Disclaimer: I do not own any of the

main characters within this

fabrication. Their rightful owner

is Rumiko Takahashi. Please support

the official work.

Strangled Time

Chapter 23

"Your human pet has returned."

Kagome looked up from the low burning embers of the fire without lifting her head from her knees.

Clearing her sore throat, she chided, "He's not a pet, Toga."

"Like a pup at your heels." The demon General responded without missing a beat.

Kagome rolled her eyes and pulled closer the layers and layers of kimonos that she'd balled herself up in. "He's been a huge help."

"Of course, he has."

The blacksmith appeared out of the tree line then. With basket in hand he stepped into the flickering orange light of the camp and checked over his shoulder to make sure that the creatures that went bump in the night stayed back there, in the dark. When his eyes met hers, he smiled.

Togashimaru leaned closer to the human priestess and whispered low under his breath. "Eager to please. A pet if I ever saw one."

She snorted. It hurt to laugh, but at the same time it felt really good. Medicine at its finest. "Oh, stop." That was said with a quirked lip. Then, when Saburo was closer she said, "Welcome back. How'd it go?"

Setting the basket down in front of the two like an offering on an alter, the tall human rubbed the three day beard at his jaw line. There was a tinge of regret on his face and embarrassment on his ears, but his grin was stubborn. "Well, the fish weren't bitin,'" He replied woefully before gesturing to the spoils of his harvest. "So I found what I could. Now, I know it ain't much…"

"Every little bit helps." Kagome told him in earnest. Honestly, it was very kind of him. He kept going above and beyond when he really had no reason to. "Thanks for doing this, it means a lo—woah, woah, woah!" She cut off abruptly when she saw the dog demon beside her pick up a peculiar looking sprig from the basket and bring its fruit to his lips. After a short coughing fit, she continued, "Don't eat those! They'll make you sick if you don't cook them first!"

Togashimaru paused to spin the branch between two fingers, the little purple-black berries danced like bells, clinging to the umbrella framework of their blossom. "Are they, for humans? That's a shame; they have mild flavor that is quite pleasant."

"Toga, drop it." She demanded, her voice growing louder than it'd been in days. She was so focused that she lost her grip on the kimonos and her nest of blankets fell away from her shoulders. It was cold. When he didn't comply, she scrambled forward, awkwardly over the fabrics, and snatched it from his loose grip. Then she chucked the wild berry cluster as far away from them as she could while he snickered. Unfortunately, because of its shape and how light it was, it barely made it as far as the wood pile. "We can't take any chances right now! Not in your condition. Demon or not, they're poisonous. If you could handle them before, that's one thing, but that doesn't mean that they won't affect you now. You're still healing; your body isn't strong yet. And the last thing we need is for you to be rolling about with gut rot, on top of everything else you've got going on. You'd make me miserable, and I'm already miserable." She stopped to take a series of deep breaths and found she couldn't continue her tirade when she turned back to him. "What?"

Kagome stared at the amusingly constipated look on the General's face. There was no way it would have affected him that quickly. Give it an hour, at least, then maybe he'd be feeling it.

As if reading her mind, Togashimaru gave a humorless huff. He hadn't even eaten any. Subtly, he raised his chin to gesture over her shoulder. She turned to follow his gaze. "Oh…" She vocalized her horror. Then again, "Oh. Saburo… You didn't."

Standing rigid, the smith had turned as pale as a banshee. He looked into his hand, down at the basket, and then back at the Priestess. His eyes were round. The tips of his calloused fingers were stained purple.

He gulped.

"Am I… gonna die, Miss Kagome?"

…

"Tell me, mighty hunter." Togashimary prodded only after Kagome had fallen into a deep sleep and Saburo returned from being sick in the woods for the fourth time since. "How is it that, of the many things you scavenged, not a single one of them was safe for human consumption? Is it a death wish you have?"

"Bugger off." Saburo groaned in reply. His eyes were closed, but there was no way he was going to be able to see any sleep that night, not with his stomach rolling like the unholy cistern it was. "I'm not listenin' to you."

"And what of the fish? The rabbit? Did you not promise our dear priestess that you were capable of providing meat?"

As a response, the blacksmith turned on his side to face away from the haughty voice of the injured dog demon—his back was a poor barrier to sound. He had to count his breaths to keep his temper from rising to the obvious bait. One, two, three…

"You lied to her. But to what end? Were you so starved for attention that ailment was the only way to win a woman's affection? Her pity?"

Four, five, six…

"Had you grown so jealous as to lose all self respect?"

He didn't make it to seven. Saburo shot up from his bed of earth to spit in the face of the devil, but nausea gripped him hard. He choked, hand clutched to his mouth, supporting arm shaking beneath his weight. Loose hair spilled around him like ink. Chaotic black fireflies danced in his vision.

Then he stabilized, successfully holding back the acid in his empty stomach.

He looked up at Togashimaru with a blackened glare, full of malice despite his prone form.

"What sorta man would be jealous of a beast like you?"

"Ah, so you did not bite off your tongue. I was worried."

"I tried to catch somethin.'" The human man hissed, loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire but not loud enough to wake Kagome. "She made it look easy, so I thought I could do it without a big issue. But I ain't no hunter, I'm a blacksmith. Doin' that I make decent money—enough that I don't hafta go out to the woods fer my food. Excuse me for not needin' to live off the land, but at least I tried—Instead of sittin' on my ass, bein' doted on hand and foot, like somebody 'round here."

Togashimaru ignored the snide jab. Instead he crossed one leg over the other and looked up to the stars, shining brightly on that cloudless night.

"That is the one of the largest differences between demons and humans, wouldn't you agree?" He asked the sky, not expecting an answer from the man. "With a little bit of money and power, humans grow complacent—they lose their natural survival instincts. Classifications of wealth are tightly tied with your reliance on the work and service of others. Demons, on the other hand, suffer no such loss. Be them mongrel, blacksmith, or lord, a demon's survival and respectability is determined by their success in solitude."

Togashimaru paused, thinking of the codependence of human nobles—of Izayoi specifically. Without a benefactor and champion, she would likely not survive a single night alone in the forest, as she'd been raised so softly. "In some humans I've found this trait to be endearing. But in most it is infuriating; the weakness of man. It is what causes them to resort to trickery and insult instead of facing their opponent on fair ground. They send armies of poorly trained men to do their bidding because they themselves are too weak."

A scoff, too quick to be made from amusement, came from the blacksmith. Saburo cleared his throat before spitting away sour phlegm and slumping over to lay flat on his back. He had to close his eyes to keep the pinpricks of light from swirling dizzily above.

"You're such a hypocrite." He scolded. It came out as more groan than sentence.

"Oh?"

"If demon's don't gotta rely on others, then why are ya here? Miss Kagome's been takin' care of ya and feedin' ya for weeks. Without her you wouldn't get damn near to the river on yer own. You talk big, but if there's anyone here who's desperate and dependin' on someone else's help ta survive, it's you."

The General chuckled. "Says the man who ate the dogwood berries."

Saburo went a fascinating shade of red tinged with green. He pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on not spewing his guts at the reminder. He was too weak to get up.

"Ya know what?" He said when he could breathe again. "That's fair. I won't be arguin' that."

Togashimaru smirked at the man's admission of defeat. Then his humor fell to a frown, somber and thoughtful.

No, he wasn't a hypocrite. It wasn't money or power that led him to that insufferably weak position Love was a motive worthy of sacrifice, even for a demon. At least, he believed it to be so. Kagome believed it as well. But the dog had a feeling that Saburo wasn't going to be as keen on believing that love could be forged between a human and a demon.

He'd been willing to sacrifice his life, name, and power for a single, wonderful, human woman. So delicate and fair, he'd walk to the ends of the earth to protect her from harm. It was only by chance that he'd been granted the opportunity to find her one last time.

And Saburo? He was a pup jumping in the ocean to follow the frolicking of a mermaid, only he'd forgotten that he did not know how to swim.

"Then, it seems, we are both helpless fools." Togashimaru said.

And he hoped that to be the truth.

Lest their situation become even more complicated.

…

That yellow backpack, old and tattered as it was, was such a good bag. The spandex in its cotton weave gave it a stretch that allowed for it to be overstuffed and abused time and time again, and still it held her valuables safe. Sure, it wasn't exactly waterproof, so it still had its drawbacks. But her first aid kit was!

Kagome clicked down the latches that sealed the rubber around the plastic edges of the little box and began to rummage. Supplies were low—bandages were absent entirely, the wrapping kind, not the sticky boo-boo kind—but there were still quite a few odds and ends that had the potential of being useful. She moved aside the sunscreen and bacterial ointment before searching through the sea of cotton balls that she never seemed to be able to make a dent in and—aha!

The bottle of antacids was larger than she remembered it being, and a test shake told her that it was practically full. That was weird. She could have sworn that Miroku had almost used them all up on her.

The time traveler opened the child safety cap to inspect her spoils.

The bottle was new, paper seal and all. On the seal was a little heart, drawn in red magic marker.

She smiled gently, almost sadly, before carefully resealing the cap. "Thanks mom." She whispered to the wind. "I'm sure Saburo will thank you, too."

Then, just as she was packing back in her mass of cotton balls, another bottle caught her eye. Smaller, dark blue, buried in balls. A bottle that normally lived its life on the top platform, not at the very bottom, hidden in the backmost corner.

It must have been shuffled around when Togashimaru had his little snooping session.

Joy filled her. Kagome pulled the painkiller and fever reducer out and touched it to her warm forehead. Then she held it up to the light and shook it to make sure that there were still pills left inside. There were. She could have cried.

Instead of crying tears of delight and relief, her temper turned the opposite.

With a shriek of frustration, Kagome threw the bottle down on her sleeping bag.

"Where were you three days ago!?" She demanded of the inanimate object lying helplessly on its side. "I needed you!"

Next to her, Togashimaru's expression grew concerned.

"Has this particular container wronged you?"

"Yes." She hissed, crossing her arms. "As far as I'm concerned, the Bufferin is dead to me."

Even so, dead to her as it was, Kagome still poured herself a cup of water and took her vengeance by consuming two of the pills within.

End Chapter