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Strangled Time
Chapter 21
"Lie her down." Togashimaru said in an only moderately demanding tone as he gestured to the priestess' traveling bed that she'd spread out between himself and the fire—but closer to him—the night before.
"She'd burnin' right up." Saburo replied, keeping his focus on the girl in his arms. He set her gently atop the bedroll, not even bothering to fight with the metal teeth of the contraption that opened it. With a grimace he added, "I shoulda stopped her earlier. She shouldn'ta been out huntin' like this."
The demon planted himself at her bedside to feel the pulse at her neck before fussing over the strands of hair splaying across her warm forehead. He'd never felt such heat from her skin. "Her wound was not so deep. I did not believe that it would have affected her so dramatically." Had it been poisoned? Had she received the wound from his son and not from the branches as she had claimed? No, he would have been able to smell such toxins so close. He trusted the word from her tongue.
"Wound?" The brawny human male sounded confused then his words snipped short. "Ya mean that puny little scratch on her arm? She's got a fever. That's got nothin' to do with it."
As the blacksmith spoke, Togashimaru had delicately unraveled the wrapping from Kagome's forearm to inspect the state of what lie beneath. The man was right. Unlike the red inflammation and infection that he'd expected to find there, the cut seemed, bafflingly, to be perfectly fine. It was healing, albeit extremely slowly compared to what he was accustomed, but still the scab was there. Healthy and normal. Cool and clean.
Then why?
"Fever?" He looked up at Saburo, eyebrows drawn. "From what cause? If there were poison in her blood, I would be aware."
"What cause?" Saburo mocked, incredulity painted his words a ghastly shade of accusation. "She was soppin' wet yesterday and shverin' to th' bone! That probably caught her a cold!"
"A cold?" The dog demon asked with immense patience. The sudden flip of the human man's attitude to such insubordination set him on edge, but for the sake of Kagome, he clenched his jaw and powered through the urge to right the whelp. "Why would the cold manifest as heat?"
Saburo made a sound like a snort before pulling his long hair free from its knot so that he could run his fingers through the locks. "You're kiddin'. You really don't know nothin' 'bout humans, do ya?"
He must have known that his friendship with the little priestess was granting him temporary immunity, to be so bold. Yet, even so, the smith looked away to the trees as he said it.
The click of the General's fangs was audible. "Obviously not enough." He replied, placing a protective arm to the other side of Kagome. The further he leaned, the closer to the other man's nose he became. The space between them was cramped and tense; a face-off between alpha and beta poorly disguised as a conversation with Kagome the unwitting referee. "Inform me."
This time Saburo met his glare straight on.
"Bite my ass."
The dog demon sneered, baring teeth. "Is that a formal request?"
Hackles rose from both parties until the blacksmith spoke low on the wind, straight and stern. "You don't scare me, demon Lord."
And there it was—the animosity that Togashimaru had sensed from him the first time they had met. It simmered beneath the surface like a sea snake lying in wait within the shallow depths of a tidal pool, its venom a pungent old acquaintance from both mortal and demon kind alike.
"If you hate me so vehemently, why aid in saving my life?"
"Hate you?" Saburo scoffed. "I couldn't give a better shit about you."
"So, your only incentive was the girl?"
They were opposing magnets; forces contesting but unable to collide due to the intransigent field between them.
"Why I came along is none o' yer business."
"I'm making it my business."
"Oh? Why bother?"
Togashimaru snarled and grabbed the fabric that hung loosely at the smith's collarbone, claws hovering dangerously close to skin and pulsing artery. "Because I am a nosey bastard who steals the hearts of young human women. Is that not what you are thinking?" Instantly, Saburo's nose crinkled in response, the disgust clear on his features. His assessment had been accurate. With a growl as thick as molasses, the demon pulled the human as close as he could without doing physical harm to either one of them. "Think what ill you will of me, your opinion is of no consequence. But do not for a second believe that I indent to do harm to the girl. I owe her a life debt of which I will never be able to repay in kind. If you continue to insist on withholding information that could further impact Kagome's health, then I will not hesitate to teach you respect.
"You believe me to be weak, boy, but I've more than enough strength within me to bring down a single mortal man, I assure you. Now tell me; how does the cold bring about a fever?"
Saburo stared down Togashimaru's arm in silence for a long, draw out moment, eyebrows low and impossibly knitted together. Then he pursed his lips and shifted his gaze down at Kagome—at her labored breath and the beads of sweat beginning to accumulate atop her hot skin. Moisture that had gathered at the corner of her eye pooled before sliding down her cheek as if it were a tear of pain.
The sight of it shattered both of their hearts into fragments.
Togashimaru released him. Saburo took a breath and straightened the collar of his yukata.
And then he conceded.
"Human bodies are sensitive to sudden changes in temperature." The ruffled human man began, starting his explanation from scratch to the best of his knowledge. "When the body gets too cold too fast, it can catch a sickness called a cold. Ta fight it, th' body heats up. But our bodies don't have nothin' tendin' our fever ta make sure we don't get too hot. And if ya know anythin' about fire, ya know that too much heat can kill a person."
It fell quiet between them for only a moment before Togashimaru asked, "How do you suggest that we combat the fever?"
"We tend the kiln." Saburo replied with a sureness that humored his vocation.
"Yes, but how?"
At that the blacksmith hesitated. He swallowed and glanced towards the direction from which they had traveled—had fled. Togashimaru frowned and followed his gaze toward the traveler's cart path that they had deviated from by a hair to follow in parallel, just to stay on the safe side. More specifically, toward the river.
Water.
They needed water to bring down the fever.
Back to being poised and placid, the General turned to study his newest escort. Calloused fingers hovered awkwardly above the bare forearm of his little human nurse, not daring to touch skin. Anxiety caused the man's musky charcoal scent to be tinged sour. The longer he mulled over the potential journey back down that road, the more jumpy and brittle the blacksmith seemed to become.
Kagome's antics must have been beginning to rub onto him, because Togashimaru was suddenly forced to fight the strongest urge to roll his eyes.
"What is it that you are fretting about?" He asked Saburo in a flat tone. Straightening, Togashimaru fixed his own sash as an excuse to casually look away. "That boy is seeking a human priestess and her demon companion. Not some skittish city craftsman. You would not become a second thought in his mind; no different than a mosquito amongst the brambles."
"I know that." Saburo snipped back at him before picking up his large frame. He fumbled over to the fire pit to snatch the kettle, the untamed and uneven ground still foreign beneath his urban feet. "I'm just tryin' ta remember the way there! Unless youthink you'd be more a help? What do ya say, mighty Lord? Wamma make yerself useful?"
Togashimaru magnanimously let slide the lie, the crass exhortation, and the contemptuous glare without comment. Although, he couldn't help but smirk at the lengths to which the man was willing to go for mockery.
"I believe I shall stay here. At Kagome's side." He practically purred the words in retaliation. "But do return quickly; before this old guard dog grows weary and begins to crave the tender flesh of a virgin heart."
No fire in Edo could have matched the scarlet embers that set the young man's face ablaze at that comment. His grip on the kettle tightened, the other hand forming a tense fist at his other side. Then, without a single word, Saburo spun on his heels and left the little campsite, allowing his anger to evaporate away without resorting to the violence that his posture threatened.
...
She'd been so comfortable before her sleep was disturbed.
The thing that interrupted that rest was cold. It was wet, too. She could feel tiny paths of liquid forming streams down her temples and then growing into small a reservoir at the back of her neck. A puddle accumulated in one ear.
Eventually, she was conscious enough to realize that her rest really hadn't been all that comfortable at all. Her head was pounding, her skin felt cellophane wrapped too tightly around a raw chicken breast in the hot summer sun, and her entire body was sore.
And now, to add to her growing list of complaints, her hair was wet.
She shifted her shoulders to figure out just how sore she was and had to groan at the effort. The answer? Stupidly sore. She was stupidly sore. How in the world did she get so stupidly sore?
A large, warm hand brushed hair behind her ear. The voice that accompanied it was deep and soothing, but she couldn't quite make it out. Her mind was hazy.
She was still so tired.
"Inuyasha?" She croaked, blinking her eyes open.
The arm attached to the hand had a single, wide purple stripe. A claw stroked her cheek before pulling away. They were too long. Not Inuyasha.
When the hand disappeared from her field of vision, she got a glimpse of a clear, star filled sky between the treetops. Then there was silver leaning over her—a reddish orange sort of silver that flickered like candlelight against the fire.
"Toga." She corrected herself with a weak smile. There was an attempt to stretch her arms, to brush his hand, but she found that she barely had enough energy to lift them from the sleeping bag. They plopped right back down beside her. "What happened?"
"You took a swim in a body of water that was nearly frozen, which, as I have been informed, does not agree with the human constitution."
Weakly, she laughed. "I did do something like that, didn't I?"
He hummed. "So now it seems you have fallen to a cold."
"A cold?" She coughed and tried to push herself up from the bed, but Toga pushed her back down with barely a touch to the shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she cursed.
How lame could she be? Here she was the one who was supposed to be looking after him and his well-being, but now their roles were completely reversed. How could she possibly travel like that? She was going to hold them back, and it was all stupid Sesshoumaru's fault. That little brat was going to get a stern reprimanding sometime in the distant future the next time she saw him.
But she didn't have the energy to think about that right then. Pulling her kimono blanket closer, she let her eyes flutter low without closing completely. Her lids were just so darn heavy.
What cruddy timing.
"Sorry Toga." The apology was low and his nickname drifted off towards the end. "I know you want to see her."
The hum he offered again in response was soothing.
She realized then that the reason why she'd felt so comfortable before, despite her ailments, was not simply because she'd been in a deep and restful sleep, but because she felt safe under the careful protection of Toga, despite his ailments.
He had her back, just as she had his, no matter how injured and no matter how tired they both were.
Just how late was it?
The moon was so high in the sky; she could see it peeking its head from the canopy of a pine. Half a moon, but was it waxing or waning? She wasn't keeping track. She would have been keeping track of that in her normal time period, for Inuyasha's sake. But now?
Now that didn't quite matter, did it?
Toga took the washcloth from her forehead, dipped it into the kettle, and once more laid it across her temple without wringing it out.
It was cold, and it was wet. But it felt good.
The silence seemed to stretch and yawn endlessly around them, the trees absorbed as much as they echoed of the forest's dull chatter.
She didn't hear the rabbits foraging for food among the damp, grey grasses.
Neither did she hear the owls taking flight for their nightly patrol.
She did, however, hear perfectly clear when Toga spoke softly the words that would soon enough come to be his undoing.
"She has already waited fifteen years. What harm will a few more days bring?"
End Chapter