Every Time

Chapter 10: Taint

AN: 10 chapter celebration! Yay! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

Disclaimer: No Inu for me.

The first thing she felt was hatred.

It was small at first, imbedded deep within her chest. But slowly more realization came, sadness, lonliness, wanting. She did not want to feel these things, but didn't want to move. Perhaps it was all a dream, she told herself, but it was truly doubtful.

Miroku… Where was Miroku?

Numb, and trying not to drown inside her own thoughts, Sango suddenly felt the vivid touch of sharp metal to one's neck. Her eyes shot open, training telling her not to move an inch. Just inches from her face was a pair of sepia eyes, eyes she missed and had wanted to see for so long. Chestnut freckles were splashed acropss his noce and cheeks, and though he looked determined, even fearsome, she knew that he was afraid. He was, after all, her brother. Even if he couldn't remember it.

"Wh-who are you?" he whispered fiercely, and her heart died just a little. He relieved some pressure from where his weapon lay against the silky skin of her throat.

"K-Kohaku…" she reached up one hand, a nastalgic smile crossing her face. He jerked away, looking concerned.

"Who are you!" he demanded, planting one hand firmly on her shoulder, pushing her weak body down against the hard wooden surface she rested on. How she got there, or where she was even, was near obvious. Naraku's castle. She was almost choking on the atmosphere. Biting her lip, she complied with her brother's wishes, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

"My name is Sango," she said quietly, hearing it bounce of the walls of the cold, empty room, filled with nothing except her bench, and a dusty tapestry over the window. It was patterned purple and mase, a spider in the middle, large and black with spindly black legs. Looking closely, she would b able to see that a web was carefully stitched over the entire thing. Nothing could escape.

"I'm a youkai taijiya," she continued, hoping he would be satisfied. But no.

"Do I know you?" he demanded in his voice, trembling yuet strong. Sango took a moment to let herself be proud. Her little brother had grown up; changed. She hadn't wanted him to, but it was inevidable. Everything changes, sooner or later. Nothing can remain in the same state forever.

"… yes," she admitted, staring at the cieling. It hurt to look at him. She wanted to hold him then, but she had become the weak one. Where his fingers met the skin unveiled by the neckline of her yukata, there was cold, and she begged he remember something.

"Who are you?" he yelled again, "Who are you to me!"

"Kohaku… My Kohaku… " she gave a wistful smile, "I wasn't here to protect you… and look what's happened… I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this."

Confused by her words, Kohaku peered at her dirty, bloodstained face, the one that haunted him. Her words had come to him before, cacophony of memory sounds he couldn't place. Pieces of a puzzle, but he was blind.

"But I have you now…" she murmured to herself, reaching one hand up. he put up an arm, as if to block it, but hers went around, finding the back of his head. She began pulling him down, and he couldn't quite pull away as his head rested over her left breast, her beating heart buried inside. Overjoyed that she could feel him, she let her other arm come around his shaking body, holding him there. He struggled a little, but she closed her eyes and refused to let go. Soon enough, he stopped, breathing ragged and tears leaking from his eyes for reasons he didn't know.

One word came to mind.

Aneue.

She ran her hands over the scars in his back, through the blue fabric of his robe. One from when he fell out of a tree, when he was four. Another from slipping up on a training mission, but those two were just small, barely visible. In fact, only because she bandaged them did she know they were there. Then she came upon the rest, and knew it could not be a nightmare of any sort. Nightmares weren't that vivid or percise, even her worst.

"Kohaku… my little brother…"

o

"Do you remember anything?" Sango asked softly, running coarse strands of his hair through her fingers. They sat on the bench, in a similiar fashion to a way they had confided in eachother in times before, her back to the wall, his temple to her right shoulder.

Kohaku was about to shake his head, but doubted himself. "A little."

She smiled, so glad, in the dark musty room. "Like what?"

Pain spread across his features, and he gave a slight shiver. "It hurts. I don't want to."

"Kohaku, please!"

"No! You can't make me!" he picked up his weapon from where it lay beside him and pushed away from her, sprinting from the room. Her heart tried to follow him, writhing inside of her.

"Wait! Kohaku, come back!" she called, following him without hesitation. There was no barrier around the room, to her surprise, and she found herself in a long dark hallway, light by a few orange candles on the wall, alighthing silver spiderwebs that lined the ceiling. She followed the sound of his footsteps, of his breathing, not willing to stop. Up a staircase, through a room that smelled undeniably like blood.

Finally, he bumped into something, falling backwards onto the ground. He looked up, then down once again, as if ashamed.

"Naraku-sama…"

Sango swung around the corner, struggling to gain her bearings. She saw Kohaku first, then the figure looming over him with a sickening smile.

"You bastard!" she cried, rushing forwards. She grabbed at the weapon in Kohaku's hand, but he didn't let go.

"Let me kill him!" she pleaded, but he gave her a sad look.

"I'm sorry…"

"Kohaku, give it to me!" she glared upwards at Naraku, the real Naraku, who just watched them, amused. "He killed… so many."

"You want his life for theirs?" Kohaku asked quietly, and she nodded, trying to pry off his cold fingers.

"Does that make it right?" he continued, though mostly to himself, "If that is right, you should kill me too. I've killed people… I can't really remember it, but I did."

His expression became broken, as her attempts grew weaker, Naraku watching curiously.

"And if that is right, someone would have to kill you for killing him, wouldn't they?"

Sango stopped altogether, trembling. She said nothing, eyes hiding beneath the shadows made from lack of light.

"I don't want you to die," he told her, "I don't remember your name… But I don't want you to di. I don't want anyone else to die!"

He became still then, as if his soul had expired, and leaned back against the wall, head bowd to his chest. His eyes grew hazy, and he gave shudders now and then.

"What did you do to him?" Sango asked weakly, plucking the weapon from Kohaku's weak hands.

"I, dear Sango, did nothing," Naraku answered, "If I remember correctly, you were the one that made him this way."

"That's not true!" she protested, getting to her feet. He had gotten stronger, she knew. But so had she.

"Oh really?" he chuckled, "Was it not also you who stole Inuyasha's sword, not that long ago? Or you, who keeps putting the monk into danger? What was his name again?"

Sango murmured something, and Naraku raised an eyebrow.

"What was that now?"

"His name was Miroku," she hissed, getting to her feet. The kusarigama's chains clanked again the floor, faint ringing sounds. Her eyes were empty, though, an expression he loved. Defeated, lifeless. She could barely grasp her purpouse to be alive, besides revenge. Did that not make her the exact same as him when he first started out?

"Go back to your room," he commanded, "Just follow the spiders."

"No," she threatened, but he turned, uninterested.

"Then you must not care what happens to your little brother."

He walked off, and she slowly extinguished her anger. Strangely enough though, when she looked down, Kohaku had vanished. Cursing, she wound up the chain of the weapon she held, and looked to the wall. Disturbingly enough, the spiders seemed all to have come out, and were walking in the direction she came from.

Sango followed them, footsteps dragged and slow. She peeked through windows and doors, finding nothing. Of course, the rooms were probably just under a spell so they looked that way. She couldn't know for sure, and didn't want to find out the hard way, so she continued through the dark silence.

Stopping at an intersection, she squinted at the wall, having a hard time seeing. She began in one direction, but stopped immediately as sound met her ears. A soft, lilting humming, coming from a few rooms over. Hopeful, recognizing the voice, she headed for the room. Through the curtained doorway to one, she could faintly see a figure, and rushed through.

Miroku looked up, frightened. The painful memory of his blindness hit her hard, and she winced, barely able to murmur, "It's me… S-Sango."

"Sango. Looks like he got you too…"

She stood, still for a few moments, trying to restrain her beating heart. He gave her a half-hearted smile as she slowly came forward, out of the shadows trying to encompass her. Her yukata had been ripped, dirtied with earth and blood, and her hair was in dissarray. But haunting were her eyes, misty sienna watching him. She dropped to her knees beside him, where he sat on the cold, hard floor.

"Miroku…" she murmured, falling forwards onto him, forgetting all about the wounds he was supposed to have. Her hands caught his shoulders, and she pulled herself closer to him. Slowly, carefully, her lips met his. She expected the same feeling as before, but it was extremely different. Instead of warmth, there was a devastating cold, there was no faith at all. Only regret.

He tasted dead.

Sango felt him push her away, but didn't want to go. It had to be a mistake, her senses were fooling her! Again, she tried, but he pulled himself away.

"Why…? Miroku, I…"

He 'stared' at the floorboards, playing with the azure beads that still bound his right hand.

He tasted dead.

And her distinct taste burned at his mouth, alive.

"I know we're in Naraku's castle. He made sure i was informed of that. And also that… there's a Shikon no kakera in my back," he said bitterly, "I would've died without it. I'm only half-alive; my body is feeding off it. But I'm not like… not…"

"Not like Kohaku," she offered, sorrowfully. But there was that hope they had to grasp. "You're alive."

"Somewhat…" he nodded bleakly, "The same way you were, when Naraku gave the shard to you…"

Miroku felt a tiny shock as she took his hand agressively, clasping it tightly with hers. The touch was warm against his cold skin, and he felt a disoriented, as his body was rejecting the shard's evil. There was a fletting thought of 'If only Kagome-sama were here', beofre he felt Sango pull a little, fingers tightening their grip.

"Let's go then!" she whispered, "We can kill Naraku, he's been stupid enough to let us in! Then this will all be over, it'll be so simple!"

"It won't work…"

"We can make it work!"

"You're not listening, Sango!" Miroku turned to her angrily, voice resonant in the vacant room, "We don't know anything! We're trapped in his maze, and this is in no way an advantage! I don't know the extemnt of his power of the shard in me, even. He can control Kohaku… Who knows what he could do to me. What if he makes me kill you, Sango? What then?"

"We won't get anywhere if we don't take risks," she protested.

"But if I am forced to murder you-"

"Then I shall die knowiong that we came close, which is a hell of a lot better than doing nothing!" she was on the verge of slapping him, or perhaps walking out of the room. But she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to hold him, and pretend it was okay.

"At least we had that day…" he mentioned after a while of silence, and her heart cringed.

"I wish we could have more…" she shifted the positon of her hand, holding it in one, and tracing patterns on the other. His left hand, the one in which the kazaana lay was still against the floor.

"I don't mean to be so negative… I just don't want any attempts to be in vain." He winced, pain spreading from a place in the back of his neck. "You should probably go…"

"If he wants me to leave, he can tell me himself," she said defiantly. Letting go of his hand, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing him close.

"You can't win a war," she murmured into his coal-black hair, "Without some sacrifices. I don't want you to die, Houshi-sama. I don't want to have to kill Kohaku. But duty might come before desire…"

She decided it was her turn to b strong for him, as she felt wetness sink into her robe, tear stains. It wasn't fair. And the more she though about it, the more Kohaku's words frightened her. Naraku was the bad guy because of all the horrible things he'd done. They'd never given him thought for a second chance. But in someone else's veiw, she, Miroku, Inuyaha; they might be the ones doing wrong. But it was justified, wasn't it?

Or were they all just turning eachother into monsters?

Cloth sluttered in the wind on the roof above, settling against the warm roof. Kagura could hear the sobs, the words. She could hear a lot of what went on in the castle, as it came and went with the wind. Staring at the sky, she felt the sun warm her skin, teasing her.

Two more mice for the maze.

o

"Naraku-sama…?"

He could feel it; inside of him something was pushing up, bubbling, trying to erupt. Sooner or later it would start to spill, sooner or later he would give in to his curiosity as to what it was. Sometimes he would come close, but he always pushed it away at the last second, fearing, suddenly regretting it. Panting, he regained himself.

"Yes, Kohaku?"

"Wh-who was that… That woman?"

Naraku stared at the window, his back to Kohaku. "Why do you want to know?"

"She…" Kohaku stared up at his master, his saviour, and suddenly doubted his confession. "She mentioned something to me."

"And that was?"

"I can't remember, Naraku-sama. I'm sorry." Kohaku bowed his head, trying to slip back into numb.

My sister… she said she was, but… I can't…

There were large holes inside of him, that seemed to go on forever.

Naraku nodded, running a hand over the smooth, rich wood of the windowsil. Kohaku didn't remember; couldn't yet remember. If he did, he was surely go insane.

He was such a useful tool…

The boy did his master's will, sometimes concious, as a boy with no memory. Other times, he was a doll, a puppet strung up, and commanded to dance. Naraku let him roam the castle in his 'alive' state, and if he ever discovered anything uneeded, the memory would simply be covered. If the job was simple, Naraku might let Kohaku go about it with some control, but if it became difficult, or the group of Sango and the others made an appearance, he would revert his toy to listlessness.

"You may go now, Kohaku," the low, sinister voice came, like a tickling in his ear. The boy stood, without another word. He wanted to leave the room of his master, but he wanted someone to be near him. Knowing this was near impossible, he simply made his way to a balcony, the old structure weeping under his weight. He stared vaguely out over the thick forests, the barrier flickering, glimmering every now and then. Reminders of how far away everything was. He found himself wondering about what his life had been like previously. All he knew was that he was a taijiya. The same as… that woman.

Aneue?

Soft footsteps behind him grabbed his attention, and he glanced back. Approaching him was the small white-haired girl. In her hands, she held the mirror, and he could see himself in it, face inquisitive.

"Hey, Kanna," he greeted her quietly. She gave a small nod in acknowledgment, standing beside him liek a statue.

"I don't suppose you would know," he murmured, "Who she is. No…"

In the mirror, his face changed and blurred, morphing into that of the woman. Kanna traced the surface with her hand, and the image sharpened, though dim, shadows crossing her face. She sat next to a man, her lips moving as if talking without sound. Their shoulders touchd, and she looked saddened, as she almost always did. Hurt.

"You can see everything with this mirror…" he said in astonishing, leaning down to get a better view. Kanna shook her head, and he looked up with a questioning expression.

"No…"

She could see many things, but never could see undersatnd. They were just images. She could hold souls, hear their screaming, but she looked on indifferent. She couldn't care. She couldn't even want to care, though she tried. Just a blank page.

He gave her a sad smile, knowing it wouldn't mean anything. He knew then he perferred to know, to feel, even if he didn't know everything, and couldn't handle some of the feelings washing over him.

"Thank you." he said quietly, dipping his head in thanks. She kept the image there, for him to watch a little longer. She was blank. But perhaps she could learn.

o

Miroku lay, in the darkness he'd become accustomed to, but still didn't like. He felt helpless.

Warmth vibrated in his hand, that Sango had just moments ago held. She'd let go for a while, to tidy her hair. As if the tangles would ever work their way out. As if the stains would ever wash away completely.

It was hard for either to speak.

But at least we have now.

"Miroku."

He stirred, pushing himself to sit.

In this instant.

She held his hand tightly once more, breathing in and out slowly. The weights on her heart were so heavy, and it was difficult, so difficult, just thinking.

Being alive.

I have you.

"I won't… won't let him…" she covered her face with one hand, steadying herself. Her body ached for food, for fresh air. There were no windows in the room, and the silence was heavy, choking, strangling them.

He let go of her hand.

This precious instant.

And wrapped his arms around her. The consoling had gone on, back and forth, for the hours they'd been there. Breaking a little more, they helped eachother fit the pieces back together, but they just fell apart again.

"We will get out of here, Sango."

Please let me have that.

"I promise you."

She shook, feeling his coldness. His deadness. He was slipping farther from her, and she had to cling on. There had to be some chance, some way!

Don't take it away from me.

"Please don't lie to me, Miroku." she nearly begged, so weary.

Oh, that chance was so small.

It would be hard to forgive.

End of Chapter 10