Band-Aids

by Cooking Spray

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3:

Snowbound

The first flakes of snow began to fall late that afternoon, cascading to Earth on their windswept journey and shrouding the landscape into a palisade of sparkling white. However, with the beauty came the cold, and a thin school uniform does little to prevent it from penetrating your skin.

A droplet of precipitation landed on Shippo's nose, making him squinch his eyes in reaction. He stared at the inflicted spot, becoming cross-eyed for a few moments, and soon pinpointed the miniscule snowflake as the cause of disaster. "Mou. . . Snowflakes?"

"Mmm?" Kagome questioned, craning her neck to look at the tiny kitsune youkai resting on her shoulder. They'd been traveling for quite some time, and she was looking forward to making camp again soon.

"It's snowing. . ." As if to prove his claim, a fresh drift of powder began to descend from the heavens, falling with increasing speed and rhythm.

Miroku scrutinized a flake as it fell upon his fingertip. "Well, what do you know. . ."

Sango stopped to stare up at the comfortably overcast sky, watching as the pluming splendor wafted down. "Winter's setting in early this year. . . I hope that the snow won't complicate things too much. We were nearing Naraku again."

Inuyasha, who had recovered fully from the papercut incident and was back to acting like his tough-guy self in redemption, just muttered annoyance at his companions. Stupid humans. They would rather sit around and babble about some dumb snow than focus on the mission ahead. . . Needless to say, he could have pulled off the attitude better if hadn't been wearing a Hamtaro band-aid on his finger.

". . .Feh. C'mon, Kagome." He seized the girl by the wrist and trudged on ahead, making her stumble and almost fall into him headlong.

"Aahh!" She found herself impressed into his back. Ah, gravity. "I-i-inuyasha. . . stop being so pushy. . ." She attempted to twist free, but a shiver coursed through her as an unexpected gust of wind ripped through her thin clothing, and she fell slack against him again. Well, on second thought, maybe this wasn't so bad. . . At least he seemed to be warm. . .

The others trotted into view at their own pace, Kirara bouncing along at the rear. They seemed to be discussing new battle tactics. Well, if they could do that in the midst of an impending blizzard, that suited Kagome just fine. At least they'd be ready when it was time for battle.

The wind chill increased and the flakes began to come down harder, starting to blur vision. This looked bad. Kagome was already chattering her teeth, and judging by Inuyasha's mood, the weather didn't seem to be too much of an obstacle for him. She envisioned everyone trying vainly to match his pace in an hour or so, covered in ice crystals. She sighed, knowing what she must do. Well, here goes. . .

"Anou. . . Inuyasha, do you think you could. . . maybe stop in a little while? I'm feeling a little cold," she added, chattering her teeth harder in emphasis.

Our slightly perverted priest apparently tuned into this. "Yes, Inuyasha, I think that might be a wise idea. After all, we're useless if our shard-seer has become an ice sculpture." He gave Kagome a wink that, panty-pincher or not, she was grateful for.

He couldn't believe it. How had he chosen such wimps for traveling companions? "Stop?" he snorted in disbelief. "We'll be near Naraku in a few hours. How can you even think of stopping? This weather's nothing."

"Inuyasha, pleaaaaaaaase?" Kagome was desperate. Already she was having to flex her toes and fingers to keep them from going numb. Her chocolate eyes were too large and pleading.

Damn that girl! She had to go and look all cute like that, didn't she? Now there was no way he could refuse. He ducked his head out of sight so she wouldn't know she'd gotten to him, and reluctantly consented. "Fine. I want you to know you're all a bunch of useless imps if you can't even stand some measly snowfall. I don't know how you're gonna last against Naraku." He turned to glare at all of them. "Just for this, we're leaving before sunrise tomorrow, since you insist on wasting so much time."

Victory! "Yatta!" Kagome chorused joyously, springing up and enfolding the bewildered hanyou in a happy embrace. The color in his cheeks began to rise against his will at this open display of affection, and he became all-too-aware of how close she was. "I knew you'd understand!"

A sly little grin crept onto the female demon exterminator's face. "You know," she said to Miroku, "she's got to stop doing that. One of these days she's going to give him a heart attack."

The priest just laughed, continuing to watch the spectacle, and Sango couldn't help but feel a pang of warmth at the genuinity of the sound.

~*~*~*~*~

Somewhere, in the deep of a nostalgic cave, there shone a circlet of fire-bright light. Even though it was of one dimension, it shone a million metamorphous refractions that dazzled the eyes. It truly was a marvel.

Hunched over the circlet there were two figures, one of much height and another who was yet low to the earth. Both, however, stood like equals bathed in the purifying touch of the mirror's reflection.

"What. . . is it for, Sesshoumaru-sama?" spoke the small girl after a great mystifying pause, her voice nary a whisper.

For a moment, the taiyoukai almost seemed to hesitate. But surely that could not be, because there was nothing he was uncertain about. "It is the mirror that contorts imagining into fact, and fact into imagining. The mirror that pulls from the souls of whom dare to glance into themselves in it. Komamachi mirror."

"Desired long life. . .?" Rin translated, her mind a jumble.

A nod. After a few moments more he elevated the mirror from its position on the floor, all of the luminescence diminishing. The glass rippled and it appeared an ordinary hand mirror. He searched into it, being met only with the image of his always nondescript face.

"What will you do with it, Sesshoumaru-sama?" Now Rin was curious. Though she'd seen more bloodshed and worldly horrors than even the average five-year-old of the time, the magical allure of this elusively ordinary mirror attracted her interest.

"I shall gain back what is rightfully mine from all of those who have stolen from me." He set it with an echoing plink! face-down onto a nearby rock formation without further comment. Rin knew that Sesshoumaru had been cheated of many things, some of which she knew very little. But she knew that this upset him very much. Rin didn't like him to be upset, so getting back what these mean people had stolen with the magical mirror seemed like a very good idea. This made her like it even more, and she stared at its shining copper base with fondness.

While she was still enjoying the great novelty of this, a new realization dawned upon her that caused her to begin searching the cave. One of them was gone. "Where is Jaken?" asked Rin to Sesshoumaru, confused.

"He is running errands for me." The shortness of his voice indicated that something else was clearly wrong, but Rin didn't think it very prudent to pry. It seemed sometimes that her Lord had no heart, like that girl with the arrows said, but she knew he never got annoyed with her questions. And since no one before in her life had listened very much, this gave him more credit in her book than most would have thought.

"So it is just Sesshoumaru-sama and me?"

"Yes."

The sight of her joy at this made the ghost-grin almost, but not quite, resurface of the demon lord's face. Almost.

"I like that."

For once, perhaps the first time in years, Sesshoumaru was at a loss of words to say to that. So instead, he allowed her to curl up next to him and sleep, feeling a strange twinge not so far from the mark of content at her presence.

When Jaken returned much, much later that night to find them both sleeping together, like he had never seen his lord sleep, he was so astounded that he dropped the two buckets of water he had balanced on his back and watched in awe as neither woke.

~*~*~*~*~

"Eat up, everyone!"

Five pairs of eyes followed the monk apprehensively as he sat a vat of boiling soup with pride over the fire that was warming the hut. They were hungry, yes. . . but as they caught a glance of the acclaimed "food", the hunger rapidly began to rethink itself.

Sango's eyebrow disappeared beyond the boundary of her bangs. "Are you. . . certain that this is edible, Houshi-sama?" She held her bowl and spoon with a more hesitant poise.

He laughed heartily, making her wince. "Of course, Lady Sango! Whatever would make you doubt my culinary skills?"

"Quite a lot of things you're probably not aware of. . ." she mumbled, but he failed to catch it.

Even Shippo, who was usually always enthusiastic when it came to food, seemed a little wary. "What's in that stuff?"

Inuyasha sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "Smells a little like. . . youkai droppings. . ."

Miroku's pride was beginning to sag. Kagome noticed this, and, with only a gulp and a glance at the cauldron, quickly set out to right it. It couldn't possibly be that bad, could it. . .?

"Oh, I'm sure it's just fine," she piped in a tone meant to assure, setting her teeth into a very forced smile. A look in Miroku's direction. "Could I have a bowl, please?"

Everyone looked at her with silent disbelief as Miroku proudly began to ladle the foreign matter into her bowl. "Certainly, Kagome-sama!" He gazed at her expectantly as he sunk the ladle back in, hands on his hips in a strident pose. "Tell them how good it tastes."

Another dreadful look at the soup. It did smell a little foul, now that she noticed, and there were strange lumps in it. . . Well, there was no backing out now. She'd volunteered, hadn't she? With one last, deep breath, the shoved the spoon into her mouth and awaited her fate.

"Did you just. . .?" Sango's expression was a mixture of revolt and pure horror.

"See, I told you it was edible!" Miroku announced with newly-instilled confidence.

Sango didn't look so convinced. "I'm not so sure. . . Kagome-chan?"

Kami-sama, save her. The stuff was awful. She'd gladly have eaten anything rather than this. It tasted like a putrid blend of the worst possible rancid things; where Miroku had conjured up ingredients this disgusting completely blew her mind. Sango's voice barely registered, and her throat began to close shut. If death had a flavor, this was it. Please, say she didn't have to swallow it. . .

Inuyasha blinked, looking at her apparently petrified stupor with concern. "Kagome?" No answer. "Kagome?" A faint whimper. What had that monk done to her? "Miroku! What'd you put in that crap?" he demanded of the now-uncomfortable-looking monk.

"Ah. . . only the ingredients that were in that recipe book of Sango's. . ."

Now she was angry. "Idiot! That wasn't a recipe book; that was tome of demon combatants! Are you trying to murder us?!"

Kagome began to whimper more urgently, bringing Inuyasha's attention back from his momentary thoughts of homicide toward Miroku. "Kagome!" He began to beat her on the back, perhaps a little too hard, but eventually it worked and she spat the vile stuff out, looking both frightened and relieved.

"Are you alright?" He gripped her shoulders, jerking her body to face him. His saffron eyes radiated undisolved anxiety.

She didn't nod right away, still dazed by the after-effects of the killer soup but also enjoying the hanyou's attention. Eventually she bobbed her head up and down, and he released her in relieved satisfaction of her well-being, focusing as everyone else was on the unfortunate monk.

"Houshi-sama. . . you're so gonna pay for this. . ."

A nervous bead of sweat formed at the accused's head. "Now, wait just a moment here, I didn't mean to-"

"Silence! Criminals who don't have any compassion for my friends don't get alibis!" Shippo shouted in reprimand as he too joined in the action, thrusting a now-you're-gonna-get-it finger. "Sic him, Kirara!"

Kagome sighed at the sounds of violence that ensued, cringing again as the horrid taste flooded her taste buds. Perhaps they'd better stick to ramen from now on. . .

~*~*~*~*~

The snow that had fallen unrelentingly since that afternoon had began to slacken, the gusts of wind less harsh as the night crept on. The fire had dwindled into a comforting, humble blaze, and the accursed soup had been disposed of. Cots were being unsheathed and spread upon the floor in hopes of sleep for a full day of traversing ahead, but for most closing their eyes were the last things on their minds at the moment.

Miroku, still drawing pain from the bruises of his previous beating, was definitely not dreaming of shutting his eyes yet. The lack of conversation between he and Sango as they laid their beds upon the ground was thick in the air, and as he caught sight of the tightness of her jaw, he decided then and there that he must end the conflict between them again, rather than go to bed angry.

He abandoned the mattress and straightened, watching her posture constrict as she sensed him about to talk. Great sigh tumbling from him, he launched into the difficult speech.

"I wouldn't have tried to feed you that soup if I'd have known what it was." Leave it to Sango to get all worked up about something as trivial as soup in the middle of a greater life-impending crisis. Unbidden, a grin tugged onto his face, and he continued. "I'm not always the most. . . common-sense resourceful of people." Maybe taking out some of the blow on himself would gain a response.

It worked, sure enough. She whipped around, brow furrowed in her special brand of raw anguish. "How can you say such things so lightly? Who knows what would have happened to her if she'd actually eaten it?" She started to rotate back toward the direction of her bedding, but he caught her wrist. The contact surprised her, and she was forced into listening.

"The most it would have done was give her an upset stomach. I'd have felt rotten, admittedly, but a stomachache is hardly a problem at this time." She felt her hardened repose struggling under his confused smile. Why did he have to look like he meant it? "So what's bothering you? Kagome-sama is alright."

He allowed her to wrench his hand away. She detested these kind of confrontations, especially when the other person involved happened to be Miroku. A verbal explanation failed to make sense of it. Why was she angry? She was not really certain. . . after a while, she had clung to it without a real cause, and now it seemed that the problem was not so much about soup and very much about Miroku himself.

He saw her struggling to put her thoughts into words, saw the flare in her dwindle and almost vaporize until she spoke again, very softly. "I just. . . don't want you doing any more idiotic things." It wasn't a good answer, of that they both were well aware, but Miroku was wont to tempt her again from her range of comfort. For now, the feeble exchange was good enough.

Sango allowed her welled-up breath to pour from her in one great, soul-emptying expellation of alleviation when he did not press. At times like this, she was not sure of things with her feelings or herself. She did not like to ponder it too often. But. . . despite the tremors that ripped through her, she felt gratitude toward him that, at the moment, could not be without more clarity and meaning.

Another smile. "Well, I can't promise you anything. . . But if it means that you'll consider banging me around less, it can't be of any hindrance to try."

In answering, the last of the anger faded and transfigured into the feeling of oddity that was slowly setting in, just as in all times like these, she managed a weak smile of respect. She, now both burden-free and burden-ridden, settled into the cot and faced into the shadow-work of the wooden wall, still trembling and mind racing.

He did likewise, humoring her pride, knowing well how she dealt with overwhelming complex emotions. The fire smoldered and dwindled, and, after a time, in semi-darkness, he offered: "Goodnight, Sango."

Still ever-so crumpled, and bidding sleep to come so that she could regain with morning her strength that would not now return, she too replied in the scarcest of whispers: "Goodnight. . . Miroku."

Mayhap an ordinary person wouldn't have heard, but Miroku did, and that alone helped him to drift away into sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

In the meantime, our male and female leads were enjoying the last of the dying embers outside, gazing into a slightly snow-tinted sky. It was a rare moment of silence between the two, and neither were too keen on breaking it.

Kagome shifted on the log which was being implemented as a makeshift seat, not minding the temperature so much as long as she was able to have Inuyasha's company. As usual, it had been a full day, and both were happy to bask in the relaxation. She inhaled the musky air deeply, content seeping through her, and rested her chin in her palms.

"Inuyasha?"

He turned to look at her, hair a thousand shining scintillations and eyes vibrant golden pools in the moonlight. "Hm?"

The queer, stomach-tickling, heart-lurching sensation happened. He was so. . . stunning. . . She shook her head sheepishly and continued, ending her daydreaming. "What. . . will happen when we find Naraku?"

He swivled his gaze into the remains of the nearly-doused fire in contemplation. There was no speech for many moments, and as the moments ticked by Kagome began to rethink asking him.

"I don't know," was the delayed answer he had labored so hard in turning up. "Naraku has a nearly completed Shikon no Tama with him, and even though we have a lot of shards, they're pretty pitiful in comparison to that kind of power. We're strong, but. . . against him, I don't know. But we have to try."

She nodded solemnly, line of vision falling to the heavily snow-encrusted ground. All of what he said was true, and that meant he still wanted to become a full demon. Now and then she'd asked him, each time trying to change his mind, but he had it set. It wasn't so much anymore about avenging Kikyou. . . he didn't even stop to question it, it had been his goal for such a long time. She hoped, that when the time came, she'd be able to make him realize. . . Now, however, was not a good time or place for a debate. It simply wasn't the mood. Instead, she opted for the only other thing that could console her in times like these.

"Inuyasha?" Her voice was timid as she called his attention for the second time.

"Yeah?" He was still serious.

"I'm cold again." Without warning, she scooted across the log until she was against him, relaxing her body into his for warmth.

"Wha-?" His eyes went wide at the sudden contact. "Kagome, what're you-?" He felt her sigh sleepily, completely trusting, and all of his energy to resist was vanquished as effortlessly as if it was never there.

"Well, then." He too relaxed then, indulging in a soft smile. A time waned on, both making no move to break the transference, and Inuyasha felt her break into the regulated, even breaths of slumber. Lifting her ever-so gingerly, he placed her light frame inside the sleeping bag she's set out earlier, watching her dream on in innocent oblivion to his stare.

He was glad they'd stopped, after all.

~*~*~*~*~

Authoress's General Disclaimer: Excessive thought of Cooking Spray as the true creator of Inuyasha may result in legal complications. As will reading too much fan fiction, but that may only result in permanent corruption of the mind, which warrants a visit to your friendly neighborhood psychologist. Nope, a band-aid won't fix this.

Fluffiness abound! I was in the mood to write a romantic chapter. In addition, we learned a little about the mirror. It sounds like a hokey plot device, but. . . I'm notoriously slow at stringing things together.

Also, my friend Angel (read her story The Little Demon Girl on fictionpress!) met a Japanese man while chatting online who says he's a screenwriter for Inuyasha! We're still waiting for validity, but if he turns out to be truthful, he said he might consider this fic for a future episode! Probably won't happen, but still cool, no? He also said that he'd have all his friends review. Sugoi!

Please send all commentary by clicking 'Go'!

~*NEXT CHAPTER*~

Symptoms

Kouga and his companions run into the sextet of heroes and spawn old jealousies anew that leave everyone with a drop of sweat at their temple. However, things soon cool at the arrival of a bustling trade village, where a shard is gained but also lost. Also, Sesshoumaru's small party has began to become entwined in the mystery that is the mirror. . .