If You Need Her
by Scribe Figaro
SESSION FIVE: GO HOME
IV.
I will tremble in prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me
O my beautiful one."
- AFI, "Silver and Cold"
He was the same as he always was.
He felt that, felt it deeply. Something had happened to him, something terrible, and whatever happened in that well, the well they left far and fast behind them, had restored him.
He wasn't sure of the nature of his illness. Perhaps he had once again use the Kazaana recklessly, and drew in some terrible poison. But that didn't feel right, either. His sickness ran deeper than that, so deep it stung when he tried to approach it in his mind.
He hadn't time to deal with this. What he knew now was that he was well. His spiritual energies were refreshed, his mind was clear, and his spirit was ready for whatever Kirara was bearing him toward.
It was she who was different.
The girl before him, the taiji-ya who had traveled with for ages, it seemed, was not Sango. At least, not exactly. This should have upset him. The fact he could not recall the events of the past few days should have upset him as well, but it did not. There would be time enough for dwelling on that later.
His awakening had been rather rude, involving a tightly-wrapped bundle of his clothing striking him rather square in the face, thrown from a rather good height. Sango, or the girl who looked like Sango, was leaning with her back against the edge of the well, shouting for him to get dressed, that they were late to a fight.
He dressed quickly, and Kirara dove down to retrieve him. He sat behind the taiji-ya, as he always did, and immediately they raced onward, in the general direction of the last place he recalled seeing Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou.
She was not Sango. She felt like her, even had her aura, but her mannerisms were slightly off, the look in her eye slightly different. At the moment, he was forced into trusting Kirara's judgement. The firecat had a much stronger bond to the taiji-ya, and were anything wrong, she would have made this clear already.
She was being controlled by something. He wasn't sure what, not yet, but it kept him uneasy, and ever-watchful of her actions.
He noticed, also, that her sense of jaki was heightened. Taiji-ya were better than most humans at sensing and locating jaki, but his spiritual training still gave him an advantage over her in that respect. Yet, she managed to find and steer toward a very slight presence of jaki before he could sense it himself. He kept his senses tuned, and soon he could sense youki as well.
Even before they arrived, he could recognize the youki, the youki of an inu-youkai and a hanyou.
Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha.
They broke through the woods, dismounting Kirara even before she touched the ground, and Sango managed to outdistance him, a very frustrating thing, as Miroku did not like to run into a battle without so much as surveying the situation.
What he saw was somewhat cryptic – a meeting with some very unlikely members. There was Kagome and Shippou, looking upset but unhurt. There was Sesshoumaru, giving no attention to their arrival, with Rin at his feet.
All of them looked onward, with grave concern, to Kikyou, who held a small object in her hands.
At that moment the jaki struck him with full force, a familiar jaki, and he nearly fell to his knees.
Asesu.
Asesu, you bastard, I killed you.
"Sango-chan!" Kagome called out. "Miroku-sama!" The young girl ran to them.
"Asesu was trapped," Kagome cried, "he was trapped but he's breaking free. Miroku-sama, you have to get out of here, or he'll kill you!"
Kagome stood before Miroku, her hands clasped before her, a silent prayer that the houshi would run from here, and save himself.
Miroku bowed his head.
I fought that thing for nearly two straight days, and I lost.
I don't think I could do as well a second time.
With a grimace, he struck the ground with his shakujou and leaned upon it.
I can do nothing.
I can fight him again, and surely die, but in the end, I can do nothing.
"Houshi-sama."
Miroku looked up, and with brimming fear, saw Sango sitting before him, the cursed container in her hands. Kikyou stood behind her, an expression very close to confusion on her face, as if Sango had swiped the unholy container from her hands like a common thief.
"Sango!"
"No time to argue, Houshi-sama! Make a barrier, around just this bottle and me. This will all be over, I just need to force Asesu to attack me again!"
His stomach clenched.
"Sango, I can't . . . I can't do that . . ."
She looked up to him, eyes suddenly warm, expression suddenly hopeful. Soothing.
"She won't be hurt, Houshi-sama. Please trust me in this. It's the only way."
Miroku closed his eyes. The seal on Asesu was failing. If he did not make a decision quickly, they could all die.
"Alright."
With determination, or else faked determination, he planted his shakujou directly behind Sango and stepped backward. He brought a hand before his face in prayer, and a holy shell descended from the tip of the shakujou, surrounding Sango and the staff in a dome some three meters in diameter.
"I can't hold it for long, not against something that strong."
"You won't have to," she said.
Sango took a deep breath, and the bottle shattered in her hands.
The black corruption within swirled around the barrier, striking it several times. Asesu was aware of having been trapped, and it feared the taiji-ya. It was intelligent, and understood the taiji-ya wanted to be possessed, and gratifying such a desire was not in its best interests.
Miroku flinched each time Asesu tested the holy shell, feeling the barrier nearly break with each strike. It was difficult enough to form a barrier against normal youkai, but they at least had bodies to press against. Keeping Asesu contained was like trying to build a wall to keep out smoke. The tiniest of holes would be enough for it to break free, and keeping such weaknesses fully closed required great spiritual stamina.
Luckily, it was apparent that Asesu could survive only a matter of seconds outside a host, and like a diver that rushes for the surface when the air in his lungs is consumed, it dove into Sango's body and corrupted her.
Miroku fell to his knees, gasping, and the barrier collapsed. Tendrils of smoke snaked from the circle the barrier made in the grass. He quickly tried to control his breathing, willing himself not to pass out.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
"Sango?"
"Sango-chan?"
A blinding light struck both Miroku and Kagome. Miroku held an arm over his face to shield his eyes, and raised a protective arm over Kagome as a reflex, but his efforts were useless, as a powerful shock wave threw both of them off their feet. A muffled cry of kitsune fear sounded somewhere to the left.
When his vision cleared, Miroku was on his back, Sango standing before him. And then, he realized she wasn't standing, for her eyes were closed and her body limp, hanging in the air as if supported by an invisible string tied to her chest. The toes of her boots scraped the ground, then lifted away.
Now a deep glow came from the taiji-ya's breast, and as it occurred to Miroku what might be happening, a bright, glowing ball burst from her chest, dragging streams of blood behind it like a half-dozen tails, staining the ground between Sango and the spot where the glowing ball struck the ground and burned away the grass.
Sango fell lifelessly on her back, the wound in her chest producing a brief fountain of blood on impact, staining her taiji-ya uniform a dark red.
He didn't remember rushing to her side, and the screams that echoed around him did not register, even though he believed at least one of the voices he heard was his own. All he knew was that he was beside her now, cradling her head in one arm, holding one hand over the ragged, bloody hole in her uniform.
Shikon no Tama. I don't know how, I don't know why, but she fused her soul with Asesu and created a Shikon no Tama.
How dare you! How dare you do this to yourself! To me!
There was no way she could survive this. Her soul cast from her body. Her chest torn open. He wondered if Midoriko, the great priestess who had created the Shikon no Tama, had a man who loved her, and if so, if he had seen her die this way, as if her life was her own to throw away.
"Miroku-sama!"
"Miroku-sama, the soul!"
He turned, seeing Kagome kneeling beside the newly-cast Shikon no Tama. It was much smaller than the jewel that had brought them all together, and clearly nowhere near as powerful. But still powerful enough, he surmised, that it would be sought by those with evil intentions, someday.
"Miroku-sama, the Shikon no Tama, can't you sense it? There are two souls in it, but they aren't Sango!"
Kikyou approached the jewel and cautiously picked it up between thumb and forefinger.
"It has much the same feel as the Shikon no Tama," Kikyou mused. "But there are only two souls. One is Asesu, and the other feels almost like Midoriko. A close relative, perhaps. But clearly not the taiji-ya."
"Then," Miroku whispered. "Then perhaps . . . because she was acting strangely . . . her soul is unharmed . . ."
One hand hovered at her collar.
"Forgive me, Sango," he whispered.
In a swift motion, he tore open the top of her taiji-ya uniform and wiped away the pool of blood between her breasts with the edge of his sleeve. Even as he tested with cautious fingers, he found no interruption in her skin.
"No wound," he whispered, fastening her uniform closed. "Her clothes are torn, but there is no wound."
A hand clasped his wrist. Her hand. She met his look of surprise with half-lidded eyes, and her lips moved, though her voice was so weak he could barely hear the words.
He leaned over her, placing his ear just above her mouth.
"Houshi-sama," she said. Her hand released his wrist and touched his cheek.
"Sukebe."
He leaned back, seeing her smile, returning it, and then her eyes closed, and her breathing became regular, her expression peaceful.
"Sou ka," he said, biting his lip.
He could not describe the place he was. He might say he was a dark place, but it was not dark, but a sort of thing beyond light or darkness. There was no sensation, no touch, no feel, no smell or taste or sound. He felt like he often did outside a host - disconnected, disoriented. But he was not afraid. And he was not alone.
You are defeated, Asesu.
There was nothing here but his mind, and the mind of the woman who had finally, soundly, and effortlessly beaten him.
So it seems, Tsukiyo.
Why so fatalistic, Asesu?
Fatalistic?
Why not try to fight me? Have you no aggressions left, Asesu?
I tire, Tsukiyo. I have lived six thousand years and possessed more creatures than I can count. Even in defeat, I can appreciate rest.
You are a strange creature, Asesu.
Do I disappoint you, Tsukiyo? Do you wish me to cry and shout, to try to break free of this prison?
A little, Asesu.
Then after I rest long enough, I will pretend to be upset, and in great pain. Would you like that, Tsukiyo?
That would amuse me, Asesu.
An odd prison this is. Trapped together, like your sister once trapped that mass of demons, are we not?
We are.
And the jewel created, it is a Shikon no Tama, then? Soon to be sought by demons?
You think too much of yourself, Asesu. Though you are a dangerous thing, and a very wily spirit, you are not a powerful enough demon to create anything nearing the power of the true Shikon no Tama.
How disappointing, Tsukiyo.
Perhaps I could pretend that you were a strong demon. Would you like that, Asesu?
That would amuse me, Tsukiyo.
It is unfortunate that you could not have displayed this reason, this restraint, beforehand. Were it not for your bloodthirst, Asesu, you would not have attracted the attentions of Heaven, and we would not be here.
When you are a creature without substance, Tsukiyo, you find that you desire attention, and desire it very much. How else would I be sure I existed, if no one feared me? If no one knew me?
I do not fear you, Asesu.
No, but you are trapped here with me, and thus you must know me. You needn't talk to me, and could ignore me if you chose, but you cannot forget that I exist, Tsukiyo.
And that satisfies you, Asesu?
It is enough.
A pause stretched between them, one of either a moment, or a thousand years. It mattered little in this place, but the fact that there was a pause, and a time where one mind, or both, was safe in his or her thoughts.
I will not ignore you, Asesu.
"Sesshoumaru-sama!"
"Sesshoumaru-sama!"
The youkai lord didn't so much as glance in the direction of his servant's voice, as the toad-youkai was not important enough to attract his attention. Unfortunately, this required him to continue staring straight ahead, which might make it seem he was interested in Inuyasha's companions and the demon they had fought.
To tell the truth, he was somewhat interested, but it was an interest borne of annoyance. The demon they called Asesu had harmed Rin, and now the creature had been sealed away. He thought his chance at defeating Asesu would come when it broke free of the trifling container Myouga and the miko had devised, but instead they trapped it in some sort of jewel, and it was clear to this Sesshoumaru that Asesu had been soundly defeated this time around.
"Sesshoumaru-sama!"
Jaken appeared before him, holding Toukijin in his hands, kneeling before Sesshoumaru and presenting the sword.
"I followed it half a ri back, Sesshoumaru-sama. Though I knew Sesshoumaru-sama would not have let the sword go except as a diversionary tactic, I took it upon myself to seek it out, so that Sesshoumaru-sama needn't waste his time searching for it, even though such a thing would be a trifling endevour to Sesshoumaru-sama. It was driven halfway through a tree, and I had to burn it free with Nintoujou, but no effort would be too much for Jaken – ah!"
Clearly the creature was surprised when Sesshoumaru took the sword from him and sheathed it beside Tenseiga, but Jaken clearly had a good twenty minutes to devise a speech, and Sesshoumaru did not intend to listen to such a thing.
"Rin."
"Hai!"
"We are going now."
"Hai, Sesshoumaru-sama!"
The young girl waved to Kagome and fell in step behind the stately youkai lord and the grumbling Jaken.
Kagome breathed a sigh of relief. Asesu was trapped, trapped for good. The soul that had served its temporary host in the container had gone on to the other world. Sango was hurt, but she would recover.
And Inuyasha . . .
She stood, her heart uneasy as she glanced at the unconscious hanyou and the arrow which sealed him.
"I will take this Shikon no Tama to an appropriate place," Kikyou said. "It lacks the power of even a shard of the true Shikon no Tama, but it is still best that it remain in a shrine."
"What about Inuyasha?" Kagome asked.
Kikyou turned to the hanyou.
"I have no other use for him here."
"Kikyou?"
"The arrow," Kikyou said. "You should have no trouble removing it. You have proven yourself adept at nullifying my sealing arrows."
"Kikyou!"
The priestess said no more. Kagome watched her leave, unable to approach Inuyasha until she was sure the miko was gone. As if it would be rude, to void Kikyou's spell in her presence.
As if she did not want Inuyasha to know Kikyou had been there.
"Kikyou," she whispered.
You share part of my soul, Kikyou. What sort of terrible things would have to happen to me, to be so hateful as you?
To be so sad?
To be so alone?
She shook her head and approached Inuyasha, kneeling beside him.
I think I could almost accept him loving you, if you weren't so cruel.
Her fingers grasped the arrow's shaft, and with a quick pull, the arrow dissolved in her hands.
Inuyasha immediately drew in a sharp breath.
"Kagome?" he exhaled.
"I'm here. I'm okay, Inuyasha."
"I was afraid . . . that I hurt you, Kagome."
"No," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Inuyasha, you didn't hurt anyone."
"Don't cry, Kagome. I hate it when you do that."
"I know . . . I just . . . I just want to go home, Inuyasha."
"Go home?"
"Yes. Go home."
Inuyasha sat up, one hand briefly touching Kagome's shoulder, then reaching out for Tessaiga. He still felt dazed, and could see Kagome was upset, as was Miroku. Shippou was crying, though trying not to. Before Miroku, Sango lay lifelessly.
"Sango," Inuyasha said. "Is she . . .?"
"She'll be alright," Miroku said. "I think all of us will be."
"Miroku-sama," Kagome said. "We're going home for now."
"Home?" Miroku asked. He spoke the word as if it were unfamiliar.
"Kaede's village, Miroku-sama. Sango can recover there."
Miroku nodded.
Home.
He caressed Sango's cheek softly.
Because I need her.
Getting to his knees, he slipped one arm behind her back, another under her knees, and lifted her toward the neko-youkai that stood patiently beside her injured mistress.
We should be there.
He placed her on Kirara's back, then untied his kesa and wrapped her warmly.
Go home.