Disclaimer: If I owned InuyashaBut I don't. So don't sue. Please.

Author's Note: Yay! I have finally returned! Sorry guys. The emotional stress on me lately has been quite overpowering, and I have found my writer's block more of an issure than ever before. The thing is, I know what I want to say, it's just when the words come out, they sound muddled and poorly thought-out. But I'm back now!

As promised, I shall now rant about Chiba Jou and Chiba Ton. Honestly, when they made their first appearance in Chapter 3, I never expected them to reemerge. At least, not as good guys. Originally, they had no affiliation with Scarlet, which is very much not the case now. Scarlet also had a quite different purpose when she first came into being. But I'm here to talk about Jou and Ton, not Scarlet.

As far as inspiration goes, Jou is more or less modeled after my older brother. The cool, collected individual with a hint of cockiness in his bearing. Also, he's overly protective of his younger sibling, Ton, just like my brother is of me. Ton is more like my little brother. He wants desperately to prove himself, and to seem strong, when really he's just a child.

The cloth covering Jou's face was originally there to show how much of a sword master Jou truly was. It was really a last minute decision to make him blind, but I rather like it. It gives him more of a history, and a better reason to leave the Kawate army.

Well, I think that just about covers it.

Speaking of coversthe cover for this story is in the most finished state it's going to be in for a while. If anyone would like to see it, email me and I'll email it back to you. It's in JPEG form, so you should be able to open it regardless of what kind of computer you have.

Translations:

Houshi desu (hoh-shee) (deh-soo)- I am a monk, basically. Miroku says this to defend his poor shot-down honor.

Konnichiwa (kohn-nee-chee-wah)- Good day

Kosode (koh-soh-deh) – A simpler form of kimono. A kosode has small, three-quarter sleeves. Sango wears one in the series over her cat suit.

Nani (nahn-nee)- What?

Yukata (yoo-kah-tah)- In modern Japan, the yukata is a light cotton summer kimono, and is very informal. They are usually brightly colored and worn to festivities. In Sengoku Jidai, a yukata is a formal, festive kimono.

Chapter 15, Losing Self

"Miroku-sama?"

Miroku looked up as Scarlet padded into the room. Her head wound was still bound in its first set of bandages –though the blood had now soaked through—and her yukata was far too tight around her chest, but her magnificent beauty was undaunted. The yukata had been provided by Jou's sister; it was the only garment she had that could possibly hope to fit around Scarlet's chest. With the light pouring in from behind her, her comely figure was quite obvious.

"What is it?" Miroku asked, trying to avoid looking at her chest. He spoke softly, careful not disturb Sango nor Ton, who were both asleep in the room, mending.

Scarlet walked farther into the room, letting the screen fall back into place. All that now lit the room were the pale slivers of light that seeped through the breaks in the screen. Scarlet paused, and looked over at Sango. "How's she doing?"

Miroku looked over his shoulder at the princess. "She still has a fever, but she'll be well enough once she finishes sleeping it off."

Scarlet smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for the things I said to her the first time we met. She stayed up all last night in wet clothes, watching over me." She looked up at Miroku. "It was really brave of her."

A grin started on Miroku's face. "Yes, well, you wouldn't believe how brave Sango really is."

"I'm sure," Scarlet said.

A look of sorrow swept over Scarlet, and her icy eyes darted to Ton, who laid spread out on his futon before Miroku. She knelt beside the ashen-faced youth.

Jou's little brother looked halfway to death. His black hair fanned out behind him in brilliant contrast to the pallor of his face. His forehead and upper lip were covered in fine beads of sweat. His bottom lip trembled. His chest, where his self-afflicted wound sat open and carefully cleaned, rose and fell with his shallow, quick breaths.

Something akin to a whimper escaped from Scarlet's chest as she reached out with shaking hand to stroke Ton's cheek. "Are you going to be operating on Ton now?" she said after a moment.

Miroku held up the threaded needle in his one hand and pointed to the bowl of hot water with his other to answer her question. As a houshi, he was expected to have medical training, but as a prince, his real training was very limited.

Scarlet frowned and looked from the medical tools to Miroku's face. "Do you have the proper training?"

"Houshi desu," Miroku lied, speaking as though that would help settle her doubts.

Scarlet arched an eyebrow. "Yes," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "and I'm really a man."

Miroku's stomach dropped. He had been right, Scarlet did know he wasn't really a houshi. He looked at his hands, now folded neatly in lap. "How did you know?"

"How did I not?" Scarlet sneered. "Miroku-sama, we're all hiding something, some of us are just better at it than others."

Miroku's amethyst eyes lifted to her face, catching the light like a prism. "What are you hiding, Scarlet-san?"

Scarlet blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. As if in a sudden stroke of modesty, she reached up and tugged her yukata tighter around her chest. Miroku spied again the tattoo of the fiery phoenix that resided there. "Me?" she grinned, recalling his gaze to her face. "Why should I tell you if you haven't yet figured it out?"

Miroku frowned, but decided to let the matter slide. He would think more about it later.

They sat in silence for a moment, almost unconsciously watching Ton breathe.

"Can I do it?" Scarlet asked suddenly.

"Do what?" Miroku said, starting at the sound of Scarlet's voice.

"Can I operate on him?"

Miroku frowned and tightened his grip on the threaded needle.

Scarlet saw the gesture and narrowed her icy eyes. When she looked at him again, there was wild anger nestled just behind the crystal irises. "If this your way of telling me you don't trust me?"

Miroku thinned his lips, and then said, "Yes."

Scarlet tensed and looked away. "I thought perhaps we had achieved some sort of respect for one another, Miroku-sama." There was a definite change in her exterior from what it had been moments ago. Before, she had been open and relaxed. Now, she was filled with anger and hurt. Her whole body reflected it clearing: from the submissive position of her head to the clenched hands in her lap, she was vehement.

Scarlet pushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ears and looked up at Miroku. He was astonished to see tears sliding down her cheeks. "Sc-Scarlet" he stammered, his eyes wide and blinking.

"Miroku-sama," she managed, her voice infinitely calmer than her face. "This boy...he's like a brother to me! If it were you, what would you do?"

Miroku furrowed his brow and looked back at his hands. "I" he started. "I would entrust him to the care of the more well-equipped person."

Scarlet reached out and touched his clenched hands. Her touch was gentle, and surprisingly, comforting. "Miroku-sama, I think both of us know you are not that person."

Miroku looked up at her, and then away again. He nodded slowly, and then placed the needle in Scarlet's outstretched palm.

(-)

The sun was sinking slowly behind the horizon. Miroku watched it from the riverbank, his look distant. He was deep in thought, his mind mulling over matters as the water churned restlessly before him. He was afraid of the river, he knew, and longed to be far from it. But another part of him, the more commonsensical part, reminded him that the only way to escape fear was to conquer it.

Sango had been sleeping a whole half of the day. Her fever had risen and fallen in a steady pattern, but she had still not awakened. Ton was resting peacefully, his surgery completed. After Scarlet had left the room, Miroku had slipped in and checked the stitches carefully. He was surprised to find how skillful Scarlet's handiwork really was.

Again, Miroku wondered at the conversation he had shared with Scarlet. She had revealed to him that she knew he was not a houshi, but how much did she really know about him? Did she know who he really was, or just what he wasn't? And what was Scarlet's secret? Miroku frowned and placed his aching head in his hands. There would be no way of knowing unless he asked.

"Miroku-sama?"

Miroku lifted his face and grinned half-heartedly at Scarlet. She smiled back and pushed through the brush to sit beside him. "You wanted to talk?" Miroku opened his mouth to ask how she knew, but the woman raised a finger to silence him. "As I said before, Miroku-sama, you're no good at hiding things."

Once again, a half-smile started on Miroku's face. "I guess you're right."

"What do you want to talk about?" Scarlet prompted.

"What you said before," Miroku said, running a hand through his jet-black hair.

"Ah," Scarlet said softly. "You want to know about my secret."

"Well" Miroku frowned and smoothed an imaginary crinkle in his patched-up robes. "Yes."

"Then you're asking the wrong person," a cold voice chuckled from behind them.

The two companions whirled around. "Naraku!" Scarlet growled, her icy eyes narrowing.

Miroku curled his lip and drew Kyoden's sword. He rose to his feet and faced the evil thing.

Naraku bore a malicious smirk on his face. "Konbanwa, Scarlet and friend. So good to see you out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to come to your aid and the river at your backs, ready to swallow you whole."

For a moment, Miroku was overwhelmed by nausea, but he quickly regained his composure. "Naraku, you'll pay for what you've done! I know it was you who sent the dragon to flood the river!"

Naraku's face brightened with fiendish delight. "Ah! Clever boy," he oozed sarcastically. His sapphire eyes alighted on Kyoden's blade. "I see you're becoming quite confident using that sword, Miroku. It's clear you have yet to uncover its secrets."

"What do you want!" Scarlet barked, stepping forward.

Naraku narrowed his eyes and looked at the girl. "So rude. Shut up." He reached out and slapped her sharply across the face. Scarlet tumbled aside, caught off-guard. Radiating anger and hate, she wiped the blood from her lip and cast her ferocious gaze at Naraku.

"You bastard!" Miroku erupted. He tightened his hold on Kyoden's sword.

"Now really, oji. No need to be angry," Naraku cackled.

"O-oji!" Scarlet said, her wide eyes darting to Miroku's face, which had just darkened.

"Oh!" Naraku exclaimed, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. "You mean you didn't know, Scarlet?"

Scarlet was still looking at Miroku. "M-Miroku-sama, is this true?"

Miroku didn't move, didn't look at Scarlet. He kept his amethyst eyes trained to Naraku's face. There was rage in his aura. Clutching his brother's katana, his hand twitched. Every nerve in his body was on end. His mind screamed for blood, for vengeance.

But somewhere in the very back of his mind, there was another presence keeping his sword still.

"Have you come for a fight?" Miroku asked, his voice just above a hiss.

"Fight you?" Naraku sneered. "I wouldn't dream of it. Not yet anyway." He stepped back and placed his hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. "No, I'm here to give you fair warning, oji."

Miroku arched one eyebrow. "Warning?"

"Yes," Naraku smiled. "I'm here to warn you that the Blood Seal is weakening"

Miroku's eyes widened. Hahaue!' He regained his guarded exposure, and regarded Naraku icily. "What are you planning to do!"

Naraku's smile grew, becoming maniacal. "Me? Why, oji, I'm going to destroy your home, just like I did Sango's. And when that's done, I'm going to destroy you and the princess."

Miroku suddenly felt hollow, as he had when Fumihiko had told him of his brother's death. A memory bubbled up within him, and once again he stood in his mother's dark room, a small boy of eight.

You wanted to see me, hahaue?' he asked in his small child's voice.

Miroku? Is that you?' A woman's voice asked. It clear and calming like the ringing of wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

It's me, hahaue.'

There was the whisper of silk, and then a pale, beautiful face emerged from the darkness. Twin sets of amethysts met through the blackness of the room, and Miroku felt his heart swell in his chest. my baby. Come here.'

Miroku crept across the room to his mother's futon, trying to look strong and proud. His mother hadn't seen him since his birth, and he wanted to show her just how great a son he was.

He wasn't expecting to be pulled into his mother, engulfed in layers of silk. He was frozen for a moment, stunned and overwhelmed by this definite display of parental love. He breathed deeply, inhaling his mother's scent. It was like spring, crisp and fragrant.

' his mother whispered, tightening her arms around his shoulders. Miroku, I know it's been hard for you.' Miroku felt a tear hit his cheek. He looked up and saw his mother's eyes filled with moisture. I'm so sorry, my son. I've earned you your father's loathing.'

Surrounded by soft maternal security, Miroku felt his own sobs build up in his chest.

If only I'd been stronger. If only' She was cut off by her own sobs, and let her head fall onto Miroku's. I want you to know, Miroku. I love you. I love you with all my heart'

Miroku gasped and buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck so she wouldn't see the tears that were trailing silently down his cheeks. He could feel his mother's warm smile as she passed a hand through his dark hair.

Promise me something, Miroku.'

Miroku nodded, unable to speak because of the sobs that constricted his throat.

Promise me you'll be strong.'

I promise, hahaue'

Miroku looked at Naraku, his amethyst eyes dark and full of hate. "I won't let you do that."

Naraku raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"You won't destroy anything else! You bastard!" Miroku roared. He gripped his sword and brought it to his hand. "Your life ends here." And with that, Miroku cut the prayer beads from his hand, and released his curse.

It was the strangest thing Miroku had ever experienced. The Kazaana in his hand began sucking immediately. The whole world seemed to be twisting in the direction of his outstretched palm, including trees, earth, plants, Scarlet's long hair, and Naraku. Miroku could feel each item as it entered through the hole in his hand and was lost to oblivion. He smiled, somehow filled with deep, maniacal pleasure. He took a step towards Naraku, and then another.

Naraku's eyes widened as the Kazaana advanced on him. Miroku's smile grew.

Scarlet saw the evil smile on Miroku's face, and her heart leapt in her chest. "Miroku-sama" she breathed, amazed at the transformation the man had undergone in the last few moments. A sudden fear gripped her, and she rose shaking to her feet.

"Miroku-sama!" she screamed, running towards him. "No! Miroku-sama!"

Miroku ignored her and kept moving toward Naraku.

"Miroku-sama! Damare!" Scarlet reached out and grabbed the cloth along Miroku's back. "No! You have to stop!" There was something wrong with the air Miroku occupied. It was blacker than that around italmost as if an evil was omitting from the self-appointed houshi. She had to stop it, and quickly, before Miroku was consumed by it.

But Miroku was getting closer. His eyes were focused on Naraku's widened sapphire irises. He was hungryfor vengeance. He didn't even notice that his self was being pushed farther and farther into a corner of his mind.

"Stop it, Miroku. This is not who you are," a voice said suddenly in his mind, clear and precise and definite.

Miroku froze. "K-Kyoden?" he gasped, recognizing the voice.

There was no answer. Miroku looked in front of him and saw Naraku, watching him as if he was a monster. He felt Scarlet's hands on his back, and heard her fearful sobs.

"Stopplease, stop"

Miroku grabbed the strand of prayer beads that still hung around his wrist and gripped them firmly in his palm. The Kazaana was sealed away. When he raised his eyes to find Naraku, the demon was gone.

(-)

He was frustrated. Sango could feel it even though she lay across the room from him, but she couldn't understand this frustration. She watched as he dipped the cloth into the hot water, almost hypnotized by the movement. She watched his muscles tightened and twist as he wrung the cloth out and placed it on Ton's forehead.

And then he turned to her. There was immense weariness in his amethyst eyes, as though he hadn't slept in days. Sango offered him a small smile, and he looked surprised.

"You're awake," Miroku said. He rose and crossed the room to kneel beside her. Sango did not protest as he reached out to feel her forehead. He frowned. "You're still hot."

Sango looked at the door, through which a small sliver of light entered the room. "How long have I been out?" she asked softly, her voice weaker than she had expected it to be.

Miroku took the bowl from where it sat beside her futon and placed it in his lap. He extracted a small pouch from his robes and pulled the drawstrings open. Then, he emptied the powdery contents of the pouch into Sango's bowl. "Almost a day now," he informed her.

Sango grimaced. "What's in that?"

Miroku slipped a hand under her back to help her onto her elbows. He lifted the bowl to her lips. "I made it. It'll help you sleep."

Sango sealed her lips against the liquid, and it spilled onto her yukata.

Miroku sighed exasperatedly. "Sango" he moaned as he put the bowl down and reached out to wipe the liquid from the front of her yukata. "You need your rest. You stayed in your wet clothes all that night, and you're running a high fever."

Sango looked away from him. "I don't want that medicine."

'Buddha, help me,' Miroku pleaded, directing his eyes skyward. He picked the bowl up again and held it out imploringly. "Please, Sango."

Sango furrowed her brow and then turned to him. Her eyes darted from the bowl to his face several times, and then she collapsed her chest with a mighty sigh. "Fine," she whined.

A soft smile of gratitude spread across Miroku's face, and he offered the bowl to Sango's lips again. She locked eyes with him and then took a deep gulp of the medicine. When she had finished the bowl, Miroku put it back.

It began working almost immediately. Sango leaned back slowly. Her eyelids were heavy and her pillow comforting. She reached for her sheets, but didn't have the energy to take them up around her shoulders. Miroku saw her effort, then pulled the sheets up for her, tucking them securely around her body. He nodded to her and then turned toward the door.

"Houshi-sama" Sango said faintly.

Miroku turned, arching an eyebrow.

"Thank youfor saving me," Sango murmured.

Stupidly, Miroku blinked. Then, his customary boyish grin spread across his face. "As ever, Sango, you're most welcome."

Sango smiled and then closed her eyes.

Miroku watched her for a moment, slipping into the protective layers of sleep, and then sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he left the room. It had been a passing thought, a passing thingbut that did not excuse its existence. For a second, Miroku had wondered just how it would feel to have her lips pressed against his.

(-)

As she slept, Sango dreamt vividly. First, she was in the gardens of her home. The flowers were blooming with bright colors, and their silky petals were covered in a fine layer of dew. Kyoden stood beside her, but she couldn't see his face.

Sango-sama, he whispered to her.

Sango turned to him, and found suddenly that the distance between them had grown. His back was to her, and he was walking away. Sango tried to call to him, but she was voiceless.

Kyoden turned around then, and Sango barked in surprise.

It was Miroku.

The image faded and was replaced by a new one. She was in a large dark room completely empty but for her. Her head was bowed and she clutched a small dagger in her hand. Across the shoji to her far right, the misshapen shadows of demons danced. Sango lifted her dagger and held it to her wrist.

Then, she closed her eyes tightly and slashed.

There was no pain. Her eyes flew open as blood hit her cheek. Her eyes went wide, her face blanched, and a small gasp escaped her throat as she beheld what she had done: Her dagger was embedded deep in Miroku's chest.

Sango, he whispered weakly as he slumped over into her arms.

Houshi-samaSango breathed. Panic welled up in her chest, and her blood ran cold. HOUSHI-SAMA!

"Sango, wake up."

Sango's eyes opened. "H-houshi-sama?" she questioned the dark room.

A face appeared from the blackness. "Konnichiwa, Sango." Sango recognized the face and the voice that belonged to it as Scarlet's.

"Konnichiwa, Scarlet" Sango muttered, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

Scarlet rose from her bedside. Her beautiful face was grave. "Houshi-sama is on the porch." She looked at the ground, and when she looked at Sango again, there was something dark hidden behind her icy blue eyes. "He wants to talk to you." With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

Sango slipped out of the futon. She found a white and magenta patterned kosode and a modest green apron folded neatly beside her futon. She changed out of her light white kimono and into the new clothes, grateful for something warmer than what she had been wearing. Scarlet reappeared and handed Sango a small white ribbon. Sango secured it around the end of her brunette locks and then slipped out of the room to the hall and then to the porch beyond.

Miroku was sitting just outside, his legs hanging over the edge of the porch. He didn't look up as Sango neared him. So, she sat down beside him and waited.

"Sango" Miroku whispered after a time. "Do you trust me?"

Sango jumped at the question. "Nani?"

"I asked: do you trust me?" Miroku turned and looked at her now. His amethyst eyes were intense, and Sango saw behind them the same darkness she had seen in Scarlet's.

Sango blushed lightly and lowered her eyes. "I-I suppose so."

Miroku shook his head. "No. I need a definite answer, Sango. Do you trust mewith your life?"

Sango blinked, but did not look at him yet. "Well, houshi-samado you trust me with your life?"

Miroku raised his eyebrows. Then, he flashed he one his most boyishly stunning grins and said, "Of course."

Sango smiled as well and looked at him. "Then I trust you, too."

Miroku nodded and turned his face southeast. "Sango, there's something we have to do."

Sango frowned. "What is it?"

There was sadness in Miroku's orbs as he looked at her again. "We have to go to the Takara kingdom, Sango."

Sango furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? Butwhy? When we're so close to Naraku, why would we go there?"

Miroku rose to his feet and sauntered off a few paces. All around, the trees of the forest loomed. And somewhere not far ahead, Sango could hear the loathsome gurgling of the river that had almost killed Miroku and herself. "While I was talking with Scarlet at the riverbank last night, Naraku appeared to us. He told us that he was going to attack that Takara kingdom and destroy it, just as he did to yours."

Sango blanched. "Do they have any idea?"

"No," Miroku said, shaking his head gravely. "They'll be struck without warning. And when that happens, the Blood Seal will be weakened even more." Sango wanted to see his eyes, to see what was going on in his head, but he wouldn't look at her. She noted suddenly that his hand was tightly clenching the hilt of Kyoden's katana. "SangoI can't let that happen."

Her grimace deepened. "No offense, houshi-sama, but why are you so bothered by it? You make it sound personal"

A shiver of tension passed through Miroku's frame, but was gone as soon as it had come. "I" he began. "I can't explain it. I just don't want something so awful to happen to someone else. The Takara kingdom has already lost the ideal, perfect heir to their throne; I don't think it's right to make them suffer anymore."

Sango rose to her feet. "If that's where Naraku is going, houshi-sama, that's where I will go."

Miroku nodded briskly, his back still turned to her, and walked back into the house. Sango stood outside for a moment longer, studying the placid landscape around her, and wondering at the tension she had seen in Miroku at her question.

Ichimu