Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Takahashi Rumiko.

Debtor's Prison

"You should be thanking me, you know."

Miroku didn't even pause for a moment to consider that before drawling, "Oh yes, of course I should. Why not? Next I'll be thanking you for trying to send countless dangerous – and dare I add homicidal – youkai after me. Oh thank you. Oh mighty one. How shall I ever repay you? Now the only matter is if you would you like that all in writing, or would a verbal confirmation do?"

The strike echoed through the forest, and Miroku wondered through a throbbing cheek if Inuyasha might have heard that. Those dog ears had to be good for something, damn it, and he was of the school of thought that he was quite important. Perhaps he wouldn't go so far as to say that he was the center of the universe – although the more intelligent people realized this right off the bat – but he did like to think that the others might have noticed his unhappy disappearance and were doing something about it.

Unfortunately, knowing Inuyasha, he was probably too busy whining to give much thought to a 'friend's' disappearance, leaving him to the non-existent mercy of the bloodthirsty and mildly dangerous hanyou who was now smiling at him.

It was one of those tight-lipped smiles that pretty much informed the viewer that he was alive only because of the smiler's good will, and that good will was remarkably fickle. Which was something that Miroku already knew, but it didn't stop him from being a smart ass. After all, if he backed down now, then what? He was still going to die, so at least he should try to get something out of the entire situation. Granted, he didn't really know what he was trying to get right now, but he was sure that something would come up sooner or later.

He would prefer later than sooner, especially since he had a feeling that Naraku was the type of person who indulged in a delicious variety of tortures when he was annoyed. But that was just a feeling, of course.

"That kazaana has saved your life countless times. For something that you are so frightened by, you really do seem to depend on it," the hanyou continued in a rather patronizing tone of voice. The monk – because no matter how perverted, corrupted, and pretty as much un-monkish as one could possibly get, he still was a servant of Buddha – quirked an eyebrow, not quite sure if Naraku was actually being serious. His expression said that he was. Unfortunately, his words were giving Miroku a suicidal urge to burst out laughing.

"Well, I've never backed away from using something if it's there," the monk replied in an almost cheerful tone. It might have passed if it hadn't reached such a high pitch towards the end, although he was pretty much beyond the point of caring. Besides, Naraku probably already knew that he was of the mind to dig a hole to crawl into for a very, very long period of time.

Of course, the hole Naraku probably had in mind was a grave plot, and that very, very long period of time probably extended to eternity. Unless the half-demon decided to just throw his corpse to the animals, which sounded pretty in-character for the psychopath.

"So I see," Naraku smirked slightly. He would have been better off saying, 'So I hear' in Miroku's lowly opinion, but if there was one thing he figured, it was that Naraku didn't need any more advice to being a complete asshole, seeing that he had already mastered the whole art of it anyway. "One might think that you're almost in debt to me then."

"Considering this hell-hole in my hand is going to suck me up one day, I don't think I need to thank you for anything. And if you're concerned about my usage of it, or whatever imaginary 'debt' I may have racked up in the process, you shouldn't have cursed my family with it in the first place."

Naraku leaned in close, and if his hands hadn't been so pleasantly tied behind his back, he would have shoved him away. Or tried to destroy him with that blasted kazaana that the hanyou was apparently so proud of. Or, at the very least, hit him over the head with his staff – except that was now out of range, but there were some useful sticks lying around. In fact, there were a lot of things he wished he could do but couldn't, so the only thing he could sit there and wonder if this was some type of divine retribution for all those times he had groped women.

Sango would agree, anyway. Well, if she was able to save her anger long enough to notice what was happening, rather than immediately running over to stab Naraku right through one of his blue eyeliner shaded eyes. Which was relatively unlikely, now that he thought of it, and he was perfectly happy with thinking about it because it prevented him from having to deal with the rather unpleasant sight that was right before him.

Inevitably though, he would have to deal with it. If only because Naraku's breath stunk.

"You shouldn't have gotten in my way then."

Naraku was too close. Really, really close. And this was inspiring a sensation in the houshi, one that was commonly associated with closely impending doom.

"Are we talking about you as in my grandfather, or you as in me?" he managed to get out. It came out more like a squeak than anything, but he did manage to get it out. Really, for a guy who looked sickly and half-dead, Naraku was rather scary when he got close-up. There was just some type of atmosphere around him, one of the same sickness and death that his pallor suggested. It may have been laughable from a distance, especially with that idiotic baboon skin, but up close it was disturbing and more importantly, dangerous.

Miroku happened to be one of those pragmatic types of people who didn't like dangerous situations. Which was really too bad considering how often he was involved in one of those said dangerous situations, but more often than not, he tried to avoid them. Therefore it was of no surprise that his mind was screaming at him to get away while he still had all his limbs attached, and he would have listened if it wasn't for the fact that all his limbs were currently tied up, making escape a possibility left unexplored.

"Both, I should say," Naraku replied, finally drawing back enough so that the monk would stop squirming so nervously. It was laughable, really, and very amusing. He'd had many people – youkai, hanyou, and human – try to talk their way out of sticky situations, and he'd had many more who just broke apart within seconds. But not often did they do both, and contradictory as they were, it made him look almost idiotic.

But amusing.

"Ah, well. In his defense I'd say that my grandfather was merely trying to save the world, and as for me I'd say that I didn't have much of a choice in this whole matter anyway. But you don't really seem to care about those types of things anyway."

"Mm, no."

Naraku wasn't giving him the tight-lipped smile. He was giving now him the out-right psychotically quiet smile, and Miroku was twitching with enough nervous energy to make an entire army throw down their arms and run for the hills while singing 'walla walla walla'.

"Yes, well. Nice to know we've established that." And there was that high-pitch shriek again. Honestly, couldn't he have some dignity left? Granted, nobody was around anyway to witness this humiliation except Naraku, but the bastard would probably spread the story from this world to Kagome-sama's present time in a heartbeat. And then Inuyasha would laugh. A lot. Quite heartily too. Before trying to kill the other hanyou.

"Then there is still the debt to be paid," Naraku concluded. Miroku laughed nervously, although right now, there wasn't really any other way to laugh. Except not to laugh. Too bad his brain wasn't picking up that point.

"Well, since you're not listening to me, you could believe that," he conceded. Although he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Naraku was leaning in close again. And although he had already been leaning in much too closely the last time, somehow he managed to get in even closer. This was not something Miroku appreciated. Really, it wasn't, and he wondered if…

… if perhaps he was suicidal enough to bite down on Naraku's tongue, which was now quite happily trying to shove its way down his throat.

May or may not be continued, depending on present levels of insanity. Which are relatively high, if one chooses to take this story into consideration.