I don't own Inuyasha at any point throughout this story. This is a fanfic, I am not Rumiko Takahashi., (I'm not rich, famous or have any fans, so there ya go.)
I hope you tell me what you do/don't like, and whatever – mostly I want to know if the story makes sense, is believable (as far as fatnasies go), and if it's consistant. Flames are fine, too. Anyway, I hope you like it – if no, that's ok too. Thanks!
***
The demon lunged, scales flashing in the dark moonlight and teeth snapping. He was beyond angry; the disgusting beast was furious. How dare she interrupt him? He had done no real harm... he would have had she come later, but he hadn't done harm yet.
She could do little more than duck under the attack, dropping onto her stomach and pressing herself into the ground as the demon's lithe body darted over hers; the feel of its heated breath rose goose flesh along her spine. The beast passed over her, one claw tore cloth by her ribs, before it twisted around to double back at her. The ally they were in was narrow and the beast had difficulty turning around in the small space, buying her some time. Unfortunately, she was having difficutly maneuvering herself as well.
Sango took her chances. Stumbling forward, she snatched up her gigantic boomerang, Hiraikotsu, and ran.
Out of the ally, out of the ally, she silently chanted. She rounded a corner, skidded into an open courtyard and turned with Hiraikotsu raised to poise. The demon snapped around the corner, met her in a bizarre standoff across the courtyard, hissing an odd sound. She'd hurt him, she knew that. Before being trapped in the ally she had managed to catch the beast with one solid hit, at least, and its hard breathing was indicative of the damage she'd done.
"Keep fighting, yokai," Sango challenged. She loved the fight, the thrill, the intensity. This demon wasn't proving to be a great challenge, but it was better than mundane monotoring. No reason to dawdle, either, however – she needed to get this task done quickly if she planned to suceed. And if she planned to make it to breakfast on time.
The beast twisted around, brought up its scaly tail and swung. Sango ducked, rose again and lifted her weapon over her head. With great force and little energy, she swung the demon-bone-made weapon around and out –
— Then caught it up short, hard enough to jarr her shoulder, because a familiar shout rang out. She stumbled under the propulsion as the white haired half-yokai came down on the scaled beast, his claws bared and snarling.
"Inu-yasha!" she irritably hissed, her shoulder aching. He ignored her as he clawed deep gashes into the beast.
"You left without me, bitch!" he accused, meeting her anger with his own. Sango caught her balance, glowering at him, even as her soft heart worried that her friend would find himelf wounded. Her worry doubled once the demon shook Inuyasha loose and sent him flying. He landed on the balls of his bare feet, skidded back along the ground.
Sango exhaled sharply and swung again, sent her weapon careening through the air. The scaled yokai dodged with fluid, watery movements and Hiraikotsu came back to her. She moved a few steps aside, caught the weapon, and raised it again. And now that she knew Inuyasha was here, she held her ground so he could draw his sword and lunge again, slicing at the beast from the other side.
He nearly sliced it in half, so reeking bowels bulged through skin and scales. But his spine was whole and as it howeled its agony, it staggered over itself before whipping around to furiously turn on Inuasyasha.
The beast's short legs moved quickly, tail slashing from side to side.
"Inuyasha!" shouted Sango, but of course the half-yokai only grinned in what emerged as more of a snarl, and waited. He jumped, skipped off the wall at his back and flipped over the yokai, split its skull.
The demon staggered and fumbled; Hiraikotsu careened as the panicking beast shattered stone under its clawed feet. Alarmed and desperate, he whipped his tail around, catching Sango in the side. Agony bloomed as the tail caught her in the ribs. Her feet left the ground.
The demon bone boomerang snapped the demon's head off in the same moment that Inuyasha shouted her name and sliced it through the middle. Sango caught sight of the beast falling into three pieces a breath before she went through the window. She rolled, hit the opposite wall and landed hard enough to feel everything in her body. Pain shuddered under the skin, throbbing through the bone of her ribs.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Sango doubled over, protectively gripping her ribs, teeth gritted. Heat wafted through her body. Her stomach rolled. She did not have to be a healer to know she'd managed to do serious damage.
Struggling, Sango climbed to her feet and found herself staring at a stunned family of three who had, a moment ago, been watching a movie and oblivious to the goings on in the all outside their apartment. Their window was shattered; she'd knocked over some decorative glass pieces, shattering them on the floor. Surprisingly, there seemed to be very little harm otherwise done.
Or so she believed until the Hiraikotsu came slamming through the wall, splintered the low coffee table, and buried itself into the wooden floor of the house. Sango frowned down at the weapon, feeling oddly betrayed by her weapon, like it had done this on purpose. Through the wall, she could see Inuyasha glowering as he leaned to the side to peer at her through the window.
"There you go," he called.
She frowned at him in a way that let him know she was mentaly flipping him off.
Sango smiled wanly at the family as she limped her way to the weapon. Her hip ached; she'd smacked it into something during her slide across the room. Her ribs burned and throbbed, stinging with such force the edge of her vision was sparkling with color. Swallowing against the nausea, she lifted Hiraikotsu, groaned at the pain the intense movement caused, and tucked the other arm against her side.
Finally, the stunned family still staring at her, entirely silent, she made her way to the nearest door. It somehow seemed seemed oddly rude to go climbing through the hole in the wall, though that would have been her quickest retreat.
"Sorry, " she murmured as she fastened her weapon over her shoulder and dragged the door closed behind her.
"What was that?" Sango demanded, straddled over her giant demon cat and flying high enough over the city to be relatively unseen. Cross-legged behind her, fuming, Inuyasha glared.
"What was what?"
"That… thing."
"Too much for you?" he snidely asked. Sango frowned.
"No. It wasn't particularly strong at all, but…" her voice trailed away as her mind assessed and considered. At her back, she heard Inuyasha mutter a curse.
"It was pretty weird," he admitted. "It kind of seemed like a puppet. Every time it moved it almost seemed to pause, like it was listening to orders first." Sango nodded as dark hair torn loose from her pony tail slapped at her face.
"That's the third time this month alone we've crossed the same behaviors."
"I'm starting to wonder if someone laid a clutch of retarded babies." Sango hid her smirk behind a frown and turned her head only a little to the side, unwilling to twist around to look at him lest she jar her aching ribs. Then, "Does the Order of Exterminators have anything to say about it?"
"I get my orders from my father, not any of the higher ups," Sango clarified. "If they've said anything to him about it, he hasn't passed that on to me."
"Ask."
Sango hesitated. "I will… if we cross any more." She chewed her lip. "Of course, I can't mention you were ever there."
"Sure you get to go and take all the fucking credit."
"If they find out I'm associating with you, they'll kick me out!"
"Better off without 'em anyway."
"Inuyasha," she lightly scolded and he muttered something in return, but she couldn't hear it over the wind. More loudly, he added,
"The whole world would be better off without those hypocritical sons of bitches." Carefully, Sango did not answer and, perhaps wisely, changed the topic altogether.
"I did not leave you behind," she told him seriously after some moments.
"You were supposed to get me before you went off to track down that… thing. You never did, so it's your own fault you're hurt now." Sango grit her teeth and carefully did not sigh because she knew it was going to hurt of she did.
"I couldn't find you!" Even as she said it, Inuyasha rose to a crouch and looked down the ground far below.
"Look harder next time and don't go wandering off by yourself, you idiot," he snapped. Sango exhaled, glanced down at the rooftops shooting by beneath them.
Puppets. That word was making her uneasy. Puppet… puppet.
"Do you ever feel like your life is a series of deja vu?" she asked on impulse. Inuyasha snorted.
"You're an idiot," he snapped, and leapt from the two tailed cat's back to plummet down to the rooftop of his father's mansion below. Sango looked to the top of the cat's head.
"I miss working alone," she muttered, not really meaning it. A low growl rumbled through the cat's body as she soared over the city. Sango sighed, nodding her agreement, understanding the demon cat without words. "It has been quiet lately." She paused. "Hm. With Inuyasha, I give it but a couple weeks more before we realize we've just jinxed ourselves."
***
Miroku was awakened at three o'clock because his mother and someone from the bar she frequented were in her bedroom – and they were loud.
He tried, with a groan, to cover the sound using his headphones. It didn't work. Within half an hour he crawled up from the couch in the living room that served as his bed and dug about the trailer home floor until he found a relatively clean pair of jeans and an indigo t-shirt that at least smelled clean. He organized dirty dishes onto the counter of the little kitchen before leaning over the sink to scrub water over his face and brush his teeth, combed some water into his russet hair and pulled the straggled ends back into a band.
Yawning, Miroku went in search of his backpack, found it had fallen down the back of the couch and had to move the furniture to get it back out. He'd spent the evening with friends playing video games, had forgotten all about homework – even if he had remembered it, he wouldn't have done it.
Why bother? He wondered with a dry resigned glance to the hand shrouded in cloth and beads. It was going to kill him anyway and he had given up on trying to figure out how to stop it.
Returning to the dingy kitchen, he kicked through the cluttered floor and opened the yellowing fridge. There was nothing there besides an opened carton of foul smelling yogurt, half an apple, and twenty some-odd beers. Instead, since it had fallen silent at this point, he was forced to resort to quietly sneaking into his mother's room. It smelled like sweat, beer and sex in here, musty and stale.
He picked up her purse from the scratched dresser and slipped a few dollars from her wallet, grateful there was any left at all after a trip to the bar. Glancing over once more to make sure they were both passed out, he crept back out of the room and pocketed the money. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left the trailer by three forty five.
It was still dark outside and chilly to boot. He slid his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and worked his way across the old warehouse parking lot to the poorly lit street beyond. Fortunately, he did not come across anyone and while he could have taken care of himself just fine, Miroku was glad for it.
He stood at the dark bus stop for ten minutes before the rumbling beast pulled up. He dropped his change into the payment slot and slumped into the first seat – the bright bus was empty save one other person, an older man who dozed in the back. Wordlessly, the driver set the bus into gear and rolled north.
Though yawning and sleepy, Miroku remained awake and alert, watching the dark alleyways and rundown houses slide by. Gradually, the city grew nicer, well tended. The cracks in the streets here were patched, the side walks clean. There were no alleyways here – not really. There were no trailers, either.
When he saw what he was looking for, Miroku reached up to pull the chord overhead. The bus pulled up the curb and idled there until he stood on the sidewalk. Once it ground away, making a noise that Miroku was quite sure was not a good one, he crossed the street and climbed the endless stairs that took him to the top of the hill.
Mushin was there, waiting outside the pretty shrine as if he had been expecting him. The old man smiled warmly and Miroku did not miss that his face was flushed or that the monk swayed a little unsteadily.
"Good morning, Miroku."
"Mornin'." Miroku adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "Mind if I sleep here the rest of the night?" Mushin shook his head.
"We never do," he swore, and was honest with it. "Go on to bed, my boy. I'll wake you for school." Now, Miroku was fairly certain that wasn't going to happen, so once he reached the little room the monks had eventually set aside for him some time ago, he set the alarm clock he had long since left here.
Frankly, were it not for the monks, Miroku would long since have dropped out.
He didn't sleep the rest of the night. He lied on his back and held his cursed hand before his face, staring at it. He didn't know why.
It wasn't going to change anything.
***
Miroku emerged from the temple as sunlight brightly streamed down over the city. He had to step over Mushin in the doorway to get out and frowned down at the monk, paused long enough to check for a pulse, then continued on his way, satisfied to find one still thrumming beneath layers of flesh.
"Hey, Miroku." Miroku's expression slid into a contended grin and he inclined his head in polite greeting.
"Good morning, Kagome." She was already straddled over her bike, but now she stepped back over it and walked alongside instead, keeping pace with him. As they descended the stairs to the normal world below, she brace the bike to hold it secure. While she busied herself with that, Miroku rocked back onto the balls of his feet to casually get a good look at her round bottom.
"You must have gotten in pretty late," she mused. He snapped back to attention. "I was up until two o'clock this morning and never saw you." Miroku's grin turned almost leering as he teased – she was fun to tease.
"Were you looking for me?" he smugly asked. She spared him a look he knew well enough and humorously replied,
"No. I was guessing – you aren't always so quiet getting here. Especially after a party. You know what I mean?" Miroku frowned at that. What party? "Ani's party." Ah, that party. Miroku shrugged.
"Wasn't there." Kagome gasped in mock astonishment.
"You weren't there! Houshi, I am surprised at you! Is it possible you are growing, dare I say, bored?" Miroku shook his head.
"I never grow bored of those… er… ladies. I just forgot." She dryly spared him a glance.
"You were stoned, weren't you?" He did not answer because he did not want the lecture.
"What were you doing awake until two?" he asked instead. Kagome's expression said she was full aware he was trying to divert her attention, but she let it go.
"Math test," she replied. Her expression turned wistful. "I dreamed that I passed with flying colors, that I even successfully got the extra credit, and the school threw me a party." Miroku arched a brow at her, eyed her chest with some consideration since she was busy daydreaming and wouldn't notice.
"You did?" He absently wondered. She winced.
"No. I wish I had dreamed that. I dreamed about beheaded, disemboweled people." Miroku stopped right where he was, all thoughts off breasts and butts falling out of his head, and one foot on the step above the other. He blinked at her, startled.
"You dreamed about what?" he asked, flabbergasted. Kagome inhaled and sharply let it out again. In that moment, he did not notice the nice heave of her bosom. Mostly.
"Okay, so, remember last week I had that dream about all those faceless people getting sucked into the wind tunnel thing in your hand?" Miroku serenely nodded. Inwardly he cursed and glowered. He flexed the beaded, shrouded hand that had previously been casually slack in his pocket.
"Yes," he smoothly replied, disturbed and angry and wishing she had never, ever told him about that dream. She visibly hesitated.
"Well, it was the same dream, except that the people were getting cut to pieces at the same time." Miroku said nothing, but he stared down at her, knowing he was intent and horrified, and working to regain composure that wouldn't come. Uncomfortable, Kagome looked back at him.
They had known one another for years. Long enough that Kagome had eventually been made aware that in his right palm he carried a curse; one that would kill him before too much longer. Long enough for her to care enough to be saddened by that. Long enough for him to know that she carried, deep within, the blessed powers of a priestess – and that she was pretty well ignorant of the fact.
They had known one another long enough for him to know she had frightening dreams possessing a horrible tendency to, in some form another, come true, and that, in part, was why he found her dreams about him so horribly disturbing.
"You dreamed I sucked chopped up people into hell," he slowly replied. She nervously smiled.
"I wish I really had dreamed about the math test."
"No kidding."
She spared him another apologetic glance before starting down the stairs again. More hesitant, Miroku followed, and very nearly gagged himself into throwing up so he didn't have to follow her the rest of the way to school. It was important to the monks, however, that he attended, and so he made his appearances even if he didn't make the effort. A sort of middle ground.
"I kind of wish you'd stop telling me these things," he told her.
"Sorry." As they neared the bottom, where the sidewalk stretched for ages in either direction, she slung her leg back over the bike and straddled it again. "I just… I was wondering, maybe, if that might be – somehow – of any use to you in your search about how to get rid of it."
Miroku's hand itched; he nearly held it out to look at it again and resisted. He smiled lazily.
"You never know," he diplomatically replied before inclining his head to the east. "Perhaps you should be on your way, Kagome. I would hate to see you late for your math final." She nodded, shifted to set her foot in one stirrup.
"Yes. I'll see you in a little while, Houshi."
Houshi Miroku nodded, fisting his hand in his pocket. "See ya."
