Every Time
Chapter 5: Fade
Lyrics removed, Japanese removed, on with the show.
Disclaimer: Ebony equals student. Student equals no money. No money equals no Inuyasha.
o
(flashback)
Drip...
Drip...
Tiny pools of scarlet onto the ground. Dripping from the soaked violet robes. The wounds had been lightly covered, but not much could be done until they settled. The wind had picked up, and night was coming fast. It wasn't smart to try and cleanse wounds in the dark.
His head was tilted back so you could see the pale skin of his neck, forming a rough arch, bangs flipped back to tumble with the rest of his hair. Lightly tanned skin and blood. Cuts, scrapes. His head bobbed slightly as Inuyasha carried him. The hanyou's face was a mask, and Kagome knew better than to pester him. Shippou, the poor soul, was trudging along by Kirara's feet. Atop the demon cat, Sangohad beenslung. The wound on her shoulder had pretty much stopped bleeding at that time.
"We can stay in this place," Inuyasha said gruffly, motioning to the inn on their right. "It'll cost us, though. How much we got?"
"Enough," the schoolgirl mumbled, and they headed towards the door. Through the door a sticky aroma wafted, and a man sang drunkenly, chorused by females.
"After all," Kagome said reassuringly for all of them, herself included, "There is no price on life."
The candle flickered dimly in the window, and neither the taijya, nor the houshi stirred, as the last piece of sunshine hid itself behind the horizon.
(end flashback)
o
"There's only one man allowed to touch me!"
Clutching his brusing face, the man stumbled forwards towards her. Her body reeling in pain from the force she exerted, she decided not to attack again until it was direly necessary.
"You know..." the slurred voice came, near to her face, "You're not a bad lookin' girl."
"Get away," Sango said through her clenched teeth. Maybe punching the man before hadn't been such a great idea. The wound on her shoulder felt worse, like it was on fire. She wouldn't be able to use her right arm much. Her body was still weary aw well, Kagome's medicin usually did make her a little drowsy. And the effects hadn't quite worn off.
"You married?" the first man, the one with a scar on his face, asked. She shook her head, watching the second man, the bearded one, closely as well. She took a step back.
"Got a lover then, is that what ya were talkin' 'bout?" Scar Face inquired, and she shook her head again. He looked confused, reaching a hand out for her.
"Whatcha talkin' 'bout then? Seiya, the girl's a crazy one!"
Seiya, or Beard Man, laughed loudly, and began moving around his friend as to cut off Sango. She saw this immeidiately, and began at a sprint. Yet she only succeeded in knocking in Beard Man, as Scar Face had caught onto her hair. He let go as she fell into Beard Man, and they both were pulled to the earth by a little thing called gravity. She forehead knocked into his collarbone, her forearms across his chest. He was fairly muscular from work in the field, she could feel that (much to her disgust) though his plain robe. Both of them were just farmers, so she guessed.
"The girlie wants it, wants it bad," Scar Face said, as reference to the position she'd landed in with her other attacker. Sango tried pushing herself away, but his arms held her in. Pulse beginning to race with dread, she struggled further. He caught her thighs between his legs, so she couldn't use any kicks. Instead she dug her nails into his shoulder, but this only caused slight discomfort to him. He was rather drunk...
'...wants it, wants it bad...'
She knew exactly what it was.
In a sudden burst of fear and urgency throbbing through her, Sango found strength returning, rushing through her. She rocked herself right, and then left, tipping onto her back, the bearded man on top of her still, a confused exopression becoming him.
All she could see in the back of her mind... was a memory of his face...
The man's weight pushing down on her, she swung her legs up to her chest, then pushed them out once more, straight into his stomach. Gasping in pain, he let go of her long enough for the taijiya to roll away. Seconds later, he crashed to the ground, head spinning.
Sango stood, looking furiously at the man still standing, watching. Her fists were clenched, and the wound on her shoulder had re-opened under the strain.
"As I said before," she said firmly, "There is only one man allowed to touch me, and neither of you are that man. Please, tell me which way the healer's is!"
The man looked dazed for a second, then pointed, all the while staring at the young woman. She nodded, still glaring, and began sprinting towards her destination. Pouring every bit of strength she had into it. She could rest later... there were much more important matters at hand. The sound of blood rushing, heart pounding inside her head was becoming all too familiar.
And again, she saw his face...
o
"Inuyasha."
"Ah... Yeah?"
Kagome sighed, looking up at the hanyou perched up in the tree. He glanced down at her, then looked away once more, stubborn.
"Could you come down?"
"Tch. Why?"
"Maybe we should go back and check on Sango and Miroku..."
"That's stupid!"
"You're being inconsiderate!"
"So? It's not my goddamned fault he's hurt!"
"Osuwari!"
The red-clad hanyou promptly fell face-first from the tree, a dust cloud rising as he hit the ground. Pulling himself up, he prepared for Kagome's harsh words. But instead...
"I'm just worried..." she said softly, "He might die...!"
He couldn't tell her Miroku wouldn't die. That would be lying, and it wouldn't do any good. But it wasn't certain he would die either. They at least had that chance. That chance, Inuyasha had to admit, he was hoping for.
"Sango will take care of him," Inuyasha told her, brushing himself off, "Don't worry!"
Kagome bit her lip, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Inuyasha bowed his head, rolling his lips inward, licking them. No emotion showed, not any definite ones, anyways.
'Don't worry...'
"We'll go back in a bit, okay?" Kagome asked quietly.
"Whatever."
o
Drip...
Drip...
Tiny pools of scarlet onto the ground.
o
The water had remained spilled on the wood floor, though the coolness had long gone. The bowl was tipped, some water still in the bottom. Kirara paced in small circles, watching the mostly-silent man in the one corner. He murmured sometimes, looked pained. But he seemed to be repressing it. And as a cat, she could only wait patiently for her mistress' return.
Fortunately that was soon, as hurried footsteps came down the hall, loudly, coupled wih heavy breathing. Finally, Sango slid open the door, collapsing on her knees. In one hand was a bottle, the antidote swirling inside.
"Mi-Miroku-u..." her eyes were tightly shut, and her bags were drenched in sweat. "I'm back, I-"
She looked over, noticing his silence. Kirara mewed happily, and jumped onto her mistress's shoulder. Sango steadied her with one hand, feeling her begin to examine the bleeding of the taijiya's other shoulder. But Sango was already crawling towards Miroku, a sense of dread growing in her chest.
"Miroku?" she whispered, putting the bottle down, using her free hand to lightly touch his cheek. Cold. But he was breathing, he wasn't dead... not yet.
"You're not going to die on me!" she hissed, opening the bottle, "I almost got fucking raped, and you are not going to die on me!"
Kirara licked at her cheek, but Sango only shooed her away. Time was slipping away to fast. It seemed like they'd hardly spent any time together. She'd been meaning to get to know him better. To get to know them all better! A long list of events that could've happened, but some were becoming permanent, ever to be unfinished.
'I wanted to know...'
Her hands carefully tilted back Miroku's neck, his breathing a little hoarse. Carefully, she pulled his lips apart, wincing, as her had began to ache, and things began to spin. It was if the world was crushing her. But she refused to be crushed. Taking the bottle, she brought it to her lips, and irony struck her.
'You're going to have to give it by mouth...' she imagined him saying.
"You stupid lecher," she mumbled, and parted her lips for the bitter liquid. It had taken her and the old lady a while to mix it, but luckily all the required herbs were found.
A cure.
A hope.
Pinching his nose, Sango put her lips to his.
'Swallow... Please swallow...'
The liquid trickled into his mouth from hers, and he stirred lightly under her. Her heart sobbed and screamed, but she refused to move until he swallowed, or choked, or some sign to show he hadn't gone fully under.
'Swallow, dammit!'
A strange gasping sound came from the monk, and the liquid splashed up, but some of it was swallowed. Sweet life, she could feel his heartbeat picking up! She grabbed for the bottle, watching him shiver, so beneath under her.
"You need to swallow," she uttered, taking another drink.
Was this her first kiss?
'It's not a kiss,' she told herself, flustered. And in truth it wasn't, but she couldn't help but blush anyways, bending over him once more. She remembered, not less than a half hour before, when something had possessed her to kiss his forehead. The taste stil lingered, she could not rid herself of it. What made a kiss a kiss? The love shared in it?
Lips to lips, the liquid passed through. Unsure of how much poison was in him, she guessed he needed about five more sips, to be on the safe side. Lips against lips, she drew away again, and he coughed, eyes half-open.
"Sango?"
"You need more of the antidote," she whispered. Miroku nodded, and half-smiled.
"Thank you."
Sango grabbed the bottle, and put one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. No more words were spoken between them in the minutes that passed. She fought hard to keep herself stable and calm, but it was indeed hard. Especially with the feeling of what could be a kiss. At one point, she could've sworn his mouth moved sorrowfully against hers, as if to say good-bye, or sorry. But she knew it could not be so.
Finally, there were only a few drops left in the bottle, and Miroku was at least partially awake. His breath was steady, though there was still pain. He ignored though, using every meditation technique he knew, and instead focused on Sango. His vision was pained and rather unclear, but through it he could see her, and the wreck she'd become.
"Your wound," he tried propping himself, but she promptly placed a hand on each of his shoulders and forced him to lie back down.
"I'm fine," she urged him, "I'll dress it now, if that makes you happy, alright? No looking."
She smiled bleakly. He looked away to the wall, face still grim, and whispered "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" she choked, "Why on earth would you be sorry?"
"You were so worried about me... you-"
"Shut up," she hissed, "Now. I don't want to hear it."
"Sa-"
"I'm going to bandage my goddamned shoulder, alright? Just be quiet."
He closed his eyes, listening to the rustling of material as she pulled back the sleeve of her yukata, the wound dirty, and it would surely fester if it were left to long. She ignored how right he was, and went about taking her arm out of the sleeve, a painful job, and cleansing it. She winced as it stung, knowing her heart hadn't quite settled. She glanced back, making sure the monk hadn't taken a peak.
Strangely enough, he was lying, back to her, Kirara curled up near to his head. His breath was steady. But surely he was in pain. She knew, from watching a rat once that had eaten the poison, it didn't wear off quickly. Even with the antidote it had taken afterwards. Well, at least Miroku didn't seem to have much trouble seeing. The next place it attacked was usually the eyes, and the antidote reached there last.
The blind rat, wandering around, bumping into things. Kohaku had felt sorry for it, and wanted to keep it as a pet. But taijiya don't keep rats as pets. He had had to let the rat go. And the next day, they found it dissected by the river, by an owl, or maybe a fox. Kohaku dug a grave, and they had a funeral. It may have seemed silly, but Kohaku was deadly serious. He gave Sango the chore of killing the rats after that.
o
Kohaku looked up at his hand. A scar cut across it, thin and white. The hand was clean. It still felt numb from the river water, but his eyes played tricks on him. He kept seeing stains... But there was nothing.
He felt he had a place to be, someone was calling him home.
'Home? Where is home?'
His mind couldn't quite place it. His mind wanted him to stay there, under the tree. He looked up, the leaves creating a cover, and through the spaces in between, he could see the stars. Gleaming, and shining. He reached a hand up for their light, trying to capture it. With that light, he could find his way home.
Home.
The face passed through his thoughts again. Pained, and tormented. It made him want to be sick again. But he lived with the feeling. At least he didn't feel so empty anymore. That face filled up a little bit of the shell he was. He was a person, he had personality. And everyone had a past. His had just been lost, that was all.
"I'll find it," he told himself, tracing from one star to the next, "I'll make sure that... that woman isn't sad anymore..."
He imagined her face, the little pieces of it he could remember, turning bright and vivid. her tears evaporating, her lips turning up in smile, as if she were laughing. Her skin was free from dirt, sweat and blood. She was free. They could be free together.
He searched for her name, but could not find it. Just like the stars he grasped at, knowing they were too far away for him ever to touch.