Chapter Text
“Come at me!”
Inuyasha growled, lifted Tessaiga above his head, and ran forward. Sango easily stepped out of the way, catching Tessaiga with her own sword as he brought it down in the space she had been a heartbeat earlier.
“You’re slow!” she said. “I know you can be faster than this.”
“This is a big sword, in case you haven’t noticed!” he snapped. “It’s not exactly easy to handle.”
“You wield it like a club,” Sango replied evenly. “You need to learn more techniques than swinging from above.”
“Back off! I only got this thing a few months ago. I never even touched a sword before that!”
“And I’m very impressed and how far you’ve come on your own,” Sango said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t improve. Come again.”
His ears flicked back and he lunged at her, this time sweeping for her legs. She jumped in the air, and the blade passed harmlessly beneath her. Her own sword gently tapped onto Inuyasha’s shoulder as she jumped.
“You always swing with your full arm,” she observed. “It’s stronger, but if your opponent has any knowledge of swords, it will tell them exactly what you’re planning. Your technique needs to adapt based on who or what you’re fighting.”
Inuyasha huffed and looked away, his eyes catching Miroku’s. The monk was sitting in the shade of a large tree, watching with obvious amusement. Shippo was perched on his knee, eating some berries they had found on the road, and Kirara was curled up asleep in his lap. The kit was watching the training with vested interest, while Miroku had the expression of someone who’d just found something so tragic that it was wonderfully entertaining. Inuyasha growled at them and turned his attention back to Sango.
After another good bout of training, in which Inuyasha almost got close to partially winning against Sango, they decided that they were done for the day. The others gathered their things to make camp, but Inuyasha glanced to the sky, his eyes narrowing.
“There’s the smell of rain in the air,” he said. “We should probably head back to that town we passed earlier and find an inn for the night. I don’t wanna hear you lot complaining about damp clothes for the next three days.”
It turned out to be just in time, as a light downpour was already beginning as they passed into the town. The evidence of a thriving marketplace remained in the town center, even as the vendors were taking down their stands for the upcoming showers. The spectacle caught Miroku’s eye as they passed.
“Perhaps we could stop by the market tomorrow before leaving,” he suggested. “We need to replenish many of our supplies.”
“I guess that’s what we get for being injured all the time,” Inuyasha shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like we have any news about Naraku’s whereabouts.”
Warned from past experiences, the others waited outside while Miroku bought them a room in the local inn for the night. While most of the innkeepers they came upon were ambivalent about their clientele so long as they got paid, it was somewhat safer to buy the room first before discovering how prejudice they were to demons and hanyou. The young woman at the inn politely showed them to their room and said that food and bedding would be brought presently. Miroku informed her that Inuyasha wouldn’t be needing a futon – he preferred to sleep sitting up against the wall – and requested a bowl of fish for Kirara. And possibly some sweets for Shippo.
The evening was relaxed and easy, listening to the first autumn rains pounding down on the roof above. They warmed themselves in front of the fire, chilled from the heavy downpour. They each got a turn in the inn’s bath and took the much-needed opportunity to wash their clothing. Miroku managed to convince Shippo that hanging up their clothes around the fire was the best game he'd ever heard of, so the kit eagerly did most of the work and was beaming at the end of completing the 'puzzle.' Miroku then sat him down and combed through his hair until it was free of knots, just in time for Kirara to take over and add her personal lather of demon cat spit to the kit's unruly locks. Inuyasha and Shippo took turns seeing who could devour more food while holding their breath, and they all turned in early for the night.
The next morning, Miroku was up with the sun and eager to head to the market.
“I don’t know why you’re so excited,” Inuyasha drawled, leaning back against a wall. “It’s just a couple of fruit stands, isn’t it?”
Miroku’s eyes narrowed. “Inuyasha, have you ever been to a market before?”
“Nope,” he replied easily. “I don’t exactly blend in to the crowd.”
“Then we need to explore!” Miroku exclaimed. “You can buy sweets and charms and the most amazing food and there are performances to watch – Sango, help me tell him how entertaining a market can be!”
“I won’t be much help to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “I haven’t been to a proper market before, either.”
“I can’t believe this!” Miroku said, throwing his hands in the air exaggeratedly. “We must amend this at once!”
Inuyasha and Sango exchanged a vaguely amused look as Miroku reached for their hands and dragged them after him through the inn, Shippo and Kirara following close behind. They toured the entire market once all together, with Miroku pointing out what was standard, what was unusual, and what to look for. He bought them all dango from a sweets stand to eat as they walked, and surprised Shippo with a tiny fan which he instantly fell in love with. They watched Miroku expertly haggle down a cloth vendor for uncut bandages and he showed Sango where she could buy oil for Hiraikotsu. He then gave both of them some coins – Shippo wasn’t allowed to make his own financial decisions – and set them free. He watched them disperse before ultimately being drawn together again at a weapons table, where the vendor offered to sharpen their weapons and showed off his collection of whetstones.
Miroku smiled as he watched them, both somewhat out of their element but clearly enjoying all that the market had to offer. He caught glimpses of them as he bought more supplies – Inuyasha leaning over a table of herbs and perfumes as he bought paper for sutras, Sango poking at a collection of small vials while he bought dried meats, Shippo constantly trying to dart off to buy sweets and Kirara dutifully chasing him down. As he looked over a collection of different prayer beads, the woman beside him struck up a conversation. They shared smiles and a few flirtatious looks, and at one point she set her hand down deliberately over his.
Miroku drew her away from the vendor to a slightly more secluded area and turned up the charm. She was the youngest daughter of a prominent family in the town, focused on a study of music but had recently developed an interest in painting as well. Miroku listened intently and shared a few quips about his travels. He told her about his experience with styling characters into artistic shapes, and humbly admitted that he was rather a poor artist otherwise. The young woman naturally insisted that he was just being modest, she was sure that he was amazing - which was kind, but completely untrue - and looked up at him from underneath her lashes.
"It's a shame that I have to leave, as I would love to speak for longer," he said coyly.
"Oh?" she asked, a slight smile on her lips.
"You see, I am looking for a beautiful young woman to have my child," he admitted. He took the uncomfortable knot in his stomach, which formed at the thought of the last time he'd had this same conversation, and instead turned it into bashful shyness which adorned the age-old question like garnish. "Would you do me the honour of bearing that child?"
She laughed delightedly and said of course she’d love to have his child, thinking him merely jesting as so many others had in the past. He breathed a sigh that felt strangely like relief. She waved to him as she left, a smile fixed firmly on her face. She walked passed Inuyasha, who wore a stony expression.
“I don’t get you,” he said, walking over to Miroku. “I never get why you do shit like that. You always talk about how you can’t follow all these aspects of Buddhism, but no one’s forcing you to do that.”
He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. If he was honest with himself, Inuyasha wondered if it was simply that Miroku was sending his attention outside of their little group, in what had been a wonderful day for them all. But something told him that it was more than that. And something unreadable flickered across Miroku’s expression.
“I need to produce an heir to go on and fight Naraku if I fail to defeat him," the monk said in a strangely flat voice.
Inuyasha frowned, detecting the shift in tone but unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. Miroku fixed a smile on his face and placed a hand on Inuyasha’s shoulder as he passed.
“Come on,” he said. “I saw a dumpling stand for lunch.”
They waved down Sango and Miroku bought them all piles of dumplings. He even bought a few extra pig parts for Shippo and Kirara to share. He could see that Sango and Shippo were getting a little overwhelmed with the noise of the marketplace, and drew them all off to a quiet corner to sit for a while. They chatted as they ate, going over the different stands each of them had seen and what had drawn their attention. Shippo pointed out that a play was going to be performed soon, and begged them to let him watch. Miroku smiled indulgently, claiming that they may as well make a day of it.
“Better go back to the inn tonight as well,” Inuyasha said, stretching lazily. “It’s going to rain hard again tonight, and I doubt we’d gain much distance even if we left now.”
The others agreed and followed Shippo to where the small stage was being set up. As they walked, Miroku carefully reached into his robes and checked their funds. They had little left, barely enough to cover the upcoming night of accommodations. He supposed it was somewhat reckless of them to be spending so much in one day, but he didn’t want to deny any of them a little enjoyment. Almost unintentionally, his eyes wandered further down the town square, to the more disreputable area. His gaze wandered past the gambling dens and various dancers’ nooks, towards the brothel. He knew where money was to be made, if they needed it. Miroku shook his head. Such thoughts were better saved for later times. He watched Shippo scurry over to the front of the crowd and sit himself down next to the other children in preparation for the Noh actors coming on stage.
~*~
It was surprisingly easy to waste the day. They watched several performances, sampled all the food to be had, and restocked everything they needed. By the time the rains began again, it was early evening. They made their way back to the inn and were able to get another room without issue. Miroku left to go find them another meal, and Inuyasha huffed, folding his arms.
“That damn Miroku," he muttered. He was still ruffled by the conversation he'd overheard earlier, and for some reason, he couldn't seem to let it go. "He’s always going on about money and then wasting it on dancing women and expensive food.”
“Most of the time he tricks lords or innkeepers into feeding us for free,” Sango pointed out. She shrugged slightly at Inuyasha's peeved expression. “I’m not saying that’s better, I’m just saying.”
“He’s a thief and a conman,” Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “So much better.”
“I can understand why,” Sango said as she rubbed her new oils into Hiraikotsu. “He can’t depend on exorcisms to appear conveniently, and there’s no money in hunting Naraku.”
“Of course not! I’m not saying he doesn’t have good reason,” Inuyasha grumbled. “And I can understand why he would want to enjoy himself a little with dancers and good food. He deserves a little indulgence in his life. I'm just saying it's annoying.”
“And he’s not overindulgent,” Sango added. “He mostly just bends to whatever Shippo wants.”
“Hey!” Shippo exclaimed, then turned away, face red, when the others gave him pointed looks.
“He does look after us,” Inuyasha sighed. “And he’s loyal. At least we can count on him not to spend too much money or get us into trouble with the people here.”
Sango smiled into Kirara’s fur. “He’s a good friend. I'm glad to have him in our group.”
“He deserves better than what he’s got,” Inuyasha murmured, suddenly lost in thoughts that had been plaguing him for some weeks now. “He’s good in a fight and he can hold his own, but he’s so much happier when he’s lying his ass off in a story or just making people smile.”
“I suppose we all do what we have to, to survive,” Sango said, some of the levity fleeing from her face. “We’re lucky we have each other. I can’t imagine doing this alone.”
When Miroku returned, the innkeepers on his heels bearing trays of food, Inuyasha and Sango were looking decidedly sullen. Miroku eyed them both warily before very bravely hiding behind the presentation of food. As the others tucked in with varying degrees of enthusiasm, he watched them all carefully for what might have transpired in his short absence. After discerning that it was nothing pressing, he placed down his bowl.
“The innkeepers were saying that there’s a dance going on just outside,” he said nonchalantly. “Just an informal event, but it might be nice to watch.”
The others shrugged and nodded their agreement, following him to the covered outside area once they were done with their meal. Many of the townspeople who had been at the market had joined together in an impromptu dance, with musicians playing merrily under the protection of a room at the inn. Even as the rain poured outside, people began dancing merrily in the en of surrounding buildings. A little girl who had been beside Shippo at the play waved him over and the two began dancing clumsily in a circle.
Nearby, a mother was sitting with her young baby, who was watching the dancing with wide eyes. Kirara’s ears pricked and she gently padded over, sitting down next to the small family. The mother looked wary, but Miroku followed close behind, and after a few reassuring words, Kirara was gently booping the baby on the nose, making both her and her mother laugh. Sango watched them with amusement until she caught Miroku’s eye. He tilted his head meaningfully towards the dancers and nodded slightly. She vehemently shook her head, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“I wouldn’t know what I’m doing!” she hissed quietly.
“You think they care?” he whispered back. “Half are drunk and the rest are children or over the age of a thousand. Go have fun!”
She glanced back and forth a few times, but with Miroku’s gentle persuasion and Inuyasha’s good-natured cajoling, she eventually joined the dance. A young boy, who couldn’t be more than six, instantly caught her hands and began spinning them both in a circle. Sango’s laughter blended into the music and pounding of feet, and Miroku watched, transfixed.
Sango was beautiful. That was a simple, inescapable fact. Her body moved with a powerful grace whether she was walking, dancing, or fighting. Everything she did seemed to come easily to her, with a combination of natural talent and hard-fought skill that seemed almost effortless. She was a fiery spirit, that shone bright and touched all those around her. And he unquestionably enjoyed her company. He would proposition her if he didn’t think she would kill him for it. But if he was being honest, that wasn’t the only thing holding him back.
His gaze shifted to rest on Inuyasha. The hanyou’s eyes were soft and dancing liquid gold with the light of the setting sun. His face was unusually gentle as his gaze moved from Sango to Shippo to Kirara. Miroku could see the compassion in his eyes. His heartrate jumped and he instantly looked away, not wanting to draw suspicion from the very man he'd been watching. It was impossible to tell how much Inuyasha had already guessed, given away through the emotions somehow detectable in his scent. Then again, he suspected that he would be able to tell if Inuyasha knew. The hanyou wasn’t terribly subtle in his emotions. The disgust would be difficult to hide.
He didn’t know exactly how or when it started. All he knew was he’d been consumed by his feelings towards his friend for several weeks at this point and they weren’t going away. He had grown to respect Inuyasha quickly when they first met. He deeply appreciated and relished in his fierce loyalty, unexpected care, and subtle wry humour. And of course, his beautiful form. Inuyasha was a creature designed to kill and he did so almost effortlessly. Yet he could also be so gentle, so careful with his companions. And it was there, in the balance between deadly force and bright, aware control that Miroku suspected he’d fallen.
Through the evening and into the night, Miroku made sure to keep his wandering gaze in check. When they made their way back to their room, it seemed that Inuyasha could tell that something was amiss. He sat close to Miroku while he inked new sutras, their thighs pressed together. His warm amber eyes followed Miroku's movements with keen interest, something which seemed driven not only by concern, but also a natural curiosity. Miroku found himself wondering how he had ever, ever thought that the hanyou was apathetic or simply disinterested. He couldn't think of a single instance in the past two months where Inuyasha hadn't watched him while he worked or keenly listened to him explaining something. The attention definitely wasn't helping his growing feelings.
Shippo was utterly riled up from the dance, and ran around the room for a good long while before the long day caught up to him. He was asleep barely a moment later, sprawled out on Sango’s bed. The rest of them stayed awake a while longer, not wanting the day to end just yet. Miroku leaned heavily onto Inuyasha's side while he bullied Sango into letting him brush out her hair. But as the music died down outside, and the sound of the rain returned, they reluctantly gave in to the heavy weight of their eyelids. Sango grabbed Kirara and Miroku grabbed Shippo, and after they'd buried into their blankets, they slept soundly under the watchful eyes of Inuyasha.
~*~
"At least we're alive," one of the old farmers snapped outside at his friend's whining.
"Face it, we're better off wielding sickles and hoes than swords," his friend insisted.
"Maybe so, but at least we're lucky enough that we can go home at the end of this," the farmer grumbled. "We should all be grateful for that priestess."
Kikyo pressed her lips together and remained focused on her task, a younger man with an punctured leg from an arrow. The wound was deep and already infected. She crushed some herbs into a poultice to place on the wound once she changed the bandages. Behind her, another man had finally woken from a days-long slumber, and was speaking quietly with his companions inside the hut she'd commandeered.
"You'd better start kissing some ass, Yohei," one of the other farmers-turned-soldiers told the recovering man. "Her medicine's started working."
She turned and smiled at Yohei, who was shoving his companion away while blushing furiously. She turned her gaze back to her current patient, and frowned. A small, skeletal youkai was hunched over the man's chest, reaching for his forehead with a clawed hand. Another messenger of the underworld seeking to steal lives before their time. She reached over and dissolved the youkai into dust.
"What about Taiga?" the group of friends asked her, peering over her shoulder at the young man.
"He'll be alright," she reassured them. "He will likely wake tomorrow, and be free of fever after that."
"You are a goddess," one of the men breathed reverently, only to be smacked by one of his companions.
A shout came from the older farmers outside, and Kikyo rose smoothly to her feet. A group of five samurai were marching towards the hut, and the leader met and held her gaze pointedly.
"You there," the leader called out, the party coming to a stop just outside the hut. "Are you the healer who tends to all soldiers, disregarding which lord they serve? The one with a sorceress's powers?"
"No powers, kensei-sama," she corrected politely and lied easily. "Only medicinal knowledge. I am no match for even a trained physician."
"You can explain yourself at the castle," the samurai huffed, not easily flattered. "You're coming with us."
They had brought a mikoshi with them, a palanquin better suited for the highest level of religious services than for transporting a simple healer, or a miko. She didn't resist as the leader pointedly held out a hand to help her up. He walked beside the mikoshi as they moved, the other four samurai carrying the heavy shrine.
"My Lord Kagewaki requested you specifically," the leader spoke quietly, his eyes on the ground. He looked harrowed. "He has been in delicate health since birth, but he recently became the head of the house after the sudden death of his father. His condition has steadily worsened and yet he won't let physicians near him, not even his own vassals. You are the first person he was willing to see."
"Have you served his house for long?" Kikyo asked. She could feel that it was her purpose to go to this castle with these men, though she did not yet know why.
"For two years now, miko-sama," he said somberly. "I was present at my lord's father's death - or at least, what we believed to be his death at the time. You see, he was possessed by a demon. Only my Lord Kagewaki realized it, and even then, it was too late to save his father, or several others. Now I fear that we may lose Lord Kagewaki as well."
He spoke with a heavy heart, more freely than he was likely supposed to. There was a faint trail of malevolence around him and his companions, though she didn't think it originated from them.
When they reached the castle, there was a definite demonic aura surrounding it. Two guards blocked access through the main gate, their expressions pinched and haggared.
"No one may pass!" one of the guards shouted at them. "Our orders are to-"
"To deny any but the priestess who will cure the lord," the samurai cut him off. "Who we've found and secured. Let us through."
"He forbid entry to anyone," the guard barked, but there was a pleading note to his eyes.
The samurai pushed past the guards and brought her to the main entrance. The samurai gestured for her to enter and then turned to talk down the agitated guards. The very air tasted of evil. She walked through the halls in absolute silence, not stirring the deadened breeze or the decaying peace of the castle. A shroud hung over the grounds, but the seeping malaise was centered around the young lord's chamber. She pushed aside the curtain at the entrance of his room. He lay on a mat, pale and still. There was no beating of his heart, no pulse within his body from the neck down, and yet his startlingly red eyes snapped to hers immediately.
"My lord!"
Shouts came from behind her as the guards rushed to stop her entry.
"She refuses to stay away!" one of them rushed to explain. "We think she bewitched the samurai!"
"Leave," the lord spat, and the guards shrank back in tandem. They bowed and scurried away. He refused to break her gaze. "You," he rasped instead. "What is your name?"
She knelt down beside him. She knew this presence. "Kikyo."
There was genuine fear in his eyes. From what she knew of him, that was both surprising and not.
"Do you wish me to heal your illness, my lord?" she asked, a note of mocking in her voice.
He did not answer.
"Or perhaps you wanted something different?" she prompted once more. "It has been some time, after all."
It was the samurai who ended up dragging her away, though she didn't resist. The guards pushed their theory that she had bewitched them all to try and kill the lord. He had become even sicker from her powers, so the story went. She did not say any different. She did not try to escape. She didn't think she could leave, even with an open door in front of her. Not now that she had looked into the eyes of the man who had killed her. Now that she knew exactly who he was, and what he wanted. And most importantly, she knew why she could not leave this mortal plane. Still, she felt his presence leave the castle. She did not know if he fled from her, or if the developing magics she had sensed floating around him had finally come to fruition. All she knew was that she had to go after him.
Her demons stole the souls from the guards and the samurai alike for her to consume. She followed the trail of intangible power through the forest and fields, through night and day and night once more. Past the dead bodies of the farmers she had treated. Past the villages were they'd been conscripted, still ravaged by war. The scent of miasma permeated the air, and as she approached his newest hiding place, she knew what she had to do.
~*~
The next morning, they set off bright and early. There were reports of crop failures in a nearby village, which might be a sign of a strong demonic presence, and that was as good a destination as any. As they approached the fields surrounding the village, it was obvious that the autumn harvest was ruined. The plants were shriveled and sickly, and the earth had a reddish-brown colour too it. Inuyasha, Shippo, and Kirara all wrinkled their noses the closer they got to the village, the overwhelming scent of demon blood growing ever stronger.
As soon as they reached the village, a group of villagers rushed to them, talking over one another frantically. They recognized Miroku as a monk and Sango as a slayer, and begged for their aid. They were led to the chief’s house, where the man stepped out to meet them. He looked haggard and exhausted. The roofs of all the houses were stained a deep, rusty red, and dark liquid dripped from the leaves of the trees.
“It started ten days ago,” the chief said, urging them to sit on the en. “The rains turned red, the plants withered, and demon body parts fell from the sky. It's only been getting worse”
“It was awful!” one of the farmers interjected from behind him. “And not just that – it completely ruined all of our fields.”
“Would that it was only the fields,” an elderly man shook his head. “The old, the young, the weak, so many have become sickened. We fear that they may die if this continues any longer.”
“I should think so,” Miroku nodded solemnly. “There is a very strong miasma in this area. My companions and I shall discover the source.”
The crowd of villagers practically mobbed them, each spilling their theory of what had happened and their suggestions on how to deal with the problem. One common theme was a nearby mountain that appeared to be the center of the blood rain and miasma storms. They decided not to wait, and to head over to the mountain immediately. As they left through the other side of the village, the devastation only grew. Trees were stripped bare, the grass was dead, and the ground had turned to a thick, muddy clay.
“So we’re just gonna go chasing after this demon?” Inuyasha grumbled as they walked. “Do we have time for this? What about Naraku, huh? Or does he not matter anymore?”
“No one’s forgotten anyone,” Miroku said firmly. “But we have no idea where he might be. This may be a hint of his whereabouts.” The others glanced at him in surprise. “The villagers said that the demon parts began appearing ten days ago. That’s just after we fought Naraku and wounded him. It’s possible that this might have something to do with him. Besides,” he reached sheepishly into his robes. “I’ve already accepted payment for services rendered.”
“When’d that happen?” Inuyasha spluttered. “We haven’t even done anything yet! The paying part don’t usually come until afterward.”
“People can be stingy once they’ve already gotten what they wanted,” Miroku shrugged.
Inuyasha rolled his eyes and looked over to Sango for support. Instead, they saw her staring at the mountain ahead of them, a grim expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Inuyasha asked, instantly sobering and stepping to her side.
“That miasma is the strongest I’ve ever seen,” she said, glancing between them. “The only other time I’ve seen any as powerful was around Naraku. Do either of you know of any other demons capable of producing anything so poisonous?”
They nodded with grim determination as they took her point and Inuyasha unsheathed Tessaiga, resting it over his shoulder. They walked up to the base of the mountain, the miasma and youki growing stronger with every step. Kirara transformed for Sango to ride on her back. Miroku leaned more heavily on his staff, the demonic presence making him nauseous and lightheaded. Long, narrow stone paths wound up the side of the mountain, and Inuyasha quietly took the lead as they began their ascent. He didn't wander more than a few steps on front of the others at a time. The sky was darkened with what could be rainclouds, but had a distinct purple tint.
“There’s nothing alive around here,” Shippo murmured in a quiet, scared voice, clinging tightly to Sango. He was looking at the dead grass and twisted, broken trees which lined the base of the mountain. There were no bird calls or insects flittering around.
“We’re almost there,” Inuyasha said, narrowing his eyes at the path before them. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t like it.”
He stopped, swinging Tessaiga out before him. What appeared to be the entrance of an old mining shaft was built into the side of the mountain. As well as the overpowering youki, the smell of demons, miasma, and blood wafted strongly from the tunnel. It was a potent mixture, enough to make Inuyasha gag reflexively.
“This is bad,” Inuyasha said, creeping towards the entrance before reeling back. “I’ve never felt anything like this. You all should wait out here.”
“That might be Naraku,” Miroku argued. “Or one of his traps. There’s no way you’re going in alone.”
“That miasma’s too strong for a human!” Inuyasha growled warningly. “You won’t last half-way into that tunnel.”
“I have training to resist miasmas,” Miroku said. “And Sango has her mask. We should-”
He cut himself off as an awful, wracking cough sounded from behind them. Sango was gripping tightly to Kirara’s fur, her face deathly pale. As they watched, she curled over and fell from the twin-tail’s back.
“Sango!” Miroku shouted, running over to her.
“I’m fine…” she gasped, clinging onto his sleeve.
“You’re not,” Miroku frowned. “You’re still weakened from the miasma at the castle. It will only get stronger in the tunnel. You should put on your mask and wait out here.”
“But Naraku…” she started, before doubling down into another coughing fit.
“We don’t know for certain that he’s even in there,” Miroku insisted. “And you can’t fight him if you’re dead.”
“Sango, you stay here with Shippo and Kirara,” Inuyasha said, cracking his knuckles. “There’s no sense dragging everyone through this.”
“Kirara, are you alright?” Miroku asked, receiving a nod in response. “If the miasma becomes too much, take everyone back to the village. Shippo,” he turned to the kit. “The miasma doesn’t seem to bother you. Watch over them.”
“Leave everything to me!” Shippo chirped bravely, then glanced over to the tunnel entrance with wide eyes. “But promise you’ll be careful. This miasma is pretty strong.”
“I’ll be fine,” Miroku said reassuringly, standing and making his way over to Inuyasha.
“Will you?” Inuyasha shot back. “What kind of training keeps you safe from this poison?”
“I’ve been preparing to fight Naraku my entire life,” Miroku said quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Fine,” Inuyasha grumbled, grabbing onto Miroku’s sleeve and pulling him after him into the tunnel. “But you’d better not die on me.”
Sango watched them disappear into the darkness with worried eyes. She had taken out her mask and held it carefully to her face. She knew that both Shippo and Kirara were carefully watching her and each other. As demons, they had better natural defenses against demonic miasma, but Shippo was just a child, and Kirara had been so near death after the fight at the castle. Even after a week of eating Jinenji's herbs daily, the twin-tail was still not fully recovered. At this rate, they would need to go back and get even more.
Sango suddenly realized that they had been incredibly, profoundly stupid. They should have taken enough herbs from Jinenji’s garden to last them a month. They should have returned to her village so that she could make them all iron masks to protect them against poisons and smoke. They had been wasting their time wandering around the countryside and going to markets, and yet they were entirely unprepared to actually face Naraku. If they survived this, she would ensure that they had all they needed. They couldn’t continue on as they had been.
“The youki’s getting stronger,” Shippo whispered, wrapping an arm around her calf. “It’s like I’m being pulled in to the tunnel. Something bad must be happening.”
~*~
Inuyasha crept through the tunnel, his head low to avoid the rocks protruding around them. He kept one hand firmly planted on Miroku's arm. It was mostly to help him balance and to make sure they didn't get separated, but he'd be lying to himself if he denied how closely he was listening to the monk's heartbeat. The miasma was far from deadly for a hanyou, but it was thick and foul, and he didn't know how well humans could tolerate it. As thick as it was, it also didn't obscure the unnatural hue of the tunnel. The light was low, but brighter than it should have been if it was only lit from the outside. Something much deeper in the tunnel was casting an unearthly red and purple glow into the cave. Still, Inuyasha found himself stumbling more often than not on the dimly lit, uneven floor of the tunnel, especially with one hand holding onto Tessaiga and the other latched onto Miroku. And the miasma just grew stronger with every step, and even Inuyasha began to feel lightheaded.
And then Miroku coughed, stumbled, and sank to his knees, his free hand planted firmly over his mouth and nose.
“Miroku?” Alarm coursed through Inuyasha as he grasped Miroku’s arm tighter, trying to pull him up. “Damn it all, you said you could handle it! I’m taking you back to wait with Sango!”
“No, I can stay and I will,” Miroku gasped, wincing in pain. “It’s just- I have to go a bit slower. My training has given me some endurance.”
“Training,” Inuyasha spat. “Monk training won’t make you any less dead when the miasma gets you.”
“Mine does,” Miroku muttered, grasping Inuyasha’s arm and pulling himself upright. “I’ve built up tolerance to as many poisons as possible, including demonic miasma. I can handle it better than other humans.”
“The hell kind of training is that?” Inuyasha asked, wrapping his arm around Miroku’s waist to steady him and take some of his weight. “How- and why- and when?”
“My father and Mushin wanted me to be as prepared as possible,” Miroku shrugged, urging them both slowly forward. “From a young age, they exposed me to extreme heat and cold, periods without rest, food, or water, and various poisons. I have twelve years of tolerance built. It’s how I’ve been able to stay alive so long.”
A deep frown slashed over Inuyasha’s face. Twelve years? He realized he had to ask, something he’d wanted to know for a long time but had been afraid to learn. “Miroku, how old are you?”
“Eighteen.” He paused at Inuyasha’s shocked expression. “What?”
“That’s…” Inuyasha blinked, his heart clenching. “That’s so young!”
Miroku shrugged. “Not especially, for humans. Sango’s sixteen.”
“She’s sixteen?” Inuyasha spluttered. “Since when?”
“Since last year, I assume,” Miroku said, his wry smile clashing horribly with his pale, sweat-speckled skin. “I made the cunning deduction when she mentioned that her first mission was when she was eleven, and then said she had five years of experience.”
“You’re so young,” Inuyasha shook his head. “Not even twenty. Most demons are still babies when they’re twenty – hell, Shippo’s only fifty!”
Miroku nodded slowly. He’d suspected something similar, though it was still odd to think that Shippo was only about ten or fifteen years younger than Kaede. He glanced over at his companion and his eyes narrowed. “Inuyasha, how old are you?”
Inuyasha tilted his head, thinking. “I was about a hundred and fifty when Kikyo pinned me to the tree, so I don’t know if those added fifty years really count or not.”
“Even if they don’t, that’s remarkable,” Miroku breathed. “I can’t imagine what you must have seen through those years. What you must have been through.”
“It is odd,” Inuyasha said softly, his eyes growing distant. “Growing up around humans, seeing how quickly their lives seem to move. It’s almost like I’m living in a different time from them.” He frowned and tugged Miroku closer. “Which is why I need to keep you lot from dying even faster than normal.”
“I support this plan,” Miroku grinned tightly.
Strange noises drew both their attention further down the tunnel. They crept forward, Inuyasha keeping a careful eye fixed on Miroku, ready to drag him back outside at any moment. The end of the tunnel slowly came into view, as it opened out into apparently open space inside the mountain. As they reached the other end of the tunnel, they saw an absolutely gigantic cavern stretching out in all directions. It was as though the entire inside of the mountain had been hollowed out. Far above them, the sky was visible through the open top of the shell. Far below, a swirling pit was overflowing with purple liquid and littered with dozens of demon corpses. At several points around the cave, fires were burning along the walls and floor of the cavern, adding their light to the ethereal glow of the strange concoction on the floor.
“What is that?” Inuyasha breathed, his voice tight.
“Demon remains?” Miroku wondered aloud, glancing at the many different types of demons visible, in all different stages of decomposition.
As they watched, the liquid began swirling in earnest, stirring together all the demon parts into a whirlpool before they were sucked down below the surface. Something rose from the middle of the pool, still covered in the solidifying liquid until giant red arms burst forth. A gargantuan demon emerged from the sea of bodies. It was as tall as a tree, a humanoid shape to its strangely elongated body that was topped with hundreds of dark purple scales and yellowed claws. Its serpentine mouth held three rows of pointed teeth, and several pairs of short horns crowned its birdlike head. A long, serpentine tail held dozens of poisonous barbs with a terrifying stinger at the end of it. It was strangely mottled, with each part a slightly different colour as though they'd been stuck on to the demon's body.
Another whirlpool began at the other side of the cavern, and a second giant demon emerged. This one was reptilian, with a green lizard’s head, a powerful crushing mouth, and four long, powerful legs. Its back was covered by rows upon rows of blue crystalline spines which shimmered like glass under the unnatural light. It rushed forward, clamping down on the arm of the first demon with gargantuan jaws. The first demon cried out, slamming a giant fist into the reptilian demon’s head to dislodge it. The two began circling each other, both looking for an opening.
Inuyasha and Miroku shared a horrified expression as the demons continued to battle, slowly tearing each other to pieces. Neither spoke other than the occasional grunt or growl, and neither seemed to want to go on the offensive. In fact, there was little aggression in either demon's stance, and each looked more like they were cornered by the other. But that didn't mean that either was backing down. The first demon shattered many of the spines along the other’s back. The reptilian demon bit off the first demon’s arm. More lightly built and agile, the first demon grabbed the reptilian demon’s neck with its remaining hand and bit down, sending them both crashing into the pool below them.
“There must have been a battle,” Miroku muttered faintly. “Hundreds of them fighting, killing, dying… The losers’ bodies were thrown into here – what’s left of their bodies, that is.”
“But there’s gotta be a reason,” Inuyasha breathed, stunned by the events transpiring before his very eyes.
The two demons emerged, tangled around each other in a deathlock. The first demon pulled out of the jaws of the other and in a single, powerful blow, snapped its neck. It tore the reptilian demon’s head off and hurled it into the cavern wall. It, and the dead demon’s body, fell back into the pool. The waters began swirling once more, covering the first demon as well. When the first re-emerged, it had a longer face with larger teeth, reptilian scales, and crystal-like spines along its back.
“The last one standing…” Miroku started.
“Gets to keep all the parts,” Inuyasha finished grimly.
“I’m still here!” the demon shouted into air. “The promise was that the final winner would leave this place alive. Why can’t I get out?”
Miroku reeled back, head spinning. He recognized this spell. He knew this sorcery. And if the rules dictated that there could only be one victor, then-
“Unless,” the demon hissed, slinking around to catch the two of them in its red-eyed gaze. “I’m not yet the final winner…”
“Not yet you’re not!” Inuyasha snarled, drawing Tessaiga.
“Inuyasha, wait!” Miroku gasped, grasping at his shoulder.
The demon reached out with a hand, sweeping it into the tunnel and almost catching them both. Inuyasha slammed his body into Miroku’s, sending them both crashing to the ground and barely avoiding the grasping claws. Inuyasha growled ferociously and leapt away, out of the tunnel and into the cavern. Miroku was left with one hand outstretched and a sinking feeling in his gut. He hoped and prayed that he was wrong.
~*~
“They’re taking too long,” Sango said, climbing slowly to her feet. “You two stay here. I’m going to go after them.”
“You can’t!” Shippo said, catching her arm as she stumbled to the ground. “You’re still too weak from before! You’ll die in there! And the miasma here is only making you worse!”
Shippo went rigid, his hands clutching even tighter to her wrist. Sango followed his gaze down the mountain path, through the miasma which had settled like a cloud around them. The silhouette of a figure emerged, slowly clearing into that of a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in miko’s clothing and was armed with a longbow and quiver full of arrows. She surveyed them all coolly before turning her attention to the tunnel entrance.
“Is Inuyasha inside?” she said, almost as though musing to herself. She didn’t wait for a response before walking past and into the tunnel.
“Who was that?” Sango asked Shippo as soon as she’d gone, but the little fox had gone pale and wide-eyed.
“That’s Kikyo!” he gasped, his eyes glued to the tunnel entrance.
“Kikyo?” The name was vaguely familiar. “The priestess who once guarded the Shikon Jewel? The one killed by Naraku?”
“Yeah, but she isn’t dead,” Shippo frowned. “Or, not entirely? She was revived by this old ogre demon and now she’s sustained by the souls of the dead maidens brought to her by her soul collectors and she wants to kill Inuyasha so they can be together forever because they used to be in love and Inuyasha still loves her and also she stole Miroku’s soul one time.”
Sango blinked and looked back at the tunnel entrance, a cold, hard ball of dread forming in her gut. This didn’t sound like something that Inuyasha and Miroku could handle alone. After the castle, in the storehouse when they thought she was asleep, Miroku had said that Naraku had tricked Inuyasha and Kikyo the same way that he had deceived her and Kohaku. She had heard tales from her village of the immense spiritual powers that Kikyo possessed, unmatched by any other than Midoriko herself. Sango had no idea why Kikyo might be here, but she doubted it was good.
“I have to go after them,” she said, pushing to her feet.
This time, it was Kirara who stopped her. She placed herself in front of Sango and growled ferociously, something she had never, ever done to Sango before.
“Kirara…” Sango chided, reaching out to touch her, but Kirara only spat and hissed, arching her back into a deeper growl. “I need to know if they’re alright.”
Kirara growled once more and turned, walking pointedly toward the tunnel entrance herself.
“But the miasma,” Sango said worriedly. “Will you be okay?”
Kirara nodded determinedly, blinked at Shippo, and disappeared into the tunnel.
~*~
The demon spewed miasma from its mouth as Inuyasha leapt towards it, Tessaiga raised above his head. He cut through the cloud, but the giant’s hand caught him from the side, sending him flying down into the pool of liquid. He broke the surface gasping, struggling to keep his head up as the thick, viscous fluid tried to drag him down. The demon was reaching for him and he dug Tessaiga into its hand, holding on as the demon reared back in pain and using the force to pull himself from the liquid. He ran up its arm and leapt onto its head. The demon shouted and twisted through the air, trying to dislodge him. He jumped from its back and onto the cavern wall, turned, and sprang back at the demon. He sliced his way down its shoulder and chest, landing safely on a rocky portion of the ground, out of the borders of the pool.
He lifted Tessaiga for the finishing blow. Instead, a cloud of miasma lifted from the pool, circling around the demon like a swarm and seeping into its injuries. When the smog cleared, the wound was gone. The demon glared at him and laughed menacingly.
“Inuyasha, no!” Miroku called from the tunnel entrance above. “Stay your sword – don’t fight!”
“I have to!” Inuyasha shouted back. “If I don’t, I’ll be killed!”
“Then stand back. I’m going to suck in this demon.”
His hand was already reaching for his mala beads. Inuyasha’s breath froze in his chest. “Don’t you dare! The wind tunnel isn’t fully healed. Besides, you can barely breathe this miasma. If you suck it in, you’ll be dead before you can close your hand. Just let me fight!”
“You can’t!” Miroku shook his head in frustration. “Listen to me! This is similar to a technique called Fuko. It’s how you make a creature called Kodoku!”
Inuyasha leapt out of the way of the demon’s sweeping claws. “Start making sense, Miroku! What’s your point?”
“It’s a kind of sorcery. You have poisonous worms, lizards, spiders – whatever – together in a pot until they kill each other off. The last remaining alive then becomes a creature called Kodoku.”
“And…?”
“You’re the only one left!” the Kodoku roared at him. “Once I kill you, I will be the winner and can live to get out of here!”
The demon threw his head back and then hurled a fireball at Inuyasha. He swore and leapt out of the way, singeing his hair in the process.
“I don’t have a choice but to fight!” Inuyasha shouted, hoping that Miroku was about to come up with a creative solution real fast.
“Fight while I think of something, but don’t win or lose,” Miroku instructed firmly. “If you kill that demon, you’ll become fused with it and the remains of all the others!”
Inuyasha swore and dodged another attack. Miroku watched helplessly. There was nothing he could do! He had no idea how to break the Fuko spell. It was ancient sorcery, strong magic and well beyond his own expertise. But he had to do something! Inuyasha couldn’t keep up that pace against the Kodoku for long, and with every breath, more miasma worked its way into both their systems.
A cold hand closed over Miroku’s heart, but strangely, it had nothing to do with Inuyasha’s impending fate. It felt as though something deep inside of himself was being pulled, grasped from outside. A faint, white light emerged from his chest, snaking through the air and back behind him. He could sense her presence, see the light from her body, feel the tug at his soul as she came to stand behind him. Kikyo’s face was blank and cold as she peered past Miroku into the cavern. But there was the hint of something in her expression, a flicker cross her face as her eyes fell on Inuyasha. Miroku cast a glance back at the battle and caught the moment that Inuyasha saw her. His eyes widened, his ears flicked back, and he looked struck. Hopeful. Heartbroken. Lost.
The bright white light dancing along Kikyo’s body flared even brighter. One-by-one, souls were ripped from her body and flew into the demon. The youki was drawing them from her, growing stronger every moment the Fuko spell remained in place. Her face was twisted in a silent scream. Miroku reached for her, but then light flashed around his own body, her attempts to pull the souls back dragging at his own through the connection they shared. She stumbled forward, blinded by pain. He tried to grab her, but his own soul was starting to slip through his fingers. She fell. Inuyasha screamed.
She tumbled down the rocky sides of the cavern and rolled to a stop. If she were still human, still alive, the fall might have killed her. As it was, she appeared to be unconscious. Inuyasha was running for her, mindless of the demon’s attacks. A giant hand sent him flying, and he crashed into the wall of the cavern. He gasped, ribs screaming, air ripped from his lungs, a name on his lips.
The Kodoku grasped for Inuyasha in increasingly powerful swipes. Miroku’s vision was growing blurry. His soul was securely in his body, but the force of holding it back had left him open to the power of the youki in the cave. He could feel it draining his energy, letting the miasma take its toll on his body more quickly than before. Kikyo’s souls had also thickened the poison in the air, feeding into the youki in a vicious cycle. He coughed into his hand, only mildly surprised to see it come away with specks of blood. The combined youki stretched from the Kodoku, the remains, Inuyasha…and something else. Miroku screwed his eyes closed, forcing himself to open his senses as much as possible. He almost fainted as the demonic aura grew impossibly stronger.
Sure enough, there was a horribly familiar presence. Somewhere, Naraku was nearby. And from the faint shimmer of spiritual power cutting through the youki, Miroku knew that he had the Jewel shards with him. He also knew that it was the least of their worries at the moment. Something was approaching from behind, and Miroku swung around with his staff. Kirara easily dodged the weak blow and ran up to him, worriedly nudging at him with her nose.
“I know, it’s bad,” he sighed. She glanced over at Inuyasha, at the fearsome battle raging below them. She cried out and jumped to help. Miroku grabbed her by the tails. “No! If you go down, the spell will take you, too.” She glanced between him and Inuyasha, obviously torn. “Listen, Kirara. You need to go back. Get Sango and Shippo far away from here. Things are about to get much worse.”
She looked wildly unconvinced, but he shoved her back down the tunnel. After one last glance, she took off running in the direction she had come. Miroku only hoped that she and the others would be safe. He turned his attention back to the cavern, where Inuyasha had been frantically keeping the Kodoku from Kikyo. It wasn’t going well. Inuyasha’s movements were slowed from exhaustion and miasma as the battle dragged on and on.
“She will become a part of me!” the Kodoku insisted, reaching for Kikyo once more.
“You keep that filthy hand off of her!” Inuyasha shouted, severing the demon’s arm at the elbow with Tessaiga.
Miroku frowned. Another hand was already re-growing from the stump, the demon cackling at its good fortune. Inuyasha was leaping for Kikyo, trying to reach her, but the new hand slammed him to the ground.
“Inuyasha, no!” Miroku shouted, but it was no use.
“I have to protect Kikyo!” Inuyasha’s wild gaze met Miroku’s and there was pleading in his eyes. “Miroku- I have to!”
The demon lunged forward once more. Inuyasha met the strike with Tessaiga’s flashing blade. Miroku took a deep breath and tipped himself forward off the ledge and into the cavern. He skidded down the steep walls, catching himself on as many rocks as he could to break his fall on the way to the ground. He ended the journey battered but standing. He had to get to Kikyo. Inuyasha would never leave if she was still there. He had no idea if she was part of the Fuko spell – or if he had just emerged himself in it as well, having passed into the cavern. All that could wait until later. He just needed to get to Kikyo.
She lay unmoving on the cold stone ground. He knelt beside her and lifted her onto his lap, drawing a faint groan from her lips.
“Are you conscious?” he asked, not in the mood for pleasantries. “Can you stand?”
“You fool,” she muttered, her eyes sliding open to stare blankly ahead. “By coming here, you risk Inuyasha losing you forever.”
What? What did- She knew. Miroku realized she knew. Her eyes met his and there was something approaching understanding in her gaze. She looked sad. He could understand why. She shifted away from him and lifted to her feet, reaching for the bow that had fallen with her.
“He’s fighting to protect you,” Miroku said firmly. “You need to come with me. We need to get you out of here.”
She turned to glare at him, cold, fiery hatred in her eyes. His voice died in his throat. There was a cry from across the cavern. Inuyasha had slashed open the demon’s chest, a killing blow.
“Inuyasha, no!” Miroku screamed, the words torn from his throat. “Don’t kill it!”
Inuyasha leapt, Tessaiga above his head, glowing golden with its ultimate power.
“Inuyasha!”
An arrow flaming with the pink light of spiritual power struck the sword, glancing off the blade before flying up, into the open space at the peak of the mountain far above. It pierced through the barrier sealing it and shot into the sky above. The barrier burst into a blinding light, the Fuko spell dissolving. Inuyasha landed on the other side of the pool, Tessaiga transformed back in his hand. But he only had eyes for Kikyo. Her eyes met his across the cavern that separated them as she slowly lowered her bow.
A rumbling came from underneath them. A powerful vortex opened above the mountain, sucking up everything – the pool, the demon parts, the Kodoku, them. The youki was fading quickly, the miasma disintegrating around them. Inuyasha sprang off the wall and crashed into Miroku, holding on with everything he had as they were both lifted into the air. The cries of the dying Kodoku sounded from above them. Inuyasha reached out with one hand to snag onto the demon’s arm and dug in with his claws. He swung his body over Miroku’s, pressing him down and shielding him as much as he could.
“Kikyo!” Miroku gasped and Inuyasha’s eyes snapped up to see her lying not far from them, clinging to the remains of another demon.
The collection of demons, humans, and hanyou burst from the top of the mountain and began falling to one side, drawn in by a powerful force. Inuyasha could just make out a figure sitting cross-legged on the rocky ledge. He didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. He grabbed Miroku by the waist and launched them both off the Kodoku, casting out his youki to break their fall. Inuyasha twisted them as they fell so that his back slammed into the ground, Miroku safely on his chest. White light burst from Naraku and enveloped all the demon parts that soared towards him, including the Kodoku. The demons all settled into Naraku, condensing down into a new, powerful body. He glowed with powerful youki before it, too, became a part of him.
“That’s what the Kodoku was for,” Inuyasha breathed. “He had them craft him the perfect form.”
“The mountain mist lured you,” Naraku said, his eyes snapping open to survey them coolly. “You took the bait, and I cast my spell. You could have joined me in here, Inuyasha, if only you had the courage.” He glanced down at the figure lying at his feet. “So this is the woman who restored me to life. She gifted me this new form.”
“She broke the spell to save Inuyasha from your trap,” Miroku growled at him. “You pretentious bastard!”
As he spoke, he tapped his mala beads lightly with his left hand. Inuyasha’s eyes darted from them to Kikyo before nodding imperceptibly. If he could just get her away from that monster…
Naraku bent down to pick up Kikyo on his arms. “And yet, I still know her to be the foolish woman who followed you in death fifty years ago.”
“No, don’t you dare!” Inuyasha snarled, rushing forward with Tessaiga drawn. “Don’t you touch her, now or ever!”
Naraku didn’t bother to move. Tessaiga swung at his head and struck an invisible barrier. Sparks flew from the blade and a cloud of miasma burst out of it, flinging Inuyasha back. The cloud grew in all directions as Naraku launched into the air, Kikyo still held securely in his arms. Inuyasha growled, his sleeve covering his nose. Damn it all! That bastard… How dare he! He spun around, to where Miroku was gasping for breath against the new wave of miasma. He swung the monk onto his back without a word and leapt down the side of the mountain, careening from ledge to ledge down to the ground, following Kirara’s scent. They would meet up with the others, and then they would give chase. They would save Kikyo from the clutches of that monster! And Naraku wouldn’t escape this time.