Chapter 87
Viperam sub ala nutricare
"A viper nursed at the bosom"
"When we don't know who to hate,
we hate ourselves."
—Invisible Monsters
"I gotta go."
He had to leave. He had to. It was too much, and his gut already felt like it would somersault right out of his body.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to reach out and strike and demolish everything in his path.
He made it a few bounds into the tree line, snarling as he swiped his claws across the trunk of a tree, watching it fall to the ground. His hands clenched into fists, and he felt his claws dig into his skin, blood running off and dripping into the dirt.
The tree fell to the ground in front of him with a loud crash.
He didn't doubt her honesty. He never doubted that she was telling the truth. Kagome couldn't lie worth shit, and she was shit at keeping secrets.
But what she'd said.
Kikyo had shot her. Twice.
Tried to—Tried to—he didn't even know what the fuck sort of word to use—barter?—him—used him like a fucking pawn in a game to make Kagome do what she wanted.
And he didn't doubt that it was true.
"Inuyasha?" Miroku called, and Inuyasha leapt off to avoid talking to anyone. He needed a moment to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do.
He didn't need help trying to figure it out. He didn't want it.
This was something he had to do on his own; something he had to figure out on his own.
Running across branches, Inuyasha couldn't fathom how to fix this.
Kagome was upset; he was upset.
He dropped down to the earth below, glaring at the trees for a moment before deciding that something needed to die, and they'd lived long enough.
Digging his claws into the bark and wood, he ripped out handfuls until the trees creaked, groaning loudly before swaying slightly until the very fibers holding it upright snapped like twigs and the whole thing slowly fell to the side, sending up a flurry of dirt and dust into the air.
He watched it, staring at the clouds that rose, slowly dissipating into the air.
He didn't feel better. This was supposed to make him feel better.
He didn't feel better at all. If anything, he just felt more like some bastard fuckwad that didn't deserve her.
And then he was running again, trying to put distance between himself and the great gnawing pit of guilt that began to eat at him. Feet connected with each branch with a surety that he'd taken for granted.
Kagome could barely stand on her own. She'd nearly fucking died, and he'd been fucking sleeping. He'd gone down so fast that there was no chance of helping her.
She'd had to protect the both of them. Against the youkai and Kikyo—because apparently that was a thing now. He'd thought that they were past this. Kikyo didn't want him. She'd made that really obvious.
She only wanted him as a human. She didn't want him. He knew the difference.
Well, he did now.
By the time that he was done, there were several large chunks of wood in the newly made clearing, and he still didn't feel better.
Crouching, he leapt back into the trees, darting to and fro among the branches, before leaping back down to the earth once more.
It wasn't that far of a run, and when he landed, he stared at the destruction around him. He could smell the old decayed scent of blood. Carcasses littered the ground, and he could only stare at them.
His eyes drifted to the tree where he'd been sleeping his ass off, and he sneered at it. For once, his youkai blood had been a hindrance to him. Striding towards it, he glared at the bloody smears that ran across the trunk of it.
She'd bled for him. Even though she'd been gravely injured, Kagome had still made sure that he was safe.
And if he knew anything about Kagome, he knew that she probably took better care of him than she did herself.
"Idiot," he muttered to the clearing.
It was like she didn't realize that she was—she was everything. The world fell apart without her in it.
Inuyasha stared at the spot where he knew he'd been for several days.
Shaking his head, he turned to stare at the rest of the clearing.
A scorch mark splayed out around a hole in the ground. This had to be where that explosion was that they were talking about.
His stomach churned and roiled just under his skin.
The scorch mark was—it was way larger than he'd imagined.
The burns—the way they'd cascaded over her chest and thighs and arms—but not her face.
He stared at the hole. If whatever it was had gone off, then it should've injured everything.
So why not?
He kneeling down, he leaned over the hole to see if he could get a better look at what might've been inside.
They'd witnessed explosives first hand with Renkotsu and his dumbass bombs.
But he didn't smell anything like what he'd smelled with that fucker.
Instead, it smelled an awful lot like scorched earth and nothing else.
That shit always left a scent. Usually acrid. The kind of shit that lingered in his mouth well after he'd smelled it and made everything—even water—taste wrong.
But there wasn't anything like that here. Nothing like it in fact.
If there wasn't the great black mark across the ground, he'd doubt that there was even an explosion here at all.
And how would she have even gotten such injuries?
Whatever it'd been had to be in the hole, and it'd blown wide open—he looked around the small clearing again.
So what the fuck?
Well, Kagome wouldn't have been able to walk with her ankle fucked up like that, so she'd have been crawling—but with an arrow through her shoulder?
He winced at the pain that she must've been in, and it only made his stomach churn even more.
He should've been there—and awake—to help her.
But the burns on her body didn't make sense.
Well, if she wasn't standing . . .
Squatting down next to the hole, he stared at it.
It wasn't anything special, and his eyes scanned it over trying to find something that would explain what had happened.
What had injured Kagome so gravely?
What had Kikyo wanted—or at least what she was trying to accomplish?
None of this was making any sense.
Kagome had said that she hadn't meant to hurt Kikyo—and he believed her. He'd never seen her be aggressive without provocation.
Even with Kikyo, and even though he didn't really understand why they were so—angry with each other.
Kikyo didn't want him—and he didn't really want her.
The only thing that he wanted from her was her safety. He'd promised her to keep her safe, but nothing else beyond that. She'd claimed that the proper thing was for him to die with her, but truth be told, he didn't want to.
Especially since they'd figured out that Naraku had been behind all the bullshit.
He'd done nothing wrong—except not trust her enough—and yet, she still wanted him to die for her, with her. He'd done nothing wrong, and it wasn't fair that she kept making him feel like shit for not wanting to be punished for something he'd never done or ever do.
He took a deep breath, catching the rancid smell of burnt earth and the last vestiges of seared flesh.
Wrinkling his nose at it all, he watched half an ofuda float past him on the wind. Stretching his arm out, he snatched it between two fingers.
The paper was brittle and stiff. He carefully stretched it, staring at the familiar writing.
These were definitely Kikyo's. He'd seen her make them often enough.
Fucking hours spent watching her carefully doodle across fancy paper with her fancy letters.
He'd know her ofuda just as well as he knew her arrows.
He'd asked her once what she was writing, and Kikyo had merely looked up at him and said, "Ofuda."
Like he couldn't tell. Like he was a fucking idiot.
He just couldn't read what she was writing because her hand was in the way. He could read. And Kagome was the only one who'd ever even bothered to ask or find out.
And that meant something to him.
Everyone else was fine thinking that he was just some uneducated idiot, but Kagome had taken the time to show him books and ask him if he knew how to read and write. And yeah, he wasn't as good as her, he could make due with what skills he had.
Reading and writing weren't exactly survival skills out here in the woods.
So he'd never felt that it was something to invest a shit ton of time and effort into.
Kagome never made him feel dumb about anything. Sometimes she'd bring him books to read while he stayed in her time and she was at school. Sometimes, he sat on her bed and read the stories she gave him. There was even a small spot on her shelves where she said he could put them if he wanted to keep them.
No one had ever given him space before. No one had really ever given him things he might want to keep either.
Staring at the piece of paper, he'd hoped that it would explain everything. He'd hoped that it would just allow him to figure out what Kikyo had wanted, what she was trying to do.
Well, he had a very strong idea of what she wanted to do.
But she hadn't tried to hurt Kagome before—well, not in a really long time.
Fuck.
They were past this. Been past it for a while.
So why now?
What had changed?
He huffed, leaning back on his haunches to look at the clearing.
Fucking everything had changed in the past few weeks.
Shit.
Fuck.
It'd only been—what?—a little over a couple months?
He ran a hand over his face. Everything had fucking changed, who was he kidding?
And why did it seem like everyone and their fucking brother was out to tear them apart?
Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the sheet of paper between his fingers, staring, trying to beg it for answers. A clue. Anything that would help.
The writing on this didn't look like an ordinary subduing ofuda.
If anything, this looked far more complicated.
"What the fuck were you doing, Kikyo?" He whispered to the trees, gaze turning towards the ones closest to him. "Shame you fuckers can't talk."
He looked back at the hole in the ground, frowning.
Wait.
He leaned back over it.
Kagome's burns were only on her front. Her chest, thighs, and arms. Not her face. Not her shins. One arm was worse that the other. Swallowing, he slowly lowered one hand into the hole, reaching for something just beyond his reach.
That was it.
She'd reached into the hole.
Whatever Kagome had done, she'd set it off herself.
Did she know what she was doing? Did she do it on purpose?
He turned to look at the tree.
There was a sinking feeling in his gut that she'd done it for him.
"You idiot," he whispered, withdrawing his hand and clutching the edge of the small hole and smashing the paper under his palm. "You fucking idiot."
He hung his head staring at the blown and scorched earth beneath him.
There were so many questions left to answer—and maybe if he hadn't bailed like he had, he would've been able to get them, but just hearing what she'd said—
He was furious.
Why didn't she think that she could tell him? Why didn't she think that he would care?
Hadn't they established that she meant everything to him?
Hadn't he proven that already?
What did he have to do for her to get it?
He just had a lot of fucking questions, okay?
He pushed himself up, the paper stuck to his palm, and he looked at it again.
Maybe he could figure it out with what's left.
He stared at the familiar writing, trying to decipher what she'd written.
Definitely something for subjugation, but the other part didn't really make sense.
What the hell was Kikyo doing here?
What was her plan? The grand end game?
Kikyo never did anything half-assed. She always had a plan and a goal. She always knew what she wanted to accomplish.
There had to be more. There had to be another clue somewhere else.
He wanted answers.
He wanted evidence, so he would know if Kagome was keeping secrets.
Well, more secrets.
Again.
He crinkled his nose at the thought.
The area that they'd been held in couldn't be too large. He looked at the hole. That had to be the center, so he'd start from there, and work his way out.
It was well into the night by the time that he'd found anything that appeared substantial.
And it was pretty far outside of what he assumed the barrier to be, which was strange to say the least.
An ofuda remained plastered to a tree. He felt like this was a good clue.
Reading the writing, it only confused him more. It was a subduing disguise?
What the hell did that even mean? What did it do? It was on a fucking tree, so it clearly wasn't disguising anything.
Maybe the power had worn off of it.
But the question remained, why disguise a tree? And what was it supposed to look like to begin with?
How was it that each question he somewhat answered led to eight fucking more?
Huffing loudly through his nose, he scowled at the strip of paper before ripping it off.
The sharp sting of reiki singed his fingers, but the paper came off the trunk of the tree.
"The fuck?" He yelped throwing the thing off.
Why was it still charged if it wasn't working?
The sharp smell of spider tinged his nostrils, and he looked at the tree that was now unfolding all of its legs out, before looking at him, mandibles clicking and rubbing together. The spider clicked its fangs, and lunged at him, and he leapt up avoiding it.
"The fuck did I do to you?"
Oh.
Now the ofuda made sense.
Venom splashed on the branch next to him as he shifted away just enough to avoid it.
"You wanna fight so bad? Come on, you fucker," he taunted, cracking his knuckles. No need for the sword on this thing. He'd rip this thing to pieces by hand; he was in a mood for slaughter.
The spider knocked the tree down with one of it's legs, but Inuyasha had already jumped down, taking out a couple legs with a hard swipe. The spider howled, awkwardly turning around to attack, legs and web shooting out to entrap and wound him. Inuyasha leapt onto it's back slicing off the other legs in the process. The spider squealed, still trying to attack.
Inuyasha drove his fist into the spider's head, and all the legs twitched before the body slumped onto the ground, dust rising up in a small cloud before settling quickly.
Well that settles that at least.
Now he just had everything else to figure out.
Flicking his claws, some of the remains flew off, but he was still caked in spider brains. Not that there was much there to begin with but enough to make a mess. He grimaced at the smell and the mess.
Stepping forward, his foot crumpled the paper, and he leaned down to pick it up with his cleaner fingers, shoving it into his coat before leaping off for the nearest river.
Standing at the porch, he took in a deep breath, steeling himself for what was probably going to be a complete disaster.
Hardly anything ever went his way, and he knew that this had the potential to go wrong very quickly.
He'd like to think that the dampness in his hands was leftover from the river, but that might not be the entire truth.
Stepping up on to the porch, he dragged in a deep breath before slowly pulling the door open.
The privacy screen had been moved, now carefully placed around where he assumed Kagome was sleeping, because he didn't see her anywhere else in the room.
His ears flicked back, and he crinkled his nose at the thought that he'd been the one to cause it.
Part of him wanted to sit at the edge of it and whine until she let him in again. Apologize for what he'd undeniably done by leaving her.
But the other part wanted to march over, rip the screen away from where she lay, and toss it across the room before curling his body around her and reminding her that he was here, and he hadn't left her.
Not in the way that she thought.
But neither of those was what he should do, and so he turned away, padding over to where the monk lay.
"Miroku," Inuyasha hissed, shaking his shoulder, and after a moment, the monk groaned, rolling onto his back to blearily stare at him.
"Inuyasha?" He whispered, slowly pushing himself up. "When did you get back?"
"Just now," Inuyasha clipped, reaching into his jacket to hold out the ofuda, "what does this do?"
Miroku squinted, wiping his face and eyes briefly, before flicking his gaze back at Inuyasha.
"You know I can't read in the dark."
"Then move to the fucking fire," Inuyasha grabbed a handful of robe and unceremoniously dragged the monk out of his blankets and towards the fire pit where he could fucking read the damn slip of paper.
Miroku took the paper, angling it towards the small fire, and slowly read through the writing.
He frowned as he read it, shifting the angle of the ofuda as he read over it.
"Are you that slow?" Inuyasha hissed.
Miroku shot him a glare before looking back at the ofuda.
"Where did you find this?" He asked.
"Just outside where you found us. Why?"
Miroku pushed his hand off of his robes, pushing himself up to a sitting position, still holding onto the ofuda and the look on his face was a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"What does it do?" Inuyasha asked.
"This is—Not every priestess can do this. I've only seen these in passing. I've never tried to make them before."
"That's fucking great! What does it do?" Inuyasha pointed a finger at the piece of paper in Miroku's hands.
Miroku stared at his fingers for just a moment before snatching his hand twisting it around and revealing the burns across the pads of his fingers in the firelight.
"Why don't you tell me since you're the one who removed it?"
Inuyasha jerked his hand back, curling it into a fist. Looking away from the monk's face, he stared at the small fire, avoiding eye contact.
"Found it on a tree. When I took it off, a spider showed up."
"I don't follow."
Inuyasha huffed in frustration. Why was everyone such an idiot when he tried to explain things?
"I took it off the tree, and then the tree turned into a spider youkai."
"That—makes sense actually." Miroku held up the ofuda. "This is both a way to subdue and paralyze youkai and a way to cast an illusion over them. It would've taken some impressive skills to create and perform."
"Yeah," Inuyasha muttered, still staring at the fire.
"I assume that we both understand that there is one person we know out there who is capable of doing this sort of thing—and probably quite easily?"
"Yeah," he sighed. He'd known it when he pulled it off the tree. He had a pretty good idea of what it could do; he just wanted to be sure.
"She was very upset when you left," Miroku pointed out, and Inuyasha wanted to ask the question, but he wasn't sure if he had the right. "Sad. Not angry."
Inuyasha stared at the privacy screen that blocked his view of her.
What he wanted and what he thought he should do were in clear conflict with each other.
"She didn't eat much for dinner."
His ears flattened back.
That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.
"I'll—I'm gonna sit on the roof."
Miroku rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to, you know."
"No, I need—there's air outside."
"Ah," Miroku said with a nod. "Well, come inside once you've gotten enough air then." He patted Inuyasha's shoulder as he rose to his feet. "It would be best if you were here for breakfast though."
Inuyasha gave him a short nod, rising up and heading back towards the door.
The night air was cool, and the noises were soft as he shut the door behind him. He leapt up onto the roof quietly stretching out across the shingles.
A sliver of the moon hung overhead, and he sighed as it seemed the world he'd had a firm grasp on just this morning slowly slipped out from under him and left him floundering in waters and rapids that he wasn't sure he could navigate.
A/N: Happy Thursday! Thanks for being so patient with me! I hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!