Author Note: I quit my job and applied to grad school. It's amazing how that can keep you from writing fanfiction.
Chapter 3: The Monk and the Kitsune
The rings on his staff jingled agreeably as he walked, and the morning breeze was refreshingly cool, but the monk's ponderous thoughts were on serious matters today. Alas, that the princess I rescued this time was no more beautiful than a pudgy crow! It seems I am ever-doomed to be ill-fated with women. Ponderous problems indeed.
And as for this… Fingering the crystal he held in his hand, he focused on it once more. Lately, the youkai in this area had been going mad at an alarming rate. As the monk battled with them, he found shard after shard of this strange, dark crystal. The stone screamed of power and quickly became tainted within a youkai's body. Creatures ran wild with evil energy, including those that were normally harmless. If my holy powers guide me correctly, I would say this is a fragment of the legendary Shikon no Tama. But I heard that it had been destroyed. Perhaps it was merely fractured instead? Definitely a mysterious matter, yet without more facts the monk could only shake his head in wonderment.
As the day dragged on, he passed a battlefield baking in the hot sun. Many weeks old, soldiers still lay there, unclaimed by relatives, now bare of valuables and flesh. He sighed, weary at the reminder that his own people were as susceptible to madness and temptation as the youkai populace. Might there be humans with shards of this crystal as well? If so, dark times were ahead, and the wars would increase.
Suddenly, from behind, he felt a flash of youki. He swerved out of the way as puff of greenish-blue flame burst by his shoulder. "Giiiive me the Shiiiikon no TAmA!" a tiny voice groaned, obviously trying to sound lower than it really was. "Give it to meee and I will spare your life!"
The monk raised one brow in surprise. He could feel the presence of a youkai, but not in any specific direction. A low level demon maybe, without experience controlling ki? At last, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A small skull was sliding slowly across the battlefield toward him, a giant fluffy tail sticking out the back of it. He swatted the bone with his staff and kicked it aside to reveal a humanoid kitsune, covered in grime and gore from the decaying battlefield.
The trembling fox-demon held his ground remarkably well. He sensed the shards this man held, yet because they lay beneath the monk's purple robes, he did not know how to proceed. Should he bite the man or transform?
Shocked, the monk stared at the child. This youkai was the size of a two-year old boy, so young that he could not sustain his own youki, yet already he could maintain a human form? Ridiculous. A baby-kitsune this powerful would surely have his parents right behind him, on their way. But as he scanned the terrain, he could see no trace of the living.
Before he could speak, the kitsune leapt toward his face. It landed on his head and began gnawing his hair, growling all the while. GRWrrrrr! The tiny fangs did not pierce his skin though, and he fought back a smile as he removed the offending item from his hair. Dangling the boy by the scruff of his neck (an odd sensation, to hold a child in this manner actually) the monk looked at him sternly. "Where are your parents, lad?" he asked.
"I…" stuttered the boy, waving his paws, "I don't have to tell you anything! You're just a weak puny human!"
"My name is Miroku, and undoubtedly, I am human. But how do you know for certain, that I am weak?" the monk inquired reasonably. "I have gathered more Shikon shards than you for one. What is your name?"
Green eyes wide with alarm, the boy disappeared in a billow of smoke, and the monk was left holding a heavy stone Jizo statue by nothing but the tips of his fingers. It fell and crashed onto his right foot. And from across the field he heard the kitsune's tinkling laughter, "It's Shippou to you!"
Miroku groaned as he nursed his foot. Kitsune were known for being tricksters, and never giving out their true names. So much for thinking that he could fool one simply because it was young. Ah well, at least nothing terrible had come of the ordeal. For example, had the youngster been possessed by dark crystal shards, he would have felt awful having to kill…
And right about then, he realized his shards were missing. Aah! Such slight of hand! Perhaps the lad can teach me a thing or two, for use when I am wooing the ladies. That is, if I can retrieve the fragments before he uses them.
Hurrying after the kitsune, he prayed that he would make it in time.
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Splish. Kagome shivered in the icy water and tried to ensure she splashed as little of it as possible over her shoulders. It was cold outside, but it was also imperative that she bathe. Splish. As a modern girl, unused to going more than twenty-four hours without a hot shower or soak, the grimy feeling of her skin and hair had gotten to be too much. But brr! The experience of ice-water on her bare chest was almost as bad. Splish.
Wondering whether she should dunk herself and get it over with, she turned to face Kaede, and immediately a bright red blob on the hillside caught her attention. That boy was staring straight at her – naked! "Osuwari!" yelled Kagome, as the decision of whether to submerge or not was resolved by her modesty. As Inuyasha plummeted to the ground from on high, Kaede sighed. This girl used the subduing command on the hanyou too often. The boy would suffer damage to his brain.
Before their screaming match could progress too far, the elderly miko calmed the two argumentative teenagers. "Kagome. I'm sure that Inuyasha merely meant to secure the safety of the Shikon shards. Do not be too hasty in your judgement."
Incensed, the white haired boy nodded in agreement. The girl did not seem the least bit remorseful though, nor did she honestly apologize. What nerve! Of course he had been there for the shards! And even if he had been enjoying the view, she had no way of knowing that detail. He snorted in disbelief as she dressed in her borrowed miko garb without a word of repentance.
Something about her intrigued him, and he could not stop pondering the strangeness of it. Her face and figure resembled Kikyou, which by all rights should have made him detest the sight, since the memory of Kikyou's betrayal was too fresh and painful to bear contemplation. Yet time and time again, he was drawn to this girl's side. With Kikyou he had fought his natural instincts in order to approach her; here, he had to struggle to stay away. Just sitting nearby was enough to make him want to touch her, to caress her hair with his claws. It was highly irritating.
After a few days reflection, he realized that it was her scent that befuddled his mind so. It was not only incredibly alluring, but oddly familiar. It unconsciously relaxed him, setting his mind at ease and reeling him in – that is, until she spoke, and he remembered again how much he disliked her.
Standing before him now in white and red, Kagome glared at the grumpy hanyou, hands on her hips. Meanwhile, Inuyasha discovered that he could no longer sense her light, pleasant fragance through the thick earthy fabric she currently wore. He frowned. The green and white outfit was better; it smelled like her through and through, and the dog in him didn't appreciate it when people exchanged clothing, confusing him with multiple scents.
"Please, both of you. It is essential that you work together," Kaede droned, repeating her sentiments. "Kagome, you are the key to finding the Shikon shards. And Inuyasha! As the son of a powerful dog-demon, you are the only one here with the strength to defend her. If you both work together…"
"Oi, onna," Inuyasha growled at the girl, gesturing at her clothes. "Take it off."
"NANI?" squealed the young miko, finally recalling the idea that had been niggling at the back of her mind for some time now. "It's because you think I look like Kikyou, isn't it?"
"Feh!" the boy scoffed, ears laid back against his head. "You're nothing like her, wench."
"Start calling me by my name, or I will not work with you!"
"As if I need your help!"
Kaede's calming words were completely lost on them.
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"You… bastard… " Trying to make himself as convincing as possible, Shippou stood up straight and puffed out his chest. Night had fallen and he was very tired and hungry, but he had finally found his father's killer. There was no backing down now. After all, it didn't matter if he died here. Without family, he had no reason to live. "You killed my father! Prepare to die!"
"Ahaha!" The ugly balding creature laughed uproariously, making the tiny kitsune wince. "What do we have here? You're the son of that fox I killed." Patting the pelt at his waist, he gloated as he watched the little youkai's face blanch pure white. "Yes, you'd make a nice… hat."
A flash of lightning lit the sky for a moment, and the second brother appeared, floating gracefully to the earth to stand beside his sibling. Hiten and Manten, the Thunder Brothers. Shippou quaked in fear, not sure he could fight them both at once, although it seemed like he would not have a choice. He had seen what these brothers could do; he had pursued them and watched as they obliterated an entire battlefield after stealing those shards from his father. It was like the shards made them go crazy. Storm gods were meant to be… well, not peaceful per se, but certainly not savagely homicidal!
For that matter, his father had been slightly obsessed with the Shikon no Tama too. They first had found a sliver of the crystal while hunting in the forest, and immediately the elder fox had abandoned their chase, to begin an entirely new kind of search. And although Shippou had never really understood the point of stalking shards, since those were not edible or delicious, he had followed his father's lead. After all, his dad knew best.
But when the Thunder Brothers attacked, it was as if his father forgot all about the fragments. Clarity of purpose regained, he had thrown the jewel away to save his son. Now, Shippou would return the favor. Vengeance would buy back his father's honor.
If only he could figure out how to work these shards. They were supposed to make a youkai incredibly powerful, so why didn't he feel any stronger?
"We've been looking for you everywhere, brat." The eldest brother stepped forward, his eyes focused on the shards held by the kitsune. "And what luck! You have more shards. Hand them over and die."
Shippou clenched his fist and started pumping his hand up and down, in an effort to unlock the magical power of the Shikon no Tama. This failed spectacularly. Perhaps he had to channel youki into them? As the Thunder Brothers moved forward, the kitsune looked up in desperation. Death was approaching, sparkling with electricity, at the end of a razor sharp glaive.
Finally, he saw his answer. The brothers had jammed the shards into their foreheads, beneath the skin. I have to insert it in my body! Then I can defeat them with my fox-fire! But before he could do so, a voice rang out from the darkness behind him.
"Two on one? Such behavior does not seem quite fair." A man stepped quietly into the foreground. Shippou held his breath. It was the same human as before, the Buddhist monk from whom he had borrowed his shards. But he did not look the same. The intensity in his gaze had not been present earlier. Without even hearing the words and insults of his opponents, Shippou stood frozen in place as the monk calmly paced in front of him. All he grasped was a single, terrifyingly simple command. "Don't move, Shippou."
And then the world turned over. As the monk unbound his right hand, the kitsune smelled the stench of bitter, deadly magic, and wondered briefly how it was possible that a holy man could control demonic jyaki. But he did not have long to contemplate it, for a harsh wind instantly drew him forward, toward the monk's back. He was helpless against it being as small and light as he was. But his shock was nothing compared to the demeanor of Hiten and Manten. Their faces, formerly so confident, were riddled with confusion.
Manten shrieked like a girl as his already oblong face began to lengthen, and his body was dragged toward the monk's outstretched hand. The fur of Shippou's father ripped free and soared into the air, just in time to block a burst of lightning from Hiten's glaive, and then both the pelt and Manten were gone. The fattest Thunder Brother of all had disappeared into thin air as though he was merely an illusion.
With a scream of rage at the loss of his brother, Hiten launched himself directly toward the monk, weapon extended. Unfortunately, this caused the glaive to tear free of his grasp, as Hiten lost his grip on it in the merciless wind. It shrank, compressed into a small space, and was absorbed. Soon nothing was left. Even the earth was furrowed where chunks of it had lifted off and joined the relentless rush of air. Recovering his palm, the monk sank to his knees, panting for breath.
"Dai… daijoubu ka?" Shippou asked tentatively, before he tiptoed toward the man. What was his name again? It felt important to remember. "All you all right?"
With a gasp, Miroku held his right hand close to his chest as though he were injured. "It is … nothing…" he breathed, "Merely that I have not taken in bladed weapons before… I think I must avoid it in the future."
"Bladed … Oh," the kitsune murmured, still a bit mystified by the strange powers of his monk. "Does it hurt? Let me see, I can heal it."
Miroku sighed and shook his head sadly. "It is a curse. None can heal me, but I thank you for your kindness. I must confess I thought the worst of you, when you took those shards from my person."
When the little fox-demon did not reply, Miroku pinned him with an accusing stare. Shippou shuffled his paws, quickly shoving the extra jewel fragments beneath the monk's nose. He had been collecting pieces of the Shikon no Tama with his father, yes, but… "Did you see?" he said in a wavering tone.
Not being an impatient man, Miroku waited for the kitsune to explain. Faint tears gathered in the boy's eyes as he continued. "My father, he defended us from Hiten's lightning."
It began to rain then – a slight drizzle that informed them this night would be cold and unwelcoming. The monk's purple robes took on a black hue and the kitsune's tail stopped looking quite so fluffy. And as they stood there in companionable silence, Miroku made a hard decision. It was impossible, they said, for a holy man and a youkai to live in harmony. Yet he could try. So far, his life had been anything except traditional. Besides, he had always wanted a son.
"So he did, Shippou," Miroku nodded, "Yes, he did."