Chapter Text
Miroku’s breath came in increasingly desperate gasps. Inuyasha readjusted the monk’s head on his shoulder, trying to open up his airway. He rubbed gentle circles into Miroku's chest in an attempt to loosen the taught muscles. Sango knelt in front of them, holding Miroku’s hand with one of her own and pressing a cool cloth to his forehead with the other. The fever was just beginning. The tremors had faded, but it seemed to be more because of exhaustion than any improvement. Other than the stilted movements of his hands, Inuyasha was utterly frozen, his entire world made up of counting each heartbeat, each breath, his eyes fixed on Miroku with unwavering focus.
When Shippo shouted outside the hut with the announcement “We’re here!” Inuyasha visibly flinched.
The kit was holding a bundle of herbs almost as big as he was. He grabbed a handful and passed them to Sango. “Try to get him to eat them. They work better when they’re steeped into a tea, but he needs something right away.”
Inuyasha eased Miroku’s mouth open as gently as possible, and Sango tore up the herbs and crushed them into a paste in her palm before shoving them to the back of his throat. Inuyasha stroked his throat to encourage him to take the herbs down, though it turned into more of a caress than was entirely necessary. After swallowing, Miroku shivered violently, his brows creasing even in unconsciousness. Sango left with Kirara to fetch more wood for the fire.
“How long until the herbs work, Shippo?” Inuyasha asked, still unable to take his eyes off the monk.
“I don’t really know,” the kit admitted nervously. “Kaede kept on feeding them to him whenever she could for two days. It might take a while to flush the venom from his system.”
“Alright,” Inuyasha said, sending him an encouraging nod. “You’re doing good. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Of course he will be!” Shippo said, with less of the blasé of childhood and more forced optimism than Inuyasha would have liked.
They were all doggedly silent as morning bled into afternoon. Miroku was only getting worse. His breathing was so shallow, so strained. His lips and the tips of his fingers had turned faintly blue. Inuyasha found himself matching each breath as though encouraging the monk to just keep going. When that didn’t work, he started begging.
“Please,” he whispered into Miroku’s hair, his brow, his neck. “Just breathe. C’mon, you can do it. You're strong. You’ve faced worse than this before. Just keep breathing. Please.”
Sango watched like a stone statue, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears, Shippo’s face buried in her chest. Kirara periodically nosed the two of them and rubbed against them or nuzzled Miroku’s cheek, knowing better than to try and pull Inuyasha’s concentration away by touching him as well. Whenever the silence became too oppressive, Sango poured another cup of the medicinal drink and moved to crouch by Miroku’s side. Initially, he had been awake enough to feel what was going on but not aware enough to recognize what was happening, and fought them as they tried to get him to drink. This time, he was too deeply unconscious to register anything, and lay unresponsive as Sango tipped the liquid down his throat. She honestly didn’t know which was worse.
Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to breathe easier. Inuyasha pressed a desperate kiss against his cheek, wary of covering his lips even for a moment. He still felt sick to his stomach with worry, every muscle tensed to snap. But Miroku was still alive. That's all he could ask for now.
By the late evening, his breathing had improved enough that the others could take their eyes off of him for more than a moment at a time. Sango pulled Shippo and Kirara away to track down some food. They had a small sum given to them by Kaede before they left, but it wouldn’t last longer than a day or two, and certainly wouldn’t cover any cost that the village demanded for letting them spend the night. Sango was prepared to threaten, barter, work with, or kill whatever or whoever she needed to in order to let them stay as long as they needed.
The night was rough. Even as the poison faded from Miroku’s scent, the fever began to claim him. His rattling breaths turned to moans as he thrashed, his barely-conscious mind warning him of danger and pain. Inuyasha found himself wrapping his arms around the monk once more and holding him to his chest, struggling to keep him still and not injure himself. He cursed his own strength when it was turned against the human. The groans, whimpers, and unintelligible words that poured from Miroku as he fought desperately against an invisible opponent were slowly but surely breaking Inuyasha’s heart. He buried his nose in Miroku’s hair and squeezed his eyes shut, keeping up a constant stream of reassurances that he knew the human couldn’t hear.
Gradually he calmed, more from exhaustion than anything else. Sango wove her fingers through his hair and coaxed him to drink more of the medicinal tea. Once the cup was empty, she pulled Inuyasha into a wordless embrace, Miroku pressed between them. She returned to her position by the fire, where Shippo and Kirara were sleeping, and knelt down to keep watch through the long night.
By the next morning, Inuyasha broke the silence to tell Sango to sleep. She blinked blearily and stubbornly at him as he argued with her.
“You’ve been going for two nights solid, Sango,” he said, ignoring the rasp in his voice. “I can’t nurse you as well. You already know you’re going to have to take over in a few days when I pass out from exhaustion.”
“The fact that you’re incorporating that into your plan does not make it better,” she told him flatly.
“I’m serious,” Inuyasha said softly. “You need to pace yourself. I can’t have you getting sick as well.”
She pursed her lips and looked away. “Maybe I can’t sleep yet. Maybe I need to wait until we know that he’s going to be okay.”
“He will be. He’s survived it so far.”
She looked unconvinced, and he could see the pain in her eyes. His frown deepened, and she sighed. “I need to know for sure I didn’t kill him.”
Inuyasha wished that he was surprised by the statement. Instead, he pressed his nose against Miroku’s brow and let out a shuddering breath. “You’re not the one who left him.”
“You only left to save me and Kohaku.”
“I should have stopped him. I should have known what he was going to do.”
“I should have known about Kohaku.”
He growled softly and adjusted his grip on Miroku. He could smell the misery in Sango’s scent. He saw Shippo and Kirara blinking at them nervously. “Fuck this!” he said, very suddenly and louder than he'd been intending. “Naraku did this to him! We messed up, but none of us would have had to make the choices we made if Naraku hadn’t set the whole thing up to begin with.”
Sango nodded slowly, still unconvinced. “Yeah. If Miroku’s fine, then this was all Naraku’s fault.”
Inuyasha hated that she put it into words – because she was right. If Miroku woke up and smiled and laughed at them for being overprotective, sentimental fools, then it was all Naraku’s fault that he had been hurt. If Miroku didn’t wake up, then it was because of them.
It was some indeterminate time later, when Shippo and Kirara had gone out to forage more herbs for the pain and Sango was dozing fitfully against the wall, that Miroku shifted slightly for the first time since well before dawn. Inuyasha startled, blinked himself out of the nothingness he’d been floating in and honed all his senses back on the human in his arms. Miroku’s eyes moved slowly beneath their lids. His fingers twitched. A small crease appeared between his brows and his heartbeat rose.
“Miroku?” Inuyasha asked, voice fragile and frail with hope.
The monk made a small sound, barely there, but it was something. His hand slowly curled into a loose fist. Inuyasha immediately took it and, unthinkingly, pressed it to his lips. Miroku let out a small puff of air that sounded like a relieved sigh.
“You’re safe,” Inuyasha murmured, brushing the fingers of his other hand through Miroku’s hair. “You're okay. Everyone’s alright. Just rest.”
This time, when the monk’s heartbeat slowed, it didn’t make Inuyasha’s muscles tense or the breath catch in his throat. He pressed his brow against Miroku's and sent a breath of thanks to whoever was listening. He curled tighter around his human and closed his eyes, letting the even beats lull him into a sense of calm.
The next time he woke, Inuyasha almost missed it. Sango was forcing a bowl of rice into the hanyou, threatening to tie him down if he didn’t eat. Inuyasha was hissing at her quietly and busy shoving Shippo away when he felt eyes on him. His head whipped around so fast that he thought his neck would snap, but it was immediately worth it to see the tired violet eyes watching him. He and Sango both stumbled over in an uncoordinated mess to kneel by his side.
“Hey,” Sango said, bracing a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Good as new,” Miroku rasped.
“You absolute liar,” she said affectionately, squeezing his hand.
“M’alright,” he sighed as he gave them a small smile. “Just tired.”
“You’ll feel even better soon!” Shippo chirped, gently placing a hand on Miroku's arm and smiling for the first time in over a day. “The medicine's working!”
”Of course it is,” Miroku said softly. He looked like he was trying to move his arm to bring the kit in for a hug, but his body was still uncooperative. “You did so well treating me.”
Shippo blushed furiously but refused to let go of Miroku's sleeve.
“You should eat something,” Inuyasha finally forced himself to speak as he snatched the bowl of rice, soundly ignoring the panicky edge to his own voice.
Miroku frowned slightly and his eyes slid over to Sango. “That bad, huh?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said reassuringly, but her lips pursed with tension she couldn't quite hide.
“If it’s all the same to you,” Miroku mumbled, gaze tipping back over to the hanyou. “Imma head back to sleep real quick.”
“Tea first,” Sango said firmly, already pouring him a fresh cup.
He accepted the drink and tried to hold it steady, but his limbs were heavy with fatigue. Inuyasha held it to his lips and coaxed him through each sip. Shippo clamoured into Miroku's lap to help, but ended up cuddling into the monk's chest instead. Miroku dropped one hand down to rest on the kit's head and met Inuyasha's worried gaze fondly. Neither he nor Sango had shaken the panic still clinging to them.
“Where are we?” he asked, shifting his head away slightly to look between them.
“Small village not too far from the storehouse,” Sango smiled forcefully. “They’re very generously letting us stay.”
Miroku’s eyes narrowed. “How generously?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she repeated unconvincingly. “Drink your tea.”
He dutifully obeyed, and under the combination of his gentle looks and Sango’s hot glare, Inuyasha ate the rice. Soon, Miroku’s head was leaning heavily on Inuyasha’s thigh. The hanyou curled his fingers into his hair, massaging gently until he drifted off to sleep.
~*~
Miroku woke but didn’t open his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him before alerting the others. Everything hurt, a dull throbbing ache that used to be centered around his hand, but had long ago spread through his entire body. His chest was still tight, like it was being clamped down by steel bars, but breathing no longer sent a stab of agony through his lungs. They had told him that his fever broke that morning, though he didn’t remember it. Most snippets of consciousness were a pain-filled blur with occasional moments of clarity where he spoke to the others and tried to reassure them. He was getting better, after all. The danger had passed. He didn’t know why they still looked at him with clenched jaws and drawn brows, tension framing their mouths and eyes.
Piece by piece, he constructed an expression of pleasant neutrality, and had it firmly fixed on his face before opening his eyes and looking around. Sango was stirring a pot of stew over the fire, Shippo and Kirara asleep beside her. Miroku didn’t have to wonder where Inuyasha was – the hanyou hadn’t wandered further than halfway across the hut since they got here. Miroku was leaning back against a warm, strong body, arms encircling his chest, and what felt like a cheek pressed firmly to the top of his head. He smiled gently and breathed in the scent surrounding him, soaking in the warmth.
“Hey,” Sango whispered, looking relieved.
“Hey,” Miroku echoed. “How long has he been out?”
“Just a little while. It’s the first time he’s let himself fall asleep since we got here.”
“Stubborn,” he said affectionately.
“Aren’t we all?”
They shared a warm smile and Sango leaned back on her heels, surveying him. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he answered truthfully. “Still pretty weak.”
“That’s to be expected,” she sighed, suddenly looking exhausted. “You’ve barely eaten anything and that fever really run you down. But there’s no rush – we can stay here as long as we need to.”
“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I know you must have orchestrated all of this.”
A small crease appeared between her brows and she looked away. “It’s the least I could do.”
“Sango…”
“No,” she shook her head. “It was my fault that you sucked in those insects. You sacrificed yourself for Kohaku and me.”
“I didn’t sacrifice myself,” he told her firmly. “I just did what I could to help. It’s what you would have done for any of us.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head softly. “Try not to dwell on the past. There’s still hope for Kohaku. We know that he’s trying to come back to you.”
Tears stung her eyes. “That’s true, but Naraku’s still controlling him. How can I ask any of you to help him after what he’s done? How can I let you try, knowing that you might die in the process?”
“We help you because we love you,” Miroku whispered. “We’re in this together for the long run. There’s no question in that.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Miroku.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, then frowned slightly. “Though you could help me.”
She eyed him critically and grinned, a little brokenly. “You need to pee, don’t you?”
“Desperately.”
“Alright.” She shuffled over and placed a hand on the back of Inuyasha’s neck, squeezing gently. He startled awake and looked around wildly, his lip already curling into a growl. “Miroku’s awake,” she told him, clearly and firmly, trying not to roll her eyes as Inuyasha’s gaze flew to the monk so fast that he almost fell over. “He needs to pee. Up.”
It took all three of them to maneuver him around. Just being upright had his head spinning and he still couldn’t put any weight on his injured leg. He was breathing hard by the end of it, shaking slightly, and collapsed back against Inuyasha when they were done. Inuyasha and Sango both insisted that he eat something, but halfway through his bowl of stew, his head was lolling against Inuyasha’s shoulder. He hated the weakness even more than the pain, the lingering frailty and fatigue that plagued him. The others seemed not to care about how long his recovery would take, but each day pressed on his nerves as another day that they could be finding Naraku – or that Naraku might find them.
~*~
“I have a suggestion,” Miroku said mildly from where he was propped up against the wall. Inuyasha side-eyed him but didn’t slow his pacing. “What if you actually let yourself relax? Just try it, see how it feels.”
“You can’t hear what those villagers are saying,” Inuyasha huffed. “They don’t want us here, and with Sango and the others out getting those herbs, if they attack us-”
“They won’t,” Miroku insisted. “They may not like it, but they would never risk starting a fight with us. We simply need to speak with them more and let them know that we mean no harm. Have you interacted with any of them?”
Inuyasha stopped and glared at him. “You’re joking, right?”
Miroku smiled. “At least do your worrying over here.”
He sighed dramatically but still moved to crouch by the monk’s side. Miroku grasped his shoulders and tugged him closer. He ran his fingers through the long, silky hair, earning a slight noise of approval. Inuyasha tentatively leaned forward, gently pressing their lips together. Miroku’s hand curled around the back of his head and pulled him down on top of him, deepening the kiss and eagerly taking the hanyou’s weight on his chest. Inuyasha whimpered slightly, his whole body on fire with Miroku’s taste, the tongue which brushed against his lips. So much more powerful after he thought he might never get to feel them again. Miroku’s hands moved down his back, pressing into his waist, pressing their bodies closer to each other.
They were both a little breathless when the others returned, and staunchly ignored the smug looks that Sango kept on sending them.
~*~
They could all feel the tension rising in the hut as the days progressed. Miroku tried to lighten the mood with sly jokes and constant reassurances, but both Inuyasha and Sango were casting more and more looks outside. Shippo hadn't moved from Miroku's lap since he woke up, and kept on glancing between the others with large, solemn eyes. Kirara had taken up guard duty by the door, growling softly in warning whenever any of the villagers got too close.
“I’m going to speak with them again,” Sango announced suddenly, dragging Hiraikotsu up with her as she stood.
“The key word there is ‘speak,’ not ‘threaten,’ right?” Miroku called after her as she stalked out the door.
“They’re getting off way easier than they deserve,” Inuyasha grumbled, playing with the hilt of Tessaiga nervously.
“They’ve been incredibly generous thus far,” Miroku pointed out. “Letting us stay here for so long? They’re right to be wary of strangers in their home.”
He wrapped his arms around Shippo and help him close, trying to dispel some of the heightened emotions surrounding them. It was putting them all on edge, and he wasn't about to let the little fox start worrying about things he shouldn't.
The sound of raised voices came from outside. Inuyasha’s brows crashed together and his muscles tensed. Miroku pushed himself upright, and was met with a firm grasp pushing him back down.
“If you even try to stand, I’ll break your legs,” Inuyasha growled.
Miroku smiled and patted the hand on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”
Inuyasha huffed and released him, coming to sit beside him. He didn’t look remotely apologetic. When Sango returned, she looked peeved.
“They say that, since you’re not imminently dying, we need to start earning our keep.” She sounded less than thrilled at the idea. “I’m going to do some small work around the village for a while until they can think of something more fitting.”
“That’s very kind of them,” Miroku said slowly, and Sango shrugged.
She took Kirara with her as she left, and Shippo insisted on following them to help however he could. Inuyasha and Miroku were left alone once more, but the tension still remained. Miroku sighed, leaning back against the wall. “You look like you have something to say.”
Inuyasha grimaced. “Yeah, I do, and when you’re well enough, we’re going to have a conversation.”
“While that does sound very exciting,” Miroku said slowly. “And I appreciate you waiting for me to feel better to yell at me, I’d rather get this out of the way now.”
“You sure?” Inuyasha asked dryly. “’Cause once I get going, I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you look like shit.”
“Flatterer.”
“I’m serious, Miroku! This stuff…” He heaved a deep breath. “You opened the wind tunnel even though you knew you would be poisoned.”
“Ah.”
“You could have died!”
“But I didn’t.”
“Don’t you dare!” Inuyasha hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare look me in the eye after I sat by your side for days, watching you struggling for breath, not knowing if you’d even make it through the night, and tell me that it doesn’t matter!”
“I did what I had to,” Miroku said softly. “And it worked. We take risks for those we care about.”
“And what if you had died? What would I do then? You can’t put yourself in situations like that.”
Miroku’s eyes were solemn as he looked up at him. “And you can’t ask me not to protect the people closest to me.”
“There had to be another way! You didn’t have to put yourself in danger like that!”
Miroku’s expression hardened and his eyes flashed. “Tell me what other options I had, Yash. Tell me exactly what I could have done that would have gotten rid of the demons, scared off Kagura, and still allowed you to go after Sango and Kohaku. Tell me that.”
Inuyasha looked furious for a moment before the fight bled out of him. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly, his hand curling around the back of Miroku’s neck. “But sacrificing yourself isn’t the answer. You’re the one who’s always coming up with the plans!”
“Sometimes there is no easy answer,” Miroku sighed. “I can assure you that I’m trying to keep myself alive as much as possible, but sometimes we do what we have to. Sometimes there are no good options.” They both sighed softly. Miroku glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I never thanked you, by the way.”
Inuyasha frowned. “For what?”
“For saving Kohaku,” he said softly.
He scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, well, I only did it to get under Naraku’s skin. If we manage to get the kid back alive, it’ll really piss him off.”
Miroku smiled to himself. Even after all this time, he still refused to let others see how much he cared – even though there was no doubt in Miroku’s mind that Inuyasha was quite possibly the most caring individual he’d ever met.
“Besides,” Inuyasha continued, barely there, his eyes fixed on the floor. “You’re alive. Kohaku spared you.”
Miroku kissed him softly and rested his head on his shoulder. Inuyasha leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him. Miroku relished his warmth and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. Inuyasha didn’t deserve all the pain he was put through. He deserved to be happy, with some beautiful hanyou or demon who would live as long as he did, who would love him and cherish him and explore the world with him. But for some reason Inuyasha had chosen him, and he seemed intent not to let go. Miroku didn’t know which was better – to let him get close, to hold him tight and enjoy their time together before the inevitable heartbreak, or to keep him at arm’s length, to try to stave off attachment to protect him. Protect them both. Because despite his Buddhist doctrine, Miroku couldn’t welcome his death peacefully. And he knew it would be so much harder if he left behind more than a gaping hole in the ground.
But he knew that he couldn’t let go. For better or worse, they were incontrovertibly intertwined. Even though it meant that Inuyasha would have to suffer by his bedside again and again, even though it meant that he would have to watch as his chosen human withered into old age, the hanyou had chosen him. And Miroku knew with every fiber of his being that he would do his best to live up to everything that Inuyasha deserved.
~*~
Inuyasha pressed down firmly as Miroku’s hands wandered over his back and hips, before sliding down to grab his ass. Inuyasha moaned and arched against him, breaking their kiss, while Miroku chuckled into his mouth. He leaned back to look down at the monk suspiciously. “Are you just trying to distract me?”
“Yeah,” Miroku breathed against his lips. “Is it working?”
One ear flicked and his eyes narrowed. “Maybe…”
“’Cause it’s working for me!”
A quiet puff of air passed between them. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s a new tactic for you.”
“I figured that before we got together, you would have removed any hand that landed on your ass.” He leaned back to look at Inuyasha earnestly. “And I need you to maintain that fantasy, because if you tell me that I had a chance before, I will be crushed. Do you know how often I had to tell myself not to?”
Inuyasha laughed quietly and pressed forward for another kiss. The day had been spent with Sango rushing around, barely keeping the villagers off their backs. In the little spare time she had, she guided Miroku through movements to help his leg improve, as they’d been doing for the past two days. There had been a moment, when Inuyasha and Miroku were walking slowly around the hut, the monk’s hands on the hanyou’s shoulders and the hanyou’s hands bracing his waist. Miroku’s movements were painful and awkward, Inuyasha’s grip a little too firm, but the more they moved, the more it felt like dancing. Miroku began exaggeratedly swinging his hips, and soon they were all laughing, with Sango sweeping Shippo up in her arms to mimic them as they swayed slowly around the fire. For a moment, everything else had fallen away and they were simply a group of friends enjoying the evening.
That had been before Sango was called away on yet another demeaning task by the villagers. They could all sense that the collective patience of the people here was running thin. They wouldn’t be able to stay for more than a day or two longer. Inuyasha was ready to face them all head-on, but Miroku had managed to divert his attention for the time being.
Not so when Sango returned, grim-faced and pale. “They want us gone,” she said before either of them could ask. “They said that we either need to start paying with actual money or they’re going to flush us out.”
“I’d like to see them try!” Inuyasha growled, surging forward, but Miroku pulled him back with a gentle hand on his shoulders.
“It’s probably for the best that we leave,” he said calmly. “Sooner or later, Naraku will find us here. It’s safer to keep moving.”
“You still can’t walk,” Inuyasha pointed out testily. “Not enough for a full day’s travel, at least.”
“Kirara,” Miroku asked, drawing a questioning chirp from the twin-tail. “Would I be able to ride on your back for a while?”
She trilled enthusiastically, and Miroku sent Inuyasha an appeasing look. They began laying out their supplies for the next leg of their journey and discussed the layout of the area, seeing which villages were close enough that they could avoid spending another night outside.
“I think that should do it,” Miroku said, nodding satisfactorily.
“Good,” Sango said, and then she paused. “Before we go, I realized I never thanked you both.”
They turned to look at her in surprise. “For what?” Inuyasha asked incredulously. “You’re the one who’s been running around making sure we could hold out here.”
“That’s nothing,” she said, unusually subdued. “Nothing compared to what you’ve done for me. I wanted to thank you for believing in me, for saving Kohaku…and for letting me stay.”
Inuyasha’s ears flicked back and he looked perplexed. “Why the hell wouldn’t we let you stay?”
Miroku met Sango’s shocked look with an easy smile. Her eyes darted between them both before she let out a shuddering breath, a hidden tension falling from her shoulders. Inuyasha seemed utterly confused, but still caught her when she launched herself at them in a fierce embrace.
~*~
The calm stillness of the ancient forest was disrupted only by Jaken and Rin’s constant chattering. Sesshomaru easily ignored them as he searched for their target. He’d heard much of Bokusen-Oh, and if anyone had the answers he sought – anyone besides Totosai, that was – it would be the old tree. There was an undeniable aura around the forest, which spoke of timeless knowledge and power.
“Welcome,” a voice resonated from deep within the trees. “I have awaited your arrival.”
“Who spoke?” Jaken asked, looking around wildly.
“I don’t see anyone,” Rin said from her seat on Sesshomaru’s mount, which she’d taken to calling A-Un.
“I’ve been expecting you, Sesshomaru,” the voice continued, and Sesshomaru followed the sound to a large, ancient tree, whose twisting branches reached out in all directions.
“You knew I was coming, did you?” Sesshomaru asked the tree, coming to a stop before them.
“You’ve come to speak to me about the swords, I presume,” Bokusen-Oh said calmly. The bark on the trunk twisted and warped until their face appeared, two small eyes creaking open. “Do you seek information regarding Tenseiga? Or perhaps Tessaiga? Or perhaps…”
Rin’s hand tugged insistently on Sesshomaru’s sleeve. “Is that a tree demon?”
Sesshomaru guided her back behind him with a hand on top of her head. “A two thousand-year-old magnolia tree.”
“More than just that, I think,” Bokusen-Oh said craftily. “My body resides within the most powerful artifacts around, including the sheaths carved from my boughs.”
Sesshomaru forced himself to bow slightly. “And I am grateful for it. However, the information I seek is indeed about the swords. Bokusen-Oh, perhaps you can explain to me the link between Inuyasha and the Tessaiga.”
The old youkai’s eyes flashed. “What makes you think I know about the power of the sword? Or your younger brother, for that matter?”
“I have seen the power that Tessaiga’s sheath holds,” Sesshomaru said coolly. “You would know what the sword is capable of. Inuyasha’s blood has changed because of Tessaiga; the first time when it broke, and the second when he let go of the blade while fighting me. His scent was no longer hanyou – it was pure demon blood, like mine and my father’s.”
Bokusen-Oh hummed. “The same scent?” they chuckled. “I have my doubts.”
Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
“The product of a demon and a human could never become a pure-blooded demon,” they said flatly. “Sesshomaru, there is something that you, a born demon, are capable of accomplishing that Inuyasha could never do.”
“Go on.”
“I speak of maintaining oneself. In battle, for instance – if you find yourself in a hopeless situation, you are able to remain calm. You never lose yourself.”
Sesshomaru scoffed. “It wouldn’t be possible for me to fall into such a desperate situation.”
Bokusen-Oh laughed quietly. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Inuyasha is another matter, however. If backed into a corner to the point where his life is endangered, his demon blood takes control over the body to preserve his life. Unfortunately for Inuyasha, in that situation, the pure demon blood of his father outweighs his human half.”
“What will the outcome be?” Sesshomaru asked.
“The demon blood will gradually devour his human aspects, right down to his human soul. He will not be able to recognize himself, or differentiate between friend or foe – he will simply kill.”
“Why?” Sesshomaru asked. “Why would he be a different demon than I, if our demon blood comes from the same source?”
“You are born youkai,” Bokusen-Oh explained. “Your body is adapted for your youkai blood. Inuyasha’s is not. Each transformation will destroy him until he will eventually lose his very soul. He will become a monster who only knows how to fight and kill. He will continue to fight until he is destroyed. I sincerely doubt that your father would have wished that upon his own son.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Lord Tōga came to me with the Tessaiga and asked me to make a sheath that could contain the power of Tessaiga while still allowing the sword to connect with the youki of the one who wields it. He needed to ensure that Tessaiga would continue to protect the soul of Inuyasha, as it was intended when he bequeathed the sword to the younger son.”
Sesshomaru bowed curtly at Bokusen-Oh and turned, signaling for his followers that it was time to move on. He knew, of course, that some transformation had taken place, and that Inuyasha had not been himself in their last encounter. However, he had never expected such a permanent change could befall his brother. The idea that a mindless, death-driven monster could come from his house was the ultimate embarrassment upon his family name. Sesshomaru silently swore that he would track down the problem and ensure that it never came to light.
~*~
They made slow progress along the mountain path. Inuyasha had been on edge all day, senses heightened for any sign of danger while one hand rested on the hilt of Tessaiga and the other lay on Miroku’s thigh as the monk rode Kirara. They had left the village before dawn that morning, as to not push the villager’s goodwill. It was too soon – they should have rested for another few days at least. Miroku wasn’t ready for long days of travel, and the rest of them weren’t ready to see him in danger again. Miroku had insisted that he walk for the first little while, leaning heavily on his staff as he navigated the steep path. When the road became too rocky, he accepted the others’ urges to ride Kirara. The scent of his pain and the residual anger from the villagers swirled in Inuyasha’s mind, pushing out the surrounding farmland and keeping a constant thrum of nervous energy running beneath his skin. So when a frantic shout came from nearby, Tessaiga was in his hand in an instant.
“What was that?” Sango asked, Hiraikotsu lifted above her shoulder.
A young boy was careening towards them up the path, crying out desperately, limbs flailing. He tripped and fell but immediately scrambled back upright.
“What’s wrong?” Sango called out to him, feeling Inuyasha pressing close behind her.
“It’s my grandpa!” the boy shouted. “Please, you gotta help him!”
Inuyasha was running at him before he finished speaking. “Is it a demon? Where’s the old man?”
He followed the kid’s trembling gesture and his scent back through the fields, up the stairs of the rice paddies. The smell of human fear drew him forward, but oddly enough, there was no hint of demon.
“Help!” came a wild cry from just above him.
He craned his neck over the stairs to see an old man flopped over two of the levels, his legs barely resting on flat ground while the rest of his body hung flailing down the steep slope between levels.
“I’ve fallen!” the man said, somewhat unnecessary.
Inuyasha couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it as he helped the old man down. He couldn’t believe it as the others caught up, weapons at the ready, and were forced to hide their laughter. He couldn’t believe himself as he found himself agreeing to the old man’s pleas for a ride back to his village, unable to put any weight on his twisted ankle. Miroku began climbing down from Kirara to offer his seat, but Inuyasha stopped him with a growl, and hauled the old man over his own back instead.
“Thank you, lad,” the old man said cheerfully. “That’s a great help!”
“I thought a demon got you,” Inuyasha muttered under his breath. “But nooo… Getting us all worked up over nothing.”
He could feel Miroku and Sango grinning at the back of his head, which made it all that much worse.
“It’s a good thing they came along, huh, gramps?” the boy asked, looking up at Inuyasha with awe.
“I thought I would be stuck up there forever!” the old man said dramatically. “Unable to walk, starving, at the mercy of the elements…”
“No need to thank us,” Miroku said, and Inuyasha could hear the smile in his voice. “This is more or less on our way.”
“Well, I certainly am indebted,” the man said, patting Inuyasha’s shoulder with an arthritic old hand.
“It’s the village!” the boy cried out excitedly, pointing at it wildly. “Gramps, we’re almost home!”
They deposited the old man outside his hut, graciously waving off his thanks and the rather enthusiastic appreciation of his grandson.
“You saved us!” the boy was saying as Inuyasha tried surreptitiously to start walking away. “Thank you so much, dog-man-sama!”
“Dog-man-sama,” Inuyasha grumbled as Miroku snorted quietly behind him.
“We were happy to help,” the monk told them, slipping off Kirara’s back as he did so. Inuyasha eyed him incredulously, and he shrugged. “It will be good to stretch my legs.”
He began walking demonstratively, and Inuyasha had to admit that it was better than he’d feared. While Miroku still leaned rather heavily on his staff, his movements were relatively painless.
“You take care, now,” Sango said to the two villagers, visibly pleased at the entire turn of events.
“Wait!” the boy called out as they began to leave, digging in his robes. “You need to be paid for your help! I’m giving you my treasure!”
He darted forward and pressed something into Inuyasha’s hand before returning to his grandfather’s side, smiling widely. The two waved the group off, thanking them all the while.
“What did the boy give you?” Miroku asked gently as they walked away.
“A molted snake’s skin,” Inuyasha said, holding it out for him to see. He kept his voice carefully flat, but he held it delicately as though it were made of glass.
“Just what you always wanted!” Miroku grinned, the warmth unmistakable in his voice.
“Wow,” Shippo said, jumping onto his shoulder and tugging gently at his robes. “Can I have it, if you don’t want it?”
Inuyasha handed it over wordlessly. He crossed his arms as they walked, ignoring Shippo’s obvious delight at playing with the old snakeskin on Kirara’s head, and shoving down the warm bubble in his chest.
“We don’t have time for all this,” he grumbled, walking ahead of the rest of the group.
Miroku and Sango exchanged a look, keenly aware of the small tirade the hanyou had gone on just the previous day, when Miroku said he was ready to set off again and Inuyasha insisted that they stay put as long as they needed to.
“We didn’t go out of our way,” Sango said. “And it didn’t take too long. Besides, it’s always good to make allies.”
“Indeed,” Miroku nodded sagely. “They will be more likely to give us shelter in the future now that we’ve made friends.”
Inuyasha froze and spun around. “Should we be staying with them tonight? They’d probably let us, if we asked.”
Sango deftly spun him around and pushed him forward. “We can make it to the next village over before dark.”
Inuyasha glanced over at Miroku, unconvinced, but reluctantly followed as they continued on their way. While their movements were still hampered by the monk’s slower speed, they made steady progress, and were well past the edge of the rice paddies and into the forest beyond when Inuyasha slowed down, sniffing the air.
“What’s the matter?” Miroku asked, seeing the tension rising in his shoulders.
“I smell human blood,” Inuyasha murmured, turning to look back from where they’d come. “Smells like a lot of people.”
They all followed his gaze. Several thick plumes of smoke rose over the crest of one of the hills, in the direction of the village. When Inuyasha strained his ears, he could just make out the distant sounds of screams. They must have been attacked! The old man and the kid – he’d seen little of the village while they were there, but it was enough to know that there weren’t enough people to mount a defense. He took off running, knowing the others would follow.
Miroku took off after him but immediately stumbled, his leg crumpling under the sudden pressure. Sango, who had already swung herself onto Kirara’s back, caught him by the front of his robes and hauled him up behind her. As they approached the village, they saw a small figure walking haltingly along the path. They instantly recognized the boy, an arrow sticking from his shoulder. Inuyasha landed by his side as he sank to his knees but his hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of how best to help. Kirara slid to a stop and Sango dropped down beside them, wordlessly reaching out for the bandages which Miroku pressed into her palm.
“Please, help gramps,” the boy said, trembling from shock as tears streamed down his face.
“Stay with the kid!” Inuyasha ordered, honing in on the shouts and screams still coming from the village. He took off once more as the smell of blood, smoke, and pain accosted him. He could feel the heat from the burning houses scalding the air as he approached. Bandits ran between the burning buildings, slaughtering the men and dragging the women off to the sides, killing any who fought back too much. The ground was already littered with dead bodies. Inuyasha caught the first bandit that ran past and knocked them man unconscious with a single punch, but he was at a loss. They were just humans – he didn’t know how to fight against regular, unpossessed humans! But he knew that he couldn’t just leave them to it. If he had to fight his way through all of them one by one, then so be it!
He rounded the corner of one hut to see a bandit dragging a woman across the ground by her hair. “Move it! He wants all of you in one place. Don’t even try to escape, bitch!”
Inuyasha tore the man away from her and she scrambled back with a frightened cry. A group of women were huddled beside a house nearby, staring at him with wide eyes. The other bandits whipped around, alerted by his presence. Some of them were on horses, the rest on foot. Inuyasha unsheathed Tessaiga and swung it through the air sending a ripple of power shooting across the ground in a clear warning.
“Shoot him!” one of them ordered, and a volley of arrows flew towards him. He blocked most of them with the Tessaiga but pointedly caught a few in the air and snapped them with one hand.
“You done?” he growled as the bandits stared at him fearfully. “I’ll deal with you spineless cowards later. Where’s your leader?”
Because it wasn’t just human blood and burnt flesh that stunk up the air – there was the clear scent of a demon amongst the bandit filth. That, at least, was something for him to kill. A laugh came from the other side of the gathered men. The bandits all moved aside respectfully, making way for a human-like demon on a white horse. He was dressed in brightly coloured robes made from fine silk, and his face was painted with rouge on his lips and blush on his cheeks, black lines curling above his eyes. His scent was covered with a fine perfume, and he moved daintily despite the large war ax slung over his shoulder.
“Little man,” the demon drawled patronizingly. “That sword you brandish is most interesting.”
Inuyasha’s lip curled. “Controlling a bunch of bandits, are you? That’s low, even for a weak demon like you.”
A ripple passed through the bandits as they shifted and eyed one another nervously. Not common knowledge, then. Inuyasha guessed he could see why they wouldn’t have suspected – the demon appeared more or less human, without the brightly coloured eyes or hair, or even pointed ears of most human-looking youkai.
“Demon?” one of the bandits asked his companion quietly.
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!” another announced more brazenly. “You must be kidding.”
“Little man,” the demon smirked. “Hand over your sword.”
“What’re you blathering on about?” Inuyasha sneered, lifting Tessaiga. “You’re kidding yourself if you think I’m gonna let scum like you tell me what to do!”
The leader laughed and adjusted his ax over his shoulder. “If you won’t hand over that sword, I’ll have no choice but to take it from you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Inuyasha snarled quietly, dangerously. “Take it if you can!”
The demon raised his ax in a clear taunt. Inuyasha knew he was being baited, but he didn’t care – let the arrogant bastard be as cocky as he wanted! He’d show him what real power was. He hurled himself in a mighty leap, swinging Tessaiga over his head and bringing it down towards the demon, who was still atop his horse. The demon blocked the blow with his ax, the two blades clashing in a spray of sparks, and a chunk of steel flew from the demon’s flimsy weapon. His horse was knocked to the ground from the power of the attack, and the demon leapt off nimbly.
~*~
“The arrowhead’s embedded in the joint,” Sango said, tearing through the cloth around the boy’s wound. “We’re going to have to bind it with the head still inside.”
“We’re going after him, right?” Miroku said, already unrolling the long cotton strip to prepare for winding around the boy’s wound.
“I am,” Sango said firmly. “You’re staying here with Kirara and the children.”
“Not here,” Miroku countered, and pressed on when her gaze snapped to his, a protest on her lips. “It’s much safer to stick close together. Kirara can take us to the edge of the village and we’ll wait there.”
“Fine,” Sango said, grabbing the edge of the bandage from him and working together to bind it in a tight compress around the boy’s shoulder and chest. She knew that he needed proper medical attention, better than they could give and more than they had time for. She helped him onto Kirara’s back after Miroku and climbed on in front of them. The twin-tail bounded towards the village, slowing to a stop only when Sango told her to.
“I’ll call if we need you,” Sango said, tossing her carrying cloth with her travel clothes off to the side. “Stay out of harm’s way and don’t draw attention to yourselves!”
She left without another word, staying low to the ground as she approached the village unseen. Miroku waited for her to disappear from view before he also climbed off Kirara’s back.
“I have to go help them,” he said in response to her incredulous look. “Inuyasha still can’t handle Tessaiga properly. Keep Shippo and the boy safe for me, alright?”
“Wait, where are you going, Miroku?” Shippo called after him as he followed Sango’s path to the village. Miroku ignored him.
~*~
Sango crept in between the houses, taking in the human men stalking around with rusted swords and cheaply made armour, assessing the situation. She could see most of the bandits making their way to one side of the village, drawn by some commotion there. Those were the least likely to kill anyone, distracted by whatever was going on. She turned her attention to the few still scavenging around the houses, looking for anything to plunder or anyone trying to hide. Sango crept up behind one after another, striking them quickly and silently into unconsciousness. She checked each house that she passed – most of them were aflame, anyone inside long dead, but she came across a few survivors that the bandits hadn’t yet managed to find. She ushered them out with a few quiet words of reassurance and sent them in the direction of Miroku and Kirara. She had to trust that Inuyasha was taking on the brunt of the humans. She would make her way to him as soon as she could.
~*~
“Boss, are you okay?” one of the bandits called out, almost concerned as the leader picked himself up off the ground.
“He chipped that giant ax!” another gasped in awe.
“Serves you right,” Inuyasha spat, narrowing his eyes at the demon.
The demon continued to laugh, licking his lips satisfactorily. “That’s a mighty fine sword.”
Inuyasha heaved Tessaiga over his shoulder, grunting a little at its weight. “Yeah? If you like it so much, I’ll give you a better introduction.”
He charged. The demon glanced over his shoulder to where the group of women were huddled behind him, herded there by the bandits. He leapt back, landing next to them easily. Inuyasha slowed slightly – what the hell was this guy doing? As he watched, the demon picked up one of the women like she weighed nothing and hurled her bodily at Inuyasha. He struggled to catch her, but he couldn’t hold Tessaiga’s weight with one hand, and she ended up bouncing off him and to the ground. He tried to reach for her, to see if she was okay, but then the demon was rushing at him. He jumped back several times, drawing the fight away from the woman as she scrambled to her feet. She was quickly captured by the other bandits and yanked back to the others.
The demon opened his mouth and hissed, a waft of sticky yellow dust spewing from his mouth. It landed on Inuyasha’s face and he gasped as it burned into his skin where it made contact. He could feel blisters already forming, and the fumes stung his eyes. The demon chuckled as Inuyasha stumbled back, blinking rapidly. He picked up his discarded ax and licked it with an elongated tongue, coating it with even more poison. Then he leapt, and swung.
With the fumes clouding his vision and singeing his nose, swarming his senses, and Tessaiga dragging his arms down, Inuyasha could do nothing as the blade sliced across his exposed belly. He roared and lunged, sending a wave of power shooting from Tessaiga. It raced across the ground but the demon jumped into the air with surprising agility.
“That sword is amazing,” he said smoothly, slowing to a stop and hovering in the air. “I like it more and more!”
Inuyasha wished that he could come up with a scathing retort, but he could feel the poison burning into his abdomen, the blood dripping down his torso. The demon needed no response, merely opened his mouth, stretching it wide in a gaping display. Instead of poison, this time silk shot out, wrapping around Inuyasha with a life of his own. He swung at it with Tessaiga, but more and more kept coming, stinking of poison. This was bad! His limbs had grown unnaturally heavy, too much for just blood loss – the toxins must have had some paralytic effect. He couldn’t get away, he couldn’t defend himself, and for the first time in a long time, he was alone. There was no one around who could-
“Inuyasha!”
The shout came from the edge of the village, and Inuyasha’s heart slammed somewhere around his knees. His gaze snapped over to where Miroku was running at him, stumbling a little as his leg buckled under his weight. Several bandits moved to intercept him but he ran straight through them, striking one of them in the head with his staff when the man reached for him, breaking his nose. Inuyasha began to struggle in earnest – because Miroku couldn’t be here! Not with the poison! Not again! He channeled his youki through Tessaiga, burning through the silk which clung to it. With the last of his rapidly waning strength, he swung the sword in a wide arc around his body, slicing through the numerous silk strands surrounding him.
“No you don’t!” the demon shouted, and this time the sticky web latched onto Tessaiga’s blade, pulling it out of his hands before he had a chance to react.
Inuyasha fell to his knees, the poison surging through him faster than ever. The long lengths of silk began curling around him once more, creating an impenetrable curtain of white strands. But then Miroku was there, cutting through the wall with his staff, grasping Inuyasha’s shoulder to keep him upright. Inuyasha leaned against him heavily, trying to find the breath to warn him, to tell him to escape. But he could only watch as Miroku braced against him and lifted his staff, the head glowing brightly with concentrated spiritual power. Miroku began swinging it in a wide arc around them, the silk sizzling whenever it got too close to the purifying energy. But it wasn’t enough, there were simply too many strands, and the silk began to enclose them in a cocoon. Miroku kept up the broad strokes with his staff, leaving swaths of spiritual power trailing behind it with each pass, constructing a spiritual barrier piece by piece. His face was scrunched with concentration, sweat already adorning his brow. Inuyasha wished that he could do more to help than cling weakly to his robes, his other hand curled around his belly.
“Are you alright?” Miroku asked in a strained voice, covering his hands with his sleeves and used them to wipe away the stray silk covering Inuyasha's robes before it could burn its way to his skin.
“You idiot,” Inuyasha gasped, voice rough with pain. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your life,” came the curt response as Miroku poured all his strength into forming the barrier. He knew that it wouldn’t last for long – it was sloppy and malformed, took much more of his concentration that usual to uphold, and he could feel the poison which laced the silk already eating through his spiritual power.
Outside the cocoon, the bandits were shouting, confronting their leader.
“Is something the matter?” the demon’s voice asked smoothly from just outside the cocoon. “Are you afraid now that you know what I am?”
“No chance, boss!” came the surprising answer.
“Who wouldn’t want a strong demon for a leader?” another asked excitedly. “We’ll be invincible!”
“Well, that figures,” Miroku muttered grimly. “Yash, can you move?”
“Of course I can,” Inuyasha hissed. “I’ll rip this stupid cocoon apart and-”
He cut off with a sharp gasp, curling back against Miroku.
“Inuyasha?” Miroku asked sharply, craning his neck to see, wary of moving too much lest the barrier break apart completely.
“Damn,” Inuyasha groaned, and when his hand slid from his abdomen, it was slick with still-bubbling blood.
“You’re wasting your time in there,” the demon said jeeringly, speaking to them through the thick walls of silk. “You cannot move. My poison will have entered your bloodstream by now, and will continue to fester until it has devoured you completely.”
“Yash?” Miroku asked. Inuyasha back pressed against his chest, slumped on the ground as Miroku knelt behind him. His arms braced the hanyou’s shoulders as best he could as he held his staff lengthwise in front of them. The spiritual energy running up and down its length was all that kept the oppressive walls of silk from tumbling down upon them.
“Fetch that sword for me,” the demon called to one of the bandits, already bored with his prey.
“He’s got Tessaiga,” Miroku said worriedly. “Yash, I don’t think I can cut through the cocoon on my own.”
His mind was spinning, grasping at ideas, trying to find some way to escape. He could hear the bandit offering Tessaiga to the demon. Then a shout of pain and a swear, and the metallic clatter of the weapon falling to the ground. Tessaiga rejected the demon – some small comfort, at least.
“Little man!” the demon was back on the other side of the cocoon, angry and demanding. “What is the meaning of this?”
Inuyasha scoffed, though it came out a little choked. “I’ll tell you something about my Tessaiga – it’s choosy about its user. It would never let some weak demon like you come anywhere near it!”
“Then explain why this human scum is capable of holding it!” the demon demanded angrily. There was a pause, then a delighted sneer. “I see… Very interesting, little man. You’re a half-breed!” He laughed. “What a joke! A hanyou had the gall to pick a fight with me, Gatenmaru?”
Inuyasha forced his breath through clenched teeth. Red hot pain ripped through his torso, the smell of his blood joining the stench of poison in the air, mixing with Miroku’s own pain and fear in a potent blend which stained his mind. The wound refused to stop bleeding, coating his lap with a wash of deep red. Miroku was keeping up a constant stream of quiet reassurances, but Inuyasha could hear his heart pounding, smell the strain in his sweat.
“Hey, boss?” the bandit asked, jarring them both from their thoughts. “What should we do with the sword?”
“Do as you please,” Gatenmaru said dismissively, his voice fading as he walked away from the cocoon. “I have no interest in a sword I cannot use!”
~*~
Sango crept along the side of the house, holding up a finger to her lips when the group of women saw her. She shook her head at the frantic question in their eyes and motioned for them to stay still. One of them caught her gaze and looked pointedly over to where a demon stood beside a large mess of silk. A human knelt at his feet, holding a thin, lightly rusted sword – not just any sword. That was Tessaiga! Sango glanced around the area but she couldn’t see any sign of Inuyasha. But where could he have gone? Surely he wouldn’t have left the villagers to their fate! Had he been drawn away somewhere?
She kept low to the ground as she moved, weighing her options. She knew that she couldn’t take on the mass of twenty or so bandits alone – not if she was going to keep them alive. She could call Kirara, but that would leave the others unprotected, and she had no idea how many bandits were still wandering around the village. Her attention was drawn by a figure who lay just beyond the women. It was the old man from before! She winced as he pushed to his hands and knees, silently shouting for him to stay still! The bandits’ attention was elsewhere as they admired Tessaiga, but it would only be a matter of time before he was seen.
“Bring me a woman,” the demon instructed his men from where he sat on an old stump. The bandits rushed to obey, and Sango was forced to shrink back or else be discovered. The screams of the women pierced through her mind like a blade.
~*~
Inuyasha jerked back against Miroku as the panicked screams filled the air. The breath froze in his lungs and his muscles tensed to snap as his youki flared within him. His ears flattened against his head and his fingers curled, digging his claws into his thighs.
“No!” came another frantic shout.
“Damn him,” Inuyasha snarled, his vision flashing red.
Miroku gasped as he felt the undeniable pull of power from Inuyasha. He could feel the energy around them changing, the transformation starting to take hold.
“Just hang on,” he begged, but the words rang hollow in his ears. The barrier was pulsing with its dying presence, the poison starting to drip through in places. Outside, the desperate struggles of the unfortunate woman were growing louder as she approached the demon, her fate surely sealed. Even if there was a way to break through the cocoon without meeting a barrage of poison, Miroku knew he would be no match against the horde of bandits – he could barely keep his feet as it was. And Inuyasha’s breath was coming in sharp, rasping gasps, a thick demonic aura filling the air as the world dissolved around them.