It was very early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten. A hot, dry wind was blowing. Leaves that had withered and died on the branch were picked up and tossed about, littering the air and ground. Dust blew from the dry paths, flinging dirt and grit into faces.
Even the birds seemed to avoid the ground, remaining high in the air or clinging to the branches. The few that remained, that was. A great many left, seeking shelter somewhere else, flying to places with less wind, or at least less dry.
The man stood in the middle of the clearing, his long black scalp lock blowing in the wind, snapping like a whip. A single ice-green eye watched the shorter man before him. Half his face was covered with a silver mask that covered his other eye as well. He wore black clothing - plain pants and boots, with leather thongs wrapped about the shins to keep the pants from billowing too much. A simple shirt. But while the cut was simple, the clothing looked more like a soldier's uniform than anything else.
The man standing before him was shorter, and a little plumper, but by no means fat. He had a very stern face, and wore an outfit similar to the other man's, excepting his was a very dark grey. There was a black design on the back, looking like some strange wheel.
"Why did you call me here, Omek?" the tall man asked. He took a hold of his scalp lock, holding it to keep it from striking the other man in the face.
The shorter man, Omek, grinned. He reached inside his clothing, and pulled out a small glass vial, "I have a little job for you, Jemu."
Jemu scowled - an effect made more grim-looking by the half-mask, "I need no help."
"Master says you do. And I am in no position to argue. Take this. Go to where they are sleeping, and open it."
Jemu took the black vial, peering into it. Something inside seemed to move, to shift. He grimaced with distase again, "And then what?"
"Just tip it over, onto it's side. Gently. Don't shake up what's inside...you wouldn't like it."
The vial was no longer than his thumb, "And that's it? Just open it and tip it over? What's inside, poison?"
"No. Just take it and do as I say."
Jemu scowled, pocketing the vial, "As you wish. How goes the Master's preparations for the invasion?"
Omek crossed his arms, grinning, "Well enough. The attack on the Celestial Plane was a success. Master was able to test their defenses. They did not expect us to attack the Celestial Plane itself, the fools. And without Izumi to rally them, many Senmin panicked. Now they are in doubt. Things go well."
Jemu watched Omek with disdain, "Those same Senmin were once your friends. You were once one of them. You seem to take delight in their panic."
Omek's face darkened, and he spoke, "Who do you think you are talking to, Jemu? Do not forget I am above you! Do not forget who is the Master's favourite."
Jemu said nothing, merely turned, and walked away from Omek, feeling the small black vial in his pocket.
The Shadeling moved through the forest, dark thoughts in his head. Omek was the Master's favourite, yes...but that position had once been held by Muzan.
The thought of the woman gave the Shadeling pain, and he clenched his fists.
Muzan.
The beautiful woman who had once commanded them. She had been Keimetsu's favourite, his vassal.
Jemu had felt his heart stir the moment he saw her, the moment she had come to him to offer him a place in Keimetsu's forces. Muzan had travelled among other planes and realms, searching for those with power who would join her Master in the conquoring of this plane. Jemu had been one of the first she had sought out.
He had tried to catch her eye, to prove himself to her, to show her what he was capable of. He had hoped that she would have seen how much he admired her, how much he thought of her, and dreamed she would reciprocate.
She had been pleased when he had succeeded in tearing away the woman's soul, taking part of Kagome's life force and soul, and imprisoning it inside a sapphire. They had been trying to get the Shikon away from from the small group. Jemu himself hadn't known why Keimetsu wanted the thing - he was more powerful than the small stone - but he had been asked to get it from Kagome. It had been an easy enough thing to litter the land with his special gems, waiting for her to simply touch one.
His entire plan would have worked. Kagome would tell her friends nothing of what had happened, and they would continue to collect the pieces of the Shikon. Once it was finished, she would bring it to Jemu, and he would give it to Muzan.
Only something had gone wrong. Somehow, some way, the others had found out what had happened, and they had dared to attack him. There had been a fight, and he had lost the sapphire. The cursed Kitsune child had grabbed it.
The giant demon feline had attacked, destroying half his face, cursing him to wear the half mask for the rest of his existance.
Muzan had been dissapointed. Jemu had seen it in her face. And even though he had asked for another chance, it hadn't been enough to regain anything he had lost in her eyes.
Jemu moved silently through the forest.
Then...Muzan had been lost.
She had turned from them. She had tried to go back to Izumi, go back to who she had been, long ago, another Handmaiden of Amaterasu. And had been slain.
By Keimetsu.
Jemu did not know how Keimetsu had known. It was possible that the Master had been able to read her heart, but Jemu himself suspected treachery. Omek had threatened her once before.
Well...Omek was on the top now...but as he himself said to Muzan...that just meant he had much further to fall.
Jemu slowed as he came to the small clearing where he knew the four friends slept. Easing himself closer, he peered into the clearing.
There they were, the fools. Sleeping.
The three humans were lying on the ground, covered in a light sheet, a tarpulin erected to keep the flying dust and dirt from them. The Kitsune child was most likely sleeping with one of the women.
The hanyou was seated back against a tree, arms crossed, asleep. Of the four of them, Jemu knew he had to be the most careful of the hanyou. He had exceptional hearing and vision, not to mention a good sense of smell.
The latter had been overcome by approaching downwind of the group. With the wind blowing, the hanyou should only smell him if he got too close. Which he had no intention of doing.
Likewise - hopefully - his hearing would be limited due to the wind as well.
Jemu took out the small vial from his pocket, peering at it again.
It was so small. How could it do any damage?
He bent, and laid it on the ground, in some grass, where it couldn't blow away. He carefully uncorked it, and eased it over onto it's side.
For a moment, nothing happened. No liquid came out, no gas. Nothing.
He thought, for a moment, the vial was empty.
After a second, a blackness started to ooze from the lip of the vial. It was sluggish, thick. Like molassas, it drifted out of the vial, puddling on the edge.
It suddenly moved faster, now oozing out to gather in front of the vial. It seemed to quiver for a moment, and Jemu was suddenly struck with the realization it was somehow alive.
It had no eyes, but it moved away from the vial, and now it looked like nothing more than a giant, glistening, black slug.
Quickly, disgustingly quick, it oozed away from Jemu, making it's way into the clearing with the four sleeping in the clearing.
Jemu stood, though slightly crouched, and watched, curious. What the hell was that?
It oozed over the ground, approaching the closest sleeper, the youngest woman. Kagome.
The small glistening slug-like thing approached her face, and seemed to study her. Mere inches from her face, it quivered, studying, then left.
It slid on to the next, the other woman.
Likewise, it remained near her, oozing it's way around her, leaving no trail, studying her. It almost seemed to sniff the air.
It turned, oozing away.
It approached the hanyou, gliding up around a foot. It moved to the hanyou's hip, remaining still, studying.
Perhaps it had a smell after all. Or perhaps the hanyou could sense the alien-ness of it.
An ear flicked, a slight furrow of the brow.
Jemu cursed, and hunched down.
But the thing had no interest in the hanyou, and turned, oozing away. The sleeping hanyou mumured something in his sleep, settling down again, getting more comfortable.
The thing oozed towards the monk, gliding around his sleeping back, towards his face.
It seemed to quiver, perhaps smelling something, and moved closer. It glided towards one outstretched hand, a hand covered with a cloth gauntlet.
The small black slug-like thing moved towards the hand, and one end seemed to nose around, and then slipped beneath the cloth gauntlet.
Jemu watched, curious, as the small black thing oozed it's way under the cloth gauntlet, going, going, gone, until it vanished from sight.
The monk stirred, rolling over, pulling the sheet higher around him, and settled back to sleep again.
Jemu stayed a few minutes longer, to see if anything would happen, but nothing did, and after a while, he slipped away again, into the shadows.
A few hours later, the wind died down, and the sun rose. Rain was promised in the air, a cool feeling, slightly damp, leaving farmers and non-farmers alike praying for rain.
Kagome tucked her sleeping roll into her backpack, and tightened the straps. She stood up, looking out over the forest.
The trees were turning brown again, leaves having withered.
It's almost December. Summer turned into fall, and just stayed there. Then it started back into summer. Now it just yo-yos back and forth. Little rain. Everything's so dry.
If winter comes back with a hurry, everything will die of shock. All the trees, all the crops...
Hearing laughter, Kagome turned to see Sango laughing at Miroku.
Kirara was halfway up the monk's back, clinging with her small claws, trying to make her way to his shoulder. Miroku was trying to help her, but his face was indicating the claws weren't just catching cloth.
"Easy Kirara, there's flesh under there," Miroku gasped.
Sango tried to help, but Kirara was determined to do it herself, and only scrabbled faster.
After a second of scrabbling and clinging, she made it to the monk's shoulder, and perched there, looking very pleased with herself.
Sango laughed, "Are you ok, Miroku?"
"Nothing that can't heal," he said, sounding a little pained, "Her claws are very sharp..."
"I tried to cut them once," Sango said, rolling up her backpack.
"How did that go?"
"Not well," she laughed again, "She was terribly offended. She never bit me, nor growled, but she made her displeasure well known. Refused to let me pick her up for 2 days. I've never tried it again."
"I'll take that as fair warning then," he smiled at her.
Kagome, watching them, smiled herself. After Sango gave Miroku his mother's jewelry box as a gift, they seemed to be getting closer still. Sango no longer seemed to blush quite as much as she used to when the monk smiled at her, or spoke softly to her. A compliment still made her pretty face red, though, and Kagome thought if Miroku ever tried to embrace her she might actually faint. But she was obviously getting more comfortable with Miroku's apparent feelings for her.
They left the village they had been staying at, searching out a dangerous demon, and started back towards Kaede's village.
It was light banter, talking comfortably with each other, sometimes long silences as well. But it was the comfortable silence that only close friends can share, where nothing is said, yet each knew the other so well, they knew no one was worried, or unhappy, or uneasy about anything. Everyone was relaxed, and at ease.
"Don't forget," Kagome announced, as they walked, "I'm bringing you guys home next week, for some home cooking and a shower and some spoiling by mom."
"Are you certain your mother won't mind us all arriving at once, Kagome?" Miroku asked, rubbing absently at his hand, "Four people suddenly showing up like that..."
"Trust me," Kagome smiled, "Mom is looking forward to it. She's planning out a huge meal, getting a lend of a neighbour's table...she's enjoying planning all this."
"It's so much bother for her," Sango murmured.
"You don't know Kagome's mother," InuYasha said, "She loves to go all out like this."
Kagome smiled at him.
"Well, I certainly won't say no to a home-made meal," Miroku smiled, flexing his hand, "Nor having one of these showers InuYasha has been telling me about."
"It's kinda weird at first," the hanyou admitted, "It's like standing under a really small waterfall in a huge white bucket."
"Miroku," Sango said softly, "You keep rubbing your hand. Your fingers aren't hurting again, are they?"
"Hmm? Oh no, not at all," he looked down at his gauntleted hand, "My hand is itchy for some reason."
"Grandpa says that means money will cross your palm," Kagome smiled.
The monk grinned, "I won't say no to that, either!"
They made their way back to Kaede's, talking about planning their next move.
"The only thing I want to do is find Jemu," InuYasha said, "He's the last Shadeling."
"That we know of," Sango replied.
"Thanks," InuYasha complained.
"What do you think will happen when we defeat Jemu?" Sango asked quietly, "Do you think Keimetsu will attack?"
"I don't know." Kagome said, "Izumi said that the Shadelings were like the Shock troops of Keimetsu. I'm not a general, but I know that once the shock troops go through, or die, the regular soldiers move in. I'm not sure what form they'll take."
"Who cares?" InuYasha growled, "When they show up, we'll kill them too!"
Miroku laughed, "Ever the optimist, our InuYasha."
They walked on, talking lowly.
Miroku, as he walked, looked down at his hand.
His palm itched, under the cloth gauntlet, around where the Wind Tunnel lay.
He scratched at it through the Wind Tunnel. The itch eased back, but it remained there.
He frowned. Why on earth was his hand itchy?
He felt a moment's fear that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, despite the wisdom of Kaede, Akira, and the other sages, his Wind Tunnel would grow and overwhelm him as Naraku had originally planned. Once Naraku was killed, the threat of the Wind Tunnel growing and killing him vanished, although he had had it too long. He would never be rid of it. Nor would he pass it to any children. It had been a comfort, knowing on his death it would just fade.
But perhaps the sages were wrong. Or else, now that Naraku was back, his Wind Tunnel was out of control again?
No. Izumi had told him that despite his return, Naraku's creation of the Wind Tunnel was over and done with.
Then why this odd itching? He doubted a flea or mosquito could bite him through the gauntlet, and if it had gotten under the gauntlet it would have been sucked in.
He rubbed his palm with a thumb.
Despite having it all his life, Miroku hated the feel of it. When he touched his palm, he could feel the absense there, the gap. The hole.
The void.
If he really poked around, he could feel the edges of the void, but it always made him feel somewhat queasy, actually poking at it like that.
He rubbed it again, wondering if, in some strange way, it had become infected or injured.
"Miroku?" Sango's voice brought him back to the present, and he looked up.
"Coming," he smiled, and caught up.
Back in Kaede's village, they went back Kaede's village. The old woman, and Izumi, were sitting on the porch, talking. When they saw the small group, they fell silent. InuYasha, suspicious as always, went on alert.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," Izumi smiled, "How did the hunting go?"
"Easy enough," Miroku replied, sitting beside Izumi after shaking out his robes.
InuYasha watched Izumi warily. Why did women always say "nothing", when it was always obviously something? If you were talking, and shut up when someone walked into the room, that wasn't 'nothing', it was 'something'.
He snorted, suddenly in a bad mood.
The day passed on. There was nothing to do, so Kagome's group saw to smaller chores that needed doing, and it was always a good idea to see to them when they had time. For the most part, it consisted of making sure weapons and armor were repaired and in good shape.
Kagome's sword had been sharpened a while back, and since it hadn't really seen any action for a while, really had nothing to do. She wore no armor, and the Shikon needed no tending. So she set about mending some tears and restocking the small first aid kits everyone carried with them.
Miroku had just finished setting some sutras to dry when a woman from the village approached and asked for some help. Her sister had just given birth, and wanted the child blessed.
He agreed to help, and followed her back into the village proper, leaving the others to keep tending their weapons.
The service was a simple one; he asked the good spirits and the ancestors to keep a watch over the child, using blessed herbs and incense to cleanse the child's new soul. The parents were very happy, and paid him with some coins, a rare payment.
Miroku left the smiling family, a slight frown on his face.
His hand had started itching terribly during the ritual, and it had been all he could do to keep himself from scratching wildly at it. It almost ached at the same time, like a bad flea bite. He was starting to worry that perhaps it had become infected somehow.
Normally, Miroku wouldn't worry too much about it. If it were his other hand that was acting that way, he would simply ask Kagome and Lady Kaede to have a look at it. But he simply didn't really trust anything to do with the Wind Tunnel, and it certainly wasn't something that could be examined at ease.
The monk also had a deep desire to keep his hand covered.
Time had passed, and his friends had accepted him into their hearts and souls, refusing to leave his side even though at one time there was a real possibility that the hole in his hand might just one day expand and destroy him and anyone near him. As he had told the head monk - the non-existant head monk that Neith had made him see during his trials - his friends meant more to him than anything else in his life - even his own vows - because they had accepted him so readily. Even as a monk, on more than one occasion, when Miroku had revealed the Wind Tunnel in his hand, he had been asked politely - and often impolitely - he had been told to leave the village. No one wanted a man with a hold in his hand that sucked everything and anything into it. On two occasions, he had even been driven from a village, when it was discovered, once pelted with garbage. He never spoke of it to his friends, but the Wind Tunnel had been a blight to him in more ways than one as he wandered.
So even now, after all that had happened, Miroku was still somewhat hesitant to just talk about it, even with his friends. He thought of it was a weapon, nothing more, nothing less, and used it when necessary, and tried to forget about it afterwards.
Which was why he called for Mikado's assistance when he was near the forest, and no where near his friends.
She appeared a short while later, looking a little harried, her hair a little disarrayed, "What's up?"
Miroku suddenly felt foolish. He had forgotten what the Senmin was doing, especially after the attack on the Celestial Plane, and he asked her here for a very unimportant request.
"Lad - er...Mikado. I was wondering if...ah..."
"What is it, Miroku?"
"I...I'm sorry, Mikado, I fear I forgot how busy you've been. I shouldn't have asked you down here for something unimportant."
Mikado crossed her arms, but grinned, "If you had to ask me down here, I doubt it's unimportant. What is it?"
"I...I'm worried about...my Wind Tunnel."
The smile left her face, and she lowered her arms, "What's wrong?"
He explained what was going on, quickly assuring her he doubted it was just some mosquito bite or allergy.
Mikado nodded, "Alright, I'm with you so far. But I really don't know anything about these...Voids, Miroku. Izumi would probably know a little more, but even then. I mean, nothing personal, but a person with a hole to nowhere stuffed into their bodies isn't exactly common enough even for a Senmin to encounter."
"No...I understand. I supposed you might say if anyone can be called an 'expert' on this, it would be me. However, I could use your help in checking on it."
Mikado nodded, "Alright, what do you need me to do?"
"Well...as you probably know, once the gauntlet and prayer beads are off, it truly opens. I've never been able to just look into it without the risk of literally sucking myself in. A prospect I would rather avoid."
"No doubt," Mikado smiled.
"I -could- look at it with the prayer beads on and the cloth removed, but even then, there's a sort of...coating over it. I simply get as good a look as I need."
Mikado nodded, "You want me to make some sort of barrier over it, don't you?"
Miroku nodded, "Just so, yes. As a Senmin, I'm sure you can make some sort of invisible shield that would cover the Wind Tunnel while I actually have it open so I could see if anything is wrong."
A motion from the corner of his eye caught the monk's attention, and he turned to see Izumi walking towards them. For a second he almost panicked, thinking everyone was showing up, but he saw the woman was alone.
"I called Izumi to come out," Mikado said gently, "As I said, she might know more about this than I do."
Miroku nodded.
They waited for Izumi to join them, then Miroku quickly brought her up to speed.
"And what is it you expect to see, Miroku?" Izumi asked.
"I don't know, to be honest," Miroku said, "I'm afraid...well..."
He fell silent, and they quietly waited.
Miroku raised his hand, staring at the cloth that covered his palm, "I'm afraid I might see the edges growing, or somehow split or cracked. Some sign it might be growing afterall."
Izumi nodded. Amaterasu had told her, and she had told Miroku herself, that the Wind Tunnel would not grow, nor enlarge. But she understood the monk's need to just check it, reassure himself everything was ok.
"Give me your hand, Miroku," Mikado said.
Miroku held out his hand, and the Senmin took it. She turned it over, palm up, and concentrated.
Miroku felt a warm feeling emcompass his hand, as if it were put into a warm container or box. He couldn't feel any wind or breeze on his hand.
"Alright, there you go."
Miroku took a breath and reached in to his other hand. He quickly pulled back the cloth gauntlet and removed the prayer beads.
He felt the Wind Tunnel spring to life, but it felt odd, as it wasn't drawing in anything.
The three people leaned in, peering at the Wind Tunnel.
The hole in the man's hand sat in the center of his palm, a black hole to nowhere. The very edges of the hole seemed slightly blurred, no real sharp edge to the hole like one would see in a hole dug into the ground.
The flesh around the hole certainly looked ok, normal flesh tone. It seemed healthy, there was no redness or any sign of irritation.
Miroku slightly crinked his fingers, moving his hand gently.
He suddenly felt the cooler air on his fingers, and he gasped, reaching for the prayer beads.
"It's ok," Mikado interrupted him, "I'm just shrinking down the shield a little.."
Warily, he lowered his hand again, and once again, three heads bent over the hand.
"I don't see anything," Izumi said gently, "At least nothing that I would notice as trouble. Do you notice anything, dear?"
Miroku shook his head, "No, I..."
He fell silent, blinking. For a second, just a second, he thought he had seen something move inside. A sort of blackness against the blackness.
Narrowing his eyes, Miroku leaned closer, looking deep into the Wind Tunnel, a view he had never really had the luxury of seeing before.
There was only a dark blackness there, an utter and true nothingness. Not for the first time, the monk wondered just where the hole in his hand led.
Suddenly, something moved again, and in the center of the blackness in the palm of his hand, a red eye opened, and glared back at the monk, triangular pupil as black as the void around it.