Chapter 2 – Gratitude
Seething anger rolled off the irate woman in turbulent waves, and he certainly understood her rage. However, it was becoming irksome, and he was not one to back down should she decide to continue this insensible challenge.
He remained acutely impassive as he spoke, tone remaining levelled and assured. "It was not intentional."
Brows furrowed further, the demeanour of the indifferent answer adding more fuel to the fire. Fury laced her voice as much as it did her scowling features. "Not int – is that all you have to say for what you've done? I should – "
"Sango," interjected the person whose arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her back from storming up to the Lord of the West. "Sesshomaru-sama said it was unintentional, and I'm sure he's–"
"Lay off, Monk!" she shot back while twisting forcefully out of his solid grip.
Sango gained only a few steps before Miroku latched onto her again in attempt to prevent further escalation. Regardless of her experience, should any violence come to pass, it was without a doubt a deadly end. He knew the revered Lord only had so much patience, and it was a wonder his calmness did not dissipate while being accosted. At this moment, he was extremely grateful for their continued alliance.
Heedless of tact, Sango was far rasher than he as she continued struggling against the gripping hold while glaring daggers at the stoic youkai. No, she was not done with her anger as all inhibitions regarding her own safety were tossed to the wind. "How could you have let this happen?"
Cold eyes narrowed at the accusatory tone; a miniscule indication of his thinning patience. "I did not let this happen. She is alive."
As if his affirmation of her friend's viability acquitted liability. She only sneered at such a blatant dismissal. Preparing for another verbal tirade, the next words nearly tumbled out before the flapping of tatami mats diverted her notice. Turning towards the distraction, all fight melted upon the tired eyes of the old woman.
Feeling the sudden laxness of the previously raging warrior, Miroku finally released his hold, facing Kaede as she stepped out from the weather-worn hut. The first thing he noticed was the grimness shadowing the old miko, and he suddenly felt a drop in his chest.
"How is she?" he asked, somewhat surprised at the quivering of his own voice as the words echoed his concern.
Kaede took a steadying breath before gazing at the crowd at her doorstep. She was not surprised they were waiting within such proximity as the hours had gradually crawled into the evening dusk. Though wearier, it was evident that the initial distress from their arrival had not faded in the least. Anguish still laced the young features of the taijiya, while the monk did his best to adorn an air of collectedness – as he always had when confronting such situations. The only one lacking any apparent grievances was the apathetic daiyoukai, but that was to be expected.
She decided to face the worried young woman first.
"Ye may go in and see her, though she has yet to wake." Receiving a quick nod, Kaede then bowed slightly in addressing the regal Lord. "Ye ward is patched up, if ye would also like to come inside and see her."
Sango was the first to surge forth into the hut, wasting no time in attending to her friend. Within moments, a gasp escaped parted lips, hand rising to her chest at the clenched feeling upon the sight within. Lying unconscious on a small futon was the one whom she considered a sister; her family. Tears began to sting gazing brown orbs as she took in the form half hidden beneath a thin blanket. Soon, the flood in her eyes began to pool as she peered upon the layers of blood-soaked bandages covering the right half of the girl's injured face. It was almost too much to bear. Sango wanted to run forward and hold her dear friend, but instead trained a few wobbly steps, bringing her to kneel at the bedside with a hand tentatively reaching out to rest upon the slumbering form. Within one shaky breath, she felt the floods trickle and fall.
"…Oh Kagome…"
Miroku had followed Kaede the rest of the way in, pulling up beside the grieving brunette as she sobbed silently. A reassuring hand rested on her shoulder then, it was his way of giving her space yet allowing her to be strong. She didn't need his hugs and displays of affection; she needed his strength, and this was how he would offer support. This was all he could supply at the moment to help.
As Sango relinquished her held-back tears, Miroku looked to his right, spotting Rin in a deep slumber on a separate futon. The sound of fluttering flaps and the omnipresent hum of youki signalled of Sesshomaru's entrance behind him. From the corner of his eye, he watched silently as the daiyoukai made his way towards his ward, regal stature crouching gently to place a hand on the girl's forehead in a fatherly gesture.
It wasn't as surprising a sight as it once used to be. Over the years, they had come to realize the utter devotion the growing child held towards her Lord, and the protectiveness exhibited through the minute actions of the Lord himself. Ever since the quaint village of Edo came under the protection of the West, Rin's visit had become more frequent, allowing them to gleam more insight into the unexpected relationship between the two.
During Sesshomaru's routine patrols, he would often render his ward under Kagome's care in the village, during which Rin started occupying her time with the local children and attending classes. Kagome had been ecstatic for each of the young girl's visit, and had dedicated her time to watching over her and teaching her things that a youkai Lord would not have been able to teach. Of course, that's not to say he wasn't capable. Surely with all the wealth of his stature, a suitable tutor would have been found with ease. Nonetheless, Kagome had taken upon herself to watch over the joyful Rin, just as she had done with the young kit throughout the years.
Reflecting back on the day's event, a sullen guilt rove through Miroku's ever-optimistic outlook and wavered his resolve. He should have been with them, should have accompanied them on their brief trek to gather herbs for the infirmary. A promise of protection he failed to uphold. For the umpteenth time that day, he was grateful of Sesshomaru's presence. If not for the Western Lord's intervention, regardless of Sango's displeasure, the resulting outcome would have been far, far worse.
A flutter of silk brought him out of his silent reverie, once again watching through his wayward glance as the daiyoukai carefully rose to his feet, carrying the still-slumbering girl in his arms. A bandaged arm lay limply on her chest, held loosely in place with a make-shift sling winding behind her neck.
It had been a horrid sight, earlier on in the day, when Sesshomaru had first approached with the miko draped lifelessly in his arms and a stumbling Rin walking by his side. His youki had been furious then, and Miroku had immediately sensed him heading towards the village long before his steady arrival at Kaede's abode. It was a rare occurrence for the composed youkai to be so unhinged, and as the group neared, he finally understood the gravity of the situation. Fearing the worst, the sight of Kagome's injuries did not ease the torment that took hold, latching on to the hope for his dear friend's plight.
Miroku lifted his eyes to meet an inscrutable gaze. "Thank you, Sesshomaru-sama, for protecting Kagome and bringing her back to us."
He had voiced his thanks earlier, but deemed it appropriate to reiterate his appreciation, regardless of the circumstance of how the injuries came to be. It was barely debatable; a far better outcome compared to death. And for that, he expressed his eternal gratitude.
A slight incline of a pointed chin was the single acknowledgement for the monk before Sesshomaru made his leave, exiting the somber hut without a spoken word.
"Ye should rest, it is late. I will let ye know of Kagome's progress and when she wakes."
Two pairs of eyes landed upon Kaede; one watery and tear-stained, the other with lugubrious weariness.
"I can't leave her like this." Sango's voice was but a whisper, sorrow echoing loudly nonetheless. "I want to stay by her side."
The old miko lowered into a seated position next to the irori, gently stoking fading embers to reignite yellowing flames. "Ye must also rest, child. It would do no good to burden ye self by staying awake." Kaede sighed. Strong willed ye may be, but Kagome will need the strength of her friends.
Miroku spoke up then, anticipating the rebuttal to come by the wrinkling of the taijiya's brows. "Kaede's right, Sango. We should go back to the guest hut to rest. If Kagome wakes and sees how tired we are, she'll feel bad that we stayed up. She doesn't need the added worry. You know how she is."
"But Miro-"
"No, you know I'm right." He cut her off, knowing his negotiation skills were unmatched. Though he did not often sway his friends using this tactic, it was needed in this situation. "We will visit as soon as we are up, and then we can stay by her side all of tomorrow, after you get some rest."
A heavy sigh breached, knowing he was right. As with most things, he was the voice of reason, and she knew to trust his judgement. Sango glanced back at her best friend. Kagome's once luscious hair was now strewn over the pillow's edge in a matted mess. The gentle rise and fall of her chest under the crumpled blanket, the soft whisper of air upon each breath, and the cold touch of her hand still held in Sango's palms strung together a gut-wrenching image contrasting the usual vibrant woman they cherished.
With careful reluctance, Sango gave Kagome's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, rising to her feet while wiping away the dried remains of salt-stained tears. "We'll be back at first light tomorrow."
Kaede nodded her acknowledgement as the two made their way out the hut, but not before Miroku mouthed a silent thanks for the old miko's assistance and hospitality.