Chapter 77
Ex Oblivione
"From Oblivion"
"Afterward, there was that long,
crowded pause in which everyone
decides that although they are very shaken,
and possibly upside down,
they are, to their surprise, still alive."
—The Carpet People
Inuyasha couldn't move. His body wouldn't answer when he told it to move or shift or even fucking raise a finger.
A cool, damp cloth ran gently over his face, and he hadn't realized what a relief it was. No one was talking, and he couldn't smell shit either. His nostrils felt like they'd been scorched. Like when he'd fought Renkotsu. He couldn't smell anything, not even Kagome, for a while.
He couldn't tell where he was, but it was either dark or inside. He couldn't feel the sun on his skin at all, and so he was left in the endless turmoil of not knowing anything useful, except for the fact that everything ached.
The damp rag disappeared, and he almost whimpered at its loss. His body felt like it was boiling, and he just wanted the comfort of knowing that Kagome was there, taking care of him like she always did.
How he hadn't burst into flames already was a mystery in of itself.
The rag reappeared freshly cooled with water, and it ran delicately over his forehead, cheeks, trailing along his neck and chest.
Someone very carefully rubbed his eyes with another rag, dragging away the clumps of dirt and grit that had accumulated there and making the skin itch.
"He's doing much better," Sango said quietly.
"Indeed. His fever has come down considerably from yesterday."
Yesterday? How long had he been out?
Sango let out a soft sigh.
"I'll go fetch some fresh water," she said after a moment.
Where was Kagome?
"I can do it, if you'd like."
"No," Sango answered, and he could hear her rising to her feet beside him. The soft chunk of a wooden bucket being lifted. "I need—" There was a significant pause between her words as she searched to find them. "I need a moment alone."
Sango's soft steps drifted away from him, and he could feel himself drifting too.
Where was Kagome? Why wasn't she here?
"Sango," Miroku called after a moment; his voice soft and purposeful. "They're going to be okay."
There was no reply except the soft shutting of a door.
They?
"Inuyasha?" Kagome's voice drifted in through the dark, and he rolled his head towards the sound of her voice. "Inuyasha, can you hear me?"
He made a pathetic noise as her fingers drifted over his face. She dragged her thumb back and forth over his cheek, and he took a deep breath trying to catch whiffs of her scent, but it eluded him.
Her hand withdrew, and the whimper that escaped him as he tried to chase her hand should've made him ashamed, but he just wanted her.
He wanted her to tell him that he was fine, that she was fine, and that they were going to be okay.
The hand returned, and he sighed through his nostrils.
She hummed, cupping his face, and he tried to move, to open his eyes and see her face.
He just wanted to see her.
"Inuyasha," she repeated, fingers running along his jaw. "Open your eyes."
He blinked heavily, the light drifting in blinding him, and he had to squint to keep it from hiding her from him.
She blurred, still touching his face, before it all cleared, and he saw Kikyo staring down at him.
He jolted at the sight of her, and maybe he shouldn't have, but he'd just heard Kagome, and where was Kagome?
"Kagome?" He rasped, trying to turn his head to look for her.
Kikyo sighed, heavily and with indignation.
He rolled his head back towards her, eyes searching her face as she withdrew her hand from him.
He remembered something about Kikyo; it was something important. Something that mattered.
He just couldn't fathom what that was exactly.
He took a breath.
"You can't even tell us apart," Kikyo sighed.
That—that wasn't it at all. He knew who was who. Kikyo could never be Kagome, and he didn't want her to be. He'd cared for both of them in very distinct ways.
Some were similar, but others were very much not.
"You've forgotten all about me," she said softly, staring off to the side.
How could he forget about her? She was the first person in such a long time to show him any kindness.
He'd loved her.
It wasn't right what had happened to them. It wasn't right that she'd died.
But he had no control over that.
Just like he'd had no control over her resurrection, even though he felt guilty about it.
He watched her face carefully. It was both familiar and not, and that surprised him.
He tried not to flinch when her hand returned to his cheek. Things had changed between them, and he was both sorry and not that they had.
"Kagome—?" He started, but his voice died off as her fingers trailed down his jaw and towards his throat.
"I am done with the both of you," she snapped, cutting him off.
Her fingers wrapped around his neck, and the first sharp snap of her reiki singed his skin, and he cried out as she wrapped her other hand around his neck as well.
"I'll make you exactly how I want you to be."
All he could think was how much he didn't want to change.
Inuyasha came to awareness slowly—and rather painfully.
His body still felt like it was burning, and his joints ached, almost like they would crackle if he so much as shifted.
Moving his fingers felt like an impossible task, even as he tried anyway.
He just needed to know what time it was and who was there.
"Hey, Inuyasha," Miroku said almost in greeting, as if he expected him to be able to respond. "It's only me today. I'm afraid Sango is tending to Kagome at the moment."
Kagome? What was wrong with Kagome?
He needed more information, but unfortunately had no way of actually asking for it.
"Your fever is down a bit more today," Miroku continued, and he felt him lift his head gently to wipe the back of his neck, and Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to rip the cloth out of Miroku's hands and demand that he give him some fucking useful information for once.
But the moment the cloth touched the hot damp skin of his neck, the soothing coolness abated his anger momentarily. He was still hot, and there wasn't nearly enough air movement to cool him down any, but there was a fire in the room. The soft crackling of the logs giving the spot away.
"There," Miroku said, lowering his head back down gently. "I'm sure that feels much better."
Fuck him, even though he was right.
"Shippo was quite helpful today," he continued, talking as if Inuyasha gave two shits about the stupid fox. "He managed to find an herb that Sango needed all by himself."
His entire body felt like he'd had Sesshomaru's acid in his blood stream. Everything felt tight and burned from the inside out.
There was a noise, something soft and rustling a little bit away, and he wanted to twist an ear towards it, to hear better, but nothing worked. Nothing moved, no matter how hard he strained his body to obey his commands.
He was trapped in an finite darkness with nothing but the monk for company.
And all he wanted to know was if Kagome was alright.
The cool cloth returned, gently rubbing along his upper lip.
"Ah, I was hoping that you'd moved on from the nose bleeds, but it would appear that you have not."
Nose bleeds? How long had he been having nose bleeds?
Why was he having nose bleeds?
Why couldn't anyone give him any information that was actually fucking useful?
"This one, however," Miroku wiped the cloth firmly along his upper lip, "doesn't seem quite as severe as the others."
Wait a fucking second.
How bad did they fucking get?
He couldn't just dangle that little tidbit out there and not fucking talk about it at all.
The silence that pervaded proved that apparently you very well fucking could just leave it out there and not talk about it ever again.
He could hear Miroku shifting around and wringing a cloth, but the sounds were fading in an out in intensity as he tried to focus. He didn't want to slip away again. He had too many questions that needed answers, and he wasn't fucking getting anything useful out of it.
Miroku sighed, and Inuyasha mentally raised his middle fingers towards the monk since he couldn't do so physically.
His eyes felt dry and heavy. Everything, in fact, felt so heavy, and he couldn't find the strength or energy to move.
A cool cloth draped over his forehead and eyes. There was a soft rustling beside him and the familiar soft sound of a full bucket settling on the floor.
"It's just me," Miroku said, settling down beside him. His voice sounded tired, almost ragged, like he'd been worn to the bone over the last few days.
The rag was removed, and water sloshed and swirled next to him. The sound was soft, and then the newly dampened rag ran over his face, paying special attention to his eyes, where he could feel chunks of something being tugged away from his skin.
"I'm starting to miss our conversations," Miroku continued, and Inuyasha found the wherewithal in him to summon up every bit of energy and inner strength he had to crack open his eyes. "I'm finding it a bit too quiet."
The dimness of the room felt almost blinding, and he could only just make out Miroku as he looked down at something on the floor.
His arms shifted slightly as he swirled something—probably the rag—into the water.
Inuyasha blinked, feeling more like he was lifting an extreme weight, as Miroku's image began to clear.
His skin was pale, and there were deep dark marks under his eyes.
Slowly, Miroku turned back to Inuyasha, raising the rag towards him again.
The moment his eyes locked onto Inuyasha's, however, he dropped the rag on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the sight.
"Inuyasha?" Miroku asked, almost hissing the name out as if he was afraid to disturb the quiet.
The only thing that Inuyasha had the strength to do was blink at the moment.
"S—Sango!" Miroku called, not breaking eye contact, grabbing Inuyasha's hand in his own. "Sango, come here!"
He felt like shit, and he wanted nothing more than to vomit up whatever was in his system, which felt full and empty at the same time.
"Is something wr—?" Sango appeared just on the edges of his vision, words dying on her mouth as she inhaled sharply.
Inuyasha felt her more than saw her movement as she dove towards him, grabbing his other hand and holding it to her chest.
Sango was nearly doubled over as she clutched at his arm, body shaking against him.
"You're awake!" She cried, and Inuyasha watched in horror as Sango wept, still clinging to his arm.
"You had us worried, my friend," Miroku added, wiping his face with the back of his covered hands. "We were starting to wonder if we were too late."
Too late? Too late for what?
Everything felt heavy, and thinking was wearing on him and his energy levels.
His fingers twitched in Sango's grasp, and as desperate as he was for answers, he could feel sleep looming in on the horizon, slowly dragging him back down into nothing.
Sango pressed his knuckles to her cheek, which was wet to the touch.
"K—Ka—" His voice gave out as he tried to speak.
Miroku—bless him—figured out what he wanted.
"Worry about yourself. We're taking good care of her."
But that wasn't what he wanted to hear as sleep dragged him off against his will, and he still had more questions than answers.
His eyes drifted closed, even as he fought to stay awake just for a bit longer.
Kagome.
He wanted Kagome. He felt like shit, and he wanted her type of comforting.
But there was something deep down that demanded he find her and make sure that she was alright.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. Something was wrong with Kagome.
He hadn't—he hadn't even seen her. Shouldn't she be nearby? She was always close to him. And everything felt wrong, muted.
It took considerable effort to roll onto his side and attempt to push himself up. A batch of black hair draped over his shoulder.
It was the night of the new moon? How long had he been asleep?
That—that actually explained a lot.
His arm shook under his own weight, and he grunted at the effort it took to rise to just his elbows.
Where was haori? His kosode?
He was surrounded by privacy screens on three sides with the wall making up the fourth. He couldn't see shit, though he was pretty sure that he was back in the room they'd had at that inn.
He still wasn't keen on how he got back there or why he hadn't seen Kagome yet. At least, that was a problem that was easily remedied. He just had to move, even though his body was fighting him tooth and nail on that.
He shifted a little and felt the blanket move against skin that it definitely should not have been touching.
Lifting the blanket, he found himself staring at his own dick.
Just as he suspected.
Tucking the blanket back down, he glared at the privacy screen as if he could summon the monk by sheer hatred alone.
"Oh, Inuyasha!" Miroku said with some surprise.
Huh. Maybe he should try that more often.
"You're up."
"Why the fuck am I bare ass naked? And why the fuck am I human?"
"Oh that," Miroku said, kneeling beside him with a small tray of what looked like broth and a bottle of water from Kagome's bag.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Inuyasha pushed himself up the rest of the way, feeling his head swim at the move. He groaned, feeling his stomach roll.
"You should really take it easy," Miroku said, holding onto his arms to steady him.
"Could you just fucking explain something?" He groaned. "Anything."
"How about you eat something first? The antidote we've been giving you is quite harsh on the system."
Miroku pushed the tray towards him.
"Antidote?"
"Food first," Miroku said, picking up the bowl.
"Where's Kagome?"
"Food first," he repeated, holding it out to him.
So he was just going to ignore the question?
"If you eat, I promise I will answer all your questions," Miroku sang as he pressed the bowl closer to him.
"Fine," he snapped. "But you better start saying some shit that is actually useful."
Inuyasha held his hand out for the bowl, noting how his muscles quivered as he held his hand out.
Miroku held the bowl out to him, letting him grab it with trembling hands.
"Your system is weak. It's just a matter of time before we get you back up to full strength."
"How long have I been out?" He asked, and Miroku gestured to the bowl in his hands. Inuyasha slowly raised it up to his mouth, feeling the quiver of his muscles threaten to spill the hot liquid over some very sensitive—and currently unprotected with the exception of a very thin sheet—parts.
Miroku quickly took the bowl from him, setting it down on the plate and rising to his feet.
"One moment," he darted out past the privacy screen, and Inuyasha took the moment to shift so that his back was resting against the wall and making sure that all of him was covered by the blanket.
Miroku reappeared with a ladle and a tea cup.
"Here, this might be easier for you to handle currently."
He carefully spooned the hot liquid into the cup and then handed it to Inuyasha, who grimaced at his current struggles
Taking a sip, Inuyasha felt the warmth pool in his gut.
"Start talking, monk."
"We found you almost five days ago. You've been unconscious the entire time. Well, except for when you woke up yesterday."
"I've been out for five days?"
"Four. You came to yesterday evening, remember?" He took the empty cup out of Inuyasha's hands and refilled it, handing it back.
Four days was longer than he'd ever been entirely unconscious.
But wait. That meant it couldn't be the night of the new moon.
Inuyasha shifted his arm and felt the pull of something against his skin. He craned his head around to see, but only caught the edges of something stuck to his shoulder.
"Ah, that," Miroku said with a slight wince.
"Did you fucking purify me?" He growled, reaching his arm back to tug the ofuda free of his skin. "What the fuck, Miroku?"
Miroku was already scrambling to keep him from tugging the ofuda off his arm by wrenching his hand away from himself.
"Don't do that!" Miroku shouted as he fought with the currently human half-demon.
By comparison, Inuyasha was stronger than most human men, even when he was experiencing his time of weakness, but now, Miroku easily overpowered him. Something that hadn't ever happened before.
It wasn't even really a fight. It felt like Miroku's grip had quadrupled in the span of a few minutes, and any struggle was too much for Inuyasha's overloaded system. His muscles went slack, and he was already starting to sweat from the exertion.
"You can't take that off," Miroku stated, holding Inuyasha's hands away from his own arm far too easily for Inuyasha's liking.
"Fine!" Inuyasha snapped, and Miroku raised an eye brow as he slowly released his grip on Inuyasha's wrists, looking like he was going to pounce if Inuyasha showed the slightest inclination towards removing the ofuda. "Care to explain why the fuck I'm purified?"
Miroku sighed, handing him a refilled tea cup of broth.
Inuyasha's arms shook as he lifted the cup. He'd rarely ever had muscles aches, but he felt pretty sure he'd be feeling this tomorrow.
"I purified you, because I'm pretty sure that your youki was killing you."
A/N: Happy Thursday! I hope that you enjoyed Inuyasha's perspective, and I'm so glad that y'all liked the last few chapters. I'm scheduled to move in a couple weeks, and I'm pretty sure that I'll have to take a break from posting for a couple weeks, and hopefully, I'll be able to pick back up in December. Packing, moving, and unpacking, and then posting on top of that is just going to be too much.
I'll post next week, but then I'll be taking a short break. Thanks so much for understanding!