So, I kind of left the country for over a month, which made it a bit hard to update. I then graduated from university and got a full-time job. So, you know, I'm kind of exhausted and stuff. I apologize for the ridiculously long, unannounced hiatus!
I really hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I wrote it little by little since August.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.
Opacity
Fear
For the first time in a long time, Miroku was driving.
He rubbed his bleary eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand while his other guided the steering wheel. It had only been a couple of days since their last big demon fight, but the stress and lack of sleep made it feel like it had been months.
The girls were asleep in the backseat, leaning against one other with Shippou nestled between them. In the two days since Kagome's kidnapping and rescue, she had been sluggish and easily confused. There had been three times so far when she suddenly stopped talking or moving and looked off into the distance, her eyes no longer focused. All three times, she snapped to attention the moment someone touched her.
When the others had returned from the old factory after the fight with Kaguya, Miroku had immediately known something had gone wrong—Kagome looked exhausted and guilty, Sango was in bad shape, and Inuyasha wouldn't look anyone in the eye. They had told him what happened, but Miroku still felt like he was missing something crucial. Both Inuyasha and Sango had been knocked out (but at different times), and Kagome's memory was more than a little fuzzy. Something had happened.
Well, 'something' always happened when it came to them.
With a sigh, Miroku checked the rearview mirror, but all was quiet in the backseat. Next to him, Inuyasha napped restlessly. Every few minutes, he would snarl or flinch as if he was fighting monsters even in his dreams.
Their group was falling apart.
Okay, sure, they had never gotten along better—Sango returned Miroku's romantic gestures without the hesitation or suspicion she used to have; Kagome and Inuyasha were constantly in contact wifth one another, always brushing hands or settling against each other as if it were completely natural; and both sets of best friends had yet to grow tired of always being together. There was trust now. They worked as a unit now.
But…
But Kagome and Miroku still hadn't told anyone about Inuyasha turning into a full demon that one time, and it was starting to eat away at the part of Miroku that was decent—Inuyasha was his best friend and Sango was basically his girlfriend, and this was an important piece of information that could potentially—well—okay, Miroku had to face it, demon Inuyasha was a serious problem. Ignoring it was not going to make it go away.
Meanwhile, Naraku was hiding somewhere while orchestrating mass murder, Kaguya had gotten away, and there was still a mysterious accomplice out there with the last piece of the Shikon no Tama. Plus, Sesshoumaru was sleeping with their informant, they had a child traveling with them, and Kagome was suffering from some kind of post traumatic stress disorder and/or psychosis.
And, damn it, Miroku just wanted a nice vacation away from it all. Preferably one with a beach and Sango in a bikini, but he would take just about anything.
It could have been minutes later (but was probably more like hours) when Miroku next checked on the girls in the backseat. When he flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror, he was startled to find Kagome's big blue ones looking back at him in the reflection. They were murky with sleep but more aware than they'd been for days.
"Hi," he said, his voice hushed since the other three were still fast asleep.
"Hi," she mumbled before yawning, her jaw creaking with it. "How close are we?"
"A few more hours," he promised, breaking eye contact to focus on the road. "You got that jewel put away?"
"Yep," she answered, a strangeness in her voice at the mention of the Shikon no Tama—she sounded both affectionate and irritated. "It's in that weird box that Kagura sent it in. Can you sense it at all?"
Even though he was not a demon, Miroku had gone through enough meditative training and demon hunting to know when there was something supernatural around. It helped when he was performing exorcisms—well, real ones. The ones he performed for extra cash were about as legitimate as his driver's license. (Hunters didn't exactly go to the DMV.)
"Not a thing," he answered after taking the time to concentrate on his surroundings. Cursed and powerful objects disturbed the air in a way that Miroku couldn't exactly describe. He was sure Inuyasha would say there was a smell or a heat or something that gave the jewel away, but for Miroku the Shikon no Tama felt more like a—almost like a shift in reality or space. It just felt like there was something there that didn't exactly belong. Like a presence. Like another person, almost. Or a monster.
"Good." There was a long stretch of silence as Kagome looked out the window, watching the scenery blur by. "So… Is the plan to just take the jewel out whenever we want to use it as bait and hope that eventually Naraku himself or one of his lackeys comes after me?"
"Pretty much."
"Good plan," she muttered, a wry smile twisting her face.
"Got a better one?"
"…No." Without missing a beat, she changed the topic, and Miroku could hear the frustration in her voice. "Naraku should have made his move back in Rochester, back when he first escaped from hell, instead of just dropping me safe and sound in Kikyou's apartment after wiping my memories."
Although it wasn't exactly an uplifting thought, Miroku said honestly, "He must want a challenge. Maybe he's waiting for you to get stronger."
"Arrogant son of a—"
Before she could finish her (frustrated and confused) exclamation, Kagome was cut off by Shippou. He surprised them by piping up, his voice hoarse with sleep. "I bet it was that Kagura lady who saved you or told Naraku to leave you alone."
Stunned by his childish insight (and realizing that they should really stop discussing these things in front of him), Kagome ruffled Shippou's hair. "That could be it," she said. When Miroku glanced at her in the rearview mirror with upturned eyebrows, she smiled at the hunter. "Think about it. Kagura probably talked him into thinking it would be a ton of fun to kill me once I'm, you know, Super Priestess or whatever. I'm going to owe her so much when this is all over."
She didn't come right out and say it, but Kagome already had an idea of how she could repay the demoness. The general idea of it, at least, if not the details. First, she would forgive Kagura for the massacre that had happened in her hometown. Second, she would find a way to free her from Naraku's control.
As Kagome fell into an uneasy silence in the backseat, Miroku looked at the odometer on his dashboard and realized just how close they were to their destination. Well, actually, how close they were to the stop he had decided they needed to make en route to their destination.
Conveniently, the city where Kagome and Sango used to live was on the way from the hunter's town to Mrs. Higurashi's house, where they would be dropping Shippou off. This was convenient only because that meant the gang could visit the old asylum and try to rustle up some clues.
"Think we'll ever get our phones—"
The way Kagome bit off her own question made Miroku wince, knowing that she had looked out the window while talking. He carefully didn't look in the rearview mirror because he didn't want to see the look on her face as she realized where they were going. It had been a long time and the road was pretty ordinary, but he was sure the asylum would be burned into her memory for the rest of her life. It had been the turning point in her life, the day everything she knew was redefined. Miroku knew that feeling—he remembered every single moment of the day he had first learned of demons, right down to the smell of blood when the monster had killed the man who had raised him. Sango had been eased into this life while Inuyasha and Shippou had never known anything else, but the two of them, Kagome and Miroku, had been tossed headfirst into the nightmare.
There was still a long stretch of woods between them and the asylum, but they could already see the turn-of-the-century roof peeking over the treetops. Without another word, Kagome prodded Sango awake as Miroku pinched Inuyasha's arm until the half-demon sat up with a jolt. The moment the half-demon's eyes landed on the building in the distance, his already dark look turned darker.
Clearly, no one was happy with Miroku's surprise.
Unfortunately, when they got there, there wasn't a whole lot of new information on Naraku or his allies. The asylum was just as decrepit and creepy, set back from the road and surrounded by gnarled trees. Now, though, the front door was hanging off its hinges. (Inuyasha blamed Sesshoumaru for that; he was certain his older brother had chosen to kick the door in rather than get his precious hands dirty by touching the doorknob.) The layer of dust was thick but disturbed. There had been a lot of traffic in the past several months.
"I bet it's a mecca for demons now," Miroku guessed, examining a fresh set of gouges in the foyer left by something with really big claws.
"What do you mean?" Sango asked, hanging back and eyeing the asylum with distrust. She had never seen it before, and it was much worse than she had imagined. A chill ran down her spine as if someone had brushed an icy finger across her back. She shivered, frowned, and then clutched Kirara closer to her chest like a lifeline.
"Naraku was just a spirit—a powerful one but still pretty common. He went through a transformation in hell, but he will always be tied to this place," the hunter explained, running his palm along the door frame. He suddenly flinched and pulled away, staring down at a splinter. "This building has to be a great source of power now; demons and monsters will flock here, hoping for the same—uh—good luck."
"It's a dump," Inuyasha countered, kicking a wall roughly with his steel-toed boot. The plaster crumbled around his foot. "I say we burn it down."
"Yeah… and start a forest fire," Kagome joked dryly. She slipped her fingers into the crook of his elbow and tugged him away from the now-buckled wall. With her free hand, she brushed her fingertips against his cheek, trying to smooth out his worry. "We could use it as bait. Maybe Naraku or his people will come back here."
The half-demon made a noise in his throat that she couldn't quite decipher. "Well, we've got time to think about it. We still have several hours to go before we can drop the kid off," he answered finally, but it was clear to everyone that his burst of anger had faded at Kagome's touch.
"Do I really have to?"
"Yes," Kagome answered Shippou immediately before ruffling his hair in an easy, affectionate way. "You'll like Mama, I promise."
The light around them, broken from filtering through treetops, bled red with the setting sun.
"Let's get out of here before nightfall," Sango suggested, already turning for the exit. She hoped the others couldn't see how uncomfortable the asylum made her. It was embarrassing that after all they had been through an empty building was the thing that actually scared her. But, it was more than that—the asylum was a mystery, an open-ended question linked to Naraku. It represented everything that was wrong with their lives. "I say we stay the night in the city and go to Kagome's mom's house in the morning."
"Too bad Kaede's still with the hunters and not back home; I guess we'll have to find a hotel," Kagome lamented. As she followed her best friend out of the asylum, she threaded her fingers with Inuyasha's and pulled him along in her wake. He stumbled after her, much to Shippou and Miroku's amusement.
The group disappeared into the woods, the asylum empty and foreboding behind them.
"It's not exactly the Hilton," Kagome mumbled, dropping a duffle bag on top of one of the beds in the girls' room. She ignored the sound of her pistol clanking against something else inside. "At least it's not another motel."
"It's gross," Shippou announced honestly, grimacing at a questionable stain in the carpet. Overhead, the ceiling and crown moldings were cracked, and carved angels—in disrepair and with flaking paint—leered down at them. The walls were yellowed with age, and the floorboards creaked with every other step.
Sango moved aside the curtains and peered at the street eight stories down. As she watched, most people walked right past the shabby hotel entrance. One person, however, broke away from the crowd and stepped toward the front of the building. It was hard to see much from that distance, but her best guess was that it was a tall man with dark hair. Even as she peeked between the curtains, the person looked up, the pale oval of his face pointed right in her direction. Unnerved, Sango let the curtain drop and stepped back.
"What's up?" Kagome asked, rubbing at the corner of her eye with her fist. She yawned wide enough that her jaw cracked. In her pink sweater and sock-covered feet, she looked like a child.
"Take a nap, Sleeping Beauty," Sango suggested, giving her best friend's shoulder a squeeze. She dodged Kagome's question since, really, nothing had happened. It had just been a coincidence. Eight stories was a long way up—the man probably couldn't even see her looking out the window. "I think I'm going to look around a little. Shippou, want to come with?"
"Nah," he mumbled, mimicking Kagome's yawn. His big, dewy eyes blinked up at the women. "I'll nap some, too."
"Suit yourselves," the brunette muttered, more than ready to take advantage of being out of the car. "I have my key, so lock the door behind me."
"Hey, be quiet when you come back. We'll probably be out for the night," Kagome reminded her, already shimmying out of her jeans. They fell in a pile around her feet before she kicked them out of the way. She'd deal with laundry in the morning—hopefully there was a washer and dryer somewhere in the hotel for guests.
Sango smothered a laugh, thinking that even pantsless, Kagome still managed to look innocent. "When are we going to switch up these bogus sleeping arrangements? Poor Inuyasha, trapped in a room with that pervert while you prance around half-naked."
"Oh, be quiet," Kagome grumbled, collapsing on top of the bed. She didn't even bother to pull the covers over herself. "There's a child in the room."
"I don't mind if you're not wearing pants," Shippou told Kagome seriously before climbing up onto the bed (with some difficulty; he was barely two feet tall after all) and curled up on top of a pillow.
Unable to help herself, Sango howled with laughter as she left the room. Once she was in the hallway, she tried the doorknob. Satisfied that Kagome was locked safe and sound inside, Sango walked away.
Shippou woke up sometime later that evening. With the curtains pulled, the hotel room was pitch black. Even with his heightened senses, it took the kit a full minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He lay very still, comforted by the sound of Kagome's gentle and steady breathing next to him. For a moment—just a moment—he closed his eyes and pretended that it was his mother or father sleeping next to him. That moment passed quickly.
"Kagome?" Shippou whispered, prodding her with his small hand. He was so tiny that he could easily have curled up in the space between her face and where her arm bent over the pillow. The woman murmured something in her sleep and rolled over, burrowing deeper into her pillow.
With a frown, the fox hoisted himself out of bed and fell to the floor with a soft, "Oof!" Thanks to his reflexes, he landed on his feet. The other bed was empty; Sango hadn't returned yet. Kirara, however, rose from where she had been curled up asleep by the door, waiting for her master to come back.
Shippou dragged a chair over to the door and hopped up, not letting his height be a disadvantage. He opened the door and jumped through the doorway as Kirara slipped into the hallway behind him. He heard the dry click as the lock triggered behind them—he hoped he ran into Sango somewhere or Kagome answered if he knocked. Inuyasha and Miroku's room was across the hall anyway, so it didn't even register that he might have trouble getting back in.
The hallway was deserted. The hotel had been almost empty when they checked in, but now it seemed cut off from the rest of the world. Shippou felt a shiver run down his spine, but he shook the eerie feeling off. It wasn't like he couldn't defend himself, especially with Kirara by his side. Plus, there was an entire team of monster hunters within shouting distance.
The lights along the wall were spaced far apart, and the light bulbs were dim. Several of them flickered, throwing shadows across the faded wallpaper. Factor in the cobwebs, the creaking floorboards somewhere else in the building, and the emptiness, and Shippou almost felt afraid.
But that moment was when he saw Kagome standing at the other end of the hallway.
Not only did Shippou know for a fact that Kagome was asleep in the room behind him, but he also knew it was very strange that she was standing in a rundown hotel in early spring wearing a bright yellow sundress and no shoes.
Weirder still, Shippou followed her as she rounded the corner with a giggle. Only part of him wondered why. With a growl, Kirara followed behind him, her fangs bared.
There was nothing, really, that woke Kagome up.
One moment she was fast asleep, dreamless, and the next, her eyes flew open as her heart raced with panic. For several long seconds, she clung to her pillow, her ears straining for some sound or sign that something was wrong. Instead, there was nothing.
Her chest aching, Kagome sat up. The night pressed against her eyes, so dark that the blackness looked blood red instead.
Part of her wanted to call out for Sango or Shippou, but the complete silence in the room told her that she was alone. No matter how strong Kagome had grown over the past several months, the encounter with Kaguya had set her back in self-confidence and bravery.
Because, even if no one else was saying it, Kagome knew they were all worried about how big of a scar the possession had left on her. Kaguya was still out there—did she still have control over Kagome; was it only lying dormant?
Slowly, Kagome swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the hardwood floor. Once she was standing, it took a minute of feeling around to find her jeans and another minute to find her boots, both of which she slipped on quickly, thankful that she was still wearing socks. She didn't even bother to turn on the light as she moved out the door and into the hallway, a little confused about why there was a chair in her way that hadn't been there before. Only after she patted down her pockets and found the second room key did she let the door shut behind her.
It was gloomy, but at least the hallway had some lights. In the distance, she could hear people moving, their shifting weight causing the floor to creak both above and below where she stood. Instead of comforting her, knowing that there were other people roaming the halls but not knowing who or where or why spooked her.
Her heartbeat picked up again, her mouth open as she breathed in and out small puffs of air. As she watched, her breaths hung in the air, visible like she was standing outside in the middle of winter. Unnerved, she forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose instead.
The first thing she did was knock on the boys' door, dancing from foot to foot in the hall. After two tries and no response, she knew she was out of luck. They were either dead asleep or out wandering, just like Sango. Officially alone—which had so far proven to be bad for her health—Kagome chewed on her bottom lip. She could explore the hotel, hoping she'd run into one of her friends and stay safe in the meantime, or she could head back to the room and settle down for the night.
Before she could really decide one way or the other, she caught sight of some movement from the corner of her eye, and she whirled around to find that she was no longer alone in the hallway. Less than twenty feet away stood another woman, one Kagome recognized. It was so unexpected—and, okay, impossible—that the girl could actually feel her jaw drop in surprise. But, there was no mistaking it. She knew those serious gray eyes, set in a beautiful but expressionless face.
"Kikyou?" she whispered, watching her breath rise to the ceiling in an icy puff of air. In answer, the lights mounted on the walls flickered and then sputtered out, temporarily throwing the hallway into darkness before they flared bright again.
Thankfully, the figure of the woman hadn't moved closer or disappeared or anything, which would have given Kagome a heart attack. Instead, the corners of Kikyou's mouth lifted in a reserved smile, and she beckoned the girl toward her.
"Kagome," she said, her voice echoing eerily in the enclosed space. "Come with me. I need to show you something."
"Okay," the girl agreed warily. She felt something tug at her consciousness, and she wondered, once again, how much control she had over her own mind. Was this Kaguya's doing? No, it didn't feel the same as before. But, somehow, there was definitely something trying to persuade her, to push her into following Kikyou.
There were three things that Kagome needed to find out. One, how was Kikyou even there? Kagome had—well, she wasn't exactly sure what she had done to Kikyou, but it had definitely ended the zombie's second life. Two, what on earth could Kikyou possibly need to show her in some hotel that was, as far as Kagome knew, completely unrelated to the dead woman? Finally, three, what had happened to her friends?
Following Kikyou seemed like the best way to find answers to these questions.
At that very moment, Inuyasha was locked in the bathroom of his own hotel room.
Vaguely, he thought he heard someone knocking, but he wasn't sure. Since their arrival in the city, he had been in a haze. His head felt thick, like his thoughts were molten and sluggish. His throat, mouth, and fingers ached, and his skin was flushed. He hadn't even noticed when Miroku had left the room, saying something about checking on the girls.
That had to have been hours ago.
With each passing minute, his hands and head throbbed harder. It was like fire was running through his veins, making it impossible to even think.
His eyes burning, Inuyasha reached up and grabbed the edge of the sink. The ceramic cracked in his grip, splintering under his elongated nails. He hauled himself upright, leaning his shoulder heavily against the wall as he used one hand to turn on the cold water. He needed to splash his face—to get rid of the heat that burned his eyes, his skin, his teeth.
When he finally forced his eyes to the mirror, he staggered backward. In his rush to get away from his own reflection, he tripped into the claw foot bathtub—but the impact barely registered. To keep from screaming, he bit into his own arm. His blood, so very hot, filled his mouth, and he tried not to choke on it as he smothered one shout after another.
There had been a monster looking out of that mirror, one with Inuyasha's nose and his hair and his ears, but everything else was distorted and dark.
He looked like the things he killed.
With a strangled yell, he lurched out of the bathtub and pulled the door open, ripping it off its hinges and splintering the frame. And, suddenly, there was Kagome, standing next to the bed—looking so soft and vulnerable, her expression torn between horror and surprise at his appearance.
Before she could say a word—before he could do anything to her—he threw himself sideways out the window. The glass shattered around him, but he couldn't feel the weightlessness as he plummeted eight stories to the ground. All he could see was Kagome's horrified face.
All he could taste was blood.
With an exasperated sigh, Miroku leaned against the wall. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to massage away his brewing headache. It was becoming a gesture he was very familiar with. At the edge of his mind, he could feel something powerful prodding, wanting to force its way through and take his thoughts for a joyride.
Thankfully, years of meditation and spiritual training had given him the strength to resist the mental hijacking. Still, it gave him a headache.
He had spent the last three hours trying to navigate the hotel. Every time he opened a door or turned a corner, he ended up in an identical hallway. Miroku had seen four Sangos, two Inuyashas, and one Kagome so far. At first, they had been mysterious and aloof, trying to lure him into following them. Eventually, they broke into frantic gestures and pleading. But Miroku resisted the temptation to go—refused to let magic take over. Because it was a trap.
Obviously.
Something was separating their group, leading them somewhere that would probably end with their deaths. Whatever this something was, it could take the form of the people known to its victims. It could read emotion and reflect fear. It wasn't a monster or demon—it felt different.
"Crap," he muttered as yet another Sango flickered into existence next to him and tugged at his sleeve.
He needed to save the others, but he couldn't find his way back.
Which was, he thought, probably his own barrier of fear that he needed to break through to defeat the illusion. Even without giving up control, he had already been tricked.
"Sango—"
"No," she snapped childishly, doubling her pace. She careened around a corner—only to find herself in an identical hallway. She could hear his footsteps behind her. He was keeping his distance, but not by much. He was a foot taller than her, which meant he could easily keep up as she tried to escape.
His voice pleading, he tried again, "Sango, please, we need to talk."
The woman hunched her shoulders, this close to clapping her hands over her ears like a little girl just to block out his words. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists and shoved them into her pockets. She should have known—back when she was in the hotel room and that man was looking up at her from the street. He had seen her. He had hunted her down.
There was no way this was happening, no way it was even real. She had to have fallen asleep or something. Because he was dead. A year earlier, she would have given anything to have seen him again—his stern features, his intimidating stature, his rumbling, booming voice. He had loomed large in her memories, which made him all the less intimidating in person. Especially now that she knew he wasn't the impressing, amazing man she had always thought him to be.
"Sango," he began, heaving a great sigh. Now he sounded so weary and exhausted. Just like he had in life. "You are acting like a child."
"Shut up!" She refused to look over her shoulder, to let him catch up.
Her father was back from the dead.
If he had even died in the first place, she thought bitterly. Maybe he had faked his own death all those years ago. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised. All her life, he had lied to her, covered up their family history and her heritage.
What else had he hidden from her?
So, instead of facing her ghosts—literally, it seemed—Sango charged ahead, cursing the obviously haunted hotel. Where were the others? Were they all trapped in their own mazes, facing something just like this? Or was it just her, dealing with her dead father who (and she never thought she would say this) she would rather had just stayed dead.
"Young lady—"
And this—this, of all things—was what finally got her to turn around. Sango spun on her heel, the sudden change in direction and momentum causing her ponytail to smack the wall. Her fingernails bit into the palm of her hand, but the sharp pain did little to bring her back to her senses.
"You don't get to do this," she said to the ghost—her father. "This is not happening because you're dead. You lied to me. You lied to Kohaku." To her infinite horror, her voice actually cracked when she said her brother's name. She imagined his young freckled face, the expression he would have when (if) she ever told him that everything they had ever believed about their father was a lie. "I'm glad you're dead."
The man, ghost, her father (whatever he was) actually took a step back, as if she had slapped him. "You don't mean that."
"Really? Because do you know what I've been thinking lately? If you hadn't held back, if you had been honest with me, if you had taught me all the things you knew about demon hunting, maybe my life wouldn't be such a mess right now. Kagome's my best friend, and half the time, I can't do anything but stand around and watch her get attacked over and over again. Everyone else here, even Shippou, inherited something from their family to make them stronger—but you've left me empty handed. A well-trained demon hunter with centuries of knowledge would have been perfect in these kinds of situations, but instead they only have me. And I'm starting to worry that that's not good enough."
She meant every word. She hadn't really given it much thought, other than a silent struggle to appear fine in front of the others, but all of the 'what if's had been circling her head, pulling her deeper into a sense of self-doubt and helplessness.
But now that she knew what was wrong, she knew how to deal with it.
It was time to train harder, to learn more, to discover as much about her family as she could so that it would stop hanging over her head. Weak was the one thing Sango did not do well.
So she squared her shoulders and walked right through her father—
Who wasn't her father at all, just an illusion that turned to mist at her touch.
And when she reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, it was finally a different hallway, and she could see her hotel door once again.
But there was already somebody there.
Once again, it was a familiar face—another tall man with dark hair. And once again, the sight of him made her heart pound. This time, though, it was definitely for different reasons than when her fake-father had ambushed her. Sango stumbled to a stop, putting her hand to her chest as though that would actually help her interpret what she was feeling.
"Miroku?" she asked, half fearing the hunter was another illusion. "Is that really you?"
Which is when he whirled on her.
"For fuck's sake—not another one!"
This surprised her more than if he had physically struck her. "Excuse me?" she demanded sharply, her voice hoarse from yelling at her 'father' only moments earlier.
Quicker than her eye could follow, Miroku pulled a gun from a hidden holster and thrust it in her direction, his finger hovering over the trigger. He was obviously frustrated—his heavy eyebrows were drawn in tight over his eyes, which looked stormier than she had ever seen them. Coupled with the tense set of his shoulders and his angry voice, Sango actually took a step back. For the first time ever, it struck her—
Miroku was a hunter.
He had fought, killed, lied, struggled, survived for years in the dangerous world under which she had been suffocating after only a few months.
And for her—for all of them—he had always offered a calm, good-humored, wise facade, even though he had been thrust into that world alone with nothing but a lot of practice at lying and some spiritual mediation under his belt. But under all that flirting and joking was a very dangerous man. Who was pointing a gun at her.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sango shouted, lifting her hands in front of her body like they could actually stop a bullet. "Hang on a second, Miroku, it's me."
"Oh, they're all you," he retorted, jerking the pistol around in a nonchalant manner that made her heart leap to her throat. Oh god, he'd lost it.
"What do you mean all—Miroku, it's me. Sango. Don't tell me the ghosts this crazy place has been making you face were all me? Because I had to face my father, who I currently hate since I can't reconcile my past memories of him with what I've learned, so if you're seeing me, then that must mean—"
The words just wouldn't stop. It was like verbal vomit, just pouring out and baring her soul to this man—the man who might possibly hate her, if he was seeing illusions of her running around just as she had seen her deadbeat dad.
"The problem isn't that I hate you—or Sango, whoever—the problem is that I lo—really care about you," he corrected her, the anger starting to leach out of his voice, replaced by exhaustion. She could only imagine how she looked, probably pale and trembling and exhausted herself after fighting her own (inner) demons. "Just like I care about Inuyasha and Kagome."
"If you're looking for the kind of relationship that involves four people, I'm not gonna lie… I'm out."
"…Sango?"
Running a tired hand through her hair, she took a step forward, her eyes still on the gun. "Yeah."
"For real?"
"Yeah," she repeated. "Please tell me you've figured out this nuthouse."
Finally, Miroku lowered his gun. In seconds, he seemed to deflate, melting back into the amiable man she had gotten to know over the past few months. Even as she watched, he plastered a friendly smile on his face. It only looked a little fake. "Naturally, this hotel is showing us illusions—manifestations of our fears. We must either conquer those fears or be led to our deaths by them."
"Oh, naturally," Sango repeated, dryly. "So, your fear was…?"
"Not being able to get to the people I care about in time, to save them. I'm sure it's a residual fear from my childhood, from the death of my parents and guardian," he explained easily, slipping the gun back into its holster as if he hadn't just threatened to shoot her in the face.
"That's surprisingly sweet."
"My dear, you are only just beginning to understand the very depths of my—"
"Oh, shut up," she said, cupping his jaw and dragging him down to her level for a too aggressive kiss that left them both gasping for air. It ended with him staring longingly at her, so she shifted her eyes away, afraid she'd give in and be distracted from their real goal. "Seen the others yet?"
"Just illusions of them. They're probably still trapped in their own fears."
With a sigh, Sango pressed her back to the wall, realizing that they were standing in front of her hotel room. Somehow, they had managed to break free. "I'm guessing this isn't a monster or a demon. How do we save everyone?"
"We don't," Miroku responded immediately. When she sent him a sharp look, he smiled apologetically at her. "Unfortunately, I think it's up to them to save themselves this time."
When Inuyasha woke up, his first thought was that he didn't hurt all that much considering he'd flung himself headfirst through an eighth story window. His second thought, unsurprisingly, was about Kagome.
He shot straight up and immediately clapped his hands to his skull as his vision swam. His entire body was sore, and his blood still felt strangely sluggish in his veins. He wondered, vaguely, if he'd been poisoned. But underneath all the aching and confusion, he felt a strange power lurking, as if once the pain faded, he'd be stronger—invincible even. All Inuyasha had to do was bear this temporary suffering, and then he could become—
What, exactly? That monster in the mirror? Could he live with that? Could Kagome?
This line of questioning brought him back to the biggest question of all—Where was Kagome? Was she okay? Would she even let him touch her after she'd seen him that way?
His headache worsening by the second, Inuyasha looked around, realizing that against all reasoning, he was sitting in the middle of the hotel hallway. Someone could have rescued him. Or, more likely, he was trapped in some kind of a pocket dimension that—Well, Miroku would have been able to explain it. All Inuyasha knew was that he was hurt, he'd scared Kagome, and the lights were flickering. The last part normally meant there was a spirit around.
"Suck it up," he growled at himself as he climbed to his feet, wobbling a little.
These were the worst kinds of hunts. Not only had he not been expecting one (it seemed like the monsters found them more often than they found the monsters these days), but there was no obvious bad guy to fight. It was all psychological and mind tricks and shit like that. Things Miroku was good at. And just Inuyasha's luck, the human hunter was nowhere to be found.
"Kagome?" he called out, quietly at first. Hearing how soft his voice was, he took a deep breath and bellowed, "Kagome!"
Nothing.
Had it even been her he'd seen earlier? His mind had been pretty messed up…
There were no scents to follow. The hotel smelt like an old—and very empty—building.
Before he could get much farther, pain shot through him. Inuyasha bent double, clawing at his own stomach like he could break open his body and dig the pain out. His claws and fangs tore through his skin and gums, feeling heavy and foreign. But now, now he could smell her—
Kagome.
Scrambling after 'Kagome,' Shippou tried to catch his breath and sort through his thoughts at the same time. Kirara trotted along beside him obediently, the fur along her spine sticking up in tufts as a growl reverberated in her tiny chest. The woman moved quickly ahead of them, pausing occasionally to look over her shoulder to make sure they were still behind her. They had been passing through identical hallway after identical hallway for ages.
There were times when he could hear people moving around somewhere else in the hotel. At one point, he'd heard distant growling, and it had sounded an awful lot like a grown demon, the kind his parents had always kept him away from—uncivilized beasts who listened only to their bloodlust. It had made his heart skip a beat, and the image of his father protecting their family from the Thunder Brothers left him with buckling knees. There was a reason why humans told scary stories about demons.
After another ten minutes of aimless wandering, Shippou realized that the woman—who may or may not be the real Kagome—was merely killing time.
Which meant something was going to happen.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), he didn't have to wait much longer.
As Shippou rounded yet another corner, he found the Kagome he had been following had disappeared, but another Kagome had taken her place. This one looked a lot more like his Kagome. She wasn't giggling and wearing a sundress; instead, she looked frazzled and rumpled from sleep, her sweater twisted out of shape and a piece of her hair sticking up in the back.
"Kagome?" he called out, keeping his distance in case the hotel had thrown another surprise his way. To keep his hands from trembling, he curled his hands into fists and shoved them deep into his pockets. Easily, he could hear Inuyasha mocking him in his head—the way the half-demon teased him about being small and weak as a weird way to boost the fox's self-esteem. Whenever the older demon had made Shippou sound like a weakling, it made Shippou want to prove him wrong.
Unsurprisingly, Kagome ignored his timid voice. She was focused on someone else, someone Shippou could barely see from where he stood. It looked like another woman of similar height, stature, and coloring as Kagome. Her voice was deeper, though, all calm and smooth as she talked about things that didn't make sense to the kit.
"—suffering for months," he heard the woman say. Shippou hated her on sight, realizing how she made Kagome feel uncomfortable and scared. "You should have helped me, and yet you cast me into the depths of hell."
Stubbornly, Kagome shook her head. The movement tossed her messy hair over her shoulder, exposing a sliver of her face to Shippou. He saw tear tracks on her cheeks, which made him hate this stranger even more.
"You were already suffering," Kagome pointed out, her voice strained. Shippou couldn't tell if she believed her own words or not. "Kikyou, you told me yourself that you wanted—that you needed to move on because even death was better than being a, well, zombie… And for the record, you cast me into the depths of hell first."
Ah, Shippou thought. They were talking about that time Naraku escaped from hell by using the gateway that had been opened when Kikyou, a zombie who had been manipulated by a power-zealous witch, tried to get rid of Kagome by banishing her to hell. Kikyou was Kaede's sister. Really, it all sounded very complicated to him, but he did know one thing—Kagome had tried to make everything right by helping Kikyou move on.
So how was Kikyou standing in this hallway accusing Kagome of doing something wrong?
"Kagome," Shippou tried again, raising his voice. "I don't think that's really that Kikyou lady."
"I know," she surprised him by answering, not even turning around.
"Oh," he answered slowly. Then, unable to hide his confusion, he asked, "Then why are you arguing with her?"
"Kikyou or not, she's right. I didn't know what I was doing when I 'took care' of that zombie. I still don't know what I'm doing—I could have sent her somewhere even worse. I should have done more research; I should have waited until after I had learned more or been trained by someone. I mean, I couldn't even fend off Kaguya last week. How could I even think I could save Kikyou? How can I save anyone? I'm… I'm useless."
Child or not, hearing Kagome talk like that broke Shippou's heart. "Hang on a second," he began, concerned that she still wouldn't turn and look at him, even though they had both established that 'Kikyou' was only an illusion. Maybe she was dangerous; Kirara was hissing at her. "Everyone feels that way. I bet even Inuyasha feels that way sometimes. Miroku and Sango, too. We all want to help people, but we just—we just can't sometimes. We do our best. And we fail. But we keep trying."
The reminder of what happened to his parents must have snapped Kagome out of whatever pity-party she was letting herself indulge in because she flinched and finally turned to look at him.
"It's why we're the good guys, right?" Shippou asked.
With a startled laugh, Kagome opened her mouth to respond—
And it was in that split second that a fully demonized Inuyasha launched himself at (and through) 'Kikyou,' startling both Kagome and Shippou so much that they screamed. Shippou could tell immediately that something was wrong. Inuyasha smelled like blood and power, and his snarling was muffled by his overly elongated fangs. But, even as Kirara hissed and growled and Shippou tried to summon fox fire in the palms of his hands, Kagome nervously laughed and took a step toward the hunter.
Her form flickering from the sudden collision with the demon, 'Kikyou' sent one last sad (yet somehow pleased) smile at Shippou and then promptly blinked out of existence. That was what the illusions had all been working toward, getting Shippou, Kirara, and Kagome in the same room as a demon Inuyasha. Shippou understood just how deadly their plan was when the demon whirled on them, his red and feral eyes highlighted by his blood-soaked shirt.
"Kagome," the kit warned nervously, closing the gap between them and tugging on her sweater. "Kagome, I don't think that's such a good—"
"Don't be silly, Shippou," she said, her voice strained. Her hands were shaking, betraying her own fear. "It's just Inuyasha."
With a burst of flames, Kirara emerged in her full form. The demon cat snarled at Inuyasha, shielding Shippou and Kagome with her own body. She snapped at him, her fangs piercing the air just inches from his claws. The two snarled and growled at one another, throwing around threats in a language that Shippou could no longer understand.
"What's wrong with him?" Shippou demanded, holding tight to Kagome's ankle.
"It's fine," Kagome insisted. "I can snap him out of this."
"Don't tell me this isn't the first time he's gone full demon!"
"Second time, as far as I know. It was awhile ago." There was a brief pause when she refused to meet the kit's eyes. "He got hurt and… He doesn't know, Shippou. Miroku and I managed to snap him out of it. I can do it again."
"These are the kinds of secrets that get people killed!" Shippou accused. "How are you going to fix this?"
Inuyasha took a step forward, his eyes shifting from Kirara to Shippou to Kagome, as if assessing who was the biggest threat. One of his fangs sliced through his bottom lip, but he merely brushed at his face with the back of his arm, smearing more blood onto his sleeve. This was worse than the time before, back with Goshinki. This time, it looked like he had fought the change, had hurt himself trying to stay himself.
Kagome's heart clenched.
There was no Miroku to pistol-whip the sense back into him. "He won't hurt us," Kagome said, but even she could hear her voice shake with uncertainty. "He won't hurt me. I just have to remind him of who I am."
"How? With what? A kiss? This isn't a fairy tale, Kagome. I wouldn't put my face anywhere near that," the kit hissed, gesturing at the demon's bloody, snarling mouth. For a panicked moment, Shippou buried his face into her jeans, trying to shut everything out. He hated that hotel. He hated those stupid 'Kagome' and 'Kikyou' illusions. He couldn't watch Kagome die, be ripped apart while he just stood there. Logically, he knew it would hurt Inuyasha just as much to do it as it would hurt Shippou to watch. Kagome was their most important person. But logic wasn't going to fix things. Inuyasha wasn't himself, he was just a stupid—
"He's a demon!" Shippou realized, pulling away from Kagome just enough to look up at her face. "You fight demons."
"No, Shippou, he's Inuyasha," she countered desperately. Whatever tough facade she had been trying to put on was crumbling and fast. The only thing standing between her and certain death was Kirara, and the cat demon wasn't going to keep Inuyasha at bay for much longer. He was obviously out for blood. If nothing else, she hoped she could stall him long enough for Shippou to get away. Surely Kirara could—
"No, he's not Inuyasha. I mean, not really, not right now he isn't. He's a full demon; there's no human half to protect him anymore."
"Shippou, we already established this, I can't just go around zapping people and hoping I'm doing some good. I have no idea what I'm really doing, what if I hurt him?" Even as she said this, Inuyasha bent double, digging his claws into his own skin, tearing at something they couldn't see, clawing at his own temples, tears leaking out of his blood-red eyes.
"It's because you're too afraid," Shippou insisted, punching her calf with his tiny fist until she looked down at him. They were wasting time; Inuyasha couldn't fight himself off for much longer. "You're too afraid of yourself, of hurting others. You're too afraid of trying. Kagome, even if you don't believe in yourself, I believe in you. Isn't that enough? You can do this. Just try. Please, please just try."
So she closed her eyes. She forgot about Kaguya and the mind control and the terrible things she had done while possessed. She forgot about Naraku and his accomplices. She forgot about all the dead and missing hunters, the innocent bystanders, the demons ravaging their country. She even forgot about herself. And instead she focused on Shippou. Poor, little, orphan Shippou who had watched his parents slaughtered, who had stood up to Sesshoumaru to ask for help for revenge, who had bonded with Kagome and Inuyasha in the darkest of times, who had looked so happy to see her again when they reunited in the hunters' town, who had acted as bait with her.
And she felt it. For the first time in a long time, she felt an inner warmth and glow, the lavender light that told her she was meant for more than wearing ugly nursing shoes and snapping photos in abandoned buildings all by herself. The light that told her that, hell, maybe she was one of the good guys.
Before she could lose that feeling again, still with her eyes closed, she reached out until she felt her fingertips brush against Inuyasha's chest. She remembered the way he had smiled at her when they got in the car that morning. She remembered how all it took was her touch to brush away his worry and anger when they were in the asylum.
He didn't exactly stand still and let her help him. No, he reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist, dug in with his claws until she bled. But still, it was like he held back. He didn't strike her. He didn't attack. He let her wrap her little lavender glow around him, let it smooth away his anger and bloodlust, let her remind him that he was actually just a little bit human.
And when they both opened their eyes, they found that they were smiling at one another with relief.
Then Inuyasha, finally himself, collapsed at her feet.
"Are you sure we can't kill it?" Sango demanded an hour later, glaring at the hotel entrance.
Miroku stepped back to admire his handiwork, a little sign reading 'Condemned' that he had strung across the front door. He and Inuyasha had boarded up the entrance after the group confirmed that there were no other guests besides themselves. Everything had been an illusion since the beginning, from the hotel clerk to the bellboy.
"Yes, I'm sure," he answered the brunette, tugging the end of her ponytail affectionately. "It's not a demon or a monster, just a spirit. The Spirit of Mount Azusa, if I'm not mistaken."
"So, you seriously saw that we were staying at Azusa Hotel and didn't put two and two together," Sango muttered, swatting his hand away. "Or did you think it would be fun to watch us all face our fears?"
"For the record, I don't know absolutely everything, all of the time," the hunter replied with a frown. "I mean, I know almost everything, but even I can't be expected to hear the name of a hotel and know immediately that it's the home of a spirit that will try to lure us to our deaths using our greatest fears."
With a sigh, Sango leaned against him, folding into his side as he brought his arm up around her shoulders. "Don't worry, I plan on brushing up on all this demonology and lore. Hopefully next time, between the two of us, we can figure out what's going on before we get trapped in an endless maze of identical corridors and dead fathers."
"If nothing else, at least we know more about each other now. And ourselves," Inuyasha grumbled as he slammed the trunk shut on the Hummer. Their bags were loaded inside, and he was wearing a clean shirt. He was exhausted and sore, but at least he was back to himself. Miroku had explained the fear thing to them as soon as he and Sango had stumbled across them. Sango was afraid of being weak; Miroku was afraid of not being able to save those he cared about; Shippou was afraid of seeing the ones he loved die and leave him all alone again; Kagome had been afraid of herself, was still afraid of not being able to save everyone through some fault of her own; and Inuyasha was afraid of turning into the very thing he hunted.
"No more secrets," Kagome promised, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his shoulder. "Next time one of us turns into a horrific demon that could tear everyone apart, we tell each other immediately. Deal?"
"Deal," Miroku agreed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Anyone else have any secrets they need to get out in the open?" He looked to his best friend first, remember the way the half-demon had avoided everyone's eyes after coming back from rescuing Kagome. There was still something there that needed to be said.
However, Inuyasha turned his eyes skyward, refusing to meet anyone's gazes. "Nope," he said, "I'm good. For now, anyway."
Shippou raised his hand in the air, waving it around until he got everyone's attention. "I don't want to go to Kagome's mom's house; I want to stay with you guys!"
"After we get rid of Naraku," Inuyasha responded. "Maybe."
"You're such a bully," the kit grumbled with a very Inuyasha-like scowl. "I expect you to take care of this stupid Naraku situation soon, before I get bored," he told them all very seriously. When the adults just shuffled their feet, he worried about how they'd do without him there to watch their backs. He shared a worried look with Kirara, who just purred and rubbed against his side in reassurance. At least one of them knew what she was doing. "Alright, everyone get in the car. It's time to get this show on the road!"