Shikuro: A Caribbean Fairy Tale

by Inuma Asahi De

Inuyasha was as bad as pirates came, according to his legend. Kagome was a woman of propriety, destined to marry for her family's honor when all she wanted was to live on the sea. What happens when their eyes meet by chance or perhaps by daring fate?

42. Failures

Blanket Disclaimer: The writer does not own any characters created by Rumiko Takahashi but like everyone else wishes she did. All original characters or concepts are the author's Inuma Asahi De's (with the exception of historical figures).

**Once again, in the process of editing. Expect grammar, syntax, and overall spelling changes throughout the next week. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 42

Failures

A small light flickered on the desk of the Quartermaster of the ship Shikuro, the flame of the candle jumping and dancing as it was pushed and pulled with the natural sway of the ship. The action was taunting and childish in the deep night but also soft and relaxing—almost contemplative. Cast in the shadow of that light was the hand of none other than the Quartermaster himself, Master Miroku, who—in haste—was scribbling a series of unidentifiable characters down on a sheet of cluttered parchment. His dark eyes staring at those characters as he mumbled their name vaguely over and over again, absently trying to memorize how to make them as well as how to pronounce them.

"Suru," He mumbled as he dipped his quill in the ink well, coating it in the black substance before returning it to the parchment. "To do," He added carelessly as he wrote the character again in kanji する, "Suru—to do."

Beside him, Inuyasha looked on only halfway paying attention to his son as he worked his way through his forth Japanese lesson. Today, they were focusing on verbs commonly used in everyday conversation. The eight forms of the verb suru—to do—being their primary focus. So far Miroku had only made it through the first form but Inuyasha was certain he would be able to get through all eight tonight as well as use them in a few sentences to understand their different purposes. It was only a matter of focusing on the task at hand—something Inuyasha was actually having a hard time doing as of late.

Truthfully, his mind was anything but with Miroku on the Shikuro, he was focused on the storm outside, the storm that was supposed to be horrible and destructive but had turned out to be nothing more than a light rain with angry clouds backing it mockingly. It was a realization that had ticked Inuyasha off to no end.

"Damn it." Inuyasha closed his eyes tightly, anger welling inside of him.

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe himself: he had been wrong, extremely, exceedingly, very wrong. He, the man known for being able to read the ocean like one read the back of their hand, had completely misjudged the situation; he had utterly misjudged it. And that pissed him off unbelievably because once again he had made the wrong call, he had failed himself, his crew, his family—he had failed them all.

"How did I—," He thought to himself as he leaned his chair back on two legs absentmindedly. "How did I miss the signs?" He sighed deeply at the thought. "This isn't a storm, it's barely a shower." He growled low in his throat so as to not distract Miroku and crossed his arms even tighter over his chest as he leaned back dangerously in his chair, holding his body at a dramatic tilt that a normal human wouldn't have been able to balance.

A part of him argued that the storm outside was subdued because they had retreated to the safety of the bay. After all, storms slow down when they cross land and following that train of thought, Inuyasha had acted as any Captain would have. His quick thinking of hiding in the bay had resulted in them saving the ship from another fiery massacre. Yes, the storms power and subsequent wimpiness could be completely contributed to his quick thinking, right? No—Inuyasha wasn't stupid. The other part of him, the logical part, the experienced part, knew better; it knew that he was lying to himself. If it had been a powerful storm, moving into the bay would not have lessened it this much. No, the storm was weak to begin with—that was certain.

"Shit," He thought as self deprecating thoughts hit him once again. "How the hell did I miss it? What the hell is wrong with me?" He uncrossed his arms and let them drop down dangling on either side of the chair as he propped a foot up against the tables lip, using it to rock himself lightly back and forth on the two chair legs. "I've never misjudged a storm in sixty years." He told himself as he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling as if trying to find an answer in its wooden surface. "Not once. I always call it right, why didn't I fucking call it right?"

He inhaled hastily as the question filled him while he tried desperately to find his answer. Why hadn't he seen it coming, he always knew, he was trained so well to read the weather—his Captain, the man who had taught him all those years ago, had been good but he was noted for being better—so why, or what, or how, had he missed it this time? Looking back on it in hindsight he could explain everything that had first given him pause:

The wind? He was around the Florida Key Islands, the wind was always awkward around the Keys as it pushed through the Island chain and then up the coast where the wind direction was different anyway. The pull on the helm when Myoga was guiding the ship? The man was small, very small—enough said. The pull on the helm when he held it? He had turned into the current, of course there would be a pull on the helm; he would be an idiot not to realize that the pull had been from trying to keep the boat on a cross current when the wind was already blowing slightly faster than normal. And the clouds? If he would have looked, he would have noticed that while the color was angry, the build was rather normal. They weren't spiraling, they hadn't looked anything like typical hurricane clouds or even the clouds of a dangerous tropical storm, they had just looked like rain clouds; normal if not heavy with water.

So why hadn't he noticed all of those things then? What had stopped him? What had made him misjudge? What had distracted him, pushed him, changed his opinion on simply rain clouds and made them into hurricanes? If he really thought about it, allowed the truth to enter his conscious mind that is, he already knew. "I did it because—I—I wanted—I had to prov—."

Inuyasha sighed low and deep as he allowed the chair quietly back onto four legs with ease. Slowly, he propped his elbows on the table leaning forward, even his ears drooping as he fought the urge to think and complete his thought. Carefully, he let his arms cross and them spread over the desk completely as he lowered his head, resting his chin on top of his crisscrossed arms.

"I over reacted." He forced himself to admit just that much as he took a deep breath, his eyes drawn to the candle watching it dance absently. "I let me feelings get in the way of what I—of what I saw." He vaguely noticed a tilt in the ship as a wave brushed her side, the candle flickering from the action, the sound of a hiss from the flame barely registering in his preoccupied mind. "I completely over reacted because—." He closed his eyes and refused to admit it, his reason, he wouldn't admit it not even to himself. And the worst part was, he didn't even know why. Why couldn't he admit it, why couldn't he just say what had made him react that way—why?

He knew the answer to that to.

"Otou-san?"

Miroku's voice made his head snap back up, his crisscrossed arms still slightly resting on the table as he took in Miroku's raised eyebrow. "What?" He bluntly asked, completely unaware of the parchment Miroku was clearly holding up for him to see.

"I'm—um—finished," Miroku drew out slowly, giving his father a look that seemed to say 'I know something's not quite right with you' but he didn't say anything, only pointed at the paper with his thumb. "What's the next variation of suru?"

"A—," Inuyasha glanced at the parchment taking in the neat lines of characters Miroku had written. "Suru." He mumbled to himself vaguely as his mind raced and he tried desperately to remember. "Aaa—well—," He brought one hand to his forehead rubbing it, his eyes still staring at the parchment as if it had grown arms and legs suddenly and was walking about the cabin. "Um—give me a second I—just a sec."

Miroku frowned deeply at the odd behavior but waited patiently for Inuyasha to gather his thoughts. "It's probably just been a while since he's thought of the variations." He reasoned lightly as he watched his father stare at the parchment with tense golden eyes. "Yeah—he just needs a moment." He tried to nod to himself for further reassurance but found the gesture oddly lacking. There was something strange about his father tonight. Ever sense Myoga had awoken him in the dead of night over a little rain storm something had seemed off.

At first, he had figured it was because the storm was particularly nasty (at least that's how Myoga had first described it) but then he had come out on deck and seen the storm first hand. Although, he didn't have as much experience as his father he knew when a storm looked dangerous verses was dangerous and this one had the look but didn't have the feel. Within fifteen minutes, however, the whole of the ship had been awakened and they had started the rowers at their stations. With the rowers in place, reaching the bay hadn't been a problem and they had been able to find a prime and safe location to bunker down for the duration of the storm.

Even by that point, however, it had been obvious that the move was unnecessary. The bay was calm, virtually stable even with the rain. The wind—although pretty strong was nowhere near unmanageable and with their anchor in place no one even needed to man the helm except to keep an eye on the tied down wheel to make sure the rope didn't break (a job that Myoga and Totosai were currently handling together, mainly so one wasn't lonely during the wet and dark night).

Still, Miroku hadn't said a word about it, merely commented that since the storm looked manageable it might be nice to use the free time for a language lesson. Inuyasha had agreed with barely any comment, only a shrug of his shoulders, and after sending Sango to sleep in the Captain's Cabin since she was already awake and Kagome wasn't, they had got to work. But since they had sat down, the Captain had been noticeably distracted fumbling through the lesson and huffing and muttering as he sat.

All in all, that was pretty normal for the Captain (muttering and huffing and being grumpy), however, Miroku could tell that there was something off. It was not the fact his father was huffing and muttering but the fact he was doing it with such malice in his movements. There was anger there and purpose, it wasn't just him being impatient this time.

Miroku glanced at Inuyasha watching as the man scribbled something on the parchment as if hoping that writing it out would help him but it didn't seem to be working. "Something's wrong."

Inuyasha growled lightly and threw the quill down on the table as he continued to stare at the parchment, his mind racing as he tried to remember the next character in the 'suru' sequence. No matter how hard he tried, though, it seemed to evade him staying just on the tip of his tongue, the idea brushing his mind so lightly that he couldn't seem to conjure it—it was lost to him. He groaned and closed his eyes, hoping he would be able to think more clearly without the parchment mocking him as he thought. "Suru," He allowed the word to echo in his mind but the only thing that really came to him as he did was the rude form of the word—Shiro. He grunted and without even thinking lowered his head to the desk and banged it on the table a few times.

"Otou-san!" Miroku groused as he reached forward pulling the man away from the table. "You'll break it if you hit your head on it." He chastised as he pushed the Captain back in his chair harshly.

Inuyasha merely snorted and leaned his head backwards to look at the ceiling as he had earlier. "Good to know you're more worried about the table than me." He grumbled and eyed the table, giving it a slight glare.

"Well the table breaks," Miroku grumbled as he inspected the wooden surface, noting that it was not cracked but there was a slight dent in the furniture caused by just the few head buts it had received. "Your head on the other hand is much too hard ta break."

"Hard as in tough or hard as in stubborn?" The Captain tried to joke but his voice held no humor, it was stiff and dark and very tired sounding—something not normal from the usually exuberant (lively) man.

The sound of it alone drew Miroku's full attention and he eyed the older man licking his lips, preparing to poke the bear, so to speak. "Otou-san." He mumbled faintly trying to make his father look him in the eye, it was useless, Inuyasha didn't even move. "What's wrong?" He asked, not afraid to ask the question but paranoid about the answer. "You've been—well sort of—off—all night."

Inuyasha mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like bastard as he leaned back in his chair pushing it into two legs again before dropping it back to four with a long sigh. Leisurely, he brought his hands up to his face rubbing over his eyes with his palms as he took a few deep breaths. "I'm losing my touch Miroku." He said finally after some minutes of collecting himself.

Miroku furrowed his brows and turned slightly in his chair, afraid he had heard wrong. "What?"

"The storm," Inuyasha threw his hands up in the air as anger welled within him once again. "I didn't see it coming and then I totally blew it out of proportion." He stood, the hasty action knocking his chair to the ground loudly as he started to pace the room. "I have never—ever—in sixty years done that!"

"Otou-san—," Miroku tried again but was instantly cut off by the Captain's growl.

"Fucking storm." Inuyasha snarled as he moved towards the single window in Miroku's cabin, his golden eyes staring outwards at the somewhat heavy rain as he brought both his hands to the windowsill, leaning on it. "Fucking storm, hell that's the worst example of a storm," He stressed the word as he pointed out at the mostly calm see. Of course it was raining, quiet extensively even, but the sea itself was relatively calm at the moment, the waves only swelling intermittently at best. "That I've seen in ages." He pushed himself away from the window and waved his hands at it to reiterate his point. "Hell it's not even a storm, it's—like—someone's spitting on us."

"Spitting?" Miroku repeated with a raised eyebrow as he watched his father rant.

"Yes," Inuyasha nodded having finally heard his son. "You know compared to a bucket of water being dumped on your head, this storm," He turned and looked at Miroku one clawed finger pointing at the window. "Is someone spitting on you."

"A bucket—and spit." Miroku tried very hard not to laugh at the horrible metaphor, his face clearly showing his amusement. "Even your metaphors are pretty bad today."

Inuyasha growled biting his thumb-claw absently as he turned around grumbling. "Fuck off."

"Okay—I'll bite." Miroku commented with a frown at the sound of the Captain's voice. It wasn't playful at all, it wasn't amused at all, it was almost pained, distracted, it was more than just his father letting off steam, something was deeply troubling the man. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Inuyasha blinked slowly but didn't turn around to look at Miroku, he knew better. Miroku knew him too well, if he turned and Miroku saw his face then he would truly know that something really was—off had been the word he used—with him today. "Nothing." He answered shortly, his eyes looking out at the example of his failures, his many failures—his most recent and biggest failure—

"Bull." Miroku said without preamble as he stood and reached for the chair that had fallen setting it back up right without any real thought.

"Nothing is wrong," Inuyasha stuck to his guns, his gold eyes looking at the storm still, taking in the soft rain with nothing short of hatred.

"There has to be—."

"I'm just mad Miroku that's all." He cut him off quickly before the boy could truly dig and hit a nerve. "I don't like wasting time and energy on a stupid fucking spitting contest." He groaned and shook his head slightly back and forth. "If I had just paid attention and done my job well we wouldn't be here wasting time while a little bitty shower passes." He finished, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Miroku raised an eyebrow, he knew it was more than that. His Captain wasn't one to sweat the small stuff, like misjudging the ferocity of a storm. No—normally Inuyasha would have simply shrugged it off and said that he had at least done his job in keeping everybody safe but now—he was acting as if he had done some great atrocity by simply wasting a little bit of time and energy. Time and energy that no one on the ship would ever really miss to begin with. "Yeah." He nodded his head. "It had to be more than just the storm. Something else is going on here."

"I mean the other one I missed—," Inuyasha continued on as if he was talking to himself. "Well that wasn't as big a deal—the hurricane, it just snuck up on us in the middle of the night." He reasoned but didn't sound too convinced.

Miroku stepped forward slightly, keeping his distance for the most part but attempting to get just a little closer, to add any ounce of reassurance he could. "So did this one." He told his father with a calm passive voice. "I didn't even know it was raining till Myoga came and got me, you only knew because you happened to wake up and smell rain."

"I know but—," The Captain crossed his arms and frowned deeply, his eyes focused, intense and offensive. "I knew the hurricane when I saw it—," He stated darkly. "I knew it would be bad the moment the sails moved from its wind, hell, before that when the lightening was striking, I knew." He looked down at the ground. "This time, I thought I knew—," He paused and dropped his hands once again, letting them dangle as he looked outside at the storm. "And then it turned out I—fuck—I jumped the gun."

"Better safe than sorry." Miroku offered as he watched his father start to pace again.

Inuyasha didn't reply at first, merely shrugged his tight shoulders, the muscles drawing taunt as he tried hard not to just up and punch something. "That's not the point." He ground out as his stressed body grew tighter and tighter, his muscles so tense that Miroku could actually see them through the slight cotton shirt his father was wearing, his wet jacket hanging from a peg on the wall not too far away drying.

Cautiously, Miroku took a step back. He knew that Inuyasha was not really the person who lashed out at other people when it came to dealing with his own anger (especially his own son) but he also knew his father had a temper, and when that temper flared he had a habit of lashing out at the nearest possible object and on occasion, the nearest object had been known to be human. Taking a deep breath, he scratched the back of his head before planting his hands on his waist as he forced himself to press further. "Then what is the point?"

Inuyasha stopped pacing at Miroku's words, his body still tight and tense and taunt as his mind raced. What was the point, why was he so angry, yes he had misjudged a storm it happens and he had a pretty good record, one in the history of his time as a captain—those were pretty good odds. So why—why was he so angry.

"Stop lying to yourself." A small voice whispered in the back of his head. "You know why—you wanted to prove something—," It continued loud in his quiet mind, "You wanted this storm to be bad so you could prove something to yourself—to her." Inuyasha growled low in his throat wanting the voice to shut up—to leave him the fuck alone but it didn't—it's hard to ignore yourself when you know you're right. "You're angry because you know you misjudged the storm on purpose; whether subconscious or not, you let yourself say it was bigger than it was so you could prove that you could protec—."

"Otou-san," Miroku said softly cutting off the small voice in Inuyasha's head as he watched Inuyasha's demeanor start to change, his body was less tense and his eyes were less crazed more subdued and unfocused, almost lost. "If you're not just angry about the whole misjudging a stupid storm thing," He motioned outside with just his head. "Then what are you really angry about?"

"Nothing." Inuyasha tried to push the thought away now that it had been interrupted by his son, while at the same time trying to consciously push his son away as well. Deep down he knew what that voice wanted to say and he knew that he could never tell Miroku the truth behind his anger because if he did, he would have to admit his greatest failure.

Miroku sighed heavily and walked back over to the desk without a second thought, throwing himself down in his chair easily, huffing as he slumped and stared at the parchment absently, watching as the quill slowly leaked ink onto the parchment where it had been unceremoniously left by Inuyasha ten minutes before. "You've been really—distracted lately since—well—since we met with Miss Kaede." He started absently as he reached for the abandoned quill and put it back in its spot by the inkwell. "I can't say I blame you though."

Inuyasha froze at the composed words, the voice of his son actually penetrating his mind enough to cool off his irrational soul a little. Miroku had always had that ability though, since he was a little boy—he was calm and collected and sometimes that calmness rubbed off on Inuyasha whether he wanted it to or not. Huffing the older man uncrossed his arms and allowed himself (forced himself really) to listen to his boy.

"You've taken a lot on recently, the jewel, searching for it, memories of the past." He let the last comment go by quickly, not wanting to mention the name of the unmentionable girl, a woman he knew almost nothing about. Slowly, he turned his eyes towards the Captain, wanting to see the reaction first hand as he allowed the last word to leave his lips. "Miss Kagome."

The name instantly made Inuyasha's ears lower, an action Miroku didn't miss. The Captain of the Shikuro turned away again, his expression tired. "Miroku—." He started to say but it was Miroku's turn now to cut him off.

"It must be a lot of work protecting someone who knows nothing of weaponry." The young man went on as he leaned back in his chair, mimicking the Captain's favorite two legged position. "You've been kind of on edge because of it, I think." He continued referring to the incidents he was aware of when Inuyasha had attacked random drunks or even pirates such as Manten on Kagome's behalf.

"You don't know the half of it." Inuyasha whispered, although primarily to himself as he stared at the flickering candle on his desk once again, trying his best to ignore the incident Miroku wasn't aware of.

He hadn't told him the whole story yet of his time with Jinenji and his mother. He had told him of the shard and that Jinenji was a half demon. He had even told him about getting shot and the fact he had been human when it had happened (a story that had made Miroku turn white as a sheet although he hadn't commented, he knew better than to tell Inuyasha not to fight when someone needed to be protected), he had even gone so far as to tell Miroku that Kagome had seen him in his human form and was thus aware of his deepest (known) secret but—he had purposefully left the biggest part of the story out:

He hadn't told him that Kagome had died and as far as Inuyasha knew Kagome hadn't told a soul either. Well then again, he wasn't sure if Kagome actually knew how close she had come to death. He hadn't mentioned it to her or discussed it with her—he wondered if she even remembered.

"Otou-san" Miroku began his voice hushed in the quiet cabin, the sound of the rain the only noise to really hit the room. "You're not telling me something, are you?" Miroku whispered his question sudden, surprising Inuyasha enough to make the older man look up his emotions unguarded for a section and just blunt enough that Miroku knew he was right. Setting down his quill completely and closing off the ink well, Miroku deliberately turned his chair and looked at his father, his eyes intense and alert. "What happened? No bull shit—just—tell me what happened."

Inuyasha didn't say anything for a moment, he actually looked a little lost as he stared at Miroku, contemplating internally what he should do. He trusted Miroku more than anyone on this earth. Miroku was his dearest friend, his closest family member, Miroku was the child he had raised, the child he had comforted during dreams and harsh realities, he was his confidant, his conscious, the only person (besides Kagome and Sango) who he ever really listened to and respected. He had taught him everything, everything he knew, he had trusted him with secrets he had never trusted anyone with before—except those who had always known like Myoga and Totosai.

So why now? Why was he looking at Miroku and thinking to himself, "I can't tell him." He couldn't not as he looked at that boy, seeing the small child with the tin cup in a dirty London street, he just couldn't because of that very sight.

"Otou-san?" Miroku whispered when Inuyasha said nothing after several minutes. "Why can't you tell me?"

Inuyasha looked away from Miroku, he didn't make eye contact, he actually ignored him as the questioned buzzed in his head. "Why?" The word seemed to echo. "Why can't I tell him, he's my son." But that was the problem and Inuyasha knew it. He couldn't let his son know that he had failed, that he wasn't perfect, that he had let someone innocent die. He couldn't let his son know that he wasn't the great man Miroku thought him to be.

"Captain that was amazing!" A young Miroku yelled his bright black eyes lit up with delight as Inuyasha set the boy down on his feet.

They had just finished working on some of the rigging together and instead of climbing down like normal people, Inuyasha had decided it would be quicker (and a lot more fun) to simply jump down. The boy had shrieked at first, the sound making the men around them curse and grumble while making the young Captain smile. But now, on the ground the boy seemed enthused, his young eyes practically begging to experience the fifty foot jump once again. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"You have no idea ser!" Miroku cheered as his small arms pumped in the air delighted. "You have to be the only man," He told the Captain his voice rushed, his words coming off his tongue at a mile a minute as he ran circles around the older man, jumping up and down with enthusiasm. "In the world who can do that."

"Naw," Inuyasha chuckled his eyes softening for just a second as he started to walk back to his cabin, the young boy in tow. "There's bound to be hundreds more who can do something as simple as that."

"Oh no," Miroku said adamantly as he came to stand in front of Inuyasha as they reached the larger man's cabin door. "Nobody's as great as you." The boy said firmly with a stiff nod of his head.

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow at the boy and reached for the doorknob pushing it opened and motioning for the small child to follow. "Nobody's as great as me, huh?" He muttered as his mind drifted elsewhere to the charts on his desk. "That's impossible, somebody's got'ta be better."

"No way," Miroku chuckled as he spoke behind Inuyasha causing the Captain to pause and turn around to look at the small boy.

"Hm?"

Miroku smiled wildly, showing off where he was missing a baby tooth. "Come on Captain!" He exclaimed, giving the man a look of pure admiration. "You're perfect!"

Inuyasha buried his head in his hands as the memory faded and he felt sick to his stomach. "You're perfect," He repeated the young Miroku's words if only in his head and sighed. "Yeah—I'm as perfect as they come and ain't nobody perfect."

"Captain?"

Inuyasha frowned at the word.

"I don't know what's wrong with you—I'm not even gon'na venture to guess, but whatever it is—when you're ready," Miroku stood up his expression tight as he turned his back on his father, remembering from experience that dog demons considered the gesture the ultimate form of punishment. "I hope you'll talk to your son because I want'a listen."

Inuyasha growled and sighed heavily his eyes focused on Miroku's back. He knew what Miroku was attempting to do with the gesture but he bluntly ignored it, turning his own back on the boy in defiance as he shook his head back and forth. "It's not that simple, Miroku."

"What the fuck!" Miroku whirled around his eyes blazing. Something about Inuyasha words seemed to have broken any form of self control Miroku had in that moment. He inhaled sharply, his dark eyes gleamed with anger and he clutched his fist tightly at his sides. "In the ten—damn it—eleven years you've known me ," He pointed his finger at himself. "You've never shut me out, you always tell me everything—everything!" Miroku thrust his finger in Inuyasha's direction, his face blazing with fury. "I don't know what's so fucking different now but—I don't care about what's changed because one thing hasn't—you're still my father and I'm still your son." Miroku growled, the imitation of Inuyasha spot on. "And we're at the point in this father, son," He motioned back and forth between them harshly. "Relationship where you're supposed to tell me if you have a fucking problem so I can help you." He clenched his jaw shut tight before letting out a mirthless laugh. "Fuck when I was twelve we could do that!" Miroku fired in the Captain's face.

"Aa—," Inuyasha felt his mind go on overdrive listening to Miroku's words. In the whole of eleven years Miroku had only truly yelled at him a few times. Each time had ended in a screaming match between the two—a father and son fighting amongst themselves—but this time seemed different. He couldn't bring himself to yell, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. All he could think was—, "I deserve this."

"I mean come on, I'm not stupid," The younger man threw his hands up in the air exasperated. "Stop trying to deny that something's not wrong. I know you, something's bothering you and it has been for days, weeks, since we left Kaede—no," Miroku seemed to lose stream for a moment as he brought his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple absently, inhaling deeply through his nose to control his erratic breathing. "No, before then." He growled and looked Inuyasha directly in the eye, daring his father to say a word against his rant "Since we took on Miss Kagome.

"Mirok—."

"It has something to do with her doesn't it?" He cut off the Captain quickly. "What did you two do while you were gone?" Miroku questioned, hundreds of scenarios running through his head, horrible ones, ones he shouldn't thought of. "I noticed you were kind of stand offish with her before you left—lots of tension between the two of you." He licked his lips, his eyes searching Inuyasha's face, hoping he wasn't right but his gut telling him that something—horrible, the worst possible thing had happened and there was only one worst possible thing he could think of. "And when you came back you two were close." Miroku drew on the last word making it sound almost more sarcastic than it had been intended to be. "But you were still holding her at a fucking distance, like she was one of your girls."

"Hey back off—," Inuyasha tried to interject his voice starting to grow some confidence again but Miroku was on a role.

"Did you kiss or something," The younger man pressed on, his eyes blazing a part of him feeling deathly protective over Kagome and her well being—a part of him seeing that girl on Port Royal who was crying over the man who had kissed her—the married man. Of course, that man wasn't married now but she was still so young and innocent and naive. He wanted to protect that, like a brother does his younger sister. He closed his eyes for a moment, processing, hoping his worries were unfound, hoping that the Captain had not done something he couldn't take back. "Or was it worst than that—," He shook his head glaring at the older man. "Did you sleep with her?" His voice was eerily calm and dark. "Is that why you can't tell me because you know I'd kick your ass."

Inuyasha didn't say anything, mostly because he couldn't think of anything to say. Something inside of him was near snapping, he could feel it boiling under his skin as Miroku accused him. He couldn't believe his ears, couldn't believe Miroku's words, the demon in him was snarling—it wanted to be let out, it wanted to put its son back in his place. But the human—the human wouldn't let that happen, the human was trying to understand where Miroku was coming from—but it was slowly failing as well. Even human's had pride

"Yeah," Miroku inhaled sharply once again, taking the silence as an admission of guilt. "That's probably it, you went and rutted her," The rude term made Inuyasha head shoot up and his eyes widen as his heart stopped in his chest at the very thought of doing something like that to Kagome. "You fucking fucked her, you son of a bitch." Miroku's voice sounded accusing but also was filled with disbelief as if he couldn't even fathom the man in front of him doing such a thing.

Inuyasha blinked a few times, his mind trying to catch up with what Miroku was saying, what he was accusing. The demon in him saw red, the human in him tried desperately to keep it under control. "You don't—." He tried to say but Miroku stopped him before he could.

"You did! You fucking did, you bastard." Miroku spat as he slammed his hand into the desk, his eyes filled with such anger and animosity that Inuyasha felt his skin crawl.

"I didn't!" Inuyasha threw back in return, his voice officially snarling as his eyes tinted red and he bared his fangs. The human in him desperately tried to control his psyche, begging him to keep just an ounce of control for the sake of his stupid pup's life. "I didn't fucking do a thing to—I—damn it," He stumbled, the demon in him seemed to back off as if it felt ashamed at its own words, it knew that was a lie.

"Damn it, I know when you're lying." Miroku threw back in his face, as he turned and paced the room, clutching his fist tightly—confused and unsure of what to do. "You're a horrible liar."

"God fucking—damn it Miroku, listen to me!" Inuyasha yelled, screamed, the sound of his voice echoing throughout the ship—probably heard by all of the crew who were awake (although hat couldn't be many) and awakening those who were asleep.

"No—," Miroku roared back. "I understand why you didn't want me to know—you've always been the greatest man I've ever known—." Miroku's eyes actually looked pained as he spoke. "I thought you were better than this—way better—."

"She died!" Inuyasha snarled before Miroku finished his sentence, the sound loud in the small cabin, probably loud in the whole ship and then deafeningly quiet as Miroku's expression went from complete astonishment to utter disbelief. Both men were quiet, the sound of panting breath from both of them the only sound in the room as they slowly came to see eye to eye. Gold met black and shocked met shocked as both men froze, unprepared in two very different ways for what was about to be said. "I didn't—," Inuyasha's voice was loud in the quiet room even though it barely came out a whisper. "I didn't have sex with her—," He went on much more quietly as he slumped his shoulders hunching in exhaustion where he stood. "She died."

Miroku's mouth hung opened and his eyes grew huge as a great guilt formed in his heart but also a great amount of confusion. "What?"

"She died." Inuyasha repeated his eyes wide as if he even didn't believe the words he had spoken.

Miroku shook his head in disbelief, his eyes wider than tea saucers. "But she's in the cabin—she's there—aa—?"

"Jinenji—," Inuyasha answered the barely asked question. "The doctor, you know he—brought her back with some—," He brought a hand to his head as he tried to explain but his thoughts were jumbled and (even though he would never admit it) Miroku had—Miroku's accusation had not been pleasant to experience. He couldn't believe Miroku had even thought it was a possibility. "It was some new thing like when someone drowns and you push on their chest, it started her heart and I—I you know did the push thing and," He couldn't even bring up the 'kiss' of life. "She—she came back."

"She died but—" Miroku tried to put all the pieces together, attempting to understand completely. "So she almost died—or did die but when you used Jinenji's technique it saved her?"

Inuyasha didn't say a word, simply nodded, his eyes downcast staring at the floor. "It—," Inuyasha said softly. "It was my fault." His voice was bitter, tight, and filled with so much self hate that it actually made Miroku cringe. "I—I failed her."

Suddenly everything fell into place and Miroku understood, the Captain's behavior, the strange connection and awkward distance between Kagome Dresmont and one Captain Inuyasha, the vagueness about the whole shard hunt—it all made sense. Kagome had died and Inuyasha blamed himself.

"I let her die." Inuyasha continued falling to his knees on the hard wooden floor, his eyes opened staring at the carpet that was a few feet away from him by the foot of the bed. "I let her die, I watched it happen and there was nothing I could do about it—," He felt numb, for lack of a better term, as he spoke, his voice calm, not even shaky like it should have been. It was like he was reading the news from a paper not recounting a horrible story. "If I had paid attention, known I was going to be human I wouldn't have left with her." His words died as he finally closed his eyes and slumped even further forward his back hunching as his hands fell to his bent knees.

Miroku felt his eyes go wide as he realized this new piece of information. "She saw him as a human? She knows the truth then, Miss Kagome knows." He didn't have much time to file this bit of information away however, as he came back to the reality before him now. Inuyasha looked completely broken in front of him, his eyes hollow, haunted, and self deprecating. "Otou—," Miroku started to speak but the word died on his tongue and he stood there in silence watching as his father berated himself.

"I should've known, you know?" He continued on his voice starting to come out a little more strangled, so he cleared his throat. "If I just would've been aware then I would've been a demon and she would never have had ta—use her power." He looked up Miroku, his eyes pleading. "Right?"

"Aa—I—," The young man started but really was too confused to come to a conclusion. "Otou-san, tell me what happened from—the very beginning."

"It's simple, we went and I told you about the villagers tormented Jinenji because he was a half demon, right?"

"Yeah."

"And so we went with them and that night I transformed, Kagome saw—," He paused for a moment, a part of him remembering the tantalizing experience of her hand on his face but quickly shook his head, as if telling himself he wasn't worthy of the thoughts. "And then the villagers attacked Jinenji and his mother—I couldn't leave them alone," He reasoned, it was a good reason. "I told Kagome to leave but she didn't." He grumbled the last part, his voice tight accusing. "And I fought you know—then I got shot and it was bad. I've never been shot as a human and I don't ever wanted to relive it again, let me tell ya." He nodded to himself absently. "And then you know Jinenji fought but it wasn't in him, the boy wasn't a fighter, so Kagome took over—she said something about." He leaned his head back trying to remember, "People need to see the world with eyes that don't have hate—that aren't clouded with it or something and then, Miko powers." He shrugged as if that was saying enough. "Afterwards, she collapsed and she was pale—so pale."

Miroku watched Inuyasha's eyes clouded over, pained and tormented by the thought. "She died," He tried to conclude. "From using her powers?"

"She pushed herself so much," Inuyasha said weakly. "That her body couldn't take it, I think."

"And then you brought her back." Miroku finished smoothly, his voice even, no longer accusing, no longer anything.

"Yeah." Inuyasha said softly. "That's why I'm mad about the storm, you know?"

"What?" Miroku quirked an eyebrow at the odd segue.

"I thought—," He started but changed his mind. "I misjudged the storm on purpose—I wanted it to be something more than it was."

Miroku didn't gasp but he felt as if he should.

"I thought—I could make it up to her—," He laughed oddly enough as before holding his face in his hands. "I thought if I could protect everyone from a fucking storm—like last time." He looked up straight at Miroku. "Be the bad-ass everyone thinks I am. Then I could redeem myself. But I just made myself into just a plain-ass."

The room grew silent—neither man spoke as both became lost in their own thoughts. Miroku was thinking of what had just transpired—he had accused his father of rape practically only to find out the issue was so much more complex. Kagome Dresmont had died, Inuyasha blamed himself, and pissed off at himself had decided that this one failure made his whole life nothing but a series of failures. "That's why he couldn't tell me?" Miroku easily pieced together. "He didn't want me to see him as a failure. Just like any father wouldn't want his son to think he was a failure."

Miroku brought a hand to his mouth, slightly covering it with a folded hand as he watched Inuyasha grumble and mumbled from his spot on the floor, his eyes transfixed on its surface, staring at it as if he was debating punching it. Miroku couldn't help himself at the sight, he chuckled and smiled slightly because of how familiar it was to him and him alone. He highly doubted any other person in this world had ever seen Captain Inuyasha like this—he highly doubted anyone else ever would. "We have a strange relationship—you and I." He spoke finally, his words seeming to catch the Captain off guard.

"What?"

"You think you're a failure, right?" Miroku started, ignoring the slight interjection.

Inuyasha merely snorted. "I know I am." He told his son bluntly, knowing too much damage had already been done to change Miroku' opinion of him now. It was out in the opened, he was a failure. He had let an innocent woman die and by some stroke of fate been lucky enough that someone brought her back—he hadn't deserved such luck.

"You're not." Miroku told him plainly as the candle flickered on the desk, seeming to tremble. "Shit happens, right? Stuff we can't control and we do our best to handle the situation and you handled it well." Miroku ignored the Captain's snort and continued. "She's alive, isn't she? That means you handled it well. "

"I almost," Inuyasha whispered, not believing Miroku's words for a second. "Got her killed."

"But you saved her." Miroku pressed, his voice calm once again, calm and collected if not a little apologetic. "You saved her and she's in that room—your room right now safe and sound. You don't need to prove anything if that's a fact." He pointed to the wall, part of him wondering if the two women had been awakened by the earlier shouting match. If they had, they hadn't made themselves known in the least—he considered that a very good thing.

Inuyasha looked away from his son, his eyes narrowed and defiant. "Jinenji's the one that saved her."

"You saved her." Miroku told him firmly remembering back to the Captain's earlier jumbled story about using the mysterious 'pushing technique' to make her heart start again.

Inuyasha groaned at Miroku's words. "I didn't—."

"You did." Miroku told him without preamble.

"I just did what I was told." Inuyasha reasoned but his barrier seemed to be breaking, slowly, as if Miroku's logic was kind of coming through—a small ray of light in the dark room he was mentally confined to. "How the fuck do you do that." He said as the small ray started to warm him, as he started to believe Miroku's words—just slightly.

"Besides Myoga and Totosai," Miroku shrugged. "I've known you longer than anyone on this ship." Miroku told him firmly. "I'm the only person you tell anything to. Outside this room," He motioned absently. "Your room—you're as badass as they come—no one can read you, no one knows who you are." He smirked. "You're this legend that people tell their kids so they don't get up at night."

Inuyasha snorted but the sound was suspicious, maybe a contained laugh.

"You're downright scary as hell to the outside world and no man would fucking dare cross your path but in here—," Miroku smiled slightly, admiration on his face. "You're my father, and I know you better than anyone."

"Yeah—yeah. You fucking know me. I get it." Inuyasha turned away but by the look on his face, Miroku knew his words had hit home.

"And you know, Otou-san." He continued, wanting to settle this all right now. "Even the most badass man alive has to have moments where he fucks up, you know?" He spoke firmly, not allowing any argument to come of his statement. "And when he does, he's not any less of a badass because of it."

Inuyasha listened to the words, a small voice in his head still fighting back, telling him that Miroku was wrong. "I let her die." The voice pushed. "But you saved her too." Another voice—one that sounded suspiciously like Miroku chastised. "You're such a molly." Inuyasha grumbled, unable to think of anything else to say.

The choice of words seemed to put Miroku at ease, however, and the younger man smiled. "So is that what's been bothering you—not being able to protect her."

"Yeah." Inuyasha shook his head, hoping Miroku wouldn't press him any further on his other issues tonight.

Luckily for him, Miroku was far too drained to even dream of it. "Seems like a pretty small thing to me," He stifled a yawn in his hand. Now that his adrenaline was leaving him, he was growing insanely tired. "You've done a pretty good job so far keeping people alive. I mean—you kept me alive for eleven years now and Sango for four."

"Wow—," Inuyasha grumbled sarcastically. "I deserve a metal."

"Next time we dock," Miroku told him firmly. "I'll get right on that."

Inuyasha smiled despite himself before it turned into a frown, a deep frown. "Miroku—I—." He growled low in his throat, as his body relaxed for the first time in so many days. Somehow just talking to Miroku had calmed him some, reassured him, maybe he needed that reassurance. "A—um—thanks for listening, Miroku."

"No problem and for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what I said." Miroku responded evenly his head bowed as he tried to apologize but like his father he was never good at it. "And you know thanks for letting me in."

"Like I said, you're a fucking Molly." Inuyasha grumbled, it was as close to an 'apology accepted' that Miroku knew he would ever get. "Damn." Inuyasha mumbled as he pushed himself off the floor and headed to the door without another word.

Surprised Miroku stood up once again, his eyes plastered to the already retreating back. "Where ya going?"

"I'm gon'na go see how Myoga and Totosai are," He told his son dryly. "Or do you need me to tuck you in?"

Miroku glanced at the parchment that had been left abandoned during their conversation and shrugged, they could have their lesson another time. "Go 'un give 'em a break." He stretched and popped his neck absently. "I'll check on the girls and then tuck myself in."

"Good to know I raised a self sufficient pup." Inuyasha acknowledged as he reached for the door handle. "Well, alright, I'll see ya in the morning." He threw over his shoulder as he stepped out into the hallway, his ears barely catching Miroku's last words.

"Have a good night," Miroku called after him. "Otou-san."

He watched as his father carefully closed the door, his mind spinning with information. Kagome had died and the Captain practically wanted to hang himself for it. Of course, there were many thing to think about in this situation. First, Kagome had died. They needed to figure out why, what had caused her powers to really kill her—exhaustion? And secondly, why had the Captain beaten him up so badly for it, to the point he felt he needed to prove himself useful and a good protector again.

Miroku brought a hand to his head, rubbing the spot where a headache was forming, he would need to talk to Sango to get it all straight in his head but for now at least—he knew the truth.

-break-

On the other side of the land mast of Florida, stuck somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, a man ran across the deck of the ship The Thunder, a hand raised above his head as he tried to signal his Captain in his haste. "Captain!"

"What?" Hiten yelled back from his spot on the wheel, not taking his eyes off of the tropical storm around them. Over all, it wasn't a bad storm but it had the potential to become a lot worst if they didn't find a way out of it soon. From the looks of things they were headed in the right direction—the rain wasn't quiet as hard in their current position than it had been just an hour ago—so either they were headed towards the eye of the storm or towards the outskirts of it. He could only hope it was the lather.

"Look," The man called out loudly, trying to be heard over the torrent of rain. "There's something, ta starboard," He cupped his mouth with one hand as he yelled, the other pointing for emphasis. "We saw it up front, can't tell what it is!"

"Huh?" Hiten grumbled as he turned his eyes automatically towards starboard, his hands on the wheel, grasping it firmly in his hands to keep their position steady in the turbulent water's of Gulf of Mexico. He squinted against the rain, his eyes barely making out a sort of white streak in the distance, it was small, coming towards them but it didn't look like a boat—it looked very different and if he was seeing correctly it wasn't touching the water at all, it was almost floating—in the air. "Get a look from the nest!" He yelled out as he kept his eye on the small object in the distance. "On the starboard, it's a kind of white thing."

"Aye, ser, ta starboard!" The man in the bird's nest called down as he grabbed his spyglass, wiping the lens as best he could riding it of water before pulling it out to try to get a better look. The rain was too much, however, and he found himself unable to get a good look with the tool, the water blurring the lens almost immediately after raising it to his face. Grunting, he dropped it back down into the small supply basket kept in the nest without thought and squinted his eyes just as the Captain had, hoping being higher up would allow him a better view just by itself.

The rain pummeled his face as he turned his head this way and that trying to get a good view of the strange white shape, so he brought his hand up to shield it, taking in the slowly approaching object with large blue eyes, his head tilting to the side as he did.

"Well?" Hiten called up to the nest impatiently, his loud voice easily heard above the storm.

"Aa—," The man started to call down, his face scrunching up in confusion as he tried to make out the object. He furrowed his brow as and quirked his head to the side—he knew what it looked like but he had no idea at all how it was possible. "It a—well—it looks like a feather, ser." He called down stammering over his words, feeling stupid for even making the assumption.

"What?" Hiten barked out thinking he had heard wrong.

"A feather!" The man repeated as he watched the approaching object. It was becoming clearer and clearer the more he watched it; it was a feather, a large white feather with something—black atop it, small and black—strange.

"What the hell." Hiten groused as he took in the man's words, his hands tightening on the wheel as he felt anger well within him. "Is it a fucking condor feather randomly floating in the Gulf during a storm because that's the only feather large enough I can think of!"

"No ser, I think—," His eyes grew huge as he made out the figure on the feather, a small hunched figure—a person. "A wind demon!" He cried finally recognizing the feather for what it was, a wind demon caught in a storm, riding on the wind demons air manipulator of choice. "And he's coming right for us!"

The men on the deck started to scramble. Wind demons were dangerous in storms, they after all controlled the wind, if that demon wanted they could completely destroy this vessel in a matter of seconds. For a master of wind, the act would take little to no effort at all.

"Shit!" Hiten screamed as he turned the ship hastily to larboard, hoping to catch the wind enough to give them a head start from the approaching demon. There was no way he would ever try to fight a wind demon during a storm—he wasn't an idiot after all. "Be prepared!" He yelled downwards towards his men."Master's at your post, cannons—I want cannons."

A course of screamed confirmations met his ears and he ground his teeth, his eyes glancing backwards, looking for the approaching demon. It was still coming and even faster than before.

"Johnson," He screamed out the name, a man almost instantly appearing next to him prepared for any command. "The wheel's yours."

"Aye ser!" He nodded and grabbed the wheel easily, holding it tightly in place just as his Captain had done.

"Keep her in the wind, we got to get out of here." He commanded before disappearing down the stairs that lead to the Quarterdeck, his eyes staying fixated on the demon that was still approaching as he took the stairs three at a time before hastily rounding the corner as fast as he could at the bottom. To the right of the stairs he ran straight into a line of weaponry that was always there, mounted to the wall, just waiting to be used in the most dangerous of situations.

At the top a trident—Raigekijin it was named—an heirloom left behind from his now practically extinct family clan rested, gleaming in the vague light that the natural occurring lightening left behind.

Yanking it from the wall he ran outside, holding the weapon against him as if it was the most important thing in the world—and it was—it was the key to his demonic power. The feather was still approaching, just close enough that Hiten was able to make it out through the dense rain. The sight that met him surprised him to no end. The feather was spinning like a top, continuously, quickly. He lowered the weapon, his eyes wide as he watched it hurl towards them—completely out of control.

"Nothing's controlling it." He realized, his eyes widening as he watched it speed up, faster and faster, the ship had no hope of ever out running it. "Holy shit." He just managed to say as suddenly the feather was right on top of them, plowing into the tall mast at the back of the ship, lurching them forward as it hit them, tearing into the rigging and the very last sail, ripping into it—the sound of it being shredded causing the whole ship to simultaneously gasp in horror as they watched the feather suddenly disappear with a large puff of white smoke out of which a falling body emerged only seconds later.

Reacting on instinct and instinct alone, Hiten jumped the staff dropping from his hands forgotten and unused as he lunged forward and upwards, his arms reaching for the falling figure—knowing the fifty foot fall from the top of the mast to the deck below could be fatal for even a demon.

The feel of sudden weight made his heart lurch as he felt the body of the demon sink into his hands as he was thrust instantly back down to the ground by gravity. Somehow, he managed to land back on his feet, his eyes wide and his heart racing as he held the demon in tight and surprised fingers.

He took a deep breath, his eyes immediately looking over the figure before his breathing stopped all together. The demon in his arms was not a demon at all—but a demoness with beautiful ivy skin, black hair, and taunting half parted red lips. Her head was slumped to the side, her eyes closed as if asleep but really more than likely unconscious. Her clothes clung to her body, wet, and strange, the pattern mainly white with strange purple and reddish stripes running through it at odd angles. He had never seen such a dress before, it wrapped around her tightly, fashioned by a wide and weirdly knotted belt holding it together at her waist.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered opened and she looked at him, unseeing for a moment as they adjusted to the rain hitting her face. "Nani?" She whispered and he frowned at the strange word as he took in those deep black, intense eyes, they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. She mumbled, her red lips catching him off guard as they moved and she turned, looking at him, her expression confused. "Who are yuu?" She asked, her words now seemingly coherent.

"I could ask you the same thing." He whispered, surprised that he had whispered.

She smirked, the expression suiting her face distinctly. "Yuu terr me," She groaned as she spoke, her eyes starting to close again. "And I'rr terr y-u-u-uuu." He eyes fluttered closed and the word lazily dripped from her tongue as she lost consciousness once more.

End of Chapter

Please Review

A/N: Well raise your hand if you know who that is? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really had a good time writing it. I find the relationship between Miroku and Inuyasha so underdone in the anime/manga so I adore writing chapters where I get to mess with their dynamic. I just hope its believable. It was to me but I was just giddy over them fighting really. I love writing those scenes where Inuyasha loses it...anyway, hope it was good.

Bonus Point:

In honor of this particular chapter, let's see who the nerds are out there. What's the meaning to Life, the Universe and Everything? (Hint: Don't Panic!)

If you don't know that, then Inuyasha question: Who was that on the feather? (I know way too easy, I'm disappointed in even myself.)

Last Chapter's Bonus Point:

Onigumo was his name-o! (I really thought I'd get a review to that effect) Congrats to the winners:

Warm-Amber92, dustyangel, flamendwaterislochnessmonste r, foxfacish, HentaiLemon, SweetHunniiBunnii, AnimeFanatic123, TheRealInuyasha, InuKag77, AriaLuvsInu, SilverStarWing, Lovinukag, Ciao from Indiana, Coka Cookie Cola, NurNur, Litle C, Kittychic0895, Purple Dragon Ranger, Glon Morski, HeavenlyEclipse (P.S. Yes, yes he is), Anonymous, InuEared Miko of Darkness

InuKag77 - I sent the story through a private message on FF, let me know if you got it or not. It should come though whatever email is associated with you FF account.

Next Chapter:

The Wind Enchantress

See you then!

UNEDITED

POSTED 1/12/2012