A/N: baka deshi reviewed "Flowers In Love" despairing of this poor story's fate, so I, feeling extremely guilty, ran off to finish this installment as quickly as I could. Unfortunately, I got grounded about five minutes later. ^_^;;

I'm sorry; I've been neglectful! *looks nervously at "The Skin I'm In," which has dropped to #30-something in the update list* But school's been a killer, especially lately, so I'm afraid updates probably won't get much faster unless someone out there hits me over the head with the inspiration mallet. Plus, well . . . I just haven't felt like writing for Inu-Yasha for a while now. I've been doing Digimon and Yu-Gi-Oh! instead. *sighs* Maybe when I finally get my hands on a couple more volumes of IY, I'll be able to work with these guys more.

Oh, and for those of you happy to see this chappie, go thank my darling Katalyst- she promised to write more Sessmiro if I did. ^_~ And also dear tdei, who did beta-ing and made suggestions.

Miroku's POV. A bit lime-ish. And hey, traces of plot! O_O;; How'd that get in here?

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"Ink and Paper"

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"So lonely am I

My body is a floating weed

Severed at the roots.

Were there water to entice me,

I would follow it, I think."

~Ono no Komachi

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Shou-sama pushes me away even as he takes my face in his hands again, and my own fingers lace together behind his neck. His eyes really do look gold, I realize distantly. Not some gaudy yellow, but a hazy, dull glitter.

He smells nice, under all that mud and blood. Instinctively, I start to unwrap the dirt-encrusted bandages that used to be part of my outfit and comb my fingers through his hair, dragging out the leaves and filth.

"What are you doing?" he asks, a trace of annoyance in his voice.

Damn, I was hoping he'd know.

"I want to see what you really look like," I decide finally, rubbing at the mud on Shou-sama's chest. And I do want to know what he looks like cleaned up. I want to see if he's still beautiful.

"Wh-what the hell?!" he squawks. "Don't DO that!" After a moment's confusion, I realize that my fingers have brushed over sensitive areas more than once during my ministrations- places you don't touch unless you mean to finish what you're starting.

"Sorry," I say vaguely, and do it again.

Shou-sama yelps and pushes me back a step. "Miroku!" he snaps, slightly breathless.

"Sorry . . ." I whisper once more, and run my fingers down his sides. He's squirming under my touch, but not really trying to get away anymore. Does that mean he's uncomfortable, or does that mean that he likes it?

I think that I like it.

My hands are at his hips now. His face is pink, and he isn't meeting my eyes.

But he isn't saying "no" either.

My face is buried in his throat before I know what I am doing. He smells wonderful. He's startled, though, and we end up falling down into the water. He comes up first, smoothing back his mangled hair and avoiding my eyes for a moment, his face still a brilliant red.

"You're very beautiful," I say quietly as I rise to face him. His face reddens further, but he makes no move to stand, to escape, and instead looks over to me again.

"So are you," he murmurs, staring at me almost bemusedly. "We should go back, though. You're bleeding again, and I don't think that I could bandage you properly. I've . . . never really had to do it before."

"In a little while," I reply, still quiet. I'd hate to have to speak too loudly. For some reason, the very thought seems almost sacrilegious right now. Shou-sama just looks at me, perfectly solemn, and meets my eyes without hesitation.

It's so warm here. Despite the freezing water and the wind, it's warm.

I want to . . .

I lift a hand to his face, and everything is suddenly ice again.

My hand. The rosary. The Air Rip.

Had I actually forgotten? Even just for a moment, had I really forgotten about it?

"What is it?" Shou-sama looks confused, and I realize that I'm trembling.

"Nothing, Shou-sama," I whisper, withdrawing my hand and trying not to stare at it. I fail miserably. "Just thinking."

"Ah. About the void," Shou-sama realizes quietly, his eyes following mine.

He's a clever bastard. Much too clever for someone like me, who needs to hide their heart away. And I want to push him away now, but I don't know how to do it. When Sango gets too close, I can grope her; if it's Inu-Yasha I can just say something about his feelings for Kagome-sama to distract him. Shippou- well, he's never been close enough to worry me, and Kagome-sama herself is too polite to trespass in my soul unless it is a life- or-death situation.

But Shou-sama is more intelligent than Inu-Yasha, less empathic than Kagome-sama, and, unlike Sango, seems to at least tolerate being groped and can still carry on a conversation no matter where my hands are. I don't know how to stop him from noticing things.

Besides . . . I almost think that I like seeing him look at me with those dull gold eyes, expecting something more of me than a toy smile.

I don't realize that I'm crying until he wipes the tears away.

"Let us finish and return to camp," he says, slightly coolly, as he finally gets to his feet and offers me a limp hand. "I think you need stitches."

I take it lightly and stand without really drawing on him; wincing as half-healed wounds are pulled open again. He's already scrubbing at the remaining mud on himself with one of the less-stained bandages. His skin is even paler than I'd realized. I just watch him for a while, and he gives me a dubious look.

"Get cleaned up," he orders with a voice used to being obeyed. Certainly a lord's son. I comply silently, still watching him. He looks back at me as he rinses the last of the mud away, and I shiver at seeing him like this.

He's fucking gorgeous. Black hair like wet ink scribbled over parchment-pale skin, eyes huge and amber and still so damn close to gold I'd swear they were if I didn't know he was human.

But he is human. He must be.

Surely, he must be . . .

And then Shippou bounces into the clearing and cannonballs into the water directly behind Shou-sama, who shouts in alarm and leaps forward into my arms.

Shippou laughs at him while I secretly memorize the feeling of having his ink-and-paper skin pressed up against my own from thigh to forehead and his breath hot and harsh in my ear. I'm lucky not to faint on the spot.

A moment later, Inu-Yasha enters the clearing as well, looking rather frazzled and clearly having been been "sat" again.

"Kagome-sama wanted you to bathe also?" I assume. Judging from the irritated growl I receive in answer, that assumption is correct, and Kagome-sama's opinion was probably not expressed in the kindest terms possible.

"Wow," Shippou says in surprise, staring over at Shou-sama. "You really clean up well, huh?"

Shou-sama glowers at him. "What is THAT supposed to mean?" he demands.

"Stop clinging to the monk like that!" Inu-Yasha snaps, throwing the remnants of Shou-sama's kimono at us. "You look like you're about to fuck each other!"

"Are you trying to suggest something?!" Shou-sama shouts as he breaks away from me and I catch his robes. "You arrogant little pup, I'll kill you!" He cracks his knuckles- I'm surprised to see that he does it the same way Inu-Yasha always has, which I haven't often seen duplicated.

"With WHAT, pray tell?" Inu-Yasha snarls in reply, shucking off his own clothes to join us in the water. "Bozou!" he adds, glaring at me and not letting Shou-sama respond. "Why the hell didn't you tell us you were that slashed up?! Kagome would've wanted to get some of her bandages on you!"

"I will do it myself," I promise, neatly folding Shou-sama's shredded kimono and returning to the bank to reclaim my own outfit. "I'm finished here anyway."

"Great," Inu-Yasha mutters, clearly displeased. "Abandon me with the baby and the woman."

"EXCUSE me?" Shou-sama hisses in what was probably considered a very dangerous voice in his household. Here, where he has no power to back it up, it sounds almost silly. I decide that it would probably be foolish to leave him with Inu-Yasha- mostly for fear he'll get himself mauled; partly for fear he'll end up hating us and want to leave before I get to know him better.

That would not be pleasant.

Not at all.

"Come with me," I say as I finish dressing, holding out my hand for his this time. "Help me with the bandages, perhaps. I'll teach you how to do it."

"If you insist," Shou-sama mutters. I lean towards him slightly. He pushes me away, but then presses up to me for a brief moment before reclaiming his ruined clothes and beginning to put them on.

Inu-Yasha snatches them away quickly. "Don't wear that crap!" he fumes. "You'll catch fucking hypothermia and then Kagome will make us hang around on your deathbed and give you a funeral!"

"Like running around naked is any better?!" Shou-sama demands. I don't know about that- personally, I rather like the idea.

"Just wear my jacket, asshole," Inu-Yasha orders. "I don't wanna have to watch Kagome play nursemaid to the likes of you."

"I need nothing of yours, half-breed!" Shou snaps, and he might say more, but I press a hand to his mouth and pull him to me.

"Stop, please," I request coldly. "Your family would prefer it, I am sure, if you would not insult those who have tried to help you despite not knowing you."

He snorts. "Somehow I doubt they'd care."

His attitude is terrible. Also terribly attractive, oddly enough.

I think I'm really in trouble this time.

Angry, Shou-sama snatches the jacket from the ground and stalks past me even as he wraps it around himself. Inu-Yasha, looking equally displeased, shreds Shou-sama's kimono and then throws it to the ground for good measure.

"Keep that asshole in line," he orders flatly, glaring over to me. "You brought him; he's your responsibility."

I fake a benign smile and decline to argue. It's not like I could anyway. Instead, I just reclaim the discarded clothes and follow Shou-sama back towards camp.

It's hard to believe that a moment ago I was suspecting him of being some sort of youkai spy when I see what a horribly obvious trail he's left in the foliage.

But it's a hell of a lot harder to believe that he got all the way out here alive leaving said trail.

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* tbc . . . *

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. : still water runs deep : .