Miroku: That's it, it's official.  You are cracked, woman.

Sesshy: You're only now figuring that out?

LL: Shut up you two.  Inu-Yasha's almost on.  It's a good thing that they finally put it back on, even if they are replaying old eps.

B0b: Beginning to rethink those Chinese assassins that you sent after the Adult Swim people?

LL: Oh shit … I forgot about them…

Disclaimer: No one is mine *sniffles*  Takahashi-sama is being very hard to bribe…

To Fly Free

Fury ripped though his veins as the monk crashed blindly through the undergrowth of Inu-Yasha's forest.  Miroku didn't bother to try to keep quiet, in fact, he almost dared a demon to come after him; he needed something to vent his anger on.  Fury was the only thing he allowed himself to feel at the moment.  It dulled the stinging pain across his head and the throb in his soul.  Dully, he realized that the sticky feeling on his left cheek was blood dripping down from his temple, but he ignored it and plunged forward, getting as far away from the village – and the source of his anger – as possible.  Swinging his staff at a stray branch angrily, the monk recalled the events of the past few hours.

Inu-Yasha had struck him, a blow that was still ringing in his ears.  And worst of all, he had struck him for something that he didn't even do.

"As if I would rape…" he snarled quietly to himself, not stopping in his relentless press forward and his abuse of the surrounding foliage.  Inu-Yasha would have never done such a thing before Kagome … but he didn't want to think of Kagome, or Inu-Yasha, or Sango who had stood quietly by while he'd been beaten by that fucking half-breed.

This was the reason why he preferred to travel alone, Miroku reminded himself sourly.  No one understood him; no one bothered to look past his cheerful, perverted façade to see the real Miroku.  And most likely, no one cared.

He was trapped.  Locked in a cage of his own making.  Barred by his fears and regrets.  And yet, his cage was invisible to all, gilded by his smiles.  There was no one who he could turn to for assistance, for no one was able to see that he was in trouble.  So he had lived his lonely life imprisoned, unwilling to call out for help and unable to forge a key.

Finally the monk collapsed to the forest floor, exhausted.  Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he finally gave in to the myriad of emotions that he had tried to keep at bay.  They swept him up like a raging river, pummeling him mercilessly as they dragged him farther and farther away from sanity.  Soon, he would drown.  So the monk did the only thing he could, he ran.

Tired feet carried him deeper into the forest, even as his body screamed out for rest.  But he couldn't stop now; he didn't want to stop.  Unfortunately for his tortured mind, the demands of his body came first, and he stumbled for about twenty feet before he collapsed in a small clearing.

It took him a full three minutes to realize he wasn't alone.

Kagura.  They had fought more than once, but in truth, Miroku was surprised that he even remembered her name.  For that matter, he was surprised that he even recognized her, considering the state she was in.

He vaguely recalled the flawless visage of the wind demon that had never wavered in all their encounters.  However, this time, her porcelain beauty was smeared all over the forest floor, literally.  The monk had never seen anyone so beaten up.  Scratch that.  He had never seen anyone so beaten up and still alive.  But if he looked hard enough, her chest rose, just barely, as she struggled to breathe.  Blood poured freely from her various wounds, to be sucked up by the greedy earth.

Miroku's kinder nature took over, and despite his exhaustion, he crawled over to the demon, stripping his purple over robe as he went.  Taking out a small dagger, he began to shred the thing into long strips to use for bandages.  One large piece turned into a handkerchief that he began to use to blot away the excess blood.

If at all possible, Kagura looked worse when he had cleaned her wounds enough to see the damage.  Before he could begin to attempt to bandage the various gashes that she sported, however, the demon's eyes snapped open.  She recognized him immediately, if the expression on her face was any clue.  No doubt she was trying to figure out why an enemy was kneeling next to her.

"It's all right," Miroku soothed, "I'm going to help you."

The woman blinked a few times, then suddenly smiled wryly.  "Don't bother," she whispered so softly that the monk had to strain to hear, "I'm dead anyway."

Miroku frowned.  She was giving up?  Surely she had something to live for.  She was one of the most powerful demons that he had met; that had to mean something as far as quality of life went.  Granted, working for Naraku couldn't exactly be a walk through the woods, but if he ever really got on her nerves, then she could just leave him, right?

Despite her obvious reluctance to live, Miroku continued to wipe away blood from the cuts on her face.  "What happened," he asked lightly, while wondering if there was a way that he could save her, "Did Kouga finally catch up to you?"

Kagura laughed bitterly, ending in a painful cough.  "The wolf boy?  Nonsense."  The monk found it astounding that even though she was broken and dying, the woman managed to maintain the haughty air that she was known for.

"Then what?"  Miroku didn't know why he was pressing for an answer; most likely Kagura didn't want to talk about it anyway.  But a small part of him felt that if it was he, lying on the forest floor in a pool of his own blood, then he would want someone to know what had happened.  He feared that he would fade away and be forgotten, and refused to let the same thing happen to Kagura, even though she was an enemy.

For a long while, she said nothing as she stared into space, and the only sign that she was even still alive was her choked breath.  Sometime after Miroku had decided that she wasn't going to answer, Kagura spoke.

"I won't kill for him any more."

Miroku stopped attempting to bandage a slice across the demon's stomach and looked her in the eyes.  There was only one person that she could be talking about, and suddenly everything made sense.  She was a victim of Naraku, just as he was, and probably even worse.

"I see."

Kagura snorted, but the sound was weak, pathetic.  "No," she whispered, looking away, "You don't see."

Miroku frowned a bit despite himself.  Hadn't he suffered from Naraku's curse his entire life, and even before?  Wasn't he trying to be understanding to make a dying woman feel better?  "I see that you have suffered at least as much as I have if not more.  I see that you are taking the honorable – if easy – way out of it."  He regretted the words as soon as he'd said them – so much for being understanding – but it was too late to take them back.  The bitterness in his soul was irrepressible, and was demanding to get out.  The monk sighed, preparing to apologize, but Kagura cut him off before he could start.

She was laughing, he realized suddenly.  Laughing at him?  The monk bristled, ready to retaliate when the wind demon spoke.  "So the little monk has a temper does he?  I am impressed; I wasn't aware that you were an entity outside of your little group."  Miroku would have said something as insulting in return, if not for the wry twist to her mouth that betrayed what she was really feeling.

So instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face gently, causing her eyes to widen is surprise.  "I know how you must feel," he said softly, "for I am dying as well.  You need not hide your feelings from me."

"In life I am nothing but a killer and Naraku's pawn.  I have nothing to fear from death," Kagura spat.

"Everyone fears death, in some small corner of their soul."  Miroku watched while the demon's crimson eyes widened again, tears forming in their corners.

"I am afraid," she whispered as two precious drops made trails down her once perfect cheeks.  "Afraid to die … and afraid to live."  And suddenly she was crying wholeheartedly, unable to stop herself.

Miroku wiped away her tears with a soothing hand while his other wrapped around one of her own.  "I will stay with you, then.  If you wish."

Kagura turned toward him and smiled.  A real smile, small and fearful, but a real smile nonetheless.  "Thank you …"

"Miroku."
"Thank you Miroku."  Carefully, she reached up her other hand to touch his cheek, expressing with the simple action all that she could not say.  Then suddenly, her eyes widened, her face scrunched up in pain for an instant, before she stilled forever.

Miroku wasn't sure how long he sat there in the dirt, looking down upon the body of his former enemy, but when he finally came to his senses, the sun had long since gone down, and only the moonlight filtering though the treetops gave him any sight.

Kagura…  If only fate had gone a different way … we might have been friends, or perhaps something more.

His own problems forgotten for now, the monk leaned forward and closed her eyes in a final farewell.

*sigh* I'm sorry if Kagura is a little out of character, but I haven't seen any eps with her yet, so… if she is way OOC, then you can just blame it on the fact that she's dying.  Now that that's over, please let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it!