Chapter Two: The Deal
The candle was burning low in a pool of wax. Sango blinked sleepy eyes and wrung the wet cloth out in the bowl that the maid had given her. The innkeeper had offered to call in a doctor, but Sango had refused, stating that she could take care of the problem herself. That had been hours ago. And no matter how many times Sango tried to keep his fever down and his body cool, nothing seemed to work. Still, she didn't call for help.
Her gaze went to the spider bite on his right arm, positioned just a little above the kazaana. She had done her best to draw out the poison and had covered the bite with a bit of salve from underneath her plate armor, but Miroku's hand was still that sickening shade of purple.
She was scared and worried, but he had at least drifted in and out of consciousness a few times as she cared for him. His breathing was regular, and his heartbeat was strong. He would live through this, of course he would, because he had been poisoned much worse than this before. But Sango was still worried.
And so she dragged the wet cloth across his forehead, and down his neck, and studied his face carefully for a reaction. She thought she saw his eyebrow twitch slightly.
"Houshi-sama," she whispered.
Leaning over him as she was, she should have known that his hand would unfailingly find the curve of her bottom, but she still stiffened in surprise when it happened. She didn't slap him, as her dignity usually called for. She simply sighed in relief, because he was awake, and peeled the offending appendage away from her derriere.
"You're awake," she breathed as he opened his eyes and looked at her for the first time in many hours. There was a small smile on his lips. She pinched the top of his hand just slightly so that he would know she still didn't appreciate being groped, but she wasn't angry with him.
"What time is it?" His voice was hoarse.
"I'm not sure." Sango glanced out the window. "It's been dark for several hours. It must be the middle of the night."
His eyes showed concern. "You should be resting, Sango, not fretting over a houshi who has had far more severe injuries."
She bit her lip. "Houshi-sama, your hand…"
He followed her gaze, frowning. Slowly, he flexed the fingers of his right hand, and had to suppress a groan. Short lancelets of white hot pain shot up his arm, seeming to go straight into his chest. Sango noticed his grimace.
"Houshi-sama…"
"I'm fine, Sango," he breathed, and smiled for her sake.
But she saw through his ruse.
"Don't lie to me," she said sternly, scooting a little closer to him. "Don't you think I've known you long enough now to tell when you're not being truthful?" She paused, and contemplated her lap a moment before continuing. "Maybe I didn't get all the poison out…it must be my fault…"
"Sango," he said, cutting her off, "it's not your fault. I'm deeply grateful that you cared for me. You have done the best you can. It's just that…the kazaana is not as strong as it used to be. It is becoming more prone to injury. That must be the way of the curse."
She continued to glare at him. "You say this like you knew this would happen."
He didn't meet her eyes, didn't answer, and Sango knew the truth behind her statement.
"You—you stupid houshi!" She burst out, slamming her fists into the ground. "I can't believe you would do that, just because of kumo youkai! I could have handled it, I could have gotten them all with Hiraikotsu, it wasn't even necessary to…to…" She trailed off, her voice breaking, and turned away from him.
"Sango…" He lifted himself up slowly, and winced as another wave of pain rolled over him.
She turned back around and grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him back down. "You shouldn't be moving yet, Houshi-sama," she said, and for a moment it seemed her anger was forgotten. "The poison will only spread more throughout your body."
"I'm feeling a lot better," Miroku reassured her, although this was far from the truth. In reality, he was certain that he should be feeling better by now, but if anything, he was beginning to feel worse. He couldn't understand it; it was only a baby spider bite. How could it be affecting him this badly?
"You need to stop using your kazaana for a while," Sango was saying, dipping the wet rag into the bowl again. "Your ofuda work well, and you have your staff…You are an excellent fighter without the wind tunnel, Houshi-sama." She seemed to be trying to convince herself. "You'll need to be strong for the final battle against Naraku."
Miroku swallowed a lump in his throat. "Sango, I…"
You needn't tell her.
Now is as good a time as any.
She'll only worry more.
But she deserves to know.
He cleared his throat. "Sango, there is something I need to tell you."
She paused in the act of wringing out the cloth, and looked at him.
Miroku took a deep breath. "Not long after we left Shima-dono, I disappeared for a few days, do you remember?"
"Yes," she replied. "I let you borrow Kirara."
He nodded. "I went to Mushin-sama's. I had to…ask him a few questions. Check up on…" He trailed off, and glanced at his right hand. Sango understood.
"What did he say, Houshi-sama?" she asked cautiously, her voice very quiet.
He looked into her warm brown eyes, and considered lying to her. But the words were out before he could think again. "He told me that I had less than a year to live."
She sucked in her breath. "But…but he was just kidding, right? He always jokes about that." Now she was wringing her hands desperately.
Slowly, Miroku shook his head. "Not this time."
Her eyes were glimmering now, and Miroku hated himself. "But…it can't be…he has no way of knowing…"
"He knew the lifespan of my father's kazaana," Miroku said, babbling the truth, spewing it all out even though he wanted desperately to lie now. "He was about my age when it consumed him."
The tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. Before they could fall down her cheeks, Miroku sat up again and reached out, drawing her into him.
She cried quietly into his robes as he ran his hands through her hair, unable to say anything to calm her. When she fell asleep, her hands curled into his kesa, he sat with her until dawn.
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Naraku flowed out of the darkness, materializing in the middle of a quiet forest. It was completely empty in this cool grove, save for an old woman who sat hunched over a fire, and seemed not at all startled by the sudden appearance of Naraku.
"Tsubaki," he said, walking over to her. "I trust you have been well."
"Don't exchange pleasantries with me, Naraku," she replied, stoking her fire. In the orange glow, the wrinkles in her face gave her a distinctly birdlike look. "You are here to discuss the terms of a job, are you not?"
"Indeed. You have agreed, then? I can enlist you in my services once more?"
Tsubaki's lips twisted. "That depends on what you wish me to do, Naraku."
He smiled maliciously. "I am sure you remember the houshi that was traveling with Inuyasha."
"I recall there being a houshi, yes."
"I wish to kill him. He is nothing but a bother, and the taijiya will surely be stricken with grief if he were to die. It would be easy then to dispose of her. Is there a way to kill the monk indirectly?"
Tsubaki snorted. "Are you telling me you can't dispose of a monk, Naraku?"
"I don't wish to do it myself. If the monk dies of other causes, his friends' grief will be directed elsewhere; they will be distracted. It would be a perfect opportunity to destroy them."
"What about the curse you placed upon him?"
"The curse has yet to run its course. I want this done now."
"I see." She stared into the fire. "Well, lay out your terms, then."
He explained everything in detail, and Tsubaki listened in silence. When he finished, she was grinning wickedly.
"I will require one of his possessions," she said, "but he will die painlessly in his sleep by the time the sun has risen and fallen three times."
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