Crossover Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Journey to the City of Endless Night ❯ Chapter Seventy-Eight ( Chapter 78 )

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Chapter Seventy-Eight

 

“Let me go!” Silk struggled, trying to free his pinned arms. His panicky voice was a harsh whisper. “Damn it, monk. The cave is going to collapse and crush us!”

 

The demon smashed its fists into the barrier and howled in fury. The terrible sound reverberated inside the cave, causing Miroku's ears to ring. It did not help alleviate the excruciating migraine building behind his left eye. If not for his barrier, however, the monk knew that the spy would be right. As it was, he wasn't certain he could maintain it for much longer.

 

Miroku firmed his grip on Silk's wrists, pinning his arms above the terror stricken man. “And if you go out there, that demon will kill you.”

 

Silk had been struggling since the sun had set. Once utter darkness had consumed the cave, the spy had panicked. Miroku was grateful for the enclosed space, as it made it harder for Silk to attack successfully. That didn't mean, however, that the spy hadn't landed a few blows. Miroku rubbed his jaw, feeling the tender flesh where he surely knew a bruise was forming.

 

“Come out, monk,” the demon's guttural growl taunted. “It is futile to avoid the inevitable. I promise thee that thy demise shall be quick and painless.”

 

Miroku grit his teeth. He could feel his migraine shift to his temple, the sharp pains making it hard to think. He began to recite a mantra to calm himself, “I go for refuge to the Buddha. I go for refuge to the Dhamma. I go for refuge to the Sangha.”

 

Silk panted heavily, falling limp. Miroku knew better. The spy was resting so that he could start the struggle again. He bit out sardonically, “Isn't it a little late for prayer, my spiritual friend?”

 

Miroku sighed in exasperation. “Do you have a better idea?”

 

The full force of the demon's strikes hit the mountain above. It bellowed, the sound echoing inside, surrounding them. Chunks of rock splintered from the ceiling, sending debris cascading down towards them. A hunk of stone crashed into Miroku's shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain.

 

“Shit!” Miroku exclaimed. He let go of Silk's wrists to clutch his shoulder. A sharp pain etched its way across the monk's back. It distracted him from his insufferable migraine. He could feel his barrier slip through his fingers, and he had to scramble to rebuild it before it was too late.

 

“Belar! It's caving in! We have to get out of here!” Silk screamed shrilly. He pushed on Miroku's chest, trying to dislodge him. “Get off of me, monk! I'm not going to die under all of this rock!”

 

Miroku rushed to grasp the distraught spy's wrists. He was a fraction of a second too late. Silk, with deadly rapid precision, seized the monk's instead. With his free hand, the spy landed a blow to Miroku's jaw. He grunted, falling back awkwardly and landed on a small rock. It knocked the wind out of him, giving Silk the upper hand.

 

Silk lunged forward, tackling the monk. He fought to pin Miroku's arms above his head. For a small, thin man, the spy was incredibly strong. His grip was bone crushingly powerful. The monk twisted his hips, trying to position his legs for a forceful kick. Silk tangled his legs with Miroku's, wrestling him to the ground. Miroku gasped in pain when he felt the brunt of the spy's fist in his gut. The monk collapsed, stunned.

 

“I am not going to die in this godforsaken cave,” Silk hissed. “I refuse.”

 

Miroku wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “You can't go out there.” The monk coughed, pain radiating throughout his body. He choked out, “Demon.”

 

“Yes, I know,” Silk replied contemptuously. He fit his hand around Miroku's throat, squeezing slightly. Miroku could feel Silk's thumbnail dig in painfully. “I know there's a demon. I don't care. I will die any other way than buried alive in a cave. I can promise you that.”

 

A hollow crash rocked the cave as the demon's assault created a larger fissure in Miroku's barrier. It caused a shower of debris to rain down upon them. The demon howled long and loud, the sound filling the cave with its horrifying reverberations. Miroku could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as the evil permeating the area flooded him. It took everything in the monk not to scream in terror.

 

Silk buckled, crushing Miroku under his heavy weight. He screamed in absolute terror, its tenor anguished. The spy started to tremble violently. “I have to get out. Get me out of here!”

 

Miroku shifted, wrenching an arm free. He had to get Silk under control before it was too late. As frightened as he was by their current predicament, the monk had to keep his panic from overcoming him. Carefully, Miroku pulled his arm back and curled his hand into a tight fist. He had to dislodge Silk so he could turn the tables.

 

As he was about to land his punch, Silk stopped it, crushing Miroku's fist in his hand. The monk struggled underneath the spy, trying to kick desperately. Silk deftly backhanded Miroku, effectively dazing him. His headache roared back to life, and even in this pitch darkness he could see bright flashes of light behind his tightly shut eyelids.

 

“Oh no you don't, my spiritual friend,” Silk snarled. “You can die here if you want, but I'm getting out of here even if I have to commit murder. I promised myself a very long time ago that I would never ever ever die in a cave. You won't make me break that promise.”

 

The demon boomed, “Thou art a coward, monk! Thou thinkest to hide under a mountain in hopes that it wilt keep thee safe?” It chuckled, the sound ominous and inhuman deep in its throat. “The folly of mortals amuses me, but it is their screams that thrill me. Scream, monk. Scream as thy companion hath done. It is music to mine ears.”

 

Miroku pushed back his panic. He needed to regain control of the situation or they would surely die in this cave. Carefully, the monk shifted his body, positioning himself to dislodge the spy. He managed to slip a leg free from the tangle of their intertwined limbs. Gradually, Miroku bent his knee so he could land a kick. In the darkness, he guessed that his target would be Silk's abdomen.

 

Silk bashed his knee into Miroku's, causing the monk to yelp in pain. He felt his leg curl into an awkward angle, as the tight space didn't allow for much movement. Throbbing pain added another layer to the aches already wracking his body. Miroku bit his lip and crumpled. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his afflicted body.

 

Cool metal settled against the column of the monk's throat. Silk hissed, “I meant what I said, monk. If you don't get out of my way, I will slit your throat and leave you behind. I will not die here. You can't force me to stay in this revolting cave. I have a wife and a son, and I am not about to die here.”

 

Miroku swallowed, feeling the sharp edge of Silk's dagger scrape his skin. “I'm not about to die here, either. Believe me, Silk.”

 

“Then prove it.”

 

The monk sighed. “That's why I have my barrier. It's all we have right now. We can't fight that demon. If we try, we will die here. What we have to do is remain calm. We can't allow our fear to consume us.”

 

The demon bashed its powerful fists into the mountain again. Gravel came cascading down into the chamber, pelting them. “Face me, monk. Die a death of honor and face me.”

 

Silk ducked, shrieking in horror. The hand holding the dagger slipped, slightly nicking Miroku's throat. “We're going to die in here!”

 

Miroku took advantage of Silk's inattention. He thrust his elbow, shoving it into the spy's chin. Silk yelped and fell back, freeing the monk. Quickly, Miroku lunged, pinning Silk underneath him. He heard the clatter of the spy's blade as it scraped against the stone. Silk scrambled frantically, trying to push Miroku off. The monk quickly jabbed his knee into the spy's stomach, causing Silk to grunt.

 

“Get off of me, monk!”

 

Miroku gripped the spy's wrists tightly in one hand and pushed him down with the other. He pinned Silk to the cavern floor, his knees squarely on the spy's hips. Silk thrashed frantically, soft whimpers escaping his throat. Miroku could feel him shift, trying to free his legs so that he could kick. Miroku spread his knees apart to straddle the hysterical man. Silk twisted his wrists, trying to free them. The monk leaned forward, pinning the spy with his chest. It was an uncomfortable position, but given the circumstances, Miroku didn't see much of a choice.

 

The monk closed his eyes and concentrated, despite the unending pounding in his head. The momentary lapse of anger and frantic struggle with Silk had allowed the demon to penetrate his barrier. Even so, Miroku knew that they were on borrowed time. If Silk's sarcasm could so easily distract him, he knew he wouldn't be able to sustain his barrier for all that much longer. He had to think of a way out of this and fast.

 

“It will not be long, monk. Prepare thy soul for the depths of Hell, for the King of Hell himself will be awaiting thee,” the demon bellowed.

 

Miroku recited the second stanza of the refuge mantra in an effort to block the demon's taunts, “For the second time I go for refuge to the Buddha. For the second time I go for refuge to the Dhamma. For the second time I go for refuge to the Sangha.”

 

His shoulder throbbed from the rock striking it. His splitting headache assailed him with sharp stabs of pain. The monk's legs ached from being in such an awkward position. Miroku's neck felt stiff, and he turned his head, trying to relieve the pressure building at the base of his skull. He was becoming physically and emotionally exhausted.

 

Silk squirmed underneath him, grunting. He tried to tug his wrists free so he could strike Miroku. The monk gripped each wrist in a hand and slammed them to the cave floor to overwhelm the spy. Silk yelped in pain, and Miroku could hear the soft thwack of bone meeting rock.

 

The spy babbled almost incoherently, his voice tight with terror, “Going to die. So much rock. Can't breathe.”

 

The small cave began to constrict around Miroku. It seemed the air became oppressive and heavy, much like the rock surrounding them. It was so dark. He had no idea how long they had been trapped. He was certain that it had to have been hours by now.

 

They couldn't possibly venture further into the cave. Silk's panic attack simply would not permit it. Miroku wasn't about to leave the spy to explore deeper. He knew that if they were to be separated, they'd both be as good as dead. Besides, the likelihood that the cavern ended in a dead end was a chance Miroku wasn't about to entertain.

 

“No! I can't!” Silk cried out, his voice a desperate whine. He bucked against Miroku, his movements frenzied. He sobbed softly, the sound heart wrenching. “I'll die if I do that, Relg. Please, don't make me.”

 

Miroku frowned, perplexed. “What? Who's Relg?”

 

“Belar! I can feel the rock sliding right through me!” Silk managed to pull a wrist free and swung his fist aimlessly, missing Miroku's chin. “I'd rather have Taur Urgas execute me, you blind zealot!”

 

The stone above groaned after the demon landed another massive blow. They became incessant, a constant drumming on the mountain. It was becoming painfully obvious that if the demon couldn't flush them, it was intent upon burying them under rock. Miroku wasn't certain that his barrier could withstand the unrelenting battering, even if he could uphold it. Time was almost up.

 

“Silk!” Miroku shouted, trying to snap the spy out of his mental nightmare. “It's me, Miroku.” The monk grasped the spy's chin in his hand. He fumbled Silk's wrists within the other, trying to restrain him from flailing. “Focus on me, Silk. Say this with me. For the third time I go for refuge to the Buddha. For the third time I go for refuge to the Dhamma. For the third time I go for refuge to the Sangha.”

 

“You shall perish, monk!” the demon roared. “Since thou wilt not face me, I shall bury thee under this mountain. It will be thy tomb.”

 

It crashed its fists into the rock, the sound thunderous inside the cave. Debris tumbled down, coating them. The monk ducked down, blanketing Silk's body with his own. Another small rock collided with Miroku, this time at the small of his back. The monk grunted, feeling a sharp pain radiate through his body. It caused him to collapse entirely onto Silk, his legs too weak to support him.

 

Silk screamed in horror, the sound echoing with the crashing of the demon's bombardment on the mountain. “It's everywhere! Too much rock!” He howled loudly in terror, struggling with renewed vigor. “I can't. I can't. I'm not you, Relg. I can't walk through rock. Please.” He panted heavily as he began to hyperventilate violently. “It's over. Dear Belar, it's over. I'm dying.”

 

Miroku squeezed his eyes tightly shut and clenched his teeth together. He could feel the fringes of his barrier tear. Each blow from the demon above penetrated one of the holes forming. His entire body throbbed in agonizing pain. All of his energy went to his concentration, trying to prevent his barrier's ultimate collapse.

 

“Pray that thy soul is ready, monk,” the demon thundered. “Thy life ends now!”

 

They couldn't possibly venture out into the open. The demon would catch and devour them before they could find another place to hide. It was painfully obvious that their current place wouldn't suffice much longer. If something was not done and soon, they would die. It was only a matter of time now.

 

Miroku squeezed his cursed hand into a tight fist. It was their only chance. The monk had exhausted all other possibilities before arriving at what he knew had been their only option all along. Miroku had simply hoped that his barrier would be sufficient enough.

 

Resolved at what he had to do, Miroku lifted himself off the spy. Instantly, Silk curled up tightly into a ball, sobbing and screaming incoherently. The monk sighed, gently rubbing the man's shoulder. “Please. Stay behind me. I don't want to pull you in, too.”

 

Slowly, with the pain racking his body, Miroku crossed towards the cave entrance. A strange calm overcame him and his racing mind cleared. The monk shattered his barrier by yanking his staff free from the ground. He turned, stabbing the butt of it into the dirt by the cave's entrance. Miroku closed his eyes and recited a silent prayer. Although it was a demon, he was still taking a life. Once he released his Wind Tunnel, there would be no turning back.

 

“So thou hast the courage to face me after all, monk,” the demon sneered. It turned, a gruesome smile crossing its hideous face. “This shall be thy folly. I shall devour thee and thy companion. Thou wouldst been served better to perish under the mountain.”

 

Miroku stared up at the monstrosity towering above him. It looked like a composite of creatures all mashed together to make one. In the darkness, he could see the massive arms flex, the claws on the end of each hand preparing to strike. In the pale moonlight of the last quarter moon, its four eyes reflected a gruesome, eerie green light. Unlike Nahaz, this demon lacked any humanoid semblances. It was the very picture of what a demon from Hell should look like.

 

He clutched the beads restraining his Wind Tunnel, rolling them between his fingers. “I would not be so certain of that, demon.”

 

The demon snorted incredulously and then began to laugh, the sound a grating rasp. “Thou dares to defy me? Thou? Thou thinks to stand up against me? Thou art nothing more than a mortal. An insect underneath my feet. What could thou possibly do to stop me? I am a demon, spawned from the very pit of Hell. My sire is Nahaz, Lord of Darkness.”

 

Miroku tilted his chin up in defiance. He set his expression into one of determination and answered calmly, “It is my duty as a Buddhist monk to do so.”

 

An evil grin twisted the demon's lips. “Thou art not a magician. Thou hast not the protection of a magician's circle. Thou art not most certainly a God. By what power wilt thou stop me, monk? Through this Buddha you begged for refuge from? It shall amuse me all the more to extinguish thy life for thy brazenness to stand up against one such as I. Thou wilt die.”

 

Miroku nodded. “Yes. That is a distinct possibility, one I am fully reconciled with. I have been preparing for my death for quite some time, and if it shall be today, then so be it.”

 

“Then be prepared to meet the King of Hell, Buddhist monk Miroku.”

 

Miroku outstretched his hand, preparing to free the beads. Just as the demon charged, he did so, unleashing the awesome power of his curse. He could feel the immense winds roar to life, pulling everything inside. The vortex sucked in rocks and trees, both disappearing forever. Miroku braced his arm, preventing a backlash that would have knocked him on his backside. The winds swirled stronger, an indication his curse had once again grown.

 

The demon's glowing eyes widened in shock. It tried to back away, its multiple arms scrambling to grasp the mountain. It howled, this time the sound frightened. Slowly, the massive beast dragged across the ground, its claws gouging the dirt as it was pulled towards its impending doom. It raised its hideous muzzle to the sky and cried, “Nahaz! Magrash Klat Grichack! Nahaz!”

 

Slowly, the demon was pulled into his Wind Tunnel, its gigantic size being reduced to a finite point. Even though his victim was a spawn of Hell, Miroku knew the gravity of what he was doing. The life may have been evil, but it was still a life he was taking. The monk never took it lightly. Knowing that in all likelihood that it would one day be his own fate reminded him to take responsibility for those he inflicted the Wind Tunnel upon. Despite living with the curse his entire life, he still didn't know what happened to those unfortunate to meet their demise within it. For that, he always had a healthy respect for its power and what it represented.

 

The demon tossed its massive head from side to side, howling in absolute horror. It was drawn into the void, with no hope for escape. Even now, if Miroku had wanted to stop, he couldn't. The die had been cast. And then, with a sudden strengthening force, the demon disappeared into the depths of Miroku's Wind Tunnel forever. It was complete. The threat that the monstrosity spawned from Nahaz represented had been vanquished. Somehow, despite its malefic existence, Miroku's victory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

An abrupt piercing pain coursed through the monk, causing him to collapse to his knees. He gasped at its ferocity. Miroku struggled to re-wrap his beads around the curse in his hand. It continued to pull the landscape apart. Rocks and trees hurtled into its depths.

 

Finally managing to seal the Wind Tunnel, Miroku collapsed fully into the dirt. He clenched his gloved hand into a tight fist. He should have known that pulling in such an evil being would have its consequences. Rubbing his arm, he clearly felt the lines of poison etching its way up towards his shoulder. Pulling the sleeve of his robe up, he could see dark marks mar his skin. He felt duped. If Nahaz couldn't succeed in killing him at the palace of Mal Yaska, the demon would find another avenue to finish him off. It was ironic.

 

Nausea overcame the monk and he had to turn his head. His stomach contents emptied, a viscous puddle staining the ground. It hurt to breathe and his throat burned. His head pounded in dizzying pain. Miroku could not recall a worse night than this.

 

Carefully, on wobbly hands and knees, the monk crawled towards the cave entrance. He panted, fighting back a fresh wave of nausea. Leaning against cool stone, he closed his eyes. Miroku felt beads of sweat form, coating his body under his robes. He licked his dry lips, becoming incredibly thirsty.

 

Hesitantly, Silk emerged from the cave. Miroku opened his eyes to slits. In the gloom, he could make out the shape of the spy. He gingerly inched his way on hands and knees towards Miroku, wary in his approach. Miroku could tell that witnessing the Wind Tunnel's awesome power had shaken the spy from his stupor.

 

“What---what in Belar's name was that?” Silk whispered, his voice trembling.

 

Miroku shuddered and gasped as racking pain rocketed throughout his body. He squeezed his hands into tight fists and his eyes shut. His breathing became staccato and he clenched his teeth in an attempt not to scream. He could feel venom rush through his veins. It was hot and acidic. His skin burned and itched with fever.

 

“That was my Wind Tunnel.”

 

“That---that was you?” Silk asked, his tone one of awe.

 

“Yes.” Miroku winced when he felt an ache settle in his chest. He whispered sarcastically, “See what Naraku blessed me with?”

 

“Remind me to thank him when I finally meet him.”

 

Miroku started to laugh, the sound a whistling wheeze. Quickly, it became a body racking cough. It hurt, sharp pains flooding his torso. He felt tears stream down his cheeks as his eyes watered. The monk's lungs burned and he had to take stuttering breaths to pull in air.

 

“I'm sure that will make him happy.”

 

“I do aim to please.” Silk settled against the rock next to Miroku, drawing his knees to his chest. The spy withdrew a flask, the slosh of liquid cutting into the silence as he drank. “Want some?”

 

Miroku nodded. He accepted the flask and took a long drink, his hand shaking. The wine was cool and soothed his raw throat. The monk handed it back, so not to spill it. “Thank-you.”

 

The monk stared up at the pale sliver of a moon in the sky. The stars surrounding it seemed brighter, somehow more perfect and beautiful. Miroku clenched and unclenched his hand, trying to ignore the agonizing pain. The venom was saturating his body, settling into every pore and setting him afire with a fresh fever. He needed a distraction.

 

With the danger of the demon over, the monk knew that they were still vulnerable. It was imperative that he stay awake. If another demon found them, he'd have to defend them. In this darkness, anything could be lurking. He couldn't leave Silk unprotected.

 

Miroku shifted, wincing as a rock dug in between his shoulder blades. He whispered, “Silk,why don't you tell me about your country?”

 

Silk snorted. “It's mucky.”

 

“How so?” Miroku gasped as he felt the venom sink deeper into his body.

 

“It's mostly fens. Except for a couple of cities, the rest is one dreary marsh,” Silk replied sardonically. “It's cold most of the year. I wouldn't recommend living in Drasnia.”

 

“I see.” Miroku bit his lip so not to yelp. His entire body throbbed in exquisite pain. He choked out, “Tell me about this Academy you've mentioned in the past.”

 

“Alright.” The monk heard the spy shift in the darkness. “Our Intelligence Service has its headquarters in Boktor. We spend years training our agents. At first, they'll learn anything from how to pick a lock to walk silently. First year students typically receive low grade assignments. They'll tail, eavesdrop, and report on lesser important targets.”

 

“I assume the assignments become more difficult as they progress.”

 

“Yes.” Silk paused to take another drink. “They're monitored. Usually they're tailing a decoy, a plant. It's how to test how adept they are. It isn't until they graduate that they can take on a mission without supervision.” The spy cleared his throat. “I have whole classes devoted to teaching my techniques.”

 

“What was your first assignment after graduation?”

 

Miroku licked his lips. He swallowed, a vile taste filling his mouth. He took a few deep measured breaths, trying to combat a fresh wave of nausea. The monk began to cough, the sound deep and harsh. It made his throat burn and his chest ache as he tried desperately to take in air.

 

“Are you alright?” Silk asked, his voice alarmed.

 

Miroku nodded, choking through his coughing spasm, “Yes. Just keep talking.”

 

“If you say so, my spiritual friend.” Silk took a deep breath. “Ah yes. My first assignment. I had two, actually.”

 

“Two?”

 

“Yes.” Silk took another drink. “Here. It might help.”

 

Miroku took a few breaths, glad that his coughing spell had passed. He took the flask from Silk and took another long drink. It was cool and soothing. “Well, are you going to tell me about it or not, Silk?”

 

“I'm thinking,” Silk replied. The gentle slosh of liquid reached the monk's ears as the spy took the flask back, drinking from it. “Well, I wasn't on the very first assignment for very long. I was twenty, and Javelin took me to Tol Honeth to cut my teeth on Tolnedran politics.”

 

“What happened that you weren't on that assignment for very long?”

 

“In a word: Belgarath.” The spy snorted. “He came into the Drasnian Embassy in Tol Honeth and asked Javelin how good I was. He had a very special assignment for me and judging by his impatience at the time, it seemed important.”

 

“So what did Belgarath want you to do?” Miroku rasped. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed. He didn't want to give the spy any more reason to wonder if he was alright. Silk didn't need to know how poisoned he was.

 

“He wanted me to locate someone---someone very important though I didn't know just how much at the time.” Silk sighed. “The man in question went by the name of Chamdar or Asharak the Murgo. He had done something immensely offensive to Belgarath and our ancient friend turned to the best to find him.”

 

“You?”

 

“Of course.” Silk chuckled softly. “As soon as Belgarath had said his name, I knew exactly what inn Asharak was staying at in Tol Rane. I may have been a novice, but I had connections in every corner of the Kingdoms of the West---even then.”

 

Miroku shivered, feeling chilled. He clenched his hand into a tight fist. His skin was cold and clammy. An immense throbbing pain radiated throughout his body. He bit his lip, trying not to gasp. “What happened next?”

 

“Well, we tracked Asharak to Tol Bourne.” Silk drank noisily from his flask. “But it wasn't Asharak. It was a decoy.”

 

“Who was this Asharak?”

 

“He was a Grolim. One that had committed an unforgivable crime.” Silk's voice took on a sharp edge. “Asharak was responsible for killing Garion's parents. I didn't know that then, but I think he's received his just punishment.”

 

Miroku rubbed his temple. He opened his eyes, curious through the pain. “What was that?”

 

“I didn't get to witness it, but Garion set him on fire with sorcery,” Silk said, his tone hard. “That happened years after Asharak played cat and mouse with Belgarath and I.”

 

“I see.” Miroku's brows furrowed, and he winced when he felt his arm shoot with a wicked fire of pain. “How did finding a phony Asharak prove how skillful you are? After all, Belgarath hired you to find the real one.”

 

“Not my fault, my spiritual friend.” Silk sighed. “Remember he was a Grolim. Other Murgos were made to look like Asharak, through sorcery. To my credit, I pointed it out that Asharak was phony when he seemed off. I had dealt with him in the past.”

 

“So, did you ever go back to your other assignment?” Miroku clenched his teeth, taking short breaths.

 

“No.” Silk laughed. He clapped Miroku on the shoulder, gently rubbing it. “No. I became fully employed by the Ancient One. My first assignment out of the Academy garnered me the best and most important post in the history of the Drasnian Intelligence. I was born for this.”

 

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Miroku balled his cursed hand into a fist. His palm itched and he had to resist pulling his beads off to scratch it.

 

“Someday my son Rhodar will enter the Academy. It is our national Industry, after all.”

 

Miroku twisted his robes between his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a burst of poison run through him. He could tell that this was a slow acting venom. It might take several hours for it to kill him. He panted, waiting for this spasm to pass. He silently recited a mantra, trying to push his anxiety away.

 

The monk asked, only able to say short phrases, “Your son?”

 

“Yes.” Silk replied, his voice proud. “He's only two, but I can tell that he's already a natural talent. He might end up running the entire agency someday. Personally, I hope he sticks to traveling the world on assignment. It's much more exciting and it keeps the skills sharp.”

 

“What---” the monk began, only to be overwhelmed with a cough. He tucked his face into his shoulder to muffle it, not wanting to draw concern from Silk. “Does he---look like?”

 

“Like the spitting image of me, except blonde like his mother,” Silk said. “That nose will be his best advantage and his worst hindrance. Everyone and no one thinks that I'm a spy when I work it to my advantage.”

 

“Any more children?” Miroku whispered.

 

“No. Not yet.” Silk paused, scuffing his foot into the dirt. “I'd like more, though. A daughter perhaps. Women sometimes make for better spies.”

 

The monk chuckled again, then coughed. He felt another wave of pain rush through him and he bit his lip to hold back a whimper. Miroku stuck a fist into his mouth and bit down hard. These pain spasms were increasing at an alarming rate. He shuddered, suddenly feeling chilled.

 

“How about you, my spiritual friend?” Silk chuckled softly. “You surely ask enough of the fairer sex.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Silk moved, repositioning himself. “What do you mean no?”

 

“My curse.” Miroku took a few deep breaths. “My child will be inflicted with it if I don't kill Naraku. I can't let my child suffer it.”

 

Silk whistled. “So you inherited it, eh?”

 

“Yes. I am the third to have it.”

 

“Then what's the big push to ask anything female?”

 

Miroku sighed. He moved his head, trying to relieve the tightness in his shoulders. “If I have no heir and fail against Naraku, he wins.”

 

Silk whistled again. “You're in quite the rock and a hard place, my spiritual friend.”

 

“I am well aware.” Miroku clenched his teeth. The slow burn of toxins seeping throughout his body reached all of his extremities, making them stiff.

 

“Wait, what about Sango?”

 

“What---do you mean?”

 

“You're courting her, and you're pretty serious about it, I might add.” Silk shifted to face him.

 

“I am.”

 

“Then how can you have this stance on not having children?” Silk stood, pacing, the soft sound of his footsteps reaching Miroku's ears. “Sango's impressively strong, a masterful fighter, and someone I'd love to have protecting my back. But she is still a woman.”

 

The monk slowly leaned forward. He winced, the stiffness of his back adding to his discomfort. He whispered, “Meaning?”

 

“Meaning that if you're lucky enough in your courting that she'll agree to marry you that she will want children.”

 

“If it comes to me proposing, we'll wait until after Naraku is defeated.”

 

“That's very selfish of you.”

 

“I don't understand. How so?”

 

Silk continued pacing. “Have you even thought of asking the lady in question about any of this? She is part of the equation, after all.”

 

Miroku sucked in air, trying not to vomit again. His body was becoming numb. He whispered, his voice raspy, “She will understand. We both have to defeat Naraku for our own reasons.”

 

“No. She won't,” Silk retorted. “She'll pretend to understand. What she will be is confused and hurt.”

 

The venom swirled through the monk's body, making him lightheaded. It made it incredibly hard for Miroku to concentrate. His mouth was becoming unbearably dry and his tongue thick and stiff. He whispered, “You don't know Sango as I do.”

 

“Oh, but I do.” Silk sat down in the dirt on Miroku's other side. “Sango is very much like my Liselle. She's intelligent, proud, and capable, but she's vulnerable, too. When she becomes her most defensive, that's when she becomes her most insecure. Sango's the same way.”

 

“Sango knows what we face.”

 

“Don't be such a martyr.”

 

Miroku took another wheezing breath. “Excuse me?”

 

“How about the word coward? Would you prefer that?” Silk snorted.

 

Miroku swallowed, the action painful. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed. “Sango knows that our future is uncertain. She knows that as long as Naraku is around we will be in danger and so would any children.”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

“Yes.” Miroku sighed. He slowly clenched his cursed hand into a tight fist. It seemed to ease the pain in his palm.

 

“Are you in love with her?”

 

The monk paused, licking his lips. He saw Sango in his mind's eye. Vivacious, strong, and beautiful, she was the first woman he was ever truly attracted to. Sango knew most of his intimate fears. She had seen him at his best and at his worst. She knew of his curse and knew what it meant. Even so, the demon slayer stayed.

 

Miroku nodded slowly. “Yes.”

 

“Then you should tell her.” Silk drank from his flask.

 

“My curse---” Miroku began, only to cough.

 

“That is such a cop out.” Silk snorted in disgust. “So you have a curse that will kill you and your children will inherit. Big deal. I've lived my whole life facing the possibility that the other side will win. We'd be slaughtered in the millions, enslaved, and tortured from birth unto death. Drasnia faced that very fate when Torak himself stormed through my country on his way to Vo Mimbre five hundred years ago. I've heard all of the stories my entire life. I've also seen what our future under a Dark God, be it Torak or Naraku, might be like for the world. We'd be the Thulls, slaves and sacrificial lambs to the Grolim knife.”

 

“It's not the same,” the monk rasped in protest.

 

“It is exactly the same, Miroku.” Silk pitched a rock into the darkness. “At any one of these EVENTS, the world can decide which Prophecy it wants. If it picks the Dark Prophecy, we will suffer until the very last day of this world's existence. But I won't allow that possibility to stop me from living my life.”

 

Miroku held up his cursed hand. “I don't want to inflict this upon another child.”

 

“Miroku, trust me on this. I dodged commitment to Liselle---partly because I wasn't sure I was ready, partly because I didn't want to pull her into this mess. She wouldn't hear of it. The more I pushed her away, the more persistent she became.” Silk paused, throwing more rocks. “Then I pushed a little too hard and I almost lost her. I realized then that life is too short to wait for things to settle down or to be resolved.”

 

“I haven't pushed Sango away.” Miroku groaned softly, clutching his robes as a spasm of pain tore through his body.

 

“No. But if you want to hurt her, you'll keep courting her on false pretenses.” Silk rubbed his shoulder. “I'm fifty-three years old, fifteen years older than my wife. Yet, she was the one who knew we'd be together for the rest of our lives, even before I did.” The spy sighed. “Listen, what you face is scary, but if you let your fear consume you, Naraku wins. You only live once, my spiritual friend. It is so much easier to die than it is to live. But the rewards for trying are entirely worth it. At least think about it, okay?”

 

Miroku gasped in pain. He whispered, his voice weak, “I will. I promise.”

 

“You'll see. Everything will work out.” Silk chuckled. “Trust me.”

 

Miroku opened his eyes, seeing the pale gray of dawn's approach. They had made it through the night. He sighed in relief, his exhausted mind and body becoming numb. It took so much effort to remain awake. The comforting blackness of sleep beckoned to him. Surely he could rest a few minutes and they would be alright. He felt the venom settle over his mind like a blanket, unable to fight any longer. The monk closed his eyes and leaned his head back, giving into the painless slumber.

 

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