Just Guy Stuff
Summary: The Pervert and the Tough Guy. Personas that keep them sane. It's not easy for our boys to drop their masks, but when your brother's in trouble, well, even Inuyasha can be vulnerable for a few minutes to help his friend out. Inuyasha & Miroku friendship fic.
Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the InuYasha universe, nor the rights to any of the affiliated merchandise or creative works thereof, nor do I profit from this work produced here.
A/N: As a note: Inuyasha's getting flustered during his talk with Kagome is not at all meant to be a jab towards anyone; I'm just trying to write in character. I'll be happy to discuss my opinions on the matter in a PM, but as far as the story goes I just wanted to establish the relationship as purely friendship.
Warnings: cursing.
犬夜叉
Inuyasha was not a man known for his apologies, or for admitting that he was wrong. It just wasn't his way. He had his pride, and dammit, he was gonna keep it; after all, for a long time, he hadn't had much else.
Although in this case, he was willing to make an exception.
He had to admit, the hanyou mused as he watched his kasaya-robed friend carry over a gathered bundle of sticks to make their noonday fire, his first impressions of the monk had been dead wrong. Well, not entirely– Miroku was still a conman, and absolutely still a lecher. But even with that last, Inuyasha was pretty sure that Miroku's debauchery was just a way for the monk to distract himself. After all, he thought absently to himself, if I had the sort of doom hangin' over my head that he does, I'd probably have a couple'a "unsavory" habits, too. And for all his faults, Miroku didn't much approve of drunkenness– probably from growing up with an incurable alcoholic, the hanyou reasoned– so women it would be.
Either way, Miroku wasn't just a lecher, and Inuyasha would go so far as to say that his good traits far outweighed his bad ones. The monk was a damn good fighter, quick on his feet and stronger than he looked. He took pain like a man and usually gave back as good as he got, circumstances permitting, and never ran from a fight if his friends were in danger. On top of that, when he actually bothered to employ his spiritual powers, Inuyasha grudgingly had to admit that he was a good exorcist (a fact evinced by the unpleasant little jolt the half-demon got whenever he accidentally touched one of the monk's inactive sutras. Shippo, after having gotten blasted back three feet and his hair and fingertips singed after curiously poking one, wisely avoided them like the plague.)
Moreover, as far as personality went, even the wary hanyou couldn't help but like the guy. Miroku was smart, good-natured, and loyal to a fault when it came to the important stuff. He was also a great leader. Inuyasha wasn't stupid; sure, he might be the one to take charge during battle, but when it came to anything that required long-term planning, such as where to go on their travels or a strategic infiltration, Miroku inevitably had the last word. To be honest, the hanyou was relieved; he'd spent so many years trying to figure out where to go and what to do that having someone to follow was a weight off his shoulders. And aside from all that, the monk was a pretty decent guy, always up for a good time and (not that Inuyasha would ever admit it) good at getting his half-demon companion out of a sullen mood.
Apparently his appreciation for the monk hadn't gone unnoticed, for some time previous Kagome had mentioned it while doing the group's washing down by the river:
"So, you and Miroku have really hit it off, huh?"
"Hn?" The hanyou glanced over from where he was lying down against the hill. "Oh, yeah, sure. He's a great guy."
"I'm glad. I didn't think you two were going to get along at first, so it's nice to see you being so affectionate!"
Inuyasha immediately sat up, face pinking. "Oy, don't say it like that!"
"Eh? Like what?"
"Like– that! It sounds– it just–"
Kagome looked back, startled, and then began giggling at his flustered expression. "Oh, Inuyasha!"
Inuyasha scowled, sure he was being made fun of. "What're you laughing at?"
"All I meant is that you're friends!" She smiled and added: "When I said affectionate, I meant the way Sango and I are. You know– like brothers-in-arms."
"Keh. Whatever." Still, Inuyasha had liked the idea. He had no idea how brothers were supposed to act (seeing as how Sesshomaru was such an insufferable ass), but he thought that maybe Miroku's practical joking (and occasional imparting of wise advice) was the sort of thing brothers did. It was nice, he'd decided. He'd never really had friends before, and as much as he liked Kagome and Sango, there were some things you just couldn't talk about to girls. (Or to kids. Shippo was a decent kit, but he had the attention span of a freakin' butterfly.)
As a result, he and Miroku had ended up spending a good amount of time together, and had gotten to know each other pretty well. Which was why Inuyasha was able to notice the moment something went wrong.
It happened just as Miroku was helping Shippo light the fire. The kit had screwed up his little face, frowning at the twigs as he summoned his foxfire and cast it at the wood. Just as he did so, Inuyasha's heightened senses picked up a sudden hissing, and some of the flame was drawn away from the fire and towards either side of Miroku's purple gauntlet.
The monk immediately yanked his hand back and pressed it into his stomach, face paling like a sheet. Shippo was looking at him, startled; no doubt he, too, had heard the sudden gust of unnatural wind on the still spring day. Inuyasha glanced over to where Sango and Kagome were preparing the fish; neither had looked over, still chatting and laughing as they worked, their weak human hearing having kept them blissfully ignorant.
"Miroku?" Shippo inquired nervously, but the monk merely cleared his throat and stood.
"Nature's calling," he said quickly, with a very fake smile. "Back in a bit."
He walked off towards the nearby forest and disappeared into the trees. Inuyasha watched him go, a worried frown creasing his brow. Something wasn't right.
"I'm gonna go look for mushrooms," he announced to the girls. "Saw a patch back along the road that were edible."
"Don't take too long," Kagome called over her shoulder. "The fire will be hot enough to cook with soon!"
"Keh." Too mentally preoccupied to come up with a better answer, the hanyou headed off in a slightly different direction than Miroku so as not to worry the girls. Once he was safely out of sight, he switched direction, following his nose as he searched for the monk.
It didn't take him long to find him, but when he did, Inuyasha stopped short in surprise.
Miroku was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a small clearing, staring at his right hand. That wasn't particularly unusual; the unusual part of it was that his hand wasn't covered. The beads were still in place, their spiritual power saturating the wind tunnel's devouring hunger, but the purple gauntlet had been untied from its ring and pulled back.
Inuyasha watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Miroku gently prodded the edge of the wind tunnel with his left-hand fingers, as if testing to make sure it hadn't split open anywhere along the sides. Then, almost as if in a trance, the monk carefully pushed aside the beads just enough to reach his fingers into the abyss.
The hanyou had seen a lot of guts and gore in his day, but somehow seeing those three fingers vanish without pushing through the other side of Miroku's hand was enough to make him turn and dry-heave into the undergrowth. Thankfully nothing came up, but by the time he was able to stifle the nausea, Miroku had noticed. Horrified, the monk quickly redid the ties of his purple gauntlet and clenched his fist shut, watching his friend with thinly veiled fear.
Inuyasha looked back, unsure what to say; he wasn't really good with this stuff. The first thing that came to his mind, and therefore his mouth, was: "Bloody hell, Miroku, what the fuck are you doing?"
The monk stammered wordlessly for several seconds until he managed to come up with the altogether unsatisfactory answer of: "I-I'm fine."
"The hell you are." Inuyasha paced forward and sat down opposite the monk, glaring at him until Miroku dropped his gaze. "It's the wind tunnel, ain't it? Some of it got past the beads?"
The monk was silent for a long moment, and then nodded.
"You think they're gonna hold?"
"Oh, they'll hold," the monk said, with a very strange, humorless laugh. "Don't worry, I'd be long gone by now if I thought there was any chance they wouldn't."
Inuyasha nodded. He opened his mouth to ask something and then shut it again.
"I don't know," Miroku replied dully. Inuyasha started.
"Huh?"
"That's what you were going to ask, wasn't it? How long I've got?"
"U-uh–"
"Well, I don't know. It could be a few years, it could be a few months, but that's the best answer I've got and I'm sorry, but if it's good enough for me it'd damn well better be good enough for you!"
Inuyasha just blinked, baffled and startled. Miroku seemed to realize what he'd said and quickly shut his mouth, looking away. Neither spoke.
Wind. Chirping birds.
"…Fuck," the half-demon muttered at last. "You're really not okay, are you?"
Another moment of silence, and then Miroku shook his head, eyes on the ground.
"…Is there anythin' I can, y'know…?"
"Do?" The monk let out a choked laugh. "Thank you, Inuyasha, but believe me when I say that there's nothing anyone can do." He looked down at his hand with a lost darkness in his indigo eyes, and for the first time, the hanyou realized just how young the man in front of him really was.
He's just eighteen, barely older than me. He's just a kid. Fuck, we're all just kids…
It was unfair, the hanyou thought bitterly, this whole fucking situation was unfair. He voiced as much to Miroku, who laughed that unhappy laugh again and nodded.
"Sometimes, Inuyasha," Miroku muttered, "sometimes I wish there were… something else."
"Something else?"
"Something– higher. Not the gods; even the gods die. But something else, something real."
The hanyou stared at the monk, confused and not a little worried. He'd never heard Miroku talk like this.
"I know I'm a monk," Miroku continued, still in that strange, hoarse half-whisper, as if he could only admit this low enough that the sky couldn't hear. "I know I should– should be seeking nirvana. But I'm terrified." His cursed hand clenched into an even tighter fist. "Inuyasha, I've found nirvana. It's here, in my hand. It's nothingness and loneliness and cessation and– and I know, I know it's my attachment to self that makes me so damn terrified, but I can't help it, dammit, I want to live! Is that such a sin, to want to live?!"
He broke down at that– not into tears, never that, but one sharp gasp like a man who'd gotten his head above water for an instant. His face, his hands, even his neck was filled with a muscle-aching tension, jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck standing out like iron cords beneath his pale skin. "I'm sorry," he said abruptly, tersely, eyes still fixed with a feverish gleam on something the hanyou couldn't see. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He made to stand, wanting to get out, away back to the girls where he had an obligation to pretend everything was okay– but then, a voice stopped him:
"I wanna live too."
Miroku looked back, startled. Inuyasha was watching him, and for the first time, the monk realized that he wasn't the only one wearing a mask. The half-demon's golden eyes were wide, and afraid.
"And I'm scared," Inuyasha said, standing to look him in the eyes. "I'm scared, Miroku, I'm scared as shit because I know that bastard's coming for me, and Kagome, and you and Sango and even little Shippo and– and I can't lose anyone else, I can't."
"Inuyasha…"
"And I can't promise you that it's all gonna be okay," the hanyou continued, "because I don't know that it will. But– but for what it's worth, we're all scared. I know Kagome's scared because she's been practicing her shooting every day, she never used to do that; I know Sango's scared because I hear her crying at night when she thinks no one's awake; and I know Shippo's scared because he prays at every Inari shrine we stop by, every single one."
Miroku felt guilt churn in his stomach. "I know. I'm sorry, Inuyasha, I didn't mean to imply– I know I haven't got it any worse than anyone else–"
"Wh– shit, no, that's not what I meant. Agh." The half-demon sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair, trying to find the right words. "What I meant is– is you're not alone. We're all here, stuck in this together, and you're– you're not alone, okay? We're still here with you. Y'haven't hit nirvana yet."
Not yet. A strange rush of calm swept through Miroku at that; he suddenly saw and heard everything again– the green dappled light shining through the trees, the chirping of unseen birds hidden in the branches. He was still here, still alive, still standing in this forest speaking to his best friend. He hadn't been pulled into the void. Not yet. Not yet.
It wasn't the sort of thing that needed any further discussion; Inuyasha saw the black panic leave his friend's eyes, and he stepped forward, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Y'okay now?"
Miroku nodded wordlessly; without needing to ask, the two pulled each other in and embraced like brothers. A shuddering breath escaped the monk, and Inuyasha clapped him on the back, stepping away. Miroku gave him a wry smile.
"Thank you. For pulling me back from the edge, I mean."
"Just don't think you gotta carry that all yourself, a'right?" Inuyasha said sincerely, a little pink at the cheeks– he didn't do emotions well, but Miroku understood and nodded. "C'mon. Kagome's making ramen; I can smell it from here."
They walked back together, making light conversation in place of their ordinary silence, aware that each needed a chance to forget the dark thoughts that could so easily consume them.
They were laughing by the time they got back to the camp– their chuckles a little forced, perhaps, but still present. Kagome and Sango looked up at them surprised. "What were you two talking about in there?" Sango demanded, eying the monk suspiciously.
Inuyasha and Miroku glanced at each other. Miroku's eyes had gone wide and nervous; it was clear to the hanyou that he wasn't prepared to answer any questions.
So Inuyasha merely shrugged and replied, "Eh, you know." He walked over to the bubbling pot of noodles and added breezily:
"Just guy stuff."
A/N: So what did you guys think? I really wanted to write a oneshot on the friendship between Miroku and Inuyasha, because I think it's a really cool aspect of the series that doesn't get enough attention. I'm (spoiler alert) not a guy, so I have no idea if I wrote this right as to how two men would interact, but I think I was pretty close.
Please review!
