Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Blink 182's 'Asthenia'
Painted
VIII. Asthenia
-
Should I go back, should I go back, should I?
I hope I won't forget you
-
March 1947
Her arm still swelled from the injections she had been given at the hospital, but she kept on running. She didn't know where she was going and why, but she just felt like moving. It was mid-afternoon in the city, one of the busiest points of the day, proving that the economy was on a steady climb.
Rubbing her arm up and down, she wandered through the markets and businesses, letting it sink in that she was now free and completely on her own.
Could she find her home? Was it even possible when she didn't even know where she was now, aside from downtown Kyoto? Deep inside, she knew that things always had a way of turning life upside down for her and for that reason, she pushed all thought of finding him out of her mind.
A little boy, who looked not a day past eight, approached her and tugged at the hem of her kimono.
"Hello," Sango greeted. "Are you lost?"
The young boy shook his head.
"Here," he said in a shy voice, offering her single sprig of a magnolia blossom. "My name is Akio. My sister said I could give this to you."
"Really?" Sango said with a smile, looking towards the corner where a girl about her age stood with a basket of flowers. "Why?"
"I told her you were pretty," he confessed with a blush. "And you look sad."
Sango's eyes softened as she took the flower and tucked it into her hair above her ear. "Well, I am kind of sad, but this really cheered me up," she said gently, bending to his level.
"Me too," the little boy continued. "Our mother is very sick, so Onee-chan has to sell her flowers to make some money."
"Well, I'm sorry but I have no money that I can give you," Sango apologized. "But I hope everything works out and that your Mother gets better, okay?"
He nodded profusely, blushing a bit.
"Thank you very much for the flower, it smells wonderful," she said, and kissed him briefly on the cheek. He beamed at her, before weaving through the crowds back to the flower merchant.
"You're welcome."
Sango watched as he hugged his sister around the legs and she patted him on the head, and memories tugged at her mind.
"I'm going to miss you too Kohaku. But I will be back to visit. I promise."
"My brother," she whispered, clutching a hand to her heart.
Where would she go? She had no money, no form of transportation, she was lost, and she didn't know anyone in the city she could go to for help.
--
It had been close to a week since Miroku had gone on the fruitless search for Sango that had yielded nothing, save for the fact that she was gone from Naraku's hands and was somewhere in the city, free. Still distraught, but overwhelmingly relieved, Kagome had to return to her village, taking Inuyasha with her. She had left him with a reassurance that the both of them, much to Inuyasha's disgruntlement, would be back again within the next two weeks, to run a few monthly errands.
Miroku wandered through the alleyways of the slums, as he usually did in the morning hours while on his way to the town. As he worked during the day, he procured a set of western style clothes, complete with the pants and collared shirt, which he opted for instead of his priestly robes, which were nothing but a costume now.
This time, as he walked the familiar route, with a few homeless huddled around oil drums and sitting along the walls of buildings, the form of a thin boy stood out from everything else. There were bags under his eyes and his complexion was pasty and pale. He looked up and met Miroku's eyes briefly, before striding purposefully in his direction.
Miroku smirked knowingly when the boy collided with him, as he felt a telltale tug at his pockets. As the boy turned to apologize, Miroku grabbed his arm firmly.
"Please hand me back my money, young lad," he said with a brittle smile. The boy looked at him with wide eyes, and then suddenly attempted to bolt. Miroku's grip only tightened around his arm and he gave in.
"Here," the boy said quietly, stuffing the wad of bills into Miroku's outstretched palm. "Let me go."
"Wait," the older man said, still not letting go, though his hold loosened. "Are you here alone?"
"What does it look like," he replied, though not in a rude manner. "Of course I am. I'm sorry for trying to steal from you, okay?"
"Here," Miroku said shortly, pulling a few coins and notes from his pockets and dropping them into his hands. He looked up wordlessly.
"Why are you -"
"Just walk with me for a minute."
The young boy fell into step beside Miroku, continuing on his trek into town.
"So...I guess I'll introduce myself. My name is Miroku," he said, offering his hand, which the youth took awkwardly, shaking it briefly and then dropping it.
"Umm...hello. I guess you can call me Ko-"
He paused, hesitating, and Miroku raised his eyebrow, looking at him expectantly.
"Kotaro."
They stared at each other for a few moments before Kotaro's gaze dropped to the ground in front of him.
"Why did you start stealing, Kotaro?" Miroku asked with an air of casualness.
"Why do you want to know?" the boy replied accusingly.
"Because if you're caught, they'll throw you in prison. You look old enough to know that. And trust me, prison is not a nice place at all."
"Even compared to this dump?" Kotaro muttered.
"Yes, compared to this. Worse," Miroku said pointedly.
"Listen, why is this so important?" he whined.
Miroku sighed loud and dramatically. "I don't think that it's safe for teenage boys to be roaming the streets of Kyoto stealing from others. I should report you! Imagine the tragedy that would befall us. They should all be put in jail."
"Okay, you win," Kotaro sighed. He stuffed his hands as deep into his pockets as he could.
"I was freed from slave labour about six months ago, my father was drafted into the military, I have no damn idea where he is, and my mom died from exhaustion one day. I don't know the details because I wasn't even with her when she did. The officers separated us."
"Well...I'm...sorry for your loss," Miroku said in an unrecognizable tone.
"I have a sister..." Kotaro began in a quiet voice.
"What was that?"
"Oh...nothing...just...something in my throat," he coughed. He knew he had said it loud enough for Miroku to hear, but he did not pursue the subject.
'That's all he needs to know about my parents anyway,' Kotaro thought to himself. ' Anything else and...Well, I'm not looking for pity.'
"So, where are we going?" the young boy asked in an attempt to make the silence less uncomfortable for him.
"To the city. We're going to find you some real work, okay?"
Kotaro shook his head in disbelief. "What am I to you?"
"I just don't want to see any more young people getting into stealing and things like that in the slums. We have enough of that already."
The youth turned the coins in his pockets between his fingers as the hustle and bustle of the city rose in his ears.
--
"What's a young flower like you doing in the slums?" another scratchy voice asked as a dirty hand reached for the skirt of her kimono. "Spare a bit of change?"
Sango half-heartedly tugged her skirt away from the hand. She had been feeling strangely dizzy about an hour's walk into the heart of the city, and now in the dingy slums, the fumes and scent of garbage was heavily affecting her vision and co-ordination.
"I have no money," she said vaguely, wobbling her way across the alleys.
She rubbed her arm out of habit. It couldn't be the drugs that were making her drowsy, could it? Wouldn't they have told her? Or were they in such a rush to make space for new patients that they simply pumped her full of any old drug lying around.
She stopped and leaned heavily against a wall, rubbing her hands on her face in an attempt to bring her mind to focus.
Eventually, she found herself sliding down the wall to a seated position beside a stack of large empty crates someone had obviously put out as trash. She brought her knees to her chest, and wrapped herself into ball as small as she could.
Suddenly she felt so cold.
--
"You call that 'real work'?" Kotaro said laughingly as he walked ahead of Miroku back to their makeshift homes in the slums.
"Hey, it's honest work," Miroku retorted with a small smile. "And you can't get arrested for it."
"True," the boy remarked. "But I think that even if gutting fish was illegal...no one would arrest you for it because you'd smell so bad."
"Come to think of it...we probably smell horrible," Miroku added.
"We do," the young boy nodded in agreement.
Miroku watched as the boy walked into the fast darkening alley and the familiar area he had seem him in earlier, the light emanating from the still-burning oil drums causing the shadows to deepen in the early evening.
Even though he lived in the same area, Miroku couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. At night he heard the sirens and the scuffles, and somehow, being in an actual room helped him feel a tad safer, though it didn't really help nonetheless.
"Kotaro...are you sure you don't want to spend the night indoors? It'll be cramped...but I don't mind. It's dangerous out here."
But the boy wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring at something behind a pile of old crates and nudging it with his foot.
"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Are you okay?"
"What is it?" Miroku inquired, now curious.
"There's someone lying here...and they're shaking. I don't think they're sleeping though. It's a girl...I've never seen her here before."
Wordlessly, the older man had already approached and dropped to his knees beside the form, which was heavily shrouded in a makeshift blanket that was a burlap sack.
"Are you sure it's okay to move her?" Kotaro asked uneasily.
Miroku ignored him as he pulled the dirty material away from the figure, revealing a worn and faded kimono that had obviously seen better days. His breath hitched as his eyes darted to the long tresses that spilled onto the dark asphalt, and the single magnolia blossom among them.
He couldn't contain himself, as quickly and gently as he could, he gripped the girl's shoulders and turned her onto her back. Her eyes were shut, and he could see that her bottom lip was trembling and her arms were wrapped around herself to maintain warmth.
"Sango..." he breathed. "Damn...Sango, wake up!" He placed a hand under her bangs and to his horror she was burning up terribly. Hauling her to his chest, he desperately rubbed his hands about her back to stop her from shivering.
She mumbled something incoherently against his shoulder, and he tipped her back to look at her. "Sango...it's me," he said gently, trying to ignore how bloodshot her eyes were. "Remember me?"
"Which one?" she said in a slurred voice, letting her head droop. "There's an awful lot of you. You smell like fish. Go away."
"Sango," he said in dismay. "It's Miroku."
She looked up at him again and a flash of recognition flitted across her face. "Miroku has a brother?" she asked tiredly as she tried to look around. "Tell Miroku-sama I miss him," she sighed, and fell limp once again.
"No, Sango, keep talking. Don't go to sleep yet, I want you to walk with me, can you do that?" he asked, slinging her arm around his shoulders and securing his own around her waist. He picked up the fallen flower and tucked it into her obi.
"I'm tired," she murmured sleepily. "And I'm cold."
"Just walk for a bit, about a block, okay?" Miroku insisted as he hoisted her to her feet and clutched her tightly so she wouldn't collapse. "Stand, Sango."
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand slowly while he struggled to steady her.
"Kotaro," Miroku called to the boy, who was standing away from them with his hands in his pockets. He hadn't said anything for awhile. "Can you help me out here? Kotaro!"
The boy jumped as Miroku called his name again. He stared at the two, and hesitated. "What exactly do you need help with?" he said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
"What does it look like? Please, just help me carry her to my place."
He hesitated again before walking towards them. "Well...I suppose."
As Kotaro approached them, Sango's hand dropped from her face and she came face to face with him.
Miroku watched as she wavered on the spot, and reached out to touch the boy's cheek. Her fingers were inches from his face when he backed up a step, holding his hands out in front of him.
"It's really you," he managed to say.
Sango cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Is that you...Kohaku? You've really grown."
With a laboured sigh, her arm fell and her body grew slack at once, catching Miroku by surprise as he bent to the ground and prepared to carry her. He took a second to run over what he had just seen in his head a few times before looking up at the boy, still standing as though frozen.
"You...you're Kohaku, aren't you?" Miroku said quietly. Though he made no sign he had heard him, his silence confirmed it.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say something?"
He still couldn't muster a response.
Miroku lifted Sango's small frame into his arms and was prepared to continue walking, when he finally heard Kohaku's voice from behind him.
"She left us."
He stopped in his tracks, but did not turn around.
"She left us when I was only eight years old. She said - she told me to take care of everyone. Our parents are dead. She never came back...She - I thought she hated us."
His throat felt dry and his voice was coarse.
Miroku turned around, balancing Sango in his arms, an unreadable expression crossing his features.
"There are alot of things you don't know."
--
Rain had begun to pound on the single window of Miroku's rented room. Inside, three were squished into the small space. One on the bed, the other sitting next to it, and one standing by the window.
"A prostitute," Kohaku repeated.
"That's right."
"A prostitute."
"Yes."
Kohaku turned to the window and pressed his forehead against the cool glass.
"A prostitute."
Miroku sighed and replaced the wet cloth on Sango's forehead with another, freshly wrung one.
"Listen, Kohaku, I know it's a lot to take in, but you need to know."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks for...telling me," he said, still staring out the spotted window.
"And it wasn't because she was ashamed, or angry, or had anything against her family, I know for a fact she loved you and your parents more than anything in the world."
"So then...why?"
"She couldn't. The man that owned her, that took her away, forbade her to leave. She wanted to see you, especially after the bombs dropped, but she wasn't allowed to."
"Why wouldn't he let her go...I know my sister is stronger than that, she could have just left, couldn't she?" Kohaku asked, willing his mind to make sense of it all.
"She couldn't. She was watched there, and if she were caught, there would be consequences."
"Consequences?"
"Abuse."
"Abuse....meaning...he hit her? How can someone do that?"
"I don't know," Miroku said shortly before his attention turned to a stirring Sango. Her face was flushed, but it was because her temperature was so high.
"How are you Sango?" he asked worriedly. "Are you still cold?"
She shifted slightly under the blankets. "A little...but I'm still sweating."
Slowly, her eyes opened and focused on Miroku above her. "Miroku-sama!" she gasped. "What is - Where am I?" She looked around wildly, trying to sit up. She didn't see Kohaku.
"Here, drink this," he said, handing her a glass of water. When she had downed it, he pushed her shoulders back down to a lying position.
"So you remember me, huh?" Miroku asked with a small smile as she weakly wrapped her hands around his.
"Of course, do you think I would forget?" she smiled too, a slight turn of the corners of her lips. Her hands squeezed his lightly. "I thought I would never see you again." .
"Sango," he whispered, leaning over her and delicately putting a hand to the side of her face. He placed chaste, breathless kisses on the corners of her lips and the area under her eyes where wet trails of tears were shining.
She simply stared back at him, a heaviness in her body preventing her from moving, but once his hands were again woven with hers, she gripped onto them as tightly as her tired muscles would allow.
"Miroku-sama," she said with small grin. "You smell like fish."
He looked at her endearingly, remembering her smile. "I can't do anything about that right now," he chuckled. "But more importantly, how did you get into the slums?"
"I can't really remember..." she said. "But I think...I must have had a bad reaction to the vaccines they gave me at the hospital. I walked into the city...and I began to feel sick."
One of her hands rose to touch the area above her ear.
"It's okay Sango, I have your flower in a glass," he assured her.
"Thank you Miroku-sama. A little boy gave it to me in town today - by little I mean under the age of ten," she added at the sight of his questioning look. "He had an older sister."
She paused, thinking to herself.
"You know what's strange," Sango said, relaxing into the thin pillow. "I think I had a vision of Kohaku. He should be around....fourteen now," she sighed. "I suppose it could always have been drug-induced. Still, I wonder what he's doing now..."
At this, Miroku's head snapped around to where the boy still stood looking out the window, but he knew that every word had reached his ears. The room was small enough to ensure that.
Kohaku took a deep breath, and nodded to him, starting to step forward.
"Sango," Miroku prodded. "Open your eyes for a minute...someone's here to see you."
"Hmm?" She looked up again curiously, as Kohaku's face swam into view.
"K - Kohaku."
"Ane-ue."
She sat up, and Miroku didn't try to stop her. He pulled his hand from between hers, and allowed the siblings to embrace, as awkward as it was.
"Kohaku, how have you been? How are Mother and Father? Are you okay?" Sango said all in one breath, her eyes nearly brimming with tears.
She pulled back from him, holding on to his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you. But we've found each other now, right?"
"Aneue," Kohaku said uncertainly, holding onto her arms loosely. "Father...I don't know where he is. Mother...she is dead."
There was a sharp intake of breath as Sango's nails dug into her brother's skin through the thin material of his shirt.
"How -"
"I don't even know. I was sent to work in the manufacturing plant...we were separated. One day an officer asked me if I bore the surname Taijiya. Then he told me my mother was dead."
"Kohaku -"
"I'm not finished yet, Aneue. I have to confess." He looked away from her confused expression. "I was angry. At you. For leaving us. You told me, and I still remember your words. 'Take care of everyone for me until I get back.' I told you I wouldn't do a good job. I told you."
"Kohaku, I - "
"And you never came back. But...him," he gestured to Miroku. "He told me what happened...and now I feel so guilty. All the times I thought ill of you...and you were suffering."
He still avoided her eyes but she hugged him close anyway.
"Kohaku...it's over now," she whispered. "It's over."
She repeated those comforting words continuously in a soothing voice, until eventually, he hugged her back as well.
Painted: Asthenia - July 29th 2004
blockedmyownshot - Hmm...I was planning to somehow ingeniously put ages into this chapter, but only ended up with Kohaku's. He's fourteen, Sango's five years older than him at nineteen, which makes Miroku twenty-one, Kagome twenty, and Inuyasha twenty one as well. Yes I messed with their ages. A lot. And the indenting, glad I'm not the only one doing that. Thank you for reading.
Rin the Kitsune - Yes! Inuyasha was in character? Really? I always make him...strange. Or really angry all the time. If I ever wrote an Inu/Kag it'd be a disaster. Literally. Sadly, no Naraku-in-prison just yet. But I have a little bit planned. Thank you for reviewing.
Katrina5 - Ah, the person who gets up in the wee hours to read mistake-riddled drafts and listen to my ever-lasting complaining. You're cool. So cool, in fact, that I will work extra extra hard. As of now. Thank you for lots of stuff.
pNay iN a b0x - And you! Person I bother in the middle of the night with stupid high-school teenager problems! It's like a soap opera I tell you! So thank you for that. Please extra enjoy this chapter.
Lady Sango 7 - I said it before and I'll say it again, you flatter me way too much. I really don't deserve it, nope. But really, thanks for always having something nice to say, and just for that I'll hope doubly for the safe restoration of your computer. But thanks! Ah, a twenty page chapter? I'm dying to read it already.
Fireblade K'Chona - Yes it's the "Mawwiage" quote, when you say it with all the w's in it, it just doubles the cuteness level. I'm glad you still like. Thanks for reviewing.
Aamalie - Well, it's the late time as usual and you disappeared or died a long time ago. And I thought, I might as well get this up as fast as possible. I'll just fix the thousands of mistakes later. Anyways, yes I am guilty of that schizo talking to things problem. If my computer had feelings..it'd probably punch me in the nose. Thanks for everything.
Oh, and just in case anyone's wondering, asthenia means a loss, want, or lack of bodily strength. Basically. Thank you all for reading.