Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this journey... especially for the one harboring strong emotions. A nod of recognition is bent towards Rumiko Takahashi for her creative prowess.

Author's Note: In an effort to complete my unfinished fanfiction, I've kicked off a recurring event over on my KO – FI account, where I'll be hanging out (usually) on the fourth Saturday of every month. As of this posting (March 2021), the two stories I'm adding to are Vassal and Unexpected (IxK, Contemporary AU). Little by little, we'll see each story through. ::twinkle::

Cause of Death

"This." Sesshoumaru's gaze lingered on the grassy bowl. "This was your fate."

"Both my father and grandfather died like this." Miroku kneaded his bare palm, then looked away, to where a waterfall churned down the mountainside. "If I had succumbed to Naraku's curse, yes. I would have been consumed by the void, taking anyone nearby with me."

"Were you here?"

"I was." Miroku was surprised Sesshoumaru was interested. "I tried to go to him."

When his father had run outside, Miroku hadn't wanted him to leave, hadn't understood that he wasn't going anywhere.

"Here?" Sesshoumaru had moved closer, nostrils aquiver.

It occurred to Miroku that Sesshoumaru was trying to read the scent of his memory, much as he'd used scent to search his own memories.

So he let his thoughts dwell on the events of that awful night. Reliving it.

His father's misery had been unsettling. So unlike the charismatic monk who heaped a too-young son with advice about easy marks and easy women. No, that last time he visited, he was severely changed. Gaunt. Unshaven. Afraid.

Some details were still sharp enough to cut.

The crash of a clay jar, the smell of spilled sake.

The way the door splintered when father charged through it.

The way the darkness thickened with ominous portents.

When his father stumbled to a halt, Miroku caught up, clung tightly, begged him not to go. He remembered the way his father cradled his arm and the eerie wind that circled them—cold, hungry. Father's voice had cracked with urgency. "No! Don't follow! Stay back!"

A shove sent Miroku reeling. Confusing, coming from someone who'd never struck him before.

That was when Miroku's own powers stirred.

He saw the curse billow and twist.

But he didn't know how to stop it.

Only knew it must be stopped, or Father would be harmed.

He tried to run to him, but Mushin was there, holding him back.

No matter how he struggled and reached, he couldn't get free.

"Miroku, no!" His father bellowed the command, but it was barely heard above the rising wind. "Mushin, hold him! Take him! Teach him!"

There had been one last thing. Only mouthed. Inaudible. But luridly lit by jaki, the dreadful power of the curse, young Miroku had seen his father's last words—I am sorry.

Miroku sighed and addressed his new lord. "Father did not want to be the cause of my death."

"Hnn." Sesshoumaru had edged even nearer. "Naraku was."

"Ah. Well, yes."

A flick of claws. "You could not have prevented this end."

"I know."

Sesshoumaru frowned slightly. "It is similar, this scent."

Miroku glanced between the grave marker and his companion, confused.

Voice barely above a whisper, Sesshoumaru dully said, "If my father had taken me with him, he might not have died."

Had another father pushed his son out of harm's way? Spared him?

"Will you show me?" Miroku asked.

Sesshoumaru's gaze was implacable. "What do you wish to see?"

"Show me where your father died."

End Note: This chapter was helped along by a prompt from Sam, who contributed the word "darkness" over on my Ko-fi account, where I'm currently hosting a fandom event. I'm also ticking off a prompt from a table I procured (ages ago) from the Live Journal community iy no kakera, where I hold a claim on Sesshoumaru & Miroku. Set #2, Theme #49, Looking Back. 500 words, originally posted on March 27, 2021.