Chapter 11
Aegroto dum anima est, spes esse dicitur
"As long as there is life there is hope for the ill one, it is said"


"All human wisdom is summed up in these two words – 'Wait and hope.'"
-The Count of Monte Cristo


He reached the village just a moment behind the others. Miroku was right; they were waiting. He stepped out of the trees as Sango and Miroku dismounted Kirara. An older man, probably a decade younger than Kaede, stood motioning to the monk. Miroku turned to call Inuyasha over, and Inuyasha watched as the old man narrowed his gaze at the half-demon holding the unconscious woman.

"What is the meaning of this, monk?" The old man snapped, striding out to meet them.

"As I explained, this is our friend, the priestess who needs healing. She's—"

"Demon's aren't welcome in our village."

A low growl broke out of his chest, and he clutched Kagome just a little tighter to him.

"She is welcome. He is not."

"I ain't leaving her with anyone!" Inuyasha snarled.

"My good sir, you must understand that he is her protector, her guardian. They simply cannot be parted. He will not leave her side." Miroku tried to reason, moving to stand between them, his back to Inuyasha. His hands raised in a placating gesture. "He will not hurt anyone here."

"Guardian or not, demons stay in the woods. They are no better than animals with human faces. They belong outside a village!"

"Sir, please, he will cause no harm to anyone. I give you my word."

"Your word is worth shit here, monk. I will not stand for it."

"Both of you shut up!" Sango roared out and all three males turned towards her. She marched up to the healer, jabbing a finger in his chest. "My friend is bleeding, possibly to death, and you want to bicker about Inuyasha's blood?" The man looked taken aback for just a moment.

"You let women fight your battles too?" He sneered. Miroku's hands were already pulling Sango away. She was trying to wrench Hiraikotsu out from behind her back unsuccessfully.

"If possible, I'd let her fight all my battles, then I would be assured victory." Sango huffed, and Miroku jabbed his staff into the ground. "You promised us aid. My friend is in dire need of help. We came here because you promised your services. You had little issue with Kirara; Inuyasha is no different."

The man stood, eyeing the half-demon again.

"I suppose an inugami is entirely different then. I assume the beads link you to your master."

"He's no—"

"Yeah, I belong to her. And if she dies, I'm gonna be pissed. And I know exactly who I'm going after first." His eyes narrowed and the man took a step back towards his hut, motioning for them to follow. Miroku moved beside him. "Let it go, monk."

"Kagome is going to be upset."

"Let her be. At least, she'll be awake."

Miroku stopped walking for a moment, staring at the back of his friend, watching as he stepped into the hospice.


"You can't be in here." The healer pointed to the doorway, as though he was a bad dog and needed reprimanding. How else was she supposed to get in the stupid room if he wasn't allowed in? Like he was going to let anyone else hold her!

"The fuck I can't!" Inuyasha shouted, his arms still supporting Kagome's head and shoulders as he lowered her to the ground. He made sure to try and center her in the blankets that were spread on the ground. The floor felt too hard under his feet for her to lay on and be comfortable. He would bring her sleeping bag in later. It would make her feel better, to have something of hers.

"It's improper! I will not allow it!"

"And you can do fuck all about it! I'm staying!"

"I refuse to work with you and her in the same room!" He looked at Miroku as he prepared to leave. "Call for me once you've beat some sense into the inugami."

"Inuyasha, please! I will stay here, alright?" Sango pleaded, grabbing his sleeve. "If I think that he's doing anything wrong, I'll call for you. Please, she needs help." He growled, glancing between Sango and the healer. "She needs help that I don't know how to give."

"Fuck!"

"You know that I will not let anything happen to her. Please, just until he's done!"

"I swear, Sango—" he started, but she cut him off.

"I swear on my father's grave, Inuyasha. Believe me, I don't want him here any longer than he has to be." She swallowed, gently touching his shoulder. "I won't let her be hurt."

He shrugged her arm away, growled again, and turned out of the room. He could practically envision the smugness of the man as he ordered Sango to throw a sheet over the taut rope at the top of the doorway. Sango did as she was told, giving him a knowing look. She knew full well that he wasn't going to let that stop him from seeing Kagome and making sure that she wasn't being taken advantage of.

Ears flattening, he remembered what he smelled.

"Inuyasha?" Miroku asked and the half-demon shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them.

"Her head and her leg appear to be the worst ones," Sango stated and the healer quickly removed the bandages, marveling at the strange cloth from Kagome's time. However, he stifled his amazement as he used the buckets to wash the head wound. His fingers carefully moved her hair about as he wiped at the clotted blood with a rag, rinsing and repeating until it appeared clean enough for his liking. Sango insisted on cleansing the wound with the clear liquid from Kagome's time that burned his nose and made his wounds feel like they were on fire. He stitched it up quickly, deftly, faster than any one of them, and applied a green salve that smelled similar to what Kaede used.

At a leisurely pace, they were, what, a week from the village? If he ran straight through, it would take him three or four days to get there. Kaede wouldn't do well on the journey, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, Kagome was in no way fit for travel. Her pulse beat weakly enough as it was.

He wrapped her head, placing an almost obscene amount of cloth over the stitched wound.

"It's a serious wound. You were smart to bandage it and apply pressure." Sango thanked him quietly as he moved to her leg at Sango's insistence. It had already begun to bleed through the wrappings, and he made a 'tsk' sound in his throat.

"There was an arrow. We pulled it out and—"

"I can see, thank you." His tone was sharp, and it made the hair on the back of Inuyasha's neck stand on end.

His eyes darted over to Miroku, who leaned against the wall, staff against his shoulder, as his fingers shifted the beads on the back of his hand. A nervous gesture Inuyasha recognized easily.

"It looks like it didn't hit any major bloodlines, but it needs to be sutured." They worked again, cleansing, stitching and wrapping the wound. "We need more water. Send the inugami to fetch," he announced, and Sango brought the buckets to the doorway.

Before she could ask, he snatched the handles away from her and darted out the door. It didn't take him long, the stream was only a couple bounds away from the building. When he returned, Miroku scowled at the floor, eyes only darting to his for a moment before he schooled himself into feigned neutrality, but the hands still fidgeted with the beads.

"Sango!" He called and heard her rise, pushing the temporary door aside to take the filled buckets from him.

"What is it?" He growled at the monk, his voice low.

"They removed her shirt," Inuyasha bared his fangs, "and from what I gather she's—" He paused as if trying to find the right word.

"It's not good, is it?"

"There are marks. Handprints."

"Where?" He ground out. Clenching his jaw, he struggled to keep his own temper in check.

Miroku's sigh only gave rise to the notion that he wasn't going to like the answer. Idiot. He already knew that he wasn't going to like the answer, and he knew that they hadn't discovered the worst part.

"Her neck seems to have been particularly abused." Continuing despite the increased growling. "Though they haven't finished yet."

"How long has her shoulder been like this?" The healer asked and Inuyasha's eyes darted to the opening in the curtain.

"We're not sure," Sango answered. "Is something wrong?"

"Looks like infection is settling in," he commented. "Why wouldn't you treat a wound like this? It looks like there's dirt rubbed into it." There was a pause in his speech as he dipped a rag into the water and began roughly cleaning the wound. He could see Sango's face pale at his technique, but he smothered the growl that built up in the back of his throat. The healer looked at Sango, glancing over his shoulder only for a moment, before lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. "Are you sure the inugami did not do this?"

Sango reeled back, eyes darting to him. For being human, Miroku acted quickly, grabbing his wrist and jerking him away from the curtain as he'd started to barge in. Miroku quickly shouted as a warning, "Sango!"

Both Inuyasha and Sango turned toward the sound of Miroku's voice. Inuyasha jerked his hand away, still watching through the small opening, and Sango just glowered at the doorway before turning back to the matter at hand. It was a warning not to do anything foolish.

"We know that you would never harm Kagome," Miroku spoke quietly as Inuyasha clenched his fists. But that wasn't the point, was it? Everyone else thought that he was capable of it, and that's really what mattered. They thought that he could hurt her, and he could, but he would never. The thought of it made him physically ill.
He spent a long time working on the wound in her shoulder before finally coating it in the green salve and wrapping it.

"Shouldn't we wrap her ribs?" Sango asked him as he moved further down her body.

"When she wakes, but for now, we don't want to restrict her ability to breathe," he explained, and Inuyasha's ears twitched as they began to remove her skirt. His claws dug into the soft flesh of his palms as he watched. Sango was wiping her down with a cloth, removing the residual dirt and blood from her chest and torso with a rag.

He'd failed her, failed her so badly that it was a stone in his gut. He'd let them do that to her, and she clearly couldn't stop them. He'd failed her—failed her so many times in the past week, that he couldn't even begin to discern where to start and end.

"Oh," that was the only word out of the healer's mouth, but it was enough.

Sango turned towards him, eyes following his gaze. There was clearly evidence remaining of what happened. And Inuyasha could only focus on the emotions flashing across Sango's face. Her eyes widened, her hands bracing herself on the floor, she heaved in air through her mouth.

"No," was the only phrase that escaped before she grabbed a bucket and retched.

"Inuyasha?" Miroku asked, glancing between his face and the curtain that blocked his view. "What's wrong?" But Inuyasha couldn't open his mouth to speak, because this—that was confirmation of what he saw. "Sango?" Miroku called, reaching for the curtain. Inuyasha had his wrist in a vice grip before he could even touch the thin fabric sheet.

"Don't," she called, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She pushed the bucket away and took a steadying breath. "Don't come in." Sango was a great and truly terrifying slayer, one of the last of her kind, but even she had limits.

Miroku paused for just a moment before lightly tugging his hand, encouraging Inuyasha to release it.

"Are you quite done?" The healer asked and Sango nodded, glancing up at the curtain before resuming her work. "Wipe her down. I need to see the damage." Sango nodded, her eyes watering as she wiped them with the back of her hand. He could see her shoulder moving as she dipped and rinsed her rag in the water bucket. At this point, Sango focused and watched him like a hawk as he worked, clearly concerned that he would take advantage of their friend.

"How bad is it?" She asked quietly, as though he couldn't hear her.

"She will heal," he commented and then motioned for Sango to move to her feet.

He could see her body, lying on the floor, but the naked state only served to fuel his repulsion at what he'd allowed to happen. Her abdomen was various shades of blue and green and yellow, swirling with varying degrees of intensity across her chest. He could tell where she'd taken the brunt of the fall on something, probably a branch in that tree. Her lip was split and her cheek bruised and swollen, covering up and over her eye. Her nose wasn't broken, but she'd clearly taken a blow or two there. Hand prints covered her neck and drifted down to her shoulders and collarbone; she'd been beaten. How could she ever stand to look at him ever again? His eyes flicked to Sango pulling off her socks, and even he recoiled at the blood soaking them.

"What?" Miroku asked, and Inuyasha turned away as he saw the blisters filled with blood coating the sides of her feet. He felt queasy again, even though he'd already emptied his stomach. It was becoming too much. He couldn't do this. He couldn't watch anymore. How was she managing to do this? He couldn't handle it. There was too much blood, too many wounds.

"I—"

"Sit," Miroku insisted, pulling at Inuyasha's arm and shoulder to get him to sit against the wall next to the doorway. The command from Miroku made him jerk, but he moved. Why was this too much? Why wasn't his head working right? Why was the air so thin? Miroku shook his shoulder a bit, making Inuyasha's head snap up to meet his gaze. "She's not dead. Whatever it is, she's not dead. That's what you need to remember." Inuyasha stared for just a breath and then nodded. "Say it."

When Inuyasha merely stared, he repeated the order. "Say it, Inuyasha. She's not dead."

"She's not dead," he whispered. Miroku nodded, and he took a breath, patting Inuyasha's shoulder.

"Good," Miroku stated and Inuyasha wasn't sure if that was directed to him or not. "She's not dead. We can handle anything else."

Another short nod and Miroku exhaled slowly.


It was evening before they were finished. The healer pushed the curtain aside, looked down at Inuyasha, sneered, and then moved his gaze to Miroku.

"A word, monk?" He asked.

"Of course," Miroku sputtered a bit, looking at Inuyasha for a response.

"I'll be fine. I'll wait for Sango."

The healer moved to the doorway, and Miroku followed. The moved a few feet from the building, still within hearing range for Inuyasha. Miroku seemed to register this but didn't comment on it, glancing over at the half-demon still slumped against the wall, waiting for permission to enter.

"How is she?" Miroku asked.

"She's unconscious." Inuyasha snorted at the statement. No shit. Even Miroku looked exasperated by the statement. "The trauma to her head is . . . excessive. I've seen patients with injuries like hers, some with lesser ones, who didn't wake from their sleep." The air thinned again as his eyes widened. She might not wake up? That was a possibility?

"Do you think that is the case with her?"

"There is no way to tell except for time." The healer cleared his throat. "There is one more thing that is also troubling me." Miroku's hand tightened on his staff, rings jingling softly. "You are a strong monk, correct?"

"I am well trained in the arts, yes."

"The priestess—I am sure you know what happens to priestesses who are no longer pure?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"The girl—she's no longer," he hesitated, "virginal."

To his credit, the monk held himself together better than any of them did.

"She was—?" Miroku's eyes stared at Inuyasha, and he almost seemed to be regretting standing so close.

The healer nodded and continued, "So you understand my concern then?" Miroku shot the man a bewildered look.

"What are you talking about?" The staff jingled.

"Her holy powers will disappear, will they not? So then, you, as a monk, would be able to purify the inugami? I would assume that the priestess would have a successor already chosen?"

Silence pervaded the air, and Inuyasha's ears flattened on his head. It wasn't often that Miroku lost his temper, but even Inuyasha could tell that he was reaching his breaking point.

"Inuyasha?" Sango called, and he leaned over, to look inside the room. Sango had covered her with a blanket all the way to her chin. "You can come in." He rose to his feet, spared Miroku a glance before walking inside the room. He sat down opposite of Sango, who smoothed down an invisible wrinkle in the blanket. She looked on the verge of tears. "Can you sit with her?" She sniffled. "I need to get more water." She shifted, reaching for the buckets.

"I can—"

"No, it's alright. I—I need—I've been sitting for too long."

He nodded as she stood, taking the buckets with her when she left.

Miroku's voice drifted in through the doorway, stern and full of contention.

"If you will excuse me, I would like to pray for the recovery of our friend. You may want to do the same."

"Is that a threat?" The healer shouted.

"Take it as you will," Miroku grumbled, and it wasn't a moment later that he appeared in the doorway, brows furrowed, and one of the few scowls that Inuyasha had ever seen on his friend's face. He exhaled loudly and moved quietly to sit next to his friend. They both stared at her for a moment before Miroku looked around the room. "Where is Sango?"

"Went to go refill the buckets."

The frown appeared again, and Miroku sighed.

"I'm sure you heard everything?" Inuyasha gave a long, slow nod, and Miroku exhaled slowly. "And Sango knows?" Another nod and another long exhale. "I should go check on her before she does something rash. You will be okay here?"

"Keh."

A light pat on his shoulder and Miroku stood.

"We'll be back." And then he was gone, the reed mat in the doorway lowered and swishing behind him.

He watched her chest move as she breathed. It was steady and even. Her skin remained pale, an unusual pallor for her. He slid his hand underneath the edge of the blanket and gripped hers, dragging it out to hold between his own. Bandaged heavily, it still felt too small and cold between his own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clutching her hand, trying to warm up her fingers with his. "I should've—" He frowned. "If I was better, this never would've happened." He took a breath that came out in an shaky exhale. "Just don't leave. Please don't leave."

The reed mat moved, and his ears flickered towards the noise. Miroku's staff jingled and Sango's muffled sniffling gave them away.

"Inuyasha?" The monk's voice was quiet, reserved, sounding as if he didn't want to intrude.

"In here."

They stepped in, but he kept his face focused on hers.

They spoke, but he didn't really listen.

"Hey Sango?" He asked, interrupting what their conversation, but they both stopped and he felt their eyes on him. "We should put her sleeping bag under the blankets. It would be softer." His voice sounded distant, disjointed almost. But Sango made a noise of assent and brought the sleeping bag over, unrolling it, positioning it just so next to her, rolling the top portion just enough to provide a comfortable support for her head. He tried to position his arms as carefully as he could to make sure that she was supported and wouldn't put pressure or strain any of the stitches or bandages that littered almost her whole entire body. Sango made quick work of the sleeping bag and helped him lower her back down, making sure that the blankets were straight and covered her. He made sure that her head was supported and cushioned by the rolled sleeping bag and that her hair wasn't being pulled taut. There was still some dried blood in her hair, and he stared at his own claws for a moment before flicking it off.

"She'll be alright, my friend," Miroku said, sitting beside him, a hand lightly patting his shoulder.

Inuyasha grunted a reply, ears swiveling back towards the door as footsteps approached.

"Someone's coming."

Miroku stood quickly and headed towards the doorway to intercept whomever was coming their direction. For that, Inuyasha was grateful. Especially since it was the healer.

"I've brought this for her. It will help—eliminate—any remnants of what happened. It may make her ill; it's potent. I also brought something for pain. I need to give her both." Miroku allowed him to enter, and he gave a sideways look at him. Inuyasha was glad that he had tucked her hand back underneath the blankets before he could see.

"Go, dog," the healer sneered at him, and he bared his own fangs in return.

"I'm here, Inuyasha," Sango said, and he took his dismissal as what it was, moving to the other side of the curtain.

They gave her the medicine, and the healer waited to make sure that she didn't spit it back up.

"I've arranged a meal for each of you at the inn. They are expecting you." Inuyasha could see him glancing at the curtain as he spoke. "I would encourage you to not let her pet stay here. The woods are plentiful this time of year. He may try to drain her life and what is left of her reiki. It would be unwise to let him stay."

"I assure you, we take Kagome's care with the highest regards," Miroku answered, cutting off Sango's reply, evident by the sharp consonant that left her mouth.

"Very well. I will return in the morning to check the bandages."

The healer left without so much as another word, passing by Inuyasha with a frown before letting the reed mat swing into place behind him.

"Hey," Inuyasha entered the room as both Sango and Miroku turned towards him. "Go eat. I'll stay here. With her."

"We can—" Miroku started.

"Go. You need food more than I do." He sat down on the opposite side of her as both humans exchanged looks. Miroku sighed and stood first, holding out his hand to Sango.

"Kirara will stay. You can send her if you need something."

"Go," he urged and they both left, hesitantly, but they left. He just needed some time to process everything from the day. He didn't want to talk or sulk in a tree; he didn't want to be that far from her. Ever again, really. How could he even think about letting her out of his sight ever again? At least the cat wouldn't talk.

Kirara trilled beside him, stepping into his lap and curling up to fall asleep.


A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has left comments!