Short as all hell. Only a little more than a blurb, really. It's just because I'm procrastinating on the RR – I hit a plateau.

Fixing a Hole

By Rurouni Star

I don't know what I was doing.

It wasn't something I would normally do. For all of my self-perceived wisdom, I can be a coward and I am many times over. Sometimes, in battle, I freeze up, I realize for just an instant that I am human and I have no place trying to pretend I know what I'm doing. Training disappears – what good is it, really, anyway? – and I'm aware for a splinter of a moment just how mortal I am.

But more often, it's the other things I run from. When women twitter at me, I can understand it, I can smile and take their hand in mine and praise them. But when they cry, when they tell me things I don't want to hear – the things in their souls, the things they hide deeply, in the corners of their hearts – I lose all knowledge, all control of the situation. And when my tunnel opens, something inside me cries out to close it before it can widen.

Before I can die.

Yes.

I'm afraid of death.

I'm afraid of all too much.

So why was I gathering her in my arms as she stood there, petrified, looking as I do when no one can see me?

Why was I standing there with her, letting a claw rip through the cloth on my back, parting the skin beneath it and letting free the blood I fight so hard to keep hold of?

The answer scared me. And… it hurt just a little.

Because she was horrified as I smiled at her the same way I smile at all of them, as I ruffled her hair with a trembling hand, beads clinking together in the stillness that ensued.

And even though I was still frightened, it was almost comedic how her shoulders shook. She didn't believe it. I didn't believe it. People say that in the heat of battle, you can't feel pain – but truthfully, it tore and it screamed through me. It was hard to believe something like that with a thousand painful needles gouging into my back.

Darkness really was a mercy, then.

At least, came the pain-fogged thought, I am not a coward this time.

.

.

"Miroku-sama… are you… are you awake?"

The pain was still there. It didn't feel lessened in the least.

I wanted to ignore her and drop back into that mercifully painless darkness. So I said, "No."

Kagome let out a sniffle, and I realized that she thought I was joking with her. All for the best, really – I couldn't put together enough of a sentence to do it otherwise.

"Why?" she managed.

The feeling came back into my arm. It was a strange thing; I felt disconnected from it since my back took so very much of my attention. I tried halfheartedly to move it, then realized it was being held down by something I couldn't feel. I was about to try again when her fingers tightened on my hand and pushed through the numbness.

"Why!" she said again, sounding closer to losing control now. I struggled to clear the haze in my mind.

"You're important," I laughed, straining my body. "And you're rather pretty as well."

That was the extent of my wit for the day. I had the feeling it would have to recharge if I lived through this.

Something wet dropped onto my face and I winced.

"He- he says he's really sorry," she whispered. "He is, I swear he is. He's never looked so awful before, he said he ought to be thrown off a cliff-"

"It's not his fault," I murmured. "I was the stupid one that threw myself in the way."

She choked. "But he never went after me before. He said it shouldn't have happened… he said he wished he was the one laying here."

I ran my thumb over her palm momentarily, trying to understand the way she was. She was compassionate. She was precious. She was her. And she was hurting.

"You're broken," I muttered.

Her hand was shaking, and the salty tears were hitting my face more often now.

"Yes," she whispered. "But only because you are."

I managed a weak smile. "Can you fix me?"

Kagome pressed her lips to my forehead then, and I realized she had.

"I'll try," she told me.