Disclaimer: Never owned it, never will.
Author's Note: Well, I suppose you all deserve an explanation, and here it is, plain and simple: my grandfather died, I had make-up homework, and then I had to study for finals. I still should be studying, but now that things have calmed down a bit at my house, I can actually sit down for five minutes without someone breaking out in tears.
AHHHH! They changed the formatting for ff . net! I'm so lost…
Translations:
Mou (moh) – an expression of agitation
Shinai (shee-nay) – a practice sword, usually constructed of bound bamboo fibers.
Chapter 17, The Signs of PowerScarlet was trying her best to calm her breath against the racing of her heart; if she didn't, Miroku would certainly hear her. Twice already, she was sure they would be caught when Sango had fidgeted. Sango looked to the princess again. She was sitting perfectly still, her eyes focused unblinkingly on Miroku. Scarlet wondered at what Sango was seeing.
'Can she see what I do?'
'No,' she answered herself immediately. If Sango had seen what Scarlet was witnessing, she would be out of the bushes in a heartbeat. No, Scarlet was alone in this. She turned his icy blue eyes back to Miroku. He too was sitting still, his eyes locked on those of the image in front of him, the image that bore Sango's face. Everything about him was tension.
When they had arrived seconds ago, Scarlet had watched Miroku drive his katana through Sango's heart. Of course, it was nothing but Sango's image, but the picture of that moment haunted her relentlessly. She pushed it away, telling herself that she would deal with it later at an appropriate time.
Scarlet bit her lip in anxiety. It was impossible to make out what Miroku and the image were saying, but Scarlet could guess that there was something that Sango's image wanted badly. And Miroku was reluctant to give it to her for some reason or another. As soon as she had taken in the scene, Scarlet had known what Miroku was doing. He had assembled his fears before him, an old trick of those with some measure of spiritual power.
"Sango," she breathed.
The princess turned to her, her dark eyes sharp.
"I'm not sure exactly what Miroku is doing, but I'm pretty sure he's going to need our help," Scarlet advised, her voice just above a whisper. "When I give the signal, I want you to run with all your power and grab Miroku."
Confusion spread across the princess's face like dawn's light across the night sky. "Grab?"
"Yes," Scarlet said with a nod. "Grab. Miroku could be in very serious trouble." 'Without even knowing it', she added mentally, but said nothing more to Sango. Sango nodded and turned away again.
(-)
Miroku clenched and unclenched his hands, glaring darkly at the hilt of the katana as it stuck out of Sango's chest. He fought to keep his emotions in check, to keep from screaming in rage, to keep from ripping the blade right through her chest. The grinding of his teeth made a hollow noise in his head.
'Make it stop', he screamed silently. 'Make all this stop!'
He embraced the first memory that came to his mind, wrapping it around him like a protective shield, shutting him away from the world. It was a small memory, full of color. He and Kyoden were in the gardens, young boys both. Kyoden was laughing at him because, as usual, Miroku was messing up with his shinai training.
"You're holding it wrong!" Kyoden was roaring with laughter, pointing uncharitably at his brother's obvious mistake. Miroku was bright red, and furiously began to fix the problem. He had been holding it with his hands together again, instead of keeping his hands on either ends of the hilt.
He fixed the problem, but Kyoden was still chucking. "You'll never become a swordsman if you can't even hold your shinai! Mou, Miroku, you won't be able to kill a fly!"
Miroku quickly discarded the memory, shutting out the sunshine and brightness of the flowers, and even more the feeling of utmost humiliation.
"Mi-Miroku…" The image of Sango that knelt on the grass before him shimmered. Miroku felt his stomach roll, and reached up to wipe the kiss it had given him decisively from his lips. It should have meant nothing to him that the image had kissed him, but it couldn't. It was an image of Sango, and that memory couldn't be so effortlessly cast aside.
Especially because it was what he had wanted.
'NO!' Miroku thought ferociously, looking away. He wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't lose his will power so easily. He would hold strong against the useless feelings that welled up inside of him and consumed his heart. Useless, yes; what could he do with such silly feelings?
What did he have to offer to a girl like Sango?
"Miroku," the image whispered, consolidating again. "Try not to be dumb. You and I both know that I can't be gotten rid of so easily." It reached down and drew the sword out of its chest. "You must face your fears."
Miroku looked back at the image of Sango. His heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest. Something stirred in the brush off to his left, but he ignored it. "I know," he whispered hoarsely.
"Well? Tell me what you are afraid of."
Miroku swallowed against the desert in his throat. It was funny that he would be so wet everywhere but there. There was sweat all down his neck and back, collecting in pools at his palms, and resting in a fine layer against his face. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't ready to do so yet.
Again, the brush to his left stirred. Miroku cocked his eyebrow, but disregarded the movement as that of a nocturnal hunter, closing in on its prey. Miroku felt a sudden kinship to that same prey.
The image reached out and took Miroku's hand, calling his eyes back to its own. Miroku noted that the place where Kyoden's sword should have left a gaping hold was healed over. "Miroku," the image whispered imploringly.
Miroku found himself wondering suddenly if the real Sango would ever call him that… if she would ever discover the truth of his identity. How would she respond to having been lied to all this time? Should he tell her? How would it change their relationship? He pushed the thoughts away. 'Enough unanswerable questions', he growled in his mind.
"Miroku, tell me."
He closed his eyes tightly, and another memory began to unfold behind his eyelids.
"Get up, boy," a voice called harshly.
Miroku had taking his riding lesson, and had fallen from his horse. Since he was only six and rather puny for his age, his horse had failed to see him and had mistakenly put its foot down on Miroku's. Miroku had blacked out momentarily from the pain. Now, he looked up into his father's face. "Chichiwe…" he breathed, terrified.
Kyoden was at his side at once, helping him to regain his feet. "Come on, Miroku," he said gently, brushing the dirt off the front of his little brother's gi. "You're not hurt badly, are you?"
Miroku tried to put weight on his injured foot, only to be met with searing pain. He thought he was going to black out again, but he only fell over face-first into the dirt. Kyoden leaned down and grabbed his arm to help him up, but their father's hand came up and caught Kyoden across the face in a sound slap. Kyoden stumbled back, clutching his face.
"He'll get up on his own or he won't get up at all!" Takara Bairei roared. His lined face was dark with fury, his black eyes sparkling.
Kyoden shrunk back, still holding his now-swelling cheek. He managed a swift bow to his father, and then gave Miroku a meaningful glance.
Miroku trembled and pushed himself off the ground. He gave a cry and collapsed from exhaustion. He looked at his father again, and was met with a sharp kick in his ribs. Miroku rolled across the ground.
"What have I told you, boy!" Takara Bairei shrieked, his voice filling the palace grounds. "You are never to look at me with those eyes. Now, get on your feet, you worthless filth!"
Miroku set his jaw, fighting against the tears that were building his eyes and the pain that was burning in his ankle. He pushed himself slowly to his knees, shakily and slowly. Her gasped for air, and then held his breath as he rose onto one leg and then the other. With his eyes set, he turned to his father and looked him in the eyes.
Takara Bairei watched his youngest son with cold wonder, and then turned his back on him. He stomped away toward the palace without another word.
Miroku bit his lip and shoved that memory aside. That wasn't one he wanted to remember ever again. It had taken him two weeks to recover from that wound, but the one that ran through his heart had never healed.
Miroku opened his eyes and looked at Sango's image.
She looked back, and he thought of the first time he had ever seen Sango, bloodied and half-frozen on the road connecting their kingdoms. She had been so frail then, and so in pain. He hadn't felt this was about her then; she had been no more than his charge. He sorted through his memories of them, and tried to find the defining moment of their relationship. It was like trying to pin a wave to the sand.
He shook his head. Something was wrong. There was a rock in his stomach, and he couldn't find the words to speak. He tried to begin, but sudden nausea sprung up inside of him, shaking him badly. He blinked back the darkness that filmed over his vision. He corrected himself and tried again, but this time he was nearly doubled over as an invisible punch winded him. His head was reeling. And then, he blacked out.
(-)
"Now!" Scarlet hissed.
Sango was out of the brush at once, streaking across the clearing like a lightening bolt. Scarlet was right behind her, the thunderclap. She reached into her robes and found her small pouch. It wasn't much, but she hadn't expected anything of this nature to happen.
Then Sango was there, her arms wrapped around Miroku's holding him fast. The self-appointed houshi was out cold, having blacked out immediately upon trying to conquer his fear.
Scarlet reached into her pouch and collected the fine silver powder into her hand. She stopped in front of Miroku, facing the image of Sango.
The image looked at her coldly, indifferently. "What do you plan to do?" she said with a frown.
But Scarlet was already acting. She poured her power into her hand, and the powder caught fire. "Leave now." She flung it at the image with all her might, and it dispersed with a howl of agony, the flames dying with it.
Scarlet relaxed her body with a heavy sigh.
"Scarlet…" Sango breathed. "What just happened?"
"Never you mind, princess," Scarlet said with a smile, looking back at Sango's anxious face. She turned herself, placed the powder back in its spot in her kimono, and walked over to where Sango and Miroku waited.
She checked Miroku's pulse quickly, found it healthy if not a bit fast, and then moved to the river. "Bring him over here," she instructed Sango. The princess did as she was told, dragging Miroku to the waterside.
Scarlet cupped a bit of water into her hands and threw it onto Miroku's face. The houshi jerked awake, his amethyst eyes still unclear as they tried to take in the scene. Scarlet leaned over and touched his face. "You're alright, Miroku."
Miroku looked up at Sango. "Sango…" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Sango offered a small smile of relief. Scarlet watched them for a moment, and then summoned a small amount of her power into her fingertips. Miroku blinked against the sudden fatigue Scarlet poured into him through her fingers, and then he was asleep.
Sango stared at Scarlet. "What was that?"
Scarlet gave a cold, discerning glance. "I don't know what you're talking about. Miroku-sama was just tired. He felt asleep," she kept emotion out of her voice, nervous that it would give her away.
Sango shook her head. "No, you did something just now. Houshi-sama was completely conscious, and then…" she paused, her brow furrowing. "Something happened between your fingertips and his cheek."
Scarlet raised an eyebrow. Could she have seen? Was Sango that perceptive? Sudden panic gripped her. If that was true, did she know of Scarlet's identity? "Nothing happened. You were obviously imagining things."
The princess's lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. "No, I-"
"Scarlet-sama!" a soft voice said suddenly from behind them. Scarlet looked up and her eyes connected with Yu. Jou stood behind her, his sword ready. Yu looked concerned and confused, but Scarlet didn't believe it for a second. Yu was far too perceptive, and her timing was too perfect. The woman's dark eyes were unreadable, but as she ran toward Scarlet, the look she flashed Scarlet told her to be more cautious in the future. Scarlet nodded and smiled gratefully.
"We have to get him back to the hut," Yu said, moving Miroku to pick him up.
"Ah!" Sango exclaimed, holding up her hand. Yu stopped and looked at her questioningly. "Do you want some help?"
"Not necessary," Yu replied, plucking Miroku off the ground as if he were no more than a leaf. She looked at Scarlet once more. "I'll bring him to the hut. Meet me there." And then she was gone, sprinting toward the house.
Scarlet looked at Sango and found her open-mouthed and gaping. She chuckled softly to herself, and then trotted up the hill to meet Jou.
Ichimu