Chapter Text
Inuyasha stalked through the forest, unaware of everything around him. Kikyo… She’d become so cold. So dispassionate. She was so focused on revenge, it seemed to consume everything about her. It reminded him of himself, in some ways – the first time he met Naraku, he’d been so fixated on avenging Kikyo that he’d run headlong into danger without a second thought. And he still felt that need, that drive to find justice for the life and happiness that Naraku had stolen from them. But now he had pack. Now he had Miroku. Now he had a reason to stop and think.
Kikyo had been right – he’d changed so much over a few short months. Miroku had something to do with it, he was sure, but that wasn’t all.
He came to a stop, looking down at his claws. ‘You sound like Naraku.’ She’d been speaking only of their shared desire for her, but she wasn’t wrong. Even though he was with Miroku, even though he had no claim over her, Inuyasha still felt the intense need to keep her close, to protect her. Possessiveness, his mind supplied. Naraku was the same – pursuing her because he wanted her. It was ugly and disgusting and Inuyasha was deeply ashamed of himself for it.
But he knew that he’d taken part beyond his pursuit of Kikyo. He’d seen Kouga as a threat – a rival – before he and Miroku even admitted their feelings for one another. He knew that he was protective of his pack, perhaps overly so, but he had no right to the decisions they made. If Miroku had decided to join the wolf pack, Inuyasha would have no grounds to stop him. Even though he felt that he should. It churned his stomach, but he couldn’t deny it. He wanted so desperately to hold on to Miroku, to guard the few pieces of good in his life, that he was willing to fight tooth and claw to keep him. And Naraku was so keen to purge himself of his love for Kikyo that he wanted to kill her.
Inuyasha shook his head. He would never, ever do anything like that.
Although, a tiny voice reminded him, he had hurt those he cared about. The scent of Miroku’s blood on his claws haunted him still. It was unintentional, but that would mean nothing if the result was the same. There was a part of himself that he couldn’t control, and it was a danger to others. Naraku couldn’t control all of his incarnations – but that was different. Naraku was using himself to try to destroy them. Inuyasha was-
Using his youki to fight.
No. No, it wasn’t the same. Not at all. He was trying to learn to control himself. He was fighting Naraku for his own protection, and that of his pack. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t play stupid, manipulative mind games for the suffering of others.
Although, he had been planning out how to trick Miroku into opening up.
No, they had talked things through and things were better now. They had agreed to be more open with one another.
He could deal with his possessiveness. He could reign in his control over others. He would focus on controlling himself, on honing his youki into a tool to keep everyone safe. He would train as hard as he could, get stronger-
Like Naraku had. Naraku was a human who absorbed demons into himself. Inuyasha was a hanyou who wanted the Jewel to make him youkai.
He sank to his knees on the forest floor.
Fuck.
He knew that it wasn’t the same. He knew that he could never do any of the horrible, senselessly cruel and manipulative things that Naraku seemed to take pleasure in. All he wanted was to keep himself and his pack alive, to be safe.
But it still hurt.
He wanted to use the Jewel so that he wouldn’t have to worry all the time. He would be respected as a demon in a way he never was as a hanyou. He would be stronger, strong enough to protect those important to him. He was enhancing what he already had, not changing himself entirely. Not like Naraku had.
But would his human half be gone? Would he also be losing some part of himself?
He slammed his fist into the ground. It connected with a soft thud – not enough.
He had told Miroku that he would no longer pursue Kikyo. He hadn’t been lying, at the time. But seeing her again, smelling her scent, hearing her voice… He knew that she was different – how could she not be? But he could still see glimpses of the woman he loved. She had always been strong-willed and determined. It was what had drawn them together in the first place. Her death had changed a fundamental part of who she was, but she was still her. And he didn’t know how he could let her go.
He remembered how he felt all those weeks ago, seeing Kikyo standing over a bound Miroku, knowing that she had hurt him. In that moment, he’d been entirely focused on getting the monk back. But now, with her in danger, the need to protect was just as strong.
He didn’t know what to do.
He couldn’t be like Naraku. That monster took whatever he wanted, fed into his own sadistic desires no matter the cost. Inuyasha knew that he couldn’t toy with Miroku’s emotions. If he was to protect Kikyo, as he’d sworn, how could he face Miroku? He cursed softly, digging his claws into the ground. He and Kikyo were so tangled up in each other, so inalterably intertwined, but he could spare Miroku from that.
If he could let the monk go.
~*~
Sango watched Miroku carefully. She had been rushing through the forest, ready to fight the demon she’d seen from the opposite side of the village, when she bumped into him. With a pale face and large, hollow eyes, he assured her that the danger was passed, the trouble over, and all was well. Sango didn’t need half a brain to know that was wildly untrue. She glanced into the transparent darkness of the night, where she knew that Inuyasha had disappeared to.
“What happened?” she asked cautiously, taking his arm.
His eyes met hers and he swallowed, sagged, and looked away. “It’s complicated.”
She scowled. “You realize that that’s the least helpful thing you could have said, right?”
“Kikyo.”
“Oh.”
She readjusted her grip on his arm and began leading him back to the village. She glanced over her shoulder, unease churning in her belly.
“And Inuyasha?” she asked carefully.
“He just needs some time to think,” Miroku said in a faint voice.
She led him to the outskirts of the forest, where Kirara was waiting with Shippo on her back. They could both obviously tell that something was wrong, but kept quiet as they stuck close to his side. Miroku was unwaveringly silent all the way back to Kaede’s hut, where he settled down by the fire and stared into the flames. Sango frowned, and waved Kirara over.
“I need you to find Inuyasha and keep an eye on him,” she whispered. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish. I’m going to deal with this one.”
Kirara chirped quietly, nuzzled Shippo goodbye, and bounded off into the night. Miroku didn’t so much as blink. His face held a quiet, earnest intensity that made Sango think that his mind was whirling. Her only consolation was that he didn’t look injured or heartbroken, so presumably Inuyasha was similarly intact and the two of them were at least in a salvageable place. Still, she watched him carefully, while occasionally distracting Shippo with little games and shaking her head firmly when Kaede entered the hut and looked to be about to speak.
It was some time later that Kirara came back. Sango raised an eyebrow, and the twin-tail glanced behind her expectantly. Instead of a hanyou coming through the doorway, there was a slight shuffling outside, then the faint sound of footsteps on the roof above them before silence. Sango glanced back at Miroku, who had squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath. He shuffled to the wall and leaned back against it, stoically ignoring her gaze. She sighed and followed suit, dragging Hiraikotsu over to the corner and preparing for a night sleeping upright.
She started about an arm’s length from him, but quickly thought better of it. She wordlessly scooted closer until their sides were touching. Miroku didn’t speak, didn’t open his eyes, but a faint, pained smile tugged at his lips and he pressed against her. She unceremoniously deposited Shippo into his lap while plopping Kirara onto her own and settled down.
~*~
The next morning, they could all hear Inuyasha walking around outside. At Sango’s gentle nudge, Kirara stepped off her lap, stretched, and padded outside to investigate. Miroku’s eyes were open and staring blankly at the middle-distance, his expression closed. Kaede, glancing between them and obviously aware that something was the matter, pushed to her feet and joined the hanyou and twin-tail outside.
Inuyasha continued moving about incessantly – tidying firewood, pushing a cart further against a house, and picking up leaves off the ground – while not looking at any of them. He could feel their eyes on him, knew that he owed Miroku, if not all of them, some kind of explanation. But he couldn’t. He’d tried all night and still couldn’t come up with a way to express what he was feeling. Because, honestly, he still couldn’t decipher exactly what it was he was feeling. All he knew was that it was twisted and ugly and it hurt. Even the parts that he knew, he couldn't put into words. How could he possibly explain that he had to keep himself at a distance? That he was absolutely terrified of how much he needed Miroku? Because every time someone got close, it hurt. Every time he saw Kikyo again, it hurt. And even if she wasn't there, he knew that it was just a matter of time before things went wrong. And it wasn't just Miroku that he wanted to spare any pain.
Miroku’s slight frown deepened when he and Sango stepped outside and Inuyasha didn’t so much as look at them. Sango could see the hurt that he quickly masked, and it only made her frustration grow. She knew that it wasn’t her place or her responsibility to get in the middle of whatever was between them, but for goodness sake, whatever was happening was making everyone miserable!
As though he could detect her thoughts, Inuyasha huffed quietly and moved further away, apparently intent on reorganizing the entire village.
“Is there anything I can do?” Sango asked, more to prompt Miroku into talking than anything else.
“We’re fine, Sango,” Miroku said, and it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. “He just needs some time to think.”
Sango crossed her arms, leaned against the wall of Kaede’s hut, and looked unconvinced.
~*~
Inuyasha leaned against the fence at the edge of the cow pasture, ostensibly there to help Kaede pick medicinal herbs. She had firmly told him that he was to follow her, and he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to contradict her. But the old miko was just pulling at weeds and not saying anything. Inuyasha sighed and hopped onto the fence, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around them. His ears moved lazily, following the sounds of the wind in the trees, birds flying around them, and the distant voices in the village.
“You know, they say that if you allow words to fester, they may not emerge the way you intended,” Kaede said conversationally.
Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do they say that, Kaede, or do you?”
“You must speak to someone about what is on your mind, Inuyasha,” she warned. “It need not be to me, but it must be soon. What you carry burns not only yourself.”
He huffed and looked away, curling tighter into himself. “It’s no one’s business what happened.”
“Is it not my business, as Kikyo’s sister?” Kaede asked mildly, unimpressed by his surprise. “You do not think that I can recognize those demons she keeps in her company, or the effect she might have on you?”
Inuyasha closed his eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions. “I know I messed up, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to find some way to find her again – to keep her safe.”
“And what of the others you swore to protect?”
Inuyasha growled and stared up at the sky with angry eyes. “I’m not abandoning anyone, but Kikyo is my priority right now.”
Kaede glanced up at him, quietly assessing. “You still wish to be with her?”
There was a long pause, and the silence weighed heavily on them both. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.
“This Kikyo is made from earth and bones,” she reminded him gently. “She is not of this world.”
Inuyasha shook his head, rejecting the words. Her body may be different, and she may act in unpredictable ways, but her spirit was still the same as the one he’d fallen in love with. He couldn’t abandon her. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t just give up on the woman he loved!
“The two of you can never be together in this world,” Kaede continued, unperturbed by his silent fuming. “What my sister truly wants it for both of you to die together.”
“I’d leap into hell with her,” Inuyasha muttered softly. “Kikyo knows that.”
“And what about Miroku?”
Inuyasha reeled back so hard that he almost fell off the fence. He dug his claws into the wood to stay upright, and then held on because it was better than letting go.
“Wipe that foolish look from your face,” Kaede instructed. “I am asking if you would abandon him, and Sango and the others, and your quest to destroy Naraku, all so that you may follow Kikyo into death.”
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted all the impossible things surrounding him to just go away, to let him think. Every decision carried with it not just his own life, but that of everyone he cared about. And he was tired. He was confused. He wasn’t ready to deal with all of this.
“I’m not going to stop chasing Naraku or leave my pack behind,” he said firmly, because that much he did know. “Once that bastard’s dead and the hunt for the Jewel is over, it’ll be another matter. I can actually decide what to do with my life then, instead of being dragged around by fate.”
“And what do you think Miroku would have to say about this?”
Inuyasha’s eyes bore holes into the ground, his ears pressed flat against his skull. “He’d probably say that it’s my decision. He’d tell me that a relationship with Kikyo has no future. I dunno.”
“You do not think that he might have some words regarding your decision to pursue another, even if it is Kikyo? Even if it is in the future?”
Inuyasha shoved himself hard off the fence and stalked away. He was done with stupid questions! Of course he knew that he was hurting Miroku with this whole thing. But it wasn’t like he could stop it! As much as it was tearing him apart, he couldn’t expect anyone – let alone someone as kind, and patient, and good as Miroku – to be dragged around like an afterthought. He deserved so much better, so much more than Inuyasha could give him.
It didn’t matter that his youki was clawing at his throat and chest, begging him to run to Miroku’s arms and stay there forever. It didn’t matter that it would be possibly the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He knew that he had to be firm in his decision, because as soon as he saw those violet eyes filled with hurt, that detached mask fall down over the exquisite features, he knew that he would do anything in his power to make it right again. But there was nothing in the world that he could do to make this right.
~*~
It was afternoon by the time Miroku plucked up the courage to go after Inuyasha. Kaede had reported that the hanyou had fled into the forest mid-morning and hadn’t been seen since. Everyone – Sango, Kirara, Shippo, and Kaede – had all offered to go and find him. Miroku had refused, on the grounds that his companion was probably looking for some time alone. But the worried glances, the tentative voices, and sympathetic looks of those around him had been grating on his frayed nerves all day, and he’d finally reached his breaking point.
If he was to confront Inuyasha, it was better to do it now than later. Their journey had already been delayed by a day, and if things were to go the way that he desperately hoped they weren’t, then he would need a little time to himself to recover.
He set his path into the woods, in the direction of the tree where he’d first come upon the hanyou all those months ago. He had a feeling that if Inuyasha was going to stop and think anywhere, it might be there. A slight presence brushed against the edge of his mind as he approached. He could feel a familiar spirit lurking nearby. And it wasn’t Inuyasha.
He was admittedly surprised to find her still in the area. From what Inuyasha had said, in the few sparse words before he’d disappeared the night before, she was on a mission of her own to destroy Naraku.
“I thought you would be long gone by now,” he said by way of greeting, coming to a stop a safe distance away.
“I wanted to see you first,” she said mildly, surveying him coolly.
“To what do I owe the honour?” he asked, and couldn’t quite keep the scorn from his voice.
“I wanted to see that it was true with my own two eyes,” Kikyo sighed. “I suspected for some time, but then again, I had some insight into the situation.”
“I would feel invaded if I didn’t know that you can’t control it,” he said, sitting down heavily on the ground. “When could you tell?”
“It’s difficult to say,” she shrugged. “You certainly don’t make things easy.”
He stifled a humourless laugh.
“I first detected something the second time we met,” she continued thoughtfully. “You were so adamant that I not take Inuyasha with me.”
“To hell?” he clarified incredulously. “That doesn’t mean I had feelings for him back then, just that I was…” The words ‘decent human’ died on his tongue.
“I told you before that you weren’t a threat to me,” she said, her eyes sharp.
“You also said that you could not be with him while he’s living,” Miroku countered firmly. “And no matter what else happens, I will ensure that he remains as such.”
“I will have him.”
He closed his eyes, forced the fight out of his body. This would get them nowhere. Instead, he offered her a sad smile. “I can see why you would want to.”
She stared at him, suspicious, uncomprehending.
“He is so caring, so brave,” Miroku continued, looking up at the clouds tracing across the sky. “I think it’s safe to say that I understand why you love him.”
To his surprise, Kikyo sighed. “He began as a fascination for me. I saw that he was lonely, an outsider, and it drew me to him. We found a peace in each other that we didn’t have in the rest of the world.”
“Perhaps we’re all a little lost,” he breathed softly. “All of us who seek Naraku have had our lives touched in such a way that we will never truly fit in again.”
“He is what binds us now,” Kikyo agreed. “Inuyasha may tie the two of us together, but Naraku is something far greater.”
He looked her up and down, saw the quiet earnestness radiating from her. “You feel some connection with Naraku, don’t you?”
“He is the one who killed me.”
“You also cared for him, back when he was Onigumo,” Miroku pushed thoughtfully. In truth, he could not imagine having such a relationship with the man who would one day become such a bane in all of their lives. He knew that as a monk, he was supposed to love all creatures. He didn’t know if he would have been able to.
“Naraku despises the part of himself that remains Onigumo,” Kikyo said bitterly. “He absorbs more and more demons to replenish his body so that he may diminish that part of himself.”
“And you absorb the souls of dead women to retain a part of yourself.”
She smiled, coldly yet almost fondly. “Perhaps we are more similar than I would care to admit. Just as with you and I, monk.”
He closed his eyes. “Indeed.”
“You know that I despise you,” she said easily. “Yet I must admit that I am grateful for your part in protecting him – Inuyasha never was one for safety. I suppose that I should thank you for saving me, as well.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said wryly. “Truly. I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”
“You must know that Inuyasha and I share something that cannot be broken,” Kikyo said. “He once planned to turn himself into a human to be with me.”
Miroku nodded, not meeting her eyes.
“He wished it to free me from my duty as a priestess and the guardian of the Jewel,” she continued. “He was always willing to do anything to stay by my side.”
Miroku squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring how the words sliced through his heart like a knife. “He has always been too selfless,” he agreed, deciding that that was her point. “He doesn’t see his own worth.”
“It was love.”
“It was wrong,” he whispered. “To ask him to give up a part of himself?”
“Is it not what we all must do, when we’re in love?” she asked, her eyes piercing as they met his.
She stood, didn’t bother to say goodbye. The soul collectors emerged from the canopy to carry her away. Miroku watched her go with an ache in his chest and a storm in his mind. As she disappeared from view, he turned to make his way back to the village. If Inuyasha hadn’t appeared by the evening, he decided, he would go after him once more. Perhaps use the nenju beads if it was necessary. For the time being, he didn’t want to be alone.
He was so consumed by his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Inuyasha standing in front of Kaede’s hut until it was almost too late. Sango stood beside him, arms crossed, a tempestuous look on her face. As soon as he met her gaze, she snatched Shippo off the ground and took off with Kirara at her heels. Miroku looked from her to Inuyasha, everything else momentarily forgotten in his confusion. The expression of anguish on the hanyou’s face soon brought him back to the present.
“I think we need to talk,” Inuyasha said, a little weakly.
“Shall we, then?” Miroku tried, gesturing at Kaede’s hut, the attempted levity in his voice falling flat.
They sat opposite each other on either side of the irori. Inuyasha knew that he needed to be the one to speak first, that he’d pushed Miroku to the breaking point and the monk wouldn’t be taking the first step this time. And he couldn’t. Even when Sango had dragged him out of the forest and wordlessly shoved him through the village, he didn’t know what to say. Well, that wasn’t strictly true.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and it hung in the air between them.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Miroku asked, painfully gentle, as though it wasn’t an impossible task.
“I don’t know,” Inuyasha muttered grimly. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what to do. I know that I hurt you and you don’t even know what happened yet but you’re not stupid, you saw me hugging her-”
“Breathe.”
He did. He tried. “Before you, I never trusted another soul,” he shook his head, almost choking on the words. “But you stayed by my side, through everything. I- I feel so much safer, so peaceful when you’re with me. I don’t want to lose you…”
“You won’t lose me.” The old promise. So far, he’d kept it. So far.
“Kikyo came after me, and she died because of it,” Inuyasha said, each word a dagger in his chest. “I have to repay her life with my own. I have to avenge her – to defeat Naraku!”
“I knew this from the beginning,” Miroku said gently. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”
“I will always go to her. If she’s in danger, I have to help her.”
The monk swallowed thickly. “I can never break the bond between you and her.”
Inuyasha dropped his gaze to the ground, and said in a choked whisper “I’m still in love with her.”
Miroku watched him quietly, a sad smile on his lips. “I know.”
“I can’t-” Inuyasha gasped, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t do that to you. It’s not right! It’s not-”
“Yash,” Miroku interrupted gently. “It’s alright. I understand. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to see her, and I’ve always known that you have feelings for her.”
He swallowed hard, and Inuyasha tentatively lifted his eyes to catch his gaze, grateful and hopeful and pleading and terrified all at once.
“If you want things to be over between us, then they are,” Miroku continued softly. “Things can go back to the way they were between us with no harm done. I will still be there for you, still be your friend, I swear.” His eyes burned into Inuyasha’s with fierce intensity. “But if you’re trying to end things out of some sense of obligation to my feelings, please don’t. I don’t want to lose what we have.” His voice was thick, strained. “I- I want to be with you. I can take whatever you have with Kikyo in stride. Please, Yash-”
His voice broke, but it didn’t matter, because Inuyasha was there, crushing him against his chest. He clung to the hanyou with a desperate grip, trying to quell the trembling which spread through him. Inuyasha’s eyes were pressed into the skin at his neck and suspiciously damp. When they pulled back, he was blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. He looked so lost, so distressed, and Miroku’s heart ached for him. He brought his fingers to cradle the side of his face, intent on reassuring him that they were okay. Instead, his gaze dropped to Inuyasha’s lips, and the words died in his throat.
Inuyasha’s breathing hitched, heart pounding, his eyes darting down to Miroku’s own mouth and back up again. Slowly, cautiously, Miroku leaned forward ever so slightly. Inuyasha’s fingers brushed along his cheek and stayed there as they hovered apart, sharing the same air. It all came down to this. Miroku pressed forward. Their lips met in a gentle touch, barely there. Inuyasha whined low in his throat and pressed further, deepening the kiss. Jolts of pleasure and aching happiness ran through Inuyasha's body, overwhelming everything else for that precious moment. He could taste Miroku, the pressure of his lips warm and perfect, and he could feel the earnest desire between them. Miroku’s hand came to cradle the back of his neck as his eyes squeezed shut and he poured everything he was feeling into their connection.
Their lips slid together gently, one last time before they broke apart. Miroku kept his eyes closed and pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath as Inuyasha shuddered apart against him. Claws clenched in his hair before retreating, and when Miroku dared to look, a tear slipped down Inuyasha’s cheek.
“I’m here,” Miroku promised in a whisper, and that was all the invitation that Inuyasha needed. A sob ripped from his chest as he melted against Miroku, clinging to him and shaking.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Inuyasha gasped in distress. “I wanted to protect you…”
“And you tried,” Miroku said gently. “But did you stop to think that perhaps I was the one who should decide whether or not I could live with your relationship with Kikyo? That I would have a say on whether we should end things?”
“But you don’t even think about yourself!” Inuyasha insisted, clutching tighter at his robes. “You always do for others-”
“Do you think I’m not being selfish?” Miroku interrupted firmly. Inuyasha drew back in surprise, and their eyes met. “I don’t want this to end because I want to be with you! Because I care about you! Because you make me happy!”
Inuyasha genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. He hugged the monk close and simply held him, trying to come up with an argument and instead just soaking in his presence, trying to calm the emotions raging in his chest, his mind, his heart, his soul.
Finally, he sat back, though one hand rested on Miroku’s thigh. “You make me so happy as well. The last thing I want is to hurt you, but if you’re sure about staying with me…”
“I am.”
“…then alright.” He swallowed hard. “I promise, what I said before was true. I will be loyal, and I will do everything I can not to let you get hurt. I just… I can’t ignore her.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
Inuyasha closed his eyes and let out a small, broken laugh. “She was the first person I ever loved. The only person I cared for outside of my own mother. I spent so long thinking that no one could ever love me – that Kikyo was a fluke and it would never happen again. She became my whole world…”
Miroku smiled sadly. “I don’t know what it’s like to love someone like that, but I think I can imagine.”
Inuyasha chuckled wetly and pulled Miroku into his lap. “Thank you,” he whispered, and pressed his lips gently against Miroku's neck.
“You don't have to thank me,” Miroku said gently. “Never for this. There are some hurts from those close to us that we simply have to carry.”
Inuyasha sniffed, blinking the last of the tears from his eyes as he brushed his fingers through Miroku's hair. “What about you? What was it like, with the others you’ve been with?”
Miroku tensed slightly. He knew that it wasn’t just Inuyasha deflecting, that he truly wanted to know, but any delve into his past was often uncomfortable. “I haven’t had a relationship before. You know as much.”
“Still,” Inuyasha pressed, his nose against Miroku’s neck. “I’d like to know.”
The monk looked into the fire, eyes softening a little. “My first time, my first kiss, was with the head mistress at a brothel. She wanted to teach me what it felt like before I had my first client. And how to please a woman, if it came to that.”
“And your clients…?” Inuyasha asked gently.
“My first time with another man was for pay. Do you know what a kagema is?” Inuyasha shook his head silently. “What about a chigo?” Another shake. “Well, that’s what I was. The men wanted someone young, non-threatening. Monks were sometimes interested in me – there are a number of jokes surrounding that.”
Inuyasha could feel how tender the memory still was, how carefully he would have to tread to avoid pressing on old wounds, but he still wanted to know. “That first time?”
Miroku’s expression closed slightly. “It wasn’t pleasant. I wasn’t ready.” He blinked, casting off the past. “That’s why I’m trying so hard to do this right between us.”
What he doesn’t say was that the first time it happened, he was shaking so badly he could barely speak. That he had cried so hard afterwards that the man had left without paying. How the head mistress of the brothel had found him curled on the floor. How she’d sent others to track down the man and force him to hand over the money owed while she wrapped him in a blanket and told him that he didn’t have to do it again – he didn’t have a contract with them, he was simply passing through. Miroku had been better after that. He learned how to be pliant and how to be coy. How to bring pleasure to both the client and himself. How to hang around taverns if the brothel wouldn’t help him, to pick out which men were interested and which would beat the shit out of him if he suggested it. How to have fun.
“Are you okay?” Inuyasha asked, painfully gentle.
Miroku nodded, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah. I just would rather focus on us for the moment.”
“I can’t imagine growing up like that. You deserve someone to stay by your side.”
“Well…” Miroku said pointedly, and Inuyasha blushed despite himself. “My work gave me experience, and kept me going. Outside of that, there wasn’t much. A bit of flirting with the other girls. If they had another boy, I couldn’t find enough work, and I wouldn’t stay in the area long enough for anything approaching a relationship.”
“You really were a wandering monk, huh?” Inuyasha said thoughtfully.
“What about you?” Miroku asked. “Before you came to this village, what was it like?”
“It wasn’t great,” Inuyasha said wryly, and his jaw tightened. “I can’t know what you went through, but I understand being young and alone and acting out of necessity. When I was still a kid, after my mother died and the other humans drove me from our village, I had to survive on my own. Most of the time it was okay, but on the night of the new moon, it was rough.”
He stopped, his face scrunching up from the memory, and Miroku very suddenly wondered if he’d spoken about this with anyone before.
“Usually I would hide in a cave or up a tree and just hope that nothing found me,” he continued after a moment. “A few times, though, when I was cold and hungry, I would wait until I was fully transformed and then walk into a human village and beg for food. They gave it to me, because they thought I was a human. I was so ashamed for having to hide who I was, but I did what I had to.” His voice was unnaturally quiet, rough with anger and humiliation. “One time, they caught me. Roughed me up pretty good. I never did it again after that.”
“I’m so sorry,” Miroku whispered.
“Keh, it’s nothing,” Inuyasha shrugged, not bothering to sound convincing. “It’s just what we deal with, right?”
“Not anymore,” Miroku reminded him, because he thought they both needed to hear it.
“Yeah,” Inuyasha smiled, leaning their foreheads together. “Not anymore.”
They separated for a breath, and pressed back together for a tender kiss. For just a little while, the rest of the world disappeared – the shadows of their pasts, the hurts of the present, and the impossibility of the future. For a moment, they could simply exist, wrapped in each other’s arms and breathing in their bond. Something had shifted between them, something deep and undeniable. There was no longer a question surrounding them – they would stay, for better or worse. They were together. They were home.