuki’s BMW and slammed it shut when Yuki paused and looked around. Lots of ordinary humans walking along the busy sidewalks and in and out of buildings. Traffic filled the street, both motorized and pedal powered. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, and yet…
        Sango and Kagome also looked around. Sango murmured in Yuki’s ear: "You feel it, too?"
        Yuki nodded.
        "Feel what?" Kagome asked but she had a feeling what the problem was even before Sango said it.
        "We’re being followed," the demon hunter told her. "I sensed it about a half hour ago, right after we left the ice cream vendor."
        Yuki nodded, still looking around suspiciously. "Feels youkai to me." Sango nodded her agreement. "Confident, too, since we’re acting like we know something’s wrong and they’re still hanging about."
        "You can see them?" Kagome asked, moving closer to the other girls. Her hand went instinctively to the big jewel shard about her neck. Whoever they were, Kagome was sure Hisui or Mikoto had sent them to try and get her shard. Unless, of course, it was just Inu Yasha being his usual jealous self and trying to make sure she wasn’t secretly meeting another boy, or something. Her blood started to boil at that thought. Wouldn’t that be just like him?
        Yuki clicked a button on her keychain to unlock the car doors, then went around to the driver’s side and got in, motioning for the other girls to get in the car, too. As they pulled away from the curb and headed out of the city, Sango looked out the back window to see if anyone had followed. A black Mercedes pulled out of a spot across the street from the one they’d just left and blended into traffic two cars behind them. Before the other cars blocked her view, Sango got a look at the driver. He looked human to her. She didn’t get a good look at his passenger, except to note that it was a man. "I think our tail is in that car two back from ours," she report to Yuki, who nodded.
        "I think you’re right," she said, glancing into the side mirror. She got the briefest look at the driver and cursed under her breath. "That looks like Tsurai. Shit."
        Kagome’s heart sank. "So much for stopping by my house before going back to the beach." Not that she’d really thought they could go there without being followed or seen by whatever spies Hisui had watching the house (if she wasn’t merely bluffing about that). She tried to see the other car in her side mirror, but couldn’t. "Oh well, at least we got to have some fun before he showed up, right?"
        Yuki wasn’t so sure he hadn’t been there all along. She knew Tsurai. If he didn’t want to be noticed, he could hide from even Shunusuke. It was more likely the kitsune had simply chosen that moment to let them know he was there to subtly encourage her to quit spending her father’s money. Wait till Daddy found out he’d bought Inu Yasha a new wardrobe, too. Yuki smirked at that thought. Served him right. Of course, she’d probably get what she deserved as soon as he got his next credit card statement. Hm. Maybe Sango didn’t actually need a pair of - 37, 000 designer boots with a matching - 22, 000 handbag… (By the way, that works out to about $300 and $200 USD, respectively. ~qos)
        Later, Tsurai reported to his master over a cup of tea that Yuki had spent an entire morning buying things in Tokyo’s hippest retro and designer boutiques, snack shops, music stores and book shops. He reported an estimated tab that made Mikoto choke on his tea.
        As he dug up his migraine medication, Mikoto snarled: "Why in the hell does a girl who lives in feudal Japan need a - 160, 000 designer ensemble?!"

        While Mikoto was having a cow over his daughter’s spending habits (wouldn’t be so bad if the little freeloader would just get a job), the girls were showing off their purchases to the guys and having fun playing fashion show with Miroku and Shippo.
        "Oh, yeah," Yuki declared as Miroku turned in the middle of the living room floor for her approval, "that suit is so you. I love it. Doesn’t he look great, girls?"
        Kagome and Sango looked at each other and gulped. If they agreed with her, Miroku might get the wrong idea and try to pat their butts again as soon as the opportunity presented itself. On the other hand, if they didn’t agree, that would be mean, and the poor priest looked nothing short of dubious about the strange clothes Yuki had chosen for him. Kagome decided be honest: "I like it. Sango?"
        "Uh-huh," the demon hunter nodded and tried to look sincere, "me, too."
        Miroku’s face fell. "You think I look silly, don’t you?"
        Kagome and Sango shook their heads vehemently. "Uh-uh," Kagome assured him, "we’re just afraid you’ll get the wrong idea if we tell you how good you look."
        Sango crossed her arms and gave him a warning glare. "We don’t want to get groped again because you misconstrued our compliments as permission."
        The priest looked shocked. "Me? I would never do such a thing. Anyway, I already have a companion for the evening." He wrapped his arm around Yuki’s waist and grinned when she rewarded him with a pat on the butt.
        Kagome and Sango exchanged looks again, and Sango groaned: "Ye gods, they’re two of a kind."