Warnings for this chapter: strong language, threats of death, suicidal-ish tendencies, references to familial death, alcohol abuse, references to and examples of abusive parenting, negative self-perception, and buckets and buckets of angst. And a horny Miroku. A horny Miroku is always dangerous. Stay safe everyone
Sango held Hiraikotsu at the ready, waiting for the demon to crawl out from under the house. The smoke billowed past her face and she kept her breathing even through her mask. Unfortunately, those around her weren't so lucky. Many of the villagers had retreated to a safe distance against the overwhelming smell of incense. Miroku was behind her, standing guard over Inuyasha. The hanyou had insisted that he could handle it, but Miroku's expression warned Sango otherwise. Sure enough, Inuyasha was curled in a ball on the ground, holding his nose with his eyes crammed shut. Sango hoped this would be over quickly, for all their sakes.
There was one person enjoying themselves immensely, though. When Sango had suggested that he be responsible for fanning the bundle of incense, Shippo had been utterly ecstatic. He'd adopted a serious look of responsibility which was frequently interrupted by excited smiles. Kirara sat next to him on the other side of the house, supervising. It was adorable and she was happy to let him help.
"Eugh, it stinks!" Inuyasha moaned, and Miroku patted his back sympathetically. He glanced around the gathering crowd, most of whom were watching keenly for the demise of the rat demon that had been destroying their crops and livestock. A few were grumbling about the smoke and there were also a few unkind glances being thrown at Inuyasha. The familiar feeling of eyes watching him raised his instincts and he sought out the one responsible. His stomach clenched.
An absolutely stunning woman was watching him, the hint of a smirk on her lips. As their eyes met she dipped her head slightly, peering at him through her lashes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she wanted, and he was more than happy to oblige. The familiar urge rose in his gut, driving him forward. He glanced at Sango as the demon was flushed out from under the house. She dispatched it easily, as he knew she would. She could handle whatever came next. Now was his chance to slip away.
With one last reassuring pat to Inuyasha's back, he made his way through the crowd. He caught sight of Shippo and Kirara coming around the side of the house, carrying the doused bundle of incense. The crowd pressed closer to see the dead rat demon, now that the smoke was finally clearing. No one paid him any mind as he followed the gorgeous woman to the edge of the town. She glanced back at him periodically, smiling shyly and blushing. His head spun with arousal as he followed her, not believing his good luck. It had been months. Not that the opportunity hadn't presented itself before, mind, but he was wary of taking anything too far with any of the women in Kaede's village, and there hadn't been an opportunity with anyone else on their travels. He was more than ready to change that.
Once they were a safe distance from the village, she turned to face him. He stopped a respectable distance from her, not wanting to appear too pushy. Or needy. Even though he needed. Her coy smile was driving him mad. She took a tentative step towards him, and he stuck his staff into the ground, leaving both hands free for whatever may come.
"I appreciate you following me out here, hoshi-sama," she said shyly, not meeting his eyes. "I spied you in the crowd and just knew I had to meet you."
"I'm glad you did," he replied smoothly. "It's not often I meet such a radiant woman."
She blushed and looked away. "Nor I such a handsome monk. I must confess, I'm quite new to this. I only recently came to this village, after my castle was destroyed."
He took a step forward, concerned for the note of pain in her voice. "You're here alone?"
"I used to be the heir to a prominent House," she smiled sadly. "But it was not to be. Famine, war, and disease drove us to poverty. My once mighty clan was brought to ruin. Now I am all that is left."
"I'm so sorry," he breathed, and she shifted closer.
"It was indeed painful, but that is why I wanted to meet you. In order to restore my family, I wish to bear the child of a strong lord."
That surprised him. Despite his usual line, most women weren't looking to have a child out of wedlock with a complete stranger. He'd had to delicately navigate the few who'd been willing. Desire burned in his stomach and a familiar voice sounded in his head, reminding him of his family duty. His family's situation. His family's curse. The well-worn debate raged in his mind. He knew what he was supposed to do, but once again he hesitated. It wasn't as though he could settle down with her to raise his child. There was no guarantee that he would have defeated Naraku – or still be alive himself – by the time the child was born. Was that what he wanted his legacy to be?
He shook his head, clearing the melancholy thoughts. Now was not the time for such things. He had a beautiful woman of high birth telling him that of all the men in the area she'd chosen him. That wasn't an opportunity that presented itself every day.
"I must admit," he grinned charmingly. "You have great taste."
She breathed out a laugh and took another step closer, reaching out tentatively to run a hand down his chest. "Will you do me the honour?"
As she pressed close to him, Miroku wrapped his arms around her, hardly believing his luck. Indeed, if life had taught him anything, it was that situations like this were simply too good to be true. But he wanted desperately to believe it. It was exactly the situation that Mushin always described, the perfect way to fulfill his duty. The child of a princess would be well looked after, and kami, he would enjoy the process of making that child. It was his own stupid inhibitions getting in his way again, nothing more. He could do this. He would do this.
He honestly didn't know if it was a relief or not when the clawed forelegs of a giant mantis burst from her back. He opened his senses and yes, sure enough, a strong wave of youki washed over him. He shoved the faux-woman away from himself, reaching out and bringing the head of his staff slamming down on her face. The mantis shrieked and reared back, bringing one of its bladed forelegs crashing to the ground where he stood. Miroku leapt back easily, holding his staff out protectively. The mantis convulsed and shifted, the rest of its giant body emerging from the tattered skin of the woman. Her body hung limply from the mantis's head before dropping to the ground.
"So you disguised yourself as a woman," Miroku called up to the mantis. "I'll have you know, that's rude and very inconsiderate!"
"I devoured the innards of the real princess," the mantis hissed, bringing up a foreleg to strike at him again.
Miroku danced back, avoiding both the limbs and the head as it lunged down to bite at him. He jumped, rolling over the demon's head and sliding his way down its back before landing on his feet. It bought him enough distance to cast his staff aside and pull the mala beads from around his hand. As the mantis turned to face him once more, he braced himself and opened the wind tunnel. The mantis shrieked as it was pulled into the void, stretching out its forelimbs to try and gain purchase. Miroku's stomach dropped at the flailing limbs and the dagger-like spines that protruded from them. They shrunk from the force of the wind tunnel, as everything else did, but his instincts were screaming at him that it wasn't enough. He felt them slice through his palm like a red-hot blade, sending burning lines up fire up through his arm.
He swore and stumbled back, hastily sealing the wind tunnel again. He waited for a long moment, every muscle in his body going rigid as a freezing dread seeped through him, clashing with the fiery pain reaching up his arm. But nothing happened. There was no burst of wind from his hand, no sucking void vying to claim his life just yet. He let out a shaky breath, grasping his aching wrist with his left hand. Not today, then. But those claws had torn at his skin, marred the edges of the gaping hole in his palm. Nothing like that had ever happened before. What did it mean? Was he alright? Were the others safe? Would the wind tunnel burst open without warning and catch them all off guard?
He ground his teeth and slid the purple cloth stuffed into his tekkou back over the hole, tucking it into the ring on his middle finger. The cloth wasn't strictly necessary, nor was the tekkou covering his arm. The mala beads sealed the wind tunnel away, and the rest was essentially decorative, but Miroku found that he preferred not having the source of his death staring at him every day. At least this way he could ignore it, keep up the pretenses that he was an actual person and not a walking deathtrap. He picked up his staff and began making his way back to the village, carefully rebuilding the walls around himself. No need to concern the others with something like this.
Sango deposited Inuyasha on the floor of their room at the inn, easing his weight off her shoulders. He was still nauseous and disoriented from the smoke, though Shippo assured her that he was simply overwhelmed and would be fine later. The villagers had kindly offered them a place to stay for the night in exchange for their services, so they could take the time they needed to recover. Not that it had been at all a difficult job, mind, but it was still greatly appreciated. It saved them having to use their emergency funds, as Miroku deemed them. Speaking of which… Sango glanced around, but the monk was nowhere to be seen. Odd. He'd been standing right beside Inuyasha earlier.
Inuyasha was mumbling something through the hands still clamped over his mouth, and Sango leaned in to hear better. Most of the words were garbled but she could make out a familiar name. She rubbed his back awkwardly, trying to be reassuring. "I don't know where he is. I was just wondering that, myself."
"Who, Miroku?" Shippo asked, glancing up from the bowl of dumplings the villagers had gifted them with. "He followed after some strange woman."
"What?" Sango asked, glancing between Inuyasha and Shippo's calm expression. "He left while we were slaying demons? Why would he do that? Do you think there's some trouble with the woman?"
Shippo shrugged, chomping down on another dumpling. "Not trouble in terms of fighting, no. She was really beautiful. He probably gave her the line about having his firstborn child."
"What? Have his child?" Sango grimaced, trying to come to terms with this unsavory bit of news. Shippo seemed unconcerned, which made her think that this was not new behaviour. And that made her decidedly uneasy. She thought the flirting with the Water Goddess had been a joke! Wasn't he supposed to be a monk?
Inuyasha groaned pitifully again and Sango frowned. She couldn't exactly leave him like this, but something felt off about the whole situation. Shippo was busy devouring the bowl of dumplings, so she beckoned Kirara over.
"I'm not saying anything's wrong," she started slowly. "But can you check up on Miroku? Just make sure he's safe." She frowned, considering. "And no need to stick around if he's…otherwise occupied."
Kirara's ears flicked back and her upper lip curled, but she turned and slipped out the door. Sango leaned back on her heels, feeling a little better. Miroku was probably fine, anyway. He'd let them know if there was anything to be worried about. She focused on getting Inuyasha to drink some tea and keeping Shippo from eating all the dumplings. The innkeepers came by to thank them, promising that more food would be brought to them food. They were an old couple, full of wrinkles and kind smiles. They praised Sango for her slaying abilities and remarked that Shippo was a handsome young lad. They offered their sympathies to Inuyasha, as well, as he lay sprawled across the floor. He groaned loudly and they let him be.
It wasn't too long after that the door slid open and Miroku walked in, Kirara at his heels. He looked healthy enough, not wounded or dirty from a fight. He smiled charmingly at her and Sango was instantly frustrated with the man. He sat down next to Inuyasha, earning a grumble in acknowledgement, and turned his serene smile back to Sango.
"So the exorcism was a success," he said slowly, obviously catching something in her expression.
"No thanks to you," she snapped.
The smile fell from his lips and his brows furrowed. "I apologize. There was a situation-"
"I'm sure there was." she cut him off. "Here." She tossed a small sliver of a Jewel shard at him. "It's what caused the rat's ferocity, not that it would be a mystery to you if you'd stayed to find out. I'm going to wash. You can stay here and keep Inuyasha company."
Miroku watched her stalk out of the room, his heart leaden in his chest. He felt dirty, even though nothing untoward had happened, and his arm still burned. Shippo was strictly staying out of the issue, staring intently at his dumplings, while Kirara trotted after Sango. So he turned to Inuyasha, who was glaring at him half-heartedly from the floor.
"Do you want the story?" he asked, tucking his hands safely into the sleeves of his robes.
"Not especially," Inuyasha grumbled, looking away and closing his eyes.
He really didn't look well. He was pale and nauseous from the overwhelming scent. Miroku, too, had no stomach for food for the time being. He was drained from the battle and his skin crawled from the looks the others had given him. Needing to do something, he scooted closer to Inuyasha and gently placed a hand – his left hand – between his ears. Inuyasha hummed lightly but didn't open his eyes. They stayed like that for a long while, with Miroku's thumb occasionally brushing over Inuyasha's brow. Sango returned shortly before the innkeepers brought their food, a simple meal consisting of a bowl of rice, edamame, and miso soup. It wasn't much, but it was plenty considering the devastation caused to the village's food supply by the rat demon.
Inuyasha reluctantly hauled himself upright and shuffled over to one of the four trays of food, grabbing the extra bowl of chicken parts and placing it on the floor for Kirara. Shippo and Sango sat across from them, both eagerly starting on their meal, but neither Inuyasha nor Miroku did little more than pick at their food. Miroku was unusually quiet, but Inuyasha guessed that he was feeling guilty for abandoning them. Serves him right. It had hurt more than he cared to admit when, after Sango had killed the rat demon, he'd reached out for the monk and hadn't found him there. His sense of smell had yet to recover, leaving him off-kilter and uneasy. He'd wanted his friend nearby. Miroku could stew in it for a while longer.
Shippo cleaned his bowls quickly and began blinking between the three adults in a not-so-subtle way. Miroku immediately handed over his bowl of rice and Inuyasha exchanged a glance with Sango. Definitely a guilty conscience. Sango's eyebrows raised but she returned her attention solidly to her own food. Finally, Miroku sighed.
"I know you're upset-" he started, hands raised in a sign of peace.
"Not upset," Inuyasha instantly retorted.
"Just disappointed," Sango added.
"You've been glaring at me all evening," Miroku argued. "I'd appreciate a chance to explain myself."
"Not interested," Sango said firmly, setting down her empty bowl and walking over to the other side of the room where a bed was made up for her.
Inuyasha glared a hole into the floor and tried to figure out why he was so upset. It wasn't just that Miroku hadn't been there. He'd heard what Shippo said to Sango about the "beautiful woman" and it had set his stomach churning. He settled on disgust. Miroku's flirtations with women had always been an overzealous show of desperation, and the fact that he had left them in a fight to perform his mating ritual was simply rubbing salt in the wound. Inuyasha was almost glad that he couldn't smell anything, so he wasn't subjected to the scent of whatever Miroku had done.
Miroku lay beside Inuyasha in their half of the room, knowing that sleep wouldn't come. He hadn't been able to settle all evening, fear still creeping into his mind that the tear in his hand would spread during the night. That he would wake up to screams before they were all consumed into cold, black nothingness. On the other side of the room, separated by a screen, Sango lay sleeping with Shippo and Kirara. He knew that Sango was still angry with him – as she had every right to be – but Shippo and Kirara had sensed that something was wrong with him. Both had been sending him worried glances since his return, and more than once he'd caught them sniffing the air. He wondered if they had caught the scent of blood from the nick, or if it was his fear they smelled.
As much as his hand burned, it wasn't enough to distract him from the cold numbness that seized his chest. He remembered that day. He had known that something was wrong, even though Mushin tried to hide it. He remembered calling out, reaching desperately to where his father stood. He remembered Mushin's strong arms around him, remembered kicking and struggling to be let go, and then… The rush of wind, the pull of the void, and the final, terrified expression frozen on his father's face. He was left reaching toward nothing, unable to comprehend that his father had been taken away so suddenly, leaving only a gaping hole in the ground, his palm, and his life. Miroku stared at the swath of purple cloth, at the unseen hole that lay beneath. A familiar fear gripped his heart in its icy claws. He knew what he had to do.
When Inuyasha opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the Jewel shard and a coin purse lying in his lap. He instantly sat bolt upright, turning to where Miroku was supposed to be lying next to him. The spot was empty. A thrum of cold, hard panic washed over him and suddenly he was on his feet, tearing to the other room where Sango was sitting up, one hand reaching for Hiraikotsu even as the other rubbed sleep from her eyes. Inuyasha spun back around, taking in Miroku's scent and following down the hall. The scent trail went out the door and into the village. Inuyasha followed it as far as he could, making it as far as the edge of the forest before it suddenly mingled with another. Hachi, his mind supplied. Then the trail was gone. His ears flattened to his head as unease prickled along his back. When he stalked back to the inn, he saw Sango standing by the entrance, dressed in armour, a sleepy-looking Shippo on her shoulder. Her gaze fell on the Jewel shard grasped in his hand and her eyes widened.
"What happened?" she breathed, taking a step towards him.
"He left!" Inuyasha shot back, marching past her and into the inn. "He summoned Hachi and he left!"
"Hachi?" Sango asked, following him into their room as he began tearing through their bedding, looking for a hint as to what had occurred.
"He's a tanuki demon and Miroku's friend," Shippo whispered to Sango, both of them watching Inuyasha intently.
"Excuse me." They all whipped around to one of the old innkeepers coming in. "I hate to intrude, but that nice young monk who was with you left me a message."
"He what?" Inuyasha asked, immediately walking up to her. "When did you see him? What did he say?"
"It was some time before dawn," the old woman said. "I had just helped a late-night traveller to their room when the monk approached me. He said that he was going on a long journey, and he asked me to wish you well. He added not to worry about him, and that he may find you again in the future." She smiled up at him. "Now, isn't that nice?"
"Damnit!" Inuyasha swore, turning to pace the room. "He'll be long gone by now. Damn! What do we do?"
"Is there any way to know where he went?" Sango asked, wisely keeping her distance. "Or some way to track him?"
Inuyasha shook his head. "I can't follow a scent through the air. We could ask around, see if anyone saw what direction they went in, but if it was before dawn then I doubt anyone was even awake. Damnit!"
"He did say not to look for him," Sango pointed out, not really believing her own words. "It's possible that he was called away suddenly and will find us again once he's through."
"He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," Inuyasha snapped. "We've been travelling together too long for that. He wouldn't… He just wouldn't."
His breathing grew harsh as he stared out the door. Miroku wouldn't. They were friends – Miroku had said they were friends. Even if he'd left to chase after some woman the day before, Miroku knew the importance of their situation. He was as committed to finding the Jewels as any of them, and he'd been the one to push them to work as a team. He wouldn't just leave without a word, without at least saying goodbye. He wouldn't do that to them.
"It is odd for him to do something like that," Sango agreed. "So what do we do?"
"I don't know. I don't know!" Inuyasha began pacing once more. "We don't even know why he left. There's no reason for him to go, especially to not tell us about it! It makes no sense!"
"I don't think he was doing alright," Shippo said, moving in from the corner of the room. "He was acting pretty weird when he came back yesterday, and he smelled like he was hurt."
"What do you mean?" Sango asked, kneeling down beside him and shooting a worried glance at Inuyasha. "You think he was injured while he was away?"
"I don't think it was bad," Shippo said uncertainly. "But there was the faint scent of blood – not a lot, but a little – and it seemed like his hand was hurting. He couldn't hold his chopsticks properly so he didn't eat, and he didn't hold anything with it even though it's his dominant hand."
"That's it!" Inuyasha announced, stalking past them and out of the inn. "We're going through every person in this village until we can find someone who can tell us where he went! Come on!"
The others wasted no time in following him.
Miroku tried to meditate and slow his breathing as Hachi flew him through the air, but his mind was in turmoil. He was going home, finally after so long. It felt like a lifetime, made longer by things driving him away. He knew that Mushin was alive – he'd had Hachi fly over the temple several times in their acquaintance, just to be sure – but he hadn't seen him in years. Not since he'd left. Not since the wind tunnel had driven him away, the same problem that now brought him crawling back. He didn't even know if Mushin would be able to help him, but he had to try. He couldn't risk travelling with his friends in his current condition. He couldn't put them in danger like that.
The thought of his friends sent him further into dark thoughts. He'd been torn with indecision and guilt all night, even after summoning Hachi. He didn't know how much to tell them, if they'd even let him go if they knew. In the end he'd chosen the coward's way out, as always. He'd spent the night listening to the soft breathing of his companions and, as soon as he sensed Hachi's presence, he'd left them all that he could. The coins would keep them going for a while, if they were careful, and the Jewel was safer in their hands, anyway. His few words to the innkeepers would ensure they didn't worry about him or come looking. They didn't need him, anyway. Inuyasha and Sango were more than capable of tracking down Jewel shards, and he trusted them to complete the mission if he couldn't be there. Still, the sight of Inuyasha's face, relaxed in sleep and utterly peaceful, wouldn't leave his mind. He hoped they could forgive him.
"Miroku!" Hachi said, startling him out of his thoughts. "We're getting close! I can see it from here."
Miroku hummed, his eyes instantly finding the patch of grass amongst the forest, a perfect circle clearly visible from the sky. Mushin's temple lay just beyond, set in the plateau between two great mountains. It had been such a long time since he'd been home. Hachi set them down at the treeline and transformed back into his regular form. He peered curiously at the large crater in the ground.
"You never told me what this thing was," he said, glancing coyly over at him.
"This?" Miroku smiled, though it turned out more of a grimace. "This is my father's grave."
He turned and walked to the temple, unable to stand by the site even after so long. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hachi bow and say a quick prayer, and warmth blossomed in his chest. He toed off his sandals before stepping into the temple. The smell of incense greeted him, along with the stink of sake. He sighed.
"Master Mushin, are you there?" he called out. "It's Miroku!"
He followed the tell-tale sound of snores deeper into the temple and, sure enough, there was Mushin. The old monk was asleep on the ground, head propped up by an empty jug of sake. Miroku took a moment to look over his old master. The man hadn't aged well, face melted by years of drink and overeating. He stank of sweat, rancid food and old vomit. But he still sported his age-old moustache – the only hair he could grow on his face these days – and he looked strong, if a bit rotund. Miroku sighed and nudged the jug out from under Mushin's head, letting the short trip to the ground wake him up.
Mushin opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at him a few times before tentatively asking "Miroku?"
"Mhmm." He knelt down on one knee in front of his old master, taking in the achingly familiar face.
"I'm surprised you're still alive," Mushin continued, tactful as ever.
"I could say the same," Miroku shot back. "You're not going to live very long if you keep drinking like that."
Mushin glared up at him craftily from below his rather impressive eyebrows. "Did you come here after all this time just to lecture me?"
"No," Miroku admitted, holding out his covered hand for Mushin to inspect. "A giant mantis nicked the sides of my wind tunnel. I was wondering if you could repair it."
Mushin hummed thoughtfully, pushing himself further upright and grabbing hold of Miroku's outstretched hand. He turned it over, sharp eyes peering at the covered palm. He looked up at Miroku, brows drawn. "Too late. You're going to die tonight."
Miroku's heart stopped. Tonight? No, nonono- Not yet! It was too soon! He still had so much left to do- Inuyasha! He couldn't leave it this way, not having left with no explanation. And Sango – would they work together? Would they finish repairing the Jewel and defeat Naraku? He'd promised he'd help her avenge her family and her village. He couldn't break another promise, not like that. He had to go to them, to say goodbye – but no, he couldn't go near them. He needed to stay as far away as possible. He couldn't let them see him die this way. Inuyasha was so stubborn, and Sango was still in such pain, and little Shippo, what would- Why was Mushin smiling?
"Relax!" Mushin chided, waving a hand in his face. "I was just kidding around."
Miroku seriously considered murder. He glared daggers at the old monk and reached threateningly for his mala beads. Mushin wasn't buying it, and instead chuckled again.
"Now, now, calm down!" He reached behind him and picked up a fresh jar of sake, his face deadly serious. "I'll stitch you up, but I'm warning you – you must keep the wind tunnel covered and not use it until it is completely healed."
"And what happens if I do?" Miroku asked, thinking of all the situations in which his wind tunnel made the difference between life and death.
"The wind tunnel will spread from the nicks and will eventually consume you entirely. I will no longer be able to help you then, young man."
Miroku's lips twitched despite himself. For years, he had been "boy" – never Miroku, just boy. It seemed that Mushin had seen fit to upgrade him to "young man." What an honour.
"Now then," Mushin grumbled, pushing himself to his feet with obvious effort. "I will start gathering my medicinal herbs. Go and thoroughly purify your dirty self. Kami knows you need it."
Miroku smiled after the old monk, fond despite all reason. He'd truly missed Mushin. He walked to the back of the temple, Hachi trailing behind him. He stripped his clothes and changed into a white koromo before making his way to the waterfall which fell down the cliff behind the temple. The water from the mountain stream was as cold as ice, but at least it was fresh. He waded through the pool at the base of the waterfall to the familiar rock, which sat right underneath the full force of the falls. With Hachi plunked down safely on the nearby bank, he maneuvered onto the rock and crossed his legs, taking a deep meditative pose.
"So that drunken old man is the high monk who raised you?" Hachi asked, laying his staff across his shoulder as Miroku often did.
"That's right," Miroku smiled. "He taught me everything I know, the good and the bad."
Hachi chuckled. "He's a little rough around the edges, that's for sure, but he seems kind-hearted."
"Hm. I guess so." Miroku glanced out over the temple grounds, memories of his childhood rising in his mind. Mushin had been kind, at times. He'd certainly tried his best, raising a child that wasn't his and shouldn't have been his responsibility. Miroku knew he hadn't been easy to handle, especially when he began to question his father's habits and whereabouts. It had been worse after his death. Once the wind tunnel appeared in his hand, his childhood had essentially been over. Mushin had tried his hardest to prepare him for the harsh world. It hadn't been his fault that Miroku left. It hadn't been his fault that he stayed away for so long.
Through the heat of the afternoon, Miroku fell into a deep meditative state. The water washed away everything else until he simply existed, freezing but calm. Mushin's voice calling from the temple drew him back to himself. He made his way back inside, leaving Hachi by the door with his staff. Unease still thrummed through him, but some of the urgent fear from before had dissipated. Mushin dropped off a bowl full of crushed herbs and directed him to drink up while he gathered the tools he'd need. Miroku hesitantly sniffed the bowl, feeling some of his anxiety return. He knew this medicine, knew how quickly and deeply it induced sleep. There was a chance that he might lie down and never wake up, with one miscalculation on Mushin's part leaving them all sucked into the void. He would be uncomfortable with how much the old monk had had to drink, but he knew from experience that Mushin was safer drunk than sober. It would be fine.
The medicine was already taking effect by the time he lay down. He shivered slightly, the damp koromo clinging unpleasantly to his skin. He drifted in and out of awareness to Mushin bustling in the next room over. Thoughts moved sluggishly and unbidden in and out of his mind, most of them unpleasant. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing.
"Did you drink your medicine?" Mushin asked, suddenly by his side.
"Mm, yes, but I'm starting to feel very groggy." His tongue was thick in his mouth, words hard to form.
"Sleep," Mushin said, placing his hand over Miroku's eyes. "It will be over soon."
"Glad to hear it," Miroku murmured, already being dragged down into sleep. "'Cause I don't feel like dying just yet…"
He forced himself to let go of consciousness, to stop struggling and sink into sleep. He was safe here, after all. He was safe. But even as the world was slipping away, something deep inside, an instinct born from years on his own, whispered of danger. He cracked an eye open, just to make sure that all was well. Instead, he saw a knife falling towards him. He moved on instinct, mind heavy with black tar. Dive, roll, up! The meat cleaver bit deep into his shoulder but missed his head. He splayed across the floor, struggling to push even his upper body off the ground.
"Oh, are you still awake?" the figure of Mushin asked, but Miroku rejected the idea out of hand. Mushin would never do this. He focused his blurring vision on the old monk, vaguely making out the wispy white tendrils that floated from his mouth. Eugh.
"You're…not Mushin," he gasped, tongue unresponsive in his mouth, his vision growing foggier. "Who…who are you?"
"I am a demon worm charmer," the figure responded. "Naraku sends his regards."
"Naraku?" Oh, no. Oh, he was in trouble. He should have known that Naraku had been too quiet of late. If this had been his plan from the beginning, it was a devious one. The others were half a day's travel away and Miroku could barely move. The cold numbness that had spread throughout his body made his limbs heavy and unresponsive, and he could barely think. The combination of medicine and pain swirled in his mind. It was all he could do to push himself back against the wall, his arms struggling with the pressure of holding himself upright.
"Go now, in peace!" the demon proclaimed, swinging the meat cleaver down towards him.
Miroku threw himself backwards with all his strength, breaking the wood panel he leaned against out of the wall and crashing out onto the outside en hallway. He heard a squawk from underneath him and realized he'd landed on Hachi. Pain shot down his side as his shoulder screamed from the impact.
"Staff!" he gasped, reaching out for Hachi. The tanuki caught on immediately and shoved his staff at him. Miroku swung around just in time to block another strike from the meat cleaver. His arms shook from the impact as he fought against Mushin's considerable strength. Hachi crawled out from under him and assessed the situation with a few garbled noises. He threw a leaf at Mushin which instantly multiplied and the world was suddenly white. Miroku thought that perhaps he'd died or simply gone blind, until he felt Hachi's hands dragging him off the wood panel and hauling him over his back. He clung to the tanuki with uncooperative muscles as Hachi ran down the en and out of the trickster's smoke. Mushin was shouting after them, saying they wouldn't get away. Miroku was inclined to agree.
"Hurry," he urged as Hachi carried him away from the temple, through the clearing and heading towards the forest.
"I can't go any faster," Hachi gasped, already breathing rapidly.
"Oh no…" Miroku peered back over his shoulder as a wave of youki washed over him. Sure enough, hundreds of glowing white spheres had descended from the surrounding mountains to gather around the temple, each the curled form of a young worm demon answering the worm charmer's call. Hachi drew a shuddering breath, frozen in fear.
"Save yourself," Miroku instructed him firmly before pushing himself off the tanuki's back. He landed hard on the ground and his vision went white from pain. Hachi was reaching back for him, calling his name, but he pushed him away. "Go! I can keep them at bay myself until the medicine wears off, Hachi."
"B-but…" Hachi glanced at the hundreds of demons and back to his bleeding master, shuddering on the ground. Miroku had to admit it didn't exactly look great.
"Just go!"
"Okay!" Hachi scrambled away, making his way into the forest to escape detection from the demons. Miroku smiled at the tanuki's loyalty, but it quickly fell from his lips. He knew that he was in no shape to fight even one demon, let alone a solid hundred. There was a little time before the demons would break out of their dormant infant forms at the worm charmer's behest. He needed to use that time. With a deep breath he tried to focus the torn shreds of his consciousness, to force his mind to actually think. He needed to find a place to lay low, to wait out the paralyzing effects of the medicine as he'd told Hachi. Easier said than done.
He dragged himself forward with his hands, grimacing at the dark red stain slowly seeping from his left shoulder. A worry for a later time. He hauled himself forward one arm-length at a time, periodically glancing behind to see more and more demons gathering. As he reached forward again, his hand met nothing but air and then he was falling, tumbling and rolling down a grassy incline. He slid to a stop against something solid and tentatively looked up. The stone monument marking the centre of his father's grave stood before him. This was where his father stood while he died. How fitting.
Miroku maneuvered painfully into a seated position, resting his back against the smooth stone. He thought his father wouldn't mind. Eerie shrieks began rising from the distance, and Miroku knew his time was up. The worm demons had awoken and were hungry for his blood. He leaned back and took a deep breath, weighing his options. None of them were particularly appealing. Placing his thumbs and forefingers together, he began to meditate, pulling power deep from within himself. A faint barrier grew around him. He didn't know if he could hold out long enough for the medicine to wear off, or what he would do when it did. He didn't know if blood loss would claim him first. For the moment, he closed his eyes and deepened his breathing, hovering in between consciousness and something else. It was going to be a long day.
Sango followed after Inuyasha through the forest, debating whether or not to say something. It had taken them well into the afternoon to track down a villager who had seen Hachi flying overhead – apparently he was quite noticeable in his flight-form – and could point them in the direction Miroku had gone. Inuyasha, who had been getting increasingly agitated as the day wore on, had taken off in that direction without another word. He'd been setting a fast pace barely short of a run since then, marching through the forest with single-minded determination. Sango had chosen not to put on her travelling clothes, instead keeping her battle wear at the ready. Shippo was quiet on her shoulder, his eyes wide and solemn as he glanced between her and Inuyasha. She could understand the sentiment – Miroku had likely become like a father to him – but she had a feeling that part of the fox's apprehension stemmed from the edge of desperation that lined Inuyasha's movements.
A slight buzzing sound caught her ear and she slowed to a stop, danger rising in her mind. Inuyasha had stilled in front of them, one hand slowly reaching for his sword as he glared out into the forest. In a flash, he struck through a nearby tree, sending it crashing to the forest floor. Sango was about to scold him for his unnecessary show of temper when a giant wasp-like insect flew from the branches.
"Saimyosho!" she warned, pulling Hiraikotsu from her back. She only clipped the insect, tearing two of its wings. She growled and caught her weapon, rearing back for another pass. "This time, it's dead!"
"Wait!" Inuyasha said, voice laced with urgency. "If Naraku's spying on us then something must be happening with Miroku! We need to follow it!"
He sheathed his sword and took off at a run, not waiting for a response. Sango snatched up the carrying cloth full of clothes she'd dropped and jumped onto Kirara's back as she transformed, pulling Shippo up beside her. The insect's wavering flight continued, even as it steadily lost height. Sango prayed that it would hold off until leading them to Miroku – or Naraku, she supposed. They had been travelling for so long, desperately looking for any clue of the demon's whereabouts, but now it almost seemed inconsequential. They could find Naraku another day. Miroku was more important. More important to her. The realization hit her hard. Somehow, a lying, lecherous monk, a shrill little fox, and a grumpy hanyou had wormed their way into her heart. Great. Just great.
Inuyasha kept his eyes glued to the insect, refusing to so much as glance away. He should never have let this happen. He should have been paying closer attention, making sure his pack was safe! Instead, his friend had been drawn away from under his nose, after already being wounded without his knowledge. The mind-numbing panic that began when he found Miroku gone hadn't stopped, but instead transformed into an all-consuming, oppressive fear. He could trust that the monk could take care of himself under regular circumstances, but not like this. Not alone, wounded, against one of Naraku's plots. And he couldn't lose Miroku. It was absolutely, utterly out of the question. The monk had quickly become an essential part of his life and he would fight tooth and claw to get him back.
Frantic yelling sounded from far above them and Inuyasha froze. A large shape flew rapidly towards them, surrounded by a swarm of Saimyosho. Recognizing the form and the voice which cried out for help, Inuyasha waved his arms and shouted "Hachi!"
The tanuki crashed into the forest in front of them, transforming back into his true form and cowering into a ball as the insects buzzed around him. Inuyasha rushed forward, slashing the insects to pieces with his claws and standing protectively over the tanuki. The remaining insects rose into the air, reforming their swarm before dispersing into the sky.
"Inuyasha!" Hashi said, tugging urgently at his sleeve. "You need to help Miroku!"
"You know where he is?" Inuyasha asked, urging the others closer.
"I brought him to his old master's temple, but Master Mushin was possessed by a demon worm charmer sent by Naraku," Hachi rushed to explain. "He's surrounded by demons and he can't hold them off for long! We need to hurry!"
He leapt into the air and transformed, and Inuyasha instantly jumped on his back. He urged Sango forward and she quickly joined him with Shippo and Kirara. Hachi surged into the air, shooting towards a pair of distant mountains.
"The old monk drugged him so he couldn't move properly and attacked him with a knife," Hachi continued, every word sending a dagger into Inuyasha's chest. "He's wounded and bleeding heavily, and he doesn't even have the use of his wind tunnel against the demons."
"What's wrong with it?" Inuyasha breathed as dread, guilt, and panic all closed an icy hand around his heart.
"His hand was injured in battle. The sides of it got nicked when he tried to suck in a giant mantis." Inuyasha exchanged a shocked, guilt-ridden look with Sango. "I brought him to Mushin to get it fixed, and Mushin said if he used his wind tunnel before it healed, it would spread and kill him."
"What?" Sango gasped from behind him. "What do you mean, kill him?"
"The curse was placed on his family by Naraku. Someday it will spread too far and suck him into the void." Inuyasha bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. "How long ago did you leave him, Hachi?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
"It was late afternoon. Miroku said he could hold the demons back until the medicine wore off, but he was in rough shape."
Inuyasha glanced nervously at the sun as it slipped below the horizon. He tried to focus on all the times he'd thought Miroku was dead only to find him alive and relatively unharmed. He'd seen the monk's abilities firsthand. He was strong, and smart, and resourceful. He would be fine.
Wouldn't he?
The possibility that they were too late, that they would arrive and find Miroku's body torn apart by demons was simply not one that Inuyasha was willing to consider.
A gasp from Hachi drew his attention to the scene unfolding in front of them. A small temple sat at the edge of a clearing, and hundreds of worm demons buzzed around it. A good chunk of them had caught the scent of the approaching group, and began flying towards them in a frenzied hoard.
"Go straight through them, Hachi!" Inuyasha ordered, holding Tessaiga at the ready.
Behind him, Sango flung herself off Hachi's back and onto Kirara, swinging Hiraikotsu out to catch the first wave. She cleared a path for them as Inuyasha protected Hachi's sides. He struck with more and more powerful blows, waves of golden power shooting from the blade. Tessaiga had expelled powerful waves before, but never like this. He didn't bother to question it. They cut through the hoard, slicing through demon after demon until they were clear. Many more lay before them, but they were almost at the temple.
Night had fallen – or maybe his vision was starting to fail. He couldn't tell at this point. Miroku sighed and squeezed his eyes shut once more, pouring his dwindling strength into the barrier. Doomed to death because he flirted with the wrong woman. Well, he'd been told he'd end up dying that way. Just his luck. Just his fate… That was it. His fate. Mushin's joking words had turned into a prophecy – he really was going to die that night. His barrier wouldn't hold for much longer, not with the blood still dripping from his shoulder, and the numbness that spread through his limbs, his lungs, his mind… He found himself wandering more often than not, and had to snap his attention back to his last defense against the demons. He was reaching the end of his strength. Soon there would be nothing left.
The barrier, already pale and weak, faded in and out of existence. Miroku looked out at the gathering demons, pressing ever closer as they sensed his weakness. Breathe in, breathe out. There was no need to fear. His death was certain. He would accept it with grace. He would die with dignity. He would stare death in the face, unflinchingly, and he would die with honour. No need to fight it – Miroku almost smiled – not like Inuyasha would. That stubborn hanyou would put up one hell of a fight, no matter the odds. No, he wouldn't do the same.
He wondered, if he reached out and found the nenju beads, if Inuyasha would come to his aid. He wouldn't blame him if he didn't. It was always likely that he would die with many regrets, but Miroku truly hadn't anticipated this being his first. He wished more than anything that he could see his friends one last time, though he knew that wishes were futile. He just wanted to tell them he was sorry, and how grateful he was for their time together. The barrier pulsed one last time before disappearing altogether, and Miroku closed his eyes. So, that was it, then. He could hear the demons rushing forward, shrieking in delight. Then there was an unearthly screech. And then-
"Miroku?" Inuyasha's voice, panicked and desperate called out to him as various bits of demon thudded around him.
He blinked up at the hanyou who stood at the edge of his father's grave, sword slung over his shoulder and framed by the rising moon. Inuyasha was staring back at him, amber eyes wide and ears folded to his head. Miroku couldn't believe it. He…he came! He actually came for him! Miroku opened his mouth to say something – to thank him, warn him, ask him how he even found him, he didn't know – but no sound came out. Inuyasha stumbled forward, sliding easily down the steep grassy walls of the crater. He took a few more steeps before sinking to his knees in front of Miroku. His hands moved haltingly, reaching for his hand, his shoulder, his face, but never settling.
"Inuyasha," Miroku breathed, which prompted an immediate reaction.
"You idiot!" Inuyasha shouted, bracing one hand against his chest and the other on his uninjured right shoulder. "You…you fucking idiot!"
"Miroku!" another voice shouted from the top of the grave, and an orange blur shot down and barrelled into his chest. "How could you leave us without saying anything?"
"Are you alright?" Hachi asked, sliding down to meet them.
Kirara landed further along the rim of the crater, Sango peering down at him. "Have you been injured, Miroku?"
They all came. Miroku struggled to wrap his mind around that fact. They all came looking for him. They all cared enough to find him even after he told them not to. The thought almost brought him to tears, and he shoved away the burning which rose in his chest. He hugged Shippo closer with one arm and caught Inuyasha's gaze once more. His friend looked practically devastated, some unnamed emotion swirling in those piercing eyes.
"Who goes there?" asked a familiar voice, and Miroku stiffened. Inuyasha glanced at his friend's expression and pressed him back with a hand on his chest. Miroku stank of blood and pain, his hair stuck to his brow with sweat. Inuyasha was more than willing to take on this new threat alone. He crept up the walls of the crater and peered over cautiously. An old, fat monk stood outside the temple, framed on either side by a hoard of worm demons. He was dressed in a black koromo and orange kesa, and had a length of giant juzo prayer beads slung over his shoulder.
"I will punish anyone who dares disturb the peace of my temple!" the old monk proclaimed, staring him down.
"Are you Mushin?" Inuyasha asked, glaring back. "You're brave for taking me on. Fight me if you can."
"Inuyasha, no!" Miroku gasped behind him, and Inuyasha turned to see him clawing his way out of the crater, supported by Hachi. He was deathly pale and shaking from the exertion. "Please, no! I beg you, don't kill him! Kami, please…"
Mushin cackled delightedly. "That's a very good boy, Miroku. I raised you well, didn't I?"
Inuyasha faltered. He'd been ready to rip this monk apart – would tear down anything at this point, if it posed a threat to his monk – but he heard the raw desperation in Miroku's pleading voice. The old monk said he'd raised him. He wouldn't take away Miroku's family, not when he knew his friend had lost so much already. He growled and ran for the old monk, heard Miroku cry out "No!" as he charged. It sounded like it was ripped from his very soul.
The old monk was prepared. He hurled the juzo beads at him and they wrapped around Tessaiga with a life of their own. The moment they touched the blade they emitted static bolts of energy which went sizzling down the length of the sword. Tessaiga glowed gold for an instant before transforming back from the shock of spiritual power thrumming through the beads. The loop of beads then slithered from the Tessaiga to coil around his body, pinning his arms to his sides and sending shocks of power through him. Inuyasha dropped Tessaiga and fell to his knees, the beads sucking the youki from him.
Mushin raised a hand and a wave of demons shot past him, aiming for Inuyasha and the others. Ripping his arm from the confines of the beads, Inuyasha met them with a swipe of his claws as he shouted "Iron Reaver, Soul Stealer!" The demons disappeared into chunks of flesh as he poured all his youkai strength into the blow. He glared back at the old monk, who looked unimpressed.
"My, my. Aren't we lively?" Mushin taunted before sending another pulse of spiritual power through the beads. Inuyasha cried out and collapsed to the ground, pain shooting through him. The old monk smirked and a dozen more worm demons gathered around him.
Sango's eyes narrowed at the faint white tendrils weaving to and fro from Mushin's mouth. Shippo clung to her arm, following her gaze. "What's coming out of his mouth?" he whispered.
"Demon worms," she said, glancing between the monk and the gathering demons. "He's possessed by a demon worm charmer."
"Can't he be saved?" Miroku asked. He was still clinging to the edge of the large hole in the ground, but he looked worse with every moment that passed.
"There must be a charmer close by who's manipulating him," Sango explained reluctantly. "I'd need to find the charmer's worm bottle and place it near him to draw the worms out." She paused, glancing over again at the trouble brewing by the temple. "But I'd have to leave you unprotected, and-"
"I'm fine, Sango!" he interrupted her. "Go!"
She ground her teeth and sent Hiraikotsu through another wave of demons aiming for Inuyasha. "Stay here," she instructed Kirara, who nodded and placed herself in front of Miroku. She moved toward the temple and Shippo scampered in front of her, sharp eyes searching.
"There!" he announced, pointing at the roof of the temple. A short, squat demon sat crouched there, staring down at them with serpentine eyes and blowing into a clay bottle. Sango immediately threw Hiraikotsu at it, but it hopped off the roof and down the other side of the temple. Sango swore and gave chase.
Inuyasha barely managed to push himself up off the ground to slash at the next wave of demons. It was as though the very life was being sucked out of him. Damn, he didn't have time for this! His breathing came in gasps and his muscles trembled from the strain of fighting against the power of the beads. Light fell on his face and he looked up to see yet another hoard of demons gathering. Their chattering voices filled the air, drowning out all other noise.
"Soon you won't have any power left to fight," the old monk called at him. "So you'd better decide on your fate. Do you want to be devoured alive, or do you want me to be more benevolent and chop your head off, first? Those scum demons will be sated either way. Scum demons devour only scum!"
"Don't get your hopes up," Inuyasha growled. He pushed himself forward, catching the monk by the neck. The momentum carried the monk back, and Inuyasha raised his claws.
"I'm the only one who can repair Miroku's wind tunnel," the monk said, the words pouring rapidly from his mouth. Inuyasha instantly stopped his attack, realizing the truth of the words. "If his hand is left as it is, all of you, including Miroku, will be sucked inside of it before tomorrow's end."
Inuyasha's grip faltered and another wave of power shot through the juzo beads, bringing him to his knees.
Miroku glanced at the hoard of demons circling overhead, just waiting for the worm charmer's signal to rip Inuyasha and Sango to shreds. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let them die when they were only there in the first place on some misguided attempt to save him. He hauled himself further over the edge of the crater, bracing himself first on his forearms then on his stomach. Kirara had darted away, fighting off an opportunistic demon that had lunged at them. Now was his only chance.
"Master, you can move again!" Hachi exclaimed, before he shuddered. "What-"
Miroku's fingers closed around his mala beads. "Hachi, prepare yourself. Both of us will probably be sucked in this time, but it's better than being eaten alive by demons."
Hachi's eyes darted from his hand to his face before nodding resolutely. "I'm with you!"
He helped push Miroku up to standing and braced him when he struggled to stay upright. Brave Hachi. He didn't deserve this, but Miroku needed him – he couldn't stand on his own. At least Inuyasha and the others were far away enough to have a chance. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled the mala from his hand. He instantly felt the difference as the void tugged at the ragged edges of his palm, straining the already broken skin. The wind was more powerful, too, that much closer to breaking open entirely. The demons were sucked in immediately, pulled down from the sky en masse. He could feel the strain immediately, the toll it was taking on his body. He ground his teeth and kept his footing.
Inuyasha whipped around at the terrifyingly familiar sound and he went cold with fear. "Miroku?"
"The fool!" Mushin shouted, fear in his voice as he stepped back. "He'll suck in everything around him!"
Something shifted in Inuyasha's chest as the youki within him sprang to life. The beads loosened just a fraction, and he gathered up the power within him before sending it out in a burst that sent the beads flying in every direction. He was running on pure instinct as his demon side reacted to the sight of Miroku in trouble. He spared a heartbeat to punch the old monk hard enough to knock him out cold before turning on his heel and springing forward.
Miroku was shaking, sinking back over the crater even as Hachi struggled to hold him upright. He could feel his palm tearing, the wind tunnel spreading from the nicks. He only needed to hold out for a moment longer, just long enough to take in the last of the demons, but his body was failing him. His knees gave out and he was sliding back, Hachi slipping off the edge of the crater behind him. With nothing to support him he fell, over the edge of his father's grave. He barely managed to catch a flailing segment of his mala beads, and the wind tunnel slammed shut. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it closed as he fell.
But a hand grasped his wrist, jerking him to a stop. Inuyasha was clinging to the edge of the crater with one hand, the other wrapped around his forearm. Miroku stared at him in shock. Inuyasha bared his teeth in a truly ferocious snarl. "Damn it! If you try to use that wind tunnel again, I'll tear your stupid arm off!"
He tugged Miroku closer, dragging them both up over the lip of the crater. He wrapped his arm around Miroku's waist, partially to help him up, partially to hold him close. They glanced up at the sky, where more than a hundred demons still swarmed. Inuyasha growled, pushed Miroku into the ground with a hand on his back.
"I don't care if you wanna die – you're not doing it while I'm around! You got that?!" He picked up Tessaiga from where he had dropped it earlier. "I'm not gonna let you die – not here, not now!"
He raised Tessaiga above his head and brought it down in a single, powerful strike. Four lines of blazing light shot from the blade and travelled through the wall of demons, instantly destroying them. All of them. Their decimated bodies rained to the ground. Inuyasha stared at his sword, which glowed with a powerful golden light. What happened? He'd never done anything like that.
Miroku blinked. He'd seen that golden shimmer on the Tessaiga before – this must be its true power, finally realized! Inuyasha did it!
Movement from the roof drew Sango's attention away from Inuyasha. The worm charmer ran to the edge and jumped, making its escape. Sango threw Hiraikotsu and cut it cleanly in half. Shippo rushed forward and caught the clay bottle before it could hit the ground. He brought it back to Sango and together they placed it by the unconscious Mushin. Instantly, the ethereal worms slithered from his mouth and back into the bottle. Sango sealed it with the cork and sat back on her heels. "He should be fine now."
Inuyasha walked over to Miroku, who was struggling to make his way over to Mushin. He sighed wearily and hoisted the monk's arm over his shoulder, taking almost all of his weight. Miroku gave him a smile in thanks, and it had never looked so fragile. They joined the others around Mushin. Miroku shook his shoulders, tried to rouse him, but to no avail.
"He should wake soon enough on his own," Sango reassured him, but her eyes darted meaningfully to the mala beads dangling loosely from his arm. "Can you wait?"
"I'll be fine," Miroku said, relatively sure that it wasn't a lie.
After Miroku idiotically attempted to lift Mushin and almost passed out in the process, Inuyasha grudgingly agreed to carry the old monk inside. He recruited Kirara, Shippo, and Hachi to assist, while Sango helped Miroku inside. They set Mushin on his bed and sat in a heap around him, all of them physically and emotionally exhausted. Inuyasha scooted over to Miroku, who sat leaning against the wall. He was pale and shaking, drenched in sweat with his eyes sunken into their sockets. The scent of pain and blood sat thickly around him like a shroud. Inuyasha grabbed him by the shoulders and maneuvered them both around until Miroku was leaning back against his chest. Slowly, Miroku's head fell back to rest on Inuyasha's shoulder. He was still breathing harshly and his heartbeat had yet to settle.
At some point, Sango came up to them with a bucket of warm water, some sake, and Miroku's robes. They had to press a wet cloth to his shoulder where the cloth of his koromo was glued to the skin with blood. After peeling it away, Sango gently cleaned and stitched the wound, using supplies pulled from the various pockets in Miroku's robes. Inuyasha kept his arms wrapped around the monk's chest the entire time. Once the wound was safely bandaged, Sango left Inuyasha to help Miroku change back into his robes. The white koromo was still damp, which didn't help his constant shivering. His skin was already clammy from sweat and blood loss.
Inuyasha tried not to stare at the bruises blooming down Miroku's body. He kept his movements calm, even, and controlled, even though his youki was swirling within him. Once he was dressed, Inuyasha pushed them both back into their previous position. Miroku still had trouble moving, the medicine working its way through his system. He leaned heavily back against Inuyasha and took comfort in his warmth and solid presence. There was still a long night ahead of them, and they would wait it out together.
Mushin woke with a grumble shortly before dawn. He remembered most of what had happened while he was possessed, though he admitted it was a little fuzzy. Miroku pressed a small cup of sake to his hand and filled him – and the others – in on the events of the previous day.
"'m sorry for trying to kill you," Mushin muttered at Inuyasha, eyeing him with mild suspicion.
"Sorry for knocking you out," Inuyasha grumbled back.
Mushin laughed heartily at that and slapped him on the shoulder. "Please, I've had far worse than that little thing. Why, I remember this one time…"
Miroku tuned out the infamous story of Mushin's adventures with a pickpocketing yūjo and instead focused on his companions. He still couldn't believe they had come for him. While Sango and Shippo helped Mushin gather some food, Miroku could feel Inuyasha's eyes on him. He ignored it as best he could, not really feeling up for confrontation at that moment. Eventually, though, he gave in.
"You never did say why you left us without a word," Inuyasha said softly, pressing the length of their arms together.
Miroku sighed. "I…I didn't want to risk exposing you to the wind tunnel, for one. I had no idea how a tear might spread."
"And you didn't tell us this because…?" Inuyasha prompted, a firmness to his voice even though his eyes were soft.
"I suspected that you might try to come with me. That you might not let me go alone, or at all." Miroku swallowed and looked away. He would usually stop talking at that point, but he was still raw from the fear that had consumed him all day. "And I thought it would be better for you to continue on without me, work together to complete the Jewel and kill Naraku even if I was dead. It didn't really occur to me that you would go out of your way to find me when I told you not to."
He glanced up and saw Sango and Shippo standing at the doorway, their arms laden with vegetables. Shippo looked sad and confused, while Sango looked heartbroken. Miroku cursed himself. He should never have said anything. Inuyasha shifted beside him, bumped their shoulders together.
"So what you're saying is that you're an idiot."
Miroku nodded solemnly. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to say."
"Well, you're my idiot," Inuyasha said firmly. "So don't you forget it."
They formed bowls of rice, beans, tofu, and vegetables for everyone to eat. Miroku attempted to refuse, claiming he still felt nauseous, and was met with several hot glares. He obediently ate the meal while the others recounted their half of the tale. They all thanked Hachi for his quick thinking in finding the group after Miroku sent him away, recognizing that the decision had saved his life. Once they had finished up, Mushin pushed to his feet and looked at him.
"I think it's high time we see to that wind tunnel, young man," he said cheerfully.
Miroku froze. Logically, he knew that it needed to happen – the sooner the better, in fact. His hand hadn't stopped aching since the initial fight with the mantis, but using it again had heightened the pain to a constant throb. He had no idea if it might still tear open at any moment. But the idea of numbing himself with medicine again, of letting himself drift away so soon made his skin crawl and stomach churn. He felt everyone's eyes on him and regained his carefully crafted mask of pleasant neutrality. He didn't know how successful he was.
He drank the concoction of herbs with no visible hesitation and lay down on the mat, trying to keep his heartrate under control. He wasn't terribly surprised when Inuyasha sat down next to him. The others offered him encouraging glances and left to wait outside on the en. Miroku fixed his eyes on the ceiling and breathed deeply through his nose. Inuyasha's ears twitched, following Mushin's movements through the temple, but never taking his eyes off Miroku's face. As his breathing began to rise, struggling against the medicine's grasp, Inuyasha reached out and took his hand.
"I can't stay in the room with you, but I'm going to be right outside and listening the entire time," he promised. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Miroku blinked away an errant tear, hoping that Inuyasha would forgive him for his weakness. He nodded hastily, pressing his lips firmly together to prevent any wayward emotions from leaking through. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, shuddering breath. The feeling of safety he'd once associated with this temple was gone, irrevocably shattered by what had transpired. But he trusted Inuyasha. He trusted his friends. With tremendous effort, he relaxed his muscles and allowed himself to sleep.
Inuyasha almost resisted Mushin as the old monk shooed him outdoors, but he couldn't risk anything distracting him while he fixed Miroku's hand. He had to imagine that it was an incredibly delicate operation. He, Sango, Shippo, Hachi, and Kirara were all banished to the en to wait. First, Inuyasha tried to stay seated, but he found his leg bouncing constantly with restless energy. Then he paced. Finally, once he heard Mushin begin, he sat back down and listened to every movement, breath, and heartbeat coming from that room with unwavering focus. Sango was still beside him, her eyes closed as she waited out the anxiety they all felt.
"He's taking so long," Shippo murmured, looking between the two of them for reassurance.
"He has to stitch the wound very carefully," Sango explained quietly, unwilling to break the fragile sense of calm that had fallen. "You don't want him to rush."
When the sound of footsteps approached, Inuyasha was on his feet before the door slid open.
"Young fool," Mushin muttered, taking a swig straight from a jar of sake. "He should be more careful."
"How is he?" Inuyasha asked, trying to peer over the old monk's shoulder into the room.
"He's sleeping. You can go see him, but I don't think he'll be much for conversation."
All of them slipped past him into the temple. Miroku looked small, lying there on the floor. His hand was covered in its usual cloth and Inuyasha could only guess as to what lay underneath. He looked a little better than he had before, with some of the colour returned to his cheeks. But there was a slight grimace on his face, even in such a deep sleep. Inuyasha sat by his side and began counting every beat of his heart.
"You there, Inuyasha?" Mushin said after a while. "Come with me."
Inuyasha glanced at Miroku then at Sango, alarmed. Sango's expression softened. "Go," she urged. "I've got him."
He got reluctantly to his feet and glanced back several times before following the old monk outside. Mushin leant against the railing surrounding the en, looking out at the waterfall behind the temple.
"Well, drunkard, I hope you did a good job," Inuyasha said, hoping to get this conversation over with quickly.
Mushin sighed and turned to face him, taking another swig from the sake jar. "I did the best that I could to repair it, but the wind tunnel has definitely spread."
His heart clenched, the words ringing in his ears. "Does that mean that his life has been shortened? How much longer does he have to live?"
"I don't know," Mushin huffed. "His father and grandfather both carried the curse for nearly twenty years, but they never used it as a weapon the way he does. If he keeps on the way he is, I can't see him lasting much longer." He turned his gaze to Inuyasha, and there was real emotion in his watery old eyes. "If Naraku is destroyed then the curse will be lifted, and Miroku's life will be spared. It's his only hope." He reached out and placed a heavy hand on Inuyasha's shoulder. "You seem like a good lad, despite the ears and all that. Thank you for looking after my boy."
Inuyasha slipped back inside the temple, blinking furiously against the stinging in his eyes. He knelt back by Miroku's side and nodded to Sango. She pressed her lips together and tucked the blanket more firmly around Miroku.
"He sure puts on a strong front, doesn't he?" she murmured, gazing down at his face. "How does he manage to always stay so light-hearted?"
Inuyasha didn't say anything, but he flattened himself to the floor. First one leg, then his whole body pressed against Miroku's. Shippo and Kirara followed suit, climbing onto his lap and chest. Sango watched them all with a broken smile and took Miroku's unbound hand in hers. They sat like that for a long time. Eventually, Miroku shifted, heavy eyes slowly blinking open.
"Miroku!" Shippo greeted enthusiastically, reaching out tiny hands to frame his face.
"You're going to be fine," Sango assured him. "Mushin stitched up the wind tunnel."
Miroku looked blearily at them, then slowly raised his right hand and stared at the palm, brows furrowed. Inuyasha heard his heartbeat stutter into a rapid beat, then slowly calm. He smelled the spike of fear in his scent, too, even as the monk smiled at him.
"It's good to see you all here."
The smile looked so genuine, despite the sour fear, that Inuyasha acted without thinking. He lunged forward and pulled Miroku into a hug. Miroku made a noise of surprise, but his arms slowly came to rest on Inuyasha's back, squeezing with fragile strength. Inuyasha only shifted his weight and clutched him harder to his chest. When he eventually pulled away, Miroku was staring at him with shining eyes and a puzzled expression.
"Don't ever do that again," Inuyasha growled, his ears flat on his head.
"I'll try not to," Miroku assured weakly.
"How are you feeling?" Sango asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Good as new," Miroku said, smiling hazily.
They insisted he lay down for a while longer, since the effects of the medicine had yet to fully disappear. Shippo began asking him a series of endless questions about how life worked at a temple, while Sango moved in and out of the room, helping Mushin however she could. Even as the others busied themselves, Inuyasha remained by his side all day. He didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge Miroku's questioning glances, merely sat beside him, a sold presence. When Miroku had to stand or sit, there was a hand at his elbow and back. When he grimaced at the pain in his shoulder or hand, Inuyasha helped him however he could. It left Miroku feeling a little overwhelmed.
That evening, as they ate together, Inuyasha glanced up at Mushin. "Would it be alright if we stayed here for another day or two?"
Miroku stared at him in surprise, but didn't comment. Mushin muttered that they'd better earn their keep, but everyone could tell that he wasn't particularly serious. The conversation flowed lightly, mostly consisting of Mushin's stories which were wildly inappropriate for Shippo and yet had the kit enthralled. But as the evening wore on, everyone seemed to remember that they hadn't slept the night before – a few had napped throughout the day – and they made their way to bed. Mushin disappeared off to his own sleeping area, while Sango gathered Shippo and Kirara by the fire. The others had insisted that Miroku take the only spare futon. Inuyasha followed him back to the sleeping area, keeping his silence. He helped Miroku lie down but the monk caught his hand as he pulled away.
"You don't need to worry about me, you know," he murmured. "We can leave tomorrow morning."
Inuyasha growled quietly and knelt in front of him, eyes firm. "We stay until you're well enough to travel. We did the same for Sango when she was injured. You'd do the same for any of our companions. Don't deny yourself the same treatment."
When he lay down, Inuyasha immediately pressed against his side. He refused to make eye contact and was practically bristling, and Miroku wisely decided not to say anything. It wasn't as though he minded, anyway. He wouldn't be sleeping for a long while, the creeping anxiety still present. He felt the ragged edges of the wind tunnel tugging at his palm further than ever before. The cold numbness seeped into his mind and bones like a disease. He didn't know if he would ever be free of it. He closed his eyes and tried to welcome the dark embrace of sleep.
Inuyasha pressed his nose against Miroku's neck and took deep, shuddering breaths. Now that it was all over and everyone was safe, the intense fear that had been plaguing him finally hit home. He began to tremble with the force of it, and buried himself further against Miroku. He'd almost lost him, in more ways than one, many times over. He'd almost lost Miroku. The thought sent a roll of nausea through him. What he'd suspected before had become undeniable – he cared about Miroku, more than just as a travel companion of even a new friend. He cared about Miroku in ways he didn't think were possible before. He didn't know what it meant, or how it would change things – all he knew was that the image of Miroku, pale and bleeding, about to be devoured by demons, haunted him every time he closed his eyes. That he hadn't thought twice about leaping in the path of the wind tunnel to catch Miroku as he fell. That Miroku looked far too small as he was lying there, and it had little to do with the robes which clung to his slim form and everything to do with the lack of confident, cheerful, vibrant life which usually surrounded him. And Inuyasha knew that he would do anything to get those lips to smile and those eyes to shine once more.
He had the vague notion that someone was following him, though Miroku didn't know who. Something was nagging at the corners of his mind, an urgent whisper that told him he needed to run. That he wasn't safe. That he needed to get away. He glanced around but he couldn't see anything, not through the thick fog and the darkness of night. There was an odd sound, too – a faint whistling. Then it hit him. His eyes snapped to his palm, where a faint breeze was swirling around the mala beads. Even as he watched, they cracked and shattered, falling to the ground. The wind tunnel burst open, sucking in everything around him. Dark, clawed hands were reaching for him and the void spread ever further. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was going to consume him. He backpedaled, tried to get away, but how do you escape from your own hand? The cold nothingness began spreading up his arm, tugging him forward and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't even scream-
Miroku woke gasping with arms securely around him. He struggled for a moment until he caught the familiar voice whispering in his ear. He sank back against Inuyasha's chest, tried to catch his breath and calm the frantic beating of his heart. He was shaking, drenched in cold sweat. He clung to Inuyasha's arms, closed his eyes. Without thinking he turned, pressed his face into Inuyasha's chest like a child. The hanyou was kind enough not to mention it, just readjusted is arms around him and continued a constant murmur of quiet, empty reassurances. Miroku stayed there for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Inuyasha didn't argue when Miroku said he was ready to leave. He stuck close to his side, always keeping an ear trained on him. After feeding them one last time, Mushin walked them to the edge of the temple's land. Miroku slowed as they passed his father's grave, but didn't stop. As Hachi transformed and the others began climbing onto his back, Miroku hugged Mushin farewell.
"Don't wait so long to come back next time," Mushin told him gruffly. "And take care of yourself – you're too skinny and you need a haircut."
Miroku smiled and waved goodbye. As Inuyasha helped him onto Hachi's back, he felt Mushin's eyes on him. He turned to look at the old monk, and saw his gaze soften.
"Goodbye, Inuyasha," Mushin muttered, just loud enough for hanyou ears. "Take care of my boy."
Welcome to my queer retelling, where everyone has psychological issues and no one's okay. Glad you could make it. I'm sorry.
Oof, this chapter was a long one but I have to admit, I've been looking forward to it since I started this venture. I think it's one of the best insights into not only Miroku's character, but the group dynamic, and the moment that they all realize what's really at stake for him. Finding Naraku becomes more of a shared purpose rather than something they're all working towards individually, and they truly become more of a team. And the angst! And the introspection! And the feels!