Dying to Live

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi, but as always, I do claim all the unique plot and original characters as mine alone. ;)

Although Sesshomaru no longer had his demonic senses to aid him, he felt sure that even the simplest lifeform would have sensed the aura of death and decay that hung around the village they were entering. The three burnt-out homes that they had passed on the way into the languishing little community should have been indication enough. The eerie silence that pervaded the place like the rainy mist that curled around the still, deserted huts only added strength to this hunch of his. Certainly, nothing living and valuing its life would stay longer in a place like this than necessary. A place this far gone couldn't possibly have anything worthy to offer a passerby. So the former Lord of the West shifted his weight in his saddle, hunkering down for their soggy ride to continue. They would obviously enter one end of this dead-end ghost town and exit out the other in a matter of moments.

As they approached the failing heart of this dying village, the last palpitations— the final sounds of life being lived by this horrible place's inhabitants— pumped into him via his inferior human ears. His attention drifted to where a rough looking group of old men and boys huddled under a rickety, open-fronted structure. All across the front of the crude building, the rain poured down here and there. With the way the pathetic, half-drowned creatures kept their poncho hoods up even under the wooden roof, he passively surmised that it must be full of leaks.

Their little caravan drew closer, and Sesshomaru noticed a few of the littlest mortal whelps looking in their direction, followed in slow order by the older men and boys. While he wouldn't have admitted it aloud, something about their hollow, hungry gaze chased chills down his spine. He was about to turn his face away, no longer willing to take in their pitiful, pale faces, when the idiotic monk turned in his saddle. "Hold up for a moment," the Buddhist called around the edge of his hood. Then, pulling his reigns, the Buddhist rounded his mount back toward the white, glaring faces. Obediently, the demon slayer boy pranced after him, pulling the others along. Grumbling, Sesshomaru sluggishly brought up the rear.

Stupid monk, he thought, hating the man's unfailing compassion.

"Woah," Miroku comforted his horse and brought the beast unwillingly back to the front of the open shack. Even that dumb animal knows better than you to double back into the depths of this hopeless place, the ex-daiyoukai mused derisively.

Yet, having been bored for so many days by mile after mile of identical forest trail, Sesshomaru's curiosity got the better of him. Without really intending to get so close, he edged up to the monk's horse's right flank, Kohaku already taking up the left side. Closer, he now clearly saw that the shed was definitely a former shelter for beasts. Only, today, the hay racks were empty and strapped to the rafters, with its hind legs to the ceiling, was the carcass a of boar. Sesshomaru's inner eye pictured the same crude beast once sheltering from the summer sun under the same roof, only under very different circumstances.

Bloody knives hanging from several of the younger men's hands and the sight of the animal's already partially filleted flesh suggested that the men were preparing the meat to be dried or smoked. Although not well-versed in the seasonal movements of men, even Sesshomaru wondered how much meat could really be had from such a bony looking specimen so early in the year… Better yet, why flay it in the rain?

One man, who had watched their approach the most intently, stepped forward to talk. Among humans, Sesshomaru decided that he was a more immediately interesting individual than most. Thin and taller than the rest of the males around him, he had a slightly crooked nose and mouth; however, the firm, even set of his jaw gave him an honest, straightforward look. Wiry, graying hair circled his head and sprung from a thin moustache and thicker brows. Broad shoulders and an uncommonly straight back for a working man made him look solid even beneath his worn burlap poncho. Despite his more advanced age and sallow complexion, he looked out at the world with bright, sharp eyes that bespoke an inherent intelligence. Still, at the corner of his mouth, he gnawed on a single long blade of dried hay.

Over the pounding of the rain on the little shanty, Miroku shouted: "Good afternoon, good villagers. My friends and I are seeking shelter from the rain. Would you kindly point us in the direction of your nearest lodging?"

Not just one but both of Sesshomaru's noble-looking eyebrows shot up at the monk's request. What?

"I would, good monk," the man replied, gracefully pulling the stiff piece of hay from between his lips like it was a gentleman's prized pipe. He certainly had an unusual amount of composure for a common village lug. "But I don't think ye'll like to stay in our village very long. It's no place for pilgrims at the moment, 'specially not the young 'n' fair," he concluded evenly, casting looks particularly at Rin, Kohaku, and Shippo. Indeed, Sesshomaru added mentally, gratified that his superb intuition for these things was still well intact.

"Sounds ominous," Miroku commented sounding undaunted. He continued to press the issue for reasons Sesshomaru did not understand: "But we are not pilgrims. We require no special lodgings, only a dry place to rest our heads and possibly a bit of gruel."

Hearing this, Sesshomaru noticed a flicker of interest in the old man's eyes. The man reinserted the end of the hay stalk between his teeth, and biting down, he narrowed his gaze ever so slightly. "Then, what are ye?" he graveled, conspicuously sizing up their visitors once again.

What is the damned monk thinking? Sesshomaru asked himself again, now also watching Miroku intently for an answer, unable to divine the Buddhist's purpose without further clues.

"Only a humble monk and demon slayer and their friends," Miroku replied innocently indicating himself and Kohaku followed by the rest of their group. "What seems to be your trouble here?"

The man looked away and pulled the piece of vegetation from his mouth again—an action that was obviously a nervous habit while thinking with this mortal, Sesshomaru surmised. The silver-haired human was evidently considering how he should answer. "Demons," he replied sternly looking back up at the monk.

Demons: this problem was not at all surprising to Sesshomaru, looking at the state of the place. The former Ruler of the West was seriously questioning the Buddhist's capabilities if this was really what the clergyman had stopped them all just to find out. What a waste of time, Sesshomaru scowled inwardly. He already had his hands poised on the reigns to go when, to his utter astonishment, the monk slid out of his saddle and landed with a splash in front of the old man.

"Well, that's exactly what we specialize in," the monk announced loud enough for all to hear.

:

"Ye, realize that there's no reward to be had…" The sturdy old man had introduced himself as Kuga Haruo, headman of Harumura Village. He had warned them again, as he lead them around the central village building. Long and large, the structure looked big enough to assemble all the villagers for harvest meetings and the like.

"Yes, yes," Sesshomaru heard the crazy monk reply congenially. "All, we request is secure refuge for two of our friends and perhaps a bite to eat while we combat your issue."

"Good, that can be arranged, but as ye'll see, we've nothin' else. Ye already saw how we had to butcher that young boar early, for lack food and place to lodge our livestock. We've had no choice but to save what we can before it's too late," the headman elaborated, making sure to paint the village's desperation clearly. Obviously, he needed them to understand well that the situation would provide no fodder for frauds or cheats.

"Of course," Miroku replied more seriously. They all halted, as the village patriarch approached a pair of gangly young teenagers wearing dirty rags and mean looks. They stood fierce like palace sentries in front of the village stables, each boy armed with a rusted mattock slung over one shoulder. When Kuga produced his open palm, the older looking of the two boys fished a set of rusty keys out of the folds of his clothing, but only after casting a suspicious gaze at their visitors.

Sesshomaru felt himself beginning to aggressively dislike this situation. If we are not demolished by whatever's haunting this place, we may as well be killed by one of these disgruntled, young pups.

In the meantime, the headman had twisted his keys inside several heavy, cast-iron locks, which he'd handed back to the meaner of the two youths. Then, together the two young sentries lifted out of the way the thick, heavy plank that had bolted the doors shut. Huffing, they pulled open the big wooden doors. Dust and stale air drifted out.

"Ye can use these stables overnight at yer own risk," Kuga explained darkly, as he led the way into the large, nearly empty space. In one corner, a flea-bitten work-nag startled at the appearance of strangers in her domain. "We haven't kept any of the animals in 'ere overnight in over a week—even Kurumi-chan—" Kuga explained, patting the skittish mare's rump. A sad shadow passed over the man's features. "Kurumi-chan's the only plow beast we have left, can't afford to keep 'er out 'ere… not since they broke the doors in. Killed the other three horses and chased the rest away into the woods that night," he commented sadly.

"Then, where else do you keep her?" Kohaku asked quickly, his brow crinkled with concern.

"In the village hall, with whatever other livestock we can… I'm afraid there won't be enough room for yer beasts though…" he replied warily.

"No, no, it's okay!" Kohaku replied with a look of mixed shock and confusion, as one of the boys tethered the demon slayer's horse for him. "But what do you mean – why are the people staying in the village hall? And with the animals—"

"They're afraid— they can't go home!" the older of the two boys had turned toward the conversation and spoke up in a sharp voice. His knuckles whitened around the worn handle of his mattock. "It's not safe for anyone! Not since those damned wolves. I'd tear out their entrails and—"

"Akio-kun," Headman Kuga glared at the youth for his crudeness, but Sesshomaru's gaze darted in Rin's direction. He couldn't see her face from where his stood. She had begun brushing down her horse, but he saw that her hand in the brush loop had frozen in place. She must've heard- was she shaking? Had anyone else noticed? Sesshomaru couldn't tell clearly. It frustrated him that he could longer smell her fear, hear her pulse from several paces away-

"Wolves?" Miroku interjected questioningly. "I thought you said it was demons?"

"They're no ordinary wolves! They snatched Onee-san's baby right from 'er arms!" Akio whimpered more quietly. Bitter tears rushed to his eyes, and his boyish face turned haggard. He looked down at his open palm. "I tried to stop it, but the bastard didn't even flinch when I stabbed it with my dagger…"

"Akio-kun's infant niece was the last human victim," Kuga expounded as he clasped the boy's shoulder with a comforting, weathered hand. "Before that, it was the burnt down homes on the outskirts of the village—the hermit and the tanner, then the highway trader and his extended family… after that, all the unsheltered livestock over the course of a week… at that point, we were scared, but we still didn't know what we were dealing with…"

"Has anyone else seen the wolf demons?" Miroku asked pointedly.

Kuga looked over the boy with sorrow in his eyes. "Akio-kun is the only survivor who has been able to describe what he saw," he answered.

"The only one 'able to describe'?" the monk questioned again with a raised eyebrow. "Akio-kun, what about your sister?"

"She died from wounds. They killed 'er," the youth ground out.

"That's horrible," Kohaku murmured in the boy's direction.

"There is one other," Kuga added, "the highway trader's daughter. She walked into the village covered in soot and burns the night the family home burned to the ground. That was two weeks ago. Theirs was the third and last home to burn down outside the village… we didn't even know about the tanner and hermit's places before that; they lived too far from the village. We took her in and tried to talk to her. But a few people said that the girl's mind has always been addled, as long as anyone can remember. Nothing she says is coherent. Now, we think the family must have been attacked by the wolf demons."

The monk stroked his chin and sighed. "I want to hear whatever else you and the other villagers can tell me about these attacks, though. And so far, the wolf demons have left the village hall alone since you all started staying in there together?"

"Yes, but we can hear them moving outside at night, as if they are searching the village for something… perhaps other lives to take. In the morning, people return to their huts, and they've have found doors chewed through, and things—particularly things they used or touched the previous day— upturned and destroyed in their homes," the headman grimaced before he transitioned to a new topic.

"Here, come," he beseeched with a gesture toward the door. "Ye can definitely talk to Akio-kun and the other villagers more. In fact, I don't know what ye know 'bout doctorin', but I wonder if ye'll have a look at some of our elderly and children who've recently fallen ill. I fear it may be spreadin'."

"I don't know much, but I will certainly see if there's anything I can do. And I think my friends could use a rest too," Miroku offered and moved toward the door, signaling the rest of them to do the same.

"Of course," Kuga agreed, and began to show them out as he added, "Akio-kun and Gorou-kun'll finish tending yer beasts—"

The old man's offer was suddenly cut off mid-sentence. The clatter of a wooden bucket and water dashing against hard earth ricocheted off the stable's high wooden ceiling. "DEMON!" the younger boy yelled, jumping back from between the horses at the far, shadowy end of the building. "DEMON!" Gorou shrieked again, as Akio skidded in the same direction and everybody else hurried forward to see the source of the commotion.

Sesshomaru got a look at the scene over Kohaku's head. One of the drenched burlap ponchos lay in a heap at the boy's feet while Akio held his mattock aloft prepared to strike. There atop Miroku's saddle, Kirara sat with her tails still tightly curled around her. The little cat demon's head had poked up in alarm, and she was still furiously blinking the sleep from her huge, reddish-orange eyes. Beside her, across the smooth curve of the horse's rump, Hachi lay on his back with his arms and legs spread out. Despite the disturbance, he still snored loudly with his mouth wide open, displaying a drop of drool and two rows of small but glinting, razor-sharp raccoon-dog teeth. Miroku looked as though he had forgotten that the two were still snoozing on the back of his ride. The youth must have been going to unsaddle the horse since Miroku, enthralled with what Kuga had been saying, hadn't done it himself. From where he stood, Sesshomaru felt that neither of the two creatures looked particularly scary in their present conditions. Yet, the two boys looked unmistakably frightened at the sight of two demons in their midst. The former daiyoukai found it almost comical.

"It almost bit me!" the young mortal wailed. The boy pointed a shaking finger at the monk's cat demon and looked far less tough now than he did when they'd first arrived outside the stables.

"Look at its eyes and the other's fangs!" Akio exclaimed. "They've brought two of those monsters in!"

Untenable, Sesshomaru scoffed, stifling a laugh. There was no way Kirara even had time to react to the boy, not to mention Hachi, who looked more dead than alive at the moment. Still, it appeared that the monk decided it would be better not to argue.

"I'm sorry my friends have disturbed you. I promise none of them would ever think of causing you harm intentionally," the monk offered diplomatically, dipping his head apologetically in the direction of each of their hosts. "If it would help, though, they can stay out here in the stable away from the rest of your villagers, so as not to alarm anyone else."

Kuga spoke up then: "Yes, I'm sorry too, since ye have already offered yer assistance to us, but I think it would be better, considerin' how on edge everyone's nerves already are about the recent attacks."

"Are there any others of their kind among ye?" the headman asked, searching the monk's face.

Ha! If you only knew… Sesshoumaru snickered darkly from within himself, considering first his own formerly fearsome self in response to this question. In his self-absorption, he forgot one other to whom the question might apply.

"Shippou." The monk held his expression even, as he looked through their little pack for where the copper-haired youth stood behind everyone else.

Hesitantly, the glamorized kitsune cut his way to the front of the group and stood in front of Miroku and the headman. "Yes?" he asked softly, looking up at the monk with his head tilted warily forward.

"Shippou-kun is the third and last among us," Miroku answered, turning to look at Kuga, who presently surveyed the young demon's human appearance.

"He looks so… human… perfectly human," the headman murmured, cautious amazement in his eyes.

"Th-thank you," Shippou replied quietly, suddenly shrinking under such intense notice.

"Yes, it's a special skill of Shippou's," Miroku explained, noticing the concerned way that the headman continued to scrutinize his young friend. "But it's one he's still mastering currently and occasionally experiences slips on, so it's probably best if he also remains out here with the others."

"Oh Miroku, but-!" the kitsune immediately piped up fearfully, nervous sweat rolling out on his face. Looking more like a little child than the handsome adolescent he disguised himself as, he tightly knotted his hands into two little fists that he held up defensively in front of his chest. "What about Hachi, Kirara, and me? We don't wanna stay out here alone when those evil demons come tonight!" he whined shakily.

Meanwhile, the monk looked more openly guilty now at ordaining any kind of partition between the human and non-human members of their group, but he didn't budge. Instead, the monk placed his hands gently on the kitsune's shoulders and gazed reassuringly into his eyes: "Don't worry, Shippou, I swear you won't be alone. Kohaku and I will come for all three of you before nightfall—we'll definitely need you to help us on the look-out tonight."

"We have your approval for that, right, Headman Kuga?" the Buddhist finished, looking sideways back at the village patriarch. Sesshomaru thought he caught a hint of sympathy in the old headman's countenance, having witnessed the kitsune's frightened appeal.

After a moment's thought, Kuga replied judiciously: "Yes, how ye conduct yer defense of the village after the villagers have entered the village hall after the evening curfew is totally up t'ye."

After that, the rest of them made their way out of the stables. Behind them the heavy bolt was replaced on the stable doors with Shippou, Hachi, and Kirara still inside. Miroku, Kohaku and Rin followed Headman Kuga back around to the front of the village hall. Bringing up the rear, Sesshomaru couldn't help feeling smug that despite already being a type of prisoner, he had least not wound up under literal lock and key like the others. As the minutes followed, however, he remembered the horrendous living conditions of his present company. He quickly realized being among the humans would not be much less punishing.

The headman led them to a table surrounded by benches that had been set up not far from the village hall and a large fire pit. Over the pit, several solemn-faced, middle-aged women held metal racks, clamped between which were strips of the boar meat. The air at the fireside was overpowered with the smell of smoke and roasted meat. It struck Sesshomaru as dizzying rather than appealing.

On one side of the table, Miroku settled down beside Headman Kuga. Sesshomaru picked a spot at the end of a bench that was across the table from them. Although there were benches on either of the two adjacent sides of the table from him, to the old Western Lord's dismay, Kohaku slid in directly beside him. Unusually silent since they'd reached the village, Rin crowded in on the other side of the demon slayer. Sesshomaru grumbled and crossed his legs and arms, finding that he felt farther from the table than he would've liked. Oh well, it was too late to pull in closer now since the other two had already settled on the bench, he decided.

Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Kohaku fell into the headman and the monk's continued conversation about their wolf demon opponents. Feeling bored already, Sesshomaru chose to tune them out entirely.

The food—if it could be called that, Sesshomaru later thought— arrived soon enough. Some of the women who had been crouching around the firepit when they first walked up, plunked several half-filled wooden bowls of steaming liquid down in front of each of them. Sesshomaru looked down through the steam. It appeared to be some kind of porridge, a blend of mostly water mixed with rice and some kind of darker, coarser grain and lumps of a type of white tuber—potato or turnip? Honestly, it didn't matter much to Sesshomaru: he'd tasted it and immediately wanted no more. He thought back to his sister-in-law's mother's rice porridge that he'd eaten. Hers now seemed like ambrosia compared with this slop.

Soon after, they were brought charred strips of the boar's meat on small spits. Against his better judgment, Sesshomaru gnawed off a bit. He felt his mouth reflex downward into a frown as the sharp, unpleasant taste spread over his tongue. The dry, tough texture made him wish for water like a hot desert wind. Having devoured fresh, wild boar straight from the forest in his past life, Sesshomaru knew that the flesh could be quite delicious. But there was no question in his mind that this animal had been in poor condition for a while before the slaughter.

He looked around the table. Kuga and Miroku had both rejected the offered meat, the monk, touching some prayer beads on his wrist suggestively and saying he couldn't possibly. (The hypocrite! Sesshomaru had seen the monk eat plenty of meat on other occasions.) Inexplicably, Kohaku was already chewing down the last of his portion, evidently unfazed by the awful flavor. On the youth's other side, at least Rin too was wordlessly pushing hers around in her emptied porridge bowl… She was definitely lost in thought, but for the moment at least, she didn't seem too scared… He allowed himself to relax slightly on her account.

Still, Sesshomaru couldn't bare it anymore. With his companions distracted, he tossed his meat under the table, where a dirty looking, little mutt snatched it up. As the dog trotted off with his treasure, Sesshomaru got up from the bench and departed the table, unable to find any further reason to stay.

:::

Note: As always, I am thoroughly tickled by those of who continue to loyally read Dying to Live. Finding your reviews and follow/favorite notifications in my inbox is always the sunny spot in my day and a source of motivation. A special shout-out to Yuri-Ishtar this time for your super thoughtful review – of course, nothing about receiving such an encouraging review could 'annoy' me! I loved reading it! Thank you so much for even giving specific examples of things you liked. However, positive reviews that are one word or paragraphs long are still treats to me all the same ;)

I apologize for updating more slowly than molasses in January recently, but I hope you all continue to like what you read here and share your thoughts about it with me :D Hugs, dear readers – read and review on! Origamikungfu.