Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha
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Void
Chapter Eight: Live
Sango's companions were unusual, and oddly matched, but strangely, their clash of personalities seemed to be what held them together as a group. Perhaps it was their dynamic.
The miko, she must have been Sango's greatest friend. From what he could observe, she was the one most able to freely express her emotions. He could tell that she cared for Sango, and that she missed her. From the extra bowls at mealtimes, to when she looked for Sango to have a bath with, he could see that she still hadn't wholeheartedly accepted that her dearest friend was gone.
Again, Kohaku spent a part of his time simply watching them go about their business. Sango had often said he was more content with watching than participating.
The hanyou appeared to be courting the miko. She was the type to let others know how she felt, however, it seemed like the hanyou didn't know how to handle her feelings. He was also grieving for Sango as well, but he didn't want others to notice. From what Kohaku could see, he had lost people before, and figured he hid it behind his rough exterior.
Then there was the Houshi. It was hard to decipher him, even by observance. He was different around others. When he had been telling him about Sango, he seemed raw, emotionally bare, even though he didn't want to be. Now, as he watched him lean against the fence, or sit under a tree in a contemplative stance, he was closed off to the world.
He honestly, truly, deeply wished with all his heart that he could right the wrongs of the past. If he could, the Taijiya village would still stand high and majestic, flourishing with life. His sister and his father would be alive, and maybe, just maybe, he could have matured into a younger brother to be proud of.
He didn't want to admit it, but in the mix of emotions he'd been afflicted with in such a short period of time, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of anger. Not the anger that had caused him to pound a layer of pulp off a tree while Kirara watched him, but a small growth of anger, like a single vein of many, that was angry at his sister.
She was so chivalrous...and caring...somewhat stubborn. She had refused to see that he wasn't the lifeless shell that he had become, and somewhere inside, was still her quiet, shy brother. That wasn't the case. He was dead. He knew he was. He had remembered it in a dream one night. He died the night he had gone to his first extermination.
There was a shard of the Shikon jewel lodged in his back, and it provided him life. That jewel had come from his village, he remembered because when he was very young he'd listen in awe as the retired exterminators told him stories of the battles with the youkai that occasionally showed up and attempted to steal it and harness its power.
Now the jewel was shattered, and it was a race between the sides to obtain it as a whole. There was a piece of it in his back. It wasn't hard to see that eventually, it would have to be removed.
Fate was horrible sometimes. Why did it have to be him? Or his sister? Or any of these people who had taken him in? Why did innocent people have to suffer in the name of power?
He was willing to give anything to change things.
And so he looked up to the sky, in prayer to the gods.
'Please, take my life, and bring ane-ue back. Bring her to life and back to her friends, to her love, I beg of you.'
His mind screamed at the unwavering sky that seemed to ignore him as the puffs of cloud continued their fluid path across the blue canvas.
'She made a mistake, she cared too much, please let us correct this wrong and take my life, the way it should have been.'
'If you do, graciously allow me some time to see her, to tell her that I love her and I miss her. Most importantly, that I'm sorry. She left so soon without hearing the words.'
And he clasped his hands tightly and squeezed his eyes shut, and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for exactly, maybe for the sky to part, a light to shine down from it and for Sango to be there, smiling, thanking him. He would say that he was sorry, so very sorry, and that he was repaying his debt to her in death, granting her life.
Sadly, though a part of his heart still waited, his rational mind told him that it wouldn't happen.
However, he looked up to the sky, hoping, wishing, for a second longer.
"Kohaku." The voice didn't startle him. Even in prayer, he could notice the jangling rings becoming louder as they approached.
Miroku didn't ask him what he was doing. Instead, he simply let him know that dinner would be ready soon, should he want to eat.
Kohaku glanced upwards once more, the sky more blue than it had ever been, before following him.
--
It was late. Their voices had awoken him. Well, not all of their voices, just Inuyasha's. He could hear it without trying to listen. At first, he attempted to ignore it and closed his eyes, but when he heard his name, he moved silently a tad closer to the door, pressing his ear against the crack between the door and the frame.
Glancing quickly towards Shippou, sleeping next to him, he hesitated but strengthened his resolve once again when he realized that the kitsune probably wouldn't wake.
"I know he's Sango's brother, but we can't ignore the fact that we're wasting time here! Not to mention you conveniently going home. So many damn delays!"
There was a sound like an exasperated sigh.
"Inuyasha, he's young, he might know things about Naraku. We can't leave him alone, as long as he still has that shard."
"Why don't we just take it out then -"
"Inuyasha! It's not that simple!"
"It could be."
Footsteps, and the echo of something hard hitting wood.
"What are you so mad about? You were just at home!"
"I'm mad, because as soon as I stepped out of that well you were whining about me taking leisure time at home and complaining!"
"Well that's what you're doing!"
"Sit!"
A dim flash of light, and the dull impact of a thud.
"Miroku-sama, as much as I hate to admit it, Inuyasha, he is sort of right. We aren't doing much, and we should start moving, but Kohaku-kun, we can't simply leave him here!"
A brief jangling of rings.
"The most logical thing to do would be to take him with us - "There was a pause as if Kagome had tried to interrupt him. "He has had some time to recover, and he can hold his own, even only if for a little while. I am somewhat against it myself, but you are right, Kagome-sama, that as long as he has that shard, we cannot just leave him alone."
A sniffle and a huff.
"He'll be fine as long as I'm protecting him."
Someone cleared their throat, most likely Miroku, and spoke in a deep baritone.
"If that's settled, than may I suggest we all get some rest before morning comes?"
"Right. Inuyasha, I'm going home for tonight."
"What's the difference? Either way you're getting sleep!"
"Don't make me say it."
Footsteps coming towards the door, paused.
"Miroku-sama, are you coming?"
"No, I'll be out here for a while. You know, fresh air."
Kohaku turned away from the door as swiftly as he could and lay down facing the wall of the hut. There was a brief influx of cool air as the door opened slowly, and closed in the same manner. Everything was silent once again.
The boy thought about really trying to attempt sleep and was about to do so when in the silence, he picked up the monk's voice again. It was quiet, a mumble even, but Kohaku strained to hear it, sitting up again and pressing his ear against the door.
"Kirara, it's good of you to stay out here with me, but really you should get some sleep like everyone else..."
Incoherent mewling.
"I see...Of course you still miss her. I mean, you may be a youkai, but you were with Sango her entire life...I for but a small portion. I wonder Kirara...What will we do, when it's all over?"
A sigh.
"Sango asked me that question once, and I remember telling her...That I just...I just wanted to be with her in the end."
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Kohaku paused for a moment, letting what he had just heard sink in to his mind.
Was it because his sister was no longer around, that they didn't know what to do with him? They were going to continue to bring him along, but only because they felt it would be safest?
A piece of sacred shard in his back...meant that he'd never be able to live peacefully? It didn't matter if that was the case, as long as he knew how and why his sister was dead, then things couldn't be peaceful.
He had come to hurt so many people, be it indirect or not. Somehow, it was still his fault. They had a mission to carry out, this group that had once included his sister, and it was a damned good one to say the least. Power was the root of this evil. Naraku wanted power, and was willing to do whatever he could, lie, manipulate, toy with emotions, cause suffering, to gain it.
Even though he had the highest hopes for them, that by some smidgen of luck, they'd be able to stop Naraku, he had to do his part. He had to help them out the only way he could...It was ironic, because the way he could help them, would be to give them more power...
The hanyou still kept his chain scythe with him, as a precaution. But he'd be damned if he needed it now. It was so clear, so simple to him what he had to do.
By now his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and he felt the ground around him for his cloth that contained his taijiya uniform. Feeling the solid armor below the fabric, he quickly worked at the knot, opening the cloth and spilling its contents about. Taking one of his boots, he reached inside and maneuvered his hand into a concealed opening. Just as he thought, his backup weapon was hidden inside. A short, self-made hunting knife.
In reflex, he turned towards the kitsune, but the child had rolled over and covered his ears with his hands, probably due to the loud conversation outside earlier or him moving around too much. Quickly, Kohaku slipped one side of his clothing off of his shoulder, glancing down at the raised and darkened skin that were the scars left from the piercing of pointed arrowheads through his flesh.
Breathing slightly louder from the rush and anticipation of his actions and maybe from adrenaline, he ran his finger along tip of the crudely made knife and concluded that the sharpness would suffice. Taking a deep breath, he twisted his arm behind him and plunged the blade with as much force as he could muster into his back.
He let a few gasps of pain escape his lips, again glancing towards Shippou as he tried not to let any more noise betray his actions.
His breath was coming in short spurts now, as the sickeningly familiar trickle of blood ran down his spine. The hunting dagger dropped from shaking fingers, and his breathing became louder and louder, as if he would die if he didn't take in enough air.
Reaching back, willing his hands to be still, he gingerly placed his fingers in the blood that collected around the wound, feeling for the small shard of jewel that was managing to keep him alive.
Every second he felt inside that opening pained like the knife had been freshly forged in white-hot flames and was stabbing him repeatedly. Blood coated his hands but he wouldn't stop, the pain wouldn't stop until he found that shard and ripped it from his body, severing their connection and ending it all.
After what seemed like an eternity of hurt, his index finger pressed on something delicate and small, a sliver. At first he was fearful as his finger ruptured the object. He felt a strange feeling like every nerve in his body was shutting down and turning on rapidly, his heart had skipped a few beats, and his limbs would soon convulse out of his control.
That's it...That's the shard.
Even though it was nearly pitch black inside the hut, what he could see of the walls was wavering in and out of focus.
He could have sworn later, that even if he had heard the metal rings bouncing off each other as the monk ran towards the door, he wouldn't have been able to stop.
His thumb and index had nearly closed around the sliver of the jewel when the door was thrown open and a hand had closed around his wrist, another hand pulling Kohaku's fingers away from the wound.
The voice had been wavery, strange and distant sounding, but still urgent, as though the person had been talking to him through a long tunnel.
"Don't do it... Kohaku...If you love your sister...You won't do it."
The last thing that he remembered, as he slipped out of consciousness, growing limp, was that the blood that was seemingly everywhere, was his.
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He couldn't relive the feeling of uneasiness that passed through his veins. All he knew that one moment, Kirara was listening to his unintelligible musings and the next, they were both running towards the dark hut, with an urgency Miroku knew he felt for good reason.
Every time he looked at his hand it made him slightly nauseous. What did he give up for that small hole to be filled?
His life?
Not exactly.
Her life?
Yes.
Two lives?
Hers and the one he could have had.
He gave up a life with a chance to finally be happy, and damn it, he wasn't going to let her brother give up his because he thought he had to.
He owed her that much.
The sight before him froze momentarily before he came to grips with what was before him. With the dim light of the moon flooding the room, he knew that the dark pools that lay around the boy were blood. And while he had witnessed countless bloodshed in this age, none had crushed his heart the way this scene did.
Blood ran down his arms and over his shoulders, staining the fabric he wore and that of the sheet that he had been sleeping under. He was in obvious pain, so much so that he barely acknowledged that he'd been discovered. He was concentrating, as though looking for something.
What might have embedded the moment in his mind as the worst he had ever encountered, was when the young kitsune had rolled over, rubbed his large eyes, and began to wail.
It dawned on Miroku that he was looking to remove the shard. Immediately, his logical mind began to compile a list of potential motives but he pushed them aside and let instinct take over. He dropped to one knee and carefully pried his hand away from the self-inflicted would, where blood still poured freely.
He set about multi-tasking, quieting Shippou and tending to Kohaku's injury. He ignored the way Kohaku's body quaked with uncontrollable spasms and instead concentrated on keeping the shard fixed in his back. Blood seeped onto his robes, darkening the already black fabric, but he didn't care. The bleeding had to stop.
He gathered one of his robes in a fist and pressed it against the wound, praying, willing it to stop bleeding. Shippou turned away, hugging Kirara and closing his eyes on Miroku's instruction. Pushing gently, he applied more pressure, and the boy gasped, lurching forward as he struggled just to breathe.
Soon, his labored pants had turned to a steadying breaths, and Miroku feared for the worst. He had gone unconscious. The sudden lapse of silence enticed Shippou to chance a peek at the situation.
"Is he - is he dead?" the child asked in a whisper.
"No. Not if I have anything to do with it," Miroku responded, hardening his resolve. "Shippou, please try and get some sleep. It will be hard, but..."
Shippou didn't hear the rest. Miroku had already stood and was carrying Kohaku, careful to continue to apply the pressure to the wound. Without another word, he was gone.
"Kirara," the kitsune said in a low voice. "Could you - maybe we could go somewhere else? Kagome went home and...I'm scared," he finished, bursting into tears.
--
It was still night when he came to. He knew because the first sight that greeted his eyes was a canopy of swirling navy dotted with twinkling stars above him. He was outside. A spasm of pain flitted across his back as he tried to sit up, and in anguish, he remembered what he had tried to do.
His chest was warm, constricted with many layers of cotton bandages that were somewhat hardened by the great amount of blood that they had to absorb. He closed his eyes briefly; his head was hurting.
"You lost a lot of blood. Don't try to move just yet."
Slowly, he looked to the side, and the houshi, Miroku, he was there, not staring down at him, but observing the movements of the stars. Shame washed over him again, so he looked away.
"I'm sorry," Kohaku tried to say, but it came out as more of a whisper. He wasn't sure if the monk even heard it. He'd apologized to him so many times that perhaps the words had lost their meaning on him.
"Kohaku, you don't have to say anything."
"But I do," the younger boy argued, his throat scratchy and hoarse. "I'm sorry you have to deal with me."
From where Kohaku lay on the ground he saw Miroku look away from the sky.
"Why didn't you let me do it?"
There was a bemused smile gracing the monk's lips. "I believe you can answer that question yourself, Kohaku."
"You should have just let me die, Houshi-sama. I'm nothing but a lifeless body for you to haul around and protect for no good reason save for this shard. You should have let me die, and taken it. It would give you more power."
"Power, it is a fickle thing, Kohaku. People go to many lengths to seek it, gain it, and utilize it. Sometimes, it starts out as a noble cause, perhaps to help another or to do better in the world. However, sometimes that nobility becomes desire, greed, an unhealthy obsession. It is a thin gray line that borders those emotions."
Kohaku let the words sink in.
"In the end, it is security, a false form of strength that power gives. If you think that it is simply the power that we want, then you are wrong. You were important to Sango, and you are important to all of us as well."
"But I'm dead."
"Be it so, there is the theory that nothing happens without reason. There are things unforeseen in the future. I don't know...and you don't know. No one knows. One must learn not to question...but to accept. To take each day in stride."
The stars swirled above them, the refreshing night air somehow helping the younger boy to breath evenly and comfortably as his body recovered from the trauma. However, his mind was in a different state.
"That is how I once lived, Kohaku."
"And?"
"And Sango changed that. But I can't change what happened, I cannot dwell on what has passed. Remember, that when one forgets to put the emotions in their heart to rest, they have the potential to burn and overflow."
The younger boy still did not speak, instead taking to staring at the slightly illuminated form of the man who was once his sister's love.
"People...are all different. It's hard for them to express themselves, no matter how much they want to. Sometimes words are powerless, and sometimes they can become a silver knife." The monk paused as though in thought to himself.
Ironic.
"Kohaku, your dreams," he said suddenly.
Uncertain, he answered. "What about them?"
"Do you remember the dreams you had when you were young? Vividly?"
"Some."
"Dreams are fragile. Like thin glass. So why are we destined to dream?
"I don't know..." he said slowly. "They reflect a person's desires and fears? If that were the case...it would surely explain what I see of ane-ue and Naraku."
"What exactly do you see?"
"Naraku is dead. And ane-ue....she is with you."
Miroku turned his head ever so slightly, enough for him to observe the boy from out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"
"She loved you...and I am dead. I have no right. One day I did dream that we were together, like a family again, her and I, but later I had to realize that ... it could not happen. Not in this world. The Kohaku that wished for unattainable things, who lived for the past, now rests inside my heart."
It was quiet, save for the colloquial sounds of the night animals, and the light refreshing breeze across the field, as both thought of their futures, one looking towards life, the other towards death, as they came to terms with the future.
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In my dream, the path was so narrow, and you were so small. When the darkness drew nearer still, engulfing and choking me, the both of us, you searched until you found what it is you treasured. Even if only for a moment.
I exist, but this body is just a puppet. If I could rewind from this worn observance - I was always the one watching - and be able to change, would it dampen the pain of sadness?
I scream, and it hits you in the back like an echo, metal through your skin. Even without remembering the places I've been, that which I have lost, sometimes even you, I still cry.
If we could walk down that same road tomorrow, you'd still be the one next to me, leading me. Often, that hope becomes a joke, and I live with the me, this monster that we've both struggled with.
Shattered scarlet memories vanish into the sky, and my fading voice is forever carried away by the wind.
Will you ever hear it?
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"Houshi-sama," Kohaku said suddenly, overcome with a sudden desire to sit up, despite the heavy blood loss. "Tell me...tell me about you and ane-ue!"
Miroku turned around fully to face him, the soft light of the moon reflecting gently off his face as he smiled, his eyes growing distant, as the memories rose to the surface of his mind.
"Tell me everything..."
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The words flowed from his lips. He didn't know where they came from, or how they started. All he knew was that he honored the boy's request, and relived his memories of Sango, their love, how it began and how it transpired.
As her brother's expression changed from one of awe to surprise, anticipation to inevitable sadness, he couldn't think of a better way for him to experience what he had missed of his sister's legacy than straight from the mouth of the one who loved her as much as he did.
And as he spoke, it was as if a brush was delicately stroking characters onto a faded parchment, each marking meaning so much more to him than what it would represent on paper. The story, beautiful and bittersweet, yet comical and endearing as only his words could make it, had to come to an end.
Eventually, the words dwindled and faded away, and the two were left to their own collective thoughts once again, each different in their own right.
However, they were always of Sango
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Void: Live - September 25th 2004
Because I've been dead-tired and overworked (school, amongst other things) I'll reply to a few people on here, and the rest, I'll get to on e-mail. If you would like me to reply to you, just say so, and leave an e-mail address.
Vilja - I'm really in a rush to finish this now, to me it seems like I'm dragging it out horribly. Mind rants are kind of difficult for me (as is character, which I'm sure you know) and I'm working on incorporating more of the 'show, don't tell' mantra into my writing. As always, thank you for your comments.
Kitty Katana - Well thanks! I didn't think I'd have anything remotely close to that sort of reaction.
Soli-chan - Hey, I'm talking to you right now! I know you don't often review, not because you don't want to but because the site (can't use the name remember) doesn't let you. So, err...thanks! And for that other fic of mine (which will go unnamed) ...you read it? --Sigh--
suicidalslayer - Hi! All those nice comments were really overwhelming. Best author on the whole site? Number one? Darn, you're making me blush here. I am, not even on average with the other MS authors, not even by a longshot. Oh, and I will check out that fic soon. My e-mail is on my profile page, but I can give it to you here too. AprillMay at Yahoo.
MapleRose - Now that we're back in school, hopefully your brains are back. But when I updated it was still summer, so there's your excuse. Thank you!
Iggy04 - The reason I rarely write about Inu/Kag other than random side bits is that I'm completely horrible with their characters. I struggle with Miroku and Sango enough, and there is a ton of great Inu/Kag already. As for your other question, it's winding down to a close, I promise.
animefreak808 - Yes they did know. I believe he showed them his hand somewhere around there. It's funny how I can't even remember my own story. But, thanks for reviewing!
And hugs to Margo and Kat for their everlasting coolness.
This is the open-ending. There will eventually be a more definite ending, for closure, and for those who really want one. If you end up hating the definitive ending, then the solution is to pretend it never existed and roll with this one.