Every Time

The title of this chapter is that of an Enya song. It means 'the tears on my heart', in Irish.

Disclaimer: Je n'own pas Inuyasha.

Chapter 4: Deora Ar Mo Chroi

(Flashback)

"Houshi-sama..." Sango felt herself grow even more unwell, as if her stomach would climb up and out of her mouth itself. Closing her eyes for only a second to try and wash out the heat, she let herself fall to her knees, her weight shifting forward. Her hands went out in front of her, but her elbows caved. She hit the ground face first, without scream or resistance. And for long minutes after, she didn't move, eyes unwatching.

'No wonder,' Miroku thought, raising his staff to block another strike, 'It was probably too much for her.'

Kohaku's face was sickeningly blank as he struck again and again, weakening the monk a little more each time. Cuts and scrapes turned into gashes and soon-to-be bruises. And yet Miroku could do nothing.

He could do nothing, as blood tinted his vision, just long enough for Kohaku to reach for that which his master had him create...

Slick with blood, slick the blade...

And with eerie percision, sliced across the monk's side. Blood dripping down, flesh burning and stinging. A hand clutched to the wound, as his eyes danced again to the unconcious taijiya.

"Sango..."

Voice stuck in her throat, the woman stared down at the monk, who gripped her hand as if it were his only lifeline. Which it probably was. The words had become drowned by silence, but echoed in her ears still. Torment.

'Please, kill me.'

He blinked a few times, to clear his vision. Tears leaked from his eyes, just a few, but more than Sango'd ever seen come from him. Come to think of it, she'd never seen him cry at all.

'Please, kill me.'

'I won't... I can't...'

"S-Sango?" he squinted, as if he thought her but a figment of his own delirium.

"I won't let you die!" she yelled, tightening her grip on his hand. The skin stretched, revealing bleached knuckles, and yet he didn't cry out, didn't chastise her. Breath steady as she bit her annatto bottom lip, her eyes searched him hopelessly. He would really give up on life... and it was her fault. All her fault, and she couldn't stop it. Before, she'd tried to make sure nothing of this sort would happen. And yet...

Eyes hazy. Wounds bandaged and still bleeding lightly. He turned over again to cough, shoulders raking with a chill, and things began to make sense, or at least more than they had. Sango grabbed for another strip of cloth, letting her hand support his face once again. With the other she mopped his blood, wincing. She felt him breath, and her heart pounded harder, tears dried and unflowing.

"Miroku..."

What use then was there for formalities?

"I know... you probably don't blame me for this, and you should," she muttered, throwing the blooded strip away. "But you... you're not going to die."

'Not if I can help it.'

She took another deep inhalation.

"Kohaku poisoned you, didn't he? He put something on his blade..."

'I can save you. I can make it better.'

Miroku took a second to process the information, then nodded bleakly. He opened his mouth to speak, but her glare shut him up. His throat was too raw to do much without pain anyways.

"I won't let you die..." she told him forcefully. And she wanted so badly for him to believe it. But the poison had been in his body for more than a few hours... That was the beauty of it, too. Undetectable for the first two or so hours, during which it spreads through the bloodstream. It first triggered chills, then activated in the lungs, eating the flesh slowly, putting the victim in tantalizing misery. She was hoping it hadn't gotten much further.

Naraku had known then.

It was one of the unique poisons used by the taijiya. An odourless, green liquid, that her father had perfected. Kohaku had used iton small practice demons,or asa rat poison. He never liked killing the pests outright... so he laid out poisoned food for them.

"Okay?" Sango asked, and Miroku nodded again. She closed her eyes, and tried to pry herself away.

'What if he dies while I'm gone?

'Don't be a coward! If you don't go, he will die!

'He'll die and it's all your fault...' a malicious voice whispered from within her. Biting her lip again, nearly breaking skin, the taijiya gazed into his heavy-lidded eyes. Her fingers traced a forming scab up the side of his head, resting lightly above his ear, weaving in between the strands. She closed her eyes, and leaned down, unsure as he watched her. Then, eyes closed, she pressed her lips to his forehead.

Miroku felt it, even through his slowed and blurry conciousness. The soft caress of her lips, and yet he could do nothing to enhance it, for fear of poisoning her as well, and the fact that he was mostly paralyzed. In his mind, questions formed. And yet he didn't listen to any of them, sweeping a hand up to rest on her shoulder. Both were shaking. Both were afraid.

And he wanted to stay forever with her like that. But in barely three seconds, she was pulling away, running for the door. Her foot knocked over the bowl, water sloshing onto the floor.

oOooOo

'I don't want to remember... Don't let me remember... Even her face, it hurts me... I think I did something wrong again... but I don't know why! He told me to, was that it?

'I don't want to hurt people anymore... I don't even want to live anymore... But something ties me here... Someone wants me to stay...

'I don't want to hurt her anymore.'

Kohaku looked down at his hands. So many gaps, and things he didn't remember. He didn't know who he was... his name had even escaped him.

There were sounds, and smells. Sometimes even little pictures, unmoving, floated across his eyes before he found himself back in the cold, unforgiving, and untelling world. It was like a maze, entrapment of one's soul. Yet the poor boy didn't know, and couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. And though his heart struggled, it couldn't quite forgive itself.

The odour on his hands was faint, still, as they had been thoroughly numbed by river-water by the time he'd come to. But his mousy nose knew the smell, and his freckled cheeks paled, the spots standing out even more. Then he grew feverish and his stomach purged.

Of course a taijiya would know the smell of blood. Human blood. Two different people. And one of the scents, as far as his human senses could detect... was very, very familiar. Alike to his own.

He rubbed his hands on the grass desperately, whimpering a little despite himself.

'I'm lost, and there's no one to guide me...

'Sometimes, when I'm alseep there's a light. There's someone in that light, caling to me. But below me, someone is drowning in what looks like black ink. It covers her, as she cries and screams. And I reach down, as she's reaching for me, and I fall into the ink-pot too. The ink covers me, and she holds onto me, as we both reach for the surface. And she screams something that I think is my name.'

He looked at his hands, displeased. An insect buzzed overhead, stopping to take some sap from the branch that had cracked pretty much away from the trunk, probably from a storm or the like. It teetered in the slight wind, threatening to fall. Just like that, it could slip, and that whole community of life would be lost. Kohaku looked at it, the little bug nearly upsetting the tipping branch, and reached for his chain-scythe. He stood, then turned around, eyes determined. He felt he had to prove something, whether to himself or anyone else, he didn't know.

He reached his hand back and flung the weapon forwards, feeling the metal run through his fist before it struck the branch. It lerched, teetered, but shifted into a rut into the tree. Perfectly balanced.

The insect that had been drinking the sap got bored and flew off, buzzing happily it's own tune.

OooOo

A sea of bodies stretched before her, lanterns hanging from stalls to light the marketplace. The village was a rather large one, and full of shops and the like. And it seemed the nightlife was even more, well, alive than that of the day. Weaving her way though the crowd, Sango cursed under her breath, using words even Inuyasha might shudder at. Her patience was wearing very thin. The healer of the town... where was that place! She'd seen it before during the day, if only she could recall the location!

Her stomach growled as the sweet aromas hit her hard, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since that afternoon. Just before...

She winced, squeezing agains an obese man and a tall, grim-faced woman to get to where she wanted to be. That poison... surely Naraku had orchestrated the event with knowledge of it. But to what extent? Did he mastermind even Miroku's interference, or was she the real target? Was the town just a setting for his trap, or did coincidence play a card as well.

Was she being watched, even then? She didn't doubt it in the least. How much did Naraku know, about all of them. Maybe even things about her, that she herself didn't fully realize. How much she really... wanted...

Shaking the mind baggage from her, Sango tripped, taking a few off-balance steps. Finding herself in a much shadier part of the village, the taijiya knew she was getting close. The building off to her right did look pretty familiar. To the left!

"Oi! Look at the pretty young thing here!"

A hand took a sweaty, yet firm hold on her wrist, and an ineibriated laugh sounded. She tried to pull away, but found herself unable to break his grasp.

"Let go of me, you pig!" Sango yelled, anxious to get the herbs she needed, struggling against him with vengeance. Something human touched her back, purpousely, and her leg went flailing out. It made solid contact with someone's side, but she herself toppled into her first attacker. Her breasts pressed against his front painfully and he laughed again, his sour breath causing her to gag.

"Precious girlie can't stay away from me!" he exclaimed, moving his other hand clumsily onto her shoulder. The exact spot Miroku's hand had been, so comforting, was now a spot of clammy discomfort.

"Don't!" the taijiya shrieked, her heartbeat speeding up. She needed to get those herbs, and soon! Else Miroku...

"Come on, girlie, surely ya don' mind me touchin' ya!" Greasy hair, pulled up into a topknot, this man was a regular monster. And he couldn't be less than twice her age!

"There's only..." she wrestled her way nearly out of his hold, slamming her fists against him.

"Wazzat, girlie?"

Turning her bright and fierce eyes to him, Sango sent a punch directly to his face.

"There's only one man allowed to touch me!"

oOooOo

The room seemed empty without her. In the corner, Kirara had stirred from her slumber, looking sorrowfully at the monk. Like a block of ice, he stared to the ceiling. His hand trembled, wanting to reach for the recent memory of his care-taker.

Sango. She had... kissed him. She told him she would save him. And even those notions made him happy enough to die. But he would not take his own life, for that would only sadden her further. He didn't want his Sango to be sad.

She'd kissed him. There on the forehead. Her lips against his skin, just chastly, but it broke his heart into a million pieces. He'd wanted to give it to her. But both had been tainted by unfortunate circumstance. How did he even know if she would take it... he knew he couldn't. It would only cause more harm to them all.

The memory replayed again, and he watched it. Wishing he could talk, say something to her. Tell her things she might not want to hear, but things that were true! Or true as he saw them. He didn't want to die suffering, unhonorably. At least if it was Sango's hand behind the blade...

"I should've known."

Kirara mewed lightly, and he sighed. Sango had said she could save him...

His heart seized, and he knew the toxin was... was there, and...

'My Sango...'

Then there was only crimson stained darkness.

End of Chapter 4