InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Bed Ridden ❯ A Dream of the Future ( Chapter 1 )

General Info: Round Robin #1 for Monk_and_Miko

Title: Bed Ridden

Story Summary: He's lived through a cursed hand, demons and a hanyou with an attitude-but can our sixteenth century Houshi take the stimulation of the twentieth century? [MK]

Rating: PG-13

Chapter Author: Ms. Videl Son

Chapter Summary: Somehow, Miroku's dreams were never like this before...

Disclaimer: I somehow doubt any of us own InuYasha. If it were so, you could bet that Kagome wouldn't end up with InuYasha...

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Chapter One: A Dream of the Future

Startled awake, Miroku's eyes flew open in wild panic. An impossibly white glare burned his retinas and he immediately shut them again, moaning his displeasure.

"Ah..." he complained, squeezing his eyelids closed so that not a shred of light seeped through. Bright spots danced before the black canvas of his closed lids, flaring like angry sun bursts. He lifted his non-cursed hand to rub against his aching eyes, sucking a pained breath through his clenched teeth as the simple movement caused his muscles to complain vociferously.

"Ow..." he complained again, vowing to purify whatever demon had run him over to hell.

"You're awake." a friendly voice chirped. A soft rustling of cloth, a sharp clang of metal against metal and the sweet smell of perfume accompanied the voice as footsteps steadily neared him.

Tentatively, Miroku opened his eyes again, using his hand as a shield against the blinding light. The smiling face of a lovely woman drifted into view, dark almond-shaped eyes peering at him curiously from behind a curtain of soft brown curls that bounced jauntily with each delicate step.

"How are you feeling?" the woman asked, leaning over to place a cool hand against his forehead. Miroku, still in a dazed, sleep-induced stupor, declined comment. The woman laughed. "That good, huh?" she chuckled, adjusting the clasps of the strange necklace around her neck to fit snugly inside her ears.

She lifted the pendulum, a small disk of metal dangling from a rope of unidentifiable substance, and slipped it beneath his garments to place it over his left breast. Miroku made a small gasp of surprise as the cold metal made contact with his skin.

"I'm so sorry." the woman apologized, lifting it to her delectable looking mouth and giving the disk a few warm puffs of breath. She slipped it back underneath his garments, placing it on another spot just above his left pectoral. "These things are always cold. Am I hurting you?"

"Hurt?" Miroku repeated as the haze around his brain lifted somewhat. "I'm hurt?"

A sympathetic look crossed the woman's pleasant face. "Oh, you poor thing!" she cooed. "You have amnesia, don't you?"

"Am...nesia?"

The woman gave another soft coo of sympathy and patted his arm in comfort, carefully avoiding his gloved wrist. She lowered the strange instrument from her ears and allowed the pendulum to dangle around her neck, the metal end hanging provocatively between her...

Miroku blinked a few times to clear the lustful fog that was obscuring his coherent thoughts and glanced around the room. The walls, accounting for the blinding whiteness he'd experienced earlier, were a neutral white color and reflected the sunlight directly into his eyes, intensifying the angry blaze of the natural sun tenfold. A window was to the left of him, open to allow the gentle waft of breeze entrance. Summer was most certainly on its way. Strange objects beeped at him from all sides, the steady beat offering cold reassurance to him.

More interesting scenery, however, was leaning over the strangely raised table to his left, scribbling furiously on a thin piece of parchment enclosed within two metal plates. Her odd kimono was the same pristine white as the room itself and hugged her body like a (very lucky) glove. Had he died and gone to a brothel-erm, heaven?

Wait...did he believe in heaven?

The woman stood, replacing her very odd quill in a pocket on her right breast. A small strip of embroidery on the lip of the pocket said "Yoko."

"I'll go tell the doctor that you're awake." the pretty woman said, flashing him one of her brilliant smiles before flouncing out of the room, shoulder length curls (among other things) bouncing jovially.

"Doc...tor?" Miroku blinked again and shook his head. Surely he was dreaming. Must be induced by some sort of head trauma (she did say he was injured) or just a touch too much sake because, surely, no one was creative enough to think of all this under their own imaginations. Or he truly must have gone to that big (cough, cough), bright brothel in the sky...

His imagination had even gone so far as to place him on a futon-if you could call it a futon, anyway. He was elevated from the floor-hard in texture and the same shade of the walls with just a touch of beige mixed in-and situated so that both he and the futon were in an upright position, mounds of fluffy white things beneath him for comfort. The futon itself was springy, he discovered upon unintentional movement, and was covered by a thin cloth which was tucked securely out of his range of vision to hold it in place. It had a blanket to match, as well as a secondary one which was the most abhorrent shade of pale pink that he had personally ever laid eyes upon.

With the intention of getting up to explore (and possibly find that woman again-after all, how could he waste such a delightful, injury-induced hallucination?), Miroku placed both hands, palm flat, against the futon and pushed against it to gain leverage.

"Ah!" he groaned, falling limply back against the fluffy white things in undeserved pain. Since when did dreams hurt (normally his were quite pleasurable)?!

"Don't move!" another voice scolded with a slightly panicked undertone. "You'll reopen your wound!"

Miroku blinked away the tears of pain his eyes had procured and turned toward the doorway the woman had disappeared through moments before to see-strangely enough-lady Kagome rushing to his aid.

Okay, so his dreams didn't usually involve her. But he'd take it. Now, if he concentrated hard enough, perhaps her clothes would fall off...

"You're injured! You need to lay still!" she scolded, dropping a bouquet of fresh daisies on the small table at his bedside. She prodded his side experimentally and lifted his garments-an odd parchment quality, to be sure-to check his bandages. "I think its alright." she said with relief, lowering his paper robes to properly cover him again.

"Kagome-sama?" Miroku queried groggily, the warm fuzziness still holding his mind captive.

"How are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere?" she asked as she continued to fuss over him, shifting his face this way and that to get a better look.

She was still fully clothed too. This dream was NOT going his way. Wasn't he supposed to be able to control them or something?

After allowing her to fuss over him for a few moments, Miroku halted her ministrations with a raised hand to indicate silence. "Kagome-sama," Miroku soothed. "Assuming that this is not a dream, where am I?"

Kagome giggled nervously, shifting her gaze away from his. She fidgeted a few moments, obviously at a loss as to how to explain. While she attempted to sum up her thoughts, Miroku looked her over, searching for a way to salvage his hallucinations.

Her clothing was stranger than her usual garb of what she called a "uniform." It consisted of a single piece of lavender fabric that extended just below her knees, little white embroidered flowers circling the hem and necklines (which, sadly, covered her modestly). The sleeves of her garment were missing but, in their place, a gauzy, transparent covering of some kind was wrapped around her, covering her arms and extending to her waist where it was tied securely around her belly in a simple knot. Her hair was tied back, for once, in a simple ponytail secured at the base of her neck, leaving a few tendrils of ebony hair curling around her face. A wide-brimmed straw hat dangled from her arm by it's matching periwinkle ribbon, a few sprigs of baby's breath and purple roses adorning the bow in the back for an extra splash of innocent charm.

"Ah," she began, finally. "You were so badly injured that I didn't think Kaede could heal you, so I brought you here and...." she smiled brightly. "And you're all better!"

The fog lifted and the pieces fell into place. "You mean I'm...I'm..." It was so outrageous; he was having difficulty fathoming such an insight. He looked around again, allowing his surroundings to fully sink in. "You mean I'm not dreaming?"

So much for salvaging this experience, he thought bitterly.

"No." Kagome agreed, placing her flowered hat next to the bouquet on the table. "I passed the nurse outside and she told me you were awake." she added. "You've been asleep for three days."

"Three days?" he repeated, his mind trying to grasp the concept.

Unbidden, flashes of the battle with Naraku's puppet flooded back to him. Angry slashes of earth and fur...dodging fruitlessly...impalement.

With a nervous feeling of apprehension in his gut, Miroku drew back his strange paper coverings.

Kagome fidgeted again. "The doctor said it barely missed your heart. You were lucky it didn't go through to the other side-it grazed your spinal column." she explained. Miroku decided he didn't want to know what a "spinal column" was-surely he didn't need to know exactly how close to death he had been.

"And," he gulped inaudibly, covering his abdomen again. "The others?" Kagome finally met his gaze, a broad smile forcing away any sort of nervous regret or apprehension.

"They're all fine." she affirmed. "You should have seen InuYasha after you...after the puppet..." she nodded pointedly at his chest where the bandages held him together, forcing all organs and fluids to stay within his body. "I didn't really see exactly what happened, but I could see the light from InuYasha's sword as Kirara and I rushed you to the well. Sango told me it was magnificent."

Miroku released a soft sigh of relief-and sucked it back in immediately at the pain that followed. Obviously, he had a few cracked (or broken) ribs as well.

Kagome reached over with concern as he started coughing brokenly, his lungs apparently annoyed at him since they were attempting to flee his body through his mouth. She lifted him gently away from his pillows and rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades, soothing his angry hacking into a soft tickle in his throat.

"Are you alright?" she asked as his breathing slowed, still rubbing the slow circles into his back. Miroku nodded weakly, expelling the last weak cough from his body. Kagome helped him back onto his pillows, instructing him sternly not to strain himself and make her worry any more than he had to. The last part made him smile.

Always so concerned about everyone's welfare. Some days he thought she would even comfort Naraku after a nasty splinter from one of his wooden puppets.

"I am fine, Kagome-sama." he assured her, assuaging her frantic worries over his well being. "I take it that InuYasha is enraged at yet another delay in the shard hunt?"

Kagome's smile relit her face momentarily. "Yeah, but he'll get over it. And if he doesn't, I'll you-know-what him until he digs himself a hole to America." she said, laughing at the puzzled look on his face. "It's a future thing." she explained.

"Ah." Miroku said, nodding his understanding. "I assume that you will not let me go back home for a while yet."

"Not until you heal." Kagome agreed cheerfully, absently reaching behind him to fluff his pillows. "Until then, you can stay at the shrine. The doctor says you should be back on your feet in about two months."

Miroku sat up, immediately regretting it. Kagome pushed the wincing monk back down and scolded him again. "Two months? We don't have two months!"

"Shh!" Kagome calmed him, forcing him back down gently. "InuYasha and Sango have promised to continue the shard hunt in your absence. I'll be going back occasionally to help them. It'll be just fine."

"But-"

Any further protests on Miroku's part were cut off by another untimely intrusion. "Higurashi-san?"

It was the woman again. The one Kagome identified as "nurse."

Kagome looked up at the mention of her sur name "Yes?"

"Ah, your," she glanced down at the piece of folded metal in her hands, opening it to scan down her sheet of thin parchment. "Cousin needs a sponge bath and his bandages changed."

"By you?" Miroku couldn't help but ask, his most charming smile worming its way onto his face to accompany the twinkle in his eye. The nurse chuckled, her face flushing prettily.

"Yes, sir." she agreed. Miroku grinned but faltered at the cold look Kagome was sending his way.

"That's alright," Kagome declined. "We'll be taking him home this afternoon. The doctor says it's alright for him to be moved."

The nurse looked slightly disappointed (what with the bad case of falling-in-love-with-her-sad-pitiful-patient inhibiting her thought processes) but Miroku was devastated.

"But, Kagome-sama-"

Kagome pinched his cursed arm viciously, the strained smile still plastered over her features. "Don't worry, cousin. We'll take good care of you." she promised, the words leaking through her teeth threateningly. It was Miroku's turn to feel nervous.

"Yes, Kagome-sama."

So much for dreams becoming reality, Miroku thought with a dejected sigh. He watched the nurse leave with a forlorn look as Kagome chattered happily away at him once more, detailing all the things and events that she'd have to show him while he was here. He hadn't absorbed more than a word or two of it-something about "strawberry pocky" and "karaoke."

What a long two months they were going to be.

Sigh.

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Next Author: Horridporrid

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