InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Side of the Moon ❯ Vindicated ( Chapter 11 )

Meg: *does crazy dance * Oh yeah! Look who updated again!

Muse: You do realize that your dancing can make people blind, right?

Meg: *Keeps dancing *

Muse: *Goes blind *

Title: Dark Side of the Moon

Rating: R

Obsession: Inuyasha

Genre: Dark, angsty stuff. Lots of it. And a bit of romance.

Main characters: Kagome (duh!), Naraku, Miroku and Inuyasha (sort of). May be others later.

Summary: Check the first Chapter!

Feedback: Duh!!

Author's Note: Uh-huh. Yes, you're awake. You're not dreaming. I have updated in 7 days. Who's the authoress? LoL. I want to thank Duke-of-Spades, AngleCat HellFire, Blahblah, Loopypants, Ray, inudemoness247, Kawaii Houshi and Everyone that reviewed again! I love you people so much it hurts!!

Note: It may not completely apparent, but this chapter backs up from where we were last chapter. I love confusing you guys, but there are some things I simply must tell you about.

Oh, and some mild M/K in here this time! (Only took 11 Chapters, right?)

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Dark Side of the Moon

By: Meg

Chapter 11 - Vindicated

There were many things happening at once.

"Suffer, Inuyasha!"

Too many things to concentrate on just one.

"Do not forget, Kagura, that I hold your life in my hand."

There was a long time when Miroku felt nothing but the ache in his shoulder.

"…and when you are bathed in his blood…"

He remembered a child came to him; almost a blue of white, red and silver. "Drink this," she told him. And he did.

"…she cannot kill him; I do not understand…"

The voices became louder than usual once. He didn't know why or when; all sense of time was lost.

"An odd creature, isn't she?"

"You are making them again."

He knew that voice. It was just beyond his reach.

" I am the Bell-Ringer." It was the child's voice.

"You ruined everything that mattered!"

"I destroyed everything that didn't."

But then the sound was softer, the voices lower.

"I cannot kill you."

The voices were all familiar and yet detached. His lethargic mind was not able to connect the recognitions. And it was this way for as long as his befuddled mind could remember. Was he dead? Alive? Somewhere in between?

But then the red and white and silver child came to him and spoke a soft voice that made him remember. He was alive! He was too weary to speak or wonder. He could only listen.

"The mirror is full…"

"…Inuyasha's head on a platter…"

"…Who is this girl?"

And then suddenly, everything was silent. The many voices and moments ceased. He could feel again. The hemp rope bit into his skin and he felt his eyes open. The child was there, sitting at his side, feeding him a broth.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a rush of nausea overwhelmed him without warning and he leaned over and was sick. He heaved a few moments afterward, but comforting circles where drawn on his back by the priestess child and she helped him sit up again.

It was dark and hard to see anything other than the stark white and silver and the bright red. He tried to speak again, the acrid taste of bile in his mouth. "Where…" his voice was hoarse.

Warm broth was brought to his mouth again and he drank. It soothed his burning throat. He tried again, " Where is Kagome?"

" She is alright."

And then he only remembered waking up again. He moved the slightest bit and felt the ropes hold his hands over his head again. With it, there was also the pain that could be felt everywhere; his head ached, his arms were stiff, his legs were cramped and he felt like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"So you're awake I see."

He remembered that voice through the memories fed to him and the wound handed to him. "Naraku," he tried to growl, but it came out a weak breath instead.

He opened his eyes and saw the walls and floor of a dank stone cell. There was some natural light coming from a higher place, but he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't imagining it. Miroku lifted his head as best he could and saw Naraku himself standing there. The priestess was standing behind him. "Reijin," the demon lord spoke. The girl stepped forward.

A bowl was in her hands. He could smell the same broth as before. She fed him, like before, and when finished, Miroku heard Naraku step forward. A small blade could be heard leaving Naraku's side. Miroku's mind violently swam back to the wound in his shoulder. He remembered Naraku's blood mixing with his own, driving out the purity. Miroku no longer felt like a monk.

Instead of using the blade to harm him, Miroku found that the wicked demon only cut the bindings on his hands, which kept him against she wall. And whether it be from hunger, weariness, or weakness, Miroku fell forward, only to be caught by the silver haired child. Her fingers and hands felt warm against his bare skin.

"Clean him up. Get him ready."

And then there were retreating footsteps. Miroku felt himself being pushed to sit up. Was he really that weak? How long had he been here?

"Miroku."

He heard his name and it sounded wonderful. It washed into his ears and some of the pain melted away. He was suddenly very tired. So tired that he could not even speak or listen or feel.

When he woke again once more, he felt a blanket over him and a futon under him.

This is familiar…

He opened his eyes and half expected to see Kagome there, making him that awful medicinal tea, but instead the silver priestess took her place. She turned to him and he finally saw a complete, unobstructed view of her. He had previously seen most of her, but now he noticed how much older she actually looked and that her eyes were crimson. A memory flashed by his mind's eye. Naraku's face obstructed the almost full moon. There was a dagger covered in blood. Then the image left just as quickly as it had come.

His eyes refocused on the outside world and Reijin was sitting beside his bed. She was a creature of Naraku's making. She looked back at him with eyes that knew, but showed nothing.

" Your name is Miroku," she said.

" Yes. Do you know why I am here, where ever this place is?"

"You are here to be trained."

" I already know how to fight."

" But only as a monk. You must learn to control yourself."

Miroku wondered if this girl had heard of his past behavior. Had she spoken with Kagome? But, just to be sure if she knew nothing of his lechery, he asked, " And what am I?"

He was aware that his mystical talents had been reduced to poor shadows of their former selves. Miroku didn't need to try to demonstrate anything to prove himself. He knew that he had been tainted by whatever Naraku had done. (Not that his previous lifestyle had been very virtuous either.)

"You are not a demon, if that's what you are wondering, but you are not completely a mortal human man as you were before. There is a…newness to you that cannot be completely described by words."

Miroku sat up and crossed his arms. "I was once a monk. I am knowledgeable in the ways of the mystical. I know that there is something demonic in me that I can no longer rid myself of."

" I have already told you that you are not a demon."

" Then what am I exactly?" he asked, growing steadily irritated. He wanted a straight answer, damn it all.

" You have not been listening at all," she replied and then said no more of the subject.

Miroku glared at the pseudo-priestess but she did nothing in return. Her hollow crimson eyes only looked back at him. He gave a sigh. Was she perhaps a few pieces short of the whole picture?

"You should rest," she said.

" You sound like Kagome, " he said dully, his annoyance with her increasing. He figured their healing processes were similar also. He also wondered where Kagome was. " How is she?"

"She was wounded recently, Miroku-sama, but she will be fine."

"Wounded? How?"

"Master Naraku was not pleased with her speaking."

Not pleased with her speaking? Was this girl a foreigner? Perhaps Japanese was not her first language. But how could that be possible if she was Naraku's offspring? "Wounded how?"

The girl looked over at him. "I have already told you."

He scolded himself inwardly, and then reworded himself to speak more plainly. " Where is she wounded? What was used against her?" Speaking his questions only further enflamed his animosity for Naraku's actions.

"Her shoulder was wounded when she spoke against Master Naraku. Her wounds were inflicted by his claws."

"I see." Miroku tried to stay still and not tremble with rage, but he did not want to control himself. He wanted very much to claw his way out of the stifling room, find Naraku and rip apart his throat, but fought against an outburst. It would not bode well for the incarnation to see. So, he swallowed his anger for now.

"As I said before, you must rest. Your body must mend itself. Drink this, "she offered him a tea cup. "It will help you."

He drank the foul tea and remembered when Kagome had fed it to him. He lay down and the aftertaste reminded him of the room they has shared in the very beginning. It had been mostly dark there, but there were always oil lamps burning. He could remember the smell of them. And, even though she had frustrated him-- lied to him-he missed her. He remembered when she had comforted him. He remembered the smell of her after her bath: lilies and fruit. She reminded him of lilies and fruit.

* * *

Only a few days later, Miroku was told by Reijin that he was fit enough again to move about. "Master Naraku has asked that you go as soon as possible."

He ate a small breakfast provided by his temporary caretaker and dressed into a set of clothes provided for him. He didn't enjoy donning them in the least. They were too restricting and it only amplified his missing his status as a monk. With a frown, he endured the almost strange clothes. He then left the small, dark room and stepped out onto the wooden veranda to make his way toward where Reijin had directed him. The boards creaked under his footsteps. A few birds twittered and fled from a tree bough. Miroku turned his eyes to each sound as he caught them, pondering the strange new sharpness of the ripe summer.

He watched the very small courtyard in a kind of fascination. His eyes could focus better than he remembered. He could count the ants crawling up an old bonsai tree ten meters away. He could hear the movements of the wind in the trees, the sound of an animal burrowing, the sound of a teacup being stacked. Miroku turned to see Reijin leaving the room she'd used to care for him. In her delicate hands was a tray laden with a dirty tea set.

What exactly had happened to him?

"You must be Miroku-sama."

Miroku turned away from Reijin's exit to see a man standing next to him. He looked much older than Miroku and was dressed in a soldier's uniform, or at least what looked like one; he could find no outward sign of rank or loyalty to Naraku. "Yes, and who are you?" he asked blandly.

" I am Tanis," the man said rigidly, "Lord Naraku is away and I was left in charge. I was ordered to give you private quarters. I suggest you come with me immediately."

The man, Tanis, turned to walk back the direction Miroku assumed he had come from and then followed. Miroku heard him continue to speak, "You are not allowed beyond your room in most cases. If you are allowed to leave, you are forbidden from leaving the courtyard or passing the Eastern wall that separates the compound from the castle."

Miroku was led to a door and Tanis stopped and turned to face Miroku again. "There is a man inside that is waiting to speak with you on a confidential matter," Tanis told him," Now, excuse me, sir."

The soldier gave a short bow and left. Miroku opened the door and, as was told to him, he stepped inside to find an elderly man sitting on the floor. He was dressed in the robes of a Buddhist monk. He paused from his cup of tea and looked up at Miroku. "Ah, you are Miroku, then?"

Miroku bowed and nodded. "Then sit," the elder said, gesturing to the floor beside him.

Miroku did as asked and took a proffered cup of tea. "I hear that you are a man of the cloth as well?"

"I once was, but I fear my abilities have left me recently."

The old man gave a huff. "Nonsense!"

Miroku fought down a scowl and decided that the old man may have been senile. Miroku was fairly certain of where he stood on a mystical level. He didn't want to admit it, of course, but he couldn't feel other surrounding auras as well as he could before.

But Miroku remembered to be polite. Besides, the old man was supposed to tell him something important, wasn't he?

" I beg your pardon, but I was told you were to give me a certain piece of information?" Miroku tried to remind him.

The old man took a sip of his tea then rose and hobbled over to the other side of the room. He bent over to pick up a bundle then returned to his seat beside the younger man. "These are for you," he said.

Miroku looked at the dark cloth and recognized it. "Thank you," he replied.

And he was thankful. His common clothes still didn't feel right since he'd spent a large part of his life in monk's robes. The familiar black and purple cloth was a welcome gift from the older man.

The old man then returned to his tea. "No one sent for me, mind you. I merely happened to be traveling through the area. The scoundrels picked me right off the road!" The old man gave an indignant snort.

"How very unfortunate for you." Miroku failed to see any relevancy, but waited.

"They brought me here, saying a fellow holy man needed assistance. I complied, as is my duty to help others," the man continued.

Miroku fought the urge to sigh. At least he had his tea so he didn't need to sit still.

" Then I was shown to that…Naraku. I had heard of him by mouth of a village not far away. They told me he'd stolen children and horses to eat and that he raided any wealthy Lords of their valuables. He is a demon, that one. I meant to purify him if needed, but thought better of it. He has a great amount of mystical energy," he said and then looked at Miroku seriously. "That energy, though tainted as it is by demonic energy, is very similar to yours."

"I thought that I had lost it."

"It is there, but there is very little. A demonic energy is overshadowing it now. Within the next few days, there will be next to nothing. After those days-after the moon is it's fullest-then you will slowly regain your holy capabilities. And when the new moon comes, you will be the closest to your old self again."

Miroku gave a snort and allowed himself a short, bitter chuckle. How ironic… Naraku simply must completely enjoy cursing people.

"Excuse me?"

Miroku remembered the old monk. "Forgive me, I merely remembered something. Please, go on."

The man cleared his throat and continued, "But I must warn you, because the both of you exchange each other's powers, you will acquire some of the other's abilities. For example, you may have noticed you sense of sight or hearing or smell has been enhanced. You may also feel stronger or faster. Meanwhile, the other," Miroku took note that the man avoided calling Naraku by name, "may have gained a few of your abilities. He might be able to walk through certain barriers or holy places. He may even create a barrier, though it will wane as the moon wanes."

The elder paused and Miroku digested the information. He remembered the voices and pieces of moments in time. "Is it possible," Miroku asked, "that memories may also be transferred?"

"Yes, perhaps, if the timing is right. And emotions as well, if one is powerful enough to project or vulnerable enough to receive."

Miroku decided he would need to keep his guard up, especially now. If the memories could reach him as he slept, the moon must be very near full.

"I must soon take leave, young man," said the monk, "but I must share with you an observation. There is a young lady that resides with the demon. She is not a demon herself, and I can sense a strong purity about her. There is also a link between them both, but its origin is unknown to me. I pray that you keep this woman safe from the hands of that evil creature. She holds a large part of his demise."

Miroku said nothing, absorbed in memories, but nodded.

"Very well," the old monk said, "then I shall take my leave."

The man rose from his seat and gathered a knapsack that had been resting in a corner of the room. Miroku rose and opened the door for the man. "Farewell," Miroku told him, " May Buddha guide you."

"And you," and there was an earnest tone to his voice.

The older monk left the room and Miroku shut the door. He gathered the familiar violet and black robes and changed his clothes. All he needed was his staff and he would feel nearly complete. He willed it to appear, but this castle was obviously not enchanted as the other had been.

Miroku looked about the room and noted there was very little of anything. There was a cupboard at the back wall where he assumed a futon was folded away. There was also the tea set on the floor. Miroku sighed, recognizing yet another confined quarter. Only now he was alone. He wondered how long he'd have to wait for permission to leave and if Kagome was suffering the same fate as he.

…………

Responses:

Akuma-River: You are one smart cookie! I love you! *gives candy *

Duke-of-spades: Ya know, I'm debating whether to have an actual lemon or not. IF I have one, I'll have to put it on Mediaminer.org, even though that place is…slow.

Kawaii Houshi: Oh, I couldn't possibly take your Kilala plushie if that's your only plushie! *Gives lots of Inuyasha plushies *

Ray: I'm not sure how many chapters this will take.

Loopypants: Ya know, I wanted to tell you I completely LOVE your name!!

~*~

Next Chapter…Chapter 12 - Who We Have Become

Review or…or…okay, I've got nothing.