Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Chapter 24: Of Nightmares

He was dissolving into blue flames. Rikaru could not feel his body, only the dance, and flicker of the fire. He was weightless, timeless. He was one with the fire.

No! He couldn't remember anything, and yet, he knew that something was wrong. There should be something else besides the fire. He wasn't fire. He was something else. Something denser, colder, more solid. But, what? What was he?

He tried to think, but the flames distracted him. There was nothing in the world except the beautiful, enticing flames. Why shouldn't he accept the dissolution, become one with the fire? Why was that wrong? What was this feeling? What was it called?

A whimper. He recognized it—sound. There was more in the world than just fire. And the sound—his sound. He had made it. He had whimpered. Why? He was—afraid. But, why was he afraid? The fire was beautiful—so beautiful.

The world around him abruptly convulsed with a sneeze. Rikaru gasped for breath, coughed, and realized his face was soaked with water, which was icy cold. Which was also in his ears. He shook his head violently, trying to get rid of the water.

"Ah. Good foxling. Found the way out of the flames, did you? Not bad. Not bad."

The voice was unfamiliar and odd, sounding rather like water over stone. "What? Who are you?" He opened his eyes, but saw only flames.

"I? I am who I am, little fox. You fell into me, you and the hanyo. I quenched your flames, and brought you here."

Here? Fell? Hanyo?

Inuyasha!

Memory and rage exploded. He remembered. Shinkubi shattered, falling in a ruin of bleeding flesh. Akeneka falling, Eijimaru tumbling, inexpert wings beating wildly. And the hanyo, laughing, laughing!

Hate! Rage! They howled within him, transforming to blue flame. Burn the hanyo! Burn him, kill him! Thoughts began to dissolve.

Water smacked his face again and descended over his body. "Stupid foxling. Fire cannot control fire. Will you lose me my deal with the great tree? Foolish foxling."

Rikaru coughed and wheezed, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to parse the words of the other, trying to think through the fiery haze of his hate and his rage. "Fire … can't control fire? What...what do you mean?"

"Not quite yet lost, foxling?" He felt a wave of cold water wash over his back. "Good. Fire feeds fire, foolish foxling, as air feeds air, and water feeds water. The highest forms of power cannot be controlled by the power itself, but only by its opposite. Fire needs ice, and ice needs fire. Find your ice, foxling, if you would have your revenge. Find your ice, or burn up in your own flames, foxling.

"Your choice."

Rikaru shivered from the cold soaking his fur, panting. He tried not to think of his anger and hate, struggling to concentrate on the words of the other.

Find his ice? What did that mean?

… … …

Cheiriyo bolted through the opening. Inuyasha was on his back, heels digging into the ground, his hands held up and arched into claws, shaking. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was screaming as if he were in utter agony.

The healer went to his knees beside the screaming human, and felt helpless. There was no visible sign of injury, so why was the boy screaming? Was it a nightmare? Hesitantly, he gently gripped the boy's shoulder and shook him. "Inuyasha-sama?" he called. "Wake up. It's just a nightmare. You're safe." He shook him again, several times, but the screams continued, unabated. "What do I do?" muttered the youkai, feeling Myoga on his shoulder. "He won't wake up. I don't want to hurt him, but why is he screaming?"

"He's not asleep," said Myoga, dropping down to Inuyasha's neck. He hesitated, then plunged his snout through the human's skin. He sucked several moments before pulling away with a shudder and a groan, which could not be heard over the screams.

"Oh, enough!" Cheiriyo jerked back, startled, as water splashed across Inuyasha's face from a wooden water-bottle with its top tore off. The healer snapped his head up, to see Akeneka standing on Inuyasha's other side, emptied container in her hand, an annoyed expression on her face. He opened his mouth to remonstrate, and then realized that Inuyasha had fallen quiet.

He returned his attention to the human. "Inuyasha," he said, shaking the shoulders again. "Inuyasha, what's wrong?"

The boy whimpered. "I'm blind! I'm blind, and my hands, my hands! I pulled them out, and my hands, the pain, it hurts!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, black hair," snapped Akeneka, going to her knees. "Just open your eyes!"

"I can't, it hurts, it hurts!"

Cheiriyo gave the young kitsune a frown then returned his attention to Inuyasha. Leaning over the boy, he carefully touched the boy's face, smoothing back sweat-matted bangs, then pressing the palm of his hand gently but firmly against the side of the face.

"Inuyasha, tell me what's happening," he said, taking a guess, that the boy was somehow caught in a waking nightmare. "I'm here to help you—tell me what's happening."

The human whimpered, panting. "They blinded me. Saw them. Couldn't move fast, everything's broken. Arms. Legs. Flew. Flew into eyes—no!" His body jerked, almost convulsing. "Get them out! Get them out!" he shrieked, voice climbing towards a scream.

"Inuyasha!" Remembering that Inuyasha had mentioned being blinded at one point during his imprisonment, taking a hint from the effects of the water, the youkai reached down and started lightly slapping the boy's face. "Inuyasha, can you hear me? Inuyasha, talk to me. Listen to me. Talk to me."

The human went still again, sniffing. "Can't—smell."

"You're in your human form, Inuyasha," said Cheiriyo. "It's all right, I'm here to help you. Understand?"

"It hurts."

"Yes. I'm trying to help you. Do you understand? Answer me."

"I—hear you."

"Good." He placed both hands around Inuyasha's head. "Can you feel my hands?"

A moment of hesitation. "I—yes."

"Does it hurt? Concentrate on my hands. Do they hurt?"

Inuyasha panted several breaths. "Don't—think so."

"Good. Now, listen to me. I want to open your eyes."

"No! I can't! I'm blind—it hurts!"

"It hurts, and I want you to open them anyway. I know you can."

"I can't! It hurts! They dove into my eyes, I pulled them out, they drove needles through my hands, dozens, and dozens of needles, but I wouldn't let go, I used youki to kill them, except for the round thing, it wouldn't go away, and it hurts, everything hurts!"

"Yes, you can, Inuyasha," said Cheiriyo, hardening his voice. "If you open your eyes, they should stop hurting."

"Huh?"

"I believe you are in a nightmare, Inuyasha. If you can open your eyes, you will know you are not where the nightmare tells you. Open your eyes."

A long moment of silence passed. Cheiriyo felt the jaw muscles beneath the base of his hands tense. And then, Inuyasha's eyes opened.

A moment later, they widened, staring. "I—I see you! You're—Ch-Cheiriyo?"

"Yes. Does it still hurt? Your eyes? Your hands?"

"I…" Dark gray eyes with vertical pupils slid out of focus. "No." Inuyasha's voice was soft, wondering. He pulled a hand in before his eyes and inspected it, turning it back and forth. "I don't—hurt. Just—feel tired."

"That's what you should be feeling," Cheiriyo observed, sitting back. Inuyasha turned his head a little to watch him, looking confused.

"I think that somehow, your mind traveled back to that moment when you were blinded by those youkai, and made you think it was happening again," he said, trying to explain. "I do not know whether this is a thing of humans: I have not heard of this kind of occurrence among youkai, except under a direct spell. Which I do not sense."

Inuyasha stared at him a long moment, and then looked away. "Stinking blood turds," he muttered under his breath. "Stupid, weak human blood."

"Human blood is not weak," Cheiriyo corrected. "Different."

"Keh. Shows what you know."

Cheiriyo had no answer. Inuyasha rolled over onto his side, putting his back to the healer, pulling his upper arm over his head. The healer frowned, not liking the human's implicit rejection of his presence. But, before he could puzzle out how he should respond, a small voice spoke up.

"Inuyasha-sama, what did you mean, by the 'round thing' that wouldn't go away?"

… … …

Kikyo turned a slow circle, examining her hut. It was completely bare, the wood gleaming wetly with its last scrubbing. The harsh tang of lye soap penetrated the air, underlain by hints of incense used in purification. There was not even a suggestion of the blood that had once splattered the floor and walls, nor any sense of the pain and death that had been soaked through that blood.

Idly, she wondered what Tsubaki had killed to create the original impression that she had killed Inuyasha. A moment later, she mentally shrugged it off, and smiled at Miyatsu.

"You've done a wonderful job, Miyatsu," she said. "I really didn't think it would possible, to get the blood stains out."

He gave her a grin, then spread his chapped, scabbed hands. "I think my hands have become much more virtuous than they used to be. If I had known how much effort it took to get blood stains out of wood…"

She couldn't help smiling back. "Had you ever cleaned wood before?"

"I did my part washing the temple floor with the other novices, of course," he replied. "But, the floor was cleaned every day—it never was dirty. Compared to this…" He rolled his eyes.

Kikyo had to swallow a laugh. She felt a bit sorry for him: she strongly suspected that he came from a wealthy family, and that he had probably avoided the dirtiest of the chores in the temple of his novitiate. He had been appalled at the suggestion that the hut should be burnt down, as irreparable. But, no one, especially the women, were willing to go inside the hut to attempt to clean it, even after Miyatsu had worked his most powerful purification spells. His open incredulity at their unwillingness had led to the suggestion that he do the cleansing, if he thought it was doable. He had bristled at the suggestion and agreed. And so, for the last six days, he had spent almost half of each day scrubbing.

At least he had only used part of the first day, before going to Satsuki, the headman's wife, and asking for advice on cleaning.

"So," she asked, "would you still insist on trying the save the hut, if you had it to do over?"

He laughed. "My puffed up sense of pride says 'yes', of course. After all, it is a waste of wood, in what is a poor village. And is not fixing, rather than destroying, a virtuous thing?" He turned his hands over and examined the nails. "But, I fear my hands would be eager to grasp the first torch." He grimaced, though the dark-blue eyes glancing at her were twinkling. "What woman would want these poor rough, scabbed hands on her soft skin?"

Her mouth twitched. "You haven't asked any of them what they use to keep their skin from chapping?"

"Why, no." For a moment, he looked chagrined, and then he shook his head and smiled. "What a wonderful idea, my lady Kikyo. May I ask whether you have any such? And would you be willing to salve these hands that have worked so hard to your benefit?"

Oddly, she didn't find his flirting as irritating as she usually did. "I don't have any at the moment," she said with a smile and a head-shake. "I bought my last jar from Amaya. I'm sure she has more: perhaps she would be willing to massage those poor, abused hands?"

"Amaya? Are you being cruel, woman? Do you know what she threatened to do to my hands the other day?"

"She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that bad? She's worse than my mother's aunt!"

She laughed. "If she's that bad, I'll buy a jar from her and work on your hands myself. It's small enough payment, for what you've done here."

The laughter in his face abruptly dropped away, and he took a step toward her. "You would … do this for me, Kikyo-sama?"

She looked into those odd, dark-blue eyes and felt—something. Her breath caught, and she felt hot in places, and almost dizzy—

The next moment, Kikyo looked away, her face flaming, as she recognized what she felt. How could she feel attraction for a man? She was a miko. And Inuyasha—how many days had it been since he fled? Nine? Ten? This was—this was wrong!

"I am a healer, houshi-sama," she said, trying to school her voice to cool disinterest. "Even small injuries should not be ignored."

She gripped her crutch and began to limp out of the hut, refusing to look at him again, hoping her reddened face would pale before anyone saw it.

… … …

They had questioned him for awhile, until it became obvious that Inuyasha was so exhausted that he was contradicting himself with every other sentence, and clearly not understanding half of what they were asking.

Cheiriyo was the first to realize, and could have kicked himself to not have realized the obvious sooner. "Bokuseno, Myoga, we need to let Inuyasha sleep. We surely don't need all the answers right now."

"No sleep," objected Inuyasha who was sitting up, a forgotten flask of water in his hands. "T-too many y-youkai. T-too many … nightmares."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" demanded Myoga. "You're perfectly safe with Bokuseno."

"It's not surprising, if he feels unsafe, Myoga," chided Cheiriyo. He glanced towards the current location of Bokuseno's leafy 'face.' "I have no potion to keep a human dreamless, Bokuseno-sama. Perhaps there is a spell?"

"The sapling's air reeks of the need for dormancy," rustled the tree. "Undisturbed dormancy will be achieved."

"But, he hasn't told us enough!" objected Myoga. "If what he felt was the pearl that had been hidden in his eye, we've got to find out where that attack happened! All he's told us so far, is that this Tsubaki was a black priestess who had youkai inside her!"

"And that she was served by a tanuki," pointed out Cheiriyo.

"Tanuki are common—we need more information."

"The combination of energies is uncommon. The forest will learn where this bent human lived. The message spreads, and the human will sleep." From one of the over-arching branches, a bud popped out, swelled, bloomed, and then dropped. Pale, creamy petals glowed softly as it drifted down and touched down on tangled, black hair. Inuyasha twitched, eyes widening momentarily, but then he slumped, eyes sliding shut before he could realize what was happening. The ground rippled, sending the boy onto his side, and then his back, as the green, moss-like stuff beneath him thickened, and pale, limber branches shot out of the ground and began to weave a cocoon around him. Giving an inarticulate protest, Myoga made to jump through the weaving to Inuyasha's side: a growth smacked him in midair, sending him flying towards Cheiriyo who caught him.

The leafy cocoon was finished in a very short period of time. "Inuyasha will sleep until dawn," stated the old tree, his 'face' giving the other three youkai a good version of a gimlet stare. "The forest will know what is to be known by then."

"And if Inuyasha's youkai blood returns?" asked Cheiriyo.

"He will be constrained."

… … …

Youki winds whirled from above. Sesshomaru tilted his head up, then remained still, recognizing the source. In the dimming light, three broad-winged shapes rocketed high above the earth, silver wings coruscating with rainbows where the setting sun struck them. They were almost overhead when they dove, straight towards him. They drove straight down for about third of the height. Then, with bare flicks of youki and feather tips, they went into a spiral dance around a common center that directly drew a line to Sesshomaru's head. He watched them come, impassive, even as it began to look as if they must surely dash themselves into the ground.

At the last moment, their wings and youki flared. They pulled out of their dives at speeds impossible for mortal birds, rose, angled towards each other, and hurled into barrel rolls. Avoiding collisions by hairbreadths, they whirled around each other, and with a final flare of youki, transformed to their other shapes. White-haired, silver-eyed, garbed in white trimmed with blue, red, or black, the three drifted down to the ground, facing Sesshomaru.

He knew them, of course. He could remember their laughter and taunts, when, as a puppy, he had been learning to use his youki to fly. Their teasing had infuriated him then, though he had long since given up his anger, recognizing that his father, and their mother had surely allowed it, as a goad to speed his own development.

He acknowledged them and their skill with a nod. "You have danced for your mother, Shiraumou."

The single female of the three, taller than either of her brothers, returned the nod. "She died to bring you word of the invasion by the panther clans."

"Yes."

"Bokuseno-sama has sent word to us, of his need for our wings," she said. "My brothers will go on to answer his call. I will stay."

"For what reason?"

Her expression was not as perfect as his own; annoyance flickered, but over-set by a much deeper rage. "The panthers tortured and mortally wounded our mother. As eldest, it is my right to claim blood-vengeance."

"As you will." He acknowledged her intention with a very slight nod. His normal composure was unable to restrain his curiosity from glancing at the shorter brothers. "Did the Bokuseno explain his need?"

"Only that there was a great need, and a great treasure which must be retrieved," she said. "Our family is honored to be asked for service."

Doing the bidding of a tree, no matter how great, was not something he would consider an honor, but Shesshomaru would never reveal his thought.

"There is camp here," he said instead, "It is guarded; the panthers will not come take any unaware, should your brothers desire to rest."

"Thank-you, but no," she replied. "They have time to reach Bokuseno's branches before light dims entirely, if they push at speed."

"Then, I will not ask for them to tarry." He gave the two hawks a full look and a nod. They bowed in turn, turned and bowed again to their sister, then leaped away from the ground. Their flare of youki was much less as they transformed back to bird-form, Sesshomaru noted, watching them climb steeply almost due north. That was not the direction in which Bokuseno stood, but he approved the misdirection. He knew the panthers were close enough to be watching the flight. Even though he could not guess what Bokuseno's real purpose in sending for them was, he knew it made sense to avoid directing the enemy's attention to the real direction of their flight.

It was only later that night, as he watched the stars flickering in the sky dome by themselves, that he wondered if Bokuseno's request had anything to do with Inuyasha.

Of course not. While the dirty, disreputable hanyo clearly had needs, they could hardly be classified 'great.' And what possible treasure might the youngster have obtained (and stupidly lost) that could be considered 'great.'

Ridiculous.

Author's Note: Argh, delayed again! I was just blocking on Rikaru's scene, which I had skipped over during the November marathon. Minor character, true, but he still has his role to play in this story, so I needed to get it done.

Also, I would note that chapter 11 of "Ice and Steel", "War Leader", takes place somewhere just before the last scene in this chapter.

(01/29/2012)